Chapter I: I Enter upon a serious and difficult undertaking; in the prosecution (4)

CLIX. When the unhappy woman is in this humiliating and dejected state, a gallant casts fond, or, as we commonly say in Spain, good eyes on her. To her, who at all times is condemned to see nothing but a frowning brow, it is natural to suppose, a pleasant countenance appears very delightsome: and such a leading circumstance conduces much to bring on, and facilitates a conversation between the parties; in which, the woman hears nothing but what is flattering and pleasing to her. Before this, she used to be accosted in nought but terms of reproach and contempt, and now, she is addressed in expressions of tenderness and adoration. She lately was treated as something beneath a woman; and now, she is elevated to the sphere of a divinity. She was accustomed lately to be called nothing but fool; and now, she is told that she possesses a sublime understanding. In the language of her husband, she was all imperfections; in that of her gallant, she is all charms and graces. The partner of her bed, lorded it over her like a tyrant master; the other, throws himself at her feet as an humble slave; and although the lover, if he had been her husband, would have acted just as the husband did: this reflection escapes the miserable wife, and she only sees that sort of difference between them, which there is between an angel and a brute. She views in her husband, a heart full of thorns; and in her gallant, one crowned with flowers. There a chain of iron presents itself to her sight; here a golden one. There slavery; here dominion. There a dungeon; here a throne.

CLX. In this situation, what can the most resolute woman do? How can she resist two impulses, directed to the same point, one that impels, and the other which attracts her? If heaven does not stretch forth a powerful and a friendly hand to support her, her fall is inevitable. And if she does fall, who can deny that her own husband forced her over the precipice? If he had not treated her with indignity and abusive railing, the flattery of the lover would have been of no avail. It was his ill-treatment which occasioned her downfall. All this mischief, most frequently proceeds from the mean opinion, which married men are apt to entertain of the other sex. Let them renounce these erroneous maxims, and the consequence will be, that their wives will become more faithful and constant. Let them cherish and esteem them, for God has commanded they should love them; and I can’t understand, how love and contempt, with respect to the same object, can be entertained, and accommodate themselves together in one and the same heart.

ON
CHURCH MUSIC.

SECT. I.

I. In ancient times, if we believe Plutarch, music was used only in temples, and that afterwards it passed to theatres. Formerly, it served as an ornament to divine worship; afterwards, it was used to stimulate vice. Heretofore, the melody of sacred hymns only were heard; afterwards, we began to listen to profane songs. Music originally, was used as an obsequies to the Deities, it was afterwards applied to inflame the passions. In old times, it was dedicated to Apollo, but it seems as if afterwards, Apollo had divided the protection of this art with Venus; and as if to poison the soul, and paint on the theatres the charms of vice, the finest colourings of rhetoric, joined to the harmony of poetic numbers, were not sufficient, they, to render these charms more attracting, and make the venom more active, confectioned and compounded rhetoric, poetry, and music together.

II. This diversity of uses to which music was appropriated, induced a difference in the composition of it: and as it was necessary in the temple, and in the theatre, to excite distinct affections, they contrived distinct modes of melody, to correspond, as their echoes, with the different affections of the soul. The Dorian mode, as grave, majestic, and devout, was reserved for the temple; and in the theatres, they adopted different modes, suited to the diversity of the matters. In the amorous representations, they used the Lydian mode, which was soft and tender; and when they had a mind to give the movement a stronger effect and expression, they applied the mixed Lydian, which was more pathetic and striking than the Lydian by itself. In warlike representations, they used the Phrygian mode, which is terrible and furious; and in affairs of mirth and jollity, or favouring of the Bacchanalian, they adopted the Æolian, which was sprightly and comic. The Subphrygian mode, was appropriated to calm the transports, raised by the Phrygian; and thus, to produce other effects, they had other modes of melody.

III. Whether these modes of the antients, corresponded with the different tones used by the moderns, is not clearly ascertained. Some authors affirm they do, others doubt it. I myself, am inclined to think they do not, because the diversity of our tones, have not that influence to vary the passions, which was experienced in the different modes of the antients.

SECT. II.

IV. Thus music, in those remote ages, was divided between the temple and the theatre, and was applied promiscuously, to worship at the altar, and to the corruption of manners. But although this was a lamentable falling-off, it was not the greatest abuse which has been practised on this noble art, the accomplishment of its perversion being reserved for our times. When the alteration in the application of music, which was employed heretofore only in divine worship, took place, the Greeks made a very judicious division and distribution of it; reserving to the temple, that which was proper for the temple; and giving to the theatre, that which was suitable to the theatre; but what has been done in these latter times? Not content with keeping theatrical music for the use of the theatre, they have translated it to the church.

