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Collection: The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill

155.: FLOWER’S SONGS OF THE SEASONS EXAMINER, 8 APR., 1832, P. 230 - John Stuart Mill, The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXIII - Newspaper Writings August 1831 - October 1834 Part II [1831]

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The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Volume XXIII - Newspaper Writings August 1831 - October 1834 Part II, ed. Ann P. Robson and John M. Robson, Introduction by Ann P. Robson and John M. Robson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1986).

Part of: Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, in 33 vols.

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155.

FLOWER’S SONGS OF THE SEASONS

EXAMINER, 8 APR., 1832, P. 230

For Mill’s first tribute to Eliza Flower, see No. 112. This item, in the “Musical Review,” is headed “Songs of the Seasons. By the author of the Musical Illustrations of the Waverley Novels. [London: Novello, 1832.]” It is described in Mill’s bibliography as “A review of Miss Flower’s ‘Songs of the Seasons,’ in the Examiner of 8th April 1832” (MacMinn, p. 20). In the Somerville College set it is listed as “Review of Miss Flower’s ‘Songs of the Seasons’ ” and enclosed in square brackets.

in the examiner of the 3d of July last, we paid such offering of admiration as we knew how to give, to Miss Flower’s Musical Illustrations of the Waverley Novels. If time and familiarity have shewn us anything to regret in the testimony we then rendered to that delightful work, it is that we hardly trusted ourselves to say all we might have said in its praise, nor to try it by so high a standard as that to which alone it can be referred, without a certain insensibility to what constitutes its highest excellence. There is in every strain that which denotes it to be the work not merely of an accomplished musician, but of a mind penetrated with the spirit of a true artist; of one who recognizes in art (what the mere trader in its productions, let him trade for fame or money, will never see in it) a language for the most earnest feelings of the most susceptible minds: for those feelings which, when they vent themselves in articulate sounds, give birth to poetry and eloquence—when in any other kind of language, to Art in all its branches. The language which Miss Flower has chosen is music, and she speaks it like one to whom none of its dialects is unfamiliar, because none of the feelings to which it is appropriate, from the loftiest to the most tender, is a stranger to her. When to these qualities of the inmost nature, is added originality of melody, together with adequate scientific knowledge of harmonic principles, we have all which constitutes musical genius, in the highest and most exclusive sense of the term. And whatever may be the place assigned to Miss Flower among the comparatively few, whom this union of endowments entitles to the rank of artists in music, that she belongs to the class, no competent judge, we are persuaded, will for a moment doubt.

We welcome a new work from the same hand, with the greater pleasure, as there are many motives not likely to be durable which may lead to the appearance of a first production, but it is the second which shews that the author has chosen her career—that she has found an answer to the question which every mind of any inherent power asks itself, what it is fittest for? in what manner the faculties which it possesses can be called into fullest exercise, and turned to the most valuable account? We are now authorized to hope that she will many more times have to receive our thanks, for benefitting and delighting us as she has already done.

The work before us consists of four songs, illustrative of the Four Seasons. This design did not allow of such lofty flights as her “Lament of Meg Merrilies” or her “Lady in St. Swithin’s Chair,”1 the unearthly character of which could only correspond to words as solemn and impressive; nor would the wild strains in which she has so characteristically shadowed out the mental wanderings of the dying Madge Wildfire, have suited an occasion where neither poetry nor music had anything more to do than embellishing familiar objects. Her present subject required not so much imagination as fancy, and a mind at peace and in sympathy with all nature. There are minds to whom Autumn and Winter are more congenial than Spring and Summer, or over whose emotions at least, those gloomier seasons have greater command. The contrary seems to be the case with Miss Flower; her disposition must be sunny and cheerful, for it is evident to us, that her heart is in the first two of her songs, and only her understanding in the two last.

The first in particular must be admired by every lover of chaste and expressive music. It is one of the sweetest pastoral duets which has been produced in this country for many years. Miss Flower, who is usually happy in the choice of her words, has been indebted for them in this case to a friend who is not named. They appear to us so delicate and fanciful, that we permit ourselves the pleasure of quoting them at length: they are worthy of the music, and the music of them.

    • Rose, rose! open thy leaves,
    • Spring is whispering love to thee;
    • Rose, rose! open thy leaves,
    • Near is the nightingale on the tree.
    • Rose, rose! open thy leaves,
    • And fill with sweet breath the ripening eves.
    • Lily, lily! awake, awake!
    • The fairy wanteth her flowery boat:
    • Lily, lily! awake, awake!
    • And set thy sweet laden bark afloat:
    • Lily, lily! awake, awake!
    • And cover with leaves the sleeping lake.
    • Flowers, come forth, come forth, ’tis Spring!
    • Stars of the woods, the hills and dells!
    • Fair valley-lilies, come forth, and ring
    • From your green turrets your silvery bells.
    • Flowers, come forth, ’tis Spring!

The second, “Summer,” we think little if at all inferior to the first. The words (by the author’s sister)2 mingle another expression with that belonging to the season, being a summons from a lover to his mistress, to partake of its delights. Both the words and the melody (the simplest of the collection) are overflowing with a gentle and placid tenderness.

“Autumn” is less a favourite with us than any of the others: we have met however, with persons who admired this most of them all. We should praise it too, if the author had not so often far excelled it.

“Winter” is highly original, but sounds to us somewhat odd and uncouth: perhaps because the rhythm of the words is unusual, and not very well adapted for music. Nowhere has Miss Flower scattered the materials both of melody and accompaniment with a more lavish hand, but we think she has been less felicitious than usual in putting them together. The air is not marked with that singleness of conception, which is the surest indication, and indeed, the only rational definition ever given, of true taste. It has the appearance of being not one air, but fragments of several. In particular, there is in the very middle a startling modulation from minor to major, which must have produced a great effect if there were at that place any corresponding change of sentiment in the words. A modulation exactly the converse of this, in “St. Swithin’s Chair,” was extremely striking and characteristic: but the higher resources of the art should be reserved for occasions to which its more ordinary means are not adequate.

Miss Flower’s worst pieces, however, are superior to the best of many popular composers, and her best are such as “will not willingly be let die.”3 We hope for many more, both of the one and of the other.*

[1 ]These, like “Madge Wildfire,” are in Flower’s Musical Illustrations; see No. 112.

[2 ]Sarah Flower Adams, like her sister, lived in W.J. Fox’s house as his ward from the death of her father in 1827 until her marriage to William Bridges Adams (“Junius Redivivus”) in 1834.

[3 ]Milton, The Reason of Church Government (1641), in Works, Vol. I, p. 119.

[* ]Among the good qualities of the present publication, is to be ranked one as rare in our times as much higher merits, that of cheapness. It consists of twenty-four pages of the ordinary size, and is sold for only six shillings.