the wind instruments
in Germany were wanting both in correctness and quality of sound has
passed. But the orchestra conductors have to be taken into account. In
our day these gentlemen are _virtuosi_. Their personalities are not
subservient to the music, but the music to them. It is the springboard
on which they perform and parade their all embracing personalities. They
add their own inventions to the author's meaning. Sometimes they draw
out the wind instruments so that the musicians have to cut a phrase at
the end to catch their breath; again they affect a mad and unrestrained
rapidity which allows time neither to play nor to hear the sounds. They
hurry or retard the movement for no reason besides their individual
caprice or because the author did not indicate them. They perpetrate
music of such a disorganized character that the musicians are utterly
bewildered, and hesitate in their entrances on account of their
inability to distinguish one measure from another.

The delightful _Purgatoire_ has become a deadly bore, and the enchanting
_Mephistopheles_ has been riddled as by a hailstorm. Familiarity with
such excesses made me particularly appreciative of the excellent
performance that Wolfrum, the musical director, obtained in the vast
_Christus_ concert.

Among the conductors was Richard Strauss who cannot be passed over
without a word. Certainly no one will hope to find moderation and
serenity in this artist or be surprised if he gives his temperament free
rein, and rides on to victory undisturbed by the ruins he leaves behind.
But he lacks neither intelligence nor elegance, and if he sometimes goes
too fast he never overemphasizes slowness. When he is conducting, we
need not fear the desert of Sahara where others sometimes lead us. Under
his direction _Tasso_ displayed all its wealth of resources and the
jewel-like _Mephisto-Walzer_ shone more brightly than ever before.

I can speak but briefly of the numerous soloists. We neither judge nor
compare such talents as those of Busoni, Friedheim, and Risler. We are
satisfied with admiring them. However, if a prize must be awarded, I
should give it to Risler for his masterly interpretation of the great
_Sonata in B minor_. He made the most of it in every way, in all its
power and in all its delicacy. When it is given in this way, it is one
of the finest sonatas imaginable. But such a performance is rare, for it
is beyond the average artist. The strength of an athlete,