FROM THE LONDON LITERARY GAZETTE.

Elements of Vocal Science; being a Philosophical Inquiry into some of the Principles of Singing. By R. MACKENZIE BACON. 12 mo. pp. 282. 1824. Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy. THE letters which compose this volume were, with few exceptions, published in the Quarterly Musical Magazine; where they obtained so much attention, as to justify their reappearance in a collected form, instead of being spread over the space of five years in a periodical work. They do great credit to Mr. Bacon's taste and judgment; and embrace the philosophy of a delightful art, without being dry or technical. On the contrary, they are full of personal applications, and present a number of pleasant anecdotes which serve at the same time to illustrate the author's opinions, and to impart an interest to his work.

After a prefatory essay, Mr. Bacon, besides other topics, treats of the formation of an English School of singing; style and manner; church, concert, theatre, and chamber singing; tone, intonation, elocution, science, the formation of the voice, ornament, and (what is seldom met with) the intellectual cultivation necessary to a singer. Upon all these his remarks are acute and sensible; and both singers and auditors will find a great deal deserving of their consideration in almost every one of the chapters. It is not however our intention to discuss, regularly, the points urged in a production of such small compass as to be accessible to all readers;we shall merely quote some passages, and offer some rather digressive thoughts which the practice of our musical school at the present moment has suggested, and which might perhaps have been given as critiques on public performances, but for the opportunity of throwing them together thus offered to us.

Mr. Bacon, in the first place, investigates the English School: the fact is, we have no English School. Dr. Kitchiner has recently published the first part of a selection of the loyal and national songs of England, which completely proves, that though we have some fine old music, we are destitute of any distinctive character. The principal composers whose productions are familiar to the English car are foreigners; and almost all the individuals of our native artists, who have been or are popular, have finished their musical education abroad. How rarely do we hear any composition of Purcell, Croft, Blow, Green, Boyce, or Arne: how everlastingly do we hear the compositions of Haydn, Mozart, Rossini, and (now) Weber! If we had a national school, we should sometimes be able to detect it among our public entertainments. Let us, by way of illustration, cast a look back at the rise and progress (if that can be called progress which has retrograded) of oratorio in this country. Handel originally intended these grand compositions to imitate, if not to supersede, the concerto spirituale of the Continent; and after composing sixty or seventy Italian operas, with more or less

success, he determined to devote the last years of his life to these religious subjects. When his Messiah was finished, it was alone sufficient for immortality: but most of our mature readers must remember the far less distant period when the musical festivals of Lent were glorified (if we may so) not only with that sublime production, but with the Orpheus of Purcell, the Artaxerxes of Arne, · and the Creation of Haydn.

For this species of gratification, peculiar to a sacred season, and forming per se a variety in the year of music, modern improvement has introduced an incongruous and unassimilating mixture, in which the sacred and profane, the sublime and the ludicrous, are jumbled together in the most inconsistent and offensive manner. We hear "Glory to God," in juxtaposition with Il Fanatico; and all that can be holy and impressive in song is rendered ridiculous by contiguity with buffo arias and mock bravuras. We have no objection, if the taste of the times be so perverted, to diversify the oratorio by graceful and natural compositions, for even in Handel's day there were elegant entractes; but what we decidedly complain of is the interpolation of such things as those with which Ambrogetti, Ronzi de Begnis and his wife, and perhaps others, entertained the audiences of Passion and Easter weeks during late

seasons.

Having fallen off in the highest style, we have little to compensate us in the lowest, for Mr. Bacon truly remarks—

"English music can scarcely be said to have any comic style. The Italian Buffo, besides being a comedian, is a sound musician; he must possess considerable knowledge and facility; we have scarcely any music of the kind that deserves a comment. Our opera of Tom Thumb is a ludicrous exception enough. The most beautiful airs are adapted to the vilest words. Hasse's famous song • Pallido il sole, which Farinelli sung every night for ten years to Philip the Fifth of Spain, is put into the mouth of the ghost of Gaffer Thumb."

