His territories in his life-time, were subsequently very anxious to recover his remains, but the Papal government would never give them up on his actual tomb are engraved the words-Parvi Florentia, mater amoris -expressions attributed to Dante himself. banishment was incurred by his inflexible adherence to the Ghibelline party, one of the great political factions which then agitated the republic: during his life-time the opposite faction of Guelphs had constantly the upper hand. At one time he was condemned to be burnt alive if he should attempt to return. The present cenotaph, executed by Ricci, is surmounted by a somewhat colossal statue of the great poet, crowned with laurel, and supported by weeping figures, emblematic of Italy and Poetry. The tomb of Michael Angelo is graced with a bust said to be a perfect resemblance of the eminent man whose dust it encloses; beneath are figures of the sister arts, Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture, in all which he excelled. Michael Angelo was born at Florence, and when apprenticed to the painter Ghirlandajo, visited the collection of objects of art in the Casa Medici, which, by the liberality of its possessor, was then generally open to artists and amateurs ; here, when working on the head of a friar, he was observed by Lorenzo Medici, surnamed "the Magnificent," who took him under his protection, and fostered a genius the most daring, the most original, and perhaps the grandest, that Italy has produced. On the tomb of Machiavelli rests a figure emblematic of Politics and History, the branches of literature to which he was devoted. The object of his treatise entitled "The Prince, or Instructions to an absolute Monarch," is much contested, and the term Machiavelism is generally applied to political hypocrisy; but the better opinion seems to be, that, in pointing out the only way in which a tyrant could govern, he wished to expose the evils of despotism. Galileo*, the inventor of the telescope, the discoverer of the satellites of Jupiter, the confirmer and expounder of the Copernican System, (viz., that the earth is not stationary, but revolves round the sun,) was for these crimes imprisoned and condemned to death; he only escaped by retracting publicly, and on his knees, the heresy of truth. His bust, exhibiting a finely developed head, adorns his sepulchre; on either side is a figure of Astronomy and Geometry; a long inscription records his discoveries. Its Santa Croce covers the remains of many others of the distinguished of Italy. The chapels are ornamented with sculpture by some of the first masters. The body of the church is a plain spacious Gothic plain spacious Gothic structure, the roof supported by naked rafters. pavement has probably been more trodden on by the gifted and illustrious of modern times, than any other spot on the surface of our planet; such, from all parts of the civilized world, converge to this focus, to pay a tribute of admiration and respect to the memory of kindred spirits. G. * See Saturday Magazine, Vol. II. p. 59. RECREATIONS IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. No. VII. ON FALLING BODIES. WHEN a child begins to play with its toys, it soon learns by practical experience, that the ball or the rattle, falling from its hand, descends to the floor, or, at least, to a lower station than the hand. If the ball ascended towards the ceiling, instead of descending to the floor, the child would not mark it as extraordinary, since it has, in the outset of its expe rience, no reason to believe that the ball would choose one path in preference to the other. The child finds, however, that the floor of the room becomes the general receptacle of bodies falling from the hand or from the table. When the child becomes a schoolboy, he knows that the universal light-artillery of the boy, namely, stones, on being hurled into the air, descend again to the earth: he knows, also, that if the branch of a tree, on which he has ventured, in the unfeeling and cruel pursuit of nestrobbery, should break, that the earth would receive him with him unkindly concussion. All his experience, in short, as a child, a boy, and a man, convince him that bodies, when free to move, have a general tendency to fall downwards, and not upwards. It may appear absurd to talk of a body falling upwards; but the absurdity is only apparent; for we find that many bodies move upwards with considerable velocity: smoke, vapour, steam, air and fire-balloons, &c. This, however, is a subject which will engage our attention in a future article; our present object being to inquire why it is that bodies fall to the earth, and the general laws which regulate such fall. Every body which falls to the earth is an example of a species of attraction, called gravitation; and this attraction operates also among large masses of matter placed at a remote distance from each other, with a force proportioned to the quantity of matter contained in such