Musical Myths and Facts, Volume 2 (of 2)
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Title: Musical Myths and Facts, Volume 2 (of 2)
Author: Carl Engel
Release date: September 27, 2012 [eBook #40384]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSICAL MYTHS AND FACTS, VOLUME 2 (OF 2) ***
Produced by Veronika Redfern, Linda Cantoni, Bryan Ness
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http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
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MUSICAL
MYTHS AND FACTS
BY
CARL ENGEL.
IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.
LONDON:
NOVELLO, EWER & CO.,
1, BERNERS STREET (W.), AND 80 & 81, QUEEN STREET, CHEAPSIDE (E. C.)
NEW YORK: J. L. PETERS, 843, BROADWAY.
MDCCCLXXVI.
[_All rights reserved._]
NOVELLO, EWER AND CO.,
TYPOGRAPHICAL MUSIC AND GENERAL PRINTERS,
1, BERNERS STREET, LONDON.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
PAGE
MATTHESON ON HANDEL 1
DIABOLIC MUSIC 28
The Awful Deception 28
The Indefatigable Fiddler 29
The Effectual Expedient 30
The Old Chorale 31
The Haunted Mansion 31
The Mode Asbein 32
Witches 33
The Changeling 33
The Vendish Sorcerer 36
The Rat-Catcher of Hameln 37
The Exquisite Organ 39
ROYAL MUSICIANS 41
COMPOSERS AND PRACTICAL MEN 56
MUSIC AND MEDICINE 84
POPULAR STORIES WITH MUSICAL TRADITIONS 114
The Royal Music-Master 115
The Handsome Minstrel 115
The Daisy Lady 116
The Invisible Flute-Player 118
The Banished Musician 119
The Walriderske 120
The Jew in the Thicket 122
The Pope's Wife 126
The Two Hunchbacks 128
The Parson's Advice 132
Relics of the Goblins 133
The Golden Harvest 135
Gipsies 137
The Nautch-People 139
The Monk of Afflighem 141
The Plague in Goldberg 142
Fictions and Facts 145
DRAMATIC MUSIC OF UNCIVILIZED RACES 147
A SHORT SURVEY OF THE HISTORY OF MUSIC 171
CHRONOLOGY OF THE HISTORY OF MUSIC 179
THE MUSICAL SCALES IN USE AT THE PRESENT DAY 228
[Illustration]
MATTHESON ON HANDEL.
The biographical notices of Handel's youth transmitted to us are but
scanty and unsatisfactory. The same might, however, be said of most of
our celebrated musicians, and the cause of the meagreness is, as we have
seen in another place, easily explicable.[1] Of Handel's musical
pursuits before his arrival in Hamburg, at the age of eighteen, we know
scarcely more than that he was a pupil of Zachau, an organist at Halle,
where Handel was born; that, as a boy, he paid a short visit to Berlin,
where his talent attracted some attention; and that subsequently he
studied Law, at the University of Halle. The latter fact indicates that
the choice of music as a profession was not hastily determined in his
childhood; and this surmise accords with the stated reluctance of his
father, a medical practitioner in Halle, to have his son brought up as a
musician.
Arrived in Hamburg, in the year 1703, Handel soon made the acquaintance
of Mattheson, an intelligent and industrious young musician, who was
competent to appreciate the genius of Handel, and faithfully to record
the progress of the promising youth during his sojourn in Hamburg, which
lasted about three years. Mattheson was four years older than Handel,--a
difference which, between two lads of twenty-two and eighteen, is not
without some weight in their mutual intercourse, especially if the elder
is already enjoying a certain success, while the younger is a new comer,
intent upon gaining a footing. Mattheson's observations about Handel,
although occasionally tinged with jealousy of his talented brother
artist, are therefore particularly noteworthy in the biography of the
great composer.
Johann Mattheson, born in Hamburg, in the year 1681, was at the time of
Handel's arrival tenor singer and musical composer at the theatre of the
town, and teacher of singing, the harpsichord, and thorough-bass. When,
in the year 1705, an increasing deafness compelled him to relinquish his
engagement as singer and actor in operas at the theatre, his
accomplishments, combined with commendable habits of industry and
punctuality, induced the British Ambassador at Hamburg to engage him as
tutor for his son, and afterwards to appoint him his secretary. During
an active life of unusual duration,--he died in the year 1764, at the
age of 83,--Mattheson published a great number of treatises on musical
subjects, some of which still possess value as books of reference. His
vanity, not unfrequently exhibited in his writings, may in some measure
have been nourished by his many flatterers among his musical
contemporaries, who evidently feared his sarcastic pen all the more
because they did not possess the literary ability to engage successfully
in a controversy with him when they disagreed with his opinion.
As regards the musical compositions of Mattheson, we know from his own
statement, in his autobiography, that his operas were greatly admired by
the public; but this favourable opinion is hardly supported by such of
his compositions as have appeared in print. A collection of twelve
Suites for the harpsichord, the manuscript of which he sent to England,
where it was published in two volumes, in the year 1714, bears the
title:--'Pieces de Clavecin, en deux Volumes, consistant des Ouvertures,
Preludes, Fugues, Allemandes, Courentes, Sarabandes, Gigues et Aires,
composees par J. Mattheson, Secr.--London, printed for J. D. Fletcher.'
The work is prefaced by an address to the musical public, written by the
editor, J. D. Fletcher, in which he says:--"Britain may now hope to
return those arts with interest, which she borrowed from other nations;
and foreigners in time may learn of those whom their forefathers
taught.... As the harpsichord is an instrument yet capable of greater
improvement, so the following pieces claim a precedence of all others of
this nature; not only that they are composed by one of the greatest
masters of the age, in a taste altogether pleasing and sublime; but, as
they are peculiarly adapted to that instrument, and engraven with an
exactness that cannot be equall'd by any of their nature yet extant."
Sir John Hawkins, who probably had not seen these Suites, relates:
"Mattheson had sent over to England, in order to their being published
here, two collections of lessons for the harpsichord, and they were
accordingly engraved on copper, and printed for Richard Meares in St.
Paul's Church-yard, and published in the year 1714. Handel was at that
time in London, and in the afternoon was used to frequent St. Paul's
Church for the sake of hearing the service, and of playing on the organ
after it was over; from whence he and some gentlemen of the choir would
frequently adjourn to the Queen's Arms tavern in St. Paul's Church-yard,
where was a harpsichord. It happened one afternoon, when they were thus
met together, Mr. Weely, a gentleman of the choir, came in and informed
them that Mr. Mattheson's lessons were then to be had at Mr. Meares'
shop; upon which Mr. Handel ordered them immediately to be sent for, and
upon their being brought, played them all over without rising from the
instrument." Still more odd appears Hawkins' statement that Handel
"approved so highly of the compositions of Mattheson, particularly his
lessons, that he was used to play them for his private amusement."[2]
If Handel really could amuse himself by playing these lessons, which are
in no respect superior to the usual productions of the mediocre
musicians of his time, it probably was only from feelings of curiosity
and kindness towards a former friend. Mattheson composed a great deal,
and made at last even his own Funeral Anthem, which after his death was
performed to his honour, and which, if report speaks correctly, sounded
truly miserable; and this may well be believed, considering that when
he composed the music Mattheson had been deaf for nearly thirty years.
Still, though he was but a poor composer, he possessed ample musical
knowledge and practical skill to enable him to judge the works of his
superior contemporaries. His jealous disposition, however, sometimes
prevented him from forming a just opinion. His disparaging critique of
an early work of Handel, in his 'Critica Musica,' Hamburg, 1725, at a
time when Handel had become a resident in London, was evidently
influenced by jealousy, and the same is more or less observable in his
other writings. Nevertheless, he took every opportunity to keep up a
correspondence with Handel, and to boast of his former familiarity with
the celebrated man. Mattheson, having solicited Handel's opinion upon a
certain theoretical question on which he was in dispute with some German
musicians, and having also expressed the hope that Handel might favour
him with some biographical notices, Handel, at the conclusion of his
letter in reply, excuses himself for not complying with the second point
in question:--
"Pour ce qui est du second point, vous pouvez juger vous meme qu'il
demande beaucoup de recueillement, dont je ne suis pas le maitre
parmi les occupations pressantes, que j'ai par devers moi. Des que
j'en ferai un peu debarasse, je repasserai les Epoques principales
que j'ai eues dans le cours de ma Profession, pour vous faire voir
l'estime et la consideration particuliere avec laquelle j'ai
l'honneur d'etre,
Monsieur,
Votre tres humble et tres
Obeissant Serviteur,
G. F. HANDEL.
A Londres, Fevr. 24, 1719."
In the year 1740, Mattheson published his _Grundlage einer Ehrenpforte_
('Foundation of a Triumphal Arch'), which contains a series of
biographies of the celebrated musicians of his time,--Mattheson's
included. During the preparation of this work, he addressed another
request to Handel to supply him with materials for a correct biography.
He also dedicated twelve fugues of his own composition to Handel, of
which he sent him a copy to ensure prompt attention. Handel's reply was
again evasive:--
"A Londres ce 29 de Juillet, 1735.
Monsieur,
Il y a quelque tems que j'ai recu une de vos obligeantes lettres;
mais a present je vien de recevoir votre derniere avec votre ouvrage.
Je vous en remercie, Monsieur, et je vous assure que j'ai toute
l'estime pour votre merite, je souhaiterois seulement que mes
circonstances m'etaient plus favorables pour vous donner des marques
de mon inclination a vous servir. L'ouvrage est digne de l'attention
des connoisseurs, et quand a moi, je vous rends justice.
Au reste, pour rammasser quelque epoque, il m'est impossible
puisqu'une continuelle application au service de cette cour et
noblesse me detourne de toute autre affaire.
Je suis, avec une consideration tres parfaite, etc."
Handel was at this period in circumstances by no means flourishing, his
operatic enterprises having failed. Mattheson's request came therefore
at a very inopportune time, since it would have been only painful to
Handel to occupy his mind with recollections of events of his earlier
life, and with the record of expectations which he now found were not to
be realized.
It is singular that almost all Handel's letters to Germans which have
been preserved, including those to his brother-in-law in Halle, are
written in French. Besides, they are so extremely formal and
ceremonious, even those to his nearest relations! This may be in great
measure accounted for by the usages of his time, and by the circumstance
of his coming frequently into contact with persons of a higher position
in society than himself. But, however reserved he may appear in his
letters, evidences are not wanting testifying to his kindheartedness and
generosity.
When Mattheson found that it was useless to endeavour to elicit
information direct from Handel for his 'Ehrenpforte,' he compiled a
biography interspersed with recollections of their mutual experiences
during the years of their intercourse in Hamburg. The following extracts
from Mattheson's gossip are translated as literally as possible:--
"In the summer of the year 1703 he came to Hamburg, rich in abilities
and good intentions. I was almost the first acquaintance he made, and I
took him to the organs and choirs of the town, and to operas and
concerts. I also introduced him to a certain family where all were
extremely devoted to music."
In another place Mattheson records that he made Handel's acquaintance
accidentally at the organ of the church of St. Mary Magdalen, and that
he took him at once with him to his father's house, and paid him every
possible attention. Mattheson further relates:--
"At first he played the second violin in the orchestra of the opera, and
seemed as if he could not count above five; in fact, he was naturally
much inclined to dry humour. But, one day, when a harpsichord player was
wanted, he allowed himself to be persuaded to take his place, and showed
himself a man, when no one but I expected it. I am sure if he reads this
he will laugh in his sleeve, for outwardly he seldom laughs. Especially
will he laugh if he recollects the pigeon-dealer who once travelled post
with us to Luebeck; likewise, the son of the pastry-cook who had to blow
the bellows while we were playing the organ in the church of St. Mary
Magdalen of this place. This was on the thirtieth of July, 1703, after
our having been out on the water on the fifteenth."
"He composed at that time very long, long airs, and almost endless
cantatas, which, although the harmonious treatment was perfect,
nevertheless had not the requisite fitness; nor did they exhibit the
proper taste. However, the high school of the opera soon put him on the
right track."
"He was great upon the organ, greater than Kuhnau in fugues and
counterpoint, especially in extemporizing. However, he knew but very
little of melody before he had to do with the operas in Hamburg. On the
other hand, Kuhnau's pieces were all exceedingly melodious, and suited
for the voice, even those arranged for playing. In the preceding century
scarcely any one thought of melody; all aimed merely at harmony."
"At that time he dined almost daily by invitation with my father, and in
return opened to me some particular manoeuvres in counter point. On
the other hand, in dramatic style I have been of no little service to
him; so that one hand washed the other."
"On the seventeenth of August, in the year 1703, we travelled together
to Luebeck, and in the carriage composed many double-fugues, _da mente
non da penna_. I had been invited there by the President of the Privy
Council, Magnus von Wedderkopp, in order to choose a successor for the
excellent organist, Dieterich Buxtehude. I took Handel there with me. We
tried almost all the organs and harpsichords in Luebeck; and, with regard
to our playing, we arranged between ourselves that he should play
exclusively on the organ, and I on the harpsichord. We also heard with
due attention the above-mentioned artist in his St. Mary's Church. But
when we found that a certain marriage, for which neither of us had the
slightest inclination, was a stipulated condition with the appointment,
[the successful candidate had to marry the daughter of Buxtehude] we
departed thence, after having received much honour, and having enjoyed
many entertainments. Johann Christian Schieferdecker subsequently
accommodated himself to the requirements, conducted the bride home, and
obtained the fine appointment."
"In the year 1704, when I was in Holland, intending to proceed to
England, I received in Amsterdam, on the twenty-first of March, a letter
from Handel in Hamburg, so obliging and pressing, that it at once
induced me to return home. The letter, which is dated March 18th, 1704,
contains, among others, these expressions:--
'I much desire your highly agreeable conversation, the privation of
which will soon be repaired, as the time approaches in which it will be
impossible to undertake anything in the way of operas without your
presence. I therefore pray you obediently to inform me of your
departure, that I may have the opportunity of showing my obligation by
meeting you with Miss Sbuelens,' etc., etc."
These extracts from Mattheson's 'Ehrenpforte' are quoted here because
they throw light upon some occurrences alluded to in the remarks with
which Mattheson has interspersed his German translation of Mainwaring's
'Memoirs of the Life of the late George Frederick Handel; to which is
added a Catalogue of his works, and observations upon them; London,
1760.'
Mainwaring was a young clergyman, whose admiration of Handel induced him
to collect as much material for the compilation of a biography as he was
able to obtain. His work, published anonymously a year after Handel's
death, much as it has been disparaged on account of its chronological
inaccuracies and its want of musical erudition, is certainly valuable as
containing the fullest account of Handel's life in England written by a
contemporary of the great musician. Mattheson's German translation, with
annotations, is entitled _Georg Friderich Haendel's Lebensbeschreibung,
nebst einem Verzeichnisse seiner Ausuebungswerke und deren Beurtheilung;
uebersetzt, auch mit einigen Anmerkungen, absonderlich ueber den
hamburgischen Artikel, versehen von Legations-Rath Mattheson. Hamburg.
Auf Kosten des Uebersetzers_, 1761. ('George Frederick Handel's
Biography, with a list of his Compositions, and a critical examination
of them; translated, and annotated with some remarks, especially upon
the part relating to Hamburg, by Mattheson, Councillor of Legation.
Hamburg. Published at the expense of the translator, 1761.') The book is
now scarce. Victor Schoelcher, in his 'Life of Handel,' London, 1857,
notices it only with the remark: "My endeavours have hitherto been in
vain to obtain a copy of this in Germany, and it is not to be found in
the British Museum." At any rate, it is not likely to be known to many
English musicians. A translation of Mattheson's annotations is therefore
offered here.
As regards the Introduction with which Mattheson has prefaced his
translation, it is so diffuse, and contains so little about Handel, that
few musicians now would care to read it entirely. It is headed by a
quotation in English, from the _Tatler_ (No. 92):--"_Panegyricks are
frequently ridiculous, let them be addressed where they will._"
Mattheson aims more at impressing the reader with his own merits than
with those of Handel. He says, for instance: "In describing an artist's
life, it is not sufficient to represent the man only as an artist; the
artist must rather be considered also as a man; for thus only can his
merits be properly understood. However, no one is able to know or to do
everything in his vocation. Thus, in music, one performer excels on the
organ-pedals, while another surpasses him on the harpsichord. The first
may be called coarse; the second, delicate. The first may be only
appreciated by connoisseurs; the second, by everyone. A company of
artists--if any such exists--is like a bunch of different keys. No one
of these is to be extolled before the other but only in so far as it
opens an important lock which encloses a treasure. One musician is not
only a player, but also a singer; another never opens his mouth to
sing--nay, not even to laugh. The former, besides being able to compose,
to sing, to play, and to dance, acts a principal character on the stage;
the latter, with his quantity of musical scores, has taken care not to
appear upon the boards of the theatre. Indeed, he would have cut a funny
figure had he done so. Here, some one who occupies himself with music,
and also with various sciences, in a superior manner, works at the same
time for kings and princes; there some one employs his gifts principally
in the service and for the amusement of the subjects. From this it is
clear that each in his particular line may deserve honour and laudation;
not properly on account of his person, but on account of his
achievements.... No mere _Musicus practicus ecclesiastico-dramaticus_,
who took a high rank as a director of the orchestra, and a still higher
rank as an organist, but who was neither a singer nor an actor, and
least of all a mathematician--has ever, before Handel, attained to this,
that without his help a special book of a considerable size on his life
has been written, and supplied with instructive observations--still
more, that his biography has been translated into another language by a
brother-artist by no means of the common class. Competing successors do
not feel hurt by these stimulating spurs!"
In order to render the following annotations by Mattheson properly
intelligible, the statements of Mainwaring to which they refer are
inserted with them. The latter are copied exactly as they were
originally written; while Mattheson's annotations are translated from
the German.
_Mainwaring_ (P. 1). "George Frederick Handel was born at Hall,[3] a
city in the circle of Upper-Saxony, the 24th February, 1684,[4] by a
second wife of his father, who was an eminent surgeon and physician of
the same place, and above sixty when his son was born."
_Mattheson._ "The author is wrong in calling Halle a town of
Upper-Saxony. It lies in the Dukedom of Magdeburg, which belongs to
Lower-Saxony. Handel was, therefore, no Upper-Saxon, but rather a
Lower-Saxon."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 6). "It may not be unpleasant to the reader just now to
remind him of the minute and surprising resemblance between the early
periods of Handel's life and some which are recorded in that of the
celebrated M. Pascal, written by his sister. Nothing could equal the
bias of the one to Mathematics but the bias of the other to Music; both
in their very childhood out-did the efforts of maturer age; they pursued
their respective studies not only without any assistance, but against
the consent of their parents, and in spite of all the opposition they
contrived to give them."
_Mattheson._ "Almost the same was the case with Tycho Brahe, and with
the translator of this biography, each in his vocation."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 15). "Zackaw [Zachau] was proud of a pupil who already
began to attract the attention of all persons who lived near Hall
[Halle], or resorted thither from distant quarters. And he was glad of
an assistant who, by his uncommon talents, was capable of supplying his
place whenever he had an inclination to be absent, as he often was, from
his love of company and a cheerful glass."
_Mattheson._ "Could not the life of Handel have been written without
aspersing the brave tone-artist Zachau forty years after his death on
account of a glass of wine?"
_Mainwaring_ (P. 15). "It may seem strange to talk of an assistant of
seven years of age, for he could not be more, if indeed he was quite so
much, when first he was committed to the care of this person."
_Mattheson._ "The author appears to have not the least scruple in
committing the most palpable anachronism by making his hero the younger
the taller he grows. This will presently appear evident."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 16). "We have already hinted at some striking
coincidences of life and character which are found in him and the famous
Pascal. In this place we may just observe that the latter at the age of
twelve compos'd a treatise on the propagation of sounds, and at sixteen
another upon conic sections."
_Mattheson._ "But it must be remembered that afterwards he entirely gave
up mathematics. _See_ Bayle."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 18). "It was in the year 1698 that he went to Berlin.
