and the noble and graceful forms which he places upon the stage, are put in stronger and bolder relief by the glowing and delicately blended tints, and the powerful lights and shadows thrown over them by his orchestra. If, however, Cimarosa's pencil was dipped in fainter colours than that of Mozart, it was because his palette was not so richly spread as that of the German artist. The Italian composers were only beginning to discover those combinations of instruments which had long been familiar in Germany; and many of these discoveries were made by Cimarosa himself, who surpassed all his predecessors and contemporaries in the variety of his orchestral effects. The Matrimonio Segreto still holds a distinguished place on the stage. It is a light and elegant drama, founded on our comedy of "The Clandestine Marriage," and, when well performed, is one of the most delightful entertainments that can be imagined. Cimarosa's greatest serious opera is Gli Orazi e Curiazi, which is still frequently performed on the Continent, though not lately in England.'

Numerous pages are devoted to Haydn, whose original and splendid genius, whose fertility as well as invention, are amply acknowledged. That species of music which, in its true grandeur, owes its birth to the eldest of the modern German triumvirate, is thus described in its early state, when it hardly deserved the name, and as perfected, or, we ought to say, advanced from puling infancy to robust manhood, by Haydn.

The symphony, a description of music which embraces many of the most splendid efforts of modern genius, owes its very existence to Haydn. We have already seen what it was, when in its infancy, in the hands of Bach, Stamitz, and Vanhall; and Haydn's first productions of this kind, in their form at least, can hardly be distinguished from theirs. They were generally in eight parts,—for first and second violins, tenors, and basses, with two oboes, and two horns. The movements were short and simple, and the harmony thin, the wind instruments doing little. more than accompanying the stringed instruments in unison. Haydn began by turning to better account than formerly the powers of the orchestra as it then existed. He extended his movements by giving a more ample development to their subjects; he enriched the harmony; and produced new and beautiful effects by his employment of the wind instruments. By degrees, he swelled the mass of sound, and obtained further varieties of effect, by employing additional instruments, and increasing the number of parts. In this manner he continued to pursue his researches into the regions of orchestral harmony, followed, but never reached, by his contemporaries-till, towards the close of his career, he found a companion in Mozart, who went side by side with him, and even outstripped him in the use of the brazen instruments, the constant addition to the number and discovery of the powers of which, even at the present time, is daily giving new features to the music of our orchestras. Notwithstanding, however, all that has been done by his successors, many of the symphonies of Haydn have never been surpassed. In the exquisite beauty of the melody, the admirable use made of the peculiar genius and capacity of each instrument, and the perfect clearness which pervades every part of the composition,-some of them have hardly yet been equalled.'

Not less justice, in still more space, is done to Mozart, whose transcendant abilities are no less the theme of Mr. Hogarth's praise, than that of every one having the slightest pretensions to write on the subject. But we regret that he should have given even the smallest credit to the ridiculous story of the Requiem having been more than half written by Sussmayer. The subject was taken up some years ago by the Harmonicon, where the absurdity of all the essential parts of the statement was clearly exposed.

Of Beethoven the author is an ardent admirer, but his ardour does not deprive him of his critical discrimination, as the annexed able and welldrawn character of that composer's works most clearly will prove :

The music of Beethoven is stamped with the peculiarities of the man. When slow and tranquil in its movement, it has not the placid composure of Haydn, or the sustained tenderness of Mozart; but it is grave, and full of deep and melancholy thought. When rapid, it is not brisk or lively, but agitated and changeful,-full of "sweet and bitter fancies," of storm and sunshine,-of bursts of passion sinking into the subdued accents of grief, or relieved by transient gleams of hope or joy. There are movements, indeed, to which he gives the designation of scherzoso, or playful; but this playfulness is as unlike as possible to the constitutional jocularity to which Haydn loved to give vent in the finales of his symphonies and quartets. If, in a movement of this kind, Beethoven sets out in a tone of gaiety, his mood changes involuntarily,-the smile fades away, as it were, from his features, and he falls into a train of sombre ideas, from which he ever and anon recovers himself, as if with an effort, and from a recollection of the nature of his subject. The rapid scherzos, which he has substituted for the older form of the minuet, are wild, impetuous, and fantastic; they have often the air of that violent and fitful vivacity to which gloomy natures are liable; their mirth may be compared to that of the bacchanalian effusion of the doomed Caspar. They contain, however, many of Beethoven's most original and beautiful conceptions; and are strikingly illustrative of the character of his mind.' We are willing to believe that what is here quoted, if not what we have said, will excite a wish in our readers to know more of a work which cannot be read without real instruction and unmixed pleasure.

