Here, there is no need of State aid. Why? Simply because they provide what the public want and are willing to pay for. In form, taste and atmosphere, they are the very antithesis of grand opera. Should any of them show the least signs of demanding intellectual effort for immediate appreciation, the modern manager cuts out the offending matter, without a moment's hesitation, or the least compunction. The immense popularity these entertainments command is, unquestionably, a tribute to the sound judgment of those who control them. It is an interesting fact that within quite recent years, there has been a marked tendency to bring continental successes to London, and the music they have contained has often called forth eulogistic notices from the critics, on the occasions of their first performances. A visit to the theatre a month or so later, would, I fear, generally reveal the fact that most of it, which had earned such high praise, had been eliminated. So accurate a judge of public taste as Mr. George Edwardes, is able to run three or four of such, or similar, pieces, simultaneously, in the West End of London, each of which must fill the house night after night for months together, before they show a profit, on so sumptuous a scale are they presented. Viewing such facts as these, it is difficult to see on what grounds, really logical, any demand for help from the State can be made on behalf of grand opera, which it would be difficult to prove that the general public, apart from the comparatively few enthusiasts, have any desire for, when it is so abundantly evident that they are ever eager to support any kind of recreation or relaxation that they _do_ want. The basis of the plea is, no doubt, musical education for the masses; and, while such a desire must attract the sympathy of every music lover, it must be granted that the ability to appreciate Wagner, Elgar or Strauss, is not a necessary part of a working man's attainments. It might be a very desirable thing, but we are very evidently at a more utilitarian stage, the present day being regarded in its true light. The illustration may appear, at first sight, to be somewhat strained, but I venture to think it is not, judging by notices one reads in the papers, in which Mendelssohn's violin concerto is written of as, "a hackneyed medium of expression"; Gounod's "Faust" as full of "sickly sentimentality," or Bizet's "Carmen" as a work of "essential vulgarity." There may be an element of truth in either of these criticisms, and judged in the light of the writers' probable high standard of [ae]sthetic tastes, they are justified, but they only emphasise the fact of the veritable abyss that separates the modern cultured musical critic from the musical "man in the street," in whose interest the proposition is put forward.