accounts. It greatly increases those pleasures of life which are not only innocent, but useful. It qualifies us to be of far greater service to our fellow creatures. It is more especially desirable for those whose profession calls them to converse with many, seeing it enables them to be more agreeable, and consequently more profitable, in conversation. 15. But how shall a man know whether he is possessed of this faculty or not? "Let him," says Mr. Addison, "read over the celebrated works of antiquity" (to know whether he has a taste for fine writing), "which have stood the test of so many ages and countries; or those works among the moderns which have the sanction of the politer part of our contemporaries. If, upon the perusal of such writings, he does not find himself delighted in an extraordinary manner, or if, upon reading the admired passages in such authors, he finds a coldness and indifference in his thoughts, he ought to conclude, not (as is most common among tasteless readers) that the author wants those perfections which have been admired in them, but that he himself wants the faculty of discerning them." 16. But how can a man acquire this taste? It "must in some degree be born with us; as it often happens that those who have other qualities in perfection are wholly void of this. But though it may in some measure be born with us, there are several means of improving it, without which it will be very imperfect, and of little use to the person that possesses it. The most natural means is to be conversant with the writings of the best authors. One that has any taste either discovers new beauties or receives stronger impressions from the masterly strokes of a great author every times he peruses him." 17. "Conversation with men of genius is another means of improving our natural taste. It is impossible for a man of the greatest parts to consider any thing in its whole extent. Every man, besides general observations upon an author, forms some that are peculiar to his own way of thinking. So that conversation will naturally furnish us with hints which we did not attend to, and make us enjoy other men's parts and reflections as well as our own." Besides, if we converse freely with men of taste, and incite them to " open the window in their breast," we may learn to correct whatever is yet amiss in our taste, as well as to supply whatever we or they perceive to be still wanting; all which may be directed to that glorious end, the "pleasing all men for their good unto edification." THE POWER OF MUSIC. 1. By the power of music I mean its power to affect the hearers, to raise various passions in the human mind. Of this we have very surprising accounts in ancient history. We are told the ancient Greek musicians in particular were able to excite whatever passions they pleased; to inspire love or hate, joy or sorrow, hope or fear, courage, fury, or despair; yea, to raise these one after another, and to vary the passion just according to the variation of the music. 2. But how is this to be accounted for? No such effects attend the modern music; although it is confessed on all hands that our instruments excel theirs beyond all degrees of comparison. What was their lyre, their instruments of seven or ten strings, compared to our violin? What were any of their pipes to our hautboy or German flute? What, all of them put together, all that were in use two or three thousand years ago, to our organ? How is it, then, that with this inconceivable advantage the modern music has less power than the ancient? 3. Some have given a very short answer to this, cutting the knot which they could not untie. They have doubted, or affected to doubt, the fact; perhaps have even denied it. But no sensible man will do this, unless he be utterly blinded by prejudice. For it would be denying the faith of all history, seeing no fact is better authenticated. None is delivered down to us by more unquestionable testimony, such as fully satisfies in all other cases. We have, therefore, no more reason to doubt of the power of Timotheus's music than that of Alexander's arms; and we may deny his taking Persepolis, as well as his burning it through that sudden rage which was excited in him by that musician. And the various effects which were successively wrought in his mind (so beautifully described by Dryden, in his "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day") are astonishing instances of the power of a single harp to transport, as it were, the mind out of itself. 4. Nay, we read of an instance, even in modern history, of the power of music not inferior to this. A musician being brought to the King of Denmark and asked whether he could excite any passion, answered in the affirmative, and was commanded to make the trial upon the king himself. Presently the monarch was all in tears; and, upon the musician's changing his mood, he was quickly roused into such fury that, snatching a sword from one of his assistant's hands (for they had purposely removed his own), he immediately killed him, and would have killed all in the room had he not been forcibly withheld. 5. This alone removes all the incredibility of what is related concerning the ancient music. But why is it that modern music in general has no such effect on the hearers? The grand reason seems to be no other than this: the whole nature and design of music is altered. The ancient composers studied melody alone, the due arrangement of single notes; and it was by melody alone that they wrought such wonderful effects. And as this music was directly calculated to move the passions, so they designed it for this very end. But the modern composers study harmony, which, in the present sense of the word, is quite another thing; namely, a contrast of various notes, opposite to, and yet blended with each other, wherein they, Now high, now low, pursue the resonant fugue. Dr. Gregory says, "this harmony has been known in the world little more than two hundred years." Be that as it may, ever since it was introduced, ever since counterpoint has been invented, as it has altered the grand design of music, so it has well nigh destroyed its effects. 