The Fantasi for piano and violin, op. 159, by Schubert, is a very brilliant and difficult work, the greater part of which is dedicated to variations on the melody of Schubert's charming song, “Sei mir ge gas." The piece is exceedingly rich in color and melodious traits, and the in aginative powers of the gifted author shine in it in all their usual luster. The rendering, on the part of Messrs. Mason and Thomas, was spirited and very successful.

(FOR THE MUSICAL REVIEW AND WORLD)

A FANTASIE ON THE PIANO-FORTE. For the special delectation of its admirers.

BY AUGUSTA BROWNE GARRETT.

"If music be the food of love, play on." (Concluded.)

Sleep on, then, dear old playmate and in thy well-earned repose, ruminate on the beauties of Pleyel, Mozart, Hayd, Handel, Weber, and the host of worthies, to the outpourings of whose thrilling and joyous inspirations thou didst so willingly minister in thy palmy days. It is true, we may never-thou and I-may never again meet during this mundane journey, to enjoy converse sweet; but ever must thy memory, my early joy! be dear to me, till I claim my birthright in the dust, to which element both thou and I must alike ultimately crumble! In that charming novel, "The Caxtons," how touchingly Bulwer alludes to an old family feeling. "There, (says he) in one corner, stood the little cottage piano, which I remembered all my life-old-fashioned, and with the piping voice of approaching decrepitude, but still associated with such melodies as, after childhood, we never hear more!”

The piano is the most domestic of all instruments.

Mine stands to me almost in the place of a human friend. On it the loving mother discourses precious recreation to the souls of her children; on it the solitaire dreams away his grief and ennui; and many a pretty love-plot has been concocted, and many a passionate drama enacted, under the friendly disguise of its voice. A confidant hath it been of many a whispered secret. Amid the hubbub of some noisy Romanza of ten or eleven sharps, Adolphus and Araminta exchange honeyed vows, and highly flavored sentiments, entirely unsuspected by Diogenes and Zantippe, vho doze in imperturbed placidity on the sofa, unconscia us that every time that vastly civil youth turns over a leaf, he seizes the opportunity of pressing the maiden's hand,—an event which he duly chronicles by a high-pressure sigh, and she by a couple of crashing orpeggi, which speak well for the power of her muscles. The amount of mischief to which, during the execution of duets, the virtuous piano has been privy, is immense-they are so suggestive, you know, of the duet of matrimonial felicity. Adolphus and Araminta are wonderfully fond of one in which the lover does the bass part, consisting of two chords, which he renders with a stunning emphasis, the more observable when, as they are prone to do, they come in at the wrong time.

On the piano, the vehement man thrashes away his exuberance of spirits, and puts to nimble flight the Powers of Evil; for do not we all know that the d- hates music! that not a single son of harmony is permitted to dwell in the infernal regions? Perhaps some scoffer may shrug the shoulder at this assertion. The skepticism of such I scorn to controvert; but, for the benefit of any guileless youngling who may not, perchance, have given the subject due consideration, I will relate a story from a veracious tome entitled "St. Patrick's Purgatory," after the perusal of which, if any remain so devoid of understanding as to question its truth, him I leave to the qualms of his own conscience.

It seems so runs the tale-that at the instant of its dismissal from the body, a fiend scized the soul of an unhappy jongleur, or minstrel, tossed it over his shoulder, as a miller might a sack of corn, and, in com-. pany with a host of other soul-hunting demons, who were respectively laden with champions, priests, thieves, monks, bishops, assassins, abbots, knights, and divers other grievous sinners, hasted home to the subter

ranean dominions of their common master, Lucifer. But the story tells best in the origina! words of the pious historian: "When the demon who carried the minstrel Laid down his burthe. at the foot of Lucifer, the ruler of the shades questioned the latter on his past character. He was, he said, a poor min trel; he was thankful for the shelter he had given him in his own dominions, and, as the only means he had of showing his gratitude, he would sing him a song. Lucifer declined the minstrel's offer, but, in pity for his forlorn appearance, gave him employment to blow the fire under one of his cauldrons.

