science has been, in this way, thoroughly analyzed, to arrange the whole matter synthetically, is a useful exercise both of the judgment and of the memory. In a word, we believe analysis to be the only true method of acquiring knowledge, whether the learner is a child or a philosopher, and synthesis the best and the easiest way of retaining what is acquired.

We have been led into these remarks by the pamphlet before us. The title page of

the essay will show that the contents are of a very miscellaneous character,-perhaps too much so. It would have been better for the author to have restricted himself to the advantages of the analytic method, in the sciences on which he touches. Still, we like to see practical remarks in any form, on a subject so important; and some of those which are presented in this pamphlet may be very useful in places where

education has not attained even to the de

mind is accessible to instruction, and where objects
are accessible to the mind.

66

Geography is the first branch of educa-
tion to which the author would apply “a
more practical and interesting method of
instruction."

On the existing plan of instruction in this branch,
a book professedly simplified to the capacity of
children, is put into the hands of the young begin-
ner. He opens it for his first lesson, and finds it
begin with a view of the universe, or an exposition
of the Newtonian system, involving mathematical
him; and when his lesson is got and recited, he
terms which are of course utterly unintelligible to
knows just as little of practical geography as be-
fore. There are two positive objections to this
mode of instruction. It degrades the operations of
the great principles of scientific research, which
It opposes
are acknowledged in every other mental pursuit.
It is, in fact, nothing but an adherence to the ex-
ploded system which made a knowledge of generals
a sure key to the understanding of particulars.

the mind into mere unmeaning rote.

The plan suggested by the author is too gree of practical excellence which it has long for insertion. It amounts however to in our vicinity. We will confine ourselves, this. Instead of beginning with geography, however, to those parts of the essay which let a child learn, in the first place, the deadvocate the analytic method of instruc- tails of topography as applied to the place tion. We fully agree with the author, of his nativity or of his residence. When that if Locke's definition of the purposes of education is correct, most school books and most teachers are wrong.

Locke represents education as intended to pro

duce two results-to facilitate, first, the acquisition, secondly, the communication of knowledge. Now, would it naturally be believed that, in the face of this correct and simple arrangement, the superintendants of education would, through ignorance or negligence, invert the order of the abovementioned points, and thus involve themselves in the absurdity of teaching youth to express ideas, before teaching them to think? But what is the fact? Turn to almost any school, and you will find the answer, when you see that the first book which is put into the hands of a child that has just learned to read, is an English Grammar, from which the scholar is to learn the rts of speaking and writing. The order of nature is, first learn to think, and then learn to communicate your thoughts; but the order of education is, first learn to communicate your thoughts, and then learn to think.

The usual plea in justification of the common method of instruction is, that in early childhood something is wanted, on which to exercise and discipline the mind; that it is no matter what you take for this purpose; and that at any rate the languages suit it very well. Now it is true that we do want something on which to discipline the raw mind; but do we therefore want the hardest exercise that we can select? Because bodily exercise is beneficial to the health of children, do we set them to hard la

bour?

Another view of this subject will make it plain, that the present arrangement of education leads the mind in a direction contrary to the order of nature. The young learner is introduced first into the mental, and then into the material world. Now the first glimpses of thought and the first awakening of curiosity, in the mind of a child, are caused by external objects. The movements of thought pass unconscious and unheeded, at that early stage of being, in which all that is interesting in exist ence is bounded by the circle of the senses. tellectual objects appear only as a shadowy something, which never rises into any thing more definite than the form of mystery. Education, therefore, must not begin here; it must begin where the

In

commends a similar course of lessons. We are fully convinced that it would be much more entertaining and useful to the scholars of all our schools, to begin with the history of Boston, instead of the origin of the human race, the origin of society, and the other remote topics usually discussed at the commencement of a course of general history. In Blair's "Mother's Catechism," we have a good specimen of the plan recommended, applied to the instruction of very young children.

