blend together as only the voices of sisters can. In the duet from Matilda di Shabran they were equally effective, and murmurs of applause were audible towards the close of each brilliant passage."

The Times writes as subjoined:—

"The sisters Carlotta and Barbara Marcbisio, about whose duetsinging fame has recently been so eloquent in Italy, Germany, and France, who have won laurels at the great lyric theatres of Venice, Berlin, and Paris, and been honoured by the special and distinguished approval of Rossini, appeared last night for the first time in this country at' a grand evening orchestral concert,' organised by Mr. Land, the zealous and intelligent director of the London Glee and Madrigal Society. Although the programme, which brought so large an assembly of amateurs to St. James's Hall, was otherwise rich in attractions, both vocal and instrumental, the chief interest naturally centred in the two young strangers whom musical London has long been anxious to hear. Their reception was in the highest degree encouraging, and their success unequivocal. While report is unanimous in stating that the sisters Marcbisio are entitled to the favourable consideration of judges as solo performers, their renown having been principally earned by their duetsinging, Mr. Land, perhaps, acted judiciously in confining their share of last night's concert to pieces in which their talents were simultaneously employed. Two of the most elaborate and magnificent of the operatic duets of Rossini—' Ebben ' a tc, ferisci' (Semiramide), and ' No, Matilde; non morrai' {Matilda di Shabran)—together with Gabussi's pretty duettino, ' Le Zingaro,' were set down for them; and in each and all of these they raised the enthusiasm of their hearers. Both voices are good — that of Mlle. Carlotta a clear and powerful 'mezzosoprano,' that of Mlle. Barbara a 'contralto' of fine quality and extended compass. In solo passages their execution is rather noticeable for vigour, 'dash,' and brilliancy than for extraordinary finish; but its 'effect' is undeniable. On the other hand, in passages where the voices are combined, they blend delightfully together, and a precision, light and shade, and variety of expression are obtained, approaching very nearly the perfection of art. Thus, in the duet from Semiramide, the well-known ' Giorno d'orrore,' and in that from Matilda, the less familiar though hardly less beautiful 'Vannc, o caro, a te m'affidn,' might fairly be admitted to represent the beau ideal of ductsinglug. Here 5-~Winnfi were -as skilfully managed as the sentiment was glowing and the consentaneity unerring. Trie rrrcproaciiutile delicacy with which these exquisite slow movements were delivered, brought out the fire and animation of what came before and after, notwithstanding its comparative lack of refinement, in all the more striking relief; so that the entire performance of each duet left an impression as vivid as it was satisfactory. There was no mistaking, indeed, the genuine character of the applause that thundered forth at the conclusion from every part of the hall, adding the hearty approval of 'John Bull' to the flattering verdicts of the Continent. After these grand displays, the duettino of Gabussi was of little moment; nevertheless, it was so admirably rendered that the audience would gladly have listened to it again."

At the morning concert, to-day, the sisters are announced to repeat the " Giorno d'orrore;" but the other duets will be new.

AMINA AND THE MILL-WHEEL. When some one asked Byron whether he did not find the acting of Miss Kelly in the Maid and the Magpie deeply true to nature, Childe Harold replied: "I don't know. I was never innocent of stealing a silver spoon." But, in spite of the sharp saying, the story of the girl of Palaiseau, falsely accused of theft, and saved by an extraordinary accident, still lives on the European stage; so, in this country, does the memory of the cordial and pathetic actress with whom the drama is associated.

More powerful still to move, more universal to charm, is the story of the peasant girl who saved her good fame by walking in her sleep over the mill-wheel. Some such exploit, no doubt, his been really told and believed somewhere as a thing which once happened; and the tale has spread from one country to another, even as the tale of the traveller who fainted dead on seeing by morning light the broken bridge he had safely ridden over in the dark—what shall we say?— as all real stories do. Let the true origin and locality of the transaction be suggested as a matter of shrewd investigation and amicable quarrel to those who make "Notes " on "Queries," seeing that, nowa-days, the business of criticism is to prove that everything must havo been something else. The Marseillaise Hymn, one Herr Hamma assures us, is a barefaced plagiarism by the Dibdin of France, Houget de Lisle, from the "Credo " of a dry German mass, written for an ob ecure village town in a corner of the Lake of Constance, with which

I town on the lake, of course, and with its manuscript mass-music, the Parisian vagabond man of letters could not fail to be as familiar as if Meersburg was Montmartre or Montmorency.

