'SANS la musique un Etat ne peut subsister.' - MOLIERE.

Music of the Ancients.

Music, like all other arts, has been progressive, and its improvements may be traced through a period of more than three thousand years. Being common to all ages and nations, neither its invention nor refinement can., with propriety, be attributed to any single individual. The Hermes or Mercury of the Egyptians, surnamed Trismegistus, or thrice illustrious, who was, according to Sir Isaac Newton, the secretary of Osiris, is, however, commonly celebrated as the inventor of music.

From the accounts of Diodorus Siculus, and of Plato, there is reason to suppose, that in very ancient times, the study of music in Egypt was confined to the priesthood, who used it only in religious and solemn ceremonies. It was esteemed sacred, and forbidden to be employed on light or common occasions; and all innovation in it was strictly prohibited.

It is to be regretted that there are no traces by which we can form an accurate judgment of the style or relative excellence of this very ancient music. It is, unhappily, not with music in this respect, as with ancient sculpture and poetry, of which we have so many noble monuments remaining, for there is not even a single piece of musical composition existing, by which we can form a certain judgment of the degree of excellence to which the musicians. of old had attained. The earliest Egyptian musical instrument of which we have any record, is that on the guglia rotta at Rome, one of the obelisks brought from Egypt, and said to have been erected by Sesostris, at Heliopolis, about four hundred years before the siege of Troy. This curious relic of antiquity, which is a musical instrument of two strings, with a neck, resembles much the calascione still used in the kingdom of Naples, and proves that the Egyptians, at a very early period of their history, had advanced to a-considerable degree of excellence in the cultivation of the arts; indeed there is ample evidence, that at a time when the world was involved in savage ignorance, the Egyptians were possessed of musical instruments capable of much variety of expression.

We learn from Holy Scripture, that in Laban's time instrumental music was much in use in the country where he dwelt, that is, in Mesopotamia; since, among the other reproaches which he makes to his son-in-law, Jacob, he complains, that by his precipitate flight he had put it out of his power to conduct him and his family 'with mirth and with songs, with tabret and with harp.' The son of Sirach, in giving directions to the master of a banquet as to his behaviour, desires him, amongst other things, 'to hinder not the music;' and to this he adds, 'a concert of music in a banquet of wine, is as a signet of carbuncle set in gold; as a signet of emerald set in a work of gold, so is the melody of music with pleasant wine.' In speaking in the praise of Josias, he says, 'the remembrance of Josias is like the composition of the perfume, that is made by the art of the apothocary, it is as sweet as honey in all mouths; and as music in a banquet of wine.' Here we have a pleasing recollection, illustrated by a comparison with the gratification of three of the senses. Ossian, on an occasion a little different, makes use of the last comparison, but in an inverted order, when he says, 'The music of Caryl is like the memory of joys that are past, pleasing and mournful to the soul.'

The Hebrew instruments of music were principally those of percussion; so that on that account, as well as the harshness of the language, the music must have been coarse and noisy. The great number of performers too, whom it was the custom of the Hebrews to collect together, could, with such language and such instruments, produce nothing but clamour and jargon. According to Josepthus, there were two hundred thousand musicians at the dedication of the Temple of Solomon.

Music appears to have been interwoven through the whole tissue of religious ceremonies in Palestine. The priests appear to have been musicians hereditarily, and by office. The prophets accompanied their inspired effusions with music; and every prophet, like the present improvisatori of Italy, appears to have been accompanied by musical instrument.

Vocal and instrumental music constituted a principal part of the funeral ceremonies of the Jews. The pomp and expense on these occasions were prodigious. The number of flute players in he processions amounted sometimes to several hundreds, and the attendance of the guests continued frequently for thirty days.

It has been imagined, with much appearance of probability, that the occupation of the first poets and musicians of Greece, resembled that of the Celtic and German bards, and the Scalds of Iceland and Scandinavia. They sung their poems in the streets of cities, and in the palaces of princes. They were treated with great respect, and regarded as inspired persons. Such was the employment of Homer. In his poems so justly celebrated, music is always named with rapture; but as no mention is made of instrumental music, unaccompanied with poetry and singing, a considerable share of the poet's praises is to be attributed to the poetry. The instruments most frequently named are the lyre, the flute, and the syrinx. The trumpet does not appear to have been known at the siege of Troy, although it was in use in the days of Homer himself.

The invention of notation and musical characters, marked a distinguished era in the progress of music. There are a diversity of accounts respecting the person to whom the honour of that invention is due; but the evidence is strongest in favour of Terpander, a celebrated poet and musician, who flourished 671 years before Christ; and to whom music is much indebted. Before this valuable discovery, music being entirely traditional, must have depended much on the memory and taste of the performer.

The character of the Grecian music appears to have been noisy and vociferous in the extreme. The trumpet players at the Olympic games used to express an excess of joy when they found their exertions had burst a bloodvessel, or done them some other serious injury. Lucian relates of a young flute-player, Harmonides, that on his first public appearance at these games, he began a solo with so violent a blast, in order to surprise and elevate the audience, that he breathed his last breath into his flute, and died on the spot.

The musicians of Greece, who performed in public, were of both sexes; and the beautiful Lamia, who was taken prisoner by Demetrius, and captivated her conqueror, as well as many other females, are mentioned by ancient authors in terms of admiration.

The Romans like every other people, were, from their first origin as a nation, possessed of a species of music which might be distinguished as their own. It appears to have been rude and coarse, and probably was a variation of the music in use among the Etruscans, and other tribes around them in Italy, but as soon as they began to open a commucation with Greece, from that country, with their arts and philosophy they borrowed also their music and musical instruments.

Stringed Instruments.

The earliest of stringed instruments was the lyre. As it originally existed in Egypt and among the Greeks for several centuries, it consisted of only three strings. We have, in modern music, a specimen of an air by Rousseau, formed on three notes alone - the key note, with its second and third; and if we may judge from this, very pleasing and powerful effects might have been produced within such a compass. It is uncertain when, or by whom, the fourth string was added; but the merit of increasing the number to seven, is generally attributed to Terpander, who has also the reputation of having introduced notation into music. Two centuries later, Pythagoras or Simonides added an eighth string. The number was afterwards extended to two octaves; and Epigonus is said to have used a lyre of forty strings, or rather a harp, as he played without a plectrum. The lyre of eight strings comprehended an octave, corresponding pretty accurately with the notes of our natural scale, beginning with e. The key note was a, so that the melody appears to have borne usually a minor third, which has been also observed to be the case with the airs of most uncultivated nations.

The ancient modes of tuning the lyre were totally different from those of modern times; but it has been a matter of question whether they did not afford a more copious fund of striking, if not of pleasing melodies. In some of them intervals of about a quarter tone were employed; but this practice, on account of its difficulty, was soon abandoned - a difficulty which is not easily overcome by the most experienced of modern singers, although some great masters have been said to introduce a progression Of quarter tones, in pathetic passages, with surprising effect. The tibia of the ancients, as appears evidently from Theophrastus, although not from the misinterpretations of his commentators, and of Pliny, had a reed mouth-piece about three inches long, and, therefore, was more properly a clarionet than a flute; and the same performer generally played on two at once, and not in unison.

Pollux, in the time of Commodus, describes, under the name of the Tyrrhene pipe, exactly such an organ as is figured by Hawkins, composed of brass tubes, and blown by bellows; nor does he mention it as a new discovery. It appears from other authors to have been often furnished with several registers of pipes, and it is scarcely possible that the performer, who is represented by Julian as having considerable execution, should have been contented without occasionally adding harmony to his melody. That the voice was accompanied by thorough bass on the lyre, is undeniably proved by a passage of Plato; and that the ancients had some knowledge of singing in three parts is evident from Macrobius. It is indeed strongly denied by Martini and others that the ancients had any knowledge of counterpoint, nor is it absolutely necessary to suppose a very exquisite and refined skill in the intricacies of composition to produce all the effects that have, with any probability, been ascribed to the music of the ancients. It is well known that Rousseau and others have maintained that harmony is rather detrimental than advantageous to an interesting melody, in which true music consists; and it may easily be observed that an absolute solo, whether a passage or a cadence, is universally received, even by cultivated hearers, with more attention and applause than the richest modulations of a powerful harmony.

Whatever may have been the attainments of the ancients in harmonic science, it is certain that among the moderns it remained almost wholly unknown till about the fifteenth century. The foundations of it were laid by Muris, Fairfax, and Bird. Handel, Purcell, and Corelli afterwards gave it scale, system, and arrangement; and Haydn, to whom the completion of the work was reserved, spread out the edifice to the skies, and environed it with all the delights of melody.

The Organ.

We do not find any mention of an organ before the year 757 when Constantine Cupronymus, Emperor of the East, sent to Pepin, King of France, among other rich presents, a musical machine, which the French writers describe to have been composed of pipes and large tubes of tin, and to have imitated sometimes the roaring of thunder, and sometimes the warbling of a flute. A lady was so affected on first hearing it played on, that she fell into a delirium, and could never afterwards be restored to her reason.

In the reign of the Emperor Julian, these instruments had become so popular that Ammianus Marcellinus complains that they occasioned the study of the sciences to be abandoned.

The Harpsichord.

Neither the name of the harpsichord, nor that of the spinet, of which it is manifestly but an improvement, occurs in the writings of any of the monkish musicians who wrote after Guido, the inventor of the modern method of notation. As little is there any notice taken of it by Chaucer, who seems to have occasionally mentioned all the various instruments in use in his time. Chaucer, indeed, speaks of an instrument called the citole in these verses:-

'He taught her, till she was certeyne,
Of harp, citole, and of ciote,
With many a tune, and many a note.'

CONFESSIO AMANTIS.

And by an ancient list of the domestic establishment of Edward III., it appears that he had in his service a musician called a cyteller or cysteller. This citole (from citolla, a little chest) Sir John Hawkins supposes to have been 'an instrument resembling a box, with strings on the top or belly, which, by the application of the tastatura, or key board, borrowed from the organ and sacks, became a spinet.' Of the harpsichord, however, properly so called, the earliest description of it which has been yet met with occurs in the 'Musurgia' of Ottomanis Luscinius, published at Strasburgh in 1536.

Inventor of the Modern Scale.

Although there is scarcely a work on music which does not make mention of Guido Aretinus as the reformer of the ancient scale of music, and the inventor of the new method of notation, founded on the adaptation of the syllables ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, from a hymn of St. John the Baptist, yet, by a kind of fatality very difficult to account for, his memory lives almost solely in his inventions. He was a native of Arezzo, a city in Tuscany, and having been taught the practice of music in his youth, and probably retained, as a chorister in the service of the Benedictine monastery founded in that city, he became a monk professed, and a brother of the order of St. Benedict. In this retirement he seems to have devoted himself to the study of music, particularly the system of the ancients, and above all, to reform their method of notation. The difficulties that attended the instruction of youth in the church offices were so great that, as he himself says, ten years were generally consumed barely in acquiring a knowledge of the plain song; and this consideration induced him to labour after some amendment, some method that might facilitate instruction, and enable those employed in the choral office to perform the duties of it in a correct and decent manner. If we may credit those legendary accounts that are extant in monkish manuscripts, we should believe he was actually assisted in his pious intention by immediate communication from heaven. Some speak of the invention of the syllables as 'the effect of inspiration,' and Guido himself seems to have been of the same opinion, by his saying it was revealed to him by the Lord, or, as some interpret his words, in a dream. Graver historians say, that being at vespers in the chapel of his monastery, it happened that one of the offices appointed for that day was the above-mentioned hymn to St. John the Baptist, which commences with these lines:-

Ut queant laxis,
Resonare fibris.
Mira gestorum,
Famula tuorum,
Solvi polluti,
Labii reatum.

