filling everybody with delight with the rich tones which the produced. Last, but not by any means least, was Barili, whose dramatic efforts, as well as vocal, were exceedingly fine-nor were they lost upon the audience-for every note and action was thoroughly appreciated. A finer delineation of the scheming Don Basilio is rarely scen. Anschütz did wonders with the Grand Piano and the few musicians he could muster; but then you know, he is a host in himself. So much for the Barber of Seville" in Hartford. 64 Thursday night we were treated to two morceaux— "Les Noces de Jeannette," and " Betly." In "Les Noces," we had Miss CLARA LOUISE KELLOGG in the sprightly character of Jeannette, and Mons. DuBREUIL as Jean; and, for the "orchestra," the indispensable Grand, with the indispensable ANSCHUTZ to conduct it. I dislike very much to speak of Miss Kellogg in any way which might seem to disparage the fine performances of Madame SUSINI, for the latter has hosts of friends in Hartford; but the rounds of continued applause which greeted the former upon her appearance on the stage that evening, in the character of Jeannette, were a spontaneous and heart-felt token of the appreciation which the Hartford people have of her genius, her talents, and her wonderful powers as a singer. She was most enthusiastically applauded in everything she sang; and in the delicious "Sewing Song,"-" Cours, mon aiguille," was rapturously encored, bouquets being thrown, as also after the difficult and most bewitching " Air Du Rossignol," (Nightingale Song,) which was an astonishing exhibition of vocal culture. At the close of the operetta, Miss Kellogg was called before the curtain and received the renewed plaudits of the whole house. I have well nigh for gotten Mons. DUBREUIL, who proved himself a thorough artist-singing and acting charmingly. Now comes Donizetti's beautiful little opera, Betly-full of light, pretty music --and delightfully sung by Mme. SUSINI, BRIGNOLI and SUSINI. All did much better than the evening previous, Mme. Susini entering into the work with much more spirit than usual, while Brignoli was not at all sparing of his clear, ringing di petto tones, which overcapped, with silvery tinge, the big, sonorous voice of Sig. Susini. The whole evening was a complete success; and every one went away over and over satisfied with this fourth night of quasi opera in Hartford. H. Dwight's Journal of Music. BOSTON, NOVEMBER 30, 1861. MUSIC IN THIS NUMBER. Continuation of "The Hymn of Praise," (Lobgesang), a Cantata by Mendelssohn. Chamber Concerts. MENDELSSOHN QUINTETTE CLUB. It is hard to realize that we are in the midst of civil war. that we are fighting the fight, perhaps the final one, of Civilization against a treacherous and arrogant pro-Slavery rebellion, with all its backward and Barbarian proclivities, when we can come together in peace and comfort, just aa in the unsuspecting days, to meet the familiar music-loving faces, and listen to a coneert of the Mendelssohn Quintette Club. Nothing perhaps in Boston could show so little change to one who went away not dreaming of what the year was to bring forth for us politically, as that quiet scene in Chickering's Hall, on Wednesday evening. There they were, the constant old habitués, the faithful ones, whose presence has been identified with the Quintette concerts from the beginning and throughout their twelve years' history- at least enough of them there were to make it seem the same sphere and the same life, until one began to look for others who were not there. There was the usual greeting to the last dollar of our means, for the principles And why sbould it not be so? Why shall not the inspiring thoughts, the beautiful spirit language, the harmouizing influences of Mendelssohn and Beethoven, claim their full share of attention, be enjoyed and felt as well now as in more peaceful times? Is music a plaything, or a soul's necessity? The real music-lover will not hesitate about the answer. The times of course demand much of sterner work; the best things in the long run must sometimes be postponed to what is best (that is, necessary) for the time being. But whatever stern work is required of us, whatever rough necessities of war are forced upon us peaceful and peace-loving people, we cannot forget that peaceful things are all the while the real end of life, and we must carry on a settled life of some sort, in times of war as well as of peace. Our fight is for Civilization; and we do well therefore to keep up all the civilizing elements and influences, and let all the sweet flowers blow, and wholesome fruits ripen, that we can, amid the storm. We must shelter all the seeds and nurseries of Civilization, of true culture and humanity, all the more jealonsly while the storm rages and while we are compelled to take up the weapons which hopeful Christian progress would fain have laid down forever and forgotten as entirely as the extinct monster races of the early geological periods. Called to fight for peaceful arts and influences, we must, at the same time, cherish and increase them where we True to the sterner duty, let us not forget the other also. can. And so it naturally works. We are a human, a peace-loving, Christian people. We have found fine Arts, as well as sciences and industries, good for our souls, good for us socially useful, indispensable - nay attributes and glories of a Free state as distinctive from a state of Slavery. We have not loved music from sheer idleness; it has been earnest breath of life to us. And so we contrive to make room for it even now, and allow the hot chambers of our straightened anxious life a little of its wholesome ventilation even in those dark days of the nation's trial. The traveller returning from abroad, therefore, was not surprised, in setting foot again in dear old Boston, and taking up a newspaper, to find a column full of opera and concert advertisements. We have accepted the crisis; we have chosen our part; we are in to the last drop of life blood, Of the Concert itself - the first of this thirteenth season - we must speak briefly. The programme was pretty much after the old pattern, containing not much of novelty, but some of the good old favorites, which made us feel the more at home. 1. Quartet, in D. No. 3. op. 18. 