ht to Liszt, before the ink
was dry.

The "Lohengrin" manuscript was sent along in parts, and Liszt was the
first man to interpret it. On one such occasion we find Liszt writing:
"Your 'Walkure' has arrived--and gladly would I sing to you with a
thousand voices your 'Lohengrin Chorus'--a wonder, a wonder! Dearest
Richard, you are surely a divine man, and my highest joy is to follow
you in your flight and be one with you in spirit!"

On this occasion, when the "Lohengrin Chorus" first found voice, the
only auditor was the Princess von Wittgenstein, who added a postscript
to Liszt's letter, thus: "I wept bitter tears over the scene between
Siegmund and Sieglinde! This is beautiful--like heaven, like earth--like
eternity!" Was ever a woman so blest in privilege--to be the near, dear
friend of Franz Liszt and hear him play the music of Richard Wagner from
the manuscript, and then add her precious word of appreciation for the
work of the weary exile! The quotation given is only a sample of the
messages that Liszt was constantly sending to his exiled friend. And we
must understand that at this time Liszt had a world-wide reputation as
a composer himself, and was the foremost pianist of his time. And
Wagner--Wagner was only an obscure dreamer, with a penchant for erratic
music!

The "Lohengrin" was produced at Weimar under the leadership of Liszt,
but even his magic name could not make the people believe--the critics
had their way and wrote it down.

Yet Liszt lived to see the name of Wagner proclaimed as the greatest
contemporary name in music; and he was too great and good to allow
jealousy to enter his great soul. Yet he knew that as a composer his own
work was quite lost in the shadow of the reputation of his friend. At a
banquet given in Munich in Eighteen Hundred Eighty-one in honor of
Wagner, Liszt said, "I ask no remembrance for myself or my work beyond
this: Franz Liszt was the loved and loving friend of Wagner, and played
his scores with tear-filled eyes; and knew the Heaven-born quality of
the man when all the world seemed filled with doubt."

* * * * *

Among men of worth, no man of his time was more thoroughly hated,
detested and denounced than Richard Wagner. Before he became an anarch
of art, he was singled out for distinction by royalty and a price was
placed upon his head. He escaped, and for ten years lived in exile, his
sole offense being that he lifted up his voice for