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diff --git a/76559-0.txt b/76559-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9839aa5 --- /dev/null +++ b/76559-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1549 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76559 *** + + + + + + TERPANDER + + + + + TERPANDER + _or_ + MUSIC AND THE FUTURE + + BY + EDWARD J. DENT + + + [Illustration] + + + New York + E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY + 681 Fifth Avenue + + + + + Published, 1927 + BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY + + + _All rights reserved_ + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +_All ancient writers who mention the progressive state of music in +Greece, are unanimous in celebrating the talents of TERPANDER. Several +writers tell us that he added three strings to the lyre, which before +his time had but four. Plutarch, in his “Laconic Institutions,” informs +us that Terpander was fined by the Ephori for his innovations. However, +in his Dialogue on Music, he likewise tells us that the same musician +appeased a sedition at Sparta, among the same people, by the persuasive +strains which he sung and played to them upon that occasion. There +seems no other way of reconciling these two accounts, than by supposing +that he had, by degrees, refined the public taste, or depraved his own +to the level of his hearers._――BURNEY. + + + + + TERPANDER + + + + + I + + +In the early years of the present century a certain learned and +cultivated musician, then about eighty years of age, was heard to +say, as he came out from a concert at which works by Debussy had been +played: “Well, if this is the ‘music of the future,’ I’m very glad +I shan’t live to hear it!” Debussy has passed over to the classics +since then, but there are still plenty of music-lovers, many of them, +too, not more than middle-aged at the most, who feel apprehensive +about the future of music. Wherever they turn, there seems to be +complete chaos. The music of the present day is for them an unending +succession of hideous noises. There are some who, remembering that in +their own lifetime they have passed through periods when even Brahms +and Wagner, Richard Strauss and César Franck seemed unintelligible, +are yet resolved not to be baffled by Schönberg and Stravinsky. They +study contemporary music with perhaps little pleasure, but with +passionate interest and curiosity. Yet they are inevitably conscious +of difficulties which do not appear to have confronted them before. +They can see in the music of the early twentieth century some clear +continuance of the classical tradition; in the later music they can +find nothing that gives them even a faint hope of being able to +understand it――some day if not now. They find themselves in the +position of a man who sets out to learn a language which has no +connection with the Indo-European stock. It is bad enough to have to +master a new alphabet; one may possibly, by dint of strenuous effort, +commit to memory a vocabulary of words which bear not the remotest +resemblance to any in French or German, Latin or Greek; but when +it comes to tackling an entirely strange system of syntax for the +expression of unfamiliar ideas, the mind revolts and the student asks +whether all this jargon can really have any significance at all. And +the student of modern music is made still more sceptical by the fact +that the musicians whom he respects among the apparent initiates are +seldom in any agreement as to which of the various conflicting systems +of music is to be regarded as the expression of the true faith. Can you +tell me, he asks, often with genuine humility, of one living composer +whom you wholeheartedly accept as a great creative genius, in the way +in which you once accepted Beethoven, or Brahms, or Wagner, as the +case might be? The hardened critic hesitates, names tentatively this +or that musician――No, replies the other firmly; there seems to be no +one whom you can name without some qualification. And to scepticism +he adds fear. The new music, he begins to feel, requires not merely a +new and unaccustomed intellectual effort: it demands a new outlook on +life altogether. It may affect and disturb fundamental principles such +as most people prefer to leave untouched. It may be in truth what the +old fogeys of the past have always said of it: it may be “positively +dangerous.” + +Let us consider our fundamental principles. Let us forget for a moment +all this contemporary turmoil and ask ourselves what is honestly our +attitude to the classics that we revere. Music, it has often been said, +appeals to us in three ways. It affects us first by the mere sensuous +beauty of sound; as we become more familiar with the art, it works upon +our emotions, and finally we learn to contemplate it intellectually. +_La musique est l’art de penser avec les sons._ To the musician who has +been brought up on the classics this definition of Combarieu’s sums +up his most complete experience. The three forms of appeal summarily +described above divide listeners conveniently into three categories, +but it is a very rough division, and the same person may at any one +time of his life and experience find himself in any one of the three +groups according to the particular work which he may be hearing. But it +may be safely said that the large majority of those whom we can call +music-lovers belong to the class for whom the appeal of music is mainly +or exclusively emotional. The first group, those who are affected only +by the physical quality of musical sound, may be disregarded here. +And it must be remembered that any one who is sufficiently musical to +enjoy what we colloquially call “a tune,” however simple, has at least +the germ of intellectual appreciation; he recognizes that a tune has a +definite rhythmical shape and a definite tonality, even if he is not +able to say so in technical language. But most people, when they listen +to music, do not want to be bothered with formal analysis; they want to +have their emotions aroused. The analysis of their musical experiences +is a very complicated matter and far beyond the scope of this book. +There are many people who fear that if they acquired a knowledge of +the structural principles of music they would lose all their pleasure +in it. They are confirmed in this belief by finding that persons who +are learned in the science of music undoubtedly lose pleasure in much +that satisfies the emotional requirements of the uninitiated, and may +in some cases appear to have lost pleasure in hearing any music at +all. The fear is groundless. The character and quality of the pleasure +may change, and undoubtedly does change as a result of ripening and +decaying age; but no one, even among those who detest all modern music, +however sadly he may say _si vieillesse pourrait_, would admit after +personal experience that the essential joy of music was destroyed by +knowledge. + +In default of knowledge, the “emotional” group of music-lovers, +eagerly desiring to find some significance in the music which they +hear, often try to translate it into some other language with which +they are more familiar. Some listeners maintain that music gives them +positive sensations of colour. There are many who in listening to music +consciously construct pictorial images. Others will seek to interpret +it as meaning something that could be expressed in terms of literature. +Experiments have generally shown that when a number of listeners are +asked to give their impressions of the same piece of music agreement +hardly ever goes further than to such vague indications of character as +the composer himself might give in his conventional Italian directions +for performance, except in cases where the composer has deliberately +set out to evoke some literary or pictorial image or has employed +some well-worn conventional device for the awakening of familiar +associations. + +The psychological process of musical creation has hitherto eluded +all scientific research. No satisfactory result can be obtained from +comparing the recorded utterances of the composers themselves as to +what induced the composition of their works or what they intended to +express in them. People who are inclined to interpret the music which +they hear in literary or pictorial terms are naturally attracted +by definitely descriptive music, and readily produce evidence in +support of the theory that all composers set out to write music with +a deliberately descriptive intent. But the history of music shows us +clearly that deliberately descriptive music rarely stands the test of +time. There are plenty of examples to be found of acknowledged great +composers such as Byrd, Purcell, Bach, Handel, Haydn, and Beethoven, +who have now and then set out to be descriptive; and in almost every +case we feel that their descriptive music is on a far lower level than +their non-descriptive music. Indeed, in many cases it is painfully +ridiculous both as pure music and as description. If it can be saved at +all, it is only by concentrating attention on its purely musical aspect. + +The trained musician is content to take music as music and nothing +else. It is a logical and reasonable language, although it cannot +be translated into words. Writers on painting seem now to be pretty +generally agreed that the “story” of a picture has nothing to do +with its value as a work of art; that depends upon line and colour +alone. It is nearly half a century since Walter Pater wrote that “all +art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.” It was yet a +generation earlier that Hanslick put forward his theory of musical +beauty. That theory of “abstract music” did not satisfy the age of +Wagner and Liszt; but although Hanslick failed to work out his theory +as fully as he might have done, its further implications have come to +be accepted with surprising cordiality by a generation of musicians +whose art would probably have filled Hanslick himself with the most +unspeakable horror. + +Music expresses itself and nothing else. A work may be dramatic, +illustrative, or even descriptive in certain aspects; but unless it +is intelligible simply as music alone, constructed on its own purely +musical principles, apart from all external considerations, it must +fall short of perfection as a work of musical art. + + + + + II + + +Those who have been brought up on the music of Bach, Beethoven, and +Brahms can readily accept this theory of musical æsthetics. It is +eminently satisfactory as an interpretation of all that we commonly +call classical music. There are many people who do not want to listen +to any other kind of music. They have heard of great names in the +days before Bach, but they are easily inclined to take the view that +such composers as Purcell and the elder Scarlatti were merely the +necessary forerunners who prepared the way; that Palestrina was an +exceptional and unaccountable expression of a peculiarly exalted age +of religious belief, and that any one belonging to an earlier date can +be dismissed as a primitive interesting only to the antiquary. But +at the present day the antiquaries are coming into their own. Both +in England and abroad there is a vigorous revival of interest in the +music of the centuries before