stage" of the people, was, however, that the "show players," who for this reason especially assumed this name, communicated, when on it, with the eye, and, purposely, almost exclusively with it. Their representations in the open air, before the farspreading multitude, could work almost solely through their gestures, and only actions can be clearly conveyed in gestures, and not-immediately speech is wanting-the inward motives of them, so that the acting of these performers was, from its nature, as full of grotesque action, massively heaped up, as the romance, the multifarious contents of which the poet was endeavouring to reduce into a smaller compass. The poet who watched this "show play" of the people, of course saw that, from the want of an intelligible language, it was forced into the most monstrous diversity of action, as the narrative romantic poet was, from the incapability of really representing the persons and events he described. He was obliged to call out to the actors: "Give me your stage and I will give you my language, and thus we shall both profit." the drama to the romance with its motley contents, and the history with its multiplicity of action. If the poet, whose object had been, up to this time, only the actually speaking representation of the romance, did not yet feel the necessity of a representation, true to nature, of the surrounding scene as well, he could not experience either the necessity of compressing, into a still more decided limitation of its most important moments, the action to be represented. We perceive from this, most evidently and clearly, how, for the most perfect shaping of the work of art, the determining necessity alone, which, in conformity with the nature of art, induces the artist to turn from the imagination to the senses, forces him to excite the imagination from its indefinite activity to sure and intelligible efficiency through the senses. This necessity, fashioning all art, and the only thing that satisfies the efforts of the artist, arises only out of the definiteness of a universally material view of the matter; if we are perfectly just to all its pretensions, it impels us also to the most perfect artistic creations. Shakspere, who did not experience the one necessity of having the surrounding scene true to nature, and who, therefore, sifted and compressed the varied contents of the romance, treated dramatically by him, only just as much as was required by the necessity experienced by him of a narrowed stage and limited time for the action represented by actual human beings-Shakspere, who, within these limits, vivified history and romance to such a pitch of convincing and characteristic truth, as to represent for the first time human beings of a varied and drastic individuality, such as no poet before him had ever been able to pourtray-this same Shakspere, has been, nevertheless, in his dramas, not yet fashioned by the necessity in question, the cause and the starting point of an unexampled confusion in dramatic art, for the space of two hundred years, down to our own days. We now see the people's "show stage" reduced by the poet, for the benefit of the drama, to the proportions of the theatre. Just as the action itself had to be compressed, by the clear exposition of the motives which produced it, to well-defined moments of the greatest importance in it, it was evidently necessary to compress, also, the scene of action, and that out of consideration for the spectator, who was now no longer to see only, but to hear distinctly as well. After being exerted on the space, this compression had to be extended to the duration of the dramatic performance. The stage of the Mysteries of the Middle Ages, erected in broad meadows, or in the large open squares and streets of cities, offered the assembled multitude a spectacle that lasted for a whole day, or indeed-as we learn at present-several days together; entire histories, complete biographies were produced, the continually arriving and departing crowd of spectators being enabled to select for the gratification In the Shaksperian Drama, there was, as I have expressed of their sight-seeing propensities exactly what struck them as myself, a door left open for romance and loosely constructed most worthy their attention. Such a performance was the per- history, through which they could go in and out as they pleased: fectly suitable counterpart of the prodigiously varied, and multi-this door was the representation of the scene left to the imaginafarious histories of the Middle Ages themselves; the exceedingly tion. We shall now see that the confusion produced by this, active personages of these read histories were precisely as mask- progressed in exactly the same proportion that the door was like and characterless, without individual vivifying impulse, slammed-to, from