many cautions as to the construction and progression of the harmony. In the more intricate kinds of composition, each has its own full complement of laws and restrictions. Not very long since, a justly celebrated Logierian deplored the "lamentable facilities" with which our modern composers inundated the country with volumes of trash, and at the same time, consoled himself and the public with the assurance that the new system would produce juvenile Handels, Haydns, Mozarts, and Beethovens in abundance. Now, if he will only study the treatise before us, which we know he is perfectly qualified to do, we strongly sus pect that his regret of these "facilities" will almost entirely disappear, whilst his confidence in the sublime effect of the chiroplast will be somewhat abated.

But why, it may with much propriety be asked, if we condemn these rules as unnecessary, do we so strongly recommend the study of them? Simply, we reply, because we are convinced that nothing will give the student so exact an idea of the latitudes to which he may go, as the knowledge of the restrictions imposed upon him by the older masters: and that nothing will make him so intimately acquainted with the different intervals and chords, and the peculiar nature of each, and consequently, give so much fluency and correctness to his writing in any number of parts, as the thorough understanding of these rules, and a laborious application to the exercises pointed out as exemplifications of them.

ART. IV.-Italy and its Inhabitants. An Account of a Tour in that Country in 1816 and 1817. Containing a View of Characters, Manners, Customs, Governments, Antiquities, &c. With some Remarks on the Origin of Rome, and of the Latin Language. By JAMES AUG. GALIFFE, of Geneva. 2 vols. 8vo. Pp. 928. London, John Murray.

WE in some degree charge ourselves with injustice, in having allowed this amusing book to lie nearly six months on our table unopened. We had matter before us which we thought more important, than yet another tour in Italy could, as we thought, possibly be. On the expected topics of manners, scenery, antiquities, paintings, and statues, we deemed it hopeless to write one word; and rarely does the well-worn course, from the Simplon to Pæstum, furnish actual incident, arising out of the tra veller's personal experience, of sufficient interest to warrant its

publication. On perusing Mr. Galiffe's work, we were agreeably surprised with his qualifications as a lively and instructive tourist. Much, it is true, we would say one half, of his two goodly volumes, is very trite matter. It is, nevertheless, so well detailed, as to form, perhaps, a more eligible account of Italy than most of the more recently published, if the question were, which shall a person, who has read nothing on the subject, choose? There is in it, likewise, a great deal of amusing adventure, narrated in a lively manner; and where there is very great minuteness, the purpose is avowedly to instruct and guide future travellers. But we were most attracted by some curious antiquarian speculations, in which there is much ingenuity, with a considerable share of good sense; and which, even to the general reader, as well as the virtuoso, gives rise to a very fascinating train of reflections. We were most of all surprised to find Mr. Galiffe, a foreigner, so much master of our language as to write in it correctly, and even elegantly, although, as a Genevese, not the first example of the same accomplishment; and yet more pleased to find him actuated by what, in the best sense of the word, we call British sentiments-by a kindly disposition, almost an homage, to our countrymen, with all their faults, which they are much indebted to him for pointing out,—and by a degree of good sense, and good feeling in every thing, which completely succeeded in gaining our esteem and confidence. Having introduced our traveller to the reader, we shall, if the latter be inclined, set out with him in his excursion over Italy, only somewhat more rapidly than he has either actually travelled or written. Mr. Galiffe enters Italy by the Simplon.

"It is time that I should say something of the famous road over the Simplon; though, indeed, so much has already been said respecting it, that I might perhaps be excused for passing it over in silence; the rather as I unfortunately do not participate in the extraordinary enthusiasm, which the very mention of it generally excites. I have met with numbers of sensible men who could not speak of this work of Buonaparte but in terms of the most extravagant admiration. And I have even found persons who had not seen the work, ready to quarrel with any one who could suppose that there was any undertaking in the world to be compared with it. It is, I am sorry to say, almost exclusively amongst the English that I have met with these enthusiastic admirers of every thing which is in any way connected with the name of that tyrant, to whose overthrow they have so mainly contributed. I really believe that many of them imagine that they are thus exhibiting only a generous liberality; but to me it appears the most unaccountable of all foibles. To raise an humbled but generous foe, is, indeed, a noble act; but to profess extravagant admiration for a cruel despot, the avowed enemy of freedom and of every liberal sentiment, is unworthy of the inhabitants of a free country.”

