INFLUENCE OF MUSIC
ON
HEALTH AND LIFE.
PART I.
CHAPTER ID
General reflections on the melodic and harmonic character
of music among different nations.-Influence of the
tone of the voice.
E VERY nation has a music and a song of its
own. All, without exception, according to
their taste, their talent, and their customs, have
made use of the organs with which they have
been endowed by nature, and of the instruments
invented by their own ingenuity.
Among primitive nations, music, having neither rules nor laws, consisted only of melody,
which is a succession of sounds gratifying to the
I'




10                  MUSIC.
ear; it is a pleasure of emotion and of sentiment, addressed to the heart.
Harmony is. a music of science and combination. It is the result of several sounds heard at
once, which produce what we call accord. It
affords a pleasurable sensation which is addressed to the understanding.
As to rhythm, one of the three elements which
are found in nature, it pervades all melody and
imparts character to it.  Martianus Capella, a
compiler of the fifth century, wrote at that time:
"Melody is the female, rhythm  the male."  For
us, melody is the sketch, harmony the coloring,
and rhythm the character."
Music is not the same among all nations.
Climate, customs, habits, a certain degree of
refinement or of civilization, all impress the tones
of melody with various characters.
Northern nations express themselves very
differently from those of the south, while eastern
nations have quite another music from those of
the west.
The exposition of i867, that immense car



GENERAL REFLECTIONS.             I I
avansary, where all nations elbowed each other,
that vast ca/zarano'um  where the most diverse
objects were crowded  together pell-mell, has
afforded us samples of the music of many nations. To our ears the Chinese music, although
executed by Parisian artists, seemed nothing but
barbarous discord.
The Arabian music, harsh and nasal, made
our very flesh creep.
The character of the music of any nations.its manner of producing tones, of sustaining, of.seizing, and of dropping them, as well as the!intonations and inflections of the voice, can, up,to a certain point, give an idea of its intelbigence, manners, and  customs.  They are the;thermometer of its physical sensitiveness -and,,moral sentiments.
The degree of civilization in a nation, the vari(us epochs of its growth, the kind of government'which it has developed, or which has been imposed'apon it, the manner in which it is conducted, and
its social conditions, are so many causes for variet.ies of melodic character.




12                 MlIUSIC.
Savage nations have but one kind of music.;
that of nature.  Civilized nations have two: the
popular or national, which always preserves (in
spite of all the changes wrought upon it by science)
a cettain flavor of the national soil (if I may be
allowed this expression), and the music of the socalled cultivated circles. One is simple or lively,
gay, melancholy, or dreamy, just in accordance
with the character of the nation: the other on the
contrary is studied and formal, soft and tender, or
stiff and harsh, according to the ways and habits
of those among whom it is cultivated.  Compare
the popular songs of Brittany, of the Vosges, of the
Pyrenees, of Auvergne, with those of Paris, and you
will be struck by the difference of the melodies.'lihe inhabitants of mountainous districts have a
different accent from those living in level countries, and the Danes, Swedes, and Russians do not
singl like the Italians, Spaniards, or Portuguese.
Education, no matter how powerfully it may affect
the melody of a people, can never quite destroy its
national character.  In Italy, for instance, in that
classical land of musical science, where harmonic




GENERAL REFLECTIONS.              13
combinations have been studied and used, with infinite skill, where all the inhabitants, of every class
and of every degree of cultivation, sing the Arias
of Rossini,. Bellini, Donizetti, and Verdi, the popular songs, even in the various provinces,'are all
marked by-peculiar characteristics.  The popular
song of Rome differs as much from that of Naples,
as the Canzonetta of Venice differs from that of
Florence; but the sallaredlos, laran/zeiles, barcearolcs,
songs which are essentially national always preserve a certain wild and fascinating originality.
The influence of climate upon the tones of melody is peculiar, imparting to them a certain individual character, which  never varies.  Music
expressive of languor and of love, of sweet and
tender melancholy, belongs exclusively to warm
climates; cold climates inspire music expressive
of martial ardor, and of conquest, while lively arid
graceful music is heard mostly in temperate cliVmates.
The Frenchman, gay, witty, and capricious,
when he can abandon himself to the ernotionls of
his happy nature; when not wholly absorbed by




I~k4'G~~MUSIC.
the preoccupations of his material and social surroundings; when not crushed by the hand of
tyranny or despotism; wahen, in short, he finds himself in the full enjoyment of his rights and liberties-the Frenchman loves his merry song. His
melodies are short, airy, and gay. The German,
on the contrary, calm, phlegmatic, speculative, gives
to his phrases more vagueness, more poesy, more
of the ideal. His Lieder are stamped with a
shade of reverential melancholy, and symphonies
are works for which he has a special predilection.
"' The Italians," said Gretry, "breathe forth their
melodies with a sigh, because they feel too keenly:
the Germans sigh for the voluptuous sensations,
for which they long."
The Englishman sings as he lives; he is positive, stubborn, and formal. His melodies are as
poetical as a coin of a hundred sous, passionate
and exciting as his steam engines, cheerful as his
own dark leaden sky, clear and flowing as the
waters of the Thames. When he sings, not a
smile ever graces his lips, not the slightest contraction disturbs the fixedness of his countenance,




GENERAL REFLECTIONS.              15
not even a spark of enthusiasm accelerates the
beating of his heart.
If, then, it were only granted us to know tihe
character of the music, above all, of the popular or
national songs of the races who have preceded us,
it would be easy for us to reproduce their history,
to discover their habits and customs, to apprehend
their character, and to form an estimate of their'
intelligence, their dispositions, their natural talent
for fine arts and the sciences; in short, to appr-;
ciate the general bent of their minds.
If we pass from these general reflections to
particular ones, we shall remark that every living
species is gifted with a voice and song peculiar to
itself. The voice, the direct means of disclosing
one's inmost thoughts, deepest sentiments, and
warmest affections, is capable of the greatest
variety of tone among the human species. Nevertheless, no matter how great the variations may be,
the tone of the voice always gives expression to
the sensations, emotions, and passions.
As all the world knows, voices are sharp, deep,
true, false, clear or muffled; but spite of these




I 6                MUSIC.
varieties, the human voice has its own peculiar,
individual -character. Man can indeed, up to a
certain point, alter his voice or imitate that of a
majority of animals; but, however much he may
study, however great may be his perseverance and
his power of imitation, he will never succeed in
completely changing it. It is the same with animals. The parrot, the magpie, and a few other
birds, can indeed, after patient teaching, be made
to imitate speech and the human voice, but never
so perfectly as to deceive a practised ear. In the
human species, the imitation of the tone and inflection of the voice of one individual by another, is
often very remarkable and quite unstudied. Two
persons, a man and woman for instance, living
constantly together, can adopt each other's intonations, but these same intonations, creating such
surprise in ordinary conversation, will disappear
very suddenly, if expression is to be given to the
passions or any deep emotions; at such times,
every one resumes the tone of voice which belongs
to him, individually. Nature preserves its originality, at all times, under all circumstances. The




TONE OF THE VOICE.              17
seal which she has imprinted upon every being, is
never so thoroughly effaced that the individuality
of any one can be permanently lost.
Among animals, the tone and variety of voice
are manifested in a manner still more marked than
is the case with the human species.  WTith thenmthe tone and diversity of voice are so extraordinary, so marvellous even, that the sensations and
emotions with which they inspire us are unspeakable and indescribable. Let us picture to ourselves, for a moment, a man whose powers are all
fully developed, except that he has never heard or
conceived of any sound, and fancy him placed all
at once in the rmidst of numerous animals of different species, all of whom are made to sing or scream;,
and then that he is suddenly gifted with the sense
of hearing; what sensations would he not experience in listening for the first time to the confused
noise which now suddenly strikes his ear? ~With
what terror would he not be inspired at the bellowing of the bull, the neighing of the horse, and
even the braying of the innocent donkey? Wvitlh
what sweet emotion would he not be filled at thie




MUSIC.
melodious song of the linnet or the nightingale?
How could he ever endure, in short, the sound of
all the voices to which we have become gradually
accustomed, either by  habit or education.  It
would require much time, as well as close application, before he could even distinguish the voice of
each species. The pig grunts, the lion roars, the
clove coos, the frog croaks, the dog barks, the cat
mews, the raven caws, the sheep bleats; birds do
not hiss like serpents, the canary and the goldfinch do not sing like the nightingale.'The variety and diversity of voices has been a
subject of special interest to a large number of students. 1By the voice, the song of animals, the
various species can be recognized and distinguished; according to the tone of the human voice
it has been deemed possible even to determine
the moral character of an individual, his tastes,
instincts, and  passions.  Could this study be
based-on fixed principles, on irrefutable observation, it might have the happiest influence on our
action in life, and our social relations, but unfortunately, up to the present time it remains a mere




TONE OF THE VOICE.              19.
theory, simply a subject of vague conjecture, about
which savants, even those of the earliest ages, have
always maintained fruitless discussion.
Plato, who passed his whole life in study,
investigation, and teaching, had the habit, we are
told, of making any man whom it was his interest
to know well, read or talk with him in a loud
voice. The quality of the voice, the intonations,
the inflections of the speaker or reader, were to
the philosopher so many indications, if not certain,
at least probable ones, of his moral character,
And, in our own time, Gr'try, in his " Essays on
Music," asserts that he has never been mistaken in
the opinion he has formed of individuals who had
said nothing more to him than " Good-day, sir," or
"Good-morning, my friend." According to the intonation with which these words were spoken, the
great musician assumed to guess with whom he
had to deal, and regulated his conduct in accordance with the impression he had thereby received.
"A' Good-morning' is almost always sufficient to enable me," said he, "to appreciate in
general the pretension or the simplicity of a man.




20                  MUSIC.
In conversation a man often hides his real character from us, either through politeness or duplicity, but he has not quite learned'how to disguise
the intonations of his voice.  This' Good-day,
sir,' and' Good-morning, my friend,' put to music
with their exact intonations, would show what a
power vanity is, and how quickly the key changes
lnhen its influence ceases to be the ruling one."
One need not be Plato or Gretry, indeed, to
form some estimate of an individual by the intonations of his voice, and it is above all, in the
present age of versatility and prejudice, of humility
and arrogance, of ambition and servility, of self
depreciation and vanity, of impudence and modesty, of timidity and boldness, that a "good-day,
sir," or " Good-morning, my friend," may enable
us to fathom the very soul of him who utters it.
It is the quality of tone that makes the music,
according to an old saying, and " sir," "' my friend,"
"yes," " no," spoken in a certain manner, often
express more to us than a hundred words.
It is not only of the intentions of people that
judgment has been formed from merely listening




TONE OF THE VOICE.                21
to the tones of the voice, but it is even assured
that their tastes, their instincts, and inclinations
may be thus discovered.  In order to attain this
result, rules have been given which are said to be
invariable.
A clergyman by the name of Kircher has write
ten a folio in Latin on this subject, and the book.
is as confusing to read as it is heavy to carry. Its
title is " Musurgia universalis." In it he says
(remember that I neither claim to agree with, noi
be responsible for what I am about to repeat, f.-:
reverend gentlemen of ancient times, not unlil,(e
those of our own, often gave utterance to word_.:
which  cannot  be  accepted  as  gospel-trzi//)'" Those who have a deep sonorous voice, like thli
of a donkey (excuse the comparison) are indiscreet, and quarrelsome." According to the original.' Asinus  admodum   magnam   vocem  habet  ce
gravem, ut asiizus indiscretus, uft pe/ulans et co/.zimeliosus; ergo, quoruzm manlza et igravis vox E,;il/i suntpelulantes, indiscreti, contumeliosi." "Those
who have a sharp, thin, and husky voice, are weals
effeminate, and easily yield to low passions."




22                  M~IUSIC.
"c A full, abrupt voice denotes a strong, impulsive, bold, enterprising man.'The voice whose tone is weak, beside being
sharp and drawling, gives evidence of a character
lacking in energy and firmness; so, persons gifted
with such a voice are timid, patient, having no will
of their own, no marked individuality. Not sensitive to injuries, they preserve no recollection of
them, and never seek revenge.
"' Men with a powerful, deep voice are generally cowardly.  Haughty with their inferiors, they
are insolent in prosperity, but faint-hearted in
adversity. So it was with Caligula, according to
Tracitus.
"' Those individuals whose voice, deep at first,
is raised to a high key as they finish speaking, are
noisy, irritable, and of unhappy dispositions.
"' Lastly. Those whose voice is thin and shrill,
are peevish, ill-tempered, passionate, possessing
characteristics closely resembling those of a goat."
HI-ave these remarks of Kircher all the worth with
which their author attempts  to  endow  them?
Could the surroundings in which he lived have




TONE OF THE VOICE.              23
furnished enough examples to enable him to establish his theory; could the great and small passions
which hold their sway in the cloister and in the
religious world, or the jealous rivalries which are
kindled by the ardor of faith, or the hatred often
hidden by humility of demeanor, of looks, or of
words, have given fit opportunity to the reverend
father for the remarks and principles that he has
here put forth? This I am not prepared to say.
As to ourselves, since our attention was first fixed
on this point, it has not been possible for us to
form an opinion of any value, in the matter. Let
us rather allow each one the privilege of verifying for himself the exactness of the facts which
have just been related, and for the truth of which we
are not prepared to vouch. If now we are to study
the ton  of the voice among individuals, for the
sake of drawing our deductions and anticipating
consequences, we must consider man when in a
serene state of body and mind; otherwise we
should risk making serious mistakes, and committing grave errors. We know well all the changes
and modifications of which the voice is capalleic




:+                n MUSIC.
owhen the passions are roused, or the soul is deeply
moved.
Fear and weakness cause it to lower, astonishment makes it abrupt, admiration prolongs it,
anger is expressed in hoarse tones, joy in full, rich
ones, hope speaks in a firm, even voice, desire, in
hurried events, and long exclamations mark the
beginning of conversation.
In a time happily long before our own, in an
age which to the honor of all humanity will never
return, the voice of those wretches destined to
become singers of the Sistine Chapel was changed
by mutilation of the human body. The Popes,
representatives of a good and merciful God, did
not shudder at a crime so odious that it might be
called treason to all that the word hZumaniiy suggests, and if they did not encourage, at least
countenanced human sacrifices which might have
even roused the jealousy of Pagan gods. The
unhappy victims did not all die; but mutilated,
rendered effeminate, condemned  henceforth to
know no joy, no pleasure, they were destined to
lead a sad and desolate life, to which death




TONE OF THE VOICE.            25
would have been preferable. Time and civilization have happily visited justice on such crimes,
and if any such mutilated beings are still to be
found in the papal choir, it is only through fraud,
or owing to the ambition of unnatural parents.
The voice, tile bond of union in the social and
political world, and the direct means of expressing thought, has an important influence on all the
relations of life, and is all-powerful in moving
large assemblies. Eloquence, according to many
authors, whose opinion I share unreservedly, is
based on the quality of this vocal organ. The
most eloquent orator is, then, supposing this idea
to be the true one, he who speaks in the most
fitting tones, musically considered.
J. J. Rousseau has recently lent the support of
his opinion to the same view. He says, "The
diverse sensations which we experience from music and eloquence, which is only spoken music, or
recitative (if I may be allowed this expression),
depend upon a multitude of causes; their source
may be traced to an infinite variety of reasons;
one of them, the most powerful, and the most
2




26                  MUSIC.
irrefutable, is, without doubt, the agreeable concord of the harmony. Do we not all recognize
what an exquisite pleasure the ear receives from a
consonance, while dissonances seem to grate, as it
were, on the tympanum, and affect it painfully.
Now, if agreeable sounds, followed by a series
of other agreeable sounds, have the power of
pleasing any sense-that of hearing, for instance
-the pleasure results from this succession of
concordant sounds. Why is it thus? It is as
difficult to tell as it would be to say why rose
color is more pleasing than gray, and why the
odor of vanilla is more agreeable than that of
the marigold."
" If, then, an orator addresses his audience in
discordant tones, far from producing gratification,
from pleasing or fascinating them, and rousing
them to enthusiasm, he will only inspire them with
uncomfortable, even painful sensations; he will
repel rather than attract them."
But afine voice is not the only requisite for an
orator. According to some authors the voice need
never be raised more than a fifth in order to




TONE OF THE VOICE.            27
produce excitement; its compass would be limited,
then to the distance, for instance, from C to G.
Each one of these notes would have special
fitness for language or conversation.
The C would be appropriate for explanations.
The D for the clear utterance of vowel sounds.
The E for the tender passions.
The F for arousing to action.
The G for expressing all that pertains to the
pathetic.
Had these observations been known and applied in ancient Greece, among the flute-players
whose duty it was to accompany or support the
orators, would they have served to define to them
always the most fitting tone for their harangues?
Numerous facts lead me to believe so. In Italythat classical land of improvisation, of poesy and
music —T have often heard ini5rovisatore, not such
as speak in the open air and in public places, but
those really worthy of the name, accompanied on
an instrument, played either by themselves or
others, the modulations being all within the interval of a fifth; and in this connection I recall an




28                 MUSIC.
incident which ought to be mentioned here: At
a meeting of the Tiberian Academy in Rome, a
young woman of equal talent and modesty, Rosa
Taddei, improvised for a whole evening on various
subjects furnished from among her numerous listeners. This young woman directed the artist
who was to accompany her on the piano, as to
what kind of modulation, and in what rhythm to
play, in order to render music that would be most
fitting to the style and character of the subject.
The modulations never went above the fifth; the
accompaniment was as appropriate to the subject
and rhythm of the verses, as if it originated from
the same source. Sometimes tender and melancholy, sometimes angry and impassioned, the
young poefessa fascinated her audience, and received applause justly due to her wonderful talent. The influence of accompaniments on inspiration, and on the effects which can be produced
by music, is of immense importance. Therefore
all true masters of art spare no effort in the treatment of this powerful auxiliary.
Gretry, whose competency to judge on the sub



TONE OF THE VOICE.              29
ject is undeniable, gives, in his " Essays on Music,"
some advice which is not only very useful to
professional musicians, but instructive and full of
interest to amateurs and all appreciative lovers of
music.
"The composer," he says, "will produce his
work with such shading as may be fitting to his
auditorium, but his heart will always prompt the
most natural melodies. Without paying much attention to details he will build the structure of his
composition on a broad foundation; he will base his
melody and harmony on the groundwork of human
emotions; by a variety of shading, he will understand how to show the difference between gratified
and expectant, or jealous and trustful love. The
love of money will not be expressed by the same
sounds as the love of dissipation, and the love
for the creature will be breathed forth in other
accents from those used to express love of the
Creator."
" These various shades of the same passion
form  what might be called the details, and the
more closely the composer is able to approach




30                 MUSIC.
truth in the expression of the various sentiments,
so much the nearer will he be to perfection.
"The success of a musical composition depends upon this truthfulness of touch, if I may be
allowed the expression. Upon this truthfulness,
too, may be said to depend all the sentiments and
emotions which are experienced by the audience.
The nearer his composition approaches nature, the
more his audience will be excited and fascinated.
"A young girl," continues Gretry, " may assure
her mother that she has never yet felt love; but
while she affects indifference through the means of
a simple, monotonous song, the orchestra may express the distress of her already enamored heart.
A jealous lover makes long pauses between his
strains; the more he fears to accuse his beloved
wrongfully, the more emphatically he utters his
proud and haughty tones."
" He often uses the chromatic scale, which is
sad and at the same time sinister: sad for the
jealous man who seeks to arouse our interest, and
suggestive of misfortune for those who listen to
him, and above all for her who is the object of his




TONE OF THE VOICE.              3 
jealous suspicion.  In  general, the sentiment
should be made known only through the singing;
the action and general character should be expressed by the accompaniments" (Gretry, Essais
sur la Musique, tome ii., p. I4).
This advice, essentially practical, has been and
is still often followed by many composers; in the
overture to "Francs-Juges " by Berlioz, this energetic and fanciful musician, too little appreciated,
and far too much criticised, has the violins go
through a series of chromatic scales, ascending and
descending with startling effect; it is almost like
hearing the very sobs and groans of the victims.
The shading in accompaniments is not wholly due
to inspiration, it is the result of science; therefore
the ancients, who found the art of music an unbroken field, marched with hesitating steps.
Uncertain, and groping, as it were, they increased and diminished, hurried or slackened, the
sounds which they produced by means of their
voice or their instruments, just according to feeling. Therefore their accompaniments are marked
by extreme simplicity; they are often lacking in




32                 MU SIC.
power and force. Our modern composers, on the
contrary, keeping pace with the science as it is
day by day brought nearer perfection, obtain from
the treatises on harmony and orchestration, rules
and precepts which they enlarge and enrich by the
power of their own genius. The effects which are
thus produced, often astonish and sometimes excite
us. Of what effort has the human mind not been
capable? How many attempts and failures has it
not passed through before it succeeded in creating
these scientific, though not always agreeable combinations?: It is by investigating from the earliest
beginnings, that we shall recognize all the phases,
all the transformations, all the metamorphoses of'
this sublime and admirable  art of combining
sounds. Let us then cast a rapid glance at the
origin and history of music.




CH-APT'ElR  II.
History of music. —Its character as depending on the physical and moral condition of the races.
IT seems to me impossible to assign a positive
and settled origin to music.  This art, like all
other arts in which the ideal plays the principal
r'le, can have no fixed beginning.
As soon as man perceived that he could utter
sounds, and impart different intonations and shli.dings to his voice, he might be expected, accordinog
to the circumstances under which he was placed,
and the passions with which he was moved, to
create a music. It was, without doubt, irregular,
without form, not governed by any laws, more or
less harmonious, and having melody, fanciful or
wild-but still, it existed.
Full of emotion rather than thought, and in
this respect differing from the other arts, music
springs not only from the deep and inmost senti



534                  1MUSIC.
ments that touch our soul, but from our love for
imitating nature.
W'heln thCo,c-~.a - er.le  l.!e-!lappv infl-uences,
when a1. m.?.?. 1lVa'',o:.`rI'cra.wn to?;et l'Der by i na.lturi1 lov-e   "."' \ i.;].... t coulcld e-ei' t!he tones
of the i-oice or ivy languaoe the feelinuos of their
soul, they cer-Lainly gave  utteranice to a series of
sounds, which, though the individuals were unconscious of it, formed  a melody, tlat is a song.
These sounds, and this language, were more or less
harmonious, more or less rhythmical.
Attentive to all sounds, observers listened to
the harmonies of nature, and attempted to imitate
tllen.  The rustlin-; of the -windc i- ith  woods3 the
_murnmuri-n g of t  bci-: broo' I I' lO?,  rorinl oI the tempest.'-sxhau'stless sources of sentiments and emotions,
furnished endless material.  The excitenient of
feeling, the exaltation of thought, the rapid movement of instinct and passion, all gave evidence of
the effects produced by harmony, or by numerous
lnd varied  tones.   Constantly  analyzing  with
more care his feelings and emotions, man sought
ltheir cause, and being naturally given to iimtation*,




HilSTORY OF UMUSIC.,2
he attempted to utter by means of his voice or
instruments, though very imperfectly, no doubLt
the sounds and noises that had reached his ear.
In his analysis he brought reflection and menm —
ory to his aid, and recalling his inmost and sweetest emotions, endeavored to reproduce the sounds
that had brought then about; thlelrefore, I have
no douL Vbutl- tt  his fir-:t'.t 5so,, Os  were those of
ple::srl'c,  Sio)rl-Wo~ Ia eo, ilaes:  d lorve.'Lntili then
he h1iad been a      lsl:wei.i Ale only to his own conscience,
so to speik: but soon becoming less absorbed in
himself, and growing forgetful of his individuality,
he became aware of all his surroundings.  He
raised his eyes to Heaven; the sun, the moon, the
stars, the glorious firmament, the harmony of
nature, and  its countless sounds, filled him with
reflections.  Plunged into a delicious melancholy,
blessed with a calm  spirit, leading a tranquil and
quiet life, he asked himself if all that he saw had
been created especially for him, and what powerful mind had ordained this gorgeous sight which
he now witnessed.  Ie worshipped what he could
not understand;  he bowed down before the star




36                  MUSIC.
that he saw appear and disappear on the horizon
at fixed times; the idea, then, of a power greater
than his own first crept into his soul, and inspired
hnim with songs of wonder and admiration, of gratitude and veneration.  He sang religious airs
before even having a religion.
Trghis first period of calmness and repose could
not last long; the trials and struggles of life soon
took the place of this childlike tranquillity which
amounted almost to indifference. The passions
were developed, and at the same time rivalry,
jealousy and hatred.
People were formed into tribes or clans, and
all the passions sprang up together, simultaneously.  Then music, its nature closely allied to
that of human emotions, speaking directly to the
sentiments and thoughts, touching and exciting
the heart, animating the spirit-the reflection of
all that we understand by Azmazn nature-assumed
new forms.
Certainly, if it were possible to restore the
music of races as it was at the time of their earliest beginnings, it would hbe easy for us to write




ITS CIIARACTERI.              37
their history, to ascertain what were their moral
faculties, the tendencies of their mind, their character, their manners and customs.  It would be
easier for us to form this estimate, than if we had
to treat of free and independent nations. In fact,
the greater the liberty enjoyed by a people, the
more character does their song have.  Music, at
all times and in all countries, bears the seal of
independence, servitude, misery, or happiness,
according to the condition of the nation which
cultivates it.  Among people pressed by want,
exposed to the horrors of famine or destitution, or
surrounded by enemies, songs of war, vengeance,
and extermination, escape from  throbbing breasts
and hearts embittered by misfortune; then the
tones are wild, savage, harsh and fierce.  They
are the fearful expression of passions excited by
distress or misery.
The tones of sorrow, grief and remorse, are
heard later; for sadness and remorse presuppose
the development of moral faculties, of affectional
emotions, of friendship, fidelity and devotion;
in short, a relative civilization.   Can nations,




38                 MUSIC.
whose very existence is precarious, who are daily
forced to put forth every exertion to ward off
ever-threatening destruction, experience gentle
and tender emotions? I think not.
We should bear in mind that what has just
been said of the growth of primitive music is
based on no authentic fact, document, or tradition. We must proceed by inference and reflection, for no spark has shed the smallest light on
the obscurity and darkness of the artistic life of
the early nations, that is, of nations devoid of
civilization.
Little by little we are approaching the time
when we shall be able to restore some traditions,
some fragments, almost obscured it is true, but
still easily enough recognized, to enable us to
advance with more certainty in our investigations
and to discover some vestiges of the art which
forms the subject of our work.
If we wish to study the origin of the arts and
sciences, we must look toward the East. There,
palpable traces of some kind may be found, pertaining to an art which cannot have had any spe



ITS CHARACTER.               39
cial inventor, since it is, as I have said, the result
of the imitation and observation of physical phenomena, which every one can understand.
No one doubts that the people of India, Persia,
and China were the first to establish rules for the
language of music, and to determine the series of
sounds which constitute the scale. A Chinese
legend, charmingly related by a critic, Scudo,
whose works are full of learning, and give evidence
of keen observation, will show how this musical
scale was formed.
" Under the reign of I know not what emperor,
who lived B. C. 2600," says this amiable critic.
" the prime-minister was ordered to put an end
to the confusion existing in the musical scale.
Obedient to his master, the minister went upon a
high mountain which was covered with a bamboo
forest. He took one of the canes, cut it between
two knots, took out the marrow that filled it, and
blowing  in the reed thus emptied, a sound came
forth which was neither higher nor lower than the
tone which was natural to him when he spoke withozut being agitated by anzy passion."




