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of members of Congress, one of which related to him, and runs thus::

"D. D. BARNARD, OF NEW YORK.-Mr. Barnard is the leader of the Whig party in the House, if it can be said to have any acknowledged head. He would occupy a prominent position in any legislative body. He is a sound, logical thinker, and a hard student. He possesses a fund of information upon politics, law and general knowledge, that could only have been attained by a life of long and patient application. He belongs to a class of men who are unfortunately diminishing in every successive Congress-men of practical views, profound minds, and strong common sense, who apply themselves to the duties of Congressional life, with the view of becoming useful and beneficent statesmen. He never sacrifices sense to sound, nor seeks éclat by displays of brilliant rhetoric.

"Armed at all points with constitutional learning, he is always ready to meet the champions of nullification, or of Locofocoism, who attack the tenets of the Whig party, or seek to palliate violations of law by crude and dangerous expositions of our National Charter. His powerful speeches on the general ticket question, and his firm and unflinching opposition to the admission of the illegally elected members, will not soon be forgotten. As an interpreter of the Constitution, Mr. Barnard, in common with the Whig party, belongs to the school of Marshall, Story, Madison, Hamilton and Washington, and those who framed that instrument. He looks upon the Constitution in the liberal spirit in which it was conceived, as the fundamental law of a great nation, adequate to all the exigencies and wants that may arise in the progress of our history. With these views, he is a friend of judicious internal improvements, the protective policy, and a bank of the United States, and a sturdy opponent of the narrow views of the race of Virginia hair-splitters and abstractionists, who, for all practical purposes, reduce the Constitution to a dead letter.

"As a speaker, Mr. Barnard is clear, convincing and argumentative. He wants a lively imagination, which takes from his speeches the attractions of rhetorical ornament and illustration. He speaks in a measured and deliberate tone, and occasionally throws out a lofty sentiment which shows the depth and dignity of his

intellect. His manner is earnest, but at the same time courteous and deferential to opponents. He never gives an insult in debate, and cannot be provoked to notice the blackguardisms which every gentleman encounters in such a body as the House of Representatives.

The face of Mr. Barnard is that of a student

pale, grave and thoughtful. In stature, he is tall; he is past the meridian of life. He retires from public life with this session of Con

gress. He leaves behind him an honorable reputation, both for public and private virtue."

Mr. Barnard's connection with the Amer

ican Review, as an occasional contributor, began with its first year, and has been continued ever since. The readers of the Review can judge of him as a political writer for themselves.

There is another department in which Mr. Barnard has performed a good deal of severe labor, and which we should notice before concluding this sketch. Considering his other occupations, he has wrought up, first and last, a great deal of literary matter. For many years he has been often called upon to deliver addresses and lectures at our colleges, and before lyceums, literary societies, and mutual imThese addresses provement associations. are generally elaborate, as if produced with much study, thought and research. Of these there have been printed enough, if collected, to make two large volumes. In 1839 " An Historical Sketch of the Colony of Rensselaerwick," prepared by him, and read before the Albany Institute, was published. Shortly after this he was made an Honorary Member of the Massachusetts Historical Society. In 1835 the degree of Doctor of Laws was conferred upon him by Geneva College, and in 1845 the same honor was awarded him by Columbia College in New York.

In politics, Mr. Barnard's principles have the force and character of settled convictions, and are severely held. He is always anxious to have his party hold its principles in the same spirit. He thinks it the best policy to be honest in politics as in everything else. He has a strong aversion to demagogues and their tricks. He has never solicited office. When called to the performance of public duties, he has obeyed usually with all the signs of real reluctance, but we may believe not without such feelings of gratified pride, as a man may justly indulge when he finds himself trusted and honored by his fellow

men.

He is evidently ambitious of such honors as flow from desert, but has never sought political distinction except in some field of useful and patriotic endeavor. Those who know him best, will aver that his highest aim is the good of his country.

HOGARTH'S MUSICAL HISTORY.*

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his intimate musical friends. There should be in it no parade of technicalities, none of the concealments of quackery; yet there should be free opinions and the reasons for them, given in an artist-like manner, and as though the work were intended for artists.

