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music, by which we mean the generation and propagation of sounds, is distin&t from the mathematical part, or the application of numbers, to express the proportion of intervals, and both are unnecessary to the art of composition and performance.- -A man may be an excellent composer and performer, and yet totally ignorant of the pulses of the air, or in what proportion they move: he is not hindered from hearing the effect of musical intervals, because he is ignorant of their

ratios ;

1

· For all a rhetorician's rules

Teach nothing but to name his tools.' We cannot agree with the author; when he says, that har. mony is rather the parent than the offspring of melody. All composers know, thai it is the tune which is firit suggested, and they add the bass afterwards. Nay, there are many tunes that never had a bass, until several years after their invention ; which could not have been the case, had they depended on harmony for their existence.

In the treatise itself, Mr. Keeble has given a very just account of the ancient system, as delivered in the authors collected by Meibomius, with the ratios of intervals, discovered by different mathematicians ; but though we do not find any thing new in his application of them, nor what can be of the least service to a modern, which was promised in the Introduction, we recommend this book to those who wish to have some knowlege of what the Greek writers have said on the subject. We mult premise only, that the passages quoted from them, may frequently be understood in many different ways, and fometimes are capable of any meaning an interpreter may chuse to put on them, which is nearly the same as having no meaning at all. We shall select the conclusion of the First Part as a specimen, because it is a short analyfis of the whole, by the author himself.

• I have now gone through the seven parts into which the ancienis divided the Harmonica. I have given each part a musical construction, by which their mutual relation and agreement have been explained, and reconciled to the laws of harnony, beginning with the first idea or definition of a musical found, and procceding to the knowlege of intervals, or the distance to be observed between one found and another in the formation of genders, fyllems, tones, or modes; from which we have been able to form and regulace the several scales, and discover the relation which every found in a scale has to its principal or fundamental sound; likewise how any given scale, taken as a principal one, is connected with others, by which,

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of the hemitones, the confonant and dissonant mutations are regulated ; the number also of fharp and flat dieses necessary to perfect every scale, has been collected and disposed in a para ticular order, proper for the discovery of the genders, as well as the spiss and all other intervals, which can be wanted in the moft elaborate compositions.

• I was induced to, and encouraged in, this extensive and arduous talk, by some discoveries which appeared to be of the greatest importance towards the undertaking and explaining of a theory, which had for many ages been only a subject of dis. pute; neither party being able to determine any thing conclu. five in support of their different opinions, either for, or against, the harmonic principles of the Grecian doctrine. Nor could I have flattered myself with better fuccess, had not the inversion of the first diagram offered something the most interesting and agreeable to my wishes. To this succeeded the order of placing the seven species of diapasoo in each diagram, which encouraged me yet more to proceed ; but when the tetrachords, in their various positions, could not be formed without the marp and flat dieses, and the conjunction and disjunction could not be explained without the application of the harmonic prin ciples, I remained no longer in doubt, but was fully convinced that without a perfect knowlege of harmony, it must have been impoflible to have formed a theory fo expressive and curious as the Grecian in all its parts; nor can it be understood, unless explained by the fame laws by which it was originally formed.'

That Ms. Keeble '. may give fome fatisfaction to those who object to all theories not demonstrated by numbers and sup. ported by the ratio,' he has determined to try how far the power of numbers will carry him 'in a theory of harmonics, agreeably to the Pythagorean doctrine, which will be the fub. ject of the Second Part of this work.'

I 2mo.

T'ales of the Castle: or, Stories of Instruction and Delight. Being

Les Veillées du Chateau. Written in French by Madame la Comtefe de Genlis. Translated into English by Thomas Holcroft. 5 Volumes. 155. in Boards.

Robinson, IF F madame de Genlis is not always suficiently cautious; if

the accidental occurrence of an improper action, though fanctified by custom, destroys that disguit which it ought to excite, and we perceive the fault without the antidote, we should acknowlege, that Ne very seldom offends the nicest mo. rality; and her works commonly abound with the purest lefsons. The refined sensibility to error, which her general instructions muft neceffarily produce, will make her pupils critics on her felf, and raise them into judges, even while

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that her stories are adapted with judgment, and wound up with exquisite art; with art the more excellent, because unperceived. She is mistress of the utmost recesses of the human heart, and reaches it by winding paffages, to some imperceptible, and by others with difficulty explored. While The instructs her children in the most refined morality, and awakens in them the most delicate sensibility, both to what is proper and beautiful, the amends the judgment and sharpens the perception. The acquisitions seem to be their own; and the young pupils seize with avidity, seemingly as the fruits of their own labour, truths to which the mother has led them, and which she has cleared from the surrounding obstructions. If this recommendation may seem too warm, the best apology is, that it is written from the heart, though with the fullest approbation from the judgment. When we are much pleased, we may readily be induced to exaggerate ; but those who feel the bias will be most careful to guard against its effects,

The work is intended for children of ten or twelve years of age, according to their improvements or capacities. Perhaps, in this climate, we may extend the period farther ; but it will be an amusing instructive companion for persons in very different circumstances: few have received an education fo exact but fome noxious weeds will have appeared, which a culture of this kind is well calculated to deftroy. It is a just remark of the author, (we translate from her preface, which Mr. Holcroft has not preserved, because it is not generally interesting,) that, “ before a child can receive new or refined ideas, he must be taught numerous common-place ones, which every person can teach, and no one should write. These commonplaces are more valuable than the most ingenious thoughts : they are generally known, only because they are just and striking; as good verses pass into proverbs, and moral sentiments, remarkable for their juftness, are retained, repeated, and reach even to the common people, who render them sacred by adopting them.' This work contains no sentiments of this kind : they are rather new and refined, not subtile fpeculations of little utility, but reflections which regulate the heart, correct the taste, and tend to direct the conduct. These are exemplified by suitable histories, properly adapted to the age of the hearers, or to the errors, which are the objects of the governess.