"It happened one day that the evil ones were all assembled together. They issued from hell to conquer the souls through all the earth. Lucifer left the minstrel to take care of the infernal regions, and promised, if he let no souls escape, to treat him on his return with a fat monk, roasted, or a usure", dressed with hot sauce. But, while the fiends were away, Saint Peter came in disguise, and allured the minstrel to play at dice, who, for lack of money, was so imprudent as to stake the souls which were left under his care. They were all lost, and carried off by St. Peter in triumph. The devils returned, found hell empty, and the fires out, and very unceremoniously sent the minstrel away; but he was generously received by St. Peter. Lucifer, in his wrath, threatened with severe punishment any fiend who should again bring there a minstrel's soul; and thus they ever after escaped the claws of the evil ones." Of all the accomplishments which embellish and purity existence, none exerts on a young man so refining so softening & influence, as playing on the pi no; and while the non-possession of it does not necessarily mark a man a rascal, the pos ession of it assuredly denotes him to be of gentle and cultivated manners. There is a little poem from the German, so full of simple and sweet pathos, that I am tempted here to introduce it, feeling assured that it will be read with pleasure. The author thus prefaces it: While the horses were changing in the hamlet of Klien Derg, I came across an old spinett in a cottage where I had asked for a cup of milk. While harmonizing and thrumming on its time-yellowed keys, a peasant child, who had probably never heard one before, crept into the room, and stood by me with distended eyes, When I ceased playing, he murmured, Die Llocken! die Llocken! (the bells! the bells!) and burst into tears.

"Say, tell me, are those tinkling bells
The chiming of another land?
How sweet the plafative little knells
Come from the moving of our hand.
"Say, are they rung by fairies bright,

While dancing in the frolic round?
Such ones as gem the grass with light,
And spin their gauze-cloth on the ground?

"Or is it a heart-saddening toll

From the chill mansions of the dead, Where hand in hand the spirits stroll, Or melancholy measures tread ?

"I think I hear my mother speak;

She died, come midsummer a year; And Kar', my little brother meek, Seems murmuring just at my ear.

How steadily they gaze at me!

How large and sad their eyes seem now! Bright tear drops on their lashes lie,

And wreaths like moon light on their brow!

"I would I might come to thee, brother; I miss thee from my nightly rest!

I would I might e me to thee, mother, And lay my head upon thy breast!!

"Faintly, more faint they fade away-
Why will they not with me ren.ain?
O, Herr, I pray thee, do not play
Those melancholy bells ag din,"

Piano-fortes have become an important branch of commerce, and sev eral countries contend for the palm of superiority in their manufac

ture. Germany, the Vaterland of the people, with whose demise that of wisdom is expected to be coeval, assumes high rank in the art; but if, indeed, any superior ones are made there, they must be conscientiously retained at home, for it has seldom-never-been my good fortune to hear one that could hold up its head with a respectable English or American piano; and to judge from the multitudinous pedals of some of them, one might be led to conclude that the players of that land are endowed by beneficent nature with an exuberance of feet above what falls to the lot of ordinary mortals. I have seen them with an assortment of six or eight pedals-drums, bells, bassoons, harps, and general tinklers, sufficient to shock the musical instinct of a tasteful Hottentot. Possibly the state of affairs may have improved during a few years, for the builders ought to have profited by the splendid models shown them by England and America, the two countries where the useful and the elegant are so often united. But, apart from the question of excellence, those instruments never did and never will endure the fluctuations of our climate. I have seen an expensive grand piano-the pride of a pupil-separate in its various parts, and become, in a few months, totally worthless. In such cases, contrary to the spirit of the ninth commandment, it is customary to visit the mishaps upon the hoary pate of old Neptune, or on the innocent ships which were the media of importation. To elude the payment of Uncle Samuel's righteous dues, many foreign pianos have been brought to these shores in an unfinished state, thereby claiming immunity from taxation, as raw material; but surely it never would have entered the imagination of a lover of music, that the innocent instrument could be pressed into a confederacy with fraud, until that grievous possibility was discovered by the seizure, at a certain custom-house, of a number of tinsel-bedizened frames packed with costly contraband goods. Being used as an honest cupboard, as once, at least, it was, was far less humiliating to the queen of instruments. French pianos are likewise imported to some extent, and some of them are brilliant and agreeable while they last, but "there's the rub." It really seems incomprehensible that people will wander abroad for that which can be found in greater excellence at home.

