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VOL. 40-No. 31


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SQUARE.-Mr. LEONARD WALKER has the honour to announce that his
FIRST CONCERT will take place at the above Rooms on Monday evening,
August 1lth, to commence at Eight o'clock precisely.

Vocalists: Mad. GORDON, I Miss ALICE DODD. MUe. GEORGI. the Misses HILES.

PERFORMED AT MR. SIMS REEVES' GRAND CONCERT, EXETER HALL. Instrumentalists: Pianoforte-Herr Emile Berger and Master Fox; Harp–Herr

OBERTHUR; Flute-- Mr. B. WELLS..

Conductors : Mr. AGUILAR and Herr EMILE BERGER.

Stalls, 78.; reserved seats, 5s.; unreserved seats, 2s. 60. Tickets to be had at the ... MAD. LEMMENS.SHERRINGTON. I principal Musicsellers'; at the Hanover Square Rooms; and of Mr. LEONARD Nita ... ... MISS PALMER.

WALKER, 5 Newman Street, Oxford Street. Mazeppa




1 vacant place in Durham Cathedral will be made on Monday the 29th day of

September next. No. 1,-Chorus.

The Trial will take place on the Thursday and Friday of the preceding week, 2.-Chorus. Female Voices.

immediately alter Morning Service. 3,--Recitative and Air--" Oh ! she was fair." - The Count and Chorus.

All Applications and Testimonials must be sent in, addressed to Mr. EDWARD 4.-Air-" I dream'd I had a bow'r."- Teresa.

PEELE, Registrar to the Dean and Chapter of Durham, at his office, in the College, 5.-Duet-"My faithful Nita."--Teresa and Nita.

Durham, on or before Wednesday, the Tenth day of September next. 6.-Recitative and Air-" She walks in queen-like grace." - Mazeppa.

The travelling expenses of the Candidates who shall be summoned to the trial will 7.--Chorus.

be paid by the Dean and Chapter. 8.Puel_“Ah! why that face so full of care ?"- Teresa and Mazeppa.

College, Durham, July 23, 1862. 9.-Ballad—“Teresa ! we no more shall meet."- Mazeppa. 10.-Trio" Oh! spare him."- Teresa, Nita and Count. 11.-Recitative and Song-" Despair attend his footsteps."-Count.

LERR OBERTHUR will play his Transcription for 12.-Instrumental Solo (Mazeppa) and Chorus. 13.-"Long live Muzeppa." Chorus.

the_Harp, of Reichardt's popular Song, “ THOU ART SO NEAR, AND

YET SO FAR," at Mr. Leonard Walker's Concert, August 11.
CRAMER, BEALE & Wood, 201 Regent Street.

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THREE PRIZE MEDALS. THE MISSES HILES will sing the Duet for Soprano

1 and Contralto, “ O GLORIOUS AGE OF CHIVALRY,” from Mr. HOWARD GLOVER's popular Operetta of "Once too Often," at Mr. Leonard Walker's Concert,

August 11. METZLER & CO. have received the PRIZE MEDAL

for their Bass Instruments: are Agents for ALEXANDRE'S PRIZE MEDAL HARMONIUMS; and Sole Agents for PL EYEL'S PRIZE MEDAL M R . EMILE BERGER will play his popular Solo, PIANOFORTES.

"LES ECHOS DE LONDRES," at Mr. Leonard 'Walker's Concert, Drawings and List of Prices on application, 37, 38, 35, and 16 Great Marlborough

August 11.
Street, W.

Now ready, in 2 vols., with Portraits, 218., .

1 GRUNEISEN, Esq.-Many inquiries having been made by Literary, Musical, THIRTY YEARS MUSICAL RECOLLECTIONS. and other Friends of the Secretary of the Conservative Land Society, whether the

subscription was restricted exclusively to the Members of the Society. The By Henry F. CHORLEY.

Committee beg to state that the Testimonial is open to all those persons who may "An interesting, amusing, and instructive work, which is full of anecdote, and is wish to subscribe, and who are requested to signify their characterised by the highest critical acumen.”—Post.

J. D'AETH, Esq., Hon. Sec., “Every page of these volumes offers pleasant reminiscences. Whether as a

22 Surrey Street, Strand, London, 'W.C. conscientious history, a graceful series of portraits, or an anecdotical record, the author must be congratulated on the work he has accomplished."-Atheneum. MHE MUTUAL LIFE ASSURANCE SOCIETNA " The value of this work to all of musical taste is unquestionable. They cannot fail

(A.D. 1834), 39 King Street, Cheapside, E.C., London, to derive from it considerable information as well as amusement."-Sun.

