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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Critical & Historical Essays + Lectures delivered at Columbia University + +Author: Edward MacDowell + +Editor: W. J. Baltzell + +Release Date: July 24, 2005 [EBook #16351] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRITICAL & HISTORICAL ESSAYS *** + + + + +Produced by David Newman, Daniel Emerson Griffith and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<!-- BE AWARE, if editing this file, that I make use of the + non-breaking space character ' ' in the alt attribute of + some img tags to make alternate text more readable in + text-only browsers. --> +<h1> +<a class="pagebreak" name="pagei" id="pagei" title="i"></a> +CRITICAL<br /> +<small>AND</small><br /> +HISTORICAL ESSAYS</h1> +<h3> +<i>Lectures delivered at Columbia University</i><br /> +BY<br /> +EDWARD MACDOWELL</h3> + +<h3>EDITED BY<br /> +W.J. BALTZELL</h3> + +<h4 class="sc">London<br /><br /> +ELKIN & CO., Ltd.,<br /> +8 & 10 Beak Street,<br /> +Regent Street, W.</h4> + +<h4>CONSTABLE & CO., Ltd.,<br /> +10 Orange Street,<br /> +Leicester Square, W.C.</h4> + +<h4 class="sc">Boston, U.S.A., ARTHUR P. SCHMIDT</h4> + +<h4 class="sc"><a class="pagebreak" name="pageii" id="pageii" title="ii"></a> +Copyright, 1912, by ARTHUR P. SCHMIDT<br /> +A.P.S. 9384</h4> + +<h4>Stanhope Press<br /> +F.H. GILSON COMPANY<br /> +BOSTON, U.S.A.</h4> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="pageiii" id="pageiii" title="iii"></a> +PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">The</span> +present work places before the public a phase of the +professional activity of Edward MacDowell quite different +from that through which his name became a household +word in musical circles, that is, his work as a composer. +In the chapters that follow we become acquainted with +him in the capacity of a writer on phases of the history +and æsthetics of music. +</p> + +<p> +It was in 1896 that the authorities of Columbia University +offered to him the newly created Chair of Music, +for which he had been strongly recommended as one of +the leading composers of America. After much thought +he accepted the position, and entered upon his duties +with the hope of accomplishing much for his art in the +favorable environment which he fully expected to find. +The aim of the instruction, as he planned it, was: “First, +to teach music scientifically and technically, with a view +to training musicians who shall be competent to teach and +compose. Second, to treat music historically and æsthetically +as an element of liberal culture.” In carrying out +his plans he conducted a course, which, while “outlining +the purely technical side of music,” was intended to give +a “general idea of music from its historical and æsthetic +side.” Supplementing this, as an advanced course, he +also gave one which took up the development of musical +forms, piano music, modern orchestration and symphonic +<a class="pagebreak" name="pageiv" id="pageiv" title="iv"></a> +forms, impressionism, the relationship of music to the +other arts, with much other material necessary to form +an adequate basis for music criticism. +</p> + +<p> +It is a matter for sincere regret that Mr. MacDowell +put in permanent form only a portion of the lectures +prepared for the two courses just mentioned. While +some were read from manuscript, others were given from +notes and illustrated with musical quotations. This was +the case, very largely, with the lectures prepared for the +advanced course, which included extremely valuable and +individual treatment of the subject of the piano, its literature +and composers, modern music, etc. +</p> + +<p> +A point of view which the lecturer brought to bear +upon his subject was that of a composer to whom there +were no secrets as to the processes by which music is made. +It was possible for him to enter into the spirit in which +the composers both of the earlier and later periods conceived +their works, and to value the completed compositions +according to the way in which he found that they +had followed the canons of the best and purest art. It is +this unique attitude which makes the lectures so valuable +to the musician as well as to the student. +</p> + +<p> +The Editor would also call attention to the intellectual +qualities of Mr. MacDowell, which determined his attitude +toward any subject. He was a poet who chose to +express himself through the medium of music rather than +in some other way. For example, he had great natural +facility in the use of the pencil and the brush, and was +strongly advised to take up painting as a career. The +volume of his poetical writings, issued several years ago, +<a class="pagebreak" name="pagev" id="pagev" title="v"></a> +is proof of his power of expression in verse and lyric forms. +Above these and animating them were what Mr. Lawrence +Gilman terms “his uncommon faculties of vision and +imagination.” What he thought, what he said, what he +wrote, was determined by the poet's point of view, and +this is evident on nearly every page of these lectures. +</p> + +<p> +He was a wide reader, one who, from natural bent, +dipped into the curious and out-of-the-way corners of +literature, as will be noticed in his references to other +works in the course of the lectures, particularly to Rowbotham's +picturesque and fascinating story of the formative +period of music. Withal he was always in touch with +contemporary affairs. With the true outlook of the poet +he was fearless, individual, and even radical in his views. +This spirit, as indicated before, he carried into his lectures, +for he demanded of his pupils that above all they +should be prepared to do their own thinking and reach +their own conclusions. He was accustomed to say that +we need in the United States, a public that shall be +independent in its judgment on art and art products, that +shall not be tied down to verdicts based on tradition and +convention, but shall be prepared to reach conclusions +through knowledge and sincerity. +</p> + +<p> +That these lectures may aid in this splendid educational +purpose is the wish of those who are responsible for +placing them before the public. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +W. J. BALTZELL. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="pagevi" id="pagevi" title="vi"></a> +CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="toc" summary=""> +<tr><th>CHAP.</th><th></th><th class="right">PAGE</th></tr> +<tr><td class="right">I.</td> +<td>The Origin of Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">II.</td> +<td>Origin of Song vs. Origin of Instrumental Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">III.</td> +<td>The Music of the Hebrews and the Hindus</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">IV.</td> +<td>The Music of the Egyptians, Assyrians and Chinese</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">V.</td> +<td>The Music of the Chinese (<i class="nc">continued</i>)</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">VI.</td> +<td>The Music of Greece</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">VII.</td> +<td>The Music of the Romans—the Early Church</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">VIII.</td> +<td>Formation of the Scale—Notation</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">IX.</td> +<td>The Systems of Hucbald and Guido d'Arezzo—the Beginning of Counterpoint</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">X.</td> +<td>Musical Instruments—Their History and Development</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XI.</td> +<td>Folk-Song and its Relation to Nationalism in Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XII.</td> +<td>The Troubadours, Minnesingers and Mastersingers</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XIII.</td> +<td>Early Instrumental Forms</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XIV.</td> +<td>The Merging of the Suite into the Sonata</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XV.</td> +<td>The Development of Pianoforte Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XVI.</td> +<td>The Mystery and Miracle Play</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XVII.</td> +<td>Opera</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page210">210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XVIII.</td> +<td>Opera (<i class="nc">continued</i>)</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page224">224</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XIX.</td> +<td>On the Lives and Art Principles of Some Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century Composers</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page236">236</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XX.</td> +<td>Declamation in Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page254">254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="right">XXI.</td> +<td>Suggestion in Music</td> +<td class="page"><a href="#page261">261</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page1" id="page1" title="1"></a> +CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS</h2> + + +<h2>I<br /><br /> +THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC</h2> + + +<p> +<span class="first">Darwin's</span> +theory that music had its origin “in the +sounds made by the half-human progenitors of man during +the season of courtship” seems for many reasons to +be inadequate and untenable. A much more plausible +explanation, it seems to me, is to be found in the theory +of Theophrastus, in which the origin of music is attributed +to the whole range of human emotion. +</p> + +<p> +When an animal utters a cry of joy or pain it expresses +its emotions in more or less definite tones; and at some +remote period of the earth's history all primeval mankind +must have expressed its emotions in much the same +manner. When this inarticulate speech developed into +the use of certain sounds as symbols for emotions—emotions +that otherwise would have been expressed by the +natural sounds occasioned by them—then we have the +beginnings of speech as distinguished from music, which is +still the universal language. In other words, intellectual +development begins with articulate speech, leaving +music for the expression of the emotions. +</p> + +<p> +To symbolize the sounds used to express emotion, if +I may so put it, is to weaken that expression, and it +<a class="pagebreak" name="page2" id="page2" title="2"></a> +would naturally be the strongest emotion that would +first feel the inadequacy of the new-found speech. Now +what is mankind's strongest emotion? Even in the +nineteenth century Goethe could say, “'Tis fear that +constitutes the god-like in man.” Certainly before the +Christian era the soul of mankind had its roots in fear. +In our superstition we were like children beneath a great +tree of which the upper part was as a vague and fascinating +mystery, but the roots holding it firmly to the ground +were tangible, palpable facts. We feared—we knew not +what. Love was human, all the other emotions were +human; fear alone was indefinable. +</p> + +<p> +The primeval savage, looking at the world subjectively, +was merely part of it. He might love, hate, threaten, +kill, if he willed; every other creature could do the same. +But the wind was a great spirit to him; lightning and +thunder threatened him as they did the rest of the world; +the flood would destroy him as ruthlessly as it tore the +trees asunder. The elements were animate powers that +had nothing in common with him; for what the intellect +cannot explain the imagination magnifies. +</p> + +<p> +Fear, then, was the strongest emotion. Therefore +auxiliary aids to express and cause fear were necessary +when the speech symbols for fear, drifting further and +further away from expressing the actual thing, became +words, and words were inadequate to express and +cause fear. In that vague groping for sound symbols +which would cause and express fear far better than mere +words, we have the beginning of what is gradually to +develop into music. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page3" id="page3" title="3"></a> +We all know that savage nations accompany their +dances by striking one object with another, sometimes by +a clanking of stones, the pounding of wood, or perhaps +the clashing of stone spearheads against wooden shields +(a custom which extended until the time when shields +and spears were discarded), meaning thus to express +something that words cannot. This meaning changed +naturally from its original one of being the simple expression +of fear to that of welcoming a chieftain; and, if one +wishes to push the theory to excess, we may still see a +shadowy reminiscence of it in the manner in which the +violinists of an orchestra applaud an honoured guest—perchance +some famous virtuoso—at one of our symphony +concerts by striking the backs of their violins with +their bows. +</p> + +<p> +To go back to the savages. While this clashing of one +object against another could not be called the beginning +of music, and while it could not be said to originate a +musical instrument, it did, nevertheless, bring into existence +music's greatest prop, rhythm, an ally without +which music would seem to be impossible. It is hardly +necessary to go into this point in detail. Suffice it to say +that the sense of rhythm is highly developed even among +those savage tribes which stand the lowest in the scale +of civilization to-day, for instance, the Andaman Islanders, +of whom I shall speak later; the same may be said of the +Tierra del Fuegians and the now extinct aborigines of +Tasmania; it is the same with the Semangs of the Malay +Peninsula, the Ajitas of the Philippines, and the savages +inhabiting the interior of Borneo. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page4" id="page4" title="4"></a> +As I have said, this more or less rhythmic clanking of +stones together, the striking of wooden paddles against +the side of a canoe, or the clashing of stone spearheads +against wooden shields, could not constitute the first +musical instrument. But when some savage first struck +a hollow tree and found that it gave forth a sound peculiar +to itself, when he found a hollow log and filled up the open +ends, first with wood, and then—possibly getting the idea +from his hide-covered shield—stretched skins across the +two open ends, then he had completed the first musical +instrument known to man, namely, the drum. And such +as it was then, so is it now, with but few modifications. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this point it is reasonable to assume that primeval +man looked upon the world purely subjectively. He considered +himself merely a unit in the world, and felt on a +plane with the other creatures inhabiting it. But from +the moment he had invented the first musical instrument, +the drum, he had created something outside of nature, a +voice that to himself and to all other living creatures was +intangible, an idol that spoke when it was touched, something +that he could call into life, something that shared +the supernatural in common with the elements. A God +had come to live with man, and thus was unfolded the +first leaf in that noble tree of life which we call religion. +Man now began to feel himself something apart from the +world, and to look at it objectively instead of subjectively. +</p> + +<p> +To treat primitive mankind as a type, to put it under +one head, to make one theorem cover all mankind, as it +were, seems almost an unwarranted boldness. But I +think it is warranted when we consider that, aside from +<a class="pagebreak" name="page5" id="page5" title="5"></a> +language, music is the very first sign of the dawn of civilization. +There is even the most convincingly direct +testimony in its favour. For instance: +</p> + +<p> +In the Bay of Bengal, about six hundred miles from the +Hoogly mouth of the Ganges, lie the Andaman Islands. +The savages inhabiting these islands have the unenviable +reputation of being, in common with several other tribes, +the nearest approach to primeval man in existence. These +islands and their inhabitants have been known and +feared since time immemorial; our old friend Sinbad the +Sailor, of “Arabian Nights” fame, undoubtedly touched +there on one of his voyages. These savages have no +religion whatever, except the vaguest superstition, in +other words, fear, and they have no musical instruments +of any kind. They have reached only the <i>rhythm</i> stage, +and accompany such dances as they have by clapping +their hands or by stamping on the ground. Let us now +look to Patagonia, some thousands of miles distant. +The Tierra del Fuegians have precisely the same characteristics, +no religion, and no musical instruments of any +kind. Retracing our steps to the Antipodes we find +among the Weddahs or “wild hunters” of Ceylon exactly +the same state of things. The same description applies +without distinction equally well to the natives in the +interior of Borneo, to the Semangs of the Malay Peninsula, +and to the now extinct aborigines of Tasmania. +According to Virchow their dance is demon worship of a +purely anthropomorphic character; no musical instrument +of any kind was known to them. Even the simple +expression of emotions by the voice, which we have seen +<a class="pagebreak" name="page6" id="page6" title="6"></a> +is its most primitive medium, has not been replaced to +any extent among these races since their discovery of +speech, for the Tierra del Fuegians, Andamans, and +Weddahs have but one sound to represent emotion, +namely, a cry to express joy; having no other means +for the expression of sorrow, they paint themselves when +mourning. +</p> + +<p> +It is granted that all this, in itself, is not conclusive; +but it will be found that no matter in what wilderness +one may hear of a savage beating a drum, there also will +be a well-defined religion. +</p> + +<p> +Proofs of the theory that the drum antedates all other +musical instruments are to be found on every hand. For +wherever in the anthropological history of the world we +hear of the trumpet, horn, flute, or other instrument of +the pipe species, it will be found that the drum and its +derivatives were already well known. The same may be +said of the lyre species of instrument, the forerunner of +our guitar (<i>kithara</i>), <i>tebuni</i> or Egyptian harp, and generally +all stringed instruments, with this difference, namely, +that wherever the lyre species was known, both pipe and +drum had preceded it. We never find the lyre without +the drum, or the pipe without the drum; neither do we +find the lyre and the drum without the pipe. On the +other hand, we often find the drum alone, or the drum and +pipe without the lyre. This certainly proves the antiquity +of the drum and its derivatives. +</p> + +<p> +I have spoken of the purely rhythmical nature of the +pre-drum period, and pointed out, in contrast, the musical +quality of the drum. This may seem somewhat strange, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page7" id="page7" title="7"></a> +accustomed as we are to think of the drum as a purely +rhythmical instrument. The sounds given out by it +seem at best vague in tone and more or less uniform in +quality. We forget that all instruments of percussion, +as they are called, are direct descendants of the drum. +The bells that hang in our church towers are but modifications +of the drum; for what is a bell but a metal drum +with one end left open and the drum stick hung inside? +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, as showing the marvellous potency of +primeval instincts, bells placed in church towers were +supposed to have much of the supernatural power that +the savage in his wilderness ascribed to the drum. We +all know something of the bell legends of the Middle +Ages, how the tolling of a bell was supposed to clear the +air of the plague, to calm the storm, and to shed a blessing +on all who heard it. And this superstition was to a +certain extent ratified by the religious ceremonies attending +the casting of church bells and the inscriptions moulded +in them. For instance, the mid-day bell of Strasburg, +taken down during the French Revolution, bore the +motto +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I am the voice of life.”</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +Another one in Strasburg: +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I ring out the bad, ring in the good.”</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +Others read +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My voice on high dispels the storm.”</span> +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I am called Ave Maria</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I drive away storms.”</span> +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I who call to thee am the Rose of the World +and am called Ave Maria.”</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page8" id="page8" title="8"></a> +The Egyptian <i>sistrum</i>, which in Roman times played +an important rôle in the worship of Isis, was shaped somewhat +like a tennis racquet, with four wire strings on which +rattles were strung. The sound of it must have been +akin to that of our modern tambourine, and it served +much the same purpose as the primitive drum, namely, +to drive away Typhon or Set, the god of evil. Dead kings +were called “Osiris” when placed in their tombs, and <i>sistri</i> +put with them in order to drive away Set. +</p> + +<p> +Beside bells and rattles we must include all instruments +of the tambourine and gong species in the drum +category. While there are many different forms of the +same instrument, there are evidences of their all having +at some time served the same purpose, even down to that +strange instrument about which Du Chaillu tells us in +his “Equatorial Africa”, a bell of leopard skin, with a +clapper of fur, which was rung by the wizard doctor when +entering a hut where someone was ill or dying. The +leopard skin and fur clapper seem to have been devised +to make no noise, so as not to anger the demon that was +to be cast out. This reminds us strangely of the custom +of ringing a bell as the priest goes to administer the last +rites. +</p> + +<p> +It is said that first impressions are the strongest and +most lasting; certain it is that humanity, through all its +social and racial evolutions, has retained remnants of +certain primitive ideas to the present day. The army +death reveille, the minute gun, the tolling of bells for the +dead, the tocsin, etc., all have their roots in the attributes +assigned to the primitive drum; for, as I have already +<a class="pagebreak" name="page9" id="page9" title="9"></a> +pointed out, the more civilized a people becomes, the more +the word-symbols degenerate. It is this continual drifting +away of the word-symbols from the natural sounds +which are occasioned by emotions that creates the necessity +for auxiliary means of expression, and thus gives us instrumental +music. +</p> + +<p> +Since the advent of the drum a great stride toward +civilization had been made. Mankind no longer lived in +caves but built huts and even temples, and the conditions +under which he lived must have been similar to those +of the natives of Central Africa before travellers opened +up the Dark Continent to the caravan of the European +trader. If we look up the subject in the narratives of +Livingstone or Stanley we find that these people lived in +groups of coarsely-thatched huts, the village being almost +invariably surrounded by a kind of stockade. Now this +manner of living is identically the same as that of all +savage tribes which have not passed beyond the drum +state of civilization, namely, a few huts huddled together +and surrounded by a palisade of bamboo or cane. Since +the pith would decompose in a short time, we should +probably find that the wind, whirling across such a +palisade of pipes—for that is what our bamboos would +have turned to—would produce musical sounds, in fact, +exactly the sounds that a large set of Pan's pipes would +produce. For after all what we call Pan's pipes are simply +pieces of bamboo or cane of different lengths tied together +and made to sound by blowing across the open tops. +</p> + +<p> +The theory may be objected to on the ground that it +scarcely proves the antiquity of the pipe to be less than +<a class="pagebreak" name="page10" id="page10" title="10"></a> +that of the drum; but the objection is hardly of importance +when we consider that the drum was known long before +mankind had reached the “hut” stage of civilization. +Under the head of pipe, the trumpet and all its derivatives +must be accepted. On this point there has been much +controversy. But it seems reasonable to believe that +once it was found that sound could be produced by blowing +across the top of a hollow pipe, the most natural +thing to do would be to try the same effect on all hollow +things differing in shape and material from the original +bamboo. This would account for the conch shells of the +Amazons which, according to travellers' tales, were used +to proclaim an attack in war; in Africa the tusks of elephants +were used; in North America the instrument did +not rise above the whistle made from the small bones +of a deer or of a turkey's leg. +</p> + +<p> +That the Pan's pipes are the originals of all these species +seems hardly open to doubt. Even among the Greeks +and Romans we see traces of them in the double trumpet +and the double pipe. These trumpets became larger and +larger in form, and the force required to play them was +such that the player had to adopt a kind of leather harness +to strengthen his cheeks. Before this development +had been reached, however, I have no doubt that all +wind instruments were of the Pan's pipes variety; that is +to say, the instruments consisted of a hollow tube shut +at one end, the sound being produced by the breath +catching on the open edge of the tube. +</p> + +<p> +Direct blowing into the tube doubtless came later. In +this case the tube was open at both ends, and the sound +<a class="pagebreak" name="page11" id="page11" title="11"></a> +was determined by its length and by the force given to +the breath in playing. There is good reason for admitting +this new instrument to be a descendant of the Pan's +pipes, for it was evidently played by the nose at first. +This would preclude its being considered as an originally +forcible instrument, such as the trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +Now that we have traced the history of the pipe and +considered the different types of the instrument, we can +see immediately that it brought no great new truth home +to man as did the drum. +</p> + +<p> +The savage who first climbed secretly to the top of the +stockade around his village to investigate the cause of +the mysterious sounds would naturally say that the +Great Spirit had revealed a mystery to him; and he +would also claim to be a wonder worker. But while his +pipe would be accepted to a certain degree, it was nevertheless +second in the field and could hardly replace the +drum. Besides, mankind had already commenced to +think on a higher plane, and the pipe was reduced to +filling what gaps it could in the language of the emotions. +</p> + +<p> +The second strongest emotion of the race is love. All +over the world, wherever we find the pipe in its softer, +earlier form, we find it connected with love songs. In +time it degenerated into a synonym for something contemptibly +slothful and worthless, so much so that Plato +wished to banish it from his “Republic,” saying that +the Lydian pipe should not have a place in a decent +community. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the trumpet branch of the family +developed into something quite different. At the very +<a class="pagebreak" name="page12" id="page12" title="12"></a> +beginning it was used for war, and as its object was to +frighten, it became larger and larger in form, and more +formidable in sound. In this respect it only kept pace +with the drum, for we read of Assyrian and Thibetan +trumpets two or three yards long, and of the Aztec war +drum which reached the enormous height of ten feet, and +could be heard for miles. +</p> + +<p> +Now this, the trumpet species of pipe, we find also +used as an auxiliary “spiritual” help to the drum. We +are told by M. Huc, in his “Travels in Thibet,” that the +llamas of Thibet have a custom of assembling on the +roofs of Lhassa at a stated period and blowing enormous +trumpets, making the most hideous midnight din imaginable. +The reason given for this was that in former days +the city was terrorized by demons who rose from a deep +ravine and crept through all the houses, working evil +everywhere. After the priests had exorcised them by +blowing these trumpets, the town was troubled no more. +In Africa the same demonstration of trumpet blowing +occurs at an eclipse of the moon; and, to draw the theory +out to a thin thread, anyone who has lived in a small +German Protestant town will remember the chorals which +are so often played before sunrise by a band of trumpets, +horns, and trombones from the belfry of some church tower. +Almost up to the end of the last century trombones were +intimately connected with the church service; and if we +look back to Zoroaster we find the sacerdotal character +of this species of instrument very plainly indicated. +</p> + +<p> +Now let us turn back to the Pan's pipes and its direct +descendants, the flute, the clarinet, and the oboe. We +<a class="pagebreak" name="page13" id="page13" title="13"></a> +shall find that they had no connection whatever with +religious observances. Even in the nineteenth century +novel we are familiar with the kind of hero who played +the flute—a very sentimental gentleman always in love. +If he had played the clarinet he would have been very +sorrowful and discouraged; and if it had been the oboe +(which, to the best of my knowledge, has never been +attempted in fiction) he would have needed to be a very +ill man indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Now we never hear of these latter kinds of pipes being +considered fit for anything but the dance, love songs, or +love charms. In the beginning of the seventeenth century +Garcilaso de la Vega, the historian of Peru, tells of +the astonishing power of a love song played on a flute. +We find so-called “courting” flutes in Formosa and Peru, +and Catlin tells of the Winnebago courting flute. The +same instrument was known in Java, as the old Dutch +settlers have told us. But we never hear of it as creating +awe, or as being thought a fit instrument to use with the +drum or trumpet in connection with religious rites. +Leonardo da Vinci had a flute player make music while +he painted his picture of Mona Lisa, thinking that it +gave her the expression he wished to catch—that +strange smile reproduced in the Louvre painting. The +flute member of the pipe species, therefore, was more or +less an emblem of eroticism, and, as I have already said, +has never been even remotely identified with religious +mysticism, with perhaps the one exception of Indra's +flute, which, however, never seems to have been able to +retain a place among religious symbols. The trumpet, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page14" id="page14" title="14"></a> +on the other hand, has retained something of a mystical +character even to our day. The most powerful illustration +of this known to me is in the “Requiem” by Berlioz. +The effect of those tremendous trumpet calls from +the four corners of the orchestra is an overwhelming one, +of crushing power and majesty, much of which is due to +the rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +To sum up. We may regard rhythm as the intellectual +side of music, melody as its sensuous side. The pipe is +the one instrument that seems to affect animals—hooded +cobras, lizards, fish, etc. Animals' natures are +purely sensuous, therefore the pipe, or to put it more +broadly, melody, affects them. To rhythm, on the other +hand, they are indifferent; it appeals to the intellect, and +therefore only to man. +</p> + +<p> +This theory would certainly account for much of the +potency of what we moderns call music. <a name="ft01"></a>All that aims +to be dramatic, tragic, supernatural in our modern music, +derives its impressiveness directly from rhythm.<a class="fn" +href="#fn01"> 1 </a> What +would that shudder of horror in Weber's “Freischütz” +be without that throb of the basses? Merely a diminished +chord of the seventh. Add the pizzicato in the basses +and the chord sinks into something fearsome; one has a +sudden choking sensation, as if one were listening in fear, +or as if the heart had almost stopped beating. All through +Wagner's music dramas this powerful effect is employed, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page15" id="page15" title="15"></a> +from “The Flying Dutchman” to “Parsifal.” Every +composer from Beethoven to Nicodé has used the same +means to express the same emotions; it is the medium +that pre-historic man first knew; it produced the same +sensation of fear in him that it does in us at the present +day. +</p> + +<p> +Rhythm denotes a thought; it is the expression of a +purpose. There is will behind it; its vital part is intention, +power; it is an act. Melody, on the other hand, is +an almost unconscious expression of the senses; it translates +feeling into sound. It is the natural outlet for +sensation. In anger we raise the voice; in sadness we +lower it. In talking we give expression to the emotions +in sound. In a sentence in which fury alternates +with sorrow, we have the limits of the melody of speech. +Add to this rhythm, and the very height of expression is +reached; for by it the intellect will dominate the sensuous. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft01"> 1 </a></span><a name="fn01"></a> +The strength of the “Fate” motive in Beethoven's fifth symphony +undoubtedly lies in the succession of the four notes at equal +intervals of time. Beethoven himself marked it <i>So pocht das Schicksal +an die Pforte</i>.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page16" id="page16" title="16"></a> +II<br /><br /> +ORIGIN OF SONG <i>vs.</i> ORIGIN OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">Emerson</span> +characterized language as “fossil poetry,” +but “fossil music” would have described it even better; +for as Darwin says, man <i>sang</i> before he became human. +</p> + +<p> +Gerber, in his “Sprache als Kunst,” describing the +degeneration of sound symbols, says “the saving point +of language is that the original material meanings of +words have become forgotten or lost in their acquired +ideal meaning.” This applies with special force to the +languages of China, Egypt, and India. Up to the last +two centuries our written music was held in bondage, was +“fossil music,” so to speak. Only certain progressions +of sounds were allowed, for religion controlled music. +In the Middle Ages folk song was used by the Church, +and a certain amount of control was exercised over it; +even up to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the use +of sharps and flats was frowned upon in church music. +But gradually music began to break loose from its old +chains, and in our own century we see Beethoven snap +the last thread of that powerful restraint which had held +it so long. +</p> + +<p> +The vital germ of music, as we know it, lay in the fact +that it had always found a home in the hearts of the common +people of all nations. While from time immemorial +<a class="pagebreak" name="page17" id="page17" title="17"></a> +theory, mostly in the form of mathematical problems, +was being fought over, and while laws were being laid +down by religions and governments of all nations as to +what music must be and what music was forbidden to +be, the vital spark of the divine art was being kept alive +deep beneath the ashes of life in the hearts of the oppressed +common folk. They still sang as they felt; when the mood +was sad the song mirrored the sorrow; if it were gay +the song echoed it, despite the disputes of philosophers +and the commands of governments and religion. Montaigne, +in speaking of language, said with truth, “'Tis +folly to attempt to fight custom with theories.” This +folk song, to use a Germanism, we can hardly take into +account at the present moment, though later we shall +see that spark fanned into fire by Beethoven, and carried +by Richard Wagner as a flaming torch through the very +home of the gods, “Walhalla.” +</p> + +<p> +Let us go back to our dust heap. Words have been +called “decayed sentences,” that is to say, every word +was once a small sentence complete in itself. This +theory seems true enough when we remember that mankind +has three languages, each complementing the other. For +even now we say many words in one, when that word +is reinforced and completed by our vocabulary of sounds +and expression, which, in turn, has its shadow, gesture. +These shadow languages, which accompany all our words, +give to the latter vitality and raise them from mere abstract +symbols to living representatives of the idea. Indeed, in +certain languages, this auxiliary expression even overshadows +the spoken word. For instance, in Chinese, the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page18" id="page18" title="18"></a> +<i>theng</i> or intonation of words is much more important +than the actual words themselves. Thus the third +intonation or <i>theng</i>, as it is called in the Pekin dialect, +is an upward inflection of the voice. A word with this +upward inflection would be unintelligible if given the +fourth <i>theng</i> or downward inflection. For instance, the +word “kwai” with a downward inflection means “honourable,” +but give it an upward inflection “kwai” and it +means “devil.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as a word was originally a sentence, so was a tone +in music something of a melody. One of the first things +that impresses us in studying examples of savage music +is the monotonic nature of the melodies; indeed some of +the music consists almost entirely of one oft-repeated +sound. Those who have heard this music say that the +actual effect is not one of a steady repetition of a single +tone, but rather that there seems to be an almost imperceptible +rising and falling of the voice. The primitive +savage is unable to sing a tone clearly and cleanly, the +pitch invariably wavering. From this almost imperceptible +rising and falling of the voice above and below +one tone we are able to gauge more or less the state of +civilization of the nation to which the song belongs. +This phrase-tone corresponds, therefore, to the sentence-word, +and like it, gradually loses its meaning as a phrase +and fades into a tone which, in turn, will be used in new +phrases as mankind mounts the ladder of civilization. +</p> + +<p> +At last then we have a single tone clearly uttered, and +recognizable as a musical tone. We can even make a +plausible guess as to what that tone was. Gardiner, in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page19" id="page19" title="19"></a> +his “Music of Nature,” tells of experiments he made in +order to determine the normal pitch of the human voice. +By going often to the gallery of the London Stock Exchange +he found that the roar of voices invariably amalgamated +into one long note, which was always F. If we look +over the various examples of monotonic savage music +quoted by Fletcher, Fillmore, Baker, Wilkes, Catlin, +and others, we find additional corroboration of the statement; +song after song, it will be noticed, is composed +entirely of F, G, and even F alone or G alone. Such +songs are generally ancient ones, and have been crystallized +and held intact by religion, in much the same way that +the chanting heard in the Roman Catholic service has +been preserved. +</p> + +<p> +Let us assume then that the normal tone of the human +voice in speaking is F or G +<a href="midi/voice.midi"><img src="images/male_voice.png" + width="112" height="26" alt="[below middle C]" /></a> +for men, and for +women the octave higher. This tone does very well +for our everyday life; perhaps a pleasant impression may +raise it somewhat, <i>ennui</i> may depress it slightly; but the +average tone of our “commonplace” talk, if I may call +it that, will be about F. But let some sudden emotion +come, and we find monotone speech abandoned for impassioned +speech, as it has been called. Instead of keeping +the voice evenly on one or two notes, we speak much +higher or lower than our normal pitch. +</p> + +<p> +And these sounds may be measured and classified to a +certain extent according to the emotions which cause +them, although it must be borne in mind that we are +looking at the matter collectively; that is to say, without +<a class="pagebreak" name="page20" id="page20" title="20"></a> +reckoning on individual idiosyncrasies of expression in +speech. Of course we know that joy is apt to make us +raise the voice and sadness to lower it. For instance, we +have all heard gruesome stories, and have noticed how +naturally the voice sinks in the telling. A ghost story +told with an upward inflection might easily become +humourous, so instinctively do we associate the upward +inflection with a non-pessimistic trend of thought. Under +stress of emotion we emphasize words strongly, and with +this emphasis we almost invariably raise the voice a +fifth or depress it a fifth; with yet stronger emotion the +interval of change will be an octave. We raise the voice +almost to a scream or drop it to a whisper. Strangely +enough these primitive notes of music correspond to the +first two of those harmonics which are part and parcel +of every musical sound. Generally speaking, we may say +that the ascending inflection carries something of joy or +hope with it, while the downward inflection has something +of the sinister and fearful. To be sure, we raise our +voices in anger and in pain, but even then the inflection +is almost always downward; in other words, we pitch our +voices higher and let them fall slightly. For instance, +if we heard a person cry “Ah/” we might doubt its +being a cry of pain, but if it were “Ah\” we should at +once know that it was caused by pain, either mental or +physical. +</p> + +<p> +The declamation at the end of Schubert's “Erlking” +would have been absolutely false if the penultimate note +had ascended to the tonic instead of descending a fifth. +“The child lay dead.” +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page21" id="page21" title="21"></a> +How fatally hopeless would be the opening measures of +“Tristan and Isolde” without that upward inflection which +comes like a sunbeam through a rift in the cloud; with a +downward inflection the effect would be that of unrelieved +gloom. In the Prelude to “Lohengrin,” Wagner pictures +his angels in dazzling white. He uses the highest vibrating +sounds at his command. But for the dwarfs who live +in the gloom of Niebelheim he chooses deep shades of +red, the lowest vibrating colour of the solar spectrum. +For it is in the nature of the spiritual part of mankind +to shrink from the earth, to aspire to something higher; +a bird soaring in the blue above us has something of the +ethereal; we give wings to our angels. On the other hand, a +serpent impresses us as something sinister. Trees, with +their strange fight against all the laws of gravity, striving +upward unceasingly, bring us something of hope and +faith; the sight of them cheers us. A land without trees +is depressing and gloomy. As Ruskin says, “The sea +wave, with all its beneficence, is yet devouring and terrible; +but the silent wave of the blue mountain is lifted towards +Heaven in a stillness of perpetual mercy; and while the +one surges unfathomable in its darkness, the other is +unshaken in its faithfulness.” +</p> + +<p> +And yet so strange is human nature that that which +we call civilization strives unceasingly to nullify emotion. +The almost childlike faith which made our church spires +point heavenward also gave us Gothic architecture, that +emblem of frail humanity striving towards the ideal. +It is a long leap from that childlike faith to the present +day of skyscrapers. For so is the world constituted. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page22" id="page22" title="22"></a> +A great truth too often becomes gradually a truism, +then a merely tolerated and uninteresting theory; gradually +it becomes obsolete and sometimes even degenerates +into a symbol of sarcasm or a servant of utilitarianism. +This we are illustrating every day of our lives. +We speak of a person's being “silly,” and yet the word +comes from “sælig,” old English for “blessed”; to act +“sheepishly” once had reference to divine resignation, +“even as a sheep led to the slaughter,” and so on <i>ad infinitum</i>. +We build but few great cathedrals now. Our tall +buildings generally point to utilitarianism and the almighty +dollar. +</p> + +<p> +But in the new art, music, we have found a new domain +in which impulses have retained their freshness and warmth, +in which, to quote Goethe, “first comes the act, then the +word”; first the expression of emotion, then the theory +that classifies it; a domain in which words cannot lose +their original meanings entirely, as in speech. For in +spite of the strange twistings of ultra modern music, a +simple melody still embodies the same pathos for us that +it did for our grandparents. To be sure the poignancy +of harmony in our day has been heightened to an incredible +degree. We deal in gorgeous colouring and mighty +sound masses which would have been amazing in the last +century; but still through it all we find in Händel, Beethoven, +and Schubert, up to Wagner, the same great truths +of declamation that I have tried to explain to you. +</p> + +<p> +Herbert Spencer, in an essay on “The Origin and +Functions of Music,” speaks of speech as the parent of +music. He says, “utterance, which when languaged is +<a class="pagebreak" name="page23" id="page23" title="23"></a> +speech, gave rise to music.” The definition is incomplete, +for “languaged utterance,” as he calls it, which is speech, +is a duality, is either an expression of emotion or a mere +symbol of emotion, and as such has gradually sunk to +the level of the commonplace. As Rowbotham points +out, impassioned speech is the parent of music, while +unimpassioned speech has remained the vehicle for the +smaller emotions of life, the everyday expression of everyday +emotions. +</p> + +<p> +In studying the music of different nations we are confronted +by one fact which seems to be part and parcel +of almost every nationality, namely, the constant recurrence +of what is called the five tone (pentatonic) scale. +We find it in primitive forms of music all the world over, +in China and in Scotland, among the Burmese, and again +in North America. Why it is so seems almost doomed +to remain a mystery. The following theory may nevertheless +be advanced as being at least plausible: +</p> + +<p> +Vocal music, as we understand it, and as I have already +explained, began when the first tone could be given +clearly; that is to say, when the sound sentence had amalgamated +into the single musical tone. The pitch being +sometimes F, sometimes G, sudden emotion gives us the +fifth, C or D, and the strongest emotion the octave, F or +G. Thus we have already the following sounds in our +first musical scale. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/first_scale.midi"> +<img src="images/scale_first.png" width="225" height="49" + alt="[G: f' g' c'' d'' f'']" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +We know how singers slur from one tone to another. It +is a fault that caused the fathers of harmony to prohibit +<a class="pagebreak" name="page24" id="page24" title="24"></a> +what are called hidden fifths in vocal music. The jump +from G to C in the above scale fragment would be slurred, +for we must remember that the intoning of clear individual +sounds was still a novelty to the savage. Now the +distance from G to C is too small to admit two tones +such as the savage knew; consequently, for the sake of +uniformity, he would try to put but one tone between, +singing a mixture of A and B♭, which sound in time fell +definitely to A, leaving the mystery of the half-tone +unsolved. This addition of the third would thus fall in +with the law of harmonics again. First we have the keynote; +next in importance comes the fifth; and last of all +the third. Thus again is the absence of the major seventh +in our primitive scale perfectly logical; we may search +in vain in our list of harmonics for the tone which forms +that interval. +</p> + +<p> +Now that we have traced the influence of passionate +utterance on music, it still remains for us to consider the +influence of something very different. The dance played +an important rôle in the shaping of the art of music; +for to it music owes periodicity, form, the shaping of +phrases into measures, even its rests. And in this music +is not the only debtor, for poetry owes its very “feet” to +the dance. +</p> + +<p> +Now the dance was, and is, an irresponsible thing. +It had no <i>raison d'être</i> except purely physical enjoyment. +This rhythmic swaying of the body and light tapping of +the feet have always had a mysterious attraction and +fascination for mankind, and music and poetry were +caught in its swaying measures early in the dawn of art. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page25" id="page25" title="25"></a> +When a man walks, he takes either long steps or short +steps, he walks fast or slow. But when he takes one +long step and one short one, when one step is slow and the +other fast, he no longer walks, he dances. Thus we may +say with reasonable certainty that triple time arose directly +from the dance, for triple time is simply one strong, long +beat followed by a short, light one, viz.: +<img src="images/trochee.png" width="54" height="26" alt="[2 4]" /> +or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" />,</span> +the “trochee” in our poetry. +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/iamb.png" width="131" height="26" alt="[4 2 | 4 2]" />,</span> +Iambic. +The spondee +<img src="images/spondee.png" width="75" height="26" alt="[2 2]" /> +or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" />,</span> +which is the rhythm of +prose, we already possessed; for when we walk it is in +spondees, namely, in groups of two equal steps. Now +imagine dancing to spondees! At first the steps will be +equal, but the body rests on the first beat; little by little +the second beat, being thus relegated to a position of +relative unimportance, becomes shorter and shorter, and +we rest longer on the first beat. The result is the trochaic +rhythm. We can see that this result is inevitable, even +if only the question of physical fatigue is considered. And, +to carry on our theory, this very question of fatigue still +further develops rhythm. The strong beat always coming +on one foot, and the light beat on the other, would soon +tire the dancer; therefore some way must be found to +make the strong beat alternate from one foot to the other. +The simplest, and in fact almost the only way to do this, +is to insert an additional short beat before the light beat. +This gives us +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /></span> +or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/dactyl.png" width="67" height="26" alt="[4. 8 4]" />,</span> +the dactyl in poetry. +</p> + +<p> +We have, moreover, here discovered the beginning of +form, and have begun to group our musical tones in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page26" id="page26" title="26"></a> +measures and phrases; for our second dactyl is slightly +different from the first, because the right foot begins the +first and the left foot the second. We have two measures +<img src="images/dactyl_phrase.png" width="155" height="45" + alt="[(4. 8 4 | 4. 8 4)] [(- ' - | - ' -)]" /> +and one phrase, for after the second +measure the right foot will again have the beat and will +begin another phrase of two measures. +</p> + +<p> +Carry this theory still further, and we shall make new +discoveries. If we dance in the open air, unless we would +dance over the horizon, we must turn somewhere; and if +we have but a small space in which to dance, the turns +must come sooner and oftener. Even if we danced in a +circle we should need to reverse the motion occasionally, +in order to avoid giddiness; and this would measure off +our phrases into periods and sections. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see music dividing into two classes, one purely +emotional, the other sensuous; the one arising from the +language of heroes, the other from the swaying of the +body and the patter of feet. To both of these elements, +if we may call them so, metre and melody brought their +power; to declamation, metre brought its potent vitality; +to the dance, melody added its soft charm and lulling +rhyme. The intellectual in music, namely, rhythm and +declamation, thus joined forces, as did the purely sensuous +elements, melody and metre (dance). At the first +glance it would seem as if the dance with its rhythms +contradicted the theory of rhythm as being one of the +two vital factors in music; but when we consider the fact +that dance-rhythms are merely regular pulsations (once +commenced they pulsate regularly to the end, without +<a class="pagebreak" name="page27" id="page27" title="27"></a> +break or change), and when we consider that just this +unbroken regularity is the very antithesis of what we +mean by rhythm, the purely sensuous nature of the +dance is manifest. Strauss was the first to recognize +this defect in the waltz, and he remedied it, so far as it +lay within human skill, by a marvellous use of counter-rhythms, +thus infusing into the dance a simulation of +intellectuality. +</p> + +<p> +The weaving together of these elements into one art-fabric +has been the ideal of all poets from Homer to +Wagner. The Greeks idealized their dances; that is to +say, they made their dances fit their declamation. In +the last two centuries, and especially in the middle of the +nineteenth, we have danced our highest flights of impassioned +speech. For what is the symphony, sonata, etc., +but a remnant of the dance form? The choric dances of +Stesichorus and Pindar came strangely near our modern +forms, but it was because the form fitted the poem. In +our modern days, we too often, Procrustes-like, make our +ideas to fit the forms. We put our guest, the poetic +thought, that comes to us like a homing bird from out the +mystery of the blue sky—we put this confiding stranger +straightway into that iron bed, the “sonata form,” or +perhaps even the third rondo form, for we have quite an +assortment. Should the idea survive and grow too large +for the bed, and if we have learned to love it too much to +cut off its feet and thus <i>make</i> it fit (as did that old robber +of Attica), why we run the risk of having some critic +wise in his theoretical knowledge, say, as was and is said +of Chopin, “He is weak in sonata form!” +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page28" id="page28" title="28"></a> +There are two ways of looking at music: first, as impassioned +speech, the nearest psychologically-complete utterance +of emotion known to man; second, as the dance, +comprising as it does all that appeals to our nature. And +there is much that is lovely in this idea of nature—for +do not the seasons dance, and is it not in that ancient +measure we have already spoken of, the trochaic? Long +Winter comes with heavy foot, and Spring is the light-footed. +Again, Summer is long, and Autumn short and +cheery; and so our phrase begins again and again. We +all know with what periodicity everything in nature dances, +and how the smallest flower is a marvel of recurring +rhymes and rhythms, with perfume for a melody. How +Shakespeare's Beatrice charms us when she says, “There +a star danced, and under that was I born.” +</p> + +<p> +And yet man is not part of Nature. Even in the +depths of the primeval forest, that poor savage, whom we +found listening fearfully to the sound of his drum, knew +better. Mankind lives in isolation, and Nature is a thing +for him to conquer. For Nature is a thing that exists, +while man <i>thinks</i>. Nature is that which passively lives +while man actively wills. It is the strain of Nature in +man that gave him the dance, and it is his godlike +fight against Nature that gave him impassioned speech; +beauty of form and motion on one side, all that is divine +in man on the other; on one side materialism, on the +other idealism. +</p> + +<p> +We have traced the origin of the drum, pipe, and the +voice in music. It still remains for us to speak of the +lyre and the lute, the ancestors of our modern stringed +<a class="pagebreak" name="page29" id="page29" title="29"></a> +instruments. The relative antiquity of the lyre and the +lute as compared with the harp has been much discussed, +the main contention against the lyre being that it is a +more artificial instrument than the harp; the harp was +played with the fingers alone, while the lyre was played +with a plectrum (a small piece of metal, wood, or ivory). +Perhaps it would be safer to take the lute as the earliest +form of the stringed instrument, for, from the very first, +we find two species of instruments with strings, one played +with the fingers, the prototype of our modern harps, +banjos, guitars, etc., the other played with the plectrum, +the ancestor of all our modern stringed instruments played +by means of bows and hammers, such as violins, pianos, +etc. +</p> + +<p> +However this may be, one thing is certain, the possession +of these instruments implies already a considerable +measure of culture, for they were not haphazard things. +They were made for a purpose, were invented to fill a gap +in the ever-increasing needs of expression. In Homer we +find a description of the making of a lyre by Hermes, +how this making of a lyre from the shell of a tortoise that +happened to pass before the entrance to the grotto of +his mother, Maïa, was his first exploit; and that he made +it to accompany his song in praise of his father Zeus. +We must accept this explanation of the origin of the lyre, +namely, that it was deliberately invented to accompany +the voice. For the lyre in its primitive state was never +a solo instrument; the tone was weak and its powers of +expression were exceedingly limited. On the other hand, +it furnished an excellent background for the voice and, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page30" id="page30" title="30"></a> +which was still more to the point, the singer could accompany +himself. The drum had too vague a pitch, and the +flute or pipe necessitated another performer, besides +having too much similarity of tone to the voice to give +sufficient contrast. Granted then that the lyre was +invented to accompany the voice, and without wasting +time with surmises as to whether the first idea of stringed +instruments was received from the twanging of a bowstring +or the finding of a tortoise shell with the half-dessicated +tendons of the animal still stretching across +it, let us find when the instrument was seemingly first +used. +</p> + +<p> +That the lyre and lute are of Asiatic origin is generally +conceded, and even in comparatively modern times, +Asia seems to be the home of its descendants. The +Tartars have been called the troubadours of Asia—and +of Asia in the widest sense of the word—penetrating +into the heart of the Caucasus on the west and reaching +through the country eastward to the shores of the Yellow +Sea. Marco Polo, the celebrated Venetian traveller, and +M. Huc, a French missionary to China and Thibet, as +well as Spencer, Atkinson, and many others, speak of the +wandering bards of Asia. Marco Polo's account of how +Jenghiz Kahn, the great Mongol conqueror, sent an expedition +composed entirely of minstrels against Mien, a city +of 30,000 inhabitants, has often been quoted to show +what an abundance—or perhaps superfluity would be +the better word—of musicians he had at his court. +</p> + +<p> +That the lyre could not be of Greek origin is proved +by the fact that no root has been discovered in the language +<a class="pagebreak" name="page31" id="page31" title="31"></a> +for <i>lyra</i>, although there are many special names for +varieties of the instrument. Leaving aside the question +of the geographical origin of the instrument, we may say, +broadly, that wherever we find a nation with even the +smallest approach to a history, there we shall find bards +singing of the exploits of heroes, and always to the +accompaniment of the lyre or the lute. For at last, by +means of these instruments, impassioned speech was +able to lift itself permanently above the level of everyday +life, and its lofty song could dispense with the soft, +sensuous lull of the flute. And we shall see later how +these bards became seers, and how even our very angels +received harps, so closely did the instrument become +associated with what I have called impassioned speech, +which, in other words, is the highest expression of what +we consider godlike in man. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page32" id="page32" title="32"></a> +III<br /><br /> +THE MUSIC OF THE HEBREWS AND THE HINDUS</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">The</span> +music of the Hebrews presents one of the most +interesting subjects in musical history, although it has an +unfortunate defect in common with so many kindred +subjects, namely, that the most learned dissertation must +invariably end with a question mark. When we read in +Josephus that Solomon had 200,000 singers, 40,000 +harpers, 40,000 sistrum players, and 200,000 trumpeters, +we simply do not believe it. Then too there is lack of +unanimity in the matter of the essential facts. One +authority, describing the <i>machol</i>, says it is a stringed instrument +resembling a modern viola; another describes it +as a wind instrument somewhat like a bagpipe; still +another says it is a metal ring with a bell attachment +like an Egyptian sistrum; and finally an equally respected +authority claims that the <i>machol</i> was not an instrument +at all, but a dance. Similarly the <i>maanim</i> has been described +as a trumpet, a kind of rattle box with metal +clappers, and we even have a full account in which it +figures as a violin. +</p> + +<p> +The temple songs which we know have evidently been +much changed by surrounding influences, just as in +modern synagogues the architecture has not held fast +to ancient Hebrew models but has been greatly influenced +<a class="pagebreak" name="page33" id="page33" title="33"></a> +by different countries and peoples. David may be considered +the founder of Hebrew music, and his reign has +been well called an “idyllic episode in the otherwise rather +grim history of Israel.” +</p> + +<p> +Of the instruments named in the Scriptures, that called +the harp in our English translation was probably the +<i>kinnor</i>, a kind of lyre played by means of a plectrum, +which was a small piece of metal, wood, or bone. The +psaltery or <i>nebel</i> (which was of course derived from the +Egyptian <i>nabla</i>, just as the <i>kinnor</i> probably was in some +mysterious manner derived from the Chinese <i>kin</i>) was a +kind of dulcimer or zither, an oblong box with strings +which were struck by small hammers. The timbrel +corresponds to our modern tambourine. The <i>schofar</i> +and <i>keren</i> were horns. The former was the well-known +ram's horn which is still blown on the occasion of the +Jewish New Year. +</p> + +<p> +In the Talmud mention is made of an organ consisting +of ten pipes which could give one hundred different sounds, +each pipe being able to produce ten tones. This mysterious +instrument was called <i>magrepha</i>, and although but +one Levite (the Levites were the professional musicians +among the Hebrews) was required to play it, and although +it was only about three feet in length, its sound was +so tremendous that it could be heard ten miles away. +Hieronymus speaks of having heard it on the Mount of +Olives when it was played in the Temple at Jerusalem. +To add to the mystery surrounding this instrument, it +has been proved by several learned authorities that it +was merely a large drum; and, to cap the climax, other +<a class="pagebreak" name="page34" id="page34" title="34"></a> +equally respected writers have declared that this instrument +was simply a large shovel which, after being used +for the sacrificial fire in the temple, was thrown to the +ground with a great noise, to inform the people that the +sacrifice was consummated. +</p> + +<p> +It is reasonably certain that the seemingly incongruous +titles to the Psalms were merely given to denote the +tune to which they were to be sung, just as in our modern +hymns we use the words <i>Canterbury</i>, <i>Old Hundredth</i>, +<i>China</i>, etc. +</p> + +<p> +The word <i>selah</i> has never been satisfactorily explained, +some readings giving as its meaning “forever,” “hallelujah,” +etc., while others say that it means repeat, an +inflection of the voice, a modulation to another key, an +instrumental interlude, a rest, and so on without end. +</p> + +<p> +Of one thing we may be certain regarding the ancient +Hebrews, namely, that their religion brought something +into the world that can never again be lost. It fostered +idealism, and gave mankind something pure and noble +to live for, a religion over which Christianity shed the +sunshine of divine mercy and hope. That the change +which was to be wrought in life was sharply defined may +be seen by comparing the great songs of the different +nations. For up to that time a song of praise meant +praise of a <i>King</i>. He was the sun that warmed men's +hearts, the being from whom all wisdom came, and to +whom men looked for mercy. If we compare the Egyptian +hymns with those of the Hebrews, the difference is +very striking. On the walls of the great temples of +Luxor and the Ramesseum at Thebes, as well as on the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page35" id="page35" title="35"></a> +wall of the temple of Abydos and in the main hall of the +great rock-hewn temple of Abu-Simbel, in Nubia, is +carved the “Epic of Pentaur,” the royal Egyptian scribe +of Rameses II: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +My king, his arms are mighty, his heart is firm. He bends his +bow and none can resist him. Mightier than a hundred thousand +men he marches forward. His counsel is wise and when he wears +the royal crown, Alef, and declares his will, he is the protector of +his people. His heart is like a mountain of iron. Such is King +Rameses. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +If we turn to the Hebrew prophets, this is their song: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +The mountains melted from before the Lord and before Him +went the pestilence; burning coals went forth at His feet. Hell is +naked before Him and destruction hath no covering. He hangeth +the earth upon nothing and the pillars of heaven tremble and are +astonished at His reproof. Though He slay me, yet will I trust in +Him. For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and at the last day +He shall stand upon the earth. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +As with the Hebrews, music among the Hindus was +closely bound to religion. When, 3000 years before the +Christian era, that wonderful, tall, white Aryan race of +men descended upon India from the north, its poets +already sang of the gods, and the Aryan gods were of a +different order from those known to that part of the +world; for they were beautiful in shape, and friendly to +man, in great contrast to the gods of the Davidians, the +pre-Aryan race and stock of the Deccan. These songs +formed the <i>Rig-Veda</i>, and are the nucleus from which all +Hindu religion and art emanate. +</p> + +<p> +We already know that when the auxiliary speech which +we call music was first discovered, or, to use the language +<a class="pagebreak" name="page36" id="page36" title="36"></a> +of all primitive nations, when it was first bestowed on +man by the gods, it retained much of the supernatural +potency that its origin would suggest. In India, music +was invested with divine power, and certain hymns—especially +the prayer or chant of Vashishtha—were, +according to the <i>Rig-Veda</i>, all powerful in battle. Such +a magic song, or chant, was called a <i>brahma</i>, and he who +sang it a <i>brahmin</i>. Thus the very foundation of Brahminism, +from which rose Buddhism in the sixth century +B.C., can be traced back to the music of the sacred songs +of the <i>Rig-Veda</i> of India. The priestly or Brahmin +caste grew therefore from the singers of the Vedic hymns. +The Brahmins were not merely the keepers of the sacred +books, or Vedas, the philosophy, science, and laws of the +ancient Hindus (for that is how the power of the caste +developed), but they were also the creators and custodians +of its secular literature and art. Two and a half thousand +years later Prince Gautama or Buddha died, after a life +of self-sacrifice and sanctity. On his death five hundred +of his disciples met in a cave near Rajagriha to gather +together his sayings, and chanted the lessons of their +great master. These songs became the bible of Buddhism, +just as the <i>Vedas</i> are the bible of Brahminism, for the +Hindu word for a Buddhist council means literally “a +singing together.” +</p> + +<p> +Besides the sacred songs of the Brahmins and Buddhists, +the Hindus had many others, some of which partook of +the occult powers of the hymns, occult powers that were +as strongly marked as those of Hebrew music. For +while the latter are revealed in the playing of David +<a class="pagebreak" name="page37" id="page37" title="37"></a> +before Saul, in the influence of music on prophecy, the +falling of the walls of Jericho at the sound of the trumpets +of Joshua, etc., in India the same supernatural power +was ascribed to certain songs. For instance, there were +songs that could be sung only by the gods, and one of +them, so the legend runs, if sung by a mortal, would +envelop the singer in flames. The last instance of the +singing of this song was during the reign of Akbar, the +great Mogul emperor (about 1575 A.D.). At his command +the singer sang it standing up to his neck in the +river Djaumna, which, however, did not save him, for, +according to the account, the water around him boiled, +and he was finally consumed by a flame of fire. Another +of Akbar's singers caused the palace to be wrapped in +darkness by means of one of these magic songs, and +another averted a famine by causing rain to fall when +the country was threatened by drought. Animals were +also tamed by means of certain songs, the only relic of +which is found in the serpent charmers' melodies, which, +played on a kind of pipe, seem to possess the power of +controlling cobras and the other snakes exhibited by the +Indian fakirs. +</p> + +<p> +Many years before Gautama's time, the brahmas or +singers of sacred songs of ancient India formed themselves +into a caste or priesthood; and the word “Brahma,” from +meaning a sacred singer, became the name of the supreme +deity; in time, as the nation grew, other gods were taken +into the religion. Thus we find in pre-Buddha times the +trinity of gods: Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, with their +wives, Sarasvati or learning, Lakshmi or beauty, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page38" id="page38" title="38"></a> +Paravati, who was also called Kali, Durga, and Mahadevi, +and was practically the goddess of evil. Of these gods +Brahma's consort, Sarasvati, the goddess of speech and +learning, brought to earth the art of music, and gave to +mankind the <i>Vina</i>. +</p> + +<p> +This instrument is still in use and may be called the +national instrument of India. It is composed of a cylindrical +pipe, often bamboo, about three and a half feet +long, at each end of which is fixed a hollow gourd to +increase the tone. It is strung lengthwise with seven +metal wires held up by nineteen wooden bridges, just as +the violin strings are supported by a bridge. The scale of +the instrument proceeds in half tones from +<a href="midi/vina_range.midi"><img src="images/vina_range.png" + width="130" height="46" alt="[F: a,] to [G: b'']" /></a><br /> +The tones are produced by plucking the strings with the +fingers (which are covered with a kind of metal thimble), +and the instrument is held so that one of the gourds hangs +over the left shoulder, just as one would hold a very long-necked +banjo. +</p> + +<p> +It is to the Krishna incarnation of Vishnu that the +Hindu scale is ascribed. According to the legend, Krishna +or Vishnu came to earth and took the form of a shepherd, +and the nymphs sang to him in many thousand different +keys, of which from twenty-four to thirty-six are known +and form the basis of Hindu music. To be sure these +keys, being formed by different successions of quarter-tones, +are practically inexhaustible, and the 16,000 keys +of Krishna are quite practicable. The differences in +tone, however, were so very slight that only a few, of +them have been retained to the present time. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page39" id="page39" title="39"></a> +The Hindus get their flute from the god Indra, who, +from being originally the all-powerful deity, was relegated +by Brahminism to the chief place among the minor gods—from +being the god of light and air he came to be the god +of music. His retinue consisted of the <i>gandharvas</i>, and +<i>apsaras</i>, or celestial musicians and nymphs, who sang +magic songs. After the rise and downfall of Buddhism +in India the term <i>raga</i> degenerated to a name for a merely +improvised chant to which no occult power was ascribed. +</p> + +<p> +The principal characteristics in modern Hindu music +are a seemingly instinctive sense of harmony; and although +the actual chords are absent, the melodic formation +of the songs plainly indicates a feeling for modern +harmony, and even form. The actual scale resembles +our European scale of twelve semitones (twenty-two +<i>s'rutis</i>, quarter-tones), but the modal development of these +sounds has been extraordinary. Now a “mode” is the +manner in which the notes of a scale are arranged. For +instance, in our major mode the scale is arranged as follows: +tone, tone, semitone, tone, tone, tone, semitone. +In India there are at present seventy-two modes in use +which are produced by making seventy-two different +arrangements of the scale by means of sharps and flats, +the only rule being that each degree of the scale must be +represented; for instance, one of the modes <i>Dehrásan-Karabhárna</i> +corresponds to our major scale. Our minor +(harmonic) scale figures as <i>Kyravâni</i>. <i>Tânarupi</i> corresponds +to the following succession of notes, +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/tanarupi.midi"><img src="images/scale_tanarupi.png" + width="352" height="49" + alt="[G: c' d-' e--' f' g' a+' b' c'']" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page40" id="page40" title="40"></a> +<i>Gavambódi</i>, to +<a href="midi/gavambodi.midi"><img src="images/scale_gavambodi.png" + width="361" height="49" alt="[G: c' d-' e-' f+' g' a-' b--' c'']" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +<i>Máya-Mâlavagaula</i>, to +<a href="midi/maya.midi"><img src="images/scale_maya.png" + width="350" height="49" alt="[G: c' d' e-' f' g-' a' b-' c'']" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +It can thus easily be seen how the seventy-two modes are +possible and practicable. Observe that the seven degrees +of the scale are all represented in these modes, the difference +between them being in the placing of half-tones by +means of sharps or flats. Not content with the complexity +that this modal system brought into their music, the +Hindus have increased it still more by inventing a number +of formulæ called <i>ragas</i> (not to be confounded with +those rhapsodical songs, the modern descendant of the +magic chants, previously mentioned). +</p> + +<p> +In making a Hindu melody (which of course must be +in one of the seventy-two modes, just as in English we +should say that a melody must be in one of our two +modes, either major or minor) one would have to conform +to one of the <i>ragas</i>, that is to say, the melodic outline +would have to conform to certain rules, both in ascending +and descending. These rules consist of omitting notes +of the modes, in one manner when the melody ascends, +and in another when it descends. Thus, in the <i>raga</i> +called <i>Mohànna</i>, in ascending the notes must be arranged +in the following order: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8; in descending it +is 8, 7, 5, 4, 2, 1. Thus if we wished to write a melody +in the mode <i>Tânarupi</i>—<i>raga Mohànna</i>—we could +never use the fourth, F, or the seventh, B, if our melody +ascended; if our melody descended we should have to +avoid the sixth, A♯, and the third, E♭♭. As one can +<a class="pagebreak" name="page41" id="page41" title="41"></a> +easily perceive, many strange melodic effects are produced +by these means. For instance, in the <i>raga Mohànna</i>, +in which the fourth and seventh degrees of the +scale are avoided in ascending, if it were employed in +the mode <i>Dehrásin-Karabhárna</i>, which corresponds to our +own major scale, it would have a pronounced Scotch +tinge so long as the melody ascended; but let it <i>descend</i> +and the Scotch element is deserted for a decided North +American Indian, notably Sioux tinge. The Hindus are +an imaginative race, and invest all these <i>ragas</i> and modes +with mysterious attributes, such as anger, love, fear, +and so on. They were even personified as supernatural +beings; each had his or her special name and history. It +was proper to use some of them only at midday, some in +the morning, and some at night. If the mode or <i>raga</i> +is changed during a piece, it is expressed in words, by +saying, for instance, that “<i>Mohànna</i>” (the new “<i>raga</i>”) +is here introduced to the family of <i>Tânarupi</i>. The +melodies formed from these modes and <i>ragas</i> are divided +into four classes, <i>Rektah</i>, <i>Teranah</i>, <i>Tuppah</i>, and <i>Ragni</i>. +The <i>Rektah</i> is in character light and flowing. It falls +naturally into regular periods, and resembles the <i>Teranah</i>, +with the exception that the latter is only sung by men. +The character of the <i>Tuppah</i> is not very clear, but the +<i>Ragni</i> is a direct descendant of the old magic songs and +incantations; in character it is rhapsodical and spasmodic. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page42" id="page42" title="42"></a> +IV<br /><br /> +THE MUSIC OF THE EGYPTIANS, ASSYRIANS, AND CHINESE</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +speaking of the music of antiquity we are seriously +hampered by the fact that there is practically no actual +music in existence which dates back farther than the +eighth or tenth century of the present era. Even those +well-known specimens of Greek music, as they are claimed +to be, the hymns to Apollo, Nemesis, and Calliope, do not +date farther back than the third or fourth century, and +even these are by no means generally considered authentic. +Therefore, so far as actual sounds go, all music of +which we have any practical knowledge dates from about +the twelfth century. +</p> + +<p> +Theoretically, we have the most minute knowledge of +the scientific aspect of music, dating from more than +five hundred years before the Christian era. This knowledge, +however, is worse than valueless, for it is misleading. +For instance, it would be a very difficult thing for posterity +to form any idea as to what our music was like if +all the actual music in the world at the present time +were destroyed, and only certain scientific works such +as that of Helmholtz on acoustics and a few theoretical +treatises on harmony, form, counterpoint and fugue were +saved. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page43" id="page43" title="43"></a> +From Helmholtz's analysis of sounds one would get the +idea that the so-called tempered scale of our pianos caused +thirds and sixths to sound discordantly. +</p> + +<p> +From the books on harmony one would gather that +consecutive fifths and octaves and a number of other +things were never indulged in by composers, and to cap +the climax one would naturally accept the harmony +exercises contained in the books as being the very acme +of what we loved best in music. Thus we see that any +investigation into the music of antiquity must be more +or less conjectural. +</p> + +<p> +Let us begin with the music of the Egyptians. The +oldest existing musical instrument of which we have any +knowledge is an Egyptian lyre to be found in the Berlin +Royal Museum. It is about four thousand years old, +dating from the period just before the expulsion of the +Hyksos or “Shepherd” kings. +</p> + +<p> +At that time (the beginning of the eighteenth dynasty, +1500–2000 B.C.) Egypt was just recovering from her +five hundred years of bondage, and music must already +have reached a wonderful state of development. In +wall paintings of the eighteenth dynasty we see flutes, +double flutes, and harps of all sizes, from the small one +carried in the hand, to the great harps, almost seven feet +high, with twenty-one strings; the never-failing sistrum +(a kind of rattle); kitharas, the ancestors of our modern +guitars; lutes and lyres, the very first in the line of instruments +culminating in the modern piano. +</p> + +<p> +One hesitates to class the trumpets of the Egyptians in +the same category, for they were war instruments, the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page44" id="page44" title="44"></a> +tone of which was probably always forced, for Herodotus +says that they sounded like the braying of a donkey. +The fact that the cheeks of the trumpeter were reinforced +with leather straps would further indicate that the instruments +were used only for loud signalling. +</p> + +<p> +According to the mural paintings and sculptures in +the tombs of the Egyptians, all these instruments were +played together, and accompanied the voice. It has long +been maintained that harmony was unknown to the +ancients because of the mathematical measurement of +sounds. This might be plausible for strings, but pipes +could be cut to any size. The positions of the hands of +the executants on the harps and lyres, as well as the use of +short and long pipes, make it appear probable that something +of what we call harmony was known to the Egyptians. +</p> + +<p> +We must also consider that their paintings and sculptures +were eminently symbolic. When one carves an +explanation in hard granite it is apt to be done in shorthand, +as it were. Thus, a tree meant a forest, a prisoner +meant a whole army; therefore, two sculptured harpists +or flute players may stand for twenty or two hundred. +Athenæus, who lived at the end of the second and beginning +of the third century, A.D., speaks of orchestras of +six hundred in Ptolemy Philadelphus's time (300 B.C.), +and says that three hundred of the players were harpers, +in which number he probably includes players on other +stringed instruments, such as lutes and lyres. It is therefore +to be inferred that the other three hundred played wind +and percussion instruments. This is an additional reason +for conjecturing that they used chords in their music; for +<a class="pagebreak" name="page45" id="page45" title="45"></a> +six hundred players, not to count the singers, would hardly +play entirely in unison or in octaves. The very nature +of the harp is chordal, and the sculptures always depict +the performer playing with both hands, the fingers being +more or less outstretched. That the music must have +been of a deep, sonorous character, we may gather from +the great size of the harps and the thickness of their +strings. As for the flutes, they also are pictured as being +very long; therefore they must have been low in pitch. +The reed pipes, judging from the pictures and sculptures, +were no higher in pitch than our oboes, of which +the highest note is D and E above the treble staff. +</p> + +<p> +It is claimed that so far as the harps were concerned, +the music must have been strictly diatonic in character. +To quote Rowbotham, “the harp, which was the foundation +of the Egyptian orchestra, is an essentially non-chromatic +instrument, and could therefore only play a +straight up and down diatonic scale.” Continuing he +says, “It is plain therefore that the Egyptian harmony +was purely diatonic; such a thing as modern modulation +was unknown, and every piece from beginning to end was +played in the same key.” That this position is utterly +untenable is very evident, for there was nothing to prevent +the Egyptians from tuning their harps in the same +order of tones and half tones as is used for our modern +pianos. That this is even probable may be assumed +from the scale of a flute dating back to the eighteenth +or nineteenth century B.C. (1700 or 1600 B.C.), which +was found in the royal tombs at Thebes, and which is +now in the Florence Museum. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page46" id="page46" title="46"></a> +Its scale was +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/flute_scale.midi"><img src="images/scale_flute.png" + width="511" height="76" + alt="[G: (a a+ b c' c+' d') (a' a+' b' c'' c+'' d'') (e'') + f'' f+'' g'' g+'' (a'' a+'' b'' c''' c+''' d''')]" /></a> +</p> + +<p> +The only thing about which we may be reasonably +certain in regard to Egyptian music is that, like Egyptian +architecture, it must have been very massive, on account +of the preponderance in the orchestra of the low tones of +the stringed instruments. +</p> + +<p> +The sistrum was, properly speaking, not considered a +musical instrument at all. It was used only in religious +ceremonies, and may be considered as the ancestor of the +bell that is rung at the elevation of the Host in Roman +Catholic churches. Herodotus (born 485 B.C.) tells us +much about Egyptian music, how the great festival at Bubastis +in honour of the Egyptian Diana (<i>Bast</i> or <i>Pascht</i>), to +whom the cat was sacred, was attended yearly by 700,000 +people who came by water, the boats resounding with the +clatter of castanets, the clapping of hands, and the soft +tones of thousands of flutes. Again he tells us of music +played during banquets, and speaks of a mournful song +called <i>Maneros</i>. This, the oldest song of the Egyptians +(dating back to the first dynasty), was symbolical of the +passing away of life, and was sung in connection with that +gruesome custom of bringing in, towards the end of a banquet, +an effigy of a corpse to remind the guests that death +is the birthright of all mankind, a custom which was +adopted later by the Romans. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page47" id="page47" title="47"></a> +Herodotus also gives us a vague but very suggestive +glimpse of what may have been the genesis of Greek +tragedy, for he was permitted to see a kind of nocturnal +Egyptian passion play, in which evidently the tragedy +of Osiris was enacted with ghastly realism. Osiris, who +represents the light, is hunted by Set or Typhon, the god +of darkness, and finally torn to pieces by the followers +of Set, and buried beneath the waters of the lake; Horus, +the son of Osiris, avenges his death by subduing Set, and +Osiris appears again as the ruler of the shadowland of +death. +</p> + +<p> +This strange tragedy took place at night, on the shore +of the lake behind the great temple at Saïs. Osiris was +dressed royally, in white, and after the horrible pursuit +and his murder by Set and his sinister band, Horus, +the rising sun, dispels the gloom, and a glorious new god +of light appears. Set and his followers are driven back +to the gloomy temple where, perhaps, there was another +scene showing the shade of Osiris, enthroned and ruling +the dead. We have no means of knowing the character +of the music which accompanied this mystery play; but +certainly the deep tones of the harps and the flutes, +together with the chanting of men's voices, must have +been appropriate. Add to these the almost silent rattle +of the sistrum, which, for the Egyptians, possessed something +of the supernatural, and we have an orchestral +colouring which is suggestive, to say the least. +</p> + +<p> +With this we will leave Egyptian music, simply calling +attention to the works of Resellini, Lepsius, Wilkinson, +and Petri, which contain copies of mural paintings and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page48" id="page48" title="48"></a> +temple and tomb sculptures relating to music. For +instance, pages 103, 106, and 111 of Lepsius's third +book, “Die Denkmäler aus Ægypten und Æthiopen,” +will be found very interesting, particularly page 106, which +shows some of the rooms of the palace of Amenotep IV, +of the eighteenth dynasty (about 1500 or 1600 B.C.), +in which dancing and music is being taught. In the +same work, second book, on pages 52 and 53, are pictures +taken from a tomb near Gizeh, showing harp and flute +players and singers. The position of the hands of the +singers—they hold them behind their ears—is a manner +of illustrating the act of hearing, and arises from the +hieroglyphic <i>double</i> way of putting things; for instance, +in writing hieroglyphics the word is often first spelled out, +then comes another sign for the pronunciation, then sometimes +even two other signs to emphasize its meaning. +</p> + +<p> +The music of the Assyrians may be summed up very +briefly. All that can be gathered from the bas-relief +sculptures is that shrill tones and acute pitch must have +characterized their music. As Rowbotham says, alluding +to the Sardanapalus wall sculpture now in the British +Museum in London, “What can one think of the musical +delicacy of a nation the King of which, dining alone with +his queen, chooses to be regaled with the sounds of a +lyre and a big drum close at his elbow?” The instruments +represented in these bas-reliefs, aside from the +drum, are high-pitched: flutes, pipes, trumpets, cymbals, +and the smaller stringed instruments. These were all +portable, and some, such as drums and dulcimers, were +strapped to the body, all of which points to the eminently +<a class="pagebreak" name="page49" id="page49" title="49"></a> +warlike character of the people. Instead of clapping the +hands to mark the time as did the Egyptians, they stamped +their feet. The dulcimer was somewhat like a modern +zither, and may be said to contain the germ of our piano; +for it was in the form of a flat case, strapped to the body +and held horizontally in front of the player. The strings +were struck with a kind of plectrum, held in the right +hand, and were touched with the left hand immediately +afterwards to stop the vibration, just as the dampers in +the pianoforte fall on the string the moment the key is +released. There existed among the Chaldeans a science +of music, which, of course, is a very different thing from +practical music, but it was so imbued with astronomical +symbolism that it seems hardly worth while to consider +it here. The art of Babylonia and Assyria culminated +in architecture and bas-relief sculpture, and it is chiefly +valuable as being the germ from which Greek art was +developed. +</p> + +<p> +In considering Chinese music one has somewhat the +same feeling as one would have in looking across a flat +plain. There are no mountains in Chinese music, and there +is nothing in its history to make us think that it was ever +anything but a more or less puerile playing with sound; +therefore there is no separating modern Chinese music +from that of antiquity. To be sure, Confucius (about +500 B.C.) said that to be well governed a nation must +possess good music. Pythagoras, Aristotle, and Plato, in +Greece, said the same thing, and their maxims proved a +very important factor in the music of ancient times, for +the simple reason that an art controlled by government +<a class="pagebreak" name="page50" id="page50" title="50"></a> +can have nothing very vital about it. Hebrew music +was utterly annihilated by laws, and the poetic imagination +thus pent up found its vent in poetry, the result +being some of the most wonderful works the world +has ever known. In Egypt, this current of inspiration +from the very beginning was turned toward architecture. +In Greece, music became a mere stage accessory or a +subject for the dissecting table of mathematics; in China, +we have the dead level of an obstinate adherence to +tradition, thus proving Sir Thomas Browne's saying, +“The mortallest enemy unto knowledge, and that which +hath done the greatest execution upon truth, hath been a +peremptory adhesion unto tradition, and more especially +the establishing of our own belief upon the dictates of +antiquity.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chinese theory is that there are eight different +musical sounds in nature, namely: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<ol> +<li>The sound of skin.</li> +<li>The sound of stone.</li> +<li>The sound of metal.</li> +<li>The sound of clay.</li> +<li>The sound of silk.</li> +<li>The sound of wood.</li> +<li>The sound of bamboo.</li> +<li>The sound of gourd.</li> +</ol> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The sound of skin has a number of varieties, all different +kinds of drums. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of stone is held by the Chinese to be the +most beautiful among sounds, one between that of metal +and of wood. The principal instrument in this category +<a class="pagebreak" name="page51" id="page51" title="51"></a> +is the <i>king</i>, and in mythology it is the chosen instrument +of Kouei, the Chinese Orpheus. This instrument has a +large framework on which are hung sixteen stones of +different sizes, which are struck, like drums, with a kind +of hammer. According to Amiot, only a certain kind of +stone found near the banks of the river Tee will serve for +the making of these instruments, and in the year 2200 B.C. +the Emperor Yu assessed the different provinces so many +stones each for the palace instruments, in place of tribute. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of metal is embodied in the various kinds +of bells, which are arranged in many different series, +sometimes after the patterns of the <i>king</i>, while sometimes +they are played separately. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of clay, or baked earth, is given by a kind +of round egg made of porcelain—for that is what it +amounts to—pierced with five holes and a mouthpiece, +upon blowing through which the sound is produced—an +instrument somewhat suggestive of our ocarina. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of silk is given by two instruments: one +a kind of flat harp with seven strings, called <i>che</i>, the +other with twenty-five strings, called <i>kin</i>, in size from +seven to nine feet long. The ancient form of this instrument +is said to have had fifty strings. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of wood is a strange element in a Chinese +orchestra, for it is produced in three different ways: +first, by an instrument in the form of a square wooden +box with a hole in one of its sides through which the +hand, holding a small mallet, is inserted, the sound of +wood being produced by hammering with the mallet on +the inside walls of the box, just as the clapper strikes a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page52" id="page52" title="52"></a> +bell. This box is placed at the northeast corner of the +orchestra, and begins every piece. Second, by a set of +strips of wood strung on a strap or cord, the sound of which +is obtained by beating the palm of the hand with them. +The third is the strangest of all, for the instrument consists +of a life-size wooden tiger. It has a number of teeth +or pegs along the ridge of its back, and it is “played” +by stroking these pegs rapidly with a wooden staff, and +then striking the tiger on the head. This is the prescribed +end of every Chinese orchestral composition, and +is supposed to be a symbol of man's supremacy over +brute creation. The tiger has its place in the northwest +corner of the orchestra. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of bamboo is represented in the familiar +form of Pan's pipes, and various forms of flutes which +hardly need further description. +</p> + +<p> +And finally the sound of the gourd. The gourd is a kind +of squash, hollowed out, in which from thirteen to twenty-four +pipes of bamboo or metal are inserted; each one of these +pipes contains a metal reed, the vibration of which causes +the sound. Below the reed are cut small holes in the pipes, +and there is a pipe with a mouthpiece to keep the gourd, +which is practically an air reservoir, full of air. The air +rushing out through the bamboo pipes will naturally +escape through the holes cut below the reeds, making no +sound, but if the finger stops one or more of these holes, +the air is forced up through the reeds, thus giving a musical +sound, the pitch of which will be dependent on the +length of the pipes and the force with which the air passes +through the reed. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page53" id="page53" title="53"></a> +Other instruments of the Chinese are gongs of all +sizes, trumpets, and several stringed instruments somewhat +akin to our guitars and mandolins. Neither the +Chinese nor the Japanese have ever seemed to consider +the voice as partaking of the nature of music. This is +strange, for the language of the Chinese depends on +flexibility of the voice to make it even intelligible. As a +matter of fact, singing, in our sense of the word, is unknown +to them. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page54" id="page54" title="54"></a> +V<br /><br /> +THE MUSIC OF THE CHINESE (<i>Continued</i>)</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">Having</span> +described the musical instruments in use in +China we still have for consideration the music itself, +and the conditions which led up to it. +</p> + +<p> +Among the Chinese instruments mentioned in the preceding +chapter, the preponderance of instruments of +percussion, such as drums, gongs, bells, etc., has probably +been noticed. In connection with the last named +we meet with one of the two cases in Chinese art in which +we see the same undercurrent of feeling, or rather superstition, +as that found among western nations. We read +in the writings of Mencius, the Chinese philosopher (350 +B.C.), the following bit of gossip about the king Senen +of Tse. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush"> +<p> +“The king,” said he, “was sitting aloft in the hall, when +a man appeared, leading an ox past the lower part of it. +The king saw him, and asked, ‘Where is the ox going?’ +</p> + +<p> +“The man replied, ‘We are going to consecrate a bell +with its blood.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The king said, ‘Let it go. I cannot bear its frightened +appearance as if it were an innocent person going to the +place of death.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The man answered, ‘Shall we then omit the consecration +of the bell?’ +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page55" id="page55" title="55"></a> +“The king said, ‘How can that be omitted? Change +the ox for a sheep.’” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +As stated before, this is one of the few cases in which +Chinese superstition coincides with that of the West; +for our own church bells were once consecrated in very +much the same manner, a survival of that ancient universal +custom of sacrifice. With the exception of this +resemblance, which, however, has nothing to do with +actual music, everything in Chinese art is exactly the +opposite of our western ideas on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +The Chinese orchestra is composed of about sixteen +different types of percussion instruments and four kinds of +wind and stringed instruments, whereas in our European +orchestras the ratio is exactly reversed. Their orchestras +are placed at the back of the stage, ours in front of it. +The human voice is not even mentioned in their list of +musical sounds (sound of metal, baked clay, wood, +skin, bamboo, etc)., whereas we consider it the most +nearly perfect instrument existing. This strange perversity +once caused much discussion in days when we knew +less of China than we do at present, as to whether the +Chinese organs of hearing were not entirely different +from those of western nations. We now know that this +contradiction runs through all their habits of life. With +them white is the colour indicative of mourning; the +place of honour is on the left hand; the seat of intellect +is in the stomach; to take off one's hat is considered an +insolent gesture; the magnetic needle of the Chinese compass +is reckoned as pointing south, instead of north; even +up to the middle of the nineteenth century the chief weapon +<a class="pagebreak" name="page56" id="page56" title="56"></a> +in war was the bow and arrow, although they were long before +acquainted with gunpowder—and so on, <i>ad infinitum</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We are aware that the drum is the most primitive instrument +known to man. If all our knowledge of the Chinese +were included in a simple list of their orchestral instruments, +we should recognize at once that the possession +of the gourd, mouth-organ, and lute indicates a nation +which has reached a high state of civilization; on the +other hand, the great preponderance of bells, gongs, drums, +etc., points unmistakably to the fact that veneration of +the laws and traditions of the past (a past of savage barbarism), +and a blind acquiescence in them, must constitute +the principal factor in that civilization. The writings +of Chinese philosophers are full of wise sayings about +music, but in practice the music itself becomes almost +unbearable. <a name="ft02"></a>For instance, in the Confucian <i>Analects</i> we +read, “The Master +(Confucius)<a class="fn" href="#fn02"> 2 </a> +said: ‘How to play music +may be known. At the commencement of the piece, all +the parts should sound together. As it proceeds, they +should be in harmony, severally distinct, and flowing +without a break, and thus on to the conclusion.’” The +definition is certainly remarkable when one considers +that it was given about five hundred years before our +era. In practice, however, the Chinese do not distinguish +between musical <i>combinations</i> of sound and <i>noise</i>; therefore +the above definition must be taken in a very different +sense from that which ordinarily would be the case. By +harmony, Confucius evidently means similarity of noises, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page57" id="page57" title="57"></a> +and by “melody flowing without a break” he means +absolute monotony of rhythm. We know this from the +hymns to the ancestors which, with the hymns to the +Deity, are the sacred songs of China, songs which have +come down from time immemorial. +</p> + +<p> +According to Amiot one of the great court functions +is the singing of the “Hymn to the Ancestors,” which is +conducted by the Emperor. Outside the hall where this +ceremony takes place are stationed a number of bell and +gong players who may not enter, but who, from time to +time, according to fixed laws, join in the music played and +sung inside. In the hall the orchestra is arranged in the +order prescribed by law: the <i>ou</i>, or wooden tiger, which +ends every piece, is placed at the northwest end of the +orchestra, and the <i>tschou</i>, or wooden box-drum, which +begins the music, at the northeast; in the middle are +placed the singers who accompany the hymn by posturing +as well as by chanting. At the back of the hall are +pictures of the ancestors, or merely tablets inscribed +with their names, before which is a kind of altar, bearing +flowers and offerings. The first verse of the hymn consists +of eight lines in praise of the godlike virtues of the ancestors, +whose spirits are supposed to descend from Heaven +and enter the hall during the singing of this verse by +the chorus. Then the Emperor prostrates himself three +times before the altar, touching his head to the earth +each time. As he offers the libations and burns the perfumes +on the altar, the chorus sings the second verse of +eight lines, in which the spirits are thanked for answering +the prayer and entreated to accept the offerings. The +<a class="pagebreak" name="page58" id="page58" title="58"></a> +Emperor then prostrates himself nine times, after which +he resumes his position before the altar, while the last +verse of eight lines, eulogistic of the ancestors, is being +chanted; during this the spirits are supposed to ascend +again to Heaven. The hymn ends with the scraping of +the tiger's back and striking it on the head. +</p> + +<p> +We can imagine the partial gloom of this species of +chapel, lighted by many burning, smoky joss-sticks, with +its glint of many-coloured silks, and gold embroidery; the +whining, nasal, half-spoken, monotonous drone of the +singers with their writhing figures bespangled with gold +and vivid colour; the incessant stream of shrill tones from +the wind instruments; the wavering, light clatter of the +musical stones broken by the steady crash of gongs and +the deep booming of large drums; while from outside, the +most monstrous bell-like noises vaguely penetrate the +smoke-laden atmosphere. The ceremony must be barbarously +impressive; the strange magnificence of it all, together +with the belief in the actual presence of the spirits, +which the vague white wreaths of joss-stick smoke help to +suggest, seem to lend it dignity. From the point of view +of what we call music, the hymn is childish enough; but +we must keep in mind the definition of Confucius. According +to the Chinese, music includes that phase of sound +which we call mere noise, and the harmonizing of this +noise is Chinese art. We must admit, therefore, that +from this point of view their orchestra is well balanced, +for what will rhyme better with noise than more noise? +The gong is best answered by the drum, and the tomtom +by the great bell. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page59" id="page59" title="59"></a> +China also has its folk song, which seems to be an +irrepressible flower of the field in all countries. This also +follows the precepts of the sages in using only the five-note +or pentatonic scale found among so many other +nationalities. It differs, however, from the official or +religious music, inasmuch as that unrhythmic perfection +of monotony, so loved by Confucius, Mencius, and their +followers, is discarded in favour of a style more naturally +in touch with human emotion. These folk songs have a +strong similarity to Scotch and Irish songs, owing to the +absence of the fourth and seventh degrees of the scale. +If they were really sung to the accompaniment of chords, +the resemblance would be very striking. The Chinese +singing voice, however, is not sonorous, the quality +commonly used being a kind of high, nasal whine, very far +removed from what we call music. The accompaniment +of the songs is of a character most discordant to European +ears, consisting as it does mainly of constant drum or +gong beats interspersed with the shrill notes of the <i>kin</i>, +the principal Chinese stringed instrument. Ambros, the +historian, quotes a number of these melodies, but falls +into a strange mistake, for his version of a folk song +called “<i>Tsin-fa</i>” is as follows: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure01.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page60" id="page60" title="60"></a> +<img src="images/figure01.png" width="541" height="409" alt="[Figure 01]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +Now this is exactly as if a Chinaman, wishing to give his +countrymen an idea of a Beethoven sonata, were to eliminate +all the harmony and leave only the bare melody +accompanied by indiscriminate beats on the gong and a +steady banging on two or three drums of different sizes. +This is certainly the manner in which the little melody +just quoted would be accompanied, and not by European +chords and rhythms. +</p> + +<p> +If we could eliminate from our minds all thoughts of +music and bring ourselves to listen only to the <i>texture</i> +of sounds, we could better understand the Chinese ideal +of musical art. For instance, if in listening to the deep, +slow vibrations of a large gong we ignore completely all +thought of pitch, fixing our attention only upon the +roundness and fullness of the sound and the way it gradually +diminishes in volume without losing any of its pulsating +colour, we should then realize what the Chinese +call music. Confucius said, “When the music master +<a class="pagebreak" name="page61" id="page61" title="61"></a> +Che first entered on his office, the finish with the <i>Kwan-Ts'eu</i> +(Pan's-pipes) was magnificent—how it filled the +ears!” <a name="ft03"></a>And that is just what Chinese music aims to +do, it “fills the ears” and therefore is +“magnificent.”<a class="fn" href="#fn03"> 3 </a> +</p> + +<p> +With their views as to what constitutes the beautiful +in music it is not strange that the Chinese find our music +detestable. It goes too fast for them. They ask, “Why +play another entirely different kind of sound until one +has already enjoyed to the full what has gone before?” +As they told Père Amiot many years ago: “Our music +penetrates through the ear to the heart, and from the +heart to the soul; that your music cannot do.” Amiot +had played on a harpsichord some pieces by Rameau +(“<i>Les Cyclopes</i>,” “<i>Les Charmes</i>,” etc.) and much flute +music, but they could make nothing of it. +</p> + +<p> +According to their conception of music, sounds must +follow one another slowly, in order to pass through the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page62" id="page62" title="62"></a> +ears to the heart and thence to the soul; therefore they +went back with renewed satisfaction to their long, monotonous +chant accompanied by a pulsating fog of clangour. +</p> + +<p> +Some years ago, at the time of that sudden desire of +China, or more particularly of Li Hung Chang, to know +more of occidental civilization, some Chinese students +were sent by their government to Berlin to study music. +After about a month's residence in Berlin these students +wrote to the Chinese government asking to be recalled, +as they said it would be folly to remain in a barbarous +country where even the most elementary principles of +music had not yet been grasped. +</p> + +<p> +To go deeply into the more technical side of Chinese +music would be a thankless task, for in the Chinese character +the practical is entirely overshadowed by the speculative. +All kinds of fanciful names are given to the +different tones, and many strange ideas associated with +them. Although our modern chromatic scale (all but +the last half-tone) is familiar to them, they have never +risen to a practical use of it even to this day. The Chinese +scale is now, as it always has been, one of five notes to +the octave, that is to say, our modern major scale with +the fourth and seventh omitted. +</p> + +<p> +From a technical point of view, the instruments of +bamboo attain an importance above all other Chinese +instruments. According to the legend, the Pan's-pipes +of bamboo regulated the tuning of all other instruments, +and as a matter of fact the pipe giving the note F, the universal +tonic, is the origin of all measures also. For this +pipe, which in China is called the “musical foot,” is at +<a class="pagebreak" name="page63" id="page63" title="63"></a> +the same time a standard measure, holding exactly +twelve hundred millet seeds, and long enough for one +hundred millet seeds to stand end on end within it. +</p> + +<p> +In concluding this consideration of the music of the +Chinese, I would draw attention to the unceasing repetition +which constitutes a prominent feature in all barbarous or +semi-barbarous music. In the “Hymn of the Ancestors” +this endless play on three or four notes is very marked. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure02.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure02.png" width="531" height="331" alt="[Figure 02]" /> +</p> + +<p> +In other songs it is equally apparent. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure03.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure03.png" width="531" height="134" alt="[Figure 03] etc." /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure04.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure04.png" width="531" height="219" alt="[Figure 04]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure05.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure05.png" width="415" height="55" alt="[Figure 05] etc." /> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page64" id="page64" title="64"></a> +This characteristic is met with in the music of the +American Indians, also in American street songs, in fact +in all music of a primitive nature, just as our school +children draw caricatures similar to those made by great +chiefs and medicine men in the heart of Africa, and, +similarly, the celebrated “graffiti” of the Roman soldiers +were precisely of the same nature as the beginnings of +Egyptian art. In art, the child is always a barbarian +more or less, and all strong emotion acting on a naturally +weak organism or a primitive nature brings the same +result, namely, that of stubborn repetition of one idea. +An example of this is Macbeth, who, in the very height +of his passion, stops to juggle with the word “sleep,” and +in spite of the efforts of his wife, who is by far the more +civilized of the two, again and again recurs to it, even +though he is in mortal danger. When Lady Macbeth at +last breaks down, she also shows the same trait in regard +to her bloodstained hands. It is not so far from Scotland +to the Polar regions, and there we find that when Kane +captured a young Eskimo and kept him on his ship, the +only sign of life the prisoner gave was to sing over and +over to himself the following: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure06.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure06.png" width="193" height="53" alt="[Figure 06]" /> +</p> + +<p> +Coming back again to civilization, we find Tennyson's +Elaine, in her grief, repeating, incessantly the words, +“Must I then die.” +</p> + +<p> +The music of the Siamese, Burmese, Javanese, and +Japanese has much in common with that of the Chinese, +the difference between the first two and the last named +<a class="pagebreak" name="page65" id="page65" title="65"></a> +being mainly in the absence of the <i>king</i>, or musical stones, +or rather the substitution of sets of drums in place of it. +For instance, the Burmese drum-organ, as it is called, +consists of twenty-one drums of various sizes hung inside +a great hoop. Their gong-organ consists of fifteen or +more gongs of different sizes strung inside a hoop in the +same manner. The player takes his place in the middle +of the hoop and strikes the drums or gongs with a kind of +stick. These instruments are largely used in processions, +being carried by two men, just as a sedan chair is borne; +the player, in order to strike all the gongs and bells, must +often walk backwards, or strike them behind his back. +</p> + +<p> +In Javanese and Burmese music these sets of gongs +and drums are used incessantly, and form a kind of high-pitched, +sustained tone beneath which the music is played +or sung. +</p> + +<p> +In Siamese music the wind instruments have a prominent +place. After having heard the Siamese Royal +Orchestra a number of times in London, I came to the +conclusion that the players on the different instruments +<i>improvise</i> their parts, the only rule being the general +character of the melodies to be played, and the finishing +together. The effect of the music was that of a contrapuntal +nightmare, hideous to a degree which one who has +not heard it cannot conceive. Berlioz, in his “Soirées +de l'orchestre,” well described its effect when he said: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +“After the first sensation of horror which one cannot repress, one +feels impelled to laugh, and this hilarity can only be controlled by +leaving the hall. So long as these impossible sounds continue, the +fact of their being gravely produced, and in all sincerity <i>admired</i> +by the players, makes the ‘concert’ appear inexpressibly ‘comic.’” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page66" id="page66" title="66"></a> +The Japanese had the same Buddhistic disregard for +euphony, but they have adopted European ideas in +music and are rapidly becoming occidentalized from a +musical point of view. Their principal instruments are +the <i>koto</i> and the <i>samisen</i>. The former is similar to the +Chinese <i>che</i>, and is a kind of large zither with thirteen +strings, each having a movable bridge by means of +which the pitch of the string may be raised or lowered. +The <i>samisen</i> is a kind of small banjo, and probably +originated in the Chinese <i>kin</i>. +</p> + +<p> +From Buddhism to sun worship, from China to Peru +and Mexico, is a marked change, but we find strange +resemblances in the music of these peoples, seeming +almost to corroborate the theory that the southern +American races may be traced back to the extreme Orient. +We remember that in the Chinese sacred chants—“official” +music as one may call it—all the notes were +of exactly the same length. Now Garcilaso de la Vega +(1550), in his “Commentarios Reales,” tells us that +unequal time was unknown in Peru, that all the notes in +a song were of exactly the same length. He further tells +us that in his time the voice was but seldom heard in +singing, and that all the songs were played on the flute, +the words being so well known that the melody of the +flute immediately suggested them. The Peruvians were +essentially a pipe race, while, on the other hand, the instruments +of the Mexicans were of the other extreme, all +kinds of drums, copper gongs, rattles, musical stones, +cymbals, bells, etc., thus completing the resemblance to +Chinese art. In Prescott's “Conquest of Peru” we may +<a class="pagebreak" name="page67" id="page67" title="67"></a> +read of the beautiful festival of Raymi, or adoration of +the sun, held at the period of the summer solstice. It +describes how the Inca and his court, followed by the +whole population of the city, assembled at early dawn +in the great square of Cuzco, and how, at the appearance +of the first rays of the sun, a great shout would go up, and +thousands of wind instruments would break forth into a +majestic song of adoration. That the Peruvians were a +gentler nation than the Mexicans can be seen from their +principal instrument, the pipe. +</p> + +<p> +While it has been strenuously denied that on such occasions +human sacrifices were offered in Peru, the Mexicans, +that race whose principal instruments were drums and +brass trumpets, not only held such sacrifices, but, strange +to say, held them in honour of a kind of god of music, +Tezcatlipoca. This festival was the most important in +Mexico, and took place at the temple or “teocalli,” a +gigantic, pyramid-like mass of stone, rising in terraces to +a height of eighty-six feet above the city, and culminating +in a small summit platform upon which the long procession +of priests and victims could be seen from all parts of +the city. Once a year the sacrifice was given additional +importance, for then the most beautiful youth in Mexico +was chosen to represent the god himself. For a year +before the sacrifice he was dressed as Tezcatlipoca, in +royal robes and white linen, with a helmet-like crown of +sea shells with white cocks' plumes, and with an anklet +hung with twenty gold bells as a symbol of his power, +and he was married to the most beautiful maiden in +Mexico. The priests taught him to play the flute, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page68" id="page68" title="68"></a> +whenever the people heard the sound of it they fell down +and worshipped him. +</p> + +<p> +The account may be found in Bancroft's great work +on the “Native Races of the Pacific,” also Sahagun's +“Nueva España and Bernal Diaz,” but perhaps the most +dramatic description is that by Rowbotham: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +And when the morning of the day of sacrifice arrived, he was +taken by water to the Pyramid Temple where he was to be sacrificed, +and crowds lined the banks of the river to see him in the +barge, sitting in the midst of his beautiful companions. When +the barge touched the shore, he was taken away from those companions +of his forever, and was delivered over to a band of priests, exchanging +the company of beautiful women for men clothed in black +mantles, with long hair matted with blood—their ears also were +mangled. These conducted him to the steps of the pyramid, and he +was driven up amidst a crowd of priests, with drums beating and +trumpets blowing. As he went up he broke an earthen flute on +every step to show that his love, and his delights were over. And +when he reached the top, he was sacrificed on an altar of jasper, and +the signal that the sacrifice was completed was given to the multitudes +below by <a name="ft04"></a>the rolling of the great +sacrificial drum.<a class="fn" href="#fn04"> 4 </a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft02"> 2 </a></span><a name="fn02"></a> +<i>Kong</i>. His disciples called him <i>Fu Tsee</i>, or “the master”; Jesuit +missionaries Latinized this to Confucius.</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft03"> 3 </a></span><a name="fn03"></a> +The Chinese theatre has been called an unconscious parody of +our old-fashioned Italian opera, and there are certainly many resemblances. +In a Chinese play, when the situation becomes tragic, or +when one of the characters is seized with some strong emotion, it +finds vent in a kind of aria. The dialogue is generally given in the +most monotonous manner possible—using only high throat and +head tones, occasionally lowering or raising the voice on a word, +to express emotion. This monotonous, and to European ears, +strangely nonchalant, nasal recitative, is being continually interrupted +by gong pounding and the shrill, high sound of discordant +reed instruments. When one or more of the characters commits +suicide (which as we know is an honoured custom in China) he sings—or +rather whines—a long chant before he dies, just as his western +operatic colleagues do, as, for instance, Edgar in “Lucia di Lammermoor” +and even, to come nearer home, Siegfried in “Götterdämmerung.”</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft04"> 4 </a></span><a name="fn04"></a> +This drum was made of serpents' skins, and the sound of it was +so loud that it could be heard eight miles away.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page69" id="page69" title="69"></a> +VI<br /><br /> +THE MUSIC OF GREECE</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">The</span> +first name of significance in Greek music is that +of Homer. The hexameters of “The Iliad” and “The +Odyssey” were quite probably chanted, but the four-stringed +lyre which we associate with the ancient Greek +singers was only used for a few preluding notes—possibly +to pitch the voice of the bard—and not during the chant +itself. For whatever melody this chant possessed, it +depended entirely upon the raising and lowering of the +voice according to the accent of the words and the dramatic +feeling of the narrative. For its rhythm it depended +upon that of the hexameter, which consists of a line of +six dactyls and spondees, the line always ending with a +spondee. Really the line should end with a dactyl +<span class="nobr">(<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" />)</span> +and a spondee +<span class="nobr">(<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" />).</span> +If a line ends with +two spondees it is a spondaic hexameter. +</p> + +<p> +From this it would seem that while the pitch of the +chant would be very difficult to gauge, owing to the diversity +of opinion as to how to measure in actual sounds +the effect of emotions upon the human voice, at least the +<i>rhythm</i> of the chants would be well defined, owing to +the hexameter in which the latter were written. Here +again, however, we are cast adrift by theory, for in practice +nothing could be more misleading than such a deduction. +For instance, the following lines from Longfellow's +<a class="pagebreak" name="page70" id="page70" title="70"></a> +“Evangeline” are both in this metre, although the rhythm +of one differs greatly from that of the other. +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the earrings</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +and +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shielding the house from storms, on the north were the barns and the farm-yard.</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +Now if we think that these lines can be sung to the same +musical rhythm we are very far from the truth, although +both are hexameters, namely, +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +dactyls, ending with spondee. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see that metre in verse and rhythm in music +are two different things, although of course they both +had the same origin. +</p> + +<p> +After all has been said, it is perhaps best to admit that, +so far as Greek music is concerned, its better part certainly +lay in poetry. In ancient times all poetry was sung or +chanted; it was what I have called impassioned speech. +The declamation of “The Iliad” and “The Odyssey” +constituted what was really the “vocal” music of the +poems. With the Greeks the word “music” (<i>mousiké</i>) +included all the æsthetic culture that formed part of the +education of youth; in the same general way a poet was +called a singer, and even in Roman times we find Terence, +in his “Phormio,” alluding to poets as musicians. That +Æschylus and Sophocles were not musicians, as we +understand the term, is very evident in spite of the +controversies on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page71" id="page71" title="71"></a> +Impassioned speech, then, was all that existed of vocal +music, and as such was in every way merely the audible +expression of poetry. I have no doubt that this is the +explanation of the statement that Æschylus and Sophocles +wrote what has been termed the <i>music</i> to their tragedies. +What they really did was to teach the chorus the proper +declamation and stage action. It is well known that at +the Dionysian Festival it was to the poet as “chorus +master” that the prize was awarded, so entirely were the +arts identified one with the other. That declamation +may often reach the power of music, it is hardly necessary +to say. Among modern poets, let any one, for instance, +look at Tennyson's “Passing of Arthur” for an example +of this kind of music; the mere sound of the words completes +the picture. For instance, when Arthur is dying +and gives his sword, Excalibur, to Sir Bedivere with the +command to throw it into the mere, the latter twice +fails to do so, and returns to Arthur telling him that all +he saw was +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The water lapping on the crag</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the long ripple washing in the reeds.”</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +But when at last he throws it, the magic sword +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shot like a streamer of the northern morn.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur.”</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +Again, when Sir Bedivere, carrying the dying king, +stumbles up over the icy rocks to the shore, his armour +clashing and clanking, the verse uses all the clangour +of cr—ck, the slipping s's too, and the vowel <i>a</i> is used in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page72" id="page72" title="72"></a> +all its changes; when the shore is finally reached, the verse +suddenly turns into smoothness, the long <i>o</i>'s giving the +same feeling of breadth and calm that modern music +would attempt if it treated the same subject. +</p> + +<p> +Here are the lines: +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And barren chasms, and all to left and right</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bare, black cliff clang'd round him as he based</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sharp-smitten with the dint of arméd heels.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on a sudden, lo! the level lake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the long glories of the winter moon.