otic enthusiasm of 1870 sprang from the same source and it has
brought us the "empire" as that of 1876 gave us the "art."
The general rehearsal on the seventh of August was attended by the
King. He had stopped at a sub-station, once the favorite resort of
Jean Paul, and at the station-master's house the two great and
constant friends silently embraced, giving vent to their feelings in
tears. From that date to the thirteenth of August, 1876, the ever
memorable day of the re-creation of German art, came the hosts of
friends and patrons, from great princes to the humble German
musicians. "Baireuth is Germany" is the acclamation of an Englishman
on witnessing the spectacle. The head of the realm, Emperor William,
was there himself welcomed by the festival-giver and hailed with
acclamation by the thousands from far and near. The Grand-duke
Constantine and the Emperor of Brazil were likewise present.
Of the effect we shall at this time say nothing for lack of space to
tell all; but, to convey at least a conception of the event which
riveted minds and held hearts spell-bound until the last note had
passed away, while at the same time a whole new world dawned upon our
souls--we present a short account of the work as pithily drawn by
Wagner's gifted friend and patron, Prof. Nietzsche, in Basle.
"In the Ring of the Nibelungen," he says, "the tragic hero is a god
(Wotan), who covets power and who, by following every path to obtain
it, binds himself with contracts, loses his liberty and is at last
engulfed in the curse which rests upon power. He becomes conscious of
his loss of liberty, because he no longer has the means to gain
possession of the golden ring, the essence or symbol of all earthly
power, and at the same time of greatest danger for himself as long as
it remains in the hands of his enemies. The fear of the end and the
'twilight' of all the gods comes over him and likewise despair, as he
realizes that he can not strive against this end, but must quietly see
it approach. He stands in need of the free, fearless man, who without
his advice and aid, even battling against divine order, from within
himself accomplishes the deed which is denied to the gods. He does not
discover him, and just as a new hope awakens he must yield to the
destiny that binds him. Through his hand the dearest must be
destroyed, the purest sympathy punished with his distress.
"Then at last he loathes the power that enslaves and brings forth
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