EIGHT SONGS, by BARRY CORNWALL and the CHEVALIER NEUKOMM. (Cramer, Addison, and Beale.)

OUR pages during the last two years will attest how often and how successfully the poet who writes under the above name, and the musician who composes in his own, have combined their talents: ‘The Sea,’ and ‘David’s Lament for Absalom,’ are sufficient, had those authors produced nothing else in union, to float them together down the stream of time, and will assist in proving that the age which certainly brought forth a good deal of trash,—as all ages have done, and will continue to do,—also gave birth to what is, without other evidence, quite sufficient to rescue it from a sweeping charge of false taste and inability. Those canzonets, difficult as they are to ordinary amateurs, are now in almost every house where a musical instrument is to be found, and are sung, especially the first, by all who are blessed with a voice, and by some who possess scarcely any at all.

Barry Cornwall, the pseudonyme adopted by one of the most distinguished of the really good lyric poets of the day, last year published a delightful little volume of ‘English Songs, and other small Poems,’ a fact so well known in the world of literature and taste, that we should not have repeated it here, but for the purpose of showing the connexion of that work with the present. The Chevalier Neukomm had set some of the songs before they appeared in print; and the eight now before us are among the hundred and seventy, or thereabouts, contained in the volume mentioned.

Great success naturally leads to further efforts, and the applause which attended the two songs above-named, has tempted the composer to write perhaps rather too fast. The most fertile fancy, like the richest soil, must be allowed time to recruit: the mind that creates needs fallows as much as the earth which produces. A want of a little of this restorative appears in the songs now under notice. There is no absence of exertion,—certainly no want of whatever science or labour can yield; but we do not meet with those evidences of the inventive faculty that are so strong in the compositions to which we have alluded. We know full well that he who always expects works of equal value from the same pen must infallibly be disappointed, and slightly touch upon a comparison only in order to make our opinion more accurately understood by our readers.

The first of the set, ‘The happy hours,’ is in two movements; the last partly in three-eight time, and partly in six-eight, is rather common. At page 3, however, is a redeeming modulation from C to Aflat.

The second, ‘Hide me, O twilight air!’ is a clever composition, the concluding page exceedingly effective, and the poet’s general meaning is well expressed; but in the setting of particular words, the foreigner, the stranger to the niceties of our accent, is very visible. The style of the early part of the seventeenth century is here so ably imitated by the poet, that we must beg leave to lay his verses before our readers:—

The ‘Serenade’ is too long and laboured for an evensong in the open air; and the sameness of the accompaniment, running on in one unvarying stream through three verses, becomes at last rather fatiguing.

The fourth, ‘The Night,’ opens with a sweet and gentle melody; the changes of time, however, are too frequent for a song, though, as well as the declamatory parts, they would be proper enough in a cantata. The whole of this appears the result of study. In truth the words are difficult to set.

No. 5, ‘The Evening Star,’ presents no feature at all remarkable. The accentuation of this is free from all reproach.

The sixth, ‘My Sword,’ is a fine, spirited, martial air, the accompaniments in excellent keeping, and the whole characteristic and exciting.

‘The Exile,’ in C minor, the seventh of the set, is deeply pathetic: a well-imagined andantino in F comes in beautifully, expressing a gleam of future hope; but this is checked again by reflection; and the last part, ‘Farewell to old England’ is affectingly uttered in the mournful tones of the minor key.

The eighth, ‘Oh, pleasant is the fisher’s life,’ does not conclude the volume in a very brilliant manner; the phrases and cadences offer nothing new, and no part of the song is likely to make any impression on the hearer, whether he belong to the learned or unlearned class of auditors.

This volume is much increased in value by portraits of the poet and composer, drawn by Wivell and engraved by Holt. They are admirable likenesses, and executed in a superior manner. How far preferable are such additions to a work, to those fancy things miscalled embellishments, which we rejoice to find are now pretty generally discarded in musical publications. Portraits, if at all faithful resemblances, are always interesting, and gratify a very natural curiosity; while imaginary scenes and emblematical designs are most commonly destitute of any charm, being too often mean in conception and faulty in execution.

