us have frankness,
and if we have no feelings on a subject, let us remain silent
rather than echo that drone in the hive of modern thought,
the "_authority_ in art."

Every person with even the very smallest love and sympathy for
art possesses ideas which are valuable to that art. From the
tiniest seeds sometimes the greatest trees are grown. Why,
therefore, allow these tender germs of individualism to
be smothered by that flourishing, arrogant bay tree of
tradition--fashion, authority, convention, etc.

My reason for insisting on the importance of all lovers of
art being able to form their own opinions is obvious, when we
consider that our musical public is obliged to take everything
on trust. For instance, if we read on one page of some history
(every history of music has such a page) that Mozart's sonatas
are sublime, that they do not contain one note of mere filigree
work, and that they far transcend anything written for the
harpsichord or clavichord by Haydn or his contemporaries, we
echo the saying, and, if necessary, quote the "authorities." Now
if one had occasion to read over some of the clavichord music
of the period, possibly it might seem strange that Mozart's
sonatas did not impress with their magnificence. One might
even harbour a lurking doubt as to the value of the many
seemingly bare runs and unmeaning passages. Then one would
probably turn back to the authorities for an explanation and
find perhaps the following: "The inexpressible charm of Mozart's
music leads us to forget the marvellous learning bestowed upon
its construction. Later composers have sought to conceal the
constructional points of the sonata which Mozart never cared to
disguise, so that incautious students have sometimes failed to
discern in them the veritable 'pillars of the house,' and have
accused Mozart of poverty of style because he left them boldly
exposed to view, as a great architect delights to expose the
piers upon which the tower of his cathedral depends for its
support." (Rockstro, "History of Music," p. 269.) Now this
is all very fine, but it is nonsense, for Mozart's sonatas
are anything but cathedrals. It is time to cast aside this
shibboleth of printer's ink and paper and look the thing itself
straight in the face. It is a fact that Mozart's sonatas are
compositions entirely unworthy of the author of the "Magic
Flute," or of any composer with pretensions to anything beyond
mediocrity. They are written in a style of