hrough it closely, as
in the case of _Tristan_. The methods are those of _Tristan_; we have
the themes used as _leit-motifs_, and also long passages woven out of
them and new matter; we have the harmonic freedom of _Tristan_, the same
gorgeous orchestration, and even more than the same marvellous
polyphonic writing. But, broadly speaking, the drama counts for
comparatively little, and the opera consists of a series of enchanting
songs and scenes. The very title tells us that we are not simply to
follow the destinies of a hero and heroine. The person mostly in
evidence is Hans Sachs, a sort of heavy father, who has some of the most
glorious music. The young lover comes along--Walther--and tries to win
Eva by gaining the prize in a contest of minstrels; Beckmesser, a
pedant, opposes him. Sachs supports him, and he wins. Every note of the
music can readily be understood. There are regular set numbers provided
for in the structure of the libretto, so as to come in naturally; there
is even a sextet--which I have often heard encored--and the opera winds
up with a chorus. It disproves Wagner's theory that in the Ninth
Symphony Beethoven had said the last word in pure music, and that
henceforth words would always be necessary; for here the text is often a
mere excuse for using the human voice, and little of the music would be
unintelligible without it.

BAYREUTH

The establishment of a festival theatre where, humanly speaking, ideal
performances of all the great operas could be given--this was long a
dream of Wagner's. He knew what could be done and how to do it; he knew
also that it was not done because managers, conductors, bandsmen and
singers had formed careless and slovenly habits, and were blinded by
prejudices and traditions surviving from the days of old Italian opera.
King Ludwig helped him as far as he could, the good burghers of Bayreuth
were ready to give him a site, societies were formed to rake in money;
and after apparently interminable preliminary difficulties had been
overcome, the business of building the house was begun. It stands high
on a hill, away from the centre of Bayreuth--a great structure of red
brick and timber, not an imposing piece of architecture by any means,
yet not unpleasing to the eye. Inside every seat is arranged so to
afford a perfect view of the stage, and the orchestra is in a pit, so as
to be unseen, although the singers, wherever they may be placed, can see
the conductor. The