the other side, in the most reckless manner, wooden and coarsely-fashioned, as the representatives of those and the experience of the deficiency of the scene was the impelthat were exhibited. The same reasons that determined the ling cause of arbitrary acts of violence against the living drama poet in narrowing the action, and the scene where the latter itself. (To be continued.) took place, necessitated his compressing the duration of it, as well, because he wished no longer to present fragments to his audiences, but a Whole complete in itself, thus making the strength of the spectator's capability to devote his uninterrupted attention to an attractive subject when presented to him, the standard for the duration of the performance. The work of art which, like the romance when read, appeals only to the imagination, may very easily be interrupted in its communication, because the imagination is of so capricious a nature, that it obeys no laws except those of the whim of the moment; but whatever appears before the senses and would communicate itself to them with convincing and unfailing decisiveness, has not to shape its course simply in accordance with the quality, capability, and naturally limited power of such senses, but to present itself to them complete, from head to foot, from beginning to end, if, from a sudden interruption or imperfectness in its production, it would not again appeal, for its necessary completion, to the imagination, which was precisely that from which it turned away to the senses. There was only one thing still left, upon this narrowed stage, entirely to the imagination-the representation of the scene itself in which the performers appeared, in conformity with the local requirements of the action. The stage was hung round with tapestry, and a tablet, that could be easily changed, informed the spectators whether the place, that was to be thought a scene, was a palace, street, wood, or field. From this one necessary appeal to the imagination, an appeal that could not be avoided by the theatrical art of that period, the door was still left wide open in *The literal translation of the German Schaubühne and Schauspieler. Gardens, Belle Vue, on Monday afternoon, proved very successful. The IBID. Mr. W. Hill has explained a method for teaching the notes on the staff, in the Patricroft Mechanics' Institution. He tried the system, at the request of the teacher, on the children attending the school, with a view of showing how easily pupils could be taught to remember musical notation. MR. COSTA'S ORATORIO. (From Aris's Birmingham Gazette.) THE poem, from the pen of Mr. Bartholomew, is entitled Eli, and the subject is taken from the Book of Samuel. The Oratorio is divided into two parts. The first part opens with the celebration of the Festival of First-fruits; Elkanah and his family having come for that purpose to Shiloh, where, with Hannah (his wife,) he offers his yearly sacrifice in the Temple of God. After this ceremony Eli discovers Hannah praying; he rebukes her, supposing that she is drunken; but on finding that she has spoken out of the abundance of her grief, he dismisses her with his blessing. In the precincts of the Temple, Eli, with sorrow, overhears his sons, Hophni and Phineas, riotously singing with the women assembled at the door of the Tabernacle. For this dissolute conduct they are rebuked by a chorus, which threatens them with the anger of the Lord. The "Man of God"-the man appointed by God to declare His will-reproves the Levites for the abuses committed by them in the Temple, and prophesies the speedy invasion of the Philistines, who gather for war, and advance against Israel. The Man of God declares the Lord's anger to Eli; but, finding him contrite, joins in his prayer for mercy and forgiveness. Hannah returns to the Temple, and with thanksgiving fulfils the vow she had made to dedicate Samuel, her son, to the Lord. In the second part, the child Samuel is ministering in the Temple. His parents, Elkanah and Hannah, visit him, and Eli finds them instructing their child; after which they separate, blessing each other. The Israelites, encouraged by Eli, and entreating the aid of God, go forth to repel the Philistines. Samuel concludes his daily duties with an evening prayer, and falls asleep, his couch guarded by angels. While he sleeps, the defeat of the Israelites is announced in the city, spreading grief and dismay. Eli's sons depart to the army, carrying with them the ark of God. Samuel is called by a voice in the night; believing the voice to be Eli's, he rises to inquire the old man's will, but Eli perceives that the voice is the Lord's. The child again lies down, while Eli, restless on his bed, hears the Temple guards singing their night-song. On their proclaiming that the morning has gone forth, Eli calls Samuel, hears