The overture to this opera is beautiful and effective in a high

degree. It commences with a spirited, dashing movement for a few bars,

something after the style of Auber’s Masaniello; it is then followed by

a more subdued movement, in which the basses are pizzicati; and here

we remark that the only fault we could find with the overture was the

want of bass. We once stated that a double bass and violoncello were

not sufficient, and the increase of the band in other respects causes

this fault to become more apparent; _ergo_, the pizzicato movement

appeared feeble. The quick movement is a bold allegro, leading away

in a minor mood, well worked up throughout. Altogether, the overture

is original; and, to our thinking, the finest composition this band

has yet performed. The orchestra contains, at present, twenty-six

musicians; and we do not hesitate to state, that is now as good a

band as was ever heard in America; and, if another double bass and

violoncello are added, as we hear is in contemplation, it would be a

fair orchestra in any part of Europe. The opening symphony and chorus,

_Ciel, qual procella orribile_, during a storm and shipwreck, at once

assured us that we were under the influence of a great and original

master; and when we reflected that he was but twenty-four years old

when the opera was composed, our admiration increased. Throughout

there is a firm and leading bass, which progresses according to the

old master’s style, more than we are accustomed to hear in modern

compositions. The instrumentation is splendid, and the management of

the wind instruments, particularly, reminds us strongly of Weber.

Indeed we have the German school continually before us. Mr. Montresor

has a part better suited to his voice than any we have yet heard him

in. His first aria, _Nel furor delle tempeste_, was admirably led by

a clarionet solo. Monsieur Guilleaud is an artist, and Mr. Montresor

sang the aria well. We adhere to our original opinion, that he is

the best instructed singer in the company. We must be excused from

using the jargon now in fashion among the press. We cannot see why a

company of Italians are to be called a _troupe_; nor why the ladies

and gentlemen are to act _roles_. There is mystification enough to

the generality of readers in the technicalities we are obliged to

use, and which we address to well read amateurs and professional men

alone, without hunting for French words to put in the place of plain

English. The part of Imogene was acted beautifully by Pedrotti. Her

singing was exceedingly good. Her voice is an organ of great power and

good quality, and her forte is expression. Her _scena_ and _duetto_

with Fornasari were very finished. Her mad scena, in the last act, was

highly creditable to her. Indeed we have very little fault to find. If

we must point out any defect, it would be occasionally a clumsiness of

execution, and a failure in the attempt at the chromatic scale; but who

can do it? For one fault she has twenty beauties, particularly in her

acting; and the use of her arms and hands is most easy and graceful.

Fornasari is certainly a very good looking man, with a very fine voice;

but there is a tremour about it continually, and his progression from

note to note is imperfect. In certain passages we were delighted with

him, in others greatly disappointed. In his principal song, and in

several leading passages in the duet with Imogene, we really were at

a loss to know what he intended to convey to the audience. He made a

curious sound in his throat, in which two notes only were perceptible.

It could not have been intended for a shake, we are tolerably sure; and

we set it down as being meant for an active passage of some sort, in

which he wished to show his _agilità_; but _vox faucibus hæsit_. This

gentleman’s education as a vocalist has undoubtedly been neglected;

but nature has been highly bountiful to him. The costume was well

preserved. Fornasari’s second dress was a picture. The female chorus

was weak, the male chorus good, but not correct. The _finale_ to the

first act is a composition of very superior merit.

The scenery is excellent. The artist’s forte, we think, is

architectural design; and we have noticed that Italian scene-painters

generally excel in that department. This is an opera which will

afford the professor profitable amusement, and the well-informed

amateur delight; but we have an unpleasant, lurking suspicion, that

it savours more of the olive than the honey; and, therefore, may

not be so readily swallowed as some other operas; at least we fear

that the ‘most respectable public,’ as the manager terms them, will

prove our suspicion just, and we are sure that they ought not to do

so. Mr. Lorenzo Daponte has got a very curious flourish in the books

of the opera, in which he says: ‘we sigh no more for Malibran!’ and

an enormous puff for the Italian artists in general, making some

comparisons which had been better let alone. He says that the company

procured by him shall merit the _gratitude_ of the public; that we

must all learn Italian without delay; and that he has got a gentleman

in the person of one Dr. Montresor, who will assist him in teaching

us. Very well, if it must be so, anything to oblige him, and _viva la

musica!_ We have omitted to mention a well imagined _trio_ between

Pedrotti, Montresor, and Fornasari, which we believe to be composed by

Mr. Bagioli, the conductor. It does him great credit, and gives us a

high opinion of his musical talents. There is scarcely a more effective

piece in the opera.

On Thursday, Miss Hughes took her benefit, and a new opera called Nadir

and Zuleika was produced; the music partly selected, partly composed

by Mr. Horn. Of course, the piece is of an eastern character. The

music is light, pretty, and well suited to the sentiment. The plot is

rather extravagant; turning upon no less than the opium day-dream of

Nadir, a young gentleman who has expressed a wish to become acquainted

with the lovely houris, or black-eyed beauties of Mahomet’s heaven;

and this being overheard by Zuleika, a young lady who imagines that

her charms are sufficient to ensure him a terrestrial paradise, she

resents his conduct by dosing him and his servant with opium; and then

gets up a scene during his bewilderment, which causes him to believe,

that he really has thrown off ‘this mortal coil,’ and is in possession

of his wish. A number of droll circumstances and situations arise,

which we have not space to dwell on: suffice it to say, that it is

a lively operetta of the Abon Hassan species; and, like that piece,

has an admirable part for Placie, which he makes the most of; indeed,

he is extremely droll, and kept the house in constant laughter. The

overture is composed by Fétis, a person who stands high as a critic in

Paris, and editor of a musical journal. Mr. Horn has likewise used the

chorus _Tacete non temete_, by Mercadante, as found in his opera _Le

Nonne de Gamache_. It is also introduced in _Elise e Claudio_. To this

he has added a second subject skilfully, and, we think, has increased

its effect. A ballad, founded on a Swiss air, sung by Miss Hughes, is

a charming little gem; and was executed by her extremely well, and

deservingly encored. She had likewise a _bravura_, with a _corno_ and

_clarinette_ accompaniment. The former instrument was clumsily managed,

the latter had not enough to do; but Herwig never fails in his part;

and what he had to play was perfect. We do not admire this _bravura_;

the divisions are common-place, and such as we have heard five hundred

times with all the _clap-traps_ and _gallery-delights_ commonly used;

but Horn has instrumented the song with his usual ability. Jones has

two songs, both good; the last a very beautiful air, too chaste perhaps

to please the multitude; but it comes in a bad situation, directly

after the former noisy song. Another place should be found, or dialogue

introduced between the two. The choruses are pleasing, and they sang,

particularly the ladies, admirably. Richings sustained the character

of Vivienne, a French officer brought into the east--we really forget

for what purpose. He acted naturally, and there was nothing in the

concerted music beyond his capability. After the opera, the excellent

piece of ‘Ways and Means’ was performed; and between the acts the

band played out of the book _number six_, which the house immediately

recognized, and hissed most profoundly. Horn’s pretty ballad, the

Mermaid’s Cave, followed, sung by Miss Hughes, and accompanied by

himself; it was received with its usual _éclat_. The opera of John of

Paris concluded the evening, which was done much more perfectly than

before.--(_New York Mirror._)

THE DRAMA.

~King’s Theatre.~

Of the Italian Opera we have literally nothing to report, except

that, up to very nearly the end of April, it has been in a state of

wretchedness never equalled in our time. The present month, May, is

to give us Mesdames ~Pasta~, ~Cinti~, Signors ~Rubini~, ~Tamburini~,

and ~Zuchelli~,--but will any operas be ready for them? will the

new operas announced be worthy of this theatre? And, let it not be

forgotten, that about two-thirds of the season are over, and that two

out of the three hundred guineas paid for each box may be said to have

been thrown away, even if the remainder of the season should be worth

anything. An attempt has been made to cover the disgrace brought on the

Italian stage, by the German opera, which, though far superior to the

Italian, is yet very inferior to that of last year. _Fidelio_ has been

performed, but Mad. ~Pirscher~ is not to be named with Mad. ~Devrient~;

and as the weight of the opera falls on the female character, the

difference between the two cannot be made up by any merit that the

others may possess. Of this merit ~M. Blum~, as _Rocco_, has his share:

he is a good singer and an excellent performer.

On the 18th was produced _Zampa_, a German opera, by ~Herold~, which

has been much praised in the foreign journals, and perhaps may excite

an interest in those to whom the language is familiar; but musically

considered, we find in it very little indeed that can justify the

encomiums bestowed on the work abroad. It is a kind of _Don Giovanni_

story, only the statue is of the female gender, and the profligate

invites the marble lady, not to a supper, but to a wedding.

An air first heard in the overture, and afterwards sung by Mad.

~Pirscher~, the heroine, is effective; as is a trio in the same act.

And to the third act M. ~Hummel~ has written a finale, which very much

strengthens the opera, and displays his skill in dramatic composition,

though it does not exhibit much originality.

~Drury Lane Theatre.~

Nothing of any importance has been presented here since our last. _The

Maid of Cashmere_ continued to be performed till the parties engaged in

it were dispersed. Mr. and Mrs. Wood, it seems, are preparing to depart

for America. How the stage is to repair her loss we cannot guess. If

we are to have only foreigners as first vocal women in our English

theatres, her place may be filled certainly; but will the public long

endure this? We believe they will, for they are grown apathetic.

The performers themselves, however, ought to be active; they should

combine in their own defence, and open an English, a really English,

theatre; the Lord Chamberlain would sanction them; and the town might

be conciliated, if they would give good operas, demand moderate prices,

and endeavour to keep offensive company of all kinds, not only women,

but men, as much as possible out of the way.

~Covent Garden Theatre.~

_The Coiners_, an opera of Auber, produced at the latter end of March,

we have now heard, and find it altogether unworthy of notice.

~English Opera House, Adelphi.~

Mr. Arnold opened this small house on Easter Monday, merely with a view

to keeping his company together while his own theatre is rebuilding.

A new opera, _Philip of Anjou_,--founded on a German story, of which

a translation appeared some years ago in a collection of Tales by the

Misses Corbet,--composed by the Mr. Martin who lately succeeded H.

Phillips as _Leporello_, was performed for the first time with some

success. Two or three old favourites have since been brought forward,

apparently to the satisfaction of the town, for they have drawn numbers

to the theatre; and new things are in preparation, which, we trust,

will be ready by the time the blighting east wind leaves us, and takes

in its train the universally-prevailing disease.

* * * * *

It is a fact, unparalleled in the modern history of the English

stage, that about the middle and towards the end of last month,--the

month of April, too, and after Easter--Drury Lane, Covent Garden, the

King’s Theatre, and the Haymarket, were all closed for several nights!

The illness of many of the performers was the ostensible cause; but

we believe that the managers were too happy in being able to avail

themselves of this excuse, and closed their doors merely because so few

persons presented themselves for admittance.

* * * * *

Rumours are afloat that the two winter theatres are about to be

virtually under one management, and that the artists are to be engaged

with a condition that they shall perform at either house, as may be

required. If they have any spirit, a monopoly of this novel kind may

easily be defeated.

THE MUSIC OF THE PRESENT NUMBER.