V. The church chants of these times, with respect to their form and manner, sound like the songs of a jovial company sitting round a table. They are all composed of minuets, recitatives, light airs, and allegros; at the end of which, they substitute something which is called grave; but this is done very sparingly, lest it should seem tiresome and disgusting. What can this mean? Should not all the music in a church be grave? Ought not the whole composition to be calculated to impress gravity, devotion, and decency? The instrumental music is the same; but what effect can these Canary-birds airs, so predominant in the taste of the moderns, produce in the soul? This music, so replete with jigs, that you can scarce find a piece without one, can raise no other emotions in the imagination, than those of frolic and levity. He who hears on the organ, the same minuet which he heard at the ball, what effect will it have on him? No other, than reminding him of the lady with whom he danced the preceding night. Thus the music, which ought to translate the spirit of him who listens to it, from the terrestrial to the celestial temple, conveys it from the church to the banquet; and the ideas raised in the imagination of the person who hears this, if either from constitution, or vicious habits, he is ill disposed, will not forsake him at the church door.

VI. O good God! is this the sort of music, which expressed from the breast of the great Austin, while he was still wavering between God and the world, sighs of compunction, and tears of piety? _Oh how I wept_, said the saint, addressing himself to God in his confessions, _moved and excited, by the salutary hymns and canticles of thy church! Those words and sounds, made a lively impression on my ears, and through them, thy truths penetrated my mind. My heart burned with affection, and my eyes melted in tears._ This was the effect of the church music of those times; which, like the lyre of David, expelled the evil spirit, that had not quite forsaken the possession of St. Austin, and invoked the good one; the music of these times expels the good one, if such resides, and invites the evil one. The ecclesiastical chant of those days, was like the sound of the trumpets of Joshua, which threw down the walls of Jericho, that is, the passions which fortify the strong town of Vice. The chant of the present times, resembles the songs of the Syrens, which lead navigators on rocks and shoals.

SECT. III.

VII. How much better was the church with the plain chant, the only one known in it for many ages, and which, for the most part, was composed by the monks of St. Benedict, who were the greatest masters in the world at that time, among whom, should be first reckoned Gregory the Great, and the celebrated Guido Aretinus; after them came John Murs, a doctor of the Sorbonne, who invented the notes, which mark the various duration of the points; and truly, the simplicity of that chant, was not deficient in melodies, capable of moving the passions, and sweetly suspending the hearers. The compositions of Guido Aretinus were reckoned so pathetic, that cardinal Baronius tells us, that, in the year 1022, pope Gregory VIII. sent for him from his convent of Arezzo, and would not let him depart his presence, till he had taught him to sing a short verse of his Antiphonario. This was the person who invented the modern system of music, or artificial progression, which is now used, and called the scale of Guido Aretinus. He also contrived the harmonious combination of voices, in different tones; which art, was in all probability known to the antients, but all traces of it were then lost.

VIII. The plain chant, executed with proper pauses, has a peculiar excellence for the use of churches, which is, that being incapable of exciting such affections as are raised by theatrical music, it necessarily follows, that it must be the best adapted to induce such as are proper for the church. Who, by the sonorous majesty of the hymn _Vexilla Regis_, by the festive gravity of the _Pange Lingua_, by the mournful tenderness of the _Invitatorio de Difuntos_, would not feel himself excited to veneration, devotion, and contrition? We hear these chants every day, notwithstanding which, they always seem pleasing; when at the same time, after half a dozen repetitions, modern compositions grow tiresome and unsavoury to us.

IX. I would not however, on this account, quarrel with the figured, or, as it is commonly called, the organ chant; as I am sensible, it has great advantages over the plain; because it preserves and marks the accents on the words, which in the plain chant is impossible; and because the different duration of the points, produce to the ear that agreeable effect, which is caused to the sight, by a well-proportioned inequality of colours. It is only the abuse that has been introduced in the organ chant, which makes me prefer the plain one; and am in this respect, like a man who anxiously covets plain food, and avoids the more delicate, when he knows it is corrupted.

SECT. IV.

X. What good-disposed ears can, in sacred chants, endure those enormous breaks, and lascivious inflections, which offend against the rules of decency, and are contrary to those of music? I speak of those flights and wanderings, which seem as if they had been studied, and which the voice takes by straying from the subject of the melody; of those languishing falls from one point to another, that run not only through the semi-tone, but also through all the intermediate comas, and are transitions, which are not contained in art, nor does Nature allow them.

XI. Experience shews, that the changes which the voice makes in the chant, by running through small intervals (such passages containing in themselves a degree of effeminate softness, if not a lascivious tendency), are apt to produce in the minds of hearers, an effect, correspondent to such sort of ideas, and impress on the fancy certain confused images, which represent nothing good. On this account, many of the antients, and particularly the Lacedæmonians, reprobated as pernicious to youth, the sort of music called Chromatic, which by the introduction of B-flatts, and sostenutos, divides the octave into smaller intervals than the natural ones. Hear what Cicero says of this: _Chromaticum creditur repudiatum pridem fuisse genus, quod adolescentum remolesccrent eo genere animi; Lacedæmones improbasse ferentur. (Lib. 1. Tuscul. Quæst.)_ It may be supposed, they would have found more reason for prohibiting the Enharmonic also; which, by the addition of more flats and sostenutos, and by being joined to the two other sorts, the Diatonic and Chromatic, which must necessarily precede it, and by making the interval less still, divides the octave into a greater number of points: in consequence of which combination (the voice, by sometimes deviating from the natural point, through spaces which are yet shorter, that is to say, the minor semi-tones) there results a music, more soft and effeminate than the Chromatic.