FOREIGN MUSICAL REPORT.

VIENNA.

On the 8th of October, M. and Mad. Buschmann played the instrument called the Terpodion (M. Buschmann is its inventor), at the Hofopfern Theater. The effect it produced on the public was but trifling; had they played one piece it would have been sufficient, consequently three () were rather a bore.

Madlle. Henriette Carl, first singer at the Madrid Theatre Royal, appeared as Anna Bolena, in the opera of that name, at the Hofopfern Theater. She has a good figure and a fine voice, sings correctly and chastely, but (alas, these buts!) the public, already dazzled by the brilliant colourings of Mad. Schütz-Oldosi, expected something more brilliant, and gave the lady less applause than she merited.

A singular event took place at the Hofopfern Theater, on the 15th of October. Weber's opera Oberon was performed, and—what do you think?-the first tenor, Huon (M. Binder), did not sing one note throughout. They say M. Binder was ill; be it so;-but then he should not have appeared at all. The public treated him somewhat roughly, and if he were really ill, and at the same time compelled to appear, he deserved not such usage: while those invisible powers who did compel him, and forced down the throats of the public an opera minus the principal tenor, deserved treatment ten times more severe.

Although Madlle. H. Carl's first reception was not so flattering, her popularity rose wondrously in about a week, by her performance of Amenaide, in Rossini's Tancredi. She played it with much spirit, and drew down the unanimous applause of a public anxious to atone for their former non-appreciation of her beautiful voice and truly artistical style.

One of Auber's wild oats, the opera Emma, made its first appearance at the Hofopfern Theater, on the 20th of October. The manager conferred thereby but little benefit either on the composer, the public, or himself; all three might regret he did not produce something better. The music is but a school-boy's work; and we have known Auber in his maturity. Then the libretto is so marvellously tedious, that there is but small cause for wonderment that an Italian air introduced by Madlle. Löwe should bear away all the praise.

The third appearance of Madile. Carl was as the Princess of Navarre, in John of Paris, when she received unanimous applause, and had the honour of being called for: whether the means by which such honour was attained were quite comme il faut, is another question. The means, at any rate, were two Italian airs, which she introduced, and sung in the Italian language. This is not as it should be; but if one makes the public thunder down applause, is not the end gained?

M. Kapellmeister Lachner, from Mannheim, on the 31st of October produced his last symphony in E, at the Hofopfern Theater, with the assistance of the orchestra there, which he conducted in person. Instructed by the great models whose immortal remains are his patterns, and improved by the experience gathered from his own labours, M. Lachner has shown by this new production, that in the field of symphony he can enter into the lists with any living composer. If the bold flight of his genius equals not that of Beethoven (and who can equal it?) he perfectly understands how to set to work on the grand scale, and how to astonish by his selection of simple themes, which are not in the quartet, but the real symphony style, and which ever appear new by the varied colouring of the instrumentation. He met with boisterous ap¦ plause, of which the orchestra had its share, and deservedly, for it was fully animated by the soul of the composer; and never since M. Lachner's absence did we find it in such good trim as on this delightful evening. We regret to say the theatre was not so full as might have been wished for the honour of good taste, and that of our city.

