The most ancient known piece of music for several voices is an English four men's song, "Summer is a coming in," which is considered to be at least as early as 1240, and is now in the British Museum.

The Venetian Amba.s.sador in the time of Henry VIII. said of our English Church music: "The ma.s.s was sung by His Majesty's choristers, whose voices are more heavenly than human; they did not chant like men, but like angels."

Speaking of Purcell's anthem, "Be merciful to me, O G.o.d," Burney says it is "throughout admirable. Indeed, to my conception there is no better music existing of the kind than the opening of this anthem, in which the verse 'I will praise G.o.d' and the last movement in C natural are, in melody, harmony, and modulation, truly divine music."

Dr. Burney says that Purcell was "as much the pride of an Englishman in music as Shakespeare in productions of the stage, Milton in epic poetry, Locke in metaphysics, or Sir Isaac Newton in philosophy and mathematics;"

and yet Purcell's music is unfortunately but little known to us now, as Macfarren says, "to our great loss."

The authors of some of the loveliest music, and even in some cases that of comparatively recent times, are unknown to us. This is the case for instance with the exquisite song "Drink to me only with thine eyes," the words of which were taken by Jonson from Philostratus, and which has been considered as the most beautiful of all "people's songs."

The music of "G.o.d save the Queen" has been adopted in more than half a dozen other countries, and yet the authorship is a matter of doubt, being attributed by some to Dr. John Bull, by others to Carey. It was apparently first sung in a tavern in Cornhill.

Both the music and words of "O Death, rock me to sleep" are said to be by Anne Boleyn: "Stay, Corydon" and "Sweet Honey-sucking Bees" by Wildye, "the first of madrigal writers." "Rule Britannia" was composed by Arne, and originally formed part of his Masque of _Alfred_, first performed in 1740 at Cliefden, near Maidenhead. To Arne we are also indebted for the music of "Where the Bee sucks there lurk I." "The Vicar of Bray" is set to a tune originally known as "A Country Garden." "Come unto these yellow sands" we owe to Purcell; "Sigh no more, Ladies" to Stevens; "Home, Sweet Home" to Bishop.

There is a curious melancholy in national music which is generally in the minor key; indeed this holds good with the music of savage races generally. They appear, moreover, to have no love Songs.

Herodotus tells us that during the whole time he was in Egypt he only heard one song, and that was a sad one. My own experience there was the same. Some tendency to melancholy seems indeed inherent in music, and Jessica is not alone in the feeling

"I am never merry when I hear sweet music."

The epitaphs on Musicians have been in some cases very well expressed.

Such, for instance, is the following:

"Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power and hapless love, Rest here, distressed by poverty no more; Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep, undisturbed, within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!"

Still more so that on Purcell, whose premature death was so irreparable a loss to English music--

"Here lies Henry Purcell, who left this life, and is gone to that blessed place, where only his harmony can be exceeded."

The histories of Music contain many curious anecdotes as to the circ.u.mstances under which different works have been composed.

Rossini tells us that he wrote the overture to the "Gazza Ladra" on the very day of the first performance, in the upper loft of the La Scala, where he had been confined by the manager under the guard of four scene-shifters, who threw the text out of the window to copyists bit by bit as it was composed. Tartini is said to have composed "Il trillo del Diavolo," considered to be his best work, in a dream. Rossini, speaking of the chorus in G minor in his "Dal tuo stellato soglio," tells us: "While I was writing the chorus in G minor I suddenly dipped my pen into a medicine bottle instead of the ink. I made a blot, and when I dried this with the sand it took the form of a natural, which instantly gave me the idea of the effect the change from G minor to G major would make, and to this blot is all the effect, if any, due." But these of course are exceptional cases.

There are other forms of Music, which though not strictly ent.i.tled to the name, are yet capable of giving intense pleasure. To the sportsman what Music can excel that of the hounds themselves. The cawing of rooks has been often quoted as a sound which has no actual beauty of its own, and yet which is delightful from its a.s.sociations.

There is, however, a true Music of Nature,--the song of birds, the whisper of leaves, the ripple of waters upon a sandy sh.o.r.e, the wail of wind or sea.

There was also an ancient impression that the Heavenly bodies give out music as well as light: the Music of the Spheres is proverbial.

"There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal souls But while this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." [6]

Music indeed often seems as if it scarcely belonged to this material universe, but was

"A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music, and moonlight, and feeling are one." [7]

There is Music in speech as well as in song. Not merely in the voice of those we love, and the charm of a.s.sociation, but in actual melody; as Milton says,

"The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear."

It is remarkable that more pains are not taken with the voice in conversation as well as in singing, for

"What plea so tainted and corrupt But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil."

It may be true as a general rule that

"The man that hath no Music in himself Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;" [8]

but there are some notable exceptions. Dr. Johnson had no love of music.

On one occasion, hearing that a certain piece of music was very difficult, he expressed his regret that it was not impossible.

Poets, as might have been expected, have sung most sweetly in praise of song. They have, moreover, done so from the most opposite points of view.

Milton invokes it as a luxury--

"And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs; Married to immortal verse Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out; With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running; Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony."

Sometimes as a temptation; so Spenser says of Phaedria,

"And she, more sweet than any bird on bough Would oftentimes amongst them bear a part, And strive to pa.s.se (as she could well enough) Their native musicke by her skilful art."

Or as an element of pure happiness--

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

How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence sweet, now dying all away, Now pealing loud again and louder still Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on." [9]

As touching the human heart--

"The soul of music slumbers in the sh.e.l.l, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell, And feeling hearts--touch them but lightly--pour A thousand melodies unheard before." [10]

As an education--

"I have sent books and music there, and all Those instruments with which high spirits call The future from its cradle, and the past Out of its grave, and make the present last In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot die, Folded within their own eternity." [11]

As an aid to religion--

"As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the blessed above, So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high.

The dead shall live, the living die, And music shall untune the sky." [12]

Or again--

"Hark how it falls! and now It steals along, Like distant bells upon the lake at eve.

When all is still; and now it grows more strong As when the choral train their dirges weave Mellow and many voiced; where every close O'er the old minster roof, in echoing waves reflows.

Oh! I am rapt aloft. My spirit soars Beyond the skies, and leaves the stars behind; Lo! angels lead me to the happy sh.o.r.es, And floating paeans fill the buoyant wind.

Farewell! base earth, farewell! my soul is freed."

The power of Music to sway the feelings of Man has never been more cleverly portrayed than by Dryden in "The Feast of Alexander," though the circ.u.mstances of the case precluded any reference to the influence of Music in its n.o.blest aspects.

Poets have always attributed to Music--and who would wish to deny it?--a power even over the inanimate forces of Nature. Shakespeare accounts for shooting stars by the attraction of Music: