But this is not all. Not only are the airs which harmonies are intended to decorate generally meagre and worthless, it would appear that no other airs than those are fit for conjunction with harmonies. It is certainly true that, whenever the apathetic Germans have attempted to harmonize the impassioned airs and exquisite melodies of Scotland and Ireland, they have ruined them, and disgusted every person of pure and natural taste.
The purpose, then, to which harmony is applicable is not to the expression of pure, simple, continuous, deep, and intense passion—the very highest purpose of musical expression,—but to the expression either of the slightly modified and less definite feelings, or of the more variable, and even jarring sentiments of several persons, purposes far inferior to the former.
It is evident that, where several persons express musically somewhat similar sentiments on the same subject, they may naturally sing in harmony; and where these sentiments occur at intervals of time slightly extended, they may even be supposed to chant in that regulated succession which constitutes fugue. Hence harmony is peculiarly suited to many voices, where deep pathos and passion are impossible; and it is an abuse to apply it to the higher species of music.
It is evident, too, that, in descriptive or epic music, harmony may form the background of the picture—the accompaniment of the narration,—in the front of which some kind of melody appears; and of this the most admirable examples are to be found in the works of Beethoven, the most profound and philosophical of composers. But whoever mistakes this for the highest species of music is not in a condition to understand the present paper.
It is in fact, the absence of pathos and passion among the Gothic races of modern Europe, that has led to the substitution of harmony for melody. At the same time, their excellence in mechanical invention has enabled them greatly to improve instruments, which, however suited to the former, are incapable of the feeling and the meaning, the expression and the delicacy, which essentially belong to the latter. And again, the deficiency of instruments in these most important qualities has led to those strong basses and accompaniments which fill up the vacuity. Music, consequently, has sometimes degenerated into a series of tricks which do not rank above rope-dancing or the ballet.
One word may now properly be added on instrumental accompaniments. They are the natural resource of performers who are destitute either of feeling or of voice. They may be comparatively beautiful when associated with these, but they are absolutely offensive when they interfere with the expression of deep feeling by a beautiful voice.
The best instrumental accompaniment is consequently that which least interferes with the voice—not the continuous sounds of wind or bowed instruments (for their music is rather the poor unfeeling substitute for, than the accompaniment of, fine vocal music), but the light touch of the string of the harp, the guitar, or the lyre, which, while it verifies the accuracy, least interferes with the feeling of vocal expression.
Hence the great masters of art, the Greeks, employed so simple an instrument as the guitar (their κιθαρα being obviously its original), or the lyre, which appears to have been simpler and better still. I rejoice, therefore, to see the former becoming as fashionable in England as it has long been on the Continent.
DONALD WALKER.