their ideas may be in accordance, can never think exactly alike. In the 'Tetralogy,' the subject selected, and carried on throughout the four grand divisions of the work, is founded upon certain Teutonic Myths, which it is scarcely possible for two great writers—a Word-Poet and a Tone-Poet—to contemplate from exactly the same point of view: the advantage, therefore, is immeasurable, when one mind, of great and varied attainments, can arrange the whole. Wagner inclines to the idea that Myths of this description furnish the best if not the only subjects on which the Musical Drama can be founded, though both 'Lohengrin' and 'Tristan und Isolde' are founded upon Keltic Legends. But, in this he would, perhaps, lay down no very strict law; for the Teutonic Myth could scarcely appeal very strongly to the imagination of an English audience, and, to a French one, the 'Nibelungenlied' would be utterly unintelligible.
The force of our remarks will be best understood by those who have enjoyed an opportunity of hearing Wagner's works performed in his own way; but a mere perusal of the Score will illustrate them with sufficient clearness to answer all practical purposes. In either case, the student cannot fail to be struck by the undoubted originality of the style: but, is the general conception a new one? Assuredly not. It is the fullest possible development of the Ideal which was proposed, in the year 1600, at the house of Giovanni Bardi, in Florence. Wagner looks back to Greek Tragedy as the highest available authority on the subject. So did Rinuccini. Wagner condemns rhythmic Melody as altogether opposed to dramatic truth. So did Peri. Wagner keeps his Instrumental Performers out of sight, in order that he may the better carry out the illusions of the Drama. So did Emilio del Cavaliere, and Peri after him. Wagner uses all the orchestral resources at his command, for the purpose of enforcing his dramatic meaning. So, in 1607, did Monteverde. The only difference is, that Monteverde had but a rude untutored band to work with, while Wagner has a magnificent Orchestra, fortified by the experience of two hundred and eighty years. It was not to be wondered at that Monteverde's style of Recitative grew wearisome, or that, when the power of introducing orchestral colouring was so very small, Alessandro Scarlatti endeavoured to increase the interest and beauty of his works by the introduction of measured Melody and well-constructed Movements. In process of time these well-intentioned improvements attracted too much attention, and weakened the true power of the Drama. Then Gluck arose, and resolutely reformed the abuse—but for the time only. No one can say that his principles have been fully carried out by Later Composers—that too many Operas of the present day, in more Schools than one, are not grievously lowered in tone by the pernicious habit of introducing irrelevant, if not positively flippant tunes, in situations where they are altogether out of place. Against these abuses Wagner has waged implacable war; and, in so doing, he has merited the thanks of all who have the true interests of the Lyric Drama at heart: for the evils which he has made it the business of his life to eradicate are no light ones, and he has entered upon his task with no faltering hand. Only, while giving him all due honour for what he has done, let us not wrong either himself or his cause by pretending to give him more than his due. He has called our attention, not, as some will have it, to a new creation, but to a necessary reform. He has nothing to tell us that Gluck has not already said; and Gluck said nothing that had not already been said by Peri. The reformation, so far as Recitative, Declamation, and Melody are concerned, is nothing more than a return to the first principles laid down at the Conte di Vernio's réunions. It brings us therefore not one step in advance of the position that was reached little less than three centuries ago.
These, however, are not the only points concerning which it is necessary to call the reader's attention to the strange analogy existing between the new School of the 19th century and that which flourished in the I7th. The disciples of Peri and Caccini cast aside, as mere vexatious hindrances, the restrictions imposed upon them by the laws of Counterpoint. Modern Composers have done the same; and striving, like Monteverde, to invent harmonic combinations hitherto unheard, have justified their innovations by the not very easily controvertible dictum, 'That which sounds well must, of necessity, be right.' Admitting the force of this argument, must not its converse—'That which does not sound well must, of necessity, be wrong'—be equally true? It seems difficult to dispute this; yet our ears are sometimes very sorely tried. Can any one, for instance, really take pleasure in the hideously 'outof-tune' effect of the following 'False-relation' from the Third Act of 'Der fliegende Holländer'?
The great danger attendant upon such aberrations as these, is that the progression used by the Master, in a few isolated instances, for reasons of his own, is too often mistaken by the disciple for a 'characteristic of the style,' and introduced everywhere, usque ad nauseam. Should the disciples of the School we are considering fall into this pernicious, though almost universally prevalent error, its results cannot fail to exercise a most disastrous effect upon the future prospects of the Drama. We have already said that the value of a work of Art depends entirely upon the amount of Natural Truth it embodies, whether that Truth be exhibited in the perfection of symmetrical form, as in 'Il Don Giovanni' or 'Le Nozze di Figaro,' in power of emotional expression, as in 'La Sonnambula,' 'Norma,' or
