arbitrarily chosen by the composer. It is conceivable that there may have
been other days!

The incredulous ones urge that Wagner would never have been drawn to the
Bluebeard myth as a foundation for a libretto; but for myself I regard its
selection as a probable reaction, violent, no doubt, from the composition
of Parsifal. In Parsifal the central themes and the unavoidable conclusion
are derived from outgrown beliefs that have long since ceased to influence
the heart of mankind. Parsifal is medieval, mystic, rapt, devout. Its
ideals are those of celibacy and asceticism, the products of an age whose
theories and practices as regards sex-relationships can have no echo in
modern civilization. What more natural than that Wagner should fling
himself, for mental and emotional relief, into a story throbbing with human
love and marriage? Neither would some calm domestic drama serve, some story
of the nursery or hearth-stone, dealing with the relations of one fond
husband and father, one doting mother and child. As a contrast to the
asceticism and celibacy of Parsifal we have in Bluebeard rampant and
tropical polygamy; fervent, untiring connubialism. The ardent and
susceptible Solomon might have been a more dignified hero, one would think;
but, although he could furnish wives enough to properly fill the stage, his
domestic life was not nearly as varied, as thrilling, and as upset as
Bluebeard's, whose story makes a well-nigh invincible appeal to manager,
artists, and subscribers alike; and, for that matter, is as likely to be
popular with box-holders as with the gallery-gods.

This master work enunciates the world law that Woman (symbolized by Fatima,
Seventh Wife, singing actress) is determined to marry once at any cost; and
that Man (symbolized by Bluebeard, baritone) is determined, if he marries
at all, to marry as thoroughly and as often as possible. It holds up to
scorn the marriage of ambition and convenience on the one hand, but on the