My Life, vol 2 | Page 6

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
impelled to lay a foundation on which it might some day be possible to
present such a work, even though the end had to be gained by
roundabout means. To secure this object it seemed above all necessary
to approach those friends, both at home and abroad, who interested
themselves in my art, in order to expound to them more clearly the
problems that demanded solution, which, although definite enough to
my own mind, had scarcely as yet even entered into their heads. A
singularly favourable opportunity for so doing offered itself one day
when Sulzer showed me an article on 'Opera' in Brockhaus's Modern
Encyclopedia. The good man was fully convinced that in the opinions
expressed in this article I should find a preliminary basis for my own
theories. But a hasty glance sufficed to show me at once how entirely
erroneous they were, and I tried hard to point out to Sulzer the
fundamental difference between the accepted views, even of very
sensible people, and my own conceptions of the heart of the matter.
Finding it naturally impossible, even with all the eloquence at my
command, to elucidate my ideas all at once, I set about preparing a
methodical plan for detailed treatment of the subject as soon as I got
home. In this way I was lead to write this book which was published
under the title of Oper und Drama, a task which kept me fully occupied
for several months, in fact until February, 1851.
But I had to pay heavily for the exhausting toil expended on the
conclusion of this work. According to my calculations, only a few days
of persevering industry were needed for the completion of my
manuscript, when my parrot, which usually watched me on my
writing-table, was taken seriously ill. As it had already completely
recovered from several similar attacks, I did not feel very anxious.
Although my wife begged me to fetch a veterinary surgeon who lived
in a village which was rather far off, I preferred to stick to my desk, and
I put off going from one day to the next. At last one evening the

all-important manuscript was finished, and the next morning our poor
Papo lay dead on the floor. My inconsolable grief over this melancholy
loss was fully shared by Minna, and by our mutual affection for this
treasured pet we were once more tenderly united in a way likely to
conduce to our domestic happiness.
In addition to our pets, our older Zurich friends had also remained
faithful to us, in spite of the catastrophe which had befallen my family
life. Sulzer was without a doubt the worthiest and most important of
these friends. The profound difference between us both in intellect and
temperament seemed