artificial and incomprehensible in such foreign productions. They have adhered, in consequence, with obstinate, though very natural patriotism, to the music of their own country; and, without attempting to understand the higher efforts of the art, or to unravel the charms of foreign masters, have rested in the firm belief, that every thing from which they derived no pleasure, was in reality destitute of beauty, and that the only species of music truly worthy of admiration was, that which came home alike to the heart of the most uninstructed as the most cultivated part of the audience.

Our artists and professional men, on the other hand, being led by the study and cultivation of their art, to a strong and ardent admiration of those higher branches of music in which its greatest powers are developed, and finding themselves surrounded by persons incapable of appreciating what they felt to be delightful, have almost relinquished the task of improving and new modelling the public taste; but associating entirely among themselves, and entertaining the utmost sovereign contempt for the taste of those around them, have created a language unintelligible to the rest of mankind, and established a criterion of taste, deviating perhaps as widely from the rules of genuine beauty. In this way has arrived, with reference to this object, a division of society into the musical and the unmusical; the former comprehending a few persons intimately acquainted with the rules, the technical expressions, and the professors of the art; the latter, the whole remainder of the people, whose natural taste has received no cultivation. Both sets entertain a sovereign contempt for the other; the musicantes regard the rest of society as utterly ignorant, and beneath all contempt in the estimation of art; and they, in their turn, are regarded as a trifling and despicable set of men, who, according to Adam Smith's distinction, have degraded themselves by devoting themselves to the arts which please, in place of those which serve, mankind.

This complete separation of the musical set from the rest of society has had a most injurious effect on the progress of art. The artists, as they always do when not coerced by the taste of a numerous and discerning public, have aimed at what is new, rather than what VOL. VI.

is beautiful; and sought rather to display their own powers than to develope the real beauties of their art. From these absurd and despicable efforts of artists have arisen, in this country, a complete misconception of the nature of foreign music; and hence it is that the Italian music is thought to be characterized by those long shakes and forced exhibitions of vocal power, which never would be, for an instant, tolerated by the taste of the people on the other side of the Alps.

Nor has the effect of this circumstance been less injurious on the public taste than on the direction which the efforts of our artists have taken. Most men have relinquished all attempt even to understand an art, from the greater part of whose productions, and from the most admired, they could derive no pleasure. From hence has arisen the singular fact, that in this country, excelling all others in the vigour of intellect, and the force of genius which it has recently developed, there is so little conception in the higher classes of society of the beauty of the Italian music, or so little attempt even to understand the latent beauties of an art, which addresses itself, more directly than any other, to the finest feelings of our nature, and in which, perhaps, the greatest triumphs of human genius are to be found. We are not to impute this extraordinary fact to any want of natural taste among its inhabitants; for there is no country in which the indigenous music is of a more touching or pathetic description. It is to be imputed to the want of opportunity which is here afforded of acquiring a taste for the higher branches of the art; and to this deficiency the absence of sacred music from the religious service of the country has eminently contributed.

If we attend to the music of all countries, we shall find that its principal object is to awaken one or other of these emotions; either the enthusiasm of war, or the tenderness of love, or the ardour of devotion. The first of these objects is that which is principally aimed at, in the earlier period of society; but its influence necessarily declines as pacific habits become general, and when the profession of arms is confined to a particular class of the people. At all times indeed it possesses a greater power perhaps of mov◄ 2 A

ing the soul, than any other species of the art, and of this, its constant use to excite men to the greatest and most heroic deeds, affords ample evidence. But its influence is, from its nature, momentary and transient, nor can it even take that hold of the mind, or excite those permanent feelings of admiration which are awakened by music more adapted to our ordinary and domestic feelings.

The influence of that species of music which is devoted to the expression of love, perhaps the most numerous and extensive of any, continues the same in all ages and countries, for the obvious reason, that the passion to which it relates, is the same in all periods of the world. The greater proportion of the native Scottish airs accordingly are devoted to the expression of this passion, and of the domestic affections with which it is associated. The Irish music, in most instances the same as the Scotch, but which has lately been adorned and restored by the exquisite genius of Moore and Stevenson, is of the same description, although it has been tinctured by the misfortunes in which the country has been involved, and breathes that air of melancholy which has so often been felt by its authors.

"The warm lay of love on the light note

of gladness, Has awakened thy fondest, thyloveliest thrill,

But so oft hast thou echoed the wild notes of sadness,

That, even in thy mirth, it will steal from thee still."

