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the orchestra. The result is such as might be expected-the situation is lost. A solo for Daland, "Mögst du, mein Kind," the duet between Senta and the Holländer, "Wie aus der Ferne," and a terzetto for the three just named, are the other morceaux in this act. The third and last act opens with a chorus of sailors about to leave the port; they are joined by women bringing provisions. The ship of the Holländer, lying at anchor, is hailed by the women and sailors, but no reply is given by the mysterious crew. Suddenly the wind rises, and the spectral mariners man their ship, singing the refrain with which the Holländer has been identified. A double chorus between the two ships' crews follows, and is the noisiest and least effective piece of music in the opera. Senta subsequently appears, followed by Erik, who endeavours to dissuade her, in a duet allegro agitato, "Was musst ich hören," from following the Holländer. The last finale, in which Senta, Daland, the Holländer, the choruses of the sailors, and the women take part, is admirably contrived, and forms a fitting termination to the work. It is somewhat singular that Wagner should consider the Fliegender Holländer as the least important of his operas, another instance that composers are not by any means the best judges of their own productions.

At the Kärntnerthor Theatre the repertoire is almost similar to that of last week. Some changes will, I believe, be made in the performances announced, for even an opera house, under the management of an Emperor's representative, is not exempt from such casualties. "I have sent word that I shall not sing this evening," exclaimed one of the artistes whom I met yesterday. "Not sing," I replied; "but you are announced, and will not surely disappoint us. "No, no! I won't disappoint you," was the reply. But let the Director think so. A few hours' Bauchzwicken will do him no harm."

THE ORGAN.*

ELEVENTH STUDY.-THE SECOND PRINCIPAL CAUSE OF QUALITY OF TONE, VIZ., FORM.-THE FORM OF THE BODY OF THE PIPES. THE form of the pipe may vary without any corresponding variation taking place in the quality of the tones. If in the column of air in the pipe the nodes of the vibrations are at exactly equal distances one from the other, it matters little whether the pipe is cylindrical or prismatic in its form; but if the vibrating portions are not equal to one another, then, in the open flue pipes as well as in the reeds, the form of the body of the pipe, of the vibrating apparatus, and of the foot of the pipe boxes, will vary the quality of the tone into an infinite variety of shades. Nevertheless, these variations in quality of tone are not always produced in the same way in the two kinds of pipes, for in the flue pipes, closed or open, the real sounding body is the column of air enclosed within the tube; in the reed pipes it is the reed itself.

It has been already clearly shown that the communication between the column of air in the pipe and the air outside is in proportion to the diameter of the pipe, consequently, the narrower the pipe is, the less will be the communication between the air inside of it and the air outside, the wider the pipe the greater the communication, and the quality of the sound will follow the same proportions. Now in the flue pipes not only does fineness of scale so lessen the column of air in the pipe as to put in communication with the air outside nothing but the merest thread of a voice, but this communication itself, as regards the head of the pipe, may be completely intercepted, as in the bourdon. And in this last case the pipe will no longer sing as an open flue pipe with a full chest voice, so to say, but will make use of a sort of ventriloquism, or low murmuring sound (bourdonnement); in other words, it will emit that sound from which it gets both its name and its peculiar quality of tone. This bourdon quality, too, has an existence of its own quite independently of that thinness of tone that fineness of scale would also give to a pipe.

The influence that form has in giving a special character to the communication caused by the vibrations between the air in the pipe and the air outside is such, that in proportion as it makes the com

munication to be fuller and more direct, it will be the cause in the open flue pipes as well as in the reeds, not only of a stronger sound, but of a brighter quality of tone, though in reed pipes variations in the scale produce different degrees of power rather than different qualities of tone, properly so called. This is true of all form, but the special sort of form, of which we have to consider the influence here, according to our promise at the end of the last chapter, is that which consists in the various combinations of different scales in one and the same pipe, for these combinations really are the cause, not only of different degrees of power, but also of different qualities of tone.

Let us take, then, as an example of this sort of form, a pipe made up of several scales, laid one over the other, without having their transitions very distinctly marked, as would be the case in a pyramid-shaped pipe. The column of air will be divided throughout this pipe, as it is in a cylindrical one, into separate vibrating portions, each of which portions will be exactly like every other as regards the particular note it will emit, but unlike them with regard to length. For where the diameter is narrower the vibrating portion of the air will be much longer than where the diameter is wider. So that in that part of the pipe where the diameter is wider, at the base of the pyramid that is, the sound produced will tend towards power and fulness; but that produced by the upper part at the apex of the pyramid, where the diameter is narrower, will tend towards the reverse of this. The nearer we get to the head of this sort of pipe, which ends almost in a point, the weaker does the sound become, until, passing on from layer to layer, we arrive at last at its very top, and there we shall find that it has attained its greatest degree of thinness. The diameter, in becoming thus narrowed at its end, according to the ordinary laws, would give the sound of the very fine scale; but then we must remember that this sort of quality would be tempered by the gradual variations taking place in the column of air, beginning at the very head of the pipe, where it would be of the quality of the very fine scale, down to the base of the pyramid, where it would be of the quality partly of the mean, and partly of the full scale.

