propriety, and I feel much pleasure in telling you, that he partakes more of my style than any scholar I ever had; and I predict that he will prove a sound musician." Mozart was very liberal in giving praise to those who deserved it; but felt a thorough contempt for insolent mediocrity.

THE MUSICAL WORLD.

LONDON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29TH, 1855.

NEVER was there a greater dearth of musical news than at the present moment. We in vain look through the papers to obtain some information, whereby our readers might be enlightened or amused. The provinces, musically speaking, are dumb this week. Even our own Correspondents-not excluding the most fluent and untiring of our ex-metropolitan contributors, Messrs. Manchester and Leeds-have no voice, and cannot draw upon their imagination for want of a spark. Our foreign correspondents, too, as if leagued with those at home, have locked up their pens and sent us nothing. Above all, our Paris Correspondent-"Our Own"-so regular in transmission, so plethoric in his information, so comprehensive a newsmonger, and so indefatigable a seeker after materials, has cut us altogether for two weeks, doubtless having nothing to write about. Is this the pause in the musical atmosphere that foreruns the tempest; or has the war absorbed all thought, all consideration, all news? Have the roar of the cannons at Sebastopol, the rattling thunder of the musketry, the shrieks of the wounded, annihilated all softer sounds, music among the rest?

If we look round us to see what is going forward in the musical world of London, we find nothing-literally nothing. To be sure Drury Lane is opened as an operatic establishment, and nightly doles out, what it calls, musical entertainment at the lowest possible price per head. But the "lyric" doings at Old Drury come as little under the category of "Musical Performances" as the primitive essays of the militia recruits under the title of "Military Evolutions." We would except individual artists who appertain to the establishment from this censure; it is the sum total that is open to

criticism.

We

But, as there is little or nothing doing, there is little or nothing forthcoming. The Future is as barren as the Present. Those immediately concerned with operatic affairs, for instance, are anxious to know what are the prospects for the opening of Her Majesty's Theatre next season. cannot inform them-we wish we could. From what we have heard, and continue to hear, nevertheless, we are inclined to believe that the great lyric establishment in the Haymarket will open its doors once more in the ensuing spring. Furthermore deponent sayeth not. It has been said that Competition was fatal both to Her Majesty's Theatre and to the Royal Italian Opera. We can hardly coincide with this opinion. It is certain that the rival

That

theatres both suffered severe losses in the last two seasons of the elder house; but the cause, we think, must be sought for in something entirely extraneous to Competition. there is room enough and hope enough for two Operas in London-as long as there is no English opera-is the general belief. Covent Garden is fast falling away from an Italian opera-strictly so called-and merging into the French or German-French opera. Indeed, we should not be surprised to find the Royal Italian Opera occupying, in a few years, the exact position held by the Académie Imperiale

de Musique et de Danse in Paris. If we look at the works by which the reputation of this great establishment has been upheld for the last five years, we shall find that they all belong to the French school. Les Huguenots struck the first blow against Italian opera at Covent Garden, and L'Etoile du Nord put the first nail in its coffin. In fact, so far has this change been recognised by Meyerbeer himself, that it would surprise nobody if the illustrious composer should write an opera for Covent Garden, or even bring out his long-talked-of, much-desired L'Africaine. Therefore, we say, there is room for two operas, one confining itself entirely to the Italian répertoire-like Her Majesty's Theatre of old the other relying for its chief support on French works. With respect to the difficulty of procuring singers enough for such important and exacting theatres as Her Majesty's and Covent Garden, it may be sufficient to state that two of the most renowned artists of modern times-Mdlle. Alboni and Mdlle. Sophie Cruvelli-were absent from the Royal Italian Opera in the past season. Would this have happened had both Operas been open? We think not.

What about English national Opera? Nothing. What of its prospects? Nothing. We have neither realities nor hopes presented to us. There was a rumour sometime since of an incorporated society for the establishment of a National Lyric Theatre. The prospectus was printed, we believe; but the speculation halted on the very threshold of undertaking. Whether it will step forward or backward we cannot say. We desire, as much as anybody, the establishment of a National Opera, and have no doubt that materials in abundance are in existence; but we have little faith in its foundation, as long as British musicians will refuse to co-operate and give up their cliques-the great bane to healthful speculation-and as long as London managers are allowed to desecrate the name of music with such performances as are being perpetrated at one of the leading theatres.

A crusade against managers, who are at the same time incompetent and mercenary, and against artists who lend their talents and their reputation to such keeping, would be hardly less worthy, and might prove no less beneficial in a universal point of view, than the war directed against the Autocrat of the Russias, who himself is but an ill-manager that considers art and artists as playthings of his caprice, or food for speculation, to humour his fancy, or bring him fortune. Without much stretch of the fancy may not Drury Lane be entitled the Sebastopol of Music?