SANCTI JOHANNIS.

'We must suppose,' says Sir John Hawkins, 'that the converting of the tetrachords into hexachords, had previously been the subject of frequent contemplation with Guido, and a method of discriminating the tones and semi tones was the only thing wanting to complete his invention. During the performance of the above hymn, he remarked the iteration of the words, and the frequent returns of ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la; he observed likewise a dissimilarity between the closeness of the syllable mi and the broad open sound of fa, which he thought could not fail to impress upon the mind an idea of their congruity, and immediately conceived a thought of applying those Six syllables to his new-formed hexachord. Struck with the discovery, he retired to his study, and having perfected his system, began to introduce it into practice.'

The persons to whom Guido first communicated his invention were the brethren of his own monastery, from whom it met with but a cold reception. In an epistle from him to his friend Michael, a monk of Pomposa, he ascribes this to what was undoubtedly its true cause; envy. However, his interest with the abbot, and his employment in the chapel, gave him an opportunity of trying the efficacy of this method on the boys who were trained up for the choral service, and it exceeded his most sanguine expectations.

The fame of Guido's invention spread quickly abroad, and no sooner was it known than generally followed. We are told by Kircher that Hirmannus, Bishop of Hamburgh, and Elvericus, Bishop of Osnaburgh, made use of it; and by the author of the 'Histoire Litteraire de la France,' that it was received in that country, and taught in all the monasteries in the kingdom. It is certain that the reputation of his great skill in music had excited in the Pope a desire to see and converse with him, of which, and of his going to Rome for that purpose, and the reception he met with from the Pontiff, Guido has himself given a circumstantial account, in the epistle to his friend Michael before mentioned.

The particulars of this relation are very curious, and, as we have his own authority, there is no room to doubt the truth of it. It seems that John XX., or, as some writers compute, the nineteenth Pope of that name, having heard of the fame of Guido's school, and conceiving a desire to see him, sent three messengers to invite him to Rome. Upon their arrival, it was resolved by the brethren of the monastery that he should go thither, attended by Grimaddo, the Abbot, and Peter, the chief of the canons of the church of Arezzo. Arriving at Rome, he was presented to the holy father, and by him received with great kindness. The Pope had several conversations with him, in all of which he interrogated him as to his knowledge in music; and, upon sight of an antiphonary which Guido had brought with him, marked with the syllables according to his new invention, the Pope looked on it as a kind of prodigy, and ruminating on the doctrines delivered by Guido, would not stir from his seat till he had learned perfectly to sing off a verse, upon which he declared that he could not have believed the efficacy of the method, if he had not been convinced by the experiment he had himself made of it. The Pope would have detained him at Rome, but labouring under a bodily disorder, and fearing an injury to his health from the air of the place, and the heats of the summer, which was then approaching, Guido left that city, with a promise to revisit it, and to explain more at large to his holiness the principles of his new system. On his return homewards, he made a visit to the Abbot of Pomposa, who was very earnest to have Guido settle in the monastery of that place, to which invitation, it seems, he yielded, being, as he says, 'desirous of rendering so great a monastery still more famous by his studies there.'

Early Effects of Music.

The Greeks tell us that Orpheus and Amphion drew the wild beasts after them, made the trees and stones dance to the tune of their harps, and brought them together in such a manner as to form a regular wall, and enclose a great city. Stripped of its fable, this story, according to general interpretation, signifies that they subdued the savage dispositions of a barbarous people, who lived in caves, woods, and deserts, and by representing to them in their songs the advantages of society, persuaded them to build cities, and form a community. It is certain that there is no temper so fierce or brutish but what music, if properly applied, can soften and civilize; and the history of the ancients, long after it had ceased to consist of fable, abounds in instances which show that the art, even in its infancy, has produced some very extraordinary effects. Tyrteus, the Spartan poet, by certain verses which he sung to the accompaniment of flutes, so enflamed the courage of his countrymen, that they achieved a great victory over the Messenians, to whom they had submitted in several previous conflicts. Timotheus, with his flute, could move the passions of Alexander as he pleased, inspiring him at one moment with the greatest fury, and soothing him the next into a state the most gentle and placid. Pythagoras instructed a woman, by the power of music, to arrest the fury of a young man who came to set her house on fire; and his disciple, Empedocles, employed his lyre with success, to prevent another from murdering his father, when the sword was unsheathed for that purpose. The fierceness of Achilles was allayed by playing on the harp, on which account Homer gives him nothing else out of the spoils of Eetion. Damon, with the same instrument, quieted wild and drinking youths; and Asclepiades, in a similar manner, brought back seditious multitudes to temper and reason.

Music is reported to have been also efficacious in removing several dangerous diseases. Picus Mirandola observes, in explanation of its being appropriate to such an end, that music moves the spirits to act upon the soul and the body. Theophrastus, in his essay on Enthusiasm, reports many cures performed on this principle.

It is certain that the Thebans used the pipe for the cure of many disorders, which Galen called, Super loco affecto tibia cavere. So Zenocrates is said to have cured several mad-men, and among others, Sarpander and Arion.

The Rich Harper.

A rich man of Tarentum once took it into his head to distinguish himself at the Pythian games. Not having strength enough to shine as wrestler, nor agility enough for running, he chose to be considered a musical candidate. He made his appearance at Delphos, dressed in cloth of gold, with a crown, in the shape of a laurel, the leaves of which were of gold, adorned with the finest emeralds. His harp exhibited a proportionable grandeur; it was loaded with jewels, and decorated with figures of Orpheus, Apollo, and the Muses. The splendour of his appearance drew all eyes upon him, and every one expected something wonderful from one who had taken such pains to attract their notice. How great was their disappointment, when, on the magnificent harper's attempting to exert his powers, his voice and instruments both equally failed him, and all his efforts produced only the most jarring discords! Shouts of laughter rent the assembly, and the judges of the game whipped him out of the theatre, covered with confusion. The next candidate was one Eupolus of Elis. Although he was meanly dressed, and his harp was but of homely fabric, he drew forth sounds from it which charmed and delighted the whole assembly, and he was universally pronounced worthy of the prize. After receiving the laurel, Eupolus is said to have thus addressed his Tarentine competitor: 'You came crowned with gold and jewels, because you were rich; I, because I am poor, am only rewarded with laurel. But I am well satisfied. With that laurel I have the applause of all Greece, while your crown serves only to make you ridiculed and despised.'

Wrath of Amurath Subdued.

Sultan Amurath, a prince notorious for his cruelty, laid siege to Bagdad, and on taking it, gave orders for putting thirty thousand Persians to death, notwithstanding they had submitted and laid down their arms. Among the number of the victims was a musician, who entreated the officer to whom the execution of the sultan's orders was entrusted, to spare him for a moment, while he might speak to the author of the dreadful decree. The officer consented, and he was brought before Amurath, who permitted him to exhibit a specimen of his art. 'Like the musician in Homer, he took up a kind of psaltry, which resembles a lyre, and has six strings on each side, and accompanied it with his voice. He sung the capture of Bagdad, and the triumph of Amurath. The pathetic tones and exulting sounds which he drew from the instrument, joined to the alternate plaintiveness and boldness of his strains, rendered the prince unable to restrain the softer emotions of his soul. He even suffered him to proceed, until overpowered with harmony, he melted into tears of pity, and repented of his cruelty. In consideration of the musician's abilities, he not only directed his people to spare those among the prisoners who yet remained alive, but also to give them instant liberty.

The Fiddler Nero.

Nero was a striking instance that music has not always that humanizing effect which is generally ascribed to it. He was passionately devoted to the. art, and held public contentions for superiority, with the most celebrated professors of it in Greece and Rome. The solicitude with which this detestable tyrant cultivated his vocal powers, is curious, and seems to throw some light on the practices of singers in ancient times. He used to lie on his back with a thin plate of lead on his stomach; he took frequent emetics and cathartics, abstained from all kinds of fruit and from such meats as were held to be prejudicial to singing. Apprehensive of injuring his voice, he at length desisted from haranguing the soldiery and the senate; and after his return from Greece, he established an officer to regulate his tones in speaking.

Assassins Charmed from their Purpose.

Alexander Stradella, who flourished about the middle of the seventeenth century, was a fine singer, and an excellent performer on the harp. Having gained the affections of a young lady of rank, named Hortensia, they agreed to elope together. On discovering the lady's flight, the Venetian nobleman, under whose care she had been. had recourse to the usual methods of the country, for obtaining satisfaction for real or supposed injuries. He dispatched two assassins, with instructions to murder both Stradella and the lady, wherever they should be found, giving them a sum of money in hand, and making them the promise of a larger sum if they succeeded in the attempt. Having arrived at Naples, they were informed that the persons of whom they were in pursuit, were at Rome, where the lady passed as Stradella's wife. On this intelligence they wrote to their employer, requesting letters of recommendation to the Venetian ambassador - at Rome, in order to secure an asylum to which they could fly as soon as the deed was perpetrated. Having received these letters, they made the best of their way to Rome. On their arrival, they were informed, that on the evening of the succeeding day, Stradella was to give an Oratorio in the church of San Giovanni Latorano. They attended the performance, determined to follow the composer and his mistress out of the church, and seizing a convenient opportunity, to strike the fatal blow. The music soon afterwards commenced; but so affecting was the impression which it made upon them, that, long before it was concluded, they were seized with remorse, and reflected with horror on depriving a man of life who could give to his auditors so much delight as they had felt. In short, they were entirely turned from their purpose, and determined, instead of taking away his life, to exert all their efforts to preserve it. They waited his coming out of church, and, after first thanking him for the pleasure they had received from hearing his music, informed him of the sanguinary errand on which they had been sent, and concluded by earnestly advising that he and the lady should depart immediately from Rome, promising that they would forego the remainder of the reward, and would deceive their employer, by making him believe they had quitted that city on the morning of their arrival.

Harp of the North.

The harp was the favourite musical instrument among the Britons and other northern nations, during the middle ages, as is evident from their laws, and from every passage in their history, in which there is the least allusion to music. By the laws of Wales, a harp was one of the three things that were necessary to constitute a gentleman, that is, a freeman; and no person could pretend to that title, unless he had one of these favourite instruments, and could play upon it.

In the same laws, to prevent slaves from pretending to be gentlemen, it was expressly forbidden to teach, or to permit them to play upon the harp: and none but the king, the king's musicians, and gentlemen, were allowed to have harps in their possession. A gentleman's harp was not liable to be seized for debt; because the want of it would have degraded him from his rank, and reduced him to a slave.

The harp was in no less estimation and universal use among the Saxons and Danes; those who played upon this instrument, were declared gentlemen by law; their persons were esteemed inviolable, and secured from injuries by very severe penalties; they were readily admitted into the highest company, and treated with distinguished marks of respect wherever they appeared.

Scottish Music.

