图书图片
PDF
ePub

*

day. Parts of its liturgy are still chanted, or tivation of that science in various districts of the recited, in a kind of melody, composed strictly county of Northumberland. Venerable Bede according to the laws of the Gregorian chant; was himself an able musician, and the author of and with an effect wonderfully grave and noble, a Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Music. arising partly from the simplicity of the strain" Music," says the venerable presbyter, "is and its total dissimilarity to any of the music the most worthy, courteous, pleasant, joyous, that is used on lighter occasions, and partly and lovely of all knowledge; it makes a man from the associations connected-as in the case gentlemanly in his demeanour, pleasant, courof Gothic architecture-with its venerable an- teous, joyous, and lovely, for it acts upon his tiquity. Of this character of the Gregorian feelings. * * Music encourages us to chant our modern composers are so well aware bear the heaviest afflictions, administers consothat they often employ it on particular occasions lation in every difficulty, refreshes the broken to heighten the effect of their sacred music. spirit, removes headache and sorrow, expels foul The music of the Gregorian chants in the spirits, and cures crossness and melancholy.” Romish missals is written in those ancient square characters which are usually termed "Gregorian notes." But St. Gregory was not the inventor of them; though he made the very important step of applying the first seven Roman letters to the sounds of the octave, as is done to this day. The Gregorian notes were used in Merbecke's first book of common-prayer, noted-" Printed at London, in 1550," of which we shall have to speak hereafter.

St. Benedict, whose life Bede wrote, contributed greatly to the establishment of the Gregorian chant in this island; having been five times in Rome, and well received by Pope Agatho, he acquired a perfect knowledge in the monastic rules, the quire-song, and all other ecclesiastical rules; and through his exertions the Roman chant became well known in the several monasteries founded by him. It seems to have been the custom, in these times, for the clergy to travel to Rome for improvement in music, as well as to obtain masters of that art from the Holy College. At length the successors of St. Gregory, and of St. Augustine, his missionary, having established a school for Church music at Canterbury, the rest of the island was furnished with instructors from that seminary; and Roman music and singing seem to have been in high favour here during the middle ages. "We have a pleasing proof," says Turner, in his History of the AngloSaxons, " of the impressive effect of the sacred music of the monks, in the little poem which Canute the Great made upon it. As the mo

John Diaconus, the author of St. Gregory's life, informs us that he established a singingschool at Rome, and that it subsisted 300 years after his death, which happened in 604. He assures us that the original "Antiphonarium," or book of anthems, of this Pope, was still existing, as well as the whip with which he used to threaten the restive scholars, and also the bed on which his infirmities obliged him to recline, when, in the latter part of his life, his zeal still led him to visit his favourite school and hear the scholars practise. It was this holy man who, according to the venerable Bede, sent hither Augustine the monk, to convert our Saxon forefathers to the Christian faith. Bede says that when Augus-narch, with his queen and courtiers, were aptine and the companions of his mission-singers thoroughly instructed in the Roman institutionhad their first audience of King Ethelbert in the Isle of Thanet, they approached him in proeession, singing litanies; and that afterwards, when they entered the city of Canterbury, they sung a litany, and at the end of it, “Allelujah!" This was the first time that the Anglo-Saxons had heard the Gregorian chant, which extended the number of four tones of St. Ambrose to eight. The four modes introduced by St. Gregory were denominated plagal; those of St. Ambrose, authentic. To enter into an examination of the structure of these tones is not our business on the present occasion; suffice it to remark that they are still used exclusively, on particular occasions, in the Romish churches.

Music, it is probable, made but little progress in this country till 680, when John, precentor of St. Peter's, was sent over by Pope Agatho, to instruct the monks of Wearmouth in the art of singing, and particularly to acquaint them with the manner of performing the festival services throughout the year, according to the practice of Rome. And such was the reputation of his skill, that the masters of music from all the other monasteries of the north came to hear him, and prevailed upon him to open schools for the cul

[ocr errors]

proaching Ely, the monks were at their devotions. The king, attracted by the melody, ordered his rowers to approach it, and to move gently, while he listened to the sounds which came floating through the air from the church on the high rock before him. He was so delighted by the effect, that he made a poem on the occasion, of which the first stanza only has come down to us." This little impromptu Saxon ballad began thus, as translated by Turner:

"Merry sang the monks in Ely,

When Canute the king was sailing by; 6 Row, ye knights, near the land, And let us hear these monks' song."" Contemporary writers have left us the relation of a serious quarrel between Gallic and Roman musicians, in the time of Pope Adrian and Charlemagne. It is too curious to be omitted; and we shall, therefore, extract a part of Dr. Burney's abridgment of the story:

