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Letters from Bayreuik 
 
 JOSEPH BENNETT 
 
Letters from Bayreuth. 
 
Letters from Bayreuth 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE AND CRITICAL 
 
 OF 
 
 WAGNER'S. 
 
 "Der Ring des Nibelungen" 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX 
 
 JOSEPH BENNETT 
 
 (Special Correspondent of the "Daily Telegraph") 
 
 40c 
 
 LONDON : NOVELLO, EWER AND CO. 
 
 MDCCCLXXVII. 
 
NOVELLO, EWER AND CO., 
 
 Printers, 
 
 69 & 70, Dean Street, Soho, London, W. 
 
WISHING TO DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK TO 
 
 A VALUED FRIEND 
 
 AN ACCOMPLISHED MUSICIAN, 
 
 THE AUTHOR HERE INSCRIBES THE NAME OF 
 
 ANGELINA GOETZ. 
 
 \ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 With two exceptions the "Letters" which make up this book 
 originally appeared in the Daily Telegraph, in 1876, and are 
 reproduced with the consent of the proprietors of that journal, 
 to whom the author's warmest thanks are due. 
 
 As an excuse for their presentation in a collected form, it may 
 be urged that, at this distance of time, no other English writer is 
 likely to follow the example of the German, French, and Italian 
 critics by offering to his countrymen a permanent record of an 
 interesting artistic event. Conscious of his ability to deal with 
 the great theme only in an inadequate manner, the author 
 would gladly have surrendered it to any one of the able 
 colleagues who were with him at Bayreuth. 
 
 The Letters, written from day to day during the performance 
 of Der Ring des Nibelungen, have not been retouched, and are 
 therefore a statement of first impressions which, however 
 erroneous, may at least claim the merit of genuineness. 
 
 London, May 1, 1877. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 July 21. 
 Next month the eyes of the entire art-world will be 
 directed towards the little Bavarian town of Bayreuth, 
 watching the production, in a series of performances three 
 times repeated, of Bichard Wagner's crowning work, Der 
 Ring des Nibehmgen. Some difficulty may arise in ascer- 
 taining the whereabouts of the place, and far more in 
 imagining an adequate reason for its choice as the locale 
 of an event with which, per se, it has no right of association. 
 Here, however, Mr. Edward Dannreuther, a competent 
 authority and guide on all matters Wagnerian, steps in. 
 "Bavarian Bayreuth," he tells us, "is a charming, quiet, 
 old town, with a literary and social past by no means 
 despicable, healthy, prettily situated, easily accessible, and 
 ,in the very centre of Germany." But the place seems to 
 have been chosen more for what it is not than for what it is. 
 " It has no regular theatre," continues Mr. Dannreuther,. 
 " and consequently no theatrical or fashionable public, no 
 leading newspaper, political, clerical, or literary; ita 
 negative credentials, in a word, are perfect. Then why not 
 Bayreuth?" Why not, indeed ? if it be necessary to isolate 
 the ultimate manifestation of Wagner's ideas from the active 
 life of the day. We are assured that "the trilogy is as little 
 
2 INTBODUOTOBV. 
 
 fit for the miscellaneous public of a fashionable watering- 
 place as for the subscribers of a Stadt or Hoftheater ; and 
 as its performance, in any case, must partake somewhat 
 of a private nature (a sort of family feast which the musical 
 elite of the world prepares for itself), it appears obvious 
 that the less such an undertaking comes in contact with 
 certain equivocal elements of public life in great or fashion- 
 able towns the better for all parties concerned." I cannot 
 argue this with Mr. Dannreuther, but may venture to point 
 out that, if Wagner's art-work is to be "of the Future," 
 its manifestation must not be limited, like the preaching 
 of John the Baptist, to desert places. No doubt a good 
 many Pharisees and some unbelieving Sadducees will find 
 ■their way to Bayreuth next month, with a chance of bap- 
 tism to the new faith, and unquestionably the imagination 
 is struck by the idea of a perfected music-drama born in a 
 place which has, in a distinctive sense, neither politics, 
 religion, literature, or art. Yet needs must, some time or 
 other, that it encounter the conditions of life in the great 
 world; and the sooner we learn that, though conceived with- 
 out reference to such a result, it is compatible with those 
 conditions, the higher will be our estimate of its value. 
 But whether or not a need existed for going into the 
 Bavarian wilderness with the Nibekmgen, nothing could 
 be done without a theatre specially built, and wholly 
 devoted to long and elaborate preparation by artists called 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. S 
 
 from all points of the compass. Even a slight acquaint- 
 ance with the Nibelungen proves this ; nor is it more 
 difficult to understand why Wagner wished to get away as 
 far as possible from the ordinary operatic atmosphere. 
 Years ago he declared that the lyric drama, then and now 
 accepted as such, had succeeded in making " the mob 
 fastidious, the upper classes vulgar, and the entire body of 
 spectators vulgarly fastidious duffers." To all these con- 
 siderations the fact is due that the Art-Work of the Future 
 will be unveiled to the elite (with a proportion of Pharisees 
 and Sadducees) in a special theatre, near an -obscure 
 provincial town, inhabited by people who don't read 
 newspapers and know nothing of art save what may be 
 learned from wandering practitioners. 
 
 It must not be supposed by those who have just heard 
 Tannhcvuser for the first time, and lately made acquaint- 
 ance with the word Nibehmgen, that the Bayreuth per- 
 formances are the result of a sudden fervour. As a matter 
 of fact, we go back twenty-five years to . the earliest 
 announcement of their inception, since which time the 
 idea has been kept in view with the patience and resolute- 
 ness characteristic of all those by whom great things are 
 done. It was in 1847 that the master turned his attention 
 seriously to the Nibelungen myth as a subject for lyric 
 drama, and not long afterwards a poem entitled "Siegfried's 
 Tod " was finished and in the urinter's hands. Wagner 
 
INTEODUOTOEY. 
 
 himself tells us, however, that, so far, he had no practical 
 object in view. " I planned and carried out my poem of 
 'Siegfried's Tod'" — so writes he in a "Communication to 
 his Friends " — " simply to satisfy an inward impulse, and 
 in no way with the idea of producing it on our stage, with 
 its existing theatrical appliances, which I could not possibly 
 help considering unsuitable to the purpose. It was not 
 until very recently that there was awakened in my bosom 
 a hope that, provided certain circumstances turned out 
 favourably, and after a certain time, I might be in a 
 position to bring this drama before the public, but not, 
 however, till after the successful results of certain pre- 
 parations destined to prove, as far as possible, that the 
 performance would be effective. This is likewise the 
 reason of my still (1851) keeping back the poem. At the 
 period in question — namely, the autumn of 1848 — I never 
 thought there was any possibility of producing the piece ; 
 I looked upon its poetically-technical completion, and the 
 attempt to carry out musically certain parts, merely as a 
 source of inward satisfaction which I gave myself at a 
 time when I waa disgusted with public affairs, and had 
 drawn back from them." The " inward impulse " to 
 which Wagner here refers did not cease its action with the 
 finish of " Siegfried's Tod." Partly because the charm of the 
 ancient Teutonic epic grew upon him, partly through the 
 influence of an idea by-and-bye to be spoken of, Wagner 
 
LETTERS FBOM BAYRETJTH. 
 
 began to see the possibility of a masterwork unequalled of 
 its kind in point of dimensions. The immediate result was 
 another poem, " Junger Siegfried ; " but still his view 
 expanded, and, finally, embraced that which the world is 
 soon to know by more than report, as the three dramas of 
 Der Ring des Nibebingen, with an introduction, Das Bheingold. 
 More than this, there dawned upon the master the hope of 
 presenting his great work at a special festival.. To conceive 
 the idea was, with him, at once to make it known, and in 
 the "Communication" already quoted we read : " I intend 
 presenting my myth in three complete dramas, which a 
 grand prelude will precede. With regard to these dramas, 
 though each one is certainly to form an independent whole 
 in itself, I have no intention of writing any ' stock-pieces,' 
 according to modern theatrical ideas, but have resolved on 
 the following plan for their representation : I propose 
 producing, at a festival got up at some future time 
 expressly for this purpose, the three dramas with the 
 prelude in the course of three days and an introductory 
 evening. I shall look upon the object of the performance 
 as completely attained if I and my artistie companions, the 
 actual representatives, succeed in conveying artistically my 
 aim to the real intelligence of the feelings (not critical 
 intelligence) of those spectators who shall have assembled 
 to become acquainted with the said aim. Any further 
 consequence is as much a matter of indifference to me 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 as it necessarily appears superfluous." The approaching 
 representations at Bayreuth embody, therefore, the aspira- 
 tions, and are destined to crown the labours, almost of a 
 lifetime. To them Wagner has been looking for nearly 
 thirty years, and, whatever their result, they will command 
 the respect due to unflinching resolution and patient labour, 
 in union with a lofty purpose. How sternly these qualities 
 were exacted by circumstances can be shown in few words. 
 It was not till the early months of 1856, two years after 
 the completion of the Nibelungen poem, that Wagner began 
 setting it to music ; but he laboured so earnestly that in little 
 more than a year he had finished " Das Eheingold," " Die 
 Walkiire," and a portion of " Siegfried." Then trouble set 
 in, taking the form of despondency arising from a conviction 
 that the work would never see the light. So powerful was 
 this feeling, that only when the King of Bavaria accorded 
 Wagner his patronage in 1864 did he again address himself 
 to the herculean task. Meanwhile, he had composed 
 Tristan und Isolde and Die Meistersinger — works better 
 adapted to the resources of the German stage, and calcu- 
 lated, as events proved, to strengthen popular feeling on his 
 behalf. Once more, however, there was delay. Wagner's 
 presence in Bavaria raised a storm before which he retreated 
 to Zurich, and the Nibelungen Festival seemed again far 
 off. But the darkest hour is that which immediately pre- 
 cedes the dawn, and the dawn began in this case with an 
 
LETTEBS FEOM. BAYBEUTH. 
 
 idea started by Carl Tausig. Tausig was a fit champion 
 of Wagner — a man who, like Siegfried, would go through 
 fire to win the Briinnhilde of success — and he actually set 
 about discovering a thousand Germans willing to lay down 
 £45 each in order to carry out the festival project. It is 
 scarcely necessary to add that he failed, or that he died in 
 1871, leaving the outlook seemingly as dark as before. But 
 the idea of the gifted and regretted pianist survived him, 
 starting into full activity when the fact dawned upon some 
 shrewd mind that forty-five subscribers of £1 each are just 
 as good, financially speaking, as one subscriber of £45. 
 Here was the key to success, and, forthwith, Wagner 
 Societies arose on all hands and in many countries. Money 
 poured in, necessary arrangements were hopefully made, 
 and, writing last month, Mr. Dannreuther was able to say : 
 " The theatre is built and paid for, stage arrangements and 
 preliminary rehearsals completed ; in short, all expenses 
 defrayed up to the present day, and a balance in hand of 
 upwards of 15,000 florins." Upon the whole undertaking, we 
 are told, there must needs be a serious loss, foreseen from 
 the beginning ; but the fact only increases our admiration 
 of the pluck which, through years of discouragement, has 
 at last attained the wished-for end. 
 
 The theatre, which now stands close to Bayreuth, is not 
 the least noteworthy feature in a remarkable enterprise. 
 It has been described as " a solid structure of red brick 
 
8 INTKODTJCTOKY. 
 
 and wood, neither beautiful nor ugly, without the slightest 
 attempt at architectural show, but exactly fit for its pur- 
 pose." So far, it is by no means unique, but the interior 
 arrangements are altogether so as regards the " audito- 
 rium," which is intended to accommodate less than 1,500 
 persons. The peculiarity of this part of the building 
 consists in the fact that there are neither side boxes nor 
 side galleries. Every seat faces the stage, and only those 
 in the end gallery are raised above the level of the floor ; 
 the object being, apart from any question of convenience, 
 to secure the invisibility of the orchestra, which Wagner 
 has stationed down in a pit. His theory is that no 
 executive apparatus should come between the spectator 
 and the drama — no gesticulating players upon instruments, 
 no baton-waving conductor, no orchestral lamps, and no 
 prompter's box. All these are stowed away out of sight, 
 while such parts of the house as command a view of them 
 in their present position are purposely left tenantless. 
 Nothing, therefore, will disturb the scenic illusion of the 
 stage, between which and the audience comes only a screen 
 of orchestral music; rising from its source in the pit, and 
 colouring whatever is seen through it with hues of sen- 
 suous beauty. Strange to say, the idea of such a 
 theatre is not new, though as far as Wagner is concerned 
 it may be original. A correspondent of Le Guide 
 Musioale points out that it occurred to Gretry long before 
 
LETTERS FROM BAVREUTH. 
 
 the birth of the composer of Der Ring des Nibelungen, 
 and was thus expressed by the French master : " Were I 
 a manager, I should say to my architect, ' Eecollect that 
 what we here want is not a monument constructed solely 
 to be looked at and to produce a grand effect on the eye; 
 the essential point is that we may be able to hear perfectly 
 all that is said upon the stage. ... No boxes, small 
 or big. I would have a circular house, all rising in steps ; 
 each place convenient and separated by slight lines of 
 demarcation an inch high. After the orchestra for the 
 musicians a series of steps should form a single circular 
 amphitheatre, gradually rising, with nothing above it save 
 a few trophies painted in fresco. The orchestra should be 
 veiled from view, and neither the musicians nor the lights 
 of their muBic-stands should be seen from the side of the 
 audience. The effect would be magical, and we know that 
 in all cases the orchestra is never supposed to be where it 
 is." Save that Wagner's auditorium is wedge-shaped, and 
 that of Gretry circular, the agreement of the two designs 
 iB perfect — so perfect that we find it easier to believe in 
 Wagner borrowing from his predecessor than in any 
 accidental coincidence. 
 
 I come now to the artistic principles which in Der Ring 
 des Nibelungen Wagner definitely illustrates. These, 
 I may assume with confidence, are but little understood 
 outside the limited circle of enthusiasts who have made 
 
10 ■ INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 their study a close pursuit ; and the fact arises, not from 
 any reticence on Wagner's part in expounding his meaning, 
 but from the involved, turgid, and wordy fashion in which 
 he writes. Ordinary readers, even of a careful and, as far 
 as possible, lucid translation — that, for example, which 
 appeared in the Musical World, from the pen of Mr. J. V. 
 Bridgeman, five years ago — soon grow weary of trying to 
 fathom an explanation needing itself to be explained, and 
 as a result the vast mass of those into whose hands musical 
 literature passes have but a hazy notion of the matter at 
 issue. In saying this I do not judge Wagner harshly. 
 Rather do I accept his own estimate of himself; for in his 
 " Communication " we read, " How painful this kind of 
 intercourse [addressing his ' friends ' by pamphlet] is 
 for me I need not, probably, assure those who know me 
 as an artist ; they will themselves perceive it from the 
 style of my literary works, in which I must worry myself 
 in the minutest particulars to express that which I would 
 fain give concisely, lightly, and glibly in the art-work 
 itself So hateful to me is this literary busi- 
 ness, and the necessity which has compelled me to turn 
 author, that, when writing this ' Communication,' I hope I 
 appear for the last time as a literary man before my 
 friends." Apart from the fact that Wagner was destined 
 still further to " worry " himself and others by a form of 
 expression neither concise, . light, nor glib, I cannot but 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYRETJTH. 11 
 
 regret, for the master's sake, that his hope failed. But 
 leaving this point, let me try to give, in language as clear 
 as the subject allows, some idea of the theories now actually 
 in process of manifestation. 
 
 .First of all, it is necessary to clear the ground of a 
 notion that the Nibelungen " stage plays " make any 
 pretensions to be regarded as operas — in other words, that, 
 appertaining to the same class as Don Giovanni and 
 Fidelio, they invite judgment as an advance upon those 
 masterpieces. If it can be established that no such pre- 
 tensions are raised — that, in point of fact, Wagner now 
 brings forward a new thing, to be estimated for itself alone, 
 and not by comparison — a huge difficulty is at once 
 removed, and the question becomes liberated from a great 
 deal of encumbering matter. On this point let Wagner 
 himself speak, in a sentence the significance of which 
 cannot be overrated : "I write no more operas, and, as I 
 can invent no arbitrary name for my works, I call them 
 ckamas, because 'by my doing so I at leaBt most clearly 
 define the standpoint whence what I offer must be accepted." 
 These words, penned in 1851, deserve at the time now 
 present most careful consideration, and should have 
 their just weight recognized. In view of them, that 
 which we know as opera retires from the field. It is, of 
 course, open to any man to say, looking at opera on the 
 one hand and Wagner's drama on the other, that this or 
 
12 INTBODUCTORY. 
 
 that confers the greater pleasure, just as he may choose a 
 peach before an apple or an apple before a peach. But it 
 is no longer possible, in the sense of being, fair and true, 
 to take opera into consideration when estimating the 
 merits of the new music-drama. Wagner has a perfect 
 right to insist upon this, and to say : " Here is something 
 evolved from my artistic consciousness by an independent 
 process ; it is not subject to any existing laws, because 
 constructed without the smallest reference to them ; and I 
 demand, therefore, a judgment on its merits." The result 
 is that, while we are entitled to reject the music-drama if 
 it do not satisfy us, we are debarred from abusing it 
 because it fails to coincide with something else. For my 
 own part, I gladly recognize the distinction Wagner lays 
 down. It enables me to approach the Nibelungen dramas 
 as M. Ollivier went into the German war — with a light 
 heart, and to accept them, if I must, without violence to 
 the affection entertained for other things, seeing in the 
 art-work they illustrate an addition to sources of pleasure, 
 not a substitute for any one of them. 
 
 It is important to observe further, while I am on the 
 negative side of the question, that Wagner expressly 
 repudiates the charge of being a conscious iconoclast. 
 Popular opinion represents him as a fanatic image-breaker 
 who, having forced his way. into the sanctuary of art, 
 furiously smashes everything his axe can reach. " This 
 
LETTEBS PBOM BAYREUTH. 13 
 
 character," writes Wagner, "which they consider them- 
 selves bound to attribute to me, haunts the brains of most 
 of the musical critics when they do me the honour of 
 referring to me. Since they never trouble themselves 
 about the whole, it is, in the first place, only details 
 respecting form which can constitute for them the subject 
 of reflection, and the blame of their having to reflect with 
 regard to music they lay upon me, who advance towards 
 them with reflected music. Then, again, simply because 
 they have only the musician before them, they confound 
 me with certain hair-splitting, actual, absolute musicians 
 who — as such — can still make a show of producing works 
 of imagination only by the arbitrary variation and trans- 
 position of the form. In their grief at my destroying 
 the musical forms which were the salvation of established 
 custom, they go so far as to regard as a misfortune in store 
 for them any work that may be announced by nie, getting 
 so excited that they even actually imagine that my operas, 
 though utterly unknown to the managers, are inundating 
 German theatres. So absurd does fear render people." 
 Elsewhere Wagner explicitly states : " It was not by any 
 means on principle, and as a reflecting breaker of forms, 
 that I proceeded to the destruction [Wagner must mean 
 'proceeded to ignore,' for he has not destroyed] of the 
 aria form, the duet form, or any other usual operatic form; 
 but the omission of those forms resulted quite as a matter 
 
14 INTBODUCTOEV. 
 
 of course, entirely from the nature of the subject, the por- 
 trayal of which in a manner intelligible to the feelings, 
 and by the expression necessary to it, was the sole thing 
 about which I cared." On the strength of his own words, 
 then, let me take Wagner out of the false light which gives 
 him an unreal hue, and truthfully formulate him thus : — 
 
 1. He is not a writer of operas, but of dramas, to which 
 music is subordinately allied for particular purposes and 
 under special conditions. 
 
 2. He is not the active enemy of musical forms, but 
 simply one who cannot use them in the task upon which 
 he is engaged. 
 
 Now we are on firm ground, and see clearly what is 
 before us. We approach, untroubled by lines of commu- 
 nication with extraneous matters, Wagner's finished work, 
 and regard him not as a destroyer to be assailed for doing 
 violence to things consecrated by great genius and uni- 
 versal worship, but as a creator, who invites our suffrages 
 to place that which he has made upon some vacant pedestal 
 in the Walhalla of art. At the same time, none of us can 
 forget that, if Wagner be not, as he declares, an iconoclast, 
 the distinction is sometimes hard to draw, and the fact 
 that most people think otherwise arises from his own 
 behaviour. Bitter words, the pouring out of contempt and 
 scorn, may result from an irascible condition of mind, but 
 the world cannot always discern between the consequences 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYEEUTH. 15 
 
 of momentary weakness and the expression of deliberate 
 conviction. 
 
 Passing now to what "Wagner is and does, as distinct 
 from what he is not and does not, and premising that the 
 intention is to be expository, not critical, I must first 
 point out that the perfected music-drama claims judgment 
 as a whole. It has already. been seen how much contempt 
 Wagner pours upon those of his critics who view him as a 
 musician only, instead of as a producer of works whereto 
 both poetry and music are essential. He complains, in 
 fact, of being regarded as an ordinary opera-composer, for 
 whom some litUratewr has saddled and bridled a verbal 
 hobby that he might "witch the world with noble horseman- 
 ship." Making no pretensions to such a character, Wagner 
 demands that his works shall not be judged solely from the 
 musician's point of view. He stands forward, in fact, as 
 the mixer of a compound, having three ingredients, all 
 necessary though not all co-ordinate — poetry, music, and 
 stage representation. Over the third I may now pass as 
 not affecting the "important question raised by the nature 
 of the union between the first two. Wagner starts with 
 the idea that the object of dramatic representation is to 
 excite the imagination and arouse emotion. To this end 
 musical language — exclusively the language of sensation — 
 is a direct means. But music is incapable of going 
 beyond purport. It cannot precisely define the object 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 of the sensation. " The necessary extension and ex- 
 pansion of the musical linguistic expression consist, 
 therefore, in the acquisition of the power of portraying, 
 with recognizable sharpness, the Individual and Special, 
 and this power musical language can acquire only by a 
 union with verbal language." Thus words and music 
 appear as the complement of each other. Without the 
 first the second is vague ; without the second the first is 
 weak. But we make a mistake by supposing that the 
 necessary union can be arbitrarily effected. While, on the 
 one hand, music must ally itself only to what is similar in 
 verbal language, there must be in the verbal language a 
 yearning for a real sensual expression of feeling. The 
 existence of this yearning is the mark of fitness for the 
 work the tone-poet has to do, and the stronger it is " the 
 more decidedly does the subject require an expression 
 which the language of tone only can supply with suitable 
 copiousness." It'follows from this that the musician will 
 choose his subject with reference to its power over his 
 emotions — in other words, with reference to fitness for 
 human expression ; while the music to which he allies it 
 will be the natural outcome of the feelings it has excited. 
 It follows also — I am reproducing Wagner's own argu- 
 ment, Men entendu — that the word-tone poet will seek 
 his subject where he is likely to find it most purely and 
 intensely human. He has to deal, aB Wagner says, with 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 17 
 
 the " Purely Human, freed from all Conventionality," and 
 hence we find the author of Der Ring des Nibehingen 
 turning his back upon everything in the nature of historico- 
 political life to seek his materials among the myths 
 and fables of antiquity, which can be dealt with from 
 an emotional and imaginative standpoint, at pleasure. 
 Wagner did not discover the necessity of this course till he 
 approached the story of Frederic Eedbeard, with a view 
 to its dramatico-musical treatment. Then he found out 
 that such themes are not musical, and that they entail the 
 subjection of the poetic faculty to minor and unworthy 
 considerations. Abandoning Frederic Eedbeard, he ap- 
 proached Siegfried — the " Purely Human, free from all 
 Conventionality " — and found himself, he observes, " in a 
 perfectly new path, struck out by me with unconscious 
 necessity — a path in which, as an artist and a man, I 
 advanced towards a new world." 
 
 It is curious to observe with what earnestness Wagner 
 insists upon his subjection to an " unconscious necessity." 
 By such means was he driven to the unfettered humanity 
 of the mythos, and by such means, when there, were the 
 nature and form of his musical expression determined. 
 He admits doing nothing as a matter of choice, but every- 
 thing as a logical result from which there was no escape. 
 The force of this law influenced him in the rejection of 
 established musical forms, but the result was arrived at 
 
18 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 only by slow degrees. How the change at length came 
 about he has told us in his usual elaborate fashion, the 
 gist of the argument lying in the subjoined extract: 
 "The fact of inToluntarily knowing the traditional form 
 still influenced me so much in my Flying Dutchman that 
 every person who attentively examines the piece will 
 perceive that the form frequently guided me in the arrange- 
 ment of my scenes ; it was gradually, first with Tannhauser, 
 and then in a more marked degree with Lohengrin — that is 
 to say, as I gained a clearer insight into the nature of my 
 subject and the mode of portrayal requisite for it — that I 
 entirely shook off the influence of form and regulated the 
 representation more and more decidedly only by the re- 
 quirements and peculiarity of the subject and situation." 
 
 We have now arrived at the main bases of Wagner's 
 theory, and may define them in set words, as thus : — 
 
 1. An intimate union of poetry and music for the 
 production of an effect which neither can create alone, 
 and for the purposes of which each is subjected to 
 a condition, viz., the poetry 'must be that only which 
 "yearns" for musical expression, while, on its side, 
 the music must unreservedly adapt itself to the 
 requirements of the poetry. But, inasmuch as in 
 this union the generative power belongs exclusively to 
 poetry, then — 
 
 2. There can be no question of submission to arbitrary 
 
- LETTERS FROM BAYEEUTH. 19 
 
 musical forms, which, indeed, lie outside of the matter 
 altogether, and possess no title to recognition. 
 