PIANO-FORTE.

GRAND EXERCICE D’OCTAVES dans tous les tons, majeur et mineur composÉe par CHARLES CZERNY, Op. 152. (Wessel and Co.)

WERE an inhabitant of another sphere—of one of those worlds which many folks think made only for our amusement, for us to spy at through a telescope—to be shown this grand exercise, he would straightway and naturally conclude that all those belonging to the planet Earth, who ‘handle’ the piano-forte, must be under the immediate influence of their own satellite:—‘For who,’ he would ask, ‘but moon-struck people would submit to a piece sixteen pages long, consisting of nought else, from beginning to end, but semiquavers running in octaves without the slightest break or intermission, without air, or rhythm, or any reasonable object, till one solitary chord ends the mad ramble?’ And this is no exaggerated account of the ‘grand’ composition on our desk, strange and almost incredible as it may appear.

It is to be presumed that a nondescript of the present kind would not have been published unless there had been a chance, amounting almost to a certainty, of finding purchasers for it; and we can only say, that if there are many to waste their money, and what is worse their time, upon such a matchless piece of absurdity, good taste in music, and the common sense of its votaries, are in a more declining state than even the former productions of this composer, and others of the same school, have led us to suppose.

1. RONDEAU, de l’OpÉra de BOIELDIEU, la Dame Blanche, composÉ par FRED. KUHLAU. (Wessel and Co.)
2. Ditto, do. do.
3. PRECIOSA LIED, from WEBER’s PRECIOSA, varied by FRED. KUHLAU. (Wessel and Co.)

KUHLAU should ‘have died hereafter.’ Suddenly his sun set before its expected time. Nearly the same packet that brought us the first proofs we ever saw of his talents, bore the news of his death; and since then, every production of his that has reached us has furnished an additional proof of the loss music sustained by his premature decease. Two out of the three pieces conjoined is this article are further evidences of his ability, the subjects of which have been treated by many, by few so well, and by none better.

The first is on the airs ‘Chantez, joyeux MÉnestrel,’ and ‘Robin Adair,’ the latter, since Boieldieu introduced it in his opera, having become as popular on the continent as it was here some years ago. The second is on ‘Pauvre Dame Marguerite;’ and the third is the ballad, or Lied, ‘Einsam bin ich nicht alleine,’ with variations.

In Nos. 1 and 2, the melodies, though fully accompanied, are distinctly heard; the harmony, abundant as it is, does not obscure the subject, and the arpeggioed passages, in all shapes, are in due relation to it. Both are well calculated for the instrument, and the manner in which they are written would alone be sufficient to prove the composer a real master of the piano-forte. They are not difficult for good players, but far from easy for the generality, and will excite more pleasure than astonishment. We must, however, express our regret that a wish to comply with custom—for M. K.’s own taste surely must have revolted against it—should have betrayed him into the commission of semitonic passages of the worst kind. His introduction to No. 1, in which are some fine effects, is spoiled at the end by an up-and-down run of half notes which seems to have no end, and almost prejudices the ear against the melody that immediately succeeds.

The ten variations, including the finale, on the German air, No. 3, possess all the vivacity which, arises from the active motion of the hand on the instrument, sweeping in arpeggios from low to high and back again, but this is the whole amount of the praise due to them, except that they are not carried on to any immoderate length.

1. La Noce, second RONDO sur des ThÊmes de la Tentation (musique de HALEVY) arrangÉe par ADOLPHE ADAM. (Chappell).
2. Les Dons À CÉline, Trois PiÈces agrÉables, en forme de Sonatines, composÉes par ALOYS SCHMIDT, de Francfort. (Wessel and Co.)

