The secret of his indifference to success became clear to me in the course of further conversation, as I learned that he was on the point of making a wealthy marriage.  At first I was inclined to think that Halevy was simply a man whose youthful talent was only stimulated to achieve one great success with the object of becoming rich; in his case, however, this was not the only reason, as he was very modest in regard to his own capacity, and had no great opinion of the works of those more fortunate composers who were writing for the French stage at that time.  In him I thus, for the first time, met with the frankly expressed admission of disbelief in the value of all our modern creations in this dubious field of art.  I have since come to the conclusion that this incredulity, often expressed with much less modesty, justifies the participation of all Jews in our artistic concerns.  Only once did Halevy speak to me with real candour, when, on my tardy departure for Germany, he wished me the success he thought my works deserved.

In the year 1860 I saw him again.  I had learned that, while the Parisian critics were giving vent to the bitterest condemnation of the concerts I was giving at that time, he had expressed his approval, and this determined me to visit him at the Palais de l’Institut, of which he had for some time been permanent secretary.  He seemed particularly eager to learn from my own lips what my new theory about music really was, of which he had heard such wild rumours.  For his own part, he said, he had never found anything but music in my music, but with this difference, that mine had generally seemed very good.  This gave rise to a lively discussion on my part, to which he good-humouredly agreed, once more wishing me success in Paris.  This time, however, he did so with less conviction than when he bade me good-bye for Germany, which I thought was because be doubted whether I could succeed in Paris.  From this final visit I carried away a depressing sense of the enervation, both moral and aesthetic, which had overcome one of the last great French musicians, while, on the other hand, I could not help feeling that a tendency to a hypocritical or frankly impudent exploitation of the universal degeneracy marked all who could be designated as Halevy’s successors.

Throughout this period of constant hack-work my thoughts were entirely bent on my return to Germany, which now presented itself to my mind in a wholly new and ideal light.  I endeavoured in various ways to secure all that seemed most attractive about the project, or which filled my soul with longing.  My intercourse with Lehrs had, on the whole, given a decided spur to my former tendency to grapple seriously with my subjects, a tendency which had been counteracted by closer contact with the theatre.  This desire now furnished a basis for closer study of philosophical questions.  I had been astonished at times to hear even the grave and virtuous Lehrs, openly and quite