Chapter XXIV: Act II (5)

As from instinct we love and admire all that is beautiful in nature, so a feeling for, and love of the fine arts may exist without a knowledge of their principles. One day, when a party of professors and myself were discussing the question as to the ideas best adapted to express our sensations in music, an amateur interrupted us by asking what an idea in music could possibly be? As his question was abruptly put, we all looked at him for some moments without answering; he prided himself upon the idea that he had pozed us, and laughing, repeated several times over, “An idea in music, how singular!” A musical idea, said I to him, is nothing more than the sound, the inflexion of words employed to communicate an idea, whether verse or prose. If you agree that, with respect to accent, it is indifferent, however it may be placed, I am ready to allow that music has no fixed principle.--No, replied he, I will not agree to that; on the contrary, I think that improper accents, or misplaced punctuations, may spoil the most elegant prose, and disguise the finest poetry.--In the same manner, said I, sounds at variance with the sentiment of the words make bad music.--But, added he, there is such a thing as music without words; and when it is good and well executed, I like it much. What say you of such music?--It is, said I, a discourse of sounds, a song from which the words have been withdrawn. Have you never seen a woman on the point of fainting? she has only strength sufficient left to make herself understood by the signs of those words which she is incapable of uttering.--Very well.--Still you comprehend her?--Yes, I understand that she complains; that she says to her children, her husband, the friends who surround her, ‘I feel better now, do not be frightened.’--Well, in this instance, and in a thousand others, we see exemplified the principle of music without words.

The Italians, in public places, either from indolence, or from a fear of openly declaring their opinions, speak little and much at the same time; that is, by articulating some solitary words, preceded and followed by one of the vowels _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_, all enforced by an expressive pantomime, they make their thoughts understood without the aid of speech. Go, for example, and tell a composer that such a man spoke very freely in the coffee-houses against his work:--What did he say?--_i_, _a_, _u_, _o_, of such an air, _e_, _i_, _a_, _u_, of another, he will perfectly comprehend you: this is another instance of the principle of instrumental music. Men of more northern latitudes are but little acquainted with this species of dissimulation, but it is natural to Italians. If therefore a musician is unable to discover any meaning in a sonata, rest assured the reason is that the sonata has no meaning; and if _Fontenelle_ could not understand a good sonata, you may take it for granted that it was owing to his possessing more wit than imagination and feeling. A fine piece of instrumental music has always a reference to some sentiment or passion, which has its characteristic accent, its peculiar movement: one is expressed in acute sounds; another in grave; another, between the two, consists of long-drawn tones.

Again, if it be said that a sound is not an idea, yet it must be allowed that a tone is; at the very instant I utter _mi_, I argue that _mi_ is the third of _ut_, _re_ precedes, and _fa_ succeeds it. To be a good musician, an idea both can and ought to be attached to every musical phrase of a different character: for example, such a phrase is only composed of grave sounds, sustained and lengthened without any rhythm or measure; immediately, and by analogy, I picture to myself darkness, and the horrors which it inspires. But if the sound of a _reed_ is heard breaking this gloomy harmony, I imagine the awakening of a shepherd, I look in the sky for the morning star, and the phantoms of night are dispersed.

Cùm durant noctis tenebræ,
Cuncta videntur horrida;
Ad nova profert gaudia,
Si cœlo surgat lux.

I was not eight years old when I went to the wise man of our neighbourhood[85], and said to him, ‘Give me some words, I want to compose music,’ and he gave me the above four Latin verses, first translating them to me in the Liégois dialect.

With respect to moral ideas in music, they, like the accents of oratory, depend on the declamation of the words; and if the inexperienced musician declaims all in one tone, there will, as long as he lives, be a sameness in his music: this fault is much more common than is generally supposed. But to declaim is not all; the declamation must be just: I prefer the music that is vague,--that says nothing, or says every thing--to improper declamation. Let us then conclude that in music, as in nature, a sensation is not an idea; but that many sensations compared with each other constitute an idea. Again it must be recollected that the undefined effect of instrumental music acts differently upon individuals, according to their respective organization: it is like a cloud floating in the air; the warrior sees a battle; the peasant girl the flock conducted by her lover.

I have always thought that good music must produce more or less effect, in proportion as its language is more or less familiar. I have been at the side of _Voltaire_, and seen him grow irritable under the influence of the most melodious strains; I have often thought of it since, and I conclude that he experienced sensation without ideas, because he was not sufficiently conversant with musical language, and the variety of emotions which it produces. A more simple being would have said, ‘I feel enjoyment, what else do I want?’ or he would have enjoyed without any reflection; but _Voltaire_ became irritated with a pleasure of which he did not comprehend the cause. Yet at last he was softened, and I have seen the tears start into his eyes. Yes, music, contrary to our nature, at first irritates, but if its seductions are listened to for some considerable time, it calms, softens, and finally triumphs over every resistance. Thus _Orpheus_, in the infernal regions, soothed the anger of _Cerberus_, and softened the hearts of the divinities of Tartarus. If you find a man who does not love music, be assured that it is either because he has not yet heard any suited to his peculiar turn of mind, or that his heart is for ever closed against pure pleasures.

I must however confess, that since speech, with its inflexions, is not always sufficient to explain certain ideas, still less will accent alone do so; yet still the gentle agitation caused by good instrumental music, that undefined repetition of our feelings; that aërial flight which suspends us midway between earth and heaven, without fatiguing our organs; that mysterious language which captivates without persuading, which speaks to our senses without the aid of reasoning, and yet which is equivalent to reason, since it charms, gives to the unsophisticated heart the most refined pleasure. Never will a wicked man understand the language of sounds; such a faculty is the result of the most harmonious organization, and the perfection of our being. The virtuous man seems to hear a choir of angels, the echo of which is in his own heart.

