Shakespeare and Music/Serenades and 'Music'

by Edward Woodall Naylor

IV

Serenades and 'Music'

The history of Serenades is as ancient as that of Songs. In the middle of the T5th century, Sebastian Brant, a lawyer, wrote in Dutch his 'Stultifera Navis,' or 'Ship of Fools,' a severe satire on things in general, and popular amusements in particular. The book was afterwards translated into Latin, and thence into English. Here are some of the verses that treat of Serenades in the year 1450.

'The furies fearful, sprong of the floudes of hell,
Bereft these vagabonds in their minds, so
That by no meane can they abide ne dwell
Within their houses, but out they nede must go;
More wildly wandring then either bucke or doe.
Some with their harpes, another with their lute,
Another with his bagpipe, or a foolishe flute.

'Then measure they their songes of melody
Before the doores of their lemman deare;
Howling with their foolishe songe and cry,
So that their lemman may their great folly heare:

'But yet moreover these fooles are so unwise,
That in cold winter they use the same madness.
When all the houses are lade with snowe and yse,
O madmen amased, unstable, and witless!
What pleasure take you in this your foolishness?
What joy have ye to wander thus by night,
Save that ill doers alway hate the light?'

Another verse explains that not only the foolish young men of low birth were given to this practice, but also—

⁠'States themselves therein abuse,'

'With some yonge fooles of the spiritualtie:
The foolish pipe without all gravitie
Doth eche degree call to his frantic game:
The darkness of night expelleth feare of shame.'

Brant had no great opinion of the music provided either. He describes their singing before their lady's window—

'One barketh, another bleateth like a shepe;
Some rore, some counter, some their ballads fayne:
Another from singing geveth himself to wepe;
When his soveraigne lady hath of him disdayne.'

Finally—a Parthian shot—

'Standing in corners like as it were a spye,
Whether that the wether be whot, colde, wet, or dry.'

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. 3/2, 82.

Proteus

(advises Thurio) 'Visit by night your lady's chamber window With some sweet concert: to their instruments Tune a deploring dump:'

Thu.	And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently, To sort some gentlemen well skilled in music.

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. 4/2, 16.

Proteus.

… 'Now must we to her window, And give some evening music to her ear.'

L. 24.

Thu.	… Now, gentlemen, Let's tune.

L. 28.

Host	(to Julia, in boy's clothes). I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul.	But shall I hear him speak?

Host.

Ay, that you shall.

Jul.	That will be music.

L. 54.

Host.

How do you, man? (i.e., Julia) the music likes you not.

Jul.	You mistake: the musician (i.e., Proteus) likes me not.

Host.

Why, my pretty youth?

Jul.	He plays false, father.

Host.

How? out of tune on the strings?

Jul.	Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Host.

You have a quick ear.

Jul.	Ay; I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host.

I perceive, you delight not in music.

Jul.	Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host.

Hark! what fine change is in the music.

Jul.	Ay, that change (Proteus' unfaithfulness) is the spite.

Host	(misunderstanding again). You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul.	I would always have one (Proteus) play but one thing.

L. 85.

Silvia

(from window). 'I thank you for your music, gentlemen.'

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 2/3, 11. Cloten serenades Imogen.

Cloten.

I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate. Enter Musicians. Come on: tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: … First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,—and then let her consider. [The musicians perform 'Hark! hark! the lark.'] So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse -hairs, and calves'-guts, … can never amend.

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 2/5, 24. Pericles, a musician [his education had been 'in arts and arms,' see 2/3, 82].

Per.	All fortune to the good Simonides!

Sim.	To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you For your sweet music this last night: I do Protest, my ears were never better fed With such delightful pleasing harmony.

Per.	It is your grace's pleasure to commend, Not my desert.

Sim.	⁠Sir, you are music's master.

Per.	The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

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 4/1, 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 3/1. Cassio brings musicians to salute Othello.

Cass.

Masters, play here; I will content your pains: Something that's brief; and bid "Good morrow, general." ⁠[Music.]

Enter Clown.

Clo.	Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus?

1 Mus.

How, sir, how?

Clo.	Are these, I pray you, called wind-instruments?

1 Mus.

Ay, marry, are they, sir.

⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*⁠*

Clo.	… masters, here's money for you; and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it.

1 Mus.

Well, sir, we will not.

Clo.	If you have any music that may not be heard, to 't again; but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.

1 Mus.

We have none such, sir.

Clo.	Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go; vanish into air, away!

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 3/1, 19.

Pandarus.

What music is this?

Servant.

I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.

Pandarus.

Know you the musicians?

Serv.

Wholly, sir.

Pan.	Who play they to?

Serv.

To the hearers, sir.

Pan.	At whose pleasure, friend?

Serv.

At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. ⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•

L. 52.

Pan.	Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Paris.

You have broke it, cousin; and, by my life, you shall make it whole again: you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. [To Helen] Nell, he [Pandarus] is full of harmony. ⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•

L. 95.

Pan.	… Come, give me an instrument. [And at Helen's request, Pandarus sings, 'Love, love, nothing but love.']

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. 2/4, 10.

1 Drawer.

Why then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tear- sheet would fain have some music. (After supper, in a cooler room.)

Id. l. 227.

Page.

The music is come, sir.

Falstaff.

Let them play.—— Play, sirs.

Id. l. 380.

Fal.	Pay the musicians, sirrah.

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. 4/4, 133. K. Hen. on his sick-bed.

K. Hen.

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my wearied spirit.

Warwick.

Call for the music in the other room.

Pericles 3/2, 87. Cerimon's house at Ephesus. Thaisa, cast up by the sea, is brought to life by his directions.

Cerimon.

Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths. The rough and woful music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you. The vial once more;—how thou stirr'st, thou block!—The music there! I pray you, give her air.

Tempest 5/1, 51. Prospero employs music to disenchant Alonso, Antonio, etc.

Pro.	… and, when I have required Some heavenly music (which even now I do), To work mine end upon their senses, …

L. 58.

A solemn air; and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains.

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 1/1.

Duke.

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.— That strain again! it had a dying fall: O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.—Enough! no more: 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.

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 4/3, 256. Brutus and his servant Lucius.

Bru.	Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Luc.	Ay, my lord, an't please you.

Bru.	⁠It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. ⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠•⁠• ⁠[Boy sings to lute.]

Bru.

This is a sleepy tune: [Boy drops off]—O murderous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music?—Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument: I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.— ⁠[Ghost of Cæsar appears.]

L. 290.

Bru.	Boy!—Lucius!—Varro! Claudius! sirs, awake!—Claudius!

Luc.	[asleep]. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru.	He thinks he still is at his instrument.

In Henry VIII. 3/1 is a case of the same kind.

Queen Catherine.

Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles: Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst. Leave working. ⁠[Song. 'Orpheus.']

The next passage brings us to another class of music—viz., dirges, funeral songs, or 'good-nights.' [See H. 4. B. 3/2, 322]. In Cymbeline 4/2, 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. 4/4, 21.

Capulet.

… "Good faith! 'tis day: The county [Count Paris] will be here with music straight."

Sc. v. 84.

Cap.	All things, that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments to melancholy bells; Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change.

In close connection with these funeral songs is the passage in Hen. VIII. 4/2, 77, where Queen Katherine, sick, requests her gentleman-usher to get the musicians to play a favourite piece of this class—

⁠… Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to. [She sleeps, then, waking from the vision—] ⁠… Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me.

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

There is an old song, given in Chappel'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:—

'Tole on thou passing bell
Ringe out my dolefull knell
Let thy sound my death tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedye.'

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—

'Defiléd is my name full sore,
Through cruel spite and false report.'

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.