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in political influence, while they hold divided empire with the weightier classes of literature-Books of every size, and kind, and character, on which moreover they exercise an authority peculiar to the present age, and never dreamed of by critics in any past period since the alphabet was invented. Formerly reviews were, on the whole, what they professed to be critical essays on new publications, and they filled a respectable office in the republic of letters, as censors who did their duty, not always with ability, but generally with fairness; or, if otherwise, with a decent gravity of injustice that seldom exposed them to retaliation. The commencement of the Edinburgh Review was the discovery of a new world in criticism, to which all authors were liable to be transported as criminals, and there dealt with according to laws made on the spot, and executed by those who made them. The speculation answered well, the adventurers grew rich and renowned, and their ambition increased with their wealth and celebrity.

Another work, the Quarterly Review, on the same scale, in the course of a few years was started in opposition to it, and this has flourished not less than its prototype, by adopting nearly the same system of tactics in literature, while it has been inveterately confronted to it in politics.

The Westminster Review and the British Critic, in their respective departments, exercise no small influence over respectable classes of readers.

In these nondescript publications downright authorship and critical commentary are combined; the latter being often subsidiary to the former, and a nominal review being an original essay on the subject, of which the work placed at the head of the article sometimes furnishes little more than the title. These distinguished periodicals, on the ground of their decided superiority to all cotemporary journals in which the same subjects are discussed, have long commanded the admiration both of friends and foes; and it is a proud proof of the ascendancy of literature in our own day, that these several reviews are the most powerful political auxiliaries, or rather engines of the several parties, which, in such a state as ours, divide public opinion between them on questions of national interest. It may be added that there are other respectable publications, bearing the name also of reviews, especially the Monthly and the Eclectic, which are conducted with various degrees of ability, but all employing more or less the same arts of criticism, and making criticism subservient to purposes foreign to itself, though captivating to the world of idle and capricious, as well as curious and intelligent, readers. By these, as well as by the magazines and newspapers, such variety and abundance of extracts from new books are regularly copied into their own pages as almost to supersede the use of the originals; whatever is most valuable in each being thus gratuitously furnished to the public. To authors of high powers this practice is eminently serviceable, as by these means they are earlier and more advantageously introduced to favour and fame than they could otherwise have been by all the arts of puffing and the expense of advertizing.

On the whole, therefore, periodical publications of every order

may be regarded as propitious in their influence to the circulation of knowledge and the interests of literature; while truth, however perverted in some instances by passion and prejudice, is more rapidly, effectually, and universally diffused by the ever-varying and everlasting conflicts maintained in these, than the same quantity with the same force of evidence could be developed in bulkier volumes by a slower process, and within an incomparably more contracted circle. Works, however, of the largest kind, and the most elaborate structure, in every department of learning, abound among us; Cyclopedias without measure, compilations without number, besides original treatises, which equally show the industry, talents, and acquirements of authors in all ranks of society, and of every gradation of intellect. Nor are there wanting books of history, voyages and travels, divinity, law, and physic, of sterling value, and worthy of the British nation, which in arts and arms is second to none in the world. The majority of these publications exhibit the same characteristic features as the more fashionable and fugitive ones previously delineated; namely, strong excitement in profession, ambitious display in execution, and excessive gratification in the entertainment which they provide. The books of every era must resemble those who wrote, and those who read them. Great expectation must be met with proportionate effect; and (unreasonable as it may appear, and as it is,) if the effect be not beyond both, a degree of disappointment is experienced on the one hand, and a measure of failure on the other.

Such, according to the best judgment of the writer of these imperfect remarks, is the present state of literature in this country, especially of popular literature, including poetry, the drama, works of imagination, and the periodical press. Of its future progress or decline, it is unnecessary to offer any conjecture. It does, however, seem to have approached a crisis, when some considerable change for the better or the worse may be anticipated; when literature in England will return to the love of nature and simplicity, or degenerate into bombast and frivolity.

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THE Violin, on its first appearance in the world, was treated with much contempt by the performers on the grave and stately instruments which it was destined so soon to supersede. It was accused of screaming and scolding," and was considered as fit only to keep in exercise the heels of dancers at fairs; while the higher places continued to be occupied by players on the lute, the harp, the viol, and the theorbo,-names of a poetical and classical sound, which the violin has never come to be. The instrument was invented after the age of originality in poetry was over. Poetry dislikes all that is modern. For its allusions, its imagery, its machinery, even its language, it loves to go back to the days when it was new and fresh-to the ages which gave birth to those productions, which all after-ages have been able to do no more than copy. A poetical hero must still be armed à la Grecque. Were he Marlborough or Wellington, he must be accoutred like Achilles or Hector,—not with a regimental coat, cocked hat, and military boots, but with cuirass, helm,

