EVE.

BY THE LATE HENRY NEELE.

Written on seeing Mr. Baily's Statue of Eve at the Fountain.

[The following poem was written by the unfortunate Henry Neele, just before the melancholy termination of his life: it is worthy of the pen of that highly-gifted writer, and its publication will add a fresh wreath to his poetic fame. Those who have seen-and who has not?-the exquisite piece of art which called forth this effusion of the ill-fated poet, will immediately recognize its graphic power of description, and the fine-toned feeling which breathes through every line. We scarcely know which to admire most, the description of the poet or the production of the sculptor. They both command our admiration, as both are emanations of a kindred spirit of genius, and that of the highest order.]

NAY, 'tis no sculptured art,-'tis she-'tis she!
The fatal fair, whose bright betraying smile
Robb'd man of Paradise, but taught him love!
Oh, more than seraph-beauty!-Even man
Is but " a little lower than the angels;"
While woman-lovely woman-all divine,
Transcends their glittering hierarchy. This
Well knew the subtle tempter, who, albeit
Himself the semblance of a child of light
Could wear, yet chose a brighter minister
To lure to the fond ruin. Ah! on such
A face as this our primal sire might well
Gaze away Eden! Who that hung on lips
Like those, and listened to the utterings
Which made them eloquent, would still desire
The presence of angelic visitants,

Or sigh for cherub warblings? Who that felt
That soft heart beat to his, while o'er that neck,
Lock'd in Love's fond embrace, his fingers twined,
Like ringdoves nestling round the tree of life,
Would deem she lured to death?

Yet, yet she smiles!

Yet o'er her own sweet image hangs enamour'd;
While, still and steadfastly as she, we gaze,
And share her rapturous wonder, deeming her
Scarcely less vital than ourselves, and breathless
Only rfom admiration!- -Beautiful!

"The statue which enchants the world" no more
Boasts undivided homage; Britain claims
The laurel for her son, whose genius bids
Its sweet creation start to life and light,
Lovely as Pallas, when the brain of Jove
Teemed with divine imaginings.

May 8th, 1822.

HENRY NEELE.

ON THE PROGRESS OF MUSIC FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE PRESENT CENTURY

NO. IV.

MUSICIANS, both teachers and performers, are now a better-educated class than formerly, and, where they are not eminent for accomplishments, are, at least, persons of some reading.

Thus they have become emulous of sustaining the character and estimation of their art; and amongst the distinctions they claim for it, is, that music is an universal language. True; but with this grain of allowance, that scarcely any language is so liable to various interpretation; for the force, and even the direct and indirect meaning of that interpretation depends upon the talent and the progression of the performer. We make this remark at the outset of our review of the impulse of foreign example upon English taste and practice, because it may shrewdly be suspected that, with the exception of those compositions to which we have endeavoured, in former essays, to establish the exclusive right of our countrymen, every other species, little by little, though, it must be admitted, very gradually, has been changed and wrought into a comparatively new form in execution. The powers of instrumentalists and singers have been so greatly enlarged, that the very same notation receives a totally different expression from the vigour, the velocity, and the facility of performance in the present age. This result has, indeed, been perceived by close and acute observers during the transition, but not perhaps universally, or even generally. Yet so it is; and we steadfastly believe that the finest song, if it could be now sung by Farinelli himself, in the manner he gave it when at his highest reputation, we steadfastly believe that, although it might touch the reflecting and sensitive part of his audience, it would, nevertheless, be voted a dull and inferior matter by the public at large. The metamorphosis which has taken place is little, if at all, short of the institution of a new species of musical phraseology-the multiplication of notes, as well as the extremity of contrast. But the copiousness of the style of music, so to speak, is the capital mutation. Of this, English music, rightly so called, is not susceptible. Our improvement, (if improvement it may be termed,) together with our progression, is altogether owing to what we have learned and imitated from foreign nations. If such adoptions betray a want of invention, they at least manifest a laudable spirit of inquiry, and a liberality which excepts not against the origin of good, come from wheresoever it may.

The period when our inquiry must commence was marked by one striking and important change, the discontinuance of the Musici,-the school of singing from whence had been derived the purest expression

*Continued from p. 192, No. CLIV.