On January 1, 1862, Capital, from Premiums alone, £403,165.
HURST & BLACKETT, Publishers, 13 Great Marlborough Street.

Income upwards of £68,000. Assurances £1,634,755.
Bonuses average more than 2, per cent. per annum on sum assu

Profits divided yearly, and begin on second premium.
MR. BRINLEY RICHARDS will return to London in

Every Member can attend and vote at all general meetings. 11 September. --Letters to be addressed to him at Tenby, South Wales,

Last Annual Report and Accounts may be had.








Price 4s.

"An exquisite Romance, which no imitator, however .ingenious, could have written—as quaint, as fascinating, and at the same time as Thalbcrgian as anything of the kind that has been produced for years."

The Times,



New Series. Price 3s. each.

No. 13.—Serenade from " II Barbiere."

14. —Duet from " Zaubcrflote."

15. —Barcarole from " Giani di Calais."

16. —" La ci darem " and trio, " Don Juan."

17. —Serenade by Grctry.

18. —Romance from "Otello."

"Among the hitherto unknown compositions were some selections from the 'Art of Singing applied to the Piano,'' Transcriptions' of Operatic Melodies, arranged in M. Thalbcrg's ornate and elaborate manner, invaluable to Pianists who believe that the instrument of their choice can, under skilful management, emulate the violin itself in the delivery of cantabile passages."—The Times.



EOR ORCHESTR A Meyerbeer's GRAND EXHIBITION OVERTURE is now ready, for full orchestra. Price 12s. Also Audeb's GRAND EXHIiilTION MARCH, for orchestra. Price 7s. 6d. Boosey & Sons, Holies Street.

SIGNOR GARDONI'S NEW SONG, "Pourquoi." Rom an co. By Signor Mpratobi. Sung by Sign or Gardoni at the Concerts of the Nobility during the present Season with immense success. Price 2s. Gd. Boosey St Sow., Holies Street.

SIMS REEVES* NEW SONG, "She may smilo on many." Bv Howard Glover. Sung by Mr. Sims Reeves with unprecedented success. Encored on every occasion.

Boosey & Sons, Holies Street.

MOZART'S DON JUAN. 9s. Boosey & Sons' New Edition, complete, for Voice and Pianoforte, with English and Italian words. The whole of the Recitatives and Notes of tiie Author's Instrumentation. Price 9?. In cloth (400 pages).

This splendid Edition, the best and cheapest ever publi hed, of Mozart's great work, should be In the hands of every professor of rmiiic. Also Figaro, 9s, Zauberflote, to.

Boosey & Sons, Holies Street.


f J Price 7s. Cd. (To Subscribers, 5s.)

Roos&y St Sons, Holies Street.

BOOSEYS' SHILLING MESSIAH, complete Vocal Score, with Accompaniment of Pianoforte cr Organ, derav 4to (sixe of " Musical Cahinet"). Price Is.— Ooosry & Sons have much pleasure In announcing their new Edition of the "Messiah," printed from a new type, on excellent paper, and in a form e iua)ly adapted fur the Pianoforte or the Concert-room. The text revised by G. F. Harris, from the celebrated Edition of Dr. John Clark. As a specimen of cheap mnsic, this book, is quite unprecedented, and it U only in anticipation o( the universal patronage it will command at the approaching Handel Festival the publishers are able to undertake it. Orders received by all Booksellers aud Musicsellers. Post free, It, id. An edition in cloth boards, gilt, 2s.

Boosey & Sons, Holies Street.

JFINCHAM, Organ-pipe Maker, Voioer, and Tdkkb, • 110 EUSTON ROAD, LONDON.

Amateurs and the Trade Supplied at the Lowest Terms.

THE CECILIAN PITCH PD?E (a new invention), for the waistcoat pocket, is superior to all others, being much more powerful In tone than any other at present in use—the pitch does not vary, whether sounded Piano or Forte—is easily repaired, or the pitch altered if required.

Price (any note) 2s. Cd. Post-free.
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Forms of Application and Prospectuses may be obtained at the Company's Office, 69 Regent Street, and ail the principal Musicsellerg in Town and Country.

Martin Cawood, Secretary.