M. BOSISIO, the well-known composer, and conductor at the Cremorne Gardens, has gained the prize for the dance music in the competition which took place last week at the Concorde Musicale at Paris.

SIGNOR VERDI has been created, by his Majesty the Emperor of the French, an officer of the Legion of Honour. close of his late engagement at Grenada, distributed thirty RONCONI. The celebrated barytone, Georgio Ronconi, at the thousand reals among the poor of the town. On his way to St. Petersburgh, where he is engaged for the winter, he appeared one night at Cadiz, in Maria di Rohan, and achieved an immense success.

MADAME PLEYEL has arrived in Paris, and is engaged to play this week at the Salle Herz.

RACHEL AT NEW YORK.-Mademoiselle Rachel has made her

appearance at New York in Les Horaces, and been received with enthusiasm. Some of Jonathan's criticisms upon the acting of the great French artist are curious specimens of what is generally termed "fine writing." Here is a specimen from the columns of a journal which maintains, and deservedly, an intellectual

places, where festivals had a regular occurrence, several towns of minor importance used occasionally to venture on musical performances of great magnitude, but-with the exception, perhaps of Hull-have wholly discontinued the attempt. At present, the only festivals, the occurrence of which can be at all relied on, are those of Birmingham, Norwich, and the "meeting of the three choirs" of Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester. For this extraordinary and lamentable falling-off there are two reasons, the first and most important of which is pecuniary illsuccess. In the matter of profit, Birmingham has invariably held the first rank throughout the kingdom, a result secured by the size and convenience of the Town Hall, the spirited management of the committee, and the general reputation of the performances. At Norwich, the festivals have been generally, though not extensively, remunerative; while the "meet

ings of the three choirs" have notoriously been sustained for years by the public spirit of the stewards, who, in order to preserve to the charity the advantages of the "collections," have been content to make up the heavy deficiency by which the sale of tickets falls short of the expenses. Pecuniary loss, though the general, has not been the sole agent in diminishing the number of our provincial festivals. After the last meeting at York, the dean declared that he would never again permit his cathedral to be desecrated by musical performances, to which people paid for admission; but, probably, at that time, had not discovered the superior scandal of simony. To be sure, the route taken by the proceeds made much of the difference: in the one case, the profit went to various characters, in the other, entirely into the pocket of the chapter. Doubtless, this clerical jealousy of any more powerful stimulant to almsgiving than preaching has had much influence in the suppression of many others of the extinct festivals. It is notorious that, both in Birmingham and Norwich, the festivals are invariably made objects of the fiercest invective by a certain section of the clergy. Although in neither place are the performances given in a sacred edifice, they are assailed, for weeks before they commence, with every species of priestly denunciation that is likely to deter the timid from taking part, both in the good they do and the pleasure they confer. For this most unnatural evil there is no remedy but perseverance. Sensible people will speedily discover that there is quite as little harm in good music as in bad preaching, and will exercise a very excusable preference in patronising the former; as for the rest of the world, they may be safely left to seek their own welfare, temporal and eternal, after their own fashion.

pay

The pecuniary uncertainties of these festivals, however, can be more clearly dealt with, and must be met by a more economical expenditure. This must not be done, however, in any way that will affect the large musical aim of the performances. Not a voice must be spared from the chorus, not a fiddle less must appear in the orchestra. The saving must be effected by a determined resistance to the exorbitant demands of some of the principal singers. The payment of three or four hundred pounds to any person, no matter of what name or reputation, for singing on one of these occasions is sheer folly, and, indeed, something worse. No one person can be, commercially speaking, worth such a price, and to it is merely to tempt the certainty of pecuniary loss, and, at the same time, to perpetuate the evil practice of extravagantly rewarding one species of talent to the detriment of others quite as important. The failure at Liverpool was mainly owing to this absurd prodigality; and, in most other similar cases, the relation of cause and effect is just as clearly traceable. At Hereford, Worcester, and Gloucester, as already stated, the stewards are accustomed to submit to a "call" varying from 50l. to 100%.each, because the sale of tickets never covers the expenditure, and because the capitulars of these cities permit the use of their cathedrals solely on condition that the "collections" made in the buildings are handed over intact to their charities. But an end must come to this kind of thing. Sooner or later, people will grow tired of the honour of a "stewardship," with the attached responsibility of giving large musical performances merely to fatten a class of charities which, with a proper management of church property, would be wholly unnecessary. With this invariable loss, imposed as a tax

on the liberality of the neighbouring gentry, it is by no means improbable that the "meetings of the three choirs" may speedily become among the number of the extinct festivals-thus leaving but Birmingham and Norwich in a state of regular existence. There can be no doubt that, with firm and business-like management, the music meetings now in being may be profitably sustained, and, also, that others might be resuscitated with every prospect of success. All this should be looked to in time, for it is, we are convinced, impossible to overrate the value of these provincial gatherings in a musical point of view.

