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The death of Mr. Edward Wright is not so much felt as an actual loss by the playgoers of the present day, as it awakens a melancholy reminiscence of past merriment. Fer some time the prince of farceurs had been afflicted with a malady from which recovery was deemed impossible, and his name therefore had not lately stood on the list of our effective histrionic force.

If the demise of most other actors has caused us to lament an irreparable gap in the ranks of theatrical art, the death of Mr. Wright may be compared to the cessation of a dynasty. The late Mr. John Reeve, in the zenith of his popularity, connected with the post of Adelphi low comedian a sort of supremacy over the London public to which there was no parallel in any other theatre. To the holder of this exalted post belonged, of right, a freedom of dialogue which would not have been tolerated elsewhere, for a strict adherence to text was altogether impossible, where the mirth-seeking audience expected their despotic humorist to entertain them with a perpetual succession of new pleasantries. As the socalled " tyrant" of the ancient world was generally dependent on the democracy, so did the leading comedian of the Adelphi depend less on the rulers of the establishment than on the mass of the public who applauded. He was not only the admired artist; he was the merry companion, the jovial friend who made his hearers laugh away the troubles of the day, and was always ready to devise a new joke for their refreshment. That abnegation of individual identity, that absorption of self in the assumed part, which we admire so much in the Daddy Hardacre or the Sampson Burr of Mr. Eobson, was not required in the Adelphi low comedian; nay, it would have been completely adverse to his interests. "The pet" theatre of London—loved on account of its very ugliness—was expected to show the pet actor himself unobscured by any artificial disguise. When Mr. J. M. Morton gave to one of his best farces the title Seeing Wright, he exactly expressed the humour of the Adelphi. The admirers of the great farceur actually did go to see Wright; not such and such a personage, sustained by Wright, but Wright himself. Those parts which will go down to posterity in connection with his name are precisely those in which he was most free to exhibit his own idiosyncrasy,— Muster Grinnidge, in Green Bushes, and the rheumatic gentleman in Harvest Home.

The Adelphi throne, left vacant by the death of John Eeeve, was exactly fitted for Wright. The theatre seemed to have been made on purpose for him, and he to have been born for the use and behoof of the theatre. His dibut at the St. James's, more than twenty years ago, successful as it was, did not raise him to anything like a first position among the comedians of the day; his migrations, after ho had once established himself at the Adelphi, were rather unfortunate than otherwise. As Havel belongs to the Palais Royal, so did Wright belong to the Adelphi. There he shot up like a rocket to the acme of his fame: moved from the old boards, his lustre at once began to lose its brilliancy.

The curious in coincidences may dwell upon the fact that Mr. Wright did not long survive the demolition of the old theatre in which he gained his glory. We have said that he belonged exclusively to the Adelphi—we are inclined to limit the expression, and say that he belonged exclusively to the old Adelphi. The new house, admirably qualified for spectacle on the grand scale, is not favourable to the establishment of that intimacy between audience and actor which belonged to the days of Reeve and Wright.

No, the dynasty of farce despots is extinct. New genera

tions bring with them new manners. Not only is the monarch dead, but the throne is crumbled away.

Mr. Albert Smith.—It gives us infinite pleasure to make known that Mr. Albert Smith has entirely recovered from his late severe attack, and that he has announced the resumption of his entertainment in the Egyptian Hall next week.

LONDON GLEE AND MADRIGAL UNION. This now well-established institution has taken up quarters at the Dudley Gallery, Egyptian Hall, where its first concert for the season was held yesterday afternoon in presence of an audience both numerous and appreciative. Mr. Land, to whose talent, industry^ and zeal the London Glee and Madrigal Union owes its honourable position, and who, besides performing excellent service as tenor, presides with musicianly skill at the

Eianoforte whenever accompaniments are required, was again at is post as director; while Mr. Thomas Olipbant (Hon. Sec. to the Madrigal Society), one of the most noted of onr musical antiquarians and commentators, officiated with his accustomed earnestness and ability as literary illustrator,* prefacing each composition with apt and interesting remarks, and conveying a good deal of valuable information in a manner at once intelligible and unobtrusive. Mr. Olipbant touched briefly upon several important subjects connected with the rise and progress of vocal music in this country, in the course of his observations paying a marked and deserved tribute to Mr. William Chappell's admirable work called Popular Music of the Olden Time. The respective appreciations of Samuel Webbe's glee, "When winds breathe soft," and of the late Dr. Horsley generally as a glee composer, may have exhibited Mr. Oliphant rather in the light of au enthusiast for particular manifestations of somewhat ordinary (however respectable) talent than as a severe critical judge; but such enthusiasm as his tends in a healthy direction, and cannot possibly be injurious.

