ong ones? Answer: _Love
me and the World is Mine_ is a short song (although it seldom sounds
so) while Schubert's _C major Symphony_ is called the "symphony of
heavenly length."

Is what is new better than what is old? Is what is old better than
what is new? Schoenberg is new; is he therefor to be considered better
than Beethoven? Stravinsky is new; is he therefor to be considered
worse than Liszt?

Is an opera better than a song? Compare _Pagliacci_ and Strauss's
_Standchen_. Is a string quartet better than a piece for the piano?
But I grow weary.... Under the circumstances it would seem that if you
have any strong opinions about music you are perfectly entitled to
them, for the critics do not agree and you will find many of them
basing their criticism on some of the various hypotheses I have
advanced. H. T. Finck tells us that the sonata form is illogical,
forgetting perhaps that once it served its purpose; Jean Marnold
dubbed _Armide_ an _oeuvre batarde_; John F. Runciman called
_Parsifal_ "decrepit stuff," while Ernest Newman assures us that it
is "marvellous"; Pierre Lalo and Philip Hale disagree on the subject
of Debussy's _La Mer_ while W. J. Henderson and James Huneker wrangle
over Richard Strauss's _Don Quixote_.

The clue to the whole matter lies in a short phrase: Imitative work is
always bad. Music that tries to be something that something else has
been may be thrown aside as worthless. It will not endure although it
may sometimes please the zanies and jackoclocks of a generation. The
critic, therefor, who comes nearest to the heart of the matter, is he
who, either through instinct or familiarity with the various phenomena
of music, is able to judge of a work's originality. There must be
individuality in new music to make it worthy of our attention, and
that, after all is all that matters. For the tiniest folk-song often
persists in the hearts and minds of the people, often stirs the pulse
of a musician, pursuing its tuneful way through two centuries, while a
mighty thundering symphony of the same period may lie dead and
rotting, food for the Niptus Hololencus and the Blatta Germanica. We
still sing _The Old Folks At Home_ and _Le Cycle du Vin_ but we have
laid aside _Di Tanti Palpiti_. Any piece of music possessing the
certain magic power of individuality is of value, it matters not
whether it be symphony or song, opera or dance. What most critics
have forgotten is that in Music matter, form, and idea a