XII. Is it not much to be lamented, that the Christians don’t use the same precaution the antients did, to prevent music from perverting the manners of youth? But we are so far from doing this, that already no music is allowed to be good, in which there is not introduced at every turn, both in the human voice, and in the instruments, points, which they call foreign, and which pass through all parts of the diapason, from the natural point to the accidental one; and this is the mode. There is no doubt but these transitions, managed with moderation, art and genius, produce an admirable effect; because they mark the expression of the words with more vivacity and spirit, than the pure diatonic progressions; and there results from so contriving things, a more delicate and expressive music. But the composers who are capable of doing this, are very few, and those few are the occasion of an infinite number of others losing and exposing themselves; who, by endeavouring to imitate them, for want of talents and address to manage the business, fail in the attempt, and form with their foreign introductions, a ridiculous music, which sometimes is insipid, and at others harsh; and when they mistake the least, there results from their labours, an unmeaning softness, and lascivious delicacy, which has no good effect on the mind, because there is no expression in it, capable of exciting any noble emotion. If, notwithstanding all that is objected to it, composers are desirous such music should go down, because it is the fashion, let them apply it to the use of the theatres and concert rooms; but don’t let them introduce it into the churches, as fashions were never contrived or calculated for them; and if the divine offices do not admit of change of modes, either in vestments or rites, why should they be admitted in musical compositions?

XIII. The case is, that this change of modes, contains at the bottom a certain venom, which Cicero gives an admirable description of; for he remarks, that in Greece, with the same pace manners declined towards corruption, music declined from its antient majesty, towards an affected softness; either because an effeminate music corrupted the integrity of men’s minds, or because a vitiated and depraved music debauches their taste, and inclines them to relish those bastard melodies, which, as symbols of, are best suited to their perverted manners: _Civitatumque hoc multarum in Græcia interfuit, antiquum vocum servare modum: quarum mores lapsi, ad mollitiem pariter sunt immutati in cantibus; aut hac dulcedine, corruptelaque depraviti, ut quidam putant: aut cum severitas morum ob olia vitia cecidisset, tum fuit in auribus, animisque mutatis etiam huic mutationi locus._ (Lib. 2. de Legibus.) So that the taste for this effeminate music, is the effect or cause of some relaxation in the mind. I would not however be understood to say, that all those who have a taste for such music, are tainted with this defect. Many of strict and incorruptible virtue, whom no vitiated music can warp, seem to approve it; but they in general do this, because they hear it is the fashion: and even many, though in reality they do not relish it, are led to say they do, only because they would not be looked upon as people wedded to, and prejudiced in favour of antiquated customs, and as persons, who are not possessed of faculties, capable of relishing the fine taste of the moderns.

SECT. V.

XIV. I am ready however to confess, that there have lately been published some excellent compositions, both with respect to the pleasing elegance of their taste, and the subtilty of the art displayed in them; but by way of contrast to these, which are very rare, an innumerable quantity of others have been produced, that to the ears are insufferable. This arises, partly from people undertaking to compose, who are not capable of doing it; and partly from ordinary composers pretending to take licences, which should only be attempted by great masters.

XV. It fares with music at this time, as it fares with surgery. In the same manner, that every blood letter of middling ability, takes upon him the name and occupation of a surgeon, every organist and violin player, of reasonable dexterity, sets himself up for a composer. This they can do, with little difficulty or labour, for they have only to get by heart, the general rules of consonance and dissonance; and then, from the numberless manuscripts, or printed violin sonatas with which the world abounds, take the first light air which occurs, or seems pleasing to them, and apply the tone of that air to the words; and as the voice proceeds, they, by those general rules, go on covering it with a dry accompanyment, which contains neither imitation nor excellence; and between the pauses of the voice, they may introduce a burst of violins for ten or a dozen bars, more or less, provided that is the stile of the sonata from whence they made the theft. If they would content themselves with doing no more than this, we might be brought to endure their productions: but the worst of the evil is, that from an affectation of being thought superior to trivial composition, they introduce false concords, without preparing, or being able to resolve them, and by that means, make terrible blemishes, and commit faults, that are inexcusable; and because also, they see some illustrious composers, dispense with the common rules, and take liberties, such as writing two-fifths, or two octaves immediately following each other, which they do only for the sake of introducing a good passage, or to attain some excellence of harmony, and which, without taking such a liberty, they could not have effected: and although these never take such a latitude, but under particular circumstances, and subject to certain limitations; the others have the audacity to attempt it, out of time, and when it can answer no purpose whatever; by which means, they are thrown to the ground with such violence, that the stroke of their fall is shocking to the ear.