 Subordinate to these general principles are others of 
 great importance to Wagner's scheme of a perfected music- 
 drama. It is well known that his later works are mainly 
 based upon a few distinctive themes, identified with the 
 leading persons and situations. Wagner tells us, in an 
 interesting way, how this characteristic feature arose. 
 Before the Flying Dutchman was composed, he had written 
 and set music to the ballad for Senta, now found in Act % 
 that ballad being "a condensed picture of the whole drama." 
 Afterwards the musical picture thus made expanded over 
 the drama, and, says Wagner, "I had merely to develope 
 according to their respective tendencies the various thematic 
 germs comprised in the ballad to have, as a matter of course, 
 the principal mental moods in definite thematic shapes before 
 me. When a mental mood recurred, its thematic expression, 
 also as a matter of course, was repeated, since it would 
 have been arbitrary and capricious to have sought another 
 motivo so long as tne object was an intelligible representa- 
 tion of the subject and not a ' conglomeration of operatic 
 pieces.' " But now as to the formation of the themes 
 "themselves. At the outset of his career, Wagner adopted 
 the traditional melody, seeking originality by means of 
 harmonic and rhythmical artifice, as in Rienzi, where he 
 employed the Italian-French style of Spontini. In the 
 
20 INTBODUCTOKY. 
 
 Flying Dutchman he advanced towards the Folks-melody, 
 with its sharp rhythms and buoyant animation, but he 
 found that this was only applicable where the subject 
 touched upon national elements. As, however, he was 
 determined to have no more to do with ordinary operatic 
 tunes, "unconscious necessity" obliged him to seek 
 melody in the feeling delivery of the language. But here 
 he found himself hampered by the melodic poverty of 
 modern verse, which, according to Wagner, has a fancied, 
 not an actual, rhythm. So situated, he was bound 
 either to follow the verse and write music wanting in 
 rhythmics, or, having invented a rhythmic tune, to engraft 
 it artificially upon the poetry. Wagner adopted the first 
 course, making up for deficiency of rhythm by what he 
 styles a "harmonic animation of the expression," and by 
 a more and more characteristic accompaniment of the 
 orchestra — a plan fully illustrated in Lohengrin. There 
 still remained, however, the need of finding out some way 
 of rhythmically animating the melody out of the verse ; 
 and to this discovery Wagner's guiding star led when it 
 pointed out Siegfried as a subject. In this hero the mas- 
 ter saw "man in the most natural and most joyous fulness 
 of his sensually-animated manifestation ; no historical garb 
 any longer circumscribed him; no relation arising from 
 without at all impeded him in his movements, every one of 
 which was so regulated, out of the inmost source of his love 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYRETJTH. 21 
 
 of life, that error and confusion, nourished in the wildest 
 
 play of the passions, could be heaped up all around him 
 
 to his evident destruction without his having for one 
 
 moment, even when face to face with death, checked the 
 
 inward source in its welling stream outward, or considered 
 
 aught as possessing authority over him and his movements, 
 
 save the necessary outstreaming of the restlessly-bubbling 
 
 inward fountain of life." To put modern verse, with its 
 
 "indistinct bodiless form," into the mouth of such a 
 
 splendid being was impossible, and Wagner asserts that 
 
 the subject would have been altogether abandoned had he 
 
 not discovered, where he found Siegfried, a perfect linguistic 
 
 expression. This was the alliterative verse of the old 
 
 Scandinavian and Teutonic poets — " a verse in which the 
 
 people themselves once wrote poetry, when they were still 
 
 poets and myth-creators." An example of this will be 
 
 more instructive as to its form and texture than any 
 
 amount of description, and I give, therefore, an English 
 
 imitation and translation, by Messrs. Magnusson and 
 
 Morris, of the last verse in the "Lay of Sigurd" (Siegfried), 
 
 as found in "The Story of the Volsungs and Niblungs:" 
 
 "Much have I spoken, 
 
 More -would I speak, 
 If the sword would give me 
 
 Space for speech ; 
 But my words' are waning, 
 
 My wounds are swelling — 
 Naught but truth have I told — 
 
 And now make I ending." 
 
22 INTRODUCTOHY. 
 
 It is in verse thus nervous, emphatic, and rhythmic that 
 Wagner has written Der Ring des Nibelwngen, and this 
 alone, he contends, satisfies the requirements of the music- 
 drama. 
 
 We have now followed Wagner along his course to the 
 point where he stands at present, and seen how, from a 
 perception of the principles upon which verse and music 
 should be allied, he passed to the evolution of melody 
 from the spirit of verse, and then to the adoption of that 
 form of verse which, in his view, best aids musical expres- 
 sion. Apart, then, from the fundamental principles stated 
 above, the Bayreuth performances illustrate — 
 
 I. The excellence of the myth as subject-matter, because 
 dealing with a humanity evolved, so to speak, from the 
 national life, and free from all entangling associations. 
 
 II. The spontaneous melody growing out of a feeling 
 delivery of the words. 
 
 III. The value of the ancient alliterative verse as lend- 
 ing itself to the purposes for which music and poetry are 
 associated. 
 
 Here my preliminary task ends. 
 
"DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 Bayebuth, Aug. 12. 
 Mb. Danneeutheb is quite right in insisting upon the 
 negative qualifications of Bayreuth as a place for the Wagner 
 Festival Stage- Play. It is itself a negation, and a stranger 
 may wander long about the streets without coming into 
 contact with anything suggestive of the living, active, and 
 positive world, unless, indeed, he encounter a big Bavarian 
 soldier. Of all dull towns I imagine Bayreuth, in its 
 normal state, to be the dullest. Moreover, the utter 
 sluggishness of the place has its impression heightened by 
 plentiful signs that, once on a time, there was life here. 
 In the fine old days when Germany grew princes wholesale, 
 Bayreuth had its little court and was a little capital. The 
 potentate whose sway it owned called himself, I believe, a 
 Margrave, and contrived, somehow or other, to keep up a 
 considerable state. He built palaces, whereof two stand in 
 the town, and, though used for a variety of purposes, are 
 decaying with a fit air of dignity. The third, some two 
 miles off, serves to perpetuate the memory of its builders, 
 much as the Brighton Pavilion immortalizes our own George 
 
24 " DEE EING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 the Fourth. But these edifices are by no means the only 
 signs of Bayreuth's dead-and-gone grandeur. The place 
 abounds in fine old houses ; its streets are adorned with 
 some very respectable statues — that, among others, of Jean 
 Paul Bichter, who lived and died here — while numerous 
 fountains are continually pouring out streams of clear 
 water. These fountains, by the way, are a distinctive 
 feature of the town which they serve to ornament as well 
 as to bless. Of course they trace their origin to the Mar- 
 graves, and the question at once arises why it was that the 
 tyrannous old German princes expiated their bad ways by 
 providing so much water. Once on a time they built 
 churches, but the logic of that course is clear enough, and, 
 unless they saw in the "pure element" a symbol of the 
 " mystical washing away of sin," I cannot account for the 
 fountains. The Bayreuth churches, let me add, are not 
 remarkable, and it is to be feared that the Margraves cared 
 very little about them. On the whole, the town has a 
 stately and dignified look, but is wofully faded. It is a 
 tenth-rate Versailles, crossed with a sleepy provincial 
 borough. Sleepy! I should think so, indeed! Even 
 now, when the place has been galvanized into prodigious 
 activity, one can easily distinguish Bayreuthers from 
 strangers. The native and his favourite beast of draught, 
 the ox, are well matched, both going dreamily through 
 life at the slowest possible pace, and with a constant 
 
LETTERS FEOM BAYBEUTH. 25 
 
 disposition to lie down and ruminate. Just now, as I 
 have said, Bayreuth is uncommonly alert, having actually 
 two things on its mind at once — making money in abun- 
 dance out of the strangers within its gates, and spending 
 a little economically in decoration. The first of these 
 operations Bayreuth will certainly carry out with success, 
 and, as regards the second, a convenient decision has been 
 arrived at to the effect that there is something exhilarating 
 in the appearance of the fir which chances to abound 
 on the neighbouring hills. The result is that Bayreuth 
 has a fir eruption out all over it. Great branches, stuck 
 in the ground to resemble trees, line the pavements — or 
 rather the space where pavements should be — festoons 
 of fir cover the fronts of the houses, and wreaths of the 
 same cheerful material, made more lively by paper flowers, 
 are stuck wherever room can be found for them. Adding 
 to this a crowd of poles, from which in due time — for the 
 Bayreuther is' careful of his bunting — flags will fly, and it 
 must be granted that the inhabitants, considering their 
 normal sleepiness, have bestirred themselves to some pur- 
 pose, even though, like John Gilpin's spouse, they do not 
 overlook the value of "a frugal mind." 
 
 The most conspicuous figure in Bayreuth life just now is 
 made by the strangers who swarm all over the town and 
 are contemplated by the natives with placid wonderment. 
 They are certainly worth contemplating, as being a remark- 
 
26 "der ring des nibelungen." 
 
 able crowd of curious people. Let me frankly say that 
 never before did I see so many short-sighted folk, with long 
 hair and "loud" hats, gathered together in one place. 
 The ambitious literary youth of England used to imagine 
 an intimate connection between genius and the Byron 
 collar, but they had a model which these Wagnerites lack. 
 Why, then, is it that faith in the "Art-Work of the 
 Future " goes in company with spectacles, long hair, and 
 funny head-gear ? I confess I cannot tell. There must 
 be a reason, else hardly would the phenomenon manifest 
 itself in men who have come from all points of the compass 
 and have nothing in common save their faith. An eager race 
 are they, and a splendid contrast to the slow Bayreuther. 
 You may see them flying along the road that conducts to 
 the Wagner Theatre, " larding the lean earth," a la 
 Palstaff, as they go. Or you may see them dart off 
 towards Wagner's villa, there to be outer-court worshippers; 
 for the master does not indiscriminately "receive." Or you 
 may see them racing about the streets, stopping suddenly 
 whenever some fresh manifestation of Wagner is made by 
 a shop window, which means stopping every few yards, for 
 upon the man who has given Bayreuth fame Bayreuth, in 
 turn, bestows whatever it can of honour. The whole town is, 
 so to speak, given up to him, and you see him everywhere. 
 In photographs and statuary, on pipe-bowls and tobacco- 
 boxes, on toilet ornaments and album covers — on countless 
 
LETTEBS FEOM BAYEEUTH. 27 
 
 things, indeed, appear the well-known face and form. Nor 
 is this all. Wagner's music floats about the streets. Here 
 a soprano may be heard declaiming at the top of her voice 
 some passage from the Nibelungen ; here a tenor, and there 
 a bass, labour hard and lustily ; or, perhaps, a violinist 
 has got up among the harmonics, or a pianist is hammering 
 out a succession of " diminished sevenths," which clash 
 against each other in their search for a key never to be 
 found. Whatever the music may be, it is in the " Ercles' 
 vein," and the performer cultivates passion. I declare to 
 you that I have not yet heard in Bayreuth a single quiet 
 melodic phrase. Music, here and now, is nothing if not 
 " sound and fury " ; nor do musicians deserve the name 
 unless they rave and roar. Well, these are times when the 
 world lives fast and has sharp emotions. 
 
 I have already referred to Wagner's house — "an eligible 
 residence standing in its own grounds," and one which 
 points to the fact that a musician " of the future " need 
 not be prepared, as a matter of necessity, to sacrifice the 
 present. Let me confess to looking upon this, the master's 
 chosen home, with anything but complacency. One is 
 glad, of course, when genius meets with the reward of life's 
 good things. It rarely does so, because, perhaps, adversity 
 supplies better nourishment; but in the exception we 
 recognize that which is fitting. There is, however, about 
 Wagner's state a pretentious, theatrical air such as a 
 
28 " DEE EING DES NIBELTJNGEN. " 
 
 man of taste must regret to see. A house decorated 
 with gaudy frescoes and mottoes, bearing a fantastic 
 name, and surmounted, as now, by three tall poles, 
 from the top of which stream three large flags — such 
 a place I can associate with genius only by a severe 
 wrench. De gustibus, &c, of course, and nobody has a 
 right to complain, however sorry one may be that such 
 vanities give pleasure. But Wagner was never chargeable 
 with failing to exhibit his light in all sorts of ways and 
 places. He strives to keep himself before the world, and 
 if he attract passing attention by decorating his" house, 
 he is, at least, consistent. Though the house and the 
 theatre be wide apart, in this respect they are very close 
 together indeed. Pass we, then, at a step, to the edifice in 
 which, for three weeks to come, Wagner will exhibit his 
 perfected music-drama. The site has been well chosen, 
 some half-a-mile beyond the skirt of the town, and on the 
 top of a gentle eminence which itself is backed by a 
 wooded hill, crowned with a round tower. Eather a 
 pretty way runs thither, the tree-shaded road being 
 flanked by corn-fields and gardens, while the little terrace 
 in front of the building commands an interesting view of 
 the quaint old town and the hills beyond — a view none the 
 less German because the most prominent object in the 
 foreground, next to a lunatic asylum, is a big brewery. 
 Some attempt has been made to lay out the meadow 
 
LETTEES FROM BAYEEUTH. 29 
 
 through which the carriage way passes to the theatre as a 
 pleasaunce, but at present the trees are small, the walks 
 ill-kept, and the grass rough. Eoughness, indeed, is 
 characteristic of the whole affair, for, to say nothing of 
 the wooden houses flanking the main building, and devoted 
 to refreshment, the theatre itself seems to have been hastily 
 thrown up, and its courses of red brick ■, left innocent of 
 "pointing." Of architectural beauty the exterior has none 
 whatever. The object was utility, and, this gained, nothing 
 beyond was sought. In time to come, perhaps, when funds 
 are plentiful, the artist as well as the builder will have 
 to do with the place, and succeed in making it less of a 
 disappointment than it is now. As with the exterior, so 
 elsewhere. On entering the auditorium, one sees a 
 perfectly plain room, suggesting a college lecture hall on 
 a large scale. It is in the form of a parallelogram, 
 the stage occupying the centre of one of the long 
 sides ; the side opposite being devoted to a gallery for dis- 
 tinguished visitors (called the Princes' Gallery), having 
 another for less remarkable people above. The area seats 
 rise tier above tier from the brink of the space occupied by 
 the orchestra to the level of the Princes' Gallery, so that 
 every seat faces the stage, and commands a foil view of it. 
 A.s the seats spread out like a fan from below upwards, it 
 is obvious that there must be a large vacant space along 
 the shorter sides of the parallelogram. The effect of this 
 
30 " DEE EING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 is, however, broken by a division into bays, separated by 
 Corinthian columns supporting entablatures. Over these 
 entablatures and around the pillars are placed the gas 
 lamps — few in number, because during the performance the 
 house iB kept in darkness save for the light' reflected from 
 the stage. As the roof is low, and the distance from the 
 stage to the opposite side not great, one is struck on entering 
 with the apparent smallness of the place. In a little while, 
 however, the width of the auditorium asserts itself, and it is 
 possible to believe in the accommodation of some 1,500 
 people. Eegarding the arrangements behind the curtain I 
 cannot speak, but the working of the stage at the rehearsal 
 on Wednesday night was so perfect that reports of admirable 
 ingenuity may be credited without reserve. The rapidity, 
 silence, and smoothness with which the various changes 
 were made contrasted most favourably with the uproar and 
 clumsiness which theatre-goers are so often called upon to 
 notice, while the absence from view of all such executive 
 machinery as orchestra, prompter, and foot-lights made 
 the drama intensely real to the audience, who seemed 
 indeed to be " assisting" at it in a very forcible sense of 
 the term. This then is, in brief, the Wagner Theatre as 
 it awaits the revelations of the Wagner drama. 
 
 While I am writing, Bayreuth is busier than ever at the 
 work of decoration, and from my window I behold several 
 citizens in a condition bordering upon animation. The 
 
LETTERS FBOM BAYBEUTH. 81 
 
 phenomenon is due to the expected arrival of the Emperor 
 William, which event will come off in two hours' time. 
 Strangers meanwhile are pouring in, many of them to drift 
 helplessly about in search of a resting-place either not 
 found at all or only bought with much gold. 
 
 Bayreuth, Aug. 13. 
 A Kaiser does not come to Bayreuth every day, and it 
 must cheerfully be granted that the inhabitants made very 
 respectable, and unwonted, exertions to give Emperor 
 William a fitting welcome. Not only did they dress their 
 streets anil houses with the plentiful fir, but managed to 
 achieve a display of flags which would have done credit to 
 Gravesend what time some popular Princess passes 
 through that river gate. The Bavarian colours — blue 
 and white — were, of course, plentiful, and so were the 
 black, white, and red of the German Beieh. Of other 
 national flags I saw none, not even the Union Jack, which, 
 considering the swarm of English now here, might have 
 been shown, if only as a matter of courtesy to stranger, 
 guests. The Emperor arrived on Saturday afternoon, and 
 his progress through the town to the fantastic palace called 
 the Hermitage was a triumph. I am not sure that it is 
 needful to give minute particulars of an event which, if 
 
32 " DEK RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 memorable for the Bayreuthers, was not in itself remark- 
 able, nor shall I inflict upon you a list of the Eoyal and 
 othei dignities who came with or immediately after their 
 Imperial chief. Enough that the distinguished visitors 
 were so numerous that the officials, whose full evening 
 dress grew more and more dusty as the day progressed, 
 were kept on the alert till a late hour. As a matter of 
 course, the Emperor was serenaded by torchlight, but, as 
 the Hermitage is some miles away, you must take the 
 imposing effect of that ceremony upon trust, and not from 
 my description. This I can answer for — that Bayreuth 
 did not go to bed till eleven o'clock ; and, as it is usu- 
 ally fast asleep by ten, the sense of dissipation and of 
 " making a night of it " which generally prevailed may be 
 imagined. But, if Saturday was a great day, what shall 
 I say for Sunday, when, at an early hour, the popula- 
 tion, strengthened by crowds from all the country round, 
 descended into the streets, and kept those usually deserted 
 thoroughfares in a state of commotion till midnight ? Bay- 
 reuth, like Marguerite decked with the jewels, must have 
 doubted its own identity, and asked with puzzled surprise, 
 "Can this be I?" But the day was one of puzzles all 
 round. The provincial folk from the hills and plains 
 walked about in wonderment, staring hard at Wagner's 
 painted villa. Bands of youths in wonderful braided caps, 
 and decked with mysterious insignia, furnished strangers 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 33 
 
 with matters of curious inquiry ; while, as train after train 
 brought hundreds of fresh arrivals, the question of what 
 was to be done about food and lodging became more and 
 more a riddle. The spare house-room in a town of 18,000 
 inhabitants is necessarily limited — and limited, I am obliged 
 to say, most of us found the commissariat yesterday. At 
 hotels people begged a meal in vain, and it was only after 
 a hot and dusty walk to the huge restauration adjoining 
 the Wagner Theatre that a reasonable prospect of restoring 
 exhausted nature opened out. However, the day wore on, 
 and, as the blinding, brilliant sun drooped in the west, all 
 Bayreuth poured itself along the road to the ugly temple 
 from which is to shine a new light upon German Art. 
 
 The scene in the neighbourhood of the building became 
 really animated and picturesque towards seven o'clock, at 
 which hour the performance of Das Rheingold, the 
 prologue to Der Ring des Nibelungen, was announced 
 to begin. From the terrace the eye commanded a long 
 stretch of the thronged highway, and of the flag-decked 
 town beyond, while near at hand were assembling the 
 component parts of such a gathering as the art-world 
 rarely sees. A polyglot gathering it was, and to move 
 about amongst it gave one an idea of the confusion that 
 must have prevailed at the foot of Babel. English, French, 
 German, and Italian were mixed up in jabbering confusion, 
 but in the minds of all, I will venture to say, there was often 
 
34 " DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 a single thought : " This is a great day for Wagner." A 
 great day, verily — so great that it is easy to imagine the 
 master looking back incredulously upon the time when, as 
 he somewhere says, with a hahMiumorous sense of degra- 
 dation, he " made pianoforte arrangements of Halevy's 
 operas." Let us think what we will about Wagner's 
 theories, let us detest his music as'we may, and entertain 
 what opinions we choose as to the means he has adopted 
 to assert both, there is no getting away from the fact that 
 through long years of opposition or indifference — laughed 
 at by some, treated with silent scorn by others — he has 
 persevered, till now a great nation, headed by its Emperor, 
 sits at his feet, and the whole civilised world, moved by 
 curiosity or admiration, gathers round. The qualities 
 necessary for such a career are no ordinary ones, and I 
 am very sure that the most hearty opponent of Wagner's 
 principles was yesterday generous enough to sympathise 
 with his amazing triumph. 
 
 But while we are gossiping thus on the terrace, the 
 gaily dressed crowd are moving quickly into the theatre, 
 and the road yonder has become lined with people waiting 
 to see the Emperor and his companions pass. Now, too, 
 a trumpeter advances, and blows a phrase from the 
 Gotterdammerung by way of signal that places should 
 be taken. Let us obey. When at length Emperor, 
 Princes, and Mightinesses of various orders have also seated 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYRETJTH. 35 
 
 themselves, what an audience is gathered in front of 
 that mysterious curtain 1 Were there at our elbow some 
 timely informant who knows all, he might say, passing 
 over the exalted personages with whom everybody is 
 acquainted, " Yonder is Liszt, as the representative of 
 modern German music, and around him are hundreds of 
 his fellow-eountrymen, who are also his fellow-artiste. It 
 is true we do not see Heller, or Brahms, or Eaff, or 
 Yolckmann, or Joachim ; but German art is here in mass, 
 if some of its heads are wanting. America has sent Laing 
 from cultivated Boston. Yonder is Hanslick, of Yienna, 
 most terrible of thrusters at the joints in Wagner's 
 harness. Filippi, of Milan, is not far off ; Albert Wolff, 
 of Paris, sharpens his pencil above us ; from England 
 have come Benedict, Bandegger, Davison, and a score 
 others." But we do not want to be told this. We are as- 
 sured, without such details, that Wagner is now to be 
 tried by a very special jury indeed — men of eminence 
 gathered from every land, to command whose notice is in 
 itself an honour. There is little time for personal observa- 
 tion. Hardly have the oecupants of the Pursten Gallerie 
 taken their places before the gas is turned down, sounds 
 are heard from the eoneealed orchestra, and a peremptory 
 command for silence runs round the house. 
 
 It will hardly be news to say here that Wagner prefaces 
 the three dramas of Der Ring des Nibelungen with an 
 
36 
 
 DEB RING DES NIBELXJNGEN. 
 
 introduction in one long act, called Das Rheingold. 
 This work, the music to which was composed at Zurich 
 as long ago as 1856, has been some years before the world, 
 and is well known in Germany. Nevertheless, in the 
 hearing of the English public it must be spoken of as a 
 new thing ; and first with regard to its bearing upon the 
 rest of the story. The central idea of Wagner's great 
 drama — regarded, at all events, as a source of action — is 
 the pernicious influence of a talisman which, originally 
 conferring upon its owner the gift of power, has become 
 connected with a curse. In the Rheingold we witness, 
 so to speak, the birth of these influences, and the first of 
 the results destined to be continued " to the bitter end" 
 in the body of the work. The prologue introduces us to a 
 strange world. We are among the fantastic creations of 
 Teutonic mythology. Gods and giants, water-maidens, 
 imps of the, nether regions, and all manner of fabled won- 
 ders pass before us. Of the real world we see nothing. It 
 is a region of fancy, where anything may happen, and- 
 where, as a matter of fact, many things do happen of a 
 very strange and terrible sort. Wagner tells us that the 
 true materials for a national music-drama lie here. If so, 
 I can only marvel that pantomime-writers have been so 
 long unconsciously hovering on the verge of a great dis- 
 covery. Let me describe the scenes and incidents exhi- 
 bited on the stage of the Wagner Theatre last night. 
 
