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[Paris Correspondent of the New York Tribune.] The first representation of the Juif Errant, by Halévy, took place at the Grand Opera on Friday evening last. The musical critics are pretending to be unwell, thus deferring their reports until they can have heard the production some half a dozen times, without which it is impossible to pass a conscientious judgment upon it. The ticket offices were not open, every place having been long since disposed of. Pit seats were negotiated in the street at fifty francs, and boxes of four places brought 300 francs at 7 o'clock. The President was there, but so deeply buried in his box that few but the artists were aware of his presence. The performance was over at precisely half-past one, the machinery being a little stiff and the intermissions as long as the acts. The Opera had spent such fabulous sums upon the scenery of M. Halévy's partition, that it would have been ruined had the play been damned. Happily, a success which promises to be as durable as the Prophète has saved the treasury from being collapsed. The scenic art has never been carried to such lengths as in this opera. The Enfant Prodigue gave us a view of the glories of Heaven; the Wandering Jew opens the gates of Hell, and shows us the fiery furnace and the tortures of the damned. The crust of the earth seems to peel and shrivel away at the clang of the last trump; the weary march of the way-worn Israelite comes to an end with the close of earth; the graves give their dead, and from every nook and corner up rise, in their shrouds and winding-sheets, the hosts that have slept under the sod, waiting for the judgment-day; in the flaming caldron are imps turning head over heels, and the underlings of Satan tossing up and impaling on pitchforks the miserable sinners that had been "tried and found wanting;" over and above all are the lyres and the raptures of just men made perfect and the bliss and happiness of Paradise Regained. The Old Testament tradition of the final apportionment of woe everlasting to about ninety-nine hundredths of the human race were so marvelously and so frightfully realized, that when I woke up the next morning, and found I was still alive, I was considerably incredulous, and imagined it to be an illusion of the Evil one; but I have got over that since I have been writing this letter. I can say nothing of M. Halévy's music; it is altogether too scientific and recherché to be properly appreciated at a single hearing. In case I become qualified, by frequent attendance, to speak with a clearer comprehension of the subject, you may rest assured that I shall do so.

MUSICIANS IN NEW YORK. It is said that there are two thousand six hundred and eightyfive persons, male and female, in this city, that live by their musical labors. Some teach vocal music; some teach instrumental music; some sing; some play the piano; some fiddle; some give concerts; some sing in church; some sing in opera; some sing in both church and opera; some play the bugle, flute, haughtboy, French horn, cornet á piston, opheiclide, banjo, bass drum, kettle drum, tenor drum, triangle, cymbals, fife, violoncello, clarionet, flageolet, guitar, melodeon, organ, tamborine, trombone, or other noisy instrument; and all of them blow their own trumpets.— Mus. World.

In the third act of the new play of Benvenuto Cellini, Melingue, who is as good a sculptor |

as he is a comedian, makes a plaster statuette of one of the female characters. This he does under the eye of the spectators, and while carrying on his share of the action and the dialogue. Such has become the demand for these specimens of this favorite actor's skill, that they are sold after the performance, by auction, in the saloon of the theatre, and bring much higher prices than they are worth as mere works of art. Every one desires to possess a model made under such curious circumstances, and M. Melingue is at present a dangerous rival to Clevenger and Pradier.-Paris Cor. N. Y. Tribune.

Correspondence.

Music in New York.

[Received too late for insertion last week.]

The Germans certainly bring us a great deal We for all the advantages they derive from us. owe to them what musical cultivation we have, and although the pleasant times have not yet arrived in which, as in the father-land, we sit in Summer gardens or Winter cafés and listen to the best music which the best genius has written, yet the concerts under German auspices become yearly more popular and delightful, and those who love music, not because it is fashionable, or the opera an agreeable resort, but because they have the same pleasure in it that birds have in the sun-light, they follow the call of Eisfeld and the Philharmonic, and are very well content to be scouted as "classical" and "pedantic."

Treating of German matters you see I fall into the German manner. Do you remember, in learning German, those breathless and balking chases of prolonged and involved sentences up and down and over the pages, with dictionary and grammar in hand, like a leash of hounds to hunt down the quarry? Ichabod Crane had a limber switch with which he "helped "his" young friends," as Dr. Birch called his pupils, "over the tall words." What work and incessant "helping" Ichabod Crane would have had in teaching German!

