ies should
have made plain two definite facts: first, that the real message of
music is contained in its melody--that part of the fabric which we can
carry with us and sing to ourselves. Harmony and color are factors
closely involved with melodic inspiration, but their impression is
more fleeting; and in general, no work lacking in melody, however
colorful or filled with daring harmonic effects, can long endure. But
we must be judicious and fair in estimating exactly what constitutes a
real melody. The genius is always ahead of his time; if he thought
just as other men, he would be no genius. New types of melody are
continually being worked out; all we can say is that the creative
composer hears sounds in his imagination, the result of his emotional
and spiritual experiences and of his sympathy with the world. He
recreates these sounds in terms of notation, hoping that, as they mean
so much to him, they may be a delight and inspiration to his
fellowmen. If enough people like these works for a long enough time,
they _are_; that is, they live--no matter how much they differ from _a
priori_ standards as to what music should be.

The second fact concerns the structure of music; that is, the way in
which the thought is presented. We have seen that music always has a
carefully planned architecture--that being necessary by reason of the
indefiniteness of the material. But let us always remember that
without abandoning the fundamental principles of all organic life,
form may be--and should be--free and elastic. Every work which lives
reveals a perfect balance between the emotional and imaginative
factors and their logical presentation. If we are puzzled by the
structure of a new work the assumption should be, not that it is
formless but that, when we know the work, it will be seen to employ
simply a new use of old and accepted principles; for the works
analyzed must have convinced us that the principles of unity,
contrast, balance and symmetry are eternal; and, however modified, can
never be abandoned. The normal imagination must express itself
logically, and can no more put forth incoherent works than the human
body would give birth to misshapen offspring. Musical compositions,
which after study prove to be incoherent, diffuse and flabby, are to
be considered exceptional and not worth condemning; they are only to
be pitied. The chief aim of the music-lover should be to become an
intelligent and enthusiastic appreciator of the