Enough has already been said as to what constitutes a good musician; yet perhaps it has not been sufficiently enforced, that without genius, without original ideas, the most scientific composition is nothing else than a copy, more or less excellent. In looking at the origin of the thoughts of a phlegmatic man, it will always be found that the type is the same as in a man of impassioned soul. Second-rate talents come after him, and criticise, distort, and misplace the same ideas. Following this course, it is always seen that A. has taken from B. what B. borrowed from C. and that the latter took all from D. the original proprietor, who only copied from nature.

Again it may be said, that our ideas in music arise from the choice of sounds and their measures. The time alone in sounds, only gives birth to ideas emanating little or not at all from sentiment; in music, as in poetry, great poetical effects may be produced without the charm of poetry: such movements belong to harmony; melody possesses essentially the beauty of sentiment. We know that in natural, and even in moral philosophy, nothing can exist without motion; but this argument does not prove that immoderate motion produces true feeling: on the contrary, too vehement motion is a convulsion, and a moderate movement causes agreeable sensations. Nature without doubt has her convulsions, but happily they are rare, and only occur in their proper place. Let us follow her example, and not be too lavish of violent effects.

When a young man of talent exhibits originality of thought, however wild, however untutored, he ought to be encouraged, and have the path smoothed for him: he is a choice plant, and should be cultivated. Such a young man is, perhaps, at first devoid of any knowledge of harmony, yet there is within him a genuine reservoir, whence the purest beauties may flow. I would add, that the young artist born with original genius may be looked on as one of the benefactors of the human race.

Why did the ancient philosophers recommend so strongly the practice of sounds? Why consider music as the principle of all morality? Why publicly reproach _Themistocles_ with not understanding music? Because they knew that, in rendering a man sensible to the harmony of sounds, it was establishing in him the principle of order, which tends to general happiness. They seized the cause, to arrive at the effects. They said, ‘If we preach wisdom to you, before your mind is disposed towards it, we shall lose our time; but if by harmonious sounds we establish harmony in your mind, you will yield without opposition.’ Let us then, like these philosophers, make men more or less musicians, and they will be disposed to every sort of harmony--for that of colours in a picture, or the order that pervades an architectural pile.

In short, to be alive to the beauties of harmony is to love the order which pervades the system of the Creator. When I behold a true musician, I say to myself, ‘That man is a lover of peace; he is my friend.’ When the philosopher tells us that he comprehends the language of birds; that he hears the music of the stars as they roll above us, it is the pure harmony of his nature that effects these prodigies. Let us be _one_ with nature, and all her treasures will be our portion. In short I will boldly say with _Shakspeare_:--

The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.

_Merchant of Venice_, Act v. Scene iii.

THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN.

[Having given insertion to Mr. Phillips’s letter concerning the song ‘The Old English Gentleman,’ we feel bound to publish Mr. Charles H. Purday’s answer, if that which replies to nothing can be said to be an answer; and have only to regret being placed in a situation which hardly allows us to decline becoming the medium through which direct charges--whether true or false--are met, not by facts, not even by a bare contradiction, but by calling the author of them ‘a fool.’

Let it be understood that we make ourselves no party in the dispute; we know nothing of the merits of the case, and hope to hear no more of it.]

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~, _9, Clarendon Square, August 7th, 1833._

In reply to Mr. H. Phillips’s erudite epistle, touching ‘The Old English Gentleman’ controversy and ‘The Maid of Llanwellyn’ piracy, I need only quote the words of Solomon, who says, ‘answer a fool according to his folly.’

I am, Sir,
With the most profound respect,
Your very humble Servant,
~Charles H. Purday~.

* * * * *

The following was received just in time for insertion.

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~, _45, High Holborn, August 19th, 1833._

As I am the ‘very man’ who, Mr. Phillips says, has been stopped from publishing ‘The Old English Gentleman,’ and who issued the ‘bills and circulars’ respecting ‘The Maid of Llanwellyn,’ I conceive I have a right to be heard in my defence against that person’s false assertions, which I doubt not he would have you and the public believe are true.

First, if the ‘low puff in the shape of an advertisement,’ which I issued, was ‘false from beginning to end,’ how came Mr. Phillips to _acknowledge its truth by causing the plates of his pirated copy of ‘The Old English Gentleman’ to be sent to me to be destroyed_?

Secondly: I do not envy Mr. Phillips’s object in stating as ‘a fact’ what _he knows to be untrue_, respecting the sale of my song being suppressed!--and as to my ‘unjustifiable possession’ of the said song, I know of neither courtesy nor law to prevent any man from re-arranging an ‘old chaunt.’

Thirdly: Will Mr. Phillips oblige me by stating from what quarter my brother pirated ‘The Maid of Llanwellyn?’ It certainly could not be from Mr. Phillips; for although the song he alludes to does ‘bear his name,’ yet it is _only as the singer_. It is rather unfortunate for Mr. Phillips’s veracity on this charge, that the very song to which he alludes is a piracy on the words of my brother’s! as the following quotation from the last verse of each will clearly prove.

But of all our proud fellows, the proudest I’ll be,
While the Maid of _Llanwellyn_ smiles sweetly on me.

_Mrs. Joanna Baillie._

Yet prouder than even the proudest I’ll be,
While the Maid of _Llangollen_ smiles sweetly on me.

