Sketch of Handel and Beethoven Part 4

"Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.

"Footprints which perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and s.h.i.+pwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.

"Then let us be up and doing, With a heart for any fate-- Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote D: See Note, p. 91.]

[Footnote E: See Note, p. 92.]

[Footnote F: See Note, p. 92.]

[Footnote G: See note, p. 93.]

[Footnote H: The lady was Mrs. Cibber.]

A SKETCH OF BEETHOVEN.

A Lecture.

(OVERTURE.)

"Give me sweet music when I'm glad-- Give me sweet music when I'm sad; For music softens every woe, And brightens every rapture's flow.

"Oh! give me music! In my years Of childhood's hopes and childhood's fears, One sweetly-breathing vocal lay Could steal my griefs, my fears away.

"Yes, music, come! Thou dying voice Of distant days--of far-past joys-- Come, softly breathe into mine ear, And thine shall be the flowing tear!

"Come in the strain I loved so well, And of the lip that breathed it tell.

Oh! be the lingerings of thy lays The voice of those departed days!"

a.s.sociation not only gives significancy to music, but contributes greatly to heighten its agreeable effect. We have heard it performed, some time or other, in an agreeable place, perhaps, or by an agreeable person, or accompanied with words that describe agreeable ideas; or we have heard it in our early years--a period of life which we seldom look back upon without pleasure, and of which Bacon recommends the frequent recollection, as an expedient to preserve health. Nor is it necessary that musical compositions should have much intrinsic merit, or that they should call up any distinct remembrance of the agreeable ideas a.s.sociated with them. There are seasons at which we are gratified with very moderate excellence. In childhood every tune is delightful to a musical ear: in our advanced years, an indifferent tune will please, when set off by the amiable qualities of the performer, or by any other agreeable circ.u.mstance. The flute of a shepherd, heard at a distance, on a fine summer day, amidst beautiful scenery, will give rapture to the wanderer, though the tune, the instrument, and the musician be such as he could not endure in any other place. If a song, or piece of music, should call up only a faint remembrance that we were happy the last time we heard it, nothing more would be needful to make us listen to it again with peculiar satisfaction.

Well has Cowper said--

"There is in souls a sympathy with sounds; And as the mind is pitch'd, the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave, Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touched within us, and the heart replies.

How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence sweet, now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!

With easy force it opens all the cells Where mem'ry slept. Wherever I have heard A kindred melody, the scene recurs, And with it all its pleasures and its pains."

Of its influence very many anecdotes, I should rather say, _facts_ are recorded.

Naturalists a.s.sert that animals and birds are sensible to the charms of music--take one or two instances:--

An officer was confined in the Bastile; he begged the governor to permit him the use of his lute, to soften by the harmonies of his instrument, the rigours of his prison. At the end of a few days, this modern Orpheus, playing on his lute, was greatly astonished to see frisking out of their holes, great numbers of _mice_, and descending from their woven habitations crowds of _spiders_, who formed a circle about him, while he continued breathing his soul-subduing instrument. He was petrified with astonishment. Having ceased to play, the a.s.sembly who did not come to see him, but to hear his instrument, immediately broke up. As he had a great dislike to spiders, it was two days before he ventured again to touch his instrument. At length, having overcome, for the novelty of his company, his dislike of them, he recommenced his concert, when the a.s.sembly was by far more numerous than at first; and in the course of further time, he found himself surrounded by a hundred _musical amateurs_. Having thus succeeded in attracting this company, he treacherously contrived to get rid of them at his will. For this purpose he begged the keeper to give him a cat, which he put in a cage, and let loose at the very instant when the little hairy people were most enchanted by the Orphean skill he displayed.

Haydyn tells the following story:--

I went, with some other young people equally devoid of care, one day during the extreme heat of summer, to seek for coolness and fresh air on one of the lofty mountains, which surround the Lago Maggiore in Lombardy. Having reached by daybreak the middle of the ascent, we stopped to contemplate the Borromean isles, which were displayed under our feet, in the middle of the lake, when we were surrounded by a large flock of sheep, which were leaving the fold to go to their pasture.

One of our party, who was no bad performer on the flute, and who always carried his instrument along with him, took it out of his pocket. "I am going," said he, "to turn Corydon; let us see whether Virgil's sheep will recognize their pastor." He began to play. The sheep and goats, which were following one another towards the mountain, with their heads hanging down, raised them at the first sound of the flute, and all with a general and hasty movement turned to the side from whence the agreeable noise proceeded. Gradually they flocked round the musician, and listened with motionless attention. He ceased playing; still the sheep did not stir. The shepherd with his staff, obliged those nearest to him to move on; they obeyed; but no sooner did the fluter begin to play, than his innocent audience again returned to him. The shepherd, out of patience, pelted them with clods of earth; but not one would move. The fluter played with additional skill. The shepherd fell into a pa.s.sion, whistled, scolded, and pelted the poor fleecy amateurs with stones. Such as were hit by them began to march; but the others still refused to stir.

Marville gives us the following curious account:--

Doubting the truth of those who say that the love of music is a natural taste, especially the sound of instruments, and that beasts themselves are touched by it; being one day in the country, I tried an experiment.

While a man was playing on the trump marine, I made my observations on a _cat_, a _dog_, a _horse_, an _a.s.s_, a _hind_, _cows_, _small birds_, and a _c.o.c.k and hens_, who were in a yard, under a window on which I was leaning.

I did not perceive that the _cat_ was the least affected, and I even judged by her air that she would have given all the instruments in the world for a mouse, sleeping in the sun all the time.

The _horse_ stopped short from time to time before the window, raising his head up now and then, as he was feeding on the gra.s.s.

The _dog_ continued for above an hour seated on his hind legs, looking steadfastly at the player.

The _a.s.s_ did not discover the least indication of his being touched, eating his thistles peaceably.

The _hind_ lifted up her large, wide ears, and seemed very attentive.

The _cows_ slept a little, and after gazing, as though they had been acquainted with us, went forward.

Some _little birds_, who were in an aviary, and others on the trees and bushes, almost tore their little throats with singing.

But the _c.o.c.k_, who minded only his hens, and the hens, who were solely employed in scratching a neighbouring dunghill, did not show in any manner that they took the least pleasure in hearing the trump marine.

One of the best descriptions of the influence of music I consider to be Wordsworth's lines on the Blind Fiddler of Oxford Street. Many of you, doubtless, are familiar with them; but for the information of those who may not, I shall quote them.

"An Orpheus! an Orpheus! Yes, faith may grow bold, And take to herself all the wonders of old.

Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name.

"His station is there, and he works on the crowd: He sways them with harmony merry and loud: He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim.

Was aught ever heard like his fiddle and him?

"What an eager a.s.sembly! what an empire is this!

The weary have life, and the hungry have bliss; The mourner is cheered, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burthened soul is no longer opprest.

"As the moon brightens round her the clouds of the night, So he, where he stands, is a centre of light; It gleams on the face there of dusk-browed Jack And the pale-visaged bakers, with basket on back.

"That errand-bound 'prentice was pa.s.sing in haste-- What matter! he's caught--and his time runs to waste; The newsman is stopped, though he stops on the fret; And the half-breathless lamplighter he's in the net!

"The porter sits down on the weight which he bore; The la.s.s with her barrow wheels. .h.i.ther her store.

If a thief could be here, he might pilfer at ease: She sees the musician--'tis all that she sees!

"That tall man, a giant in bulk and in height, Not an inch of his body is free from delight.

Can he keep himself still, if he would? Oh not he!