Let us take another example from amongst the pipes in which one scale may be said to be laid over the other. It shall be a pipe which is partially stopped at its head-a quasi-bourdon, or flue-pipe à cheminée, as it is called. The tube, from its base to about threequarters of its height, is a regular cylinder. It is then stopped like a bourdon, except that a small space is left open at the centre of the lid, a small cap, into which another pipe is inserted. This second pipe is no larger in diameter than the space left open in the сар, minée), because the sound may be said to make its escape by it, as and is only a few inches high. It is called the chimney (chethe smoke does by the chimney; and it is from this that this kind put together the different kinds of sounds, or qualities resulting of compound pipe gets its name, flue-pipe à cheminée. Now, let us from the two scales, here placed one over the other. First, we shall have the quality of tone, which is proper to the pipe that extends from the mouth to the base of the little chimney, and that will be the quality of tone of an open flue-pipe. Next, as this open pipe is partly closed by the cap at its head, for so much of it as is thus closed we shall also have the quality which is peculiar to the bourdon pipe; and lastly, from the little pipe or chimney fastened into the cap, which, as compared to the larger pipe, is a pipe of very fine scale, we shall also have the quality of this scale. Here then in one pipe we have three distinct qualities of tone, and from the combination of these three we get a musical quality of tone which is both soft and loud at the same time, and in which the special characteristics of this threefold combination are very distinctly marked; so much so, indeed, that an experienced builder or tuner would have no difficulty in recognising at once in the fluepipe à cheminée, 1st, the quality of tone of a bourdon; 2nd, the quality of tone of a bourdon of such and such a scale; and 3rd, the quality of tone of a bourdon combined with that of an open flue-pipe of very fine scale and of a lively quality.

As the sound naturally follows the sides of the pipe in the direction of their width, the conic or hyperbolic form is with good reason employed for widening out the sound or increasing its volume. This is the rationale, so to say, of the speaking-trumpet. *From L'Orgue, sa Connaissance, son Administration, et son Jeu, by If this instrument is made too long it will produce a low murmurJoseph Regnier.

ing sound (bourdonnement), which will hinder the words pronounced

in it from being distinctly heard, and with regard to it too great length of tube would of course be simply fatal. But with regard to reed pipes, the result would be just the reverse; for all writers on these matters recommend organ-builders not to cut reed pipes too short, for fear they should be wanting in brightness and this very bourdon effect, an effect, which, in their case, is by no means a cause of confusion. Lately, too, an eminent natural philosopher (M. Poisson), has shown how this recommendation of practical men is good, not only in practice, but theory. For he shows that the separate vibrating portions of air, urged by the impetus given to the column of air in the direction of its width in an extended cone, acquire a force and fulness of play which they would never acquire by merely following the straight sides of a pipe, which is simply cylindrical. And hence we may conclude that the sound which is produced by cone-shaped pipes in an organ, is the most open, the most grand and magnificent quality of tone that can possibly be got from any sounding body. But since the coneshaped pipe, owing to the great width of its head, takes up a great deal of space on the sound-board-since, again, the open flue-pipes made of this shape do not speak their proper note, unless each of them is cut with the greatest accuracy to the exact length required for each particular note; and since, without going to considerable expense in making experiments, there is consequently great danger of cutting them false, builders never make use of the cone-shaped pipe for more than one series of stops, namely the reeds.