Parvenuism prevails among us to a frightful extent. It is the nature of the disease to prefer foreign paste to native diamonds. It would startle and mortify many a would-be fine dame, to discover that her prized imported furniture was made not far from her Avenoodle residence; that her stylish Parisian bonnets and coiffures are the product of ill-paid American fingers; that her sweet French boots never smelt sea air; and, worse than all, that her "old masters," the growing glories that bedeck her walls—the gorgeous-hued saints and saintesses, in whose representation the artist transgressed no known command, forasmuch as they bear not the correct likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or that abides in the sea-were painted, not in Italy, not in France, nor in Holland, but in a sky-parlor not a stone's throw from her stables, by a poor daub of a sign-painter, redolent of tobacco and lager bier. Such, however, in a majority of cases, is the truth.

Oh, Mrs. Potiphar! Mrs. Potiphar! how is thy innocent trust abused!

In point of intrinsic excellence, the American pianos have no superiors, and, it may safely be averred, for elegance and beauty of appearance, few equals; while they are the only ones at all suited to our ever-varying climate. With those of London, Paris, and Vienna, the superb instruments manufactured in various houses in this country may and do challenge honorable competition. The American pianos-those of the first class seem to me to possess an exquisite delicacy of touch, (the primary requisite to a performer,) surpassing that of the English; while in QUANTITY, QUALITY, and EQUALITY, the three grand essentials of a fine musical instrument, they are unquestionably not their inferiors. Of the three forms of pianos, the horizontal grand is the most imposing and powerful, being triple-stringed, and, therefore, the best. adapted to the concert-room. The first one was made by Backers, or Bacchus not he of convivial reputation-in 1777; the first upright grand, by Stoddard, of London, in 1780. The upright piano, both grand and cabinet, has, very deservedly, fallen nearly into disuse, for it bears.

but a poor comparison with its brethren. The square piano, from its convenience of form, has received general adoption.

Few players have the remotest conception of the vast amount of labor expended npon a single piano; of the hundreds of blocks, screws, pins, wedges, springs, hammers, called into requisition; of the piles of timber, the fathoms of wire, the gallons of glue, and the hides of leather employed by the builders thereof; yea, builders, for the instrument must pass through many hands ere it attain completion. Often have I watched the progress of one, from the laying of the bass-block, till the last action-finishing touch. Some idea of the prodigious tension to be provided for, may be gathered from the fact, stated on the authority of a London maker, that in a grand piano-forte of only six octaves, the pull upon the strings is at least equal to the weight of six tons and a half.

A countryman once calling at the house of the writer's father, chanced to espy her, a tiny elf, figuring away on the piano with infinite gusto. In blank amaze, with gaping mouth and distended een, he for awhile listened. At length, advancing warily, he hit one of the keys a stout blow, and recoiled suddenly, inquiring, "Why, what on airth do you call that 'ere thing?" With elaborate politeness he was apprised of the name and qualities of the strange animal, and, at his urgent request, the top was raised, in order that he might the more freely inspect it. This he did thoroughly, poking his inquisitive fingers into every crevice and nook, until, drawing a long breath of intense satisfaction, he exclaimed, with a sagacious nod:

"Wall, I guess as how I've got a little boy to hum, as could make one of them 'ere consarns, if he only seen it oncet!"