40                AMUSIC.
"Thus the generating sound of the series was
determined. While the minister pursued other
experiments necessary to attain the end he had in
view, a couple of birds, male and female, came
and perched on a neighboring tree. The male
began to sing, and uttered six sounds; the female,
when replying to him, was heard to utter six
others, and it happened that the twelve sounds
formed together the twelve degrees of the chromatic scale. The minister, profiting by the lesson
he had just received, cut twelve canes of a length
necessary to produce the twelve semitones, or
chromatic degrees which are  contained in an
octave."
This fable, a charming fiction, which concerns
the theory of music as well as the physical construction of the scale of sounds, contains fundamental truth, confirmed later by searching experiments.
Pythagoras, in ancient times, pursuing, with
his well-known zeal and persistence, the idea with
which he was entirely absorbed, that of reducing
all human knowledge to a mathematical basis,




ITS CHARACTER.               41
subjected the phenomena of sonorous bodies to a
strict calculation.  He calculated the number and
relative value of the vibrations, and established
the absolute correctness of the intervals contained
within the limits of an octave, which led Leibnitz
to say, later, "Music is a calculation which the
soul makes unconsciously, in secret."
The Egyptians, Hebrews and Jews have left
us positive and unmistakable proofs of the existence of a music governed by rules and subject to
fixed laws and principles.
The melodies of these nations have not come
down to us, but the sculptures on their monuments, the representation of some of their instruments cut on their propylea and obelisks are, no
doubt, physical and palpable proofs of the existence of a music. This music, in. our opinion,
must have been well regulated, because the Egyptians, who were keen observers, eminent as calculators, skilled in astronomy and mlathematics, could
not have helped giving a rhythm and measure
to the art, making laws, establishing fixed and
definite principles, or even writing treatises on




42                 MUSIC.
harmony. Unfortunately we possess no written
record, but here conjecture amounts almost to
certainty.
The Greeks, disciples and imitators of the
Egyptians, followed for a very long time the traditions handed down by their predecessors. Their
music, simple melody, presents nothing new, startling, or original. Considered as a mere embellishment of poetry, as a help to language, as a
guide to orators, rather than as an absolute and
independent science, it remained stationary.  But
very soon the luxury of the people, their tendency
to the production of literary work, their brilliant
imagination always ready to imprint a poetic tinge
on all the subjects which they considered or discussed, made them shake off, in their efforts, the
yoke of tradition and routine.  Starting from this
grand and noble principle, that all the arts tend
to soften and perfect the manners of a people, the
Greeks, sensitive to the harmony of language, and
to the rhythm of speech, turned their attention
to poetry and eloquence. Measure and accent in
poetry, like rhythm  in eloquence, which can be




ITS CHARACTER.               43
accelerated or slackened at the will of the poet,
and according to the expression of the idea and
the character of the passions, were regulated by
the order of the syllables, and admirably aided a
language, the euphony of which was its greatest
charm. Poetry, which is already harmony, was
to receive a new impetus from the powerful auxiliary, music.
The philosophers, and they were numerous,
were the first to profit by the resources at hand,
in melody and rhythm, in order to set forth their
ideas in a more imposing and seductive manner.
Wishing to harmonize the intellect and faculties
of the soul, by fascinating the senses, they made
use of the means above-mentioned for inciting
the heart to laudable action, and for implanting
there germs of' morality.
Noble actions, high ideas, found worthy expression in strains of poetry and music, and the
lives of illustrious men, the exploits of heroes,
and exhortations to virtue, were written in Averse
and sung in public. Flute players accompanied
the tragedies of Sophocles andl Euripides, and the




44                AMUSIC.
comedies of Aristophanes more than once borrowed the pith of their epigrams from the instruments that accompanied them.
As civilization advanced, human passions were
gradually developed. New wants arose, and demanded hitherto unknown resources, the invention
of musical instruments was then required, which
would be more powerful and better adapted to give
expression to various sentimlents, higher thoughts,
and a greater variety of ideas. The te/-ac/a-ord
formed, as its name indicates, of four tones or
degrees, was the extent of the musical scale,
and the only variety possible consisted in the
order in which these four degrees followed each
other. The three principal mzodes, (equivalent to
what are called ke.ys at the present day;) the
Dorian, Phrygian, and Lydian, were distinguished
by the place that the semitone occupied in the
tetrachord; but being very limited and therefore
incapable of expressing the passions and sentiments which, as has just been said, were constantly
assuming new  forms and different aspects, the
original musical instrument was enlarged: higher




ITS CHARACTE \R.              45
and lower tones were added.  The extent of the
musical scale, which, as should here be mentioned,
had never consisted of the natural octave, but of
the tetrachord, was increased by a succession of
tetrachords, a succession which imparted a peculiar character to the scales or keys.
The three original mzodes were extended.  The
"Dorian" was serious and grave, suitable for
religious subjects, and according to Plato, who
used it in his " Republic," adapted to the cultivation of good manners.
The " Phrygian," the character of which was
ardent, proud, impulsive, vehement, and terrible,
was used for military music, and found expression
mostly in trumpets.
The "'Lydian" was animated and piercing,
but still rather inclined to softness.  To these
mzordes were added three others; the Ionz/a, _c E So/itan, and Mixo/jd/an.  These new mzodes were in
reality only mixtures of the three others, their
founders; but they added to the extent of the harmonic system, they formed the basis of new cormbinations, and furnished artists with mnore powcr



46                   MUSIC.
ful means for setting forth their ideas, and expressing their thoughts; before an audience, writh more
certainty  and exactness.  Later, several modes
were again  addedl: the Hyper-Dorian, HyperLydian, Hyper-Phrygian, Hypo-Dorian, HypoLydian, and Hypo-Phrygian.* But each one has
characteristics peculiarly its own.
Tihese  various  modifications, though  they
afforded increased resources to the art of music,
were still far from  satisfactory, for, as before suggested, with the advance of civilization came a
corresponding growth of passions, and imperious
wants, in the way of music, were felt, for sentiments
and emotions which were no longer simple as
before.  A  necessity was felt for finding some
means of expressing on their musical instruments,
these changes of emotion.
* As the Greek prefix indicates, these additional modes
differ from the original ones by the position of the key-note;
it being in one case above, ill the other below. For instance
-the key-note of the I2ryper-Dorian is four tones above that
of the Dorian, that of the Zsypo-Dorian four tones below it.
-TILAN SL.




ITS CI-IARACTER.             47
The tetrachord, although considerably augmented, failed to meet the demands made upon it;
recourse was then had to invention.  The Psallery, an instrument of twelve strings, came into
existence. This instrument, handed clown from age
to age, was almost exclusively employed by the
ancients, to accompany the songs of the Jewish
kings, and, after undergoing important modifications, assumed the form of our present harp. Music,
among the Greeks, made constant progress, and, no
doubt, would have attained equal excellence with
the other arts, among this eminently artistic people,
had there not occurred a revolution fatal to the
country, and which arrested its onward course.
During a long series of ages, Greece-queen of
the intellectual world, the sanctuary whence were
evolved ideas destined to impregnate the genius
of future generations, the school where countless
philosophers came to study as well as teach, the
cradle of eloquence and poetry, classical land of
every moral and philosophical science, source of
all human progress —Greece was to lose her intellectual supremacy, and to feel the sceptre lwhichl




48                 MIusIc.
she had so firmly grasped, break in her hands.
She was fated to a slow and sad decline. In the
life of nations there seem to be bounds which cannot be passed. It is almost as if each nation had
its allotted limit, beyond which it could not advance; as if, a certain end once reached, unknown
to us, but still fixed and established, every people,
every nation, was condemned, either by necessity, force, or fatality, to deteriorate physically,
morally, and  intellectually.  History  evidently
proves it. Not only have these ancient races
fallen into decay, but modern nations that have
reached the very acme of glory and civilization,
seem to-day to present signs of depression, lack
of courage, dulness, and ignorance. All! may we
never witness these sad phases in the history of
our own country; may we never feel this approach
of physical and moral degeneration! May we
never see such fogs as marked the Middle Ages,
shut down upon our own land, and our noble hopes
sink into the abyss of fanaticism and ignorance!
May we, in short, never lose sight of that blessed




ITS CHARACTER.               49.liberty, which too often is enjoyed but for a moment, and then vanishes like a brilliant mirage.
A city had risen up in the distance, menacing
and terrible, of an encroaching and oppressive
character.  Rome, full of energy and vigor, consumed by ambition, greedy for conquest, had cast
covetous looks toward the queen of the intellectual
world. From this day it was all over with Greece.
The Roml-ans, already powerful and urged on
by an ungovernable desire for aggrandizement,
aspiring to rule the world, rushed upon this beautiful country to make it subject to their own despotic
sway.  Little qualified to understand the eloquent
beauty of the arts, comipletely ignorant of all that
influences manners and civilization, those products
of the intellect; having but a slight appreciation
for the euphony of the language, summing up all
their knowledge and aspirations in the following
words~ energy, courage, war, and victory, the
Romans could not conceive of the artistic feelings
of the Greeks.
But the daily association of the victors with
the conquered, the beauty and mildness of the cli3




50                MUSIC.
mate of the vanquished country, its monuments,
masterpieces of grandeur and elegance, its national melodies, its admirable sculptures displayed
on the pediments of the buildings and bearing
the names of Praxiteles or Phidias, the dramatic
works of Euripides, Sophocles, and Aristophanes,
the thousand and one other productions of their
genius, could not remain forever hidden treasures;
and at last, the Greeks and Romans began to understand each other.
Returning to their own country, the Romans,
polished, though unconscious of it, by having
been in contact with art, carried home the traditions which they had acquired. They were still
ignorant how to put in practice what they had
learned, but they possessed the germ destined
soon to be developed. Meantime, the efforts of
exiled Greek artists, or of those following the
armies, were not without result.  The Romans
could not yet bring their minds to devote the time
reserved for military exercises and manceuvres, to
the cultivation of the fine arts in general and
music in particular. Accustomed to military life,




ITS CIIARACTER.               51
and skilled as soldiers, the rulers thought that
raising armies, crushing weak and unoffending
nations, invading near or distant countries, undertaking hazardous enterprises and adventures, killing, murdering, causing human hecatombs, and
reducing races to slavery, were true grandeur.
This fatal error, pervading even nations of the
present day, made Rome the ruler and mistress
of the world, the Rome which to-day is humiliated,
debased, crushed by the most absurd despotism.
Nations, like individuals, need rest; like them,
they are weakened and enervated by over-exertion; like them, they cannot be always in motion;
therefore Rome, less disturbed by the fever of war,
rested, or rather, grew meditative, and being in a
state of repose gave itself up to reflection.
Its artistic feelings were aroused, and music,
though it made no sensible progress, was cultivated at least to the same degree as when first
introduced from Greece. In the forum, flute players accompanied the orators in their discourses,
and the leaders of the people, through custom or
vanity, were preceded or followed in their walks




52                 MUSIC.
by bands of musicians. This movement ought to
have been an indication of the progress and
advancement of the art; nothing of the kind!
There was nothing beyond a coarse and imperfect
imitation, a pale reflection of the art as it existed
in Greece.  Foreign countries are not forcibly
invaded, and their inhabitants deprived of their
liberties, laws, and institutions, with impunity; no
one can lay violent hands on their manners and
customs, without incurring danger of retribution.
Enslaved nations make up their minds to sigh and
suffer in silence for a time, but sooner or later they
become mutinous, make threats, rush to arms,
utter a war cry, break their chains, and rise for
freedom.  It is not antiquity alone that has furnished examples of revolt and regeneration; our
own age has given evidence of similar efforts and
produced equally sublime scenes.  Nations can
for a longer or shorter time writhe in a slow and
terrible agony, but they never die. Rome, powerful by its arms, almost always victorious, had
incurred the hatred of the nations that she had
enslaved but not subdued. The empire of force




ITS CHARACTER.               5 3
had triumphed; but however formidable this
empire may be, it is never sufficiently so to be
durable.  Rome, execrated by the vanquished
nations, roused all their anger and resentment, and
became the one object which inspired their vengeance. Exposed to perpetual annoyance from
people eager for her ruin, attacked on all sides
by rude and barbarous hordes, seeking only
plunder, overrun by masses collected from all
parts of the world, the Roman empire began to
decline. The name of Rome was not so widely
extolled as formerly, the terror that it inspired was
no longer strong enough to dismay her enemies
even before a battle, and victory had more than
once failed to crown her arms. In this sad condition of affairs, beneath the wave of barbarism
constantly increasing and mounting higher and
higher, music, which had never attained a very
high excellence, even in the most glorious days of
the empire, was utterly neglected in this age of
distress and revolution.
There existed still some ancient traditions, and
the harmony of the language, which had been




54                 MUSIC.
improved, prevented indeed the entire disappearance of rhythm and cadence; but the incessant
invasion of the country, and the voice and language of the invaders, had the effect of changing
this delicious harmony day by day. The ear, constantly offended by discordant tones, lost, by
degrees, all feeling of rhythm; and those that
remained of the ancient Greeks and  Romans
became less and less sensitive to melodic accents.
If any traditions were still preserved, they were
powerless against the elements that tended to
obliterate them.
Among the boldest and most intrepid invaders of the Roman empire, was a horde of barbarians called Gauls, consisting of a great number of independent tribes, but held together in
several bands, all leagued in a kind of confederacy.
This horde was aggressive, desperate and ferocious.
Always ready to enter into contest, often victorious
but sometimes vanquished, and then capable of
avenging their reverses; whether triumphant or
defeated, still making their enemies suffer, they
left bloody footprints wherever they passed.  Corn



ITS CHARACTER.               5 
pelled for a time to yield to- the power of Rome,
they preserved their individuality, but had neither
time nor mind for the cultivation of fine arts.
The life of excitement, the harsh and stern character, and the savage manners of these Gauls,
could not be reconciled with the cultivation of an
art which would be more likely to soften the manners than prove an incitement to war. And yet,
if we are to believe their authors and historians,
these proud and indomitable warriors had a music
of their own. Bards, heroic and religious poets,
ranking directly after the priests, had great and
important influence, though to a less degree than
the Druids. Guardians of the national traditions,
their office was to celebrate noble actions and to
apportion praise and blame. Their rapid verses,
like the charge of their war-horses, as one poet
expresses it, were sung in honor of their heroes.
Their songs, which were accompanied by the guitar
and harp, were capable of calming as well as exciting the most violent passions.  "Often," said
M. Henri Martin, " in the internal contests of
the Gallic tribes, when with swords drawn. and




56                 MiUSTiC.
lances lowered, the armies marched one against
the other, the bards advanced between the two
hostile lines, and quieted the fury of the soldiers,
just as they would have appeased wild beasts by
incantations."  Of whatever effect it was capable,
this music, the fruit merely of inspiration, could
certainly not have any settled laws and rules, or
any fixed principles.  Their science consisted only
of melody and rhythm.
Rome, constantly exposed to invasions and to
incessant attacks from barbarous tribes, gradually
wasted away: she lost her homogeneousness, as it
were, and by constant intercourse with strangers
her manners and customs became  eventually
modified.
In the midst of the confusion and intermingling
of such various races, religion underwent considerable chance. The polytheism of the pagans no
longer satisfied their conscience, their temples
were deserted, their religious ceremonies were no
longer attractive. Olympus was passing away, or
was nothing more than a dream of a few superstitious and ignorant fanatics.




ITS CIIARACTER.               57
A revolution, arising in secret silence, was to
take place, and impart a new direction to human
thought. It was an opportune moment; for the
victors as well as the vanquished, exhausted by
ceaseless strife, weakened by the loss of their
choicest warriors, their intellect debased by incessant wars, clamored for rest and peace. All
ardently aspired for the liberty and freedom which
had been temporarily crushed beneath military
despotism. A man of the people, born in poverty
and lowly circumstances, is the first to utter the
cry of freedom. He creates a new religion and
preaches it. In the place of polytheism he teaches
monotheism, liberty instead of slavery, equality in
place of despotism, and brotherly love where
tyranny formerly existed-all this on the basis of
loving one's neighbor like one's self.  Ascending
from the creature to the Creator, he becomes
absorbed in the contemplation of heaven, while
he sunders the ties that bind him  to earth.  In
his heart he seeks for inspiration, and finds there
a temple and asylum. Principles, so different
from those hitherto not only admitted but conse



58                 MUSIC.
crated, moved all men who were brought to know
them; and therefore the new religion, resting on
such a basis, worked a radical change.
It was opposed to too many interests, offended
too many consciences, not to insure many decided
adversaries, and even fierce opponents, and to
call down much ill will and implacable hatred, so
that for a long time it was kept down, repressed,
and almost overborne. But there resulted from
the persecutions an effect entirely opposite to that
which was intended: many converts were made.
Rome, till then calm and indifferent to this
change that was coming over religion, was greatly
alarmed. Threatened in its religious faith, though
no longer believing in it very sincerely, she endeavored to stifle, by the shedding of blood, the
cry of freedom which had reached her very walls.
She invented punishments, contrived tortures,
made martyrs of the victims, whose cries were
heard to the very ends of the world; the blood
poured out in the arenas only served to nourish
the growth of the new-born idea.
In the midst of this convulsion of the pagan




ITS CHARACTER.               59
world, music, confined to melodies handed down
by tradition, was also in turn revolutionized.
Christianity in its triumphant course had replaced
all other forms of worship. Churches were erected
everywhere. Cathedrals sprang out of the earth,
as it were by magic; fervent and impassioned
prayers filled all the temples; the most earnest
vows ascended to heaven, and enthusiasm and
love sprang up on every side.
For the purpose of giving thanks to God the
Saviour and to Christ the Redeemer, music
assumed a different character from heretofore.  It
had been materialistic, it became spiritual.
Education was not finished. Art having no
rules, principles, or laws, advanced hesitatingly
with trembling and uncertain steps, and all progress being stopped by old relics of paganism, there
seemed no prospect of improvement in the future.
However, about A.D. 384, St. Ambrose, bishop of
Milan, while retaining all that was good in the old
ideas, endeavored to introduce important changes
in the art. Among the religious songs of polytheism, he chose the most popular melodies, and




6o               AMUISIC.
those most readily learned by ear and most fitted
to the uncultivated voices of the multitude, anc
appropriated them to the worship of the new God;
he adapted music to the words of the liturgy, and
by this means the songs which had been learned
and handed down by tradition were kept fresh in
the memory. This process, still followed by the
clergy of our own day, had a wonderful success.
Unhappily, the holy father, while preserving the
rhythmical music of the Greeks and the popular
melodies of the ancients, while substituting sacred
for profane words, restricted the art of music
exceedingly, and condemned it to a dull routine.
Two hundred years after the death of St.
Ambrose, another Pope, St. Gregory, endeavored
to bring order out of chaos, and rearrange the
songs and melodies in common use. St. Gregory,
influenced by the idea of uniting the various Christian nations by means of the same language of
harmony, invented a religious song, to which his
name was given.* This song was divided into
notes of equal value, and had no other rhythm
* Gregorian chant.




ITS CHARACTER.               6I
than that which inevitably accompanies human
speech.
He collected a great number of melodies, making what he called an Antlihonary, and ordered
that this collection should be considered a part of
the liturgy.  In consequence of this reform, religious music was the same throughout Christendom;
it rested on foundations which were to all appearance solid, and yet the result was not what had
been expected.
The Antiphonary did not fill every want; there
was a necessity for having the musical language
expressed by fixed and invariable signs. Numerous attempts were made, at different times, but all
of them in vain, owing to the diversity of language,
customs, and habits, among Christian nations.  It
was only toward the end of the tenth century that
this great desiderazlum was apparently met.
Guido, a Benedictine monk born at Arezzo,
according to the opinion of most historians, should
have the credit of first finding a way to supply this
long felt need about A.D. I022. This was his
manner of proceeding: he took the first syllables




62                   MUSIC.
of the hymn of St. John the Baptist, and assigned
a special and determined character to each. This
hymn was composed as follows:
Ut * queant laxis
Resonare fibris
Mira gestorum
Famuli tuorum
Solve polluti
Labii rectum
Sanctre Johannes.
It was learned by rote as a means of assisting
the memory to recall and distinguish the sounds;
the notes were named according to the syllables,
and placed below them. The only aim of this
kind of instruction was to impress the intonation
of these sounds on the memory of the pupils.
The names, ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, were used to indicate the six notes of the scale; the seventh, si
was only introduced into the musical scale, at a
later period.
The importance of this innovation, or rather
* The syllable?ut was exchanged for do, for the sake
of euphony, by Gio. Maria Bononcini, father of the celebrated composer and rival of Handel. —TRANSL.




ITS CHARACTER.               63
invention, is readily understood; it determined the
intonation of every note, it enabled musicians,
singers, composers, and instrumentalists of all
countries to understand each other; it introduced
one and the same language ilnto the musical world,
and therefore it was a radical revolution.
Materials were found; it only remained to
construct the edifice.  Each individual, each race,
each nation, took hold of the work, and according
to the taste, character, customs, passions, laws,
and peculiar talent of each, musical composition,
though limited to seven notes which had been settled upon and established, as has just been said,
produced an infinite variety of combinations and
effects. The art progressed and gave promise of
a brilliant career.
As we pursue our research in the history of the
art we shall see our way grow clearer.
Documents, though often unsatisfactory, still
serve as dalta, and enable us to follow, step by
step, the progress made by the human mind; but
these brilliant gleams, torches as it were for us,
are soon to be lost sight of, and disappear for a




6 4                 MIUSIC.
time.  Social ties, which united the human race,
are soon to be loosened, and a thick veil is to
cover the greater part of our globe.
At the same time with Christianity, superstitious ideas were developed. The most grovelling
fanaticism seized every soul, intolerance and error
overshadowed all hearts; the despotism  of the
priests-chief feature of that age as of our ownknew no limits; society, shaken from its very
foundations, disturbed by various religious ideas,
bending beneath the oppressive yoke of absurd
superstition and fatal prejudice, lost all power of
reason, fell into ignorance, and gave itself up to
the most extravagant speculations.  Everything
was dark and confused; and music, like all the
other arts, sank into the common abyss.
The nations which had allowed themselves to
be blindly governed by the church, and were living in a state of exaltation, through the influence
of zealous priests, who believed themselves infallible, rose enl masse, and rushed, like a torrent,
toward the East. Under the pretext of rescuing
the tomb of Christ, and delivering it out of the




ITS CHARACTER.                65
hands of the Infidels, thousands of fanatics engaged
in bloody contests with the barbarous hordes, only
to fall by the swxord of the Saracen, or die under
the sharp agony of famine, want, or pestilence.
These great armies, constantly swallowed up only
to be replaced by others, left their homes singing
litanies and psalms; they returned, if it were
granted them to return at all, singing repziemzs or a
deprAiofztisdis.  What signified the dead, if the survivors believed thenmselves sanctified!
The art of music received new inspiration from
these admirable, though fatal expeditions.  Music
assumed a new phase.
The Crusaders, fascinated by the graceful and
ornate songs of the Orientals, began to imitate and
repeat them; of course they did not fail to introduce them  into their own country, upon their
return.  Thle   1'i-ouvL'es, Troizbado-rs, and minstrels, like the Gallic bards of former days, sang
songs of glory, tenderness, and love.  The art
became less severe in form.
The greater the distance from its point of departure, the colder became religious fervor, and




66                  MUSIC.
the enthusiasm  with regard to it subsided; man
became more manly, so to speak. The age of
blind faith was disappearing.  The accumulated
dust of ages, which concealed all traces of civilization, was blown away by the powerful breath of a
social condition which was undergoing regeneration, or rather transformation.  The fear and terror
inspired by the tribunals of the Holy Inquisition
had no longer their formner power; the flames of
funeral piles no longer shone with the same brilliancy; the pincers and instruments of torture
began to rust in the sacred armories, and the cries
of the victims were only heard at long intervals. A
movement of regeneration had been commenced
with no common energy.
This regeneration was not confined to what
concerns material and philosophical life.  It was
manifested, as well, in all that pertains to the moral
and the intellectual.
The masterpieces of antiquity, abandoned and
forgotten for a long series of years, were still in
existence.  They afforded material and served as
guides for the erection of new  edifices.  The




ITS CHARACTER.               67
artists were the first to brush the dust off the monuments, and sculpture, architecture, painting,
poetry, and music, became objects of study and
close imitation.
The imitation was not, nor ought it to have
been, servile, for the monuments and intellectual
productions of the ancients had neither the same
end in view, nor the same source of inspiration.
The ancients, impassioned interpreters of physical beauty, were skilful enough to reproduce it to
the greatest perfection, the artists living at the
time of the regenzeralion just mentioned, inspired
by the beauty in nature, as well as Christian sentiment, attempted to express, in their works, nature
idealized.
As to the philosophers of the same period,
while they admired the works of past ages, they
were no longer humbly submitting to the sway of
Plato and Aristotle; they accepted, it is true, their
principles and doctrines, but not to such an extent
as to be trammelled by them.
This earnest movement of emancipation did
not affect men alone; the women, who comprise




68                 iMUSIC.
what is called, according to a great and celebrated
physiologist, "the sensitive portion of humanity,"
were not behind.  They plunged into the study
of arts, letters, and sciences, with all the ardor
and passion that always mark their actions. The
courtesans were the first and the most eager to
seek for new and powerful means of fascination, in
the cultivation of poetry and music.
In the arts, there was a tendency to replace
with the ideal, that strict adherence to the materialistic, so to speak, which is manifest even to-day
in the pediments of the basilicas, in the capitals
of the columns, or in the arches of the Gothic
cathedrals.  In the sciences as well as in philosophy, a spirit of analysis was brought to bear on
all research; which was aided by earnest reasoninl or argument, as well as a strict devotion to
nature.
The old feudal system  was gradually disappearing, under the powerful influence of this
regeneration; ideas became more clear, customs
less austere, and bright-colored garments, of elegant shape, replaced those of a sombre  hue.