The cone-shaped pipe, then, has a quality of tone which is peculiar to itself. This might be still further varied by taking a pipe of the speaking-trumpet shape and covering it with another as a lid. The two pipes thus treated would give us a pipe made up of two cones, more or less alike at the ends, but exactly so at their bases, placed inversely one against the other, and fastened together so as to leave no opening but a very small one at the end. In this pipe we should have at the centre a quality of tone full and ample, so to say, as the pipe itself is, but becoming less and less so as it approaches more nearly the narrower ends of the pipe. Examples of a pipe of an exactly opposite form may be met with in ancient German organs*, of a pipe that is made up first of two cones joined one to the other in the way described above, and then of a third cone fastened by its end to the end of the second of the two first cones. But every day the art of organ-building tends towards its perfection by becoming more simple, and by ridding itself of useless fancies. Moreover, it is not part of our plan to give an exact list of all the various kinds of combinations, scales, and forms, and consequently of qualities of tone which there either are or might be, otherwise we should never have done, still less to inquire into all the possible causes of all the different qualities of tone; on the contrary, it is strictly limited to giving a sufficient account of the principal causes of quality of tone in general, without attempting to carry our researches any further into the more hidden mysteries of the same. We will do no more than cite one other example of form as affecting quality of tone, and we do so because it has at least the merit of being a praiseworthy attempt towards the reduction of the immense bulk of the organ.

The learned savant, who speaks of this form while he is considering our subject strictly from the scientific point of view, shows that by diminishing the length of the speaking part of the pipes, and by enlarging their scale in proportion, a column of air can be got, the vibrations of which will be the same as those of the column of air set in motion within a pipe of the ordinary form. It may be taken for granted that open pipes and bourdons thus cubic in form would not be wanting in purity of tone, and as to its quality, it would have certainly all the conditions of the greatest fulness of tone, but this fulness would be softened down as well because of the want of thickness in the longitudinal layers of sound in the pipe, as because of the ease with which these same layers would be crossed and divided by the air outside, in the passage of the sound from the pipe to the ear. Perhaps a very fair idea of the kind of quality of such pipes may be got from that of the ophicleide, which is large in its scale but limited as regards its length; and though this kind of quality would be far from being perfect, still, we repeat, all attempts made with a view to being useful to an art are not unworthy of respect, although not attended with complete success. Unfor

* See Seydel, Orgel, und ihr Bau. Verbo Barpfeife.

tunately for such attempts, practical men who have made trial of them assert that cubic-shaped pipes cannot be made so as to produce any but the most dull and hard quality of tones, nor without giving rise to the most perplexing difficulties upon the sound-board from want of room. This may be true; but then it must be borne in mind that it is the conclusion of men who, perfect though they may be as regards the practice of their art, limit their ideas wholly to that, and would not for their lives venture one step out of the region of practice into that of theory.

STAGE AND PULPIT.

BOX v. PEW.

(From the Leeds and West Riding Express.)

Ir is said that men resemble their grandfathers far more than they suspect, the habits of their bodies rather than their souls making the chief difference. It strikes us, however, that large numbers of them resemble rather their grandmothers. Certainly it is undeniable that gentlemen daily thrust themselves before the public with such striking old-womanly qualities and habits of thought, that it is difficult to account for their escape from the petticoats and pattens suitable for such dear, good, silly souls. We do not wish to say anything offensive of Mr. Jowitt, the hon. secretary of the Leeds Ragged School. We take it for granted, that in writing his letter to Mr. Thorne he acted for others as much as for himself; and therefore we shall not say anything of a harsh nature to Mr. Jowitt personally. But the supposition which we give him the benefit of, forces upon us the unpleasant conclusion that we must have in Leeds-and we say this notwithstanding the good work these men are engaged in-some of the silliest, most stupid, and impertinent specimens of piety to be found in connection with any system of religion on the face of the earth. It is intolerable that these people, by the puerility and disgusting offensiveness of their acts, should bring a sublime religion into contempt,- —a religion which, through being bewildered by pious conceit, they can neither feel nor understand. Mr. Thorne, the manager of our theatre, in a generous spirit, creditable to him as a man, offered one night's receipts of his theatre to help the friends of the Ragged School. We honour him for the act; and if the managers of that charity either understood the religion they profess to believe in, or the literature of their country, they would have accepted the offer with gratitude and thanks, instead of thrusting back ungraciously the kindly hand held out to them. We do not reprove these people by saying that Lord Palmerston, whom they trotted out the other day to help their friends, is not only a patron of the theatre, but of the tur also; nor do we inform them that the highest lady in the land -whose visit a short time since to our town was looked upon as the most important event that ever happened in connection with it-patronises the drama; although we dare say that such considerations would influence them more than any other. Nor shall we tell them that the actors on the stage are not the worst performers in the world; some of the very worst and most dishonest perform in the pulpit, and are sometimes applauded, too, by those who turn their backs with scorn on the honest men of the sock and buskin. If these modern Pharisees were not drunk with spiritual pride, as partially educated Englishmen, they would know that the greatest human intellect the world holds knowledge of was exercised in creating the best specimens of the finest dramatic literature the world possesses. Who can stand up and say that the faculty given by God to Shakspeare had not its tendencies from the same divine source! Or who with loving heart can read the beautiful and sublime lessons of the great bard, and not acknowledge the beneficence of his genius. Intellectually, there is as much difference between Shakspeare and the pious insects of Leeds, as between Micromegas, the giant of Sirius, and the little men who, when he came to this earth, crawled upon his thurub nail.