Dussek’s works, ingenious, refined, and beautiful as they are, now

are rarely heard. Perhaps the two specimens we have in the present

Number given of his composition, may make his name known to some of the

younger amateurs of the day, who are probably acquainted with no other

music than arrangements of Rossini’s operas, a little of Mozart, _done

into quadrilles_, and much of Herz and Czerny.

* * * * *

Handel’s _Musette_ (the word signifies a _bag-pipe_) is written for

an orchestra, but of stringed instruments only. It is one of the

lovely compositions of this great master which are only known to the

frequenters of the Ancient Concerts.

* * * * *

The Romance of Hummel is from his heroi-comic opera, _Mathilde von

Guise_. We have reprinted it from the original Leipzig edition, but

omitted the German words. This is the most popular piece in the opera.

* * * * *

The masterly Madrigal by Wilbye is from the edition published by Mr.

Warren, editor of the celebrated collection of Glees, &c. Wilbye, Sir

John Hawkins tells us, was ‘a teacher of music, who dwelt in Austin

Friars, about the year 1598.’ His compositions are inferior to those of

none of his contemporaries, and his madrigal for five voices, ‘Flora

gave me fairest flowers,’ has hardly an equal in sweetness of melody,

in rich unaffected harmony, and in admirable contrivance of the parts.

* * * * *

The air of Gluck immediately follows, or rather opens out of, the

overture to _Iphigénie_, as an addition to which it is always performed

at the Ancient Concerts, arranged for a full band by Mr. Greatorex.

This charming melody has very recently been published in a collection

(see _Harmonicon_ for March last, page 60,) as a ‘Bohemian air,’ and

marked _allegretto!_

* * * * *

The song by Pelham Humphrey is melodiously plaintive, but the air

certainly is not suited to the two cheerful verses, however well

adapted to those that complain. Our accompaniment is drawn from

inference, as we had only a treble and unfigured base to direct us.

However, the composer’s intentions are pretty obvious. Humphrey was

born in 1647, and brought up in the King’s Chapel, of which he was

admitted a gentleman in 1666, and died in 1674.

* * * * *

Concerning the march and its author, we beg to refer the reader to our

Review for the present month.

[Sidenote: June, 1833.]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF ADRIAN BATTEN, JOHN WELDON, THOMAS TUDWAY,

~Mus.~ D., WILLIAM BLAKE, D.D., ~and~ CHARLES KING, M.B.

We now proceed towards the conclusion of our notices of the most

distinguished composers of English cathedral music, down to the end of

the last century, which branch of musical biography will be completed

in our next Number.

* * * * *

~Adrian Batten~ was organist of St. Paul’s Cathedral during the

reigns of Charles I. and II. He is called by Sir John Hawkins, not

in very courteous terms, a ‘singing man,’ and certainly appears on

the books as a vicar-choral of the church, for then the duty at the

organ was executed by one of that body; and the organist still draws

most of his emoluments from his share in the property belonging to

the vicars-choral. The name of this composer is even now well known

in all our choirs, from his short full anthem, ‘Deliver us, O Lord,’

which has continued in use up to the present day. Batten was, says

Burney, ‘merely a good harmonist of the old school, without adding any

thing to the common stock of ideas in melody or modulation with which

the art was furnished long before he was born. Nor did he correct any

of the errors in accent with which former times abounded.’ It is,

however, just to remark, that his anthem, ‘Hear my prayer,’ for five

voices, is, in point of construction and effect, equal to most of the

compositions of his time. He undoubtedly exhibited no great talent, and

owes the transmission of his name more to the convenient brevity of the

above-mentioned anthem, than to his musical genius.

* * * * *

~John Weldon~, born at Chichester, received his first musical

instructions from John Walter, organist of Eton College, and afterwards

became a disciple of Purcell. He was at an early age chosen organist of

New College, Oxford. In 1701, he was appointed gentleman-extraordinary

of the Royal Chapel; in 1708 he succeeded Dr. Blow, as organist

thereof; and seven years after, upon a second composer being added

to the establishment, he was named to that situation. He was a great

pluralist; for while he held all these offices, he was also organist

of St. Bride’s; and George I. having presented the parish of St Martin

in the Fields with an organ, Mr. Weldon, perhaps in compliment to the

king, Hawkins adds, was elected organist.[54]

Weldon’s compositions were chiefly confined to the service of the

church; but he assisted in setting Congreve’s masque, _The Judgment of

Paris_, to music, in which is the air ‘Let ambition fire thy mind,’ a

lovely melody, and still as fresh as if the production of the present

century. This was introduced by Arne in _Love in a Village_, and is

known to all as ‘Hope, thou nurse of young Desire.’ Some of his songs

are to be found in the _Mercurius Musicus_, and other collections.

Among these are ‘From grave lessons and restraint,’ a very popular air,

and as such remembered in Sir John Hawkins’s time, who has reprinted

it in his fifth volume; and it would even now be occasionally sung by

lovers of natural melody, but that the words partake of that pruriency

which does not tell well for ‘the wisdom of our ancestors.’

The great and deserved fame of this composer is built on his anthems,

‘In thee, O Lord,’ and ‘Hear my crying,’ of which Hawkins very justly

observes, ‘it is difficult to say whether the melody or the harmony of

each be its greatest excellence.’ Dr. Burney speaks very slightingly of

Weldon’s powers; and it seems to us that on this subject he was either

prejudiced, or imperfectly acquainted with the works he criticised.

Weldon died in 1736, and was succeeded in the Chapel Royal by Dr. Boyce.

* * * * *

~Thomas Tudway~, Doctor in Music, was educated under Dr. Blow, with

Turner and Purcell. Soon after quitting the Chapel Royal he was

admitted into the choir at Windsor, as a tenor singer. Like his

fellow-disciples, he endeavoured to distinguish himself early as

a composer, and inserted in the collection of church music, which

he selected and transcribed for Lord Harley, an anthem composed by

himself in 1675, when he was only nineteen, with six more of his

early productions for the church, of which, Dr. Burney tells us, the

counterpoint is but ordinary and clumsy.

In 1681 he was admitted to the degree of Bachelor in Music, at

Cambridge; and in 1705, when Queen Anne visited that place, he produced

an anthem, ‘Thou, O God, hast heard my vows,’ which was performed as an

exercise for a doctor’s degree. He then was appointed public professor

of music in that university. As an acknowledgment for other anthems

composed for the use of Queen Anne, he was appointed her organist and

composer-extraordinary.

In the latter part of Dr. Tudway’s life he resided chiefly in London,

and was much patronized by the Oxford family. The valuable scores of

English church music, in six thick quarto volumes, now in the British

Museum, and forming part of the Harleian Collection, (No. 7337,) were

collected and transcribed by himself at this time. During the same

period he was in the habit of meeting Prior, Sir James Thornhill,

Christian the engraver, and other eminent characters, at Lord Oxford’s,

once a week; and Sir James drew all their portraits, among which is

Tudway playing on the harpsichord. Prior wrote humorous verses under

these drawings, which were in the possession of Mr. West, formerly

President of the Royal Society. There is also a picture of Dr.

Tudway in the Music-school at Oxford, a present from Dr. Rawlinson.

‘At Cambridge,’ Burney rather sarcastically remarks, ‘he was longer

remembered as an inveterate punster than as a great musician.’[55]

His intimacy with Purcell furnished him with the means of forming

an accurate judgment both of the character and talents of that great

composer, of which he thus speaks in a letter addressed to his son:--‘I

knew him perfectly well: he had a most commendable ambition of

exceeding every one of his time, and succeeded without contradiction,

there being none in England, nor anywhere else I know of, that could

come in competition with him for compositions of all kinds,’ &c.

Dr. Tudway died in 1726.

* * * * *

~William Blake~, Doctor in Divinity, was prebendary of Salisbury, and

rector of St. Thomas’s church in that city. This is all that we can

learn of his history. We conjecture that his death must have taken

place more than fifty years ago, for in a volume of anthems published

about the year 1780, he is mentioned as ‘_late_ prebendary,’ &c. Burney

does not speak of him; his name therefore, of course, does not occur

in Hawkins; and we do not meet with it in the new edition of Wood’s

_Athen. Oxon._, or in the Biographical Dictionary. But though he is

thus unnoticed, no anthem is more generally known and admired than

his ‘I have set God always before me,’ which, for beauty of melody,

elegance in construction, and correctness in setting, is without a

superior. It has been contemned by those whose beau ideal of excellence

consists in canons and fugues, but long-continued public approbation is

a sure test of merit, and this the composition in question has enjoyed,

till the criticism of pedants is nearly if not quite silenced.

* * * * *

~Charles King,~ Mus. B.--Sir John Hawkins, who seems to have been

personally acquainted with the subject of this sketch, states that he

was bred up in the choir of St. Paul’s, under Dr. Blow, and was at

first a supernumerary singer in that cathedral, for the small stipend

of 14_l._ a year. In 1704 he was admitted bachelor in music at Oxford;

and on the death of Jeremiah Clark, whose sister was his first wife,

was appointed almoner and master of the children of St. Paul’s; and in

1730 became a vicar-choral thereof. He was also organist of St. Bennet

Fink, London; and held these several appointments till his death in

1745. ‘With his second wife,’ says Sir John, ‘he had a fortune of seven

or eight thousand pounds, left her by the widow of Mr. Primatt, the

chemist, who lived in Smithfield, and also in that house at Hampton

which is now Mr. Garrick’s. But notwithstanding this accession of

wealth, he left his family in but indifferent circumstances. King

composed some anthems, and also services to a great number, and

thereby gave occasion to Dr. Greene to say,--and indeed he was very

fond of saying it, as he thought it a witty sentiment--that “Mr.

King was a very _serviceable_ man.” His compositions are uniformly

restrained within the bounds of mediocrity; they are well known as

being frequently performed, yet no one cares to censure or commend

them, and they leave the mind just where they found it. Some who were

intimate with him say, he was not void of genius, but averse to study;

which character seems to agree with that general indolence and apathy

which were visible in his look and behaviour at church, where he seemed

to be as little affected by the service as the organ-blower.’ Hawkins

was very much enamoured of the works of Blow, and such laborious, dry

composers, and appears to have had little if any genuine taste for what

is natural in music--for flowing melody and unaffected harmony,--for

both of which King’s productions are eminently distinguished. Their

best praise is, that they have continued to be performed from the

moment they were brought forth to the present time; they are in

constant use in every cathedral in England and Ireland: this is an

incontestable proof of merit, and silences all criticism. He who can

listen to King’s Service in ~B~ flat with indifference, may be assured

that he has no true taste, though he may be a great admirer of canons

_recte_ and _retro_, and four in one.

A TREATISE ON MELODY.

(From _La Revue Musicale_.)

A Treatise on Melody, independent of its connection with Harmony;

with a Supplement on the Art of accompanying Melody with Harmony

where the former is predominant; the whole supported by the best

Models of Melody. By ~Anthony Reicha~, Member of the Legion of

Honour, and Professor of Composition in the Conservatory of Music.

Second Edition. Paris, 1832. In two volumes quarto.

