Generally speaking, it is a characteristic trait of pseudo-culture not to insist too much, not to enter deeply into a subject or, as the phrase goes, not to make much fuss about anything.  Thus, whatever is high, great and deep, is treated as a matter of course, a commonplace, naturally at everybody’s beck and call; something that can be readily acquired, and, if need be, imitated.  Again, that which is sublime, god-like, demonic, must not be dwelt upon, simply because it is impossible or difficult to copy.  Pseudo-culture accordingly talks of “excrescencies,” “exaggerations,” and the like—­and sets up a novel system of aesthetics, which professes to rest upon Goethe—­ since he, too, was averse to prodigious monstrosities, and was good enough to invent “artistic calm and beauty” in lieu thereof.  “The guileless innocence of art” becomes an object of laudation; and Schiller, who now and then was too violent, is treated rather contemptuously; so, in sage accord with the Philistines of the day, a new conception of classicality is evolved.  In other departments of art, too, the Greeks are pressed into service, on the ground that Greece was the very home of “clear transparent serenity;” and, finally, such shallow meddling with all that is most earnest and terrible in the existence of man, is gathered together in a full and novel philosophical system [Footnote:  Hanslick’s “Vom Musicalish-Schoenen,” and particularly Vischer’s voluminous “System der AEsthetik."]—­wherein our varnished musical heroes find a comfortable and undisputed place of honour.

How the latter heroes treat great musical works I have shewn by the aid of a few representative examples.  It remains to explain the serene and cheerful Greek sense of that “getting over the ground” which Mendelssohn so earnestly recommended.  This will be best shown by a reference to his disciples and successors.  Mendelssohn wished to hide the inevitable shortcomings of the execution, and also, in case of need, the shortcomings of that which is executed; to this, his disciples and successors superadded the specific motive of their “Culture”:  namely, “to hide and cover up in general,” to escape attention, to create no disturbance.  There is a quasi physiological reason for this which I accidentally discovered once upon a time.

For the performance of Tannhauser, at Paris, I re-wrote the scene in the “Venusberg” on a larger scale:  at one of the rehearsals I explained to the ballet master that the little tripping pas of his Maenads and Bacchantes contrasted miserably with my music, and asked him to arrange something wild and bold for his corps—­ something akin to the groups of Bacchantes on ancient bas-reliefs.  Thereupon the man whistled through his fingers, and said, “Ah, I understand perfectly, but to produce anything of the sort I should require a host of premiers sujets; if I were to whisper a word of what you say, and indicate the attitudes you intend to my people