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CATHEDRAL MUSIC.

FIFTEEN ANTHEMS, composed by GEORGE B. ALLEN,
Mus. Bac. Oxon.

do not insert Mr. Lake's letter, for two reasons;-firstly, because all its descriptive portion has long since appeared in the pages of the Musical World, and secondly, because we do not admit anything in the shape of professional criticism on subjects which we personally undertake to discuss. The propriety of this arrangement, for many reasons, Mr. Lake will, we think, at once It is impossible to examine these compositions without perunderstand.. Mr. Best's letter on the same subject was perceiving that Mr. Allen has been in a difficulty, partly of talent, mitted to appear simply as a concession to his position as the partly of opinion, while at work on them. He has certainly appointed organist of St. George's-hall,-we thought he might been aware that the traditional cathedral music had faults, and wish to declare his own impressions of his own instrument, and has probably done as scores of people of the same way of thinkso accorded him the opportunity. As both Mr. Best and Mr. ing do-namely, spared himself the trouble of any special Lake seem to have addressed us under the impression analysis for the purpose of discovering what these faults were, that we have done the Liverpool organ wrong by "adverse by compendiously charging the present music with being oldcriticism," we must remind our correspondents, and organists fashioned. It is this old-fashioned character that he evidently and organ-builders in general, that, at present, we have depurposes to correct in the compositions under notice, but, on livered no detailed criticism on the finished instrument at all. account of the double difficulty aforesaid-on one side, the whole Our first papers, it most be remembered, were confined solely circumstances of his cathedral education were against him, and, to a review of the description of the organ which was published, on the other, timidity, probably, often prevailed against his by authority, in the Liverpool Guide. Our strictures were wishes he has only half succeeded. To be a successful artdirected entirely upon the design of the instrument, and the reformer demands a rare association of rare qualities. Talent spirit of puffery and impertinent assumption of superiority over of an uncommonly high order must be there; courage, also, that all contemporary works and makers that characterized the respects no mere prejudices, no matter how time-honoured or description of its details. The solitary opinion we then gave was multitudinously supported; and lastly, a vigorous discretion, that the organ constructed on such a scheme, was capable of the both to rescue the beauties of the past from choking amidst the prodigious novelty and grandeur of effect claimed for it; and to mass of rubbish falling around them, and to curb somewhat the this opinion-provided the scheme remains unaltered-we have hot-blooded steed, progress, so that its rider be not carried into not the slightest hesitation in declaring our adherance. When, a wilderness of error and extravagance, far out of sight of all subsequently, we noticed the first performance on the organ by his contemplated purposes. Now, that Mr. Allen intended to Dr. Wesley, we expressly stated that the circumstances of the go considerably out of the beaten track, to advance on the path occasion did not afford us the desired opportunities for thoroughly of progress, to become, in some sort, a reformer, in short, is very testing the qualities of the instrument; so that, properly speak-evident, on the face of his book; but it is by no means so ing, our criticism" on the subject is yet unpronounced. evident that he has a due mixture of the qualities we have indicated above as necessary to success. He is a clever man, and has learned a good deal of music, beyond doubt. We have seen a considerable number of songs by him which testify so much, at least. He has a graceful and tolerably fluent knack in the manufacture of melody, and he accompanies it in a manner that generally displays a good feeling for harmony, and experience as well as taste in its distribution. But these songs are necessarily short and fragmentary compositions; and precisely across the gulf that separates things of this kind from the various descriptions of long and important works is thrown that pons asinorum over which every aspirant to great music must pass, and immediately after which he shows, in his first evolutions, whether he is a rightful occupant of the new soil, or merely an unlicensed "squatter." Precisely in the difference between short and long music stands one of the great points on which the cathedral musicians of this country are so much behind their secular brethren.* Form is one of the most absolute essentials to the composer for the theatre and concert-room. Without it -no matter what the value of the materials employed-his and even ludicrous. But this form-in other words, clearness of operas and symphonies become weak, insufferably tiresome, shape in a whole movement, and symmetrical adjustment of its parts, of its modulations, and of the recurrences of its salient ideas-is essential to all music; and yet, to the musician of purely cathedral education, the term itself has absolutely no signification. Developed into its present tangible condition by the church-composers, indeed, could have had no suspicion of its great German masters of a comparatively late period, the old existence or necessity. They wrote partly by instinct, and partly in obedience to the contrapuntal dogmas of the knowledge-and especially of the larger kind to which we now specially refer they had, could have had, none. Hence, we of fugal and other artificial dexterity, and not unfrequently find in their works, frequent bright flashes of genius, abundance fragments of grand, broad, and solemn, even sublime, effect. But we also find all these qualities scarcely ever occurring otherwise than in patches. Their movements scarcely ever display sustaining power. For the most part they are not only framentary in the extreme, but in the arrangement of their materials, and the juxtaposition of their keys, they exhibit effects We shall, by and bye, see some exceptions, in which both kinds of music have been cultivated.