TO COMPOSERS ABOUT TO PUBLISH J. H. JEWELL, Music Publisher, undertakes the Printing and Publishing of every description of Musical Work, greatly under the usual charges. Estimates given. 104 Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, W.C., near the BritUh Museum,

ASHDOWN & PARRY (successors to Wessel & Co.) beg to inform the Profession that they forward Parcels on Sale upon receipt of references in town. Returns to be made at Midsummer and Christmas.

Their Catalogues, which contain a great variety of Music calculated for teaching purposes, may be hud, post-free, on application.

London ; IS Hanover Square.

BLUMENTHAL'S "DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE," transcribed for Piano and played with such distinguished success by the composer at his Concert at the Marchioness of Downshire's residence, Belgrare Square, Is published, price 3s., by Duncan Davison & Co., 244 Regent Street, W. j where the song (sung by Mad. Sainton-dolby) may also be obtained, price 3s.

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Yankee Version Op The Costa-bennett Difference Have yon

heard anything of the war between Dr. Stcrndale Bennett and "Costa, Esquire," as the French newspapers call him? Costa has considerably injured himself in England by his treatment of Dr. Bennett and Verdi at the opening of the Exhibition. Do you know the origin of his quarrel with Dr. Bennett? I will tell yon. Some years ago Costa was the leader of the orchestra of the Philharmonic Society. A symphony of Dr. Bennett was among the pieees»on the programme. While the orchestra were executing it, Dr. Bennett wrote in pencil on his card these lines, and passed it to his friend Lucas, the first violoncellist of the orchestra —" For Heaven's sake beg Mr. Costa to change the time; show him, if necessary, what to do, for those Italians are the greatest ign.ramuscs on earth about symphonic music." Poor Mr. Lucas, seeing Mr. Costa's name written in large letters, imagined the card was destined for Costa, and with great delicacy read no further, but forwardod the card to Costa. You know poets seem as insensible as the rhinoceros when they are compared with musicians—judge, then, of the scene which ensued! Costa vowed by all the patron saints of Italy that he would never more have anything to do with Dr. Bennett, except so far as to do everything in his power to injure Dr. Bennett; and Costa has kept his vow as we all keep our evil promises. (111)—Correspondence of the New York Gazette.

Herr Tichatsciieck. — On the 26th instant, Hcrr Tichatschcck celebrated his "Silver Wedding." This autumn, he will have been a member of the Hoyal Opera, as well as a "benedict," for five-andtwenty years.

"The 3rd Duke of Lancaster's Own Regimental Quick March." Jasper Norwood (Preston—J.Norwood: London—Brewer & Co.)

This is an effective pianoforte arrangement of an extremely spirited march. Mr. Jasper Norwood is band-master to the regiment for which it was composed, and by whom (as well as by the 11th L. R. V. (Lancaster Royal Volunteers?) it has been repeatedly performed. Tho first part (C)—allegro marziale — is original, and not less tuneful than brisk and animated. The second part (F) is an adaptation of the popular air, "Sally come up," which serves famously as "trio," and makes a good contrast with the principal theme. This last is subsequently repeated, with the addition of a short and vigorous "coda " (C). In the fifth bar of line 4, page 5, there is a misprint—three A's for three G's—which should be corrected in the second edition; for that "The 3rd Duke of Lancaster's Own Regimental Quick March" is destined to reach a second edition, and that very speedily, we have not the slightest doubt. It is very appropriately inscribed to Colonel J. W. Patten, M.P. (Aide-de-Camp to the Queen), and the officers of the regiment.

Br JosEpn Goddard.

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


{Continued from page 462.)

The tmth ie, tho morbid condition is not, as is frequently supposed, a consequence necessarily ensuing from the possession of remarkable mental scope—a penalty accruing to the tasting of the tree of knowledge; but, to a certain extent, it is the causo of nn active and vigorous mind. It is a condition favourable to mental development. That repletion of the physical wants and emotional sympathies — that satisfaction of all cravings, external and internal, conducing- to the ideal repose of "happiness," tends to lull tho mind to quiescence — to round it by the sleep of inert Nature, in which it first unfolds the dream of a limited, repeatitive, objective life. But let the heart bo despoiled of its idol, the breast of its hope, the general being of a portion of its customary wants — and the mind will wake to energy and activity. Joy is self-content, and cares not to review its origin. Sorrow is querulous, and requires to unravel its causes. The origin of all moral philosophy ever lies in some corporeal or emotional insufficiency. It is ever the phenomena evolved by the human mind in seeking cither the cause, the cure, or the reconciliation of some of the wounds or shortcomings attending the dispensation of life.