Bach. After long years of dusty research +the antiquaries have at last begun to convince a younger generation +that a great deal of this so-called primitive music can be given life +in performance, and performance has shown that it has a surprisingly +vivid power of appealing to the emotions of modern hearers. Leaders of +contemporary music indeed are clearly feeling that pre-classical and +even mediaeval music has in many cases a more intimate affinity with +that of our own day than the music of the last two hundred years. It +has even come to exercise a definite and admitted influence on the +technique of modern composition. + +To dissect out the causes and effects of this tendency would be a +complicated and difficult task for which there is no space here. But +there is one point which is a matter of common knowledge to the trained +musician, and the general musical public is probably more or less +aware of it though unable to explain it in technical language. From +the year 1600 to the year 1900, roughly speaking, all Western music is +based on the same fundamental principle of _tonality_. All music is +composed in a key. One note is adopted as a centre. The remaining notes +of the octave are brought into various clearly defined relationships +to it. They may further be arranged in groups, sounded simultaneously, +known as chords. Each of these chords has its own fixed arrangement +and its fixed relationship to the centre. What has been done for one +note of the octave may be done in exactly the same way for any other, +forming what we call the key of that note. The musician may shift from +one key to another in the course of his work, but it is understood +that he must make his main key clear and definite at the outset and +must re-establish it again with equal decision at the end. In the early +years of the seventeenth century the efforts of musicians were directed +chiefly to establishing one key clearly and towards the training of +audiences to grasp the first principles of the system. As they became +more and more accustomed to the system the composers were able to +extend and elaborate it. The interrelations of notes and chords became +increasingly subtle and delicate from the days of Monteverdi to those +of Wagner; but the fundamental key-system and the rhythmical system +which is inseparable from it remained always precisely the same. The +language of music developed steadily and rationally just as the English +language has developed from Shakespeare to Swinburne. It is no wonder +then that most musicians regarded its foundations as indestructible. + +Its grammar was codified by Rameau early in the eighteenth century, +and later theorists saw no reason to repudiate the main principles +of Rameau’s doctrine. In the passionate stateliness of Rameau’s own +music, in the gigantic dignity of Handel, in the genial _Gemütlichkeit_ +of Bach, we see the same lucid and logical precision of language. It +was only natural that eighteenth century criticism should regard the +music of earlier centuries as crude and barbarous. The nineteenth +century approached the older music with a more penetrating sense of +scholarship, but could not help reading it in the same spirit. An age +of antiquarian research inevitably tended to consider its discoveries +as historical documents to be examined in the dry light of theory +rather than as the expressions of intensely passionate humanity. The +music of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance was interpreted according +to the system of Rameau, for no other system could be conceived. If +under these conditions it failed to make any emotional appeal, that +did not matter: reverence for antiquity discouraged the unveiling of +passion. + + + + + III + + +The development of all kinds of historical studies during the past +half-century has caused a wide and by no means learned public to take a +keen interest in the life of the past and in its artistic expression. +We can no longer quietly accept the doctrine that music began with +Bach, or even――as Victor Hugo suggested――with Palestrina. The +architecture, sculpture and painting of the remote centuries, as well +as their poetry, bring the ancient and mediaeval world vividly before +our eyes and minds. We cannot help seeing that music must have been no +less important in the lives of our ancestors than it is in our own; +indeed, it often seems that in those far-away times the art of music +exercised an even more cogent influence than it does now. How can it +be, we ask, that people so strangely susceptible to the power of sound +and at the same time so consummately accomplished in the other arts +should have left behind them an art of music which we can only regard +as crude and primitive? + +If we attempt to consider this question seriously we shall soon find +that we are confronted with fundamental problems of æsthetics. First of +all we must rid ourselves of the habit of regarding music as something +printed on paper which can be played on the pianoforte. Modern +civilization easily leads us to take it for granted that whatever has +been written down or printed is clearly fixed and recorded for all +time. But the real music is not that which is written down: it is the +sounds which are made by those who perform it. A physician cannot cure +his patient merely by giving him prescriptions to read. The written +notes, even those of our own day, require imaginative interpretation; +they require, too, an interpretation based on tradition and experience. +Complicated as it is, our contemporary notation is very inadequate, +although we of to-day are thoroughly accustomed to the practice of +conveying information by written signs. It is only natural that in +centuries when very few people were able to read or write words at all +the notation of music should have presented still greater difficulty. +We can see from early documents such as the ecclesiastical manuscripts +of the tenth century that if music was written down it was not in +order that complete strangers should be able to read it clearly and +accurately at sight, but merely to serve as a reminder to the singer of +what he had already committed to memory by ear. + +The records of the other arts are solid material facts, things of +wood, metal or stone which are always before our eyes. The music that +was contemporary with them has disappeared into silence, but that +does not necessarily prove that it was not worth preserving. Yet we +may well ask ourselves another question: is any art worth preserving? +From the historian’s point of view everything is worth preserving as +a historical document; but if we judge works of art from a purely +æsthetic standpoint can we honestly say that the art of the past has +any value for us? + +Directors of museums and galleries may perhaps be shocked at so +heretical a question. But if, as so many art-critics have suggested, +music is the ideal type of art we may legitimately approach the +subject from a musical point of view in preference to a pictorial one. +The records of the other arts are solid material facts: temples and +cathedrals, statues, panels, canvases. Compared with a symphony that +may last an hour in performance, they are almost to be considered +indestructible and eternal. If on hearing the symphony we find that +it gives us no pleasure, it is soon over, and we need never hear it +again. Once the cathedral has been put up, it is more trouble than +it is worth to take it away again. A second generation may think +it hideous, a third takes no notice of it, a fourth venerates its +antiquity, yet another decides to find it beautiful. The statue or the +picture meets with a similar fate, but as it is less bulky, it can at +least be sold, bought and sold again. It may acquire value as a rarity, +for every material work of art is unique, whereas a piece of music +can be reproduced as many times and in as many different places as we +choose. The owner of a picture by Titian possesses property which is +his and his alone. He might say the same of an autograph manuscript by +Beethoven; but he cannot possess the symphony itself――that belongs +to the world at large. The autograph may fetch a thousand pounds at +auction, but it is no more than a piece of dirty paper. You can hear +the symphony played for a shilling. + +The fundamental question at issue is this――is a work of art a complete +and finite thing, beautiful when it left its maker’s hand, beautiful +now and for ever, or is it frankly transitory, a momentary expression +of a momentary experience, speaking as a rule only to those who +belong to the same generation? The art dealer and the museum director +naturally take the first view. If you have paid some huge sum for a +picture, you may hesitate to burn it as soon as you are tired of it. +You must at least go on pretending to admire it. And since material +works of art are always before us, it is natural that philosophers +should have started to construct their artistic theories from an +architectural or pictorial point of view. It is perhaps inevitable +that the criticism of music should borrow phrases from that of the +plastic arts, because music is an art so entirely complete in itself +that it has never yet evolved an adequate vocabulary of technical +terms, let alone a vocabulary in which its nature can be described +to the non-technical reader. But although there may be something to +be said for Goethe’s famous comparison of architecture to “frozen +music,” it is with poetry rather than with the plastic arts that music +more legitimately may seek affinity. Literary critics have never yet +succeeded in defining what poetry is; but we can at any rate say that +what distinguishes poetry from a statement of the same idea in prose +is chiefly the presence of qualities which are common both to poetry +and to music. It has been clearly shown, for instance, that the lyric +poetry of classical Greece employed devices of construction which are +curiously similar to those of Beethoven. Habit induces us to imagine +that the value of Beethoven’s music depends on our conventional +scale and the harmonies derived from it; but though we are bound +to admit that every artist is limited by the peculiar qualities of +his materials, whether they be words, marble or musical sounds, we +know that they cannot be turned to artistic account unless he has +chosen them, imperfect as they are, to serve him in the expression of +something conceived in his imagination――something of which he himself +is definitely aware although he cannot communicate it to others without +this material presentation. + +That which is common to poetry and music is not a metaphysical figment. +It may often elude analysis; but at present it has hardly been +investigated scientifically. It ought to be possible to find out a +great deal more about it, and to find out a great deal more about what +constitutes the “poetical” quality――to use the epithet in a familiar if +not very accurate sense――of musical interpretation, for these things +are problems of actual physical sound. + +The close connection between music and poetry would indeed be more +immediately apparent if people of to-day had not acquired a distorted +view of poetry by reading it in silence instead of reciting it aloud. +Cheap printing and popular education have given