THIS is the best musical history we have in English, and its republication in a cheap form cannot but have a good influence in diffusing correct ideas of music and general views of its past progress, where they are much needed. Mr. Hogarth was for many years connected with one of the London papers as musical critic; he is, There is no art that suffers so much we believe, the father-in-law of Dickens. through the timidity of its professors, as Without making any pretension to techni- music. The artists are so fearful the pubcal knowledge, he has evidently a culti-lic will not understand the true, that they vated taste; he writes in a plain, simple actually surfeit them with the false. Every style, and though he is neither so profound one knows how it is at our concerts; the nor acute a critical writer as a thorough | most distinguished performers who come education and a more sensitive perception among us dare not supply our audiences might have made him, yet he is one who with anything but show music. We will understands himself, and whose judgments, mention in particular Herz and Sivori, beif not authoritative, are always respectable. cause they were very successful here, and For those who are not so constituted that because it is time to say that there are a they are compelled to read and remember few lovers of music among us who felt everything relating to music that comes aggrieved to think that artists of their within their reach, his history must be rank should have been so little disposed very interesting;-we can fancy conditions to use their great skill for the love of truth. of being admitting such a supposition. Henri Herz might have given now and But for our own part, (we speak not then something much better than his own personally, but in the name of all unfortu- themes and variations, without doing himnate amateurs,) Mr. Hogarth's history is self any pecuniary injury. Louis Philippe, as tedious as a twice-told tale. It is all who, he said, was very fond of Sachini and very well, but the facts are as familiar as the old Italians, must have grown very the events narrated in the Old Testament; weary of his pianist unless he had the and for the criticism, it is so far off, cold, power to procure from him something and general, that though all very true, it other than his own writing, when he comis tiresome. It is to be regretted that manded him to the palace. Sivori, we some learned musician has not written a have been informed by good authority, technical work of this kind on music. A excels in solid music as much as he does series of thorough examinations of the pe- in superficial; yet all he ever gave was a culiarities of the styles of the great mas- sonata of Beethoven on one occasion, and ters, and of different times and schools, his way of doing that was not what it would be the most interesting work on would have been before a discerning audimusic that can be conceived; and it is to tory. Whenever these players did give be hoped that some one who combines the anything good, it was sure to be timidly rare qualities of artist and critic will some and ineffectively done. Once they did day devote himself to this task. The sub- advertise a classical concert; the result stance of it should be such as we may fancy was the usual Campanella and Carnival, such a man as Mendelssohn to have uttered the everlasting Last Rose of Summer, with in familiar conversations with his pupils or variations, and a few airs from Don Gio

Musical History, Biography, and Criticism, by GEORGE HOGARTH. New York: J. S. Redfield. 1848.

64

vanni. They thought that the word classic" on the posters might increase for once the potency of these enormous blisters, but they did not dare to actually exhibit the article in the Tabernacle in any appreciable quantity.

But we do not for this blame them so much as if they were all that their personal friends would have it believed; for by their thus degrading the sacred art of music to a mere trade, they, in so far, show a want of those qualities which mark the true artist, and are not to be reproved for not doing what they might have done for their art, because they set out with no end in view but to use it as a business. If Mendelssohn, in the midst of his great life, had stopped short, and made his fortune by show-playing, he would have deserved the most severe criticism that could be applied to an artist; though as a man of the world he would have acted very prudently. But when performers give themselves wholly to the trickery of the art, and for years make it their sole study, it has, of course, a retributive influence upon their minds; men cannot "go here and there and make themselves a motley to the view," and "look on truth askance and strangely," without becoming somewhat parti-colored in their minds, and incapable of looking at truth directly. They make their fortunes, and live and enjoy their well-earned wealth; but they do not grow into great artists; indeed, if they live long enough, and carry out their system purely enough, they degenerate into unmixed charlatanry. They do not deserve, therefore, to be criticised as true artists; for by their course they, in effect, disclaim the title. Or, since that phrase may seem to put it too roundly, we may admit them to be artists, but yet, in such a department of musical art that the same criticism which would apply to truly great artists must not be used towards

them.