I have not written you of EISFELD's delightful Quartet Soirées, but have only referred to them. They have been very excellent. EICHORN, with his trusty violoncello, NOLL, with his enthusiastic violin, the elegant TIMм, the appreciative SCHARFENBERG, and others whom you know, whom we know, and whom we all like to know, have assisted in these concerts. There have been singers too: Mrs. WATSON, and a raven-haired Miss WHEELOCK, lesser birds, but sweet in their way, and who, marvellous to say, do not undertake what they cannot do. Mr. Eisfeld commenced his chamber concerts last Winter at Hope Chapel. There are two halls of that name opposite the New York Hotel-Hope Chapel the greater, and Hope Chapel the less; the latter being a low, bare, dismal room under the other, and corresponding to a vestry. It was an odd place for such select concerts. But they succeeded admirably; the choice circle of "classics" and "pedants" was always gathered together, in Hope Chapel the less-or Hopeless Chapel as it more properly looks- and this season Mr. Eisfeld has taken the Apollo rooms, whose antecedents are musically good for there were held the first Philharmonic concerts.

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He has culled for us the best of Beethoven's, Haydn's, Mozart's, Spohr's and Mendelssohn's

chamber compositions, and they have been played to an audience that truly enjoyed them. Of course it is not a "Native American" audience, for all your neighbors are sure to speak German, and you mark the well-known characteristics of their features; and if you could only summon the Kellner, and order ein brocken brod and ein glas bier, you would be far away from the Apollo and lost in an anonymous Lokal. The last concert on Saturday, the 8th of May, was as good in kind as any I remember. It ranks with Jenny Lind's and the best Philharmonic. The charm of the evening was Beethoven's Septette, whose rich, ripe, mellow character, held all the performers to sympathy of feeling not less than truth of tone. Yet sometimes that wild, impulsive violin of Noll's would break a little, like an over mettlesome horse in trotting, but scarcely ever injurious to the general effect, because it served only to sharpen your apprehension of his enthusiasm for the music. Noll and his violin always seem to me like a fiery horse and a fiery rider. They excite each other. They dart, and sweep, and run, rejoicing in themselves and in the race, - not without gentle

movements, also.

How masterly this Septette is! How full of the majestic facility of genius in its prime. It varies through the different movements with a fertility of invention, and a singular clearness of expression; as if, I mean, the composer had found no difficulty in conveying his intention. There is nothing cloudy or gloomily grand, in it, none of the misty Alpine peaks that rise defyingly along the usual range of his mountainous music. But the airs are so melodious, the movements so transparent, that it reminds you of the sunny ease of Mozart, or of his own Pastoral Symphony, although without any feeling of superficiality.

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"But what is it all about?" inquired my well meaning friend Quidnunc, who has no ear for music, who, in his own words "knows nothing about music, not a bit, but is sure of what pleases him." This last, of course, he said with an air implying that whatever does not please him, is not pleasant, and that it is mere affectation, classicality," and "pedantry," to profess pleasure in it.

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What do you say to this style of remark?

I asked Quidnunc in reply, what the sunshine was all about, what the beauty of a statue or a picture was about, &c. And Quidnunc looked at me silently and sadly, as if convinced that I was, pro tempore, out of my head.

A Trio of Mendelssohn's was played upon the piano by Scharfenberg, with violin and violoncello. It was interrupted by the snapping of a string in the violoncello. But, like most of Mendelssohn's Concertos which I, at the moment, recall, it wanted the glow of genius, the permeating sense of music, rather than of science. The refinement, the feeling, the ripeness, the skill,— these I always feel in Mendelssohn, and often as in the Lieder ohne Worte, the overtures and parts of the oratorios, a beauty which is quite inexpressible. Yet, if I read upon the bill a Concerto of his, I am not kindled with expectation, but rather with curiosity. I know it will be good. But will it be irresistible? Will it bear me along with itself, or leave me, only longing to be borne, upon the bank? Don't suspect me of the slightest treachery to Mendelssohn - but I do find a good deal of his music uninteresting.

They played the Russian Hymn with Veit's variations, and it was religiously done. I have never heard a more perfect performance than the delivery of the melody. It was entirely simple, but it was pleading and pathetic beyond words. In music of a Northern inspiration there is a strange wildnesss, - a masculine grief, but utterly hopeless, as of old Norse Kings. You remember Landseer's Reindeer standing upon the shore and looking across the cold dark water to the snowy silence of the mountains. There is no hint of Summer or of softness in the picture, but its pathos is fascinating and profound. It is the same that there is in this Russian Hymn, and in the northern songs of Jenny Lind - which are as far from clap-trap as Vedrai Carino.

