Richard Strauss wrote these words in a letter to me in 1944. Their tone indicates his state of mind after Goebbels had declared total war and with a stroke of his pen had brought the artistic life of Germany to a standstill and condemned musicians to war-work.

But worse was to follow. Opera house after opera house fell victim to the intensified bombing raids. A direct hit destroyed the rear portion of the Vienna Staatsoper, right to the floor of the stage, on 12th March 1945. Four further hits completely destroyed the stage and turned the glory of the auditorium into rubble and ashes. Some of the disaster might have been prevented had the firefighting team who were familiar with the building not been called up for warwork and the service not been manned by untrained newcomers. Thus, in a few hours, one of the most famous temples of the arts became a smoking ruin. The final strafing came a few weeks later, with the entry of soviet troops.

Observers of the American musical scene tend to decry the commercialization of the musical life in the United States, its subservience to the mass entertainment media (radio, television, and the cinema), and its excessive centralization along a Hollywood-New York axis of monolithic agencies and frenetic publicity bureau. All this is true; but it represents only one side of the picture. Statistics may not in themselves prove very much, but they show a tremendous and healthy growth in the volume of musical activity throughout the United States—symphony orchestras in scores of communities, approximately three hundred music schools scattered throughout the nation, and increasing attention to serious music in the schools, colleges, and universities.

One of the brightest of the Third Programme's recent efforts was the presentation of a little festival of Pfitzner's music. “Little,” perhaps, may be not quite the right word for however short a series of programmes which included the whole of Palestrina (1912–1915), but it must be remembered that Pfitzner wrote four other operas besides this celebrated chef-d'oeuvre—Der arme Heinrich (1891–93), Die Rose vom Liebesgarten (1897–1900), Das Christelflein (1906, revised 1917), and Das Herz (1930–31). The B.B.C. gave us no glimpse of these other operas, although round about Christmas of each year one of their regional orchestras undertakes the overture to Das Christelflein as an appropriately seasonal piece. For this festival occasion, the B.B.C, in addition to Palestrina, threw in a song recital and a performance of Pfitzner's last chamber work, the Sextet (Op. 55/1945) for piano, violin, viola, cello, double-bass and clarinet. These two latter items may have been well-intentioned choices, but, notwithstanding, they were extremely ill chosen. The Third Programme—as, alas, so often—was either wrongly advised, or simply did not have any (skilled) advice to call upon. For instance, the six songs, ably performed by Mary Jarred, belonged to Pfitzner's earliest period—the latest “Lied”" was Sonst (Op. 15, no. 4), composed in 1904, and most of the other songs were written in the 1880's or 90's. But Pfitzner's output of “Lieder” extends to the 1930's and up to Op. 41—and his maturest and best songs are to be found in the years which the B.B.C. did not remotely approach! Incidentally, no opus numbers were printed in the Radio Times or announced over the air, so that as far as the uninformed listener was concerned he was hearing a “representative” selection of Pfitzner's “Lieder”; in fact, of course, he was hearing nothing of the kind.

No period of English music is in greater need of revaluation than the 18th century. Its history has yet to be written. In general there is a complete lack of biographical and critical literature. Documents and letters are practically non-existent. Work remains uncollected and judgments are still based on 19th century estimates, which were founded upon insufficient knowledge and less understanding. Until recently most new editions of the period attempted to fit the 18th century view-point into a 19th century canon, and they were not only stylistically bad but often texturally incorrect. The revival of any unfamiliar work of the period was, and still is, too often greeted with patronising disparagement or remarks about the superiority of Handel. That these composers were not of the stature of Handel can never be denied; but we should remember Francis Quarles's “if he cannot bring a cedar let him bring a shrub.” That they were individuals, with styles of their own, was perfectly clear to their contemporaries and is equally clear to us today once we penetrate the common language of their age sufficiently to understand the varying intonations of those who used it.

Faced with his latest composition—Cantata, finished in 1952—persistent opponents of Strawinsky will probably again speak in terms of the “funeral baked meats of former styles,” especially as this time the baked meats, both literary and musical, bear an early Elizabethan label—an Elizabethanism, of course, to which Strawinsky has given (as always) a subtle modern twist.

At the end of last November, Pittsburgh, on the initiative of Roy Harris, resident composer of the Pennsylvania College for Women, organized an ambitious First International Contemporary Music Festival. It was an attempt to give a survey of music written in the last quarter-century, and although lasting only one week, boldly challenged comparison with the American-sponsored Festival of Twentieth-century Masterpieces held in Paris throughout last May. It says much for all concerned that the Pittsburgh festival emerged from the comparison with much credit.