tered condition, before the words which, in point of order, should lead to it, is highly animated; and those very words which, put introductorily, would be tame and prosaic, give exquisite grace and pathos to the passage: "Is this the region, this the soil, the clime? What follows the speech of Beelzebub, until the call of Satan on his Host, is description of the noblest kind, with two luxuriant similes, which may perhaps be censured by such critics as are more prone to detect what they call irregularities, than to acknowledge or perceive true beauties: "He scarce had ceas'd when the superior fiend," &c. Speeches of the dramatic cast, are in their nature more free from extraneousness than any other, and the following address of Satan's cannot be compressed : "Princes, potentates," &c. The effect of this speech upon the legions, is expressed in the most lively manner; though of twentyfive lines only twelve are essential, all the rest being simile three times varied with the boldest yet most appropriate images: 66 They heard and were abashed," &c. Should the rules which I have ventured to propose for just recitation be deemed explicit, it will be needless to urge them any further, and therefore for the present I shall conclude. EDWARD HICKEY SEYMOUR. A SIMPLE STORY. OF the following little history, the only fictitious and consequently untrue circumstance, is the name of its misguided heroine; the rest is "A Tale, alas! too true." Jane Smith being left an orphan at an early age, was tenderly brought up, and decently educated, by an uncle and aunt in the town of C......, who being childless, adopted her as their own; every domestic virtue was taught her by their precept and example. They were intimate, and much respected friends of mine; Ì feel a tear trembling in my eye as I write; for when Jane reached her seventeenth year, these worthy people, within a few weeks of each other, sunk into the grave, leaving her, and a small property they bequeathed her, to the guardianship of a friend. Previous to this, Jane had been placed with a respectable mantua-maker in the town where she resided, for instruction; with whom she continued till she was eighteen, and then by her own wish, and in compliance with the desire of some of her friends, she was placed with a fashionable dress-maker, &c. in St.....Street, London, there to remain two years for improvement; her guardian giving with her a premium of fifty guineas: very unfortunately, the house she was placed in, was one of the first order in that line; yet, alas! her improvement was retrograde, even as to her business; for at the expiration of the two years, I have great reason to believe she knew less of it than when she arrived in town; whilst her morals were but this my narrative will best explain. In about a twelvemonth after her coming to London, she had formed several acquaintances, both male and female, whose contaminating principles sapped the weak mind of Jane, whilst the dashing lady to whose care she was confided, took no pains at all to prevent whatever might be the result of her forming such connections. Jane was possessed of a good figure, and a tolerably pretty face; of course from the male sex she met with flattering attentions, and by them was she conducted to the worst of every frivolous amusement; where vice, gilding her fiend-like form with the flowery robe of pleasure, lost half of her horrors. Thus was the unsuspecting Jane led, by almost imperceptible steps, from the path of rectitude, till, at the end of the two years, instead of returning to her guardian, she went off with a young man, whom she had for some time been acquainted with, but whom she actually knew to have been married only fee weeks to an amiable young woman. My readers will without doubt be astonished at the excessive depravity of this wretch, and the strange infatuation of poor Jane; their astonishment will be natural, but the circumstance is nevertheless true. In a secluded lodging at Islington, she remained, passing as the wife of this man under a feigned name, for several months; till he became tired of Jane, whom he then most cruelly deserted, and left to her fate. This was a trying situation for so young a woman to be placed in; she was almost on the verge of madness; many, I fear, would have fled to prostitution for support, rather than have sought the protection of a guardian, whom they could not in such a case meet, but with the burning blush of shame too many, alas! have done so, under similar circumstances, but fortunately for Jane, virtue predominated, and in the bitter language of repentance she wrote to her guardian, who received her again with the tenderness of a parent; screened her crime from the malicious ear of envy, and brought back her distracted mind to gentleness and peace. When she became of age, she received her small property; and soon after an opportunity offered of her accompanying a family to America; whither she went, and where she is now comfortably married. My intention being merely to relate the truth, I have not studied my language, nor endeavoured to make this a long story, but rather " a plain unvarnished tale." Should it fall under the eye of a country parent, who is about to send a beloved daughter to London for improvement, let it make him cautious with whom he places her; and if it meets the enquiring gaze of any fair female, who is already placed out; let it be to her a caution to be wary in forming connections in so immense a metropolis as London: for although, "Vice to be hated, needs but to be seen," : still it too often happens, that she wears to an inexperienced eye, the graceful garb of virtue; the more surely to plunge her victim into deep and irremediable destruction. Should this Simple Story be perused by any careless mistress, who has the charge of female virtue given to her; I hope and trust it may awaken her to a better discharge of her duty but of its having any effect on the libertine's soul, I much despair; he is generally too deeply immerged in vice, to attend to the whisperings of remorse, or virtue, till the power to sin is no more; then will he, perhaps when it is too late, hope to extenuate by repentance the heinousness of his crimes. Awful must be the conflict of mind in such a moment; the very reflection is peculiarly solemn, and reads a "Tale of Terror" to the Soul! J. M. L. March 5, 1807. MR. CONDUCTOR, HANDEL's MESSIAH. THE Works of Handel have been always held in such universal and deserved estimation, that nothing new can be said in their commendation. The stile of his oratorios, in particular, is so suited to the taste of the English nation, that they continue to be performed year after year with, if possible, increased admiration, and heard with fresh delight. They are so perfect, so complete, and contain so excellent an adaptation of sound to sense, and each part and portion, exquisite in itself, at the same time combines so well to add to, and heighten, the grand and sublime effect of the whole, that for a long time after their author's death, it would have been considered a kind of sacrilege to have attempted any alteration in them. I am sorry that the reverence which the name of Handel ought to inspire, has not operated to prevent the introduction and partial adoption of a new method of performing the sublimest of his productions. I need hardly to add that I mean THE MESSIAH. On the judicious selection of the words of this Oratorio, and on the unrivalled excellence of the music, it is needless here to say any thing. THE MESSIAH is confessedly the first production of the first of musicians, and in fact almost the only oratorio now performed entire. On the modern patch-work method of selectionmaking I could say much, but it is foreign from my present design, which is to censure the adoption of those instrumental parts which Mozart had the want of taste and judgment to adapt to the Messiah. That Mozart should fail in his attempt is not strange, since it is not very likely that any one would succeed; besides, it is a well known fact that foreigners in general do not understand or enjoy Handel's style of composition, and that Mozart did not, is evident from an overture of his, written,' as he says, but as nobody else would say, in the style of Handel. THE MESSIAH is, more than any other, a singing Oratorio. Handel has made, throughout, the vocal parts the leading features of the piece. The attention of the hearer is not divided between the singer and the accompaniment, but is fixed solely and entirely on the In voice. That this is not always the case, is apparent from a slight inspection of his other productions. Judas Maccabeus for instance, one song has an obligato accompaniment for the violoncello, another for the oboe, a third for the trumpet, a fourth for the flute, and so on; but in the MESSIAH, one air only has an obligato accompaniment, and the reason there is sufficiently obvious. It cannot for a moment be supposed that Handel was incapable of varying the instrumental parts of his songs; his other works abundantly prove his excellent and universal knowledge of instrumental effect. Or is the Messiah in its original form tedious and monotonous ? I think no one who has ever heard it even decently performed, will answer in the affirmative. Handel felt the solemnity and the grandeur of his subject, and it was doubtless this feeling which suggested to him the impropriety of tricking out the impressive words of the Scriptures, with light and frivolous accompaniments. His whole attention throughout the piece, is directed to give such an adaptation of sound to the words, as shall convey in the most striking and forcible manner their full sense and meaning. How far he has succeeded let those judge who have heard Mara in "I know that my Redeemer," or " He shall feed his flock," Harrison in "Coinfort ye," and Meredith or Bartleman in "But who may abide,' or "The trumpet shall sound." Whether Handel has adapted his instrumental parts to his chorusses judiciously, let those determine who remember the effect produced by the drums and trumpets in the Hallelujah chorus at the Abbey, in the year 1784, an effect which can be conceived only by those who heard and felt it, but which is entirely lost by the absurd introduction of those instruments into "For unto us,' " which is rather a pleasing than a grand chorus. With respect to Mozart's accompaniments to the songs, I shall only say of them in general, that they are calculated to bewilder rather than assist the singer, and to distract, rather than to fix the attention of the audience. Really, Sir, I have not common patience, when I hear a parcel of fellows flourishing and figuring away in the midst of Handel's sublime and devotional airs, upon their flutes, their clarionets, their bassoons and their oboes, or stunning the ears of an audience with the tremendous and discordant noise of their trombones and double bassoons, which they introduce in open defiance of musical taste or even commen |