instrumentation for an opera of his own composition, for which he
offered me the sum of two thousand seven hundred marks (L135). In
spite of my position as an outlaw, my noble patron and would-be
employer offered to receive me in his castle at Coburg, where, in
quiet seclusion with himself and Frau Birchpfeiffer, the writer
of the libretto, I might execute the work. Liszt naturally
expected nothing more from me than a decent excuse for declining
this offer, and suggested my pleading 'bodily and mental
depression.' My friend told me afterwards that the Duke had
desired my co-operation with him in his score on account of my
skilful use of trombones. When he inquired, through Liszt, what
my rules for their manipulation were, I replied that before I
could write anything for trombones I required first to have some
ideas in my head.

On the other hand, however, I felt very much tempted to entertain
the Weimar proposal. Still weary from my exhausting labour on
Oper und Drama, and worried by many things which had a depressing
effect on my spirits, I seated myself for the first time for many
months at my Hartel grand-piano, which had been rescued from the
Dresden catastrophe, to see whether I could settle down to
composing the music for my ponderous heroic drama. In rapid
outline I sketched the music for the Song of the Norns, or
Daughters of the Rhine, which in this first draft was only
roughly suggested. But when I attempted to turn Brunhilda's first
address to Siegfried into song my courage failed me completely,
for I could not help asking myself whether the singer had yet
been born who was capable of vitalising this heroic female
figure. The idea of my niece Johanna occurred to me, whom, as a
matter of fact, I had already destined for this rule when I was