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and shield. Or, if a poet may venture to leave the ancient world, he cannot get beyond the middle ages-the ages shining, under one aspect, with the splendour of chivalry, and, under another, dark with the gloom of monkish superstition. A knight in “ panoply of polish'd steel," cowled inhabitant of the cloister, is still a poetical object, as well as an antique hero or pagan priest; in the same manner as a Gothic cathedral, or frowning" donjon keep," is still poetical, as well as a temple of Jupiter. But when we come to the present and familiar times, poetry is lost. Scott himself, after having by the help of the mail-clad chivalry of Flodden produced a battle unequalled since the days of Homer, could make nothing of well-drilled regiments of iafantry, cavalry, and artillery; and the poet himself was added to the list of those who " fell at Waterloo!" Though the violin surpasses the late, as much as the musket surpasses the bow and arrow, yet Cupid has not yet learned to wound his votaries with a bullet, nor have our poets begun to write odes or stanzas to their violins. Nevertheless, though the violin is nothing to poetry, it is every thing to music. A dwarf in stature, it is a giant in power; and, in the hands of Paganini, it has obtained a triumph which no other organ of musical sound, hardly even the human voice itself, has been able to achieve.

We mean to present our musical readers-and what reader is not musical now-a-days?-with a sketch of the history of this king of instruments, and of some of the most distinguished musicians who have awakened its powers. We shall not enter into any deep researches or abstruse disquisitions on the subject; but, while we shall confine ourselves to such things as will interest every lover of music at the present day, we shall draw together our materials from a considerable variety of sources.

The violin has been the result of a beautiful series of improvements in the art of producing musical sounds from strings. The rudest stringed instrument was the testudo, or lyre; the sounds of which were produced by striking, with the finger, strings in a state of tension, the pitch of each sound being regulated by the length or thickness of the string. Sometimes the strings, instead of the finger, were struck with a plectrum, or piece of wood or other hard matter; but this we can hardly imagine to have been an improvement, as the tone of the modern mandoline, which is produced by means of a plectrum of quill, is not so agreeable as that of the guitar. A great improvement, however, was the introduction of a sounding-board; the tone of the instrument being thus produced by the vibration of the wood, instead of, as formerly, the mere vibration of the string, and being thus incomparably more full and resonant. This, most probably, constituted the difference between the testudo and the cithara, or harp, of the ancients.

The next great improvement in stringed instruments consisted in giving them a neck, or finger-board; by means of which, the same string, pressed by the fingers at different points, was enabled to give a series of notes. This improvement was first embodied in the instruments of the lute species. The lute is believed to have been originally an Eastern instrument, and to have been imported by the Moors into Spain. The lute is, or rather was, for it has almost disappeared,—an instrument of a most elegant form, with a beautifully-turned convex back, tapering into its long neck, or finger-board. It had generally eleven strings; and the finger-board was marked with frets, or divisions, at the points where the strings were pressed by the fingers. There were different species, differing in size and number of strings. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the lute was in its highest vogue. The preux chevalier and high-born dame reckoned the art of singing to the lute one of their most elegant and indispensable accomplishments. The poetry of those times is full of it; and it makes the principal figure in the musical pictures of Titian and Rubens. The extreme difficulty, when music be

came more and more complex, of managing an instrument with so many strings, made the lute fall into disuse.

The guitar, simpler in its construction than the late, might seem to have been an improvement on that instrument; but this cannot, in fact, be said to have been the case, as the guitar has been known in Spaia, France, and other countries for many centuries. It is now, if we except the mandoline (a trifling instrument little used), the only instrument of the lute species of which the practice is still kept up.

The invention of the bow was the next great step in the progress of stringed instruments. The period of this invention has been the subject of much learned debate, with which we shall not trouble our readers. An instrument called erwth, with strings raised on a bridge, and played with a bow, has existed in Wales from a remote antiquity, and has been considered in this country as the father of the violin tribe. The old English term of crowder, for fiddler, seems to give countenance to this opinion. It appears however, from a Treatise on Music by Jerome of Moravia, in the thirteenth century, that instruments of this species, already known by the name of vio!, existed on the continent.

The different instruments which went under the general name of viol, were in the most common use during the sixteenth, and till about the middle of the seventeenth century. In construction they differed from each other only in size, as the modern violin, tenor, and violoncello, differ from each other; but this produced a difference in the manner of playing them, and in their pitch. They were of three sizes; the trebleviol, tenor-viol, and bass-viol. They had six strings, and a fingerboard marked with frets, like that of the lute or guitar.

The last improvement was the change of the viol into the violin. The violin took its rise from the treble viol, by its being diminished in size, having its strings reduced from six to four, and its finger-board deprived of frets. The diminished number of strings made the execution of the passages, which were now introduced into music, more casy; and the removal of the frets enabled the player to regulate the position of the fingers by a much better guide-the delicacy of his own ear. By the same process, the other instruments of the viol tribe were changed into the modern tenor, (which still retains its generic name of viola,) and violoncello.

