ocal part and the orchestral were begotten simultaneously in that
marvellous brain. In other chapters I will point to passages,
especially in the _Ring_, where quite obviously the voice part has
been laboriously worked in with instrumental music already conceived
in its final form; but that was in Wagner's later years, when the free
inspiration, enthusiasm and energy of his _Tristan_ and _Lohengrin_
and _Mastersingers_ days had for ever departed. There is an accent of
passionate grief in Lohengrin's words to Elsa, and of remorse in
Elsa's wailings; but the most touching thing in this final scene is
the song in which he hands her his sword, horn and ring, to be given
to her brother should he return. The note of regret, especially in the
poignant "leb' wohl," reminds one irresistibly of Wotan's farewell to
Bruennhilda. The latter is broader, richer, vaster,--and yet the tender
simplicity of this is inexpressibly touching. After that the opera
proceeds to its conclusion in what one may call a normal manner: there
is nothing, anyhow, in the music that requires analysis.

VI

_Lohengrin_ cannot be called Wagner's greatest achievement, but it is
a "fine," if not a "first careless rapture" whose freshness he never
quite recaptured. Yet, in a way, it is the most mannered of his works.
I know of no opera where one phrase, one harmony or set of harmonies,
or one violin figure is made to serve so many and such widely
different purposes; and not since the early seventeen hundreds had the
perfect cadence been so hard worked. Only two numbers are in other
than four-four time--the prayer and the wedding song. The melodies on
page upon page consist of regular four-bar lengths, commonly
terminating in a full close. We can admit all this--indeed, we must
admit it all--and then we are only bound the more to admire the vast
amount of variety Wagner got in spite of all the obstacles self-placed
in his way. His fondness for the diminished seventh, constantly
exploited throughout, was perhaps a fondness for his own adopted
child--for no one had ever properly employed it before: to him and to
every one at the time his use of it was new. Many points in his
prolonged passages which are simply arpeggios of the chord of the
diminished seventh must have seemed novel in the eighteen-forties,
though we hardly notice them now. The four-bar lengths send the
music along with a swing very different from the jerkiness of
contemporary opera music. The