It is for it that he created the trumpery horrors, the
sweet erotics of the score of "Salome." It is for it that he imitated
Mozart saccharinely in "Der Rosenkavalier"; mangled Moliere's comedy;
committed the vulgarities and hypocrisies of "Joseph's Legende." And did
no evidence roundly to the contrary exist, one might suppose this group
to really represent modern life; that its modernity was the only true
one; and that in expressing it, in conforming to it, Strauss was
functioning in the only manner granted the contemporary composer. But
since such evidence exists aplenty, since a dozen other musicians, to
speak only of the practitioners of a single art, have managed to keep
themselves immune and yet create beauty about them, to remain on the
plane upon which Strauss began life, to persevere in the direction in
which he was originally set, and yet live fully, one finds oneself
convinced that the deterioration of Strauss, which has made him musical
purveyor to this group, has not been the result of the pressure of
outward and hostile circumstances. One finds oneself positively
convinced that it was some inner weakness within himself that permitted
the spoilt and ugly folk to seduce him from his road, and use him for
their purposes.
And in the end it is as the victim of a psychic deterioration that one
is forced to regard this unfortunate man.
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