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Thompson, Miss Thomas; Mr. Charles Bannister, and Mr. Rein

hold.

In this scheme the tide of success had a long course, and might have flowed still longer had not an anxiety to gratify the public taste, by the production of novelties, involved him in new expences, and fresh plans.

At an immense salary, he engaged the celebrated Torri, whose brilliant fireworks have had no equal in this country. The consequence of Signor Torri's exhibition was, that the burlettas were no longer followed, and on those nights on which the fireworks were not displayed, the gardens were entirely deserted. When the novelty of this exhibition was over, it was too late to return to what had before charmed the multitude, and as no second Torri could be found, the gardens were relinquished at the expiration of the lease, after an ineffectual struggle to revive them, and the proprietor retired from the concern a very considerable loser.

In the mean time, (viz. in the year 1771) Dr. Arnold married Miss Napier, the only daughter of Doctor Napier, an eminent physician, and a lineal descendant of the far-famed Lord Napier, of Marcheston, whose life has been written with so much elegance by the present Earl of Buchan. He received with this lady a considerable fortune, and though, in consequence of several successive difficult and dangerous labours, a temporary separation and sea air were found necessary for the re-establishment of her health, yet were the last years of his life passed with this exemplary and highly accomplished woman, in uninterrupted harmony, and in the constant acknowledgment of those nice and valuable attentions which render the progress of life happy, and its decline easy. This lady still lives to lament a loss, which even those who knew him less cannot too sincerely deplore, and, if the testimony of one who has known her well in every relation of life, for nearly thirty years, may be relied on, the poignancy of that anguish, which final separation leaves in the widow's breast, must be soon soothed into peaceful resignation, by the recollection of a steady perseverance in the exercise of every domestic duty, and a faithful and affectionate discharge of every claim upon the wife and the mother.

In the year 1773, his celebrated oratorio of the Prodigal Son was performed, at the particular request of the stewards, at the installation of Lord North at Oxford. The handsome manner in which this request was complied with, produced the composer an equally handsome offer of an honorary degree in the university, and although he declined that, as a compliment, which he knew himself so well qua

lified to obtain by regular and scientific gradation, it still excited the desire of Academic honours, which he immediately sought and procured. His exercise on this occasion was Hughes's "Power of Harmony," a poem well adapted to the display of versatile talents.

At the expiration of the Mary bone lease, Dr. Arnold returned to Covent Garden Theatre, a part of which property Mr. Colman, the father of the present dramatist, had about this time purchased.He there laid the foundation of an intimacy with the translator of Terence, and the author of the Jealous Wife, that lasted till that unhappy derangement which closed the life of Mr. Colman.

When that gentleman left Covent Garden, and succeeded Foote in the property of the little theatre, Dr. Arnold, with the same zeal which distinguished his friendships throughout life, and in which he ever sacrificed his own interest, followed the fortunes of his friend, though he relinquished, by this step, more than half his yearly emoluments. The friendship of Dr. Arnold continued to be essentially serviceable to the son, till the latest period of his own life. Independent of private connexions, his musical productions and arrangements added dignity to the theatre, and the former will long continue to delight the public: perhaps, with all due respect for living composers, we may assert that the stage has sustained a loss by his death, which it may be very long ere it can be replaced.

In 1783 Dr. Arnold was appointed organist to His Majesty, and composer to the chapels royal; and in this situation he furnished a、 very considerable number of church services and anthems, which, though little known to the world in general, are among the most estimable and lasting of his works.

In 1784 he was an active promoter and assistant in the grand commemoration of Handel, that took place in Westminster Abbey, and was appointed one of the subdirectors of that celebrity which, under the auspices of so many noble personages, reflected the highest honour on the national taste and musical genius of Great Britain. He felt, indeed, throughout life, a warm and earnest interest for the affairs of the Royal Society of Musicians, and that institution, which now lifts its head, in wealthy independence, and distributes princely assistance to decayed musicians, and their unprovided families, owes a great part of its opulence to the zeal and liberality of Dr. Arnold. In the very early period of his life, when this society was yet in its infant state, and was struggling for existence against a course of ill success, he generously presented to it his oratorio of the Cure of Saul, then in the zenith of popular estimation, and this work effected that turn of fortune to which they are now

indebted, under royal munificence, for extensive patronage, considerable funded property, and increasing success.

When the last war stopped the progress of the commemorations at the Abbey, the annual performances were continued, first at St. Margaret's church, Westminster, and afterwards at Whitehall chapel; and, as the noble directors declined the management on a smaller scale, the whole labours rested on the shoulders of the sub-directors. On these occasions Dr. Arnold was ever the most active and indefatigable member. His zeal for the good cause bore him up through innumerable fatigues, anxieties, and vexations. He had to contend occasionally with such turbulent spirits as required a skilful negociator to manage, and by a happy suavity he generally contrived to ameliorate discontents, to conciliate jealousies, and to reconcile opponents. The situation of conductor of these performances he filled till within the last two years, when the annual concert of the Royal Society of Musicians was incorporated with the King's concerts, as the last of which it still continues to be acknowledged.