An oratorio, before unheard, called David, by Bernhard Klein, was performed at the Musical Union Hall, on the noon of the 1st of November. The Society of Friends to Music in the Austrian Empire has a new claim on our gratitude, having, for the second time, exerted its artistical energy (that energy which is always working for a true end) in presenting us with the creation of a master, of whom, with shame be it spoken, we knew little else but the name. And yet, ex ungue leonem, if we may judge from this sample, he may indubitably be placed among the phenomena of a time rather lacking the severe grave style of music. His is, indeed, the true oratorio-style, just as it was called into life by the mighty Handel; divested, indeed, of some antiquities, which are deservedly consigned to oblivion, but clothed with all the legitimate ornaments which we owe to a progressive and more refined cultivation, and of which every one is allowed to make use, provided he knows how to economize them, and has the good taste not to overstep the legal boundaries. Hence we find the instrumental part actually brilliant; at times, indeed, lavishly composed, and all arranged for an original and even overpowering effect. The choruses are worked up with overpowering strength; and we must not omit to mention the arias, recitatives, and concerted pieces, which breathe truth, expression, deep feeling, and glowing animation, without ever departing from a religious tendency. The masterly performance, under M. Schmeidel's direction, deserves unqualified praise; the solo parts were most ably filled by Mad. Kraus Wranitzky, Madlles. Dinelt and Hönig, and MM. Lutz,

Reggla, and Hase; and in the choral and orchestral body, unanimity, zeal, and good-will for a good cause were very conspicuous.

On the 2nd of November, M. Hammermeister, royal Prussian courtsinger, appeared at the Hofopfern Theater as Don Juan, in Mozart's chef-d'œuvre. This Guest is a pretty singer and experienced actor, both of which a performer of the part in question ought to be. Still we must confess that M. Hammermeister has not that power or passion which is absolutely necessary to produce effect. He received applause, though a certain malicious voice in the pit was heard to say, that only one person had sung that evening, viz., Madlle. Heinefetter.

All the musical world were on the 3rd of November much excited by a certain placard. This announced that Therese Ottavio (a young lady aged thirteen), pupil of MM. Paganini and Beriot, would perform variations by the latter; and that M. Schmidt, member of the Académie de l'Industrie in France, and inventor of the Apollo-Lyra, would on this instrument play four pieces of music. The young lady played her violin with much elegance and animation, and overcame many serious difficulties. She received tumultuous applause. The Apollo-Lyra produced but little effect, i. e., met with little applausé. A query seemed to be afloat as to whether the invention was new.

The dramatic powers of M. Hammermeister appeared to great advantage in his performance of Gaveston, in the White Lady. He is, certainly, the first who has made a character of this part, and this was recognised by the better part of the audience.

Three arias sung at a concert, by Madlle. Carl, have proved that the concert-room is her proper sphere. She was called for five times.

PRAGUE.

A long expected novelty on our boards was Robert the Devil, got up with exceeding brilliancy, which has so far performed its duty, as to fill the house ever since its production, although we must confess the music does not quite answer the expectations that had been raised. Robert the Devil is certainly a very ingenious and original, and in many passages, a very characteristic and even melodious composition, yet it wants connexion; many themes are scarcely touched upon, which should have been more worked up, while others seem too much reduced to their component elements, and are so often repeated as to produce tedium. The first act contains several very distinguished pieces, particularly the introduction, and the finale, which is unquestionably one of the best things in the opera. In the second act the Princess takes the lead; she may be considered as very brilliant, and when (as with us), she is well played, deserves honourable mention. Next to her stands the beautiful female chorus, though a little more precision would have been desirable. The third act appears most tedious, and leads us to believe that the mystico-awful is not the composer's forte. However, the best things in it were the chorus of subterranean spirits, and the conclusion of the dance of female phantoms. The fourth act embraces the finest pieces of the whole; viz., the grand aria by the Princess, and the trio between Robert, Bertram, and Alice. The concluding finale is magnificent. And now, touching the performances.-Madlle. Lutzer (the Princess,) deserves the most honourable mention; in the few pieces depending on her, she exhibited all that rich art, all the brilliancy and fulness of her noble voice, rendering her own part almost the leading one of the opera. Next in rank stands Mad. Podhorskey (Alice), though her part was not exactly suited to her. M. Demmer was a capital Robert, and never was M. Emminger so tolerable, though, to be sure, his little part (Raimbaut,) required no great power of voice. Bertram, at first, fell to the lot of M. Strakaty, who, in the attempt to perform a part to which his mental and bodily powers were unequal, fell more than ever into a false style of voice, and sang rather to himself than fully out of his breast. M. Pöck succeeded him in the part, to which his noble voice was admirably adapted, and conceived it nobly, being a most interesting character, whether we regard his acting or his appearance; in fact, he left nothing to desire, except, perhaps, a little more fiendish malice. However, this great change for the better did not produce the great change in the opera, considered as a whole, that might have been expected, and we first perceived that Bertram was not destined by the composer for a very powerful character. The decorations and costumes were extremely brilliant. M. Raub arranged very well the dance in the second act; that in the third was too modern, too much divested of fancy and romantic keeping. The reception by the public could scarcely be called even lukewarm, for though the principals were called for after the singing of their most beautiful pieces, and though the opera has always been well attended, yet we cannot consider it such a hit as the Dumb Girl of Portici; and if as little had been done for the outward brilliancy of this opera as of that, it would hardly have kept its footing.

