{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_76559/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_76559","id":"gutenberg_76559","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76559","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Music","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Music -- Philosophy and aesthetics"],"text":"TERPANDER\n\n\n\n\n                               TERPANDER\n                                 _or_\n                         MUSIC AND THE FUTURE\n\n                                  BY\n                            EDWARD J. DENT\n\n\n                            [Illustration]\n\n\n                               New York\n                        E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY\n                           681 Fifth Avenue\n\n\n\n\n                            Published, 1927\n                       BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY\n\n\n                         _All rights reserved_\n\n\n                PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n\n\n\n\n_All ancient writers who mention the progressive state of music in\nGreece, are unanimous in celebrating the talents of TERPANDER. Several\nwriters tell us that he added three strings to the lyre, which before\nhis time had but four. Plutarch, in his \u201cLaconic Institutions,\u201d informs\nus that Terpander was fined by the Ephori for his innovations. However,\nin his Dialogue on Music, he likewise tells us that the same musician\nappeased a sedition at Sparta, among the same people, by the persuasive\nstrains which he sung and played to them upon that occasion. There\nseems no other way of reconciling these two accounts, than by supposing\nthat he had, by degrees, refined the public taste, or depraved his own\nto the level of his hearers._\u2015\u2015BURNEY.\n\n\n\n\n                               TERPANDER\n\n\n\n\n                                   I\n\n\nIn the early years of the present century a certain learned and\ncultivated musician, then about eighty years of age, was heard to\nsay, as he came out from a concert at which works by Debussy had been\nplayed: \u201cWell, if this is the \u2018music of the future,\u2019 I\u2019m very glad\nI shan\u2019t live to hear it!\u201d Debussy has passed over to the classics\nsince then, but there are still plenty of music-lovers, many of them,\ntoo, not more than middle-aged at the most, who feel apprehensive\nabout the future of music. Wherever they turn, there seems to be\ncomplete chaos. The music of the present day is for them an unending\nsuccession of hideous noises. There are some who, remembering that in\ntheir own lifetime they have passed through periods when even Brahms\nand Wagner, Richard Strauss and C\u00e9sar Franck seemed unintelligible,\nare yet resolved not to be baffled by Sch\u00f6nberg and Stravinsky. They\nstudy contemporary music with perhaps little pleasure, but with\npassionate interest and curiosity. Yet they are inevitably conscious\nof difficulties which do not appear to have confronted them before.\nThey can see in the music of the early twentieth century some clear\ncontinuance of the classical tradition; in the later music they can\nfind nothing that gives them even a faint hope of being able to\nunderstand it\u2015\u2015some day if not now. They find themselves in the\nposition of a man who sets out to learn a language which has no\nconnection with the Indo-European stock. It is bad enough to have to\nmaster a new alphabet; one may possibly, by dint of strenuous effort,\ncommit to memory a vocabulary of words which bear not the remotest\nresemblance to any in French or German, Latin or Greek; but when\nit comes to tackling an entirely strange system of syntax for the\nexpression of unfamiliar ideas, the mind revolts and the student asks\nwhether all this jargon can really have any significance at all. And\nthe student of modern music is made still more sceptical by the fact\nthat the musicians whom he respects among the apparent initiates are\nseldom in any agreement as to which of the various conflicting systems\nof music is to be regarded as the expression of the true faith. Can you\ntell me, he asks, often with genuine humility, of one living composer\nwhom you wholeheartedly accept as a great creative genius, in the way\nin which you once accepted Beethoven, or Brahms, or Wagner, as the\ncase might be? The hardened critic hesitates, names tentatively this\nor that musician\u2015\u2015No, replies the other firmly; there seems to be no\none whom you can name without some qualification. And to scepticism\nhe adds fear. The new music, he begins to feel, requires not merely a\nnew and unaccustomed intellectual effort: it demands a new outlook on\nlife altogether. It may affect and disturb fundamental principles such\nas most people prefer to leave untouched. It may be in truth what the\nold fogeys of the past have always said of it: it may be \u201cpositively\ndangerous.\u201d\n\nLet us consider our fundamental principles. Let us forget for a moment\nall this contemporary turmoil and ask ourselves what is honestly our\nattitude to the classics that we revere. Music, it has often been said,\nappeals to us in three ways. It affects us first by the mere sensuous\nbeauty of sound; as we become more familiar with the art, it works upon\nour emotions, and finally we learn to contemplate it intellectually.\n_La musique est l\u2019art de penser avec les sons._ To the musician who has\nbeen brought up on the classics this definition of Combarieu\u2019s sums\nup his most complete experience. The three forms of appeal summarily\ndescribed above divide listeners conveniently into three categories,\nbut it is a very rough division, and the same person may at any one\ntime of his life and experience find himself in any one of the three\ngroups according to the particular work which he may be hearing. But it\nmay be safely said that the large majority of those whom we can call\nmusic-lovers belong to the class for whom the appeal of music is mainly\nor exclusively emotional. The first group, those who are affected only\nby the physical quality of musical sound, may be disregarded here.\nAnd it must be remembered that any one who is sufficiently musical to\nenjoy what we colloquially call \u201ca tune,\u201d however simple, has at least\nthe germ of intellectual appreciation; he recognizes that a tune has a\ndefinite rhythmical shape and a definite tonality, even if he is not\nable to say so in technical language. But most people, when they listen\nto music, do not want to be bothered with formal analysis; they want to\nhave their emotions aroused. The analysis of their musical experiences\nis a very complicated matter and far beyond the scope of this book.\nThere are many people who fear that if they acquired a knowledge of\nthe structural principles of music they would lose all their pleasure\nin it. They are confirmed in this belief by finding that persons who\nare learned in the science of music undoubtedly lose pleasure in much\nthat satisfies the emotional requirements of the uninitiated, and may\nin some cases appear to have lost pleasure in hearing any music at\nall. The fear is groundless. The character and quality of the pleasure\nmay change, and undoubtedly does change as a result of ripening and\ndecaying age; but no one, even among those who detest all modern music,\nhowever sadly he may say _si vieillesse pourrait_, would admit after\npersonal experience that the essential joy of music was destroyed by\nknowledge.\n\nIn default of knowledge, the \u201cemotional\u201d group of music-lovers,\neagerly desiring to find some significance in the music which they\nhear, often try to translate it into some other language with which\nthey are more familiar. Some listeners maintain that music gives them\npositive sensations of colour. There are many who in listening to music\nconsciously construct pictorial images. Others will seek to interpret\nit as meaning something that could be expressed in terms of literature.\nExperiments have generally shown that when a number of listeners are\nasked to give their impressions of the same piece of music agreement\nhardly ever goes further than to such vague indications of character as\nthe composer himself might give in his conventional Italian directions\nfor performance, except in cases where the composer has deliberately\nset out to evoke some literary or pictorial image or has employed\nsome well-worn conventional device for the awakening of familiar\nassociations.\n\nThe psychological process of musical creation has hitherto eluded\nall scientific research. No satisfactory result can be obtained from\ncomparing the recorded utterances of the composers themselves as to\nwhat induced the composition of their works or what they intended to\nexpress in them. People who are inclined to interpret the music which\nthey hear in literary or pictorial terms are naturally attracted\nby definitely descriptive music, and readily produce evidence in\nsupport of the theory that all composers set out to write music with\na deliberately descriptive intent. But the history of music shows us\nclearly that deliberately descriptive music rarely stands the test of\ntime. There are plenty of examples to be found of acknowledged great\ncomposers such as Byrd, Purcell, Bach, Handel, Haydn, and Beethoven,\nwho have now and then set out to be descriptive; and in almost every\ncase we feel that their descriptive music is on a far lower level than\ntheir non-descriptive music. Indeed, in many cases it is painfully\nridiculous both as pure music and as description. If it can be saved at\nall, it is only by concentrating attention on its purely musical aspect.\n\nThe trained musician is content to take music as music and nothing\nelse. It is a logical and reasonable language, although it cannot\nbe translated into words. Writers on painting seem now to be pretty\ngenerally agreed that the \u201cstory\u201d of a picture has nothing to do\nwith its value as a work of art; that depends upon line and colour\nalone. It is nearly half a century since Walter Pater wrote that \u201call\nart constantly aspires towards the condition of music.\u201d It was yet a\ngeneration earlier that Hanslick put forward his theory of musical\nbeauty. That theory of \u201cabstract music\u201d did not satisfy the age of\nWagner and Liszt; but although Hanslick failed to work out his theory\nas fully as he might have done, its further implications have come to\nbe accepted with surprising cordiality by a generation of musicians\nwhose art would probably have filled Hanslick himself with the most\nunspeakable horror.\n\nMusic expresses itself and nothing else. A work may be dramatic,\nillustrative, or even descriptive in certain aspects; but unless it\nis intelligible simply as music alone, constructed on its own purely\nmusical principles, apart from all external considerations, it must\nfall short of perfection as a work of musical art.