Last of all we had Haydn's Quartet in G major, which well ended this delightful series of concerts. The Adagio Religioso, so tranquil, so solemn, so sweet, was given with that feeling and fidelity of which you would be sure with these gentlemen. You can no longer pride yourself, in Boston, upon monopolizing the finest music in the finest kind. Your withers are wrung. With the Philharmonic and Eisfeld, we yield the field

to none.

Beside this exquisite evening, we have had little of note in matters musical. A complimentary concert to a very deserving artist- the Contra-bassist CASOLANI-filled Niblo's saloon one evening and deployed a host of various talent. I agree with my friend of the "Musical Times," that Dodworth's Band's performance was the most pleasing. He properly calls it a serenadeband; and the mellow, liquid, consenting sweetness of the effect well justifies the name. Summer moonlights under the balconies of innumerable Queens of Beauty, are necessarily figured in imagination, as the soft, long notes of the wind instruments float out. The rest of the performance was fair. Young BRAHAM sang several of his English ballad-songs with good effect. But Madame BOUCHELLE-forgetting who had sung before her, and how-ventured upon Casta Diva. Madame Bouchelle is not equal to Casta Diva. It is a very remarkable fact, if she does not know it; and if she does, her singing it is the more remarkable. It is to be said, however, that she was disappointed in the presence of an artist who was to assist her, and was therefore obliged to substitute the Aria for the song allotted her. But it was a great error of judgment to select Casta Diva.

There was also a concert at Metropolitan Hall, to introduce the " Plus-Harp Guitar or Bewitcher." You can fancy what it was. Some Andalusian musical enthusiast — it is plain to see that has fitted a series of additional strings to the Guitar, having the general quality of harpstrings, and the effect is a mingled sound of the two instruments. In such a hall, of course, as in the open air, it had neither richness nor power, but only a faint tinkle. The inventor, Senor Gallageos, played a dreamy, monotonous composition, of which the effect was rather that of the wind sweeping through an Eolian Harp, than of any melody. Little ADELINA PATTI, who has also just sung at the Lyceum Theatre, sang Jenny Lind's Echo-Song, and Ah! non giunge. She is only nine years old, but her cultivation is quite remarkable, and her voice, although pleasantly child-like in tone, is sweet and easily fills that great hall. It is a pity she is to sing in a

theatre. She will be stung by the frenzied desire of applause, which will do much to ruin her as an artist. I never see a prodigy of this kind, who is really interesting as little Patti is, without remembering the young Mozart, and that whom the gods love, die young; or grow old, faded and forgotten, which is worse. HAFIZ.

Music.

we have heard her, as a new revelation of higher and higher and hitherto unappreciated excellence. To things so perfect, as to the beauties of the earth and skies, of day and night, the soul only opens continually, the progress being in the perceiver and not in the thing perceived.

At eight o'clock Mr. EISFELD took his stand at the head of his orchestra of eighty, comprising the sixty of the noble "Philharmonic," and with

Dwight's Journal of Alair. the wave of his baton came the full, strong, solemn,

BOSTON, MAY 22, 1852.

[Editorial Correspondence.]

NEW YORK, May 19th. Madame Otto Goldschmidt's Concert. The charm of that voice and soul and art has not gone. It has lost nothing, but really gained in power; at least, it is more felt than ever. Metropolitan (late Tripler) Hall, last night, was thronged, as at its first opening and tuneful consecration: a brilliant, eager, enthusiastic throng. There was perhaps a more entire, unanimous, unflagging warmth of reception, (outwardly expressed) in those last concerts in our little Melodeon. But an assembly of three or four thousand must be more heterogeneous, and comprise more coldly curious, more inappreciative auditors, than one of twelve hundred. Again, here the visible splendor and vast sweep of the hall itself comes in for too great a share in the impression of every thing performed therein; it presents indeed a brilliant scene; but too brilliant, too glaring and distracting, and finally (with the added drawback of close air and the heat of so many gas burners) fatiguing and stupifying to the musical and every other sense. It is encouraging that an artist of fine tact in such matters, has made a careful study of coloring for the interior of our new Boston Music Hall, so that it shall be at once rich, harmonious and subdued. Moreover, the great singer's lower notes were somewhat veiled by a cold which she had taken in the head, a day or two before, so that, at first, we could not always catch the completion of a low strain or phrase with all that distinctness, to which we had been used in the Lind. The higher tones, however, always come out smooth, bright and triumphant, and before the unfailing art and fervor of the singer, such an obstacle (seemingly at least) soon melts utterly away.