But how delightful soever this species of music may be, and admirably as it is calculated to awaken the most tender and delightful feelings of ournature, yet it is obvious that its cultivation can never extend, to any great degree, the knowledge of the higher branches of the art, or awaken that general appreciation of its excellencies on which its successful progress mainly depends. To the young, the gay, and the ardent, it is, of course, the most attractive of any; but they form but a small proportion of that large mass which composes the public taste; and they are, perhaps, of all others, the persons least qualified to judge of the real merits of such music, because it is associated, in their minds, with so many interesting and individual recollections. Besides this, it is obvious that genuine feeling,

in that branch of the art, can be expressed only by a single voice, or, at the utmost, by a very limited number of performers; for the feeling to which it relates is, by its nature, devoted to one object, and, consequently, can only be expressed in such a way as may, for the moment, induce the belief of the reality of the sentiment in the performers. To whatever perfection, therefore, this species of music may be brought, it is obvious that it is necessarily limited to the production of effect by simple means, and never can diffuse a taste for the complicated branches of the art, in which its greatest triumphs have been gained, and from the study of which alone a thorough knowledge of its beauties can be obtained.

It is RELIGIOUS Music alone which furnishes the fit subject for the exertion of art in all its branches, and aims at the expression of feelings in which all ranks and classes of men feel an equal interest. That "Music is the voice of love," is indeed true, and it is equally certain, that it has every where arisen from an endeavour to express that delightful feeling. But it is equally true, that, to the great proportion of mankind, this subject does not possess the interest which it does during the visionary period of youth or beauty. The influence of religious felt, and, unlike all other feelings, its music, on the other hand, is always interest increases as we advance in years, and become greatest when the incitements of a temporary existence have decayed. It is when the passions of youth have ceased, and the attractions of the world are no longer felt, that it comes to concentrate the delight which had formerly been dissipated by other objects, as the traveller who has witnessed the freshness of the morning colours, and been dazzled by the splendour of the noontide blaze, beholds when the shades of night have fallen, the same rays reflected from the celestial bodies, and fixes a steady eye on that mellowed light, where the gaudy colours of the day have yielded to the softening influence of heaven.

In sacred music, moreover, there is an obvious propriety in the employment of many voices, or in the complicated harmony of a variety of instruments. We follow the multitude into the house of God; and however important or salutary the exer

cise of private devotion may be, we feel that it is when we join in the prayers or the thanksgiving of our brethren, that we are most intimately impressed with the feelings befitting the service in which we ourselves are engaged. By a law of our nature devotion is made a social duty; and how ever indifferent on other occasions we may be to those who surround us, we are prompted by an irresistible impulse to draw together when we approach the throne of Divine Mercy. Every body accordingly has felt the sublime effect of a multitude of voices, even the most unskilled, when joined in the acts of grateful praise-an effect greater than any single voice, however perfect, would be capable of producing. Nor is the employment of different instruments less in union with the spirit or less favourable to the ardour of devotion. We feel that it is fitting, in the solemn service of thanksgiving, that all the powers of art should be assembled ; and the combination of so many instruments, and such a multitude of voices, in the production of one harmonious strain, accords with that common emotion by which so many hearts are then linked together, and becomes the fit expression of that heavenly feeling by which the discordant passions of the human soul are lulled into a temporary subjection to the influence of religion.

There is the same propriety, there fore, in the use of complicated music in the expression of that religious feeling which we share with our brethren, as in the use of a single voice, to express those effusions of love, which are necessarily confined to a single individual; and, therefore, in all countries, a taste for instrumental melody, and an acquaintance with the higher branches of the art, must commence with sacred music; where its adaptation to the emotion intended to be awakened, is obvious to the most untutored mind. When once acquired, this taste is rapidly extended to other objects, and the mind becomes capable of perceiving the capacity of such efforts of art to express many of the other emotions which music is fitted to awaken.

