We are making a beginning, and we must perforce begin ab ovo, doing everything that has been left undone, and undoing, at times, some things that have been, and are being, done. Let me say, at once, to avoid misapprehension, that I refer here to the majority of the Anglicised versions of foreign libretti. They are unsatisfactory, to put it very mildly, and, will have to be re-written again before, these operas can be sung with artistic decency in English. The classes of our great musical institutions will have to be reorganised entirely, from the curriculum of education to examinations. This is a crude statement of the case, the details can always be elaborated on the model of that fine nursery of artists, the Paris Conservatoire. We must not be deterred by the possible scarcity of native professors, able to impart the indispensable knowledge. Do not let us forget that the initial instructors of operatic art came from Italy to France, together with the introduction of their new art; but, far from monopolising tuition, they formed pupils of native elements, and these in turn became instructors, interpreters, or creators. The same thing will happen again, if necessary, let us by all means import ballet masters, professors of deportment, singing teachers, and whoever can teach us what we do not know, and cannot be taught by our own men. Pupils will be formed soon enough, and the foreign element gradually eliminated. Do not let us forget, either, that stalest of commonplaces that "Rome was not built in a day."

We are not trying to improvise genii, or make a complete art, by wishing for the thing, but we are laying foundations for a future architecture, every detail of which will be due to native enterprise, and the whole a national pride. To look for immediate results would be as idle as to expect Wagners, and Verdis, or Jean de Reszkes, and Terninas, turned out every year from our schools, simply because we have a subsidised opera house, and reorganised musical classes.

We are bound to arrive at results, and no one can say how great they may be, or how soon they may be arrived at. The unexpected so often happens. Not so many years ago, for example, operatic creative genius seemed extinct in the land of its birth, and the all-pervading wave of Wagnerism threatened the very existence of musical Italy, when, lo! there came the surprise of Cavalleria Rusticana, and the still greater surprise of the enthusiasm with which the work was received in Germany, and the no less astonishing rise of a new operatic school in Italy, and its triumphant progress throughout the musical world. Who can say what impulse native creative talent will receive in this country, when it is cared for as it certainly deserves?

The question arises now of the most practical manner in which this care can be exercised?

Plans have been put forward more than once,—discussed, and discarded. This means little. Any child can pick a plan to pieces, and prove its unworthiness. Goodwill means everything, and a firm conviction that in the performance of certain acts the community does its duty for reasons of public welfare. I put more trust in these than in the actual merit of my scheme, but, such as it is, I submit it for consideration, which, I hope, will be as seriously sincere, as the spirit in which it is courted.

I would suggest that the interests of the National Opera House in London, should be looked after by a Board under the supervision of the Education Department, the members of the Board being selected from among the County Councillors, the Department itself, and some musicians of acknowledged authority.

The enlisting of the interest of the Educational Department would sanction the theory of the educational mission of the venture; the County Council comes into the scheme, for financial and administrative purposes; the selection of musicians needs no explanation, but a proviso should be made that the gentlemen chosen, have no personal interest at stake.

As I said before, we have to begin at the beginning, and so the duties of the Board would be:—

1. The building of a National Opera House in London.

2. The drawing up of a schedule of stipulations on the lines of the French cahier des charges regulating the work of the theatre.