</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +When we think of the earlier Greek plays, we must +imagine the music of the words themselves, the cadenced +voices of the protagonist or solitary performer, and the +chorus, the latter keeping up a rhythmic motion with the +words. This, I am convinced, was the extent of Greek +music, so far as that which was ascribed to the older poets +is concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Instrumental music was another thing, and although +we possess no authentic examples of it, we know what +its scales consisted of and what instruments were in use. +It would be interesting to pass in review the tragedies of +Æschylus and Sophocles, the odes of Sappho and Pindar, +those of the latter having a novel periodicity of form +which gives force to the suggestion that these choric +dances were the forerunners of our modern instrumental +forms. +</p> + +<p> +Such matters, however, take us from our actual subject, +and we will therefore turn to Pythagoras, at Crotona, +in Italy (about 500 B.C.), whom we find already +<a class="pagebreak" name="page73" id="page73" title="73"></a> +laying down the rules forming a mathematical and scientific +basis for the Greek musical scale. +</p> + +<p> +More than three centuries had passed since Homer had +chanted his “Iliad” and “Odyssey,” and in the course of +the succeeding fifty years some of the master spirits of +the world were to appear. When we think of Pythagoras, +Gautama, Buddha, Confucius, Æschylus, Sophocles, Sappho, +Pindar, Phidias, and Herodotus as contemporaries—and +this list might be vastly extended—it seems as if +some strange wave of ideality had poured over mankind. +In Greece, however, Pythagoras's theory of metempsychosis +(doctrine of the supposed transmigration of the soul +from one body to another) was not strong enough to make +permanent headway, and his scientific theories unhappily +turned music from its natural course into the workshop +of science, from which Aristoxenus in vain attempted to +rescue it. +</p> + +<p> +At that time Homer's hexameter had begun to experience +many changes, and from the art of rhythm developed +that of rhyme and form. <a name="ft05"></a>The old lyre, from having +four strings, was developed by Terpander, victor in the +first musical contest at the feast of Apollo Carneius, into +an instrument of seven strings, to which Pythagoras<a class="fn" href="#fn05"> 5 </a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page74" id="page74" title="74"></a> +added an eighth, Theophrastus a ninth, and so on until +the number of eighteen was reached. +</p> + +<p> +Flute and lyre playing had attained a high state of +excellence, for we hear that Lasus, the teacher of the +poet Pindar (himself the son of a Theban flute player), +introduced into lyre playing the runs and light passages +which, until that time, it had been thought possible to +produce only on the flute. +</p> + +<p> +The dance also had undergone a wonderful development +rhythmically; for even in Homer's time we read in “The +Odyssey” of the court of Alcinoüs at Phocæa, how two +princes danced before Ulysses and played with a scarlet +ball, one throwing it high in the air, the other always +catching it with his feet off the ground; and then changing, +they flung the ball from one to the other with such rapidity +that it made the onlookers dizzy. During the play, +Demidocus chanted a song, and accompanied the dance +with his lyre, the players never losing a step. As Aristides +(died 468 B.C.), speaking of Greek music many +centuries later said: “Metre is not a thing which concerns +the ear alone, for in the dance it is to be <i>seen</i>.” Even a +statue was said to have silent rhythm, and pictures were +spoken of as being musical or unmusical. +</p> + +<p> +Already in Homer's time, the Cretans had six varieties +of +<img src="images/time_54.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[5/4]" /> +time to which they danced: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/cretan_54.png" width="295" height="104" + alt="[4 8 4 | 4 8 8 8 | 8 4 8 8 | + 8 8 4 8 | 8 8 8 4 | 8 8 8 8 8] + [- ' - | - ' ' ' | ' - ' ' | + ' ' - ' | ' ' ' - | ' ' ' ' ']" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page75" id="page75" title="75"></a> +The first was known as the Cretic foot, being in a way the +model or type from which the others were made; but the +others were called pæons. The “Hymn to Apollo” was +called a pæon or pæan, for the singers danced in Cretic +rhythms as they chanted it. +</p> + +<p> +There were many other dances in Greece, each having +its characteristic rhythm. For instance, the Molossian +dance consisted of three long steps, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/time_32.png" width="9" height="25" alt="[3/2]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />;</span> +that of the +Laconians was the dactyl, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/time_44.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />,</span> +which was sometimes +reversed +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/time_44.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />.</span> +In the latter form it was also the +chief dance of the Locrians, the step being called anapæst. +From Ionia came the two long and two short steps, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" />,</span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ionic_1.png" width="94" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 4 4 8 8]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />,</span> or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ionic_2.png" width="86" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 8 8 4 4]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />,</span> +which were called +Ionic feet. The Doric steps consisted primarily of a +trochee and a spondee, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> +or +<img src="images/time_78.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[7/8]" /> +time. These +values, however, were arranged in three other different +orders, namely, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /></span> +and +were called the first, second, third, or fourth epitrite, according +to the positions of the short step. The second +epitrite was considered the most distinctly Doric. +</p> + +<p> +<a name="ft06"></a>The advent of the +Dionysian<a class="fn" href="#fn06"> 6 </a> festivals in Greece +threatened to destroy art, for those wild Bacchic dances, +which are to be traced back to that frenzied worship of +Bel and Astarte in Babylon, wild dances amenable only to +the impulse of the moment, seemed to carry everything +before them. Instead of that, however, the hymns to +Bacchus, who was called in Phœnicia the flute god, from +which the characteristics of his worship are indicated, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page76" id="page76" title="76"></a> +were the germs from which tragedy and comedy developed, +and the mad bacchanalian dances were tamed into dithyrambs. +For the Corybantes, priests of the goddess +Cybele, brought from Phrygia, in Asia Minor, the darker +form of this worship; they mourned for the death of +Bacchus, who was supposed to die in winter and to come +to life again in the spring. When these mournful hymns +were sung, a goat was sacrificed on the altar; thus the +origin of the word “tragedy” or “goat song” (<i>tragos</i>, +goat, and <i>odos</i>, singer). As the rite developed, the leader +of the chorus would chant the praises of Dionysus, and +sing of his adventures, to which the chorus would make +response. In time it became the custom for the leader, or +coryphæus, to be answered by one single member of the +chorus, the latter being thus used merely for the chanting +of commentaries on the narrative. The answerer was +called “hypocrite,” afterward the term for actor. +</p> + +<p> +This was the material from which Æschylus created +the first tragedy, as we understand the term. Sophocles +(495–406 B.C.) followed, increasing the number of actors, +as did also Euripides (480–406 B.C.). +</p> + +<p> +Comedy (<i>komos</i>, revel, and <i>odos</i>, singer) arose from the +spring and summer worship of Bacchus, when everything +was a jest and Nature smiled again. +</p> + +<p> +The dithyramb (<i>dithyrambos</i> or Bacchic step, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/barline.png" width="2" height="26" alt="|" /> )</span> +brought a new step to the dance and therefore a new +element into poetry, for all dances were choric, that is to +say they were sung as well as danced. +</p> + +<p> +Arion was the first to attempt to bring the dithyramb into +poetry, by teaching the dancers to use a slower movement +<a class="pagebreak" name="page77" id="page77" title="77"></a> +and to observe greater regularity in their various steps. +The Lydian flute, as may be supposed, was the instrument +which accompanied the dithyramb, associated with all +kinds of harsh, clashing instruments, such as cymbals, +tambourines, castanets. These Arion tried to replace by +the more dignified Grecian lyre; but it was long before +this mad dance sobered down to regular rhythm and +form. From Corinth, where Arion first laboured, we pass +to Sicyon, where the taming of the dithyramb into an +art form was accomplished by Praxilla, a poetess who +added a new charm to the lilt of this Bacchic metre, +namely, rhyme. +</p> + +<p> +And this newly acquired poetic wealth was in keeping +with the increasing luxury and magnificence of the cities, +for we read in Athenæus and Diodorus that Agrigentum +sent to the Olympic games three hundred chariots, +drawn by white horses. The citizens wore garments of +cloth of gold, and even their household ornaments were of +gold and silver; in their houses they had wine cellars +which contained three hundred vats, each holding a hundred +hogsheads of wine. In Sybaris this luxury reached +its height, for the Sybarites would not allow any trade +which caused a disagreeable sound, such as that of the +blacksmith, carpenter, or mason, to be carried on in their +city limits. They dressed in garments of deep purple, +tied their hair in gold threads, and the city was famed for +its incessant banqueting and merrymaking. It was such +luxury as this that Pindar found at the court of Hiero, +at Syracuse, whither Æschylus had retired after his +defeat by Sophocles at the Dionysian Festival at Athens. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page78" id="page78" title="78"></a> +The worship of Bacchus being at its height at that time, it +may be imagined that wine formed the principal element of +their feasts. And even as the dithyramb had been pressed +into the service of poetry, so was drinking made rhythmic +by music. For even the wine was mixed with water +according to musical ratios; for instance, the pæonic or 3 +to 2, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> = +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/r_8884.png" width="56" height="26" alt="[8 8 8 4]" />;</span> +the iambic or 2 to 1, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /></span> = +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/r_48.png" width="33" height="26" alt="[4 8]" />;</span> +dactylic or 2 to 2, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="'" /></span> = +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/r_4d88.png" width="52" height="26" alt="[4. 8 8]" />.</span> +The master of the +feast decided the ratio, and a flute girl played a prescribed +melody while the toast to good fortune, which commenced +every banquet, was being drunk. By the time the last +note had sounded, the great cup should have gone round +the table and been returned to the master. And then +they had the game of the cottabos, which consisted of +throwing the contents of a wine cup high in the air in +such a manner that the wine would fall in a solid mass +into a metal basin. The winner was the one who produced +the clearest musical sound from the basin. +</p> + +<p> +We see from all this that music was considered rather +a beautiful plaything or a mere colour. By itself it was +considered effeminate; therefore the early Greeks always +had the flute player accompanied by a singer, and the +voice was always used with the lyre to prevent the latter +appealing directly to the senses. The dance was corrected +in the same manner; for when we speak of Greek dances, +we always mean <i>choric</i> dances. Perhaps the nearest +approach to the effect of what we call music was made +by Æschylus, in the last scene of his “Persians,” when +Xerxes and the chorus end the play with one continued +<a class="pagebreak" name="page79" id="page79" title="79"></a> +wail of sorrow. In this instance the words take second +place, and the actual sound is depended upon for the +dramatic effect. +</p> + +<p> +The rise and fall of actual instrumental music in Greece +may be placed between 500 and 400 B.C. After the +close of the Peloponnesian War (404 B.C.), when Sparta +supplanted Athens as the leader of Greece, art declined +rapidly, and at the time of Philip of Macedon (328 B.C.) +may be said to have been practically extinct. Then, +in place of the dead ashes of art, the cold fire of science +arose; for we have such men as Euclid (300 B.C.) and +his school applying mathematics to musical sounds, and +a system of cold calculation to an art that had needed +all the warmth of emotional enthusiasm to keep it alive. +Thus music became a science. Had it not been for the +little weeds of folk song which managed with difficulty +to survive at the foot of this arid dust heap, and which +were destined to be transformed and finally to bloom +into such lovely flowers in our times, we might yet +have been using the art to illustrate mathematical +calculations. +</p> + +<p> +The teaching of Pythagoras was the first step in this +classification of sounds; and he went further than this, +for he also classified the <i>emotions</i> affected by music. It +was therefore a natural consequence that in his teaching he +should forbid music of an emotional character as injurious. +When he came to Crotona, it was to a city that vied +with Agrigentum, Sybaris, and Tarentum in luxury; its +chief magistrate wore purple garments, a golden crown +upon his head, and white shoes on his feet. It was said +<a class="pagebreak" name="page80" id="page80" title="80"></a> +of Pythagoras that he had studied twelve years with the +Magi in the temples of Babylon; had lived among the +Druids of Gaul and the Indian Brahmins; had gone among +the priests of Egypt and witnessed their most secret +temple rites. So free from care or passion was his face +that he was thought by the people to be Apollo; he was of +majestic presence, and the most beautiful man they had +ever seen. So the people accepted him as a superior +being, and his influence became supreme over science and +art, as well as manners. +</p> + +<p> +He gave the Greeks their first scientific analysis of sound. +The legend runs that, passing a blacksmith's shop and +hearing the different sounds of the hammering, he conceived +the idea that sounds could be measured by some +such means as weight is measured by scales, or distance +by the foot rule. By weighing the different hammers, +so the story goes, he obtained the knowledge of harmonics +or overtones, namely, the fundamental, octave, fifth, +third, etc. This legend, which is stated seriously in many +histories of music, is absurd, for, as we know, the hammers +would not have vibrated. The anvils would have +given the sound, but in order to produce the octave, +fifth, etc., they would have had to be of enormous proportions. +On the other hand, the monochord, with which +students in physics are familiar, was his invention; and the +first mathematical demonstrations of the effect on musical +pitch of length of cord and tension, as well as the length +of pipes and force of breath, were his. +</p> + +<p> +These mathematical divisions of the monochord, however, +eventually did more to stifle music for a full thousand +<a class="pagebreak" name="page81" id="page81" title="81"></a> +years than can easily be imagined. This division of the +string made what we call harmony impossible; for by it +the major third became a larger interval than our modern +one, and the minor third smaller. Thus thirds did not +sound well together, in fact were dissonances, the only +intervals which <i>did</i> harmonize being the fourth, fifth, +and octave. This system of mathematically dividing +tones into equal parts held good up to the middle of the +sixteenth century, when Zarlino, who died in 1590, invented +the system in use at the present time, called the <i>tempered +scale</i>, which, however, did not come into general use +until one hundred years later. +</p> + +<p> +Aristoxenus, a pupil of Aristotle, who lived more than +a century after Pythagoras, rejected the monochord as a +means for gauging musical sounds, believing that the ear, +not mathematical calculation, should be the judge as to +which interval sounds “perfect.” But he was unable to +formulate a system that would bring the third (and naturally +its inversion the sixth) among the harmonizing intervals +or consonants. Didymus (about 30 B.C.) first +discovered that two different-sized whole tones were necessary +in order to make the third consonant; and Ptolemy +(120 A.D.) improved on this system somewhat. But +the new theory remained without any practical effect +until nearly the seventeenth century, when the long +respected theory of the perfection of mathematical calculation +on the basis of natural phenomena was overthrown +in favour of actual effect. If Aristoxenus had +had followers able to combat the crushing influence of +Euclid and his school, music might have grown up with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page82" id="page82" title="82"></a> +the other arts. As it is, music is still in its infancy, and +has hardly left its experimental stage. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Pythagoras brought order into the music as well +as into the lives of people. But whereas it ennobled the +people, it killed the music, the one vent in life through +which unbounded utterance is possible; its essence is so +interwoven with spirituality that to tear it away and +fetter it with human mathematics is to lower it to the level +of mere utilitarianism. And so it was with Greek music, +which was held subordinate to metre, to poetry, to acting, +and finally became a term of contempt. Pythagoras +wished to banish the flute, as Plato also did later, and the +name of flute player was used as a reproach. I fancy this +was because the flute, on account of its construction, +could ignore the mathematical divisions prescribed for +the stringed instruments, and therefore could indulge in +purely emotional music. Besides, the flute was the +chosen instrument of the orgiastic Bacchic cult, and its +associations were those of unbridled license. To be sure, +the voice was held by no mathematical restrictions as to +pitch; but its music was held in check by the words, and +its metre by dancing feet. +</p> + +<p> +Having measured the musical intervals, there still +remained the task of classifying the different manners of +singing which existed in Greece, and using all their different +notes to form a general system. For just as in different +parts of Greece there existed different dances, the +steps of which were known as Lydian, Ionian, Locrian, +and Dorian feet, and so on, so the melodies to which +they were danced were known as being in the Lydian, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page83" id="page83" title="83"></a> +Ionian, Locrian, or Dorian scale or mode. In speaking +of Hindu music, I explained that what we call a mode +consists of a scale, and that one mode differs from another +<i>only</i> in the position of the semitones in this scale. Now +in ancient Greece there were in use over fifteen different +modes, each one common to the part of the country in +which it originated. At the time of Pythagoras there +were seven in general use: the Dorian, Lydian, Æolian +or Locrian, Hypo- (or low) Lydian, Phrygian, Hypo- (or +low) Phrygian, and Mixolydian or mixed Lydian. The +invention of the latter is attributed to Sappho by Plutarch, +quoting Aristoxenus. +</p> + +<p> +These modes were all invested with individual characters +by the Greeks, just as in the present day we say our +major mode is happy, the minor sad. The Dorian mode +was considered the greatest, and, according to Plato, the +only one worthy of men. It was supposed to have a +dignified, martial character. The Lydian, on the other +hand, was all softness, and love songs were written in it. +The Phrygian was of a violent, ecstatic nature, and was +considered as being especially appropriate for dithyrambs, +the metre for the wild bacchanalian dances. For instance, +Aristotle tells how Philoxenus attempted to set dithyrambic +verse to the Dorian mode, and, failing, had to +return to the Phrygian. The Mixolydian, which was +Sappho's mode, was the mode for sentiment and passion. +The Dorian, Phrygian, and Lydian were the oldest +modes. +</p> + +<p> +Each mode or scale was composed of two sets of four +notes, called tetrachords, probably derived from the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page84" id="page84" title="84"></a> +ancient form of the lyre, which in Homer's time is known +to have had four strings. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the matter of actual pitch out of the question +(for these modes might be pitched high or low, just as +our major or minor scale may be pitched in different +keys), these three modes were constructed as follows: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/three_modes.png" width="501" height="206" + alt="Greek: Dorian (E F) G A (B C) D E, + that is, semitone, tone, tone. + Asiatic: Phrygian D (E F) G A (B C) D, + or F# (G# A) B C# (D# E) F#, + that is, tone, semitone, tone. + Lydian C D (E F) G A (B C), + that is, tone, tone, semitone." /> +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see that a tetrachord commencing with a half-tone +and followed by two whole tones was called a Dorian +tetrachord; one commencing with a tone, followed by +a half-tone, and again a tone, constituted a Phrygian tetrachord. +The other modes were as follows: In the Æolian +or Locrian the semitones occur between the second and +third notes, and the fifth and sixth: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/aeolian.midi"><img src="images/scale_aeolian.png" + width="347" height="35" alt="[F: b, (c+ d) e (f+ g) a b]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +Theraclides Ponticus identifies the Hypodorian with the +Æolian, but says that the name “hypo-” merely denoted a +likeness to Doric, not to pitch. Aristoxenus denies the +identity, and says that the Hypodorian was a semitone +below the Dorian or Hypolydian. In the Hypophrygian, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page85" id="page85" title="85"></a> +the semitones occur between the third and fourth, and +sixth and seventh degrees: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/hypophrigian.midi"><img src="images/scale_hypophrygian.png" + width="370" height="42" alt="[F: c+ d+ (e+ f+) g+ (a+ b) c+']" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +In the Hypolydian, the semitones occur between the fourth +and fifth, and seventh and eighth: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/hypolydian.midi"><img src="images/scale_hypolydian.png" + width="348" height="50" alt="[F: e- f g (a b-) c' (d' e-')]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +The Dorian (E), Phrygian (commencing on F♯ with the +fourth sharped), and the Lydian (A♭ major scale) modes +we have already explained. In the Mixolydian, the semitones +occur between the first and second, and fourth and +fifth degrees: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/mixolydian.midi"><img src="images/scale_mixolydian.png" + width="345" height="63" alt="[G: (a b-) c' (d' e-') f' g' a']" /></a> +</p> + +<p> +According to the best evidence (in the works of Ptolemy, +“Harmonics,” second book, and Aristides), these were +approximately the actual pitch of the modes as compared +one to another. +</p> + +<p> +And now the difficulty was to weld all these modes +together into one scale, so that all should be represented +and yet not be complicated by what we should call accidentals. +This was accomplished in the following manner, +by simple mathematical means: +</p> + +<p> +We remember that the Dorian, which was the most +greatly favoured mode in Greece, was divided into two +tetrachords of exactly the same proportions, namely, +semitone, tone, tone. By taking the lowest note of the +Mixolydian, B, and forming a Dorian tetrachord on it, +B C D E were acquired. Adding to this another Dorian +<a class="pagebreak" name="page86" id="page86" title="86"></a> +tetrachord, E F G A (commencing on the last note of +the first), and repeating the same series of tetrachords +an octave higher, we have in all four Dorian tetrachords, +two of which overlap the others. The two middle tetrachords, +constituting the original Dorian mode, were called +<i>disjunct</i>, the two outer ones which overlap the middle ones +were called <i>conjunct</i> or <i>synemmenon</i> tetrachords. +</p> + +<p> +If we consider this new scale from octave to octave, +commencing with the lowest note, that is to say from B +to B, we find that it coincides exactly with the Mixolydian +mode; therefore this was called the Mixolydian +octave. The octave in this scale from the second note, C +to C, coincides exactly with the Lydian mode, and was +called the Lydian octave; from the third note, D, up to +its octave gives the Phrygian; from the fourth note, E, +the Dorian; from the fifth, F, the Hypolydian; from the +sixth, G, the Hypophrygian; and from the seventh, A, +the Æolian or Hypodorian octave. Add one note to the +lower end of this universal Greek scale, as it was called, +and we see that the whole tonal system was included +within two octaves. To each of the notes comprising +it was given a name partly derived from its position in +the tetrachords, and partly from the fingering employed +in lyre playing, as shown in the diagram on +<a href="#page87a">page 87</a>. +</p> + +<p> +The fifteen strings of the <i>kithara</i> were tuned according +to this scale, and the A, recurring three times in it, acquired +something of the importance of a tonic or key +note. As yet, however, this scale allowed of no transposition +of a mode to another pitch; in order to accomplish +this the second tetrachord was used as the first of another +<a class="pagebreak" name="page87" id="page87" title="87"></a> +similar system. Thus, considering the second tetrachord, +E F G A, as first of the new scale, it would be followed +by A B♭ C D, and the two disjunct tetrachords would +be formed. Followed by the two upper conjunct tetrachords, +and the <i>proslambanómenos</i> added, our system on +a new pitch would be complete. This procedure has +come down almost unchanged to our times; for we have +but two modes, major and minor, which are used on every +pitch, constituting various keys. These Greek modes +are the basis on which all our modern ideas of tonality +rest; for our major mode is simply the Greek Lydian, and +our minor mode the Æolian. +</p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page87a" id="page87a" title="87"></a> +LIST OF NOTES IN THE GREEK SCALE</h4> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<p> +<img src="images/scale_greek.png" width="507" height="412" + alt="A. Nete, or highest. + G. Páranete, next highest. + F. Trite, third. + E. Néte, highest. + D. Páranéte, next highest. + C. Trite, third. + B. Paramese, next to central tone + A. Mese, central tone. + G. Líchanos, index finger. + F. Parhýpate, next to lowest. + E. Hýpate, lowest. + D. Líchanos, index. + C. Parhýpate, next to lowest. + B. Hýpate, lowest. + A. Proslambanómenos, added tone." /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page88" id="page88" title="88"></a> +To go into detailed explanation of the Greek enharmonic +and chromatic pitch will scarcely be worth while, and +I will therefore merely add that the instruments were +sometimes tuned differently, either to relieve the inevitable +monotony of this purely diatonic scale or for purposes of +modulation. A Dorian tetrachord is composed of semitone, +tone, tone; to make it chromatic, it was changed +as follows: +<a href="midi/dorian_tetra.midi"><img src="images/chromatic_tetrachord.png" + width="189" height="49" alt="[G: e' f' g-' a']" /></a> +the <i>líchanos</i>, or index +finger string, being lowered a semitone. +</p> + +<p> +The enharmonic pitch consisted of tuning the <i>líchanos</i> +down still further, almost a quarter-tone below the second +string, or <i>parhýpate</i>, thus making the tetrachord run +quarter-tone, quarter-tone, two tones. Besides this, +even in the diatonic, the Greeks used what they called +soft intervals; for example, when the tetrachord, instead +of proceeding by semitone, tone, tone (which system was +called the hard diatonic), was tuned to semitone, three-quarter-tone, +and tone and a quarter. The chromatic +pitch also had several forms, necessitating the use of small +fractional tones as well as semitones. +</p> + +<p> +Our knowledge of the musical notation of the Greeks +rests entirely on the authority of Alypius, and dates +from about the fourth century A.D. That we could +not be absolutely sure of the readings of ancient Greek +melodies, even if we possessed any, is evident from the fact +that these note characters, which at first were derived +from the signs of the zodiac, and later from the letters of +the alphabet, indicate only the relative pitch of the +sounds; the rhythm is left entirely to the metrical value +<a class="pagebreak" name="page89" id="page89" title="89"></a> +of the words in the lines to be sung. Two sets of signs +were used for musical notation, the vocal system consisting +of writing the letters of the alphabet in different positions, +upside down, sideways, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Of the instrumental system but little is known, and +that not trustworthy. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft05"> 5 </a></span><a name="fn05"></a> +The fundamental doctrine of the Pythagorean philosophy was +that the essence of all things rests upon musical relations, that +numbers are the principle of all that exists, and that the world subsists +by the rhythmical order of its elements. The doctrine of the +“Harmony of the spheres” was based on the idea that the celestial +spheres were separated from each other by intervals corresponding +with the relative length of strings arranged so as to produce harmonious +tones.</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft06"> 6 </a></span><a name="fn06"></a> +Dionysus, the same as the Roman Bacchus.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page90" id="page90" title="90"></a> +VII<br /><br /> +THE MUSIC OF THE ROMANS—THE EARLY CHURCH</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">The</span> +art history of the world makes it clear to us that +when the art of a country turns to over-elaboration of +detail and mechanical dexterity, when there is a general +tendency toward vividness of <i>impression</i> rather than +poignancy and vitality of <i>expression</i>, then we have the +invariable sign of that decadence which inevitably drifts +into revolution of one kind or another. Lasus (500 B.C.), +who, as previously mentioned, was a great flute and lyre +player as well as poet, betrays this tendency, which +reached its culmination under the Romans. Lasus was +more of a virtuoso than a poet; he introduced into Greece +a new and florid style of lyre and harp playing; and it was +he who, disliking the guttural Dorian pronunciation of the +letter S, wrote many of his choric poems without using +this letter once in them. Pindar, his pupil, followed in +his footsteps. In many of his odes we find intricate +metrical devices; for instance, the first line of most of the +odes is so arranged metrically that the same order of +accents is maintained whether the line be read backward +or forward, the short and long syllables falling into +exactly the same places in either case. The line “Hercules, +the patron deity of Thebes,” may be taken as an +<a class="pagebreak" name="page91" id="page91" title="91"></a> +example, +<span class="nobr"><a href="images/hercules_orig.png"><img + src="images/hercules.png" width="213" height="20" + alt="[(- ' ' ' - )'( - ' ' ' -)]" /></a>.</span> +Such devices occur +all through his poems. We find in them also that magnificence +of diction which is the forerunner of “virtuosity”; +for he speaks of his song as “a temple with +pillars of gold, gold that glitters like blazing fire in the +night time.” +</p> + +<p> +In the hands of Aristophanes (450–380 B.C.), the +technique of poetry continued to advance. In “The +Frogs,” “The Wasps,” and “The Birds” are to be found +marvels of skill in +<a name="ft07"></a>onomatopoetic<a class="fn" href="#fn07"> 7 </a> +verse. His comedies +called for many more actors than the tragedies had required, +and the chorus was increased from fifteen to twenty-four. +Purple skins were spread across the stage, and the +<i>parabasis</i> (or topical song) and satire vied with the noble +lines of Æschylus and Sophocles for favour with the +public. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, as might have been expected, instrumental +music became more and more independent, and musicians, +especially the flute players, prospered; for we read in +Suidas that they were much more proficient and sought +after than the lyre and kithara players. When they +played, they stood in a conspicuous place in the centre +of the audience. Dressed in long, feminine, saffron-coloured +robes, with veiled faces, and straps round their +cheeks to support the muscles of the mouth, they exhibited +the most startling feats of technical skill. Even women +became flute players, although this was considered disgraceful. +The Athenians even went so far that they +<a class="pagebreak" name="page92" id="page92" title="92"></a> +built a temple to the flute player Lamia, and worshipped +her as Venus. The prices paid to these flute players +surpassed even those given to virtuosi in modern times, +sometimes amounting to more than one thousand dollars +a day, and the luxury in which they lived became proverbial. +</p> + +<p> +During this period, Aristophanes of Alexandria (350 +B.C.), called “the grammarian,” devised a means for +indicating the inflection of the voice in speaking, by which +the cadences which orators found necessary in impassioned +speech could be classified, at least to some extent. When +the voice was to fall, a downward stroke +<img src="images/downstroke.png" width="15" height="15" alt="\" /> +was placed +above the syllable; when the voice was to be raised, an +upward stroke +<img src="images/upstroke.png" width="15" height="15" alt="/" /> +indicated it; and when the voice was +to rise and fall, the sign was +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/circumflex.png" width="15" height="15" alt="/\" />,</span> +which has become our +accent in music. These three signs are found in the +French language, in the accent <i>aigu</i>, or high accent, as in +<i>passé</i>; the accent <i>grave</i>, or low accent, as in <i>sincère</i>; or +<i>circonflexe</i>, as in <i>Phâon</i>. <a name="ft08"></a>The use of +dots<a class="fn" href="#fn08"> 8 </a> for punctuation +is also ascribed to Aristophanes; and our dots in +musical notation, as well as the use of commas to indicate +breathings, may be traced to this system. +</p> + +<p> +As I have said, all this tended toward technical skill +and analysis; what was lacking in inventive power it was +sought to cover by wonderful execution. The mania for +flute playing, for instance, seemed to spread all over the +world; later we even hear that the king of Egypt, Ptolemy +Auletes (80–51 B.C.), Cleopatra's father, was nicknamed +“the flute player.” +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page93" id="page93" title="93"></a> +In Rome, this lack of poetic vitality seemed evident +from the beginning; for while Greece was represented by +the tragedy and comedy, the Romans' preference was for +mere pantomime, a species of farce of which they possessed +three kinds: (1) The simple pantomime without chorus, +in which the actors made the plot clear to the audience +by means of gestures and dancing. (2) Another which +called for a band of instrumental musicians on the stage +to furnish an accompaniment to the acting of the pantomimist. +(3) The chorus pantomime, in which the chorus +and the orchestra were placed on the stage, supplementing +the gestures of the actors by singing a narrative of the +plot of the pantomime, and playing on their instruments. +The latter also were expressive of the non-ideal character +of the pantomime, as is indicated by the fact that the +orchestra was composed of cymbals, gongs, castanets, +foot castanets, rattles, flutes, bagpipes, gigantic lyres, and +a kind of shell or crockery cymbals, which were clashed +together. +</p> + +<p> +The Roman theatre itself was not a place connected +with the worship of the gods, as it was with the Greeks. +The altar to Dionysus had disappeared from the centre +of the orchestra, and the chorus, or rather the band, was +placed upon the stage with the actors. The bagpipe +now appears for the first time in musical history, although +there is some question as to whether it was not known to +the Assyrians. It represents, perhaps, the only remnant of +Roman music that has survived, for the modern Italian +peasants probably play in much the same way as did +their forefathers. The Roman pipes were bound with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page94" id="page94" title="94"></a> +brass, and had about the same power of tone as was +obtained from the trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to see that an orchestra thus constituted +would be better adapted for making a great noise than +for music, while the pantomime itself was of such a brutal +nature that the degradation of art may be said to have +been complete. As the decay of art in Egypt culminated +under Ptolemy Auletes, so in Rome it culminated in the +time of Caligula (12–41 A.D.), and Nero (37–68 A.D.). +</p> + +<p> +The latter, as we learn from Suetonius, competed for +prizes in the public musical contests, and was never without +a slave at his elbow to warn him against straining his +voice. In his love of magnificence he resembled a Greek +flute player, with unbounded means to gratify it. His +palace, the “Golden House,” had triple porticos a mile +in length, and enclosed a lake surrounded by buildings +which had the appearance of a city. Within its area +were corn fields, vineyards, pastures, and woods containing +many animals, both wild and tame. In other parts +it was entirely overlaid with gold, and adorned with jewels +and mother-of-pearl. The porch was so high that a colossal +statue of himself, one hundred and twenty feet in height, +stood in it. The supper rooms were vaulted, and compartments +of the ceiling, inlaid with ivory, were made to +revolve and scatter flowers; they also contained pipes +which shed perfumes upon the guests. +</p> + +<p> +When the revolt under Vindex broke out (68 A.D.), +a new instrument had just been brought to Rome. Tertullian, +Suetonius, and Vitruvius agree in calling it an +organ. This instrument, which was the invention of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page95" id="page95" title="95"></a> +Ctesibus of Alexandria, consisted of a set of pipes through +which the air was made to vibrate by means of a kind of +water pump operated by iron keys. It was undoubtedly +the direct ancestor of our modern organ. Nero intended +to introduce these instruments into the Roman theatre. +In planning for his expedition against Vindex, his first +care was to provide carriages for his musical instruments; +for his intention was to sing songs of triumph after having +quelled the revolt. He publicly vowed that if his power +in the state were reestablished, he would include a performance +upon organs as well as upon flutes and bagpipes, in +the exhibitions he intended to institute in honour of his +success. +</p> + +<p> +From a musical point of view, Suetonius's biography of +Nero is interesting chiefly on account of its giving us +glimpses of the life of a professional musician of those +days. We read, together with many other details, that it +was the custom for a singer to lie on his back, with a sheet +of lead upon his breast, to correct unsteadiness in breathing, +and to abstain from food for two days together to +clear his voice, often denying himself fruit and sweet +pastry. The degraded state of the theatre may well be +imagined from the fact that under Nero the custom of +hiring professional applause was instituted. After his +death, which is so dramatically told by Suetonius, music +never revived in Rome. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, however, a new kind of music had +begun; in the catacombs and underground vaults, the early +Christians were chanting their first hymns. Like all that +we call “new,” this music had its roots in the old. The +<a class="pagebreak" name="page96" id="page96" title="96"></a> +hymns sung by the Christians were mainly Hebrew temple +songs, strangely changed into an uncouth imitation of the +ancient Greek drama or worship of Dionysus; for example, +Philo of Alexandria, as well as Pliny the Younger, speaks +of the Christians as accompanying their songs with gestures, +and with steps forward and backward. This Greek +influence is still further implied by the order of one of +the earliest of the Church fathers, Clement of Alexandria +(about 300 A.D.), who forbade the use of the chromatic +style in the hymns, as tending too much toward paganism. +Some writers even go so far as to identify many of the +Christian myths and symbols with those of Greece. For +instance, they see, in the story of Daniel in the lions' den, +another form of the legend of Orpheus taming the wild +beasts; in Jonah, they recognize Arion and the dolphin; +and the symbol of the Good Shepherd, carrying home the +stray lamb on his shoulders, is considered another form +of the familiar Greek figure of Hermes carrying the goat. +</p> + +<p> +Be this as it may, it is certain that this crude beginning +of Christian music arose from a vital necessity, and was +accompanied by an indomitable faith. If we look back, +we note that until now music had either been the servant +of ignoble masters, looked upon as a mathematical problem +to be solved scientifically, or used according to methods +prescribed by the state. It had been dragged down to +the lowest depths of sensuality by the dance, and its +divine origin forgotten in lilting rhythms and soft, lulling +rhymes. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the mathematicians, in their cold +calculation, reduced music to the utilitarianism of algebra, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page97" id="page97" title="97"></a> +and even viewed it as a kind of medicine for the nerves +and mind. When we think of the music of Pythagoras +and his school, we seem to be in a kind of laboratory in +which all the tones are labelled and have their special +directions for use. For the legend runs that he composed +melodies in the diatonic, chromatic, and enharmonic +styles as antidotes for moods such as anger, fear, sorrow, +etc., and invented new rhythms which he used to steady +and strengthen the mind, and to produce simplicity of +character in his disciples. He recommended that every +morning, after rising, they should play on the lyre and sing, +in order to clear the mind. It was inevitable that this +half mathematical, half psychologically medicinal manner +of treating music would, in falling into the hands of +Euclid (300 B.C.) and his school, degenerate into a mere +peg on which to hang mathematical theorems. On the +other hand, when we think of Greek dances, we seem to +pass into the bright, warm sunshine. We see graceful +figures holding one another by the wrist, dancing in a +circle around some altar to Dionysus, and singing to the +strange lilt of those unequal measures. We can imagine +the scheme of colour to be white and gold, framed by the +deep-blue arch of the sky, the amethyst sea flecked with +glittering silver foam, and the dark, sombre rocks of the +Cretan coast bringing a suggestion of fate into this dancing, +soulless vision. Turning now to Rome, we see that +this same music has fallen to a wretched slave's estate, +cowering in some corner until the screams of Nero's +living torches need to be drowned; and then, with brazen +clangour and unabashed rhythms, this brutal music flaunts +<a class="pagebreak" name="page98" id="page98" title="98"></a> +forth with swarms of dancing slaves, shrilling out the +praises of Nero; and the time for successful revolution is +at hand. +</p> + +<p> +The first steps toward actually defining the new music +took place in the second century, when the Christians +were free to worship more openly, and, having wealthy +converts among them, held their meetings in public +places and basilicas which were used by magistrates and +other officials during the day. These basilicas or public +halls had a raised platform at one end, on which the +magistrate sat when in office. There were steps up to it, +and on these steps the clergy stood. The rest of the hall +was called the “nave” (ship), for the simile of “storm-tossed +mariners” was always dear to the early Christian +church. In the centre of the nave stood the reader of +the Scriptures, and on each side of him, ranged along the +wall, were the singers. The Psalms were sung antiphonally, +that is, first one side would sing and the other side +would answer. The congregations were sometimes immense, +for according to St. Jerome (340–420 A.D.) and +St. Ambrose (340–397 A.D.) “the roofs reechoed with +their cries of ‘Alleluia,’ which in sound were like the great +waves of the surging sea.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless this was, as yet, only sound, and not +music. Not until many centuries later did music become +distinct from chanting, which is merely intoned <i>speech</i>. +The disputes of the Arians and the Athanasians also +affected the music of the church, for as early as 306 A.D., +Arius introduced many secular melodies, and had them +sung by women. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page99" id="page99" title="99"></a> +Passing over this, we find that the first actual arrangement +of Christian music into a regular system was +attempted by Pope Sylvester, in 314 A.D., when he +instituted singing schools, and when the heresy of Arius +was formally condemned. +</p> + +<p> +Now this chanting or singing of hymns was more or +less a declamation, thus following the Greek tradition of +using one central note, somewhat in the nature of a +keynote. +</p> + +<p> +Rhythm, distinct melody, and even metre were avoided +as retaining something of the unclean, brutal heathenism +against which the Christians had revolted. It was the +effort to keep the music of the church pure and undefiled +that caused the Council of Laodicea (367 A.D.) to exclude +from the church all singing not authorized from the pulpit. +</p> + +<p> +A few years later (about 370 A.D.) Ambrose, the Archbishop +of Milan, strove to define this music more clearly, +by fixing upon the modes that were to be allowed for these +chants; for we must remember that all music was still +based upon the Greek modes, the modern major and +minor being as yet unknown. In the course of time the +ancient modes had become corrupted, and the modes that +Ambrose took for his hymns were therefore different from +those known in Greece under the same names. His +Dorian is what the ancients called Phrygian, +<img src="images/notes_dd.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: d' d'']" /> +dominant, A; his Phrygian was the ancient Dorian, +<img src="images/notes_ee.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: e' e'']" /> +dominant, C; his Lydian corresponded to +the old Hypolydian, +<img src="images/notes_ff.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: f' f'']" /> +dominant, C; and his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page100" id="page100" title="100"></a> +Mixolydian to the old Hypophrygian, +<img src="images/notes_gg.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: g' g'']" /> +dominant, D. These modes were accepted by the church +and were called the Authentic modes. +</p> + +<p> +Almost two centuries later, Gregory the Great added +four more modes, which were called Plagal or side modes +(from <i>plagios</i>—oblique). These were as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +Hypodorian, +<img src="images/notes_ada.png" width="147" height="64" + alt="[G: a Keynote-(d') a']" /> +dominant, F. +</p><p> +Hypophrygian, +<img src="images/notes_ceb.png" width="147" height="49" + alt="[G: c (e') b']" /> +dominant, A. +</p><p> +Hypolydian, +<img src="images/notes_cfc.png" width="147" height="49" + alt="[G: c' (f') c'']" /> +dominant, A. +</p><p> +Hypo-mixolydian, +<img src="images/notes_dgd.png" width="147" height="49" + alt="[G: d' (g') d'']" /> +dominant, C. +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +It is easy to see that these so-called new modes are +simply new versions of the first four; although they are +lowered a fourth beneath the authentic modes (hence the +<i>hypo</i>), the <i>keynote remains the same</i> in each instance. +Still later two more modes were added to this list, the +Ionic, +<img src="images/notes_cc.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: c' c'']" /> +dominant, G, which corresponded to +the ancient Greek Lydian; and the Æolian, +<img src="images/notes_aa.png" width="109" height="49" + alt="[G: a' a'']" /> +dominant, E, which, strange to say, was the only one of +these newer modes which corresponded to its Greek namesake. +Naturally these two newly admitted modes were +also accompanied by their lower pitched attendant modes, +the Hypoionic, +<img src="images/notes_gcg.png" width="147" height="57" + alt="[G: g (c') g']" /> +dominant, E, and the +Hypoæolian, +<img src="images/notes_eae.png" width="147" height="49" + alt="[G: e' (a') e'']" /> +dominant, C. +</p> + +<blockquote class="central"> +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page101" id="page101" + title="101"></a>SUMMARY</h4> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><th>Mode.</th><th>Key.</th><th>Dominant.</th></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Dorian. </td><td>D</td><td>A</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypodorian. </td><td>D</td><td>F</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Phrygian. </td><td>E</td><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypophrygian. </td><td>E</td><td>A</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Lydian. </td><td>F</td><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypolydian. </td><td>F</td><td>A</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Mixolydian. </td><td>G</td><td>D</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypo-mixolydian. </td><td>G</td><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Æolian. </td><td>A</td><td>E</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypoæolian.</td><td>A</td><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Ionian. </td><td>C</td><td>G</td></tr> +<tr><td class="left">Hypoionian. </td><td>C</td><td>E</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/dominants.png" width="260" height="59" + alt="Dominants [G: a' f' c' {a (a')} c' a d' c' e' c' g' e']" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Now all these lower, or derived modes, Hypodorian, +Hypophrygian, Hypolydian, etc., received the name Plagal +modes, because there was but one tonic or keynote in +the scale; consequently a melody starting on any degree +of the scale would invariably return to the same tonic +or keynote. They differed from the authentic modes, +inasmuch as in the latter a melody might end either on +the upper or lower tonic or keynote. Thus the melody +itself was said to be either authentic or plagal, according +to whether it had one or two tonics. The theme of +Schumann's “Etudes symphoniques” is authentic, and +the first variation is plagal. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page102" id="page102" title="102"></a> +Between the sixth and tenth centuries there was much +confusion as to the placing of these modes, but they finally +stood as given above. The Greek names were definitely +accepted in the eleventh century, or thereabouts; previously, +they were known also as the first, second, third, +etc., up to the twelfth, church tones or Gregorian modes. +</p> + +<p> +At this point it is necessary to refer again to Ambrose. +Apart from having brought the first four authentic modes +into church music, he composed many hymns which had +this peculiarity, namely, that they were modelled more on +the actual declamation of the words to be sung than had +hitherto been the case. We are told that his chants—to +use the phrase of his contemporary, Francis of Cologne—were +“all for sweetness and melodious sound”; and St. +Augustine (354–430 A.D.), speaks of them with ecstasy. +The words in these hymns were used in connection with +small groups of notes; consequently they could be understood +as they were sung, thus returning in a measure to +the character of the music of the ancients, in which the +word and declamation were of greater importance than +the actual sounds which accompanied them. But now a +strange thing was to happen that was to give us a new art. +Now, at last, music was to be separated from language and +dance rhythms, and stand alone for the first time in the +history of civilization as <i>pure music</i>. +</p> + +<p> +To appreciate the change made by Gregory (540–604 +A.D.), it is necessary to bear in mind the state of the +church just before his time. As the Ambrosian chant +had brought something of the old declamation and sweetness +back into the church ceremonial, so also in the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page103" id="page103" title="103"></a> +church itself there was a tendency to sink back into the +golden shimmer that had surrounded the ancient pagan +rites. Already Paul of Samosata, Bishop of Antioch +(260 A.D.), had striven to bring a certain Oriental +magnificence into the church ceremonials. He had a +canopied throne erected for himself, from which he would +address his congregation; he introduced applause into the +church, after the fashion of the Roman theatres; he also +had a chorus of women singers, who, as Eusebius tells us, +sang not the Christian hymns, but pagan tunes. Later, +in Constantinople, even this luxury and pomp increased; +the churches had domes of burnished gold, and had become +gigantic palaces, lit by thousands of lamps. The choir, +dressed in glittering robes, was placed in the middle of +the church, and these singers began to show the same +fatal sign of decadence that we saw before in Rome and +Greece. According to St. Chrysostom (347–407 A.D.), +they used unguents on their throats in order to make the +voice flexible, for by this time the singing had become a +mere vehicle for virtuosity; when they sang their <i>tours de +force</i>, the people applauded and waved their handkerchiefs, +as they did also when the preaching pleased them. +The pagans pointed the finger of scorn at the Christians, +as being mere renegades from the old religion, and said, +plausibly enough, that their worship was merely another +form of the Dionysus tragedy. There was the same altar, +the same chorus, the priest who sang and was answered +by the chorus; and the resemblance had grown to such an +extent that St. Chrysostom (350 A.D.) complained that +the church chorus accompanied its singing with theatrical +<a class="pagebreak" name="page104" id="page104" title="104"></a> +gestures, which, as we know, is simply the first step towards +the dance. +</p> + +<p> +This was the state of things when Gregory became +Pope in 590 A.D. His additions to the modes already +in use have been explained. His great reform lay in +severing the connection between the music of the church +and that of the pagan world before it. Casting aside the +declamation and rhythm, which up to now had always +dominated pure sound, he abolished the style of church +singing in vogue, and substituted for it a system of chanting +in which every tie between the words and music was +severed. +</p> + +<p> +The music was certainly primitive enough, for it consisted +merely of a rising and falling of the voice for the +space of many notes on one single syllable, as, for instance, +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/gloria.png" width="531" height="57" + alt="[F: (f g f g a a) a (a a a g a g g f a)] [W: Gloria]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +The difference between this and the Ambrosian chant is +evident if we look at the following; and we must also bear +in mind that the Ambrosian chants were very simple in +comparison with the florid <i>tours de force</i> of the Byzantine +church: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/al_me.png" width="531" height="158" + alt="[F: d (d f) (d e) f | (g f) (g a) a | (a g) a c' d'] + [W: Al me pater | Ambrosi, | nostras, preces,] + [F: (a b) a | a g a f e d] + [W: audi | Christe, exaudinos]" /> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page105" id="page105" title="105"></a> +Now this reform could not be carried out at once; +it was only through the medium of Charlemagne (742–814 +A.D.), a hundred years later, that the Gregorian +chant was firmly established. Authorized by a synod of +bishops, called together from all parts of Europe by Pope +Adrian I, Charlemagne, in 774, caused all the chant and +hymn books of the Ambrosian system throughout Italy to +be burned. So completely was this accomplished that +only one Ambrosian missal was found (by St. Eugenius at +Milan), and from this work alone can we form any idea +as to the character of the music used by the followers of +Ambrose, who were much retarded by the lack of a musical +notation, which was the next factor needed to bring +music to an equality with the other arts. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft07"> 7 </a></span><a name="fn07"></a> +Imitating the sound of the thing signified. Poe's “Raven” +has much of this character.</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft08"> 8 </a></span><a name="fn08"></a> +<!-- [.c] -->ċ, perfect pause; c·, short; c., shortest; + breathings: +<img src="images/hard.png" width="4" height="15" alt="`" /> hard; +<img src="images/soft.png" width="4" height="15" alt="'" /> soft.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page106" id="page106" title="106"></a> +VIII<br /><br /> +FORMATION OF THE SCALE—NOTATION</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +comparing the Ambrosian chant with that of Gregory, +it may be said that we have touched upon the vital +principle of modern music. The novelty in the Gregorian +chant consisted in its absolute emancipation from the +tyranny of actual words and declamation; while the idea, +the poetic principle, or religious ecstasy still remained the +ideal to be expressed in the music. Before this, as already +explained, music was either a mathematical problem, a +rhythm to mark the time in dancing, or a vehicle serving +for the display of clever <i>tours de force</i>, the music of the +tragedies being merely a kind of melodious declamation. +To quote Goethe, “having recognized the fact, it still +remains for us to see how it developed.” Let us now consider +this point. +</p> + +<p> +Three things were necessary before these Gregorian +chants could develop at all: (1) A simple, clean-cut +musical scale or systematized table of musical sounds. +(2) Some definite manner of symbolizing sounds, so that +they could be accurately expressed in writing. (3) A +cultivation of the sense of hearing, in order that mankind +might learn to distinguish between sounds that are discordant +and those that sound well together; in other +words, harmony. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page107" id="page107" title="107"></a> +We will begin with the scale, and review what we know +of the Greek modes in order to show how they were +amalgamated into our present octave system of scales. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<p> +<img src="images/modes.png" width="507" height="241" + alt="a, (Proslambanómenos) + Mixolydian: b, (Hýpate) - b (Paramese) + Lydian: c (Parhýpate) - c' (Trite) + Phrygian: d (Líchanos) - d' (Páranete) + Dorian: e (Hýpate) - e' (Nete) + Hypolydian: f (Parhýpate) - f' (Trite) + Hypophrygian: g (Líchanos) - g' (Páranete) + Aeolian or Locrian or Hypodorian: a (Mese) - a' (Nete)" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Under Ambrose and Pope Gregory, these modes had +taken a different form. The chromatic and enharmonic +styles had been abandoned in theory, the portamento +which the singers introduced into their chants being the +only principle retained. The new system was as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<p> +<img src="images/modes_2.png" width="508" height="137" + alt="Hypoion. (g), Hypodor. (a), Hypophryg. (b), Hypolyd./Ionian (c), + Hypo-mixolyd./Dorian (d), Hypoaeol./Phryg. (e), Lyd. (f), Mixolyd. (g), + Aeol. (a)" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In order to complete the story of the evolution of scales +and clefs, we must add that the Flemish monk, Hucbald +(900 A.D.), divided this scale into regular tetrachords, +beginning at G, with the succession, tone, semitone, tone, +forming four disjunct tetrachords, +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page108" id="page108" title="108"></a> +<a href="midi/hucbald_tetra.midi"><img + src="images/tetrachords.png" width="541" height="105" + alt="[F: (g, a, b-, c) (d e f g) (a b c' d') G: (e' f+' g' a')]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +This division remained without influence on the development +of the scale. +</p> + +<p> +The first change in the <i>tetrachord</i> system of reckoning +tones and dividing the scale was made by Guido d'Arezzo +(first half of eleventh century), who divided it into hexachords +or groups of six notes each. Up to that time, +each note of the scale had had a letter of the alphabet for +its symbol. It was Guido who conceived the idea of +using syllables for these notes. The story of how it +occurred to him is well known: On one occasion, hearing +his brethren in the monastery choir of Arezzo, in Tuscany, +sing a hymn to St. John the Baptist, he noticed that the +first syllable of each line came on regularly ascending +notes of the scale, the first syllable coming on C, the +first of the next line on D, the first of the third on E, etc., +up to A on the sixth line. As all these syllables happened +to differ one from the other, and, moreover, were very +easy to sing, he hit upon the idea of using them to distinguish +the notes on which they fell in the hymn. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page109" id="page109" title="109"></a> +<img src="images/sol_fa.png" width="531" height="149" + alt="[F: c d f (d e) d | d d c d e e ] + [W: _Ut_ queant laxis | _Re_sonare fibris ] + [F: (e f g) e (d e) c d | f g a (g f) d d] + [W: _Mi_ra gestorum | _Fa_muli tuorum ] + [F: (g a g) e f g d | a g a f (g a) a | (g f) d c e d ] + [W: _Sol_ve polluti | _La_bii reatum | Sancte Joannes]"/> +</p> + +<p> +Furthermore, as there were six of these syllables, he +arranged the musical scale in groups of six notes instead +of four, hexachords instead of tetrachords. Commencing +with G, which was the lowest note of the system in +Hucbald's time, the first hexachord was formed of +G A B C D E; +the second, following the example of the Greeks, +he made to overlap the first, namely, C D E F G A; the +third, likewise overlapping the second, commenced on +F. In order to make this hexachord identical in structure +with, the first and second, he flatted the B, thus making +the succession of notes, F G A B♭ C D. The next three +hexachords were repetitions of the first three, namely, +G A B C D E, C D E F G A, +F G A B♭ C D; the last +was again a repetition of the first, G A B C D E. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4 class="sc">The Gamut.</h4> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page110" id="page110" title="110"></a> +<img src="images/gamut.png" width="508" height="450" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +To the lowest note of this scale, which was foreign to +the Greek system, he gave a special name, <i>gamma</i>, after +the Greek letter G. From this we get our word for the +scale, the gamut. The other notes remained the same as +before, only that for the lowest octave capital letters were +used; in the next octave, the notes were designated by +small letters, and in the last octave by double letters, aa, +bb, etc., as in the following example. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<p> +<img src="images/cases.png" width="305" height="78" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</p> + +<h4 class="sc">Present Scale.