SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC

Transcription

1 British Journal of Aesthetics, Vol.», No. 1, January, 1994 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC Lars-Olof Ahlberg INTRODUCTION SUSANNE K. LANCER'S theory of music is treated with respect by recent philosophers of music, even though nobody seems to accept her theory. Her theory remains, in spite of fundamental weaknesses, a significant contribution to the philosophy of music. I shall first present Langer's main theses as I understand them and then assess them critically. In the second part I shall try to relate her theory of music to more recent theories of the role of emotion in music. Peter Kivy notes in The Corded Shell (1980) that his own theory of expressiveness in music resembles Langer's theory in certain respects. 'Both Langer and I', he says, 'claim that music bears some resemblance to the "emotive life", and that, one way or another, therein lies the explanation of its expressiveness'. 1 There are, to be sure, important differences between Langer's and Kivy's views regarding the nature of the emotive and expressive qualities of music. Langer and Kivy also differ as to what would constitute a proper account of the expressive properties of music. I will return to these matters later when trying to sketch out some of the options regarding the expressive qualities of music. MUSIC AS A SYMBOL OF EMOTIVE LIFE Langer's theory of music is contained in the chapter entitled 'On Significance in Music' in her Philosophy in a New Key (1942). 2 Although her discussion is fairly short, her theory has been interpreted in different ways. Some interpretations of her work are inadequate, notably those which see her theory as a species of the imitation theory of art, 3 but there is room for several legitimate interpretations because her analysis is rather unsystematic and, as Jerrold Levinson puts it, 'intriguingly obscure'.' 4 Langer rejects two widely held theories of expression in music, the so-called self-expression theory and the semantic theory. The self-expression theory maintains that he 'who produces the music is pouring out the real feelings of his heart. Music is his avenue of self-expression, he confesses his emotions to an audience, or in solitude just works them off to relieve himself. 5 The self-expression theory of musical meaning has enjoyed great popularity because it seems to explain how music can possess emotional qualities and how music affects us emotionally. A prior expressive act on the part of the Oxford University Press

2 70 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC composer is, on this view, responsible for the expressive properties embodied in a musical work. The self-expression theory cannot, Langer argues, account for the creation of artistic form, in this case musical form, because '[s]heer self expression requires no artistic form', she says. 6 The history of music, she adds, 'has been a history of more and more integrated, disciplined, and articulated/orms, much like the history of language'. 7 If a composer expressed his real emotions in his music, it would, Langer argues, be impossible for him to work in accordance with a programme. It is clear that Langer interprets the self-expression theory in terms of venting one's feelings and not as objectifying one's emotions. There are, however, more interesting versions of the expression theory than this version of the self-expression theory. Philosophers such as Collingwood and Dewey, for example, have explicitly distinguished between direct and indirect expression, claiming that only the latter is relevant as regards art. In their view emotions are objectified or embodied in the work of art. But even the theory that a work of art expresses 'emotion recollected in tranquillity' treats the work of art as an expression of the emotional experiences of its creator, and art is therefore still considered to be essentially autobiographical. Langer's arguments against the self-expression theory of music could easily be transposed so as to fit other varieties of expression theories as well. She also rejects the theory that music is basically a kind of language, a language with conceptual powers. On this semantic theory of music, instrumental music is capable of describing reality and of conveying a message. Schopenhauer is singled out as an exponent of this view: 'The assumption that music is a kind of language, not of the here-and-now, but of genuine conceptual content, is widely entertained, though perhaps not as universally as the emotive-symptom theory. The best-known pioneer in this field is Schopenhauer'. 8 For Schopenhauer music in contrast to other art forms represents and expresses the nature of the metaphysical Will itself. It reveals the nature of the world not by expressing or describing any particular emotions felt by the composer or by anybody else but by expressing the nature of particular kinds of emotions: joy as such or grief as such. The essence of joy or grief is for Schopenhauer the proper subject-matter of instrumental music. Langer thinks that Schopenhauer's theory of music is an advance on most previous theories of musical meaning, mainly because he regards music 'as an impersonal,... real semantic, a symbolism with a content of ideas'. 9 She introduces her own theory of music in the following way: 'If music has any significance, it is semantic, not symptomatic. Its "meaning" is evidently not that of a stimulus to evoke emotions, nor that of a signal to announce them; if it has an emotional content, it "has" it in the same sense that language "has" its conceptual content symbolically'. w Music, in her view then, is neither the cause nor the cure of feelings, but their 'logical expression'. 11 Music is therefore a peculiar kind of symbolism,