\n\n\n\n\n                                  II\n\n\nThose who have been brought up on the music of Bach, Beethoven, and\nBrahms can readily accept this theory of musical \u00e6sthetics. It is\neminently satisfactory as an interpretation of all that we commonly\ncall classical music. There are many people who do not want to listen\nto any other kind of music. They have heard of great names in the\ndays before Bach, but they are easily inclined to take the view that\nsuch composers as Purcell and the elder Scarlatti were merely the\nnecessary forerunners who prepared the way; that Palestrina was an\nexceptional and unaccountable expression of a peculiarly exalted age\nof religious belief, and that any one belonging to an earlier date can\nbe dismissed as a primitive interesting only to the antiquary. But\nat the present day the antiquaries are coming into their own. Both\nin England and abroad there is a vigorous revival of interest in the\nmusic of the centuries before Bach. After long years of dusty research\nthe antiquaries have at last begun to convince a younger generation\nthat a great deal of this so-called primitive music can be given life\nin performance, and performance has shown that it has a surprisingly\nvivid power of appealing to the emotions of modern hearers. Leaders of\ncontemporary music indeed are clearly feeling that pre-classical and\neven mediaeval music has in many cases a more intimate affinity with\nthat of our own day than the music of the last two hundred years. It\nhas even come to exercise a definite and admitted influence on the\ntechnique of modern composition.\n\nTo dissect out the causes and effects of this tendency would be a\ncomplicated and difficult task for which there is no space here. But\nthere is one point which is a matter of common knowledge to the trained\nmusician, and the general musical public is probably more or less\naware of it though unable to explain it in technical language. From\nthe year 1600 to the year 1900, roughly speaking, all Western music is\nbased on the same fundamental principle of _tonality_. All music is\ncomposed in a key. One note is adopted as a centre. The remaining notes\nof the octave are brought into various clearly defined relationships\nto it. They may further be arranged in groups, sounded simultaneously,\nknown as chords. Each of these chords has its own fixed arrangement\nand its fixed relationship to the centre. What has been done for one\nnote of the octave may be done in exactly the same way for any other,\nforming what we call the key of that note. The musician may shift from\none key to another in the course of his work, but it is understood\nthat he must make his main key clear and definite at the outset and\nmust re-establish it again with equal decision at the end. In the early\nyears of the seventeenth century the efforts of musicians were directed\nchiefly to establishing one key clearly and towards the training of\naudiences to grasp the first principles of the system. As they became\nmore and more accustomed to the system the composers were able to\nextend and elaborate it. The interrelations of notes and chords became\nincreasingly subtle and delicate from the days of Monteverdi to those\nof Wagner; but the fundamental key-system and the rhythmical system\nwhich is inseparable from it remained always precisely the same. The\nlanguage of music developed steadily and rationally just as the English\nlanguage has developed from Shakespeare to Swinburne. It is no wonder\nthen that most musicians regarded its foundations as indestructible.\n\nIts grammar was codified by Rameau early in the eighteenth century,\nand later theorists saw no reason to repudiate the main principles\nof Rameau\u2019s doctrine. In the passionate stateliness of Rameau\u2019s own\nmusic, in the gigantic dignity of Handel, in the genial _Gem\u00fctlichkeit_\nof Bach, we see the same lucid and logical precision of language. It\nwas only natural that eighteenth century criticism should regard the\nmusic of earlier centuries as crude and barbarous. The nineteenth\ncentury approached the older music with a more penetrating sense of\nscholarship, but could not help reading it in the same spirit. An age\nof antiquarian research inevitably tended to consider its discoveries\nas historical documents to be examined in the dry light of theory\nrather than as the expressions of intensely passionate humanity. The\nmusic of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance was interpreted according\nto the system of Rameau, for no other system could be conceived. If\nunder these conditions it failed to make any emotional appeal, that\ndid not matter: reverence for antiquity discouraged the unveiling of\npassion.\n\n\n\n\n                                  III\n\n\nThe development of all kinds of historical studies during the past\nhalf-century has caused a wide and by no means learned public to take a\nkeen interest in the life of the past and in its artistic expression.\nWe can no longer quietly accept the doctrine that music began with\nBach, or even\u2015\u2015as Victor Hugo suggested\u2015\u2015with Palestrina. The\narchitecture, sculpture and painting of the remote centuries, as well\nas their poetry, bring the ancient and mediaeval world vividly before\nour eyes and minds. We cannot help seeing that music must have been no\nless important in the lives of our ancestors than it is in our own;\nindeed, it often seems that in those far-away times the art of music\nexercised an even more cogent influence than it does now. How can it\nbe, we ask, that people so strangely susceptible to the power of sound\nand at the same time so consummately accomplished in the other arts\nshould have left behind them an art of music which we can only regard\nas crude and primitive?\n\nIf we attempt to consider this question seriously we shall soon find\nthat we are confronted with fundamental problems of \u00e6sthetics. First of\nall we must rid ourselves of the habit of regarding music as something\nprinted on paper which can be played on the pianoforte. Modern\ncivilization easily leads us to take it for granted that whatever has\nbeen written down or printed is clearly fixed and recorded for all\ntime. But the real music is not that which is written down: it is the\nsounds which are made by those who perform it. A physician cannot cure\nhis patient merely by giving him prescriptions to read. The written\nnotes, even those of our own day, require imaginative interpretation;\nthey require, too, an interpretation based on tradition and experience.\nComplicated as it is, our contemporary notation is very inadequate,\nalthough we of to-day are thoroughly accustomed to the practice of\nconveying information by written signs. It is only natural that in\ncenturies when very few people were able to read or write words at all\nthe notation of music should have presented still greater difficulty.\nWe can see from early documents such as the ecclesiastical manuscripts\nof the tenth century that if music was written down it was not in\norder that complete strangers should be able to read it clearly and\naccurately at sight, but merely to serve as a reminder to the singer of\nwhat he had already committed to memory by ear.\n\nThe records of the other arts are solid material facts, things of\nwood, metal or stone which are always before our eyes. The music that\nwas contemporary with them has disappeared into silence, but that\ndoes not necessarily prove that it was not worth preserving. Yet we\nmay well ask ourselves another question: is any art worth preserving?\nFrom the historian\u2019s point of view everything is worth preserving as\na historical document; but if we judge works of art from a purely\n\u00e6sthetic standpoint can we honestly say that the art of the past has\nany value for us?\n\nDirectors of museums and galleries may perhaps be shocked at so\nheretical a question. But if, as so many art-critics have suggested,\nmusic is the ideal type of art we may legitimately approach the\nsubject from a musical point of view in preference to a pictorial one.\nThe records of the other arts are solid material facts: temples and\ncathedrals, statues, panels, canvases. Compared with a symphony that\nmay last an hour in performance, they are almost to be considered\nindestructible and eternal. If on hearing the symphony we find that\nit gives us no pleasure, it is soon over, and we need never hear it\nagain. Once the cathedral has been put up, it is more trouble than\nit is worth to take it away again. A second generation may think\nit hideous, a third takes no notice of it, a fourth venerates its\nantiquity, yet another decides to find it beautiful. The statue or the\npicture meets with a similar fate, but as it is less bulky, it can at\nleast be sold, bought and sold again. It may acquire value as a rarity,\nfor every material work of art is unique, whereas a piece of music\ncan be reproduced as many times and in as many different places as we\nchoose. The owner of a picture by Titian possesses property which is\nhis and his alone. He might say the same of an autograph manuscript by\nBeethoven; but he cannot possess the symphony itself\u2015\u2015that belongs\nto the world at large. The autograph may fetch a thousand pounds at\nauction, but it is no more than a piece of dirty paper. You can hear\nthe symphony played for a shilling.\n\nThe fundamental question at issue is this\u2015\u2015is a work of art a complete\nand finite thing, beautiful when it left its maker\u2019s hand, beautiful\nnow and for ever, or is it frankly transitory, a momentary expression\nof a momentary experience, speaking as a rule only to those who\nbelong to the same generation? The art dealer and the museum director\nnaturally take the first view. If you have paid some huge sum for a\npicture, you may hesitate to burn it as soon as you are tired of it.\nYou must at least go on pretending to admire it. And since material\nworks of art are always before us, it is natural that philosophers\nshould have started to construct their artistic theories from an\narchitectural or pictorial point of view. It is perhaps inevitable\nthat the criticism of music should borrow phrases from that of the\nplastic arts, because music is an art so entirely complete in itself\nthat it has never yet evolved an adequate vocabulary of technical\nterms, let alone a vocabulary in which its nature can be described\nto the non-technical reader. But although there may be something to\nbe said for Goethe\u2019s famous comparison of architecture to \u201cfrozen\nmusic,\u201d it is with poetry rather than with the plastic arts that music\nmore legitimately may seek affinity. Literary critics have never yet\nsucceeded in defining what poetry is; but we can at any rate say that\nwhat distinguishes poetry from a statement of the same idea in prose\nis chiefly the presence of qualities which are common both to poetry\nand to music. It has been clearly shown, for instance, that the lyric\npoetry of classical Greece employed devices of construction which are\ncuriously similar to those of Beethoven. Habit induces us to imagine\nthat the value of Beethoven\u2019s music depends on our conventional\nscale and the harmonies derived from it; but though we are bound\nto admit that every artist is limited by the peculiar qualities of\nhis materials, whether they be words, marble or musical sounds, we\nknow that they cannot be turned to artistic account unless he has\nchosen them, imperfect as they are, to serve him in the expression of\nsomething conceived in his imagination\u2015\u2015something of which he himself\nis definitely aware although he cannot communicate it to others without\nthis material presentation.\n\nThat which is common to poetry and music is not a metaphysical figment.\nIt may often elude analysis; but at present it has hardly been\ninvestigated scientifically. It ought to be possible to find out a\ngreat deal more about it, and to find out a great deal more about what\nconstitutes the \u201cpoetical\u201d quality\u2015\u2015to use the epithet in a familiar if\nnot very accurate sense\u2015\u2015of musical interpretation, for these things\nare problems of actual physical sound.