3. Fantasie, and Variations for Flute, on "God Save the concert. We hope better luck this evening, at the third The programme is particularly invitA Trio by Schubert, in which MOLLENHAUER, violoncellist, will assist Messrs. Eichberg and Leonhard; a Beethoven Sonata for 'cello and piano; a part of Beethoven's Trio, op. 70: a Siciliano by Bach, and an Adagio by Spohr, by Mr. Eichberg; one of Beethoven's "Scotch Songs" (see letter from Mr. Thayer on another page) and three Franz songs, by Mr. Kreiss works, embodying all the traits of his peculiar originality, his midsummer fairy vein and his large, religious fervor and grandeur included-ing. gave us opportunity to see how greatly Mr. B. J. LANG, always clever, has improved his uncommon talent for the piano. He played it with perfect clearness and marked, intelligent emphasis. Perhaps, considering the great power of the instrument he played on, he did not humor it so as to get out its best tone in the strong passages of the first movement; to our ear it was a little hard and heavy; but this impression disappeared in the sympathetic and truly "espressivo" sounds of the Andante, and seldom returned to disturb us in the following movements. How grand and full of matter most inspiring, that last, Allegro appassionato, is! He was well seconded by the violin and 'cello. This piece made the great impression of the evening. mann. Italian Opera. Mr. ULLMAN, during the present week has given us a little taste of opera; a sort of foretaste of what we may enjoy in the future, if we do our whole duty by him, two of these performances being for the benefit of the manager himself, in order to enable him to carry out his plans for our future delight. Un Ballo in Maschera, which was given on Monday night, was surely not the opera that we should have selected to draw a full house for our own benefit in Boston, nor could we conscientiously have recommended it to Mr. Ullman for his. Pleasant enough to hear, does not excite enthusiasm in any class of hearers, and as the novelty of it has worn off, it did not attract the packed house which so important an object as Mr. Ullman had in view, demanded, although quite a large audience was present. The flute Fantasia was for the introduction of the new member of the Club, Mr. ROBERT GOERING, who is to fill the useful place (especially for their out-of-town concerts) of one available for a second violin in the Quintets, and a contrast of tone in opera arrangements and lighter pieces needing color. The piece played was of the usual pattern of parade pieces for the Flute-in which Flute, breath, fingers, tongue, count as ingredients 99 per cent., and Music one per cent : -slow and solemn introduction, empty as solemn, impressing its utterances with trilling emphasis; a theme, plainly given (Austrian National hymn), and then seriously tortured with all sorts of variations of delightful difficulty; a Coda; and-immense applause. The gentleman showed himself a rare proficient in all this business, and indeed an excellent flute player. His tone is full and clear, his execution neat and equal to all difficulties and graces. In a staccato variation he gave a specimen of continued rapid double-bravely. Her voice has developed considerably since tonguing, which we should think might have worn out a tongue not made of steel. 46 The Quintet by Gade is a very pleasing, dreamy and poetic composition, full of the usual seashore reverie of that composer, who never reaches, but continually suggests, such Mendelssohnian creations as the Hebrides" overture, the first and second movements of the "Scotch Symphony," &c. It is rich and full in harmony, flows on naturally and smoothly, a good accompaniment to sweet-sad thoughfs; and it was finely rendered. The Club have in store for us some of the wondrous Quartets of Beethoven's latter period, and other good things, new and old, and, after this auspicious beginning, will, we doubt not, win us back more and more to music, in spite of this rebellious interruption and defiance to the gentler genius of our century. SECOND SOIREE OF MESSRS. KREISSMANN, LEONHARD & EICHBERG. We sincerely regret that it was not possible for us to make one of the handful of listeners, whom the storm of Saturday permitted to attend the concert of three artists so accomplished and so earnest in their several The spheres, as the gentlemen just named. assistance of the ORPHEUS CLUB, too, made our loss the more provoking. As it is, we can only record the programme. We were none the less eager to hear the "Kreutzer" Sonata again, now that we have heard both Joachim and David play in it, the former with Clara Schumann. The cast presented some changes from that of the last season, of which none were calculated to add to its attractiveness, if we except the appearance of Miss KELLOGG, in a new character, (Amelia), which of course was an interesting feature in the performance. It is a hard task for a young singer to assume a part with which so accomplished an artist as Mad. Colson is entirely identified, but Miss Kellogg stood the test the last season, improving in volume and flexibility, while it has lost none of its good traits. Some of the music is too low for her voice to give with due force, but in the higher passages she sang with brilliant effect, giving all the music of the part, some of which Colson usually omitted. She showed the same grace and ease of action which we have formerly noted as being natural to her, we might say inborn, although this character, so monotonously tragic, is not one best fitted for her powers. When the essentials are so good, it is perhaps ungracious