The Euterpe, or a choice collection of Polonaises and Waltzes for the pianoforte by foreign composers, books 1 and 2. We know many amateurs whose pianoforte playing hardly extends beyond the performance of a waltz, quadrille, or any national air, and yet their execution has a delicacy and expression that might put to shame the professed lesson player. To such persons we recommend the Euterpe, it contains much that is beautiful and new. The Polonaise by Ognisky, is an exquisite bit, as well as the waltz from the Freyschutz in the first number. In the second. the quick movements of Di piacer, and Ah se puoi così lasciarmi, are ingeniously turned into waltzes, and there are others by Weber, from the Freyschutz.

Harp players will reap the same degree of pleasure from the collection of the like kind, called Amusement pour les Dames. We have already spoken of the first number; the second is, perhaps, a little inferior to it in the elegance and novelty of the selection, but it suffers only by compari

son.

Variations on a favourite German air by Joseph Mayseder. The subject is very sweet, and the variations light and brilliant, The fifth and the last (a Polonaise) are particularly happy.

Grand Variations on the national air of Rule Britannia, for the pianoforte, by Ferd. Ries. The extreme difficulty of this piece places it beyond the reach of any but first-rate players; indeed it should seem to have been intended as a vehicle for the display of the great attainments of the composer himself; for we can imagine that he alone who could conceive, could execute. For although it is not more difficult than the finest compositions of the great masters of the present day, yet each has its particular excellencies, and these are as distinct as they are peculiar. The piece, therefore, must be appreciated according to the powers it calls forth and confirms, rather than according to its merits as a composition.

Mr. Bochsa has added new variations to

Rode's air, as sung by Madame Catalani, for the harp. They are of an easy and agreeable description, but have no other qualities to entitle them to distinction.

Mr. Knapton's Arrangement of an Air from Nina, with variations, is executed with taste and elegance. The theme is well preserved; and the piece, without mak ing any pretensions to originality or dif ficulty, avoids the usual common place of airs with variations.

Mr. Kiallmark has also been more successful than usual in his second Fanfare. It has much to recommend it as a lesson for players of moderate acquirement.

Two pieces for the harp, by S. Dussek. The one, The White Cockade, with vari ations; the other, Charmant Ruisseau, are judicious, and not inelegant petites picces, calculated to give the learner neatness and rapidity of execution in the most prevailing passages of harp music, while they are not unworthy of the attention of the more advanced performer. British and foreign popular airs arranged as familiar rondos and variations for the pianoforte, by Joseph de Pinna. This work consists of twenty-four numbers, which may be pur chased either separately or in a handsome volume. It is intended for beginners, and contains airs of every character, adapted in a light and agreeable style, and to each of them is prefixed a prelude. Many of the pieces are little more than an easy arrangement of an Italian song or duet, such as Non più andrai; Giovinette che fate all' amore, &c. while others are favourite English airs from operas, catches, &c. with variations.

The arrangements are the second book of the airs in the ballet of Alfred le Grand, by Mr. Latour. The second book of se lections from II Barbiere di Seviglia, and La donna del lago, by Mr. Bochsa. Book I. of Mr. Bruguier's arrangement of airs, from Zelmira, and the first number of popular melodies, selected from English operas, and arranged in a familiar style for the pianoforte, also by Mr. Bruguier.

them or even supposing the case that he should deliberately apply them to a bad one, I could no more on that account withhold my good wishes and affection from his person -than, under any consideration of their terrific attributes, I could forbear to admire the power and the beauty of the serpent or the panther. Simply on its own account, and without further question, a great intellect challenges, as of right, not merely an interest of admiration-in common with all other exhibitions of power and magnificence-but also an interest of human love, and (where that is necessary) a spirit of tenderness to its aberrations. Mr. Ricardo however stood in no need of a partial or indulgent privilege: his privilege of intellect had a comprehensive sanction from all the purposes to which he applied it in the course of his public life: in or out of parliament, as a senator-or as an author, he was known and honoured as a public benefactor. Though connected myself by private friendship with persons of the political party hostile to his, I heard amongst them all but one language of respect for his public conduct. Those, who stood neutral to all parties, remarked that Mr. Ricardo's voice -though heard too seldom for the wishes of the enlightened part of the nation was never raised with emphasis upon any question lying out of the province in which he reigned as the paramount authority, except upon such as seemed to affect some great interest of liberty or religious toleration. And, wherever a discussion arose which transcended the level of temporary and local politics (as that for example upon corporal punishments), the weight of authority-which mere blank ability had obtained for him in the House of Commons-was sure to be thrown into that view of the case which up

