may properly be reckoned among primitive music, as well on account of their remarkable simplicity as on account of their plainly very ancient text) proceed very frequently from the major into the relative minor key (from C to A) or from the minor into the minor chord of the fifth (from A to E), and the reverse. When the melody moves in that way, between three or four full chords, without the mediation of the seventh, it must necessarily sound undetermined, meagre, and monotonous, pleasing as its expression may seem, especially to natives. In music in the state of nature, vocal and instrumental execution, in proportion to the mechanical progress it has made, and the greater or less difficulties to be overcome in learning it, may in and for itself constitute an art. But this art has not anything in common with the art of composition, with which alone we are now concerned, and what has no actual existence, if it be not founded on a positive knowledge and a cultivated feeling of harmony. The first step towards composition was made the moment when musicians began to fit together intervals in the harmonic form. But from that point to the beginnings of the true art, there was still, as we shall see, a long distance. The chord remained the starting point of musical science, its guide through all the dreary labyrinth of theory, the sure measure of its progress, and the goal of its technical development. The principle once found, there only needed to deduce from it the gradual results and applications; to subject the ear's suggestions to an ever more extended commentary; to compose new chords according to the given relations of the trichord, and to fix the diatonic scale. Every such discovery enriched harmony, as it then was; and since among the principal or natural chords there is not one, which, when developed, was not transformed into a member of a melodic phrase, these very discoveries prepared for the future just so many new forms and expressions; whence it follows, that perfected melody, or melody in the state of art, was and could have been only the result of the perfected knowledge of accords. The whole history of music is but the verification of this truth. Another truth, which holds as well in theory as in practice, is, that every other way to music as an art fails to conduct us to the goal, and that every system of music, which rests upon another basis than the chord, is not the art. Nay, such a system would necessarily give results, that have no place amid the phenomena of natural music, which even in its rudest inspirations is led by an instinct of the law of harmony, and of which true art is only the fulfilment, by no means the denial. Musical antiquity, represented by the Greeks, went astray upon these false systematic paths; so also did the middle age. an Ode of Pindar, deciphered in this way, by the side of a Canadian song, as if on purpose to convince the ears of all the world of the immense superiority of the Iroquois composer to those of Athens or of Corinth? We can more easily comprehend the error of the learned philologists and archeologists, who were no musicians like J. J. Rousseau. These had to declare themselves for the Greek music, first and chiefly, because it was Greek; secondly, because they had never heard it; thirdly and finally, because, as Voltaire maintains, it is the special prerogative of the deaf to judge about music, and here the ignorance outweighs the deafness. But let us be fair. How could the Hellenists, for whom genuine music perhaps were the most disagreeable, possibly resist the temptation of a rich Greek nomenclature, and of the weighty lexicography and enormous theoretic complication, which took the place of musical art with the most civilized people of antiquity? A doctrine of signs or method of notation, which embraced more than 1500 signs; a division of scales or modes according to provinces, so that there were almost as many essentially distinct systems of music, as there were territorial designations in the Hellenic confederation; the division of scales into conjunct and disjunct tetrachords, into fixed and moveable intervals, on which depended the alternation between the three genera, the diatonic, chromatic and enharmonic; then the marking of every note of the great system (which to-day appears small enough) with a particular and euphonious name, as Paranete hyperboleon, Trite synnemonon, Lychanos hypaton, Proslambenomenos! How finely that sounds, and what a poor figure our modern C, our D and our G play by the side of that! In all this a musician can find nothing but arbitrary, artificial laws in place of the laws of nature. What sort of music can that be called, which changes its scale with every change of place; which progresses by fourths (in the enharmonic genus); which has scarcely any other melody than the modulations of the voice in speaking set in notes, and no other rhythm than the long and short syllables of the poetic metre-a music which abhors all progress; which allows the addition of no more strings to the lyre, even when the player recognises the necessity of more; which believes the public morals interested in maintaining the impediments erected by its principles, which bear only the stamp of a dogmatic, that is to say, an utterly false science? It seems to me, however, that the ancients saw in music rather a national and political, than a natural institution, a