As necessity has been stated to bo the mother of "invention," so it may be averred that disappointment is the author of philosophy. As the child pours its small sorrows into tho lap of the mother, instinctively seeking a vague but sufficient relief in her sympathy, so the mind, in its unrest, flies to the breast of nature, and gathers from the sublime, the exalted, and the eternal—empyreal balm. The original cares of the child are not removed or turned aside; but they are unfelt becauso they are shared and absorbed in tho mother's large sympathy. The griefs of tho man may not be healed; they may remain, but, blent with the general and inevitable conditions of creation, they are absorbed into the deep sympathy of nature. They partake less of the nervous and passionate spirit of humanity, and are invested, and lulled to placidity, by nature's calm and majestic spirit of abstraction.

In the normal and ordinary condition of mind and body there is an all-prevailing tendency to observe and account for the various phenomena in nature and life, from a human point of view. It should, however, be remembered, this is not the only spot of observation existent —that there is, as well as a human, an abstract light, in which nature and life may be regarded. This variety in the scope of contemplation tends to produce different perceptions of the same truth, and the two characters of observation may be compared to those two standards, by means of one or the other of which we form our

opinion of the constitution of natural influences. The one standard is formed from the impressions these influences produce on the physical or outward sense; the other from the effect they create upon a purely mental test. The first gives the verdict of the senses; tho second of science, and with rcferenco to the eliciting of moral truth, the former we compare to the human, the latter to the abstract process. Alluding to the natural world, it is well known that many very palpable effects therein, have not by far such a complete external existenco as appears; but that, on the other hand, they almost exclusively exist in the structure, character, and action of some organ or capacity in the observer. There is a similar change which occurs in certain truths of the moral world, accordingly as they are observed from a human or from an abstract point of view. For example, the phenomena of Love and Admiration are accounted for, from the human point of view, by endowing them with an almost solely external cause of existence, such as by imputing a remarkable beauty, virtue or excellence, to their object, whilst from the abstract point of observation they are regarded by the Poet in tho following passage as springing almost solely out of the internal conditions of their conceiver:—

11 Who loves raves — 't is youth's freniy; but the cure
Is bitterer still; as charm by charm unwind*,
Which robed our idols, and we see, too sure,
Nor worth, nor beatity, dwells from out the mind's
Ideal shape of such."

Thus we perceive that moral truth has often two presences, a human one nnd an abstract one, that it may vary like the colour of the chameleon, according to the point from whieh it is regarded. This is often the case with regard to the contemplation of moral phenomena involving deep and momentous truths. Change the point of view from the human to the abstract, and there is a metamorphosis in truth itself. Now, this fact, to a great extent, describes the difference between tho character, in contemplation, of a mind in the state, morbid, so called, and that of a mind in tho normal condition. What is called the morbid character of contemplation is often only that which is taken from the abstract point of view. But the mental unhealtliiness implied in this application of the term "morbid" to intellectual result, exists not so much in the mind itself as in the relationship of mind and body. This natural relationship in these circumstances is broken. Through some insufficiency relating to the health, the outward condition, or to the heart, tho being has no delight in the body, but takes up its existence mainly in tho mind. The mind thus lives in partially divested state, and in its contemplative survey roviews things less in their direct human relationship, and more in the clear, steady, and passionless light of abstraction. This is the true nature of that exceptional order of survey often improperly called morbid. Many instances of the expounding of moral truths might be given from the poets, in which what has been generally regarded as a morbid exposition is only in reality the result of a certain phenomenon being surveyed from an abstract point of view. The passage recently quoted contains one instance. So far from this abstract and divested character of contemplation leading to what is understood by morbid views of things, it can be shown that it may induce a very practical and equanimous survey of life. Thus that gloomy and disappointed cast of moral reflection which exudes into expression in the exclamation "vanitas vanitatum"—which delights to pourtray the futility of " Ambition," the unsatisfying nature of "Success" and " Fame," the fleeting character of "Happiness," and thus the general insufficiency and deception of Life—which is decidedly a morbid order of retrospect—results from a too individual and human order of survey. Fame no longer exhilarates, because the generous Bcnses which once glowed before her breath aro failing. Love no longer warms, becauso tho heart is growing cold; and Happiness docs not remain, because tho faculties which it appeals to are departing. Yet Love, Fame, Happiness are all ever bright, and in perennial bloom. They continually exist for those who possess the requisite conditions for their enjoyment.

