Chapter 3

_Edmund (aside)._ Pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy: my cue is villainous melancholy, with a _sigh like Tom o' Bedlam_.--O! these eclipses do portend _these divisions_. _Fa, sol, la, mi._

Songs like 'Tom o' Bedlam,' mad-songs they were called, were very commonly sung in England in the 17th century. The tune and words of the original 'Tom a Bedlam' are to be found in Chappell, Vol. I. p. 175. Its date is some time before 1626,[6] and verse 1 begins, 'From the hagg and hungrie Goblin,' and the whole is as full of ejaculations of 'Poor Tom' as Act III. of _Lear_.

[Footnote 6: Rimbault's preface to the Musical Antiquarian Society's reprint of Purcell's opera, "Bonduca," says that Mad Tom was written by Coperario in 1612, for the Masque of the Inner Temple and Gray's Inn, by Beaumont. This was, 'Forth from my sad and darksome sell.']

The last sentence has yet another play on the double meaning of 'divisions.' A few lines further on Edmund explains what kind of 'divisions' he expects to follow the eclipses--namely, 'between the child and the parent ... dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state,' etc. But the very use of the word in the quoted lines brings its musical meaning into his head, for he promptly carries off his assumed blindness to Edgar's presence by humming over his 'fa, sol, la, mi.' [Burney, Hist., Vol. III. p. 344, has a sensible observation on this passage--that Edgar alludes to the unnatural division of parent and child, etc., in this musical phrase, which contains the augmented fourth, or _mi contra fa_, of which the old theorists used to say 'diabolus est.']

Guido d'Arezzo (or Aretinus), in his Micrologus (about 1024), named the six notes of the Hexachord (_e.g._, C, D, E, F, G, A), thus--Ut, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La. These were the first syllables of certain words in the Hymn for the feast of St John Baptist, the words and tune of which are in Hawkins, p. 163.

"UT queant laxis RE-sonare fibris MI-ra gestorum FA-muli tuorum SOL-ve polluti LA-bii reatum, Sancte Joannes."

A rough translation of which is--

'That thy servants may be able with free hearts to sound forth the wonders of thy deeds; release us, O Holy John, from the guilt of a defiled lip.'

In the ancient tune of this verse, the notes assigned to the syllables in capitals were successively those of the scale, C, D, E, F, G, A, and these same syllables were still used in singing in the 16th century. It was noticed, however, that the scale could be easily expressed by fewer names, and accordingly we find Christopher Sympson (1667) saying, in his 'Compendium,' that Ut and Re are 'superfluous, and therefore laid aside by most Modern Teachers.' In his book, the whole scale of _eight_ notes is named thus--Fa, Sol, La, Fa, Sol, La, _mi_, Fa. A modern Tonic Solfaist would understand this arrangement quite differently. C, D, E would be called Do (instead of Ut), Re, Mi; then would follow F, G, A, under the names Fa, Sol, La; and the 'leading note' [top note but one] would be called Ti (instead of Si); the octave C beginning once more with Do.

The reader will remember that the tonal relation of C, D, E is exactly the same as that of the next three notes, F, G, A--viz., C--D, a tone; D--E, a tone; and similarly with F--G, G--A. Therefore the two blocks of three notes (which are separated by a _semi_-tone) might have the same names--viz., Fa, sol, la. Thus we have the first _six_ notes of the scale, Fa, sol, la, fa, sol, la. There only remains one note, the 'leading note,' the B; and this, in Sympson, is named _Mi_. So the principal thing in the sol-fa-ing of a passage was to 'place the Mi,' or, as we should now put it, to find 'what key' it is in. Thus, in the key of C, Mi is in B: in G, Mi is in F sharp: in F, Mi is in E, and so on, the remaining six notes being named Fa, sol, la, fa, sol, la, as explained above.

Edmund's 'Fa, Sol, La, Mi,' therefore, corresponds to F, G, A, B; or C, D, E, F sharp; or B flat, C, D, E, etc.; according to the pitch taken by the singer.

In this connection see the following passage:--

_Shrew_ I, ii, 16.

_Petr._ 'Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll _wring_ it: I'll try how you can _sol, fa_, and _sing it_.'

[He wrings GRUMIO by the ears.

