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per. He also introduced into the passage near the end, a horn, with the mouth-piece standing out of the ground. Then, waiting till he was sure of the Mole's presence at that part of the road, he blew into the horn, to use the words of Geoffroy, un cri effroyable,' when, in a moment, the little flags were successively thrown off as the Mole, in its rapid course towards its fortress, came in contact with the interior extremities of the straws: and the spectators of this neat and demonstrative experiment affirm that the speed of the frightened Mole was equal to that of a horse at full trot.”—p. 95.

Such an infernal noise within so confined a space was surely enough to have frightened all the Moles for miles round! The Mole, however, makes no attempt at such extraordinary speed when surprised above ground, feeling himself out of his element, and remaining passive, as we have witnessed, till taken. This may, perhaps, arise from the glare of day being too much for him, as, below deck, he in reality turns day into night, working diligently by night and in the early morning hours, and sleeping profoundly during the greatest part of the day.

We have often been struck by perceiving numerous fresh-turned mole-hills in places entirely surrounded with water, but it appears that this is to be accounted for by our friend's swimming propensities; for a friend of Mr. Bell assures him "he has seen Moles swimming very featly when the marshes in that neighbourhood have been inundated." Mr. Bell has given the provincial name of "Want" as applied to the Mole, but though this may be, perhaps, orthographically correct, in the midland counties it is commonly called "Oont," the double o being pronounced as in moon. There is no British animal whose movements so certainly indicate a change of weather as the Mole, though this fact is no otherwise indicated by Mr. Bell than by the remark that "in the winter, when the frost has penetrated deeply into the soil, and the ordinary hunting grounds are rendered useless and impracticable, it descends to a considerable depth by a perpendicular shaft, till it arrives at the part to which the earth-worms have been driven by the cold." When, however, the frost is about to break up, and previous to a single atmospherical demonstration of it, a fresh-turned mole-hill will always irrefragably prove that the northern tyrant is gone off, leaving his camp, equipage, and icy materiel behind. The same appearance presages rain. Mr. Bell does not say what altitude the Mole attains in his peregrinations, which it would be curious to ascertain, as we have noticed him at nearly two thousand feet, and very likely he may advance higher. The Mole is found in every kind of soil throughout England and the continent of Europe, but not in the islands of Orkney, Shetland, or Ireland, for which as yet no satisfactory solution has been given. Deep-rooted prejudice among farmers is the cause of annual destruction to multitudes of Moles, but, his aliment being almost entirely worms, we confess we should consider him as very little to be regarded as an enemy, except in gardens.

We have dwelt at some length upon the Mole because, in doing so, we consider ourselves as passing the highest praise upon Mr.

(keeping the ornamental in due subordination) is the test of a great composer, then will Rossini assuredly not fall under that honorable appellation. His element is the flippant, the playful, the light: he is occasionally sentimental, but never rises to grandeur, still less to sublimity. Had he possessed the power of raising emotions suitable to sacred subjects, Mose in Egitto would have afforded him an opportunity of treading in the steps of the great masters who had previously handled the same theme. This drama contains scarcely a movement calculated to produce devotional feeling: it is cast in the same mould, and is made up of the same ideas, as his secular works. Many of the airs, duets, &c., are exquisitely beautiful, and would have been entitled to unqualified praise had they been employed to illustrate a less lofty theme. Of the choruses, I confess my inability to discover any one which is deserving of the eulogium bestowed by an ingenious author who describes them as "profound and majestic." He cannot surely allude to All etra, al ciel, the subjects of which are borrowed from the hunting scene in the finale to Winter's Calypso! The effect of the genuine oratorio chorus depends on the contrapuntal treatment of the vocal parts. Haydn and the modern German school rely more on ingenuity of instrumental writing. Rossini has employed neither of these resources; common chords, unisons, and unmeaning instrumental clamor form the staple of his choruses, which are in reality unworthy of the name. Even the celebrated Preghiera, so often misnamed sublime, is, in fact, merely a pretty cavatina and quartet in the common-place Italian style; nor can any thing be less appropriate to the solemnity of the words than the triplet accompaniments and the affected accentuation on the second syllable, in which Italian singers so much delight. Thus does Rossini treat every subject, not according to its own peculiar character, but as a mere vehicle for his one-sided ideas. How immeasurably superior a power over the feelings must that composer exercise who is master of every style-who can pass from grave to gay, from the pathetic to the sublime! how far more noble must be his genius, how far more deeply must he have penetrated into the secrets of his art! Rossini is never serious; he is neither thoughtful himself, nor is he capable of exciting thought in others; he is a trifler who never penetrates below the surface. What a contrast is presented between the Preghiera and the chorus of Egyptian priests in the Zauberflöte! The latter is in the true church style, yet no composer more excelled in the ornamental than

Mr. Hogarth, History of Music, p. 392.