_Pirated, or ‘imitative version.’_

One word with reference to Mr. Phillips’s name to songs. I believe that person does not allow songs to ‘bear his name,’ especially those not ‘entirely composed’ by himself, for nothing--which some of the poor composers and publishers know and feel to their cost; and I should presume that a _feeling_ of this kind induces him to _take so much interest_ (I had almost said principal too) in their publications.

If, Sir, Mr. Phillips is not now satisfied with this ‘exposé of such manœuvres,’ I have a little more at his service, and that of the public, when occasion may require; but as I should presume that the pages of your valuable Journal may be filled with far more interesting matter to your musical readers, I conclude with an apology for being once more dragged into your columns,

And subscribe myself
Yours, very obediently,
~Zenas T. Purday~.

NORWICH FESTIVAL.

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~, _August 16th, 1833_.

In making their engagements for the ensuing Musical Festival at Norwich, the Committee have, there can be no doubt, acted, as they think, prudently, and no one has any right to question their fairness, however their policy may be disputed: for the public will know beforehand what performers they are to expect; and those who are usually engaged at those meetings, but whose services are not called for on the present occasion, had the option of accepting or rejecting the reduced terms offered.

But, Sir, it must not be supposed that the performers who declined the proposals made were influenced by avaricious motives; they only asked the sum they had before received, and which was hardly enough to cover their expenses, and indemnify them for what they lost by their absence from their regular business in London. For travelling to Norwich and back, living there at such a time, when of course the price of everything is increased, and when half-a-guinea per night is demanded for a bed, and that not of the best kind, the sum of twenty-five guineas surely is not unreasonable; and one-fifth of this struck off, as was proposed, would leave little indeed to the performer for his labours at three long morning, and as many fatiguing evening, concerts, and as some compensation for losses sustained by quitting his pursuits in town, during a whole week.

Let the labours of a singer of the first class be compared with those of an instrumental performer of the same rank, and it must be admitted that they bear no proportion. The latter is called upon for ten times the exertion, but his reward is sometimes less than one-tenth of that bestowed on the more fortunate foreign vocalist. The singer, it will be urged, is a commodity more rare than the instrumentalist, and like all rarities bears a higher price. Granted; but is it reasonable that so enormous a disparity should be suffered, as that existing between the sums of _three hundred guineas_ and _twenty_? The best instrumentalists in Europe are offered one-fifteenth of the amount bestowed on a single singer, while the labour required is about in the inverse ratio.

My motive is not to complain, but to place the matter in a true light, and to apologise for those who have declined to accept the terms proposed by the Norwich Committee.

I am, Sir,
Very respectfully yours,
~An Orchestral Performer~.

ON THE ACTUAL STATE OF MUSIC IN BELGIUM, AND ITS PROSPECTS OF ADVANCE IN THAT COUNTRY.

[In a letter from M. Fétis to his Son.]

~My dear Friend~, _Bruxelles, June 8, 1833_.

When proposals were made to me to return to my native land, to devote myself to regenerate the art of music, and to fill the honourable situation of _maitre de chapelle_ to the king of Belgium, as well as director of the Conservatory of Music at Bruxelles, it was proper to examine if I could be more useful to the art I with passion cultivate, in endeavouring to suppress innovations, and in perfecting it, than in remaining in the capital of France, where my labours might not be followed by a beneficial result. To convince myself upon this point I took a general view of the state of Belgium, as regards music, from the middle age to the present, in order to ascertain whether I should find the necessary elements for the work they demanded; that is, a favourable organization for the culture of music in the Belgians, with suitable disposition to develope, by study, this organization, if it existed.

When the sensibility and genius of a people for the culture of the arts is the question, it is difficult to anticipate the future, if history has not informed us of the past. I own that the facts which I collected gave me a high idea of the future fate of the art in this country, if circumstances seconded the efforts I proposed to make. I shall cast a hasty _coup d’œil_ on these facts, that the readers of the _Revue Musicale_ may understand on what foundation I build the hope I have formed in coming here to try a regeneration, which equally flatters my self-esteem and patriotism.

In the fifteenth century a Belgian, ~Jean Tinctoris~, (or the _Dyer_) of Niville, was the most learned theoretical musician of his period, and, at the same time, one of the ablest composers. He wrote many works on musical subjects, which have descended to us, and show that ~Gaforio~, and all other Italian theorists of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, drew their science from him, and were his scholars and imitators. Becoming _maestro di cappella_ to the king of Naples, Ferdinand d’Arragon, he was founder of the oldest Italian school of music; and composed masses and motets, which still exist, in manuscript, in the library of the Sistine Chapel.

In the following century, Adrien Willaert, born at Bruges, was _maestro di cappella_ of Saint Mark, at Venice, and there established a musical school, where Zarlino was educated, the most learned of Italian theorists, and Cyprien Rore, another Belgian, one of the finest musicians of his time, who became _maestro di cappella_ to the duke of Ferrara. Willaert also ranked among the best composers of his day; and Zarlino signalized himself as the inventor of Church Music in many parts. Cyprien Rore, of whom I have just spoken, Pierre de la Rue, Clement, surnamed _non Papa_, Jacquet, or Jacques, of Berchem, so called because he was born in the village of Berchem, near Antwerp, Jacques of Turnhout, and a multitude of Belgic composers, occupied places in all the European capitals as chapel-masters to kings and princes, during the sixteenth and part of the seventeenth centuries.

