supported by the Duke of Marlborough and most of the nobility. A whole chorus of popular writers rehearsed the sublime merits of the Italian school, whilst Pope, Arbuthnot, and a few others, stood by Handel.

Exactly the same drama repeated itself with a different mise en scène, and other actors, about thirty years later. Paris was then the seat of war: Gluck was the German hero, supported by Marie Antoinette; Piccini fought for Italy, under the meretricious banners of the Du Barry; l'Abbé Arnault plied his dignified pen for Gluck, whilst Marmontel answered with daring and unscrupulous sarcasm for Piccini. Even before the open breach the parallel holds good-for as Gluck and Piccini were each engaged to compose an opera (Iphigenia) on the same subject, so Bononcini, Ariosti, and Handel where associated together in the composition of Muzio Scævola; and, moreover, as Gluck was clearly victorious, so was Handel. Here, however, the parallel ceases. Gluck left Paris in possession of the Italian opera; Bononcini, to our honour be it said, left London in possession of German oratorio.

Between two giants like Handel and Bononcini, poor ARIOSTI seems to have been crushed to pieces. Originally he had been a Dominican monk. His temperament was gentle; he loved music, and wrote compositions much admired in his own country; but he should never have met either the Achilles or Hector of his day. His feeble light, that would have illumined a smaller sphere with a mild and gentle lustre, paled

at once before the mighty sun of Handel, and the continuous blaze of Bononcini's fireworks. His Act of Muzio Scavolo (1721) was voted the worst-a decision in which he fully acquiesced. In 1730 it was not worth while to compose any more; his place was filled; the public would hardly listen to his performances on the viol de gamba-an instrument which he himself had introduced into England in 1716. A humbleminded and inoffensive man, as graceful as a woman, and nearly as timid, he lapsed into silence and poverty, and died neglected, but not before he had been forgotten.

The career in England of the brilliant, but arrogant Bononcini, came to a fitting end in 1733. A certain madrigal of his was discovered to be note for note the composition of a Signor LOTTI in Italy. Lotti was communicated with by the Royal Academy of Music. The matter was made public, and Bononcini, not caring to plead guilty, left the country, never to return, amidst the jubilations of the Handelists. The defeated maestro travelled through Europe, still pouring out from his astonishingly facile brain things new and old, and at last fell into the hands of an impostor, who professed to have discovered the philosopher's stone. He died soon afterwards in obscurity and solitude, having outlived his popularity, and lost his character.

Not the least of Handel's rivals was PORPORA, or as Handel used to call him, "old Borbora." Without the romantic fire of Bononcini, the grace of Ariosti, or the originality of Handel, he represented the high

and dry Italian school. He was a great singingmaster, a learned contrapuntist, famous throughout Italy. He was invited over in 1733 by the Italian faction in London, under the patronage of Marlborough and Lord Cooper. His opera of Ariadne was brought out at Lincoln's Inn Fields, and was a great success. But when later on he had the audacity to oppose to Handel's oratorios his own David, his failure was conspicuous, and he was candid enough to admit his great rival's superiority in sacred music. He thought no one's operas equal to his own. He wrote fifty of them; and had the distinguished honour when an old man of teaching young HAYDN, who in return cleaned his boots and powdered his wig for him.

Amongst other Italians who were as thorns in Handel's side, we may mention HASSE, a man of real genius, whose chamber music is still esteemed by amateurs. ARRIGONI came over with Porpore, and helped to supply the Italian programmes at Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre.

We must not forget to mention one or two other celebrities-Dr. PEPUSCH, the Prussian, and Dr. GREENE, the Englishman. Pepusch held the first place in England before the arrival of Handel, and made a distinct sphere for himself even when Handel and the Italian composers were in their glory. His Beggars' Opera killed everything at the time, and still keeps possession of the stage. Pepusch may be said to have understood the merits of the English ballad. They are not considerable; but whenever the public

taste gets jaded with Italian syrup or German solids, English ballads have ever been found useful as a kind of fillip. Pepusch was a learned, but not a very original composer, and his skill in arranging and adapting, especially the popular songs of the day, was greater than his skill in creating. He had the sense to bow before Handel, and the grace to subscribe to his works.

Dr. BOYCE, Dr. ARNE, and Dr. GREENE were all composers of the day: no lover of cathedral music is ignorant of their names; and many of Boyce's anthems have become regular items in the week's services. Boyce was incomparably the greatest, Arne was more graceful than powerful, whilst the name of Greene is usually more respected than loved by the frequenters of choral services. His relations with Handel and Bononcini are hardly creditable to him. He seems to have flattered each in turn. He upheld Bononcini in the great madrigal controversy, and appears to have wearied Handel by his repeated visits. The great Saxon easily saw through the flatteries of a man who was in reality an ambitious rival, and joked about him, not always in the best taste. When he was told that Greene was giving concerts at the "Devil Tavern," near Temple Bar, "Ah!" he exclaimed, "mein poor friend Toctor Greene-so he is gone to de Tevil!"

On one occasion we are told that Greene had left a new solo anthem of his with Handel, who goodnaturedly asked him to breakfast the next morning. The great German was most affable, and discoursed on

every possible subject, but all Greene's attempts to lead the conversation round to the anthem proved futile. At last, growing desperate, he interrupted his host's flowing talk with,—

"But my anthem, sir-how do you like my anthem ?"

"Oh, your anthem? Vell, sir, I did tink it wanted air."

"Wanted air, sir?"

“Yes, sare—air—so I did hang it out of de vindow!"

It must be noticed how entirely English music was swamped by German and Italian masters. It is an unwelcome fact to many, but it must not be overlooked. Much offence has been taken at the phrase, "The English are not a musical people." That phrase interpreted to mean "the English do not care for music," or "they cannot be got to like good music," or "they do not make good executive artists," is certainly untrue, and we should never use it in any of the above senses; but if a musical nation means a nation with a musical tradition and school of its own

a nation not only in possession of old popular melodies, whose origin it is always difficult and sometimes impossible to trace, but also possessing a development of the musical art distinct in character from that of all other nations, and subject to the inspiration of national genius-then we fear that England can scarcely yet be said to have established her claim to be called a musical nation. It is hardly possible not