Be these things as they may, our anecdote of the sleep-walker was dressed up in the form of ballet some thirty-five years ago, by M. Scribe. As a French ballet, La Sonnumbula had not a long success. The Italians prefer for their ballets incidents,which admit of strong and mute action. The French are not thus constructed. There is small space to dance upon in the story of the peasant girl, who, by perilling her neck over the old mill-wheel, cleared herself from her lover's jealous suspicions. But there is room in it for passionate and pathetic gesture; and the incidents are not crowded so closely together as they are in other dramatised ballets, such as the Sylph and the Gipsy, both of which (no offence to the music of Mr. Barnett and of Mr. Balfe) made bad opera books. Thus it fell out that in 1829, or thereabouts, a gentle and graceful young Sicilian composer, Bellini, chose this subject for music. From his first outset in art—unable to compete with Rossini in versatile richness of melody, he conceived the idea of devoting himself to dramas of greater pathos, force, and feeling, than those which had been taken hold of, with a carelessness savouring of arrogance, by his predecessor. Further, Bellini had to write for the greatest actress who had yet troddeu the opera stage. For Pasta, when in the prime of her power, was La Sonnambula written. But the noble and gifted woman, whose Norma, Semiramis, Medea, Anne Boleyn, were creations each differing from each in its regal pomp and majesty, could hardly look the part of Amina; and though Pasta acted it, as she did everything she touched, consummately, the delicacy of the music and the compass of its melodies were calculated to betray the peculiar defects of her voice, which, never agreeable by nature, was always liable to be out of tune. Amina, then, was one of Pasta's less fortunate impersonations. She placed it on the stage, however, and with it, as with all her other characters, a host of those traditions and suggestions which have been invaluable to all destined to succeed her. The influence of Pasta, to name one instance distinctly to be traced, throughout the long and glorious career of Mad. Grisi, has never died out, in spite of the notoriously ephemeral duration of singers' influences.

If Pasta brought La Sonnambula to the Italian stage, Malibran iMirmloriunii the music and the legend in England- The critics of Pasta's day, who had not even then thoroughly recognised Rossini, being strong in the convenient and national mania of liking as few things iu art as possible, would not hear the pleasant freshness and simplicity of Bellini's music; they denounced it as weak and trifling. But how astonishingly were the Italian words " done into English 1" Of many similar versions, the book'of La Sonnambula is the most absurd perversion. That wonderful explanatory couplet which occurs just before the closing scene,

"And this, sir, you must know, though remarkable it seems,
, That sonnambulists they're called, because of walking in their dreams,"'

is only a sample of the entire book. Then, Malibran was badly supported on the English stage. Peace to the memory of her ungainly middle-aged opera-lover, with a poor voice through his nose, whom she drove about the stage like a whirlwind, and whom, by her vehemence of action, she absolutely made seem to act! No matter. A pathetic drama, wholly conducted in music and acted with energy, was new to English playgoers; and there were an exuberance of fire and of feeling in Malibran's acting, a daring and a passion in her singing, which, while she was before us, entirely carried off her extravagances. Never has opera-queen, singing English, transported her subjects as she did. Hers, however, was no Swiss Amina, but a southern peasant, with a brilliancy in her delight and a reckless abandonment in her hour of distress, that gave the part an intensity of colour, and a sharpness of contrast, neither "calm nor classical," which seized us with a resistless fascination. In the chamber scene, where the sleeping girl unconsciously enters with the light, Malibran was not equal to other Aminos, who have held us fast to the situation by their ghostly quietness. Her despair, in the instant of her detection and abandonment by her deceived lover, was terrible. She would not let him leave her; clung to him, pursued him, twined herself round him, and could only be flung loose to endure her agony when the strength of her misery would avail her no more, and she was left and broken (it seemed) for ever. Then the walk over the mill-wheel, which vindicates the heroine's virtue, was protracted by her with almost a cruel relish. She did her best to terrify her faithless lover into the keenest spasm of fear and remorse, as though sleep had brought with it the counsel of heartily punishing him for his suspicions. All this was to lead to that burst of ecstasy with which she flung herself into his arms in tho "frantic certainty _ of waking bliss." The final rondo (one of the happiest ex

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pressions of joy ever poured forth in music) was not so much sung by Malibran, though in it she heaped vocal change on change, triumph on triumph, as thrown out in the irresistible abundance of a new buoyant delight and relief. London was never tired of Malibran's Aminaj nor even when she had grasped "the town " by another remarkable personation, totally different, that of the devoted prisoner's wife in Beethoven's Fidelia, could the one success efface the other. There must have been something true and permanent in the peasant story and the despised Italian music, after all.

