SOURCE: Dunn, Catherine M. “The Function of Music in Shakespeare's Romances.” Shakespeare Quarterly 20, no. 4 (autumn 1969): 391-405.

[In the following essay, Dunn analyzes the music of Pericles, Cymbeline, The Winter's Tale, and The Tempest in terms of the traditional philosophical concepts of musica mundana, musica humana, and musica instrumentalis.]

Critics have frequently commented on the importance Shakespeare gives to music in his plays, but they vary considerably in their approach to the problem. The earlier critics tend to assign a social cause, and stress the place of music in Renaissance society.¹ On the other hand, more modern critics see the music as a specifically dramatic device. There are numerous studies of this kind, ranging from Richmond Noble's discussion of the use of song for revealing character or furthering the plot² to Caroline Spurgeon's comments on the musical imagery.³ Some, like Edward J. Dent,⁴ describe the instruments Shakespeare must have required for certain scenes or effects, while John H. Long attempts to trace the actual music used or to suggest substitutes suitable for contemporary performance.⁵ But until quite recently there has been insufficient attention given to Shakespeare's relation to the complex musical ideology of his time.⁶ Because the Romances incorporate so much of this philosophy, a survey of some of the basic concepts is a necessary preface to any consideration of the plays themselves.

In the compendia of Renaissance thought, music played a vital role. As J. M. Nosworthy explains it, “The place of music in the Elizabethan scheme of things [was] … not simply as a diversion but as an act of faith, and as something no less essential to the overall pattern than the concepts of degree, the body politic, the elements and humours, and the like.”⁷ This cosmological view was based to a considerable extent on concepts derived from the Greek philosophers, notably Pythagoras and Plato, and later syncretized by Boethius and the Christian philosophers. Pythagoras was especially influential. As a result of his experiments in applying mathematical principles to music, he formulated the fundamental notion of perfect and imperfect consonance. To him also should be attributed the theory of the music of the spheres.

Closely related to these concepts was the tripartite division of music formulated by Boethius in the early sixth century, but accepted as canonical well into the sixteenth. According to his scheme, there were three branches of music: musica mundana, musica humana, and musica instrumentalis. By musica mundana Boethius meant the order and proportion of the heavens and the elements, both in their properties and in their movements—the “harmony of the universe”, as seen, for example, in the rhythm of the seasons and the music of the spheres. It is as part of this concept that the myths relating the power of music to control material objects and elemental forces first appeared. Thus Orpheus is fabled to have had such skill in song as to be able to animate lifeless objects and tame wild beasts; Amphion supposedly erected the walls and towers of Thebes from scattered stones which flew into place; and Arion was said to have calmed the sea and charmed a dolphin into carrying him on his back to safety.

By musica humana Boethius denoted the rapport existing between the parts of the body and the faculties of the soul, particularly the reason, a relationship which paralleled cosmic music in causing a blending of the body's elements. This concept gave rise to the notion of “temperament”, based on the effects of the harmonious or inharmonious “tuning” of the four humours, the three parts of the soul, or the soul and the body. Such a belief provided both public as well as private reasons for the importance given to the study of musica instrumentalis⁸ in the education of the Renaissance gentleman. For by imitating in the musica instrumentalis the ideal order of the musica mundana, man might again achieve the perfection of musica humana which had been impaired by the Fall. Thus music was the key to gaining a harmony among the contradictory aspects of the personality.

This led to important ethical and political implications, for, by extension of the thought, the state and society also would prosper only when the various elements were progressing in rhythmic concord, or, in the words of Bruce Pattison, “when the different interests in it danced to a common tune.”⁹ It is this attitude which underlies most of the discussion on music in the courtesy books.

There was one further theory about musica humana that generated considerable medical and psychological lore: the widespread belief in music's curative powers. This concept was derived ultimately from the Greek theory of ethos, which ascribed to each of the various modes a distinctive character capable of producing specific and unique emotional effects.¹⁰ Certain of these modes, often the lower pitched ones, were said to have therapeutic value. Thus Sir John Davies in Orchestra, or a Poeme of Dauncing (1596) addresses “sweet Musicke” as “the soft mind's Paradice, the sicke mind's leach”. But the most extensive Renaissance treatment of the subject was that of Robert Burton in The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621). Citing from classical and Biblical sources, Burton asserts that:

Musica est mentis medicina mœstæ … affecting … the very arteries, the vital and animal spirits; it erects the mind, and makes it nimble … This it will effect in the most dull, severe, and sorrowful souls, expel grief with mirth, and if there be any clouds, dust, or dregs of care yet lurking in our thoughts, most powerfully it wipes them all away. … [It] doth extenuate fears and furies, appeaseth cruelty, abateth heaviness. … In a word, it is so powerful a thing that it ravisheth the soul. … Scaliger … gives a reason for these effects, because the spirits about the heart take in that trembling and dancing air into the body, are moved together, and stirred up with it, or else the mind, as some suppose, harmonically composed, is roused up at the tunes of musick.