In 1786, Dr. Arnold, under the immediate patronage, and by the particular desire, of THE KING, undertook a magnificent edition of the works of Handel, in score, which he completed in one hundred and eighty numbers, forming thirty-six folio volumes. This work comprehended all the oratorios, anthems, operas, concertos, fugues, trios, duetts, lessons, &c. excepting such Italian operas as were neither interesting nor vendible. From these, however, and the whole of Handel's works, he compiled two very fine oratorios,-The Redemption, and Time and Truth. He had a remarkable and most happy facility in the adaptation of English words to foreign airs, and the world are indebted for a familiar acquaintance with a great part of the most beautiful of Handel's music, to his judgment and skill in this particular, by which he has, as it were, innoculated so much excellent music into our own language.

Soon after the commencement of the above-named work, he published four volumes of cathedral music, in continuation of the plan on which Dr. Boyce had furnished his elegant and estimable work.

In 1789 he became conductor of the Academy of Ancient Music, by election, a situation which he filled with peculiar credit, and where his loss will long continue to be sincerely lamented.

Amongst the many other public institutions in which Dr. Arnold distinguished himself, we must not omit to mention the Glee Club, at which he presided, we believe, from its commencement. This society, which, during his life-time, was the resort of all the amateurs, and of the first personages in the kingdom, and which afforded

to the lovers of vocal harmony the richest feast, is, we are sorry to find, likely to fall into decay. Their sun is set, and their day is

over.

[To be concluded in our next.]

A PICTURE FROM NATURE.

THOSE who have never observed our boldest coasts, have no idea of their tremendous sublimity!-The boasted works of art, the highest towers, and the noblest domes, are but ant-hills when put in comparison. The single cavity of a rock often exhibits a coping higher than the ceiling of a Gothic cathedral. The face of the shore offers to the view a wall of massive stone, ten times higher than our tallest steeples. What should we think of a precipice three quarters of a mile in height? And yet the rocks of Saint Kilda are higher. What must be our awe, to approach the edge of that stupendous height, and to look down on the unfathomable vacuity below!-to ponder on the terrors of falling to the bottom, where the waves, that sell like mountains, are scarcely seen to curl on the surface, and the roar of an ocean, a thousand leagues broad, appears softer than the murmur of a brook! It is in these formidable" mansions, that myriads of sea-fowls are for ever seen sporting; flying, in security, down the depth, half a mile below the feet of the spectator! The crow and the chough avoid those frightful precipices. They choose smaller heights, where they are less exposed to the tempest. It is the cormorant, the gurnet, the tarrock, and the terne, that venture to these dreadful retreats, and claim an undisturbed possession. To the spectator from above, those birds, though some of them are above the size of an eagle, seem scarcely as large as a swallow, and their loudest screaming is scarcely perceptible! To walk along the shore, when the tide is departed, or to sit in the hollow of a rock, when it is come in, attentive to the va❤ rious sounds that gather on every side, above, and below, may raise the mind to its highest and noblest exertions. The solemn roaring of the waves, swelling into, or subsiding from, the vast caverns beneath; the piercing note of the gull; the frequent chatter of the guillemotte; the loud voice of the awk, the scream of the heron; and the hoarse, deep, periodical croaking of the cormorant, all unite to furnish out the grandeur of the scene, and turn the mind to Him who is the essence of all sublimity!

Q. Z.

SPECIMEN OF MODERN BIOGRAPHY:

A SHEET OMITTED IN A

VOLUMINOUS LIFE OF JOHNSON.

APRIL the 20th, I dined with him at Sir J. R

-'s. I re

gret that I have preserved but few minutes of his conversation on that day, though he was less talkative, and fuller of capriciousness and contradictions than usual; as the following dialogue may shew -whilst at the same time it proves that there is no question so entirely barren of matter or argument, which could not furnish him an occasion of displaying the powers of his mighty mind. We talked of public places; and one gentleman spoke warmly in praise of Sadler's Wells. Mr. C, who had been so unfortunate as to displease Dr. Johnson, and wished to reinstate himself in his good opinion, thought he could not do it more effectually than by decrying such light amusements as those of tumbling and rope-dancing in particular, he asserted that "a rope-dancer was, in his opinion, the most despicable of human beings." Johnson (awfully rolling himself, as he prepared to speak, and bursting out into a thundering tone),

σ

Sir, you might as well say that St. Paul was the most despicable

of human beings. Let us beware how we petulantly and ignorantly traduce a character which puts all other characters to shame. Sir, a rope-dancer concentres in himself all the cardinal virtues."

Well as I was, by this time, acquainted with the sophistical talents of my illustrious friend, and often as I had listened to him in wonder, while he made the worse appear the better reason," I could not but suppose that, for once, he had been betrayed by his violence into an assertion which he could not support. Urged by my curiosity, and perhaps rather wickedly desirous of leading him into a contest, I ventured, leaning briskly towards him across my friend the Duke of ➡'s chair, to say, in a sportive familiar manner, which he sometimes indulgently permitted me to use, " Indeed, Dr. Johnson! did I hear you right? A rope-dancer concentre in himself all the cardinal virtues ?" The answer was ready :-Johnson, "Why, yes, Sir, deny it who dare. I say, in a rope-dancer there is temperance, and faith, and hope, and charity, and justice, and prudence, and fortitude." Still I was not satisfied; and, desirous to hear his proofs at full length :-Boswell, Why, to be sure, Sir, fortitude I can easily conceive."-Johnson (interrupting me), "Sir, if you cannot conceive the rest, Sir, it is to no purpose that you conceive the seventh. But to those who cannot comprehend, it is necessary

U VOL. XIV.

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