We have not the slightest wish to check controversy about this or any other matter. When we have had the necessary opportunity of thoroughly examining, trying, and hearing the Liverpool organ in all its varieties-and which we shall do in the most impartial spirit and with the sincerest desire to find the instrument in every way worthy of the magnificent hall in which it stands, and when we have written the result of our examinanation, we shall be happy to insert anything Mr. Best, Mr. Lake, or anyone else may have to say, should they think we have done injustice either to Mr. Willis or his instrument. Meanwhile, they may rest satisfied that the conduct of this department of the Musical World has no other object than the furtherance of all that is best in organ-building; and that so little "favour or affection" have we about these matters, that if the unknown firm of Brown, Jones, and Robinson could shew us, by the simple evidence of our eyes and ears, that they had built the finest organ in the world, they would instantly have our suffrages and best recommendation, in preference to Cavaillée, or Hill, or Gray and Davison.

LEEDS. PEOPLE'S CONCERT.-(From our own Correspondent). The Leeds musical season has now fairly set in-concerts are being given to suit all classes. The Leeds Recreation Society, for the last four winters, has laboured to bring within the means of the humblest musical entertainment in nearly every variety of form, from the oratorio to the ballad. The first concert of the fifth season was given in the Music Hall, on Saturday evening. The executants were Mrs. Sunderland, Mrs. Paget, Mr. Perring, and Mr. Delavanti. Three of these names were familiar to a Leeds audience. Mrs. Paget was a stranger. This concert, in a pecuniary sense, was one of the most successful given by the Society, the room being crowded in every part. Mr. Spark accompanied the whole of the music on the piano. It was no easy task for one conductor, considering the number of pieces given. The annual services at the parish church, instituted to commemorate the opening of that sacred and beautiful edifice, were celebrated on Thursday the 10th instant. The choir was considerably augmented for the occasion, and amounted to nearly 60 voices-30 men and 30 boys. The musical attractions, however, not being so great as formerly, the congregations were much smaller, and the collections (for the benefit of the choir) meagre. Mr. Burton, the organist, played the accompaniments to the various services and anthems very carefully.

age.

Other

constantly unsatisfactory, and often offensive in the highest degree. Brought up, then, to the performance and contemplation of this kind of music, taught to believe it the source of models for all emulation, and not unfrequently to sneer at every thing extra-cloistral as an insane departure from the pure faith in art, it is no wonder that the cathedrally-educated musician should have a difficulty in perceiving the defect of his churchmusic, or, if his suspicions be awakened on this point, a still greater difficulty in determining where, and to what extent, the reform should be applied. Mr. Allen, as we before said, is evidently in this latter case. He is too modernized in his ideas of music generally not to perceive that, in a new issue of cathedral music, some forward movement was necessary, and yet he appears either irresolute or unconscious in what direction the required improvement should proceed. He is, so to speak, in a transition state; and the complete mistake of his book is that it has been published before his opinions have been finally settled to allegiance with the sixteenth or the nineteenth century. The mixture of both which we find here is certainly little else than useless in an artistic point of view. In some of these Anthems we find little else than a reproduction of the manner, phraseology, and technical faults of his models; in others, solos in which the silly prettiness of Kent seems most carefully emulated; and, again, there are many instances in which modern ideas, and modern feeling seem continually struggling to make themselves heard amidst all the vices of a now fortunately obsolete construction.

(To be continued in our next.)

OPERA AND DRAMA.

BY RICHARD WAGNER.

(Continued from page 578.)

PART IL

CHAPTER V.