Now, we have named all the drawbacks, we believe, — all the things that threw any slightest shade of a shadow, doubt or chill across the heavenly-warm and luminous sphere of that glorious hour. In spite of the complaints we heard, afterwards, about the louder kind of applause not seeming to come quite up to the occasion - (hook enough, no doubt, for the wilfully critical to hang a hope upon! though the complaint really indicated that more was felt by each among the audience than could be satisfied by the combined power of applause in all;) still, this was a complete renewal of the great triumphs of Jenny Lind; all the greater, that she is now so much more generally appreciated and understood. There was in the audience more of the quiet, thoughtfully receptive, than of the inflammatory mood; and the true artist sings to that with deeper satisfaction. To us, (and we know it was so with most of the earnest friends of music) each effort of her art last night surprised us, much as

minor chord the key-note of general gloom and apprehension - which the wonderful overopens ture to Egmont. We never heard it given with a breadth and passionate emphasis so true to this sombre and gigantic conception of Beethoven. It made a grand, cloudy background for the beauteous anticipations of the evening; a summer cloud, big with the advent of the Queen of May and of all the melody of birds and human hearts. Signor BADIALI exerted and acquitted himself worthily of the occasion in the tender Romanza from Maria di Rudenz; his mature and manly tones never filled a hall more satisfactorily, and his style was finished, chaste and eloquent. Indeed, throughout the evening, the Signor kept free both from those stereotyped common-place cadenzas, which have so often seemed not to belong to him, as well as from the stunning detonation in which his strong lungs would sometimes indulge. It was a performance duly tempered to the hour, which was her Majesty's, the sovereign Queen of Song; it was, on his part, all we could desire.

Wild outbursts of applause at length greeted Madame GOLDSCHMIDT, as she bounded forward in white bridal attire, her head dressed with loose sprays of vivid green. Slender she seemed; but a healthy, hearty, steady joy beamed in her countenance; and she seemed the happy artist wife, with soul now doubly wedded, knowing rest no more in the ideal only. The first chords of the recitative recalled her from the public to her dramatic identity with Weber's loving, faithful Agatha, watching by moonlight for her lover: Wie nahte mir der Schlummer. These first tones sang themselves in a soft, slow, murmurous, slumbrous, unconscious manner; but how beautifully the voice became awake! how heart-felt and subdued the prayer: Leise, leise, broken by the allusion (all in harmony) to the peaceful starlight without! Then the sense of solitude, as she leans out of the window, while the breeze creeps through the pines! And the wonderful transition, when she hears his footsteps, to the rapturous and overwhelming strain of joy, alternating with a fond heart's fears, which closes one of the greatest scenes of modern romantic lyric drama! Surely she is the keeper of the true secret of that music. The end explained the beginning, which some one near us whispered he thought "tame!"

It was now Mr. BURKE'S turn. "Variations on a theme of Schubert;" we feared the virtuosoridden and abused theme of the "Serenade;" but, to our sober joy, his violin began the deeply musical Lob der Thraenen, or "Praise of Tears," and right feelingly and exquisitely he praised them; but the first variation and the finale (after the approved solo-player's pattern) were too full of capers to bear any relation to such a theme; such variations (they were by David) are not even fantastic, they are simply bewitched by a mechanical uneasiness. Mr. Burke did full

justice to his beautiful theme, and to whatever there was beautiful in the appended variations.

And now for our universal songstress in a specimen of the Italian school: the scena and aria from Beatrice di Tenda. The slow introduction, Ah! miei fedeli! was given with the full pathos and sweetness of Bellini; and in the bravura part, her voice absolutely revelled in flashing and, as it seemed, extempore intricacies and marvellous refinements of execution. We have marvelled at the matchless frolic of her art in this piece before; but this exceeded all before. O! Italian prime donne, with your everlasting conventional cadenzas and fioriture, painfully polished down to nothing, why is it that your ornaments sound never new, while her's sound never old! Your ornaments are lessons, but her's are spontaneous flashes of her soul,- delicate heat-lightnings of the warm midsummer night of inspiration. Once her voice ran, like an electric spark, through the chromatic scale; we have heard chromatic scales before; but here each note of it was brightly touched with a new and wholly individual character.

