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"Elaine's Song"—words from Tennyson's Idylls of the

King; music by Walter Hay (Duncan Davison & Co.). Though the spirit of the "little song * which Elaine, who "sweetly could make and sing," did make and sing as " The Song of Love and Death," is not, perhaps, exactly reflected here, in other respects we have nothing but praise for Mr. Walter Hay's composition, which—whether we look to its melody, as natural and flowing, or to its accompaniment, as a model of neatness—is, in a strictly musical sense, altogether irreproachable.

"Mignon;" "Self'- Deception" — words from Goethe,

music by Adrian (Duncan Davison & Co.). This is the first time we have heard of "Adrian." We presume he is a German. That he is a good musician is apparent in both these songs; but that his modesty is equal to his merit would seem doubtful. Beethoven, as all the world knows, has set the delicious song from WilhemMeister (" Kennst du das Land ?"); and how he has set it need not be told. What Beethoven himself thought of his own music may be gathered from his talk when he first played and sang it to "Bettina." "Is it not beautiful ?"— says he. "Yes," says she. "I will play it again," says he. "Do" says she, &c. After this one might have set down "Mignon's Song" as, by universal consent, sacred to Beethoven. "Adrian," however, not squeamish, has reset it, more or less (more "more" than "less") in the Italian style. What he has written is graceful enough, but it Jhas not a spark of the Goethic fire ; and we shall, therefore, continue our allegiance to Beethoven. "Self-Deception" (" Selbst Betrug"), with German and^English words (the English version, by the way, done in a kindred spirit by Mr. John Dwight, of Boston), is a volkslied, or people's song. Judged from a musical point of view, it is at least as good as its companion; while as a genuine thing it is altogether preferable. Taking the average of the Proch-Abt-Kiicken drawing-room songs, " Self-Deception" may pass muster as one of the best of the class.

"Fascination Polka"pour le pianofortepar J. C. Beaumont, Professor of Music, Berry Row, near Huddersfield. Copyright (L. Scholefield, Huddersfield.)

Why not "Professeur de Musique, Front de Berry,

Champs de V Outre, Copiedroit," to complete the absurdity?

The " Fascination Polka " begins thus fascinatingly : —

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"Te Deum Laudamus"—for solo and chorus, with organ or piano accompaniment — by Arthur Crump (Robert W. Ollivier).

There is abundant good intention in this piece; but here commendation must stop. Mr. Crump should first endeavour to write purely; and when he has mastered that, slacken the reins of his Pegasus by degrees. He might then ride safely on the clouds of his harmonic fancy. "Heath Flower " — for the pianoforte — by Alfred BedDoe (J. Norwood, Preston). There is nothing new in this piece, nor any evident reason why it should be styled "Heath Flower," any more than Meerschaum. It is, however, brilliant and showy, without being difficult, lying well for the hand in every passage.

"In the Spring;" "The Summer Wind"—songs — the verse arranged by Henry F. Chorley (Cramer, Beale & Wood).

The first is for a tenor voice, the second for a soprano. Both are unpretending, and neither is without grace, although the termination of each verse of "In the Spring" may fairly be taxed with abruptness.

Dresden.— Herr von Liittichau, Intendant-General of the Theatre Royal, is suffering from a paralytic stroke. His place is temporarily filled up by Hen- Barr.

Hanover.— M. Gounod's Faust has been placed on the stage at the Theatre Royal, with more than ordinary splendour. In the last act alone, there are five new scenes, painted by Herr Martin. As a mark of his approbation of her performance of Gretchen, the King has forwarded Mile Ubrich a magnificent bracelet, accompanied by a most flattering letter. A concert has already been given in aid of the funds for the Marschner Monument.

Bamberg.—The Musikvercin, consisting of more than 200 members, lately gave a highly successful performance of Mendelssohn's Elijah.

Wiesbaden.— Ferdinand Hiller's new opera, Die Katahomben, libretto by Herr Moritz Hartmann, is in active rehearsal, and will be produced on the 2nd February.

Cobuiiq.— A new grand opera, entitled, Die Jungfrau von Orleans, words by Herr August Langert, has just been produced, with success. On the night of the first performance, the young composer was called on several times, and loudly applauded,

Regenbburq.— The numerous admirers of Joseph Haydn will be glad to learn that an account of the old master's life and productions will shortly be published. It is from the pen of Dr. Dominicus Mettenleiter, and will form four volumes. The author has spent twenty years in collecting his materials, with what trouble and sacrifices may easily be imagined.

