she played best. In that I found myself obliged to give her the praise." If her Majesty were ever able to execute any of the lessons that are preserved in a MS. known by the name of "Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book," she must have been a very great player, as some of those pieces which were composed by Tallis, Bird, Giles Farnaby, Dr. John Bull, and others, are so difficult, that they would perplex the greatest masters of the present day. This interesting book is still to be seen in the British Museum. It is a magnificent folio, curiously bound in red morocco; its contents may be considered to afford a fair specimen of the prevailing style of instrumental composition of that period, the pieces being extremely elaborate and difficult. Dr. Burney informs us, that the first regular fugue for the organ, upon one subject, which he had ever met with, was composed by Peter Phillips, about the end of the sixteenth century: it is inserted in the Virginal Book of Queen Elizabeth, which contains eighteen or twenty of his compositions. Of the three hundred pieces contained in this famous book, seventy were composed by Bird; they consist chiefly of old tunes, with variations, and fugues of the most uncouth and difficult construction. The first piece, an old English air, has thirty variations by Dr. Bull, of such immense difficulty, that few players could ever vanquish it. The remainder of the volume is in the same style of complicated, crowded, and laboured harmony; and much too dry and uninteresting to the generality of musicians to invite the labour of acquiring them. It has been imagined that the rage for multiplying notes, and disguising the melody of an easy and well-known air, by every means that a note-splitter conceives possible, was a disease of the present century; but it appears from this virginal book, that this species of influenza was as prevalent in the sixteenth century as at any other period of musical history. Among the musicians of this era, we must not pass over Thomas Morley, bachelor in music, a pupil of Bird, and one of the gentlemen of Queen Elizabeth's chapel. He gained much celebrity by his theoretical work, an "Introduction to the Study of Music;" and also by his madrigals, canzonets, &c. The burial-service set by Morley is the first that was composed after the Reformation, and still continues to be used in Westminster Abbey on great and solemn occasions. Dr. John Bull, the reputed author of our National Anthem, seems to have been the wonder of the age, as a performer on the organ and virginals. His extraordinary abilities, and powers of execution, raised him to the Queen's Chapel, and he had the honour of being appointed the first professor of music to Gresham College. After the death of Queen Elizabeth, he was appointed organist to King and in 1607, when his Majesty and Prince Henry dined at Merchant Taylor's Hall, the royal guests were entertained with music, both vocal and instrumental. And while his Majesty was at table, according to Stow, James; "Mr. Doctor Bull, who was free of that company, being in a citizen's gown, cappe, and hood, played most excellent melody upon a small payre of organs, placed there for that purpose only." We must not omit the names of Weelkes, Kirbie, Bennet, Wilbye, Farrant, and John Milton, the father of the poet. These adorned the madrigal school by their beautiful compositions. Farrant is best known as a writer of church music. Several of his matchless productions are to be found in Dr. Boyce's Collection of cathedral music. Ravenscroft and Thomas Este also flourished in this period. Their respective collections of psalm-tunes are well known to musical antiquaries, and contain all the music of that kind which is of any value. Instrumental music during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, made but a small progress towards that state of perfection which it has since attained. The lute and the virginal were the principal instruments for the chamber, and for which any tolerable music seems to have been expressly composed. The violin was scarcely known in England; but viols of various sizes, with six strings, and fretted like the guitar, began to be employed at chamber concerts: but these instruments were too feeble for the tastes of our ancestors, when the performance was public; for we read of King Henry VIII. being entertained at Whitehall on the occasion of a masque, with a "concert of drums and fifes." But this was soft music compared with that of his heroic daughter Elizabeth, who, according to our author, used to be regaled during dinner "with twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums, which, together with fifes, cornets, and sidedrums, made the hall ring for half-an-hour together." دو 66 At this time music entered into polite education as an indispensable accomplishment. Peacham says, in