from him the doom pronounced by the Lord, and receives the decree with contrite resignation. The ark arrives in the camp of Israel, and is hailed by the people with shouts of joy. The Philistines are daunted; but, cheered by their leaders, they rush to battle, and defeat the Hebrews. The fatal news is communicated to Eli, while sitting by the way-side anxiously watching, and trembling for the safety of the ark. The slaughter of the army, the death of his two sons, pierce, but, break not his heart: but, when he hears that the ark of God is taken by the Philistines, he falls down and dies. A fast of humiliation is proclaimed; and the people, assured that their repentance will appease the wrath of the Lord, bless His holy name in a chorus, which concludes the Oratorio. MAYENCE.-On the 1st instant, a grand musical festival, arranged by the Liedertafel of this town, for the benefit of the VerschönerungsVerein, took place under the direction of the Capellmeister, Herr C. Reiss. The Quartett-Verein, from Wiesbaden, the Liedertafel, from Würzburg, and the Mozart-Verein, from Darmstadt, as well as deputations from the Offenbach Gesang-Verein, the Frankfort Germania, and the Mannheim Musik-Verein, arrived in the course of the forenoon by rail, and were received by the members of the Liedertafel. Accompanied by flags and music, the visitors passed over the bridge into the town to the head-quarters of the Liedertafel, where they were warmly welcomed by the president. They then adjourned to the theatre, and held a general rehearsal. At five o'clock they proceeded, in the order they had come, to the Neue Anlage, where the festival was held. The programme consisted of "Die Liebe," by Cherubini; "Liedersfreiheit," by Marschner; "Kriegers Gebet," by Lachner; Chorus from Euryanthe; "Lenzfragen," by Lachner; "Normann's Sang," by Kücken; and Mendelssohn's magnificent Festgesang an die Künstler, besides a duet from Haydn's Creation, and the overtures to Oberon and Tannhäuser, DRAMATIC. FRENCH PLAYS-ST. JAMES'S THEATRE.-On her way to Liverpool, whence she sails for America, Mdlle. Rachel has stopt in London to give four of her most popular representations. The advent of the great tragédienne amongst us was unlooked for; we had, indeed, but little hope of ever seeing her again in the British metropolis. Her coming was, therefore, an agreeable surprise, which doubtless added to the excitement caused by the announcement. No sooner did it appear in black and white that Mdlle. Rachel would play on four certain nights, than numerous and thirsty applicants besieged the box-office, eager to quaff draughts of delight, at the fount of dramatic inspiration. The four plays selected were, Les Horaces, Phèdre, Adrienne Lecouvreur, and Andromaque-all different, and well adapted to exhibit the versatility of the actress. Of the characters sustained by Mdlle. Rachel in these four plays, it would be difficult to say which is embodied with the greatest power, which represented with the greatest effect. Each has its special admirers; for ourselves, we only yield the palm to that in which we have last only to be replaced by her next assumption. When we behold seen Mdlle. Rachel, as it lives in our mind's eye and dwells there Camille, we are lost in contemplation, and sympathise with the young girl who, like a fragile flower that grows among rocks, finds nothing congenial in the world around her. Phèdre we seem to be lifted above humanity. The soul is shaken, to be purified; and even crime becomes an object of deep interest through the transcendent reality with which the guilty passion is assumed. The Phèdre of Rachel is an exemplification sympathies are more consulted, we the more readily enter into of the true sublime in acting. In Adrienne Lecouvreur, as our the feelings of the heroine; and in this part, perhaps, Mdlle. Rachel has gained more admirers among the multitude than in either of the other two. The character is more "of earth, earthy.". Though the play belongs to the romantic as opposed to the classic school, and the incidents and situations are entirely domestic, there is nothing, we imagine, more powerful and profoundly impressive in the acting of the great tragédienne than the death scene of Adrienne Lecouvreur. Hermione, in love, hatred, revenge and despair in turns having the mastery, Andromaque, exhibits a greater variety of conflicting emotions, until the very life of the wretched victim of ill-placed affection and inconsiderate vengeance seems to go out in a torrent of maledictions. In In the various phases of these different characters, Mdlle. Rachel is incomparable, and defies criticism, which should be taught by such an actress rather than pretend to teach her. Of these performances of Mdlle. Rachel we have frequently spoken at length. It is not necessary therefore, now, to enter further into detail, or to repeat our glowing eulogiums of her genius. Enough that the powers of the transcendent actress are undiminished; that her art is, if possible, still more inimitable than before; that she is again, in look, deportment, action and expression,the veritable Queen of Tragedy. Vivat Regina ! Les Horaces was performed on Monday; Phèdre on Wednesday; Adrienne Lecouvreur last night; and the series-as announcedwill conclude with Andromaque, to-night. The theatre has been crowded with rank and fashion, in spite of the lateness of the season, and each performance has been received with even more than the old enthusiasm. ARMAGH.