f so many of his melodies, it is hard to resist the
temptation to cancel all the criticism I have written and to follow
Sir George Grove in placing Schubert close to Beethoven.

WEBER AND WAGNER

There are critics, I suppose, prepared to insist that Weber, like
Mozart, is a little _passe_ now. And it is true that no composer, save
Mozart, is at once so widely accepted and so seldom heard; for even
Bach is more frequently played and less generally praised. At rare
intervals Richter, Levi, or Mottl play his overtures; the pieces for
piano and orchestra are occasionally dragged out to display the
prowess of a Paderewski or a Sauer; and one or another of the piano
sonatas sometimes finds its way into a Popular Concert programme. But
the pieces thus made familiar to the public may be counted on one's
ten fingers; and the operas are scarcely sung at all, though they
contain the finest music that Weber wrote. The composers who have
lived since Weber, even if they differed on every other subject and
did not agree as to the value of his instrumental music, united to
sing a common song in praise of the operas. Indeed, so enthusiastic
were they, that after listening to them anyone who does not know his
Weber well may easily experience a certain disappointment on looking
carefully for the first time at the scores of "Der Freischuetz,"
"Oberon," and "Euryanthe"; and it is perhaps because they have
experienced that disappointment, that some critics whose opinions are
worth considering have come to think that a faith in Weber is nothing
more than a part of the creed learned by every honest Wagnerite at the
Master's knee. But it need be nothing so foolish, so baseless If you
look, and look rightly, for the right thing in Weber's music,
disappointment is impossible; though I admit that the man who
professes to find there the great qualities he finds in Mozart,
Beethoven, or any of the giants, must be in a very sad case. Grandeur,
pure beauty, and high expressiveness are alike wanting. You look as
vainly for such touches as the divine last dozen bars "Or sai chi
l'onore" in "Don Giovanni," or the deep emotion of the sobbing bass at
"the first fruits of them that sleep" in "I know that my Redeemer
liveth," as for the stately splendour of "Come and thank Him" in the
"Christmas Oratorio," or the passion of "Tristan." His music never
develops in step with the movement of the drama he treats: if he
writes a tragic scene, he is apt t