This last remark, so well bestowed on the fatiguing coxcombs to whom it applies, has the more point, that it comes

from a foreigner. We find nothing worth stopping for, till we come to the theatre of La Scala at Milan, considered the most splendid in the world. It is twice as large as the largest of the London theatres, with five tiers of boxes, and a gallery over them. It is not decorated ostentatiously, but exceedingly tastefully, and has about it an air of grandeur altogether astonishing. Thinking, as we do, the London theatres greatly too large, for the drama at least, the theatre of Milan, except for the music and spectacle of an opera, must be utterly useless for any other end than to be looked at. The author cautions travellers against employing a laquais de place, whose practice it is to limit a traveller's sights to those from which he, by a secret arrangement, derives profit. Mr. Galiffe trusted to the printed guides, and hired some ordinary lad merely to point out the places. We may seem to give a meagre account of Milan and other places; for we omit much, which, had it never been published before, is essential to a competent knowledge of the places described. For this we must refer to the work.

At Brescia our author is quite delighted with the civility of the inhabitants of all ages; and captivated, and no wonder, by the beauty of the females.

"It is impossible to imagine a more beautiful race than the population of this city and its neighbourhood. Raphael's most sublime conceptions of ideal beauty fall short of the reality of the living specimens which engaged our highest admiration in Brescia, and on the road to Verona. I am persuaded that I saw a greater number of handsome women in that space, than I had seen in all Europe besides; and many of them were more exquisitely beautiful than any individuals I had ever met with. What peculiarly characterizes their style of beauty, is the commanding nobleness of their countenance, mingled with a degree of mildness and candour. Our postboys could not conceive why we made them stop so frequently, or why we chose to be driven so slowly. The more I think upon it, the greater is my surprise, that the art of painting should have fallen so low since the days of Raphael and his contemporaries. I had always imagined that the sublimest soarings of the genius of imitation were inspired by the presence of living beauty: but the young virgins, whom Raphael took for models of the Mother of our Saviour, cannot have been nearly so handsome as several of those who attracted our admiration (I had almost said our adoration) in the north of Lombardy. Possibly the living generation may be handsomer than any of its predecessors; and may yet excite the genius of painting to a higher degree of excellence than has hitherto been known.”

At Verona he admires the magnificent, and almost entire, Roman Amphitheatre; and visits the tomb of Juliet. He is astonished with the magnificence of the deserted palaces of Vicenza, the boast of Palladio, One half of the population of this once superb town, is in a state nearly of mendicity. Indeed, a traveller might predicate the same thing of every town in Italy. It is true, Mr. Galiffe visited the country in a year of scarcity, when multitudes died of actual starvation, on the

roads and in the streets; but, even in the best seasons, such a scanty share of common necessaries falls to the lot of the Italian populace, as exalts into luxury the regular, abundant, and wholesome food, comfortable and respectable clothing and lodging, of the labouring classes in this country.

We advance with the author to Padua, which boasts antiquity 500 years beyond that of Rome itself. The citizens firmly believe that they shew the tomb of the Trojan Antenor. "They are not bound to know," says the author, "that "this tomb is a monument of a prince of the middle ages, "and that the tombs of the Phrygian heroes were mounds "of earth raised over their mortal remains; we may well "dispense with learning, in a people who love their country." We recollect Dr. Moore's statement of the ingenious rationale of the Paduans on this important subject; namely a Latin inscription avers the fact, that the tomb does contain the remains of Antenor the Trojan; and any occurring objector is defied to prove that it does not. The Paduans, nevertheless, are too good judges of evidence, to take Mr. Galiffe's mere word, that the relics are those of a prince of the middle ages; even were he to retort the challenge upon his opponents, to prove the negative. Of his mounds of earth, they certainly would get quit, by urging that Antenor, after coming so far, and founding a nation, would never have been insulted with the unceremonious sepulture which he might have had at home. Dr. Moore was wise to leave the point undetermined.

