we come to the beginning of Wagner's riper work,
the _Dutchman_: time and space would only be wasted if we examined
_Rienzi_ very closely.

The curtain rises on a street in Rome; it is night, and in the
foreground Rienzi's house can be discerned. Orsini and his companions
run up a ladder to a window, enter, and come out carrying Irene,
Rienzi's sister. She screams for help quite in the Donna Anna manner;
Colonna and his companions come in and fall to blows--why, is not too
clear--with Orsini and his men. Adriano, Colonna's son, rescues Irene.
Crowds of the common people rush in, wildly asking one another what
the row is about; Raimondo, the pope's legate, comes on, and in the
name of holy mother church begs for peace; Rienzi, waked by this time,
sees what has occurred, and in a speech--uttered mainly in the driest
of dry recitative--taunts the patricians with their bad conduct and
their reckless readiness to break all the vows they have made. The
nobles announce their intention of going elsewhere to fight out their
quarrel to the bitter end, and they go. Rienzi beseeches the crowd to
wait their time, and he will lead them to destroy their oppressors.
They quietly disperse; Rienzi, Adriano and Irene have a scene; Rienzi
recognises in his sister's rescuer the son of his brother's murderer,
Adriano, and the latter, who has fallen in love with Irene, promises
to take Rienzi's part, and the three sing a trio as cold, undramatic
and commonplace as anything in Donizetti. There are two passages in it
which possess life: a variant of a theme from _Euryanthe_, and a theme
distinctly suggestive of the Wagner of _Tristan_. Then Rienzi goes
off, ostensibly to prepare for battle, but in reality to leave the
scene clear for Adriano and Irene to sing a rather maudlin love-duet.
A trumpet-call is heard; people rush in from all sides; Rienzi
addresses them; and after choruses, partly double-choruses, all go off
to fight the patricians. There is plenty of bustle; there is
tremendous vigour; and the scene affords chances for the stage manager
to manipulate big crowds effectively. But we must remember that the
thing had been quite as well done by Auber in _Masaniello_: even the
energy is not the true Wagnerian energy divine: it does not show
itself through the stuff of the music, but in the common rumty-tumpty
rhythms of the day, often offensively vulgar, and in the noisy
instrumentation. Any one can write for a big chorus and orchestra,
w