Bcgardcd from an abstract and not from a human point of view, it is not these things that are false and fleeting; it is the individual who is changeful and human. These qualities do not decline or depart. It is the moral unit which passes away and is no more seen. The prospect docs not fade nor tho light darken as life wanes and the eye grows dim; it is the man only who dies.

We have thus far endeavoured to expose in this enquiry all the principal circumstances, moral and material, out of which tho manifestation of Poetry arises. Wc have endeavoured to discover, as nearly as possible, its relationship to tho other Fine Arts, to Nature, and Life, and to the human mind. It has been endeavoured to be demonstrated that it arises in one species of impulse, and in exuding into outward form, employs ono principle in common with all other art-demonstration. All Art being evolved out of the action of ono desire in the mind, the desire of expressing a deep emotion of admiration, and attaining expressions! form through one principle—the principle of reproducing the objects, qualities or persons that evoked the above emotion.

It has been endeavoured to be demonstrated that, whilst the fundamental impulse preceding all art-display is the same in nature and tendency, whilst the same "motion of the soul," pushing itself into expression through the demonstrative faculties of Man, consummates the general birth of Art—the modifications it endures through the rendering of these faculties, and from outward circumstances generally, divides it into the different orders of art-display — and that thus the varied branches of Fine Art arise.

It has been shown that the original art-impulse, in assuming an expression belonging to certain of these outward forms of Art, such as the expression of "Painting" and "Music," is joined by a new influence—the influence of that sensible material out of which the effects of these Arts are immediately wrought, namely Colour and Sound; that thus the original art-impulse, in exuding to outward expression through either of these mediums, is surrounded by new conditions, such as the necessary faculties for moulding effects of Colour and Sound, which depend upon the natural endowment and the artistic cultivation of the organs of eye and ear. It has been shown that the original art-impulse, in attaining manifestation in either of the above directions, is thus met by numerous conditions relating to the individual —such as the favourable endowment, and the education of the abovementioned faculties; and to outward circumstances, as to the stage of developement in which the art-materials of Colour and Sound exist, which depends upon the general state of Man—the progress of enlightenment.

On the other hand we have seen that the primary and general arttendency, in seeking expression through the medium of "Poetry," involves neither of the above circumstances, demands none of the above conditions; and from this it has been assumed that Poetry must have been the primeval Fine Art.

In the course of seeking the above conclusions it has also appeared— with reference to the general external relationship of Poetry to the other Fine Arts—that in Poetry there is no abstract effect. There is no influence proceeding solely from art-material, as is the case in the effect of the pure colour in "Painting" and in that of the pure sound in "Music."

■ It has also been inferred that the original art-impnlse being at its outset of one nature, character and tendency, whatever ultimately may be the form of its palpable manifestation—in tending towards the expression of either "Painting" or "Music," as it is here met by the demand for separate and exceptional faculties relating to the pure materials of these Arts, and the due efficacy of which depends not only upon long cultivation, but also upon natural endowment, mental and physical conformation,—that where this accident of creation of these general conditions are imperfect, this original art-impulse cannot consummate its outward expressions in these directions. It has been inferred that in these circumstances it must of necessity revert to Poetry as a medium of display—that consequently in Poetry the effects of these diverted and immatured tendencies of the mind towards the expression of Painting and Music might be expected to be visible.

In considering, in the next place, the presence in Poetry of the musical and pictorial element of aesthetic demonstration, it has been clearly shown that not only the outward features of these Arts are to be traced in poetical effect—as in scenic and imagerial clusterings with regard to "Painting," and in rhythmical arrangement and sentential design with reference to "Music" but that also the inward spirit of both these Arts is also distinctly to be discerned in the deeper constitution of Poetry. For it has been shown that some of the deepest principles regulating artistic effect, and on which high pictorial impressiveness depends, are exemplified in the poetical projections of natural scenery, and that the inmost spirit of Music (her ultimate essence, her soul, her cause, meaning and purport)—the spirit of lofty and original sentiment which invests language with tho "music"of Eloquence ;—pulsates in Poetry in the degree of vividness only falling short of that palpable yet etherial form of radiance and beauty it reveals in its unveiled reality of Music.

