Hungarian Servians at Russian schools, and possesses greater authority among the Sclaves of the Balkan Peninsula than the Princes of Servia and Montenegro.

It is true the rivalry among the different branches of the South Sclavic race is constantly appearing. The Croatians are beati possidentes; they enjoy an agreeable autonomic position, and are little inclined to expose it to uncertain chances. They desire the rayahs to be freed from the Turkish yoke, only under the condition that it should be an Austrian army that accomplishes their deliverance, for in that case alone would Agram become the metropolis of the enlarged territory, and the Croatians possess the hegemony; to the formation of a South Sclavic kingdom they are, with few exceptions,decidedly averse. Moreover, they are place-hunters, the title of Court Counsellor being the great desideratum of every Croatian; and therefore the great Austrian Empire is preferable in their eyes to the questionable Illyrian. The Grenzers are still faithful Austrians, but for six years they have been united to Hungary that they detest; they can therefore give no expression to their attachment to Austria, and the whole strength of their feelings is forced into the channel of their nationality. The fact that the Hungarian Government has allowed

the civil administration to remain in the hands of Lieutenant FieldMarshal Baron Mollinary, General Commandant at Agram, who was born on the frontier, and that the Archduke Albert, the Commanderin-Chief of the Austrian army, is idolized by all the Grenzers, has hitherto prevented a revolution, except, as already mentioned, of a company, in the district of the Ogulin regiment; but now the whole war fever is directed against Turkey, and the Grenzers form a strong contingent in the insurgent camp,

assist the fugitives in spite of their poverty, and help their fighting comrades across the frontier to arms, ammunition, and provisions. The Servians in the Banat do the same with even more zeal, and without their assistance and that of Dalmatia the insurrection would long ago have been suppressed. They desire the union of the South Sclaves, the Illyrian Empire, quand même it is under Russian not Austrian protection, and, wishing for war at any price, do their utmost to drive Servia and Montenegro into open hostilities.

Neither in numbers nor education and Parliamentary influence could the Sclavonians offer a balance to the Germans and Magyars if they did not find powerful allies in the army. Every army desires war, or at least its officers do; and the Austrian army desires it especially in order to repair the disasters of 1859 and 1866; added to which is the fact that the officers of the Austrian army count more Servians than any other nationality in their ranks. After the last revolution only a few sons of the Magyar nobility entered the army; the Germans, when commerce and industry began to revive, did not show the same zeal as in former times to embrace a military career; and the nobility of the German Empire, since 1848, no longer flock to the Austrian army as they once did. On the other hand, the Grenzers were bound to life-long military service: any among them who showed talent at school were sent to the Military Academy, and later were appointed officers. Almost half the Austrian Generals are Servians, and five out of the eight General-Commandants belong to that nation. The most important of these five are Lieutenant Field-Marshal Maroichich in Vienna, Mollinary at Agram, and, above all, Rodich at Zara, who for the last year has been constantly heard of abroad,

and is decidedly destined to play an important part in the history of Austria. Posterity,' as Byron said of Grillparzer, Austria's greattest poet, must learn to pronounce his name.'2 Rodich won his spurs under Ban Jellachich in the civil war against Hungary, and in 1866 commanded the fifth army corps near Custozza, and contributed greatly to the victory. In everything a Servian and Austrian at the same time, he longs for the moment when he can play the part of Jellachich, to conquer the Magyars and destroy constitutionalism in both halves of the Empire. As a preparation to it, the increase of the Austrian Sclaves is the first step, and thus General Rodich is the father and protector of the insurrection.

All the various and complicated opinions and influences here described exercise their pressure on

the Court and Foreign Office, and the wavering and contradictions of the latter are easily to be explained by its fear of offending any party. But the longer Russia carries on the 'peaceful war,' namely, supports the insurrection, the heavier is the injury which Austria sustains through the continuance of the war alarms, the destruction of markets for her manufactures, the support of the fugitives, and the expense of guarding her frontier, and the more imperative it becomes that Count Andrassy should unite entirely with one of the two active parties, either the Magyars and Germans or the South Sclaves and Servian Generals. In both cases a RussoAustrian war is probable; but the present state of things is almost worse than a war.

VIENNA: June 1876.