ITS CHARACTER.              69
Social gatherings increased, dramatic performances were of a more pleasing character, rich
and elegant palaces arose on all sides, and poetry
and dancing added new attractions to these
splendors.
Light appeared, darkness and obscurity vanished, a more humane feeling took the place of an
exclusively religious sentiment, and two powerful
tendencies were manifested in a most active and
energetic manner; the aim  of both being the
emancipation of the mind enslaved by the spirit
of fanaticism, and the enfranchisement of man
oppressed by despotism and the priests.
Faith was no longer strong enough to silence
reason. The free exercise of intellectual liberty
was almost the sole aspiration of European nations.
The chains of absolute power, too heavy to be
borne, were on the point of being broken.  Sweeter
and more worldly pleasures followed the asceticism
of the Middle Ages, which encouraged mortification
of the flesh and spirit. The accents of prayer were
almost drowned by songs of gayety; and music,
carried along in the general movement, gave expres



70                 MUSIC.
sion to the common frivolity and, one might almost
say, libertinism.
This music was heard, not only in gay and
lively society, but it pervaded even the churches.
The infatuation was such that music possessed
but one characteristic-that of levity. It was even
applied to sacred words, of which it changed the
sense, and imparted to them a licentious meaning;
sometimes even whole masses were written full of
obscene expressions. In a Sanctus, or incai-atlus
est, words were introduced which decency or propriety would forbid our repeating here.
Things finally reached such a scandalous and
vile state, that the Councils, especially that of
Trent, launched anathemas on the abuse of music
in the churches.  They branded with a special
stigma of disapproval the low custom of mingling
profane words and music with sacred text and
sonog.
Pope Pius IV., obeying the express wish of the
Councils, appointed a commission to devise means
to be employed for the reformation of these abuses,
and he appealed to a musician for aid, who had




ITS CifARACTEI.              71
been long known through  his musical works,
which bore the stamp of the most fervent religious
feeling. Palestrina, recognized and appreciated by
all the world on account of the superiority and
grandeur of his sacred songs, had attracted the
attention and gained the patronage of Pope Marcellus, predecessor of Pius IV. He was commissioned to restore the spirit of devotion and reverence which had long been missing from church
music.  He immediately set about the work, and
composed three masses full of charming melody,
and deeply religious in character.  The third of
these masses, generally known as the M2zass of Porse
ifarceZ/us, thus named by its author out of regard
for the memory of the pontiff, was considered the
best, and was therefore adopted as a standard of
excellence.
At the first hearing of this composition, June
I5, 1565, Pius IV. was so enraptured that he
summoned the author of this masterpiece before
him, complimented him, and appointed him director of music in the Papal chapel. At this time
Palestrina could not regard such an honor with




72                  MIUSIC.
indifference.  Happy in the success he had just
attained, he pursued his artistic work with the
greatest ardor, and his efforts all bore the stamp
of genius.
The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are considered, in the annals of the human race, a brilliant and remarkable period with regard to intellectual productions.  The fine arts in general,
and music in particular, advanced more rapidly
than ever before. Great events and new discoveries helped to overturn and transform  the whole
world of intellect.
In less than half a century, printing, invented
in I450, offered a means for a tangible and palpable manifestation of human thought. It put all
nations in communication with each other; it
brought them nearer together, and allowed them
to participate mutually in the progress of human
science; it caused another complete revolution.
Three years later, in I453, the capture of
Constantinople by the Turks revealed to Europe
Grecian civilization, and disclosed models full of
grace and instruction; it also shed light on the




ITS ClHARACTER.              73
philosophy of past ages, brightened the minds
of artists, and inspired a taste for study and
research.
In I492, the discovery of America, which
revealed, as it were, a new world, opened a vast
field for exploration. A virgin land, free from all
stain, a splendid and luxuriant vegetation, a state
of wild and vigorous nature, presented an infinite
future to the imagination, and a never-failing
spring of varied inspiration to the mind.
The movement of immigration to this wonderful country, though impeded at first, soon set in
with an almost passionate energy. Unfortunately,
the race who were the first to tread these heavenblessed shores, possessed neither the germs of
poetry nor the ideal of thought; entirely occupied
by commerce and trade, they saw only another
means for obtaining material wealth in this newly
discovered country, only another outlet for their
productions, only another market to be supplied.
America for a long time was only a vast factory,
and, even in our own day, is merely an extensive
work-shop, admirable, it is true, and whence issue
4




74                 MUSIC.
the most astonishing and marvellous products of
human industry.
Europe, twenty or thirty years later, underwent
a startling change of faith. A bold mind dared to
question the truth of Catholicism, which had hitherto held triumphant sway. Luther presented his
views of reform to the religious world. It is true,
they bore only on points which admitted of dis
pute; but they imparted a shock to the Catholic
world, which is felt even to day. It could not be
otherwise; for the doctrines and dogmas of this
church, once submitted to reason, analysis, discussion, and open attack, Catholicism ceases to be a
revealed religion, and becomes simply a philosophy, whose teachings admit of every-one receiving
instruction in the supposed truths, or bringing
the light of his own opinions to bear upon them.
Therefore the spectacle which we witness to-day,
in our own age, of science carrying with perfect
right the world-illumining torch, ought neither to
irritate nor astonish us. The nozj possumus of the
sovereign Pontiff is the inevitable consequence
and fixed principle of the Catholic religion; that




ITS CHIARACTER.              75
is, an absolute denial of science —this illuminating
torch-as well as the right of discussion, which
guides and directs it.
The Reformation, attackling the faith which
accepts without question all that it is told to
accept, drew upon itself the most violent hatred
and the liveliest animosity.  The strife was long
and bitter, persecution was incessant, tortures
were renewed, and there was no lack of victims.
The movement, which affected all humanity,
opened up a new life to society in general; philosophy resumed arguments long forgotten; art
began again to advance, after having been for
a time interrupted; science took a fresh start,
never again to be arrested in its onward march;
the spirit of independence pervaded the masses;
the principles of liberty were engendered in all
hearts; in short, the hour for a new birth, a complete regeneration, had struck.
These events, and many others that could
easily be recounted, were we to penetrate the
recesses of this remarkable age, would seem perhaps to have no connection with each other; yet




76                 MusiC.
they were signs of the beginning of a long needed
investigation; they were all so many symptoms of
hope, or aspirations which could no longer be
kept at rest by an authority always considered
until then absolute and all-powerful.
MV'lusic, like all the other arts, became emancipatc'd, as it were; and the great reformer, Luther,
convinced of the powerful influence of an art, of'wiich he himself was passionately fond, began compc sing chorals for the churches.  Under his inspir:t-.tion, schools of music were established, bells and
cihimes were placed in all towers and belfries. The
Catholic States of Germany, not willing to be outdone, followed the example of the Protestants, and
instruction in the musical art formed, with them too,
a part of common education.
Music, which had long been  stationary  in
Germany, was destined soon to take a leading
position. The sentimental character of the Germans predisposed them to instrumental music,
and they had a special love for symphonies.
Among this people, in fact, the dreamy, poetic, and
ideal had full sco e for development.  Bach,




ITS CHARACTER.               77
Handel, and Haydn, were worthy and illustrious
representatives.
Profane  music, expelled  from   Christiani
churches, and prohibited by order of popes ald
councils, as has been said above, took refuge in)
private houses and social gatherings. There,
being favored and upheld by the fashion of the
day, it became established on a firm basis. Musicians of natural taste, who were led to study and
cultivate with earnestness an art that afforded
them  both enjoyment and pleasure, constantly
invented new musical combinations.
The epoch of blind faith and belief had already
gone by, and the mind was no longer absorbed by
religious emotions.  Religious wars gradually
ceased, there were no longer continued arguments
among scholars, civilization had resumed its
march, new passions had come into play, wants
were increasing, more intense longings and aspirations were felt; as a consequence, more variety
and energy were demanded in musical tones and
accents. It was expected to interpret all sentiments or emotions, to express every situation in




73                 MUSIC.
life, to adapt itself to all characters, and to identify
itself with whatever subject was to be considered
or represented.
Greater demands were made upon both artists
and art itself, for the purpose of imparting more enjoyment to the world at large. Musicians, on their
part, understanding better what was expected of
them, multiplied their resources.  They no longer
confined themselves to giving expression to their
ideas and thoughts by sounds alone.
It was especially in Italy that the most striking advancement was made.
Mfonteverde, a man of immense talent, it might
almost be said of genius, born at Cremona, I505,
a skilful virtuoso on the viola, was summoned
to Venice, and appointed director of music in
the Cathedral of St. Mark, August i9,.6I3. He
was one of the first to impart to music a much
more significant meaning than it had ever before
had. Beside composing in all the styles known
in his day, he attempted writing works in dramatic
fornm.
At the court of Mantua, in i6o7, he brought




ITS CHARACTER.              / 
out an opera, Ariadne.  Soon after, O;rpieus appeared.  The greatest success crowned these
efforts. In I6o8, on the occasion of the marriage
of Francis of Gonzaga and Margaret of Savoy,
the same artist composed music for a ballet called
Del/e ingrate, in which, according to tile opinion
of competent judges, effects of rhythmical instrumentation were produced which had been totally
unknown up to that age. This ballel was received
with enthusiasm, and warmly applauded.
The impetus was given; musicians, animated
by an earnest and noble zeal, worked most industriously. Each chose his own path; some had
more taste for religious subjects, others for heroic
ones; some for pictures of love, others again for
pastoral science, and the aim of all was glory and
renown.
Dramatic music had been invented; the drama,
varied in form and character, was destined to have
countless interpreters.
Toward the end of the sixteenth century, Don
Garin de Toledo, viceroy of Sicily, had the
Almtilita of Torquato Tasso, and a Pastorale of




So                 nMUSIC.
Transillo, brought out in presence of the court.
The Grand Dukes of Tuscany, considering themselves protectors of the arts, in imitation of Mmcenas, patronized all attempts in the way of dramatic music most generously. The art of musical
composition was developed and advanced on every
hand. Harmony became more incorporated with
melody, and thus accompaniments were composed that presented marvellous effects. Instruments were subjected to pleasing modifications.
Their compass became more extended, their
tone more ample and rich. The nations who
witnessed the success of these efforts commended
the diverse changes; they followed the progress
of an art, that had already afforded them so much
pleasure, with the keenest interest. Italy was the
first to distinguish itself, and the  Neapolitan
school had the honor of being at the head of this
progressive movement.
Every day witnessed the appearance of new
operas, oratorios, and motets. Compositions were
written in all styles. The number of illustrious
musicians soon became so great as to preclude the




ITS CHARACTER.                81I?ossibility of their being either named or classified.
While Naples was advancing with rapid strides,
and the art which had made its school renowned'was being cultivated with eminent success, Venice
saw  numerous  aspirants rise up  and become
iamous, in its very midst.  Benedetto Marcello,
a nobleman sprung from a partrician family that
included among its ancestors a doge, six procurators, and a number of other illustrious civil and
military dignitaries, gave promise of being a distinguished composer.  Carried away with enthusiasm for an art which he loved almaost passionately, he had to contend against the prejudices
of his tinme and the obstinate will of his noble
father. The nobility, being proud and haughty,
thought it in those days derogatory to their character to engage in anything but the pursuit of
pleasure; tlhey considered it degrading to take part
in the cultivation of an art, in which even members  of the lower classes  often distinguished
themselves.
Benedetto Marcello obstinately endeavored to
4*




82                MUSIC.
break down the prejudices of his family, and
remove the obstacles that stood in his way, but
seemed powerless to overcome the objections of
his father. However, such an indomitable desire,
to express the musical ideas which seemed pent,
up within him, must necessarily triumph in the
end. He secretly bought some music-paper, and.
at night devoted himself to his favorite pursuit.
His father, discovering that he was disobeyed,
removed all means of work from his rebellious
son; he took him away some distance from the
town, hoping to divert him, and distract his
attention from studies which were unworthy, in
the father's opinion, of his son's high birth.
Useless measures of precaution and severity!
Benedetto, more inspired than ever, when living
in close contact with quiet nature, contemplating
the calm peacefulness of the meadows, felt a more
intense ardor burning within him. Ideas and
melodies were constantly crowding upon him, and
for the second time, he secretly procured some
music-paper. Far from the excitement and noise
of the town, in reverie and solitude, he wrote




ITS CHARACTER.              83
compositions which were destined to be masterworks. In the midst of this ceaseless opposition;
these obstacles which would have been insurmountable to any less determined will than his
own, and this continuous vexation, young Marcello
was called upon to witness the death of his father.
Then the unfettered genius took wings, and a mass
of his, which was highly applauded and regarded
as a masterpiece, revealed the immense talent of
this nobleman-composer; the success he met
with, the applause, and later, the renown and
glory that were awarded him, recompensed the
artist for all his past sorrows. Benedetto Marcello, free now to devote himself exclusively to the
profession for which he had shown such genius,
became wholly absorbed in this one passion.
A thorough and varied education, acquired by
long literary application, enabled him to understand intimately a great variety of subjects.
Masses and oratorios opened up a vast field to his
inspirations, and the music he adapted to the
Psalms of David gave evidence of a brilliant
imagination, a soul full of noble and high thought,




84                 MUSIC.
a great warmth of heart; as well as a character
remarkable for energy, tenderness, and sensitiveness. This man of such wonderful powers died
in I730o, at the age of forty-four, with his mental
faculties undiminished.
Italy shone so brightly that its lustre was shed
over all Europe. France and Germany, at first
cold and indifferent spectators of this great movement in musical art, eventually took part in it.
Cardinal Mazarin, minister to Louis XIV., was
the first to introduce dramatic music into France.
He looked toward Italy, summoned singers and
musicians, and had the dramas already celebrated
in the Peninsula performed in the presence of the
monarch so long oppressed with ennui.
The Fesict teatrale delat finta pazza de Strozzi,
and  the Orpheus of Monteverde, inaugurated
an epoch which was destined to be fruitful in
musical compositions.  A  lyric  tragedy  was
played at the Louvre, at the time of the king's
marriage; pastorals appeared under the inspiration of skilled musicians and the all-influential
patronage of the prime minister.




ITS CHARACTER.                8 5
Froln this day dramatic music received the
right of citizenship as it were, in France, or rather,
the privilege of being identified with court circles.
While these attempts at representing and interpreting the lyric drama were becoming more
frequent, and meeting with eminent success, a
distinguished violinist, Florentine by birth, was
brought to Paris by the Chevalier de Guise.
His reputation as an artist gifted with delicate
sensibility and perfect taste, had preceded him;
therefore Lully could not fail of success. Courted
on account of his wit, as well as his great learning in musical matters, he was soon appointed
Royal Director of Music. A short time after, he
is announced as filling the office of court conmposer, though nothing was actually required of him.
Finding himself all at once in the midst of a court
devoted to pleasure, he wrote accompaniments
to the ballets given there, as well as arias to
be introduced at the representations of Moliere's
comedies.  A man of vast resources, and gifted
with great powers of invention as regards melody
and harmony, he was granted the privilege of mak



86                  ATUSIC.
in g use of the Royal Academy of Music, where he
brought out, first, a pastoral by Quinault, called
The Feast of Love and Bacchus. The first performances met with most flattering success, and
the poet and musician, working hand in hand from
this time, as is the case in our own day with Scribe
and Auber, gave to the world operas, pastorals,
and no less than twenty-five ballets, in quick succession.
Singers and choristers, dancers and orchestra
players, had each their special part to perform.
Opera was now fully established.
Dramatic music became the favorite among all
classes. Frightful plots, pastoral scenes where
love reigned, fascinating ballets, and charming
interludes, followed one another in quick succession on the stage.  Lully was unquestionably the
all-ruling spirit.
But in the midst of the success and triumph
of this Florentine, worthy representative and interpreter of the Italian school of music, a French
musician suddenly came into renown, owing to his
theoretical works on the art of musical combina



ITS CHEARACTER.              87
tions.  Harmony was the special object of his
study, but the obstacles which constantly arose in
his path prevented his putting in practice his
theories and principles. It was not until Rameau
was forty-four years old according to some writers,
but fifty according to others, that he brought out
an opera at the Royal Academy of Music. His
first work was presented to the public in I733, and
it was followed by twenty-four others, all of which
bore the stamp of a high order of genius.
Rameau, more intense and passionate than
Lully, and imbued with the grand and eternal
principle proclaimed long before by Monteverde
and his followers, that music should only obey
feeling and have no office beyond that of accompanying poetry and rendering its meaning more
clear, had an advantage over Lully, in being able
to invest his heroes with more force, and impart
more passion to his melody, while his harmonies
were more rich and complete.
These qualities might well be expected to
attract the attention of connaisseuzrs to his works,
and to win the admiration of all hearers. The




88                 AIUSIC,
public became wildly enthusiastic, and, as always
happens under similar circumstances, a powerful
reaction soon took place.
Lully's works, lately admired to the very exclusion of all others, were quietly laid away on the
shelves of the Opera House, and their master was
almost entirely neglected.
Rameau's music enjoyed an incredible popularity for some time, and reigned without a rival
until a troupe of Italian singers obtained permission to give dramatic performances on alternate
nights with the French company at the Opera
House. Lully's works were again brought from
the oblivion into which they had been unjustly cast,
and appeared once more on the scene.  Other
more modern Italian compositions aroused a little
of the former enthusiasm in the public.  The
Serva Padronza, undoubtedly the master-work of
Pergolesi, was brought out by the Italian troupe
August 2, I752. It was listened to with unbounded
satisfaction and delight. Other works by the same
master were also given, and from that day French
music was to hold an equal rank with the Italian.




ITS CH-ARACTER.              89
Two parties were formed. The French party
bore the name of the " Kingo's Corner," and the
Italian one that of "'Queen's Corner," because
each took its place respectively near the King's
and Queen's boxes at the opera house. At this
epoch, Madame du Barry, who exercised a strong
personal influence over the king, pronounced in
favor of French music, not that she in the least
fancied Rameau, on the contrary she detested his
works, but out of politeness to her royal lover.
The two parties were constantly stirring and
active; pamphlets and all sorts of satires appeared
in every direction.  The Italian music was attacked as being too light and superficial, partaking too much of the character of the opel-a bozuje of
the present day; French music was considered as
tiresome, heavy, formal —too much resembling
psalmody. Critics, musicians, and the most renowned literary men of those times, were all
interested in this quarrel, as it might be called;
their opinions, were openly given, and their wits
expended and pens freely used for the benefit of
both parties. J. J. Rousseau, who belonged to the




90                   IMUSIC.'" Queen's Corner" wrote letters on music. Grimm
and Voltaire, who were always to be seen in the
" King's Corner," were constantly launching various articles and satires against Italian music.
Raimisis and IuiZis/s entered upon really a fierce
war; each party defended its own views with an
almost unparalleled pertinacity.  Voltaire, tired
of such constant quarrelling, tried  in vain to
bring about a reconciliation; he wrote at one
time:
G'Je va-is chercher la paix au temple des chansons,
J'entends crier; Lully, Campra, Rameau, buffons,
Etes-vous pour Ia France ou bien pour l'Italie!
Je suis pour mon plaisir, messieurs, quelle folie
Vous tient ici debut, sans vouloir m'ecouter?
Ne suis-je a l'Opera que pour y disputer?"
But his words were lost in the tumult that
reigned.  The contest continued to rage with the
greatest violence and ardor, and at the time of the
production of Titon and Aurora, January 9, I755,
the quarrel fairly reached its height.
The first representation of this opera was considered as decisive either for triumph or defeat.




ITS CHIARACTER.             9
Both sides prepared themselves for the struggle.
When the day came for the performance, the two
parties were in their accustomed " corners."
"The light-horse," said M. Castil Blaze, "the
gendarmes, musketeers, and riflemen filled the
parquet." The Italian, or Queen's party," crowded
out of their usual " corner," and literally unable
to find a place anywhere in the hall, took up a position in the corridor. Excitement and impatience
had reached the climax. The curtain rose at
last, and Tton and Auzzora, thanks to cunningly
devised tricks, which were made use of by force,
proved a success. During the course of the performance, the dilet//ante portion of the French party
despatched couriers every fifteen minutes to Louis
XV., who was at Choisy, to advise him how matters
were going on.
The monarch, impatient to know the result of
the contest, in which he had taken such a keen
interest, awaited each courier as anxiously as if
some serious state-question were under consideration, or the very fate of his kingdom were at stake.
"We have gained our cause," he cried, addressing




92                  MIIUSIC.
his favorite, after having received the last bulletin
announcing the final triumph.
Considering all the artifice used to accomplish
this success, it could hardly be called a brilliant
one. However, it effected an immediate result:
the complete dismissal of the Italians. Frenclh
opera was granted the exclusive privilege of th(
Parisian stage.
This victory, though won rather ignobly, was
productive of new favors for Rameau: the king
presented him with a patent of nobility, a necessary preliminary to render him worthy of receiving the Order of St. Michael which was to be offered to him. But the musician, not sufficiently
appreciative of these marks of regard and esteem,
did not even have his patent of nobility recorded.
Louis XV., thinking without doubt that Rameau
did not wish to incur the necessary expense, proposed himself to defray it. "If your majesty,"
said the artist, "would really like to present me
with this sum of money, I could spend it much
more advantageously.  What is a noble titkle
to me?  Castor and Darnalnus have long since




ITS CHARACTER.                93
added sufficient lustre to my name."  However,
he Order of St. Michael was presented, though
the title of nobility lapsed, owing to its never
1- aving been recorded.
This artistic pride, and this indifference amounting almost to contempt for ribbons and decorat ions, were by no means rare at this period. Tintoret refused an order which was offered to him.
Later, the sly and witty Beaumarchais, whom a
certain critic had described as not gifted with a
bright mind, and as being a theorist of narrow
views, replied to Baron de Breteuil, when that minister offered to present him with the Order of St.
Michael, "Those men whose merit is recognized,
can well afford to dispense with decorations, so
precious to fools" (June, I785).
Have artists of the present day any such scruples?  Let each  reply for himself.  Temfora
nzcitcztlr, el ios mlamzzr in illis.
After such long quarrelling, by means of both
voice and pen, the point of the satires seemed to
be blunted with regard to Italian and French
music, and both Ramalists and aLu//ists appeared to




94                 MUSIC.
have tacitly consented to a truce, when a new
occasion came to revive the quarrel.
A composer arrived in Paris who was wellknown in Germany  and Italy, where he hac'
already brought out several works with great
tecla t.
A powerful reformer, he left the worn and
beaten path hitherto travelled by musicians, and
resolutely broke a new one for himself.
Combining originality with genius, heralded by
his works, Gluck was about to appear before the
Parisian public, and to undergo the criticism of the
two parties, between which ill-feeling had been
allayed but not extinguished. Therefore curiosity
was on the qui vive; every one was prepared for
attack or defence.
The opera of ISnz5Aigeztia ivz Auzis was announced for April I9, I774.  As early as five
o'clock the entire court were in their respective
places. There was a perfect blaze of gold, precious stones and diamonds.  The bant, arrit're
ban and the diZettanli met together; friends and
foes alike were at their post. The buzz of conver



ITS CHARACTER.               95
sation was heard through the house, but at a signal
given from the stage, all became quiet, and a solemn silence succeeded the confusion of tongues.
The overture began, and the opening chords filled
the audience with admiration.
The hurried and excited breathing of the
listeners was apparent, but no one dared give
expression to his feelings. After the first recitative
of Agamemnon, the wife of the Dauphin, Marie
Antoinette, fairly carried away with enthusiasm,
clapped her hands. Then the excitement knew
no bounds; a thunder of applause drowned the
voices of the singers and the notes of the orchestra; the success was decided; p#hi/zeia was
cheered; Gluck triumphed!
This performance, which the A;nnals of tze
&.encl  Opera mention in the most enthusiastic
terms, justified the opinion first formed of the
genius of this composer.
Pure delivery in the recitatives, power in the
dramatic expression, wealth and inspiration of
melody, exquisite refinement of sentiment and




96                 MUSIC.
emotion, all contributed to the well-merited and
enthusiastic celebrity of the artist.
Louis XV. still lived; Madame du Barry, having witnessed the enthusiasm  and applause that
greeted the protege of Marie Antoinette, for whom
she entertained the most violent antipathy, wished,
out of a sheer spirit of opposition, to introduce a
musician who should be exclusively under her
own protection. In connection with the Marquis
Caraccioli, the ambassador from Naples to Paris,
she had a letter sent to the Baron Breteuil, French
ambassador at the Court of Naples, telling him to
enter into negociations with Piccini, already
known in Italy through his remarkable compositions, and highly praised by the banker Delaborde; an annual salary of two thousand crowns,
and the privilege of having his works copyrighted,
were offered the maestro, if he would bring out his
operas at Paris. Piccini accepted this advantageous proposal, and thus the Italian and French
schools were again brought into opposition with
each other; or rather Piccini was pitted against
Gluck.