bodies, and the distance between them. But the attraction of the earth for all bodies placed upon its surface, is so much stronger than their attraction for the earth and for each other, that the latter attraction is absolutely inappreciable by all ordinary modes of observation. Although two stones falling to the earth, not only attract each other, but attract the earth also in a small degree, they are attracted with so much greater force by the earth, that we cannot appreciate any other kind of attraction than that which results from gravitation. The great Newton discovered and established the law of universal gravitation, "that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle, with a force varying inversely as the square of the distance" by which is meant, that if a body be attracted by the earth for example, with a certain force, and be afterwards removed to twice that distance, it will be attracted not half as much, but only one-fourth as much as it was at first; and if removed to three times the distance, it will be attracted only one-ninth as much as at first; a number multiplied by itself is the square of that number; thus, four is the square of two, nine is the square of three, and so on. We may, therefore, probably suppose, that if a stone were allowed to fall down a precipice by the side of a mountain, that its motion would be directed towards the mountain itself, and not to the earth: or we may go further, and inquire why it is, if one body attracts another, that houses do not move towards each other, or set out on an excursion to some large mountain in their vicinity. Now, we have already said, that gravitation acts with a force proportionate to the quantity of matter, and since no body on the earth contains so much matter as the earth itself, the attraction of the latter predominates over that of all other bodies placed upon it. Houses are fixed to the earth so strongly by their gravity, that neither can other houses, nor the mountain, move them from their position; but that the attraction of a mountain affects the perpendicular attraction of the earth, has actually been found by direct experiment. A plumb line suspended at the side of part of the mountain chain of Chimborazo, in Peru, indicated a deviation from the perpendicular of 7" or 8", due to the attraction of the mountain. Another experiment made by Maskelyne on the attraction of Schechallien, a mountain in Scotland, indicated a deviation of 54". But the most accurate and celebrated experiments on this subject were instituted by Cavendish, which we will shortly notice, since the subject is as important as it is curious and instructive. This distinguished observer imagined, that the attraction of matter for matter could be palpably shown, by having a long thin rod with small balls at each end, (as shown in fig. 1,) accurately balanced in a horizontal Fig. 1. position by a fine thread attached to the middle point, as at f. This lever, it was imagined, would oscillate backwards and forwards horizontally, by the attraction of two very large balls brought near its ends on opposite sides. These balls, ss', were of lead, and were brought near the small balls when the lever was perfectly at rest, and on opposite sides, in order that the effect of each might be to move the lever in the same direction. In this state the lever was set in motion by the attraction of the balls alone, and continued oscillating so long as the large balls of lead were near the small balls. The whole apparatus was enclosed in a room without doors and windows, in order to prevent disturbance from currents of air, &c., the room was illuminated by means of a lantern, E, and the observations made through the telescope below it. By means of this apparatus, Cavendish was enabled to learn the exact weight of the earth; he used it, in fact, as a pair of scales in which he weighed the world. We do not pretend to assign any reason why masses of matter attract each other: this is altogether an inexplicable subject, but the laws which regulate such attraction are now well understood. We see the operation of this attraction on a grand scale in nature. The moon is a mass of matter about one-fourth the diameter of the earth, and her attraction is made manifest to us by the phenomena of the tides, which are occasioned by a portion of the waters of the ocean being drawn together at one place, as the moon is passing round the earth; the elevated bulk of water travelling round the earth as the moon travels. If a body very much larger than the earth were placed at a distance from it, the earth would move towards that body with more impelling force than the latter would move towards the former. Such is the case with the sun, whose diameter is a hundred times greater than that of the earth; and the earth is only prevented from falling on the sun, by the revolving motion which she has round him. As a few familar illustrations of the attraction of matter for matter, we may notice