It has appeared that whatever abstract effect the Art of Poetry may possibly exercise, is not original, but is borrowed from that purely abstract influence indigenous to the arts of Music and Painting. But with reference to the general nature of poetical effect, it has also been further demonstrated that this does not by far partake solely of the blent, but subdued, influence of the above Arts — of the high strains, the glowing colours of their resplendent midday—sobered to soft echoes, to waning tints—sobered into the grey and breathing mass of mingled object and sound — the twilight of Poetry; but that in Poetry is a further and an original nature, in which the distant stars of moral truth are visible, shining in intense, etherial, and eternal brightness. It has been

demonstrated that, just as the presence in the nature of certain faculties favourable for developing effects of the art-materials, " Colour" and "Sound," induces the original art-impulse — that determination of the mind to reproduce, to create, to express — to put on palpable form arrayed in one or the other of the above mediums, revealing thus respectively Music or Painting, that so, in other cases, the presence in the nature of it vivid, deep, and broad mental perception, blent with the general circumstances inevitably attending the existence of the impulse of Art, such as a broad emotional consciousness and a vivid imagination, draws all the fundamental impulse of Art into the direction of Poetry— inspires its possessor to vent his admiration of beauty, not by reproducing it in the vivid reality of "Painting," or by expressing the emotion it has aroused through the fine emotional language of "Music," but by projecting it from the deep and solemn setting of philosophy, by exhibiting it, not only in its intrinsic beauty and isolated reality, but side by side as the image, exemplar, and illustration of its spiritual likeness, of its correlative moral truth.

Lastly, it has been shown that Poetry may be evoked through a process originating from a totally different source to the process which has just been detailed. That, instead of originating in admiration, and being self-prompted to exposition by a vivid mental perception, it may arise in disappointment, and be spurred to revelation through the tendency the mind, thus circumstanced, instinctively exerts to seek out in Nature or Life some image of its condition — to take refuge and consolation from the sharp individual inflictions of Providence in contemplating its dispensation upon the broad scale of Life and in Nature. It has been explained that there is consolation and relief from personal sorrow to be found in generalising the action of its particular infliction with some grand and prevailing law in Life, or even in associating it with some merely incidentally faithful likeness in Nature. It has been pourtrayed that in these processes there is a scope opened for personal emotion to merge, soften, and subside into abstract emotion. That, in the course of their action, the mind is naturally, and of itself, induced to reflect upon the higher troths of Life, and is softened into sensitiveness to the beauty and sublimity of Nature. That, from the first circumstance, its habit becomes contemplative and compensative; from the second — from its leaning upon the sympathetic breast of Nature — creative and poetical, and that thus Poetry may be formed.

Thus, whatever be the particular circumstances of its production, Poetry of the high creative phase partakes always of one nature, and ever contains the same specific attribute. It is ever the imperfect but glorious portrayal of that tendency to moral equilibrium, that master motion, continually prevailing in the world; of that progress of the events, deeds, thoughts, passions, and feelings of humanity towards the level of eternal justice and peace. The music of the ocean is the music of rest. Its surface, ever rolling and upheaved, is ever tending to the level of calmness and repose. Poetry is the ocean-music of life. It is the interpreter, in the modulations and melodies of natural beauty, of the world's deep and eternal spirit of harmony. Its specific attribute is the light of mental perception. The blent halo of palpable beauty, reflected from the Arts of Painting and Music, constitutes Poetry's form. The soul of Morality and Philosophy is its spirit. Truth is its vital spark. In the case of the arts of Painting and Music, the main artidea, the virtue, beauty, or truth forming the theme of the art-display is irradiated with the both tangible and etherial beauty which effuses from the physical material of these Arts. In the case of tho Art of Poetry, it is suffused in the chaste light of philosophy. In the former circumstances the sssthetic idea shines through a glowing medium of abstract charm, as of colour or sound, and thus all its intrinsic features are vividly and minutely pourtrayed. In the latter circumstances it is unbaptised anew in the sparkling waters of charm, it beams with no collateral effect, and thus its individual uniqueness may not appear so intense, but it diffuses around a magic mental halo which has the mystic property of glistening in the remotest distance wherever it falls upon the polished surface of sympathetic beauty and truth. Thus Poetry appears in a twofold presence, and its very effect, like that of Harmony, proceeds from this duality, this variety, in the elements of its constitution. Thus Poetry is Music — music, adorned by the melodies of Nature's beauties. Music of the mind evolved out of the concord of Creation — built upon the harmonies of the World.