Madlle. Sabine Heinefetter selected Norma for her last appearance, part to which her peculiarities are in many respects adapted, and it must be confessed that her acting, especially in the second part, was very remarkable. As concerns her singing, she took it into her head to alter the part so materially, as very much to injure the effect intended to be produced; we would counsel her not to attempt this part often, especially as we have so young a Norma on our stage already. After she had once repeated the character, she sung, between-acts, at the * Gast.-A name given to a foreigner come to star.-EDITOR,

benefit of M. Pusch, the Cavatina from Ugo, Conte di Parigi, and last, in the presence of the Queen Mother of Bavaria, (who appeared in her box three minutes before the close of the opera,) sung the part of Romeo, in the Montecchi e Capuleti.

Madlle. Francilla Pixis, singer from Paris, (as the play-bills called her, and which the public took very ill, although it was the truth,) performed here two Gastrollen*, Malcolm, in the Donna del Lago, and Romeo, in the Montecchi e Capuleti; the first, to a just but cool acknowledgment of her merit, the second to tumultuous applause, such as Madlle. S. Heinefetter never received, whose voice is certainly unequal to that of Madlle. Pixis in youthful strength and fulness. The young lady's voice is a melodious and comprehensive mezzo-soprano, and if her colouring be not quite faultless, she makes up for that by a truly classic style of singing, and by that dignified, tasteful, and touching delivery, which announces the dramatic vocalist. A few alterations and introductions we could by no means approve; they seemed out of place. In the Montecchi, instead of the proper conclusion, a third act, by Vaccai, was introduced, which though unquestionably more dramatic and full of feeling than Bellini's ending, is somewhat too lengthy, and poor Giulietta has to wake from her fainting-fit and sing herself almost out of breath before she dies, and that without producing much effect. In both pieces Romeo is the hero, and with him dies the opera.

M. Draka concluded his Gastrollen with Sir Vergy, in Blue Beard. Several play-bill puff's served to crowd the house, but, however, the guest was suffered pretty quietly to depart.

M. Pöck, on his return from his travels, appeared as Orovist, in Norma, and as Figaro, in the Barber of Seville, and met with his accustomed applause. In the last opera Madlle. Lutzer took the part of Rosina, which had long been looked for with eagerness, as that character seemed admirably fitted to her singing and acting-yet, blessed are they who expect nothing!-Though she certainly sung very finely, she suffered herself, in her desire to outstrip all her predecessors, to be led into such an overloading of ornaments on her cavatina, that the superfluities rendered people indifferent to her really beautiful surmounting of the greatest difficulties. Even in the very dramatic and characteristic duet with Figaro, she introduced variations, which indeed were gems in themselves, but in this situation a mere interruption. In the lesson-scene in the second act she introduced a somewhat tedious aria by Raimondi (or Carafa). Here would have been the place to exhibit her skill in a bravura, and here would it have been acknowledged to a full extent. The little success which she met with in this part was doubly unpleasant to us, as it served to corroborate a false notion that she is only fitted for tragic parts.