6. Some indeed have imagined and attempted to prove that the ancients were acquainted with this. It seems there needs but one single argument to demonstrate the contrary. We have many capital pieces of ancient music that are now in the hands of the curious. Dr. Pepusch, who was well versed in the music of antiquity (perhaps the best of any man in Europe), showed me several large Greek folios which contained many of their musical compositions. Now, is there, or is there not, any counterpoint in these? The learned know there is no such thing. There is not the least trace of it to be found; it is all melody and no harmony. 7. And as the nature of music is thus changed, so is likewise the design of it. Our composers do not aim at moving the passions, but at quite another thing—at varying and contrasting the notes a thousand different ways. What has counterpoint to do with the passions? It is applied to a quite different faculty of the mind; not to our joy or hope or fear, but merely to the ear, to the imagination, or internal sense. And the pleasure it gives is not upon this principle, not by raising any passion whatever. It no more affects the passions than the judgment; both the one and the other lie quite out of its province. 8. Need we any other and can we have any stronger proof of this than those modern overtures, voluntaries, or concertos, which consist altogether of artificial sounds, without any words at all? What have any of the passions to do with these? What has judgment, reason, common sense? Just nothing at all. All these are utterly excluded by delicate, unmeaning sound! 9. In this respect the modern music has no connection with com mon sense any more than with the passions. In another it is glaringly, undeniably contrary to common sense; namely, in allowing, yea, appointing, different words to be sung by different persons at the same time. What can be more shocking to a man of understanding than this? Pray, which of those sentences am I to attend to? I can attend to only one sentence at once; and I hear three or four at one and the same instant! And, to complete the matter, this astonishing jargon has found a place even in the worship of God! It runs through (O, pity! O, shame!) the greatest part even of our church music! It is found even in the finest of our anthems and in the most solemn parts of our public worship! Let any impartial, any unprejudiced person say whether there can be a more direct mockery of God. 10. But to return: Is it strange that modern music does not answer the end it is designed for, and which it is in no wise calculated for? It is not possible it should. Had Timotheus" pursued the resonant fugue" his music would have been quite harmless. It would have affected Alexander no more than Bucephalus; the finest city then in the world had not been destroyed; but Persepolis stares, Cyrique arz alta maneres. [Persepolis, thou mightst have stood, and the lofty tower of Cyrus.*] 11. It is true the modern music has been sometimes observed to have as powerful effect as the ancient, so that frequently single persons and sometimes numerous assemblies have been seen in a flood of tears. But when was this? Generally, if not always, when a fine solo was sung; when "the sound has been an echo to the sense;" when the music has been extremely simple and inartificial, the composer having attended to melody, not harmony. Then, and then only, the natural power of music to move the passions has appeared. This music was calculated for that end, and effectually answered it. 12. Upon this ground it is that so many persons are so much affected by Scotch or Irish airs. They are composed not according to art, but nature; they are simple in the highest degree. There is no harmony, according to the present sense of the word, therein, but there is much melody. And this is not only heard, but felt by all those who retain their native taste; whose taste is not biassed (I might say corrupted) by attending to counterpoint [* The line in Virgil, altered by Mr. Wesley as above, is, “Trojaque nunc stares, Priamique arx alta maneres." And still thy towers had stood, majestic Troy."-Pitt.1 and complicated music. It is this, it is counterpoint, it is harmony (so called) which destroys the power of music. And if ever this should be banished from our composition, if ever we should return to the simplicity and melody of the ancients, then the effects of our music will be as surprising as any that were wrought by theirs; yea, perhaps they will be as much greater as modern instruments are more excellent than those of the ancients. JOHN WESLEY. INVERNESS, June 9, 1779. THE MANNER OF EDUCATING CHILDREN. (Printed in the year 1783.) 1. A GENTLEMAN with whom I was conversing a while ago was speaking largely on the manner of educating children. He objected strongly to the bringing them up too strictly, to the giving them more religion than they liked, to the telling them of it too often, or pressing it upon them whether they will or no. He said he never pressed it upon his own children, but only spoke of it occasionally in their hearing; and if they appeared affected, then answered their questions, or perhaps spoke to them directly. He thought that the common methods that are used in those that are called religious schools, of talking about divine things continually, and daily pressing it upon children, did abundantly more harm than good, especially if any severity were used; and concluded with saying that those children who had been trained up in this manner as soon as the restraint was taken off were commonly worse than others. 2. As all this was perfectly new to me, I made little answer for the present; but it put me upon much. thought. I knew it was quite agreeable to the sentiments of Rousseau in his Emilius, the most empty, silly, injudicious thing that ever a self-conceited infidel wrote. But I knew it was quite contrary to the judgment of the wisest and best men I have known. I thought, If these things are so, how much mischief have we done unawares! How much hurt has Miss Bosanquet (now Mrs. Fletcher) been doing in the world for many years? How much more has Miss Owen done, spoiling twenty children at a time? How much mischief is Miss Bishop likely to do? Perhaps more than even Miss Owen. Above all, how much mischief has been done and is now doing at Kingswood, where (if this hypothesis be true) we are continually ruining fifty children at a time? |