3 LARS-OLOF AHLBERG 71 capable of expressing the nature of our emotional experience. However, it is not a discursive symbolism or a real language with a vocabulary and a syntax: it is 'an unconsummated symbol',* 2 she claims. Therefore '[a]rticulation is its life, but not assertion; expressiveness, not expression'. 13 Instrumental music is not a language; it is not a discursive symbolism because it lacks a vocabulary with fixed meanings. There is, however, 'an unexplored possibility of genuine semantic beyond the limits of discursive language', 14 she believes, and instrumental music belongs to that category. If music does not describe anything extra-musical or refer to an extramusical reality, what then is articulated and formulated in and through music? 'A composer', says Langer, 'articulates subtle complexes of feeling that language cannot even name, let alone set forth'. 15 Does this imply that a composer who has acquired a deep knowledge of a particular complex of feeling articulates that very complex of feeling and not another one? I think this is what she is saying at times although it is inconsistent with her thesis that music is capable of reflecting and presenting only the general structure of the emotions, not the structure or nature or whatever of particular emotions and feelings. There is, I believe, what could be called a 'particularist' and a 'generalist' tendency in Langer's thinking about the significance of music, tendencies that give rise to irreconcilable claims. Let me start with what I have called the 'particularist' tendency. 'Just as words can describe events we have not witnessed, places and things we have not seen', she writes, 'so music can present emotions and moods we have not felt, passions we did not know before'. 16 She must have particular emotions, moods and passions in mind, and not emotions, moods and passions in general, otherwise the analogy with events we have not witnessed would be pointless. We may also note that she writes indiscriminately of emotions, moods and passions phenomena that differ considerably both psychologically and conceptually. In the following passage, on the other hand, she does not seem to be thinking of named or unnamed emotions or moods at all. For music, she asserts, is 'formulation and representation of emotions, moods, mental tensions and resolutions a "logical picture" of sentient, responsive life, a source of insight, not a plea for sympathy'. 17 What are the tensions and resolutions referred to here? Are they tensions and resolutions that, as it were, inhere in particular emotions or are they the general characteristics of mental life as such, tensions and resolutions that can be the common property of many different emotions and moods? I think the latter, because if music is a logical picture of sentient, responsive life it is a logical picture not of any particular and concrete mental phenomena, but of the structure of emotive experience as such. This interpretation is reinforced by her support for those 'thinkers who recoil from the admission of specific meanings'. 18 In her view music can only reflect 'the morphology of feeling'. 19 She argues as follows for this thesis. Instrumental music is capable of reflecting