ITS CHARACTER.               97
The rivalries which might be expected to arise
between these two champions of the different
schools could not fail to be exciting, and inspire
Those lookers-on who took an interest in the success or defeat of either party, with the keenest
e2motion.
The  arguments  which  had  been  already
advanced for and against the French school, were
all to be  brought forward  in connection with
Gluck's music, and the complete and brilliant success he had just obtained did not serve to discourage the partisans of the Italian school. They
contended that the great composer's music was too
severe in style, and clamored loudly for more
lightness, mirth and airiness; so they had great
faith that the music of Piccini would answer all
their demands.
Piccini, a musician  of almost exhaustless
resources, gifted with a brilliant imagination and,
above all, a wonderful originality, immediately set
to work, and soon after arriving in France, brought
out the opera, Atys.
With the announcement of this coming novelty




98                 MUSIC.
the court and citizens assembled at the theatre
the music of the new master was greeted with the
greatest applause.  This was possibly all the
more noisy, because the enthusiasts aimed to have
the. reception of this new master outshine in every
way that tendered recently to Gluck.
Musical quarrels now became more animated
than ever.  Gluckists and Piccizzists entered into
angry dispute.  Like the Rainisls and liuhists
they had among their friends and adversaries,
authorities as regards literature and criticism; on
both sides, anger was violent, fierce, spirited and
passionate. If we wish to form the least idea of
the fury of the contest which then arose, we should
revert to the days of our youth, when we witnessed
the quarrel between the ronanzticis/s and ckassicists
in our French literature.
Marmontel, that zealous advocate of the Italian school, thought he could take the best operas
of Quinault and adapt them to the style of
Piccini; this called down upon him the animosity
of the critics who were partisans of Gluck. Arnaud, in one of his satires, wrote:




ITS CHARACTER.                   99
"Ce MIvarmontel, si long, si lent, si lourd,
Qui ne parle jamais mais qui beugle,
Juge la peinture en aveugle
Et la musique comme sourd
Ce pedant & si triste mine,
Et de ridicule bardd,
Dit qu'il a le secret des beaux vers de Racine
Jamais secret ne fut si bien garde."
The struggle was carried on in every possible
way. The Italian party was eventually vanquished.   Gluck, the  illustrious  composer of
Armida, Aiceste, f/ihigenia inl Aiuis, and  Zphigenia
in laizris, was universally applauded.
This ardent and passionate strife did not fail
to have some effect on the future progress of music.
An extensive field was opened up to talent and
ambition of all kinds. Men of undoubted genius
entered the arena striving for fame, and in that
age, as to-day, success in opera was the aspiration
of all musicians-the goal, as it were, of all competitors.
One of them, a young man hitherto almost
unkn6wn, was preparing silently and in secret to
Ecnter the lists. A passionate admirer of the works




I00                MUSIC.
of Gluck, he eagerly improved every opportunity
for listening to the compositions of the great
master, whom he regarded as a model.
An anecdote acquaints us with the admiration
which the young man entertained for the musician.
whom he worshipped almost to idolatry. The first
representation of the opera, Ip/iezincia i' Tauris
was announced.  Our would-be  musician was
seized with an irresistible desire to witness this
performance.  Unfortunately an insurmountable
obstacle prevented him from satisfying his ardent
curiosity.  He had no money with which to buy a
ticket. What was to be clone?  Make use of
stratagem. The day before the performance, the
young man secreted himself in the furthest corner
of an opera box.  What matters it to him, if he
must pass the night and day there without food or
drink, provided he can witness the play without
any expense? While he is crouching in his place
of concealment, a noise is heard; it is the inspector of the theatre, making his rounds. The culprit's heart beats faster: he is discovered   T The
inspector takes him to Gardel, the director of the




ITS CHARIACTER.            IO
Opera. "What were you doing there." asked the
latter. The young man, blushing with shame,
replied that his pecuniary means not allowing him
to purchase a ticket, he concealed himself in the
box so as to witness the play.  Gardel, with
his usual magnanimity, presented lhim  with a
ticket, which was eagerly accepted. The name
of this young, until then unknown musician was
Being presented to Gluck, he was kindly
received, and was even granted advice with regard
to the study of his beloved art.
Being gifted with original talent, and faithfully
following the counsel and instruction of his master,
Meihul learned how to give expression to the
highest kind of beauty. "Dramatic sentiment,"
according to a biographer, "vigor, truthfulness of
expression, imagination, boldness in orchestration,
the wonderful effect consequent upon the skilful
combination of the three powerful elements in
music-melody, harmony, and rhythm-all are to
be found in his compositions. Since his time, our
means of working have become more numerous,




102                MUSIC.
powerful, and varied, but we have never overstepped the limits fixed by Mdhul.  His opera of
Euphrosine is full of purity, grace, and excellence" (Castil-Blaze).
M6hul, whose  talent and merit have been
appreciated by all the world, was the first to introduce overtures as preludes to operas. Nearly all
of these overtures are masterpieces, and we still
listen to those preceding the operas of Siralonice, Horatizs Co(es, YounZg  enry, and  yoseph,
with the greatest delight.
M ehul did not confine himself to operatic compositions. Carried away by the revolutionary
movement, it filled him with thoughts and inspiration, the burden of which was earnest patriotism.
Among his numerous works, that which met with
the greatest favor from the public was, without
doubt, the charming hymn, constantly heard wherever any enthusiasm or passion is felt; that known
as Le Chant dz DzDOart.
Music, as we see, assumed new forms day by
day; the creative zeal of artists and the admiration of dilettanti was everywhere aroused; the




ITS CHARACTEix.            I03
Royal Academy of Music was no longer able to
bring out all the new works and dramatic compositions that were offered. It was powerless to
satisfy the ardent curiosity of a public, now so
devotedly fond of an art that afforded them such
exhaustless enjoyment. Some other means had
to be provided for representing the countless productions which were daily brought forth, and
therefore a separate house was established for
Opc'ra Comique. All the works were there put
upon the stage which did not properly belong to
the Grand Opera. One of the first musicians
who met with the greatest success on this newly
created stage was undoubtedly the maestro Gretry.
He had written many compositions for the Grand
Opera, but they had never received the applause
which their undoubted merit deserved. The operas
of Az4ndromnache, of Cethise, and JProcris, spite of the
learning of which they gave evidence, were coldly
received, and L'embarras des ric/esses, written
in conjunction with Marmontel, called forth the
-following epigram on its authors:




104                   MUSTC., Eml)arras d' interlt,
Embarras dans les roles;
Embarras de ballet,
Embarras de paroles,
Des embarras, de sorte
Que tout est embarras 
Mais venez a la porte
Vous n'en trouverez pas."
Colliniete h la (Cour was not as successful as
the other pieces, but the Caravaze du CGire, produced at the Opera Coinique January I5, 1784,
met with the  greatest favor, and was  loudly
applauded.  This melodious, lively, graceful and
brilliant music, was particularly remarkable for its
truthfulness of expression.
Monsigny, Philidor and Berton, that constellation of brilliant musicians, to speak poetically,
inspired the masses with a taste for this kind of
music, which, in our day, still touches the sympathies of the majority of music lovers.
In Italy nothing was heard in the theatres but
the  compositions  of Gugliielmi, Paesiello, and
Cimarosa; which works, full of true inspiration,
grace and originality, were everywhere adimired.




ITS CHIARACTER.              I 0o
After Gluck's departure from France, Piccini
reigned triumphant.  His Dido placed him unquestionably far above all cotemporaneous artists,
but Sacchini was now to contest with him for the
leadership of the opera at Paris.  This composer,
one of the most renowned musicians of the age,
brought out operas which were crowned with the
most brilliant success.  He was a distinguished
pupil of the Conservatory of Music at Naples,
and had travelled through Italy, Germany and
Holland; the report of the success and applause
which be had met with in these different countries,
had even reached England, where dramatic music
was just beginning to be appreciated.
During his residence there he composed a large
number of seriouzs operas, and a few works in operca
boze,; among the first, we may mention as the
most renowned, MJontzezuvzz and JRinalilo,   among
the second, L'Amzore soIdalto and La Couztadi;za in;orte.
Leaving London after a sojourn there of eleven
years, he went to Paris, where his well-deserved
renown was not unknown, and brought out, on the
5+




ro 6                WIItMusIc.
French stage, works that charmed and delighted
the public by richness and elegance of orchestration, as well as grandeur, purity, and sweetness of melody.  The name of Sacchini became
popular, and his operas, CZimezne, Renaud, and
particularly lDardanus, a subject which had been
previously treated by Rameau, sealed the reputation of the celebrated composer. But, alas!
jealousy arose simultaneously with his popularity;
outcries by interested parties, under the pretence
of protecting the honor of national artists, and
advancing their prosperity, prevented the representation of Sacchini's operas at the Royal Academy.
Grief fairly overcame the master, and aggravated
the fever from which he was suffering at the time,
so that before he was allowed to witness the performance of his masterpiece, czfd6us at Colonna,
Sacchini was gathered to his fathers.
In our country, which is considered moderately
intelligent, ought the spirit of envy, detraction and
injustice to assail all who give any evidence of
genius, or already triumph in the consciousness of
fame?




ITS CHARACTER.              107
At this time Salieri, the director of the theatre
at Vienna, in Austria, was acknowledged by foreigners to be- a distinguished composer, but his
excellence had not yet been as widely recognized
as it deserved.
A friend of Gluck, and in constant association
with him, Salieri composed, in 1784, the opera of
Zes Dantz'ides, for the Royal Academy. The
music in it was so remarkable, so powerful and so
full of beauty, that it was attributed to Gluck,
until the latter solemnly declared that the work
contained nothing but what was wholly original
with the musician who claimed its authorship.
Three years after this great success (1787),
Salieri wrote an opera called Tarare, the libretto
of which was from the pen of Beaumarchais; this
opera was eminently successful, though to a somewhat less degree than Les Dandiraes.
Something now occurred which, according to
Castil-Blaze, had never been known in the history
of art.  Beaumarchais and Da Ponte, separated
from each other by four hundred leagues, hit upon
a style of operatic composition called the romantic.




io8                MUSIC.
Beaumarchais and  Salieri had just produced
Tarare June 8, I787, when the sublime Don.7zan,
joint work of Da Ponte and Mozart, appeared upon
the stage at Prague, November 4, of the same
year.
While the musicians mentioned above were at
the height of their glory, Europe resounded with
the fame of a young man who, even at five years
of age, was a distinguished pianist, and two years
later, a composer.  Mozart was now in Paris, for
the second or third time.  Introduced to Grimm,
and to Noverre, maJnre-le-balZet at the Royal Academly, as well as to Madame d'Epinay and several
other distinguishedl persons, this young musician
begged the favor of being allowed to execute
some of his compositions in their presence.
For this purpose he placed in the hands of
Legros, director of the classical concerts, a symphony written for the most eminent instrumentalists
of the age. Predictions were freely expressed on
the part of Mozart's patrons; every-one seemed to
be favorably inclined toward him; they even
talked already of permanent engagements; but all




ITS CHARACTER.              I 09
these good words were, so to speak, empty promises. Time passed, no engagement was formed,
the hour for fulfilment never arrived.  What
seemed still more strange and provoking, was
that they did not even deign to have the score of
the symphony copied, though it had been received
by the public with something like enthusiasm.
Mozart, disheartened by six months' delay and
vexation, had no further strength to plead his
cause.  He could not even endure remaining
longer in Paris. His trials and disappointments,
coupled with the death of his mother, with whom
he had been living, decided him  to quit this
capital where he had dreamed of gaining so much
fame. He set out on September 26, I778, after
having written to his father who was in Germany,
these bitter and heart-rending words: "If only
there were oze person here who had ears to hear,
and a heart to feel." He returned to Salzburg, his
native country, where he lived in a state bordering on misery. Worn out, discouraged and enfeebled, he would surely have yielded to despair had
not an unforeseen circumstance revived his spirits.




I IO               MUSIC.
Charles Theodore, the Elector of Bavaria,
invited him  to come to Munich, and write the
music for a grand opera to be brought out at the
Italian Opera in that city. It was a real stroke
of fortune. Mozart left his home without delay,
set to work at once, and at the end of several
months  brought out Idomzeneo, an  opera  in
three acts. This work, which resembled neither
the Italian, German nor French schools, in its
melodies, was considered as veritably a new beginning in the art of music. It was accorded a most
favorable reception.
After this success, the composer received
divers offers. The one made by the noble archbishop of Salzburg was entertained in preference
to all others; it admitted of the musician retaining
his residence in his native town, which he loved
devotedly. He entered at once into the service
of his Holiness. This prelate, although a prince
as well as archbishop, was coarse and avaricious.
He thought by having a musician of genius about
his person he but added one more servant to his
present retinue. Therefore he tried to force him




ITS CHARACTER.              I I I
to eat in company with the domestics of the
household. Mozart, feeling his dignity as an
artist wounded, endured this humiliation for some
time, but realizing fully his own worth, he finally
broke the yoke so imprudently assumed. Recalling the reception that had been tendered him in
his very childhood, by the members of the imperial
court of Austria, he took the road to Vienna, and
in I782  brought out his ballet, L'EFzlSvemeezt
duz Serai4, at the court of the Emperor Joseph
II. This work met with a brilliant success, and
now prosperity, or rather a peaceful contentment,
seemed to fall to the lot of the composer.
The Ma/frriage of Eigaro, an opera in four acts,
followed this ballet, and if this opera, so much
admired at the present day, was not as well known
then as it is now, we should remember, that nothing of all that had been heard in musical works
before his day, could give the least idea of this
matchless composition.
Wealth of thought, grandeur and richness in the
concerted pieces, charming and original melody,
full and varied accompaniments, all combined to




I I 2              MUSIC.
the perfection of a work which marks an epoch
in the artist's life, as well as forms an era in the
history of dramatic music.
Exhausted by overwork, Mozart made a journey
to Prague. There he remained awhile, and continued his work, but very soon returned to Vienna,
the scene of his triumph. In this city he composed his last opera, masterpiece of all masterpieces, his immortal work, 2Doz 7uzztn.
Mozart, whom fate seemed to pursue, lived constantly in the greatest anxiety and trouble, spite
of all the triumph and renown that he had gained.
He could have been spared pecuniary annoyance,
it is true, for the King of Prussia made the most
enticing and advantageous proposals, to induce
him to come to his court; but the artist, being
fondly attached to the Emperor of Austria, declined
the honor, disregardful of the advantages that
would accrue from the acceptance, and sent a positive refusal. The Emperor of Austria, informed
of Mozart's devotion to the court and to himself
personally, expressed his gratification, or rather
perhaps, his gratitude, by making the artist the




ITS CHIARAC1LER.              I 13
most flattering promises.  But kind words and
promises from  an emperor are meaningless and
deceitful; once made, they are soon forgotten.
The lot of the composer continued to  be  as
uncomfortable as heretof'ore.
Forced work, thle anxieties and cares of life, produced a serious change in Mozart's health.  A
trouble with the chest was brought on, and symptoms foreshadowed the end, which if not near Nwas
none the less sure.  Mozart, urged on by his
genius, devoted himself to the severest work with
unparalleled energy, disregardful of physical suffering.
He brought out two operas in quick succession: one in two acts, called Cosi fiza  /hf/te, and
the following year another, that pleasing composition, full of grace and sparkling ideas, and written
in an entirely different style from his other compositions-the Mzgic.F/iz/e.  These two operas,
like those preceding them, met with the greatest
favor from  the public, and  added much to the
celebrity of the artist.
The strength of the illustrious master was




114                MUSIC.
exhausted by too constant application and continuous ill-health. He could no longer write
without becoming extremely fatigued; he suffered also from depression and weariness, whicl
often threw  him  into the deepest melancholy
His wife, all devotion, moved by the deepest tenderness and love, made fruitless efforts to divert
him from an occupation which was evidently
wearing him out; she even went so far as to take
away his music-paper and his rough sketches,
hoping thus to hinder his working. Vain efforts 
Mozart, feeling the approach of his last days,
became feverishly eager to transfer to paper the
ideas which were crowding his brain and the
emotions which filled his heart. A melancholy
which he was unable to throw off darkened his
whole life. One day, when he was more sad than
usual, and absorbed in gloomy thoughts, an
unknown person came to his house and asked to
speak with him. " Sir," said the stranger, when
he entered Mozart's presence, "some one has lost
a very dear friend, and desires to pay homage to
his memory by having an annual service per



ITS CHARACTER.             I I 5
formed, for which he begs you to have the kindness to compose a Reguiem." Owing to the
mood in which this solemn visitor happened to find
him, Mozart eagerly accepted the offer.
"How long before you can complete the
work?" asked the stranger.  "In one month."
"What price shall you ask?"  "'One hundred
ducats."  "Here they are," said the visitor, and
withdrew.
Mozart set about the work. It would soon
have been completed had his attention not been
diverted for a time and a new direction given to
his thoughts.
The Emperor Leopold II. was to be crowned
King of Bohemia, and on this occasion there were
to be splendid feasts and ceremonies. Mozart
was commissioned by the managers of the theatre
of Prague, to write the music of an opera of Metastasio, La Clemzenzza di Tito. This order coming
in the month of August, I79I, was accepted by
the musician; he straightway set to work, and one
month later, on September I5, he wrote the last
notes of the music of this almost colossal opera.




I I6               MUSIC.
This prodigious effort of his creative genius tended
to increase the disease, and consequently the feebleness of the composer.  Eager to fulfil his
engagements, he quitted Prague, and returned tc
Vienna to resume the composition of the Requziez
which had been momentarily laid aside.
As soon as she looked on her husband, Mozart's wife realized at once her impending loss;
and then, under the pretext of having mislaid it,
she concealed the score which he had already
begun.  This unexpected disappointment had a
visible effect on the composer; but as his strength
was gradually declining, he soon seemed to grow
resigned.  This condition did not last long, however, for to his sorrow and confusion, the stranger
of the hundred ducats suddenly reappeared before
him.  Mozart made every excuse for his inability
to fulfil his promise.  " I know," said the stranger,
" how impossible it has been for you to keep your
wordcl; but how much more time would you now
need to finish your work? "  " One month,"
replied Mozart.  "Well! here are another hundlrel ducats. Adieu, for a month."




ITS CHARACTER.               117
The wretched musician had not calculated how
little of life was left him. He grew worse day by
day, and on December r5, I79I, just three months
after his return from Prague, where he had wittressed the production of the opera written in
honor of the emperor's coronation, he breathed
his last, not having yet reached his thirty-sixth
year.
The Regzuiem thus begun was finished by a
pupil of his named Sassmayer, afterward musical
director at Vienna.  We are all familiar with this
admirable composition, and though it be a masterpiece, we cannot but regret that Mozart was not
allowed to finish it with his own hand, for, without
doubt, he would have imparted a peculiar charm
to the character of this great work.
Mozart, though dying in the prime of life, left
a very large and admirable collection of musical
compositions.  He composed in all styles, and
always with success; his works include dramatic
music, symphonies, concertos, duos, trios  and
quartets, commonly called musi/que d'enzsemizble.
If fortune never smiled on him, if he was




118                MUSIC.
doomed to suffer a wretchedness which amounted
almost to despair, because unlike many artists of
the present day he possessed no business faculty,
knew nothing of avarice, a passion which too often
torments less deserving musicians, it was because
there was a certain dignity and independence in
his character which were very becoming in an
artist. If during his life-time he was not granted
the satisfaction of seeing his genius recognized in
France, it was because that nation did not possess
the musical education that it does to-day, and
because at that time it was impossible to disturb
the routine in which we must confess in many
respects we still move.  It is hardly credible
that while Germany was somewhat boastful and
justly proud of such a composer, greeting him
with cheers whenever he appeared, Paris should
show  itself utterly indifferent to that admirable
opera, the JM/-rir/age of Figar-o. It was withdrawn
after the fifth performance.
Gluck had opened the way to the grand and
the beautiful; he taught the lofty language of
passion, inspired a love for powerful dramatic




ITS CHARACTER,              I 19
situations, made effective by full choruses.
Mozart showed his superiority by greater variety
of ideas, more flexibility of style and greater
richness in concerted music; in every respect he
stood unrivalled.
Music, as we see, had made immense progress
and multiplied its resources. Musical instruments
being more numerous and much improved, artists
were able to produce greater effects; composition
became more varied in form and harmony; the
one subject of incessant study furnished more
richness, both as regards song and orchestration;
artists were at last sufficiently cultivated to be
worthy interpreters of the works of the most illustrious composers.
At this time, when dramatic music engaged
the attention of the public, with whom it was the
favorite entertainment, religious music was not
far behind, for men endowed with lofty poetical
sentiments cultivated it with success.
Cherubini, who appeared in I788 with an opera
in three acts, called De'mno5h/on, the words of
which were written by Marmontel, and Lesueur, a




120                 MUSIC.
purely French artist, religiously preserved all the
traditions of sacred music.
In Germany, composers of undoubted and
incontestable merit did their share toward advancing the progress of the art.
Weber charmed and delighted all by effects that
were unexpected, poetical and bewitching.  He
aroused the deepest sentiments of the heart, stirred
up, at his will, the tenderest as well as the most
violent passions, and by curious combinations excited the most varied emotions.  The operas of
Eutryalt/he and Oberol appeared  like  brilliant
meteors  upon the  musical horizon, and  Der
Ereysc;iiz, (Robin des Bois) hissed, treated with
contempt, and finally dismissed firom the boards
after but nine representations, was revived later,
and gained a great triumph, being performed three
hundred and twenty successive nights.  Weber
died at the age of thirty-three years.
Beethoven, a dreamy and melancholy poet,
dwelling always nearer heaven than earth, communing more directly with the ideal than the real
world, inspires us with vague emotions, full of




ITS CHARACTER.              I2I
charm and sweetness.  Deeply sensitive to the
harmonies in nature, he adapted them with unparalleled felicity, and reproduced them  with expression and feeling.  His symphonies, all of a noble
character, afford  us even to-day  inexpressible
delight, while they arouse our deepest emotions
and tenderest sensibilities.
While Germany riveted the attention of di/ettcanti upon herself, Italy, as in former times, was
destined to take the lead in a progressive movement.
A young man, a veritable artist, appeared in
the musical world. He invested art with a power
and vigor hitherto unknown.
Gifted with wonderful ease of expression and
an astonishing fertility of ideas, Rossini seemed
to ivmrovise operas, which were produced on the
stage in quick succession.  At first they were not
favorably received; some were greeted with
accents of disapproval and even hisses.  But
the young vzaestro, insensible to the attacks
directed toward him  and to the  cries uttered
around him, did not allow himself to be vexed or
6




122                MUSIC.
irritated by what he chose to regard as trifles.
Convinced as he was of the real worth of his productions, he only replied to his adversaries and
numerous critics by producing new works ever
full of happy and brilliant inspiration, and displaying a vast and dazzling wealth of resource.
Paying little regard to the old-established
forms in music, or those consecrated by custom,
he resolutely broke away from them all, and, provided such effects could be produced as were
intended, he did not hesitate to disregard all timeworn rules.  Indifferent to the charge of ignorance as regards the principles of harmony, often
launched against him, deaf to the fault-findings of
those wishing to detract from his fame, and who
were all the more fiercely opposed to him because
he never deigned to reply to anything that was
said, Rossini continued to compose unceasingly.
Full of inspiration, and sure of final triumph,
why trouble himself about the indifference and
apparent disgust of the public, when his operas
were produced? It is strange, and worthy of
mention, that his very best operas were those that




ITS CHARACTER.              I23
received the least kindly welcome, even from the
Italian people, usually so full of sympathy with
that peculiar style of music.
In I8I6, while at Rome, Rossini produced for'he first time the Barber of Seville which he
had written expressly for the theatre of that city.'He conducted the orchestra himself, and at the
same time accompanied some of the arias on the
piano. After the brilliant overture, so familiar to
us all, the chorus came on the scene, and sang
their strains of marvellous beauty and sweetness;
then Count Almaviva, wrapped in his gray mantle,
addressed Rosina from under her balcony in the
tenderest accents of love.
The plot thickened, and was unravelled in turn
to an accompaniment of most delicious, sprightly
and gay music; but the public far from being
pleased, seemed rather vexed and annoyed at
hearing such unusual melodies. The ears of the
maestro were greeted with malicious comments
and sharp ridicule, but having the greatest faith in
the ultimate success of his work, he remained
impassive at his instrument apparently indiffer