-(From a Correspondent.)-On Wednesday evening, Herr F. G. Thomas, bandmaster of the Armagh Regiment, and his brother Herr F. Thomas, first violinist to the Grand Duke of Hesse Darmstadt, assisted by Miss Webbe and other artists, gave a vocal and instrumental concert, in the Tontine Rooms, under the patronage of Col. Caulfield, Major Cross, and the officers of the Armagh Regiment. The concert was attended by a highly respectable audience. The Armagh Militia Regiment is fortunate in having secured the services of Herr Thomas, one of the most able bandmasters in the service, and a skilful horn-player. He executed several pieces with great effect, and was encored twice. Herr F. Thomas, the violinist, has a good tone and a vigorous style of execution. He obtained an encore in De Beriot's Violin Concerto, and another in the "Tremolo " of the same composer. Miss Webbe, Miss C. Webbe, and Master F. Webbe; sang a glee, acquitting themselves with credit. Mr. Smith was the pianist. The whole concluded with the National Anthem. MARRIED. ON the 26th July, Robert Edward, youngest son of Mr. C. Lonsdale, Old Bond Street, to Miss Rosalie Thémar, pianiste. THE MUSICAL WORLD. LONDON, SATURDAY, August 4th, 1855. No one here who reverences genius and loves fine acting can have failed to attend the representations of Mdlle. Rachel at the St. James's Theatre, during the past week. Three more performances (in Andromaque, Mad. de Girardin's Lady Tartuffe, and Adrienne Lecouvreur) will take place this evening, Monday, and Wednesday. When the curtain has fallen on the last of these, who knows if ever again in England we shall see and applaud the greatest tragic actress the world has probably known? It is, at least, doubtful. Rachel is no longer very young, although in spite of all the French critics that ever vainly essayed to pull down an idol from the pedestal on which they had some hand in placing it—she is greater than ever, and therefore incomparably greater than anything else the histrionic art can boast. Seeing Rachel is seeing the last of a sublime art. The classic drama is dying on her lips; she has, by the vivifying breath of genius, warmed up its expiring embers into a transient flame; but, when her eagle spirit has fled, the drama of the great poets of her country will sleep in eternity. It will thenceforth be only a matter of magnificence and memory-a glory of the past. The father will say with pride-"I have seen Rachel, and remember her well" (how could any one ever forget her?)-but his children will hardly appreciate the glowing ardour with which their parent conjures up once more the matchless impersonations he has witnessed; a quiet smile will steal across their faces, and, if they happen to know Latin, they will mutter to themselves a well-known proverb about the praises of things that are gone. And yet Rachel is still a living fact-still among us, burning with an inward fire that consumes her. She may be seen, and applauded, by those who come away from the theatre in Oxford-street, dazzled with the glittering show of Henry the Eighth, or perplexed with the elaborate revelations of the eleventh French Louis. From the temple of Kean to the temple of Rachel is ten minutes' ride in a cab. Amateurs, curious in histrionic idiosyncracies, and who, in contempt of Dogberry, insist on drawing comparisons, may, if they please, compare the son of a transcendent actor with the transcendent daughter of a Swiss colporteur-"a Jew, an Ebrew Jew"Charles Edmund Kean with Elizabeth Rachel Felix. actors. "Look here upon this picture and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two" But Rachel! What a world of associations attaches to that name!