Great masters have not generally attempted imitations on particular words, but on general ideas. This they have effected by the general movement and construction of their airs. Thus Handel, in the Ode on St. Cecilia's day, has imitated the roll of the drum on these words; "The double, double beat of the thundering drum cries, bark!"* The notes comprised in this strain, cannot be repeated without exciting the idea comprised in the words. In his songs in L'Allegro and Il Penseroso, after the words,

he very happily changes to the air of a dance on these words;

Such general movements may be perfectly imitative of general ideas, but can never designate those which are particular.

The question may now occur, What does good music imitate? We may answer this question by asking another. What does good poetry, painting, or architecture imitate? It may be answered, They imitate nature, improved by art. The same may be said of music. What does Handel imitate in that chorus of the Messiah, "Break forth into joy, glad tidings," but the soul enraptured with true devotion? What does Giardini imitate in "Cambridge," upon these words, " And on the wings of every hour, we read thy patience still,"‡ but a mind elevated with gratitude? We cannot hear such strains of music with indifference. They insensibly arrest our feelings. Even vice itself must listen to them.

Accent, in vocal music, may be defined, the placing of the notes in that manner which shall coincide with the various emphases of the words to be sung. The common rules of pronunciation are sufficient for our direction in this part of musical science. Propriety and sense ought never to be sacrificed to caprice and fancy.

In the writers of music we find the same variety of style, as in poetry or prose, viz.; the sublime, the beautiful, the nervous, the concise, the dry, and the bombastic.

See the Messiah. Page 58, Folio. This grand chorus is too long to be inserted.

See Cambridge, as published by Dr. Madan in Lock Chapel. Page 111, Folio.

Few writers have given us specimens of the sublime. Amongst these, Handel undoubtedly stands first.* His Grand Hallelujah, and his Chorus, "Break forth into joy," in the Messiah, are excellent specimens of this style. Giardini has likewise given us some specimens in "Cambridge ;" especially on the words, "Father, how wide thy glories shine," &c: and on these, "But when we view thy great designs," &c.t In performing such strains, the mind is lost in admiration. It is almost incapable of contemplating the great ideas thus presented. Like the sublime in nature, our astonishment incapacitates us for reflecting upon the object before our eyes. The sublime in music knows no medium. The writer who attempts this, must either reach sublimity, or sink to indifference. Sublime compositions must be simple, unstudied, expressive, and connected with some great and important idea.

The specimens we might produce of the beautiful, are very numerous. They ravish, they charm, they transport us beyond conception. In this style Handel is excellent. His air in the Messiah, "I know that my Redeemer liveth,"‡ is,

* "Handel stands eminent, in his greatness and sublimity of style." See Dr. Brown's dissertation on poetry and music. Page 214.

+ Were it necessary, we might exhibit several other instances of the sublime from A. Williams, from Dr. S. Arnold, H. Purcell, and many others.

perhaps, equal to any now extant. Pergolesi, in his air, " Eja, mater, fons amoris," in his "Stabat Mater," is beautiful beyond description.*

Passing over other styles, a discussion of which would afford very little amusement, we come to the bombastic. This style, in poetry and in prose, consists in

attempting to magnify those subjects which are trifling or indifferent; or in using high sounding words and epithets without any great or noble ideas. In music it consists in laboured notes and strains, disconnected from any exalted ideas; or in attempting to communicate some low idea which cannot be expressed by notes. In this style, our unfortunate country has been peculiarly fruitful.* Almost every pedant, after learning his eight notes, has commenced author. With a genius, sterile as the desarts of Arabia, he has attempted to rival the great masters of music. On the leaden wings of dullness, he has attempted to soar into those regions of science, never penetrated but by real genius. From such distempered imaginations, no regular productions can be expected. The unhappy writers, after torturing every note in the octave, have fallen into oblivion, and have generally outlived their insignificant works.† To the great injury of true religion, this kind of music has been introduced into our places of public worship. Devotion, appalled by its destructive presence, has filed from the unhallowed sound.

Among the most prominent faults of this style, we may reckon the common fuge. As the intention of vocal music is to communicate ideas, whatever renders those ideas indistinct or obscure, must be a perversion. Let us now examine music of the style last mentioned. We shall here find four parts, in harmonic order, each, at the same time, pronouncing different words. As a striking instance of this impropriety, we will mention a fuge in a piece of music called "Montague." Beginning at the Bass, and proceeding up to the Treble, the bar, in the four parts, pronounced at the same time, will read thus; "of

See Stabat Mater. Page 9. Fol. Many other examples might be be produced from Dr. Arnold, from Worgan, Dr. Charles Burney, Millgrove, and others too numerous to mention.

* This observation is not applicable to all the writers of music in this country. Several have composed music in an agreeable and appropriate style. Some have been so fortunate as to reach the sublime.

† No other proof of this fact need be adduced, than the ephemeral publications with which New England has been inundated. Many of these have never lived to see a second edition; and nearly all have become obsolete in a few years. Good music, good painting, good poetry, never grow old.

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