Thus this timidity operates badly in the first instance on the public, and reacts unfavorably on the professors. The history of music shows, that wherever the true has been presented fairly, and with the same confidence that is wasted upon the false, it has always been acknowledged and felt. If the same money had been spent upon Mozart that has been lavished upon Verdi, during the past year, within

our city, how much more gratifying to every true musician would have been the result! For we cannot conceive that Verdi, though there are many odd things in his pieces, and sometimes good ones, is really loved by those who have deemed it their duty to subject themselves to the nightly fatigue of hearing him. Whereas, if Mozart had been given the same number of times, and with a force equally capable of rendering him properly-at the worst he could but have failed, as Verdi has; but he would not have failed before thrilling many hearts with his tenderness and fire, and leading them thus upward to a wider sphere of enjoyment; we should, by this time, have heard his melodies in the streets; and they would, for that is their legitimate effect, have exerted a refining influence on our social life.

The writers on music for popular reading are also much troubled by this same timidity, or want of confidence in the power of truth; and that is probably the great reason why no learned musician has ever attempted such a work as we have above suggested. The truly learned prefer, with Mozart, to "show how it ought to be done," to writing on their art; or if they write, they are afraid of being too abstruse and technical. They are too ready to distrust the capacity of the unlearned. Hence we have so very little really satisfactory and instructive musical criticism. Such works as this of Mr. Hogarth are doing much, however, we may hope, to lead the way to a more thorough mode of treating music than has been hitherto practiced by our writers. The histories of Burney and Hawkins are not books of which an English musician can feel particularly proud; the "Music of Nature" is probably the worst thing that was ever written on music in any language. The London Musical Review, published many years since, had a great many good articles, but in general it was very ponderous. The Musical Library, with its specimens of the styles of the various masters, and short critical notices of them, was excellent ; a reprint of the music given in it, with the notices, would be one of the best things that could be done for music in this country. Holmes's Life of Mozart is a very interesting work, but it would have been much better, if, in addition to the affecting

narrative of the great composer's strug gles, it had also included a learned and minutely discriminating review of his style, letting us fully into what was new in his manner, showing, by some striking examples of each, how his boldness astonished the old tie-wig composers, giving some of his characteristic peculiarities, in short, treating of him at large as artist. Mr. Holmes has done a little of this, it is true, just enough to render the reader unhappy that he has not done more. Besides these books and a very few more, we have absolutely nothing in the language on music that is worth reading, excepting grammars and scientific treatises. That sort of writing which, while it conveys knowledge, quickens the perception and communicates the love of truth, has not yet been bestowed upon this art. At least it has not been so bestowed in a permanent form accessible to our public; for undoubtedly there has been much good writing in the Musical World, &c., as well as much of the publisher's puff sort of criticism.

Handel

him as
one of her own sons.
lived in England from 1710 till 1759, and
wrote all his best works during that time.
He was as much an Englishman as Mr. As-
tor was a citizen of the United States, and
more so; for artists make themselves at
home sooner than others. Messrs. Loder,
Timm, Dr. Hodges--yea, Mr. Chubb-are
not these and many more, New Yorkers?
If being a necessary and integral part of a
city can make them so, they certainly are;
for the town cannot do without them.
Take away the Tabernacle, Apollo Saloon,
Trinity Church, the Park Theatre, and
you have no longer the same village!

But Handel was English, not only by residence, but in the tone of his ideas, and form of his expressions. The characteristic Handelian melody, so large, open, rich, flowing, was written to please English ears; it was the conforming of Handel's style to that of previous English composers, and to the peculiarities of English national melody. His genius would not have developed itself in so universal a manner had he not been, as it is said he was, a great reader of our best poets, and able to sympathize with our deepest emotions and affections. Conceive such a man living at Paris!