\n\nThe close connection between music and poetry would indeed be more\nimmediately apparent if people of to-day had not acquired a distorted\nview of poetry by reading it in silence instead of reciting it aloud.\nCheap printing and popular education have given readers\u2015\u2015poets too,\nperhaps\u2015\u2015an entirely false set of values. People talk of the beauties\nof Greek poetry; how can they have any idea of them when the most\nlearned scholars admit that nobody knows how classical Greek ought\nto be pronounced? They are in the same position as a musician of the\nfuture might be if he studied the scores of Beethoven without any idea\nof what a tone or a semitone was. They know what the words mean, but\nthey are in much the same case as the man who sees nothing in a picture\nbeyond the story which it tells. This preoccupation with the \u201cstory\u201d,\nnatural and inevitable as it is, has dominated the whole conception of\nart; it has even contaminated the conception of music. It is necessary\nto draw attention to it here, because it constantly distracts the\nattention from the fact that all the arts are in a perpetual state\nof change. We see the human form represented in the plastic arts and\nare inevitably tempted to judge them according to their skill in\nrepresenting it faithfully. We read about the common experiences of\nhuman life in poetry, we accept translations from other languages\nwithout demur, and take pleasure in the sense of human continuity. The\nstability of material works of art gives us a false idea of \u00e6sthetic\npermanence; we are easily induced to take an analogous view of poetry.\nBut in actual fact language, which is the material of poetry, is in\nconstant flux; we are so well aware of that fact that we have almost\nceased to notice it. Language changes because it is, if not the most\nimmediate, at least the most useful, of our means of expression. The\nmost immediate means of artistic expression is music, and consequently\nmusic is of all the arts the most subject to change, perhaps the most\nsubtle, certainly the most transitory.\n\n\n\n\n                                  IV\n\n\nThe art of music undergoes change, as does language, because it adapts\nitself to the expression of changing views of life. \u201cEverything new,\u201d\nsays Frazer, \u201cis apt to excite the awe and dread of the savage.\u201d The\nactive and exploring temperament seeks new experiences intellectual\nas well as physical; the temperament that is sedentary and passive\nshelters itself behind what is already well established. It dreads\nnovelty and dreads it particularly in music\u2015\u2015that is, if it is\nsusceptible to music at all\u2015\u2015for the very reason that music is the most\nimmediate means of expressing innermost experiences such as mankind\noften fears to express in the more easily misinterpreted medium of\nwords. Music has at all times been strangely associated with fear. From\nthe earliest days it was the confederate of magic and religion. Even\nin classical Greece it was regarded as a thing of danger if not kept\nunder the severest control. Sir Henry Hadow has pointed out that in the\nwhole of classical Greek literature there is not a word of what we can\ncall musical criticism, that is, criticism of music simply as an art\nin itself. But although moralists discussed it from a strictly ethical\npoint of view, their very fear of it shows how powerful must have been\nits influence on those who enjoyed it. The absence of critical writings\ndoes not necessarily imply an absence of artistic feeling or artistic\ndiscrimination. It is a matter of common knowledge that the Greek word\nfor \u201cmusic\u201d covered a far wider field than the word does to-day. Music\nwas to the Greeks practically inseparable from poetry, so that we find\non the one hand that their poetry absorbs much of the inventive skill\nwhich we now consider to be more appropriate to music, and on the other\nhand that music comes in for a good deal of the ethical censure which\nis more likely to be due to the poetry. Fortunately artists have at all\ntimes been reluctant to submit to the tyranny of moralists.\n\nAlthough practical experience may force us to admit that the perpetual\nchange to which music has been subjected during the course of centuries\nmakes it impossible for us to arrive even after prolonged study of\ndocuments at a complete understanding of the art of the remoter past,\nit is nevertheless interesting to make the attempt for the sake of\ndeepening historical knowledge. If we cannot enter into the life of\nour ancestors without studying their arts as well as their politics,\nwe must certainly pay as careful an attention to their music as we do\nto their architecture or their painting. The historians of music have\nonly recently begun to set forth in a tentative way the evolution of\nmusical forms. They have paid little or no attention to the varying\nrelations of music to the other arts and to life in general. Nor have\nthey considered seriously the history of musical appreciation. But if\nwe are to understand the significance of music at various periods it\nis obviously of interest to discover at what date music began to be\nregarded as an independent art\u2015\u2015independent, that is, not merely of\npoetry, but also of magic, religion or ethics. And this will further\nlead us to the closely connected question of its varying psychological\nappeal.\n\nThe rough division, suggested in a previous chapter, of that appeal\ninto the three aspects, physical, emotional and intellectual, will at\nleast serve to provide us with an experimental basis. If we find it\nunsatisfactory we shall at least hope to make our minds clearer as\nto its real nature in the process of submitting it to a historical\ntest. There is, too, another well-known classification of artistic\nexperience under the adjectives \u201cDionysiac\u201d and \u201cApollinian.\u201d The\nlatter coincides, if I understand it aright, more or less with what\nI have called the \u201cintellectual\u201d appreciation of music; but the\n\u201cDionysiac\u201d view of music seems to require more searching analysis. It\nis clear that the Dionysiac view of music must be very much the older,\nas well as the commoner, of the two. The remoteness of Greek art of\nall kinds has caused most people to regard it in a very chilly light,\nalthough modern arch\u00e6ology has gone some way towards correcting this\nview. But it is highly probable that even to the more intellectual of\nGreek music-lovers music (using the word in our normal sense) was more\nfrankly a matter of physical sensation than cultivated musicians, at\nany rate in England, would willingly admit it to be for themselves.\nIt was pre-eminently vocal, and as the Greeks were a Mediterranean\npeople with a very clear and concrete outlook on life, its appeal to\nthem might be more reasonably compared with that of opera to South\nItalians. To people vividly conscious of all physical things singing\nnaturally implies intensification of the personality\u2015\u2015including\nthe physical personality\u2015\u2015of the singer. This will account for\nPlato\u2019s intimate conjunction of music with bodily conditions and his\nconsequent apprehension of its possible danger to morals. Evidently,\ntoo, the associational appeal of music was then already recognized\nand deliberately exploited by composers, though here it is difficult\nto separate clearly musical from purely rhythmical and poetical\nassociations.\n\nThe Romans seem to have regarded music merely as an amusement. There\nare plenty of people in all countries to-day, even in Germany itself,\nwho take the Roman view of music. It does not necessarily preclude\nthe view of music as an art by those who practise it for the mere\namusement of others, although it tends to lower standards because it\ninevitably encourages commercialism. Among the early Christians we at\nonce perceive a return to the fear of music as a dangerous thing. It\ncould only be tolerated as the \u201chandmaid of the Church\u201d; but though\nthat doctrine is still being preached, musicians have rebelled more\nand more resolutely against the acceptance of the ancillary position.\nSt. Augustine\u2019s famous description of the effect that music had on him\nshows how apprehensive he was lest music should become a more potent\ninfluence than dogma. Others, less sensitively susceptible to the voice\nof music than Augustine, speak of it as a thing purely subservient.\nThe most illuminating phrase is that of St. Basil who compares the\nuse of music in association with doctrine to the physician\u2019s use of\nhoney to disguise the unpleasant taste of his medicines. Yet it is\nclear that during the first thousand years of the Christian era there\nwas developed in the shadow of the Church an art of music which was\nhighly sophisticated and self-conscious. The ecclesiastical view of\nmusic had at least this to be said for it, that it caused music to be\nwritten down. It had for ritual reasons to be definitely fixed in an\nauthoritative record, whereas the music of the profane world, composed\nfor the delight of the moment, was not recorded and has therefore been\nlost for ever.\n\n\n\n\n                                   V\n\n\nThe mediaeval development of musical notation has an important bearing\non the history of music as an art. It brought music into direct contact\nwith the graphic arts and must have helped to suggest that the melodies\nwritten in a book were no less beautiful and no less permanent than\nthe pictures which illustrated the text. The monks who invented\nnotation in order to preserve liturgical music intact and uncorrupted\nfrom the vain errors of sinful man did as a matter of fact thereby\nprovide him with the means of developing his error scientifically. It\noccurred to someone that secular music could be recorded in notes as\nwell as sacred. The alphabet ceased to be practically a monopoly of\nthe Church. The social status of the musician rose as soon as notation\nmade it clear that the composition of a piece of music could be a\nthing apart from its performance. When music can be read from notes\nits hearers inevitably begin to realize that the individual performer\nhas no exclusive property in it. His voice may have lost none of its\nthrill, but the listener knows now that interpretation is not the same\nthing as spontaneous creation. If a song or a dance tune is thought\nworth the trouble of writing out, it means that it is held to be worth\npreserving. The musician who made it begins to take rank with the\nlearned clerk instead of being classed with tumblers and acrobats,\nrogues and vagabonds. The cultured amateur makes his appearance in the\nages of chivalry.\n\nMusic, considered as a fine art, belongs to the privileged classes\nalone. No doubt the illiterate people had their songs and dances, but\nthe ordered progress of musical development was of necessity carried\non mainly by those who could read and write. It is in this period\nthat the musical styles of East and West are sharply differentiated by\nthe discovery of the principle of harmony. Harmony, the simultaneous\nsounding of two or more different notes, is so indispensable a part of\nmusic to-day that many people find it almost impossible to conceive\nof an art of music based on melody alone. The most unlearned are so\naccustomed to the sounds of harmonic music that although their natural\ninstinct inclines them first towards pure melody it may be doubted\nwhether they can recall an ordinary tune without at least some vague\nhalf-conscious recollection of a harmonic basis to it. This suspicion\nis confirmed by the fact that many tunes have become widely popular\nin which the melody has at moments no significance apart from the\nunderlying harmonies.