James the First of Scotland, whose youth was spent in captivity in England, is now, generally regarded as the inventor of that exquisite style of music, for which Scotland is so justly celebrated and admired. He is said by all our ancient chroniclers, to have been eminently skilled in music; Walter Bower assures us, that he 'excelled all mankind in the art, both vocal and instrumental.' The first writer who. speaks of him as the father of Scottish music, is Tassoni, an Italian writer, who flourished above a century after the death of James. 'We may reckon,' he says, 'among us moderns, James, King of Scotland, who not only composed many sacred pieces of vocal music, but also of himself invented a new kind of music, Plaintive and melancholy, different from all others, in which he has been imitated by Carlo Gessualdo, Prince of Venosa, who, in our age, has improved music with new and admirable inventions ('Pensieri Diversi,' lib. 10).' From this statement it is clear that at the time Tassoni wrote, James had the traditional reputation of being the inventor of 'a new kind of music;' and in representing that music as of a character 'plaintive and melancholy, different from all others,' it must be allowed, that the Italian author has described it by those features which are most distinctly characteristic of by far the greater part of the popular airs of Scotland.

It was at one time a commonly received opinion, that Rizzio, the minion of Queen Mary, had imparted to Scottish music those charms which have gained for it such general acceptance throughout the world; but this idea has long since been exploded. It does not appear that Rizzio was even a composer of any kind; he was a good fourth in a concert, but nothing more.

A strong resemblance has been observed between the music of the Welsh, the lrish, and the Scots, and yet they are all very distinguishable from one another. There is a remarkable difference of character even between the music of the north and the south of Scotland. The northern is generally martial, for the most part melancholy, and bears a strong resemblance to the Irish; the southern is pastoral and amorous, with such an air of tender melancholy, as love and solitude in a wild romantic country are apt to inspire.

Bower, who wrote in 1444-9, gives an account of the state of music in his time, and declares it as the opinion of many, that the Scottish music excelled that of the Irish; and the historian, John Major, who flourished about the latter end of the fifteenth century, asserts, that the musicians of Scotland were as perfect as those of England, although not so numerous.

The Highlanders,' says he, 'Iyra utuntur, cujus chordas ex acre, et non ex intestinis animalium faciunt, in qua dulcissime modulantur.'

In the families of the feudal chiefs, or heads of clans, in those times, the bard was a considerable personage, who, on festivals, or other solemn occasions, used to sing or rehearse the splendid actions of the ancestors of the family, accompanying his voice with the sweet sounds of the harp. At this time, too, there were itinerant or strolling minstrels, performers of the harp, who went about the country from place to place, reciting heroic ballads, and other popular episodes. To these sylvan minstrels we are perhaps indebted for the preservation of many fine old melodies.

The church music in Scotland, previous to the reformation, was of a highly respectable order. From some of the choral service books which survived the fury of the reformers, it appears to have consisted entirely of harmonic compositions, of from four to eight parts, all in strict counterpoint. Though deficient in air, such pieces were perfectly suited to the solemnities of religious adoration, and when performed by a full choir of voices, accompanied by the organ, must have had a very solemn and impressive effect.

After the reformation, it became a practice with the Scots clergy to adapt their enthusiastic rhapsodies to the tunes of the common songs, of which they, for the most part, preserved a few lines at the beginning. About the year 1590 a collection of these pieces was printed at Edinburgh by Andrew Hart, under the title of 'A compendious book of godly and spiritual Sanges, collectit out of sundrie parts of the Scripture, with sundrie of uther Ballats, changed out of prophaine Sanges, for avoiding of sinne,' &c. From this book we quote a specimen, being the first three verses of one of these godly songs, which certainly afford a curious specimen of the devotional exercises of the times.

'John come kiss me now.
John come kiss me now,
John come kiss me by and by,
And mak na mair'adow.
The Lord thy God I am,
That (John) does thee call,
John represents man
By grace celestial.
My prophets call, my preachers cry,
John come kiss me now,
John come kiss me by and by,
And mak na mair adow.'

A writer of later date, one William Geddes, minister of Wick, who published in 1683 a collection of hymns under the title of 'The Saint's Recreation,' alluding to these pious travesties, offers the following ingenious defence of them: 'I cannot omit,' says he, 'to obviate an objection which may be raised by some inconsiderate persons, which is this: "0!" say they, "we remember some of these airs or tunes were sung here before with amorous sonnets." To this I answer, first, that in this practice I have the precedent of some of the most pious, grave, and zealous divines of the kingdom, who, to very good purpose, have composed godly songs to the tunes of such old songs as these, The Bonny Broom, I'll never leave thee; We'll all go pull the Hadder; and such like; and yet without any challenge or disparagement. Secondly, it is alleged by some, and that not without some colour of reason, that many of our ayres or tunes are made by good angels, but the letter or lines of our songs by devils. We choose the part angelical, and leave the diabolical. Thirdly, it is as possible and probable that those vain profane men who composed these amorous naughty sonnets, have surreptitiously borrowed those grave sweet tunes from former spiritual hymns and songs; and why may we not again challenge our own, plead for restitution, and bring back to the right owner; applying those grave airs again to a divine and spiritual subject?'

Many fine Scots airs are to be found in the well-known collection of songs, by Tom d'Urfey, entitled, 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' published in the year 1702; nor do they seem to have suffered much, if anything, by their passing through the hands of those English masters, who were concerned in the editing of that work.

'Cold and Raw.'

The old Scotch tune of 'Cold and Raw,' was much admired by Queen Mary, the consort of King William; and she is said to have once given great offence to Purcell, by requesting to have it sung to her when he was present. Her majesty resolving to have a concert one evening, had sent to Mr. Gostling, then one of the chapel, and afterwards Subdean of St. Paul's, to Mrs. Arabella Hunt, and to Purcell, with her commands to attend her. Mr. Gostling and Mrs. Hunt sung several compositions of Purcell, who accompanied them on the harpsichord; at length the queen beginning to grow tired, asked Mrs. Hunt if she could not sing the old Scots ballad, 'Cold and Raw?' Mrs. Hunt answered, yes, and sung it to her lute. Purcell sat all the while at the harpsichord, unemployed, and not a little nettled at the queen's preference of a vulgar ballad to his music. Observing, however, how much the queen was delighted with the tune, he determined that she should hear it upon another occasion; and, accordingly, in the next birthday song, viz. that for the year 1692, he composed an air to the words,

'May her bright example chase
Vice in troops out of the land;'

the base whereof is the tune of 'Cold and Raw.' It will be found printed in the second volume of the 'Orpheus Britannicus' and is note for note the same with the Scots tune.

Nature, and French Singing.

A young Greek lady being brought from her own country to Paris, was, soon after her arrival, carried to the Opera by some French ladies, who supposed that, as she had never heard any European music, she would be in raptures with it; but, contrary to their expectations, she declared that the singing only reminded her of the hideous howlings of the Calmuc Tartars; and as to the machinery, which it was thought would afford her great amusement, she declared her dislike of many parts of it, and was particularly scandalized by what she called the impious and wicked imitation of God's thunder. Soon after this experiment she went to Venice, where another was made upon her uncorrupted ears, at an Italian Opera, in which the famous Gizziello sung, at whose performance she was quite dissolved in pleasure, and was ever after passionately fond of Italian music.

A similar experiment was tried on a native of the newly-discovered island of Otaheite, called Putavia, who had been brought to Paris by M. Bougainville, 'I wish,' said a correspondent of Dr. Burney's, 'you had been there to have observed with me what a strange impression the French Opera made upon him. As soon as he returned to his lodgings, he mimicked what he had heard in the most natural and ridiculous manner imaginable; this he would repeat only when he was in good humour; but as it was just before his departure that I saw him, he was melancholy, and would not dance, however entreated. I proposed to send for music, and one of the servants was ordered to play on his bad fiddle just without the door of the room. Upon hearing this, Putavia suddenly sprang up, and seizing two of the candlesticks, placed them on the floor, and danced his own country dance. After this he gave the company a specimen of the French Opera; which was the most natural and admirable parody I have ever heard, and accompanied with all its proper gestures. I wished at this time to try the power of Italian music upon him, but there was no opportunity; for how could it be properly executed at Paris?'

Tom d'Urfey.

Mr. Addison, in a paper in the Guardian, No. 67, after exhibiting a lively portrait of the celebrated Tom d'Urfey, whom he is pleased to call his old friend and contemporary, says, addressing himself to the ladies, that he had often made their grandmothers merry with his strains; and that his sonnets had perhaps lulled asleep many a toast among the ladies then living, when she lay in her cradle. D'Urfey was not merely a great writer of songs; for though labouring under an impediment in his speech, yet having a tolerable voice, he frequently sung his own songs at public feasts and meetings, and not seldom in the presence of King Charles II., who laying aside all state and reserve, would lean on his shoulder, and look over the paper. One of his 'Pills to Purge Melancholy' is thus entitled: 'Advice to the City; a famous Song, set to a tune of Signor Opdar, so remarkable, that I had the honour to sing it with King Charles at Windsor, he holding one part of the paper with me.' This 'Advice' is the well-known song beginning

'Remember, ye Whigs, what was formerly done.'

Nothing distinguished D'Urfey's songs more than the uncouthness and irregularity of the metre in which they are written; the modern Pindaric odes, which are humorously resembled to a comb with the teeth broken by frequent use, are nothing to them. Besides that, he was able to set English words to Italian airs, as in the instance of 'Blouzabella, my buxom Doxy,' which he made to the air of Bononcini, beginning,

'Pastorella che tra le selvei.'

He had the art of jumbling long and short quantities so dexterously together, that order resulted from confusion. Of this happy talent he has given us various specimens, in adapting songs to tunes composed in such measures, as scarcely any instrument but the drum could express; and, to be even with the musician, for giving him so much trouble, he composed songs in metres so broken and intricate that few could be found that were able to suit them with musical notes. It is said that he once challenged Purcell to set to music such a song as he should write, and gave him that wellknown ballad, 'One long Whitsun holiday;' which cost the latter more pains to fit with a tune than the composition of his 'Te Deum.'

Tom, at least in the early part of his life, was a Tory by principle, and never let slip an opportunity of representing his adversaries, the Whigs, in the most contemptible light. Mr. Addison says that the song of 'Joy to great Caesar,' gave them such a blow as they were never able to recover during the reign of King Charles II.

This song is set to a tune called 'Farinel's Ground.' Divisions were made upon it by some English master; it became a favourite tune; and D'Urfey set words to it, in which he execrates the Papists, and their attempts to disturb the peace of the kingdom. Farinelli was a Papist, a circumstance which gave occasion for a shrewd remark of Mr. Addison, that his friend Tom had made use of Italian tunes and sonatos for promoting the Protestant interest, and turned a considerable part of the Pope's music against himself.

Music and Politics.

Dr. Wise, the musician, being requested to subscribe his name to a petition against an expected prorogation of Parliament in the reign of Charles II., wittily answered, 'No, gentlemen, it is not my business to meddle with state affairs; but I'll set a tune to it, you please.'

Effects of Music on Animals.

A captain of the regiment of Navarre, being confined in prison for having spoken too freely of Louvois, the French minister, he begged leave of the governor to send for his lute, to soften his confinement. After four days' playing, he was greatly astonished to see the mice come out of their holes, and the spiders descend from their webs, and form a circle around him, as if to listen to him with the more attention. He was at first so struck with the sight that he dropped his lute, when the whole of his strange auditory instantly retired quietly into their lodgings.