The plan of the work is simple and unadorned. An officer, ordered to join his regiment, during a war, leaves an amiable wife and three children. The mother retires from Paris to

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the chateau, and, with the son's tutor, fuperintends the education of the boy and two girls. The winter evenings are enlivened by stories, sometimes selected from history, but more frequently invented for a particular purpose, to illustrate or enforce the subjects of their conversations. The marquis returns, and brings the family to Paris, where the instructions and examples relate rather to the formation of a juft taste, by proper observations on works of art,

It is not easy to give a specimen of the histories, for those which are conducted with the greatest address, are too extenfive for our limits. We shall therefore insert a short conversation, that the reader may judge of the manner of our author.

* Madame de Clémire remained two days longer on her visit to M. de la Paliniére, and then returned to Champeery; the abbé not having been satisfied with Cæsar, in the morning, would not permit him to be present at the evening's amusement. Cæfar, being greatly vexed at this punishment, became a little fullen, and went to bed without making an apology to the abbé; he wished him a good night!

• He had been in bed about half an hour, when madame de Clémire entered his chamber. Are you asleep my son, said Me, in a low voice?

• Not yet, mamma, answered Cæsar, in a forrowful tone.

• I should be surprised if you were, reptied madame de Clé. mire ; for if it be true that you have a good heart, of which I cannot doubt, it is impoffible you should pass a peaceful night. What! my son ; have you laid your head upon your pillow with fullenness and rancour in your bofom, against a man you ought to love? Have you permitted him to leave your chamber, without an endeavour to be reconciled to him, and left him thus for twelve hours ? Oh Cæsar!-Liften, my child, to an anecdote I read this morning.

'The duke of Burgundy, father to the late king, was one day angry with one of his valets de chambre; but as soon as he was in bed, he said to the fame man who lay in his room, “ Pray forgive what I said to you this evening, that I may go to sleep." Judge, my son, if he had been capable of going to bed without being reconciled to his governor, and yet this young prince was then but seven years old, you are almost ten,

• I assure you, mamma, I could not go to sleep thus ; permit me to rise and ask M. Frémont's pardon.

• Instantly! come, my son.

• So saying, madame de Clémire gave a robe de chambre to Cæsar, which he haftily flipt on, and, conducted by his mother, went to M. Frémont's apartment; he knocked gently at the door, and M. Frémont, who had already put on his nightcap, seemed much surprised at the sight of Cæfar; the latter advanced, and with his eyes fwimming in tears, made the most humble and affectionate excuses. When he had finished speaks ing the abbé inftead of anfweri... him turnell coolly towarde

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madame de Clémire, and said, “ You are very good, madame, and since it is your desire, I will endeavour to forgive what is past.”. Cæfar leemed astonished, that the abbé had not ad, dressed himself to him; the abbé added, as to you, sir, I have no answer to make : it is to your mamma alone I am indebted for this visit and this apology.

• 1 affure you, dear M. Frémont, mamma did not bid me get up

and come here. * But, fir, had you been at present in my chamber, if ma. dame, your mother, had not made you sensible of the cruelty

behaviour to me? (Cesar here cast his eyes upon the ground, and began to weep.) Be certain, fir, continued the abbé, if, of your own proper motion, without being either counselled or excited, you had come to me, Þe certain, I say, I should have received you with friendship; though you would Still have been guilty of a very great error, that of pernitting me to leave your room, without testifying regret for your fault; I therefore repeat, fir, out of respect to your excellent mamma, i Mall willingly pardon you ; that is to say, I shall not inflict any punishment on you for the sullenness you have discovered.

Well, fir, faia Cæfar, then I will in die one on myself; I give you my word of honour to deprive myself, during a fort, night, of attending our evening itories, which is the greatest sacrifice I can make; but, dear fir, do not treat me with this severe coolness, and I shall then support my punishment with çourage;

As he spoke thus, the abbé, with an affectionate air, held out his arms, into which Cæsar leapt, weeping for joy that he had obtained his pardon ; and more especially, that he had performed an action which had reconciled him to himself,

You see, my son, said madame de Clémire, how much it costs us when we defer to make reparation for our errors ; this is to aggravate them, and nothing but extraordinary actions, and painful facrifices, can then obtain forgiveness. Had you, in going to rest, made a proper apology to M. Frémont, you would have been pardoned, and por for a fortnight deprived of your greatest pleasure.'

The faults of madame de Genlis, in this work, are, we think, fewer than those which occur in Adelaide and Theodore, reviewed in our fifty-sixth volume, page 300; and these are in general softened or omitted by the translator, who has performed his tak with great judgment and propriety. We Thall select his own account of his attempts, of which, on examining the original, we entirely approvę.

• He who {peaks of himself, muft either resolve to say little, or þe in great danger of becoming either vain or impertinent. Of the present version, therefore, let it only be observed, it was never intended to be any thing like literal; that the phrases are sometimes contracted and sometimes lengthened; that the liberty of

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