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his unsuccessful attempts, he again retired to bed, though not to rest; for exactly as the hand of the clock on the mantel-piece, pointed to twelve, he saw the figure of his friend again, but with a countenance so altered, so pallid, so ghastly, that Andrews' alarm increasing, he rang the bell, and called up the whole family, who, with great diffi. culty, at last composed him and convinced him of his error. In the morning at breakfast, Andrews, in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Pigou, Topham, and various persons, recapitulated all the particulars of this extraordinary occurrence, and in his own mind, evidently believed he had still seen Lord Lyttleton. When Andrews returned to town on the following Tuesday, he found at his house in Gowerstreet, a letter from Lord Westcote, and another from Captain O'Byrne, informing him that Lord Lyttleton had died on the previous Saturday, at midnight; the very night, and the very hour, when he thought he had seen the ghastly figure of his friend. “ 'To others," concluded Topham, “ I leave the task of commenting on, or elucidating this singular transaction. I can only add, that as you know, few men talk more, and generally, more pleasantly, than Andrews; but, for the space of two or three months after Lord Lyttleton's death, he would continue to sit, during successive hours, motionless, and absorbed in silence, in fact, never speaking a word, but what related to the foregoing mysterious event.

Topham thus declining giving a decision, I must now add a few words, though I own I do not profess that they are quite new. From the first Lord Lyttleton to his son, the one just mentioned, and to the daughter, Lady Valentia, one distinguished characteristic seemed to pervade the whole family; viz. a strange belief in supernatural appearances. The first Lord Lyttleton often asserted, that his first wife, his departed Lucy, whom he has immortalized by his verse, had more than once appeared to him. His son, as has been described, died a victim to the imaginary visitation of a spirit : and his attached sister, Lady Valentia, is said to have maintained, that her fond, affectionate mother, after her death, had often stood before her bed, and smiled


her.' Of this strange tale, it is obvious to remark, that, considering the number of persons concerned, it seems extraordinary that it should now come before the public for the first time. It is now too late for investigation, though, if the whole be not one of those senseless hoaxes in which the tribe of quizzers find such unaccountable gratification, there is enough of the wild and wonderful about these appalling circumstances, if not to make us believe, at least to induce hesitation in unbelief.

The · Reminiscences' of Michael Kelly make up a more substantial book than the autobiographical sketches of Frederick Reynolds. We cannot, indeed, say that the subjects are altogether of the most important kind, nor is theatrical gossip particularly valuable to any but the parties concerned: but there will be found intermixed with this, some interesting illustrations of the state of musical science both at home and abroad, and a sprinkling of amusing anecdote connected with names of some note on the political scene. The Kelly family were all musical, and in Michael, the propensity was so decided as to induce his father to send him to Italy for more complete instructions in the principles of the science. He appeared on the Dublin stage before he was fifteen, and left Ireland in May, 1779. He reached Naples in safety, and placed himself under the tuition of a celebrated teacher, who insisted on his abandonment of the piano-forte as highly prejudicial • to the voice.' He was patronised by Sir Williain Hamilton, presented by him to the king and queen, and, on the whole, seems to have passed his time very pleasantly. In August, 1779, occurred the memorable eruption of Vesuvius, of which Sir William was fortunate enough to be an eye-witness, and his protegé had the advantage of being constantly near him during that season of magnificence and dismay. Naples was in great danger, and its safety appeared to depend on the direction of the wind, which, happily, blew towards the opposite quarter. The Lazzaroni took it into their heads, that the exhibition of the image of St. Januarius would silence the mountain, and went in a body to demand that it might be placed in their hands for that purpose. The archbishop of Naples, apprehensive that the valuable jewels which adorned the saint might disappear during the ceremony, and unwilling at the same time to hazard the personal consequence of a refusal, took the middle course of getting out of the way. The Lazzaroni, in high displeasure,

held a council, and I saw them,' says Mr. Kelly, ' in an immense body march to Posilipo, whither the king and queen had retired, determined to force the king to order the saint to be given up to them. The king appeared on the balcony to address them, but in vain ; the queen also enceinte) came forward, but without avail. The royal guard and a Swiss regiment were ordered to disperse them ; but they were not to be intimidated; neither intreaties nor menaces could divert them from their purpose. • The Saint ! the Saint! give us up our Saint !' was the universal cry. Just as popular fury was at its height, a man appeared, whom the moment they saw, the wolves became lambs ; the mob fell on their knees before him bareheaded and in total silence. He addressed them in the following conciliatory manner :

