upon the idea of writing in it, by way of dedication, the words,
'RED, my friend, is MY theory,' in contradistinction to the
Gothic saying, 'Grey, my friend, is all theory.' This gift
elicited an exhilarating and most delightful correspondence with
my lively and keen-sighted young friend, who, after two long
years of separation, I felt sincerely desirous of seeing again.
It was not an easy matter for the poor fiddler, whose pay was
barely that of a chamber musician, to comply with my invitation.
But he gladly tried to overcome all difficulties, and said he
would come early in July. I decided to go as far as Rorschach, on
the Lake of Constance, to meet him, so that we might make an
excursion through the Alps as far as Zurich. I went by a pleasant
detour through the Toggenburg, travelling on foot as usual. In
this way, cheerful and refreshed, I reached St. Gall, where I
sought out Karl Ritter, who, since Bulow's departure, had
remained there alone in curious seclusion. I could guess the
reason of his retirement, although he said that he had enjoyed
very agreeable intercourse with a St. Gall musician named
Greitel, of whom I never heard anything further. Though very
tired after my long walking tour, I could not refrain from
submitting the manuscript of my Jungcr Siegfried, which I had
just finished, to the quick and critical judgment of this
intelligent young man, who was thus the first person to hear it.
I was more than gratified by its effect upon him, and, in high
spirits, persuaded him to forsake his strange retreat and go with
me to meet Uhlig, so that we might all three proceed over the
Santis for a long and pleasant stay in Zurich. My first glance at
my guest, as he landed at the familiar harbour of Rorschach,
filled me at once with anxiety for his health, for it revealed
but too plainly his tendency to consumption. In order to spare