-what a gallery of unequalled portraits it recals! Phèdre the Queen, whom Venus hated and afflicted with a leprosy of the soul, an incestuous passion-Camille, the Roman maiden, who loves her love more fondly than she loves her country-Hermione, who, loving where she is despised, and despising where she is loved, urges on the man she rejects to revenge her affront upon the other, and when her wish is accomplished turns suddenly upon him with curses-Marie Stuart, that other Queen, more gentle, less guilty, but not less unfortunate than the fate-struck Phèdre -Roxane, the proud, impetuous, favourite of the Turk Pauline, the pagan wife, who is suddenly persuaded of the truth of Christianity on the martyred body of her husband, and whose sublime "Je crois," which would do more to convert an unbelieving nation than ten thousand preachers and as many sermons,* * illumines a lengthy, dull, and five-act play into a blaze of eloquent truthAdrienne, the gifted actress, the Rachel of her time, who loves, not wisely but too well, a warrior and a treacherously by a jealous and infuriated rival,-Joan of worldly man, and dies of poison, administered to her Arc, the peasant, patriot, fanatic, and martyr-Valerie and Lycisca, the Empress and the courtesan, two in oneLady Tartuffe, etc., etc. the list is endless!-all these incomparably finished pictures rise up, at the enchanted name of Rachel, in rapid alternation, like the visions of the vain-that is, if he venerates the drama, not merely as an kings before Macbeth. Who has not seen them has lived in art, but as a school of morality, a mirror through which men may see themselves and amend their faults; if he does not, why then, tant pis!-he has a sense the less and an enjoyment the fewer. Grant that poets are, as Shelley says, "the unacknowledged legislators of the world," and dramatists, as Shakspere and Molière have proved, them, and what favours lavished on their best interpreters? the greatest among poets, what honours should not be paid Rachel is the chosen mouth-piece of the departed kings of melody; and those to whom her performances are indifferent, must be men-like Rosalind's husband— "Hard, selfish, loving only gold." + Such as these have no music in their souls-nor any kind of enthusiasm. They are only fit to go through the world like moles that burrow in the earth, or owls and bats that cannot eye the sun. The beautiful is to them nothing; the poet sings, the minstrel has strung his harp, in vain; no chord within them vibrates to the sweeping harmony of the lyre. Nature's infinity of sweet sounds finds no echo in their hearts. If there are such men, however, there may still be time for repentance. Go-infidels !—to Rachel, and listen to that musical voice, whose soft low tones seem to weep for the instability of earthly things, whose eyes are as the prophetic fire that lights the future, whose face and form combine in presenting the most transcendent picture of ideal loveliness that ever delighted mortal gaze; go-to Rachel, the gifted, the wonderfully inspired woman; listen, believe, implore her, and be saved! But approach not too near; neither reason nor criticise. The genius of Rachel is like the Sun; if you gaze too intensely you are blinded with excess of light. And take no book with you. While your eyes are on the book you lose a thousand beauties. Between the dead letter and the living voice and presence there is a world, which if you would pass and be enlightened, cast the book away. The French Classic Drama is to be seen, not read-seen in the eyes of Rachel. It is the corpse of the old myth-bloodless and pulseless. Rachel has taken it up in her arms, and lo! it breathes, and walks, and sings, with the ancient melody and the ancient fire. In her, its life, and health, and vigour are renewed. It strikes with awe, like Sophocles, and wrings the "On Monday night"-wrote the dramatic critic of The Times (in July, 1850), "by a single scene, or rather we might say by a single had already achieved." word in that scene, Mdlle. Rachel achieved, even surpassed, those she + Shelley's Rosalind and Helen.' heart, like Shakspere. Or is it a lifeless effigy dug out of Parian marble? The sublime daughter of Israel has raised her finger; the lips of the statue become red, the hollow caverns of the eyes are animated, the breast heaves, the limbs quiver the whole is in motion !-the shrivelled stone, loosened into drapery, falls gracefully from the shoulders that now glow with life, clings to the yielding form, and hangs in rich folds from the beckoning arm. Proud with awakened sense, the statue walks erect, and a voice, like the music of the Egyptian image upon which Apollo suspended his lyre at sunset, flows from the divided mouth, and fills the air with strange and plaintive harmony! A MOST unjust and illiberal attack has been made on Mr. Costa, by a Paris journal-Le Messager des Théâtres et des Arts—which we are induced to notice, quite as much for the sake of M. Meyerbeer, whose name is used as a peg upon which to suspend the calumny, as of the celebrated chef-d'orchestre himself. It is well known that Mr. Costa directed the performance of L' Etoile du Nord on the night of its first representation; and it is equally notorious that this was at the earnest desire of the composer, who would on no account be