\n\nThe early history of harmonic experiment is still a matter of\ncontroversy; but whether it came from the Netherlands, from England or\nfrom Scandinavia, it undoubtedly originated in the North of Europe,\nand for several generations the chief focus of musical development was\ncentred in Flanders. This geographical factor has its significance.\nMelodic music is individualistic, harmony is co-operative. When two\nvoices sing different notes simultaneously in a piece of music, they\nare obliged to show a certain consideration for one another. In the\nfirst place they must not try to shout each other down. Secondly, they\nmust agree to accept some common system of rhythm and pace, if there\nis to be ordered principle of consonance between them. And if their\nmusic is to be pleasing in its general effect, they must accommodate\ntheir voices one to the other so that they blend agreeably. Each of\nthese points involves a certain self-sacrifice and subordination of\nthe individual to the community which is fundamentally irksome to\nthe Mediterranean temperament. The distinction between composer and\nperformer becomes sharper than ever. The history of musical composition\nfrom the time of _Sumer is icumen in_ (1260) to that of Josquin des\nPr\u00e9s (c. 1445\u20131521) shows the persistent effort of musicians to\ncurb the recalcitrant independence of the individual parts in the\ninterests of harmony and order. The writing down of music no doubt\nhelped considerably towards this. The tradition of extemporary singing,\neven in harmony, was kept up for a very long time, but it is obvious\nthat awkwardnesses which might be overlooked at a single _impromptu_\nperformance would be submitted to criticism and correction when they\nhad been set down on paper. The Netherland school of the fifteenth\ncentury devoted much study to intricate technical devices, and we see\nhere the most conspicuous example in early times of music in which\nemotion is completely sacrificed to mechanical ingenuity. It need\nhardly be said that this elaborate art was employed exclusively in\nthe service of the Church. The extreme examples of it can hardly\nhave afforded any listener the opportunity of enjoying the sensuous\npleasure of sound, either in single voices or in the combinations of\nits harmony. Nor can we imagine that it was a type of music which\nevoked associative images. A product of the intellect it certainly was;\nbut Apollo must have been as little responsible for its inspiration as\nDionysus. It was discipline; and at any rate its poverty of melodic\ninvention, its passionless indifference to sensuous beauty and its\nrigid obedience to rule may have represented the three monastic virtues.\n\n\n\n\n                                  VI\n\n\nYet some of the very composers who devoted their time to the solution,\nor construction, of such futile puzzles were themselves pioneers of\nwhat we can call modern, as opposed to mediaeval, music. With Josquin\nthe Renaissance in music may be said to begin. His sense of harmony\nmight be compared with the dawning sense of perspective in painting.\nThe true history of the part played by music during the Renaissance has\nyet to be written. Here only a few salient points can be touched upon.\nThe invention of printing brought music within the reach of a far wider\ncircle. The cultivated amateur comes more and more into notice. The\nleaders of music in the earlier period were still the Netherlanders.\nThey overran Italy and came into contact with Italian poets. The\noffspring of this union was the madrigal. The output of secular music\nfrom the presses of Italy was enormous, and it was soon imitated in\nother countries. Music was still to a large extent under the patronage\nof princes, but instead of being a rare luxury for the enhancement of\ncourtly splendour it became a universal ornament and pleasure of all\ncultured society. This is especially observable in Elizabethan England.\nWhat is important to realize about the secular music of the sixteenth\ncentury is that music was no longer the monopoly of a close corporation\nof professional musicians in which the distinction between composer and\nperformer was very indefinite; it was written very largely with full\nconsciousness of the enjoyment which ordinary people could derive from\nthe actual practice of it. As music becomes more and more one of the\nnormal delights of cultured life, it becomes less and less of a mystery\nand more of a conscious art. Josquin and his school had laid the firm\nfoundations of the classical language of music. If we take a long\nview of the history of the art from ancient times to the present day,\nconcentrating our attention mainly on secular music, which obviously\nexpresses the genuine musical feelings of mankind, rather than on\nchurch music, which in spite of the natural impulse of composers has\nalways been subject to anti-artistic restrictions of style, we shall be\nconvinced that the revolution associated with the name of Monteverdi\nand the beginnings of opera was a small matter compared with the\nestablishment of the harmonic system a century and a half earlier.\n\nThe ecclesiastical composers had undoubtedly made important\ncontributions to technique. For one thing, the mere length of the\nworks required gave them space in which to work out their technical\ndevices completely. Secular music, with its swifter interplay of\nemotion, required a more compressed style, an art of vivid suggestion\nrather than of exhaustive discussion. From the beginning of the\nsixteenth century onwards music moves gradually faster and faster.\nIts development assumes in the listener a knowledge of what has gone\nbefore. Madrigals were arranged for the lute, just as nowadays operas\nare arranged for the pianoforte. A good deal had to be left out in\nthe process of arrangement, but some acquaintance with the original\nmight reasonably be presupposed. Music thus develops as an art of\nassociative suggestion. Naturalism plays its part, probably under\nthe influence of naturalistic painting. Often enough the results are\nridiculous, but the general effect, viewed at the distance of time, was\nto enrich the musical language. The intimate association of music with\npoetry sometimes led the musician into dangerous paths. An interesting\ncontrast is exhibited by Byrd and Marenzio. The Italian is vividly\ndescriptive and illustrative; only his strong sense of key prevents\nhis work from becoming fragmentary and disjointed as he follows every\nsuggestion of his poet. Byrd is never literary; he is perhaps the\ngreatest pure musician of the whole age. He represents the perfect\nApollinian type, Marenzio the Dionysiac, and it is odd to find the\nMediterranean romantic and the Northerner classical.\n\n\n\n\n                                  VII\n\n\nThe appetite for music increases in the seventeenth century and\nthe development of musical drama brings the commercial aspect into\nprominence. It is the age of the theatrical and rhetorical style. It is\nan age of speed. There was little music printed, but much circulated in\nmanuscript. This does not mean that the general output was less than\nbefore. The manuscripts are much more easily legible than the printing\nfrom type; only engraving, rarely practised outside England, can rival\nthem. It is the century of \u201cfigured bass,\u201d a system of notation which\nenabled a composer to write down a mere outline of his accompaniments,\nleaving them to be filled up _extempore_ by the player. It saved time\nin composition, time in writing out; copying by hand took less time\nthan type-setting, and there was no need to multiply copies to any\ngreat extent. By the time that the copyist has made one the composer\nhas produced another work, and his public want the very latest. One of\nthe things that strikes us in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries\nis the incredible fertility of composers. Operas, cantatas, quartets\nor symphonies\u2015\u2015it is nothing unusual to find composers reckoning them\nin hundreds. And we cannot dismiss this copious output with contempt.\nIt is easy enough to say that one work sounds very much like another,\nand that even the greatest men have their moments of dullness; but even\nfor people who have not specialized in antiquarian studies there is a\nvast quantity of this music which still seems to have power to stir the\nemotions. It must have been composed in a hurry, performed in a hurry\nand thrown away in a hurry; it is a marvel that at this distance of\ntime we can still feel that even if we do not want to hear it often we\nare still glad to hear it once.\n\nThe agitated rhetoric of the seventeenth century becomes in the\neighteenth a convention of grandiloquence. The intellectual basis\nof the classical key-system proves to be a foundation upon which\nstructures of extraordinary massiveness and dignity can be reared. The\nimmense productivity of the age was only made possible by the frank\nacceptance of convention, even in the case of those rare composers\nlike Domenico Scarlatti and Haydn who systematically made fun of it.\nThis acceptance of convention was stabilized by the fact that there\nhad been time for the long accumulation of tradition. The constant\ndemand for new music was in no way inconsistent with the preservation\nof tradition; it was preserved not so much by the practical revival of\nold music as by the absorption of its style into what was contemporary.\nIt is significant that the eighteenth century marked the beginning of\nthe study of musical history.\n\n\n\n\n                                 VIII\n\n\nIt is during the eighteenth century that the classical symphony\nbecomes a power that could seriously threaten the supremacy of vocal\nand dramatic music. The chief centres of symphonic activity are those\nplaces where northern and southern musical culture met\u2015\u2015Vienna,\nMannheim, and in a lesser degree Paris. It was in the north that the\npreparatory work had been done long before, in the music meetings at\nOxford and in the _Collegium musicum_ of German universities. That\nmovement towards instrumental music was largely due to the amateurs.\nIt must not be forgotten that the orchestra of Prince Esterhazy for\nwhich Haydn composed symphonies was made up mainly from the domestic\nservants of the household. The Conservatoire at Vienna was founded\nby amateurs in order to provide them with help in their own private\nperformances. The symphony, along with the string quartet and the\nsonata for harpsichord or pianoforte, was the means of transferring\nthe musical expression of the Italian opera to the homes of people who\nhad no opportunity of entering an Italian theatre. The operatic aria\nbecame idealized and transfigured in the process just as a hundred\nyears later the operatic melodies of Bellini were transfigured in\nChopin\u2019s nocturnes. The spiritual result may be looked at in two ways,\naccording to our temperament and our point of view. We may say that\nthis transference conveys music to a higher \u00e6sthetic plane in that it\nremoves it from the direct contact with physical human personality to\na region of suggestion, association and evocation. Or we may say that\nin losing this direct contact we are losing touch with reality, that\nwe are sentimentalizing the art until we prefer pretence to truth.