On resuming the instrument, spiders and mice again crept forth and listened; and every day they increased in numbers, till at last there would be upwards of a hundred of these musical amateurs collected together. As the presence of such gentry was not at all times, however, equally agreeable, the officer procured from one of the gaolers a cat, which he shut up in a cage when he had no objections to see company, and set loose when he preferred to be alone; thus converting into a pleasant sort of comedy the passion of his mute associates for music.

'I long doubted the truth of this story,' says Sir John Hawkins, 'but it was confirmed to me by Mr. P., attendant of the Duchess of V., a man of merit and probity, who played upon several instruments with the utmost excellence. He told me that being at -, he went up into the chamber to refresh himself till supper time; he had not played a quarter of an hour, when he saw several spiders descend from the ceiling, who came and ranged themselves about the table to hear him play; at which he was greatly surprised; but this did not interrupt him, being willing to see the end of so singular an occurrence. They remained on the table till somebody came to tell him supper was ready; when having ceased to play, he told me these insects mounted to their webs, to which he would suffer no injury to be done. It was a diversion with which he often entertained himself out of curiosity.'

A still more incontestable proof of the power of music over animals, is furnished by a gentleman in the East India Company's service, who, in a letter from Patna, near Bengal, dated in 11788, speaking of the travelling Faquirs, who wander about the country, says: 'One of them called a few days ago at my house, who had a beautiful large snake in a basket, which he made to rise up, and dance to the tune of a pipe on which he played. My out-houses and farm-yard being much infested with snakes, who destroyed my poultry, and even my cattle, one of my servants asked the man if he could pipe these snakes out of their holes, and catch them? He answered in the affirmative: and being conducted to a place where a snake had been seen, he began to play on his pipe; in a short time the snake came dancing to him, and was caught. He then tried again, and had not continued five minutes, when an immense large Coune Capelle, the most venomous kind of serpent, popped his head out of a hole in the room; when the man saw it, he approached nearer, and piped more vehemently, until the snake was more than half out, and ready to dart up at him; he then piped in one hand only, and advanced the other under the snake, as it was raising itself to make a spring. When the snake sprung at him, he dexterously seized it by the tail, and held it fast until my servants despatched it. In the space of an hour, the Faquir caught five very venomous snakes close about my house '

'Think of Thy Servant.'

Josquin, a celebrated composer, was appointed master of the chapel to Louis XII. of France, who promised him a benefice, but, contrary to his usual custom, forgot him. Josquin, after suffering great inconvenience from the shortness of his majesty's memory, ventured, by a singular expedient, publicly to remind him of his promise, without giving offence. Being commanded to compose a motet for the chapel royal, he chose part of the 119th Psalm, beginning, 'Oh, think of thy servant as concerning thy word,' which he set in so supplicating and exquisite a manner, that it was universally admired, particularly by the king, who was not only charmed with music, but felt the force of the words so effectually, that he soon after granted his petition, by conferring on him the promised appointment.

Claude le Jeune.

Claude le Jeune, when at the wedding of the Duc de Joyeuse, in 1581, caused a spirited air to be sung, which so animated a gentleman present, that he clapped his hand upon his sword, and said it was impossible for him to refrain from fighting the first person he met; upon this, Le Jeune caused another air to be performed, of a more soothing kind, which soon restored him to his natural goodhumour.

Song of Birds.

Birds in a wild state do not commonly sing above ten weeks in the year, and it is the male birds alone which sing. Buffon, and some other naturalists, ascribe their singing to a desire of pleasing their mates during the period of incubation; but however agreeable to the fancy this theory may be, it cannot be reconciled with many known facts. No reason can be suggested why such an instinct, if it exists, should not be common to the whole feathered tribe, and yet by far the greater part of birds do not sing at all. Neither among those who do sing is the exercise of their vocal powers confined to periods of joy alone. Thus the nightingale often sings

Her sorrows through the night, and on the bough,
Sole sitting, still at every dying fall
Takes up again her lamentable strain
Of winding woe; till wide around the woods
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.' THOMSON.

To the human mind it seems as if few things were more calculated to silence the voice of song than the loss of liberty; yet the most vocal of birds appear to be little affected by it. An experienced catcher of nightingales assured Mr. Daines Barrington, that he has known these birds, on the instant they were caught, begin to jerk (an expression used to denote the short bursts of singing birds when they contend with each other); and he showed one which had only been a few hours in a cage, and was yet in a full roar of song. Nor has even the prospect of death itself, the power to subdue this vocal propensity. A bird which was on the point of perishing by a fire in the house where it was caged, sung till it was rescued; and another, which was unhappily starved to death, bust into an ecstasy of song just before it expired.

The continuance of the singing power in birds, when confined in a cage, is still more conclusive against the supposition of its arising from attention to their mates. It can be no inducement of this sort which makes them sing nearly the whole year round, even during the inclemency of winter; Mr. Barrington ascribes it, with great appearance of truth, to their having always plenty of food, and to the emulation inspired by the warblings of other birds confined in the same house, or stationed within hearing.

Most people who have not attended to the notes of birds, suppose that those of every species sing exactly the same notes and passages; but although there is certainly a general resemblance, many material variations may be discovered by a skilful ear; thus the London birdcatchers prefer the song of the Kentish goldfinches, and that of the Essex chaffinches; and the Surrey nightingales to those of Middlesex. These differences in the song of birds of the same species, cannot perhaps be compared to anything more apposite than the varieties of provincial dialects.

The nightingale seems to have been almost universally fixed upon as the most capital of singing birds. One reason for this preference may be, that it sings in the night; hence Shakspeare says,

'The nightingale if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.'

But independently of this adventitious recommendation, the nightingale may, on other grounds, boldly challenge a superiority to all other birds. In the first place, it is infinitely more mellow in its tone than any other bird, while it can, at the same time, by a proper exertion of its musical powers, be excessively brilliant. Mr. Barrington had one that when it sung its whole song round displayed sixteen different beginnings and closes, while the intermediate notes were commonly altered in their succession with such judgment as to produce a most pleasing variety. Most other singing birds have not above four or five changes. It is not, however, in tone and variety alone that the nightingale excels. 'It sings,' says Mr. Barrington 'if I may so express myself, with superior judgment and taste. I have commonly observed that my nightingale began softly, like the ancient orators, reserving its breath to swell certain notes, which by this means had a most astonishing effect, and which eludes all verbal description. I have, indeed, taken down certain passages which may be reduced to our musical intervals, but though by these means one may form an idea of some of the notes used, yet it is impossible to give their comparative durations in point of musical time, upon which the whole effect must depend. I once procured a very capital player on the flute to execute the notes which Kircha has engraved in his "Musurgia" as being used by the nightingale, when, from want of not being able to settle their comparative duration, it was almost impossible to observe any traces of the nightingale's song.' The last point of superiority in the nightingale which deserves notice, is the length to which it can prolong its notes. Mr. Barrington has observed his bird continue its song for not less than twenty seconds at a time, and whenever respiration became necessary, it was taken, he assures us, with as much judgment as by an opera singer.

The bird which approaches nearest to the excellence of the nightingale, in all respects, is the skylark. It would, perhaps, be more on an equality with it did it not partake so much of the nature of the American mocking bird. The skylark, even after it has become perfect in its parent note, will catch the note of any other bird which hangs near it. For this reason bird-fanciers often place the skylark next one which has not been long caught, in order, as they term it, to keep the caged skylark honest.

Almost all travellers agree that the harmony of the groves of Europe is superior to that of the other parts of the globe. The poet of the Seasons in noticing this superiority in the European birds, regards it as a sort of compensation for their great inferiority in point of gaudy plumage. The canary, which ranks so high among our caged singing birds, forms no exception to this remark. Few persons who keep Canary birds are perhaps aware that they sing chiefly either the titlark or nightingale notes. Their plumage is of a foreign clinic, but their music is altogether European.

When imported directly from the Canary islands they have seldom any song at all, nor until they have the advantage of a Tyrolese education have they the least chance of rising into estimation as singers. It is not, however, by importation that the breed is now kept up; most of the canary birds which are brought over into England from the Continent, have been educated by parents, the progenitors of which were instructed by nightingales. The traffic in these birds makes a small article of Commerce; the chief place for breeding them is Inspruck and its environs, whence they are sent to every part of Europe. In Mr. Barrington's time there were four Tyrolese, who generally brought over to England sixteen hundred every year, and though they carried them on their backs a thousand miles, as well as paid a duty of ·2o on the whole number, they made a handsome profit by selling them at five shillings a piece.

Bird Recording.

The first attempt of birds to sing is termed by the bird catchers recording, a phrase probably derived from a musical instrument formerly used in England, called a recorder. They sometimes begin to record when they are not a month old. This first essay does not seem to have the least rudiment of the future song, but as the bird grows older and stronger one may begin to perceive what the nestling is aiming at. Whilst the scholar is thus endeavouring to form his song, at every passage which he is sure of he commonly raises his tone, but drops it again when he comes to a part which exceeds his powers, just as a singer raises his voice when he not only recollects certain parts of a tune with precision, but knows that he can execute them. What the nestling is not thus thoroughly master of he hurries over, lowering his tone as if he did not wish to be heard, and could not yet satisfy himself. At the end of ten or eleven months the bird is commonly able to execute every part of his song, which, once attained, continues ever after the same.

From numerous experiments which have been made, it would appear that notes in birds are no more innate than language is in man, and that what nestlings record, or learn, depends entirety upon the master under whom they are bred. so far as their organs will enable them to imitate the sounds which they have first an opportunity of hearing. Mr. D. Barrington educated a young linnet under a vengolina, an African bird, which sings better than any of those that are not European, except the American mocking bird, and the linnet imitated its African preceptor so exactly, without any mixture of the linnet song, that it was impossible to distinguish the one from the other.

Queen Elizabeth.

Queen Elizabeth was very partial to music; indeed, she is said to have been a great player, and to have amused herself with the lute, the virginals, and the violin. She was also particularly careful to have the royal chapel furnished with the best singing boys that could be procured in the kingdom, even by an extension of the royal prerogative very discordant to modern feelings of the liberty of the subject. In Sir Hans Sloane's collection of MSS. in the British Museum, No. 87, there is a royal warrant of her majesty authorizing Thomas Gytes, master of the children of the cathedral church of St. Paul, 'to take up such apt and meet children as are most fit to be instructed and framed in the art and science of music and singing as may be had and found out within any place of this our realm of England and Wales, to be, by his education and bringing up, made meet and liable to serve us in that behalf when our pleasure is to call them.' And the said Thomas Gyles was authorized, with his deputy or deputies, 'to take up in any cathedral or collegiate church, and in every other place or places of this our realm of England and Wales, such child or children as he or they, or any of them, shall find and like of, and the same child or children, by virtue hereof, for the use and service aforesaid, with them or any of them, to bring away without any contradictions, stay, or interruptions to the contrary.'

King of the Minstrels.

Every trade and occupation in France had, formerly, a superior Coryphaeus, who was dignified with the title of King. The mercers, joiners, barbers, shoemakers, and even chimney sweeps, had their particular monarch, until exactions and tyranny by degrees occasioned the annihilation of this mock royalty. The minstrels, more tenacious and exact, observers of ancient usages, have been the last to preserve this precious image of antiquity.