The next Amina on the long list who is worth remembering, for qualities entirely different from thoso of the gifted and fervid Spanish woman of genius—was Fersiani ; Grisi having, in the interval, attempted the opera and laid it aside. She was never beautiful, she can have never looked young, she in no respect showed herself a great actress; as a singer, she had been born with an ungracious though ready voice (a "bitter voice," Mendelssohn called it), a voico always more or less false; nevertheless, considering the part musically, Fersiani was the best Amina among all the Aminas who have been heard here. This, not only because she was accustomed to the power of working every phrase and note of the music to its remotest corner, leaving nothing for the apprehension to desire in point of skill; not only because her command over the graces and resources of ornament was limitless, but from a certain conception of the sentiment of the situations in the story, which stood her in stead of apparent freshness or originality, whether studied or instinctive. Great singers among her comrades, tired, find. in their great coats, ready to go home or to go out to supper, might be seen waiting in " the wing" till she had sung the final rondo. Fersiani's version of that air lives among the most complete of musical satisfactions recollected. Its fascination was strong enough to enthral even such opera-goers (their name is Legion) as care only for a pretty voice or a pretty woman. The conquest told much to " the score" of Fersiani, something, not less real, to the story on which was built the score of Bellini.

Next came an English Amina, not merely an Amina in English, competent in right of natural dramatic genius, powers acquired for its expression, to compete with any of the Italian singers at any time,—the last of the great Kemble race. Here again, however, as in Fasta's case, nature had set her facte against the Maid on the Mill-wheel. Form and features were opposed to the attempt. There was a certain heaviness in the quality of Miss Kcmble's voice which has nothing to do witb iir,»...ti,. versatility. Those laugh the best on the stage who can

cry the best. Fasta's smile was as g» m J .—i i— ,

was subduing, as her wrath was appalling -, but the smile was on the noble and serious features of the Muse of Tragedy; and the many are apt to read such smiles as mero grimaces. Miss Kcmble's Amina, admirable in many respects, was the least admirable among the few parts played by her during her bright and brief career on the English opera stage.

Writers of musical history will find a wondrous theme in the story of the next Amina, the Swedish lady, who, on our Italian stage, made playgoing London, whether grave or gay, madder than London has been made mad since the opera days when (as Byron said in his stinging lines) crowds jammed into tho pit, country ladies fainted and were carried out, and dandies were civilly rude to the same provincial females, in the eagerness of their worship of {sic in Byron) " Catalini's pantaloons." How the Lind-fever was begotteu, how nourished, on what basis the excitement rested, aro so many facts of no importance to this sketch. That it lured scrupulous divines out of their churches, that it threatened, for a nine months' wonder, the whole rival dynasty of opera with i revolution, shame, and overthrow, are truths which have nothing to do with the real musical genius of an artist, even of genius as singular, as successful as she was. Without doubt, Mile. Jenny Lind, with her large and speaking eyes and her clustering fair hair, will be remembered as the type of the Swiss peasant-girl, real and rustic, in all her simplicity and sincerity. Her northern voice, too, was admirably suited to Bellini's music ; the power which she possessed of drawing out its tones to any required strength and softness, made her more fit to present what may be called the ventriloquism of tho sleepwalking scenes than any one before her or since. She could act further, just to the point of sorrow and gentle woe which the situations of the tale demand. She could take, moreover (this was less fair), what was not her own, in the fulness of her determination to "have and to hold " her audience. In the chamber scene of her detection, by way of showing the splendour of her upper notes, she quietly appropriated the music of her lover's part, choosing to dominate in the moment of her disgrace and suspense, rather than to be struck down by them. This usurpation passed undiscovered. It was in some measure redeemed by the extreme and touching beauty of her second sleep-walking scene, just ere Amina wakens. Nothing more carefully devised

than this, nothing in the art which conceals art is seconded by congenial nature, | could be conceived. Tho soft, sad, slow notes seemed to flow from lips as totally unconscious as were the fingers which let slip the flowers, that poor, battered, treasured token-nosegay, last forlorn relic of Amina's betrothal (her token ring having been reft from her). There was a wondrous fascination in that musical scene, not wholly belonging to the singer, nor to her looks, nor to her voice, but in part, too, to the story and to the music. In the last joyous outbreak which follows this dream, Mile. Jenny Lind was inferior as a singer to Persiuni, and as an actrcss-and-singer-in-one to Malibran.

Next came Malibran's younger sister, one of the greatest artists of any time, happily still living to show the world how genius can be lord of all, when the expression of a dramatist's thought, or the representation of a musician's ideas, are in question. Her Amina was remarkable, not for its musical treatment (because consummate art is, in music, synonymous with the name of Viardot), not for her voice, not for her pleasant demeanour (infinitely simpler and less feverish than her sister's), but because of the wondrous deadness of the sleep thrown by her into the scenes of the girl who had to walk over the mill-wheel to clear herself. Without Lind's long respiration, without rare beauty of tone—with something by nature quick and impulsive in her southern composition—Viardot worked out another corner (till then nnexplored)

of Bellini's opera.

