No IV.

VOL. I.

CURSORY REMARKS ON MUSIC, ESPECIALLY ON THE SOURCES OF THE

CATES.

*

THE pleasures which are interwoven with the constitution of our nature, and which, under proper regulation, become important sources of our happiness, may be divided into three classes-1stly, Those which arise from the gratification of the bodily senses; 2dly, Those of which the exercise of the imagination is the chief, if not the only quality ;-and lastly, Those of a mixed nature, in which the intellectual faculties are excited into agreeable action by impressions made on the animal senses. The first class cannot require, and indeed do not admit of, illustration. All that can be affirmed respecting them is, that certain objects in the surrounding world are adapted to excite pleasurable sensations with sufficient universality to entitle them to be called naturally agreeable. We are gratified by certain tastes and smells, and can give no explanation of the cause of our enjoyment. It is of a kind which lasts no longer than the impression itself, and terminates with the removal of its object. But the higher classes of our pleasures, being renewable by voluntary efforts of the mind, and depending on the exercise of its various faculties (of perception, of association, of judgment, of imagination), become fit objects of that branch of science, the dignity and im

Read to a Literary and Philosophical Society in the country.

In

The inquiry, respecting which I have no higher purpose than that of offering a few hints to serve as the basis of an evening's conversation, re- gards a class of pleasures, which all civilized nations, in all ages, have thought worthy of cultivation. those records of remotest history, the sacred writings, we find repeated mention of the cornet, the trumpet, the psalter, the cymbal, and the harp, and always in connexion with their power of exciting pleasant trains of feeling, or of contributing to some moral effect. Among the Greeks, music was practised by those who had attained the highest distinction as warriors or philosophers, and was thought not unworthy the countenance and encouragement of one of the wisest and least voluptuous of ancient legislators. The Hindûs, also, the high antiquity of whose records appears to be established by sufficient evidence, have possessed, from the earliest period to which their history extends, a music, confined indeed to thirty-six melodies. In modern times, none, I believe, but absolutely barbarous nations, are entirely destitute of music. Among the North American Indians, we are informed by Mr Weld, that nothing resembling poetry or music is to be found; but among the more gentle and civilized inhabitants of some of the Society islands, a sort of music (rude, it must be confessed, and little calculated to please an European ear) was

Lycurgus.

ascertained by Captain Cook to be the accompaniment of dancing, which, for the grace of its movements, would not have discredited an Italian opera.

Pleasures so universally felt as those of music, may be inferred to have their foundation in some quality common to human nature, and independent of local or temporary circumstances. It may be inquired, whether this pleasure is to be referred merely to the gratification of the ear as an organ of sense, or whether it is not entitled to the higher rank of an intellectual enjoyment?

In the discussion of this question, it must be acknowledged at the outset, that a structure of the ear, distinct from that which adapts it to the quick perception of ordinary sounds, probably exists in those individuals who are distinguished by an aptitude to derive pleasure from music. The observation of children, in early infancy, affords sufficient evidence of the partial endowment of what has been called a musical ear. Among children of the same family, it is common to meet with the most striking differences in the power of catching and repeating tunes-differences which bear no proportion to the degree of sensibility, as indicated by other circumstances. Nothing is more usual also, than to find persons who, in the course of a long life, have never been able to acquire a relish for music, though frequently thrown into situations where to hear it became matter of necessity. And this defect is observed, not in the dull and insensible only, but in persons alive to all that is excellent in poetry, in painting, and in other polite arts. Pope, who has perhaps never been surpassed in the melody of versification, is recorded by Dr Johnson to have been incapable of receiving pleasure from music. And it is still more remarkable, that the exquisite art of modulating the voice, which enables it to express all those delicate shades of emotion and passion, that so powerfully affect us in the eloquence of the stage, the bar, and the senate, has been practised by individuals insensible even to the charms of a simple melody. Garrick was a striking instance of wonderful command over the tones of the voice in speaking, united, we are told, with the total deficiency of a musical ear.

