which the poet has described, and to which Mr. Webbe has given so glorious a musical interpretation.* The organ is in itself an epitome of a whole band, for it not only is able to express all the parts of a composition, but to imitate with sufficient similitude to convey a competent notion of the design of the author, the accompaniment of the flute, horn, trumpet, or any instrument, the sound of which is produced by the same means the passage of the air through tubes. Its properties are power, sustentation, and grandeur. But the organ retains at all times, even under the most rapid execution, a character of solemnity, or at least of gravity, which precludes its being used to any light purpose. In accompaniment it is principally useful as an instrument of all pervading power, capable of supporting even the most extensive orchestra, of keeping together a chorus, and of serving as an universal point of reliance for all. It has, also its beauties as a solo accompaniment, and of these I shall speak hereafter. The double base is not alone the foundation, but like the fibres which rise along the bark of a tree to its branches, is identified as it were with all the other parts. It gives a support, strength, and fullness to the harmony, and imparts so much precision to the execution of any composition, that it confers a gravity and consistency which no other instrument can infuse. Nor is power all its excellence. When touched by the hand of such a master as Dragonetti, its softest tones bestow a richness which can be afforded by no other means. It has been often said that the finest body of sound is obtained from a number of instruments playing soft, rather than from a few playing loud. Here the effect is almost reversed. No combination from other instruments can equal in depth or richness the murmur of the double bass when played piano. * Thy voice, O Harmony! with awful sound, Explore the realms of ancient night, And search the living source of unborn light. And Chaos deeper plung'd his vanquished head. In mystic dance began to move Around the radiant sphere of central fire, A never ceasing, never silent quire. The violoncello in concert rises just above the double bass, which it assists, while it adds lightness to the composite results of combined tones. When we hear a fine body of sound, drawn from all sorts of instruments, it affects us like the light of the firmament, which, though composed of various colours, seems in itself colourless; we are sensible only to its power and brilliancy, but we lose all exact knowledge of its constituent parts in the general blaze. Thus in the production of fine tone, though many various properties be necessary, the ear drinks them in their compound state, unless specific attention be given to any one of the constituents. But though the instrument I am speaking of melts into the common mass, it has yet properties which make it of equal importance with those most important. Its fine, rich, brilliant tone, the power it affords to execution, its contrast to some, and its agreement with other instruments and voices, all fit it more generally and not less expressly for the various purposes of accompaniment than perhaps any other; while in solo parts and passages of melody, it is employed to no less advantage. Its power in supporting the singer in recitative is greater than that of any other, because it can not only hold the sustaining note, but give the full chords in arpeggio. The tenor is scarcely to be considered more than useful in filling and completing the harmonious whole. Its mediocrity obscures its qualities. It is lost by comparison with the violoncello which stands below, and with the violin which ranges above it. The tenor wants the volume and command of the one-the facility and brilliancy of the other. It can hardly therefore be regarded in any other light than as an humble and an useful assistant, a follower occasionally to both. The violin has almost from the first moment of its introduction been considered as the most perfect of all corded instruments. Its compass, the brilliancy of its tone, its various expressive powers, and the means it affords to execution-all combine to render it pre-eminent above all others. The perfection at which the wind instruments have arrived is the work of modern ingenuity, as their more universal application is the effect of modern science. We need scarcely go back further than Handel or Purcell to find the stringed instruments, with a little occasional assistance from the trumpet and the hautbois at most, the only accompaniment. The symphony was not then known. The bassoon is an instrument that has not yet, I think, fulfilled all its purposes. Bating a reediness that detracts from its smoothness and beauty, its tones are such as to produce various effectsthese however are chiefly sedative, tender, or melancholic. The associations attached to the bassoon are fewer perhaps than to any other instrument. It is not poetical in its shape, dimensions, or application. Every damsel feels that it would be as impossible to admire a swain who should aspire to breathe his melting strains through its bulky and involuted tubes, as Lady Delacour declares it is to love a man in creaking boots. Hence the bassoon is without an epithet. If not absolutely "unhallowed," it is certainly "unsung." The clarinet, on the contrary, has been made especially martial by its uses. But although we cannot entirely divest ourselves of the impressions thus extrinsically forced as it were upon our minds, we are to regard the intrinsic properties of the objects we are discussing. The clarinet then I should say, holds a middle place (like the tenor between the violin and violoncello) between the bassoon and hautbois; and while it wants the depth and smoothness of the one, it lacks the brilliancy of the other. Yet it has also the advantage of being (relatively) fuller than the last, and more animating than the first. It