Music—Muscular and Mechanical.
One cheerful evidence of the decivilization of
the Anglo-Saxon race is the late tendency to return
to first principles in art, as manifested in substituting
noise for music. Herein we detect symptoms
of a rapid relapse into original barbarism. The
savage who beats his gong or kettledrum until his
face is of a delicate blue, and his eyes assert themselves
like those of an unterrified snail, believes
that musical skill is a mere question of brawn—a
matter of muscle. If not wholly ignorant of
technical gymnastics, he has a theory that a deftness
at dumb-bells is a prime requisite in a finished
artist. The advance—in a circle—of civilization
has only partially unsettled this belief in the human
mind, and we are constantly though unconsciously
reverting to it.
It is true the modern demand for a great
deal of music has outstripped the supply of
muscle for its production; but the ingenuity of man
has partially made up for his lack of physical
strength, and the sublimer harmonies may still be
rendered with tolerable effectiveness, and with little
actual fatigue to the artist. As we retrograde
towards the condition of Primeval Man—the man
with the gong and kettledrum—the blacksmith
slowly reasserts his place as the interpreter of the
maestro.
But there is a limit beyond which muscle,
whether that of the arm or cheek, can no
further go, without too great an expenditure of
force in proportion to the volume of noise attainable.
And right here the splendid triumphs of
modern invention and discovery are made manifest;
electricity and gunpowder come to the relief of puny
muscle, simple appliance, and orchestras limited by
sparse population. Batteries of artillery thunder
exultingly our victory over Primeval Man, beaten
at his own game—signally routed and put to shame,
pounding his impotent gong and punishing his
ridiculous kettledrum in frantic silence, amidst
the clash and clang and roar of modern art.