\nIt is at this stage of musical history that the fundamental \u00e6sthetic\nproblem becomes acute, although it must have existed for centuries\nbeforehand. That the problem was felt to be acute at the moment is\nshown by the appearance in 1750 of Baumgarten\u2019s _\u00c6sthetik_, which was\nthe starting-point of modern \u00e6sthetic philosophy.\n\nIt has often been said that in the eighteenth century the musician had\nno other function than to accompany the clatter of dishes at princely\ndinner-tables. Even if this were strictly true one might at least reply\nthat in this respect the aristocracy of the eighteenth century did more\nfor the art of music than their descendants. The music of that period\nmay have been conventional, courtly and designed to give pleasure;\nbut if so, its freedom from emptiness, vulgarity and triviality is\nastonishing. Church and State may have deliberately encouraged the\n\u201clight-hearted gaiety of the Viennese\u201d in order to distract their\nthoughts from the more serious problems of politics; but music in those\ndays was at any rate still an art, not a mere commercial product. At\nthe same time the printing presses were active. A symphony might have\nbeen composed for the entertainment of a prince, but as soon as it was\nprinted it became accessible to audiences outside the aristocratic\ncircle. It was an age of \u201csensibility\u201d; fine feelings, sighs and tears\nwere all the fashion. Music begins\u2015\u2015we can see it in Couperin, in\nBoccherini, in Mozart too\u2015\u2015to display the quality of refinement, a\nquality which in a later generation was to have a disastrous effect on\nthe vitality of the art.\n\n\n\n\n                                  IX\n\n\nThe outstanding characteristic of the nineteenth century is its moral\nfervour. The religious preoccupation of Victorian England is only a\nsmall part of this age of aspiration. In most countries of Europe\nphilosophy, science, literature, art, and social life bear witness to\nthe ethical passion, even in the cases of the most indignant revolt\nagainst it. It dominates music from the time of Beethoven onwards; and\neven now it is not entirely extinct in the musical world. The spirit\nof the French Revolution transformed the musician from a lackey to a\nprophet. Mozart was cut off just as he had recorded his vision of the\nnew age in _The Magic Flute_. Beethoven proclaims it in the _Choral\nFantasia_ and illuminates it still more intensely in _Fidelio_, in\nthe _Choral Symphony_, the _Missa Solemnis_ and the last quartets.\nOne cannot class Beethoven with the Romantics any more than Kant or\nGoethe. Romanticism stood not for enlightenment but for the reaction\nagainst it. The Romantics were like men who after an earthquake return\nto the ruins of their city to see what they can recover from them. It\nwas not always their own property that they recovered. The aristocrats\nhad lost their material privilege, but they were still determined to\nremain a class apart. The Catholic revival, on the Continent even\nmore than in England, was the assertion of aristocracy as a moral\nprinciple. It affected music apart from the music that was definitely\nliturgical because it brought about a revival of interest in Palestrina\ncomparable to the revival of interest in Dante. The emancipation of\nthe artist from feudal servitude encouraged him to assume something of\nthe privilege of the aristocracy. The typical figure of this movement\nis Paganini, from whom are descended Liszt and a multitude of minor\nmusicians who made it their life-work to play the prophet in public.\nThe mechanical developments of the new century contributed to the\ndevelopment of the new outlook on music. As travelling became easier\nand music-printing cheaper concerts increased in number and increasing\nnewspapers gave them increasing publicity. \u201c_Seid umschlungen,\nMillionen!_\u201d sang Beethoven, and the millions were embraced, though\nperhaps not quite in the way in which Schiller and he had intended.\n\nThe modern musician is often tempted to see nothing in the art of\nthe past century but pretentiousness. It is not altogether just to\naccuse the century of megalomania. Isolated musicians, such as Liszt,\nBerlioz and Wagner, were certainly possessed with the idea of their\nown greatness. One might say the same of Beethoven himself; but in\nBeethoven\u2019s case the consciousness of his own greatness was inseparable\nfrom a deep feeling of humility and an overwhelming sense of duty.\nBeethoven was no respecter of persons, but he had the philosopher\u2019s\nintuition of his relation to humanity and of humanity\u2019s relation to\nthe universe. Undoubtedly many artists of the nineteenth century\nwere stimulated by his example to attempt works on a needlessly\ncolossal scale, especially in Germany, where metaphysical studies have\nalways influenced a circle that extended far beyond the professed\nphilosophers. An ethical view of music became more and more strongly\nmarked in Germany; during the latter half of the century it made itself\nfelt in England, and to a slighter extent even in France. By the end\nof the century there was a very definite tendency to regard music as a\nform of free religious worship, expressing and stimulating mystical\nexperience for temperaments which could no longer be satisfied by\ndogmatic theology.\n\n\n\n\n                                   X\n\n\nIt is at all times difficult to draw a line between religious\nexaltation and rhetorical pretentiousness. A consideration of the\ntechnical means of expression in music may help us to clear our minds.\nSince the middle of the fifteenth century music has exhibited a\nperpetual struggle between counterpoint and harmony, between what are\nsometimes called the horizontal and vertical tendencies of the art. The\nhorizontal conception of music is, as all musicians know, the primary\nmusical instinct to sing and to elaborate the art by the combination\nof voices each singing its own independently expressive line and\nachieving further emotional force by the ordered clash of dissonance.\nThe vertical conception cannot really be separated entirely from the\nhorizontal, for it has grown out of it. It derives its emotional force\nfrom the assumption of periodic stresses, and the study of harmony is\ntherefore inseparable from that of rhythm. It is regular rhythm which\ngives different kinds of chords their \u00e6sthetic and the quasi-logical\nvalues.\n\nMelody represents individuality and counterpoint the interaction and\nconflict of individualities. Harmony represents the community as a\nwhole under the direction of the mind which has created the music.\nIt is therefore natural that as music comes to be associated with\ncommunal feeling on a large scale, with such ideas, for instance, as\nthe universal brotherhood of man, it should tend to become more and\nmore predominantly vertical in method. The ordinary music-lover can\nrealize this from his recollections of Bach and Handel. Bach\u2019s music\nis mainly horizontal in tendency. It is music for small groups of\nperformers, seldom suited to interpretation by large bodies. Handel\u2019s\nmusic, in which the vertical method is far more conspicuous, gains\nrather than loses by the multiplication of voices and instruments, and\nfor this reason Handel is to most Englishmen the ideal composer for\noccasions of national ceremony. The emotional effect is intensified\nby the actual increase of sound and along with this by the rhythmical\nunanimity of the chorus or orchestra. The ordinary man seems to be\ncuriously susceptible to emotion at the sight of several hundred\npeople doing exactly the same thing at one moment, as in military and\ngymnastic displays, even though the movements executed may be not in\nthe least interesting in themselves.\n\nThe communal feeling which is at the back of most of the music of\nthe nineteenth century finds its technical expression in blocks of\nchords and in strongly accentuated rhythms. A typical example is\nthe theme which opens the _finale_ of Beethoven\u2019s C minor symphony.\n_Lohengrin_ and _Elijah_ are full of instances. In some cases the\nimpression may be no more than momentary, a mere two or three chords,\nbut the trick makes its effect. It becomes too obviously a trick in\nthe hands of Liszt. As a pianist he could not help being attracted\nby it. The mechanism of the pianoforte suits full chords better than\nthe complication of counterpoint, and the percussive action of itself\nexaggerates rhythmical stresses. It was the ideal instrument for\nLiszt\u2019s grand heroic manner.\n\nThe pianoforte was the amateur\u2019s instrument as well as the _virtuoso\u2019s_.\nThe nineteenth century is the age of the amateur pianist. Music became\nthe pleasure of the rising middle class, for whose domestic consumption\nan endless flood of polite and agreeable music was printed after the\nexamples set by Mendelssohn and Schumann. Whatever the present age may\nthink of those two composers it can safely be said that no musicians\nhave ever been regarded by the general musical public with so widespread\nand so heartfelt an affection. Whoever easily recalls the lines\n\n    As for some dear familiar strain\n    Untir\u2019d we ask, and ask again.\n    Ever, in its melodious store,\n    Finding a spell unheard before\u2015\u2015\n\nmust surely connect them in immediate memory with the _Scenes of\nChildhood_ or the _Songs without Words_.\n\nIt used often to be said of Mendelssohn that \u201che had nothing to say,\nbut said it like a gentleman.\u201d To that I may add the observation of\none of my own teachers: \u201cWhen Mendelssohn couldn\u2019t think of anything\nelse to say, he said his prayers.\u201d Is it surprising that the England of\nThackeray adored him? To Mendelssohn and Schumann we owe the fashion\nof what used to be called \u201ccharacteristic pieces\u201d\u2015\u2015quasi-pictorial\nexploitations of certain idioms which at once established themselves\nas universally recognizable conventions both of technique and of\nsentiment\u2015\u2015all those \u201chunting songs,\u201d \u201cspinning songs,\u201d barcarolles,\ncradle songs, wedding marches and funeral marches. At this distance of\ntime they may have the charm of old-world refinement. But considered\nhistorically, what they brought into music was a multitude of insincere\n_clich\u00e9s_. Mendelssohn and Schumann are themselves remembered for\ntheir very genuine merits. The style which they represented was\nabsorbed into the work of followers whom it is equally impossible to\nforget as well as into that of the innumerable hundreds of purely\ncommercial composers. Romantic _clich\u00e9_ reached its apotheosis in the\nsymphonic monstrosities of Gustav Mahler. But between Mendelssohn\nand Mahler there came others\u2015\u2015worthy in some ways of our deepest and\nsincerest respect\u2015\u2015who from their own high seriousness became victims\nof the impressive platitude. Ethical fervour led them only too fatally\ninto reverent pomposity.\n\nAll this false sentiment was diffused universally by the pianoforte;\nnot merely by the enormous multiplication of instruments and of\nperformers thereon, but by the intrinsic acoustical character of the\ninstrument itself. For the sound of the pianoforte cannot press onwards\nlike that of the voice, the wind instrument or the violin. That is why\n\u201chorizontal\u201d music is in reality impossible to it; the most it can do\nis to recall the memory of something heard before. It can do this with\nextraordinary subtlety. The sudden impact of the hammer on the string\ngives it even in its most delicate moments a far clearer articulation\nthan the voice or the singing instruments. Its whole art is an art of\nevasion, illusion and association. It was the ideal instrument for the\nromantic temperament. It suggested melody, it intensified harmony; it\nfalsified the values of both.