how
crude a form. A whole school of facile virtuosi arose in response to the
demand. Since then, however, we have gotten a subtler sense of the
instrument. We no longer require so insensitive a display. And together
with those rather gross piano-works the piece _par excellence_
characteristic of the period, the brilliant piano-concerto with its
prancing instrument embedded in the pomp and clangor and ululation of
the band, has lost in favor steadily. The modern men no longer write
concerti. When they introduce a pianoforte into the orchestra, they
either, like Brahms, treat it as the premier instrument, and write
symphonies, or, like Scriabine and Strawinsky, reduce it to the common
level. But M. Rachmaninoff has not participated in this change of
attitude. He is still content with music that toys with the pianoforte.
And he writes concerti of the old type. He writes pieces full of the old
astounding musical dislocation. Phrases of an apparent intensity and
lyricism are negated by frivolous and tinkling passage-work. Take away
the sound and fury signifying nothing from the third concerto, and what
is left? There was a day, perhaps, when such work served. But another
has succeeded to it. And so M. Rachmaninoff comes amongst us like a very
charming and amiable ghost.

For that, however, let us not fail to be duly grateful. Let us not fail
to give thanks for the fact that setting forever is the conception of
music as an after-dinner cordial, a box of assorted bonbons,
bric-a-brac, a titillation, a tepid bath, a performance that amuses and
caresses and whiles away a half-hour, an enchantment for boarding-school
misses, an opportunity for virtuosi to glorify themselves.

One of the curious things about M. Rachmaninoff's season is the fact
that it has not only brought him into prominence amongst us, but that it
has brought into relief other composers through him. It has brought into
relief the entire group of Russian musicians to which he belongs. It has
evaluated the pretensions of the two conflicting schools of Russian
music nicely. The school of which M. Rachmaninoff is perhaps the chief
living representative, and which was represented at various times by
Rubinstein and Tchaikowsky and Arensky, is usually dubbed "universal"
by its partisans. It is supposed to have its traditions in general
European music, and to be a continuation of the art of the romanticists,
in particular of the art of Chopin and Schumann. But for the