At this period all the singers of the Pontifical chapel were engaged from Belgium, and the greater part of the musicians in the service of the king of Spain left that country. The most celebrated composer of the latter half of the sixteenth century, who alone was qualified to struggle for glory with Palestrina, and who, like him, was called _the Prince of Musicians_, was _Roland de Lassus_[86], born at Mons; his renown was equally great in Italy, Germany, France, and England. His countryman and contemporary, Phillipe M. Mons, was likewise considered as one of the most distinguished composers of his time, and his works show that his reputation was deserved. I should never conclude, were I to name all the Belgian musicians worthy of being reckoned amongst the most able artists. You will observe that I do not mention many other composers and theorists, who,--born in that part of Flanders, reunited to France during the reigns of Louis XIII. and XIV., or in the northern provinces under the dominion of Prussia,--belong nevertheless to Belgium.

After the prosperous musical period of which I have just spoken, Belgium passed successively under the dominion of various rulers, was the theatre of all the plagues of war, and finished by losing its nationality, and saw vanish the glory of her musicians. Notwithstanding which, the genius of its inhabitants triumphed from time to time over the circumstances in which they were placed.

In modern days, do we not see Gossec (born in a village near Walcourt) convey the germ of a good school of harmony to France, after having studied in the cathedral of Antwerp, and obtained a justly celebrated name for the composition of symphony, before Haydn’s works were known to the musical world? This same artist became one of the founders of the _Conservatoire de Musique_ in France, and member of the Institute, and powerfully contributed to the success of the French, from the part he took in compiling various elementary works, and by the scholars he produced. At the head of these Catel distinguished himself.

The most celebrated composer who shone in France in the eighteenth century was a Belgian: you at once know that I mean Grétry, born at Liege. The creation of a species which belongs to him, and more than fifty operas, of which the greatest number are filled with excellent things, either as respect melody or dramatic expression, speak more than my praises can to his honour. At the present period, the musical talent of the Belgians manifests itself in a way which leaves no doubt of success for the future, when, by a proper mode of instruction, their natural genius is well cultivated.

The _Conservatoire de Musique_ at Paris has furnished some young Belgian composers to the Institute who are distinguished by their works, or who have been favoured by government with a pension. Such are MM. Mengal, Ermel, and Angelet. The Belgian violinists, among whom we notice Bériot, Roberechts, Haumann, Ghys Massart, the young Vieutemps, and many others, shine the first in rank of any in Europe. Antwerp awards the palm to M. Chevillarch, one of the first violinists of the present age. Young Servais promises fair to be another virtuoso on that instrument. The Belgians have the honour to have given birth to Drouet, the most astonishing of flutists. In fact, every species of talent is daily produced by this ancient country of art. There is, then, a guarantee for the musical regeneration about to be operated by the government of Belgium. This is what I perceived, and sufficed to convince me that my labours would not be bestowed on an ungrateful soil.

Belgium has re-conquered her nationality. Its government has secured a return to civilization, and the restoration of arts, which have long languished under foreign dominion. From this moment it gives the country those means of instruction which were wanting. Shortly it will secure, by adequate institutions, a succession of artists distinguished by talent. Thus the Belgians will recover that high rank they once held in art.

Such is my belief, and this has determined me to devote the rest of my days to my native country.

~Fetis.~

MUSICAL METRONOMES.

_To the_ ~Editors~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Gentlemen~, _Olive Mount Street, Liverpool_.

I notice in your valuable work, the _Harmonicon_, for May last, a Report made to the [French] Academy of the Fine Arts, 20th of October, 1832, by its Musical Committee, on the Third Metronome of Maelzel.--With this report I am much pleased, and feel glad that so small, yet very _useful a thing_ has received such attention from men of scientific knowledge, in their endeavours to improve the system of musical education. Their notice of the subject redounds greatly to their credit.

My object in this communication is to furnish you with a paragraph from the _Liverpool Mercury_, of Friday the 19th inst., upon what I consider a very important matter, viz. Improved Musical Time Beaters.--It is as follows:--‘Many of our musical readers are, no doubt, acquainted with Maelzel’s Metronome, for ascertaining the time in which musical pieces should be played. It is a very simple instrument, but is not intended to accompany the player, as it is completely dumb. We would not say anything in disparagement of any useful invention, but we may be permitted, we trust, to observe, that every object attained by Maelzel’s Metronome would be fully accomplished on a graduated pendulum with a sliding ball, which might be sold for half-a-crown at the utmost. Mr. Abbot, of Manchester, has very greatly improved upon Maelzel’s instrument, by rendering it what it ought to be, not only a time indicator, but a time beater. At the commencement of each bar it gives a very audible beat. It will be found advertised under the head “Musical Indicator,” in another part of our paper. In consequence of some conversation we had with the inventor on the subject, we trust that Mr. Abbot will construct some Indicators which shall not only mark the beginning of the bar, but any sub-division of it. The Musical Time-beater, invented many years ago by Mr. Egerton Smith, of Liverpool, and simplified by Mr. Condliffe, of the same place, possesses this advantage over every similar instrument previously or subsequently introduced. It marks the beginning of the bar by a pretty loud blow, and indicates also the component parts of the bar by minor but audible beats, whether there be 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, or 12 in the bar. The machine, however, is perhaps too complicated for common use, and we should greatly prefer Mr. Abbot’s, if it gave the subdivisions of the bar.’

I have seen Mr. Abbot’s Time Indicator; it is a simple, good instrument, but not what it professes to be, in my humble opinion: it beats every crotchet, or rather it is like a clock that beats, or ticks loud and quick.

Mr. Smith’s invention, simplified by Mr. Condliffe, is greatly superior to it in every respect. It gives a good beat at the beginning of every bar, and generally divides the bar into its smaller proportions very accurately. It is not so complicated as the above; is an excellent contrivance, and the best that has ever yet appeared.

