Nevertheless, my propositions lacked the one thing that would have made them valuable in his eyes, namely my consent to take over the management of the theatre in person, as he would not entrust the carrying out of my ideas to anyone but myself.  However, as I was obliged to declare then and there that I would not have anything to do with such a scheme, the matter dropped, and in my inmost heart I could not help thinking that the good people were quite right.

Meanwhile, the sympathetic interest in my works was increasing.  As I now had to refuse firmly to yield to my friends’ wishes for a performance of my principal works at the theatre, I begged to be allowed to arrange a selection of characteristic pieces, which could easily be produced at concerts, so soon as I could obtain the requisite support.  A subscription list was accordingly circulated, and it had the satisfactory result of inducing several well-known art patrons to put their names down to guarantee expenses.  I had to undertake to engage an orchestra to suit my requirements.  Skilled musicians from far and near were summoned, and after interminable efforts I began to feel that something really satisfactory would be achieved.

I had made arrangements that the performers should stay at Zurich a whole week from Sunday to Sunday.  Half of this time was allotted exclusively to rehearsals.  The performance was to take place on Wednesday evening, and on Friday and Sunday evenings there were to be repetitions of it.  The dates were the 18th, 20th, and 22nd of May, my fortieth birthday falling on the last-named date.  I had the joy of seeing all my directions accurately carried out.  From Mayence, Wiesbaden, Frankfort, and Stuttgart, and on the other side, from Geneva, Lausanne, Bale, Berne, and the chief towns in Switzerland, picked musicians arrived punctually on Sunday afternoon.  They were at once directed to the theatre, where they had to arrange their exact places in the orchestral stand I had previously designed at Dresden—­and which proved excellent here too—­so as to begin rehearsing the first thing next morning without delay or interruption.  As these people were at my disposal in the early morning and in the evening, I made them learn a selection of pieces from the Fliegender Hollander, Tannhauser, and Lohengrin.  I had greater trouble in trying to train them for a chorus, but this too turned out very satisfactorily.  There was nothing in the way of solo-singing, except the Ballad of Senta from the Hollander, which was sung by the wife of the conductor Heim in a good though untrained voice, and with an amount of spirit that left nothing to be desired.  As a matter of fact, the performances could hardly be called public concerts, but were rather of the nature of family entertainments.  I felt I was fulfilling a sincere desire on the part of a larger circle of acquaintances by introducing them to the true nature of my music, rendered as intelligibly as circumstances permitted.  As, at the same time,