result in hard cash. Indeed, the marvels of the great city proved
so fascinating, that we started off in a cab, for all the world
as if we were on a pleasure trip, to follow up a plan I had
sketched on my map of London. In our wonder and delight at what
we saw, we quite forgot all we had gone through. Costly as it
proved, I considered our week's stay justified in view of Minna's
need of rest in the first place, and secondly, the excellent
opportunity it afforded me of making acquaintances in the musical
world. During my last visit to Dresden I had sent Rule Britannia,
the overture composed at Konigsberg, to Sir John Smart, president
of the Philharmonic Society. It is true he had never acknowledged
it, but I felt it the more incumbent on me to bring him to task
about it. I therefore spent some days trying to find out where he
lived, wondering meanwhile in which language I should have to
make myself understood, but as the result of my inquiries I
discovered that Smart was not in London at all. I next persuaded
myself that it would be a good thing to look up Bulwer Lytton,
and to come to an understanding about the operatic performance of
his novel, Rienzi, which I had dramatised. Having been told, on
the continent, that Bulwer was a member of Parliament, I went to
the House, after a few days, to inquire on the spot. My total
ignorance of the English language stood me in good stead here,
and I was treated with unexpected consideration; for, as none of
the lower officials in that vast building could make out what I
wanted, I was sent, step by step, to one high dignitary after the
other, until at last I was introduced to a distinguished-looking
man, who came out of a large hall as we passed, as an entirely
unintelligible individual. (Minna was with me all the time; only
Robber. had been left behind at the King's Arms.) He asked me
very civilly what I wanted, in French, and seemed favourably