FOR art, our sole object in the present investigation, the following consequences of incalculable importance result from the destruction of the State.

in contact with the individuality, they could be strikingly
and truly represented by the most simple traits; for it was
only by the representation of individuality that they them-
selves had to attain characteristic peculiarity.
The State,
however, is not of this elastic and pliant nature, but a dog-
matically stiff, fettering, peremptory power, saying to the
individual beforehand:-So shalt thou think and act! The
State has set up as the educator of individuality, of which
it obtains possession in the womb by apportioning it before-
hand an unequal share of the means for social independence;
by forcing its own morality upon it, the State deprives indi-
viduality of the involuntariness of its views, and assigns it, as
though it were its own property, the place it shall assume with
regard to what surrounds it. It is to the State that the citizen
is indebted for his individuality, which, however, is nothing but
his predetermined relative position to the State, a position in
which his purely human individuality is utterly destroyed as far
as action is concerned, and is limited at most to what he thinks
in silence.

The dangerous corner of the human brain, in which all man's individuality had sought refuge, the State, with the assistance of the dogmas of religion, also endeavoured to sweep out; in this, however, it necessarily proved powerless, since it could only bring up hypocrites, that is to say: citizens, who act differently to what they think. From the habit of thinking, however, the power of resisting the State was, also, first produced. The first purely human movement of freedom was displayed in warding off the dogmas of religion, and the State was ultimately compelled to allow freedom of opinion. But how is this merely thinking individuality displayed in action? It can only act, as long as the State exists, as a citizen, that is to say, as an individuality whose mode of action does not correspond with its mode of thinking. The citizen is incapable of taking a single step not previously laid down for him either as a duty or a crime: the character of his duty and of his crime is not that peculiar to his own individuality; whatever he may do, in order to act according to his manner of thinking, which may be as free as possible, he cannot step beyond the State, to which even his crime belongs. He can only cease to be a citizen by means of death, that is to say, at the point when he also ceases to be a man.

The poet who had now to represent the struggle of individuality against the State, could, therefore, only represent the State, and merely suggest to the mind free individuality. The State was something existing, firm and coloured, while individuality, on the other hand, was something non-existent a something merely thought, and devoid both of form and colour. All the traits, outlines, and colours, which give individuality its decided, firm, recognizable artistic shape, the poet had to borrow from Society, politically separated and diplomatically compressed, and not from individuality, which designs and colours itself in its contact with other individualities. The individuality merely thus thought and not represented could, therefore, only be offered to the mind, and not be immediately grasped by the feelings. Our drama was, consequently, an appeal to the understanding and not to the feelings. It thus assumed the position of the didatic poem, which represents a subject taken from life, only so far as to satisfy the purpose of communicating a thought to the understanding. But in the communication of a thought to the understanding, the poet has to proceed just as circumstantially, as he must be simple and plain when he turns to the immediate grasp of the feelings. The feelings grasp only what is real, materially confirmed, and perceptible; only what is perfect and complete, that which is merely what it now can be, is susceptible of being communicated to them. Only that which agrees with itself is intelligible to them; that which does not agree with itself, that which is not yet actually and decidedly manifested, confuses them, compelling them to think, and thus driving them to a combining act which abrogates feeling.

The representation of the struggle, by which the individual sought to free himself from the political State, or the dogmas of religion, became the task of the poet, the more necessarily as political life, far from which he could, after all, lead only a dream-like existence, was more and more consciously filled with the dilemmas of the struggle, as well as its actual purport. Let us set on one side the religious State-poet, who, even as an artist, sacrificed men, with horrible satisfaction, to his idol, and we have before us only the poet, who, full of real melancholy compassion for the sufferings of the individual, turned, as such himself, and by the representation of his struggle, against the State and against politics. Individuality, which led the poet into a combat with the State, was, however, from the nature of the case, not a purely human feeling, but one pre-supposed by the State itself. It was of the same kind as the State, and merely the opposite, lying within the State, of the latter's extreme point. Conscious individuality, that is to say, an individuality which causes us under particular circumstances to act as we do and not otherwise, is to be gained only in society, which first brings about the circumstances, under which we have to determine what course we will take. The individual without Society is as an individuality perfectly incomprehensible to us, for it is only in our intercourse with others, that the qualities in which we differ from him and which peculiarize ourselves, are evident. When Society became the political State, the latter also presupposed the peculiarity of individuality from its own essential attributes, and as the State, in opposition to free society, it did so, naturally more strictly and categorically than Society. No one can The poet who addresses himself to the feelings must, in order pourtray an individuality without the persons and things around to appeal convincingly to them, previously agree so well in it, and which presuppose it as such; if these surrounding con- thought with himself, as to be able to renounce all the help of the ditions were natural, affording breathing room for the develop-mechanism of logic, and with full consciousness, communicate ment of individuality, and freely and elastically fashioning themselves afresh in obedience to inward involuntariness, when coming

