Johann Joseph Fux · section 28 of 32

On taste

Scarcely any talk is heard more frequently than talk of taste. Thus we hear an Italian say, “He has good taste”; a Frenchman, “His taste is perfectly good”; and a Latin speaker, “He is a man of exquisite taste.” Would that defining taste were as easy as asserting it. Although taste is properly attributed only to the palate, in a broader sense it may apply wherever there is a right and choice fittingness of order. Leaving other matters aside, for our purpose taste must be confined to music and distinguished as twofold: active and passive. Active taste is that which a musician exercises in singing or playing, of which we have spoken at length above. Passive taste is that which the listener receives from melody. But whom shall we appoint judge of good and corrupted taste, since, according to the familiar proverb, “My own things please me, yours please you, and each person’s own things please that person”? Likewise, “There is no disputing about tastes,” and no one should be judge in his own cause. Hence a rustic takes more delight in his own little tune than in any artful musical composition. On the same grounds, Mr. Bellegarde relates that there was a man of no mean birth who, offended by the singing of nightingales but wonderfully delighted by the croaking of frogs, had a house built for himself beside a remote pond surrounded by no trees. Thus he could enjoy by day and night music so exquisite in his judgment, while the lack of trees left the nightingales no place to stay and weary him with their singing. What do you think, Joseph, of the sublimity of this man’s taste?

Joseph. I think it could not undeservedly be called into question.

Aloysius. Listen further to one or two examples of rashness and foolish judgment, and the punishment that followed. Marsyas, the proud piper, through excessive self-esteem dared to challenge Apollo to a contest and paid for his rashness by being flayed. Midas, king of Phrygia, because he awarded first place to the god Pan in a musical contest with Apollo, had his ears lengthened into the shape of a donkey’s. These are fabulous inventions of poets. But if the punishment for the offense were as certain in our age as the existence of rash and corrupt judges of taste, how many would we see walking without skin, and how many with donkey’s ears! I do not deny that, according to the saying “My own things please me,” everyone is free to take pleasure in anything, provided that person does not assume the role of judge. That belongs only to one who understands and knows how to distinguish the commonplace and familiar from the higher and more sublime, while preserving the order of things and nature. Hear Cicero speaking on this matter: “Others,” he says, “when they read good speeches or poems, approve the orators and poets without understanding what moves them to approval, since they cannot know where it lies, what it is, or how that which most delights them was made.” There are also some modern composers who, in pursuit of taste and novelty, depart from the customary use of consonances and dissonances, overturn all the rights and laws of the art, and flatter themselves that they create—which belongs only to almighty God—whereas the novelty of our limited ingenuity is nothing other than the arrangement of the same consonances and dissonances in different ways according to sound reason. I therefore say that the composition which rightly claims the distinction of good taste is one founded on precepts, avoiding trivialities and extravagant excess, aiming at higher things while proceeding naturally, and capable of giving pleasure even to those skilled in the art.

Joseph. How many different and difficult things your definition requires!

Aloysius. I do not deny, Joseph, that attaining this in every respect is not for beginners, who do not find it so easy even to discover the commonplaces at first; nor can one reach it unless ordinary things are first readily at hand. It may perhaps be possible for you, Joseph, who have given such splendid demonstrations of progress thus far, and therefore I shall undertake ahead of time to explain the definition part by part.

First I said that the composition must be founded on precepts. For a lawless one, though otherwise possessing an uncommon idea and able to tickle the ears of the unskilled, will not greatly satisfy the refined taste of those skilled in the art, who desire correctness as well as an exquisite idea. It was also said and advised that the composer should not take up low and ordinary conceptions that, through their triviality, will bring weariness instead of pleasure, but should seek novelty while aiming at sublimity. Conversely, the composer must not be seduced by the pursuit of novelty into conceiving ideas that exceed nature and the order of things, and are excessively difficult to sing or play, satisfying neither performers nor listeners: not performers because of the difficulty of execution, and not listeners because compositions of this kind, exceeding natural reason, may lodge in the ears but never penetrate the mind.

Joseph. Master, you demand no small thing in forbidding the commonplace while requiring what is sublime and unusual, yet natural.

Aloysius. Indeed. For presenting something easy and natural to the ear, yet not commonplace, is not so easy; hence the widespread proverb, “The easy is difficult.” But the excellence and seasoning of good taste rest on this difficult ease. Someone concerned only with novelty, who overturns the order of things and nature, does not labor under the same difficulty in inventing something new and unusual. But how will that path attain the goal of good taste? I shall not deny that a very great part of good taste depends upon each composer’s genius and talent. Yet influences of this kind, not without charm in themselves, must be contained within the bounds of nature, order, and laws if they are deservedly to attain the character of sound taste.

Joseph. What if the corruption of the times and the custom of perverted taste have become so powerful that a composer cannot oppose them, as though a torrent, without damage to reputation and livelihood?

Aloysius. One whom fortune has blessed, who delights more in the grain than in the husk, has nothing to worry about and no reason to depart from sound judgment. If circumstances are otherwise, let that person be content with virtue and strengthened by the teaching of the most wise Seneca, who speaks of providence in his own manner, not the Christian one: “Just as so many rivers, so much rain poured down from above, and such a force of medicinal springs do not change the taste of the sea, or even weaken it, so the onslaught of adversity does not alter the mind of a brave man. He remains firm and draws whatever happens into his own character.” I know that these things concern moral life, but preserving the sciences and arts without blemish also has its own virtue.

Since different kinds and styles of composition require differing taste, we must first discuss diversity of style, especially because all our labor chiefly tends toward it.