Later in the same section Burton mentions several Christian parallels:

Who hath not heard how David's harmony drove away the evil Spirits from King Saul, 1 Sam. 16; and Elisha, when he was much troubled by importunate Kings, called for a Minstrel, and, when he played, the hand of the Lord came upon him, 2 Kings 3.¹¹

This quotation also reflects the Renaissance practice of attempting to give Biblical justification to the classical theories. There were, of course, some in this era who rejected the entire notion of iatric music. But for the most part belief in music's fabled ability to manipulate human behavior formed an important aspect of music's role in the general cosmological scheme.

Shakespeare makes considerable use of music in the comedies and tragedies. Many of these references are to practical music and are quite conventional. In fact, music is frequently regarded just as a regular part of human activity. However a definite use of the principles of speculative music occurs in the comedies and tragedies. For example, in The Merchant of Venice, Lorenzo alludes to the music of the spheres:

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

(V. i. 60-65)

Elsewhere he describes the power of music over brute creation:

For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood.
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music.

(V. i. 71-79)

And in Richard II, the King is referring to the medical powers of musica humana when he says:

This music mads me, let it sound no more,
For though it have holp mad men to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.

(V. v. 61-63)

These are some of the more important allusions to speculative music; others appear also as relatively isolated examples.¹² However, in the Romances Shakespeare makes much more consistent use of the theoretical aspects. Pericles, Cymbeline, The Winter's Tale, and especially The Tempest reveal a world which operates largely according to Neoplatonic principles. This world is like a gigantic instrument upon which the gods play. When it is in tune, there is peace and harmony; when it is “dis-tempered”, or out of tune, there is discord and disorder. And the final transformation and reconciliation of the characters is frequently effected by music, just as it is usually paralleled or symbolized by changes in the physical universe and in the accompanying music.

In Pericles, apparently the first of the romances to be written, the references are chiefly to musica humana, although one celebrated instance of musica mundana does occur. The allusions to musica humana are of two types. The simpler ones are concerned with the notion of temperament, i.e. with the harmonious or inharmonious tuning of the bodily elements and humours to produce a certain character. The others deal with the power of music to achieve physical and psychological cures.

The first mention of “temperament” occurs at I. i. 81-85. Having resolved the riddle given him by Antiochus, Pericles says in an aside:

You are a fair viol and your sense the strings,
Who, fingered to make man his lawful music,
Would draw Heaven down and all the gods to hearken,
But being played upon before your time,
Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.

There is the obvious sexual pun. But in addition Pericles is saying that because of her unruly passions the daughter is “out of tune” or lacking in proper concord; as such she is comparable to disordered viol music. For the viol, and the string instruments generally, most often symbolized order and harmony; therefore a discordant viol—as a fair but incestuous daughter—is doubly to be condemned.

A second very brief example occurs later in the same scene. Antiochus remarks to Pericles:

Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree
As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise.

(114-115)

That is to say, hope changes his “temperament”; it achieves a different harmony and causes him to be merciful and generous. This attitude is only feigned by Antiochus, but the theoretical basis is not therefore denied.

In the same vein is the question of Lysimachus in V. i. 27: “Upon what ground is his [Pericles'] distemperature?” Such a question gives evidence of just how completely the Neo-Platonic theories of speculative music had permeated Elizabethan life, for Pericles' madness is spoken of in musical terms. The implication behind the question is that the madness results from a constitutional or psychological imbalance, and that therefore he may be said to be “dis-tempered”, or out of tune.

Based on a similar rationale are two quotations which refer to Marina. Gower states in the Chorus to Act IV that she has been trained in music and is the wonder of all (7-11). In Act V he adds that

She sings like one immortal, and she dances
As goddesslike to her admired lays.

(3-4)

However, since Marina has never “disordered” her soul, the study of music has helped to maintain the harmony of her being, her musica humana. Her ability as performer is just further proof that she is “in perfect tune” with the musica mundana, the ideal and ordered perfection of the universe.

