No remains of Italian melody have been preserved prior to the sixteenth century. Long before that period the Italians undoubtedly possessed a popular music, having much of that grace and sweetness for which it is now so remarkable. But in Italy, as elsewhere, those who cultivated music scientifically, bestowed their attention wholly on harmony and the combination of parts, while the popular melodies were used by those who possessed musical feeling, but had not technical skill enough even to write them down. It appears from the writings of Dante, Petrarch, and Boecaccio, that music of this popular kind was much used in their time. In Boccaccio's description of the party of ladies and gentlemen, who, during the plague of Florence, retired to a country-house to drive away the thoughts of the horrors in which their city and friends were involved, by a life of mirth and jollity, good cheer, and story-telling,-the amusement of each day is finished with singing and dancing, and the songs are generally accompanied on the lute and viol. As all the party were able to sing and play, and as this did not seem to be considered as an accomplishment at all remarkable, it may be supposed that the songs, as well as the accompaniments, were of the simplest cast, but doubtless of the graceful kind which are still so common even among the uncultivated musicians of that land of song. England had her full share of such music as was current in those distant times. We had our learned ecclesiastics, who cultivated the abstruse study of harmony as successfully as the musicians of the Continent; and we had our popular music, which appears from our old poets, (Chaucer in particular, whose writings are full of allusions to music,) to have been in very general use. It was not till about the middle of the sixteenth century that the popular airs of different countries began to attract the attention of regular musicians. It then began to be perceived that this kind of music had its beauties; and it soon became the practice of composers to collect these airs, harmonize them, and introduce them in their compositions. The great beauty of the rustic and street tunes of the kingdom of Naples was the cause of their first receiving this distinction; and, to use the language of Dr. Burney, these tunes "were as much in fashion all over Europe during the sixteenth century, as Provençal songs were in preceding times, and Venetian ballads have been since." When it thus became the practice to borrow, from the popular strains of different countries, their rhythmical movement and natural flow of melody, and to apply to these the resources of harmony and scientific skill, the progress of music became rapid, and compositions began to appear, which still continue to be heard with pleasure. The foundation of the English ecclesiastical music (in which this country has always maintained a very high rank) was laid in the sixteenth century. The names of Tye, Tallis, Bird, and Gibbons, will always be recorded, in musical history, among the fathers of ecclesiastical harmony. The anthems and other choral compositions of these great masters are still performed in our cathedrals, particularly those of Orlando Gibbons. Of him personally little is known, further than that he was appointed organist of the Chapel Royal in 1604, received a Doctor's degree at Oxford in 1622, and died in 1625. His music is very grand and solemn, rich and clear in its harmony, and more flowing in its melody than any other choral music equally ancient. During this period, too, secular music was much cultivated; and a knowledge of it was considered indispensable to persons of condition. Queen Elizabeth was a performer on the virginals, a keyed instrument which was the precursor of the harpsichord and piano-forte. The following anecdote has been often quoted; but it is sufficiently curious and characteristic to bear repetition: it is found in Sir James Melvil's Memoirs, which contain an account of his embassy to the English Court from Mary of Scotland. After Elizabeth had asked the ambassador many questions about her beautiful rival, such as, how his Queen dressedwhat was the colour of her hair-which of them was the taller, &c.-she inquired, what kind of exercises she used. I answered, says Melvil, that, when I received my despatch, the Queen was lately come from the Highland hunting; that, when her more serious affairs permitted, she was taken up with reading of histories; that sometimes she recreated herself with playing on the lute and virginals. She asked if she played well. I said, Reasonably for a woman. The same day, after dinner, my Lord of Hunsdon drew me up to a great gallery that I might hear some music, (but he said that he durst not avow it,) where I might hear the Queen play upon the virginals. After I had hearkened awhile, I took by the tapestry that hung before the door of the chamber, and, seeing her back was toward the door, I entered within the chamber, and stood a pretty space hearing her play excellently well. But she left off immediately, as soon as she turned about and saw me. She appeared to be surprised to see me, and came forward, seeming to strike me with her hand, alleging she used not to play before men, but when she was solitary, to shun melancholy. She asked me how I came there. I answered, as I was walking with my Lord Hunsdon, as we passed by the chamber-door, I heard such a melody as ravished me, whereby I was drawn in ere I knew how; excusing my fault of homeliness, as being brought up in the Court of France, where such freedom was allowed; declaring myself willing to endure what kind of punishment her Majesty should be pleased to inflict upon me for so great an offence. Then she sat down low upon a cushion, and I on my knees by her; but with her own hand she gave me a cushion to lay under my knee, which at first I refused, but she compelled me to take it. She inquired whether my Queen or she played best. In that I found myself compelled to give her the praise. Queen Elizabeth must have played much more than "reasonably well for a woman," if she could make use of the celebrated MS. collection of pieces compiled for her, and known by the name of "Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book." It is still preserved, and contains compositions, for that instrument, by the principal masters of the time-Tallis, Bird, Bull, &c.; some of which are so difficult that they would puzzle a Cramer or a Moscheles. It is quite a mistake to suppose that the accumulation of difficulties, either in vocal or instrumental music, is a vice peculiar to recent times. The unhappy Queen of Scots was an accomplished musician. The melancholy story of Chatelard-whose delirium of love, caused by the pleasure which his lovely mistress took in hearing him sing and play on the lute, cost him his life-is well known; and still better known is the tragedy of David Rizzio. The idle notion, by the way, of this Italian lutanist, being the author of the most beautiful of the Scottish melodies, is too absurd to require the serious notice it has frequently met with. It was in the course of the sixteenth century that the psalmody of England, and the other Protestant countries, was brought to the state in which it now remains, and in which it is desirable that it should continue to remain. For this psalmody we are indebted to the Reformers of Germany, especially Luther, who was himself an enthusiastic lover of music, and is believed to have composed some of the finest tunes, particularly the Hundredth Psalm, and the hymn on the Last Judgment, which Braham sings with such tremendous power at our great performances of sacred music. Our psalm-tunes, consisting of prolonged and simple sounds, are admirably adapted for being sung by great congregations; and as the effect of this kind of music is much increased by its venerable antiquity, it would be very unfortunate should it yield to the influence of innovation: for this reason, it is much to be desired that organists and directors of choirs should confine themselves to the established old tunes, instead of displacing them by modern compositions. Towards the end of the sixteenth, and beginning of the seventeenth, century, shone that constellation of English musicians, whose inimitable madrigals are still, and long will be, the delight of every lover of vocal harmony. It is to Italy, however, that we are indebted for this species of composition. The madrigal is a piece of vocal music adapted to words of an amorous or cheerful cast, composed for four, five, or six voices, and intended for performance in convivial parties or private musical societies. It is full of ingenious and elaborate contrivances; but, in the happier specimens, contains likewise agreeable and expressive melody. At the period of which we now speak, vocal harmony was so generally cultivated, that, in social parties, the madrigal books were generally laid on the table, and every one was expected to take the part allotted to him. Any person who made the avowal of not being able to sing a part at sight was looked upon as unacquainted with the usages of good society-like a gentleman who now-a-days says he cannot play a game at whist, or a lady that she cannot join in a quadrille or a mazurka. The Italian madrigals of Luca Marenzio and others are still in request: and among the English madrigalists we may mention Wilbye, author of "Flora gave me fairest flowers;" Morley, whose "Now is the month of Maying" is so modern in its air, that it is introduced as the finale of one of our most popular operas, the Duenna; and Michael Este, the composer of the beautiful trio, "How merrily we live that shepherds be." This music retains all its original freshness, and has been listened to, age after age, with