« « What do you come here for, ye infamous scoundrels? Do ye want to disturb your Saint in his holy sanctuary, by moving him? Think ye, ye infamous rascals, that if St. Gennaro had chosen to have the mountain silent, ere this, he would not have commanded it

be so ? Hence! to your homes, ye vagrants ! away! be off! lest the Saint, enraged at your infamous conduct, should order the earth to open and swallow ye up!"

• This soothing speech, aided by a kick to one, and a knock on the head to another, (fairly dealt to all within his reach,) dispersed them without a single murmur ! So that what the supplication of their sovereign, backed by the soldiery, could not effect, was accomplished by one man, armed'indeed with superstition, but with nothing else! This man was Father Rocco, well known to have possessed the most unbounded power over the lower orders in Naples : of no saint in the calendar (Si. Gennaro excepted) did they stand in such awe as of Father Rocco. He was a sensible, shrewd man, and used the power he possessed with great discretion. He was much in the confidence of the Chevalier Acton and the other ministers. Previous to his time, assassinations were frequent at night in the streets, which were in utter darkness, and the government dared not interfere to have them lighted, lest they should offend the Lazzaroni ; but Father Rocco undertook to do it. Before each house in Naples there is a figure of a Madonna, or some saint, and he had the address to persuade the inhabitants that it was a mortal sin to leave them in the dark !

• I was myself a witness of the following ridiculous scene. One evening, a groupe of Lazzaroni were very attentively playing at their favourite game of Mora ; beside them was a puppet-show, in which Punch was holding forth with all his might. Father Rocco suddenly appeared amongst them. The first step the holy man took, was to sweep into his pouch all the money staked by the gamblers; then, turning to the spectators of Punch, he bawled out, “ So, So, ye rapscallions! instead of going out to fish for the convents and support your families, ye must be loitering here, attending to this iniquitous Punch! this lying varlet !” Then lifting up a large wooden cross, suspended by huge beads round his waist, he lustily belaboured all within his reach, lifting up the cross at intervals, and crying out, “Look here, you impious rogues ! Questo é il vero Pulcinella! This is the true Punch, you impious villains.” And, strange as this mixture of religious zeal and positive blasphemy may appear, they took their thrashing with piety, and departed peaceably like good Catholics.'

A considerable change soon took place in the situation of Kelly. A Signor Aprile, the famous soprano,' the greatest • singer and musician of the day,' took a fancy to him, and offered to instruct him without remuneration. This was too advantageous a proposal for rejection, and Aprile kept his word to the letter. His pupil speaks of him with becoming gratitude.

I prevailed on him to accept, as a remembrance, the piano-forte I brought from Ireland,-it was my only possession; but I declare, that had it been worth thousands, it would have been his ; my love and gratitude to him were so strong.. Many years afterwards, when dining with my dear and lamented friend, the late Lady Hamilton, at Merton, I had the pleasure of hearing of this circumstance from the illustrious Lord Nelson, near whom I had the honour of being seated at table. He said, “ Mr. Kelly, when in Naples, I have frequently heard your old master, Aprile, speak of you with great affection, though he said that, when with him, you were as wild as a colt. He mentioned, also, your having given him your piano-forte, which, he said, nothing should induce him to part with." ;

At parting, Aprile gave his pupil money and recommendations, by the help of which young Kelly procured an engagement at Florence, and on its termination, accepted another as first comic tenor at Venice. While making a short stay at Bologna, he describes the following whimsical occurrence.

