characters of ancient and modern versification, and to point out the
difference beyond any possibility of mistake. But they have made
distinctions, where in fact there was no difference, and left the
criterion unobserved. They have transferred the name of rhyme to a
regular repetition of the same sound at the end of the line, and
set up this vile monotony as the characteristic of modern verse, in
contradistinction to the feet of the ancients, which they pretend the
poetry of modern languages will not admit.
Rhyme, from the Greek word Ρυθμος, is nothing else but number, which was
essential to the ancient, as well as to the modern versification. As to
the jingle of similar sounds, though it was never used by the ancients in
any regular return in the middle or at the end of the line, and was by
no means deemed essential to the versification, yet they did not reject
it as a blemish, where it occurred without the appearance of constraint.
We meet with it often in the epithets of Homer,——αργυρεοιο βιοιο—αναξ
ανδρων Αγαμεμνων—almost the whole first ode of Anacreon is what we call
rhyme. The following line of Virgil has been admired for the similitude
of sound in the first two words.
_Ore_, _Are_thusa, tuo Siculis confunditur undis.
Rythmus, or number, is certainly essential to verse, whether in the dead
or living languages; and the real difference between the two is this: the
number in ancient verse relates to the feet, and in modern poetry to the
syllables; for to assert that modern poetry has no feet, is a ridiculous
absurdity. The feet, that principally enter into the composition of Greek
and Latin verses, are either of two or three syllables: those of two
syllables are either both long, as the spondee; or both short, as the
pyrrhic; or one short and the other long, as the iambic; or one long, and
the other short, as the trochee. Those of three syllables are the dactyl,
of one long and two short syllables; the anapest, of two short and one
long; the tribrachium, of three short; and the molossus, of three long.
From the different combinations of these feet, restricted to certain
numbers, the ancients formed their different kinds of verses, such as the
hexameter, or heroic, distinguished by six feet dactyls and spondees, the
fifth being always a dactyl, and the last a spondee: _e. g._
1 2 3 4 5 6
Principi-is obs-ta, se-ro medi-cina pa-ratur.
The pentameter of five feet, dactyls and spondees, or of six, reckoning
two cæsuras.
1 2 3 4 5 6
Cum mala per lon-gas invalu-ere mo-ras.
They had likewise the iambic of three sorts, the dimeter, the trimeter,
and the tetrameter, and all the different kinds of lyric verse specified
in the odes of Sappho, Alcæus, Anacreon, and Horace. Each of these was
distinguished by the number, as well as by the species of their feet; so
that they were doubly restricted. Now all the feet of the ancient poetry
are still found in the versification of living languages; for as cadence
was regulated by the ear, it was impossible for a man to write melodious
verse without naturally falling into the use of ancient feet, though
perhaps he neither knows their measure nor denomination. Thus Spenser,
Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, Pope, and all our poets, abound with dactyls,
spondees, trochees, anapests, &c. which they used indiscriminately in
all kinds of composition, whether tragic, epic, pastoral, or ode, having
in this particular greatly the advantage of the ancients, who were
restricted to particular kinds of feet in particular kinds of verse.
If we then are confined with the fetters of what is called rhyme, they
were restricted to particular species of feet; so that the advantages
and disadvantages are pretty equally balanced: but indeed the English
are more free in this particular than any other modern nation. They not
only use blank-verse in tragedy and the epic, but even in lyric poetry.
Milton’s translation of Horace’s Ode to Pyrrha is universally known, and
generally admired, in our opinion, much above its merit. There is an ode
extant without rhyme, addressed to evening, by the late Mr. Collins, much
more beautiful; and Mr. Warton, with some others, has happily succeeded
in divers occasional pieces, that are free of this restraint: but the
number in all of these depends upon the syllables, and not upon the feet,
which are unlimited.
It is generally supposed that the genius of the English language will not
admit of Greek or Latin measure: but this, we apprehend, is a mistake
owing to the prejudice of education. It is impossible that the same
measure, composed of the same times, should have a good effect upon the
ear in one language, and a bad effect in another. The truth is, we have
been accustomed from our infancy to the numbers of English poetry, and
the very sound and signification of the words dispose the ear to receive
them in a certain manner; so that its disappointment must be attended
with a disagreeable sensation. In imbibing the first rudiments of
education, we acquire, as it were, another ear for the numbers of Greek
and Latin poetry, and this being reserved entirely for the sounds and
significations of the words that constitute those dead languages, will
not easily accommodate itself to the sounds of our vernacular tongue,
though conveyed in the same time and measure. In a word, Latin and Greek
have annexed to them the ideas of the ancient measure, from which they
are not easily disjoined. But we will venture to say, this difficulty
might be surmounted by an effort of attention and a little practice; and
in that case we should in time be as well pleased with English as with
Latin hexameters.