his description of a "complete gentleman,' "it is necessary that he should be able to sing his part sure, and at first sight; and withal, to play the same on the viol or lute." And Philomathes, in Morley's introduction to music, relating what occurred at an entertainment to which he was invited, says :-" Supper being ended, and music-books, according to custom, being brought to table, the mistress of the house presented me with a part, earnestly requesting me to sing. But when, after many excuses, I protested unfeignedly that I could not, every one began to wonder, yea, some whispered to others, demanding how I was brought up." The end of the sixteenth century, and beginning of the seventeenth, has been termed the madrigalian age. In it flourished that great company of English musicians, whose exquisite and inimitable madrigals are the delight of every true lover of vocal harmony. The madrigal was derived from Italy: it is defined by Rousseau as a composition of elaborate character and design, generally in many parts, and containing passages of canon and imitation, as well as all other complex forms of harmony. The words of the madrigal were generally of a pastoral or tender character. It is distinguished from the glee in this important particular-that the glee is sung by a single voice to each part, whilst the madrigal should be sung by many voices to each part; the larger the vocal force, the better the effect. No instrument ought to accompany either the glee or the madrigal, both being properly compositions complete in themselves. Nearly all the great Italian composers of this period, as well as our native musicians, cultivated the madrigal, and by their masterly productions not only adorned their beautiful art, but supplied that style of music which for many years formed the staple recreation of all classes. The commencement of an entirely new era in the annals of Music may be dated from the sixteenth century. Not only is much of the music of this period preserved to us, but its influence upon the science in modern times is most plainly discernible. To trace its progress onwards to our own day -to speak of the famous names of Purcell, Handel, Mozart, Mendelssohn, and a host of others and to examine the present position and prospects of the Art in this age of its widespread revival, would be a task of much deeper interest, as, assuredly, it would be one of far greater magnitude than the humble work of collation and compilation which has been here attempted. But, designed as they were, to illustrate the Antiquities of Musical History, these papers are now brought to a close, with the hope that they may furnish such an epitome of the subject as shall not be without its interest and value to all readers who may chance to be lovers of the Art. E. G. M. THE SONGS OF ADELE. No. 5. BY CALDER CAMPBELL. I'm sad to-day-yet know not why, And fragrance wafts from every flower: No breath of storm is in the air, No cloud in all the clear blue sky; And yet, though joy seems everywhere, I'm sad to-day, and know not why! Invisible a cloud may be, Portending tempests in our fate; And phantoms, which men cannot see, May on our erring footsteps wait: Perhaps some friend beloved now sighs, By sickness struck, no kind one nigh; "Tis strange that tears should fill my eyesThat I am sad, yet know not why! Once, I remember, long ago, When quite a child, and all around Were laughing at some mirthful show, I felt as now-a grief profound; And that same day my brother died In India, far from home, whilst I Guess'd nothing, when I sobbed and sigh'd, Of the mysterious reason why! Now, too, may not some one I prize, Against my will I sit and sigh; FROM THE ITALIAN OF REDI. "Una vaga pastorella," &c. Once a wandering shepherd lassie— And the while her work she plied, Carolled thus her roundelay : I'm pretty, I think, but for lovers I care not— For a lapfull of fresh-gathered flowers I'd give, Ah! how pleasant it is in the summer to lie In some thick-covered meadow beneath the warm sky, With Lissette and Lorinda to dine. And of pleasures, to play blind-man's buff on the green, Is the best, sure, the wide world can bring; Or to sound of the rebeck, heard lightly between, With the girls to dance round in a ring. Golden Pillows I love-so I do Hide and Find- For I've heard that the husband will beat the poor wife Oh! I've heard it again and again— So I'll keep as I am, if it cost me my life, And all fond-sighing lovers disdain. C. H. HITCHINGS. HOW MR. MERVYN LOST HIS BRIDE-ELECT. BY MRS. ABDY. "But how did you lose her, Mervyn ?" "Spare me, Thorold; torture has long been abolished in England, and you have no right to put me to the question." "I do not interrogate you as a right, but ask you to satisfy my curiosity as a favour. When I quitted England, five years ago, you were affianced to the pretty heiress, Lydia Clinton; and I fully