with the grand bass notes, is highly appropriate; but the tumult soon increases to the climax, when the chorus falls back to the original subject in the minor, at the words, "Woe, woe to those who strive to light and in this style the chorus ends. The casting is now found to be successful, and the master's first thought is of Providence: "God has given us joy to night;" and the composer continues a quiet and serene andante in the same key of B flat. But the joy for success soon breaks forth in a triumphant strain in D major, when he calls the workmen to the ceremony of giving a name to the bell, which he christens "Concordia;" and adds, in a choral-like strain, "Most meet to express th' harmonious sound, That calls to those in friendship bound ;"* which is repeated by the rest in chorus. The master follows with a train of serious reflections on the destiny and usefulness of his work. This is a difficult piece to sing, especially where the key modulates into B flat; and, considering its difficulty, it is hardly effective enough. Both the conductor and the singer must take care to keep the time in the proper weight of movement, for any hurrying would appear too light for the subject. The arrangement of the words to the music, at the beginning of each strain, in the work as published here, is very awkward. Instead of bringing three quavers on the word "high," and one on each syllable of "over," one quaver should be given to "high," and two each to the syllables of "over;" and the same with "Near to the.' This is according to the original. The master then gives his last commands, which are for raising the bell from the pit in which it was cast; and the music is a fine accompaniment to the text, the tones rising and swelling, till the bell appears above ground. The concluding chorus follows immediately; short, but most expressive: The contrast here is beautiful: joy breaks forth in bold steps of thirds through the whole octave, forte; while peace steps gently, smoothly and lightly along, piano; grows still softer in the repetition; and finally dies away, pianissimo, in the breath of its own name. We reluctantly disturb this delightful impression by any further remarks; but we must add, that it is particularly important, in the performance of this chorus, to guard against hurrying, as this destroys its effect. The course should be the reverse; as the strain grows more piano, it should also grow slower to the end. If we now cast a retrospective glance over the whole work, we shall perceive that the poet, with great art and beauty, has interwoven the bell with the whole history of man's existence. We shall also see that the composer has thoroughly studied his poem, and given it all that kind of dramatic effect which was necessary to its proper interest. He has nowhere sought for mere effect, but has confined himself to a simple and genuine expression of the text; has shown himself fertile in melody, and master of the art of composition. The more frequently and the more attentively the work is listened to, the more fully will its beauties shine forth, and the greater satisfaction will it afford. It is also well worthy of the careful examination of the student of music, as a genuine work of art. The translation is defective here. The original alludes to the worship at church: a literal translation is thus"To concord to most hearty union, She calls the loving congregation." THE MOST SUITABLE AGE TO BEGIN INSTRUCTION IN SINGING. SINGING forms the foundation of all musical education. All its other branches are nothing but imitations of singing. Each instrument sings in its own manner, in richer or more limited strains, in stronger or weaker tones; and in the character and equality of tone which the mechanism of the instrument allows. The difficulty of becoming entirely familiar with this mechanism requires undivided attention; therefore the general theory of music, the grammar of this art, must precede its particular instruction. : How can this be done better than when instruction in singing and theory go hand in hand? The fundamental rules of music keep pace with the gradually increasing flexibility of the voice in learning to sing the correct notes, the pupil also learns the reading of the notes, the divisions of time, a knowledge of the different scales and keys, tone, accent, syncope, the doctrine of the chords, &c., all of which must be a necessary preparation for instrumental instruction, and whoever has laid this foundation will easier learn the mechanism of an instrument. The more easily to surmount the physical difficulties, is not alone the reason why we would make instruction in singing the foundation of all musical education: its influence must extend also to the pupil's intellect to his whole internal being: its effect must be more than momentary; it must be lasting and operative for the whole future life. We observe in fact, that in singing, there is created-besides the cultivation of the enunciation, besides the flexibility and refinement of the voice, and besides the education of the ear-a feeling for time, which is unconsciously engrafted upon the whole nature of the singer, and indelibly engraven