LETTERS PROM BAYREUTH. 37 
 
 When the curtain rises, after a few bars of undulating 
 music on a pedal bass, we are looking at the depths of the 
 Rhine, through which float Woglinda, Wellgunde, and 
 Flosshilde, the Ehine Daughters who there watch and ward 
 a certain golden treasure. Presently comes up from the 
 depths below a dwarf, Alberich the Nibelungen. Seeing 
 the Ehine Daughters, he is enamoured of their beauty, 
 and makes love to them after his fashion, they mean- 
 while playing off upon him as much coquetry as though 
 they were daughters of earth. The game having been 
 carried on till the dwarf burns, as he says, " with lust and 
 rage," a diversion arises when brighter rays from above 
 reveal the gold. Alberich asks what it is, and hears that 
 measureless wealth and power will belong to the man who 
 shapes a ring from the metal, but that he only can do it 
 who forswears love. Exasperated with the sportive maidens, 
 Alberich fulfils the condition, seizes the gold, and disappears. 
 The next scene reveals a stately castle in the distance, 
 and, in the foreground, Wotan and Fricka asleep. Moved 
 by dread of coming doom, Wotan had engaged the giants 
 Fafher and Fasolt to build this stronghold, offering as a 
 reward the beautiful goddess Freia. On awaking he is 
 reminded by his wife of the bond, but rests content with 
 an assurance that the subtle fire-god Loge will enable 
 him to evade it. Presently Freia enters, appealing for 
 help against the giants, who have come to claim their 
 
38 
 
 DEB RING DES NIBELTJNGEN. 
 
 reward- Wotart temporises with them. Other gods enter 
 upon the scene, followed at length by Loge, who, having 
 his own purpose in view, tells of the wealth which 
 Alberich enjoys, and of the power of the ring he has 
 fashioned. The giants' cupidity is thus excited, and they 
 offer to accept the gold and ring in payment. But, as 
 Wotan declines to give what belongs to another, they 
 depart carrying with them their prize. No sooner is 
 Freia gone than the gods, whose perpetual youth her fruits 
 had sustained, begin to grow old. Alarmed at this, and 
 yielding to entreaty, Wotan agrees to accompany Loge in 
 a raid upon Alberich's ill-gotten booty. Now we are 
 introduced to a subterranean cavern, aglow with fire, 
 filled with clouds of steam and noisy with sound of ham- 
 mers. This is Alberich's domain, the power of the ring 
 making him master over the horde of Nibelungen workers. 
 One of these, his brother Mime, has fashioned a tarn-helm, 
 which enables the wearer to assume any form, and he 
 would fain use it himself, but, with blows and curses, Al- 
 berich takes it from him. Presently, as Mime lies writhing 
 on the ground, Wotan and Loge enter, to hear through 
 him of the tarn-helm ; upon which the fire-god forms his 
 plan. Alberich returns, hunting a troop of his slaves, 
 and is instigated by Loge to show the tarn-helm's power. 
 First he assumes the form of a huge snake, and next that 
 of a toad, on which Wotan instantly puts his foot, and Loge 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 39 
 
 seizes the helm. Alberich at once resumes his proper 
 shape, but is bound fast by the gods and dragged upwards 
 as a prisoner. We are now on the earth's surface once 
 more, and see Alberich haled from below by his captors, 
 who insist, as the price of liberty, upon the hoarded gold. 
 This having been brought by the Nibelungs, the tarn-helm 
 is next demanded, and at last the ring also, Wotan tearing 
 it from the dwarf's finger amid cries and imprecations. 
 Then the captive is released, but as he limps away he 
 attaches to the ring a curse for its possessor: — 
 
 " To death under forfeit 
 fear shall have hand on his heart ; 
 
 through length of life, 
 day by day he shall die ; 
 
 so serve the ring, 
 
 though he seems its lord." 
 
 Now the giants return with their pledge (the gods resum- 
 ing their youthful look when Freia enters), and demand 
 as ransom gold piled before Freia till she is hidden. All 
 is surrendered, but her hair remains visible, and Fafner 
 demands the tarn-helm. Then Fasolt, seeing the light of 
 her eye through a chink, insists on the ring as a stop-gap. 
 But with this Wotan will not part, and the giants are 
 about to take Freia away, when the goddess Erda, rising 
 from the earth, solemnly warns Wotan to yield the cursed 
 thing. Eeluctantly he consents; the giants receive the 
 ring, and at once suffer from its bane. Quarrelling oyer 
 
40 " DER KING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 a division of the spoil, Fafner strikes Fasolt dead, packs 
 up the booty, and departs. Now the gods can take pos- 
 session of their castle. Donner summons a thunderstorm, 
 and on its clearing away a rainbow bridge is seen thrown 
 across the Khine, over which Wotan and the rest pass, 
 while the Ehine Daughters are heard from below lament- 
 ing the loss of their treasure. Then the curtain falls. 
 
 Eeserving observation upon this part of the legend till 
 the whole can be discussed, I pass to the music with which 
 Wagner has sought, in his own peculiar fashion, to illus- 
 trate it. Though with scarce so much rigidity as in the 
 later portions of the drama, Wagner here acts upon the" 
 principles which have been already described. We have 
 in Rheingold the continuous flow of formless music, the 
 vocal phrases supposed to grow naturally out of the verse, 
 the characteristic motivo associated with each personage, 
 and the rich orchestration that never ceases to pour over 
 the whole a flood of musical colour. Each of these 
 features produces its own result. The formless music 
 streams along the mind, so to speak, without passing 
 into it. Speaking generally, we are not drawn to a con- 
 sciousness of its presence, since it offers but little of 
 an intelligible character to lay hold of. That it works 
 upon the emotions in harmony with the drama — assuming 
 that such a fantastic story touches us at all — cannot 
 be denied. Wagner's music intensifies the poetic beauty 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 41 
 
 of his dramatic subject when it is beautiful, and also 
 makes its ugliness more pronounced when it is ugly. 
 This is no doubt his object, and he would say that the 
 thing must not be judged alone, but in association. Here, 
 however, the question arises whether an art so perfect in 
 itself is exhibited in a proper light when degraded to the 
 condition of a mere reflector of often unworthy things 
 placed in juxtaposition with it. The vocal phrases in 
 Das Rheingold may grow naturally from the verse in the 
 consciousness of their composer ; but no one else can be 
 expected to recognise the fact, or discern the natural 
 necessity for their unvocal character. Earely, indeed, do 
 we come upon a passage that can strictly be called melo- 
 dious, and, for the most part, the ear has to endure the 
 musical equivalent of "bald, disjointed chat." As to the 
 characteristic motivi, ingeniously varied though the man- 
 ner of their presentation be, they soon become wearisome. 
 The trick is not an exalted one, and Wagner works it 
 without mercy. His redeeming point lies in the orches- 
 tration, which, from first to last, is marvellous in its 
 skilful use of every resource. It requires some resolution 
 to turn from the drama to music having no meaning by 
 itself ; but, limiting attention to Wagner's orchestra, the 
 connoisseur enjoys a rich treat. Beautiful ideas, ingenious 
 devices, and constant variety are found there in pheno- 
 menal abundance. Such are the general impressions 
 
4Si " DER RING DES NTBELUNGEN." 
 
 derived from last night's work — impressions further 
 experience may modify, it is true, hut which at present 
 raise very serious douhts whether the new music-drama 
 has the smallest chance, apart from Wagner's personal 
 influence, of achieving popularity. 
 
 Preferring to the performance, it may he well to hegin by 
 stating the exact composition of the orchestra. There are in 
 this wonderful and most perfect machine thirty-two violins, 
 twelve violas, twelve violoncellos, eight double basses, four 
 flutes, four oboes, one English horn, three clarionets, one 
 bass clarionet, four bassoons, one contra-fagptto, seven 
 horns, four tenor and bass tubas, three trumpets, one bass 
 trumpet, four trombones, one double-bass trombone, one 
 double-bass tuba, eight harps, and the usual number of 
 drums. As may be imagined by connoisseurs, this 
 orchestra is, above all, rich in the volume and majesty of 
 its bass, the " sixteen-feet tone" brass and wood instru- 
 ments helping to produce effects of the highest grandeur ; 
 but at the same time the balance is as perfect as anything 
 can be. As for the unity, precision, and delicacy of its 
 playing, one can easily suppose that the finest artists of 
 Germany, under such a conductor as Hans Eichter, and 
 with unlimited opportunities for rehearsal, leave nothing 
 to desire. But, as a matter of fact, the Wagner orchestra 
 does more than meet bare requirements; it oppresses 
 the ear and mind, so to say, with a sense of full and ripe 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 43 
 
 perfection. Difficult though the music be, the tide of sound 
 rolls on with unbroken smoothness, reflecting lights and 
 shades with infinite delicacy from its surface; while the 
 fact that it streams upwards from a hidden source 
 impresses the imagination to an extent not dreamed of, 
 perhaps, either by Wagner or by Gretry before him. 
 Whatever may come of the festival in other respects, we 
 now know fully what an orchestra can do, and where in a 
 theatre it should be placed. The leading characters were 
 well sustained by Frederike Griin (Fricka), Marie Haupt 
 (Freia), Lillie Lehmann, Marie Lehmann, and Minna 
 Lammert (Ehine Daughters), Franz Betz (Wotan), 
 Heinrich Vogl (Loge), Carl Hill (Alberich), and Carl 
 Schlosser (Mime). Wagner is his own stage-manager, 
 and leaves but little to the option of artists; but the 
 ladies and gentlemen named above must be credited with 
 carrying out his ideas admirably. Nothing was done 
 on the stage without a purpose; and the bearing of 
 each god or goddess had a distinctiveness as marked in. 
 its way as the theme which represented him or ner in 
 the musical department of the work. Praise should 
 especially be given to Herr Vogl (Loge), whose imper- 
 sonation of the old-world Mephistopheles was throughout 
 admirable in a very high degree. The one drawback 
 associated with all this excellence lay in the fact that 
 very few of the artists could be called singers. Much 
 
■14 " DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 of whatever vocalism once existed on the lyric stage 
 in Germany has disappeared before the advance of 
 mere declamation, and the fact is here vividly — some- 
 times painfully — illustrated. But as Wagner's phrases 
 are more often declamatory recitative than melodies, the 
 want of vocalism cannot be looked upon as at all a fatal 
 defect. His artists, moreover, have frequently to make 
 themselves heard through such an orchestral din that 
 singing would avail them little. They must either shout 
 or scream, and they do it. Notwithstanding many 
 rehearsals, there were several blunders in the working of 
 the scenic department, and I am told that these exas- 
 perated Wagner to such an extent as to make him leave 
 the theatre. But the mistakes, though regrettable, inter- 
 fered little with success. Begarding the scenery itself, 
 I cannot say that anything astonishing was presented 
 to an English eye. The coup d'ceil, however,, was often 
 wonderfully beautiful, and some of the devices were bold 
 and novel in a high degree. The bed of the Bhine 
 presented a charming picture, although the floating of 
 the Bhine Daughters seemed a little too mechanical, and 
 wanting in freedom. More striking yet, perhaps, was' the 
 subterranean abode of the Nibelungs, into which we all 
 appeared to descend, while steam hissed fiercely out a 
 welcome. Nothing could have been more happy than the 
 idea of introducing steam to give reality to the glow of 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 45 
 
 l'eflected fires and increase the grimness of the place. 
 Praise was also deserved by the grouping and management 
 of the crowd of Nibelungen over whom Alberich tyrannised. 
 In fact, the entire scene was a masterpiece. Later on, 
 the coming up of the storm summoned by Donner, with 
 the lightning and thunder attending it, made a strong 
 impression ; but, on the other hand, the management of 
 the rainbow bridge over the Ehine to Walhalla did not 
 satisfy expectation. 
 
 Bayreuth, Aug. 14. 
 " Die Walkure," the first part of the drama proper, was 
 given last night, and it is necessary to begin this letter 
 by showing the connection of the story with the events 
 of Das Rheingold. A considerable interval of time is 
 supposed to have elapsed, in whieh Wotan, ever im- 
 pressed with a sense of coming danger to the godsj has 
 not been idle. No respecter of the marriage tie, he has 
 associated with Erda, the Earth-goddess, who has borne 
 unto him a band of nine warlike maidens (Walkyries) 
 destined to single out the noblest warriors slain in 
 battle and convey them to Walhalla as defenders of that 
 stronghold and of the gods. But above all has Wotan 
 remembered the Nibelungen ring, now possessed by the 
 giant Earner, who guards it in the form of a monstrous 
 
46 " DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 "worm." Unable himself to seize it, because unable to 
 break faith, Wotan longs for the talisman as a means of 
 defence against the enemies of his order; and he has 
 conceived the idea of producing a hero sprung from his 
 own race, but independent of the gods, and therefore 
 not able to compromise them, who shall get possession 
 of the prize. For this purpose he has lived amongst men, 
 and had a son, Siegmund, and a daughter, Sieglinde, to 
 the former of whom he has destined a sword, Nothung, now 
 buried to the hilt in the stem of an ash around which is 
 erected the house of Hunding, a warrior whom Sieglinde 
 has married. At the opening of Die Walkiire, the brother 
 and sister have been separated from their youth, and 
 Siegmund, a disarmed man, flying from enemies, is 
 unconsciously approaching Sieglinde's house, the rude 
 interior of which we see when the curtain rises to a 
 stormy orchestral accompaniment and to the roar of 
 thunder. The apartment is empty till the fugitive enters 
 and sinks exhausted upon a couch, where Sieglinde finds 
 him and ministers to his wants, without recognition taking 
 place. Soon are they mysteriously attracted to each other, 
 and Siegmund remains in the house till Hunding returns 
 from an expedition against the very man who now enjoys 
 his hospitality. Here, also, no recognition ensues till 
 Siegmund relates his adventure, upon which Hunding tells 
 him that he is safe for the night, but that in the morning 
 
LBTTEES FROM BAYitEUTH. 47 
 
 they two must do battle. Husband and wife then retire, 
 but as Siegmund muses upon his condition and upon the 
 mysterious attraction of his hostess, she returns (having 
 given her husband a sleeping draught) to hold further 
 talk with the stranger. Their mutual sympathy at 
 once developes into passionate love, which the discovery 
 of close relationship does not check. In rapture Sieglinde 
 points to the sword no man has yet been able to draw from 
 the ash-stem, and Siegmund at once releases it. Then she 
 exclaims, " in highest ecstasy," " Thy own sister winn'st 
 thou at once with the sword," while Siegmund answers, 
 " Bride and sister be to thy brother ; so blossom the Wal- 
 sung's blood." Here the curtain quickly falls. For the 
 present I refrain from comment upon this extraordinary 
 scene, passing on to the second act. Amid a wild rocky 
 region we find Wotan, conscious of the impending fight, 
 despatching Briinnhilde, a favourite Walkyrie, to guard 
 his son. As she goes away to arm, Pricka enters, and, 
 in her character as protectress of the marriage tie, insists 
 that Hunding shall be avenged. Wotan excuses the act 
 of Siegmund and Sieglinde ; but, as the result of a long 
 altercation, the god gives his word that Siegmund shall 
 fall, and Pricka triumphantly drives away. On Briinnhilde 
 returning, equipped for the mission, she hears from the 
 desponding Wotan the whole story of his devices to stay 
 the doom of the gods, but that, nevertheless, the hero 
 
48 " DEE KING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 Siegmund. must die. Briinnhilde protests that she will not 
 help the deed, and Wotan leaves her with words of warning 
 against the thwarting of his will. As she retires, Siegmund 
 and Sieglinde appear, the woman conscious of her shame 
 and full of self-reproach. Exhausted at last by emotion, 
 she faints, and then Briinnhilde stands before the doomed 
 hero to tell him of coming fate. Siegmund defies her, but 
 eventually his distress at leaving Sieglinde so works upon 
 the war-maiden's feelings that, heedless of Wotan's com- 
 mand, she promises to guard him in the fight. A storm 
 comes on, Hunding's challenging horn is heard, thunder 
 peals, and Sieglinde revives to. find her brother gone. But 
 presently the lightning shows him to her, and to us, on a 
 ridge of rock, in conflict with Hunding, while above floats 
 Briinnhilde as protectress. The maid is not, however, to 
 work her will. Another flash reveals Wotan on the side of 
 Hunding, with outstretched spear, -against which Sieg- 
 mund's trusted sword shivers at the moment that his 
 enemy deals a fatal blow. Briinnhilde has fallen back 
 before Wotan, and now, descending to the lower ground, 
 places Sieglinde on her horse and rides away. At a wave of 
 Wotan's hand Hunding falls dead, and the curtain comes 
 down as the god threatens vengeance against the flying 
 Briinnhilde. The third act opens amid rocks and caverns, 
 where Briinnhilde's eight sisters meet, some returning 
 through the air with the bodies of slain heroes over their 
 
LETTERS FROM BAVREUTH. 49 
 
 saddle-bows. Presently the ninth war-maiden appears, 
 bearing Sieglinde from the pursuit of Wotan. She appeals 
 to the rest for protection; but they are horrified at her 
 disobedience, and refuse. At this juncture Sieglinde 
 asks to die as a release from trouble. When, however, 
 Briinnhilde reveals the secret of her coming maternity, 
 she as ardently wishes for life, and hesitates not to wend 
 her way alone towards the sheltering wood in which 
 Pafner guards the ring, taking with her, as the war- 
 maiden's gift, the splinters of Nothung. Now comes 
 Wotan thundering along in storm. At first the sisters 
 try to hide Briinnhilde, and next they plead for her ; but 
 the god strikes her name out of the roll of the Walkyries, 
 and proclaims her banishment from his face for ever, 
 condemning her, moreover, to lose her divinity and to 
 sleep on the rock where they are till a man shall wake 
 her and claim her for wife. A touching scene follows, but 
 the god will only concede that no coward shall have the 
 maiden — that she shall be guarded by encircling fire through 
 which faint heart cannot pass. Much moved, Wotan takes 
 a tender farewell, and, kissing her eyes to sleep, lays her 
 down, helmeted, mail-clad, and covered by her shield. Then, 
 obeying his word, flames leap up to encircle the maiden, 
 at whom Wotan takes a last look, saying, as the curtain 
 falls, "Who fears to face the point of my spear will never 
 pass through the fire." 
 
50 " DEE BING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 Sucli is the story of Die Walkiire, and who cannot see 
 ftt a glance that it compares most favourably, in point of 
 strong human interest, and even in circumstance and 
 action, with the fantastic Das Rheingold? Who, moreover, 
 cannot trace the influence of this fact in the music ? Here 
 Wagner had to deal with sentiments and situations highly 
 poetical and deeply moving, which served to inspire him 
 almost out of his own principles. It is true that the 
 master never departs from the essential bases he has laid 
 down ; but very often, in Die Walkiire, he approaches as 
 nearly as possible to that which we commonly know as 
 music, and in the degree in which he does so is the result 
 beautiful. The whole of the first act is charming, simply 
 because the motivi upon which it is built, even that 
 representing Hunding, are true melodies. To these, 
 though they are repeated incessantly, the ear turns with 
 pleasure, above all throughout the long love scene for the 
 brother and sister. We may be disgusted with impending 
 incest ; but when the door of the house flies open, reveal- 
 ing the silver moonlight beyond, and Siegmund begins, 
 "Look how the spring laughs in the hall," we are carried 
 along by a stream of sensuous music, glowing with 
 luxurious colour, instinct with living melody, and in 
 harmony with truest poetry, which takes possession of us 
 and leads we t care not whither. Here, at least, is a proof 
 that, when Wagner pleases, he can produce that which is 
 
LETTERS FBOM BAYEEUTH. 51 
 
 musically beautiful. If he would only remember that 
 music, to be dramatic, need never be ugly, and that, for the 
 sake of beauty, some departure might be made from the 
 hard-and-fast lines of a theory, for how much more than 
 now the world would have to thank him ! In the second 
 act, Wagner falls back upon the hard-and-fast lines in 
 question, setting the dialogues of Wotan with Fricka and 
 Brunnhilde to most terribly wearisome and painful sounds 
 — for music it may hardly be called. The poor god drones 
 on, and the orchestra drones with him, till the ear rebels, 
 and excites the mind to a state of intense irritation. 
 Happily relief comes when Siegmund and Sieglinde enter, 
 and the entire act is redeemed by the solemnly beautiful 
 music of the scene in which Brunnhilde warns Siegmund 
 of his fate. Here again the charm is complete, though 
 of a different order from that pervading the first act, and 
 it is the more complete the more we recognise features 
 which the masters share in common. Nothing could 
 exceed the richness of the orchestration in this scene, or 
 the perfect harmony between the musical and dramatic 
 spirit. But the last act is the most remarkable of all. 
 It opens with a chorus for the Walkyrie maidens which 
 certainly has not its equal anywhere as an embodiment of 
 wild, vigorous, rejoicing life. The music tells its own 
 story, and as the voices rise one above another in strange 
 exulting phrases, supported by the surging orchestra, we 
 
52 " DEH EING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 want no interpreter of feeling or intention. This chorus 
 was received with a peal of spontaneous applause : and 
 it would be interesting to know how much of the tribute 
 arose from a sense of contrast to the monotony of a single 
 voice. In Das Rheingold there is no chorus at all (though 
 there are concerted passages for three voices), while in 
 Die Walkiire we have only that of the war-maidens. Very 
 grateful, consequently, was the effect of the change, and the 
 shout of pleasure from the audience may in part be regarded 
 as unconscious homage to one of the most important 
 features in ordinary opera. I might dwell long upon the 
 beauty of the scene which embodies "Wotan's farewell to 
 Brunnhilde, and discuss the tender expression of music 
 the effect of which is heightened by picturesque and 
 ingenious suggestiveness wholly beyond praise. But 
 enough that the drama closes in a manner worthy of its 
 opening, and leaves an impression not readily to be 
 effaced. A word for the orchestral writing must be added, 
 because in it lay the greatest source of pleasure. So rich 
 and satisfying were the instrumental passages in the 
 scenes where Wagner's theory allowed him to produce 
 beauty that the ear resented the intrusion of the voices 
 as an offence. " Let the orchestra alone," was the 
 instinctive command to the actors. Need this have been 
 the case? Is the negation of vocal charm a necessity of 
 the system ? 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 53 
 
 With regard to the performance, little fault could be 
 found beyond the general want of vocal skill. The cast 
 was as follows : Siegmund, Albert Niemann ; Hunding, 
 Joseph Niering ; Wotan, Franz Betz ; Sieglinde, Josephine 
 Schefzky; Briinnhilde, Amalie Materna; and Fricka, 
 Friederike Grun. It should be added that among the 
 Walkyries was Johanna Wagner, whose name English 
 amateurs will specially recognise. Herr Niemann's voice 
 was not at its best, but he played with entire spirit and 
 propriety ; while Herr Betz achieved prodigies among the 
 strange progressions allotted to him in the distressing part 
 of the second act. Sieglinde was admirably represented ; 
 but the chief honours fell to Frau Materna, whose Briinn- 
 hilde could hardly have been surpassed for gentleness and 
 dignity. Of all the characters in the entire drama, Briinn- 
 hilde is the noblest, and of all the artists here present the 
 one was chosen to play it who could best do it justice. 
 Again the orchestra covered itself with glory. I may say, 
 indeed, that this body of instrumentalists is a growing 
 wonder, for connoisseurs are only beginning to appreciate 
 its resources. The stage business was this time free from 
 mishap, and,-of consequence, its effects were good. Bach 
 act was applauded at its close, and the entire work made 
 a deep impression. 
 
54 " DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN.' 
 
 Batretjth 3 Aug. 17. 
 As Wagner's great drama unfolds itself, and as the weather 
 becomes, if possible, warmer, the expression of men's 
 opinions on the artistic questions at issue grows more 
 stormy. There are anti-Wagnerites here who, undeterred 
 by the fact that they are a hopeless minority, stand to their 
 guns like men, and make the various places of public resort 
 so many battle-grounds. On Tuesday night, I am sorry to 
 say, the conflict, from being one of intellectual give-and- 
 take, descended to the region of fisticuffs, one of Wagner's 
 followers, as pugnacious as his chief, taking the initiative. 
 A Berlin critic having, within earshot of this personage 
 — who represents the " Purely Human, freed from all 
 Conventionality " — said something obnoxious about the 
 Nibelungen, received a beer-can in his face, and had to 
 retire with a broken nose. Something approaching a free 
 fight is said to have resulted, and the Wagnerian champion 
 found reason to know that society, for its own sake, insists, 
 through a policeman, upon the " purely human " exercising 
 a little self-restraint. Siegfried may have been a glorious 
 hero when the earth was young, but the world, grown 
 old and conservative of order, hales him before a magis- 
 trate. 
 
 The postponed performance of the second part of Der 
 
LETTERS FEOM BAYRETJTH. 55 
 
 Ring des Nibelungen took place last night, in presence of 
 the crowded and remarkable audience who had already 
 listened to the prologue and Die Walkiire ; almost the only 
 absentee, I imagine, being the Emperor William, to make 
 up for whom, in point of numbers, at any rate, came the 
 Austrian Premier, Count Andrassy. The production of 
 Siegfried excited more than usual interest, because, unlike 
 Das Rheingold and Die Walkiire, it had never before been 
 heard in public. Here was something absolutely new, 
 though much of it was written years ago; and the 
 army of connoisseurs settled down into their places, 
 when the warning trumpet sounded, with a gusto plain 
 to see. 
 