expected when I returned to find you a prosperous country gentleman, the respectable father of a small family, giving away soup and blankets all the winter, and receiving prizes at flower shows all the summer. I should like to know how these promising prospects have been blighted?" "The tale would scarcely repay you for the trouble of listening to it, Thorold." myself were both extremely anxious to obtain an introduction to the pretty heiress, Lydia Clinton, and each had been promised an introduction to her from a different quarter. We had similar ideas on the subject of matrimony, being very much disposed to enter within that honourable pale; and regarding money as a decided recommendation in a wife, although not one that was to supersede all others, for we were very far from being fortune-hunters. I was the first who obtained the coveted introduction. I was invited to meet Lydia Clinton at an evening party, at the house of a widow lady, Mrs. Bargrave, and I contrived to keep near her during the greater part of the evening. I entered, however, very little into conversation with her, for she did not make at all a favourable impression upon me. She was dressed in deep mourning, had pallid cheeks, and weak eyes; the expression of her countenance, however, was that to which I most objected; it was decidedly peevish and discontented. The party was large, and among the visitors was one whom Mrs. Bargrave introduced to me as Captain Glynne: he was a very good-looking, very gentlemanly person, and I soon found by his manner towards Lydia Clinton that he was a deeply-smitten admirer. He accosted her absolutely with humility, endea"That is past praying for," said Mervyn, voured by every means to draw her into conwith a genuine sigh: shortly after our engage-versation; and alluded to so many scenes and ment was broken off, poor Lydia married Sir circumstances under which they had formerly James Brenton, a roué, who squanders her for- met, that it was evident they had been old and tune, and treats her with neglect and unkind-intimate friends. Nothing, however, but mononess." "At all events, Mervyn, it would not be a twice-told tale,' for I understand you have told it to nobody." "You have understood rightly. Why should I bore my friends with my misfortunes? What advantage could I gain from the disclosure?" "A great advantage, in all probability. I flatter myself that I am a particularly sensible, shrewd individual; and very likely I might devise some plan for reconciling you with your offended Lydia." 'Well, perhaps she deserves it: was it her fault that your engagement was broken off?" "It was neither her fault nor mine." "Oh! it was some meddling third person, then, who made mischief between you?" Not so: I am disposed to agree with you in considering third persons to be a very mischievous race; but none of them interfered in the present case." "I should like to hear the reason of the quarrel: I have no doubt that I could extract a very useful moral from it." "Well, then, the reason of the quarrel was, that I thought twice upon a subject; and that my second thoughts were much wiser and better than my first." "Nay, I would defy the most indefatigable of moral-mongers to draw forth any instruction from such materials: once more, for the last time of asking, will you tell me how you lost your bride-elect?" "Well, I have kept you in suspense so long, that having told you what the quarrel was not about, I consider myself bound to disclose what it was about. My friend, Charles Denham, and "The heiress syllables, pronounced in a querulous tone of "Soon afterwards I again found myself in the neighbourhood of Lydia Clinton, who had seated 66 herself at a table, and was looking over a book of engravings. Mrs. Bargrave approached, and entreated her to sing; but in a quick, abrupt tone of voice she uttered the hackneyed apology of a cold. Fortunately, however,' said Mrs. Bargrave, in her most insinuating manner, a cold will not affect your flying fingers:" will you favour us on the harp or piano?' A still more abrupt negative, unaccompanied by any reason at all, completely silenced Mrs. Bargrave; she left the heiress to the undisturbed study of the annuals and portfolios, till at an early hour her carriage was announced, and she quitted the party where she had received so little enjoy-period of her mourning for her mother. Her ment herself, and contributed so little to the enjoyment of others. It had been agreed upon between Charles Denham and myself, that whichever had first been introduced to the heiress should write an account of the interview to the other. I was much engaged the next morning, therefore had not time to write him a circumstantial detail of the party; my note was as follows: "Life, the wise men aver, is a series of dissolving views, and I am sorry to say that our bright visions of the charms and