universal language, whose fundamental principles are strictly grounded in itself, and which rejects every tradition outside of its own laws. Since the Greek music found itself neither in the state of nature nor in the state of art, it necessarily perished with the special conditions of its existence, which were created for it by the national prejudices and by the prosody of the national language. But how are the wonderful effects of this music to be explained? Let us leave miracles, which one can only accept when faith compels him; let us pass by Thaletas of Crete, who by his lyre delivered the Lacedemonians from the plague; also the flute as a remedy against the rheumatism; nor will we inquire whether the slaves, whom they allowed to hear Greek music while they underwent the bastinado, felt the pain essentially mitigated by this philanthropic attention of their masters; on the contrary, let us admit that the old music could produce visible effects, which equalled and probably surpassed those of the musical art in its highest perfection. The only question is, in what way this took place. A remarkable phenomenon of the last century was the earnest controversy that was waged about the ancient and the modern music, that is to say, about the known and the unknown. Two things are here to be remarked. In the first place, the two men most familiar with this, Burney and Forkel, who had sacrificed or rather wasted many years of their lives in writing a history of the Greek music, confess that they did not precisely know what the Greek music was. In the second place (and this is the most note-worthy), the advocates of the ancient and the advocates of the modern, even in the hottest part of the battle, both agreed, that the Greeks had no knowledge of harmony, so obvious was this fact to every one. This alone should decide the question-If the Greeks did not know harmony, what did they know of music? If they did not know harmony, then they had no melody, or at least they could have had no more of it than musicians in the state of nature. But they did have a peculiar system, that was much more learned and more complicated than our own. So much the worse for them; for then they must have remained beneath the state of nature, which I hold to be quitement of music, to occupy the place of both the others. History probable, and which indeed was certainly the fact, if we are to rely upon the faithfulness of the translation into notes, which the historians have given us, of some fragments of Greek music that have come down to our time. I cannot guarantee the accuracy of the deciphering; but can anybody comprehend how the most enthusiastic admirer of this music, J. J. Rousseau, could have placed the musical text of a hymn to Nemesis, and Forkel justly remarks that rhythm was everything in the ancient music. It must have been so. Since it had no harmony, and consequently, too, no melody, in the special sense which we attach to this word, there remained only rhythm, this third ele proves the rest. It shows us clearly and distinctly on this point, only a means of heightening their enjoyment; because the majesty of their euphonious speech supplied the place of melody and harmony; because their musical rhythm, constantly measured by long and short syllables, being blended with the poetic rhythm, lent more power and expression to the declamation, more accuracy and fire to the action of their players, and more clearness to the thought of the poet. More than this they did not ask of it. Such a rhythm was, precisely by its serviceableness and by its nullity, the customary and necessary heightener of the enjoyment, on which the Greeks most piqued themselves, who spoke the most beautiful language in the world, and exalted the poets to the rank of gods. Biending thus the impressions of poetry with those of music, they ascribed such extraordinary effects to the latter for the very reason that it in reality had no existence. They heard a sort of recitative, the melopoeia, which lent all possible relief to the declamation and the cadence of the verses; they were enchanted by this poetic harmony; they were physically moved by the noise of the instruments and the yet noisier beating of the time; and this commingling of sensations was called music, and this music possessed an infallible means of giving extraordinary pleasure, and of reaching the remotest listeners. The real music of the Greeks consisted of their language. In our days we shall no longer find this complete solution of the elements of music in the elements of poetry, in which some writers saw the triumphs of both arts united, but which was nothing in reality but the entire absence of our art. Yet even at this day rhythm, which was the soul of the music of the ancients, is the chief enjoyment with a multitude of men. One, who understands nothing of melody and harmony, who is put to sleep by music, the quicker the better the music is, will wake up in an instant and be completely carried away by the rhythm of a dance or march. The only enjoyment of which a great many respectable people are capable, in a concert or an opera, consists in feeling and beating the time, a pleasure of which they frequently are robbed by more artistic music. For with refined harmony and melody the rhythm ceased to rule alone and continually; instead of working only on the nerves, the music would address the soul, the imagination, nay