</h4> + +<p> +<img src="images/scale_present.png" width="504" height="147" + alt="[F: c,, | c, | c G: c' | c'' | c''' | c''''] + [W: C_ | C | c : c' | c'' | c''' | c''''] + [W: Contra | Great | Small : 1st | 2nd | 3rd | 4th ]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Following out his system, he applied the newly acquired +syllables to each of the hexachords—for instance, the +lowest hexachord, G A B C D E, which was called hard, +became <i>ut</i> <i>re</i> <i>mi</i> <i>fa</i> <i>sol</i> <i>la</i>; the second, which was called +natural, C D E F G A, also became +<i>ut</i> <i>re</i> <i>mi</i> <i>fa</i> <i>sol</i> <i>la</i>; +<a class="pagebreak" name="page111" id="page111" title="111"></a> +and the third, which was called soft, F G A B♭ C D, +became likewise <i>ut</i> <i>re</i> <i>mi</i> <i>fa</i> <i>sol</i> <i>la</i>. The next three +hexachords were treated in the same manner; the last +or seventh hexachord was merely a repetition of the first +and the fourth. +</p> + +<p> +Now in the hymns, and also in the sequences, as they +were called (which were simply a series of notes forming +a little melody sung to two or three words), the voice was +rarely called upon to progress more than the interval of +a sixth, and so this solmization, as the new system was +called, was very valuable; for one had only to give the +pitch, and <i>ut</i> always meant the keynote, <i>re</i> the second, +<i>mi</i> the third, etc., etc. In time <i>ut</i> was found to be a +difficult syllable to sing, and <i>do</i> was substituted. This +change, however, was made after the scale was divided +into a system of octaves instead of hexachords. The +improvement in singing soon made the limits of the hexachords +too small to be practical; therefore another syllable +was added to the hexachordal system, <i>si</i>, and with this +seventh note we have our modern scale. From this we see +that the scale in present use is composed of octaves, just +as the older scales were composed of hexachords, and +before that tetrachords. Just as in mediæval times each +hexachord commenced with <i>ut</i>, so now every octave of +our tonal system commences with <i>do</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Before leaving the hexachordal system, it may be as +well to explain the mode of procedure when the voice had +to go beyond the interval of the sixth. We know that +the first of every set of six notes was called <i>ut</i>, the second, +<i>re</i>, the third, <i>mi</i>, etc. When the voice had to go beyond +<a class="pagebreak" name="page112" id="page112" title="112"></a> +<i>la</i>, the sixth note, to B♮, that sixth note was always called +<i>re</i>, and was considered the second note of a new hexachord. +If, on the other hand, the voice had to go beyond +<i>a</i>, to B♭, the fifth note was called <i>re</i>, since the syllables +<i>mi fa</i> must always come on the half-tone. +</p> + +<p> +In a study of our system of writing music, it may be +as well to begin with the derivation of our sharps and +flats. Observing the third hexachord on our list we see +that in order to make it identical in structure with the +first and second, the B had to be lowered a semitone. +Now the third hexachord was called soft. The B♭ in +it was accordingly called a soft B or B <i>molle</i>, which is +still the name in France for a flat, and <i>moll</i> in German +still means minor, or “soft” or “lowered.” For the +fourth hexachord, which was called hard, this B was +again raised a semitone. But the flatted B was already +indicated by the letter <i>b</i> or round <i>b</i>, as it was called; +hence this B natural was given a <i>square</i> shape and called +B <i>carré</i>, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/b_carre.png" width="7" height="21" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +The present French word for natural (when +it is specially marked) is <i>bécarré</i>; the German word for +major also comes indirectly from this, for <i>dur</i> means +“hard.” +</p> + +<p> +An explanation of the modern German names for notes +will be easily understood in this connection. In the +German nomenclature the letters of the alphabet stand +for the notes of the scale as in the English, with the exception +of B. This B, or “round” B, in the German system +stands for B♭, which is more logical than our English +usage, since our flat is merely a slightly modified form of +<i>b</i>. The German B natural is our letter <i>h</i>, which is merely +<a class="pagebreak" name="page113" id="page113" title="113"></a> +a corruption of the square <i>b</i>, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/b_carre.png" width="7" height="21" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +which by the addition of +a line in time became our ♮. The Germans have carried +the flatting and sharping of tones to a logical conclusion +in their present nomenclature, for by “sharping” +the sound of a single letter it is raised a semitone from its +normal diapason, thus F becomes <i>Fis</i>, G <i>Gis</i>. On the +other hand, in order to lower a tone, the letter representing +it is “flatted,” and F is called <i>Fes</i>, G <i>Ges</i>, the only exception +to these rules being the B which we have already +considered. +</p> + +<p> +In France the Guidonian system was adhered to closely, +and to this day the <i>bécarré</i> is used only as an accidental, +to indicate that the note to which it refers has been +flatted before. The <i>naturel</i> (which has the same shape) +is used to designate a note that is natural to the +key; thus the distinction is made between an accidental +and a note that is common to the key. In F major, +for instance, B♮ is <i>si bécarré</i>, A♮ would be <i>la naturel</i>. +Our modern sharp is merely another form of the natural +or square B (♮) which gradually came to be used before +<i>any</i> note, signifying that it was raised or sharped a half-tone; +the flat lowered it a semitone, and after a while the +natural received its present place between the sharp and +flat. The first instance we have of the sharp being used +is in the thirteenth century, when (in the Rondels of +Adam de la Hale) it takes the form of a cross × (the +German word for the sharp still remains <i>kreuz</i>). The +French word <i>diese</i> (sharp) comes from the Greek <i>diesis</i>, +a term used to indicate the raising of the voice in the +chromatic scale. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page114" id="page114" title="114"></a> +And now we have to speak of notation and its development. +Thus far we have found only two ways in which +musical sounds were indicated by the ancients. First, we +remember the invention of Aristophanes of Alexandria, +his accents, high, low, and circumflex. Then we know +from Ptolemy, Bœthius, and Alypius that letters were +used to designate the different tones; but as there is no +music extant in this notation to prove the theory, we need +not trouble ourselves with it. +</p> + +<p> +The system of Aristophanes, however, was destined to +become the nucleus from which our modern notation +sprang. We know that an elementary idea, clearly expressed, +has more chances of living than has a more complicated +system, however ingenious the latter may be. +Now this system is so plain that we will find it is common +to many aboriginal peoples, for instance the American +Indians have a system very similar. +</p> + +<p> +In the period now under consideration (from the third +to the tenth century), music was noted in this way: an upstroke +of the pen meant a raising of the voice, a downstroke +lowered it, a flat stroke meant a repetition of the +same note, thus +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/upstroke.png" width="15" height="15" alt="/" /> +<img src="images/downstroke.png" width="15" height="15" alt="\" /> +<img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_cgcc.png" width="140" height="49" + alt="[G: c' g' c' c']" />.</span> Gradually +it became necessary to indicate the contour of the melodies +with more accuracy; therefore the circumflex was +added +<img src="images/frown.png" width="17" height="8" alt="[Over-slur]" /> +<img src="images/notes_gcg_lig.png" width="113" height="49" + alt="[G: g' c'' g']" /> +and reversed +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="[Under-slur]" /> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_geg_lig.png" width="113" height="49" + alt="[G: g' e' g']" />.</span> +Still +later a sign for two steps was invented +<img src="images/step.png" width="26" height="26" alt="[Step]" /> +<img src="images/notes_egb.png" width="116" height="49" + alt="[G: e' g' b']" /> +and when the progression was to be diatonically stepwise +<a class="pagebreak" name="page115" id="page115" title="115"></a> +the strokes were thicker +<img src="images/thick_step.png" width="39" height="30" alt="[Thick Step]" /> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_gab.png" width="114" height="49" alt="[G: g' a' b']" />.</span> +So this notation +developed, and by combining the many signs together, +simple non-rhythmic melodies could be indicated with comparative +clearness and simplicity. The flat stroke for a +single note +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/long.png" width="19" height="8" alt="-" />,</span> +indicating +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_b.png" width="60" height="49" alt="[G: b']" />,</span> +eventually became smaller +and thicker, thus +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/thick_line.png" width="15" height="5" alt="[Thick -]" />.</span> +By combining these different signs, +a skip of a third and back came to be noted +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/crenellation.png" width="34" height="15" + alt="[Crenellation]" />,</span> +and +if the note came down on a second instead of the original +note it became +<img src="images/podium.png" width="33" height="16" alt="[Podium]" /> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_gba_lig.png" width="114" height="49" + alt="[G: g' b' a']" />.</span> +The <i>quilisma</i> +<span class="nobr">(<img src="images/quilisma.png" width="17" height="6" + alt="[Upper Mordent]" />)</span> +indicated +a repetition of two notes, one above the other, and +we still use much the same sign for our trill. Also the two +forms of the circumflex, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/frown.png" width="17" height="8" alt="[Over-slur]" /> +<img src="images/smile.png" width="17" height="8" alt="[Under-slur]" />,</span> +were joined +<span class="nobr">(<img src="images/turn.png" width="24" height="11" alt="[Turn]" />)</span> +and thus +we have the modern turn, so much used by Wagner. +</p> + +<p> +Now while this notation was ingenious, it still left much +to be desired as to pitch. To remedy this a red line was +drawn before writing these signs or <i>neumes</i>, as they were +called. This line represented a given pitch, generally E; +above and below it were then written the signs for the +notes, their pitch being determined by the relative position +they held in regard to the <i>line</i>. Thus +<img src="images/neumes1.png" width="78" height="19" + alt="[Podium, Turn, Upper Mordent]" /> +was the +equivalent of +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/neumes2.png" width="182" height="49" + alt="[G: c' e' d' e' d' c' d' e' d' e' d' e' d']" />,</span> +considering +the line as being middle C pitch, a fourth higher F. +This was the condition of musical notation in 1000 A.D. +</p> + +<p> +To Guido d'Arezzo is ascribed its development up to +some semblance of our present system, although the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page116" id="page116" title="116"></a> +claim has often been denied. It is certain, however, that +the innovations were made at this period. In the first +place Guido made the red line <i>always</i> stand for the pitch +of F, and at a little distance above it he added another +line, this time yellow, which was to indicate the pitch of +C. Thus the signs began to take very definite meaning +as regards pitch; for, given a sign extending from one line +to the other, the reader could see at a glance that the +music progressed a fifth, from F to C, or <i>vice-versa</i>. And +now the copyists, seeing the value of these lines in determining +the pitch of the different signs, of their own account +added two more in black ink, one of which they drew +between the F and the C line, and the other above the +C line, thus +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/staff_dotted.png" width="82" height="22" + alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +By doing this they accurately +decided the pitch of every note, for the lowest line, being +F, the line between that and the C line must stand for A, +and the two spaces for G and B; the top line would stand +for E, and the space between it and the yellow line for D. +Little by little these copyists grew careless about +making the lines in yellow, red, and black, and sometimes +drew them all in black or red, thereby losing the distinguishing +mark of the F and C lines. In order to remedy +this, Guido placed the letters F and C before the lines representing +these notes, thus +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/staff_cf.png" width="74" height="24" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +In this way our +modern <i>clefs</i> (<i>clavis</i> or key) originated, for the C clef, as +it is called, gradually changed its shape to +<img src="images/clef_c1.png" width="75" height="21" alt="[illustration]" /> +and +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/clef_c2.png" width="49" height="26" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +and the F clef changed to +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/clef_f.png" width="78" height="25" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +which is our +bass clef in a rudimentary form. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page117" id="page117" title="117"></a> +Later, still another line was added to the set, thus giving +us our modern staff, and another clef, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/clef_g1.png" width="23" height="44" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +was added +on the next to the lowest line. This, in turn, became our +present treble clef, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/clef_g2.png" width="21" height="47" alt="[G:]" />.</span> +In the course of time the signs +themselves underwent many changes, until at last from +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/podium2.png" width="33" height="24" alt="[Podium]" />,</span> +etc., they became our modern signs. +</p> + +<p> +Before this, however, a grave defect in the notation had +to be remedied. There was as yet no way of designating +the length of time a note was to be sustained; something +definite in the way of noting <i>rhythm</i> was necessary. This +was accomplished by Franco of Cologne, in the beginning +of the thirteenth century. By disconnecting the parts +of the sign +<img src="images/podium3.png" width="30" height="34" alt="[Podium]" /> +one from another, the following individual +signs were acquired +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/podium4.png" width="44" height="24" + alt="[illustration of Podium broken into three pieces]" />.</span> +In order to have two +distinct values of length, these signs were called longs and +shorts, <i>longa</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_l.png" width="10" height="27" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +and <i>brevis</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +to which was added the +<i>brevis</i> in another position +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +called <i>semibrevis</i>. The +<i>longa</i> was twice the value of the <i>brevis</i>, and the <i>semibrevis</i> +was half the length of the <i>brevis</i> +<span class="nobr">(<img src="images/nc_l.png" width="10" height="27" alt="[L" /> = +<img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="B" /> +<img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="B" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="B" /> = +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S]" />).</span> +When notes of equal length were slurred, they were written +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/longae.png" width="33" height="39" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +When two or more notes were to be sung to one +syllable in quicker time, the <i>brevi</i> were joined one to the +other +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/brevi.png" width="19" height="19" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +as for instance in the songs of the thirteenth +century, +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4>DIRGE FOR KING RICHARD'S DEATH</h4> + +<p> +<img src="images/fortz.png" width="506" height="88" + alt="GAUCELM FAIDIT. + [Illustration: Fortz chose est que tot le maur major dam]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page118" id="page118" title="118"></a> +<img src="images/si_li1.png" width="495" height="82" + alt="ROI THIBAUT DE NAVARRE (1250). + [Illustration: Si li dis sans de laies | + Belle diex vous doint bon jour]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +or, in modern style, +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/si_li2.png" width="531" height="49" + alt="[G: g' a' b' c'' (d'' c'') (b' a' g') | + a' b' (c'' b') (b' a' g') (a' b') g']" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +In this example we find the first indication of the measuring +off of phrases into bars. As we see, it consisted of +a little stroke, which served to show the beginning of a +new line, and was not restricted to regularity of any kind +except that necessitated by the verse. +</p> + +<p> +The use of the <i>semibrevis</i> is shown in the following +chanson of Raoul de Coucy (1192): +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/quant_li1.png" width="505" height="140" + alt="[Illustration: Quant li rossignol jolis | chante + Seur la flor d'este | que n'est la rose et le lis]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/quant_li2.png" width="531" height="134" + alt="[G: d'' (c'' a') b-' (a' (g' f')) g' (a' b-' a' f') f' | f' g' + a' (b-' a') (c'' d'' c'' b-') (a' g') a' | + d'' (c'' a') b-' a' (g' f') g' (a' (b-' a') f') f']" /> +</p> + +<p> +The French troubadours and the German minnesingers +of the thirteenth century used these forms of notes only, +and even then restricted themselves to two kinds, either +the <i>longa</i> and <i>brevis</i>, or <i>brevis</i> and <i>semibrevis</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page119" id="page119" title="119"></a> +The necessity for rests very soon manifested itself, +and the following signs were invented to correspond to +the <i>longa</i>, <i>brevis</i>, and <i>semibrevis</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/rs_lbsb.png" width="126" height="20" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +Also +the number of note symbols was increased by the <i>maxima</i> +or double <i>longa</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_mx.png" width="20" height="14" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +and the <i>minima</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +which represented +half the value of the <i>semibrevis</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Now that music began taking a more definite rhythmic +form than before, a more regular dividing off of the +phrases became necessary. This was accomplished by +the use of a dot, and another form, the perpendicular +line, which we have noticed in the song of the King of +Navarre (1250). At first a means to indicate triple +time was invented, and the measure corresponding to our +<img src="images/time_98.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[9/8]" /> +was indicated by placing the sign +<img src="images/time_od.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O.]" /> +at the beginning +of the line. This was called perfect. Then, for plain +triple time the dot was omitted +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_o.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O]" />;</span> +for +<img src="images/time_68.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[6/8]" /> +time the sign +<img src="images/time_cd.png" width="12" height="14" alt="[C.]" /> +was adopted, and for ordinary common time +<img src="images/time_c.png" width="12" height="14" alt="[C]" /> +was taken. +Consequently, when these signs were placed at the beginning +of the line they changed the value of the notes to +correspond to the time marked. Thus in +<img src="images/time_od.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O.]" /> +(<i>tempus perfectum</i>, <i>prolatio major</i>) or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_98.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[9/8]" />,</span> +the <i>brevis</i> was reckoned +worth three <i>semibrevi</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="[B" /> = +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/r_1d.png" width="18" height="8" alt="[1." /> = +<img src="images/ru_4d4d4d.png" width="69" height="27" alt="4. 4. 4.]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />;</span> +the <i>semibrevis</i> +three <i>minimi</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="[S" /> = +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ru_4d.png" width="14" height="27" alt="[4." /> = +<img src="images/ru_888.png" width="40" height="25" alt="8 8 8]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />.</span> In +<img src="images/time_o.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O]" /> +or +<img src="images/time_34.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +time +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="[B" /> = +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/rd_2d.png" width="15" height="26" alt="[2." /> = +<img src="images/rd_444.png" width="56" height="26" alt="4 4 4]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />;</span> +but the <i>semibrevis</i> was +only as long as two <i>minimi</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="[S" /> = +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ru_4.png" width="9" height="27" alt="[4" /> = +<img src="images/ru_88.png" width="24" height="25" alt="8 8]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />.</span> +In +<img src="images/time_cd.png" width="12" height="14" alt="[C.]" /> +or +<img src="images/time_68.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[6/8]" /> +time +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="[B" /> = +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ru_2d.png" width="14" height="27" alt="[2." /> = +<img src="images/ru_4d4d.png" width="41" height="27" alt="4. 4.]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />,</span> +but +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="[S" /> = +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ru_4d.png" width="14" height="27" alt="[4." /> = +<img src="images/ru_888.png" width="40" height="25" alt="8 8 8]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />.</span> +In +<img src="images/time_c.png" width="12" height="14" alt="[C]" /> +or +<img src="images/time_22.png" width="9" height="25" alt="[2/2]" /> +time +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_b.png" width="10" height="11" alt="[B" /> = +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S" /> +<img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="S]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/r_1.png" width="13" height="8" alt="[1" /> = +<img src="images/ru_22.png" width="41" height="27" alt="2 2]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />,</span> +and +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_sb.png" width="13" height="10" alt="[S" /> = +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M" /> +<img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="M]" /></span> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/ob.png" width="8" height="28" alt="(" + /><img src="images/ru_2.png" width="9" height="27" alt="[2" /> = +<img src="images/ru_44.png" width="32" height="27" alt="4 4]" + /><img src="images/cb.png" width="8" height="28" alt=")" />.</span> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page120" id="page120" title="120"></a> +In the beginning of the fifteenth century the notes began +to be written in an open form +</p> + +<blockquote class="central"> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_mx.png" width="40" height="22" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Maxima</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_l.png" width="23" height="21" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Longa</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_b.png" width="13" height="12" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Brevis</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_sb.png" width="11" height="11" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Semibrevis</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_m.png" width="11" height="22" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Minima</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="right"><img src="images/no_sm.png" width="14" height="20" + alt="[Illustration]" /></td><td class="left"><i>Semiminima</i>, + which was added later.</td></tr> +</table> +</blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +As still smaller units of value were added, the <i>semiminima</i> +was replaced by +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="[filled minima]" />,</span> +and the half <i>semiminima</i> thus +became +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_f.png" width="14" height="22" alt="[minima with tail]" />,</span> +and the next smaller values, +<img src="images/nc_sf.png" width="13" height="21" alt="[two tails]" /> +and +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_dsf.png" width="14" height="28" alt="[three tails]" />.</span> +The +rest to correspond to the <i>semiminima</i> was +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/rt_c.png" width="11" height="16" alt="[illustration]" />;</span> +for the <i>semibrevis</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/rt_sb.png" width="20" height="6" alt="[illustration]" />,</span> +and <i>minima</i> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/rt_m.png" width="15" height="6" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +</p> + +<p> +Thus we have the following values and their corresponding +rests: +</p> + +<blockquote class="central"> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Maxima</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/no_mx.png" width="40" height="22" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rs_mx.png" width="82" height="32" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Longa</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/no_l.png" width="23" height="21" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rs_l.png" width="81" height="32" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Brevis</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/no_b.png" width="13" height="12" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rs_b.png" width="81" height="30" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Semibrevis</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/no_sb.png" width="11" height="11" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rs_sb.png" width="81" height="31" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Minima</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/no_m.png" width="11" height="22" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rs_m.png" width="81" height="30" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Semiminima</i> or <i>crocheta</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/nc_c.png" width="12" height="22" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> +<td><img src="images/rt_c.png" width="11" height="16" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Fusa</i> or <i>crocheta</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/nc_f.png" width="14" height="22" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> +<td><img src="images/rt_f.png" width="8" height="13" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="left"><i>Semifusa</i></td><td class="right"> + <img src="images/nc_sf.png" width="13" height="21" alt="[Illustration]" /></td> + <td><img src="images/rt_sf.png" width="9" height="17" alt="" /></td></tr> +</table> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The rests for the <i>fusa</i> and <i>semifusa</i> were turned to the left +in order to avoid the confusion that would ensue if the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page121" id="page121" title="121"></a> +rest +<img src="images/rt_confuse.png" width="11" height="27" alt="[illustration]" /> +stood for +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/nc_f.png" width="14" height="22" alt="[fusa]" />.</span> +Besides, the sign would have easily +become confused with the C clef +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/clef_c3.png" width="12" height="27" alt="[illustration]" />.</span> +</p> + +<p> +Signs for the changes of <i>tempo</i>, that is to say changes +from quick to slow, etc., were introduced in the fifteenth +century. The oldest of them consists of drawing a line +through the <i>tempus</i> sign +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/tempus.png" width="20" height="36" alt="[O|]" />.</span> +This meant that the notes +were to be played or sung twice as rapidly as would +usually be the case, without, however, affecting the relative +value of the notes to one another. Now we remember +that the sign +<img src="images/time_c4.png" width="11" height="14" alt="[C]" /> +stood for our modern +<img src="images/time_44.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" /> +time; when a line was drawn through it, +<img src="images/time_c2.png" width="11" height="18" alt="[C|]" /> +it indicated that two +<i>brevi</i> were counted as one, and the movement was said +to be <i>alla breve</i>. This is the one instance of time signatures +that has come down to us unaltered. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page122" id="page122" title="122"></a> +IX<br /><br /> +THE SYSTEMS OF HUCBALD AND GUIDO D'AREZZO—THE BEGINNING +OF COUNTERPOINT</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">We</span> +have seen that by order of Charlemagne, Ambrosian +chant was superseded by that of Gregory, and from any +history of music we may learn how he caused the Gregorian +chant to be taught to the exclusion of all other +music. Although Notker, in the monastery of St. Gall, +in Switzerland, and others developed the Gregorian chant, +until the time of Hucbald this music remained mere +wandering melody, without harmonic support of any kind. +</p> + +<p> +Hucbald (840–930) was a monk of the monastery of +St. Armand in Flanders. As we know from our studies +in notation, he was the first to improve the notation by +introducing a system of lines and spaces, of which, however, +the spaces only were utilized for indicating the notes, viz.: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/sit_gloria.png" width="504" height="291" + alt="[Illustration]" /> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page123" id="page123" title="123"></a> +His attempt to reconstruct the musical scale was afterwards +overshadowed by the system invented by Guido +d'Arezzo, and it is therefore unnecessary to describe it +in detail. His great contribution to progress was the +discovery that more than one sound could be played or +sung simultaneously, thus creating a composite sound, +the effect which we call a chord. However, in deciding +which sounds should be allowed to be played or sung +together, he was influenced partly by the mysticism of +his age, and partly by a blind adherence to the remnants +of musical theory which had been handed down from the +Greeks. As Franco of Cologne, later (1200), in systematizing +rhythm into measure, was influenced by the idea +of the Trinity in making his +<img src="images/time_38.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/8]" /> +or +<img src="images/time_98.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[9/8]" /> +time <i>tempus perfectum</i>, +and adopting for its symbol the Pythagorean circle +<img src="images/time_od.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O.]" /> +or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_o.png" width="14" height="14" alt="[O]" />,</span> +so Hucbald, in choosing his series of concords or +sounds that harmonize well together, took the first +three notes of the overtones of every sonorous fundamental, +or, to express it differently, of the series of natural +harmonics, that is to say, he admitted the octave and fifth: +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/notes_gdg.png" width="147" height="30" + alt="[F: g, d g]" />.</span> +But from the fifth to the octave gives +the interval of the fourth, therefore he permitted this +combination also. +</p> + +<p> +From the works of Bœthius (<i>circa</i> 400) and others, he +had derived and accepted the Pythagorean division of +the scale, making thirds and sixths dissonant intervals; +and so his perfect chord (from which our later triad gets +its name of <i>perfect</i>) was composed of a root, fifth or fourth, +and octave. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page124" id="page124" title="124"></a> +Hucbald, as I have already explained, changed the +Greek tone system somewhat by arranging it in four +regular disjunct tetrachords, namely: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a href="midi/hucbald_tetra.midi"><img src="images/hucbald_tetra.png" + width="531" height="50" alt="[F: (g, a, b-, c) (d e f g) + G: (a b c' d') (e' f+' g' a')]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +This system permitted the addition of a fifth to each +note indiscriminately, and the fifths would always be +<i>perfect</i>; but in regard to the octaves it was faulty, for +obvious reasons. As his system of notation consisted of +merely writing T for tone and S for semitone between +the lines of his staff, it was only necessary to change the +order of these letters for the octave at the beginning of +each line. With the fourth, however, this device was +impossible, and therefore he laid down the rule that when +the voices proceeded in fourths, and a discord (or augmented +fourth) was unavoidable, the lower voice was to +remain on the same note until it could jump to another +fourth forming a perfect interval: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/hucbald_fourths.png" width="531" height="41" + alt="[F: {g b} {g b} {g a} {g b} {d a} {d g} + {c f} {c e} {a, d} {g, c}]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +This at least brought into the harmony an occasional third, +which gradually became a recognized factor in music. +</p> + +<p> +We probably know that the year 1000 was generally +accepted as the time when the world was to come to an +end. In the <i>Bibliothèque Nationale</i> in Paris there is a +manuscript containing the prophecy which had been +handed down for many centuries; also the signs for the +notes to which it was to be sung, viz.: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page125" id="page125" title="125"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure07.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure07.png" width="531" height="131" alt="[Figure 07]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +The text is: +</p> + +<blockquote><p> +The Judge will speak and the earth shall tremble with awe. +The stars shall be destroyed and the glory of the moon shall die, the +mountains shall be crushed and the world with all in it shall utterly +perish. +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +With the opening of the eleventh century, such was +the relief from this fear which had been oppressing Christendom, +that even the church reflected it in such strange +rites as the <i>Feast of Asses</i> (January 14th), which was a +burlesque of the Mass. +</p> + +<p> +In this travesty of the Mass a young girl, dressed to +represent the Virgin, riding on an ass and carrying a +child in her arms, was conducted to the church door. +Upon being admitted and riding up the aisle to the altar, +the girl tethered the ass to the railing and sat on the +steps until the service was finished. The <i>Credo</i>, <i>Gloria</i>, +etc., all ended with a “hee-haw,” and at the conclusion +of the service the officiating priest brayed three times, +and was answered by the congregation. The mixing of +the vernacular with Latin in this service is the first +instance of the use of any language but Latin in church +music. +</p> + +<p> +This quasi-symbolical pantomime gave rise in time to +the mediæval Passion Plays, or Mysteries, as they were +called. That these travesties of the Mass took different +<a class="pagebreak" name="page126" id="page126" title="126"></a> +forms in various countries is very evident when we remember +the description of the “Abbot of Unreason,” in Scott's +“Abbot.” In England, among other absurdities such as +the “Pope of Fools,” the “Ball Dance,” etc., they also +had the festival of the “Boy Bishop,” in which, between +the sixth and twenty-eighth of December, a boy was +made to perform all the functions of a bishop. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that all this has but little bearing upon +the development of music. As a matter of fact it was a +most potent factor in it, for music was essentially and +exclusively a church property. By permitting the people +to secularize the church rites at certain seasons, it was +inevitable that church music would also become common +property for a time, with this difference, however, that the +common people could carry the tunes away with them, +and the music would be the only thing remaining as a +recollection of the carnival. Indeed, the prevalence of +popular songs soon became such that writers of church +music began to use them instead of their being derived +from church music, as was originally the case. This +continued to such an extent that almost up to 1550 a +mass was known by the name of the popular song it was +based upon, as, for instance, the mass of the “Man in +Armour,” by Josquin dés Pres, and those entitled “<i>Je +prends conge</i>” and “<i>Je veult cent mille ecus</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Now we know that the <i>tempus perfectum</i> was <i>par excellence</i> +<img src="images/time_98.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[9/8]" /> +and +<img src="images/time_34.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +time. It was natural therefore that these +first church tunes should have been changed to dances in +the hands of the common people. Even in these dances +it is interesting to note that the same symbolic significance +<a class="pagebreak" name="page127" id="page127" title="127"></a> +appears to be present, for the earliest form of these dances +was the “round song,” or roundelay, and it was danced +in a circle. +</p> + +<p> +Duple time did not come into general use until the +beginning of the fourteenth century. About the same +time, the organum (as it was called) or system of harmonization +of Hucbald was discarded, and Johannes de +Muris and Philippe de Vitry championed the consonant +quality of the third and sixth, both major and minor. +The fifth was retained as a consonant, but the fourth was +passed over in silence by the French school of writers, or +classed with the dissonants. Successive fifths were prohibited +as being too harshly dissonant, but successive +fourths were necessarily permitted, as it would be an impossibility +to do without them. Nevertheless, the fourth +was still considered a dissonance, and was permitted only +between the upper parts of the music. Thus the harsh +consecutive passages in fifths and fourths of the organum +of Hucbald disappeared in favour of the softer progressions +of thirds and sixths. +</p> + +<p> +<a name="ft09"></a>In order to make clear how the new science of counterpoint +came into existence, I must again revert to +Hucbald.<a class="fn" href="#fn09"> 9 </a> +</p> + +<p> +Before his time, all “recognized” music was a more or +less melodious succession of tones, generally of the same +<a class="pagebreak" name="page128" id="page128" title="128"></a> +length, one syllable being sometimes used for many +notes. He discovered that a melody might be sung by +several singers, each commencing at a different pitch +instead of all singing the same notes at the same time. +He also laid down rules as to how this was to be done to +produce the best effect. We remember why he chose the +fourth, fifth, and octave in preference to the third and +sixth. He called his system an “organum” or “diaphony,” +and to sing according to his rules was called to “organize” +or “organate.” We must remember that at that time +fourths and fifths were not always indicated in the written +music; only the melody, which was called the principal +or subject. By studying the rules prescribed for the +organum, the singers could add the proper intervals to +the melody. We must keep in mind, however, that +later fourths were preferred to fifths (being considered +less harsh), and that the musical scale of the period compelled +the different voices to vary slightly, that is to say, +two voices could not sing exactly the same melody at the +interval of a fourth without the use of sharps or flats; +therefore one voice continued on the same note until the +awkward place was passed, and then proceeded in fourths +again with the other voice as before: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/fourths_move.png" width="152" height="49" + alt="[G: {e' a'} {d' g'} {d' f+'} {d' e'}]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +On account of the augmented fourth that would occur by a +strict adherence to the melodic structure of the subject, the +following would have been impossible: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/fourths_no_go.png" width="118" height="49" + alt="[G: {e' a'} {d' g'} ({c' f+'})]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page129" id="page129" title="129"></a> +Thus we find the first instance of the use of thirds, and +also of oblique motion as opposed to the earlier inevitable +parallel motion of the voices. <a name="ft10"></a>This necessary freedom in +singing the organum or diaphony led to the attempt to +sing two <i>different</i> melodies, one against the other—“note +against note,” or “point counter +point,”<a class="fn" href="#fn10"> 10 </a> +point or <i>punct</i> +being the name for the written note. There being now +two distinct melodies, both had to be <i>noted</i> instead of +leaving it to the singers to add their parts extemporaneously, +according to the rules of the organum, as they +had done previously. Already earlier than this (in 1100), +owing to the tendency to discard consecutive fourths and +fifths, the intermovement of the voices, from being parallel +and oblique, became <i>contrary</i>, thus avoiding the parallel +succession of intervals. The name “organum” was +dropped and the new system became known as tenor +and descant, the tenor being the principal or foundation +melody, and the descant or descants (for there could be as +many as there were parts or voices to the music) taking +the place of the organum. The difference between <i>discantus</i> +and <i>diaphony</i> was that the latter consisted of +several parts or voices, which, however, were more or less +exact reproductions, at different pitch, of the principal or +given melody, while the former was composed of entirely +different melodic and rhythmic material. This gave rise +to the science of counterpoint, which, as I have said, +consists of the trick of making a number of voices sing +different melodies at the same time without violating +certain given rules. <a name="ft11"></a>The given melody or “principal” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page130" id="page130" title="130"></a> +soon acquired the name of <i>cantus firmus</i>, and the other +parts were each called +<i>contrapunctus</i>,<a class="fn" href="#fn11"> 11 </a> +as before they had +been called tenor and descant. These names were first +used by Gerson, Chancellor of Notre Dame, Paris, about +1400. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime (about 1300–1375), the occasional use +of thirds and sixths in the diaphonies previously explained +led to an entirely different kind of singing, called <i>falso +bordone</i> or <i>faux bourdon</i> (<i>bordonizare</i>, “to drone,” comes +from a kind of pedal in organum that first brought the +third into use). This system, contrary to the old organum, +consisted of using only thirds and sixths together, excluding +the fourth and fifth entirely, except in the first +and last bars. This innovation has been ascribed to the +Flemish singers attached to the Papal Choir (about 1377), +when Pope Gregory XI returned from Avignon to Rome. +In the British Museum, however, there are manuscripts +dating from the previous century, showing that the <i>faux +bourdon</i> had already commenced to make its way against +the old systems of Hucbald and Guido. The combination +of the <i>faux bourdon</i> and the remnant of the organum +gives us the foundation for our modern tone system. +The old rules, making plagal motion of the different +voices preferable to parallel motion, and contrary motion +preferable to either, still hold good in our works on theory; +so also in regard to the rules forbidding consecutive fifths +and octaves, leaving the question of the fourth in doubt. +</p> + +<p> +To sum up, we may say, therefore, that up to the +sixteenth century, all music was composed of the slender +<a class="pagebreak" name="page131" id="page131" title="131"></a> +material of thirds, sixths, fifths, and octaves, fourths being +permitted only <i>between</i> the voices; consecutive successions +of fourths, however, were permitted, a license not allowed +in the use of fifths or octaves. This leads us directly +to a consideration of the laws of counterpoint and fugue, +laws that have remained practically unchanged up to the +present, with the one difference that, instead of being +restricted to the meagre material of the so-called consonants, +the growing use of what were once called dissonant +chords, such as the dominant seventh, ninth, +diminished seventh, and latterly the so-called altered +chords, has brought new riches to the art. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of going at once into a consideration of the +laws of counterpoint, it will be well to take up the development +of the instrumental resources of the time. There +were three distinct types of music: the ecclesiastical +type (which of course predominated) found its expression +in melodies sung by church choirs, four or more melodies +being sometimes sung simultaneously, in accordance with +certain fixed rules, as I have already explained. These +melodies or chants were often accompanied by the organ, +of which we will speak later. The second type was purely +instrumental, and served as an accompaniment for the +dance, or consisted of <i>fanfares</i> (ceremonial horn signals), or +hunting signals. The third type was that of the so-called +<i>trouvères</i> or <i>troubadours</i>, with their <i>jongleurs</i>, and the +minnesingers, and, later, the mastersingers. All these +“minstrels,” as we may call them, accompanied their +singing by some instrument, generally one of the lute type +or the psaltery. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft09"> 9 </a></span><a name="fn09"></a> +There is much question as to Hucbald's organum. That +actually these dissonances were used even up to 1500 is proved by +Franco Gafurius of Milan, who mentions a Litany for the Dead +(<i>De Profundis</i>) much used at that time:</p> + +<p class="central"> +<img src="images/profundis.png" width="243" height="61" + alt="[Illustration: De profundis, etc.]" /> +</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft10"> 10 </a></span><a name="fn10"></a> +Counterpoint is first mentioned by Muris (1300).</p> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft11"> 11 </a></span><a name="fn11"></a> +Only principal (tenor or cantus firmus) was sung to words.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page132" id="page132" title="132"></a> +X<br /><br /> +MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS—THEIR HISTORY AND DEVELOPMENT</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +church music, the organ is perhaps the first instrument +to be considered. In 951, Elfeg, the Bishop of Winchester +had built in his cathedral a great organ which +had four hundred pipes and twenty-six pairs of bellows, +to manage which seventy strong men were necessary. +Wolstan, in his life of St. Swithin, the Benedictine +monk, gives an account of the exhausting work required +to keep the bellows in action. +</p> + +<p> +Two performers were necessary to play this organ, +just as nowadays we play four-hand music on the piano. +The keys went down with such difficulty that the players +had to use their elbows or fists on each key; therefore it +is easy to see that, at the most, only four keys could be +pressed down at the same time. On the other hand, +each key when pressed down or pushed back (for in the +early organs the keyboard was perpendicular) gave the +wind from the bellows access to ten pipes each, which +were probably tuned in octaves or, possibly, according +to the organum of Hucbald, in fifths or fourths. This +particular organ had two sets of keys (called manuals), +one for each player; there were twenty keys to each +manual, and every key caused ten pipes to sound. The +compass of this organ was restricted to ten notes, repeated +<a class="pagebreak" name="page133" id="page133" title="133"></a> +at the distance of an octave, and, there being four hundred +pipes, forty pipes were available for each note. On +each key was inscribed the name of the note. As may +be imagined, the tone of this instrument was such that it +could be heard at a great distance. +</p> + +<p> +There were many smaller organs, as, for instance, the +one in the monastery of Ramsey, which had copper +pipes. Pictures of others from the twelfth century show +that even where there were only ten pipes, the organ +had two manuals, needed two players, and at least four +men for the bellows. The great exertion required to play +these instruments led to the invention of what is called +“mixtures.” From the moment fifths and fourths were +considered to sound better together than the simple +notes, the pipes were so arranged that the player did not +need to press two of the ponderous organ keys for this +combination of sounds. One key was made to open the +valves of the two sets of pipes, so that each key, instead of +sounding one note, would, at will, sound the open fifth, +fourth, or octave. With the addition of the third, thus +constituting a perfect major triad, this barbarous habit +has come down to our present day almost unchanged, for +by using what is called the “mixture stop” of our modern +organs, each key of the manual gives not only the original +note, but also its perfect major triad, several octaves +higher. +</p> + +<p> +Originally the organ was used only to give the right +intonation for the chanting of the priests. From the +twelfth century, small portable organs of limited compass +were much used; although the tone of these instruments +<a class="pagebreak" name="page134" id="page134" title="134"></a> +was necessarily slight, and, owing to the shortness of +the pipes, high in pitch, the principle of the mechanism +was similar to that of the larger instruments. They were +hung by means of a strap passed over the shoulders; one +hand pressed the keys in front of the pipes (which were +arranged perpendicularly), and the other hand operated +the small bellows behind the pipes. These small instruments +rarely had more than eight pipes, consequently +they possessed only the compass of an octave. With +slight variations, they were quite universally used up to +the seventeenth century. Organ pedals were invented in +Germany about 1325. Bernhard, organist of St. Mark's, +Venice (1445–1459), has been credited with the invention +of organ pedals, but it is probable that he merely introduced +them into Italy. +</p> + +<p> +As the Greek modes formed the basis for the musical +system of the church, so the Greek monochord is the +type from which the monks evolved what they called +the clavichord. The monochord has a movable bridge, +therefore some time is lost in adjusting it in order to +get the different tones. To obviate this inconvenience, a +number of strings were placed side by side, and a mechanism +inserted which, by pressing a key (<i>clavis</i>), would move +the bridge to the point at which the string must divide to +give the note indicated by the key. This made it possible +to use one string for several different notes, and explains +why the clavichord or clavicembalo needed comparatively +few strings. This instrument became obsolete toward the +end of the eighteenth century. +</p> + +<p> +The other species of instrument, the harpsichord, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page135" id="page135" title="135"></a> +which was invented about 1400, and which may be considered +as having sprung from the clavichord, consisted +of a separate string for each sound; the key, instead of +setting in action a device for striking and at the same +time <i>dividing</i> the strings, caused the strings to be plucked +by quills. Thus, in these instruments, not only was an +entirely different quality of tone produced, but the pitch +of a string remained unaltered. These instruments were +called <i>bundfrei</i>, “unbound,” in opposition to the <i>clavicembalo</i>, +which was called <i>gebunden</i>, or “bound.” The harpsichord +was much more complicated than the clavichord, +in that the latter ceased to sound when the key which +moved the bridge was released, whereas the harpsichord +required what is called a “damper” to stop the sound when +the key came up; once the string was touched by the quill, +all command of the tone by the key was lost. To regulate +this, a device was added to the instrument by means +of which a damper fell on the string when the key was +released, thereby stopping the sound. +</p> + +<p> +We have now to consider the instrumental development +of the Middle Ages. +</p> + +<p> +An instrument of the harpsichord family which has +significance in the development of the instruments of the +Middle Ages is the spinet (from <i>spina</i>, “thorn”; it had +leather points up to 1500), first made by Johannes Spinctus, +Venice, 1500. It was a harpsichord with a <i>square</i> case, +the strings running diagonally instead of lengthwise. +When the spinet was of very small dimensions it was +called a virginal; when it was in the shape of our modern +grand piano, it was, of course, a harpsichord; and when the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page136" id="page136" title="136"></a> +strings and sounding board were arranged perpendicularly, +the instrument was called a clavicitherium. As early as +1500, then, four different instruments were in general +use, the larger ones having a compass of about four +octaves. The connecting link between the harpsichord, +the clavichord, and the piano, was the dulcimer or hackbrett, +which was a tavern instrument. Pantaleon Hebenstreit, +a dancing master and inventor of Leipzig, in 1705 +added an improved hammer action, which was first +applied to keyboard instruments by Cristofori, an instrument +maker at Florence (1711). His instrument was +called <i>forte-piano</i> or <i>pianoforte</i>, because it would strike +loud or soft. +</p> + +<p> +These instruments all descended from the ancient lyre, +the only difference being that instead of causing the +strings to vibrate by means of a plectrum held in the hand, +the plectrum was set in motion by the mechanism of the +<i>claves</i> or keys. The system of fingering employed in +playing the harpsichord, up to 1700, did not make use of +the thumb. J.S. Bach, F. Couperin, and J.P. Rameau +were the pioneers in this matter. The first published +work on piano technique and fingering was that by +C.P.E. Bach (1753). +</p> + +<p> +With the advent of bowed instruments the foundation +was laid for the modern orchestra, of which they are +the natural basis. The question of the antiquity of +the bowed instrument has often been discussed, with the +result that the latter has been definitely classed as essentially +modern, for the reason that it did not become +known in Europe until about the tenth to the twelfth +<a class="pagebreak" name="page137" id="page137" title="137"></a> +centuries. As a matter of fact, the instrument is doubtless +of Person or Hindu origin, and was brought to the West +by the Arabs, who were in Spain from the eighth to the +fifteenth centuries; in fact, most of our stringed instruments, +both the bowed and those of the lyre type, we owe +to the Arabs—the very name of the lute, <i>el oud</i> (“shell” +in Arabic) became <i>liuto</i> in Italian, in German <i>laute</i>, and +in English lute. There were many varieties of these bowed +instruments, and it is thought that the principle arose +from rubbing one instrument with another. The only +other known examples of bowed instruments of primitive +type are (1) the <i>ravanastron</i>, an instrument of the monochord +type, native to India, made to vibrate by a kind +of bow with a string stretched from end to end; (2) the +Welsh <i>chrotta</i> (609 A.D.), a primitive lyre-shaped instrument, +with which, however, the use of the bow seems to +have been a much later invention. Mention should also +be made of the marine trumpet, much in vogue from the +fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries; it consisted of a long, +narrow, resonant box, composed of three boards, over +which was stretched a single string; other unchangeable +strings, struck with the bow, served as drones. Only +the harmonics were played on the marine trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +The principle of procuring the vibrations in stringed +instruments by means of a bow was, of course, applied to +the monochord class of keyed instruments, and was thus +the origin of the hurdy-gurdy, which consisted of a wheel +covered with resined leather and turned by a crank. +</p> + +<p> +The bowed instruments were originally of two types, +the first in the form of the lute or mandolin; the second +<a class="pagebreak" name="page138" id="page138" title="138"></a> +probably derived from the Welsh <i>crwth</i>, consisting of a +flat, long box strung with strings (called fidel from <i>fides</i>, +“string”). The combination of these types, which were +subjected to the most fantastic changes of shape, led +eventually to the modern violin family. +</p> + +<p> +We know that the highest plane of perfection in the +violin was reached in Italy about 1600. The Cremona +makers, Amati, Guarnerius, and Stradivarius, made their +most celebrated instruments between 1600 and 1750. +</p> + +<p> +The violin bow, in its earliest form, was nothing more +than an ordinary bow with a stretched string; Corelli +and Tartini used a bow of the kind. The present shape +of the bow is due to Tourte, a Paris maker, who experimented +in conjunction with Viotti, the celebrated violinist. +</p> + +<p> +By looking at the original lute and the Arabian <i>rebeck</i> +or Welsh <i>crwth</i> (originally Latin <i>chorus</i>), we can see how +the modern violin received its generally rounded shape +from the lute, its flatness from the <i>rebeck</i>, the sides of +the instrument being cut out in order to give the bow +free access to the side strings. The name too, <i>fidula</i> or +<i>vidula</i>, from mediæval Latin <i>fides</i>, “string,” became fiddle +and viola, the smaller viola being called violino, the +larger, violoncello and viola da gamba. +</p> + +<p> +In the Middle Ages, the different species of bowed instrument +numbered from fifteen to twenty, and it was +not until between 1600 and 1700 that the modern forms of +these instruments obtained the ascendancy. +</p> + +<p> +Of the wind instruments it was naturally the flute that +retained its antique form; the only difference between +the modern instrument and the ancient one being that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page139" id="page139" title="139"></a> +the former is blown crosswise, instead of perpendicularly. +Quantz, the celebrated court flute player to Frederick the +Great of Prussia, was the first to publish, in 1750, a so-called +“method” of playing the traversal (crosswise) flute. +</p> + +<p> +With the reed instruments the change in modern times +is more striking. The original form of the reed instruments +was of the double-reed variety. The oldest known mention +of them dates from 650 A.D., when the name +applied is <i>calamus</i> (reed); later the names <i>shalmei</i> (<i>chalumeau</i>, +“straw,” from German <i>halm</i>) and <i>shawm</i> were +used. These instruments were played by means of +a bell-shaped mouthpiece, the double reed being fixed +inside the tube. It was not until toward the end of the +sixteenth century that the bell-shaped mouthpiece was +dispensed with and the reed brought directly to the lips, +thus giving the player greater power of expression. The +oboe is a representative type of the higher pitched double-reed +instruments. In its present shape it is about two +hundred years old. As the deeper toned instruments +were necessarily very long, six to eight and even ten feet, +an assistant had to walk before the performer, holding the +tube on his shoulder. This inconvenience led to bending +the tube back on itself, making it look somewhat like a +bundle of sticks, hence the word <i>faggot</i>; although it is +commonly known in this country by the French name, +<i>bassoon</i>. This manner of arranging the instrument dates +from about the year 1550. The clarinet is an essentially +modern instrument, the single beating reed and cylindrical +tube coming into use about 1700, the invention +of a German named Denner, who lived at Nuremberg. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page140" id="page140" title="140"></a> +All the brass instruments of the Middle Ages seem +to have been very short, therefore high in pitch. We +remember that the Romans had trumpets (chiefly used +in signalling) called <i>buccina</i>, and we may assume that +the whole modern family of brass instruments has +descended from this primitive type. As late as 1500, the +hunting horn consisted of but one loop which passed +over the shoulder and around the body of the player. +A horn of from six to seven feet in length was first +used about 1650; and we know that, owing to the smallness +of the instruments and their consequent high pitch +in those days, many of Bach's scores contain parts absolutely +impracticable for our modern brass instruments. +The division of these instruments into classes, such as +trumpets, horns, trombones, etc., is due to the differences +in shape, which in turn produce tones of different quality. +The large bore of the trombone gives great volume to the +tone, the small bore of the trumpet great brilliancy, the +medium bore of the horn veils the brilliancy on one hand +and lightens the thickness of tone on the other. +</p> + +<p> +The horn, called <i>cor de chasse</i>, was first used in the orchestra +in 1664, in one of Lully's operas, but its technique +(stopped tones and crooks) was only properly understood +about 1750; the present-day valve horn did not come into +general use until within the last half century. Fifty years +before the principle had been applied to the horn the +trumpet had crooks and slides, a mechanism which, in +the trumpet, is still retained in England, pointing to the +fact that the trombone is, after all, nothing but a very +large kind of trumpet. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page141" id="page141" title="141"></a> +XI<br /><br /> +FOLK SONG AND ITS RELATION TO NATIONALISM IN MUSIC</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +order to understand as well as to feel music, we must +reduce it to its primary elements, and these are to be +found in folk song, or, to go further back, in its predecessor, +the chant of the savages. +</p> + +<p> +Folk music may be likened to a twig which has fallen +into a salt mine, to borrow an expression from Taine; +every year adds fresh jewels to the crystals that form +on it until at last the only resemblance to the original +is in the general contour. We know that the nucleus of +melody lies in one note, just as the origin of language +is to be sought for in the word. Therefore folk music +proper must be separated from what may be called barbaric +music, the most primitive type of the latter being +the “one-note” strain from which spring the melodies +of the people. This one-note form passes through many +rhythmical changes before song becomes developed to the +extent of adding several notes to its means of expression. +The next development of savage chanting (which +is the precursor of folk song) may be traced back to its +two elements, one of which was a mere savage howl, and +the other, that raising of the voice under stress of strong +emotion which still constitutes one of our principal means +of expression. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page142" id="page142" title="142"></a> +Thus, in this barbaric music we invariably find three +principles: 1, rhythm; 2, the howl or descending scale of +undefined intervals; and 3, the emotional raising of the +voice. The rhythm, which characterizes the most primitive +form of song or chant, consists of the incessant repetition +of a very small group of rhythmic sounds. This +incessant recurrence of one idea is characteristic of primitive, +weak, or insane natures. The second principle, +which invariably includes the first (pointing to a slightly +more advanced state of development), is met with in many +folk songs of even modern times. The third principle is +one which indicates the transition stage from primitive +or barbaric music to folk music. +</p> + +<p> +To the primitive savage mind, the smallest rhythmic +phrase is a wonderful invention, therefore it is repeated +incessantly. Add to that a certain joy in mere sound, and +we have the howl, which certainly follows the sequence +of nature, for a thunder clap, or the phenomenon of +echo, is its prototype, being a loud explosion followed by +a more or less regular sequence of minor reverberations. +<a name="ft12"></a>When the accent of passion is added to these two principles—will +and nature—we have laid the æsthetic +foundation for all that we call +music.