In the preface to this work, M. Reicha expresses himself thus--“During

several ages a great number of treatises have been written on harmony,

and not one on melody.” Further on he says, “Several authors of merit

have indeed spoken in their various works on the subject of melody, but

it has only been with reference to its general effects. In Germany,

Italy, England, and especially in France, remarks, more or less

important, more or less instructive, and often more or less ingenious,

have been published on the subject; but what has been the result of

these remarks on the musical art? Why have they been of so little

profit to it? Because vague reasonings, unsupported by demonstrative

proofs, however ingenious, however instructive they may be, having very

little internal evidence, are susceptible of being combated and refuted

by other reasonings, and consequently remain without effect. It is

with music as with geometry; in the one you must prove every point by

musical examples, as in the other by geometrical figures. In both you

must proceed regularly, from consequence to consequence, and establish

a system so solid, that no reasoning whatever can shake it. It is in

this point of view that I say nothing has yet been published respecting

melody; all the remarks which have been made on the subject united

would not furnish matter for a real treatise on melody. I found myself

in my researches, therefore, entirely abandoned to myself; and if

unwittingly I have, on some occasions, followed the paths of those who

have written on melody before me, it will be an immediate emanation of

my own system, and in that case it would be unjust to make it a matter

of reproach.

“It will be seen in the course of this treatise that the musical period

has a real existence. This period has remained a secret even to the

present time, no one has ever proved or defined it indubitably, and

even when it has been spoken of, it has been only too much confounded

with the phrases and melodic members which are in fact only its

decisions. This is the reason it played so unhappy a part in the famous

contest between the Piccinists and the Gluckists.

“Musical rhythm, the knowledge of which is so important, not only in

music, but in lyric poetry, for similar reasons, has shared the same

fate.”

I have extended my quotation to this length, only that the object M.

Reicha proposes to achieve by his book, and the circumstances under

which he wrote it may be well understood. Not only has he felt the

utility of a systematic treatise on melody, but the necessity of it

has appeared to him so pressing, that he has persuaded himself there

existed no previous work on the subject. Though he is mistaken in this

respect, it is a point which should be borne in mind, in order that he

may be allowed all the merit of his own ideas.

I have said that M. Reicha is in error when he says, that no work

especially on the subject of melody existed before his own. In

fact, setting, aside entirely the excellent discourse of Doni “on

the Perfection of Melody,” which will be found in the second volume

of his musical works; and the work of Nichellman, (published at

Ratisbon in 1752,) _Die Melodie nach ihren Wesen sowohl als nach ihren

Eigenschaften_, (Melody considered in its Nature and Qualities,)

the first part of the great work of Riepel, published at Frankfort

and Leipsic, in 1757, and entitled _Anfangsgründe zur Musikalischen

Setzkunst_, (Elements of Musical Composition,) is a complete treatise

on the Melodic Rhythm; and the second part of the same work,

_Grundregeln zur Tonordnung_, (Fundamental rules of the System of

Tones, &c.,) contains a very good theory of modulation. The two last

volumes of Koch’s Essay towards an Introduction to Composition contain

also an excellent treatise on melody, considered in various ways. The

second volume treats on the creation and forms of melodic passages, on

modulation, on the varieties of times, &c. The third and last volume is

divided under the following heads: 1. Of Rhythm. 2. Of the Ornaments of

Melody, and the manner of varying their forms. 3. On the Melodic Period.

We have likewise seen that, when writing his book, M. Reicha believed

also that there was no especial work on particular rhythm, that is to

say, on measure in music and poetry, except the general treatises on

melody: he did not know, therefore, the work of Augustan Pisa, entitled

_Battuta della Musica Dichiarata_; nor that of P. Sacchi, _Della

Divisione del Tempo nella Musica, nell ballo e nella Poesia_, of which

the work of Bonesi, entitled “A Treatise on Measure, or the Division

of Time in Music and Poetry,” is in some respects only a translation.

In examining the work of M. Reicha, therefore, we must not lose sight

of the consideration that he has not used other books to assist the

construction of his own; it is to his own individual ideas and thoughts

alone that we are introduced, and we most allow him the merit he

deserves on that score, even if he is sometimes mistaken.

Another consideration must also be kept in mind when examining the work

of M. Reicha, and that is, that he has intentionally treated of melody

alone, laying aside all consideration of its connection with harmony.

By fixing these bounds to his work he has, doubtlessly, renounced the

analyzing some points of high interest; for in the present state of the

art, melody derives as much effect from the harmony which accompanies

it as from its own resources; the modulation, the expression of a

phrase, often depends upon it; but M. Reicha has said in his preface

that he has determined to treat only of the material, or, if the

epithet may be permitted, palpable parts of melody; that is to say,

of the form of its periods and its phraseology. It is doubtless the

same reason which has prevented him from discussing the poetry of

melody, or the influence of rhythm on melodic expression. A complete

treatise on melody would embrace all these points; but again, it is to

be remembered that such a treatise was not what the author proposed to

write.

M. Reicha seems to have an idea that, in order to justify the writing a

treatise on melody, it is requisite to anticipate and answer beforehand

all the objections which would be made against such a book. It is not

from forethought that M. Reicha has anticipated these objections; I

have frequently heard them from the mouths of professors themselves.

There seems a general persuasion that the best melodies are the produce

of a blind instinct, a mere uninstructed animal genius, and people are

not aware that the best-organized composer, the man most endowed by

nature with the faculty of creating, does not at first know what to do

with his own ideas; that he is incapable of himself alone conceiving

the mechanism of rhythm, that of modulation, or the magic effect of

reducing his thoughts to order. All these things are learned: some

learn them from books, some from the instructions of a professor, and

some again from their own experience. Hence it arises, that the first

essays of a man of genius, if he has had no preliminary education,

are as defective in melodic invention as in any other point. The only

difference between the man of genius and the ordinary musician is,

that in the productions of the former a certain air of novelty and

vigour is generally to be detected rising above the faults with which

it is surrounded, and giving promise of what the writer will be when

he has acquired experience. The requisites indispensable to melody are

symmetry in the rhythm of the phrases, symmetry in the number of bars,

and regularity of modulation, that is, an easy and pleasant arrangement

in the succession of the notes; these things are first learned, then

become habitual, and, finally, present themselves without our having

the labour of thinking of them.

It is erroneous to suppose that there are so many obstacles as some

conceive, in the way of a spontaneous production of ideas, for

rhythm, number, and modulation are faculties so inseparable from a

well-instructed musician, that he obeys them as by instinct, without

ever remarking it, while he is solely occupied by the graceful,

energetic, gay, or passionate character with which he wishes to invest

his melody. How many other more real obstacles is the composer obliged

to combat with and surmount in the arrangement of his ideas! If he

writes to words in the dramatic style, the arrangement of the verse,

the prosody, the rapidity of the action, and many other difficulties,

restrain him much more; yet the man of genius always ends with triumph.

Composers themselves cannot understand by what mysterious agency they

are endowed thus with the faculty of invention, the power of keeping up

their warmth of feeling and their enthusiasm; of investing themselves

with a passion, in the midst of no many obstacles; of retaining their

independent power of choosing subjects, and working upon them with

equal dexterity, as if there were nothing in the way. I have heard

persons who disapprove of writing on melody, say, that supposing a

good work could be produced on such a subject, no one is competent

to the task but a composer celebrated himself for his happy invention

of melodies, such as Mozart or Rossini. This appears to me to be a

manifest error. The man of genius, who is constantly occupied by new

productions, has not time to analyse the mechanism of his own works; he

has no doubt that he himself understands what he knows, and he has no

faith in things which are to be learned; no man can be more unfit to

become a teacher. The power of analysis is a very rare gift of nature,

and not necessarily connected with or produced by any of the other

faculties of the mind.

After giving some preliminary notions on the most important objects

of music, M. Reicha passes to the definition of melodic designs, of

cadences, of rhythm, and the construction of the period. He then

develops all those points in separate articles, entitled--1. Of periods

consisting of one member only. 2. On periods consisting of two members.

3. On the complement (filling up) of the bar after the completion of a

melodic phrase. 4. On measures understood, not expressed in the rhythm.

5. On the melodic echo. 6. On the difference of rhythms in relation

to the quantity of bars. 7. On periods consisting of two members. 8.

Of Organ points, &c. 9. On the conducting of melody. 10. On periods

consisting of more than two members. 11. On the connection of periods.

12. On melodies consisting of two periods. 13. On melodies with three

principal periods. 14. General observations on the form, outline, and

dimensions of melodic phrases. 15. Remarks on airs of declamation

and concerted pieces. 16. On the different characters of melody. 17.

Observations on the unity and variety of melody. 18. On the style of

delivering and of ornamenting melody. 19. Observations on national

airs. 20. On the methods of developing a subject. 21. On the methods of

studying and practising the writing of melody. 22. Plan of a programme

of a course of study for composition. 23. Last remarks on rhythm. 24.

(Supplement.) On the art of accompanying melody with harmony where the

former is predominant.

~Fetis.~

MR. BARNETT _versus_ THE PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY.

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~, 9, _John Street, Adelphi_.

Without a wish to mix up your respectable publication with my quarrels

and grievances, I trust you will make known the following remarks to

your readers, and allow _them_ to judge for themselves whether they are

called for or gratuitous.

A few months ago I was informed of certain reformations about to take

place in the Philharmonic Society, and of certain resolutions agreed

upon at a meeting of the members. I refrained from making known to the

public _then_ that portion of the business which concerned me, because

I gained my information in confidence; but since that time, I have

heard it from those who have made no secret of it: I shall, therefore,

treat the public with a ‘plain unvarnished tale,’ serving to show the

_extreme liberality_ of the _Philharmonic Society_.

Soon after the publication of my strictures upon the _unjust_ conduct

of these gentlemen towards native artists, their truth was doubtless

felt; and a meeting was called for the laudable purpose of arranging

plans to treat artists in future more generously than they had treated

_me_. We not unfrequently find that ungenerous persons (like bad

paymasters, who either pay beforehand or not at all) stride from

one extreme to the other: thus the Society acted as preposterously

on the one hand, as they had before done on the other; and, with a

show of liberality which I had not given them credit for, they now

resolved upon engaging English writers by wholesale, to compose for

them, thereby giving the lie to all I had advanced against them. Mr.

A. then proposed his intimate friend Mr. B., and Mr. C. did the same

kind act for Mr. D., until the whole alphabet of English composers

was proposed and received. Some of the gentlemen (I mention no names)

who were to be called upon to write had scarcely made up their minds

whether they should set up for composers or not; and I doubt not that

there was at the time a great run upon Messrs. Boosey and Co. for all

the _partiture_ of the classical writers. Now then was the glorious

time for the Society to lay aside all personal feeling towards me,

and to do me justice, in common with others of no greater pretensions

than myself. At this meeting of the members of the Philharmonic,

there was but _one_ gentleman (whose name I do not feel myself at

liberty to mention) who felt and stated, in finding that _my_ name was

not in the most remote manner alluded to, that I had been unjustly

treated by them, and that, as a liberal body, they ought to make the

_amende honorable_ by employing _me_ with the rest; and that if it

was to be presumed that _I_ was the first cause of a revolution in

the arrangements of the Society, that _I_ ought at least to share in

the benefits of it. No sooner did the hated name echo from director

to member, than the hue and cry was raised, the motion negatived on

all hands, the member silenced, and the Philharmonic Society, in the

very midst of their (newly-acquired) glowing liberality, forgetting

themselves, threw off their “borrowed robes,” and appeared in their

native nudity.