Our latest guest was M. Wild, who made his début on our stage as Zampa, and was received with great expectations. We had heard of M. Wild as a singer who united the solidest German art with the deepest expression and feeling, and whose performance was the more successful the more stormy was the passion to be portrayed. So said the Viennese papers, and of course justified us in expecting all that was possible, if not a little more. Alas! our expectations were not satisfied. M. Wild is, certainly, an excellent musical declaimer, but the power of his voice has latterly so diminished, that we could hardly commend him for selecting a part which, in the first place, demands the organ of a giant, and in the next place a qualification which M. Wild once possessed, viz., a good falsetto. That the natural powers of a performer who has been thirty years on the German stage have diminished, is no cause of surprise, yet we cannot help wondering that an experienced vocalist, like M. Wild, should pick out unsuitable passages, which whirl him up into the higher regions, leaving the audience in an interesting doubt, whether acquired skill or natural infirmity will gain the day. And sometimes, what is worse than all, he sings a false note.

In the last act we missed in M. Pöck the proper Italian glow, the genteel deportment of a born Count; though certainly there was a noble grace in his movements. M. Wild, on the other hand, displayed an unpleasant vulgarity in his speech and gestures, and only towards the end he fell into a kind of pompous dignity; this continued till his last duet, which he decorated, not indeed with Italian warmth, but with gestures which we did not consider over-delicate. His reception, compared with that when he was formerly with us, could not, certainly, be called brilliant.

The second character he took was Otello, which was very good in its way, and here was the change which his voice had sustained less remarkable; it certainly required great exertion for him to sing the more forcible passages, yet he executed them with great expression and feeling. On the whole, recitative operas are best adapted to M. Wild, as they in a less degree betray his Austrian brogue, of which, in spite of the long time he has passed away from home, he has never got rid.

His third part, that of Fritz the Upholsterer, in die Braut (the Bride), was less successful. This had formerly been one of his most triumphant efforts, but on the present occasion he unfortunately met with a most icy reception. Norma was the next piece in which he appeared, and played Severus with so much expression and feeling, that we for the

* Must we repeat that Gastrolle means the part chosen by a foreigner to star in ?EDITOR.

first time recognized the M. Wild of former days, the best tenor in Germany, and felt indignant at the public for giving him less applause than was his due. Fortunately for M. Wild, die Unbekannte (the Unknown One) was revived on the boards, to the great joy of the lovers of music, who remembered what he had been in Arthur; and indeed we may call this one of his happiest performances, though the most formidable rival he had to contend with was the recollection of his former self. A second invincible rival was M. Pöck (Waldeburg), whose powerful sonorous voice cast that of the rest into the shade, though he certainly cannot compete with M. Wild on the ground of genuine art. Madile. Fürth took the part of Isoletta, as a Gastrolle, but appeared so much overcome, and seemed so indisposed, that we refrain from forming any judgment. Never was M. Wild more happy than in Fra Diavolo, but the most unsuccessful of all his parts was Don Juan, where he not only forgot the Spanish grandee (for such he is, notwithstanding his being a Roue), but even sometimes failed in his singing. The duet with Zerlina (Madlle. Lutzer), and Elvira (Mad. Schmidt-Friese), he sang very charmingly and tenderly, though, strange to say, both were coolly received. The Champagne song was half spoken and half screamed, and if we have thought M. Pöck's style of singing this too rough, yet he was a Lablache compared with M. Wild; and notwithstanding all this, we noticed a group who cried Encore! Perhaps it was the judginent of this select few that seduced M. Wild so far from the paths of rectitude, that he (guess, gentle reader!) fired a pistol in the first finale. The good people of Prague could not stand this, they had seen Don Juan for the last fifty years without any pistolfiring, and consequently not a hand was moved in applause at the fall of the curtain. In Masaniello M. Wild made a very fair hit; and as the finest thing of all, we must mention Nadori, in Jessonda, which he sung with so much feeling and expression, that we may say we never saw that part filled before. A transposition in the duet with Amazili caused it to lose some of its original effect. The public acknowledged his merit in certain passages, though even here the applause was not adequate to the worth of the artiste. Madle. Lutzer (Jessonda), Mad. Podhorskey (Amazili), and M. Pück (Fristan), supported him ably.