readers――poets too, +perhaps――an entirely false set of values. People talk of the beauties +of Greek poetry; how can they have any idea of them when the most +learned scholars admit that nobody knows how classical Greek ought +to be pronounced? They are in the same position as a musician of the +future might be if he studied the scores of Beethoven without any idea +of what a tone or a semitone was. They know what the words mean, but +they are in much the same case as the man who sees nothing in a picture +beyond the story which it tells. This preoccupation with the “story”, +natural and inevitable as it is, has dominated the whole conception of +art; it has even contaminated the conception of music. It is necessary +to draw attention to it here, because it constantly distracts the +attention from the fact that all the arts are in a perpetual state +of change. We see the human form represented in the plastic arts and +are inevitably tempted to judge them according to their skill in +representing it faithfully. We read about the common experiences of +human life in poetry, we accept translations from other languages +without demur, and take pleasure in the sense of human continuity. The +stability of material works of art gives us a false idea of æsthetic +permanence; we are easily induced to take an analogous view of poetry. +But in actual fact language, which is the material of poetry, is in +constant flux; we are so well aware of that fact that we have almost +ceased to notice it. Language changes because it is, if not the most +immediate, at least the most useful, of our means of expression. The +most immediate means of artistic expression is music, and consequently +music is of all the arts the most subject to change, perhaps the most +subtle, certainly the most transitory. + + + + + IV + + +The art of music undergoes change, as does language, because it adapts +itself to the expression of changing views of life. “Everything new,” +says Frazer, “is apt to excite the awe and dread of the savage.” The +active and exploring temperament seeks new experiences intellectual +as well as physical; the temperament that is sedentary and passive +shelters itself behind what is already well established. It dreads +novelty and dreads it particularly in music――that is, if it is +susceptible to music at all――for the very reason that music is the most +immediate means of expressing innermost experiences such as mankind +often fears to express in the more easily misinterpreted medium of +words. Music has at all times been strangely associated with fear. From +the earliest days it was the confederate of magic and religion. Even +in classical Greece it was regarded as a thing of danger if not kept +under the severest control. Sir Henry Hadow has pointed out that in the +whole of classical Greek literature there is not a word of what we can +call musical criticism, that is, criticism of music simply as an art +in itself. But although moralists discussed it from a strictly ethical +point of view, their very fear of it shows how powerful must have been +its influence on those who enjoyed it. The absence of critical writings +does not necessarily imply an absence of artistic feeling or artistic +discrimination. It is a matter of common knowledge that the Greek word +for “music” covered a far wider field than the word does to-day. Music +was to the Greeks practically inseparable from poetry, so that we find +on the one hand that their poetry absorbs much of the inventive skill +which we now consider to be more appropriate to music, and on the other +hand that music comes in for a good deal of the ethical censure which +is more likely to be due to the poetry. Fortunately artists have at all +times been reluctant to submit to the tyranny of moralists. + +Although practical experience may force us to admit that the perpetual +change to which music has been subjected during the course of centuries +makes it impossible for us to arrive even after prolonged study of +documents at a complete understanding of the art of the remoter past, +it is nevertheless interesting to make the attempt for the sake of +deepening historical knowledge. If we cannot enter into the life of +our ancestors without studying their arts as well as their politics, +we must certainly pay as careful an attention to their music as we do +to their architecture or their painting. The historians of music have +only recently begun to set forth in a tentative way the evolution of +musical forms. They have paid little or no attention to the varying +relations of music to the other arts and to life in general. Nor have +they considered seriously the history of musical appreciation. But if +we are to understand the significance of music at various periods it +is obviously of interest to discover at what date music began to be +regarded as an independent art――independent, that is, not merely of +poetry, but also of magic, religion or ethics. And this will further +lead us to the closely connected question of its varying psychological +appeal. + +The rough division, suggested in a previous chapter, of that appeal +into the three aspects, physical, emotional and intellectual, will at +least serve to provide us with an experimental basis. If we find it +unsatisfactory we shall at least hope to make our minds clearer as +to its real nature in the process of submitting it to a historical +test. There is, too, another well-known classification of artistic +experience under the adjectives “Dionysiac” and “Apollinian.” The +latter coincides, if I understand it aright, more or less with what +I have called the “intellectual” appreciation of music; but the +“Dionysiac” view of music seems to require more searching analysis. It +is clear that the Dionysiac view of music must be very much the older, +as well as the commoner, of the two. The remoteness of Greek art of +all kinds has caused most people to regard it in a very chilly light, +although modern archæology has gone some way towards correcting this +view. But it is highly probable that even to the more intellectual of +Greek music-lovers music (using the word in our normal sense) was more +frankly a matter of physical sensation than cultivated musicians, at +any rate in England, would willingly admit it to be for themselves. +It was pre-eminently vocal, and as the Greeks were a Mediterranean +people with a very clear and concrete outlook on life, its appeal to +them might be more reasonably compared with that of opera to South +Italians. To people vividly conscious of all physical things singing +naturally implies intensification of the personality――including +the physical personality――of the singer. This will account for +Plato’s intimate conjunction of music with bodily conditions and his +consequent apprehension of its possible danger to morals. Evidently, +too, the associational appeal of music was then already recognized +and deliberately exploited by composers, though here it is difficult +to separate clearly musical from purely rhythmical and poetical +associations. + +The Romans seem to have regarded music merely as an amusement. There +are plenty of people in all countries to-day, even in Germany itself, +who take the Roman view of music. It does not necessarily preclude +the view of music as an art by those who practise it for the mere +amusement of others, although it tends to lower standards because it +inevitably encourages commercialism. Among the early Christians we at +once perceive a return to the fear of music as a dangerous thing. It +could only be tolerated as the “handmaid of the Church”; but though +that doctrine is still being preached, musicians have rebelled more +and more resolutely against the acceptance of the ancillary position. +St. Augustine’s famous description of the effect that music had on him +shows how apprehensive he was lest music should become a more potent +influence than dogma. Others, less sensitively susceptible to the voice +of music than Augustine, speak of it as a thing purely subservient. +The most illuminating phrase is that of St. Basil who compares the +use of music in association with doctrine to the physician’s use of +honey to disguise the unpleasant taste of his medicines. Yet it is +clear that during the first thousand years of the Christian era there +was developed in the shadow of the Church an art of music which was +highly sophisticated and self-conscious. The ecclesiastical view of +music had at least this to be said for it, that it caused music to be +written down. It had for ritual reasons to be definitely fixed in an +authoritative record, whereas the music of the profane world, composed +for the delight of the moment, was not recorded and has therefore been +lost for ever. + + + + + V + + +The mediaeval development of musical notation has an important bearing +on the history of music as an art. It brought music into direct contact +with the graphic arts and must have helped to suggest that the melodies +written in a book were no less beautiful and no less permanent than +the pictures which illustrated the text. The monks who invented +notation in order to preserve liturgical music intact and uncorrupted +from the vain errors of sinful man did as a matter of fact thereby +provide him with the means of developing his error scientifically. It +occurred to someone that secular music could be recorded in notes as +well as sacred. The alphabet ceased to be practically a monopoly of +the Church. The social status of the musician rose as soon as notation +made it clear that the composition of a piece of music could be a +thing apart from its performance. When music can be read from notes +its hearers inevitably begin to realize that the individual performer +has no exclusive property in it. His voice may have lost none of its +thrill, but the listener knows now that interpretation is not the same +thing as spontaneous creation. If a song or a dance tune is thought +worth the trouble of writing out, it means that it is held to be worth +preserving. The musician who made it begins to take rank with the +learned clerk instead of being classed with tumblers and acrobats, +rogues and vagabonds. The cultured amateur makes his appearance in the +ages of chivalry. + +Music, considered as a fine art, belongs to the privileged classes +alone. No doubt the illiterate people had their songs and dances, but +the ordered progress of musical development was of necessity carried +on mainly by those who could read and write. It is in this period +that the musical styles of East and West are sharply differentiated by +the discovery of the principle of harmony. Harmony, the simultaneous +sounding of two or more different notes, is so indispensable a part of +music to-day that many people find it almost impossible to conceive +of an art of music based on melody alone. The most unlearned are so +accustomed to the sounds of harmonic music that although their natural +instinct inclines them first towards pure melody it may be doubted +whether they can recall an ordinary tune without at least some vague +half-conscious recollection of a harmonic basis to it. This suspicion +is confirmed by the fact that many tunes have become widely popular +in which the melody has at moments no significance apart from the +underlying harmonies. + +The early history of