took place in 1845, in Bonn, on the occasion of the inauguration of Beethoven's statue, under the direction of Louis Spohr; the second in 1855, in Cologne, under the direction of Mr. Ferdinand Hiller. In the fall of the same year, Conductor Rühl, at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, succeeded in bringing out the colossal work. In March, 1856, there was a fourth performance by Stern's Singing Club in Berlin, and in November, Mr. Franz Larhner, in Munich, undertook the fifth performance. Since then it has been heard several times in Frankfort, Berlin, and Munich. But we must still mention a performance in the Dome of Freiburg, in Baden, in August, 1857, being the first in which it was given as a high mass. Portions of the work have been frequently performed in different parts of Germany, but we do not think the number of performances of the whole in that country for the last thirty years exceeds twelve. A few years ago, two performances of the whole mass took place in London.

In December, 1824, Beethoven received, for the second time, an invitation to go to London. The invitation came from the Philharmonic Society in London. The letter containing the following was written by Mr. Charles Neate:

"The Philharmonic Society is willing to pay you three hundred guineas for your visit, expecting that you will yourself conduct the performances of your works, of which one must be heard in every concert. It is also expected that you will write a symphony and a concerto, to be performed during your visit, and which afterwards you may regard as your property. You might give a concert, which will bring you at least $2,500; besides, there are many opportunities to derive profit from your talent and your reputation. If you bring the quartets with you, that will be $500 more to you, so that you may rest assured you will make a good deal of money, and I do not see why you should not be able to take enough from here to make your future life more pleasant and comfortable to you. I hope you will answer immedi ately, and say that you accept these propositions. At the same time, I profit by this occasion to tell you that I am your sincere friend, and that you will be surrounded here by a great many persons who will improve every opportunity to show their esteem and admiration of the great Beethoven, whose fame shines more than ever in this country."

It is to be lamented that Beethoven was prevented from accepting these propositions. A short absence from Vienna, with all the miseries it must have incessantly caused him just then, could not fail to be beneficial to his health, not to speak of the pecuniary and artistic advantages a journey to England would have brought him. Instead of all this he was forced to be worried by the bad conduct and ingratitude of his nephew, for whom he felt the love of a parent. There is no doubt that most of the difficulties in which Beethoven found himself may be attributed to his family relations, and we are equally confident that the only instance in his life of conduct not quite honorable on his part, had its cause in the trouble his brother and nephew gave him. We refer to his promise to write an Oratorio for the "Society of the Friends of Music of the Austrian Empire," and, after receiving some money on account for it, not keeping his promise. Strange to say, a demoniac love of money seized Beethoven at this period, and for no other purpose than to leave it to his nephew, who was entirely unworthy of such devotion. It is said that a young man of the name of Karl Holz, who assisted in the Schuppanzigh Quartet, a man of musical knowledge, but a fast liver, and especially a great accountant, exercised a disastrous influence upon Beethoven at that time, so much so, that for a few months the master apparently gave up every principle of that purity of feeling which had always distinguished him. Bet this as it may, it is one consolation that this aberration lasted only from the fall of 1825 to the summer of 1826. It was during this time that three of his five last quartets were written—those very compositions which have been considered by some the greatest illustrations of his genius, and by others as the emanations of a madman, These quartets were the one in B, op. 131 (and not 130, as it is classified in the catalogues), that in C-sharp minor, op. 152 (and not 131), and that in F, op. 133 (and not 135).

(To be Continued.)

NEW YORK, JAN. 19, 1861.

MUSIC IN NEW YORK.

THERE have been several concerts during the last fortnight, most of them given in the new concert room, Irving Hall. As we had not the pleasure of seeing the Hall on any of these occasions well filled, we are sorry to say, that its acoustics did not strike us to be particularly good. That is, we were told, that this latter requisite in a concert room will be fully exhibited in the new Hall, as soon as it is jammed, a consolation which offers most brilliant prospects to artists as well as to the proprie tors of the Hall, especially this winter. Miss Hawley's concert was fa vored by a good audience, who were evidently very much pleased with the performances of the lady, as well as with her really fine alto voice. The Mendelssohn Union, conducted by Mr. Morgan, assisted; Mr. Simpson sang, Mr. Appy played the violin, and Mr. Beale performed on the piaco the fantasia in F-sharp minor, by Mendelssohn, and Thalberg's "Home, sweet home." Mr. Beale showed a considerable amount of technical ability, but the too frequent use of the Pedal, as well as the lack of suf ficient light and shade, marred the impression of his performance.