Mozart. Still more striking is the contrast between Rossini and Handel; Rossini, even when attempting to be serious, relapses involuntarily into mannerism. Handel composed the sublime double choruses, I will sing unto the Lord, and But the Waters overwhelmed, with as much ease as the delicate and finished songs, Hush, ye pretty warbling Choir, and Let me wander not unseen, which remain to the present day models of grace and elegance. How must this universal dominion over the powers of sound throw into the shade the petty talent of him who, when he attempts a lofty theme, relapses involuntarily into the manner only suitable to a comic song. A mode of treatment like this is ever the result of incapacity for higher efforts. Let us, therefore, pause before we acknowledge the doctrine originally promulgated by the Italians, and unfortunately followed by too many of our own writers, that each successive composer is necessarily an improver; that he who violates an established custom is a reformer who has the merit of exploding some antiquated prejudice; that he who opposes the exclusive study of the latest fashionable composer is a bigot, unable to keep pace with the improvement of the times. While maxims such as these meet with toleration, while criticism remains either an echo of public opinion or an expression of individual taste, so long will the majority continue in their present state of ignorance, indifference, and presumption. The dissemination of these ideas is greatly favoured by composers and instructors, whose interest it is to represent the masterpieces of ancient writers as no longer adapted to the exigences of the present day, because attention given to these would withdraw patronage from their own compositions: it would also have the effect of imparting a greater ability to criticise, which might possibly be productive of invidious comparisons. If self-interest be thus alert in the propagation of error, the advocates of truth should arouse themselves to increased exertions in endeavouring to counteract this pernicious influence.

No composer has ever been so highly extolled by one party and decried by another as Bellini; his advocates maintaining that he combines every possible excellence, while his opponents do not allow that he possesses merit of any description. The first party consists principally of those whom Von Raumer calls "the musical multitude;" among the latter may be reckoned most of the eminent professional musicians of England and Germany. Neukomm declares that he was unable to endure the representation of Norma longer than a quarter of an hour, and the celebrated theorist, Schnyder von Wartensee, characterizes the Puritani as a spiritless composition,

totally devoid of life and power. The existence of this discrepancy concerning a composition whose merits and defects are equally palpable, clearly demonstrates how little the philosophy of music is yet understood. Neither can any great weight attach to the opinions of the majority of professional persons. Dr. Crotch justly observes that the education which they usually receive is calculated to give an undue bias in favour of the particular school in which they have been trained, rather than to impart a correct, comprehensive, and impartial judgment of music in general. In fact, the philosophy of music receives so little attention in a mere professional education that, in many cases, it may be fairly questioned whether the verdict of the public may not be preferable to the more prejudiced decision of the musician.

conducted on the prinIndividual taste is here place of rules based on

Musical criticisms have not been hitherto ciples universally applied to the other arts. permitted most unaccountably to usurp the the broad foundation of the natural laws, in accordance with which music holds dominion over the feelings. An opera containing a pretty cavatina, a showy chorus, and an aria di bravura well calculated to display the powers of the prima donna, will certainly become popular, although the rest of the music be worthless, and the whole unconnected and ill adapted to the subject. Were an opera considered in its true light, as a work of art, it would be at once evident that beauties so trifling should hold no more sway over the decision of the critic than a well-drawn ornament or gorgeouslycoloured robe would influence his judgment respecting the merits of an historical painting. In the higher branches of the pictorial art, neither excellence of execution, nor skill in detail, nor the union of Dutch minuteness and exquisite finish with the splendour of Italian colouring, can compensate for poverty of invention, or atone for the violation of historical or natural truth. Now, the aim of an opera and that of a painting of the higher rank being identical—in the one sound constituting the illustrating medium, while in the other it is form and colour, the end of both being to pourtray the workings of human affections, passions, and sufferings, whether the example be drawn from history, or whether it be presented in the guise of an allegory or of an imaginary plot-it follows that, however beautiful and attractive detached portions of an opera may prove in themselves, yet if the whole excites emotions inconsistent with the object of the poem, or is calculated to neutralize the legitimate feelings which the passing scene ought to inspire, although these parts may be successful in affording amusement, yet the work

of art fails to accomplish its own lofty purpose-that of imparting instruction. These sentiments will doubtless occasion surprise to many in this country, but that it is possible to render music a medium of moral culture may be demonstrated both by argument and fact. At Berlin the opera not only constitutes a school of art, but is likewise considered a powerful mode of moral cultivation; whereas in London its highest aim is an exhibition of vocal skill. The truth of the assertion of a German critic, that an opera by Gluck is more favourable to morality than one by Rossini, will not be controverted. Music is now admitted to exercise a more powerful influence over the feelings than painting, sculpture, or even poetry: if, then, the highest virtue and the utter degradation of vice receive the same musical treatment, if the most fearful crimes are recited and acted to light and sportive measures (the natural expression of gay-hearted innocence), this abuse of the powers of the art must inevitably lead to a confusion in the feeling of right and wrong; the association of the music with the action will produce a perma. nent impression. It is futile to assert that music can never influence belief or change opinion; man is a sentient as well as a reasoning being, he acts as frequently from impulse as from conviction, The general diffusion of modern Italian music among the people would probably tend to lower their moral character in the same degree that a familiarity with that of Gluck and the classical German composers would conduce to its improvement. In the operas of Gluck, the boundaries which separate right and wrong are clearly defined, the feelings unconsciously side with the judgment; in the modern Italian school, the allurements of sense too often triumph over the mental and moral faculties. When Gluck drags before us Orestes tormented by the furies, we feel under the same spell as when perusing the history of the fate-pursued monarch in the immortal pages of the Greek dramatist; we become enveloped in the dark unwholesome atmosphere of crime; we labour under an insupportable oppression, and long to escape. The same tragic power, although on a subject less revolting, is displayed in his opera of Ifigenie en Auliade. Nor is the master's regard for truth less conspicuous when he depicts peace of mind and calm content by a sweet and soothing andante or a sustained and lofty adagio; such passages will ever remain among the finest specimens of pure musical beauty which the art affords. In no instance does he sacrifice expression to a love of display in the singer, or to a vitiated taste for ornament in the audience. Thus did this great musician constantly aim at and attain the highest object of art, that of rendering virtue attrac

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