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of those wonderful discoveries and inge- by positive vice and misery, being in pronious paradoxes, which have excited the portion to its powers of increase, and this spleen of one half of the world, and the naturally becoming greater according to admiration of the other, will have any its actual progress, the farther the privsolid foundation to rest upon, but that ciple of population had been allowed to we must return back (however reluc. proceed, the more dangerous it would tantly) to the common sense and vulgar become, and the more inischiefs would notions of mankind? Or, in other words, be required to carry off, or prevent its whether it does not strictly follow, from excesses. It seemed, therefore (on the Mr. Malthus's first statement (that old maxim of Morbo venienti occurrite) vice and misery are the only possible to be the chief duty of the state--first, checks to excessive population), that to thin or keep population down as low a certain quantity of them is abso- as possible, to prevent this germ and lutely necessary for this purpose, that root of all evil, population, from spreading if they could, they ought not to be its baneful influence beyond the reach of removed, and that the total absence of controul: secondly, to keep the populathem would be the greatest mischief that tion that remained, sufficiently vicious could happen; and, on the other hand, and miserable. whether it does not as strictly follow 11. Whether the author of the Reply from admitting that moral restraint, i. e. has not detected the fallacy of this rereason, prudence, manners, &c. may soning, by shewing that the tendency of and do operate as checks to population, population, to increase in all cases whatthat vice and misery are no longer either ever, is not in proportion to its power

of necessary or desirable, that the more increase; but to its power of increase, moral restraint, or the more wisdom and accompanied and checked by the prosvirtue, and the less vice and misery there pect of not being able to provide for that is in the world, the better; and that if increase, which is a totally different thing the influence of moral restraint could be either from actual vice or misery? For substituted wholly for that of vice and in all stages of society, and of human inmisery, it would not be the greatest evil, tellect and virtue, so long as man retains but the greatest good that could possibly the common faculties of his nature, the take place? This latter view of the sub- tendency of population to excess, or to ject indeed is nearer the truth, but it procluce mischief, must be repressed and wants that air of originality which recom- counterbalanced by the prospect of the mended Mr. M.'s first performance to the inconveniences to ensue; and this motive notice of the public.

must operate more forcibly in proportion, 9. Whether the author of the Essay to the inconveniencies apprehended, that need have taken so much pains to prove is, according to the degree in which it i merely the existence, or actual operation likely to become excessive. So that the of vice and misery, or the difficulty of danger of excessive population is one bringing mankind to act from motives of that lessens in proportion as the excess pure reason? No one ever disputed this becomes greater, that naturally corrects difficulty; but it was believed, that if itself, and can never go beyond a certain they could be brought to act from such point. Nor when the excess does bemotives, it would be well for them; and come great, does this arise from Mr. Malthus, to the great joy of some previous actual state of population, or persons, was supposed to have proved from the absence of vice and misery to that ihis was a mistake, or that all the repress it, but from the degradation of evils in society were absolutely neces- morals, and an indifference to conse, sary evils. He bas retracted a great part quences, on the consideration of- which of his theory; but it required a degree of the true, natural, preventive check to fortitude, not to be expected even from a population depends. Hence it follows, philosopher like Mr. Malthus, to do this that the increase of population is not in in such a manner, as not to leave the itself an alarming circumstance, and that general plan of his work full of incon- the best way of preventing its excess is sistencies and almost unintelligible. by diffusing rational principles, and the

10. Whether Mr. M. did not contrive notions of decency and comfort, as wideto represent the tendency of population ly as possible ; two" positions not inculto increase beyond the means of sub- cated in the most unequivocal manner in, sistence, as something of a very alarm- Mr. Malthus's writings. ing and dangerous nature? Its tendency 12. Whether, in å word, Mr. Malto excess, except as this was repressed thus, by giving up the necessity of vice

and

and misery as exclusive checks to population, has not done away all the practical inferences to be drawn from his system, both with respect to the indifference, or rather horror, with which we should look upon the thing itself, and the methods we should take to prevent it?

13. Whether, what Mr. Malthus lays down as a law of nature, namely, that no one has a right to beget children after the world is fully stocked, or when the produce of the earth is not more than sufficient to maintain its inhabitants, and the limitation which he has given of this law, namely, that no one as a right to do this, but those who are rich enough to provide for them, do not directly contradict each other? Since, if there were no more food left, the rich man could not possibly provide for his children any more than the poor man; and if there is a surplus over which the rich man has a command, or if the produce of the earth is more than sufficient for the inhabitants, then it ceases to be a law of nature, that the poor man should not be allowed to bring children into the world, because" at nature's mighty feast there is no vacant cover for them!"-Whether there is one law of nature for the poor, and another for the rich? The provisions of different families must depend on the different distribution of the wealth of the community, that is, on the laws of the land (which, however, in the present instance Mr. M. wishes to see altered, because they are more favourable to the poor than he could wish), but can have nothing to do with the laws of nature, or the inability of the earth to furnish subsistence for more than a certain number of inhabitants.