The Second Annual Concert of the Seventh Regiment Band, under direction of Mr. Theodore Thomas, took place in the Academy of Music. Mad. Colson and Mrs. Mozart, and Messrs. Stigelli and Formes assisted. The Band with Mr. Grafulla as conductor, performed some very impressive music, in which the "Recollection of Camp Scott," had no smail share. The "Peas on the Trencher, 5.50 A. M.," the "Roast Beef at 12 M.,” and the "Call for Supper," (especially the latter,) produced an irresistible effect.

We are sorry to say, that Mr. Stigelli's Farewell Benefit at the Academy of Music attracted only very few persons, although on this occasion, he shed the light of "the brightest eyes.' The fact of the matter is, that our public just at present is not well disposed to stand three evils at a time, viz.: snow storm, a performance of "Stradella," and hard times. Mr. Stigelli goes to Havana; let us hope, that his real and great inerits as a musician, as well as a singer, will find there full and just appreciation.

OPENING OF THE BROOKLYN ACADEMY OF MUSIC.

OUR neighbors across the water have at last received from the hands of their wealthy citizens a building, which they call ACADEMY OF MUSIC, and which in size appears to be a little larger than our Winter Garden. In fact, it looks very much like any ordinary theater on Broadway, with this difference, that we have seldom seen in any building of this kind, such ! a profusion of red and brown colors. There is, however, a certain odor of primitiveness about these decorations, which recalls to our mind some very pleasant experiences in Swiss theaters, and which must have certainly a charm for every pure-minded individual, who is anxious to | combine as much as possible, the theatrical with the natural.

The opening consisted of a speech and a concert. The speech was delivered (as we learn from the Herald) by Mr. Chittenden. This gen tleman informed the somewhat astonished audience, who, by the bye, were not too numerous, that this "Academy of Music" was no theater, but a place where music could be heard, where meetings and lectures could be held, where operas will be given, etc. He emphatically stated, that "this building will never be let for any theatrical purpose," but we add according to the daily papers, to Mr. Rarey and his horses, and also to the Muzio Troupe, in order to present to the Brooklynites the soul elevating musical drama of "La Traviata." The orator, on this occasion. further remarked, that the "Academy of Music " was built by Brooklyn mechanics, with Brooklyn money, and intended to be a strictly Brooklyn institution. It is true, they had gone to New York for an architect,

but this was not done because they had not in Brooklyn architects, who were just as good as those in New York, but it was done "as an act of kindness." After having said a good deal more, which it is impossible for us to record, the orator finished by invoking "the blessings of Heaven" on the Brooklyn institution in question.

As to the concert, conducted by Messrs. Eisfeld and Muzio, it was rather a dull and uninteresting affair. Whether it was the weather, or the speech, it is enough to say, the singers presented on this occasion the hackneyed music in a more or less bungling manner. Signor Coletti, who replaced Signor Susini, murdered the wellknown aria Leporello's "Madamina," and even Mad. Colson nearly broke down with her often sung Bolero from the "Sicilian Vespers." It is true, this was owing more to the conductor, Signor Muzio, and to the uncalled-for applause of some officious people, who thought they had to bring in their verdict as often as possible; but Mad. Colson might have easily avoided the whole occurrence, if she had for once selected another concert piece than this Bolero, which she certainly can sing very well, but which she has sung almost as often as she has appeared in concerts. But what shall we say about Signor Brignoli? Nothing, but that he has grown in body, and that he has in concert still more graceful manners than those which lend such an indescribable charm to his appearance in opera. As to his artistic merits, they are just the same as years ago, when he came to us. He has the same difference of color in voice, the same faulty breathing, and the same manner of singing by fits and starts, which has always characterized his performances. Amongst the instrumental pieces, we noticed a meritorious Polonaise by Mr. Eisfeld.

the artists here (Paris) whom I have heard, that the technics are much better cultivated than intellectuality, else he would have performed before a company of artists something better and more artistic than these artificial trifles. But it is really surprising how everybody here, young as well as old people, are anxious to shine by mere mechanical ability, and persons, in whom perhaps is the germ of something better, practice through entire years a single piece, which has no artistic merits at all. That such proceedings must kill the spirits, and that such people cannot become much better than musical automata is easily seen."