A Musical Biography: or, Sketches of the Lives and Writings of Eminent Musical Characters. Interspersed with an Epitome of Interesting Musical Matter. Collated and compiled by John R. Parker. Boston. 1825. 8vo. pp. 250. We need not the weighty authority of Dr Johnson to persuade us, that no kind of reading is so generally interesting as biography. If tolerably well written, the life of an eminent man, whether he be distinguished from the commonalty by his character or by the events of his life, can hardly fail to he is become familiar with these, let him interest and gratify all classes of readers. proceed to chorography, and become ac- Every one, whose mind is forcibly bent into quainted with every thing which it should a peculiar direction by his habits of intelteach him regarding his own state and coun- lectual action and enjoyment, will have try. Let him, last of all, take up geogra- necessarily his favourite books and studies. phy, and begin, not at Herschel, nor at the The metaphysician loves to pore over the Sun, but at the quarter of the world in last work of some mighty master in "the which he lives, and so extend his knowl- science of puzzling and being puzzled ;"edge of the science, till he is able to take the natural philosopher or historian leaves those general views of the subject, which mind for matter, and finds no pleasure in constitute a synthesis. On this plan, a bewildering himself with the vague uncerchild in Boston would be taught, first, the tainties of the intellectual world;-and the situation of his native city, then every in- statesman or politician feels a complacent teresting and instructive particular which contempt for all pursuits which are no way usually enters into a topographical sketch. connected with public matters, and throw He would then proceed to the county; no light upon the noble art of getting up in thence, to the state, and to the Union. In the world. But all these classes are limited, this way a thorough foundation would be and the books which are made for them are laid for subsequent enlargement of his geo-made for none beside them. With the hisgraphical knowledge; and, in the mean tories of individuals, of their actions, their time, he would be put in possession of a com- fortunes, their conditions, it is far otherwise. plete practical acquaintance with what is D'Israeli remarks, in his Curiosities of Litmost useful to him in the science he is ac-erature, if we do not misrecollect, that, exquiring. We should like much to see such cepting the Bible, no books have passed a course adopted with a class of learners. through so many editions as Robinson CruWe feel persuaded, that if a fair specimen soe and The Pilgrim's Progress; now both of of this kind could be exhibited, it would af- these books relate purely to fictitious events, ford the best argument for practical ana- and one is strictly allegorical; but they are lytic instruction, that its advocates could still of the nature of biographies. All perpresent. We agree with the author in say-sonal tales, all stories which tell of remarking that

This mode of teaching geography, besides being
adapted to the capacity of the youngest learner,
tends to communicate that practical cast of knowl
edge which is so useful in life.
Lessons in geog-
semblance as possible to the interesting recitals of
raphy, when taught in this way, bear as near a re-
of a country, and seen every object which he de-
an individual who has travelled through every part
scribes; and, above all, it gives the pupil a thor-
the topography, of the place of his nativity or of
ough acquaintance with the geography, or rather
his residence. Of what use is it to teach a child
the day, or the year, or the distance of Herschel,
he daily walks, the river that flows by his door, or
whilst you leave him ignorant of the road on which
the situation of his own birthplace?

For learners in history the author re

able incidents that befel individuals, or deeply striking traits of character, or describe singular performances, whether they are novels and romances, claiming to be wholly fictitious, or strictly veracious biographies, have one thing in common. they are lost in the mazes, or obscured in They treat of men-and not of men as the distance of history, but as they live and move around us. They exhibit one who is allied to us by a kindred nature, in circumstances which excite interest and attention. man beings, makes us find pleasure in folThat sympathy which belongs to us as hulowing, with our imagination, the footsteps of a brother, through good and evil fortune,

and our love of novelty is gratified by the
disclosure of strange scenes, and our curi-
osity is pleased as we look upon the daily,
domestic, familiar doings of men whose emi-it
nence of station has placed them afar off,
or whose singular qualities or acts have
awakened our wonder.

But a biography, which has selected all
its subjects from one class of men, as it may
hope to interest readers of that class more
than a more general work, it must pay for
this privilege by giving pleasure to a nar-
rower circle. The book now before us is a
"Musical Biography,"-that is to say, it is
a biography of men and women, who were
eminent for making music. To them who are
especial lovers of sweet sounds, it may be ex-
ceedingly interesting; but we must submit to
all the reproach which may be merited by
the admission, that the toil of reading for
the purpose of reviewing it, has not been
altogether a labour of love. The author
seems disposed to throw off all responsi-
bility, excepting so much as attaches to
him in the character of compiler; but we
are authorized to say, that even this bur-
then, light though it be, is not borne with
remarkable grace or success.
But we pro-
ceed to a more particular account of the
contents of this volume,—and shall endeav-
our to give such extracts as may save us
from the necessity of expressing an opinion
of its literary merits.