logs of wood floating in a pond, or ships in still water, or corks, or other light bodies in a vessel of water; they move towards each other and remain in contact; the wreck of a ship in a smooth sea, after a storm, is often seen collected in large heaps. When we speak of a body being heavy, or possessing a great weight, we merely indicate the attraction of the earth for such body. If an iron ball, of a thousand pounds' weight were the only mass of matter in the universe, it would weigh nothing; since there would be nothing to attract it, so as to constitute its weight. By removing such ball from the earth in a balloon, we may prove experimentally by means of a spring-balance, that its weight diminishes in proportion as we recede from the earth. Indeed, astronomers have proved that a thousand-pound ball, if removed from the earth to the distance of the moon, would be diminished to five ounces: that is, the earth would attract such ball with a force of five ounces only, which would be called its weight. When bodies fall to the earth, the first thing that strikes our attention is the great disparity between the rates of their descent. A leaden ball falls very quickly, and the autumnal leaf slowly, and we generally say, as a reason, that the leaden ball is very heavy, and the leaf very light. But this is not the reason. A sheet of thin paper falls more slowly than if such sheet be rolled up, so as to make a paper ball. It is evident in such case that the weight remains the same, although the time occupied in the descent varies greatly. Now there is another force, which we have not yet considered, which opposes the attraction of gravitation, and that is, the atmospheric air: this retards the descent of falling bodies, and the more so in proportion to the extent of surface which such bodies present to its action. If the air be removed, all bodies fall to the earth with precisely the same velocity. There is a beautiful experiment which is shown by means of the air-pump. The air is removed from a tall glass vessel; a coin and a small feather, placed upon a moveable stage at the top, are allowed to fall at precisely the same instant, and they reach the bottom of the vessel together. In fact, in vacuo, a cannon-ball of a hundred pounds' weight would fall no quicker than a piece of paper; and a mountain would descend no quicker than a feather. reader may try a simpler experiment for himself. A piece of paper, of the same size as a penny-piece will fall more slowly through the air than the coin; but if the paper be placed close upon the coin, the latter will prevent the air from retarding the descent of the paper, and so both will reach the ground together. The Since bodies fall with the same velocity, let us now inquire into the degree of rapidity with which they fall: that is, what relation exists between the space through which a body falls, and the time which it employs in falling. It must be evident to the reader, that if any force which sets a body in motion ceases not to exert itself at the moment when the body begins to move, but continues in constant operation, that the motion of such body cannot be uniform, but goes on moving quicker and quicker every moment. A body is moving much faster towards the end than at the beginning of its fall. If we allow a ball to fall from the hand, we can catch it the first instant; but in a very little time it moves too quickly to be overtaken. We may leap from a chair or a table without injury; but a fall from the top of a house would fracture the limbs, because during the descent such a velocity is acquired that the earth is struck with great force. The force, indeed, with which a body reaches the ground is composed of all the forces which the body received during every instant of its descent. Now it has been ascertained that a body falls through 16, feet during the first second of time of its descent; three times that distance in the next second, five times that distance in the third, and so on, according to the odd numbers 7, 9, &c. If a stone be allowed Making the depth equal to . . . 576 feet. But this process can be shortened by the following rule:-Multiply the number of seconds by itself, and the product by 16; thus, in the above example, 6 x 6 = 36, and 36 × 16 = 576 feet. It will be interesting to the reader, to know the means by which this important law was discovered. Fig. 2 is a representation of Mr. Atwood's machine; a contrivance by which the motion of falling bodies may be retarded to any desired extent, without otherwise altering the character of the motion. In Fig. 2 we have a wheel swinging on its axle, with very little friction, with a groove at its edge to receive a string; to this string equal weights, mn, were attached, so that balancing each other no motion results. To one of the weights, m, an additional weight was added, so as to make it preponderate slightly; the loaded weight would, therefore, descend and draw up on the other side the