In those days there was nothing strange in a young musician, even if endowed with vast powers of comprehension, finding Mozart always satisfactory and Beethoven sometimes unintelligible. That was one of the musical limitations of that particular moment in the history of music. If the entry in Schubert's diary is to be taken seriously, it is only one among many illustrations of the difficulty which one creative genius often finds in comprehending the methods and results of another creative genius. But in Schubert's case there is some improbability in such a view. His early symphonies and string quartets, indeed, show that the influence of Haydn and Mozart was at that time quite masterful with him, while the influence of Beethoven was comparatively slight. But he had already spoken of Beethoven in terms of most enthusiastic and reverent admiration; and it is not easy to believe that at the age of nineteen the composer of the Erl King could have seriously repeated the crude stock objections that were urged against the composer of the C-minor symphony by old fossils like Salieri. The entry in Schubert's diary is redolent of irony, and was probably intended as a harmless vent for his satirical amusement at the foibles of the kindly old master who tried to repress his youthful exuberance and advised him not to meddle with German ballads. This kind of humor without bitterness was eminently characteristic of Schubert. Schubert's one fault was one to which allusion has already been made. As is so often the case, it was closely connected with his chief attribute of strength. His unrivalled spontaneity often led him into diffuseness. Melodies tumbled forth in such lavish profusion as to interfere with the conciseness of his works and mar their artistic form. This is chiefly true of his earlier instrumental works. It is not often the case with his vocal songs. There his musical creativeness is constrained into perfection of form through his completely adequate poetical conception of the words. From the Erl King to "Am Meer" his greatest songs are remarkable for saying just enough and knowing exactly when to stop. It is noticeable that he very seldom repeats the same verbal phrases, with changes of melody or harmony, as is customary in arias. In the arias, as well as in the grand choruses, of oratorios, cantatas, and operas, such repetition is often of the highest value as leading to an accumulation of sublime or gorgeous effects hardly otherwise attainable. But inasmuch as it is an artificial means of producing effects and would thus interfere with the simple spontaneity of the Lied, it would generally be out of place there. With Schubert the words of the poem are not merely a vehicle for the melody, but poetry and music are fused into such identity that when one has once known them it becomes impossible to separate them. In his earlier instrumental works, however, released from the guidance of the poetical