upon his soul. Instrumental virtuosos have seldom or never such a nice, tender, instinctive sense of time and rhythm, on whatever instrument they may perform, as those who have first been singers, and have begun all musical instruction with singing. But this object is not always reached in lessons in singing; for there are innumerable singers, of every degree of perfection, that have no distinct sense of time. Private instruction is never particularly adapted for this purpose; and we therefore unhesitatingly give the preference to general instruction, or instruction in schools. The difference of character and temperament is blended in the whole mass; the idle is carried away by it, and the ardent is checked in his too hasty career. Emulation, and that desire of imitating which is so instinctive in man, are great assistants to the teacher in instruction in singing. The stronger pupils excite the weaker; and not only is attention thus kept alive, but one pupil becomes the teacher of another. But even this general instruction will only half fulfil its object if it does not begin at an age when the organs of voice and hearing are not yet hardened, and the senses not yet locked up to new impressions; but when, being yet tender and flexible, they give way to each new impression. For this purpose, the years of childhood are not only the best, but the only suitable ones. The whole mechanical formation of the voice must precede the time of its breaking-its change. This remarkable period, which marks the entrance into the age of youth from that of childhood, has an immense influence on the formation of the voice. So far male and female voices stand on the same scale as to pitch. But as the body is developed, new and unknown feelings develop themselves in the soul; a new nature is awakened; the sexes separate; their voices are different from each other, and so is their language. This is particularly observable with boys. The high tones of the child's voice vanish or sink gradually an octave lower; and the soprano or alto voice of the boy is changed into the lower tenor or bass voice of the man. This time of changing lasts for a longer or shorter period, in proportion as the internal revolutions of nature are furthered or obstructed by temperament or external excitements. The boy loses in height one tone after another; the higher tones often vanish before the lower ones are formed; he almost loses voice and language; it often requires months -frequently weeks only are sufficient-and sometimes accidental external ex citements suddenly effect this change of nature in a few days, nay, even in one night. The female voice retains its high tones; and the change is less apparent, but not the less violent. All opinions of the future formation before this time are mere conjectures; for a high voice is often transformed into a low one by this change, and a low voice into a high one; nay, the common, unpromising voice of the child often changes into a full, round voice, full of mettle, and with peculiar charms; while a beautiful voice often becomes a poor one, or is lost altogether. Generally, however, the female voice gains in power and charm, in roundness and fulness, and becomes, by addition in the higher or lower tones, of a decided character as a soprano or alto voice. To teachers and pupils this period is of particular importance; and the more so, since the way of living, as well as the singing itself, has a material influence on the change of the voice. To sing much, and still more to force the tones through the organs of the voice, which are at that time weak and inflexible, is particularly dangerous to the voice that is to be formed. By too great exertions during this period, the best capacities for a fine voice are often destroyed for the whole life: for singing during this time has an injurious influence on the health, and often causes evils of the chest. But the voice being formed at this time, and established for the whole lifetime, assuming a decided character, it is necessary that the whole mechanical instruction should precede this time. It has been generally acknowledged and proved by the most exact examinations of physicians, and experience of teachers and parents, that singing in the years of childhood is not detrimental, but rather promotes the development of the chest, the strengthening of the lungs, and the cultivation of all the organs of the voice; the time to begin the instruction is self-evident. It is even quite suitable to begin it, in schools particularly, in the most tender age; for the children may participate in it playfully, and need not necessarily join in the singing constantly, and exert themselves beyond their strength, as is often the case in private instruction. There is no other kind of instruction that has so deep and effective influence on the future cultivation; often even without individual consciousness and it is surprising to see how, by such an unconscious joining in the singing, the ear of the children appears to become refined, how the sense of rhythm is sharpened, and how pliant the voice appears in hitting melodic intervals when a more thorough instruction