Munich.—M. Gounod's Faust has been given here, before'a crowded house. The subscription-list was entirely suspended. Not only were the singers, but the scene-painter and the machinist repeatedly called on. The King and Queen, as well as the Princes Adalbert and Theodore were present. At a concert lately given by Herr Peter Marolt. Mad. Sophia Schroder, an old lady eighty-two years old, and a pensioned member of the Theatre Royal, recited an ode by Klopstock, with all the energy and spirit of a young woman. She was loudly applauded—At the second subscription-concert given by Herr Ortner, Court-organist, the great features in the programme were B Symphony, in E flat, by Haydn ; and Mendelssohn's "Capriccio brillantc," in B minor, for pianoforte and orchestra ; the latter played by Professor Schbnchen.—During the past year, there were, at tho Theatres Royal, altogether, 314 representations; 140 representations of operas, and 32 of ballets. Three operas were entirely new j and five, revivals. Tho three novelties were: Der Hans ist da, comic opera, by Fbry; Orpheus und Eurydice, by Gluck, and Dom Sebastian, by Donizetti. The revivals were Doctor und Apotheker, by Dittersdorf: Le Chaperon Rouge, by Boieldieu ; Marie, by Heroldj Le Macon, by Auber; and Le Nozze di Figaro, by Mozart. Meyerbeer was represented twelve times; Weber, nine; Gluck and Boieldieu, eight each; Conradi, Donizetti and Flotow, seven each ; Mozart, six ; and Wagner, live*

* Who was the young composer?—Printer's Devil

MUSIC AND THEATRES IN PARIS.
(From our own Correspondent.)

Feb. 13, 1862.

This missive will reach you on Valentine's day, but it will be neither a declaration of love nor an explosion of spite, such as tyrant custom loads the tired postman with, making him thus commemorate by his sufferings the martyrdom of the good Bishop Valentinus, A.d. 271. The simple and unadorned narrative of current events I have to send you this week, will contrast with the wreath-enclosed lovers, or the garish caricature, which will form the contents of most letters received by the same post. Something of love and romance, however, I shall have to touch on, though of a date far antecedent to the martyrdom of the saint who has so oddly become the patron of lovers. All the world concerned in art-matters is babbling and prattling over the forthcoming production of M. Gounod's much and long-talked of opera La Reine de Saba, the production of which has been put off from St. Valentine's day — when, appropriately enough, the story of the ancient Royal lovers was to have been first told in musical accents — until the 21st of February, which has no particular fitness about it that I can discover with the help of the calendar. It may interest your readers to know the subject of the opera, and I shall therefore here insert it short account of it, translated from a sort of prospectus of the new work recently put forward. I will premise that the foundation of the libretto is a legend narrated in a book of eastern travel, published by the unfortunate Gerard de Nerval. The argument of Gounod's opera runs thus :—

"The works which earned for Solomon, in the legend called Soliman, the surname of the Wise, are conceived and executed by a mysterious being named Adonirnm, who exhibits a profound contempt for all earthly greatness, and especially for the King, whom he treats as the son of a shepherd. The fact is Adoniram is himself descended of a divine race, of the sons of Fire.

"The Queen, yielding to the love-suit ur;:cd by Soliman, has promised to marry him, and as a token gives him a ring; but, under the influence of a sinister presentiment, she regrets this engagement upon seeing Adoniram, and while in the presence of this supernatural genius, whose power affrights even the King himself, when, at the desire of the Queen to behold his army of workmen gathered together, Adoniram, by merely tracing with his hand certain signs in the air, collects them in a few moments from every point of the city.'

"The power of freemasonry appears here in all its splendour, for, to the chief of the workmen who built the temple of Solomon is ascribed the foundation of that great moral association which has spread over the entire world.

"The Queen has come to be present at the consummation of an immense work—the casting of the sea of brass, which is to crown the glory of the master, or cause him to lose the fruit of his labours. The operation is conducted on the stage, and fails through the treachery of three workmen, to whom Adoniram had refused to disclose the master's pass-word.

"Adoniram, crushed by the weight of his misfortune, loses all courage on learning that Soliman loves the Queen j but the latter has seen him so great in his creation f that she discovers he is of royal origin, and makes an avowal of her love, notwithstanding the oath which binds her to the King.

