Part 98

_Scud._ If what I feel I could express in words, Methinks I could speak joy enough to men To banish sadness from all love for ever. O thou that reconcilest the faults of all Thy frothy sex, and in thy single self Confines! nay has engross’d, virtue enough To frame a spacious world of virtuous women! Had’st thou been the beginning of thy sex, I think the devil in the serpent’s skin Had wanted cunning to o’er-come thy goodness; And all had lived and died in innocency, The whole creation--. Who’s there?--come in-- _Nevill (entering.)_ What up already, Scudmore? _Scud_. Good morrow, my dear Nevill? _Nev._ What’s this? a letter! sure it is not so-- _Scud._ By heav’n, you must excuse me. Come, I know You will not wrong my friendship, and your manners, To tempt me so. _Nev._ Not for the world, my friend. Good morrow-- _Scud._ Nay, Sir, neither must you Depart in anger from this friendly hand. I swear I love you better than all men, Equally with all virtue in the world: Yet this would be a key to lead you to A prize of that importance-- _Nev._ Worthy friend, I leave you not in anger,--what d’ye mean?-- Nor am I of that inquisitive nature framed, To thirst to know your private businesses. Why, they concern not me: if they be ill, And dangerous, ’twould grieve me much to know them; If good, they be so, though I know them not: Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong, To covet to participate affairs Of that near touch, which your assured love Doth not think fit, or dares not trust me with. _Scud._ How sweetly doth your friendship play with mine, And with a simple subtlety steals my heart Out of my bosom! by the holiest love That ever made a story, you are a man With all good so replete, that I durst trust you Ev’n with this secret, were it singly mine. _Nev._ I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend. _Scud._ Nay, look you, this same fashion does not please me. You were not wont to make your visitation So short and careless. _Nev._ ’Tis your jealousy, That makes you think it so; for, by my soul, You’ve given me no distaste in keeping from me All things that might be burdensome, and oppress me.-- In truth, I am invited to a Wedding; And the morn faster goes away from me, That I go toward it: and so good morrow-- _Scud._ Good morrow, Sir. Think I durst show it you-- _Nev._ Now, by my life, I not desire it, Sir Nor ever lov’d these prying list’ning men, That ask of others ’states and passages: Not one among a hundred but proves false, Envious and sland’rous, and will cut that throat He twines his arms about. I love that Poet, That gave us reading “Not to seek ourselves Beyond ourselves.” Farewell. _Scud._ You shall not go. I cannot now redeem the fault I have made To such a friend, but in disclosing all. _Nev._ Now, if you love me, do not wrong me so; I see you labour with some serious thing, And think, like fairies’ treasure, to reveal it Will burst your breast,--’tis so delicious, And so much greater than the continent. _Scud._ O you have pierced my entrails with your words, And I must now explain all to your eyes. (_Gives him the Letter._) Read; and be happy in my happiness. _Nev._ Yet think on’t; keep thy secret and thy friend Sure and entire. Oh give not me the means To become false hereafter; or thyself A probable reason to distrust thy friend, Though he be ne’er so near. I will not see it. _Scud._ I die, by heav’n, if you deny again. I starve for counsel; take it, look upon it. If you do not, it is an equal plague As if it been known and published. For God’s sake, read; but with this caution,-- By this right hand, by this yet unstain’d sword, Were you my father flowing in these waves, Or a dear son exhausted out of them, Should you betray the soul of all my hopes, Like the two Brethren (though love made them Stars) We must be never more both seen again. _Nev._ I read it, fearless of the forfeiture:-- Yet warn you, be as cautelous not to wound My integrity with doubt, on likelihoods From misreport, but first exquire the truth, (_reads._) _Scud._ She is the food, the sleep, the air I live by-- _Nev. (having read the Letter.)_ O heav’n, we speak like Gods, and do like Dogs!-- _Scud._ What means my-- _Nev._ This day this Bellafront, this rich heir Is married unto Count Frederick; And that’s the Wedding I was going to. _Scud._ I prithee do not mock me;--married!-- _Nev._ It is no matter to be plaid withal; But yet as true, as women all are false. _Scud._ O that this stroke were thunder to my breast, For, Nevill, thou hast spoke my heart in twain; And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath Hast ravish’d me out of a temperate soil, And set me under the red burning zone. _Nev._ For shame, return thy blood into thy face Know’st not how slight a thing a Woman is? _Scud._ Yes; and how serious too.--

_Scudmore, afterwards, forsaken._

_Scud._ Oh God! What an internal joy my heart has felt, Sitting at one of these same idle plays, When I have seen a Maid’s Inconstancy Presented to the life; how glad my eyes Have stole about me, fearing lest my looks Should tell the company contented there, I had a Mistress free of all such thoughts.