the spiritual nature, and that without the aid of words, which it has learned to dispense with, as words could very well dispense with it. Music in a manner disembodied itself and thereby lost, as was quite natural, its real influence on the masses and its visible power over the individuals best fitted to understand it. Its real influence, I say, because the noblest and sublimest styles in musical art are much more difficult to understand, than the effects, which only bring on an excitement of the nerves; its real influence, even upon those who understood it, because impressions, which excite the senses strongly, always manifest themselves outwardly with more energy than the inward and composite emotion, wherein sensual gratification, the joys of the heart, and the pure pleasures of the mind take part at once. Among ten thousand sincere worshippers of Strauss, you will scarcely find one sincere worshipper of Bach; and we need no assurance that the famous waltz-king of Vienna electrifies his public in quite another way from what the venerable Leipsic organist ever could do, even though he played before the Conservatory assembled in pleno. Nay, even if we descend a great deal lower, to the wandering troupes of strolling minstrels and gipsies, we shall see these reaping many a time enthusiastic plaudits, such as almost never fall to the lot of an oratorio of Haydn, an opera of Mozart, or a symphony of Beethoven; and consequently, I believe I do not hazard very much in saying, that the more frequently the music is improved and elevated, the more it loses in immediate and actual effect. There would be less contention in our musical world, would people only bear this truth continually in mind. (To be continued.) MEYERBEER is composing a new cradle-song (Wiegenlied) to be dedicated to the Empress of Austria on the occasion of a birth of a prince or princess. GRISI AND MARIO.-The success of these accomplished singers at Boston has been immense. REACTIONARY LETTERS. No. VI.. (Continued from page 81.) WHAT is beautiful? A satisfactory definition of the term has never, as far as we know, been given; philosophers are still engaged in searching for it-that is philosophy! One says, it is the medicine of the soul; another, the art of living well; Plato and Newtou, the study of death; De Ségur, the study of true happiness; Madame de Stael, generalized reason; and Richard Wagner, contempt for every one except one's self, a doctrine with which Brendel completely coincides. Consequently, according to Brendel, that only is beautiful which Richard Wagner has created. We do not, however, always agree with Brendel, nor with those who proclaim, generally, there is neither ugliness nor beauty in nature; nor with those who require Providence to create another world with other examples of beauty, in order to satisfy their extravagant phantasies, like certain used-up youths and neglected old maids; nor will we ridicule philosophy, because that would be to philosophize ourselves; but we will allow that to be beautiful in music, which has not only held its ground as such for centuries, but been acknowledged to be so by the cleverest men; we will esteem vocal and instrumental music according to this standard, and take not the slightest notice of Brendel and his satellites, although fully aware of the danger attendant upon our position; for critics, like party-men, are the most merciless of all tyrants; a person must think as they do, or-die the death, in order that the authors of dramas of the future may be disturbed in nothing! Since, however, we are still alive, we will say as speedily as possible what we require from the Drama of the Future: this is nothing more or less than perfection in every part, and since the Drama of the Future lying before us begins with recitative, let us also begin with it, and require, besides correct declamation, that enthusiastic tone, that fervent heartfelt music, which Händel, Gluck, and Mozart were capable of introducing in it. With regard to the declamation, Wagner has taken great pains, and we find only few instances like that of Friedrich, "Auf meiner Seite bleibt das Recht" (Right remains on my side), where an unaccented syllable, the last of the word "meiner," is rendered by a tone a sixth higher than the first (it is true that such instances are more frequent in the arioso passages, as in "Ruhme," g, d, c, upwards, which is disagreeable); but we altogether miss anything like the deep-felt music of the heart. We do not find in Wagner's operas the slightest approach to the recitatives which Händel gave us in his operas, or oratorios, as the latter are better known, as: in Saul, the recitative of Jonathan-" Ah! dearest friend"—or that of Aschah-"Matrons and virgins"-or the recitatives of Gluck in Iphigenia, or the immortal models furnished by Mozart in the two recitatives of Donna Anna. It is true that narratives such as-“Beschirmte Burgen liess ich bauen, den Heerbann übte ich im Widerstand" (I built protected castles, and exercised the ban and arrière-ban in defence) admit of about as much musical expression as the direction on a letter, or "I am rather tired, and would feel obliged by your giving me a chair." Things of this description ought never to be put into verse. Everything that is sung should rise above the level of everyday life. With regard to the vocal music, properly so called, we require from the