scenes which now form the first act of the GOTTERDAMMERUNG.  The details of Siegfried’s relation to Brunhilda had been merely outlined to the listeners in a lyrico-episodical dialogue between the hero’s wife, whom he had left behind in solitude, and a crowd of Valkyries passing before her rock.  To my great joy, Devrient’s hint on this point directed my thoughts to those scenes which I afterwards worked out in the prologue of this drama.

This and other matters of a similar nature brought me into intimate contact with Eduard Devrient, and made our intercourse much more lively and pleasant.  He often invited a select circle of friends to attend dramatic readings at his house in which I gladly took part, for I found, to my surprise, that his gift for declamation, which quite forsook him on the stage, here stood out in strong relief.  It was, moreover, a consolation to pour into a sympathetic ear my worries about my growing unpopularity with the director.  Devrient seemed particularly anxious to prevent a definite breach; but of this there was little hope.  With the approach of winter the court had returned to town, and once more frequented the theatre, and various signs of dissatisfaction in high quarters with my behaviour as conductor began to be manifested.  On one occasion the Queen thought that I had conducted Norma badly, and on another that I ’had taken the time wrongly’ in Robert the devil.  As Luettichau had to communicate these reprimands to me, it was natural that our intercourse at such times should hardly be of a nature to restore our mutual satisfaction with each other.

Notwithstanding all this, it still seemed possible to prevent matters from coming to a crisis, though everything continued in a state of agitating uncertainty and fermentation.  At all events the forces of reaction, which were holding themselves in readiness on every side, were not yet sufficiently certain that the hour of their triumph had come as not to consider it advisable for the present, at least, to avoid all provocation.  Consequently our management did not meddle with the musicians of the royal orchestra, who, in obedience to the spirit of the times, had formed a union for debate and the protection of their artistic and civic interests.  In this matter one of our youngest musicians, Theodor Uhlig, had been particularly active.  He was a young man, still in his early twenties, and was a violinist in the orchestra.  His face was strikingly mild, intelligent and noble, and he was conspicuous among his fellows on account of his great seriousness and his quiet but unusually firm character.  He had particularly attracted my notice on several occasions by his quick insight and extensive knowledge of music.  As I recognised in him a spirit keenly alert in every direction, and unusually eager for culture, it was not long before I chose him as my companion in my regular walks—­a habit I still continued to cultivate—­and on which Roeckel had hitherto accompanied me.