The first part of the programme yesterday—comprising specimens of an early period, up to the beginning of the seventeenth century—is worth quoting:—

Ancient Bound (six voices), "Summer is icumen

in" Unknown.

The Kyngo's Balade, "Passetyme with good com-) Attributed to

panie" j Henry VIII.

Madrigal, "Down in a flow'ry vale" (as originally

set for the yokes of men ... ... ... Eesta.

Kentish Wooing Song and Chorus, "I hare house

and land in Kent" ... Unknown.

Madrigal, "In going to my lonely bed" B. Edwarde*.

May polo Song and Choru9, "To the maypole, haste

away" Unknown.

Three Men's Song, "Strike it up, neighbour."

(From T. Weelkes's "Ayres or Fantastic

Spirits.")

Song, "My song's of a maid that charms our vale" Traditional. Dialogue, " In the merry Bpring" T. Raveiucroft

The round for six voices ("Summer'is icumen in") is one of the oldest specimens of English vocal part-music extant, and

* "PBOLOGUE. "My title here is of a novel nature, They've dubb'd me Literary Illustrator i Mut what that means is rather undefined, In fact, I've not yet quite made up my mind. 'Twould seem that I'm to play a part like Chorut, Who in the ancient drama comes before us (Whene'er the audience are with doubts perplext), To tell them plainly what is coming next. Or like policeman, who with lantern dark, In hidden nook or corner placed to mark The movement of some thieving, roguish elf, Turns his light full on all things but himself! If such my duty here—then be it so. I am content, if light I can put throw On our performance—and will not complain, Though I, policeman like, in shadow still remain.'

fully as quaint as it is ancient. "Tha Kynge's Balade," though attributed to Henry VTII.—a famous musician for a king—was known in the time of Henry VII.; its precise origin, however, is scarcely worth disputing, its merit being by no means on a par with the curiosity excited by its reputed authorship. Of all the compositions introduced in the first part—the imcomparable madrigal of Festa, and the delicious Elizabethan "Maypole Song" (the solos in which were delivered carefully, if a little too slowly, by Miss Wells) excepted—the madrigal of Edwardes, "In going to my lonely bed," was the most attractive, both as an example of what sort of music oould be written at the very commencement of the sixteenth century, and as a model of lyrical expression. Such words, it is true, might have inspired a contemplative musician in an age when music was still young: "In going to my lonely bed

As one that would have slept,
I beard a wife sing to ber child
That long bad moan'd and wept.

She sighed sore, and sang full sweet,

To lull the babe to rest,
That would not cease, but cried still

Upon its mother's breast.

She was full weary of her watch,

And grieved with her child;
She rocked it, and rated it,

Till chat on her it smiled.

Then did she say, 'Now have I found

This proverb true to prove,
The falling out of faithful friends

Renewing is of love.'"

All the above pieces were sung in a very efficient manner, more especially the madrigals, which, nevertheless, we are accustomed to hear with a large number of voices to each part—certainly a more effective if not a more legitimate method. (It should be mentioned that the London Glee and Madrigal Union includes two ladies, Miss J. Wells and Miss Eyles, and four gentlemen, Messrs. Baxter, Cummings, Lawler, and Land, who are employed, according to the number of voices which the various compositions may call into request.) In the second part, familiar (too familiar !) glees of Webbe, Horsley, and Bishop, and Webbe's excellent catch, "Would you know my Celia's charms "—in which, notwithstanding her u fortit(y)-tude," and her "thirty lovers," the age of Madame Celia, the tender point of the argument, is shown to be "fifty-five"—were hit off to perfection. The solo ballads, too, were remarkable, and above all, "Barbara Allen "—to the English (and as Mr. Chappell truly says, the best) melody, although Mr. Oliphant's compression of the Scotch words was used. This was sung with exquisite feeling by Miss Eyles, who imparted both to the poetry and the music the true and genuine expression, the audience being so pleased that they called upon her to repeat it. Miss Eyles was no less successful in "Weel may the keel row ;" while Mr. Lawler, in Mr. Oxenford's capital song to the old tune of "Three merry men of Kent" (" May he who wears a sulky face ") evinced the right kind of spirit. Encores were also awarded to Bishop's glee "The Fisherman's good night," and to the merry catch already cited, the salient points in which were "caught up" with infinite zest and humour by Messrs. Baxter, Cummings, Land, and Lawler, the usual hilarity being provoked at Celia's expense. Altogether the entertainment was first-rate of its class, and worthy the growing reputation of the "London Glee and Madrigal Union."