I am, Sir, your constant reader,
And humble Servant,
~L. T. Crossley.~

_July 22d, 1833._

BELLINI’S LAST OPERA.

A friendly correspondent, whose letter exhibits more gentlemanlike politeness than musical judgment, has mildly reproached us for the contempt we have expressed for the Italian opera, _I Capuleti e Montecchi_. Of this work we hoped never to hear further mention, but the grave remonstrance of our correspondent, who desires that his communication may not be published, induces us to insert a critique, a very just and able one, from the German _Iris_, of the 21st of June last, by which our friend will perceive that foreign critics _do_ entertain the same opinion of this last production of Signor Bellini, as that universally felt in London.

---- As to the opera itself,--says the German writer, M. Rellstab,--it is like many other modern works, which we might find ample fault with, if we found but a footing in any part which was good or beautiful, so as to be able to separate the bad and to submit the latter to criticism; but when a thing is awry on all sides,--if no part of it display rationality of ideas, much less beauty, where is a poor critic to begin? Begin? whether we start from above, from below, at angles or across, whether we skim like a swallow over the work, weaknesses will present themselves at every step. But suppose he has begun, where is he to leave off? but no matter, let us venture upon the task. Why is _everything_ to be censured? Why is criticism to demand absolute perfection, since the art itself cannot arrive at it; and since the greatest work of art must fall short of the desired perfection, at least as far as regards an author who culls his labour to a strict account? Goethe himself confesses unceremoniously, that a work of art can never be finished: why should we, _Dii minorum gentium_, not subscribe to that opinion? Why should criticism take into its head to attain a greater perfection? No such thing! The reader therefore shall be served with more critical aphorisms;--a critical thunderstorm, with some flashes of lightning. But _ad rem_! The overture, a _charivari_ more destitute of ideas, a more unmeaning ding-dong of instruments, a more mawkish whine of melody, has never reached my ears or eyes. Verily the overture is invaluable! it is as if it were prefixed to the work as a sort of board, with the warning ‘Here nothing is to be gained, a mere triumph of insipidity is celebrating within.’ It is, indeed, a bold thing to speak thus of a renowned man, who has the public so much on his side. Honest Germans! Honest Viennese in particular!--for you more especially constitute the public of Bellini--I have but a poor opinion of you who can live tens of years without hearing Gluck, who can find Mozart antiquated, and Beethoven’s _Fidelio_ and Weber’s _Euryanthe_ dull and tedious. From that which you reject and spurn, we may judge to a nicety of the value of that which you choose. But let us proceed: choruses, arias, recitativos, everything runs helter skelter, without rhyme or reason, into each other, and at cross purposes. _Tebaldo_ sings like _Romeo_; _Romeo_ like _Lorenzo_; _Lorenzo_ like _Julia_; the enemy like the friend; the happy like the miserable; the lover like the deadly foe. How divine! how perfectly freed is the critic from the odious task of entering into the sense and meaning of a work of art! How heavenly a state of existence when the mind is absolved from all exertion, when we may stretch our limbs comfortably, gape away, and enjoy the _dolce far niente_! I myself had nearly fallen into this pleasing state; I felt as if I had exclaimed, ‘Pursue your musical sounds; blow on, whistle, fiddle, and drum away; drag the melody through endless suspensions like a chain of sighs, then let it rattle off like a Dutch alarm clock, which enhances the enjoyment of sleep, because it just renders us conscious of being asleep. But how is all this? How comes it that every thing penetrates but skin deep? How? because the question was to write something which should not remind the hearer that he possessed a heart or brains; or, in short, that he was an intellectual being. But surely this problem might have been solved by the composer in a less offensive manner. Fifths and octaves will split the tympanum of a New Zealander, of a buffalo; will rupture the asses’ skin of a drum itself. Oh, Signor Bellini, you really are going beyond a joke with our poor ears! Faults and crudities are permitted, we allow, but such lumps and clumps of faults which would make an elephant stumble, such blocks, ought surely not to have been strewed across my critical path. The public, it is true, regards them as genial mountains, as aërolites dropped from the moon, or a something else unheard of before. Ah, if they remained but unheard! if they were but inaudible! but there are many abodes upon earth, and I will add, there are many sorts of ears.

Dearest friend,--I hear my readers exclaim,--we perfectly perceive that you will never cease censuring; but do pray begin to bestow your praise too. Courteous readers of the _Iris_, the latter is more difficult than to leave off finding fault. You fancy perhaps I need only say the composer writes advantageously for the voice; really that would be one of the most barefaced fibs that I could be guilty of, according to my notion of what constitutes genuine song. True it is, that he writes for vocal caricature, for the very destruction of the vocal art, in which everything noble and beautiful stands a fair chance to be thus ruined. Although there may be found, here and there, singers who know how to transfer what is great and valuable in their art, even to such specimens of its degeneracy and abuse. And this indeed is the sole reason why the operas of such composers maintain their ground in Italy; they afford opportunities to a singer destitute of true feeling of showing his vocal volubility and execution, and of creating astonishment by such means; while to the great singer they present a field for compensating by his art, that which the brainless author was incapable of producing. But in the eye and ear of the true connoisseur, such productions must ever remain monsters. Bellini, and still worse Rossini, laugh at the idea of expressing words or feelings by means of music; inasmuch as the most insipid, commonplace ideas are often resorted to, to depict situations of the most intense interest. But let it not be thought, after all, that the composers or the public intend to forego this requisite expression. Far from it. The singer is expected to supply this desideratum, and thus coarse minds get hammered into them that which is insupportable to a cultivated taste; in the same manner as children or savages look upon a glaringly rouged and tinselled doll as a decided beauty, while to a cultivated eye the sight is revolting. In this doll, we no doubt trace the embryo of an attempt at the beautiful, as much as in Bellini’s finales, which, like the _papier maché_ busts in barbers’ shops, with their full blown cheeks and inch deep rouge, are meant to represent loveliness.

