may, perhaps, have been fairly agreeable gatherings, as Bulow
entertained us with music, though to me personally they afforded
no mental sustenance whatever. My wife used to declare that, when
I proceeded to read from my manuscript, Kolatschek promptly fell
asleep, while Herwegh gave all his attention to her punch. When,
later on, as I have already mentioned, I read my Oper und Drama
for twelve consecutive evenings to our Zurich friends, Herwegh
stayed away, because he did not wish to mix with those for whom
such things had not been written. Yet my intercourse with him
became gradually more cordial. Not only did I respect his
poetical talent, which had recently gained recognition, but I
also learned to realise the delicate and refined qualities of his
richly cultivated intellect, and in course of time learned that
Herwegh, on his side, was beginning to covet my society. My
steady pursuit of those deeper and more serious interests which
so passionately engrossed me seemed to arouse him to an ennobling
sympathy, even for those topics which, since his sudden leap into
poetic fame, had been, greatly to his prejudice, smothered under
mere showy and trivial mannerisms, altogether alien to his
original nature. Possibly this process was accelerated by the
growing difficulties of his position, which he had hitherto
regarded as demanding a certain amount of outward show. In short,
he was the first man in whom I met with a sensitive and
sympathetic comprehension of my most daring schemes and opinions,
and I soon felt compelled to believe his assertion that he
occupied himself solely with my ideas, into which, certainly, no
other man entered so profoundly as he did.

This familiarity with Herwegh, in which an element of affection
was certainly mingled, was further stimulated by news which