Joseph Goddaed.

Neustadt-eberswalde. — The tenth "Markischcs" National Musical Festival was held on the 29th and 30th ult., under the direction of Herr Franz Miicke. It was a great success. Fifty-six associations, numbering about two thousand singers, took part in it, Berlin alone being represented by thirty-two choruses.

MENDELSSOHN'S "GONDOLA SONGS." (From "Dwight's Boston Journal of Music") We bare received various applications of late for copies of a certain descriptive analysis, "translation," or what not, of a Goudel-lied, referred to in Miss Prescott's interesting account of the authoress of "Charles Auchestcr," in the June number of the Atlantic, as having been written by us. For some time the allusion puzzled us. We had a dim recollection of something of the sort, but nothing more— some calm day of leafy solitude in the country, many years ago, when our piano served us for communion with the masters, in the pause of concerts and the absence of better interpreters than our own clumsy fingers — aided by eyes and ears, and memory, and guess, or fancy, or what not—and when perhaps we did sketch for our own amusement, and had .'the audacity to print, and speedily forgot, some poor effort to express or hint in words the feelings, images, &c, which one, perhaps more, of the "Gondola Songs" awakened in us. And whatever we may have done in that way, then or at any other time, about any other subject, was of course done more for the sake of bearing some grateful testimony to the beauty, the imaginative truth to nature, of the composition in question, than with any such impracticable thought as that of translating the music into words. For (with all deference to the gifted and lamented writer of "Charles Auchcster," and to her scarcely less gifted admirer, who has only now disclosed the real author to us) we have always known, as every really musical person knows, that words can never take the place of music and stand for it j that music supersedes words, beginning properly where these leavo off. Words cannot go where music goes, except in the humble capacity of vehicles to bear the tones proceeding from the human voice; in which case, of course, there must be a certain correspondence, chime, agreement between carrier and carried; but horse cannot commute for rider.

Well, so much by way of caution. We have hunted up the story, and we know no way by which to furnish copies to the extent requested, except by reproducing (vulgarly, copying) the old thing here. We are pleased to find that, on reading it over, it does recall the music to us much more truly than we should have expected. To us — but whether it will do so to others is another question! We may say, too, that when, for the first time, we were so blessed as to be in Venice, a little more than a year ago, these Gondel-lieder sang themselves inevitably in our mind, and we felt more than ever how near they were to nature. Strange that, in Mendelssohn's letters from Venice, he talks only of Titian and Giorgione, and of the gay scenes by daylight, and says not a word about his feelings or sensations in a gondola I No, not strange; he knew a finer language for confessions of such spiritual depth and delicacy : —music, more private than any letter to the only friend, and at the same time universal, bearing its message to all souls alive to such vibrations, which, once set in motion, run along the spiritual atmosphere for ever. This messago it was that we tried to interpret in the course of some articles, tho drift of which was to find all tho essential traits of Mendelssohn's peculiar genius, apart from his mastery of musical means, in those six books of little pianoforte poems, called "Songs without Words." Here is the part referred to.

Without words, and without names even 1 It is. music speaking for itself, or rather speaking for the human heart, disdaining any other interpreter. Each melody, with its accompaniment, is like a pure stream flowing through rich scenery. The stream is the soul's consciousness, the scenery is the world of mingled associations through which it flows, time's shadow on its surface. Sometimes, however, the accompaniment suggests unearthly scenery, enchanted regions, and the song is like the life of a soul disembodied, or translated where it knows no more the fretting bounds of time. Several of these pieces, however, have a title, indicating merely their general character: there is one styled a "People's Song s" and there are three " Venetian Gondola Songs." Let us take these latter to begin with. After being rocked by this music till it haunts your thoughts, you feel that you know Venice, though you may never have been there.

"My toul ft an enchanted boat,
Which like a sleeping swan :doth float
Upon the silvery waves of thy sweet singing."

The atmosphere, the limpid coolness of the water, the rhythm of its motion, and the soft, sad, yet voluptuous colouring of all things—in short, the very volatile essence of all that life, is, as it were, caught and perpetuated in these subtle, accommodating forms of melody. What is the-meaning of Venice in history, is a question which might perhaps be answered, if we could only tell what influence this music ministers to the mind. Hearing it, and losing yourself in it, you inhabit an ideal Venice, the soul, as it were, of the real one, without its sins and infirmities, its horrible suicidal contrasts.