with the unerring conception of unconscious, purely human feeling. He has, therefore, to proceed as simply and (for the

material perception) as unconditionally, as the real fact-such as air, warmth, flowers, animals, men-manifests itself to the feelings. But the modern dramatic poet has, I have shown, to adopt a diametrically opposite course, in order, by his representation to communicate the most communicable, and, at the same time, most convincingly intelligible element-purely human individuality. Out of the immense mass of its actual accessaries, in the State, which evidently lends them proportion, form, and colour, and from history numbed into the State, he has first, with endless labour, to construct individuality, in order, as we have seen, to present it only to the mind after all.* That which our feelings at once involuntarily grasp is simply the form and colour of the State. With the very first impressions of our youth, we behold man only in the form and character given him by the State; the individuality bestowed on him by it, is accepted by our involuntary feeling as his really essential attributes; we cannot conceive him otherwise than according to the distinguishing qualities which are, in truth, not his own, but conferred upon him by it. The people can, now a-days, not comprehend man otherwise than in the uniform of the rank in which from their youth they perceive him materially and corporeally, and the "people's play wright"+ can only express himself intelligibly to them, by not disturbing them for a single moment in this civil illusion, which so fetters their unconscious feeling, that they would be plunged into the greatest possible confusion, were an attempt made to construct the actual man out of this material being. In order, therefore, to represent purely human individuality, the modern poet has to appeal not to the feelings but to the understanding, since the individuality in question is even for him merely something thought. For this, the course adopted by him must be extraordinarily circumstantial; all that modern feeling grasps as most intelligible, he must slowly and with the greatest care, divest of its outward covering, form, and colour, before, so to speak, the eyes of this feeling, in order, during the operation, to lead, with systematic calculation, the feelings to think, since the individuality he has in view, can, after all, only be something thought. Thus must the poet appeal, from the feelings to the understanding; it is not until he has, with the utmost prudence, overcome them, that he arrives at his real object: the representation of a thought to the understanding. Thus the understanding is fundamentally the human power to which the modern poet endeavours to address himself, and he can talk to it only by means of the organ of the combining, analysing, dividing, and separating understanding, the mediatory and presupposed language of words, abstracted from the feelings, and merely pourtraying their impressions and conceptions. Were our State itself a worthy subject for the feelings, the poet would, in order to attain his purpose, have, in a certain degree, to pass, in the drama, from music to the language of words; the case of the Greek drama was almost exactly similar, but the

reason of this was reversed. The foundation of the Greek drama was lyrics, from which the drama advanced to the language of words, just as Society advanced from the morally

Göthe attempted, in Egmont, to represent to the feelings this purely human individuality, detached during the whole course of the piece, with laborious circumstantiality, from the historico-political conditional accessaries, and, in the solitude of the dungeon, immediately before death, agreeing with itself; for this purpose, he was obliged to have recourse to music and a miracle. How characteristic is it that the idealising Schiller could not understand this uncommonly significative trait of Göthe's highest artistic truthfulness! How erroneous was it, also, on the part of Beethoven, not to begin his music with the miracu lous apparition, instead of-inopportunely-in the middle of the politico-prosaic exposition of the piece!

+ Volkschauspieldichter.

The people would be placed in the same position as the two children, who, on seeing a picture which represented Adam and Eve, could not tell which was the man and which the woman, because the figures were naked. How, again, are all our views of things modified by the fact that we are generally placed in a state of the most painful embarrassment at the sight of a naked human form, which is usually pronounced to be improper; even our own body is only intelligible to us by reflection.

religious bond of feeling to the political State. The return from the understanding to the feelings will be the course pursued by the Drama of the Future in proportion as we progress from individuality which is merely something thought, to individuality, which is real. The modern poet has, however, to represent, from the very commencement of his task, an accessary, namely, the State, devoid of every purely human moment of feeling, and not to be communicated in the highest expression of it. He can, consequently, only completely carry out his purpose by means of the organ of communication of the combining understanding, feelingless modern language; and it justly strikes the modern dramatist that it would be inappropriate, confusing, and disturbing, were he, among other things, to employ music for an end which is only to be expressed, at all intelligibly, as a thought for the understanding, and not as an emotion for the feelings.

HUMMEL AND FIELD.