It is not, perhaps, absolutely necessary to hint that this genius may have been a Down-Easter. He was a companion-piece to the worthy who came from the country into the city to purchase a piano, and before uringing his daughter from home, wished to be assured that she could be made a perfect musician in six weeks of tuition.

ever.

There are two classes of piano purchasers. The first comprises that sensible and educated portion of the community who seek for, and, when found, are capable of appreciating an intrinsically fine instrument; the other is composed of the far more numerous tribe who look only to externals, fully satisfied if they obtain a big box, curiously bedight with carving and gilding, and are utterly regardless of all musical merit whatThese view the instrument merely as a piece of costly furniture, requisite to complete the adornment of the parlor, and balance some other massive article. If the place in the apartment destined for its reception be limited in size, why, then, an instrument of the precise number of feet and inches must be gotten, for at all risks the symmetry of the room cannot be marred. Just like a connoisseur, who, owning a handsome fraine, trims away a valuable figure to fit it, by lopping off the top of the head, or abridging the feet, or, as is mournfully often the case, (in cases of art, I speak feelingly,) who gives a commission to some unhappy artist to execute a picture, a matchless chef d'ouvre, which must cover exactly so many feet of bare wall.

In the otherwise familiar history of the piano-forte, there is one thing, and but one, which sore puzzles me-it is a mystery as yet unfathoinable-What becomes of all the old pianos? From basement to attic their presence seems to be ignored. Will some charitable antiquary please to throw a gleam of light on the matter?

But the length of this paper warns me that it is high time to close; and that, too, without at all discussing, as had been purposed, the subject of music and musicians. Au revoir. Brooklyn, 1862.

MESSRS. MARETZEK and Grau will give a short opera season at the Academy of Music. As yet, Madame D'Angri is the only member of the Maretzek Troupe as yet arrived from Mexico. Mr. Gottschalk, the pianist, has also returned to us, and will soon give a series of concerts. No doubt he will be successful.

THE third Philharmonic Concert at Brooklyn, under Mr. Carl Bergmann's direction, brought forward Schubert's Symphony in C, which, however, found little favor with the audience. The performances by the Liederkranz were better received.

"DER FREISCHUTZ" was given before a crowded house at the Academy of Music in Brooklyn, Mr. Carl Prox as conductor.

THE first soirée of Messrs. Mills and Mollenhauer was postponed on account of the inclemency of the weather.

MR. JEROME HOPKINS is concertizing in Brooklyn.

WE have received from Mr. S. T. Gordon a collection of Piano pieces and Songs, by Domenico Speranza, the father of the young lady who made such an unsuccessful debut at our Academy of Music. The collection is called La Villeggiatura, contains some good and entertaining pieces, and is very handsomely got up. As a fine specimen of stereotyping it deserves especial mention.

ALL the styles of MASON & HAMLIN's unequaled MELODEONS and HARMONIUMS may now be seen and tested at the New York Warerooms, Nos. 5 & 7 Mercer Street, where they are for sale at manufacturers' prices. Their new School Harmonium, from its very low price, (only $80,) will be in large demand for Schools, Small Churches, Lecture Rooms, etc. Call and examine these admirable instruments when you are in New York.

EUROPEAN ITEMS.

THE sisters Marchisio are singing in London, and apparently with great success. Their chief merit seems to lie in the accuracy and finish of their duet-singing.

"THAT we are to have three Italian operas in London this season," says the English Musical World, "is beyond a doubt; that we are to

have one English opera is not at all likely. Is this a manifestation of musical progress? Is it a sign merely, that English music is acceptable, when none other is to be had?" Entre nous, we decidedly think so.

THE South-Eastern Times of the 21st instant states, that "at a recent meeting of the West Ham board of guardians, the Rev. Thomas Parry, M.A., in the chair, the schoolmaster reported that a number of boys and girls belonging to the schools had for some time been learning glees, part songs, &c., and asked permission of the board to allow the children to give a concert at Rockeby House. The board refused compliance, and thought the children might have been better employed in some industrial occupation; they, however, exonerated the master from all blame."