 Taking up the story of the poem as now further developed, 
 I must remind the reader that at the close of Die Walkiire 
 the accursed ring remained in the possession of giant 
 Fafner, who, as a huge lizard or dragon, watched it and the 
 golden hoard. Also that Siegmund, the hero raised by 
 god Wotan to recover the talisman, perished in fight with 
 Hunding, and that his sister-wife fled into the forest, taking 
 with her the hope of maternity. Between these events and 
 the opening of Siegfried much has happened. The child of 
 Siegmund and Sieglinde has been born, at the expense of 
 the mother's life, which the attentions of Mime, the 
 brother of Alberich and maker of the tarn-helm, could 
 not save. Mime had met with Sieglinde in the forest, 
 
56 " DEB KING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 and, knowing her story perfectly well, resolved to train 
 up the child as a means of winning the ring and 
 hoard for himself. The boy Siegfried has grown up 
 under his care into a splendid human animal, full of 
 intense life, and of vague aspirations and ideas which 
 Mime does his best to check. Matters are in this 
 condition when the curtain rises to show a huge rocky 
 cavern, fitted as part dwelling, part smithy, and opening 
 into the sunlit forest. Here Mime labours at fashioning 
 a sword for Siegfried, grumbling that he can never please 
 the "mannerless boy," who has a habit of smashing the 
 weapons at a stroke. To him Siegfried presently enters, 
 leading captive a huge bear, and mightily enjoying the 
 fright of the Nibelung dwarf. Dismissing the animal 
 after a while, Siegfried tests the brand Mime has made, 
 with the usual result, and then falls into .a moody, 
 discontented vein, abusing the maker with expressions of 
 extreme disgust at such companionship. He has found 
 out that the animals in the forest have more than one 
 parent, and wants to know who and where is the mate of 
 Mime, his supposed father. "J was thy father, and mother 
 as well," replies the dwarf; upon which he is called a 
 " lying old fool." Siegfried will not have him now as a 
 father, and proceeds to get at the truth by violence, with 
 such success that Mime not only reveals the names and 
 circumstances of Siegmund and Sieglinde, but hands over 
 
LETTEKS FEOM BAYREUTH. 57 
 
 the pieces of the broken sword, Nothung. Highly excited 
 at this, Siegfried bids the dwarf mend the weapon, and 
 joyously proclaims his resolve to go forth free into the 
 world. Meanwhile he rushes out to calm the turmoil of 
 his feelings, and Mime, whose art cannot touch the 
 charmed steel, sinks down in despair at the prospect, of 
 Siegfried's escape. Here Wotan enters, disguised as a 
 wanderer, and, in a long dialogue, the two test each 
 other's knowledge of the circumstances in which they are 
 both interested. But when Mime is asked who will repair 
 the sword he cannot answer. "Only he," continues Wotan, 
 departing, "who has never known fear." Siegfried, having 
 returned and asked in vain for the mended sword, Mime 
 speaks to him of fear. But the young hero naively 
 observes, "Is it an art? It ought to be known. So talk 
 and tell me about it." Mime then tells him of the horrible 
 dragon Fafner, but Siegfried merely demands to go and 
 fight him: "Fetch me the sword, for Fear I will find." 
 Alas, Mime cannot repair it. "Bring me the bits, then," 
 exclaims the hero, and at once he proceeds to file them, 
 melt the dust, and refashion the weapon. As he does so, 
 Mime, chuckling at his own cunning, hits upon a plan to 
 secure the fruit of Siegfried's prowess for himself, and 
 brews a broth which shall send the victor to sleep. 
 Joyously Siegfried works and sings till the sword is 
 completed, and the anvil severed with it at a blow. Now 
 
58 " DBK BING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 the hero feels all the might within him, and, holding the 
 brand aloft, he exclaims, as the curtain falls, — 
 
 "Deadlay'st thou 
 and done with long, 
 now fierce like a flame is thy flash. 
 Break upon wretches, 
 broaden thy blaze 1 
 Fall on the false, 
 and fell the rogue." 
 
 The second act shows us the cave in the forest 
 where the dragon sleeps upon the ring and hoard. 
 It is night, and in the darkness hither come three 
 schemers for the prize. First Alberich enters, and 
 next Wotan, who, in the course of an altercation, is 
 warned by the dwarf that the ring once liberated would 
 work his ruin. But Wotan trusts in his spear, the emblem 
 and source of his power, and, as a retort, informs Alberich 
 that Mime is approaching with a young hero in the hope 
 of gaining the ring for himself. He even rouses the 
 dragon to warn him of the fate in store, and permits 
 Alberich to ask for the ring on condition of preventing the 
 combat. But the heedless beast merely roars and goes to 
 sleep again. Wotan having departed, while Alberich 
 conceals himself, Mime and Siegfried enter, the latter 
 coolly looking into the cavern without a sign of fear, and 
 then bidding the dwarf retire. Left alone, Siegfried 
 muses about his parents, and, never having seen a 
 woman, tries to conjure up a picture of his mother. 
 
LETTERS FEOM BAYRETJTH. 59 
 
 Day breaks, the forest noises increase, and the birds 
 
 sing in the trees. He "wonders what a warbler above him 
 
 means : " He says something to me ; maybe he has seen 
 
 my mother." Moved by the thought, he makes a pipe 
 
 with a reed, and imitates the bird in hope of learning the 
 
 language. But the effort is vain, and to console himself 
 
 he blows a tune on his little silver horn. This arouses 
 
 Fafner, who wallows out of the hole, to be received with 
 
 laughter. Mutual threats soon end in battle, and Siegfried 
 
 drives Nothung into the brute's heart. Drawing back the 
 
 weapon, Bome of the dragon's blood touches and burns his 
 
 finger, which he instinctively sucks to assuage the pain. 
 
 At once he knows the language of the birds, and hears 
 
 them tell him to seize the ring and helm as means of 
 
 power. This he proceeds to do, the two brother dwarfs 
 
 entering while he is in the cavern, and having a very lively 
 
 quarrel as to their respective claims on the booty. Both 
 
 hide themselves as Siegfried reappears, but Mime soon 
 
 proceeds to try his cunning, not, however, till after the 
 
 friendly bird has told the hero that the power of the 
 
 dragon's blood will enable him to hear from the dwarf's 
 
 mouth what he means at heart. All Mime's intentions 
 
 are thus revealed by the schemer himself, and Siegfried 
 
 strikes him dead at a blow. It is now midday. Siegfried, 
 
 weary, rests beneath a tree, musing on his loneliness. 
 
 Nature is strong within him, and he calls on the bird to 
 
60 " DEB EING DES NIBELTJNGEN." 
 
 win him the comrade he wants. For answer the bird tells 
 how Briinnhilde lies on her fire-guarded rock, waiting for 
 the man who shall claim her. The instinct of love blazes 
 up at this, and the curtain falls as Siegfried exultingly 
 follows his feathered friend along the way to the sleeping 
 maid. The third act opens in a wild country, amid thunder 
 and lightning, through which the restless and anxious 
 Wotan has come to consult Erda about the fate in store 
 for him. At the close of their interview the god rises 
 above considerations of self, and proclaims that the old 
 order shall pass away, but that the Nibelungs, or powers 
 of evil, shall not flourish, for Siegfried holds the ring, and 
 Briinnhilde shall one day redeem the world from its curse. 
 Erda sinks, and Siegfried enters, following his bird. Now, 
 for the first time, he encounters Wotan, and shows him so 
 little respect that the god, becoming angry, bars the way 
 with his spear. Once had Nothung touched that divine 
 weapon, and had shivered to pieces; but now it is the 
 spear that breaks, and with it the power of the gods. 
 Exclaiming, "Go on ; my hand cannot hold thee ! " 
 Wotan vanishes from the scene to prepare for the doom 
 that awaits him. On him, also, and his order has the 
 curse fallen. Brunnhilde's guarding fire is now reflected 
 from the mountain tops, and presently fills the Btage with 
 smoke and flame, through which, blowing his horn, 
 Siegfried plunges. On the clouds of vapour rising we 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYRETJTH. 61 
 
 behold once more the sleeping Briinnhilde, covered with 
 her armour, while Siegfried from the height of a rock 
 surveys her with wonder. Approaching, he removes the 
 shield, takes off the helmet, and is astonished at the 
 "clustering clouds" of hair, which "border in billows a 
 laughing lake of heaven." Next, he tries to undo the 
 breast-plate, but can only succeed by severing the iron 
 rings with his sword. At once the Woman is revealed, 
 and/o7 - the first time the strong Man knows fear. Siegfried 
 is lost in amazement. " What have I come to ! Can I be 
 a coward ? " he exclaims, as he kneels to waken Briinn- 
 hilde with a kiss. Slowly the maid lifts herself, hails the 
 sun, and asks who is the hero of her resurrection. She 
 recognises Siegfried, and. tells him, with rapture, how she 
 had striven to carry out the directions of Wotan, and had 
 suffered for the deed. None of this Siegfried understands. 
 To him Briinnhilde is merely the woman, and as such he 
 impetuously approaches her. But the divinity is still 
 existent, and the maid holds him aloof in s wonder and 
 alarm, entreating him to leave her. Presently a change 
 takes place. Human instincts awaken, and hero and 
 heroine passionately embrace, with words that express the 
 highest rapture of love. At this point the curtain falls, 
 and another resting-place in the course of the drama is 
 reached. 
 
 It is hard to resist here the inducements which tempt 
 
62 
 
 DEE KING DES NIBELTTNGEN. 
 
 me to dwell upon the drama I have outlined, and to 
 discuss, if only for one's own satisfaction, its combined 
 ingenuity and beauty. But the poem of Der Ring des 
 Nibelungen should be considered as a whole, and I pass on 
 to the general effect made by the representation. As may 
 be imagined from the nature of the subject and the 
 sternness with which Wagner ' carries out his theory that 
 the situation and sentiment should dictate the music, 
 there is much in the first act not beautiful. Wonder- 
 fully clever as a piece of musical mosaic, and fertile 
 in resource of expression as it may be, no pleasure 
 is given to the listener who cannot find all his interest 
 excited by the verses and incidents with which it is 
 connected. An exception must be made, however, in 
 favour of the music serving to express the abounding life 
 of Siegfried. Than this nothing could be happier. The 
 orchestra overflows with vigour, and works up a striking 
 motif — not unlike that of Handel's "Let us break their 
 bonds asunder " — with masterful power. Still more ob- 
 viously must all the music of the sword-welding scene be 
 excepted. Here again the effect is one of overwhelming 
 force. The young giant at the forge sings in the 
 exuberance of his life and strength, and the orchestra is 
 gigantic also, rolling out a torrent of sound which sweeps 
 before it all doubt and cavil. But the second act is the 
 gem of the work, as those who recall the poetic feeling 
 
LETTERS FKOM BAYEEXITH. 63 
 
 which dominates it will he prepared to hear. Over the 
 meeting of Alberich and Wotan we may pass (though 
 every page of the score is a marvel of ingenuity) to 
 arrive at the point where Siegfried enters. Here the 
 characteristic tendency of Wagner as a Gothic artist pur 
 sang brings the grotesque and the beautiful face to face. 
 What more grotesque than the dragon's shapeless bulk, 
 swinging tail, and roaring voice ? On the other hand, what 
 more beautiful than the idea of the birds filling the forest 
 with their warblings and talking to the hero in language 
 which he, by marvellous means, has learned to understand ? 
 Happily, too, the beautiful predominates, for Wagner, in 
 poem and music, has dwelt upon the situation lovingly. 
 His orchestral picturing is wonderful in its clearness and 
 fascinating in its charm. We hear the forest sounds 
 almost as though a forest itself were audible. The low 
 hum of life falls upon the ear, birds twitter in the 
 branches, and the entire scene is perfectly idyllic in its 
 sweet naturalness. It lasts long, but not too long, 
 and, though interrupted by a combat of man and brute 
 such as no stage art can make other than absurd, we look 
 back upon it at the close as upon that which has moved 
 imagination and sense to a height of pleasure rarely 
 attained. Here too, as always when the verses suggest 
 it, the vocal phrases, disjointed though they be, have 
 melodic charm. But the effect should be taken as a 
 
64 "der ring des nibeltjngen." 
 
 whole, and so regarded the Siegfried portion of this act is 
 recognised as a masterpiece of compound art — a grand 
 addition to the world's store of beauty. In the third act 
 the music to-the interview of- Wetan and Erda contains 
 some impressive passages, and more than ever excites 
 admiration of the skill with which Wagner interweaves 
 the large number of motifs he has now accumulated. But 
 the interest grows when Siegfried is brought face to face 
 with Brunnhilde, and a dialogue begins destined to end 
 with a love duet unexampled in its stress of passion. 
 Comparisons are here invited between this scene and that 
 in the first act of Die Walkiire, which I cannot but look upon 
 asin somerespects superior. Nevertheless, whether regarded 
 for itself or by comparison, the Siegfried and Brunnhilde duet 
 is a striking example of intense musical expression. As 
 regards the relative merits of Die Walkiire and Siegfried, 
 the general opinion is in favour of the first, on account of 
 more absolute beauty, springing from poetic suggestiveness 
 and strong human interest. All the same, however, will 
 Siegfried stand among Wagnerian dramas as a stupendous 
 work. So it was regarded last night, and after each act 
 shouts of applause filled the theatre. 
 
 The cast of Siegfried was as follows : Siegfried, Georg 
 Unger ; Mime, Carl Schlosser ; Der Wanderer, Franz Betz ; 
 Alberich, Carl Hill ; Fafner, Franz von Beichenberg ; Erda, 
 Luise Jade ; Brunnhilde, Amalie Materna. Of these artists 
 
LETTERS FEOM BAYREUTH. 65 
 
 only the representative of the title-character appeared for 
 the first time, the others having had work to do in Das 
 Rheingold or Die Walkiire. Herr Unger, who is a 
 Bayreuth man, was specially chosen by Wagner to re- 
 present his favourite hero, and justifies the choice alike on 
 account of his personal appearance, dramatic ability, and 
 powerful voice. Tall and stately, conveying an impression 
 of great physical strength, and able to identify himself 
 thoroughly with the character, he made as good a Siegfried 
 as we had any right to expect. Unfortunately, like not a 
 few of his colleagues, Herr Unger cannot sing, and when a 
 true vocal phrase falls to his lot he simply abuses it. But 
 he can declaim with immense vigour, which is a qualification 
 for Wagner's music-drama not to be despised. Among 
 others who distinguished themselves in Siegfried were Herr 
 Schlosser, an extraordinarily perfect Mime, and Frau 
 Materna, who, in the scene of Briinnhilde's waking, 
 sustained her part like the accomplished artist she is. This 
 lady's vocal skill would appear to better advantage in 
 opera, but the quality and power of her tones, as well as 
 the impressiveness of her acting, could have had no 
 finer demonstration. For the rest, it will be enough to 
 say that all worked together with a smoothness and 
 attention to detail which threw fresh light upon the possi- 
 bilities of the lyric stage. Every artist knew what to do 
 and did it, not only as though individuality had been sunk 
 
66 " DEE RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 in the character, but as though success depended upon each 
 one alone. I have so often and so warmly praised the 
 orchestra that nothing new remains for me to say. But 
 the theme is one of which I could never tire, so much does 
 every fresh hearing impress upon me a sense of perfection. 
 There were times during the performance of Siegfried when 
 the orchestra was left alone to carry on the idea of the 
 drama, and on every such occasion — for which, by-the-way, 
 Wagner seems to have reserved some of his happiest 
 thoughts — the musical impression deepened to profundity. 
 Such purity of tone, perfect oneness of expression, and 
 everchanging glory of colour amounted to a revelation of 
 before unimagined artistic beauty. The scenic effects and 
 stage management generally were again all that could be 
 desired, especially fine being the break of day in the forest, 
 and the representation of the fire through which Siegfried 
 passes to Briinnhilde. Some doubt was felt about the 
 dragon and the bird, such stage creatures being always 
 liable to make themselves ridiculous ; but no mishap 
 chanced, and Mr. Dykwynkyn may congratulate himself on 
 an important contribution to the success of Der Ring des 
 Nibelungen. 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 67 
 
 Batreuth, Aug. 18. 
 I come now to the Gotterdcimmerung, or " Dusk of 
 the Gods," which, like its immediate predecessor, had 
 never before been heard in public. About the curiosity 
 excited, the eager gathering at the theatre, and the zest 
 with which everybody settled down when the trumpets 
 heralded the rising of the curtain, it is unnecessary again 
 to speak. Enough that the first notes broke in upon an 
 absolute silence, which, as far as the audience were 
 concerned, reigned during the hour and three-quarters 
 occupied by the prologue and first act. Continuing the 
 course of the " argument," let me remind the reader that 
 at the close of Siegfried the ring and tarn-helm remained 
 with the hero, who, however, in the simpleness of his 
 "pure humanity," knew nothing definite about their 
 power. Since then he has learned much wisdom from 
 the lips of Brunnhilde, with whom he dwells, and from 
 whom he is about to part in quest of adventure. The 
 curtain rises on Briinnhilde's rock while it is yet night, and 
 reveals the three Norns, or Fates, representatives of the 
 Past, Present, and Future, discoursing upon the events 
 which, by bringing about the downfall of the gods, will 
 change the order of the world. From them we learn that 
 Wotan has surrounded Walhalla with the- wood of the 
 world-ash out of which he cut the shaft of his now broken 
 
68 
 
 spear, and that he and all his heroes solemnly await their 
 doom. On the disappearance of the Fates, day breaks 
 gloriously, and Siegfried enters, accompanied by Briinn- 
 hilde, who has given him her horse Grane and clothed him 
 with her own discarded armour. In return Siegfried be- 
 stows upon her the fatal ring, and, after an impassioned 
 farewell, rides away, Briinnhilde watching till the sound 
 of his horn fades in distance. With this the prologue 
 ends. The curtain again rising, we are transported to the 
 Hall of King Gunther, on the Bhine, and see the King, his 
 sister Gutrune, and half-brother Hagen sitting at a table 
 commanding a view of the beautiful river. The first two 
 have no connection with any previous event or character in 
 the drama, but it is otherwise with Hagen. Like Wotan, 
 Alberi'ch had resolved to train up a hero of his own race 
 who should fight for the ring ; and Hagen is the son upon 
 whom his hopes rest. We now see this fresh schemer for 
 the accursed bauble begin his work by stimulating in 
 Gunther a passion for Briinnhilde, and vaunting to 
 Gutrune the glorious person and achievements of 
 Siegfried. • His plan contemplates the love of Siegfried 
 for Gutrune, which is only to be gratified by his 
 winning Briinnhilde for Gunther. All are ignorant of 
 Siegfried's relations with Briinnhilde: but lest his affections 
 should be engaged Hagen will brew him a drink certain 
 to cause forgetfulness of her who holds his heart. The 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 69 
 
 scheme is approved; and Siegfried, who opportunely 
 appears, receives a warm invitation to remain as a guest. 
 He does so, takes the welcome-cup — Hagen's charmed 
 draught — from Gutrune's hands, and at once, forgetting 
 Brunnhilde, falls in love with her. Pursuing his advantage, 
 Gunther declares his passion for Brunnhilde, and receives 
 from Siegfried a prompt offer of his services — "Me frights 
 not her fire ; I'll woo for thee the maid." In return Gunther 
 promises that Gutrune shall be his wife, and the two 
 swear blood-brotherhood to clench the bargain, the scene 
 closing as they set out for Brunnhilde's abode, advised by 
 Hagen of the power of the tarn-helm hanging from 
 Siegfried's belt. The rock is now once more shown, just 
 as comes storming through the sky Waltraute, one of the 
 Walkyries. Her mission to Brunnhilde is a serious one, 
 and grand and gloomy is the picture she draws of 
 Wotan sitting silent in his doomed castle. 
 
 " So sits he, 
 and breathes not a sound, 
 on stately stool 
 uncheered and still, 
 the splintered weapon 
 fixed in his span." 
 
 Only once he had spoken, and then, in a dream, whispered, — 
 
 " The day the River's Daughters 
 find from her finger the ring, 
 
 will the curse's weight 
 be cast from god and the world." 
 
 Hearing this, Waltraute slipped " through the ranges of 
 
70 " DEB, RING DES NIBELTJNGEN." 
 
 wordless waraien," mounted her horse, and rode to Briinn- 
 hilde. We now hear her entreat that the ring might be 
 surrendered to the Ehine Daughters. But Briinnhilde, 
 with the sublime selfishness of love, sees in it only 
 Siegfried's gift, and exclaims, — 
 
 " More than Walhall's welfare, 
 more than the good of the gods, 
 the ring I guard." 
 
 In despair, Waltraute rides away, the encircling fire, as 
 she does so, blazing up, and Siegfried's horn sounding a 
 merry note in the distance. Briinnhilde runs to greet her 
 hero, and sees him indeed, but in the form of Gunther, a 
 change which the tarn-helm had made possible. What 
 follows may be imagined. In the utmost terror and 
 distress, Briinnhilde reproaches the absent Wotan for 
 bringing her to such "shame and darkness." But her 
 suffering has no effect upon Siegfried, who exclaims, — 
 
 " The night is near ; 
 and rest in thy room 
 halves by his right thy husband." 
 
 Solemnly, then, Briinnhilde points to the pledge of 
 Siegfried's love, only to have it taken away forcefully 
 by the pretended Gunther. With the loss of the ring 
 Briinnhilde's resolution seems to depart, and, at the 
 bidding of the intruder, she leads the way to her resting- 
 place. Siegfried follows, but as he does so draws his 
 sword, with the words, — 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 71 
 
 " Now, Nothung, -witness well 
 that faithfully I wooed ; 
 lest I wane in truth to my brother, 
 bar me away from bis bride." 
 
 This closes the first act, When next the curtain rises 
 we are again at Gunther's Hall. It is night, and 
 Hagen watches, armed with shield and spear. But 
 he is not alone. His father Alberich has come up 
 from the Nibelung's gloomy abode to stimulate his 
 zeal for the ring, and now receives an assurance that 
 all shall be attempted for its recovery. Day breaks, and 
 the mists clear away, showing the Ehine in its beauty. 
 At this point Siegfried enters in his own proper person, 
 having escorted Briinnhilde to the spot where Gunther 
 awaited her, and then, by the tarn-helm's power, trans- 
 ferred himself hither. Informed that the King approaches 
 with the bride whom another has won, Hagen summons 
 the warriors of Gunther, who answer the call, and, at his 
 bidding, prepare a suitable reception. The strangely mated 
 pair now arrive, greeted by a chorus of welcome; the 
 King triumphant, Briinnhilde cast down, despairing, and 
 speechless. But when the still unconscious Siegfried 
 advances to meet her, leading Gutrune, she finds both 
 voice and vigour; amazement changing to fiercest anger 
 as she sees upon Siegfried's finger the deadly ring he, in 
 changing places after the winning of Briinnhilde, had 
 omitted to bestow upon Gunther. The whole trick then 
 
72 " DER RING DBS NIBELTJNGEN." 
 
 stands revealed, and love turns to desire for vengeance. 
 "Gods of my heaven," exclaims Brunnhilde, "find me a 
 vengeance unvaunted before ! Bouse me to rage never 
 wreaked on a wrong." The means of retribution are at 
 once obvious, and Brunnhilde asserts in the hearing of all 
 that which is understood as a declaration of Siegfried's 
 faithlessness to his trust for Gunther. Boldly the hero 
 avows his innocence, exclaiming, — 
 
 " Nothmig, my shameless sword, 
 sheltered the truth I swore." 
 
 Unhesitatingly, moreover, he makes oath to a like effect 
 upon Hagen's spear : — 
 
 " Where a death can stab me, 
 strike me dead ; 
 wrought I what rights her blame, 
 failed I my brother in faith ! " 
 
 In turn, Brunnhilde makes oath to the contrary, and 
 the situation grows critical till Siegfried closes it by 
 saying that "women's grudge soon is outgrown," and 
 bidding all prepare the feast. The stage is now left to 
 Gunther, who flings himself down in an agony of shame, 
 Brunnhilde, who stands gloomily apart, and Hagen, who, 
 having work to do, sets about it by offering himself as a 
 champion to redress the injured woman's wrong. So does 
 he excite the feelings of both that Brunnhilde informs 
 Hagen where Siegfried is vulnerable to the point of his 
 spear, and Gunther, despite the vow of blood-brotherhood, 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 73 
 
 agrees to a plan for his death. The act ends as the bridal 
 procession of Siegfried and Gutrune crosses the stage. 
 When the curtain rises for the last time, we look on a 
 picturesque valley opening to the shore of the Ehine, and 
 see the three river-nymphs gambolling in the water as 
 they await the hero who possesses their lost treasure. 
 Siegfried, having wandered from his companions in pur- 
 suit of a bear, appears, and is entreated by the Ehine 
 Daughters to give up the ring, which, however, he 
 refuses to do. With mocking words the nymphs vanish, 
 to be called back by Siegfried, who, annoyed at their 
 taunts, is willing to part with the bauble. But they 
 will not now accept it, saying, — 
 
 " Withhold it, hero, 
 and ward it well, 
 until thou hast read the hurt 
 thon harbonrest in the ring." 
 
 " Now, sing what you foresee," answers Siegfried. 
 In response the Ehine Daughters tell him about the 
 curse of which he himself will that day be a victim. 
 But to no avail. Siegfried laughs at fear, declaring 
 that were the ring worth nothing he would not buy 
 safety with it. Upon this the maidens leave him, and 
 Siegfried reflects that women on land and women in water 
 are very much alike: "whom flattery fails to thaw, with 
 threats they think to fright him." The hunting party, 
 including Gunther and Hagen, now enter the glen, and as 
 
74 " DEB BING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 they refresh themselves, Siegfried lightly speaks of the 
 nymphs and their prophecy, rallies the King on his Bettled 
 sadness, and offers to tell a story of his youth. All 
 gather round as Siegfried narrates the adventure with the 
 dragon up to the point at which the bird led him on to 
 Briinnhilde. Here he would have stopped for lack of 
 memory had not the crafty Hagen given him another 
 drink which released the spell of the first. Thus enabled 
 to go on, he speaks of the fire-guarded maiden and how 
 he won her; to the horror and shame of the listening 
 King. Now has come the time for vengeance. Diverting 
 Siegfried's attention, Hagen spears him, and the hero 
 dies with words of love for Briinnhilde upon his lips. 
 Sadly the warriors bear his body homewards, where, by 
 a change of scene, we arrive as Hagen enters calling 
 for torches to welcome "the quarry from the hunt." 
 The mournful crowd approach, and Gutrune throws 
 herself on Siegfried's body, wildly accusing her brother 
 of his murder. But Gunther points to Hagen; nor 
 does the Nibelung's Bon shrink from avowing alike his 
 crime and purpose : — 
 
 " Meetly I've wrought and made 
 boundless my right of booty ; 
 which so I seize in this ring." 
 