to speak of mere accessories, but we could not help wishing her a more becoming toilet, both in the colors and the make of her dresses, which were singularly ill adapted to her graceful and slender figure. Miss HINKLEY (now Signora SUSINI) has also improved in voice since we last saw her on the stage. She looks the pretty page as charmingly as ever, so that we almost pardon the indistinctness of enunciation of her melodious voice, which is of less consequence in delivering the flippant nonsense of the page than it might be in a more serious part. Mad. STRAKOSCH sustained very capably the ungracious rôle of Ulrica, which neither Alboni nor Adelaide Phillipps have been able to invest with much interest. BRIGNOLI was all himself, in his very best estate; very good humored, unusually animated; in perfect voice. What more can be said? Instead of Ferri as Renato we had MANCUSI, a new baritone; not very attractive. A careful painstaking singer, but having a dry, unsympathetic voice and an awkward and ineffective presence upon the stage. BARILI and DUBREUIL, as before, personated the conspirators, Sam and Tom, and very effectively do they portray this couple, of evil omen, who perpetually haunt the scene with forebodings of its impending catastrophe. These characters could hardly be in better hands. The choruses were as good as we usually are favored with, and the orchestra, under Mr. ANSCHUTZ, reliable and satisfactory. On Tuesday, the benefit to Mr. Ullman must have been more substantial than on the first evening. The weather was fairer, the bill of fare offered novelties, and the house was well filled. Les Noces de Jeannette, a pretty French operetta, by Victor Massé, which has had much success in Paris during the last year, was first upon the programme, and was sung (in French) by Miss KELLOGG and M. DUBREUIL, there being but two characters. The plot is simple and the music pretty and decidedly French. Miss Kellogg had good opportunity for showing the remarkable facility of her voice and often brought down the house. The Nightingale song, with flute obligato accompaniment, was admirably sung, nor could the audience be contented without its repetition. Her action was sprightly, and dress unexceptionable and appropriate. Her by-play was exceedingly spirited and lively, and would have done no discredit to one whose speciality it was to act in French vaudeville. She was well seconded, moreover by Dubreuil, who acted with spirit and intelligence, giving the music quite accep tably, although his voice is not all that could be desired in a part where so much depends on him. Then came Donizetti's Betly, another operatic trifle, of much the same character, containing many pretty passages, long familiar to concert goers. Miss Hinkley, Brignoli and Susini filled the characters. The libretto gave but little aid to the hearer, as the many cuts and alterations, rendered it quite impossible to follow the singers intelligently, trusting to its guidance. This too went off in an animated sprightly manner, Miss Hinkley being a quite charming Betly (on whose movements the interest chiefly turns,) while Brignoli and Susini were fairly entitled to their share of the applause with which the performance was rewarded. Why do not the strolling companies of operatic "artists take the hint that these performances give them, and, instead of treating us to concerts of hacknied songs, in their vacations, give some of these pleasant operettas of which there are so many, French and Italian? A simple scene, and two or three singers, with an orchestra, is all that is needed, so that the trouble and expense of getting them up would be but trifling, while the novelty of the entertainment would be sure to attract audiences who are weary of the stale programmes offered by the givers of opera Schubert's Musical Remains. Although perfectly well aware that it is but a waste of time-even in the best of times-for me to give a notice in the Journal of Music of any fine collection of rare books or manuscripts on sale, even for less than auction prices-knowing well that not a reader, even when no rebellion is drawing upon his resources, will pay the slightest attention to such an announcement as that which I am going to makestill I will make it, on the principle that one should not weary in well doing. Moreover I will wait a few weeks before making the announcement in England and Paris, so that Boston, New York, &c., may have the first chance. When Ferdinand Schubert died, two or three years since, he, like all teachers in Austria, necessarily left his family in very straightened circumstances. A mass of Mss. has been put into my hands to dispose of for that family's benefit, among which are several autographs of Franz Schubert. The most important of these are: The complete orchestra Score of "Alphonso and Estrella," an opera in three acts begun Oct. 21, 1821, and ended Feb. 27, 1822. Mass in G, in score, for four voices, small orchestra and organ with additional instruments by his brother Ferdinand. An operatic chorus and air, scored for full orchestra. Half a dozen Songs. There is much other music instrumental and vocal in the collection by him, but I cannot as yet decide whether it is written out by him, his brother or a copyist. Any reasonable offer for the Opera, the Mass or the Chorus and Air, would be accepted-no price is fixed. My own choice would be to have them go together in some permanent, public library. Vienna, Oct. 22, 1861. A. W. T. The composer of "Oberon" lies buried in the cemetery at Dresden in a handsome, though not showy, famil tomb, on which are inscribed the dates of his birth and death. At Prague, where there is an admirable theatre, and they have just produced Gonoud's "Faust," which is now making the tour of European lyrical stages; but it was my luck to reach these places on the off nights of the opera. Prague is a singularly beautiful place. An air of sad, barbaric grandeur seems to