XIV. I am ready however to confess, that there have lately been
published some excellent compositions, both with respect to the
pleasing elegance of their taste, and the subtilty of the art displayed
in them; but by way of contrast to these, which are very rare, an
innumerable quantity of others have been produced, that to the ears are
insufferable. This arises, partly from people undertaking to compose,
who are not capable of doing it; and partly from ordinary composers
pretending to take licences, which should only be attempted by great
masters.
XV. It fares with music at this time, as it fares with surgery. In the
same manner, that every blood letter of middling ability, takes upon
him the name and occupation of a surgeon, every organist and violin
player, of reasonable dexterity, sets himself up for a composer. This
they can do, with little difficulty or labour, for they have only to
get by heart, the general rules of consonance and dissonance; and then,
from the numberless manuscripts, or printed violin sonatas with which
the world abounds, take the first light air which occurs, or seems
pleasing to them, and apply the tone of that air to the words; and
as the voice proceeds, they, by those general rules, go on covering
it with a dry accompanyment, which contains neither imitation nor
excellence; and between the pauses of the voice, they may introduce
a burst of violins for ten or a dozen bars, more or less, provided
that is the stile of the sonata from whence they made the theft. If
they would content themselves with doing no more than this, we might
be brought to endure their productions: but the worst of the evil
is, that from an affectation of being thought superior to trivial
composition, they introduce false concords, without preparing, or being
able to resolve them, and by that means, make terrible blemishes,
and commit faults, that are inexcusable; and because also, they see
some illustrious composers, dispense with the common rules, and take
liberties, such as writing two-fifths, or two octaves immediately
following each other, which they do only for the sake of introducing
a good passage, or to attain some excellence of harmony, and which,
without taking such a liberty, they could not have effected: and
although these never take such a latitude, but under particular
circumstances, and subject to certain limitations; the others have the
audacity to attempt it, out of time, and when it can answer no purpose
whatever; by which means, they are thrown to the ground with such
violence, that the stroke of their fall is shocking to the ear.
XVI. Middling composers, although, by endeavouring to tread in the
steps of the excellent ones, they do not fall into such gross errors,
generally form a music, which at some times is lifeless, and at others
turgid. This is occasioned by their introducing accidentals, and
changing the keys in the same piece; which method, if practised by
great masters, who used it seasonably and opportunely, not only gives a
greater sweetness to the music, but communicates to the words, a more
striking impression, than they of themselves, without this assistance,
could convey or produce. Some strangers had a happy talent at doing
this; but no one understood it better, than our Don Antonio de Literes,
a composer of the first rate, and who is perhaps the only one, who
knows how to unite all the majesty and sweetness of the antient music,
with the bustle and hurry of the modern; but in the management of
the accidental points, he has a singular address, for almost every
time he introduces them, they give an energy to the music, which is
correspondent to, and strengthens the signification of the words they
fall on. To do this, requires both genius and science, but much more
genius than science. From this deficiency in point of genius, we find
masters in Spain, of great knowledge and comprehension, who were
not so happy as to succeed in this way; so that, although in their
compositions we admire the subtilty of their art, their works do not
obtain the approbation of our ears.
XVII. Those who are unassisted by genius, and who, on the other hand,
do not possess more than a moderate knowledge of music, make false
concordances, introduce accidentals, and change the keys, because doing
so is the fashion; and because they are fond of having it thought, they
know how to manufacture these sort of airs; although, in reality, they
seldom produce any air at all; and notwithstanding their compositions
are conformable to the common rules, still they are unsavoury, and
disagreeable; and when they are performed in the church, instead of
producing that sweet calm, and inward composure which are requisite to
devotion, they excite perturbations in the hearts of the hearers.
XVIII. Between the first and second of these, there comes in another
sort of composers, who, though in point of abilities, are above
mediocrity, they for sacred compositions are the worst of all. These
are they, who sport with, and run the changes, upon all the delicacies
music is capable of; but dispose them in such a manner, that the melody
produced, has the sound of pantomime airs. All the irregularities
they practise, either in false concordances, or accidentals, are
introduced as graces, but graces very different from those recommended
by St. Paul in his Epistle to the Colossians: _Ingratia cantantes in
cordibus vestris Deo_: instead of such; they are graces of banter, and
harmonies of indecency; and are a sort of passages, the best of which,
the musicians themselves call childish and apish. Are such proper for
the church? Let them, in God’s name, be sent to the courts of the
comedies, and the halls of the dance. But is it not an impious abuse,
to introduce into the house of God, things which are trifling, apish
and indecent? And is not the blending them with divine worship, an
abominable error?
XIX. Is not this attempting to banish from music, all enlivening
chearfulness, except that which savours of the puerile and buffoon?
