in Venice, that the Saxon ambassador in Vienna ardently wished to drive me even out of Venice.  This proved unsuccessful, however, as I was sufficiently protected by a Swiss passport, which to my great delight the Austrian authorities duly respected.  The only hope I had with regard to my longed-for return to Germany was based on the friendly efforts of the Grand Duke of Baden.  Eduard Devrient, to whom I also applied for more definite information respecting our project of a first performance of Tristan, informed me that the Grand Duke looked upon my presence at the performance as an understood thing; whether he was taking any steps on his own account against the League, in case his direct efforts to obtain the King of Saxony’s permission should be fruitless, or whether he intended to accomplish it in some other way, he did not know.  Consequently I realised that I could not count on the possibility of an early settlement in Germany.

A great deal of my time was taken up in correspondence with the object of procuring the necessary means of subsistence, which at that time, owing to the divided household, made no small calls upon my purse.  Fortunately a few of the larger theatres had not yet come to terms about my operas, so I might still expect some fees from them, whereas those from the more active theatres had already been spent.  The Stuttgart Court Theatre was the last to apply for Tannhauser.  At that time I had a particular affection for Stuttgart, owing to the reasons I have already mentioned; this was also true of Vienna, which had been the first place to produce Lohengrin, and, in consequence of its success, thought it necessary to secure Tannhauser.  My negotiations with Eckert, who was director at that time, quickly led to satisfactory results.

All this happened during the course of the winter and early spring of 1859.  Otherwise I lived very quietly and with great regularity, as I have described.  After recovering the use of my leg, I was able in December to begin my regular gondola trips to the Piazzetta again and the return journeys in the evening, and also to give myself up for some time uninterruptedly to my musical work.  I spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve quite alone, but in my dreams at night I often found myself in society, which had a very disturbing effect on my rest.

At the beginning of 1859 Karl Ritter suddenly turned up again at my rooms for his usual evening visits.  His anxiety about the performance of a dramatic piece he had written had taken him to the shores of the Baltic.  This was a work he had completed a short time before Armida, much of which again showed his great talent.  The tendency of the whole play is to show terrible glimpses of the poet’s soul, and these prevent one from passing a favourable judgment on some parts of the piece, but other parts, notably the meeting of Rinaldo with Armida, and the violent birth of their love, are depicted by the author with real poetic fire.  As is the case with all such