harmonic experiment is still a matter of +controversy; but whether it came from the Netherlands, from England or +from Scandinavia, it undoubtedly originated in the North of Europe, +and for several generations the chief focus of musical development was +centred in Flanders. This geographical factor has its significance. +Melodic music is individualistic, harmony is co-operative. When two +voices sing different notes simultaneously in a piece of music, they +are obliged to show a certain consideration for one another. In the +first place they must not try to shout each other down. Secondly, they +must agree to accept some common system of rhythm and pace, if there +is to be ordered principle of consonance between them. And if their +music is to be pleasing in its general effect, they must accommodate +their voices one to the other so that they blend agreeably. Each of +these points involves a certain self-sacrifice and subordination of +the individual to the community which is fundamentally irksome to +the Mediterranean temperament. The distinction between composer and +performer becomes sharper than ever. The history of musical composition +from the time of _Sumer is icumen in_ (1260) to that of Josquin des +Prés (c. 1445–1521) shows the persistent effort of musicians to +curb the recalcitrant independence of the individual parts in the +interests of harmony and order. The writing down of music no doubt +helped considerably towards this. The tradition of extemporary singing, +even in harmony, was kept up for a very long time, but it is obvious +that awkwardnesses which might be overlooked at a single _impromptu_ +performance would be submitted to criticism and correction when they +had been set down on paper. The Netherland school of the fifteenth +century devoted much study to intricate technical devices, and we see +here the most conspicuous example in early times of music in which +emotion is completely sacrificed to mechanical ingenuity. It need +hardly be said that this elaborate art was employed exclusively in +the service of the Church. The extreme examples of it can hardly +have afforded any listener the opportunity of enjoying the sensuous +pleasure of sound, either in single voices or in the combinations of +its harmony. Nor can we imagine that it was a type of music which +evoked associative images. A product of the intellect it certainly was; +but Apollo must have been as little responsible for its inspiration as +Dionysus. It was discipline; and at any rate its poverty of melodic +invention, its passionless indifference to sensuous beauty and its +rigid obedience to rule may have represented the three monastic virtues. + + + + + VI + + +Yet some of the very composers who devoted their time to the solution, +or construction, of such futile puzzles were themselves pioneers of +what we can call modern, as opposed to mediaeval, music. With Josquin +the Renaissance in music may be said to begin. His sense of harmony +might be compared with the dawning sense of perspective in painting. +The true history of the part played by music during the Renaissance has +yet to be written. Here only a few salient points can be touched upon. +The invention of printing brought music within the reach of a far wider +circle. The cultivated amateur comes more and more into notice. The +leaders of music in the earlier period were still the Netherlanders. +They overran Italy and came into contact with Italian poets. The +offspring of this union was the madrigal. The output of secular music +from the presses of Italy was enormous, and it was soon imitated in +other countries. Music was still to a large extent under the patronage +of princes, but instead of being a rare luxury for the enhancement of +courtly splendour it became a universal ornament and pleasure of all +cultured society. This is especially observable in Elizabethan England. +What is important to realize about the secular music of the sixteenth +century is that music was no longer the monopoly of a close corporation +of professional musicians in which the distinction between composer and +performer was very indefinite; it was written very largely with full +consciousness of the enjoyment which ordinary people could derive from +the actual practice of it. As music becomes more and more one of the +normal delights of cultured life, it becomes less and less of a mystery +and more of a conscious art. Josquin and his school had laid the firm +foundations of the classical language of music. If we take a long +view of the history of the art from ancient times to the present day, +concentrating our attention mainly on secular music, which obviously +expresses the genuine musical feelings of mankind, rather than on +church music, which in spite of the natural impulse of composers has +always been subject to anti-artistic restrictions of style, we shall be +convinced that the revolution associated with the name of Monteverdi +and the beginnings of opera was a small matter compared with the +establishment of the harmonic system a century and a half earlier. + +The ecclesiastical composers had undoubtedly made important +contributions to technique. For one thing, the mere length of the +works required gave them space in which to work out their technical +devices completely. Secular music, with its swifter interplay of +emotion, required a more compressed style, an art of vivid suggestion +rather than of exhaustive discussion. From the beginning of the +sixteenth century onwards music moves gradually faster and faster. +Its development assumes in the listener a knowledge of what has gone +before. Madrigals were arranged for the lute, just as nowadays operas +are arranged for the pianoforte. A good deal had to be left out in +the process of arrangement, but some acquaintance with the original +might reasonably be presupposed. Music thus develops as an art of +associative suggestion. Naturalism plays its part, probably under +the influence of naturalistic painting. Often enough the results are +ridiculous, but the general effect, viewed at the distance of time, was +to enrich the musical language. The intimate association of music with +poetry sometimes led the musician into dangerous paths. An interesting +contrast is exhibited by Byrd and Marenzio. The Italian is vividly +descriptive and illustrative; only his strong sense of key prevents +his work from becoming fragmentary and disjointed as he follows every +suggestion of his poet. Byrd is never literary; he is perhaps the +greatest pure musician of the whole age. He represents the perfect +Apollinian type, Marenzio the Dionysiac, and it is odd to find the +Mediterranean romantic and the Northerner classical. + + + + + VII + + +The appetite for music increases in the seventeenth century and +the development of musical drama brings the commercial aspect into +prominence. It is the age of the theatrical and rhetorical style. It is +an age of speed. There was little music printed, but much circulated in +manuscript. This does not mean that the general output was less than +before. The manuscripts are much more easily legible than the printing +from type; only engraving, rarely practised outside England, can rival +them. It is the century of “figured bass,” a system of notation which +enabled a composer to write down a mere outline of his accompaniments, +leaving them to be filled up _extempore_ by the player. It saved time +in composition, time in writing out; copying by hand took less time +than type-setting, and there was no need to multiply copies to any +great extent. By the time that the copyist has made one the composer +has produced another work, and his public want the very latest. One of +the things that strikes us in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries +is the incredible fertility of composers. Operas, cantatas, quartets +or symphonies――it is nothing unusual to find composers reckoning them +in hundreds. And we cannot dismiss this copious output with contempt. +It is easy enough to say that one work sounds very much like another, +and that even the greatest men have their moments of dullness; but even +for people who have not specialized in antiquarian studies there is a +vast quantity of this music which still seems to have power to stir the +emotions. It must have been composed in a hurry, performed in a hurry +and thrown away in a hurry; it is a marvel that at this distance of +time we can still feel that even if we do not want to hear it often we +are still glad to hear it once. + +The agitated rhetoric of the seventeenth century becomes in the +eighteenth a convention of grandiloquence. The intellectual basis +of the classical key-system proves to be a foundation upon which +structures of extraordinary massiveness and dignity can be reared. The +immense productivity of the age was only made possible by the frank +acceptance of convention, even in the case of those rare composers +like Domenico Scarlatti and Haydn who systematically made fun of it. +This acceptance of convention was stabilized by the fact that there +had been time for the long accumulation of tradition. The constant +demand for new music was in no way inconsistent with the preservation +of tradition; it was preserved not so much by the practical revival of +old music as by the absorption of its style into what was contemporary. +It is significant that the eighteenth century marked the beginning of +the study of musical history. + + + + + VIII + + +It is during the eighteenth century that the classical symphony +becomes a power that could seriously threaten the supremacy of vocal +and dramatic music. The chief centres of symphonic activity are those +places where northern and southern musical culture met――Vienna, +Mannheim, and in a lesser degree Paris. It was in the north that the +preparatory work had been done long before, in the music meetings at +Oxford and in the _Collegium musicum_ of German universities. That +movement towards instrumental music was largely due to the amateurs. +It must not be forgotten that the orchestra of Prince Esterhazy for +which Haydn composed symphonies was made up mainly from the domestic +servants of the household. The Conservatoire at Vienna was founded +by amateurs in order to provide them with help in their own private +performances. The symphony, along with the string quartet and the +sonata for harpsichord or pianoforte, was the means of transferring +the musical expression of the Italian opera to the homes of people who +had no opportunity of entering an Italian theatre. The operatic aria +became idealized and transfigured in the process just as a hundred +years later the operatic melodies of Bellini were transfigured in +Chopin’s nocturnes. The spiritual result may be looked at in two ways, +according to our temperament and our point of view. We may say that +this transference conveys music to a higher æsthetic plane in that it +removes it from the direct contact with physical human personality to +a region of suggestion, association and evocation. Or we may say that +in losing this direct contact we are losing touch with reality, that +we are sentimentalizing the art until we prefer pretence to truth. +It is at this stage of musical history that the fundamental æsthetic +problem becomes acute, although it must have existed for centuries +beforehand. That