In the year 1823, Hummel visited St. Petersburg, whither his reputation had already preceded him, and gave several concerts there, which were very numerously attended. In the course of these entertainments, he composed extemporary variations upon themes suggested to him by his audience, in which he displayed such talent and readiness of invention, as to waken up a perfect enthusiasm among his hearers. From St. Petersburg he proceded to Moscow, where Field was at that time residing. These two artists had never seen each other, and were only known to one another by their works and reputation. On the morning after his arrival, Hummel, whose appearance was somewhat heavy and slovenly, paid Field a visit. He found him in his dressing-gown, smoking and giving instruction to a pupil. "I wish to speak with Mr. Field," said Hummel. "I am he," said Field. "What is your pleasure ?" "I was anxious to make your acquaintance; I am a great lover of music; but I see you are engaged, so don't let me disturb you. I can wait." of tobacco was offensive. "Not at all," said Hummel, “I smoke, Field begged him to sit down, asking him whether the smell that he very speedily took his departure. During this time too!" The presence of a stranger so disconcerted Field's pupil, Field had been scrutinizing his visitor, whose general bearing him, "What is your business in Moscow ?" Hummel said he had struck him as being something remarkable; at length he asked visited Moscow in a mercantile capacity, and that being a devoted lover of music, and having long heard of Field, he could not think of leaving without hearing him.

although he perhaps considered him as little better than a Midas, Field was civil enough to gratify the wish of his visitor. And he sat down to the piano, and played one of his Capricci in his his kindness, and assured him that he had never heard the piano own surprising manner. Hummel thanked him repeatedly for played with so much lightness and precision.

Field answered in a sportive tone, "Since you are so very fond of music, you certainly must play something yourself?" true he played the organ occasionally, but that it was impossible Hummel made some excuses, saying that when at home it was to touch the piano after Field.

"That is all very well," said Field, "but such an amateur as you are, always knows something to play," and he smiled in anticipation of the performance he was doomed to listen to. Without farther parley, Hummel now sat down to the piano, and, taking the very theme which Field had just played, began to vary it extemporaneously, in a manner so powerful, that Field stood transfixed. Dropping his pipe from his mouth, he seized Hummel, exclaiming, "You are Hummel-you are Hummel! There is nobody but Hummel in the world capable of such inspiration!" It was with no little difficulty that Hummel released himself from the grasp of his admirer.— Gallery of Living Composers.

STAMFORD. Mr. Thacker, organist of Thorny Abbey, has been elected conductor of the Stamford Musical Union. The first concert of the season will take place in October, and will commence with Romberg's Harmony of the Spheres.

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

MUSICAL DEGREES.

To the Editor of the Musical World.

SIR-Although from the copy of Professor Walmisley's letter, furnished by your correspondent "Justitia," an inference may fairly be drawn that an exercise, containing only one movement in five parts, might meet the requirements of the university statutes for the degree of Mus. Bac., I beg to assure you that my own personal experience inclines me to believe that, since the above letter was written, the Cambridge Professor has deemed it expedient to render the degrees in his university somewhat more difficult of attainment than formerly. In my first interview with him on the subject of the degree with which I was subsequently honoured, I informed him that I had prepared a work according to the description I had understood would be required, viz.: a sacred composition in the form of an oratorio, consisting of five or six choruses (two of them fugues), airs, duets, &c., scored for a full orchestra, and occupying nearly an hour in performance. I further informed him that one of the choruses was written in eight obbligato parts throughout, and that it occupied above twenty pages, closely written. Upon this I was told that it would be useless to send the work for examination, that, in order to the attainment of my wishes, I must write another, with all the chorus in eight obbligato parts, i. e., forming points of imitation, etc., not merely serving to fill up the harmony, and at least one fugue. This second work was written and approved, and I may now subscribe myself, sir, your very obedient Mus. Doc. CANTAB.

servant,

["Mus. Doc. Cantab." has our felicitations, which we beg him to accept, together with a notice, addressed to himself and all whom it may concern, that any future communications apropos of "musical degrees,” must—until some new circumstance of general interest turns up-be paid for as advertisements.-ED. M. W.

CRUSH

GREGORIANIZERS.

To the Editor of the Musical World.

SIE,-Your clever correspondent, “ Chorale,” headed his last week's communication with this sentence, ascribing it to me-Crush the Gregorians.*

Now, I wrote not Gregorians (as I am ready to acknowledge that there are some fine specimeus of ancient church music, few and far between though they be), but Gregorianizers.