invest it. It is emphatically the city of statues. They stand in scrried rows upon the roofs of all the buildings, they adorn the streets and public places, they guard the old bridge in numbers that would seem incredible. Do you remember the story in Arabian Nights of the Enchanted City of Marble? The Caliph Haroun Alraschid is led to it through the vagaries of certain magical fish whose eccentric behavior during the operation of frying is, to say the least, very surprising. The Caliph finds a city all marble, the people petrified and not a living soul to be seen. Now Prague, if the people would only desert it, would be an admirable representative of the enchanted city, so large is its population of statues. There are warriors with their swords on the battlements and casernes; saints with the cross and popes with the triple tiara stand in solemn silence upon the churches; and on that wondrous bridge are religious groups telling in silent stone the great story of the Christian faith. I think that no one who strolls over this bridge at twilight and observes the living and the sculptured forms he meets there can forget the scene. Here a saint gazes at the crucifix - here Christoforus bears the Holy Infant on his shoulders -here a holy hermit peers out from a cave- here a ghastly skeleton stands, a perpetual memento mori · here is the Madonna, holding on her knees the dead Christ here is a Crucifixion, with a monk and a nun on either side, gazing in tearful anguish at the cross and in the centre of all is the dying Christ, while on the pedestal which supports this last are the solemn words: Oh! vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte si est dolor sicut dolor meus. Then as they approach this statue all the passers-by, priests or soldiers, peasants or nobles, citizens or strangers, remove their hats in solemn reverence to the holy idea symbolized by this solemn statue on the bridge. At Vienna I anticipated a series of musical treats, and my expectations were by no means fully met. I was disappointed to find that Strauss, the famous Strauss, and Musard, the gentlemanly Musard, instead of giving their celebrated concerts in superb and fashionable saloons, go around with their bands from one Beer Hall to another, as they may be engaged. Strauss is most often found at Schwender's, and Schwender's is nothing more than an immense guzzling shop, where the Viennese go to revel in beer and tobacco. To the guzzling shop are attached restaurants, a cheap theatre, a panorama, and a Ball Room; and here, instead of to elegant concert-rooms, must you go to hear the ravishing strains of Strauss' Band. For every waltz a German seems to need a quart of beer, while he can enjoy an opera selection only in a cloud of pipe smoke. Special Notices. DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF THE LATEST MUSIC. Published by Oliver Ditson & Co. Vocal, with Piano Accompaniment. The young volunteer. Song. T. B. Bishop 25 A taking, off-hand composition, which will cheer and amuse a great many. Fresh as a rose. Ballad. That reminds one of the opera. It is not firstclass at Vienna; at least, not as ultra first-class, not as A, No. 1 first-class, as you would expect in a city of such musical celebrity as Vienna. The building is absolutely shabby, but they have a novel arrangement in responding to the calls before the curtain. Instead of raising the curtain or instead of having the principal performers come out at the sides of the stage, the central part of the drop-curtain recedes, leaving a sort of alcove in which the performers may appear. I heard here Cherubini's Deur Journées, a peculiar and admirable work, the chief onus of which rests on the baritone, on this occasion a splendid singer and actor as you need wish to hear. His part of the old Water-carrier is semi-tragic and semi- Farewell, we meet no more. comic, and affords full opportunity for vocal and histrionic display. There are two tenors and two sopranos in the piece, but they have no solos allotted them, so that the opera is by no means calculated to "show off" the singers; but several of the concerted pieces are most beautiful and effective. The best music I heard at Vienna was in the fine old church of St. Augustin. The choir consisted of nearly a hundred men's voices, led by a dandyishlooking Kapelmeister, whose name begins with Ewretched being that I am, to remember only that letter of it and the mass performed was by somebody else beginning with E. A superb mass it was, especially the Benedictus. Yet almost any music would sound superbly interpreted by such a choir. The voices were under the most perfect control, and the pianissimo of this large chorus was, my ears told me, never equalled in their remembrance. Why, this choir sang such a simple thing as the familiar tune known as the "Sicilian Mariners' Hymn," with such M. W. Balfe. 25 Balfe has written no new Opera this season but he has been busy furnishing the London Concert-Balladists with new Songs, in which he has been very successful. This Song has become a great favorite in England. Quartet. S. R. Whiting. 25 A simple. but effective Quartet; just the thing to take up and read off at a chance social meeting of musical persons. The Beggar girl. For one or two voices. Piercy. 