rance. Genuine
and profound art must always be consistent with itself, and what we
recognize as general truth. Even characters set in the comparatively
near hack-ground of history are too closely related to our own familiar
surroundings of thought and mood to be regarded as artistically natural
in the use of music as the organ of the every-day life of emotion and
sentiment. But with the dim and heroic shapes that haunt the border-land
of the supernatural, which we call legend, the case is far different.
This is the drama of the demigods, living in a different atmosphere from
our own, however akin to ours may be their passions and purposes. For
these we are no longer compelled to regard the medium of music as a
forced and untruthful expression, for do they not dwell in the magic
lands of the imagination? All sense of dramatic inconsistency instantly
vanishes, and the conditions of artistic illusion are perfect.

"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And clothes the mountains with their azure hue."

Thus all of Wagner's works, from "Der fliegende Hollander" to the "Ring
der Nibelungen," have been located in the world of myth, in obedience
to a profound art-principle. The opera of "Tristan and Iseult," first
performed in 1865, announced Wagner's absolute emancipation, both in
the construction of music and poetry, from the time-honored and
time-corrupted canons, and, aside from the last great work, it may be
received as the most perfect representation of his school.

The third main feature in the Wagner music is the wonderful use of the
orchestra as a factor in the solution of the art-problem. This is no
longer a mere accompaniment to the singer, but translates the passion
of the play into a grand symphony, running parallel and commingling with
the vocal music. Wagner, as a great master of orchestration, has had
few equals since Beethoven; and he uses his power with marked effect to
heighten the dramatic intensity of the action, and at the same time
to convey certain meanings which can only find vent in the vague and
indistinct forms of pure music. The romantic conception of the mediaeval
love, the shudderings and raptures of Christian revelation, have certain
phases that absolute music alone can express. The orchestra, then,
becomes as much an integral part of the music-drama, in its actual
current movement, as the chorus or the leading performers. Placed on the
stage, yet out of sight, its strains migh