dust, when one of the three courtiers whom fortune had favoured not to fall by the hand of Crichtoun, cried aloud, Hold, hold; kill not the prince: at which words the courteous Crichtoun recoyling, and putting himself out of distance, the prince pulled off his vizard, and throwing it away, shew his face so fully, that the noble-hearted Crichtoun, being sensible of his mistake, and sorry so many of the prince's servants should have enforced him, in his own defence, to become the actor of their destruction, made unto the prince a very low obeisance; and setting his left knee to the ground (as if he had been to receive the honour of knighthood) with his right-hand presented him the hilt of his own conquering sword, with the point thereof towards his own breast, wishing his highness to excuse his not knowing him in that disguise, and to be pleased to pardon what unluckily had ensued upon the necessity of his defending himself, which (at such an exigent) might have befallen to any other, that were not minded to abandon their lives to the indiscretion of others. The prince, in the throne of whose judgement the rebellious vapours of the tun had installed Nemesis, and caused the irascible faculty shake off the sovereignty of reason, being without himself, and unable to restraine the impetuosity of the wills first motion, runs Crichtoun through the heart with his own sword, and kills him: in the interim of which lamentable accident, the sweet and beautiful lady (who by this time had slipped herself into a cloth-ofgold petticoat, in the anterior fente whereof was an asteristick pouch, wherein were inchased fifteen several diamonds, representative of the constellation of the primest stars in the signe of Virgo; had enriched a tissue gown and wastecoat of brocado with the precious treasure of her ivory body: and put the foot-stalls of those marble-pillars which did support her microcosme, into a paire of incarnation velvet-slippers embroidered with purple) being descended to the lower door (which jetted out to the courtwards) she rending her garments, and tearing her hair, like one of the graces possest with a fury, spoke thus: "O villains! what have you done? you vipers of men, that have thus basely slain the valiant Crichtoun, the sword of his own sexe, and buckler of ours, the glory of this age, and restorer of the lost honour of the court of Mantua: O Crichtoun, Crichtoun!" At which last words, the prince hearing them uttered by the lady in the world he loved best, and of the man in the world he most affected, was suddenly seized upon by such extremity of sorrow for the unhappiness of that lamentable mischance, that not being able to sustaine the rays of that beauty, whose piercing aspect made him conscious of his guilt, he fell flat upon his face like to a dead man: but knowing omne simile not to be idem, he quickly arose; and, to make his body be what it appeared, fixed the hilt

of the sword wherewith he had killed Crichtoun, fast betwixt two stones, at the foot of a marble statue standing in the court (after the fashion of those staves with iron pikes at both ends (commonly called Swedish feathers) when stuck into the ground to fence musketeers from the charge of horse) then having recoyled a little from it, was fetching a race to run his breast (which for that purpose he had made open) upon the point thereof (as did Cato Uticensis after his lost hopes of the recovery of the commonwealth of Rome) and assuredly (according to that his intent) had made a speedy end of himself, but that his three gentlemen (one by stopping him in his course, another by laying hold on him by the middle, and the third by taking away the sword) hindred the desperate project of that autochthony. The prince being carried away in that mad, frantick, and distracted humour (befitting a bedlam better than a serralio) into his own palace, where all manner of edge-tools were kept from him all that sad night for fear of executing his former designe of selfmurder," &c. &c. &c.

And now since we have got into the making of quotations from Sir Thomas Urquhart, we must really be pardoned if we venture upon giving one more passage, which is a very ancient favourite with more than one of our fraternity. It is from the "Epistle Luminary" to this most singular work "The Jewel," and contains a minute history of the manner in which he got up that work for the press. The secret of our own partiality for the passage is, that it comes very near far less pretensions than Sir Thomas what sometimes happens to writers of Urquhart; but we might very safely leave our readers to draw their inferences for themselves.

"Thus my task increasing, and not being able to inlarge my time, for the cause aforesaid, I was necessitated to husband it the better, to over-triple my diligence, and do the work by proportion of above three dayes in the space of one; wherefore, laying aside al other businesses, and cooping myself up daily for some hours together, betwixt the case and the printing press; I usually afforded the setter Copy, at the rate of above a whole printed sheet in the day; which, although, by reason of the smallness of a Pica letter, and close couching thereof, it did amount to three full sheets of my writing; the aforesaid setter, nevertheless (so nimble a workman he was) would, in the space of twenty-four hours make a dispatch of the whole, and be ready for another sheet. He and I striving thus, who should compose fastest, he with his hand, and I with my brain; and his uncasing of the letters, and placing them in the composing instrument, standing for my conception; & his plenish

