Musical Myths and Facts Volume I Part 12

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In Beethoven's famous E minor Quartet, Op. 59, a similar figure leads to the theme, thus:--

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A more exact comparison of the two pa.s.sages than the present short notations permit will probably convince the student of the great superiority of Beethoven's conception. He was one of those rare masters who convert into gold whatever they touch.

But it is not the object here to give a list of the similarities and adaptations which are traceable in the works of different musical composers. Such a list would fill a volume, even if composers of secondary rank, who are often great borrowers, were ignored. For the present essay a few examples must suffice, especially as others will probably occur to the reflecting reader.

Some insight into the studies of our great composers may also be obtained by comparing together such of their operas or other elaborate vocal compositions with instrumental accompaniment as are founded on the same subject. Note, for instance, the love-story of Armida, taken by the compilers of the various librettos from the episode of Rinaldo and Armida in Ta.s.so's 'Gerusalemme Liberata.' The story had evidently a great attraction for the musical composers of the eighteenth century.

There have been above thirty operas written on it, several of which it might now be difficult to procure, nor would an examination of them perhaps repay the trouble. However, the operas on the subject composed by Lulli, Gluck, Graun, Handel, Traetta, Jomelli, Naumann, Haydn, Sarti, Cimarosa, Rossini, Sacchini, etc., would suffice for the purpose. Thus also, a comparison of several compositions depicting a storm--most of our masters have written such a piece--elicits valuable hints for the musical student. Compare, for instance, with each other the storms in Gluck's 'Iphigenia in Tauris,' Haydn's 'Seasons,' Beethoven's 'Sinfonia Pastorale,' Cherubini's 'Medea.'

Even arrangements may ill.u.s.trate the studies. Take, for instance, the arrangements of Vivaldi's violin concertos by J. S. Bach. It is, however, but seldom that eminent composers have occupied themselves with arranging the works of others. Instructive examples of this kind are therefore rare.

It is recorded of some composers that they were in the habit of founding their instrumental works on certain poetical ideas. Haydn is said to have done this almost invariably. Schindler, in his biographical notices of Beethoven, states that the two pianoforte Sonatas, Op. 14, of Beethoven, were explained to him by the composer as representing a dialogue between two lovers. When Schindler asked the meaning of the motivo of the C minor Symphony,

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Beethoven exclaimed, "Thus Fate knocks at the gate!" And being requested by Schindler to supply him with the key to the Sonatas in D minor, Op.

31, and in F minor, Op. 57, Beethoven's answer was: "Read Shakespeare's 'Tempest!'" Beethoven probably resorted to such replies merely to satisfy troublesome inquirers somewhat resembling the inquisitive gentleman in Was.h.i.+ngton Irving's 'Tales of a Traveller,' who "never could enjoy the kernel of the nut, but pestered himself to get more out of the sh.e.l.l." Several of the t.i.tles of Beethoven's instrumental compositions ('Pastoral Sonata,' 'Moonlight Sonata,' 'Sonata appa.s.sionata,' etc.) did not originate with the composer, but were given to the pieces by the publishers to render them more attractive to the public. The t.i.tle of his sonata Op. 81, 'Les Adieux, l'Absence et le Retour,' emanates however from Beethoven himself. This is noteworthy inasmuch as it has brought the advocates of descriptive music into an awkward dilemma. They found in this sonata an unmistakable representation of the parting and ultimate reunion of two ardent lovers,--when, unhappily for them, Beethoven's autograph ma.n.u.script of the sonata was discovered, in the library of Archduke Rudolph, bearing the inscription (in German), "The Farewell, Absence, and Return of His Imperial Highness the Venerated Archduke Rudolph."

A similar subject is treated by J. S. Bach, in a capriccio for the harpsichord, ent.i.tled, 'On the Departure of a very dear Brother,' in which the different movements are headed as follows:--"No. 1. Entreaty of friends to put off the journey.--No. 2. Representation of the various accidents which might befall him.--No. 3. General lament of friends.--No. 4. Entreaty being of no avail, the friends here bid farewell.--No. 5. Air of the postillion.--No. 6. Fuga in imitation of the post-horn."