composer a knowledge of the voices for which he is writing, as well as of their effects, and also a manner of handling the orchestra like that taught us by Mozart and Beethoven. The instruments must move forward independently and beautifully, strengthening the expression of feeling, and not furnish merely a sort of guitar accompaniment, as with the Italians, or simply vary the voice parts, as they often do in Wagner's works, although, in his book Opera and Drama, he very warmly deprecates such a thing. Wagner wishes to do something! but this wish is thwarted partly by a certain straining after effect, and partly by a want of technical skill. He wishes to write choruses like Händel, but he is first at fault in one place, where, in five-voiced choruses, he lets the soprano sing two or three notes with the alto,-and then in another-where the tenor sings four tones with the alto, as in the chorus "Sei gegrüsst!" (We salute you.) It is is true that his blind admirers will exclaim, "He did that purposely." A man can certainly do what he likes, and we no longer meet with such fools as old Fasch, the founder of the Berlin Singacademie, who threw into the fire a grand mass for sixteen voices, which he had completed up to the "Sanctus," because he could not find for that piece a beautiful and independent sixteenth voice part. The Wagnerists would have said to him, with a smile, "Give the sixteenth voice part a few notes with the bass, then a few notes with the tenor, then a few notes with the alto, etc., and the thing is done." It is quite a different affair when the composer allows an entire melodious phrase to be sung by two voices in unison, as in the chorus in Lohengrin, "Wie fasst uns selig süsses Grauen!" (How deliciously sweet horror seizes us) which there produces a good effect; but the same plan is frequently pursued with the most remarkable results by Händel, as in his oratorio of Israel in Egypten for instance. Though we do not praise Wagner's choruses unconditionally, there are very few other operas where the choruses can boast of being so carefully worked out; but we remain true to our principle, that in the "Drama of the Future" even this branch should satisfy the most exacting conditions. Some people entertain an opinion that oratorio choruses produce such a grand effect merely because they are fugued, and that this style of writing is not at all suitable for operas. This is an error, for most of the choruses in Händel's oratorios, many in Bach's, and most in Mendelssohn's, do not contain a single instance of a fugue; it is only the management of the voice parts, the expression in every little musical phrase, and the admirable arrangement of the various tones, which render the choruses so interesting both for singers and auditors. The same is true of the orchestra in Beethoven's works. Where do we find any trace of fugue or double counter point there? It is only the participation of each instrument-not by lending merely additional force, but by a peculiar expression, a certain independence-which holds the ear of the spectator in a state of continuous attention. The arioso passages in Wagner's opera are mostly short and somewhat abrupt, although the good ones are repeated quite often enough. Lohengrin's entrance; "Nun sei bedankt, mein lieber Schwan" (thanks, my dear swan) is charming. It is fine and replete with feeling, and it was thus that Lohengrin must have thanked the swan who drew him in a boat from Spain to the Scheldt. This scene, and that of Else, which precedes it, are the best of the first act, and to these we may also add the prayer: "Herr und Gott, nun ruf' ich dich !" (the ordinary slow middle movement to be found in most finales since the time of Rossini) and the concluding movement, which smacks somewhat strongly of Carl Maria von Weber. In the prayer, the same thing which happened to Fasch, with his sixteenth voice part, happens to poor Wagner: he wants the soprano and alt to take a part, but cannot very well manage it. Five solo voices are already variously employed, and the male chorus is singing the fundamental melody to them, when it so happens that our worthy Wagner, in direct opposition to the principles he advocates, allows his female voices to sing: "Mein Herr und Gott" (My Lord and God), then wait for six bars, and then continued "Segne ihn" (Bless him). It must be confessed that they keep us waiting rather a long time for the blessing. But the rhythmical pauses are so well filled up by the female chorus-and then Wagner is something of an egotist-and we know that when reason is opposed to the interest of an egotist he never fails to be opposed to reason; and so not to look at the thing so strictly, we will say: "it has a very good effect" in a musical sense, that is, not speaking with reference to the "Drama of the Future," and then console ourselves with the idea that all human heads are, to a certain extent, but so many instruments, possessing a greater or less number, as the case may be, of strings which are either false or out of tune. Wagner's vocal music is simple. It contains but few ornaments; there is merely a turn or an appoggiatura now and then, although many a hint where the fair singer may introduce a shake with good effect. Upon the strength of this, many singers indulge in the most extraordinary freaks. I read, a short time | since, that, in recent times, instrumentalists had learnt