*

held the dignity of human nature. Participating most cordially in these feelings of reverence for Mr. Ricardo's political character, I had besides a sorrow not unmixed with self-reproach arising out of some considerations more immediately relating to myself. In August and September 1821 I wrote The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater: and in the course of this little work I took occasion to express my obligations, as a student of Political Economy, to Mr. Ricardo's “ Principles" of that science. For this as for some other passages I was justly attacked by an able and liberal critic in the New Edinburgh Review-as for so many absurd irrelevancies: in that situation no doubt they were so; and of this, in spite of the haste in which I had written the greater part of the book, I was fully aware. However, as they said no more than was true, I was glad to take that or any occasion which I could invent for offering my public testimony of gratitude to Mr. Ricardo. The truth is-I thought that something might occur to intercept any more appropriate mode of conveying my homage to Mr. Ricardo's ear, which should else more naturally have been expressed in a direct work on Political Economy. This fear was at length realized-not in the way I had apprehended, viz. by my own death-but by Mr. Ricardo's. And now therefore I felt happy that, at whatever price of good taste, I had in some imperfect way made known my sense of his high pretensions-although unfortunately I had given him no means of judging whether my applause were of any value. For during the interval between Sept. 1821 and Mr. Ricardo's death in Sept. 1823 I had found no leisure for completing my work on Political Economy: on that account I had forborne to use the means of introduction to Mr. Ricardo which

MARCH, 1824.

I commanded through my private connexions or simply as a man of letters and in some measure there fore I owed it to my own neglect that I had for ever lost the opportunity of benefiting by Mr. Ricardo's conversation or bringing under his review such new speculations of mine in Political Economy as in any point modified his own doctrines-whether as corrections of supposed oversights, as derivations of the same truth from a higher principle, as further illustrations or proofs of any thing which he might have insufficiently developed, or simply in the way of supplement to his known and voluntary omissions. All this I should have done with the utmost fearlessness of giving offence, and not for a moment believing that Mr. Ricardo would have regarded any thing in the light of an undue liberty, which in the remotest degree might seem to affect the interests of a science so eminently indebted to himself. In reality candour may be presumed in a man of first-rate understanding-not merely as a moral quality-but almost as a part of his intellectual constitution per se; a spacious and commanding intellect being magnanimous in a manner suo jure, even though it should have the misfortune to be allied with a perverse or irritable temper. On this consideration I would gladly have submitted to the review of Mr. Ricardo, as indisputably the first of critics in this department, rather than to any other person, my own review of himself. That I have forfeited the opportunity of doing this is a source of some selfreproach to myself. I regret also that I have forfeited the opportunity of perhaps giving pleasure to Mr. Ricardo by liberating him from a few misrepresentations, and placing his vindication upon a firmer basis even than that which he has chosen. In one respect I enjoy an advantage for such a service, and in general for the polemic part of Political Economy, which Mr. Ricardo did not. The course of my studies has led me to cultivate the scholastic logic. Mr. Ricardo has obviously neglect ed it. Confiding in his own conscious strength, and no doubt partici

pating in the common error of modern times as to the value of artificial logic, he has taken for granted that the Aristotelian forms and the exquisite science of distinctions matured by the subtilty of the schoolmen can achieve nothing in substance which is beyond the power of mere sound good sense and robust faculties of reasoning; or at most can only attain the same end with a little more speed and adroitness. But this is a great error: and it was an ill day for the human understanding when Lord Bacon gave his countenance to a notion, which his own exclusive study of one department in philosophy could alone have suggested. Distinctions previously examined-probed-and accurately bounded, together with a terminology previously established, are the crutches on which all minds-the weakest and the strongest-must alike depend in many cases of perplexity: from pure neglect of such aids, which are to the unassisted understanding what weapons are to the unarmed human strength or tools and machinery to the naked hand of art, do many branches of knowledge at this day languish amongst those which are independent of experiment.