NAPLES.

I Dotti per Fanatismo, with music by the young Count Nicolo Gabriele, has received great applause in the Teatro Nuovo. Donizetti's newest opera, Lucia di Lammermoor, has been acted at the Teatro San Carlo, with great success. The composer, and the three principal performers, Mad. Tacchinardi, Duprey (tenor), and Cosselli, (base), were called for till they were weary.

MILAN.

The incomparable Malibran has appeared at the Teatro alla Scala as Desdemona, and charmed everybody. A journalist here has compared her to Halley's comet.

On the 11th of November a concert was given at the same place by the Spaniard Buxo and his Sister. The place was thronged; the magnet which attracted them was the word "Malibran," in the anThis excellent artiste sung, with M. Frezzolini, a nouncement bills. comic duet from M. Rossi's Amelia, in her usually perfect manner. The parts in which she imitated the voice of an old woman excited the greatest applause. (!) This duet was encored. Besides this we had the variations from Rossini's Cenerentola; and a Bolero song in the Spanish language, by Mad. Garcia--we can praise nothing in her, save the compass of her voice. In a cavatina from Donizetti's Esule di Roma, M. Pasini produced but small effect, which was the fate also of the two Buxos, in pieces which they played on the violin and piano.

VENICE.

Rossini's improved Moïse has been performed at the Apollo Theatre, and was on the second evening very well received, which we must ascribe to the zeal of the performers, and particularly to the excellencies of Melas, Scalese, Lei, and Reina.

Ricci's opera, Chi dura, vince, has been produced at the same house. It was a total failure, Matas alone having been called for.

THE DRAMA.

DRURY-LANE THEATRE.

On the 5th of January, an English version of Auber's opera. Le Cheval de Bronze, was brought out at this theatre under the title of The Bronze Horse. The drama has been adapted to our stage by Mr. Bunn, and the English words fitted to the music by Mr. T. Cooke. This piece has been a great favourite with the Parisians; but, notwithstanding the splendour with which it has been got up, and the prettiness of the music, its success here has been but moderate. The plot (if it may be so

called) is absurd even to childishness; and its want of coherence and interest is not redeemed by the smart and lively dialogue which gives a certain grace and tournure to the veriest trifles of the French theatre. The story, being a tissue of nonsense, cannot be told intelligibly. Such foolery (by no means fit for the nursery amusement of an intellectual infant of four years old) is a specimen of the stuff to which the music of the best masters is now-a-days doomed to be united. We wonder that an artist of Auber's merit should have condescended to employ his talent on such a subject: Mozart or Weber would have spurned the proposal. A subject may be wild or supernatural, provided it be imaginative and poetical like the Zauberflöte, or impassioned and interesting like the Freischütz. But, on seeing the Bronze Horse, we feel at every instant that the whole is a bad joke. In such a case, the spectacle, however splendid, is an empty pageant, and the music, however clever, a series of unmeaning sounds. But the music cannot be beautiful in such a case; for, wanting expression, (which it must want, when there is nothing to express,) it wants the element of beauty. Such, accordingly, is the character of Auber's music in this piece. There are several pleasing and sprightly melodies, strongly marked with this composer's peculiar manner; some ingenious and effective concerted movements; and a great deal of masterly instrumentation. We listen with pleasure, but without emotion; and, when it is over, it vanishes from the memory, leaving not a trace behind. How different from the effect produced by the spirit-stirring strains of Masaniello!

The piece was well performed. Miss Shirreff looked pretty in her Chinese costume, and sang very charmingly. Templeton, too, acquitted himself ably, and his intonation was less uncertain than we frequently find it. Miss H. Cawse exhibited her never-failing talent in a trifling comic part; and PHILLIPS, in the Mandarine, produced a good deal of laughter by his whimsical acting, while he sang with his usual ability. The piece ran, as it is called-that is, was performed every evening for a very short time, and has since been played occasionally. It is not worth the trouble and cost bestowed on it.

