prejudice;' and that he is to accomplish his mission by speaking 'to the nations from the hallowed boards of a truly popular stage' in words accompanied by the 'inspiring strains of the divinest of arts, music' (Hueffer, p. 13). The Poet-Musician, then, is a Teacher; and what has he taught us? A cycle of old Teutonic legends, including the loves of Siegmund and Sieglinda, in a jingling, alliterative verse, accompanied by declamatory music almost entirely without melody, and spun out to insufferable length.

During the course of his profound studies Herr Wagner does not seem to have stumbled across the works of Shelley. Had he done so he might have found how what is otherwise perhaps the greatest tragedy of modern times, 'The Cenci,' has been rendered scarcely fit to read, and wholly unfit to play, by the unnatural horror of the plot. But the marriage of near relations was the custom in primitive times, say

the Wagnerians. True, no doubt; but that does not make their customs fit subjects for the representations of Art. If Herr Wagner had to put ancient Britons on the stage, would he introduce them naked, with their bodies painted blue? If it was absolutely necessary to his plan to introduce Siegmund and Sieglinda, he was at least bound to do what he has been at no pains whatever to do-to express or imply some censure of their conduct. The poet's monument more lasting than brass must fall to the ground like common brick or clay,' says Hume, 'were men to make no allowance for the continual revolutions of manners and customs, and would admit of nothing but what was suitable to the prevailing fashion. Must we throw aside the pictures of our ancestors, because of the ruffs and fardingales? But where the ideas of morality and decency alter from one age to another, and where vicious manners are described, without being marked with the

proper characters of blame and disapprobation, this must be allowed to disfigure the poem, and to be a real deformity.'

The Word-Poet was not happier in his system of versification than in his treatment of the loves of his Gods. Modern verse could offer him but little assistance, and it was only natural that even for the rhythmical structure of his melos, he should look to its poetical foundation' (Hueffer, p. 77). There would be as much justification for saying that modern apparel could offer him but little assistance, and it was only natural that for the raiment of his Gods he should look back to the primitive figleaf. Alliteration is popularly used to express the repetition of the same sounds in a verse, as, for instance :

'An Austrian army, awfully arrayed,
Boldly by battery besieged Belgrade.
Cossacks, commanders cannonading come,
Dealing destruction's devastating doom.'

Strictly speaking, however, alliteration is a certain form of versification which sprang up in the Dark Ages, in which the repetition of certain consonants is combined with a peculiar accent and pause. The following lines from 'Piers Ploughman' give an example of this form of verse :

'But in a May morning

On Malvern hills,

Me befel a ferly
Of fairy methought;

I was wear of wandering

And went me to rest,

Under a broad bank
By a burnside.'

Such is the form of versification, somewhat modified, that Herr Wagner has adopted for his latest works. The alliterative system was doubtless a necessary link in the long chain of metrical development. But are we to give up the last link for one long gone by? Are we to change our houses for hovels, our rifles for bows, our ironclads for triremes? Are we to

wear togas, and write upon palm-leaves? If alliteration is a necessary clause in Herr Wagner's creed, the longed-for Messiah' may find us a stiff-necked generation. We have tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and we cannot go back. We refuse to accept the rough, rude versification of 'Piers Ploughman' for such versification as this:

'Three days the flowers of the garden fair
Like stars when the Moon is awakened were,
Or the waves of Baia ere luminous

She floats up through the smoke of Vesuvius.

'And on the fourth the Sensitive Plant
Felt the sound of the funeral chant;

And the steps of the bearers, heavy and slow;
And the sobs of the mourners, deep and low.'

Herr Wagner should have confined himself to his music, for even the greatest artists have failed outside their own Art. Raffaelle and Michael Angelo both tried their hands at Architecture. The works of the one were characterised by feeble elegance; the other