to those two airs absolutely different both from the one quoted above and from each other; Phoebe's song of passion and vengeance at the beginning of the fifth act, or (Act. III., Scene III.) the rapid account of Telaïre's prophetic vision, "His chariot suddenly recoiled before me," a page as warmly coloured as it is full of movement, making one think of certain passages in the Rheingold. Always the perfect chord. Truly it is with that that music strikes her strongest blows. But is it not the "common ground" which provides the greatest orators and poets with their most striking passages? What is paradoxical in the definition of "common ground" is that it is only within reach of exceptional abilities.
It is also to be noted that the observance of natural effects inspires in Rameau various methods of introducing airs. Sometimes he underlines their arrival by a touch of grandeur. Thus for "Sad preparations," Telaïre, left alone, can at last withdraw herself from the outside world, and give herself up to mournful meditation on her hero's death. A dignified modulation, the sudden appearance of a broad and very simple rhythm, a grave and pathetic prelude, mark this moment. Everyone knows the sublime song that follows, before whose beauty Diderot's anti-Rameau mania was subdued and the youthful Grétry's somewhat depreciatory envy was silenced. Everyone did I say? Well, I thought so! But let me repeat what one of our celebrated singers told me a short time ago. One day she had occasion to ask one of our equally celebrated conductors to accompany her on the piano in "Sad preparations." At the end, "That's a fine thing," exclaimed the worthy musician, "whose is it?" He knew his Beethoven and his