I include in this denomination all those enlightened parties, who, at the present day, are labouring to convince the world that none other music, save that written on four-lined staves, in notes of portentous shape and indefinite value, and with signatures of mystic import, is admissible into the musical service of the Anglican Church Catholic. These men deserve to be "crushed," in that word's most literal signification.

For my own part, I never will believe that these "Men of the East" are sincere; or, in other words, that they really are such worshippers of Pope Gregory and his supposed school of music.

I fancy I see a number of them sitting in council, revising the proof sheets of some new work in the ancient style, conscience stricken at the sight and hearing of their own crudities, whispering one to another (alas! how truly), "What a set of humbugs we are!!" Believe me, very faithfully yours,

12th September, 1855.

A YOUNG ORGANIST.

* A misprint for "Gregorianizers.”—ED. M. W.

MUNICH.-Herr Richard Wagner's Tannhäuser was produced, on the 12th ult., for the first time in this city. The house was crowded to suffocation. There was not a single vacant place, with the exception of the Royal box, which was empty, as the Royal Family are at present absent from the capital. The management had done all in its power, in the way of dresses, scenery, and decorations, and the singers exerted themselves to the utmost. The opera was, of course, a "great hit," but, like many other "great hits," will, I strongly opine, soon be consigned to oblivion.-A grand musical festival is to take place in the Crystal Palace, Glas-Palast, in October. The necessary funds have already been voted by the board of magistrates, and the direction of the whole confided to a committee of members of the Hofcapelle.

BRUSSELS.-The opening of the new theatre, which was fixed for the 1st inst., is postponed for another season.

WEBER'S EURYANTHE.

ACCORDING to the Leipsic Telegraph, Weber's Euryanthe was first produced in that city on the 20th May, 1825. Henrietta Sontag appeared in it as a "star." A short time previously, Weber himself had arrived from Dresden, and with heavy heart, told his friend Weinlig, Cantor, or chanter, at the Thomasschule, that he was very much frightened about the fate of his opera, and placed all his hopes in "fettel," as he called Sontag. Weinlig was greatly surprised, when the composer of Der Freischütz told him the following story:

"When my Euryanthe was brought out two years since at Vienna, it did not please the public at all. The Viennese said: 'Euryanthe was Ennuyanthe,' in a word, the opera was very unfortunate and caused me many an anxious hour. In my consternation, I went to Beethoven, and begged him to touch up the work a little. But Beethoven said: "The thing is goodleave it alone.' To my great consolation, he took from his desk some reviews of his own composition and said to me: 'There; read that.' I looked at the papers, among which I found a number of the Didaskalien, in which Beethoven was called an old brandy cask, and one of his masterly symphonies, with a magnianother paper, he was advised to be more diligent, and endeavour ficent bass fugue, cried down as the greatest nonsense. to improve his taste, to which end he was recommended to study the artistically correct symphonies of Herr Abell." Weinlig could not for the life of him recollect ever having heard of Herr Abell. Who knows him now?

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WEBER'S "DERNIERE PENSEE." "The waltz known under the title of Dernière Pensée de C. M. Weber,' was composed by me at Vienna in 1822 (it may have been as early as 1821), and, having come into the possession, in the same year, of the firm of C. F. Peters, musicpublishers at Leipsic, was, with my first trio (Op. 25) in 1824, (or at the end of 1823), printed in the collection Valses brillantes en As,' Op. 26. It is to be found in this collection of twelve waltzes in A flat. Some of these 'Valses brillantes' created a sensation at the time, and I often played them at Leipsic in 1823. When Weber produced my Italian opera, Dido, in 1824, I was most hospitably received by him at his residence in Dresden, and I remember with pleasure that the great master sang me some very comic songs, and that I was called upon in the small family circle (composed only of his dear wife, Madame Caroline), to give some trifles, and among others, the waltz in question, in my turn. The waltz pleased Weber so much that I was obliged to repeat it several times. He even observed to his wife that words might be adapted to it, and sung himself the commencement thus:

"Net wahr? Du bist mein Schatzerl ?" "Subsequently to this, Weber, as I afterwards heard from his It is possible that he performed it also in Paris, during his stay wife, frequently played the waltz, to which he was very partial. there in 1826, on his road to London. The rest is an affair of the music-publishers. To sum up the matter in a few words, there was in Paris a musician who wrote down the waltz, after having heard it played by Weber, and thus it appeared after his unfortunate death in London as his 'Derniere Pensée. There is one point which is unintelligible to me, and that is how my old friend Pixis, who often heard the waltz played by me in Paris in 1824, could publish variations on it, and thus confirm the erroneous notion prevalent in France. I never attached any value to the trifle, and believe that, but for Weber's authority, it would never have created any sensation.