unloaded weight. The descent of the loaded weight, in such case, was found to be a motion of precisely the same kind as the descent of a body falling freely by the full force of gravity. Fig. 2. mà mà In order that the circumstances of the descent might be better observed, the wheels a, (the construction of which is shown in a separate part of the figure,) were mounted upon a pillar, P, which is divided to inches and halves; a pendulum, R, vibrating seconds, forms part of the apparatus. The weight, m, may also, by this arrangement, continue loaded during a portion only of its descent, by placing upon it one of the slips of metal shown in the figure: the weight, in falling through the ring near P, leaves upon such ring the metal slip, and continues to descend by virtue of its acquired velocity. As an easy illustration of the value of this machine, let us suppose m n to be weights of two pounds each, balancing each other, and that to m a weight of one ONE of the great objects of music is to appeal to the imagination by a resemblance, more or less perfect, of the human voice, in all its various modulations and inflections, whether under the influence of poetry, and the sentiments generally, or of the intellect, the passions, the tastes and the feelings. Accordingly we find that the impression which music produces on different individuals, is greatly modified by the constitution of that individual's mind. A person of a poetical temperament, associates with a beautiful air some of the most charming results of the muse. Music, though not martial, reminds the soldier of the camp. The pure mind of devotion also connects with music some of its brightest associations; and the mind, under the influence of hope or melancholy, associates words with the beautiful harmonies of a well-appointed band of instrumental performers. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch the strain prolong, HISTORY OF THE VIOLIN. And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She called on Echo still through all the song; And when her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair. With eyes up-raised, as one inspired Pale Melancholy sat retired, And from her wild sequestered seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul: And dashing soft from rocks around Bubbling runnels joined the sound; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole : Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O, how altered was its sprightlier tone, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to faun and dryad known: The oak-crowned sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear, And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear. We have given a copious extract from Collins's enchanting ode, because the whole poem shows so eloquently the real influence of music on the human mind. A poet of a kindred genius says, The soul of music slumbers in the shell, There is probably no instrument which imitates the human voice, or appeals to human sympathies so well as the violin. Its variety of tones, delicacy of execution and brilliancy, have assigned it an important station among Cardinal Maffei, in his treatise on ancient inscriptions and medals, published in the middle of the sixteenth century, represents a medal of Orpheus playing with a bow, upon an instrument resembling the violin, but which was called the lyre. The ancient Jews had instruments resembling the Violin, called the nublium and psalterium. Euphorion also describes an ancient instrument called magadis, which was surrounded with strings attached to a moveable pivot, and played with a bow. A similar instrument is described under the name sambuce. In Valerian's Hieroglyphics is a figure of a muse with a bass-viol in her hand. Philostratus thus describes the lyre of Orpheus:" He supported the lyre against his left leg, and beat time by striking his foot on the ground; in his right hand he held the bow which he drew across the strings, turning his wrist slightly inwards; he touched the strings with his left hand, keeping the knuckles straight." This mode of playing has been witnessed by the writer on the Continent, within a few years; and the description of Philostratus will evidently apply to the modern viol-di-gamba, so called from the Italian word gamba, the leg, which serves to support the instrument. The word plectrum applies to the ancient violin-bow, but it is now uncertain whether the bow was not used merely to strike the strings. In the middle ages we find various descriptions of violins. The troubadours, and the minne, or love singers, were often called violleurs. This instrument was also in high repute in the monasteries, where there are still preserved cases of violins, violas, and lutes, beautifully ornamented with ivory, gold, and silver. Dubourg, Clegg, and the two Pintos, appeared as first-rate Violinists during the last century, at which we pause, for it would occupy us too much to mention even the names