makes a person grow
sour-minded: and incidentally it also makes him grow sour-visaged. It is
frequently possible to tell a man's philosophy from his countenance.
Those whose efforts are devoted to preaching a violent discontent seem
to run to type, acquiring a discontented kind of countenance to match
their views. Equally so a person whose outlook is more balanced, and
whose character is gentler, will gradually inscribe a finer type of
characteristic both in mind and body. The case is very much the same
with Art. Those to whom Art stands for beauty and love must necessarily
be building themselves of their thoughts, and so be tending towards
their ideal. Thus so far as music becomes the expression of spirit and
love, so far its influence upon the individual is permanent and
progressive in these directions.

Apparent exceptions will at once spring to mind, and we may ask why
musicians as a class do not stand out specifically as more spiritual
than their fellows. There are many reasons. Not all musicians pursue
their calling with insight and understanding: mere perfunctory
performance has the effect of influencing in the direction of the
commonplace and the casual, and music is never the sole influence at
work, and not always the chief. The character is the result, on balance,
of ALL the forces that have played their part, just as the annual
balance on profit and loss account represents the net result of all the
transactions that have taken place. Unless the spiritual forces at work
in an individual's life outweigh the material, the net result will still
be on the side of the latter, even though he may have had music in his
soul.

When we look at the adolescent of to-day, particularly the town-bred
youth of from sixteen to twenty years, we may well ask what opportunity
he gets for the expression of any theme of beauty, or for any
impression of the like. The mind has a kind of breathing motion, as have
the lungs: it takes in, stores up and assimilates, and then expresses.
Education must allow for both processes. But our youthful friend has
left school, and is probably engaged in some more or less strenuous work
which brings him into the closest contact with grown men. From these he
derives most of his inspiration: much of it is highly coloured, and some
of it is certainly degrading. He does not read, and so knows nothing of
the inspiration of literature, and the past is to him a closed book. He
comes across nothing artis