that I opposed the insufferable turban and caftan style of dress, and vehemently advocated the knightly garb worn in the early years of the Middle Ages.  I then had to come to a thorough understanding with the conductor, Stegmayer, on the subject of my score.  He was a remarkable, short, fat man, with fair curly hair, and an exceptionally jovial disposition; he was, however, very hard to bring to a point.  When over our wine we always arrived at an understanding very quickly, but as soon as we sat at the piano, I had to listen to the most extraordinary objections concerning the trend of which I was for some time extremely puzzled.  As the matter was much delayed by this vacillation, I put myself into closer communication with the stage manager of the opera, Hauser, who at that time was much appreciated as a singer and patron of art by the people of Leipzig.

With this man, too, I had the strangest experiences:  he who had captivated the audiences of Leipzig, more especially with his impersonation of the barber and the Englishman in Fra Diavolo, suddenly revealed himself in his own house as the most fanatical adherent of the most old-fashioned music.  I listened with astonishment to the scarcely veiled contempt with which he treated even Mozart, and the only thing he seemed to regret was that we had no operas by Sebastian Bach.  After he had explained to me that dramatic music had not actually been written yet, and that properly speaking Gluck alone had shown any ability for it, he proceeded to what seemed an exhaustive examination of my own opera, concerning which all I had wished to hear from him was whether it was fit to be performed.  Instead of this, however, his object seemed to be to point out the failure of my purpose in every number.  I sweated blood under the unparalleled torture of going through my work with this man; and I told my mother and sister of my grave depression.  All these delays had already succeeded in making it impossible to perform my opera at the date originally fixed, and now it was postponed until August of the current year (1834).

An incident which I shall never forget inspired me with fresh courage.  Old Bierey, an experienced and excellent musician, and in his day a successful composer, who, thanks more particularly to his long practice as a conductor at the Breslau theatre, had acquired a perfectly practical knowledge of such things, was then living at Leipzig, and was a good friend of my people.  My mother and sister begged him to give his opinion about the fitness of my opera for the stage, and I duly submitted the score to him.  I cannot say how deeply affected and impressed I was to see this old gentleman appear one day among my relatives, and to hear him declare with genuine enthusiasm that he simply could not understand how so young a man could have composed such a score.  His remarks concerning the greatness which he had recognised in my talent were really irresistible, and positively amazed me.  When asked whether he considered the