Here is a pun on 'wring' and 'ring'; and 'sol-fa' is used as an equivalent for 'sing.'

More important still is 'the gamut of Hortensio,' _Shrew_ III, i, 72. [Gam-ut was the name of the Ut of lowest pitch, corresponding to the low G on the first line of our present bass staff, and was marked specially with a Greek Gamma, hence Gam-ut. The word became a synonym for 'the Scale.']

In this passage the names of the notes are simply those to be found in all instruction books of the 16th and 17th centuries.

'Gam-ut I am, the ground of all accord, A-re, to plead Hortensio's passion; B-mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord, C-fa-ut, that loves with all affection: D sol, re, one cliff, two notes have I: E la, mi, show pity or I die.'

Here Hortensio puts in his love-verses under the guise of a musicmaster's Gamut.

The lines may be taken separately as fantastic commentaries on the syllables themselves, as well as having their ulterior meaning for Bianca.

For instance, Gam-ut the _lowest_ note then recognised in the scale, is called 'the _ground_ of all _accord_.' A-re, I suppose, represents the lover's sigh 'to plead his passion.' B-mi, may be twisted into 'Be mine,' by the light of the remaining words in the line; while 'D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I' obviously refers to Hortensio's disguise. The 'cliff' is what is now called a 'clef,' or 'key,' because its position on the staff gave the 'key' to the position of the semitones and tones on the various lines and spaces. The six notes here mentioned are the G, A, B, C, D, E, in the bass staff. They could only be written (as they are yet) in _one_ clef--namely, the F clef. The expression 'two notes have I,' as applied to the D, means that, in the key of G, D is called Sol; while in the key of C it would have the name Re; just as Hortensio is Hortensio, and at the same time masquerades as a singing-master.

It has been mentioned that the art of adding an extempore counterpoint to a written melody was called 'descant.' The written melody itself was called the 'Plain-song,' and hence the whole performance, plainsong and descant together, came to be known by the term 'Plain-song,' as opposed to the performance of plainsong with a _written_ descant; which was known as 'Prick-song.'

Morley gives us a clear idea that the extempore descant was often a very unsatisfactory performance, at any rate when it was attempted to add more than one extempore part at a time to the plainsong. As he says--'For though they should all be moste excellent men ... it is unpossible for them to be true one to another.' The following passage will be more clear on this light.

_H. 5._ III, ii, 3. Fight at Harfleur.

_Nym._ Pray thee, corporal, stay: ... the humour of it is too hot, that is the very _plain-song_ of it.

_Pistol._ _The plain-song is most just_, for humours do abound.

* * * * *

L. 41.

_Boy_ (speaks of the 3 rogues).... They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph _stole a lute-case_, bore it twelve leagues, and _sold it for three half-pence_.

Falstaff's worthy body-guard are getting tired of hard knocks in fight; Nym compares their late activity to a somewhat florid 'plain-song' [meaning an extempore descant, as explained above]; Pistol says it is a 'just' plainsong. A 'just' plainsong would mean that the singer had managed his extempore descant 'without singing eyther false chords or forbidden descant one to another.' Similarly, there is little doubt that both Ancient and Corporal managed to take a part in the skirmishings with as little damage as possible to their sconces.

The speech of the boy at l. 41 hardly enrols Bardolph amongst music lovers. At all events he stole a lute-case, and seems to have liked it so much that he carried it 36 miles before his worser nature prevailed on him to sell it for 1-1/2d.

The next quotation still concerns Jack Falstaff and his crew, all of whom (and strictly in accordance with history) seem to have been sound practical musicians. This time they are speaking, not of descant, but of Prick-song. The chiefest virtue in the performance of Prick-song, by which Falstaff and Nym probably understood both sacred and secular part-music, is that a man should 'keep time,' religiously counting his rests, 'one, two, three, and the third in your bosom,' and when he begins to sing, that he should 'keep time, distance, and proportion,' as Mercutio says Tybalt did in his fencing, see _Romeo_ II, iv, 20.

All this is thoroughly appreciated by Falstaff and his corporal in the following lines:--

_Merry Wiv._ I, iii, 25.

_Falstaff_ (of Bardolph) ... his thefts were too open; his filching was _like an unskilful singer_, he _kept not time_.

_Nym._ The good humour is to _steal at a minim's rest_.