This is but a modest essay in tone-painting compared with a certain production by Johann Kuhnau, a predecessor of Bach, who depicted entire biblical stories in a set of six sonatas for the clavichord, which were published in Leipzig in the year 1700. Each sonata is prefaced by a programme, which informs the player what is meant by the several movements--a very necessary proceeding. The stories depicted are from the Old Testament. One of the sonatas is ent.i.tled, 'Jacob's Marriage;'

another, 'Saul cured by David's Music;' another, 'The Death of Jacob;'

and so on. To show how far Kuhnau ventures into detailed description, the explanation printed with the sonata called 'Gideon' may find a place here. It runs as follows:--"1. Gideon mistrusts the promises made to him by G.o.d that he should be victorious.--2. His fear at the sight of the great host of the enemy.--3. His increasing courage at the relation of the dream of the enemy, and of its interpretation.--4. The martial sound of the trombones and trumpets, and likewise the breaking of the pitchers and the cry of the people.--5. The flight of the enemy and their pursuit by the Israelites.--6. The rejoicing of the Israelites for their remarkable victory."

Still earlier, in the seventeenth century, Dieterich Buxtehude depicted in seven suites for the clavichord, 'The Nature and Qualities of the Planets;' and Johann Jacob Frohberger, about the same time, composed for the harpsichord a 'Plainte, faite a Londres, pour pa.s.ser la melancolie,'

in which he describes his eventful journey from Germany to England--how in France he was attacked by robbers, and how afterwards in the Channel, between Calais and Dover, he was plundered by Tunisian pirates.

Frohberger composed also an _allemande_ intended to commemorate an event which he experienced on the Rhine. The notation is so contrived as to represent a bridge over the Rhine. Mattheson is said to have cleverly introduced into one of his scores, by means of the notation, the figure of a rainbow. Such music one must not hear; enough if one sees it in print. It deserves to be cla.s.sed with the silent music mentioned in Shakespeare's 'Oth.e.l.lo,' Act III., Scene 1:--

"_Clown._--But, masters, here's money for you: and the General so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it.

"_First Musician._--Well, sir, we will not.

"_Clown._--If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again: but, as they say, to hear music the General does not greatly care.

"_First Musician._--We have none such, sir.

"_Clown._--Then put your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: go, vanish into air; away!"

It may afford satisfaction to the lover of descriptive music to imagine he hears in certain choruses by Handel the leaping of frogs, the humming of flies, or the rattling of hailstones; but the judicious admirer of these compositions values them especially on account of their purely musical beauties. These may in a great measure be traced to euphony combined with originality. Music must be above all things melodiously beautiful. Our great composers bore this in mind, or acted upon it as a matter of course; hence the fascinating charms of their music. The euphony does not depend upon the consonant harmony prevailing in the composition; if this were the case, music would be the more euphonious the fewer dissonant chords it contains, and the major key would be more suitable for euphony than the minor key, since the major scale is founded upon the most simple relation of musical intervals yielding concords. However, our finest compositions contain numerous dissonant chords; and many--perhaps most--are in the minor key. Some of our great composers have certainly written more important works in minor than in major keys. Mozart, in those of his compositions which are in major keys, often manifests extraordinary inspiration as soon as he modulates into a minor key.

Remarkably devoid of euphony are the compositions of some musicians who, having taken Beethoven's last works as the chief models for their aspirations, have thereby been prevented from properly cultivating whatever gift they may naturally possess for expressing their ideas melodiously and clearly. Moreover, they talk and act as if affected originality, or far-fetched fancies, const.i.tuted the princ.i.p.al charm of a composition. Not less tedious are the works of some modern composers who possess no originality, but who write very correctly in the style of some cla.s.sical composer. There has been published a vast amount of such stale and unprofitable productions. Music, to be interesting, must possess some quality in a high degree. If it is very good, it is just what it ought to be; if it is very bad, one can honestly condemn it, and leave it to its fate. But music which is neither very good nor very bad--which deserves neither praise nor blame, and which one cannot easily ignore because it is well meant--this is the most wearisome. And often how long such productions are! The composers show with many notes that they have felt but little, while our great composers show with but few notes that they have felt much.

An inferior composer has, however, not unfrequently a better chance of becoming soon popular than a superior one. The latter is likely to be properly appreciated only by a few unbia.s.sed judges--at least during his earlier career--while the former may possess qualities which at once please the uncultivated taste, and the voice of the unrefined majority may silence the voice of the few whose opinion is correct. If you become acquainted with a celebrated musician, you will perhaps find that he is not so talented as you expected; and if you become acquainted with a musician of no reputation, you will perhaps find that he is much more talented than you expected. Diffidence is apt to be mistaken for want of ability. Even some of our deepest thinkers, on acknowledging that they did not understand a certain subject, have been set down by ignorant people as dunces.

Composers who have made good studies sometimes write ingenious contrivances or "learned music," instead of inventing a beautiful melody. They are apt to introduce fugues into their works when they are short of ideas or at a loss how to proceed. Even our great composers have done this occasionally, when their power of invention began to flag. But they were careful, when resorting to mere head-work, to use it only in places most appropriate; and they generally succeeded in imparting to it some musical charm.

