tricks of the trade he would be
able to compose just as he liked; in six months Richard had become an
expert contrapuntist and could fugue it with students who had toiled
for years. "Now," said Weinlig at the last, "you will probably never
want to write a fugue, but the knowledge that you can will give you
confidence." According to the late Mr. Dannreuther his words were,
"You have learnt to stand on your own legs." So it came to pass that
Richard's ambition was fulfilled: he was a musician.

In the life of a being so extraordinary as Wagner it is not surprising
that he took many steps, each of which seemed the most momentous in
his career; but I think on the whole we must reckon this one, from the
amateur enthusiast to the fully equipped professional musician, the
most important. How long he would have been about it but for Weinlig's
timely aid cannot be said. He was steeping himself in Beethoven. He
could not play the piano, but he could read scores: Heinrich Dorn
declared that he copied those of the overtures with his own hands. He
arranged the Ninth Symphony and offered it to Schott, who declined it,
of course. Another arrangement, for four hands, was afterwards
accepted by Breitkopf, in exchange, it would seem, for a copy of the
full score of the same work. Possibly he had borrowed the copy he
worked from--or thumbed it until it fell to pieces. Dorn said he never
came across such a Beethoven enthusiast, and he felt sure something
would come of it. We know something did come of it. Weinlig had taught
him the principles of musical form as well as harmony and
counterpoint, and thus made the grasping of the plan of each
masterpiece an easier task; and to Weinlig the world owes a huge debt
of gratitude. Richard acknowledged the debt; and after Weinlig's death
in 1842 he dedicated _The Love-feast of the Apostles_ to his widow.

II

Richard, when he was some years older, said bluntly he cared little
for his family; and some of the Wagner-mad Bayreuth host point out
that the family did little for him and did not understand him. One
might ask why they should be expected to do much: they had plenty to
do in looking after themselves. But no questions and no appeals to
sweet reasonableness are needed, for the very patent fact is that his
family helped him to the uttermost limit of their means. Geyer first,
his widowed mother afterwards, then Rosalie and his brother Albert,
without a doubt Louise--all did their best to ma