14. Whether, as a rule of common prudence, every man did not know, that he should have more difficulty in maintaining a wife and family than in shifting for himself only, quite as well before as since the publication of Mr. Malthus's Essay?

These questions, fairly answered, will, I suspect, go near to establish the three points which the letter-writer undertakes to prove. First, that Mr. M.'s reasoning, whatever its merit might be, was not his own. Secondly, that, as applied to the question of the perfectibility of mankind, it was an evident contradiction. Thirdly, that in a general and practical view of the subject, the position laid down by Mr. Malthus, of the disproportion between the possible increase of population and the possible increase in the means of MONTHLY MAG, No. 183.

subsistence, does not overturn any of the
received principles of political economy,
or social improvement.
Your's, &c.

PHILO.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine..

SIR,

Tremarks made in the Edinburgh HE following observations on the Review, vol. 25, on Professor Vince's Essay on Gravitation, may be thought of importance by many of your philosophical readers.

According to Sir I. Newton's hypothesis, the force with which a planet is urged towards the sun, is the difference between the pressures of the fluids on the sides next and opposite to the sun. The pressures on these half surfaces (as the density of the fluid continually varies) can only be found by a fluxional calculus; and upon examining the Professor's solution, it appears to be perfectly satisfactory. Now the Reviewer makes the pressure towards the sun to be as the fluxion of the density: this is manifestly false. If a series of quantities increase according to any law, is the difference of the first and last terms, the same as the difference between the sums of the first half and the second half of the series?--For something of this kind must have entered into the mind of the Reviewer, if he had any meaning at all in what he has stated. Further, the fluxion of the density of the fluid is independent of the density of the planet; and yet in estimat ing the force of the planet to the sun, the density of the planet necessarily enters into the calculation, the accelerative force being as the moving force, divided by the quantity of matter in the planet, or by its magnitude and density conjointly. These palpable blunders, into which the reviewer has fallen, can be imputed only to his total ignorance of the subject. Besides the absurdity of Le Sage's hypothesis, it is not true as asserted by the Reviewer, that any two bodies will, upon that supposition, he urged towards each other by forces varying inversely as the squares of their distances. I have noticed two strong propensities in these Reviewers: one, that of endeavouring to discover errors where there are none, and to conceal merit where there is any; the other, to make their Review a vehicle for propagating their own opinions.

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Your's, &c.

A. M.

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Fo the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

SIR,

THE

HERE is perhaps no subject connected with the philosophy of the human mind, which has been less investigated, or which appears to promise less success than those powers of invention in music, that correspond with what is termed genius in poetry. The great object of the present essay, is to promote a spirit of enquiry into so mysterious a faculty of our nature, without pretending to have discovered an adequate solution of the difficulty, or to contribute in any material degree to the stock of public information.

For the success which has attended the examination of poetical genius, we are perhaps indebted to the certainty of those data upon which the disquisition depended. The imagination of the poet, according to Plato, (who has been followed in his opinion by Aristotle, Longinus, and the whole host of subsequent philosophers,) is a general mirror, in which myriads of objects, whose original must be sought in the wide expanse of the universe, are represented in the most faithful and vivid manner. Considered in this view of a mimetic art, poetry exhibits no insurmountable difficulties to those who would trace it's origin in the mind; and it follows, that, if poetical genius is in this manner derivative, its powers will be in the direct ratio of the accuracy and retention of its perceptions. These may be afterwards summoned, Jike the supernatural ministers of sorcery, in an endless variety of shapes and combinations, to instruct, terrify, infame, or embellish. These appear to the profane and uninitiated, widely removed from the round of possibilities, and the creation of a mind almost divine, since the page of true poetry is able to excite a constant surprise not only by an imitation of the many forms, actions, and outward habitudes of nature, but even by the representation of things the most remote, of sentiment, character, and spiritual existence.

The combinations of external forms in painting are infinite. The whole world is no less the school of the painter, than of the poet; but with this distinction, that in the communication of thought and sentiment, the painter is confined to those which are connected with certain modes of form. Still its powers of exciting astonishment are wonderful.

De Repub. lib. x.