<a class="fn" href="#fn12"> 12 </a> The example of +a loud tone with gradually ascending inflections has only +been found in the most perverted types of humanity; +for instance, an English writer quaintly alludes to the +songs of the Polynesian cannibals as consisting of “gruesomely +suggestive passages of rising quarter-tones sung +<a class="pagebreak" name="page143" id="page143" title="143"></a> +gloatingly before their living captives who are soon to be +devoured.” +</p> + +<p> +Now traces of these three elements are to be found in +every folk song known, and we may even trace their +influence in modern music, the lowest or most primitive +being, as I have said, the “one-note” type, the next what +I have called the “howl” type, the third the highest or +“emotional” type. +</p> + +<p> +Specimens of the first type, chants such as these +<img src="images/figure08.png" width="144" height="55" alt="[Figure 08]" /> +[<a href="midi/figure08.midi">MIDI</a>], +are to be heard in every part of the +globe, the rhythmic figure being necessarily short and +repeated incessantly. +</p> + +<p> +The next step was a tremendous advance, and we find +its influence permeating all music. The most primitive +specimens of this type we find among the Jute Indians +<img src="images/figure09.png" width="292" height="49" alt="[Figure 09]" /> +[<a href="midi/figure09.midi">MIDI</a>], +a mixture of one and two. +The same is to be found in Australia, slightly modified: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure10.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure10.png" width="531" height="50" alt="[Figure 10]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +The Caribs have the same song +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/caribs.png" width="111" height="54" + alt="[G: g'' \ Chromatic g']" />.</span> +We find +it again in Hungary, although in a still more modified +form, thus: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure11.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<a href="images/figure11o.png"><img + src="images/figure11.png" width="531" height="53" alt="[Figure 11]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page144" id="page144" title="144"></a> +And last of all we meet with it in its primitive state in the +folk song used by Bizet in “Carmen.” We can even see +traces of it in the quasi-folk song of the present century: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure12.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure12.png" width="299" height="49" alt="[Figure 12] etc." /> +</p> + +<p> +The third element of folk song shows again a great +advance, for instead of the mere howl of pleasure or pain, +we have a more or less exactly graded expression of +feeling. In speaking of impassioned speech I explained +the relative values of the inflections of the voice, how the +upward skip of the fourth, fifth, and octave indicates the +intensity of the emotion causing the cry. When this element +is brought into music, it gives a vitality not before +possessed, for by this it becomes speech. When in such +music this inflection rhymes with the words, that is to +say, when the speech finds its emotional reflection in the +music, we have reached the highest development of folk +song. In its best state, this is immeasurably superior +to much of our “made” music, only too often false in +rhythm, feeling, and declamation. +</p> + +<p> +Among the different nations, these three characteristics +often become obscured by national idiosyncracies. Much +of the Chinese music, the “Hymn to the Ancestors,” for +instance, seemingly covers a number of notes, whereas, +in fact, it belongs to the one-note type. We find that +their melodies almost invariably return to the same note, +the intervening sounds being more or less merely variations +above and below the pitch of the principal sound. For +example: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page145" id="page145" title="145"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure13.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure13.png" width="531" height="134" alt="[Figure 13]" /> +</p> + +<p> +Hungarian folk music has been much distorted by the +oriental element, as represented by the <i>zingari</i> or gypsies. +The Hungarian type of folk music is one of the highest, +and is extremely severe in its contours, as shown in the +following: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure14.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure14.png" width="273" height="49" alt="[Figure 14]" /> +</p> + +<p> +The gypsy element as copied by Liszt has obscured the +folk melodies by innumerable arabesques and ornaments +of all sorts, often covering even a “one-note” type of +melody until it seems like a complicated design. +</p> + +<p> +This elaboration of detail and the addition of passing +and ornamental notes to every melody is distinctly an +oriental trait, which finds vent not only in music but also +in architecture, designing, carving, etc. It is considered +by many an element of weakness, seeking to cover a +poverty of thought by rich vestments. And yet, to my +mind, nothing can be more misleading. In spite of Sir +Hubert Parry and other writers, I cannot think that the +Moors in Spain, for instance, covered poverty of thought +beneath superficial ingenuity of design. The Alhambra +outdoes in “passage work,” in virtuoso arabesques, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page146" id="page146" title="146"></a> +all that an army of Liszts could do in piano literature; +and yet the Arabs were the saviours of science, and promoted +the greatest learning and depth of thought known +in Europe in their time. As for Liszt, there is such an +astounding wealth of poetry and deep feeling beneath +the somewhat “flashy,” bombastic trick of speech he +inherited, that the true lover of music can no more allow +his feelings to be led astray by such externals than one +would judge a man's mind by the cut of his coat or the +hat he wears. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see the essence of folk song is comprised in +the three elements mentioned, and its æsthetic value may +be determined by the manner in which these elements +are combined and their relative preponderance. +</p> + +<p> +One point must be very distinctly understood, namely, +that what we call harmonization of a melody cannot be +admitted as forming any part of folk song. Folk melodies +are, without exception, homophonous. This being the +case, perhaps my statement that the vital principle of +folk music in its best state has nothing in common with +nationalism (considered in the usual sense of the word), +will be better understood. And this will be the proof +that nationalism, so-called, is merely an extraneous thing +that has no part in pure art. For if we take any melody, +even of the most pronounced national type, and merely +eliminate the characteristic turns, affectations, or mannerisms, +the theme becomes simply music, and retains no +touch of nationality. We may even go further; for if we +retain the characteristic mannerisms of dress, we may +harmonize a folk song in such a manner that it will belie +<a class="pagebreak" name="page147" id="page147" title="147"></a> +its origin; and by means of this powerful factor (an essentially +modern invention) we may even transform a Scotch +song, with all its “snap” and character, into a Chinese +song, or give it an Arabian flavour. This, to be sure, is +possible only to a limited degree; enough, however, to +prove to us the power of harmony; and harmony, as I +have said, has no part in folk song. +</p> + +<p> +To define the <i>rôle</i> of harmony in music is no easy matter. +Just as speech has its shadow languages, gesture and expression; +just as man is a duality of idealism and materialism; +just as music itself is a union of the emotional and +the intellectual, so harmony is the shadow language of melody; +and just as in speech this shadow language overwhelms +the spoken word, so in music harmony controls the +melody. For example: Imagine the words “I will kill you” +being said in a jesting tone of voice and with a pleasant +expression of the face; the import of the words would +be lost in their expression; the mere words would mean +nothing to us in comparison with the expression that +accompanied them. +</p> + +<p> +Take away the harmonic structure upon which Wagner +built his operas and it would be difficult to form a conception +of the marvellous potency of his music. Melody, +therefore, may be classed as the gift of folk song to +music; and harmony is its shadow language. When these +two powers, melody and harmony, supplement each other, +when one completes the thought of the other, then, provided +the thought be a noble one, the effect will be overwhelmingly +convincing, and we have great music. The +contrary results when one contradicts the other, and that +<a class="pagebreak" name="page148" id="page148" title="148"></a> +is only too often the case; for we hear the mildest waltzes +dressed up in tragic and dramatic chords, which, like +Bottom, “roar as gently as any sucking dove.” +</p> + +<p> +In discussing the origin of speech, mention was made +of those shadow languages which accompany all our +spoken words, namely, the languages of expression and +gesture. These were surely the very first auxiliaries of +uttered speech, and in the same way we find that they +constitute the first sign of advance in primitive melody. +Savages utter the same thought over and over again, +evidently groping after that semblance of Nirvana (or +perhaps it may be better described as “hypnotic exaltation”) +which the incessant repetition of that one thought, +accompanied by its vibrating shadow, sound, would naturally +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +It was also stated that the relative antiquity or primitivity +of a melody is invariably to be discovered by its +degree of relationship to the original type, one note, one +rhythm, the emotional, the savage howl, or, in other +words, the high note followed by a gradual descent. To +confirm this theory of the origin of folk song, we need +only look at the aboriginal chants of widely separated +peoples to find that the oldest songs all resemble one +another, despite the fact that they originated in widely +separated localities. +</p> + +<p> +Now the difference between this primitive music and +that which we call folk song is that the latter is characterized +by a feeling for design, in the broadest sense of +the word, entirely lacking in the former. For we find +that although folk song is composed of the same material +<a class="pagebreak" name="page149" id="page149" title="149"></a> +as savage music, the material is arranged coherently into +sentences instead of remaining the mere exclamation of +passion or a nerve exciting reiteration of unchanging +rhythms and vibrations, as is the case in the music of the +savage. +</p> + +<p> +Before proceeding further, I wish to draw the line +which separates savage from folk music very plainly. +</p> + +<p> +We know that the first stage in savage music is that of +one note. Gradually a tone above the original is added +on account of the savage being unable to intone correctly; +through stress of emotion the fifth and octave +come into the chant; the sixth, being the note above +the fifth, is added later, as is the third, the note above +the second. Thus is formed the pentatonic scale as it is +found all over the world, and it is clear, therefore, that +the development of the scale is due to emotional influences. +</p> + +<p> +The development of rhythm may be traced to the +words sung or declaimed, and the development of design +or form to the dance. In the following, from Brazil, +we find a savage chant in almost its primitive state: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure15.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure15.png" width="375" height="29" alt="[Figure 15] etc." /> +</p> + +<p> +The next example, also from Brazil, is somewhat better, +but still formless and unemotional. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure16.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure16.png" width="270" height="29" alt="[Figure 16] etc." /> +</p> + +<p> +Let this be danced to, however, and the change is very +marked, for immediately form, regularity, and design are +noticeable: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure17.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure17.png" width="270" height="29" alt="[Figure 17] etc." /> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page150" id="page150" title="150"></a> +On the other hand, the emotional element marks another +very decided change, namely, by placing more sounds +at the command of the singer, and also by introducing +words, which necessarily invest the song with the rhythm +of language. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the emotional and declamatory elements heighten +the powers of expression by the greater range given to +the voice, and add the poignancy and rhythm of speech +to song. On the other hand, the dance gives regularity +to the rhythmic and emotional sequences. +</p> + +<p> +In the following examples we can see more clearly the +elements of folk song as they exist in savage music: +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4>Three or four note (simple)</h4> + +<p>South America<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure18.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure18.png" width="260" height="33" alt="[Figure 18]" /> +</p> + +<p>Nubia<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure19.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure19.png" width="159" height="30" alt="[Figure 19]" /> +</p> + +<h4>Emotional (simple)</h4> + +<p>Samoa<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure20.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure20.png" width="472" height="52" alt="[Figure 20]" /> +</p> + +<h4>Emotional and Composite</h4> + +<p>Hudson's Bay<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure21.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure21.png" width="264" height="52" alt="[Figure 21]" /> +</p> + +<p>Soudan<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure22.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure22.png" width="303" height="62" alt="[Figure 22]" /> +</p> + +<h4>Howl and Emotion</h4> + +<p> +[<a href="midi/figure23.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<a href="images/figure23o.png"><img + src="images/figure23.png" width="137" height="65" alt="[Figure 23]" /></a> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page151" id="page151" title="151"></a> +Dance. Brazil<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure24.midi">MIDI</a>, +<a href="midi/figure25.midi">MIDI</a>, +<a href="midi/figure26.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure24-6.png" width="531" height="142" + alt="[Figure 24] Simple [Figure 25] or Dance [Figure 26]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The fact that so many nations have the pentatonic or +five-note scale (the Chinese, Basque, Scotch, Hindu, etc.), +would seem to point to a necessary similarity of their +music. This, however, is not the case. In tracing the +differences we shall find that true folk song has but few +marked national traits, it is something which comes from +the heart; whereas nationalism in music is an outward +garment which is a result of certain habits of thought, +a <i>mannerism</i> of language so to speak. If we look at the +music of different nations we find certain characteristics; +divest the music of these same characteristics +and we find that the figure upon which this garment of +nationalism has been placed is much the same the world +over, and that its relationship to the universal language +of savage music is very marked. Carmen's song, divested +of the mixture of triplets and dual rhythms (Spanish or +Moorish) is akin to the “howl.” +</p> + +<p> +Nationalism may be divided into six different classes: +</p> + +<p> +First we have what may be broadly termed “orientalism,” +which includes the Hindu, Moorish, Siamese, and +Gypsy, the latter embracing most of southeastern European +(Roumania, etc.) types. Liszt's “Second Rhapsody,” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page152" id="page152" title="152"></a> +opening section, divested of orientalism or gypsy characteristics, +is merely of the savage three-note type. +</p> + +<p> +Our second division may be termed the style of reiteration, +and is to be found in Russia and northern Europe. +</p> + +<p> +The third consists of the mannerism known as the +“Scotch snap,” and is a rhythmic device which probably +originated in that trick of jumping from one register of +the voice to another, which has always had a fascination +for people of simple natures. The Swiss <i>jodel</i> is the best +illustration of this in a very exaggerated form. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth consists of a seemingly capricious intermixture +of dual and triple rhythm, and is especially +noticeable in Spanish and Portuguese music as well as +in that of their South American descendants. This distinction, +however, may be traced directly back to the +Moors. For in their wonderful designs we continually +see the curved line woven in with the straight, the circle +with the square, the <i>tempus perfectum</i> with the spondee. +This would bring this characteristic directly under the +head of orientalism or ornamental development. Yet +the peculiarity is so marked that it seems to call for +separate consideration. +</p> + +<p> +The fifth type, like the fourth, is open to the objection +that it is merely a phase of the oriental type. It consists +of the incessant use of the augmented second and diminished +third, a distinctively Arabian characteristic, and is +to be found in Egypt, also, strange to say, occasionally +among our own North American Indians. This, however, +is not to be wondered at, considering that we know nothing +of their ancestry. Only now and then on that broad sea +<a class="pagebreak" name="page153" id="page153" title="153"></a> +of mystery do we see a half submerged rock, which gives +rise to all sorts of conjectures; for example, the custom +of the Jutes to wear green robes and use fans in certain +dances, the finding in the heart of America of such an +Arab tune as this: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure27.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure27.png" width="305" height="49" alt="[Figure 27]" /> +</p> + +<p class="cont"> +or such a Russian tune as this: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure28.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/figure28.png" width="421" height="49" alt="[Figure 28]" />.</span> +</p> + +<p> +The last type of nationalism in folk song is almost +a negative quality, its distinguishing mark being mere +simplicity, a simplicity which is affected, or possibly +assimilated, by the writer of such a song; for German +folk song proper is a made thing, springing not from the +people, but from the many composers, both ancient and +modern, who have tried their hands in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +While this of course takes nationalism out of the composition +of German folk song so-called, the latter has +undoubtedly gained immensely by it; for by thus divesting +music of all its national mannerisms, it has left the +thought itself untroubled by quirks and turns and a restricted +musical scale; it has allowed this thought to shine +out in all its own essential beauty, and thus, in this so-called +German folk song, the greatest effects of poignancy +are often reached through absolute simplicity and directness. +</p> + +<p> +Now let us take six folk songs and trace first their +national characteristics, and after that their scheme of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page154" id="page154" title="154"></a> +design, for it is by the latter that the vital principle, so +to speak, of a melody is to be recognized, all else being +merely external, costumes of the different countries in +which they were born. And we shall see that a melody +or thought born among one people will change its costume +when it migrates to another country. +</p> + + +<p class="central">Arab Song<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure29.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure29.png" width="531" height="560" alt="[Figure 29]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central">Scheme<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure29a.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure29a.png" width="531" height="159" alt="[Figure 29a]" /> +</p> + + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page155" id="page155" title="155"></a> +Russia—Reiteration<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure30.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure30.png" width="483" height="135" + alt="[Figure 30] etc." /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure31.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure31.png" width="541" height="49" alt="[Figure 31] etc." /> +</p> + +<p class="central">Red Sarafan<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure32.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure32.png" width="541" height="140" alt="[Figure 32]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central">Scotch<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure33.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure33.png" width="541" height="307" alt="[Figure 33]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page156" id="page156" title="156"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure34.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure34.png" width="541" height="304" alt="[Figure 34]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central">Irish—Emotional in character, +with greater perfection in design<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure35.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<a href="images/figure35o.png"><img src="images/figure35.png" + width="541" height="313" alt="[Figure 35]" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="central">Spanish<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure36.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure36.png" width="541" height="56" alt="[Figure 36]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page157" id="page157" title="157"></a> +Egyptian<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure37.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure37.png" width="541" height="141" + alt="[Figure 37] (Note augmented intervals)" /> +</p> + +<p> +The characteristics of German and English folk songs +may be observed in the familiar airs of these nations. +</p> + +<p> +The epitome of folk song, divested of nationalism, is +shown in the following: +</p> + +<p class="central"> +[<a href="midi/figure38.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure38.png" width="305" height="49" alt="[Figure 38]" /> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft12"> 12 </a></span><a name="fn12"></a> +The antiquity of any melody (or its primitiveness) may be established +according to its rhythmic and melodic or human attributes.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page158" id="page158" title="158"></a> +XII<br /><br /> +THE TROUBADOURS, MINNESINGERS AND MASTERSINGERS</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">Although</span> +wandering minstrels or bards have existed +since the world began, and although the poetry they have +left is often suggestive, the music to which the words +were sung is but little known. +</p> + +<p> +About 700–800 A.D., when all Europe was in a state +of dense ignorance and mental degradation, the Arabs +were the embodiment of culture and science, and the +Arab empire extended at that time over India, Persia, +Arabia, Egypt (including Algeria and Barbary), Portugal, +and the Spanish caliphates, Andalusia, Granada, etc. +The descriptions of the splendour at the courts of the +Eastern caliphs at Bagdad seem almost incredible. +</p> + +<p> +For instance, the Caliph Mahdi is said to have expended +six millions of dinars of gold in a single pilgrimage to +Mecca. His grandson, Almamon, gave in alms, on one +single occasion, two and a half millions of gold pieces, +and the rooms in his palace at Bagdad were hung with +thirty-eight thousand pieces of tapestry, over twelve +thousand of which were of silk embroidered with gold. +The floor carpets were more than twenty thousand in +number, and the Greek ambassador was shown a hundred +lions, each with his keeper, as a sign of the king's royalty, +as well as a wonderful tree of gold and silver, spreading +into eighteen large, leafy branches, on which were many +<a class="pagebreak" name="page159" id="page159" title="159"></a> +birds made of the same precious metals. By some +mechanical means, the birds sang and the leaves trembled. +Naturally such a court, particularly under the reign of +Haroun-al Raschid (the Just), who succeeded Almamon, +would attract the most celebrated of those Arabian minstrels, +such as Zobeir, Ibrahim of Mossoul, and many +others who figure in the “Arabian Nights,” real persons +and celebrated singers of their times. We read +of one of them, Serjab, who, by court jealousy and intrigues, +was forced to leave Bagdad, and found his way +to the Western caliphates, finally reaching Cordova in +Spain, where the Caliph Abdalrahman's court vied with +that of Bagdad in luxury. Concerning this we read in +Gibbon that in his palace of Zehra the audience hall was +incrusted with gold and pearls, and that the caliph was +attended by twelve thousand horsemen whose belts and +scimiters were studded with gold. +</p> + +<p> +We know that the Arabian influence on the European +arts came to us by the way of Spain, and although we can +see traces of it very plainly in the Spanish music of to-day, +the interim of a thousand years has softened its characteristics +very much. On the other hand, the much more +pronounced Arabian characteristics of Hungarian music +are better understood when we recall that the Saracens +were at the gates of Budapesth as late as 1400. That the +European troubadours should have adopted the Moorish +<i>el oud</i> and called it “lute” is therefore but natural. And +in all the earlier songs of the troubadours we shall find +many traces of the same influence; for their <i>albas</i> or <i>aubades</i> +(morning songs) came from the Arabic, as did their +<a class="pagebreak" name="page160" id="page160" title="160"></a> +<i>serenas</i> or serenades (evening songs), <i>planhs</i> (complaints), +and <i>coblas</i> (couplets). The troubadours themselves were +so called from <i>trobar</i>, meaning to invent. +</p> + +<p> +In the works of Fauriel and St. Polaye, and many others, +may be found accounts of the origin of the Provençal +literature, including, of course, a description of the troubadours. +It is generally admitted that Provençal poetry +has no connection with Latin, the origin of this new poetry +being very plausibly ascribed to a gypsy-like class of +people mentioned by the Latin chroniclers of the Middle +Ages as <i>joculares</i> or <i>joculatores</i>. They were called <i>joglars</i> +in Provençal, <i>jouglers</i> or <i>jougleors</i> in French, and our +word “juggler” comes from the same source. What that +source originally was may be inferred from the fact that +they brought many of the Arab forms of dance and +poetry into Christian Europe. For instance, two forms +of Provençal poetry are the counterpart of the Arabian +<i>cosidas</i> or long poem, all on one rhyme; and the <i>maouchahs</i> +or short poem, also rhymed. The <i>saraband</i>, or Saracen +dance, and later the morris dance (<i>Moresco</i> or <i>Fandango</i>) +or Moorish dance, seem to point to the same origin. In +order to make it clearer I will quote an Arabian song from +a manuscript in the British Museum, and place beside it +one by the troubadour Capdeuil. +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page161" id="page161" title="161"></a> +Arabian Melody<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure39.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure39.png" width="541" height="569" alt="[Figure 39]" /> +</p> + +<p class="central"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page162" id="page162" title="162"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure40.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure40.png" width="531" height="165" + alt="Pons de Capdeuil [Figure 40]" /> +</p> + +<p> +The troubadours must not be confounded with the +<i>jougleurs</i> (more commonly written <i>jongleurs</i>). The latter, +wandering, mendicant musicians, ready to play the lute, +sing, dance, or “juggle,” were welcomed as merry-makers +at all rich houses, and it soon became a custom for rich +nobles to have a number of them at their courts. The +troubadour was a very different person, generally a noble +who wrote poems, set them to music, and employed <i>jongleurs</i> +to sing and play them. In the South these songs +were generally of an amorous nature, while in the North +they took the form of <i>chansons de geste</i>, long poems recounting +the feats in the life and battles of some hero, +such as Roland (whose song was chanted by the troops +of William the Conqueror), or Charles Martel. +</p> + +<p> +And so the foundations for many forms of modern +music were laid by the troubadours, for the <i>chanson</i> or +song was always a narrative. If it were an evening song +it was a <i>sera</i> or serenade, or if it were a night song, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page163" id="page163" title="163"></a> +<i>nocturne</i>; a dance, a <i>ballada</i>; a round dance, a <i>rounde</i> or +<i>rondo</i>; a country love song, a <i>pastorella</i>. Even the words +descant and treble go back to their time; for the <i>jongleurs</i>, +singing their masters' songs, would not all follow the +same melody; one of them would seek to embellish it +and sing something quite different that still would fit well +with the original melody, just as nowadays, in small +amateur bands we often hear a flute player adding embellishing +notes to his part. Soon, more than one singer +added to his part, and the new voice was called the triple, +third, or treble voice. This extemporizing on the part +of the <i>jongleurs</i> soon had to be regulated, and the actual +notes written down to avoid confusion. Thus this habit +of singing merged into <i>faux bourdon</i>, which has been +discussed in a former chapter. Apart from these forms +of song, there were some called <i>sirventes</i>—that is “songs +of service,” which were very partisan, and were accompanied +by drums, bells, and pipes, and sometimes by +trumpets. The more warlike of these songs were sung at +tournaments by the <i>jongleurs</i> outside the lists, while their +masters, the troubadours, were doing battle, of which custom +a good description is to be found in Hagen's book on +the minnesingers. +</p> + +<p> +In France the Provençal poetry lasted only until the +middle of the fourteenth century, after the troubadours +had received a crushing blow at the time the Albigenses +were extirpated in the thirteenth century. +</p> + +<p> +In one city alone (that of Beziers), between 30,000 and +40,000 people were killed for heresy against the Pope. +The motto of the Pope's representatives was “God will +<a class="pagebreak" name="page164" id="page164" title="164"></a> +know His Own,” and Catholics as well as Albigenses (as +the sect was called) were massacred indiscriminately. +That this heresy against the Pope was vastly aided by the +troubadours, is hardly open to doubt. Such was their +power that the rebellious, antipapal <i>sirventes</i> of the +troubadours (which were sung by their troops of <i>jongleurs</i> +in every market place) could be suppressed only after the +cities of Provence were almost entirely annihilated and +the population destroyed by the massacre, burning alive, +and the Inquisition. +</p> + +<p> +A review of the poems of Bertran de Born, Bernart de +Ventadour, Thibaut, or others is hardly in place here. +Therefore we will pass to Germany, where the spirit of the +troubadours was assimilated in a peculiarly Germanic +fashion by the minnesingers and the mastersingers. +</p> + +<p> +In Germany, the troubadours became minnesingers, or +singers of love songs, and as early as the middle of the +twelfth century the minnesingers were already a powerful +factor in the life of the epoch, counting among their +number many great nobles and kings. The German +minnesingers differed from the French troubadours in +that they themselves accompanied their songs on the viol, +instead of employing <i>jongleurs</i>. Their poems, written in +the Swabian dialect, then the court language of Germany, +were characterized by greater pathos and purity than +those of the troubadours, and their longer poems, corresponding +to the <i>chansons de geste</i> of the north of France, +were also superior to the latter in point of dignity +and strength. From the French we have the “Song of +Roland” (which William the Conqueror's troops sang in +<a class="pagebreak" name="page165" id="page165" title="165"></a> +their invasion of England); from the Germans the “Nibelungen +Song,” besides Wolfram von Eschenbach's “Parzival” +and Gottfried von Strasburg's “Tristan.” In +contradistinction to the poetry of the troubadours, that of +the minnesingers was characterized by an undercurrent +of sadness which seems to be peculiar to the Germanic +race. The songs are full of nature and the eternal strife +between Winter and Summer and their prototypes Death +and Life (recalling the ancient myths of Maneros, Bacchus, +Astoreth, Bel, etc.). +</p> + +<p> +After the death of Konrad IV, the last Swabian emperor +of the House of Hohenstaufen, minnesinging in Germany +declined, and was succeeded by the movement represented +by the <i>meister</i> or mastersingers. During the fourteenth +and fifteenth centuries, when Germany was broken up +into countless small duchies and kingdoms, many of the +German nobles became mere robbers and took part in the +innumerable little wars which kept the nation in a state +of ferment. Thus they had neither time nor inclination +to occupy themselves with such pursuits as poetry or +music. In the meanwhile, however, the incessant warfare +and brigandage that prevailed in the country tended to +drive the population to the cities for protection. The +latter grew in size, and little by little the tradespeople +began to take up the arts of poetry and music which had +been discarded by the nobles. +</p> + +<p> +Following their custom in respect to their trades, they +formed the art companies into guilds, the rules for admittance +to which were very strict. The rank of each +member was determined by his skill in applying the rules +<a class="pagebreak" name="page166" id="page166" title="166"></a> +of the “Tabulatur,” as it was called. There were five +grades of membership: the lowest was that of mere admittance +to the guild; the next carried with it the title +of scholar; the third the friend of the school; after that +came the singer, the poet; and last of all the mastersinger, +to attain which distinction the aspirant must have invented +a new style of melody or rhyme. The details of +the contest we all know from Wagner's comedy; in a +number of cases Wagner even made use of the sentences +and words found in the rules of the mastersingers. Although +the mastersingers retained their guild privileges +in different parts of Germany almost up to the middle +of the present century, the movement was strongest in +Bavaria, with Nuremberg as its centre. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we see that the mastersingers and the minnesingers +were two very different classes of men. The +mastersingers are mainly valuable for having given +Wagner a pretext for his wonderful music. Hans Sachs +was perhaps the only one of the mastersingers whose +melodies show anything but the flattest mediocrity. +The minnesingers and their immediate predecessors and +successors, on the other hand, furnished thought for a +great part of our modern art. To put it in a broad +manner, it may be said that much of our modern poetry +owes more than is generally conceded to the German +mediæval romance as represented in the works of Wolfram +von Eschenbach, Gottfried of Strasburg, and the unknown +compilers of the “Nibelungenlied” and “Gutrune.” +Music owes more to the troubadours, for, from what +we know of the melodies of the minnesingers, they cannot +<a class="pagebreak" name="page167" id="page167" title="167"></a> +compare in expressiveness with those of their French +<i>confrères</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In closing this consideration of the minnesingers, I will +quote some of their verses and melodies, giving short +accounts of the authors. +</p> + +<p> +The best known of the minnesingers were Walther von +der Vogelweide, Heinrich Frauenlob, Tannhäuser, Nithart, +Toggenburg, etc. We first hear of Walther von der +Vogelweide in 1200, as a poet attached to the court of +Philip of Hohenstaufen, the German Kaiser, and shortly +after to that of his successors Otto and Friedrich. He +accompanied Kaiser Friedrich to the Crusade of 1228, +and saw him crowned in Jerusalem. He died in Würzburg, +Bavaria. In accordance with his dying request, +food and drink for the birds were placed on his tomb +every day; the four holes carved for that purpose being +still visible. The pictures in Hagen's work on the mastersingers +were collected in the fifteenth century by +Manasses of Zorich, and have served as the basis for all +subsequent works on the subject. The picture of Von der +Vogelweide (page 21) shows him sitting in an attitude +of meditation, on a green hillock, beside him his sword +and his coat of arms (a caged bird on one side and his +helmet on the other), and in his hand a roll of manuscript. +One of his shorter poems begins: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Neath the lindens</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the meadow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Seek I flowers sweet;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clover fragrant,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tender grasses,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bend beneath my feet.</span> +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page168" id="page168" title="168"></a> +<span class="i0">See, the gloaming,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Softly sinking,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Covers hill and dale.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hush! my lover—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tandaradei!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet sings the nightingale.</span> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +We all are familiar with Tannhäuser (plate 35), through +Wagner's opera; therefore it is unnecessary to say more +than that he was a real person, a minnesinger, and that the +singing tournament at the Wartburg (the castle of the +Thüringen family) really took place in 1206–07. This +tournament, which Wagner introduces into his “Tannhäuser,” +was a trial of knightly strength, poetry, and music, +between the courts of Babenhausen and Thüringen, and +was held in Erfurt. Among the knights who competed +were Klingsor of Hungary, a descendant of the Klingsor +who figures in the “Parzival” legend, Tannhäuser, +Walther von Eschenbach, Walther von der Vogelweide, +and many others. Tannhäuser was a follower, or perhaps +better, the successor of Walther von der Vogelweide, +like him, a crusader, and lived in the first half of the +thirteenth century. Toggenburg and Frauenlob were +both celebrated minnesingers, the former (plate 7) being +the subject of many strange legends. The simplicity and +melodious charm of his verses seem to contradict the +savage brutality ascribed to him in the stories of his life. +</p> + +<p> +Frauenlob (plate 44), as Heinrich von Meissen was +called, represents the minnesingers at the height of their +development. He died about 1320, and his works, as his +nickname suggests, were imbued with <i>das ewig weibliche</i> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page169" id="page169" title="169"></a> +in its best sense. He was called the Magister of the +seven free arts, and was given the position of Canon of +the Cathedral of Mayence, with the title of Doctor of +Divinity. He also wrote a paraphrase on the “Song +of Solomon,” turning it into a rhapsodical eulogy of the +Virgin Mary, carrying versification to what seemed then +its utmost limits. The picture shows him playing and +singing to some prince, the carpet on which he stands +being lifted by the attendants. It makes plain the difference +between the minnesingers and the troubadours. +In this picture the singer is seen to be accompanying +himself before the king, whereas in plate 28 we see two +troubadours in the lists, their <i>jongleurs</i> playing or singing +the songs of their masters, while the latter engage each +other in battle. In order to give one more example we +will take the pictures of Conrad, the son of Conrad IV, +and the last of the Hohenstaufens (plate 11). He was born +about 1250, and was beheaded in the market place at +Naples in 1268. The story of Konradin, as he was called, +is familiar; how he lived with his mother at the castle of +her brother, Ludwig of Bavaria, how he was induced to +join in a rebellion of the two Sicilies (to the crown of +which he was heir) against France, his defeat and execution +by the Duke of Anjou, himself a well-known troubadour. +The text accompanying his picture in Hagen's +work describes him as having black eyes and blonde +hair, and wearing a long green dress with a golden collar. +His gray hunting horse is covered with a crimson mantle, +has a golden saddle and bit, and scarlet reins. Konradin +wears white hunting gloves and a three-cornered king's +<a class="pagebreak" name="page170" id="page170" title="170"></a> +crown. Above the picture are the arms of the kingdom +of Jerusalem (a golden crown in silver ground), to which +he was heir through his grandmother, Iolanthe. One of +his songs runs as follows, and it may be accepted as +a fair specimen of the style of lyric written by the +minnesingers: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lovely flowers and verdure sweet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That gentle May doth slip</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have been imprisoned cruelly</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In Winter's iron grip;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But May smiles o'er the green clad fields</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That seemed anon so sad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the world is glad.</span> +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No joy to me the Summer brings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With all its bright long days.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My thoughts are of a maiden fair</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who mocks my pleading gaze;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She passes me in haughty mood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Denies me aught but scorn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And makes my life forlorn.</span> +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet should I turn my love from her,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For aye my love were gone.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd gladly die could I forget</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The love that haunts my song.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So, lonely, joyless, live I on,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For love my prayer denies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, childlike, mocks my sighs.</span> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The music of these minnesingers existing in manuscript +has been but little heeded, and only lately has an attempt +been made to classify and translate it into modern notation. +The result so far attained has been unsatisfactory, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page171" id="page171" title="171"></a> +for the rhythms are all given as spondaic. This seems +a very improbable solution of the mystery that must +inevitably enshroud the musical notation of the eleventh, +twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. +</p> + +<p> +Nithart (plate 36), by whom a number of melodies or +“tones” are given in Hagen's book (page 845), has been +dubbed the second “Till Eulenspiegel.” He was a Bavarian, +and lived about 1230, at the court of Frederick of +Austria. He was eminently the poet and singer of the +peasants, with whom, after the manner of Eulenspiegel, he +had many quarrels, one of which is evidently the subject +of the picture. His music, or melodies, and the verses +which went with them, form the most complete authentic +collection of mediæval music known. In considering the +<i>minnelieder</i> of the Germans it is very interesting to compare +them with the songs of the troubadours, and to +note how in the latter the Arab influence has increased +the number of curved lines, or arabesques, whereas the +German songs may be likened to straight lines, a characteristic +which we know is a peculiarity of their folk +song. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4>PASTORELLA BY THIBAUT II, KING OF NAVARRE, 1254.</h4> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page172" id="page172" title="172"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure41.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure41.png" width="542" height="790" + alt="[Figure 41: L'Autrier par la matinée + Entre sen bos et un Vergier + Une pastore ai trouneé + chantant pour soi en voisier.]" /> +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page173" id="page173" title="173"></a> +[<a href="midi/figure42.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure42.png" width="531" height="157" + alt="Example from NITHART [Figure 42]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +In speaking of the straight lines of the melodies of the +minnesingers and in comparing them with the tinge of +orientalism to be found in those of the troubadours, it was +said that music owes more to the latter than to the former, +and this is true. If we admit that the straight line +of Grecian architecture is perfect, so must we also admit +that mankind is imperfect. We are living beings, and as +such are swayed to a great extent by our emotions. To +the straight line of purity in art the tinge of orientalism, +the curved line of emotion, brings the flush of life, and the +result is something which we can <i>feel</i> as well as worship +from afar. Music is a language, and to mankind it serves +as a medium for saying something which cannot be put +into mere words. Therefore, it must contain the human +element of mere sensuousness in order to be intelligible. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page174" id="page174" title="174"></a> +This is why the music of the troubadours, although not +so pure in style as that of the minnesingers, has been of +the greatest value in the development of our art. This +orientalism, however, must not mask the straight line; +it must be the means of lending more force, tenderness, +or what not, to the figure. It must be what the poem is +to the picture, the perfume to the flower; it must help +to illustrate the thing itself. The moment we find this +orientalism (and I am using the word in its broadest +sense) covering, and thus distorting the straight line of +pure music, then we have national music so-called, a +music which derives its name and fame from the clothes +it wears and not from that strange language of the soul, +the “why” of which no man has ever discovered. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page175" id="page175" title="175"></a> +XIII<br /><br /> +EARLY INSTRUMENTAL FORMS</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">Referring</span> +to some newspaper reports which he knew to +be without foundation, Bismarck once said, “Newspapers +are simply a union of printer's ink and paper.” Omitting +the implied slur we might say the same of printed music +and printed criticism; therefore, in considering printed +music we must, first of all, remember that it is the letter +of the law which kills. We must look deeper, and be able +to translate sounds back into the emotions which caused +them. There is no right or wrong way to give utterance +to music. There is but <i>one</i> way, namely, through the +living, vital expression of the content of the music; all +else is not music but mere pleasure for the ear, a thing of +the senses. For the time being we must see through +the composer's eyes and hear through his ears. In other +words, we must think in his language. The process of +creating music is often, to a great extent, beyond the control +of the composer, just as is the case with the novelist +and his characters. The language through which musical +thought is expressed, however, is a different thing, and it +is this process of developing musical speech until it has +become capable of saying for us that which, in our spoken +language, must ever remain unsaid, that I shall try to make +clear in our consideration of form in music. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page176" id="page176" title="176"></a> +Until the very end of the fifteenth century, music, so +far as we know, had no language of its own, that is to say, +it was not recognized as a medium for expressing thought +or emotion. Josquin des Prés (born at Conde in the north +of France in 1450, died 1521) was the first to attempt +the expression of thought in sound. Luther, in rebelling +against Rome, also overturned the music of the church in +Germany. He incorporated many folk songs into the +music of the Protestant church and discarded the old +Gregorian chant (which was vague in rhythm, or, rather, +wholly without rhythm), calling it asinine braying. +</p> + +<p> +While Luther was paving the way for Bach by encouraging +church music to be something more than merely the +singing of certain melodies according to prescribed rules, +in Italy (at the time of his death in 1546) the Council of +Trent was already trying to decide upon a style of music +proper for the church. <a name="ft13"></a>The matter was definitely settled +in 1562 or 1563 by the adoption of Palestrina's +style.<a class="fn" href="#fn13"> 13 </a> +Thus, while in Germany ecclesiastical music was being +broadened and an opening offered for the development +of the dramatic and emotional side of music, in Italy, on +the contrary, the emotional style of music was being +neglected and an absolutely serene style of what may be +called “impersonal” music encouraged. Italy, however, +soon had opera on which to fall back, and thus music +in both countries developed rapidly, although on different +lines. +</p> + +<p> +In England, the budding school of English art, as +exemplified by Purcell, was soon overwhelmed by the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page177" id="page177" title="177"></a> +influence of Händel and the all-pervading school of Italian +opera, which he brought with him. +</p> + +<p> +In France, up to 1655, when Cardinal Mazarin sent to +Italy for an opera troupe with the purpose of entertaining +Anne of Austria (the widow of Louis XIII), there was +practically no recognized music except that imported from +other countries. Under Louis XI (d. 1483) Ockeghem, the +Netherland contrapuntist, was the chief musician of the +land. +</p> + +<p> +The French pantomimes or masques, as they were +sometimes called, can hardly be said to have represented +a valuable gain to art, although their prevalence in France +points directly to their having been the direct descendants +of the old pantomime on one hand, and on the other, the +direct ancestor of the French opera. For we read that +already in 1581 (twenty years before Caccini's “Euridice” +at Florence), a ballet entitled “Circe” was given +on the occasion of the marriage of Margaret of Lorraine, +the stepsister of Henry III. The music to it was written +by Beaulieu and Salmon, two court musicians. There +were ten bands of music in the cupola of the ballroom +where the ballet was given. These bands included hautbois, +cornets, trombones, violas de gamba, flutes, harps, +lutes, flageolets. Besides all this, ten violin players in +costume entered the scene in the first act, five from each +side. Then a troupe of Tritons came swimming in, playing +lutes, harps, flutes, one even having a kind of 'cello. When +Jupiter makes his appearance, he is accompanied by forty +musicians. The festivities on this occasion are said to +have cost over five million francs. Musically, the ballet +<a class="pagebreak" name="page178" id="page178" title="178"></a> +was no advance towards expressiveness in art. An air +which accompanied “Circe's” entrance, may be cited as +being the original of the well-known “Amaryllis,” which is +generally called <i>Air Louis XV</i>. Baltazarini calls it <i>un son +fort gai, nomme la clochette</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Music remained inert in France until 1650, when the +Italians gained an ascendancy, which they retained until +1732, when Rameau's first opera “Hyppolyte et Aricie” +was given in Paris. Rameau had already commenced +his career by gaining great success as a harpsichord player +and instrumental composer, mostly for the harpsichord. +By his time, however, music, that is to say, secular music, +was already becoming a new art, and the French merely +improved upon what already existed. +</p> + +<p> +Now this new art was first particularly evident in the +dances of these different peoples. These dances gave the +music <i>form</i>, and held it down to certain prescribed rhythms +and duration. Little by little the emotions, the natural +expression of which is music, could no longer be restricted +to these dance forms and rhythms; and gradually the latter +were modified by each daring innovator in turn. This +“daring” of human beings, in breaking through the +trammels of the dance in order to express what lay within +their souls in the language that properly belonged to it, +would seem almost ludicrous to us, were we not even +to-day trying to get up courage to do the same thing. +The modifications of dance forms led up to our sonata, +symphony, and symphonic poem, as I hope to show. +Opera was a thing apart, and, being untrammelled either +by dance rhythms or church laws, developed gradually and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page179" id="page179" title="179"></a> +normally. It cannot, however, be said to have developed +side by side with purely instrumental music, for the latter +is only just beginning to emancipate itself from its dance +clothes and to come forth as a language for the expression +of all that is divine in man. First we will consider the +forms and rhythms of these dances, then the awakening +of the idea of design in music, and its effect in modifying +these forms and laying the foundation for the sonata of +the nineteenth century. +</p> + +<p> +The following shows the structure of the different dance +forms up to about 1750. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4>OLD DANCE FORMS (1650–1750).</h4> + +<p> +<img src="images/dance_forms1.png" width="506" height="195" + alt="[ :Motive-|-Motive--|-Motive-----|--|-Motive---|--|-Motive----|---] + [2/4: 4 8 8 | 8. 16 4 | 8 8 8 8 | 4 4 | 4 8 8 | 4 4 | 8. 16 8 8 | 2 ] + [ :------Phrase-----|----Phrase-----|---Phrase----|----Phrase-----] + [A phrase may be three or four measures, and sections may be unequal] + [ :-------------Section-------------|-----------Section-----------] + [ :------------------------------Period---------------------------] + This period might be repeated or extended to sixteen measures + and still remain a period." /> +<br /> +<img src="images/dance_forms2.png" width="451" height="219" + alt="1. |--I P.-|--II P.-| (II is generally longer than I) + 2. |---I---|---II---|--I--| + 3. |---I---|---II---|-III-| (generally III resembles I) + 4. |---I---|---II---|-III-|--I--|--II-| or |--I--|--II--|-III-|--I--| + 5. |---I---|---II---|-III-|--IV-| + 6. |---I---|---II---|-III-|--IV-|--I--|--II-| + 7. |---I---|---II---|--I--|-III-|--IV-|-III-|--I--|--II--|--I--|" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +In all these forms each period may be repeated. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page180" id="page180" title="180"></a> +Often the first, third, and fourth periods are repeated, +leaving the second period as it is. This happens especially +when the second period is longer than the first. In Nos. +2, 4, 6, 7, a few bars are often added at <i>Fine</i> as a coda. +</p> + +<h4>ANALYSIS OF OLD DANCES</h4> + +<p> +1. <span class="sc">Sarabande</span>.—<img src="images/time_32.png" + width="9" height="25" alt="[3/2]" /> +<img src="images/time_34.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +lento. Rhythm +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_sarabande.png" width="193" height="36" + alt="[3/2: 2 ^2. 4 | 2 2]" />.</span> +Form 1, sometimes Form 2. This is of Spanish +origin (<i>Saracen</i> dance), and is generally accompanied by +variations called <i>partita</i> or doubles. +</p> + +<p> +2. <span class="sc">Musette</span> +(<i>cornemusa</i> or bagpipe).—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +<img src="images/time_24.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" /> +allegretto. +Form 1. Always written over or under a pedal note, +which is generally sustained to the end. It generally +forms the second part (not period) to the gavotte. +</p> + +<p> +3. <span class="sc">Gavotte</span>.—<img src="images/time_44.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" /> +allegro moderato. +Rhythm +<img src="images/d_gavotte1.png" width="189" height="26" + alt="[4/4: 4 4 | 4 8 8 4 4]" /> +or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_gavotte2.png" width="170" height="26" + alt="[4 8 8 | 4 4 4 4]" />.</span> +Always commences on the third beat. Form 3 or 5. +When accompanied by a musette, the gavotte is always +repeated. +</p> + +<p> +4. <span class="sc">Bourree</span>.—<img src="images/time_c2.png" + width="11" height="18" alt="[C/2]" /> +allegro. Rhythm +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_bourree.png" width="166" height="26" + alt="[C/2: 8 8 | 4 4 4 8 8]" />.</span> +Form 3 or 5. Generally faster than the gavotte, and +commences on the fourth beat. +</p> + +<p> +5. <span class="sc">Rigaudon</span>.—Similar to the bourrée, but slower. +</p> + +<p> +6. <span class="sc">Loure</span>.—Similar to the bourrée, but slower. (In +French the verb <i>lourer</i> means “to hold,” which may have +been a characteristic of the <i>loure</i> bass). +</p> + +<p> +7. <span class="sc">Tambourin</span>.—<img src="images/time_c2.png" + width="11" height="18" alt="[C/2]" /> +allegro. In form and rhythm like +the gavotte, but faster. Usually founded on a rhythmic +pedal note imitating a tambourine. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page181" id="page181" title="181"></a> +8. <span class="sc">Corrente</span>, +<span class="sc">Courante</span>.—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +allegretto. +Rhythm +<img src="images/d_courante1.png" width="188" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 8 8 8 | 8 8 8 8 8 8]" /> +or +<img src="images/d_courante2.png" width="144" height="27" + alt="[3/4: 8 | 8 8 8 8 8 8]" /> +(does not usually commence on the beat). Form 1, +sometimes Form 2. The rhythm is usually uniform, a +kind of perpetual motion, though not in one voice. +</p> + +<p> +9. <span class="sc">Minuet</span>.—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +generally a little slower than moderato, +although in later minuets the tempo became allegretto. +Rhythm, generally, +<img src="images/d_minuet.png" width="231" height="33" + alt="[3/4: >(4 | 4) 4 4 | 4 8 8 8 8]" /> etc. +Old +minuets often began on the first beat. Form 4; the +third and fourth periods being generally in a different +mode from the first and second periods, and called Trio or +Minuet 2. Minuets exist also without the Trio, and are +in Form 1 or 2. +</p> + +<p> +10. <span class="sc">Chaconne</span>.—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +moderato. Form undecided; has +sometimes even only one period, sometimes three or two. +It is generally accompanied by doubles or variations, and +is invariably written on a ground bass or <i>basso ostinato</i>. +The rhythm is often syncopated. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Passacaille</span>, +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" />,</span> +resembles a chaconne but is more +stately. +</p> + +<p> +11. <span class="sc">Waltz</span> +(old German).—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +andante moderato. +Generally Form 6. Rhythm +<img src="images/d_waltz1.png" width="203" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 4. 8 8. 16 | 8 8 4 8 8]" /> +approximately. +</p> + +<p> +12. <span class="sc">March</span>.—<img src="images/time_44.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" /> +allegro moderato. +Rhythm +<img src="images/d_march1.png" width="261" height="37" + alt="[4/4: 8. 16 | 4 8. 16 4 4 | 2. 3(8 8 8)]" /> etc., +or +<img src="images/d_march2.png" width="150" height="26" + alt="[4 | 4 8. 16 4 4]" /> etc. +Form 6. Generally all the periods are +repeated and consist of eight measures each; third and +fourth periods change the key and rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page182" id="page182" title="182"></a> +13. <span class="sc">Allemande</span>.—<img src="images/time_44.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" /> +moderato. Rhythm generally +uniform sixteenth notes. Form 1. +</p> + +<p> +14. <span class="sc">Passepied</span>.—Quick minuet. +</p> + +<p> +15. <span class="sc">Pavane</span>, <span class="sc">Padvana</span>, +or <span class="sc">Pavo</span> (peacock).—<img src="images/time_44.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[4/4]" /> +andante +moderato. Rhythm +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_pavane.png" width="236" height="26" + alt="[4/4: 4 8. 16 4. 8 | 8 8 8 8 2]" />.</span> +Form 2 or 6. Sometimes <span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_24.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" />;</span> +third and fourth periods in +different keys. +</p> + +<p> +16. <span class="sc">Gigue</span>.—<img src="images/time_24.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" /> +<img src="images/time_68.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[6/8]" /> +<img src="images/time_34.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +<img src="images/time_38.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[3/8]" /> +<img src="images/time_98.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[9/8]" /> +<img src="images/time_128.png" width="17" height="25" alt="[12/8]" /> +presto. Rhythm generally +uniform eighth notes. Forms 1 and 2. +</p> + +<p> +17. <span class="sc">Polonaise</span>.—<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" />.</span> +Rhythm <img src="images/d_polonaise1.png" width="134" height="27" + alt="[3/4: 8 16 16 8 16 16 4]" /> or +<img src="images/d_polonaise2.png" width="118" height="27" + alt="[16 16 8 16 16 8 4]" /> allegro. Form 1, generally with short coda. +</p> + +<h4>MODERN FORMS (1800).</h4> + +<p> +1. <span class="sc">Mazurka</span>.—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +allegretto. Form 6. +Rhythm <span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_mazurka.png" width="144" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 4 | 8. 16 4 4]" />.</span> +</p> + +<p> +2. <span class="sc">Polonaise</span> +(also <span class="sc">Polacca</span>).—<img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" /> +allegro maestoso. +Rhythm <img src="images/d_polacca1.png" width="147" height="26" + alt="[3/4: 8. 16 8. 16 16 16 16 16]" /> or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_polacca2.png" width="95" height="27" + alt="[8 4 16 16 8 8]" />.