The opera there was in a flourishing condition under the direction of
the King of Prussia (grandfather of the present), who, by the
encouragement which he gave to singers and composers, drew thither some
of the most eminent from Italy and other parts."
_Mattheson._ "Anno 1698 there was no King in Prussia; the first dated
from 1701. Handel has, therefore, seen no king in Berlin. That the
author is as bad a genealogist and politician as he is a chronologist,
is proved by his mistaking the grandfather of the present king for the
father, and by his always mentioning the then reigning Elector as the
King."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 20). "Attilio's fondness for Handel commenced at his
first coming to Berlin, and continued to the time of his leaving it. He
would often take him on his knee, and make him play on his harpsichord
for an hour together, equally pleased and surprised with the
extraordinary proficiency of so young a person; for at this time he
could not exceed thirteen, as may easily be seen by comparing dates."
_Mattheson._ "He was born anno 1684.[5] He arrived in Berlin anno 1698.
Even if the various occurrences with Buononcini and Attilio, with the
Elector and his court, took only a few hours--nay, even if they are not
taken into account at all, there are still at least fourteen years. One
should think that he was much above seven years when Ariosti (Attilio)
took him on his lap."[6]
_Mainwaring_ (P. 31). "Before we advance any farther in his history, it
is necessary some account should be given of the opera at Hamburg, as
well as some character of the composer and singers. The principal
singers were Conratini and Mathyson. The latter was secretary to Sir
Cyril Wych, who was resident for the English court, had Handel for his
music-master, and was himself a fine player on the harpsichord. Mathyson
was no great singer, for which reason he sung only occasionally; but he
was a good actor, a good composer of lessons, and a good player on the
harpsichord. He wrote and translated several treatises. One that he
wrote was on composition. He had thoughts of writing the life of Handel
many years before his death. Had he pursued this design, he would have
had advantages beyond what we can pretend to, _i. e._, ampler and
fresher materials; at least, for so much of the life as had then
elapsed. All that is here intended, is to give a plain, artless account
of such particulars as we have been able to learn, and such only as we
have reason to believe authentic."
_Mattheson._ "This whole story, with everything subsequently recorded
about the operas in Hamburg, is so full of errors that one can scarcely
rectify them. The Conradin (not Conratini) possessed almost perfect
beauty, and had withal an extraordinary splendid voice, which extended
in equal power from [Music: 'A' below the treble staff] to [Music: 'D'
above the treble staff]. This gave her claim to be the principal singer.
Mattheson (not Mathyson) instructed her for several years; _i. e._, he
sung everything to her daily until she could retain it in her memory. At
that time no gentleman was called a great singer unless he had a soprano
voice, and such a gentleman we did not possess. An inferior teacher
would certainly have been of no use to the Conradin. It is ridiculous to
say of Mattheson that he sang only occasionally, considering that he was
fifteen years at the theatre, that he acted almost always the principal
character, exciting his audience by means of his unaffected singing as
well as by his mimic art, which is of the utmost importance in opera,
sometimes fear and terror, sometimes tears, sometimes merriment and
delight. On the 9th of June, 1703, he made Handel's acquaintance at an
organ, when Handel was 19-1/4 years old, and Mattheson 21-3/4, so that
the difference in age amounted only to two years and a half.[7] On the
17th of August, in the same year, they travelled together to Luebeck, and
played in that town, as well as in Hamburg, on the organ and
harpsichord, so to say in emulation, in which Handel proved himself the
most successful on the former instrument, but acknowledged himself
obliged to yield the palm to his rival on the latter instrument; so that
they made a compact together never to encroach upon each other's ground.
This they have also faithfully kept during five or six years. On the
20th of October, Mattheson brought out his fifth, or sixth opera, called
Cleopatra, on which occasion Handel played the harpsichord under the
direction of the former. Soon afterwards, on the 7th of November in the
same year, Sir John Wich,[8] Knight, Royal Ambassador of Great Britain,
engaged Mattheson as teacher and tutor for his son Cyril Wich, nine
years old; and soon afterwards he made him his Secretary, with a salary
of three hundred Reichsthaler, and two hundred _ditto_ perquisites _per
annum_. This gave occasion for jealous looks, especially as he now bid
farewell to the theatre. Thus, after a secure foundation had been laid,
the progress was very perceptible. True, the young master Wich had
already had a few very unimportant lessons from Handel; they did not
give satisfaction; the tutor was therefore appealed to, and under his
guidance the young gentleman attained, in the course of time, a high
degree of perfection. He succeeded his father, after the death of the
latter, and obtained in 1729 the hereditary dignity of a Baronet.
Mattheson always remained in royal service, was twelve or thirteen times
'Charge des Affaires,' was employed on important missions, etc.,--as has
already been circumstantially recorded in the 'Ehrenpforte,' published
in 1740. At last, after the lapse of fifty years, the highly-meritorious
Baronet departed to a better world on the 18th of August, when he had
just returned from an embassy to Russia. If the author of the present
biography had consulted Mattheson's books, especially the
above-mentioned 'Ehrenpforte,' and the 'Critica Musica,' which are
_publici juris_, he would not have been devoid of authentic materials.
Under those favourable conditions the though not _great_ yet formerly
_principal_ singer and actor composed, notwithstanding all diplomatic
and pressing dispatches in the whole district of Lower-Saxony, not only
a great number of sacred pieces for the Church, but oratorios, operas,
and music for the harpsichord and other instruments, which cannot be
unknown in England. Besides he was occupied as Kapellmeister of the Duke
of Holstein, as Canonicus et Cantor Cathedralis Hamburgensis, and as
director of several grand concerts; he wrote not _one_, but _eighty-six_
books, most of which treat profoundly of the theory of music and the art
of singing. Furthermore, when the St. Michael's Church was burnt down,
he contributed some forty thousand marks for a new organ, paid the money
in advance, and intends to do more _per codicillum_ in different ways.
His life, led in the fear of God, extends now to the eightieth year, in
cheerfulness and useful works. For the sake of truth this is here
inserted."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 32). "Conratini excelled greatly, both as an actress
and as a singer. Keysar[9] did the same as a composer; but, being a man
of gaiety and expence, involved himself in debts, which forced him to
abscond. His operas for some time continued to be performed during his
absence. On his disappearing, the person who before had played the
second harpsichord demanded the first. This occasioned a dispute between
him and Handel, the particulars of which, partly for the sake of their
singularity, and partly on account of their importance, may deserve to
be mentioned. On what reasons Handel grounded his claim to the first
harpsichord I do not understand. He had played a violin in the
orchestra, he had a good command on this instrument, and was known to
have a better on the other. But the older candidate[10] was not unfit
for the office, and insisted on the right of succession. Handel seemed
to have no plea but that of natural superiority, of which he was
conscious, and from which he would not recede. This dispute occasioned
parties in the Opera-house. On the one side it was said, with great
appearance of reason, that to set such a boy as Handel over a person so
much his senior, was both unjust and unprecedented. On the other, it was
urged with some plausibility, that the opera was not to be ruined for
punctilios; that it was easy to foresee, from the difficulties Keysar
was under, that a composer would soon be wanted, but not so easy to find
a person capable of succeeding him, unless it were Handel. In short,
matters, they said, were now at that pass that the question, if fairly
stated, was not who should conduct the opera, but whether there should
be any opera at all. These arguments prevailed; and he to whom the first
place seemed of course to be due, was constrained to yield it to his
stripling competitor. But, how much he felt the indignity may be guessed
from the nature and degree of his resentment, more suited to the
glowing temper of an Italian, than to the phlegmatic constitution of a
German."
_Mattheson._ "He calls the Germans phlegmatic, and a _querelle
allemande_ does not occur to him."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 35). "For, determined to make Handel pay dear for his
priority, he stifled his rage for the present, only to wait an
opportunity to give it full vent. As they were coming out of the
orchestra, he made a push at him with a sword, which, being aimed full
at his heart, would for ever have removed him from the office he had
usurped, but for the friendly _Score_ which he accidentally carried in
his bosom; and through which to have forced it, would have demanded all
the might of Ajax himself. Had this happened in the early ages, not a
mortal but would have been persuaded that Apollo himself had interposed
to preserve him, in the form of a music-book. From the circumstances
which are related of this affair, it has more the appearance of an
assassination than of a rencounter; if the latter, one of Handel's years
might well be wanting the courage, or the skill, to defend himself; if
the former, supposing him capable of making a defence, he could not be
prepared for it. How many great men, in the very dawning of their glory
have been planted, like him, on the very verge of destruction! as if
Fortune, jealous of Nature, made a show of sacrificing her noblest
productions only to remind her of that supremacy to which she aspires.
Whatever might be the merits of the quarrel at first,"----
_Mattheson._ "Here I must again interrupt the subtle reasoner, in order
to show him his confusion, which is even greater and ruder than the
preceding one, since that contained only above a dozen falsehoods, while
we have here double the number. The cause of the quarrel was, indeed,
quite different from what is here related. It was already mentioned long
since, with all possible modesty, in the 'Ehrenpforte,' p. 94 and 193;
but there was then no occasion, as there is now, to remind the reader
that a cool box on the ear is no assassination, but rather a necessary
warning to prepare for defence. This settles the first statement. The
incorrectly-informed author relates a fable rather than a true event.
Never, so long as can be remembered, have two harpsichords been played
together in the orchestra of the opera in Hamburg at the same time; and
as there has always been but one, a dispute about it, as narrated, could
not possibly have occurred. Now, as to this dispute is attributed the
origin of the fight, the remainder of the invention falls with it to the
ground. There we have the second blunder. Subsequently erroneous
statements are so frequent that it is scarcely possible to count them.
Handel, in the beginning, played only the second violin in the
orchestra; and he was, as may easily be conceived, not a more
accomplished performer on that instrument than any other member of the
orchestra. There we have the third falsehood, which is besides a
boasting untruth. The fray occurred on the 5th of December, 1704.
Handel, whom the biographer insists, as much as is in his power, on
making younger the older he grows, was nearly twenty-one years of
age,[11] tall, strong, broad, and vigorous in body; he was,
consequently, man enough to defend himself, and to make use of the sword
which he had hanging at his side. That is the fourth point, and a strong
one too, which a writer very sensitive of his reputation should
especially bear in mind when he, instead of recording real facts,
indulges in high-flown laudations, and occasions the translator much
unnecessary trouble."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 37). "Whatever might be the merits of the quarrel at
first, Handel seemed now to have purchased his title to precedence by
the dangers he had incurred to support it. What he and his friends
expected, soon happened. From conducting the performance, he became
composer of the opera. Keiser, from his unhappy situation, could no
longer supply the manager, who therefore applied to Handel, and
furnished him with a drama to set. The name of it was Almira, and this
was the first opera which he made. The success of it was so great that
it ran for thirty nights without interruption. He was at this time not
much above fourteen; before he was fifteen he made a second, entitled
Florinda; and soon after, a third, called Nerone; which were heard with
the same applause."
_Mattheson._ "The fifth brag, as to a certain opera having been
performed in Hamburg, with every advantage and good result, thirty times
without intermission, is surely not worth mentioning. The sixth,
however, is even still finer. Let us just analyze it a little. 'Almira'
was performed the first time on the 8th of January, anno 1705. Now, our
chronologist counts from the 24th of February, 1684, when Handel was
born, until the 8th of January, 1705, as a little more than fourteen
years, while the period really is nearly twenty-one years.[12] But he is
not particular about seven years. A fine arithmetician, to be sure!
Mistake No. 7. 'Nero' was not the third of Handel's operas, as our
author erroneously states (mistake No. 8), but the second; and it was
performed for the first time on the 25th of February, in 1705. Thus,
there were only forty-eight days between the two performances; at the
utmost, seven weeks. In the seven weeks there were seven Sundays, seven
Saturdays, fourteen post-days, not to count the St. Mary-days and the
holydays. How is it then possible that the 'Almira' could have been
represented thirty times without interruption? Whoever believes only
half of what this historicus here writes, believes too much. That was
mistake No. 9. The tenth concerns the Florindo as a man, not the
Florinda as a female. Handel's opera called 'Florindo' was not his
second, but his third; and it was performed in 1708, three years after
'Nero.' Meanwhile, Keiser had not only composed a new 'Almira,' as well
as the operas 'Octavia,' 'Lucretia,' 'Fedelta coronata,' 'Masagnello
furioso,' 'Sueno,' 'Genio di Holsatia,' 'Carnival of Venice;' but also
Schieferdecker had brought out his 'Justin'; Gruenwald, his 'Germanicum;'
and Graupner his 'Dido.' In the year 1708, Handel produced another
opera, called 'Daphne,' which was the fourth of those he wrote for
Hamburg, and which appears to be unknown to his biographer, as he omits
it entirely. Has the man not had trustworthy sources for
information?[13] Howbeit, the dozen mistakes is complete, and we merely
remark in addition, that in 1708 Handel was not 15 years of age, but
quite 24. This _error calculi_ may be regarded as a master stroke. Did
we not know with certainty that George Frederick Handel died anno 1759,
on the fourteenth of April, at the age of 76,[14] and we had to rely
upon this blundering prosaic Homer for information respecting our
musical Achilles, he would have remained constantly fifteen years,
perhaps even _imberbis_ until he came to the grave, and our barber in
Hamburg, who every alternate day attended him, during five or six years,
would have gained his money wrongfully. If an Englishman thinks that he
can entertain us with his dreams in his mixture-language, he must be
prepared for an answer from us in our heroic language. We understand him
well, and have learnt his tongue; if he does not understand us, he may
still learn this too.... Having observed Handel during his sojourn in
Hamburg, we leave the celebrated man to the Italians and the English;
but we do not believe that the moon is made of green cheese."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 42). "Four or five years had elapsed from the time of
his coming to Hamburg to that of his leaving it."
_Mattheson._ "Should say five or six."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 42). "Instead of being chargeable to his mother he
began to be serviceable to her before he was well settled in his new
situation. Though he had continued to send her remittances from time to
time, yet, clear of his own expenses, he had made up a purse of 200
ducats. On the strength of this fund he resolved to set out for Italy."
_Mattheson._ "Anno 1709 he was still in Hamburg, but did nothing.[15]
Then there occurred the opportunity of his travelling with Herr von
Binitz to Italy, free of expense; and in 1710 he had his 'Agrippina'
performed at Venice."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 44). "The very first answer of the fugue in the
overture for 'Mucius Scaevola' [an opera by Handel] affords an instance
of this kind [viz., a musical licence]. Geminiani, the strictest
observer of rule, was so charmed with this direct transgression of it
that, on hearing its effect, he cried out _Quel semitono_ (meaning the
F-sharp) _vale un mondo_!"
_Mattheson._ "What does that prove? Nothing!"
_Mainwaring_ (P. 50). "At the age of eighteen he made [at Florence] the
opera of Rodrigo, for which he was presented with 100 sequins and a
service of plate."
_Mattheson._ "Actually an intentional miscalculation of eight years!"
_Mainwaring_ (P. 52). "In three weeks he finished [at Venice] his
'Agrippina,' which was performed twenty-seven nights successively."
_Mattheson._ "In the year 1709, at his departure from Hamburg, Handel
was 25 years old. He resided a year in Florence before he went to
Venice, where he had his 'Agrippina' performed at the theatre of St. Gio
Crisostomo, during the Carnival in 1710. Now, let him calculate who can,
and convince himself whether this makes, from February 24th, 1684,
eighteen years, as our biographer says, or whether it amounts to
twenty-six."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 74). "It was in the winter of the year 1710 when he
arrived at London."
_Mattheson._ "In this year he performed his 'Agrippina' at Venice, and
in 1709 he was still in Hamburg."[16]
_Mainwaring_ (P. 74). "During this period scarce a mail arrived from
Holland which did not bring some fresh accounts of victories or
advantages gained by the English hero [Marlborough] over the armies of a
monarch but lately the terror of Europe, though now the scorn of every
Dutch burgomaster."
_Mattheson._ "What a Frenchman may say to this is his own concern. In
Handel's biography it is lugged in; and such scurrilities reveal an
ignoble heart."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 88). "Our business is not to play the panegyrist but
the historian."
_Mattheson._ "If you know that, blessed are you if you act upon it."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 110). "Having one day some words with Cuzzoni on her
refusing to sing _Falsa imagine_ in 'Ottone': 'Oh! Madame,' Handel said,
'je scais bien que vous etes une veritable diablesse; mais je vous ferai
scavoir, moi, que je suis Beelzebub, le _chef_ des diables!' With this
he took her up by the waist, and swore that if she made any more words
he would fling her out of the window. It is to be noted that this was
formerly one of the methods of executing criminals in some parts of
Germany, a process not unlike that of the Tarpeian rock, and probably
derived from it."
_Mattheson._ "This heroic deed was undoubtedly accomplished unawares.
Who could face such a woman with her claws? The Quixotic story with its
ingenious reference to the Tarpeian rock, and to criminal processes,
testify to the author's extensive reading in law and history. Whoever
can read it without a smile is commendable, especially if he is a
German, better informed and phlegmatic."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 115). "The little taste he [Handel] had already had of
adversity lessened that self-confidence which success is apt to inspire.
He found that it was not the necessary consequence of great abilities,
and that without prudence the greatest may be almost annihilated in the
opinions of men."
_Mattheson._ "To this the British proverb applies: 'Give a man luck and
throw him into the Thames.'"
_Mainwaring_ (P. 116). "He now removed to Covent-garden, and entered
into partnership with Rich, the master of that house. Hasse and Porpora
were the composers at the Haymarket. When the former was invited over,
it is remarkable that the first question he asked was whether Handel was
dead. Being answered in the negative he refused to come, from a
persuasion that where his countryman was--for they were both Saxons by
birth--no other person of the same profession was likely to make any
figure."
_Mattheson._ "This agrees with a remark of mine before made. Hasse was
born in Bergedorf, a small town belonging to Hamburg and Luebeck in
common; he is, therefore, a Lower-Saxon of the highest type.... However,
the reason why these two Saxons did not wish to encroach upon each
other's precincts was a very different one from that indicated by our
biographer."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 132). "Dublin has always been famous for the gaiety and
splendour of its court, the opulence and spirit of its principal
inhabitants, the valour of its military, and the genius of its learned
men. Where such things were held in esteem he [Handel] rightly reckoned
that he could not better pave the way to his success than by setting out
with a striking instance and public act of generosity and benevolence.
The first step that he made was to perform his Messiah for the benefit
of the city-prison."
_Mattheson._ "On a beau etre genereux et liberal, quand il n'en coute
que des chansons, et que d'autres payent les violons; c'est en bon
allemand: _Mit der Wurst nach dem Schinken werfen_ ('To throw the
sausage at the ham')."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 135). "The Foundling Hospital [in London] originally
rested on the slender foundation of private benefactions. At a time when
this institution was yet in its infancy; when all men seemed to be
convinced of its utility; when nothing was at all problematical but the
possibility of supporting it;--Handel formed the noble resolution to
lend his assistance, and perform his Messiah annually for its benefit.
The sums raised by each performance were very considerable, and
certainly of great consequence in such a crisis of affairs. But, what
was of much greater, was the magic of his name and the universal
character of his sacred drama."
_Mattheson._ "Notes were his magic, or his black-art."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 137). "So that it may truly be affirmed that one of the
noblest and most extensive charities that ever was planned by the
wisdom, or projected by the piety of men, in some degree owes its
continuance as well as prosperity to the patronage of Handel."
_Mattheson._ "By this he was not out of pocket; it rather brought him
credit, which is better than money."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 138). "In the year 1751 a gutta serena deprived him of
his sight. This misfortune sunk him for a time into the deepest
despondency. He could not rest until he had undergone some operations as
fruitless as they were painful. Finding it no longer possible for him to
manage alone, he sent to Mr. Smith to desire that he should play for
him, and assist him in conducting the oratorios."