Every object used by the painter, considered separately, may be perfectly familiar to the spectator, while at the same sime the grouping attitudes, or concomi tant scenery, may render the whole a real novelty. But the great source of all its beauties is nature and their merit consists in the fidelity of the resemblance; since the most remarkable imitations in this art, as well as in poetry, can aspire to nothing more than the character of accurate first copies.

Thus then we have seen that the fountain-head of these two arts, is, the wide theatre of created forins, But where shall we discover the great archetypes of musical creation? To what original shall we trace the reflections in the mirror of a musical imagination? I answer, to nature likewise. To what extent, we shall perceive in the sequel.

Music is a pleasing succession or combination of sounds. Its ultimate end, like that of poetry and every imitative art, must be pleasure. The production of that pleasure is proportioned to the faculties of the musician to unite or invert in an agreeable manner the customary succession of sounds in nature, without infringing upon the laws which she has established to render them delightful.

Natural sounds may be considered as simple or compound, and are produced by animate or inanimate bodies.

I. Animals are almost all endowed by nature with the power of expressing aloud, in a manner peculiar to them selves, their pleasure, anger, or distress. These vocal utterances have every one of them a distinct character and appellation; and in most instances the terms employed to express the sounds, are themselves descriptive of their effects on the auditory nerve.

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II. In the same manner the inanimate parts of nature furnish us with a vast variety of sounds, from the separate or combined operations of fire, air, water, and numberless artificial bodies. these we give the epithets' cracking rattling, rustling, grating, creaking, dashing rumbling, clattering,' &c. &c. while the former are distinguished by the following: roaring, groaning, bellowing, whining, howling, wailing, chirping, shouting,' &c. &c.

The specific character of all these sounds will be found to range them under a general head without any difficulty. These heads or classes may be reduced to the following:

1st. Sublime, as the noise of torrents, the hollow rushing of stormy winds, the rolling of thunder, the roar of wild beasts, &c.

2nd. Pathetic, as the whine of young animals, the notes of the nightingale, the distant sound of bells, &c.

Sd. Harsh and discordunt, as the grating of wheels, the notes of the peacock and guinea fowl, the sharpening of instruments, braying of an ass, &c. &c.

4th. Pretty and melodious, as the notes of singing-birds, the soft tones produced by the wind through an aperture, &c.

But let me not dismiss the subject of natural sounds, without adverting to the great variety so remarkable in the human voice under the many circumstances of anger reproof, tenderness, exhortation, &c. Nay, we find that in some persons, and in some countries (as for instance in Wales, Languedoc, &c.) the common course of conversation runs in a kind of continued melody, more or less pleasing, according to the affectation predominant in the mind of the speaker. Nor does it seem improbable that the same effect would be observable in all human beings, but for the restraint of habit and reuned intercourse. At the birth of music, this may have been universal. Uncivilized nations are still notorious for it; in their expression, though there is said to be little of what is pleasing, yet there is a perpetual change of tone, now high and accented, at other times low and plaintive; loud and accelerated when they are angry, yet seldom distinguished by a slow and dignified intonation under any impression. There is sufficient in all this to prove, that nature has connected peculiar conformations of sound with certain habits of mind; and that these, whether simple or compound, can be readily referred by all reasonable creatures to the feelings in which they originated.

Having thus briefly dispatched the subject of what may be called primitive sounds, let us observe how they may have contributed to the formation of music, and inusical genius. When the effects of particular sounds were ascer tained; and the means of producing artificial imitations of them had been invented, the only difficulty to the first performers must have been the collecting a sufficient number of musical expressions of the same character, and of increasing their effect by a proper contrast. The mere appeal to his own bosom, would

have been a sufficient test of the fitness, or impropriety of the tones employed. By this they would know what succession of sounds would best rouse or appease, appal or inspirit, enliven or soothe. For the affections are moved not so much by introducing learned analogies or discordances, as by perspicuous, and natural combination. In the infancy of music, therefore, when it is probable the height of the art amounted only to the employment of unisons, and when the practice of it was extremely rare, its effects on the hearers must have been very extensive. Of its influence, indeed, on those who had never before experi enced it, we can at this day have no adequate idea. Their souls, if I may so express myself, must have been wholly at the disposal of the performer. His pow ers must have appeared miraculous, and sent by heaven for the purposes to which he chose to apply them. In this view of the subject we may read with patience, the strange stories of antiquity, of Asclepiades, Empedocles, &c,for the feats of Linus, Orpheus, Timotheus, and Amphion. Nor shall we be surprised at the address of Pindar to his Lyre.

τ ̓ ἀιχματὰν κεραυνον σβεννύεις Λενάυ πυρος. And again,

Κῆλαδὲ κ

Δαιμόνων θέλγει φρένας.