Always striving to attain a higher degree of perfection, they were in fact students all their lifetime. The more they learnt, the clearer they saw that they had much to learn, and that time was precious to them.

Beethoven on his death-bed was studying the scores of Handel's oratorios, and Mozart to the end of his life investigated the intricate works of Johann Sebastian Bach.

Many examples from different composers might have been cited in support of the opinions advanced in this essay. But, not to lengthen it unnecessarily, only a few examples, referring to such of our composers as are universally acknowledged to be truly great, have been selected.

No doubt many more will occur to the reflecting reader, if he is familiar with our cla.s.sical compositions.

[28] 'Briefe von Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. Leipzig, 1863. Vol. ii., P. 440.

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SUPERSt.i.tIONS CONCERNING BELLS.

Much is said about church-bells which formerly sometimes used to toll entirely by themselves on occasions of extraordinary importance. In some countries places are pointed out where church-bells which have fallen into a lake or river, or have sunk deep into the ground, will toll on certain days of the year, or on certain solemn occasions. The believers in these wonders go to the place where a bell is said to be hidden, and listen attentively. Generally they soon hear the distant sounds which they anxiously wish to hear.

A wonderful bell is mentioned by Abraham a Sancta Clara, who so forcibly preached during the latter half of the seventeenth century; and some account of the same bell is given by Montano in his 'Historische Nachricht von denen Glocken,' published in the year 1726. Montano says that "it may be seen at Vililla, a small town in the kingdom of Arragon." When this bell was being cast, one of the thirty pieces of silver for which the arch-traitor Judas Iscariot delivered up Jesus Christ to the chief priests, was melted down with the metal, which had the effect of causing the bell to sound occasionally by itself without being touched, especially before the occurrence of some great national calamity, such as a disastrous issue of a warlike expedition, or the death of a king. In the year 1601, Montano records, it continued to ring by itself for three days unintermittingly,--viz., from Thursday the 13th of June until Sat.u.r.day the 15th; but whether it had some particular reason for this extraordinary procedure, or whether it was merely actuated by some capricious impulse, we are not informed by the learned writer.

Spain appears to have been pre-eminently favoured with such miraculous bells. This is perhaps not to be wondered at considering that miracles occur most frequently in countries where the people are best prepared to accept them.

A lamentable misunderstanding occasioned by a little house-bell is recorded by Grimm as having occurred in a German town; but we are not informed of the name of the town, nor of that of the citizen in whose house it occurred. The inmates of the house, with the exception of the mistress, heard distinctly the sound of the bell, and were quite certain that no one had touched it. Moreover, a few days afterwards, they heard it a second time. The master of the house, a strong and healthy man, made up his mind at once that this omen portended the decease of his wife, who was keeping her bed, very much reduced indeed. He forbade the servants to tell their mistress what had occurred, lest it might frighten her and hasten her dissolution. The state of suspense, after the bell had given warning the second time, lasted for about six weeks, when suddenly--the husband died, and the wife became better! Even after the widow had married again, the bell rang by itself on several occasions; and whenever this happened, there was sure to be a death in the house--sooner or later.[29]

PROTECTIVE BELL-RINGING.

The notion that the tinkling and clanging of bells is a safeguard against the influence of evil spirits, so common among Christian nations, evidently prevailed also with the ancient Egyptians. Some little hand-bells with representations of Typhon have been found in Egyptian tombs, and are still preserved. The Hebrew high-priests had bells attached to their garments, and the reason a.s.signed to this usage, given in Exodus xxviii., verse 35, is: "His sound shall be heard when he goeth into the holy place before the Lord, and when he cometh out, that he die not." Whatever may be the right interpretation of this sentence--there are more than one--it cannot but remind us of the use made by the ancient Egyptians of the Sistrum, the tinkling sounds of which were considered indispensable in religious ceremonies. Nay, what is more remarkable, the sistrum is still in use, being employed by the priests of a Christian sect in Abyssinia; while the Copts, in Upper Egypt, who are likewise Christians, shake in their religious performances a tinkling instrument of metal, called _maraoueh_, avowedly for the purpose of keeping off the Evil One. Moreover, the Shamans, in Siberia, when preparing themselves for performing incantations, and for prophesying, dress themselves in garments to which are attached tinkling and rattling appendages. Likewise the "medicine men," or prophets of the American Indians, when they engage in sorcery and invocation of spirits, employ, if not tinkling metal, at least dried and rattling seed-pods, loose bills of certain water birds, gourds containing pebbles, and similar contrivances.

