‘Der Vogel der heut’ sang, Dem war der Schnabel hold gewachsen; Ward auch den Meistern dabei bang, Gar wohl gefiel er doch Hans Sachsen.’ [Footnote:  ’The bird who sang this morn From Nature’s self had learned his singing; Masters that song may scorn, For aye Hans Sachs will hear it singing.’ (Translation of the Meistersinger, by Frederick Jameson.)—­Editor.]

In Mayence I got to know the Schott family, with whom I had only had a casual acquaintance in Paris, more intimately.  The young musician Weisheimer, who was just then beginning his career as musical director at the local theatre, was a daily visitor at their house.  At one of our dinners another young man, Stadl, a lawyer, proposed a remarkable toast in my honour in a most eloquent and astonishing speech.  Notwithstanding all this I had to recognise that in Franz Schott I was dealing with a very singular man, and our negotiations proceeded with extraordinary difficulty.  I insisted emphatically on carrying out my first proposal, namely, that he should provide me for two successive years with funds necessary for the undisturbed execution of my work.  He excused his unwillingness to do this by pretending it was painful to his feelings to drive a bargain with a man like myself by purchasing my work for a certain sum of money, including also the profits of my author’s rights in the theatrical performances; that, in a word, he was a music publisher, and did not want to be anything else.  I represented to him that he need only advance me the necessary amount in proper form, and that I would guarantee him the repayment of that proportion of it which might be considered due payment for the literary property, out of my future theatrical takings, which would thus be his security.

After a long time he agreed to make advances on ’musical compositions still to be delivered,’ and to this suggestion I gladly acceded, insisting, however, that I must be able to depend on a total gradual payment of twenty thousand francs.  As, after settling my Vienna hotel bill, I was in immediate want of money, Schott gave me a draft on Paris.  From that city I now received a letter from Princess Metternich, which mystified me, inasmuch as it merely announced the sudden death of her mother, Countess Sandor, and the consequent change in her family circumstances.  Once more I deliberated whether it would not be better, after all, to take at random a modest lodging in or near Karlsruhe, which in time might develop into a peaceful and permanent dwelling.  Owing to my difficulty in providing Minna’s allowance, which according to our agreement was three thousand marks a year, it struck me as more reasonable and certainly more economical to ask my wife to share my home.  But a letter which just then reached me from her, and the main contents of which were nothing less than an attempt to incite me against my own friends, scared me away from any thought of reunion with her, and determined me to adhere to my Paris plans and keep as far away from her as possible.