ser will be paid in future, by the more frequent performance of so fine a specimen of the English school of composition.

In the miscellaneous part that followed, Miss Hawes sang the air from Samson," Return, O God of Hosts!" with appropriate expressisn; but we must quarrel with the conductor for the omission of the beautiful chorus, "To dust, his glory," which forms the proper completion of the movement in the score, and which, though but rarely brought forward, is one of the finest models of solemn harmonies applied to the illustration of peculiar phrases in poetry, in all Handel's works. We never can forget the effect of this chorus at Exeter Hall.

In the sacred scena of W. H. Callcott, entitled "The last man,” we admired Mr. Phillip's polished and manly style of singing more than the composition itself; the latter appeared monotonous and uninteresting.

Cherubini's charming motett, "Hear my prayer" (taken from a Latin offertorium, "Ave Maria"), presented us with one of the most delicate and refined pieces of scoring that we heard during the whole festival. It was very tastefully sung by Miss Woodyatt, and delightfully accompanied by Willman; except in a little trip he made in the time, by playing a passage of semi-quavers as if they had been

quavers.

After Haydn's favourite national "Hymn to the emperor" (which was encored) Mr. Machin sang Handel's bass song, “He layeth the beams;" succeeded by the chorus, "Cherub and Seraphim;" the points of imitation in which were not taken up with sufficient promptitude and decision by the singers, who appeared to be not well acquainted with the piece, or not to have rehearsed it with proper care. And then Mr. Bennett sang the tenor song, "Lord, remember David." We remember having heard this beautiful specimen of the placid cantabile style sung in the utmost perfection by Harrison, at the ancient concerts; but he always sang it to the original words, "Rendi il seren' al ciglio," and in the original key, в five sharps. Mr. Bennett judiciously followed his example in the latter instance, instead of adhering to the more modern practice of transposing it a semi-tone lower, to B flat.

Next came the most brilliant performance of the morning, the song "From mighty kings," which Mrs. Salmon used to sing with so great an effect, that it was supposed she had made the song entirely her own, and that no one else would ever again attempt it in public; but Clara Novello has evidently studied every phrase of the

melody with the greatest care; and she has succeeded in giving the song a new reading of her own, which is of a much more spirited and triumphant character than what has hitherto been given to it by other singers. We have noticed in the foreign papers that she introduced it, not only at Mendelssohn's Leipsic concerts, where it was enthusiastically encored, but that she has sung it at Berlin, Vienna, and all over Germany, where it has constantly been more popular than any of her other Handelian songs. On the present occasion there was such a demand for its repetition, that the bishop again came forward to express the general desire. After the beautiful and pathetic air by Pergolesi, " Sanctum et terribile nomen" -better known as set to the English words "Lord, have mercy upon me"-in which Sig. Tamburini produced little or no effect, especially upon those who, like ourselves, can remember the absolutely perfect manner in which Bartleman used to breathe forth this earnest prayer, the morning's performances were delightfully terminated by Beethoven's masterly chorus, "Hallelujah," from the " Mount of Olives."

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Thursday Evening.-The third evening concert took place in the Hall, which was the old "refectory" in the days of the jolly monks, and it is one of the finest rooms for sound we were ever in. It is to be regretted that modern architects do not study the principles of acoustics with more attention, when employed to build a concertroom, and endeavour to find out what proportions are the most favourable for the proper increase and propagation of musical sounds, without degenerating into an echo, or such a reverberation of the different discords and harmonies as to produce indistinctness and confusion. We have heard a good judge of such things say that the best proportions for a music room are those of a double cube; and we incline to think he is about right, as the justice of his theory is strongly corroborated by the fact of the Guildhall in London being one of the very finest rooms in the kingdom for the effect of music (as was acknowledged by all the professors present on the occasion of the grand concert given there a few years since, for the benefit of the Spanish refugees), and that the Guildhall is built very nearly in the proportions of the double cube.

The most prominent features this evening were Cherubini's overture to "Anacreon;" a song, by Miss Clara Novello, of Mercadante's, admirably sung in the Italian style: but as she had already exhibited that she was mistress of this school of vocalization, and that she could give the requisite effect to the present Italian opera music, as well as to the oratorio school of Handel, if she chose to do

so, in compliance with the fashionable taste of the day, we wish she had indulged us with one of the sterling airs of the most enchanting of all composers-Mozart, instead of the bravura by Mercadante. We could have wished to select the "Non pui di fiori” from “La clemenza di Tito," which, now that we have lost the inimitable Malibran, no one can sing so well as Miss Novello. We should have been the more interested in hearing this particular air, as we have heard that the last time she sang it, was to Mozart's widow, when she visited her at Salzburg last year, and when the latter could not repress her tears and emotion, but at last caught the singer in her arms, declaring she had not been so much affected by any musical performance since her husband's death.

Blagrove's violin concerto was a still more effective performance than the one of the preceding night, and elicited great and well-deserved applause.

The song of young Wesley's, though remarkably well sung by Phillips, rather disappointed us: we expected a more musician-like production from the pen of one who is said to inherit so large a portion of his father's genius.