XVI. Middling composers, although, by endeavouring to tread in the steps of the excellent ones, they do not fall into such gross errors, generally form a music, which at some times is lifeless, and at others turgid. This is occasioned by their introducing accidentals, and changing the keys in the same piece; which method, if practised by great masters, who used it seasonably and opportunely, not only gives a greater sweetness to the music, but communicates to the words, a more striking impression, than they of themselves, without this assistance, could convey or produce. Some strangers had a happy talent at doing this; but no one understood it better, than our Don Antonio de Literes, a composer of the first rate, and who is perhaps the only one, who knows how to unite all the majesty and sweetness of the antient music, with the bustle and hurry of the modern; but in the management of the accidental points, he has a singular address, for almost every time he introduces them, they give an energy to the music, which is correspondent to, and strengthens the signification of the words they fall on. To do this, requires both genius and science, but much more genius than science. From this deficiency in point of genius, we find masters in Spain, of great knowledge and comprehension, who were not so happy as to succeed in this way; so that, although in their compositions we admire the subtilty of their art, their works do not obtain the approbation of our ears.

XVII. Those who are unassisted by genius, and who, on the other hand, do not possess more than a moderate knowledge of music, make false concordances, introduce accidentals, and change the keys, because doing so is the fashion; and because they are fond of having it thought, they know how to manufacture these sort of airs; although, in reality, they seldom produce any air at all; and notwithstanding their compositions are conformable to the common rules, still they are unsavoury, and disagreeable; and when they are performed in the church, instead of producing that sweet calm, and inward composure which are requisite to devotion, they excite perturbations in the hearts of the hearers.

XVIII. Between the first and second of these, there comes in another sort of composers, who, though in point of abilities, are above mediocrity, they for sacred compositions are the worst of all. These are they, who sport with, and run the changes, upon all the delicacies music is capable of; but dispose them in such a manner, that the melody produced, has the sound of pantomime airs. All the irregularities they practise, either in false concordances, or accidentals, are introduced as graces, but graces very different from those recommended by St. Paul in his Epistle to the Colossians: _Ingratia cantantes in cordibus vestris Deo_: instead of such; they are graces of banter, and harmonies of indecency; and are a sort of passages, the best of which, the musicians themselves call childish and apish. Are such proper for the church? Let them, in God’s name, be sent to the courts of the comedies, and the halls of the dance. But is it not an impious abuse, to introduce into the house of God, things which are trifling, apish and indecent? And is not the blending them with divine worship, an abominable error?

XIX. Is not this attempting to banish from music, all enlivening chearfulness, except that which savours of the puerile and buffoon? Music may be exceedingly chearful, and at the same time, impregnated with a majestic gravity, capable of exciting in the hearers, affections of respect and devotion: or, to speak more properly, the most chearful and delectable music of all, is that which induces a sweet tranquillity in the soul; collecting it within itself, and let us say, elevating it with a kind of extatic rapture, superior to the body it is attached to; that the mind may take a flight, towards the mansions of bliss, and contemplate divine things in a nearer point of view. This is the sort of chearful music, which St. Austin approved as useful in churches, and which he treated St. Athanasius with excessive severity for having objected to; because its proper effect, is elevating those hearts to noble affections, which are oppressed and weighed down with earthly inclinations: _Ut per hæc oblectamenta aurium infirmior animus in affectum pietatis assurgat._ (Lib. 10. Confess. cap. 32.)

XX. It is true, that the masters capable of forming this noble kind of melody, are very few; but those who can’t attain this degree of perfection, should content themselves with doing something less; taking care however, that their compositions should tend to excite such dispositions, as are suitable to divine offices; or at least being careful, that they should not conduce to promote inclinations of an opposite nature; and at all events, although it should be at the hazard of disobliging the multitude, to shun those skittish sort of airs, which have a certain occult relation to forbidden affections; but of the two evils into which church music is in danger of falling, that of its being offensive to the ears, is a less mischief, than that of its being an incentive to vice.

XXI. The power of music to stir the passions, and raise in the minds of men, dispositions to virtue or vice, is very well known. It is related of Pythagoras, that, having by music adapted to produce such an effect, inflamed the heart of a certain youth to a dishonourable amour, he afterwards, by changing the tone, reduced him to the dominion of continence. It is also related of Timotheus, a musician of Alexander the Great, that he could irritate the martial fury of that prince to such a degree, that he would seize on his arms, and put himself in an attitude, as if his enemies were in front, and he on the point of charging them. This effect, however, was the less surprising, because the natural disposition of the prince, conspired to assist the skill of the artist. Some add, that after having enraged, he calmed him; and caused Alexander, who never turned his back on any danger, to become a fugitive from his own rage. But what is told of the power of another musician, which was exercised on Henry II. King of Denmark, called the Good, is more extraordinary than all this; for it is said, that by a movement and touch, calculated to excite choler, he inflamed the rage of that prince to such a degree, that he fell upon, and put to death, three or four of his domestics, and would have carried the havoc and devastation still further, if he had not been restrained by violence. This was the more wonderful, because the king’s natural disposition, was gentle and peaceable.

XXII. I don’t imagine the musicians of these times can perform such miracles, neither perhaps did the antient ones; for these histories are not extracted from Holy Writ. It is however certain, that music, according as the melody is varied, induces in the mind a variety of dispositions, some good, others bad. With one we find ourselves moved to sorrow, with another to mirth; with one to clemency, with another to blood; with one to fortitude, with another to pusillanimity; and so on with respect to other inclinations.

