Shakespeare and music

L. 103-114, another song, "Farewell, dear heart" [Appendix].

It is perhaps necessary to explain the nature of a Catch, or Round, more clearly. The two names were interchangeable in the 16th and 17th centuries. It was not till quite modern times that 'Catch' implied a necessary quibble in the words, deliberately arranged by the writer. First, a Catch or Round of the best type of Elizabethan times consisted of one melody, generally perfectly continuous. Secondly, the said melody was always divisible into a certain number of equal sections, varying from three to six, or even eight; and as many sections as there were, so many voices were necessary. Thirdly, each of these equal sections was deliberately arranged so as to make Harmony with every other.

Here are the words of a Round of the 17th century, which is divisible into three equal sections, and therefore is sung by three voices.

Now, the way for three persons, A, B, and C, to sing this Catch or Round, is as follows:—

A begins [see above, line 69, 'Begin, fool'] line 1, and immediately proceeds to line 2; at this very instant, B in his turn begins line 1, and acts similarly. When A has reached the first syllable in line 3, and B is at 'Good' in line 2, it is time for C also to begin at line 1. As soon as A has finished line 3, he begins again; and so on with the others—'round' and 'round' till they are tired of 'catching' each other up.

Thus when they are all three fairly set going, their one melody produces three part harmony, and the catchers have drawn 'three souls out of one weaver.'

The principle in all other Catches or Rounds is exactly the same, however great the number of parts.

In the following we have another case of catch-singing. The original music of 'Flout 'em' has not come down to us.

Tempest III, ii, 122.

Also Id. III, ii, 119.

Stephano, like most of the scamps in Shakespeare, is a good musician. He leads the catch, appreciates Ariel's tabor playing (l. 152), and is overjoyed to think that he will have all his music 'for nothing' (l. 145) in the magical isle.

Finally, in the Taming of the Shrew, we have the title of another old catch, of which the music has survived—viz., 'Jack, boy.'

Shrew IV, i, 42.

The words of this catch, which takes four voices, are—

The music [see Appendix], like that of so many other catches, is anonymous, and is of some date long before Shakespeare.

As You V, iii, 7.

[Song follows, 'It was a lover.' Could be sung as a two-part madrigal quite easily. See Bridge's 'Shakespeare Songs,' for Morley's original setting.]

The First Page's speech at l. 9. is most humorously appropriate. 'Both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse,' is a quaint description of a duet. There is yet another pun on 'lost time' in ll. 36-8.

Jaques' cynicism comes out even in his limited dealings with music.

As You IV, ii, 5.

Song follows, 'What shall he have, that kill'd the deer,' Rimbault, p. 19. Music by Hilton, date about 1600, probably the original setting, a Round for four foresters.

This section will conclude with two quotations about singing of a more serious turn.

Tw. II, iv, 1.

'Light airs' in line 5 means 'vain fiddling jigs'—i.e., lively instrumental music. Lines 20-22 and 43 are worth remembering for many reasons.

The next and last passage requires no remark, except that 'organ pipe of frailty' means simply the voice of the dying king.

King John V, vii, 10. Death of K. John.

IV

Thus, one hundred years before Shakespeare was born, Serenades of voices and instruments were common, and in general practice by all classes of young men, and not only laymen, but also yonge fooles of the spiritualtie.

The instruments mentioned are such as were still in use in Shakespeare's time—viz., harp, lute, 'foolish' pipe, bagpipe, and 'foolish' flute, besides the several varieties of song, which evidently included both solo and part singing—'feigned' ballads for a single voice [ballads, that is, in the more refined 'keys' of 'Musica Ficta'], and 'Countering,' which implies that two voices at least took part.

The following passage is an example of this nocturnal serenading by a company of gentlemen.

Two Gent. III, ii, 83.

Proteus advises Thurio to get a 'consort' (probably of viols) to play a 'dump' under Silvia's window. He goes to arrange for some of his friends to attend for this purpose. The serenade takes place in the next Act, where, in the 2nd scene, line 17, it is called 'evening music,' but does not include the 'dump,' for Thurio has 'a sonnet that will serve the turn,' so they sing 'Who is Silvia.'