St. James's Hall.—Mr. Brinley Biehards' "New Year's Concert" (so-called) on the 2nd instant, partook largely of the character formerly denominated " popular," ere that term had become associated with those Monday evening gatherings now familiar to every lover of good music. Not that we would thereby infer that the selection was by any means nn-popular, as the crowded state of the room and warm applause frequently testified that a large section of the public can be delighted with a programme made up almost exclusively of light materials. The name of the bintficiaire is of itself sufficiently popular to

bring many of Mr. Brinley Richards' admirers, while the announcement of Miss Balfe, Mesdames Badia and Fiorentini, Herr Beichardt, Signors Sivori and Bottesini, would add considerably to the attraction. The audience, however, were doomed to be disappointed of the first-named lady, for reasons which were extensively circulated all over the room by means of a printed statement, with copies of the correspondence between Mr. Willert Beale and Mr. Balfe. Mad. Corbari (who will be remembered at the Italian Opera) supplied the place of the absentee, but was prevented from doing herself full justice by the fatigue under which she was evidently suffering, consequent upou a long journey, and to which allusion was made in an apology delivered by a gentleman evideutly "unaccustomed to public speaking," and which only provoked a general titter. The " tempestuous" speech was, moreover, quite unnecessary, as the facts had already been made known by means of the circulars above mentioned.

Mr. Brinley Richards contributed two solos: the first, Mendelssohn's Andante and Capriceio; the second, of his own composition, a clever and brilliant fantasia on airs from Lucia di Lammermoor; both were heartily applauded. Signor Sivori, who has not been heard in England for some years, gave La Clochette of Paganini, and his own Tarantella, in a style which drew forth the warmest approbation; while Signor Bottesini, in his marvellous contra-basso solo, on airs from Beatrice di Tenda, evoked a furor, but wisely resisted the attempted encore, contenting himself with bowing his acknowledgments, in which example he was followed by the famous violinist. Mad. Badia displayed great energy in her chansons, "Nenella," and * Vive la belle," and was also recalled. Herr Reichardt, in his own charming and deservedly popular song, "Thou art so near and yet so far," produced a marked sensation, and elicited an encore so unanimous that it could not be resisted, and the Hungarian tenor repeated the last two verses to the delight of all. Mad. Fiorentini's scena from Maria di Rohan, and Herr Engel's harmonium solo, gave much satisfaction; and Mr. Benedict oonducted with his well-known ability.

A Young Enolise Musical Geiuus.—The Impartial de Boulogne tur Mer, of the 29th Dec, contains the following paragraph :—" Several musicians and amateurs of this town nave spoken to us of the very extraordinary talent manifested by a

young child of eleven years of age, Mdlle. Annie C , brought

up in Boulogne, and belonging to an English family. This surprising child is endowed with the sentiment of music to so eminent a degree, that she reads and sings at sight music the most difficult, by whatever master, and of whatever style. She is likewise a pianist of considerable proficiency and power, but it is especially as a singer that she displays exceptional and moat astonishing qualities. We are led to hope that this young artist will be allowed to sing at one of our forthcoming Philharmonic Concerts, for the Denefit of the poor."—{We believe that the young child referred to in the foregoing paragraph is the daughter of a gentleman connected with the London press, who is well known in musical, dramatic, and literary circles.}— Morning Star, January 5.

THE BLIND FIDDLER.

The wind rudely whistles, whilst here I sit alone;

As mocking my misery, in harsh exulting tone,

But, though friendless and poor, and none to care for me,

Rude Boreas shall hear, I still can happy be.

Through the crannies of my hovel, he sports with my rags,

And laughs down the chimney, with voice like some old hag's;

Let him laugh, let him howl, 'tis nothing unto me;

My fiddle and my bow shall bid him blush and fiee!

No fire is in my grate, no firing in my store;
Nor had I so much food, but I could have taken more:
So I'll warm and fill my soul—this, this must do for me—
Come, old fiddle, you and I will sing right merrily!

Like you, I cannot see; like you, my soul has wings;

And both by musio too are blest, deep down in our heart's strings:

Full many a weary mile, companion—alt, to me

And poor, lamented Tray; old fiddle, loved are ye!

