Chapter XXV: Introduction (3)

_Tones that accord_ in the fullest sense, and on hearing which a distinction is not perceptible as opposition, are those in the case of which the numerical relation of their vibrations is of the _simplest_ character; those on the contrary which are not so out and out accordant possess proportionate numbers more _complex._ As an example of the first kind we have _octaves._ In other words, if we tune a string, where we shall have the keynote given us by a definite number of vibrations, and then halve the same; in that case this second half will give us in the same time precisely the same number of vibrations as the previous entire string[447]. Similarly in the case of _fifths_ we have _three_ vibrations to two of the keynote; in the case of _thirds_ we have _five_ to _four_ of the keynote. In the case of seconds and sevenths we have a different kind of proportion; here to _eight_ vibrations of the keynote we have in the former case _nine_ and in the latter _fifteen._

(_ββ_) Inasmuch then--we have already referred to this--as these relations cannot be posited as we like, but disclose an ideal necessity for their particular aspects[448], no less than the totality they together constitute, for the like reason the particular intervals, which are fixed by such numerical relations, do not persist in their relation of indifference to each other, but are inevitably comprised together in and as a whole. The first form of this totality of notes thus created is, however, as yet no _concrete_ concord of different notes, but an entirely abstract series of a system, a series of notes related under the most elementary mode to each other, and their position within the totality thus comprised. This is no other than the simple series of notes known as scales. The fundamental basis of this is the tonic, which repeats itself in its octave, and is extended through the remaining six notes placed between these limits, which by virtue of the fact that the keynote directly falls into unison with its octave makes a return upon itself. The remaining notes of the scale either harmonize completely[449] with the keynote, as is the case with the fifth and the third, or possess a more fundamental distinction of sound in conflict with it, as is the case with seconds and sevenths, and take their place consequently in a definite series, which, however, I do not now propose to discuss or explain further.

(_γγ_) _Thirdly_, in these scales we find the source of different _keys._ In other words, every note of the scale can, in its turn, be posited as the keynote of a fresh series of notes, which is co-ordinated precisely as the first is. With the development of the scale through an increase of notes the number of keys has correspondingly increased. Modern music avails itself of a larger variety of keys than that of the ancients. Further, inasmuch as generally the different notes of the scales, as already observed, are related to one another in unobstructed harmony, or a relation that deviates from such immediacy in a more fundamental way, it follows that the different series which arise from these notes, taken severally as keynotes, either display a closer relation of affinity, and consequently permit of a passage readily from one to another, or, on account of their alien character, do not so admit of this. Add to this that the keys are divided from each other by the distinction of hardness and softness, that is, as major or minor tonality; in conclusion they possess, in virtue of their key-note, from which they are generated, a definite character, which of itself responds to a particular kind of emotion, such as lamentation, joy, mourning, and so forth. In this particular even writers in ancient times have anticipated much on the subject of distinction between the keys, and applied their theory in many ways to actual composition.

(_γ_) The _third_ important matter, with the discussion of which we may conclude our brief remarks upon the theory of harmony, is concerned with the simultaneous concord of the notes themselves, in other words, the _system of chords._

(_αα_) We have no doubt already seen that the intervals constitute a whole; this totality, however, is in the first instance comprised in the scales and the keys merely in the form of an associated series, in the succession whereof each note is asserted separately in isolation. In consequence the tonal sound remained abstract, because we find here that it is only one particular and determinate tone that is asserted. In so far, however, as the notes in fact are what they are[450] merely in virtue of their relation to one another, it follows necessarily that their tonal modality should attain also an existence as this concrete body of tone itself, in other words different notes will have to coalesce in one and the same body of tone. In this conjoint fusion, in the composition of which, however, the mere number of notes capable of such coalescence is not the essential point, for we may have a unity of this kind with merely two[451], we possess our definition of _chords._ For inasmuch as the different notes are not definable for what they are as a result of caprice or chance, but are necessarily regulated by virtue of an ideal principle and co-ordinated in their actual succession, it follows that a regularity of similar character will have to declare itself in the chords, in order that we may determine what kind of associations will be adapted to musical composition, and what on the contrary must be excluded. It is these rules which first give us the theory of harmony in the full sense; and it is according to this we find again that the chords are embraced in an essentially regulated system.

(_ββ_) In this system chords are particularized and distinguished in their passage from one to another, inasmuch as it is clearly _defined_ notes which thus sound together. We have consequently to consider as an immediate fact a totality of separately distinguishable chords. In attempting the most general classification of these we shall find that the original distinctions we cursorily alluded to in our discussion of intervals, scales, and keys will once again serve us.