After the Dedication and Introduction, the body of the work begins with the Life of Handel;—which is very respectably put together, and relates many facts which most people who have taken the trouble to learn any thing about Handel, are acquainted with. A note to page 17, relates an amus ing anecdote of this great musician.

This celebrated composer, though of a very robust and uncouth external appearance, yet had such a remarkable irritability of nerves, that he could not bear to hear the tuning of instruments, and therefore this was always done before Handel arrived. A musical wag, who knew how to extract some mirth from his irascibility of temper, stole into the orchestra on a night when the Prince of Wales was to be present at the performance of a new Oratorio, and untuned all the instruments, some half a note, others a whole note lower than the organ. As soon as the prince arrived, Handel gave the signal of beginning conspirito, but such was the horrible discord, that the enraged musician started up from his seat, and having overturned a double bass which stood in his way, he seized a kettledrum, which he threw with such violence at the head of the leader of the band, that he lost his full bottomed wig by the effort; without waiting to replace it, he advanced bareheaded to the front of the orchestra, breathing vengeance, but so much choaked with passion that utterance denied him. In this ridiculous attitude he stood staring and stamping for some minutes amidst a convulsion of laughter, nor could he be prevailed on to resume bis seat till the prince went personally to appease his wrath, which he with great difficulty accomplished.

Here follow remarks on Handel's music; and we are somewhat afraid to talk much of them, lest we should expose our ignorance too plainly. For instance, we might object a little to the phrase "effects [which] he has worked up"-which phrase Mr Parker "works up" most unsparingly; but

it may be technical, and so we shall say stances related of this remarkable man's
nothing about it.
infancy and early childhood, are almost in-
credible, and could not be believed were
they not attested by indisputable evidence.
Perhaps no difference of intellectual ability
illustrates the possible difference between
those who share a common nature more
strongly, than the astonishing superiority of
Mozart over all others, in the early develope-
ment, if not in the continued vigour of that
one talent for which he was distinguished.
The faculties of sense and mind are com-
mon to all; but the different measures with
which they are meted out, seem to separate
men from men, by as wide an interval as if
they were not of one species. At the risk
of telling very trite stories, we shall make
some extracts from this life.

The Life of Haydn comes next, and rather amazed us,-nor are we sure that we rightly understand it. We suppose the compiler gathered his facts where he could, and put them together in his own way,-giving credit for paragraphs and long passages; especially as the Introduction says, "We [i. e. the compiler] have detailed their history [Handel's, Haydn's, and Mozart's] with a minuteness that we could scarcely allow to others." Judge then, gentle readers, with what surprise we read such passages as these, which differ in no respect of typographical arrangement or appearance from their neighbours.

Long before Haydn rose to the Creation, he had composed (in 1774) an Oratorio entitled Tobias, an indifferent performance, two or three passages of which only, announces the great master. You Handel's music: he learned from the works of the know that while in London, Haydn was struck with English musician, the art of being majestic. One day at Prince Schwartzenberg's when Handel's Messiah was performed, upon expressing my admiration of one of the sublime chorusses of that work, Haydn said to me thoughtfully, This man is the father of us all'

*

In the beginning of the year 1798, the Oratorio was completed; and in the following Lent, it was performed, for the first time, in the rooms of the Schwartzenberg palace, at the expense of the Dilettanti Society, who had requested it from the

author.

I

Mozart was scarcely three years old when his father began to give lessons on the harpsichord to his sister, who was then seven. His astonishing His delight was to seek for thirds on the piano, and disposition for music immediately manifested itself. nothing could equal his joy when he had found this harmonious chord. The minute details into which I am about to enter, will, I presume, be interesting to the reader.

When he was four years old, his father began to teach him, almost in sport, some minuets, and other pieces of music, an occupation which was as agreeble to the master, as to the pupil. Mozart would learn a minuet in half an hour, and a piece of greater extent in less than twice that time. Immediately after, he played them with the greatest clearness, and perfectly in time. In less than a year, he made such rapid progress, that, at five years old, he already invented little pieces of music, which he played to his father, and which the latter, order to encourage the rising talent of his son, was at the trouble of writing down.