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

ITINERANT MUSIC-SELLERS.
To the Editor of the Musical World.

SIR,-The "Professor" is really such a "terrible Turk" that there is no pleasing him any how. He first finds fault with his "friend" (see Mus. World No. 32) for giving his pupils the benefit of his lucubrations, and then falls foul of me because I choose to let mine remain in modest obscurity. I ought, however, to feel extremely grateful for all the rare qualifications with which he has endowed me; but there is one virtue to which I am afraid I have no sort of claim whatever, viz.: the ability to refuse a good bargain when it falls in my way. He makes me turn a deaf ear to the entreaties of the publishers to buy their wares at my own price! I can only say that when they offer such a boon, I shall not be slow to avail myself of their unprecedented liberality. exhibited a large amount of bad temper, because I ventured to point The "Professor," I am sorry to say, has lost his equanimity, and out two or three slips of the pen, which, probably, he had overlooked in the hurry of composition. Now, as I am a simple-minded indivi dual, and pretend to none of the "brilliancy" for which he gives me credit, I very naturally interpreted the passages in question in a common-sense way. I am sure I had no intention of quibbling, much less of perpetrating puns, and yet it would seem that my application of an old adage has "cut him to the quick!"

The Professor" has taken a vast deal of pains to expound the socalled quibbles. I am quite content, however, to abide by the decision of your readers as to how far I was justified in putting such a construction on the passages. My antagonist complains that I did not quote his words. I shall remedy that omission now, that your readers may have the opportunity of appreciating their "unmistakeable plain

ness.

physician who has long since ceased to be an apothecary. Since he has thrown over the trade of dealing in drugs," &c. Here, it is to be observed, is no mention of "medical practitioner," "doctor," or anything else to lead an ordinary reader to suppose the writer meant otherwise than simply physician.

Quotation No. 1: "The teacher should follow the example of the

Quotation No. 2: "Poor silversmiths." The "Professor" says he spoke of them "in a tone of commiseration." Well, I wont give your readers the trouble to examine this point, as I might have fallen into a slight error from my habit of giving things their literal meaning. I shall, therefore, proceed to

Quotation to No. 3: The "Professor" in expounding quibble the third, says: "I spoke of the music which the master sells to his pupils without intending it to be played, as 'like the razors'-the inference being that both are meant for sale not use." I shall not stop to inquire how far this agrees with his remark, that the remainder is "for practice during the holidays;" neither will I attempt to define the differthe disputed passage, which is as follows: "It is apparent to the disence between practice and playing: it will be sufficient for me to quote appointed parents that the surplus music was not intended for use (like the razors), but was only a piece of sharp practice,'" &c. Your sor's" gloss and my readings.

readers will now be able to estimate the relative value of the "Profes

So much, then, for the three "contemptible quibbles." I have only to add, that I am "tradesman" enough to understand the value of time, and I must, therefore, decline continuing the discussion on its present footing. When the "Professor" feels himself competent to answer the arguments I brought forward in my first letter, I shall be happy to go on with the correspondence, when, I have no doubt, I shall be able to furnish him with a "Rowland" for his "Oliver."

A TEACHER OF FOURTEEN YEARS STANDING. P.S.-I take this opportunity of thanking Mr. Crane for his highly interesting paper on the St. James's organ. It would be a happy day for organists were such churchwardens more numerous.

tation of the motives, which has to occupy the space of the work of art, that would be altogether thrown away, if filled with a mass of unjustifiable points of action.

In the interest of intelligibility, the poet has, therefore, so to limit the points of the action as to gain the space necessary to enable him to account fully for those retained: all the motives, contained in the points rejected, he must introduce into the motives for the principal action, in such a manner that the latter may not appear isolated, because, if isolated, it would also presuppose its especial points of action-the very ones that have been rejected; these must, on the contrary, be so contained in the principal motive as not to split it up into various parts, but to strengthen it as a whole. This strengthening of the motive, however, presupposes, further, the strengthening of the point of action, which is, of itself, only the suitable expression of the motive. A strong motive cannot be expressed in a weak point of action, for both the action and the motive would be thereby rendered unintelligible.

In order, consequently, to exhibit the principal point strengthened by the adoption of all the motives, which in ordinary life are only expressed in a great number of points of action, the action conditional upon it must, also, be strengthened, mighty, and, in its unity, more comprehensive than it would be if produced by ordinary life, in which precisely the same action occurs, only in connection with a number of secondary actions, in a wider space and more extended period of time. The poet who compresses not merely these actions, but the more extended time and space as well, for the benefit of a clearly perceptible comprehension of them, has not simply to cut down, but to condense their whole essential purport; but the condensed form of actual life is only to be understood by the latter when-placed in contrast with it it appears to it as enlarged, strengthened, and unusual. In his over-active absence of mind with regard to time and space, man is precisely unable to understand his own activity of life; the picture of this activity compressed for the understanding reaches him, however, in the shape created by the poet for contemplation, a picture in which this activity is condensed to a point of the greatest strength, which, in itself, certainly appears unusual and wonderful, but contains its unusual and wonderful character exclusively in itself, and is viewed by the spectator in no wise as a miracle, but as a most intelligible representation of the reality.