In other words the _first_ kind of chords are those in which notes come together, which are completely consonant. In the musical effect of these consequently there is no opposition, no contradiction perceptible; the consonance remains completely undisturbed. Such is the case in the so-called _consonant_ chords, the foundation of which is supplied by the _triad._ This confessedly is generated from the key-note, the third, the mediant[452] and the fifth or dominant. In these we find the notion of harmony expressed in its simplest form, or rather the intrinsic idea of harmony generally. For we have a totality of distinct notes under consideration, which assert this distinction while they also declare an undisturbed unity.

We have here an immediate identity, which moreover is not without the element of separation and mediation, albeit this mediation is not at the same time limited by the self-subsistency of different tones[453], satisfied with the mere transitional passage from one note to another in the relation of a series, but the unity is here an actual one and a return in immediacy upon itself.

But in the _second_ place we may observe as a further incident of distinct types of the triad, which I cannot now examine in more detail, the deliberate appearance of a deeper mode of opposition. We have, however, already at an earlier stage seen that the scales contain over and above those notes, which coalesce without opposition, others which annul such consonance. Examples of these are the diminished and augmented seventh. Inasmuch as these notes equally belong to the totality of tones, they too will necessarily find an entrance into the triad form. And when this happens it follows that the immediate unity and consonance above mentioned is disturbed, to the extent that we have added a tone essentially of another character, by means of which for the first time we meet with a _genuine difference_ which actually asserts itself as contradiction. In this way we have the true depth of musical tone really asserted. It proceeds to contradictions that are fundamental and does not flinch from the acerbity[454] or fracture they involve. And, in fact, the notion in its truth is no doubt essential unity; but it is not only immediate unity, but one which ideally is disrupt, which falls into contradictions. In this sense I have for example in my Logic developed the notion as subjectivity, but at the same time disclosed how this subjectivity, as ideal transparent unity, is resolved in that which confronts it in opposition, namely, objectivity. And further such subjectivity regarded as itself wholly ideal is nothing more than a one-sided and abstract presentment of it, which as such retains a something else, an opposed other over against it, namely, objectivity, and only becomes subjectivity in the profounder significance of its truth, in so far as it enters into this opposing other-than-itself, overcomes it and resolves it. And for this reason in the world of reality it is to the higher natures that power is given to endure the pain of that fundamental contradiction of conscious life and to overcome it. In order that music therefore may as an art express the ideal significance no less than purely subjective emotion of the profoundest content, that of religion for example, and above all that of the Christian religion, in which the profoundest depth of suffering is an essential constituent, it must possess the means within its empire of tone to depict such a conflict of opposing forces. And a means of this kind it does possess in the so-called dissonant chords of the seventh and ninth[455]. The function of these, however, I cannot venture further to discuss here.

Looking, however, from a general point of view at the nature of these chords I would draw attention to the _further_ important point, that they hold what is contradictory, under the mode of contradiction already explained, in one and the same unity. That, however, what is contradictory as such should remain in unity is a contradiction in terms and unintelligible. The very nature and notion of a contradiction assumes that assured repose in it and what it implies is impossible. On the contrary it is as such self-destructive. Harmony is therefore unable to remain in chords of this character; our ear and feeling, in order to obtain satisfaction, imperatively demands their resolution. To the extent of this contradiction we are inevitably impelled to seek a _resolution_ of dissonance and a return to the consonant triad. And this motion, as the return of the principle of identity upon itself, is the movement of truth in the widest sense. In the art of music, however, this completed identity is only possible as a succession of its moments in time, which appears consequently as a series, but declares its collective dependence in this that a necessary movement of an advance, which is essentially self-caused and a movement of change belonging to its very nature, is thereby asserted.

(_γγ_) And this suggests a _third_ point it may be as well to draw attention to. In other words just as the scale was an essentially co-ordinate, albeit in the first instance still abstract series of tones, so too the chords do not persist in their isolation and self-consistency, but possess an ideal relation to one another, and a necessary impulse to change and progress. In this advance, although the same can be changed and extended to a far more considerable extent than in the scales, yet again mere caprice is not more possible in the one case than the other. The transition of chord to chord is effected in part by the nature of the chords themselves, and in part by the keys, to which these chords lead us. It is in virtue of this that the theory of music has established many rules, to enumerate and adequately explain which would, however, extend our survey into much too difficult and discursive matters. I must therefore rest content with having confined myself to a few observations of most general interest.

