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anything more natural。  When you are singing at the top of your
voice; you don't want a heavy woman hanging round your neck。  When
you are killing a man and warbling about it at the same time; you
don't want him fooling around you defending himself。  You want him to
have a little reasonable patience; and to wait in his proper place
till you have finished; telling him; or rather telling the crowd; how
much you hate and despise him。

When the proper time comes; and if he is where you expect to find him
while thinking of your upper C; you will hit him lightly on the
shoulder with your sword; and then he can die to his own particular
tune。  If you have been severely wounded in battle; or in any other
sort of row; and have got to sing a long ballad before you finally
expire; you don't want to have to think how a man would really behave
who knew he had only got a few minutes to live and was feeling bad
about it。  The chances are that he would not want to sing at all。
The woman who really loved him would not encourage him to sing。  She
would want him to keep quiet while she moved herself about a bit; in
case there was anything that could be done for him。

If a mob is climbing the stairs thirsting for your blood; you do not
want to stand upright with your arms stretched out; a good eighteen
inches from the door; while you go over at some length the varied
incidents leading up to the annoyance。  If your desire were to act
naturally you would push against that door for all you were worth;
and yell for somebody to bring you a chest of drawers and a bedstead;
and things like that; to pile up against it。  If you were a king; and
were giving a party; you would not want your guests to fix you up at
the other end of the room and leave you there; with nobody to talk to
but your own wife; while they turned their backs upon you; and had a
long and complicated dance all to themselves。  You would want to be
in it; you would want to let them know that you were king。

In acting; all these little points have to be considered。  In opera;
everything is rightly sacrificed to musical necessity。  I have seen
the young; enthusiastic opera…singer who thought that he or she could
act and sing at the same time。  The experienced artist takes the
centre of the stage and husbands his resources。  Whether he is
supposed to be indignant because somebody has killed his mother; or
cheerful because he is going out to fight his country's foes; who are
only waiting until he has finished singing to attack the town; he
leaves it to the composer to make clear。

Also it was Herr Wagner's idea that the back cloth would leave the
opera…goer indifferent to the picture gallery。  The castle on the
rock; accessible only by balloon; in which every window lights up
simultaneously and instantaneously; one minute after sunset; while
the full moon is rushing up the sky at the pace of a champion comet
that wonderful sea that suddenly opens and swallows up the ship
those snow…clad mountains; over which the shadow of the hero passes
like a threatening cloudthe grand old chateau; trembling in the
windwhat need; will ask the opera…goer of the future; of your
Turners and your Corots; when; for prices ranging from a shilling
upwards; we can have a dozen pictures such as these rolled up and
down before us every evening?

But perhaps the most daring hope of all was the dream that came to
Herr Wagner that his opera singers; his grouped choruses; would
eventually satisfy the craving of the public for high class statuary。
I am not quite sure the general public does care for statuary。  I do
not know whether the idea has ever occurred to the Anarchist; but;
were I myself organising secret committee meetings for unholy
purposes; I should invite my comrades to meet in that section of the
local museum devoted to statuary。  I can conceive of no place where
we should be freer from prying eyes and listening ears。  A select
few; however; do appreciate statuary; and such; I am inclined to
think; will not be weaned from their passion by the contemplation of
the opera singer in his or her various quaint costumes。

And even if the tenor always satisfied our ideal of Apollo; and the
soprano were always as sylph…like as she is described in the
libretto; even then I should doubt the average operatic chorus being
regarded by the connoisseur as a cheap and pleasant substitute for a
bas relief from the Elgin marbles。  The great thing required of that
operatic chorus is experience。  The young and giddy…pated the chorus
master has no use for。  The sober; honest; industrious lady or
gentleman; with a knowledge of music is very properly his ideal。

What I admire about the chorus chiefly is its unity。  The whole
village dresses exactly alike。  In wicked; worldly villages there is
rivalry; leading to heartburn and jealously。  One lady comes out
suddenly; on; say; a Bank Holiday; in a fetching blue that conquers
every male heart。  Next holiday her rival cuts her out with a green
hat。  In the operatic village it must be that the girls gather
together beforehand to arrange this thing。  There is probably a
meeting called。

〃The dear Count's wedding;〃 announces the chairwoman; 〃you will all
be pleased to hear; has been fixed for the fourteenth; at eleven
o'clock in the morning。  The entire village will be assembled at ten…
thirty to await the return of the bridal cortege from the church; and
offer its felicitations。  Married ladies; will; of course; come
accompanied by their husbands。  Unmarried ladies must each bring a
male partner as near their own height as possible。  Fortunately; in
this village the number of males is exactly equal to that of females;
so that the picture need not be spoiled。  The children will organise
themselves into an independent body and will group themselves
picturesquely。  It has been thought advisable;〃 continues the
chairwoman; 〃that the village should meet the dear Count and his
bride at some spot not too far removed from the local alehouse。  The
costume to be worn by the ladies will consist of a short pink skirt
terminating at the knees and ornamented with festoons of flowers;
above will be worn a bolero in mauve silk without sleeves and cut
decollete。  The shoes should be of yellow satin over flesh…coloured
stockings。  Ladies who are 'out' will wear pearl necklaces; and a
simple device in emeralds to decorate the hair。  Thank God; we can
all of us afford it; and provided the weather holds up and nothing
unexpected happenshe is not what I call a lucky man; our Count; and
it is always as well to be prepared for possibilitieswell; I think
we may look forward to a really pleasant day。〃

It cannot be done; Herr Wagner; believe me。  You cannot substitute
the music drama for all the arts combined。  The object to be aimed at
by the wise composer should be to make us; while listening to his
music; forgetful of all remaining artistic considerations。



THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN!  NEED IT BE SO HEAVY?



It is a delightful stroll on a sunny summer morning from the Hague to
the Huis ten Bosch; the little 〃house in the wood;〃 built for
Princess Amalia; widow of Stadtholter Frederick Henry; under whom
Holland escaped finally from the bondage of her foes and entered into
the promised land of Liberty。  Leaving the quiet streets; the tree…
bordered canals; with their creeping barges; you pass through a
pleasant park; where the soft…eyed deer press round you; hurt and
indignant if you have brought nothing in your pocketnot even a
piece of sugarto offer them。  It is not that they are graspingit
is the want of attention that wounds them。

〃I thought he was a gentleman;〃 they seem to be saying to one
another; if you glance back; 〃he looked like a gentleman。〃

Their mild eyes haunt you; on the next occasion you do not forget。
The Park merges into the forest; you go by winding ways till you
reach the trim Dutch garden; moat…encircled; in the centre of which
stands the prim old…fashioned villa; which; to the simple Dutchman;
appears a palace。  The concierge; an old soldier; bows low to you and
introduces you to his wifea stately; white…haired dame; who talks
most languages a little; so far as relates to all things within and
appertaining to this tiny palace of the wood。  To things without;
beyond the wood; her powers of conversation do not extend:
apparently such matters do not interest her。

She conducts you to the Chinese Room; the sun streams through the
windows; illuminating the wondrous golden dragons standing out in
bold relief from the burnished lacquer work; decorating still further
with light and shade the delicate silk embroideries thin taper hands
have woven with infinite pains。  The walls are hung with rice paper;
depicting the conventional scenes of the conventional Chinese life。

You find your thoughts wandering。  These grotesque figures; these
caricatures of humanity!  A comical creature; surely; this Chinaman;
the pantaloon of civilization。  How useful he has been to us for our
farces; our comic operas!  This yellow baby; in his ample pinafore;
who lived thousands of years ago; who has now passed into this
strange second childhood。

But is he dyingor does the

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