fight with the dragon, the march of the gods over the rainbow, the ride of the walkyries on their wild steeds, the burning Walhalla, etc., and have gradually discovered that their critics at Bayreuth again hoaxed them when they wrote that the music of the _Trilogy_ was "atomic," that it was devoid of melody, and that the harmony was in defiance of all the laws of euphony. These illustrations show the value of good scenery. Independently of its artistic value, it is a legitimate bait for enticing people to a place where they are obliged to hear good music. Good scenery, however, has never been the strong point of our opera troupes. They never had more than one strong point. Formerly, some of the great _prime donne_ used to pay us an occasional visit, but now even they have learned to avoid us, because we are no longer willing to pay five dollars for an evening's amusement. London, Paris and St. Petersburg are at present the head-quarters of the costly "stars." Nor is this fact to be regretted. The decline of the star system is rather to be greeted as the dawn of a better era. It has always been the curse of the opera and the greatest obstacle to improvement. There was a time when the prima donna was so omnipotent that even the composers were her slaves, being frequently obliged to alter passages to suit the taste of the stage goddess; and there are instances on record of whole operas having been composed in vain because she did not happen to be pleased with them, and refused to sing. This evil period we have happily out-grown, but an equally great nuisance remains. The exorbitant prices still demanded by the "stars" are out of all proportion to their deserts, and show that even if the composers are their slaves no longer, the spectators and managers still are so. In Paris and elsewhere it is often found impossible to do justice to the secondary stage appointments because the salaries of the soprano and the tenor swallow the whole income. The Germans, on the other hand, are too artistic and rational to endure such an imposition. To them the one-star-and-ten-satellites system seems an abomination, and doubtless Emperor William had the sympathies and approval of all his subjects when he refused to engage Patti at a price that would have proved disastrous to the high aims of the imperial opera, which are to preserve an evenly-balanced and uniform excellence of all the parts of a performance. There are signs that even England is outgrowing the star system. Carl Rosa has adopted the German system of dispensing with "phenomenal" singers, putting the minor rôles into good hands, and keeping a well-trained chorus and orchestra; and his success, as everybody knows, has been enormous. Now let some competent manager in this country follow his example: let him show that he does not merely aim at getting the people's money, but that he has also the ambition of honestly interpreting the works of the masters and developing a healthy