Thus
Schubert's greatest--his one completed--symphony was never acclaimed
until ten years after his death. Even his songs somehow brought more
glory to the singer than to the composer. Bach's oratorios lay buried
for a full century. On the other hand, names great in their day are
utterly lost from the horizon. It is hard to conceive the _eclat_ of a
Buononcini or a Monteverde,--whose works were once preeminent. There are
elements in art, of special, sensational effect, that make a peculiar
appeal in their time, and are incompatible with true and permanent
greatness. One is tempted to say, the more sudden and vehement the
success, the less it will endure. But it would not be true. Such an
axiom would condemn an opera like "Don Giovanni," an oratorio like the
"Creation," a symphony like Beethoven's Seventh. There is a wonderful
difference, an immeasurable gulf between the good and the bad in art;
yet the apparent line is of the subtlest. Most street songs may be poor;
but some are undoubtedly beautiful in a very high sense. It is a problem
of mystic fascination, this question of the value of contemporary art.
It makes its appeal to the subjective view of each listener. No rule
applies. Every one will perceive in proportion to his capacity, no one
beyond it. So, a profound work may easily fail of response, as many
works in the various arts have done in the past, because the average
calibre of the audience is too shallow, while it may deeply stir an
intelligent few.
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