“That the music of the ancients,” says Jeremy Collier, “could command
farther than the modern, is past dispute. Whether they were masters of a
greater compass of notes, or knew the secret of varying them the more
artificially; whether they adjusted the intervals of silence more
exactly, had their hands or their voices further improved, or their
instruments better contrived; whether they had a deeper insight into the
philosophy of nature, or understood the laws of the union of the soul
and body more thoroughly; and thence were enabled to touch the passions,
strengthen the sense, or prepare the medium with greater advantage;
whether they excelled us in all, or in how many of these ways, is not so
clear however, this is certain, that our improvements in this kind are
little better than ale-house crowds (fiddles) with respect to theirs.”
The effects of music among the ancients, are said to have been almost
miraculous. The celebrated ode of Dryden has made every one acquainted
with the magic power of Timotheus over the emotions of the human heart.
And all, who have read any thing of ancient history, must have remarked
the wonderful effects attributed to the musical instrument in the hand
of a master.
Among a hundred other stories, which evince the power of music, is the
following:
Pythagoras was once likely to be troubled at his lecture, by a company
of young men, inflamed with wine, and petulant with the natural
insolence of youthful levity. The philosopher wished to repress their
turbulence; but forbore to address them in the language of philosophy,
which they would either not have attended to, or have treated with
derision. He said nothing; but ordered the musician to play a grave
majestic tune, of the Doric style. The effect was powerful and
instantaneous. The young men were brought to their sober senses, were
ashamed of their wanton behaviour, and with one accord tore off the
chaplets of flowers with which they had decorated their temples in the
hour of convivial gaiety. They listened to the philosopher. Their hearts
were opened to instruction by music, and the powerful impression being
well timed, produced in them a permanent reformation.
How desirable is it to revive the music of Pythagoras! How concise a
method of philosophizing to the purpose! What sermon or moral lecture
would have produced a similar effect so suddenly?
But nothing of this kind was ever produced by the most successful
efforts of modern music. Let us suppose a case somewhat similar to the
preceding. Let us imagine a number of intoxicated rakes entering the
theatre with a professed intention to cause a riot. Such a case has
often been real. The music in the orchestra has done all that it could
do to sooth the growing rage; but it was as impotent and contemptible as
a pistol against a battery. It would be a fine thing for the
proprietors, if a tune or two could save the benches, and the fiddlers
preclude the carpenters. But Timotheus and the Doric strains are no
more; yet, surely, in so general a study of music it might be expected
that something of their perfection might be revived.[313]
[313] Vicesimus Knox.
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