But now comes the climax, not of the violent dramatic excitement, but of the serene pure height of song. Was ever the disembodied, spiritual quintessence of melody passed through mortal ears into immortal souls, if it was not then in her delivery of the MOZART melody: Deh vieni, non tardar! Some of those long-drawn, heavenly receding tones were the most clarified and nevercloying sweet of sound. You drew it in, insatiately, as you would the exquisite smell of a rose pressed to the nostrils. The singer seemed to "expire into her song." This was simpler music, in one sense, than any previous piece; but into its transparent perfection all the blended resources of her art seemed to secrete themselves. The hearing of one such strain is the birth of a new ideal and a new faith in a man's head and heart. After Sig. BADIALI's impassioned delivery of the Cavatina from Lucia, which was pertinaciously encored, the songstress closed with that song of the "Birdling," which she " yet must be singing;" and it seemed as fresh and delicious a necessity of her very nature, and as new, as if it had not been sung hundreds of times. The audience rose

a heartier testimony than the usual calls for more. For so vast an audience it was the most intelligent, most thoughtfully attentive we have seen, and gave the fullest proof that the great singer has converted all her critics. If further proof of that is wanted, read the notices of the Courier & Inquirer.

satisfied, Who now shall say that the singer, whose soul is informed with all the living inspirations of the German composers, is not thereby qualified to throw as much life and fervor into the test pieces of the Italian opera, as those who only know this last kind of music?

The second part was opened by Mr. GOLDSCHMIDT. The modest young pianist, whilome uniformly overshadowed and overlooked, was watched, this time, with a respectful, eager curiosity; for, to the careless world's eye, he had suddenly become a man. Why had that expansive forehead, that finely classic, thoughtful mouth, that whole face full of intellectual experience and sentiment, and whole form stamped with artistic, modest self-possession, escaped general notice until now? Real worth can bide its own time. Never before in an American concert, we can safely say, was Weber's noble Concert-Stueck (Concert-piece, or Concerto), so admirably, so perfectly played. With all the force required to suit the piano to so vast a place, there was not in it, from beginning to end, a single phrase or note in which the idea and spirit of the music were not made paramount, while the player and the instrument and the execution were unreservedly subordinated to that end. That was true Art; he felt the orchestra and the orchestra felt him, and they all felt (including the good artistic SCHARFENBERG, who turned over the pages for his friend), that here was a musical and spiritual meaning to be interpreted, through all their sympathetic co-operation, to the delight and edification of that great audience. It was warmly applauded and VON WEBER was glorified in the second, as he had been in the first part of the concert.

The duet from "The Huguenots" between Mme. GOLDSCHMIDT and Sig. BADIALI was nobly sustained in both hands. Her great dramatic energy and the unrivalled purity and volume of her voice here told remarkably; even in largeness, the soprano tones seemed equal to the baritone, large as the sentiment they uttered, of a woman ready to die for him she loved.

Mr. EISFELD'S "Concert Polonaise" was a spirited, refreshing orchestral piece. It moved on with a triumphant and intoxicating wealth of harmony, worthy to clothe the noble rhythmic outline of the Polonaise form, like a young Bacchus crushing red with grapes every step.

We remember when it was not an uncommon thing to hear JENNY LIND called a cold singer, one who lacked the fine Italian fervor and feeling in her music. We do not hear this now of Mme. GOLDSCHMIDT. We believe some people have become convinced through her that it is possible to have feeling and fervor even deeper than Verdi or Donizetti have known how to infuse into their music. What a teacher and inspirer of the deeper, holier feelings is such a voice as hers, wedded to such music as she loves! It is no idle fanaticism that studies not to lose a note of these farewell strains. It is only sad that it must end! We spoke with her yesterday about leaving America, and in less than an instant the tears filled her eyes, and she strove in words to tell that she felt much at leaving such a country. Perhaps it will not be violating confidence, to add that it is her wish to sing her "Farewell to America," as she did her "Greeting," in a song composed for the occasion by her husband, to verses written by a poet who has several times graced the columns of our Journal.

J. S. D.

P. S. We had the pleasure of taking OLE BULL by the hand this morning. He looks not much altered, and talks as eloquently and enthusiastically as he was wont to play. He gives a concert here on Saturday, with JAELL and the GERMANIANS, and will, very likely, be in Boston in a week or two.

Prof. A. B. Marx, of Berlin.

