ompromise or parley--he would live
his life, expressing the divinity within, and if fate decreed it so, die
the death, misunderstood, reviled, and be forgotten.

And so he lived, working, praying, hoping, toiling, travailing--but with
days, now and then, when rifts broke the clouds and the sun shone
through, his Other Self giving approbation by saying, "Well done! the
work will live."

More than half a century had passed over his head, and the frost of
years had whitened his locks; his form was bowed from the many burdens
it had borne; the fine face furrowed with lines of care; his eyes grown
dim from weeping--when gradually the critics grew less severe.

Advocates were coming to the front, demanding that brutal hands should
no longer mangle this man: grudgingly pardon came for offenses never
committed, and he was permitted to return to his native land. Strong men
and women placed themselves on his side. They declared their faith, and
said his work was sublime; and they boldly stated the patent fact that
those who had done most to cry Wagner down, had themselves done nothing,
nor added an iota to the wealth or the harmony of the world. People
began to listen, to investigate, and they said, "Why, yes, the music of
Wagner has a distinct style--it has individuality."

Individuality is a departure from a complete type, and so is never
perfect, any more than man is perfect. But Wagner's music is honest and
genuine emotion set to sweet sounds, with words in keeping. It mirrors
the hopes, the disappointments, the aspirations and the love of a great
soul.

As men and women grew to cultivate the hospitable mind and receptive
heart, tears filled their eyes and as they listened they came to
understand. Honesty and genuineness in souls are too rare to flout--when
found men really uncover before them. The people saw at last that they
had been deceived by the savants, blinded by the dust of paid and
prejudiced critics, fooled by those who led the way for a consideration.
They flocked to see the great composer and listen to his matchless
music, and they gave the man and his work their approval. Such sums were
paid to him as he had only read of in books. Adulation, approbation and
crowning fame were his at last.

Then love came that way and gentle, trusting affection, and sweet,
spiritual comradeship, such as he had never known except in dreams--all
these were his. His fame increased, and lavish offers from across the
sea came,