(_c_) _Melody_

Taking now a glance in retrospect on that which, as connected with the means of musical expression, has already engaged our attention, it will be seen that first in order came the mode of configuration appropriate to the _temporal_ duration of tones considered as time-measure, beat, and rhythm. We then proceeded to discuss the _actual tones_ of musical sound themselves; _first_, that is to say, in the sound produced by musical instruments and the human voice; _secondly_, in the fixed and determinate measure of the intervals, and the abstract succession of notes that are subject to them in the scale and the various keys; _thirdly_, in the rules which appertain to the different chords and their conjoint progression. The concluding subject, which still remains for us to consider, and in which those previous to it discover their synthetic unity, and disclose in the same the fundamental form by virtue of which tones are for the first time in veritable freedom and union unfolded and coordinated, is _melody._

In other words, harmony possesses merely the essential relations, which establish the law of necessity in the world of tone; but these are not in themselves, any more than beat and rhythm are, actually music: they are rather the substantive basis, the foundation of rule and principle, upon which the soul in its freedom expatiates. The poetry of music, that speech of human souls, which pours forth the ideal atmosphere and the pain of emotional life, and in this overflow is raised with a sense of alleviation above the natural constraint of feeling, by making present to the soul that which actually affects it strongly; by enabling it freely to dally round its essential being, and by liberating it by this very means from the oppression of joys and sufferings--well, this power of soul-expression in the domain of music is in the first instance melody[456]. It is this concluding section of our inquiry, in so far as it constitutes the more supremely poetic aspect of music, the realm of its really artistic creations, while availing itself of the elements previously discussed, which obviously possesses an exceptional claim to our attention. Unfortunately it is just in this direction that we find ourselves confronted with the difficulties already adverted to. In other words, to mention one of them, a detailed and scientific treatment of the subject implies a more accurate knowledge of the laws of composition, and a totally different sort of acquaintance with the masterpieces of musical composition to any I possess or indeed am able to secure, for we seldom hear anything of a definite or conclusive character on this head either from musical experts or practical musicians, from the latter, only too frequently men of very average intelligence, least of all. And we may further observe that it is a characteristic of the art of music itself, that we should find the task of presenting and expounding particular detail in general terms a less easy matter than in the case of the other arts. It is true enough that music, as other arts, deals essentially with a spiritual content, and propounds the ideality of this subject-matter, or the ideal movements of emotional life, as the object of its expression: yet for all that this content remains more indefinite in outline and more vague, for just this very reason that it is apprehended with exclusive regard to its ideality, or is reflected in sound as subjective feeling; and the transitional states of music are not in each case at the same time the change of a particular emotion or idea, a thought or an individual form, but are merely a musical progression, which consists in self-exposition or play, and avails itself of artistic method for this purpose. I will consequently limit myself merely to the following general observations, which have fallen in my way and strike me as of interest.

(_α_) From a certain point of view, no doubt, melody, in its free disclosure of musical tone, floats independent of beat, rhythm, and harmony; but none the less the only means employed in its realization are just these rhythmical and metrically constructed movements of tone in their essentially necessary relations. The movement of melody, therefore, is inseparable from the means employed to create it, and, if merely opposed to the practical necessity of the subjection of these means to rule, is unable to exist at all. In this intimate association between melody and harmony, however, no real surrender of freedom is involved: what melody is thus emancipated from is a purely capricious fancy of the composer exercised in odd or eccentric progressions and transitions. It is united by this very association to a stable and self-consistent art. Genuine liberty is not opposed to the principle of necessity as a foreign and therefore oppressive and suppressive power; rather it possesses in the substantive character of the same what is a constituent of and identical with the core of its being; in following the demands of it it therefore is only conforming to its own laws, acting in accordance with its own nature. And in fact it is by the rejection of such proscriptions and only then that it proves an alien to its nature, untrue to itself. Conversely, it is sufficiently obvious that beat, rhythm, and harmony are, taken independently, merely abstractions, which as thus isolated have no musical[457] significance, and are able only to acquire real existence as music in virtue of melody, and as within the domain of this, supplying moments to or aspects in its realization. It is precisely in the manner that the distinction between melody and harmony is thus effectively mediated and resolved that the secret power of great compositions is disclosed.

(_β_)_Secondly_, in this question of the _individual_ character of melody the following points appear to me of importance.

(_αα_) In the _first_ place, melody may be restricted, if we consider its harmonious progression, to a very simple compass of chords and keys, extended within the embrace of tone-relations destitute of all opposition in their harmonious fusion, which it employs merely as the fundamental ground on which to develop its more appropriate form and movement. Song melodies, for instance, which be it understood are not on that account in the least superficial, but may express the depths of soul-life, as a rule are motived by constructive harmony of this most simple character. They do not propound the more difficult problems of chords and keys in so far as they deal with such things and their modulation at all. They are mainly satisfied with obtaining a simple harmonious accompaniment, which is not carried to the point of serious opposition, and consequently requires few resolutions in order to recover the final impression of unity. Such a mode of composition no doubt may lead to superficial results, such as we find in a great many modern Italian and French melodies. In such cases the development of the harmony is entirely superficial. The composer endeavours to substitute for the genuine demand of his work in this aspect of it a merely piquant charm of rhythm or flavour of some kind. Generally speaking, none the less the emptiness of a melody is not the inevitable result of a simple harmonic basis.