_Mattheson._ "He remained blind until his death,--a period of eight
years. Nothing is said here of a so-called monumental column, and of an
amazingly large property left by Handel, although it has been a subject
of much gossip."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 141). "His incessant and intense application to the
studies of his profession, rendered constant and large supplies of
nourishment the more necessary to recruit his exhausted spirits."
_Mattheson._ "J. Sirach, chap. xxxviii., v. 34; Phil., chap. iii., v.
19."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 142). "The design of the foregoing sheets is only to
give the reader those parts of his character as a Man, that any way tend
to open and explain his character as an Artist."
_Mattheson._ "If this were done, the arts and the manners would exhibit
not unfrequently striking contrasts."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 143). "The author has nothing to add but his sincere
wishes that every artist who is truly deserving in his profession may
meet with a person equally desirous of doing justice to his memory."
_Mattheson._ "This wish is as kind as it is reasonable. It proves the
belief of the author that there must be other people, unknown to him,
who, on account of their arts, deserve quite as much honour as Handel.
Alas! how much pains has the 'Great-Thorough-Bass School' taken to show
this, not to mention the 'Triumphal Arch.'[17] ... Bach, Fux, Graun,
Graupner, Gruenewald, Heinichen, Keiser, etc., have died without
experiencing it; perhaps the same will happen with Hasse, and with
several others."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 149). "A great quantity of music, not mentioned in the
Catalogue, was made [by Handel] in Italy and Germany. How much of it is
yet in being, is not known. Two chests-full were left at Hamburg,
besides some at Hanover, and some at Halle."
_Mattheson._ "We Hamburgians have hitherto heard nothing of those two
chests. In Wich's music-book of the year 1704 are two minuets and half
an air, that is all."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 164). "The generality of mankind have not enough of
delicacy to be much affected with minute instances of beauty, but yet
are so formed as to be transported with every the least mark of grandeur
and sublimity."
_Mattheson._ "That is true."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 165). "The taste in music, both of the Germans and
Italians, is suited to the different characters of the two nations. That
of the first is rough and martial; and their music consists of strong
effects produced, without much delicacy, by the rattle of a number of
instruments."
_Mattheson._ "Surely this is not phlegmatic, as before said."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 174). "However well some of the Italians may have
succeeded in the management of the instrumental parts in their
song-music, there is one point in which Handel stands alone, and in
which he may possibly never be equalled; I mean in the instrumental
parts of his choruses and full church-music."
_Mattheson._ "This is true enough; but it was all derived from Zachau
and his organ-playing. Germany is the fatherland of all powerful
harmony, elaborate compositions for the organ, fugues and chorales, used
in Divine Service. Italy has melody for her daughter, with songstresses,
singers, and very delicate solo-players on violin-instruments to touch
the heart. France produces its magnificent choruses, instrumental
pieces, dance-music, to cheer the heart; and to England we leave the
honour of admiring and recompensing these rarities."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 179). "But how shall we excuse for those instances of
coarseness and indelicacy which occur so frequently in the airs of his
oratorios? For, as the melody is a fundamental and essential part in
vocal music, it should seem that nothing can atone for the neglect of
it. The best painter would be blamed should he draw off the attention
too much from the principal figure in his piece, however perfect, by the
very high and exquisite finishing of some inferior object; but, much
more would he deserve to be blamed if he left that figure the least
finished which all the rules of his art required to be the most so. Now,
in music, though there may sometimes be occasion for giving the
instruments the ascendancy over the voices, yet never should the
song-parts be unmeaning or inexpressive, much less coarse or ordinary."
_Mattheson._ "Golden words! All this, however, is owing to the
circumstance that Handel was neither a singer nor an actor. During a
period of five or six years, when we had daily intercourse with each
other, I never heard a singing tone from his mouth. When Earl Granville
(at that time Lord Carteret) was here in Hamburg, and heard me sing and
also play, he said: 'Handel plays also thus, but he does not sing thus.'
In my opinion singing and acting are of great assistance to a composer
of dramatic music. Hasse knows this well, and has cultivated both
earnestly, _me teste_. Keiser, likewise, sang very admirably. Both have,
therefore, extraordinarily charming melodies."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 202). "In his fugues and overtures, Handel is quite
original. The style of them is peculiar to himself, and in no way like
that of any master before him. In the formation of these pieces,
knowledge and invention seem to have contended for the mastery."
_Mattheson._ "A certain philosopher recently made himself conspicuous by
maintaining that the Fine Arts ought not to be regarded as Sciences,
because their systems are sensuous. Nevertheless, the old adage always
stands firm: _Nihil esse in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensu._
Our biographer belongs perhaps to that sect, for he scarcely uses the
word science, even when he refers to the science of music, as on the
present occasion. He always uses only the word _knowledge_ or _skill_.
Perhaps this is unintentional. Thus much, however, is certain: musicians
are in need of literary works, and he who can only write notes, his
honour and reputation are only _vox, practeraque nihil_. On the second
of March, this year [1761,] we had here, in Hamburg, a sale of a large
number of scarce and valuable books on all sciences; but the science of
music was not represented by a single work in the comprehensive
catalogue. That is surely neglect of a science! If any one can show me
that I am mistaken, I shall be happy."
_Mainwaring_ (P. 208). "Little, indeed, are the hopes of ever equalling,
much less of excelling, so vast a proficient in his own way; however, as
there are so many avenues to excellence still open, so many paths to
glory still untrod, it is hoped that the example of this illustrious
foreigner will rather prove an incentive than a discouragement to the
industry and genius of our own countrymen."
_Mattheson._ "Whoever intends to describe accurately the life of Handel,
can hardly do it without a reference to the following books: 'Musica
Critica,' Hamburg, 1722; 'The Musical Patriot,' Hamburg, 1728;
'Ehrenpforte,' Hamburg, 1740."
Mattheson now quotes an extract from a letter of Handel's, dated
February 24th, 1719, which has already been given above;[18] and he
remarks: "To promise, and to fulfil a promise, are two things." He
quotes once more Handel's complimentary letter, also given above,[19]
which evidently afforded him great satisfaction; and he adds: "Even the
most insignificant letters in some degree depict the writer, in
reference to the time and place in which they were written. Horace is
quite right: _Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt._"
Some writers have blamed Mattheson very much on account of his vanity
and his jealousy of Handel. Still, it remains a debatable question
whether the conceit of his detractors does not perhaps surpass his own.
It is a common practice with inferior musical authors to assume an air
of superiority, and to endeavour to make themselves important by finding
fault with others who have distinguished themselves in the same field in
which they are labouring, and to whom they ought to be grateful.
Mattheson had not only a better scientific education than most musicians
of his time, but his literary productions are also more readable than
those of his modern commentators who censure him.
[Illustration]
[1] Vol. I., p. 94.
[2] Hawkins's 'History of Music,' Vol. V., p. 253.
[3] Halle.
[4] Should be 1685.
[5] That Handel was born on the 23rd of February, 1685, and not on the
24th of February, 1684, is correctly stated in J. J. Walther's
'Musicalisches Lexicon,' Leipzig, 1732. To settle the uncertainty about
the date, which appears to have arisen chiefly through Mainwaring's
mis-statement, J. J. Eschenburg consulted the Baptismal Register of the
Frauenkirche in Halle, where he found the year 1685 given. (_See_ 'Dr.
Karl Burney's Nachricht von Georg Friedrich Handel's Lebens umstaenden,
und der ihm zu London im May und Juny, 1784, angestellten
Gedaechtnissfeyer, aus den Englischen uebersetzt von J. J. Eschenburg;
Berlin, 1785').--Foerstemann ('Haendel's Stammbaum,' Leipzig, 1844), and
others, have subsequently convinced themselves that Eschenburg's date is
correct. The year 1684, given on Handel's Monument in Westminster Abbey,
therefore, requires rectifying.
[6] Chrysander ('G. F. Handel,' Leipzig, 1858, Vol. I., p. 52) surmises
that Handel was not in Berlin in 1698, but in 1696, when he was eleven
years old.
[7] This is a mis-statement. Handel, born in 1685, was 18 years old; and
Mattheson, born in 1681, was 22 years old.
[8] Wych?
[9] Keiser.
[10] Mattheson.
[11] He was not quite twenty years old.
[12] See the note above, page 11.
[13] Mainwaring had probably obtained some of his information
from Handel himself; but he may have forgotten the dates, or Handel may
not have remembered them exactly.
[14] Handel was 74 years old when he died.
[15] Mattheson is mistaken here. It has been satisfactorily
ascertained that Handel left Hamburg for Italy in the year 1706. (See G.
F. Haendel, von F. Chrysander, Leipzig, 1858, Vol. I., p. 139.)
[16] The following well-authenticated data may serve to correct
the "corrections" of Mattheson:--Handel was born in 1685; went to
Hamburg in 1703; thence to Italy in 1706; from Italy to Hanover in 1710;
thence to London in 1710; back to Hanover in 1711; returned to England
in 1712, where he died in 1759.
[17] Two works by Mattheson.
[18] Page 4.
[19] Page 7.
[Illustration]
DIABOLIC MUSIC.
It is a suggestive fact that those spirits of the mountains, rivers, and
of lonely places, which delight in music and dancing, are, according to
popular tradition, generally well-intentioned and harmless creatures.
Sometimes, however, a very evil-disposed spirit resorts to these arts
for the purpose of accomplishing some wicked design. A few stories from
different countries which illustrate the superstitious notions on the
subject will be given here. Although the stories are still in the mouth
of the people, it can hardly be said that they are still really
believed, at least not in European countries. But there are always
ignorant persons who half believe whatever appeals forcibly to their
imagination.
THE AWFUL DECEPTION.
At Arfeld, a small village in Germany, a number of young lads and lasses
were assembled one winter evening in a warm and comfortable room, the
girls spinning and singing, as they usually do on these occasions.
One of the lads, in silly playfulness, said to the girls he should like
them to try whether they could hang him on a single thread of their
spinning. The novel idea found ready approval. They made him stand on a
chair, and bound a thin thread around his neck, fastening it on a nail
under the ceiling.
At this moment all were greatly surprised by hearing strains of
exquisitely fine music penetrating into the house. They directly
hastened outside the door to ascertain whence it came; but there they
neither heard nor saw anything.
On returning to the room, they found, to their great astonishment and
dismay, that the chair had been drawn from under the lad, and that the
poor fellow was hanging on the thread and was dead.[20]
THE INDEFATIGABLE FIDDLER.
The following strange event happened in the parish of Boerne, two miles
south of Ripen, in Denmark, and is still known to the people in all its
details.
One Sunday evening, a company of young men and girls of the village had
assembled in a farm-house, and were indulging in all kinds of frolic and
flirting. After they had enjoyed their nonsense for some time they
thought they should like to have a little dancing. In the midst of much
noisy and useless debating how to procure a musician to play to them,
one of the youths--the wildest of the party--cut the matter short by
saying boastingly: "Now, my lads, leave that to me! I will bring you a
musician, even if it should be the devil himself!" With these words the
wicked youth placed his cap knowingly on one side of his head, and
marched out of the room.
He had not advanced many steps along the road when he met with an old
beggarly-looking man, who carried a fiddle under his arm. The lad lost
no time in striking a bargain with the man, and triumphantly introduced
him into the house. In a few minutes all the young folks were wildly
dancing up and down the room to the old crowder's fascinating music; and
soon the perspiration actually streamed down their faces. They now
desired to stop for a moment to rest themselves a little. But this they
found impossible so long as the old crowder continued playing; and they
could not induce him to leave off, however earnestly they implored him.
It was really an awful affair!
Soon they would have been all dead from sheer exhaustion, had it not so
happened, fortunately for them, that there resided in the lower part of
the house an old deaf woman, the housekeeper of the farmer, who
accidentally becoming aware of the desperate condition of the dancers,
ran as fast as she could to fetch the parish priest. The holy man was
already in bed, and it took some time to arouse him; and then he had to
dress himself. But at last he was quite prepared; and when he arrived at
the farm-house and saw the fearful scene, he at once took out of his
pocket a little book, from which he read something in Latin or Hebrew.
Scarcely had he read a verse, when the indefatigable fiddler let his arm
sink, and drawing himself gradually up until he stood merely on the tips
of his toes, he suddenly vanished through the ceiling, leaving no traces
behind. Some people say, however, that there was a sulphurous odour
about the house shortly after this miraculous event.
THE EFFECTUAL EXPEDIENT.
The next story, told by the Manx people, is almost literally transcribed
from Waldron's 'History and Description of the Isle of Man,' London,
1744.
"A fiddler having agreed with a person, who was a stranger, for so much
money, to play to some company he should bring him to, all the twelve
days of Christmas, and having received an earnest for it, saw his new
master vanish into the earth the moment he had made the bargain. Nothing
could exceed the terror of the poor fiddler. He found he had engaged
himself in the devil's service, and he looked on himself as already
doomed; but, having recourse to a clergyman he received some hope. The
clergyman desired him, as he had taken an earnest, to go when he should
be summoned; but, whatever tunes should be called for, to play none but
psalm-tunes.
"On the day appointed the same person appeared, with whom he went, but
with what inward reluctance it is easy to guess. He punctually obeying
the minister's directions, the company to whom he played were so angry
that they all vanished at once, leaving him at the top of a high hill,
and so bruised and hurt, though he was not sensible when or from what
hand he received the blows, that it was with the utmost difficulty he
got home."
THE OLD CHORALE.
The following is recorded from Oldenburg, North Germany.
The sexton at Esenshammer, one day on entering the church alone, heard
the organ playing most charmingly. He looked up and saw to his great
surprise that there was no player; it played by itself. He lost no time
in running to the Pastor, to tell him what was going on in the church.
The Pastor quickly put on his gown and hastened with his sexton to
witness the phenomenon. Sure enough; the organ was playing wonderfully
all kinds of profane airs; they both heard it distinctly. But, look
where they would, they could not see any performer.
After having recovered a little from his astonishment, the Pastor in a
solemn tone of voice called out towards the organ:--
"If thou up there canst play everything, just play to me our old Chorale
_Wer nur den lieben Gott laesst walten_."
In a moment the organ was silent.
THE HAUNTED MANSION.
Diabolic musical performances have often been heard at midnight in a
certain mansion in Schleswig-Holstein. Years ago, the young and gay
daughter of the then lord of the manor, at a family festivity and grand
ball, proved herself so insatiable in dancing, that, after having danced
all the evening, she flippantly exclaimed: "And if the devil himself
appeared and invited me to dance, I should not decline!"
Scarcely had she said these words, when the door of the ball-room flew
open, and an unknown cavalier entered, went up to her, and led her to
dance. Round and round they whirled, unceasingly, incessantly faster and
faster, until--O, horror! suddenly she fell down dead.
A long time has elapsed since this occurred; but the lady still haunts
the mansion. Every year on the day when the frightful event took place,
precisely at midnight, the mansion resounds with the most diabolic
music. The lady arises from her grave and repairs to the ball-room,
where she anxiously waits for a partner; for, if any good Christian
should come and dance with her, she afterwards will have rest. Hitherto
no one has had the courage to stay in the house during the awful hour. A
daring young adventurer once had nearly succeeded. In that case, the
mansion would have come into his possession, according to an old deed
found in the house. But as soon as the diabolic music began, his courage
forsook him, and he made off as fast as he could. It terrified him so
much, that even now when he hears violins he trembles all over, and
imagines the diabolic noise is recommencing.
THE MODE ASBEIN.
A modern writer on Arabic music, as it is practised in Algiers and
Tunis, mentions among the various Modes used at the present day a
peculiarly impressive one, called Asbein, which the Mohammedans believe
to have been especially appropriated by Satan for the purpose of
tempting man. They have a long story respecting its origin and demoniac
effects. The writer alluded to, a Frenchman, had the gratification of
hearing a piece or two played in this Mode by a musician, who had the
reputation of being one of the best performers in Tunis, and who used to
entertain the frequenters of a certain coffee-house in a suburb. To this
place the Frenchman repaired, and induced the musician to play in the
Mode Asbein. To surmise from his description of the performance, there
must have been something really frightful in the degree of ecstacy which
the player exhibited. But there is something funny in the Frenchman's
mode of reasoning, which deserves to be noticed, because it shows how
opinions like the above are sometimes adopted readily enough even by
professed sceptics. The Frenchman was a sceptic, and had made up his
mind before he proceeded to examine the matter, that the impression of
the Arabs respecting the Mode Asbein was due entirely to their religious
enthusiasm. They are, of course, Mohammedans. Now, after the
performance, the Frenchman accidentally learnt that the musician was a
Jew. Then he no longer doubted the demoniac power of the Mode Asbein.
WITCHES.
Respecting the music of witches, a few short remarks may suffice. Every
one knows that witches, at their meetings, amuse themselves especially
with music and dancing. In Germany, the largest assemblages of these
objectionable beings take place in the night of the first of May
(Walpurgis), and the most favourite resort for their festivities is the
summit of the Harz mountain, called Brocken, or Blocksberg. The
musicians sit on old stumps of trees, or on projecting rocks, and fiddle
upon skulls of horses.
Whoever desires to witness these ghastly scenes must provide himself
with the upper board of an old coffin in which a knot has been forced
out, and must peep through the hole.
THE CHANGELING.
According to an old superstition, which was widely spread during the
Middle Ages, the elves sometimes steal a handsome, new-born child from
its cradle, and substitute an ill-formed, ugly child of their own. The
little Irish prodigy who is the hero of an event which happened in the
county of Tipperary, was such a Changeling. The story told of him, it
will be seen, is stamped with the peculiar wildness of fancy which
generally characterizes Irish fairy-tales.
Mick Flanigan and his wife, Judy, were a poor couple, blessed with
nothing but four little boys. Three of the children were as healthy and
rosy-cheeked as any thriving Irish boy you can meet with; but the
fourth was a little urchin, more ugly than it is possible to imagine;
and, even worse, he was as mischievous as he was ugly. Innumerable were
the tricks which he played upon his brothers, and even upon his parents.
Although before he was a twelve-month old he had already grown a
formidable set of teeth, and ate like a glutton, he would nevertheless
lie constantly in his cradle near the fire, even after he had reached
the age of five years. Resting on his back, and half closing his little
eyes, he would observe everything which was going on in the room,
watching for opportunities to annoy the people.
Now, one afternoon it came to pass that Tim Carrol, the blind bagpiper,
an old friend of the family, called in and sat down near the fire to
have a bit of chat. As he had brought his bagpipe with him, they soon
asked him to treat them with a tune. So blind Tim Carrol buckled on his
bagpipe, and began to play.
Presently the little urchin raised himself in the cradle, moved his ugly
head to and fro, and evidently manifested excessive delight at the nasal
sounds. When the affectionate mother saw how eagerly the child stretched
out both its hands for the bagpipe, she begged old blind Tim Carrol just
to humour her little darling for a moment; and as blind Tim was not the
man to say "No," he mildly laid the bagpipe upon the cradle. But how
great was their astonishment when the urchin took up the instrument,
and, handling it like a practised bagpiper, played without the least
effort a lively jig, then another, even more lively, and several others,
in rapid succession.
The first thing the father did was to sell his pig and to buy a bagpipe
for his prodigy. It soon turned out that the rogue had a peculiar tune
of his own, which made people dance however little they might feel
disposed for dancing. Even his poor mother happening to come into the
room one day with a pailfull of milk, and hearing that bewitching tune,
must needs let the pail drop, spill all the milk, and spin round like a
very top.
About the time when the boy was six years old, the farmer of the
village, by whom Mick Flanigan was employed as day labourer, had
various mischances with his cattle. Two of his cows lost their appetite,
and gave little or no milk. A very promising calf stumbled, and broke
both its hind legs. And shortly afterwards one of his best horses
suddenly got the colic and died in no time. The people in the village
had long since settled among themselves that there was something not
right in Mick Flanigan's family; so it naturally occurred to the farmer
that the imp with the bagpipe must be the cause of all his misfortunes.
He therefore thought it wise to give warning at once to Mick Flanigan,
and to advise him to look out for work elsewhere. Fortunately, poor Mick
Flanigan soon succeeded in getting employment at a farmer's, a few miles
off, who was in want of a ploughman.