"The work of Adoniram has been successfully completed through the assistance of the Djjuns during the night; his glory is restored, but hatred pursues him; the three workmen have detected his secret dealings with the Queen, and inform Soiiman, who promises them the password, if they know how to earn it as a reward. Adoniram must die!

"The Queen, to recover her token, employs a means which only the Biblical origin of the legend can authorise}:: she fills Solimau's cap with an enchanted beverage, and abstracts the ring; but in her flight from Jerusalem she encounters the vengeance of the King; Adoniram, with his expiring breath, utters a last attestation of his love, and expires."

With me, I am sure you will admire this insurpassable document. It is positively dazzling with darkness, overwhelming with majestic obscurity. Oracular — portentous—sublime! What a

* For the profound obscurity of this paragraph, not the translator but the original author is responsible. A mystic style was probably thought suitable to a mystic subject.

t Locus admodum nebulosus.

X Qu'est-ce? De quoi? Plait-il? Obscuritas spississima et plusPam Egyptiaca!

work it must be that is ushered in by such a prologue! Gounod, Adoniram, the author of the prospectus, the mystic founder of the "sea of brass," are they not one? We have masters here — some of whom have studied in the great school of the United States— the land of blatant charlatanism — masters of the art of puffing! Our papers contain daily models of such managerial manifestoes. But their authors must hide their diminished heads before the "supernatural genius" and the "sea of brass" of the Imperial Opera of Paris. That touch of Zadkiel, in his most mysterious predictions, is an entirely new ingredient, and constitutes a grand discovery. I recommend this "argument" to the attentive study of our managers, apologising for the inadequate English I have found for the original; but I confess, had I a forty PalgraveSimpson-power of translation, I could not have made my English as obscure as the Frenchman's French.

The "getting up" of this great work will be something stupendous, it is said. The casting of the "sea of brass" is particularly mentioned. It is to take twenty minutes a-doing. Heaven grant us a safe passage over this mysterious sea!

From these mighty loomings in the distance turn we to accomplished facts. Donizetti's II Furioso, or, as the title at length stands, H Furioso aWisola San Domingo, has been produced at the Italian Opera. As this work is not very well known, a brief statement of the subject will not be out of place, although I detest plots (nobody reads them), and I have already given one which, however, as no one will be expected even to try to understand it, hardly counts.

Cardenio (so the madman of the opera is called) is robbed of his young wife by a seducer. He overtakes them in St. Domingo, and just as he is about to despatch them with his dagger, he is seized and bound, and becomes raving mad. Cardenio, however, breakes his chains and takes refuge in the mountains, where he leads a wandering life, alternating between lucid intervals and fits of insanity. In one of his attacks he seeks to drown himself, but is saved by a brother, a sailor, who, being on the spot at the very nick of time, rescues him, and that so deftly, that he does not even wet his pantaloons of immaculate white, or his kid gloves. Cardenio does not recover the permanent use of his faculties until his repentant wife has repeatedly proposed a joint suicide. This handsome offer to die with him quite reconciles him to live with her again — and the ex-lunatic plunges into the joy of a second honeymoon under the tropical climate of St. Domingo.

If a composer goes to Bedlam for his subject, we are not to expect a very cheerful result. There is, however, a comic negro, played by Signor Zucchini, who somewhat relieves the gloom which surrounds the principal personage assumed by Signor Delle Sedie, with remarkable dramatic power. Any one who desires to plead insanity to an inconvenient charge against him at the Central Criminal Court, would do well to take a trip to Paris, in order to study the part in the magnificent assumption of this artist. The public were agreeably surprised in hearing this opera by the recognition of not a few favourite airs which Donizetti had borrowed from himself to introduce into other works.

A new work, by M. Grisar (Albert), is shortly expected at the Opera Comique. Its title is Le Joaillier de Saint James. But the frequenters of this establishment are less pre-occupied with the promise of this new piece than they are with the success or failure of the negotiations now on foot for the re-engagement of Mad. Carvalho, who is now in Belgium, where she is so prized that astounding terms are offered to her to induce her to remain. What the upshot will be is still a matter of doubt. It is well to be a prima donna smothered in golden showers by rival managers.