to overcome difficulties which were most astounding, and that the human voice, in its eagerness to equal the instruments, had quite deserted its own proper sphere. This is an ignorant error! A hundred years ago the art of singing was more advanced than it is at present. More was done, only it was not noted down on paper. Every singer was obliged to have sufficient education to introduce colorature in the proper place. The skill of instrumentalists stood equally high. Only the greatest virtuosi of the present day dare to attempt Bach's compositions for the violin, pianoforte, and organ. We have some slight acquaintance with the violin, and we know of no sonnets for it more difficult than those of Beethoven. As far as our own experience goes, Allard in Paris is the only person who plays them in a superior manner. The pianoforte compositions offer quite as much difficulty, and only Liszt can altogether overcome them. In the vocal art, the singers of the present day are most certainly incapable of doing what singers did a hundred years ago. But the youth of the present day has a good opinion of itself, and Bonaparte says, "Le sot a un grand avantage sur l'homme instruit; il est toujours content de lui-même." PARIS. (From our own Correspondent.) 66 THERE has been no striking musical event in Paris this week, unless it be the reprise of Le Toreador, at the Opéra-Comique, for Madame Ugalde. This distinguished singer has not yet appeared in any new part, for, having signed an engagement to sing at Marseilles during the mouth of April, the director of the opera at that city places so high a value on her services, that he refuses all terms which have been offered for her release. She will not, therefore, undertake a new creation," as the tide of anticipated success would be interrupted in a few weeks; all novelties in which she is engaged must consequently await her return in the merry mouth of May. This, however, is of the less consequence, as the Pré aux Clercs fils the theatre twice a week, and two other nights are devoted to L'Etoile du Nord, which shines with undiminished brilliancy, while the remaining evening is given to two or three of those pleasant little operettas, whereof the répertoire of the theatre happily possesses so many. Le Toreador, by M. Adam (of the Institute), is superior to what he has lately written, and is well suited to Madame Ugalde, both as regards music and libretto. The latter, indeed, humourous, original, and full of point, is one of the best for an opera buffon that has been written. In the first act, the Toréador (Bataille) arrives from an amorous excursion, where he has gathered more blows than bonnes fortunes; his wife (Madame Ugalde) mocks, laughs at, and consoles him, in an air, "Vive la bouteille," which she sings with a charming combination of malice, fun, and espièglerie. Then follows a duet of explanation and excuses, where husband and wife reciprocally fancy they are discovered [for the fair lady knows how to console herself during the absence of her lord], and where each falls on bended knee to ask forgiveness of the other. Madame Ugalde surpassed herself in this scene. She enriched the music, without overloading it, with cadences, flourishes, and trills, in the most charming taste, and of the most perfect execution. M. Adam's bare tune was never (except by Marie Cabel) decked out in such gay colours. Without comparing him to Venus, it may be said that the composer of Le Postillon enjoys the constaut privilege of being "adorned by the Graces." M. Bataille, who can descend as low in the scale (of music, I mean) as most men, was followed in each successive descent by his loving spouse, and no escaped her quick apprehension. However, Madame Ugalde's greatest success was in the air with variations, to which poor Madame Sontag gave a world-wide reputation; it was a favourite with her, and she sang it frequently both in the European and Transatlantic cities. Madame Ugalde gave a part of the air sotto voce, while the flute accompanied and sustained her, with such delicacy, precision, and good taste, that the whole audience with one voice insisted on an encore, and would take no refusal. M. Bataille was an excellent husband note jealous of his wife, in whose perfect purity he is a firm believer, while he prides himself on his own successes, real or supposed, with the "better halves" of his friends. His appearance amply denoted the fatuous, contented, imperturbable husband, and would-be Lothario. No exaggeration disfigured his conception of the character, though he neglected no opportunity of bringing out all the farce and jollity with which it abounds. M. Mocker, as Tacolin, sings and acts well, and gives his burlesque air, "Dans une symphonie," with spirit and effect. The second concert of the Société Sainte Cécile,* was well attended, there being some cessation of the Crimean snow storm, which was in full vigour when they commenced ope- | rations. The concert opened with Mendelssohn's charming overture," A calm sea and prosperous voyage." This glorious work, well known in Paris, was well played by the band. Nevertheless, the truth must be told, the audience did not sufficiently appreciate its beauties, which appeal, by the way, to a more educated intelligence than is usually found in a Parisian concert-room. Two unaccompanied glees or madrigals for four voices, written by Ballard in 1650, were then