"You have now a circumstantial statement of the whole matter. It was not until 1830, or later, that the firm of C. F. Peters in Leipsic gave a very short explanation, indeed, of it. Hereupon, a young musical dilettante, M. Parmentier (the same who afterwards translated into French and brought into notice several of my songs), wrote to me from Paris, and begged for a confirmation of the reports connected with the waltz. It was thus the details of the whole affair and my letter were published in the French papers. "C. G. REISSIGER."

* From the Mederrhunische Musik-Zeitung.

OPERA AND DRAMA IN GERMANY. THERE are in Germany, at the present moment, 165 theatres, of which 19 are Hoftheater (court theatres with subventions from the various sovereigns), 12 Stadttheater (or theatres with subventions from the municipal authorities) of the first rank, 28 Stadttheater of the second rank, 39 Stadttheater of the third rank, and 67 travelling companies, of which 20 enjoy a very good reputation, and are in satisfactory pecuniary circumstances. The capital put into circulation annually by the theatres of the first rank is reckoned at something between 100 and 400,000 thalers; by the larger Stadttheater and smaller Hoftheater, at from 80 to 100,000 thalers; by the smaller Stadttheater, at from 36 to 50,000 thalers; and by the smaller theatres, open only during the winter season, at from 6 to 20,000 thalers. The number of actors, singers, and dancers living in Germany, amounts to about 6,000, and that of the choristers, members of the orchestra, officials, tailors, etc., to about 8000. With regard to the salaries, it is reckoned, approximately, that the number of principals in all departments of art, who receive from 2,500 to 6,000, or from 4,000 to 12,000 thalers, is about 50.

DEATH OF MR. ROBERT MULLER.-In our obituary of the 8th inst., we intimated the decease of our late musical citizen and fellow-countryman, Robert Müller, whose reputation as a pianist and composer obtained for him, in 1844, diplomas and testimonials from the most celebrated colleges and musical professors in Europe. Robert Müller, at a very early age, evinced a taste for music, and came to Edinburgh, where he commenced his career under the veteran Dewar in the theatrical orchestra. He quickly rose to the top of his profession as a teacher, every hour being more than engaged, and his fame as a practitioner was fully appreciated. During those laborious years of his life his income was very considerable, and ere he attained thirty years of age he had realised such a sum as he thought necessary to enable him to proceed to Germany and Italy to prosecute his study of music in the most celebrated schools, relinquishing his position and home. He alternately placed himself under Hummel, Kalkbrenner, and Hertz, devoting himself to study and improvement. In 1830 he perfected his studies in counterpoint under Professors Zelter and Klein of Berlin. In Stockholm, Copenhagen, Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Milan, Naples, Venice, and Bologna, he became a great favourite, and was presented by many of the reigning sovereigns with valuable presents in testimony of their appreciation of him professionally and personally. He was also a friend of Göthe. He was appointed pianist to the late king of Saxony, and, on his return to his native country, pianist to their Royal Highnesses the Princess Mary, and the Duchess of Cambridge.-Edinburgh Scotsman. "WRITE ME DOWN" A "RECORD.-The Record lately quoted from our last number some lines relative to the Promenade Concert given in Kensington Gardens on Sunday to the Public, by the Queen. To this quotation were annexed certain comments, reviling us, of course, for ribaldry and profaneness. Our sanctimonious contemporary accused us, moreover, of advocating, in those verses, the institution of Jullien's concerts upon Sundays. If the Record writer has ever been present at the concerts of M. Jullien, he must know that they usually include quadrilles, polkas, and other popular pieces of music, whereas the music which we represented as proper for Sunday, was distinctly described by us as having, on the mind of the hearer, an effect essentially and beneficially spiritual. Veracity is not the forte of any of the fanatical journals, Popish or Protestant: but we do not accuse the Record man of having uttered, to the prejudice of Mr. Punch, the thing that is not, knowing it not to be. We dare say that he has not the most remote idea of what we mean by good music. To him, probably, sacred music is parish psalmody; nothing else, and nothing more; miserable and vulgar tunes married to equally miserable and vulgar verses; such as the doggerel into which Nicholas Brady and Nahum Tate have presumed to turn the Scriptures, in diluting, corrupting, and rhyming, the songs of David. Sacredness in music, as apprehended by him, is probably what, to any person with an average ear, and ordinary sensibilities, is maudlin dreariness; æsthetically

the same thing as the groaning, and moaning, and whining in the pulpit, accepted by the sect which he represents for devotional expression. His allowance of ear, however, may be said to be considerably above the average, and in respect of both ears we should say that he ought to have, by some inches, the advantage of the "tremendous justice Midas," or the "translated" Bottom.-Punch.