"But will you believe it, when I assure you, that even the worthy master Cherubini has been tainted by the bad example, and that in his Masses the theatrical style is often predominant. It is true he compensates in such places often by fine and effective music; but who can enjoy this, if he does not succeed in forgetting entirely where he hears it! What would this man have written, if he had always composed for Germans, instead of Frenchmen!"

"The next morning, when I visited Mendelssohn, (in Dusseldorf), and met his sister there, he played to me the first numbers of his oratic Paulus,' in which only that displeased me which was too much formed after Handel's style. On the other hand, he, as well as his sister, seemed to be pleased with my concertino in E, in which a peculiar staccato appears as something, which he had not heard by other violinists. When he in a very skillful manner accompanied me from the score, he could not hear too often this staccato, and begged me again and again to repeat it, saying to his sister, 'Look, that is the celebrated staccato by Spohr, which no other violinist can imitate!'"

HAYDN IN LONDON in the years 1791 and 1792. Under this title, a little pamphlet has been published in Vienna, by Mr. Karajan. It treats of Haydn's residence in London from January 1791 till the summer of 1792, and gives an interesting description of the intrigues with which the great master had to contend, as well as the honors he earned, and the unchanging mildness and winning charms of temper he constantly exhibited. We are also inforined, that Haydn received from the Oxford University, the title of Musical Doctor, an honor which Handel was offered, and declined, as may be seen from the second volume, just published, of Chrysander's biography.

A strange episode of his residence in London is the following: On Monday, March 26th, 1792, he was invited to a private concert at a Mr. Barthelemen's, to which he refers in his diary in the following manner: "There was an English clergyman present, who, when he heard my Andante in G, sank into the deepest melancholy, because during the previous night he had dreamt that such an Andante would announce to him his death. He immediately left the party, went to bed, and to-day, April 25th, I learnt from Mr. Barthelemen, that this clergyman had died."

The pamphlet also contains a great number of letters which Haydn wrote to Mrs. Von Genzinger, the wife of the medical attendant to the prince Estahazy, in whose service also Haydn was, a lady of so much musical ability, that she altered a good many full scores by Haydn, into piano scores. Haydn affirins in one of these letters (a fact which was however well known), that only after his sixtieth year was he freed from misery, that is to say, he had learnt to enjoy the comforts of life only since going to England.

A valuable addition to this little pamphlet is a thematic catalogue of those twelve symphonies Haydn wrote in London for Saloman's concerts, in 1791 and 1792.

SPOHR ON HENRY HERZ, CHERUBINI AND MENDELSSOHN.

"The young pianist, Herz, performed Variations by himself on a theme from the "Swiss Family," and then the well-known Variations by Moscheles on the Alexander March. The extraordinary execution of this young man is astonishing; but it seems to be with him, as with all

ON THE PIANO-FORTE.

Translated from F. Wieck's " Clavier und Gesang," by Fanny Malone Raymond. Without giving my opinion as to the English and German mechanism, and the peculiar superiorities of each, I shall proceed to the principal points: quality of tone, and of touch. The touch must never be

1. Stiff; but elastic, pliant, and firm. More or less difficult-but that matters less; it should depend on the age and strength of the player. For he (or she) must master the instrument; the instrument must not master him. If the touch is stubborn, stiff and unequal, requiring an extraordinary exertion of strength, and if the fall of the keys is too deep, and the measure of the octave too wide, the scholar falls a victim to the instrument, and misses his aim.

2. Tone, (and in this matter, the formation of tone in the human voice must always be in our thoughts.) The tone must never exhaust itself. I mean by this, to say :-that when I play, even very loudly, with a correct, slack touch, this feeling must enter the hearer's mind, "If he played still louder, the tone would sound still louder, and fuller." It is the same thing with songstresses. An exhausted tone, that reminds one of finiteness, and that seems to preclude all further increase, is not pleasing. I know well that all our operatic songstresses will laugh at me, the applauding public will give me the lie, and the music of the future will pity such stand still ears. Ah, if those three little requisites,

did not exist!

