ection. By so much as genius is not an infinite capacity for pains,
by so much is Bruckner's Ninth not a true symphony. Sometimes, under the
glamor of his art, we are half persuaded that mere persistence may
transmute pedantry into poetry.

It seems almost as if the Wagnerians chose their champion in the
symphony with a kind of suppressed contempt for learning, associating
mere intellectuality with true mastery, pointing to an example of
greatest skill and least inspiration as if to say: "Here is your
symphonist if you must have one." And it is difficult to avoid a
suspicion that his very partisans were laughing up their sleeve at their
adopted champion.

We might say all these things, and perhaps we have gone too far in
suggesting them. After all we have no business with aught but the music
of Bruckner, whatever may have been his musical politics, his vanity,
his ill judgment, or even his deliberate partisanship against his
betters. But the ideas themselves are unsubstantial; on shadowy
foundation they give an illusion by modern touches of harmony and rhythm
that are not novel in themselves. The melodic idea is usually divided in
two, as by a clever juggler. There is really no one thought, but a
plenty of small ones to hide the greater absence.

We have merely to compare this artificial manner with the poetic reaches
of Brahms to understand the insolence of extreme Wagnerians and the
indignation of a Hanslick. As against the pedantry of Bruckner the style
of Strauss is almost welcome in its frank pursuit of effects which are
at least grateful in themselves. Strauss makes hardly a pretence at
having melodic ideas. They serve but as pawns or puppets for his
harmonic and orchestral _mise-en-scene_. He is like a play-wright
constructing his plot around a scenic design.

Just a little common sense is needed,--an unpremeditated attitude. Thus
the familiar grouping, "_Bach_, _Beethoven_ and _Brahms_" is at least
not unnatural. Think of the absurdity of "_Bach_, _Beethoven_ and
_Bruckner_"![A]

[Footnote A: A festival was held in Munich in the summer of 1911, in
celebration of "Bach, Beethoven and Bruckner."]

The truth is, the Bruckner cult is a striking symptom of a certain
decadence in German music; an incapacity to tell the sincere quality of
feeling in the dense, brilliant growth of technical virtuosity. In the
worship at the Bayreuth shrine, somehow reinforced by a modern national
self-importance, has been lost a