The version was completed by Beza, and the tunes which were set to it by Godimel and Bourgeois, and which are extant in the old French bibles, became the national music of the Hugonots. Even Roman Catholics joined in singing them. Florimond reproaches the Protestants with their singing sacred hymns to ballad tunes, and shows that the 38th psalm is set to the tune "Mon bel ami;" to which a Latin writer of Geneva retorted, that he had heard the Magnificat sung to the tune,

"Que ne vous requinquez-vous vielle?

Que ne vous requinquez-vous donc?”

So much for the adaptation of music. We must now go on to say, that several editions of the work under review have been sold, with surprising rapidity, both in Switzerland and abroad. The lithography is well executed, and the vignettes, which serve as illuminations to the pieces, are appropriate and well conceived. The music has been revised by several of the most celebrated Swiss professors, under the supervision of the editor, M. Ferdinand Huber. He has furnished the airs throughout with accompaniments for the piano forte and the guitar. These are necessarily simple, for any indulgence in scientific refinements would be altogether incompatible with the musical dialect of Switzerland. Huber has endeavoured to avoid every thing incongruous with the national genius, and he has been the better able to accomplish this, because, by frequent excursions among the mountains where they are indigenous, he has caught the inspiration of the scene, and imbibed the enthusiasm which originated and has preserved these singular productions.

Whether we regard the touching simplicity of these airs as they affect strangers, or the wonderful impression which they make upon the Alpine herdsmen and hunters, the Ranz-des-Vaches must be considered as the most remarkable national melodies of Europe. Yet, after all the care of the artist, there is no notation which can serve to convey a genuine impression of the Kuhreihen. The organs of the native mountaineers are necessary for this, and no one of our readers who has travelled in Switzerland or the Tyrol can fail to understand us when we say, that there are tones and modulations which can be produced by none but a Swiss throat, and which are unlike any other sounds on earth. The transitions, divisions, and rapid embellishments, effected in the open throat, cannot be indicated by notes; and when the attempt is made to replace these anomalous executions by the refinements of Italian music, the whole charm of the airs, as Swiss, has evaporated. This peculiarity of organic action, by which the throat is in reality transformed into an instrument of another timbre, is called by the Swiss yodlen. To be comprehended it must be heard, and such as have heard it will readily acknowledge, that to this rather than to any consecution of notes or harmonies, are the Ranz-des-Vaches VOL. XVII.-No. 34.

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indebted for their peculiar effect. The shepherd of the Alps, accustomed to sing in the open air, and to hear his voice reverberated by mountain echoes, acquires a prodigious power, and runs through the whole gamut with a single breath. Preferring to all regular melody, those free strains which are prompted by his fancy, and to which his organs are naturally led, he abounds in variations, and even when requested, seldom repeats an air precisely as he first gave it. The place, the circumstances, the sentiment, the transient mood of his soul, all operate to alter and variegate the flood of song, and he pours forth a strain far more resembling the gush from a happy bird, than the ordinary effusions of musical accomplishment. Sometimes artifices are used, to give additional power to the voice. This is particularly true of the song of Appenzell, called the Ruguser. The performer applies his open hands to the sides of the face and throat, and in some way which we cannot explain, gives energy to the voice. In a plate of the work before us, we have a representation of this manœuvre.

From what has been said, we learn to appreciate the remark often made by Swiss amateurs, that these songs have a very inferior effect, and produce only disappointment to the ear, when performed in fashionable assemblies. They demand vigorous lungs, a deep and sonorous voice; and we may add, that their legitimate effect can take place only among their native echoes. "The traveller," says Meissner, "who collects singers in some mountain inn, for the purpose of hearing the national songs, will be apt to agree with those who pass a harsh judgment on this music. The Ranz-des-Vaches, like other airs of the Swiss peasantry, require to be heard at a certain distance, which is absolutely necessary to modify the roughness of sounds issuing with energy from a sturdy chest. However well executed, they lose their peculiar charm unless heard among the mountains. They must be sung out of the very fulness of the mountaineer's heart, as he calls his herd, or gaily carries his milk down the declivities. Ignorant of the rules of art, and guided by fancy alone, he prefers sounds which ring harmoniously through the welkin, and produce a charm which is indescribable. The imposing solitude, while it diffuses a certain melancholy over the soul, engenders a sentiment of respect for all that, like surrounding scenes, is artless and exempt from show. In such places and under such impressions must the Ranz-desVaches be heard."