"Unis par de si doux liens, les musiciens de toutes les nations ne forment qu'une seule famille qui a les mêmes goûts, parle le même langage, et suit le même objet; leurs ouvrages sont exaltés ou critiqués par des juges aussi justes que compétens; une noble émulation les anime, les lumières se communiquent d'un bout de Î'Europe à l'autre ; et quelque part qu'ils se rencontrent, ils sont dans leur patrie." -De l'Opéra en France, tom, i., chap. 6.

and the strictest taste. The practice which devoted them to science had been felt to be inhuman, and was proscribed; accordingly that melting, but effeminate, tenderness and pathos, which were the characteristics of the old opera, were now to be superseded for evermore. With this race much of the delicacy and intense feeling of music departed; but strength, variety, and a manlier sentiment succeeded. It is curious, however, to listen to the admirers of this class of singers, who, together with those they admired, are now nearly all extinct. All of the past age whom we have ever heard speak of Pacchierotti, for instance, dwelt with enthusiasm on his praises, and on the effects he produced. Clementi, not long before his death, acknowledged to the writer of this article his obligations to this celebrated Musico in the fondest terms. He owed, he said, his expression, both in playing and composing, to having regarded attentively the expression of singers, and particularly to Pacchierotti, whose exquisitely expressive power always brought him to tears. The veteran amateur and critic, Lord Mount Edgcumbe, in many detached passages of his very unaffected and amusing little book, shows that he regrets the loss of this species of voice, and still more of the devotedness of the Musici to their art, for he speaks of the change as an acknowledged decline of singing in general;" and says, directly after," that another cause has certainly contributed to it, and that is the difference of the voices of the male performers." That the art has suffered in some particulars there can be no question, but it has, as undoubtedly, gained in others. The limits which the contracted voices of the artificial soprani set to composers have been broken down,—a masculine energy in execution, ornament, and declamation, has replaced their feeble, though pathetic and polished style. If not dissolved, we are raised as well as moved, and altogether by loftier emotions, since we have had Tramezzani, Braham, Garcia, and Donzelli, for the heroes of the Italian stage. Each, however, had their beauties; but humanity will applaud the banishment of the barbarous custom, and every heart will respond.

66

Marchesi and Rubinelli had passed away, a very wretched successor in the person of Roselli had sunk unnoticed, and the fame of the Italian opera had been supported by Mara, when, towards the close of the last century, Banti arrived. It has happened almost invariably that the prima donna has cast the men into shadow, and thus the attainments of one performer have frequently been the substitute for an opera supported in all its parts by a tolerable quantity of talent. Such was eminently the case when Banti appeared in England. At so low an ebb was the King's Theatre, that, in "Semiramide," Roselli, and Rovedino, a coarse base raised into a tenor, were her only support. Our object, however, is not to give a history of the opera, but to mark the progress of art in this country as connected with foreign professors. Banti was highly gifted by nature, indifferently trained in science. She had the ninetynine parts of the hundred, a magnificent voice, rich, powerful, and extensive. She had also that intuitive feeling that enters with an energy, which commands the sympathy of others, into every minute characteristic and capability of the music she sung. The extended range of modern art almost demands of a singer, especially during her struggle for eminence, a knowledge of the more mechanical branches. To these Banti, who retained the coarseness of her early indigence, (she was a street singer,) could never be brought to submit. The attempts made to teach

her even the rudiments of music failed; she could not be subjected to the labour. Her powers of perception and imitation she felt were equal to sustain her flight, and to them she trusted. But though Banti was admired and followed, she did not enlarge the sphere of her art,-she maintained, "without co-rival, all her dignities," but she did not add to them.

Up to this time, indeed, there had been few, if any, extravagancies introduced. Composers had been satisfied with comparatively plain notation, and rather sought to adapt sound to sense than to enlarge the phraseology of music. A more striking proof, perhaps, of this adherence to the maxims of former schools can hardly be cited, than the fact that Grassini, the female who followed Banti, and whose voice was a noble contr' alto, obtained more fame by singing the exceedingly simple and plain air in "Il Ratto di Proserpina," " Paga fui," than from all her other efforts. This song contains very few notes, no passages; and its melody, though touching, requires infinite delicacy and truth of expression to set it off. No one has ever attempted it with success, or, indeed, at all, since Grassini.

But a new era was about to commence. Braham had been engaged at the King's Theatre, the most florid singer that had ever appeared; Billington, also, was extolled for her fioriture and prodigies of execution. But these were soon eclipsed by the volume, majesty, power, and daring of Madame Catalani, who came to this country in 1806.