25 exquisite taste that it was indeed an apple of gold set Agathe. (When the swallows). Transcription. in a picture of silver. Our church choir singers would open their eyes as wide as saucers (and keep their mouths closely shut for shame) could they hear what this Viennese choir make out of "Sicily." Indeed, should the political troubles in America result in calling me to the permanent dictatorship of the Republic, my first care, after giving all my poor relations fat offices in remote quarters of the globe (and in unhealthy climates if possible), and hanging a few hundred traitors, will be to sel ct about two thousand choir singers from all the States, and send them abroad at the Government expense. First they should learn how to really sing the Messiah choruses, under Costa, in London; then they should study the English Cathedral music, as sung at Wells Cathedral; then they should go to Russia and learn the service of the Greek Church as heard at St. Isaac's, in St. Petersburg; then they should pass a year at Moscow, under the monks at the Donskoi Monastery; and going to Austria should finish under this excellent leader whose name begins with E; and then, returning to the Hub of the Universe, they would show Bostonians how " Sicily" can and should be sung. At Vienna, I was fortunate enough to meet with that old friend of the readers of Dwight's Journal, the "Diarist." He showed me a great batch of originals and copies of letters of Beethoven, which, for the last ten years he had been engaged in collecting and arranging; and now there is a fair prospect that the long promised "Life" will be actually com. menced. In the meantime the " Diarist" should be aeen oftener in the columns & Dwight's Journal, for though a little unsound as regards Verdi, and by no means so enthusiastic as he ought to be about that angelic Donizetti, the " 'Diarist," I am sure, is missed as much by all the readers of Dwight's as he is by TROVATOR. Books. THE AMERICAN MUSICAL CLASS BOOK. Designed for Female Colleges, Institutes, Seminaries, and Normal and High Schools. Containing Elementary Instructions, Vocal Exercises and Solfeggios, and a Valuable Collection of Duets, Trios, and Concerted Pieces. By Bissell. Among the numerous works of the kind this new candidate for popular favor cannot fail of ja promi. nence, since its peculiar features are such as will commend it at once to the patronage of those for whom it is chiefly intended. 1ts rudimental lessons proceed with a regularity of precision that cannot fail to fix permanently on the minds of the pupil the essentials of success in future studies. The exercises are in a form to attract the attention and the selection of music, one of the best if not the superior of all similar collections. Principals of Educational institutions, music teachers, and others interested in books of this class will find it advantageous to examine this vol ume. 50 MUSIC BY MAIL.-Music is sent by mail, the expense being about one cent on each piece. Persons at a distance will find the conveyance a saving of time and expense in obtaining supplies. Books can also be sent at the rate of one cent per ounce. This applies to any distance under three thousand miles; beyond that it is double. WHOLE NO. 505. BOSTON, SATURDAY, DEC. 7, 186 1. Mrs. Browning's Last Poem. THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH. HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S VISIT TO ITALY, MAY, 1861. 1. "Now give us lands where the olives grow," Cried the North to the South, "Where the sun with a golden mouth can blow Blue bubbles of grapes down a vineyard-row!" Cried the North to the South. "Now give us men from the sunless plain," Cried the South to the North, "By need of work in the snow and the rain Made strong, and brave by familiar pain !'' Cried the South to the North. 2. "Give luc der hills and intenser seas," "Give strenuous souls for belief and prayer," "That stand in the dark on the lowest stair, 3. "Yet oh, for the skies that are softer and higher!" Sighed the North to the South, - For the flowers that blaze, and the trees that And the insects made of a song or a fire!" "And oh, for a seer, to discern the same!" Franz Schubert. A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. From the German of DR. HEINRICH VON KREISSLE. His wife dying in the year 1813, he married again (in 1814) with Anna Müller of Vienna, and by this marriage he had five more children, of whom Maria, Josefa, Andreas and Anton lived. Franz passed his childhood in his father's house; but neither this, nor the next period of his short life is marked by any important event immediately concerning him. Under the eyes of his parents, in the circle of his brothers and sisters, he grew up in those limited relations which characterize the existence of a poor schoolmaster blessed with a large family. His musical bias made itself remarked at the earliest age and on the slightest occasions. The child was particularly attached to a journeyman joiner, who knew how to take him to a place where there were pianos, upon which the little Schubert got through | his first exercises without further introduction. Certainl yhis father took care to impart betimes to Franz, as he had done to the older sons, Ignaz and Ferdinand, the rudiments of general knowledge; and we may pass over his childhood's years the more lightly, since the seven-year-old boy already claims our full interest in a musical regard. The first instruction in music, and indeed in violin playing, he had from his father, who had also taught the older sons, Ignaz and Franz, in the same branches. In piano playing Ignaz gave him the first introduction, and finally the choirmaster (regens chori) Holzer undertook his farther development, both on the piano and in singing. Even at that time-Schubert was ten years old - Holzer regarded the knowledge of his young pupil with amazement and with tears of joy, and declared that it would be useles trouble to try to impart anything new to him, since he always knows it all before. "Often," said he," have I watched him in silent wonder; if I wanted to teach him something new, he knew it already.” Being now eleven years old, and possessing a beautiful soprano voice, he let himself be employed as a solo singer and violinist in the choir of the Lichtenthal parochial church; and ear-witnesses assure us he performed with fine and just expression. He composed too at that time little songs, piano pieces, and even string quartets. The father's efforts now succeeded in getting the boy into the imperial court chapel, whereby FRANZ (PETER) SCHUBERT was born on the he obtained a place as