"The most pious King Charles having returned to celebrate Easter at Rome with the apostolic Lord, a great quarrel ensued during the Festival, between the Roman and Gallic singers. The French pretended to sing better and more agreeably than the Italians; and the Italians, on the contrary, regard

ing themselves as more learned in ecclesiastical | not only an excellent musician, but a notable music, which they had been taught by St. Gregory, accused their competitors of corrupting, disfiguring, and spoiling, the true chant. The dispute being brought before our sovereign lord the king, the French, thinking themselves sure of his countenance and support, insulted the Roman singers, who, on their part, emboldened by superior knowledge, treated them as fools and barbarians. As their

altercation was not likely to come to a speedy issue, the most pious King Charles asked his chanters, which they thought to be the purest and best water, that which was drawn from the source, at the fountain head, or that which, after being mixed with turbid and muddy rivulets, was found at a great distance from the original spring? They cried out, unanimously, that all water must be most pure at its source;' upon which our lord the king said, Mount ye then up to the pure fountain of St. Gregory, whose chant ye have manifestly corrupted.' After this judicious settlement of the quarrel, Charlemagne applied to the Pope for singing-masters to correct the Gallican chant, which was accordingly done."

Musical missionaries were sent, about this time, from Rome to other parts of Europe, to instruct the converts to Christianity, in the Church service, which accounts for that similarity and almost identity of melody observable in the sacred music of all the countries of Europe at the time of the Reformation; till when, little other music was known or practised than that of the Church.

It was at the latter end of the ninth century that our Alfred flourished; a prince whom all his historians celebrate, not only as a great sovereign, legislator, warrior, politician, and scholar, but also as an excellent musician. Not only is his own performance spoken of in the highest terms, but the encouragement which he gave to music, among other sciences, in the University of Oxford. The well-known story of Alfred entering and exploring the Danish camp in the disguise of a harper, or minstrel, and being sufficiently a musician to impose upon the enemy for several successive days, is an undeniable proof of his ability; and this excellent monarch not only encouraged and countenanced the practice of music, but in 886 founded a professorship at Oxford for its cultivation as a

science.

Anlaff, king of the Danes, is said to have afterwards successfully resorted to the same artifice; from which we may gather that music formed at this period an important part of a learned education.

The celebrated St. Dunstan was an eminent musician, musical talents being in those days an indispensable requisite to ecclesiastical preferment. His superior knowledge of the art, however, was numbered among the crimes imputed to him; for being accused of magic, it was urged against him that he had constructed, by the assistance of the evil spirit, a harp, which not only moved of itself, but played without human assistance. How easily accounted for, in the Eolian harp, such magic would be at the present day! St. Dunstan was

painter and statuary. He is said to have cast two of the bells of Abingdon Abbey with his own hands; and, according to William of Malmesbury, he gave an organ to that abbey in the reign of King Edgar. This leads us to speak of the history of this noble instrument. Tradition gives the invention of the organ to St. Cecilia, A. D. 200; but the most ancient proof of the existence of an instrument resembling the modern organ, blown by bellows, and played upon with keys, is a Greek epigram of Julian the Apostate, who flourished about 364. This instrument, however, was much more simple and imperfect in its construction than those organs described by ancient writers about 300 years later. The use of organs was unknown in the West down to the year 757, when the Greek emperor sent one as a present to Pepin, King of France.

During the tenth century, the use of the organ became general in Germany, Italy, and England. It was introduced into England sooner than into France, though the precise period is uncertain. The organ, however, of those times, differed very greatly from the instrument of our day.

Some barbarous verses, written by Wolstan, in the tenth century, show that there was at that time an organ of considerable magnitude in Winchester Cathedral, which was erected in that church by the Bishop of Winchester.

The following homely translation of these verses is in Mason's Essay on Church Music:

Twelve pair of bellows, ranged in stately row,
Are joined above, and fourteen more below;
These the full force of seventy men require,
Who ceaseless toil, and plenteously perspire;
Each aiding each, till all the winds be prest
In the close confines of the incumbent chest,
On which four hundred pipes in order rise,
To bellow forth the blast that chest supplies."

An instrument that required seventy stout bellows-blowers must have been of enormous size, however clumsily constructed! Some have conjectured, with some show of probability, that these men did not continue to blow during the time of the performance, but laid in a stock of wind, which was gradually expended as the organist played.