sung by the chorus. These pieces are called with us "brunettes," and a complete copy of Ballard's compositions is so rarely to be found, that the magnificent Imperial collection in the Rue Richelieu possesses but one volume out of the three which he wrote. The two pieces selected for this occasion were "Griselidis" and "Au bord de la Fontaine;" both gems in their way, and well sung by a chorus which had been thoroughly drilled by its chief, M. Wékerlin. The audience were enchanted with a school of music quite unknown to them, but well suited to please, and they were most liberal of applause. I know not if Ballard's music is familiar to you in England, if not, it is worthy the attention of your glee and madrigal clubs. M. Pilet followed with a fantasia for the violoncello, of his own composition. M. Pilet is so good an executant, that it is a pity he does not choose his pieces among those of some other composer than himself. He is worthy of better music. M. Stockhausen then sang the Seneschal's air from Jean de Paris, and sang it well. He is the son of Madame Stockhausen, who obtained such celebrity in England some fifteen or twenty years back, by singing Swiss and other national melodies. Mozart's symphony in E flat was then played for the first time by this Society. The performance was very good, and the minuet was encored. M. Stockhausen should then have been heard in an air from Graun's oratorio, La Mort de Jésus, but feeling indisposed, he was released by the audience. The scena of "Rosamonde," by Schubert, fell to the lot of Mdlle. Montigny. She is possessed of no great compass or quality of voice, and takes unwarrantable liberties with the music, which is the more to be regretted, as she is evidently a singer of intelligence. The concert concluded with a chorus well performed by the executants, and was pleasantly ended (the concert, not the chorus) one hour and a half after its commencement. Emile Augier has had a great success at the Gymnase with his new comedy entitled La Ceinture Dorée. Judging from the title, all the world expected a piece in the school of La Dame aux Camélias, Les Filles de Marbre, &c. This the rather, that the proverb "Bonne renommée vaut mieux que ceinture dorée," [fame outvalues gilded girdle] had its origin among ladies of the class referred to. The modest women of Athens complained of the efforts made by the Grecian lorettes to resemble them in dress and appearance. A law was passed which reserved to patricians alone the right to wear the gilded girdle, encompassing the tunic. However, little by little, the lorettes [probably with the contrivance of Pericles, Socrates, Alcibiades, and other lovers of the sex] assumed the forbidden ceinture; and the distinguishing characteristic of virtue was borne by those to whom vice had long been familiar. Then a noble Athenian matron threw her ceinture into the sea, crying, "Good fame outvalues gilded girdle," and thence the proverb. M. Angier has buckled his girdle round the waist of a worthy parvenu bourgeois, but instead of being gilded, it is filled with gold. M. Roussel, the bearer of the waistband, has made his fortune at the Bourse, Vide letter of " Another Correspondent," in last number.-ED. and wishes to acquire the good fame which is wanting, by means of the golden girdle he possesses. M. Berton acted the part, and nothing could be more perfect than his change from the disdainful and insolent tone he assumes to all below him, to the fawning, cringing, mean, and humble demeanour which marks his intercourse with those in a sphere superior to his own, but to which he hopes to rise. The other parts were filled by Mesdames Rose Cheri and Figeac ; Messieurs Geoffroy and Lesnieur, whose names are sufficient assurance of justice done to the author, and of the genuine success of the piece. The yearly ball for the benefit of the Actors' Fund, held at the Opéra-Comique on Saturday last, was brilliantly attended. No women in the world so thoroughly understand the art of dress as the French actresses, and they filled the boxes in most brilliant toillettes, and sparkling with diamonds. There sat the queen of tragedy, Rachel, accompanied by one of her sisters, with that noble head unadorned by jewel or trinket. Nothing can exceed the wonderful beauty of Rachel's head, it is so massive and compressed; as though the brains of a hundred others had been welded together to form one great intelligence. Madame Stoltz was also there, radiant in jewels, with a diamond crescent, Diana like, sparkling on her forehead. She was surrounded by a brilliant court of literary celebrities. La Dame aux Camélias (Mad. Doche) reposed in state, beside her sister (Mdlle. Plunkett); she wore one white camelia in her hair; but her dress was covered with jewels and her arms blazed with bracelets. And there was Mdlle. Judith, bearing many magnificent proofs of the attachment of the Imperial Prince, lately returned from the Crimea; and Mdlle. Cico, and Mdlle. Duverger, and Mdlle. Brassine, and Mdlle. St. Marc, and Mdlle. Luther, and a host of other charming and irresistible "divinities." The ball lasted until 6 o'clock, and the Café Anglais and Maison Dorée then received into their pleasant rooms, the gayer votaries of Terpsichore. (From another Correspondent.) THE talk of the week has been about M. Victor Massé's new operetta in one act, entitled Miss Fauvette, produced on Tuesday evening