that strongly marked and emphatic pathos, by both of which it is, in a particular manner, distinguished. There is another cause, to which also may be ascribed the peculiarity of style in the Italian music: they were much in the habit of singing, as they term it, improvisatore; in other words, extempore, on such subjects as spontaneously occurred, either in bad rhyme, or in prose; if to the latter, they called it recitativo; and which is, in effect, the same with what we denominate chanting, in the cathedral service of our Episcopal Church. This kind of music is still much in use in Italian song; and the entire action of the Italian opera is carried "on in alternative recitative and air. Music has always been, and still continues to be, resorted to, on certain occasions, in each variety of style of which it is susceptible, for the purpose of influencing the passions, either as a stimulant, or as a sedative. When it is to rouse into action, it is bold, spirited, impetuous; to sooth into peace-soft, tender, plaintive. In lamenting the death of heroes, it is slow, solemn, mournful; in exulting for victory-lively, elevated, grand. Of the first of these classes, may be given, as an example, the piohbrachs, or bagpipe war-songs of the Scottish Highlanders. All the varied degrees of character and expression in music, which we meet with, may be ascribed to these and other causes which have been already mentioned, and from which they naturally spring; and they constitute, indeed, the basis on which are founded all those compound and elaborate compositions performed at our concerts, and distinguished by the names of overture, symphony, concerto, &c., each of which consisting always of two or three of these varieties of strain, commencing with what is called a first, or grand movement, followed generally by one of a more simple and measured style, called by the Italians andante; next the minuetto, somewhat more animated; then adagio, very slow; and concluding with presto, a quick, or prestissimo, a very rapid movement. This arrangement, however, is not uniformly the same, but varies according to the taste or fancy of the composer; and a different disposition is often made in it, for the sake of contrast, which is a constituent beauty in these compositions. If, for example, instead of the adagio and larghetto movement, a degree less grave be introduced, as is often the case, then it is usually succeeded by presto; whereas the very slow movement is more frequently followed by the prestissimo, that the effect inay be more striking. It is, at the same time, proper here to observe, that, in many of our more modern compositions of this kind, the effect originally intended is almost, if not altogether lost, and overwhelmed by a complicated arrangement, and multiplied sub-division of notes, for the purpose either of shewing the chromatic skill of the composer, or of displaying the powers of rapid execution in the performer; but by which means, the flow of harmony is, in a great measure, rendered obscure, or at least straining and painful to the ear to follow. This undoubtedly betrays a false or vitiated taste. It is now no time to take some notice of German composition. I do not pretend to determine whether it is to that country, or to Italy, that we are indebted for the first discovery of the rich and fine effect produced by two or more voices or instruments singing or playing in concert, but shall leave that question to be decided by those of more laborious and minute research, who have better access to the means of prosecuting it; to one or the other, however, it is certainly to be ascribed. The Germans have a national music of a character quite peculiar to itself, and particularly distinguished from, and strongly contrasted with, that of Italy, by a certain grave and measured style, entirely its own. On this style are constructed some of the finest, most harmonious, and most scientific productions of the best old composers, Handel, Correlli, Gemeniani, and others; it has been also the elementary groundwork of the more modern and no less scientific Haydn and Mozart; and there can be little doubt, that if the Germans had not the honour of originally discovering the great refinement in the musical art above mentioned, they have been the principal promoters of it; and, by observing the infinite combinations of which it is susceptible, laid the foundation of its present pre-eminence as a science, which has now its Professors at most of the principal Universities in Europe. I consider music as a gift sent us from on high, for wise and good purposes; and it is to be regretted that the culture and practice of it were not more generally recommended and encouraged in private circles, under a conviction that much moral good would result from it, were it to become, more than it is, a favourite and fashionable source of evening recreation. The present system of musical education, however, is, I fear, something defective, as conducing to that end. On this subject, some remarks shall be submitted in the sequel. Of the individuals which compose the generality of evening parties, all, and perhaps the major part, have not a relish for literary and refined, or instructive conversation; and among those whose minds and dispositions, or even acquirements, are favourable to it, there are, comparatively, few who are gifted with the talent of supporting it. That of a lighter and more playful cast, though it may, if not instructive, be perfectly harmless, yet, when long continued, become vapid, and, with some minds, requires a sprinkling of higher seasoning to make it palatable, and is thus apt to degenerate from that kindly good humour and easy politeness-that suaviter in modowhich is the cement of society, into personal allusion or unseasonable raillery, perhaps, now and then, to trench on the confines of ribaldry. This, at least, would be avoided in an evening spent in music. I pity the man who dislikes, or affects to dislike, music, for the mental resources of that man are, I would suspect, generally of a very mechanical cast, and very limited. When he is among companions suited to the standard of his own taste, he thinks