This theory, however, is not supported by a sketch of an Anglo-Norman organ, of the twelfth century, in "Strutt's Antiquities;" and it is difficult to account for the appalling supposition, that seventy stout fellows were required to blow the bellows of an organ which must have been of trifling dimensions compared with those now in common use. The best supposition in this perplexing case is, "that the seventy men spoken of, including all who might be employed at any time to blow the organ-bellows, which we need not consider as the general every-day business of any." This is even far from being a satisfactory settlement of the difficulty.

In the outline sketch alluded to, two performers and four bellows-blowers are simulta

neously employed, apparently to the utmost extent of their powers.

In a work on the art of organ-building, published in 1766, we are told that the organ-keys were at first five or six inches broad, and must have been played upon by blows of the fist. The ancient organ in the cathedral of Magdeburg had sixteen keys, each three inches broad. The same writer says that the halfnotes were introduced at Venice at the beginning of the twelfth century-that the compass of the instrument did not then exceed two octaves; and that a variety of stops were not invented till the conclusion of the sixteenth century. This statement, however, so far as it affects the question of a number of stops, and the semitones, is satisfactorily disproved in the volume before quoted, as also that of the finger-keys not having been used until the twelfth century. During the wars of the Great Rebellion, most of the organs throughout England were demolished, so that scarcely an instrument of the kind could be found at the Restoration.

The oldest organ now existing in England is supposed to be that in Exeter Cathedral, which was built by John Loosemore in 1665. But there is one in Trinity College, Dublin, which is said to have been taken from the Spaniards at the time of the destruction of the invincible Armada.

It is to the introduction of this majestic instrument, says Mr. Hogarth, in his admirable "History of Music," that we are indebted for the invention of counterpoint, or harmony; for from its being played with keys, the production of simultaneous sounds became easy; and the beautiful effects of the union of concordant sounds must soon have been felt. Soon after the invention of the organ, we find the first attempts at harmony to have been made; and though these, like all beginnings, must have been harsh, meagre, and shocking to modern ears, yet this new mine of musical beauties once opened, it was diligently wrought by an unbroken succession of eminent men, who threw away the rubbish which was gathered at first, and gradually purified the ore, till the commencement of the last century, when harmony may be said to have reached its greatest refine

ment.

Though the scope of these papers will not allow of our entering at length on the very interesting topic of national music, we shall cite from the work before quoted, "Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons," some few incidents and notices respecting the state of music and musical instruments among our Saxon ancestors:-"The Anglo-Saxons," says this author, "had the instruments of chords, (the lyre, and its varieties, the cithara, &c.), and wind instruments (flutes and horns). In the drawings on their MSS. we see the horn, trumpet, flute, and harp, and a kind of lyre of four strings, struck by a plectrum," which was a circular and smooth piece of ivory, used by way of the modern bow.

"In the MSS. which exhibit David and

three musicians playing together, David has a harp with eleven strings, which he holds with his left hand, while he plays with his right fingers; another is playing on a violin, or guitar of four strings with a bow, (though so called, this could not have been at all similar to the bow now in use); another blows a short trumpet, supported in the middle by a pole; while another blows a curved horn. This was probably a representation of an Anglo-Saxon concert."-" The chord instrument, like a violin, was perhaps that to which a disciple of Bede alludes, when he expresses how delighted he should be to have a player who could play on the cithara.''

[ocr errors]

"Of the harp, Bede mentions, that in all festive companies it was handed round, that every one might sing in turn. It must have, therefore, been in very common use."

"St. Dunstan is also described by his biographer to have carried with him to a house his cithara, which in our language we call hearpan.' He hung it against the wall; and one of the strings happening to sound untouched, it was esteemed a miracle."-" About the same time we have the description of an organ made in the church at Ramsey."- -"The earl devoted £30 to make the copper pipes of organs, which, resting with their openings in thick order on the spiral winding in the inside, and being struck on feast-days with the strong blast of bellows, emit a sweet melody, and a far-resounding peal.”

From all this it is evident that our Saxon fathers were diligent musicians, and universally skilled in the practice of the art. They brought their bards and their music with them to England; and the character of their national airs is marked by a good-humoured heartiness, and a manly simplicity and strength, which give it the stamp of sincerity, and cause it at once to find the way to the heart and the affections.

Upon the whole, we find that music was a most favourite amusement of our Anglo-Saxon forefathers-that it formed one of the four divisions of education at that period-and that it was an accomplishment universally possessed by the Saxon youth. Venerable Bede tells us, that Ceadmon, the poet, " continued in a worldly state till he arrived at an advanced age, without learning any song; and thus frequently, when at a banquet, it was for merriment's sake determined that every one in his turn should sing, accompanying himself on the harp. When he saw the harp approaching him, he would arise from the table in confusion, and quit the house."