Here is the passage, which is full of quibbles on musical terms.

Two Gent. IV, ii, 16.

The next passage is of a serenade in the early morning. Cloten arranges for the musicians (who seem in this case to be professional players) to give two pieces, one instrumental, followed by a song.

Cymbeline II, iii, 11. Cloten serenades Imogen.

In l. 14, 'fingering' and 'tongue' correspond to 'playing' and 'singing.' The first is to be a 'Fancy' for viols, 'a very excellent good-conceited thing'; the second is the 'wonderful sweet air,' Hark! hark! the lark.

'Good-conceited' means having many 'conceits.' These 'fancies' were always contrapuntal, and the various artificial contrivances, answering of points, imitations, and what not, are referred to under this title. The mention of 'horse-hairs and calves'-guts' makes it clear that the instruments in this 'morning music' were Viols.

Another 'evening music' is provided by Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

Pericles II, v, 24. Pericles, a musician [his education had been 'in arts and arms,' see II, iii, 82].

The next quotation is also of 'morning music,' but with a different object—not a lady, but a soldier, and of a somewhat rough and ready kind, to judge by the Clown's critical remarks.

The passage seems to indicate the use of Bagpipes; for 'they speak in the nose' (see Merchant IV, i, 48), and are called wind-instruments, and are mentioned under the name 'pipes' in the last two lines. Moreover, there is the remark of the Clown, represented here by stars, which is terribly appropriate to that instrument.

Othello III, i. Cassio brings musicians to salute Othello.

Pandarus appears to be a capital musician. In the following we find him questioning a musical servant of Priam's palace about some instrumental music which is going on within, 'at the request of Paris.' The servant amuses himself by giving 'cross' answers to Pandarus' crooked questions, and in the process gets out two or three musical jokes—e.g., 'partly know,' 'music in parts,' 'wholly, sir.' Further on, Paris also plays on the term 'broken' music.

Troilus and Cressida III, i, 19.

The custom of having instrumental music in taverns has already been referred to in the Introduction, near the end, where we learn that the charge for playing before the guests was twenty shillings for two hours in Shakespeare's time; also that a man could hardly go into a public house of entertainment without being followed by two or three itinerant musicians, who would either sing or play for his pleasure, while he was at dinner. Accordingly, we find Sir John Falstaff enjoying such a performance at the Boar's Head, Eastcheap.

H. 4. B. II, iv, 10.

The term 'Sneak's noise' is most interesting. 'Noise' means a company of musicians, and Mr Sneak was the gentleman who gave his name to the particular band of instrumentalists who favoured the Boar's Head.

Milton uses the word, in this sense, in the poem 'At a Solemn Music,' where the 'saintly shout' of the seraphic choir, with 'loud uplifted angel-trumpets,' 'immortal harps of golden wires,' and the singing of psalms and hymns, are collectively called 'that melodious noise.' Also in his Hymn on the Nativity, verse ix., he has 'stringèd noise'—i.e., band of stringed instruments. The Prayer-book Version (Great Bible) of the Psalms, which was made in 1540, has the word in Ps. lxxxi. 1, 'Make a cheerful noise unto the God of Jacob,' and this in the next verses is said to consist of various musical instruments—e.g., the tabret, harp, lute, and trumpet. Also in the Authorised Version of 1611, Ps. xxxiii. 3, 'play skilfully with a loud noise,' which was the instrumental accompaniment to a 'new song.' The same word is used in several other places, with the meaning of 'music'—e.g., Pss. lxvi. 1; xcv. 1, 2; xcviii. 4, 6; c. 1; where 'to make a joyful noise' is represented in the original by the same verb, except in one of the two cases in Ps. xcviii. 4.

The word was still in use in 1680, when Dr Plot was present at the annual Bull-running held by the Minstrels of Tutbury, one of the features of which festivity was a banquet, with 'a Noise of musicians playing to them.'

The reputed cure of the Tarantula's bite by music has already been mentioned. The next three examples are of somewhat similar cases.