pupil in the Convict (re31st of January, 1797, at Vienna. His father, Franz Schubert, was the son of a peasant from Neudorf in Moravia. Coming to Vienna from Sonuenstädt to pursue his studies, he became in 1784 assistant to his brother, who was a teacher in the Leopoldstadt; and two years afterward, his good school qualifications won for him the position of teacher in the parish of the Heiligen 14 Nothhelfern in the Lichtenthal suburb. His first marriage, with Elizabeth Vitz of Silesia, was blessed with fourteen children, of whom only Ignaz, Ferdinand, Carl, Franz and Theresa lived. fectory). It was in October 1808, that Franz As might have been expected, Schubert's trial VOL. XX. No. 10. without more ado; and the uniform, with the golden border on it, to whose splendor Schubert was not insensible, helped to reconcile the boy to the bitter parting for some time to come from all who had hitherto stood near to him in life. He was now a singing boy in the imperial court kapelle; moreover, as he played the violin with tolerable facility, he was assigned to the little Convictists' orchestra so called, whose task it was in almost daily rehearsals to study some of the larger compositions, especially the Symphonies of Haydn and Mozart, and then the works of Beethoven, which were still regarded at that time with wonder, and to prepare performances. Of these pieces it was some Adagios from Haydn's Symphonies and the G minor Symphony* of Mozart, which made a deep impression on the serious boy, who was not particularly friendly to the world about him; but on hearing the Symphonies of Beethoven this impression rose to ecstacy. His partiality to these came out decided even then; but he was destined, as no other was, to emulate in ever prouder flights the master whom he looked up to as his beau ideal, while he preserved his own individuality completely. The Symphonies of Krommer, at that time liked for their lively character, found little favor in his eyes; while on the other hand he would defend those of Kotzeluch, when their somewhat antiquated style was ridiculed by the musicians, with much warmth-to be sure, only in comparison with Krommer's. He also counted among his favorites the Overture to the Zauberflöte, to the "Marriage of Figaro," and those by Mehul. Inevitably Schubert, soon raised by his talent and his earnest pursuit of his Art to the position of first violin in the little orchestra, gained no inconsiderable influence over it; in consequence of which, when the director happened to be absent, the leadership of the orchestra with the first violin devolved on him. At the same time, too, the creative impulse was awakened with an irresistible force in the boy of thirteen. Already he confided to his comrades, under seal of secrecy, that he frequently put his own thoughts into notes. Thoughts streamed in upon him in abundance, and he too often only wanted note paper, on which to fasten them. As he was not in a position to procure such for money, a kind friendly hand provided it, and his use of it seems to be have been altogether extraordinary. Sonatas, Masses, songs, operas, nay even Symphonies, according to the testimony of vouchers, lay ready finished at that time; although the greatest part was soon thrown away as mere experiment. In the year 1810 he had composed a Fantasia for four hands, filling not less than 32 pages, and containing over a dozen pieces conceived each in a different character, and each ending in a different key from that in which it began. This "Only hear the angels sing in it," he used to say. was followed later by two smaller ones. It was his first piano composition. In the year 1811 falls the composition of the song: "Hagar's Lament," of a string quartet, a second four-hand piano fantasia, a quintet overture dedicated to his brother Ferdinand, and many songs. (To be continued.) First Impressions Abroad. [The following letter, which we find in a recent number of the Transcript, is from a young lady artist of Boston, written on her way to Rome.] PARIS, FAUBOURG ST. GERMAIN. My Dear Friend: I shall not attempt to give you a description of my passage across the Atlantic, or of the mysterious disappearances and reappearances which were constantly taking place among the passengers. One transit is so like another, that except to those directly concerned, there is very little to interest in an ordinary passage, and ours was of that kind. We encountered neither shipwrecks nor pirates; indeed, we did not speak a vessel on the whole way out, and the icebergs, which were so kind as to show themselves, were at so great a distance as to render a little pleasurable fright on their account impossible. Of the passengers, 260 in number, a large proportion were foreigners, (Mexicans, Cubans and Spaniards), and consequently were much longer than usual thawing out. By the eighth day, however, the people became so well acquainted that they looked forward to the time of parting with regret. On Friday morning we came in sight of the coast of Ireland, and spent most of the day watching the changeful face of the country, with its wonderfully beautiful variations. Rightly was it named the Emerald Isle, for it is a green gem in the ocean. On Saturday afternoon, in the midst of a rain which seemed to fall without any effort on its part, we bade adieu to our fellow passengers, some of whom we expected to meet in London - some in Paris-others whom we hope to see in Rome this winter, and others, still, whom we expect to see, never again. Then we entered the steam tug, and in a short time were in Liverpool. I do not think I can ever feel so strange and forlorn in a foreign land as I did that day, although I was with kind and attentive friends. My companions all had friends expecting them. I alone knew nobody, was expected by no person. Since then I have been in large towns in France, hundreds of miles away from any person I had ever seen, an entire stranger, without hearing a word