Sir Philip Sidney is said to have miscarried in his essays; but his
miscarriage was no more than that of failing in an attempt to introduce a
new fashion. The failure was not owing to any defect or imperfection in
the scheme, but to the want of taste, to the irresolution and ignorance
of the public. Without all doubt, the ancient measure, so different from
that of modern poetry, must have appeared remarkably uncouth to people
in general, who were ignorant of the classics; and nothing but the
countenance and perseverance of the learned could reconcile them to the
alteration. We have seen several late specimens of English hexameters
and sapphics, so happily composed, that by attaching them to the idea of
ancient measure, we found them in all respects as melodious and agreeable
to the ear, as the works of Virgil and Anacreon, or Horace.
Though the number of syllables distinguishes the nature of the English
verse from that of the Greek and Latin, it constitutes neither harmony,
grace, nor expression. These must depend upon the choice of words, the
seat of the accent, the pause, and the cadence. The accent, or tone,
is understood to be an elevation or sinking of the voice in reciting:
the pause is a rest, that divides the verse into two parts, each of
them called an hemistich. The pause and accent in English poetry vary
occasionally, according to the meaning of the words; so that the
hemistich does not always consist of an equal number of syllables; and
this variety is agreeable, as it prevents a dull repetition of regular
stops, like those in the French versification, every line of which is
divided by a pause exactly in the middle. The cadence comprehends that
poetical style, which animates every line; that propriety, which gives
strength and expression; that numerosity, which renders the verse smooth,
flowing, and harmonious; that significancy, which marks the passions,
and in many cases makes the sound an echo to the sense. The Greek and
Latin languages, in being copious and ductile, are susceptible of a vast
variety of cadences, which the living languages will not admit; and of
these a reader of any ear will judge for himself.
XIX.
SCHOOLS OF MUSIC, OBJECTIONS THERETO, AND ANSWERS.
A school in the polite arts properly signifies that succession of
artists, which has learned the principles of the art from some eminent
master, either by hearing his lessons, or studying his works; and
consequently who imitate his manner either through design or from habit.
Musicians seem agreed in making only three principal schools in music;
namely, the school of Pergolese, in Italy, of Lully, in France, and of
Handel, in England; though some are for making Rameau the founder of a
new school, different from those of the former, as he is the inventor of
beauties peculiarly his own.
Without all doubt Pergolese’s music deserves the first rank: though
excelling neither in variety of movements, number of parts, nor
unexpected flights, yet he is universally allowed to be the musical
Raphael of Italy. This great master’s principal art consisted in knowing
how to excite our passions by sounds, which seem frequently opposite to
the passion they would express: by slow solemn sounds he is sometimes
known to throw us into all the rage of battle; and even by faster
movements he excites melancholy in every heart, that sounds are capable
of affecting. This is a talent which seems born with the artist. We are
unable to tell why such sounds affect us: they seem no way imitative of
the passion they would express, but operate upon us by an inexpressible
sympathy, the original of which is as inscrutable as the secret springs
of life itself. To this excellence he adds another, in which he is
superior to every other artist of the profession, the happy transition
from one passion to another. No dramatic poet better knows to prepare
his incidents than he: the audience are pleased in those intervals of
passion with the delicate, the simple harmony, if I may so express it, in
which the parts are all thrown into fugues, or often are barely unison.
His melodies also, where no passion is expressed, give equal pleasure
from this delicate simplicity: and I need only instance that song in the
_Serva Padrona_, which begins _Lo conosco a quegl’ occelli_, as one of
the finest instances of excellence in the duo.
The Italian artists in general have followed his manner, yet seem fond
of embellishing the delicate simplicity of the original. Their style
in music seems somewhat to resemble that of Seneca in writing, where
there are some beautiful starts of thought; but the whole is filled with
studied elegance and unaffecting affectation.
Lully in France first attempted the improvement of their music, which
in general resembled that of our old solemn chants in churches. It is
worthy of remark in general, that the music of every country is solemn
in proportion as the inhabitants are merry; or, in other words, the
merriest, sprightliest nations are remarked for having the slowest
music; and those, whose character it is to be melancholy, are pleased
with the most brisk and airy movements. Thus, in France, Poland, Ireland,
and Switzerland, the national music is slow, melancholy, and solemn;
in Italy, England, Spain, and Germany, it is faster, proportionably as
the people are grave. Lully only changed a bad manner which he found,
for a bad one of his own. His drowsy pieces are played still to the
most sprightly audience that can be conceived; and even though Rameau,
who is at once a musician and philosopher, has shown both by precept
and example, what improvements French music may still admit of, yet his
countrymen seem little convinced by his reasonings; and the Pont-neuf
taste, as it is called, still prevails in their best performances.
