niques de France inform us, that Thibaut, at the age of thirty-five, having conceived a violent and hopeless passion for Queen Blanche, was advised to apply himself to

rus by a whole army when going out to attack an enemy; which custom they probably derived from their German ancestors. Charlemagne was particularly fond of these warlike songs, and like our own Alfred, collected them and learned them by heart. It was customary at that time to have a Herald Minstrel, chosen on account of the strength and clearness of his voice, which not only qualified him for animating the soldiers to battle, but also for making proclamations of the public ceremonies; he was also accustomed to sing metrical songs at public festivals. The famous song of Roland, continued in favour among the French soldiers as late as the battle of Poictiers, in the time of John of France.

In the time of Philip de Valois, between the years 1228 and 1250, the French had in use more than thirty musical instruments; the form of the greatest part of which is unknown to the present age. Among them, however, are the following wellknown instruments of modern times-flutes, harps, hautbois, bassoons, trumpets, small kettle-drums carried by a boy and beaten by a man, cymbals, tambour de basque, two long speaking trumpets, two large handbells, guitars, bagpipes of various kinds, a dulcimer, a vielle (or as it is vulgarly called a hurdy-gurdy), and regals, or what we call portable organs.

In regard to the French vocal music, the poets made a particular line of an old song the refrain, or burthen to the new. The songs of Thibaut, King of Navarre, are placed at the head of those that have been preserved in the French language, as those of Guillaume IX. Duke of Aquitaine, are

duced the most beautiful songs and melodies ever heard. It is the opinion of the French antiquaries, that the tunes of the ancient MSS. of the songs of this Prince were originally set by himself.

The fourteenth century seems the era when music in parts, moving in different melodies, came first in favour. In the preceding age we can find no music of more than two parts, in counterpoint of note against note.

From the close connexion of the arts to each other, we cannot trace the progressive improvement of music in Italy, without first speaking of its language. Its sweetness and facility of utterance render it certainly more favourable to singing than any other language. The sweet eloquence of the Tuscan dialect renders it superior to all others for expressing words set to music; and the lyric verses of Italy were long known to be superior to every other kind of poetry.

Though the French wrote verses in their own dialect much sooner than the Italians, yet their language was brought to no perfection till the close of the century before last, but the writings of the Italians even of the fourteenth century, are regarded as perfect models, both as to diction and construction: and, indeed, in that century all the nations of Europe began to cultivate the art of poetry; but none were so sweet and tasteful on this head as the Italians. In the History of Malaspina we find mentioned a chorus of women singing through the streets, accompanied with cymbals, drums, flutes, viols, &c. in the year 1208, when Prince Conrad was marching against Charles 1. King of Sicily. And at the same time it was customary among the Lombards to have epithalamiums sung at their weddings. When the family of Gonzaga reigned at Mantua, in the year 1940, the different princes and nobles of Italy presented the Gonzaghi with a variety of gorgeous vestments, which were afterwards distributed amongst the musicians and buffoons. An old Italian poet informs us, in the following lines:

Tutte le robe sopra nominate
Furon in tutto trent' otta e trescento,
A buffone a sonatori donate!

"And all those costly robes of state,
"In all three hundred thirty-eight,
"To fiddlers and buffoons were given!"

The Italians were the inventors of the madrigal, the etymology of which term has been much disputed; but there is little doubt of its having first been used in religious poems, addressed to the Blessed Virgin;-alla madre; whence came the word madriale and madrigale, being afterwards applied to short poems of love and gallantry both by the French and Italians, the original import has been forgotten. The most ancient melodies in Italy were all from a collection of spiritual songs.

It was not till near the time of Petrarch that poetry seemed to have recovered its ancient lustre. A peculiar kind of vocal music was prevalent in his time, but, unfortunately, none of the original melodies to which his exquisite sonnets were set, have come down to the present period.

5

Every nation in Europe has produced good poetry before it could boast of being set to such music as constituted good melody.

In an account of Petrarch's coronation we read of two choirs of music, one vocal the other instrumental, employed in the procession, which sang and played by turns in sweet harmony. This certainly implies a progress in figurative counterpoint, and singing and playing in concert. Even in 1360, one of the Chronicles of Frankfort observes, that music had " a figurative kind of composition unknown before."