himself extremely happy, because his ideas of happiness come within the compass of a nut-shell,-spends the evening over his bottle,-perhaps closes the night in riot,—and awakes in the morning with his head aching, and his mind deteriorated or remorseful. He goes into company of ano ther class, as he occasionally must; the habits of the house are sober and rational;-its guests intelligent, -perhaps refined;-in conversation with them he is out of his element; -they do not play cards;—music is proposed and resorted to;-he is constrained to express, or look a pleased acquiescence, which he is far, very far from feeling; and sits for a time, in bad humour and self-inflicted torment, merely because he has long been in the habit of trying to convince himself that it is impossible he can derive any pleasure from music. That there are many persons who are very little affected with "the concord of sweet sounds," and on whose mind and feelings it excites little or no emotion, is a fact which, I believe, will not be disputed. But that any man lives, to whom it is not only positively disagreeable, but who has an absolute and decided aversion to it, I firmly believe and aver to be a solecism in nature, though I have heard the assertion from more than one. I am inclined to think, that the remark of Shakespeare, so often cited, goes too far; and that there are men who, without "music in their souls," are yet not fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;" and I believe, moreover, that there have been many, who, although feelingly alive to its charms, have, nevertheless, proved themselves very unworthy and unprincipled characters. Of the man who professes an abhorrence for it, (for I have heard the expression,) I would say, as the best apology I can make for him, that it is because he is ashamed to let it be known to others that he possesses a share of the best feelings of his nature, in common with the rest of his species. But if, (and I would hope, for the honour of human nature, the thing is impossible,) if it is that he fears to acknowledge it to himself, I would then proclaim upon the housetops," Let no such man be trusted.” Among those who care little about it, there are many who profess, or pretend to dislike music, for no other reason, if the truth were known, than that they could occupy the time they would be thus engaged in a way more congenial to their own taste; this dislike, therefore, is, at best, of a negative character. I knew a gentleman, a good many years ago, pected appearance of an embryo blossom of good taste, now and then, by the effect produced on them by certain particular strains, that it was supposed they could neither relish nor understand. It is not a little singular, but, I believe, no less true, that those who seem to have neither ear, taste, nor fondness for music,in short, to know nothing at all about it, can yet generally tell, with some degree of accuracy, if it be well or ill performed, whether it be a sym-phony of Haydn's, or push about the jorum." This has come within my own observation in repeated instances. The foregoing suggestions must be understood to relate, simply, rather to a relish or liking for music, as it affects the ear generally, than as having a reference to the taste or judgment; for an extreme fondness for music, and a fine taste for it, are by no means always united. But this distinction may be analogous to that which subsists between the epicure and the gourmand; the latter eagerly takes what is set before him, without so much regarding the quality or cookery, so as he has enough; whereas the former is much more fastidious in his choice, both as to the cookery and quality of his dish, and also of the manner in which it is served up to him. And, indeed, I would be inclined to suspect, that there are fewer persons of pure and correct musical taste than the world has the credit of producing. who professed to be one of those I have said that the present system of musical education seems inimical to its encouragement, as a useful source of evening recreation. The generality of teachers do not, I believe, begin by adopting the best means of discovering any latent seeds of musical taste, which their pupils may possess, nor of developing them, when discovered, by exercising them, first in the most simple, and afterwards in the more compound and varied combinations of sound; in short, in the harmonies, which I conceive to be the foundation, the great corner-stone of all music, and from whence proceeds its powerful influences, notwithstanding what Jean Jacques Rousseau has asserted to the contrary; and this is what alone will engraft a relish for it, if it is to be done at all. For there are many ears which are very little, if at all โด affected by any arrangement of simple melody, but, I believe, none that do not derive a certain degree of pleasure from a protracted swell of fine har mony; and, for this reason, I should presume to think, that the organ is better adapted than any other instrument for bringing forward pupils of this description, or rather for leading them to imbibe a liking for it; the first dawnings of which should be eagerly laid hold of, and carefully watched and cherished; and in doing so, there can be no better assistant than some of Handel's simplest har monies, or the more select of our church psalmody. In these remarks, I allude merely to those who, to use the common phrase, are not musical, For where Nature has given an ear, a taste, and a fondness for it, the work of the teacher is half done. But, with the former, it is rather to be feared he is too apt to form hasty and premature conclusions, in regard to their musical capacity, without having fairly tried the most efficacious means, or taken due pains to call it forth should it exist. This, I am aware, requires much patience and perseverance, and no small share of discernment; but the teacher should not be without these qualifications, and it is his duty to exercise them. It too often happens, however, that if the pupil does not early discover the aptitude to be wished, or betrays the germs of false taste, the teacher that he may at least obtain some credit, goes at once to