I am not vain enough to say that my trifling efforts were worthy

of performance at their concerts, but I may boldly assert that my

abilities (such as they are) had nothing at all to do with their

rejection of me: had I been a _Beethoven_, I doubt not that they would

have treated the bare mention of my name in the same manner. They were

actuated by a paltry feeling of revenge and animosity, and hailed

the opportunity of casting an affront upon me; but in this way alone

could they do it: they dared not to revenge themselves openly upon me,

but under cover of a meeting to which they knew _I_ could not gain

admittance to tax them with their injustice.

Having learnt the result of the transaction, I came to the natural

conclusion, that I had judged these gentlemen aright. Had they waived

that ill feeling towards me, which was occasioned by any act of mine

which they might have deemed improper, and had admitted me upon the

score of any musical talent which I might possess, their conduct would

have been magnanimous, and I should have sorely regretted having

exposed their former ill treatment of me to the public, but--

Ex pede Herculem,

they did the very thing to convince the world that my original opinion

of them was a just one. However disposed I might have been to have

judged them liberally, it was not likely that a body of men who had

before treated me so scurvily either would or could now behave like

_true artistes_, and, in the anxious wish to advance music in England,

lose sight of all private picque.

In conclusion, should any further question arise whether, in the first

instance, they treated me as I have represented, let it be borne in

mind that I advanced, boldly, a string of facts which were given

publicity to, through the medium of the _Harmonicon_: I signed my name,

gave my address, and was ready for any confutation, either public or

private. The only reply to my former letter was a weak and futile

attempt to prove that Messrs. ~Attwood~ and ~Potter~ were _not so

clever as I asserted them to be_; but the main point was not attempted

to be disputed, and my brave antagonist shielded himself under cover

of a _fictitious name_. These gentlemen thought it wisest to suffer

my assertions to go uncontradicted, because _they could not_ disprove

them; and, moreover, because they knew that I had in the background

strong evidence of the ~TRUTH~ of my statement, even among _the members

of their own Society_.

I have the honour, Sir,

Of subscribing myself

Your obedient, humble servant,

~John Barnett~.

MEMOIRS OF DR. BURNEY, BY HIS DAUGHTER MAD. D’ARBLAY.

[Concluded from page 99.]

In bringing to a conclusion this lengthened account of a work which,

however executed, must be interesting to the general reader on

account of the anecdotes relating to distinguished literary and other

characters which it contains, and to the musical amateur from the

information, though too scanty, which it conveys on matters concerning

his favourite pursuit, we shall confine ourselves as much as possible

to what relates to the art and its professors.

In 1785, Dr. Burney’s account of the Commemoration appeared, and led to

his first audience of George III. and his queen.

This year, happily for Dr. Burney, re-opened with a new

professional interest, that necessarily called him from the

tributary sorrow with which the year 1784 had closed.

The engravings for the Commemoration of Handel were now finished;

and a splendid copy of the work was prepared for the King. Lord

Sandwich, as one of the chief Directors of the late festival,

obligingly offered his services for taking the Doctor under his

wing to present the book at the levee; but his Majesty gave Dr.

Burney to understand, through Mr. Nicolai, that he would receive

it, at a private audience, in his library.

This was an honour most gratifying to Dr. Burney, who returned from

his interview at the palace in an elevation of pleasure that he

communicated to his family with the social confidence that made the

charm of his domestic character.

ROYAL AUDIENCE.

He had found their Majesties together, without any attendants or

any state, in the library; where he presented both to the King and

to the Queen a copy of his Commemoration.

They had the appearance of being in a serene _tête-à-tête_, that

bore every mark of frank and cheerful intercourse. His reception

was most gracious; and they both seemed eager to look at his

offerings, which they instantly opened and examined.

“You have made, Dr. Burney,” said his Majesty, “a much more

considerable book of this Commemoration than I had expected; or,

perhaps, than you had expected yourself?”

“Yes, Sire,” he answered. “the subject grew upon me as I proceeded,

and a continual accumulation of materials rendered it almost daily

more interesting.”

His Majesty then detailed his opinion of the various performers;

and said that one thing only had discredited the business, and that

was the inharmonious manner in which one of the base singers had

sung his part; which had really been more like a man groaning in a

fit of the cholic, than singing an air.

The Doctor laughingly agreed that such sort of execution certainly

more resembled a convulsive noise, proceeding from some one in

torture, than any species of harmony; and that therefore, as he

could not speak of that singer favourably in his account, he had

been wholly silent on his subject; as had been his practice in

other similar instances.

The Queen seemed perfectly to understand, and much to approve,

the motive for this mild method of treating want of abilities and

powers to please, where the will was good, and where the labour had

been gratuitous.

The King expressed much admiration that the full _fortes_ of so

vast a band, in accompanying the singers, had never been too loud,

even for a single voice; when it might so naturally have been

expected that the accompaniments even of the softest pianos, in

such plenitude, would have been overpowering to all vocal solos. He

had talked, he said, both with musical people and with philosophers

upon the subject; but none of them could assign a reason, or

account for so astonishing a fact.

Something then bringing forth the name of Shakspeare, the Doctor

mentioned a translation of his plays by Professor Eichenberg. The

King, laughing, exclaimed, “The Germans translate Shakspeare! why

we don’t understand him ourselves! how should foreigners?”

The Queen replied, that she thought Eichenberg had rendered the

soliloquies very exactly.

“Aye,” answered the King, “that is because in those serious

speeches there are none of those puns, quibbles, and peculiar

idioms of Shakspeare and his times, for which there are no

equivalents in other languages.”

The remaining part of this conversation we omit, out of tenderness

to Madame d’Arblay, who, being a practised writer, surely might have

conveyed the sense of the highly flattering compliment paid her by

their Majesties in less direct terms than she has here employed.

In 1786, Dr. Burney experienced some disappointment in not being

appointed to succeed Mr. Stanley (‘blind Stanley’) as Master of the

King’s band. The office was bestowed on Mr., afterwards Sir William,

Parsons, by the Marquess of Salisbury, the Lord Chamberlain, at the

request of the Marchioness. As Mr. Parsons had even less claims

as a composer than Dr. Burney, and--though a most honourable,

well-educated, sensible man, of very polished manners--possessed none

of those literary talents which the other was then so exclusively and

successfully devoting to the service of music, his appointment to the

only place in the gift of the crown which offers anything like an

adequate reward for musical eminence, was much censured, and, according

to the author of these Memoirs, not a little displeasing to the King.

It is but just, however, to the memory of Sir W. Parsons, to add, that

he very soon conciliated the good will of all the royal family, with

whom, ostensibly as singing-master to the Princesses, he passed much

time, at both Buckingham House and Windsor, in intercourse as social as

the great difference of each in the parties permitted.

About this time, Miss F. Burney, the future wife of General d’Arblay,

was made Keeper of the Robes to the Queen, and had apartments assigned

to her in the two principal royal residences. At those in Windsor

Castle, Dr. Burney was, by royal desire, invited to pass some days with

his daughter; and here the King, throwing off all the formalities of

royalty, had an opportunity of entering into unrestrained, familiar

conversation with the historian of music. The first of the interviews

thus agreeably brought about is described in the following extract.

He [the King] opened upon musical matters, with the most animated

wish to hear the sentiments of the Doctor, and to communicate his

own; and the Doctor, enchanted, was more than ready, was eager, to

meet these condescending advances.

No one at all accustomed to court etiquette could have seen him

without smiling: he was so totally unimpressed with the modes

which, even in private, are observed the royal presence, that he

moved, spoke, and walked about the room without constraint; nay,

he even debated with the King precisely with the same frankness

that he would have used with any other gentleman whom he had

accidentally met in society.

Nevertheless, a certain flutter of spirits which always accompanies

royal interviews that are infrequent, even with those who are

least awed by them, took from him that self-possession which, in

new or uncommon cases, teaches us how to get through difficulties

of form, by watching the manœuvres of our neighbours. Elated

by the openness and benignity of his Majesty, he seemed in a

sort of honest enchantment that drove from his mind all thought

of ceremonial; though, in his usual commerce with the world, he

was scrupulously observant of all customary attentions. But now,

on the contrary, he pursued every topic that was started till he

had satisfied himself by saying all that belonged to it; and he

started any topic that occurred to him, whether the King appeared

to be ready for another or not; and while the rest of the party,

retreating towards the wainscot, formed a distant and respectful

circle, in which the King, approaching separately and individually

those whom he meant to address, was alone wont to move, the Doctor,

quite unconsciously, came forward into the circle himself; and,

wholly bent upon pursuing whatever theme was begun, either followed

the King when he turned away, or came onward to meet his steps when

he inclined them towards some other person; with an earnestness

irrepressible to go on with his own subject, and to retain to

himself the attention and the eyes--which never looked adverse to

him--of the sweet-tempered monarch.

This vivacity and this nature evidently amused the King, whose

candour and good sense always distinguished an ignorance of the

routine of forms, from the ill manners or ill will of disrespect.

The Queen, also, with a grace all her own towards those whom she

deigned to wish to please, honoured her Robekeeper’s apartment with

her presence on the following evening, by accompanying thither

the King; with the same sweetness of benevolence of seeking Mrs.

Delany, in granting an audience to Dr. Burney.

No one better understood conversation than the Queen, or

appreciated conversers with better judgment: gaily, therefore, she

drew out, and truly enjoyed, the flowing, unpracticed, yet always

informing discourse of Dr. Burney.

In 1791, Dr. Burney became a ‘member among the monthly reviewers,

under the editorship of the worthy Mr. Griffith.’ In the same year he

commences his journal in the following words:--

“1791.--This year was auspiciously begun, in the musical world,

by the arrival in London of the illustrious Joseph Haydn. ’Tis

to Salomon that the lovers of music are indebted for what the

lovers of music will call this blessing. Salomon went over himself

to Vienna, upon hearing of the death of the Prince of Esterhazy,

the great patron of Haydn, purposely to tempt that celebrated

musical genius hither; and on February 25, the first of Haydn’s

incomparable symphonies, which was composed for the concerts of

Salomon, was performed. Haydn himself presided at the piano-forte:

and the sight of that renowned composer so electrified the audience

as to excite an attention and a pleasure superior to any that

had ever, to my knowledge, been caused by instrumental music in

England. All the slow middle movements were encored; which never

before happened, I believe, in any country.”

In 1801, Dr. Burney entered into an engagement with the proprietors of

Rees’s Cyclopædia, as it is called, to furnish all its musical articles

at stated periods. He thus speaks of this enterprise in a letter to

some friend:--

“I have entered now into concerns that leave me not a minute

or a thought to bestow on other matters. Besides professional

avocations, I have deeply engaged in a work that can admit of no

delay, and which occupies every instant that I can steal from

business, friends, or sleep. A new edition, on a very enlarged

plan, of the Cyclopædia of Chambers, is now printing in two double

volumes 4to., for which I have agreed to furnish the musical

articles, on a very large scale, including whatever is connected

with the subject; not only definitions of the musical technica, but

reflections, discussions, criticism, history, and biography. The

first volume is printed, and does not finish the letter A; and in

_nine months’ hard labour_, I have not brought forth two letters.