MADAME LIND GOLDSCHMIDT and Mrs. Sims Reeves are agreed upon another tour (of one fortnight's duration) in the English provinces.

MR. FERDINAND HELLER, in Cologne, has written a new concert overture, which was very successful in Cologne.

ST. PETERSBURG.-According to the terms of his contract, Signor Verdi is bound to produce his new opera, La Forza del Destino, by the middle of January, at the latest. The libretto, written by Piave, and founded on the Spanish drama, is said to be highly interesting. The soprano parts are intended for Signore Lagrua and Fioretti; the tenor part for Tamberlik; the baritone and bass parts for Graziani, Debassini, and Marini. Verdi has composed, also, some ballet music, which, should circumstances require the adoption of such a course, may be omitted without prejudice to the opera. Report speaks very favorably of this newest production of the prolific master's pen. Verdi himself says that he has made fewer concessions than is usual with him to suit the taste of the general public, but that, in this instance, he has written a work which can bear the strictest criticism.

ALEXANDER BOUCHER, the" great French violinist, died recently at Paris, 91 years old.

Our Musical Correspondence.

PHILADELPHIA.

JANUARY 27TH, 1862.-"Music has charms" is an old saying, and anybody who would have seen Musical Fund Hall on Thursday, the 16th inst., would not have doubted it; the hall being crowded that night by a most fashionable audience, attracted thither by an excellent concert given by Mr. Simon Hassler. If we say excellent concert, we mean the programme, for the execution of some of the morceaux could have been a great deal better; this must be said especially of the two overtures by the orchestra, (the Siege of Corinth and the Merry Wives of Windsor)-the latter one being played in a style by no means worthy of the composer, as the programme informed us it would be. Mr. Hassler played the Andante and Rondo from De Beriot's Second Concerto, and a Fantasie by Léonhard, in both of which he showed himself as a true artist and excellent solo violinist. Madame Johannsen, our

prima donna, (as we justly may call her, that lady being a resident of this city,) sang the romance from "Tell," the unavoidable "Oh luce di quest anima," and a song by Kucken, with violin obligato, (played by Mr. S. Hassler,) in truly artistic style. Mr. Charles Schwitz performed a violoncello solo by Kummer, with which he made a most favorable impression upon the audience-as also did Mr. Bishop with some English ballads. The gem of the evening, however, was Liszt's ever-welcome "Midsummer Night's Dream" Paraphrase, played by Mr. Wolfsohn in a manner beyond all praise. The concert, as a whole, was a most successful affair, and we only wish we could have more such entertainments.

We now have to record a performance of Italian opera-or rather a nonperformance. Saturday, the 18th inst., was the memorable day, when the Academy of Music was well filled by an audience eager to listen again to the charming melodies of Rossini's "Barber;" but after waiting two hours, (imagine the patience of a Philadelphia audience!) and listening to some few orchestral selections under Anschutz's bâton, the audience was informed that the New York train, carrying some of the artists, had met with an accident, and that there could be no opera, but that the tickets would be good for an opera night on Friday, the 24th inst.-thus leaving the audience either to shave themselves or to wait another week for the "Barber." Those who shaved themselves were undoubtedly the most prudent; for on Friday the poor "Barber" was murdered in the most horrible way imaginable. We have seen many bad performances of operas, but we cannot call to our mind any worse than that of last Friday. The orchestra and chorus were most inefficient, while the solo artists sang their parts in a wretched manner. Miss Hinkley's “Rosine” was a kind of mixed composition of Rossini and Hinkley;