(_ββ_) A further distinction consists in this that melody in the case supposed is no longer developed, as in our previous example, merely in the exposition of separate notes composed upon a relatively independent harmonic progression, regarded simply as the base of it: in the melody now under consideration every separate note of the melody is substantially complete as a concrete whole In a chord. In this manner it, on the one hand, includes a world of tones, and from another it is so closely interwoven with the movement of the harmony, that it is now impossible to retain the distinction previously accepted between a melody unfolded in relative independence, and a harmony which supplies the emphatic pauses of the accompaniment and its more fixed and determinate musical basis. Harmony and melody are here one and the same compact whole, and a modification of the one implies a correspondent and necessary alteration of the other[458]. This may be pre-eminently illustrated by chorales written in four parts. In like manner the same melody can be so interwoven in the varied vocal expression of its parts, that this interlacery itself creates a harmonic progression; or we may have different melodies in a similar way elaborated harmonically in association, so that the union of particular notes of these melodies produces musical harmony. We often, for example, meet with this in the compositions of Sebastian Bach. In such cases the music progresses by means of parts that vary greatly from one another in their character and movement, which appear to associate or inter-thread with each other on independent lines, yet retain at the same time an essential harmonic relation to each other. A necessary and coherent union is thereby asserted.

(_γγ_) In composition of this kind it is not merely necessary for music which has any claim to profundity to be developed to the bare limits of undisturbed consonance, nay, even first to pass beyond it in order that it may return thereto: rather the first simple mode of concord will have to be rent asunder in dissonances. It is only through such conflict that the profounder combinations and mysteries of music in which an independent necessity reposes, discovers their source and ground; and for the same reason it is only in such profounder harmonic progressions that the arresting moments of melody originate. A bold style of musical composition will consequently part company with a purely consonant progression. It will pass into the sphere of opposing forces, will summon to its aid the most discordant contrasts, and disclose its unique power amid the tumult of all the resources of harmony, the conflicts of which it is equally able to calm, wholly confident in its ability to celebrate finally the grateful triumph of melodic tranquillity. We have in short here a battle waged between freedom and necessity; a conflict between the freedom of inventive genius, seeking to yield itself to its upward flight, and the necessary constraint of those harmonic conditions, which it is forced to acknowledge as the means of its expression, and in which its own ideal significance is reflected. On the other hand if the harmony, the employment, that is, of all its resources, the unrelenting nature of its conflict in the disposal of them and in its attitude to them is the main interest, the composition may very easily become heavy and overweighted with science, in so far at least as the freedom of movement is really impaired, or at least we are not allowed to feel the complete effect of its triumph.

(_γ_) To put the matter in other words, in every genuine melody a truly melodic, songful impulse, which is its essential type as music, must declare itself as predominant and independent, as something which it neither forgets nor loses in the plenitude of its expression. Thus regarded melody presents, no doubt, an infinite power of adaptation and coordination in the progressive motion of tones, but the mode or form of this must be such that throughout we are made aware of an essentially complete and self-subsistent whole. This totality contains, it is true, a varied complexity, and implies in itself a forward advance; but it must for all that, regarded as a whole, be beyond all doubt rounded off and secure. It must therefore have a distinct beginning and termination to the extent at least that the intermediate part of it may be simply presented as the mediating link between that beginning and end. Only as such a movement, asserted with unmistakable emphasis, itself self-differentiated and returning on its own unity, does the melody of music reflect the free self-consciousness[459] of soul-life, whose expression it ought to be; only as thus perfected can music, in its own peculiar medium of ideality, enforce expression in its pure immediacy, or avail itself of the ideal freedom of that mode of expression which is the untarnished reflection of the inner life, an expression which, despite its subordination to the necessary laws of harmony, enables the soul to perceive a more exalted vision.

3. THE RELATION BETWEEN MEANS OF EXPRESSION IN MUSIC AND ITS CONTENT

After passing in review the general nature of musical art we considered the particular aspects according to which notes and their duration in time secured their necessary form. Having now arrived in our discussion of melody at the confines of a world of free artistic invention and actual musical composition, what we have now to deal with is a _content_, which, under its rhythm, harmony, and melody, is capable of receiving an expression conformable to art's requirements. After fixing clearly in our minds general modes of this expression we shall as our conclusion be in an advantageous position to review the different provinces of musical composition. With these objects before us we may in the first instance advert to the following important distinction.

On the one side music may be, as already observed, in the nature of an _accompaniment._ This is the case where its spiritual content is not merely seized in the abstract ideality of its significance, or as individual emotion, but enters into the movement of the music subordinate to the significance it has already received from idea and words. As a type of music opposed to this we have the composition which is disconnected with any such content already prepared for it; music in this case establishes itself in its own proper sphere, so that it either, if it still is forced to deal with a definitely received content, resolves the same wholly in melodies and their harmonic development, or asserts its _absolute independence_ in the medium of musical tone simply and its harmonic or melodic configuration. We have already seen that a similar distinction is apparent in a wholly different section of our inquiry. I refer to the case of architecture considered either as an independent art, or in the service it renders to that of building generally. But in music the mode of its accompaniment is of an essentially freer type than that of our illustration; it is far more intimately united with its content than is ever possible in the case of architecture.

