The orchestra could further boast of a Herr Ott-Imhoff, a highly cultured and well-to-do man who belonged to a noble family, and had joined the orchestra as a patron and as an amateur musician.  He played the clarionet with a soft and charming tone which was somewhat lacking in spirit.  I must also mention the worthy Herr Bar, a cornet-player, whom I appointed leader of the brass instruments, as be exercised a great influence on that part of the orchestra.  I cannot remember ever having heard the long, powerful chords of the last movement of the C minor Symphony executed with such intense power as by this player in Zurich, and can only compare the recollection of it with the impressions I had when, in my early Parisian days, the Conservatoire orchestra performed Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.

Our production of the Symphony in C minor made a great impression on the audience, especially on my intimate friend Sulzer, who had previously kept aloof from any kind of music.  He became so incensed when an attack was made on me by a newspaper that he answered the gratuitous critic in a satirical poem composed with the skill of a Platen.

As I have already said, Bulow was invited in the course of the winter to give a pianoforte recital at a concert at which I promised to produce the Sinfonia Eroica.

With his usual audacity he chose Liszt’s piano arrangement of the Tannhauser Overture, a work as brilliant as it is difficult, and therefore a somewhat hazardous undertaking.  However, he caused quite a sensation, and I myself was astounded at his execution.  Up to this time I had not paid it the attention it deserved, and it inspired me with the greatest confidence in his future.  I frequently had occasion to admire his masterly skill both as conductor and accompanist.

During that winter, apart from the occasions in my young friend’s life already briefly alluded to, there were frequent opportunities of displaying his capabilities.  My acquaintances used to foregather in my house, and formed quite a little club for the purposes of mutual enjoyment, which, however, would hardly have been successful without Bulow’s assistance.

I sang suitable passages from my opera, which Hans accompanied with an expressiveness which delighted me very much.  On an occasion like this I also read aloud extracts from my manuscripts.  For instance, during a series of successive evenings I read the whole of my longer work, Oper und Drama, written in the course of this winter, and was favoured by a steadily growing and remarkably attentive audience.

Now that after my return I had secured a certain degree of peace and tranquillity of mind, I began to think of resuming my more serious studies.  But somehow the composition of Siegfried’s Death did not seem to appeal to me.  The idea of sitting down deliberately to write a score which should never go further than the paper on which it was written, again discouraged me; whereas I felt more and more strongly