《我的生平——第一卷》

My mind was still reeling when I met Liszt again, and we talked first of Tannhäuser—I could barely bring myself to tell him I hadn’t left Dresden as a royal conductor on holiday, but as a fugitive. I still had no idea if I had broken any laws, or what would happen to me. Then alarming news came from Dresden: Röckel had been arrested for arson, charged with burning the Opera House. Liszt soon realized I was connected to the uprising, though I never admitted to being a combatant. We talked art at Princess Caroline of Wittgenstein’s house, and I even pitched my Jesus of Nazareth idea, though I could barely summon enthusiasm for it, still shaken by what I’d lived through. A rehearsal of Tannhäuser stirred me briefly, moved by Liszt’s deep understanding of my work, but that night Liszt had a violent outburst of rage against the aristocracy that left him shaken with nerves. The next morning he left for Karlsruhe, and I was invited to meet the Grand Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, the Tsar’s sister, at Eisenach Castle; I went, still half-convinced I was dreaming. When I returned to Weimar, I found a letter from Minna: the police had searched our house in Dresden, and she had been warned I had a warrant out for my arrest, and would be seized if I returned. Liszt and his friends urged me to flee Germany immediately, but I begged to say goodbye to Minna first. They arranged for me to hide at a steward’s estate in Magdala, three hours away, where I stayed for three days, listening to a assembly of defeated revolutionary soldiers give rambling, bitter speeches. On the second day my host’s wife came back from Weimar with news that the composer whose arrest warrant had arrived that day was Röckel. My host laughed, and said he’d be stupid enough to get caught. I said nothing, the memory of my narrow escape from death in student duels flashing in my mind, already planning my next move out of Germany.