displays of the first act, so he simply put in this unnecessary scene.  The patricians enter and whine, begging for mercy; Rienzi, now Tribune, joins the senators; and Colonna, Orsini and the rest begin to plot his death.  Adriano, amongst them unnoticed at first, expostulates—­begs them not to stain their hands and souls with the blood of the vanquisher who has treated them so magnanimously.  They scorn him as a deserter of his own class; they leave, and he swears to save “Irenens Bruder.”  He has become sentimentalist; but some of the music of the scene has strength.  Then the people conveniently flock in; ambassadors come from all corners of the earth to acknowledge Rienzi; Adriano warns him that mischief is breeding, and Rienzi calmly smiles; there is a most elaborate ballet, occupying many pages of the score and full of trumpery tunes; Orsini stabs Rienzi, and all the patricians are seized by the guards; Rienzi shows himself unhurt, being protected by a breastplate; the conspirators are condemned to die and are led away.  Then Adriano and Irene plead for Colonna; at first Rienzi is obdurate; then he, too, turns weakling and promises pardon.  He pleads for his enemies with the people; in spite of two citizens who see nothing but danger, he prevails, and the act ends with another huge chorus.  There is much very Italian stuff in the music; but on the whole this scene is the strongest in the opera.  Of the real Wagner there is still small sign.

He had completed these two acts when he set out for Paris.  Once he realized how poor were the prospects of getting his work played there, his ardour for bigness and noise seems to have cooled.  There are no more double choruses; everything is planned on a smaller scale.  The three remaining acts in their present form (for he afterwards shortened the opera) can be, and often are, compressed into two, or even one.  They can be described in a few words.  The people begin to distrust Rienzi; the patricians recommence plotting; Rienzi leads the people to victory against them, and Colonna, with the others, is killed.  Adriano again wobbles and swears vengeance; the capitol is set on fire with Rienzi and Irene inside; at the last moment Adriano repents and rushes in to die with them; the building falls with a crash, destroying the three; and as the curtain falls the patricians—­such as are left—­seeing the people leaderless, fall upon and scatter them.  There are pages on pages that one can scarcely believe came from Wagner’s pen; in terrific theatrical situations the most trivial Italian tunes are poured out in copious profusion.  The war hymn is sheer rowdyism; the great broad melody which forms part of the prayer, and on which the introduction of the overture is based, stands out from a weltering sea of orchestral bangs, noises and screams and skirls of the strings.  But there are numberless chances for fine voices to be heard; and at that time of day these were even more prized than they are to-day.  The sparkle, the fireworks, the sheer noise of the choruses, carried every one away.  In Dresden Wagner became the man of the hour.  He had aimed at a success of this sort, and he attained it, though by no means so quickly as he had expected, nor in the quarter where a success would have been profitable.