I am more and more frightened every day at the undertaking, so

long after the usual allowance of three score years and ten have

expired. And the shortest calculation for the termination of this

work is still ten years.”

And in his letters to West Hamble on the same subject, he mentions,

that to fulfil his engagement, he generally rises at five or six

o’clock every morning--! in his seventy-sixth year.

The only entry in Dr. Burney’s journal, in the year 1803, relates to

Beethoven’s music, of the merits of which his quick discrimination

enabled him immediately to form a favourable opinion.

“Beethoven’s compositions for the piano-forte were first brought

to England by Miss Tate, a most accomplished _dilettante_ singer

and player. I soon afterwards heard some of his instrumental works,

which are such as incline me to rank him amongst the first musical

authors of the present century. He was a disciple of Mozart, and is

now but three or four and twenty years of age.”

In his journal for 1804, he mentions his retirement from his

profession, and confesses the advance of some of those infirmities

which, when within two years of becoming an octogenarian, it is rather

difficult to avoid.

“In 1804, in the month of April, I completed my 78th year, and

decided to relinquish teaching and my musical patients; for both

my ears and my eyes were beginning to fail me. I could still hear

the most minute musical tone; but in conversation I lost the

articulation, and was forced to make people at the least distance

from me repeat everything that they said. Sometimes the mere tone

of voice, and the countenance of the speaker, told me whether I

was to smile or to frown; but never so explicitly as to allow me

to venture at any reply to what was said! Yet I never, seemingly,

have been more _in fashion_ at any period of my life than this

spring; never invited to more conversaziones, assemblées, dinners,

and concerts. But I feel myself less and less able to bear a part

in general conversation every day, from the failure of memory,

particularly in names; and I am become fearful of beginning any

story that occurs to me, lest I should be stopped short by hunting

for Mr. How-d’ye-call-him’s style and titles.

“I was very near-sighted from about my 30th year; but though it is

usually thought that that sort of sight improves with age, I have

not discovered that the notion was well founded. My sight became

not only more short, but more feeble. Instead of a concave glass,

I was forced to have recourse to one that was convex, and that

magnified highly, for pale ink and small types.”

Dr. Burney meets the Prince of Wales at Lady Salisbury’s, and, of

course, is enchanted by him. At the same party is Lady Melbourne, an

old pupil of the Doctor, who reproaches him with never having been

to dine with her, and promptly mixes up a party, in which the heir

apparent and the musical historian are the chief ingredients. The

Prince and the Doctor agree surprisingly well in their opinions, and

meet again afterwards at the Opera, where their unanimity is not less

remarkable. But a few months later, Dr. Burney being on a visit to

the Duke of Portland, at Bulstrode, is in company with Lord and Lady

Darnley, with whom he did not so well agree in matters of musical taste.

“They came in,” he says in his journal, “while I was dressing,

and I had not heard their names, and knew not who they were.

Unacquainted, therefore, with the bigoted devotion to the exclusive

merit of Handel that I had to encounter, I got into a hot dispute

that I should else, at the Duke’s house, have certainly avoided.

The expression ‘modern refinements,’ happened to escape me, which

both my lord and his lady, with a tone of consummate contempt,

repeated: ‘Modern refinements, indeed!’ ‘Well, then,’ cried I,

‘let us call them modern changes of style and taste; for what one

party calls refinements, the other, of course, constantly calls

corruption and deterioration.’ They were quite irritated at this;

and we all three went to it ding-dong! I made use of the same

arguments that I have so often used in my musical writings,--that

ingenious men can not have been idle during a century; and the

language of sound is never stationary, any more than that of

conversation and books. New modes of expression, new ideas from

new discoveries and inventions, required new phrases: and in the

cultivation of instruments, as well as of the voice, emulation

would produce novelty, which, above all things, is wanted in music.

And to say that the symphonies of Haydn, and the compositions of

Mozart and Beethoven, have no merit because they are not like

Handel, Corelli, and Geminiani,--or to say that the singing of

a Pacchierotti, a Marchese, a Banti, or a Billington, in their

several styles, is necessarily inferior to singers and compositions

of the days of Handel,--is supposing time to stand still.”

In 1805, the King visited and closely inspected Chelsea College, of

which Dr. Burney was resident organist; and he had the honour to

be summoned to the royal presence, when a long conversation, very

diligently recorded in the Doctor’s journal, took place, of which the

following is a small portion:--

“‘And what are you doing now, Dr. Burney?’ said the King.

“‘I am writing for the new Cyclopædia, Sir.’

“‘I am glad the subject of music,’ he answered, ‘should be in such

good hands.’

“And then, with an arch smile, he added: ‘For the essay writers and

the periodical writers are all, I believe, to a man, at this time,

Jacobins.’

“And afterwards, with a good-humoured laugh, he said: ‘That disease

(the Jacobin) was first caught here, I believe, by the poets;

and then by the actors; and now the infection has caught all the

singers, and dancers, and fiddlers.’”

Nearly all the poets thus alluded to are still living, but most of them

are entirely recovered from such diseases. The dancers and fiddlers

so elegantly spoken of, and in the plural number, to avoid apparent

personality, were, we conjecture, M. Didelot and Mr. Viotti, both of

whom were, for a time, obliged to leave this country.

Dr. Burney all his life had been a zealous Tory, but the Tories

never showed their zeal for him. In 1806, when the Whigs came into

office, the united efforts of Mr. Windham and Mr. Fox procured for the

historian of music a pension of £300--a grant which, it is not saying

much when we assert, was more justly obtained in this instance, than in

nine cases out of ten in which the royal prerogative has been exercised.

Not only was the latter part of Dr. Burney’s life rendered comfortable

through the instrumentality of that party for which he, and still

more his daughter, entertained so great a horror, but he was destined

to have an honour of the highest kind conferred on him by Jacobinism

itself; for about this time the _Institut National de France_ elected

him a member of the _Classe des Beaux Arts_; and we have reason to

know that he considered this as one of the most flattering events

of his life; though his daughter, governed by prejudice rather than

that exactness which ought to be the chief aim of a biographer, would

lead us to believe that the distinction thus conferred was not only

embarrassing, but somewhat disagreeable to him.

We now are fast approaching the close of Dr. Burney’s life, and the

termination of this Memoir. One of the best remarks that have, in the

progress of these three volumes, fallen from Madame d’Arblay’s pen, is

the following, introducing the last entry made by her father in his

journal. The date is 1813.

Sir Joshua Reynolds desired that the last name he should pronounce

in public should be that of Michael Angelo; and Dr. Burney

seems to purpose that the last name he should transmit--if so

allowed--through his annals to posterity, should be that of Haydn.

“Finding a blank leaf at the end of my journal, it may be used in

the way of postscriptum, in speaking of the prelude or opening of

Haydn’s Creation, to observe, that though the generality of the

subscribers were unable to disentangle the studied confusion in

delineating chaos, yet, when dissonance was tuned, when order was

established, and God said,

‘Let there be light!--and there was light!’

‘_Que la lumière soit!--et la lumière fut!_’

the composer’s meaning was felt by the whole audience, who

instantly broke in upon the performers with rapturous applause

before the musical period was closed.”

The winter of 1814 was remarkable for its severity, and made its

impression on the feeble frame of Dr. Burney. Spring, however, had

arrived, and he flattered himself, or rather flattered his numerous

and affectionate family, that he had triumphed over the effects of so

inclement a season. But he was deceived: the exertion to resist its

influence had cost all his remaining strength, and more genial weather

found him utterly exhausted.

On the 12th of April he almost suddenly exhibited symptoms which showed

that nature could make no further effort, and he remained in a state

nearly approaching insensibility, till the 15th, in the evening of

which day he tranquilly breathed his last. A detailed account of this

event is given in a letter written at the time by Madame d’Arblay

to her husband, General d’Arblay, then in Paris, and this narrative

may be mentioned as one of the best parts of the whole work; though

it evidently has received recent touches that have not improved what

we can imagine to have been the more natural tone and style of the

original.

* * * * *

A memoir of so distinguished a literary character, of so excellent a

musical critic, as Dr. Burney, cannot be read without exciting a very

considerable degree of interest, particularly as coming from the pen of

a celebrated writer; and, still more especially, as embodying numerous

anecdotes of persons who filled such prominent stations, and shone with

so much brilliancy, during a period that may almost be called our own.

Had the whole been written with the spirit and in the manner of those

early letters which Madame d’Arblay has here so judiciously published

in all their native vivacity and unaffected simplicity, the work would

have been delightful and irreproachable: but, unhappily, she delayed

putting together her materials till that judgment, once so strong, was

no longer in full vigour; till advancing age had somewhat lessened

those qualifications which, at the time when she was deprived of her

highly-gifted, excellent, and venerable parent, she, most undeniably,

possessed for the performance of such a task.

Vain would it be to express a wish that Madame d’Arblay could be

induced to publish what we will venture to call a castigated edition

of this Memoir; her age renders it next to impossible that such a hope

should be realized: but the time probably will come, when what she

has here collected will be revised, be combined in a very different

manner, and then form a work worthy of being classed among the most

entertaining of the many pieces of biography in which the literature of

our country abounds.

ON THE RE-INTRODUCTION OF THE LYRE,

_In its most ancient form of a four-stringed Instrument._

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~,

We have lately seen the guitar, an instrument nearly new to this

country, introduced among us, and acquire great popularity. This was

an instrument of the Greeks, though far less a favourite than the

lyre. Why, then, should not the lyre be now found to possess yet

higher recommendations? The fact of its origin in Greece, and the high

estimation in which it was held by that people, prove, at least, that

it deserves our study.

The strings of the lyre, it appears, were gradually increased from four

to forty. The lyre of Apollo had only four strings; and the number of

seven continued to be established by law at Sparta, so late as the time

of Timotheus, who attempted an innovation in adding four more, and was

condemned for it.

Some circumstances render it, in my opinion, probable that, in playing

on the lyre, the ancients stopped the strings, at various places, by

means of some metallic substance, in order to produce a great variety

of notes. Probably the plectrum might occasionally be used for that

purpose. It was, indeed, scarcely possible that their κιθαρα should so

perfectly resemble the guitar of the present day (as observed in the

sequel), without suggesting to them the stopping of the strings of the

lyre.

The violin seems to me to be only a modification of the earliest lyre,

having attached to it a vast body for the purpose of increasing sound,

a contraction in the middle to allow the application of the bow, and an

elongated neck to permit the same hand at once to support it against

the shoulder and to stop the strings.

What has been gained by these changes?--By the body, loudness of

tone; by the bow, continuity; and by the neck, a new mode of at once

supporting and stopping.

What is the relative value of these changes?--Great loudness may be no

advantage. Continuity may not be desirable, even when the voice is not

engaged; and it never is so where the instrument is employed as a mere

accompaniment. A new mode of at once supporting and stopping is only of

use in this new application of the instrument.

What has been lost by these changes?--for it is really possible that

we may have lost something by _improving_ upon the Greeks, and that

improvement upon the lyre of Apollo may deserve to be classed with

improvements on the Philippics of Demosthenes, on the Iliad of Homer,

on the Parthenon of Phidias, &c.--Why, by the body, we may have lost

somewhat of the freer aërial vibration when we gained so much of the

woody or boxy one, for these should bear a certain relation to each

other; by the bow, we may have lost the natural ring of musical chords,

when we gained the ever distinguishable scrape of horse-hair and rosin;

and by the neck, we may have lost a more perfect stop, by trying at

once to stop and support.