that is, there was a good deal more of the later's than of the former's. Be sides this, the part is not at all sited to Miss Hinkley, and we would advise her to lay it aside. Brignoli was evidently fatigued, having come from Washington that day,) while Madame Strakosch was laboring under a severe cold. Mancusi and usini were, doubtless, the only two worth listening to, or rather looking at, for their acting was a great deal better than their singing. How can managers expect to draw full houses with such performance-? The whole audience left the Academy disgusted, and there is no doubt this performance accounts for the thin house on Saturday, the 25th inst., to wit

ness

"Don Pasquale" and the Fourth Act from "La Favorita"-both of which were done in a style far superior to the "Barber." Susini, Mancusi, and Brignoli were excellent, while Miss Hinkley acquittel herself in a most creditable manner. Madame Strakosch sang the Fourth Act of "La Favorita” as well as could be expecte i from that lady. Brignoli charmed in this act all hearers with his excellent si ging of the Spirito gentil." Tonight we are going to have La Traviata," with Miss Kellogg, about which I will write in my next, as I also wil about Wolfsohn and Thomas' Second Classical Soirée, which takes place on Thursday next, the 30th inst.

Miscellaneous.

[FOR THE MUSICAL REVIEW AND WORLD.]

"THE PROFESSOR."

TANNHAUSER.

LET all those honorable teachers, who, under the modest title of Professors of Music, "elevate the standard of true music" in this happy and divided country, remaia in peace—we do not refer to them. It is true, that mysterious being, which is generally called so, and which mostly congregates in country towns, has never been duly brought to light and availingly appreciated; but we willingly leave this task to people who are better acquainted with musical matters in the country, and their worthy representatives. "The Professor" we intend to speak about, belongs to the city, and chiefly to New York. He is very seldom of American birth, sometimes French, but mostly German. Generally of a philoso¡ hical turn of mind, he fully believes in Goethe's assertion, that "the whole world is an orchestra," and he accordingly is well satisfied to play his fiddle in it. Needless to say that he is an artist; for has there ever been a human being belonging to the p. ofession who was not "an artist ?" How much more he, then, who actually per orms in concerts, not once or twice, but all the year round, Sundays included. Yes, The Professor is a concert-player, a mau used to receive night after night the homage of a very enligh'ened and enchanted audience. The latter consists, as all audiences more or less do, of ladies and gentlemen, only the former are somewhat in the minority. The bet ́er half has dwindled down to perhaps an eighth of the whole concert community. They nevertheless perform their part of the programme with wonderful skill and amiability. They know how to do the honors of the house. With smiling faces, they present their guests with wholesome lager, and all kinds of less whol, some liquor, which comes, if not from the same bottle, at least from the san e cask "downstairs." And although fully engaged in the performance of the duties of life, they do not forget the not less stringent duties of art. For every glass of lager presented to the guests, "Herr Professor" receives two of the same de lectable stuff, probably on the principle that "life is of short, but art of long duration." Oh, no; the Professor is never forgotten, for without him what would be the concert, and without the concert, what would be the lager? No mistake, the Professor is the arbiter of the destiny of lager in this good city of New York; and after this, that link between lager and artists, which has hitherto been to many a problem of profound mystery, is, we hope, satis factorily explained.

But the Professor is not only a concert-player; he is also a conductor. He is chief of his rchestra, which consists mostly of two members-himself and a pianist. Cecasionally a cornet a piston is added, which, of course, considerably improves the effect. The music which is discoursed by this forinidable orchestra, is of a superior character. It belongs to the highest form in which music has as yet been embodied. It is eminently operatic. We all know that there are several ways and means to produce an opera. We have opera in the theater and opera in the parlor, opera performed by many, by few, and in some instances e en by one solitary artist." The opera, which is cultivated and brought to perfection by the Professor, is the concert opera. What it lacks in completeness, is made up by i.s details. In