amiability of Lydia Clinton have added to the number of them. I have been intro appearance; her manner was cheerful and obliging; in fact, the Lydia Clinton of Leamington and of London, resembled the right and wrong side of the same picture. I had an opportunity of hearing the solution of the mystery from one of her friends. Lydia Clinton, notwithstanding she had scarcely recovered from a severe indisposition, had accepted the earnest invitation of Mrs. Bargrave to pass a sociable evening at her house, and meet half-a-dozen intimate friends. She was hurt and displeased at finding that a large party had been invited to meet her, since she had declined mixing in society during the displeasure, however, was converted into absolute anger when she found that Captain Glynne, from whom she had experienced much distressing annoyance, was one of the party. He had formerly visited at the house of her mother, although not, as Mrs. Bargrave asserted, on intimate terms. He proposed to Lydia, and she promptly and firmly rejected him; nevertheless, he continued to persecute her with letters, feigning passion that he did not feel, and alluding to encouragement that he had never received; and house to reproach her in person: her mother on one occasion actually forced his way into the duced to the "golden girl" whom we had pictured was then in a state of declining health, and was as so pleasing and attractive; she is decidedly plain, seriously annoyed and agitated at this unwarand I am afraid her dearest friend (if she has one) rantable intrusion. Mrs. Bargrave was perfectly will never be able to say of her, "very plain, but with aware of these facts, yet had suffered herself to such a heart!" She is evidently ill-bred and ill-be persuaded or bribed into inviting the harhumoured, and these qualities display themselves in her conversation. I have heard of an eastern potentate, who, when his daughter was about to be married, said to her, "Daughter, I give to thee this man to be thy slave!" Depend upon it that Lydia Clinton takes a similar view of matrimony, and that slavery will be the lot of her mis-named lord and master, whenever she gets one. Should you hear of me as a candidate for the vacant situation, make up your mind either that my West India property has suffered deplorable diminution, or that my investments in the foreign funds have turned out a dead failure.' "Some months after this occurrence I was at Leamington, and met Charles Denham immediately on my arrival, whose family lived in the immediate neighbourhood. I was on the point of writing to you,' he said, 'to lecture you for the slanders you have penned against Lydia Clinton. She is now staying at Leamington with the relations with whom she lives; we have seen much of her, as we are intimate with several families where she visits my sisters, I assure you, are quite in love with her.' Meaning to say, I suppose, that their brother is in love with her?' I replied. Not so,' said my friend. "I have recently received a wound in another quarter, which guards me against the attractions of the fair Lydia; but, seriously speaking, she is a sweet-looking, accomplished, and unassuming girl, and such is the opinion of all who know her.' Charles Denham soon introduced me in a circle of families, where I repeatedly met Lydia Clinton, and I found her to be all that he represented her to be she was, although not regularly handsome, exceedingly prepossessing in ton. dened fortune-hunter to meet the motherless and defenceless girl, who had only her own spirit and dignity to protect her, and fortunately was able to exert them. I will not detain you by an account of my courtship of Lydia Clinton: suffice it to say that I offered and was accepted. A fancy fair was shortly to take place in LeamingDenham's sisters were busily engaged in working for it, and Lydia offered to assist them. They requested that she would pass a few days at their house, where they had already some staying company assembled, and she readily acceded. Charles Denham was then in London: but his father and mother expressed their hope that I would never suffer a day to pass while Lydia was their guest, without visiting them: their house was only three miles from Leamington, and I rode over there early every morning, generally remaining the greater part of the day. One morning I received, on my arrival, the welcome intelligence that the preparations for the fancy fair were completed, and that walking and driving were to be the order of the day. I was sincerely glad of the change, for Lydia had been so engrossed with puzzling pincushions and impracticable needlebooks, that her 'buskins' had not been gemmed with morning dew' for nearly a week. Just, however, as we were debating whether we should patronize hills, woods, or fields, clouds began to gather, and rain to descend; the weather-glass was consulted; it was