There are several instances of music used for physical and psychical therapy. The first mention occurs in II. iii. 90-95. Simonides, noting that Pericles is moody and silent, calls on dancing as a remedy:

Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune,
And will awake him from his melancholy,
Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles,
Even in your armors, as you are addressed,
Will very well become a soldier's dance.

His dependence on dancing—and of course the inseparable music—is natural because he believes that dancing enables one to participate in the universal order of the musica mundana, and will therefore induce a corresponding order in the dancer. This is to effect a “cure”, since disharmony of being is illness, but harmony is health.

In his credence, Simonides—and Shakespeare—is echoing a very definite tradition. Sir John Davies had defended dancing in parallel arguments in Orchestra. And later Robert Burton was to attribute this power to music in general:

But to leave all declamatory speeches in praise of divine Musick, I will confine myself to my proper subject: besides that excellent power it hath to expel many other diseases, it is a sovereign remedy against Despair and Melancholy, and will drive away the Devil himself.¹³

So Simonides is simply relying on a proven method of curing Pericles of his “disharmony”. That he succeeds is only implied, though the audience would certainly have had no doubts.

Much more spectacular are the events in III. ii. Cerimon, a man noted as a scholar of the “secret art of physic” and by his own statement familiar with “the disturbances / That nature works, and of her cures” (37-38), calls for music to revive the supposedly dead Thaisa:

The rough and woeful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, beseech you.
The viol once more. How thou stirr'st, thou block!
The music there!

(88-91)

It is quite possible that Shakespeare was simply combining and expanding several current notions. For Renaissance thinkers made much of the correspondences between the systole and diastole of the human hearbeat and the alternation of upbeat and downbeat in musical rhythm. They were already convinced of music's therapeutic value, and they were also aware of the phenomenon of sympathetic vibration in two perfectly attuned strings. Therefore, a plausible Renaissance explanation for the “miracle” could argue that the “rough” music called for meant strongly rhythmic music, that its tempo approximated the pulse beat of Thaisa's heart, and that by means of sympathetic vibration her heart began to beat again. Thus the viol, the symbol of order and harmony, induced the order and harmony of life once more into Thaisa's being.¹⁴ The “fire and cloths” were necessary because Thaisa would have been in her winding sheet and would have been chilled from the ocean. But it seems clear that the chief restorative is the music.

It is important to note that Shakespeare relies heavily on speculative music at the climax of the play. Thus in addition to its basic function of adding a philosophical framework for the plot, music also serves as a dramatic device to intensify the climax of the action, and as a unifying device, since most of the major episodes leading to the climax are in some way concerned with Platonic musical theory.

Shakespeare also prepares for the climax with several instances of speculative music. Beginning in the first scene of Act V, Pericles is once again “distempered”. Lysimachus sends for Marina, that “with her sweet harmony” she may “make a battery through his deafened parts, / Which now are midway stopped” (45-48). When she arrives, he promises her:

If that thy prosperous and artificial feat
Can draw him but to answer thee in aught,
Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay
As thy desires can wish.

(72-75)

After this Marina sings. Since her soul has never been “disordered”, her music is in perfect harmony with the musica mundana. Thus her song is able to penetrate Pericles' trance-like state and to draw his attention.¹⁵ Having thus initiated his recovery with music, Marina continues her “cure” by speaking to him. That it was her “sacred physic” which was effective is attested to by Pericles in the lines:

                                                                                Oh, come hither,
Thou that begett'st him that did thee beget.

(196-197)

It is worth noting at this point that song was considered by the Greeks to be the most perfect form of music, since, according to Aristotle's De anima (420b-421a), it was rational music, i.e. music produced by a “sounding instrument with a soul”, and ordered by language. Consequently, it was the most potent therapy. This led the Renaissance theorists to strive to achieve the perfect union of the two arts that had supposedly been the attainment of Greece. Even as early as 1516 Sir Thomas More (Utopia, Book II) evaluates the quality of music according to this standard of music-text union. Speaking of the Utopians he says:

But in one thinge doubtles they goo exceding farre beyonde us. For all their musike bothe that they playe upon instrumentes, and that they singe with mannes voyce dothe so resemble and expresse naturall affections, the sound and tune is so applied and made agreable to the thing, that whether it bee a prayer, or els a dytty of gladnes, of patience, of trouble, of mournynge, or of anger; the fassion of the melodye dothe so represente the meaning of the thinge, that it dothe wonderfully move, stirre, pearce and enflame the hearers myndes.

