assert that all other music is artificial and meretricious—­who contend that the Italian and German schools are usurping an undue ascendency over the genuine, but modest, merit of our native music.  That Bishop, Calcott, Webbe, Arne, and the rest, had reached the perfection of their art, would seem a bold assertion; and their most enthusiastic admirers would probably hesitate to state it as their conviction, that the compositions of their favourites contain the elements of universal popularity.  Such, however, is the logical deduction from these premises, and the necessary conclusion from opinions, which those who hold them will not easily evade.  If the music of our country does indeed possess the excellence, so fondly asserted by its numerous admirers, we might naturally expect, amid the general demand in Europe for musical entertainments, that its beauties should not be entirely neglected and unknown.  But while the Italian opera has found its way over nearly the whole of Europe, and is absolutely naturalized in England, France, and Spain, our musical productions are unknown beyond the limits of their native shores.  This, being a negative proposition, is not capable of direct proof.  Michael Kelly gives an amusing account of the performance of the celebrated hunting song at Vienna, in which the discordant cries of “Tally-ho, Tally-ho,” are said to have driven the Emperor in indignation from the theatre, a great part of the audience also following the royal example.  “The ladies hid their faces with the hands, and mothers were heard cautioning daughters never to repeat the dreadful expression of Tally-ho.”  We have, ourselves, heard a no less air than “Drops of Brandy,” performed by a military band, stationed on the balcony of the palace of the King of Naples, on the evening of the royal birthday.  The crowds enjoying the cool air on the Stª Lucia, exclaimed “Inglese, Inglese!” English, English! as this odd reminiscence of our countrymen was first heard.  We are not aware of any other instances in which English music has been introduced upon the Continent.  More such instances may undoubtedly exist; but the broad fact, that our music makes no way among other nations, cannot be disputed.  The judgment of the civilized world can scarcely be in error; and it is difficult for the most ardent admirer of his country’s music, to account for the fact on any hypothesis which is not founded on the real inferiority of the English school.

This inferiority can be no matter of surprise, when we consider the energy with which the tuneful art is cultivated, and the importance with which it is invested, by the Italians.  In the freedom happily enjoyed by Englishmen, all pursuits are open to individual enterprise and ambition; and every path to fame or opulence is thronged with busy eager aspirants, all running the race of eminence and distinction, with that strong purpose of the will which leaves but little opportunity for the indulgence of tastes, which, though