the German
cities the masses attended it chiefly to see the new and brilliant
scenic effects. They found the music stupid, devoid of melody and form,
and bristling with "algebraic" harmonies. But they went so often to see
the swan drawing the mysterious knight through the waters of the Rhine
that they finally learned that the opera is a rich storehouse of the
most exquisite melody, that a wonderful unity of forms pervades the
whole, and that the algebraic harmonies serve to express depths of
emotion hitherto unknown. In the same way the Vienna people have been
lately crowding the theatre to see the Rhine-daughters in their long
blue robes swimming about under the surface of the river, to see the
fight with the dragon, the march of the gods over the rainbow, the ride
of the walkyries on their wild steeds, the burning Walhalla, etc., and
have gradually discovered that their critics at Bayreuth again hoaxed
them when they wrote that the music of the _Trilogy_ was "atomic," that
it was devoid of melody, and that the harmony was in defiance of all the
laws of euphony.

These illustrations show the value of good scenery. Independently of its
artistic value, it is a legitimate bait for enticing people to a place
where they are obliged to hear good music. Good scenery, however, has
never been the strong point of our opera troupes. They never had more
than one strong point. Formerly, some of the great _prime donne_ used to
pay us an occasional visit, but now even they have learned to avoid us,
because we are no longer willing to pay five dollars for an evening's
amusement. London, Paris and St. Petersburg are at present the
head-quarters of the costly "stars." Nor is this fact to be regretted.
The decline of the star system is rather to be greeted as the dawn of a
better era. It has always been the curse of the opera and the greatest
obstacle to improvement. There was a time when the prima donna was so
omnipotent that even the composers were her slaves, being frequently
obliged to alter passages to suit the taste of the stage goddess; and
there are instances on record of whole operas having been composed in
vain because she did not happen to be pleased with them, and refused to
sing. This evil period we have happily out-grown, but an equally great
nuisance remains. The exorbitant prices still demanded by the "stars"
are out of all proportion to their deserts, and show that even if the
composers are their slaves no longer, the s