124               M' U SIC.
ent to the signs of disapproval, and showed neither
anger nor chagrin; there was even seen on his lips
the playful and mischievous smile with Nwhich we
are all so familiar. Without anxiety as to the ultimate fate of his opera, he foresaw that eventually
welcome and applause would greet the lively, graceful and droll music of his merry BaSrber.
Rossini marched with firm step along the path
he had just cut for himself. During a long series
of years Italy was the scene of his success, and
meantime his brilliant compositions remained a
sealed book to France. But this inconceivable
indifference could not last forever; the fame of
the musician was destined to reach even beyond
the Alps, to triumph over the narrow  spirit of
routine in France, to remove the obstacles usually opposed to the success of works of genius,
and to crush out all rivalry, jealousy and blind
hatred.
When Rossini's music was first heard at a
French theatre, all the critics denounced the new
comer. They attacked and abused the man who
had been so bold as to attempt to bring the public,




ITS CHARACTER.                125
those self-styled connaisseurs, out of the rut where
they had so long unconsciously lived.  All in
vain had operas of a remarkably novel style been
brought out, at a very short distance fi-om Paris;
the applause that greeted them in Italy, though it
reached our ears had failed of effect; we would
aot hear or learn anything new.
We must read the account of the first performances of t-:ossini's operas at Paris, to form
any idea of the injustice and ill-will with which
they were received, and of the violent attacks
made upon them; twenty, even thirty masterpieces had given evidence of the zmaestro's genius;
but they seemed powerless to carry conviction to
the hearts of the audience.
This obstinate dislike, unfair criticism, and
violent abuse was visited alike on the sublime
beauties of 01/htl/o, Ta'zcred, Moses, Seminramis, Count
Ory and cWiliiam Te/Z, that chief among all masterworks! Such blind prejudice recalls to our minds,
spite of ourselves, the struggle of Mozart to gain a
hearing for any of his compositions, and the hindclrances that he met with, when attempting to




126                MUSIC.
bring his operas before the public, as well as this
sad passage in a letter to his father:
"If I were only in a place where people had
ears, and hearts, and some little knowledge coim
bined with a small amount of taste, I would will
ingly laugh at the intrigues forming against me
but I am in the midst of a world composed entirel)
of animals and brutes, as far as music is concerned."
Rossini was too gifted with the divine spark
of genius not to triumph, sooner or later. The
recitatives, accompanied by rich and brilliant
orchestration, the fulness and grandeur of the
choruses, the vast wealth of melody, the powerful
dramatic element, the interest which is never
allowed to flag for an instant, the duos, trios, and
all the concerted music; in short, the fertility of
resource, the grace, richness and vivacity, which
this artist knew how to introduce so cleverly into
all his works, could not fail eventually to win the
approbation of even the most exacting critics.
They were compelled to admire, and did admire.
Rossini's music, performed almost to the exclusion




ITS CHARACTER.              127'
of works of other masters at the theatres, modified
or changed the musical taste of the public. Even
the most celebrated composers could not resist the
influence of this great maestro.  His peculiar
methods of harmonic combination and of instrumentation, as well as the originality of his melody'Lnd song, were extensively imitated, and even
copied; the musical world was full of his disciples,
or those who without studying strove merely to
imitate this great artist; some of his followers,
however, more skilful or more independent than
the  others, preserved their own individuality.
All composers of that day felt the powerful influence of this great artist; in Italy, Donizetti, Bellini, Mercadante, the two Ricci, and even Verdi
(although they are both dramatic and original);
and in France, Boieldieu, Hal1vy, Herold, Auber,
in fact the whole French school, as well as the
German musicians, Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, and
many others. All these renowned composers
have given evidence of originality, it is true, but
showed, also, that they had not been indifferent to




I28                MUSIC.
the impression produced on their mind by the
works of this great and wonderful genius.
We cannot hesitate to admit that Rossini, up
to the present time, is the greatest and most finished composer that the nineteenth century has yer
seen. There is, indeed, a peculiar kind of music
called the "music of the future;" Richard Wa:ner standing first among composers of this stylt
of music, the. man whose works are so rich in
harmony, the author of Tannhdzuscr and Lo,/engr'iiz;
there are also others, gifted like Hector Berlioz,
and many young musicians, with original talent,
but Rossini's rival or even equaZ is yet to appear.
Here we will close our little history of music.
Let us give the young artists of the new school
free scope. The works they have already given
to the world are remarkable enough to be regarded
as a fair promise for further advancement; let us
offer our heartiest wishes for their future renown
and glory, and, in the meantime, commend their
efforts as well as applaud the success they have
already attained.




PAR T  II.
CHAPTER   ll.
Sound; its cause, origin, production, and mode of transmission and propagation, according to physicists.-Its
nature and origin, according to the author.
HTIE  sense of hearing, and that of sight, occupy the position of preeminence among all
the other senses in the animal economy.  Lending each other mutual support, they are almost
always in direct communication.
T'he ear, and by this word, I mean the entire
system of hearing, is the medium  through which
we experience the liveliest sensations and keenest
emotions.  A word, a sound, an expression, excite
the most diverse and opposite passions: love and
batred, calmness and rage, courage and fear, joy
and sadness, jealousy and despair.
All the sublime virtues, such as piety, trust,
resignation, are encouraged or repressed, made
6;:




13o                 MUSIC.
inviting or unattractive, through the sense of hearing. According to the poet:
"Nemo adeo ferus est qui mitescere possit;
Si modo culture patientem accommodet aurem."
Through the sense of hearing we are warned of
danger, we form  sudden and unexpected resolutions, we learn the feeling of duty, become familiar with sentiments of honor, nobility and grandeur.
By means of this sense we gain ideas of encouragement and despair, gayety and sadness, happiness and grief; in short, we receive salutary advice,
which gives a fitting direction to our thoughts.
Sound has long been a subject of deep and
continuous study; it has undergone many experiments.
Its production, its propagation, its mode of
transmission, its cause and origin, have been investigated with the greatest care, and have given birth
to several theories.
One of these, generally accepted at the pres,ent day, however ingenious it may be, does not'
seem to me to be entirely in accordance with
established facts, for it does not explain all the




SOUND.                  13I
phenomena which we witness every day. Therefore I shall endeavor to set forth another, which to
my mind is more satisfactory; but first let us ask:
What is sound?
According to physicists, sound is an impression which the ear receives, a peculiar sensation
excited in the organ of hearing by the vibration of
bodies, when this vibration can be transmitted to
the ear by means of an intervening medium.
Others hold that it is a vibratory movement which
takes place in ponderable matter.  According to
the former, it is a quality of other bodies, especially
of the air, which produces it when under the influence of agents, causing vibration.  These defininitions do not appear to me quite exact. They
confound the effect with the cause; for an impression, a sensation, and a motion are nothing else
than the necessary, inevitable consequence of some
primitive cause.  If these impressions, these sensations, these motions, are a result; what is then
thie cause of this result, what is the principle of
this sensation, of this impression received by the
rrgtan of heari-ng? The air, they say again, is the




I32                 MUSIC.
generator of sound; but if it were so, would not
the air, always in motion, incessantly produce it?
Most undeniably.  And yet, how can we conceive
of silence?
Yes, air is undoubtedly a vehicle of sound; it
transmits it, propagates it to greater or less distances, but it does not generate it any more than
the eye generates light.  If then the definitions
given above do not account for the varied and
marvellous effects which we witness, they are inexact and worthless. What, then, is sound?  What
its origin, its cause, its nature? Under what conditions is it produced?  Under what influences is
it manifested? I will endeavor to answer these
questions.
Sound needs a medium, a vehicle for reaching
the ear. This truth is recognized by all physicists,
as well as the world at large. Air is generally
this medium; but gases, liquids, solids, and elastic
fluids have also, in different degrees, the property
of transmission.  If all these bodies have this
property, sound must be something in itself.
" When a solid body is struck," according to




SOUND.                 133
the physicists, " the integral molecules of this body
receive a sudden shock; they are displaced, they
oscillate more or less rapidly, and begin to move.
These oscillations pervade the whole of this body,
as well as those which may be in contact with it,
either directly, or by the intervention of another
body; so that when one part of the sonorous body
makes a vibration forward, it disturbs and pushes
before it the contiguous molecules.  These molecules agitate in turn those behind, set them in
motion and themselves become quiet; the latter in
turn put the molecules nearest them in motion, and
like those before mentioned fall into repose, and so
on; so that sound is propagated through the
entire solid body, and when it reaches any point
whatever, all the parts which it has traversed in
turn are at rest, unless the first part may have
recommenced vibrating.  In this case, the new
vibrations are propagated in the same manner
following each other as before.
"The  successive  movements occur in the
entire body as rapidly as communication is possible; but then we suppose alternate condensed




I34                MUSIC.
and expanded layers to exist in the body where
the vibrations take place; this arrangement we
call sonorous undulations. If the body to which
the vibrations are communicated be boundless, in
every sense, sound is transported all around the
sonorous body by means of circular waves, in a
sphere whose radius is more or less extensive"
(Beudlant, Elnzelz.s de physifule).  This motion,
which is perceptible to the hand and the eye,
communicates a certain agitation to the layers of
air surrounding the body which has been struck,
and by virtue of the buoyancy of the elastic fluid,
it is transmitted by degrees, propagated to a distance, and becomes perceptible to the ear.
Bacon and Galileo had already proclaimed
similar views; and Newton attempted to demonstrate by calculation how the transmission of sound
depends on the elasticity of the air and of the
conducting body.  He  observed also that the
effect of a sonorous body consists in the condensation of the molecules of air nearest to it, and also
in the direction of the impulse given.
These molecules of air, driven forward by the




SOUND,                 I35
impulsion of the sonorous body, rebound, owing to
their elasticity, and separate at the same time
from the sonorous body the molecules of air
directly in front, so that each molecule of air is
displaced, moving first forward and then backward; that is, there takes place, around this
body, an alternate condensation and expansion of
the air.
As is well known, there are various opinions
among those savaznts who have made a study of the
propagation and transmission of sound.  Some
contend that the molecules of even the most solid
bodies are disturbed, agitated, and displaced by
successive movements of expansion and compression; others, on the contrary, hold that sound is
produced only by the displacement and vibration
of the layers of air that are in immediate contact
with the  sound-producing  body, when  struck.
All speak, indeed, of the transmission and propagation of sound in space or in bodies, but not
one speaks of sound, in itself. All students, however, who wish to investigate, not the ultimate
cause of all things, but the tangible cause of phe



36                MUSIC,
nomena which they witness every day, should
notice this omission.
Yet I understand perfectly that the layer of
air which is nearest the body may be agitated
itself, and even partake of the same motion as the
body when the latter receives a blow, or is moved
by friction, or some other cause; I understand
perfectly that this displaced and repelled air is
alternately condensed and expanded. Again, I
understand that there would take place in the
atmosphere undulations similar to those produced by a stone falling on a liquid surface, such
as the surface of a pond; but I confess, in all
humility, my reason refuses to believe in this
expansion, contraction, and displacement that
occur in the molecules of solid bodies, such as
iron, steel, stone, brass, wood, etc.; therefore, on
this point, I differ entirely from  those savazzu's
whose theory has just been given. If the agitation of the air, its vibrations, its undulations, were
really the causes of sound, we would have a right
to inquire how it is, that very sudden vibrations
of bodies are often very perceptible, when under




SOUND.                 137
other circumstances they are hardly heard.  tlow,
when capable of being produced simultaneously
in one and the same body, they do not mingle in
such a way as to give rise to the most confused
sounds. How, also, an almost imperceptible
shock, a scratching with a nail, a pin, or even the
point of a pen, all of which are incapable of moving and disturbing the molecules of solid bodies,
can produce a perceptible sound at the end of a
long bar of iron or of wood. If the successive or
simultaneous displacements of the molecules of
matter really took place as an effect of such slight
shocks and movements, we should, with justice, be
terrified at the frightful floods of air which must
be the consequence of the agitation of great masses
of the atmosphere, such as take place in tempests
and hurricanes, or at the chaos that would be the
result of two or more sounds. What would be the
result, then, were an orchestra numbering three or
four hundred musicians to execute a symphony, or
were a cannon to be fired off?
No body, however solid we may suppose it to
Le, would be capable of resisting these displace



138                 MUSIC.
ments, these molecular vibrations, these undulations of the air!
If the views heretofore given are not correct,
then sound is elsewhere than in the molecular
vibrations of solid bodies of the atmosphere, or of
elastic fluids; let us then seek to discover its origin, essence and nature.
If we but recall the nature of imponderable
fluids, such as heat, light and electricity; if we
admit, what is accepted as truth by the whole
world, that these fluids, either latent or apparent,
are developed through the changes, or simply the
modifications of all bodies, whether solid, liquid,
or gaseous, changes produced by blows or friction,
by chemical composition or decomposition; again,
if we recall the readiness of almost all bodies in
nature to be impregnated by one or more of these
imponderable fluids, it will be very interesting to
see if, when sound is produced in resonant bodies
there is not an escape of some fluid, like magnetism, heat, electricity, light, which themselves are
different manifestations of one and the same fluid;
if, in a Nord, we may not be allowed to admit the




SOUND.                  I39
existence of a sonorous or muzsical  zidr, the name
matters little.
If the production of sound, or of the sonorous
fluid, be developed under the same conditions and
circumstances as other imponderable fluids, if it
follow the same laws, if, like them, it give rise to
similar phenomena, shall we not have some ground,
some reason, to suspect its existence? As for me,
I unhesitatingly admit it.
My belief is based on an hypothesis; but in
that I am like all physicists who thus base their
own opinion and reasoning with regard to the
existence of imponderable fluids.  Effects are
seen,-we attempt to guess at the cause.
Let us seek, then, to establish by comparison,
the similarity or identity of the sonorous or musical fluid with the other imponderable fluids. The
sonorous fluid, immaterial, imperceptible, physically speaking inherent in all bodies in nature,
like the other fluids to which it is analogous, is
manifested under peculiar influences and conditions.
Inert, latent, passive, as long as its equilibrium




I40                 MUSIC.
is undisturbed, it becomes perceptible  to the
senses as soon as this equilibrium  is broken.
Whether it be  developed  by motion, friction,
heat, compression, or chemical action, it is a wonderful and powerful agent, a generating principle
of feelings, emotions and sensations.
Like the other imponderable fluids, in order to
be made manifest, it needs instruments appropriate to its nature. Like them it has affinities more
or less decided for various substances.  Certain
bodies are good or bad conductors for it, as is the
case with the other fluids, therefore the construction of sonorous instruments should depend entirely on their fitness to conduct the sonorous fluid.
Certain laws, certain fixed rules, govern the
manufacture of instruments adapted to conduct
the electric, magnetic and caloric fluids; rules and
laws also regulate the manufacture of instruments
intended for the manifestation of the sonorous
fluid.  The instruments produce various sounds,
each affecting the ear differently, according to the
nature and arrangement of their constituent parts.
At one time the sound will be soft, velvety and




SOUND.                 I41
mellow; again, on the contrary, it will be harsh,
rouglh and disagreeable; it will be noise, for noise
is the result of discordant sounds heard simultaneously and by nature opposed to each other.
If all bodies were equally good conductors, if
at the same time, according to the opinion of physicists, the vibrations of their molecules were the
true source of sound, if the displacement alone of
the air generated it, all bodies set in motion would
be expected to produce it, which is not the case.
It happens very often, in short, that large masses
of air violently agitated, produce only dull sounds
hardly perceptible to the ear, when, on the other
hand, under certain circumstances, the slightest
cause gives rise to sharp and penetrating sounds.
Hold a piece of cloth, shake it, and you will hear
no sound, or at least, very little.  Make a tuning
fork vibrate in the open air or on a soft body, and
you will hardly perceive the sound produced; but
rest it on a. solid body, that is, a body capable of
being charged with sonorous fluid, and you will
perceive at once sounds relatively very intense.
In these different cases, the tuning-fork has had




I42                MUSIC.
the identical vibrations, the undulations of the air
have been the same, and yet the sounds have sensibly varied in their intensity and perceptibility.
There is something more, then, than mere
vibration of bodies or displacement of air in the
production of sound.
I continue the demonstration by analogy, without referring to the similarity of the sonorous to
other imponderable fluids.
As to these fluids, liquid or elastic bodies may
be good or bad conductors.  Place a certain
quantity of water in a glass, pass your finger
around the wet edges of the glass, and soft, harmonious sounds will be produced.  Combine two
gases in fixed proportions, and you will produce
noises and explosions that will break the glass.
The derangement of molecules, the disturbance of
their equilibrium, are nothing surprising, for in
the same manner as heat accumulated in a body
expands, modifies and melts it, just as the electric
fluid breaks and destroys a Leyden jar which has
been overcharged, or as too bright a light wastes
and discolors the objects with which it is kept too




SOUND.                  143
-ong in contact, thus the sonorous fluid accumulated in a body, may induce alterations, modifications and disturbances in its molecular construction
which might destroy it completely.  In what manner does sound bring about these changes? In
the same manner as light discolors certain objects,
as electricity decomposes certain matter and as
heat volatilizes certain substances.  We witness
the effects, we can only conjecture the causes.
The sonorous fluid, like heat or light, can be
reflected on the surface of objects upon which it
falls; it follows, even in this respect, the same
laxws as the other imponderable fluids, that is, the
angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence.
Hence it results that any one situated in the
focus of reflected sonorous rays will hear another
person speak even at a great distance, while individuals who are between the two foci will not hear
the least sound. In the lower rooms  of the
Louvre at Paris there are two antique bathingtubs, several m'-trs apart, and so placed as to
afford two very distinct foci of sound.  A person




1 44               M'USIC.
standing at one of these foci can hear distinctly
whatever is said, even in a low tone, by any one at
the opposite focls, while those in the intervening
space do not hear a word, or even a syllable of
what is spoken.
In one of the rooms of the Conservatoire des
Arts et Mditiers, at Paris, there are similar foci.
Two persons in opposite corners of the room can
distinguish perfectly, words pronounced by each
other in a low tone, although individuals very near
the speaker hear nothing. Are not these effects
analogous to those of concave mirrors for reflected
heat? No doubt on this point. The more numerous these foci, the more remarkable the effect.
Sometimes but one syllable is repeated by echo;
again, several may be heard. I had occasion to
take a sail on the Lake of Luco, whose waters fall
from a height over rocks and form the cascade of
Terni, one of the finest in Italy, possibly in all
Europe, and there after declaiming an Alexandrine
verse slowly and in a loud voice, I heard it echoecd
back distinctly and without alteration. Some
echoes change the sound, and impart to it a




S0UNID.                  145
plaintive or mocking tone, just as certain bodies
alter light and decompose it,  Shall we attribute
all these strange and marvellous phenomena simply
to the vibrations or undulations of the air?  I
deny it, unhesitatingly, for were it so, every one
standing between the foci, and in the midst of
these undulations and vibrations, as well as those
standing  between concave mirrers, ought to hear
what is spoken, or feel heat, which is not the case.
But it will be said, the experiments made on
rmetallic rods, and extended cords, 2have demonstrated that the  vibrations occur according to
settled rules and principles, and that along the
length or' thtese bars or cords, there were formed
what are called   a'xdes, that is to say points where
the vibrations ceased, anld were no longer perceptibleo  I regard these experiments as proof of the
correctness of muy views on sound, and its analogy
to the other imponderable fluids.,-with magnetism in particular.  In short, do -we not know that
Ymagnets do not possess throughout the same magnletic force?  Are we not aware that if a magnetic
[bar be rolled in iron filings, the latter are seen to
7




146                MUSIC.
adhere in abundance to the ends of the bar, forming bristling bunches, while the adhesion of the
filings rapidly decreases as we approach the centre
of the bar, where it amounts to nothing. That
part of the surface of the magnet, where the magnetic force is imperceptible, has been called the
neutral line, but the two points nearest the extremities, where the maximum of attraction is manifested, are called poles.
Every natural or artificial magnet presents,
then, two poles and one neutral line. This we
learn from works on physics.
If, then, the effects of the magnetic force are
such as have just been described, if there are
nodes, otherwise called two poles and a neutral
line, in every magnetic bar, are not the nodes of
metallic rods or extended cords, when put in vibration, analogous to them?
I continue, and here put the question: Why do
not all the extended cords of a musical instrument
such as a piano, violin, violoncello or guitar repeat
together the tone or cry of the voice which utters:
sounds above them?




SOUND.                 147
Why, of all the cords of the same instrument,
do those only which are in unison with this voice
produce sound? Did not the noise, the sound, the
sonorous wave, as they choose to call it, which
escapes from the mouth strike, disturb and agitate
ail the strings? Yes, but the sonorous fluid did
not find in all of these its Leyden jar, nor in any
the capacity for being charged with the sonorous
fluid. This, I think, is the explanation of the
phenomenon that can never be explained by the
theory of the molecular vibration of the bodies, or
of the undulations of the air.
If, then, certain bodies are good or bad conductors of heat, light, and electricity, the same rule
applies to the sonorous fluid. The walls of a concert-room draped with woollen hangings, the curtains and furniture of an ordinary apartment, are
poor conductors of sound; they absorb and stifle
it, just as woollen or silk stuffs of dark color absorb
heat and light.
The temperature of the atmosphere, the hygrometrical condition of the air, different hours of the




~140~         m~,iusrc.
day, have no slight influence on the development,
quality and intensity of the sonorous fluid.
A concert given on a calm lake, on a rmoonlight
evening, will produce a much more marked effect
on the listeners than would be the case should they
hear the same music in a concert-hall.  The loneliness of the place, the silence of the night, will
have, it is true, some spell on the mind and imagination of the listeners, and it is this spell, this
silence, which enables them the more readily to
receive the musical fluid.  Give an open-air concert in the midst of a noisy and excited crowd,
execute symphonies in the presence of an agitated
audience, and you will produce only a moderate
effect. The sonorous fluid, like electricity, drawn
from every direction by the mass of those present,
will charrge but a small number of them.
If by the union of piercing instruments, by
means of a large number of clarions, drums and
trumpets, a great noise l)e produced, you will impregnate the organs of hearing of the assembled
multitude with the fluid, and surprising effects will
be the result.




SOUND.                  I49
Electricity, as we all know, possesses peculiar
properties; it is positive or negative; that is,
either vi/reouzs or resinous.
Light is composed of seven different colors;
heat has its special properties; so of sounds, it
has its peculiar shades.
The rays of light decomposed by the prism,
combined, two by two, assume certain colors; the
primitive scale, made up of seven sounds, combined
according to various rules, produces different
shades of tone.  Two harmonious colors will produce a tint agreeable to the eye; two sounds, or,
to use a word which well expresses my thought, a
ray of sound combined with another analogous to
it, will produce a harmony grateful to the ear.
Rays of light, like rays of sound, can be combined indefinitely, and produce an extraordinary
variety of effects.  For instance, the red ray of
the solar spectrum combined with the blue ray
produces the tint of violet, which is agreeable
to the eye.  The blue ray, when mingled with
the yellow ray, produces the green one, which is
also pleasing; and so on with the others.  The




150                MUSIC.
red ray, on the contrary, mingled with the green
ray, produces a color disagreeable to the eye,
a false color, as it is commonly called. Sound
has also combinations grateful or unpleasant to
the ear, concords or discords. Thus the note C
sounded in connection with the note E a third
above it, will prove an agreeable consonance. C,
sounded with the F a fourth above (the interval
whose reverse gives the fifth-that is if F is the
lower note and C the upper, the interval is a fifth),
produces also a consonance; on the other hand, C
and P (an interval called a second) will be a dissonance; C and B (an interval called a sevenzt/) is
also a dissonance, and consequently both are relatively disagreeable to the ear. In electricity, when
a given quantity of the positive fluid is brought in
contact with more of the same fluid, repulsion
takes place, while if the positive fluid be brought
in contact with the negative fluid, attraction is
produced. That is to say, the fluids opposed to
each other when brought together cause attraction;
those allied to one another, produce repulsion.
The same effect takes place in the case of the




SOUND.                 151
sonorous fluid; the ray of sound A, given in connection with the ray B, for which it has no affinity,
produces a dissonance. Some sounds, then, attract,
as it were, others repel each other; hence spring
agreeable or unpleasant sensations. From these
facts practical applications might be made of which
artists should avail themselves. The painter's
talent consists in the choice and arrangement of
colors, as the musical composer's talent lies in the
arrangement and combination of sounds; in their
accord, in short.
Nature furnishes colors and sounds; the artist
uses and combines them in a way to attain a single
purpose-harmony.  If every ray of light has a
distinctive character, if electricity produces its own
peculiar phenomena, is it surprising that the sonorous fluid should have its special properties? Certainly not!  The analogy, I might almost say the
similarity, existing between all imponderable fluids,
becomes more evident as we compare them with
each other.
The vividness and intensity of the colors in the
solar spectrum, like the intensity and peculiar




15 2                AMutJSIC.
properties of sound, are singularly varied and modified by external circumstances.
At noon-day, in fine weather, when the sun's
disc is veiled by neither cloud nor vapor, the solar
spectrum presents, clearly and brightly, the seven
colors of which it is composed.  In the morning or evening of a foggy day, when the sun has
a yellow hue, as it is commonly called, the indigo
and a portion of the violet are lacking, and the
blue rays have become invisible.  When the sun is
red, the green and part of the yellow rays disappear in turn.  These phenonm.ena, brought about
by the power of reflection or refraction of the
media traversed by the ray of light, are especially
perceptible when the sun is on the horizon; only
the least refrangible rays then reach us: the others
are thrown back into the upper part of the atmosphere.
The rays of sound, a term which I employ for
want of a better to express my meaning, are also
reflected, refracted, altered and modified by the
zediia traversed, and for this reason they make
certain impressions on our feelings and thoughts,




SOUND.                  153
and fill us with infinitely varied emotions, according to the nervous sensibility of the individual
who receives them.
Sound, being an imponderable fluid, (exists
everywhere, and is inherent in all bodies. If it is
in a state of equilibrium, then, like other imponderable fluids, it is, as it were, in a latent condition, that is, in a state of silenzce; but if this
equilibrium be disturbed, like them, its presence is
made manifest. For its development it needs to
be put under peculiar conditions, and requires
instruments, as a means of manifestation. These
are to sound, what the Leyden jar is to electricity,
what iron is to  the magnet.  What Grimaldi,
Huyghens, Descartes, Malus and Fresnel say with
regard to light, may well be applied to sound.
"A very subtle fluid which pervades the entire
universe, and is generated in every direction, by
reason of a disturbance at any one point."
Man, through his own talents, has hit upon
laws which govern the construction of instruments,
and nature, aiding him in his researches, has furnished most valuable hints.  The voice of the
7*




1 54               MUSIC.
wind, the roar of the waves, the rushing of the
tempest, the cry of animals, the human voice and
language have revealed certain conditions of order
and arrangement which are necessary for this
construction.
However, I hasten to remark, although the
physicists and the manufacturers of these instruments have settled upon the volume, intensity and
extent of sound, which may be expected from them,
although too, they may have determined the laws,
and recorded carefully in books as well as taught
by practice all the details of science and experience, still all instruments constructed on the same
model, or according to the same principles and
dimensions, or of the same material, are far from
having the same tone. Musicians understand well
how to distinguish the difference of tone between
two violins, two flutes, two bassoons, etc., and this
tone, peculiar to each of them, does not lie in the
arrangement and putting together of all the parts,
since each is arranged like the other, but, in their
capability for being charged with the sonorous
fluid, just as every electrical machine does not




SOUND.                   155
possess the same facility for being charged with
electricity.
If, in this chapter, I have insisted on presenting details which are technical and dry, perhaps,
for general readers, but still very important, it is
from a desire to make my theory clear, and to
establish the analogy and similarity of the sonorous to the other imponderable fluids: that is, to
show that this fluid is cause, and not effect.