</span> The +bass is generally <span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_polacca3.png" width="115" height="27" + alt="[8 16 16 8 8 8 8]" />.</span> Form 7. +</p> + +<p> +3. <span class="sc">Bolero</span> (<span class="sc">Cachucha</span>) +(Spanish).—Like the polonaise +but livelier, and generally containing counter-rhythms in +triplets. +</p> + +<p> +4. <span class="sc">Habanera</span>.—<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_24.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" />.</span> +Rhythm +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_habanera.png" width="330" height="37" + alt="[2/4: 8 8 16 8 16 | 8 8 16 8 16 | 8 8 3(8 8 8) | + 8 8 4]" />.</span> +The characteristic element is the +mixture of triplets and eighth notes. Time, andante. +Form undecided, generally No. 1. Very often repeated +with slight changes. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page183" id="page183" title="183"></a> +5. <span class="sc">Czardas</span> +(Hungarian).—First part <img src="images/time_c2.png" + width="11" height="18" alt="[C/2]" /> +(<i>lassan</i>, <i>lento</i>); +second part <img src="images/time_24.png" width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" /> +(<i>friska</i>, <i>presto</i> and <i>prestissimo</i>). For +form and rhythm see Liszt's rhapsodies, Nos. 2, 4, and 6. +</p> + +<p> +6. <span class="sc">Tarantella</span>.—Rhythm +<img src="images/d_tarantella1.png" width="223" height="26" + alt="[6/8: 8 8 8 8 8 8 | 8 8 8 8 8 8]" /> +or <span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_tarantella2.png" width="202" height="26" + alt="[8 8 8 8 8 8 | 4 8 4 8]" />.</span> Time, molto allegro to prestissimo. +Forms 4 and 6, sometimes 7. In the Trio the +movement is often quieter although not necessarily +slower. It almost invariably has a Coda. The Finale +is usually prestissimo. +</p> + +<p> +7. <span class="sc">Saltarello</span>.—Similar to the tarantella, with the +exception of having more jumps (<i>salti</i>). +</p> + +<p> +8. <span class="sc">Polka</span> +(about 1840).—<img src="images/time_24.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" /> +allegretto. +Rhythm <span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_polka.png" width="159" height="26" + alt="[2/4: 8 8 4 | 8 16 16 4]" />.</span> Form 6. Accent is on the +second beat. Cuban dances (sometimes called habaneros) +are often in polka form and rhythm, with the one exception +of the triplets peculiar to almost all Spanish music +<img src="images/d_cuban.png" width="333" height="37" + alt="[2/4: 8 8 >4 | 8 8 >4 | 16 8 16 >8 8 | + 16 8 16 3(16 16 16) 8]" /> +</p> + +<p> +9. <span class="sc">Waltz</span>.—<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_34.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[3/4]" />.</span> +Rhythm (bass) <span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_waltz2.png" width="181" height="33" + alt="[3/4: >4 4 4 | >4 4 4]" />.</span> +Faster than the old waltz. Form 2 with a coda. Modern +waltzes are often written in sets, or many different waltzes +joined together by short modulations or codas, preceded +by an introduction, generally in one period, <i>lento</i>, and +ending with a brilliant coda containing reminiscences of +the principal themes. +</p> + +<p> +10. <span class="sc">Galop</span>.—<span class="nobr"><img src="images/time_24.png" + width="10" height="25" alt="[2/4]" />.</span> +Rhythm <img src="images/d_galop1.png" width="184" height="26" + alt="[2/4: 16 16 16 16 8 8 | 8 8 8 8]" /> or +<span class="nobr"><img src="images/d_galop2.png" width="173" height="26" + alt="[16 16 8 8 8 | 16 16 8 16 16 8]" />.</span> Form 6. Time, presto. +</p> + +<p> +11. <span class="sc">March</span>.—Same as the old march, but modified +in character and movement according to its title—funeral +<a class="pagebreak" name="page184" id="page184" title="184"></a> +march, military march, cortege, festival march, etc. In +funeral marches, the third and fourth periods are generally +in major. +</p> + +<p> +The modernizing of dance forms has been undertaken +by almost every writer from Scarlatti (d. 1757) down to our +day. Scarlatti joined sections together with isolated +measures, repeated sections and phrases before completing +the period, and added short codas to periods indiscriminately. +Since his time, everyone has added to or curtailed +the accepted forms by putting two forms together; hence +the fantaisie-mazurka, etc. Wagner represents the culminating +point of the modern tendency to disregard +forms which were interpreted differently by every composer, +and which had their origin in dances. +</p> + +<p> +The attempt to emancipate music from the dance commenced +very early; in fact, most of the earliest secular +music we know already shows the tendency towards +programme music, for, from an emotional standpoint, +secular music began at the very bottom of the ladder. +It was made to express <i>things</i> at first, just as in learning +any new language we naturally first acquire a vocabulary +of nouns to express things we see, such as table, +chair, etc., in the same way that in <i>written</i> language the +symbols first take the shape of animals or other things +they are meant to represent. This same characteristic +naturally showed itself in music before the words for +<i>emotion</i> came, the common, everyday nouns were sought +for in this new language. The madrigals of Weelkes +and their word painting show this, and the same occur +in instrumental music, as in Byrd's “Carman's Whistle,” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page185" id="page185" title="185"></a> +one of the earliest English instrumental works contemporaneous +to the madrigals of Morley and others. +In France, many of the earliest clavichord pieces were of +the programme type, and even in Germany, where instrumental +music ran practically in the same groove with +church music, the same tendency showed itself. +</p> + +<p> +I have given the forms of most of the old dances, and +also the elements of melodic structure (motive, phrase, +etc.). I must, however, add the caution that this material +is to be accepted in a general way, and as representing +the rhythms and forms most frequently used. A French +courante differed from the Italian, and certain dances were +taken at different <i>tempi</i> in different countries. Poor, or +at least careless construction, is often the cause of much +confusion. Scarlatti, for instance, is especially loose in +melodic structure. +</p> + +<p> +It was only with Beethoven that the art of musical +design showed anything like complete comprehension by +the composer. Until then, with occasional almost haphazard +successes, the art of pushing a thought to its logical +conclusion was seemingly unknown. An emotional passage +now and then would often betray deep feeling, but +the thought would almost invariably be lost in the telling, +for the simple reason that the musical sentences were put +together almost at random, mere stress of momentary +emotion being seemingly the only guiding influence. Bach +stands alone; his sense of design was inherent, but, owing +to the contrapuntal tendency of his time, his feeling for +<i>melodic</i> design is often overshadowed, and even rendered +impossible by the complex web of his music. With a +<a class="pagebreak" name="page186" id="page186" title="186"></a> +number of melodies sounding together, their individual +emotional development becomes necessarily difficult to +emphasize. +</p> + +<p> +Bach's art has something akin to that of Palestrina. +They both stand alone in the history of the world, but +the latter belongs to the Middle Ages. He is the direct +descendant of Ambrose, Gregory, Notker, Tutilo, etc., +the crowning monument of the Roman Church in music, +and represents what may be termed unemotional music. +His art was untouched by the strange, suggestive colours +of modern harmony; it was pure, unemotional, and serene. +One instinctively thinks of Bach, on the other hand, as a +kind of musical reflection of Protestantism. His was not +a secluded art which lifted its head high above the multitude; +it was rather the palpable outpouring of a great heart. +Bach also represents all the pent-up feeling which until +then had longed in vain for utterance, and had there been +any canvas for him to paint on (to use a poor simile), the +result would have been still more marvellous. As it +was, the material at his disposal was a poor set of dance +forms, with the one exception of the fugue, the involved +utterance of which precluded spontaneity and confined +emotional design to very restricted limits. It is exactly +as if Wagner had been obliged to put his thoughts in +quadrille form with the possible alternative of some +mathematical device of musical double bookkeeping. As +it is, Bach's innovations were very considerable. In the +first place, owing to the lack of the system of equal temperament, +composers had been limited to the use of only +two or three sharps and flats; in all the harpsichord music +<a class="pagebreak" name="page187" id="page187" title="187"></a> +of the pre-Bach period we rarely find compositions in +sharp keys beyond G, or flat keys beyond A♭. To be +sure, Rameau, in France, began at the same time to see +the necessity for equal temperament, but it was Bach who, +by his forty-eight “Preludes and Fugues,” written in all +the keys, first settled the matter definitely. +</p> + +<p> +In the fugue form itself, he made many innovations consisting +mainly of the casting aside of formalism. With +Bach a fugue consists of what is called the “exposition,” +that is to say, the enunciation of the theme (subject), +its answer by another voice or part, recurrence of the +subject in another part which, in turn, is again answered, +and so on according to the number of voices or parts. +After the exposition the fugue consists of a kind of free +contrapuntal fantasy on the subject and its answer. By +throwing aside the restraint of form Bach often gave his +fugues an emotional significance in spite of the complexity +of the material he worked with. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft13"> 13 </a></span><a name="fn13"></a> +Pier Luigi, born in Palestrina, near Rome.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page188" id="page188" title="188"></a> +XIV<br /><br /> +THE MERGING OF THE SUITE INTO THE SONATA</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +the previous chapter it was stated that the various +dances, such as the minuet, sarabande, allemande, etc., +led up to our modern sonata form, or, perhaps, to put it +more clearly, they led up to what we call sonata form. +As a matter of fact, already in the seventeenth century, +we find the word <i>sonata</i> applied to musical compositions; +generally to pieces for the violin, but rarely for the harpsichord. +The word sonata was derived originally from the +Italian word <i>suonare</i>, “to sound,” and the term was used +to distinguish instrumental from vocal music. The latter +was sung (<i>cantata</i>), the former was sounded (<i>suonata</i>) by +instruments. Thus many pieces were called <i>suonatas</i>; +the distinguishing point being that they were <i>played</i> and +not sung. Organ sonatas existed as far back as 1600 and +even earlier, but the earliest application of the word seems +to have been made in connection with pieces for the violin. +</p> + +<p> +Dances were often grouped together, especially when +they had some slight intrinsic musical value. Probably +the term <i>sonata</i> first designated a composition in one of +these dance forms not intended for dancing. Gradually +groups of dances were called <i>suites</i>; then, little by little, +the dance titles of the separate numbers were dropped, +and the <i>suite</i> was called <i>sonata</i>. These different numbers, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page189" id="page189" title="189"></a> +however, retained their dance characteristics, as we shall +see later. The arrangement of the pieces composing the +<i>suites</i> differed in various countries. There were French, +Italian, German, and English suites, generally, however, +retaining the same grouping of the different movements. +The first movement consisted of an <i>allemande</i>; then came +a <i>courante</i>; then a <i>minuet</i>; then a <i>sarabande</i>; and last of +all a <i>gigue</i>; all in the same key. Sometimes the <i>minuet</i> +and <i>sarabande</i> changed places, just as in modern times do +the <i>andante</i> and <i>scherzo</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Already in 1685, when Corelli's sonatas for strings +appeared, the custom of decreasing the number of movements +to three began to obtain, and a century later this +custom was universal. The <i>allemande</i>, <i>overture</i>, or <i>preludio</i> +formed the first movement; the second consisted of +the <i>sarabande</i>, the ancestor of our <i>adagio</i>; and the last part +was generally a <i>gigue</i>. Even when the dance titles were +no more used (the music having long outgrown its original +purpose), the distinctive characteristics of these different +movements were retained; the <i>sarabande</i> rhythm was still +adhered to for the <i>adagio</i> (even by Haydn) and the triple +time and rhythm of the <i>gigue</i> were given to the last part. +In addition to this, these three movements were often kept +in one key. In his first sonatas Beethoven added a movement, +generally a <i>minuet</i>, to this scheme; but returned to +the three-movement structure later. His Op. 111 has only +two movements, in a way returning to a still earlier general +form of the sonata. Now, as has already been said, some +of the earliest examples of instrumental music were mainly +descriptive in character, that is to say, consisting of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page190" id="page190" title="190"></a> +imitations of <i>things</i>, thus marking the most elementary +stage of programme music. Little by little composers +became more ambitious and began to attempt to give +expression to the emotions by means of music; and at last, +with Beethoven, “programme music” may be said, in one +sense, to have reached its climax. For although it is not +generally realized, he wrote every one of his sonatas with +definite subjects, and, at one time, was on the point of +publishing mottoes to them, in order to give the public +a hint of what was in his mind when he wrote them. +</p> + +<p> +Analysis may be considered as the reducing of a musical +composition to its various elements—harmony, rhythm, +melody—and power of expression. Just as melody may +be analyzed down to the motives and phrases of which +it consists, so may the expressiveness of music be analyzed; +and this latter study is most valuable, for it brings us +to a closer understanding of the power of music as a +language. +</p> + +<p> +For the sake of clearness we will group music as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<ol> +<li>Dance forms.</li> +<li>Programme music. (Things. Feelings.)</li> +<li>The gathering together of dances in suites.</li> +<li>The beginnings of design.</li> +<li>The merging of the suite into the sonata.</li> +</ol> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The dance tunes I need hardly quote; they consist of +a mere play of sound to keep the dancers in step, for which +purpose any more or less agreeable rhythmical succession +of sounds will serve. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page191" id="page191" title="191"></a> +If we take the next step in advance of instrumental +music we come to the giving of meanings to these dances, +and, as I have explained, these meanings will at first have +reference to things; for instance, Couperin imitates an +alarm clock; Rameau tries to make the music sound as if +three hands were playing instead of two (<i>Les trois mains</i>); +he imitates sighing (<i>Les soupirs</i>); the scolding voice; he +even tries to express a mood musically (<i>L'indifferente</i>). In +Germany, these attempts to make instrumental music +expressive of something beyond rhythmic time-keeping +continued, and we find Carl Philip Emanuel Bach attempting +to express light-hearted amiability (<i>La complaisance</i>) +and even languor (<i>Les tendres langueurs</i>). The suite, +while it combined several dances in one general form, +shows only a trace of <i>design</i>. There was more design in +one of the small programme pieces already quoted than in +most of the suites of this period (see, for example, Loeilly's +“Suite”). +</p> + +<p> +Bach possessed instinctively the feeling for musical +speech which seemed denied to his contemporaries whenever +they had no actual story to guide their expression; +and even in his dance music we find coherent musical sentences +as, for instance, in the <i>Courante</i> in A. +</p> + +<p> +In art our opinions must, in all cases, rest directly on +the thing under consideration and not on what is written +about it. In my beliefs I am no respecter of the written +word, that is to say, the mere fact that a statement is made +by a well-known man, is printed in a well-known work, or +is endorsed by many prominent names, means nothing to +me if the thing itself is available for examination. Without +<a class="pagebreak" name="page192" id="page192" title="192"></a> +a thorough knowledge of music, including its history +and development, and, above all, musical “sympathy,” +individual criticism is, of course, valueless; at the same time +the acquirement of this knowledge and sympathy is not +difficult, and I hope that we may yet have a public in +America that shall be capable of forming its own ideas, +and not be influenced by tradition, criticism, or fashion. +</p> + +<p> +We need to open our eyes and see for ourselves instead +of trusting the direction of our steps to the guidance of +others. Even an opinion based on ignorance, frankly +given, is of more value to art than a platitude gathered +from some outside source. If it is not a platitude but the +echo of some fine thought, it only makes it worse, for it is +not sincere, unless of course it is quoted understandingly. +We need freshness and sincerity in forming our judgments +in art, for it is upon these that art lives. All over the +world we find audiences listening suavely to long concerts, +and yet we do not see one person with the frankness of +the little boy in Andersen's story of the “New Clothes of +the Emperor.” It is the same with the other arts. I +have never heard anyone say that part of the foreground of +Millet's “Angelus” is “muddy” or that the Fornarina's +mysterious smile is anything but “hauntingly beautiful.” +People do not dare admire the London Law Courts; +all things must be measured by the straight lines of Grecian +architecture. Frankness! Let us have frankness, +and if we have no feelings on a subject, let us remain silent +rather than echo that drone in the hive of modern thought, +the “<i>authority</i> in art.” +</p> + +<p> +Every person with even the very smallest love and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page193" id="page193" title="193"></a> +sympathy for art possesses ideas which are valuable to +that art. From the tiniest seeds sometimes the greatest +trees are grown. Why, therefore, allow these tender +germs of individualism to be smothered by that flourishing, +arrogant bay tree of tradition—fashion, authority, +convention, etc. +</p> + +<p> +My reason for insisting on the importance of all lovers +of art being able to form their own opinions is obvious, +when we consider that our musical public is obliged to +take everything on trust. For instance, if we read on +one page of some history (every history of music has such +a page) that Mozart's sonatas are sublime, that they do +not contain one note of mere filigree work, and that they +far transcend anything written for the harpsichord or +clavichord by Haydn or his contemporaries, we echo the +saying, and, if necessary, quote the “authorities.” Now +if one had occasion to read over some of the clavichord +music of the period, possibly it might seem strange that +Mozart's sonatas did not impress with their magnificence. +One might even harbour a lurking doubt as to the value of +the many seemingly bare runs and unmeaning passages. +Then one would probably turn back to the authorities +for an explanation and find perhaps the following: “The +inexpressible charm of Mozart's music leads us to forget +the marvellous learning bestowed upon its construction. +Later composers have sought to conceal the constructional +points of the sonata which Mozart never cared to disguise, +so that incautious students have sometimes failed to +discern in them the veritable ‘pillars of the house,’ and +have accused Mozart of poverty of style because he left +<a class="pagebreak" name="page194" id="page194" title="194"></a> +them boldly exposed to view, as a great architect delights +to expose the piers upon which the tower of his cathedral +depends for its support.” (Rockstro, “History of Music,” +p. 269.) Now this is all very fine, but it is nonsense, for +Mozart's sonatas are anything but cathedrals. It is time +to cast aside this shibboleth of printer's ink and paper and +look the thing itself straight in the face. It is a fact that +Mozart's sonatas are compositions entirely unworthy of +the author of the “Magic Flute,” or of any composer with +pretensions to anything beyond mediocrity. They are +written in a style of flashy harpsichord virtuosity such as +Liszt never descended to, even in those of his works at +which so many persons are accustomed to sneer. +</p> + +<p> +Such a statement as I have just made may be cried +down as rank heresy, first by the book readers and then +by the general public; but I doubt if anyone among that +public would or could actually turn to the music itself and +analyze it intelligently, from both an æsthetic and technical +standpoint, in order to verify or disprove the assertion. +</p> + +<p> +Once a statement is made it seems to be exceedingly +difficult to keep it from obtaining the universal acceptance +which it gains by unthinking reiteration in other works. +One of the strangest cases of this repetition of a careless +statement may be found in the majority of histories of +music, where we are told that musical expression (that is +to say, the increasing and diminishing of a tone, crescendo +and diminuendo) was first <i>discovered</i> at Mannheim, in +Germany, about 1760. This statement may be found in +the works of Burney, Schubart, Reichardt, Sittard, Wasielewski, +and even in Jahn's celebrated “Life of Mozart.” +<a class="pagebreak" name="page195" id="page195" title="195"></a> +The story is that Jommelli, an Italian, first “invented” the +crescendo and diminuendo, and that when they were first +used, the people in the audience gradually rose from their +seats at the crescendo, and as the music “diminuendoed” +they sat down again. The story is absurd, for the simple +reason that even in 1705, Sperling, in his “Principæ +Musicæ,” describes crescendos from <i>ppp</i> to <i>fff</i>, and we +read in Plutarch of the same thing. +</p> + +<p> +Shedlock, in his work “The Pianoforte Sonata,” quotes +as the first sonatas for the clavier those of Kuhnau, and +cites especially the six <i>Bible</i> sonatas. Now Kuhnau, +although he was Bach's predecessor at St. Thomas' Church +in Leipzig, was certainly a composer of the very lowest +rank. The <i>Bible</i> sonatas, which Shedlock paints to us +in such glowing colours, are the merest trash, and not to be +compared with the works of his contemporaries. I do not +think that they have any place whatsoever in the history +or development either of music or of that form called the +sonata. +</p> + +<p> +The development of the suite from dance forms has +already been shown, and we will now trace the development +of the sonata from the suite in Italy, Germany, and +France. As an example of this development in Italy, a +so-called sonata by G.B. Pescetti will serve (the sonatas +by Domenico Scarlatti were not originally so named, and +the sonatas before that were simply short pieces, so designated +to distinguish them from dance music). This sonata +was published about 1730, and was one of nine. The first +movement is practically of the <i>allemande</i> type, and its +first period ends in the dominant key. There is but the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page196" id="page196" title="196"></a> +slightest trace of a second theme in the first part; yet +the improvement in contrapuntal design over the suites +is evident. The second movement is in the same key, and +retains the characteristic rhythm of the <i>sarabande</i>; at the +end, the improvement, so far as design is concerned, is +very noticeable. The last movement, still in the same +key, is a <i>gigue</i>, thus keeping well in the shadow of the +suite. +</p> + +<p> +A sonata by the German Rolle (1718–1785) is valuable +in that it shows a very decided second theme in the first +period, thus tending toward the development of the +original simple dance form into the more complex sonata +form. The <i>adagio</i>, however, still has the <i>sarabande</i> characteristics, +and foreshadows many things. It contains +many <i>words</i> that later were shaped into great poems by +others. “The Erlking” of Schubert is especially hinted +at, just as the first movement was prophetic of Beethoven. +In the last movement we have the <i>gigue</i> rhythm again. +</p> + +<p> +In France, music had become merely a court appendage, +as was the case with the other arts, and had long served +as a means for showing the divine grace with which +Louis XIV or XV could turn out his toes in the minuet. +In addition to this, the arranging of a scientific system of +harmonization by Rameau (1683–1764) (which, by the +way, is the basis of most of the treatises of harmony of the +present century), caused the few French composers who +could make headway against the prevailing Italian opera +after Lully to turn their attention away from polyphonic +writing; and having, after all, but little to express in other +than the long-accustomed dance rhythms and tunes, their +<a class="pagebreak" name="page197" id="page197" title="197"></a> +music cannot be said to have made any mark in the world. +In order to show the poverty of this style, let us take a +sonata by Méhul (1763–1817). The first movement has +already a well-defined second theme, but otherwise is a +mere collection of more or less commonplace progressions. +The second part is a dance tune, pure and simple; indeed +the first part had all the characteristics of the <i>farandole</i> +(see Bizet's “l'Arlesienne”). The last part is entitled +rondo, “a round dance,” and is evidently one in the literal +sense of the word. In all these sonatas the increasing use +of what is called the Alberti bass is noticeable. +</p> + +<p> +To show the last link between the suite and the sonata, +reference may be made to the well-known sonata in D +major by Haydn. In this, as in those analyzed above, +all the movements are in the same key. The adagio is a +<i>sarabande</i>, and the last movement has the characteristics +of the <i>gigue</i>. This, however, is only the starting point +with Haydn; later we will consider the development of +this form into what is practically our modern sonata, +which, of course, includes the symphony, quartet, quintet, +concerto, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Our path of study in tracing the development of the +sonata from the suite leads us through a sterile tract of +seemingly bare desert. The compositions referred to are +full of fragments, sometimes fine in themselves, but lying +wherever they happened to fall, their sculptors having +no perception of their value one with another. Disconnected +phrases, ideas never completed; to quote Hamlet, +“Words, words!” Later we find Beethoven and Schubert +constructing wonderful temples out of these same +<a class="pagebreak" name="page198" id="page198" title="198"></a> +fragments, and shaping these same words into marvellous +tone poems. +</p> + +<p> +The music of the period we have been considering is +well described by Browning in “A Toccata of Galuppi's”: +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes you, like a ghostly cricket,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Creaking where a house was burned:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dust and ashes, dead and done with,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Venice spent what Venice earned.</span> +</p> +</blockquote> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page199" id="page199" title="199"></a> +XV<br /><br /> +THE DEVELOPMENT OF PIANOFORTE MUSIC</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">Up</span> +to the time of Beethoven, music for the pianoforte +consisted mainly of programme music of the purely descriptive +order, that is to say, it was generally imitative +of natural or artificial externals. To be sure, if we go +back to the old clavecinists, and examine the sonatas of +Kuhnau, sundry pieces by Couperin, Rameau, and the +Germans, Froberger, C.P.E. Bach and others, we find +the beginnings of that higher order of programme music +which deals directly with the emotions; and not only that, +but which aims at causing the hearer to go beyond the +actual sounds heard, in pursuance of a train of thought +primarily suggested by this music. +</p> + +<p> +To find this art of programme music, as we may call it, +brought to a full flower, we must seek in the mystic utterances +of Robert Schumann. It is wise to keep in mind, +however, that although Schumann's piano music certainly +answers to our definition of the higher programme music, +it also marks the dividing line between emotional programme +music without a well-defined object and that +dramatically emotional art which we have every reason to +believe was aimed at by Beethoven in many of his sonatas, +and which, in its logical development and broadened out +<a class="pagebreak" name="page200" id="page200" title="200"></a> +by orchestral colours and other resources, is championed +by Richard Strauss at the present day. +</p> + +<p> +We have already learned that C.P.E. Bach had entirely +broken with the contrapuntal style of his father and his +age in order to gain freer utterance, and that the word +“colour” began to be used in his time in connection with +music for even one instrument. It is, perhaps, needless +to say that the vastly enlarged possibilities, both technical +and tonal, of the newly invented <i>forte-piano</i> were largely +the outcome of this seeking for colour in music. In +addition to this, the new art of harmonic dissonances was +already beginning to stretch out in the direction of new +and strange tonal combinations, thus giving to the music +written for the instrument many new possibilities in the +way of causing and depicting emotions. That the first +experiments were puerile, we know, as, for example, +Haydn's attempts, in one of his pianoforte sonatas, to +suggest the conversion of an obdurate sinner. +</p> + +<p> +When we consider Mozart, it is impossible to forget the +fact that in his piano works he was first and foremost a +piano virtuoso, a child prodigy, of whom filigree work was +expected by the public for which he wrote his sonatas. +(We cannot call this orientalism, for it was more or less +of German pattern, traced from the fioriture of the Italian +opera singer.) Therefore, emotional utterance or even +new or poetic colouring was not to be expected of him. +</p> + +<p> +As has been said before, it remained for Beethoven to +weld these new words and strange colours into poems, +which, notwithstanding the many barnacles hanging to +them (remnants of a past of timid adhesion to forms and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page201" id="page201" title="201"></a> +fashions), are, in truth, the first lofty and dignified musical +utterances with an object which we possess. I mean by this +statement that his art was the first to cast aside the iron +fetters of what then formed the canons of art. The latter +may be described (even in reference to modern days) as +constituting the shadow of a great man. And, although +this is a digression, I may add that all students of piano +music no doubt realize the weighty shadow that Beethoven +cast over the first half of the nineteenth century, +just as Wagner is doing at the present time. +</p> + +<p> +Our purists are unable to realize that the shadows are +the least vital part of the great men who cast them. We +remember that the only wish expressed by Diogenes when +Alexander came to see him was that the king should stand +aside so that he could enjoy the light of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +To return: We find that Beethoven was the first exponent +of our modern art. Every revolution is bound to +bring with it a reaction which seeks to consolidate and +put in safe keeping, as it were, results attained by it. +Certainly Beethoven alone can hardly be said to have +furthered this end; for his revolt led him into still more +remote and involved trains of thought, as in his later +sonatas and quartets. Even the Ninth Symphony, hampered +as it is by actual words for which declamation +and a more or less well-defined form of musical speech are +necessary, suffers from the same involved utterance that +characterizes his last period. +</p> + +<p> +Schubert, in his instrumental work, was too ardent a +seeker and lover of the purely beautiful to build upon the +forms of past generations, and thus his piano music, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page202" id="page202" title="202"></a> +neither restrained nor supported by poetic declamation, +was never held within the bounds of formalism. +</p> + +<p> +It was Mendelssohn who first invested old and seemingly +worn-out forms of instrumental music (especially for the +pianoforte) with the new poetic license of speech, which +was essentially the spirit of the age of revolution in which +he lived. +</p> + +<p> +In holding up Mendelssohn as a formalist against Beethoven, +and at the same time presenting him as the composer +directly responsible for our modern symphonic +poem, there is a seeming contradiction, which, however, +is more apparent than real. While Beethoven never +hesitated to overturn form (harmonic or otherwise) to +suit the exigencies of his inspiration, Mendelssohn cast +all his pictures into well-defined and orthodox forms. +Thus his symphonic poems, for example, the overtures to +“The Lovely Melusina,” “Fingal's Cave,” “Ruy Blas,” +etc., are really overtures in form; whereas, the so-called +“Moonlight” sonata of Beethoven, as well as many others, +are sonatas only in name. The emotional and problematic +significance given by Mendelssohn to many of his +shorter piano pieces, including even such works as preludes +and fugues, is familiar to us all. These works, however, +but rarely departed from the orthodox forms represented +by their names. His “Songs without Words” have been +so often quoted as constituting a new art form that it is +well to remember that they are practically all cast in the +same mould, that of the most simple song form, with one, +and sometimes two more or less similar verses, preceded +by a short introduction and ending with a coda. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page203" id="page203" title="203"></a> +We may say then, broadly, that Beethoven invested +instrumental music with a wonderful poignancy and power +of expression, elevating it to the point of being the medium +of expressing some of the greatest thoughts we possess. +In so doing, however, he shattered many of the great +idols of formalism by the sheer violence of his expression. +</p> + +<p> +Schubert, let me say again, seemed indifferent to +symmetry, or never thought of it in his piano music. +Mendelssohn, possibly influenced by his early severe +training with Zelter, accepted symmetry of form as the +cornerstone of his musical edifice; although he was one +of the first in the realms of avowed programme music, +he never carried it beyond the boundary of good form. +And, as in speaking a moment ago of the so-called canons +of musical art, we compared them with the shadows that +great men have cast upon their times, it may be as well +to remember that just this formalism of Mendelssohn +overshadowed and still overshadows England to the +present day. On the other hand, Beethoven's last style +still shows itself in Brahms, and even in Richard Strauss. +Schumann was different from these three. His music is +not avowed programme music; neither is it, as is much +of Schubert's, pure delight in beautiful melodies and +sounds. It did not break through formalism by sheer +violence of emotion, as did Beethoven's; least of all has it +Mendelssohn's orthodox dress. It represents, as well as I +can put it, the rhapsodical reverie of a great poet to whom +nothing seems strange, and who has the faculty of relating +his visions, never attempting to give them coherence, +until, perhaps, when awakened from his dream, he naïvely +<a class="pagebreak" name="page204" id="page204" title="204"></a> +wonders what they may have meant. It will be remembered +that Schumann added titles to his music after it +was composed. +</p> + +<p> +To all of this new, strange music, Liszt and Chopin +added the wonderful tracery of orientalism. As I have +said before, the difference between these two is that with +Chopin this tracery enveloped poetic thought as with a +thin gauze; whereas with Liszt, the embellishment itself +made the starting point for almost a new art in tonal +combination, the effects of which are seen on every hand +to-day. To realize its influence, one need only compare +the graceful arabesques of the most simple piano piece +of to-day with the awkward and gargoyle-like figuration +of Beethoven and his predecessors. We may justly +attribute this to Liszt rather than to Chopin, whose +nocturne embellishments are but first cousins to those +of the Englishman, John Field, though naturally Chopin's +Polish temperament gave his work that grace and profusion +of design which we have called orientalism. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page205" id="page205" title="205"></a> +XVI<br /><br /> +THE MYSTERY AND MIRACLE PLAY</h2> + +<p> +<!-- small caps missing in original --> +<span class="first">It</span> +is interesting to recall the origin of our words “treble” +and “discant.” The latter was derived from the first +attempts to break away from the monotony of several +persons singing the same melody in unison, octaves, +fifths, or fourths. In such cases the original melody was +called <i>cantus firmus</i> (a term still generally used in counterpoint +to designate the given melody of an exercise to +which the student is to write other parts), the new melody +that was sung with it was called the <i>discant</i>, and when +a third part was added, it received the name <i>triplum</i> +or <i>treble</i>. As Ambros remarks, this forcible welding together +of different melodies, often well-known old tunes, +secular or derived from the church chants, was on a direct +line with the contemporary condition of the other arts. +For instance, on the portal to the left of the Cathedral of +Saint Mark, at Venice, is a relief, representing some Biblical +scene, which is entirely made up of fragments of some +older sculptured figures, placed together without regard +to anatomy in much the same brutal fashion that the +melodies of the time were sung together. The traces of +this clumsy music-making extended down to Palestrina's +time, and became the germ of counterpoint, canon, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page206" id="page206" title="206"></a> +fugue, constituting (apart from the folk song) the only +music known at that time. +</p> + +<p> +This music, however, very soon developed into two +styles, one adopted by the church, the other, a secular +style, furnishing the musical texture both of opera and +other secular music. The opera, or rather the art form we +know under that name (for the name itself conveys +nothing, for which reason Wagner coined the term “music +drama”) broke away from the church in the guise of +Mysteries, as they were called in mediæval times. A +Mystery (of which our modern oratorio is the direct +descendant) was a kind of drama illustrating some sacred +subject, and the earliest specimens laid the foundation +for the Greek tragedy and comedy. We still see a relic +of this primitive art form in the Oberammergau Passion +Play. +</p> + +<p> +We read of the efforts made, as early as the fifth century, +to hold the people to the church; among other devices +employed was that of illustrating the subjects of the +services by the priests performing the offices being dressed +in an appropriate costume. Little by little the popular +songs of the people crept into the church service among +the regular ecclesiastical chants, thus foreshadowing the +beginnings of modern opera; for after a while, special Latin +texts were substituted for the regular service, the mimetic +part of which degenerated into the most extraordinary +license as, for instance, in the “Feast of Asses” (January +14) which may be called a burlesque of the mass, +and which has been described in a former chapter. +</p> + +<p> +<a name="ft14"></a>With this mixture of the vernacular and the official +<a class="pagebreak" name="page207" id="page207" title="207"></a> +Latin,<a class="fn" href="#fn14"> 14 </a> these Miracle and Passion Plays, as well as the +Mysteries and Moralities (as different forms of this ecclesiastical +mumming were called) began to be given in other +places besides the churches. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to this combination of singing and acting, +the <i>tenson</i> or poetic debate (which was one form of the +troubadour songs, and one very often <i>acted</i> by the jongleurs) +probably also did its part towards giving stability +to this new art form. The earliest specimen of it, in its +purely secular aspect, is a small work entitled “Robin et +Marian,” by Adam de la Hale, a well-known troubadour +(called “the humpback,” born at Arras in the south of +France in 1240), who followed in the train of that ferocious +Duke Charles of Anjou, who beheaded Konradin, the last +of the Hohenstaufens, in 1268, and Manfred, both of them +minnesingers. +</p> + +<p> +As the Mystery was the direct ancestor of our oratorio, +so was the little pastoral of Adam de la Hale the germ of +the modern French vaudeville. One of its melodies is +said to be sung to this day in some parts of southern +France. +</p> + +<p> +The entire object in this little play being that both +words and action should be perfectly understood, it is +obvious that as little as possible should be going on +<a class="pagebreak" name="page208" id="page208" title="208"></a> +during the singing. Thus, such melodies as we find in these +old pastoral plays would be accompanied by short notes, +serving merely to give the pitch and tonality, which would +gradually develop into chords, thus laying the foundation +for harmony. +</p> + +<p> +If, on the other hand, we look at the “church play” +of the same period, the Mystery, and remember that it +was sung by men accustomed to singing the <i>organum</i> of +Hucbald, we have a clue as to what it was and what it led +up to. For while one part or voice of the music would +give a melody (copied from or at any rate resembling the +Gregorian chant or the sequences of Notker of Tubilo), +the other voices would sing songs in the vernacular, and, +strangest of all, one voice would repeat some Latin word, +or even a “nonsense word” (to use Edward Lear's term) +but much more slowly than the other voices. Thus +the needs of the Mystery were as well met by incipient +counterpoint on the one hand, as, on the other, the +secular song-play engendered the sense of harmony. +</p> + +<p> +That the early secular forerunner of opera, as represented +by “Robin et Marian,” was still, to a certain degree, +controlled by the church is clear if we remember that at +that time the only methods of noting music were entirely +in the hands of the clergy. The notation for the lute, for +instance, was invented about 1460 to 1500. Thus, we +can say that the recording of secular music was not free +from church influence until some time after the sixteenth +century. +</p> + +<p> +This primitive “opera” music was thus fettered by +difficulty of notation and the influence of the ecclesiastical +<a class="pagebreak" name="page209" id="page209" title="209"></a> +rules until perhaps about 1600, when the first real opera +began to find a place in Italy. Jacopo Peri and Caccini +were among the first workers in the comparatively new +form, and they both took the same subject, <i>Eurydice</i>. +Of the former the following two short excerpts will suffice; +the first is where Orpheus bewails his fate; in the second +he expresses his joy at bringing Eurydice back to earth. +Caccini's opera was perhaps the first to introduce the +many useless ornaments that, up to the middle of this +century, were characteristic of Italian opera. +</p> + +<blockquote class="flush central"> +<h4>EURYDICE—PERI.</h4> + +<p>Orpheus bewailing his fate.<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure43.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure43.png" width="442" height="155" + alt="[Figure 43: I weep not, I am not sighing, + tho' thou art from me taken. + What use to sigh]" /> +</p> + +<p>Orpheus' joy in bringing back Eurydice.<br /> +[<a href="midi/figure44.midi">MIDI</a>]<br /> +<img src="images/figure44.png" width="427" height="152" + alt="[Figure 44: Gioi-te al canto mio serve frondo di che in su l'au rora]" /> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft14"> 14 </a></span><a name="fn14"></a> +It is interesting to note as to the prevalence of Latin, that +Dante's “Divina Commedia” was the first important poem in Italian. +Latin was used on the stage in Italy up to the sixteenth century; +the stationary chorus stationed on the stage remained until the +seventeenth century and was not entirely discontinued until the first +half of the eighteenth century.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page210" id="page210" title="210"></a> +XVII<br /><br /> +OPERA</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">No</span> +art form is so fleeting and so subject to the dictates of +fashion as opera. It has always been the plaything of +fashion, and suffers from its changes. To-day the stilted +figures of Hasse, Pergolesi, Rameau, and even Gluck, +seem as grotesque to us as the wigs and buckles of their +contemporaries. To Palestrina's masses and madrigals, +Rameau's and Couperin's claveçin pieces, and all of Bach, +we can still listen without this sense of incongruity. On +the other hand, operas of Alessandro Scarlatti, Matheson, +and Porpora would bore us unmitigatedly. They have +gone out of fashion. Even the modern successors of these +men, Bellini, Donizetti, and Verdi, in his earlier years, +have become dead letters musically, although only as late +as 1845, Donizetti was at the very zenith of his fame. +</p> + +<p> +Of all the operas of the past century, our present public +has not seen or even heard of one, with the exception of +“The Magic Flute,” and less probably “Don Juan.” +This is bad enough; but if we look at works belonging to +the first part of the nineteenth century, we find the same +state of affairs. The operas of Spontini, Rossini, most of +Meyerbeer's, even Weber's “Freischütz,” have passed +away, seemingly never to return. Even “Cavalleria +Rusticana,” of recent creation, is falling rapidly into +<a class="pagebreak" name="page211" id="page211" title="211"></a> +oblivion. Thus the opéra comique early disappeared in +favour of the romantic opera and the operetta. The +former has already nearly ended its career, and the latter +has descended to the level of mere farce. In the course of +time, these opera forms become more and more evanescent; +for the one-act opera of miniature tragedy, which is +practically only a few years old, is already almost extinct. +</p> + +<p> +And yet this art form has vastly more hold on the public +than other music destined to outlive it. The fact is, +that music which is tied down to the conventionalities +and moods of its time and place can never appeal but to +the particular time and mood which gave it birth. +(Incidentally, I may say the same of music having its roots +in the other peculiarities of folk song.) +</p> + +<p> +Now the writers of these operas were great men who +put their best into their work; the cause of the failure of +these operas was not on account of the music, but the +ideas and thoughts with which this music was saddled. +What were the books which people read and loved in those +days (1750–1800), that is, books upon which operas might +be built? In England we find “The Castle of Otranto,” +“The Mysterious Mother,” etc., by Horace Walpole. +Now Macaulay says that Horace Walpole's works rank +as high among the delicacies of intellectual epicures as +the Strasburg pie among the dishes described in the +<i>Almanach des Gourmands</i>. None but an unhealthy and +disorganized mind could have produced such literary +luxuries as the works of Walpole. +</p> + +<p> +France had not yet recovered from the empty formalism +of the preceding century, Bernardin de St. Pierre was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page212" id="page212" title="212"></a> +a kind of colonial Mlle. Scudery, and Jean Jacques +Rousseau, one of the sparks which were to ignite the French +Revolution, writes his popular opera to the silly story of +“The Village Soothsayer.” Had not Gluck written to the +classics he would have had to write “à la Watteau.” +</p> + +<p> +In Germany, conditions were better; for the so-called +Romantic school had just begun to make headway. In +opera, however, this school of Romanticism only commenced +to make itself felt later, when we have a crop of +operas on Fouque's “Undine” as well as “Hofmann's +Tales.” +</p> + +<p> +It is as though opera had to dress according to the +prevailing fashion of the day. The very large sleeves +of one year look strange to us a little later. Just so is it +with opera; for those old operas by Méhul, Spontini, +Salieri, and others all wear enormous crinolines, while the +contemporary instrumental works of the same period, +unfettered by fashion, still possess all the freedom which +their limited speech permitted them to have. Thus we +see that opera is necessarily a child of the times in which +it is written, in contrast to other music which echoes but +the thought of the composer, thought that is not necessarily +bound down to any time, place, or peculiarity of +diction. +</p> + +<p> +In Germany, Italian opera was never accepted by the +people as it was in France. In the latter country, opera +had to be in the vernacular and practically to become +<i>French</i>. Lully's operas were written to libretti by Quinault +and Corneille; and while, as early as 1645, Paris +imported its opera from Italy, this art form was rapidly +<a class="pagebreak" name="page213" id="page213" title="213"></a> +modified to suit the public for which it was secured. +Even with Piccini and Gluck, and down to Rossini and +Meyerbeer, this nationalism was infused into the foreign +product. In Germany the case was entirely different, +for up to the very last, Italian opera was a thing apart. +Although German composers, such as Mozart and Paër, +wrote Italian opera, the “Singspiel” (a kind of opéra +comique), found its culminating point in Weber's “Freischütz,” +which fought against Rossini's operas for supremacy +in Germany. +</p> + +<p> +Gluck's victory over the Piccinists gave to the French +form of Italian opera an impetus that caused Cherubini +to proceed on almost the same lines in his operas, the +“Water Carrier,” etc. Cherubini was a pupil of Andreas +Sarti, a celebrated contrapuntist and a disciple of the last +of the Italian church composers who looked back to +Palestrina for inspiration. Thus the infusion of a certain +soberness of diction, which we call German, fitted in with +the man's training and predilections. +</p> + +<p> +The first names we meet with in French opera after +Cherubini are those of Grétry, Méhul, and Spontini. +The former was a Frenchman whose works are now +obsolete, although Macfarren, in the “Encyclopedia +Brittanica,” says that he is the only French composer +of symphonies that are known and enjoy popularity in +France. +</p> + +<p> +Grétry was born in Liége, about 1740. He walked to +Italy, studied in Rome, and returned to France about 1770. +None of his works have come down to us, but his name is +interesting by reason of a certain contradiction in his +<a class="pagebreak" name="page214" id="page214" title="214"></a> +operas. This contradiction consists in his being one of the +first to revive the idea of the hidden orchestra; it is +interesting also to note that in his “Richard Cœur de Lion,” +he anticipated Wagner's use of the <i>leitmotiv</i>. His words +on the hidden orchestra sound strangely modern: +</p> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">Plan for a New Theatre</span>.—I should like the auditorium of +my theatre to be small, holding at the most one thousand persons +and consisting of a sort of open space, without boxes, small or great; +for these nooks only encourage talking and scandal. I would like +the orchestra to be concealed, so that neither the musicians nor the +lights on their music stands could be visible to the spectators. +</p></blockquote> + +<p> +Méhul was born about 1763 in the south of France, +and is celebrated, among other things, as being a pupil +of Gluck, in Paris. He was also noted for having, at +the request of Napoleon, brought out an opera based on +Macpherson's “Ossian,” in which no violins were used +in the orchestra. “Joseph,” another opera of his, is +occasionally given in small German towns. Méhul died +in 1817. +</p> + +<p> +Spontini, the next representative of opera in France, +was an Italian, born in 1774. He went to Paris in 1803, +where, through the influence of the Empress Josephine, +he was enabled to have several small operas performed; +finally in 1807 his “Vestal,” written to a French text, +was given with great success. In this, his greatest work, +he followed Gluck's footsteps, not only in the music, but +also in the choice of a classic subject. In 1809, he branched +out into a more romantic vein with the opera of “Fernando +Cortez.” His other works never attained popularity. +After the Restoration in France, he was named +<a class="pagebreak" name="page215" id="page215" title="215"></a> +director of the court music in Berlin by the King of +Prussia, at an annual salary of ten thousand thalers +(about $7,500), a position he held from 1820 to 1840. +He died in Italy in 1851. Spontini may be said to have +been the last representative of the Gluck opera; but he +also brought into it all the magnificence in scenery, etc., +that would naturally be expected by the fashion of the +First Empire. He made no innovations, and merely +served to keep alive the traditions of Grand Opera in +France. +</p> + +<p> +The next powerful influence in France, and indeed in +all Europe, was that of Rossini. He may be said to have +built on Gluck's ideas in many ways. Born in 1792, at +Pesaro, in Italy, he wrote many operas of the flimsy +Italian style while still a boy. At twenty-one he had +already written his “Tancredi” and the opera buffa, +“The Italians in Algiers.” His best work (besides “William +Tell”) was “The Barber of Seville.” Other works +are “Cinderella” (<i>La Cenerentola</i>), “The Thieving +Blackbird” (<i>La Gazza Ladra</i>), “Moses,” and “The Lady of +the Lake.” These operas were mostly made up of parts +of others that were failures, à la Hasse. An engagement +being offered him in London, he went there with his wife, +and in one season they earned about two hundred thousand +francs, which laid the foundation for his future prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +The next year he went to Paris, where, after a few +unimportant works, he, produced “William Tell” with +tremendous success (1829). Although he lived until 1868, +he never wrote for the operatic stage again, his other works +being mainly the well-known “Stabat Mater” and some +<a class="pagebreak" name="page216" id="page216" title="216"></a> +choruses. He was essentially a writer of light opera, +although “William Tell” has many elevated moments. +His style was so entirely warped by his love for show and +the virtuoso side of singing that the many real beauties +of his music are hardly recognizable. His music is so +overladen with <i>fioriture</i> that often its very considerable +value is obscured. He had absolutely no influence upon +German music, for the Germans, from Beethoven down, +despised the flimsy style and aims of this man, who, by +appealing to the most unmusical side of the fashionable +audiences of Europe, did so much to discourage the production +of operas with a lofty aim. In France, however, +his influence was unchallenged, and we may almost say +that, with few exceptions, the overture to “William Tell” +served as a model for all other operatic overtures which +have been written there up to the present day. We have +only to look at the many overtures by Hérold, Boieldieu, +Auber, and others, to see the influence exerted by this +style of overture, which consisted of a slow introduction, +followed by a more or less sentimental melody, followed +in turn by a galop as a coda. +</p> + +<p> +So fashionable had this kind of thing become that even +Weber was slightly touched by it. In the meanwhile, the +French composers were producing operas of a smaller +kind, but, in many ways, of a better character than the +larger works of Rossini, Spontini, and their followers. +Had this flimsy Italian influence been lacking, doubtless +French opera to-day would be a different thing from what +it actually is. For these smaller operas by Hérold, Auber, +and Boieldieu had many points in common with the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page217" id="page217" title="217"></a> +German <i>Singspiel</i>, which may be said to have saved +German musical art for Wagner. +</p> + +<p> +What might have developed under better conditions is +shown in a work by Halévy entitled, “La juive,” in which +is to be found promise of a great school of opera, a promise +unhappily stifled by the advent of an eclectic, the +German Meyerbeer, who blinded the public with unheard +of magnificence of staging, just as Rossini before him had +blinded it by novel technical feats. Meyerbeer thus drew +the art into a new channel, and, unluckily, this new +tendency was not so much in the direction of elevation of +style as in sensationalism. +</p> + +<p> +To return to the French composers. Hérold was born +in 1791, in Paris, and his principal works were “Zampa” +and the “Pré aux clercs.” The first was produced in +1831, the latter in 1832. He died in 1833. Boieldieu was +born in 1775, in Rouen; died 1834. His principal works +were “La dame blanche” and “Jean de Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Halévy (Levy) was born in 1799, in Paris, and died in +1862; his father was a Bavarian and his mother from +Lorraine. He wrote innumerable operas. His most +famous work, “La juive,” written in 1835, was killed by +Meyerbeer's “Huguenots,” and produced a year later. +He was professor of counterpoint at the Conservatoire +from 1831, among his pupils being Gounod, Massé, Bazin, +and Bizet. +</p> + +<p> +Auber was born in 1782, and died in May, 1871. He +was practically the last of the essentially French composers. +His operas may be summed up as being the perfect translation +into music of the witty plays of Scribe, with whom +<a class="pagebreak" name="page218" id="page218" title="218"></a> +he was associated all his life. To read a comedy by +Scribe is to imagine Auber's music to it. No one has +excelled Auber in the expression of all the finesse of wit +and lightness of touch. What the union between the two +men was may be inferred from the fact that Scribe wrote +many of his librettos to Auber's music, the latter being +written first, Scribe then adding the words. His principal +works are “Masaniello” or “The Mute,” and “Fra +Diavolo.” He was appointed director of the Paris +Conservatoire, in 1842, in succession to Cherubini. +</p> + +<p> +In speaking of Grétry, I quoted his opinion (given in +one of his essays on music) as to what opera should be +and cited his use of the <i>leitmotiv</i> in his “Richard Cœur +de Lion” (which contains the air, <i>une fièvre brûlante</i>). +If with this we quote his reasons for writing opéra comique +rather than grand opera, we have one of the reasons +why French opera has, as yet, never developed beyond +Massenet's “Roi de Lahore” on one side, and Delibes' +“<ins title="Transcriber's note: corrected from 'Lakme'">Lakmé</ins>” +on the other. +</p> + +<p> +Grétry writes that he introduced lyric comedy on the +stage because the public was tired of tragedy, and because +he had heard so many lovers of dancing complain that +their favourite art played only a subordinate rôle in grand +opera. Also the public loved to hear short songs; therefore +he introduced many such into his operas. +</p> + +<p> +Even nowadays, this seeming contradiction between +theory and practice is to be found, I think, in the French +successors of Meyerbeer. The public needed dancing, +and all theories must bend to that wish. Even Wagner +succumbed to this influence in Paris; and when Weber's +<a class="pagebreak" name="page219" id="page219" title="219"></a> +“Freischütz” was first given at the grand opera, Berlioz +was commissioned to arrange ballet music from +Weber's piano works to supply the deficiency. +</p> + +<p> +In France, even to-day, everything gives way to the public, +a public whose intelligence from a poetic standpoint +is, in my opinion, lower than that of any other country. +The French composer is dependent on his country (Paris) +as is no musician of other nationality. Berlioz' life was +embittered by the want of recognition in Paris. Although +he had been acclaimed as a great musician all over +Europe, yet he returned again and again to Paris, preferring +(as he admits) the approbation of its musically +worthless public to his otherwise world-wide fame. +</p> + +<p> +We remember that Auber never stirred out of Paris +throughout his long life. It was an article in the <i>Gazette +Musicale</i> of Paris which was instrumental in calling +Gounod back into the world from his intended priestly +vocation. And this influence of the admittedly ignorant +and superficial French public is the more remarkable when +one considers the fact that it was always the last to admit +the value of the best work of its composers. Thus +Berlioz' fame was gained in Russia and Germany while he +was still derided and comparatively unknown in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +The failure of Bizet's “Carmen” is said to have hastened +the composer's death, which took place within three +months after the first performance of the opera. As Saint-Saëns +wrote at the time, in his disgust at the French public: +“The fat, ugly bourgeois ruminates in his padded stall, +regretting separation from his kind. He half opens a +glassy eye, munches a bonbon, then sleeps again, thinking +<a class="pagebreak" name="page220" id="page220" title="220"></a> +that the orchestra is a-tuning.” And yet, even Saint-Saëns, +whose name became known chiefly through Liszt's +help, and whose operas and symphonies were given in +Germany before they were known in France, even he is +one of the most ardent adherents to the “anti-foreigner” +cry in France. In my opinion, this respect for and attempt +to please this grossly ignorant French public is and +has been one of the great devitalizing influences which +hamper the French composer. +</p> + +<p> +Charles Gounod was born in 1818, in Paris. His father +was an engraver and died when Gounod was very young. +The boy received his first music lessons from his mother. +He was admitted to the Conservatoire at sixteen, and +studied with Halévy and Lesueur. In 1839 he gained +<i>the Prix de Rome</i>, and spent three years in Rome, studying +ecclesiastical music. In 1846 he contemplated becoming +a priest, and wrote a number of religious vocal works, +published under the name Abbé C. Gounod. In 1851 the +article I referred to appeared, and such was its effect on +Gounod, that within four months his first opera “Sapho” +was given (April, 1851). A year later this was followed by +some music for a tragedy (Poussard's “Ulysse” at the +Comédie Française), and in 1854 by the five-act opera “La +nonne sanglante.” These were only very moderately +successful; and so Gounod turned to the opéra comique, and +wrote music to an adaptation of Molière's “Medecin +malgré lui.” This became very popular, and paved the +way for his “Faust,” which was produced at the Opéra +Comique in 1859. In the opéra comique, as we know, the +singing was always interspersed with spoken dialogue. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page221" id="page221" title="221"></a> +Thus, this opera, as we know it, dates from its preparation +for the Grand Opera ten years later, 1869. Ten months +after “Faust” was given he used a fable of Lafontaine +for a short light opera, “Philemon and Baucis.” +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, “Faust” began to bring him encouragement, +and his next opera was on the subject of the +“Queen of Sheba” (1862). This being unsuccessful, he +wrote two more light operas, “Mireille” and “La +colombe” (1866). The next was “Romeo et Juliette” +(1867). This was very successful, and marks the +culmination of Gounod's success as an opera composer. In +1870 he went to London, where he made his home for +a number of years. His later operas, “Cinq-Mars” +(1877), “Polyeucte” (1878), and “Le tribut de Zamora” +(1881), met with small success, and have rarely been +given. +</p> + +<p> +In his later years, as we know, he showed his early +predilection for religious music; and his oratorios “The +Redemption,” “Mors et Vita,” and several masses have +been given with varying success. Perhaps one of the +greatest points ever made in Gounod's favour by a critic +was that by Pougin, who asks what other composer could +have written two such operas as “Faust” and “Romeo +et Juliette” and still have them essentially different +musically. The “Garden Scene” in the one and the +“Balcony Scene” in the other are identical, so far as the +feeling of the play is concerned; also the duel of Faust and +Valentine and Romeo and Tybalt. +</p> + +<p> +Ambroise Thomas's better works, “Mignon” and +“Hamlet,” may be said to be more or less echoes of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page222" id="page222" title="222"></a> +Gounod; and while his “Francesca da Rimini,” which was +brought out in 1882, was by far his most ambitious work, +it never became known outside of Paris. Ambroise +Thomas was born in 1811, and died within a year of Gounod. +His chief merit was in his successful direction of the +Conservatoire, to which he succeeded Auber in 1871. +</p> + +<p> +Georges Bizet (his name was Alexander César Leopold) +was born in 1838, in Paris. His father was a poor singing +teacher, and his mother a sister-in-law of Delsarte; she +was a first-prize piano pupil of the Conservatoire. As a +boy, Bizet was very precocious, and entered the +Conservatoire as a pupil of Marmontel when he was ten. He +took successively the first prizes for solfége, piano, organ, +and fugue, and finally the <i>Prix de Rome</i> in 1857, when he +was nineteen years old. The latter kept him in Rome +until 1861, when he returned to Paris and gave piano and +harmony lessons and arranged dance music for brass +bands, a <i>métier</i> not unknown to either Wagner or Raff. +</p> + +<p> +Until 1872, Bizet wrote but small and unimportant +works, such as “The Pearl Fisher,” “The Fair Maid +of Perth,” and several vaudeville operettas, some of +which he wrote to order and anonymously. He married a +daughter of Halévy, the composer, and in 1871–72 served +in the National Guard. His first important work was the +incidental music to Alphonse Daudet's “L'Arlesienne” +and finally his “Carmen” was given (but without success), +at the Opéra Comique, in March, 1875. He died +June 3, 1875. +</p> + +<p> +Camille Saint-Saëns was born in Paris, in 1835; he +commenced studying piano when only three years old. I +<a class="pagebreak" name="page223" id="page223" title="223"></a> +believe it is mostly through his piano concertos and his +symphonic poems that his name will live; for his operas +have never attained popularity, with perhaps the one +exception of “Samson and Delilah.” His other operas +are: “The Yellow Princess,” “Proserpina,” “Etienne +Marcel,” “Henry VIII,” “Ascanio.” +</p> + +<p> +Jules Massenet was born in +<ins title="Transcriber's note: corrected from '1852'">1842</ins>, +and at the age of +twelve became a pupil of Bezit at the Conservatoire, was +rejected by Bezit for want of talent, and afterward studied +with Reber and Thomas, and won the <i>Prix de Rome</i> in +1863. Upon his return, in 1866, he wrote a number of +small orchestral works, including two suites and several +sacred dramas, “Marie Magdalen” and “Eve and the +Virgin,” in which the general Meyerbeerian style militated +against any suggestion of religious feeling. His first +grand opera, “Le roi de Lahore,” was given in 1881. +The second was “Herodiade,” which was followed by +“Manon,” “The Cid,” “Esclarmonde,” “Le mage.” +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page224" id="page224" title="224"></a> +XVIII<br /><br /> +OPERA (Continued)</h2> + +<p> +<!-- small caps missing in original --> +<span class="first">One</span> +of the most disputed questions in modern music is +that of opera. Although we have many controversies as to +what purely instrumental or vocal music may do, the +operatic art, if we may call it so, always remains the +same. In creating the music drama, Wagner put forth +a composite art, something which many declare impossible, +and as many others advocate as being the most complete +art form yet conceived. We are still in the midst of the +discussion, and a final verdict is therefore as yet impossible. +On one hand we have Wagner, and against him we have +the absolutists such as Brahms, the orthodox thinkers +represented by Anton Rubinstein and many others, the +new Russian school represented by Cui, Rimsky-Korsakov, +Tchaikovsky, and the successors of the French school +of Meyerbeer, namely, Saint-Saëns, Massenet, etc. +</p> + +<p> +In order to get a clear idea of the present state of the +matter we must review the question from the beginning +of the eighteenth century. For many reasons this is not +an easy task, first of all because very little of the music +of the operas of this period actually exists. We know +the names of Hasse, Pergolesi, Matheson, Graun, Alessandro +Scarlatti (who was a much greater man than his son +the harpsichord player and composer, Domenico), to +name only a few. To be sure, a number of the French +<a class="pagebreak" name="page225" id="page225" title="225"></a> +operas of the period are preserved, owing to the custom +in France of engraving music. In Germany and Italy, +however, such operas were never printed, and one may +safely say that it was almost the rule for only one manuscript +copy to be available. Naturally this copy belonged +to the composer, who generally led the opera himself, +improvising much of it on the harpsichord, as we shall +see later. As an instance of the danger which operas, +under such conditions, ran of being destroyed and thus +lost to the world, we may cite the total destruction of +over sixty of Hasse's operas in his extreme old age. +</p> + +<p> +The second point which makes it difficult for us to get +an absolutely clear insight into the conditions of opera at +the beginning of the eighteenth century lies in the fact +that contemporary historians never brought their histories +up to their own times. Thus Marpurg, in his history, +divides music into four periods; first, that of Adam +and Eve to the flood; second, from the flood to the +Argonauts; third, to the beginning of the Olympiads; +fourth, from thence to Pythagoras. The same may be +said of the celebrated histories of Gerbert and Padre +Martini. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, we are certain that much of the +modern speculation was anticipated by these men. For +instance, Matheson calls pantomime “dumb music,” freed +from melodic and harmonic forms. The idea was advanced +that music owes its rhythmic regularity and form +to dancing, and architecture was called frozen music, a +metaphor which, in later days, was considered such an +original conception of Goethe and Schlegel. This same +<a class="pagebreak" name="page226" id="page226" title="226"></a> +inability of historians to bring their accounts up to the +contemporary times may be noticed in the later works +of Forkel (d. 1818) and Ambros (d. 1876). +</p> + +<p> +Yet a third reason remains which tends to confuse the +student as to what really constituted opera. This is +owing to the fact that there existed the very important +element of improvisation, of which I shall speak later. +</p> + +<p> +In order to see what Gluck, Weber, and Wagner had to +break away from, let us look at the condition of opera at +the beginning of the eighteenth century. We remember +that opera, having become emancipated from the Church +long before any other music, developed apace, while instrumental +(secular) music was still in its infancy. In +Germany, even the drama was neglected for its kindred +form of opera; therefore, in studying its development, we +may well understand why the dramatic stage considered +the opera its deadly enemy. +</p> + +<p> +The life of the German dramatist and actor of the first +half of the eighteenth century was one of the direst hardship +and poverty. Eckhof, one of the greatest actors of +his time, made his entry into Brunswick in a kind of +miserable hay cart, in which, accompanied by his sick +wife and several dogs, he had travelled over the rough +roads. To keep warm they had filled part of the wagon +with straw. The German actor and dramatist of that +time often died in the hospital, despised by the richer +classes; even the village priests and ministers refused to +allow them to eat at their tables. Their scenery rarely +consisted of more than three rough pieces: a landscape, a +large room, and a peasant's hut interior. Many even had +<a class="pagebreak" name="page227" id="page227" title="227"></a> +only two large cloths which were hung about the stage, +one green, which was to be used when the scene was in the +open air, and the other yellow, which was used to represent +an interior. Shakespeare's “Poor Players” were certainly +a stern reality in Germany. In order to attract the +public the plays had to consist for the most part of the +grossest subjects imaginable, it being barely possible to +smuggle some small portion of serious drama into the +entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +With opera, however, it was vastly different; opera +troupes were met at the city gates by the royal or ducal +carriages, and the singers were fêted everywhere. The +prices paid them can only be compared with the salaries +paid nowadays. They were often ennobled, and the +different courts quarrelled for the honour of their presence. +The accounts of the cost of the scenery used are incredible, +amounting to many thousands of dollars for a single +performance. +</p> + +<p> +One of the earliest German kapellmeisters and opera +composers was Johann Adolf Hasse, who was born in +Dresden about 1700. To show the foundation upon which +Gluck built, we will look at opera as it existed in Hasse's +time. In 1727 Hasse married at Venice, Faustina Bordoni, +the foremost singer of the time. He wrote over +one hundred operas for her, and had a salary of thirty-six +thousand marks, or nine thousand dollars, yearly. Now +these operas were very different from those we know. +The arias in them (and, of course, the whole opera was +practically but a succession of arias) were only sketched +in an extremely vague manner. Much was left to the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page228" id="page228" title="228"></a> +singer, and the accompaniment was sparsely indicated +by figures written above a bass. The recitative which +separated one aria from another was improvised by the +singer, and was accompanied on the harpsichord by the +kapellmeister, who was naturally obliged to improvise his +part on the spur of the moment, following the caprice of +the singer. There was no creating an atmosphere for a +tragic or dramatic situation by means of the accompaniment; +as soon as the situation arrived, an aria was sung +explaining it. Now, as the singer was given much latitude +in regard to the melody, and <i>absolute</i> liberty in regard to +the recitative, it is easy to see that, with the astounding +technical perfection possessed by the singers of the time, +this latitude would be used to astonish the hearers by +wonderful vocal feats intermingled with more or less passionate +declamation. +</p> + +<p> +The composer was merely the excuse for the opera; but +he needed to be a consummate musician to conduct and +accompany this improvised music, of which his written +score was but the nucleus. The wretched acting of opera +singers in general has been rather humourously traced back +to this epoch. Nowadays, in an opera, when, by way of +example, a murder is to be committed, the orchestra paints +the situation, and the act is accomplished without delay. +In those olden days a singer would have indignantly refused +to submit to such a usurpation of his rights; he would +have raised his dagger, and then, before striking, would +have sung an aria in the regular three parts, after which he +would have stabbed his man. The necessity for doing +something during this interim is said to be responsible for +<a class="pagebreak" name="page229" id="page229" title="229"></a> +those idiotic gestures which used to be such a seemingly +necessary part of the equipment of the opera singer. +</p> + +<p> +In the ordinary opera of the time there was the custom +of usually having about from twenty to thirty such arias +(Hasse's one hundred operas contain about three thousand +arias). Now these arias, although they were intended to +paint a situation, rapidly became simply a means to display +the singer's skill. The second part was a melody +with plenty of vocal effects, and the third part a bravura +piece, pure and simple. So there only remained the +recitative in which true dramatic art could find place. As +this, however, was invariably improvised by the singer, +one can see that the composer of music had his cross as +well as his brother the dramatist. The music having no +vital connection with the text, it is easy to see how one +opera could be set to several texts or <i>vice-versa</i>, as was +often done. +</p> + +<p> +Another factor also contributed to retard the artistic +development of opera. All these arias had to be constructed +and sung according to certain customs. Thus, +the fiery, minor aria was always sung by the villain, the +so-called colorature arias by the tall, majestic heroine, etc. +</p> + +<p> +All this seems childish to us, but it was certainly a +powerful factor in making fame for a composer. For, as +has been said, while a modern composer writes two or +three different operas, Hasse wrote one hundred versions +of one. This also had its effect on instrumental music, +and, in a way, is also the direct cause of that monstrosity +known as “variations” (Händel wrote sixty-six on one +theme.) In our days we often hear the bitter complaint +<a class="pagebreak" name="page230" id="page230" title="230"></a> +that opera singers are no longer what they used to be, +and that the great art of singing has been lost. If we look +back to the period under consideration, we cannot but +admit that there is much truth in the contention. In the +first place, an opera singer of those days was necessarily an +actor of great resource, a thorough musician, a composer, +and a marvellous technician. In addition to this, operas +were always written for individuals. Thus, all of Hasse's +were designed for Faustina's voice; and by examining the +music, we can tell exactly what the good and bad points of +her voice were, such was the care with which it was written. +</p> + +<p> +Before we leave the subject of Hasse and his operas, +I wish to refer briefly to a statement found in all +histories and books on music. We find it stated that all +this music was sung and played either loud or soft; with +no gradual transitions from one to the other. The existence +of that gradual swelling or diminishing of the tone +in music which we call crescendo and diminuendo, is invariably +denied, and its first use is attributed to Jommelli, +director of the opera at Mannheim, in 1760. Thus we +are asked to believe that Faustina sang either <i>piano</i> or +<i>forte</i>, and still was an intensely dramatic singer. +</p> + +<p> +This seems to me to require no comment; especially as, +already in 1676, Matthew Locke, an English writer, uses +the +<img src="images/cresc.png" width="64" height="12" alt="[crescendo]" /> +sign for the gradual transition from soft to loud. +For obvious reasons there could be no such transition in +harpsichord music, and this is why, when the same instrument +was provided with hammers instead of quills, the +name was changed to <i>pianoforte</i>, to indicate its power to +modify the tone from soft to loud. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page231" id="page231" title="231"></a> +Naturally Händel, who was a man of despotic tendencies, +could not long submit to the caprices of opera singers. +After innumerable conflicts with them, we find him turning +back to one of the older forms of opera, the oratorio. +</p> + +<p> +Bach never troubled himself about an art from which +he was so widely separated both by training and inclination. +Thus the reformation of opera (I mean the old opera +of which I have been speaking) devolved upon Gluck. +His early operas were entirely on the lines of those of +Hasse and Porpora. He wrote operas for archduchesses +(“Il Parnasso” was played by four archduchesses and +accompanied on harpsichord by the Archduke Leopold), +and was music master to Marie Antoinette at Vienna. It +was owing to these powerful influences that his art principles +had an opportunity to be so widely exploited. For +these principles were not new; they formed the basis of +Peri's first attempt at opera in 1600, and had been recalled +in vain by Marcello in 1720. They were so simple that it +seems almost childish to quote them. They demanded +merely that the music should always assist, but never +interfere with either the declamation or dramatic action +of the story. Thus by Gluck's powerful influence with +what may be termed the fashion of his day, he did much to +relegate to a place of minor importance the singer, who +until then had held undisputed sway. This being the case, +the great art of singing, which had allowed the artist the +full control and responsibility of opera, thus centering all +upon the one individuality, degenerated into the more +subordinate rôle of following the composer's directions. +</p> + +<p> +It now became the duty of the composer to foresee every +<a class="pagebreak" name="page232" id="page232" title="232"></a> +contingency of his work, and it lay with him to give +directions for every detail of it. As a result, the singers, +having no longer absolute control but still anxious to +display their technical acquirements, gradually changed +into that now almost obsolete abomination, the “Italian +opera singer,” an artist, who, shirking all responsibility +for the music and dramatic action, neglected the composer +so far as possible, and introduced vocal pyrotechnics +wherever he or she dared—and their daring was great. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, as Gluck was bringing in his reforms, +songs were gradually introduced into the <i>Schauspiel</i> or +drama, the ill-fated brother of opera in Germany; and +just as the grand opera reached its highest point with +Gluck, so this species of melodrama grew apace, until we +see its culmination in Weber's “Freischütz.” +</p> + +<p> +The good results of Gluck's innovations and also, to a +certain degree, its discrepancies, may be plainly seen in +Mozart's operas; for only too often in his operas Mozart +was obliged to introduce <i>fioriture</i> of the poorest possible +description in situations where they were utterly out of +place. This, however, may not be entirely laid at the +door of the exacting singer, for we find these same <i>fioriture</i> +throughout his harpsichord music. +</p> + +<p> +We may almost say that the union of drama and music +was first definitely given status by Mozart; for a number +of his operas, such as the “Schauspieldirektor,” etc., +were merely a form of the German <i>Singspiel</i>, which, as I +have said, culminated in “Freischütz.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus, at the beginning of our century we find two art +forms: First, grand opera of a strange nationality, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page233" id="page233" title="233"></a> +second, the small but rapidly developing form of comedy +or drama with music. +</p> + +<p> +In order to show how Wagner evolved his art theories +from this material, we must consider to some degree the +general conditions of this period. +</p> + +<p> +As late as 1853, Riehl wrote that Mendelssohn was the +only composer who had the German public, whereas others +had only a small section of it. For example, Schumann, +whose music he did not like, was accepted as a new Messiah +in the Elbe River district; “but who,” he asks, “knows +anything about him in the south or west of Germany?” +And as for Richard Wagner, who, he says, is a man of +extravagant ideas and a kind of phenomenon of no consequence +artistically, he asks, “who really knows anything +about him outside of the little party of fanatics who +profess to like his music (so-called)?” Its only chance of +becoming known, he says, is in the public's curiosity to +hear works which are rarely given. This curiosity, he +continues, will be a much more potent factor in his chance +of becoming known than all his newspaper articles and +the propaganda of his friend, Franz Liszt. +</p> + +<p> +For the German opera there were half a dozen <i>Boersenplätze</i>—Berlin +for the northwest, Hamburg for the +northeast, Frankfort for the southwest, Munich for the +southeast. As Riehl says, a success in Frankfort meant +a success in all the Frankfort clay deposit and sandstone +systems, but in the chalk formation of Munich it stood +no chance. Thus Germany had no musical centre. But +after Meyerbeer found such a centre in Paris, all other +Germans, including Wagner, looked to Paris for fame. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page234" id="page234" title="234"></a> +At the end of the eighteenth century, Vienna was the +art centre; nevertheless Gluck had to go to Paris for +recognition. +</p> + +<p> +Mendelssohn only succeeded by his <i>Salonfähigkeit</i>. +Always respectable in his forms, no one else could have +made music popular among the cultured classes as could +Mendelssohn. This also had its danger; for if Mendelssohn +had written an opera (the lack of which was so +bewailed by the Philistines), it would have taken root all +over Germany, and put Wagner back many years. At +the death of Mendelssohn, the Philistines heralded the +coming of a new German national school, founded on his +principles (formalism), one that would clarify the artistic +atmosphere of the turgid and anarchistic excesses of +Wagner and Berlioz and their followers. These critics +found already that Beethoven's melodies were too long +and his instrumentation too involved. They declared +that the further music departed from its natural simplicity +the more involved its utterance became, the less clear, +and consequently the poorer it was. Music was compared +to architecture, and thus the more Greek it was, the +better; forgetting that architecture was tied to utilitarianism +and poetry to word-symbols, and that painting is +primarily an art of externals. +</p> + +<p> +Riehl says that art is always in danger of ruin when its +simple foundation forms are too much elaborated, overlooking +the fact that music is not an art, but psychological +utterance. +</p> + +<p> +It needed all Wagner's gigantic personality to rise above +this wave of formalism that looked to the past for its +<a class="pagebreak" name="page235" id="page235" title="235"></a> +salvation, a past which was one of childish experimenting +rather than of æsthetic accomplishment. The tendency +was to return to the dark cave where tangible walls were +to be touched by the hands, rather than to emerge into a +sunlight that seemed blinding. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page236" id="page236" title="236"></a> +XIX<br /><br /> +ON THE LIVES AND ART PRINCIPLES OF +SOME SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH +CENTURY COMPOSERS</h2> + +<p> +<!-- small caps missing in original --> +<span class="first">There</span> +is much of value to the student to be derived from +a study of the lives and art principles of the composers +of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. To go back +to an earlier period would hardly be worth while, as the +music composed in those days is too much obscured by +the uncertainty of tradition and the inevitable awkwardness +of expression that goes with all primitiveness in art. +</p> + +<p> +The first whom I would mention are Don Carlo Gesualdo, +Prince of Venosa, and Ludovico Viadana. +</p> + +<p> +The former was a nephew of the Archbishop of Naples, +was born in 1550, and died in 1613. His name is important +from the fact that he went boldly beyond Monteverde, +his contemporary, in the use of the new dissonant chords +(sevenths and ninths) which were just beginning to be +employed, and adopted a chromatic style of writing which +strangely foreshadowed the chromatic polyphonic style +of the present century. He wrote innumerable madrigals +for a number of voices, but his innovations remained +sterile so far as the development of music is concerned, +for the reason that while his music often acquired a wonderful +poignancy for his time by the use of chromatics, just +<a class="pagebreak" name="page237" id="page237" title="237"></a> +as often it led him into the merest bramble bush of +sound, real music being entirely absent. +</p> + +<p> +Viadana (1566–1645) has been placed by many historians +of music in the same category as Guido d'Arezzo +(who is credited with having invented solmization, musical +notation, etc.), Palestrina, Monteverde and Peri, who +are famed, the one for having discovered the dominant +ninth chord, and the other for the invention of opera. +Viadana is said to have been the first to use what is called +a <i>basso continuo</i>, and even the figured bass. The former +was the uninterrupted repetition of a short melody or +phrase in the bass through the entire course of a piece of +music. This was done very often to give a sense of unity +that nowadays would be obtained by a repetition of the +first thought at certain intervals through the piece. The +figured (or better, ciphered) bass was an entirely different +thing. This device, which is still employed, consisted of +the use of figures to indicate the different chords in music. +These figures or ciphers were written over or under the +bass note on which the chord represented by the figures +was to be played or sung. A 5 over or under a bass note +meant that with that note a perfect major triad was to +be sounded, considering the note written as the root of +the chord; a 3 was taken to stand for a perfect minor +triad; a 6 for the chord of the sixth (first inversion of a +triad), and <sup>6</sup>⁄<sub>4</sub> +for the second inversion; a line through a +5 or 7 meant that the triad was a diminished fifth or a +diminished seventh chord; a cross indicated a leading +tone; a 4 stood for the third inversion of the dominant +seventh chord. This system of shorthand, as it may be +<a class="pagebreak" name="page238" id="page238" title="238"></a> +called, was and is still of tremendous value to composers. +In the olden days, particularly, when many of the composers +engraved their own music for publication, it saved +a great deal of labour. It is probably not generally known +that the engraving of music by the composer was so +common; but such was the case with Bach, Rameau, and +Couperin. +</p> + +<p> +And this reminds me that the embellishments, as they +were called, which are so common in all harpsichord and +clavichord music, were also noted in a kind of shorthand, +and for precisely the same reason. The embellishments +themselves originated from the necessity for sustaining in +some way the tone of the instrument, which gave out little, +dry, clicklike sounds; if the melody were played in simple +notes, these sounds would mingle with the accompaniment +and be lost in it. Therefore, the embellishments served to +sustain the tones of the melody, and thus cause them to +stand out from the accompaniment. Their notation by +means of symbols copied from the primitive <i>neumes</i> vastly +facilitated the work of engraving. Much confusion arose +in the notation of embellishments, owing to the fact that +each composer had his own system of symbols. +</p> + +<p> +Alessandro Scarlatti and his son Domenico, both celebrated +in their day, are the next to demand attention. +The former was born about 1650 and died about 1725. He +wrote many operas of which we know practically nothing. +His son was born about 1685 and died in 1757. He was +the most celebrated harpsichord player of his time; and +although his style, which was essentially one of virtuosity, +was not productive of direct results, it did nevertheless +<a class="pagebreak" name="page239" id="page239" title="239"></a> +foreshadow the wonderful technical achievements of Liszt +in our own times. It is indeed a great pity that Domenico +Scarlatti's work did not bear more direct fruit in his +day, for it would have turned Mozart, as well as many +others, from the loose, clumsy mannerisms of the later +virtuoso style, which ran to the Alberti bass and other +degrading platitudes, paralleled in our comparatively +modern days by the Thalberg arpeggios, repeating notes, +Döhler trill, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Two masters in music, Händel and J.S. Bach, were +born the same year, 1685; their great French contemporary, +Rameau, was born two years earlier and died in 1764; +while Händel died in 1759, and Bach in 1750. Bach was +destined to give to the world its first glimpse of the tremendous +power of music, while Rameau organized the +elements of music into a scientific harmonic structure, +laying the foundation for our modern harmony. Händel's +great achievement (besides being a fine composer) was to +crush all life out of the then promising school of English +music, the foundation for which had been so well laid by +Purcell, Byrd, Morley, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Philippe Rameau was born in Dijon, and after +travels in Italy and a short period of service as organist at +Clermont, in Auvergne, went to Paris. There he wrote a +number of small vaudevilles or musical comedies, which +were successful; and his music for the harpsichord, consisting +almost exclusively of small pieces with descriptive +titles, soon began to be widely played in France. Much +later in life he succeeded in obtaining a hearing for his +operas, the first of which, “Hippolyte et Aricie,” was given +<a class="pagebreak" name="page240" id="page240" title="240"></a> +in 1732, when he was fifty years old. For thirty-two years +his operas continued to hold the French stage against +those of all foreigners. +</p> + +<p> +His style marked a great advance over that of Lully, the +Italian, of the century before. Rameau aimed at clearness +of diction and was one of the first to attempt to give +individuality to the different orchestral instruments. By +some strange coincidence, his first opera had much the +same dramatic situation that all the early operas seemed +to have, namely, a scene in the infernal regions. Rameau's +operas never became the foundation for a distinctly +French opera, for at the time of his death (1764), Italian +opera troupes had already introduced a kind of comedy +with music, which rapidly developed into opéra comique; +it was reserved for Gluck, the German, to revive grand +opera in France. +</p> + +<p> +As a theoretician, Rameau exerted tremendous influence +upon music. He discovered that the chord which we call +the perfect major triad was not merely the result of an +artificial training of the ear to like certain combinations +of sounds, but that this chord was inherent in every +musical sound, constituting, as it does, the first four +harmonics or overtones. All chords, therefore, that were +not composed of thirds placed one above the other, were +inversions of fundamental chords. This theory holds good +in the general harmonic system of to-day. But although +the major triad and even the dominant seventh chord +could be traced back to the harmonics, the minor triad +proved a different matter; after many experiments Rameau +gave it up, leaving it unaccounted for. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page241" id="page241" title="241"></a> +Rameau was also largely instrumental in gaining recognition +for the desirability of dividing the octave into +twelve equal parts, making all the so-called half-tones +recur at mathematically equal distances from each other +in the chromatic scale. In 1737 his work on the generation +of chords through overtones caused the equal temperament +system of tuning to be generally accepted, and +the old modes, with the exception of the Ionian and +Æolian, to be dropped out of use. The former became +known as major and the latter as minor, from the third, +which was large in the Ionian and small in the Æolian. +</p> + +<p> +Händel, as before stated, was born in 1685 (February 23), +in Halle, in the same year as J.S. Bach, who was a month +younger (born March 21). His father was a barber, who, +as was common in those days, combined the trade of +surgery, cupping, etc., with that of hairdressing. He +naturally opposed his son's bent toward music, but with +no effect. At fifteen years of age, Händel was beginning +to be well known as a clavichord and organ player, in +the latter capacity becoming specially celebrated for his +wonderful improvisations. In spite of an attempt to +make a lawyer of him, he persisted in taking music as +his vocation, after the death of his father. +</p> + +<p> +<a name="ft15"></a>In Hamburg, whither he went in 1703, he obtained a +place among the second violins in the opera +orchestra.<a class="fn" href="#fn15"> 15 </a> +Realizing that in Germany opera was but a reflection of +Italian art, he left Hamburg in 1707 and went to Italy, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page242" id="page242" title="242"></a> +where he soon began to make a name for himself, both as +performer and composer. One of his operas, “Agrippa,” +was performed at Venice during the Carnival season +of 1710. +</p> + +<p> +The Hanoverian kapellmeister, Staffani, was present and +invited him to Hanover, whither he went, becoming +Staffani's successor in the service of the Elector of Hanover. +Several trips to England, where he was warmly welcomed, +resulted in his accepting from Queen Anne, in 1713, a +salary of two hundred pounds yearly, thus entering her +service, notwithstanding his contract with the Elector. +In 1714 the Queen died, and the Elector of Hanover was +called to the English throne under the title of George I. +Händel, in order to escape the impending disgrace occasioned +by having broken faith with his former employer, +wrote some music intended to be particularly persuasive, +and had it played on a barge that followed a royal procession +up the Thames. This “Water Music,” as it was +called, procured for him the King's pardon. +</p> + +<p> +From this time he lived in England, practically monopolizing +all that was done in music. In 1720 a company +for the giving of Italian opera was formed, and Händel +placed at its head. In 1727, on the occasion of the accession +of George II, Händel wrote four anthems, one of +which “Zadok the Priest,” ends with the words “God +save the King,” from which it has been erroneously stated +that he wrote the English national hymn. +</p> + +<p> +In 1737 Händel gave up the writing of operas, after +sinking most of his own savings in the undertaking, and +began to write oratorios, the germs of which are found +<a class="pagebreak" name="page243" id="page243" title="243"></a> +in the old Mysteries and Passion plays performed on a +platform erected in the chapel or oratory of a church. +Much has been written about Händel's habit of taking +themes from other composers, and he was even dubbed +the “grand old robber.” It must not be overlooked, however, +that although he made use of ideas from other +composers, he turned them to the best account. By 1742 +Händel was again in prosperous circumstances, his “Messiah” +having been a tremendous success. From that +time until his death he held undisputed sway, although his +last years were clouded by a trouble with his eyes, which +were operated upon unsuccessfully by an English oculist, +named Taylor, who had also operated on Bach's eyes with +the same disastrous result. Händel became completely +blind in 1752. Up to the last year of his life he continued +to give oratorio concerts and played organ concertos, +of which only the <i>tutti</i> were noted, he improvising his +part. +</p> + +<p> +Händel's strength lay in his great ability to produce +overwhelming effects by comparatively simple means. +This is especially the case in his great choruses which are +massive in effect and yet simple to the verge of barrenness. +This, of course, has no reference to the absurd <i>fioriture</i> +and long passage work given to the voices,—an Italian +fashion of the times,—but to the contrapuntal texture of +the work. Of his oratorios, “The Messiah” is the best +known. Two of his “Concerti Grossi,” the third and +sixth, are sometimes played by string orchestras. Of his +harpsichord music we have the eight “Suites” of 1720 +(among which the one in E is known as having the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page244" id="page244" title="244"></a> +variations called “The Harmonious Blacksmith”), and a +number of “Harpsichord Lessons,” among which are six +fugues. All these may be said to have little value. +</p> + +<p> +J.S. Bach differed in almost every respect from Händel, +except that he was born in the same year and was killed by +the same doctor. While Händel left no pupils, with perhaps +the exception of his assistant organist, Bach aided +and taught his own celebrated sons, Krebs, Agricola, +Kittel, Kirnberger, Marpurg, and many other distinguished +musicians. Bach twice made an effort to see Händel at +Halle, but without success. On the other hand, there are +reasons for believing that Händel never took the trouble +to examine any of Bach's clavichord music. He lived like +a conqueror in a foreign land, writing operas, oratorios, and +concertos to order, and stealing ideas right and left without +compunction; whereas Bach wrote from conviction, and +no charge of plagiarism was ever laid at his door. Händel +left a great fortune of twenty thousand pounds. Bach's +small salary at the St. Thomas Church in Leipzig made it +necessary for him to do much of his own engraving; and +at his death, though he had helped many young struggling +artists, his widow was left so poor that she had to be +supported by public benevolence. Bach's works were +neglected by his contemporaries, and it was only in the +nineteenth century that he began to be appreciated in a +way commensurate with his worth. +</p> + +<p> +Bach was born in Eisenach, in Thuringia, and it is of +interest to know that as far back as his great grandfather, +Veit Bach (born about 1550), music had been the profession +of the family. Bach's parents died when he was +<a class="pagebreak" name="page245" id="page245" title="245"></a> +a boy of ten, and his education was continued by his +elder brother, Johann Christoph, at a town near Gotha, +where he held a position as organist. The boy soon outstripped +his brother in learning, and continued his studies +wholly by himself. +</p> + +<p> +After filling a position as organist at Weimar, in 1703 +he accepted one at a small town, Arnstadt, at a salary of +about fifty-seven dollars yearly. He had already begun to +compose, and possibly in imitation of Kuhnau, whose so-called +“Bible” sonatas were at the time being talked +about, he wrote an elaborate clavichord piece to illustrate +the departure of his brother, Johann Jakob, who had +entered the service of Charles XII of Sweden as oboist. +This composition is divided into five parts, each bearing +an appropriate superscription and ending with an elaborate +fugue to illustrate the postillion's horn. I believe +this is the only instance of his having written actual +programme music. After leaving Arnstadt he filled positions +as organist at Mühlhausen, Weimar, Coethen, etc. +It was before 1720 that he paid his two visits to Halle in +the hope of seeing Händel. At this time he had already +written the first part of the “Wohltemperierte Clavier,” +the violin sonatas, and many other great works. Ten +years later, when Händel again came to Germany, Bach +was too ill to go to see him personally, but sent his eldest +son to invite Händel to come and see him, although without +success. +</p> + +<p> +In 1723 he obtained the position of Cantor at the St. +Thomas School, in Leipzig, left vacant by the death of +Kuhnau; here he remained until his death. In 1749 the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page246" id="page246" title="246"></a> +English oculist, Taylor, happened to be in Leipzig. On +the advice of friends, Bach submitted to an operation on +his eyes, which had always troubled him. The failure of +this operation rendered him totally blind and the accompanying +medical treatment completely broke him down. +On the eighteenth of July, 1750, he suddenly regained his +sight, but it was accompanied by a stroke of paralysis +from which he died ten days later. +</p> + +<p> +So far as his church music is concerned, Bach may +be considered as the Protestant compeer of the Roman +Catholic, Palestrina, with the difference that his music +was based on the tonalities of major and minor and that +his harmonic structure was founded on a scientific basis. +What is mere wandering in Palestrina, with Bach is +moving steadily forward with a well-defined object in +view. With Bach, music is cast in the definite mould +of tonality, while with Palestrina the vagueness of the +modes lends to his music something of mystery and a +certain supernatural freedom from <i>human will</i>, so prominent +a characteristic of Bach's compositions. In considering +Bach's music we must forget the technique, +which was merely the outside dress of his compositions. +His style was the one of the period, just as he wore a wig, +and buckles on his shoes. His music must not be confounded +with the contrapuntal style of his utterance, and +although he has never been surpassed as a scientific writer +of counterpoint, it would be unjust to look there for his +chief glory. As a matter of fact, when his scientific +speech threatened to clash with the musical idea in his +composition, he never hesitated to sacrifice the former to +<a class="pagebreak" name="page247" id="page247" title="247"></a> +the latter. Thus Bach may be considered the greatest +musical scientist of his time as well as the greatest breaker +of mere rules. +</p> + +<p> +Of his sons, Carl Philipp Emanuel is the most celebrated, +and did much to prepare the way for Haydn in +the development of the sonata. J.S. Bach wrote many +sonatas, but none for the clavichord; his sonatas were for +the violin and the 'cello alone, a great innovation. The +violin sonatas bring into play all the resources of the +instrument; indeed it is barely possible to do them justice +from the technical standpoint. His “Wohltemperierte +Clavier” naturally was a tremendous help to clavichord +technique, and even now the “Chromatic Fantaisie” and +other works require fine pianists to perform them properly. +</p> + +<p> +In considering the development of music, it must always +be remembered that Haydn, Mozart, and their contemporaries +knew little or nothing of Bach's works, thus +accounting for what otherwise would seem a retrograde +movement in art. C.P.E. Bach (born 1714) was much +better known than his father; even Mozart said of him, +“He is the father, and we are mere children.” He was +renowned as a harpsichord player, and wrote many sonatas +which form the connecting link between the suite and +the sonata. He threw aside the polyphonic style of his +father and strove to give his music new colour and warmth +by means of harmony and modulation. He died in 1788 +in Hamburg, where he was conductor of the opera. It +should be mentioned that he wrote a method of clavichord +playing on which, in later days, Czerny said that Beethoven +based his piano teaching. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page248" id="page248" title="248"></a> +Up to the period now under consideration, music for the +orchestra occupied a very small part in the composer's +work. To be sure, J.S. Bach wrote some suites, and +separate movements were written in the different dance +forms for violins, with sometimes the addition of a few +reed instruments, and possibly flutes and small horns or +trumpets. It is in the works of C.P.E. Bach, however, +that we find the germ of symphonic orchestral writing that +was to be developed by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. +The so-called “symphonies” by Emanuel Bach are +merely rudimentary sonatas written for strings, with +flutes, oboes, bassoons, trumpets, etc., and have practically +no artistic significance except as showing the inevitable +trend of musical thought toward greater power of expression. +In Germany (and indeed everywhere else) the +Italian element had full sway over opera, and non-Italian +musicians were forced into writing for the concert room +instead of the stage. Even Beethoven had many disappointments +in connection with his one opera “Fidelio,” +and so strong was the Italian influence, that here in America +we are only just now (1897) recovering from the effects +of it. +</p> + +<p> +Franz Joseph Haydn was born near Vienna, in 1732, of +humble parents, his mother a cook in a count's family, +and his father a wheelwright and sexton of the parish +church. When a young boy Haydn had a fine voice, on +account of which he was admitted as a member of the choir +at St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna. This entitled him +to admission to St. Stephen's School, connected with the +cathedral, in which the city paid for the board and lodging +<a class="pagebreak" name="page249" id="page249" title="249"></a> +as well as the instruction of the singers. When the boys' +voices changed or “broke,” however, they were turned +adrift. On leaving the cathedral, Haydn suffered the +direst poverty, engaging himself at one time as valet to +the Italian singing teacher, Porpora, in order to secure +some lessons. +</p> + +<p> +He gradually managed to make himself known, and was +engaged by Count Morzin, a rich nobleman, to organize +an orchestra of about eighteen, which the count retained +in his service with Haydn as leader. Here he wrote his +first symphony (for strings, two oboes and two horns, in +three movements) and a number of smaller works. When +he was twenty-nine, Count Morzin gave up his establishment +and Haydn entered the service of Prince Paul +Esterhazy, in Eisenstadt, Hungary, in the same capacity. +Here he had an orchestra of sixteen, composed of good +musicians, whom he could call up at any hour of the night +to play if he wished, and over whom he had complete +control. Although the contract by which he was engaged +names the most degrading conditions, and places Haydn +on a par with all the other servants, the pay, though small +(two hundred dollars yearly), was certain and regular. +From this time Haydn was free from the hardships of +poverty. His salary was soon increased to five hundred +dollars, and he made as much more from his compositions. +He wrote over one hundred and twenty-five symphonies, +sixty-eight trios, seventy-seven quartets, fifty-seven concertos, +fifty-seven sonatas, eight oratorios and cantatas, +and nineteen operas, besides innumerable smaller things, +for instance, between five hundred and six hundred vocal +<a class="pagebreak" name="page250" id="page250" title="250"></a> +pieces. His operas, of course, are mere trifles compared +with our more modern ones. +</p> + +<p> +His friendship for Mozart is well known. As for his +relations with Beethoven, it is probable that their disagreement +was merely the effect of pride, and perhaps a +certain amount of laziness on one side and youthful +bumptiousness on the other. Haydn was returning to +Vienna <i>via</i> Bonn, from England, where he had been welcomed +by the wildest enthusiasm, when Beethoven called +on him to ask for his opinion as to his talent as a +composer. It resulted in Beethoven's going to Vienna. +After taking a few lessons of Haydn he went to another +teacher and made all manner of contemptuous remarks +about Haydn, declaring he had not learned anything from +him. +</p> + +<p> +After two highly successful visits to England, in 1792 +and 1794, Haydn returned to Vienna and wrote his two +celebrated cantatas, “The Creation” and “The Seasons.” +His last appearance in public was when he attended a +performance of “The Creation” in 1808, at the age of +seventy-six. He was received with a fanfare of trumpets +and cheers from the audience. After the first part he +was obliged to leave, and as he was being carried out by +his friends, he turned at the door and lifted his hands +towards the orchestra, as if in benediction; Beethoven +kissed his hand, and everyone paid him homage. He +died during the bombardment of Vienna by the French, +May 31, 1809. +</p> + +<p> +Haydn's later symphonies have been very cleverly compared +with those of Beethoven by the statement that the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page251" id="page251" title="251"></a> +latter wrote tragedies and great dramas, whereas Haydn +wrote comedies and charming farces. As a matter of fact, +Haydn is the bridge between the idealized dance and +independent music. Although Beethoven still retained +the form of the dance, he wrote great poems, whereas the +music of Haydn always preserves a tinge of the actual +dance. With Haydn, music was still an art consisting +of the weaving together of pretty sounds, and although +<i>design</i>, that is to say, the development of the emotional +character of a musical thought, was by no means unknown +to him, that development was never permitted to transcend +the limits of a certain graceful euphony which was a +marked characteristic of his style. His use of orchestral +instruments represents a marked advance on that of +C.P.E. Bach, and certainly very materially helped +Mozart. +</p> + +<p> +Of Mozart we probably all know something. Born at +Salzburg, in 1756, his was a short life, for he died in 1791. +We know of his great precocity; his first compositions +were published when he was six years old, at which age +he was already playing in concerts with his eleven-year old +sister, and was made much of by the titled people before +whom he played. The rest of his life is one continual +chronicle of concerts given all over Europe, interrupted at +intervals by scarlet fever, smallpox, and other illnesses, +until the last one, typhoid fever, caused his death. During +his stay in Italy he wrote many operas in the flowery +Italian style which, luckily, have never been revived to +tarnish his name. +</p> + +<p> +His first works worthy of mention are the clavier +<a class="pagebreak" name="page252" id="page252" title="252"></a> +concertos and several symphonies and quartets, which date +from about 1777. His first important opera is “Idomeneo, +King of Crete,” written for the Munich opera. In this he +adopts the principles of Gluck, thus breaking away from +the wretched style of the Italian opera of the period, +although the work itself was written in Italian. His next +opera was in German, “Die Entführung aus dem Serail,” +and was given with great success at Vienna, in 1782. It +was followed by “The Marriage of Figaro,” “Don Juan,” +and the “Magic Flute.” +</p> + +<p> +The story of his death is well known. A stranger, who +turned out to be the steward of Count Walsegg, came to +him and ordered a requiem, which was played in 1793 as +Walsegg's own composition. Mozart thought the man a +messenger from the other world. He died before he +completed the work. So great was his poverty that it +was difficult to get a priest to attend him, and a physician +who was summoned would come only after the play +he was attending was ended. He had a “third class” +funeral, and as a fierce storm was raging, no one accompanied +the body to the grave. His widow gave a concert, +and with the help of the Emperor money enough was raised +to pay the outstanding debts. +</p> + +<p> +It is difficult to give an adequate idea of Mozart's +works. He possessed a certain simple charm of expression +which, in its directness, has an element of pathos lacking +in the comparatively jolly light-heartedness of Haydn. +German opera profited much from his practically adopting +the art principles of Gluck, although it must be confessed +that this change in style may have been simply a phase +<a class="pagebreak" name="page253" id="page253" title="253"></a> +of his own individual art development. His later symphonies +and operas show us the man at his best. His +piano works and early operas show the effect of the +“virtuoso” style, with all its empty concessions to technical +display and commonplace, ear-catching melody. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="fn"><span><a href="#ft15"> 15 </a></span><a name="fn15"></a> +At that time the harpsichord player was a very important +member of an orchestra, as he accompanied the recitative from +figured bass and was practically the conductor. On one occasion +when the harpsichordist was absent Händel took his place with so +much success that it paved the way for a hearing of his operas.</p> + + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page254" id="page254" title="254"></a> +XX<br /><br /> +DECLAMATION IN MUSIC</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">There</span> +is one side of music which I am convinced has +never been fully studied, namely, the relation between it +and declamation. As we know, music is a language which +may delineate actual occurrences by means of onomatopoetic +sounds. By the use of more or less suggestive +sounds, it may bring before our minds a quasi-visual image +of things which we more or less definitely feel. +</p> + +<p> +Now to do all this, there must be rules; or, to put it more +broadly, there must be some innate quality that enables +this art of sounds to move in sympathy with our feelings. +I have no wish to go into detailed analysis of the subject; +but a superficial survey of it may clear up certain points +with regard to the potency of music that we are too often +willing to refer back to the mere pleasing physical sensations +of sound. +</p> + +<p> +Some consideration of this subject may enable us to +understand the much discussed question of programme +music. It may also help us to recognize the astonishing +advance we have made in the art; an advance, which, +strange to say, consists in successively throwing off all +the trammels and conventionalities of what is generally +considered artificial, and the striking development of an +art which, with all its astounding wealth of exterior means, +aims at the expression of elemental sensations. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page255" id="page255" title="255"></a> +Music may be divided into four classes, each class +marking an advance in receptive power on the part of +the listener and poetic subtlety on that of the composer. +We may liken the first stage to that of the savage Indians +who depict their exploits in war and peace on the rocks, +fragments of bone, etc. If the painter has in mind, say, +an elephant, he carves it so that its principal characteristics +are vastly exaggerated. A god in such delineation +is twice the size of the ordinary man, and so it is in descriptive +music. For instance, in Beethoven's “Pastoral” +symphony, the cuckoo is not a bird which mysteriously +hides itself far away in a thicket, the sound of whose voice +comes to one like a strange, abrupt call from the darkness +of the forest; no, it is unmistakably a cuckoo, reminding +one strangely of those equally advanced and extremely +cheap art products of Nuremberg, made of pine wood, +and furnished with a movable tail. +</p> + +<p> +The next stage is still a question of delineation; but of +delineation that leads us into strange countries, and the +sounds we hear are but the small door through which +we pass. This music <i>suggests</i>; by way of example, the +opening of the last movement of the “Pastoral” symphony, +the march from Tchaïkovsky's “Symphonie Pathétique,” +the opening of Raff's “Im Walde,” and Goldmark's +“Sakuntala.” Such music hints, and there is a +certain potency in its suggestion which makes us see +things. These two divisions of music have been termed +“programme” or “objective” music. +</p> + +<p> +The other two classes of music have been termed subjective. +The first is declamation, pure and simple; the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page256" id="page256" title="256"></a> +singer may be telling a lie, or his sentiment may be insincere +or false; what these sounds stand for, we know from +the words, their grade of passion, etc. The last phase +of our art is much more subtle, and is not amenable to +such accurate analysis. If we may liken music to painting, +we may, I think, compare the latter to the first three +stages of this new language of music; but it can go no +further. For that art must touch its audience through a +palpable delineation of something more or less material; +whereas music is of the stuff dreams are made of. It is +hardly necessary to say, however, that our dreams are +often much more poignant than the actual sensations +caused by real occurrences would be. And it is because +of this strange quality, I think, that dreams and music +affect us in much the same manner. +</p> + +<p> +The vital principle of Wagner's art was that he not only +made startlingly vivid pictures in his music, but that he +made the people in these pictures actually walk out of the +frame and directly address the audience. In other words, +his orchestra forms a kind of pictorial and psychological +background from which his characters detach themselves +and actually speak. If they speak falsely, the ever present +orchestra, forming as it were a halo, unmercifully tears +away the mask, like the mirror in old fairy tales. +</p> + +<p> +In Wagner's operas, however, the intrusion of gross +palpable machinery of the stage, as well as that of the +actor's art, too often clouds the perfect working of this +wonderful art conception. It is just this intrusion of +materialism in Wagner's music dramas which constitutes +their only weakness. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page257" id="page257" title="257"></a> +At this point I wish to insist upon the fact that in music +it is always through declamation that the public is addressed +most directly; not only that, but declamation is +not necessarily tied by any of the fetters of the spoken +word; nor is it subservient to any of the laws of articulate +speech as we meet with them in language. This being +admitted, I have no hesitation in giving my opinion that +opera, or rather the music drama, is not the highest or the +most perfect form of our art. The music drama as represented +by Wagner (and he alone represents it) is the most +perfect union of painting, poetry, and music imaginable +to our nineteenth-century minds. But as regards representing +the highest development of music, I find it too +much hampered by the externals of art, necessary materialism +in the production of palpable acts, and its enforced +subjection to the laws that govern the spoken word. +</p> + +<p> +Music is universal; Wagner's operas, by the inherent +necessities of speech, are necessarily and irrevocably +Germanic. “Les Maitres Chanteurs,” “The Dwarfs +of Niebelheim,” “Elizabeta,” are impossibilities, whereas, +for instance, Beethoven's “Eroica” labours under no such +disadvantage. “Goodbye, My Dearest Swan,” invests +part of “Lohengrin” with a certain grotesque colour that +no one would ever dream of if there were no necessity for +the singer to be tied down to the exigencies of palpable +and certainly most materialistic language. The thought +in itself is beautiful, but the necessity for the words drags +it into the mud. +</p> + +<p> +This certainly shows the difference between the language +of music and what is called articulate speech, the purely +<a class="pagebreak" name="page258" id="page258" title="258"></a> +symbolic and artificial character of the latter, and the +direct, unhampered utterance of the former. Music can +invariably heighten the poignancy of mere spoken words +(which mean nothing in themselves), but words can but +rarely, in fact I doubt whether they can ever, heighten +the effect of musical declamation. To my mind, listening +to Wagner's operas may be likened to watching a circus +with three rings. That containing the music should have +our closest attention, for it offers the most wonderful sounds +ever imagined by any man. At the same time it is impossible +for any human being not to have his attention +often lured away to the other rings, in one of which Fricke's +rams vie with the bird and the dragon; or where the phantom +ship seems as firmly fixed as the practical rainbow, +which so closely betrays the carpenter. In the other ring +you can actually hear the dull jokes of Mimi and the +Wanderer, or hear Walther explain that he has passed a +comfortable night and slept well. +</p> + +<p> +The music to these remarkable scenes, however, does +not deign to stoop so low, but soars in wonderful poetry by +itself, thus rejecting a union which, to speak in the jargon +of our day, is one of the convincing symptoms of decadence; +in other words, it springs from the same impulse +as that which has produced the circus with three rings. +</p> + +<p> +Summing up, I wish to state what I consider the four elements +of music, namely, music that paints, music that suggests, +music that actually speaks, and music that almost +defies analysis, and is composed of the other three elements. +</p> + +<p> +When we were considering the early works for harpsichord, +I said that music could define certain things with +<a class="pagebreak" name="page259" id="page259" title="259"></a> +quite reasonable exactitude. Just as in the Egyptian +hieroglyphics a wavy line stands for water, so it can in +music, with the latitude that it can mean anything in +nature that we might consider of the same genre. Thus, +the figure in Wagner's “Waldweben” means in that +instance waves of air, and we know it by the context. +His swaying figure of the “Prelude to Rheingold” is as +plainly water as is the same figure used by Mendelssohn +in his “Lovely Melusina.” Not that Wagner plagiarized, +but that he and Mendelssohn recognized the definiteness +of musical suggestions; which is more than proved by +their adopting the same musical ideas to indicate the same +things. +</p> + +<p> +More indefinite is the analysis of our second type or +element of music. The successful recognition of this +depends not only upon the susceptibility of the hearer to +delicate shades of sensation, but also upon the receptivity +of the hearer and his power to accept freely and unrestrictedly +the mood shadowed forth by the composer. +Such music cannot be looked upon objectively. To those +who would analyze it in such a manner it must remain an +unknown language; its potency depends entirely upon a +state of willing subjectivity on the part of the hearer. +</p> + +<p> +The third element, as we know, consists of the spoken +word or phrase; in other words, declamation. In this, +however, the composer cuts loose entirely from what we +call language. It is the medium of expression of emotion +of every kind. It is not restricted to the voice or to +any instrument, or even to our sharps, flats, and naturals. +Through stress of emotion the sharps become sharper, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page260" id="page260" title="260"></a> +with depression the flats become flatter, thus adding +poignancy to the declamation. Being unfettered by +words, this emotion has free rein. The last element, as I +have said, is extremely difficult to define. It is declamation +that suggests and paints at the same time. We find +hardly a bar of Wagner's music in which this complex +form of music is not present. Thus, the music dramas of +Wagner, shorn of the fetters of the actual spoken word, +emancipated from the materialism of acting, painting, and +furniture, may be considered as the greatest achievement +in our art, an art that does not include the spoken word +called poetry, or painting, or sculpture, and most decidedly +not architecture (form), but the essence of all these. +What these aim to do through passive exterior influences, +music accomplishes by actual living vibration. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page261" id="page261" title="261"></a> +XXI<br /><br /> +SUGGESTION IN MUSIC</h2> + +<p> +<span class="first">In</span> +speaking of the power of suggestion in music I wish +at the outset to make certain reservations. In the first +place I speak for myself, and what I have to present is +merely an expression of my personal opinion; if in any +way these should incite to further investigation or discussion, +my object will in part have been attained. +</p> + +<p> +In the second place, in speaking of this art, one is seriously +hampered by a certain difficulty in making oneself +understood. To hear and to enjoy music seems sufficient +to many persons, and an investigation as to the causes of +this enjoyment seems to them superfluous. And yet, unless +the public comes into closer touch with the tone poet than +that objective state Which accepts with the ears what is +intended for the spirit, which hears the sounds and is deaf +to their import, unless the public can separate the physical +pleasure of music from its ideal significance, our art, in +my opinion, cannot stand on a sound basis. +</p> + +<p> +The first step toward an appreciation of music should +be taken in our preparatory schools. Were young people +taught to distinguish between tones as between colours, +to recognize rhythmic values, and were they taught so to +use their voices as to temper the nasal tones of speech, +in after life they would be better able to appreciate and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page262" id="page262" title="262"></a> +cherish an art of which mere pleasure-giving sounds are +but a very small part. +</p> + +<p> +Much of the lack of independence of opinion about +music arises from want of familiarity with its material. +Thus, after dinner, our forefathers were accustomed to +sing catches which were entirely destitute of anything +approaching music. +</p> + +<p> +Music contains certain elements which affect the nerves +of the mind and body, and thus possesses the power of +direct appeal to the public,—a power to a great extent +denied to the other arts. This sensuous influence over the +hearer is often mistaken for the aim and end of all music. +With this in mind, one may forgive the rather puzzling +remarks so often met with; for instance, those of a certain +English bishop that “Music did not affect him either +intellectually or emotionally, only pleasurably,” adding, +“Every art should keep within its own realm; and that of +music was concerned with pleasing combinations of sound.” +In declaring that the sensation of hearing music was +pleasant to him, and that to produce that sensation was +the entire mission of music, the Bishop placed our art on a +level with good things to eat and drink. Many colleges +and universities of this land consider music as a kind of +<i>boutonnière</i>. +</p> + +<p> +This estimate of music is, I believe, unfortunately a +very general one, and yet, low as it is, there is a possibility +of building on such a foundation. Could such persons be +made to recognize the existence of decidedly unpleasant +music, it would be the first step toward a proper appreciation +of the art and its various phases. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page263" id="page263" title="263"></a> +Mere beauty of sound is, in itself, purely sensuous. It +is the Chinese conception of music that the texture of a +sound is to be valued; the long, trembling tone-tint of a +bronze gong, or the high, thin streams of sound from the +pipes are enjoyed for their ear-filling qualities. In the +<i>Analects</i> of Confucius and the writings of Mencius there +is much mention of music, and “harmony of sound that +shall fill the ears” is insisted upon. The Master said, +“When the music maker Che first entered on his office, the +finish with the Kwan Ts'eu was magnificent. How it +filled the ears!” Père Amiot says, “Music must fill the +ears to penetrate the soul.” Referring to the playing of +some pieces by Couperin on a spinet, he says that Chinese +hearers thought these pieces barbarous; the movement +was too rapid, and did not allow sufficient time for them +to enjoy each tone by itself. Now this is colour without +form, or sound without music. For it to become music, +it must possess some quality which will remove it from +the purely sensuous. To my mind, it is in the power of +suggestion that the vital spark of music lies. +</p> + +<p> +Before speaking of this, however, I wish to touch upon +two things: first, on what is called the science of music; +and secondly, on one of the sensuous elements of music +which enters into and encroaches upon all suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +If one were called upon to define what is called the +intellectual side of music, he would probably speak of +“form,” contrapuntal design, and the like. Let us take up +the matter of form. If by the word “form” our theorists +meant the most poignant expression of poetic thought +in music, if they meant by this word the art of arranging +<a class="pagebreak" name="page264" id="page264" title="264"></a> +musical sounds into the most telling presentation of a +musical idea, I should have nothing to say: for if this were +admitted instead of the recognized forms of modern +theorists for the proper utterance, we should possess a +study of the power of musical sounds which might truly +justify the title of musical intellectuality. As it is, the +word “form” stands for what have been called “stoutly +built periods,” “subsidiary themes,” and the like, a +happy combination of which in certain prescribed keys was +supposed to constitute good form. Such a device, originally +based upon the necessities and fashions of the dance, +and changing from time to time, is surely not worthy +of the strange worship it has received. A form of so +doubtful an identity that the first movement of a certain +Beethoven sonata can be dubbed by one authority +“sonata-form,” and by another “free fantasia,” certainly +cannot lay claim to serious intellectual value. +</p> + +<p> +Form should be a synonym for <i>coherence</i>. No idea, +whether great or small, can find utterance without form, +but that form will be inherent to the idea, and there will +be as many forms as there are adequately expressed ideas. +In the musical idea, <i>per se</i>, analysis will reveal form. +</p> + +<p> +The term “contrapuntal development” is to most tone +poets of the present day a synonym for the device of giving +expression to a musically poetic idea. <i>Per se</i>, counterpoint +is a puerile juggling with themes, which may be likened +to high-school mathematics. Certainly the entire web +and woof of this “science,” as it is called, never sprang +from the necessities of poetic musical utterance. The +entire pre-Palestrina literature of music is a conclusive +<a class="pagebreak" name="page265" id="page265" title="265"></a> +testimony as to the non-poetic and even uneuphonious +character of the invention. +</p> + +<p> +In my opinion, Johann Sebastian Bach, one of the +world's mightiest tone poets, accomplished his mission, +not by means of the contrapuntal fashion of his age, but +in spite of it. The laws of canon and fugue are based +upon as prosaic a foundation as those of the rondo and +sonata form; I find it impossible to imagine their ever having +been a spur, or an incentive to poetic musical speech. +Neither, pure tonal beauty, so-called “form,” nor what is +termed the intellectual side of music (the art of counterpoint, +canon, and fugue), constitutes a really vital factor +in music. This narrows our analysis down to two things, +namely, the physical effect of musical sound, and suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +The simplest manifestations of the purely sensuous +effect of sound are to be found in the savage's delight in +noise. In the more civilized state, this becomes the sensation +of mere pleasure in hearing pleasing sounds. It +enters into folk song in the form of the “Scotch snap,” +which is first cousin to the Swiss <i>jodel</i>, and is undoubtedly +the origin of the skips of the augmented and (to a lesser +degree) diminished intervals to be found in the music of +many nations. It consists of the trick of alternating chest +tones with falsetto. It is a kind of quirk in the voice +which pleases children and primitive folk alike, a simple +thing which has puzzled folklorists the world over. +</p> + +<p> +The other sensuous influence of sound is one of the most +powerful elements of music, and all musical utterance is +involved with and inseparable from it. It consists of +repetition, recurrence, periodicity. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page266" id="page266" title="266"></a> +Now this repetition may be one of rhythm, tone tint, +texture, or colour, a repetition of figure or of pitch. We +know that savages, in their incantation ceremonies, keep +up a continuous drum beating or chant which, gradually +increasing in violence, drives the hearers into such a state +of frenzy that physical pain seems no longer to exist for +them. +</p> + +<p> +The value of the recurring rhythms and phrases of the +march is well recognized in the army. A body of men will +instinctively move in cadence with such music. The ever +recurring lilt of a waltz rhythm will set the feet moving +unconsciously, and as the energy of the repetition increases +and decreases, so will the involuntary accompanying physical +sympathy increase or decrease. +</p> + +<p> +Berlioz jokingly tells a story of a ballet dancer who objected +to the high pitch in which the orchestra played, and +insisted that the music be transposed to a lower key. +Cradle songs are fashioned on the same principle. +</p> + +<p> +This sensuous sympathy with recurring sounds, rhythm, +and pitch has something in common with hypnotism, +and leads up to what I have called suggestion in music. +</p> + +<p> +This same element in a modified form is made use of in +poetry, for instance, in Poe's “Raven,” +</p> + +<blockquote><p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth the raven, nevermore,</span> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="cont"> +and the repetition of colour in the same author's “Scarlet +Death.” It is the mainspring (I will not call it the vital +spark) of many so-called popular songs, the recipe for +which is exceedingly simple. A strongly marked rhythmic +figure is selected, and incessantly repeated until the +hearer's body beats time to it. The well-known tunes +<a class="pagebreak" name="page267" id="page267" title="267"></a> +“There'll Be a Hot Time,” etc., and “Ta-ra-ra, Boom-de-ay” +are good examples of this kind of music. +</p> + +<p> +There are two kinds of suggestion in music: one has been +called tone-painting, the other almost evades analysis. +</p> + +<p> +The term tone-painting is somewhat unsatisfactory, and +reminds one of the French critic who spoke of a poem +as “beautiful painted music.” I believe that music can +suggest forcibly certain things and ideas as well as vague +emotions encased in the so-called “form” and “science” +of music. +</p> + +<p> +If we wish to begin with the most primitive form of suggestion +in music, we shall find it in the direct imitation of +sounds in nature. We remember that Helmholtz, Hanslick, +and their followers denied to music the power to suggest +things in nature; but it was somewhat grudgingly +admitted that music might express the emotions caused +by them. In the face of this, to quote a well-known +instance, we have the “Pastoral” symphony of Beethoven, +with the thrush, cuckoo, and thunderstorm. The birds +and the storm are very plainly indicated; but it is not +possible for the music to be an expression of the emotions +caused by them, for the very simple reason that no emotions +are caused by the cuckoo and thrush, and those +caused by thunderstorms range all the way from depression +and fear to exhilaration, according to the personality +of individuals. +</p> + +<p> +That music may imitate any rhythmic sounds or melodic +figure occurring in nature, hardly needs affirmation. Such +devices may be accepted almost as quotations, and not be +further considered here. The songs of birds, the sound +<a class="pagebreak" name="page268" id="page268" title="268"></a> +made by galloping horses' feet, the moaning of the wind, +etc., are all things which are part and parcel of the musical +vocabulary, intelligible alike to people of every nationality. +I need hardly say that increasing intensity of sound +will suggest vehemence, approach, and its visual synonym, +growth, as well as that decreasing intensity will suggest +withdrawal, dwindling, and placidity. +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion brought about by pattern is very familiar. +It was one of the first signs of the breaking away +from the conventional trammels of the contrapuntal style +of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The first +madrigal of Thomas Weelkes (1590) begins with the words, +“Sit down,” and the musical pattern falls a fifth. The +suggestion was crude, but it was caused by the same +impulse as that which supplied the material for Wagner's +“Waldweben,” Mendelssohn's “Lovely Melusina,” and a +host of other works. +</p> + +<p> +The fact that the pattern of a musical phrase can suggest +kinds of motion may seem strange; but could we, for +example, imagine a spinning song with broken arpeggios? +Should we see a spear thrown or an arrow shot on the +stage and hear the orchestra playing a phrase of an undulating +pattern, we should at once realize the contradiction. +Mendelssohn, Schumann, Wagner, Liszt, and practically +everyone who has written a spinning song, has used +the same pattern to suggest the turning of a wheel. That +such widely different men as Wagner and Mendelssohn +should both have adopted the same pattern to suggest undulating +waves is not a mere chance, but clearly shows +the potency of the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page269" id="page269" title="269"></a> +The suggestion conveyed by means of pitch is one of +the strongest in music. Vibrations increasing beyond two +hundred and fifty trillions a second become luminous. It +is a curious coincidence that our highest vibrating musical +sounds bring with them a well-defined suggestion of light, +and that as the pitch is lowered we get the impression of +ever increasing obscurity. To illustrate this, I have but +to refer you to the Prelude to “Lohengrin.” Had we no +inkling as to its meaning, we should still receive the suggestion +of glittering shapes in the blue ether. +</p> + +<p> +Let us take the opening of the “Im Walde” symphony +by Raff as an example; deep shadow is unmistakably suggested. +Herbert Spencer's theory of the influence of emotion +on pitch is well known and needs no confirmation. +This properly comes under the subject of musical speech, +a matter not to be considered here. Suffice it to say that +the upward tendency of a musical phrase can suggest exaltation, +and that a downward trend may suggest depression, +the intensity of which will depend upon the intervals +used. As an instance we may quote the “Faust” overture +of Wagner, in which the pitch is used emotionally as +well as descriptively. If the meaning I have found in this +phrase seems to you far-fetched, we have but to give a +higher pitch to the motive to render the idea absolutely +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion offered by movement is very obvious, +for music admittedly may be stately, deliberate, hasty, or +furious, it may march or dance, it may be grave or flippant. +</p> + +<p> +Last of all I wish to speak of the suggestion conveyed by +means of tone-tint, the blending of timbre and pitch. It +<a class="pagebreak" name="page270" id="page270" title="270"></a> +is essentially a modern element in music, and in our delight +in this marvellous and potent aid to expression we have +carried it to a point of development at which it threatens +to dethrone what has hitherto been our musical speech, +melody, in favour of what corresponds to the shadow +languages of speech, namely, gesture and facial expression. +Just as these shadow languages of speech may distort or +even absolutely reverse the meaning of the spoken word, +so can tone colour and harmony change the meaning of a +musical phrase. This is at once the glory and the danger +of our modern music. Overwhelmed by the new-found +powers of suggestion in tonal tint and the riot of hitherto +undreamed of orchestral combinations, we are forgetting +that permanence in music depends upon melodic speech. +</p> + +<p> +In my opinion, it is the line, not the colour, that will last. +That harmony is a potent factor in suggestion may be +seen from the fact that Cornelius was able to write an +entire song pitched upon one tone, the accompaniment +being so varied in its harmonies that the listener is deceived +into attributing to that one tone many shades of +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +In all modern music this element is one of the most important. +If we refer again to the “Faust” overture of +Wagner, we will perceive that although the melodic trend +and the pitch of the phrase carry their suggestion, the +roll of the drum which accompanies it throws a sinister +veil over the phrase, making it impressive in the extreme. +</p> + +<p> +The seed from which our modern wealth of harmony +and tone colour sprang was the perfect major triad. The +<ins title="Transcriber's note: corrected from 'raison d'étre'"><i>raison d'être</i></ins> +and development of this combination of tones +<a class="pagebreak" name="page271" id="page271" title="271"></a> +belong to the history of music. Suffice it to say, that for +some psychological reason this chord (with also its minor +form) has still the same significance that it had for the +monks of the Middle Ages. It is perfect. Every complete +phrase, must end with it. The attempts made to +emancipate music from the tyranny of this combination +of sounds have been in vain, showing that the suggestion +of finality and repose contained in it is irrefutable. +</p> + +<p> +Now if we depart from this chord a sensation of unrest +is occasioned which can only subside by a progression to +another triad or a return to the first. With the development +of our modern system of tonality we have come to +think tonally; and a chord lying outside of the key in +which a musical thought is conceived will carry with it +a sense of confusion or mystery that our modern art of +harmony and tone colour has made its own. Thus, while +any simple low chords accompanying the first notes of +Raff's “Im Walde” symphony, given by the horns and violins, +would suggest gloom pierced by the gleams of light, +the remoteness of the chords to the tonality of C major +gives a suggestion of mystery; but as the harmony approaches +the triad the mystery dissolves, letting in the +gleam of sunlight suggested by the horn. +</p> + +<p> +Goldmark's overture to “Sakuntala” owes its subtle +suggestion to much the same cause. Weber made use of it +in his “Freischütz,” Wagner in his “Tarnhelm” motive, +Mendelssohn in his “Midsummer Night's Dream,” Tchaïkovsky +in the opening of one of his symphonies. +</p> + +<p> +In becoming common property, so to speak, this important +element of musical utterance has been dragged through +<a class="pagebreak" name="page272" id="page272" title="272"></a> +the mud; and modern composers, in their efforts to raise +it above the commonplace, have gone to the very edge of +what is physically bearable in the use of tone colour and +combination. While this is but natural, owing to the appropriation +of some of the most poetic and suggestive tone +colours for ignoble dance tunes and doggerel, it is to my +mind a pity, for it is elevating what should be a means of +adding power and intensity to musical speech to the importance +of musical speech itself. Possibly Strauss's “Thus +Spake Zarathustra” may be considered the apotheosis of +this power of suggestion in tonal colour, and in it I believe +we can see the tendency I allude to. This work stuns by +its glorious magnificence of tonal texture; the suggestion, +in the opening measures, of the rising sun is a mighty +example of the overwhelming power of tone colour. The +upward sweep of the music to the highest regions of light +has much of splendour about it; and yet I remember once +hearing in London, sung in the street at night, a song that +seemed to me to contain a truer germ of music. +</p> + +<p> +For want of a better word I will call it ideal suggestion. +It has to do with actual musical speech, and is difficult to +define. The possession of it makes a man a poet. If +we look for analogy, I may quote from Browning and +Shakespeare. +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dearest, three months ago</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the mesmerizer, Snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With his hand's first sweep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put the earth to sleep.</span> +</p> + +<p class="poet"> +<span class="sc">Browning</span>, <i>A Lovers' Quarrel</i>. +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page273" id="page273" title="273"></a> +<span class="i17"> + + + Daffodils,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That come before the swallow dares, and takes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The winds of March with beauty; Violets dim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes.</span> +</p> + +<p class="poet"> +<span class="sc">Shakespeare</span>, <i>Winter's Tale</i>. +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +For me this defies analysis, and so it is with some things +in music, the charm of which cannot be ascribed to physical +or mental suggestion, and certainly not to any device of +counterpoint or form, in the musical acceptance of the +word. +</p> + + + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page275" id="page275" title="275"></a> +INDEX</h2> + + +<h4>A.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Accents, <a href="#page92">92</a>.</li> +<li>Adagio, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Æolian mode, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Æschylus, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Alberti bass, <a href="#page197">197</a>.</li> +<li>Allemande, <a href="#page182">182</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>, + <a href="#page195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Amati, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Ambros, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Ambrose, <a href="#page98">98</a>, <a href="#page99">99</a>, + <a href="#page102">102</a>, <a href="#page104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Amiot, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href="#page57">57</a>, + <a href="#page61">61</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Anapæst, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Andaman Islanders, <a href="#page3">3</a>, <a href="#page5">5</a>, <a href="#page6">6</a>.</li> +<li>Animals, <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li> +<li>Arabian, <a href="#page152">152</a>, <a href="#page158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Architecture, <a href="#page192">192</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li> +<li>Arion, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Aristides, <a href="#page74">74</a>, <a href="#page84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Aristophanes, <a href="#page91">91</a>, <a href="#page92">92</a>.</li> +<li>Aristotle, <a href="#page49">49</a>.</li> +<li>Aristoxenus, <a href="#page73">73</a>, <a href="#page81">81</a>.</li> +<li>Assyrian, <a href="#page48">48</a>.</li> +<li>Auber, <a href="#page216">216</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>B.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Bach, C.P.E., <a href="#page191">191</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page247">247</a>, + <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Bach, J.S., <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page185">185</a>, + <a href="#page186">186</a>, <a href="#page187">187</a>, + <a href="#page191">191</a>, <a href="#page231">231</a>, + <a href="#page239">239</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>, + <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page247">247</a>, + <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Bagpipe, <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page93">93</a>.</li> +<li>Ballet, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Bamboo, <a href="#page52">52</a>.</li> +<li>Banjo, <a href="#page29">29</a>.</li> +<li>Basso continuo, <a href="#page237">237</a>.</li> +<li>Bassoon, <a href="#page139">139</a>.</li> +<li>Bazin, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Beethoven, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page16">16</a>, + <a href="#page17">17</a>, <a href="#page22">22</a>, + <a href="#page185">185</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>, + <a href="#page190">190</a>, <a href="#page196">196</a>, + <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page201">201</a>, + <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, + <a href="#page234">234</a>, <a href="#page247">247</a>, + <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Bell, <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Bellini, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Berlioz, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a>, + <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page266">266</a>.</li> +<li>Bizet, <a href="#page144">144</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a>, + <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>, + <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a>.</li> +<li>Boieldieu, <a href="#page216">216</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Bolero, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Borneo, <a href="#page3">3</a>, <a href="#page5">5</a>.</li> +<li>Bourrée, <a href="#page179">179</a>.</li> +<li>Brahma, <a href="#page36">36</a>, <a href="#page37">37</a>.</li> +<li>Brahminism, <a href="#page36">36</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>.</li> +<li>Brahms, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Brevis, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Browning, <a href="#page198">198</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>.</li> +<li>Buddha, <a href="#page36">36</a>.</li> +<li>Burmah, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page64">64</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Burney, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Byrd, <a href="#page184">184</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>C.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Caccini, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>.</li> +<li>Cachucha, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Canon, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Cantata, <a href="#page188">188</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page276" id="page276" title="276"></a> + Cantus firmus, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Ceylon, <a href="#page5">5</a>.</li> +<li>Chaconne, <a href="#page181">181</a>.</li> +<li>Chaldeans, <a href="#page49">49</a>.</li> +<li>Charlemagne, <a href="#page105">105</a>.</li> +<li>Che, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Cherubini, <a href="#page213">213</a>.</li> +<li>China, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page18">18</a>, + <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a>.</li> +<li>Chinese folksong, <a href="#page59">59</a>.</li> +<li>Chinese music, <a href="#page144">144</a>, <a href="#page147">147</a>, + <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Chinese orchestra, <a href="#page55">55</a>.</li> +<li>Chinese scale, <a href="#page62">62</a>.</li> +<li>Chinese theatre, <a href="#page61">61</a>.</li> +<li>Chopin, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a>.</li> +<li>Christianity, <a href="#page34">34</a>.</li> +<li>Christians (Early), <a href="#page96">96</a>.</li> +<li>Chrotta (Crwth), <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li> +<li>Church music, <a href="#page206">206</a>.</li> +<li>Clarinet, <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href="#page139">139</a>.</li> +<li>Clavichord, <a href="#page134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Clavicitherium, <a href="#page136">136</a>.</li> +<li>Clef, <a href="#page116">116</a>.</li> +<li>Colour in music, <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>, + <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Comedy, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Confucius, <a href="#page49">49</a>, <a href="#page56">56</a>, + <a href="#page60">60</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Conjunct tetrachord, <a href="#page86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Constantinople, <a href="#page103">103</a>.</li> +<li>Corelli, <a href="#page138">138</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Cornet, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Corrente (Courante), <a href="#page181">181</a>, + <a href="#page185">185</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Coucy, Raoul de, <a href="#page118">118</a>.</li> +<li>Council of Laodicæa, <a href="#page99">99</a>.</li> +<li>Council of Trent, <a href="#page176">176</a>.</li> +<li>Counterpoint, <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>, + <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page264">264</a>.</li> +<li>Couperin, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page191">191</a>, + <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Cristofori, <a href="#page136">136</a>.</li> +<li>Czardas, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>D.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Dactyl, <a href="#page25">25</a>, <a href="#page26">26</a>, + <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Dance, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page27">27</a>, + <a href="#page28">28</a>, <a href="#page78">78</a>, + <a href="#page97">97</a>, <a href="#page126">126</a>, + <a href="#page149">149</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Dance forms, modern, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Dance forms, old, <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Dante, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Darwin, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li> +<li>Declamation, <a href="#page26">26</a>, <a href="#page27">27</a>, + <a href="#page254">254</a>.</li> +<li>Delibes, <a href="#page218">218</a>.</li> +<li>Descant (discant), <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Diaphony, <a href="#page128">128</a>, <a href="#page129">129</a>.</li> +<li>Diatonic, <a href="#page45">45</a>.</li> +<li>Didymus, <a href="#page81">81</a>.</li> +<li>Dionysian, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Disjunct tetrachord, <a href="#page86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Dithyramb, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Donizetti, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Dorian, <a href="#page75">75</a>, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Drum, <a href="#page4">4</a>, <a href="#page6">6</a>, + <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page9">9</a>, + <a href="#page10">10</a>, <a href="#page11">11</a>, + <a href="#page12">12</a>, <a href="#page25">25</a>, + <a href="#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Drum organ, <a href="#page65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Dulcimer, <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a>, <a href="#page136">136</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>E.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Egypt, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page34">34</a>, + <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Emerson, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li> +<li>Embellishments, <a href="#page238">238</a>.</li> +<li>Enharmonic (Greek), <a href="#page88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Epitrite, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Equal temperament, <a href="#page187">187</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li> +<li>Euclid, <a href="#page79">79</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>F.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Fantaisie-mazurka, <a href="#page184">184</a>.</li> +<li>Faux bourdon, <a href="#page130">130</a>, <a href="#page163">163</a>.</li> +<li>Fear, <a href="#page2">2</a>.</li> +<li>Feast of asses, <a href="#page125">125</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page277" id="page277" title="277"></a> + Field, <a href="#page204">204</a>.</li> +<li>Figured bass, <a href="#page237">237</a>.</li> +<li>Flageolet, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Flats, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>, <a href="#page112">112</a>.</li> +<li>Flute, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page13">13</a>, + <a href="#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page31">31</a>, + <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page44">44</a>, + <a href="#page45">45</a>, <a href="#page67">67</a>, + <a href="#page82">82</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a>, + <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Flute players, <a href="#page91">91</a>.</li> +<li>Folk song, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page17">17</a>, <a href="#page141">141</a>.</li> +<li>Folk song (Chinese), <a href="#page59">59</a>.</li> +<li>Folk song (German), <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Form, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page25">25</a>, + <a href="#page263">263</a>, <a href="#page264">264</a>.</li> +<li>Fourth (augmented), <a href="#page128">128</a>.</li> +<li>Franco of Cologne, <a href="#page117">117</a>, <a href="#page123">123</a>.</li> +<li>Frauenlob, Heinrich, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page168">168</a>.</li> +<li>Froberger, <a href="#page199">199</a>.</li> +<li>Fugue, <a href="#page187">187</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>.</li> +<li>Fusa, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>G.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Galop, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Galuppi, <a href="#page198">198</a>.</li> +<li>Gamut, <a href="#page109">109</a>.</li> +<li>Gardiner, <a href="#page19">19</a>.</li> +<li>Gavotte, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Gerbert, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li> +<li>Gesture, <a href="#page17">17</a>.</li> +<li>Gesualdo, <a href="#page236">236</a>.</li> +<li>Gigue, <a href="#page182">182</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>.</li> +<li>Gluck, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page212">212</a>, + <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, + <a href="#page215">215</a>, <a href="#page231">231</a>, + <a href="#page252">252</a>.</li> +<li>Goethe, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page22">22</a>.</li> +<li>Goldmark, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Gong, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page53">53</a>.</li> +<li>Gothic architecture, <a href="#page21">21</a>.</li> +<li>Gottfried von Strasburg, <a href="#page165">165</a>.</li> +<li>Gounod, <a href="#page217">217</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>, + <a href="#page220">220</a>.</li> +<li>Greek idea of music, <a href="#page70">70</a>.</li> +<li>Greek modes, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Greeks, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page42">42</a>.</li> +<li>Gregorian chants, <a href="#page104">104</a>, + <a href="#page106">106</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Gregorian modes, <a href="#page100">100</a>.</li> +<li>Gregory (Pope), <a href="#page100">100</a>, + <a href="#page102">102</a>, <a href="#page104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Grétry, <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page218">218</a>.</li> +<li>Guarnerius, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Guido d'Arezzo, <a href="#page108">108</a>, <a href="#page115">115</a>.</li> +<li>Guitar, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>.</li> +<li>Gypsy music, <a href="#page145">145</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>H.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Habanera, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Hale, Adam de la, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Halévy, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Hamlet, <a href="#page197">197</a>.</li> +<li>Händel, <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>, + <a href="#page231">231</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>, + <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li> +<li>Harmonics, <a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page80">80</a>.</li> +<li>Harmony, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>, + <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page147">147</a>, + <a href="#page190">190</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>, + <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Harp, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>, + <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page43">43</a>, + <a href="#page44">44</a>, <a href="#page45">45</a>, + <a href="#page48">48</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Harpsichord, <a href="#page134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Hasse, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page227">227</a>, + <a href="#page229">229</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>.</li> +<li>Haydn, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, + <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page247">247</a>, + <a href="#page248">248</a>, <a href="#page252">252</a>.</li> +<li>Hebrews, <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page34">34</a>.</li> +<li>Helmholtz, <a href="#page42">42</a>.</li> +<li>Herodotus, <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a>, <a href="#page47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Hérold, <a href="#page216">216</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Hexachord, <a href="#page110">110</a>.</li> +<li>Hexameter, <a href="#page69">69</a>.</li> +<li>Hindus, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li> +<li>Homer, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a>.</li> +<li>Horn, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page140">140</a>.</li> +<li>Hucbald, <a href="#page107">107</a>, <a href="#page122">122</a>, + <a href="#page127">127</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Hungarian, <a href="#page143">143</a>, <a href="#page145">145</a>, + <a href="#page159">159</a>.</li> +<li>Hurdy-gurdy, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li> +<li>Hypodorian mode, <a href="#page84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Hypolydian mode, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Hypophrygian mode, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page278" id="page278" title="278"></a> +I.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Iambus, <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li> +<li>Impassioned speech, <a href="#page19">19</a>, <a href="#page28">28</a>.</li> +<li>India, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li> +<li>Indians, <a href="#page143">143</a>, <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Ionic, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Isis, <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>J.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Jahn, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Japanese, <a href="#page53">53</a>, <a href="#page64">64</a>.</li> +<li>Javanese, <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href="#page64">64</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Jenghiz Khan, <a href="#page30">30</a>.</li> +<li>Jommelli, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>.</li> +<li>Jongleurs, <a href="#page131">131</a>, <a href="#page160">160</a>, + <a href="#page162">162</a>, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Josquin des Prés, <a href="#page176">176</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>K.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Keren, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Kin, <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page50">50</a>, <a href="#page59">59</a>.</li> +<li>King, <a href="#page50">50</a>.</li> +<li>Kinnor, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Kithara, <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Koto, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Kuhnau, <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page245">245</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>L.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Lasus, <a href="#page73">73</a>, <a href="#page90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Leitmotiv, <a href="#page214">214</a>.</li> +<li>Lepsius, <a href="#page48">48</a>.</li> +<li>Levites, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Liszt, <a href="#page145">145</a>, <a href="#page146">146</a>, + <a href="#page151">151</a>, <a href="#page194">194</a>, + <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page220">220</a>, + <a href="#page233">233</a>.</li> +<li>Locke, <a href="#page230">230</a>.</li> +<li>Loeilly, <a href="#page191">191</a>.</li> +<li>London Stock Exchange, <a href="#page19">19</a>.</li> +<li>Longa, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Longfellow, <a href="#page69">69</a>.</li> +<li>Loure, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Lully, <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page240">240</a>.</li> +<li>Lute, <a href="#page28">28</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>, + <a href="#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page31">31</a>, + <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page44">44</a>, + <a href="#page131">131</a>, <a href="#page137">137</a>, + <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Luther, <a href="#page176">176</a>.</li> +<li>Lydian mode, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Lyre, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page28">28</a>, + <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page30">30</a>, + <a href="#page31">31</a>, <a href="#page32">32</a>, + <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a>, + <a href="#page136">136</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>M.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Maanim, <a href="#page32">32</a>.</li> +<li>Macaulay, <a href="#page211">211</a>.</li> +<li>Macbeth, <a href="#page64">64</a>.</li> +<li>Macfarren, <a href="#page213">213</a>.</li> +<li>Machol, <a href="#page32">32</a>.</li> +<li>Magrepha, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Mandolin, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li> +<li>Maneros, <a href="#page46">46</a>.</li> +<li>March, <a href="#page181">181</a>, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Marine trumpet, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li> +<li>Marpurg, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li> +<li>Masque, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Massé, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Massenet, <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page223">223</a>, + <a href="#page224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Mastersingers, <a href="#page131">131</a>, <a href="#page165">165</a>.</li> +<li>Matheson, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li> +<li>Maxima, <a href="#page119">119</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Mazurka, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Méhul, <a href="#page197">197</a>, <a href="#page212">212</a>, + <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>.</li> +<li>Melody, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page15">15</a>, + <a href="#page18">18</a>, <a href="#page26">26</a>, + <a href="#page28">28</a>, <a href="#page148">148</a>, + <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Mencius, <a href="#page54">54</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Mendelssohn, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, + <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a>, + <a href="#page259">259</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a>, + <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Metre, <a href="#page26">26</a>, <a href="#page74">74</a>.</li> +<li>Mexico, <a href="#page66">66</a>, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li> +<li>Meyerbeer, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page213">213</a>, + <a href="#page217">217</a>, <a href="#page218">218</a>, + <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page233">233</a>.</li> +<li>Millet, <a href="#page192">192</a>.</li> +<li>Minima, <a href="#page119">119</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page279" id="page279" title="279"></a> + Minnesingers, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a>, + <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a>, + <a href="#page170">170</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Minuet, <a href="#page181">181</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Miracle plays, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Mixolydian mode, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Mixtures (organ), <a href="#page133">133</a>.</li> +<li>Mode, <a href="#page39">39</a>, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Mona Lisa, <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li> +<li>Monochord, <a href="#page80">80</a>, <a href="#page134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Monteverde, <a href="#page236">236</a>.</li> +<li>Moors, <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Moralities, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Morley, <a href="#page185">185</a>.</li> +<li>Morris dance, <a href="#page160">160</a>.</li> +<li>Motive, <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Mozart, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page200">200</a>, + <a href="#page232">232</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>, + <a href="#page247">247</a>, <a href="#page251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Musette, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Mysteries, <a href="#page125">125</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>, + <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>N.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Nationalism, <a href="#page151">151</a>, <a href="#page153">153</a>.</li> +<li>Nebel, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Nero, <a href="#page94">94</a>.</li> +<li>Neumes, <a href="#page115">115</a>.</li> +<li>Notation, <a href="#page114">114</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Notation (Greek system), <a href="#page88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Nithart, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page171">171</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>O.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Oboe, <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href="#page44">44</a>, + <a href="#page139">139</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Ockeghem, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Octave (Greek system), <a href="#page86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Opera, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>, + <a href="#page208">208</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Organ, <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page94">94</a>, <a href="#page132">132</a>.</li> +<li>Organ pedals, <a href="#page134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Organs (portable), <a href="#page134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Organum, <a href="#page128">128</a>.</li> +<li>Orientalism, <a href="#page151">151</a>, <a href="#page173">173</a>, + <a href="#page204">204</a>.</li> +<li>Osiris, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Overture, <a href="#page189">189</a>, <a href="#page216">216</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>P.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Pæan, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Palestrina, <a href="#page176">176</a>, <a href="#page186">186</a>, + <a href="#page205">205</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, + <a href="#page246">246</a>.</li> +<li>Pan's Pipe, <a href="#page9">9</a>, <a href="#page10">10</a>, + <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href="#page12">12</a>, + <a href="#page62">62</a>.</li> +<li>Pantomime, <a href="#page93">93</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Passecaille, <a href="#page181">181</a>.</li> +<li>Passepied, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Passion plays, <a href="#page125">125</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>.</li> +<li>Pavane, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Pentatonic, <a href="#page149">149</a>, <a href="#page151">151</a>.</li> +<li>Pergolesi, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Peri, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page231">231</a>.</li> +<li>Period, <a href="#page179">179</a>.</li> +<li>Periodicity, <a href="#page24">24</a>, <a href="#page28">28</a>, + <a href="#page265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Peru, <a href="#page66">66</a>, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li> +<li>Pescetti, <a href="#page195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Phrase, <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Phrygian mode, <a href="#page76">76</a>, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Piano, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page230">230</a>.</li> +<li>Piccini, <a href="#page213">213</a>.</li> +<li>Pindar, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page72">72</a>, <a href="#page90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Pipe, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page10">10</a>, + <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href="#page13">13</a>, + <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page28">28</a>, + <a href="#page30">30</a>, <a href="#page37">37</a>, + <a href="#page44">44</a>.</li> +<li>Pitch, <a href="#page269">269</a>.</li> +<li>Plato, <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a>.</li> +<li>Plutarch, <a href="#page195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Poe, <a href="#page266">266</a>.</li> +<li>Poetry, <a href="#page24">24</a>.</li> +<li>Polacca, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Polka, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Polonaise, <a href="#page182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Porpora, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Portuguese, <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Prelude, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page280" id="page280" title="280"></a> + Prescott, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Procrustes, <a href="#page27">27</a>.</li> +<li>Programme music, <a href="#page190">190</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page255">255</a>.</li> +<li>Psalms, <a href="#page34">34</a>.</li> +<li>Psaltery, <a href="#page33">33</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a>.</li> +<li>Ptolemy, <a href="#page85">85</a>.</li> +<li>Purcell, <a href="#page176">176</a>.</li> +<li>Pythagoras, <a href="#page49">49</a>, <a href="#page72">72</a>, + <a href="#page79">79</a>, <a href="#page82">82</a>, + <a href="#page97">97</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>Q.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Quarter-tones, <a href="#page38">38</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>R.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Raff, <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Raga, <a href="#page39">39</a>, <a href="#page40">40</a>.</li> +<li>Rameau, <a href="#page136">136</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>, + <a href="#page186">186</a>, <a href="#page191">191</a>, + <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>, + <a href="#page240">240</a>.</li> +<li>Ravanastron, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li> +<li>Rebec, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Reed, <a href="#page45">45</a>.</li> +<li>Reichardt, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Repetition, <a href="#page266">266</a>.</li> +<li>Rhythm, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page15">15</a>, + <a href="#page25">25</a>, <a href="#page26">26</a>, + <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page74">74</a>, + <a href="#page117">117</a>, <a href="#page142">142</a>, + <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Rigaudon, <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Rig-Veda, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li> +<li>Rimsky-Korsakoff, <a href="#page224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Robin et Marian, <a href="#page207">207</a>, <a href="#page208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Rockstro, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Rolle, <a href="#page196">196</a>.</li> +<li>Romans, <a href="#page46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Romanticism, <a href="#page212">212</a>.</li> +<li>Rosseau, <a href="#page212">212</a>.</li> +<li>Rossini, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page215">215</a>, + <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Rowbotham, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page68">68</a>.</li> +<li>Rubinstein, <a href="#page224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Ruskin, <a href="#page21">21</a>.</li> +<li>Russia, <a href="#page152">152</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>S.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Sachs, Hans, <a href="#page166">166</a>.</li> +<li>Saint-Mark's Cathedral, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>St. Pierre, Bernardin de, <a href="#page211">211</a>.</li> +<li>Saint-Saëns, <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page222">222</a>, + <a href="#page224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Saltarello, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Samisen, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Sappho, <a href="#page72">72</a>, <a href="#page83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Sarabande, <a href="#page160">160</a>, <a href="#page180">180</a>, + <a href="#page189">189</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>.</li> +<li>Sarti, <a href="#page213">213</a>.</li> +<li>Scale, <a href="#page39">39</a>, <a href="#page107">107</a>.</li> +<li>Scale (Chinese), <a href="#page62">62</a>.</li> +<li>Scarlatti, A., <a href="#page238">238</a>.</li> +<li>Scarlatti, D., <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page185">185</a>, + <a href="#page195">195</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, + <a href="#page238">238</a>.</li> +<li>Schauspiel, <a href="#page232">232</a>.</li> +<li>Scherzo, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Schofar, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Schubart, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Schubert, <a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page23">23</a>, + <a href="#page196">196</a>, <a href="#page197">197</a>, + <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>.</li> +<li>Schumann, <a href="#page101">101</a>, <a href="#page199">199</a>, + <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a>, + <a href="#page233">233</a>.</li> +<li>Scotch, <a href="#page41">41</a>, <a href="#page147">147</a>, + <a href="#page152">152</a>, <a href="#page265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Scotland, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li> +<li>Scribe, <a href="#page218">218</a>.</li> +<li>Section, <a href="#page179">179</a>.</li> +<li>Selah, <a href="#page34">34</a>.</li> +<li>Semangs, <a href="#page3">3</a>, <a href="#page5">5</a>.</li> +<li>Semibrevis, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Semifusa, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Sentences, decayed, <a href="#page17">17</a>.</li> +<li>Sequences, <a href="#page111">111</a>.</li> +<li>Set, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Shakespeare, <a href="#page28">28</a>, <a href="#page272">272</a>.</li> +<li>Sharps, <a href="#page16">16</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>, <a href="#page112">112</a>.</li> +<li>Shedlock, <a href="#page195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Siamese, <a href="#page64">64</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Singspiel, <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page281" id="page281" title="281"></a> + Sistrum, <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page32">32</a>, + <a href="#page43">43</a>, <a href="#page46">46</a>, + <a href="#page47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Sittard, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Solmisation, <a href="#page108">108</a>, <a href="#page111">111</a>.</li> +<li>Sonata, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>, + <a href="#page189">189</a>, <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Sonata form, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page188">188</a>.</li> +<li>Sophocles, <a href="#page70">70</a>, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Spanish, <a href="#page152">152</a>, <a href="#page159">159</a>.</li> +<li>Spencer, Herbert, <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page269">269</a>.</li> +<li>Sperling, <a href="#page195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Spinet, <a href="#page135">135</a>.</li> +<li>Spondee, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Spontini, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page212">212</a>, + <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>.</li> +<li>Stesichorus, <a href="#page7">7</a>.</li> +<li>Stradivarius, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Strauss, J., <a href="#page27">27</a>.</li> +<li>Strauss, R., <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, + <a href="#page272">272</a>.</li> +<li>Suggestion, <a href="#page255">255</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>, + <a href="#page261">261</a>.</li> +<li>Suite, <a href="#page188">188</a>, <a href="#page190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Sylvester (Pope), <a href="#page99">99</a>.</li> +<li>Symphonic poem, <a href="#page178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Symphony, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>, + <a href="#page248">248</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<h4>T.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Talmud, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Tambourin (dance), <a href="#page180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Tambourine, <a href="#page7">7</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Tannhäuser, <a href="#page167">167</a>, <a href="#page168">168</a>.</li> +<li>Tarantella, <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Tartini, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Tasmania, <a href="#page3">3</a>, <a href="#page5">5</a>.</li> +<li>Tchaïkovsky, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Tennyson, <a href="#page71">71</a>.</li> +<li>Terpander, <a href="#page73">73</a>.</li> +<li>Tetrachord, <a href="#page83">83</a>, <a href="#page124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Theophrastus, <a href="#page1">1</a>, <a href="#page74">74</a>.</li> +<li>Thibaut of Navarre, <a href="#page118">118</a>.</li> +<li>Thibet, <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li> +<li>Thirds, <a href="#page124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Thomas, A., <a href="#page221">221</a>.</li> +<li>Tierra del Fuegians, <a href="#page3">3</a>, <a href="#page4">4</a>, + <a href="#page6">6</a>.</li> +<li>Timbrel, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Time signs, <a href="#page119">119</a>, <a href="#page120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Tone tint, <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Tourte, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Tragedy, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li> +<li>Treble, <a href="#page163">163</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Trochee, <a href="#page25">25</a>, <a href="#page28">28</a>, <a href="#page75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Trombone, <a href="#page140">140</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Troubadours, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page131">131</a>, + <a href="#page160">160</a>, <a href="#page165">165</a>, + <a href="#page166">166</a>, <a href="#page171">171</a>, + <a href="#page173">173</a>, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Trumpet, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page10">10</a>, + <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href="#page12">12</a>, + <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href="#page14">14</a>, + <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page43">43</a>, + <a href="#page140">140</a>.</li> +<li>Typhon, <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Vaudeville, <a href="#page207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Vedas, <a href="#page36">36</a>, <a href="#page39">39</a>.</li> +<li>Vega, Garcilaso de la, <a href="#page13">13</a>, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Verdi, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li> +<li>Viadana, <a href="#page236">236</a>, <a href="#page237">237</a>.</li> +<li>Vina, <a href="#page38">38</a>.</li> +<li>Vinci, Leonardo da, <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li> +<li>Viola, <a href="#page32">32</a>.</li> +<li>Viola da gamba, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Violin, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Violoncello, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Viotti, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Virginal, <a href="#page135">135</a>.</li> +<li>Vishnu, <a href="#page38">38</a>.</li> +<li>Vocal music, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<h4>W.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Wagner, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page15">15</a>, + <a href="#page17">17</a>, <a href="#page21">21</a>, + <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page27">27</a>, + <a href="#page147">147</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a>, + <a href="#page168">168</a>, <a href="#page186">186</a>, + <a href="#page201">201</a>, <a href="#page206">206</a>, + <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>, + <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page224">224</a>, + <a href="#page233">233</a>, <a href="#page234">234</a>, + <a href="#page256">256</a>, <a href="#page257">257</a>, + <a href="#page258">258</a>, <a href="#page259">259</a>, + <a href="#page260">260</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a>, + <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li><a class="pagebreak" name="page282" id="page282" title="282"></a> + Walpole, <a href="#page211">211</a>.</li> +<li>Wasielewski, <a href="#page194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Walter von der Vogelweide, <a href="#page167">167</a>.</li> +<li>Waltz, <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page181">181</a>, + <a href="#page183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Weber, <a href="#page14">14</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, + <a href="#page213">213</a>, <a href="#page216">216</a>, + <a href="#page218">218</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>, + <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Weddahs, <a href="#page5">5</a>, <a href="#page6">6</a>.</li> +<li>Weelkes, <a href="#page184">184</a>, <a href="#page268">268</a>.</li> +<li>Wolfram von Eschenbach, <a href="#page165">165</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<h4>Z.</h4> + +<ul> +<li>Zarlino, <a href="#page81">81</a>.</li> +<li>Zither, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Zoroaster, <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3> + +<p>Most of the musical examples have been typeset in lilypond. +MIDI files of some of these are available from the links marked [MIDI]. +A few of the original images contained typographical errors: these can +be viewed by clicking on the corrected images (on pages +<a href="#page91">91</a>, +<a href="#page143">143</a>, +<a href="#page150">150</a> and +<a href="#page156">156</a>).</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Critical & Historical Essays, by Edward MacDowell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRITICAL & HISTORICAL ESSAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 16351-h.htm or 16351-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/3/5/16351/ + +Produced by David Newman, Daniel Emerson Griffith and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without 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