Caroline of Wittgenstein, to whom I had been introduced the year before when she paid her flying visit to Dresden, we were able to hold stimulating conversations on all sorts of artistic topics.  One afternoon, for instance, a lively discussion sprang up from a description I had given of a tragedy to be entitled Jesus of Nazareth.  Liszt maintained a discreet silence after I had finished, whereas the Princess protested vigorously against my proposal to bring such a subject on to the stage.  From the lukewarm attempt I made to support the paradoxical theories I had put forward, I realised the state of my mind at that time.  Although it was not very evident to onlookers, I had been, and still was, shaken to the very depths of my being by my recent experiences.

In due course an orchestral rehearsal of Tannhauser took place, which in various ways stimulated the artist in me afresh.  Liszt’s conducting, though mainly concerned with the musical rather than the dramatic side, filled me for the first time with the flattering warmth of emotion roused by the consciousness of being understood by another mind in full sympathy with my own.  At the same time I was able, in spite of my dreamy condition, to observe critically the standard of capacity exhibited by the singers and their chorus-master.  After the rehearsal I, together with the musical director, Stohr, and Gotze the singer, accepted Liszt’s invitation to a simple dinner, at a different inn from the one where he lived.  I thus had occasion to take alarm at a trait in his character which was entirely new to me.  After being stirred up to a certain pitch of excitement his mood became positively alarming, and he almost gnashed his teeth in a passion of fury directed against a certain section of society which had also aroused my deepest indignation.  I was strongly affected by this strange experience with this wonderful man, but I was unable to see the association of ideas which had led to his terrible outburst.  I was therefore left in a state of amazement, while Liszt had to recover during the night from a violent attack of nerves which his excitement had produced.  Another surprise was in store for me the next morning, when I found my friend fully equipped for a journey to Karlsruhe—­the circumstances which made it necessary being absolutely incomprehensible to me.  Liszt invited Director Stohr and myself to accompany him as far as Eisenach.  On our way there we were stopped by Beaulieu, the Lord Chamberlain, who wished to know whether I was prepared to be received by the Grand Duchess of Weimar, a sister of the Emperor Nicolas, at Eisenach castle.  As my excuse on the score of unsuitable travelling costume was not admitted, Liszt accepted in my name, and I really met with a surprisingly kind reception that evening from the Grand Duchess, who chatted with me in the friendliest way, and introduced me to her chamberlain with all due ceremony.  Liszt maintained afterwards that his noble patroness had been informed that I should be wanted by the authorities in Dresden within the next few days, and had therefore hastened to make my personal acquaintance at once, knowing that it would compromise her too heavily later on.