that the intellectual
process shall go? This book being for the untrained, the question
might be put thus: With how little knowledge of the science can an
intelligent listener get along? We are concerned only with his
enjoyment of music or, better, with an effort to increase it without
asking him to become a musician. If he is fond of the art it is more
than likely that the capacity to discriminate sufficiently to
recognize the elements out of which music is made has come to him
intuitively. Does he recognize that musical tones are related to each
other in respect of time and pitch? Then it shall not be difficult for
him to recognize the three elements on which music rests--Melody,
Harmony, and Rhythm. Can he recognize them with sufficient
distinctness to seize upon their manifestations while music is
sounding? Then memory shall come to the aid of discrimination, and he
shall be able to appreciate enough of design to point the way to a
true and lofty appreciation of the beautiful in music. The value of
memory is for obvious reasons very great in musical enjoyment. The
picture remains upon the wall, the book upon the library shelf. If we
have failed to grasp a detail at the first glance or reading, we need
but turn again to the picture or open the book anew. We may see the
picture in a changed light, or read the poem in a different mood, but
the outlines, colors, ideas are fixed for frequent and patient
perusal. Music goes out of existence with every performance, and must
be recreated at every hearing.

[Sidenote: _An intermediary necessary._]

Not only that, but in the case of all, so far as some forms are
concerned, and of all who are not practitioners in others, it is
necessary that there shall be an intermediary between the composer and
the listener. The written or printed notes are not music; they are
only signs which indicate to the performer what to do to call tones
into existence such as the composer had combined into an art-work in
his mind. The broadly trained musician can read the symbols; they stir
his imagination, and he hears the music in his imagination as the
composer heard it. But the untaught music-lover alone can get nothing
from the printed page; he must needs wait till some one else shall
again waken for him the

"Sound of a voice that is still."

[Sidenote: _The value of memory._]

This is one of the drawbacks which are bound up in the nature of
music; but it has ample compensation in the