The most distinctive feature of Russian art and literature is the power to reflect clearly, as in a glass, various phases of popular life. This has also been the aim of the Russian composers, with few exceptions. They cheerfully accepted the limitations imposed by the national vision, and have won appreciation abroad by the sheer force of genius manifested in their works. They resolutely sought the kingdom of the Ideal, and would have been greatly surprised to find such things as universal fame added to them. Borodin, for example, cherished no illusions as to winning the approval of Berlin or Paris for his work. _Prince Igor_, he said, with admirable philosophy, "is essentially an opera for the Russians. It would never bear transplantation." For many years, however, it could not even be said to be "a work for the Russians" in the fullest sense, because it was not offered to the right public. Works like _Prince Igor_ and _Boris Godounov_, which should have been mounted at a People's Palace in St. Petersburg, for the enjoyment of a large and really popular audience, were laid aside for many years awaiting the patriotic enterprise of rich men like Mamantov, who occasionally gave a series of Russian operas at their own expense, or the generous impulse of artists such as Melnikov and Shaliapin, who were willing to risk the production of a national masterpiece on their benefit nights. César Cui offers in most respects a complete contrast to the composer of _Prince Igor_. It is true that he shares with Borodin the lyrical, rather than the declamatory, tendency in operatic music, but whereas the latter is a follower of Glinka in his close adherence to the national style, we find in the music of César Cui a strong blend of foreign influences. As in Tchaikovsky's dramatic works we discern from first to last some traces of his earliest love in music--the Italian opera--so in Cui's compositions we never entirely lose sight of his French descent. Cui's position as a composer must strike us as paradoxical. The first disciple to join Balakirev, and always a staunch supporter of the new Russian school, we might naturally expect to find some strong, progressive, and national tendency in his music. We might suppose that he would assume the virtue of nationality even if he had it not. But this is not the case. The French element, combined, curiously enough, with Schumann's influence, is everywhere predominant. Nevertheless, Cui has been a distinct force in the evolution of modern Russian music, for to him is generally attributed the origin of that "second generation" of composers with whom inspiration ranks after the cult of form, and "the idea" becomes subordinate to elaborate treatment. This tendency is also represented by Glazounov in his early work, and still more strongly by Liadov and one or two composers for the pianoforte.