Music may be exceedingly chearful, and at the same time, impregnated
with a majestic gravity, capable of exciting in the hearers, affections
of respect and devotion: or, to speak more properly, the most chearful
and delectable music of all, is that which induces a sweet tranquillity
in the soul; collecting it within itself, and let us say, elevating it
with a kind of extatic rapture, superior to the body it is attached to;
that the mind may take a flight, towards the mansions of bliss, and
contemplate divine things in a nearer point of view. This is the sort
of chearful music, which St. Austin approved as useful in churches,
and which he treated St. Athanasius with excessive severity for having
objected to; because its proper effect, is elevating those hearts to
noble affections, which are oppressed and weighed down with earthly
inclinations: _Ut per hæc oblectamenta aurium infirmior animus in
affectum pietatis assurgat._ (Lib. 10. Confess. cap. 32.)
XX. It is true, that the masters capable of forming this noble kind
of melody, are very few; but those who can’t attain this degree of
perfection, should content themselves with doing something less; taking
care however, that their compositions should tend to excite such
dispositions, as are suitable to divine offices; or at least being
careful, that they should not conduce to promote inclinations of an
opposite nature; and at all events, although it should be at the hazard
of disobliging the multitude, to shun those skittish sort of airs,
which have a certain occult relation to forbidden affections; but of
the two evils into which church music is in danger of falling, that of
its being offensive to the ears, is a less mischief, than that of its
being an incentive to vice.
XXI. The power of music to stir the passions, and raise in the minds
of men, dispositions to virtue or vice, is very well known. It is
related of Pythagoras, that, having by music adapted to produce such an
effect, inflamed the heart of a certain youth to a dishonourable amour,
he afterwards, by changing the tone, reduced him to the dominion of
continence. It is also related of Timotheus, a musician of Alexander
the Great, that he could irritate the martial fury of that prince to
such a degree, that he would seize on his arms, and put himself in
an attitude, as if his enemies were in front, and he on the point of
charging them. This effect, however, was the less surprising, because
the natural disposition of the prince, conspired to assist the skill
of the artist. Some add, that after having enraged, he calmed him; and
caused Alexander, who never turned his back on any danger, to become a
fugitive from his own rage. But what is told of the power of another
musician, which was exercised on Henry II. King of Denmark, called the
Good, is more extraordinary than all this; for it is said, that by a
movement and touch, calculated to excite choler, he inflamed the rage
of that prince to such a degree, that he fell upon, and put to death,
three or four of his domestics, and would have carried the havoc and
devastation still further, if he had not been restrained by violence.
This was the more wonderful, because the king’s natural disposition,
was gentle and peaceable.
XXII. I don’t imagine the musicians of these times can perform such
miracles, neither perhaps did the antient ones; for these histories
are not extracted from Holy Writ. It is however certain, that music,
according as the melody is varied, induces in the mind a variety of
dispositions, some good, others bad. With one we find ourselves moved
to sorrow, with another to mirth; with one to clemency, with another to
blood; with one to fortitude, with another to pusillanimity; and so on
with respect to other inclinations.
XXIII. There is no doubt of the justness of this remark; neither is
there any, that a master, who composes for the church, should dispose
the music in such a way, and write it in such a stile, as is best
calculated to promote the spiritual welfare of souls; and to sustain
the majesty, decorum, and solemnity of divine worship. St. Thomas,
touching upon this point, says, the chant was a salutary institution
in the church, because it excited sickly souls, that is, such as were
weak in spirit, to devotion. But, alas! what would the saint say, if
he was to hear in the church some of the airs of these times, which,
so far from fortifying the sick, enfeeble the healthy; which, instead
of promoting devotion in the breast, banish it from the soul; and
instead of elevating the mind to pious reflections, bring to the memory
forbidden things? I repeat it again, that it is an obligation on
musicians, and a very serious one, to correct this abuse.
XXIV. Truly, when I reflect on the serious turn of mind for which
Spaniards heretofore were remarkable, I can’t help being struck
with amazement, to find at present, that we can relish no other but
puppet-shew music. This looks as if the celebrated Spanish gravity, was
reduced to nothing more, than stalking stiff and erect up and down the
street. The Italians, by means of the false flattering insinuation,
that music has been improved of late days, have made us the slaves of
their taste. I, for my own part, believe what they call improvement, to
be ruin and destruction, or something very near it. All intellectual
arts, of whose excellencies, the understanding and the taste, cloathed
with an equal degree of authority are judges, have their points, or
zenith of perfection, which when they are once arrived at, he who
attempts to advance them, commonly occasions their decline, and puts
them in a train, which leads to their destruction.
XXV. It will perhaps, with respect to the science of music, happen
to Italy very soon, if it has not happened there already, just as
it happened to it with regard to the Latin language, oratory, and
poetry. These faculties, in the age of Augustus, arrived to that state
of propriety, beauty, elegance, and natural energy, in which their
true perfection consisted. Those who succeeded to that age, pretended,
by the violent introduction of improper ornaments, to refine them;
by doing which, they precipitated them from Nature to affectation,
and from thence they afterwards fell into barbarism. The poets who
succeeded Virgil, and the orators who succeeded Cicero, were thoroughly
persuaded in themselves, that they had given new graces, and new
excellencies to the two arts; but the keen Petronius Arbiter, after
upbraiding them with their ridiculous and pompous affectation, told
them very plainly, what in reality they had done: _Vos primi omnium
eloquentiam perdidistis._