In the theatrical region, revivals have been chiefly the order of the day. The Oddon, however, has produced two new cne-act pieces, both successful. One is called La Jeunesse de Grammont, a little comedy, a la Pompadour; the other is entitled, La Derniere Idole, and is a miniature domestic drama, most delicately handled, and instinct with true pathos, as indeed might be expected from the fact, that one of the authors, M. Ernest L'Epine, is the author of La Joie fait Peur, known on the English stage under the title of "Sunshine through the Clouds."

M. Victor Sejour's drama, founded on modern historical events, and to becalledZ'/ntKwion oules Volontairesde 1814, is definitively to be produced at La Porte St. Martin. Your readers will reniember it was suspended. I think the subject, however patriotic, is an unwise one, as reviving old sores uselessly; and I said so at the time, and thought the Emperor had acted on my advice, in ordering its withdrawal. Perhaps the piece has been modified and rendered harmless. I trust so.

THE MENTAL HISTORY OF POETRY.*

Br Joseph: Goddard.

"To search through all I felt or saw,
The springs of life, the depths of awe,
And reach the law within the law."

Tennyson.

In the early ages of Poetry it is represented as having been recited by bards in celebration of certain gallant deeds of war or chivalry ; in honour of chieftains, victors and heroes, or in praise of virtue and beauty. In its latter exemplifications—as the general nature of man rises, as his observation becomes deeper, his intellect clearer, his imagination purer,—Poetry may be observed to be elicited through sensitiveness to less palpable and physically striking, but deeper and purer embodiments of beauty and worth, such as the varied aspects of Nature, illustrations of the personal virtues, the charm with which the mind enrobes youthful or other associations endowed with the deep interest attaching to the grand passes in life's path, the natural and mental halo of loveliness surrounding country and native locality.

Now emotions aroused with reference to objects of contemplation such as these will always, more or less, tend to partake, and in some phase or other, of a character of admiration. It may be admiration fraught with a joyful or sad complexion; it may be an ardent and impulsive issue of that feeling, or an emotional current, still and pensive, and calmed into reflection. Yet, whatever be the circumstances that sober or stimulate its course, that brighten it as with the noon-day sun, or that deepen it as with the pensive hue of eve, the emotion arising from the contemplation of the above order of influences will always, in a high degree, be charged with a character of admiration.

Although these observations are here made with particular reference to Poetry, still, so far as they have been carried, they apply equally and fairly to art-phenomena generally, for we have up to this point only considered a certain inward emotional state preceding all external art manifestation. The state of the breast thus described is only the latent preliminary condition for the exemplification of art generally. It is the internal preparation of Nature for the exhibition of art-creation. In the outward expression of this condition is it only where art becomes visible, and where it assumes form and distinctive character.

Doubtless, regarding it from a chronological point of view, Poetry would appear the primeval art, the first feature that the general art-effluence ejected into form, and without departing from the direct path of our inquiry, this truth will in due course be observable.

Reverting to that general principle governing the action of all human demonstrativeness, in circumstances where admiration is the emotion craving expression, which was laid down in our general definition of Art—that the first spontaneous tendency of this emotion will be to conjure up, to reproduce, the original influence, the natural incentive that aroused it, we have now to consider how far this process is visible in Poetry.

Even from a first and general glance it is clearly perceptible that all intelligible forms of moral or physical nature into which the whole field of Poetry resolves itself, are, more or less, resthetically modified reproductions of objects and influences of general human admiration, be they the moral charms shining through the vista of humanity, or the beauties and splendours of the universe.

Even by this brief retrospect we are led to perceive that in Poetry there is a continual reproduction of some influence worthy of admiration ; we see that it is, for the most part, in the warmth, vividness and enthusiasm of this feeling, in which it is written, and that its continual aim, tendency and main purpose is the repro

Continued from page 87.

duction, through description, and all the powers of suggestiveness furnished by language, both that suggestiveness which ensues directly and obviously, and that which works through a deeper and more circuitous labyrinth of the mind—of the original provocative of this emotion.

We may again remark that up to this point our observations, though applied prospectively to Poetry, refer just as directly to all other forms of art, for this reproduction of an original influence of admiration, though tending immediately to the assumption of palpable embodiment, is still the process which produces the form of all art. It is the manner of this reproduction which gives to art its special character and distinctive order. It is the manner of this reproduction in the circumstances of Poetry which immediately constitutes Poetry, and which we shall in the next place consider.