 Gunther intervenes, and after a short struggle is killed. 
 "Now," again exclaims Hagen, "the ring!" He grasps 
 
LETTEKS FEOM BAYREUTH. 75 
 
 at the treasure, but all fall back in horror as the hand 
 of the corpse closes and raises itself threateningly. At 
 that moment Brunnhilde appears, advances to the body, 
 and sadly looks down upon it. After a long silence she 
 bids the men prepare a funeral pile on the river's bank, 
 calls for her horse Grane, and takes the ring from the 
 dead man's finger. She has made a high resolve. As a 
 supreme act of love she will sacrifice herself in the flames 
 which consume the body of Siegfried — names which will 
 redeem the world from the curse of the ring by melting it 
 and restoring to the river its gold. Making a passionate 
 address to her horse, she plunges with him into the fire, 
 the river at that moment rising and advancing, bearing the 
 Ehine Daughters aloft on its waves. "Back from the 
 ring," exclaims Hagen, darting into the flood, only to be 
 dragged beneath its waters by two of the nymphs, while 
 the third holds up exultingly the recovered treasure. As 
 the curtain slowly falls we see afar in the northern sky 
 the flames of the burning Walhalla, and watch the gods 
 silently encounter their doom. The old order has passed 
 away ; the warlike deities are no more, and love rules the 
 world. 
 
 It must be obvious that in this closing part of the great 
 drama we are confronted by circumstances varying in most 
 important respects from those before met with. The story 
 of the Gotterdammerwig is one which Verdi might have set 
 
76 " DEE RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 to music, so rapidly do the situations follow each other, 
 so intense is their dramatic interest, and so great are the 
 opportunities for the effects which modern opera loves. By 
 comparison, the earlier sections of Der Ring des Nibelvmgen 
 are merely dialogues with an orchestral accompaniment ; 
 whereas here we have a libretto closely approaching 
 the generally accepted model. This being so, the result 
 of its combination with Wagner's system — above all in 
 the matter of the concerted music — is curious to note. 
 I cannot see how Wagner here escapes the charge of in- 
 consistency. Had he, in his striving after realism, asserted 
 that people do not speak the same words at the same 
 time, and acted up to the fact by rigidly excluding con- 
 certed vocal pieces, his position would have been logical. 
 But he admits such things. He does so in Das Bhemgold, 
 again in Die Walkiire, and again in the Gotterdammerung, 
 where, for example, Gunther's men answer Hagen's 
 summons in chorus. Yet, again and again, when — the 
 theory of a chorus being admitted — concerted music is 
 called for, nothing of the kind appears. If the warriors may 
 acclaim Gunther and Brunnhilde, why are they silent when 
 Hagen kills Siegfried ? Why no exclamations as the hero's 
 body is received by the King's household ? Above all, why 
 is the stage filled with a crowd of dummies during the 
 magnificent and moving last scene ? The absence of a 
 chorus here is the very wantonness of whim. It excites an 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 77 
 
 annoying sense of incompleteness, and makes us cry even 
 beneath the roof of Wagner's theatre, "Oh for a Verdi ! " 
 But had the master employed ever so freely the splendid 
 resources that lay ready to his hand it is doubtful whether 
 the dramatic power of Gotterdtvmmerung would not have 
 put the music in a secondary place. Whatever may be 
 said of other sections of the work, here the story and the 
 poetry well-nigh absorb attention. To this rule, however, 
 there are exceptions. The conference of the Norns in the 
 prologue would be simply unendurable but for the cease- 
 less stream of music from the orchestra; and the same 
 may be said of a few other passages. But as a whole the 
 drama fascinates us, and that most where most appears to 
 be wanting in its musical treatment. This is fortunate, 
 because a good deal is wanting — so much that I have no 
 hesitation in giving the Gbtterdammerwng the third place 
 in regard to music, ranking it after Die Walkiire and 
 Siegfried, Das Rheingold coming last of all. The result 
 may be in a measure due to the fact that it presents little 
 of novelty. According to a very careful analysis by Herr 
 von Wolzogen there are in Der Ring des Nibelungen ninety 
 distinct motivi, of which thirty -five belong to Das Rheingold, 
 twenty-two to Die Walkiire, twenty to Siegfried, and only 
 thirteen to Gotterdammerung, which thus has, with small 
 relief, to bear the burden of constantly repeating themes 
 already heard over and over again. But apart from this 
 
78 " DEE RING DES NIBELUNGEN." 
 
 it may be said, speaking very generally, that the music 
 presents fewer than usual of those passages which are re- 
 membered chiefly for their own sake. The listeners to the 
 Gotterdammerung go away impressed, but if asked to recall 
 what they have heard they find that memory is busy only 
 with the drama, and that of the music it retains an im- 
 pression definite only with regard to features which pro- 
 duced weariness. As a music-drama therefore — I speak, 
 of course, with the reserve due to the limited acquaintance 
 of a single hearing — the Gotterdammerung disappoints, the 
 more keenly because of the magnificent opportunities sup- 
 plied by its situations for really sublime musical effect. 
 
 I can touch but lightly on the performance. Frau 
 Materna, as Briinnhilde, exerted herself unsparingly, and 
 won a triumph of the highest rank. In the laBt act she 
 met stern requirements in a manner possible only to a 
 great artist. Wagner owes her much, for another Briinn- 
 hilde, her equal, would be hard to find. Herr Unger was 
 again Siegfried, and Herr Hill, Alberich ; the characters 
 introduced for the first time being thus distributed: 
 Gunther, Eugen Gura; Gutrune, Mathilde Weckerlin; 
 Hagen, Gustav Siehr. Of the chorus I cannot speak too 
 highly, while of the orchestra, the matchless orchestra, 
 it is impossible to say more than that it was worthy of 
 itself. From beginning to end the stage - effects were 
 splendid. Few will forget the daybreak after the Norns 
 
LBTTEEB FROM BAYREUTH. 79 
 
 had disappeared, or that which revealed the Khine. 
 Fewer still can cease to recall the effect of Siegfried's 
 funeral pyre as the flames gained hold on Gunther's 
 palace and the beams came crashing down, while the 
 whole sky was made red by the burning Walhalla, 
 Nothing more terribly real was ever put upon the stage, 
 and with it appropriately closed a series of representa- 
 tions unequalled for scenic truth and grandeur. 
 
CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 Sept. 21. 
 Weeks have passed since the final performance of Dei- 
 Ring des Nihelungen ; the artists and amateurs whom the 
 genius and will of a single man summoned to Bayreuth 
 from all parts of the world have gone home ; the doors of 
 the Festival Theatre are shut and the keys put away; 
 distance of time has done much to dissipate the glamour of 
 notable doings, and now, far better than at any earlier 
 moment, is it possible to arrive at just conclusions re- 
 specting Eichard Wagner's "new art." But before en- 
 tering upon this task, let me repudiate any sympathy with 
 those — must I style them critics? — who seem to have 
 visited Bayreuth for no higher purpose than sneer and 
 sarcasm. One might have thought that such, in Wagner's 
 case, antiquated and ineffective weapons would not again 
 be forthcoming, if only as the result of their obvious 
 worthlessness. Wagner has been the butt "of ridicule for 
 more than twenty years, and the answer to all is — 
 Bayreuth. Yet many of his opponents continue to fight on 
 in the old fashion. No wonder that " the Master " is 
 
LETTERS FBOM BAYEBUTH. 81 
 
 serenely disdainful. No wonder, either, that people who 
 care little about the questions at issue begin to be impa- 
 tient, and to ask whether the cheap argument of a sneer, 
 and the loose, if lively, logic of a joke exhaust the arsenal 
 of his enemies. Depend upon it that neither Wagner 
 himself nor Wagnerian theories are to be put down by such 
 means. - The man is probably unconquerable anyhow ; and 
 his theories, so gravely and powerfully advanced, so unrer 
 servedly accepted by thousands whose judgment commands 
 respect, and so important that their formal illustration 
 occupies the mind of the civilised world, are at least 
 entitled to serious treatment. This I now propose to give 
 them, animated less by a desire to find matter for rejection 
 than to discover that which may be accepted as an addi- 
 tion to the resources of art,. 
 
 The subject of Wagner's new music-drama presents 
 itself in two grand divisions — first, the poem; secondly, 
 the music — and so intimate is the connection between these 
 that the study of one must be carried on in view of and 
 largely in the light of the other. That they are separable 
 is true; but a discussion of the poem of Der Ring des 
 Nibekmgen as a poem, or of the music without reference 
 to its application, would have small practical value. It is 
 not my business, therefore, to estimate Wagner as a poet 
 merely, or as a composer merely, but as the creator of a 
 form of art in which the outcome of both Capacities appears 
 
 G 
 
82 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 under novel conditions. This does not prevent reference 
 to certain facts lying, so to speak, outside of argument. 
 And first, as regards the sources whence Wagner drew 
 the materials for his great drama, it may be well to state 
 that he has largely used the liberty which constitutes one 
 of the advantages of the myth. In dealing with purely 
 traditional, as distinct from historic themes, the dramatist" 
 is absolutely unfettered, and in Der Ring des Nibehmgen 
 Wagner avails himself alike of Teutonic, Scandinavian, 
 and Icelandic sources for incident, character, and situation, 
 taking " here & little and there a little," as seemed good 
 to him. A German critic, who ought to have known better, 
 has assailed the poem on this very aceount, taunting 
 Wagner with putting forward as a representative national 
 art-work that which is but in small part made up of 
 German materials. But surely, having to deal with a 
 myth belonging in varied shapes to a group of peoples 
 sprung from the same stock, Wagner was justified in 
 acting as though all its forms were a common inheritance. 
 The German has, as a matter of family privilege, scarcely 
 less right to the legends of _ Scandinavia or Iceland than 
 the inhabitants of those countries themselves — to say 
 nothing of the fact that in this instance the chief scenes 
 of the story are laid on the banks of the Ehine. As 
 regards the particular subject chosen, it should be remem- 
 bered that the whole drama of Der Ring des Nibelimgen 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 83 
 
 grew up around the person of the hero Siegfried, by whom 
 the master was first attracted. To a mind so full of 
 romanticism, and so accustomed, as in Der Fliegende 
 Hollander, Tannhauser, and Lohengrin, to deal with 
 legendary material, the person, character, and achieve- 
 ments of Siegfried were irresistible. The Volsimga Saga, 
 as translated by Messrs. Magnusson and Morris, says of 
 this mighty man of old, — 
 
 " He was far above other men in courtesy and goodly manners, and 
 well-nigh in all things else ; and when as folk tell of all the mightiest 
 champions and the noblest chiefs, then ever is he named the foremost, 
 and his name goes wide about on all tongues north of the sea of the 
 Greek lands, and even so shall it be while the world endures. Now 
 the hair of this Sigurd (Siegfried) was golden-red of hue, fair of fashion, 
 and falling down in great locks ; thick and short was his beard, and of 
 no other colour ; high-nosed he was, broad and high-boned of face ; 
 so keen were his eyes that few durst gaze up under the brows of him ; 
 his shoulders were as broad to look on as the shoulders of two. . . . 
 Wise he was to know things yet undone ; and the voice of all fowls he 
 knew, wherefore few things fell on him unawares. Of many words 
 he was, and so fair of speech withal that, whensoever he made it bis 
 business to speak, he never left speaking before that to all men it 
 seemed full sure that no otherwise must the matter be than as he 
 said. . . . Never did he lose heart, and of nought was he adrad." 
 
 From such a hero as this it was not likely that Wagner 
 would turn away, or that, as the charm of the theme grew 
 upon him, he would resist the temptation to enlarge the 
 scope of his labours, taking in all that led up to or was in 
 any way essentially connected with the central figure. 
 With what success he performed his task, and in what 
 
84 
 
 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 consequent degree the poem bears out the excellence of 
 Wagner's theories, are matters of opinion, and belong to 
 the general subject for discussion. 
 
 About the admissibility of legend for dramatic purposes, 
 recognised as it has been from the earliest times by all 
 nations, there can arise no question. But few will agree 
 with Wagner that legend is the dramatist's only true 
 resource. In an elaborate argument — " Opera and 
 Drama " — he has attacked both the historical and 
 domestic romance as a groundwork for stage plays — 
 proving, to his own satisfaction at least, that the first, 
 with its endless ramifications and cumbersome accessories, 
 is unfit for the modern theatre, which insists upon a 
 realisation of scene, and will not be content, as in 
 Shakespeare's day, with its intimation only. He pictures 
 the modern poet as standing " inquiringly and confused " 
 before the realised historico-romantic play, and says, " The 
 Shakespearian drama had produced upon him, in a literary 
 point of view, the elevating impression of the most perfect 
 poetical unity, as long as it had merely appealed to his 
 imagination, which was capable of culling from it an 
 harmonious and well-defined picture. But the poet now 
 beheld that picture fade completely from before his eyes 
 in the fulfilment of the wish to see it realised to the senses." 
 This, according to Wagner, had a twofold result. It com- 
 pelled the poet,' as in the case of Goethe's Faust, to write 
 
LETTEBS FEOM BAYEETJTH. 85 
 
 " literary dramas for silent perusal," ignoring the stage 
 altogether, or it drove him back, for a practical repre- 
 sentation of his conceptions, upon the forms of antiquity, 
 as in Iphigenia in Aulis. But when adopting the second 
 course he was compelled, as Wagner carefully points out, 
 to choose the subject from the mythos, with which alone it 
 was possible to attain the desired end. It must be confessed 
 that the master's position here is hard to assail, because 
 his indictment against the historic romance as a ground- 
 work for drama finds powerful support in the illustrious 
 authors who using it have at the same time ignored 
 the stage, and in the conspicuous failures where actual 
 representation has been intended. Passing on to the 
 domestic romance, as we have it in Fidelio, or, as 
 connected with historical adjuncts and raised to its 
 highest pitch of importance, in Egmont, Wagner admits 
 one advantage viz. "the possibility of scenic repre- 
 sentation, because in no instance do necessities for the 
 mise-en-scene arise out of the scanty action which the 
 mise-en-scene is not fundamentally able to satisfy." But he 
 brings against it a charge which had better be stated in his 
 own words for the consideration of those who, predisposed 
 to accept his opinions because they are his, would give up 
 Fidelios and Egmonts for Tannhausers and Lohengrins. 
 Here is the charge in question : " The characteristic 
 element of the romance of domestic life consists in the 
 
86 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 fact that the action on which it is founded is perfectly 
 separated from the more comprehensive connection of 
 historical events and. relations, retains only the social 
 precipitate of these historical events as conditional 
 adjuncts — which, in reality, are only the reaction of 
 the said historical occurrences deadened so as to become 
 colourless — and developes itself more according to moods 
 imperatively enjoined by these adjuncts than according to 
 inward motives capable of perfect plastic utterance. This 
 action is just as limited and poor as the moods of mind 
 by which it is called forth are devoid of freedom and 
 independent inwardness." The ultimate reference of all 
 argument on matters affecting human consciousness is 
 to that consciousness itself, and those of us who have 
 not yet discovered that the romance of domestic life is 
 made up of the social precipitate of historic events, 
 deadened and colourless, or that both its actioij and 
 causative moods of mind are limited and poor, may rest 
 satisfied that we are not in error while the universal heart 
 finds here that to which it can respond, that which excites 
 the noblest emotions and aspirations. Eeferring to the 
 origin of myth, Wagner says, "Art is, according to its 
 purport, nothing more than the fulfilment of the wish 
 to recognise oneself again in the phenomena of the 
 outward world. The artist says to himself in the object 
 he has represented, 'Thus art thou, thus dost thou feel 
 
LETTEES FROM BAYBEUTH. 87 
 
 and think, and thus wouldst thou act if thou couldst act 
 according to the choice of thy wish.' " Precisely, and the 
 modern man sees in the drama of domestic romance that 
 which he is, or may be, with infinitely more clearness than 
 he can recognise himself in the heroes of mythic lore. 
 Wherefore to him the domestic drama more apparently 
 fulfils the purpose of art. 
 
 Passing on to Wagner's direct advocacy of the myth, and 
 premising that he cannot here be followed through the 
 arguments adduced, three propositions are met with. 
 First, the myth is a poem, " produced by a general: way 
 of looking at life ; " that is to say, it arises from the 
 impulse of the people to give an intelligible representation 
 of natural phenomena which otherwise perplexes and is 
 a cause of anxiety. Secondly, tragedy is " nothing more 
 than the artistic perfection of the myth." Thirdly, the 
 tragic,, poet "simply communicates the purport and 
 nature of the myth in the most convincing and in- 
 telligible manner." Few will care, perhaps, to dispute 
 these theses; the less because the main fact that the 
 myth presents valuable material for dramatic purposes 
 is beyond question. There are, however, myths and 
 myths ; some big with human interest even under 
 modern conditions, of life — with which alone can it be 
 supposed that " the people " are acquainted — others 
 located far off, surrounded by a cold and unsympathetic 
 
88 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 atmosphere. In the second class must indubitably be 
 placed those which are concerned less with man than 
 with supernatural creations. That this is not Wagner's 
 opinion, however, his Ring des Nibelvmgen proves, and 
 he would probably defend the position he has taken up 
 by a reference to hiB favourite models, the dramatists of 
 Greece. But the conditions under which the Greek masters 
 wrote were different from those obtaining now — so different 
 that it is barely possible for us to estimate their significance. 
 "Religion to a Greek," says a contemporary author, " con- 
 sisted in an intense love of all that is beautiful, and a firm 
 belief that every stream and tree and cloud was tenanted by 
 a god. All that for us is mere senseless imagery was for him 
 a reality. In the sound of a stream he really believed that 
 he heard the sighing or the laughter of a nymph — how should 
 the stream move and speak if it were not so possessed ? 
 The clouds gathered and the lightning flashed, not of them- 
 selves, or in obedience to laws of nature — -of those mysteri- 
 ous powers the Greek had never heard — but simply because 
 some person moved the clouds a;nd hurled the lightning ; 
 and this was Zeus or Jove." When, therefore, ^Eschylus 
 placed upon the Athenian stage his Prometheus Bound, or 
 the wonderful trilogy which unfolds the story of Orestes, 
 he kept strictly within the perception, consciousness, and 
 sympathy of his public. Zeus, Strength, Force, Vulcan, 
 Oceanus, Io, " the maid by gadfly driven," Apollo, and the 
 
LETTEES FROM BAYEEUTH. 89 
 
 Furies, were all real to the Athenians ; but what are they, 
 and such as they, to us ? Mere abstractions, incapable of 
 being more than intellectually perceived; shadows that 
 the mind's eye can discern, but which touch us nowhere. 
 Moreover, it is to be observed that even the Greek drama- 
 tists, obeying an instinct as well as consciously meeting 
 an artistic necessity, were careful to secure a strong human 
 interest. If they set forth the action of the gods, it was 
 action having man as its object, and not, as in Der Ring 
 des Nibelungen, the conservation of godlike power. Take 
 the trilogy already cited. No personage was ever more 
 real to an Athenian audience than Agamemnon, and, start- 
 ing from this point of close contact, the whole story, 
 through the vengeance of Orestes and his punishment, to 
 the installation of the Bumenides as guardians of Athens, 
 was a powerful appeal to the sympathy of those for whom 
 iEschylus wrote. It is vain, therefore, for Wagner to set 
 up a pretended parallelism between the Greek drama and 
 that which, taking Der Ring des Nibelungen as a sample, 
 he would establish in this nineteenth century after Christ. 
 The old pagan myth is as dead as the dodo in so far as 
 regards its power over the popular mind. Yet Wagner has 
 not only declined to recognise this fact, but acted as 
 though the very reverse were the case. Upon what, for 
 instance, does the drama of Der Ring des Nibelungen turn? 
 Upon a struggle for supremacy, represented by a talisman, 
 
90 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 between supernatural beings, in the course of which man 
 is introduced merely as an agent, Wotan (Odin) on the one 
 hand, and Alberich on the other, allying themselves with 
 humanity in order to produce each a champion whose 
 personal encounter brings the drama to its crisis. In the 
 whole work there are thirty-four characters, of whom only 
 seven are mortal, and of these seven only three — Gutrune, 
 Gunther, and Hunding — are pure mortals, the others — 
 Sieglinde, Siegmund, Siegfried, and Hagen — being the de- 
 scendants of Wotan or Alberich. Later on I shall have 
 occasion to show that this preponderance of the super- 
 natural element arose from no necessity of the subject, but 
 from Wagner's deliberate choice; for the present I desire 
 only to ask how it is possible that a work so constructed 
 can commend itself as the model drama of the future. We 
 barely realise Wotan, Alberich, Fafner, and the rest of the 
 contending agents at all ; and as to the issue, if, as Milton 
 said, the battles of the Saxon Heptarchy are of no more 
 interest now than so many skirmishes of kites and crows, 
 how much can we care who gains the fateful ring ? 
 
 The task of showing that the preponderance of the 
 supernatural in Der Ring des Nibehmgen is not a heavy 
 one, inasmuch as in the Icelandic " Story of the Volsungs 
 and Niblungs " the chief events of Wagner's drama are 
 found almost entirely separated from the gods and god- 
 desses of Walhalla. Odin (Wotan) appears now and then, 
 
LETTERB FROM BAYREUTH. 91 
 
 it is true, and it is impossible not to admire the superior 
 art of his introduction as compared with that shown in 
 Der Ring des Nibelungen. Wagner makes such large use 
 of this chief of the Northern deities, and places him in 
 such positions, that, quite apart from his terribly long- 
 winded utterances, we soon begin to regard him with 
 contempt, and resent his presence as that of a bore. On 
 the other hand, the legend shows him rapidly flitting 
 across the stage in mysterious guise, bent on purposes at 
 which the myth-maker never ventures to guess. Here is 
 the description of his appearing at the wedding of Signy 
 (Sieglinde) and King Siggeir (the Hunding of Die 
 Walkilre) : — 
 
 " The tale tells that great fires were made endlong the hall, and 
 the great tree aforesaid stood midmost thereof; withal folks say that, 
 when as men sat by the fires in the evening, a certain man came into 
 the hall, unknown of aspect to all men ; and suchlike array he had 
 that over Vii'tti was a spotted cloak, and he was barefoot, and had linen 
 breeches knit tight even unto the bone, and he had a sword in his 
 hand as he went up to the Branstock, and a slouched hat upon his 
 head; huge he was, and seeming ancient and one-eyed. So he drew 
 his sword, and smote it into the tree-trunk, so that it sank in up to 
 the hilt ; and all held back from greeting the man. Then he took up 
 the sword and said, ' Whoso draweth this sword from this stock shall 
 have the same as a gift from me, and shall find in good sooth that 
 never bare he better sword in hand than is this.' Therewith out went 
 the old man from the hall, and none knew who he was or whither he 
 went." 
 
 Ever when Odin enters into the story it is for such a 
 brief moment, attended by circumstances which invest him 
 
92 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 with awe and mystery. For the rest, nearly all there is of 
 the supernatural belongs to the tale told by Begin 
 (Wagner's Mime) to Sigurd with reference to the treasure 
 guarded by Fafner. Here the brother of the " Worm " is 
 represented to be able to take the shape of an otter, while 
 Andvari — the original Alberich — wears the form of a pike. 
 Apart from these things the story of the Volsungs belongs 
 to humanity, and is a record, marked by beautiful sim- 
 plicity and profound pathos, of human doings. Yet, as I 
 have said, the chief events of Der Ring des Nibehmgen are 
 found in it, from the gaining by Fafner of the accursed 
 ring to Brunnhilde's self-sacrifice after Siegfried's death. 
 Moreover, the Icelandic original preserves a decency which 
 Wagner, resolved that the " purely human " should be 
 indeed " free from all conventionality," has wilfully set at 
 nought. In the legend, as in the drama, the Volsung race 
 is perpetuated by incest, but with the important difference 
 that Signy (Sieglinde) presents herself to her brother dis- 
 guised as a " witchwife," and is not recognised. Wagner, 
 on the other hand, makes Siegmund utter the now famous 
 exclamation, — 
 
 " Bride and sister be thou to thy brother ; 
 so blossom the Walsung's blood." 
 