In the actual domain of art this distinction marks the difference between _vocal_ and _instrumental_ music. We are not, however, entitled to accept it in the purely external interpretation of it, as though in vocal music it was merely the sound of the human voice, while in instrumental music it was the more varied tones of the many distinct instruments which were made serviceable. We must not in other words overlook the fact that the voice expresses at the same time in its song deliberate speech, presenting us the ideas of a specific content, so that music, regarded as the _word that is sung_, if the twofold aspect of the same in tone and human speech is not to fall into a condition of indifference or absence of relation, is obviously bound, so far as the art enables it to do so, to supply its musical expression to this _content_, which as such _content_ is brought before the receptive faculties in its nearest approach to definition, and no longer is left unrelated in more indefinite feeling. In so far, however, as the presented content, as libretto, is, despite of the above union, independently ascertainable in legible form, and is also consequently distinguishable in the mind itself from its musical expression, to this extent the music attached to a libretto is an _accompaniment_, whereas in sculpture and painting the unfolded content does not already attain to any presentment independently of its artistic form. At the same time we must be careful not to go to the other extreme and entertain an idea of such accompaniment, as though its entire purpose were one solely of subordination; the truth is precisely the reverse. The libretto is written in the interest of the music, and has no further importance save in so far as it brings home to the mind a more intimate knowledge of the actual subject the artist has selected for his work. Music maintains this freedom pre-eminently by virtue of the fact that it does not apprehend the content in the manner the libretto may be assumed to make it intelligible. Rather it exhibits its mastery of a medium, to which sense-perception and imaginative idea do not belong[460]. In this respect I have already, when discussing the general characteristics of music, pointed out that music expresses the principle of ideality in its intrinsic quality. The ideality of soul-life, however, may be of a _twofold_ type. That is to say, to accept an object in its _ideal presentation_[461] may, in the first place, mean that we do not conceive it in its actual appearance in the phenomenal world, but relatively to its _ideal significance._ We may, however, mean by this, secondly, that a content is expressed as we find it realized in the experience of personal _emotion._ Both forms of idealization are represented in the art of music. I will therefore endeavour to explain in more detail how this comes about.

In old church music, take the movement of a _crucifixus est_ for example, we find that the profound meanings unfolded in the central idea of the Passion regarded as Christ's suffering, death, and burial, are severally so conceived, that it is not simply one merely _personal_ feeling of sympathy or individual pain over these facts that is expressed, but along with this the very facts themselves, or in other words the depth of their significance is motived by the harmony of the music and its melodic progression. It is, of course, true that even here the impression is one which acts upon the emotion of those who hear it. We do not actually _perceive_ the pain of the crucified, we do not merely receive a general _idea_ of it; the aim is throughout that we experience in the depths of our being the ideal substance of this death and this divine suffering, that we absorb with heart and soul its reality, so that it becomes as it were a part of ourselves, permeating our entire conscious life to the exclusion of everything else. And in like manner must the soul of the composer, if his work is to disclose such a power of impress upon others, entirely lose itself in these facts and only in them. It must not merely have experienced a personal emotion of them. It must accept as its aim the task of making in its music the facts themselves live again for the ideal sense.

Conversely, I may read a text, a libretto, which narrates an event, places before me an action, gives to feelings the impress of speech, and thereby become moved even to tears in my profoundest being. This effect of _personal_ emotion, which may attend all human action and conduct, every expression of inner life, and further may be excited by the perception of every such event and by participation in the presentment of such, the art of music is able to regulate; by so doing it ameliorates, tranquilizes and idealizes by its influence the fellow-feeling in the listener who finds himself attuned to it. In both cases, therefore, the content rings through the inner life, in which music, for the very reason that it subdues consciousness in the simple attitude of rapt attention[462], is able to restrain the unfettered range of thought, imagination, sensation, and passage beyond the true boundary-line of the subject on hand. Music, in short, keeps the soul absorbed in a particular content, fructifies its energy therein, and moves and fills the life of feeling up to the brim within these limits.

Such is our conception and description, so far as the present occasion permits, of the manner of which music, as an accompaniment, when dealing with a definite content which is, as previously explained, set before it by means of a libretto, elaborates that aspect of it we have termed ideality. Inasmuch, however, as music is pre-eminently called up to do this in vocal music, and the human voice is added to this associated with instruments, it is customary to speak of instrumental music in a special sense as the music of accompaniment. It is no doubt true that it accompanies the voice, and should not either assert unqualified independence or claim an unqualified precedency. But for all that vocal music is placed, as thus associated, in a more direct relation still under the definition previously given of an accompanying tone. The voice expresses words articulate to the mind; and song is merely a fresh or additional modification of the content of these words, or in other words it is the explication of them in the language of the emotions. In the case of instrumental music, if taken by itself, the expression of imaged idea vanishes, and such music must necessarily confine itself to the means and modes of purely musical expression[463].