We are thankful to these little pious people for the good they do, for everything in the economy of nature has its use, and if they were disposed to perform their work with the humbleness and modesty which usually accompany sincerity and good sense, they would be entitled to the respect and support of their fellow

citizens. But they must not forget that, next to those divine injunctions promulgated in regard to the destitute and the needy, the highest and the best are those which Shakspeare and the other great dramatists of England have left us as an inheritance by which to nourish a spirit of charity and manliness. What better text could those have who superintend Ragged Schools, or look after and relieve the necessities of the houseless poor, than the words put into the mouth of King Lear, when, bare-headed and storm-beaten, he cries out:

"Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,

That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp-
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just."

And these are amongst the teachings of the poor players who strut and fret their hour upon the stage;-but still, we hope, like all their fellow-creatures, doing their common duties, as Milton says, in "The great taskmaster's eye," and responsible to Him, notwithstanding their utter unworthiness in the eyes of the committee who manage the Leeds Ragged School. If Mr. Jowitt and his friends participated more largely in the great humanities of the stage, and a little less in the narrow bigotry and dirty pride of the pew, they would have known that mercy shown by man to man, by the strong to the weak, by the rich to the poor, dropped

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MADAME NOVELLO'S FAREWELL CONCERT.

Not

OUR English Jenny Lind sang her last notes on Wednesday night in
St. James's Hall. The audience was worthy of the occasion-so
numerous that locomotion was scarcely possible, and so discriminating
that only the most exquisite manifestations of artistic skill succeeded in
raising any enthusiastic demonstrations of approval. Mad. Novello's
"Farewell" was in keeping with her past and honourable career.
a single "trap" was laid to entice applause from the unreflecting. It
was a manifestation of pure unadulterated art from beginning to end;
and at the termination of the concert the vast assembly dispersed with
the most intimate conviction that music had lost one of its most gifted
and justly distinguished representatives. About a quarter of a century
has elapsed since Clara Novello first came before the public, with a
voice that at once elicited unanimous admiration, as one of the most
perfect sopranos-allowing even for Billington, Paton, and Stephens-
England had produced within the memory of the oldest amateurs, and
a talent of such marked promise as warranted unrestricted belief in the
future eminence of its young possessor All that was predicted then-
not merely by those who, like Charles Lamb, regarded the late Vincent
Novello, Clara's father, as a phoenix among musicians (see " Chapter on
Ears," in the Essays of "Elia "), but by impartial observers, who had
never listened to the ineffable harmony flowing from the fingers of that
most sublime and "inexplicable" of organists-was more than realised.
Miss Novello went to Italy, and as "the Clara,” made the "délices” of
the Scala at Milan, and other first-class theatres. Her return to Lon-
don led to a series of professional triumphs almost without example,
only arrested by her marriage with an Italian nobleman, and her con-
sequent (temporary) retirement from the arena of public exhibition.
What were the reasons that induced Madame Novello (the Contessa
-) to resume her professional career is no business of ours. Enough
that she was welcomed back with rapture by all genuine lovers of the
musical art, and that she who had figured conspicuously on the stage,
as a representative of the most arduous characters in the lyric drama,
now devoted her admirable talents exclusively to the concert-room, and
most especially to oratorios and sacred music. It is not too much to

say that the performances at Exeter Hall, and at our great provincial

part of their attractions to the singing of this accomplished lady, who, festivals, have, for the last ten years or thereabout, owed a very large in conjunction with Mr. Sims Reeves, to whom devolved the mantle of the elder Braham, have maintained the English school at such a height as, by the consent of well-judging foreigners themselves, to defy all foreign competition. It is almost superfluous to cite the well-remembered compliment paid to Mad. Novello by the most illustrious composer of his time, who, when applied to by the Philharmonic Society to recommend for the Philharmonic Concerts "the two best singers in Germany," named Clara Novello and another, then performing at the Leipsic Gewandhaus; but the opinion of Mendelssohn was merely an echo of the universal verdict throughout musical Europe; and he who, before all other gifts, admired a classical purity of style, in all proba