4 72 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC and presenting the morphology of feeling because there is a structural resemblance between musical structures and the life of feeling. She tries to clarify this similarity between the dynamic patterns in music and the dynamic patterns of our mental life in the following way: 'there are certain aspects of the so-called "inner life" physical or mental which have formal properties similar to those of music patterns of motion and rest, of tension and release, of agreement and disagreement, preparation, fulfilment, excitation, sudden change, etc.'. 20 Langer believes that one condition for what she calls a 'connotative relationship between music and subjective experience' 21 is satisfied, namely the condition that there be a certain similarity of logical form between music and the so-called inner life. The first thing to note is that she here endorses a version of the picture theory of meaning, and assumes that for A to stand in a symbolic and semantic relationship to B, A must possess the same logical form as B. Music is therefore, according to her, capable of reflecting and presenting our emotive life in virtue of similarities in dynamic patterns between music and the emotive life. But even if we admit the existence of such structural similarities it does not follow ipso facto that music reflects or presents aspects of the emotions, or that music reflects the nature of feelings. Numerous non-human, physical processes exhibit similar dynamic patterns, yet music does not reflect or express them. Think of the sea, for example, which is a natural phenomenon exhibiting patterns of motion and rest and of tension and resolution. This similarity in patterns is probably the main reason why some people believe that Debussy's La Mer actually represents the sea. But for Langer this interpretation is excluded a priori; the dynamic patterns in La Mer as in all music present dynamic, psychological patterns. Yet if her arguments warrant the conclusion that music is capable of presenting the dynamic patterns of our inner life, they also warrant the conclusion that music is capable of presenting any dynamic patterns in nature. Langer takes it for granted that there is an intrinsic connection between music and our emotional life. Before continuing my analysis of Langer's theory, I would like to draw attention to a similar difficulty that faces Kivy's theory of the expressive properties in music. Like Langer, Kivy thinks that 'music bears some resemblance to the "emotive life" ', 22 and he also believes that the expressiveness of music is to be explained in terms of this resemblance. Music, however, is for him not a symbol of the emotive life or of anything else, nor does he entertain the notion of a logical similarity or isomorphism between musical structures and emotional ones. In particular, he rejects 'the illicit move from resemblance to symbol', 23 that he finds in Langer. Kivy repudiates the charge that he himself is guilty of a similar move from resemblance to expressiveness, for if resemblance were a sufficient condition for expressiveness, he says, 'music would be

5 LARS-OLOF AHLBERG 73 expressive of everything it resembled: the waves of the ocean, and,... the rise and fall of the stock market or the spirit of capitalism'. 24 In Kivy's view music can be expressive of something only if two conditions in addition to the requirement of resemblance are fulfilled. In the first place it must make sense to say that music is expressive of this or that. In the second place there must be some psychological link between music and what it expresses. 25 Music, then, is expressive of the emotions, first, because there is a resemblance between music and expressive behaviour and, secondly, because it makes sense to say that music is expressive of the emotions as opposed to being expressive of many other things, and finally, and most importantly, because music can be expressive of the emotions, because 'we, for whatever reason, tend to animate our perceptions, and cannot but see expressiveness in them, any more than we can help seeing expressiveness in the Saint Bernard's face', as Kivy puts it. 26 According to Kivy, we are justified in regarding music as expressive of individual human emotions because we in fact tend to hear expressiveness in music. If this is so, I cannot see why Langer should not be entitled to assume that music reflects our emotional life rather than, say, the life of the stars. But to return to Langer's argument, if we grant her that music somehow reflects and presents the dynamic structures of emotive life, we may ask what features or aspects of our emotive experience are presented in music. One answer is that 'music can reveal the nature of feelings with a detail and truth that language cannot approach'. 27 Music can do this '[b]ecause the forms of human feeling are much more congruent with musical forms than with the forms of language', she thinks. 28 This passage is a good example of the ambiguity I have found at the heart of her theory, for she speaks indiscriminately of 'the forms of human feeling' and of 'the nature of feelings'. Perhaps it makes sense to say that the feeling of hunger or the feeling of thirst exhibits a pattern or structure of motion and rest, of tension and release, but it does not follow that the nature of these feelings consists of such patterns. A somewhat different answer to the question what music can reveal or present is given in a passage where she denies that music can convey specific emotive meanings. For she asserts that the only thing that 'music can actually reflect is... the morphology of feeling'. N I will henceforth refer to this as Langer's 'official view'. The morphology of feeling presumably consists of patterns and structures which are isomorphic with musical forms. I take it that it does not make sense to speak of a sad or joyous morphology or of plaintive or exuberant patterns; therefore we cannot on Langer's theory ascribe particular expressive emotional properties to a piece of music. No predicates, which we normally use in describing attitudes, states of mind, moods, feelings and emotions, can legitimately be applied to music on Langer's official view. And yet, while insisting that music only reflects the morphology of feeling, in the

