alleries where the young Italian painters
exhibit. So it was at the end of the concert. One man, a sane person,
was positively purple with rage (evidently he had paid for his seat),
and swore that the composer was verrueckt.

His compositions are not numerous. Schoenberg appears to be a
reflective rather than a spontaneous creator. Here is an abridged
list: Opus 1, 2, and 3 (composed, 1898-1900); Opus 4, string sextet,
which bears the title, Verklaerte Nacht (1899); Gurrelieder, after J.
P. Jacobsen, for solos; chorus and orchestra (1900), published in the
Universal Edition, Vienna; Opus 5, Pelleas et Melisande, symphonic
poem for orchestra (1902), Universal Edition aforesaid; Opus 6, eight
lieder (about 1905); Opus 7, E string quartet, D minor (1905); Opus 8,
six orchestral lieder (1904); Opus 9, Kammersymphonie (1906); two
ballads for voice and piano (1907); Peace on Earth, mixed chorus a
capella (1908), manuscript; Opus 10, II, string quartet, F-sharp minor
(1907-8); fifteen lieder, after Stefan George, a talented Viennese
poet, one of the Jung-Wien group (1908), manuscript; Opus 11, three
piano pieces (1908); five pieces for orchestra (1909) in the Peters
Edition; monodrama, Erwartung (1909); Glueckliche Hand, drama with
music, text by composer, not yet finished (1910); and six piano pieces
(1911). His book on harmony appeared in 1910 and was universally
treated as the production of a madman, and, finally, as far as this
chronicle goes, in 1911-12 he finished Pierrot Lunaire, which was
first produced in Berlin.

* * * * *

One thing is certain, and this hardly need assure my musical readers,
the old tonal order has changed for ever; there are plenty of signs in
the musical firmament to prove this. Moussorgsky preceded Debussy in
his use of whole-tone harmonies, and a contemporary of Debussy, and an
equally gifted musician, Martin Loeffler, was experimenting before
Debussy himself in a dark but delectable harmonic region. The tyranny
of the diatonic and chromatic scales, the tiresome revolutions of the
major and minor modes, the critical Canutes who sit at the seaside and
say to the modern waves: Thus far and no farther; and then hastily
abandon their chairs and rush to safety else be overwhelmed, all these
things are of the past, whether in music, art, literature, and--let
Nietzsche speak--in ethics. Even philosophy has become a plaything,
and logic "a dodge," as Professor Jowett pu