Universally, accordingly, a taste for instrumental music, and a sense of

the beauty of complicated works of art, has arisen from the influence of sacred music, and the cultivation of mind, which the continual influence of such performances has necessarily produced among the people. In England, we are told by Henry, that the progress of this delightful art, and the greatest improvements which its higher branches have ever received, were entirely owing to the efforts of the Catholic clergy, who were incessantly devoted to this object, even during the period of the Anglo Saxon sovereigns; and we are almost tempted to regard as fabulous the accounts which contemporary authors have trans mitted to us of the influence of religious music, at that early period, on our barbarous forefathers. In the glorious works of Handel, and in the general diffusion of a cultivated taste for every species of the art among our polished neighbours, we perceive the influence of this early and habitual attention to sacred music among the English people. The Italians, from the first restoration of the art in their country, have been habituated to the finest and most impressive music, to increase the pomp and enhance the fervour of the Catholic worship, and in the well known and proverbial taste of that people for every species of music, as well as in the unrivalled beauty and celebrity of their composers, we perceive the natural effects of such advantages. Like the Athenian citizens, in whom the public debates of the orators created the utmost delicacy of taste in judging of composition and pronunciation; or like the modern Romans, who are accustomed daily to behold the works of Raphael and the Caraccis, the Italians, even of the lowest order, have imbibed such a taste for the beauties of music as enables them not only to appreciate with perfect accuracy its greatest excellencies, but to exercise a salutary control over the genius of their greatest artists.

There is nothing, indeed, which is so calculated to effect a mighty change on the feelings or the taste of mankind, as what is connected with their religious feelings. The interest of all other things is temporary or transient it varies with the disposition of the individual, or is obliterated by other

our young men even of rank and fashion, we are still compelled to acknowledge that they have not advanced beyond their Saxon ancestors, who "hunted all day and drank all night, and knew no pleasure save fighting and carousing and the chace."

None indeed would lament more than ourselves if the manly amusements of our gentlemen were to be exchanged for the trifling manner and idle habits and effeminate ideas of the Neapolitan and Venetian noblesse.But the example of the nobility of England is sufficient to convince us, that it is possible to retain the intrepid and characteristic manners of this island, without becoming, as is too much the case with the Scottish youth, perfect slaves to them; and that a taste for the fine arts, and a love of the elegant amusements of life, may be found in the same individuals who are inferior to none in personal courage and manly energy. It is easy to see that it is to the recent and rapid advance which this northern part of the island has made in knowledge, wealth, and power, that the deficiency and barbarism of our national manners are owing, since the progress of manners is slow, compared with the rapid strides which thearts and sciences are capable of making. But it is to be remembered, that a knowledge of error is the first step towards its amendment; and if any thing could make us despair of a more elegant and polished style of manners being introduced amongst us, it would be the presumption with which we are accustomed to speak of our superiority to other nations, merely because we are entirely ignorant of the matters in which they excel us.

In an inferior class of society preeminently distinguished in this country by the intelligence and ability which they possess, we do not perceive indeed a propensity to debaucheries of so costly a description, but their amusements are marked by the same rudeness and sensuality, without the polished manners which alone render it tolerable in their superiors. No one can be acquainted with the professional men either in Edinburgh or Glasgow without having observed the coarseness, we had almost said brutality, of the manners and amusements of the great majority of them; a circumstance the more remarkable, from the contrast which it offers to

the natural sagacity with which they are gifted, and the extraordinary ability which they display in the business of life. Every one who goes from this country is struck with the superior elegance and refinement of the middling orders in France and Italy; it is painful to think what the inhabitants of these countries must feel when they come to ours.

It is to the establishment of the EDINBURGH MUSICAL FESTIVAL, as a permanent institution, and the consequent dissemination of a taste for this delightful art, through all classes of the people, that we look for one principal means of correcting these half civilized manners, and of introducing a perception of the advantages of the more elegant accomplishments among our higher and middling classes. Of all the fine arts, there is none which so universally move the heart-none which is so delightful a relaxation-none so easily within the reach of every individual-none so intimately blended with the finest feelings and most amiable sympathies of our nature. In the other arts the emotion which we experience is the feeling produced by the art alone; and is renewed, as if for the first time, whenever it is presented to the mind. But the beauty of music is felt with increased force as we advance in years, and while every other enjoyment palls by repetition, it alone comes with renewed delight, fraught with the remembrance and the endearments of past existence.

"Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear."

As if, too, this enchanting art was purposely designed as a consolation to the suffering of our nature, it awakens recollections always of a tender and delightful kind, or so softens the remembrance of past misfortune, as to render it pleasing rather than painful to the melancholy mind. The airs which we have heard in infancy, or which are associated with the happiness of our youth, recall, in after years, of all the long period which has since intervened, the moments only of tenderness or joy, as the wind which refreshes the eastern traveller sweeps uncontaminated over the sandy desart, and bears only in its gales the fragrance of those green spots which are scattered over the face of the happy Arabia.

Unlike the other arts too, the influ