"In short," says a careful writer on the subject, "the musical education of our ancestors seems to have been of a more solid character than is generally met with in the present age; in that it passed beyond mere mechanical skill, and proceeded to the first principles of harmonics."

(To be continued.)

LINES.

(Written on seeing the Portrait of the Son of the Honourable William Campbell-a distinguished American-in the dress of a Highlander.)

BY MRS. ABDY.

Sweet boy, in Highland vestments aptly clad,
Well do thy looks beseem thy brave array;
Thou dost not wear the bonnet and the plaid
Merely for vain adornment and display :
The garb so suited to thy youthful grace
Is thine in virtue of thine ancient race.

A century hath passed-a hopeful band
Of Scotland's sous then dared the ocean foam,
Left in adventurous zeal their native land
To seek in fair America a home;
And there, content and willing to abide,

Successive generations lived and died.

There dwells thy father-there hath he attained
No trivial station, no unnoticed name;
His lofty powers of intellect have gained,

Even in that Land of Mind, the meed of fame:
Long hath America his value known,
And joyfully she claims him for her own.

Yet still his fancy to the nation roves

From which his honoured ancestors came forth; Though dwelling in the country that he loves,

His faithful thoughts turn fondly to the North: No lapse of years the clausinan's heart can chill, It hovers round its land and kindred still.

And, eager by each symbol that he can,

His deep and true remembrance to impart, He decks thee in the garments of his clan,

Early revealing to thy youthful heart Knowledge it proudly welcomes and retains, That Scottish blood is flowing in thy veins.

Oh! may'st thou emulate, sweet boy, his worth,
Thy ancestorial land with love recall,
Yet dearly prize the country of thy birth,

Feeling the patriot heart hath room for all; And may each honour that thy sire hath won Descend in future years upon his son.

KATHLEEN'S GHOST.

BY ADA TREVANION.

The pale stars gemmed the welkin's vault,
Above the silvery breast of Dee,
And through night's mantling purple shed
A wavering light o'er land and lea,
When Edmond warmly, slumbering lay,
His dreams of Mary's fairy cot;
Then, sad and strange, a hollow voice
Said, "Edmond, is the past forgot?"

The hyacinth pealed from its bells

Low music on the cool night-air,
The white rose 'gainst the window pane
Waved to and fro its branches fair;
And Philomel in floating moans

'Plained of her love from grove and grot, But clear above all other sounds

[blocks in formation]

Three times it spake-then, with a start,
Edmond gazed round the dusky room;
The old prints glimmered from the walls,
The curtains fell in unchanged gloom;
But in thick gushes strove his breath,
And his bright locks stood up with dread,
When, turning, he espied the form

Of injured Kathleen near his bed.

Her face was like an autumn leaf,
Whitened and worn by chilling frost;
A misty shroud about her hung,
O'er which her lily hands were crossed,
The river's stain was on her brow,
All coldly heaved her bosom fair,
And ever, as she shivering sighed,

The wave dripped from her auburn hair. "Oh! Edmond, it was dark and chill,

The night you turned me from your door; There was no dwelling on the heath,

No shelter on the barren moor;
With maddening brain and breaking heart,
I plunged then 'neath the winding Dee,
And vainly hoped for rest in death,

But, Edmond, there's no rest for me.
"For three long nights and three long days
My drifted corse in earth hath lain,
Yet evermore my sheeted sprite

Is hurried swift o'er land and main;
I'm borne upon the moaning blast;
I'm tossed upon the surging sea-
My hair is wet, my shroud is damp,

But Edmond, there's no rest for me.

"In the deep bowers where we have met,

Through the long meadows coolly green, Down the lone vale, up the steep hill,

My weary wandering feet have been; I'm known to every star which shines, To every breeze which sweeps the lea; My form is chill, my strength is spent, But, Edmond, there's no rest for me.

"No rest yet whereso'er I go,

Or soon or late, you too must come; For your guilt is my lost soul's powerYour heart, in death as life, my home." Loud crew the cock, the phantom fled, And the grey dawn o'erspread the sky; But still young Edmond stirless lay, With ashy cheek and straining eye.

From the cool chamber of the east

The wakened winds came sighing out; The swallows twittered in the eaves; The flowrets breathed their sweets about; And the red sun all brightly rose Above the rounded level plain, And shone on Edmond's proud domains, But for their owner shone in vain.

Woe was in Whitram's halls that day,
And wild despair in Mary's cot;
For in the tapestried chamber drear,
Where the gold-purple light fell not,
With upturned face and ghastly stare,
And glossy curls in damp waves spread,
Upon his soft silk-curtained couch

The hamlet's youthful squire lay dead. Ramsgate, Feb. 9, 1850.