There may be twenty (for aught the Sybils know) new renderings of the hopes and fears of the singing sleep-walkers to come. Ere we name the last and youngest, it should be told that Sontag, too, after breaking her twenty years' silence, was tempted by the tale and the music on her return to tho stage; too late, as it proved, though her excellent tact always bore her above failure—that the gonial Alboni was fascinated into forgetting every disqualification of voice and figure, in the hope of making so favourite a part her prize, A vain fancy 1 Not even her beautiful, full, languid contralto tones, and her faultless execution, could carry the enterprise through. It was more curious than exciting to see with what solid and demure carefulness she braved the ordeal of the perilous walk above the wheel, holding steadily on to the projecting rail of wire which no eyes are expected to recognise, and relieved apparently when the terra firma of the stage was once more under her feet. Amina was no more possible for her to conquer than the Sylph who distracted her lover by her aerial exits up the chimney, or her gambols from flower to flower, would have been. What spell is there that will defend singing women and playing men against the disappointment of ? When will the Listons cease from wearying to be Or

landos and Komeos r

And now—at this time present, though it might have been fancied that all the changes conceivable would have been rung on Bellini's present opera—when half a dozen musical dramas, fifteen years more recent, prodigious and terrifying, have become stale, past tho power of the most wondrous genius to revive them—has come the youngest Amina of all, though assuredly not the most gifted—and at once, and without a single note of prelude or preliminary trumpet, has stirred up the tired town to an enthusiasm recalling the days when Malibran tottered across the stage in haste and frantic grief, and when Lind (with an Ophelia touch in the thought) breathed out her whole soul of sadness over the flowers, as, leaf by leaf, they mournfully dropped on the stage. Born in Madrid, Italian by parentage, trained exclusively in America, Mile. Adelina Fatti, on her first evening's appearance at our Italian Opera—nay, in her first song—possessed herself of her audience with a sudden victory which has scarcely a parallel, the circumstances considered. Old and young are now treating as conspiracy and treason any looking back to past Aminas—any comparisons. This new singer, in her early girlhood, is (for them) already a perfect artist—one who is to set Europe on fire during the many years to which it may be hoped her career will extend. Nor is their delight altogether baseless. Mile. Patti's voice has been carefully and completely trained. Thoso who fail to find it as fresh in tone as a voice aged nineteen should be, must be struck by its compass, by the certainty in its delivery, by some quality in it (not to be reasoned out or flefined) which has more of the artist than the automaton. She has a rare amount of brilliancy and flexibility. She has some " notions " (as the Americans have it) of ornament and fancy which arc her own, if they be not unimpeachable, say the Dryasdusts, in point of taste. If not beautiful, she is pleasing to sec ; if not a Pasta, a Malibran, or a Lind in action, she is possessed with her story. There is nothing to displease, if not much to move, in her version of the sorrow so mysteriously caused—of the joy which poetical justice has laid out so incomparably for a felicity-rondo to close a sentimental opera. For the moment, the newest Amina has the ear of London; in the future, Mile. Patti may become worthy of having her name written in the golden book of great singers. Meanwhile, what a tale is hero told, not merely of her great and welcome promise, not merely of her pos

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TOMIME every Wednesday at Two o'clock.

On Monday. January 6th, and every Evening during the week. Her Majesty's Servants will perform the popular farce, by J. B. Buckstone, Esq., entitled


Boh Ticket. Mr. Atkins: Pugwjuh, Mr. Barsby; Mr. Skinner, Mr. Hope; Susan Sweetapulr, Miss Kceley; Miss Wad.l, Mils Stuart; Mils fibbit. Miss Bland; M si Gimp, Miss Harfleur; Deborah, Mrs. Dowton. After which will lie produced, with that attention to completrne.- s in every department by which the Christinas Annuals of this Theatre have been so pre-eminently distinguished, the New Grand Comic Vantomtrae, entitled

Harlequin and the House that Jack Built;

•' If a man do build a dwelling upon common land from sunset to sunrise, and enclose a piece ••! ground, whcr.in there shall be a tree, a beast feeding, afire kindled, a chimney smoking, .nd provision in the put, such dwrllinii shall lie freelr held by the builder, anything herein to the contrary nevertheless i otwithst inding."—Old Forest Charter.

I he novel effects and splend d scenery by William Beverley, assisted by Messrs. C. Pitt. Craven, Biew, etc. Ma-ks, symbolic devices, personal appointments, and designs for the costumes by the celebrated DyUwv kyn. The overture and music composed and arranged by Mr. J. H. Tully. The maci-inerv In Mr. Tucker and assistants. The trick., piopeilies, changes, and transform tions by Mr. Needliam, assisted by Messrs.