at the Opéra-Comique. M. Massé is the composer of several favorite operas: La Chanteuse Voilée, Galathée, and les Noces de Jeannette. The success of Miss Fauvette is on a par with that awarded to his former works. The plot is simple, turning on the attempts of a certain blasé Englishman, Lord Tristram (M. Sainte-Foy), to stop the gaiety of Lise (Madlle. Lefebvre), a young and pretty bouquetière of twenty years of age, who, being as happy as the day is long, does nothing but sing either alone or in company with her favorite Cousin Robin (M. Jourdan). Lord Tristram christens her "Miss Fauvette" in consequence, and puts what little energy he has left into action for the purpose of stopping her singing, which keeps him in a constant state of sleepless nervousness. He first tries to succeed by daily buying up all her bouquets and making her rich. By that means he only makes Lise the happier, as she has thus the means of rendering her father more comfortable in his old age. "The devil take this incorrigible Miss Fauvette," says Lord Tristram, "I must invent some other means; suppose I ventured upon love! A girl who sighs won't sing." So he tells Lise that her cousin Robin is dying for her, which puts her in a rêverie, and Lord Tristram rubs his hands with delight. "Now," says he, "she will be quiet." Unfortunately Lord Tristram has stupidly told Robin, as a secret, that Lise is in love with him. Enchanted with this, Robin seeks Lise, and they soon understand each other. But then happiness bursts forth in song after song-which contretemps drives Lord Tristram almost to distraction. What to do? There is but one way of stopping it, and that is by making the lovers of his own creation jealous of each other. He effects this by a vile calumny, which makes them both miserable, and Lord Tristram now thinks himself triumphant, and hopes to recover his sleep and health. But no; he cannot sleep; or if he does, he has feverish dreams, is agitated by remorse, and sees in his dreams the two lovers made unhappy by his means. He rises full of remorse, and by a frank avowal of his stratagem, restores the lovers once more to happiness, and asks and obtains their pardon. The music of Victor Massé sustains his reputation as one of the pleasing composers of the Opéra-Comique school. The trio, in which Lord Tristram excites the jealousy of Robin, is clever and spirited, and was loudly encored. Mdile. Lefebvre was charming as Lise, and both acted and sang her part to perfection. MM. Jourdan and Sainte-Foy acquitted themselves admirably as Robin and Lord Tristram. The whole, however, is a sorry caricature at the expense of the English. At the Grand-Opéra, Les Huguenots, with Mdlle. Cruvelli, drew an immense house on Sunday. Mdlle. Rachel, having recovered, made her rentrée in the Czarine, at the ThéatreFrançais on Monday, which was crowded to the ceiling. The new comedy at the Odéon, La Femme d'un Grand Homme, was better received on the second representation, and may now be cited as a success. At the Théâtre-Lyrique on Monday, Robin des Bois (Freischütz) was played, followed by M. Pascal's opera of Le Roman de la Rose. On Tuesday, Le Muletier was played, and Mad. Cabel sung her aria, "Au Couvent," with success. At the Vaudeville, Les Parisiens continues to draw good houses; and the comedy by M. Lockroy, Pourquoi? keeps the audience in excellent humour. At the Gymnase the success of La Ceinture Dorée continues; so that it is not likely M. Dumas the younger's new piece, Le Demi-Monde, will be produced for some time. Neither at the Ambigu-Comique nor at the Délassements has there been anything new. FOREIGN. BRUSSELS.-The Company of the Théâtre de la Monnaie, (Grand Opéra) in the Belgian capital, are now performing at the Cirque, with success. The original theatre, built by the town, was a handsome spacious edifice. It was burned literally to ashes, nothing but the façade remaining. LEIPSIC (From a Correspondent).-" Money is the root of all evil," says Solomon, in his "Proverbs." For once, however, it has proved the "root" of some good, since our conductor at the Gewandhaus, Herr Rietz, has promised faithfully to remain for ten years, on condition that the directors raise his salary to 1500 thalers per annum. This they have consented to do; so, thanks to their liberality, we shall not lose our able and popular Kapellmeister. It would have been a real loss for Leipzic, since Herr Rietz belongs to the best class of music-directors, is possessed of sound ability, and conducts with a point and vigour only to be met with in capable and talented musicians. The fifteenth Gewandhaus concert programme included the F major symphony (No. 8) of Beethoven; Weber's Oberon overture; a solo for the French horn, played by Herr Lindner, member of the orchestra; and an Adagio and Rondo of Vieuxtemps, performed by Mr. Wollenhaupt, a violinist from New York. The execution of the eighth symphony by the band left nothing to be desired. This was also the case with the overture of Weber. Herr Lindner, who, by the bye, is the best cornist we have here. gave his solo very well, and received no small share of applause, Much of the interest of the evening was concentrated in Mr. Wollenhaupt, a young artist of no ordinary talent, whose performance in general revealed the fruits of long and diligent application. Since finishing his studies at the "Conservatorium" here, this was his first