SADLER'S WELLS.-On Saturday last this theatre opened for the winter season, with the play of the Hunchback. The house was, as usual, crowded, and Mr. Phelps, who took the part of Master Walter, was greeted with his accustomed welcome. The chief novelty of the evening was the appearance of Miss Margaret Eburne (a provincial popularity), in the character of Julia. The many excellent artists whom Mr.Phelps has introduced to the metropolis, makes a début at Sadler's Wells a matter of more than ordinary interest. The present aspirant is very young, with an intelligent countenance, and a small but graceful figure. The name of the débutantes and performers in this part has long become legion. Miss Eburne has taken her conception from the most approved models, and embodied it with a young and impassioned earnestness which, considering her extreme youth, gives hopeful augury for the future. Her exertions rose with the exigencies of the situation; her last scene was decidedly her best, and merited the loud and prolonged plaudits it merited. She has studied with judgment as well as feeling, and is singularly free from the exaggeration and false energy which have been the bane of so many fair aspirants. The early scenes were given with easy and naïve vivacity, nor throughout, was there any attempt to overact the impassioned passages, nor give an undue prominence to the colloquial ones. If Miss Eburne has been engaged to fill the highest parts in tragedy, at this theatre, judgment must, as yet, remain undecided as to her fitness for such a career; but she has, at least, succeeded in exciting a strong wish to see more of her.

ACTRESSES AND SINGERS RAISED BY MARRIAGE.-The first person among "the gentry" who chose a wife from the stage was Martin Folkes, the antiquary, a man of fortune, who about the year 1683 married Lucretia Bradshaw, the representative of Farquhar's heroines. A contemporary writer styles her "one of the greatest and most promising genii of her time," and assigns her "prudent and exemplary conduct," as the attraction which won the learned antiquary. The next actress whose husband moved in an elevated rank was Anastasia Robin. son, the singer. The great Lord Peterborough, the hero of the Spanish war-the friend of Pope and Swift, publicly acknowledged. Anastasia as his countess in 1735. In four years after the Lady Henrietta Herbert, daughter of James, first Earl of Waldegrave, and widow of Lord Edward Herbert, bestowed her hand on James Beard, the performer. Subsequently, about the middle of the eighteenth century, Lavinia Bestwick, the original "Polly Peachum," became Duchess of Bolton. The next on record was Miss Linley's marriage to Sheridan, one of the most romantic episodes in theatrical unions; and before the eighteenth century closed, Elizabeth Farren, a perfect gentlewoman, became countess of the proudest earl in England, the representative of the illustrious Stanleys. She was Lord Derby'a second wife, and mother of the present Countess of Wilton. In 1807 the beautiful Miss Searle was mar ried to Robert Heathcote, Esq., brother of Sir Gilbert Heathcote, Bart.; and, in the same year, Louisa Brunton to the late Earl of Craven. Her son is now Earl Craven, and her niece, Mrs. Yates, still exhibits the dramatic genius of the Brunton family. The Beggar's Opera again conferred a coronet. Mary Catherine Bolton's "Polly Peachum" captivated Lord Thurlow. She was married to his lordship in 1813. În more recent times, the most fascinating of our actresses, Miss O'Neill, wedded Sir William Wrexham Beecher, Bart.; Miss Foote, the Earl of Harrington; Miss Stephens, the Earl of Essex; and Miss Mellon, then Aristocracy. Mrs. Coutts, the Duke of St. Alban's.- Burke's Romance of the

cation of singing during the past season at the Italian Opera, because THE FIRST SINGER GOING-NOT GONE.-Grisi gave us the gratifihappily her villa at Florence was not completely ready for her-the glazier having omitted to glaze the windows, or the painter having forgotten to paint the doors. Happily for the Parisians the same neglect still prevails among the tradesmen of the Prima donna, for she is announced to sing in Paris during the ensuing winter, in consequence, no doubt, of the upholsterer having failed to put up the curtains according to contract, and having thus left her free to appear before the curtain again. We dare say the tradesmen of Grisi will know how

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