Cltndon, H. Adam., i£ ■ -i-,.- r. / . -, — — . s.anTi,

and Mr. Palmer. The Gas Appointments by Mr. Hinckley. The Choregraphlc Arrangements by Mr. Cormark. The Hai leqmnade ana Comic Scenes by Messrs Cormack and B ".tones. Tue l'erfune of the r lowers supplied by Rimmel's process. The Grotesque Burlesque Opening invented and written by K. L. Blanchard. And the whole arranged ami produced under the immediate superintendence of Mr. Robert Roxby. v

Harlequins, Messrs Cormack and St. Maine; Columbines, the Misses Gunniss; Pantaloons, Messrs. G. Tanner and Morley; Clowns, Messrs- Forrest and tluline; Grotesque, Slgnor Lorenzo; 1861.GA Mr. Stilt. Sprites, by the Ridgways and Suweil Family.

Doors open at half-past G, to commence at 7 o'clock. Tickets for boxes, pit, and galleries may be had at the box-office before the opening.


Regent Street and Piccadilly.


THE Sixth Concei t of the Fourth Season (70th Concert in St. James's Hall) v.ill take place on Monday Evening, January 13, 1802, on which occasion Signor Piatti, Mons. Sainton, and Madame Salntou-Dolby will make their first appearances.


Part I.—Quartet, in F. minor. On. 4% for Two Violins, Viola, and Violoncello (Spohr), MM. Sainton, I.. Rles, II. Webb, and Piatti. Song, "Name the glad day" (Dussck), Miss Banks. Song. "Divinities du Styx" (Alceste) (Uluck), Madame Sainton-Dolby. Sonata Caracteristiquc, In E. Oat, Op. 81 (Beethoven), Mr. Charles Halle (firstlime at the Monday Popular Concerts).

Pakt II.—Sonata, in V major, for Pianoforte and Violoncello (Beethoven), Mr. Charles Halle and Signor Piatti. Song, " Never forget" (G. A. Macfarron), Miss Banks. Song, *' In a drear-nlghted December" (J. W. Davison), Madame SaiiuonDolby. Trio, in O major, lor Pianoforie, Violin, and Violoncello (Haydn), M to. Halle, Sainton, and Piatti. Conductor, Mr. Benedict. To commence at eight o'clock precisely.

Notice.—It is respectfully suggested that such persons as are not desirous of remaining till the end of the perlormance can leave cither before the commencement of the last Instrumental piece, or between any two of the movements, so that those who wish to hear the whole may do so without interruption.

*»• Between the last vocal piece and the Quartet, an interval of Five Minutes will be allowed. The Concert will finish not later than half-past ten o'clock.

Stalls, 6s.; Balcony, 3s.; Admission, Is.

Tickets tone had of Mr. Austin, at the Hall. 98 Piccadilly; CHAPPF.LL and CO., 60 New Bond Street, and of the principal Miulcsellers.


To Advertisers.Advertisers are informed, that for the future the Advertising Agency of The Musical World is established at the Magazine of Messrs. Duncxn Davison & Co., 244 Regent Street, comer of Little Argyll Street {First Floor). Advertisements can be received as late as Three o'Clock P.M., on Fridaysbut not later. Payment on delivery.

r~ J Two lines and under ... ... 2s. 6d.

dctins -j Evefy additional 10 words Qd.

To Publishers And Composers.All Music for Review in The Musical World must henceforward be forwarded to the Editor, care of Messrs. Duncan Davison & Co., 244 Regent Street. A List of every Piece sent for Review will appear on the Saturday following in The Musical World.

To Concert Givers.No Benefit-Concert, or Musical Performance, except of general interest, unless previously Advertised, can be reported in The Musical Wobxd.


THAT we are to have three Italian operas in London this season is beyond a doubt; that we are to have one English opera is not at all likely. Is this a manifestation of musical progress ?f Is it a sign merely that English music is acceptable when none other is to be had? Is it a proof only that the public has no national feeling on the subject? Unfortunately, the real effect of English opera, represented in the most advantageous light, cannot be tested. Either our artists will not coalesce, or managers are afraid to embark in the expense of securing flie best talent. Compare the constitution of our National Opera with that of the Grand OueVa, or OpeYa Comique, of Paris. In nur opera

