ecution, remains unequalled in
the whole series of his writings. It fitly gathers together the many
threads of that vast fabric, 'Der Ring des Nibelungen.' Saint Saens says
of it that 'from the elevation of the last act of "Goetterdaemmerung," the
whole work appears, in its almost supernatural grandeur, like the chain
of the Alps seen from the summit of Mont Blanc.'

The literature of 'Der Ring des Nibelungen' is already very large, and
not a year passes without some addition to the long catalogue of works
dealing with Wagner's mighty drama. Readers desirous of studying the
tetralogy more closely, whether from its literary, ethical, or musical
side, must refer to one or more of the many handbooks devoted to its
elucidation for criticism on a more elaborate scale than is possible
within the narrow limits of such a work as the present.

It has already been related how Wagner broke off, when midway through
'Der Ring des Nibelungen,' and devoted himself to the composition of a
work of more conventional dimensions. The latter was 'Tristan und
Isolde.' Produced as it was in 1865, four years before 'Das Rheingold,'
it was the first of Wagner's later works actually to see the light.
Round its devoted head, therefore, the war of controversy raged more
fiercely than in the case of any of Wagner's subsequent works. Those
days are long past, and 'Tristan' is now universally accepted as a work
of supreme musical loveliness, although the lack of exciting incident in
the story must always prevent the _profanum vulgus_ from sharing the
musician's rapture over the deathless beauties of the score.

Isolde, the daughter of the King of Ireland, is sought in marriage by
Marke, the King of Cornwall, and Tristan, his nephew, has been sent to
bring the princess to England. Before the beginning of the drama Tristan
had slain Morold, Isolde's lover, and sent his head to Ireland in place
of the tribute due from Cornwall. He himself had been wounded in the
fight, and when washed by the tide upon the shores of Ireland, had been
tended by Isolde. To conceal his identity he assumed the name of
Tantris, but Isolde had recognised him by a notch in his sword, which
corresponded with a splinter which she had found imbedded in Morold's
head. Finding the murderer of her lover in her power, her first impulse
had been to slay him, but as she lifted the sword she found that love
had conquered hate, and she let Tristan depart unscathed. When he
returned as t