On the appointed day the new master sent a cart to fetch the few
articles of furniture which Mick Flanigan could call his own. Having
placed the cradle with the boy and his bagpipe at the top, the whole
family drove off to their new home. When they had got about half the
way, they had to cross a river. Slowly they drove upon the rickety
bridge, little anticipating the exciting scene which now occurred. The
boy had hitherto remained very quiet in the cradle, apparently half
asleep as usual. But, just when the cart had reached the middle of the
bridge, he raised his head, looked wistfully at the water, and then
suddenly grasping his bagpipe he jumped down into the river.
His terrified parents set up a cry of distress, and made some efforts to
save him, when, to their unspeakable astonishment, they saw him
swimming, diving and gamboling about in the water like a very otter.
Nay, he actually began to play on his bagpipe, shouting lustily all the
while and exhibiting other signs which clearly showed that he was now in
his right element. Soon he disappeared entirely. Then the poor people
became fully convinced that the boy was a Changeling, and had now gone
home to his own kinsfolk.[21]
THE VENDISH SORCERER.
The Vends are a Slavonic race inhabiting some districts in Lusatia,
Germany. Although living amidst Germans, they still preserve their own
language, as well as a considerable number of national songs and legends
of their own, some of which are very beautiful.
The Vendish Sorcerer, whose name was Draho, lived in a mountain, near
the town of Teichnitz, at the time when the Christian religion was just
beginning to take root in Lusatia. He was, of course, a pagan; and every
scheme he could devise to hurt the defenceless Christians living
scattered about the neighbourhood, he did not fail remorselessly to put
into action. Moreover, his great power he derived from a magic whistle,
by means of which he made certain mischievous spirits subservient to his
will.
This sorcerer had a disciple, who, becoming acquainted with the
blessings of Christianity, forsook his wicked master, and seizing a
favourable opportunity when the old rogue was taking a nap, possessed
himself of the magic whistle, and flew from the mountain into the valley
to his friends the Christians.
Now, when the people learnt that the sorcerer had been deprived of his
whistle, they knew that his power was gone, and that they might venture
to approach him without incurring much danger. So they went up to the
top of the mountain, provided with all kinds of arms, and soon succeeded
in capturing the old pagan. Having securely bound him, they made a large
fire of wood, upon which they placed him, and solemnly burnt him to
death. Meanwhile, the disciple, who had already received Holy Baptism,
stepped forward and threw the magic whistle into the flame, that it
might be consumed without leaving a trace.
Nevertheless, every year in the spring, on the eve of Oculi Sunday, the
old sorcerer appears on the top of the mountain, and in the night blows
a most frightful shriek upon his magic whistle. The people who go out at
midnight to listen for it have not long to wait before they hear the
awful sound. For, what people are bent upon hearing, they are sure to
hear, especially if it is something objectionable.
THE RAT-CATCHER OF HAMELN.
In the year 1284, the town of Hameln, situated on the river Weser, in
Germany, became awfully infested with rats and mice. All kinds of traps,
poisons, and other means employed to destroy the vermin proved of no
avail, and the harassed citizens were actually at their wits' end what
to do. The plague grew daily more formidable until the people had every
reason to fear that before long not only their victuals but they
themselves would all be devoured.
When the misery had reached a height positively frightful, there
appeared in Hameln a strange man with a queer-shaped hat, who offered to
deliver the town from the scourge for a stipulated reward. Some say the
reward he demanded was a round sum of money; others maintain that he
wanted to marry the burgomaster's pretty daughter. Whatever it may have
been, there is certainly no doubt that it was readily promised him.
As soon as the bargain had been struck, the strange man drew from his
pocket a small pipe, began to play and walked through the streets of the
town. Presently, all the rats and mice came running out of their holes
and followed him. Lustily playing he marched with his odd army out of
the town and into the river Weser, where every rat and mouse was
drowned.
Then the inhabitants of Hameln rejoiced greatly, as after a victory over
a powerful enemy. But, when the strange man came to claim the promised
reward, they withheld it from him, and treated him with derision.
However, a few days afterwards, how sorely were they punished for their
ingratitude!
The enraged rat-catcher unexpectedly appeared, this time dressed
entirely in red. Strange to say, even his face and hands seemed to be
quite red. He took his pipe and walked through the streets, playing as
before. Presently, all the little children of Hameln came running out
of the houses and followed him. He marched with them out of the town
into the mountains, where he vanished with them into a deep hole in a
rock.
Some persons believe that the children afterwards came to light again,
very far off in Transylvania. At all events, there are villages in that
country in which the people speak the same language as in Hameln.
The gate through which the strange man took the children is still
extant, and there are other evidences of similar importance to be found
in Hameln, which prove to the satisfaction of certain respectable
citizens that the story is quite true in all its details.
The earliest record of the Rat-catcher of Hameln written in English is
probably the quaint one contained in 'A Restitution of decayed
Intelligence in Antiquities by the studie and travaile of Richard
Verstegan,' Antwerp, 1605. Verstegan concludes his relation with the
statement: "And this great wonder hapned on the 22 day of July, in the
yeare of our Lord one thowsand three hundreth seauentie and six." The
brothers Grimm, however, than whom a better authority could not be
adduced, say that according to the old records preserved in the
town-hall of Hameln the memorable event occurred on the 22nd of June,
Anno Domini 1284, and that there was formerly on the wall of the
town-hall the following old and oddly-spelt inscription:
Im Jahr 1284 na Christi gebort
Tho Hamel worden uthgewort
Hundert and dreiszig Kinder dasuelwest geborn
Dorch einen Piper under den Koeppen verlorn.[22]
Which means in plain English--
In the year 1284, after the birth of Christ,
There were led out of Hameln
One hundred and thirty children, natives of that place,
By a Piper, and were lost under the mountain.
The reader will perhaps be surprised at the smallness of the number
recorded of the children lost. But, Hameln is not a large town, and was
most likely even less populous six hundred years ago than it is at the
present day.
THE EXQUISITE ORGAN.
The following story is told by the villagers in the Netherlands.
Once upon a time a countryman of the province of Hainault went on some
business matters to the village of Flobeck, which lies not far from
Krekelberg. When he was crossing the flat and lonely tract of land, some
miles south-east of Flobeck, he heard some distant music, which came so
sweetly through the air that he thought he would just take a few steps
in the direction whence it proceeded to ascertain its origin.
He had not gone far when he saw a beautiful palace, from which the
fascinating music evidently issued. This astonished him greatly; but he
was not one of those faint-hearted men who would have crossed themselves
and taken to their heels. Quite the contrary; he at once determined to
investigate the matter a little nearer. And so he entered the palace.
Having ascended the broad staircase leading to the principal rooms, he
opened the large door and paced from one hall to another. All were
splendidly decorated, and most richly furnished. But, nowhere did he
meet with any living being. Soon it became evident to him that the
inmates were feasting and dancing in an interior court of the palace.
Thither he bent his steps.
To be sure, there they were!--a large assemblage of odd-looking people
in high glee dancing to the performance of a musician, who had on his
lap an instrument in appearance not unlike a barrel-organ; for it had a
long handle which the player turned with all his energy.
Nov, when these strange people saw the countryman peeping in, they
beckoned him to come forward. He availed himself gladly of the
invitation, and took his seat by the side of the musician; for, no
music he had ever heard in his life appeared to him comparable to that
which the man produced on the admirable instrument with the long handle.
Sometimes it was very soft and deep-toned;--suddenly it rose up to a
high pitch, like an AEolian harp when a gust of wind passes over its
strings;--now it gradually diminished in power, and its sweetness
actually moved our countryman to tears;--now, again, it grew suddenly so
loud, as if a whole military band was playing, only that it was much
more beautiful.
The countryman expressed his admiration in the highest terms, adding
that nothing in the world could delight him more than to be permitted to
turn the handle of the exquisite organ for a little while. The musician
showed himself quite willing to afford him this pleasure, and placed the
instrument on his lap.
The delighted countryman turned the handle a few times round:--No sound
was forthcoming.--He turned again, more vigorously:--The delicious music
began.
"Oh! Ever-blessed Mother Mary! how exquisite!" exclaimed the enraptured
countryman.
Scarcely had he said the words when everything vanished, and he found
himself sitting in a fallow field, having on his lap a large cat whose
tail he had been wrenching so vehemently that poor puss was still mewing
from its very heart in most ear-piercing modulations. On the spot where
the palace had stood he saw a large dust heap, and that was all.[23]
[20] 'Sagen, Gebraeuche, und Maerchen aus Westfahlen, gesammelt von A.
Kuhn. Leipzig, 1859.' Vol. I., p. 175.
[21] 'Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland, by T.
Crofton Croker; London, 1862,' p. 22.--Compare also 'Hans mein Igel,' in
Grimm's Kinder und Hausmaerchen.
[22] 'Deutsche Sagen, herausgegeben von den Bruedern Grimm; Berlin,
1816;' Vol. I., p. 330.
[23] 'Niederlaendische Sagen, herausgegeben von J. W. Wolf; Leipzig,
1843;' p. 464.
[Illustration]
ROYAL MUSICIANS.
A royal personage being a lover of music possesses many advantages for
attaining proficiency in this art, which are rarely at the command of a
poor musician, however talented he may be. The young prince has from the
beginning the best instruction, excellent instruments, and every
possible assistance in making progress. The most distinguished musicians
consider it an honour to play to him whenever he is disposed to listen
to them. If it affords him pleasure to be a composer, whatever he
produces, even if it is a large orchestral work, he can directly have
performed; and he is thus enabled to ascertain at once whether it sounds
exactly as he contemplated in composing it, and whether the peculiar
instrumental effects in certain bars, which he had aimed at producing,
really answer his expectation. Repeated rehearsals, and revisions of the
score, with the ready assistance of the most experienced professional
musicians in his service, enable him to improve his composition as long
as he likes. And should he be inclined to join the musicians with his
instrument in a performance,--to become for a little while, so to say,
one of them,--he may be sure that they will do everything to help him
through by covering his mistakes and giving him, if possible, the
opportunity of displaying his skill.
What can be more delightful for an influential amateur than to join with
first-rate professional players in practising the classical Quartets of
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven! All this, and more, is at the command of
the royal musician; and the poor striving disciple of the art may have
some excuse for envying him on this account.
However, if the poor disciple is a true artist, he will also duly
appreciate the disadvantage under which the royal musician labours for
attaining proficiency in the art. He will see how necessary it is for
the sake of progress to know exactly the truth about one's own powers
and requirements, and that in this respect even a musical beggar enjoys
an advantage above the King,--or rather, he has it, whether he enjoys it
or not; a candid opinion as to his musical accomplishments is
gratuitously offered him, and it is often a just one. If his music is
bad, he, instead of being deceived with fine words of flattery, will
simply be told: "Leave off! Begone!" If it pleases, he will be rewarded.
But the royal musician gets praise, however his music may be; there is
no distinction made between good and bad.
No wonder, therefore, that history records but few good royal musicians,
although many are known to have occupied themselves with music almost
like professional musicians. As an example of an estimable one may be
mentioned King David "the sweet singer of Israel," who, as a youth,
soothed the evil spirit of Saul by playing upon his _kinnor_; and who
later, as King, admonished his people in the psalms: "Praise ye the
Lord! Praise him with the sound of the trumpet; praise him with the
psaltery and harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him
with stringed instruments and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals.
Praise him upon the high-sounding cymbals."
And in his religious fervour he joined his royal band in a procession
conveying the ark. On this occasion "David danced before the Lord with
all his might." The band consisted of vocal and instrumental performers.
"And David was clothed with a robe of fine linen, and all the Levites
that bare the ark, and the singers, and Chenaniah, the master of the
song with the singers: David also had upon him an ephod of linen. Thus
all Israel brought up the ark of the covenant of the Lord with shouting
and with sound of the cornet, and with trumpets, and with cymbals,
making a noise with psalteries and harps. And it came to pass, as the
ark of the covenant of the Lord came to the city of David, that Michal,
the daughter of Saul, looking out at a window, saw King David dancing
and playing: and she despised him in her heart." (II. Sam. chap. vi., I.
Chron. chap. xv.) Michal, Saul's daughter, was David's wife;
nevertheless, after the ceremony she upbraided him: "How glorious was
the King of Israel to-day, who uncovered himself in the eyes of the
handmaids, as one of the vain fellows who shamelessly uncovereth
himself!" If the musicians exhibited some vanity, they might, at any
rate, be more easily excused than many of the present day; for it was an
extraordinary honour for them to perform with a King who was certainly a
noble musician, and of whose companionship they could have been proud
even if he had not been a King. Moreover, he was, as is recorded in the
Bible, not only "cunning in playing," but also "a mighty and valiant
man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and
the Lord was with him." There are not many royal musicians of whom thus
much could be said without flattery.
The German common saying--
Wo man singt da lass dich ruhig nieder,
Boese Menschen haben keine Lieder;
is as untenable as Shakespeare's assertion--
The man that has no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
considering that the Italian banditti sing hymns to the Virgin Mary, and
that there are kind-hearted Englishmen who cannot distinguish between
the airs of 'God save the Queen' and the 'Old Hundredth.' Anyhow, it may
be doubted whether certain distinguished royal musicians had really
music in their soul. Take, for instance, the Emperor Nero, who lived
about the middle of the first century of our era. Some statements
transmitted to us, respecting the depravity of this cruel monarch may be
unfounded,--such as that the large conflagration of Rome, which
occurred in his reign, was the work of incendiaries secretly hired by
him, and that he amused himself with looking at the fire from the top of
a high tower, and singing to the accompaniment of the lyre the
destruction of Troy, of which he had read, and which he desired to see
represented in the spectacle before him. Some say that he played on the
bagpipe. His principal instruments, on which he practised assiduously,
were the lyre and the harp. His voice was weak and hoarse; nevertheless,
in contesting with the best singers of his time, he always, of course,
gained the prize. Foreign musicians streamed to Rome to hear him, and to
flatter him. About five thousand of them were successful in so far as
they obtained appointments in his service with high salaries. He
undertook a professional tour through Greece, to perform in public; and
as those of his audience who did not applaud him ran the risk of losing
their life, a brilliant success could not fail to be constantly the
result of his appearance as a musician. The surest means of obtaining
his favour was to praise his voice, to be enraptured by his singing, and
distressed when he took the whim that he could not sing. It gratified
him to be pressingly implored to sing. In short, he did not appreciate
music for the sake of its beauties, but because it appeared to him a
suitable means for flattering his excessive vanity.
Such miserable royal musicians would at the present day, fortunately,
not be tolerated. But a rather harmless vanity like that shown in the
following example is still not uncommon, and may easily be excused, as
it is not incompatible with a good heart.
Joseph Clemens Cajetan, Elector and Archbishop of Cologne, sent in the
year 1720, the following letter to the Jesuit Seminary in Munich. It is
here translated from the German.
"Bonn, July 28th, 1720.
Dear Privy Councillor Rauch!
It may perhaps appear presumptuous that an Ignoramus, who knows
nothing at all about music, ventures to compose. This applies to
me, as I send you herewith eleven Motetts and other pieces, which
I have composed myself. I have achieved this in a strange way,
since I am not acquainted with the notes; nor have I the slightest
understanding respecting the art of music. I am, therefore,
compelled, when anything musical enters my head, to sing it to a
musical composer, and he commits it to paper. However, I must have
a good ear and good taste, because the public, when they hear my
music, always applaud it. The method which I have prescribed to
myself in composing is that of the bees, which extract the honey
from the most beautiful flowers, and mix it together. Thus also I.
Everything I have composed I have taken from only good masters
whose works pleased me. I candidly confess my theft, while others
deny theirs, as they want to appropriate whatever they have taken
from others. No one, therefore, dares to be vexed if he hears old
airs in my compositions; for, as they are beautiful, their
antiquity cannot detract from their value. I have determined to
present this work to the church Sti. Michaelis Archangeli, with the
P. P. Societatis Jesu, wherein my grandparents founded a Seminarium
Musicale; and I desire that this memorial of myself shall be
preserved there for eternity, especially for the reason that I have
composed most of this music in the time of my persecution. The
causes which induced me to compose the several pieces I herewith
add, thus:--
No. 1. Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini;--I made when I had to
suffer the greatest persecution, anno 1706.
No. 2. Ne nobis Domine;--on account of obtained victories.
No. 3. Tempus est;--on leaving the two towns, Ruessel and Valencien,
in gratitude for the many kindnesses which I and my kindred
received from the inhabitants of those towns.
No. 4. Victoria;--after the battle of Belgrade against the Turks,
in 1717.
No. 5. Per hoc vitae spatium;--when I was debating with myself what
pursuit I should follow, whether I should become spiritual or
remain secular.
No. 6. Quare fremuerunt gentes;--for my own consolation at a time
when I was unjustly persecuted to the utmost.
No. 7. Quem vidistis Pastores;--for Christmas.
No. 8. Parce Domine!--at Lent.
No. 9. Maria Mater gratiae;--to the honour of the ever-blessed
Mother of God.
No. 10. When my brother-in-law, the Dauphin, died, anno 1711.
No. 11. On the death of the nephew of the Dauphin and his consort,
in 1712; which composition I request the Seminary to have sung also
for me after my death.
I therefore desire you herewith to deliver the compositions, with
this letter by my own hand, in my name, to the P. Magister Chori,
and at the same time to assure him and the whole Seminary of my
clemency. I attribute all this to Divine Grace which has
enlightened me to accomplish thus much. I also assure you of my
clemency.
JOSEPH CLEMENS."
For this present from the Elector, the Inspector of the Seminary in
Munich, the Jesuit Gregorius Schilger, thanked him in a letter written
in Latin, of which the following is a literal translation:--
"Most Exalted and Serene Prince and Elector! Most
Gracious Lord and Master!
With most humble reverence, I kiss your gracious hand and your most
valuable gift of your musical compositions, which to the great joy
and with feelings of gratitude of us all, were handed to me, with
your gracious letter, by your Serene Highness' Privy Councillor,
Joannes Rauch. For, is it not a great blessing, not only to the
Gregorian Institution of the Munich Seminary, but also to those on
whom devolves the direction and management of it, that you so
graciously remember them, and present them with a musical treasure
so precious!
We, therefore, throw ourselves at the feet of your Serene Highness,
and before the Archipiscopal Pastoral Staff, and express as well
as it is in our power our most dutiful thanks, with every devotion
and reverence, as we are in duty bound to your sovereign clemency
for ever.
This memorial of your highest favour shall be permanently preserved
in the archives of the Elector's church at Munich, to the
everlasting glory of God, to the honour of the Holy Virgin and of
the Holy Archangel Michael, and in memory of your gracious
condescension.
Moreover, we admire the very great merit of the music of your
Serene Highness not only on account of the high position of its
composer, but also on account of its very pleasing artistic effect,
which has astonished every one, when the music had been carefully
examined by all the Gregorian musicians we summoned to try it. We
all--not only I, who consider myself the most insignificant, but
also the Gregorian disciples--we all pray in deep humility that the
kindly blessings of Heaven may for many years support your Serene
Highness in your beneficent functions, for the advantage of the
Church, and for the consolation of all good people, especially also
for the benefit of your dependants, of whom the Gregorian disciples
delight in being the most humble. Permit me to recommend especially
these, together with myself, your most humble servant, in our
deepest reverence, to your most gracious favour and benevolence. We
thus continually pray with bended knees, venturing to hope with the
most implicit confidence that Heaven's blessing will result to us
from the Archipiscopal Mitre and Pastoral Staff, which we humbly
reverence with our kisses.
Your Serene Highness'
Most humble Servant,
GREGORIUS SCHILGER, Soc. Jesu,
Inspector of the St. Gregorian House.
Munich, August 7th, 1720."