\n\nThe pianoforte naturally attracted intelligent musicians of all grades\nbecause it seemed to place the whole of music within the grasp of two\nhands. Singing came to be regarded as something almost vulgar, the\nmore so since nature has not always distributed voices and brains in\nequal proportions. As the ethical view of music deepened, musicians\nof serious intention turned more to the stringed instruments than to\nthe human voice. The instruments could do so much more, they could run\nabout faster, they had in practice a cleaner accuracy of intonation\nand a more extended compass. It was easy to forget that after all they\nwere nothing more than instruments, and indeed the very fact that they\nwere instruments seemed to give them a magical character that appealed\nmysteriously to the romantic mind.\n\n\n\n\n                                  XI\n\n\nProfessor Weissmann has well pointed out that in the romantic days the\norchestra dominated music because it was made to represent the unseen\nsupernatural forces against which mere humanity struggled in vain.\nAnd the orchestra appealed to many sides of human temperament. It was\nthe appropriate instrument of an age of machinery, and mechanical\ninvention rapidly increased its powers. It appealed to the megalomania\nof certain types of genius, as well as to the philosophical worshipper\nof the infinite. It appealed to the plain man by its discipline, by its\npresentation of a number of nameless individuals doing the same thing\nat the same moment, and in later days\u2015\u2015now, perhaps, more than ever\nbefore\u2015\u2015by the sight of this huge force controlled and directed by the\napparent inspiration of the _virtuoso_ conductor.\n\nThe great singers, the few who have reached the highest summits of\nfame, have always wielded an incomparable power over their hearers.\nBut that very element of personality which gives the supreme singer\nhis greatness distracts the listener on any level but the highest.\nPersonality is a capricious thing, and in singing, more than in\nany other form of music, the listener\u2019s judgment is liable to be\ndistorted by temperamental considerations which have nothing to do\nwith art. In the case of the instrumentalist they can be more easily\nset aside. Personality is what human nature values more than anything\nelse in the artist. We see it at its plainest when a singer faces\nan unsophisticated public; when the public is less simple-minded\nand inexperienced, when the music put before it is less direct and\nimmediate in its expression, the judgment of personality may be\nmisleading, and may easily mislead artistic judgment. A vigorous\npersonality may delude the public into accepting bad music as good;\ncertain types of music, on the other hand, may falsify the judgment of\npersonality. These statements represent merely the obvious extremes;\nwhat must be remembered is that this interaction may vary subtly from\nmoment to moment even during the course of one piece of music.\n\nThe multiform appeal of orchestral music bewilders even those who\ndeliberately listen to it in an analytical frame of mind. The\ndifficulty is complicated by the luxuriant growth, during the last\nhundred years, of what is called \u201cprogramme-music\u201d\u2015\u2015music that sets\nout to describe or illustrate some idea that can be expressed, and\noften better expressed, in a literary or pictorial form. To dissect\nout and trace the history of all the means of emotional stimulus in\nsuch modern orchestral music as has become generally popular\u2015\u2015such\nnames as Wagner, Tchaikovsky, Richard Strauss, Elgar and Scriabin will\ngive a sufficient idea of the category\u2015\u2015would require a whole volume\nof highly technical analysis. Fortunately there are many music-lovers\nwho have heard enough music to grasp intuitively, if vaguely, certain\nprinciples, conventions and technical methods which they are unable\nto describe in words. They will recognize how \u201cpicturesqueness\u201d is\nachieved by the exploitation of conventional idioms: how these idioms\nevoke associations not merely with things outside music, but far more\nwidely with the recollection of music of past generations as familiar\nto them as it was to the composer who exploits it. They will recognize\nconventions of sound without sense\u2015\u2015strings of notes that perhaps\nonce had musical value but have now become mere formul\u00e6, rushing winds\nand roaring waves \u201cfull of sound and fury, and signifying nothing.\u201d\nThey would have learned also, one hopes, to mistrust the composers\nwho delude their audiences, perhaps delude themselves too, with a\nshimmering veil of indeterminate harmonies, and to mistrust no less\nthose who with an aggressive air of sincerity and directness assume the\nsolemn pose of mystery and chivalry.\n\n\n\n\n                                  XII\n\n\nThose who live on the outskirts of the world of music may say that they\ncannot get as much of it as they desire; those who are in the midst\nof it are painfully aware that they cannot escape the overwhelming\nflood. The commercialization of music has led to overproduction. This\nis apparent enough in England, where commercialization has fostered the\nspawning of a thoroughly degraded type; in Germany the over-production\nhas been a greater danger because the vast complexity of the musical\nindustry has encouraged respectable mediocrity. It is not to be\nwondered that plenty of musicians would be glad to make a clean sweep\nof all the music of the past and start fresh from the beginning. We\ncannot; it is a hopeless delusion. Even if we could make the clean\nsweep, we are still men of the twentieth century; we cannot return,\nfor just one aspect of our lives and that perhaps the most direct\nand immediate, to primitive savagery. Civilization has forced us to\nremember what we ought in the nature of things to have forgotten.\nCommercialism has always been only too glad to throw dust in our eyes\nwith the pretence of culture. We tell people that they ought to know\nand love their musical classics. Being out of copyright, they can be\nreprinted cheaply. Teachers find it least troublesome to teach what\nthey have always taught; concert-givers play what they have always\nplayed\u2015\u2015it is the safest thing and requires the least rehearsal and\nstudy. The casual listener loves the \u201cdear familiar strain.\u201d It is not\nas if people knew their classics intimately in a scholarly way. And\nthe scholar is easily tempted into false judgments under the itch for\nresearch. Old music has its interest for the musical anatomist, but\nfrom an artistic point of view most of it is much better forgotten.\n\nThere are some who sadly deplore the popularization of the classics on\nthe ground that they risk being desecrated. Why not? If some unlettered\nperson goes into a cinema, hears a fragment of the _Unfinished\nSymphony_ for the first time and receives a new thrill, surely it is\nall to the good, at any rate for him. If others feel that the vulgar\nassociations of the cinema have destroyed the music\u2019s beauty for them,\nlet them have done with it, throw it away as a worn-out thing and\nturn to something else. We may reasonably say that people who are\nthe prey of their unwilling associations, unable to view a work of\nart with detachment, do not deserve to experience artistic enjoyment;\nbut at the same time we should do well to admit frankly that music\nwhich cannot survive momentary degradation (and all things connected\nwith music are and must be merely momentary) is not worth preserving\nand reproducing. When we consider the innermost nature of music it is\nsurprising that any of it should survive for more than a generation.\nSome has survived for less, some for far more; but that is no reason\nwhy it should survive for ever. Occasionally some work of a remoter age\nis exhumed and seems to have a new significance for us after having\nbeen forgotten for centuries. But its significance is what our own age\nputs into it. That is one of the advantages of dealing in the art of\nthe past; we can do what we like with it. The art of the present, if it\nhas any vitality, compels us to submit our minds to itself.\n\nThe present age revolts from the music of the past century because\nof its insincerity and pretentiousness. Musicians of the older\ngeneration will repudiate this charge with indignation. The criticism\nis indeed a very summary one, and the man of to-day, if pressed with\ncross-questioning, may probably be induced to admit a good many single\nexceptions to his universal condemnation. But technical analysis will\nshow that there is a sounder basis for modern criticism than mere\ncaprice of youthful iconoclasm. The wealth of harmonic resource which\nthe nineteenth century built up was derived, as has been shown, to a\nlarge extent from associations, some extra-musical, some intra-musical,\nsome derived from literary or pictorial ideas, some depending on\nrecollections of previous music. These two categories interact on\neach other again and again, so that it is not easy to separate them\nout clearly. Like a system of monetary wealth, the wealth of western\nmusic has become largely a paper currency and with the realization of\nthis fact values have in many cases become suddenly depreciated. It\nmay be urged that music as an art has derived enormous benefit from\nthe tendency to widen the scope of its significance, from its closer\nalliance with other intellectual activities and from the deepening\nconviction of its ethical influence. Is it not childish, it may be\nasked, for us deliberately to throw away all that we have gained and\nrevert to a condition of music in which it shall be at best a mere\nentertainment or possibly no more than a physiological stimulus of\ndangerous passions?\n\nThe lofty idealism of Beethoven and certain of those who came after\nhim, both composers and interpreters, is a thing which we cannot\npossibly deny or ignore; but we may justly question whether the\nartistic expression of it is still convincing to modern ears. That\nnoble and visionary idealism, in its ardent insistence on the\nspiritual, tended more and more to suggest that the reality of music\nlay not so much in the actual sounds perceived by the physical ear\nas in the relations between them, in sounds\u2015\u2015or rather in relations\nbetween sounds\u2015\u2015never actually heard at all, but induced in the\nperceptive faculty by association. The works of Beethoven\u2019s third\nperiod often seem to lead us into a metaphysical labyrinth. But\nphilosophical language is apt to degenerate into a jargon, and\nphilosophical music, when it is the product of lesser minds than\nBeethoven\u2019s, into platitudinous rigmarole.\n\n    \u201cFiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee.\u201d\n\nSwinburne\u2019s parody has its musical application too. The classical\nkey-system of Rameau and Bach established a tradition that was academic\nin the most honourable sense of the word. It won too much respect.\nIt had the symmetrical logic of the heroic couplet in poetry. We can\nsee how in literature the austere reverence for the great academic\ntradition inevitably petrifies poetry into what discreet reviewers call\n\u201cscholarly verse.\u201d Music followed an analogous course. By the irony of\nfate the music of the last century, when it was designed to edify, has\nbecome vapid and tedious; what has survived, quaintly artificial though\nits freshness may be, is the music that was made only for ephemeral\nentertainment. _La Belle H\u00e9l\u00e8ne_ has outlived _Les B\u00e9atitudes_.