»„_ —oiiigcis only are engaged; while in

Paris, at either of the national establishments (there are two), all the available talent is secured. The consequence is that both theatres nourish, and both are kept open nearly throughout the entire year. Let us suppose an English manager to have the means or the will to procure the following company of native artists :—Soprani—Mesdames Louisa Pyne, Florence Lancia, Lemmens-Sherrington, Parepa and Guerrabella; Tenors—Messrs. Sims Reeves, W. Harrison, Swift and Haigh; Basses—Messrs. Santley, Weiss, H. Corri, G. Honey, Patey, &c.; Contraltos—we say nothing of contraltos, since there is no first-class singer of that register on the stage; but one or two we have no doubt could be enticed from the concert-room. Let us fancy this company established at one of the great theatres, and all bent on aiding in the general completeness of the performance, in place of being absorbed entirely in considerations of self or eaten up with jealousy and spleen. What might be anticipated as the result? A veritable National English Opera—a goal to stimulate young artists in their studies — a legitimate success for the undertaking. In Paris, each of the national theatres we have mentioned engages a double company of singers, from which these benefits accrue;—the principal artists, upon whom falls the chief labour of sustaining the opera, have not their powers and capabilities imperilled by singing every night, and a performance is never postponed in case of the illness of a singer, as another is always prepared to take his place. Do our English managers ever reflect upon these manifest advantages? We fear not; indeed, we are rather inclined to think that they trust too much to providence in their race for fame and for lucre. In their visit this year to England foreigners will naturally desire to take back to their distant homes a knowledge of what English music is like, and how English composers write. They will naturally take up the Musical World or the Times to instruct them where the national opera is being performed. On investigation of either of these journals they will ascertain that the Traviata is being given at Her Majesty's Theatre, Rigoletto at Covent Garden, and the Trovatore at Drury Lane. Perchance the Bohemian Girl or Maritana is being perpetrated at the Surrey Theatre or at the opera in Shoreditch; and seeking in either of these temples of the Muses to obtain some idea of national genius and national enterprise, the strangers will return home with no very exalted impression of English composers, English singers, English orchestras, and English managers.

Is any body to blame for this state of things? Who is to blame for it? We put these interrogatories because we ourselves cannot answer them. Time was when Braham, Sinclair, Kitty Stephens, Mary Paton, and a host of no mean vocal talents were wont to appear in the same opera at Drury Lane or Covent Garden, and the word rivalry was never uttered by the public, nor dreamt of by the critic. Are artists now grown so diffident that they fear to provoke comparison? or have they become so assured of their merits that they would fain convince the public of their superiority by arguments more potent than singing? Let us do our English singers justice. In most instances— excepting, of course, a few of our best vocalists — their education has been so restricted to their art and advancement in their profession, that no opportunity has been afforded them of considering anything without themselves. This eternal rotation of self-communion has naturally engendered great reliance, profound knowledge of their own capabilities, with, in most respects, total ignorance of other's merits; so that it inevitably follow* they entertain a thorough conviction of their individual worth, and act upon that conviction irrespective of any ulterior consideration: all which demonstrates that we possess no true school of English vocalisation, and that until we do we cannot expect singers to display those liberal impulses and unselfish acts which should stimulate and govern the disciples of a pure, a noble, and a refining Art.


IT may be remembered that some weeks back a report came from Vienna (which was alluded to and commented on in one of the letters of our Berlin correspondent), to the effect that Herr Richard Wagner's opera of Tristan und Isolde would not be brought out at the Imperial Opera (the Karntnerthor). This report, however, has since elicited a rejoinder from that preux chevalier de I'Avenir, Herr Hans von Biilow, in a letter which a spirit of justice prompts U9 to reproduce in the Musical World. After begging the editor of the paper to which it was originally addressed to insert it, Herr Hans von Billow proceeds as follows: —

** The correspondence in question commences with the news of Herr Wagner's departure for Venice; Herr Wagner is at this moment still in Vienna. As far as regards any pecuniary compensation, cither already paid, or to be paid, to the composer by the management, for a forced renunciation on his part, of the performance of his new work, such a thing is, even presumptively, altogether out of the question, since the opera of Tristan is definitively accepted. The sole point remaining to be settled is the period of performance. This depends entirely upon the time which may elapse before the management are enabled to secure the services of a tenor, the necessary steps having already been taken. On the occasion of the production of the opera being postponed, in consequence of Herr Ander's continuous indisposition, definite terms were agreed on, between the management of the Imperial Opera House and Herr Richard Wagner, as regards the sum he was to be paid, as well as

regards other details: but Herr Richard Wagner refused the offer of a sum to be paid him on account, in consequence of the production of his work being postponed. It strikes me as being hardly worth while to refute the idle reports circulated respecting the general rehearsal, which, as is well known, was most brilliantly successful, although the unbecoming mention of a patroness of princely rank, as well as the suspicion cast upon the zeal and good feelings of the members of the company, deserve our censure. Herr Andcr may have been guilty of inconsiderate and stupid statements in private, but the deplorable state of his health, and his profound anxiety to preserve the remains of his voice ('Material'),once so brilliant, demand, on this point, our indulgence. The accuracy of all the above facts is vouched for by the editor's most obedient servant, Hans von Biilow, Royal Prussian Court Pianist."

So, the Viennese will have to listen to Tristan und Isolde, after all! And Herr Ander ?—,we wonder if he can survive Herr Hans von Billow's cutting allusion to "the remains of his voice once so brilliant?" We for our own parts are not surprised that the unhappy tenor should feel disinclined to sing in Herr Richard Wagner's last chefd'eeuvre, which, according to its composer's own confession, excels even Lohengrin and Tannhdtiser in "Futurity." If he does sing in it, there is one thing very certain, — that he will no longer have the " remains" of a once splendid voice; he will possess only the manes of "the remains " —the residue of the remainder. Peace then to his manes!