of English spoken for days, and was not lonely in the least; but that day, on first setting foot on English soil, I was miserable enough. My thoughtful friends had secured me a room at Mrs. Blodgett's, and when I found myself fairly housed there my sorrows vanished. I was so pleasantly situated, so kindly cared for, that I soon felt quite at home. Americans coming to Liverpool will be very fortunate if they can gain admittance to the excellent private boarding house of kind Mrs. Blodgett, Duke strect. She is so well known that the number is unnecessary. On Monday, after visiting Chantrey's fine statue of Canning, in the Town Hall, and Gibson's statue of Huskinson, in front of the Custom House, I went up to London. We passed through Chester, one of the few walled towns still remaining in England-through Coventry, so famous for its legend of Lady Godiva. The ducking of "Peeping Tom" was annually celebrated there until two years ago, since which time it has been discontinued. I saw the turrets of Warwick Castle, and I was told also those of Kenilworth -passed through that modern "inferno," Birmingham, and by the sweetest, quaintest little towns that ever sat to artist for their pictures, and arrived in London at nightfall. The next morning I took a cab and went in search of some acquaintances, who were not a little surprised to see me. During the fortnight I remained in London I saw many things of interest. Although I was constantly on the wing when well enough to be out, I of course left very much unseen. On my way out to Sydenham to carry letters to American friends, who were in that vicinity, I heard in the railway carriage that Grisi was to take her farewell of the stage at the Crystal Palace that afternoon. So I would not let so good an opportunity pass, but accepted the invitation of the pleasant English party who were in the carriage with me, and, thanks to their kindness, saw and learned much in a short space of time. The stage was beautifully decorated; the names of Grisi's favorite rôles, and those of the operas to which they belonged, were wreathed with beautiful flowers, and formed a semicircle around the musicians,-in the centre and di rectly behind the singers, the word Addio, in large letters, and also beautifully garlaned with flowers, told the cause of the immense concourse of private carriages which crowded the entrances to the building. I was told that most of the nobility in London were there. Certainly it was the largest and finest audience I ever saw there or elsewhere,11,174 persons were said to have been present that afternoon; yet so large and so finely proportioned was the building, that they only occupied a comparatively little spot in the centre. A score of celebrated singers, male and female, assisted at the concert, but the voices were almost lost in the immense arches. Grisi was enthusiastically received by her vast andience. She has been a great favorite with the English people, and now that her voice is going, it is to be hoped that she will rest content with her past laurels, and let this farewell be really her last upon the stage. After I had heard Grisi and Mario sing, I wandered off into a distant part of the Palace, beyond the sound of the music or the sight of the crowd. After a while I found myself in Pompeii, (you must know that parts of cities are reproduced there with all their buildings, and yet there is still room enough to spare,) where I encountered a small party of ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by some beautiful children. They were Grisi, Mario, their children and a few friends. She looked older and more care-worn than I expected to find her, but there was a fine frank way with her that I liked much. She seemed fond of her little Ma rionets," as she calls them. I cannot attempt a description of that wonderful structure, the Crystal Palace. It transcends in beauty the most gorgeous description in the Arabian Nights. Aladdin's wonderful palace could not have been as beautiful, and its contents are as varied as they are remarkable. North, South, East and West, lend their richest and rarest productions to enhance the beauty of the already beautiful structure. Tropical trees and shrubs, fruits and flowers, are inhabited by birds of joyous plumage, which flit hither and thither at their own sweet will, and mingle their songs with the cool, refreshing murmurs of the many fountains. Arts, Sciences, Manufactures, everything is there represented in such a way that the beholder can learn there in a few hours by observation more than he could glean from books in years. It is truly an epitome. I visited Hampton Court Palace, built by Cardinal Wolsey in the time of Henry VIII. It is built of brick, is kept in good repair, and contains, besides many other fine works of the old masters, the orig inal Cartoons of Raphael. In the National Gallery I saw some of the works of the old masters for the first time, and did not wonder in the least at the great The admiration which they have always excited. gallery was not open to the public the day I went there, but my escort, a Boston gentleman well known in the literary and musical world, explained to the janitor that we were strangers, whose time was limited, so we were admitted. While we were there, Lord John, the newly created Earl of Russell, came in and looked at the pictures while I looked at him. A small, common looking man, with a quiet, unpretending manner; there was nothing in his appearance to command attention, or to indicate that in him we beheld one of England's greatest statesmen. A number of artists of both sexes were copying in the different rooms. We had a long conversation with a lady who was copying one of Turner's landscapes with much success, and ascertained from her that fany person by painting a tolerably good picture and submitting it to the committee appointed for such purposes, could have the privilege of studying the noble works of art contained