The first of the three (No. 6 of the First Set) is a sustained andante, in six-eight measure The accompaniment, by a very simple figure, gives the rocking sensation of a gondola, while the "oars keep time." The gentle key, G minor, indicates soft moonlight, or starlight; and presently the song floats off, in loving thirds and sixths, full of tenderness and musing sadness, which has more of longing in it than of regret for actual suffering. It rises higher and louder at times, but never breaks through the gentle spell, always sinks back into the dreaminess of the hour. The sentiment is so pure, that one might dream himself in heaven — only the sadness makes it human. Far off in the smooth stream, the boat for a time seems fixed, suspended, and the voice alone, amid its natural accompaniments, informs the distance. Again the motion is resumed, but fainter and more remote, and as the sounds die away in the smooth shining distance, how magical the effect of those soft high octaves, ever and anon twice struck, as if to assure us that beyond it is as beautiful as here; and finally all the harmonies converge into a single note, just as broad spaces on the farthest verge and boundary of sight are represented by a single fine line! At the introduction, after the rocking accompaniment, so soft and dreamy, has proceeded a few measures, you seem suddenly to touch the water, and have a cold thrill of reality for a moment, as the harmonics brighten into the relative major of the key. The predominating expression of the air, however, is more that of tranquil, child-like harmony and peace, than of any restless passion; an innocent delight, just slightly tempered with the "still sad music of humanity." The coolness of the buoyant element allays all inward heat. In the next one (Second Set, No. 6), which is a quicker movement, marked allegretto tranquillo, and in the key of F sharp minor, there is a more stirring and exquisite delight. It rises to a higher pitch of enthusiasm, as if the heart in its still joy overflowed. The beauty of nature seems almost too much for the soul, the harmony of all things too complete. Fancy's images rise thicker than before. The hills, the clouds, the gleaming waters seem more living than before, and the soul stretches out its arms to them. Listen to that high trill, which seems to carry the thoughts up and afar, as if they had left the body to play with the fleecy, pearly clouds about the moon, while the boat glides on in its sleep unconsciously below; and then the rapture of that bold delicious cadence, with which the reverie is ended, as if tho skies came down with us to earth 1 The memory of that aerial excursion haunts the following melodies; the song floats in the middle between two accompaniments, the waves below, and a faint prolonged vibration of that same high note above, like a thin streak of sky colour in a picture. Tho last one, which is No. 5 of the Fifth Set, is perhaps the most beautiful of the three. It is in A minor, andante con moto, and still the same rocking six-eight measure. There is even more of the physical sensation of the water in this. Ever and anon the stillness is startled by a loud stroke of the key-note, answered by the fifth below, and sometimes in the lowest octave, which gives one an awed feeling of the depth of the dark element, as if a sounding line were dropped. And again the mingled gurgling and laughing of the water, as it runs) off the boat's sides, seems literally imitated in those strange chromatic appogiaturas which now and then form a hurried introduction to the regular note. The whole tone and colouring of the picture is deeper than the others. It is a song of the depth of the waters. The chords are richer, and the modulations, climbing towards their climax, are more wild and awe-inspiring. By degrees the motion grows more gentle, and the sea more smooth, and the strain melts away in a free liquid cadence, in tho major of the key, like closing the eyes in full assurance of most perfect bliss.

You feel that no soul ever conversed more intimately with nature than did Mendelssohn when he composed this music. And music only could reveal what is here revealed. If the above remarks shall prove enough to satisfy the reader that we have a feeling about this music, and that it means more than words can express, they will have answered their end as far as we dared to hope. For in truth they are not, in any sense, a description, and perhaps deserve the penalty of a rash attempt to talk about what claims the privilege to be "without words."

Stuttojlbdt. — Herr Eckert, who was at first engaged for a year only, has been appointed CapeUmeister for life. On the 27th September, tho King's birthday, his opera, Wilhelm von Oranien, will bo represented for the first time.

Herr Emil Devrient, who was born in 1804, and, since 1820, has belonged to the German stage, has resolved to retire "altogether" at the end of 1863. During his professional career of three- and-forty years, he has earned not only laurels, but a fine landed estate, and about 100,000 thalers in hard cash.

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