may be a feeling influenced by some experience perhaps of a
spiritual nature in the expression of which the intellect has
some part. "The nearer we get to the mere expression of emotion,"
says Professor Sturt in his "Philosophy of Art and Personality,"
"as in the antics of boys who have been promised a holiday, the
further we get away from art."

On the other hand is not all music, program-music,--is not pure
music, so called, representative in its essence? Is it not
program-music raised to the nth power or rather reduced to the
minus nth power? Where is the line to be drawn between the
expression of subjective and objective emotion? It is easier to
know what each is than when each becomes what it is. The
"Separateness of Art" theory--that art is not life but a
reflection of it--"that art is not vital to life but that life is
vital to it," does not help us. Nor does Thoreau who says not
that "life is art," but that "life is an art," which of course is
a different thing than the foregoing. Tolstoi is even more
helpless to himself and to us. For he eliminates further. From
his definition of art we may learn little more than that a kick
in the back is a work of art, and Beethoven's 9th Symphony is
not. Experiences are passed on from one man to another. Abel knew
that. And now we know it. But where is the bridge placed?--at the
end of the road or only at the end of our vision? Is it all a
bridge?--or is there no bridge because there is no gulf? Suppose
that a composer writes a piece of music conscious that he is
inspired, say, by witnessing an act of great self-sacrifice--
another piece by the contemplation of a certain trait of nobility
he perceives in a friend's character--and another by the sight of
a mountain lake under moonlight. The first two, from an