I was sincerely delighted by the close intercourse I now had with the gentle young Dresden chamber musician, whose manly strength of character and extraordinary mental endowments greatly endeared him to me.  My wife said that his curly golden hair and bright blue eyes made her think an angel had come to stay with us.  For me his features had a peculiar and, considering his fate, pathetic interest, on account of his striking resemblance to King Friedrich August of Saxony, my former patron, who was still alive at that time, and seemed to confirm a rumour which had reached me that Uhlig was his natural son.  It was entertaining to hear his news of Dresden, and all about the theatre, and the condition of musical affairs in that city.  My operas, which had once been its glory, had now quite vanished from the repertoire.  He gave me a choice example of my late colleagues’ opinion of me by relating the following incident.  When Kunst und Revolution and Kunstwerk der Zukunft appeared, and were being discussed among them, one of them remarked:  ’Ha! he may worry a long time before he will be able to write conductor before his name again.’  By way of illustrating the advance made in music, he related the manner in which Reissiger, having on one occasion to conduct Beethoven’s Symphony in A major, which had been previously executed by me, had helped himself out of a sudden dilemma.  Beethoven, as is well known, marks the great finale of the last movement with a prolonged forte, which he merely heightens by a sempre piu forte.  At this point Reissiger, who had conducted the Symphony before me, thinking the opportunity a favourable one, had introduced a piano, in order at least to secure an effective crescendo.  This I had naturally ignored, and had instructed the orchestra to play with their full strength throughout.  Now, therefore, that the conducting of this work had once more fallen into my predecessor’s hands, he found it difficult to restore his unlucky piano; but, feeling that he must save his authority, which had been compromised, he made a rule that mezzo forte should be played instead of forte.

But the most painful news he gave me was about the state of utter neglect into which my unhappy operatic publications had fallen in the hands of the court music-dealer Meser, who, seeing that money had to be continually paid out, while nothing came in, regarded himself as a sacrificial lamb whom I had lured to the slaughter.  Yet he steadily refused all inspection of his books, maintaining that he thereby protected my property, as all I possessed having been confiscated, it would otherwise be seized at once.  A pleasanter topic than this was Lohengrin.  My friend had completed the pianoforte arrangement, and was already busy correcting the engraver’s proofs.