of the talented individuals of the present century, who have successfully cultivated this beautiful and difficult instrument. In a second short article, we propose to say a few words on the construction of the instrument. THE PASSING BELL. Or those who will read these pages, there are few probably that have not felt at some period of their lives, the emotions naturally awakened by the Passing Bell; few that can have listened to.its slowly-repeated intonations, at any hour of the day, but more especially when the shades of evening are gathering thickly around them, without having been seriously affected by its solemn and melancholy accents. The deep low vibrations of that well-known knell, not merely when falling heavily on the ear from the neighbouring bell-tower, but even when wafted in softer tones from a distance, speak a language which seldom fails to meet with a ready response in the recesses of the human breast. But possibly it is in the lengthened pauses which, on a principle, exquisitely in character with the solemnity of the occasion, are permitted to elapse between each sound, and which seem to tell us that the bell labours to be vocal, and with difficulty finds itself a tongue, that we discover the peculiar influence by which the heart is moved. The original intention of the Passing Bell is now nearly forgotten. It appears to have been, to announce to a neighbourhood, in which a particular individual lay sick, the period when the soul was, as it were, passing out of the body. It told of the moments of man's last trial-it might be, of the mortal agony, the throes and struggles, which often constitute the "pains of death;" and consequently, as long as the sufferer lay thus in extremities, so long was the knell sounded. The peculiar purpose for which this announcement was made to the surrounding parishioners, was, that the dying person might have the benefit of their prayers in this most awful crisis of his existence. That this was the original design of the Passing Bell, is implied in its very name. It is also fully confirmed by the light thrown on the subject by those who have studied the history of the usage. In a poem of an early English poet, named Heywood, there are these allusions to the use of the bell in his day: Come list; hark, the bell doth towle For hark, hark still, the bell doth towle The Violin owes its modern shape to a series of gradual changes effected through the taste or caprice of a succession of eminent performers. Arcangelo Corelli, a native of Bologna, is considered as the father of fine violin players. He was the founder of what is called the Roman school. He died at the age of sixty, in January 1713. The celebrated Tartini was born of a noble Venetian family. He was first violin-master of the church of St. Anthony in Padua, and died in 1770. The Violin was greatly cultivated in Germany during the last two centuries. In France this favourite and national instrument was introduced to general notice by the Italian, Baltazarini, who was sent by Marshal Brissac to Catherine de Medicis. Lully was in high repute in the time of Louis the Fourteenth, about the year 1652. And again— The French Conservatoire has furnished France with numerous brilliant performers. In England the Violin became popular at the Restoration. Charles the Second had a band of violin tenors and basses, the leader of which was the Swede Baltzar, the first violinist of his time. The Englishman, Banister, succeeded Baltzar; but towards the end of Charles's reign, the Italian, Nicolas Matteis, arrived in England, and completely eclipsed all former players; his style of bowing and his shakes are said to have been remarkably beautiful. Francisco Geminiani, born at Lucca about 1666, a pupil of Corelli, and leader of the orchestra at Naples, was a great improver of the style of playing. Veracini, a fine player, and a good composer, appeared in London in 1715. followed by Giardini in 1750, who astonished the English public by the elegance of his bowing, his chaste and correct embellishments, and his extempore variations of popular airs. Cramer, Corbett, He was It is then, as announcing the last moments of a dying person, that the sounding of the bell is here represented. And further, Dr. Zouch is quoted, as calling the Passing Bell the " soul-bell," and as expressly saying that it was tolled before the departure of the soul, by way of signal for good men to offer up prayers on its behalf. It is clear, moreover, that the same view was recognised and sanctioned by authority, at a distant period, in the church of England. This appears from the following passage, which occurred in a set of Questions, addressed at a bishop's visitation to his clergy:-" In the mean while, is there a Passing Bell tolled, that they who are in the immediate hearing of it may be moved, in their private devotions, to recommend the state of the departing soul unto the hands of the Redeemer?" We are told also, that in the writings