work mechanically; and instead of using his best endeavours to correct that taste, and give to it its legitimate direction, (which I am persuaded may be done in many cases by the rules before suggested,) gives up the contest ere it is well begun,-yields to it the bridle-rein, and satisfies himself with sending the young lady forth to delight her partial friends, and annoy others, with a copious collection of reels, strathspeys, and waltzes, as if set in the barrel of an organ, and which she performs just as mechanically, and often in such a manner as to outrage all harmony, the accompanying bass appearing to be considered as no further necessary than to be used as a drum, to increase the noise. The young lady, thus ready prepared and wound-up, emerges from her finishing school to dazzle the world, by playing off her evanescent accomplishments before they fude from her memory. On making her de but, she is, of course, requested to sit down to the piano, a favour, however, which is not granted till after the due proportion of solicitation and entreaty; though Miss would have been in the pouts, and gnawed her gloves in pieces, had it not been proposed. The evil which follows is still greater. When once the lady is seated at the instrument, she seems to consider that it is expected she will go through her whole collection, and goes on without interval, until the mechanism is run down; and even then, the young debutante seems to forget that she is not fastened to her seat, but continues to blunder through fragments that she has never practised, (whether or not to the delight of her auditors I leave them to answer,) until, perhaps, a hint is given that she is not the only performer in the company. To ask this young lady to play any thing at sight, or, indeed, out of any book except her own, how simple soever it may be, is out of the question. My gentle and fair young reader, (if such thou art,) look not indignant, nor cloud thy lovely features with a frown; the fault is not thy own; it is extrinsic, and originates in a want, either of skill or of pains, perhaps of both,— certainly in want of candour,—in thy instructor. It is impossible that one thus taught can ever join in the delightful socialities of playing in concert, because no pains, at least certainly not sufficient pains, have been taken to give her a relish for it, in the first place, and qualify her for it in the second. Here, surely, is great room for amendment; and it is no less certain that it is not beyond the reach of it. Let it be well understood, that the foregoing strictures are by no means intended to apply to teachers universally, for I am well assured, that this lax and superficial system of musical education is not practised by those who are high in the profession. Among the many modern discoveries in Natural Philosophy, it seems to have been adopted as an established principle in the animal economy, that the organs of music are equally and universally diffused throughout the female part of the rational creation, if, by an inverse ratio, the premises are to be inferred from the conclusion; for it would appear now to be considered as an in dispensable branch of female tuition, from the young lady of rank down to the huckster's daughter. Hence it naturally follows, that there must be a great increase in the number of labourers, where the harvest is so abundant. (By the way, I would suggest, that a certain class of these pupils be consigned over to the care of the journeymen pianoforte makers, to be taught to set the stops agoing, as coming more immediately within their mechanical department.) Among this mass of teachers, there must be comparatively few who will, or indeed can be expected to exert much extra labour, unless where the pupil shews a decided genius, and seems to derive pleasure from it; and the more especially where, perhaps in nine cases out of ten, there is little risk of either the teacher's defects, or the pupil's want of capacity, being detected by her relatives. The professor of established emi nence, I am aware, has often an invidious and disagreeable duty to perform, when he discovers in his pupil (which he will very soon do,) that the soil is all barren; he will naturally shrink from the ungracious task of communicating this to the young lady's parents or friends, and representing to them that it is a fruitless expenditure of their money and of her time, both which might be more profitably employed on other branches of instruction. And indeed were he to do so, he will not always receive the thanks to which his candour surely would justly entitle him. Rather than encounter this, it were not to be wondered at, if he should persevere for a time, with much trouble and little complacency; and the reading and fingering being surmounted, he may, by mechanical rules, (for he can do it in no other way,) possibly make her, in a tolerable degree, mistress of a certain collection of fashionable airs, to be exhibited as occasion may occur. The former of these two alternatives, however, has, I believe, been conscientiously and honourably adopted in many instances. J. S. TRANSLATION OF THE LA PARTENZA OF METASTASIO. THE hour is come, replete with woes, Nicé, my love, adieu, No ray of bless the future shows, "Tis darkness to my view. Can I enjoy the balm of rest, If distant far from thee? Though peace is banish'd from my mind, Where thou art found alone: In vision's paths with thee; But yet, alas! how much I dread Thou wilt not think of me! The sea's lone shore my grief shall know, I'll visit oft each flowery vale, Each scene to me once dear, Remembrance sad, in every part, My torment now must be ; What fears, alas! distract my heart This stream, I'll say, with crystal wave, To see her frown; but then she gave Her hand in peace again; "Twas here I oft have seen the smile, 'Twas here I sigh'd for thee; But will e'er hope again beguile? Say, wilt thou think of me? How many swains, with love sincere, Thy new abode will view! While each fond breast its homage shows, And pours its griefs to thee, Who knows, my love, alas! who knows If thou wilt think of me? Remember oft, when once we part, Oh! think, my love-but who can tell |