There are some touching instances on record of royal personages in
affliction finding relief and consolation in studying music. The last
King of Hanover had the misfortune of being nearly deprived of his
eyesight some time before he came to the throne. As Crown Prince he
published a pamphlet entitled 'Ideas and Reflections on the Properties
of Music,' from which a few short extracts may find a place here, as
they show how soothing a balm this art was to him:--
"From early youth I have striven to make music my own. It has
become to me a companion and comforter through life; it has become
more and more valuable to me the more I learnt to comprehend and
appreciate its boundless exuberance of ideas, its inexhaustible
fulness, the more intimately its whole poetry was interwoven with
my whole being.... By means of music, ideas, feelings, and
historical events, natural phenomena, pictures, scenes of life of
all sorts, are as clearly and intelligibly expressed as by any
language in words; and we are ourselves enabled to express
ourselves in such a manner and to make ourselves understood by
others.... Of all the senses of man, sight and hearing are those by
which most effect is produced upon mind and heart, and which are
consequently the most powerful springs for the moral and rational
feelings, actions, and opinions of men. But Hearing appears to be
the most influential and operative of the two organs; for this
reason, that by inharmonious discordant tones our feelings may be
so shocked, even to their deepest recesses, and so painfully
wounded as to drive us almost beside ourselves; which impression
cannot possibly be produced in us by a bad picture, a dreary
landscape, or a very faulty poem.... I have known persons whose
spirits were broken, and their hearts rent by care, grief, and
affliction. They wandered about, murmuring at their fate, absorbed
in meditation, in vain seeking hope, in vain looking for a way to
escape. But, the excess of their inward pangs needed alleviation;
the heart discovered the means of procuring it: the deep-drawn
sighs of the oppressed bosom were involuntarily converted into
tones of lamentation, and this unconscious effusion was productive
of relief, composure, and courageously calm resignation. Yes,
indeed, it is above all in the gloomy hours of affliction that
Music is a soothing comforter, a sympathizing friend to the
sufferer; it gives expression to the gnawing anguish which rends
the soul, and which it thereby mitigates and softens: it lends a
tear to the stupefaction of grief; it drops mollifying healing
balsam into every wounded heart. Whoever has experienced this
effect himself, or witnessed it in others, will admit with me that
for this fairest service rendered by the art we cannot sufficiently
thank and revere it."
How sad and suggestive are these lines, penned by a royal musician!
Blind people delight in descriptive music depicting scenes which
painters might use as subjects for pictures. By the help of a lively
imagination, the ear to some extent serves also the purpose of the eye.
Thus may be explained the preference given by the Crown Prince to
certain compositions which are by no means of the highest class.
Speaking of Bellini's opera 'Norma,' he remarks: "In the Introduction
there is a most ingenious representation of a country. Commencing with
low tones, it unfolds itself in sombre harmony, and faithfully
reproduces the same impression that the darkness of the thick wood makes
upon the wanderer. Single, sliding, and abrupt notes seem to denote
lighter spots in the dark wood, and thus the first decoration of the
opera, the grove of sacrifice, is appropriately represented. The reader
will certainly be still more struck by the appositeness of this musical
picture, when I assure him that I know a blind person who, when he first
heard this introduction, immediately guessed that it was intended to
represent a scene in a wood."
Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony is, as might be expected, an especial
favourite with him, and he gives a detailed description of its several
movements, prefaced by the exclamation: "How clearly are the daily
occurrences and the individual scenes of rural life presented to the
hearer!"
Neither is it surprising that Haydn's 'Creation,' with its many
descriptive passages, should forcibly and very agreeably appeal to his
imagination. In commenting upon certain beauties in this oratorio, which
he especially admires, he remarks: "Above all, how strikingly has the
composer represented with all the powers of music the moment called
forth by the creative words 'Let there be light!' _and there was light_.
At these words the orchestra discharges itself in a truly electric
manner, so as absolutely to dazzle you. The hearer feels perfectly the
impression which the real occurrence of this adorable miracle of
Almighty power would make upon him; and in this delineation by tones is
exhibited to the sense of mortal man the only possible representation of
that sublime wonder in the most striking and convincing manner."
It not unfrequently happens to a musical composer that when a new idea
occurs to him while he is extemporizing, it appears to him at the first
moment more beautiful than he finds it to be on reconsideration. The
Prince, who enjoyed extemporizing on the pianoforte, kept in his service
a pianist, whose business it was to write down his inventions, which he
played repeatedly to the pianist to enable him to sketch at once as
faithfully as possible the chief ideas and modulations. These sketches
the pianist, who was a talented musician, had to take home in order to
work them out carefully according to the rules of musical composition.
Having accomplished his task, he attended at the palace with the
manuscript; and now it was his turn to play the new piece to his royal
master. But, however anxious he had been to preserve intact the original
ideas, he generally learnt to his concern that the music possessed no
longer those beauties which had been dictated to him.
Royal musicians who have studied Thorough Bass are sometimes formidable
critics. At any rate, it would appear so from some musical criticisms of
Frederick II., and of his sister the Princess Amalia. Frederick II.
(Frederick the Great) King of Prussia (born 1712, died 1786) was a
composer as well as a virtuoso on the flute. He regularly practised his
instrument daily. In earlier life it was his habit to play the scales
every morning as soon as he had risen from his bed; and he often
performed in the evening five concertos on the flute, which his royal
orchestra had to accompany. In composing he wrote down only the melody,
and he indicated with it in words how the bass and the other parts
should be contrived; for instance,--"Here the bass shall be in
Quavers;"--"Here the violins shall play alone," etc. These directions he
gave to his Kapellmeister Agricola, who then completed the score.
The musical pursuits of Frederick II. are interesting, but are too well
known to be here circumstantially recorded. Suffice it to mention his
singular behaviour on the occasion of the performance of Graun's 'Te
Deum,' after the termination of the Seven Years' War, in 1763. The
orchestra and singers who had assembled in the royal palace at
Charlottenburg punctually at the time at which they had been ordered to
appear, found to their surprise that there was no audience assembling.
After having waited for about half an hour in suspense, wondering
whether the performance of the 'Te Deum' was to take place, or whether
they had been summoned by inadvertence, they observed a side door being
opened at the end of the hall opposite to them, through which the King
entered quite alone, without any attendance. He sat down on a chair in a
corner, and made a sign to them to commence. At some of the full
choruses, when all the voices united, he held his hands before his eyes
to hide his tears. Several of the musicians who saw him became so much
affected that the tears rolled down their cheeks while they played. At
the end of the performance the King thanked them by a slight inclination
of his head, and retired through the side door through which he had
entered.
This noble royal musician was, however, so prepossessed by the
compositions of Graun, that hardly any composer, but such as wrote in
Graun's style, had a chance of finding favour with him. Kirnberger, the
celebrated theorist, in vain endeavoured to insinuate himself with the
King by submitting to "His Majesty's approval" a new treatise of his on
Thorough Bass. The treatise was soon returned to him with the following
letter:--
"His Royal Majesty of Prussia, etc., our most gracious Lord, cannot
persuade himself that the announced work of the Princely
Chamber-musician Kirnberger, in Berlin, contains anything new, or
particularly useful for the art of music, or for musical
composition, considering that Thorough Bass was already brought to
a certain perfection many years ago. This is, therefore, not to be
withheld from the said Kirnberger, in reply to his solicitation of
the day before yesterday.
FRIEDERICH.
Potsdam, February 25th, 1781."
The Princess Amalia, a pupil of Kirnberger, was a great upholder of the
rules of Thorough Bass, and a sharp critic. As Gluck did not care much
about many of those dry rules, it is perhaps not surprising that the
Princess Amalia did not care much about Gluck. What she thought of him
she has expressed forcibly enough in the following extract from a letter
to Kirnberger, who had sent her the opera 'Iphigenia in Tauris':--
"Mr. Gluck will, in my opinion, never pass for a clever man in musical
composition. He has, firstly, not the least invention; secondly, a bad,
miserable melody; and thirdly, no accent, no expression,--it is all
alike. He is very different from Graun and Hasse, but very similar
to.... The introductory piece ought to be a kind of overture; but the
good man does not like Imitations, and he is right, for they require
labour. However, he is more fond of Transposition. This is not
altogether objectionable; for, if a bar is often repeated, the hearer
will all the more easily remember it; but Gluck appears to transpose the
same idea from want of a new one. Finally, regarded in its entirety, the
opera is very miserable. Now, this is in the new taste which has a great
many adherents. However, I thank you for having sent it me. Through the
faults of others one learns to know one's own. Be so kind as to procure
for me the words of the whole opera; but, as regards the musical
notation, I am not yet wise enough to find it beautiful."
If the letters of musicians to princes are often sadly devoid of
sincerity, those of princes to musicians possess generally at least the
negative merit of not containing intentional misrepresentations, since
a prince has seldom a motive for disguising his likes and dislikes in
music. Whether the estimable Kapellmeister Schulz had committed the
indiscretion of suggesting to Princess Amalia that she was still capable
of some improvement as a musical composer is uncertain, but appears
probable, to judge from the following letter which she wrote to him
after he had sent her the manuscript of his choruses to 'Athalia,' with
the humble request for permission to dedicate them to her,--or, as he
expressed himself, "to preface the work with the adorable name of so
illustrious a connoisseur."
The reply he received from her is here translated from the German as
literally as possible.
"To the Kapellmeister Schulz in Rheimsberg.
I surmise, Mr. Schulz, that by an oversight you have sent me,
instead of your own work, the musical bungling of a child, since I
cannot discover in it the least scientific art; on the contrary, it
is throughout faulty from beginning to end, in the expression,
sentiment, and meaning of the language as well as in the rhythm.
The _motus contrarius_ has been entirely neglected; there is no
proper harmony; no impressive melody; the interval of the Third is
often entirely omitted; the key is never clearly indicated, so that
one has to guess in what key the music is meant to move. There are
no canonic imitations, not the least trace of counterpoint, but
plenty of consecutive fifths and octaves! And this is to be called
music! May heaven open the eyes of those who possess such a high
conceit of themselves, and enlighten their understanding to make
them comprehend that they are but bunglers and fumblers. I have
heard it said that the work ought to praise the master; now-a-day
everything is reversed and confused, the masters are the only ones
who praise themselves, even if their works are offensive. Enough of
this.
AMALIA.
Berlin, January 31st, 1785."
The amiable and respected Kapellmeister Schulz, in mentioning to an old
friend the contents of this letter, merely added: "All this may be true;
but why tell it me so rudely?"[24]
No doubt the most praiseworthy royal musicians are those who make it
less their object to be accomplished players, composers, or theorists,
than to discover and to assist really talented professional musicians,
and thus to promote the advancement of the art. Prince Louis Ferdinand
of Prussia, who lost his life in the battle of Saalfeld in 1806, at the
age of 34 years, may be noticed as a remarkable exception. He was a
distinguished pianist; a fine composer,--perhaps the best of all the
royal musicians whose compositions have been published or are otherwise
known; and a true patron of the art,--which he showed by his cultivation
of classical music as well as by his kindness to Beethoven, Dussek,
Spohr, and other eminent composers. This is the prince of whom it is
told that Beethoven, on hearing him play, exclaimed with surprise: "Your
Royal Highness does not play like a Prince; you play like a musician!"
As a true patron of music, who in this capacity has been more useful to
the art than if he had composed operas and symphonies, must be mentioned
Rudolph, Archduke of Austria, the pupil of Beethoven. The subjoined
letter by him, translated from the German, speaks for itself:--
"Dear Beethoven,
I shall return to Vienna as early as Tuesday, August 5th, and I
shall then remain in town for several days. I only wish that your
health may permit you to come then to town. In the afternoon, from
four to seven o'clock, I am generally at home.
My brother-in-law, Prince Anton, has written to me already that the
King of Saxony expects your beautiful Mass.
Respecting D----r, I have spoken with our gracious Monarch, and
likewise with Count Dietrichstein. I do not know whether this
recommendation will be of use, as there is to be a competition for
the appointment in question, in which any one wishing to obtain it,
has to prove his fitness. It would be a gratification to me if I
could be useful to that clever man, whom I heard with pleasure
playing the organ last Monday in Baden,--especially as I am
convinced that you would not recommend an unworthy person.
I hope you have written down your Canon, and I pray you, in case it
might be injurious to your health to come to town, not to exert
yourself too soon out of attachment to me.
Your well-wishing
RUDOLPH.[25]
Vienna, July 31st, 1823."
No doubt, there have been in olden time kings who, as history records,
possessed as much skill in music as their best bards or minstrels. If
Alfred the Great could enter and explore the Danish camp under the
disguise of a harper, his harp-playing must have been in the genuine
professional manner of his time, otherwise it would have revealed to the
Danish lovers of music that he was not what he pretended to be.
To become an eminent musician, one requires, besides an
extraordinary talent, much time, freedom from disturbance, and
perseverance,--conditions which are seldom at the command of royal
personages. The middle classes are in this respect the most
favoured,--as they are, in fact, in all intellectual pursuits. When King
Solomon says: "Give me neither poverty nor riches," (Proverbs, Chap.
XXX. v. 8), he speaks rather as a musician, or poet. A king requires
riches as necessarily as a musician requires talent.
[24] 'Tonkuenstler-Lexicon Berlin's, von C. Freiherrn von Ledebur;'
Berlin, 1861; p. 6.
[25] 'Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven, verfasst von A. Schindler;'
Muenster, 1845; p. 141.
[Illustration]
COMPOSERS AND PRACTICAL MEN.
It is sad to think how some of our distinguished musical composers have
had to struggle with poverty, when with a proper attention to business
matters they might easily have been men of independent means. True, to
be what is called a practical man requires a talent very different from
that required by an artist; and an inferior artist may be,--nay, often
is a far more practical man than a superior artist. But a superior
artist is not necessarily devoid of the qualifications which constitute
a clever man of business. To maintain that a highly gifted musical
composer must needs be deficient in common sense as regards money
transactions would be as unwarrantable as to assert that a musician who
understands how to use the art as a milch-cow must necessarily be a bad
musician. His love for the art, and his desire to achieve something
great, not unfrequently animates the true artist to disregard, or even
to sacrifice for its sake, his property, health, and other advantages
which the practical man regards as the real happiness of life.
Whatever the composer produces less as a labour of love than for gain,
by command, according to a plan prescribed to him, and under similar
circumstances, is generally not the best he is capable of accomplishing.
An artist must be allowed to create unfettered the work with which he
feels the greatest inclination to occupy himself. But, if he possesses
no property, he may starve before his work is finished. There are some
painful instances on record of starving musical composers, who, with
their admirable talents, might have saved themselves and others much
trouble, if only they had thought it worth their while to be a little
more practical.
Composers generally receive their worst pay for their best works. Their
best works are generally those which made them celebrated; and when they
have become celebrated, they are often well paid for insignificant or
mediocre productions.
Composers sometimes appear to be much more unpractical than they really
are. This may, for instance, easily be the case with those who strike
out a new path in the art, or who aim at a reform, the disirableness of
which seems questionable to all but themselves. However, occasionally it
happens that an innovation, which is at first unpopular, comes by some
unexpected cause rather suddenly in vogue, or at least finds many
advocates; and in this case the originator of the innovation, who was
regarded as an unpractical man, may attain the reputation of being of a
remarkably practical turn of mind. When Richard Wagner, about thirty
years ago, as a poor and obscure musician in Paris, was arranging
operatic melodies for the cornet-a-piston to save himself from
starvation, his notions about the opera of the future appeared to those
few musicians to whom he communicated them, as a dream which to realize
would be as impossible as it would be undesirable. At the present day he
has many estimable musicians among his ardent admirers; he is honoured
by kings, leads the life of a prince, and probably there are but few
persons who would deny that he deserves to be called a practical man.
Several of our classical composers have shown that they could be shrewd
men of business at periods when the pressure of want, or the desire for
independence, urgently incited them to acquire property. Beethoven on
one or two occasions formed the resolution of making it his special
object to accumulate a sum of money, the possession of which would
enable him to compose without regard to publishers and mercantile
speculations. But the endeavour to carry out this resolution seems to
have been generally of but short duration. In the year 1821, the
music-seller Tobias Haslinger, in Vienna, compiled a tariff in which he
enumerated the different kinds of compositions with the prices he was
willing to pay for them, if Beethoven by signing the tariff would bind
himself to give all his new compositions to Haslinger for publication.
This tariff is so interesting that it shall be inserted here, although
Beethoven, who at first expected from it a golden future, was soon
dissuaded by his friends from entering into any contract of the kind.
INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC.
Symphony for full Orchestra 60-80 ducats.
Overture for full Orchestra 20-30 "
Concerto for Violin with Orchestral
accompaniment 50 "
Octett for different instruments 60 "
Septett, ditto 60 "
Sextett, ditto 60 "
Quintett for 2 Violins, 2 Tenors, and
Violoncello 50 "
Quartett for 2 Violins, 2 Tenors, and
Violoncello 40 "
Trio for Violin, Tenor and Violoncello 40 "
FOR PIANOFORTE.
Concerto for Pianoforte with Orchestral
accompaniment 60 "
Fantasia, ditto 30 "
Rondo, ditto 30 "
Variations, ditto 30 "
Octett for Pianoforte with accompaniment
of other instruments 50 "
Septett, ditto 50 "
Quintett, ditto 60 "
Quartett, ditto 70 "
Trio for Pianoforte, Violin, and Violoncello 50 "
Duett for Pianoforte and Violin 40 "
Duett for Pianoforte and Violoncello 40 "
Duett for Pianoforte _a quatre mains_ 60 "
Grand Sonata for Pianoforte alone 40 "
Sonata for Pianoforte alone 30 "
Fantasia for Pianoforte 30 "
Rondo for Pianoforte 15 "
Variations for Pianoforte with accompaniment 10-20 "
Variations for Pianoforte alone 10-20 "
Six Fugues for Pianoforte alone 30-40 "
Pieces, such as Divertimenti, Airs,
Preludes, Potpourris, Bagatelles,
Adagios, Andantes, Toccatas, Caprices,
etc., for Pianoforte alone, each 10-15 "
VOCAL MUSIC.
Grand Mass 130 "
Smaller Mass 100 "
Grand Oratorio 300 "
Smaller Oratorio 200 "
Graduale 20 "
Offertorium 20 "
Te Deum Laudamus 50 "
Requiem 120 "
Vocal pieces with Orchestral accompaniment 20 "
An Opera Seria 300 "
Six large Songs with Pianoforte accompaniment 20 "
Six smaller Songs, ditto 12 "
A Ballad 15 "[26]
It must be borne in mind that these terms were offered to Beethoven at
the period of his life when he had already published his first eight
symphonies and almost all his famous pianoforte sonatas, and other
works, up to Op. 109, and when he therefore was in the zenith of his
reputation in the eyes of the daily increasing number of lovers of music
who were able to understand his genius. In fact, he afterwards received
higher prices; for instance, the publisher Schott, in Mayence, paid him,
in 1825, for the second Mass (D major) 1000 florins; for the ninth
Symphony, 600 florins; for the Quartett Op. 127, fifty ducats; and for
the Quartett Op. 131, eighty ducats. He was still better remunerated, on
a certain occasion, by the publisher Diabelli, in Vienna, who having
composed a Waltz for the pianoforte, wished Beethoven to write six or
seven variations upon it, for which he offered to give him eighty
ducats. Well, Beethoven sat down to compose seven variations. But, the
longer he wrote, the more new ideas occurred to him, and the seven
variations soon increased to ten, then to twenty, then to twenty-five.
When Diabelli learnt that Beethoven had written twenty-five variations
and was still continuing to add to their number, he became rather
alarmed lest the work should grow too voluminous for practical use.
However, he did not succeed in stopping the composer until after the
thirty-third variation. The entire set was published by Diabelli in
1823, under the title '33 Veraenderungen ueber einen Walzer von A.
Diabelli, von Ludwig van Beethoven, Op. 120.'