of our older poets there are many allusions to the peculiar object of tnis pious custom. I Amongst these the excellent Donne says, in admirable agreement with the observations just offered,Prayers ascend To heaven in troops, at a good man's passing-bell. Yes; christians of old were fully persuaded of the efficacy of prayer; and whenever and wherever the Passing Bell was heard Swinging slow, with solemn roar, "it was not unreasonably or uncharitably presumed that such prayers of the living, at that time, might be of service to the dying; or that, in this particular district, some one might be found, deserving of the name of Christian, who could not grudge a fellow Christian, a brother or a sister in Jesus Christ, while contending with the infirmities of his last sickness, or even in the hour of death, the benefit of his prayers and intercessions at the Throne of Grace." And surely there is something very beautiful in the usage of all the inhabitants of a whole parish or district being invited to unite together in showing an affectionate interest in the "soul's health" of a sick and dying brother, by praying for his spiritual comfort and support in his final trial; interceding more especially that, as our Church expresses it, the Almighty "may not suffer him, in his last hour, for any pains of death to fall from him." Let us consider well how much was understood in this Christian practice. It took for granted the existence of such a spirit of mutual kindness and good-will amongst Christians, one towards another, of such a reciprocity of purely Christian feelings in the neighbourhood or district in question, that should a fellow parishioner be now situated in the way described, when their prayers might help and assist him in his mortal struggle, actuated by the hallowed impulse of Christian friendship, full of this kindness, tenderness and sympathy for a brother Christian, they would willingly and cheerfully render to him this spiritual service; that, roused to attention, and admonished of his critical situation, their prayers would mingle with his own perhaps scarcely articulated aspirations, and, from the silence and privacy of their own dwellings, would ascend to the mercy-seat on high; entreating God graciously to be pleased to succour his suffering, his tempted, his dying servant, to be with him in his passage through the valley of the shadow of death, and to grant that his soul, when the hour of its final separation was come, might be numbered amongst those of the ransomed and redeemed for ever. Most accordant with these remarks are the observations of the good Bishop Hall, which occur in one of his Occasional Meditations. Well, indeed, did he know how to give a practical turn to the instructions to be derived from that solemn sound! UPON THE TOLLING OF THE PASSING BELL. How doleful and heavy is this summons of death! This sound is not for our ears, but for our hearts; it calls us not only to our prayers, but to our preparation; to our prayers for the departing soul-to our preparation for our own departing. We have never so much need of prayers as in our last combat; then is our great adversary most eager; then are we weakest; then nature is so over-laboured that it gives us not leisure to make use of gracious motions. There is no preparation so necessary as for this conflict: all our life is little enough to make ready for our last hour. What am I better than my neighbours? How oft hath this bell reported to me the farewell of many more strong and vigorous bodies than my own-of many more cheerful and lively spirits? And now what doth it but call me to the thought of my parting? There is no abiding for me; I must away too. Oh, Thou that art the God of comfort, help thy poor servant that is now struggling with his last enemy. His sad friends stand gazing upon him, and weeping over him, but they cannot succour him: needs must they leave him to do this great work alone; none but Thou, to whom belong the issues of death, canst relieve his distressed and over-matched soul. And for me, let no man die without me, as I die daily, so teach me to die once; acquaint me beforehand with that Messenger, which I must trust to. Oh! teach me so to number my days, that I may apply my heart to true wisdom. D. Í. E. THE PASSING BELL. Stop, O stop the Passing Bell! It strikes against the heart, that knell; All that soothed and sweetened life She hath left her couch of pain; Let the joyful chimes ring on.— -ROBERT STORY. [From the Sunday Reader.] A BRITISH SAILOR'S PRAISE OF THE SEA. 'Tis beautiful o'er grassy plain To watch the racer's pride, When white foam covers bit and rein But, O! it is than courser's race More beautiful by far, Swift o'er the waves to speed the chase 'Tis sweet to hear the village bells Or list, when evening curfew swells, Bright eyes with rapture glancing See village maidens dancing. In summer round the moonlit-bark The rippling waves, that, as they glance, [The Rubi, a Tale of the Sea. |