And later, in the Preface to Psalmes, Sonets and Songs of Sadness and Pietie (1588), William Byrd states, “There is not any other Musicke of Instruments whatsoever comparable to that which is made of the voyces of Men. …”

At the actual dramatic climax it is interesting that Shakespeare presents the only example of musica mundana, almost as if by positioning it here he is suggesting a solution to Man's problems. Pericles has just been healed of his madness, for (to paraphrase a 1525 gloss to the Orpheus myth)¹⁶ “thys Marina by the swetnesse of her singing hath broght his soule into the rule of reson.” When his soul is in perfect tune with the universal order, and only then, Pericles hears the music of the spheres.

PER.:
                                                                                I embrace you.
Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.
O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music?
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him
O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt
How sure you are my daughter. But what music?
HEL.:
My lord, I hear none.
PER.:
None!
The music of the spheres! List, my Marina.
LYS.:
It is not good to cross him. Give him way.
PER.:
Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?
LYS.:
                                                            My lord, I hear. [Music.]
PER.:
Most heavenly music!
It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber
Hangs upon mine eyes. Let me rest.

(V. i. 223-236)

The line “I am wild in my beholding” could refer to Pericles' unkempt appearance, and most critics seem to regard it so. However, it could also indicate that Pericles is in a state of near-mystical rapture, which would be appropriate to his hearing the music of the spheres and to the vision of Diana which follows. This interpretation is not so far-fetched as it might at first seem. The Oxford English Dictionary lists as early variants for “beholding” the meanings, “images”, “spectre”, and “vision”. While the literary documentation is slight, this general meaning could possibly be applicable here—in fact, it would be quite appropriate, considering the presence of musica mundana and the succeeding vision of Diana. Nor is the notion of “visions” without parallel. Theseus in A Midsummer Night's Dream (V. i. 4-6) observes:

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.

The instances cited in the preceding discussion cannot be dismissed simply as convenient, conventional allusions or as sensational theatricality. They follow too specifically the Neoplatonic notions of music's nature and function: the idea of temperament in reference to the harmony of body and soul; Marina's perfect virtue symbolized in her musical skill; the power of music to cure sickness and madness or to raise the dead to life. By their very number these examples combine to provide an intrinsic philosophical basis for the action.

There are fewer references to music in Cymbeline, and of these one can be treated cursorily. For Belarius' “ingenious instrument” (IV. ii. 188), despite its intriguing curiousness, must be considered in the realm of musica instrumentalis as having the simple function of drawing attention to an important dramatic episode and highlighting its pathos. As such it is outside the concern of this discussion. However, the lovely song, “Hark, Hark, the Lark”, and the music of the aubade in II.iii are at least suggestive of the notion of musica humana, for Cloten hopes that they will “tune” Imogen to a more favorable aspect. He says:

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 penetrate her with your fingering, so. We'll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain, but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it; and then let her consider.

(12-20)

While Cloten himself seems to place little credence in the power of music to manipulate human emotions, he is nevertheless relying on someone else's belief. The “very excellent good-conceited thing”, because of its elaboration and probable lightness, would be expected to move Imogen to joyous spirits, while the “wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it” would aim at a dual influence—the text to appeal to her reason, the tune to her emotions. These ideas form the tradition behind the aubade. That the music fails in its purpose is undoubtedly due to Cloten's misdirected motives.

A possible passing reference to musica humana is found in IV.ii at line 48, when Aviragus comments of Fidele, “How angel-like he sings!” It will be remembered that Marina's singing also was compared to that of a supernatural being. Again the implication seems to be that the virtuous Imogen is in such harmony with the universe that she echoes the singing of the angelic intelligences which govern the spheres.

The solemn music accompanying the vision has several functions. As an instance of musica instrumentalis it provides a background for the dumb show that is the first part of the apparition and also emphasizes in the usual manner the supernatural element. But there is the further suggestion of musica mundana throughout the whole scene. Posthumus is overcome with guilt; his conscience is “fettered” and he beseeches the gods to give him “the penitent instrument to pick that bolt” (8-10). There is apparently a pun on “instrument”. In one sense, it refers to a tool or device, i.e. the grace of true penitence which will free his conscience. But it also suggests a musical instrument and by association the theories of music's powers to heal the disordered soul, in this case by inducing penitence. It is after this that the vision occurs. Posthumus, having become “penitent” enough to seek “penitence”, is now in a favorable state to commune with the supernatural, an idea symbolized by the solemn music.

Another hint of musica mundana occurs at the very end of the play. The various characters have come to wisdom through their sufferings and are at last reconciled. There is once again political, social, and personal order. At this point Philarmonus (meaning “lover of harmony”), the soothsayer, observes:

The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this place.

