s eyes with a
vague and sleepy look in them; and he is like old Rameau, who used to
walk about for hours as if he were an automaton, seeing nothing and
thinking of nothing.

At Strasburg Strauss conducted his _Sinfonia Domestica_, whose programme
seems boldly to defy reason, and even good taste. In the symphony he
pictures himself with his wife and his boy (_"Meiner lieben Frau und
unserm Jungen gewidmet"_). "I do not see," said Strauss, "why I should
not compose a symphony about myself; I find myself quite as interesting
as Napoleon or Alexander." Some people have replied that everybody else
might not share his interest. But I shall not use that argument; it is
quite possible for an artist of Strauss's worth to keep us entertained.
What grates upon me more is the way in which he speaks of himself. The
disproportion between his subject and the means he has of expressing it
is too strong. Above all, I do not like this display of the inner and
secret self. There is a want of reticence in this _Sinfonia Domestica_.
The fireside, the sitting-room, and the bedchamber, are open to
all-comers. Is this the family feeling of Germany to-day? I admit that
the first time I heard the work it jarred upon me for purely moral
reasons, in spite of the liking I have for its composer. But afterwards
I altered my first opinion, and found the music admirable. Do you know
the programme?

The first part shows you three people: a man, a woman, and a child. The
man is represented by three themes: a _motif_ full of spirit and humour,
a thoughtful _motif_, and a _motif_ expressing eager and enthusiastic
action. The woman has only two themes: one expressing caprice, and the
other love and tenderness. The child has a single _motif_, which is
quiet, innocent, and not very defined in character; its real value is
not shown until it is developed.... Which of the two parents is he like?
The family sit round him and discuss him. "He is just like his father"
(_Ganz der Papa_), say the aunts. "He is the image of his mother" (_Ganz
die Mama_), say the uncles.

The second part of the symphony is a scherzo which represents the child
at play; there are terribly noisy games, games of Herculean gaiety, and
you can hear the parents talking all over the house. How far we seem
from Schumann's good little children and their simple-hearted families!
At last the child is put to bed; they rock him to sleep, and the clock
strikes seven. Night comes. There are dreams