['Minims' is a modern conjecture.]

The metaphor is of an anthem or madrigal, say in four parts. We will suppose the Hostess of the 'Garter' is taking the _Cantus_, a tapster the _Altus_, mine Host the _Tenor_, and Nym the _Bassus_. The three former are all hard at work on their respective 'parts,' one in the kitchen, another in the taproom, the third in familiar converse outside the front door. But Nym has 'a minim rest,' and during that short respite takes advantage of the absorbing occupations of the other three 'singers' to lay hands on whatever portable property is within his reach. 'A minim rest' is not much--but the point remains. Any musician has had experience of what can be done during a short 'rest'--_e.g._, to resin his bow, or turn up the corners of the next few pages of his music, light the gas, or find his place in another book.

By an easy transition we pass to the following:--

_Pericles_ I, i, 81. Pericles addresses the daughter of King Antiochus.

_Per._ You're a _fair viol_, and _your sense the strings_, Who, _finger'd_ to make man his _lawful music_, Would draw heaven down and all the gods to hearken; But being _play'd upon before your time_, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.

Pericles compares the lawful love of a wife with the performance of a good viol player, the proper characteristics of which would be, 'in tune,' and 'in time.' The comparison in l. 84 is of this girl's lawless passion with the 'disorder'd' playing of a bad violist, who has got 'out,' as we say; who is playing 'before his time,' thus entirely spoiling the music, which becomes a dance for devils rather than angels.

The viol was decidedly the most important stringed instrument played with a bow that was in use in Elizabethan times. There were three different sizes.

The reader will get a sufficiently accurate idea, both of the sizes and the use of viols, if he will consider the treble viol to have corresponded closely with our modern violin, the tenor viol to the modern viola [which is also called Alto, Tenor, or Bratsche--_i.e._, braccio, 'arm' fiddle], and the bass-viol, or viol-da-gamba [so called because held between the knees], to the modern violoncello.

The principal difference from our modern stringed instruments was that all the viols had _six_ strings, whereas now there is no 'fiddle' of any sort with more than four. A secondary difference was, that all the viol family had _frets_ on the fingerboard to mark out the notes, whereas the finger-boards of all our modern instruments are smooth, and the finger of the performer has to do without any help of that kind.[7]

[Footnote 7: See Frontispiece.]

John Playford, in 1683, published his 'Introduction to the Skill of Music,' which gives an account of the viols, and Thomas Mace, of Cambridge, lay clerk of Trinity, in his 'Musick's Monument,' pub. 1676, gives full instructions how many viols and other instruments of this kind are necessary. From these we learn that viols were always kept in sets of six--two trebles, two tenors, and two basses--which set was technically known as a 'Chest' of viols. Mace also says that the treble viol had its strings just half the length of the bass viol, and the tenor was of a medium size between these. Also he says that if you add to these a couple of violins (which were then thought somewhat vulgar, loud instruments) for jovial occasions, and a pair of 'lusty, full-sized Theorboes,'[8] 'you have a ready entertainment for the greatest prince in the world.'

[Footnote 8: Theorbo, a lute with a double neck; so called from Tiorba, a mortar for pounding perfumes, referring to the basin-shaped back of a lute.]

The tuning of the six strings on the _bass_-viol was, on the bass staff, 1st string, or treble, D over the staff; 2nd or small mean, A on the top line; 3rd or great mean, E in the third space; 4th or counter-tenor, C in the second space; 5th or tenor, or gamut, G on the first line; and the 6th or bass, low D, under the staff. On the most complete viol there would be seven frets, arranged semitonally, so the compass of the Bass Viol or Viol da Gamba would be about two octaves and a half, from D under the bass staff to A on the second space of the treble staff. [In South Kensington Museum is a Viol da Gamba with no less than twelve frets still remaining. This would make the compass nearly _three_ octaves.]

The tenor-viol had its top string tuned to G on the second line of the treble staff; and the remaining five were the same in pitch as the top five on the bass viol. The treble viol (as mentioned above) was tuned exactly an octave above the bass.

The tone of the viols is very much like that of our modern bowed instruments, the principal difference being that they are a little feebler, and naturally more calm. The reason is that vigorous 'bowing' is a risky thing on the viol, for, as there are _six_ strings on the arc of the bridge, more care is required to avoid striking two or even three at once than on the violin, which has only four.