In the old historic warlike eras and ancient chivalric times, when actions, and those not of the most productive or discriminating character, were more in vogue than thoughts, and before music existed even as a moderately developed art, or the scientific knowledge necessary to painting had been gathered, there were still not wanting powerful appeals to the imagination and high incentives of admiration. Much of this mental' order of influence might have been furnished in the brilliant vicissitudes of war and chivalry, and in the striking and restless circumstances attending religion. The circumstances of the crusade, for example, contained almost an unparallelled combination of elements which, in the phase of human intellect incident to the epoch in question, were even singly calculated, in the highest degree, to influence the above faculties. For here the stern animal-idea of war was chastened and sublimed by that of religion, and both were tinged with the vivid splendour and ideal spirit of chivalry. Neither in those days were there wanting other and softer influences than these, tending, in their very nature, to kindle highly the imagination and invoke to a far action the appreciative instincts of man.

Love is a passion which has left its traces, graven by the red finger of crime, or blooming and fraught with fragrance in the perennial flowers of virtue, in all regions and all times. Although it is a natural emotion, although it is the emotion, it is still an exceptional one; for it is the only single natural emotion that is composed of both personal and abstract feeling—that, whilst glowing in its instinctive warmth, fosters simultaneously almost to its brightest pitch the imaginative fire. Ambition, religion, love of nature or the ideal, are all emotions which are evolved through, and, in fact, which could not exist but for the developing light and warmth of imagination j these, however, are abstract emotions, not ordinary personal and natural feelings, like affection, pity, hope, or joy. But the passion of love unites all the individual earnestness and intense poignancy of the latter emotions with the grandeur, breadth, soaring tendency, expansiveness and nervous spirituality of the former.

At the epoch of which we are speaking also, although the intellect had scarcely penetrated to the perception of any of the philosophical beauties, natural, moral, or scientific, there were still minds not insensible to those displays of devotedness, disinterestedness, self-sacrifice, honour, virtue, affection, faith—those "deeds that shall not pass away "—those rare and mostly hidden, but still living and blooming, flowers of the human plain, which, happily, are never altogether undiscoverable on the fitful track of man.

Amidst all these general, and at the same time powerful, incentives of admiration, and in those natures so formed where it would converge into such a focus as to seek that expression which in the present day would distribute itself over the various demonstrative outlets of art—in these circumstances, and in these times, how was this internal rapture of the mind and heart to assume expressional form—for natures such as those above alluded to must have existed then as now. That inner fertility of nature in man,—that appreciative warmth, discriminative keenness, and the original and striking faculty of demonstrativeness incident to genius,—is undoubtedly fraught with the general constitution of man. The laws which produce it are part of the permanent laws of his being, and must have always prevailed. The efficiency, doubtless the very fact of their palpable manifestation, is a matter of circumstance, is materially affected by knowledge and cultivation: in short, is sympathetically related with the general march of the mind. But the original conditions of such a manifestation which exist in the breast,—the natural fervour of fancy and imagination, the keen sense of beauty, the susceptibility to grand or delicate impressions, the strong and earnest flow of nervous energy, the broad consciousness of the varied emotional pulsations, all combined with a special endowment, a vigorous faculty of demonstration, may exist totally without reference to any particular mental stage, and must have frequently been developed in the times in question. But, to take up the thread of our inquiry,—in natures such as these, whereon beamed all those striking and varied influences of admiration we have enumerated, and in the times of which we speak, how was this high emotional afflatus to attain palpable expression p

The inner principle on which this expression would manifest itself would of course be that which is exemplified in the general tendency of the emotion of admiration to reproduce the influence that created it. But in what particular outward medium would this reproduction be couched; in what aesthetic material would its lineaments be wrought? In colour, sound, or symbolie?

We shall preface the reply to this proposition by entering for a brief space into that difficult question —as to the cause of the different species of genius which arises applicable to the different orders of art. What makes one mind a great and original painter, another two great creative musician, and another a great poet, since the main and general conditions underlying all these endowments are the same? All involve that imaginative scope, susceptibility of impression, fullness of emotional nature and vigorous power of demonstration, mentioned in the last paragraph but one, all are animated by the same strong determination to wreak the state these qualities involve upon expression, and all (with some reservation as regards Music)* consummate this expression in abeyance to the same principle—that of reproducing the immediate outward influence that invoked them to action.