We're sang by many a hill-aide, in summer's burning heat;
And many a sordid spirit stirred within the busy street:
We've faced cold frost and snow,—in ail still true to me,
Old riddle, thou hast ever been: few couples so agree!

Thy waitings and thy sorrows, thy griefs, thy every joy,
Hare all been mine, since when I was a poor blind boy:
Without thee had this world been a desert blank to me—
Kind Providence well mated us in happy unity.

Bememb'rest thou the old churohyard, the cypress trees that wave,
Beneath which we a requiem sad sang o'er my mother's grave,
Ere morning dawned, and ere the sun, which gives no light to me,
Illum'd the west—'tis said, old friend—in glorious majesty?

Oh! when shall I go where she is? and Bhall I see the light?
Oh, call me, mother, up to thee, from this long, dreary night!
Yet, old companion, oh, that vou could go along with me,
And share my joy j for, in my woe, no friend could truer be!

Then, whistle on, rude Boreas! whilst I sit here alone;

Myself and fiddle will, for that, ring out a merry tone:

Though friendless too and poor I am, there's One who cares for me;

He'll call me to my mother yet, and give me eyes to see!

PKOVINCIAL. Manchester.—It is not often, says the Manchester Guardian, at least in the provinces, that such a constellation of vocal talent as that formed by Mad. Catherine Hayes, Mad. Louisa Vinning, Miss Fanny Huddart, Mr. Sims Beeves, and Mr. Santley, makes its appearance, and therefore the large attendance at the Freetrade Hall, on New Year's Eve, was a thing safely to be calculated on in this music-loving city of Manchester, especially as the programme was lengthy, miscellaneous, and popular. No tax was laid on the imaginative powers of the audience, who had only to listen and enjoy. The tax was rather upon the artists, for, from the commencement of the concert, a system of encoring began on the part of a small section of the audience, unjust towards the artists themselves, and most offensive to the great bulk of the audience. It might have been thought that a programme consisting of no less than nineteen pieces was sufficient to satisfy even a musical gourmand; not so on this occasion. The tax seemed to press most heavily upon Mr. Sims Beeves. He was set down for three songs, but the unruly section alluded to had determined that these three should be six at least, and not repetitions, but different songs. Mr. Beeves, to his honour be it recorded, did what on a recent occasion he did in London, he made a dead stand against this un-English and tyrannical attempt at coercion. Twice he acknowledged, by a bow, the applause that followed his " Come into the garden, Maud," but resolutely declined either repeating it, or substituting anything else. When he again appeared to sing Dibdin's song of " Tom Bowling." he was greeted with groans and other marks of disapprobation. He had, however, taken up his position, and announced respectfully, but firmly, that when silence was restored, but not till then, he would commence his song. Honour to Mr. Beeves; his is the true English courage, and not the bullying demand for six things when three only have been paid paid for. Facts like these point to the necessity of abolishing the absurd system of encoring altogether. If Mr. Beeves himself will on all occasions do what he did on Saturday evening, and if public artists will always exhibit the same courage, the thing is done. Let us now briefly return to the performances themselves. In the "Irish Mother's Lament," Mad. Catherine Hayes was magnificent; her "Auld Bobin Gray" was almost as good; but the beauty both of Moore's melody, " The harp that once through Tara's halls," and "Home, sweet home," was damaged by a dragging of the time for which there does not appear to us any justification. The happy criticism of Dr. Johnson's style by Goldsmith, that the great lexicographer made the h'ttle fishes into great whales, might not inaptly be applied to Mad. Hayes. Mad. Vinning's best effort was Bishop's song "The ray of hope," with accompaniment on the clarinet by Mr. Lazarus, which was beautifully suug and beautifully accompanied. Miss Huddart had her usual success in 'Hullah's "Three Fishers." Not in any way behind the other vooal per

formances were Mr. Santley's-. rendering of Mr. Brinley Bichards' characteristic "Suliote War Song," and the romance from Meyerbeer's Dinorah, "Ah, now 1 feel the burthen," both of which exhibited vigour of conception as well as artistic vocalisation. These pieces ore, of course, smaller things than the bass songs of the Messiah, which he sung so finely on a recent occasion; but they, too, exhibited, in a marked degree, the stride Mr. Santley has made in his profession. A pianoforte solo, by Mr. Osborne Williams, and two clarionet solos by Mr. Lazarus, agreeably relieved the vocal programme.