in the National Gallery free of expense. She also said that the number of students who availed them selves of the privilege was much greater in years past than at the present time. At Kensington Museum I found that the same liberality is exercised toward art students, Queen Victoria and the members of her court lending the rarest and most valuable objects of art and virtue to the institution for the benefit of the pupils of the School of Design for Women, which is established there. I did not know until after my return to the city that the school was there at times I could have visited it. It is now under the patronage of the Queen, who recently ordered some lace to be manufactured from the design of one of the pupils. The Palace for the Exhibition of 1862 is only a few steps from the Museum, and is a very fine struc ture. Americans will be pleased to know that Miss Hosmer's noble statue of Zenobia is to be exhibited there. Many of the London artists were out of town, but I visited the studios of several who had not escaped to the quiet of the woods and hills, aud found much to admire. The studio of J. H. Foley, the sculptor, interested me more than any I have visit ed as yet. And I saw many very nice things in that of Mr. Durham. Mrs. Bodichon, who visited Ameriea two years since, and whose remarkable water colors paintings were so much liked by many of our connoisseurs, has been making rapid progress in her own country, where good artists and good pictures are anything but rare. Her recent pictures of Algeria, where she spends her winter months, are quite remarkable. Her sister, Miss Anna Smith, has also been painting some admirable things; two paintings especially struck me, or rather one subject treated in two different ways. A young Moorish girl is kneeling beside a fountain,the waters of which are dried up. The accessories are simple but all in keeping. The empty water jar-the useless cords by which it was to be lowered-the arid sands and the scorched vegetation, combined with the utter hopelessness in the attitude af the child, made it one of the most touching pictures I ever saw. I also met Miss Margaret Gillies, the engraving of whose paintings, the Past and Future," The Heavens are Telling," and various other well known pictures, are so very popular in America. I saw on her easel another beautiful figure piece, which is to be published in New York, when times are better. A few fine heads by Mrs. Bridell, whose husband is a noted landscape painter, were the last works I saw in London of noted lady artists. I heard much of the works of Mrs. Wells, who died in the spring of this year. I was not so fortunate as to see any of her works, and was just a week too late for the annual Exhibition of Fine Arts; but all whom I met spoke in the highest terms of her excellence, both as a woman and an artist; and her early death seemed to be regarded as a national loss. By the advice of friends, I took the New Haven route to Paris via Dieppe, and had no reason to regret my decision. It was cheaper than the other routes, and then we passed through Rouen, the town of all others I most wished to see, and our tickets gave us several days of grace, so that we might stop by the way and see what we chose. I left London at 9 o'clock, and reached New Haven at twelve. Took the steamer there for France, and after a pleasant passage across the English Channel, arrived at Dieppe about 4 o'clock P. M. I had no baggage except a carpet bag, as I registered my trunk in London, and it had gone on to Paris, there to remain until such time as I should go and claim it. Strange enough it was to be in a land where no English was spoken. I followed the other passengers, and found myself in the Custom House, as I expected. They did not ask for my passport, and merely asked if I had anything prohibited. I said no; asked for the omnibus to the Chemin de Fer for Rouen. Entered it and then breathed freely. I had tried my French and found I could make myself understood, and knew I should be in time for the next train. At 7 o'clock reached Rouen, where I passed the night and spent part of the next day in seeing the quaint old town, with its wonderful gothic Cathedral of Notre Dame, which contains the heart of Richard Coeur de Lion, and the beautiful church of St. Ouen (prouounced St. Wan) ;) and last but not least the square where the brave Jeanne d'Arc was burnt to death by order of the cruel Duke of Bedford, who lies buried in the Cathedral a little distance beyond. The town is very old and as picturesque as one can well imagine. Pierre Corneille was born here, and a statue is erected to him on one of the bridges. I was constantly losing my way and constantly asking every body where it was, and always got along swimmingly, not because I am such a good linguist, but because the French are so very quick of apprehension. In the afternoon I took the cars for Paris, re getting that I had not time to make an excursion to Chateau Galliard, so celebrated in French history; but I knew if I stopped for that I should lose the Emperor's féte, and that I could not give up. So I bid adieu to Rouen, and in a few hours found myself in this delightful city of Paris. Au revoir. M. F. F. Music and Sculpture in Munich. (Correspondence of the London Athenæum. October 23.) Rather more than a year ago, I read a statement in the Athenaeum that Haydn's long-absent oratorio, "Il Ritorno di Tobia," was shortly to be performed in Munich. Since that time, however, it has given neither sign nor sound till now, when it is promised for the opening concert of the Advent series. I trust this time the promise may be fulfilled, and that the year's interval may be fruitful as regards the execution of the work. Strangely enough, the same time has elapsed since another work of art was mentioned in your columns, which also has just now been exhibited. I speak of Mr. Randolph Rogers's gate for the Capitol of Washington, which was cast in |