the problem was felt to be acute at the moment is +shown by the appearance in 1750 of Baumgarten’s _Æsthetik_, which was +the starting-point of modern æsthetic philosophy. + +It has often been said that in the eighteenth century the musician had +no other function than to accompany the clatter of dishes at princely +dinner-tables. Even if this were strictly true one might at least reply +that in this respect the aristocracy of the eighteenth century did more +for the art of music than their descendants. The music of that period +may have been conventional, courtly and designed to give pleasure; +but if so, its freedom from emptiness, vulgarity and triviality is +astonishing. Church and State may have deliberately encouraged the +“light-hearted gaiety of the Viennese” in order to distract their +thoughts from the more serious problems of politics; but music in those +days was at any rate still an art, not a mere commercial product. At +the same time the printing presses were active. A symphony might have +been composed for the entertainment of a prince, but as soon as it was +printed it became accessible to audiences outside the aristocratic +circle. It was an age of “sensibility”; fine feelings, sighs and tears +were all the fashion. Music begins――we can see it in Couperin, in +Boccherini, in Mozart too――to display the quality of refinement, a +quality which in a later generation was to have a disastrous effect on +the vitality of the art. + + + + + IX + + +The outstanding characteristic of the nineteenth century is its moral +fervour. The religious preoccupation of Victorian England is only a +small part of this age of aspiration. In most countries of Europe +philosophy, science, literature, art, and social life bear witness to +the ethical passion, even in the cases of the most indignant revolt +against it. It dominates music from the time of Beethoven onwards; and +even now it is not entirely extinct in the musical world. The spirit +of the French Revolution transformed the musician from a lackey to a +prophet. Mozart was cut off just as he had recorded his vision of the +new age in _The Magic Flute_. Beethoven proclaims it in the _Choral +Fantasia_ and illuminates it still more intensely in _Fidelio_, in +the _Choral Symphony_, the _Missa Solemnis_ and the last quartets. +One cannot class Beethoven with the Romantics any more than Kant or +Goethe. Romanticism stood not for enlightenment but for the reaction +against it. The Romantics were like men who after an earthquake return +to the ruins of their city to see what they can recover from them. It +was not always their own property that they recovered. The aristocrats +had lost their material privilege, but they were still determined to +remain a class apart. The Catholic revival, on the Continent even +more than in England, was the assertion of aristocracy as a moral +principle. It affected music apart from the music that was definitely +liturgical because it brought about a revival of interest in Palestrina +comparable to the revival of interest in Dante. The emancipation of +the artist from feudal servitude encouraged him to assume something of +the privilege of the aristocracy. The typical figure of this movement +is Paganini, from whom are descended Liszt and a multitude of minor +musicians who made it their life-work to play the prophet in public. +The mechanical developments of the new century contributed to the +development of the new outlook on music. As travelling became easier +and music-printing cheaper concerts increased in number and increasing +newspapers gave them increasing publicity. “_Seid umschlungen, +Millionen!_” sang Beethoven, and the millions were embraced, though +perhaps not quite in the way in which Schiller and he had intended. + +The modern musician is often tempted to see nothing in the art of +the past century but pretentiousness. It is not altogether just to +accuse the century of megalomania. Isolated musicians, such as Liszt, +Berlioz and Wagner, were certainly possessed with the idea of their +own greatness. One might say the same of Beethoven himself; but in +Beethoven’s case the consciousness of his own greatness was inseparable +from a deep feeling of humility and an overwhelming sense of duty. +Beethoven was no respecter of persons, but he had the philosopher’s +intuition of his relation to humanity and of humanity’s relation to +the universe. Undoubtedly many artists of the nineteenth century +were stimulated by his example to attempt works on a needlessly +colossal scale, especially in Germany, where metaphysical studies have +always influenced a circle that extended far beyond the professed +philosophers. An ethical view of music became more and more strongly +marked in Germany; during the latter half of the century it made itself +felt in England, and to a slighter extent even in France. By the end +of the century there was a very definite tendency to regard music as a +form of free religious worship, expressing and stimulating mystical +experience for temperaments which could no longer be satisfied by +dogmatic theology. + + + + + X + + +It is at all times difficult to draw a line between religious +exaltation and rhetorical pretentiousness. A consideration of the +technical means of expression in music may help us to clear our minds. +Since the middle of the fifteenth century music has exhibited a +perpetual struggle between counterpoint and harmony, between what are +sometimes called the horizontal and vertical tendencies of the art. The +horizontal conception of music is, as all musicians know, the primary +musical instinct to sing and to elaborate the art by the combination +of voices each singing its own independently expressive line and +achieving further emotional force by the ordered clash of dissonance. +The vertical conception cannot really be separated entirely from the +horizontal, for it has grown out of it. It derives its emotional force +from the assumption of periodic stresses, and the study of harmony is +therefore inseparable from that of rhythm. It is regular rhythm which +gives different kinds of chords their æsthetic and the quasi-logical +values. + +Melody represents individuality and counterpoint the interaction and +conflict of individualities. Harmony represents the community as a +whole under the direction of the mind which has created the music. +It is therefore natural that as music comes to be associated with +communal feeling on a large scale, with such ideas, for instance, as +the universal brotherhood of man, it should tend to become more and +more predominantly vertical in method. The ordinary music-lover can +realize this from his recollections of Bach and Handel. Bach’s music +is mainly horizontal in tendency. It is music for small groups of +performers, seldom suited to interpretation by large bodies. Handel’s +music, in which the vertical method is far more conspicuous, gains +rather than loses by the multiplication of voices and instruments, and +for this reason Handel is to most Englishmen the ideal composer for +occasions of national ceremony. The emotional effect is intensified +by the actual increase of sound and along with this by the rhythmical +unanimity of the chorus or orchestra. The ordinary man seems to be +curiously susceptible to emotion at the sight of several hundred +people doing exactly the same thing at one moment, as in military and +gymnastic displays, even though the movements executed may be not in +the least interesting in themselves. + +The communal feeling which is at the back of most of the music of +the nineteenth century finds its technical expression in blocks of +chords and in strongly accentuated rhythms. A typical example is +the theme which opens the _finale_ of Beethoven’s C minor symphony. +_Lohengrin_ and _Elijah_ are full of instances. In some cases the +impression may be no more than momentary, a mere two or three chords, +but the trick makes its effect. It becomes too obviously a trick in +the hands of Liszt. As a pianist he could not help being attracted +by it. The mechanism of the pianoforte suits full chords better than +the complication of counterpoint, and the percussive action of itself +exaggerates rhythmical stresses. It was the ideal instrument for +Liszt’s grand heroic manner. + +The pianoforte was the amateur’s instrument as well as the _virtuoso’s_. +The nineteenth century is the age of the amateur pianist. Music became +the pleasure of the rising middle class, for whose domestic consumption +an endless flood of polite and agreeable music was printed after the +examples set by Mendelssohn and Schumann. Whatever the present age may +think of those two composers it can safely be said that no musicians +have ever been regarded by the general musical public with so widespread +and so heartfelt an affection. Whoever easily recalls the lines + + As for some dear familiar strain + Untir’d we ask, and ask again. + Ever, in its melodious store, + Finding a spell unheard before―― + +must surely connect them in immediate memory with the _Scenes of +Childhood_ or the _Songs without Words_. + +It used often to be said of Mendelssohn that “he had nothing to say, +but said it like a gentleman.” To that I may add the observation of +one of my own teachers: “When Mendelssohn couldn’t think of anything +else to say, he said his prayers.” Is it surprising that the England of +Thackeray adored him? To Mendelssohn and Schumann we owe the fashion +of what used to be called “characteristic pieces”――quasi-pictorial +exploitations of certain idioms which at once established themselves +as universally recognizable conventions both of technique and of +sentiment――all those “hunting songs,” “spinning songs,” barcarolles, +cradle songs, wedding marches and funeral marches. At this distance of +time they may have the charm of old-world refinement. But considered +historically, what they brought into music was a multitude of insincere +_clichés_. Mendelssohn and Schumann are themselves remembered for +their very genuine merits. The style which they represented was +absorbed into the work of followers whom it is equally impossible to +forget as well as into that of the innumerable hundreds of purely +commercial composers. Romantic _cliché_ reached its apotheosis in the +symphonic monstrosities of Gustav Mahler. But between Mendelssohn +and Mahler there came others――worthy in some ways of our deepest and +sincerest respect――who from their own high seriousness became victims +of the impressive platitude. Ethical fervour led them only too fatally +into reverent pomposity. + +All this false sentiment was diffused universally by the pianoforte; +not merely by the enormous multiplication of instruments and of +performers thereon, but by the intrinsic acoustical character of the +instrument itself. For the sound of the pianoforte cannot press onwards +like that of the voice, the wind instrument or the violin. That is why +“horizontal” music is in reality impossible to it; the most it can do +is to recall the memory of something heard before. It can do this with +extraordinary subtlety. The sudden impact of the hammer on the string +gives it even in its most delicate moments a far clearer articulation +than the voice or the singing instruments. Its whole art is an art of +evasion, illusion and association. It was the