refused to try. Liszt, more worldly-wise in his not in a position to rely on merit, but on grace. If friend's cause than in his own, urged him to choose a subject adapted to the taste of the Parisian public, and Wagner would fain have conquered the boards of the Grand Opera; for Paris, much as he abused it, had a kind of fascination for him, and he never was a patriot in the narrow sense of the word. But as to selecting a theme, not because he liked it, but because the Parisians might like it, that was out of the question. What he seems to have thought of, inter alia, was Jesus of Nazareth, not the Divine Redeemer and religious reformer, but a kind of idealised man taking upon himself all the ills of a heartless, passionless world, and by that means achieving the liberation of the world, somewhat after the manner of Parsifal, to whom many of the attributes, and perhaps a few of the melodies of the original Jesus were subsequently assigned. Just imagine wliat the boulevardiers and the members of the Jockey Club, who hooted and dog-whistled at Tannhauser because there was no ballet in the second act, would have said to the world-redeeming prophet of Judea! The naive unworldliness of genius has perhaps
never been more glaringly instanced than in this
idea of an operatic Jesus.
The ordinary ways of making money by writing for the stage were obviously closed to Wagner. But, his sage commentators remark, he might have given lessons, or conducted concerts, and earned a modest livelihood rather than beg of his friends. So no doubt he might, although I for one should not have liked to be amongst his pupils in harmony and counterpoint. But what, ye sage commentators, would in that case have become of the Ring of the Nihelungcn and Tristan ? — works written without the chance of success, and even without the liope of it. Wagner as a teacher at young ladies' schools, or as a time-beater at ordinary festivals and concerts — there would have been a sight for the gods indeed! The antique tragedy would have been turned into a modern farce scarcely perhaps less sad, but certainly less dignified than its prototype.
Fortunately, the master understood the true essence of dignity and independence better than this. His position in the matter is as simple and as simply expressed as possible. ' It is true,' he writes to Liszt, ' that to the present generation, and to publicity as it is, my works must appear a useless luxury. But how about the few who love these works ? Should not they be allowed to offer to the poor suffering creator — not a remuneration, but the bare possibility of continuing to create 't To the tradesmen I cannot apply, nor to the existing nobility — not to human princes, but to princely men. To work my best, my inmost salvation, I am we few in this villainous trading age are not gracious towards each other, how can we live in the name and for the honour of art?' In plain English this means that Wagner being unwilling to write music that would pay, the few people who appreciated his music were in duty bound to place him above the sordid cares of life, and no position could in its way have been more reasonable and more high-minded. The argument of course falls to the ground if Tristan unci Isolde, and Parsifal, and The Nibelungen are looked upon as mere sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. In that case Wagner no doubt becomes a charlatan trading upon the good-natured gullibility of his admirers. But this is an alternative which, writing for the Scottish Art Review), I may safely ignore.
Let us once more return to our soul's tragedy and consider what were the forces opposed to the hero; what bodily form they took, and what weapons they used in the struggle. Here it is necessary to proceed with fairness, and to give, in familiar phrase, the devil his due. With our actual know- ledge of Wagner's genius it is easy to preach against the ill-will which British Philistinism, as represented by the press and by the directors of the Philharmonic Society, opposed to the conductor of that Society in the year 1855, or to rail at Herr von Hiilsen, the manager of the Berlin Court Theatre, as a military despot and sleek, cold-blooded courtier. In a moment of enthusiasm the good Philharmonic people appointed an almost unknown stranger their conductor. Soon reaction set in, and they scarcely knew what to make of their bargain. They were told by the press that he played ducks and drakes with classical and Mendelssohnian traditions ; the orchestra stood aghast at his tempi a.iA his attempts at phrasing and dynamic nuances. Moreover, most of the players had before their eyes the fear of Costa, who hated Wagner because Wagner hated Italian Opera. 'They wanted to make him out a humbug,' a distinguished and intelligent member of Wagner's Philharmonic orchestra told me only a few days ago. I firmly believe that the poor directors actually took him for a humbug, and were only too glad when he shook the English dust from his shoes, and left this country never to return to it, as he and they thought at the time. Again Hiilsen, when he tardily and reluctantly put Tannhauser on the stage in Berlin, did not see why in the world he should take the conductor's baton from the hands of the distinguished Dorn and place it in those of Liszt. To his mind the Berlin Opera was the best of all possible operas, and tlie Berlin conductor, u fortiori, the best of all possible conductors. To set