Birmingham(From a Correspondent).—The concert given by Mr. Glydon, at our Town Hall, on Thursday evening, brought a crowded audience. Rossini's "L' usato ardir," by Mad. Louisa Vinning, Miss Fanny Huddart, and Mr. Santley, was followed by Brinley Bichards' spirited "Suliote War song," given in a manner by Mr. Santley that fully confirmed the favourable reports of the metropolitan press. Mr. Santley's rendering of the romance from Dinorah was also excellent. Miss Fanny Huddart, by the pathos she threw into Hullah's "Three fishers," obtained an enthusiastic encore. Madame Vinning won a warm encore in "'T'was within a mile of Edinbro'," to which she responded with "Coming through the rye." The clarinet playing of Mr. Lazarus was marked with its usual beauty of tone and refinement of style. The concert would have been in every respect enjoyable, had not the pleasure of the evening been marred by the disgraceful treatment received by Mr. Sims Beeves at the hands of a portion of the audience. The great tenor, on his entrit, was received enthusiastically; and he gave his first song, "Under the greenwood tree," in a manner that called down immense applause, mingled with cries of " Encore" Mr. Beeves returned to the orchestra, and bowed his acknowledgments. Immediately on his retirement a gentleman appeared and addressed the audience, stating that Mr. Sims Beeves begged indulgence towards himself in the matter of encores, as he had only recently recovered from a long and severe illness; that, however willing he might be to comply with their wishes as to repetitions, he must refrain, inasmuch as, if he did not, he felt he should not be able to fulfil his engagements elsewhere on the morrow. Mr. Beeves' second song was "Margaretta," for which he received a redemaud; but, trusting to .'he effect of the apoloi/y which had been made for him, he again merely returned and bowed. Later in the evening, however, on his appearance to sing "Come into the garden, Maud," he was received with applause mingled with loud hisses, and, in two or three instances, with expressions that would have been deemed coarse in a gin-palace. After the symphony had been twice played, Mr. Sims Beeves began his song; but he had not proceeded far when, overcome by his feelings, he fairly broke down, and addressing the audience, inquired why he was to be subjected to such indignities? He stated that he was there to do his duty; he had done it up to that moment, singing everything set down to him to the very best of his abilities; but he frankly confessed, that astonishment at the reception he had just experienced had at once taken away his power of singing altogether. The volley of applause which followed these few words, proved that the bulk of the audience had no sympathy with the assailants, who, we hope and trust, for the character of the musical audience of Birmingham, were strangers to the town, drawn hither by the festive season. Really, it is time that a stop should be put to the nuisance of the continual encore system, a system that has been begotten by the vulgar greed of getting from a great singer six songs instead of three, as bargained for, and fostered by the determination of ill-conditioned gents to enjoy frequently the most trashy works at the expense of the time and patience of those who can appreciate music as an elegant art, and enjoy it with moderation. Encores, under such circumstances, must soon cease to be considered an honour by true artists. Mr. Reeves, like most men who have attained eminence by their own exertions, has been subjected to calumny. Habits and caprices, which we are in a position to know are quite foreign to his nature, have been industriously imputed to him. We sincerely trust that, for the future, he will resolutely refuse to comply with the demands of the encore nuisance, and thus prevent his detractors from filching

fatly M quaint as it U ancient. "Tht Kynge's Balade," thongh!
attributed to Henry VIII.—a famous musician for a king—was
known in the time of Henry VII.; its precise origin, however,
is scarcely worth disputing, its merit being by no means on a
par with the curiosity excited by its reputed authorship. Of all
the compositions introduced in the first part—the imcomparable
madrigal of Festa, and the delicious Elizabethan "Maypole
Song" (the solos in which were delivered carefully, if a little too
slowly, by Miss Wells) excepted—the madrigal of Edwardes,
"In going to my lonely bed, was the most attractive, both as
an example of what sort of music could be written at the very
commencement of the sixteenth century, and as a model of
lyrical expression. Such words, it is true, might have inspired
a contemplative musician in an age when music was still young:
"In going to my lonely bed

A* one that would hate slept,
I he ard s wife sing to her child
That long had ssoan'd and wept.

Hhe sighed tore, and sang fall sweet,

To luil the baba to rest,
That would not cease, bat cried still

Upon its mother's breast.

Bbe was full weary of her watch,

And grieved with her child;
Die rocked it, and rated it,

Till (hat on her it smiled.

