“To that very simplicity am I disposed to refer the charm of ancient music,” said the vicar; “it was addressed to the _ear_, sir, whereas modern music is addressed to the _eye_; dexterity of execution is, now-a-days, more valued than beauty of composition; the sweetest shepherd that ever piped on his Doric reed, would be less applauded than he who can make his pipe squeak for the space of five minutes without respiration. The ancients knew better than to suffer the energy and accentuation of their rhythm to be so destroyed; and only mark, sir, the extreme jealousy with which they regarded every attempt to injure this simplicity; it even became a subject of legislation; and you no doubt remember the decree issued against Timotheus; which, as well as I recollect, ran thus, ‘Whereas Timotheus the Milesian, coming to our city, has dishonoured our ancient music, and despising the lyre of seven strings, has, by the introduction of a greater variety of notes, corrupted the ears of our youth; and, by the number of his strings and the novelty of his melody, has given to our music an effeminate and artificial dress, instead of the plain and orderly one in which it has hitherto appeared; rendering melody infamous, by composing in the chromatic, instead of the enharmonic. The kings and the ephori have, therefore, resolved to pass censure upon Timotheus for these things; and farther, to oblige him to cut all the superfluous strings of his _eleven_, leaving only the _seven_ tones, and to banish him from our city, that men may be warned for the future not to introduce into Sparta any unbecoming customs.’”