XXIII. There is no doubt of the justness of this remark; neither is there any, that a master, who composes for the church, should dispose the music in such a way, and write it in such a stile, as is best calculated to promote the spiritual welfare of souls; and to sustain the majesty, decorum, and solemnity of divine worship. St. Thomas, touching upon this point, says, the chant was a salutary institution in the church, because it excited sickly souls, that is, such as were weak in spirit, to devotion. But, alas! what would the saint say, if he was to hear in the church some of the airs of these times, which, so far from fortifying the sick, enfeeble the healthy; which, instead of promoting devotion in the breast, banish it from the soul; and instead of elevating the mind to pious reflections, bring to the memory forbidden things? I repeat it again, that it is an obligation on musicians, and a very serious one, to correct this abuse.

XXIV. Truly, when I reflect on the serious turn of mind for which Spaniards heretofore were remarkable, I can’t help being struck with amazement, to find at present, that we can relish no other but puppet-shew music. This looks as if the celebrated Spanish gravity, was reduced to nothing more, than stalking stiff and erect up and down the street. The Italians, by means of the false flattering insinuation, that music has been improved of late days, have made us the slaves of their taste. I, for my own part, believe what they call improvement, to be ruin and destruction, or something very near it. All intellectual arts, of whose excellencies, the understanding and the taste, cloathed with an equal degree of authority are judges, have their points, or zenith of perfection, which when they are once arrived at, he who attempts to advance them, commonly occasions their decline, and puts them in a train, which leads to their destruction.

XXV. It will perhaps, with respect to the science of music, happen to Italy very soon, if it has not happened there already, just as it happened to it with regard to the Latin language, oratory, and poetry. These faculties, in the age of Augustus, arrived to that state of propriety, beauty, elegance, and natural energy, in which their true perfection consisted. Those who succeeded to that age, pretended, by the violent introduction of improper ornaments, to refine them; by doing which, they precipitated them from Nature to affectation, and from thence they afterwards fell into barbarism. The poets who succeeded Virgil, and the orators who succeeded Cicero, were thoroughly persuaded in themselves, that they had given new graces, and new excellencies to the two arts; but the keen Petronius Arbiter, after upbraiding them with their ridiculous and pompous affectation, told them very plainly, what in reality they had done: _Vos primi omnium eloquentiam perdidistis._

SECT. VII.

XXVI. To see whether the music of these times suffers the same shipwreck, which the before-named sciences underwent; let us examine, in what the music, which is now practised, differs from that of the antecedent age. The first and most remarkable distinction which occurs, is the diminution of the figures. The shortest points which were formerly known, were demi-semi quavers; and with them, it was imagined, they had given to the execution of the chant, and the instruments, as great a degree of velocity, as without doing violence to both, they were capable of attaining. This did not seem sufficient, and a little while afterwards, they invented dividing the demi-semi quavers into thirds, by which means, the movement became one part in three quicker than it was before. The extravagance of composers did not stop here, for they doubled the demi-semi quavers, and made a movement, that, for its rapidity, seems to have gone beyond the reach of imagination, which can scarce conceive, how it is possible, in the compass of a bar, to articulate or express sixty-four points. I don’t know whether before this age, any double demi-semi quavers ever appeared figured in any composition; except it was in the song of the Risuenor, which father Kircher, in the middle of the last century, caused to be printed, in the first book of his _Musurgia Universalis_; and I am even inclined to think, that solfa savours of the hyperbolic; for it is not easy to persuade me, that that bird, with all his agility and flexibility of throat, could articulate sixty-four points, in the space of raising and falling the hand, within the compass of regular time.

XXVII. I now say, this diminution of figures, instead of perfectioning music, entirely spoils and ruins it; for two reasons: the first is, that it will be very difficult to find a person, who either with the voice, or an instrument, is capable of executing points of such velocity. The before-cited father Kircher, says, that having made some compositions which were out of the common track, and of difficult execution, (though I believe they were not so difficult as those which are now the fashion) he could not find in all Rome, a singer capable of performing them. How then can you expect to find in every province, and in every cathedral, instrumental performers and singers, who, in exact time, and with the due intonation, are capable of executing these exceeding minute figures; and to this difficulty, we may likewise add, that of the many extravagant flights and jumps, which at present are the fashion also. To articulate such a solfa, requires a throat of prodigious volubility; and to express such music on an instrument, demands admirable agility, and dexterity of hand; and, therefore, such compositions are only fit for one or two very singular executionists, which may be found in this or that particular court; but they should not be printed for the use of the world at large; for the same singer, who, with a natural and easy solfa, would give pleasure to the hearers, would, by attempting these difficult passages, distract them; and from the same hand, by which a sonata, of easy execution, would sound delightsome and sweet, one of arduous difficulty would sound like the talking of gibberish.

