, fell
asunder into man and wife--became in other words _name and form_[A]
The two universal aspects of name and form are what philosophers call
the two "modes of consciousness," one of time, and the other of space.
These are the two gates through which ideas enter phenomenal life; the
two boxes, as it were, that contain all the toys with which we play.
Everything, were we only keen enough to perceive it, bears the mark of
one or the other of them, and may be classified accordingly. In such a
classification music is seen to be allied to time, and architecture to
space, because music is successive in its mode of manifestation, and
in time alone everything would occur successively, one thing following
another; while architecture, on the other hand, impresses itself upon
the beholder all at once, and in space alone all things would exist
simultaneously. Music, which is in time alone, without any relation to
space; and architecture, which is in space alone, without any relation
to time, are thus seen to stand at opposite ends of the art spectrum,
and to be, in a sense, the only "pure" arts, because in all the others
the elements of both time and space enter in varying proportion,
either actually or by implication. Poetry and the drama are allied to
music inasmuch as the ideas and images of which they are made up are
presented successively, yet these images are for the most part
forms of space. Sculpture on the other hand is clearly allied to
architecture, and so to space, but the element of _action_, suspended
though it be, affiliates it with the opposite or time pole. Painting
occupies a middle position, since in it space instead of being
actual has become ideal--three dimensions being expressed through
the mediumship of two--and time enters into it more largely than into
sculpture by reason of the greater ease with which complicated action
can be indicated: a picture being nearly always time arrested in
midcourse as it were--a moment transfixed.

In order to form a just conception of the relation between music and
architecture it is necessary that the two should be conceived of not
as standing at opposite ends of a series represented by a straight
line, but rather in juxtaposition, as in the ancient Egyptian symbol
of a serpent holding its tail in its mouth, the head in this case
corresponding to music, and the tail to architecture; in other words,
though in one sense they are the most-widely separated of the arts, in
an