88 
“ VENUS’S FLOWER-BASKET.” 
[Nature and Art, March 1, 1867. 
with airs of Mozart and Handel by Mdlles. Lieb- 
hart, Agliatti, and Signor Foli, were all included in 
the programme. These particulars of two of the 
“ Orchestrals ” will prove the vigour of the manage- 
ment. Mdlle. Sinico, and Miss Fanny Jervis, a 
pianiste of no ordinary stamp, subsequently ap- 
peared. At the second classical concert, Spohr’s 
'magnificent Symphony commonly known as “ The 
Power of Sound ” was performed in a manner not 
quite intended by the grand old musician. 
Ballad Concerts are again in the ascendant, and 
with them is specially identified Madame Sainton- 
Dolby. Amateurs were at first sanguine enough 
to believe that the cause of old English ballads 
would be advanced at these remunerative enter- 
tainments. That musical antiquarian, William 
Chappell, and his “ fellow-student,” G. A. Mac- 
farren, have done their duty in pointing out the 
beauties of the true English school ; but concert 
vocalists apparently find it more profitable to sing 
the songs of Queen Victoria’s time than those of 
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Madame 
Sainton-Dolby gave a ballad concert on the 16th 
of January at St. James’s Hall. Whittakers and 
Shield’s names appeared in the programme for a 
song each, and Bishop’s for two. The very long 
and dreary intervals between these illustrious 
strangers were filled up by Nelson, Lemmens, 
Blumenthal, Claribel, G. Hodgson, Virginia 
Gabriel, Weiss, Glover, Boscovitcli, Luders, and 
Miss Philp. Mr. W. Chappell should collect 
every copy of his heretical book which lovingly 
proclaims the old English ballads worthy of accept- 
ance, and serve them as Hon Quixote’s clerical 
friend did his library of romances ; for it appears 
the aforesaid ballads are to be henceforth quietly 
dropped in favour of modern inventions. Has 
the hideous and pertinacious spectre which one 
calls “ Shop ” nothing to do with the contemptuous 
ignoring of the national ballads by the singers of 
the present day 1 “ Once I loved a maiden fair,” 
“ Cold’s the wind, and wet’s the rain,” “ Ah ! the 
sighs that come from my heart,” and such-like, are 
perhaps very well in their way; but they could not 
be marked three or four shillings, and are hardly 
available for the superscription, “ Sung by Madame 
or Miss So-and-so,” or the autographs representing so 
much per copy. Old ballads are, in some people’s 
estimation, “ beautiful for ever,” like the arch 
enameller’s favoured subjects ; but others in genteel 
life seem to consider them eligible for the kind of 
treatment old friends sometimes meet with. They 
may be honoured and appreciated in private, but 
they must be cut dead or be favoured with the coldest 
of shoulders in public. It is somewhat hard that 
the time for cleansing the gems of old English 
melody from the dust of succeeding ages is so 
systematically put off, especially as the dust afore- 
said accumulates with alarming rapidity. It was 
originally presumed, and naturally enough, that 
the so-called “ ballad concerts ” would rescue some 
of the loveliest melodies ever written from absolute 
oblivion ; but their mission is apparently the 
popularizing of a few songs which in ten years will, 
probably, be remembered to the same extent that 
Mr. Balfe’s Blanche cle Nevers is now. Beal lovers 
of good music do not sigh for concerts composed of 
Elizabethan melodies entirely, varied by fantasias 
on the virginal, but they would be glad to see the 
relics of antiquity treated with the consideration they 
deserve. The concert vocalists are perhaps afraid 
that old and new ballads introduced in equal propor- 
tions would result in the humiliation of the former. 
The old might pale before the new, but the experi- 
ment would be worth a fair, open, and candid trial. 
The admirable Winter Concerts are progressing 
satisfactorily, and vague rumours are already 
pointing to the possibility of a new music-room as 
part of the forthcoming restoration at the Crystal 
Palace. Messieurs les Directeurs will, perhaps, 
have a little consideration for those unfortunates 
who do not occupy reserved seats, for their privi- 
leges have been much curtailed of late. The 
“ lower fifteen ” appreciate a comfortable seat as 
highly as the “ upper ten;” and if any new arrange- 
ment may be in contemplation, it is to be hoped 
the plain “ guinea season-ticket ” holders may find 
room to rest and be thankful, and to bless the 
executive body with as much fervency as they 
have occasionally anathematized it. 
“VENUS’S FLOWER-BASKET.” 
(Euplectella 
By W. B. Lobd 
I T is not among the endless variety of floral 
gems which deck the forest and the plain, or 
the glittering ores and crystals of the earth, that 
our search for forms of perfect grace and loveliness 
need be confined ; and however charming and ad- 
mirable the wax-like petals and feathery fronds of 
the choicest flowers of the Tropics may be, or 
however radiant the mineral from the deepest mine, 
speciosa.) 
Royal Artillery. 
there are treasures as exquisite as any of them, 
scattered amongst the teeming gardens, or stored 
up in the great reef-caverns beneath the rolling 
billows of the sea. 
The sponges, corallines, anthozoa, medusae, sea- 
weeds, and the countless other productions of the 
deep, each have their types of beauty; myriads of 
tiny ocean flowrets and fruitlets hang from rock 