What must one think of Beethoven's knowledge of money matters when in a
letter to a friend, in which he laments his reduced circumstances, he
asks for advice how he can obtain "money for a bank-note;" while all he
has to do is to cut off from his bond a coupon, and to have it cashed by
the nearest money-changer.[27] Beethoven, owing to his unpractical
habits, required much money, although he lived but frugally. For
instance, it happened that he had to pay rent for three or four
residences at a time, because he had neglected to give warning at the
old residence when he hired a new one. Fortunately for him, some of his
admirers among men of position and wealth interested themselves about
his personal comfort. In an honourable and delicate way they ensured him
an annual income in addition to the gains accruing to him by the sale of
his works. The result was that he actually left some money at his death.
He died (to use an English expression) worth one thousand pounds.
If the correspondence of some of our most celebrated composers with
their publishers were made known, we should probably find therein
unvarnished statements which would surprise us, inasmuch as they would
reveal disappointments which it is now difficult to reconcile with the
celebrity of those composers. The obstacles which some of our classical
composers have encountered in getting their works printed are very
remarkable. J. S. Bach himself engraved on copper-plates his esteemed
work 'The Art of Fugue;' only thirty copies were struck off, as
sufficient to supply the demand; and, after the death of the old master,
his exceedingly practical son, Emanuel, offered the plates for sale at
the value of the copper plates.[28] It is painful to reflect that some
composers who lived in straitened circumstances obtained little or
nothing for certain of their works which have enriched their publishers.
Franz Schubert had to struggle for his daily bread. When the 'Erl-King'
was sung by his friend Vogl for the first time in public, at a concert
in Vienna in the year 1821, it produced sensation, while other
compositions by Schubert which were performed on the same occasion, met
with a cool reception. Schubert published the 'Erl-King' at his own
expense, with the assistance of some friends. But, as his needy
circumstances soon compelled him to sell the copyright of this song,
which was then but little known, his gain was very small, even if
compared with the profits which some arrangers have derived from
transcribing the song for the pianoforte. Although the conditions which
he proposed to the publishers were always modest, they were generally
rejected as being exorbitant. How cautiously the publishers treated him,
may be seen from a letter which Peters, in Leipzig, wrote to
Huettenbrenner, a friend of Schubert. As this letter is also interesting
inasmuch as it affords a glance into the speculations of a practical man
who makes the art his business, it deserves a place here, although it is
rather long. The translation, which is from the German, is as literal as
possible:--
"Having been extremely busy since I received your letter of the
18th of October, I trust you will excuse the tardiness of my reply.
"I am very much obliged to you for your communication respecting
Herr Schubert. Several of his vocal compositions are favourably
known to me, and give me confidence in your recommendation of this
artist. It will be a great pleasure to me to assist in a wider
diffusion of the works of this composer than the Vienna
music-sellers are capable of effecting. But, before I enter into
any obligation, allow me to give you a little sketch of my business
arrangements.
"At the moment when I commenced my present business I resolved to
distinguish myself advantageously as a publisher, never to print
anything bad, but rather as much as possible to print only the
best. It is impracticable to carry out this plan thoroughly; for I
cannot obtain from the most distinguished artists alone as many
manuscripts as I require. Besides, we publishers are also often
compelled from policy to print many things which I at least would
otherwise not print. Nay, we must publish even many slight works in
order to provide for a certain public; for, if we confined
ourselves to classical works only, we should have a very limited
sphere of business; since, as is well known, the connoisseurs do
not constitute the majority. Nevertheless, I have not been
influenced by desire for gain to patronize the more lucrative but
trashy fashionable trifles; I have always taken care that also the
works for the great majority of the people should never be bad.
Always keeping my favourite aim in view, I have chiefly striven to
issue superior works; and this my endeavour will in future become
more and more apparent, since every year increases the number of my
valuable connections, which my financial resources permit me to
maintain.
"These observations lead me to mention two obstacles which often
frustrate my plan. The first is want of time, which almost
continually curbs me. In order to obtain as many good works as
possible, I must seek after connections with good artists, and I
must strengthen these connections not only by endeavouring to
satisfy the artists, but also by proving myself a publisher always
ready at their service,--a mutual understanding which is convenient
to both parties. My connection with most of those of my authors who
are valuable to me,--as for instance, Spohr, Romberg, Hummel,
etc.,--has grown into a friendly relation. I am, therefore, doubly
compelled to accept all that such friends and good artists send me,
although there is often much among it of which I know at once that
I shall gain nothing by it. These obligations take up much of my
time, not only because those artists give me constant occupation,
but also because I require leisure for examining such works of
other authors as I receive unexpectedly, as is the case with the
present ones. Thus, the time remaining to me is seldom sufficient
to enable me to undertake the publication of more works than I have
in hand; and I am continually prevented forming new connections
with composers from want of time.
"The second obstacle which renders a new connection difficult, and
which proceeds from the facts above stated, is the novelty, and the
name of a young composer unknown in my sphere of business. Very
often I am reproached with not making known the works of new
composers, and that a new composer cannot become known if the
publishers do not undertake the publication of his works. This
reproach is, however, quite undeserved as far as I am concerned;
for I cannot do everything, and must keep to a fixed plan in order
to succeed. My plan is to obtain the works of artists who are
already celebrated. True, I print many other works besides; but if
I can obtain enough of those, I must leave to other publishers the
introduction to the public of new composers. These publishers are
also able to do something, and many are glad to engage new
composers, because they fear to pay the sums demanded by older and
more valuable artists. But as soon as the new composer has obtained
a name, and his works are known as being good, then I am his man;
and then the publication of his works accords with my plan, which
is calculated more with regard to honour than to gain. I will then
rather pay a high price for his works than procure them in the
beginning on low terms.
"You see, therefore, that it is difficult for me to meet at once
your proposal respecting Herr Schubert, especially as my time is so
much taken up. However, my opinion of him makes me reluctant to
disregard altogether the wish of this young artist. As a middle
course, I would, therefore, propose that Herr Schubert should send
me some of his works which he desires to have printed, so that I
may examine them; for, without having previously seen the
manuscript, I accept nothing from a young composer who is but
little known. If a great and well-known artist produces something
bad, the blame falls upon him, because his name is my guarantee;
but if I bring out something by a new artist which is not liked,
the blame falls upon me; for, who compels me to print a composition
of the merit of which I am not convinced? Here the name of the
composer is no protection to me. Herr Schubert may be sure that in
trusting his manuscripts to me, he places them in safe hands; there
will be no misuse made of them. In case that I find them
satisfactory, I shall retain of them as many as I find convenient;
on the other hand, Herr Schubert must not feel hurt if I do not
like one or other piece. I shall be quite candid, for candour is
the surest way to lead to a right understanding.
"Furthermore, I must beg him to forward to me only his most
successful works. True, he will not think of publishing anything
which he does not consider a successful production. Be this as it
may, a composer is always more successful with one work than with
another; and I must have the best. I say I must have the best; not
for the sake of gain, but for the sake of my reputation, when I
introduce a composer to my public, which is very extensive. I have
been very painstaking to make my establishment as complete as
possible, and I now experience from many quarters the recompense
that my firm enjoys in an extraordinary degree the confidence of
others. People expect from me the publication of many good works;
and if I bring out a new author, they soon give him their
confidence, believing that he must be good because I had taken
notice of him. No doubt, there have been mistakes; but I am
becoming more and more cautious, in order that I may always ensure
and strengthen my reputation, which to acquire I have taken so much
trouble. For this reason I insist upon a new author giving me his
best, in order that I may recommend him properly from the
beginning, my recommendation being justified. Besides, the first
impression often opens the road to the whole future; wherefore, to
composers just beginning, the good advice to proceed with the
publication of their works as cautiously as possible, cannot be too
often repeated. They may venture much, but should have only little
printed until their reputation is established.
"Spohr has hitherto brought out only 58 works; Andreas Romberg, 66;
Bernhard Romberg, 38; while now many other artists who are much
younger have already had printed above a hundred. Those well-known
composers have written much more, which, however, they thought
advisable to withhold from publication. If, by way of
contradiction, you point out to me the fertile, and nevertheless
valuable Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, etc., I declare that such men
are rare masters whom we ought certainly to regard as models, but
that experience must first teach us whether the young aspirant is
similarly gifted. Moreover, many of the earlier compositions of
Mozart have never been printed.
"Now, have the kindness to confer with Herr Schubert upon my
communication to you, and decide what is further to be done. As
regards the terms, I beg you to inform me of them, because it is
disagreeable to my feelings to make an offer for an intellectual
production. Most likely there will not be any difficulty about
settling the conditions. The perseverance with which my authors
stick to me, sufficiently shows that they do well with me; this I
can assert of myself to my own praise. Besides, the conditions of a
young artist cannot be so high that they could not easily be
conceded to. I believe that, as you intimate, of a new work by Herr
Schubert, perhaps 300 copies might be sold in Vienna alone. But
then it must be printed in Vienna. I do not think that I should
sell there 100 copies, although I am in connection with all the
music-sellers of that town. You will understand this quite well,
and I need not explain the cause, but you may believe me that it is
so; experience confirms it, and the exceptions are rare indeed.
I remain, with high esteem, etc.,
B. V. PETERS.
Leipzig, November 14th, 1822."
"Should Herr Schubert send me vocal compositions, I should prefer
songs, each with a name, like Beethoven's 'Adelaide,' or others of
the kind. There are so many songs now published that no sufficient
attention is given to them if they have no names."[29]
During the years 1826-28, Schubert had still trouble in getting his
compositions printed. This is evident from the tone of the replies to
his solicitations as well as from the conditions demanded by the
publishers. Probst, in Leipzig, in a letter to Schubert, dated August
26th, 1826, remarks:--"It was, no doubt, an honour to me, which I
appreciate, to make your acquaintance through your letter of the 12th
instant; and thanking you heartily for your confidence in me, I am quite
willing to contribute, as far as lies in my power, to the spread of your
reputation as an artist. I must, however, candidly confess that the
peculiar direction of your intellectual productions, which often shows
genius, but which is also sometimes rather strange, is not yet
sufficiently and generally understood by our public. I, therefore, pray
you to take this kindly into consideration when you send me manuscripts.
A selection of songs, and pianoforte compositions for two or four hands,
which are not difficult, and which are pleasant and easily
comprehensible, would appear to me suitable for attaining your aim and
my wish. When the way has been once opened, anything will do; but, in
the beginning one must in some measure comply with the public taste,"
etc.
In another letter to Schubert, by the same publisher, written in 1827,
he says: "However much pleasure it would give me to incorporate your
name in my catalogue, I must for the present renounce it, as I am
overwhelmed with work owing to the publication of Kalkbrenner's
_Oeuvres completes_. I also confess that the honorarium of eighty
florins[30] for each manuscript seems to me rather high terms. I keep
the works at your disposal, and remain," etc.
A year later, in 1828, he writes more encouragingly: "I have been
sincerely grieved that a difference in our opinions, before my journey
to Vienna, frustrated your esteemed application for the publication of
your compositions through my firm.... Have, therefore, the kindness when
you have completed something which is a success, to send it
here--especially songs, ballads, romances, which, without being devoid
of originality, are easily comprehensible; also some pianoforte pieces
for two performers, written in the same style.... As regards the
honorarium, we shall readily come to an agreement, if you will only
treat with me on a moderate scale; and you will find me always in these
matters reasonable, provided the works are so that I can be pleased with
them. The prices of the Vienna publishers might here fairly serve as a
guide. Herr Laehne would pay you your honorarium in proper time
punctually. Moreover, I must beg you to examine beforehand carefully the
works which you intend me to have, and not to show them first to the
Vienna publishers. Such business transactions must remain entirely
between ourselves. I give you my solemn word that you shall never repent
it if you favour me with your friendly confidence, and if, by selecting
only such compositions for me in which you have been successful, you
afford me the opportunity of exerting myself for the sake of your
reputation."
Breitkopf and Haertel, the famous publishers in Leipzig, in a letter to
Schubert, dated September 7th, 1826, cautiously suggest: "We reply with
grateful thanks to your kind intention of sending us some compositions
for publication, and we assure you that it would give us much pleasure
to enter into a mutually advantageous business relation with you. But as
we are yet quite unacquainted with the mercantile result of your
compositions, and as we, therefore, cannot meet you by offering you a
fixed pecuniary remuneration,--which the publisher can only fix and
allow after the success of the work,--we must leave it to you whether
you will make an attempt to form a connection with us which may perhaps
be durable, and whether in order to facilitate this attempt you will be
satisfied with a certain number of copies as remuneration for the first
work, or works, which you may send us. We have no doubt that you will
agree to the proposal, since with you as well as with us the object is
less the publication of a single work, than the introduction to a
continued connection. In this case we propose that you should send us
first a few pianoforte pieces for one performer or for two. Should our
hope of a good result be realized, so that we may be enabled to offer
you for the subsequent works a proper remuneration in money, it will be
a pleasure to us to render thereby your connection with us agreeable to
you.
We remain, with the highest esteem, etc.,
BREITKOPF AND HAeRTEL."[31]
Somewhat later, when Schubert had become a little better known, he
received more favourable replies. Schott, in Mayence, offered to publish
several of his works, and to pay for them. In a letter dated April 28th,
1828, Schott, however, declined to accept the trio in E-flat major,
which Schubert had mentioned in his list of finished manuscripts: "The
trio," Schott remarks, "is probably large; and as we have recently
brought out several trios, we must postpone to a later period the
publication of compositions of this kind to avoid disadvantages for our
business; and the delay would be against your interest." This trio (Op.
100) was afterwards bought by Probst, in Leipzig, for about two pounds,
paid with a grumble, and with the insulting remark: "In any case, I hope
the Trio in question is not the 'Fantasia' which was performed on the
5th of February in Herr Slawick's concert at the Kaernthnerthor theatre;
for that composition was unfavourably criticized in the Leipzig Musical
Gazette, No. XIV., page 223."
Again, in a letter from Schott, dated October 30th, 1828, and received
by Schubert about three weeks before his death, he is told among other
business matters: "We shall soon print your Quintett;[32] but we must
remark that the price put on this little work is too high. The
pianoforte part takes up only six printed pages, and we surmise it to be
by an oversight that we are asked to pay sixty florins[33] for it. We
offer you thirty florins for it.... The pianoforte piece, Op. 101,
certainly would not be too dear for us; but its unsuitableness for our
sale in France is very vexatious. Should you compose occasionally
something less difficult and yet brilliant, and also in an easy key,
this you may send us, if you please, without further communication."[34]
Under these circumstances it is no wonder that after the death of
Schubert there should have been some difficulty in defraying the
expenses of his burial, which amounted to about seven pounds; while his
effects, consisting of his dress, a bed, and some old music-books, were
together valued at six pounds six shillings.
Mozart's pecuniary circumstances were scarcely more cheerful than
Schubert's, considering how highly Mozart was appreciated by many during
the last few years of his life. Having in his youth been guided by his
prudent father to be careful in the management of his gains and
expenses, he always wished to be careful, and sometimes troubled himself
much about being practical, but evidently found it very difficult. When
the publisher Hofmeister, in Leipzig, said to him: "Mozart, you must
make concessions to the popular taste, or I cannot buy anything more
from you for publication!" Mozart replied: "Well, I must write what I
think good, though I should starve." Some music-sellers, in an
inexplicable way, succeeded in procuring manuscripts of his, for which
they did not pay him anything.[35] His famous opera, 'Die Zauberfloete,'
he wrote with the object of benefiting his friend, the embarrassed
theatrical manager Schikaneder; and the statement of some writers, that
Mozart gained only fifty thalers (about L7 10s.) by this opera, may
therefore be correct. The King of Prussia offered him an appointment as
Kapellmeister in Berlin, with a salary of 3,000 thalers. Mozart
solicited an audience of his master, the Emperor Joseph II. and asked
for his dismission. "Dear Mozart, you will leave me?" said the emperor.
"No, your Majesty!" replied Mozart, touched by the hearty tone in which
the Emperor spoke to him: "No, your Majesty, I remain!"
A friend, to whom Mozart soon afterwards related this occurrence, said:
"But why did you not seize this favourable opportunity to ask for a
fixed income?"
Mozart replied: "How could I at that moment think of money matters!"
He subsequently received an annual pay of 800 florins, with the title of
Kapellmeister in the service of the Emperor. At his death, he left a
debt of 3,000 florins. The copyright of 'La Clemenza di Tito' was
offered to Breitkopf, in Leipzig, for sixteen ducats. Breitkopf having
declined the opera, it was bought by his apprentice, A. Boehme, who with
it laid the foundation of his prosperous publishing-house in Hamburg.
It must be admitted that among our modern composers several very
practical men could be pointed out. Some, who are the offspring of rich
bankers, may have inherited business-like habits in a natural course;
this appears all the more probable since they belong to a race which is
known to possess extraordinary talent for money-making.
It has long been a favourite project with distinguished musicians on the
continent to visit England, to be there extremely practical, in order to
accumulate as much money as they could in the shortest time possible,
and then to retire to the fatherland to be happy ever after. Possibly
the rumour concerning Handel's property, and his bequests, to which also
Mattheson alludes in his annotations to the 'Memoirs of the Life of
Handel,'[36] may have contributed to entice other continental musicians
to try to make their fortune in England; and many have shown common
sense enough in this attempt. Handel in London generally received for
the copyright of an oratorio twenty guineas. The wealthy publisher,
Walsh, gained L1500 by the publication of the opera 'Rinaldo,' a fact
which elicited from Handel the remark: "My dear sir, it is only right
that we should be upon an equal footing; _you_ shall compose the next
opera, and _I_ will sell it." At any rate, so the story goes. Handel,
after having lost, by his enterprise as manager of the Haymarket
Theatre, all the money he had gained during a residence in England of
about twenty-four years, which amounted to about L10,000, commenced
anew, exerting himself as a practical man in another and more successful
way. Handel died "worth" upwards of twenty thousand pounds.
Music-printing in the eighteenth century was not in the flourishing
state which it has now attained. The composers had other sources of
profit besides the sale of their manuscripts,--such as public
performances, dedications of works to wealthy patrons of the art, or by
having an appointment, with a fixed salary, in the service of a
sovereign. To judge correctly of the capacity for business of a
distinguished musician, it is necessary to take into consideration the
usages of his time.
Haydn, on his first visit to London, in 1791, was engaged by Salomon for
L500, for which sum he had to compose six symphonies, and personally to
direct the performance of them at the concerts; and to resign the
copyright of those six symphonies. Furthermore, L200 were guaranteed to
him by Salomon for a benefit concert.
That Rossini could be practical in England, is evident from the
following conversation of this composer with F. Hiller. It is given here
in translation from the German. By way of preface to it, may be
mentioned that Rossini, in Italy, received for an opera from twenty to
thirty pounds. However, for the 'Barber of Seville' he received about
eighty pounds.
_Hiller._ "Considering, Maestro, that you have grown up among singers
and actors, and that you possessed a fine voice, it seems almost
singular that you did not think of becoming an operatic singer."
_Rossini._ "I had no other intention, dear sir; but I also wished to
learn my art more thoroughly than most of the singers with whom I came
into contact at that time had learnt it. This was easy enough; at an
early period I already officiated as _Maestro al Cembalo_; then there
came the period when the mutation of my voice interfered with my
singing; my attempts at composition found favourable reception; and thus
I fell almost accidentally into the career of the composer. I adhered to
it, although I had from the beginning the opportunity of observing how
incomparably better the singers are rewarded than we are."
_Hiller._ "Heaven knows! Beethoven has hardly received for all his works
as much as Cruvelli obtains annually at the Grand Opera."
_Rossini._ "It was not quite so bad at that time as it is now; but that
makes no difference. When the composer received fifty ducats, the singer
received a thousand. I confess that I never could help feeling vexed at
this injustice, and often have I given vent to my dissatisfaction in the
presence of the singers. You ignorant fellows, I said, you cannot sing
even so well as I can, and you gain more in one evening than I am paid
for a whole score! But, what was the use of talking thus. Neither do the
German composers get rich."