In the air" Batti batti" (injudiciously transposed to G, instead of retaining the original key of F) Mad. Persiani was too violent: she appeared to have totally forgotten the text, where the poet makes her say "La tua povera Zerlina! starò qui come Agnellina." But her loud tone and boisterous manner by no means resembled a "little lamb;" nor was the manner in which she shouted the running passages in the last movement at all in character with the playfulness and coaxing archness which Mozart has thrown into this fascinating song of the village bride and coquette, Zerlina. Mad. Persiani, however, made up for this failure in Mozart's music (which she evidently does not comprehend) by her spirited performance of the air "Come per me serena," by Bellini. Here she was completely at home, and afforded the highest gratification to the audience, who expressed their satisfaction by the most enthusiastic applause.

Miss Woodyatt sang Haydn's popular little canzonet, “The Mermaid," very prettily; and obtained an encore by her mode of introducing unexpectedly a high note (G above the staff,) after making a long shake on D, the second of the scale.

But one of the greatest treats of the evening was the duet between Lindley and Dragonetti, from the fifth opera of Corelli. It was the one in F (forming No. 4 of the set), and was played in a style of mastery and perfection that will never again be heard from any other

two performers. Long may those "Siamese twins" of the orchestra remain inseparably at their posts, to delight us over and over again with their unrivalled and unapproachable performances !

After some tasteful and well-contrasted Russian, German, and Scotch national airs, archly sung by Miss Novello, the concert was terminated by the anthem of " God save the queen."

From the lateness in the month, and the necessity of our number going to press with the quantity of matter it has under this head, it has been impossible to include an account of the Norwich performances, which concluded on the 20th.

THE SERVANT MARIE.*

THERE are minds which emulation spontaneously inflames; There are privileged spirits which, from situations the most obscure, and amidst circumstances the most unpropitious, shine with uncommon lustre, and achieve the most extraordinary results. Of this truth, the poor servant girl, whose interesting history was related to us by Dr. Corona, affords a memorable illustration.

This physician, long since dead, was himself an accomplished scholar. Unhappily driven, by political events, from Italy, the land of his birth, he sought refuge in Paris. There his worth and distinguished professional talents were soon duly appreciated. Corona was especially remarkable for the interest and variety of the anecdotes with which his mind was stored, and for his extensive erudition. On every subject of discussion or inquiry, his information was so correct, and his memory so inexhaustible, as to charm and astonish all who heard him. On an evening passed at his house, in the enjoyment of his delightful society, he detailed to us the following history:-

One of the most celebrated sculptors of Rome had a female servant named Marie. Born in a miserable cabin, of indigent and obscure parents, this young woman was yet distinguished by the elegance of her manners and the dignity of her deportment. Figure to yourself a young village girl, of physiognomy more striking than beautiful; of extraordinary vivacity of look, yet diffident, thirsting

From the French of Alibert.

VOL. X., NO. XXIX.

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for instruction; hearing everything, and forgetting nothing which she heard; executing with the utmost dispatch her domestic duties, in order to gain time for occupations more worthy of her genius; always thoughtful, yet passing with rapidity from the depths of reverie to the loftiest flights of enthusiasm, yet inaccessible to all the characteristic weaknesses of her sex; and you will have a correct idea of this extraordinary young creature, whose name was destined to become historical. By listening to the conversation of the great men who resorted in an evening to the house of her master, she appears to have become initiated into the mysteries of their

art.

Persons situated in the lower ranks of society are rarely smitten with the love of fame. To this rule the character of Marie exhibited a striking exception. At first, content with cherishing the most fervent admiration for the works of the celebrated master whom she served, she was soon seized with the ambition of gaining the applause of him whom she looked upon as an object of the deepest veneration. An artist of talent who frequented her master's house, and to whom she had communicated her extraordinary project, consented to give Marie clandestine instruction in the hours of leisure from her domestic occupations. Dr. Corona, to whom the important secret was confided, from that moment declared himself her Mecenas, and even contributed largely to the expences of her instruction. On her own part, the diligent girl most vigorously exerted herself to turn to the best account the services of her enlightened and philanthropic benefactors. The passionate emulation with which she was inspired never forsook her, nor even flagged. Her activity knew neither limit nor relaxation. An impulse, secret as it was powerful, directed all her faculties towards the goal of distinction, which she burned with noble ambition to attain.

Marie was gifted with a powerful imagination: every object in nature struck upon, and was reflected from, it. Qualities so distinguished, existing in a person utterly deprived of early instruction, might well excite astonishment and admiration. She dated her existence only from the day on which she commenced the study of sculpture. Never was she found in a state of inactivity. The hope of success was the prevalent idea in her mind—her ruling passion. On feeling the slightest relaxation of her ardour, she instantly repaired to the Vatican, there to rekindle the flame of inspiration. Frequently was she seen in the churches of Rome, seeking to penetrate the sublime ideas of the illustrious artists by a contemplation of the master-pieces of their genius. Whole hours