The amateur of music would keep a 'Chest' of six Viols in his house, and when his musical friends visited him, they would generally play 'Fancies' (or Fantasias) see _H. 4. B._ III, ii, 323, in several parts, from two to the full six, according to the number of those present. Amongst a great number of composers of this kind of music, some very well known names are, John Jenkins, Chris. Sympson, William Lawes, Coperario (John Cooper), and the Italian Monteverde. It was common for the Organ or other keyed instrument to join with the viols in these pieces, and thus fill out the chords of the 'consort,' as it was called.

We still have one of the viol tribe left in our orchestra. The double-bass (or viol-one) is lineal descendant of the Chest of viols. Its shape, especially at the shoulders, is quite characteristic, and elsewhere--_e.g._, the blunt curves of the waist, the outline of the back, and even the shape of the bow.

The practice of playing extempore variations on the viol da gamba has already been mentioned as one of the elegant accomplishments of a gentleman in those days. The following two quotations therefore will not require further remark.

_Tw._ I, iii, 24.

_Maria_ [of Sir Andrew Aguecheek] ... he's a very fool, and a prodigal.

_Sir Toby._ Fie, that you'll say so! he _plays o' the viol-de-gamboys_ ... and hath all the good gifts of nature.

_Richard II._ I, iii, 159. Banishment of Norfolk.

_Norfolk._ The language I have learn'd these forty years, My native English, now I must forego; And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an _unstringed viol_, or a _harp_; Or like a _cunning instrument cas'd up_, _Or_, being open, _put into his hands_ That knows _no touch to tune the harmony_.

The _violin_ family had only a precarious footing amongst musicians up to 1650. After that time, the viols declined in favour, and so rapidly, that at the very beginning of the 18th century, Dr Tudway of Cambridge describes a chest of viols, in a letter to his son, with such particularity, that it is clear they had entirely fallen out of use by 1700. As the viol fell out of fashion, the violin took its place, and has kept it ever since.

The violin family had come into general and fashionable use under the patronage of the Court of Louis XIV., and thus the English nation, true to their ancient habit of buying their 'doublet in Italy, round hose in France, bonnet in Germany, and behaviour everywhere,' took up the 'French fiddles,' and let their national Chest of viols go to the wall.

This growing tendency to adopt French customs, even in music, is referred to in the following:--

_Hen. VIII._ I, iii, 41. French manners in England.

_Lovell._ A _French song_, and a _fiddle_, has no fellow.

_Sands._ _The devil fiddle 'em!_ I am glad they're going, For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: _now_, An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of _play_, may bring his _plain-song_, And have an hour of hearing: and, by'r lady, Held _current music_ too.

The only word here that has not already been fully explained is 'current music,' which I suppose to mean simply, that the old accomplishments of which Lord Sands speaks would be still thought 'up to date' and in the fashion.

Another instrument in common domestic use was the Recorder. This was a kind of 'Beak-flute,' like a flageolet. Lord Bacon says it had a conical bore, and six holes. So it had the general figure of a modern Oboe, but was played with a 'whistle' mouthpiece instead of a reed.

The six holes may still be seen on any penny whistle, or the brass flageolets in the music-shops.

The Recorder was known for its sweet tone. Poets used the word 'record' to signify the song of birds, especially of the nightingale.

Hawkins identifies it with the Fistula Dulcis, seu Anglica, and gives two pictures which help to explain the next quotation.

In South Kensington Museum there is a Recorder[9] made of a dark wood, which is nothing else but a big flageolet. Its length is 2 ft. 2 in., and its bore is that of the modern flageolet and old flute--viz., conical, but with the wide end nearest the player's mouth.

[Footnote 9: See Frontispiece.]

_Hamlet_ III, ii, 346. Enter Players with recorders.

_Ham._ O! the _recorders_: let me see one....

* * * * *

L. 351.

... Will you _play upon this pipe_?

_Guildenstern._ My lord, I cannot.

* * * * *

_Ham._ It is as easy as lying: govern these _ventages_ with your _finger and thumb_, give it _breath_ with your mouth, and it will discourse _most eloquent music_. Look you, these are _the stops_.

_Guil._ But these cannot I command to any utterance of _harmony_: I have not the skill.