As the best consolation to myself for the lost opportunities with which I have here reproached myself,-and as the best means of doing honour to the memory of Mr. Ricardo,-I shall now endeavour to spread the knowledge of what he has performed in Political Economy. To do this in the plainest and most effectual manner, I shall abstain from introducing any opinions peculiar to myself, excepting only when they may be necessary for the defence of Mr. Ricardo against objections which have obtained currency from the celebrity of their authors-or in the few cases where they may be called for by the errors (as I suppose them to be) even of Mr. Ricardo.-In using this language, I do not fear to be taxed with arrogance: we of this day stand upon the shoulders of our predecessors; and that I am able to detect any errors in Mr. Ricardo-I owe, in most instances, to Mr. Ricardo himself.

X. Y. Z

COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.

Native Land.

A VERY agreeable and spirited opera has at length been produced at this theatre; and, as if success were a thing to be shunned or dreaded, the name of the author has been carefully shrouded within the innermost recesses of the theatre, safe at once from the curious and the critical. Whether it has been thought that an anonymous opera would become more popular than those whose papas" are registered where every day we turn the leaf to read them;" or whether it has been apprehended that the author's cognomen would give a plumper against the piece's celebrity, we have no direct means of judging. But since the publication of the Scotch novels, perhaps the most profitable "deed without a name on record, every masquerade trick is practised in literature, and the Argyll Rooms must quail in domino-folly to the Row. A very eminent lover has asked "What's in a name?" Might it not have been more to the purpose to have inquired "What's in the withholding of a name?"-The public love to guess at little penny mystéries: it matters very little whether it be a novel or a murder, so as the perpetrator of either be not easy of discovery. In the instance of the present opera, which has undoubtedly caught more eyes and ears than any musical piece for the last season or two, the author stands aloof; and every person connected with the theatre, endeavours to put a different name into your hand: you are pestered with variety, quite as much as at an election for Ale-conner at Guildhall. Mr. Dimond is suggested in a whisper by one; but then another has seen Mr. Morton in town, and he can have been in town for no good. With this person Mr. Reynolds is accused, but then he is dethroned at Coventgarden; and Mr. Peake has been linked in with the Poachers, so as to be compelled to prove an alibi to get out of that scrape. Mr. Planché has not altogether escaped suspicion, as he has been observed lurking about the premises; and Mr. Soane, also,

has been pointed to as the author. -However, let the opera belong to whom it may to Mr. Morton, Mr. Peake, Mr. Dimond, Mr. Planché, or Mr. Soane, we can say it is an extremely lively and pleasant production, and likely, we think, to benefit actor, author, and treasurer.

The plot of the opera is simple, yet interesting:-Aurelio, a noble of Genoa, betrothed to Clymante, having been seized as prisoner by the corsairs, is expected to return to his native land with other liberated captives. All his letters and commissions have been intercepted by Giuseppo, a villainous guardian, who wishes to secure his estates. At the opening of the piece the return of the prisoners is very spiritedly and affectingly managed; and Aurelio is actually amongst them, though, to satisfy his suspicions of his mistress's faith, he has prevailed upon his liberator, Captain Tancredi, to pass him off, browned and robed, as an Abyssinian. During his absence from home, the father of Clymante has died, leaving all his wealth to his daughter, on condition of her marrying by a certain day: and Clymante, in the hope of her lover being yet "in the wheel," induces her cousin Biondina to put on the disguise of a young gallant, to save the property by a pretended marriage. The return of the prisoners is on the very eve of this innocent fiction of a wedding, and of course the Abyssinian is in high phrenzy. He is invited, with Tancredi, to join the festival, and much good jealousy attends him. The discovery of the lady's unaltered feelings, the guardian's roguish conduct, and the mock marriage, is all brought about by the contrivances of Aurelio's servant, Peregrino, who, to prove his wife's love, comes home with an imaginary loss of an arm, a leg, and an eye. The opera ends in a marriage and a chorus.

