He had a mania for being in the right. The slightest hint of disagreement, from anyone, onthe most trivial point, was enough to set him off on a harangue that might last for hours, in which he proved himself right in so many ways, and with such exhausting volubility, that in the end his hearer, stunned and deafened, would agree with him, for the sake of peace. It never occurred to him that he and his doing were not of the most intense and fascinating interest to anyone with whom he came in contact. He had theories about almost any subject under the sun, including vegetarianism, the drama, politics, and music; and in support of these theories he wrote pamphlets, letters, books ... thousands upon thousands of words, hundreds and hundreds of pages. He not only wrote these things, and published them—usually at somebody else's expense—but he would sit and read them aloud, for hours, to his friends, and his family.
他一味坚信自己总是正确的。任何人，在最无足轻重的问题上，哪怕露出一丝异议，也会惹得他大发议论。他也许会说上好几小时，鼓起如簧之舌，千方百计证明自己正确无讹。听的人弄得不知所措，到头来为了图个太平，也就同意他的说法了。他压根儿没有想到，与他有过交往的人，并不感到他这个人和他做的事最富有情趣，为之倾倒。他几乎对世间一切问题都有自己的见解，包括素食主义、戏剧、政治以及音乐。为了证实自己的观点，他写了小册子、书信、书……连篇累牍，好几百页。他不仅写了这些东西，拿去出版——所需费用往往是别人支付——而且常常接连好几小时坐着读给朋友和家人听。
He wrote operas, and no sooner did he have the synopsis of a story, but he would invite—or rather summon—a crowd of his friends to his house, and read it aloud to them. Not for criticism. For applause. When the complete poem was written,the friends had to come again, and hear that read aloud. Then he would publish the poem, sometimes years before themusic that went with it was written. He played the piano like a composer, in the worst sense of what that implies, and he would sit down at the piano before parties that included some of the finest pianists of his time, and play for them, by the hour, his own music, needless to say. He had a composer's voice. And he would invite eminent vocalists to his house, and sing them his operas, taking all the parts.
他写歌剧，往往刚有了个故事梗概，就邀请——或者更确切些说召集——群友人到他家来，把梗概念给他们听。不是请人批评指正，而是要人拍手叫好。整出戏的歌词写完后，朋友们得再来听他朗诵全剧。然后他就送去发表。有时歌词发表后好几年，配词的乐曲才创作出来。像一般作曲家那样，他也弹钢琴，可弹得糟透了。然而，尽管如此，他却常常坐在钢琴旁，面对包括他那个时代一些最杰出的钢琴家在内的一群人，一小时接一小时地为他们演奏个不停。不消说，弹的都是他自己创作的音乐作品。他有一副作曲家的歌喉。他还常常把著名的声乐家请到家里，亲自演唱他的歌剧给他们听，并且包揽所有角色。
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