_Hiller._ "Certainly not, Maestro! But they obtain appointments which,
though they are not lucrative, ensure the most important necessities of
life. No German composer has ever gained so much by his operas that he
could live upon the proceeds. However, it appears to be now better in
this respect than it formerly was."
_Rossini._ "Incomparably better. The former Italian opera composers
could write Heaven knows how many operas, and had nevertheless to
struggle to make both ends meet. I was scarcely better off until I
obtained an appointment with Barbaja."[37]
_Hiller._ "Tancredi was the first of your operas which proved a decided
hit; how much did you get for it, Maestro?"
_Rossini._ "Five hundred francs. And when I composed my last Italian
opera, 'Semiramide,' and insisted upon having five thousand francs for
it, not only the theatrical manager, but the whole public regarded me as
a sort of highwayman."
_Hiller._ "You have the consolation of knowing that singers, managers,
and publishers have become rich through you."
_Rossini._ "A fine consolation! Except during my stay in England, I have
never gained by my art so much that I could lay anything by; and the
money which I made in London, I did not make as a composer, but as an
accompanist."
_Hiller._ "Yet it was because you were a celebrated composer."
_Rossini._ "That is what my friends said, to persuade me to take to the
new occupation. It may have been a prejudice with me, but I had a
dislike to being paid for accompanying on the pianoforte, and I have
submitted to it nowhere but in London. However, they were determined to
see my nose, and to hear my wife. I had fixed for our co-operation at
musical evenings the rather high terms of L50. We attended at about
sixty of such evenings, and the pecuniary result was certainly worth the
trouble. Moreover, in London the musicians will do anything to make
money. I have witnessed there, queer doings."
_Hiller._ "There one scarcely trusts one's eyes, still less one's ears."
_Rossini._ "Thus, for instance, when I accepted my first engagement as
accompanist at such a Soiree, I was told that Puzzi, the celebrated
virtuoso on the horn, and Dragonetti, the celebrated double-bass player,
would also be present. I thought they would play solo, but this was far
from being the case, they had only been engaged to assist me in
accompanying. Have you then written parts for all these pieces? I
asked--'Oh, dear, no!' they replied, 'but we get well paid, and so we
accompany with whatever comes into our head.' These attempts at
improvised instrumental performances appeared to me, however, too
venturesome; I therefore begged Dragonetti to restrict himself to
twanging occasionally some Pizzicatos, whenever I should wink my eyes to
him; and I suggested to Puzzi to fall in with his horn whenever a
cadence occurred, which he, as a good musician, easily accomplished.
Thus we went through it without very serious accidents, and everyone was
contented."
_Hiller._ "That is capital! But the English, it appears to me, have made
great progress in regard to music. They have at present much good music
well performed and attentively listened to; that is, in public concerts.
In the drawing-room, music is still painfully maltreated. Many persons
without the least musical talent parade themselves with an incredible
boldness, and give instruction in things of which they know little or
nothing."
_Rossini._ "I knew in London a certain X., who as teacher of the
pianoforte had amassed a large property. All he knew of music, however,
was that he blew the flute a little, and that quite miserably. Another,
who was greatly in demand as a teacher of singing, did not know even the
notes. He kept his own accompanist, whose business it was first to
hammer those pieces into his master, and afterwards to accompany him
when he taught the pieces to the pupils. This singer possessed however
a nice voice."[38]
For the sake of truth some business letters written by distinguished
German composers to English publishers must be noticed here, although
they redound to the honour of the writers as little as do some of the
letters of the German publishers just cited. Not that they reveal a
deficiency in common sense as regards business transactions; they
exhibit the writers as rather too practical. Among the letters which the
music-seller W. Forster, in London, received from Haydn, with whom he
kept up a correspondence about the purchase of manuscripts for
publication in England, the following, which was originally written in
German, is selected as a characteristic specimen. It dates from the year
1788, and was published by S. A. Forster, a son of the music-seller, in
his account of the correspondence which his father had with Haydn.
"My dear Mr. Forster,
Do not be annoyed with me that on my account you have had trouble
with Mr. Longman. I will satisfy you another time on that point. It
is not my fault, but that of the usurer Artaria. So much I promise
you that so long as I live, neither Artaria nor Longman shall
receive anything from me or through me. I am too honourable and
upright to annoy or injure you. So much, however, you will yourself
plainly understand that whoever will have six new pieces from me
must give me more than twenty guineas. I did, in fact, some time
ago conclude a contract with somebody who pays me for every six
pieces one hundred guineas and more. Another time I will write you
more; meanwhile I am with all respect,
Your obedient servant,
JOSEPH HAYDN."
Still less creditable to the writer are the following extracts from
letters addressed by Beethoven to the publisher, R. Birchall, of London,
who had bought the copyright for Great Britain and Ireland of four
works by Beethoven, viz.:--The pianoforte arrangement of the Battle
Symphony, Op. 91; the pianoforte arrangement of the A major Symphony,
Op. 92; the Sonata for pianoforte and violin in G major, Op. 96; and the
B-flat major Trio for pianoforte, violin, and violoncello, Op. 97. The
letters were originally written in English. They are too long for entire
insertion here. To render the extracts fully comprehensible, it is
necessary to state that Beethoven, after having received from Birchall
the sum agreed upon for those works, unexpectedly demanded five pounds
for the copying and postage of them; and when Birchall had shown him so
much consideration as to satisfy him also on this point, Beethoven wrote
to him as follows:--
"Vienna, October 1st, 1816.
"My dear Sir,
I have duly received the L5, and thought previously you would not
increase the number of Englishmen neglecting their word and honour,
as I had the misfortune of meeting with two of this sort. In reply
to the other topics of your favour, I have no objection to write
variations according to your plan, and I hope you will not find L30
too much; the accompaniment will be a flute, or violin, or a
violoncello; you'll either decide it when you send me the
approbation of the price, or you'll leave it to me.... Concerning
the expenses of copying and packing, it is not possible to fix them
beforehand; they are at any rate not considerable, and you'll
please to consider that you have to deal with a man of honour, who
will not charge one sixpence more than he is charged himself....
With all the new works which you will have of me, or which I offer
you, it rests with you to name the day of their publication at your
own choice. I entreat you to honour me as soon as possible with an
answer, having many orders for compositions, and that you may not
be delayed....
Your most humble Servant,
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN."
These remarks of Beethoven elicited the following reply from Mr. C.
Lonsdale, the manager at R. Birchall's.
"London, Nov. 8, 1816.
"Sir,
In answer to yours of the 1st October I am desired by Mr. Birchall
to inform you he is glad to find you are now satisfied respecting
the promise of paying you L5,--in addition to what you before
received according to agreement,--but he did not think you would
have delayed sending the receipt signed, after the receipt of the
130 ducats, merely because you had not received the L5, which
latter sum was not included in the receipt. Till it arrives, Mr.
Birchall cannot at any rate enter into any fresh arrangement, as
his first care will be to secure those pieces he has already paid
for, and see how they answer his purpose as a music-seller; and
without the receipt he cannot prevent any other music-seller from
publishing them. In regard to the airs with variations, the price
of L30, which it is supposed you mean for each, is considerably
more than he could afford to give,--even to have any hopes of
seeing them repay him; if that should be your lowest price, Mr.
Birchall will give up his idea of them altogether.... I am sorry to
say Mr. Birchall's health has been very bad for two or three years
back, which prevents him from attending to business; and as there
are, I fear, but little hopes of his being much better, he is less
anxious respecting making any additions to his catalogue than he
otherwise would have been. He is much obliged to you for the offer
of the Sonata and the Trio; but he begs to decline it for the
reasons before mentioned. Hoping to hear soon respecting the paper
sent for your signature.
I am, Sir,
For R. Birchall, etc.,
C. LONSDALE."
To this reasonable letter Beethoven replies (in English):
"Vienna, Dec. 14th, 1816.
"Dear Sir,
I give you my word of honour that I have signed and delivered the
receipt to the house Fries and Co., some day last August, who, as
they say, have transmitted it to Messrs. Coutts and Co., where
you'll have the goodness to apply. Some error might have taken
place, that instead of Messrs. C. sending it to you they have been
directed to keep it till fetched. Excuse this irregularity, but it
is not my fault, nor had I ever the idea of withholding it from the
circumstance of the L5 not being included. Should the receipt not
come forth at Messrs. C., I am ready to sign any other, and you
shall have it directly with return of post.
If you find variations--in my style--too dear at L30, I will abate
for the sake of your friendship one third, and you have the offer
of such variations, as fixed in our former letters, for L20 each
air.... I anxiously hope your health is improving. Give me leave to
subscribe myself,
Dear Sir,
Your very obedient Servant,
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN."[39]
Beethoven being unacquainted with the English language was obliged to
employ some person to write these letters for him. But, as he signed
them, he must be held answerable for their contents. Had he been able to
read them, he would probably have disapproved of the manner in which his
business transactions were conducted by his interpreter.
During the later years of his life it was a favourite idea with
Beethoven to visit England for the purpose of making money. In the year
1817 he corresponded (in German) with F. Ries, in London, on the
subject, in consequence of an invitation from the Philharmonic Society.
The conditions under which he was willing to accept the invitation he
carefully specified as follows:--
"1. I propose to be in London at the latest during the first half of the
month of January, in 1818.
2. I promise to bring with me two new large symphonies, which shall
become the exclusive property of the Philharmonic Society.
3. The Philharmonic Society pledges itself to pay me for the two
symphonies three hundred guineas, and for my travelling expenses one
hundred guineas. I expect that the journey will cost me much more than
the sum which I ask, because I shall necessarily require a travelling
companion.
4. In order that I may be enabled to occupy myself at once
uninterruptedly with composing those large symphonies, the Philharmonic
Society binds itself to pay 150 guineas of the above sum in advance, so
that I may procure without delay a travelling carriage and other
travelling equipments.
5. The conditions proposed by the Philharmonic Society as regards my
non-appearance in any other public orchestra than its own, about not
conducting the orchestra, and about suchlike matters for the advantage
of the Society, I consent to unreservedly. My feeling of honour would
have dictated them to me as a matter of course.
6. I dare to hope that the Philharmonic Society will oblige me with its
assistance in the preparation and promotion of one benefit concert, or
perhaps more....
7. I must beg that the conditions, or the agreement to the above, shall
be written in the English language, signed by three Directors of the
Philharmonic Society in the name of the Society, and forwarded to me."
Failing health prevented Beethoven from undertaking the journey. The
Philharmonic Society, believing him to be in want, which was far from
being the case, in a delicate way presented him with L100. Indeed,
Beethoven had every reason to feel gratified by the generous attention
shown to him by those Englishmen who were able to appreciate his merits.
In the year 1817, some of his London admirers gave him great pleasure by
sending him a new grand-piano of Broadwood's manufacture; and in 1826,
the kind-hearted Mr. J. A. Stumpff, in London, a German by birth, and a
harp-maker in by no means affluent circumstances, made him a present of
Arnold's edition of Handel's works, in forty volumes folio,--a gift
which was taken to the bedside of the dying composer, and which soothed
his last days of suffering.
Also Haydn received from England touching marks of veneration. Some
instances of homage offered by enthusiastic amateurs, must have caused
him amusement on account of their singularity, if for no better reason.
The worsted-spinner W. Gardiner, of Leicester, forwarded to him a
present of six pairs of cotton stockings in which he had worked the
notation of some popular melodies by Haydn,--such as the air "My mother
bids me bind my hair;" the theme of the Andante in the Surprise
Symphony; the tune of the Hymn "God preserve the Emperor," etc. W.
Gardiner was himself a musical composer, his mode of composing being
that of the Bavarian prince Joseph Clemens, who set about it "like the
bees which extract honey from the most beautiful flowers, and mix it
together."[40] Thus W. Gardiner "composed" a whole oratorio, which he
made up of choruses and airs borrowed from various masters, and more or
less distorted to suit them to their new place. Only the overture was
wanting. He wrote to Beethoven to induce him to compose one for this
oratorio, and offered to pay 100 guineas for it. Beethoven never
answered the letter.[41] Had he been really as greedy of gain as in his
correspondence with Birchall he appears to be, he would probably have
accepted the offer, which was rather liberal. Nevertheless, had he
accepted it, the result would very likely have proved the manufacturer a
more practical man than the composer. Be this as it may, it is quite
comprehensible that to Beethoven an attempt to associate him with
musical jobbery must have been especially repulsive.
Perhaps no opera composer had a better chance of becoming a rich man
than had Carl Maria von Weber. The success of 'Der Freischuetz' was
immense. The fascinating melodies of this opera were sung, played and
whistled everywhere, by musical and unmusical people. It would be
difficult to point out a civilized country in which 'Der Freischuetz' has
not been performed and listened to with rapture. Before the popularity
of the opera was fully established, Weber offered the pianoforte score
to the publisher Schlesinger, in Berlin, for sixty Frederick-d'ors
(L51). Schlesinger thought the demand exorbitant, and offered two
hundred and twenty thalers (L33), which Weber accepted.[42]
Nevertheless, in consequence of the many performances of 'Der
Freischuetz' in various towns on the Continent, from which the composer
derived some pecuniary advantage, the opera proved rather lucrative to
him. Still, it was more remunerative indirectly than directly, inasmuch
as its universal success induced Charles Kemble, the manager of the
Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, to engage Weber to compose 'Oberon,' and
to visit London for the purpose of conducting the new opera. Thus Weber
had an excellent opportunity of exercising his aptitude for business.
How he acquitted himself of the task, may be gathered from his rejecting
at the outset the terms offered by Kemble,--which were L500, and all his
expenses paid,--and proposing his own terms, which, with the help of
some one acquainted with the English language, he had penned as
follows:--
"At my arrival at London I will first of all preside at the piano in six
representations of the 'Freischuetz'; for the first five you will give me
every night a pecuniary compensation of two hundred pounds, and the
sixth as a benefit for me. During this time we will prepare 'Oberon' and
I will preside at the piano also the first six representations at the
same conditions. I must be assured that all this be settled in three
months, otherwise I should claim an adequate indemnification. The music
of 'Oberon' (Partition, and adapted by me for the Piano) is then your
property for Great Britain. The poem and the music are mine for all the
rest of Europe."
According to this proposal Weber would have realized in the course of
three months L2,400. But he soon experienced that one may also be too
practical. His shattered health rendered the journey to England
exceedingly fatiguing, and the trouble, excitement and disappointments
connected with the rehearsals and representations of 'Oberon,' and with
the necessary preparations for his concerts, accelerated his
dissolution. He died in 1826, when he had been about three months in
London, and the proceeds of his toil during the time amounted to about
L1,100, or less than half the sum which he at first demanded from
Kemble.
The musical student, in perusing the master-works in his art, has
continually occasion to admire the careful consideration which the
composers have given to every bar so as to produce great effects by
simple means, interesting variety in unity, thus achieving as nearly as
possible a perfect work of art. Also, their remarks upon their
compositions show how thoughtfully they laboured, considering and
reconsidering every step they took. It is unnecessary to illustrate this
fact by quotations, as instances will probably occur to the reader.
Suffice it to notice a remark by Mozart, which shows how cleverly he
contrived to make concessions to the popular taste, in as far as he
could accomplish this without deterioration to his compositions as works
of art. In a letter to his father, which he wrote from Paris, he thus
describes the performance of a new symphony, which he had been requested
to compose for the _Concert Spirituel_:--
"In the middle of the first Allegro is a passage of which I knew well
that it would please. All the auditors were transported by it, and there
was great applause. As I knew, when I wrote the passage, what its effect
would be, I introduced it once more towards the end of the movement.
Then they demanded a repetition of the entire Allegro. The Andante
pleased also; but especially the last Allegro. As I had been told that
it was the usual custom with the composers here in Paris to commence the
last Allegro of a symphony, like the first, with the full orchestra,
generally in unison, I commenced mine with only the first and second
violins, _piano_ through eight bars. Then came suddenly _forte_.
Consequently, the auditors made first, as I had expected,--hush! and
then the _forte_ surprised them so greatly, that they applauded as a
matter of course."
Is this not thoroughly practical in an artistic point of view?
[Illustration]
[26] 'Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven, verfasst von A. Schindler;'
Muenster, 1845; p. 246.
[27] 'Biographische Notizen ueber L. van Beethoven, von Wegeler und
Ries;' Coblenz, 1838; p. 34.
[28] 'Historisch-Kritische Beitraege zur Aufnahme der Musik, von F. W.
Marpurg.' Vol. II., Berlin, 1756; p. 575.
[29] 'Franz Schubert, von H. Kreiszle von Hellborn;' Wien, 1865, p. 272.
[30] L8.
[31] 'Franz Schubert, von H. Kreiszle von Hellborn;' Wien, 1865; p. 388.
[32] Op. 114.
[33] L6.
[34] 'Franz Schubert, von H. Kreiszle von Hellborn;' Wien, 1865; p. 442.
[35] 'Biographie W. A. Mozart's, von G. N. von Nissen;' Leipzig, 1828,
p. 584.
[36] See above, page 23.
[37] Barbaja, the Impressario of the San Carlo Theatre at Naples.
[38] 'Aus dem Tonleben unserer Zeit, von Ferdinand Hiller; Leipzig,
1868.' Vol. II., p. 22.
[39] 'Jahrbuecher fuer Musikalische Wissenschaft, herausgegeben von F.
Chrysander.' Leipzig, 1863, p. 434.
[40] See above, p. 45.
[41] 'Music and Friends, by William Gardiner.' Vol. III., London, 1853,
p. 378.
[42] 'Carl Maria von Weber, ein Lebensbild,' von Max C. M. von Weber;
Leipzig, 1864. Vol. II., p. 270.
[Illustration]
MUSIC AND MEDICINE.
Music is capable of exercising a favourable influence upon health, but
it may also prove injurious. In order to know how to employ it with good
result in certain illnesses, an exact acquaintance with its various
effects is requisite. First of all, it ought to be borne in mind that
music may serve as a remedy either by directly affecting the mind, or by
acting primarily upon the body. In the former case its influence may be
called psychical; and in the latter, physical.
Considering how much in the cure of certain illnesses depends upon the
spirits of the patient, it will easily be understood that the affecting
power of music deserves special attention. There are illnesses in which
the attainment of a calm state of mind may be a most important condition
for the recovery of the patient,--nay, instances are conceivable in
which with this attainment the illness is already in a great measure
removed. Some persons are much more susceptible of music than others;
but there are few in whose heart it finds not some response, however
slight. Indeed, the beneficial influence of music is almost universally
felt, and is evidenced by examples the authenticity of which is
indisputable. No other art is so capable of easily moving man to tears
of grief, of exciting him in a moment to cheerfulness, of inspiring him
with courage, and of making him forget his real or imaginary troubles
and anxieties. Hence, with almost every nation we find the employment of
music resorted to on occasions of sadness and mourning, at solemn
celebrations and joyful festivities, in warlike exploits, in religious
worship,--in fact, wherever a definite direction of a certain feeling is
especially requisite.
Also the popular stories, of which a selection is given in the present
work, testify to the universally-felt power of music. In many of the
stories miraculous effects are ascribed to music. What stronger proof
can be cited of its intense impression upon the human heart than the
popularity of such conceptions traditionally preserved through
centuries!
But also the direct influence which the cultivation of music may
exercise upon the body is not insignificant, considered medically. Thus,
for instance, singing, if judiciously practised, is conducive to health,
inasmuch as it benefits the lungs and the chest; and the playing on
certain musical instruments is salutary, while on others it is
injurious. Moreover, in combination with dancing, music is likely to
prove in some complaints an efficacious remedy. Of course, everything
depends upon its judicious employment, if it is to serve medically. In
order exactly to ascertain its efficacy it is advisable to examine its
employment as we find it in different nations. Even the most uncivilized
tribes ought not to be ignored in this enquiry, because the dictates of
instinct are often not less suggestive than the speculations of reason.
Nations, or tribes, in a low state of civilization, as there are many
still existing at the present day, have generally so-called
"mystery-men," or "medicine-men," who combine in one person the
avocation of the priest, physician, and musician, and who are also
usually prophets, sorcerers, rain-makers, shrewd advisers,--in short,
men who by their comparatively superior knowledge and skill obtain
considerable influence over their ignorant and superstitious fellow-men.