 Nor are these by any means the only points in which the 
 Icelandic legend contrasts favourably with, the drama. 
 Many instances of true naturalness and unaffected pathos 
 
LETTBBS FBOM BAYEEUTH. 93 
 
 are either perverted by Wagner, or altogether overlooked, 
 and a few of them may be cited with advantage. It will 
 be remembered that when Brunnhilde is brought home by 
 Gunther as his bride, she detects Siegfried's fraud by 
 seeing on his finger the ring which he had wrested from 
 her after riding through the fire in Gunther's form. How 
 from that moment she becomes a fury bent upon vengeance 
 no reader of Gotterdammerung needs to be told. The blunt 
 directness of all this is the exact opposite to the poetic 
 beauty of the Icelandic version. There we find the dis- 
 covery arise from some hasty word uttered by Gutrune 
 as she and Brunnhilde assert the superior merits of their 
 respective husbands. " Little it beseems thee of all 
 folk," exclaims Siegfried's wife to her sister-in-law, "to 
 mock him who was thy first beloved. And Fafner he 
 slew, yea, and he rode thy. flaming fire, whereas thou 
 didst deem that he was Gunnar (Gunther) the King; 
 and by thy side he lay, and took from thine hand the 
 ring, Andvari's loom; here mayst thou well behold it." 
 The chronicle continues with touching simplicity : " Then 
 Brunnhilde saw the ring, and knew it, and waxed as wan 
 as a dead woman, and she went home and spake no word 
 the evening long." Thenceforth to the end Brunnhilde is 
 majestic in her anger and grief, bearing no semblance 
 to the ranting madwoman of Wagner's play. One and 
 another go to cheer her, but she is either silent or speaks 
 
94 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 words like these to her husband : " Never again seest thou 
 me glad in thine hall, never drinking, never at the chess- 
 play, never speaking the words of kindness, never over- 
 laying the fair cloths with gold, never giving thee good 
 counsel. Ah ! my sorrow of heart, that I might not get 
 Siegfried to me ! " Siegfried himseK addresses her : 
 "Awake, Briinnhilde ! The sun shineth now over all the 
 house, and thou hast slept enough ; cast off grief from thee 
 and take up gladness." But the answer is : " This is the 
 sorest sorrow to me, that the bitter sword is not reddened 
 in thy blood." Whereto Siegfried replies, in the prophetic 
 spirit of those marked for death, and with most affecting 
 resignation, "Have no fear thereof! No long while to 
 wait ere the bitter sword stand deep in my heart ; and no 
 worse needest thou to pray for thyself, for thou wilt not 
 live when I am dead. The days of our two lives shall be 
 few enough from henceforth." How Briinnhilde will not 
 be reconciled to her husband till he has avenged her on 
 Siegfried, how the hero is stabbed in his bed by Gunther's 
 young brother, who had sworn no oath of friendship, and 
 Briinnhilde — the craving for vengeance satisfied, and love 
 and sorrow triumphant — commits suicide, are set forth 
 in a manner equally touching and natural, and not, as 
 in the drama, sketched with a kind of panoramic rough- 
 ness as part of a series of events chiefly affecting gods, 
 dwarfs, and giants. It may be asked why Wagner was not 
 
LETTEES FROM BAYREUTH. 95 
 
 satisfied with the human interest of these pathetic old 
 chronicles ? why he imposed upon them such a compli- 
 cated supernatural apparatus, and made their characters 
 and incidents help to grind out results with which, as a 
 matter of necessity, they had nothing whatever to do? 
 The true answer probably is that he sought to use the 
 gods of Walhalla as the Greek dramatists employed the 
 deities of Olympus, and thus to secure, if haply he might, 
 the dignity, impressiveness, and " removedness " which 
 distinguish the tragedies of antiquity. A test of his success 
 may be applied in the form of two questions : first, have 
 the incidents in Der Ring des Nibehmgeri the necessary 
 breadth and importance? Secondly, has the drama a 
 sufficiently high and obvious moral purport? The answers 
 to these queries will decide whether Wagner's play is a 
 childish fable or, in the highest sense, a work of art. 
 
 As regards the first point some standard of comparison 
 is necessary, and I will take as such that other trilogy 
 which 2,400 years ago was the talk of the civilised world, 
 which also shows the supernatural arrayed against the 
 supernatural, working through man as its agent, and 
 which Wagner unquestionably had in mind when shaping 
 his ponderous drama. Here we have in every scene the 
 height of impressiveness, secured by events of commanding 
 import set forth with perfect simplicity. In the Agamemnon, 
 the return of the conqueror of Troy, his reception by 
 
96 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 Clytemnestra, and presentation to her of Cassandra ; the 
 picture of the inspired prophetess as she sits alone in her 
 chariot proclaiming the terrible deeds at hand, or calmly 
 enters the palace to her death; the horror-inspiring cry 
 of the murdered King, and the spectacle presented as the 
 scene opens, revealing Clytemnestra, axe in hand, standing 
 by her husband's corpse ready to justify the deed — all 
 these things belong to the highest order of tragedy. 
 Every action is weighty, every word to the purpose, 
 every motive sufficient. Passing on to the Cosphori,, we 
 have the solemn meeting of Orestes and Electra at their 
 father's tomb ; the resolution to carry out Apollo's mandate 
 of vengeance ; the appearance of the disguised Orestes in 
 the palace ; the slaying of Clytemnestra and her paramour; 
 the tableau of retribution when, as before, the scene opens 
 showing the avenger standing, sword in hand, over his 
 mother's body; and the beginning of his punishment as, 
 pursued by the Furies, he rushes out, heedless whither. 
 Following the stately march of the drama to its closing 
 section, the Eumenides, we come upon the wonderful scene 
 at the Delphian temple, the arousing of the sleeping Furies 
 by the ghost of Clytemnestra, the trial and acquittal of Orestes 
 by the Areopagus, and, lastly, the installation of the Furies, 
 nowbecome ' ' kind ones, ' ' as protectors of Athens. All through 
 this magnificent production of Greek art we are struck not 
 by the beauty of its ideas and language alone, but also by 
 
LETTEES FROM BAYEEUTH. 97 
 
 its simple, massive, and imposing structure. Both the 
 characters and scenes are few, but nothing is trivial, nor 
 is there anywhere a descent from the loftiest height of 
 grandeur, or the smallest abatement of overwhelming 
 interest. Turning to Der Ring des Nibelungen, what a 
 contrast is afforded ! It is the vulgar bustle and glare of 
 a pantomime "opening" compared with the classic beauty 
 of the fairy scenes in A Midsummer Night's Dream. The 
 stage swarms with gods, monsters, and human beings all 
 playing at more or less undignified cross-purposes. Wotan, 
 the god of gods, makes a bargain with giants, and trusts 
 to the wiles of Loge ' for relief from its conditions. He 
 plunders Alberich of the treasure, pays a debt with what is 
 not his own, and, wanting to recover part of it, compromises 
 with his conscience by raising up a hero who will do the 
 deed for him. " Like master, like man," and I need not 
 stop to point out how many of the scenes in which lesser 
 personages figure are marked either by triviality or worse. 
 That there are incidents and situations of poetic beauty, 
 and even of grandeur, in the play cannot be denied, but 
 they are few and far between as compared with those 
 which excite ridicule or contempt. Some may urge that 
 the drama faithfully reflects the mingled childishness 
 and terrible beauty of Northern mythology ; but I fail to 
 discover any justification in the fact, especially as all of 
 human interest and poetic attraction found in Der Ring 
 
98 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 des Nibehmgen exists in the primitive legends well-nigh 
 separate from Wagner's army of prosy gods and chattering 
 imps. Brought to the first test, therefore, the drama 
 fails. Let me now proceed to the second. 
 
 If Wagner aims to provide his countrymen with a 
 national form of art, he cannot complain when his 
 achievements are measured by the highest standard — when, 
 for example, we demand of him the obvious and lofty 
 moral significance apart from which a national drama, 
 considered as something beyond mere amusement, is like 
 salt that has lost its savour. The theatres of the Greeks 
 were temples of religion, their performances acts of the 
 utmost solemnity, their dramas lesBons in the philosophy 
 of life or practical exemplifications of the ways of the gods 
 to man. Their poets spake in strophe and antistrophe as 
 men who discoursed of great and serious things, and no 
 Greek playgoer came from under the spell of Sophocles or 
 Euripides or iEschylus without matter for grave considera- 
 tion. Thus must it be ever with a truly national drama 
 which exists for higher purposes than those served by a 
 pantomime or an opera-bouffe. But what is the lofty 
 moral purport of Der Bing des Nibelungen to us who live in 
 the nineteenth century ? What does it teach us ? What 
 matter does it give us for profitable thought ? Scenes of 
 murder, incest, theft, deceit, and vulgar trickery abound 
 in it. Why ? The presentation of crime on the stage is 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYRETJTH. 99 
 
 only justified by strong reasons ; what are the reasons in 
 Wagner's case ? Are they summed up in a desire to show 
 that the rule of love is stronger than that of force, or that 
 the pursuit of power leads through devious and dirty ways ? 
 If so the lesson is almost lost in the complexity of the 
 fable. Surely it was not needful to take up four evenings, 
 and parade thirty-four gods, giants, imps, and mortals, for 
 such an elementary purpose. We lose the moral in the 
 machinery which works it out, and when it is considered 
 that almost the entire dramatis persona are to us abstrac- 
 tions, while the conditions under which they exist are 
 beyond our realisation, the fact may even be that we 
 remain insensible to the presence of any moral at all. The 
 conclusion is unavoidable that Wagner's drama lacks the 
 most essential qualities of its order. It neither impresses 
 us by the breadth and grandeur of its scenes, nor conveys 
 eternal truths to our minds with the directness and 
 simplicity of which the stage is capable in a degree 
 unknown elsewhere. 
 
 Oct. 7. 
 Having discussed the poem of Der Ring des Nibelumgen as 
 regards the character of its subject, I have now to look at 
 it as a drama intended for association with music. In 
 doing this it is no part of my purpose to follow Wagnej 
 through his elaborate and involved dissertations upon the 
 
100 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 relative position and privileges of allied poetry and music. 
 Amateurs who take any sort of interest in the question are 
 more or less familiar with his line of argument; while 
 those who know nothing about it may have reason to 
 believe, before I conclude, that from a practical point of 
 view their ignorance is no serious matter. It will suffice 
 for the purpose of this criticism if I examine Wagner's 
 drama to see how it carries out his cardinal doctrine that 
 poetry must yield nothing to music, and, apart from a 
 necessary "yearning" for musical expression, is inde- 
 pendent of it. A glance at Der Ring des Nibelungen 
 shows that the master has not shrunk from giving a 
 practical illustration of this theory in its fullest and most 
 rigid sense. Nobody expected that he would. Wagner 
 ever has the courage of his opinions, and, what is more, 
 is always ready not only to avow but to act up to them. 
 Here, nevertheless, it is easy to imagine that Wagner the 
 poet must have been strongly opposed by Wagner the 
 musician, since the first so disregarded the second as to 
 lay upon him a task obviously more than even his gigantic 
 strength and indomitable resolution could achieve. Under 
 ordinary circumstances the poet arranges his drama with 
 at least provision for the orderly and effective sequence of 
 recitative, solo, concerted piece, and orchestral interlude. 
 Till Wagner proclaimed his latest theories this conces- 
 sion from the one art to the other was looked upon as a 
 
LETTEBS FROM BAYEEUTH. 101 
 
 matter of course, involving no loss of dignity to the conceder, 
 •who simply met one of the requirements of an honourable 
 alliance. Doubtless in many cases the poet has yielded to 
 the musician far more than he ought ; but the fact remains 
 that the most illustrious examples of musico-dramatic art 
 are formed upon the principle, unquestioned by their 
 authors, that he must grant at least as much as I have 
 stated. Leaving out of present consideration the yearning 
 after musical expression which he admits that "lines for 
 music " should have, it may be said that Wagner grants 
 nothing. The poet of music-drama is, with him, abso- 
 lutely a free and independent worker, responsible only to 
 the rules of his own art, and even as regards them, if we 
 may judge by Der Ring des Nibelungen, revelling in the 
 full liberty of the epic, rather than restrained by dramatic 
 exigencies. Here the question arises, Is the poet's absolute 
 disregard of the musician an essential demand of perfected 
 music-drama ? If so there is no more, to be said, because 
 the most rabid opponent of Wagner must acknowledge that 
 the thing illustrated is superior to its illustration, just 
 as a thing shadowed is superior to its shadow. It follows 
 that a music-drama cannot forego any dramatic essential 
 for music's sake without becoming, like so many operatic 
 libretti, an object of just ridicule. But, while frankly 
 admitting this, it may be contended that there is a middle 
 course between such an offence against obvious law and 
 
102 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 the extreme path chosen by Wagner when, as a poet, he 
 resolved upon yielding nothing to the claims of the sister 
 art. That middle course, it appears to me, Wagner him- 
 self has marked out in Der Fliegende Hollander, which I 
 cite by preference because so many English amateurs 
 have lately enjoyed an opportunity of making its acquaint- 
 ance. The poem of Der Fliegende Hollander is as full and 
 perfect a drama as need be wished. Its story is simple 
 and readily comprehended, its scenes are each animated 
 by a well-marked purpose, and its dialogue has all neces- 
 sary completeness. In point of fact Wagner's taste and 
 skill as a dramatic author shine nowhere with a steadier 
 light than in his treatment of the grim sea-legend. Yet 
 the excellence of Der Fliegende Hollander as a play appears 
 in conjunction with due provision for the essential require- 
 ments of music. It allows of song, duet, trio, and chorus 
 almost as readily as the absurd concoctions of men who 
 have written with an eye to music alone ; and thus, while 
 the mind is gratified by the presentation of a complete 
 drama on the one hand, on the other it derives pleasure 
 from music based upon true and acknowledged artistic 
 principles. These are facts not to be disputed as such, 
 and not to be obscured by the most intricate network of 
 Wagnerian phrases. It follows that a drama for music 
 constructed on a radically different basis should offer well- 
 marked and important advantages before meeting with 
 
LETTERS FROM BAYREUTH. 103 
 
 acceptance. Do we find such advantages in Der Ring des 
 Nibehmgen? That is the crucial question to which an 
 answer must be supplied. 
 
 What then are the chief constructive features of Der 
 Ring des Nibehmgen ? First of all, an elaboration of dia- 
 logue and scane which makes the application of music in 
 its acknowledged forms a sheer impossibility. Not only 
 so, but the application of music in any form would prima 
 facie strike the mind as opposed to the author's design. 
 " This is a drama to be read," so would the conclusion 
 run, "or mayhap played, where the difficulties of its 
 mise-en-scene can be got over." Let me prove the natural- • 
 ness of the judgment by help of some details taken almost 
 at random from various portions of the work. The first 
 scene in Die Walkure shows the meeting of Siegmund and 
 Sieglinde, and Bets forth the poetical incidents leading 
 up to an example of " purely human " action in the form 
 of incest. Here, amid much that is beautifully treated, the 
 necessities of "Wagner's system compel a fulness of verbal 
 utterance which sets the musician at defiance. 
 
 " Make me glad of my gaert," , 
 says Hunding, the husband of Sieglinde ; 
 
 " Give me notice now of his name." 
 
 In reply, Siegmund takeB up no fewer than 108 lines with 
 an autobiographical sketch. The same « hero, when left 
 
104 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 alone by his sister and the man whom she intends to drug 
 in order to "carry on" with the stranger guest, muses in 
 fifty-eight lines, and Sieglinde's first speech to him after 
 her return occupies sixty-eight. The second act of the 
 same section of the drama is wholly devoted to dialogue, 
 first between Wotan and his wife Fricka, next between the 
 same garrulous god and his daughter Briinnhilde. Dialogue 
 No. 1 contains 229 lines, the larger share of which, by right 
 of her sex, belongs to Fricka, whose chief speech takes up 
 fifty-two lines. One might imagine that after this Wagner 
 provides some relief, but the stern dramatist goes calmly on 
 to the 326 lines of dialogue No. 2. Here Wotan, compara- 
 tively reticent in presence of his wife, indulges to the full a 
 love for long stories, which, although they convey information 
 to Briinnhilde, tell us nothing we do not already know. Two 
 of these utterances are respectively seventy-eight lines long, 
 and a third extends to forty-five. Similar examples might 
 be adduced till they become as wearisome as Wotan him- 
 self — and that is saying much ; but enough if I have given 
 an idea of the form in which Wagner works as a dramatic 
 poet. That form is obviously not compatible with orthodox 
 music, but the point need not be insisted upon, since Wagner 
 never so intended. The question is whether any musician 
 could possibly illustrate in any way such a text with a satis- 
 factory artistic result. To answer this the character as 
 well as the form of the poetry must be taken into account. 
 
LETTERS PEOM BAYREUTH. 105 
 
 I have already remarked that Wagner attaches one 
 condition to words for music — they must yearn after 
 musical expression. This, of course, is no new discovery, 
 and, indeed, orthodox composers of dramatic music have 
 recognised and acted upon the fact with more completeness 
 than Wagner himself. The lyrical element in libretti is a 
 distinct homage to the requirements which Wagner formu- 
 lates; as is, no less, the practice of setting ordinary 
 dialogue to recitative. More, the desire for such " yearn- 
 ing" words often prompts libretti-makers to go absurdly 
 out of the direct path of the drama in order to find them. 
 But, inasmuch as Wagner subjects the entire drama to 
 the same form of musical expression, it follows that every 
 part of it must stand in need of that which such musical 
 expression supplies. Does Der Ring des Nibelungen meet 
 this condition? Let us ascertain by dipping here and 
 there into the body of the work for a sample. 
 
 When in Das Rheingold Alberich pursues the Ehine 
 Daughters, he exclaims, — 
 
 " Sleek as slime 
 the slope of the slate is I 
 I slant and slide ; 
 With foot and with fist 
 I can fix myself not 
 
 on the slippery surface. [He sneezes. 
 
 Moods of wet 
 flow in my nostrils ; 
 the cursed coughing ! 
 
 Does the dialogue, of which this is a fair specimen, yearn for 
 
106 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 musical expression ? Again, when Freia is taken away by 
 the giants, and the gods begin to look old, Loge speaks : — 
 
 " How poor and pale 
 
 you suddenly seem ! 
 All your cheeks have lost their light; 
 the look of your eyes is allayed ! 
 
 Up, my 3?roh, 
 
 it's early yet I 
 
 In thy hand, Dormer, 
 
 how fares with thy hammer? 
 
 What frightens Fricka ? 
 
 Greets she not gladly 
 the greyness Wotan has got 
 that makes trim quite an old man ? " 
 
 "Would anybody ever feel a prompting to sing these lines ? 
 Once more Alberich, in altercation with his brother Mime, 
 snarls, — 
 
 " For his kindly care 
 
 will the niggardly 
 
 nasty old knave — 
 
 bold and base — 
 now be nothing but King ? 
 
 The mangiest dog 
 
 might for the hoop 
 
 be meeter than he ; 
 
 hope not to have 
 thy hand on its mastering gold 1" 
 
 It is useless to multiply such instances, for these are 
 fair selections from a crowd of passages which, however 
 excellent as belonging to the drama — that point is not in 
 question — have scarcely more essential connection with 
 music than a table of logarithms. The objection, be it 
 noted, is not that Wagner introduces such lines into his 
 
LETTEES FB0M BAYEEUTH. 107 
 
 play, seeing that these, or others analogous to them, could 
 not well be kept out. It is rather that Wagner insists on 
 their being regarded as suggestive of music, and so - en- 
 deavours to establish a principle which would place the 
 dramatic composer under burdens too grievous to be 
 borne. Seeing then that both the form, and in many 
 cases the character, of Wagner's poem are at variance 
 with the universally accepted necessities of artistic music — 
 seeing also that this is not a result of dramatic exigencies, 
 but of a strained theory— the rejection of Der Ring des 
 Nibeltmgen as a model music-drama becomes inevitable. 
 But it would be unfair not to acknowledge the many 
 passages in all sections of the work from which, so to 
 speak, music naturally springs. Page after page might be 
 quoted wherein true poetic feeling abounds, and it is 
 precisely in these instances that Wagner, overcoming the 
 obstacles presented by his own musical system, is music- 
 ally successful. Otherwise, not even his genius and will 
 have been able to avoid failure. 
 
 Among the master's dramatic theories is one to the 
 effect that nothing in a stage-play should be left to 
 intellectual perception, the appeal being only to emotions, 
 acting without disturbance from mental exercise. I do 
 not mean to discuss this principle, but merely to point 
 out the result of its operation in music-drama, that result 
 being, as I think, extremely disastrous. In proportion to 
 
108 
 
 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 the elaborate character of a given story are its demands 
 upon perceptiveness ; and where perceptiveness is fore- 
 stalled, in proportion also must be the fulness of its 
 exhibition to the senses. Wagner carries this out with 
 unmerciful scrupulousness in every part of Der Ring des 
 Nibehmgen. Each section is within its limits a complete 
 thing, and the relation of incidents already known 
 necessarily therefore takes up a great part of all except 
 the first. Character after character comes on with a long 
 story of past, and to those whose vision extends over the 
 whole drama familiar, events. Thus, in Die Walkure, 
 Wotan sketches to Briinnhilde the entire plot up to the 
 point at which he speaks. In Siegfried Mime reveals to 
 the hero secrets which are no secrets to us ; Wotan and 
 Mime speak together at inordinate length of events fresh 
 in our recollection; and in his interview with Erda 
 Wotan repeats the story of Briinnhilde' s disobedience and 
 punishment which we saw enacted in Die Walkure. In 
 Gbtterdwnimerung the Norns begin with a kind of general 
 survey of the whole position ; Hagen tells of Siegfried's 
 birth and achievements, as set forth in the previous 
 sections ; Alberich rehearses to Hagen more of the hero's 
 well-known deeds, and Siegfried himself repeats the story 
 in full just previous to his death. There is no getting 
 away from this biographical fever, and at every fresh 
 entrance of a leading character we wait in dread for a 
 
LETTEKS PROM BAYBEUTH. 109 
 
 sensation kindred to that which pervades a theatre 
 when chairs are hrought down to the lamps and a 
 voice hegins, "It is now some thirty years ago," &c. 
 From a dramatic point of view this repetition of long 
 stories is terribly wearisome, but upon the musician it 
 presses hardly indeed, burdening him with a lot of stale 
 matter that necessarily involves a tremendous strain upon 
 his imagination, or, as in Wagner's case, taxes his in- 
 genuity for the means of presenting old themes in varied 
 forms, while leaving him hopeless of recommending by 
 his art that with which his art has been in most cases 
 unnecessarily connected. 
 
 Even the foregoing cursory examination of Wagner's 
 drama as a poem for music gives a sufficiently vivid idea 
 of the manner in which the claims of music are ignored, and 
 it is unnecessary to dwell upon such points as its uniformity 
 of rhythm and the frequent harshness of its alliterative 
 lines. But, wholly setting aside matters of theory, the 
 question should be asked whether Wagner's severe regard 
 for that which he looks upon as dramatic truth does not 
 ignore a grand fact impossible to be reasoned' away by any 
 number of pamphlets. Marvellous and beautiful systems 
 have been thought out by workers in all branches of 
 intellectual labour; but a moment's contact with the 
 everyday world has toppled many of them over, as the 
 disinterred body of a long-dead man crumbles into dust 
 
110 CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 at the touch of light and air. So may it be with Wagner's 
 theory of the absolute subjection of music to poetry. 
 Admitting that, as a theory, no flaw exists in it, the all- 
 important question is, " Will it work ? " I answer, " Yes, 
 when the positions instinctively assigned to the allied arts 
 are reversed; when the language of poetry exerts greater 
 and readier power than that of music ; when the poet can 
 stir the emotions and kindle the imagination more easily 
 than the musician ; when Orpheus soothes ' the inexorable 
 powers of hell' with declamation instead of song, and 
 David, leaving his harp at the palace-gate, appeases the 
 fiend of melancholy Saul with a volume of 'Elegant 
 Extracts.' " But the time for this change is not yet. Was 
 the gathering at Bayreuth a gathering of dramatists or 
 musicians ? For what, before all other, had the crowded 
 theatre ears ? Of what was the chief discourse ? The 
 only possible reply expresses a truth firm-based in the 
 very nature of things. You cannot change that truth by 
 theorising; and wherever music and poetry are associated, 
 there will the more universal and mightier art prevail. He 
 who ignores this fact, to the degradation of music, does so 
 at his peril. He may build a towering fabric for the great 
 of the earth to gather round with admiring eyes, but he 
 builds on sand. Sooner or later comes a crash; men 
 clear away a heap of rubbish, and the world goes calmly 
 on to higher things. 
 
Appendix. 
 
THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 
 
 NUREMBERG, JxjLY 25. 
 
 A journey, the object of which is Bayreuth, what time 
 Wagner exhibits the "Art-Work of the Future" in his 
 Nibelungen trilogy, cannot do better than have Nuremberg 
 for its first stage. We are told that the Festival Play in 
 the little town over yonder is to be not only the apotheosis 
 of an essentially German musician and poet, but the 
 inauguration of a new art-era for the Fatherland ; Germany, 
 through it, becoming the happy possessor of a music-drama 
 the ownership of which none could dispute, if any were 
 inclined to try. As a preparation for this event a foreigner 
 should Teutonize himself somewhat. He cannot be expected, 
 unless he do so, to get into sympathy with the occasion. 
 What, to such an unprepared one, is the Nibelungen 
 legend but a grotesque old story, on a par with the 
 veracious chronicles of the Seven Champions of Christen- 
 dom? In his case, small indeed is the power of recog- 
 nizing that at least one form of national art should rest 
 upon myths and fables, however childish or absurd, or of 
 discerning that, if you only look at these things through 
 
114 THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 
 
 proper spectacles, they are seen to have a wonderful and 
 subtle faculty of regenerating the human mind. To appre- 
 ciate what is coming at Bayreuth, therefore, one must 
 breathe the atmosphere of German art, but not, be it well 
 understood, the art of modern Germany. Though Wagner 
 may succeed in laying a foundation for the future, he 
 himself, and his method of working, belong to the far 
 past. In some respects he brings to mind the stout old 
 heroes among whom the city in which I write numbers so 
 many sons. True, they were content to labour silently for the 
 love of what they did, and for the glory of Him who is the 
 Giver of all good gifts ; whereas Wagner resembles the 
 familiar bird which cannot lay an egg without making a 
 " communication to its friends " and the world in general 
 about the fact. But, noisy self-assertion apart, the author 
 of the Nibelungen has a good deal of the antique German 
 spirit in him. That he lives and moves among German 
 traditions everybody knows, while, with regard to his latest 
 music, one may look upon it as analogous to the creations, 
 half-grotesque, half-heroic, of Gothic fancy. With all this 
 in mind, I cannot help thinking that Wagner should have 
 chosen Nuremberg for his festival. It may be objected 
 that the old town is now chiefly associated with so-called 
 Dutch toys and bad blacklead pencils ; but the Nuremberg 
 of the present matters not. Enough that here we have the 
 birthplace and nursery of much that is best in German art; 
 
THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 115 
 
 and that the history of this whilom Free City is a record 
 to be looked upon by every Teuton with pride — not to 
 mention the fact that Wagner himself has made Nuremberg 
 the scene of the only opera in which he illustrates the 
 peculiarly cumbrous mental exercise resulting in German 
 humour. 
 