Then did »he say, 'Now hare I found

This prOTerb true to prote,
The falling out of faithful friends

Renewing is of lore.*"

All the above pieces were sung in a very efficient manner, more especially the madrigals, which, nevertheless, we are accustomed to hear with a large number of voices to each part—certainly a more effective if not a more legitimate method. (It should be mentioned that the London Glee and Madrigal Union includes two ladies, Miss J. Wells and Miss Eyles, and four gentlemen, Messrs. Baxter, Cummings, Lawler, and Land, who are employed, according to the number of voices which the various compositions may call into request.) In the second part, familiar (too familiar I) glees of Webbe, Horaley, and Bishop, and Webbe'a excellent catch, "Would you know my Celia's eharms "—in which, notwithstanding her "fortit(y)-tvi<le," and her "thirty lovers," the age of Madame Olia, the tender point of the argument, is shown to be "fifty-five"—were hit off to perfection. The solo ballads, too, were remarkable, and above all, "Barbara Allen "—to the English (and as Mr. Chappell truly says, the best) melody, although Mr. Oliphant's compression of the Scotch words was used. This was sung with exquisite feeling by Miss Eyles, who imparted both to the poetry and the music the true and genuine expression, the audience being so pleased that they called upon her to repeat it. Miss Eyles was no less successful in "Weel may the keel row ;" while Mr. Lawler, in Mr. Oxenford's capital song to the old tune of "Three merry men of Kent" May he who wears a sulky face ") evinced the right kind of spirit. Encores were also awarded to Bishop's glee "The Fisherman's good night," and to the merry catch already cited, the salient points in which were "caught up" with infinite zest and humour by Messrs. Baxter, Cummings, Land, and Lawler, the usual hilarity being provoked at Celia's expense. Altogether the entertainment was first-rate of its class, and worthy the growing reputation of the "London Glee and Madrigal Union."

St. James's Hall.—Mr. Brinley Biehards' "New Year's Concert" (so-called) on the 2nd instant, partook largely of the character formerly denominated " popular," ere that term had become associated with those Monday evening gatherings now familiar to every lover of good music. Not that we would thereby infer that the selection was by any means tin-popular, as the crowded state of the room and warm applause frequently toatified that a largo section of the public can be delighted with a programme made up almost exclusively of light materials. The same of the binfpeiaire is of itself sufficiently popular to

I bring many of Mr. Brinley Biehards' admirers, while the an

[ nouncement of Miss Balfe, Meadames Badia aud Fiorentini, Herr Bernhardt, Signors Sivori and Bottesini, would add considerably to the attraction. The audience, however, were doomed to be disappointed of the first-named lady, for reasons which were extensively circulated all over the room by means of a printed statement, with copies of the correspondence between Mr. Willert Beale and Mr. Balfe. Mad. Corbari (who will be remembered at the Italian Opera) supplied the place of the absentee, but was prevented from doing herself foil justice by the fatigue under which she was evidently suffering, consequent upon a long journey, and to which allusion was made in an apology delivered by a gentleman evidently * unaccustomed to public speaking," and which only provoked a general titter. The " tempestuous" speech was, moreover, quite unnecessary, as the facts had already been made known by means of the circulars above mentioned.

Mi. Brinley Richards contributed two solos: the first, Mendelssohn's Andante and Caprieeio; the second, of his own composition, a clever and brilliant fantasia on airs from Lucia di Lammermoor; both were heartily applauded. Signor Sivori, who has not been heard in England for some years, gave La Clochette of Paganini, and his own Tarantella, in a style which drew forth the warmest approbation; while Signor Bottesini, in his marvellous contra-basso solo, on airs from Beatrice di Tenda, evoked a furor, but wisely resisted the attempted encore, contenting himself with bowing his acknowledgments, in which example he was followed by the famous violinist. Mad. Badia displayed great energy in her chansons, "Nenella," and * Vive la belle," and was also recalled. Herr Beichardt, in his own charming and deservedly popular song, "Thou art so near and yet so far," produced a marked sensation, and elicited an encore so unanimous that it could not be resisted, and the Hungarian teuor repeated the last two verses to the delight of all. Mad. Fiorentini's tcena from Maria di Rohan, and Herr Engel's harmonium solo, gave much satisfaction; and Mr. Benedict conducted with his well-known ability.