persuaded, either by Mr. Costa or the management, to preside in the orchestra. How satisfied, nay, charmed, was Meyerbeer with the zeal, the attention, and the high intelligence displayed by Mr. Costa, in rehearsing L'Etoile du Nord and conducting the performances, may be gathered from the repeated assurances of the celebrated composer himself, who was on several occasions heard to declare that he should feel grateful to Mr. Costa all his life. Nevertheless, in the face of all this, which is as true as gospel, the London correspondent of Le Messager des Théâtres-Mr. John Kattley (who was in Paris when the Etoile du Nord was performed)-concludes his notice of the "solemnity" as follows: "The celebrated maestro did not conduct in the orchestra, as the public had hoped. The fault was M. Costa's, whose tyranny, as chefd'orchestre, becomes more and more unbearable, and who, with an inexcusable selfishness, would not understand the wishes of M. Meyerbeer, nor those of the subscribers to the Opera. In order to associate M. Costa with the triumph of the composer, his Italian friends gave him a sort of ovation at the end, which, being as unmerited as it was misplaced, was simply ridiculous." Had this unfair and utterly false account been confined to the columns of the paper for which Mr. Kattley writes, we should have left it to refute itself. But it has been copied into several other journals, and must not, therefore, be passed without censure. A writer in L'Europe ArtisteM. Desolme-who is better informed, has given his readers the truth, and in a great measure supplied the antidote to the poison of his contemporary. We append his remarks, as a fair set-off against those of Mr. Kattley "M. Costa was loudly applauded on his entrée into the orchestra; and at the end of the opera he had the honour of a recall. These man festations were made with a view of acknowledging the great pains that M. Costa had taken with the rehearsals, to which the presence of the illustrious composer of the Etoile du Nord gave double importance. A contemporary affirms that M. Costa exercises in Covent Garden an unbearable tyranny, that he is selfish in the extreme, that he refused to consult the wishes of M. Meyerbeer in yielding the baton to him as chef-d'orchestre on the first performance, and, lastly, that the ovation accorded to M. Costa at the end of the opera was as unmerited as it was ridiculous. "All opinions from the press, whether favourable or unfavourable, have a right to be hearù; and we will not deny this right to the adversaries of M. Costa. What we know ourselves, however, is that Meyerbeer-who is quite aware of the value of his works, and will not hear of their being placed before the public until he feels assured the performance will be perfect-Meyerbeer, we repeat, would have put himself at the head of the orchestra had he felt the least doubt of the result. But the composer of the Huguenots and Robert had no occasion for any such step, feeling thoroughly satisfied, as he did, with the general excellence of the execution. We cannot, therefore, see that the demonstrations in favour of the acknowledged chef-d'orchestre, M. Costa, had anything at all ridiculous about them." the band. We go further than L'Europe Artiste, and persist in believing that Meyerbeer exercised a great degree of discretion in committing the fate of his work to the hands of so able and experienced a conductor, who, besides his unquestionable talents, stands so high in the estimation of his followers, and whose plain and emphatic manner of beating is so thoroughly understood by every individual member of That Meyerbeer was equally surprised and delighted, we know to be a fact. After all, we can only feel pity for those, who, to compass no matter what inscrutable ends, would fain stir up ill blood the real aim was to disgust the composer of L'Etoile du Nord, between M. Costa and M. Meyerbeer. Perhaps, however, and prevent him from ever coming to England again, in order that his genius and his influence might no longer stand in the light of a certain small clique of unknown composers, who would gladly force their manuscript operas upon Mr. Gye, drive the subscribers from the stalls and boxes, and expel even the spiders, as we said on a former occasion (apropos of a certain Benvenuto Cellini), from the of the cabalroofs and scaffoldings above the stage, with a new infliction ETTA! M. ETIENNE EGGIS-a correspondent of our contemporary, L'Europe Artiste-writing from Munich, while displaying a highly commendable enthusiasm for the late Mendelssohn Bartholdy, falls into some inexactitudes which it may be as well, as our neighbours say, to "relever." Alluding to a performance of the Antigone of Sophocles, with Mendelssohn's music, M. Eggis says: "Last week we had a spectacle quite new to a Parisian-and to myself, although I am only half a Parisian.