and also described my own ideals about musical drama.  But the higher I soared the sadder he grew when I had once made known to him my hope of securing the patronage of the King of Prussia for these conceptions, and the working out of my scheme for an ideal drama.  He had no doubt that the King would listen to me with the greatest interest, and even seize upon my ideas with warmth, only I must not entertain the smallest hope of any practical result, unless I wished to expose myself to the bitterest disappointment.  ’What can you expect from a man who to-day is enthusiastic about Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauris, and to-morrow mad about Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia?’ he said.  Tieck’s conversation about these and similar topics was much too entertaining and charming for me to give any serious weight to the bitterness of his views.  He gladly promised to recommend my poem, more particularly to Privy Councillor Illaire, and dismissed me with hearty goodwill and his sincere though anxious blessing.  The only result of all my labours was that the desired invitation from the King still hung fire.  As the rehearsals for Rienzi, which had been postponed on account of Jenny Lind’s visit, were being carried on seriously again, I made up my mind to take no further trouble before the performance of my opera, as I thought myself, at any rate, justified in counting on the presence of the monarch on the first night, as the piece was being played at his express command, and at the same time I hoped this would conduce to the fulfilment of my main object.  However, the nearer we came to the event the lower did the hopes I had built upon it sink.  To play the part of the hero I had to be satisfied with a tenor who was absolutely devoid of talent, and far below the average.  He was a conscientious, painstaking man, and had moreover been strongly recommended to me by my kind host, the renowned Meinhard.  After I had taken infinite pains with him, and had in consequence, as so often happens, conjured up in my mind certain illusions as to what I might expect from his acting, I was obliged, when it came to the final test of the dress rehearsal, to confess my true opinion.  I realised that the scenery, chorus, ballet, and minor parts were on the whole excellent, but that the chief character, around whom in this particular opera everything centred, faded into an insignificant phantom.  The reception which this opera met with at the hands of the public when it was produced in October was also due to him; but in consequence of the fairly good rendering of a few brilliant passages, and more especially on account of the enthusiastic recognition of Frau Koster in the part of Adriano, it might have been concluded from all the external signs that the opera had been fairly successful.  Nevertheless, I knew very well that this seeming triumph could have no real substance, as only the immaterial parts of my work could reach the eyes and ears of the audience; its essential spirit had not entered their hearts.  Moreover, the Berlin reviewers in their usual way began their attacks immediately, with the view of demolishing any success my opera might have won, so that after the second performance, which I also conducted myself, I began to wonder whether my desperate labours were really worth while.