begins. : DESCRIPTION OF THE FUNERAL MARCH IN BEETHOVEN'S HEROIC SYMPHONY. THE instruments chosen by Beethoven for this sublime composition are two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, three horns, two bassoons, drums, and the quartet of stringed instruments. It begins abruptly with a fine melody of deep and concentrated grief, which is given pp. by the quartet; this is repeated by the oboe alone, sustained by the clarinets, horns, and bassoons, in holding notes, and by a blow on the drums at the commencement of each measure that fills the soul with terror, whilst the quartet executes another passage that sets off the principal melody and gives it more movement, but increases the gloom. Then, again, at the seventeenth measure the quartet alone gives a new melody which has not the dark harshness of the first, but rather a mournful expression, with a faint glimmering of a ray of hope. At the fifth measure, the horns begin in C, appearing like a voice from heaven to confirm a wavering faith in a better world to come! but no, this is dissipated by the appearance of the fearful drums pp. at the seventh measure; at the ninth the bassoons, in doleful accents, prepare for the primitive melody, and the violoncello then leads to its repetition in the fifth below F minor, one of the most plaintive and moving keys. Beethoven, after having worked all this part admirably, terminates it in C minor; then quite simply, and by that means with prodigious effect, he modulates into C major: when this strikes our ears we imagine we see heaven open,-- let us listen to that consoling melody which the flute and oboe take alternately; the chest expands and we breathe more freely-we hope-the horns however soon overturn the cup which contains the balm of our consolation, and all is changed. At the third measure, what a hateful harmony-what restlessness and vague suffering is produced by those prolonged notes! the first and second violins accompany in triplets; this means nothing, but the basses with the tenors come in by a passage in imitation, to help to darken our sunshine of joy by an ingenious and ironical sceptism, producing a feeling of doubt, equal at least to overbalance the hope raised by the oboe and flute. After a forte by all the orchestra, a simple and touching melody enters with the violins; at this time the grief increases and appears most overpowering, followed by tears, expressed by the broken accents of the flute and violins. In listening to what follows in the quartet and wind instruments, we may imagine they answer each other in sighs and groans, and that we perceive at intervals a ray of consolation in the part of the clarinet, which disappears only to re-appear, but at last it remains—we are not mistaken-it increases-it extends-it dries up the tears--we become possessed by new feelings—we believe that the door which leads to salvation is not closed! With what power every one attaches himself to this blessed thought, like the wrecked sailors to the broken rigging of their vessel; this is admirably expressed by the fortissimo of all the instruments-but this relief is shortlisten! Is all silent? No-not all: the quartet holds the note C in unison, to preserve them to throw out a signal of distress. Wretched men! we behold them struggling in the vain hope of reaching the port-the waves have but sported with them to paint to their souls the power of Him about whom they have, had all these fluctuations of hopes and fears! Here the quartet, by a solemn melody which descends as to the unknown depths, returns to that terrible passage in C minor with which the march begins. What an admirable conclusion!--all is now ended-nothing remains! nothing but the frozen voice of the opening melody which now appears still more bitter and cruelly scornful-the heart is withered the eyes can shed no tears-it expresses a sorrow without remedy or even alleviation-no internal suffering can go beyond this, except the tortures of hell! In this sublime composition nothing could be improved, nothing better felt or more truly coloured-every instrument speaks, sighs, hopes, and weeps-every melody is beautifully expressive, and may with every instrumental combination be translated into words and phrases. All this effect is produced without the assistance of the big drum, the gong, or any of the material means that so many other composers introduce. THE ADAGIO. ANY piece of music that lays claim to the merit, or even the name of a work of art, must present to the external organs of perception an internal state or feeling; and so too each separate part of it, which forms an independent whole by itself, must express a particular internal state, particular emotions excited in the interior of man. Music depicts chiefly emotions of the soul. The human soul is so constituted, that feelings of a sweet, tender, or sad kind love to dwell on their subject. Everything that stands in any connection with them, even the opposite feelings, they like to bring into relation; and therefore the modification of the feelings in these cases proceeds but slow and hesitatingly, and the transition through its associations advances with caution. The