The violin seems to have been in general use in France earlier than in Italy, Germany, or England. Its acute and sprightly tones were first used to accompany the dances of that merry nation; a circumstance which, with its puny appearance, made it to be looked on with some contempt when it appeared in these other countries. The first great violinplayer however, on record, was Baltazarini, an Italian, who was brought into France by Catherine de Medicis in 1577. The celebrated Arcangelo Corelli may be considered the father of the violin; and the Italians have maintained their pre-eminence upon it, from the days of Corelli down to those of Paganini.

Corelli was born at Fusignano in 1653, and distinguished himself at an early age, both as a composer and performer on the violin. In 1686, after our James II. had taken the unhappy step of proclaiming himself a Papist, he sent an ambassador to Rome with considerable pomp, for the purpose of cultivating a good understanding with the Pope. This gave occasion to various festivities in that city; and, among others, a great musical entertainment was given by the celebrated Christina Queen of Sweden, who, since her abdication, had fixed her residence there. On this occasion an allegorical opera, written for the purpose of celebrating the accession of a Catholic prince to the throne of England, was performed. This drama was written by the celebrated poet Alessandro Guidi, and the music composed by Bernardo Pasquini. The drama, which is to be found in the Verona edition of Guidi's Poems, is, according to the taste of the times, of an allegorical nature. The charac

ters are London, the Thames, Fame, and a good and evil genius; with a chorus of a hundred singers. Corelli, as the greatest violinist of the time, was selected to lead the orchestra, which consisted of a hundred and fifty performers.

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About the year 1700, Corelli was leader of the opera band at Rome. At this time, and during the rest of his life, he enjoyed the favour of Cardinal Ottoboni, a liberal and enlightened patron of poetry and the fine arts. He conducted the musical entertainments given by the Cardinal, in his palace, every Monday evening. Here he became acquainted with Handel. One evening, a serenata composed by Handel, entitled "Il Trionfo del Tempo," (afterwards brought out in London, with English words, under the title of "The Triumph of Time and Truth,") was performed. Corelli, in leading the band, did not play the overture to the satisfaction of the composer; who, with his usual impetuosity, snatched the violin out of his hand. Corelli, with that gentleness which marked his character, merely said, " Mio caro Sassone, questa musica è nello stilo Francese, di che io non m'intendo."'My dear Saxon, this music is in the French style, which I do not understand." Handel, in his younger days, made Lulli his model in writing overtures.

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Corelli's Solos for the Violin, the best and most popular of all his works, were published at Rome in 1700, and dedicated to Sophia Charlotte, Electress of Brandenburg.

The concluding part of his life was melancholy. Younger players began to surpass him in power of execution; and the mortifications he suffered on that account preyed on his sensitive mind and shortened his days. The following anecdotes of his latter years were related by the celebrated Geminiani, one of the most distinguished of his scholars; and, as Geminiani saw and heard what he relates, there is, unhappily, no reason to doubt their accuracy.

At the time that Corelli enjoyed the highest reputation, his fame having reached the court of Naples, and excited in the King a desire to hear him, he was invited to that capital. Corelli accepted the invitation with some reluctance; and, lest he should not be well accompanied, he took with him his own second violin and violoncello. At Naples he found Alessandro Scarlatti and several other masters, who entreated him to play some of his concertos before the King. This he for some time declined, on account of his whole band not being with him, and there was no time, he said, for a rehearsal. At length, however, be consented; and, in great fear, performed the first of his concertos. His astonishment was very great to find that the Neapolitan band executed his concertos almost as accurately at sight, as his own band after repeated rehearsals, when they had almost got them by heart." Si suona a Napoli!" said he to his second violin:-"They play at Naples!"

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After this, being again admitted into His Majesty's presence, and desired to perform one of his sonatas, the King found the adagio so long and dry that he got tired and quitted the room, to Corelli's great mortification. Afterwards he was desired to lead in the performance of a masque composed by Scarlatti, which was to be executed before the King. This he undertook; but, from Scarlatti not being much acquainted with the violin, the part was somewhat awkward and difficult. one place it went up to F in altissimo upon the first string, and when they came to that passage Corelli was unable to execute it; but he was astonished beyond measure to hear the Neapolitan leader, and other violins, perform with the utmost ease what had baffled his skill. A song succeeded; and Corelli, flurried and disconcerted by his failure, mistook the key, and led it off in C major instead of C minor. “Once more!" said Scarlatti, good naturedly. Still Corelli persisted in his error, til Scarlatti was obliged to call out to him and set him right. So mortified was poor Corelli with this disgrace, and the general

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