for the first time, I found innumerable bundles of scores! I had
as yet never seen a score. It is true I discovered, to my regret,
that he possessed nothing either by Beethoven, Mozart, or Weber;
in fact, nothing but immense quantities of works, masses, and
cantatas by composers such as Staerkel, Stamitz, Steibelt, etc.,
all of whom were entirely unknown to me. Yet Flachs was able to
tell me so much that was good about them that the respect which I
felt for scores in general helped me to overcome my regret at not
finding anything by my beloved masters. It is true I learnt later
that poor Flachs had only come into the possession of these
particular scores through unscrupulous dealers, who had traded on
his weakness of intellect and palmed off this worthless music on
him for large sums of money. At all events, they were scores, and
that was quite enough for me. Flachs and I became most intimate;
we were always seen going about together--I, a lanky boy of
sixteen, and this weird, shaky flaxpole. The doors of my deserted
home were often opened for this strange guest, who made me play
my compositions to him while he ate bread and cheese. In return,
he once arranged one of my airs for wind instruments, and, to my
astonishment, it was actually accepted and played by the band in
Kintschy's Swiss Chalet. That this man had not the smallest
capacity to teach me anything never once occurred to me; I was so
firmly convinced of his originality that there was no need for
him to prove it further than by listening patiently to my
enthusiastic outpourings. But as, in course of time, several of
his own friends joined us, I could not help noticing that the
worthy Flachs was regarded by them all as a half-witted fool. At
first this merely pained me, but a strange incident unexpectedly
occurred which converted me to the general opinion about him.
Flachs was a man of some means, and had fallen into the toils of