6 74 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC same breath she admits that '[i]t is a peculiar fact that some musical forms seem to bear a sad and a happy interpretation equally well'. 30 In the absence of any examples of such music it is difficult to assess her claim. Also, there seems to be a slip of the pen here because the admission that a passage can be equally well interpreted as sad or as happy is inconsistent with her general refusal to assign specific emotive meanings to music. The reason she gives is that 'some sad and some happy conditions may have a very similar morphology'. 31 If music only reflects the morphology of feeling, it cannot reflect or present or suggest sad or happy moods at all, unless we assume that every mental condition has its own specific morphology an assumption which is inconsistent with Langer's explicit theory. If music exhibits dynamic patterns analogous to the dynamic patterns of emotive life, music does not represent or refer to these patterns; music only resembles them and somehow presents them. The link between music and the emotive life is, then, according to Langer's 'official theory' highly general and abstract. As Kivy remarks, music in her theory emerges as a '[peculiar] symbol..., a pale ghost of the emotions: symbolic of them but not of any one of them'. 32 According to Kivy, 'our talk about music, both in high as well as low places, is talk about music's relations to the particular human emotions, not just talk... to... some "abstract emotion in general" \ 33 Langer's theory cannot account for this, nor does it offer a justification for the ascription of expressive predicates to music, as does Kivy's theory. Kivy says therefore that Langer does not 'save the appearances', because she does not 'save the link to particular emotions'. 34 He is, of course, right about this, but the aims of Langer's theory of music are very different from Kivy's. Her theory of music is an integral part of her general philosophy of 'symbolic forms', inspired by Ernst Cassirer, whereas Kivy wishes to explain and justify a certain practice of experiencing, talking and writing about music. Nevertheless Kivy's comments are illuminating because they highlight the abstract character of Langer's theory. In his article, 'Is Music a Language of the Emotions?' (1983), Stephen Davies remarks in a similar vein that 'Langer's theory removes emotion from art, replacing it with conceptions of emotions'. 35 Davies also criticizes Langer because she removes 'the basis for emotional responses to musical works and makes mysterious the power of music to evoke emotional responses'. 36 This is also true, but it must be said that Langer is not interested in explaining and justifying emotional responses to music; for her '[t]he real power of music lies in the fact that it can be "true" to the life of feeling in a way that language cannot'. 37 The musical experience is for her presumably a cognitive response to musical structures that express the morphology of feeling. Before moving on, I shall summarize Langer's views by reproducing the following thesis-like formulations from Philosophy in a New Key: (1) Music formulates and represents emotions and moods; (2) Music articulates com-

7 LARS-OLOF AHLBERG 75 plexes of feeling; (3) Music presents emotive experience; (4) Music reveals the nature of feelings; (5) Music reflects the morphology of feeling. Some of these statements have been discussed above. I think it is clear that they do not all say the same, nor are they mutually compatible. Like many other readers of Langer I find it difficult to extract a consistent theory from her chapter on music. KIVY, LEVINSON AND THE EXPERIENCED LISTENER In the remainder of my paper I will try to relate Langer's views to Kivy's and Levinson's. I shall start by discussing a question of method, which can be introduced by asking how a theory of music relates to the practice of music criticism and to the experience of ordinary listeners and expert witnesses. Several recent writers on the philosophy of music appeal at times to their own experiences of music. Peter Kivy, for example, notes that 'the practice of music criticism is on the side of those who hear in music identifiable human emotions', 38 adding that this practice not only reflects a common musical experience, but also his own. In another place he says that '[w]hat I hear in music must be... the basic data for my theory'. 39 Or consider Jerrold Levinson's argument for his view that a particular passage in Mendelssohn's overture The Hebrides expresses 'a particular hope ardent, steadfast, and with not a little touch of faith as well': 40 [I]t was my conviction in the truth of my experience with passages such as that in The Hebrides that initially convinced me there must be something wrong with the oft-repeated arguments in question, to the effect that music's capacity to express more elevated psychological states is so inherently and unalterably limited. I can only trust that I have adequately diagnosed the ills of those arguments, but I know that the Hebrides passage expresses, if not hope, then at least some higher emotional condition beyond what those arguments appear to allow. 41 Whereas Langer considers music to be 'expressive in a nonspecific sense', to use Kivy's wording, Kivy, on the other hand, hears music as expressive in a specific sense; he hears identifiable, human emotions in music. 42 I, for my part, tend to hear music as expressive in a non-specific sense. But I would not want to theorize about my experience, nor do I believe that it is generalizable. But I am certain of one thing: whatever it is I hear in music it is not the 'the morphology of feeling'. But I think that Levinson's claim to having found expressions of religious ardour, of sorrow and shame, of boundless heroism and of pride in certain pieces of music is no less extravagant and puzzling than the Langerian claim that music expresses the morphology of feeling in music. I would like to mention one final example of the appeal to what could be called 'the individual philosopher's musical experience'. In his article, 'Analytical Philosophy and the Meaning of Music' (1987), Roger Scruton says that '[i]f a work of music means something, then, this is a fact about the way it