The discussion of these points suggests a _third_ one, which, in conclusion, it is well not to overlook. I have previously drawn attention to the fact that the reality of a musical composition, in its full and vital embodiment, depends on a continually repeated reproduction. In this respect it is at a disadvantage as compared with sculpture and painting. The sculptor, no less than the painter, conceives a given work and executes it throughout. The entire artistic activity implied therein is centred in one single individual, and by this means absolute reciprocity between the creative idea and its execution is secured. The architect, on the contrary, is in a less favourable position, who, in carrying through all the variety of structure in a building, has to entrust such work to other hands than his own. The composer in a similar way, must leave the execution of his work to other hands and voices. But in his case there is this difference, that the execution, from the point of view of mere technique, no less than that of the vital spirit of his work, itself demands an artistic activity, not one of mere craftsmanship. In this respect we may in our own time, no less than previously in that of the older Italian opera, whereas in other arts there has been little or nothing fresh of the kind, point to a marvellous advance in two respects in music. The first is to be noted in the conception, the second in the increased virtuosity of execution. It is due to these results the very notion of what music implies and is able to perform has, even in the case of acknowledged experts, been increasingly enlarged[464].

We may now briefly summarize the heads of the concluding sections of this portion of our work.

_First_, we shall investigate more carefully music regarded as _accompaniment_, and raise the question with what modes of expression in a given content it is as a rule most compatible.

_Secondly_, it will be necessary to consider this question more closely as viewed in relation to musical composition that is _exclusively independent._

_Thirdly_, our conclusion will be reached with a few observations upon artistic _execution._

(_a_) _Music as Accompaniment_

It follows, as a necessary result of what I have already described as being the relative position of libretto and music, that, in this sphere of its activity, musical expression is compelled to concern itself far more exclusively with a defined content than in the alternative case where it is able to surrender itself without restraint to its own movement and inspiration. A libretto offers us to start with definite ideas, and compels the attention to forsake that field of more visionary emotion destitute of distinct idea, in which we are permitted to range without interruption, and are not forced to abandon our licence to receive from pure music whatever chance impression or wave of emotion it may arouse. In this act of artistic interlacery with words, however, it is not right that music should carry its loyalty so far as to impair the free course of its progressions, even though it do so with the object of emphasizing the full character of what is contained in the libretto. To do this is to employ the mere pedantry of learning, to adapt means of musical expression for the most faithful presentment possible of a content which is not in the first instance its own, but supplied it externally. It is to accept this artificial result rather than the creation of a real self-subsistent work of art. And to that extent we have here evidenced a definite check and hindrance to free artistic activity. It is equally wrong in the opposite extreme that music should, as is almost invariably the fashion with modern Italian composers, wholly emancipate itself from the contents of the libretto, as though its specific character were only a bond, and with no other aim than that of approaching independent music as closely as possible. The true function of such music is this. It ought to steep itself in the meaning of the expressed words, situation, or action, and by virtue of such impregnation, ideally conceived, discover therefrom a vitally arresting expression, and elaborate the same in terms congenial to art. That is the course followed by all great masters. They appropriate everything of vital interest in the words; but the stream of their music, the tranquil flow of the composition, remains for all that as free as ever. We acknowledge the natural growth of the music no less than its affinity to the text it illustrates. We would draw attention to _three_ distinct types of expression all illustrative of this free spirit.

(_α_) To start with, there is that aspect of musical expression which we may describe as the truly _melodic._ We have here simply emotion, the utterance of soul itself, which, apart from anything else, finds self-enjoyment in such expression.

(_αα_) The domain here, in which the composer moves, is coincident with the human heart and the moods of the soul; and melody, which is the pure musical utterance of this inward world, is in the most profound sense the soul of music. Musical tone only attains to expression that is really vital when emotion is embodied in it or reflected in sound from it. Connected with this the purely natural cry of feeling, whatever it may be, of horror, for example, or the sobbing of grief, or the exclamation or outburst of uncontrolled jubilation, are themselves highly expressive; and indeed I have already referred to them as the starting-point of music, subject of course to the statement that art is unable to accept them under the mode of purely natural utterance. Here, too, we find a distinction between music and painting. The art of painting is frequently able to produce the most beautiful and artistic effect by its realization in every respect of the actual form, the colour and animation of a particular human being in some definite situation and environment, and its complete reflection of all that it has thus assimilated and received in its bare vitality. The truth of Nature, if presented conformably to artistic truth, is here entirely justified. But the art of music ought not thus to repeat emotional expression in the form it assumes as a purely natural utterance of passion; what it should do is to vitalize with the emotional forces musical sound elaborated under the definite conditions of its tonal progression, and to this extent resolve the expression in a medium of sound wholly created by art and inseparable from the artistic purpose, a medium in which the mere cry becomes a series of musical tones with a definite progression, the transitions and course of which are subject to the laws of harmony and unfolded in the completeness of a melodic phrase.