Who can describe the applause, the delight, the
enthusiasm of this society. I was present; and
can assure you, I never witnessed such a scene.
The flower of the literary and musical society of in
Vienna were assembled in the room, which was
well adapted to the purpose, and Haydn himself
directed the orchestra. The most profound silence,
the most scrupulous attention, a sentiment I might
almost say of religious respect, were the disposi-
tions which prevailed when the first stroke of the
bow was given. The general expectation was not
disappointed. A long train of beauties, to that

moment unknown, unfolded themselves before us;

our minds, overcome with pleasure and admiration,
experienced during two successive hours, what they
had rarely felt, a happy existence, produced by
desires ever lively, ever renewed, and never dis-
appointed.

On my return to the Austrian capital, I have to
dear friend, that the larva of Haydn
inform you, my
has also quitted us. That great man no longer ex-
ists, except in our memory. I have often told you,
that he was become extremely weak before he en-
tered his seventy-eighth year. It was the last of
his life.

*

*

*

A few weeks after his death, Mozart's requiem was performed in honour of him, in the Scotch church. I ventured into the city, to attend this ceremony. I saw there some generals and administrators of the French army, who appeared affected with the loss which the arts had just sustained. I recognized the accents of my native land, and spoke to several of them; and, among others, to an amiable man, who wore that day the uniform of the Institute of France, which I thought very elegant.

Now if all this be as it would seem, we have nothing more to say about it; but if, as we are tempted to suspect, these passages are quoted verbatim from some body's letter, we venture to recommend to Mr Parker, to show in his next edition, by marks of quotation, or otherwise, that "I," does not in these cases mean the "the Compiler."

*

A short time afterwards, Wenzl, a skilful violin

player, who had then just begun to compose, came to Mozart, the father, to request his observations on six trios, which he had written during the journey of the former to Vienna. Schachtner, the archbishop's trumpeter, to whom Mozart was particularly attached, happened to be at the house, and we give the following anecdote in his words:

The father,' said Schachtner, played the bass, Wenzl the first violin, and I was to play the second. Mozart requested permission to take this last part; but his father reproved him for this childish demand, observing, that as he had never received any regular lessons on the violin, he could not possibly play it properly. The son replied, that it did not appear to him necessary to receive lessons in order to play the second violin. His father, half angry at this reply, told him to go away, and not interrupt us. Wolfgang was so hurt at this, tha: he began to cry bitterly. As he was going away with his little violin, and the father, with a good deal of difficulty, conI begged that he might be permitted to play with me, sented. Well, said he to Wolfgang, you may play with M. Schachtner, on condition that you play very softly, and do not let yourself be heard: otherwise, I shall send you out directly. We began the trio, little Mozart playing with me, but it was not long before I perceived, with the greatest astonishment, that I was perfectly useless. Without saying any thing, I laid down my violin, and looked at the father, who shed tears of affection at the sight.The child played all the six trios in the same man

ner. The commendations we gave him, made him humor him, we let him try, and could not forbear pretend that he could play the first violin. To laughing on hearing him execute this part, very imperfectly, it is true, but still so as never to be set fast.'

*

*

his whole life, his health was delicate. He was

Mozart never reached his natural growth. During

Then follows the Life of Mozart, and it unusual, there was nothing striking in his physiog thin and pale: and though the form of his face was is quite well done. The singular circum-nomy, but its extreme variableness. The express

able to trace him.