THE

I

THE approaching Musical Festival at Bayreuth, long looked forward to with intense interest in Germany, has lately, in this country, excited considerable curiosity and attention, though scarcely hitherto so much or so general as the occasion appears to warrant. But the time is at hand when all will have to rate more highly the importance, æsthetically speaking, of an art undertaking of such magnitude and so far unique in the annals of this century an importance, it seems to us, quite apart from, and independent of, the controversies and divergences of different schools of music. The enterprise, which, taken from any point of view, is sufficiently remarkable, can hardly fail to exercise a wide influence upon rising musicians. Whether that influence will be precisely what is intended or expected is another question. We are inclined to think it will not be less, though possibly diverse.

The

history of the progress of art is full of such illustrations of the old fable of the father who bequeathed a vineyard to his sons, bidding them dig in it diligently for a treasure they should find therein; upon which the sons, in their search for buried gold and silver, tilled the ground so effectually that, though they found no treasure, they were none the less enriched by the search, as the field, thanks to their unwonted labour, brought forth a double crop of grapes in the following year.

The gathering at Bayreuth must not be confounded in its character with our English country musical festivals, which are merely a transfer, so to speak, of London performances and performers to the provinces. If it were no more than this, it could

hardly be expected to raise more than a languid interest out of Germany. The gist of it lies in the fact that it is an enterprise for rendering possible the execution of musical works, which, from their ambitious nature, are practically excluded from the ordinary stage; works, that is, requiring long and careful preparation, frequent rehearsals, considerable outlay, and that cannot, as a pecuniary speculation, be warranted to yield a large profit to the manager. Should the Bayreuth Festival have successors, it might result in materially raising the art standard. Is it a small thing that composers of genius should have some opening to look forward to beyond the narrow, and by no means elevating, sphere to which the principles of theatrical economy compel them to shape their works? It seems but fair that the highly gifted among them should have the prospect of such occasional emancipation from the sway of custom, fashion, and the almighty dollar, despotic in art as in other managements, and which must act as an incalculable bar to excellence sometimes.

6

Bayreuth, the city which has lately woken up to find itself famous, is little known to the majority of English travellers. Though the environs, the mountain island' of the Fichtelgebirge, have charms for lovers of the picturesque, the town is hopelessly eclipsed in beauty and attractions by its neighbours, Würzburg, Bamberg, and Nürnberg. It has historical associations of interest, but perhaps its chief claim to notice is as the favourite residence of Jean Paul Richter. There was good fortune we think in the selection for the scene of so novel a Festival

of a spot offering few, if any, counter attractions.

It is not our intention here to discuss Wagner's music, still less his art theories. That he and his operas are a working power is an indisputable fact. No one who has studied the works of rising composers, and the latter ones of the older generation, can fail to perceive the extraordinary influence Wagner at present exercises over all. In Germany, England, not least in Italy, it is the same. Those who have no originality imitate him; those who have, are none the less caught by his spirit. They seem to follow his lead by an irresistible law, to their glory or perdition as may be. We would also put aside for the present the question of the merits of the poem Der Ring des Niebelungen,' and of the special fitness of myths for operatic subjects. Doubtless, in a world so intrinsically unnatural as the operatic, it is more symmetrical that the whole should be placed beyond the sphere of everyday life. On the other hand, can anything compensate for the absence in a drama of all human interest? Leaving this debatable land, we propose to lay before the reader a short sketch of the story of Der Ring des Niebelungen,' as arranged from the Eddas by Wagner, and of the dramatic treatment it has received at his hands. The task is no trivial one, the plot being exceedingly involved; but a general comprehension of it is, of course, necessary for all who would judge of the work as a whole.

The Trilogy is preceded by a Prologue, or introductory opera, 'Rheingold,' the performance of which will occupy the first evening of the series.

The personages in this drama are all supernatural. Thus we have, first, the host of the immortals, Wotan (Odin) the Sungod; Fricka, his wife; Freia, the

goddess of Love and Spring; Froh, her brother; Donner, better known to us as Thor; Loge (Loki), the Fire-god, but rather a doubtful character, a cynic, crafty and insidious, a dangerous enemy but a useful ally; and Erda, the Earth goddess, and mother of all wisdom.

Secondly, the giants, Fafner and Fasolt, incarnations of brute force, honesty, and stupidity. Thirdly, the dwarfs, or Niebelungen, Alberich their chief, and Mime his brother. Niebelheim is their subterranean abode, and these lovers of darkness are characterised by cunning, covetousness, and all that is mean and malignant.