(V. v. 466-467)

What he is saying is basic Platonic doctrine: the world is but an instrument upon which the gods play. When it is in tune, there is “the harmony of this peace”.¹⁷

The Winter's Tale is unique among the romances in that all but two of the musical allusions are concentrated in two closely related scenes and all but one are instances of practical music. However, the lone example of musica humana at Hermione's “resurrection” in V.iii is given great emphasis because of its dramatic position as the climax of the play. In this respect it exactly parallels the other romances, thus emphasizing again a basic function of the music—to intensify both dramatically and philosophically the moments of highest tension. To ensure the effectiveness of this final scene, the disclosure in scene ii of Perdita's true identity and the subsequent reconciliation are only narrated. Then Paulina's long preparation skillfully builds up the feeling of suspense and magic until the actual transformation is signalled by the music:

PAUL.:
                                                                                                    Music, awake her, strike! [Music]
'Tis time, descend, be stone no more, approach.
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come,
I'll fill your grave up. Stir—nay, come away,
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs.

(98-103)

The use of music here could be considered also as a typical use of musica instrumentalis to underscore a dramatic climax. But it is, of course, as an example of music's restorative powers that it gains its chief importance. Just as Cerimon depended on music to revive Thaisa in Pericles, so Paulina calls for it to “awaken” Hermione.¹⁸ She relies on the credence of Leontes and the others who assume it is a statue and not a spectacular trick.¹⁹ Were this notion of music as cure not a firmly entrenched tenet of current Renaissance philosophy, this credence would not be possible.

Like Marina and Imogen, Perdita also can sing and dance superbly. However she is not specifically associated with the supernatural (i.e. angels and goddesses) as they were. Florizel rhapsodizes about her (IV.iv.135-146), but the viewpoint of the passage is that of a young lover finding perfection in his beloved. This tends to offset any possible suggestion of musica humana, that Perdita's ability in music is a reflection of her ordered soul. She is, of course, continually pictured as virtuous and fair, but the Platonic concept does not seem to underlie the characterization.²⁰

In The Tempest music is woven into the very fabric of the play. It contributes to the dramatic unity, to the setting and characterization, to the pageantry, and especially to the symbolism. In no other play does Shakespeare make it such a dominant element.

The obvious function of much of the music is practical, although there are often overtones of Neoplatonic theory.²¹ For instance, the snatch and the bawdy song of Stephano in II. ii are apparently rather typical examples of musica instrumentalis:

          [Enter Stephano, singing, a bottle in his hand]
STE.:
                                        “I shall no more to sea, to sea,
                              Here shall I die ashore—”
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral.
Well, here's my comfort.          [Drinks. Sings.]
          “The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
                    The gunner, and his mate,
          Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
                    But none of us cared for Kate.
                    For she had a tongue with a tang,
                    Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch.
                    Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang!”
This is a scurvy tune too, but here's my comfort.

(44-57)

Fulfilling a practical purpose, the music adds color and comedy to Stephano's entrance. But the words also reveal his gross nature, suggest a rowdy “disordered” type of tune, and prepare for the later disclosure that he is an element of disharmony on the island. This is also evidenced by Caliban's drunken “howl”, which even Trinculo recognizes to be the unmusical noise of a monster:

CAL.:
“Farewell, master, farewell, farewell!”
TRIN.:
A howling monster, a drunken monster!

(II. ii. 182-183)

Still more disordered is the attempt by the three to sing a catch, the simplest kind of part-song:

CAL.:
Thou makest me merry, I am full of pleasure.
                    Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch
                    You taught me but whilere?
STE.:
At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason.—
                    Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
[Sings.] “Flout 'em, and scout 'em,
                              And scout 'em and flout 'em.
                              Thought is free.”
CAL..
That's not the tune.
                    [Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.]
STE.:
What is this same?
TRIN.:
This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody.

(III. ii. 125-136)

Coupled with the practical function is an apparent hint at speculative music's theory of temperament. For as they cannot sing individually, so they cannot sing in concert. As there is chaos in their individual lives, there will be confusion and failure in their joint conspiracy to murder Prospero. The notion is implicit in the music, though at this point it is mainly a foreshadowing.²²

Functioning with more explicit overtones of Neoplatonic theory is the musica instrumentalis for the wedding masque in IV. i, which was evidently intended primarily as a compliment to the Princess Elizabeth and the Elector of the Palatinate. It was noted earlier that when the musica instrumentalis reflects the musica mundana, the harmony achieved partakes of the divine order of the universe. This idea might be operating here to make possible the appearance of the goddesses. If this is the case, when Prospero later tells Ferdinand and Miranda,

Hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marred. …

(126-127)

he is warning them that talking would produce a discordant note and destroy the harmony necessary for the vision.

