attack his popularity. Feeling ran high, and in the course of the wrangle an insinuation was dropped that he favoured his friends to the exclusion of other tried composers, and that he offended the ear of the public by producing music that could give no satisfaction. It must not be forgotten that in Germany the taste of the upper and middle classes reigns supreme in theatrical matters, and that the aversion towards revolutionary political tendencies severely handicapped the works of democrats such as Wagner, Berlioz, and Cornelius.

Liszt, ever proud and sensitive, would not give in; he saw with regret that his position in Weimar had become greatly compromised. The performance of the Ring der Nibelungen, which at that early stage he had contemplated giving to the world, could not, after this altercation, be attempted with prospect of success. Weary and dejected, unable to prevail against mediocrity, and resenting the ingratitude of many whom he had faithfully served, he resigned his post.

Although twenty-six years were yet to pass before the termination of his life, the public career of Liszt was terminated when he quitted the little German town. Indeed, his days as a paid virtuoso had come to a conclusion long

before. At Pesth, in 1847, was the last time that he faced the public for his own benefit; after that he certainly was heard often, but no money passed into his pocket. As frequently stated, he was always ready to advance objects of charity, or to help forward deserving musicians. In both cases his services were strictly gratuitous.

But though he never again resumed his official capacity at Weimar, and probably intended to give the ungrateful city a wide berth, he found soon that the many years passed there and connections formed could not be severed. After a sojourn of several years at Rome he was again attracted to the quiet town on the Ilm which had seen his happiest days— where, among other sympathetic ties, he had left that most cherished of all treasures, the devoted friendship of a woman; and since then he carried on what he called his trifurqué existence, dividing his presence between Weimar, Rome, and Buda-Pesth. The latter town appealed to his patriotism, and Liszt, ever a bad refuser, rather submitted to a deal of personal inconvenience than disappoint hopes that he could fulfil. But, while he was carrying on his life as a private individual, his position as arbiter of the musical world stood higher than ever. To

pass minutes in the presence of the gifted man, to listen to the pearls which oozed from his rare intellectual equipment, to undergo the influence of his refined presence, became a boon coveted alike by high and low. Life had, on the whole, acted kindly by him; with one passing exception there had always been friends and money in plenty to satisfy his somewhat luxurious tastes. He was one of Nature's favourites, and not the least boon she had vouchsafed him was the art to inspire friendship in the heart of noble-minded women. Little is known of the Princess Wittgenstein, who ministered to his comforts in his old days; but from fragments of letters that have transpired she must have been endowed with rare qualities both of heart and brain. To possess a friend of that kind is only given to few. While admiring the genius of Liszt, we cannot help contrasting his lot with that of so many great musicians, whose fortunes have been cast in darker lines, and to whom death must have come as a release.

The period which led to the conferring of ecclesiastical rank on the henceforth Abbé has been termed by himself his years of recueillement. Throughout his life we have followed the earnest bent of his religious convictions,

which were never obscured by worldly surroundings. And, strange to say, the old ideas which had once led him to condemn music other than sacred came back to him in a purified form. At a later stage we will offer some remarks on this last musical period of his life, which, without condemning worldly music, yet gave it—in his own efforts at composition-an inferior place. Though his efforts as papal director of music were not successful, they afforded him theno doubt-great satisfaction to join in part the sacerdotal order, which had always had strong attractions for him. And, as if all his life had combined to deck him out with the most signal personal advantages, it was remarked on all hands that the priestly soutane spiritualised his matured features, and invested them with a rare and dignified distinction. This may have had more to do than is imagined with the vociferous applause of the London crowd, and the involuntary enthusiasm of the—probably Protestant-cabman, with his well-meant but misplaced aspirates.

The story of Liszt's death is yet fresh. A slight cold, neglected at first, encroached on his system. Still, he would not disappoint friends whom he had promised to visit. Crossing from London to Paris, the enthusiastic

reception accorded him by the home of his youth may have aggravated a slight indisposition. His last appearance upon a concert platform was at Luxembourg; in company with his friends the Munkacsys he had attended a concert of the Musical Society, and elicited the unstinted gratitude of the audience by giving them a solo of his own composition. He travelled thence to Bayreuth to attend the wedding of his granddaughter, Daniela von Bülow. On the 23rd he forgets his pain listening to a splendid performance of Parsifal. The doctors are getting more anxious now, and forbid him to leave the house; but the passionate lover of music cannot remain in his room in Bayreuth while his dead friend's works are being performed. A memorable performance of Tristan, in which Sucher and Vogl surpassed themselves, brought tears to the eyes of the old master, whose last appearance had thus been fitly connected with the music he had done so much to perpetuate. Faint and ill, he had to be carried to and from Madame Wagner's box. He was not to leave his bed again alive. His weakness, rather than a severe cold and inflammation of the lungs, rendered his return to health improbable. On the 31st July 1886, seventy-five years of age, Franz Liszt expired