ed in closer touch with the
musical world, he might have become one of the great composers of the
century. Melody he had in abundance, and his feeling for musical form is
strong, though only partially developed. He had little dramatic
instinct, and it is singular that he should be known principally as a
composer for the stage. His treatment of the orchestra is brilliant and
effective, but the national element in his music is the _signe
particulier_ of his style. He rarely used actual Russian folk-tunes, but
his music is coloured throughout by the plaintive melancholy of the
national type. A composer, whose music smells so strongly of the soil,
can scarcely expect to be appreciated abroad.

Dargomishky (1813-1869) and Serov (1818-1871) are unfamiliar names to
Englishmen. The former during his lifetime was content to follow in the
steps of Glinka, but his opera, 'The Marble Guest,' a treatment of the
story of Don Juan, which was produced after his death, broke entirely
fresh ground. This work is completely modern in thought and expression,
and may be regarded as the foundation of modern Russian opera. Serov was
an enthusiastic imitator of Wagner, and even his own countrymen admit
that his works have little musical value.

Rubinstein (1829-1895) wrote many works for the stage, and during the
last years of his life founded something like a new form of art in his
sacred operas, 'Moses' and 'Christus,' the latter of which was produced
after his death at Bremen. Critics differ very much as to Rubinstein's
merits as a composer, but as to the quality of his work for the stage
there can hardly be two opinions. His music is essentially undramatic.
None of his works, at any rate outside Russia, has achieved more than a
passing success. 'The Demon,' a strange story of the love of a demon for
a Russian princess, has some fine music in it, but the story is almost
totally devoid of incident, and the opera as a whole is intolerably
wearisome.

Of the younger school of Russian operatic composers it is almost
impossible to speak with any authority, since their works are rarely
performed in Western Europe. Tchaikovsky's 'Eugene Onegin' is
occasionally given in London, but has won little success. Much of the
music is interesting, but the disconnected character of the libretto and
the lack of incident fully account for the scanty favour with which it
is received. 'Le Flibustier,' an opera by Cesar Cui, was performed in
Paris a few years a