Our radicals would, in the Venetian state, be gratified by the spectacle of the poverty of the hated higher classes, but they would see its ghastly accompaniment,-the starvation of the lower. One nobleman was the author's guide, for hire, to the church of Fuenza. In the general doom of the famed cities of Italy, Ferrara is fast going to decay, and so is Bologna.

The author avers, that he is no connoisseur of paintings; but of his lively manner of describing the poetry or feeling of a picture, we give the following specimen.

"The Massacre of the Innocents, by the same (Guido,) I have reserved to the last, because I wish to give a slight idea of its composition to those who have not seen it. The others that I have enumerated are master-pieces of painting; this is a master-piece of poetical feeling: and I can never forget the impression which it made upon me.

"The piece is by no means crowded with figures, as is usually the case in representations of the same scene. There are only six mothers, six children, and two soldiers. The first woman is in the act of flying; but one of the soldiers has seized hold of her garment. The second implores compassion for her child, which seems to shriek. The third, pale and dishevelled, is carrying off her infant, who is dying. The fourth is fallen, and struggling to rise. The fifth and principal figure, is kneeling before two murdered innocents, evidently her twin children. Never did painting offer so beautiful, so melancholy, so deeply moving an object. The poor wretch thinks no

more of flight, of cries, of prayers: to her danger no longer exists; for there they lie, the pride of her heart, the celestial little creatures who so lately were smiling at each other on her bosom. All is over for her in this world; horror and death have done their worst! Her silent despair chills the heart. Her beautiful eyes look up to heaven; but pious resignation appears to stiffe the reproach, which her maternal feelings half suggested. Her grief is speechless and tearless; and it forms a striking contrast with the maddening terror of the other women. Their features are handsome but convulsed, particularly the features of those who still defend their children. In the countenance of the mother who carries off her dying babe, the expression is quite of a different kind. She has seen the blow, but she has not yet observed the deathly paleness cast over her infant's features. She knows he is wounded, but she feels that he still breathes; and she runs away with him in her arms. I never before was made so fully sensible of the power of painting; and I prefer this wonderful piece to any that I have seen by more renowned masters. They may have surpassed the noble and feeling Guido in correctness and colouring; but none has equalled him in the expression of deep, yet religious, grief.—In all these female faces, except those of the two principal figures, (the third and fifth) there is a remarkable smallness of the under lip, which some critics might perhaps find fault with; but Gaido had doubtless a reason for making it so. Is it that despair has the effect of contracting this feature? It is probable that Guido thought so; for he has not given this peculiarity in the face of the mother of the twins, in which no terror is expressed; and it is but slightly perceptible in her who carries off her dying babe. However this be, let no man imagine that he has seen the finest paintings in the world, if he has not seen this and its noble compan

ions."

Of the dreary approach to Rome, we certainly never read a better description than the following;

"The next day, Saturday, the 30th November, we set off from Nepi, at half-past six in the morning, and were highly favoured by a beautiful day.

There was nothing to induce us to loiter on this part of the road; for the nearer the traveller approaches to Rome the more dreary he finds the scene around him, till at length he enters a perfect desert, without towns, villages, hamlets, palaces, houses, huts, or even ruins; scarcely does he meet with a single peasant, or a solitary herdsman. The only things which seem to indicate the vicinity of a large city are the pavement, which begins at Monterosi, about sixteen miles from Rome, and half a dozen dried legs and arms of highwaymen, stuck in terrorem upon posts by the road-side. These, and a few carcases of horses, a hawk now and then, and clouds of carrion crows, were the only objects that we saw until we reached the suburbs, which we entered about noon. But as soon as we had passed the Porta del Popola, a very different scene presented itself to us,-that of a very large, beautiful, populous, and cheerful city. It is true that much the greater number of the persons we met in the streets were foreigners; but this distinction has nothing to do with the general effect and the first impression, of which I am now speaking. I had expected to find in Modern Rome a gloomy, deserted city, where it was not easy to move without stumbling over ruins; and where we should meet ghastly figures, more like phantoms than living creatures, wandering amongst ruined temples and deserted palaces. We were agreeably surprised to see large and clean streets, ornamented with handsome palaces and churches, and filled with crowds of good-looking, well-dressed, lively people; in short, a greater appearance of life and gaiety than even at

Paris."

The author's criticisms on St. Peter's are just; and we do