more signal example of what was most thoroughly to his taste than in

the lady whose name his pen first traced in answer to the application of

But the mercy of Mr. Thorne, expressed practically by a night's receipts of his theatre, so far as the Leeds Ragged School is concerned, lost its virtue in both ways, as the gifts, through being refused, robbed both parties of the benefit to be derived from it. We should like our pious friends to reflect, if they can, on the loss which our land would have suffered, if Shakspeare and the mighty men who laboured in his craft,- -or in his double craft, for he was both play writer, and play actor,-had never lived, never written, or never represented to us on the stage those vices and virtues, those strengths and weaknesses, those joys and sorrows, which make up so much of the sum of human life. We cannot consent to place the actor in the category of the leper, that he may be shunned for fear of contagion; we know that at this moment Macready is spending a portion of the money earned by him on the stage, for the education of the young in the neigh-bility throughout his short and brilliant career had never met with a bourhood where he proposes to end a life, which in its usefulness has been far greater, we are satisfied, than that of any Ragged School patron in Leeds, and which has given more real pleasure to the world than the lives of the whole lot would, if put together and stretched out to patriarchal lengths. The next thing we shall hear of will be the refusal of burial in consecrated ground to those who write or act plays. An impudence like this, once permitted to assert itself, will not know where to stop. Mr. Jowitt may think, that according to his views, he is doing the actors justice, and will say, as Polonius said to Hamlet, "My Lord, I will use them according to their desert," to which, however, we would reply as Hamlet did, "Odd's bodikin, man, much better; Use every man after his desert and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty." Hamlet, however, was a philosopher; what Mr. Jowitt and his brother committee. men are, the public of Leeds, we should imagine, by this time understand pretty correctly.

MRS. THOMAS PERRY, formerly organist of the parish church, Edmonton, who was chosen teacher of music to the Infant Orphan Asylum, Wanstead, for her high class testimonials, as an organist, in September, 1859, has recently been appointed organist to the new chapel of that institution. The organ is from the factory of Gray and Davison, and well sustains the reputation of its builders.

the Philharmonic directors.

them now.

The

however, so recently spoken that it is quite unnecessary to dwell upon
Of these and other matters relating to Mad. Novello's career, we have,
The irreparable loss about to be sustained by the musical
world was duly felt on Wednesday night, when, although labouring
evidently under the effects of indisposition, Mad. Novello sang the
majority of the pieces set down for her in such a manner as to extort
unqualified admiration of her artistic refinement, together with an avowal,
from all sides, that her voice-at this the moment of her abdicating the
throne she has so long gloriously filled-was as clear and penetrating,
as vigorous and flexible, as bell-like ("silver-toned?") in quality, and,
from gradation to gradation, as unerringly modulated as ever.
panied by a proportionate degree of regret that the term of their exer-
tacit acknowledgment of such unfaded powers was naturally accom
cise, for the advantage and delight of those who rejoice in the accents
of "the human voice divine," was so near approaching its conclusion;
and the last piece allotted to her in the programme, the "Ave Maria,”
from Mendelssohn's unfinished Loreley, seemed the more appropriate,
inasmuch as its quiet, sober, and half-melancholy cast was in keeping
with the feeling with which its impressive and delicious strains were
be sung to Mendelssohn's music.
now associated. It was only just that Clara Novello's "adieu" should
Nor could anything better fitted to
the occasion have been selected than this "Ave Maria "--the "swan's
song "of a genius in another sphere. The grand scene from Oberon (her
first performance) was chiefly interesting as one of those pieces which
Mad. Novello has been, of recent years, most frequently in the habit of
introducing, although it was never well suited to her style. Far diffe-

rent and far more deep and genuine was the impression she produced in Susanna's love-song, "Deh! vieni non tardar," in which Mozart-by what many may term an oversight, though really none at all-makes Figaro's mistress very nearly as sentimental as the Countess Almaviva herself. Jenny Lind alone excepted, no one has sung this beautiful air to such absolute perfection as the heroine of yesterday evening, who never gave it with more consummate grace, simplicity, and unaffected expression. The notes of the final cadence seemed to linger as if the songstress, who had uttered them so often, was loth to part with them for ever; and most assuredly they will dwell long and tenderly in the memory of those who now heard them for the last time from the same lips. If any song could be mentioned out of the domain of sacred music with which the name of Mad. Novello has been closely and deservedly associated, it is this exquisite inspiration of the most melodious and natural of composers. Of Mr. Benedict's Undine, which occupied the second part of the programme, we can only say, at present, that the general execution was remarkably good, that Miss Palmer (Bertalda), Mr. Wilbye Cooper (Hildebrand), and Mr. Weiss (Kühleborn), were all that could be wished in their respective parts; and that the highly favourable opinion pronounced on the cantata in the reports of the Norwich Festival were more than justified by a second hearing. Undine will, of course, be given again not long hence; our London concertgivers are not likely to overlook so true and genial a master-piece, especially after the enthusiastic reception it experienced last night, and the honours lavished by the whole audience on its accomplished composer, who directed the performance with his accustomed talent. The Undine was the same Undine who enchanted the amateurs of East Anglia, and by her siren tones fully accounted for the infatuation of the enamoured mortal, Hildebrand. Nothing could be purer, nothing more artistically finished, nothing more musically effective than Mad. Novello's execution of this music, every phrase of which lies so readily within her means, and is so nicely fitted to the peculiar excellencies of her delivery that it is reasonable to presume Mr. Benedict must have been thinking of her during the whole progress of his labour in producing it. The "sensation" (a cantata like an opera, must have its sensation") was created by the charmingly tuneful air-with chorus of women's voices-" Mark the waves that rippling play," a legitimate triumph alike for singer and composer.

