angel for what he saith;
Here stand I, faithful, yea, till death!'

As Senta sinks beneath the waves the phantom vessel vanishes
also, and as the storm abates and the rosy evening clouds
appear in the west the transfigured forms of Senta and the
Flying Dutchman hover for a moment over the wreck, and, rising
slowly, float upward and out of sight, embracing each other,
for her faithful love has indeed accomplished his salvation,
and his spirit, may now be at rest.

[Illustration: TANNHAeUSER AND VENUS.]

TANNHAeUSER.

In 1829, when Wagner was only sixteen years of age, he first
became acquainted, through Hoffmann's novels, with the story of
the mastersingers of Nuernberg, and with the mediaeval legend of
Tannhaeuser, as versified by Ludwig Tieck. The 'mystical coquetry
and frivolous catholicism' of this modern poem repelled him,
and it was not until twelve years later, when he chanced upon
a popular version of the same story, that he was struck by its
dramatic possibilities. A chance mention of the Saengerkrieg of
the Wartburg in this version made him trace the legend as far
back as possible, and in doing so he came across an old poem
of Lohengrin, and read Eschenbach's 'Titurel' and 'Parzival,'
which were to serve as basis for two other great operas. The
sketch of the opera of 'Tannhaeuser' was completed in 1842, at
Teplitz, during an excursion in the Bohemian mountains; but the
whole score was not finished until three years later. Wagner
had gone over it all so carefully that it was printed without
much revision, and he had even written the piano score, which
was sent to Berlin in 1845 and appeared in the same year that
the opera was produced at Dresden.

Madame Schroeder-Devrient, whom Wagner had in his mind in writing
the part of Venus, sang that role, but, in spite of all her
talent, the first performance was not a success. She wrote
to Wagner concerning it, and said, 'You are a man of genius,
but you write such eccentric stuff it is hardly possible to sing
it.' The public in general, accustomed to light operas with happy
endings, was dismayed at the sad and tragical termination, and,
while some of the best musical authorities of the day applauded,
others criticised the work unsparingly. Schumann alone seems
to have realised the force of the author's new style, for he
wrote, 'On the whole, Wagner may become of great importance and
significance to the stage,'--a doubtful prediction which was
o