The old belief, even at the present day not uncommon, that bell-ringing on the approach of a thunderstorm, and during its continuance, is a protection against lightning, may not unfrequently have been conducive to a deplorable accident, since the current of air produced by the swinging of a bell is more likely to attract the electric fluid than, as is supposed, to drive it away. In Prussia the old and cherished custom of ringing bells during a thunderstorm was wisely forbidden by Frederick the Great, in the year 1783, and his ordinance directed the prohibition to be read in all the churches of the kingdom.

SIGNIFICANT SOUNDS OF BELLS.

The erroneous opinion that an admixture of silver with the bell-metal, consisting of copper and tin, greatly improves the sound of the bell, is very common.

The old church at Krempe, in Holstein, possessed formerly a bell of extraordinary sonorousness, which, people say, contained a great deal of silver. When this bell was being cast, the people brought silver coins and trinkets to be thrown into the fusing metal, in order to ensure a very fine tone. The avaricious founder had a mind to retain these valuable offerings for himself, so he put them aside. But, during his temporary absence, the apprentice took all the silver and threw it into the melting ma.s.s. When, on the master's return, his apprentice told him that he had applied the silver to the purpose for which it was presented by the donors, the master waxed angry, and slew the lad. Now, when the bell was cast, and hung in the tower of the church, its sound proved indeed most sonorous, but also very mournful; and whenever it was rung it distinctly sounded like "Schad' um den Jungen! Schad' um den Jungen!"

("Pity for the lad! Pity for the lad!")

The church-bell at Keitum, on the Isle of Silt, in the North Sea, off the coast of Denmark, distinctly says "Ing Dung!" which are the names of two pious spinsters at whose expense the old bell-tower of the church was erected long ago. There exists an old prophecy in the place that, after the bell shall have fallen down and killed the finest youth of the island, the tower will likewise fall, and will kill the most beautiful girl of Silt. A fine youth was actually killed by the fall of the bell in the year 1739; and since that time the young girls of Silt are generally very timid in approaching the tower, for each one thinks that she may be the destined victim.

The good people of Gellingen, in the district of Angeln, on the borders of Denmark, once ordered two bells to be cast for them in the town of Lubeck. These bells were brought by water to Schleimunde; but as ill-luck would have it, one of them fell into the sea and was lost. Now, whenever the remaining bell is being rung, it distinctly proclaims, of which everyone may convince himself, "Min Mag ligger i a Minn!" ("My companion lies in the Schleimunde!")[30]

The church at Dambeck, in Mecklenburg-Schwerin, is so very old that the oldest inhabitants of the place affirm that its outer walls, which only are now remaining, were built before the deluge. The tower with the bells is sunk in the Lake Muritz; and in olden time people have often seen the bells rising to the surface of the water on St. John's Day. One afternoon some children, who had carried the dinner to their parents labouring in an adjacent field, stopped by the lake to wash the napkins.

These little urchins saw the bells which had risen above the water. One of the children, a little girl, spread her napkin over one of the bells for the purpose of drying it; the consequence was that the bell could not descend again. But though all the rich people of the town of Robel came to secure the bell for themselves, they were unable to remove it, notwithstanding that they brought sixteen strong horses to draw it from the place. They were still unsuccessfully urging the horses, when a poor man happened to pa.s.s that way from the fields with a pair of oxen. The man, seeing what the rich people were about, at once told them to put their horses aside; he then yoked his pair of oxen to the bell, and said: "Nu met G.o.d foer Arme un Rieke, all to gelieke!" ("Now with the help of G.o.d, alike for poor and rich.") Having p.r.o.nounced these words, he drove the bell without the least difficulty to Robel, where it was soon hung in the tower of the new church. Whenever a really poor man dies in Robel, this bell is tolled for him free of charge, and it distinctly says "Dambeck! Dambeck!"[31]

A hundred other instances could be noticed of church-bells being said to p.r.o.nounce some sentence referring to a remarkable incident which occurred in very remote time. The people, in reciting these sentences, generally imitate the sound of the bell, which of course, greatly heightens the effect of the story. Switzerland is especially rich in such old and cherished traditions.

Every true-born Briton is familiar with the prophetic words chimed by the bells of Bow Church to Whittington on his return to London, which signified to him that he was destined to fill one of the highest posts of honour to which an Englishman can aspire. Some people scout the tradition, bluntly saying, "I don't believe a word of it!" Others reply, "Only just prove that it is a myth, and I shall not believe it any longer, of that I am quite certain."