We have seen a private letter from the learned and philosophical author of the Compositionslehre, or "Theory and Practice of Musical Composition," the first volume of which has been translated in New York and noticed in a recent number of our journal. He writes, under date of April 29th, to a German professor of music in one of our Southern cities, informing him that he has concluded a contract with Mr. Robert Cocks, of London, for the publication there of his entire work, in four volumes, in the English language. He asks his correspondent whether he deems it expedient to undertake a separate translation in and for America, but adds, in reply to his own question: "I think not; because the fourth edition of the Compositionslehre," (now preparing by the author),

"to which the London translation will adhere, contains such important improvements in respect of method, that a new translation of the third edition" (the latest one accessible to an American translator) “cannot agree with it."

Our music-teachers will be interested in the fact that Dr. Marx has another more practical work in contemplation, of which he thus writes: "As soon as I shall have finished and published the treatise on the Science of Music,' (which I hope will be in the summer) I shall proceed, at once, to work out my Method of Musical Instruction,' which if I am not mistaken - will produce a radical reform of the present modes of teaching music. It is quite certain, that I shall issue this work (which includes all branches of musical instruction, namely, the piano, singing, composition, &c.) in German and in English at the same time. The success of this work in England and America, owing to the thoroughly practical tendency of those nations, may naturally be greater than in Germany; it may perhaps serve, in less time and with a deeper and surer basis, to further and complete the artistic culture in these lands, which by their healthy nature and their social conditions devote themselves to actual interests, and leave the ideal to the care of us poor Germans, who live and brood, by the grace of God, in an Aristophanic suspension, and have our homes like the cuckoos in the Clouds.'"

Musical Intelligence.

Local.

The work on the Music Hall goes on bravely. A whole army of laborers are at work; the walls have risen high above the ground, and already the skeleton forms of orchestra and balconies may be seen. The general plan of the building is now easily understood, with its various entrances and corridors. Standing in the centre one can already in imagination people the great space with familiar faces, while waiting with impatience the actual completion of the work.

Of the project for the new Theatre and Opera House we have, as yet, nothing definite to report, but hope soon to be able to present to our readers the welcome intelligence that the work is really begun with some sketches of the plan of the building and its proposed location. Meanwhile, the National Theatre, we hear, is about to be rebuilt on the old site.

As the new buildings rise, the workmen are engaged in removing the walls of the Boston Theatre, which has been perhaps, more familiarly known to the musical public under the name of the Odeon; very dear in the recollections of many lovers of music, as the place where we first heard and learned to know and love BEETHOVEN; as the scene of our initiation into the knowledge of the great works of the masters of instrumental music, where the nucleus of our now immense audiences of the lovers of instrumental music, was first gathered and instructed. It is pleasant to look back on those small beginnings, and we cannot see these walls coming to the ground without a passing word of farewell, nor move onward without a glance backwards at the pleasant recollections of a former time.

During the Summer season, we understand that the Germania Serenade Band, under their leader Mr. Schnapp, propose giving a series of afternoon promenade concerts in Union Hall. The evening out-door concerts of this little band in some of the neighboring towns last Summer, gave much pleasure to large num bers of people. Their selections of music are good and the excellence of their performance on brass instruments is well known to all concert goers in the city.

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port," says the Athenæum, "to reflect the spirit of the week, we should chronicle green-room gossip and Chancery argument. In our rival Opera-houses Law has been more listened for than Music since we wrote last." The parties are all in chancery. Instead of Casta Diva, we have Lumley's prayer for an injunction. Bills, answers and affidavits are studied instead of scores; hearings in chancery have taken the place of rehearsals, and arguments are listened to instead of Cavatinas. What may come of it we know not; "such business requires a great deal of thought, and chancery justice is so very difficult to follow." We leave them with the wards in Jarndyce-"expecting a judgment"- and wish them a safe deliverance.

