t movements of his works and between
the sections of the movements, and, perhaps more than in any other
way, in his unhappy choice of subjects for vocal works. One stands
amazed before the spectacle of the man who made that prodigious
success with the awful legend of "The Spectre's Bride" coming forward,
smiling in childlike confidence, with "Saint Ludmila," which was so
awful in another fashion. And then, as if not content with nearly
ruining his reputation by that deadly blow, he must needs follow up
"Saint Ludmila" with the dreariest, dullest, most poverty-stricken
Requiem ever written by a musician with any gift of genuine invention.
These mistakes might indicate mere want of tact did not the qualities
of Dvorak's music show them to be the result of sheer want of
intellect; and if the defects of his music are held by some to be
intentional beauties, no such claim can be set up for the opinions on
music which he has on various occasions confided to the ubiquitous
interviewer. The Slav is an interesting creature, and his music is
interesting, not because he is higher than the Western man, but
because he is different, and, if anything, lower, with a considerable
touch of the savage. When Dvorak is himself, and does not pass outside
the boundaries within which he can breathe freely, he produces results
so genuine and powerful that one might easily mistake him for a great
musician; but when he competes with Beethoven or Handel or Haydn, we
at once realise that he is not expressing what he really feels, but
what he thinks he should feel, that he is not at his ease, and that
our native men can beat him clean out of the field. To be sure, they
can at times be as dull as he, but that is when they forget the lesson
they should before now have learnt from him, when they leave the field
in which they work with real enjoyment and produce results which may
be enjoyed.

TSCHAIKOWSKY AND HIS "PATHETIC" SYMPHONY

A very little while since, Tschaikowsky was little more than a name
in England. He had visited us some two or three times, and it was
generally believed that he composed; but he had not written any piece
without which no orchestral programme could be considered complete,
and the mere suggestion that his place might possibly be far above
Gounod would certainly have been received with open derision. However,
when his fame became great and spread wide on the Continent, he became
so important a man in the eyes of Engl