_Jam satis!_ But is there really nothing whatever to be praised? For the true judge in the art, _nothing_? Here and there we distinguish an evanescent bubble, as it were, of some little melodic beginning, which just proves that, as in the most obdurate being, the spark of what is good is not totally extinct,--so in the most perverted taste, and in a state of its greatest degeneracy, there will still lurk some remains of the feeling for the beautiful inherent in our nature. Of this kind are the Romance, however supported by the most clumsy harmony--the funeral dirge of the young maidens, &c. &c. But enough: were I to begin to enumerate the mere germs of what is good, I should have to do the same with the full-leaved, full-blossomed weeds, in which case, my critique would probably occupy the whole of the future numbers of the _Iris_ for the remainder of the year.

REVIEW OF NEW MUSIC.

1. ~Anthem~, ‘Turn Thee again, O Lord!’ _the_ ~Gresham Prize
Composition~ (No. 2), _composed by_ ~Kellow J. Pye~, _of Exeter,
Member of the Royal Academy of Music_. (J. A. Novello.)

2. ~Cantata~, The Orphan’s Ode to the Patriots, _arranged, with
accompaniments for the Piano-forte and Harp, by the_ ~Lady
Dunstaffnage~. _The Music by_ ~Hummel~.

3. ~The Monthly Sacred Minstrel~, _edited by_ ~John Goss~. Nos. 6
and 7. (Cramer, Addison, and Beale.)

4. ~A Collection of Tunes~, &c., _adapted to the_ Hymns _in use by
the Wesleyan Methodist Societies, arranged in Classes, and designed
for Choirs and Congregations, by_ ~Thomas Hawkes~, _of Williton,
Somerset, Land Agent_. (Mason, _Paternoster Row_.)

Mr. Pye’s work is, in choir language, a full anthem with verse, for soprano, alto, two tenors, and a base, in three movements: the first, full, in ~D~ minor; the second verse, five voices, in ~F~; and the third, a fugue in ~D~ major, full, for four voices. The whole, both design and execution, is in the orthodox style of the latter end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries. Weldon and Croft have been the composer’s models, but only so far as regards manner; he has borrowed nothing, for though we cannot ascribe any positive originality to this anthem--not any absolutely new thought,--yet the author has made himself debtor to no one for a single passage that we can recognise. The first movement is decidedly the best, it evinces much musical learning without any of its pedantry: the fugue style is adopted for effect, not for display; the harmony is rich without being loaded, and the modulations are of that grave and becoming kind which characterises the works of the composers whom we have just named; but throughout the whole we feel a want of their melody. There is, however, more of this essential ingredient in the verse, though it is not over-abundant even here. The last movement is a fugue of two subjects, sufficiently worked to satisfy those who delight in composition that smells of the lamp, and not so laboured as to offend such as think music an art to be addressed to the ear, rather than the eye.

Mr. Pye, a very young artist, has done himself much honour by this composition. Will our choirs second his efforts, and encourage others to proceed in the same course, by immediately adopting his anthem? They ought, if they have any respect for talent, or if they consult the interests of cathedral establishments.

* * * * *

Neither the title-page nor an advertisement, added to a large list of subscribers, enable us to penetrate deep into the history of the Cantata No. 2, which we at first took for a sacred composition, but afterwards found to be an abominable _mésalliance_ of religion and politics, beginning with a part of the fortieth chapter of the prophet Isaiah, and ending with such profitless lines as the following:--

‘A Cumberland, Eldon, pillars of the nation,
Newcastle, and a Mansfield, who nobly filled their station,
As stars at midnight shone those orbs,’ &c. &c.

But the music, by Hummel, and in his best manner, is worthy of so much of the poetry as is borrowed from the inspired writer, and far too good for the uninspired verses that follow. The promoters of this work, however, it seems, intend to make some provision for two orphans out of the proceeds, and we hope that success will attend their benevolent endeavours; wishing at the same time that they had been as fortunate in their choice of words as in their music and number of subscribers.

* * * * *

No. 3 is a continuation of a work noticed before. In this appears the Lord’s prayer, set to music by Mr. T. Cooke, who--we are sure very unintentionally, but very unluckily--has, by his manner of setting, turned it almost into burlesque, _e. g._

Then we have a rest after ‘earth,’ but none after ‘heaven,’ so that the reading is thus,--‘As it is in heaven give us this day our daily bread;’ and ‘daily’ is made emphatic, (with a certain jerk,) instead of the word ‘bread;’ thus--

After this comes ‘trespasses,’ with a strong accent on the third syllable. The last fifteen words are so often repeated as to fill two closely engraved pages, and the phrase, ‘for ever and ever,’ is reiterated no less than ten times, the movement being marked _allegro moderato_! Let us hope that but few, if any, will be found to misemploy this fine, comprehensive, universal prayer, by singing it as thus set. Indeed, we never wish to hear it _sung_ at all. The other pieces in these numbers are, a very pleasing duet from Marcello’s Psalms; the first stanza of Sir Walter Scott’s translation of _Dies Iræ_, well set, particularly the first movement, by Mr. M’Murdie; and Millico’s beautiful arietta, ‘Ho sparso tante lagrime,’ with English words adapted to it.

