places, to raise funds. Ludwig had done much, and
dared go no further. A huge subscription was arranged, and a large
amount of money had been collected, when help came from somewhere,
whereupon the subscriptions were returned. The detractors and
slanderers who had shouted that all the money asked for in the name of
Bayreuth was really destined to pay for Wagner's and King Ludwig's own
private amusements received, if a vulgar phrase is allowable, a
violent blow in their noisy mouths. Wagner paid no further heed to
them, but went on working out his plans. The old dream referred to in
his letters to Uhlig had been realised; he had his ideal theatre, he
had given ideal performances, and he reckoned he had given the Germans
an art. And now let us see what that art was.

CHAPTER XIV

'THE NIBELUNG'S RING' AND 'THE RHINEGOLD'

I

In the case of few artists is there an account of the creation of
their works worth serious consideration. In the colloquial as well as
the true sense of the word they are apt to be imaginative, and such a
story as Edgar Allen Poe's of the composition of the _Raven_ is not so
much imaginative as imaginary. The creative artist is usually the last
man in the world to give a veracious history of the genesis of his
creations, for the simple reason that he does not know, and, during
the later process of trying to find out, for his own private
satisfaction, he is given to invent theories--or, let us say,
hypotheses--which eventually he may come to believe pure fact. In
music the act of creation is often done in a hypnotic state. Goethe
mentions that his earlier songs were written in a state of
clairvoyance. Many much more recent poets seem to have achieved their
hugest popular successes whilst in a comatose state. Some, who also
managed to secure a success with the public, apparently conceived and
executed their mighty works in a state of hallucination--having
somehow got the idea into their heads that they were poets. Handel,
Mozart and Beethoven are three musicians who are known--if history may
be at all believed--to have composed in a hypnotic state: Handel would
sit for hours, unconscious of what went on around him; Mozart could
not be trusted with a knife at dinner--when he had a dinner; Beethoven
would pour cold water over his hands until the tenants beneath raised
violent objections. No such tales are related of Bach, of Haydn, of
Gluck, of Weber, nor of Wagner. If ever a man knew preci