unsatisfied, to rest and marvel not, to stay, on this unsubstantial
show of peace and security, the aching and wondering will.



December 4, 1888.


Writing, like music, ought to have two dimensions--a horizontal
movement of melody, a perpendicular depth of tone. A person
unskilled in music can only recognise a single horizontal movement,
an air. One who is a little more skilled can recognise the
composition of a chord. A real musician can read a score
horizontally, with all its contrasting and combining melodies.
Sometimes one gets, in writing, a piece of horizontal structure, a
firm and majestic melody, with but little harmony. Such are the
great spare, strong stories of the old world. Modern writing tends
to lay much more emphasis upon depth of colour, and the danger
there is that such writing may become a mere structureless
modulation, The perfect combination is to get firm structure,
sparingly and economically enriched by colour, but colour always
subordinated to structure. When I was young I undervalued structure
and overvalued colour; but it was a good training in a way, because
I learned to appreciate the vital necessity of structure, and I
learnt the command of harmony. What is it that gives structure? It
is firm and clear intellectual conception, the grasp of form and
proportion; while colour is given by depth and richness of
personality, by power of perception, and still more by the power of
fusing perception with personality. The important thing here is
that the thing perceived and felt should not simply be registered