THREE" ENGLISH SONNETS."

BY MARIA NORRIS.

No. 1.-THE PAST.

A dark and shadowy shore behind me lies;
With hurried breath and grief-chilled heart I turn
Unto that misty land my longing eyes,

Yet only shadows can those eyes discern;
Shadows are they that thronging cluster there,
Shadows for which my eager arms I spread,
Yet ere I clasp them all are lost in air,

All, all those dear ones far away or dead. Or worse-the lapse of time has harshly broken The tender bonds that round our hearts did twine; And love that seemed eternal has no token

Left upon earth, save these sad thoughts of mine. Is there a shape that haunts that mystic spot Which has forgotten me? "Tis not by me forgot.

No. 2.--THE PRESENT.

A stormy sea, a bark but small and slight,
A sky beclouded and a coward crew,
Not one sweet glimpse of heaven's dear golden light,
Not one faint star the night-sky shining through.
Strong dash the waves, and feebly yields the prey;
Her timbers creak, her sails are torn apart,
The tempest roars: Who guides her? Where are
they

Can brave the storms that try a human heart? 'Tis all deserted; silence dark and drear

Shall take the place of these contending winds. The rude din fades; strange loneliness and fear Steal o'er me, and my saddened spirit finds But painful pleasure watching her own fate; O, Heavenly Father! help the desolate!

No. 3.-THE FUTURE.

Green lanes, where golden sunshine ever glances, Through harp-like boughs stirred by the minstrel breeze,

And tangled verdure, through whose lacings dances
Light, changeful as the hues of summer seas;
A thousand flowers spring up beside fresh hedges,
A thousand scents breathe out voluptuous May;
The brook flows silvery by its skirting sedges,
Singing to each, yet journeying on its way;
Soft tones salute me, voices long-while still

Are come from dim oblivion's dark domain.
High beats the heart that hope and pleasure fill,
In realms where none may love and leave again.
I half mistrust them-yet these future times
Shine ever beautiful in idle rhymes.

26th Dec. 1849.

THE HOUR OF THOUGHT.

BY MARY CHEETHAM.

Beside the opened lattice, when the air
Is freshening in the leaves, and a soft chime
Of inatin music, like a whispered prayer,
Fills all the echoes of the dewy prime;
To feel the living sunbeams slowly move
From pane to pane-a very light of love ;-

Or the still dimness of the greenwood bowers

At gorgeous noon, with waters flashing near; The bee's faint hum among the thick wild flowers; A brooding dove's low note, to soothe the earThat time shall prove, with precious influence fraught,

The consecrated hour of deepest thought!

There is a magic in the golden eve;

In the rich light upon the hills' far blue;
In the bright clouds, whose delicate traceries weave
A maze of varied pictures, ever new,
With every zephyr of the full-blown year,
With every change of human hope and fear.

And oh, the awful calm of breathless night!—-
The death-like night, with passions all at rest;
With sheen of stars, or melancholy light

Of the young moon. Oh, for the stricken breast,
Through the long day bearing its weary woes,
To find in night nor soothing nor repose!

Morning is all of hope; its white-winged hours Nurse life's young dreams-not the resolve of might;

Noon for the work most stern of will and powers,

And prayer and penitence for solemn night! Yet give one season to the heart o'erwroughtThe shadowy solitudes of eve, for thought!

Thought, that may hallow the departing day

With its grave lesson-of those fair deceits, Phantoms of love or hope, whose spells decay

As memory touches them; of sad heart-beats, For mortal frames. Thought, that may fold thee

round

Till prayer shall sanctify the enchanted ground,
And thy night's peace, for sleep or death, be found!

HOPE FOR THE BEST.

BY ROBERT H. BROWN, ESQ.

Let us hope for the best-it is better

To struggle than yield to despair;
Hope breaketh each link of the fetter,
And scoffs at the bondage of Care!
It mocks at the hand of Affliction,
It smileth at shadows and fears;
And with the warm rays of conviction
It lighteth the valley of tears!
Then throw off the sorrowful bond,

Dispel the dark yoke from your breast; Oh! who would submit and despond? Better struggle and-hope for the best!

Let us hope for the best-never fear,
Though lost in Adversity's track,
The breath of a sigh, or fail of a tear,
Will do little in guiding us back.
Meet Misfortune as you would a stranger,
Be cautious and quicken your pace,
And shrink not in trial and danger,

But meet the foe full in the face!
Oh! who would turn off from the strife,
When the shafts of Adversity press'd?
Who would flee the great battle of life?
Better struggle and-hope for the best!
Wakefield, Jan., 1850.

« 上一页继续 »