The English school was first planned by Parcel: he attempted to unite
the Italian manner that prevailed in his time, with the ancient Celtic
carol and the Scotch ballad, which probably had also its origin in Italy;
for some of the best Scotch ballads (“The Broom of Cowdenknows,” for
instance) are still ascribed to David Rizzio. But be that as it will,
his manner was something peculiar to the English; and he might have
continued as head of the English school, had not his merits been entirely
eclipsed by Handel. Handel, though originally a German, yet adopted the
English manner: he had long laboured to please by Italian composition,
but without success; and though his English oratorios are accounted
inimitable, yet his Italian operas are fallen into oblivion. Pergolese
excelled in passionate sublimity; Lully was remarkable for creating a
new species of music, where all is elegant, but nothing passionate or
sublime: Handel’s true characteristic is sublimity; he has employed all
the variety of sounds and parts in all his pieces: the performances of
the rest may be pleasing, though executed by few performers; his require
the full band. The attention is awakened, the soul is roused up at his
pieces; but distinct passion is seldom expressed. In this particular
he has seldom found success: he has been obliged, in order to express
passion, to imitate words by sounds, which though it gives the pleasure
which imitation always produces, yet it fails of exciting those lasting
affections, which it is in the power of sounds to produce. In a word,
no man ever understood harmony so well as he; but in melody he has been
exceeded by several.
* * * * *
[The following Objections to the preceding Essay having been
addressed to Dr. Smollett (as editor of the British Magazine,
in which it first appeared); that gentleman, with equal
candour and politeness, communicated the MS. to Dr. Goldsmith,
who returned his answers to the objector in the notes
annexed.—Edit.]
Permit me to object against some things advanced in the paper on the
subject of THE DIFFERENT SCHOOLS OF MUSIC. The author of this article
seems too hasty in degrading the harmonious[13] Purcel from the head
of the English school, to erect in his room a foreigner (Handel), who
has not yet formed any school.[14] The gentleman, when he comes to
communicate his thoughts upon the different schools of painting, may as
well place Rubens at the head of the English painters, because he left
some monuments of his art in England.[15] He says, that Handel, though
_originally_ a German (as most certainly he was, and continued so to his
last breath), yet adopted the English manner.[16] Yes, to be sure, just
as much as Rubens the painter did. Your correspondent, in the course of
his discoveries, tells us besides, that some of the best Scotch ballads
(“The Broom of Cowdenknows,” for instance) are still ascribed to David
Rizzio.[17] This Rizzio must have been a most original genius, or have
possessed extraordinary imitative powers, to have come, so advanced in
life as he did, from Italy, and strike so far out of the common road of
his own country’s music.
A mere fiddler,[18] a shallow coxcomb, a giddy, insolent, worthless
fellow, to compose such pieces as nothing but genuine sensibility of
mind, and an exquisite feeling of those passions, which animate only
the finest souls, could dictate; and in a manner too so extravagantly
distant from that to which he had all his life been accustomed!—It is
impossible.—He might indeed have had presumption enough to add some
flourishes to a few favourite airs, like a cobbler of old plays, when he
takes it upon him to mend Shakspeare. So far he might go; but further
it is impossible for any one to believe, that has but just ear enough
to distinguish between the Italian and Scotch music, and is disposed to
consider the subject with the least degree of attention.
S. R.
_March 18, 1760._
FOOTNOTES:
[13] Had the objector said _melodious_ Purcel, it had testified at least
a greater acquaintance with music, and Purcel’s peculiar excellence.
Purcel in melody is frequently great; his song made in his last sickness,
called Rosy Bowers, is a fine instance of this; but in harmony he is far
short of the meanest of our modern composers, his fullest harmonies being
exceedingly simple. His opera of Prince Arthur, the words of which were
Dryden’s, is reckoned his finest piece. But what is that, in point of
harmony, to what we every day hear from modern masters? In short, with
respect to genius, Purcel had a fine one: he greatly improved an art
but little known in England before his time: for this he deserves our
applause; but the present prevailing taste in music is very different
from what he left it, and who was the improver since his time we shall
see by and by.
[14] Handel may be said as justly as any man, not Pergolese excepted,
to have founded a new school of music. When he first came into England,
his music was entirely Italian: he composed for the opera; and though
even then his pieces were liked, yet did they not meet with universal
approbation. In those he has too servilely imitated the modern vitiated
Italian taste, by placing what foreigners call the _point d’orgue_ too
closely and injudiciously. But in his oratorios he is perfectly an
original genius. In these, by steering between the manners of Italy
and England, he has struck out new harmonies, and formed a species of
music different from all others. He has left some excellent and eminent
scholars, particularly Worgan and Smith, who compose nearly in his
manner; a manner as different from Purcel’s as from that of modern Italy.
Consequently Handel may be placed at the head of the English school.
[15] The objector will not have Handel’s school to be called an English
school, because he was a German. Handel in a great measure found in
England those essential differences, which characterise his music; we
have already shown that he had them not upon his arrival. Had Rubens
come over to England but moderately skilled in his art: had he learned
here all his excellency in colouring, and correctness of designing; had
he left several scholars excellent in his manner behind him; I should
not scruple to call the school erected by him, the English school of
painting. Not the country in which a man is born, but his peculiar style,
either in painting or in music—that constitutes him of this or that
school. Thus Champagne, who painted in the manner of the French school,
is always placed among the painters of that school, though he was born
in Flanders, and should consequently, by the objector’s rule, be placed
among the Flemish painters. Kneller is placed in the German school, and
Ostade in the Dutch, though born in the same city. Primatice, who may be
truly said to have founded the Roman school, was born in Bologna; though,
if his country was to determine his school, he should have been placed in
the Lombard. There might several other instances be produced; but these,
it is hoped, will be sufficient to prove that Handel, though a German,
may be placed at the head of the English school.
[16] Handel was originally a German; but by a long continuance in England
he might have been looked upon as naturalized to the country. I don’t
pretend to be a fine writer: however, if the gentleman dislikes the
expression (although he must be convinced it is a common one), I wish it
were mended.
[17] I said that they were ascribed to David Rizzio. That they are, the
objector need only look into Mr. Oswald’s Collection of Scotch tunes, and
he will there find not only The Broom of Cowdenknows, but also the Black
Eagle, and several other of the best Scotch tunes ascribed to him. Though
this might be a sufficient answer, yet I must be permitted to go further,
to tell the objector the opinions of our best modern musicians in this
particular. It is the opinion of the melodious Geminiani, that we have in
the dominions of Great Britain no original music, except the Irish; the
Scotch and English being originally borrowed from the Italians. And that
his opinion in this respect is just (for I would not be swayed merely by
authorities) it is very reasonable to suppose, first, from the conformity
between the Scotch and ancient Italian music. They who compare the old
French vaudevilles, brought from Italy by Rinuccini, with those pieces
ascribed to David Rizzio, who was pretty nearly contemporary with him,
will find a strong resemblance, notwithstanding the opposite characters
of the two nations, which have preserved those pieces. When I would have
them compared, I mean I would have their bases compared, by which the
similitude may be most exactly seen. Secondly, it is reasonable from the
ancient music of the Scotch, which is still preserved in the Highlands,
and which bears no resemblance at all to the music of the Low Country.
The Highland tunes are sung to Irish words, and flow entirely in the
Irish manner. On the other hand, the Lowland music is always sung to
English words.
[18] David Rizzio was neither a mere fiddler, nor a shallow coxcomb,
nor a worthless fellow, nor a stranger in Scotland. He had indeed been
brought over from Piedmont, to be put at the head of a band of music, by
king James V. one of the most elegant princes of his time, an exquisite
judge of music, as well as of poetry, architecture, and all the fine
arts. Rizzio, at the time of his death, had been above twenty years
in Scotland; he was secretary to the queen, and at the same time an
agent from the pope; so that he would not be so obscure as he has been
represented.
XX.
ON CAROLAN, THE IRISH BARD.
There can be perhaps no greater entertainment than to compare the rude
Celtic simplicity with modern refinement. Books however seem incapable of
furnishing the parallel; and to be acquainted with the ancient manners of
our own ancestors, we should endeavour to look for their remains in those
countries, which, being in some measure retired from an intercourse with
other nations, are still untinctured with foreign refinement, language,
or breeding.
The Irish will satisfy curiosity in this respect preferably to all other
nations I have seen. They in several parts of that country still adhere
to their ancient language, dress, furniture, and superstitions; several
customs exist among them, that still speak their original; and in some
respects Cæsar’s description of the ancient Britons is applicable to them.
Their bards, in particular, are still held in great veneration among
them: those traditional heralds are invited to every funeral, in order to
fill up the intervals of the howl with their songs and harps. In these
they rehearse the actions of the ancestors of the deceased, bewail the
bondage of their country under the English government, and generally
conclude with advising the young men and maidens to make the best use of
their time, for they will soon, for all their present bloom, be stretched
under the table like the dead body before them.