the inevitable inquiry arose as to what was to follow and really establish his fame.  I kept continually asking him what he was going to do next.  In reply he would mention all sorts of fully matured schemes, which would none of them hold water on closer acquaintance.  Luckily a government post was eventually found for him (from patriotic considerations, it seemed),—­where he no doubt did good service, although his literary activity seemed to lie fallow after his early efforts.

Herwegh, another friend of longer standing, was less fortunate.  I had worried myself for a long time about him too, trying to think that his previous efforts were merely introductions to really serious artistic achievements.  He admitted himself that he felt his best was still to come.  It seemed to him that he had all the material—­crowds of ’ideas’—­in reserve for a great poetical work; there was nothing wanting but the ‘frame’ in which he could paint it all, and this is what he hoped, from day to day, to find.  As I grew tired of waiting for it, I set about trying to find the longed-for frame for him myself.  He evidently wished to evolve an epic poem on a large scale, in which to embody the views he had acquired.  As he had once alluded to Dante’s luck in finding a subject like the pilgrimage through hell and purgatory into paradise, it occurred to me to suggest, for the desired frame, the Brahman myth of Metempsychosis, which in Plato’s version comes within reach of our classical education.  He did not think it a bad idea, and I accordingly took some trouble to define the form such a poem would take.  He was to decide upon three acts, each containing three songs, which would make nine songs in all.  The first act would show his hero in the Asiatic country of his birth; the second, his reincarnation in Greece and Rome; the third, his reincarnation in the Middle Ages and in modern times.  All this pleased him very much, and he thought, it might come to something.  Not so my cynical friend, Dr. Wille, who had an estate in the country where we often met in the bosom of his family.  He was of opinion that we expected far too much of Herwegh.  Viewed at close quarters he was, after all, only a young Swabian who had received a far larger share of honour and glory than his abilities warranted, through the Jewish halo thrown around him by his wife.  In the end I had to shrug my shoulders in silent acquiescence with these hopelessly unkind remarks, as I could, of course, see poor Herwegh sinking into deeper apathy every year, until in the end he seemed incapable of doing anything.

Semper’s arrival in Zurich, which had at last taken place, enlivened our circle considerably.  The Federal authorities had asked me to use my influence with Semper to induce him to accept a post as teacher at the Federal Polytechnic.  Semper came over at once to have a look at the establishment first, and was favourably impressed with everything.  He even found cause for delight, when out walking, in