Many readers will be glad to have this example of Greek music, just to see what it is like. The words must be left to experts who can sing them, for it would be of little use to add them here; and whosoever is disposed for further enquiry will find the adapted harmony by G. A. Macfarren in Mr. W. Chappell’s book. The above is transposed a fourth lower than according to the mode assigned to it, and an octave higher than the pitch as for a man’s voice. The transposition is in accordance with the system of Claudius Ptolemy, who showed how much too high for use the Greek hymns were if taken at the pitch that had been assigned to them.
The second of the three hymns is a “Hymn to Apollo,” and is less tunable in style; the third is a “Hymn to Nemesis,” sung to the sound of the lyre. No one of the manuscripts is older than fourteen centuries. The authorship of the first two hymns is attributed to Dionysius; in any case the inferences lead to the placing of the date not earlier than from the second to the fourth century of our era. Considering all these indications of the state of our knowledge of Greek music, we cannot wonder at the great and exciting interest aroused by the veritable music on marble so fortunately recovered.
The Greek hymn that was found at Delphi inscribed in marble upon the inner wall of the ancient treasure house, has been sung at Athens. After two thousand years the music lives again. But with what a difference—revivified, yet only strangely alive! Those who incised the hymn, imperishably as they thought upon the marble surface—they had themselves given voice to it, had joined in the sacred service, and felt the thrill of the thousand surrounding voices of a people who believed in their gods. Who now believes? Apollo and the Muses are far off, and the great god Pan is dead. No, the music cannot be the same, for the ears that listen have lost that inheritance of nature which was the birthright of those early worshippers at the Temple of Delphi. Neither priest nor oracle speak; our privilege as quite a modern people, is to listen to The Times own correspondent. We are told that
The composition is in the Hypo-Dorian mode, and, like most ancient musical compositions, is in a minor key, and written in a peculiar time, with five crotchets to the bar. It was rendered by a quartet of male voices. Some passages are surprisingly modern in character, and the whole composition possesses much of the dignity of the finest German chorales.
And, further, we hear that the hymn was encored. Think of that! The first time, no doubt, of being honoured in such a fashion. What would they have said at Delphi? It is all pastime now, not prayer. And another correspondent gives assurance that
The performance, which lasted but half-an-hour, was a great success; it produced a profound impression on the audience. Everyone present indeed was ravished by the charm of the music, and its mingled originality, simplicity and grandeur.
Well, I suppose that it is all right; but it is terribly artificial in the reading. You cannot but note that the restorers have been at work; the harmonization by M. Reinach has no doubt been well done. But with that kind of certainty any simple melody of a few notes may be made impressive. A modern quartet! It sounds incongruous, and makes one think of a top hat on a marble statue; and you cannot help the suspicion that the musical composition made tasty was not Greek music. Although we are condemned by our advancement to see and hear according to modern ways, the interest in this Greek fragment remains; and we all of us curiously want to have the music brought within the range of our own perception, and are presented with the Greek Hymn to Apollo in modern notation, with an imagined suitable harmonization.
The adapted harmony must be taken for what it is worth in relation to music as we require it, and not as upon any evidence in a style likely to have been that used in the Greek singing of the hymn. Indeed, it is difficult to understand upon what principle such a concoction can be justified, for surely the original music has been so dished up to suit the modern palate that the ancient author would be unable to recognise his own hand in it. This harmonized version may rank as French confections in a drawing room entertainment, and help to pass away the time as the latest novelty; but as for any relation to Greek art, only as a travesty can it be taken seriously. The value of the find, as I view it, is that this rescued relic of an elder civilization should help to enable us to realize the actual nature of Greek art in music, and its place in Greek life—either that or nothing; the value is lost if simplicity is lost.
The melody as melody does not attract us; this, as will be seen, Mr. J. P. Mahaffy confirms in his critical remarks, and therefore that is all the more reason why I should plead for sincerity in treatment. Not a note should be altered, not a note should be added to make the flow more agreeable, not a sign or modification be permitted for the sake of smoothness or grace. How eagerly we read a child’s letter; how much such young effort interests us because it is the genuine presentment of a child’s thoughts; how utterly insignificant it would be to us if we knew that it had been vamped up by a teacher. So with this hymn; it came into existence, when music as an art was young, and we want to understand it purely and simply in its youthfulness; and for no other reason than that it was a participant in Greek life, when men believed in the gods they worshipped.
Mr. J. P. Mahaffy, in a paper entitled “Recent Archæology,” makes some interesting remarks upon the chronicled event. He states that