To this fact it is probably owing that the Germans and French still remain, to a great extent, under their ancient delusion with regard to English music. The Germans, indeed, since they became acquainted with Handel, have grown somewhat wiser; they at least must acknowledge that if England has produced no music, she has bought and paid for the best; and it was her cash that soothed the unhappy Beethoven when he was dying, oppressed with the dread of want, among his friends at Vienna. But the French are still, from the necessity of their natures, i. e. because they cannot understand the truly great in art, quite ignorant that any melodies but sea songs and "God Save the Queen" were ever written across the channel. It is quite amusing to see M. Fetis and other French writers, speaking of Handel as "the German musician who lived in England," while on the same page they will claim Cherubini, who was born and educated in Italy, for a Frenchman. It is true that such great geniuses belong to no country; but when a man goes to a foreign land in youth, makes and loses several fortunes, acquires an immortal But to us, on this side of the world, fame, spends a long life, and finally goes to questions of nationality present themselves his rest there, it would seem that his adopt-as pure abstractions; they are matters in ed country might very properly consider which the feelings of American amateurs

We are glad that Mr. Hogarth has given so full accounts of the English musicians before and since Handel; for because they are seldom heard, and not brought into notice by writing, they are generally underrated. The opportunities of hearing new music with us are not frequent, and nothing is more easy or more common than to seem to know more than others. We will confess that all we ever heard of Purcell (unless he, instead of Lock, wrote the music to Macbeth) was at a few very entertaining lectures on Shakspeare, with musical illustrations, given last winter by Mr Lynne. But that was enough to justify the high rank assigned him by all the best writers, and to make it more a matter of surprise than ever that he is not oftener heard. such musician, if our Saxon blood had produced but one, is worth a whole wilderness of Aubers and Adams.

One

Yet

cannot be very strongly enlisted. there is a satisfaction in thinking that there have been great men among our ancestors. John Thompson, whose grandfather spent his days hammering a lapstone, and grew rich by the rise of land, takes now a secret joy in studying heraldry, and ascertaining that the first of the Thompsons was slain in the wars of the Roses; and if it makes John feel more like a gentleman, or gives one a more assured confidence that there is no hereditary impediment in the way of his studying a beautiful art, perhaps it does no harm to encourage this propensity to think nobly of the blood from which we are descended. It is possible to judge well of ourselves without judging ill of others. We may reverence our English music, as we do our poetry, and still admire that of other nations, the German and the old Italian. We may have a list of great masters, taking in all history, and brought down to the latest moment, like those odd catalogues of saints one sometimes meets in the religious newspapers. It may include, for example, Jubal, Jeduthun, the chief musicians on Neginoth, Aijeleth Shahar, Shoshannim-eduth, Gittith, and Mahalath Leanoth, Apollo, St. Cecilia, Pope Gregory, Palestrina, Bach, Handel, Ole Bull, De Meyer, Jesse Hutchinson and Christy's Minstrels. The continent of America is so extensive that it is becoming in us, while we feel an honest pride in our lineage, to entertain enlarged views in matters of art as well as in those of government and

affairs.

Perhaps the great reason why so little has been written upon music that has tended to its advancement, has been that the true philosophy of it has been so imperfectly understood. The great artists are guided by intuition rather than by

principles, and the writers have written opinions ex cathedra, rather than shown the reasons of them. The true province of the art has not been defined. The uneducated have not been taught to distinguish between music which is expressive and that which is merely effective; they have been left to fall into the old error respecting imitation and description. The poetic element, which is the life of the art, has not been insisted on; and though good musicians are always ready to feel and acknowledge it, they do not think of fixing upon it as the one only test of excellence. The feeling with them is true, but in translating it into language, there is a lamentable want of clear ideas.

Thus, for example, after hearing such a beautiful piece as Fingal's Cave, which was played at the last Philharmonic rehearsal, one might gather almost as many opinions as there were auditors. All would be pleased with it; but one would pitch upon the peculiar richness of the instrumentation: another would admire the perpetual novelty and variety in the treatment of the subjects; another would be struck with the perfect imitation in the opening of the noise of a heavy sea rolling in upon a desolate shore. But all these might have existed in the piece, and it still have been poor music. It is in the poetry of it that its excellence consists-the musical ideas, which the treatment, the instrumentation, the imitation, belong to and adorn, but would be nothing without. This one principle is the simple key to the highest mysteries of the art; and though it is applied differently in different minds, as it is by different composers, yet it would save both hearers and musicians the trouble of much vague thinking, to have it always kept clearly present in their understandings. G. W. P.

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