ideal instrument for the +romantic temperament. It suggested melody, it intensified harmony; it +falsified the values of both. + +The pianoforte naturally attracted intelligent musicians of all grades +because it seemed to place the whole of music within the grasp of two +hands. Singing came to be regarded as something almost vulgar, the +more so since nature has not always distributed voices and brains in +equal proportions. As the ethical view of music deepened, musicians +of serious intention turned more to the stringed instruments than to +the human voice. The instruments could do so much more, they could run +about faster, they had in practice a cleaner accuracy of intonation +and a more extended compass. It was easy to forget that after all they +were nothing more than instruments, and indeed the very fact that they +were instruments seemed to give them a magical character that appealed +mysteriously to the romantic mind. + + + + + XI + + +Professor Weissmann has well pointed out that in the romantic days the +orchestra dominated music because it was made to represent the unseen +supernatural forces against which mere humanity struggled in vain. +And the orchestra appealed to many sides of human temperament. It was +the appropriate instrument of an age of machinery, and mechanical +invention rapidly increased its powers. It appealed to the megalomania +of certain types of genius, as well as to the philosophical worshipper +of the infinite. It appealed to the plain man by its discipline, by its +presentation of a number of nameless individuals doing the same thing +at the same moment, and in later days――now, perhaps, more than ever +before――by the sight of this huge force controlled and directed by the +apparent inspiration of the _virtuoso_ conductor. + +The great singers, the few who have reached the highest summits of +fame, have always wielded an incomparable power over their hearers. +But that very element of personality which gives the supreme singer +his greatness distracts the listener on any level but the highest. +Personality is a capricious thing, and in singing, more than in +any other form of music, the listener’s judgment is liable to be +distorted by temperamental considerations which have nothing to do +with art. In the case of the instrumentalist they can be more easily +set aside. Personality is what human nature values more than anything +else in the artist. We see it at its plainest when a singer faces +an unsophisticated public; when the public is less simple-minded +and inexperienced, when the music put before it is less direct and +immediate in its expression, the judgment of personality may be +misleading, and may easily mislead artistic judgment. A vigorous +personality may delude the public into accepting bad music as good; +certain types of music, on the other hand, may falsify the judgment of +personality. These statements represent merely the obvious extremes; +what must be remembered is that this interaction may vary subtly from +moment to moment even during the course of one piece of music. + +The multiform appeal of orchestral music bewilders even those who +deliberately listen to it in an analytical frame of mind. The +difficulty is complicated by the luxuriant growth, during the last +hundred years, of what is called “programme-music”――music that sets +out to describe or illustrate some idea that can be expressed, and +often better expressed, in a literary or pictorial form. To dissect +out and trace the history of all the means of emotional stimulus in +such modern orchestral music as has become generally popular――such +names as Wagner, Tchaikovsky, Richard Strauss, Elgar and Scriabin will +give a sufficient idea of the category――would require a whole volume +of highly technical analysis. Fortunately there are many music-lovers +who have heard enough music to grasp intuitively, if vaguely, certain +principles, conventions and technical methods which they are unable +to describe in words. They will recognize how “picturesqueness” is +achieved by the exploitation of conventional idioms: how these idioms +evoke associations not merely with things outside music, but far more +widely with the recollection of music of past generations as familiar +to them as it was to the composer who exploits it. They will recognize +conventions of sound without sense――strings of notes that perhaps +once had musical value but have now become mere formulæ, rushing winds +and roaring waves “full of sound and fury, and signifying nothing.” +They would have learned also, one hopes, to mistrust the composers +who delude their audiences, perhaps delude themselves too, with a +shimmering veil of indeterminate harmonies, and to mistrust no less +those who with an aggressive air of sincerity and directness assume the +solemn pose of mystery and chivalry. + + + + + XII + + +Those who live on the outskirts of the world of music may say that they +cannot get as much of it as they desire; those who are in the midst +of it are painfully aware that they cannot escape the overwhelming +flood. The commercialization of music has led to overproduction. This +is apparent enough in England, where commercialization has fostered the +spawning of a thoroughly degraded type; in Germany the over-production +has been a greater danger because the vast complexity of the musical +industry has encouraged respectable mediocrity. It is not to be +wondered that plenty of musicians would be glad to make a clean sweep +of all the music of the past and start fresh from the beginning. We +cannot; it is a hopeless delusion. Even if we could make the clean +sweep, we are still men of the twentieth century; we cannot return, +for just one aspect of our lives and that perhaps the most direct +and immediate, to primitive savagery. Civilization has forced us to +remember what we ought in the nature of things to have forgotten. +Commercialism has always been only too glad to throw dust in our eyes +with the pretence of culture. We tell people that they ought to know +and love their musical classics. Being out of copyright, they can be +reprinted cheaply. Teachers find it least troublesome to teach what +they have always taught; concert-givers play what they have always +played――it is the safest thing and requires the least rehearsal and +study. The casual listener loves the “dear familiar strain.” It is not +as if people knew their classics intimately in a scholarly way. And +the scholar is easily tempted into false judgments under the itch for +research. Old music has its interest for the musical anatomist, but +from an artistic point of view most of it is much better forgotten. + +There are some who sadly deplore the popularization of the classics on +the ground that they risk being desecrated. Why not? If some unlettered +person goes into a cinema, hears a fragment of the _Unfinished +Symphony_ for the first time and receives a new thrill, surely it is +all to the good, at any rate for him. If others feel that the vulgar +associations of the cinema have destroyed the music’s beauty for them, +let them have done with it, throw it away as a worn-out thing and +turn to something else. We may reasonably say that people who are +the prey of their unwilling associations, unable to view a work of +art with detachment, do not deserve to experience artistic enjoyment; +but at the same time we should do well to admit frankly that music +which cannot survive momentary degradation (and all things connected +with music are and must be merely momentary) is not worth preserving +and reproducing. When we consider the innermost nature of music it is +surprising that any of it should survive for more than a generation. +Some has survived for less, some for far more; but that is no reason +why it should survive for ever. Occasionally some work of a remoter age +is exhumed and seems to have a new significance for us after having +been forgotten for centuries. But its significance is what our own age +puts into it. That is one of the advantages of dealing in the art of +the past; we can do what we like with it. The art of the present, if it +has any vitality, compels us to submit our minds to itself. + +The present age revolts from the music of the past century because +of its insincerity and pretentiousness. Musicians of the older +generation will repudiate this charge with indignation. The criticism +is indeed a very summary one, and the man of to-day, if pressed with +cross-questioning, may probably be induced to admit a good many single +exceptions to his universal condemnation. But technical analysis will +show that there is a sounder basis for modern criticism than mere +caprice of youthful iconoclasm. The wealth of harmonic resource which +the nineteenth century built up was derived, as has been shown, to a +large extent from associations, some extra-musical, some intra-musical, +some derived from literary or pictorial ideas, some depending on +recollections of previous music. These two categories interact on +each other again and again, so that it is not easy to separate them +out clearly. Like a system of monetary wealth, the wealth of western +music has become largely a paper currency and with the realization of +this fact values have in many cases become suddenly depreciated. It +may be urged that music as an art has derived enormous benefit from +the tendency to widen the scope of its significance, from its closer +alliance with other intellectual activities and from the deepening +conviction of its ethical influence. Is it not childish, it may be +asked, for us deliberately to throw away all that we have gained and +revert to a condition of music in which it shall be at best a mere +entertainment or possibly no more than a physiological stimulus of +dangerous passions? + +The lofty idealism of Beethoven and certain of those who came after +him, both composers and interpreters, is a thing which we cannot +possibly deny or ignore; but we may justly question whether the +artistic expression of it is still convincing to modern ears. That +noble and visionary idealism, in its ardent insistence on the +spiritual, tended more and more to suggest that the reality of music +lay not so much in the actual sounds perceived by the physical ear +as in the relations between them, in sounds――or rather in relations +between sounds――never actually heard at all, but induced in the +perceptive faculty by association. The works of Beethoven’s third +period often seem to lead us into a metaphysical labyrinth. But +philosophical language is apt to degenerate into a jargon, and +philosophical music, when it is the product of lesser minds than +Beethoven’s, into platitudinous rigmarole. + + “Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee.” + +Swinburne’s parody has its musical application too. The classical +key-system of Rameau and Bach established a tradition that was academic +in the most honourable sense of the word. It won too much respect. +It had the symmetrical logic of the heroic couplet in poetry. We can +see how in literature the austere reverence for the great academic +tradition inevitably petrifies poetry into what discreet reviewers call +“scholarly verse.” Music followed an analogous course. By the irony of +fate the music of the last century, when it was designed to edify, has +become vapid and tedious; what