Mad. Novello's final effort was a solo verse in the National Anthem, which brought out once more, and for the last time, that unparagoned " B flat" which has so often enraptured multitudes at the Crystal Palace, and was one of the memorable incidents of the inauguration of that monument. The "B flat" has been talked over ever since, and will in all probability be a theme among amateurs for years to come. A fresher note was never uttered—a lovelier nor a more emphatically musical; and, now that it can be heard no more, except in the mind's ear, we may congra tulate its fair possessor on this emphatic display of its undiminished force and purity. Mad. Novello quits the arena of public exhibition in the plenitude of her powers. It cannot be said of her that she retires because she no longer boasts the means of pleasing as before; on the contrary (as in the instance of her Swedish contemporary, already twice alluded to), the unanimous opinion is that the musical art, in losing her, has been deprived of one of its most brilliant ornaments, and that without any adequate reason.

FRENCH PLAYS.

AN entirely new character is given to M. Talexy's enterprise by the engagement of Mad. Doche. The performances with which he commenced his season were so merely respectable, there was so utter an absence of any name striking enough to catch the public eye, that the French play seemed in danger of being forgotten altogether. With Mad. Doche, however, a new era begins, the melancholy sight of half a dozen loungers scattered about the stalls having been succeeded by that of a numerous audience, amply filling every part of the Bijou Theatre, which, by the way, is as well suited to its purpose as any house in London. All that it wants is an independent entrance to attract the attention of the passing stranger, who will scarcely surmise that by ascending the staircase of Her Majesty's Theatre, and turning to the left, he will reach a separate establishment entirely devoted to the representation of French plays.

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But her

Mad. Doche was in London last summer, and was to have appeared at the St. James's, as one of M. Talexy's leading "stars." repertory, at the head of which stood the Dame aux Camélias, was of such a nature that it did not pass muster at the licenser's, the curious wondering not a little that a piece which had been played with impunity as an opera was prohibited as a drama. Consequently Mad. Doche remained unseen during her summer visit, and she will now appear in a series of parts not identified with her Parisian reputation.

Perhaps even that very circumstance may increase the attraction of the accomplished actress, for many of the patrons of the French plays are accustomed to Paris, and will be anxious to see Mad. Doche under a novel aspect. Nor has she shown any timidity in the choice of a new path. Adrienne Lécouvreur is the character she selected for her first night, and we need not say that of all the parts in the repertory of the late Mlle. Rachel, this was one of the most attractive in the eyes of the London public. The bold attempt has succeeded, and an artist need not desire heartier plaudits than those that followed the mimic death of Mad. Doche at the end of the drama.

That the Adrienne of Mad. Doche is based on Mlle. Rachel's conception there is no doubt; the resemblance even extends to the position of the emphasis and the intonation of the voice. Nor must it be imagined that the lady's known talent as an artist of comedy has tempted her to give a tone of levity to the part. Adrienne is still the earnest, impas. sioned woman to whom we have been always accustomed, and every point incident to her development has been carefully studied by Mad. Doche. The tenderness with which she repeats the fable of La Fontaine, delicately indicating her love for Maurice, while describing the farewell of the pigeon to its departing mate is serious to the last degree. Her entrance into the salon of the Prince de Bouillon, in the fourth act, where she is received by the assembly of titled beauties, is distinguished by a dignity of manner admirably qualified by a modest acknowledg ment of inferior rank, and the effect of the situation is greatly heightened by the taste and splendour of her dress. The recitation of the passage from Phèdre, in which she denounces the Princess, is given with true eloquence and overwhelming spirit, bringing down the curtain amid universal applause. On the various emotions of the last scene where to the delineation of other emotions is added the appearance of delirium, Mad. Doche has bestowed a profound study, and is nowhere more felicitous than when she indicates the gradual departure of consciousness, as the poisoned bouquet first begins to take effect. In a word this great part is completely rendered throughout, and we may consider that French plays" are once more established in London, for M. Talexy's general company, though not strong enough to stand alone, can efficiently support a distinguished leader.