-This was the Antigone of Sophocles, translated by J. J. C. Donner, with the magnificent music of Mendelssohn Bartholdy. The mise-en-scène was correct to a degree unknown in France. It was the antique tragedy in all its grandiose simplicity, faithful in everything to tradition. But alas!the spectacle would have been one of profound ennui. While M. Dahn Kings depart, and without the superb music of Mendelssohn Bartholdy (Créon, King of Thebes), Malle. Damböck (Antigone), etc., etc., were burning their lips with the difficult interpretation of old Sophocles, and the implacable word of ancient fatalism hung over the audience either astonished or bored, I was dreaming of that young man of Bartholdy-a poor eaglet that consumed itself! Dead at an age when genius, that Beethoven who died before maturity, called Mendelssohn others begin at twenty-seven, I believe! Mendelssohn Bartholdy, who wrote Paulus, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and that sublime oratorio which bears the name of Elias-Elias, which Mendelssohn Bartholdy composed at the age of nineteen! This work is now the property of the Kapelmeister at Ratisbon, M. Mettenleitner, who received it from the dying Mendelssohn on condition that he should never allow it to be copied. Elias, to my knowledge, has never been executed but once-at Ratisbon. It demands 99 executants, and 300 chorus. Mendelssohn, had he lived, would, perhaps, have been greater than Beethoven!" If M. Etienne Eggis should take it in his head to pay England a visit (in company with Meyerbeer) about the end of next month, he will have an opportunity of hearing the masterpiece of Mendelssohn at the Birmingham Festival, for which great meeting it was, as we all know, composed, and at which it was first performed, under the direction of the composer himself, in September, 1846-the year before his death. Our capital allies are not very amply informed about Mendelssohn and his works. We may therefore, with the best good feeling, instruct an intelligent camarade (whose enthusiasm we devoutly share) about certain points with which our readers are thoroughly familiar, and for alluding to which they will no doubt excuse us. Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy was born in 1809, and died in 1847; so that he was.in his 39th year when he quitted this world—instead of being twenty-seven, as M. Eggis has been misinformed. The oratorio of Elijah (Elias), his last completed great work, was composed in 1846, when Mendelssohn was thirty-seven —that is, nearly twice the age M. Eggis gives him. It has been performed in various parts of Great Britain, including the metropolis of England, many hundreds of times, and has attained a popularity equal to that enjoyed by the immortal Messiah of Händel. We never before heard of M. Mettenleitner, the Ratisbon Kapelmeister, to whose care it was committed by the composer on his death-bed." The story is inexplicable, since Elijah has been played in nearly all the great musical towns of Germany, in spite of the Schumannsbundler, the Lisztsbundler, and the Wagnersbundler. Italy and France alone are unacquainted with it. Even the Yankees over the Atlantic know it by heart. (Ask Mr. Dwight of Boston.) We can only, therefore, come to one conclusion—namely, that M. Eggis must refer to the Reformation Symphony, which the four misguided men at Leipsic, who persist in burking the correspondence and the MSS. of the illustrious composer, so obstinately withhold from the world, and which was once performed at Ratisbon. It is also rather strange that M. Eggis, who is "half a Parisian," should not be aware that a French version of Antigone, with Mendelssohn's music, was many years ago executed (literally) at the Odeon, in Paris, when M. Bocage played Créon.* We feel certain that these remarks will give no displeasure either to our excellent contemporary, L'Europe Artiste, or to M. Etienne Eggis, who demonstrates so warm a sympathy for the genius of Mendelssohn. Had we thought otherwise, we should have refrained from making them, and spared our readers a recapitulation of facts with which they have been long so intimately acquainted. ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA. THE Huguenots was given on Saturday, when Mad. Grisi and Sig. Mario appeared for the last time this season. The crush to the pit and amphitheatre was so great that it was a miracle there were so few accidents. As usual the renters made themdisregard for the convenience of ladies, and their insolent and selves conspicuous by their vulgar obstreperousness, their utter domineering conduct towards the gentlemen who happened to be in their way. Some squabbles took place, and complaints were made by those who could not be accommodated with places; but, beyond these inevitable consequences of an overcrowded theatre, nothing very serious occurred. Every seat in and boxes. In short, a no less numerous audience came on the house had been taken, and premiums were offered for stalls Saturday night to bid Grisi once more farewell" for the season, than that which flocked to take an eternal leave of her last year. Of course the great prima-donna will be re-engaged. The superb manner in which she sang and acted the part of Valentine on Saturday, and the clearness and vigour of her tones, authorise the directors in using every endeavour to obtain her services for next season. Mario, too, was superb. Never, we devoutly believe, did he sing more magnificently, or produce a deeper impression on the public. The great duet which follows, the "Bénédiction des Poignards," was applauded to the echo; Grisi and Mario recalled twice, at the fall of the curtain, and the stage was literally covered with bouquets. At the second recal the enthusiasm of the audience rose to the highest pitch, and the Duchess of Cambridge and the Princess Mary themselves threw splendid bouquets from their box, both of these distinguished individuals kissing their hands to Grisi. The excitement was renewed at the end of the performance; and yet no one said when the curtain fell-"We have seen the last of Grisi !" On Monday, an "extra night,” L'Etoile du Nord was given for the fifth time. On Tuesday, the Prophète was represented for the first time considerable period, was loudly cheered on his entrance. He this season. Signor Tamberlik, who had not appeared for a sang magnificently and created a greater sensation than ever in the famous scene where the false prophet is crowned Emperor of Germany. dot exhibits the highest qualities of an artiste, it is Fides, in and in London, and to this she is indebted for no small share of the Prophète. In this she achieved her greatest triumph in Paris, her reputation. If there is one character more than another in which Madame Her performance, on Tuesday night, indicated no falling off. The same artistic elaboration, the same dramatic intensity, the same earnestness, the same vocal facility were displayed as on former occasions, and the audience, just to their past impressions, were eager in according their approval. Madame As he did afterwards in London, at the St. James's Theatre, Viardot produced a marked sensation in the Coronation scene, under Mr. Mitchell. M. ALEXANDRE BILLET has left London, for Paris, vid Boulogne. He will be absent during the summer vacation. SIG. CAMILLO SIVORI, who has been for some time in Paris doing nothing but play at a matinée given by Mad. Farrenc, the composer, has gone to Baden Baden, doubtless with the intention of doing something there a little more remunerative. M. JULLIEN started, on Wednesday morning, on a tour to the provinces, with the soloists and chief performers from the military band which was so greatly admired at the Surrey Gardens. CERITO left London for Paris on Wednesday morning, the day after her last performance. The celebrated danseuse-who is engaged to perform before the Queen of England in the Duke of Saxe-Gotha's opera of Santa Chiara-will shortly make her rentrée at the Academie Impériale de Musique et de Danse in one of her most popular ballets. MADAME STOCKL-HEINEFETTER. The report that this lady died lately, in a lunatic asylum at Vienna, is incorrect. She is not only alive, but bids fair to recover from the attack under which she has been labouring. when she discovers her son in the impostor and, to save his life denies him. This is certainly her most consummate effort, and hardly, indeed, to be surpassed in many respects. A unanimous recall at the end of the scene compelled Madame Viardot to appear, led on by Signor Tamberlik, who added greatly, by his impressive singing and acting, to the general effect. We can hardly praise Mdlle. Marai too highly for her singing the very difficult music of Berta, which was in every respect admirable. Sig. Tagliafico is the best possible Oberthal. The three Anabaptists were impersonated by Signors Mei and Polononi, and M. Zelger. Signor Mei, however, being indisposed, the trio with Oberthal in the tent scene-one of the finest pieces in the opera-was omitted. The ballet divertissement in the skating scene was rendered doubly attractive by Mdlle. Cerito, who made her last appearance for the season, and by her admirable and exquisitely natural dancing in the grand pas de deux with M. Desplaces (the mazurka-for which Meyerbeer has composed such delicious music) gave an entirely new character and imparted an unaccustomed interest to the whole. It was not alone the perfect danseuse that was manifested in Cerito's performance, but the charming and elegant mime, to whom the feet were as the voice to the singer. The costume of the Westphalian peasant was |