In the first, Henry IV. in sickness asks for music; the second is an account of Cerimon's attempt to rouse the half-drowned Thaisa with at least partial assistance from music; while the third represents Prospero using a solemn air to remove the magic spell which he had cast on Alonso and his other enemies.

H. 4. B. IV, iv, 133. K. Hen. on his sick-bed.

Pericles III, ii, 87. Cerimon's house at Ephesus. Thaisa, cast up by the sea, is brought to life by his directions.

Tempest V, i, 51. Prospero employs music to disenchant Alonso, Antonio, etc.

Next we have two examples of 'Music at Home.' In the case of the Duke in Twelfth Night, it is 'concerted' music, and the players seem to be performing such a quaint old piece as 'The Lord of Salisbury his Pavin,' by Gibbons, in Parthenia, the last 'strain' of which has just such a 'dying fall' as is mentioned in line 4. [See the remarks on the passage from Lucrece in Section I. on the technical meaning of 'strain.']

Twelfth Night I, i.

Brutus' musical establishment is on a smaller scale than the Duke's. He keeps a 'good boy,' who can sing to his own accompaniment on the lute, and is such a willing servant as to perform when almost overcome by sleep.

Julius Cæsar IV, iii, 256. Brutus and his servant Lucius.

In Henry VIII. III, i is a case of the same kind.

[Song. 'Orpheus.']

The next passage brings us to another class of music—viz., dirges, funeral songs, or 'good-nights.' [See H. 4. B. III, ii, 322]. In Cymbeline IV, ii, 184, Cadwal (Arviragus) sounds an 'ingenious instrument' to signify Imogen's death. Polydore (Guiderius) says they had not used it since their mother died. The song, or more properly, duet, which they sing directly after, in memory of Imogen, may be taken in this connection. Unfortunately there seems to be no musical setting of 'Fear no more the heat o' the sun' any older than 1740.

In the following quotation 'dirges' are mentioned by name.

Rom. IV, iv, 21.

In close connection with these funeral songs is the passage in Hen. VIII. IV, ii, 77, where Queen Katherine, sick, requests her gentleman-usher to get the musicians to play a favourite piece of this class—

It would be of great interest if it were possible to identify Queen Katherine's 'Knell.'

There is an old song, given in Chappell's Popular Music, 'O Death, rock me to sleep,' which might be the very one, for both music and words are singularly appropriate. The Refrain is as follows:—

The song is most plaintive, and has a very striking feature in the shape of a real independent accompaniment, which keeps up a continual figure of three descending notes, like the bells of a village church. Hawkins gives the poem, with certain variations, and two extra verses at the beginning, the first commencing—

and he says the verses are thought to have been written by Anne Boleyn. Hawkins also gives music (in four parts) to the first two verses, by Robt. Johnson, a contemporary of Shakespeare's. The music of the song in Chappell is much older than that; indeed, it is very possibly of Hen. VIII.'s time.

V

All the ancient dances were originally sung. In Grove's Dictionary, Vol. ii. p. 676, there is given the music of a Pavan, in four vocal parts, with the words sung [copied from Arbeau's Orchésographie, 1588]. Morley (Practical Music, 1597) mentions Ballete, as being 'songs which being sung to a dittie may likewise be danced.' Again, he speaks of 'a kind of songs ... called Justinianas ... all written in the Bergamasca language.' See Mids. Nt. Dream V, ii, 30, where Bottom is not so very inaccurate after all in asking Duke Theseus to 'hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company.' The same author also gives 'Passamesos with a dittie [i.e., sung],' and distinguishes between these aforesaid and 'those kinds which they make without ditties.' [Passamesos are Passing-measures—or Passamezzo—Pavans, see Twelfth Nt. V, i, 200.]

Hence it appears that in Elizabeth's reign some dances were sung, and others were simply played.

Morley goes on to instance two particular dances which were commonly associated together—viz., Pavans and Galliards. [Tw. V, i, 200, I, iii, 127, etc., H. 5. I, ii, 252], the first of which he says is for 'grave' dancing, having three 'strains,' each containing 8, 12, or 16 semibreves (two beats in a bar), which are each repeated; and that this Pavan is usually followed by a Galliard, 'a kind of music made out of the other' [see Bull's Pavan and Galliard, 'St Thomas Wake,' in Parthenia] in triple time, 'a lighter and more stirring dance than the Pavan, and consisting of the same number of straines.'