is this which brings it into more play amongst the wind, than the tenor amidst stringed instruments. Perhaps its application to the expression of passion is more various than either, but I question whether it is capable of raising such intense emotions; and this is a distinction which holds generally-indeed it appears to be the law by which nature compensates us for the discrepancies in our affections, in our moral as well as our sensual appetites. The wider we extend our enjoyments, the less strongly we feel them-the larger the surface on which they are spread, the less the depth-the more we seek to multiply our gratifications, the less hold they take on our sensibility and on our remembrance, The hautbois is the only instrument in modern use which fancy can liken to the pastoral reed that makes such a figure in poetic song. There are considerable defects in its tone. It has the same reedy drawback which lies upon the bassoon and clarinet, I with the additional evil that as its pitch is higher, its nasality (if may be allowed such an illustration) is the more perceptible. The hautbois is used to express the opposite feelings of joy and sorrow. But in itself its tone is rather stimulant than soothing, nor do I think, from its want of purity, it can ever be said to be absolutely and entirely pleasing-that is, physically pleasing without alloy. But our judgment in this particular is so modified by habits and circumstances, that I should hesitate to trust my own opinion upon such a point. "The soft complaining flute" takes either a wailing or a shrill and sprightly character as it is employed-but its true nature is soft, tender, and lugubrious. In such a disquisition as this we must not suffer ourselves to be led away by the improvements or the powers of an individual artist. Mr. Nicholson can make the flute speak the language of almost any passion-but this is a quality rather appertaining to the man than the instrument. We may indeed avail ourselves of the distinction which modern usage or modern additions have made general-for to these the wind instruments are universally indebted, and indeed symphony music itself, for the greatest share of their advancement. The horn has been so generally devoted to images of the chase, that it should almost seem to be given up, without equity of redemption, to that sole idea. But there is in the properties of its tone a beautiful power of various adaptation, which, in spite of the strongest association that appertains perhaps to any instrument whatsoever, renders its employment in different and even opposite expression peculiarly delightful. Warm, rich, soothing, tender, mournful, or inspiring, its uses seem surprisingly multiplied when its limited range is considered, both as to compass, keys, and celerity of movement. Perhaps this is not owing to the quality of the tone only, but to the means of modification the player possesses. He can attenuate or enrich, increase or diminish, gradually swell and gradually decrease, its melting sounds.And if the same power reside in other wind instruments, it is to be recollected that in none else is there such fullness as in the horn; consequently the player has more scope for the display of his fancy and feeling in the several degrees of modification, any one of which he can choose. The trumpet, shrill and ear-piercing, martial or awful, is asso ciated with only two ideas-war, and the resurrection from death. This allies its use in all cases to the sublime.* The serpent is employed to strengthen the base, and occasionally to increase the roundness, quality, or force of this portion of the harmony.+ The trombones by power and quality carry sublimity even higher than the trumpet, but are restricted by other circumstances to a far more limited use. The drums are applied to the same purposes by the mere increase of sound-by thickening, as it were, the general obscuration, or augmenting the general grandeur resulting from volume. This and an occasional production of descriptive effects are the proper and natural employment of this primordial instrument. The harp embodies, as it were, ideas of elegance, and it is also by association devotional. Its sounds are, comparatively speaking, so stringy, powerless, and evanescent, that they can hardly be said to raise any strong emotions per se-by their own proper nature and impulse. The armonica or carillons, the cymbals, tambourine, and triangle, are all employed only in descriptive or martial music, and are to be considered rather as increasing or varying the quantity of sound than as capable of any specific expression; they do indeed introduce a certain sprightliness and swell the train of musicians, thus adding something of the splendour of extension to the whole. But as accessories to descriptive music alone they are useful, and assist in proving the power of sound in imitating either * I remember some years ago to have heard a man, Schmidt, I think, play Crazy Jane. It produced much such an effect upon my mind as I conceive it would to hear The Young May Moon upon the serpent. + Although this instrument is limited in its compass to ten tones, I have heard very extraordinary performance upon it. About thirty years ago there came to England a Frenchman, of the name of Frichot, who played an air with variations, of rapid execution, and containing very difficult chromatic passages. His instrument was a long tube, terminated by a globe about seven or eight inches in diameter, in the side of which (as nearly as I can remember) was a pretty large orifice. It was in a serpentine form, but the bends were not more than a foot in extent. The tube gradually increased in size, from the mouth-piece to the globe. Its tone was round and pure, resembling the lower notes of a bassoon, but deeper, and of greater volume. His execution was clean, and his intonation accurate, but it seemed a work of vast labour to play with the rapidity he had attained. |