 There is a fine flavour of the Middle Ages about Nurem- 
 berg. The nineteenth century beleaguers the city, it is 
 true, screaming at it with railway whistles from outside 
 the ditch, and mocking its antique grandeur with very 
 modern suburbs. But the old place, serene within 
 encircling walls and embattled towers, looks calmly on. 
 The nineteenth century has small chance inside. You 
 leave it at the gateway as a Mohammedan worshipper puts 
 off his slippers in the porch, nor does it much signify that 
 the people about the streets wear a garb belonging to the 
 present day. The " local colour " is too strong for any such 
 evidence that we are not exactly in the fifteenth century ; 
 chimney-pot hats are overshadowed by the gables upon 
 which the eyes of Albert Diirer lovingly rested, and quaint 
 old Gothic saints and devils extinguish the cut-away coat. 
 What is equally to the purpose, Nuremberg preserves its 
 antique air of repose. The hurry and bustle of a modern 
 city would not do for it at all — cannot live here, in point 
 of fact — so along the streets such carriages as the needs of 
 the place require serenely move, varied now and then by a 
 
116 THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS 
 
 cart which a couple of bullocks have placidly agreed to 
 draw on condition of choosing their own pace. But this, 
 and much more like it, is a matter of course. Every scene 
 has its peculiar influence, and Nuremberg, with magic 
 power, puts the timepiece of the Ages back a few hundred 
 years in the feeling of, at all events, the stranger within its 
 gates. The stout old burghers, whose enterprise made 
 " Nuremberg's hand go through every land," still walk 
 the streets, visible to the eye of the dullest fancy. 
 Albert Durer is yet busy at his easel in the house 
 near the Thiergarten Thor up yonder ; Adam Krafft 
 is labouring at his reliefs for the Stations of the Cross, 
 ordered by pious Martin Ketzel, who has journeyed to 
 the Holy Land and brought ba,ck the exact distances ; 
 while Peter Vischer, with his five sonB, working, as he 
 himself said, "for the praise of God Almighty alone and 
 the honour of St. Sebaldus, Prince of Heaven," have just 
 completed the wondrous shrine before which every pilgrim 
 bows, in reverent admiration of patient toil and masterful 
 art. These men, and such as they — Veit Stoss, Wohl- 
 gemuth, Hirschvogel — are the actual citizens of Nurem- 
 berg. You cannot get -away from them. On Durer's 
 tomb in St. John's churchyard some one wrote " Bmi- 
 gravit," and -Longfellow has said : — 
 
 " Emigrant" is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies ; 
 Dead he is nut, but departed — for the artist never dies. 
 
THE TOWN OF HANS SAOHS. 117 
 
 Both the inscription and the poet are wrong. The old 
 Nuremberg masters are as really present here as ever they 
 were, so true is it that an artist's work is the best and 
 most essential part of him. What grand old fellows they 
 are ! How earnest and thorough ! How childlike, yet how 
 heroic ! In fancy, what a mixture of the grotesque and 
 the noble, and in all things how real, never averse from 
 calling a spade a spade ! There is a picture in St. Siebald's 
 Church, by some unknown hand of, it is said, the twelfth 
 century, which, perhaps, best illustrates this strange com- 
 mingling. It is a Crucifixion,, and the noble, patient, 
 suffering face of the victim brings tears to the eyes, at the 
 same time that the horrible truth of the whole inclines 
 one to turn away in disgust and pain. Although the 
 painter could give us that face, he knew nothing of 
 idealizing his subject, and as a natural result we have the 
 blood-stained body, anguish-torn, the muscles of the poor 
 arms standing out like cords, while along the hollows 
 thus made a red stream flows from the pierced hands. A 
 few yards away stands the Vischer shrine to illustrate the 
 fancy which these strong workers cultivated along with 
 their realism. That the whole masterpiece of metal-work 
 rests upon snails, above which are dolphins, above which 
 are the Twelve Apostles, with an infant Christ on the top 
 of all, excites no surprise ; but the artist has thrown in 
 a multitude of little winged boys, cherubs or cupids, 
 
118 THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 
 
 engaged in various ways, more or less inappropriate. One 
 has injured his toe, and contemplates it ruefully ; another 
 weeps for an apple which a third has snatched; and every- 
 where the little fellows exhibit a want of reverence for 
 the saintly relics behind them such as moves the gravest 
 to laughter. But Nuremberg artists could be grimly as well 
 as sportively humorous. Over a church porch here there 
 is a representation of the Last Judgment, showing 
 a procession of ecclesiastics moving complacently towards 
 heaven, while certain Jews, Turks, and infidels are being 
 dragged the other way by a powerful and highly elate 
 demon, who has wound a chain round the whole of them. 
 Such things are common, but not so the touch — of satire 
 is it ? — shown where the last of the saved answers the 
 appeal of the rearmost lost one with a vigorous push 
 in the direction of the "pit." So through the whole 
 range of Nuremberg art are discernible the odd quips and 
 cranks of Gothic fancy, in union with Gothic strength and 
 grandeur. Was I not right, therefore, in saying that this 
 wonderful old city is a good preparative for the cognate 
 phenomena promised us at Bayreuth ? 
 
 But, amid a crowd of claims upon his attention, the 
 musical visitor is not likely to forget that Nuremberg is 
 the city of Hans Sachs — the home, if not the birthplace, of 
 the Master-singers. How that remarkable guild arose 
 from the ruins of the Minnegesang practised by the noble 
 
THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 119 
 
 and courtly poets of an earlier time no man knows. But 
 all traditions ascribe its origin, in great measure, to popular 
 as distinct from patrician genius — of the twelve Master- 
 singers said to have arisen in the thirteenth century, one 
 being a glass-blower, another a smitb, another a fisherman, 
 and another a rope-maker. Whatever the facts of earlier 
 times, it is certain that the guild was incorporated by the 
 Emperor Charles IV. in 1387, and that from the parent 
 school at Mayence branches spread all over Germany. Of 
 these the last to perish had its seat in Nuremberg, where 
 the influence of Sachs's fame and works made a good fight 
 against time and change. Nuremberg is thus, in more than 
 one respect, closely associated with the Master-singers, and 
 the church in which they met as late as the year 1770 may 
 claim to have been their special temple. As regards their 
 influence upon German art, much cannot be said. Like most 
 guilds of the kind, they elevated the form above the spirit, 
 loaded the practice of their craft with cumbersome and 
 senseless rules, and so degraded it that a mere capacity of 
 imitation sufficed to meet the requirements of membership. 
 One cannot resist a smile at the spectacle presented by the- 
 Nuremberg church with the Master-singers in council. A 
 low platform enclosed by curtains served for the functionary 
 who marked the faults of the candidates ; on the benches 
 surrounding it sat the masters, solemnly critical ; and in a 
 place apart stood the aspirant whose observance of rhyme 
 
120 THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 
 
 and rattle, rather than whose poetic spirit, gave occasion 
 for judgment. Generally, indeed, the measure and melody 
 had to be approved before the "poet" was allowed to 
 write a line, so complete was the bondage imposed by the 
 guild-rules. Thirty-three faults were allowed at Nuremberg ; 
 whoever exceeded that number failing to pass the ordeal, 
 all others winning a Master's seat. In the " Freisingen," 
 which must have been by far the more interesting exercise, 
 all were allowed to join, provided the themes were based 
 upon Holy Writ or " true and honourable profane mundane 
 events together with good moral maxims." That the 
 institution kept alive a certain spirit of culture by such 
 practices may be a fact; but its influence over the 
 masses — who had their own song, irom which German 
 poetry, as we know it, arose — could never have been great. 
 Hans Sachs, it is true, was a power ; not, however, because 
 he held high rank among the Master- singers. The racy, 
 homely utterances of the cobbler poet reached the hearts of 
 the people by the shortest route, and would have done so 
 in any case, for he was an artist sent on a mission which 
 he discharged with the instinct of genius first, and only in 
 the second place with reference to rule and order. Thanks 
 to this, Hans Sachs makes the most considerable figure 
 among the Master-singers, shedding upon his guild a glory 
 of which it has none too much. In return, Nuremberg is 
 proud of Hans Sachs — not, however, to the extent of 
 
THE TOWN OF HANS SACHS. 121 
 
 purchasing his house and consecrating it to his memory. 
 A wine merchant lives on the spot where the poet hammered 
 his leather and composed his songs; but the street is 
 named after him, which is something, and the house- 
 front bears aloft a portrait of the staunch old hero. 
 Thither go visitors from every land, some mayhap, as 
 myself, afterwards following the route by which they bore 
 his body along the Via Dolorosa of Adam Krafft, past 
 the Calvary, and so to the Golgotha where it now rests. 
 Sachs lies among a crowd of the old patrician burghers, 
 whose massive monuments are covered with heraldic in- 
 signia and pompous epitaphs, executed in ironwork such 
 as might have come from the foundry of Yischer. But the 
 poet's grave is not thus marked. He had no coat of arms, 
 and was entitled to quarter nothing that a herald's college 
 would recognize. The visitor, nevertheless, turns his back 
 upon the Nuremberg nobility with all their post-mortem 
 grandeur, and has eyes only for the grave of the poor 
 cobbler. So in the long run is Wisdom justified of her 
 children. 
 
 Upon the whole town rests the glamour of that which 
 we fondly regard as an heroic age ; but should there be in 
 this any sort of danger to the enthusiastic visitor, let him 
 go to a certain tower on the wall and contemplate 
 the choice assortment of articles thought necessary to 
 mediaeval government. The Iron Virgin will be enough 
 
122 THE TOWN OT HANS SACHS. 
 
 to set matters right. Nuremberg, true to its traditions, 
 had a grimly humorous way of adjusting its disputes with 
 troublesome people. The Virgin took them to her embrace, 
 and a few minutes later dropped them into oblivion through 
 a convenient trap-door. Nuremberg preserves the Virgin 
 (not for use), and also certain full-flavoured smells, the 
 tendency of which is to reconcile the most enthusiastic 
 laudator temporis acti t6 the prosaic character of modern 
 civilization. 
 
THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZART. 
 
 Salzbueg, August 1. 
 The Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg was a potential indi- 
 vidual in the olden time. He held his head high among the 
 grandees of the Empire. Two hundred thousand souls owned 
 him for their temporal as well as spiritual chief, and he could 
 at a pinch — having exchanged the mitre for the helmet — 
 lead 6,000 men into the field. Everywhere in his own 
 dominions he was a very great man indeed, and did mighty 
 things. He built churches enough to make every in- 
 habitant a saint ; erected splendid fountains ; bored 
 tunnels through rocks, and carved his name at each 
 entrance ; looked after the welfare of his people with the 
 birch-rod of paternal discipline in his hand, and permitted 
 nobody to do or say anything opposed to his reverend and 
 orthodox judgment. There were times, it is true, when 
 this embodiment of a united Church and State was not 
 happy. Perverse generations arose with the audacity 
 to think that the Prince-Archbishop was an abatable 
 nuisance, under which impression they, did their utmost 
 
124 THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZART. 
 
 to get rid of him. But his sacerdotal Highness enjoyed 
 the luck of a personage who could not possibly have been 
 his master, and by some means or other — occasionally by 
 battering the town with cannon — held on to dignity and 
 power, spending, on the whole, a good time in the castle 
 with which, to be as near heaven as possible without 
 quitting earth, he had crowned the highest adjacent hill. 
 From his proud place of Hohensalzburg, the Prince- 
 Archbishop looked down upon the town in a double sense, 
 and might have been forgiven the thought that, under no 
 conceivable circumstances, could a greater man than him- 
 self arise within its limits. Imagine the feelings of the 
 reverend and puissant gentleman had some far-seer — say 
 Theophrastus Paracelsus, who died in a house just across 
 the river — found audience for words like these : " May it 
 please your Highness's Grace, the time is approaching when 
 Salzburg will have but a shadowy Prince-Archbishop, when 
 this your castle will be a barrack, and when from all parts 
 of the world pilgrims will flock to see here the birthplace 
 of the son of a poor musician." The result of such a fore- 
 cast would, probably, have been the prophet's acquaintance 
 with some of the ingenious mechanical appliances used in 
 Salzburg to supplement the anathemas of the Church. But 
 the gift of second sight may have belonged also to the great 
 man, in which case he would have replied : " Your hero of 
 the future will live in poverty, die young, and be buried in 
 
THE BIETHPLAOE OF MOZAET 125 
 
 a nameless grave. What has the Prince-Archbishop of 
 Salzburg to fear from his rivalry? " Nevertheless, at this 
 day Salzburg belongs to the son of the poor musician. 
 Mozart is the true Prince of the beautiful little city, and, 
 by comparison, the dignitaries who lived in the castle above 
 are a mere sequence of sounding but empty names. You 
 cannot walk about the streets without constantly recognizing 
 the supremacy of the divine master. The people talk of 
 Mozart as though conscious that the thought of him is 
 uppermost in your mind ; his spirituel face meets the eye 
 in countless windows ; tradesmen carry on their business 
 under the shadow of his name ; his melodies ring out from 
 the campaniles of the churches ; after him public places 
 are called ; and in the very centre of the town his statue 
 stands like that of a king — the effigy of one whom, indeed, 
 kings have, on that same spot, delighted to honour. The 
 Prince-Archbishop is nowhere by comparison. In front of 
 the cathedral one sees a stone figure, robed and mitred, dirty, 
 time-worn, and with no face to speak of. That represents 
 the present state of the whole line of clerico-secular dig- 
 nities. The passing years have battered their memorials, 
 and nobody cares a jot about them. 
 
 "Mozart's Geburtshaus" — the inscription stares you in 
 the face as you pass through the old archway near the 
 bridge and advance towards a line of five-storied dwellings 
 forming one side of a narrow street, known as Getreide 
 
126 THE BIRTHPLACE OP MOZART. 
 
 Gasse. In 1756 the Mozarts — Mozart pere being, as every- 
 body knows, Kapellmeister to the Prince-Archbishop — 
 tenanted the third floor of this residence. It is a large 
 house, and at present contains more than one family, 
 unless, indeed, the grocer, to whose trade the ground floor 
 is devoted, makes abundant profit, and has a big establish- 
 ment. Whether the Kapellmeister rented any other part 
 than the story over the front windows of which a gilded 
 lyre now shines may be doubted. His family was small, 
 his salary not great, and his disposition inclined rather 
 to the accumulation of money than to spending it for 
 any purpose that was not strictly essential. We may 
 assume, therefore, that the Mozarts lived exclusively on 
 the third floor, and that in one of the rooms facing the 
 street happened, 120 years ago, the event which gave to 
 the world of music its most perfect artist, and to the lovers 
 of beauty an unfailing source of pleasure. A lowly place 
 was that wherein the wonder-child first saw the light ; but 
 there is a dignity about it now such as cannot be asso- 
 ciated even with palaces — a dignity so easy of reflection 
 that some of it shines in the face of the grocer, and attracts 
 to him our regards. Surely all the musical inhabitants of 
 Salzburg buy their tea and coffee at " Mozart's Geburts- 
 haus " ! Property, we often hear, has its duties ; but it 
 has also its rights, and one of them is the right of quiet 
 enjoyment. I have not, therefore, ventured to intrude 
 
THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZART. 127 
 
 upon the inhabitants of the third floor. Wishing them joy 
 of so distinguished a residence, it would hardly be con- 
 sistent to help in worrying them out of it. For the same 
 reason do I respect the threshold of the one-story dwelling 
 in Hannibal Platz, on the front of which is writ large, 
 "Mozart's Wohnhaus." The elder Mozart must have 
 prospered at Salzburg before he could have ventured to 
 move from the Getreide Gasse to that which is, by com- 
 parison, a mansion. It appears that he tenanted no more 
 than a wing; but the building covers a great extent. of 
 ground, there being on the upper floor no fewer than 
 eleven windows. Entrance is gained to the place through 
 an archway, and the entire edifice has an antique, sub- 
 stantial, and highly-respectable appearance. That it is 
 well cared for a glance suffices to show. Flowers bloom in 
 the windows, the house-front is bright and clean, and a 
 fine old-fashioned air of repose is given to it by the quaint 
 and quiet Platz in which it stands. Here, then, is the 
 home of the great composer — the spot to which, amid 
 many wanderings, his affectionate nature turned with con- 
 stant delight. It was to this house that the letters came 
 which are now read by the world — letters full of dutiful 
 affection to an exacting father, charged with a million 
 kisses to the mother, or bright with sportive messages to 
 the sister. We can fancy with what joy those epistles 
 were received, for we know how carefully they were pre- 
 
128 THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZABT. 
 
 served, and one likes to imagine even the pedantic Kapell- 
 meister, who meets the postman in going to mass, retracing 
 his steps, at the risk of being late for the " Eyrie," that he 
 might share Wolfgang's news with his family. Beyond 
 this bourgeois residence and the modest lodging in 
 Vienna, Mozart never rose, so that there is a mighty 
 step from his condition during life to that represented 
 here by the Platz named after him and the kingly statue 
 which lifts its proud head in the centre. The key to the 
 change is, of course, in everybody's hands, and was im- 
 pressively suggested to me last Sunday morning, when 
 passing the open doors of the ornate Italian church which 
 does duty as a cathedral. Sounds of solemn music floated 
 out into the open, and a little crowd of idlers, revelling in 
 the shade of the building, listened and looked as, at the far 
 end of the interior, clouds of incense obscured the lighted 
 altar and half hid the resplendent forms of the priests. 
 The spectacle is common enough to travellers in Catholic 
 lands, but here it had at least one feature of rare signifi- 
 cance, for the beautiful music that filled the vast church 
 came from the genius of Mozart. Deeply as the congrega- 
 tion may have felt the influence of the moment, they could 
 hardly estimate the effect upon a stranger, who, familiar 
 with the Mass in B flat from childhood, listened to its 
 "Sanctus" in the building for which the master wrote, 
 and surrounded by memorials of his career. Under no 
 
THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZAET. 129 
 
 other circumstances could the music have had such power, 
 or have been more fully able to account for the transition 
 from poverty and neglect to the homage of a world. 
 
 What so natural as that Salzburg should possess 
 many and priceless relics of its illustrious son? These, 
 as most people in England know — thanks to the per- 
 formance given by Madame Adelina Patti at the Boyal 
 Italian Opera a few years ago, in aid of the Mozarteum 
 here — are the property of an institution which seeks to 
 honour the great composer chiefly by training others to 
 follow the art he adorned. There is reason to believe that 
 the laudable enterprise is not supported to the full extent 
 of its merits, but it has, at least, succeeded in filling one 
 small room with greater interest than belongs to all the 
 neighbouring palaces put together. The Mozarteum 
 cannot yet boast a local habitation of its own, and its relics 
 are to be found in an antique mansion forming part of an 
 obscure bye-street. Passing under an archway, the visitor 
 ascends to the first floor, where, if he be keen-sighted 
 enough to observe certain faint directions, he may at length 
 find himself in an apartment strongly suggestive of a 
 curiosity shop. On my entrance, the sole occupant was a 
 little man, who sprang briskly up with a hurried salutation, 
 rushed to a harpsichord, seated himself, and saying, " Thit 
 is Mozart's concert instrument," began to play " La ci 
 darem." I don't know whether the little man desired to 
 
 E 
 
130 THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZAET. 
 
 impress me by a sort of tow de force, but it soon appeared 
 tbat be gave everybody an exactly similar reception. On 
 each visitor's arrival be would dart to tbe barpsicbord and 
 plunge into tbe familiar duet, afterwards going tbrougb 
 bis round of description witb unabated enthusiasm for 
 tbe subject, laughing as heartily at things and events as 
 though they were to him perfectly fresh and new. He bad 
 much to show besides the quaint harpsichord with its feeble 
 tinkle. Mozart's spinet stands close at band — a feebler 
 machine still, and one adapted to please Othello, as making 
 " music which may not be heard." Hanging on the walls 
 are original portraits of the Mozart family, from the com- 
 poser's grandmother down to his sons, including Constance 
 Weber and her second husband, Von Nissen. Beneath 
 one small likeness of the great man himself is placed a 
 lock of his hair — very dark brown — and near it is a drawing 
 of his ear, showing an abnormally large " bell," as though 
 nature intended him to be a gifted listener. An ajjiche 
 of the first performance of Die Zcvuberflote is also ex- 
 hibited, together with a little song (ms.), the words as 
 well as the music of which were written by Mozart — 
 his only appearance in a double capacity. Among other 
 treasures are piles of original letters, numerous ms. 
 compositions, Mozart's album, his ring, watch appendages, 
 snuff-box, and pocket-book — a somewhat dandy article, 
 containing, one is surprised to find, a label marked 
 
THE BIBTHPLAOB OF MOZABT. 131 
 
 "Genuine Court Plaster, London." Was, then, Court 
 plaster among the exports of the British metropolis, or did 
 Mozart purchase the article during his visit to England ? 
 Furthermore, what did he do with it? Could he not 
 handle his razor deftly ? or had he a taste for " beauty 
 spots ? " Anyhow there are the dandy pocket-book, the 
 London court plaster, the ring, the watch ornament — a 
 ponderous affair — and the really handsome snuff-box, 
 equipped with which, and perhaps a " clouded cane," our 
 Mozart must have made a respectable figure, even outside 
 the realms of genius. On the whole, and considering the 
 difficulty of obtaining such relics, the Mozarteum has 
 done well. As years jog on, it may do better, and ac- 
 cumulate under one roof every important thing deriving 
 its interest from personal association with the illustrious 
 composer. 
 
 I did not intend making any reference in this letter to 
 the aspect of the town and neighbourhood, but it deserves 
 to be pointed out how the scenes amid which Mozart spent 
 his youthful years must have had no small influence in 
 stimulating that sense of the beautiful which his works so 
 perfectly display. Here he saw beauty all around — a won- 
 derful combination of mountain and valley, hill and plain, 
 rushing river and quiet lake, hoary castle and solemn 
 church, quaint streets and blooming gardens, waving 
 woods and smiling meadows. Nothing was wanting to the 
 
132 
 
 THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZAET. 
 
 splendour and loveliness of the pictures upon -which his 
 young eyes rested, we would fain believe, with constant 
 pleasure. Mozart is gone— if, indeed, that may be said of 
 him — but the pictures remain ; and it is right that scenes 
 so exquisite should be for ever associated with the memory 
 of one who was a master of beauty. 
 
THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 To the musical visitor, Vienna, with all its magnificence,, 
 is a place of graves. Notable things are done there now 
 in opera-house and concert-room ; composers may still 
 be found there of whom the great world outside has- 
 heard ; but the artistic glory of the capital chiefly illumines- 
 the cemeteries outside its walls. Gluck, Haydn, Mozart,. 
 Beethoven, Schubert lie in death around the city on which 
 they helped to confer an immortality more precious than 
 any arising from deeds of arms, from European con- 
 gresses or imperial splendours ; and no one with musical 
 sympathies can rest in Vienna long before making a pil- 
 grimage to the shrines, for ever sacred, where reposes " all 
 of genius that could die." 
 
 It was a scorching August day when I came out from 
 under the protecting shadow of St. Stephen's to search 
 for the grave of Mozart. I had lingered long in the 
 coolness and solitude of the Chapel of the Cross, where 
 
134 THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 the final benediction was pronounced over the composer's 
 body; and my route was that taken by the poor, scanty, 
 and straggling procession to the burial-ground of St. Marx, 
 far away outside the Maria Hilf lines. Funeral trains 
 were still passing, perhaps to the same destination, but 
 under how different circumstances f As I walked in the 
 sunlight amid the bustle and animation of a great city, 
 which, not less than Parish seems in such glorious weather 
 to breathe the very atmosphere of gaiety, it was impossible 
 not to contrast the scene with that presented on the 
 stormy December day when Mozart took his last sad 
 journey. I could picture the sorry sight — one that must 
 sting the conscience of humanity as long as any sense 
 of feeling remains. As the coffin is borne out of the 
 cathedral in the pouring rain numbers who have attended 
 the service disappear round the angles of the building 
 and are seen no more. Others, faithful for the nonce, 
 shelter themselves beneath umbrellas and accompany the 
 remains along the muddy streets, but eyen these cannot 
 hold out to the end. "They all forsook him and fled." 
 There was not even "that other disciple" to "follow 
 him afar off." So, unattended, save by hirelings, the 
 body was carried forth into the dismal country and laid 
 in the common grave. 
 