The most ancient nations historically known were far more advanced in
civilization than these our contemporaries. However, we find with them
traces of the original existence of "mystery-men." With the Greeks,
music, or the art of the Muses, originally comprised, besides the
tone-art, several other arts and sciences; from which it may be
conjectured that the earliest Greek musicians practised also the healing
art like the mystery-men of our time. The ancient Egyptians, at an
early period, had attained a considerably higher stage of development in
the cultivation of music than many nations of the present day have
achieved. This assertion will not appear exaggerated to any musician who
has carefully examined the ancient representations of the
variously-constructed instruments which were in use with the Egyptians,
centuries before our Christian era. Equally suggestive is a statement of
Herodotus, indicating the progress which the Egyptians had made in the
healing art, nearly 500 years before our era. He remarks (Euterpe 84):
"The art of medicine is thus divided amongst them: each physician
applies himself to one disease only, and not more. All places abound in
physicians; some physicians are for the eyes, others for the head,
others for the teeth, others for the parts about the belly, and others
for internal disorders." Such a high degree of cultivation of an art or
science, in which each professor occupies himself especially with a
particular branch in order to achieve the utmost possible perfection in
it, is known at the present day only among the most civilized nations.
If, therefore, we desire to obtain an accurate idea of the primitive
treatment of diseases by means of music, a reference to the usages of
some rude tribes in uncivilized lands will be the proper step for
acquiring the information.
Considering that the mystery-men alluded to are, as a rule, mentally the
most gifted and the most crafty personages of the tribe to which they
belong, and that they are especially familiar with the views,
inclinations, customs, and weaknesses of their people, a detailed
account of the social position and doings of these extraordinary
individuals in different parts of the world might be very interesting.
It would, however, be out of place here to describe them further than as
they appear in their medical and musical capacities.
The mystery-men of the North American Indians, or the "medicine-men," as
they are more usually called, are acquainted with the medicinal virtues
of a great many different kinds of roots and herbs, of which they make
use in their prescriptions, and for which they are paid. Some of them
enjoy a high reputation on account of their skill; and in general the
medicine-man takes a high position among the people. Only when the
common remedies of roots and herbs have proved unsuccessful does he
resort to "medicine" or mystery. He arrays himself in a most grotesque
dress, and provides himself with a rattle, commonly made of a gourd,
which is hollowed and partly filled with pebbles. Thus equipped, he
approaches his dying patient to cure him by a charm. He dances about
him, singing songs of incantation, and producing a frightful noise by
shaking his rattle. Catlin records a scene of an attempted cure of this
description which he himself witnessed, as follows: "Several hundred
spectators, including Indians and traders, were assembled round the
dying man, when it was announced that the medicine-man was coming. We
were required to form a ring, leaving a space of some thirty or forty
feet in diameter around the dying man, in which the doctor would perform
his wonderful operations; and a space was also opened to allow him free
room to pass through the crowd without touching any one.... He
approached the ring with his body in a crouching position, with a slow
and tilting step. His body and head were entirely covered with the skin
of a yellow bear, the head of which--his own head being inside of
it--served as a mask; the huge claws of which also were dangling on his
wrists and ankles. In one hand he shook a frightful rattle, and in the
other he brandished his medicine-spear, or magic wand; to the rattling
din and discord of all of which he added the wild and startling jumps
and yelps of the Indian, and the horrid and appalling grunts, snarls,
and growls of the grizzly bear, in ejaculatory and gutteral incantations
to the Good and Bad Spirits, in behalf of his patient, who was rolling
and groaning in the agonies of death, whilst he was dancing around him,
jumping over him, and pawing him about, and rolling him in every
direction. In this wise the strange operation proceeded for half an hour
to the surprise of a numerous and death-like silent audience, until the
man died; and the medicine-man danced off to his quarters, and packed
up, tied and secured from the sight of the world his mystery dress and
equipments."[43] Should the exhausted patient unaccountably recover
after such a ceremony, the lucky medicine-man will be seen for several
days after the event on the top of a wigwam, extending his right arm,
waving it to the gaping multitude, and boasting of his skill.
With the Indian tribes in Columbia and Vancouver Island the
medicine-man, although he may become of great importance if he is
clever, is liable to be put to death if he fails to cure his patient; it
being presumed that he possesses the power, but not the wish, to cure. A
strange procedure of one of these fellows in trying to cure a female who
lay dangerously ill, was witnessed by an Englishman, who has given a
circumstantial description of it, from which the following extract will
suffice:--
"Towards night the doctor came, bringing with him his own and another
family to assist in the ceremony. After they had eaten supper, the
centre of the lodge was cleared and fresh sand strewed upon it. A bright
fire of dry wood was then kindled, and a brilliant light kept up by
occasionally throwing oil upon it. I considered this a species of
incense offered, as the same light would have been produced, if desired,
by a quantity of pitch-knots which were lying in the corner. The
patient, well wrapped in blankets, was laid on her back, with her head a
little elevated, and her hands crossed on her breast. The doctor knelt
at her feet, and commenced singing a song, the subject of which was an
address to the dead, asking them why they had come to take his friend
and mother, and begged them to go away and leave her. The rest of the
people then sung the chorus in a low, mournful chant, keeping time by
knocking on the roof with long wands they held.... As the performance
proceeded, the doctor became more and more excited, singing loudly and
violently, with great gesticulation, and occasionally making passes with
his hand over the face and person of the patient, similar to those made
by mesmeric manipulators."[44]
Likewise, in a cure effected in the case of a sick lad of the Wallawalla
Indians, Columbia river, which Mr. Drayton witnessed, there appears to
have been a kind of mesmerism used in combination with music. This case
is also noteworthy inasmuch as it shows that the Indians have female
physicians. The lad was lying on his back in a lodge and appeared to be
in a dying state. Over him stood an old haggard-looking squaw, who was
singing in great excitement, while about a dozen men and boys were
accompanying her with their voices in a sort of chorus, the rhythmical
effect of which they increased by striking sticks together at regular
intervals. The music thus produced sounded unearthly to the foreign
bystander. The squaw was all the time very busy about the lad, now
bending over him and making all kinds of grimaces, and now baring his
chest and pretending by her actions to be scooping out his disease, and
now again falling on her knees before him and striving to draw out the
evil spirit with both her hands. She blew into her hands and then moved
them over the patient in a peculiar manner as if she were tossing the
noxious spirit away into the air. Then again she would blow with her
mouth on his neck downwards, making a quick sputtering noise; and at
last she began to suck his neck and chest in different parts. Whatever
may be thought of this operation, the boy certainly soon got better.
Moreover, our informant concludes his account of the occurrence with the
statement: "One singular custom prevailing here (with the Indians of
Wallawalla) is that all the convalescents are directed to sing for
several hours during the day."[45]
The Indian tribes in Guiana have mystery-men, called Piatzas, or Piaies,
who constitute a powerful priesthood. In their incantations they use
rattles, and also drums and bells. When a person suffering from a
protracted illness finds the commonly-used medicines of no avail, his
refuge is to the Piatza, to induce him to drive out the evil spirit that
must be the cause of the mischief. The Piatza carries the patient into
the nearest forest, and having fastened his hammock to some tree across
a pass, he commences the incantations, which he accompanies with the
noise of his rattle. The rattle consists of a calabash partly filled
with small pebbles. During his incantations no one is permitted to
witness what he is doing, even the patient being enjoined to close his
eyes and to keep them shut until the end of the ceremony. The Piatza
draws a circle round the sick person and addresses the evil spirit.[46]
Again, the _Manchi_, or medicine-man of the Peguenches and other Indian
tribes in the Argentine Provinces, is skilled in the use of herbs. If
remedies of this kind prove ineffectual, mysterious ceremonies are
resorted to. A sheep and a colt are killed, and are placed with vessels
of a fermented liquor, called _chichala_, under trees close to a hut;
the patient is carried out of the hut and laid on the sunny side of the
trees. The _Manchi_ and the women now dance in a circle round the trees,
the animals, and the sick person. When the dancers are exhausted the
_Manchi_ fumigates the animals and the sick person three times, and then
sucks the diseased part of the man with such force as to draw blood.
After this, he sucks the heart of the colt and anoints the sick person
with the blood of the animal. At the conclusion of these disgusting
ceremonies, in the performance of which the _Manchi_ affects to be in a
trance, dancing is recommenced, and the patient is forced to join in it,
supported by his friends. A general feast, in which the people consume
the animals, concludes the ceremony.[47] The _Manchi_ generally uses a
kind of drum in his incantations.
The mystery-men of the Araucanian Indians are called _Gligua_, or
_Dugol_, and some of them are distinguished by the epithets
_Guenguenu_, _Genpugni_, and _Genpuri_ (_i. e._ "Master of the heavens,
of epidemic diseases, of worms and insects,") and are supposed to have
the power of curing every disease, of producing rain, and of preventing
the ravages of worms and insects. The real medicine-men are called
_Machi_,[48] and their method of curing is similar to that of the
_Manchi_ of the Argentine Provinces just described. The ceremony is,
however, always performed in the night. The hut in which the patient
lies is lighted with a great number of torches. In a corner of the room
is placed, among branches of laurel, a large bough of cinnamon, to which
is suspended the magic drum; and near to it is a sheep which is to be
killed for sacrifice. A number of women sing aloud and beat upon little
drums, while the _Machi_ proceeds, with frightful gesticulations and
horrible contortions of his body, to exorcise the evil spirit which is
supposed to be the cause of the malady.[49] Sometimes he will suddenly
exhibit in triumph a spider, a toad, or some other obnoxious animal,
which he pretends to have extracted from the body of the sufferer.[50] A
more detailed account of these impostors is unnecessary, especially as
the works are mentioned which contain full descriptions of them.
The largest Indian tribes in Patagonia, the Moluches and the Puelches,
have male and female sorcerers. Boys who suffer from epileptic fits, or
from the St. Vitus's dance, are selected for this office, and are
brought up in it. They have to adopt female apparel, which they continue
to wear when grown up. These men, dressed like women, are supposed to
have been destined for their profession by the demons themselves. They,
likewise, assume the power of curing disease by means of incantations
accompanied with the noise of rattles and drums.[51]
The close resemblance of certain practices of the medicine-men among
uncivilized nations in different parts of the globe, is especially
suggestive. Nor are the differences without interest.
Turning to Africa, we have musical-medical practitioners with the
Negroes and Kafirs, whose art must have originated quite independently
of that of the American medicine-men. The Negroes in Jamaica have
sorcerers and physicians, called Obeah-men, whose ceremonies are
probably of African origin, although they are in many respects similar
to those of the Indian medicine-men. The Obeah-men, being well
acquainted with the peculiar effects of the different poisonous plants,
it is said, often make bad use of their knowledge.[52] When attending a
sick person, the Obeah-man generally commences his cure with a dance,
and he administers a powder, or a liquor, to his victim.[53]
The Negroes in Western Africa have professional musicians or minstrels,
called in Senegambia, _Griots_; singing men, or bards, called
_Jillikea_; Fetish priests who drum and dance as if they themselves were
possessed of evil spirits; Priestesses of the Serpent worship, which has
its principal temples in Whydah; Rain-makers; Wizards, called
_Greegree-men_; and other "wise men," who are also physicians and
musicians. The _Ganga_, in Loango, South Western Africa, are, according
to the Abbe Proyard, priests as well as physicians: "When they come to a
patient, they ask him where his ailment lies. They blow on the part
affected: after that, they make fomentations, and tie up his limbs in
different places with bandages. These are the preliminaries used in all
diseases. They know nothing either of phlebotomy, or of medicine....
They know a very salutary remedy, in their opinion, for all diseases;
but this they only employ in favour of those who can afford the expense.
When they are called in to a rich man, they take with them all the
performers on musical instruments they can find in the country. They
all enter in silence; but, at the first signal which they give, the
musical troop begin their performance. Some are furnished with stringed
instruments, others beat on the trunks of hollow trees covered with
skin,--a sort of tabor. All of them uniting their voices with the sound
of the instruments round the patient's bed, make a terrible uproar and
din, which is often continued for several days and nights in
succession."[54]
The mystery-man in Benguela is called _Kimbanda_. He performs his
ceremonies in the forest, in the presence of the people. Before him
stands a calabash with a wide opening, in which are figures rudely
carved, of wood or bone, which represent different kinds of wild
animals. A rattle, which he holds in his hand, consists of a hollow
calabash containing pebbles. He shakes his rattle and addresses the
figures in a recitation, interspersed with questions concerning the
ailments of his patient. An assistant, who is hidden in the
neighbourhood of the figures, answers the questions in a hollow tone of
voice, as if it came from the figures. However, for the accomplishment
of the cure a sacrifice of a cow is generally demanded by those greedy
figures; or even more, according to the means of the patient. The
answers given by the figures are generally so indistinct that no one but
the _Kimbanda_ can understand them; and he communicates them to the
people.[55]
The Somali, in Eastern Africa, have similar mystery-men, called
_Tawuli_; and the natives of Zanzibar have the _Mganga_, who professes
to heal the patient by expelling the demon by means of his singing and
the shaking of his rattle. The mystery-man of the Kafirs of Natal
likewise accompanies his recitations with a rattle. He is an
extraordinarily dangerous and objectionable personage; for, when the
cattle fall sick, or some other mischief happens, he is apt to declare
that it has been caused by some evil-doer whom he can find out. He
sings and dances towards several individuals in succession, and affects
to examine them by his olfactory sense. Suddenly he touches one with the
gnu's tail which he carries in his hand. He leaps over the head of the
unhappy man, and points him out as the offender.[56] Also the Bechuana,
in fact every Kafir tribe, has one or more of such personages, who are
physicians and musicians, as well as priests, prophets, and rain-makers.
Considering the very low state of civilization of those natives of
Australia who have not come into contact with the European settlers, it
is especially interesting to learn their notions on the employment of
music in the cure of disease. These aborigines are divided into numerous
tribes, who have no chief, or leader properly speaking, except the
_Crodgy_, or "wise man," who, besides being a quack, is also the
conductor of their ceremonies. They not unfrequently suffer from
rheumatic pains in their limbs, which they believe to be caused by some
demon. To protect themselves against the demons, they carry about them
charms consisting of bits of rock crystal, called "mundy-stones," which
they value highly. They endeavour to drive away the demons by whirling
round their head an oval-shaped board, called _moor-y-umkarr_, which is
curiously ornamented, and is suspended to a string. It produces an
unearthly, humming sound, sometimes soft, sometimes loud and roaring,
according to the force with which it is whirled. The doctor, in curing a
sick person, proceeds much in the same manner as the medicine-man of the
North American Indians. He, however, uses no rattle; a bunch of green
reeds held in the hand and shaken serves the same purpose. The small-pox
is so greatly feared by the natives that they possess a special song,
called _nguitkurra_, by the singing of which the disease is believed to
be prevented, or checked in its progress.[57] A native from the
vicinity of Port Jackson, whose wife was complaining of a pain in the
stomach, was observed by a European traveller to cure her in the
following manner: "After blowing on his hand, he warmed it at a fire,
and then applied it to the part affected, beginning at the same time a
song which was probably calculated for the occasion. A piece of flannel
being warmed and applied by a bystander, rendered the warming his hand
unnecessary; but he continued his song, always keeping his mouth very
near to the part affected, and frequently stopping to blow on it, making
a noise after blowing, in imitation of the barking of a dog. But, though
he blew several times, he only made that noise once at every pause, and
then continued his song. The woman always made short responses whenever
he ceased to blow and bark."[58]
An English missionary in Tanna Island, New Hebrides, relates that when a
native of that Island is taken ill, his friends believe that his illness
is occasioned by some one burning his _nakah_ (_i.e._ "rubbish"). They
have "disease-makers" who are believed to have in their hands the power
of life and death, and who are consequently much feared. Every kind of
_nakah_ is carefully buried or thrown into the sea, lest the
disease-maker should pick it up, wrap it in a leaf, and burn it. When a
native is taken ill, his friends blow on a conch trumpet, which
signifies a supplication to the disease-maker to discontinue burning the
rubbish. If the sick man recovers, the disease-man receives a present
for having left off burning. The rubbish generally consists of some
refuse of food.[59] The New Zealanders had formerly similar
disease-makers, who were supposed to require a lock of hair, or some
nail-parings, of the person whom they intended to afflict with disease.
Let us now turn to some tribes in cold regions of the North, to compare
their musical ceremonies in the cure of illness with those in tropical
countries.
The natives of Kamtschatka have persons called _Shamans_, who profess to
be able to communicate with the spirits by arraying themselves in a
grotesque garment, chanting, beating a drum, dancing, and working
themselves up to a state of trance. They, on these occasions, drink an
infusion of a species of fungus, which has an intoxicating power, and
which sometimes makes them sleep afterwards for three or four days
without interruption. Its effect must therefore be similar to that of
opium. The Shamans of the Ostiaks, and of the Samoiedes, in Siberia,
suspend to their dress metal representations of strange birds, fishes,
and quadrupeds, with bones, teeth, and other frightful-looking things.
In their incantations they shake the dress so that the metallic
appendages produce clanging and tinkling sounds, the effect of which is
increased by the Shaman's beating a drum, of the tambourine kind. Also
the Laplanders, about a century ago, had such sorcerers, who used a drum
called _rune-bomme_, or _gobodes_, the parchment of which was marked
with mystic signs. The sorcerer was called _Noaaid_, or _Spagubbe_.
Besides his magic drum he had a magic chain, about twelve inches in
length, of tin and copper, which, when shaken, produced a shrill,
tinkling noise. No journey, no business transaction was undertaken by
the Lapp without his having previously consulted the Noaaid, who by
means of a ring placed on the parchment of his drum, predicted the
success of the undertaking. When he beat the drum, the vibration caused
the ring to move to one or other of the mysterious signs marked upon the
parchment; and from the position of the ring, he pretended to be able to
divine the future. Moreover, he cured diseases by beating his drum to
incantations and wild dancing. The Lapps believed that the defunct
relations of the sick person attempted to draw him over to them; it,
therefore, naturally suggested itself to his friends to engage the
interference of the Noaaid, who professed to have intercourse with the
spirits of the dead. The pagan Finns had the same notion, which is not
surprising, considering that they and the Lapps are of one race. The
sorcerers of the Finns recited songs, called _lugut_, when they
attempted to exorcise the evil spirit of the patient, or to remove the
witchcraft occasioning the mischief. These superstitions the Finnish
races probably brought with them originally from Asia, where we still
meet with them at the present day. It is remarkable that in time of
remote antiquity, the priests of certain Eastern nations used tinkling
instruments for the purpose of frightening away the demons. The ancient
Egyptians shook the Sistrum; and the priests of the Copts and of the
Abyssinian Christians observe still this very ancient custom. The Hebrew
priests, at the time of Moses, had little bells attached to their robes
for protection against evil influences; at any rate, it is recorded that
the sound of Aaron's bell was to be heard "that he die not." (Exod.
chap. xxviii., v. 35.)
A curious account of the employment of music in the cure of diseases in
Chinese Tartary is given by M. Huc. He says: "When illness attacks any
one his friends run to the nearest monastery for a Lama, whose first
proceeding upon visiting the patient is to run his fingers over the
pulse of both wrists simultaneously, as the fingers of a musician run
over the strings of an instrument.... After due deliberation the Lama
pronounces his opinion as to the particular nature of the malady.
According to the religious belief of the Tartars all illness is owing to
the visitation of a _Tchutgour_, or demon, but the expulsion of the
demon is first a matter of medicine. The Lama physician next proceeds,
as Lama apothecary, to give the specific befitting the case. The Tartar
pharmacopoeia rejecting all mineral chemistry, the Lama remedies
consist entirely of vegetables pulverized, and either infused in water
or made up into pills. If the Lama doctor happens not to have any
medicine with him he is by no means disconcerted; he writes the
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