the kettle-drum on the second beat.  As this drum-beat stood out alone, the drummer, who continually thought he was making a mistake, got confused, and did not give the right sharpness to the accent as prescribed by the score.  Listening from my hidden corner, and frightened at my original intention, this accidentally different rendering did not displease me.  To my genuine annoyance, however, Dorn called the drummer to the front and insisted on his playing the accents with the prescribed sharpness.  When, after the rehearsal, I told the musical director of my misgivings about this important fact, I could not get him to promise a milder interpretation of the fatal drum-beat; he stuck to it that the thing would sound very well as it was.  In spite of this assurance my restlessness grew, and I had not the courage to introduce myself to my friends in advance as the author of the ‘New Overture.’

My sister Ottilie, who had already been forced to survive the secret readings of Leubald und Adelaide, was the only person willing to come with me to hear my work.  It was Christmas Eve, and there was to be the usual Christmas tree, presents, etc., at my brother-in-law’s, Friedrich Brockhaus, and both of us naturally wanted to be there.  My sister, in particular, who lived there, had a good deal to do with the arrangements, and could only get away for a short while, and that with great difficulty; our amiable relation accordingly had the carriage ready for her so that she might get back more quickly.  I made use of this opportunity to inaugurate, as it were, my entree into the musical world in a festive manner.  The carriage drew up in front of the theatre.  Ottilie went into my brother-in-law’s box, which forced me to try and find a seat in the pit.  I had forgotten to buy a ticket, and was refused admission by the man at the door.  Suddenly the tuning up of the orchestra grew louder and louder, and I thought I should have to miss the beginning of my work.  In my anxiety I revealed myself to the man at the door as the composer of the ‘New Overture,’ and in this way succeeded in passing without a ticket.  I pushed my way through to one of the first rows of the pit, and sat down in terrible anxiety.

The Overture began:  after the theme of the ‘black’ brass instruments had made itself heard with great emphasis, the ‘red’ Allegro theme started, in which, as I have already mentioned, every fifth bar was interrupted by the drum-beat from the ‘black’ world.  What kind of effect the ‘green’ theme of the wind instruments, which joined in afterwards, produced upon the listeners, and what they must have thought when ‘black,’ ‘red,’ and ‘green’ themes became intermingled, has always remained a mystery to me, for the fatal drum-beat, brutally hammered out, entirely deprived me of my senses, especially as this prolonged and continually recurring effect now began to rouse, not only the attention, but the merriment of the audience.  I heard my neighbours calculating the return of this effect; knowing the absolute correctness of their calculation, I suffered ten thousand torments, and became almost unconscious.  At last I awoke from my nightmare when the Overture, to which I had disdained to give what I considered a trite ending, came to a standstill most unexpectedly.