MUSIC (Musique, Fr. ; Musket, Movcruci, Gr., from Acolicra a muse or song) is the artistic union of inarticulate sounds and rhythm, exciting agreeable sensations, and raising mental images and emotions directly or indirectly pleasing. Such is pure unmixed music. When conjoined to poetry, it is an art not of diminished importance, but of a dependent nature, its office then being to enforce the meaning of the words and add a colouring to them. As an adjunct it is a beautiful illustration of language ; combined with 'the sister art, it becomes a highly ornamented kind of eloquence.
Music is a kind of language, and as such, says Metastasio, it possesses that advantage over poetry which a universal language has over a particular one ; for this last speaks only to its own age and country; the other speaks to all ages and countries. Music is a language that speaks by imitating, and as such it is understood by those who have successfully studied the art, and likewise by mere amateurs, who, with little if any knowledge of its principles, have learnt the meaning of its expressions by long practice, by frequently hearing and enjoying its performance ; but it can only express passion and sentiment very generally, and commonly fails when it attempts to particularise. This want of absolute decision in what is called musical language is by some writers reckoned among its advantages, because it gives the hearer great latitude in interpreting it, which he usually does in a manner as congenial as possible to his own feelings at the time.
A musical sound—which is a curious compound of other sounds, called harmonics, resulting from a number of vibrations in equal times —when produced by a fine voice, a rich-toned violoncello, or a " mellow horn," excites in all who possess a moderate share of nervous sensibility a suable sensation ; and this, Sir John Herschel observes, "is taps the only instance of a sensation for whose pleasing impression a distinct and intelligible reason can be assigned." Dr. Beattie does not think it absurd to suppose that the body may be mechanically affected by sound. " If," he says, " in a church one feels the floor and the pew tremble, to certain tones of the organ ; if one string vibrates of its own accord when another is sounded near it, of equal length, tension, and thickness ; if a person speaks loud in the neighbourhood of a harpsichord, and often hears the strings of the instrument murmur in the same tone, we need not wonder that some of the finer fibres of tho human frame should be put in a tremulous motion when they happen to be in unison with any notes proceeding from external objects." The surprising connection between form and vibrations producing musical sounds, so beautifully shown in Chiadni's experiments on plates of glass strewed with sand, and put into sonorous vibration, thereby throwing the sand into various symmetrical figures, may be here incidentally mentioned. Though it does not seem to shed any new light on the subject before us, nevertheless, by proving something like sympathy, and of a much more extraordinary kind than that between two strings, in mere matter, it may at a future period lead to interesting discoveries.
The effect of rhythm, or measure, is universally felt and admitted : the most polished inhabitants of Europe, and the moat barbarous natives of the arctic regions, are alive to its influence ; it is that which reduces unmeaning sounds to order, converts them into melody, and bestows on them proportion and a power to charm. The
chirping, or whistling, or singing, as it is called, of most birds, being devoid of rhythm, affords no pleasure but what is derived from asso ciation ; while the single note of a drum, beaten in time, combining sound and measure, is gratifying in a certain degree to every hearer. Indeed, with the ancients rhythm was of paramount importance, if not almost everything, in what they denominated music, a term under which was included much that it dues not imply iu modern language. Aristides Quintilianus, the best of the seven Greek writers on musio collected by Meibomius, remarks that rhythm is the object of three senses, namely, the eight, as in dancing; the hearing, as in mule; and the touch, as in the pulsations of the arteries. • Much of the effect of music on the mind is ascribed to imitation, which is either direct or indirect And it must be understood that we are still speaking of music strictly instrumental, not vocal. The power of direct imitation is confined within narrow limits, though composers have often attempted to enlarge the boundaries at the risk of exposing their own weakness and that of their art. The song of some birds, the whistling of winds, the roaring of the tempest, the sound of cannon, the ringing and tolling of bells, and the tones of the human voice expressive of certain emotions, are considered as legitimate objects of direct imitation ; but it has been affirmed that the rattling of hail, the fall of snow, the motions of animals, actions at sea, battles on land, &c., are not only unrepresentable by any kind of musical instrument at present known, but unfit for imitation if instruments could be con structed for the express purpose. Of all the powers of music, in the opinion of a good critic, the Rev. Thos. Twining, that of the raising of ideas by direct resemblance is the weakest and least, important. " It is indeed so far from being essential to the pleasure of the art, that unless used with great caution, judgment, and delicacy, it will destroy the pleasure by becoming offensive or ridiculous. The highest power of music, and that from which it derives its greatest efficacy, is undoubtedly its power of raising emotions." Indirect Imitation is that by which some quality common to music and the thing imitated is indicated by sounds, strong or weak, quick or slow. Rage is loud, anger is harsh, love and pity are gentle; therefore loud and harsh sounds raise ideas of the former passions and others of the same class ; soft and tranquil sounds raise ideas of the latter and others of a similar character. Ilene° it will be seen, as before observed, that the hearer may interpret music in a manner corresponding In some degree to the state of mind in which it shall find him, but under certain restrictions from which he cannot be released. If agitated by any turbulent passion, he will find it impossible to convert smooth and &Lute music into a language in unison with his irritated feelings ; and if under the softening influence of some tender attachment, or of sorrow for the loss of one beloved or valued, he will be unable to construe bold and brilliant sounds as expressions of sympathy. But music that is not of a decided character will prove more or less convertible.