8 76 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC sounds'. 43 And although '[m]usic is not', according to Scruton, 'in any full sense, a representational art' because it is beset by 'narrative incompetence', 44 he claims that music can express moral truths. Commenting on the conclusion to Gotterddmmerung Act i, he writes: The musical experience rehearses a moral truth: that worship of nature, which is the end of life, stands next to the idolatry of power, which is the means. The holy is the neighbor of the corrupt, and that which is loved is adjacent to that which is bought and sold. Such is the way the music sounds, however strange it may be to say so. 45 Scruton is, of course, not describing pure instrumental music here, but still it is strange to say that music sounds the way he says it sounds. Moreover, I find it difficult to reconcile these assertions with his insistence on 'the narrative incompetence' of music. Kivy and Levinson not only appeal to their own experience of music; they also think that the practice of music criticism and the experience of musically competent and musically cultivated listeners support their theories. Kivy argues that the appeal to his own experiences of music is justified for the following reason: '[F]or although I am generalizing from a single case, I am not generalizing from a singular one. I share, with all others at my musical level, a common musical education and, because of that, a common approach to listening: common listening habits'. 46 I doubt whether any common listening habits can be appealed to in support of a particular theory of musical expressiveness. In the first place, there are theorists and music critics who refuse to describe music in emotive terms in the belief that all descriptions in emotive terms are either meaningless or arbitrary. In his review of Kivy's The Corded Shell, R. A. Sharpe claims that 'Kivy is quite fundamentally mistaken in seeking to rehabilitate the use of... expressive predicates', 47 and he believes that the expressive vocabulary belongs to the beginner and should consequently be discarded by the cognoscenti. In the second place, there are those who think that music has a describable content, a conceptual or metaphysical content very different from anything envisaged by Kivy. In a book on Mahler by a theorist, who like Kivy is a professional philosopher with a degree in musicology, we find the following analysis of the meaning of Mahler's Fifth Symphony: 'Listeners who allow Mahler to lead them into a non- Kantian temporality may find that the work reflects, and thereby illuminates, the temporal process that characterizes human consciousness as it actually is.' 48 And a passage in the first movement (the 'Funeral March') is said to make 'explicit the horrible pain associated with the death of the person whose corpse is passing by'. 49 These views may be dismissed as eccentric and exceptional. It is, however, easy to find less extravagant descriptions of the content and the message in music, which are at odds with Kivy's theory and with his