325

ion of his countenance changed every moment, but him fairy tales, and odd stories, which made him more than I expected, and I have extended it much indicated nothing more than the pleasure or pain laugh till the tears came. The punch, however, beyond what I at first designed.' 'In this case, it which he experienced at the instant. He was re- made him so drowsy, that he could only go on is but just to increase the premium; here are fifty markable for a habit which is usually the attendant while his wife was talking, and dropped asleep as ducats more.'-'Sir,' said Mozart, with increasing of stupidity. His body was perpetually in motion; soon as she ceased. The efforts which he made to astonishment, who then are you?'-That is nothhe was either playing with his hands, or beating the keep himself awake, the continual alternation of ing to the purpose; in a month's, time I shall reground with his foot. There was nothing extraor- sleep and watching, so fatigued him, that his wife turn.' dinary in his other habits, except his extreme fond- persuaded him to take some rest, promising to Mozart immediately called one of his servants, ness for the game of billiards. He had a table in awake him in an hour's time. He slept so pro-and ordered him to follow this extraordinary perhis house, on which he played every day by him-foundly, that she suffered him to repose for two sonage, and find out who he was; but the man self, when he had not any one to play with. His hours. At five o'clock in the morning, she awoke failed for want of skill, and returned without being hands were so habituated to the piano, that he was him. He had appointed the music-copiers to come rather clumsy in every thing beside. At table, he at seven, and by the time they arrived, the overnever carved, or if he attempted to do so, it was ture was finished. They had scarcely time to with much awkwardness and difficulty. His wife write out the copies necessary for the orchestra, usually undertook that office. The same man, who and the musicians were obliged to play it without from his earliest age, had shewn the greatest ex- a rehearsal. Some persons pretend that they can pansion of mind in what related to his art, in other discover in this overture the passages where Mozart respects remained always a child. He never knew dropt asleep, and those where he suddenly awoke how properly to conduct himself. The manage- again. ment of domestic affairs, the proper use of money, the judicious selection of his pleasures, and temperance in the enjoyment of them, were never virtues to his taste. The gratification of the moment was always uppermost with him. His mind was so absorbed by a crowd of ideas, which rendered him incapable of all serious reflection, that, during his whole life, he stood in need of a guardian to take care of his temporal affairs. His father was well aware of his weakness in this respect, and it was on this account that he persuaded his wife to follow him to Paris, in 1777, his engagements not allowing him to leave Salzburg himself. *

Mozart judged his own works with impartiality,

and often with a severity, which he would not easily have allowed in another person. The emperor Joseph II., was fond of Mozart, and had appointed him his maître de chapelle; but this prince pretended to be a dilettante. His travels in Italy had given him a partiality for the music of that country, and the Italians who were at his court did not fail to keep up this preference, which, I must confess, appears to me to be well founded.

These men spoke of Mozart's first essays with more jealousy than fairness, and the emperor, who scarcely ever judged for himself, was easily carried away by their decisions. One day, after hearing the rehearsal of a comic opera (die Entführung aus dem Serail), which he had himself demanded of Mozart, he said to the composer: 'My dear Mozart,

There are few who have any fondness for music and have not heard of Mozart's requiem. The singular circumstances attending the composition of this beautiful piece of music, were related in an interesting work, recently published, from which Mr Parker appears to have borrowed very largely. These facts may be fresh in the recollection of many of our readers; but they will pardon our quoting them for the benefit of others, to whom they will be After all, perhaps there is nothing in these circumstances so striking as the superstitious feeling which invested them with such fearful importance.

new.

One day, when he was plunged in a profound reverie, he heard a carriage stop at his door. A stranger was announced, who requested to speak to him. A person was introduced, handsomely dressed, of dignified and impressive manners. have been commissioned, sir, by a man of considerable importance, to call upon you.' Who is he?' interrupted Mozart.- He does not wish to be known. Well, what does he want?'-He has just lost a person whom he tenderly loved, and whose memory will be eternally dear to him. He is desirous of annually commemorating this mourn

Poor Mozart was then persuaded that he was no ordinary being; that he had a connexion with the other world, and was sent to announce to him his approaching end. He applied himself with the more ardour to his Requiem, which he regarded as the most durable monument of his genius. While thus employed, he was seized with the most alarming fainting fits, but the work was at length completed appointed, the stranger returned, but Mozart was At the time before the expiration of the month.

no more.

A host of lesser names follow the three great leaders. We have not room to speak of them particularly, and shall not pretend to judge of the value of the scientific remarks which are scattered through the volume. Of its literary merits, we must say a word or two. Among the lives, are those of some individuals, of whom nothing has been printed which afforded an opportunity for compilation, and Mr Parker, as we presume, in these cases claims the merit and abides the responsibility of authorship. In these lives, such passages as this, which begins the life of the late Mr T. S. Webb, may sometimes be found.

This gentleman was a distinguished amateur in Imusic, and attained a high degree of celebrity, having been appointed the first President of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, an institution under whose auspices, were laid a foundation which aspires to an eminent rank among the first of musical societies in this country.