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COURT THEATRICALS.-The first theatrical representation this season at Windsor Castle, before her Majesty and Court, is commanded for the 29th inst. when the Adelphi company (assisted by Mr. and Mrs. Wigan) will perform Ici on parle Français and Masks and Faces. The whole arrangements are under the control of Mr. Donne. The Adelphi and St. James's Theatres will be closed on the 29th instant.

DEATH OF MR. F. G. TINNEY.-(From an occasional Contributor.)-With regret we have to record the death of the above talented and clever pianist and composer. He died on the 13th inst., deeply lamented by numerous friends, both in and out of the musical profession, at the early age of 45, and was interred at the Brompton Cemetery on Friday, his remains followed to the grave by his family, Mr. Charles Coote, his late partner, and several members of the musical profession, &c. Mr. Tinney, in his sphere as a composer of dance music, and compared with surrounding luminaries in that line, was a star of the first magnitude, and his works will not soon be forgotten amongst the salons of the aristocracy and gentry, where, during the season, a new waltz or quadrille was hailed with enthusiasm from his pen, and not considered one of the ephemeral effusions of the terpsichorean world, but an artistic triumph accompanied by the highest musical intelligence. He was partner with Mr. C. Coote up to the year 1857, and codirector of the famous "Coote and Tinney's band." His friends, who were aware of his integrity and kindheartedness, feel deeply his loss, and deplore that from a cruel and deplorable disease, which embittered with many pangs his latter days, and preyed on a frame already weak by nature, compelled him to abstain from any vigorous action in his professional career for the last three years. He has left a widow and seven children totally unprovided for. Surely those who have joined in the gay and festive scenes amid "marble halls," to the enlivening strains of poor Tinney's waltzes will minister comfort to his bereaved widow and children, and while his remembrance must long endure in the sphere which his talents most adorned, and his name respected, for no man owned him a grudge, or could he count an enemy, it is to be hoped an appeal will not be made in vain to the public, to whose amusement he administered in the shape of some of the most popular dance music of the day. Contributions received by the principal musicsellers.

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PART I.-Quartet, in C minor, Op. 18, No. 4 (Beethoven), Two Violins, Viola, and Violoncello (by desire), M. SAINTON, Herr RIES, Herr SCHREURS, and Signor FIATTI. Song, "Nozze di Figaro" (Mozart), Mr. SANTLEY. Song, "Canst thou deem my heart is changing," (Macfarren) Charles II., Miss GERARD. Sonata, in E flat, Op. 7, Pianoforte solus (Beethoven), First time, Mr. CHARLES HALLE.

PART II.-Sonata, in F major, for Violoncello and Pianoforte (Beethoven), Signor PIATTI and Mr. CHARLES HALLE. Song," Gipsy's Warning" (Benedict), Mr. SANTLEY. Song, "Knowest thou the Land" (Beethoven) Miss GERARD. Trio, in G major, Op. 1, Pianoforte, Violin, and Violoncello (Beethoven), Mr. CHARLES HALLE, M. SAINTON, and Signor PIATTI.

Conductor-MR. BENEDICT.

Stalls, 5s.; balcony, 3s.; unreserved seats, Is. Tickets to be had of Mr. Austin, at the Hall, 28, Piccadilly; and the principal music publishers.

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LONDON: SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1860.

THE composer of the immediate future (at least in London) is, after all, not Herr Wagner, whose unofficially promised Tannhäuser we should have liked to hear at the Royal English Opera, though we can quite understand our wishes on that subject not being shared by Miss Louisa Pyne and Mr. Harrison. The coming mastro, who is to attack us at once at both our opera-houses, is a gentleman of Parisian fame, or at least of Opéra Comique and Théâtre Lyrique

No. 1.-DUSSEK'S SONATA IN B FLAT (Performed, for the Fourth time, at the Monday notoriety. His name is Victor Massé, his nation France;

INSTRUMENTAL DEPARTMENT. (Edited by S. ARTHUR CHAPPELL.Popular Concerts, November 12, 1860-First Concert, Third Season.) No. 2.-Mo ZART'S SONATA IN B FLAT (No. 14), for Pianoforte and Violin. (Frequently performed at the Monday Popular Concerts.) VOCAL DEPARTMENT. (Edited by S. ARTHUR CHAPPELL). NAME THE GLAD DAY," Canzonet, written by JOHN OXENFORD, Esq., composed by J. L. DUSSEK (Sung by Madame LEMMENS-SHERRINGTON, at the Monday Popular Concerts, Nov. 12, 1860) Ah, why do we love?" (Macfarren). "Soft and bright the Gems of Night" (H. Smart); and "Thy pardon, dearest Treasure" duet (Dussek). London: CHAPPELL & Co., 49 and 50, New Bond Street.