XXIV. The second reason why this diminution of figures destroys music, is because it does not give space for the ear to perceive melody. As the delight the eye receives by a well-disposed variety of colours, could not be attained, if each was to pass the sight with so quick a motion, that it could scarce make a distinct impression on the organ, and it is the same with all sorts of visible objects; just so, if the points into which music is divided are of so short a duration, as to be incapable of acting distinctly on the ear, this organ, would not perceive harmony but confusion. Further, this second inconvenience, like the rest, is increased by the abuse, which, in their practice is committed by instrumental performers; who, although they are but slow or indifferent hands, generally make ostentation of playing with great velocity; and commonly strive to execute the sonata, with more rapidity than the composer intended, or than the character of the music requires. From whence it follows, that by a defect in the most essential part of the execution, which is precision and exactness, the music loses its true and proper genius; and the by-standers hear nothing but a confused clatter. Let every one then pursue the mode, which is suitable to his talents and abilities; for if he, who is heavy and slow of foot, endeavours to run as fast as him who is light and nimble, his whole career will be nothing but stumbles: and if he, who can only run, attempts to fly, he will soon fall, and dash himself to pieces.

XXIX. The second distinction between antient and modern music, consists in the frequency and excess of transitions in this last, from the diatonic to the chromatic and enharmonic stile; and in often changing the tones, by the introduction of sostenutos and B flats. This, as I observed before, has a good effect, if it is done with moderation and opportunely. But the Italians of this day, run to such an extravagant excess with these transitions, that they force harmony off its hinges. Whoever has any difficulty of believing this, let him, free from prejudice or partiality, consult his own ears, whenever he hears any of those sonatas or chants performed which abound much in accidentals.

XXX. The third distinction consists in the liberty which composers at present take, of mixing in their music, all sorts of modulations that occur to them; without confining themselves, either to imitation or theme. The pleasure perceived by this music, which I will take the liberty of calling loose and dishevelled, is vastly inferior to the enjoyment afforded by that beautiful regularity and contrivance, with which the masters of the last age, introduced a pleasing variety into a passage; and especially, when the music was calculated for four voices. Strangers are sensible of the high value of such compositions; nor are excellent ones of this species wanting in other countries; but composers in general, avoid writing in this stile, because the doing it well, demands more labour and study, than they are commonly disposed to take; so that if now and then they introduce, and begin pursuing a passage, they quickly leave it, and give a loose to their fancy, letting it run where it lifts. Strangers, who come to Spain, are for the most part mere executionists, and therefore not capable of forming this kind of music; because it requires more scientific knowledge, than they are generally masters of; and therefore, to conceal that they are deficient in point of ability, they endeavour to persuade people, the method of pursuing passages is out of fashion.

SECT. VIII.

XXXI. This is the species of music, with which the Italians, by the hand of their beloved master Duron, have regaled us; for he was the man, who first introduced foreign modes into the music of Spain. It is true, that since his time, these modes have been so refined, that if Duron could now rise from his grave, he would not know them; but still, the blame of all these novelties is imputable to him, for he was the first who opened the door for their introduction. Virgil’s description of the winds, may be applied to the airs of the Italian music.

_Qua data porta ruunt, & terras turbine perflant._

With regard to the science of music, we see verified in the Spaniards, with respect to the Italians, that easy condescension in admitting novelties, which Pliny lamented in the Italians themselves, with respect to the Greeks: _Mutatur quotidie ars interpolis, & ingeniorum Græciæ flatu impellimur._

XXXII. With all this, we are not without able composers in Spain, who have not totally fallen in with the fashion, or who jointly, with conforming to it, and judiciously combining the antient and modern together, have wrote some valuable and delectable pieces of grammatical music; in which, the sweetness and majesty of the old compositions has been preserved. Speaking of this, brings afresh to my memory, the savoury and luxuriant Literes; and I can’t help mentioning him a second time, for he is a composer truly original. A character of elevated sweetness, which is proper and natural to him, is resplendent in all his works, and which never forsakes him, even when he sets words to music, on amorous or profane subjects: so that even in songs of love, or comic gallantry, he preserves a kind of sublimity, which can only touch, or be felt by the superior part of the soul; this he manages with such address, that he awakes tenderness, and at the same time lulls lust to sleep. I would have this composer always employed in writing for sacred subjects: because the genius of his compositions, is better calculated to inspire celestial affections, than to foment earthly amours. If some of his music, is less impregnated with that tumultuous air and clatter, for which the works of many other authors are admired: it, for that very reason, is, in my opinion, better calculated for the use of churches; because music in them, demands a serious gravity, which should sweetly calm the mind; and not a puerile flightiness, which would excite to dance with castanets. Compositions of the last kind are very easy, and are therefore made by many; those of the first sort are difficult, and therefore but few attempt them.

SECT. IX.