And this, in the Life of Mrs Ostinelli, late

that is too fine for my ears; there are too many ful event by a solemn service, for which he requests Miss Hewitt,-which we fancy it would in

notes there.I ask your majesty's pardon,' replied Mozart, drily; there are just as many notes as there should be be.' The emperor said nothing, and appeared rather embarrassed by the reply; but when the opera was performed, he bestowed on it the greatest encomiums. *

*

The time which he most willingly employed in composition, was the morning, from six or seven o'clock till ten, when he got up. After this, he did no more the rest of the day, unless he had to finish a piece that was wanted. He always worked very irregularly. When an idea struck him, he was not to be drawn from it. If he was taken from the piano forte, he continued to compose in the midst of his friends, and passed whole nights with his pen in his hand. At other times, he had such a disinclination to work, that he could not complete a piece till the moment of its performance. It once happened that he put off some music which he had engaged to furnish for a court concert, so long, that he had not time to write out the part which he was to perform himself. The emperor Joseph, who was peeping every where, happening to cast his eyes on the sheet which Mozart seemed to be playing from, was surprised to see nothing but empty lines, and said to him: Where's your part? Here,' replied Mozart, putting his hand to his forehead.

The same circumstance nearly occurred with respect to the overture of Don Juan. It is generally esteemed the best of his overtures; yet it was only composed the night previous to the first representation, after the general rehearsal had taken place. About eleven o'clock in the evening, when he reired to his apartment, he desired his wife to make im some punch, and to stay with him, in order to Keep him awake. She accordingly began to tell

some measure puzzle Mrs Ostinelli to comprehend precisely.

you to compose a requiem.' Mozart was forcibly
struck by this discourse, by the grave manner in
which it was uttered, and by the air of mystery in
which the whole was involved. He engaged to She indicates a becoming rigour of feminine
write the requiem. The stranger continued, 'Em-modesty; in the picturing of her imagination, as
ploy all your genius on this work; it is destined evinced in the intellectual dominion over the art,
for a connoisseur.' 'So much the better. What than an exuberant degree of enthusiastic imagina-
time do you require? A month.'-' Very well:
in a month's time I shall return.-What price do
you set on your work?'-'A hundred ducats' The
stranger counted them on the table, and disap-
peared.

Mozart remained lost in thought for some time; he then suddenly called for pen, ink, and paper, and, in spite of his wife's entreaties, began to write. This rage for composition continued several days; he wrote day and night, with an ardour which seemed continually to increase; but his constitution, already in a state of great debility, was unable to support his enthusiasm: one morning, he fell senseless, and was obliged to suspend his work. Two or three days after, when his wife sought to divert his mind from the gloomy presages which occupied it, he said to her abruptly: It is certain that I am writing this Requiem for myself; it will serve for my funeral service.' Nothing could remove this impression from his mind.

tion.

But the most remarkable among them is that which closes the biographical part of the volume. It is rather a suspicious circumstance, when a gentleman, upon entering a room, finds it necessary to begin his remarks with an apology for being there. We are not able to say how far Mr Parker was bound to put together so many excuses for his daring, in the instance before us, but we have a decided opinion, that if they were necessary, this life ought to have been omitted. Besides many other paragraphs, full of reasons for what he was about to do, Mr Parker lays down the following eight in a period of twenty-seven lines.

To exonerate ourselves, however, from all posAs he went on, he felt his strength diminish from sible imputation of premature officiousness, or day to day, and the score advanced slowly. The breach of delicacy; we fain would impress, on the month which he had fixed, being expired, the too scrupulous, our own conviction, that we ought stranger again made his appearance. I have not have sacrificed to mere punctilios so precious found it impossible,' said Mozart, to keep my an opportunity to present to the lovers of harmony word.' 'Do not give yourself any uneasiness,' replied with an abstract yet grateful object of contemplathe stranger; what further time do you require?'-tion; to encourage bashful talent by showing how 'Another month. The work has interested me much may be accomplished, where such talents

praise cannot be too high. This memoir | less and unattractive. So in life, knowing we
concludes thus:
shall be disappointed, expectation never tires.