The next passage from Morley is very interesting when compared with the stage direction in Timon I, ii, 131, where a masque of Ladies as Amazons enter the banquetting hall at Timon's house, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing. This stage direction corresponds closely with Morley's account, 'the Italians make their galliards (which they tearm salta relly) plain' [i.e., alone; not as an appendage to the Pavan, as in England], 'and frame ditties to them, which in their mascaradoes they sing and dance, and manie times without any instruments at all, but instead of instruments they have Curtisans disguised in men's apparell, who sing and daunce to their own songes.'

The 'French bransle,' he says, is like the Alman (Allemagne of Bach, etc.)—i.e., it 'containeth the time of eight, and most commonly in short notes.' This is the Brawl, see L.L.L. III, i, 9, and was one of several tunes to which the Country Dance was danced, whether in a ring, or 'at length,' like our 'Sir Roger.'

He says that the 'voltes and courantes' also are 'like unto this,' but are 'danced after sundrie fashions' [he means, with different steps, but occupying the same rhythmical time, so that the same tune would do], 'the volte rising and leaping, the courant travising and running, in which measure also our Countrey dance is made, though it be danced after another form than any of the former.'

'All these be made in straines, either two or three.' See Tw. I, i, 4, 'that strain again,' or Julius Cæsar IV, iii, 258, 'touch thy instrument a strain or two.'

Christopher Sympson, the royalist soldier (1667), confirms Morley's statements as to the constitution and use of these dances. See his 'Compendium,' p. 116, where he expressly states that pure instrumental music, 'made only to delight the ear,' is merely a development from Dances.

He speaks of the association of Pavan and Galliard as being 'in course.' He spells the latter Giliard, and says that it is 'according to its name' [see Skeat, Etym. Dict., Spanish, gallardo (ll = ly), pleasant, gay, lively] 'of a loftly and frolick movement.' Immediately afterwards, however, Sympson seems to forget his own remarks, for he says the name is derived from Gallia, 'the country whence it came.'

On page 117 he speaks of Corants, Sarabands, Jiggs, Country Dances, etc., as 'things so common in each one's ears' that he 'need not enlarge his Discourse' to them.

There is a capital bit of patriotism on page 118, which deserves quoting, first, because at the time it was entirely justifiable; secondly, because it shews us that in 1667, instrumental music had at last decidedly parted company with vocal part-writing, and had an independent existence. 'You need not seek Outlandish Authors, especially for Instrumental Music; no Nation (in my opinion) being equal to the English in that way; as well for their excellent as their various and numerous Consorts, of 3, 4, 5, and 6 Parts, made properly [on purpose] for Instruments, of all which (as I said) Fancies are the chief.' For 'Consort,' see Two Gent. III, ii, 83; and for 'Fancies,' Hen. IV. B. III, ii, 323.

Hawkins (1776) does not add much of interest to the above account of the Elizabethan dances, except (p. 704) that there is no authority for a Jigg having generally a pointed (i.e., dotted) note at the beginning of every bar. There is, however, a 'Jegge' given in Stainer and Barrett's Dict. of Musical Terms, dated 1678, where the 'pointed' note is quite characteristic. This may be a more modern feature, for an undoubtedly ancient Jig—viz., Dr Bull's 'King's Hunting Jigg,' not only has no dotted note, but is in common time, without even a tendency towards the rhythm of triplets. [Also see Appendix, 'Cobbler's Jig.' 1622.]

Here is a most entertaining quotation from Selden,[19] dealing with fashionable court dances in Elizabeth's reign, and shewing how things had gone from bad to worse in respect of dignity and state in dancing, under the Stuarts.

There are very many passages of interest, containing references to Dances. The first one here given is an instance (in Shakespeare's very text) of singing a dance and dancing to it at the same time. Here the Brawl, and Canary, the first in alphabetical order, are coupled together.

L.L.L. III, i, 9.