unabated pleasure. The glee, which is a simpler and less elaborate form of the madrigal,— and that amusing jeu d'esprit so well known by the name of Catch, made their appearance about the end of the sixteenth century. The first collection of catches that made its appearance in England is dated in 1609. Music made rapid progress during the reigns of James and Charles I. Of the dramatic music of those days we have spoken in a former article.' Henry Lawes, the famous composer, whom we have there commemorated, had a brother named William, who was also a musician of some note. He was one of the musicians of Charles I., who was so much attached to him, that, when he was killed by a random shot at the siege of Chester, his Majesty wore mourning for him. His epitaph (not at all meant to be ludicrous) is a pretty good specimen of the quibbling spirit which infected every species of composition, sermons even included, in that age: Concord is conquer'd ;-in this urn there lies The master of great Music's mysteries; And in it is a Riddle like the Cause, Will Lawes was slain by those whose Wills were Laws. The civil dissensions, which ended in the subversion of monarchy, and the death of the King, put an entire stop, for a long time, to the improvement of the fine arts in England. The liturgy of the Church of England, and the cathedral service, were abolished in 1643; the church-books were destroyed; the organs taken down; and the organists and singers belonging to the churches turned out of their places. Nothing was allowed in the churches but the psalmody of the presbyterians; and, as the gloomy fanaticism of the Puritans proscribed every sort of light and profane music as a pastime or amusement, the art, for a time, may be said to have been banished from the land. The objection of the Puritans to the use of instrumental music in churches was, that it was both Popish and Jewish. Sir Edward Deering, who brought into the House of Commons the Bill for the Abolition of Episcopacy, said, in the spirit of his party, that one single groan in the spirit was worth the diapason of all the church music in the world. It is singular, however, that Cromwell himself was fond of music, and frequently indulged himself in hearing it. When the organ at Magdalen College, Oxford, was taken down, he ordered it to be conveyed to Hampton Court, where it was placed in the great gallery; and one of his favourite amusements was hearing it played upon. It was carried back to its original place at the Restoration. The gossiping annalist, Anthony Wood, tells a story of a student of Christ-church, James Quin, who had been turned out of his place, and was restored to it in consequence of Cromwell hearing him sing. "Being 1 On the Musical Drama in England :-Vol. II. p. 233. well acquainted," says Wood, "with some great men of those times that loved music, they introduced him into the company of Oliver Cromwell, the Protector, who loved a good voice and instrumental music well. He He heard him sing with very great delight, liquored him with sack, and in conclusion said, ‘Mr. Quin, you have done very well—what shall I do for you?' To which Mr. Quin made answer, with great compliments, of which he had command with a great grace, "That his Highness would be pleased to restore him to his student's place;' which he did accordingly, and so kept to his dying day.” Milton, notwithstanding his hostility to episcopacy, and his zeal in behalf of the Presbyterian party, was not only a passionate lover of music, but has, in his Penseroso, given us a most beautiful description of that very species of music, the use of which he contributed to abolish : But let my due feet never fail To walk the cloisters studious pale As may with sweetness, through mine ear, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes." Cromwell and Milton, though they thus concurred in proscribing the use, in churches, of an art to the charms of which the one was far from insensible, and the other devotedly attached, certainly acted from very different motives. Cromwell gained distinction, and, at last, supreme power, by following the signs of the times, and affecting a degree of fanaticism which did not really belong to his character. Milton had imbibed opinions hostile to the government of the established church long before there was any prospect of its subversion; and when the contest began, his share in it was the natural result of those opinions. Their soundness may admit of dispute, but their sincerity no one can question. At the gay and dissolute court of Charles II. music again came into fashion. But though that monarch restored the musical establishment of his chapel, and increased their salaries, yet his characteristic negligence seems to have been exhibited in this as well as other departments of his administration. In Pepys's Diary, under the date of Dec. 19th, 1666, there is