exist, without prejudice to other essential acquire-
ments; to produce a powerful example in vindi-
cating the student from the charge of frivolous pur-
suit, and in rescuing the study itself from unmerited
We have, therefore, a right to conclude, that as a
Next comes a sonnet of sixteen lines.
obloquy that mistakes its own paralizing effect for performer, she has never yet been excelled or even In the next piece our language fails be-
an extrinsic imaginary cause; to fix upon a guide equalled by any of the same age; and that in apply; neath him, and he is put to his Greek and
near at hand to aid us in illustrating certain posi-ing to her the word prodigy, we restore the word Latin and divers other, to us, unknown lan-
tions relative to an art which labours as yet under itself to its legitimate owner, and rescue it from the
the weight of local prejudices, and erroneously sup- profanation to which it has been so often subjected.guages; for example, he talks of "
"pure
posed to debuse, when in reality it elevates the mind;
to cherish true taste, and discriminating love for the Muzio Clementi, he is said to have been strain;" but enough; we will give a pre-
We would notice, that in the Life of of a "roscid emerald spray," of a “hymnic
waves hyaline," of a "velvet roseous bed,"
highest species of performance by holding up an born in 1725, to have married his first wife mium, no less than the whole volume, to
unequivocal model of excellence; to do honour to
our native town, by proclaiming of what exquisite in 1803 or 1804,-and his present wife in
fruit on the tree of science it has been the nursery, 1811, and that "we close our sketch of the
an honour, which, we venture to predict, will at no life of this extraordinary man, whom we
distant time be envied by the first capitals of Europe; rejoice to see on the verge of seventy."
to satisfy legitimate public curiosity by directing it We presume there is some mistake of the
to a proper focus of vision; and to discharge our
own particular duty, in describing to the best of our press in this.
abilities, (better late than never) a phenomenon,
which falls so exclusively within our sphere of
observation.

Here we have, with an apology for writing and publishing these memoirs now, an admission that it ought to have been done before. On the next page it is stated, that

Poems, by Sumner Lincoln Fairfield. New
York, 1823. 12mo. pp. 188.

Lays of Melpomene. By Sumner L. Fair-
field. Portland, 1824. 12mo. pp. 72.
The Sisters of St Clara. A Portuguese
Tale. By Sumner L. Fairfield. Portland,
1825. 12mo. pp. 54.

The first attempt to instruct her, at the age of six, was after a few trials, abandoned as too onerous. The second, only a year after, proved decisive. Her talents unfolded themselves with a rapidity to us sometime ago, we were so untrue to WHEN the first of these books was sent that, at the first onset, outstriped the regular pace of tuition. Every new lesson was learned with our duty, as to determine not to notice it. such expeditious ease, as to render indispensable For this determination we had several reathe intervening burthen of home instruction, which sons. We knew something of Sumner L. lesson, and which daily increasing, made it at last feelings of the man by saying what we placed her several pages in advance of the ensuing Fairfield, and were unwilling to wound the an act of justice to unite the credit with the labour Accordingly she became exclusively the pupil of thought of his writings; nor did it seem her own father, who found himself thus unexpect necessary, as we believed that the work edly compelled to teach, while he himself had yet had fallen "still-born from the press," and to learn; the piano-forte not being an instrument we hoped its failure would discourage its on which he is a distinguished amateur. author from a second attempt. That hope We cannot understand this passage, un- has been disappointed; and when the other less it means that Miss Eustaphieve learned two books were put, almost at the same so rapidly that the ordinary masters of the moment, into our hands; when we saw that art were left behind, and Mr Eustaphieve the author, by his pertinacity, was forcing was compelled to learn music himself, that himself into notice; when, worst of all, we he might keep so far in advance of her perceived a disposition in some, not merely progress, as to supply her with guidance to pardon, but even to praise his producand instruction,-in which case, we should tions, we thought that we ought no longer think the talents of Miss Eustaphieve came to keep silence, but do the little that we to her by inheritance. But it would seem could to protect the literature of our counthat Miss Eustaphieve performs admirably try from the disgrace of having works like as pianiste (to use a phrase, the invention of which we accredit to Mr Parker-perhaps in ignorance), but she does not compose. In connexion with this fact, Mr Parker makes the following remarks; and we regret to say, that we have so little music in our souls, that the imagery employed seems rather forcible than exact.

Theseus the groping hero, and Ariadne the tutelar spirit leading him out of the labyrinth, present a just emblem of that close alliance which subsists between the great composer and the great performer, and which elevates the latter far above the mere mechanism of execution. Nay, a composer of moderate reputation is absolutely inferior to a performer of rare, but acknowledged merit; as it requires much less genius to constitute the one, than seize, as does the other, the master-key of witchcraft, to wield the mysterious machinery, and to put in motion the whole mighty creation with the dark towering spirit of a Beethoven!