_Ham._ Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of _me_. You would _play upon me_: you would seem to _know my stops_; ... you would _sound me_ from my _lowest note_ to the _top of my compass_; and there is _much music_, excellent voice, in _this little organ_ [the recorder], yet cannot you make it _speak_. 'Sblood! do you think I am _easier to be played on than a pipe_? Call me what _instrument_ you will, though you can _fret_ me, you cannot _play_ upon me.

The holes in a flute have always been called 'ventages,' because the 'wind' comes through them when the fingers are removed. They were 'governed' 'with the finger and thumb.' One of the illustrations from Mersennus [b. 1588] shows a conical flute with four holes in front and two at the back. These latter would, of course, be controlled by the _thumbs_, while the others would occupy two fingers on each hand. (Modern flageolets still keep a thumb hole at the back.) There were other beaked flutes of the same period, of a better class, which had several keys as well as the holes.

'The stops' referred to by Hamlet are merely the 'ventages.' The act of covering a hole with the finger or thumb was called 'stopping'; and further, one example of the Fistula Dulcis given by Mersennus has two different holes for the lowest note, one on the right and the other on the left, so that the instrument might be used either by a right-handed or left-handed person. One of these two duplicate holes was temporarily _stopped_ with wax. [The passing play upon 'fret' in the last line should not be missed.]

In the next passage the meaning of stop as applied to Recorders is punned on by Hippolyta, who carries on the play from Lysander's horsebreaking metaphor.

_Mids._ V, i, 108. The Prologue speaks with all the punctuation wrong.

_Theseus._ This fellow doth not _stand upon points_.

_Lysander._ He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the _stop_....

_Hippolyta._ Indeed, he hath played on this prologue like a _child on a recorder, a sound_, but _not in government_.

That is--the Prologue has misplaced all his _stops_--like a young horse that refuses to _stop_--also like a child who has not learned to _stop_ the holes on the flute _à bec_.

It is singular that the Virginal, which was the most popular of all the keyed instruments, is nowhere directly named in Shakespeare. There is, however, a reference to the action of the fingers on its keys in the following.

_Winter's Tale_ I, ii, 125. Of _Hermione_, Queen of Leontes, King of Sicilia, and _Polixenes_, King of Bohemia.

_Leon._ ---- still _virginalling_ Upon his palm?

The Virginal (generally known as 'a _pair_ of virginals') was most commonly used by ladies for their private recreation, and from this circumstance is supposed to derive its name. Queen Elizabeth was fond of playing on it, but as it was in vogue before her time, there is no need to connect the name with the Virgin Queen. (Elizabeth's own Virginal is in South Kensington Museum.[10]) Its keyboard has four octaves, and the case is square, like that of a very old pianoforte. The strings of the virginal were plucked, by quills,[11] which were secured to the 'jacks' [see Sonnet cxxviii.], which in turn were set in motion by the keys. The strings were wire. The oldest country dance known, the Sellenger's (St Leger's) Round, of Henry VIII.'s time, was arranged by Byrd as a Virginal 'lesson' for 'Lady Nevell's booke.' Another well-known Virginal Book, that at the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge, commonly known as 'Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book,' is being published by Breitkopf & Härtel.

[Footnote 10: See Frontispiece.]

[Footnote 11: Plectra of leather were also in use, as well as those of quill.]

The first music ever printed for the Virginals was 'Parthenia,' published in London, 1611. This collection contains principally Pavans and Galliards by Byrd, Bull, and Gibbons. The title 'Parthenia, or the Maydenhead of the firste musicke,' etc., with a picture of a young lady playing on the virginal, seems to confirm our explanation of the name of this instrument.

Next to the viol, the lute[12] was the most popular stringed instrument. It was used both as a Solo instrument on which to play sprightly 'Ayres,' or as an accompaniment for the voice, or 'in consort' with other instruments. Naturally, it figured frequently in 'serenading' especially when a love song had to be sung outside a lady's window. The general shape of a Lute was that of a mandoline, but about four times as big. Like the mandoline, it had a flat belly, and a great basin-shaped back. But in every other respect it was entirely different. It was used more in the fashion of a guitar, and its strings (which were of gut) were plucked with the fingers.

[Footnote 12: See Frontispiece.]