has survived, quaintly artificial though +its freshness may be, is the music that was made only for ephemeral +entertainment. _La Belle Hélène_ has outlived _Les Béatitudes_. + + + + + XIII + + +It is quite untrue to say that the music of to-day is predominantly +frivolous. The modern composer might well reply that even for those +who cling to the ideals of the past there are plenty of old-world +frivolities that have triumphed over their contemporary solemnities. +The devotees of Haydn, Mozart and Cimarosa easily forget that all these +three wrote music of deeply serious character and that it was chiefly +their serious music which won the respect of their own audiences. +There is not even anything new in the modern composer’s occasional +habit of making a fool of his critics. But the jokes of the old +composers, like those of Aristophanes, often require the elucidation +of learned commentators, whereas in our own day the newspapers provide +the needful commentary, sometimes before the musician makes his joke. +The “verbal hæmorrhage”――as it has been appropriately called――of +musical journalism is responsible for most of the deliberate silliness +recently perpetrated by composers, who in these days are fully alive +to the value of publicity. Music of this type is as ephemeral as the +criticism which it is designed to provoke. At the same time it is +perfectly reasonable that modern composers should occupy themselves in +an artistic spirit with modern dance-forms. They may well take their +place in musical history just as the waltz, the minuet, the pavan and +the galliard have done. + +Weakness of inspiration is more evident in the tendency to play +modern tricks with old forms and old styles. The sham antique suite +of nineteenth-century drawing-room music is one of the products +of the past which are now beneath even ridicule; the contemporary +practice of taking a theme which suggests some commonplace of Bach or +Haydn and treating it to a development which suggests an orchestra +of amateurs reading at sight from badly copied parts may fulfil some +useful function in making the idolatry of the classics ridiculous, +but as contributing to the expression of contemporary thought its +value is purely negative. There is enough criticism of music already +without that which is written in notes. It is natural enough that young +composers should wish to shock the respectable and it is very good for +the respectable to be shocked. Music which is intentionally destructive +may help to clear the ground and sweep away some of the romantic +rubbish that still encumbers the minds of us who listen. But the +composers must be careful not to forget that the listeners will be only +too glad to return to the fleshpots of sentimentality if the prophets +of the new generation can give them nothing but emetics with which to +assuage their hunger. + +A characteristic of modern music which often baffles the listener of +an older generation is its abruptness. There are various causes which +contribute to this. Abruptness of expression is characteristic of our +time; it is the mark of our speech as well as of our music. Abruptness +is often deliberately assumed by composers as a protest――perhaps +superfluous――against the ceremonial formalities of the older music. +It is sometimes even a new form of sentimentalism, a cult of the +mysteriously fragmentary, a continuation of the example set once or +twice by Schumann. And in very many cases it is due to the examples +of the painters, who have little scruples about exhibiting sketches +which are studies of particular technical problems. A great deal of +modern music is sketchy for the simple reason that a great many new +technical problems have arisen and it is both interesting and necessary +to make studies of them in isolation. The publication of such studies +may often help other people to understand what the artist is trying to +achieve, whether in paint or in sounds. It is the museum habit and the +astuteness of the picture-dealer which have combined to make the public +attribute to these things an exaggerated value, for financial values +easily become confused with moral ones. In the case of musical studies +of this type it is perhaps more often the composer who attaches the +exaggerated value and the public that is disappointed at not obtaining +it. + +The most frequent accusation brought against modern music is that +it is devoid of melody. It is an accusation which has been made for +at least a hundred years. When it is made to-day the modern musician +may point out that many of the most advanced teachers of composition +insist on their pupils practising the composition of real independent +melodies, that is, of melodies which do not depend on an implied +harmony. The ordinary lover of melody is hardly capable of realizing +what this means, and the most gifted pupils generally find it an +unexpectedly severe discipline. What the plain man understands by a +tune is a melody in simple and obvious rhythm; and he is by now so +accustomed to the classical key-system that its conventional stresses +automatically suggest――even if only half consciously――the conventional +harmonic relations, with the result that he is quite willing to accept +as a tune a succession of notes which in reality is often meaningless +when considered as a pure melody. Our popular hymn-books will provide +plenty of examples. The rejection of the classical key-system makes +this type of melody impossible, and one of the chief reasons why the +present age has rejected the classical key-system is because it is +seeking new and more supple rhythms for its melodic line. + +Another favourite accusation, expressed in different ways by different +people, and to most people curiously difficult of expression, may +be generally formulated by saying that modern music is devoid of +feeling, or even that it stimulates and appeals to feelings which are +unpleasant or even morally repugnant. My attempt to put this charge +into a few words is unreasonable, I admit, but I think it more or less +represents the attitude of a large number of people whose conduct is +guided more frequently by good feeling than by conscious reasoning. +Such people feel instinctively that music, more than anything else, +is or ought to be a matter of instinctive feeling. As music-lovers, +they are exactly the people who are most completely under the spell of +association. But as I have already attempted to show, it is just this +tyranny of association against which the leaders of new movements most +energetically rebel. In time they or their successors will accumulate +a new store of associations; for the present they are compelled and +indeed anxious to do without them altogether. If the older listeners +persist in attaching unpleasant associations to the new music, it is +the listeners’ own fault; it is they who by force of habit provide +those associations out of their own good feeling. + + + + + XIV + + +It is by no means the first time that musicians have tried to “return +to nature,” but the difficulty of going back to a state of primitive +savagery presumably becomes greater as civilization becomes more +elaborate. The enthronement of idiocy may for a moment be amusing +but it soon becomes tiresome; these two favourite epithets of musical +journalism are not without their appropriateness. Nevertheless it +is only common sense frankly to face the fact that music is made up +in the first instance of physical sounds. The metaphysical attitude +towards music has given us the last quartets of Beethoven, but in the +general practice of music it has done much to lower our standards of +performance, especially in the matter of singing; indeed among singers +who have deservedly obtained a reputation for high musicianship and +intelligence those purely vocal qualities on which the emotional power +of the voice in the first instance depends are in all countries only +too often conspicuous by their absence. Instrumental music has been +affected hardly less. + +It is difficult for the musician who has been trained on the classical +system to adapt himself to this new point of view. He feels inevitably +that he is being asked to lower his intellectual standards. He has +built them up by the application of a lifetime; they have brought him +his most precious experiences and he feels that to desert them is +an act of disloyalty to his most cherished ideals. It is one of the +consolations of increasing years that our intellectual appreciations +are deepened; at any rate we like to think so. But we have regretfully +to admit that increasing years are apt to bring a blunted sense of +emotional values. Our direct impressions are less vivid, our capacity +for enthusiasm shrinks. Before it is altogether too late, before we +lose all sensitive response to the stimulus of musical sound, it +may perhaps be wise to relax our austerity of principle and allow +ourselves to enjoy the primary pleasure of sound as we once did naked +and unashamed. It might yet be the beginning of a genuinely new and +delightful experience if we would risk the adventure. + +All art, after all, is an adventure. In the art of the past the things +which directly move our æsthetic emotions are the moments of adventure, +the moments at which we join the artist in perceiving intuitively and +directly something which we know to be artistically true and beautiful +although it is not consistent with the conventional principles on +which the art is based. As culture ripens and art becomes a recognized +and definite part of our spiritual life, conventions are codified and +systematized. In music the classical key system provides us with an +obvious example. We acquire the habit of applying our intellectual and +reasoning faculties to it. But our æsthetic emotions are not stirred +until we are thrown into contact with the irrational. The irrational in +this case does not imply utter intellectual chaos and anarchy any more +than it does in mathematics or metaphysics. The mathematician perceives +a new truth intuitively by an act of imagination, but it is of no use +to him until he can prove it by reason; yet reason is of no use to him +unless he has creative imagination as well. This imaginative plunge +into the irrational is what produces a number of common and elementary +physical pleasures, such as the child’s first attempt to walk and such +diversions as swimming, riding a bicycle and flying, although all +these processes very soon become rational and indeed automatic. We +have analogous adventures in the world of art from the beginning. We +may say that music is to speech as swimming is to walking. The mind +very soon regularizes the new experiences, but the fascination of the +arts is that they are always offering us the chance of further ones. +We do not enjoy music as an art until we have learned to appreciate it +rationally; but at the same time it cannot give us a real æsthetic +emotion unless it confronts us forcibly with a further irrational +element. + +It is this irrational reaction which causes us still to be stirred by +the music of the past. We listen to a quartet of Mozart; we recognize +a familiar convention, we are easily set back into a past cultural +period in which Mozart’s language was the language of the day. We +understand every phrase, and