It is worthy of remark, that the mere external beauty of all

instruments of this kind is destroyed by a large body or sounding-box.

The most beautiful forms of the lyre, among the Greeks, had least of

this; and even the guitar had a body proportionately small, if we may

judge from that of which a figure, hitherto I believe unobserved, may

be seen sculptured among the Townley marbles in the British Museum--No.

35 of the fifth room.

The violin has, in regard to beauty of form, too large a body. It looks

something like the shell of a large crab with a tail attached to it.

The bow, however, gives an external vibration which compensates for

this; and it would almost seem that we might consider the length of the

bow as added to that of the strings.

In the construction of stringed instruments, nothing seems more

wonderful than that the strings should be incapable of producing what

may be called musical sound, except in connexion with some hollow

wooden or other body; that the vibrations of the former should seem

incapable of being communicated to the air; and that, though the

latter is itself incapable of producing any musical sound, it should

so accurately communicate, and, as it were, enforce, the power of each

otherwise silent string which is attached to it.--This subject requires

further observation and inquiry.

So much for the body at present.--I would more particularly dwell on

the great advantage resulting from the absence of that continuity of

tone which is produced by the bow, where the instrument is a mere

accompaniment.

Where tones are emitted in consequence of strings not being struck or

rubbed, but merely set free from the finger, where these tones assist

and verify the voice, and yet, owing to their peculiar quality, in

no way interfere with it, and where, from want of continuity, they

gradually fall while the tones of the voice steadily proceed, or even

rise,--a beautiful contrast is formed, the voice acquires an accuracy,

boldness, and independence which could not otherwise be obtained by it,

and all its power and splendour are displayed to the utmost advantage.

It was evidently this change from non-continuity to continuity of tone,

and the corresponding change of position, which unfitted the violin for

an accompaniment to the voice, and which leave to the lyre its high

prerogative in this respect.

These reflections have led me to propose the restoration of the lyre,

and that in its most ancient form, as a four-stringed instrument;

for such form would be attended with a great advantage, namely, that

the whole of the violin music at present extant would be instantly

applicable to it.

Its advantages over the violin or violoncello played pizzicato, are

its far greater beauty of form, the absence of the wooden tone, the

freedom of its strings, and its capability of a fuller harmony--a vast

recommendation in these days.

The lyre is indeed altogether unrivalled for beauty of form. It may be

constructed of any size to avoid the wooden tone of the sounding-box.

Its strings, which vibrate with perfect freedom, may be accurately

stopped by means of a metallic instrument. Half or quarter notes may

be produced on it; and these may be run into each other, upward or

downward, by carrying the stop correspondingly over the string.

It is not, however, enough to propose this: I have carried into

practice what I recommend. By merely cutting away the finger-board

of an old lute, reducing it to the length of a violin, and fitting

it up with four strings, I have procured a lyre which fulfils every

expectation that can reasonably be founded on such a transformation.

Great beauty and even splendour may, however, be given to the form of

the lyre, and of these it is quite worthy, for its capabilities seem to

have little limit. I have no doubt, therefore, that it is destined to

become, in the hands of the vocalist, precisely what the violin is in

those of the instrumentalist.

~Donald Walker.~

A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF TAMBURINI. ~By~ M. CASTIL BLAZE.

Antonio Tamburini, the man who has brought base singing to its utmost

perfection, was born at Faenza, March 28, 1800. He was the son of

Pasquale Tamburini and Luigia Collina. His father was a professor

of music at Faenza, playing on the clarionet, the horn, and the

trumpet. He quitted this town and went to Fossombrone, near Ancona,

where he became the director of the musicians entertained by the

municipal authorities. Antonio accompanied his father, who taught

him the rudiments of music, and then gave him lessons on the horn.

At the age of nine the young Tamburini played this instrument very

well, though it never pleased him; but the fatigue attendant on its

practice in the case of so young a subject, brought on a serious

illness, which determined his father to change the object of his son’s

musical studies. When his health was perfectly re-established, he was

placed under the Maestro di Capello at Fossombrone, who exercised him

continually in the solfeggi, and then brought him forward in all the

churches of the town and its environs. He was everywhere admired for

the beauty of his voice; but when he was twelve years old, his father’s

engagement at Fossombrone being ended, they returned to his native town

of Faenza, where he was engaged at the theatre to sing the soprano

parts in the chorus. The smallest towns in Italy possess their musical

artists of the first merit; and such singers as Mombelli, David, and

Donzelli, did not disdain to assist at the theatre of Faenza during the

fair. Our youthful _choriste_ heard and admired their execution; he

profited by what he heard, and without receiving lessons from any one,

formed his own style on the models that he had thus daily opportunities

of witnessing. He divided his time between the church and the theatre,

as is the custom in countries where music still forms a prominent

part in the service of the temple. His assistance was required in the

chapels of all the neighbouring convents, where his fine voice and

delicate and florid execution were the theme of universal admiration.

At eighteen Tamburini resolved to see the world, and, without bidding

adieu to his parents, this nightingale of Faenza took flight for

Bologna, the rendezvous of all those pretenders to musical fame who,

possessing moderate talent, come there hoping to form engagements with

the managers of various corps of itinerant artists who seek for such to

fill their ranks; and with one of these, who was forming a _troupe_ for

the theatre at Cento, he associated himself.

In the mean time the delicate _soprano_ of Tamburini had become a

fine _base_, at once sonorous and flexible--full of expression and

pathos, and, at the same time, capable of executing with ease rapid

and brilliant passages. He made his débût in the town of Cento, in _La

Contessa di Col-Erboso_ of Generali, and was agreeably surprised by

the reception he met with: the measured and moderate praises bestowed

on him in his native town had not prepared him for the enthusiastic

plaudits that awaited this his débût in the first rank of dramatic

character as a base singer. However, such was his success, that it

emboldened the leader to advertise a representation for the benefit

of this highly-favoured débutant: honour was, however, all that he

derived from this evening’s success; the profit went to the funds of

the _troupe_. At Mirandola, at Correggio, his success was the same: at

the latter place he met with Azioli, who congratulated him on his voice

and his talent, telling him at the same time, that with more regular

study he would probably have had less brilliant success. Their musical

tour completed, the _troupe_ returned to Bologna, where one of the

actors proposed to ask for the Teatro Contavalli, for the purpose of

giving representations, but Tamburini distrusted his powers, nor could

the favourable reception he had hitherto met with make him confident of

success with the more refined audience of Bologna. In this diffidence

none shared, and it was determined that the attempt should be made.

The dilettanti of Bologna confirmed the judgment already given at

Cento, Mirandola, and Correggio; in consequence, he was immediately

engaged for the theatre at Piacenza, during the Carnival of 1819. Here

Tamburini found a much more extensive musical library, and was enabled

thus to quit the circumscribed path he had hitherto trodden, and to

launch out at once into the wide field of Rossini’s compositions. He

appeared first in the _Cenerentola_, and his fame spreading rapidly,

Rimbaldi came express from Naples to judge of the merits of this

youthful pretender, and finding that report had not exaggerated his

talents, immediately engaged him for the Teatro Nuovo in that city. If

his débût here was not marked by that enthusiastic applause which had

awaited him in other places, his success was not the less solid, being

only delayed by the caution of a fastidious public, which here, as in

Paris, withholds its praise till the judgment is entirely satisfied. It

is enough to say, his engagement was renewed for the next season.

During these two years, Pavesi, Generali, Cordella, and Mercadante,

wrote for Tamburini. The troubles of 1820 causing the theatres of

Naples to be closed, he went to Florence, where he was attacked by a

serious indisposition, which checked for a time his career of fame.

From Florence he went to Leghorn for the Carnival; and from thence

to Turin. In the autumn of 1822 he appeared on the immense stage of

La Scala, at Milan, and met here with Mlle. Marietta Gioja, a singer

of much merit and most agreeable figure, to whom he was soon after

married. Passing through Venice, on his road to Trieste, where he was

engaged for the Carnival, he was stopped by a mandate too powerful

and too flattering to be resisted, that he might assist at two

representations of _Il Matrimonio Segreto_, in presence of the Emperors

of Germany and Russia, and at the concerts given to them and their

court.

He afterwards proceeded to Venice to fulfil his engagement there,

whence he went to Sicily, and remained two years at Palermo. A singular

story is told of him during his residence in that city, where a

custom prevails of allowing, during the first day of the Carnival,

the audience at the theatres to interrupt and drown the performance

by every sort of discordant noise. The prima donna, offended at this

licence, refused to perform her part; the people were furious; and

Tamburini, who had once before allayed the storm by his ready wit, now

undertook to go through the scene in the dress of Elisa, and in the

high tones of his clear falsetto, which he is said to have done with

the most perfect success, contriving even to perform the duet, with

which the scene concludes, by rapidly changing from the high notes of

the female part to the deep and full tones of his own natural voice. He

gave another proof of the versatility of his talent at Naples, where

the principal woman having, through sudden illness, lost her power of

singing, he went through the whole aria while she leaned motionless on

his shoulder. After he quitted Palermo, he entered into an engagement

with Barbaja for four years, during which he appeared at Milan, at

Vienna, and at Genoa, for the opening of the Carlo-Felice. He was then

recalled to Naples by Barbaja, with whom he had renewed his engagement.

After two years of uninterrupted success at Naples, he came to London;

thence he proceeded to Paris, where he made his débût on the 7th of

October, 1832, in his favourite part of Dandini in _La Cenerentola_.

Tamburini is a good actor; his figure is manly, and his exterior is

altogether noble and prepossessing; his acting is full of spirit and

gaiety. His voice is a fine baritone, well defined, extending from ~A~

to ~F~, occasionally reaching ~G~♯, and sometimes descending to ~G~♭.

I might have allotted to him the two full octaves without reserve, but

I prefer to retrench the semitone, above and below, that I may give to

his voice and tone the full praise it merits. It is round, rich, and

clear, of wonderful flexibility, and such astonishing firmness, that

it is impossible to suspect any note is passed over unperceived. He

has the neatness and precision of execution that Ber and Barizel have

acquired on the clarionet or bassoon. The tone is equal in its whole

extent, taking and holding ~F~♯ with as much ease as a tenor voice

would do, or running over the notes with a vivacity unheard of till

now; while its pathetic tones, in the cavatina from _La Straniera,

Mai tu vieni o misera_, move the hearer even to tears. The parts of

Dandini and of Figaro show his comic powers, his good taste, and the

astonishing rapidity of his articulation. No singer has yet displayed

so much grace in the andante from _La Cenerentola, Come un Ape_. The

part of Valdeburgo, in _La Straniera_, and of Uberto in _l’Agnese_ of

Paer, have taught us to appreciate his pathetic powers, and even to

the insignificant part of Faraone, in _Mosè_, he has given a degree of

importance which does honour to his powers. Such brilliant successes

could not fail to induce our directors of the Italian Opera in Paris to

engage Tamburini for the ensuing season.

ON PRIZES FOR GLEES.

~Sir~, _London, May 18th, 1833_.