Fine taste,
Deep feeling,
Delicate hearing,

3. The leather must be neither too soft, too hard, or too close. A keen,

sharp tone soon reaches its own boundary; it is rough, unpleasant, easily damaged, does not permit sufficient shading, and leads to a childish manner of playing. And too soft a tone, one with which the player is always strug gling, injures intelligibility in every way, and, besides, ruins a good touch in the player. A good leathering is the best decoration that a piano-forte can

have.

4. The tone must have marrow; inward strength and decision. A hollow, seemingly pleasant, soft, sweet, violet blue tone is nothing, leads to nothing, expresses nothing; it takes away all language from play—and then all is over with the player. The strong stringing of to day, provided that the whole measurement stands in proper proportion, and that the touch permits a fine light and shade, gives to the tone something satisfying, mellow, and manly, and is a great step in the construction of instruments.

5. The octaves must stand in perfectly equal proportions to each other. A finely cultivated human voice give us the example here again. If any one says: "My piano has a very fine bass," so much the worse, unless the upper and middle registers are not sufficiently telling, in regard to color and quality of tone. If any one says, “My daughter has studied in Paris, and acquired an extraordinarily fine chest-register"--so much the worse, if the other registers are not equally fine—or if, through the unnatural forcing process, they have been injured and compressed. Irregularity of tone in a piano-forte spoils the finest playing, and makes a player, one even of intelligence and feeling, anxious, uncertain, and timid about his own attainments.

6. The tone should resound, and continue, easily, and immediately, through every grade of strong and soft. This is sonority; the charm that captivates every unprejudiced, cultivated man; a charm that no Hegelian Terminology can babble away. This leads one again to the human voice. A voice, that when you are near it, sounds full, soft, and even youthful—or rather that seems to sound so-but that remains too long in the throat and mouth; and does not resound instantaneously, without using too much breath; that does not create and sustain the tone firmly, using little or no breath;to such a voice, grace, charm, soul-full enchantment is wanting. It awakens no lasting interest, no peculiar sympathy. On the contrary, one's pleasure in such a voice lessens with every heaving. I would instance the voices of Tichatschek in Dresden, and the less cultivated one of Mrs. Günther-Bachmann in Leipzig; these voices in the course of many years, have not lost their power of attraction. And what greater example can be given, than the not great, not strong, not imposing-the hoarse, slightly veiled, lacking in depth,—and yet the voice that has possessed, a magical power over almost all humanity, the voice of Lind? I have spoken my opinion more at large, and I now repeat it; that an instantaneously resounding tone, even when not of imposing quality, developes into a mellow endurance, even in the largest theatres; while the apparently strong throat voices, if they—or because they must-over-exert themselves, are wanting in effect, and create a childish impression in the piano passages. Such is the case with piano-fortes, if the tone sticks in resounding, and returns upon itself (throat-tone), instead of developing outwardly (sonorous tone). The violin players, whose sense of hearing, and appreciation of tone is not on the decline, as among our finger-heroes of to-day, will best understand me. They do not seek one of the early manufactured Straduari or Guarnerio violins, although it may sound strong and effective in the chamber; they seek for playing in large localities, an old, apparently even weaker violin, even by Steiner, because the tone is sonorous, and, above all, easily produced. This quality of tone should be regarded in the choice of a piano; although they must not be selected for age. For the new instruments have improved in quality of tone, since the sounding boards are more pliable and singing, and the leather is more supple.

7. Square pianos, pianinos, f. c., are only half-measures. To be perfect, a thing must be entire. These instruments have not sufficient substance, and can never satisfy; no bravura-playing is possible on them.

8. What is the use of a good, new grand piano-forte, if we believe that all is ended with the purchase, and that tuning is only necessary every two or four months, after the pitch has fallen half a tone? Pianos, by good and esteemed manufacturers, who possess properly seasoned wood, an abundance of the best materials, and excellent workmen, are sent out in good order, and never out of tune. New grand piano-fortes should be looked to once every seven to fourteen days, and carefully handled by a tuner possessing a very delicate ear, and a thorough acquaintance with the instruments. It is desirable that the tuner should place the tuning key firmly and perpendicularly on the pin, and not allow it to move; let the strings down at once before tuning, and not draw them up and down until they are correct. An instru. ment that is not kept in the same good tune in which it was sent out, loses something of its value day by day; it cannot be drawn up to pitch, and is only occasionally in perfect tune. We know well how good tuners (of whom unfortunately there are too few) torment themselves and others for hours together, trying to tune these carelessly kept piano-fortes. And such tuning is especially trying in changeable weather. A tuner, before one of our seven-octave modern piano-fortes, resembles Sisyphus, upon whom the stone rolled down again, when he had almost got it to the top of the mountain. This difficulty would not arise if the instrument was kept continually up to pitch by a regular and experienced tuner.

much used, and therefore liable to be dusty. In winter this is still more necessary, and then an equal degree of heat is advisable. For dust is the | declared enemy of all mechanism; but moisture and immoderate heat far exceed dust in evil results.

