what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?<135>
Tubal. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.
Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Francfort? the curse never fell upon our nation till now, I never felt it till now; two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious jewels! I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear; O would she were hers’d at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin. No news of them; why, so! and I know not what’s spent in the search: why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o’ my shoulders; no sighs but o’ my breathing, no tears but o’ my shedding.
Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Anthonio, as I heard in Genoa—
Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away, coming from Tripolis.
Shy. I thank God, I thank God; is it true? is it true?
Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.
Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal; good news, good news, ha, ha: where? in Genoa?
Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats.
Shy. Thou stick’st a dagger in me; I shall never see my gold again; four-score ducats at a sitting, fourscore ducats!
Tub. There came divers of Anthonio’s creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot chuse but break.<136>
Shy. I am glad of it, I’ll plague him, I’ll torture him; I am glad of it.
Tub. One of them shew’d me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.
Shy. Out upon her! thou torturest me, Tubal; it was my Turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor; I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkies.
Tub. But Anthonio is certainly undone.
Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true; go fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.
Merchant of Venice, act 3. sc. 1.
In the same manner, good news arriving to a man labouring under distress, occasions a vibration in his mind from the one to the other:
Osmyn. By Heav’n thou’st rous’d me from my lethargy.
The spirit which was deaf to my own wrongs,
And the loud cries of my dead father’s blood,
Deaf to revenge—nay, which refus’d to hear
The piercing sighs and murmurs of my love
Yet unenjoy’d; what not Almeria could
Revive, or raise, my people’s voice has waken’d.
O my Antonio, I am all on fire,
My soul is up in arms, ready to charge
And bear amidst the foe with conqu’ring troops.
I hear ’em call to lead ’em on to liberty,<137>
To victory; their shouts and clamours rend
My ears, and reach the heav’ns: where is the king?
Where is Alphonso? ha! where! where indeed?
O I could tear and burst the strings of life,
To break these chains. Off, off, ye stains of royalty!
Off, slavery! O curse, that I alone
Can beat and flutter in my cage, when I
Would soar, and stoop at victory beneath!
Mourning Bride, act 3. sc. 2.
If the emotions be unequal in force, the stronger after a conflict will extinguish the weaker. Thus the loss of a house by fire, or of a sum of money by bankruptcy, will make no figure in opposition to the birth of a long-expected son, who is to inherit an opulent fortune: after some slight vibrations, the mind settles in joy, and the loss is forgot.
The foregoing40 observations will be found of great use in the fine arts. Many practical rules are derived from them, which shall afterward be mentioned; but for instant gratification in part, the reader will accept the following specimen, being an application of these observations to music. It must be premised, that no disagreeable combination of sounds is entitled to the name of music: for all music is resolvable into melody and harmony, which imply agreeableness in their very conception.* Secondly, the agreeableness of vocal<138> music differs from that of instrumental: the former, being intended to accompany words, ought to be expressive of the sentiment that they convey; but the latter having no connection with words, may be agreeable without relation to any sentiment: harmony properly so called, though delightful when in perfection, hath no relation to sentiment; and we often find melody without the least tincture of it.* Thirdly, in vocal music, the intimate connection of sense and sound rejects dissimilar emotions, those especially that are opposite. Similar emotions produced by the sense and the sound, go naturally into union; and at the same time are concordant or harmonious: but dissimilar emotions, forc’d into union by these causes intimately connected, obscure each other, and are also unpleasant by discordance.
These premisses make it easy to determine what sort of poetical compositions are fitted for music. In general, as music in all its various tones ought<139> to be agreeable, it never can be concordant with any composition in language expressing a disagreeable passion, or describing a disagreeable object: for here the emotions raised by the sense and by the sound, are not only dissimilar but opposite; and such emotions forc’d into union produce always an unpleasant mixture. Music accordingly is a very improper companion for sentiments of malice, cruelty, envy, peevishness, or of any other dissocial passion; witness among a thousand King John’s speech in Shakespear, soliciting Hubert to murder Prince Arthur, which even in the most cursory view will appear incompatible with any sort of music.41 Music is a companion no less improper for the description of any disagreeable object, such as that of Polyphemus in the third book of the Aeneid, or that of Sin in the second book of Paradise lost: the horror of the object described and the pleasure of the music, would be highly discordant.
With regard to vocal music, there is an additional reason against associating it with disagreeable passions. The external signs of such passions are painful; the looks and gestures to the eye, and the tone of pronunciation to the ear: such tones therefore can never be expressed musically, for music must be pleasant, or it is not music.
On the other hand, music associates finely with poems that tend to inspire pleasant emotions: music for example in a chearful tone, is perfectly con-<140>cordant with every emotion in the same tone; and hence our taste for airs expressive of mirth and jollity. Sympathetic joy associates finely with chearful music;