• I had a letter to deliver to a Bolognese nobleman, Signor Ferussini, a singular character, though a very worthy man; he was frightfully ugly and humpbacked, yet be was afflicted with the disease of supposing every woman who saw him, in love with him ; as he was rich, he spared no expense in adorning himself, in order to set off his charms to the best advantage. I was waiting for him one morning, when he came from his toilette, dressed in a new suit of the richest and most expensive quality, painted, patched, and made up in every possible way. He placed himself before a large mirror, and indulged himself thus :-"I am handsome, young, and amiable; the women follow me, and I am healthy and rich-what on earth do I want?”—“Common sense, you rascal,” said his father (who had just entered the room) in a fury, and immediately knocked him down.'

The discipline was severe; we hope it was efficacious; but a horsewhip would have been less dangerous, and more paternal.

The first Venetian engagement came to nothing, through the failure of the manager; but, after a brief season at the Gratz

Theatre, Mr. Kelly successively performed at Brescia, which he left abruptly in consequence of an intimation that his life was in danger, Treviso, and Venice, where he was fortunate enough to be engaged at a liberal salary for the Italian Opera at Vienna. His letters of recommendation were highly respectable, and he enjoyed the privilege of mingling in the highest circles, with frequent opportunities of observing the habits and address of the Emperor Joseph, as well as those of his minister Kaunitz, and his generals, Lascy and Laudon. We shall make room for some interesting particulars respecting Mozart. Mr. Kelly was introduced to him at a concert, where • he favoured the company by performing fantasias and capriccios on the piano-forte. His feeling, the rapidity of his fingers, the great execution and strength of his left hand particularly, and the apparent inspiration of his modulations, astounded me. After this splen

did performance, we sat down to supper, and I had the pleasure to be placed at table between him and his wife, Madame Constance Weber, a German lady, of whom he was passionately fond, and by whom he had three children. He was a remarkably small man, very thin and pale, with a profusion of fine fair hair, of which he was rather vain. He gave me a cordial invitation to his house, of which I availed myself, and passed a great part of my time there. He always received me with kindness and hospitality. He was remarkably fond of punch, of which beverage I have seen him take copious draughts. He was also fond of billiards. He was kind-hearted and always ready to oblige ; but so very particular when he played, that if the slightest noise were made, he instantly left off. I remember at the first rehearsal (of the Nozze di Figaro) of the full band, Mozart was on the stage with his crimson pelisse and gold-laced cocked hat, giving the time of the music to the orchestra. Figaro's song, · Non piu andrai, farfallone amoroso,' Bennuci gave with the greatest ani. mation and power of voice. I was standing close to Mozart, who, sotlo voce, was repeating, Bravo! Bravo! Bennuci; and when Bennuci came to the fine passage, Cherubino, alla vittoria, alla gloria militar,' which he gave out with Stentorian lungs, the effect was electricity itself, for the whole of the performers on the stage, and those in the orchestra, as if actuated by one feeling of delight, vociferated Bravo! Bravo! Maestro : Viva! Viva! grande Mozart.'

We can go no further with Mr. Kelly : the greater part of his book relates to matters very much out of our way. Before we take leave, however, of our two autobiographers, we must express a wish that certain particulars of their lives had been entirely passed over. Mr. Reynolds, especially, is sometimes, to use his own phrase, gratuitously · broad.'

Art. III. Sermons. Par Charles Scholl, L'un des Pasteurs de

l'Eglise Francoise de Londres. 8vo. pp. 234. London, 1826. THE 'HE French language, so far as the voice and ear are con

cerned, is uncommonly favourable to a public speaker. The breadth and fullness of its vowel sounds, the energy of its conventional delivery, and the force and elevation with which it is usual to give the termination of sentences, are all well calculated for impression. We believe it is Mr. Payne Knight who bas contrasted the character of our popular eloquence with that of France, and referred to some such peculiarities as those which we have just mentioned, the effect produced on their hearers by the orators of the Revolution. Compare our mincing pronunciation of the words-liberty, equality, treason, vengeance-with the corresponding expressions-liberté, egalité, trahison, vengeance-in the plenitude and terminal stress of

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