"sweetmeats" (p. 432); then, to our minds, one thing, and one thing
alone, became certain--namely, that his Sweetmeat-Beethoven is not our
Beethoven, and his Soup-Haydn is not our Haydn. The Master was
moreover of the opinion that our orchestra is too good to perform
Haydn, and that only the most unpretentious amateurs can do justice to
that music--a further proof that he was referring to some other artist
and some other work, possibly to Riehl's music for the home.

But whoever can this Sweetmeat-Beethoven of Strauss's be? He is said
to have composed nine symphonies, of which the Pastoral is "the least
remarkable"; we are told that "each time in composing the third, he
seemed impelled to exceed his bounds, and depart on an adventurous
quest," from which we might infer that we are here concerned with a
sort of double monster, half horse and half cavalier. With regard to a
certain Eroica, this Centaur is very hard pressed, because he did not
succeed in making it clear "whether it is a question of a conflict on
the open field or in the deep heart of man." In the Pastoral there is
said to be "a furiously raging storm," for which it is "almost too
insignificant" to interrupt a dance of country-folk, and which, owing
to "its arbitrary connection with a trivial motive," as Strauss so
adroitly and correctly puts it, renders this symphony "the least
remarkable." A more drastic expression appears to have occurred to the
Master; but he prefers to speak here, as he says, "with becoming
modesty." But no, for once our Master is wrong; in this case he is
really a little too modest. Who, indeed, will enlighten us concerning
this Sweetmeat-Beethoven, if not Strauss himself--the only person who
seems to know anything about him? But, immediately below, a strong
judgment is uttered with becoming non-modesty, and precisely in regard
to the Ninth Symphony. It is said, for instance, that this symphony
"is naturally the favourite of a prevalent taste, which in art, and