tag of the gally, and imposing of the form, encountering with the supposed equivalue of my writing; we would, almost every foot so jump together in this joynt expedition, and so nearly overtake other in our intended course, that I was oftentimes (to keep him doing) glad to tear off parcels of ten or twelve lines a piece, and give him them, till more were ready; unto which, he would so suddenly put an order, that almost still, before the ink of the writen letters was dry, their representatives were (out of their respective boxes) ranked in the composingstick; by means of which great haste, I writing but upon the loosc sheets of cordingquires, which (as I minced and tore them) looking like pieces of waste paper, troublesome to get rallyed, after such dispersive scattredness, I had not the leisure to read what I had written till it came to a proof, and sometimes to a full revise: so that by virtue of this unanimous contest, and joint emulation, betwixt the theoretic and practical part, which of us should overhye other in celerity, we in the space of fourteen working dais, compleated this whole book (such as it is) from the first notion of the brain, till the last motion of the press: and that, without any other help on my side, either of quick or dead, (for books I had none, nor possibly would I have made use

of any, although I could have commanded them) then what (by the favour of God) my own judgment and fancy did suggest unto me; save so much as by way of information, a servant of mine would now and then bring to me, from some reduced officer of the primitive Parliament, touching the proper names of some Scotish warriors abroad, which I was very apt to forget.

"I speak not this to excuse gross faults, (if there be any) nor yet to praise my owne acuteness (though there were none) but to shew that extemporaneanness, in some kinde of subjects, may very probably be more succeseful, than premeditation: and that a too punctually digested method, and over-nicely selected phrase, savouring of affectation, diminish oftentimes very much of the grace that otherwayes would attend a natural ingenuity. If the state of England be pleased with this book, I care neither for Zoil nor Momus; but if otherwaes, then shall it displease me, whose resolution from its first contrivance was, willingly to submit it to their judicious censure.

So much for the present: We shall ere long present our readers with some more copious notices of the representative of the lineage of Seth.

MR EDITOR,

THE following queries on musical expression are the sources of a scepticism as to the merits of the modern school of music, joined to an increasing admiration of the eloquent melodies of your country and of Ireland, which has long been creeping upon me. I must, however, deprecate any idea that I am counting upon nationality for their insertion. I venture to send them in the hope that they may meet with more charitable and less contemptuous treatment from some of your correspondents, than they have had from some of my musical friends. There is nothing alarming in this confession. Practical musicians are seldom metaphysical, and in reply, therefore, to any insinuations of ignorance from such, I can only humbly submit, that I have not unfrequently had opportunities of hearing scientific music, and sometimes of joining in it as far as my very limited execution will permit. VOL. V.

He said,

SWIFT.

My knowledge, however, such as it is, is confined to the Treble Cliff. Little more need be said by way of preface. It is only necessary to assume, that music is in itself capable of producing certain trains of sentiment. This assertion is barely an appeal to common experience. The tendency of the queries is to attempt to shew how this effect is produced, and to deduce the rationale of musical expression. This, of course, involves a consideration of the existing styles of music.

In conclusion I must note, that the term "music" is often used where "melody" or 86 subject" are only meant. Where the exhibition of musical concords is wished to be particularly understood, the word "harmony" is substituted.-I am, &c. &c. D. T. Newcastle, June 24th 1819.

1. Ir music please, must it not do so either by the mere succession of clear and distinct tones, or by those tones

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in certain successions, producing by some means or other a pleasing sentiment in the mind?

2. If music pleases in both these ways, separately or in combination, must not the way second mentioned be allowed to be of a more exalted kind than the first, inasmuch as a mental sensation is superior to a mere auricular vibration?

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3. If music actually begins and produces sentiments or trains thought without the aid of any contingent or arbitrary prior associations of ideas merely incidental to the individual, is it not an unavoidable consequence, that it must produce such trains of thought, from each air having some kind of connection with the sentiment it produces more close than with other sentiments which it does not produce?

4. For, if this be denied, how happens it that the sentiment follows at all rather than some other, or rather than none; and how happens it that the same succession of tones produces, in various persons, the same sentiment or description of sentiment?

5. If then music be allowed to have this particular connection with thought, so that a given succession of tones produces a certain train of thinking, or in short, if airs are strictly "expressive," is it not almost self-evident that this can only happen from such ideas having been before joined to, and connected with similar sounds, so that, in accordance with the principles of associated ideas, they reproduce each other?

6. If this connexion with similar sounds be denied, how happens it that expressive songs, that is to say, songs in the meaning of which all men agree, and the merit of which all men allow, follow in their modulation the inflections of voice with which the words would be recited by a correct and natural speaker, thus resolving music into poetical heightening and measuring of natural intonation, in short, constituting it the poetry of sound?

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7. How also does it happen, admitting the last negative, that the turns of a good air may be sometimes wonderfully guessed at, after reading the words to which it has been applied, being the reverse of the process last alluded to?

8. If all these assertions and conse

quences be denied in toto, I ask what other kind of connexion, between music and thought, can be conceived to exist; or, if it can, what is it, and do composers follow it?