This observation brings us to the Theatre-the music of the Italian and English operas. Here, says our author

Dr. Morrell, a divine, is supposed to have selected the passages from the Scriptures, so splendidly embodied in this Oratorio. The Acis and Galatea was, we believe, translated by Gay from the Italian, and composed by Handel when at Naples. His other oratorio poets were Dryden, Milton, Congreve, Smollet, Smart, Aaron Hill, &c.

Such as "O the Pleasures of the Plains," Acis and Galatea; "The Prince unable to conceal his Pain," Alexander's Feast; "Bacchus ever fair and young;" &c. &c.

"There is (says Mr. Bacon very justly, when speaking of the still less elevated style of concert,) one point which at this time it seems particularly neces sary to insist upon. Nothing is so disgusting as coarseness or familiarity. Either of these annihilate all respect, and in nothing is a certain dignity of thought, a certain elevation of manner, and a certain restraint, so indispensably demanded as in the lighter pieces, which call forth the play of a lively imagination, like those taken from the Italian comic opera, now so highly in vogue. Non piu andrai,' 'Sei Morelli,' or 'Quel occhietto,' every instant involve a danger of sinking the performer into vulgarity and contempt"-and the performances too! 2 I

VOL. VI. NO. 33.-Museum.

"At present, good taste is in its infancy or its dotage, and, as must happen, the love of the glittering and prominent parts of the execution of singers will be preferred. The passion for agility has been nurtured, during late years, in an extraordinary manner, by the greatest talents of the passing age. Catalani (corrupting by example) and Billington and Braham were all singers of execution, and the latter, though certainly gifted with the most various and most powerful expression of any singer within remembrance, has nevertheless most unaccountably lowered the effects of his performance by an overwhelming exuberance of florid ornament. These are the persons who have formed the taste of the theatrical audienees of our day, and a generation must decay at least before their graces will be forgotten and their errors eradicated. From their example it has principally arisen, that the small critics who frequent the play-house are the most dangerous auditors a singer can have to encounter, and they are dangerous too in proportion as they are flippant and voluble. Their knowledge lies in a confused jargon of terms, which they employ in praise or condemnation, equally indiscriminate. With them, gracing is the summit of perfection.

繁

"Power, conception, and execution, (he continues) are the capital qualities in a stage singer. Every thing is heightened. The colouring must be a little above our ordinary perceptions of natural expression. The features must be all exaggerated, like the painting of the scenes; the design and execution are both softened by distance, and coarseness is mellowed into effect. The place, the character, the situations incident to the drama, and above all, the mixed nature of the audience, appear to demand a sacrifice of the severer dictates of sound taste, the abandonment of delicate finish, and the substitution of a declamatory vehemence, an impassioned elocution, a dissolving tenderness and pathos, and of attractive ornament. That singer, however, will best accommodate the conditions and the performance to each other, who can affect the audience by the least stretch of the liberty thus vouchsafed him; and we are taught by the highest authorities, that his fame will enjoy the longest existence. In the theatre, as in other places, the only limit is the sympathy of the audience; but the bounds of this sympathy are extended to the utmost possible latitude by circumstances that increase the sensibility while they weaken the judg

ment.

"I cannot for these reasons acquiesce in the allowance on the score of acting usually granted to singers, in that courtesy which exempts vocalists from the exhibition of every other requisite for the stage than the exercise of their particular talent. The effect of singing and acting are or are not mutually aiding each other throughout; and I confess I have been so thoroughly disgusted by the

*

"Sir, (said an eminent conductor to me,) it is a great advantage for a singer to be able to throw his legs and arms into a note." "

coldness, and indifference, and the obvious contempt of any endeavour to interest as an actor, in some of our most distinguished singers, that the song itself was naturally injured by the operation of this strong irresistible feeling. With this branch of the subject is connected motion of many kinds which stage singers must employ. It must not be forgotten by them, that they are subject to changes of position during their performance. They have not, like the church, orchestra, and chamber singer, the advantage of being at rest in their persons. They require therefore a greater command of the chest, which is only to be obtained by incessant practice. I know that Madame Mara could dance, and maintain, during the most agitated motion, a perfectly equable and uniform voicing, varying the degrees of loud and soft at pleasure; so strong also is the force of habit in the association between the attitudes in which we are accustomed to perform any particular function, that its effects should always be held in remembrance. Any awkward gesture must be therefore peculiarly disadvantageous to a stage singer; and I would again remind them, that action is by no means inconsequential to the effects of their vocal excellence, how great soever it may be."

