From an early period there have been monarchs possessed of as much skill in music as their best bards, or minstrels. Thus, as it has been observed, if Alfred the Great could enter and explore the Danish camp disguised as a harper, “his harp playing must have been in the genuine professional manner of his time, otherwise he would have revealed to the Danish lovers of music that he was not what he pretended to be.” Indeed, the harp seems to have been a favourite instrument of our sovereigns in olden times, harpers having been famous long before the Conquest. And it may be noted that even many of those monarchs who were not musicians patronised and encouraged music, as may be gathered from items of expenditure in their household accounts, an instance of which occurs as far back as the time of William of Normandy, who is recorded in Domesday Book to have been liberal to his joculator, or bard.
Matilda of Scotland had a great talent for music, for which her love amounted almost to a passion. And when queen she was not infrequently censured for her lavish liberality in rewarding, with costly presents, the monks who sang skilfully in the{377} church service. According to William of Malmesbury, “She was thoughtlessly prodigal towards clerks of melodious voice, both in gifts and promises. Her generosity becoming universally known, crowds of scholars, equally famed for poetry and music, came over, and happy did he account himself who could soothe the ear of the Queen by the novelty of his song.”
Specially skilled in music was Eleanor of Aquitaine, who composed and sang the chansons and tensons of Proven?al poetry; and Richard I. was musically inclined, the place of his confinement in Germany, on his return from the Holy Land, having been discovered, it is commonly said, by his minstrel Blondel singing beneath the Tower Tenebreuse a tenson which they had jointly composed, and to which the King replied. Henry III., in the twenty-sixth year of his reign, gave forty shillings and a pipe of wine to Richard, his harper, and a pipe of wine to Beatrice, the harper’s wife—in such estimation were these musicians held by him.
Edward I. and his queen Marguerite were both lovers of music, and encouraged its professors, as may be gathered from the following items of their household expenditure: “To Melioro, the harper of Sir John Mautravers, for playing on the harp while the King was bled, twenty shillings; likewise to Walter Luvel, the harper of Chichester, whom the King found playing on his harp before the tomb of St. Richard at Chichester Cathedral, six shillings and eightpence.” And prior to ascending the throne Edward took his harper with him to{378} the Holy Land, and, when attacked by an assassin at Ptolemais, his royal musician rushed into the royal apartment, and dashed out the brains of his antagonist after the Prince had given the final blow with a footstool, which caused him to exclaim, “What was the use of striking a dead man?”
Henry V. was himself a performer on the harp from an early age; his royal bride, Catherine of Valois, sharing his taste, as we find from an entry in the Issue Rolls, whereby we learn that his Majesty sent from France to England to obtain new harps for Catherine and himself in the October preceding his marriage: “By the hands of William Menston was paid ￡8, 13s. 4d. for two new harps purchased for King Henry and Queen Catherine.” And a previous document mentions another harp sent to Henry when in France, “purchased of John Bore, harp-maker, London, together with several dozen harp-chords and a harp-case.” Henry was also a composer, delighting in church harmony, which he was in the habit of practising on the organ.
Anne Boleyn, like Henry VIII., was musical, and, according to an early authority, “when she sung like a second Orpheus, she would have made bears and wolves attentive. Besides singing like a syren, accompanying herself on the lute, she harped better than King David, and handled cleverly both flute and rebec.” From all accounts, Queen Mary seems to have been highly talented in music, and at the tender age of four she is said to have played on the virginals. When grown up she cultivated her musical taste, and played with great pro{379}ficiency on the lute, the virginals, or the regals. She was also fond of sacred music, and established the musicians of her Chapel Royal with more than usual care, the names of our best English composers being found amongst them.
Queen Elizabeth was very partial to music, and played on the spinet, lute, and violin, and she was especially careful to have the royal chapel furnished with the best singing boys that could be procured in the kingdom. In Sir Hans Sloane’s collection of MSS. in the British Museum, there is a royal warrant of her Majesty authorising Thomas Gytes, master of the children of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, “to take up such apt and meet children as are most fit to be instructed, and framed, in the art and science of music and singing, as may be had and found out within any place of this our realm of England and Wales, to be, by his education and bringing up, made meet and liable to serve us in that behalf when our pleasure is to call them.”
Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I., had a taste for music, and was possessed of a voice so sweet and powerful, that, it is said, she might have been, had she not been a queen, prima donna of Europe. Occasionally, we are told, “her divine voice was heard singing to her infant as she lulled it in her arms, filling the magnificent galleries of Whitehall with its rich cadence. Queenly etiquette prevented her from enchanting listeners with its melody at other times.”[160] Charles I., too, was fond of music, and performed on the viol.{380}
The first Italian opera ever performed in England was produced on January 5, 1674, under the auspices of Queen Catherine of Braganza, who was devoted to that style of music, although it took a long time for an English audience to relish it. And “it was not easy,” writes Agnes Strickland, “to persuade the public in those days that a combination of incomprehensible sounds, however harmonious they might be, was capable of exciting feelings of admiration and delight like those with which they listened to the national opera of Arthur, when Dryden’s numbers are wedded to Purcell’s melodies.” The King’s admiration for Mrs. Knight, whose voice was considered by Evelyn and others to excel those of the Queen’s Italian vocalists, excited Catherine’s jealousy, especially as her singing was regarded “as a greater attraction than the wonderful violin playing of Signor Nicolao at musical meetings, where, also, the lute of Dr. Wallgrave rivalled the harpsichord of Signor Francesco.” But, it may be added, Mrs. Knight was first introduced at Court to sing Waller’s complimentary verses on her Majesty’s recovery from serious sickness, in the year 1663. Pepys tells us in his Diary,[161] under September 30, 1668, that the Queen had a concert of Italian vocalists on the Thames, under her balcony at Whitehall Palace, when, “it being a most summerlike day, and a fine warm evening, the Italians came in a barge under the leads before the Queen’s drawing-room, and so the Queen and{381} ladies went out, and heard them for more than an hour, and the singing was very good together; but yet there was but one voice that did appear considerable, and that was Signor Joanni.”