9. If no account can be given of any other well known or conceivable theory of this connexion, is it not philosophical to admit the foregoing upon such evidence as there is, in default of better?

10. This then being granted, does it not follow that music appeals to human passions and feelings in the same way that poetry does?

11. Does it not also follow that, inasmuch as the inflections of the human voice, when excited by subjects devoid of passion and feeling, are not sufficiently distinct, peculiar, or certain to be generally recognised; therefore, music which depends upon such inflections, must, when employed on subjects in which intense feeling is not comprehended, become uncertain, inexpressive, and unintelligible?

12. From which does it not directly follow that the scope and range of expressive music must be limited like any other means of expressing pathos and passion?

13. Granting this, must it not, of course, be impossible to be musically pathetic, heroic, beseeching, regretting, upbraiding, exulting, or despairing, for a longer time, without repetitions, than it is possible to depict those passions strongly, and produce them in the mind by means of poetry or prose. And supposing, therefore, a piece of music to be made to imitate, or rather express, the bursts of passion and pathos in the most consummate scene of a tragedy, must not this necessarily be done by a succession of airs, each of which embodies a passion or feeling, simple or complex, in the order in which such arises in the scene; airs being understood to be successions of musical notes to which the passages of a drama might be sung after being turned into lyrical metre, or, in a more extended sense, portions of recitativo adapted to the actual passages?

14. If this be admitted, how does it happen that elaborate music, or what is called a full piece, should be more difficult to be understood than a single expressive air, the elaborate music only amounting, as it only can amount, to a succession of expressive

29. If they be not more, are they not less coarse in these particulars; and leaving out compass, emphasis, shakes, holds, cadences, and tippings, in what particulars are they more coarse?

30. Taking the other side of the alternative; if it be said that the old airs are deficient in force and completeness of expression, I ask, how then does it happen, that unlearned people are more affected by sounds which do not fully express a well known passion than by those which do, this being an effect without a sufficient cause, and a sufficient cause failing to produce its effect?

31. If it be said, that the old airs produce feeling in the same way as that of old rude poetry, which is sufficient to produce the effect, though not so completely as if it had those additional refinements for which a modern reader involuntarily makes allowance, I ask, whether by this it is meant to be said, that modern musicians are better judges of the actual refinements of the feelings and passions than their hearers are?

32. If they explain themselves as only professing to refine music to the expression of those refinements of feeling which are common to this age, I ask, why this additional refined music is not commonly understood, as the ruder music was in a ruder age, if its relations to the things to be expressed by it is the same essentially in principle as that of the early music?

33. If it be said that these refinements are, in themselves, too delicate and evanescent to be understood, when translated into music, without some preparatory study, I ask how these delicate and almost impalpable refinements can so cover and alter the stronger and more palpable part of the passion, which must, of course, be included in the air, that unlearned lovers of music can no longer recognize it, nor see that the modern air contains any thing in common with the old airs on a similar subject?

34. If it be replied that, impalpable as they are, they yet have this effect, I demand how, then, it happens that, when an old air is re-set, ornamented, improved, and refined, by a modern composer, an unlearned ear can easily distinguish and separate the more strongly expressive parts of the old air from the modern, and to him

unintelligible refinements, when he cannot do this with an air wholly modern, which professes to include the strong expression with the refinements?

35. As it is always possible that musicians, however accurate their judgment, may deceive themselves as to the actual sources and causes of their pleasure, is it probable or not from the following considerations, that professors and connoisseurs are more likely to be deceived in these respects than mere unscientific lovers of music?

36. As it is known and avowed that the style of music now prevailing had its origin with the Italians, and has been modified by the Germans, two nations notorious for their overcharged expression and delineation of the passions, both in their literature and elsewhere; that is to say, the Italians everywhere, and the Germans in their drama and romances; and as it is likewise known that composers in this country compose chiefly for the stage, is it not probable that all these combined causes tend to produce the adoption of a false and factitious style of expression, imitated not from the intonations of nature but from those of the stage, and of the worst part of the stage, which are themselves mawkish corruptions of nature, through the varnish and affectation of which, scarcely a feature of their parent is now to be recognized?

37. It being admitted, on all hands, that there exists a considerable secondary description of pleasure, arising from what is called" harmony," or different tones according with each other, is it not probable that men who are conversant in all the known varieties of chords, and employed in the search for new ones, will be inclined to give this part of music an attention too exclusive?

38. Is it not, further, probable, that those who are accustomed to develope and extend the capabilities of the human voice, and of musical instruments, will be inclined to be much more pleased with mere victories over difficulties, than men who do not understand the mechanism of music?

39. In short, is not modern music made more a trade than ancient musie was; and, therefore, liable to be injured by the necessity of variety, and the caprice of fashion? And has not