into them. One of the inevitable
consequences is, that the composer's ideal can never be fully
attained.

But changes in performance from the printed text of a composition are
frequently the work of the composer himself. If really an artist, he
is rarely perfectly satisfied with his completed work. The difference
between his ideal and his materialization of it, is a source of
anguish for him. The journey made by a vision of art from the brain
that conceives it to the hand that imprisons it in marble, or depicts
it in colour, or pens it in words or music, is a long one. And much
grace or power, beauty or grandeur, is inevitably lost on the way.
This is the explanation of the disappointment of all true artists with
their creations. This is the origin of their endless strivings to
perfect their works; the first embodiment is not a perfect
interpretation of the artist's inspiration, and further reflection
has revealed to him an improvement. The process is endless.

_A man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what is Heaven for?_

If one wishes to surprise genius labouring to give birth to
perfection, one should consult the later editions of Victor Hugo's
works and note the countless emendations he made after their first
publication--here a more fitting word substituted, there a line
recast, elsewhere an entire verse added, or excised, or remodelled.

This work of incessant revision is not restricted to poets. Composers
of genius are also inveterate strivers after perfection, are
continually occupied in polishing and revising their music. And not
all the modifications they make, or sanction, are recorded in the
printed versions. For many are the outcome of after-thoughts, of ideas
suggested during the process of what I have called transmuting musical
hieroglyphics into sound. Such modifications, usually decided upon in
the course of a rehearsal--I am now considering particularly operatic
works--are frequently jotted down, a mere scanty memorandum, on the
singer's part or the conductor's score. But they are the work of the
composer, or have received his approval, and, although not noted in
the printed editions of his compositions, are transmitted orally from
conductor to conductor, singer to singer, master to pupil. And thus a
tradition is perpetuated.

But the question of changes goes even further.

Prior to the advent of Wagner, the singer was allowed great license
in operatic works. This license was prin