we may even run the risk of being bored. +Suddenly Mozart does something which the average music-maker of his +day would not have done; we are thrown off our rational balance, we +have to apprehend directly and intuitively. Our minds have to make some +unfamiliar movement just as our bodies may in certain circumstances +have to make some movement incompatible with normal equilibrium. In +the case of bodily movements practical experience and a knowledge +of mathematics may subsequently show that this unfamiliar movement +is really just as reasonable as walking. Something of the same kind +happens in our artistic experience too. Even Mozart may cease to +interest us. The once unfamiliar experience becomes automatic, the new +harmony becomes a _cliché_. + +There need not really be anything so very terrifying about the +abandonment of the classical system. After all, we can always go back +to it when we feel inclined, just as we may take up Dante and return to +mediaeval astronomy. The lurking fear which besets us is perhaps that +if we abandoned ourselves to the artistic adventure of modern music we +might find, not merely that we did not particularly enjoy it, but that +somehow it had made it impossible for us to go back wholeheartedly to +the music of our youth. It is impossible. Everybody has to ask himself +the question and answer it for himself honestly――am I ready and keen +to face fresh intellectual adventures? As age increases, increasing +vanity has to be taken into account. We elderly people are easily prone +to deceive ourselves and to think that we can convince others of the +doctrine that connoisseurship is an adequate substitute for direct +enjoyment. + + + + + XV + + +Some of the composers of the present day appear to be pursuing +adventure in a definitely intellectual spirit comparable almost to +that of the mediaeval Netherlanders. Their admirers often seem to be +somewhat at a loss to expound their music to the uninitiated. They +draw our attention to various technical ingenuities and they insist, +no doubt justly, on the entire sincerity of the composers. As regards +sincerity, it is a virtue with which art has no concern. As regards +technical ingenuities, we have learned too many lessons from the +past. There are many devices which look quite amusing on paper, but +which in practical performance pass unnoticed. To this the composer +may reasonably reply that the perception and enjoyment of technical +ingenuities in performance is a matter of practice and experience; +there is no reason why he should compose music for fools. Ingenuity is +by no means a quality to be despised; there are innumerable moments +in the works of Purcell, Bach and Mozart at which technical ingenuity +has brought about some peculiarly poignant expression of beauty. +Constructive skill――and this is what is really meant by the musician’s +technical word _form_――is what makes music an art; and constructive +skill has to be attained by study and experiment. It is desirable too +that listeners should be trained in its appreciation, not so much by +books and lectures as by the actual experience of hearing. + +The composers to whom I have alluded assume in their hearers a long +experience of music in general and also something of that habit of mind +previously mentioned which tends to regard music less as a series of +actual sounds than as a series of relations between sounds. It may be +called a mathematical conception of music, and, like mathematics, it +soon comes to deal with irrational quantities. It is an interesting +question how far the human mind can advance in this direction. To +certain temperaments music of this type is definitely repulsive; but +they often feel no less repulsion towards mathematics and philosophy, +studies which have been closely associated with music from very early +times. We must however beware of being misled by superficial criticism +into supposing that the understanding of such musical complexities +requires a practical knowledge of mathematical or philosophical +technicalities. In the scientific study of musical æsthetics there +ultimately arise problems which bring all three branches of learning +into contact; but in common practice they do not affect either the +composer or the listener. There are writers on music who make use of a +philosophical jargon to conceal their incapacity for clear thinking; +but the truly philosophical habit of mind aims, if but with rare +success, at lucidity. + +The practical value of this “mathematical” system of composition lies +not so much in its employment of technical devices which were practised +some five hundred years ago, as in its new method of handling them. +It was a great moment in the history of music when someone first +discovered that two different tunes could be sung simultaneously +and thereby produce harmony. The artistic result of this proceeding +depended on two factors which had to be brought into relation――the +interest of each tune considered by itself, that is, the driving force +which made it perceptible as a continuous tune, and, secondly, the +satisfaction derived from the consonance of the two voices where it +happened to occur. At one period the interest of the tune predominated, +at another it was sacrificed to the interest of consonance. Both +interests are however subject to changes of value in the course of +time. It is clear enough that such composers as Purcell, Bach and +Mozart were deeply interested in the problem of exploiting these two +interests, and of finding out how far the driving force of a tune could +induce the listener to put up with dissonant harmony. We can see now, +at this distance of time, that they positively increased the value of +the harmonic interest by the way in which they deliberately tortured +the ear of the sensitive listener of their own time. Our ears have +become not less but more sensitive to dissonance, more able at any +rate to discriminate between varieties of it. But, as I have already +indicated, this preoccupation with harmony and with relations between +sounds has led to an indifference towards the actual sounds themselves, +and the loss of interest in the actual sounds has certainly brought +with it a diminished appreciation of melody. This is clear, not from +the complaints directed against the unmelodiousness of modern music, +but from the common inability to appreciate the emotional force of +melody as it was conceived by composers of two hundred years ago and +more, composers who undoubtedly were intensely preoccupied with pure +melodic expression. + +Certain modern composers are devoting themselves to the same fundamental +problem that interested Purcell, Bach and Mozart――how far the inherent +force of melody can carry the listener over the obstacles of dissonance. +It is not for me to attempt to measure the force of the actual melodies +which they write. This force, too, is curiously complicated by problems +involving various qualities of sound. The harshness of a dissonance may +be mitigated or aggravated according to the instruments which produce +it, and modern musicians are devoting much care to the minuter shades of +what are sometimes called “colour-values.” The name is misleading, like +all expressions which tempt the reader to apply to music the critical +methods appropriate to painting. It has been suggested that music is now +moving towards a phase in which “colour-values” will be the principal +means of expression. The experiment may be tried, and it may well +contribute something useful towards the stock of artistic material. What +this movement really signifies is nothing more than a subtilization of +already recognized harmonic values, for from the point of view of +acoustics it is impossible to draw any clear distinction between what +is perceived as a “tone-colour” and what is perceived as a “chord.” + + + + + XVI + + +The mechanical inventions of recent years have provided us with +increased facilities for the diffusion of music. The present era may +come to be regarded as similar in historical importance to those which +first benefited by the invention of the stave and by the invention +of music-printing. To some extent these changes represent merely the +adaptation of practical conditions to the increase in population. But +whereas the invention of the stave and the invention of music-printing +must in all probability have increased the number of persons who +could read music at sight, the modern reproductive machinery cannot +do more than increase the number of those who confine themselves to +listening. It remains to be seen what proportion of those who acquire +the habit of listening will be stimulated to learn something of the +art of performing. We hear much of the enthusiasm for music amongst +“the masses.” Apparently they are now singing Bach, whereas their +grandparents sang Handel; does it make much difference? + +It is said that modern music has lost contact with “the people.” Had +it ever any contact with them, if by “the people” is meant those whose +musical education is not more than elementary? By all means let us do +our utmost to raise the standard of musical education in all classes +of society; but we cannot get away from the fact that at all periods +of musical history the music which really made that history was in its +own day the possession only of a limited circle of highly cultivated +enthusiasts. This is inevitable. The moment we recognize music to be +an art and not merely the instrument of magic we have to apply our +intellectual faculties to the understanding of it. Architects and +painters complain bitterly enough of the public’s unwillingness to meet +them halfway. For the musician the case is still worse; the practical +difficulty of grasping a piece of music in the transitory moment of +performance is one reason, and another is the intensity with which +musical sounds act upon human emotions. It is small wonder if large +numbers of people still regard music as almost magical. + +It is the remnant of these primitive beliefs which leads so many +serious-minded and otherwise reasonable persons to take an apprehensive +view of modern music, even though they may consider themselves more +enlightened than those who view the music of all ages with moral +apprehension. The danger, if it exists now, has always existed; people +have always feared that which they do not understand. + +“It is difficult,” says Dr. Burney of Plato, “to refrain from numbering +this philosopher, together with Aristotle, Aristoxenus and Plutarch, +though such illustrious characters, and, in other particulars, such +excellent writers, among the musical Grumblers and _Croakers_ of +antiquity. They all equally lament the loss of good music, without +considering that every age had, probably, done the same, whether right +or wrong, from the beginning of the world; always throwing musical +perfection into times remote from their own, as a thing never to be +known but by tradition. The Golden Age had not its name from those who +lived in it.” + + + * * * * * + + + Transcriber’s Notes: + + ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). + + ――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. + + ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. + + ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76559 *** |