Musical Genius then, in the early stages of the art, was the power of selecting, and a facility in arranging, the several sounds of nature, for the purpose of exciting in the hearer correspondent sentiments or affections, whether immediately, or by association. And to this, if I am not mistaken, must we look, even at the present day, for all that is truly desirable in music. As a proof of the assertion, we always find men of real science delighted and still dwelling with pleasure on simple melodies, and those old national airs which were dictated by a taste, as yet not depraved by luxury, nor pampered with false embellishments. They breathe indeed a spirit of genuine simplicity and feeling. Their excellence is likewise proved by the universality of their effects. No man whose organs are perfect, can hear with indifference the tunes of many old Scotch ballads. Or, to be particular, who will ever listen to the old air of Gilderoy, or to the sad Welch air, which records their defeat in Rhudd lan Marsh, without a degree of melancholy? It is of no avail to urge, that it owes its effects to a minor modulation;

since this modulation is not the invention of art, but the pure, unsophisticated voice of nature, the voice of agony, wretchedness, and supplication. Let any person, a complete stranger to music, hear the Kupi noor, or Lord have mercy upon us,' as chanted in our cathedral-choirs, and presume to say, that it is not the expression of nature. It would be as absurd to deny it, as to pretend to feel cheerful at the pathetic songs of Handel, "Ye sons of Israel, now lament," "Total eclipse," &c. &c. To produce these effects, is to feel the full force of every note; for they are in fact the best evidence, that,

"Art is Nature to advantage dress'd." When any imitative art, however, has attained to a great degree of perfection, it is usual for its votaries to lose sight of the original prototype in the contempla. tion of illustrious copies. Nature, the great, best source, at length appears poor and exhausted, and her magazines all plundered. Under these seeming disadvantages, the only resource for the candidate for fame, is thought to be in the study of former excellence; and to this must be attributed the degeneracy of all arts, and particularly the extinction of all genius in music.

Should it be asked, in what way can the sounds of nature be rendered serviceable to the musical composer? I answer, by a careful attention to his own feelings, upon which no melody or harmony will have a just effect, unless they are such as nature herself suggests. Of these simplicity is the striking feature; and wherever adopted, they will be sure to please. To these, then, let him pay particular attention, neither anxious to astonish by a display of the mysteries of his art, nor intent only upon rapidity and difficulty of execution, both of which, however useful in contr ast, must, if continued excite suspicions of mere technical artifice. No man seems to have made nature his principal study more than Haydn, in whom, perhaps, are unitcd all the excellencies of the art, and whose works are unpleasant, or at least, indifferent to us, only where he is contented with quaintness, obscurity or conceit, instead of his usual unlaboured, simplicity. Indeed, if we take a survey of the respective merits of old, and modern composers, we shall observe them popular, and in request, only in proportion to the stock of nature to be found in them.

Having then insisted thus far, that mu

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sical genius is distinguished by a close attention to the effects of primary natural sounds, I cannot help adverting to the music of the present day. The modern taste in this art has, it is to be feared, prevented many composers of considerable talents from perceiving, that they fly from the great object of music, when they tire and distract the ear with long and rapid passages without meaning, cumbrous or irregular harmony, and frequent chromatic cadences. perhaps no where to be lamented more, than in the treatment of little pathetic airs, which are often introduced into concertos, only to be crushed under a heap of chaotic rubbish, or to be weighed down by a superfluity of ornament. This is to dress a venerable matron in the foppery and tinsel of a courtezan; and all forsooth, that we may admire the science and execution of some popular performer. But why this sacrifice of taste and judgment to the idol of fashion; and why this advance to a more than Egyptian darkness? It is high time to bid adieu to such frivolities. It is high time to look back to the works of composers, which are still the admiration of men not callous to the beauties of a simple and nervous style; and if it be too irksome to contemplate the natural dignity of many old pieces, the works of such men as Byrd, as Peter Philips, or Luca Marenzio; let us at least not altogether lose sight of such authors as Handel and Corelli.

If it should be objected, that the above observations are confined to the earliest history of music, let it be remembered, that the same natural principles exist, however obscured by subsequent refinements. It is only a more improved mechanism, which distinguishes the carriage of the moderns from the car of our ancestors. The same laws of construction affect both; and to these must recourse be had for future improvements. Music, which in its infancy was nothing more than a pleasing succession of melodies, must have acquired almost imperceptibly the conjunctive passages, and idioms of the art, which it still possesses. It was gradually discovered, that the simplicity of the ancients would admit of a modern character by variation and periphrasis, and that there were scarcely any four successive notes, which could not receive some embellishment that might heighten the beauty, while it preserved the character of the expression. Besides these were inserted sentences of

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