the trick of certain things; but the
moment he begins to set up dogmas, it is the end of him.--As if it were
possible for one person to prescribe to another, of a totally different
temperament, how he ought to feel in certain passages, or be affected
by certain harmonies! If I, for example, choose to play the later
Beethoven sonatas as I would the Brahms Concerto in B flat, with a
thoroughly modern irony, what is it that hinders me from doing it, and
from satisfying myself, and kindred souls, who are honest enough to
admit their feelings? Tradition, nothing in the world but tradition;
tradition in the shape of the teacher steps in and says anathema: to
this we are not accustomed, ERGO, it cannot be good.--And it is just
the same with those composers who are also pedagogues. They know, none
better, that there are no hard and fast rules in their art; that it is
only convention, or the morbid car of some medieval monk, which has
banished, say, consecutive fifths from what is called g pure writing ';
that further, you need only to have the regulation number of years
behind you, to fling squeamishness to the winds. In other words, you
learn rules to unlearn them with infinite pains. But the pupil, in his
innocence, demands a rigid basis to go on--it is a human weakness,
this, the craving for rules--and his teachers pamper him. Instead of
saying: develop your own ear, rely on yourself, only what you teach
yourself is worth knowing--instead of this, they build up walls and
barriers to hedge him in, behind which, for their benefit, he must go
through the antics of a performing dog. But nemesis overtakes them;
they fall a victim to their own wiles, just as the liar finally
believes his own lies. Ultimately they find their chief delight in the
adroitness with which they themselves overcome imaginary obstacles."

His companions were silent. Avery Hill had a nine hours' working-day
behind her, and was tired; besides, she made a point of never replying
to Krafft's tirades. Once only, of late, had she said to him in
Maurice's presence: "You would reason the skin off one's bones, Heinz.
You are the most self-conscious person alive." Krafft had been much
annoyed at this remark, and had asked her to call him a Jew and be done
with it; but afterwards, he admitted to Maurice that she was right.

"And it's only the naive natures that count."

Maurice had found his way back to Krafft; for, in the days of
uncertainty that followed the pos