Now all these varied conditions are common conditions of the general order of Art of which we speak—high creative art. The outward varieties of type which arise from these common conditions must, therefore, be caused more by external circumstances than through any inherent divergence in the inner stream of inspiration. The reason then of this variety in the outward forms, put forth from the common burthen of genius, lies in the different forms which the expressional instinct involved by Genius—assumes—through the difference and variety in man's demonstrative faculties. One may possess a faculty of wielding, with peculiar power and facility, all the suggestiveness and resources for effect dwelling in language. Another may be able to bear in his memory, with remarkable and minute distinctness, vivid images of all the forms and effects in Nature. Another may possess thatfineaural perception, that retentive aural grasp, that deep gift of realising effects of sound in the mind—all its delicate shades, and all its impressional resources, and thus attain the faculty of conceiving original tonal designs. In each of these cases it will be observed that a chance perfection in some almost purely physical sense, a concurrent excellence in a few of the ordinary and general physical endowments of man, begets alone a distinct art-faculty. In the one case, the art-faculty and gift born purely of excellence in physical endowment, is that of Colour and objective form—the fine visual endowment of receiving and retaining faithful impressions of this order of natural effect begetting the faculty of demonstrating these impressions. In another case, the art-faculty born of material more than mental parentage is that of Language; and, in the remaining instance, it is that of Sound. Now these external circumstances alone are amply sufficient to produce, and without doubt do produce, in the cases of those whom they invest, respective exponents of the different branches of fine art in question. These circumstances alone suffice to make poets, painters, or musicians; but all the art which thus, and thus only, ensues, will be, in the case of Fainting, merely imitative art, and with respect to all the orders of art involved generally, mostly but that whose figure is wrought through diversions on the surface of the art-material—as in Music, in simple melody and pleasing superficial effect. And here is the explanation of the remark made at the

* The deviation of Music, in its mental production from this principle, is explained in "The Philosophy of Music"

commencement of this paragraph, that it is high creative art which is in this inquiry generally treated of, for it is only when the possession of the external art-faculties of which we have just been speaking are allied to those deeper and wider moral conditions before specified, whence the exalted phenomenon of creative art ensues. It is only when these essential physical endowments are combined with that grand and rarer general moral susceptibility and intelligence, which we have previously dwelt upon, and described as the primary condition underlying all art, whence can ever issue the spectacle of high creative art—the art which embraces deep thought, which moulds forms out of the shadowy sphere of the abstract, and which grapples with the Infinite. In preparing an answer to the proposition now under consideration of the way in which the art-tendencies of ancient times would most consistently attain expression, it is desirable to consider somewhat further the subject of that external art-endowment which has been already to some extent investigated.

It was remarked of all the several outwardly demonstrative artfaculties, that they followed from purely physical antecedents, that they were the results of certain combinations of physical excellence. This being the case, it will now be perceived that they must consequently be amenable to that general influence of progress and development which almost wholly determines the condition of a physical faculty—cultivation. This is particularly the case with reference to those faculties which produce Music and Painting, involving the senses of the eve and the ear respectively. Both of these arts demand a special training and education of those faculties before even the language through which they speak is mastered, and not only a training with respect to the individual, but through long periods of time involving generations. Any comparatively forcible example of either of these arts, any moderately important specimen assuming to fairly represent them, will always be found to involve an education of the above faculties over a great space of time. Again, these two arts of Painting and Music demand also, in an important degree, that which can only be the result of protracted practice — manual skill. Beyond this there enters largely into a portion of the demonstrative process attending both, that marrow of all knowledge and progress— science; and this is a condition of the availability of these two arts which involves not a particular but a general and high stage of advancement in the human intellect.

But in the case of the art of Poetry, it is apparent that, in the process of this art's assuming expressional form, scarcely any of the many conditions just enumerated with respect to Painting and Music surrounds it. So far as its physical conditions are concerned, it involves and demands but the knowledge and power of language, the wielding of which requires no separate faculty, such as trained eye or ear or manual skill; neither does Poetry demand for any portion of its constitution the embodiment of scientific knowledge.

( To be continued.)

Wtttm to % <Mor.

MISS TIHRLWALL. Sib,—Last week I went to hear the Puritan's Daughter, and having seen the name of Miss Pym's in the advertisements and bills, was grieved to find that our brilliant Eongstrcss was suffering from indisposition. Still more grieved was I subsequently to learn that the talented lady had been ill, and not singing for nearly a fortnight. The "kind indulgence" of the audience was therefore claimed for Miss Thirlwall, who both sang and acted the part of Mary Wolf in a manner which showed that she had no need to ask any " indulgence" although her task would have been more grateful if one or two of the ballads had been retained. The management should be proud of a remplaeante capable of sustaining the post of prima donna with such genuine ability.

