Shakespeare and music

In Short

This book serves as a scholarly guide to the musical environment of late 16th- and early 17th-century England, specifically as reflected in the plays of William Shakespeare. It maps the technical language of music, the role of education, the common instruments of the period—from lutes to recorders—and the social function of dances and songs. By grounding Shakespeare’s metaphors and stage directions in historical context, the text recovers the everyday musical world that informed the poet’s work, acting as a bridge between literary analysis and music history.

The Story

The inquiry begins with a look at the status of music as a cornerstone of a "liberal education" in Shakespeare’s day. It establishes that music was not merely a decorative art but a rigorous pursuit for gentlemen and royalty alike, noting that figures like Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth were accomplished performers. This sets the stage for understanding why music is so woven into the fabric of the plays; for the Elizabethan audience, references to "descant," "diapason," or "divisions" were not obscure jargon but familiar elements of their own domestic and social lives.

As the argument progresses, the focus shifts to the specific sounds that filled the theater and the tavern. The author explains how instrumental music, such as the use of "hautboys" for royal processions or the "vile squeaking" of the fife, provided crucial narrative cues. The narrative also delves into the technical nature of the "catch" or "round," explaining how these communal songs functioned as both social entertainment and complex musical puzzles. Characters like Sir Toby Belch and the clowns are not just singing for color; they are engaging in a specific cultural practice where melody and rhythm were shared, public property.

The discussion moves toward the physical act of music-making, detailing the construction and decline of instruments. The transition from the "chest of viols"—the preferred domestic sound—to the rise of the violin family under French influence is presented as a reflection of changing social tastes. The author illustrates this by analyzing how characters like Sir Andrew Aguecheek are defined by their musical capabilities, and how the "viol da gamba" became a marker of status.

Finally, the book examines the dances of the period, from the slow, mournful "dump" to the lively "canaries" and "brawls." By analyzing these movements, the author demonstrates how Shakespeare used the vocabulary of the ballroom to heighten the emotional stakes of his scenes. The study concludes by connecting the music of the past to the broader philosophical and social questions of the age, such as the "concord of discord" that defined Elizabethan sensibilities. By the end, the reader sees Shakespeare not as an isolated genius, but as a man whose work was inextricably tied to the "silver sound" of his time—a world where every character, from kings to tavern-dwellers, lived their lives in time to the music.

How It Unfolds

The musical foundation The study opens by establishing the high value placed on musical literacy among the elite. It details the training of royalty and the expectation that a "good bringing up" included proficiency in instruments and voice.

The vocabulary of sound The text proceeds to decode the technical terminology that riddles the plays. It explains musical concepts like "divisions," "burden," and "diapason," showing how Shakespeare used these as both literal descriptions and poetic metaphors.

Instruments and their social standing A middle section catalogues the tools of the trade, from the soft recorder to the loud, military fife. It tracks the shifting popularity of instruments, such as the decline of the viols in favor of the violin, mirroring broader societal changes.

Songs, catches, and taverns The narrative moves to the communal music found in the inns and theaters. It breaks down the structure of the "catch" and provides context for the popular ballads and tavern tunes that characters sing to establish their social standing or state of mind.

Dance as drama The final movement analyzes the choreography of the era. It explains how specific dances like the Pavan or the Hay were used on stage to convey gravity, joy, or social chaos, grounding these performances in the practical reality of 16th-century life.

The People

The book is less about individual characters and more about the collective "musical person" of the Elizabethan era. First, the Gentleman Musician emerges as a central figure, representing the ideal of a person whose education is incomplete without the ability to play the lute or read music at sight. This figure faces the challenge of maintaining "gravity and state" amidst changing fashions.

Opposing this ideal is the Common Musician, often seen in the theater as a "pestilent knave" or itinerant performer. These individuals, such as the musicians in Romeo and Juliet or the "Sneak's noise" at the Boar’s Head, are the providers of music for the masses. They represent the practical, often grimy reality of music-making, where the incentive is often "silver sound"—earning a living through performance.

Finally, the Shakespearean Character acts as an intermediary. Figures like Sir Toby Belch or Autolycus use music to define their identity, whether through the rowdy catch or the melancholic ballad. They are the vehicles through which the author shows that, in this world, one’s relationship to music is a primary indicator of one's character, wit, and social status.

In Its Own Voice

"The language I have learn'd these forty years, My native English, now I must forego; And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol, or a harp."

This passage from Richard II is used to illustrate how the instrument was considered a standard metaphor for the human voice and personality.

"A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow."

This quote from Henry VIII serves to document the changing tastes of the English court as they began to adopt French fashions in the 17th century.

What It's Really About

The book explores the thesis that music was the fundamental atmospheric and structural language of the Elizabethan world. It argues that Shakespeare’s metaphors were not merely literary inventions but were rooted in the specific, technical musical practices of his time. The underlying question is how a society, deeply invested in the "concord of discord," translated the physical experience of sound into the emotional and social architecture of its drama. It asks us to consider how our understanding of a play changes when we recognize the specific musical cues that an original audience would have instinctively understood. Ultimately, it is an argument for the necessity of historical context in appreciating the depth of the poet's engagement with his environment.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a background in music history or an intense interest in Elizabethan drama will find this book an essential reference. It offers a rare, granular look at the "noise" that filled the Globe Theatre, stripping away the modern tendency to treat musical references in Shakespeare as purely symbolic.

The experience of reading it is akin to browsing a well-kept archive; it is precise, patient, and full of fascinating, unexpected details about the everyday life of the period. However, it is not a light, narrative-driven history. The prose is academic and assumes a certain level of comfort with musical terminology. Furthermore, the reader should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes and the occasional, dense listing of technical sources. While it does not offer a smooth, story-driven arc, its value lies in its integrity. It remains a timeless resource for those who want to hear the "silver sound" behind the words, ensuring that the next time a character calls for a "tucket" or a "strain," the reader knows exactly what kind of music is filling the air.