The entrances of Iris, Ceres, and Juno are followed by the wedding hymn (“Honor, riches, marriage blessing”, 106-117). This song could probably be accounted simply as musica instrumentalis were it not that it, too, at least suggests echoes of musica mundana. For here Juno, the goddess of marriage, and Ceres, the goddess of fertile fields, join in harmony to bless Ferdinand and Miranda, whose lives are characterized by the harmony of love. Then the blessing is paralleled by a dance of Naiads, water nymphs who are guardian goddesses of marriage, and reapers, the mortal servants of Ceres. Their dance seems a kind of wedding of human and divine set to the rhythm of the seasons. The music thus symbolizes the perfect macrocosm-microcosm relationship so praised by Renaissance theorists.²³

Numerous references to musica humana occur throughout the play. Two of these are too brief for extended analysis, and so may be grouped together. In Act I, Prospero tells Miranda that Antonio “set all hearts i' the state / To what tune pleased his ear …” (I. ii. 84-85). This statement equates the state with an instrument which Antonio makes play at will, a common sixteenth-century image. As John Hollander states, “An intermediary stage between microcosm and macrocosm … was that of the body politic. The political aspects of musical speculation involved [the notion of] the State treated as a harmonious organism” (p. 47).

And secondly, in IV. i. 132-133, Iris commands:

Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love.

The nymphs are summoned to perform the dance because they are “in tune”, i.e. their souls and bodies are in harmony. This should be compared with the fact that Venus and Cupid are not invited, because they, being ruled by passion, would therefore bring discord to the scene.

The other references in the early acts are predominantly concerned with music's power to control human behavior. It is by this means that Ferdinand, having been separated from his father and comrades by Prospero's magic, is led to shore. Ariel, joined by various spirits, plays (probably a lute) and sings “Come unto these yellow sands” (I. ii. 376-386). After this Ferdinand expresses the ideas of musica humana quite specifically:

Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more, and, sure, it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the King my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air. Thence I have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.

(387-396)

Ariel continues to play,²⁴ calming Ferdinand's grief and bringing him to Miranda. There, enchanted by the music, he addresses Miranda as: “Most sure, the goddess / On whom these airs attend!” (421-422) The music affects Miranda as well, and is responsible for their falling so quickly in love.

A second episode of musical importance occurs in Act II, scene i. Again Ariel plays, but this time it is solemn music which brings sleep to everyone but Antonio and Sebastian. The scene raises the question: why does the music not affect Antonio and Sebastian? (“Why doth it not then our eyelids sink?” 200-201.) There is perhaps an answer. Gonzalo, the most “innocent” of the group is one of the first to succumb. Alonzo, guilty of serious sin but coming to repentence through suffering, responds last. But Antonio and Sebastian still are prone to evil. The disordered state of their souls makes them remain unmoved by the music. Later Ariel must return to waken the sleepers before the would-be murderers accomplish their plot (300-305). He sings in Gonzalo's ear, again probably because he is the most “innocent”, the most “harmonious temperament” of the group.

The strange banquet in Act III, scene iii, also provides examples of musica humana. After line 17 “solemn and strange music” is indicated. Alonzo asks, “What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!” To which Gonzalo adds, “Marvelous sweet music!” After “several strange Shapes” have brought in the banquet, Ariel appears like a harpy:

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny—
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in 't(25)—the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to belch up you. And on this island,
Where man doth not inhabit—you 'mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad. …

(53-58)

When Ariel finishes his rebuke, the Shapes re-enter to “soft music” and carry out the table. Prospero then comments on the results:

                                                                                          My high charms work,
And these mine enemies are all knit up
In their distractions. They are now in my power,
And in these fits I leave them while I visit
Young Ferdinand. …

(88-92)

This episode provides another instance of music's power to control human behavior. But it would seem to contradict the important belief that music is a remedy to disordered minds, for here music is used as a distraction not a remedy.²⁶ The most plausible solution is probably to be derived from the Greek notion of ethos. Just as certain modes were considered to be ennobling or relaxing, so others were conducive to wildness and irrationality.