\n\n\n\n\n                                 XIII\n\n\nIt is quite untrue to say that the music of to-day is predominantly\nfrivolous. The modern composer might well reply that even for those\nwho cling to the ideals of the past there are plenty of old-world\nfrivolities that have triumphed over their contemporary solemnities.\nThe devotees of Haydn, Mozart and Cimarosa easily forget that all these\nthree wrote music of deeply serious character and that it was chiefly\ntheir serious music which won the respect of their own audiences.\nThere is not even anything new in the modern composer\u2019s occasional\nhabit of making a fool of his critics. But the jokes of the old\ncomposers, like those of Aristophanes, often require the elucidation\nof learned commentators, whereas in our own day the newspapers provide\nthe needful commentary, sometimes before the musician makes his joke.\nThe \u201cverbal h\u00e6morrhage\u201d\u2015\u2015as it has been appropriately called\u2015\u2015of\nmusical journalism is responsible for most of the deliberate silliness\nrecently perpetrated by composers, who in these days are fully alive\nto the value of publicity. Music of this type is as ephemeral as the\ncriticism which it is designed to provoke. At the same time it is\nperfectly reasonable that modern composers should occupy themselves in\nan artistic spirit with modern dance-forms. They may well take their\nplace in musical history just as the waltz, the minuet, the pavan and\nthe galliard have done.\n\nWeakness of inspiration is more evident in the tendency to play\nmodern tricks with old forms and old styles. The sham antique suite\nof nineteenth-century drawing-room music is one of the products\nof the past which are now beneath even ridicule; the contemporary\npractice of taking a theme which suggests some commonplace of Bach or\nHaydn and treating it to a development which suggests an orchestra\nof amateurs reading at sight from badly copied parts may fulfil some\nuseful function in making the idolatry of the classics ridiculous,\nbut as contributing to the expression of contemporary thought its\nvalue is purely negative. There is enough criticism of music already\nwithout that which is written in notes. It is natural enough that young\ncomposers should wish to shock the respectable and it is very good for\nthe respectable to be shocked. Music which is intentionally destructive\nmay help to clear the ground and sweep away some of the romantic\nrubbish that still encumbers the minds of us who listen. But the\ncomposers must be careful not to forget that the listeners will be only\ntoo glad to return to the fleshpots of sentimentality if the prophets\nof the new generation can give them nothing but emetics with which to\nassuage their hunger.\n\nA characteristic of modern music which often baffles the listener of\nan older generation is its abruptness. There are various causes which\ncontribute to this. Abruptness of expression is characteristic of our\ntime; it is the mark of our speech as well as of our music. Abruptness\nis often deliberately assumed by composers as a protest\u2015\u2015perhaps\nsuperfluous\u2015\u2015against the ceremonial formalities of the older music.\nIt is sometimes even a new form of sentimentalism, a cult of the\nmysteriously fragmentary, a continuation of the example set once or\ntwice by Schumann. And in very many cases it is due to the examples\nof the painters, who have little scruples about exhibiting sketches\nwhich are studies of particular technical problems. A great deal of\nmodern music is sketchy for the simple reason that a great many new\ntechnical problems have arisen and it is both interesting and necessary\nto make studies of them in isolation. The publication of such studies\nmay often help other people to understand what the artist is trying to\nachieve, whether in paint or in sounds. It is the museum habit and the\nastuteness of the picture-dealer which have combined to make the public\nattribute to these things an exaggerated value, for financial values\neasily become confused with moral ones. In the case of musical studies\nof this type it is perhaps more often the composer who attaches the\nexaggerated value and the public that is disappointed at not obtaining\nit.\n\nThe most frequent accusation brought against modern music is that\nit is devoid of melody. It is an accusation which has been made for\nat least a hundred years. When it is made to-day the modern musician\nmay point out that many of the most advanced teachers of composition\ninsist on their pupils practising the composition of real independent\nmelodies, that is, of melodies which do not depend on an implied\nharmony. The ordinary lover of melody is hardly capable of realizing\nwhat this means, and the most gifted pupils generally find it an\nunexpectedly severe discipline. What the plain man understands by a\ntune is a melody in simple and obvious rhythm; and he is by now so\naccustomed to the classical key-system that its conventional stresses\nautomatically suggest\u2015\u2015even if only half consciously\u2015\u2015the conventional\nharmonic relations, with the result that he is quite willing to accept\nas a tune a succession of notes which in reality is often meaningless\nwhen considered as a pure melody. Our popular hymn-books will provide\nplenty of examples. The rejection of the classical key-system makes\nthis type of melody impossible, and one of the chief reasons why the\npresent age has rejected the classical key-system is because it is\nseeking new and more supple rhythms for its melodic line.\n\nAnother favourite accusation, expressed in different ways by different\npeople, and to most people curiously difficult of expression, may\nbe generally formulated by saying that modern music is devoid of\nfeeling, or even that it stimulates and appeals to feelings which are\nunpleasant or even morally repugnant. My attempt to put this charge\ninto a few words is unreasonable, I admit, but I think it more or less\nrepresents the attitude of a large number of people whose conduct is\nguided more frequently by good feeling than by conscious reasoning.\nSuch people feel instinctively that music, more than anything else,\nis or ought to be a matter of instinctive feeling. As music-lovers,\nthey are exactly the people who are most completely under the spell of\nassociation. But as I have already attempted to show, it is just this\ntyranny of association against which the leaders of new movements most\nenergetically rebel. In time they or their successors will accumulate\na new store of associations; for the present they are compelled and\nindeed anxious to do without them altogether. If the older listeners\npersist in attaching unpleasant associations to the new music, it is\nthe listeners\u2019 own fault; it is they who by force of habit provide\nthose associations out of their own good feeling.\n\n\n\n\n                                  XIV\n\n\nIt is by no means the first time that musicians have tried to \u201creturn\nto nature,\u201d but the difficulty of going back to a state of primitive\nsavagery presumably becomes greater as civilization becomes more\nelaborate. The enthronement of idiocy may for a moment be amusing\nbut it soon becomes tiresome; these two favourite epithets of musical\njournalism are not without their appropriateness. Nevertheless it\nis only common sense frankly to face the fact that music is made up\nin the first instance of physical sounds. The metaphysical attitude\ntowards music has given us the last quartets of Beethoven, but in the\ngeneral practice of music it has done much to lower our standards of\nperformance, especially in the matter of singing; indeed among singers\nwho have deservedly obtained a reputation for high musicianship and\nintelligence those purely vocal qualities on which the emotional power\nof the voice in the first instance depends are in all countries only\ntoo often conspicuous by their absence. Instrumental music has been\naffected hardly less.\n\nIt is difficult for the musician who has been trained on the classical\nsystem to adapt himself to this new point of view. He feels inevitably\nthat he is being asked to lower his intellectual standards. He has\nbuilt them up by the application of a lifetime; they have brought him\nhis most precious experiences and he feels that to desert them is\nan act of disloyalty to his most cherished ideals. It is one of the\nconsolations of increasing years that our intellectual appreciations\nare deepened; at any rate we like to think so. But we have regretfully\nto admit that increasing years are apt to bring a blunted sense of\nemotional values. Our direct impressions are less vivid, our capacity\nfor enthusiasm shrinks. Before it is altogether too late, before we\nlose all sensitive response to the stimulus of musical sound, it\nmay perhaps be wise to relax our austerity of principle and allow\nourselves to enjoy the primary pleasure of sound as we once did naked\nand unashamed. It might yet be the beginning of a genuinely new and\ndelightful experience if we would risk the adventure.\n\nAll art, after all, is an adventure. In the art of the past the things\nwhich directly move our \u00e6sthetic emotions are the moments of adventure,\nthe moments at which we join the artist in perceiving intuitively and\ndirectly something which we know to be artistically true and beautiful\nalthough it is not consistent with the conventional principles on\nwhich the art is based. As culture ripens and art becomes a recognized\nand definite part of our spiritual life, conventions are codified and\nsystematized. In music the classical key system provides us with an\nobvious example. We acquire the habit of applying our intellectual and\nreasoning faculties to it. But our \u00e6sthetic emotions are not stirred\nuntil we are thrown into contact with the irrational. The irrational in\nthis case does not imply utter intellectual chaos and anarchy any more\nthan it does in mathematics or metaphysics. The mathematician perceives\na new truth intuitively by an act of imagination, but it is of no use\nto him until he can prove it by reason; yet reason is of no use to him\nunless he has creative imagination as well. This imaginative plunge\ninto the irrational is what produces a number of common and elementary\nphysical pleasures, such as the child\u2019s first attempt to walk and such\ndiversions as swimming, riding a bicycle and flying, although all\nthese processes very soon become rational and indeed automatic. We\nhave analogous adventures in the world of art from the beginning. We\nmay say that music is to speech as swimming is to walking. The mind\nvery soon regularizes the new experiences, but the fascination of the\narts is that they are always offering us the chance of further ones.\nWe do not enjoy music as an art until we have learned to appreciate it\nrationally; but at the same time it cannot give us a real \u00e6sthetic\nemotion unless it confronts us forcibly with a further irrational\nelement.\n\nIt is this irrational reaction which causes us still to be stirred by\nthe music of the past. We listen to a quartet of Mozart; we recognize\na familiar convention, we are easily set back into a past cultural\nperiod in which Mozart\u2019s language was the language of the day. We\nunderstand every phrase, and we may even run the risk of being bored.