* * * * *

No. 4 includes the greatest number of hymns we ever met with in one collection. The volume, which takes a shape we can only describe by its dimensions, is twelve inches wide by rather more than six deep, consisting of nearly four hundred pages, which contain at least five hundred tunes. These are selected from various works, and are all in score, in four parts, for soprano, alto, tenor, and base; and as no accompaniment is given, the want of a figured base will be felt by the organist. For the middle parts a new character is used--something in the form of a treble clef, and giving the same names to the staff; the intention of which is, to save the trouble of directing the alto and tenor to sing the notes an octave lower. The inventor of this is a Mr. Gay, who disapproves the employment of the base clef for the tenor voice, preferring the treble, or his own character. He assigns no reason for this, and most probably has none to offer, unless he can defend prejudice. But he is bound to show cause why such harmony as the subjoined is to be allowed:--

Such consecutive fifths, though false fifths, are much worse to the ear than some successions of perfect ones. The crotchet ~A~ ought to have fallen to ~G~. But the same gentleman--who it appears has ‘revised and corrected’ this work--is answerable for a very extraordinary error, in calling certain keys by their wrong names. For instance, he denominates the key of ~B~ flat, ‘~B~ major;’ ~E~ flat, ‘~E~ major;’ and, _mirabile dictu!_ gives the right name to the _real_ key of ~E~ major; thus making the keys of ~E~ three flats and ~E~ four sharps, &c., the same in denomination.

Of these numerous tunes, only the notes are inserted, we therefore cannot tell how the words are adapted to them, or how accented; but, with an exception or two, the harmony of such few as we have examined is correct, and the parts sing well. The compiler, Mr. Hawkes, has inserted some few of his own compositions, which show great taste, and afford another proof of the progress making in musical knowledge by amateurs. The work is printed in a remarkably neat, small, but clear type, and we doubt not will prove of considerable utility to the large class of persons for whose use it is published.

* * * * *

~The Passions~, _being_ ~Six Songs~, _each with a descriptive
Proem, and Graphic Illustrations: the Poetry by_ ~Jos. Lunn~;
_the Music by_ ~G. F. Stansbury~, ~T. Cooke~, ~J. Parry~, ~F. W.
Horncastle~, ~J. C. Clifton~, _and_ ~E. Taylor~. _The Illustrations
by_ ~R. J. Hamerton~. (Goulding and D’Almaine.)

The Passions are hazardous matters for poets, painters, and musicians to meddle with in the way of art. Collins succeeded in them well; Le Brun tolerably. Dr. Cooke set Collins’ Ode, but reaped no laurels from his labours; and we are not aware that any other attempt to describe, in musical language, these powerful emotions of the mind was ever made till now; for those choruses called ‘The Passions,’ in Handel’s _Solomon_, are improperly designated.

But what are the passions? Metaphysicians are by no means agreed on this point. Nay, a distinguished writer goes so far as to allow but one, self-love! and asserts that all the others are but modifications of this. Mr. Lunn well observes, that ‘there are many affections, attributes, &c., usually denominated passions, which have no claim to that definite appellation.’ And he afterwards adds, ‘I am induced to consider the six which I have chosen for my task,--namely, Love, Joy, and Hope, and their opposites, Hate, Grief, and Despair, as the roots, or bases; or, if the expression be admissible, the Cardinal Passions, of which all the rest are ramifications, modifications, or combinations.’ (_Introduction._)

It appears from the Preface to this volume, that two composers were severally invited by Mr. Lunn to set his poetry to music, but that one, after requiring many months to consider the subject, declined; and the other was bound by engagements which prevented his undertaking the task. The probability is, that the latter, Mr. Bishop, well knew the difficulty of such an enterprise, and was not very willing to risk his reputation in it. The other was blessed with more intrepidity, and embarked in a work of a similar kind[87], though he had, in a modest excuse, declared his incompetency to set the poetry of his friend.

Mr. Lunn, being thus deserted and disappointed, at length presented his manuscript to the Melodists’ Club, six of whose members undertaking to set the words, the volume under notice was produced.

The first, ~Love~, is an elegant composition in ~A~ flat, but much too grave for the words, which, we should imagine, the author meant to be set in a light, playful manner.

The second portrays ~Hate~ in the proem or exordium, but in the song launches out into certain moral reflections on valour, and the generosity springing from this, describing the passion by its contraries; which we cannot but consider as injudicious, because at variance with what was, or what ought to have been, the general design of the poet, who, when he ceased to depict, should at least have illustrated by resemblances, not opposites. Hence the composer, who has well expressed the deadly passion, has been driven into a trumpety, military style in his air, which, we must add, is quite of the common theatrical kind.

Joy is the third, and, with the exception of a _pastoral_ movement, which certainly is anything but suited to so active, so almost riotous a passion, the composer has well designed his work, but wanted vigour in the execution.

No. 4, ~Grief~, is evidently the work of a thinking composer, and of a very good musician. There are some excellent points in this; but the want of unity in the poem has necessarily influenced the composer. We conceive that each passion should have stood alone, unweakened by any adjunct. Here we have the pleasure of memory added to the pangs of grief; thus both poetry and music are enfeebled.

The fifth, ~Hope~, is not lyrical poetry--the composer therefore must not be blamed for having made little of it. He does not seem to have spared effort, but his labour has been bestowed on an unfruitful soil.

Mr. Lunn’s ~Despair~ is nearly of the same cast as Virgil’s--

----Moriamur, et in media arma ruamus.

We much prefer Spenser’s, who is found in

‘----darksome cave----
----low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullen mind;
His greasy locks, long growen, and unbound,
Disorder’d hung, about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Look’d deadly dull, and stared as astound.’

