success.  I now had to consider, however, what the difficulties were, which hitherto had prevented a similarly happy production of my own new conceptions.  Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, which was still such a problem to so many, and had, at all events, never attained to popularity, I had been able to make a complete success; yet, as often as it was put on the stage, my Tannhauser taught me that the possibilities of its success had yet to be discovered.  How was this to be done?  This was and remained the secret question which influenced all my subsequent development.

I dared not, however, indulge at that time in any meditation on this point with the view of arriving at any particular results, for the real significance of my failure, of which I was inwardly convinced, stood absolutely bare before me with all its terrifying lessons.  Albeit, I could no longer delay taking even the most disagreeable steps with the view of warding off the catastrophe which menaced my financial position.

I was led to this, thanks to the influence of a ridiculous omen.  My agent, the purely nominal publisher of my three operas—­ Rienzi, the Fliegender Hollander, and Tannhauser—­the eccentric court music publisher, C. F. Meser, invited me one day to the cafe known as the ‘Verderber’ to discuss our money affairs.  With great qualms we talked over the possible results of the Annual Easter Fair, and wondered whether they would be tolerably good or altogether bad.  I gave him courage, and ordered a bottle of the best Haut-Sauterne.  A venerable flask made its appearance; I filled the glasses, and we drank to the good success of the Fair; when suddenly we both yelled as though we had gone mad, while, with horror, we tried to rid our mouths of the strong Tarragon vinegar with which we had been served by mistake.  ‘Heavens!’ cried Meser, ‘nothing could be worse!’ ‘True enough,’ I answered, ‘no doubt there is much that will turn to vinegar for us.’  My good-humour revealed to me in a flash that I must try some other way of saving myself than by means of the Easter Fair.

Not only was it necessary to refund the capital which had been got together by dint of ever-increasing sacrifices, in order to defray the expenses of the publication of my operas; but, owing to the fact that I had been obliged ultimately to seek aid from the usurers, the rumour of my debts had spread so far abroad, that even those friends who had helped me at the time of my arrival in Dresden were seized with anxiety on my account.  At this time I met with a really sad experience at the hands of Madame Schroder-Devrient, who, as the result of her incomprehensible lack of discretion, did much to bring about my final undoing.  When I first settled in Dresden, as I have already pointed out, she lent me three thousand marks, not only to help me to discharge my debts, but also to allow me to contribute to the maintenance of my old friend Kietz in Paris.  Jealousy of my niece Johanna,