The adjudication, last Tuesday, of the premium given by the Catch-Club

for the best glee, has very much excited the notice of amateurs as well

as professors. Not that the taste, much less the impartiality, of those

who voted on the occasion is at all seriously impugned, for they had

nothing but second-rate compositions to deal with, though one which was

rejected is superior to either of the two selected for final choice.

But great regret is openly expressed that the members of so long

established, so distinguished a musical society,--a society to which we

are indebted for the finest works of their kind that this, their native

country, ever produced,--should now, when genius is not abundant,

bind themselves to award their prize, whether the candidates do or do

not establish a just claim to it. Suppose, it is said, that next year

another Cooke, another Webbe, a Stafford Smith, or a Callcott, should

start up, would any of these feel honoured by a premium that had been

bestowed on compositions with which they would hardly have deigned to

compete?

You probably may ask what remedy there is for the evil? I will

endeavour to point one out; and I think that those who have to

discharge a duty which often is so perplexing and comfortless, will be

inclined to listen at least to my proposal. My remedy is this:--let it

not be imperative on the club to give the prize when the _positive_

merits of the claimants are insufficient to entitle any one of them to

the reward. Sometimes it happens that two or more competitors, of great

and equal ability, appear together; in such cases it is a very painful

task to make the selection. Now, if the judges held in hand, had at

their disposal, one or more _deferred_ prizes, they would possess

the means to reward merit when it should appear in a plurality of

instances, and thus stimulate to further exertion those who might be at

once depressed by having their reasonable hopes disappointed, and whose

failure might prevent them from making another effort. For real genius,

Sir, is always sensitive, and sometimes is easily discouraged; while

plodding mediocrity is devoid of the finer feelings, is persevering,

and ready to profit by the dearth of real, of commanding talent.

I wish it to be understood, however, that I have no intention that the

latter observation should be applied to any individual whatever,--it is

meant to be quite general, not personal.

I have the honour to be, &c.

~An Amateur.~

REVIEW OF NEW MUSIC.

SACRED MUSIC.

1. ~Te Deum~, ~Jubilate~, ~Magnificat~, and ~Nunc Dimittis~, _in

score, for four voices, with an accompaniment, composed by the_

Rev. ~Edward Shuttleworth~, _Curate of Chorley_. (Preston.)

2. ~Set of Hymns~, _for three voices, from ‘Church and Home

Psalmody,’ by the_ Rev. ~T. J. Judkin~, M.A., _composed by_ ~D.

Crivelli~. (The Author, Upper Norton-street.)

3. ~The Sacred Musical Offering~; _the Poetry by_ ~Bishop Heber~,

Mrs. ~Hemans~, &c.; _the Music by_ ~Beethoven~, ~Mozart~, &c.,

_edited by_ ~C. H. Purday~. (Purday.)

4. ~The Monthly Sacred Minstrel~, _edited by_ ~John Goss~. Nos. 1

and 2. (Cramer and Co.)

We have more than once taken the liberty to offer it as our opinion,

that, as an amusement, and to fill up those leisure moments which every

profession, if prudently pursued, must afford, music is the fittest

for the clergy, not only because it is intellectual and innocent,

but inasmuch as it enables a divine to superintend and regulate an

influential, therefore an important, part of the church service. A

knowledge of this art qualifies him to advise and direct his organist

and his singers, who, in most cases, stand much in need of counsel,

for want whereof they not unfrequently, though we are persuaded

unintentionally, run many risks of making ridiculous that which should

excite nothing but associations and feelings of the gravest and calmest

kind.

The author of the first of the above publications is, clearly, a good

musician; the whole of his Service is evidence of this, though it does

not enable us to add that it exhibits much invention. The plan long

laid down has here been followed with a scrupulousness which, probably,

Mr. Shuttleworth considers a duty: if he has erred, his error is on the

right side, for any attempt to over-modernize, to radically change, the

form of our church music, is to be deprecated and resisted. This is a

Verse Service in ~F~, not elaborately written, pleasing melody, harmony

good but not deep, and a correct accentuation of the words, appearing

to have been the great objects of the composer, in which he has

succeeded. Those choirs, consequently, which are anxious to increase

their library, may safely add the present work to their collection.

* * * * *

Mr. Crivelli’s Hymns are creditable to his taste, and likewise show

that he has made himself better acquainted with our language than is

the case with most of his countrymen. Nevertheless he has wanted--and

this is by no means surprising--some little assistance in adjusting his

notes to English poetry, though the instances of error are few, and

correction may easily be applied by the intelligent singer. The hymns

are six in number, four for soprano, contr’alto, (or low soprano,)

and base; and two for soprano, tenor, and base. The style is an

intentional, but not heterogeneous mixture of Italian and English; the

parts are vocal and easy, and the accompaniment is simple without being

meagre.

No. 3 is an elegant volume in quarto, with frontispiece, presentation

plate, gilt leaves, and all the exterior decorations of the best

musical annuals. Its interior, too, corresponds, in some degree, with

its outside appearance; of the twenty compositions contained in the

volume, nearly all are respectable, and some much to be commended.

Two by Neükomm have much pleased us; also one each by Dr. Carnaby and

Edwin Nielson. An adaptation of a quartet by Mozart, said to be his

last composition, is a good piece of simple harmony: and the very air

by Beethoven which is given in its true form in our present number,

is here adapted to words; but much altered in many respects, and

transposed from ~A~ flat to ~G~--we need not say, very detrimentally.

The words upon the whole suit the music very well; but an exception

cannot but be made as regards the third in the set, ‘Oh! read to me,’

where we find more blunders than we supposed could have been gathered

together in three pages;--e. g. _promises_; _penitent_;--‘of’ and

‘its,’ occupying half a bar each, and moreover the accented half,

&c.: nevertheless, the volume contains enough to make it worth the

price which all experienced people will buy it at. The _marked_ price,

indeed, is moderate.

* * * * *

No. 4 is a nicely got up little work in octavo, published in numbers,

each containing eight pages. In the present two numbers are five

pieces,--an air by Neükomm, from his oratorio; one by Mr. Goss; the

Vesper Hymn, by Attwood, originally published in the _Harmonicon_,

which ought to have been acknowledged; an Elegy for three voices, by

Eisenhofer; and a movement from Beethoven’s Septet, with words very

well set to it. This is a publication entitled to much commendation;

but what will the brethren of the music trade say to so cheap a work?

Surely Messrs. Cramer and Co. will be anathematized by the fraternity!

* * * * *

PIANO-FORTE.

1. ~Impromptu Musicale~ _sur la Ronde_ Bacchique des Démons de la

Tentation, _composée par_ ~F. Kalkbrenner~. Op. 114. (Goulding and

D’Almaine.)

2. L’Hermite, 3me. ~Rondo~, _sur des thêmes de_ La Tentation,

(_Musique de_ ~Halevy~) _arrangée par_ ~Adolphe Adam~. (Chappell.)

Whether it is that the state of the country influences the publication

of music of this class, or that the extravagancies and inanities with

which we have so long been deluged have at length produced the effect

which was to be expected, we will leave our readers to determine;

certain it is that very few compositions for the piano-forte have

appeared this spring--a season in which they usually are so abundant

that we have found it difficult to keep pace with them, and indeed have

generally been deeply in arrear with composers of all descriptions.

Our belief is, that music requiring nothing but mechanical powers of

execution, in which neither taste nor invention have any share, has

had its day--a very long one; but people are growing more rational,

common sense is returning, and with it will be again opened to us

those rich stores of the great masters, the access to which has been

almost choked up by the rubbish that has issued in cart-loads from the

shops, and been recommended by nine masters in every ten throughout the

country. Haydn and Mozart will again be met with in the drawing-room;

Beethoven’s best and most reasonable works will once more be placed

before the fashionable amateur; Dussek’s, Clementi’s and Steibelt’s

works, with the early ones of Cramer, will be restored; and even Handel

and Corelli must speedily be acknowledged to possess as much claim to

notice as Czerny, Pixis, and _id genus omne_.

The two rondos before us are from an opera very popular in Paris;

indeed we are indebted to the theatre for all our most modern

piano-forte music. The first air--if air it may be called, which,

though it has rhythm, possesses little melody--is simple enough, being

nearly all confined to the following notes:--

[Illustration]

Mr. Kalkbrenner has of course very much extended it, by passages, one

or two of which bring back good old harmony to our recollection, by

others not inappropriate, and none difficult; but altogether this has

not many pleasing qualities to recommend it.

* * * * *

No. 2 is an agreeable though not a very uncommon air. M. Adam has

enlarged it in a familiar manner certainly, for while about his task,

if a task it proved, he was not able to call up a single new thought.

And let us caution him against such left-hand passages as

[Illustration]

they are intolerable, and send one back to the horn-book of music. They

are, it is true, to be met with now and then in some few of the old and

excellent masters; but in reviving the works of these--which will soon

be set about--all such twaddle must be carefully expunged.

* * * * *

1. ~Introduction~ _and_ ~Rondino~ _in the air_, ‘Under the

Walnut-tree,’ _composed by_ ~T. A. Rawlings~. (Chappell.)

2. ~Military Divertimento~, _in which is introduced a favourite

Spanish Air, composed by_ ~James Calkin~. (Chappell.)

It will be supposed, from the wording of the title-page of No. 1, that

the air is the composition of Mr. Rawlings, whereas it is the very

melody that lately produced the controversy between the author and Mr.

Gödbe, and to which our pages gave publicity. The best part of the air,

in fact, is Stephen Storace’s, though it is very possible that Mr.

George Linley, who claims it, had it floating in his memory, without

being aware that it had any rightful owner. Mr. Rawlings has increased

its dimensions by some exceedingly commonplace descant, and the guilt

of employing the very base which we have above reprobated he shares in

common with M. Adolphe Adam. The whole is easy and inoffensive, with

the exception we mention.

To criticise No. 2 would be to break a butterfly on a wheel. A

butterfly!--most of the papilio tribe are beautiful, a quality not at

all perceptible in this one-part-milk-and-nine parts-water production,

craving the reader’s pardon for so long a compound; which epithet,

however, overrates the strength of the composition under notice.

* * * * *

1. ~Divertimento~ _from_ ~Bellini’s~ Pirata, _arranged by_ W.

Etherington. (Metzler.)

2. ~Rondoletto~, _composed by_ ~T. M. Mudie~. (Cramer and Co.)

In the first of these, three of the less commonly known airs in _Il

Pirata_ are woven together with some skill. The first pages are the

best, though Mr. Etherington ought to have been aware that such

reiterated triplets of the same notes as are introduced at page 2 are

ill adapted to keyed instruments. Is this, we beg leave to ask, one of

the works which the publisher sells to the _profession_, and to country

traders, at a _quarter of the marked price_?

No. 2 is a mere bagatelle, but it is a pretty trifle, and a trait or

two of originality may be traced amidst its unaffected simplicity.

* * * * *

DUETS, PIANO-FORTE.

1. ~Grand March~, The Knights-Templars, _composed by the_

~Chevalier Sigismond Neukomm~. (Chappell.)

2. _The_ ~Choruses~ _in_ ~Haydn’s~ Creation, _selected and_

arranged by ~W. Watts~. No. 5. (Cramer and Co.)

3. ~Fantasia~ _sur des Motifs favoris de_ La Fiancée d’~Auber~,

_composée par_ ~C. Czerny~. Op. 247. (Chappell.)