CHAPTER IV.
Capability of animals for being charged with sonorous fllid.,
-Vocal organs.
HE  capability for being charged with sonorous or musical fluid is not confined solely
to inanimate bodies in nature, for animate beings
also have this property in a very high degree.
The latter have beside, a great number of methods
for manifesting sounds.  But with all animate
beings, the chief of all methods is, without doubt,
the vocal apparatus.
It is more or less simple or complicated, according to the species; but it is not always an
indispensable means for producing articulate
sounds, for certain insects, which possess no vocal
apparatus, produce sometimes very intense sounds,
by the friction of certain parts of the body.
Man, as well as all animals provided with a




VOCAL ORGANS.               157
vocal apparatus, has no other means than this with
which to produce sound.
In man this vocal apparatus is absolutely necessary for modulating sound and uttering words.
With regard to him and other animals which possess it, it is quite complicated, and its constituent
parts are very numerous.  Without entering into
all the anatomical and physiological details, that
would hardly be intelligible to the greater portion
of readers unacquainted with the science, I may
merely mention a few of the leading principles,
instead of totally ignoring the whole subject.
The emission of the voice, and of speech, crie.,
and the infinite variety of articulate or inarticulate
sounds, are not confined, as some authors seem to
think, to the opening of the glottis, and to thei
movement of the vocal cords.
The  respiratory  organs, wind-pipe, laryn:-,
pharynx, cavity of the mouth, palate, teeth, lipc,
tongue, and nasal passages, fulfil important functions in connection with the voice, and ea:c,:h, in its
own way, assists in imparting fulness, foi:ce, depth,
accuracy or weakness to sound.  In a work by




I 5 8              MUSIC.
Geoffrey St. Hilaire, published a longtime ago, an
opinion was set forth, the truth of which is generally recognized even to-day.  "It is an undeniable
fact, and supported by abundant evidence as well
as admitted by those even who maintain the larynx
to be the seat of the voice (though they agree that
it is but the principal organ used for emitting it),
that every part of the respiratory organs is employed in giving utterance to sounds. I admit
that the larynx and glottis have an important place
in the phenomenon which we are now considering,
but I positively deny that they are the only essential organs. The bones, muscles, nerves and cartilage contribute respectively to the formation of
voice and speech."
Analyzing the office that belongs to each of
these, the physiological savant considers the thyroid (Adam's apple) as a sonorous body. It fills
the same place in the vocal system as that of a
"sounding board," in pianos and other instruments. On this assumption, Geoffrey St. Hilaire
attributes the difference of tone between individual




VOCAL ORGANS.               159
voices, to the difference of size, form and tissue of
this organ in each individual.
The thyroid, of very delicate consistency during the years of infancy, gives a sharp tone to the
voice. Later, having become firmer in texture,
though still maintaining its original condition
of cartilage, it imparts more clearness, fulness and
extent to the voice.
At the age of puberty, the organs become
stronger, the muscles are developed, and the voice
breaks, as it is called. Then the muscles being
more firm and powerful, keep the thyroid in constant motion, but eventually it becomes almost
solid, and is then able to resist their action. By
this time, being covered with granulations, it
becomes ossified, loses its elasticity, and renders
the voice deeper and more harsh.
These different conditions and modifications
explain why the voice, in the case of women,
children and castra/i, whose muscular system has
never been fully developed, is high and clear; that
of adults deep; and that of old men, thin, sharp,
and out of tune, as it were. The voice becomes




I60                 MUSIC.
hoarse, when the sonorous body has lost its elasticity, or when it has not been carefully managed,
as is the case with public criers and street hucksters.
Being careful of one's inzstrument, as singers
express it, is, trying to make use of precautions to
prevent the too rapid ossification of the thyroid;
to abuse it, as public criers do, hastens this development, and incurs the danger of bringing it prematurely into a state similar to that peculiar only
to old age.
In assigning such an important rcle to the
thyroid, Geoffrey St. Hilaire seems to me to make
it of too much consequence, for the glottis, vocal
cords, wind pipe, cricoid and arytenoid cartilages
which form part of the larynx, can with justice lay
claim to a full share in the phenomena which go
to make up the voice. The same is true of the
interior of the cheeks, of the teeth, tongue, lips,
and nasal passages, all of which contribute powerfully to the manifestation and modulation of the
voice, and consequently of speech.
Song, too, is capable of endless variety of




VOCAL ORGANS.               i6I
shading dependent on the separation of the jaws,
the movements of the muscles which stretch or
relax the vocal chords and move the cricoid and
arytenoid cartilages more or less; in short, cause
numerous changes in the mutual relations of all
these organs.
From the preceding remarks, the following
practical suggestions may be arrived at: if we
wish the voice to retain its freshness and liquid
tone, and would impart to it flexibility and lightness, we must carefully manage the action of
the muscles attached to the bony or cartilaginous
parts of the vocal apparatus. The more the
muscles are kept active and free, in other words,
the more easily they can be contracted and relaxed,
the greater will be the flexibility of the voice. The
teacher who would give singing-lessons, should
order that the muscles of the cricoid and thyroid,
as well as arytenoid, and those connected with
them, be exercised gently.  He ought to devote
special attention to having muscles which work in
opposition to these, kept at rest, or at least exercised very moderately.




I62                MUSIC.
This regard to the management of the muscles,
and these precautions, will go far toward improving
the voice, and will add charm and power to the
music that it gives forth.
The effects produced by sound, or rather by the
sonorous or musical fluid, are far from being fleeting or transient. This fluid, acting directly upon the
nerves, and in perfect harmony with the solids and
liquids that pertain to the whole animal economy,
often impregnates them to an incredible degree.
Let us recall the effects produced on our whole
being by listening to music that deeply touches our
feelings, particularly the trembling of our limbs,
the agitation of our nerves, the emotions of pleasure or sadness, of calmness or joy, caused thereby;
also the sensations we experienced, the sentiments
and passions aroused in us, and we will have a
proof of the lasting effect of the action of the sonorous fluid on our organs. No-as Gretry says,
"The musical sentiment is not fleeting, like a substance enclosed in a vase, and which evaporates
when coming into contact with the air." It has,
on the contrary, a deep and lasting effect. What




VOCAL ORGANS.              I63
lover of music has not often been tormented
and harassed to some degree, by the recurrence to his memory of certain airs which, spite
of all he may do, cannot be driven from his
thoughts.  Constantly mindful of them, they vex,
absorb, torment and irritate him. They perpetually recur, and it is impossible for his attention to
be completely diverted. He recalls the variety of
shading, but often, when trying to reproduce them
with his voice, they vanish from his memory, and
he fails to be able to give them audible expression.
Besides, in listening to a succession of chords,
do we not foresee, do we not have a presentiment,
as it were, of what is to follow? Do we not experience a pleasurable sensation of a;zicaicaion, if I
may be allowed such an expression.
Whence arise these varied phenomena?  Are
they the effect of the memory alone? It may be,
as regards those we have already heard, but it
cannot be the case with those which do not exist,
and which we can only conjecture. In such instances there is a physiological, magnetic, and
possibly electric effect, but the effect of the sono



I64                MUSIC.
rous fluid can also be detected. Our organs are imbued with it, or they are in a condition to become so.
Other analogous effects occur every day, without our being able to explain their cause, otherwise
than by the presence of a fluid inherent in our
organs. Remain for a long while within hearing
of a continued noise, and you will retain this noise
in your ears for a longer or shorter time after it
has ceased, according to your sensibility, and by
this word I mean the aptness of these organs to
receive or develop the fluid just mentioned.
Travel in a carriage or on a steamboat for some
hours, or rather for some days, and long after your
journey is over, you will still feel the motion and
hear the noise to which you have been subjected.
After having been long on the water, you will seem
to perceive an oscillation not only in liquids but
in solids, as if an aura surrounded all bodies.  Is
it not the fluid still within us that preserves and
keeps alive these impressions?
In all that we call antipathy and sympathy,
can we not recognize again, beside the existence
of the magnetic, that of the sonorous fluid?? We




VOCAL ORGANS.               165
often see a man for the first time, whom we do
not know, have never even heard spoken of, and
with whom we have had and are perhaps never to
have any connection, and yet we feel a lively inter
est in him; an indescribable something attracts or
repels us; in a word, we experience feelings of
sympathy or antipathy. And why should there be
any attraction or repulsion between this man and
ourselves? It is because the magnetic, like the
electric fluid, acts positively or negatively; it either
attracts or repels.
It is a singular fact, too, that if we make the
acquaintance of this same individual, if we hear
him speak, and exchange a few words with him,
both the sound of his voice, and intonation of his
speech, will perhaps influence us straightway to
change our opinion as regards him. His musical
fluid, finding its harmonious counterpart in us, will
cause our antipathy to give place, if not to a sudden sympathy, at least to a feeling of kindliness.
Do we not observe similar phenomena every day
in our social life or at the theatre; are we not
very often full of enthusiasm over some operatic




i 66               MUSIC.
singer for whom we had but little sympathy before
listening to the tones of his voice. If we deny the
existence of the sonorous fluid, is it not inexplicable why under certain circumstances we feel an
urgent need for hearing music, or singing, or simnply making a noise of some kind? Why under other
circumstances do we prefer silence, and listen with
the greatest indifference to the musical composition
which we once so warmly applauded and which at
any other time than the present we would applaud
again? Why this change, this anomaly? It evidently depends upon the favorable condition of the
organs for receiving or being charged with the musical fluid. This condition is the real reason why
on certain days singers give us false tones, spite of
all their efforts, zeal and good-will to sing correctly, and however good the condition of their
vocal organs may apparently be. They are however the same organs to-day as yesterday; their
mutual relations physically are the same, but their
condition is not favorable for receiving the sonorous
fluid. If the vibrations of the air and of musical instruments are the cause and origin of sound, they




VOCAL ORGANS.              i67
ought constantly to produce the same effects, emotions and sensations, under the same conditions
of time and place, which is, in reality, not the case.
The Leyden jar and the electrical machine always
remain the same, but they do not always produce
similar effects, as regards power and force, with an
equal degree of sensibility.
From all these facts may we not reasonably
conclude that by regarding sound as an imponderable fluid, and our organs as means of manifestation, we can perfectly account for these wonderful,
strange, and hitherto unexplained phenomena which
we witness daily; also, that there is a strong and
close bond between us and those bodies surrounding us, which is felt and realized in a multitude of
events connected with every-day life; that this
bond, call it sympathy, antipathy, magnetism-the
name matters little-is manifested every day, every
hour, every second, bringing in its train wonderful
and extraordinary effects; that the existence of the
sonorous or musical fluid, like heat, magnetism,
and electricity, is established by the analogy in
their mutual relations and in the consequences




i68                MiUSIC.
that arise from them.  New experiments will one
clay throw a more brilliant light on this scientific
point. In the meantime we must admit that sound,
a pure and simple emanation, a physical characteristic of all bodies, a special fluid, or simply a
modification of other imponderable fluids pervading all nature, always capable of being manifested,
can, like heat, light and electricity, be combined
and modified in a thousand and one different ways,
so as to bring about the most curious and interesting results.
The combination of sounds among themselves,
with occasional intervals between, has received the
name of music, and this art, or science as we
should call it, has a great power over the whole
animal economy, and an influence that has been
noted and acknomwledged even from earliest ages.
Let us cast a glance, then, at the phenomena
that it produces; let us study its effects, in
order to use them, if we can, to assuage human
suffering.
This study, I know, may appear, if not ridiculons, at least of no use, to certain minds, which are




VOCAL ORGANS.              I6)
exclusively engaged in seeking out pharmaceutical
and chemical means for treating diseases. But I
hope that the truly philosophical minds will not
regard the subject as entirely undeserving of attention. With Plato they will say, "Music, that perfect model of elegance and precision, was not given
to men by the immortal Gods with the sole view
of delighting and pleasing their senses, but rather
for appeasing the troubles of their souls and the
sensations of discomfort which imperfect bodies
must necessarily undergo."
8




CHAPTER V.
Effects of music on animate and inanimate objects.-Its
influence on the physical organization.,S we have already seen, all races, from  the
most remote ages, have devoted special attention to music. It was subject to perpetual changes,
while keeping pace with the various transformations among the different nations.  But, on the
other hand, producing everywhere similar results
and phenomena, whether on animate or inanimate
bodies, it has always been an object of study and
and wonder.  Hence, a marvellous power was
attributed to it, and it was the source of a multitude of fables in which exaggeration and imagination played the chief part.  But all the stories and
fables to which it has given rise, however improbable they may be, nevertheless bear witness to its
importance and its power of fascination.
Among the Creeks, Apollo invented the lyre,




EFFECTS ON OBJECTS.            171
and by playing upon it soothed the vigilant Argus
to sleep.  Orpheus tamed wild beasts by the bewitching tones of his voice.
Amphion erected the walls of Thebes by means
of his songs. Terpander restored a rebellious
people to their allegiance through his melodies,
and Tyrtoeus aroused a whole army to action by
the sound of his flute. The legislators of antiquity
utilized music as a method of government, and the
philosophers and sages of Greece were the first to
recognize the fact that it had a salutary influence
on the prosperity and moral welfare of the people.
Plato did not hesitate to say that no change
can be made in music, without a similar one being
made in the state, and he claimed that tones could
be selected, capable of arousing malice, insolence,
and their opposites.
Aristotle, Plato's antagonist, agreed with him on
this point, and Polybius, in speaking  of that
musical race of Arcadia, contrasts the gentleness
of their manners with the cruelty of the Cynetes,
who neglected the cultivation of music. All have
admitted that music had power to calm base pas



s 72               ir MUSIC.
sions, and bring noble ones into play.  Everywhere, even  among the most barbarous people, religious ceremonies and sacrifices were
accompanied by songs or cries, according to the
passions, customs and manners of the race.
The blood-thirsty Nero laid aside for a moment
his fierce and cruel nature, to dispute for the musical prize in Greece.  Surrounded by musicians,
he seemed while in their midst to forget his
implacable feelings of vengeance.
Amurat IV., that cruel fratricide, shed tears
when listening to a performer on the psaltery, and
pardoned those whom he had just condemned to
death.
According to Galien, a certain Damon of
Miletus played on the flute in the Phrygian mode,
and roused some young men who had partaken too
freely of wine almost to madness  soon after, he
modulated into the Doric mode, and restored these
furious youths to the most perfect calmness.
Gibbon, in the last volume of his work on the
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, observes
that it is proved by experiment that the action




EFFECTS ON OBJECTS.             173
of sound, while accelerating the circulation of the
blood, affects the human frame more powerfully than eloquence itself.  He then cites the following anecdote, contained in an account of a
journey through England and Scotland:
According to the most ancient traditions, the
bagpipe has always been the favorite instrument
of the Scotch, since it was first introduced into the
country at a very remote period, by the Norwegians.  The larger one figures in their battles,
funeral processions, weddings and on other great
occasions; the smaller sized one is devoted to dancing music.  Certain martial airs, called pibroc/is,
produce the same effect on the natives of the Highlands as the sound of trumpets does on their chargers, and sometimes even miracles are performed
almost equal to those attributed to the music of
Greece.
At the battle of Quebec, in the month of April,
I768, while the British troops were retreating in
disorder, the commander complained to a staff
officer of Fraser's regiment, of the bad behavior of
his corps. " Sir," replied the latter with some




jI A7.           MUSIC.
warmth, "you made a great mistake in forbidding
the bagpipes to be played; nothing animates the
Highlanders to such a degree, at the hour of battle; even now they might be useful."  " Let them
be played as much as you please," answered the
commander, "'if that can recall the soldiers to
their duty."
The musicians received the order to play the
favorite martial air of the Highlanders; as soon as
the latter heard the familiar tones, they paused in
their flight and returned with alacrity to their post.
In the Peninsula war, Sir Eyre Coste, being
firmly convinced of the attachment felt by the
Highlanders for the music of their native country,
gave them fifty pounds after the battle of Porto
Nuovo with which to buy bagpipes, as a token of
his satisfaction with their conduct on that day.
(Anecdotes from Waverley Novels. Walter Scott's
notes in the novel, The Fair Maid of Perth.)
Do we not also read of numerous and wonderful instances of the power of music in the history
of our own country?
During our great and immortal revolution,




EFFECTS ON OBJECTS.            I7 
while the excitement was at its height, at that
moment when Europe allied against us was pouring
her countless armies over our frontiers, did we not
see the whole nation march to combat and to victory cheered by the noble and patriotic tones of
the Marseillaise and the Caznt du D4aP(r/?
This magnetic power of harmony, as  Pa. P.
Kircher so emphatically expresses it, pervades all
objects in nature. Inert as well as animate bodies,
those that are rough-hewn and hardly defined
or perfect and complete, all alike yield to its sway.
The strand resounds beneath the breaking waves;
fearful sounds issue from the tempest-beaten rock,
and the trees of the forest, agitated by the wind,
fairly roar.
Sound penetrates all bodies, and if music is
performed in a room, theatre or church, it is no
rare thing to hear the furniture, boxes, or altar,
resound in unison with the instruments.  The
sound seeks its harmonious counterpart, unites
with it, impregnates the molecules of the bodies
where it accumulates, modifies them, andl i'terls
their mutual arrangement. A glass may be broken




176                MUSIC.
by the powerful voice of a singer, in the same way
as a metallic rod may be melted by the current
of the electric fluid, or expanded by the accumulation of a certain amount of heat.  A pillar in a
cathedral at Rheims trembles, it is said, at the
sound of a drum or trumpet which is struck or
sounded in the middle of the nave. Can these
surprising effects be produced by the vibration of
the air, I ask?
Is the undulatory movement powerful enough
to put in vibration and displace the molecules of
these compact, solid masses? Certainly not  If
the glass be broken, if the church pillar be shaken,
it is because the sonorous fluid acts upon them as
electricity and heat act on the objects which they
penetrate.
if from the inert, we pass to the animate
objects in nature, we shall see an infinite array of
curious and unexpected phenomena opening
before us. We shall discover all kinds of sensations, emotions and passions. We shall witness
most novel, varied and interesting sights. In one
place we shall behold scenes of enthusiasm;




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   177
ecstasy or frenzy, in another, great agitation of
mind, recklessness of spirit, and even convulsions
of the limbs; in every instance, the effects will be
extraordinary and wonderful.
Animals are not all equally sensitive. The
tones and harmonies of music do not produce in
each an equal amount of pleasure or pain: therefore the effects which result vary according to the
species as well as according to the individual.
Noise serves generally as a warning to anima',-ls.
it arouses the instinct of self-preservation, makes
them aware of the danger that is threatening, and
sometimes even gives them an idea of its extent.
Some animals utter cries for the purpose of fascinating or frightening their enemies.  The serpent
charms by look the prey he wishes to devour; the
torpedo benumbs and paralyzes by discharges of
electricity the enemy which pursues him; and, in
the case of other animals, their cries terrify and
put to flight the foe that is hunting them down or
lying in wait for them.
At the roaring of the lion, the horse and the
camel tremble in the desert; the sheep and the




178                MUSIC.
dog shudder with terror when the wolf howls, and
the instinct which causes this agitation, is, beside
being the sense of self-preservation, a phenomenon
essentially magnetic.  If this be the case-and for
my part, I am very much disposed to admit it-we
can readily understand the effect of the grunting
of the boar on the elephant, or of the crowing of
the cock on the lion.
These extraordinary phenomena produced by
rozzg/z sounds, if I may be allowed the expression, will become much more wonderful still,
when they result from a series of harmonies, combined according to strict rules, that is to saymusic.
Without speaking of the schools of music-mad
dolphins, which as some poets relate, came to the
surface of Lake Lucrino, to carry some flute-players on their backs to the opposite shore of the
lake; without placing any faith in the stories of
flocks being fattened by the notes alone of the
shepherds who were tending them; without even
recalling the tradition of those rats that, according
to Bourdelot, danced, keeping time to the instru



INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I79
ments, at the Fair of St. Germains, and, to use his
own words, which he saw execute very complicated dances with the greatest precision; without
paying serious attention to these various fables,
we will relate facts which may easily be verified
should any one doubt their authenticity.
Be present when a bird is having a lesson on
the bird organ, observe him carefully, and you
will notice that at the very first sound he opens
his eyes, becomes very attentive, approaches the
bars of his cage, and the gentle shaking of his
wings, as well as the trembling of his body, show
that he is affected by the sounds to which he is
listening.  If his lesson be prolonged for some
time, and his organs become impregnated with the
musical fluid, you will soon hear him warble, in
low tones, some of the notes he has just heard.
By dint of many repetitions and numerous patient
attempts, the pupil will attain such perfection, in a
longer or shorter time, according to his musical
capabilities (by this, I mean, his capacity for receiving the sonorous fluid), that he will eventually




I So              1MUSIC.
be able to repeat the air that you have played to
hiin on the bird-organ.
The story of the spider which visited Pelisson
in prison is familiar to us all; and Gretry in his
Essays on Music laments the tragic death of a
music-mad spider that one of his friends crushed.
This little insect used to descend by its thread on
to the composer's piano, as soon as the latter
began to play. Bees that have escaped from their
hive are easily brought back by the sound of cymbals, or of pans and kettles.
The horse, e:xcited by martial music or the
sound of the clarion, grows restive, runs, and
plunges furiously into the midst of the fray, and
the thickest of the fight.
Dogs are keenly sensitive to the sound of certain instruments. Military music makes some of
them  utter woful cries. With others the same
effect is produced by the sound of stringed instruments. Gretry observes that these animals howl,
particularly when the discords are long sustained,
but never if the melody is simple, or if the rhythm
is appropriate to the chase or to battle.




