in music, a succession of sounds ranged in such a manner, according to the laws of rhythmus and modulation, that it may form a sentiment agreeable to the ear. Vocal melody is called singing; and that which is performed upon instruments may be termed symphonic melody.

The idea of rhythmus necessarily enters into that of melody. An air is not an air but in proportion as the laws of measure and quantity are observed. The same succession of sounds is susceptible of as many different characters, as many different kinds of melody, as the various ways by which its emphatic notes, and the quantities of those which intervene, may be diversified; and the change in duration of the notes alone, may disguise that very succession in such a manner that it cannot be known. Thus, melody in itself is nothing; it is the rhythmus or measure which determines it, and there can be no air without time. If then we abstract measure... measure from both, we cannot compare melody with harmony; for to the former it is essential, but not at all to the latter.

Melody, according to the manner in which it is considered, has a relation to two different principles. When regarded only as agreeable to the proportions of sound and the rules of modulation, it has its principle in harmony; since it is a harmonical analysis, which exhibits the different gradations of the scale, the chords peculiar to each mode, and the laws of modulation, which are the sole elements that compose an air. According to this principle, the whole power of melody is limited to that of pleasing the ear by agreeable sounds, as the eye may be pleased with an agreeable assemblage of suitable colours. But when considered as an imitative art, by which we may affect the mind with various images, excite different emotions in the heart, inflame or soothe the passions; by which, in a word, we produce different effects upon our moral faculties, which are not to be effectuated by the influence of external sense alone, we must explore another principle for melody: for in our whole internal frame there appears to be no power upon which either harmony alone, or its necessary results, can seize, to affect us in such a manner.

What then is the second principle? It is as much founded on nature as the first; but, in order to discover its foundation in nature, it will require a more accurate though simpler observation, and a more exquisite degree of sensibility in the observer. This principle is the same which varies the tone of the voice, when we speak; according as we are interested in what we say, and according to the different emotions which we feel in expressing it. It is the accent of languages which determines the melody of every nation; it is the accent which determines us to employ the emphasis of speaking while we sing, and to speak with more or less energy according as the language which we use is more or less accented. That language whose accents are the most sensible, ought to produce a more passionate and more lively melody; that which has little accentuation, or none at all, can only produce a cold and languid melody, without character and without expression. These are the true principles: in proportion as we depart from them, when we speak of the power of music upon the human heart, we shall become unintelligible to ourselves and others: our words will be without meaning.

If music does not impress the soul with images but by melody, if from thence it obtains its whole power, it must follow, that all musical sounds which are not pleasing by themselves alone, however agreeable to harmony they may be, is not an imitative music; and, being incapable, even with its most beautiful chords, either to present the images of things, or to excite the finer feelings, very soon cloy the ear, and leaves always the heart in cold indifference. It follows likewise, that notwithstanding the parts which harmony has introduced, and which the present taste of music so wantonly abuses, wherever two different melodies are heard at the same time, they counteract each other, and destroy the effects of both, however beautiful each may be when performed alone: from whence it may be judged with what degree of taste the French composers have introduced in their operas the miserable practice of accompanying one air with another, as well in singing, which is the native expression of pathos and sentiment, as in instrumental performances; which is the same thing as if whimsical orators should take it in their heads to recite two orations at the same time, that the elegance of each might derive more force from the other.

So much for Rousseau. The translator, however, has reason to fear, that the causes by which national melody is diversified and characterized, are more profound and permanent than the mere accentuation of language. This indeed may have great influence in determining the nature of the rhythmus, and the place of emphatic notes; but very little in regulating the nature of the emphasis and expression themselves. If Rousseau's principle be true in its full extent, he must of necessity acknowledge, that an air which was never set or intended for words, however melodious, cannot be imitative; he must likewise confess, that what is imitative in one nation cannot be such in another: nor can it be denied, upon his hypothesis, that the recitative, which is formed upon the mode of speaking, is the most forcible of all melodies; which is absurd. His other observations are at once judicious and profound. Though it is impossible to exhibit the beauty and variety of harmony by playing the same melody at the same time upon different keys, admitting those keys to form among themselves a perfect chord, which will of consequence preserve all the subsequent notes in the same intervals; yet this perfect harmony would by no means be uniformly pleasing to the ear. We must therefore of necessity introduce less perfect chords to vary and increase the pleasure, and these chords in any complex system of music must of necessity produce dissonances. It then becomes the business of the composer to be careful that these dissonances may arise as naturally from, and return as naturally to perfect harmony as possible. All these causes must inevitably vary the melody of the different parts; but still, amidst all these difficulties, the artist ought to be zealous in preserving the melody of each as homogeneous with the others as possible, that the result of the whole may be in some measure uniform. Otherwise, by counteracting each other, the parts will reciprocally destroy the effects one of another.