It is not known who was the first sovereign of the minstrels, whose power extends to the utmost limits of the kingdom; but it is recorded, that after the death of Constantine, a famous fiddler of the seventeenth century, the crown passed, in 1630, to Dumanoir I.; afterwards to Dumanoir ll., who, by a voluntary abdication, occasioned an interregnum in 1685. This monarchy had been so long agitated and torn by foreign and domestic broils, that Louis XIV. declared it should not be revived. The dancing masters, assisted by their chief, had been pleading for fifty years against the vile artizans who dishonoured their professions, by lavishing their talents unworthily at ale-houses; and insisted on having a string of their lyre cut off, in order to reduce it to its ancient form of a rebec with three strings.

No community was ever more disunited by discords and tumults; every court of justice rang with the noise of their divisions, and their quarrels enriched the law, Whilst they impoverished themselves. The interregnum which followed the abdication of Dumanoir II., lasted from 1685 to 1741, when Guignon, remarkable for the velocity of his fingers and bow on the violin, aspiring to royalty, the king honoured him with the minstrel crown: but this election stimulating him to the assumption of those prerogatives which formerly belonged to his high station, he had his right to defend against an army of lawyers employed by musicians, particularly organists, who obtained a complete victory over him. The office was at length abolished by an edict of the king in 1773.

Farinelli.

When the celebrated Italian singer, Farinelli, attended his first private rehearsal in England in 1734, Lord Cowper, who was then the principal manager of the Opera, observing that the band did not follow him, but were all staring with wonder, desired them to be more attentive. They all confessed that they were unable to keep pace with him. having been not only disabled by astonishment, but overpowered by his talents.

Of all the excellences of Farinelli, there was none in which he so far surpassed all other singers, and astonished the public, as in the swell of his voice; which, by the natural formation of his lungs, and artificial economy of breath, he was able to protract to such a length, as to excite incredulity even in those who heard him. Some persons actually imagined that he had the latent help of some instrument by which the tone was continued, while he renewed his powers by respiration.

When Farinelli first visited the court of Philip V., King of Spain, where he became afterwards so great a favourite, that monarch was labouring under a total dejection of spirits, which rendered him incapable of attending council, or transacting the affairs of state: and had the still more singular effect of making him refuse to be shaved. The queen, who had in vain tried every common expedient that was likely to contribute to his recovery, determined that an experiment should be made of the effects of music upon the king, who was extremely sensible to its charms. Her majesty contrived that there should be a concert in a room adjoining to the king's apartment, in which Farinelli, who had never as yet performed before the king, should sing one of his most captivating songs. Philip appeared at first surprised, then moved; and at the end of the second air, called for Farinelli into the royal apartment, loaded him with compliments and caresses, asked him how he could sufficiently reward such talents, and assured him that he could refuse him nothing. Farinelli, as previously instructed, only begged that his majesty would permit his attendants to shave and dress him, and that he would endeavour to appear in council as usual. From this moment the king's disease abated; and the singer had, ere long, all the honour of effecting a complete cure. By singing to his majesty every evening, his favour increased to such a degree, that he was regarded as first minister; but what is still more extraordinary, instead of being intoxicated or giddy with his elevation, Farinelli, never forgetting that he was a musician, behaved to the Spanish nobles about the court with such humility and propriety, that instead of envying his favour, they honoured him with their esteem and confidence.

With the successor of Philip, Farinelli had the good fortune to be equally a favourite; but on the accession of Charles III., a great reverse took place. From the moment he ascended the Spanish throne, he never would suffer any Italian opera to be performed, either at Madrid or Aranjuez. Some of the grandees spoke to his majesty in favour of Farinelli, and were so generous as to recommend him as a truly honest man, who had never abused the confidence of their former masters, but constantly employed his credit to do all the good that was in his power. His majesty owned that all this was very well; but would, on no account, hear of his remainin-, in Spain. He was pleased, however, to order him a pension of two thousand doubloons. To some person who, after the departure of Farinelli, asked the king if he ever intended to order an opera for the diversion of the queen, who loved music? he sternly replied, Ni agora ni nunca; 'Neither now nor ever.'

Among many instances which are recorded of Farinelli's benevolence of disposition while resident at the court of Spain, there is perhaps none which gives a better insight into his character, than one of which his tailor was the hero. Having ordered a superb suit of clothes for a gala at court, the tailor brought it home, and he asked him for his bill. 'I have made no bill, sir,' says the tailor, 'nor shall I ever make one; but instead of money, I have to beg a favour. I know that what I ask is inestimable, and a gift worthy of a monarch; but since I have had the honour to work for a person of whom every one speaks with rapture, all the payment I shall ever require will be a song.' Farinelli tried in vain to prevail on the tailor to take his money. At length, after a long debate, giving way to the humble entreaties of the trembling tradesman, and flattered perhaps more by the singularity of the adventure than by all the applauses he had hitherto received, he took him into his music-room, and sung to him some of his most brilliant airs, taking pleasure in the astonishment of his ravished hearer; and the more he seemed surprised and affected, the more Farinelli exerted himself in every species of excellence. When he had done, the tailor, overcome with ecstasy, thanked him in the most rapturous and graceful manner, and prepared to retire. 'No,' says Farinelli, 'I am a little proud; and it is perhaps from that circumstance that I have acquired some small degree of superiority over other singers; I have given way to your weakness; it is but fair that, in your turn, you should indulge me in mine.' And taking out his purse, he insisted on his receiving a sum amounting to nearly double the worth of the suit of clothes.

Handel.

Handel, the most sublime musical genius that any age or country has produced, was a native of Halle, in Upper Saxony. Like most eminent musicians, he exhibited a remarkable precocity of talents [see Anecdotes of Youth], so that while boys in general were learning the rudiments of the art, he had entitled himself to the rank of Professor; and was actually composer to the Opera at Hamburg, when he was in his fifteenth year.

After passing his early life on the continent, caressed and honoured at every court he visited, Handel fixed himself in England in the year 1712, where he, ere long, attained the very summit of fame by his oratorios.

In the early part of the reign of George I, a project was formed by the nobility, for erecting a musical academy in the Haymarket, with a view to secure a constant supply of operas, to be composed by Handel, and performed under his direction. There was, however, a strong party against Handel, and in favour of the Italians Buononcini and Attilio, who were composers for the Opera. In 1720, Handel obtained leave to perform his opera of Radamisto, which was received with the most extravagant applause. The crowds and tumults which had attended the performance of his operas at Venice, were hardly equal to those in London. Many ladies, who had forced their way into the house with an impetuosity but ill suited to their rank and sex, actually fainted through the excessive heat and closeness of it. Several gentlemen were turned back, who had offered forty shillings for a seat in the gallery, after having despaired of getting any in the pit or boxes.

The attempt to establish Handel's opera, produced great heats between his partizans, and those of Attilio and Buononcini. The succeeding winter brought this musical disorder to its crisis. In order to terminate all matters in controversy, it was agreed to put them on this fair issue. The several parties concerned were to be jointly employed in making an opera, in which each of them was to take a distinct act. And he who, by the general suffrage, should be allowed to have given the best proofs of his abilities, was to be put into possession of the house. The proposal was accepted, whether from choice or necessity is not certain. The event was answerable to the expectations of Handel's friends. His act was the last, and the superiority of it so very manifest, that there was not the least pretence for any further doubts or disputes. It should be mentioned, that as each made an overture, as well as an act, the affair seemed to be decided even by the overture with which Handel's began. The name of the opera was Muzio Scaevola.

The management of the Opera was, however, of no pecuniary advantage to Handel; on the contrary, after spending all he had on the concern, he was compelled to relinquish it. By employing his talents in composing operas for Covent Garden Theatre, he somewhat retrieved his affairs, though his prosperity was soon clouded by an indifference on the part of the public, which made him decide on visiting Dublin.

The conduct of the public on this occasion is happily stigmatized by Pope in his 'Dunciad.' He introduces the Italian muse (a lingering attachment to which, was the great obstacle to Handel's success) in the character of a female wanton, who, with mincing steps, languid eye, and fluttering attire, is attended by two singing peers, ever and anon exclaiming,

'0 Cara! 0 Cara! silence all that train,' &c

The muse proceeds to assert her pretensions; and after a great deal of boasting, thus concludes--

'But soon, ah! soon, rebellion will commence,
If music meanly borrows aid from sense;

Strong in new arms, lo! 'giant Handel stands,
Like bold Briareus, with an hundred hands;

To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes,
And Jove's own thunders follow Mars's drums.'

The poet then apostrophizing the goddess Dulness, exclaims,

'Arrest him, Empress, or you sleep no more,
She heard, and drove him to the Hibernian shore.'

Handel remained eight or nine months in Ireland, where he extended his fame, and began to repair his fortune. The Messiah, now allowed to be the best of all his compositions, was listened to with rapture by the citizens of Dublin, although it had experienced but a cold reception in London. The news of the success of that unparalleled composition in the sister kingdom, opened the ears of the English; and it afterwards gained so rapidly on their esteem, as soon to become, what it well deserve to be, the greatest of their musical favourites.

On Handel's return to London, in the beginning Of 1742, as he had relinquished all thoughts of opposing the managers of the Opera, former enmities began to subside; and, when he recommenced his oratorios at Covent Garden, the Lent following, he found a general disposition in the public to countenance and support him. Samson was the first he performed that year, which was not only much applauded by crowded houses in the capital, but was soon disseminated, in single songs, throughout the kingdom.

Ever since the English public were first awakened to a sense of the solemnities of the Messiah, this great work has been heard in all parts of the kingdom with increasing reverence and delight; it has fed the hungry, clothed the naked, fostered the orphan, and enriched succeeding managers of oratorios, more than any single musical production in this or any other country. This sacred oratorio, as it was first called, on account of the words being wholly composed of genuine texts of Scripture, appearing to stand in such high estimation with the public, Handel, actuated by motives of the purest benevolence and humanity, formed the laudable resolution of performing it annually for the benefit of the Foundling Hospital; which resolution was constantly put in practice to the end of his life, under his own direction; and, long after, under that of Mr. Smith and Mr. Stanley. In consequence of these performances, the benefactions to the charity from the years 1749 to 1759, by eleven performances under Handel's own direction, amounted to £6935 0 0 From 1760 to 1768, by eight performances under the conduct of Mr. John Christian Smith. 1332 0 0 From 1769 to 1777, nine performances under that of Mr. Stanley 2032 0 0 £10,299 0 0

The organ in the chapel of this hospital was likewise a present from Handel; and he bequeathed, as a legacy to this charity, a fair copy of the original score of the Messiah.

From the period of his quitting Ireland, he continued his oratorios to the time of his death; though late in life, like the great poets, Homer and Milton, he was afflicted by blindness; which, however it might dispirit and embarrass him at other times, had no effect on his nerves or intellects in public, as he continued to play concertos and voluntaries between the parts of his oratorios to the last, with the same vigour of thought and touch, for which he was ever so justly renowned. To see him, however, led to the organ, after this calamity, at upwards of seventy years of age, and then conducted towards the audience, to make his accustomed obeisance, was a sight so truly afflicting to persons of sensibility, as greatly diminished their pleasure in hearing him perform.

During the oratorio season, he practised almost incessantly; which must have been the case, or his memory uncommonly retentive. At last, however, he rather chose to trust to his inventive powers, than those of reminiscence; for giving the band only the skeleton or ritornels of each movement, he played all the solo parts extempore, while the other instruments left him ad libitum, waiting for a signal of a shake, before they played such fragments of a symphony as they found in their books.