No. 1 is a spirited composition, in which are some good effects, but so

little of novelty of any kind is to be discovered in it, that it really

may be considered as--what most modern things are--a compilation.

* * * * *

No. 2, the fifth of a set of six, from Haydn’s oratorio, is the chorus

‘Achieved is the glorious work,’ including the lovely trio, ‘On Thee

each living soul awaits,’ arranged in Mr. Watts’s usual effective and

sensible manner.

* * * * *

No. 3, though confessedly made up of subjects by Auber, is modestly

claimed by M. Czerny as his own composition. The assurance of some few

musicians seems to have no bounds, but we really believe that it is

attributable to want of understanding, to no worse cause, therefore

make great allowances for it; though we deem it prudent to mention

the matter, in order to warn others from being guilty of the like

weakness. Here are certainly dove-tailed together some of the best

airs in the opera, and a brilliant duet is fabricated out of them,

but the present arranger can very seldom refrain from exhibiting his

musical folly, and has now filled too many pages with passages quite

irrelevant, exceedingly difficult to players in general, and producing

no satisfactory result. Let the reader not overlook one remarkable fact

recorded on the title-page of this publication,--it is M. Czerny’s

two-hundred and forty-seventh work! And he is still quite a young man.

What a treasure to the stationer! What a labourer for the cheesemonger!

* * * * *

~The Musical Scrap Book~, _edited by_ ~Finlay Dun~. No. 1. 1 vol.

4to. (_Edinburgh_, Wood and Co.)

This is a collection of ‘original and selected songs, ballads, &c. for

the voice, and polonaises, quadrilles, &c. for the piano-forte.’ Why

it should be called a _Scrap-book_ we cannot positively say, seeing

that all the pieces it contains are entire, not fragments. Perhaps it

is so named for pretty much the same reason that a multitude of leaves

covered with music-printer’s blackest ink was not long since called an

Album.--_Lucus a non lucendo_. But we forgive the misnomer, and look to

the body of the work, which, in thirty-two pages, comprises some rather

agreeable trifles, both vocal and instrumental, and three or four much

too feeble to be at all pleasant. But to make up for these, we have

the lovely andante from Mozart’s second violin quartet, arranged for

the piano-forte, and a very sweet ballad by Marschner. The work is

brought out in a neat respectable manner, and intended as a quarterly

publication.

* * * * *

VOCAL.

1. ~Terzetto~, ‘Son finite omai le Pene,’ _from the Operetta_

Amore e Psiche, _composed by_ ~Liverati~; _the Poetry by_ Signor

~Petronj~. (Lonsdale and Mills.)

2. ~Ballad~, ‘The birken Bower,’ written by ~J. Imlah~, Esq. _the

Melody by_ Mrs. ~Philip Millard~. (Chappell.)

3. ~Ballad~, ‘Hark! the merry Bells,’ _written and composed by_

Mrs. ~William Marshall~. (Gerock and Co.)

4. ~Ballad~, ‘The Rose of Peace,’ _by_ ~J. Augustine Wade~, Esq.

(Chappell.)

5. ~Song~, ‘The Archery Meeting,’ _the Poetry by_ ~T. H. Bayly~,

Esq., _the Music by_ ~G. Linley~, Esq. (Chappell.)

6. ~Ballad~, ‘The Hunter’s Bride,’ _the Poetry_ by L. E. L.,

_composed by_ ~G. Hargreaves~. (Hawes.)

7. ~Canzonet~, _from Stanzas by_ ~Percy B. Shelley~, _composed by_

~F. W. Horncastle~. (Hawes.)

8. ~Ballad~, ‘Maureen,’ _the Poetry by_ ~Barry Cornwall~, _composed

by_ ~John Goss~. (Cramer and Co.)

9. ~Canzonet~, ‘When we two parted,’ _written by_ ~Lord Byron~,

_composed by_ ~C. Rudolphus~. (Wessel and Co.)

10. ~Song~ of the Serenaders, ‘Oh! rove with me,’ _written and

composed by_ ~H. K. Sayers~, Esq. (Card.)

11. ~Ballad~, ‘When this life is o’er,’ _written and composed by_

~Henry Fase~. (Eavestaff)

12. ~Canzonet~, ‘The Sicilian Girl to the Madonna,’ _composed by_

~J. M. Harris~. (Aldridge.)

13. ~Canzonet~, ‘How sweet is Woman’s Love!’ _the words by_ ~H. G.

Knight~, Esq., _composed by_ ~J. E. Goodson~. (Falkner.)

14. ~Song~, ‘The white Cliffs of England,’ _Written by_ ~G.

Linley~, Esq., _composed by_ ~W. Newland~. (Chappell.)

15. ~Song~, ‘What Hand is that?’ _the Poetry by_ Mrs. ~Charles

Greville~, _composed by_ ~C. Eulenstein~. (Chappell.)

No. 1 is a very graceful trio for three soprano voices; and for the

convenience of those who prefer English to Italian words, the music

is also set to a translation, which is remarkably well adapted to the

notes.

* * * * *

No. 2 is a very pretty air, an imitation of Caledonian melody.

* * * * *

The whole of No. 3 may be said to be comprised in four bars, for the

ballad is nothing but a repetition of these, which have not either

novelty or beauty to recommend them.

No. 4 does not exhibit a single original feature.

* * * * *

No. 5, a humorous, clever song, is a pleasant laugh at that employment

by which idle people contrive to kill time, ycleped archery. It is

a matron who sings, and complains that one of her daughters is too

fat to wear the prize bracelets, even should she win them, and the

other so giddy that she once shot her arrow into Lady Flint’s eye,

instead of the target. Neither attract the desired notice of the male

toxophilites, who therefore are by the disappointed mother called

_cross-beaux_.

* * * * *

No. 6 is far superior to the common run of modern ballads; the air is

expressive, and the words are sensibly and pleasingly set.

* * * * *

No. 7 is the composition of a good musician, who knows how to read the

words he sets; but it is rather the fruit of labour than of inspiration.

* * * * *

No. 8 is a gentle, appropriate melody, full of good taste, and ably

accompanied.

* * * * *

No. 9 is a very charming composition, rich both in air and harmony.

Such music is worthy of such poetry. At the eighth bar of the second

page is an error in accentuation, which may be corrected thus:

[Illustration: Cold-er thy kiss]

The Words are difficult to set, certainly, but ‘kiss’ must be the

emphatic word, not ‘thy.’

* * * * *

Much of the little we have said of No. 3 applies to No. 10; we have to

add that it is a duet in F sharp.

* * * * *

Nos. 11 and 12 do not, by many degrees, reach mediocrity.

* * * * *

There are some good passages in No. 13, and the composer has well

expressed the sentiment of the words, till he arrives at nearly

the end, where he has fallen into the error of concluding with the

boisterous vulgar close with which nine out of every ten Italian

bravuras terminate.

* * * * *

The motivo of No. 14 is a pleasing air, and the accompaniment is

easy and unaffected; there are, however, certain rests improperly

placed, which break the connexion of the words, and almost lead to the

conclusion that the music was adapted, not written, to the poetry.

No. 15 is not inelegant, though, like most of the songs which every

month brings forth in such abundance, anything but new in phrase, in

cadence, in melody, and in accompaniment.

* * * * *

PIANO-FORTE AND HARP.

~Grand Duet~ _for Piano-forte and Harp, or two Piano-fortes, by_

~F. Kalkbrenner~ _and_ ~F. Dizi~. Op. 82. (Chappell.)

This, if we mistake not, was written for and performed at the

Philharmonic Concerts some years ago. It is in four movements, the

first an adagio in ~F~ minor, opening into an allegro maestoso in the

major key; the third is Mozart’s air, ‘Deh! perdona,’ in ~A~; and the

last, an allegretto in ~F~. We can here trace the scientific bias (we

wish he would more often yield to its influence) of M. Kalkbrenner,

and that delicacy of taste which is M. Dizi’s characteristic; each has

had his share in producing a spirited, elegant, and effective work, in

which there is no want of that grand essential in music, air, nor any

deficiency of that without which melody soon becomes insipid, harmony.

It is moderate in length, and displays none of those wanton, stupid

difficulties of execution which the works of some of our modern German

composers are bristled with, but should only be intrusted to good and

experienced players.

* * * * *

HARP.

1. _The_ Quatuor du Turnois. ‘Sonnez Clairons,’ _from_ Robert le

Diable, arranged as a ~Quick March~, _by_ ~N. C. Bochsa~. (Mori and

Lavenu.)

2. _The celebrated_ ~Alpine Air~, _arranged as_ a Divertimento,

_by_ ~Thomas Erard Cripps~. (Longman.)

No. 1 is the animated, animating quartet, from Meyerbeer’s last work,

arranged in an easy, but most effective manner.

* * * * *

No. 2 is certainly a very popular air, and not undeservedly so. The

adaptation is free enough from all difficulties, but we cannot say that

in other respects it is entitled so much praise.

* * * * *

VIOLIN.

1. ~Practical Rules~ _for producing_ ~Harmonic Notes~ _on the

Violin, with a Theoretical Explanation of the manner in which

Musical Notes, natural and harmonic, are produced by vibrating

Bodies, composed and arranged by an Amateur_. (Cramer, Addison, and

Beale.)

2. ~Paganini’s~ _Method of producing_ ~Harmonics~, _exemplified and

explained in a Series of Exercises, to which is added the_ Prayer

from Mosè, as performed on the _4th String by that extraordinary

Violinist, arranged by_ ~C. H. Mueller~. (Purday.)

3. ~Tricks on the Violin~, _Introduction to and Variations on_

‘Nel Cor,’ _in which are introduced some Imitations of_ Paganini’s

_Style, by_ ~C. H. Mueller~. (Cocks and Co.)

4. ~Sonata~ _on the Prayer from_ Mosè, ~Solo~, _for the_ ~Violin~

_on one String, &c., by_ ~C. H. Mueller~. (Purday.)

Now and then, though very rarely, it may be desirable to have

recourse to the harmonics of the violin. In certain passages they

prevent the inconvenience of taking the finger from a particular

string, and obviate the necessity of sudden and extreme shifts, but

it is a question whether such passages should ever be written for

the instrument; more especially, as is commonly the case, when they

introduce notes so high as to be almost inappreciable, and so weak as

to be scarcely audible. The compass of the violin, including nearly

three octaves of distinct and easily produced sounds, is surely range

sufficient for all rational purposes; and it is our decided opinion

that, except in a few instances which just serve to prove the rule, an

extension of the scale of this instrument beyond what may be called its

natural boundary, is of no practical utility, and would scarcely ever

be resorted to, but for the purpose of displaying the dexterity of the

performer.

The author of the first of these works was induced to inquire into the

manner of producing harmonics in consequence of hearing so much of

Paganini’s performances, and repeated trials led to the rules he has

here laid down. But, resolved to test the accuracy of his practical

results by philosophical investigation, he submitted them to a friend

skilful in the theory of vibrations, who demonstrated their truth, and

has furnished Part III. of the present publication,--‘An Account of the

Theory of the Vibration of Musical Strings, explaining the production

of the Harmonic Notes on any Stringed Instrument,’ which is executed

in a scientific manner, though it will not be so clear to the mere

violinist as probably the author expects[56].