_He replies to his friend, who adjures him to live._

_Scud._ The sun is stale to me; to-morrow morn, As this, ’twill rise, I see no difference; The night doth visit me but in one robe; She brings as many thoughts, as she wears stare When she is pleasant, but no rest at all: For what new strange thing should I covet life then; Is she not false whom only I thought true? Shall Time (to show his strength) make Scudmore live, Till (perish the vicious thought) I love not thee; Or thou, dear friend, remove thy heart from me!--

C. L.

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~Ancient Music~

SUPERIOR TO MODERN.

“That the music of the ancients,” says Jeremy Collier, “could command farther than the modern, is past dispute. Whether they were masters of a greater compass of notes, or knew the secret of varying them the more artificially; whether they adjusted the intervals of silence more exactly, had their hands or their voices further improved, or their instruments better contrived; whether they had a deeper insight into the philosophy of nature, or understood the laws of the union of the soul and body more thoroughly; and thence were enabled to touch the passions, strengthen the sense, or prepare the medium with greater advantage; whether they excelled us in all, or in how many of these ways, is not so clear however, this is certain, that our improvements in this kind are little better than ale-house crowds (fiddles) with respect to theirs.”

The effects of music among the ancients, are said to have been almost miraculous. The celebrated ode of Dryden has made every one acquainted with the magic power of Timotheus over the emotions of the human heart. And all, who have read any thing of ancient history, must have remarked the wonderful effects attributed to the musical instrument in the hand of a master.

Among a hundred other stories, which evince the power of music, is the following:

Pythagoras was once likely to be troubled at his lecture, by a company of young men, inflamed with wine, and petulant with the natural insolence of youthful levity. The philosopher wished to repress their turbulence; but forbore to address them in the language of philosophy, which they would either not have attended to, or have treated with derision. He said nothing; but ordered the musician to play a grave majestic tune, of the Doric style. The effect was powerful and instantaneous. The young men were brought to their sober senses, were ashamed of their wanton behaviour, and with one accord tore off the chaplets of flowers with which they had decorated their temples in the hour of convivial gaiety. They listened to the philosopher. Their hearts were opened to instruction by music, and the powerful impression being well timed, produced in them a permanent reformation.

How desirable is it to revive the music of Pythagoras! How concise a method of philosophizing to the purpose! What sermon or moral lecture would have produced a similar effect so suddenly?

But nothing of this kind was ever produced by the most successful efforts of modern music. Let us suppose a case somewhat similar to the preceding. Let us imagine a number of intoxicated rakes entering the theatre with a professed intention to cause a riot. Such a case has often been real. The music in the orchestra has done all that it could do to sooth the growing rage; but it was as impotent and contemptible as a pistol against a battery. It would be a fine thing for the proprietors, if a tune or two could save the benches, and the fiddlers preclude the carpenters. But Timotheus and the Doric strains are no more; yet, surely, in so general a study of music it might be expected that something of their perfection might be revived.[313]

[313] Vicesimus Knox.

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MUSICAL ANECDOTES.

A GRAND MOVEMENT.

A musical instrument-maker of Bremen was on the point of failure, and his creditors watched him so close, that he could not get a pin’s worth carried away. He bethought himself of a singular stratagem for deceiving his watchmen. He got together about a hundred and fifty musicians, his friends, in the shop, and set them all playing with the different instruments there, the overture of the “Gazza Ladra.” As it was night, at each movement of the orchestra, he contrived to throw some article of furniture from the back window, and the fall was so managed, that, from the noise of the instruments, no one perceived it. At last, to finish the affair so happily begun, at the end of the concert, each musician went out with his instrument. The artist went out last, and locked the shop-door, leaving nothing to his creditors but a bust of Ramus.

AN ACCOMPANIMENT.

The most singular spit in the world is that of the count de Castel Maria, one of the most opulent lords of Treviso. This spit turns one hundred and thirty different roasts at once, and plays twenty-four tunes, and whatever it plays, corresponds to a certain degree of cooking, which is perfectly understood by the cook. Thus, a leg of mutton _à l’Anglaise_, will be excellent at the 12th air; a fowl _à la Flamande_, will be juicy at the 18th, and so on. It would be difficult, perhaps, to carry farther the love of music and gormandizing.[314]

[314] Furet de Londres.