this entry :-"Talked of the King's family with Mr. Hingston the organist. He says many of the musique are ready to starve, they being five years behindhand for their wages: nay, Evans, the famous man upon the harp, having not his equal in the world, did the other day die for mere want, and was fain to be buried at the alms of the parish!" The taste of Charles himself, in music as in every thing else, was French. Italian music, however, began now to find admirers in England. This appears from another curious passage in Pepys's Diary :"Jan. 12, 1667. With my Lorde Brouncke to his house, there to hear. some Italian musique, and here we met Tom Killigrew, Sir Robert Murray, and the Italian Signor Baptista; who hath prepared a play in Italian for the Opera, which Sir T. Killigrew do intend to have up; and here he did sing one of the acts. He himself is the poet as well as the musician, and did sing the whole from the words without any musique prickt, and played all along upon a harpsicon, most admirably, and the composition most excellent. The words I did not understand, and so know not how they are fitted, but I believe very well, and all in the recitativo very fine. But I perceive there is a proper accent in every country's discourse, and that do reach in their setting of notes to words, which therefore cannot be natural to any body else but them; so that I am Baptista Draghi, an eminent Italian dramatic composer. not so much smitten with it as it may be I should be if I were acquainted with their accent. But the whole composition is certainly most excellent; and the poetry Sir T. Killigrew and Sir R. Murray, who understood the words, did say most excellent.-I confess I was mightily pleased with the musique."- Notwithstanding the quaintness of the worthy chronicler's language, one cannot but admire the excellent taste and sound sense contained in the above passage. The observation as to the effect of the peculiar accent of each language on its adaptation to words is well worthy the attention of many of our vocal composers, who seem to think number of syllables the only consideration to be attended to. What follows contains a good account of the state of music in England at that time :-" He (Šir T. Killigrew) tells me that he hath gone several times (eight or ten times he tells me) hence to Rome to hear good musique; so much he loves it though he never did sing or play a note. That he hath even endeavoured, in the late King's time and in this, to introduce good musique; but he never could do it, there never having been any musique here better than ballads and songs, 'Hermitt Poore' and Chiney Chase' (qu. Chevy-Chase?) was all the musique we had; and yet no ordinary fiddlers get so much money as ours do here, which speaks our rudeness still." We have already had occasion, in speaking of the Musical Drama in England, to notice some of the tuneful" Worthies" of the Seventeenth Century. Others, equally distinguished, who did not devote their talents to the stage, we shall take an early opportunity of introducing to our readers. CLAVERING'S AUTO-BIOGRAPHY, CONTAINING OPINIONS, CHARACTERS, &c. OF HIS COTEMPORARIES. I, JOHN FITZNIGEL CLAVERING, was born in the city of Dublin 17th of May, 1755 : my ancestor was a Strongbowian; my mother was one of the numerous and eccentric family of Annesley, and her first-cousin ought to have succeeded to the honours of the peerage, which were decreed to Lord Valentia. I had an aunt, the widow of a prebendary of Lichfield, at whose house I was introduced, when very young, to Dr. Johnson, whom I afterwards knew in London: but I was more intimate with those two extraordinary men, John Wilkes and Horne Tooke; of whom the former was a most lively, impudent man, very agreeable but somewhat superficial; and the other, by far the sharpest instrument I ever encountered. I was also acquainted with a person whom I then believed, and yet believe, to have been Junius. At one time Jemmy Boswell was one of my cronies, and I often met Dick Cumberland, who was a vain, silly, empty fellow. I knew also that strange man, William Combe, the author of the diaboliad, latterly known by the name of Dr. Syntax. At the time the Rolliad was going on, I was introduced to French Laurence, who then lived in the Temple; and I contributed a few verses to that melange, more at the desire of my friend Sheridan, than of that great talkative heavy man, whom I did not like. Charles Fox took a fancy to me for a little while; but some opinions I accidentally sported at a political meeting offended him, and we soon separated. Old George Rose thought I should be useful to his party, and tried to inveigle me over to Pitt, but in vain. Rose was a silly, but cunning old man, with a great memory and great industry; vulgar, tasteless, and deficient in early education. Though he fixed himself on Pitt like a leech, Pitt, who could not |