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I  I
Richard Mead, in his dissertation De larantula,
relates the following circumstance: A violinist,
while playing one day on his instrument, noticed
a dog by his side; the animal was strangely
affected by a certain tone; he howled fearfully
and was apparently greatly distressed. The musician, struck by this circumstance, sustained the
tone considerably longer than usual, and, at the
same time, carefully observed the animal's attitude.
The latter, became violently excited, uttered plaintive cries, and seemed in a state of agony. The
musician, anxious to know how the experiment
would end, continued playing the same composition, when the poor animal being thrown into a
paroxysm of anguish, was seized with fearful convulsions, and, the  music  not ceasing, finally
breathed his last.
In this very curious instance, the dog, I have
no hesitation in saying, died as much from being
struck by the sonorous fluid, as if he had been
affected by a discharge from an electric battery.
This influence of sounds, or of the musical
fluid on animals, becomes more plain to us, upon




182                IITUlITC.
hearing of the experiment tried at the Jardin des
Plantes> and recorded in a pamphlet which, luckily, has just fallen under my eyes.
" The Ioth Prairial, of the year VI., a concert
was given to the elephants in the Jardin des
Plantes, and the effect produced was as follows:
The artists were the brothers Rousseau, the elder
Adrien, Guichard, Chol, Chlart, Devienne, Neitioffer, Fedlix, Delcambre, Frdedric, Lefebvre, Veillant, all distinguished musicians, and the majority
of them connected with the Conservatory of
M/lusic.
" The orchestra, arranged so that it could not
be seen by the elephants, was in a gallery above
their cages, and the players were ranged around
a trap-door, which was opened at the beginning of
the performance. The two animals, male and
female, were named Hans and Marguerite.  They
were allowed to occupy the two cages that constituted their abode, and could both walk freely
from one to the other. Everything was ready, and
a profound silence reigned; the trap-door was
noiselessly opened, and the concert began by a




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I83
trio in B major, consisting of airs with variations
in moderate ternio, for two violins and a doublebass.
"Hardly were the first notes heard, when
Hans and Marguerite, their attention being roused,
ceased eating the dainties provided by their keeper.
Soon they approached the place whence the sound
issued. The trap-door opened above their heads;
the queerly shaped instruments, of which the ends
alone were visible; the musicians suspended, as it
were, in mid-air; the invisible harmony, which they
tried to reach with their trunks; the silence of the
spectators, the impassiveness of their own keeper;
everything, in fact, seemed to inspire them with curiosity, astonishment and anxiety. They marched
around the trap-door while raising their trunks
toward the opening, and from time to time, stood
on their hind feet; they then went to their keeper
as if seeking to be caressed, turned away again,
apparently more and more restless, and looked at
those about them, as if they feared being caught
in some trap. But these nervous movements soon
ceased, and then, yielding themselves up, without




[SA                MUSIC.
evident anxiety, to the delicious sensations occasioned by the music, they seemed conscious of
nothing beside.
" The happy influence was especially noticeable
at the end of the trio, which the performers closed
with the dance music in B  minor from Gluck's
pAzige-nia inz _zTu-is, a music of a wild and
strongly marked character, which imbued the animals, as it were, with its own peculiar rhythm.
From their movements and their gait, now accelerated, now  slackened, sometimes uneven and
again regular, one would have said they were following the undulations of the song and the beats
of the measure. They often bit the bars of the
cages, grasped them with their trunk, and pressed
the weight of their body against them, as if the
space were too limited to enable them to give expression to their feelings, and they longed for more.
Piercing cries and hisses at times escaped them.
Are these caused by joy or anger? the keeper was
asked. "Certainly not by anger," was his reply.'" The passion of which they gave evidence,
soon calimed down, or rather gave place to another,




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   185
when the air, Ohk ma /lendzre musetle, was performed in
C minor on the bassoon alone and without accolmpaniment.
"The simple and tender melody of this romance, rendered still more touching by the melancholy tone of the bassoon, attracted them as if
by magic. They walked a few steps, and paused
to listen; then they placed themselves directly
beneath the orchestra, flourished their trunks a
little, and seemed absorbed with amorous emotions; it is noticeable that while this air lasted
they uttered no sound, their movements were
slow, measured, and partook of the gentleness
of the song.
"' But both were not equally fascinated. While
Hans remained as indifferent and cautious as
usual, Marguerite became quite impassioned and
demonstrative. This dumb show assumed a phase
of agitation and excitement, when the merry and
lively tones of the air Ca ira was given in D by
the whole orchestra. It might be inferred from
their ecstasy and cries of joy, sometimes low, and
again in a high key, but always with varied intona



i 86             OMUSIC.
tions and also from their hissing, and moving to
and fro, that the rhythm of this air, of which the
teiqvo is gradually quickened, was continually urging them on to more rapid motion, forcing them,
as it were, to keep pace with itself.
"But happily the invisible power that had
excited these creatures to such a degree could
also calm their agitation, and the sweet harmony
of two human voices repeating an adagio from
the opera Dardazus, allayed their violent excitement, and they became quiet.
"' These effects, however wonderful they may
appear, ought not to astonish us, if we but reflect
that the passions of animals, like those of human
beings, have naturally an absolute rhythmical
character, totally independent of all education
and custom.
"Music may have the power of arousing and
exciting the passions if we distinguish the movements which accompany such passions, and the
accents which give evidence of their existence. It
can change or calm the emotions, at will, by combinations expressing the time, order and succession




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I87
of the various movements that contribute the
outward evidence of these emotions.
"But nothing better proves this relation and
close correspondence of rhythm and melody with
the movements and accents called forth by passion, than the indifference of these elephants
when, for the second time, the air Ca ira, was
played, immediately after that from Dardanus, the
key only being changed from D to F. It was
indeed the same song, but the expression was no
longer tile same; the same harmony was still
there, but it had lost its original force; the temzpo
of the piece was the same as before, but it was less
lively, and  the  rhythmical accents were  exchanged.
" Other airs were played, such as the overture to
Ze Devin du Village, which excited them to positive
gayety; La Charmante Gabrielle plunged them into
a species of languor; then Ca ira was repeated
for the third time, but in D, as it was first played,
when the same symptoms were manifested as at
the first hearing, the same agitation, the same
frenzy and ecstatic delight."




i88                MUSIC.
To bring to a close this account of the effect of
music on animals, which might be prolonged to an
indefinite length, I Awill relate a fact known to
my personal experience. It occurred in the suburbs of Naples. While sitting under the shade of
a great tree, I was humming the air of an Italian
opera. Looking out toward the country I was admiring its great beauty, when I heard close by me
a rustling of dry leaves that made me shudder.  I
looked toward the place whence the noise proceeded, and perceived all around me a large number of those small greenish-gray lizards so common
in Italy. Upon my moving, these animals retreated.  I thought no more about them, but
began to whistle the air I was previously humming.
To my great astonishment I saw my listeners, who
had a moment before disappeared, reassemble
around me. Then I watched them with special attention, and at the same time continued to whistle.
I thought I detected in them something like pleasurable sensation, made evident by the movement
of their sides, the trembling of their bodies, and
the expression of their eyes. I studied them still




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I89
more carefully, and endeavored to sustain the
tones with still greater accuracy. The lizards
being charmed, perhaps even fascinated, seemed
to take such keen delight in these tones, that they
apparently felt perfect confidence in me, and were
no longer frightened at my movements, which were
as gentle as possible, and allowed me even to
bring my hand so near as to be able to touch them.
This first experiment was too interesting not to
be again tried, and every time I had an opportunity to repeat it, the same result ensued.  If my
voice, which is not a fine one, but still is trzue,
could have such an influence on these animals,
usually so timid, how powerful would be a harmonious and sweet voice, such as we sometimes hear.
The Britiszh Review  for the month of August,
i865, contains the following anecdote  "In Hall's
expedition to the Polar Sea, in search of Sir John
Franklin, Sterry; one of the crew, endeavored to
harpoon the porpoises that were sporting around
the ships, but as these sly creatures were. not eager
to come within reach of the weapons, the clever
sailor tried to attract them by whistling.  The




go                 MUSIC.
whales and porpoises, according to him, can never
resist the fascination of this music."
If music, or rather the musical or sonorous
fluid, produces phenomena such as we have just
mentioned, upon animals, what will be its effect on
the physical, moral and intellectual nature of man,
a prey to such varied feelings, emotions and passions. Music will be a delightful pleasure and a
source of infinite enjoyment to some; in others it
will produce uneasiness, ennui, suffering and even
distress; in all, without exception, it will arouse
sensations and impulsive emotions of some kind.
"There are," according to Cabanis, " peculiar
combinations of sounds, and even of single tones,
that affect all the faculties of sense; these, by their
immediate action upon the soul, arouse certain
sentiments over which they seem  to have special
power, in accordance with the primitive laws of
organization.
"Tenderness, melancholy, sombre grief? gayety,
merriment, martial ardor and rage, can be sometimes aroused and again calmed, by songs of most
wonderful simplicity; they will be so all the more




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   I91
surely, if the songs are very simple, and the phrases
which compose them  shorter and easily comprehended."  No i there does not exist a being who
cannot find its harmonious counterpart in nature,
and cannot feel an affinity for certain sounds that
meet his ear! What is more extraordinary, and
proves still more clearly the existence of the musical or sonorous fluid, is that, according to Grimaldi, its influence is not perceptible exclusively
to the organ of hearing.  Its effects are sometimes
seen in deaf people, or in those who stop up their
ears; many of these feel a kind of fluttering at the
pit of the stomach, or a very marked contraction
in the throat.
Vanswieten relates the story of a young girl
whose muscles became convulsed on hearing a
clock strike, and the author of this work has, more
than once, while seated at his piano, experienced
spasmodic movements of the throat and muscles,
when playing certain strains.
Gretry, that learned observer and expert on the
subject before us, mentions a surprising effect of
music on the heart and the circulation of' the
blood.




192                 MUSIC.
"I placed," said he, " three fingers of my rigiht
hand on the artery of my left arm, or on any other
artery in my whole body, and sang to myself an
air, the tmcnpo of which was in accordance with the
action of my pulse; some little time afterward, I
sang with great ardor, an air in a different tempo,
when I distinctly felt my pulse quickening or
slackening its action to accommodate itself by degrees to the /tevno of the new air. After all this,"
he adds,' can it be said that the ancients were
wrong in maintaining that music had the power
of exciting or calming individuals of a healthy
organization who were passionate lovers of this
art! "  I have tried this experiment of Gretry's
on myself, and the results have often been similar
to those obtained by the illustrious composer.
Berlioz, that musician so full of originality, so
little appreciated, and so sharply criticised, relates
in forcible and highly colored language, the effects
produced on hini by hearing music of which he
was particularly fond.  "Nothing in the world,"
said he, "' could give an exact idea of the effect, to
any one who has never experienced it.  My whole




INFLUENCE ON ORGANIZATION.   193
being seems to vibrate; at first it is a delightful
pleasure, in which reason does not appear to participate at all. The emotions, increasing in direct
ratio with the force or grandeur of the composer's
ideas, produce, little by little, a strange agitation
in the circulation of the blood; my pulses beat
violently; tears, which usually give evidence of
the crisis of a paroxysm, indicate only a progressive stage, and greater excitement and agitation
is to follow. When the crisis is really reached,
there occur spasmodic contractions of the muscles, a trembling in all the limbs, a total numbness of the feet and hands, a partial paralysis of
the nerves of vision and hearing: I no longer
can see, and  can hardly  hear-vertigo-semiconsciousness-"
These effects on the organs are not the only
ones that have been observed: varied experiences
have already been related. The celebrated caz1ttrice Malibran, on hearing for the first time
Beethoven's symphony in C minor, at the Conservatory, was thrown into such convulsions that
she had to be carried from the room.
9




CHAPTER  VI.
Effects of music on morals and the intellect.
THE  phenomena produced by music on the
physical constitution of man are certainly
very extraordinary, but their effect on his moral
nature and intellectual faculties are much more
marvellous. Countless instances have been related by authors on music, and each day shows
us facts which seem almost like miracles.
As is related in the Book of Kings, Saul disobeyed the Lord; thereupon the Spirit of the Lord
departed from him, and he was tormented by the
spirit of evil. The king's officers asked permission to bring into his presence a young man who
could play on the harp, that he might hear its tones
when he was possessed by this evil spirit. The
king consented, and David was brought before
him; each time that the tormenting spirit sent by
the Lord took possession of Saul, David touched




MORALS AND INTELLECT.          I95
his harp, and the king was comforted and became
calm again, for the spirit of evil left him (Ch.
xvi., 14, I6, 23).
Timotheus, while playing on the lyre the air
known to the Greeks by the names of Ortias, could
either rouse Alexander to fury, and invite him to
take arms at once, or could easily quiet him.
Pythagoras, seeing a young man transported
with rage, on the point of destroying his faithless
mistress, begged a musician to play some air in
the Dorian mode, and the anger and excitement
of this betrayed lover, giving place to the most
perfect calmness, he renounced all plans for
revenge.
Ulysses, according to some ancient authors,
was indebted to the gentle and chaste songs of the
musician Phenius, for the fidelity of his wife
Penelope; and Clytemnestra only yielded to the
importunities of NEgisthus, after the base murder
of the musician Demadocus, the guardian placed
by Agamemnon, king of kings, to watch over his
wife's virtue.
Such extraordinary effects upon the morals




X96                MUSIC.
would need to be verified in our day, for, if the
efficiency of the method employed in similar circumstances, were admitted as authentic, I know of
more than one husband who would be eager to
place one or even several flute-players as guard
over his wife. But alas!    Au/re ternps, aulres
mzwzirs " I very much doubt whether the virtue of
wives and the honor of husbands would be protected in our time and age, by the harmonies of any
music, however chaste it might be. The style that
we listen to every day, seems to me, on the contrary, more likely to excite the amorous passions,
than quiet them; and in Italy as in France, in
England as in Germany, husbands know too well
the influence of the voice of a young and beautiful
singer, on their beloved wives, or the power of a
skilful and sentimental instrumentalist.
Could it be otherwise?  Love, this secret,
deep-felt, and natural emotion, which leads all
creatures to seek companionship with others of its
kind, which brings them together for mutual enjoyment, almost always springs into existence
under conditions of happiness and health.




MORALS AND INTELLECT.           197
Final end and aim of man, and of all animate
creation, love subdues even the most rebellious
natures.
Music, by preserving a perfect equilibrium and
harmony in all the organs, and filling the heart
with tender sentiments, makes those who are sensitive to it, susceptible of a happiness amounting
almost to a sweet delirium. It is so natural to
love, to enjoy, without effort or exertion, the sweet
tones of an emotional composition this is so
delightful and intoxicating that we yield to our
inclinations before we are aware of it.
But music, unfortunately, does not always produce such sweet sensations, does not always
arouse such tender passions, for sometimes, on the
other hand, it produces effects that are followed
by terrible catastrophes.
A young musician of Provence, swayed by the
passionate emotions inspired in him from witnessing the representation of the opera La Vestace by
Spontini, could not endure the idea of descending
to our prosaic world on emerging from the heaven
of poesy which had just been disclosed to himl;




198                MUSIC.
he wrote to his friends of his intention, and after
hearing this masterpiece, with which he was so
completely fascinated, for the second time, thinking with reason that he had attained the maximum of happiness reserved for man on this earth,
blew out his brains on leaving the opera house.
In every composition, from the beginning to the
end, we naturally, that is, without reflection, anticipate the succession of the various tones and modulations belonging to the key in which it is written.
There are several keys, quite varied among the
ancients, as I have before said, which among the
moderns are classed under two principal heads,
the major and minor keys. The first is generally
adapted to sentiments of gayety, pleasure and contentment; the second is suited to the expression
of sorrow, pity, fear, etc.
All men are not equally sensitive to these different keys. Some prefer sad, melancholy or
pathetic airs; others enjoy light, merry and
graceful songs. This difference in the matter of
taste, and this affinity with, or antipathy to, the
sonorous fluid, is so well recognized, that every




MORALS AND INTELLECT.            199
day, in concert halls or at the opera, persons are
heard compl.hining of the uneasiness felt when they
listen to chords of sad and melancholy music, for
instance, while others, on the contrary, when they
hear sweet and tender melodies, are filled with
infinite pleasure and delight.
In the application of music to health and sickness, I cannot refrain from  remarking on the
value of the above suggestion; it should remind
us that it would be dangerous for a hypochondriac
to have to listen to very grave and serious music;
instead of dispelling any feelings of depression, if
not despair, it would rather give rise to them. The
choice of the key and the general character of the
composition is therefore of the greatest importance. For this reason the  poet-improvisatore
who recites or declaims, always chooses a key
most appropriate to the subject he is treating of,
when he is to have instrumental accompaniment,
and a physician should understand and appreciate
the constitution of the patient whom he is to have
the care of.
Gretry, in his Essays in Music, insists strongly




200                 MUSIC.
on the importance of discrimination as regards
the key and general style in musical compositions,
and lays down a series of rules, on this subject,
which seem to me useful for composers to know.
"' The key of C major," said he, "is noble and
firank; that of C minor is pathetic. The key of D
major is brilliant, that of D) minor is melancholy.
The key of E flat is grand and also pathetic; it is
a semitone higher than that of D major, and still
does not in the least resemble it. By ascending
again a semitone, we reach the key of ~ major,
which is as sparkling as the preceding one was
grand and melancholy.
"The key of E minor is rather sad, although it
is the first minor scale in nature; that of F major
is mixed; that of ZFminor is the most pathetic of
all  the key of F sharp major is hard and sharp,
because it is overloaded with accidentals; the
same key in minor still preserves a little of the
same hardness; the key of G major is warlike and
not as grand as C major; the key of G minor is
the most pathetic, except that of F'minor. I pass
on to the key A of major, which is a very brilliant




MORAIS AND INTELLECT.           201
one; that of A minor is the simplest, least brilliant
of all. The key of B flat is grand but less so than
C major, and more pathetic than that of F major;
that of B major is brilliant and gay, while that of
B minor is adapted to express sincerity and artlessness.
"In general all the minor keys are tinged
with melancholy; they are most used for expressing abstract metaphysical sentiments, that is, in
short, all that are not of a defined character, such
as grief, melancholy, dissimulation, irony, etc....
A key should be chosen analogous in character to
that of the person; for, if you makle an old man
sing merrily in the key of E major, and a moment
later a little girl is made to sing in the key of C
major, I should say that the key  of C was
adapted to the old man, and that of E to the little
girl. If you make a warrior or a joyful lover sing
in the key of E flat, I should think that the recital
of his exploits would close with a catastrophe."
These observations seem  to me very correct,
and the musician who follows these precepts most
carefully, who wishes to adhere closely to nature,




202                MUSIC.
will consequently produce a more finished work,
and one that will be better appreciated, not only
by artists and cozzaisseurs, but also by those
whose musical capacity is not very fully developed. The music of the great masters supports this truth. Beethoven would never have
been able to write his Pastoral Symphony in the
same key as that of the Heroic; and the latter
could never have been composed wholly in the
key of E flat.
These precepts, so eminently true, unfortunately do not serve as guide to all composers, and
music is not always written in the key which the
words or situations would seem  to demand.
Among the Italians especially, we meet with the
most repulsive anomalies. How often in fact, do
we not hear the most pathetic words accompanied
by the liveliest kind of music, and the most solemn
arias, which should be free from all flourishes, are
overburdened with grace-notes and trills!
What a misconception to make a warrior or an
old man breathe his last, while singing runs, and
how dreadfully out of place it is to have a prinma




MORALS AND INTELLECT.           203
donnza strain her throat in executing endless fiorittwve, just at the moment when she should only
breathe forth stifled sighs, or short words interrupted by sobs!
If each key have its special character, the
same may also be said of every instrument.
The bassoon is mournful; consequently it
should be employed in expressing sorrow and
pathos. The clarinet is suitable for the expression of grief; and if it is used for rendering merry
music, the same is sure to be tinged with sadness.
"If a dance were to be given in prison," said
Grdtry, " I should like it to be to the sound of a
clarinet." The oboe suggests reverie by its rural
tones. The flute is sweet and tender; it is best
adapted to express the sweet delight of a happy
and tranquil love. The trombone is deep and
harrowing. The trumpet excites frenzy and martial ardor. The violin seems suited to express
all the sentiments common to humanity, but the
viola ought to be reserved for songs of a tender
melancholy.
It would be a really curious study to define the




204                 MUSIC.
peculiar characteristics of each instrument; and
this task, possible only to professional musicians,
would not be barren of results useful both to composers and physicians. The former would learn
how to assign to various characters songs suited to'
their special natures; the latter would find useful,and unforeseen resources to enable them to restore
their patients to health, or relieve those unfortunates who are a prey to suffering.




CHAPTER VII.
Effects and influence of music on the sick.
I F music has an undeniable influence on our,
organs and ideas, if it can arouse and calm
the most violent passions, as well as the gentlest
emotions, what a power it must exercise on man,
when either in a state of health or disease.
The human body is, as it were, a noble instrument, which, by reason of its complicated mechanism, as well as the incompetency of the one supposed to control it, and of the musicians who play
u. pon it, is exposed to countless changes and
I erangements.  When  perfect harmony  exists,
h.eailth predominates; when some of its parts are
in an abnormal condition, there is a sense of discomfort; when the equilibrium is broken, there is
sickness.  Sickness, in fact, as I have already
said in a previous work, De Za Sanct des Femmes,
vol. I, is only the resultant of opposite forces;




20o6               MUSIC.
and the great secret of preserving health rests
entirely in maintaining the complete harmony of
all the parts composing the human instrument, and
in the wisdom and foresight of the one who plays
on it. Music, warmly recommended by the
ancients as a therapeutic agent, has remained,
inevertheless, in this regard, buried in culpable
oblivion. However, the resources peculiar to it
are very manifest, and we have reason to be
astonished at the indifference of physicians and
hygienists as to its use.
The instances of diseases treated, cured, or at
least relieved, by skilfully combined sounds, are
numerous and well authenticated and it would
only be necessary to apply this method, to realize
what great advantages could be derived from it.
Athenmus, Theophractus, Aulugellus, employed
music as a cure for sciatica and gout. Ccelius
Aurelianus mentions a flutist who, by playing in the
Phrygian mode, charmed, as it were, the diseased
part, causing it to palpitate and tremble, which
as already said above, was only the result of the
accumulated sonorous fluid in the affected part.




EFFECTS  ON THE SICK.          207
It cannot be otherwise, for if the relief had been
due to the trembling alone, dancing, singing, seesawing, or any other movement, would have brought
about the same result, that is, would have served
to alleviate the pain-which was not the case, and
which never could happen.
Rhythm and measure have their influence also.
By giving a certain character and variety to melody, the animal economy is modified in a peculiar
manner, whence arise marked effects and results.
Nurses and mothers of families often dry their
children's tears by singing merry or monotonous
refrains, in even measure, and with regular cadence. I have often seen children weeping, without being able to discover the cause of their tears,
and remarked that they suddenly became quiet on
hearing a piano, a drum, or simply the noise produced by drumming on the window panes with the
fingers.
They are often calmed by being rocked, or
patted at regular intervals. In such instances, is
the infant put to sleep by congestion of the brain
alone? Possibly, when.it is rocked for a long




298                MUSIC.
time; but do not sound and rhythm play the chief
part? Magnetism and electricity are often efficacious in treating pain, or any physical ills; why
then should not the sonorous fluid, which is so
analogous to these, have a similar power.
Baglivi expressly recommends exercise and
motion for persons afflicted with gout. If they
cannot walk, let them exercise their voice, by
reading aloud, conversing with their friends, or
singing.
Bonnet says he has known several persons suffering from gout who employed music as a means
of relief for acute pain, with entire success.
Sauvages mentions a young man, one of his
patients, who had been attacked with intermittent
fever, accompanied by violent headache; he could
only be soothed by the sound of a drum. The
patient's friends were obliged to beat the drum
constantly in his room, and this noise, which was
deafening to everybody else, brought wonderful
relief to him, although he did not like music when
in good health.'Very many diseases of the lungs and stomach




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.             209
are wonderfully alleviated, by speaking, conversing, or listening to music.
Roger recommends this last mode of treatment
for pulmonary phthisis; it is always, in his opinion, followed by perceptible improvement.
A physician of the last century used to ask his
patients who complained of difficult digestion,
whether they took their meals alone or in company
with others, and also if they talked or were silent
while eating; he then advised them to carry on
conversation, in order to lengthen the time of the
meal, and thus force them to masticate their food
more thoroughly; at the same time he intended
them to exercise their lungs and develop the sonorous fluid.  In order to relieve the pulmonary)
as well as the vocal organs, of the blood that fillc:
them in consequence of constant and repeated act,
of swallowing, a sort of gymnastic movement it
needed, without which the functions of every organ
would fall into disuse; but this movement is noti:
entirely sufficient in itself. Speech and conversation, by imparting activity to these organs, force
the blood to circulate, preserve equilibrium in the




210                MUSIC.
different parts, and thereby prevent the feeling of
oppression, the flushes of heat, and heightened
color in the face, all such frequent effects of rich
dinners. Eat a quantity, drink a certain amount
of liquid at a single swallow, talk very little, and
your breathing will be short and labored, your
digestion will be rendered more difficult. On the
other hand, eat and drink the same amount, and
carry on at the same time a lively conversation,
even a discussion with those at the same table,
and you will digest your dinner with ease.
If you listen to good music after the meal,
although you may be less sensitive to its influence
than at other times, you -will feel all the better for
it. Voltaire, that witty critic, when he said that
our purpose in going to the opera was to promote
digestion, proclaimed an established truth, the
full meaning of which he undoubtedly had no idea
of. Listening to good music is undoubtedly the
best of the various modes of exercise so often
suggested to literary persons leading necessarily a
sedentary life.
Milton, a very skilful musician, spent a certain




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           2I I
time every day after dinner in singing or playing
on some kind of instrument.  Boerhaave, the
noted physician, indulged in the same pastime
after each meal; and the author of this work
never digests better than when he listens after
dinner to some opera or symphony.
These effects are not less perceptible on man
in a state of sickness, than in a state of health.
Ancient as well as modern authors give countless
instances of cures effected by means of music.
Democritus informs us that the sound of the
flute is a remedy against the plague. Thales of
Crete delivered the Lacedemonians by similar
means when attacked by the same scourge. Celsus
points out different methods of influencing the
minds of the insane, depending on the nature of
their mania. To quote his own words. " We must
quiet their demoniacal laughter by reprimands and
threats, and soothe their sadness by harmony, the
sound of cymbals or other noisy instruments."
According to Ccelius Aurelianus: " In the treatment of madness, some physicians employ exciting music without any discretion, which may pro



212                MUSIC.
duce good effects when applied in the right way,
but on the other hand, cause much harm  in a
great number of cases.  It is said that the Phrygian mode, full of sweetness as well as vivacity, is
very admirably adapted to those who are one
moment overwhelmed with grief and the next
thrown into paroxysms of rage; the martial Dorian mode suits those who are given to talking
and behaving in a silly manner, and indulging in
bursts of meaningless laughter, but it often happens that such tones throw the patients into a
delirium of excitement that is a kind of trance,
which gives rise to the saying that they are possessed with the divine spirit.
Galien recommends the employmeit -of music
as an antidote to the bite of vipers and scorpions,
and Desault claims the greatest success in the use
of it for the treatment of hydrophobia.
The records of L'Academie des Sciences, at
Paris, contain instances of cures that are really
extraordinary; we may mention a few of them:
" An illustrious musician and noted composer
was attacked by a fever, which constantly increased