\nSuddenly Mozart does something which the average music-maker of his\nday would not have done; we are thrown off our rational balance, we\nhave to apprehend directly and intuitively. Our minds have to make some\nunfamiliar movement just as our bodies may in certain circumstances\nhave to make some movement incompatible with normal equilibrium. In\nthe case of bodily movements practical experience and a knowledge\nof mathematics may subsequently show that this unfamiliar movement\nis really just as reasonable as walking. Something of the same kind\nhappens in our artistic experience too. Even Mozart may cease to\ninterest us. The once unfamiliar experience becomes automatic, the new\nharmony becomes a _clich\u00e9_.\n\nThere need not really be anything so very terrifying about the\nabandonment of the classical system. After all, we can always go back\nto it when we feel inclined, just as we may take up Dante and return to\nmediaeval astronomy. The lurking fear which besets us is perhaps that\nif we abandoned ourselves to the artistic adventure of modern music we\nmight find, not merely that we did not particularly enjoy it, but that\nsomehow it had made it impossible for us to go back wholeheartedly to\nthe music of our youth. It is impossible. Everybody has to ask himself\nthe question and answer it for himself honestly\u2015\u2015am I ready and keen\nto face fresh intellectual adventures? As age increases, increasing\nvanity has to be taken into account. We elderly people are easily prone\nto deceive ourselves and to think that we can convince others of the\ndoctrine that connoisseurship is an adequate substitute for direct\nenjoyment.\n\n\n\n\n                                  XV\n\n\nSome of the composers of the present day appear to be pursuing\nadventure in a definitely intellectual spirit comparable almost to\nthat of the mediaeval Netherlanders. Their admirers often seem to be\nsomewhat at a loss to expound their music to the uninitiated. They\ndraw our attention to various technical ingenuities and they insist,\nno doubt justly, on the entire sincerity of the composers. As regards\nsincerity, it is a virtue with which art has no concern. As regards\ntechnical ingenuities, we have learned too many lessons from the\npast. There are many devices which look quite amusing on paper, but\nwhich in practical performance pass unnoticed. To this the composer\nmay reasonably reply that the perception and enjoyment of technical\ningenuities in performance is a matter of practice and experience;\nthere is no reason why he should compose music for fools. Ingenuity is\nby no means a quality to be despised; there are innumerable moments\nin the works of Purcell, Bach and Mozart at which technical ingenuity\nhas brought about some peculiarly poignant expression of beauty.\nConstructive skill\u2015\u2015and this is what is really meant by the musician\u2019s\ntechnical word _form_\u2015\u2015is what makes music an art; and constructive\nskill has to be attained by study and experiment. It is desirable too\nthat listeners should be trained in its appreciation, not so much by\nbooks and lectures as by the actual experience of hearing.\n\nThe composers to whom I have alluded assume in their hearers a long\nexperience of music in general and also something of that habit of mind\npreviously mentioned which tends to regard music less as a series of\nactual sounds than as a series of relations between sounds. It may be\ncalled a mathematical conception of music, and, like mathematics, it\nsoon comes to deal with irrational quantities. It is an interesting\nquestion how far the human mind can advance in this direction. To\ncertain temperaments music of this type is definitely repulsive; but\nthey often feel no less repulsion towards mathematics and philosophy,\nstudies which have been closely associated with music from very early\ntimes. We must however beware of being misled by superficial criticism\ninto supposing that the understanding of such musical complexities\nrequires a practical knowledge of mathematical or philosophical\ntechnicalities. In the scientific study of musical \u00e6sthetics there\nultimately arise problems which bring all three branches of learning\ninto contact; but in common practice they do not affect either the\ncomposer or the listener. There are writers on music who make use of a\nphilosophical jargon to conceal their incapacity for clear thinking;\nbut the truly philosophical habit of mind aims, if but with rare\nsuccess, at lucidity.\n\nThe practical value of this \u201cmathematical\u201d system of composition lies\nnot so much in its employment of technical devices which were practised\nsome five hundred years ago, as in its new method of handling them.\nIt was a great moment in the history of music when someone first\ndiscovered that two different tunes could be sung simultaneously\nand thereby produce harmony. The artistic result of this proceeding\ndepended on two factors which had to be brought into relation\u2015\u2015the\ninterest of each tune considered by itself, that is, the driving force\nwhich made it perceptible as a continuous tune, and, secondly, the\nsatisfaction derived from the consonance of the two voices where it\nhappened to occur. At one period the interest of the tune predominated,\nat another it was sacrificed to the interest of consonance. Both\ninterests are however subject to changes of value in the course of\ntime. It is clear enough that such composers as Purcell, Bach and\nMozart were deeply interested in the problem of exploiting these two\ninterests, and of finding out how far the driving force of a tune could\ninduce the listener to put up with dissonant harmony. We can see now,\nat this distance of time, that they positively increased the value of\nthe harmonic interest by the way in which they deliberately tortured\nthe ear of the sensitive listener of their own time. Our ears have\nbecome not less but more sensitive to dissonance, more able at any\nrate to discriminate between varieties of it. But, as I have already\nindicated, this preoccupation with harmony and with relations between\nsounds has led to an indifference towards the actual sounds themselves,\nand the loss of interest in the actual sounds has certainly brought\nwith it a diminished appreciation of melody. This is clear, not from\nthe complaints directed against the unmelodiousness of modern music,\nbut from the common inability to appreciate the emotional force of\nmelody as it was conceived by composers of two hundred years ago and\nmore, composers who undoubtedly were intensely preoccupied with pure\nmelodic expression.\n\nCertain modern composers are devoting themselves to the same fundamental\nproblem that interested Purcell, Bach and Mozart\u2015\u2015how far the inherent\nforce of melody can carry the listener over the obstacles of dissonance.\nIt is not for me to attempt to measure the force of the actual melodies\nwhich they write. This force, too, is curiously complicated by problems\ninvolving various qualities of sound. The harshness of a dissonance may\nbe mitigated or aggravated according to the instruments which produce\nit, and modern musicians are devoting much care to the minuter shades of\nwhat are sometimes called \u201ccolour-values.\u201d The name is misleading, like\nall expressions which tempt the reader to apply to music the critical\nmethods appropriate to painting. It has been suggested that music is now\nmoving towards a phase in which \u201ccolour-values\u201d will be the principal\nmeans of expression. The experiment may be tried, and it may well\ncontribute something useful towards the stock of artistic material. What\nthis movement really signifies is nothing more than a subtilization of\nalready recognized harmonic values, for from the point of view of\nacoustics it is impossible to draw any clear distinction between what\nis perceived as a \u201ctone-colour\u201d and what is perceived as a \u201cchord.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                  XVI\n\n\nThe mechanical inventions of recent years have provided us with\nincreased facilities for the diffusion of music. The present era may\ncome to be regarded as similar in historical importance to those which\nfirst benefited by the invention of the stave and by the invention\nof music-printing. To some extent these changes represent merely the\nadaptation of practical conditions to the increase in population. But\nwhereas the invention of the stave and the invention of music-printing\nmust in all probability have increased the number of persons who\ncould read music at sight, the modern reproductive machinery cannot\ndo more than increase the number of those who confine themselves to\nlistening. It remains to be seen what proportion of those who acquire\nthe habit of listening will be stimulated to learn something of the\nart of performing. We hear much of the enthusiasm for music amongst\n\u201cthe masses.\u201d Apparently they are now singing Bach, whereas their\ngrandparents sang Handel; does it make much difference?\n\nIt is said that modern music has lost contact with \u201cthe people.\u201d Had\nit ever any contact with them, if by \u201cthe people\u201d is meant those whose\nmusical education is not more than elementary? By all means let us do\nour utmost to raise the standard of musical education in all classes\nof society; but we cannot get away from the fact that at all periods\nof musical history the music which really made that history was in its\nown day the possession only of a limited circle of highly cultivated\nenthusiasts. This is inevitable. The moment we recognize music to be\nan art and not merely the instrument of magic we have to apply our\nintellectual faculties to the understanding of it. Architects and\npainters complain bitterly enough of the public\u2019s unwillingness to meet\nthem halfway. For the musician the case is still worse; the practical\ndifficulty of grasping a piece of music in the transitory moment of\nperformance is one reason, and another is the intensity with which\nmusical sounds act upon human emotions. It is small wonder if large\nnumbers of people still regard music as almost magical.\n\nIt is the remnant of these primitive beliefs which leads so many\nserious-minded and otherwise reasonable persons to take an apprehensive\nview of modern music, even though they may consider themselves more\nenlightened than those who view the music of all ages with moral\napprehension. The danger, if it exists now, has always existed; people\nhave always feared that which they do not understand.\n\n\u201cIt is difficult,\u201d says Dr. Burney of Plato, \u201cto refrain from numbering\nthis philosopher, together with Aristotle, Aristoxenus and Plutarch,\nthough such illustrious characters, and, in other particulars, such\nexcellent writers, among the musical Grumblers and _Croakers_ of\nantiquity. They all equally lament the loss of good music, without\nconsidering that every age had, probably, done the same, whether right\nor wrong, from the beginning of the world; always throwing musical\nperfection into times remote from their own, as a thing never to be\nknown but by tradition. The Golden Age had not its name from those who\nlived in it.\u201d\n\n\n                   *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n\n \u2015\u2015Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).\n\n \u2015\u2015Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.\n\n \u2015\u2015Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.\n\n \u2015\u2015Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.","title":"Terpander; or, Music and the future","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":14917}