9 LARS-OLOF AHLBERG 77 experience of music. In an article on Mozart's Requiem, in a recent issue of the journal Classic CD, the reviewer claims that this music 'reflects the composer's struggle to reconcile the frightful visions of death, occasioned by his own final illness, with the consolation and hope traditionally afforded by religious faith. The message of the work is that no such reconciliation proved possible'. 50 I do not say that this is wrong or unintelligible, only that it is incompatible with Kivy's view of the nature of music. The appeal to the common practice of music critics then is riskier than Kivy supposes. Different people expect different things from music, they hear different things in music and they describe it in different ways and theorize about it differently. The conception of the innocent eye is a myth, and so is the idea of an innocent ear. In Levinson's essay, 'Hope in The Hebrides', the expert listener, or 'musically prepared listener' as Levinson calls him, plays a certain role. Levinson admits that nothing of what he has said about the passage in The Hebrides proves that it expresses hope. '[I]t only expresses [hope]', he claims, 'if musically prepared listeners will eventually agree that it is most aptly heard that way on an emotional plane'. 51 It comes as no great surprise that he also believes that 'it should be heard that way'. 52 In the same essay he claims that 'fully understanding [certain] passages, would entail acknowledging in experience that particular emotional construals of them were especially apt'. 53 There is a risk of circularity here. The musically prepared listener is presumably someone who is capable of construing certain passages in a certain way, recognizing hope in The Hebrides, for example, and the ascription of a definite emotive meaning to a certain passage is supported by the real or imagined consensus of informed listeners. In spite of my doubts about the appeal to.the practice of music criticism and the experience of expert listeners, it must be admitted that there often is considerable agreement not only among critics and experts about the expressive qualities of a piece of music. If we wish to characterize the first movement of Mahler's Fifth Symphony in expressive terms, almost everybody would choose predicates referring to the darker emotions, such as 'despairing', 'mournful', 'sad' and 'desperate'. Somebody who thought that this movement is expressive of jubilant joy or exuberant good spirits would be joking or would have a very peculiar musical sensibility or rather, no sense for music at all. When it comes to a finer discrimination of the expressive properties of a piece of music, it seems impossible to determine decisively which from a given range of properties are the most appropriate. In other words, we may not be able to decide whether a piece of music should be described as sad, or as lamenting, or rather as mournful or melancholy. 'Expressive ambiguity is an inherent feature of most if not all of our art', 54 says Alan Tormey. He believes that this fact explains 'the continuing divergence of informed

10 78 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC judgment concerning the expressive qualities of art works'. 55 Even if this is true it does not explain why some people are willing to characterize music in specific expressive terms, whereas others think that music can only be characterized in very general expressive terms. Nor does it explain, of course, why there are ultra purists who think that all descriptions of music in expressive terms are misguided. Whereas Langer's theory allows for the expressive ambiguity of a musical work, both Kivy and Levinson try to play down the importance of this phenomenon. The debates concerning the significance and meaning of music are, I think, partly conceptual and partly normative. Theories of musical meaning overtly or covertly recommend a way of listening to music. That is perhaps the reason why these controversies frequently become rather heated. Susanne Langer wrote that '[t]he oddest thing about this perfectly legitimate problem of musical meaning is that it seems impossible for people to discuss it with anything like detachment or candor'. 56 The purists, she says, 'reject with horror the very attempt to construe music as a semantic, they regard the imputation of any meaning emotional or other as an insult to the Muse, a degradation of the pure dynamic forms, an invidious heresy'. 57 Peter Kivy makes a similar observation; he says that 'the quarrel between musical emotivists and musical cognitivists all too often seems to involve a sort of moral crusade'. 58 Kivy, of course sides with the cognitivists who think that a property such as sadness is an objective phenomenal property of music regardless of whether the music makes the listeners sad or not, whereas the emotivists claim that sad music is sad in virtue of its capacity to arouse sadness in the listener. Hanslick, Langer, Kivy and Levinson assess the role of emotions in music differently. Hanslick believes that music cannot have expressive properties and he denies that there is any room at all for an emotional response to music. Langer's attitude is perhaps less straightforward; in her view music has emotional significance, albeit in a rather attenuated sense, and Kivy thinks that music can be expressive of definite human emotions such as sadness, joy, grief, and melancholy. Levinson, finally believes that music is capable of expressing not only complex human emotions, but also attitudes and character traits. These are, of course, not the only options as regards the existence of expressive qualities in music and the role of the emotions. I myself am in sympathy with Edmund Gurney, whose views can be placed somewhere in between Langer and Kivy. In an often quoted passage he writes: '[W]e often call music which stirs us more expressive than music which does not; and we call great music significant, or talk of its import, in contrast to poor music, which seems meaningless and insignificant; without being able, or dreaming we are able, to connect these general terms with anything expressed or signified'. 59

