Form in art is the creation of the intellect; what goes into it is the outflow of the heart.  Thus Liszt created the Symphonic Poem, and Wagner completely revolutionized the musical stage by creating the Music-Drama.  Into the Symphonic Poem, into the Music-Drama, they put their hearts; but the creation of these forms was in each an intellectual tour de force.  The musician who thinks as well as feels is the one who advances his art.  In the historic struggle between Wagner and the classicists Liszt played a large part.  He was the first to produce “Lohengrin”—­was, as orchestral conductor, its subtle interpreter, and, thus, a pioneer of the new school; he was Wagner’s steadfast champion through life, and a beautiful friendship existed between “Richard” and “Franz.”

[Illustration:  Richard Wagner.  From the original lithograph of the Egusquiza portrait.]

Even now the reader can begin to realize the role Cosima has played in music.  That she is the daughter of Liszt is not in itself wonderful, but that she should have fulfilled the mission to which she was born is one of the most exquisite touches of fate.  Liszt was one of Wagner’s first champions and friends.  He came to the composer’s aid in the darkest years of his career—­during that long exile after Wagner had been obliged to flee from Germany because of his participation in the revolution of 1848.  It was, in fact, through Liszt that Wagner received the means to continue his flight from the Saxon authorities and cross the border to safety in Switzerland.

Nor did Liszt’s beneficence stop there.  From afar he continued to be Wagner’s good fairy.  To fully appreciate Liszt’s action at this time, one must keep in mind the position of the Saxon composer.  To-day his fame is world-wide; we can scarcely realize that there was a time when his genius was not recognized, but at that time he was not famous at all.  Those who had the slightest premonition of what the future would accord him were a mere handful of enthusiasts.  Such a thing as a Wagner cult was undreamed of.  He had produced three works for the stage.  “Rienzi” had been a brilliant success, “The Flying Dutchman” a mere succes d’estime, “Tannhaeuser” a comparative failure.  From a popular point of view he had not sustained the promise of his first work.  We know now that compared with his second and third works “Rienzi” is trash, and that rarely has a composer made such wonderful forward strides in his art as did Wagner with “The Flying Dutchman” and “Tannhaeuser.”  But that was not the opinion when they were produced.  The former, although it is now acknowledged to be an exquisitely poetic treatment of the weird legend, was voted sombre and dull, and “Tannhaeuser” was simply a puzzle.  After listening to “Tannhaeuser,” Schumann declared that Wagner was unmusical!  Unless a person is familiar with Wagner’s life, it is impossible to believe how bitter was the opposition to his theories and to his music.  Does it seem possible now that he had to struggle for twenty-five years before he could secure the production of his “Ring of the Nibelung”?  Yet such was the case.  Then, too, he was poor, and sometimes driven to such straits that he contemplated suicide.