*

For the Italian stage the recent visit of Rossini did nothing. His intercourse with England was unlucky for his fame, and unfortunate for our musical improvement. What circumstances led to this failure we shall not inquire; suffice it to say, that we had before, in his Tancredi alone, a thousand times more to admire and learn from, than the Maestro supplied when amongst us. The melody of "Tu che accendi questo core," (and of "Tu che i miseri" also,) allows room for all that expression which the soul loves in song; while both arias are finely relieved by brilliancy and point. Again, the Perche turbar is mellifluous to a degree; and the whole scena between Tancredi and Amenaide, “O quel scegliesti," surpassingly beautiful and characteristic. Sacchani composed nothing superior. But, as we have said, the talents of Rossini have not in the slightest particular tended to improve the state of music in England; and we now see him thrown into oblivion by a newer rage. The Freischütz is the only music at present known in the metropolis, the only music heard at the theatres, sung by wandering minstrels, and played by waits and barrel organs. We never pause to ingraft Italian delicacy of expression upon German grandeur and loftiness-the polish and refinement of the former upon the elementary strength of the latter; and both upon British feeling. No, it is sufficient for us that we have a fashion; no matter what or whence, genuine or spoilt by homemade alterations. Touching the last, and applying it to this very

* "In low life it is so common and so ridiculous, that it must have met every one's notice. I remember to have seen a poor shepherd, who could not continue to give evidence in a court of justice, because the Judge insisted upon his removing his hands from the situation in which he had been accustomed to place them while he was in reflection."

Freischütz, a Correspondent has favoured us with some, perhaps severe, but able remarks:

"Those (he observes) who are unacquainted with the manner in which music is treated in this country, are naturally surprised to find so great an apparent admiration for the art combined with so little discernment in the selection of our musical recreations. Our native composers interpolate and disfigure without remorse. Our operas want unity and continuity, because they are to be cut down to the narrow compass of our musical talent; they are to be suited to the whims and tastes of composers, arrangers, and performers, The stories are mostly borrowed; they are therefore to be translated, and of course disfigured, to adapt them to the prevailing taste for melo-dramatic or scenic effect. Some parts of the original music are omitted, or placed where they were never intended to be placed by the composer; songs suited to one character, are put into the mouth of another; at every step there is a hiatus, which produces a sudden, unnatural, and unmusical break in the performance. With regard to the strength of talent available for operatic performance in England, we have half a dozen first rate singers, with scarcely as many tolerable second rates; and our chorusses are almost beneath contempt. This strength or weakness (which ever you are disposed to call it) which, if taken together, would be scarcely powerful enough to give a fair representation of any one of the great works of the later musical age, is divided between the two great theatres. If to this we add an orchestra made up much like the vocal department, and consisting of a few good artists clumsily seconded by aspirants and beginners, we have a fair estimate of the whole operatic establishment of our winter theatres.

"With powers so inadequate they have lately undertaken to give to the public the most difficult, chromatic and intricate opera which has hitherto proceeded from the German school. Yet with us, this admirable and classical work scarcely rises to the level of an ordinary melo-drama fitted out with a kind of unintelligible, indistinct, and discordant music, the drift of which you in vain endeavour to catch amid the rude and jarring efforts of orchestra, singers, and chorusses. In one or two instances the performance at Covent Garden is good. The overture is too great an undertaking, but it is intelligible; the chorusses are respectably filled, and voices and orchestra are not engaged in open warfare as at the other house. Yet it is evident there is still a little ill blood between them, which after so long an intercourse as that which has already subsisted, is not likely to be eradicated. The want of musical intelligence in the public alone protects these performances from condemnation. It almost makes one tremble to ask-What would Weber say to our mode of testifying our respect for his talents? How would he feel, if condemned to listen to the performance of his opera in England? I question much whether a single wind or stringed instrument would escape the supernatural thirst for ven