Every nation has always had, as it now has, its own peculiar and distinctive style of expressing emotion through the agency of the voice. Barbarous as the first developments of musical ability may have been, they nevertheless expressed the peculiar and characteristic feeling of the people who employed them. With one nation the style was melancholy, with another pensive, with another light, and with a fourth lively. Some delighted to denote their ideas in the junction of lengthened and monotonous sounds, expressive of grief; others in short changing accents; of carelessness or indifference; and others in the deep measured sounds of martial melody. These distinctions still exist in so marked a degree among different people as to entitle them to the appellation of national musical characteristics.
It is generally believed, and not without good grounds, that the earlier attempts at producing musical effect by the union of a considerable number of voices and instruments, were not remarkable for any of that variety which invests with so many attractions the music of a later period. All the singers enunciated the same notes, and in the same time—very much in the style which large prayer-meetings adopt in the open air. The manner in which the beauty and diversity of concords and discords were first discovered, and the precise era at which such discovery was made, are also matters which are reserved for some later and more successful laborer. This branch of the science of music has, perhaps, undergone greater alteration and improvement than any other. It is by no means an uninteresting study, first to imagine the absence of all knowledge of chords among the first inhabitants of our globe; then to look over the works of the earliest masters whose compositions are still extant, and then to follow the publications of later writers down to the present day, observing at each stage the wonderful differences which exist in the instrumental writings of every age.
The act of committing sounds to paper, although very old, must still be regarded, comparatively with the birth of music, as of late discovery. Transferring mere sound from the mind to the paper, without the assistance of any intermediate articulation is a wonder equally great, to say the least of it, as is the act of writing words. Yet no one gives a thought to the invention of the marvel. The fame of Cadmus is diffused over the habitable globe, while the mastermind which first conceived the possibility of recording his thoughts on and in a few parallel lines by means of dots and scratches, causes no inquiry and excites no admiration.
The task of organizing and perfecting so complete and infallible a scheme must have been immense. In the first place the distance, so to speak, between each tone of which the human voice is capable was to be defined by certain laws and rules, and represented by distinctive marks. Then the length or duration of each tone in any given air was to be marked separately or in junction with other tones, without deranging the qualities of any or detracting from the harmony of the whole. Then were to be encountered the difficulties incidental to changes of the key-note or tone. On discovering that the human voice, after executing seven notes, among which are five tones and two semitones, produced, in ascending to the eighth, a tone exactly similar to the first, it was necessary to construct a scale of keys which would always place the two semitones in exactly the same position, and in the same relation to the full tones. Lastly, and perhaps more wonderful than all, a proper and minute division of TIME was to be effected. That inherent appreciation of what musicians term “time,” which almost every human being possesses naturally, but which few understand, and none can explain, was to be expressed and defined. Divisions and subdivisions were to be demonstrated and made clear. This was the task of tasks. Savages, who never heard of the existence of such a science as music, are known to clap their hands in unison at certain measurable periods in their wild songs. They observe the law of musical time, without having the slightest conception of what time is. Nor are we much better now. We can write time as well as tune, but we know not now, nor have we yet been able to analyze or detect the instinct which teaches us, as it does the Savages, at what periods of any given air we should mark time. Yet thousands of persons, singing together, will “beat” at the same instant. No one knows why or wherefore it should be so. We only feel that it is so, and that human ingenuity has enabled us to write and otherwise to mark time. The order of intellect, which first discovered the means of doing even this little, must have been very high indeed.