Lastly, three Ondines, the daughters of the Rhine-Woglinde, Wellgunde, and Flosshilde.

After a short orchestral prelude of 'water music,' the curtain rises upon the first scene, which lies deep in the heart of old father Rhine. One by one the three nixies appear, gliding about, singing, and chasing each other among the rocks. They are interrupted in their sports by the dwarf Alberich, who slinks out of a cleft and makes love, after his manner, to the maidens. Each in turn treats him most despitefully, mocking him by pretending at first to lend a willing ear to his addresses, and then escaping out of his reach and laughing him to scorn.

Alberich takes his immediate revenge. He wrests from the rocks in their river the magic 'Rheingold,' a treasure given to the nymphs to guard; magic, because whosoever shall succeed in shaping a ring out of this gold will hold in that ring a charm that gives him the mastery over all things. It has hitherto been safe with the nymphs, for one condition is necessary in him who would steal it. The thief must utterly renounce love, and curse it. But Alberich, in his present mood, is ready to do this; and his burning rage and rancour vent themselves in the violent curse on love

which he pronounces. He then makes off with the gold, and the Rhine maidens are left lamenting. Wagner's powers in descriptive music are beyond question, and have seldom been more pleasingly displayed than in this scene. The flowing, undulating, accompaniments, the dreamy songs of the water nixies, are full of charm, and nothing seems wanting to make this opening extremely effective.

The scene now changes, and we are introduced to the gods slumbering on the mountain tops. Wotan and Fricka awake to find themselves in a terrible dilemma. Wotan has employed the giants, Fafner and Fasolt, to build him a magnificent palace, rashly pledging them the goddess Freia as a reward for their work. The palace is now complete; its pinnacles and battlements rise before us, shimmering in the distance, and the giants come forward without delay to claim their pledge. Wotan, who had trusted to his own ingenuity, or to that of his crafty counsellor, Loge, for find ing some means of shirking the fulfilment of the contract, is in despair. Freia's presence is indispensable to the life of the gods. She, and she alone, can grow in her garden the apples of youth, of which Wotan and his host must partake every morning. Without Freia the apples will fade and perish, and without her apples the gods grow old and feeble. The giants at last propose to give her up if Wotan will procure for them instead the priceless Rheingold, now held by Alberich, and that has conferred infinite wealth and might on its possessor. They give Wotan till evening to find the required ransom. Up to that time Freia remains in their hands as a pledge. Loge undertakes to conduct Wotan into Niebelheim, the dark abode of Alberich and the dwarfs. To this we are now introduced in Scene III. Alberich is a merciless tyrant, lead

ing his brother Mime, and his dwarf subjects generally, a wretched life, forcing them to slave unremittingly at heaping up treasures of gold and silver for him. The gods accost him, and he boasts to them of his ring and its miraculous power. He has, moreover, forced the luckless dwarfs to forge for him an equally marvellous helmet. It endows the wearer with the power of making himself invisible, or of changing his shape at will. This Loge pretends to doubt. So Alberich, to convince him, puts on his helmet, and transforms himself into a dragon first, and then, at Loge's particular request, he shrinks and appears as a toad. Wotan instantly puts his foot upon the reptile. Loge seizes the helmet, and Alberich reappears in his own shape, to find himself caught, bound, and ignominiously carried off by the gods.

In the fourth scene, Wotan and Loge, returning with their prisoner to their sorrowing fellows, find them already growing old and grey for want of Freia's golden apples. Alberich is forced to disgorge his ill-gotten gains, his treasures, his helmet, and, lastly, the ring. But when forced to yield up even this as the price of his liberty, he hurls a frightful curse after it, foretells that it will bring all manner of evil on its possessor, whoever he may be, poison his pleasures, and shorten his life. He then disappears, vowing revenge, and his hoard is heaped up before the giants as Freia's ransom. They will have the helmet, and demand the ring also. But Wotan, on whom Alberich's curse already begins to tell, and who is infected by the fatal greed the ring inspires, refuses to give it up. He persists in his refusal, saying he will sooner sacrifice Freia than part with the gold.

At this critical moment a mysterious apparition arises of a woman, with streaming black hair, and