A Young English Musical Genius.—The Impartial de Boulogne tur Mer, of the 29th Dec, contains the following paragraph :—" Several musicians and amateurs of this town nave spoken to us of the very extraordinary talent manifested by a

young child of eleven years of age, Mdlle. Annie C , brought

up in Boulogne, and belonging to an English family. This surprising child is endowed with the sentiment of music to so eminent a degree, that she reads and sings at sight music the most difficult, by whatever master, and of whatever style. She is likewise a pianist of considerable proficiency and power, but it is especially as a singer that she displays exceptional and most astonishing qualities. We are led to hope that this young artist will be allowed to sing at one of our forthcoming Philharmonic Concerts, for the benefit of the poor."—[We believe that the young child referred to in the foregoing paragraph is the daughter of a gentleman connected with the London press, who is well known in musical, dramatic, and literary circles.]— Morning <SW, January 6.

THE BLIND FIDDLER.

The wind rudely whistles, whilst here I sit alone;

Aa mocking my misery, in harsh exulting tone,

But, though friendless and poor, and none to care for me,

Bude Boreas shall hear, I still can happy be.

Through the crannies of my hovel, he sports with my rags,

And laugha down the ohimney, with voice like some old hag's;

Let him laugh, let him howl, 'tis nothing unto me;

My fiddle and my bow shall bid him blush and flee!

So fire is in my grate, no firing in my store; J
Nor had I so much food, but I could hare taken more:
So I'll warm and fill my soul—this, this must do for me—
Come, old fiddle, you and I will sing right merrily!

Like you, I cannot see; like you, my soul has wings;

And both by musio too are blest, deep down in our heart's strings:

Full many a weary mile, companion—all, to me

And poor, lamented Tray; old fiddle, loved are ye!

We're sang by many a hill-side, in summer's burning heat;
And many a sordid spirit stirred within the busy street:
We've faced cold frost and snow,—in all still true to me,
Old fiddle, thou hast ever been: few couples so agree!

Thy wailings and thy sorrows, thy griefs, thy every joy,
Have all been mine, since when 1 was a poor blind boy:
Without thee had this world been a desert blank to me—
Kind Providence well mated us in happy unity.

Kememb'rest thou the old churchyard, the cypress trees that wave,
Beneath which we a requiem sad sang o'er my mother's grave.
Ere morning dawned, and ere the sun, which gives no light to me,
Illum'd the west—'tis said, old friend—in glorious majesty?

Oh! when shall I go where she is? and shall I see the light?
Oh, call me, mother, up to thee, from this long, dreary night!
Yet, old companion, oh, that you could go along with me,
And share my joy; for, in my woe, no friend could truer be!

Then, whistle on, rude Boreas! whilst I sit here alooe;

Myself and fiddle will, for that, ring out a merry tone:

Though friendless too and poor I am, there's One who cares for mej

He'll call me to my mother yet, and give me eyes to see!

PROVINCIAL. Manchester.—It is not often, says the Manchester Guardian, at least in the provinces, that such a constellation of vocal talent as that formed by Mad. Catherine Hayes, Mad. Louisa Vinning, Miss Fanny Huddart, Mr. Sims Beeves, and Mr. Santley, makes its appearance, and therefore the large attendance at the Freetrade Hall, on New Year's Eve, was a thing safely to be calculated on in this music-loving city of Manchester, especially as the programme was lengthy, miscellaneous, and popular. No tax was laid on the imaginative powers of the audience, who had only to listen and enjoy. The tax was rather upon the artists, for, from the commencement of the concert, a system of encoring began on the part of a small section of the audience, unjust towards the artists themselves, and most offensive to the great bulk of the audience. It might have been thought that a programme consisting of no less than nineteen pieces was sufficient to satisfy even a musical gourmand; not so on this occasion. The tax seemed to press most heavily upon Mr. Sims Beeves. He was set down for three songs, but the unruly section alluded to had determined that these three should be six at least, and not repetitions, but different songs. Mr. Beeves, to his honour be it recorded, did what on a recent occasion he did in London, he made a dead stand against this un-English and tyrannical attempt at coercion. Twice he acknowledged, by a bow, the applause that followed his " Come into the garden, Maud," but resolutely declined either repeating it, or substituting anything else. When he again appeared to sing Dibdin's song of " Tom Bowling." he was greeted with groans and other marks of disapprobation. He had, however, taken up his position, and announced respectfully, but firmly, that when silence was restored, but not till then, he would commence his song. Honour to Mr. Beeves; his is the true English courage, and not the bullying demand for six things when three only have been paid paid for. Facts like these point to the necessity of abolishing the absurd system of encoring altogether. If Mr. Beeves himself will on all occasions do what he did on Saturday evening, and if public artists will always exhibit the same courage, the thing is done. Let us now briefly return to the performances themselves. In the "Irish Mother's Lament," Mad. Catherine Hayes was magnificent; her " Auld Bobin Gray" was almost as good; but the beauty both of Moore's melody, " The harp that once through Tara's halls," and "Home, sweet home," was damaged by a dragging of the time for which there does not appear to us any justification. The happy criticism of Dr. Johnson's style by Goldsmith, that the great lexicographer made the little fishes into great whales, might not inaptly be applied to Mad. Hayes. Mad. Vinnlng's best effort was Bishop's song "The ray of hope," with accompaniment on the clarinet by Mr. Lazarus, which was beautifully sung and beautifully accompanied. Miss Huddart had her usual success in Hullah's ■ Three Fishers." Not in any way behind the other vocal per