By means of this miracle, however, the poet is capable of representing the most immeasurable ranges of connected subjects in the most intelligible unity. He has only to render more strong the qualities of his figures, the greater and the more comprehensive the connection he wishes to represent; he will, also, condense, from the most comprehensive expansion, to the most wondrous proportions, space and time, in order to make them correspond to the movements of the figures-and will thus make the qualities of endlessly dispersed points of space and time the purport of an enhanced quality, just as he collects the scattered motives into the principal one, and enhance the expression of this quality, just as he strengthened the action through the motive in question. Even the most unusual shapes, which the poet has to exhibit in this course of proceeding, will in truth never be unnatural, because, in them, the essential attributes of Nature are not distorted, but the expressions of her only comprehended in a picture which is taken in at a glance, and which alone is intelligible to the artistic man. The poetical boldness, which comprehends the expressions of Nature in a picture of this description, can precisely be first our own successfully, for the very reason that through experience, we are enlightened as to the essential attributes of Nature.

with the poet, to renounce miracles even for poetry, and this happened at the period when the natural phenomena, previously viewed only with the eye of fancy, were made the objects of the operations of the scientific understanding. But even the scientific understanding had no clear idea of the essential attributes of these phenomena, as long as it thought it could represent them intelligibly only by the anatomical exposure of all their inward details; we had not attained certainty with regard to them, until we recognised Nature as a living organisation, and not as a system of mechanism constructed on purpose; until we perceived clearly that she was not created, but is herself the principle always springing afresh into being;* that she contained in herself, at the same time, the procreative and the producing principle, as male and female; that space and time, by which we supposed her to be surrounded, were merely abstractions of her reality; and that, furthermore, we can be satisfied generally with this knowledge, because, for its confirmation, we no longer require to assure ourselves, by mathematical calculation, of the most distant realms of space, since, in our immediate proximity and the least important phenomenon of Nature, we are able to discover proofs of what is capable of being adduced to us from the remotest distance only for the confirmation of our knowledge of her. Since then, we know also that we are to enjoy Nature, because we can enjoy her; that is to say, are capable of enjoying her. The most reasonable enjoyment of Nature, however, is that which satisfies our universal capability of enjoyment; in the universality of the human organs of conception and in the highest enhancement of their capability of enjoyment, alone, lies the standard by which man has to enjoy, and the artist, who deals out this highest capability of enjoyment, has, therefore, to take from this standard alone that, also, of those phenomena which he wishes to communicate to man, and this needs to be regulated by the expressions of Nature in her phenomena, only in so far as they have to correspond to the purport of their essential attributes, which the poet, by increasing and strengthening, does not distort, but-precisely in his expression-merely compresses to the standard which corresponds to that of the highest human yearning after the comprehension of a connection of the greatest kind. It was precisely the fullest understanding of the essential attributes of Nature which first rendered it possible for the poet to introduce her phenomena to us in wondrous shape, for only in this shape will they, as conditions of enhanced human actions, be intelligible to us.

The understanding alone sees nature in her actual reality, and separates her into her minutest parts; if it wishes to represent to itself these parts in their lifelike organic connection, the calmness of its contemplation is put to flight by a greater and greater state of excitement of the mind, which finally remain, only as a frame of feeling.

In this state, man unconsciously again refers Nature to himself, for it was precisely his individual human feeling which caused him to be in a state, in which he experienced Nature according to a certain impression. In the most agitated state of his feelings, he perceives in Nature a sympathising entity, for she then, in truth, in the character of her phenomena, most inevitably decides that of the state of the human mind. It is only in a perfectly egotistical coldness of the understanding that man is capable of avoiding her immediate influence although he must even then say to himself that it still determines him. In great excitement, however, chance exists no longer for man in his meeting with the natural phenomena; the expressions of Nature, which out of a well-founded organic connected series of phenomena come in contact with our ordinary life with seeming capriciousness, are regarded by us, when in an indifferent, or egotistically biassed frame of mind, in upon their foundation in a natural connection, as chance, which, according to the aim of our human purpose, we strive to turn to account as favourable, or ward off as unfavourable. The man who is deeply moved on suddenly turning from his inward mood of mind to surrounding Nature, finds, according to the manner of her manifestation,

*Das immer Werdende.