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           213
in violence, so that the paroxysms followed each
other in quick succession. The seventh day after
his first attack, he lapsed into a very violent and
continuous delirium, accompanied by cries, tears,
terror and perfect sleeplessness. The third day of
his delirium he asked if he might hear. a little concert in his room;his physician consented, but with
many misgivings.
Bernier's caizfala were sung. As soon as he
heard the first notes, his countenance became
calm, his eyes assumed a quiet expression, and the
convulsions ceased entirely; he shed tears of
pleasure, and the fever left him while the concert
lasted; but as soon as it was over, he relapsed
into his former condition. His attendants could
not do otherwise than continue the use of a
remedy, the success of which had been so unexpected and so complete. The fever and delirium
always subsided during the concert; and the
music became such a necessity to the patient that
he had the person who watched with him at night
sing continuously. Ten days of this mnusicl realmzent effected a complete cure, without the use of




214               TMUSIC.
any additional remedies, except that the patient
was bled once in the foot; this had been tried
before in the early part of his illness.
A dancing-master of Alais in Languedoc
becoming excessively fatigued during the Carnival
of I708, owing to the demands of his profession,
was attacked by a violent fever. On the fourth
or fifth day he fell into a lethargy, and for a long
time all attempts to rouse him proved fruitless.
At last, instead of recovering consciousness, he
passed into a condition of dumb but raging delirium, during which he made constant attempts
to leap from his bed, trying to strike those restraining him with his head; though maintaining
perfect silence, he obstinately refused to take any
of the remedies offered him.
The mayor of the town, on seeing him in this
condition, thought that possibly  music could
restore his deranged mind, and therefore proposed
it to his physician. The latter did not disapprove
the plan, but he thought to put it in execution
might excite ridicule, which would be infinitely
increased, were the patient to die during the appli



EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           215
cation of the remedy. A friend of the dancingmaster, knowing how to play on the violin, took
the one owned by the patient, and played some
airs familiar to the latter. He was thought more
insane than the patient himself, and was treated
insultingly, when all at once the sick man sat up
in his bed, as if agreeably surprised, and endeavored to beat time with his arms, but as he was
held back by force, he could only signify, by nodding his head, the pleasure he was experiencing.
By degrees, however, the attendants relaxed the
force with which they were restraining him, and
allowed the  patient free  movement; he soon
recovered his reason. At the end of a quarter of
an hour he fell into a deep slumber, and while
thus sleeping, the crisis of the disease passed.
A fact which I witnessed in the course of my
medical studies, deserves also to be mentioned.
In 1832 one of my relatives very dear to me, a
doctor of medicine and devoted lover of music,
had an apoplectic attack.  Being hastily summoned, I was the first to prescribe for him. In
spite of vigorous treatment, the patient did not




216                MUSIC.
recover consciousness until two days after the
shock. One half of his body was paralyzed; and
his speech much affected; some days passed,.
full of anxiety, and a fatal result was feared.
Meantime his condition became improved, and he
could to some extent express his desires and
make known his wishes. The amelioration became
more perceptible every day, but he still suffered
from  drowsiness,  restlessness, and  occasional
paroxysms of fever. The patient, while in this
state, expressed a desire to hear some music; his
daughter was asked to sit down at the piano, and
she consented, though not without great anxiety.
Her father, who had up to this time been drowsy
and silent, Seemed to rouse up at the very first
notes. An expression of delight overspread his
countenance. His lips moved, he smiled, and
joining his hands together, he seemed to drink in
the sounds proceeding from the adjoining room
with unspeakable delight. As long as the music
lasted he was perfectly calm, apparently in a state
of comfort, which continued till evening, when the
improvement was less marked, although there was




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           217
no sign of his condition growing worse. This
first experiment had brought too much pleasure
and relief to the patient, not to have the family
eager to repeat it. On the next day I was present
at the second trial, and experienced surprise and
astonishment at the results I witnessed. Music
was given daily, for his benefit. The grave and
serious style of that played the first day, gave
place to compositions of an entirely different character, and the piano was brought into the sickchamber. The improvement was more marked
every day, the convalescence continued without interruption, and the cure was rapid and
complete.
These very interesting facts are worthy the
attention of observers.  They bear testimony in
favor of music considered as a therapeutic agent;
they also give the extent of the advantages that
may be derived from it.
The action of sound, and the influence of the
sonorous musical fluid, seem chiefly useful in nervous diseases, especially among women.
Hypochondria, hysteria, and even epilepsy have
10




218               MUSIC.
been alleviated in an incredible manner by the
harmonies of a music adapted to the patients for
whose benefit it is employed.
Quarin relates an instance of epilepsy cured
by music, where chance alone pointed out the
remedy. These are the details: "One day the
patient having been listening to music when she
felt the'epileptic fit coming on, suffered only the
symptoms. Every time afterward that she felt the
approach of the paroxysm, the young girl was
placed so that she could hear music; and nature,"
says Quarin, " being thwarted, as it were, in its
perverted tendencies, lost, at last, the habit of
convulsive movements."
An analogous fact is related by Roger. A
young lady belonging to the department of La
Dr6me suffered from a nervous disease much
resembling catalepsy.  The sound of the violin
relieved her in a surprising manner, and if she
had the good fortune to hear it before the paroxysm was really upon her, she was saved from it
entirely.
Pomme mentions several cures brought about




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.            219
by this means, and Pinel, speaking of a young
girl, says: "During the attacks, the sense of
hearing far from being deadened, seemed to
have acquired more keenness. A skilful musician
played on the violin at the patient's side, during
her paroxysms; although  she then  appeared
insensible to the charms of the music, she was so
strongly affected by it, that she admitted, after
having recovered entire consciousness, that the
music had thrown her into a state of rapturous
delight."
D.'sessarts relates a fact witnessed by himself:
6In I8oI Dr. Duval, member of the Medical Society of Paris, was summoned to visit a woman sixty
years old. Since the age of thirty she had been
an invalid, having never fully recovered from a
sudden fright experienced at that time.  She was
subject to veritable catalepsy; convulsions took
place every year, at the same time, and it was
during one of these paroxysms that Dr. Duval first
saw her.  He tried several remedies in vain.  At
last it occurred to him that hearing the notes of a
clarion might prove a useful stimulant, fitted to the




220               IMUSIC.
patient's natural gayety. She was not in the least
affected by it. The Doctor had her then listen
to familiar songs, and the way in which she moved
her lips led him to think that her interest was
aroused. The physician, on being informed that
she was when in health passionately fond of hearing certain kinds of music, one day brought with
him a musical friend who played several airs on
the clarinet. These airs being unfamiliar to the
patient she was not affected by them; but, on
the other hand, was much moved by hearing
Christmas carols, and other airs, which seemed
particularly to suit her fancy.  The impression
once made, became more vivid day by day; she
first began to mark time with her hand and
hlead; on the fourth day her body recovered its
flexibility; she was able to exchange her bed for
a chair, thereupon was commenced the song Confleor, when she rose and joined her hands as if
in prayer.
"Dr. Duval now took her by the hands, made
her dance, at first gently, and then in a more
lively manner. The limbs, that had remained in a




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           221
cataleptic state for four days, -obeyed her will:
the patient was able to acccmnpany the Doctor to
the end of a long hall, and on the following day,
as far as the street, descending three flights of
stairs. From this time she could attend to her
customary occupations."
A fashionable lady, about twenty-seven years
old, endued with extreme nervous sensitiveness,
passionately fond of music, an art which she understood and keenly appreciated, told me, some
days since, that when listening to the tones of an
orchestra, or even of a piano, she became, at first,
very excited, felt her limbs tremble, her heart beat
rapidly, and her very flesh creep; then she experienced throughout her whole body a vague sensation of ease and comfort, as if some fluid (to use
her own expression) were penetrating every organ.
A perfect calm and sense of contentment amounting almost to delight, had succeeded her first feeling of excitement, her trembling, and the creeping of the flesh.  Her thoughts were all happy
ones; her heart, filled with the warmest sentiments,
longed to give expression to its tender emotions.




222                MUSIC.
This same lady said to me again, although she
did not know of the work that I am engaged on,
at this moment: " If I should have the misfortune
to become insane, the best remedy, in fact, the
only one from which any happy effect might be
anticipated, would certainly be music."
VMental diseases are, under many circumstances,
relieved or cured by a style of music suited to the
peculiar kind of insanity or mania.
"A  physician, one of my intimate friends,"
writes Bourdelot, in his History of Music, " having
been summoned to visit a young woman, made
insane by the faithlessness of her husband, succeeded in restoring her to reason, by bringing her
into the presence of a number of musicians. The
latter, placed behind a curtain, played, three times
a day, a kind of music suited to her condition.
This remedy, continued for eighteen days, produced
the happiest results."'
One of my friends, a young artist, lost his reason, six months ago. He is never sane except
while listening to singing, or humming to himself
airs from Italian operas.




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           223
Should we not commend, every day, the happy
idea of employing music in our insane asylums, for
the cure, or at least the relief, of certain kinds of
insanity.
It is especially in mental diseases, for sadness
depression, despondency and ennui, and as an
antidote to disgust for life, that music may be employed most successfully. It performs wonders,
in cases of a vague longing for new excitement;
gratifies those aspiring for mental enjoyment, and
cheers all who suffer from loneliness of spirit.
A divine emanation, perhaps, source of inexpressible delight, it arouses courage, affords new
food for thought, recalls hope, and inspires most
agreeable fancies.
T might give countless instances of mental diseases cured, or at least alleviated, by music, but
prefer to confine myself to copying here a page
full of eloquence addressed by George Sand, one
of our most distinguished novelists, to Meyerbeer,
one of our renowned musicians, a p-roos of the
opera, Robert le Diable. I also appeal to the
memory of my readers, each of whom will proba



224                MUSIC.
bly be able to relate a story or chronicle some
successful experiment.
" Music has much greater influence than decorations. A complete melody is not needed; simple modulations are all that are required to make
dark clouds pass over the face of Helios, or to
touch the azure vault of heaven, to stir up the
volcano, to make the Cyclops roar in the bowels
of the earth, to recall the moist breeze, and make
it fan the trees withered by terror.
"Alice appears, the weather is serene, nature
gives us wild and primitive harmonies. All at
once the witches dance frantically in circles before
her, the earth trembles, the grass withers, the subterranean fires come forth from all the pores of
the groaning earth, the air grows dark, and weird
lights illumine the rocks.  But the witches' vigil
penetrates the almost inaccessible recesses of the
caverns, nature is revived, the sky grows clear, the
air becomes fresh, the brook resumes its course
which has been interrupted by fright, Alice kneels
down and prays.
" In this connection, and spite of the length of




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           225
this digression, I must relate to you, my master, a
fact of personal experience, and for which I have
always intended to express my gratitude to you.
"Two years ago' I went into the country, in
the middle of winters and passed there the two
saddest months of my life. I suffered from dreadful depression, and during the attacks, almost lost
my reason. I seemed possessed by furies, demons,
serpents, and everything that was incident to the
vigil in your opera. When the crises, as happens
in the regular progress of all diseases, began to
pass off, I had an infallible means for hastening
their course, and thus in a few moments. arriving
at a blissful state of repose. I had my nephew
take a seat at the piano: he was a handsome
curly-headed, rosy cheeked young man, of a
serious turn of mind, filled with a gentle dignity
such as would befit a monk, having besides an
almost impassible countenance, and blessed with
even health. At a signal which he understood, he
played my favorite music, that sung by Alice at
the foot of the cross, such a perfect and charming
picture of the condition of my feelings, the passing
~T 0




226                MUSIC.
off of my distress and my returning hope. What
poetic and religious consolations have fallen, like
blessed dew, from' these sweet and penetrating
notes.
"The chaffinch on my. white lilac forgot the
cold of winter, and dreaming only of Spring and
Love, began to sing as if it were the month of
May. The flower, half-opened on my mantel-piece
and unfolding its silk-like petals, shed a chaste
perfume above my head at the sound of the closing chord. Then the aloe's leaves were lighted in
my Turkish pipe, the hearth was illumined by an
intense white light, and my nephew, patient as a
machine, devoted as a son, recommenced the same
phrase twenty times in succession, until he saw
his dear uncle throw off the swan's-down wrap in
which he was enveloped, and attempt the most
graceful steps in the middle of his room, while
throwing his cap up to the ceiling and sneezing
for twenty minutes.
"How can I ever bless you, my dear master,
who healed me so much more skilfully than a
physician would. for you did it without causing




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           227
suffering and without demanding any pecuniary
compensation; and why should I believe, now,
that music is an art purely for pleasure or mere
speculative enjoyment, when I remember the surprising influence it had upon me, and that its elo.
quence was more convincing than all the philosophy taught in books?"
What a magnificent example of the power of
music in relieving mental diseases! What an
encouragement for physicians 1 Music is useful,
too, for strengthening our mental energy and ideas,
refreshing our imagination, reviving our sensitiveness and relieving fatigue. It enables the brain
to continue a work, after exertion seems impossible. Many an artist and man of letters finds
relaxation from his toil in this art.
One of my friends, a skilful painter, sits down
to the piano to seek the inspiration which for the
moment is denied him.
One of our most renowned poets plays the
violin or violoncello, for the sake of arousing his
poetic enthusiasm.
Our saivanls, li/erafi, artists and sculptors, are




228                MUSIC.
generally lovers of music, and this accounts for
their being found in great numbers in theatres
and concert-halls.
Our soldiers when on a campaign often hire
their drummers to strike up  a march when,
wearied with fatigue, they come to a halt.
Very. often in Italy, during the harvest season,
I have seen men and women dance the tarantelce
or sal/are/to for hours together, with the greatest
energy, or rather'most excitedly, to the music of a
tambourine and mandolin. Appai'ently unmindful
of fatigue, when listening to the instruments, their
ardor seemed constantly fed by song and gesture;
they were more like persons possessed by demons
than laborers accustomed to bend under the hardest kind of labor for fifteen hours a day.
A proopos of these fanatic Italian dances, it
would perhaps be proper to speak of that animal
to which so many wonderful virtues are attributed:
I refer to the tarantula. What has not been said
and written about this spider? I am ignorant as
to what gave rise to the common tradition about
it. Is it not claimed that persons stung by the




EFFECTS ON THE SICK.           229
tarantula are forced, spite of themselves, to dance
when they hear certain music? Well, I have made
many inquiries and investigations.'I have questioned at length the inhabitants of both city and
country, from  Milan to Venice, from Venice to
Florence, from Florence to Rome, from Rome to
Naples, from Naples to Palermo and Messina; I
have pursued my investigations in every direction,
and no one has been able to give me a satisfactory
answer.  Only among the inhabitants of the
Roman Campagna have I found some evidences
— now nearly effaced-of the strange peculiarity
attributed to this insect, which is regarded by all
the peasants as poisonous; but I repeat, in spite of
all my research, not only have I never succeeded
in finding a person who has been stung by a
tarantula, but I have never even seen the insect
itself, although a great number of the inhabitants
described it to me.
All the facts I have just related, all the phenomena I have just mentioned, are worthy of being carefully considered; destined to serve as a
foundation for the therapeutic -edifice which is to




230                MUSIC.
be erected, they are surely of great importance;
they merit the attention of students and physicians. To-day, especially, when minds engaged
mostly in philosophical pursuits, strive to fi-ee
themselves from the yoke of prejudice, every man
should bring a stone to assist in constructing a
lasting monument.  We must advance, in the
name of progress, and we must use the knowledge
gained by numerous efforts and studious application, to extend the possibilities of the art of amusic.
If we judge of the inefficacy of a remedy by its
singularity; is the physician, dreading ridicule,
hesitates or shrinks before the opinion be it true
or false, which the world may form with regard to
him, I admit we must give up the use of Kmnusic in
the treatment of disease. If, on the other hand, a
remedy seems useful and promotes the relief of
physical suffering, the physician should brave
satire, walk with head erect, remain deaf to clamor,
and not neglect any means, whatever they may be,
of snatching from death, or at least relieving frona
suffering, the individual who has placed supreme
confidence in him.




CHAPTER VIII.
Application of music. —As a preventive and curative means.
— Diseases for which it may be employed.-Precautions
to be taken in using it.
FROM  what we have already seen, and from
the details that have been given throughout
this work, we may readily perceive the medical,
therapeutic and hygienic resources which the art
of music, or rather sound (that is, the sonorous
fluid), offer. We should certainly have reason to
be astonished that this powerful and vigorous
remedy has remained so long neglected, did we
not know how difficult it is to apply it. On the
part of the physician, it calls for the most scrupulous attention, skilful care, and the most exact
knowledge of the strength of the remedy and the
sensitiveness of the patient; for if the combination
of sounds has, in some cases, a salutary effect, in
others the resuls may be lamentably fatal.




2,32-               MUSIC.
In many brain diseases, for instance in inflamination of that organ, a style of music that is suggested without reflection, or rashly employed,
might produce very serious consequences; it might
even prove very dangerous, especially to excessi —li nervous persons.
Ten years ago, I witnessed a very curious fact.
A tall beautiful girl, eighteen or nineteen years old,
of an intensdly nervous disposition, passed an evening at a house where I was staying. One of Beethoven's quartets was being performed.  This work,
played as it was immediately after some of
Mozart's compositions, made a very vivid impression on the young girl. She at first had a feeling
of restlessness, then of extreme fatigue, followed
by nervous agitation. These symptoms, at first
courageously endured, increased in intensity, and
after a time, the girl, no longer able to contain
herself, uttered a cry, and was seized with violent
convulsions. Those present crowded about her,
and she was carried into an adjoining room, when
the convulsive movement ceased, but she fell into
a state of complete catalepsy.  All music was




PREVENTIVE AND CURATIVE,   233
stopped; but, spite of all efforts for her relief, the
paroxysm lasted more than two hours,
At this time my ideas were not directed toward
investigating the influence of music on the animal
economy, so that I did not derive from this peculiar
occurrence the profit that I should have done, had
it happened ten years later. At the present time
I am convinced that it would have been possible
to shorten the duration of this cataleptic attack,
or entirely prevent it, if the musicians had been
made to perform compositions of a different style
from those that had just been heard.
If we would apply music to the treatment or
relief of disease we must necessarily be acquainted
with the patient's manner of life, his character,
temperament, habits and passions. i The physician,
being enlightened on all these peculiarities, will
select the most suitable airs, being careful as
regards rhythm, set them in fitting keys, and
adapt them to the proper instruments.  He will
have the musician, or musicians, play in a room
separated from  the sick-chamber, and the performance will begin with music fam-niliar to the




341               -MUSIC.
patient.  If the latter be habitually morose, the
concert must be opened with a melancholy composition, passing on, by imperceptible degrees, to
other works of a less grave character, and finally
reaching the liveliest melodies by the most skilfully managed transitions; but scrupulously avoid,
under all circumstances, songs likely to keep the
patient's mind in the same condition into which he
has fallen, and do not let the concert last too long.
If this first concert does not have quite the
hoped for effect, but even one opposed to that
intended, do not hastily conclude that the remedy
is bad, useless or hurtful, and do not utterly condemn it without a new trial. It may happen that
the organs, being charged too much or too little
with the musical fluid, may be exposed to too
strong or too feeble oscillations, to preserve the
equilibrium indispensable to health, as well as the
free exercise of all the functions. A second, a
third concert, may restore the parts constituting
the economy, to a normal state, by stimulating or
relaxing them to a proper degree, and thus the
general harmony be reestablished.




PREVENTIVE AND CURATIVE.    235
The choice of musical compositions, the proper
moment for applying them, a correct appreciation
of the patient's constitution, comprise the whole
secret of this method of cure.
In mental and nervous diseases, especially
among women, the success of the musical tteatmeilz
will be all the more marked, if directed by a skilful hand.
In agitation and trouble of soul, in restlessness of spirit, in tile perversion of intellectual
and moral ideas and faculties, care and foresight
should be used lest the evil be aggravated instead
of cured. While wishing to inspire hope, do not
arouse despair, and when trying to dissipate the
clouds that overshadow the mind, be careful not
to increase the darkness.
Order lively and vigorous music for a delicate,
weak and nervous child; infuse this curative fluid
by degrees into his brain and organs, following
given rules.
Let the pale, delicate young girl listen to a
lively style of music, and never have played within
her hearing any compositions of a melancholy or




2 t 3(             MUSiC.
emotional character, or she will fall into a state of
despondency fatal to health and happiness; possibly even catalepsy may be induced.
Those women who are prematurely developed,
ardent, enthusiastic and passionate, need to hear
concerts that are lively but not exciting, gentle
but not sensual music, and sometimes even, tones
breathing a sweet melancholy. We must exercise
caution and prudence in treating these impassioned creatures. Especially in the case of young
girls who are susceptible to the fascinating influences of music, it is better to repress their musical
propensities than allow them to be developed too
easily.  Think of Gretry's daughters, who died at
thirteen and fifteen years of age, weakened and
broken down by the study and composition of
worliks beyond their powers.
T'hose of a dull, sluggish nature should be
gradually roused by means of powerful and impres
sive music; those of a nervous disposition must
be soothed by sweet and tender melodies. Let
the person troubled with a bilious temperament
hear songs that are light, short and tinged with




PREVENTIVE AND CURATIVE.    237
gayety. Try to excite merriment in hypochondriacs, to induce calmness in those suffering from
hysteria, and divert the epileptics from all thought
of their paroxysms and convulsions. Above all,
carefully avoid recalling, by your melodies, those
thoughts which naturally absorb the whole mind,
but from which it should be entirely freed.
R. P. Kircher, author of a bulky and illogical
work on music, thinks that every composition has
its own peculiar time and place.  He thinks,
moreover, that in the choice of music for concerts
we should have a due regard to seasons. In his
opinion, the months of May, June, July, August,
September and October, that is, the warmest
months, are the most favorable for instrumental
performances. The months of November, December, January, February, March and April, that is,
the season of fog, rain and snow, are the least
adapted to the development and intensity of sound.
The winds that dry the air, he says, are those
most favorable for the voice; moist winds tend to
change the sounds. Do we not recognize in these
observations, and in the conditions described as




238                MUSIC.
favorable or unfavorable to the development of
the sonorous fluid, the same conditions that are
well or ill adapted to the manifestation of the electric fluid? The more we reflect, and the more
attentively we observe facts, the more proofs we
gain of the analogy or similarity between the impolnderable fluids, which, I again repeat, might
well be called varied modifications of one and the
same fluid.
Generally, the music of the ancients is regarded
as having more power to work marvels and
touch the soul than that of the moderns; perhaps it is so, but how are we to account then, for
the supposed inferiority of the composers of' our
own  day?  Are they  less learned  than  the
ancients?  Certainly not, the very opposite of
that may be maintained. Their harmonic and
orchestral combinations have been surpassed by
those of no other age, and their operas contain
undeniably fine passages; why, then, should they
suffer this reproach? The reason may be readily
discovered. The composers of ancient times, full
of taste and simplicity, ignorant of harmony, or at




PREVENTIVE AND CURATIVE.    239
least, having but a very confused idea of it, conceived of no music but simple melodies and songs.
They produced their effects by searching the inmost recesses of their own hearts, and understood
how to express their own thoughts and feelings
with perfect artlessness and ease. Our modern
composers, on the contrary, paying more attention
to combinations of harmony than of melody, appealing to the intellect rather than the soul, seek
to obtain dramatic effects in studying works on
instrumentation and orchestration; and by noise,
that is, the fanciful combination of sounds, they
hope to give proof of originality and thus gain
renown.  Their combinations are very learned
and ingenious, no doubt, but they are lacking in
melody, which is obscured and buried, as it were,
under heaps of notes. The song, choked and
stifled, so to speak, is hardly perceptible through
this harmony, and the effort of following it is so
great that we finally become nervous and restless,
and all enjoyment ceases.
Compare the songs of Pergolesi, Palestrina,
Gluck, Gretry, and Mozart, with those of our best




240                 MUSIC.
modern dramatic composers, and see if, in the
moments of pathos and passion, of grief and
frenzy, these great masters ever made use of
strange orchestral combinations as accompaniments for their melodies, thus destroying their
character, under the pretext of enhancing their
brilliancy.  Music of this nature, when it reaches
an audience, finds them cold and indifferent.
When a warrior is at the point of death, he
never wastes breath singing runs; and Iphigenia
standing at the sacrificial altar, ought not to
express her grief in chromatic scales and endless:foriture. Is it not a shocking misconception to
have any one who has suffered a stab from a dagger,
or taken poison, use his last breath for singing grace
notes and trills? No, the dramatic interest and
musical accentuation ought not to be sacrificed to
the voice of aprinma donna, or that of a tenore assoluto.
These observations seem to me true, because
they are accepted by all persons of taste, and the
successful revival of some operas of former times
proves how delightful a simple music is, based on
the study of human sentiments.




PREVENTIVE AND CURATIVE.    241
Like Proteus, imperceptible, assuming countless forms and colors, speaking the language of
all passions, music penetrates the very depths of
the soul, and searches the inmost recesses of the
heart; seeks out the tenderest emotions and most
hidden sentiments, and by a sort of despotic
power is able either to arouse or calm, to brighten
or extinguish them.
Substituting with incredible facility ideas diametrically opposed to those already in our mind,
it forces our thoughts, at its own will, into whatever
direction it pleases.  It subjects us to strange
metamorphoses, and makes us ascend and descend
the scale of all the passions and emotions in its
whole vast extent.
It pervades everything; nature is all music,
all harmony. The sighing breeze, the rippling
brook, the warbling bird, as well as the roar of the
storm, the rushing of the tempest, or the reverberation of the waves on the sandy shore-all
nature is to man a source of sweet and delightful,
or of sad and terrible sensations.
What, then, is music?  Is it, as Scudo says, a
Iti




242                 MUSIC.
presentiment, or is it a reminiscence of blessings
once felt, or is it, possibly, the intuition of a happy
fulfilment of our hopes?
Finite beings as we are, why are we not satisfied with the finite? Why, in the enjoyment of
abundance and pleasure, do certain simple tones
and combinations, heard perhaps afar off, make us
start, and fill our minds with sad forebodings?
THE END.