ST. JAMES'S THEATRE.

THE suspicions that a newly-built house must be damp deterred the elapsed. The reports of its beauty and convenience, in which every public, generally, from visiting this theatre till three or four weeks had account agreed, some clever performers, most of them unknown at the west end of the town, a new opera, two highly diverting farces, nay Braham himself,-all combined, could not overcome the moisturephobia. But Christmas turned, apprehensions died away, and no longer were vacant places to be seen. The Waterman, in which Mr. Braham introduced the favourite Bay of Biscay,' the revival of The Spoiled Child, and Monsieur Jacques, a new piece, doubtless co-operated in attracting. Of Monsieur Jacques it is not overleaping the bounds of critical discretion to say, that both as regards this one-act drama, and the acting of the principal part in it by Mr. Barnett, a more effective representation has rarely been witnessed. Monsieur Jacques, a French composer and teacher of music, settled at Palermo, is engaged to instruct a young lady of noble family. After six months have passed, the master and scholar avow mutual attachment, marry, and quit Palermo, but at the end of two days are taken by their pursuers; he is tried for marrying one of illustrious birth without consent, and sentenced to the galleys. He is speedily delivered, through the influence of gold judiciously distributed by the agent of some person unknown. At the same time he receives a letter from his wife, telling him to make his way to England, whither she promises to follow him as quickly as circumstances will admit. He arrives at Dover, where during twenty years he is daily expecting her. At the expiration of this period the drama commences. Ile is lodging in a miserably-furnished garret, and hourly looking to the sea for the vessel that is to bring the object of his constant, deep attachment; an expectation which is become a species of monomania. At length a young lady, a foreigner of distinction, lands at Dover, and applying for lodgings at the very house in which Monsieur Jacques resides, learns something of his history, finds that he has been half supported and much comforted by a young English poet, in circumstances only a degree better than his own, and whom she had, not without emotion, seen in his walks on the pier, where he had noticed her with feelings corresponding to her own. That she is Monsieur Jacques' daughter, soon appears; also that his wife, delayed by various circumstances in her journey to England, had given birth to a child, Nina, and shortly after died. The sequel may be imagined: the father unites the hand of his friend, the poet, with that of his daughter. There are two songs and a trio in this piece, by Mr. Barnett, not unworthy of the reputation acquired by the composer of The Mountain Sylph.

To our correspondents, &c., in our next.

boy as a chorister in the Duomo, or cathedral, of Milan, and there received his early education under Paladini, who instructed him in singing, playing on the harpsichord, and in composition. He, however, finally adopted the violin, which he studied under Lorenzo Somis, one of Corelli's best disciples. At the age of seventeen he went to Naples, and was, on the recommendation of Jomelli, admitted into the orchestra of the great opera-house. In 1748 he travelled into Germany, and in 1750 he arrived in London, the city which was destined to be the scene of his triumphs, and in which he soon obtained most of the posts of honour and profit which in those days were the reward of a great violinist. In 1756, he unfortunately joined with the famous Signora Mingotti in an Italian opera speculation, for the management of which neither was qualified, and both were ultimately losers to a very serious amount. In 1784 Giardini revisited Naples, and became the guest of Sir W. Hamilton, one of his best scholars on the violin. In 1789 he returned to this country, and performed in public, but not with his former success time, and still more a dropsical tendency, had much impaired his powers. In 1793 he repaired to St. Petersburg, but there, as well as at Moscow, he failed to produce the effect he once excited. He died in Russia in 1796, at the age of eighty, and, it is feared, in the most adverse circumstances.

Giardini composed one oratorio, Ruth (for the Lock Hospital), three Italian operas, several quintets, quartets, and trios, six sonatas for the harpsichord, and numerous songs. The instrumental pieces are now all forgotten, but his English songs, which are exceedingly melodious and elegant, will bear his name to posterity

as a composer.

SONG (Page 86).