These defects of the ear can no

more be explained, than we can account for the inability to discriminate particular colours, which has been ascertained to exist in certain individuals, or the insensibility to some odours, which has been observed in other persons. Admitting them to exist, they do not warrant the conclusion, that the pleasure derived from music consists solely in the gratification of the organ of hearing. A certain perfection of the physical structure of the eye is necessary to render it an inlet to those impressions from the surrounding world, which, when afterwards recalled by the mind, and variously combined, constitute the pleasures of imagination. But no one would conténd, that the enjoyment derived from a contemplation of the charms of external nature is a sensual pleasure, of which the eye alone is the seat and the instrument.

It appears, moreover, to be consistent with observation, that, even in the same individual, the capacity of being affected by musical sounds admits of considerable variety; and that it is modified, especially by the state of the nervous system, independently of the influence of those moral causes which will be afterwards pointed out.* Dr Doddridge has related a remarkable instance of a lady, who had naturally neither ear nor voice for music, but who became capable of singing, when in a state of delirium, several fine tunes, to the admiration of all about her.† And I remember a young gentleman, addicted to somnambulism, and rather insensible than otherwise to pleasure from music, who has repeatedly found himself leaning from an open window during the night, and listening (as he imagined till awakened) to delightful music in the street.

Another fact, which may safely be assumed as the basis of our reasoning on this subject, is, that there are certain sounds which are naturally agreeable to all ears, and others which are naturally unpleasant, independently of all casual associations. The soft tones of a flute, the notes of certain

*

birds, the swelling sounds of the Eolian harp, and the melody of the human voice, have some quality inherent in them, which would render them, even if heard for the first time, universally delightful. But the creaking of a door, or the jar produced by the filing of a saw, can convey pleasure to no one, and must excite, on the contrary, universal antipathy and disgust. All the sounds,' says Cowper in one of his letters," that nature utters are agreeable, at least in this country. I should not, perhaps, find the roaring of lions in Africa, or of bears in Russia, very pleasing; but I know no beast in England, whose voice I do not account musical, save, and except always, the braying of an ass. The notes of all our birds and fowls please me, without one exception; and as to insects, if the black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of the rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they sing, "from the gnat's fine treble to the bass of the humble bee, I admire them all. Seriously, however (he continues), it strikes me as a very observable instance of providential kindness to man, that such an exact accord has been contrived between his ear, and the sounds with which, at least in a rural situation, it is almost every moment visit ed."+

The source of the pleasure derived from music must be investigated, not by an examination of that which prevails in polished society, complicated, as it is, with various refinements that are not essential to it; but as it exists, in its simplest form, in those melodies which delight an untutored ear, and which powerfully affect the heart, even when they do not recall to the fancy scenes in which they have been heard, or events with which they have been associated.

That music has the capacity of exciting lively emotions, must be decided by an appeal to the experience of those who are sensible to its pleasures. From minds thus constituted, it can often banish one train of feelings, and replace them with another of opposite complexion and character, especially when the transition is made with skill and delicacy. It can soothe the anguish of sorrow and disappointment,

• See Knight on Taste. + Letter cxvii.

Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow. Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,

And the world's Victor stood subdued by sound."

It is to be observed, however, of the emotions occasioned by music, that they are referable only to a class; and that they have never that distinct appropriation which belongs to the creations of the sister arts of poetry and painting. When we listen for the first time to a simple melody, it is its general character only that we are able to perceive. We are conscious that it kindles cheerful or melancholy feelings, without being able to refer them to any individual object. Now, I believe, there is no way in which our sensibility can be thus affected, except by the association of certain ideas with sounds, or successions of sound, which we have formerly heard, not perhaps precisely the same in kind, but belonging to the same class. And if we seek for the original prototypes of those tones, which, by their rhythm and cadences, become capable of exciting emotions, they will be found, I apprehend, in natural sounds, as well as in natural expressions of feeling, that were antecedent to all oral language, and are universal to human nature. Cheerfulness naturally disposes to quick and sudden changes of tone and gesture; and melancholy has the effect of weakening the voice, and of producing low and slowly measured accents. The gentle and tender feelings of pastoral life find a natural expression, in tones corresponding with them in delicacy and softness. And the idea of sublimity is almost necessarily annexed to sounds, of which loudness is one but not the only element, and which, though they may have no strict analogy with the