These are the words of patriotic, no less than musical enthusiasm, but not without their interest on this very account. If there is any thing in them to which we could take exception, it is the impression which they leave that the airs are always airs of sadness. They strike us as being rather the buoyant issues of joyous hearts. Loud and vagrant, they express the very genius of the untrammeled Alpine shepherd. But perhaps here, as in the noted

case of the nightingale, it may depend much on the mood of the listener, whether they be set down as mirthful or pensive. Being an effusion so free and artless, the very wantonness of sound, this species of song demands that the performer be altogether at his ease, to follow every modulation which may be prompted by the condition of his organs, or the caprice of feeling. One only limit seems to be necessary, which is, that these natural variations should not recede too far from the spirit of the theme. These remarks will prepare the reader to believe, that to note down adequately the meandering sounds of the Swiss cowherds' song, were almost as hopeless a task, as to record the harmonic wailings of an Æolian harp.

Our authorities observe, that it is rare to find two mountaineers who execute the same Ranz-des-Vaches precisely in the same manner, and that females seldom do justice to their full and sonorous passages. And especially, to use the words of Ebel, "that which characterizes this national song, is the sudden transition from pectoral to guttural voice, which the inhabitants of our mountains execute with inconceivable facility and precision. No one who is destitute of this faculty, can ever execute a Ranz-des-Vaches without altering its nature."

The appropriate accompaniment of the Kuhreihen is the Alpine horn. It is likened, in shape, says Cappeler in his description of Mount Pilate, to the crozier or crook of the ancient Roman augurs, which according to Gellius was curved at the larger extremity. It is commonly made of two pieces of fir, bored throughout the whole length by a hot iron, and with an opening much resembling that of a trumpet. During the fourteenth century, it was extensively used as a speaking-trumpet, in order to indicate the approach of enemies. Those which Professor Wyss examined, were from four to five feet in length, and protected by bands of bark, and a coating of wax. They have been found twelve feet in length. "The Alp-horn," says Huber, "is an instrument which never fails to produce a fine effect, when heard at a proper distance. The sound is carried by the wind through a great extent of country, and the tones are thus softened, so as to resemble a well-played clarionet." The musical amateurs of Switzerland are making an effort to revive the common use of this national instrument, which seems to have fallen into desuetude.

The charm of the Ranz-des-Vaches has been so universally acknowledged, that, as the editor observes, some of the most eminent professors have endeavoured to analyze its mysteries, to detect the secret principle, and to reproduce it in variations. It has been commented on by Viotti, Rousseau, Turenne, Bridel, and Zwinger. Bridel, in his "Čonservateur Suisse," has the following remarks: "In the patois of the Romane Switzerland, Ranz signifies any row of objects following one another in single file. Rank in Celtic,