Indeed, he not only continued to perform in public, after he was afflicted with blindness, but to compose in private; for we have been assured, that the duet and chorus in Judas Maccabaes, of

Sion now his head shall raise.
Tune your harps to songs of praise,

were dictated to Mr. Smith, by Handel, after the total privation of sight.

The last-oratorio at which he attended and performed, was on the 6th of April, and he expired on the 13th, 1759.

Handel being only a musician, was obliged to employ some person to write his operas and oratorios, which accounts for their being so very defective as poetical compositions. One of those versifiers employed by him, once ventured to suggest, in the most respectful manner, that the music he had composed to some lines of his, was quite contrary to the sense of the passage. Instead of taking this friendly hint as he ought to have done, from one who (although not a Pindar) was at least a better judge of poetry than himself, he looked upon the advice as injurious to his talents, and cried out, with all the violence of affronted pride, 'What! you teach me music? The music is good music: confound your Words! - Here,' said he, thrumming his harpsichord, 'are my ideas; go and make words to them.'

Handel became afterwards the proprietor of the Opera-house, London; and presided at the harpsichord in the orchestra (piano-fortes not being then known). His embellishments were, so masterly, that the attention of the audience was frequently diverted from the singing to the accompaniment, to the frequent mortification of the vocal professors. A pompous Italian singer was, on a certain occasion, so chagrined at the marked attention paid to the harpsichord, in preference to his own singing, that he swore, that if ever Handel played him a similar trick, he would jump down upon his instrument, and put a stop to the interruption. Handel, who had a considerable turn for humour, replied: 'Oh ! oh! you vil jump, vil you? very vell, sare; be so kind, and tell me de night ven you vill jump, and I vil advertishe it in de bills; and I shall get grate dale more money by your jumping, than I shall get by your singing.'

When George the Third was a child, he was frequently taken into the music-room at Leicester-house, which belonged to his royal mother, the Princess Dowager of Wales. Handel observing that the little prince was very attentive to his oratorio music, exclaimed, when the prince on one occasion had crept close to the double bass and organ, 'Ah! dat litel prince vil keep ub my music ven I am det and gone.' This prophecy was verified for the king did not relish later compositions; and Handel's music used to be performed to him by the Queen's band every evening at Windsor Castle, after the usual promenade on the Terrace.

Although he lived much with the great, Handel was no flatterer. He once told a member of the royal family, who asked him how he liked his playing on the violoncello? 'Vy, sir, your highness plays like a Prince!;' When the same prince had prevailed upon him to hear a minuet of his own composition, which he played himself on the violoncello, Handel heard him out very quietly; but when the prince told him, that he would call in his band to play it to him, that he might hear the full effect of his composition, Handel could contain himself no longer, and ran out of the room crying, 'Worsher and worsher, upon mine honour.'

One Sunday, having attended divine worship at a country church, Handel asked the organist to permit him to play the people out; to which, with a politeness characteristic of the profession, the organist consented. Handel accordingly sat down to the organ, and began to play in such a masterly manner, as instantly to attract the attention of the whole congregation, who instead of vacating their seats as usual, remained for a considerable space of time, fixed in silent admiration. The organist began to be impatient (perhaps his wife was waiting dinner); and at length addressing the performer, told him that he was convinced that he could not play the people out, and advised him to relinquish the attempt; which being done, a few strains in the accustomed manner operated like the reading of the Riot Act.

Commemoration of Handel.

The grandest and most extensive musical exhibition ever witnessed, was that at Westminster Abbey, in honour of Handel, on the centenary of his birth, in the year 1784. The plan originated in a conversation between Viscount Fitzwilliam, Sir Watkins Williams Wynne, and John Bates, Esq., who remarking that the number of eminent musical performers of all kinds, in London, both vocal and instrumental, had no, public occasion for collecting and consolidating them into one band, formed the project of uniting them in a performance of the most magnificent scale, and such as no part of the world could equal.

Such was the reverence for the 'Memory of Handel,' that no sooner was the project known, than most of the practical musicians in the kingdom eagerly manifested their zeal by offering their services; while many of the most eminent professors, waving all claims to precedence in the band, offered to perform in any subordinate station in which their talents might be most useful.

The governors of the Musical Fund, and the directors of the Concert of Ancient Music, readily gave the plan their support; and his majesty, hearing of the design, honoured it with his sanction and patronage. Mr. James Wyatt, the architect, was appointed to superintend the fitting up of Westminster Abbey on the occasion, like a royal musical chapel, with the orchestra terminating one end, and the accommodation for the royal family at the other.

In order to render the band as powerful and complete as possible, it was determind to employ every species of instrument that was capable of producing grand effects in a great orchestra and spacious building. Among these, the sacbut, or double trumpet, was sought; but so many years had elapsed since it was used in this kingdom, that neither the instrument nor a performer upon it could easily be found. After much useless enquiry not only in England, but by letters on the continent, it was discovered that in his majesty's military band there were six musicians who played the three several species of sacbut; tenor, bass, and double bass.

The performances were fixed on the 26th, 27th, and 29th May, and it was determined that the profits of the first day should be divided between the Musical Fund and the Westminster Infirmary; those of the subsequent days, to be applied to the use of the Foundling Hospital, to which Handel, when living, was a liberal contributor.

Westminster Abbey was so judiciously fitted up, and the places for the musicians and the public so admirably arranged, that the whole corresponded with the architecture of this venerable structure; and there was nothing visible, either for use or ornament, that did not harmonize with the principal tone of the building. The orchestra was so well contrived, that almost every performer, both vocal and instrumental, was in full view of the conductor and leader.

Few circumstances will seem more astonishing to veteran musicians, than that there was but one general rehearsal for each day's performance; an indisputable proof of the high state of cultivation to which practical music has attained in this country. At the first of these rehearsals in the Abbey, more than five hundred persons found means to obtain admission. This intrusion, which was very much to the dissatisfaction of the managers and conductor, suggested the idea of turning the eagerness of the public to some profitable account for the charity, by fixing the price of admission to the rehearsal, at half a guinea each person.

On the subsequent rehearsals, the audience was very numerous, and rendered the whole so popular, as to increase the demand for tickets for the grand performance so rapidly, that it was found necessary to close the subscription. Many families, as well as individuals, were attracted to the capital by this celebrity; and it was never remembered to have been so full, except at the coronation of his late majesty. Many of the performers came from the remotest part of the kingdom at their own expense, so eager were they to offer their services on this occasion.

The commemoration of Handel is not only the first instance of a band of such magnitude being assembled together, but of any band at all numerous, performing in a similar situation, without the assistance of a manu conductor, to regulate the measure: and yet the performances were no less remarkable for the multiplicity of voices and instruments employed, than for accuracy and precision. 'The pulsations in every limb,' says Dr. Burney, 'and ramifications of veins and arteries in an animal, could not be more reciprocal and isochronous, or more under the regulation of the heart, than the members of this body of musicians under that of the conductor and leader. The totality of sound seemed to proceed from one voice and one instrument; and its powers produced not only new and exquisite sensations in judges and lovers of the art, but were felt by those who never received pleasure from music before.'

Town and Country.

It is natural to suppose that persons living in the country must know more of the music of the groves, than such as have never wandered beyond the sound of Bow bells; and yet, strange as it may seem, the fact is precisely the reverse. Mr. Daines Barrington, who, more than perhaps any other writer, has made the music of birds a subject of philosophical enquiry. says, 'I am almost convinced (though it may seem rather paradoxical) that the inhabitants of London distinguish more accurately, and know more on this head, than other parts of this island taken together.

'This seems to arise from two causes.

'The first is, that we have not more musical ideas which are innate, than we have of language: and, therefore, those even who have the happiness to have organs which are capable of receiving a gratification from this sixth sense (as it has been called by some), require, however, the best instruction.

'The orchestra of the opera, which is confined to the metropolis, has diffused a good style of playing over the other bands of the capital, which is by degrees communicated to the fiddler and the ballad singer in the streets. The organs in every church, as well as those of the Savoyards, contribute likewise to this improvement of musical faculties in the Londoners.

If the singing of the ploughman in the country, is therefore compared with that of the London artisan, the superiority is infinitely on the side of the latter; and the same may be observed in comparing the voice of a country girl, and London housemaid, as it is very uncommon to hear the former sing tolerably in tune.

'I do not mean by this to assert, that the inhabitants of the country are not born with as good musical organs, but only that they have not the same opportunities of learning from others who play in tune themselves.

'The other reason for the inhabitants of London judging better in relation to the song of birds, arises from their hearing each bird sing distinctly, either in their own or their neighbours' shops; as also from a bird continuing much longer in song whilst in a cage than when at liberty.

'Those who live in the country, on the other hand, do not hear birds sing in their woods for above two months in the year, when the confusion of notes prevents their attending to the song of any particular bird: nor does he continue long enough in a place for the hearer to recollect his notes with accuracy.

'Besides this, birds in the spring sing very loud indeed; but they only give short jerks, and scarcely ever the whole compass of their song.

'For these reasons, I have never happened to meet with any person, who had not resided in London, whose judgment or opinion on this subject I could the least rely upon.'

Bell Ringing.

The practice of ringing bells in change is said to have been originally peculiar to England, but the antiquity of it is not easily to be traced. Some of the most celebrated peals now known are not, however, of ancient date; having been composed about seventy years ago, by one Patrick, who was a maker of barometers in London.

Holland and the Low Countries are famed for their carillons or chimes. Dr. Burney, in the course of his travels in these countries, made the carillon science an object of very articular enquiry; but from the information he has collected respecting it, we are inclined to think with him that it must, after all, be a very 'Gothic invention,' and in most barbarous taste.' 'I soon found,' says Dr. B., 'that the chimes in those countries had a greater number of bells than those of the largest peal in England; but when I mounted the belfry (of Ghent) I was astonished at the great quantity of bells I saw; in short, there was a complete series or scale of tones and semi-tones, like those on the harpsichord or organ. The carilloneur was literally at work, and hard work indeed it must be; he was in his shirt, with collar unbuttoned, and in a violent sweat. There are pedals communicating with the great bells, upon which, with his feet, he played the bass to several sprightly and rather difficult airs, performed with his two hands upon an upper range of keys, communicating with the lesser bells, as those of the harpsichord and organ do with strings and pipes. These keys are projecting sticks, wide enough asunder to be struck with violence and velocity by either of the two hands edgeways, without the danger of hitting the neighbouring keys. The player has a thick leather covering for the little finger of each hand, otherwise it would be impossible for him to support the pain which the violence of the stroke necessary to be given to each key, in order to its being distinctly heard throughout a very large town, requires.' One might imagine that such Herculean labour could fall to the portion only of some hewer of wood, or drawer of water; and it is with equal surprise and regret that we read of a man of such undoubted genius as the late M. Pothoff, doomed to spend his life in the degrading employment of carilloneur to the Stadthuys or town house of Amsterdam. M. Pothoff was deprived of his sight by the small pox, when seven years of age; and this misfortune first suggested to his friends the thought of making music, which had hitherto afforded him no pleasure, his profession. It was not long before he began to take delight in his new pursuit, and he made such progress that at the age of thirteen, he was elected to the office of carilloneur. Dr. Burney, who had heard him play with great effect on the organ, thus describes his performance on the bells. 'He had very much astonished me,' he says, 'on the organ, after all I had heard through the rest of Europe; but in playing those bells, his amazing dexterity raised my wonder much higher, for he executed with his two hands passages that would be very difficult to play with the ten fingers; shakes, beats, swift divisions, triplets, and even arpeggios, he has contrived to vanquish.' 'I sometimes forgot both the difficulty and the defects of the instrument; he never played in less than three parts, marking the bass and the measure constantly with the pedals. I never heard a greater variety of passages in so short a time; he produced effects by the pianos and fortes, and the crescendo in the shake, both as to loudness and velocity, which I did not think possible upon an instrument that seemed to require little other merit than force in the performer. Yet surely this was a barbarous invention, and there is barbarity in the continuance of it. If M. Pothoff had been put into Dr. Dominicetti's hottest human cauldron for an hour, he could not have perspired more violently than he did after a quarter of an hour of this furious exercise. He stripped to his shirt, put on his night cap, and trussed up his sleeves for this execution; and he said he was forced to go to bed the instant it was over in order to prevent his catching cold, as well as to recover himself; he being usually too much exhausted as to be utterly unable to speak.