The play's most dramatic presentation of speculative music occurs in Act V, again at the climax, as in the other Romances. When Prospero breaks the spell controlling his prisoners he is relying on musica humana:

                                                                                                    But this rough magic
I hereby abjure, and when I have required
Some heavenly music—which even now I do—
To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.                                        [Solemn music]
                    [Re-enter Ariel, then Alonzo, etc.]
A solemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now useless, boiled within thy skull!
… The charm dissolves apace,
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason. …
… Their understanding
Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now lies foul and muddy.

(50-60, 64-68, 79-82)

The quotation exemplifies fully the common theory of iatric music referred to, for example, in the citations from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, and observed in Pericles. Again it is a case of relying on harmonious or consonant music to induce order into the disordered mind, thus “tuning” it until the harmony of reason is achieved. The effect can be seen in Alonzo's recognition of his wrong.²⁷

Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs.

(118-119)

Musica mundana is felt as a presence during the entire play. Even Caliban is aware of it:

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again. And then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

(III. ii. 144-152)

Despite criticism to the contrary, it is perfectly natural for even a “brutish monster” like Caliban to feel the music's force. For part of the Neoplatonic tradition of musica mundana dealt with such as the Orpheus, Amphion,²⁸ and Arion myths, in which various creatures and inanimate objects were charmed by music.

That the musica mundana was sometimes heard as the sound of a tempest is suggested by two different remarks. In Act II Trinculo says:

Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing, I hear it sing i' the wind.

(II. ii. 19-20)

A fuller statement is made by Alonzo in Act III:

                                                                                Oh it is monstrous, monstrous!
Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it,
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper. It did bass my trespass.

(ii. 95-99)

It was earlier explained that the Renaissance concept of musica mundana meant the harmony of the universe, including of course such notions as the music of the spheres and the rhythm of the seasons. Taking this into account, it seems plausible to consider the storm as “disordered” musica mundana, symbolic of the evil deeds and intentions—the disharmony—of Alonzo, Antonio, and Sebastian, as well as of Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban. This would interpret the play metaphorically, then, as one long concert, with Prospero as the director, in which the discordant elements of nature are gradually resolved into concord, reflecting and causing the transformation of all the conspirators from disharmony to the harmony of love and reason.²⁹

The Tempest, then, marks the climax of Shakespeare's use of speculative music. However there was not a steady development through the Romances. For, despite the criticism of J. M. Nosworthy (p. 66) that Pericles is “retrogressive in the sense that such music as [it] contain[s] is a separable element whose total omission would make little or no essential difference”, the play makes consistent and specific use of philosophical concepts of music.

This is not true of Cymbeline, for the references are neither so numerous nor so definite. Music is ultimately woven into the play at the conclusion as a symbol of reconciliation, both human and divine, since the Platonic image of the world as an instrument played by the gods appears then. But proportionately more attention is directed to the more traditional pastoral elements.

The music in The Winter's Tale, as in Cymbeline, is organic, but predominantly in the realm of practical music rather than theoretical. To try to account for the music in the last two acts, except for Hermione's resurrection, as a symbol of the restoration and reconciliation which is soon to take place, is to read philosophy where there is none.

And finally, once again The Tempest must be characterized as the culmination of Shakespeare's musical philosophy. In incorporating the Neoplatonic doctrine of the divine order of the universe, a doctrine consistently expressed as a musical analogy, he is only following a deeply rooted Renaissance tradition. And in presenting a picture of music and dance shaping chaos into love and harmony, he is only expressing man's eternal dream of a “brave new world.”

Notes

1. The best of these is Edward W. Naylor, Shakespeare and Music (London, 1896).

2. Shakespeare's Use of Song (Oxford University Press, 1923).

3. Shakespeare's Imagery and What It Tells Us (Cambridge University Press, 1935).

4. “Shakespeare and Music”, in A Companion to Shakespeare Studies, ed. Harley Granville-Barker and G. B. Harrison (New York, 1960).

5. Shakespeare's Use of Music. 2 vols. (University of Florida Press, 1955, 1961).

6. F. W. Sternfeld's Music in Shakespearean Tragedy (New York, 1963) treats of several aspects of speculative music, along with a full discussion of music's integral part in the dramatic structure.

7. “Music and Its Function in the Romances of Shakespeare”, Shakespeare Survey II (1958), p. 60.

8. A general term including all the “practical” aspects of music as opposed to the “speculative”, whether they refer to singer, instrumentalist, or composer.