appearance in public previous to his return to America, were we are sure he will meet with success. He was loudly applauded. On Thursday, the 8th inst., the sixteenth Gewandhaus Concert took place. The programme was as follows: Beethoven's overture in C major, Op. 115; Overture by Herr F. Hiller, Kapellmeister at Cöln; Concerto for piano, composed and performed by the same; Aria by Mendelssohn, and two songs by R. Schumann, sung by Madame Botschon, from Prague; the whole concluding with the C major Symphony of Franz Schubert. The overture of Beethoven was very successful; and this was also the case with Hiller's overture, a composition, which I think had never been heard at Leipzic before. Herr Hiller, as pianist, does not belong to the modern school. His performance exhibited none of those displays of bravura to no purpose, which are so much expected in the present day. He played his concerto in a spirited and masterly style, in spite of the indifferent instrument on which he had to perform, and both the music and the execu- | tion were greatly admired. Of Mad. Botschon I can say nothing particular, she is one of "the many" "tolerable" singers about. The Symphony of Schubert, a posthumous work, was found, with the date of the composer's death (1827) on it, by Robert Schumann, in a garret among many other dusty compositions. It was first introduced by Mendelssohn, at the Gewandhaus, where it made a great sensation, and since that time has been held in the highest esteem by our connoisseurs. The audience listened with the deepest attention, and at the end applauded with enthusiasm. Madlle. Anna Zerr has not yet made her appearance in public. I hear that she objects doing so at present, as the weather is too cold for the theatre, and her health still remains delicate. These are not idle reasons, since the theatres in Germany are not heated like those in England. The Paulienergesangverein gave their annual concert on the 30th ult. at the Gewandhaus. As usual, there was an interesting programme, of which Mendelsshon was the principal feature. The room was crowded, and the applause great. Mad. Krebs-Michalesi sang at the thirteenth Subscription Concert in the Gewandhaus, and was well received. Among the other popular artists who are engaged for the above concerts are Herren Bazzini, A. Dreyschock, and J. Schulhoff. The hundredth anniversary of Mozart's birthday will be celebrated in January, 1856, but, previously, we shall have a new biography of the great master written by Herr Otto Jahn, and containing somewhere about 300 of Mozart's letters. I am happy to say that Herr Robert Schumann has completely recovered. BERLIN. (From our own Correspondent.)-Madlle. Agnes Büry has been favourably received at the Royal Operahouse, as Amina in La Sonnambula, and Lucia in Lucia di Lammermoor.Young Arthur Napoleon has made a hit at Kroll's Establishment, where he appeared for the first time last Wednesday. On Friday, Messrs. Roger and Vivier gave their second concert, which was rendered still more interesting by the first appearance of Miss Arabella Goddard, who played a prelude by Bach, and Stephen Heller's arrangement of Mendelssohn's "Auf Flügeln des Gesanges." The audience were perfectly enraptured with her performance, and rewarded her with thunders of applause. The critic of the Königlich priveligirte Berlinische Zeitung speaks of her as follows :: "I had intended to hear only the last pieces of the second part, but lo! and behold! either the commencement had been frozen, or something had retarded the performance, for I found that only the first pieces of the first part were over. My lucky star conducted me to my place in the room just in the middle of Miss Goddard's charming performance-she was on the point of completing, under loud applause, Bach's Prelude. When I say 'to my place,' that was not the case. I am guilty of an untruth. I mean not to my place,' for the room was so crammed-and with such a brilliant audiencethat I found it impossible to get any other place than that next the door. I stood, therefore, as if on guard, and very willingly I did so. Miss Goddard is a mildly-beaming, precious jewel of pianoforte playing, which glitters with the most beautiful colours. If she is not a jewel of the most dazzling fire, she is at least of the purest water. I would not be understood as asserting by this that she is deficient in fire and sparkle, or that her soft touch is without very great strength and energy; on the contrary, she is capable of every shade of feeling, down to the most delicate whisper of a pianissimo. In the composition of Händel which she played, this diminishing climax was especially effective in several repeated flights. In the second part of the concert when she performed Stephen Heller's transcription of Mendelssohn's "Auf Flügeln des Gesanges," she displayed the sterling gold of her brilliant skill in the modern style. She sang the melody with the most heartfelt expression, with the most delicate gradations of light and shade, while the figures of the accompaniment flew with light and graceful pinions over the keys. Most hearty and sincere applause -not forced and got up by clique and clacque, as was the case with some one else towards the conclusion of the concert-was the wellmerited reward of the fair artist." Both M. Vivier and M. Roger came in for their full share of applause.* *Vide last number of M. W.-ED. |