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BEETHOVEN.

Ludwig von Beethoven was born in 1770 at Bonn, where his father was then tenor singer in the chapel of the elector of Cologne. At an unusually early age he was able to perform that first of all works for forming a finished player on the organ or the piano-forte, the preludes and fugues of Sebastian Bach, called “Le Clavecin bien tempéré.” At this time he displayed equal progress in composition; for, in the same year, he published variations to a march, sonatas, and songs, all for the piano-forte.

In 1792, he was sent by the elector to Vienna, as court-organist, to study the theory of music under the celebrated J. Haydn, who, on leaving Vienna for London two years after, intrusted his pupil to the care of the learned Albrechtsberger. He was then more distinguished for his performance than his composition. Judging by the criticisms of his early works, harshness of modulation, melodies more singular than pleasing, and an evident struggle to be original, were among the principal faults of which he was accused. Severe as these critics were on him as a composer, they were lavish in their praises of him as a player. In their opinion, no one could equal him in spirit and brilliancy of execution; and nothing more was wanting to perfect his performance, than more precision and distinctness of touch. His greatest power consisted in extemporary performance, and in the art of varying any given theme without the least premeditation. In this he approached nearest to Mozart, and has never had a rival since.

The precarious situation of the court of Cologne during the war, and the death of the elector in 1801, in whom the art of music lost one of its most zealous patrons, induced Beethoven to choose Vienna as his permanent residence. As original and independent in his general way of thinking, as in his musical productions, a decided enemy to flattery, an utter stranger to every thing dishonourable, he disdained to court the favour of any one, however wealthy or high in rank. He has consequently resided nearly thirty years in that splendid metropolis, in open hostility with many; and in friendship with only a few, whom the admiration of his great genius will not allow to take offence, either at the singularity of his manner, or the candour with which he gives his honest opinions. Till very lately, he had hardly any other emolument than what his compositions produced him, and consequently he was too often in circumstances very unworthy of such a great genius.

In Austria, the native composers have experienced a neglect similar to that which Frederick the Great displayed to the literati of Prussia. Salieri, the Italian, has all the honours and emoluments of principal maestro di capella to their majesties; whereas the inimitable Beethoven relies entirely on his own strength, without the smallest portion of imperial munificence. It must have been a consideration like this, together with the increase of difficulties, that determined him, in 1809, to accept an offer from the new Westphalian court of Jerome Buonaparte, of the situation of maestro di capella. Fortunately, for the honour of Vienna and of Austria, the archduke Rudolph, and the princes Lobkowitz and Kinsky, induced him to alter this resolution. In expressions at once the most favourable and delicate, these princes had a document drawn up, by which they settled on Beethoven an annuity of 4000 florins, with no other condition, than that so long as he derives the benefit of it, he must reside at Vienna, or in some other part of the Austrian dominions; but he cannot travel into foreign countries, unless with the consent of his patrons. Vienna has thus become the place of his abode during the principal part of his life. Although he had a great wish to see foreign countries, particularly England, he has never applied for leave of absence to the archduke Rudolph, who is now his only patron, the princes Lobkowitz and Kinsky being dead. It has, however, been doubted whether his presence would add, either here or any where else, to his celebrity. His warmth of temper, extreme frankness, and singularity of manners, (which he is little able to rule according to the prescribed forms of society,) his little reserve in judging of people, and above all, his great deafness, seem little calculated to endear his person to the true admirers of his genius. Notwithstanding these foibles, which more frequently belong to great than to ordinary men, his character, as a man and as a citizen, ranks deservedly high. There is a rectitude in his moral conduct, which ensures to him the esteem of every honourable person.

Beethoven’s works are universally acknowledged to be, for the greater part, productions of the highest order. In the loftier strains of composition, he has attained so eminent a rank, that it is difficult to say who excels him. In many of his orchestral symphonies, overtures, quartettos for the violin, concertos, trios, and sonatas for the piano-forte, he may be placed without the slightest presumption by the side of Haydn and Mozart. His overture to the “Men of Prometheus,” and his piano-forte concerto in C minor, Op. 37, would alone be sufficient to immortalize him. They will ever be heard with delight after any overture or concerto, even of Mozart. A list of his works is copied from that very excellent periodical work, the “Harmonicon,” into the “Biographical Dictionary of Musicians,” from whence the present notice of Beethoven is derived.