ACORRESPONDENT of a theatrical turn of mind is desirous to know whether "Rose Cheri" was the real or the assumed name of the late popular and much regretted French comedienne. Well then, her real name was not Rose CheVi, but Rose Cizos. Her father and mother, Jean Baptiste Cizos and Juliette Garcin, were, thirty years ago, strolling players, known principally at Etampes and Chartres, but they afterwards travelled much in the southern provinces. Their daushters. Rose nnd Anna, were brought upon the stage when mere babies. One day, at Perigueux, the celebrated Prefect Romieu, seeing the two girls playing together, exclaimed, " Quelle jolie paire de Cizos" (Ciseaux) —what a pretty pair of scissors! This official pun had great success, but the father was vexed at it, and ever afterwards took the name of Cheri, which was simply a common term of endearment used towards him by his wife and children. M. Romieu amply indemnified M. Cizos for the liberty taken with his patronymic, by giving him aletter of introduction to Bayar, the dramatist, then in vogue in Paris. This circumstance led to the removal of the family to the capital, and was the foundation of their fortunes.

On April 5, 1842, the favourite piece of La Jeunesse Orageuse was in the bills of the Gymnase, and the house was crowded. After the performance of the opening interlude, an unusually long pause ensued, during which the audience became impatient; and at length M. Monval, the manager, came forward to say that Mile. Nathalie, who was advertised for the principal part, was suddenly taken ill; but that in order that the public might not be disappointed, a young lady, unknown in Paris, had kindly consented, &c, to undertake the character. This announcement was received with murmurs. Presently a beautiful, modest-looking girl, almost a child, came forward, and at once prepossessed the audience in her favour. Her soft, yet penetrating voice, and charming manner gained all hearts as she went on, and at the fall of the curtain she was unanimously called for. "What is your name?" inquired M. Monval, as he prepared to lead her on the stage, "Rose Cizos." "That name will never do," said the manager hurriedly; "the* public will laugh at it— give me another." '' My father called himself Cheri in the provinces," said the timid debutante and thereupon the name of Rose Ch6ri was for the first time proclaimed in that Gymnase Theatre, of which she was ever since the principal ornament.

One morning, in the year 1847, the Cizos family was assembled in its little drawing-room, when Scribe, the great dramatic author, came in with a look of importance, and dressed with scrupulous care. "Good morning, M. Scribe," said Rose, shaking him by the hand; "have you brought me a new part?" Yes, mademoiselle, I have come to offer you a part which you ought to have had before this." "Ah! what is the catastrophe?" "Wait till you know the beginning;" and then making a bow to M. and Mad. Cizos, M. Scribe formally and solemnly demanded the hand of their eldest daughter for M. Lemoine-Montigny, manager of the Gymnase. The proposal was accepted, but the marriage was put off for two months for the following reason. Mile. Rose Cheri's dramatic services had been too much needed by her family for them to suspend them even for a short period, and the country priests with whom Cizos had been in contact would not administer the "first communion "— that grand ceremony which must precede a Catholic marriage — so long as the girls were (on the stage. Monseigneur Afire, the late lamented Archbishop of Paris, took a more liberal view of the dramatic profession in relation to religion, and during two months Rose and Anna Cheri were wont to hurry away from rehearsal to receive religious instruction from the vicar of St. Elizabeth. They subsequently received their first communion in the church of St. Roch, and on May 12th, Rose Cheri was married to M. Lemoine-Montigny, and her sister, Anna, to M. Lesueur, the well-known actor at the Gymnase.

MUSIC AT MANCHESTER. Sib,—Being at Manchester for a day or two, I was glad to avail myself of the opportunity of attending one of M. Halle's concerts in the Free-Trade Hall. Luckily the programme on Thursday was one of more than ordinary interest; and as you cannot receive the Guardian until too late for your current number, I, as a contributor to the Musical World of some years standing (although taut soil peu idle of late), claim the privilege of forestalling your hebdomadal extract from that well-conducted sheet.

The Hall was crowded, and no wonder, the sterling nature of the attractions considered. M. Halle, I was told, had created an orchestra for Manchester. A provincial orchestra! Rara avis! Nothing more true. Only the best of London orchestras could have given a more striking performance (a better read, or felt, I could not have desired) of the magnificent C minor symphony of Beethoven. And, then, it was listened to throughout with an attention that would have done credit to the intelligent musicloving crowds that flock to the Monday Popular Concerts. Equally good was Spohr's fine overture to Jessonda, Hector Berlioz's ingenious arrangement of the Invitation pour la Valse (Weber), and Auber's graceful prelude to Le Lac des Fees, with which the entertainment brilliantly concluded. M. Halle is a first-rate conductor, as well as a first-rate trainer.