O! had I been by fate decreed
Some humble cottage swain,

In fair Rosetta's sight to feed

My sheep upon the plain,

What bliss had I been born to taste,
Which now I ne'er must know!

Ye envious powers! why have ye placed
My fair one's lot so low?

Sung by Young Meadows, in Love in a Village, the words by HENRY BAKER, and inserted, without any acknowledgment, in the opera by Bickerstaffe: the music by

SAMUEL HOWARD, MUS. D.

This once most favourite song-composer was educated in the King's Chapel, under Bernard Gates. He then studied under Dr. Pepusch, and graduated at Cambridge, as doctor in music, at the time when the late Duke of Grafton was installed Chancellor of that university. He was organist of the churches of St. Clement Danes, and St. Bride in Fleet Street, and died in 1782. Dr. Burney says of him, that his ballads, which were long the delight of natural and inexperienced lovers of music, had the merit of facility, &c.' This, in effect, is high praise, though intended as caustic censure. Whatever long continues to please the many must possess merit, and of a most decided kind. But Dr. B. very reluctantly bestowed commendation on any but the Italian music of his day. The present, and other songs by Howard, will always be admired by persons of true taste, whether skilful in the art or otherwise.

written by

You are the queen all flowers among,But die you must, fair maid, ere long, As he, the maker of this song.

ROBERT HERRICK,

whose poems were published in an octavo volume in 1648, under the title of Hesperides, or the Works of Robert Herrick, Esq. He was born in London in 1591, and educated at St. John's, Cam

bridge. The Esquire added to his name seems to have arisen from some mistake, for he was in holy orders, and received from Charles I. the vicarage of Dean Prior, Devon, from which he was dismissed during the Commonwealth, but recovered his living

at the Restoration. The time of his death is not ascertained.

The brief air is Russian, from a collection of Russische Volkslieder, published at Leipzig, by Breithopf and Härtel.

QUARTET (Page 88).*

Enjoy thyself howe'er thou art: Betide what will, man's better part

Is nerve, and right-good feeling. Quake not at every trifling pain, But wait till all is well again: No grief is past the healing.

which is a free translation of the following words, to which the music was originally set :

Ermunterung.

Ja freue dich so wie du bist,

Das beste dass am menschen ist,
Heisst kraft gefühl und Willen,
Hast du auch oft geirrt, gefehlt,
So hast du wieder dich gestählt,
Und plagst dich nicht mit grillen.

CANZONET (Page 90).

The Lovely Land.-BEETHOVEN.

1.

Know'st thou the land where the sweet citron grows,-
Where mid dark leaves the golden orange glows,-
Where the soft zephyrs from blue heavens breathe,
And gentle myrtles with proud laurels wreathe?-
Know'st thou it well?-Then oh !
With thee, my dearest, thither would I go.

2.

Know'st thou the house that rests on columns high,
Whose sparkling halls oppress the dazzled eye,―
Where marble figures look on me so mild,

And seem to say, ' and could they harm thee, child?'
Know'st thou it well?-Then oh!
With thee, my dearest, thither would I go.

3.

Know'st thou the mountain, and its air-built bridge,
Within whose caverns lurks the dragon's brood,-
Whence rolls the rent rock, and the rushing flood?

Know'st thou it well?-Then oh! With thee, my dearest, thither would I go. A translation, by W. J. Walter, Esq., of a song in Goethe's novel, Wilhelm Meister, Book iii. chap. 7. The author himself thus explains the half-concealed meaning.-". The

voice was Mignon's. The music and general expression pleased Wilhelm extremely, though he could not fully comprehend the words. Every verse began in a stately and solemn measure, as if she were desirous of drawing attention to something wonderful, and had something important to communicate. In the third line her tones became fainter and more subdued. Know'st thou it well? was uttered with an air of mystery and earnest inquiry. Then oh! then oh! manifested a boundless longing. Thither let us go, appeared at once to implore and to impel stood silent for some moments, and then said to Wilhelm, 'Know'st thou the land? Surely, it can mean no other than Italy,' said Wilhelm."

She

But further explanation is necessary to the clear understanding of this celebrated song of Goethe.