According to Roger North, Charles II. loved no music but of the dancing kind, and put down all advocates for the fugal style of composition, with the question, “Have I not ears?” A band of twenty-four violins who merrily accompanied his meals, and enlivened his devotions in the Chapel Royal, suggested the comic song, “Four and twenty fiddlers all of a row,” which has lasted to the present day. Evelyn was greatly shocked when in December 1662, at the conclusion of the sermon, “instead of the ancient grave and solemn wind music accompanying the organ, was introduced a concert of twenty-four violins, between every pause, after the French fantastical light style; better suiting a tavern, or playhouse, than a church.” It would seem, too, the King’s predilection for French fiddlers formed part of his anti-national tendency, and was carried so far that John Banister, who had been leader of the twenty-four, was dismissed for saying, on his return from Paris, that the English violins were better than the French. These anti-national propensities of Charles II. brought into fashion that kind of music which had constantly been appreciated by the masses—the music of the old ballads and songs. The dislike of all compositions to which he could not beat time led him to appreciate the common English airs, to which the poets of the{382} people had written their words, as well as the dance music imported from France.[162]
To church music George III. was always very attached, showing skill in it both as a critic and performer. “Many stories,” says Thackeray,[163] “mirthful and affecting, are told of his behaviour at the concerts which he ordered. When he was blind and ill he chose the music for the Ancient Concerts once, and the music and words which he selected were from ‘Samson Agonistes,’ and all had reference to his blindness, his captivity, and his affliction. He would beat time with his music-roll as they sang the anthem in the Chapel Royal. If the page below was talkative, or inattentive, down would come the music-roll on young Scapegrace’s powdered head.” It would seem that his Majesty was not content simply to be a listener, but he found additional pleasure in taking an active part in musical performances. And one day in the year when George loved to attend St. Paul’s was on “Charity Children’s Day,” to listen to “500 children sing the hymn which makes every heart thrill with praise and happiness.”
George IV. was fond of music, a taste which, we are told in the “Croker Papers,” seems not always to have been agreeable to some of the ladies who had the greatest influence over him. He would occasionally leave them to bouder in a corner, while he sang duets and glees with the{383} two pretty Misses Liddell—Lord Ravensworth’s sisters—old Michael Kelly, Knyvett, and others. Thus, one evening at the Pavilion, in the year 1822, the King “never left the pianoforte; he sang in ‘Glorious Apollo,’ ‘Mighty Conqueror,’ ‘Lord Mornington’s Waterfall’ (encored), ‘Non Nobis, Domine,’ and several other glees and catches.” His voice, a bass, according to Croker, was not good, and he did not sing so much from the notes as from recollection. He was, therefore, “as a musician far from good, but he gave, I think, the force, gaiety, and spirit of the glees in a superior style to the professional men.”[164]
Music was a source of supreme delight to the Prince Consort, and in musical compositions he acquired considerable technical skill. His favourite instrument was the organ. On the 9th of October, 1840, Lady Lyttelton writes from Windsor Castle: “Yesterday evening, as I was sitting here comfortably after the drive, by candlelight, reading M. Guizot, suddenly there arose from the room beneath, oh, such sounds!... It was Prince Albert playing on the organ, modulating so learnedly, wandering through every kind of bass and chord till he wound up in the most perfect cadence, and then off again louder and louder. I ventured at dinner to ask him what I had heard. “Oh, my organ! a new posses{384}sion of mine. I am so fond of the organ! It is the first of instruments, the only instrument for expressing one’s feelings.”[165]
All forms of music competently rendered, it is said, had a fascination for Queen Victoria, a taste which from childhood she encouraged, and to which she devoted much attention. John Bernard Sale, organist of St. Margaret’s, Westminster, and subsequently organist of the Chapel Royal, gave her her first lessons in singing in 1826,[166] and “she developed a sweet soprano voice, and soon both sang and played the piano with good effect.” In 1836 Lablache became her singing-master, and he gave her lessons for nearly twenty years. The harp was her instrument, and Grisi was her ideal vocalist.
The Italian opera raised her highest enthusiasm, and, “staunch to the heroes of her youth, she always appreciated the operas of Rossini, Bellini, and Donizetti, but Handel and Mendelssohn won her early admiration.” She never understood or approved Wagner or his school.
At one time elaborate concerts, oratorios, and musical recitations were repeatedly given both at Windsor and Buckingham Palace. On the 10th of February 1846, Charles Kemble read the words of the “Antigone,” when Mendelssohn’s music was rendered, and this was followed by similar performances—Mendelssohn being many times at Court.
Many accounts have come down to us of the{385} talent of James I. of Scotland for music, who is said to have “excelled all mankind in the art, both vocal and instrumental.” He has been spoken of as the father of Scottish music, and we are told that “he not only composed many sacred pieces of vocal music, but also of himself invented a new kind of music, plaintive and melancholy, different from all others, which, it is said, long made his name famous.”
Turning to France, we find that many of its rulers were musically inclined. Going back to an early period, it is said that Charlemagne invited singers and musicians to come from Italy and improve the performance of divine worship,............