9. Music and Poetry of the English Renaissance (London, 1948), p. 1.

10. For example, the manly Dorian mode is conductive to sober reason, good government, stability of soul, and chastity. The Phrygian leads to religious and poetic enthusiasm, but is also dangerous as it sometimes arouses the passions. Plato considered the Lydian mode voluptuous and sensual, and therefore enervating (Republic, III. 398-404). In fact, Plato attached such importance to this notion that he linked it with the future welfare of the country, and sincerely believed that by changing a mode the very foundations of the state might be undermined. This point is discussed by Bruno Meinecke in “Music and Medicine in Classical Antiquity”, Music and Medicine, ed. Dorothy M. Schullian and Max Schoen (New York, 1948).

11. Part 2, Sect. 2, Memb. 6, Subs. 3.

12. See Sternfeld, especially Chapters IV, VIII, and IX.

13. The Anatomy of Melancholy, Part 2, Sect. 2, Memb. 6, Subs. 3.

14. Sternfeld would emend “rough” to “still” by analogy with a parallel passage in George Wilkins' Pericles, on the grounds that “rough” makes no sense. It seems better to account for “rough” by some explanation such as that tentatively suggested.

15. Sternfeld states: “In his mature plays Shakespeare uses song in two forms: songs to express the character of the singer or the dramatic situation; and songs to influence the disposition, that is, magic songs” (p. 79). In Marina's song these functions seem to be interwoven.

16. “Thys Orpheus by the swetnesse of hys harpe / that ys to say bestly men and savage broght into the rule of reson.” Quoted in John Hollander, The Untuning of the Sky (Princeton University Press, 1961), pp. 168-169.

17. As Sternfeld points out, “Whether the poets praise a Christian Saint or a pagan god, divine order and its reflection in human order are at all times associated with tuning …” (p. 236). For a more extensive discussion see John Hollander.

18. Again as in Pericles the music called for was probably a consort of viols, since the command “strike” was usually associated with stringed instruments.

19. Paulina is careful to forestall possible charges of black magic: “… those that think it is unlawful business / I am about, let them depart” (96-97).

20. All the remaining examples of music occurring in Act IV, scenes iii and iv, provide a brief but jolly sampling of the informal music of the period, but there are no philosophical implications involved. The usual conclusion that Shakespeare withheld music until this point to effect the change from tragic to comic is perhaps correct, although this is not the procedure in the other romances. John Long (pp. 74-78) claims that the songs and dances determine Polixenes' attitude toward Perdita in the rest of the scene. Regarding her first as a pretty “low borne lass”, too noble for the country, he comes, under the influence of the dance of the lustful satyrs, to look upon her as a conniving seductress exerting her witchcraft upon poor Florizel. Such an interpretation would make this music somewhat akin to musica humana in its negative light. The Elizabethans also believed that discordant music could likewise influence human behavior, but for ill, by disturbing the body's harmony. However, this theory does not seem to apply in this case. Polixenes speaks to Florizel immediately after without any condemnation of Perdita. In fact, it isn't until Florizel begins to discuss his father that Polixenes becomes really angry, and even then he does not refer to Perdita as carnal.

21. Probably the closest to a pure example of musica instrumentalis is Ariel's song, “Where the bee sucks” (V. i. 88-94). This charming lyric is for sheer delight, although it is also autobiographical and helps to fill the interval during which Prospero dons his Milanese clothing.

22. When Ariel leads the three away (158-160, and further described at IV. i. 175-184), it becomes an example of musica humana.

23. It is interesting to note that the vision vanishes “to a strange, hollow, and confused noise.” In Renaissance terminology, the word “noise” often signified either low tavern music, or music poorly played. Thus it would most likely be both out of tune and out of rhythm. This kind of discord may be what is meant here, as it mirrors Prospero's “distempered”—i.e. out of tune—state of mind that causes him to dismiss the spirits.

24. While the lute is not specifically mentioned, it would have been the normal instrument to accompany airs such as the two Ariel sings. As a string instrument it would be symbolic of order and harmony, and so would be suited to the function suggested for the music.

25. This image is actually musica mundana: the world is an instrument upon which Destiny (Providence) plays.

26. Shakespeare had used a somewhat similar situation in Richard II, V. v. 41-44, 61-63.

27. The music seems not to have reformed Antonio and Sebastian. Perhaps Shakespeare is recognizing and tacitly accepting that some evil in the world is not susceptible of amelioration. It exists and probably always will. A “brave new world” will keep it under as much control as possible, but it cannot be obliterated from the human condition.

28. A reference to this myth occurs in the play at II. i. 86-88.

29. This differs from the earlier Romances, in which music reflected the transformation and reconciliation, but did not cause it. The only partial exception is Pericles, since Marina's music produced the initial impetus for the conclusion, and therefore was a kind of cause.