and Reihen in German, have the same signification. The Ranzdes-Vaches, therefore, signifies in music, the march, or row, of kine. This air, peculiar to our Alps, is of ancient date. It was originally played on the hautboy, or Alpine horn. German Switzerland has Kuhreihen, or Ranz-des-Vaches, belonging respectively to Entlibuch, Mont Pilate, Guggisberg, and the canton of Appenzell; to Emmenthal, Siebenthal, and the vale of Hasli. That of Appenzell was sent to England, in the early part of the last century, at the request of Queen Anne, and was often performed in her presence. The most complete collection is that which appeared at Berne, in 1812, under the title, 'Sammlung Schweitzer Kuhreihen und Alpenvolkslieder' (the German title of the work first mentioned at the head of this Review.) The characteristics of these national airs are, great simplicity and a melancholy tone. **** It is not in the theatre, the opera, or the concert room, that one must expect to hear the Ranz-des-Vaches. They must be listened to in the very places for which they were made; among Alpine rocks, at the door of the chalet, or amidst the herd on the lake-side; with their own native accompaniments, the brawling of the torrent, and the noise of pines swayed by the wind, which serve as a perpetual bass; the voice of echo prolonging and repeating them, the lowing of kine, and the 'carrillon' of their bells, thrown in by chance at irregular intervals. This air is of mighty effect in our lofty solitudes, and derives from Alpine scenes something mysterious and awful, especially when performed by night, on the side of some Alp over against us, when neither singers nor instruments are seen, and when the absolute silence of the hour is violated only by these simple, sad, and almost savage modulations."-"I have sometimes walked alone, towards the decline of day, in those sombre recesses, where all desire for conversation is repressed. I have there instinctively seated myself upon a rock, when on a sudden my ear-or rather my whole being-has been arrested by sounds, now lengthened out and sustained, now precipitately bold, issuing from one mountain and passing to another. It was the long Alpine horn; and a female voice mingled its pensive, sweet, and touching notes, in perfect unison."

We have introduced these characteristic sentences, not merely as description, but as actual specimens of the romantic enthusiasm with which this music is regarded by the Swiss. They will possess more of novelty to American, than to transatlantic minds, because we are so remarkably destitute of any thing analogous. It would be highly unreasonable to look for any music in our own country, which deserves to be called national. The population is heterogeneous, and ages must elapse, before the discriminating lines can be obliterated. From the several countries of Europe, to which our citizens respectively trace their origin, we have bor

rowed a few popular melodies; but those who mingle with the yeomanry need not be told, that even these are losing their currency. Popular music is not conveyed by the same channels with artificial refinements of song. While the latter emanate from the written score, the assembly, and the conservatorio, the music of the people is caught from mouth to mouth, handed from father to son, and learned by the wayside or in the shaded lawn. When we listen to catch the strains which circulate in our work-shops or public places, we are struck with the fact, that they are not in any case ancestral songs, cherished with patriotic fervour, but debased or mutilated snatches from the orchestra, learned in the gallery, and propagated among the crowd. And in the case of these, the fashion changes in due correspondence with the public rage for successive melodrames or farces.

Wherever the passion for music is so inwrought into the character of a people, that all their most sacred and controling sentiments are expressed in song, there and only there purely national music springs up. The songs of Greece are instinct with the life of liberty. The romances of the middle ages depict the scenes of chivalry. The history of the fallen Stuarts is contained in the Jacobite songs of Scotland. And in the last instance, where we have the melodies as well as the words, we find the airs perpetuated among the people. In all these cases, the national spirit breathed itself forth in music. But such is not the genius of the American people. What relics have we of the old French war? Not one. In what cherished song are the mighty achievements of the Revolution embalmed? We will not name those few bur lesque effusions, which were adopted first in scorn, and continued by caprice. During our last war, the most unromantic surely that ever was waged, several clever song-writers engaged the public attention, and produced naval ditties, sportive, and for a time in use, but now absolutely forgotten. Is there a single melody attached to favourite words, which we can trace from cottage to cottage, or whose echoes come to us from the lake or the mountain? Do the boatmen on our mighty streams solace their weary hours by oft-repeated strains of the olden time? The answers to these questions may prepare the reader not to be startled at the position, that we have no national music. In polished circles, indeed, no one of the fine arts has been more happily cultivated; but this is a matter of another sphere. These influences, beneficial to a certain extent, are actually destructive of the popular idiom. By scientific culture we gain a mastery of the conventional and subtle, the xown diáλextos of music; but in the same degree we lose the rugged but penetrating characteristics of national melody.

National music is the offspring of national feeling. As a social luxury, it springs up where strong feeling is expressed in society. Its tones do not proceed from the hermitage or the cell, but from