es.

That his songs constitute almost a third of the entire bulk of his
work is not without significance; for his melodic gift is, probably,
the most notable possession of his art. His insistence upon the value
and importance of the _melos_ was, indeed, one of his cardinal tenets;
and he is, in his practice,--whether writing for the voice, for piano,
or for orchestra,--inveterately and frankly melodic: melodic with a
suppleness, a breadth, a freshness and spontaneity which are anything
but common in the typical music of our day. It is a curious experience
to turn from the music of such typical moderns as Loeffler and
Debussy, with its elusive melodic contours, its continual avoidance of
definite patterns, its passion for the esoteric and its horror of
direct communication, to the music of such a writer as MacDowell. For
he has accomplished the difficult and perilous feat of writing frankly
without obviousness, simply without triteness. His melodic outlines
are firm, clean-cut, apprehendable; but they are seldom commonplace in
design. His thematic substance at its best--in, say, the greater part
of the sonatas, the "Sea Pieces," the "Woodland Sketches," the "Four
Songs" of op. 56--has saliency, character, and often great beauty; and
even when it is not at its best--as in much of his writing up to his
opus 45--it has a spirit and colour that lift it securely above
mediocrity.

It must have already become evident to anyone who has followed this
essay at an exposition of MacDowell's art that his view of the
traditional musical forms is a liberal one. Which is briefly to say
that, although his application to his art of the fundamental
principles of musical design is deliberate and satisfying, he shares
the typical modern distaste for the classic forms. His four sonatas,
his two piano concertos, and his two "modern suites" for piano are his
only important adventures in the traditional instrumental moulds. The
catalogue of his works is innocent of any symphony, overture, string
quartet, or cantata. The major portion of his work is as elastic and
emancipated in form as it is unconfined in spirit. He preferred to
shape his inspiration upon the mould of a definite poetic concept,
rather than upon a constructive formula which was, for him, artificial
and anomalous. Even in his sonatas the classic prescription is altered
or abrogated at will in accordance with the requirements of the
underlying poetic idea.

CHAPTER IV