L

HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE. L'Italiana in Algieri was revived on the 13th of April for the debut of Mademoiselle Angri and the rentrée of Belletti. The Musical World (London) says:

"The class of opera to which L'Italianain Algieri belongs is almost extinct. No composer of the present day attempts it, and it may safely be added that no composer of the present day, in attempting it, would be likely to succeed. For this there are substantial reasons. Singers are educated now in quite a different fashion from that which prevailed in the pays of Cimarosa and Paesiello, and in the early time of Rossini. Verdi and his followers have killed the school, without substituting a better. What is chiefly demanded now in a singer is a powerful voice, and a certain amount of dramatic feeling, armed with which he at once launches into the sea of public life. The consequence is inevitable. The majority of singers are quite abroad in one of Rossini's early operas; they have neither the flexibility nor the style; either their voices are stiff and obstinate from want of the necessary training, or impaired, if not altogether destroyed, by "hallooing and singing," not of anthems, like Falstaff, but of Verdi's cavatinas and finales. We are much mistaken, however, if some day, the sort of Italian opera of which the one produced on Tuesday is so admirable an example be not restored, and the modern specimens, which have really no style whatever, altogether abandoned. Such a result would be well for all parties for singers, who wish to preserve as long as possible the quality and freshness of their voices, more especially.

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"Mademoiselle Angri (who experienced a flattering reception, and is a valuable acquisition to Mr. Lumley's company) is a dashing and spirited actress into the bargain. Her assumption of the part of Isabella was extremely animated, and her execution of the music in general admirable. We must blame her for introducing an air from Zelmira in the first act, since the original (Cruda sorte') is quite as good and in much better keeping; but this was redeemed by the highly effective style in which she gave the recitative and air,Pensa alla patria.' (Act II.) Excepting an occasionally exaggerated manner of sliding up, as it were, to the high notes-a fault with which, though easy of correction, Mademoiselle Angri has been frequently reproached her singing in this air left nothing to be desired. Her delivery of the recitative was large and imposing, and her flexibility in the rapid passages of the coda proved her an acoomplished mistress of the florid bravura school. Without recapitulating the many other excellent points in Mademoiselle Angri's performance, we may at once pronounce her success to have been decided, and cougratulate the theatre on the possession of a contralto of such eminent talent and means."

Of Belletti it speaks in terms of very high praise, and describes his reception as one of great warmth and frequency of applanse.

CRUVELLI had also appeared in Norma, Il Barbiere and Fidelio. Her performance of the rôle of Norma has elicited the warmest commendation.

ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA. Here GRISI had appeared in Norma and Valentine; we are obliged to defer a more extended notice of her appearance and that of Cruvelli, which lies somewhere perdu.

THE CONCERTS. The New Philharmonic Society, at its second concert gave a programme which presents a rather curious combination of the very latest and perhaps questionable novelties with the greatest acknowledged masterpieces. We find the C minor Symphony of Beethoven, for example, side by side with the Island of Calypso, an operatic masque by E. J. Loder. The overtures were Cherubini's to Anacreon and the Zauberflote. Herr Reichart sang an aria of Gluck's, Nur einen Wunsch, from Iphigenie, and a Liebeslied with chorus by Gumbert. A chorus, Chant des Cherubins, by Bortniansky seems to have been considered a novelty worth producing. The composer was director of the Imperial Chapel at St. Petersburg, some twenty-five years ago, and we learn that Berlioz was much struck by the performances under

his direction. A Concerto for piano forte and orchestra by H. Wylde, completes the programme. Of the performance of the Symphony the Musical World (London) says:

"M. Berlioz' reading of this extraordinary composition was the true German reading, his tempi were the true German tempi, his lights and shadows the true German lights and shadows-in other words those of Beethoven himself. We doubt, however, if Beethoven would have approved of the additions to the brass instruments, and more particularly to the doubling of the horn parts, which, in the second theme of the first movement, is equally unnecessary and obtrusive. We are aware it is the French custom, but all French customs are not necessarily good. These, however, are matters of taste. The applause that followed the symphony of Beethoven was of a description which left no room to doubt that the impression produced had been deep and genuine; it was perfectly deafening, and quite unanimous."

The performance of Loder's Island of Calypso is represented to have been " imperfect, ineffective, careless, and, at times, slovenly," though in its composition "unquestionably one of the ablest and most beautiful works that has ever proceeded from the pen of an English musician."

At the third Concert, the overtures were Mendelssohn's to the Isles of Fingal, Weber's Euryanthe, and Beethoven's Egmont. With the Berlioz symphony, Romeo and Juliet, the Athenæum seems by no means pleased, and prophecies that the interest felt in it will fall and not rise with every further performance of it. Berlioz, on the other hand, according to the News, received an overwhelming ovation, and he has won the suffrages of our musical audiences by the magic influence of his genius. It has been a battle with professional prejudices intense intolerance, artistic ignorance and bigotry, but the victory has been for art, development and progress against the standstill purists and dogmatists."