This wonderful singer has undergone the fate of all greatness-to be as much under as over rated. On her first arrival, she was esteemed above measure by her admirers, and, indeed, by the public at large; for it was impossible to hear her without being struck by her rare powers; while, on the contrary, amongst scientific judges, especially those of the old school, some affected to despise her attainments, and some really did despise them. The same discrepancies of judgment attended her throughout her whole career; and the feeling against her became more general towards the end, because her inordinate desire of supremacy, and the means taken by those around her to keep all rivals from her throne, were of a kind to raise at once contempt and animosity. But let us do her justice. Her voice was of the finest description. When she first came to England, we find, upon consulting the written records we made on hearing her, that it had not that volume and richness it afterwards attained, and which gave a splendour to her performance no other singer could reach. Her facility seemed prodigious; and her manner of executing passages common to other singers was esteemed to be novel and expressive. Her multiplication of notes was at that day deemed astonishing; her precision of intonation, and velocity in arpeggie and passages of semitones, not less extraordinary. She then gave her ornaments

From the time of Pope Gregory the Great, each successive age has complained of innovations destructive of the purity of expression. It would, however, be exceedingly difficult for the most cultivated and best taste to decide, after a revision of the music of the past centuries, where the line should be drawn against, not alone the ornamental additions, but the varieties of performance. If the mere multiplication of notes be any test, Rossini is the heaviest of all offenders. But what say his followers and the world at large? Why, that he has made music so animated, and invented so novel, various, and lively a mode of expression, that he has rendered all preceding composers dull by comparison. The real truth is, that much beauty appertains both to simple melody and florid composition

more sotto voce, in a more subdued tone than had been customary. Such were the impressions she made on her first appearance. Afterwards, she cultivated a loftier expression, and assumed with success the magnificence and grandeur for which nature had so nobly fitted her. Nor was she less at home in the comic opera. Her Susanna, in “Le Nozze di Figaro," was enchanting alike for its delicate yet decided humour and coquettry: her Amalthea, in "Il Fanatico per la Musica," was even more arch and captivating. Her person sustained her voice; for she was beautiful, commanding, and graceful beyond most women; while every feeling was instantly betrayed, because her expression was impulsive, and as irresistible to herself as to others. In a word, she threw her whole soul into her performance, and consequently employed all her faculties with the earnestness and the energy that belong to the inspirations of genius alone. In her later visits to England, more effort was visible, and she gave herself up to all sorts of styles, not omitting airs with variations, and English ballads. Amongst the former, she gave Rode's violin solo (called Rode's variations); and amongst the latter, "Sweet Home;" 66 God save the King," and "Rule Britannia," she sang with a degree of power and expression surpassing all others. But as money became the ruling temptation at last to those who were interested in her engagements, and as her passion for notoriety, rather than a just fame, was as inordinate as undiscriminating, she was submitted to the degradation of singing between the play and farce at the English theatres, and thus was cruelly degraded from her proper level. level. How seldom it happens that good sense teaches great artists when and where to stop!

But our business lies with the influence of her vast talents upon the art and upon the taste of our countrymen; and it will be found to reside rather in advancing their knowledge of what was possible than in any positive improvement of style or manner. The leading fact is, that Catalani's powers were above imitation. The splendour of her voice,its force, richness, and flexibility,-no one who was not as highly gifted by nature could hope to convey. Perhaps, of all the English artists, Miss Paton alone, by some very faint and feeble mannerisms, could, at the time, be accused of direct imitation, and even then, much more in gesture than in singing. But from Braham and Catalani, conjointly, the English public first learned to accept surprise in lieu of the gratification of pure expression,-to tolerate extravagance, of whatsoever kind, -and to merge all reflective pleasure in the wonder of the moment. There the deeper emotions were surrendered at once, and a lighter species of entertainment displaced that union of sentiment and sound which was directed to the nobler affections. A more important change in natural musical feeling could scarcely be imagined; and the facility with which it was accomplished declares that the transmutation of Englishmen, from a reflecting to an enjoying people, had already gone far.

From our former essays, it will have been perceived and understood that the music of the country, strictly speaking, had hitherto been, as it were, a part of the religion of the country. It was addressed almost exclusively to the lofty or the deep passions: even the operas of the anterior age, we have shown, partook, in no small degree, of this grave and exalted character, from the circumstance of the one great composer (Handel) having been alike engaged upon the drama and the oratorio.