Nature and Art, August 1, 1866.] 
MUSIC AT HOME. 
89 
MUSIC AT HOME. 
rpO those having the advancement of music at heart, the 
A study of the London Opera hills is far more comforting 
than it was some few seasons back. Opposition is good ; 
and rivalry in operatic management an undoubted benefit. 
The Atlas of the Haymarket, who bears the responsibility 
of the “old house” upon his shoulders, produces classical 
and sterling works in quick succession ; while the autocrat 
of Bow Street relies chiefly upon repetitions of past successes. 
That deliberate animal the tortoise, we are told, ordinarily 
wins the race ; and if good fortune does not refuse to follow 
a lessee of similarly inactive habits, so much the better for 
him, whatever it may be for the public. The subscribers 
and the “upper ten” are notoriously apathetic concerning 
the musical arrangements for a season, and would possibly 
be content to witness a return of the Verdi fever which 
desolated London before the production of Faust. Mozart’s 
opera II Seraglio is an important revival ; and, besides em- 
ploying Mdlle. Titiens as the heroine Costanza, Dr. Gunz as 
Belmont the lover, Mdlle. Sinico as Blonda, Signor Eoli as 
Selim, and Signor Stagno as Pedrillo, gives Herr Rokitansky 
the chance he deserves in the part of the gardener Osmin. 
This specimen of the old school — so despised by the fanatics 
of the “ future” creed — was given to perfection on the first 
night it was performed. The same may be said of Ernani, 
produced July 10th. Mr. Mapleson’s new tenor, Signor 
Tasca, did more with Ernani than could have been antici- 
pated from his previous attempts ; but he is woefully 
deficient as an actor. Mr. Santley’s Carlo Quinto is simply 
perfect ; and Ernani is far better, in every way, than many 
of Verdi’s later operas. Roberto il Diavolo laboured under 
the disadvantage of a deputy Bertramo (Signor Eoli for 
Herr Rokitansky), a tenor (Signor Tasca as Roberto) 
unequal to that particular emergency, and a nervous Alice 
(Mdlle. Celestina Lavini) unfitted for any important part. 
Mdlle. lima de Murska, that illustrious young Dinorah, who 
walks about during two acts of storm and darkness in thin 
Parisian pink rosetted boots, literally walked over the 
course as Isabella on the first Roberto night. Oberon, 
11 Barbiere, with that pearl among singers Madame Trebelli- 
Bettini as Rosina, Semiramide, and La Sonnambula have 
been played within the month. Mr. Tom Hohler is perhaps 
a better Elvino than an Arturo, but he has yet many things 
to learn. 
At the Royal Italian Opera, Madame Vilda has not ven- 
tured on anything but Norma and Lucrezia Borgia. Many 
alterations are to be found in this year’s cast of L’Etoile du 
Nord ; Adelina Patti as Caterina being the head and chief 
among them. M. Eaure is a far better Pietro than Signor 
Attri ; and no comparison could be instituted between the 
operatic pet, Adelina, and Madame Van den Heuvel (Caroline 
Duprez). Signor Naudin is also preferable to the stout 
tenor, M. Hiliare. 
Many of the societies have rested from their labours ; 
concerts are on the wane ; and those dreary gatherings 
known as matinees will soon be things of the past. 
The first “ballad concert” held in the transept of the 
Crystal Palace was speedily followed by a second, at which 
the Norma of ancient days — the delight of titled sub- 
scribers, and the bright particular star of the original 
Puritani quatuor — sang to the “people,” otherwise the 
“ shilling mob,” “ How are the mighty fallen !” may be 
feelingly exclaimed; for the “light of other days,” which 
should have been extinguished according to promise when 
its brilliancy began to wane, now twinkles but feebly in the 
musical horizon. Putting the dignity of art entirely out of the 
question, it may, perhaps, be argued that any Una, long 
past her vocal meridian, is justified in taking every con- 
ceivable advantage of the British Lion’s amiability. That 
stupid and tractable beast now ambles quietly along while 
Una croons unpleasingly ornamental versions of his 
national melodies, and shakes the golden coin from hi? 
very thick mane ; but he may one day become as impatient 
in the concert-room as he was, on a certain Saturday 
evening, in the theatre. In that hour, the ominous word 
“ Basta,” delivered with significant energy, may be found 
not quite so pleasant to hear as “ Brava,” delivered accord- 
ing to custom, and in defiance of common sense. Tolera- 
tion of faded capacity may be very well to a certain extent ; 
but the interest of music is by no means promoted when 
that description of charitable feeling is carried beyond all 
reasonable bounds. Some who have made both reputation 
and money in England, sacrifice the former without 
hesitation, if, by so doing, they can increase their store of 
the latter. Inefficiency among instrumentalists would not 
be permitted as it is in the operatic and concert- singing- 
worlds. Would an audience listen to Arabella Goddard, 
Charles Halle, or Joachim, struggling through concertos of 
Beethoven or Mendelssohn with fingers partly paralysed ? 
Would either of these jeopardize fame, and degrade then- 
art, after Nature had withdrawn her countenance from 
their efforts ? 
When voices fail ; when intonation becomes more than 
uncertain, and habitually false ; when high notes are 
barely pouched and often coolly ignored ; and when the 
time is “ dragged” by a singer no longer able to articulate 
clearly and rapidly, it would certainly become that singer 
to withdraw with the honours of war. At both the great 
lyric theatres of London an amount of impatience has 
been provoked and expressed on sundry nights of the 
present season ; a fact which should be accepted as a 
warning by those who have nothing more than faultless 
acting to rely upon. In operatic artistes, a voice and some 
command over it is required. 
Vocalists, however, it would appear, always seem to 
prefer to retire fighting for every inch of ground ; and, in 
common with too many of us, lack the candour to accept 
defeat at the hands of the unflagging pursuer, Time. The 
friendly summonses of that antique general are systemati- 
cally unheeded ; and the approach, or rather the actual 
commencement of the “sere and yellow” period, is 
frequently ignored with wonderful pertinacity. The first 
Napoleon said of Josephine, that “her toilette was an 
arsenal from which she drew weapons to defy the assaults 
of time ;” but no such aid supplies the need of the fading 
voice. It is melancholy enough when the necessity for 
retirement from public life is not frankly acknowledged ; 
but when that proceeding is effected by a, series of feints 
and manoeuvres extending over some years, ending at last 
in unavoidable collapse, the spectacle is simply pitiable. 
ISlot only is this a common case ; but the musical public 
are now invited to marvel at that philosophy which can 
lead Empresses of Song to exchange an honourable repose 
for an activity bringing with it little else than humiliation. 
The withering lyric crown is no pleasing object. Faith 
should be kept with the public ; and farewells should 
be taken once for all. The amateur who economizes, or 
resigns other pleasures to witness a “ final performance,” 
is naturally irritated when he finds that luxury offered to 
him a second time. 
Though the most conspicuous mistakes of this kind have 
been observed in foreign artists, they are not alone in the 
obstinacy with which they keep in the field. Certain 
English nightingales — whose tones, compared with those of 
other days, are now as unpleasant as the song of that 
gorgeous fowl, the peacock — still haunt the platforms they 
might have quitted with honour long ago. With whatever 
leniency this practice may be regarded, it is none the less 
to be regretted ; and those artists able to rest from their 
labours in affluence, or even comfort, would increase then- 
own credit by abstaining from competition with others 
possessing the inestimable advantages of youth and 
freshness. 