(_ββ_) The essential significance of this melodic quality and its bearing on the human spirit is best apprehended if we view the latter as a whole. The fine arts of sculpture and painting give an objective existence to the ideality of soul-life; moreover, they liberate the mind from this externality of their presentation in so far as, from a certain point of view, it discovers itself therein as an ideal, spiritual work, and from another everything which partakes of adventitious singularity[465], of capricious idea, opinion, and reflection, is rejected, the content thereof being placed before us in its entirely appropriate individuality. The art of music, on the contrary, as we have repeatedly pointed out, possesses as a means to such objectivity merely the element of the soul-life itself, by means of which that which purely belongs to this enters into conversation with itself, and as expressed in the utterance of emotion itself returns, as it were, upon itself. Music is spirit or soul, which ring forth in their untrammelled immediacy, and derive satisfaction in this record of their self-knowledge. As a fine art, however, it is its necessary function to regulate the expression of such life no less than its effects. It ought not to permit that expression to be whirled away in bacchantic thunder and tumult, or be left in the distraction of despair, but retain the blessed freedom of its deliverance in the extremity of sorrow no less than the jubilant outburst of delight. And this is the character of truly ideal music, the utterance of melody such as we find it in Palestrina, Durante, Lotti, Pergolese, Glück, Haydn, and Mozart. Tranquillity of soul is never lost in the compositions of these masters. Grief is no doubt often expressed, but the resolution is always there; the luminous sense of proportion never breaks down in extremes: everything finds its due place knit together in the whole; joy is never suffered to degenerate into unseemly uproar and even lamentation carries with it the most benign repose. I have already, when discussing Italian painting, emphasized the fact, that a spirit of reconciliation is not wanting even in extreme examples of sorrow and distraction of soul; by virtue of this, even where we have tears and suffering, some trait of tranquillity and assurance is preserved; the tenderness and grace which assert themselves in the harlequin's rôle illustrates the same truth. In like manner a feeling for nature and the endowment of musical expression is preeminently a characteristic of the Italians. In their earlier church music we find that, along with the deepest devotional feeling, the sense of reconciliation is expressed in its purity; and though grief may stir the soul most profoundly, yet beauty and rapturous joy, the simple greatness and impress of an imagination which discovers delight in its own varied expatiation, is equally present. It is a beauty of an apparently sensuous type, so that it is not unusual to refer to such melodious contentment as a purely sensuous enjoyment. But it is sometimes overlooked that it is precisely in this realm of the senses that art discovers its life and movement, and thereby transfers Spirit to a sphere in which, as in the world of Nature, this essential wave of self-satisfaction is throughout the fundamental tone.

(_γγ_) Albeit, therefore, _particularity_ of emotional content must be duly represented, yet it is right that music, while permitting passion and imagination to stream forth in its harmonies, should at the same time lift the soul that is absorbed in such emotion over the same, enable it to hover around such content, and in short create an atmosphere wherein the recovery from such an absorption, and the pure reflection of itself is possible. This it is which gives us in fact the really melodious character to song-music. The important feature of it is not merely the progression of determinate emotion such as we indicate by the words love, yearning, jollity, and so forth; it is rather that inward sense, which presides over it, which expatiates in its suffering no less than its delight, and finds satisfaction in doing so. Precisely as the bird in the brake, the lark on high sings its glad and touching song for the mere sake of singing, an outburst of Nature herself, having no further thought or intention whatever, it is just the same with human song and the expression of its melody. Consistently with this not infrequently Italian music, in which this truth is pre-eminently emphasized, will, just as poetry will, pass into mere melodious sound simply, and can readily appear to part company with the emotional stimulus and its particular mode of expression, or even in fact do so, for the very good reason that its object is the enjoyment of art by itself, and the contentment of all who thus are able to enjoy themselves. And apart from the Italians this is more or less the characteristic of all right melody. The specific nature of the expression, albeit present also, passes away, in so far as our hearts are absorbed in what we appropriate rather as our own, than in that which belongs to another, a something beyond us. By reason of this and this alone--it is much as we receive the impression of pure light--we are admitted to the most intimate conception of ideal blessedness and attuned spirits.