falling, so was the fabric of my happiness. Had it not rained on that disastrous day, I had not lost my bride-elect." "How mysterious your story is, Mervyn! How could the weather possibly have anything to do with your bride-elect ?” “It had a great deal to do with her, as you will presently learn. The articles intended for the fancy fair were laid out for inspection in an inner room, and Miss Denham suddenly exclaimed that a worked sofa-cushion was not among them, which had lately been sent to them by a young friend. It is not finished,' said one of her sisters; Sophy Ramsay only sent it half filled, and we have had too much to do to think of completing it.' 66 Pray excuse me for interrupting you, Mervyn, but what do you mean by ladies filling a sofa cushion? I thought that was the work of the upholsterer." : She letter, evidently in my own writing. In a mo- "And so I lost my bride-elect !" "Well, I do not agree with you in saying that nobody was in fault in the business; your dear Lydia was decidedly in fault; she must have possessed an unlimited quantity of pride and vanity: wounded self-esteem could alone have rendered her so unforgiving." "It was the custom, Thorold, a few years ago, for ladies, who were great economists of time and property, to convert their spare minutes and their old letters to account, by tearing the latter into very small pieces, and filling cushions and pillows with them; and the fair manufacturers (or, to speak more correctly, I should say destroyers) maintained that such cushions and pillows were remarkably soft and easy. It was an occupation that suited ladies of weak sight and narrow incomes, and was very popular at that time; it has now gone out of fashion, would it had never come into it! It was proposed and carried without a dissenting voice, that as the rain continued unabated, we should all contribute our own time and the letters of our friends till dinner, to the task of filling up Sophy Ramsay's cushion-and we forthwith applied ourselves to the task. Much merry jesting took place one very young man volunteered an unread "Nay, I can really make allowance for her; letter of advice from an old aunt; another appearances were sadly against me; had she equally young and extremely handsome, put in a been portionless, my explanation might have love letter, having first carefully torn away the been received in good part; but, as circumsignature. Denham's sisters gave to the stock stances stood, it was clearly my interest to have long epistles from female friends, Lydia a letter professed to change my first opinion of her. from her milliner on the subject of bridal dresses, Besides, if she had thought it worth while to make Mrs. Denham the character of a cook, and Mr. any inquiry respecting my pecuniary affairs (and Denham a letter from Mr. Ady, offering for the I am by no means certain that she did not think consideration of a sovereign to tell him of some- it worth while) she might have ascertained that thing to his particular advantage! As, however, my West India property had actually greatly 'many hands,' according to the adage, make fallen off since I had written that fatal letter. I did light work', the letters were at length used up, and not tell any one the particulars of our dispute, we had still some spare time on our hands. "I since it would only have drawn ridicule on will go into my brother's room,' said the young- Lydia and myself. I did not even admit Charles est Miss Denham: "I know that when he Denham into my confidence, since I knew how intends letters to be burnt he always puts them deeply he would deplore that he had been the into a particular drawer.' She returned in a few cause, however innocently, of my quarrel with minutes with her lap full of letters, which she my bride-elect." distributed among us. Fresh merriment now ensued, some declaring they would look for Charles's unpaid accounts, others for his loveletters, while his mother protested that he had neither one nor the other. At length a copy of verses was discovered in the handwriting of Charles, which his better judgment had destined for the flames-and all gathered eagerly round the young man who was attempting to decipher it. I looked at Lydia, who was sitting opposite to me; her eyes were already fixed on me with a sad, reproachful expression; she was pale as marble, and in her hand she held a Many thanks for your recital: it is certainly quite an original story." "So it is; and yet I fear I can only deduce from it, for your profit, a very hackneyed moral, which doubtless has been over and over impressed on your mind in the course of your path through life-Beware how you commit yourself in black and white.'" "To which," said Thorold, "permit me to append a minor moral that has just occurred to me- Whenever you decide on burning a letter, do it instantly, and do it with your own hands!"" |