fact, it is all details, an art eminently modern, and consequently so much relished by the people of the present times. The great protector and propagator of this art i Cramer. As all gr at composers, so Cramer lives in his works. In fact, these are so popular, that people forget all about their author. It is thus that Henry Cramer has become quite a mysterious person. He lives somewhere in Germany, but where, it is hardly known to any body, least to his American publisher. Cramer, as his great namesake, J. B. Cramer, writes chiefly for the piano-forte; but, unlike his namesake, his musie can be played with any thing you choose. It is true, it mostly combines with the violin; but the flute, cornet a piston, trombone, and the big drum will do just as well. It is this elasticity of purpose which has given rise to the presumption, that Cramer is only á nom de pl«me, that the real author is a German diplomatist, perhaps one of the reigning musical dukes of that blessed country. Be this as it may, it is certain that he is the safeguard of our professor. As every artist has his favorite composer, so the Professor has his Cramer, for he justly thinks that no man has done so much for his art as Henry Cramer. He looks upon him as a wonderful genius, who combines all styles, and is great in every one Ile is as great in Mozart as he is in Verdi, and as expert in Beethoven as he is in Richard Wagner. "Cramer's 'Don Giovanni' is a fine thing," once told us a worthy representative of this class of musicians, who took, as all his colleagues, a considerable quantity of sauff, "but we like his Traviata better."

But it is not thus that the great works of this "wonderful genius" are demonstrated, when performed in the concert-room. Here a shorter and more methodical proceeding is acted upon. As soon as the audience is disposed to hear any thing, the Professor calls out No. 5, or No. 20, or any other number; the pianist opens his book, the Professor takes a pinch of snuff, and the performance of one of Cramer's operas commences, to the entire satisfaction of the public, the artist, and, miserabile dictu, THE CRITIC.

HISTORY OF THE CPERA. From its Origin in Italy to the Present Time: with Anecdotes of the most celebrated Composers and Vocalists of Europe.

6.

WHEN a joke, said Scribe, has been used for fifty years people may begin to laugh at it. If you want to make gingerbread sweeter," says a character in Miss Bremer's charming "Home," you must keep it a year in a pastebeard box." One recalls the witty Frenchman and the Swedish heroine whenever one reflects on the way in which our public thinks and feels towards new music. We like our music as we like our wine, of a certain age. The national curiosity with regard to a new composer or a new work is surprisingly smal', the national appreciation surprisingly slow. Still we make some slight advances. M. Meyerbeer has established his name amongst us, and in time M. Gounod will do the same, in spite of the Aristarchi of the day. It is instructive (to cite an exam] le) to refer to the tone used by Mr. Hogarth in regard to the operas of M. Meyerbeer, which were, when he wrote, as good as they are now. Mr. Edwards is in proportion welcome, as showing the degree to which English appreciation has been quickene!. More remains to be done, without bringing our artists and audiences into the undesirable company of the modern image breakers, who, unable themselves to produce any form of beauty, have tried to set up Deformity on a pedestal, as the model and the divinity in Art of the nineteenth century.

Our author, however, has in some degree fallen short of what might have been accomplished. His book does not show that care in collection of materials which in every modern history is as essential as liberality of view. There are many modern German monographs and biographies with which we fancy him to be imperfectly acquainted, if at all. We cannot accredit all his French authorities M. Castil Blaze, who is an especial favorite with him, is to be little trusted. This is the gentleman who, while Bishop was hashing up foreign operas to suit the musical views of London managers, lent himself to a similar task, for the public in Paris. This is the gentieman who outvied the worst transactions of the frivolous Italian ecclesiastics in transfer of the Bellini or the Verdi of the hour from the footlights to the organ-loft, by arranging a Mass (as M. d'Ortigue has just been reminding us) in which passages from La Cenerentola" and "Il Barbiere" were employed during the most solemn and pompous portions of the rite! Such an artificer is even less to be relied on as an authority than a Touchard-Lafosse, who rakes together all the temporary scandals from the French Opera chronicles; or a Charles Maurice, who has the kindest words to publish concerning the artists most liberal in their contributions to the "black mail," from which himself and Madame

"