(_β_) In the art of sculpture the predominant impression is ideal beauty or self-repose. Painting, on the other hand, already presents a movement in the direction of specific characterization, and the emphasis it attaches to articulate expression is an essential feature of its executive purpose. In a similar fashion the art of music is unable to rest satisfied with melodious expression as above indicated. The purely emotional grasp by the soul of its intrinsic nature, and the play in musical sound of this apprehension is, regarded as the mere atonement of mood, when we take it strictly, too general and abstract. It is inseparable from the danger not merely of an alienation from the more careful interpretation of the content expressed in the libretto, but of that of becoming generally empty and trivial. If sorrow, joy, yearning, and so forth are to find adequate reflection in melody, the soul that is actual and concrete only comes by such emotions in the downright reality of the same as involved in a veritable content, that is, in particular situations, events, actions, and so on. If, for example, a song arouses the emotion of mourning, the lament at a loss, we inevitably ask ourselves, what is the nature of that loss. Is it, shall we say, the loss of life with all its many interests? Is it a loss of youth, happiness, wife, beloved, children, friends, or anything else? For this reason it is further incumbent upon music that it should of itself differentiate in like manner its mode of expression when dealing with a _specific_ content and the _various relations_ and situations, which the soul has experienced, and the more ideal or intimate life of which it seeks to reflect in its harmonies. Music in short is not primarily concerned with the bare form of the inward soul, but with that innermost life as replenished, the specific content of which is most closely related to the particular character of the emotion roused, so that the mode of the expression will, or should, inevitably assert itself with essential differences, according to the varied nature of the content. In a similar way the soul, precisely in the degree that it takes a headlong plunge into any distracting experience, proceeds through an accumulating series of effects, and, in opposition to our previously described state of benign self-contentment, passes through conflicts and distraction, wrestlings with passions, and in short reaches an extreme of division, for which the mode of expression hitherto observed is no longer adequate.

Now what we mean by the detail of the content is just that which is supplied by the _libretto_ or words. In the case of a simple melody, which is less concerned with this specific character, the more defined characteristics of the _libretto_ are appreciably of less importance. A song, for instance, although it essentially implies as a poem and text a whole of variedly motived moods, perceptions, and ideas, none the less as a rule asserts throughout one fundamental progression of emotion; it is primarily one chord of the soul that it emphasizes. To grasp this, and to reflect the same in the language of music, this is what such song-melody is mainly called upon to do. Consequently we may have identically the same music through all the verses of our poem, although the meaning they carry admits of much variety; and what is more, this very repetition, so far from proving injurious to the effect, may serve to enforce and enhance it. We may see the same thing in a landscape, where, too, the most varied objects confront the vision, and yet for all that the prevailing mood and aspect of Nature, which animates the whole, is one and the same. It is just such a prevailing tone that ought to assert itself in the song, and this, though it only applies strictly to some of the verses, but does not so apply to others; and the reason of this is that here the specific sense of the words is not to be taken as of most importance. What comes first is the simple melody that floats freely over all variety of content. In the case of many compositions which infringe this principle, and which start every fresh verse with a novel melody, which not unfrequently varies from the preceding one in beat, rhythm, and even scale, it is quite impossible to understand why, if such essential modifications were really inevitable, the poem itself ought not to have been altered in metre, rhythm, and rhyme, through all its verses.

(_αα_) What is, however, appropriate for the song, which is a genuine melodious utterance of the soul, is not applicable to every kind of musical expression. It is necessary, therefore, to draw attention to a _further_ aspect in contrast to pure melody as such, one of equal importance, and by virtue of which alone song is really brought into line with accompanying music. We find this in that mode of expression which is dominant in the _recitative._ Here we have no independently exclusive melody, which at the same time reflects the fundamental mood of the content, in the elaboration of which soul-life, as at home with itself, receives back in musical sound some portion of its ideal activity; rather in the case before us the content of the words, to the full compass of its specific character, is imprinted upon the musical expression, the import of which no less than the course it determines; and this is so whether we regard it from the point of view of the elevation or profundity which distinguishes it, or the prominence or subordination of its particular features. By such means music, as contrasted with melodic expression, approximates to an emphatic declamation, one accurately corresponding with the movement of the words, whether the view we take of them be that of their meaning, or that of their syntactical arrangement. And in so far as it adds also, as a novel element, the aspect of a more exalted emotion, it stands midway between the pure melody and poetical speech. Conformably to such a station, therefore, we have a free accentuation, which adheres strenuously to the specific sense of particular words. Moreover it is not necessary for the libretto in this case to be written in any particular metre, nor need the musical exposition, as the pure melody does in a like case, follow beat and rhythm with absolute precision; rather the music under this condition of it, that is in its acceleration, suspension, or pause in particular progressions, or rapid passage over such, is entitled to adapt itself freely to the emotion aroused by the meaning of the words. For the same reason the modulation is not so restricted as in the case of melody. Precisely as the text which it attempts to express may suggest, it may begin, proceed, pause, break off, begin again, or stop with absolute licence. Unexpected accents, progressions only partially mediated, sudden transitions and resolutions are equally permissible; and, in direct contrast to the continuous stream of melodious music, provided always that the libretto's content requires it, this latter mode of expression is equally in its place, though delivered in fragments, and torn asunder by passionate emotion.