The talents of a Haydn and Mozart raised instrumental composition in Germany to an astonishing elevation; and Beethoven may be said not only to have maintained the art in that stupendous altitude, but even in some respects to have brought it to still higher perfection. Reichardt, in his letters from Vienna, says, “Haydn drew his quartets from the pure source of his sweet and unsophisticated nature, his captivating simplicity and cheerfulness; in these works he is still without an equal. Mozart’s mightier genius and richer imagination took a more extended range, and embodied in several passages the most profound and sublime qualities of his own mind. Moreover, he was much greater as a performer than Haydn, and as such, expected more from instruments than the latter did. He also allowed more merit to highly wrought and complicated compositions, and thus raised a gorgeous palace within Haydn’s fairy bower. Of this palace Beethoven was an early inmate; and in order adequately to express his own peculiar forms of style, he had no other means but to surmount the edifice with that defying and colossal tower, which no one will probably presume to carry higher with impunity.”

“If any man,” says the Quarterly Musical Review, “can be said to enjoy an almost universal admiration as a composer, it is Beethoven; who, disdaining to copy his predecessors in any, the most distant, manner, has, notwithstanding, by his energetic, bold, and uncommon style of writing, carried away the prize from our modern Olympus. His peculiar beauties may be enumerated as follows: originality of invention--uncommon passages--a very energetic manner--imitative passages almost innumerable--and abstruse scientific modulation. The first of these peculiarities, no sincere lover of music who has heard any of his symphonies will refuse to admit; and it is principally to this prominent feature in all his works that the fame he has acquired is owing. There is something in the first movements of all his overtures and symphonies, which, to the hearer, conveys a clear impression that the piece is not similar to any he ever heard before by other composers. The frequent employment of discords unresolved with a full harmony, the apparent sombre cast of expression by a continual richness and depth of the bass, the evident preparation for some beautiful allegro or vivace movement; all these conspire to raise the author in our estimation, and to keep our attention alive. Yet, when he does lead us to the quick, it is not upon a light, unmeaning, or dance-like passage, that he chooses to work; conscious of his resources, he gives an excellent subject, gradually rising into importance as the instruments one after the other join in the stringed chorus; and when (as Maister Mace would say) ‘that vast concording unity’ of the whole band comes ‘thundering in,’ we perceive with what admirable skill the orchestra are brought together, and afterwards, to the latter part of the piece, continue our admiration of the scientific manner in which the parts are worked up. The conclusion leaves us in regret.”

In Beethoven’s “Mount of Olives,” the introductory symphony is considered to be so affecting and appropriate as to be equal, if not superior, to Haydn’s introduction, or representation of “Chaos” in the “Creation.” The whole is a striking instance of his originality of invention. With respect to his energetic manner, nearly the whole of his works abound with specimens of this description of beauty. Yet, however, in the midst of his energy, variety, and abstruseness, ideas may sometimes be discovered which create enthusiasm solely from their simplicity. Of this description is the well-known passage in his “Battle Sinfonia,” where the one fifer is supposed to be heard attempting to rally the disordered ranks of the French army, by playing their national air of “Malbrouk,” which he performs in a minor key, from his own presumed thirst and fatigue.

It is said that Beethoven does not write down a single note of his compositions till he has mentally completed them, and that he holds his own earlier compositions in contempt. He usually passes the summer at the pleasant village of Baden, about twelve miles from Vienna. He is very deaf, but can hear without the assistance of any machine, when addressed loudly and distinctly. His principal amusement in the country is taking long walks in the most romantic parts of the vicinity; these excursions he sometimes extends even through the night.[315]

[315] Biographical Dict. of Musicians.

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ANNE DE MONTMORENCY.

Of the sanguinary character of this constable of France some idea may be formed by the specimen which Brantome has given of his favourite orders.--“Go! Let me see those rascals stabbed or shot directly! Hang me that fellow on yonder tree! Hack me to pieces those scoundrels this moment, who dared to defend that church against the king’s forces! Set fire to that village, d’ye hear! Burn me all the country for a mile round this spot!”

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_To the Editor._

Dear sir,--Perhaps you may esteem the enclosed as a curiosity worthy of a place in the _Table Book_. It is a genuine specimen of the _assignats_ used in lieu of money during the French revolution. I believe there are very few now to be had. It was given to me by a French gentleman, whose father (a native of Normandy) had lost considerable sums by them. He had unfortunately converted most of his property into _assignats_, as a precaution during those times, which, although eventually of so much benefit to the French nation, were so distressing while they lasted. But when the use of coin was resumed, he found his intention frustrated, and himself deprived of all his fortune.