 Passing the " lines " in the direction of the cemetery, 
 it appeared as though a malicious fate persecuted the 
 
THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 135 
 
 composer even after burial. What may have been the 
 immediate surroundings of St. Marx ninety years ago 
 can now only be guessed. Let us hope that there were 
 meadows, and trees, and singing birds ; that flowers 
 bloomed in rich profusion, and that over all reigned 
 the peace of nature. But, if so, nothing of it remains. 
 Vienna has grown, till now the burial-ground is an oasis 
 in the desert which a great city makes of the quarters 
 it ultimately means to cover with houses or devote to 
 its many needs. To the left is a huge cattle-market, 
 where Hungarian graziers drive hard bargains with 
 Vienna butchers, who doubtless take revenge on their 
 own customers. Away to the right is a big barrack, 
 noisy with words of command and rifle-practice. Parallel 
 with the road runs a dirty canal bordered by straggling 
 houses ; while even up to the cemetery walls extends a 
 waste, amid which excavators and lime-burners ply their 
 trade. Those who remember the neighbourhood of Copen- 
 hagen Fields when first given up to the men "whose 
 talk is about bullocks " may form some idea of the scenes 
 amid which Mozart reposes. But once inside the hallowed 
 inclosure all these things are forgotten. The entrance, 
 situated in low ground by the canal-side, has a quaint 
 homely aspect, with its unpretending gate and guardian's 
 lodge, on each side of which a few humble vendors of 
 .flowers and immortelles expose their goods for sale. 
 
136 THEEE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 St. Marx is clearly not a fashionable cemetery, for as 
 I enter it, glad to find a place of rest and shelter from 
 the heat, I seem to be alone with the dead. Actually, 
 however, there is life about — the life that lives on death. 
 In the distance I see a man tending a grave. He is a 
 feeble old fellow, who stops now and then to straighten 
 his back and wipe his perspiring face. As he does this 
 on one occasion he observes my presence, and, with the 
 unvarying courtesy of an Austrian, gives me " good day." 
 I return the wish, and ask for information as to Mozart's 
 grave. The old man leans upon a tomb and reflects as 
 though he had heard the name of Mozart, but was 
 uncertain in what connection. " Mozart ! Mozart ! " he 
 mutters, and thinks desperately hard, but to no purpose. 
 Then he shouts "Max," and a response comes out of the 
 earth a few yards off. Max is digging, and I see his sun- 
 burnt face turned towards us from a fresh-raised mound. 
 " Where is Mozart's grave ? " queries the old man. By this 
 time Max has put a bottle to his lips, which he removes 
 only so long as is necessary to answer, " Tell the Herr 
 to look among the little crosses." The old man bends 
 painfully down to his task again, and I move up the gentle 
 slope of the avenue in search of " little crosses." Still up 
 and up among the tombs of the Viennese burghers ; but the 
 crosses are all big. At last, there are the small ones ! acres 
 of them rising above the rank grass as though the ground 
 
THEEE FAMOUS GEAVES. 137 
 
 had brought them forth like weeds, and gay in many 
 places with tawdry tributes of affection. Turning aside, 
 I wander amongst them, reading on every hand "the short 
 and simple annals of the poor," and am thus engaged 
 when I come full upon a pedestalled statue, towering 
 high by contrast with the lowliness around, and see the 
 letters of Mozart's name flashing in the sunlight. Music, 
 in " sculptured stone," is before me, bending with saddened 
 face over the "Benedictus" of the master's Requiem; 
 and an inscription tells all who care to read that this 
 is Vienna's tribute to the illustrious child of Salzburg. 
 It is too late, Vienna. Thou art right to seek a locus 
 penitentice ; but no tears can wash out the remembrance 
 of thy sin, nor can votive offerings atone for it. When 
 he who ranks among the greatest of all thy adopted sons 
 was consigned here to the common grave — buried almost 
 as a dog is buried — a deed was done never to be effaced. 
 It is not even known for sure that the place of this 
 monument is consecrated by his remains. But, though the 
 reproach of Vienna endures, the matter may, after all, be 
 well ordered. Mozart rose from the people, and to the people 
 he has returned. His beautiful memorial towers above the 
 "little crosses," to teach us that genius is independent 
 alike of birth, of the accidents of life, and the utmost 
 possible contumely of death. As though to show this 
 more emphatically the poor graves literally crowd around 
 
138 THEEE FAMOUS GEAVES. 
 
 the monument. It cannot be said of the spot where the 
 master is thought to lie : — 
 
 " It was a solitary mound, 
 Which two spear's-lengths of level ground 
 Did from all other graves divide, 
 As if in some respect of pride." 
 
 Almost the nearest cross is that over the remains of a 
 mechanic, whose widow and children speak from the 
 inscription plate, in homely but touching verse, about the 
 void in their home. Less happy in death than even this 
 obscure workman was the illustrious composer. The 
 widow of Mozart, if she felt any sorrow at all, made no 
 public manifestation of it. " It was his attached servant 
 alone," says Nohl, " who thought of asking Constance 
 whether a cross should not be erected over the grave. 
 Her reply was that this was sure to be done, concluding 
 that the parish where the benediction took place would also 
 supply a cross. But subsequently, when she recovered, 
 and, her first burst of grief being over, she visited the 
 churchyard with her friends, there was a new sexton there 
 who could not point out the grave." So the resting- 
 place of genius remained unhonoured, till Vienna, in a 
 fit of penitence, erected the monument as near to it as 
 could be guessed. 
 
 Standing in the quiet cemetery, by the side of that 
 illustrious tomb, I fall to thinking how much the world 
 owes its dead occupant, and then I begin to wonder at 
 
THEEE FAMOUS GBAVES. 139 
 
 the fewness of the world's tokens of gratitude. All around 
 me the graves of common men are loaded with offerings 
 of affection ; but on Mozart's memorial hang only two 
 poor wreaths, long since faded and now dropping to pieces. 
 It is clear that of those who for months past have visited 
 the place not one has cared to leave behind a tribute of 
 reverence and love. Had none of them in their heart 
 a feeling akin to that which prompted Shakespeare's 
 exquisite lines : — 
 
 " With fairest flowers 
 While summer lasts, and I live here, Kdele, 
 111 sweeten thy sad grave. Thon sha.lt not lack 
 The flower that's lite thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
 The azured harebell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
 The .leaf of eglantine, which, not to slander, 
 Outsweetened not thy breath : the ruddock would, 
 With charitable bill, . . . 
 . . . . bring thee all this ; 
 Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none, 
 To winter-ground thy corse " ? 
 
 But it may be that the disproportion between the best 
 possible offering and its object has stayed the else willing 
 hand ? Even if so, it shall not stay mine. Fortified by 
 classic precedent, I do my best to " sweeten " Mozart's 
 " sad grave " with "fairest flowers," and turn away from 
 the spot as one leaves a solemn temple, "all reverence 
 and fear." 
 
 Back to the busy streets of the city, and then once 
 more I leave them behind, emerging now on the road 
 by which the funeral trains of Beethoven and Schubert 
 
140 
 
 THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 passed to their destination — the historic cemetery of 
 Wahring. Half a century ago Wahring was really a 
 village, separated from Vienna by a wide space of open 
 country, and its burial-ground, though not connected 
 with any religious edifice, bore the character of a village 
 churchyard. It must have been a quiet pretty place 
 in those days, for even now, when the advancing capital 
 has thrown its arms about on all sides, a walk down 
 the main street reveals many a picturesque nook on 
 either hand as yet unreached by the march of improve- 
 ment. The street is full of quaint old houses, and not 
 even the life poured into it through the proximity of 
 upstart rivals can altogether dispel the air of congenial 
 repose. It was a happy thought to bury Beethoven at 
 Wahring in the old ground over whose inclosing wall 
 ancient buildings gaze with appropriate sedateness of 
 aspect, and within hearing still of the sweet pastoral 
 noises that so often attuned his soul to harmony. As for 
 Schubert, we know that, even in delirium, his mind 
 dwelt upon the idea of resting near the greater master. 
 " I implore you," cried the dying man, " to carry me 
 to my room, and don't leave me in this corner under 
 the earth. What ! do I deserve no place above the 
 earth?" "Dear Franz, be calm," pleaded Ferdinand, 
 "you are in your own room — the same you always 
 had — and you are lying in your own bed." Then came 
 
THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 141 
 
 the answer, weak and querulous, but able to decide the 
 place of Schubert's rest. "No, it is not true; Beethoven 
 is not laid here." So it came to pass that the two, little 
 associated though they were in life, lie in death almost 
 side by side, only three graves separating their remains. 
 
 Passing up the village street, now well-nigh deserted 
 because of midday heat and glare, I come upon a 
 butcher lounging over the half-door of his little shop, 
 and him I ask as to the whereabouts of the cemetery. 
 In that butcher's mind the place is clearly associated 
 with a brewery, and through taking observation of a 
 brewery, under his direction, I find it out. The burial- 
 ground abuts upon the road, to which it presents a high 
 wall, with a, gate flanked by the usual guardian's lodge. 
 I try the gate, but it is locked, and I fancy my pilgrimage 
 will end for this time in disappointment. Presently, 
 however, an old woman, bearing a watering-pot, crosses 
 the area of sunlit gravel within the archway, sees me 
 standing outside, and bids me enter through the lodge. 
 A moment after I pull just such another latch-string 
 as that which admitted Little Eed Eiding-Hood to her 
 grandmother's cottage, and am free of the inclosure. 
 The old woman, however, has had time enough to 
 disappear about her business ; nor is there any one 
 else in all the place, as far as I can see, to 
 act as guide to the desired spot. So I proceed to 
 
142 THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 discover it by the exhaustive process, toiling up one 
 avenue and down another between battalions of tombs, 
 erected, if the inscriptions on them may be believed, to 
 the most virtuous people that death ever removed from 
 a world where virtue is sadly wanted. There is so much 
 to exhaust that I am on the point of giving up the search 
 pro tern., when I see in the distance the outline of a 
 familiar head. A minute afterwards I am standing by 
 the graves of the illustrious masters, impressed with the 
 situation and all its associations as none but those can 
 be to whom the masters themselves have acted, from 
 youth upwards, as cherished companions and a source 
 of unfailing delight. The vaults are so placed that the 
 headstones rest against the boundary wall of the cemetery, 
 and in each case there is a little inclosure paved with 
 a ponderous stone, and surrounded by a low iron rail- 
 ing, within which admittance is gained by a gate. I need 
 not remind the musical reader that the aetual memorials 
 differ much dErom each other. On Beethoven's, besides 
 the golden lyre and the serpent emblem of immortality, 
 there is nothing but the name of him whose mortal part 
 rests beneath ; whereas Schubert's is adorned by a bust 
 of the master, and bears Grillparzer's inscription to the 
 well-remembered effect that " Death has here entombed a 
 rich treasure, but still more glorious hopes." Between 
 the two stands a monument to a certain Graf O'Donnell, 
 
THREE FAMOUS GRAVES. 143 
 
 one of the Irish soldiers of fortune who have never been 
 without representatives in the Austrian army. No doubt 
 the Graf was a potent man in his day, and perhaps 
 bespattered the musicians of Vienna with mud from his 
 charger's heels as he caracoled along the streets. But 
 — so true is it that Heaven is just, and that in the long 
 run all things find their level — Graf O'Donnell is only 
 known now because accident decided that his grave should 
 adjoin those of men who lived in poverty and affliction, 
 bearing no patent of nobility from King or Kaiser, and 
 not even having had the honour to be born, as birth is 
 understood in high and mighty circles. 
 
 " Some, when they die, die all ; their mouldering clay 
 Is but an emblem of their memories ; 
 The space quite closes up through -which they passed ; " 
 
 while others, not so honoured in life, — 
 
 " Pluck the shining age from vulgar time 
 And give it whole to late posterity." 
 
 As I stand musing before the tombs, a woman, armed 
 with a knife, comes up the avenue, opens the gate of 
 the Beethoven inclosure, and begins carefully to clip the 
 trailing plant that almost covers with perennial greenness 
 the recumbent stone. Then I notice with what attention 
 the grave and memorial are looked after. Then also 
 I observe with surprise and pain that the Schubert tomb 
 is falling into decay. Its plants are allowed to straggle 
 as they please ; the stonework is out of level and partially 
 
144 THKEE FAMOUS GRAVES. 
 
 ruinous ; the fastening of the gate is broken, so that the 
 inclosure cannot be kept sacred, and, generally, the 
 appearance is that of a monument about which nobody 
 cares even to the extent of a few pounds a year. Surely a 
 state of things so disgraceful to Vienna only needs pointing 
 out in order at once to be set right. If not, then should 
 the admirers of Schubert belonging to the distant island 
 which was among the first of countries to acknowledge 
 his genius with a unanimous shout of admiration — then 
 should English amateurs go to the rescue and raise, as 
 they easily could, a small fund wherewith to keep the 
 tomb of their favourite in lasting repair. Along with a 
 statement of the need for action I venture to give the 
 suggestion of a Schubert's Tomb Fund, and trust it may 
 not be wholly without result. 
 
 As I move reluctantly away from a spot so sacred and 
 from a scene that, once looked at, is permanently photo- 
 graphed on the brain, I meet a tourist, to all appearance 
 an American, carrying a red guidebook and closely scanning 
 the monuments on either hand. Presently I turn and gaze 
 up the gentle slope of the avenue. The American is 
 standing bareheaded before the tombs, his white hair 
 glistening in the sunlight as though it reflected some of 
 the glory of the masters. Ever since I have accepted that 
 motionless figure as part of the picture — the world through 
 him offering homage at the shrine of genius. 
 
A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 
 
 Had the Bayreuth Festival taken place in England it is 
 tolerably certain that the official arrangements would have 
 comprised a dinner, with a lord in the chair, and a toast- 
 master behind him, the " usual loyal and patriotic toasts," 
 in addition to that " of the evening," and any number of 
 speeches, from the oration of Wagner himself down to 
 the stammering utterance of the retired Rear-Admiral 
 who is always telling us that " the Navy, my lord, will, 
 if called upon, I can assure your lordship, do its duty 
 as in former times." But as the Festival happened in 
 Germany, the idea of a feast other than that of reason, 
 and a flow other than that of soul, was left about for 
 any one to pick up who chose. Naturally, the pro- 
 prietor of the Restauration attached to the Wagner 
 theatre seized upon it, with a tradesmanlike view to 
 profit, as well as, no doubt, a commendable desire to unite 
 the master ai>d his disciples under pleasant circum- 
 stances. Wagne 1 * agreeing that this should be, the theatre 
 was one day bespotted with handbills emanating from the 
 
146 A SUEPEK WITH WAGNEK. 
 
 spirited caterer, who desired all and sundry to note that 
 for five marks of the realm the honour of a supper with 
 the great man could be obtained. I paid five marks and 
 enjoyed the distinction, which was certainly cheap at the 
 price. 
 
 It was an " off-day " of the Festival, when one might 
 have been excused for lolling in the shade of a Bier- 
 garten, trying to clear one's throat of accumulated dust, 
 or anticipating the delight of the happy hour when next 
 the eye would rest upon a well-spread English dinner- 
 table — food in Bayreuth was only to be had by skilful 
 foraging. But one could not yield to this temptation and 
 also sup with Wagner — fancy supper at five o'clock or 
 thereabouts ! — so once more I dragged wearily along the 
 blinding choking road that led to the scene of operations, 
 passing as I did so the squirt upon wheels which the 
 corporate intellect of Bayreuth had previously determined 
 was a watering-cart of sufficient dimensions. A motley 
 throng gradually whitened themselves with me along that 
 via dolorosa — enthusiastic Yankee ladies, in a chronic 
 state of ecstasy about " darling Liszt," whose shadow they 
 hoped would fall upon them by-and-by ; wild-looking 
 Germans of various types, bound by the common bond 
 of long hair and spectacles'; unbelieving Frenchmen, 
 always keeping together, as though for mutual assistance, 
 and always meditating epigrams of a withering character ; 
 
A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 147 
 
 and English pilgrims not a few, looking at one another 
 askance, as who should say, " If you don't agree with me 
 about this business take care -when I catch you at home." 
 One after another, or in straggling groups, we gained 
 the Wagnerian inclosure, pulled ourselves up the. gentle 
 ascent, and sank to rest in the open balconies of the 
 refreshment buildings. Inside preparations were making 
 for many guests ; but the resources of the establishment 
 were not taxed to the degree one might have expected. 
 The sanguine eye had seen visions of the whole town-full 
 of visitors, to say nothing of the town itself, rushing pell- 
 mell to the supper-tables. But the reality came short 
 of the dream, and only some four or five hundred thought 
 the honour worth its cost. The rest were wrong. 
 
 A blazing sun, like that in the " Ancient Mariner," 
 drooped over the distant town as we were permitted to 
 enter the supper-room and seek our places. Let me here 
 describe the arrangement of the tables, asking the reader 
 to imagine the nave of a church, having at one end a 
 transept sunk six feet or more below the level. The 
 transept was the place of honour. There, at tables seat- 
 ing some dozen guests each, were placed the visitors of 
 distinction, and indeed, most of those who had come 
 from foreign lands. On the higher floor of the nave were 
 ranged other tables stretching along its whole length, the 
 centre one devoted to artists and persons connected with 
 
148 A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 
 
 the theatre. It followed, of course, that the guests in the 
 nave were for the most part out of sight of those in the 
 transept, and vice versd ,• hut the arrangement quite 
 harmonised with proceedings marked generally by a 
 delightful absence of rule and order. The chief place of 
 honour was at the table immediately facing the steps 
 leading down from nave to transept, and round this 
 soon gathered a group amid which the striking figure 
 •of Liszt was prominent. Madame Wagner, too, was 
 there, and naturally the " Master " also : but he had 
 taken a resolution. Eejecting the distinguished place 
 assigned him, and preferring to be with his artists, 
 he mounted the steps and moved to the head of 
 the centre table in the nave, amid loud applause. 
 The coup met with the success it deserved, and the 
 American ladies near me had such an aggravation of 
 ecstasy as could only be relieved by copious notes in 
 dainty pocket-books. At length all was ready, and at the 
 sound of a bell out filed a little army of waiters with the 
 first of the curious " courses " that make up a German 
 repast. Englishmen who are unacquainted with the 
 fashions of their Teutonic relatives on such occasions, and 
 who know only that among themselves the feeding pro- 
 cess is solemn enough to go on undisturbed, will scarcely 
 be prepared for the information that at Bayreuth we 
 took bodily- and mental refreshment in alternate layers. 
 
A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 149 
 
 Sandwichlike, a speech came between two dishes, and a 
 dish between two speeches or more, for as enthusiasm 
 warmed the cacoethes loquendi prevailed. The effect upon 
 our supper, I am bound to add; was not happy. With 
 such hunger as characterised life .in Bayreuth only half ap- 
 peased, it was provoking — I put it feelingly to the average 
 Englishman — to see dishes cooling in the hands of the 
 waiters, who dared not serve them till some long-wfnded 
 orator chose to sit down. But worse still remains -to be 
 told. It is sometimes said that no half-dozen Anglo- 
 Saxons can meet together without electing a chairman 
 and putting themselves under government : — 
 
 " So work the honey-bees, 
 Creatures that by a rule in nature teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom." 
 
 But on this occasion there was no order, and every man did 
 what was right in his own eyes. As at a Quaker's meeting, 
 those who were .moved to speak spoke, when they could 
 get the chance ; and it was simply owing to the modesty 
 or self-restraint of the guests that a score were not 
 haranguing their neighbours at the same moment. How 
 much of the proceedings therefore was either comical 
 or aggravating, according as the unaccustomed spectator 
 chose to regard it, I need not stop to tell. The interest 
 of the evening really began when a gentleman of 
 distinguished bearing, a member, I am told, of the 
 
150 A SUPPER WITH WAGNEE. 
 
 Hungarian Parliament, solemnly advanced to the foot, 
 of the steps leading to the nave and began a set speech 
 in praise of Wagner. He at once commanded attention. 
 The guests above left their tables and crowded to see the 
 speaker, while the master himself posed in the midst of 
 them, gravely listening, to the details of his own tran- 
 scendent merits. The Hungarian, if such in truth he was, 
 did his work well. He had a good voice, the manner of 
 an orator, a fluent delivery, and the art of adapting 
 -himself to his audience, so that every one seemed to be 
 hearing the expression of his own thoughts. Moreover 
 he worked up to a striking peroration, in which, pointing 
 to Wagner, he spoke of the poet-composer as another 
 Siegfried, who had " rode the flaming fire " to wake the 
 Briinnhilde of art with a kiss. Of course the trope, 
 calmly looked at, strikes us as utter nonsense, because 
 Siegfried- Wagner, whatever fire he may have gone through, 
 .found Briinnhilde as broad awake as was the Walkyrie 
 maiden when the sham G-unther stole upon her. But the 
 purpose of the time was served. The parable sent its 
 hearers into ecstasies, the Yankee ladies made " a note 
 on't " diligently enough to have delighted the soul of Cap'en 
 Ed'ard Cuttle, and Siegfried- Wagner was moved to descend 
 the steps, throw himself on the orator's. neck, and kiss his 
 cheek with effusion. . After this we all threw ourselves on 
 the ice-creams. 
 
A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 151 
 
 But the "game," using the term without irreverence, 
 had only just begun. The big guns were yet to come into 
 action, and the biggest of all was the first to open fire. 
 Wagner, once more posing on the top of the steps, with 
 his body-guard around him, delivered a speech.. He 
 is no orator. His manner lacks grace, and his words do 
 not flow freely. Yet there is' something about him that 
 would dispose one to listen, even if his claim upon 
 attention were unknown. His words on this occasion 
 were not offensively marked, by the assumption of 
 superiority which necessarily belongs to a man who 
 pretends to reform where others think no reform 
 necessary. He even condescended to explain a previous 
 utterance, which, having been misinterpreted, had given 
 offence. "You have now an art," said Wagner to the 
 Germans in the theatre. The words naturally rankled 
 into wounds, and men began, sorely to cry out, "What, 
 had we no art before the Nibelungen ? " At the supper we 
 learned that Wagner really intended to say, " You have 
 now a neiv art;" and the explanation, coming from such a 
 quarter, was no doubt a condescension to be prized. But 
 ■Wagner, gracious beyond himself, actually spoke of the 
 national opera of France and Italy without a sneer ; not 
 only so, he admitted that the forms of art in question were 
 suited to the genius of their respective nations. This was 
 not Siegfried in the Ercles vein — not Siegfried luring the 
 
152 A SUPPER WITH WAGNEB. 
 
 dragon from his hole that Nothung, " conquering sword," 
 might be fleshed — but rather Siegfried in the gentle 
 shepherd mood, making a pipe to imitate the little birds. 
 Wagner was all that evening in the gentle shepherd mood. 
 Corydon is sometimes crowned with a wreath woven by the 
 hands of Phillis, and even the wreath was not wanting to the 
 Corydon of our supper-table. Phillis, in the person of 
 Signora Lucca,- publisher of the master's Works for Italy, 
 took a wreath — appropriately made of artificial leaves — and 
 as Wagner passed deftly clapped it on his head. He wore 
 it. Let the fact go forth to all who fancy that the terrible 
 Eichard breathes nothing but fire and smoke, like Fafner 
 the "Worm." He, laughing, wore the Luccese wreath 
 during his promenade among the guests, and entered into 
 the fun of the incident with all the zest of a boy. It was 
 a happy moment for the master, and no doubt a happy 
 moment for Signora Lucca : — 
 
 " Quid dedicatum posoit Apollinem 
 vates ? quid orat de pater& novum 
 fundens liquorem ? " 
 
 But the crowning incident of the evening was the Wagner* 
 Liszt episode. Here let me speak in terms of studied 
 respect. To English eyes the sight of two elderly gentle- 
 men embracing and mingling their tears in public seems 
 odd, but not even Lord Palmerston's civis Romanus has 
 a right to expect the whole world to act upon his notion 
 
A SUPPER WITH WAGNER. 153 
 
 of what is fitting. The males of the Germanic race have 
 no objection to kiss each other, and on German ground 
 there was not the smallest reason why Liszt and Wagner, 
 after sounding each other's praises with ten-trumpet 
 power, should not fall on each other's bosom. At all 
 events they did it, and twice. First Wagner, from 
 the eminence of the steps, spoke of Liszt, who rose 
 and faced the orator. Embrace No. 1 followed. Next, 
 having given his son-in-law time to remount the steps, 
 Liszt spoke of Wagner ; after which came embrace No. 2, 
 the assembly meanwhile expressing the liveliest satis- 
 faction. Very funny to the British eye was all this, 
 but no possessor of the optic in question had a right to 
 utter his favourite ejaculation, "humbug!" The distin- 
 guished actors were doubtless perfectly sincere. During 
 long years, through evil and through good, they had 
 remained true to a common friendship, based on mutual 
 admiration and sympathy, and both had now reached the 
 goal of many hopes, the end of arduous labour, the 
 consummation of many wishes. The occasion was there- 
 fore one of extraordinary interest, and before all who 
 cared to look on they showed how deeply it touched them. 
 But such a high-strung condition of things could not last 
 long, and Wagner ended it by exclaiming, " Now let us 
 have no more serious business!" 
 Here the interest of my story ends, for the reader would 
 
154 A SUPPER WITH WAGNEE. 
 
 probably fail to appreciate the heavy forms of humour in 
 which merry-minded Germans indulge. Enough that the 
 festivity went on, and that the feasters — some of them — 
 might have been seen and heard at the principal BierhaUe 
 of the town — well, perhaps I had better not say how many 
 hours afterwards. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ......... 1 
 
 DEE RING- DES NIBELUNGEN ...... 23 
 
 DAS RHEINGOLD ....... 35 
 
 DIE WALKURE ........ 45 
 
 SIEGFRIED ........ 54 
 
 GOTTERDAMMERUNG ....... 67 
 
 CONCLUSIONS 80 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE CITY OP THE MASTERS 113 
 
 THE BIRTHPLACE OF MOZART ...... 123 
 
 THREE FAMOUS GRAVES ....... 133 
 
 A SUPPER WITH WAGNER ....... 145 
 
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