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"The charm of the evening," says the Athenæum," was the performance of Madame PLEYEL in Weber's Concert-Stuck. She is, beyond question, the queen of pianists, since, with all her power and skill, she is still feminine."

From the Chronicle, we learn that,

"Madame Pleyel's delicious nonchalant ease and superb confidence won the audience in the first half dozen bars, proving her vast power and wonderful brilliancy of fingering were in perfection. Weber's concerto is admirably adapted to exhibit the most finished pianist, and this performance satisfied the most exacting. The strength, vehemence, and coloring of the bolder portions were exquisitely relieved by the bell-like brilliancy of touch, and magical rapidity of execution in the high treble passages. Nothing more wonderful was ever achieved upon the plano forte."

Selections from Spontini's Vestale and Gluck's Armide complete this programme. The vocalists of the evening being Miss Dolby, Madame Clara Novello, Reichart and Staudigl.

THE QUARTET ASSOCIATION, composed of Messrs. Sainton, Cooper, Hill and Piatti, have introduced Cherubini to the English public as a Quartet composer, by the performance of his Quartet in E flat, in which we are told Cherubini is fresher, more vigorous and more enterprising than either Spohr or Onslow.

Elijah had been performed at the last of Mr. Hullah's Monthly Concerts and also by the Sacred Harmonic Society, and the Messiah in Exeter Hall for the Benefit of the Royal Society of Musicians.

There are multitudes of Chamber Concerts, Mdlle. SPEYER'S, Mr. BEALE'S and the Beethoven Quartet Society; the Royal Academy Concert and the Glee and Madrigal Union, but none of these present any features of note. Of the Amateur Society, the Athenæum says: "This body seems to be fulfilling its mission steadily and honestly. Amateurs play -at its Concerts - not only orchestral music, but solos on the piano forte and violin in a style which bespeaks practice and understanding. Amateur Compositions are performed, at least as good as the last English professional music on which we reported."

HENRIETTA SONTAG, THE COUNTESS ROSSI. Various rumors respecting this lady's proposed visit to the United States are being industriously circulated throughout the country; various parties claim to be her agents, and to have made arrangements with the Countess and several eminent musicians who are to accompany her, in relation to "the spoils;" and various reasons are

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rumors,

assigned for her coming; all of which parties, agents and arrangements are false and wholly unsubstantial. Our authority is no less a personage than Madame Sontag herself. In a recent letter to a gentleman in this city, in referring to her intended visit, and the reports concerning her engagement with this, that, and the other adventurer, she says:

"I am free yet. Mr. has made several overtures to me, but I have not accepted them. I mean to come over to America next Fall, trusting to God, a few good friends, and the wellknown generosity of the American people. I would not undertake such an enterprise were it not for the sake of my children, but for them I will undertake anything honorable, however arduous it may be."

Madame Sontag intends to embark for New York, in the latter part of August, and will arrive here early in September. - Musical World.

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E. H. Wade's Catalogue at present comprises all of the Music published by W. H. OAKES, C. BRADLEE & Co. and A. & T. P. ORDWAY, making it the largest and most valuable one in the country; which, with a large exchange list, enables him to offer every inducement to the trade, to Seminaries, to Professors and the musical public, for their patronage. Apr. 10.

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FOREIGN MUSIC.

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MUSICAL WORKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY

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A Collection of Vocal Music, arranged for the use of Seminaries, High Schools, Singing Classes, &c. By GEORGE F. ROOT, Professor of Music in Rutgers and Spingler Institutes, the New York Institution for the Blind, &c. With a complete course of Elementary Instruction, Vocal Exercises, and Solfeggios, by LOWELL MASON.

THE ACADEMY VOCALIST.

This work is intended to supply a want long felt in our Higher Schools and Institutions. The music is arranged for three parts, and in such a manner that it may be sung exclusively by female voices or by a mixed choir. Whenever solos occur, a simple accompaniment for the Piano Forte or Melodeon has been added. The work is printed from new English type and on beautiful paper. Retail price, 62 1-2 cents. ZUNDEL'S ORGAN BOOK. By JOHN ZUNDEL. TWO Hundred and Fifty Easy Voluntaries and Interludes for the Organ, Melodeon, Seraphine, &c. With Introductory Remarks, Description of Stops, Directions for the Purchase of Organs, &c., adapting the work especially to the wants of young organists, and those who have made sufficient progress to accompany plain Psalmody on the Organ, Melodeon, or Seraphine. Retail price, $1.50

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