We have no doubt that high praise is due to this lady; but in his endeavours to direct public observation to "a proper focus of vision," Mr Parker seems to think that the

these thrust upon the public and pass unre-
proved. We are sorry to be compelled to
this; but feeling ourselves bound to notice
these books, we feel equally bound to tell

our readers what they are.

anyone who will explain to us the meaning

The first of these volumes contains very many pieces, of which some are in verse, and some in what the author no doubt fantastic preface, from which we learn three meant for verse, and is introduced by a things; first, that the poems, as they are called, were written at the age of nineteen; next, that the author would rather have them condemned, than treated with contempt; and lastly, that he disapproves of immoral writers. One extract from the preface will serve as a specimen of Mr Fairfield's

prose.

When we gaze upon the arching and variegated rainbow, as it displays its tinted beauties in the deep-blue fields of ether, the fond heart of nature's devotee throbs for a mansion in that aerial dome; to its sorrow that, like the moving figures on distant but would, were its animated desires fulfilled, find arras, all the glories beaming there were cold, life

of this stanza.

Beneath the ornate vestment's glow,

Lurk thoughts no mortal ear can learn,
Dark dash the lava floods of wo,

Ah! fiery billows roll and burn;
The mimic smile, like osprey's wing,
Hides the deep death-wound of our fate,
The dying swan doth music fling,

On Nature's ear inanimate !

It cannot be expected of us, that we should review severally all these poems. From most of them indeed we find it as vain an endeavour to extract a meaning as from the stanza we have quoted. There is cification may be found in Gulliver's voyage made by the patent method of which a spesome reason to suppose that they were all to Laputa. Can any man in his senses doubt, for instance, that the following words were put into their relative situations by There's a crystalline cove hid in the deep-bosomed machinery?

hills,

Where the perch and mullet rove, and chime the
And dandelions blush around, and daffodils perfume
flashing rills,
The air, and carpet o'er the ground, and love the
quiet gloom.

** * **

There in the linden groves of peace, and where When the notes of woe shall cease, I'd lay my bananas spread,

weary head,

dome,

Or rove along the pebbled shore, and rear a pearly
Where fiery billows never roar, and vestal virgins

come.

Lest however it should be thought, that we have selected stanzas which are made

obscure by being disjoined from the context, to the common sense of our readers, if in we will extract a whole piece, and appeal the whole of it there be more meaning than in the line of Otway, which Coleridge

quotes to illustrate his notion of delirium : "Lutes, lobsters, seas of milk, and ships of amber."

SCALDIC SONG.

The eagle plumes her noble crest,
And seeks the dales of upper air,
And proudly swells her fearless breast

The fire-crested billow breaks loud o'er the Haal.
When gazing on the red sun there;
And hushed is the runic wild, revelling laugh,
The storm in blackness shrouds the sky,
Save when liquid fires illume
The murky welkin-and they fly

In forked flashes through the gloom.
The garland is streaming from the mast,
The loose shrouds are shiv'ring, and furies a
dancing.

And frantic sybils on the blast,

Their baleful eyes in wrath are glancing.

O'er the wild and warring billows,
The frail bark by ice-bergs is rapidly driven,-
Sinks the wreck-and gelid pillows

Percy's Reliques; but comparing it with the others around, we are compelled to believe that Mr Fairfield wrote it in sad and sober earnest; mistaking rant for sublimity. We have not space for the whole, but assure our readers that it is all alike.

Drury's Dirge. We must necessarily be short in our notice of the "Sisters of St Clara." Such of of a Small Colleger," of which we gave a our readers as have read the " Blank Book notice a few numbers back, may remember a story told there of two Portuguese Nuns. We did not think that the best story in the book, nor the best told. Such as it is, how-run thus, ever, Mr Fairfield has thought fit to do it into verse, by which process, it is absolutely undone. The story is a short one; two nuns attempted to elope from a conventone succeeded and the other was taken. One was killed for the breach of her vow, and her lover kills himself on the occasion; and the other dies of grief because her lover would not marry her, and he dies of grief because she died.