The difference between the musical instruments of our time and those of a former age, is another interesting subject of inquiry. The Bible mentions the timbrel, the ram’s horn, the reed, the harp, silver trumpets, and other equally rude inventions. From later classical writers we learn the existence of the pipe and tabor, the lyre, the lute, and others. In the records of a much more advanced period, we find mention of the harpsichord, whence we have obtained our present tolerably perfect piano forte. The gradations from the instrumental knowledge mentioned in the Bible down to the astonishing state of improvement to which the art of manufacturing musical instruments has arrived, have been slow but steady. It is possible that our posterity will look back upon our piano fortes, our violins, violincellos, double basses, cornets, trombones, bassoons, oboes, clarionets, flageolets, flutes, harps, French-horns, serpents, opheclides, guitars, tenors, and kettle-drums, with great contempt. Perhaps even our organ, which is an ancient invention, will not escape the critical censure of a coming age. And there can be little doubt that much remains yet to be known in the manufacture of musical instruments. It may be said with much reason that the only perfect instruments now in use are the violin, the violincello, the double-bass, the tenor, and one or two others. On these any tone of which their compass is capable can be produced in every possible variety of execution. The piano forte, delightful as are its powers, cannot produce a gliding sound from one note to the other; neither can it prolong a note for any length of time without losing at its termination the vigor with which it produced the tone at its commencement. In addition to these disadvantages it labors under another which is common to all wind instruments. It can produce full tones, diatonic semitones, and chromatic semitones, but it cannot yield an enharmonic tone. On the piano forte, on the harp, and on all wind instruments, (with the exception of the organ in the Temple Church, London,[[1]]) G flat is F sharp; A flat is G sharp; E sharp is F natural; B sharp is C natural; E flat is D sharp, and so on. The difference is so nicely arranged as scarcely to strike the finest ear; but it is undoubtedly an obstacle in the way of perfection which will most probably be overcome by and by. The organ in the Temple Church, in London, which we have made an exception to the above complaint, is a curious specimen. The black notes are split, in order to provide for the production of enharmonic tones, and the effect on a nice ear is very agreeable.
As the majority of organs are not made on the last named principle they must be classed among the imperfect instruments. At the same time, it is believed that general opinion unites in ascribing to the organ the first place among instruments. It is capable of prolonging sounds, of producing multiplied chords, of modulating and swelling its tones at the option of the performer, of suppressing or expanding its volume, and, in a word, of doing every thing which any other instrument can perform, except of gliding from one note to another.
There are now extant several specimens of the style of music in use among the monks of the earlier Christian ages. These examples are very curious, and, to the casual observer, extremely interesting. The airs are written on four lines, and are marked with treble and bass clefs, but they would appear to have been intended almost entirely for the use of singers. Instrumental music of that period is much more rare and uncommon. The compositions alluded to are very feeble, and evince an ignorance of the extent to which musical sounds might be made available. They are merely loose themes without any attempt whatever at artistic effect. As time wore on, the writing on five lines instead of on four became universally adopted in Europe, and the style of composition gradually improved.
The English nation have never been remarkable for musical genius. As late in their history as the accession of the house of Hanover, the greater part of their music came from abroad. Nor were there any great instrumental performers among them. It is only of comparatively late years that any thing like a talent for composition has sprung up among them, and even now they are so far behind most other nations in the art, as to hold a very insignificant position in the musical world. While the music of all other countries has in it something distinctively and peculiarly characteristic, English melodies (if we except their glees and madrigals) have none. The late operas which have been brought out in London, betray an attempt at servile imitation of the Italian school; but the English have not a writer at the present day whose compositions manifest the slightest originality: and with the exception of Dr. Arne, Cabott, Bishop, Rolf, Rooke, and one or two others, their musical works are devoid of conception, character, or beauty. At the same time it must be admitted that there is nothing finer in the world than the English glees and madrigals. These possess a truly definitive character. They are really English, and bear about the same relation to the smooth strains of Italy and Germany, as the bluff, straight-forward yeoman does to the French exquisite. They are at once original, heart-stirring, and amusing. Many of the madrigals exhibit a great amount of artistic skill and musical acquirement, and, when well executed, they are extremely entertaining. Some of the English anthems are also very excellent, but the attempt to imitate the German school is too apparent throughout. They are not the less agreeable on this account, but they lose the charm which would attach to originality.
The English are, as a nation, fond of music, but their love for it seldom reaches the enthusiasm which is felt for the art by a German, an Italian, a Frenchman, or a Spaniard. It would, perhaps, be more correct to say that the English admire music rather than that they love it. The uneducated classes will gladly listen to music, but they are never moved by it. They may learn or become acquainted with certain airs, but they never impart to what they sing or whistle that elegance or depth of feeling which a really musical mind never fails to throw into an air which pleases him.
The Scotch music, without possessing much claim to art, has a decidedly characteristic feature. It is unlike the compositions of any other country. Even their quickest airs have something peculiarly melancholy in their style, which is touching and agreeable. The principal feature in Scotch music is the frequent introduction of short, catching sounds before long notes.