C. H. W.

TO ORGAN-BUILDEHS.

Sir,—Can you, or any of your numerous readers, inform me whether any of the organ-builders are preparing large specimens of their skill for the forthcoming International Exhibition?

Am Organist In The North.

[graphic]

been much in Eisenstadt, and thus acquired an intimacy with Haydn, which ripened into strong and lively friendship. Hence, in later years, whenever Haydn was in Vienna—that is, so long as he continued in the active service of Esterhazy—he was expected to dine every Sunday at Geuzinger's. The Doctor's wife, a Von Kayser by birth, was, at the time this correspondence begins, near her fortieth year (born Nov. 6,1750), and had been married about seventeen years. They had five children: Josepha (the Peppi of the correspondence), 16 years of age, and Salvina, 4, and three sons, Franz, Peter, and Joseph, of 15, 9 and 7 years. Mad. Geuzinger, a woman of fine culture, was eminently so in music. She read full scores with ease, and arranged them for the pianoforte. That these arrangements were of real value is proved by the request of Haydn, in one of the letters, that she should send him a complete symphony thus arranged for publication in Leipzig.

The letters of Haydn are printed by Karajan, from the originals; those of Mad. Geuzinger from the first drafts, presented by her, with Haydn's. To convey, in an English translation, the odd quaintness of the Austrian-German, which makes many passages in these letters very amusing, is not possible; but in other respects — save that the high-flying complimentary terms in the addresses and signatures are usually omitted, together with the compliments to the Doctor and others—our translation is as literal as may well be. The customary "Euer Gnaden "—still almost as common as in Haydn's day, especially among the lower classes to all of higher social position, is necessarily translated "Your Grace," although it has not the technical value of the English expression. What are we to do in English with such an address as this, — " Hoch und wolligeborne hochschatzbahrste, allerbeste Frau v. Geuzinger!" (Literally, " High and well-born Mad.— most-highly-treasured, all best Frau von Geuzinger! '0

The reader will then be pleased to imagine each letter of Haydn beginning thus, or in similar terms, and usually closing with a postscript to this effect: "My most devoted respects to high your Herr Spouse and entire family and the Pater Professor.' And now to the letters.

(No. 1.)—Mad. Guezinoer To Hatdn.

Vienna, June 10, 1789.

Most respected Herr von Haydn!—With your kind permission, I take the liqerty of traismitting to you a pianoforte arrangement of the beautiful andante of your composition, which is such a favourite with me. I have made this arrangement entirely myself, without the least assistance of my master, and I beg you to do me the kindness to correct anything in it which may not meet your approbation. I hope that you find yourself in the best condition, and have no stronger desire than to see you soon in Vienna, that I may give you new proofs of the respect which I cherish for you.—I remain, with sincere friendship, your most obedient servant, Maria Anna Km.k Von Geuzinger,

Born Edle Von Kaiser.
(No. 2.)—Hatdn To Mad. Geuzinger.

Estoras, June 14, 1789. High and well-horn — gracious Fran!—In all my correspondence up to this time the surprise of having such a beautiful letter and such kind expressions to read is the most delightful, and still more do I admire that which came with it — the capitalist transcribed adagio, which is so correct that any publisher might put it to press. I should only like to know whether your Grace has arranged it from a score, or whether you have been at the astonishing pains of first scoring it yourself from the parts before making the pianoforte arrangement; for in the latter case the compliment is really too flattering, and one that verily I have not deserved. Most excellent and worthy Frau v. Geuzinger, I await but a hint as to how I can do your Grace some sort of service. Meantime I send the adagio back, and confidently hope from your Grace some commands to which my small talents may be adequate, and am, with extraordinary and most distinguished respect, &c.

(To be continued.)

Mavence.— According to general report, Herr Richard Wagner will ere long fix his permanent residence either here or in Wiesbaden. He wishes, it would appear, to be near the celebrated house of Schott and Sons, who publish his more recent works. The "Musician of the Future" is at present engaged on the composition of a comic opera, to be entitled Hans Sachs. (Query, are not all the operas of Herr Wagner more or less "comic? ")

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