9. As a player with a stiff arm and inflexible wrist can never draw a full, noble tone from the piano-forte,- —so such a one, with his senseless thumping, is certain to destroy any mechanism, no matter how carefully, how delicately it may be put together. Therefore, on this account also, it is necessary for the player to cultivate a correct, flexible touch.

I will close these remarks with one general observation. People ask vir tuosi good and bad, of good or bad reputation, those who practise much or little, cultivated and uncultivated amateurs, rich and poor musicians, crea. tive or non-creative composers: "How are you pleased with your instrument?" and they answer: "I am perfectly satisfied with it."-Well! I am not satisfied! They are nearly all unequal, injured piano-fortes, scarcely ever permitting a healthy, really artistic and effective use to be made of them, because their quality of tone is so inferior. They are more or less, old or new, jingle-boxes, in which none of the hammers strike precisely where they should,—that will rarely stand long in tune,—and that possess different varieties of a stiff, uncertain touch. I can never sympathize with the "inward being" and "true spirit" of such piano-fortes. Perhaps they "Piano-fortes of the future?" My old friend was right—" Fain would I on with onward rolling time—but it is not possible."

are

THE ENTERPRISING IMPRESARIO.
(From the London Musical World.)

WOULD you see the impresario in trouble-a cloud of thunder on his brow -the victim of despair? Watch him when he hears that his popular primo tenore, or the favorite prima donna, is indisposed. The opera which is drawing crowded houses has to be changed or sung by a substitute not attractive to the public. The manager may for a while have thrown the reins of gov ernment carelessly aside, a flourishing account from the box office having increased his appetite for a good dinner, at which he is comfortably seated. A delicate little note is handed to him (whether from a tenor or prima donna does not signify; they both indulge in similarly diminutive-sized envelopes). It is opened; the manager turns pale as he peruses the contents; a few incoherent sentences escape his lips; his dinner and peace of mind for four and twenty hours are irremediably ruined. The delicate little note informs him that a change of opera is unavoidable. The soup is left untouched; he hastens to the theater; his secretary is forthwith despatched to summon other artists; the call-boy runs for his life to the printer; instructions are given to the door-keepers, scene-shifters, in fact to the entire establishment, to prepare for the emergency. A bill is drawn up, expressing the regret of the "management" (why the impresario of an Italian Opera insists upon calling himself the "management," I know not) in being obliged to announce a change in the performance of the evening, Signora so-and-so being unable to appear. The secretary returns, having had a furious drive to all the outskirts of London (singers, strange to say, in this country, always manage to live as far away as possible from their place of business, the theater), and finds the manager pacing his room in an agony of disappointment and uncertainty. Sometimes the secretary has been successful, and tranquilizes bis chief with words of consolation. Sometimes, however, it is otherwise; and he is the bearer of anything but satisfactory intelligence; the artists he has sought may not have been to be found, or, if found, are equally unable to appear as the singer whose illness is the cause of all the difficulty. The impresario is now in what is populary called a “quandary," and uncertain whether to open the theater or not. Generally matters are so arranged that it is unnecessary to resort to the last alternative; but the impresario's appetite and dinner are spoiled, and his temper pretty considerably ruffled. The chances are, moreover, that he is abused by the aristocratic habitués of the stalls, and the democratic frequenters of the pit, for not keeping faith with the public, neither aristocrat nor democrat considering for one moment that it is the singer's throat that is sore, and not that of the impresario, who would willingly sing soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass, were it in his power to do so to the satisfaction of the aforesaid grumblers. Strange contretemps will sometimes happen on such occasions. Artists who were not to be found when wanted will arrive at the last moment, after others have been persuaded to sing for them. I remember such an occurrence at Covent Garden some years ago. Illness had necessitated a change of opera, and "Il Barbiere" was to be given instead of the one originally announced.