'The great convenience,' says Dr. Burney, of this kind of music, is, that it entertains the inhabitants of a whole town, while they are going about their ordinary occupations; but the want of something to stop the vibration of each bell at the pleasure of the player, like the valves of an organ, and the red cloth in the jerks of an harpsichord, is an intolerable defect to a cultivated ear; for, by the notes of one passage perpetually running into another, everything is rendered so inarticulate and confused, as to occasion a very disagreeable jargon.'

Besides these carillons a clavies, the Dutch and Flemings have also chimes played by clockwork. 'There is scarce a church,' says Dr. Burney, 'belonging to the Calvinists in Amsterdam, without its chimes, which not only play the same tunes every quarter of an hour for three months together, without their being changed; but by the difference of clocks, one has scarce five minutes quiet in the four-and-twenty hours, from these corals for grown gentlemen. In a few days' time I had so thorough a surfeit of them, that in as many months I really believe, if they had not first deprived me of hearing, I should have hated music in general.'

Musical Mimicry.

It is related of a gentleman who resided in London some years ago, that he possessed such extraordinary musical talents, that he could play upon two violins at one time, and imitate the French horn, clarionet, organ, and trumpets, in so astonishing a manner, as to make them appear a whole band, with the sound of different people singing at the same time. The pieces of music which he played were principally from Handel's oratorios. His imitative faculty was not confined to musical instruments. He could imitate a carpenter sawing and planing wood, the mail coach horn, a clap of thunder, a fly buzzing about a window, a flock of sheep with dogs after them, a sky-rocket going off, the tearing of a piece of cloth, the bagpipes, and the hurdy-gurdy. He generally finished his performance with the representation of beating a dog out of the room, which was accounted the most difficult, and, at the same time, the most natural imitation of all.

Mozart's Childhood.

When Mozart, at six years of age, made his first musical tour through Germany, the Elector of Bavaria, by way of encouraging the boy, told him that he had nothing to fear from his august presence. 'Oh,' said the child, with great smartness, 'I have played before the empress.' Her majesty was one of the first who took notice of his extraordinary talents, and used to place him upon her knees while he played at the harpsichord.

When Mozart, two years afterwards, visited England, he published at London same sonatas for the harpsichord, which he dedicated to the queen, subscribing himself, 'Tres humble et tres obeissant petit serviteur.'

Mr. Daines Barrington having been informed that this youthful prodigy was often visited with musical ideas, to which, even in the midst of the night, he would give utterance on the harpsichord, told M. Mozart, the father, that he would be glad to hear some of the child's extemporary compositions. The father, says Mr. Barrington, 'shook his head at this, saying, that it depended entirely upon his being, as it were, musically inspired; but that I might ask him a if he was in a humour for such a composition.

'Happening to know that little Mozart was much taken notice of by Manzoli, the famous singer, who came over to England in 1764, I said to the boy, that I should be glad to hear an extemporary love song, such as his friend Manzoli might choose at the opera.

'The boy, (who continued to sit at the harpsichord), on this looked back with much archness, and immediately began five or six lines of a jargon recitative, proper to introduce a love song. He then played a symphony, which might correspond with an air played to the single word Affetto. It had a first and second part, which, with the symphonies, was of the length that opera songs generally last. If this extemporary composition was not amazingly capital, yet it was really above mediocrity, and showed most extraordinary readiness of invention. Finding that he was in humour, and as it were inspired, I then desired him to compose a song, such as might be proper for the opera stage. The boy again looked back with much archness, and began five or six lines of a jargon recitative, proper to precede a song, of anger. The word he pitched upon for his second extemporary composition was Perfido.

This lasted also about the same time with the song of love; and in the middle of it he had worked himself up to such a pitch, that he beat his harpsichord like a person possessed.'

After leaving England, young Mozart visited, among other courts, that of the Prince of Saltzburgh. His highness not believing that such masterly pieces as those which Mozart played to him, as of his own composition, could really be the production of so mere a child, shut him up for a week, during which he was not permitted to see any one, and was left only with music paper and the words of an oratorio. In that short space of time, he composed a very capital oratorio, which completely set at rest every doubt as to his extraordinary talents.

Exharmonic Difficulty.

In a part of the trio between the Parcae, in the opera of Hippolitus, there is a stroke of the exharmonic of such difficult performance, that it could never be executed in the opera house at Paris, though Monsieur Rousseau assures us, 'it has been performed in other places by the consent and desire of the musicians, and had a surprising effect.' He assures us farther, that 'this kind of music met with an applause that shook the very earth; but he was so ill-used, as to be obliged to change it into common music.' Rousseau, however, declares himself of opinion, 'that a piece of music modulated in this manner, even let the execution be the most perfect, cannot have the smallest merit.'

Music Painting.

Clement Jannequin, a French composer, who flourished in the early part of the sixteenth century, appears to have been the first to represent the clangour of arms, and the imitation of a battle by music. A more successful attempt at what may be called music painting, was made in London in 1783, by M. Kloefler. Jannequin endeavoured to do it by vocal music; but M. Kloefler, a German musician of genius, knowledge, and experience, undertook to introduce by instruments in a kind of musical pantomime, every circumstance belonging to an army, even to a council of war. It is said that the composer, with the assistance of an excellent band, kept his word in the most essential parts of his promise; much good music, much ingenuity of imitation, and far greater effects produced by musical painting, than was conceived possible.

But even this effort at imitative music has been far exceeded since, by the Bataglia of Signor Raimondi; and within the last few years, by the Battle Sinfonia of Beethoven, both of which have been often performed and justly applauded, not only for the intelligence and ingenuity with which military sensations have been excited, and military scenes described, but as elegant and agreeable compositions.

Power of Music in Battle.

Music has sometimes the effect of inspiring courage in the most timid dispositions, and thus even triumphing over nature. An old officer who served under the Duke of Marlborough, was naturally so timid, as to show the utmost reluctance to an engagement, until he heard the drums and trumpets; when his spirits were raised to such a degree, that he became most ardent to be engaged with the enemy, and would then expose himself to the utmost dangers.

'Monsieur Tres Mauvais.'

Volumir, who was by birth a Frenchman, possessed no particular talent as a composer, but was an excellent player on the violin. In 1713, he went from Berlin to Dresden, as leader of the concert. He possessed considerable discrimination in the choice of the hose which had a particular effect he placed in great order on music shelves; and over every department was written in large characters, the name of the composer. Such pieces, however, as had not undergone the ordeal, or had been rejected, he placed in a separate drawer, and wrote over them tres mauvais. After his death, when his music was to be sold in Dresden, a Polish musician inspected them, and was not a little astonished to behold so extensive a collection of celebrated masters. The lower department, however, from its superior bulk, attracted his attention most, and he was heard to exclaim, 'Ah! Monsieur Tres Mauvais, M. Tres Mauvais, very great composer indeed; composed more than all the rest put together!'

Arranging Precedence.

The lady of Sir Robert Walpole, enchanted with the strains and popularity of the two most celebrated Italian singers of the day, Cuzzoni and Faustini, invited them to assist at a concert at her house. The nobility who were present gave their hostess little trouble about precedence; but to prevail on either of the opera singers to relinquish the pas, was found impossible. In this dilemma, Lady Walpole very ingeniously invited Faustini to accompany her to a remote part of the house, under pretence of showing her some beautiful china; and during their absence, the company obtained a song from Cuzzoni, who supposed that her rival had quitted the field. A similar expedient was used with equal success to obtain the happiness of a song from Faustini.

The Hindostan Girl.

An officer in the East Indies, previous to his departure for England, being desirous of restoring to her parents an Hindoo girl, who had lived for several years in his family, sent her to them in a palanquin, some days' journey up the country. The girl was extremely attached to her master, and was so affected at parting with him, that, according to the relation of the bearers of the palanquin, she could not be prevailed on to receive any sustenance during the journey, and was incessantly singing a plaintive Hindoo air, to words expressive of her attachment. The air has since found its way to this country, and has been published, with English words adapted to it by Mrs. Opie.

Musical Infant.

In 1788, a musical prodigy of the name of Sophia Hoffman attracted the notice of the scientific and the curious. This child, when only nine months old, discovered so violent an attachment to musical sounds, that if taken out of a room where any person was playing on an instrument, it was frequently impossible to appease her but by bringing her back. The nearer she was carried to the performer the more delighted she appeared, and would often clap her little hands together in accurate time. Her father, who was a musician, cultivated her infantine genius so successfully that when she was a year and three-quarters old, she could play a march, a lesson, and two or three songs with tolerable correctness, and when two years and a half old, she could play several tunes. If she ever struck a wrong note, she did not suffer it to pass, but immediately corrected herself.

Eccentric Concert.

In the reign of Charles IX. of France music was much patronized, and Mersennus gives a curious description of a viol, sufficiently spacious to contain young pages, who sung treble to the airs, while he who played the bass part on the viol, sting the tenor in order to form a complete concert in three parts.

Deaf and Dumb Amateur.

It is a singular fact that the deaf and dumb are not excluded from the pleasures arising from music; a remarkable proof of this is related of an artist of the name of Arrowsmith, a member of the Royal Academy, who resided some months at Winnington, about the year 1816, exercising his profession of a miniature and portrait painter. 'He was', says Mr. Chippindale of Winnick, who relates the anecdote, 'quite deaf. It will scarcely be credited that a person thus circumstanced should be fond of music, but this was the case with Mr. Arrowsmith. He was at a gentleman's glee club, of which I was president at that time, and as the glees were sung he would place himself near some article of wooden furniture, or a partition, door, or window-shutter, and would fix the extreme end of his finger-nails, which he kept rather long, upon the edge of some projecting part of the wood, and there remain until the piece under performance was finished, all the time expressing by the most significant gestures, the pleasure he felt in the perception of musical sounds. He was not so much pleased with a solo as with a pretty full clash of harmony; and if the music was not very good, or rather, if it was not correctly performed, he would not show the slightest sensation of pleasure. But the most extraordinary circumstance in this case is that he was evidently most delighted with those passages in which the composer displayed his science in modulating the different keys. When such passages happened to be executed with precision, he could scarcely repress the emotions of pleasure which he received within any bounds, for the delight he evinced seemed to border on ecstasy. This was expressed most remarkably at our club, when the glee was sung with which we often conclude; it is by Stevens, and begins with the words, "Ye spotted snakes," from Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. In the second stanza, on the words "Weaving spiders come not here," there is some modulation of the kind above alluded to, and here Mr. Arrowsmith would be in raptures, such as would not be exceeded by any one who was in immediate possession of the sense of hearing.'