The piece is admirably acted throughout. Mr. Sinclair, though tame in speech, is fiery in song, and produces his jealousy of a very coIourable kind-perhaps it is scarcely green enough in the eyes. Farren has little to do, but he makes the most of

it. Mr. Cooper plays a foreign sea captain with English sea terms, with a good deal of spirit; but the character is not exactly what we are accustomed to in our native land. Fawcett as Peregrino is all ease, impudence, and pleasantry; but he never fails to be amusing in the half-lover and half-servant.

The ladies, however, lord it over the gentlemen bravely in this opera, and make the heads of the creation to look a very inferior race. Miss Paton performs with great gaiety and discretion, keeping several little affectations of which she is proprietress in the back-ground: she executes her songs too with great determination, and sings as though she were wrestling with music. The talents, however, for singing and dancing do not meet in this young lady-but we must not expect "better bread than's made from corn." Miss Love is becoming shrewder and shrewder ever hour; she will anon be able to throw an arch over the Thames: in Zarlina she is mightily agreeable, but once or twice we trembled at seeing her on a precipice-one step more would have carried her ladyship fifty fathoms deep. She cries too much-and, pray has that yellow petticoat a tuck? a leetle lower would not be injurious to her it is not every person that can afford to exhibit an acre of ankle!

But oh! Miss Tree! How shall we ever do justice to her inimitable archness, delicacy, vivacity, and feeling!-She is grace itself. Not only does she act up to the spirit of all that is to be desired, but she sings in her own deep nightingale tones enough" to conjure three souls out of one weaver: and then she dresses, and carries that fair form of hers so beautifully; and dances so modestly and well, and looks so innocently throughout-that, if we were not critics, thrice removed from all the softer affections, we should inevitably be lost! The Spanish dance in itself makes the opera worth seeing-that is, as far as Miss Tree is concerned.

The dialogue of the opera is not "London particular," but it is better than any we have lately heard. The songs, alack! are absolute nonsense, and in spite of the praises of every newspaper save one (the Evening

Chronicle), we protest that the writers of the Della Cruscan poetry were Miltons and Shakspeares compared with the poet of Native Land.-And yet feeble as are the songs, and simple as is the plot, we are compelled, either from the ease of the dialogue or the excellence of the acting, to confess we have not been so well pleased for many a day.

The Poachers.

A dull and indelicate piece under this title has been supplanting the pantomime for a few nights, and ruining the morals of Mr. Blanchard and Miss Love. We are surprised at two things relative to this piece; the first is, that innocent pun-loving Mr. Peake should have been accused of its dirty dulness; and the next is, that the audience do not hoot it from the stage. When a father dare not take his daughter to the theatre, which is really the case when this dramaticle is played, some purifying may be indulged in.

DRURY LANE THEATRE.

The pantomime is gone. The Flying Chest is broken up for old firewood, and Elliston has returned to the Cataract, which he has placarded all about the streets, as if it was a new water-work. Lodoiska has been revived; and its overture and guns go off well together. Elliston still keeps his foot in his stirrup-himself in the saddle.-Pray, sir, when do the troop go to the country fairs?

The Merry Wives of Windsor, no very dull comedy as originally written by that prince of poachers, Warwickshire Will, has been got up at some cost, with a profusion of actors, dresses, scenes, and songs; and, strange to say, it drags on tediously and unsatisfactorily, in spite of Dowton, Miss Stephens, Harley, Miss Povey, and Braham. The music meddles with the wit; and for the sake of "their most sweet voices," Braham and Miss Stephens are pressed into the KING's service, without being very well qualified to bear his arms. Shakspeare and Braham seem to keep different shops. To be sure Master Fenton is no very mad wag, but he is one of Shakspeare's creatures for all that, and not a pupil of Mr. Leoni only!- "This opera" (opera forsooth!) has evidently been got up hastily-Herne's oak is hardly dry. Where was Madame Vestris