adagio, therefore, in regard to time, is the very form in which to express these feelings; it being a slow movement, even slower than "lento." The nature of the feelings thus described, as expressed by the adagio, demands, as well for the composer as the performer, certain rules by which both must be guided, or they will miss their object, viz., the impression which they intend. The adagio serves for the expression of tender and sad feelings their emotions being of a slower tendency: they go, therefore, much more cautiously, and with much more measured rhythm through the whole circle of their associations; and for this reason there must be no flourish, no elaborate embellishments in the adagio; it must be kept as simple as possible; but every tone must have its full weight; for each represents a new step in the emotion of the feelings. All the feelings, the language of which is slow and considerate, are also touching. The composer of an adagio has therefore to work more for the heart than for the imagination. Elaborate and artful figures will not therefore suit; for the more the heart is touched, the less active is wit. The harmonization requires the greatest care; for the different degrees of the emotions intended to be represented are expressed by it; and it is therefore necessary that the succession of the harmony should always progress, if possible, in an equally graduated affinity, without any digression or inversion. The relations also, of these emotions, are, as we have observed before, sometimes directed to their contrast; but never immediately or suddenly, and therefore all showy cadenzas and such as are unexpected or not sufficiently prepared, as well as too bold modulations, must be carefully avoided in the adagio. This contrast meets its most faithful and most touching representation rather in enharmonic changes of the key; but these also must not occur too often. Above all it is advisable not too make this movement too long; for having always and throughout an impassioned expression, it will soon tire the listener. Some composers like to protract it, and draw a happy thought out to such a length that at last nothing is left. This is decidedly wrong. The same thought ought only to be repeated after everything that is connected with it has been expressed; and then it is time to conclude the adagio. One moment of ennui spoils the effect of the whole piece. : Not less difficult than the composition of an adagio is its execution: partly because, from the slowness of the time, the smallest fault, and the least tone that is not correspondent with the feeling that is represented by it, will be easily detected; and partly because it very easily assumes, from the want of variety in the means of representation, a certain very tiresome and disagreeable dullness, if the whole is not enlivened by an execution full of power and expression. But this life must not consist of embellishments, mannerisms, &c., which are for the same reasons to be avoided in the execution as in the composition: but it must be effected by a correct and well-studied accentuation. Embellishments and variations in the melody are altogether inadmissible but the nicest shades of softness and force of tone (piano and forte), and the tones well connected and bound together withal, corresponding to the close connection and transition of the different feelings to be expressed—these are the means that must be applied. But we are sure that all the rules we can give, and the most careful instruction, will not enable any body to play an adagio well, unless he be capable of entering into the spirit and soul of the composer, and particularly of putting himself into a state of sweet and tender susceptibility; thus making the feeling, which the music is to express, his own. The adagio may therefore well be called the touchstone of the taste, the imagination, and the musical education of a virtuoso: but, alas! how few will stand the test. It requires a great deal of experience, a wellcultivated mind, and a heart susceptible of delicate feelings. Any other kind of composition may, without these qualities, be executed to admiration; but an adagio will fail where they are wanting. We will conclude this article with a remark of Baumbach in his "Manual of the Fine Arts." He says "That a good execution of an adagio requires many talents and qualities is very evident from the scarcity of virtuosos that excel in it. The task of the virtuoso is, by simple tones, to represent the intention, the feeling of the composer; but in order to give effect to simple tones, their cultivation requires a long and assiduous study, and their qualities must be, firmness, the linking of the sounds, flexibility, and equality. Master compositions of this style of music are, the adagios in Mozart's Symphonies, in Lafont's Violin Concerts, and in some of Mozart's operas, &c. Master performers of them are mostly found among the virtuosos on stringed instruments; which, from their power of expression, and nice gradation in the shades of piano and forte, are best formed for the execution of an adagio. We mention, among the violin virtuosos, Viotti and A. Romberg, in their time; and |