naturally showed itself in music before the words for emotion came, the common, everyday nouns were sought for in this new language.  The madrigals of Weelkes and their word painting show this, and the same occur in instrumental music, as in Byrd’s “Carman’s Whistle,” one of the earliest English instrumental works contemporaneous to the madrigals of Morley and others.  In France, many of the earliest clavichord pieces were of the programme type, and even in Germany, where instrumental music ran practically in the same groove with church music, the same tendency showed itself.

I have given the forms of most of the old dances, and also the elements of melodic structure (motive, phrase, etc.).  I must, however, add the caution that this material is to be accepted in a general way, and as representing the rhythms and forms most frequently used.  A French courante differed from the Italian, and certain dances were taken at different tempi in different countries.  Poor, or at least careless construction, is often the cause of much confusion.  Scarlatti, for instance, is especially loose in melodic structure.

It was only with Beethoven that the art of musical design showed anything like complete comprehension by the composer.  Until then, with occasional almost haphazard successes, the art of pushing a thought to its logical conclusion was seemingly unknown.  An emotional passage now and then would often betray deep feeling, but the thought would almost invariably be lost in the telling, for the simple reason that the musical sentences were put together almost at random, mere stress of momentary emotion being seemingly the only guiding influence.  Bach stands alone; his sense of design was inherent, but, owing to the contrapuntal tendency of his time, his feeling for melodic design is often overshadowed, and even rendered impossible by the complex web of his music.  With a number of melodies sounding together, their individual emotional development becomes necessarily difficult to emphasize.

Bach’s art has something akin to that of Palestrina.  They both stand alone in the history of the world, but the latter belongs to the Middle Ages.  He is the direct descendant of Ambrose, Gregory, Notker, Tutilo, etc., the crowning monument of the Roman Church in music, and represents what may be termed unemotional music.  His art was untouched by the strange, suggestive colours of modern harmony; it was pure, unemotional, and serene.  One instinctively thinks of Bach, on the other hand, as a kind of musical reflection of Protestantism.  His was not a secluded art which lifted its head high above the multitude; it was rather the palpable outpouring of a great heart.  Bach also represents all the pent-up feeling which until then had longed in vain for utterance, and had there been any canvas for him to paint on (to use a poor simile), the result would have been still more marvellous.  As it was, the material at his disposal