Boccacio survived Petrarch but two years. His Decamerone has always been regarded as a faithful delineation of the manners and customs of Italy in his time. Though, like our historical romances, it is composed of fable and real history, yet it is a very probable work of imagination. Truth is never violated by too high a colouring, and the music of the Florentines is well treated of. We may gather from him that besides carols and ballads, the singing of which marked the steps of a dance, there were in his time songs without dances, and tunes without sougs.

The two chief instruments mentioned in the Decamerone, which were played on by ladies and gentlemen, were the lute and viol; on which latter instrument ladies too were often wont to perform. When company wanted to dance merely to music that was instrumental, a servant was called in to perform on the bagpipe.

(To be continued.)

MRS. DELANEY.

At the age of seventy-five this prodigy of female genius invented an art which she brought to that perfection which, to use the words of the late celebrated Miss Seward, " makes imitation hopeless." Ten immense folios were enriched by her hand with an hundred flowering plants, representing in cut paper, which was previously dyed in various colours, the finest flowers of our own climate, and, indeed, of every other, from the best specimens that the field, the garden, the green-house, and conservatory could furnish; these were all finished with that truth and brilliancy of

colouring which might shame the needle or the pencil's skill. The moss, the films, the farina, every part the most minute was represented with the most astonishing precision, delicacy, and fidelity. Mrs. Delaney had ever been a fine painter; and versed in the arts of chemistry, she dyed all the papers herself from whence she formed this her mimic creation: her writing-paper her sole material, her scissors her only instrument. The paper, as we said before, was completely shaded by herself with every various tint, and never received any additional touches after the flower was once cat out; neither did she make any drawing: the pattern, or rather the original specimen, lay before her, and she cut from the eye. The floating grace of the stalks was wonderful, the flowers, leaves, and buds most elegantly and exquisitely disposed: they possessed a fine relief produced by light and shade, and their rich and natural appearance was far beyond what the pencil could ever hope to produce. For every reason this extraordinary feinale deserves to be placed amongst the illustrious; and we address this authentic anecdote in a particular manner to our more mature female readers. It is a fault too much practised by both sexes to indulge in list- | lessness and a kind of "hopeless langour," at the decline of life. Our energies and talents were given us to persevere in their exercise to the end. How many moments of ennui would be spared when the bright season of youth is at an end, if women would render their age interesting and amiable by employing themselves in those amusements with which elegant accomplishments are so replete. What a lesson for exertion of our faculties is this splendid invention at the advanced age of seventy

five!

MRS. BENNET.

THIS lady, who lived to a very great age, deserves a place here for her inestimable literary talents, and also for her having been for many years the intimate companion and cherished friend of the matchless Richardson, the author of Clarissa and Grandison; and whose friendship for this amiable woman, of long standing, ceased not till his death. Her poetry had all the neatness, humour, and gaiety of Swift; and her wit and vivacity rendered her society and conversation a perpetual treat. The following anecdote serves to shew that this sprightliness attended her through the extreme of old age, almost to her dying hour. On her seventieth birth-day, being very ill with the erypsipilas, or as it is commonly called, Saint Anthony's fire, she wrote a most arch, beautiful little poem, reproaching the Saint for his very bad taste in intriguing with an old woman. Her death happened in 1793, when full of years and honour she quitted this world without either mental or bodily pain. Her letters to her illustrious correspondents were, to the very last, replete with spirit and elo

quence.

STRIKING INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF THE ABBE LA CAILLE, THE ASTRONOMER.

when he discovered in a boy of ten years of age, a passion for contemplating the stars at night, he soon decided that the seal of nature had impressed itself on the genius of that child; and relieving the parent of his (to him) useless son, and the son from the unaspiring father, he assisted La

pletely justified the prediction.

CURIOUS PARTICULARS OF DR. JOHNSON'S

MARRIAGE.

was the real cause of detaining him from home. As the father had no notion of astronomy, he flogged the boy very severely. The youth was found weeping in the street by a man of science, who,

MRS. JOHNSON had a very red face and very indifferent features; and her manners in advanced life, for her children were all grown up when Johnson first saw her, had

disgusting affectation. The rustic prettiness, and artless manners of her daughter Lucy, had won Johnson's youthful heart when she was on a visit at the Reverend John Hunter's, at Litchfield, in Johnson's