XXXIII. What we have hitherto said of the irregularity and disorders of church music, does not extend to chants in the vulgar tongue only, but to psalms, masses, lamentations, and other parts of divine service, because the modes in fashion, have been introduced into them all. I have, in printed lamentations, seen the changes of the airs characterised in the same terms, which are used to describe them in comic music. Here you read _grave_, there _ayroso_, and in another place _andante_. What, can’t we admit of all the music being grave, even in a lamentation? And is it necessary to introduce light comedy airs into the representation of the most afflicting mysteries? If grief could find a place in heaven, Jeremiah would lament afresh, at seeing such music applied to his songs of mourning. Is it impossible, that in those complainings, where every letter is a sigh, corresponding with, and expressive of the various sensations, arising from the subjects of his lamentation; either the ruin of Jerusalem by the Chaldeans, the destruction of the world for sin, the affliction of the church militant for the persecution of its martyrs; and, to sum up the whole, the anguish and sufferings of our Redeemer, for the salvation of mankind. I say, can the feelings produced by such sad and distressing calamities, be expressed with airy tunes and recitatives? In the mournful songs of Jeremiah, which some expositors call the Alphabet of the Penitents, should we hear the sound of festive airs and serenades? With how much more reason than him, ought we to exclaim here in the language of Seneca, when he censured Ovid, for having introduced into the description of so tragical an event as that of Deucalion’s flood, a verse which savoured of gallantry: _Non est res satis sobria lascivire devorato orbe terrarum._ The Cythara of Nero, while Rome was burning, had not so harsh a sound, as the harmony of dances in the representation of such affecting mysteries.

XXXIV. And besides offending in this particular against the rules of reason, they sin also against the laws of music, which prescribe, that the tone of the chant, should be suited to the meaning of the words; and therefore, when the language is solemn and expressive of sorrow, the tone of the music should be grave and affecting.

XXXV. It is true, that against this rule, which is one of the most cardinal, musicians very frequently sin in all sorts of compositions, some from being deficient, and others by exceeding. Those fall into the error of deficiency, who form music without any attention to the spirit or meaning of the words to which they apply it; but hardly any fall into those gross mistakes, except such as scarce deserve the name of composers, and who are capable of doing nothing more, than racking or weaving together, shreds and strips, of the compositions of other musicians.

XXXVI. Those err by exceeding or doing too much, who regulate their music with a puerile nicety, to correspond with the distinct or separate signification of each word, taken or standing by itself, without having regard to the meaning of the whole context. An example produced by father Kircher to illustrate this abuse, will explain what I mean. He instanced the manner, in which a composer had set to music the following verse: _Mors festinat luctuosa_; to the words _mors_ and _luctuosa_, he applied a mournful solfa; but to the word _festinat_, which stood in the middle between them, as it seemed to him, to signify vivacity or quickness, he appropriated a career of allegros, that would have caused the most sluggish nag who heard them, to bound about and give cabriols.

XXXVII. I saw something as bad, or indeed even worse than this, in one of the lamentations I cited before; where to the music adapted to express the following sentence: _Deposita est vehementer non habens consolatorem_, was marked ayroso. How ill-suited is an airy movement, to express the lamentable fall of Jerusalem, and also that of all mankind bowed down and crippled with the weight of their sins; which misfortune, was aggravated with the additional and distressing circumstance, of their being destitute of comfort under the calamity? But the blame of all this, was imputable to the adverb _vehementer_, because to express vehemence, appeared to the composer to require a lively movement; and thus, when he came to that word in the sentence, he quickened his pace, and upon the adverb _vehementer_, expended in rapid notes, music to the amount of forty crotchets; but the word, in the sense it was there used, was intended to signify the same as _gravissime_, and to express with energy, the degree of grief and sadness, occasioned by the fall of Jerusalem, which, crippled and bore down with the crushing weight of its sins, came to the ground, temple, walls, and houses, all together.

XXXVIII. Nobody was more guilty of this fault, than the celebrated Duron, and he committed it to such a degree, that sometimes in the same couplet, just as the signification of the words of the verse varied, taken separately or by themselves, he would vary the affectations of the chant, six or eight times; and although it required great address and ability to do this, which he in reality was possessed of; such an exertion of his talents was ill applied.

SECT. X.

XXXIX. Some (for we would not omit to mention this) judge, that the composing music adapted to different subjects, consists much, in a right choice of the keys; and they assign one for grave subjects, another for chearful ones, and another for mournful ones, and so on; but I believe, this contributes little or nothing to the business; for there is no key whatever, in which there have not been written, very expressive and pathetic compositions, suited to excite all kinds of affections. The different place which the two semi-tones occupy in the diapason, and which is what the distinction of keys consists in, is insufficient to induce this diversity; because in whatever place an accidental is introduced, and they introduce them at every turn, this order is changed; and because various, or the most parts of the composition, by varying their terminations, fall upon, or catch the semi-tones, in a different position, from that in which they stand or are placed, with respect to the diapason. For example; although the first key-tone, which begins D solre, proceeds in this order, first a tone, then a semi-tone, after that three tones, to which there follows another semi-tone, and at last there comes a whole tone. The different traces, or minute passages of the composition, taken each by itself, do not follow this order; because one begins in the first, another in the tone which is next after it, and so on with respect to all the other parts of the diapason, and they terminate wherever the composer likes best; by which means, in every trace or minute passage of the composition, the position of the semi-tones is varied, as much, as in the different diapasons, which constitute the diversity of the keys.

