All the necessary elements were combined at Heidelberg to produce a magnificent production of Faust and Dante.  The orchestra of more than one hundred musicians was perfect.  The period when the wind instruments in Germany were wanting both in correctness and quality of sound has passed.  But the orchestra conductors have to be taken into account.  In our day these gentlemen are virtuosi.  Their personalities are not subservient to the music, but the music to them.  It is the springboard on which they perform and parade their all embracing personalities.  They add their own inventions to the author’s meaning.  Sometimes they draw out the wind instruments so that the musicians have to cut a phrase at the end to catch their breath; again they affect a mad and unrestrained rapidity which allows time neither to play nor to hear the sounds.  They hurry or retard the movement for no reason besides their individual caprice or because the author did not indicate them.  They perpetrate music of such a disorganized character that the musicians are utterly bewildered, and hesitate in their entrances on account of their inability to distinguish one measure from another.

The delightful Purgatoire has become a deadly bore, and the enchanting Mephistopheles has been riddled as by a hailstorm.  Familiarity with such excesses made me particularly appreciative of the excellent performance that Wolfrum, the musical director, obtained in the vast Christus concert.

Among the conductors was Richard Strauss who cannot be passed over without a word.  Certainly no one will hope to find moderation and serenity in this artist or be surprised if he gives his temperament free rein, and rides on to victory undisturbed by the ruins he leaves behind.  But he lacks neither intelligence nor elegance, and if he sometimes goes too fast he never overemphasizes slowness.  When he is conducting, we need not fear the desert of Sahara where others sometimes lead us.  Under his direction Tasso displayed all its wealth of resources and the jewel-like Mephisto-Walzer shone more brightly than ever before.

I can speak but briefly of the numerous soloists.  We neither judge nor compare such talents as those of Busoni, Friedheim, and Risler.  We are satisfied with admiring them.  However, if a prize must be awarded, I should give it to Risler for his masterly interpretation of the great Sonata in B minor.  He made the most of it in every way, in all its power and in all its delicacy.  When it is given in this way, it is one of the finest sonatas imaginable.  But such a performance is rare, for it is beyond the average artist.  The strength of an athlete, the lightness of a bird, capriciousness, charm, and a perfect understanding of style in general and of the style of this composer in particular are the qualifications needed to perform this work.  It is far too difficult for most virtuosi, however talented they may be.