In the course of my rambles on foot to Wiesbaden I sometimes liked to call on Raff’s wife, a rather insignificant woman, but Raff himself was a person to whom I soon became perfectly indifferent.  Still, when he came to know me a little better, he lowered the tone of his sagelike maxims, and even appeared to be rather afraid of my chaffing humour, against the shafts of which he knew he was defenceless.

Wendelin Weisheimer, whom I had known slightly before, often called on me in Biebrich.  He was the son of a rich peasant of Osthofen, and to the astonishment of his father refused to give up the musical profession.  He was particularly anxious to introduce me to his parent, that I might influence the old man’s mind in favour of his son’s choice of an artistic career.  This involved me in excursions into their district, and I had an opportunity of witnessing young Weisheimer’s talent as an orchestral conductor at a performance of Offenbach’s Orpheus in the theatre at Mayence, where he had hitherto occupied a subordinate position.  I was horrified that my sympathy for this young man should make me descend so low as to be present at such an abomination, and for a long time I could not refrain from letting Weisheimer see the annoyance I felt.

In my search for a more dignified entertainment I wrote to Friedericke Meyer in Frankfort and asked her to let me know when the performance of Calderon’s comedy, Das offentliche Geheimniss, would be repeated, as the last time I had seen an announcement of it, I had been too late.  She was much pleased at my sympathetic inquiry, and informed me that the comedy was not likely to be revived in the immediate future, but that there was a prospect of Calderon’s Don Gutierre being produced.  I again paid a visit to Frankfort to see this play, and made the personal acquaintance of this interesting actress for the first time.  I had every reason to be highly satisfied with the performance of Calderon’s tragedy, although the talented actress who played the leading part was thoroughly successful only in the tenderer passages, her resources being insufficient to depict the more passionate scenes.  She told me she very often visited some friends of hers in Mayence, and I followed up this communication by expressing a wish that when doing so she would look me up at Biebrich, to which she replied that I might hope on some future occasion for the fulfilment of my wish.

A grand soiree given by the Schotts to their Mayence acquaintances was the occasion of my making friends with Mathilde Maier, whom Frau Schott, at least so she informed me, had specially selected for her ‘cleverness’ to be my companion at the supper table; her highly intelligent, sincere manner and her peculiar Mayence dialect distinguished her favourably from the rest of the company; nor was this distinction accompanied by anything outre.  I promised to visit her, and thus became acquainted with an idyllic home such as I had never met before.  This Mathilde, who was