West Indian Harper.

In an old history of Barbadoes by Richard Ligon, we meet with the following curious passage. Being at St. Iago, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, belonging to the Portuguese, he says, 'Dinner being over, in comes an old fellow, his head and beard milk-white, his countenance bold and cheerful, a lute in his hand, and played us for a novelty the passam sares galliard, a tune in great esteem in Harry the IVth's dayes, for when Sir John Falstaffe makes his amours to Mistress Doll Tearsheet, Sneake and his company, the admired fiddlers of that age, played this tune, which put a thought into my head, that if time and tune be the composites of musick, what a long time this tune had in sayling from England to this place; but we being sufficiently satisfied with this kind of harmony, descried a song which he performed in as antique a manner, both savouring much of antiquity - no graces, double relishes, trillos. gropos, or piano-fortes, but plain as a pack-staff; his lute, too, was but of ten strings, and that was a fashion in King David's dayes, so that the rarity of this antique piece pleased me beyond measure.

Haydn.

When Haydn, while yet a chorister boy in the cathedral of Vienna [see Anecdotes of Youth], commenced the study of musical composition, he had no other guide than an old treatise on harmony, which he had picked up at a stall. But, as he used often to declare it was from being thus early thrown on the resources of his own mind that he learned his chief effects in harmony. He was but nineteen years of age when he left the cathedral, or rather was expelled from it, for cutting off the train of one of the boy's gowns. An old admirer of his chaunting, one Keller, a hairdresser, gave him shelter under his roof; and Haydn, in return, married the benevolent hairdresser's daughter. Shortly after, he removed to more convenient apartments in another house, where he had the singular felicity of having the first dramatic poet of the continent for his fellow-lodger, the renowned Metastasio, through whose friendly aid he acquired a competent knowledge not only of the Italian language, but of literature and the arts. It was here, and when in his twentieth year, that Haydn composed the first of those quartettos for which his name is so celebrated; it became immediately popular in Vienna, and was soon followed by others of still greater merit.

For six years Haydn and Metastasio had lived under the same roof, in habits of the closest intimacy, when a sinfonia in la sol re 3/4, which has since been much celebrated, caught the ear of the old Prince Antoine Esterhazy, and Haydn was taken into his service.

The next inheritor of the title, Prince Nicolas, was a still more ardent amateur. His passion was for the barytone, an instrument toned between the tenor and the bass, and it gives a curious idea of the idle devotement of an Austrian prince's life, to mention that Haydn's duty was to leave every day a new composition for this Gothic instrument on the prince's desk. He had now found the situation fitted for the development, and, in some degree, for the reward of his great faculties. His life was that of a student, tranquil, uniform, and diligent. He rose early, and with a piano by the side of his table, composed in general until dinner. The evening was given up to rehearsals or to the opera, which was performed in the palace four times a week or to visiting. He was here at the head of an admirable orchestra, in one of the noblest mansions in Germany, in the midst of comforts, which his former life rendered luxuries, and in growing fame through the world. Such was Haydn's quiet lot for no less a period than thirty years.

The most liberal offers had been repeatedly made to Haydn from the principal opera theatres in Europe; but his love of ease and his attachment to the service of his patron retained him in Hungary. The death of Prince Nicolas in 1789 at length unsettled his resolution, and in 1790 he came to London on an engagement with Salomon, the violinist, to compose for twenty concerts at fifty guineas each. Haydn was then fifty-nine years old. He remained in this country but one year, and after visiting some of the other capitals of Europe, returned to Vienna, where he died. [For other anecdotes of this distinguished musician, [see Anecdotes of Youth, Genius, and Imagination.]

London Cries.

In the year 1600 there was published a miscellaneous musical work entitled Pamatelia, in a quarto volume, consisting of catches and roundelays of three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten parts in one; this work was reprinted in 1618. It was compiled by some eminent musicians, who had a practice of setting the Cries of London to music, retaining only the very musical notes of them. In the collection entitled the Pamatelia, is a round to the cry of 'New Oysters,' 'Have you any Wood to cleave.' Orlando Gibbons set music of four parts to the cries in his time, among which is one of a play. Morley set those of the Milliners' Girls, in the New Exchange, in the Strand, which was built in the reign of James I. and pulled down towards the latter end of last century; among these are 'Italian falling Bands,' 'French Garters,' 'Rabatos,' a kind of ruff, 'Nun's Thread,' &c. &c. In a play called Tarquin and Lucrece, some of the music of the following cries occur: 'A Marking Stone,' 'Bread and Meat for the poor Prisoners,' 'Rock Samphire,' 'A Hassock for your Pew,' 'Lanthorn and Candlelight,' &c. &c.

The Cries of London, mentioned by Grainger, differed materially from those of the preceding reigns; they were regular merry songs, and well engraved.

Adventures of Telemachus.

In the year 1777, Raimondi gave a very singular concert at Amsterdam, the design of it being to represent to the ear, the adventures of Telemachus. The parts were distributed in the following manner: Telemachus, first violin; mentor, violoncello, Calypso, flute; Eucharis, a nymph of Calypso, the hautboy; the rest of the nymphs were other wind instruments. The piece began with a symphony, which, in the usual way, expressed a storm; upon which followed a duet, with accompaniments, between the violin and violoncello, viz. Telemachus and Mentor rejoicing at their preservation. Calypso appears, and lisping on the flute, conducts the youth to her grotto. The remaining nymphs made tutti, which was sometimes interrupted by a solo on the hautboy, to express that Eucharis was also enamoured of Telemachus; thus it went on until the whole orchestra expressed the burning of a ship. The wind instruments played alternate solos, to accord with the complaints and tears of Calypso.

Imperial Family of Austria.

The imperial family of Austria has always been remarkable for its attachment to musical studies; and besides many excellent performers, has produced one composer, at least, who has done honour to the science. The Electress-Dowager of Saxony, daughter of the Emperor, Charles VII., was celebrated over all Europe for the talents, and the progress she had made in the arts, of which she was constant protectress. Her Highness was both a poet and musician; and played, sung, and composed in a style of excellence which but few amateurs arrive at. Her principal productions were two operas in Italian, Talestri, and Il Triunfo della Fidelita; both of which were printed in score at Leipsic, and much admired over all Germany. Among the ancients, the poet and musician were constantly united in the same person; but modern times have few examples of such a junction, except in this princess, and in Rousseau, who was not only author of the poet, but of the music, of his delightful poetry, drama, the Devin du Village.

Dr. Burney, who had an opportunity of hearing the electress at a private concert sing a whole scene in her own opera of Talestri, says, 'She sung in a truly fine style; her voice is very weak, but she never forces it, nor sings out of tune. She spoke the recitative, which was an accompanied one, very well, in the way of the great old singers of better times; it was as well written, as it was well the air was an andante, rich in somewhat in the way of Handel's songs.'

'L'Augier told me,' says the same writer, 'that the Electress-Queen had also been a notable musician. Some years ago he had heard her sing very well; and in the year 1739, when she was only twenty-two years of age, and very handsome, she sung a duo with Senesino, at Florence, so well, that by her voice, which was then a very fine one, and her graceful and steady manner, she so captivated the old man, Senesino, that he could not proceed without shedding tears of satisfaction. Her imperial majesty has so long been a performer, that one day, in pleasantry, she told the old Faustina, the wife of Hasse, that she thought herself the first, meaning the oldest, virtuosa in Europe; for her father brought her on the court stage at Vienna when she was only five years old, and made her sing a song.'

The opera of Egeria, which was written by Metastasio, and set by Hasse, expressly for the private use of the imperial family, was once performed at court, when four archduchesses of Austria, sisters of the empress, filled the principal parts in it; while the Grand Duke of Tuscany sung and danced in the character of Cupid.

Violins.

The most celebrated makers of violins have been the Amatis, Stainer, and the two Straduariuses; but few particulars have been handed down to us respecting them; nor is this surprising, considering that their celebrity is owing, in a great degree, to time, by which alone their works have been brought to perfection. An Amati is a phrase often in the mouths of amateurs, without their being perhaps aware that there were four makers of that name, viz. Andrew, the father; Jerome and Antony, his sons; and Nicholas, Antony's son. The handsomest Amatis are those made by Jerome. All these individuals, as well as the two Straduariuses, belonged to Cremona; and hence that other phrase, by which, in order to designate a violin of the first order, it is called a genuine Cremona. Of the visible characteristics of the works of these different artists, the most prominent are these. The Stainer violins, compared with the Amatis, are high and narrow, and the box more confined; the sound holes are cut more perpendicular, and are shorter; there is also a kind of notch at the turn. The Straduarius violins are of a larger pattern, particularly those of Antonius the son, and have a wider box than the Amatis, and longer sound holes, which are cut at the ends very sharp and broad, with a little hollow at that end which other makers cut flat. The varnishes of the Amatis and Stainers are yellow, as well as those of Straduarius the father; the son's varnish is red. Of the audible characteristics, surely of the most importance, though too frequently a secondary consideration, generally speaking, the Amatis have a mild and sweet tone; the Stainers, a sharp and piercing tone; and the Straduariuses, a rich full tone.

Ukrainian Singers.

The singers in all the principal churches in Russia, and also the chapels, from the imperial to that of the wealthy citizen, are from the Ukraine. The sweetness and unlimited combination and range of the voice of the Ukrainians produce an agreeable and unique style of church music, unknown even in Italy.

The genius for music in the Ukraine is so general, that frequently a woman, while at her work, will modulate her voice, so as to affect the hearer to tears. 'Whenever,' says a modern traveller, 'I saw a group of women sitting at the threshold of a door, or a merry throng of village maidens sporting on the banks of a river, as is the custom, I was certain of hearing those pathetic sounds which never fail to awaken the exquisite pleasure of sensibility.'

The Cossacks.

Rude as the Cossacks are, they are by no means insensible to the charms of music, for which they manifest a strong predilection. During the time that the Russians were at Dresden, in 1813, a party of them, attracted by the solemn peal of the organ, entered a church, and while it was playing they continued fixed in silent attention. Its tones ceased, and the officiating clergyman commenced his sermon. This address, in an unknown language, soon began to excite symptoms of impatience in the strangers, one of whom, stealing softly up the steps of the pulpit unobserved by the minister, startled him not a little, by tapping him on the shoulder, in the midst of his harangue, and inviting him, as well as he could by signs, accompanied with all sorts of grotesque gestures, to descend, and no longer interrupt the gratification which the organist afforded to himself and his companions.

Gainsborough.

Gainsborough, though possessed of ear, taste, and genius, never had sufficient application to learn even the notes of music; he has been known to give ten guineas for an old lute, and ten more for a music book of no value, and then throw them both aside for the first new instrument he heard. 'When I first knew him,' says Mr. Jackson, 'he lived at Bath, where Giardini had been exhibiting his then unrivalled powers on the violin. His excellent performance made Gainsborough enamoured of the instrument, and conceiving, like the servant maid in the Spectator, that the music lay in the fiddle, he was frantic until he possessed the instrument which had given him so much pleasure, but seemed much surprised that the music of it remained behind with Giardini.

'He had scarcely recovered this shock, for it was a great one to him, when he heard Abel on the viol-da-gamba. The violin was then hung on the willow. Abel's viola-da-gamba was purchased, and the house resounded with melodious thirds and fifths from morn t