But a brief formal statement of the old distinction between ‘romanticism’ and ‘classicism’ may be helpful in following the description of romantic music in the following chapters. For the terms have taken on some sort of precise meaning in their course down the centuries. Perhaps the chief distinction lies in the æsthetic theory concerning limits. The Greek temple and the Gothic cathedral are the standard examples. The Greek loved to work intensively on a specific problem, within definite and known limits, controlling every detail with his intelligence and achieving the utmost perfection possible to careful workmanship. The Greek temple is small in size, can be taken in at a glance; every line is clear and definitely terminated; details are limited in number and each has its reason for existing; the work is a unit and each part is a part of an organic whole. The mediæval workman, on the other hand, was impressed by the richness of a world which he by no means understood; he loved to see all sorts of things in the heavens above and the earth beneath and to express them in his art. Ruskin makes himself the apologist for the Gothic cathedral when he says: ‘Every beautiful detail added is so much richness gained for the whole.’ The mediæval cathedral, then, is an amazing aggregation of rich detail. Unity is a minor matter. The cathedral is never to be taken in at a glance. Its lines drive upward and vanish into space; it is filled with dark corners and mysterious designs. It is an attempt to pierce beyond limits and achieve something more universal. Here is the distinction, and it is more a matter of individual temperament than of historical action and reaction. The poise and control that come from working within pre-defined limits are the chief glory of the classical; the imagination and energy that come from trying to pass beyond limits are the chief charm of the romantic. Let us never expect to settle the controversy, for both elements exist in all artists, even in Berlioz. But let us try to understand how the artist feels toward each of these inspirations, and to see what, in each age, is the specific impulse toward one or the other. H. K. M. FOOTNOTES: [74] ‘Uhland’s Life,’ by his widow. [75] Heine: _Die romantische Schule._ [76] Wilhelm Langhans: ‘The History of Music,’ Eng. transl. by J. H. Cornell, 1886. [77] _Ibid._ [78] Fyffe: ‘History of Modern Europe’, Vol. I. [79] He was a pupil first of his stepbrother, Fridolin, of Heuschkel in Hildburghausen, of Michael Haydn in Salzburg (1797), of Kalcher in theory, and Valesi in singing. [80] Reinach’s ‘Apollo.’