roll of thunder, or the roaring of the cataract, have it yet in common with this impressive language of nature, that they are associated with our first notions of magnitude and power.

Hence it is, that music is to be considered as an imitative art; but its imitations, to be a source of pleasure, must be extremely general, and must seldom indeed descend from the class to the individual. All such attempts at close resemblance fail of their purpose, and even become ridiculous. This has been well illustrated by Mr Avison, in his excellent Essay on Musical Expression, in which, speaking of composers addicted to too close imitation, he observes, "Were any of these gentlemen to set to music the following words of Milton,

• Their songs Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven.'

It is probable, that on the word divide he would run a division on half a dozen bars; and, in the subsequent part of the sentence, he would not think he had risen to the heights of sublimity till he had climbed to the very top of his instrument, or at least as high as the human voice could follow him." This servility of imitation has been also happily ridiculed by Swift, in his "Proposals for a Cantata," in which the words high and deep have high and deep notes set to them; a series of short notes of equal length is introduced to imitate shivering and shaking; a sudden rise of the voice, from a very low to a very high pitch, to denote flying above the sky, with several other droll contrivances of a similar nature.

It is on this principle (namely, of a general resemblance only between the tones of music and those expressive of an ordinary feeling) that we are to explain some facts which have been stated by an ingenious writer, who was himself distinguished both as a proficient in the science of music, and an accomplished judge of its excellence. In a work, entitled "The Four Ages," the late Mr Jackson of Exeter has endeavoured to prove, that there is no natural alliance between

poetry and music. He alleges, for example, that the song and chorus of "Return, O Lord of Hosts," in the Oratorio of Samson, might with equal success have been adapted to the complaints of a lover. The old psalm

tunes, he adds, so expressive to us of religious solemnity, were, in the French court, applied to licentious songs; and the fine melody adapted to the 100th psalm, was sung to a popular love ditty. An instance also occurs to my own recollection, of the successful adaptation of a fine song of Purcell* to the purpose of a psalm tune.

Conversions like these could never (as Mr Jackson has observed) have succeeded, if the imitations of music were more than extremely general, and if poetry had not the power of determining what idea the music should express.

A general accordance, however, between the language of poetry and the music adapted to it, may in all cases be reasonably required. It is at least essential, that the air and the poetry should not be at variance-that a lively melody, for example, should not convey the language of grief or complaint; and that a solemn or plaintive air should not be associated with gay or exhilarating verse. Under the guidance of composers of judgment and taste, music and poetry are powerful auxiliaries of each other; for while music exalts the sensibility of the mind, and by its general tendency disposes it to lively emotions, poetry gives vividness to our impressions, and turns to shape the indistinct images of the fancy.

That music was originally derived from the natural language of passion and emotion, is rendered highly probable, by inquiring into the history of the early melodies of all countries that possess a national music.-" All the songs of the Lowlands of Scotland (says Dr Beattie, in his excellent Essays on Poetry and Music) are expressive of love and tenderness, and of other emotions suited to the tranquillity of pastoral life. The music adapted to them," he is of opinion, "probably took its rise among men who were real shepherds, and who actually felt the sensations and affections whereof it is so very expressive." Mr Ritson is also of the same opinion. It cannot (he observest) be reasonably doubted, that many, if not most, or even all the celebrated and popular Scottish melodies now extant, as distinguished from the Highland airs,

"Come unto these yellow sands." In his Essay on Scottish Song.