XL. What confirms me in this sentiment, that the suiting music to produce a grave or a sprightly effect, does not depend upon the choice of the key it is wrote in, is, that the greatest musicians, are much divided in their opinions upon this point. What one considers as a lively key, another thinks a mournful one; what one esteems a devout key, another calls a flighty one. The two great jesuits, father Kircher, and father Dechales, are so opposite in their sentiments upon this head, that the same key, which father Kircher characterizes in this manner, _Harmoniosus, magnificus, & regia majestate plenus_, father Dechales speaks thus of: _Ac tripudia, & choreas est comparatus, diciturque propterea lascivus_; and they differ little less, in their assignation of the characters of many other keys, if not of all.

XLI. The foregoing, should be understood to relate and apply to the essential difference of keys, which consists, in the diversity of position of the semi-tones in the diapason; but not to their accidental difference; which, consists, in their being taken higher or lower. This may conduce something to create effect; because the same music, set in low notes, which is religious and grave, transposed to high ones, loses of its majesty, and acquires a degree of vivacity, that is ill suited to a solemn subject: and for this reason, I am of opinion, that the movements of church music should not be very quick: because, by hurrying the voices in the chant, they occasion them to sound harsh; and besides this, prevent that easy play and flexibility of throat, which is necessary to produce the effect the music requires; and which many times consists, or is contained in the intonations; I say further, that over and above these inconveniences, music composed of quick movements, and set in high notes, is not so well calculated to move the affections of respect, devotion, and piety, as that which is written in lower tones, and marked to be performed in slower time.

SECT. XI.

XLII. For the same reason, I am against the introduction of violins into churches. St. Thomas, in the place I before cited, objects to the admitting any kind of instruments in the church; and the reason he gives for the objection is, that the sensible delight which the instrumental music occasions, hinders devotion. But it is not easy to reconcile this reasoning, with what the saint says in another place, to wit, that the delight perceived by the air, excites weak spirits to devotion; and he, in the same place, approves of the use of musical instruments in synagogues, because the Jews being a hard and carnal people, there is a necessity for having recourse to such means, to provoke and stir them to piety. At least then for people of this stamp, musical instruments in churches would be very serviceable; and there being a great many of that disposition who frequent churches; consequently, the instruments would be found exceedingly useful. Besides, I can’t comprehend, how the sensible delight which instrumental music occasions, should induce to devotion those who on account of their hardness are little disposed to it, and obstruct it in those whose hearts are more inclined to divine worship.

XLIII. I acknowledge and confess, that it is much more easy for me to misunderstand St. Thomas, than for St. Thomas to advance any thing that is wrong: but after all, the universal practice of the whole church authorizes the use of instruments; and the only difficulty or disagreement, seems to rest in the choice of them. I for my own part think, that violins are improper in that sacred theatre; their shrill notes, although harmonious, are still shrill, and excite a puerile vivacity in our spirits, very different from that decent attention, which is due to the majesty of mysteries; and especially in these times, when those who compose for violins, studiously write their music so high, that he who is to execute it, can scarce forbear striking the bridge of the instrument with his fingers.

XLIV. There are many other instruments much fitter to be used in churches than violins, their tones being much more respectful and grave; such as the harp, the violincello, and the harpsichord; neither would the inconvenience of the want of trebles in the instruments be felt, by leaving out the violins, but rather, the music by the omission would appear more majestic, which is what is most required in churches. The organ is an admirable instrument; or, to speak more properly, many instruments comprized in one. It is true, that the organists, when they are so disposed, can make a sort of pipe and tabor of it; and it is also true, that this disposition seems to come upon them pretty frequently.

SECT. XII.

XLV. It would not be foreign, but rather very consonant to the object of our present criticism, to say something in this place of the poetry, to which they give the epithet of divine, and which is composed to be sung in churches, I may without temerity, venture to pronounce, that poetry in Spain, is in a worse state of perdition than music. The number of those who write couplets is infinite, but none of them are poets. If I was to be asked, which are the most difficult of all arts, I should answer, medicine, poetry, and oratory: and if I was also to be asked, which are the most easy; I should answer, oratory, poetry, and medicine. There is no student, who, if he takes a fancy to it, does not write verses. All the religious who mount the pulpit, and all the doctors who have studied and practised physic, find their partizans: but where will you meet with the truly able physician, the compleat poet, or the perfect orator?

XLVI. Our most learned monk _Don John de Mabillon_, in his Treatise on Monastic Studies, says, that an excellent poet is a very rare treasure, and I agree with him in sentiment; for upon strict examination, where, among the numbers of poetical essays that are published, will you meet with any one, which (omitting many other requisite qualities) is natural, sublime, sweet and pointed; and at the same time, ingenious, and clear; brilliant without affectation, sonorous without turgidity, and harmonious without impropriety; that runs without hobbling, is delicate without affectation, forcible without harshness, beautiful without paint or strained colouring, noble without presumption, and copious and comprehensive without obscurity? I will almost venture to pronounce, that he who would find a poet capable of writing verses in this stile, should seek for him in the regions inhabited by the Phœnix.