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Paris is his dwelling-place, and Les Noces de Jeannette and La Reine Topaze are to be his salvation with the English.

If any one had asked us to mention some composer of reputation and of decided merit, whose music, gracefully and cleverly written as it might be, would not be likely to succeed in England, we should have hesitated for half a minute, and should then have named M. Victor Massé. our questioner, however, had reminded us that this composer had written several attractive "light soprano" parts, such as could not fail to exhibit to advantage the brilliant voca

If

ER MAJESTY'S THEATRE.-Farewell perform-lisation of Miss Louisa Pyne, we should have admitted that

HER

(Saturday) Nov. 24, ROBIN HOOD: Sims Reeves, Santley, Honey, Parkinson, Patey, Bartleman, Lemaire, and Lemmens-Sherrington. Commencing at 8 o'clock each evening. Reduced prices as usual.

we had perhaps replied somewhat hastily, but of course should not have eaten our words. Probably, however, by

THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY-LANE.-Notice. The way of conciliating our interlocutor, we should have added

THIS EVENING (Saturday). Mr. Webster, although suffering from severe indisposition, has continued to perform nightly rather than disappoint the public. The following letter has been received from Mr. Webster, which compels the lessee to withdraw the play after to-morrow night :

"New Theatre Royal, Adelphi, Nov. 21, 1860. "My dear Mr. Smith,-I have struggled on through a bronchial affection in order not to stop the run of the new drama, A Story of the "45;" but the effect is too serious to proceed further than this week at present. I regret this interference with your interest, but cannot help it.

"Dr. Billing will inform you what I have suffered.

"E. T. Smith, Esq."

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HEATRE ROYAL, DRURY-LANE.-Lessee, Mr. E. CHARLES MATHEWS, Messrs. B WEBSTER, J. T. TOOLE, PAUL BEDFORD, R. ROXBY, TILBORY, BELFORD, LAMBERT, M LEAN, TEMPLETON, FARRELL, Mrs. FRANK MATHEWS, Mrs. DoWTON, Misses ARDEN, H. HOWARD, HENRIETTA SIMMS, &c. Two New Pieces, with the most extraordinary and triumphant success ever achieved within the walls of a theatre.-THIS EVENING (Saturday), Nov. 24, Her Majesty's Servants will perform (for the last time but one this season) Watts Phillips's great historical drama, A TALE OF THE "45," with Beverley's magnificent scenery and effects, together with the accurate Tableau of Hogarth. Principal characters by Messrs. B. WEBSTER, J. T. TOOLE, PAUL BEDFORD, SPENCER, M'LEAN, DIXON, BARSBY; Mesdames H. SIMMS, H. HOWARD, THIRLWALL, &c. To conclude with the new comedy of the BILLET DOUX. Characters by Mr. and Mrs. C. MATHEWS,, Messrs. M LEAN, FARRELL, SPENCER; Mrs. FRANK MATTHEWS, Mrs. DowтON, Miss ARDEN, and Miss HoWARD. The box-office open daily, from 10 till 5 o'clock Doors open at half-past 6; commence at 7. Reduced prices. Stage Manager-Mr. Robert Roxby.

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that Mad. Miolan-Carvalho's part of La Reine Topaze, in the opera so entitled, would also suit Mad. Lemmens-Sherrington to a D. To this our imaginary well-informed personage would have rejoined (with more or less politeness), that whatever we might think about the part of "La Reine Topaze" being suited to Mad. Lemmens-Sherrington, she was not going to sing it, inasmuch as it had been already allotted to Mlle. Parepa.

"Mlle. Parepa!" we should have exclaimed; "you mean the Mlle. Parepa who made her first appearance in England at the Royal Italian Opera, as Elvira in the Puritani, who used to sing the air from Ernani with so much success at the Crystal Palace Concerts, and who, at the Royal English Opera, played the part of Leonora in the Trovatore so much better than any other singer who ever attempted it at an English theatre ?

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