formances were Mr. Santley'*. rendering of Mr. Brinley Bichards'characteristic " Suliote War Song," and the romance from Meyerbeer's Dinorah, "Ah, now I feel the burthen," both of which exhibited vigour of conception as well as artistic vocalisation. These pieces are, of course, smaller things than the bass songs of the Messiah, which he sung so finely on a recent occasion; but they, too, exhibited, in a marked degree, the stride Mr. Santley has made in his profession. A pianoforte solo, by Mr. Osborne Williams, and two clarionet solos by Mr. Lazarus, agreeably relieved the vocal programme.

Birmingham(From a Correspondent)..—The concert given by Mr. Glydon, at our Town Hall, on Thursday eveniug, brought a crowded audience. Rossini's "L usato ardir," by Mad. Louisa Vinning, Miss Fanny Huddart, and Mr. Santley, was followed by Brinley Bichards' spirited "Suliote War song," given in a manner by Mr. Santley that fully confirmed the favourable reports of the metropolitan press. Mr. Santley's rendering of the romance from Dinorah was also excellent. Miss Fanny Huddart, by the pathos she threw into Hullah's "Three fishers," obtained an enthusiastic encore. Madame Yinning won a warm encore in "'T'was within a mile of Edinbro'," to which she responded with "Coming through the rye." The clarinet playing of Mr. Lazarus was marked with its usual beauty of tone and refinement of style. The concert would have been in every respect enjoyable, had not the pleasure of the evening been marred by the disgraceful treatment received by Mr. Sims Beeves at the hands of a portion of the audience. The great tenor, on his enlrei, was received enthusiastically; and he gave his first song, "Under the greenwood tree," in a manner that called down immense applause, mingled with cries of" Encore" Mr. Beeves returned to the orchestra, and bowed his acknowledgments. Immediately on his retirement a gentleman appeared and addressed the audience, stating that Mr. Sims Beeves begged indulgence towards himself in the matter of encores, as he had only recently recovered from a loDg and severe illness; that, however willing he might be to comply with their wishes as to repetitions, he must refraiu, inasmuch as, if he did not, he felt he should not be able to fulfil his engagements elsewhere on the morrow. Mr. Beeves' second song was "Margaretta," for which he received a redemaud; but, trusting to .'lie effect of the apology which had been made for him, he again merely returned and bowed, later in the evening, however, on his appearance to sing "Come into the garden, Maud," he was received with applause mingled with loud hisses, and, in two or three instances, with expressions that would have been deemed coarse in a gin-palace. After the symphony had been twice played, Mr. Sims Beeves began his song; but he had not proceeded far when, overcome by his feelings, he fairly broke down, and addressing the audience, inquired why he was to be subjected to Buch indignities 1 He stated that he was there to do his duty; he had done it up to that moment, singing everything set down to him to the very best of his abilities; but he frankly confessed, that astonishment at the reception he had just experienced had at once taken away his power of singing altogether. The volley of applause which followed these few words, proved that the bulk of the audience had no sympathy with the assailants, who, we hope and trust, for the character of the musical audience of Birmingham, were strangers to the town, drawn hither by the festive season. Really, it is time that a stop should be put to the nuisance of the continual encore system, a system that has been begotten by the vulgar greed of getting from a great singer six songs instead of three, as bargained for, and fostered by the determination of ill-conditioned gents to enjoy frequently the most trashy works at the expense of the time and patience of those who can appreciate music as an elegant art, and enjoy it with moderation. Encores, under such circumstances, must soon cease to be considered an honour by true artists. Mr. Beeves, like most men who have attained eminence by their own exertions, has been subjected to calumny. Habits and caprices, which we are in a position to know are quite foreign to his nature, have been industriously imputed to him. We sincerely trust that, for the future, he will resolutely refuse to comply with the demands of the encore nuisance, and thus prevent his detractors from filching

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