For singer there was the clever Mile. Parepa, who gave "Ocean, thou mighty monster," and the grandest of the two airs of Astriaffamente (Die Zauberflote) with splendid energy, besides treating the audience to a ballad of Whittaker's (encored), and Paer's sparkling variations on "La Biondina," so recently "revived" at the Monday Popular Concerts. The old English ballad was welcome in its place, and so were the Italian variations.

For solo-players we had "the pianist of the Monday Popular Concerts," as the Times somewhere christened Miss Arabella Goddard and M. Charles Halle — twin-stars of classical pianist, "Gemini," "Castor and Pollux," or whatever you please. At any rate, in Mozart's superb duet-sonata in D major, for two pianofortes, the great Teutonic "virtuoso," and the young and captivat

ing English "virtuoso," played together with Marchisio-likc unanimity, as if they had been playing together, and doing nothing else, for the last twenty years. I have never listened to a more admirable performance. There must surely have been an electric current incessantly passing from the ten fingers of the lady to the ten fingers of the gentleman. And how thoroughly was the music of Mozart appreciated! Such applause when his two gifted interpreters appeared on the platform! Such attention throughout the entire sonata! And such a burst of delight from the united audience at the end of all! Bravo, old cotton-spinning Manchester! Miss Arabella Goddard (a distinguished favourite here, by the way), had already achieved a triumph in the first part, with Liszt's fantasia on the quartet in Rigoletto, a more perfect example of dexterous, brilliant, and at the same time elegant manipulation than which I cannot call to mind. The hearers, enraptured with the young performer, whose agile fingers ran like lightning up and down the key-board, summoned her back with acclamations, and would not be satisfied until she had resumed her seat at the instrument. Then she treated them to Mr. Benedict's vigorous and admirable "Erin "—how she plays which I need not inform the readers of the Musical Would. It was, in short, from first to last, a concert to remember.


Moseley Arms, Manchester, Jan. 3.

Her Majesty's Theatre.—Some difference is still pending between the noble proprietor and Mile. Sarolta (or M. Bagier) respecting the contemplated arrangements for the season. The difficulty is merely a pecuniary one, and will probably be settled to the satisfaction of lessee and undertaker.

Madame Linu Goldschmidt and Mb. Sims Reeves arc agreed upon another tour (of one fortnight's duration) in the country.?

Miss Kate Ranoe. — The name of Kate Ranoe cannot be unfamiliar to our readers. We had occasion to mention the young lady in no measured terms of approbation, when she appeared as a singer at Jullien's Concerts, and at the Surrey Music Hall. Sinpo tlmn Miss Ranoe has henn acting and the Ply

mouth Theatre, with a success that has reached even the Metropolis. The effect she created as Eily O'Connor in the Colleen Eaton, when that ubiquitous drama was produced at Plymouth under the direction of Mr. Newcome, induced the management of the New Adelphi Theatre to engage her, and she accordingly appeared on Saturday week as the heroine of the Colleen Bawn, Mrs. Boucicault being prevented from sustaining her original character byjindisposition. Miss Ranoe made a decided hit both as actress and singer, and we have no doubt that she is destined before long to take a prominent position among the leading comediennes of the day.

A Good Example. — Mr. George Crawshay, of Montagu Street, Russell Square, has, in consequence of the embarrassed state of the funds of St. Mark's Hospital, Paddington, placed in the hands of the secretary a cheque for 500i. This liberal donation, the largest ever received since the opening of this charity, which, like the Royal Free Hospital, Gray's Inn Road, depends on voluntary contributions for the vast amount of relief afforded, is in acknowledgment of professional services rendered to one of Mr. Crawshay's domestics, while under the care of Mr. Ure, a surgeon to the hospital. This must be exceedingly gratifying to that gentleman's feelings, for it is too often the case that medical officers got little more than thanks for their very arduous and attentive labours.

Exetek Hall.—At the performance of the Messiah by Mr. G. W Martin's National Choral Society, last Monday, as a tribute to the late Prince Consort, the side galleries and front of the orchestra were draped with black, the base of the organ being festooned in like manner, the sombre colour heightened (or rather deepened) by a narrow white border running Found the "sable livery of woe." To the music desks were appended black bows and streamers; all the principal singers and many of the chorus wore deep mourning, while none were entirely without some mark of respect. Add to this a densely crowded audience, almost without exception clad in the same sombre attire, and it must be owned that the general effect was of it depressing character. Although, no doubt, excellent in intention, we question the taste of draping the hall in a manner which would have been appropriate enough before the interment of the Prince, but seemed rather out of date a week after the ceremony. The oratorio was preceded by^the "Dead March " in Saul

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