"With Wagner the second movement is the good one," said a French violinist, who had left everything to enroll himself in the orchestra at Bayreuth,--an artist of great merit, a man of spirit who was one of those preferred by the master. In spite of his occasionally rough manner, Wagner is, when he so chooses, a perfect charmer. There is nothing to be compared with the fascination which he exercises upon the interpreters working under his orders. After a few days the most hostile and rebellious orchestra becomes attached to him. It is the same with the singers, whom he inspires with unbounded devotion. The illustrious Schnorr, the first singer of Tristan, in which part he was sublime, cried, as he drew his last breath, "It is not I then who will sing Siegfried." He regretted nothing in this life but the glory of interpreting Wagner's works. One of the most remarkable things about Wagner is the youthful gayety which so frequently breaks out, and the charming good humor which his tormented life has never been able to quench. His entertaining and profound conversation will become all at once, without transition, full of humor and imagination. He tells stories in the most comical manner, with a fine irony which belongs to him alone. At Lucerne he surprised me by his skill in bodily exercises, and by his singular agility. He climbed the highest trees in his garden, to the terror of his wife, who besought me not to look at him, because, she said, if he were encouraged he would commit no end of follies. He was then working very regularly, rising early in the morning. At midday he was free, took long walks, or rested while reading, for he has an insatiable thirst for literature, and is an indefatigable student. In these hours of rest and meditation he has moments of beautiful serenity. His features then assume an incomparable sweetness, his face becomes enveloped with a pallor which has nothing of ill-health, but seems to veil it with a slight cloud. At these moments nothing troubles or agitates him. One feels that he is in self-communion with his dreams, and one involuntarily thinks of a magnificent lake reflecting the heavens. I have never witnessed this peaceful reverie without emotion, without the deep desire that nothing may trouble or dissipate it. But little is needed to bring back agitation; the least breath suffices; happy if the tempest does not break forth. Unfortunately for himself Wagner will never know the feeling so wisely egotistical--polite indifference. Before my departure from Lucerne he wished to organize an excursion of several days to show us the country of William Tell. We were obliged to start at dawn, and the carriage was winding its way by the lake of Lucerne, or the Four Cantons, when the sun rose. I remember that a gleam of light fell upon the master's lips while he was talking to us. In speaking of Mendelssohn he said: "He is a great landscape-painter."