11 LARS-OLOF AHLBERG 79 To conclude: I am intrigued and puzzled by Langer's vague and ambiguous but fascinating theory, I am less puzzled by Peter Kivy's clearheaded analysis, and I am very much puzzled by Levinson's impressively argued but strange views. Music itself gives me far less trouble than the philosophers of music. Lars-Olof AbJberg, Cultural Studies, Uppsala University, Tradgirdsgatan 18, S Uppsala, Sweden. REFERENCES 1 Peter Kivy, The Corded Shell: Reflections on Musical Expression (Princeton U.P., 1980), p In Langer's later works, Feeling and Form (1953) and Mind: An Essay on Human Feeling (1967), there is htde mention of music, and in any case these works do not add anything significant to her discussion in Philosophy in a New Key. 3 George Dickie, Aesthetics: An Introduction (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1971), pp Jerrold Levinson, Truth in Music', in J. Levinson, Music, Art, and Metaphysics: Essays in Philosophical Aesthetics (Ithaca: Cornell U.P.,!99 ), P- 282, n Susanne K. Langer, Philosophy in a New Key: A Study in the Symbolism of Reason, Rite, and Art, 194a, 3rd ed. (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard U.P., 1957), p Ibid., p Ibid. 8 Ibid., p Ibid. 10 Ibid., p Ibid. 12 Ibid., p Ibid. 14 Ibid., p Ibid., p. 22a. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid., p Ibid. 20 Ibid Ibid. 22 Kivy, The Corded Shell, p Ibid., p Ibid., p. 62. a Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 Langer, Philosophy in a New Key, p Ibid. 29 Ibid., p Ibid. 31 Ibid. 32 Kivy, The Corded Shell, p Ibid., p Ibid. 35 Stephen Da vies, 'Is Music a Language of the Emotions?', The British Journal of Aesthetics 23 (1983), P Ibid. 37 Langer, Philosophy in a New Key, p Kivy, The Corded Shell, p Peter Kivy, Sound Sentiment: An Essay on the Musical Emotions (Philadelphia: Temple U.P., 1989), p Jerrold Levinson, 'Hope in The Hebrides', in J. Levinson, Music, Art, and Metaphysics, P- 37O. 41 Ibid., p Kivy, The Corded Shell, p Roger Scruton, 'Analytical Philosophy and the Meaning of Music', The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 46 (1987), Special Issue, p Ibid., p Ibid., p Peter Kivy, Music Alone: Philosophical Reflections on the Purely Musical Experience (Ithaca: Cornell U.P., 1990), p R. A. Sharpe, Review of P. Kivy's The Corded Shell, The British Journal of Aesthetics 22 (1982), p. 81. ** David B. Greene, Mahler: Consciousness and Temporality (New York: Gordon & Breach, 1984), p Ibid., p. 45.

12 80 SUSANNE LANGER ON REPRESENTATION AND EMOTION IN MUSIC 50 Clarsic CD (December IWI), p. 42. Ibid., p '' Levinson, 'Hope in The Hcbridcs', p hger, Philosophy in a Nm Kty, p hid. 57 Ibid. Ibid., p. 375 n. 53. " Kivy. Music Alonc, p A h Tormcy. 7%~ Caccpt of Exprasion: A 59 Edmund Gurney, 7%~ Powa of Sound Study in Philosophical Pzychology and Aesrhcf- (London: Smith, Elder & Co, 188o), p ia (Princeton U.P., 1971). p. 140.