The ‘proem’ to this, the actual description of the passion, is graphic; and, if we may use the expression, is graphically set. A modulation here is worth quoting:--

On his bo-som swarth and lank,
Griz-zly tress-es harsh and dank.

LARGHETTO.]

But the rest of the song, though ably composed, is neither more nor less than a moral to the tale, therefore objectionable in our eyes, because abandoning that which ought to have been the sole object,--the passion itself.

The lithographed illustrations have all considerable merit, that of _Joy_ excepted: the work is very well brought out, and proves the liberal views of the society.

* * * * *

PIANO FORTE.

1. ~Grand March~, composed by J. N. Hummel. (Cramer and Co.)

2. ~Second Fantaisie Elegante~, _sur des Motifs favoris de l’Opéra_
Fra Diavolo d’~Auber~, _par_ ~C. Czerny~. (Chappell.)

The first of these is one of those happy effusions of genius that rarely occur, combining originality, most agreeable effect, and that simplicity of construction as well as of notation, which places it within reach of every tolerable player. It is in ~B~ minor, and consists of but five pages.

* * * * *

No. 2 exhibits M. Czerny in a rational shape; he has here not only selected some of the best airs from the popular opera of Auber, but arranged them with taste, and in a manner that will exclude no ordinary performer from benefiting by his fantasia.

* * * * *

1. Terpsichore in Vienna, a ~Divertimento~ _for the Piano-Forte and
Flute, composed by_ ~I. Moscheles~. (Chappell.)

2. ~Gems a la Pixis~, _the German Songs, sung by_ Mad. ~Pixis~,
_composed and arranged by_ ~J. P. Pixis~. Op. 124. (Dean.)

No. 1 is, we conclude, made up of German dance tunes, well blended, and arranged in an easy familiar manner for both instruments, the flute part being almost necessary as an accompaniment, if not what is understood by the term _obbligato_. This is a gay, exhilarating bagatelle; but some few passages, particularly for the left hand, show that it is not intended for mere tyros; and it may, without any loss of caste to the parties, be introduced by performers of the first class.

* * * * *

No. 2 are the very pretty airs sung so often in public last season by Madlle. Pixis, and now very soberly arranged by the composer, making three remarkably pleasing divertimentos, not difficult, short, and sure to be admired by nearly every description of auditors. But the title is curious, considered as coming from the author himself. Few persons have the hardihood to speak of their own productions as ‘Gems;’ and that they are _in the manner of_, or _à la_, Pixis, cannot be denied, seeing that he composed them.

* * * * *

1. ~A First Pasticcio~, _consisting of an Introduction and Airs,
arranged by_ ~T. A. Rawlings~. (Monro and May.)

2. A Second, do. do. do.

3. ~Introduction and Rondo~, on ~Bishop’s~ _Cavatina_, ‘Fear, ne’er
assail me,’ _arranged by_ ~R. Andrews~. (Goulding and D’Almaine).

No. 1 is composed of Shield’s beautiful air, ‘The Streamlet,’ the march in _Mosé_, ‘Il ne sont plus,’ and the Cobourg Waltz; No. 2, of three Swiss airs. These are formed into very easy divertimentos, extremely well adapted for young players; to be occasionally mixed, however, with music of a better description than the Swiss and Cobourg productions.

* * * * *

We are not acquainted with the air of No. 3 in its original state, but it makes a good rondo, and Mr. Andrews’ share in this entitles him to some praise.

* * * * *

1. ~Grand Triumphal March~, _by_ ~J. D. Rohlffs~. Op. 1, No. 1.
(Cramer and Co.)

2. Polonaise, do. do. do. Op. 1, No. 2.

3. ~Trois Bagatelles~, _composées par_ ~Henry Lemoine~. Nos. 1, 2,
and 3. (Wessel and Co.)

No. 1 is clever, without showing much invention. His enharmonic modulation is bold and effective.

* * * * *

No. 2 has cost a good deal of labour without making at all a proportionate return.

* * * * *

The subjects of No. 3 are, the Gallope in _Faust_, a chansonnette of Plantada, and an air in the ‘Sybarites of Florence,’ short and easy, but not possessing much of an interesting kind.

* * * * *

DUETS, PIANO-FORTE.

1. ~Overture~ _to_ ~Rossini’s~ Semiramide, _arranged, with_ Flute,
Violin, and Violoncello _accompaniments_ (ad lib.), _by_ ~W.
Watts~. (Chappell.)

2. Les Jonquilles, ~Deux Rondeaux Mignons~, _composées par_ ~C.
Czerny~. (Wessel and Co.)

3. ~Chorus of Peasants~, _with Introductory Movement, from_
~Weber’s~ Euryanthe, _arranged by_ ~George Perry~. (Blackman.)

The overture to _Semiramide_, Rossini’s fine serious opera, is a most effective work in almost any shape, but as a duet, and with the accompaniments now added to the piano-forte part, it leaves nothing to wish, when performed in private rooms, where loud wind instruments are never heard to advantage, and a drum is unendurable. Mr. Watts’s arrangement is full, but not crowded, and he has given more than usual importance to his instrumental parts, which, however, are not difficult, but form highly valuable additions to the composition.

* * * * *

No. 2 are, ‘Papataci,’ the everlastingly-hacked, worn-out trio from _L’Italiana in Algeri_, and ‘Ah! se a me riede,’ from _Elisa e Claudio_, both extremely well converted into duets, the second part quite easy, the upper not so much so, but far from difficult, and both moderate in length and agreeable in effect.

* * * * *