THE airs incorporated in No. 1 are pretty, and free from that kind of commonness, which is almost another word for vulgarity, but the same paucity of new ideas is visible here, as in too many of the publications of the day. It is evident that we must go back to old favourites, most of which are forgotten, and would be novelties to the present generation.

No. 2 are easy enough, certainly, as the word Sonatine announces, but are trite and childish as well as easy, with old-fashioned bases, cantering either in triplets of quavers, or moving À l’Alberti, in chords broken into semiquavers. We certainly should have expected from a man of M. Aloys Schmidt’s talent, trifles of a less trifling kind.

Both the above publications are calculated for very juvenile learners only.

1. DIVERTIMENTO, from ROSSINI’s Barbiere di Siviglia, arranged by W. ETHERINGTON. (Metzler and Sons.)
2. THE ALPINE MARCH, arranged as an easy RONDO, by THOMAS VALENTINE. (Chappell.)

MR. ETHERINGTON’s Divertimento is compounded of ‘Una voce poco fÀ’ with its second movement: ‘Zitti! Zitti!’ and ‘Largo al Factotum,’ all of which, it is true, have been so often arranged, and are so perfectly known by heart by every one with a musical ear—nay, they are actually played about the streets of Constantinople; the very Moslems hum them—that we should have thought the present arranger too late for the market; but of this he is the fittest judge; we have only to speak of the manner of working up the airs into their present form, which is very creditable to Mr. Etherington’s taste. Indeed he has done little more than arrange from the score, his additions are just enough to blend the three, and these are modestly and judiciously made. He has retained the key E, kept within very moderate bounds as regards length, and consulted both the character of the instrument and convenience of the performer.

No. 2 is a very brief and easy version of this popular march, in two pages and a half. It is suited to very youthful practitioners, whom it will please, without in any degree vitiating their taste.

DUETS, PIANO-FORTE.

1. Souvenirs of MEYERBEER’s Opera, Robert le Diable, consisting of the favourite Airs arranged by W. WATTS. Book 1. (Chappell.)
2. Ditto. Book 2. Ditto.

Robert has already taken many shapes, and now assumes that of duets, Mr. Watts, the chief agent in the business, having so willed it, and a better qualified person for the purpose could not have been found. It is sufficient now, since we so often have had to speak of the various parts of this opera, to mention what pieces are here chosen; our opinion of their respective merits has already been given. The first book contains the introduction, with the chorus ‘Aux seuls Plaisirs;’ the popular air, ‘Jadis rÉgnait en Normandie,’ of course; and the chorus, ‘Non! il faut qu’il soit punit.’ The second is almost wholly occupied with ‘O Fortune! À ton caprice.’ and the remainder of the scene, preceded by the chorus, ‘Nous sommes tous flattÉs.’

There is nothing in any of these which could have been rendered difficult when distributed among four hands, and the present is too wary an adapter to throw impediments in the way of performers of the purchasing class.

OVERTURE to Spohr’s Grand Romantic Opera Jessonda, arranged by L. ZERBINI. (Wessel and Co.)

PIANO-FORTE performers are now so abundant that overtures, and full orchestral compositions, when arranged, generally take the shape of duets. We are become so accustomed to them in this form, that very few players will singly attempt them, knowing how comparatively meagre they sound when committed to two hands. This is a faithful and good adaptation of the score, and renders that easy and effective for two performers which is quite the reverse for one.

How long will Mr. L. Zerbini continue to announce himself in his title-pages as a ‘pupil’?—The public, he ought to know, are inclined to think more favourably of publications by masters than by scholars.

1. VARIATIONS on CARAFFA’s air, ‘O cara Memoria,’ arranged by A. DIABELLI. (Aldridge.)
2. ‘Una Voce poco fÀ;’ ROSSINI’s aria in Il Barbiere, arranged by GEORGE PERRY. (Luff.)
3. ‘Papuccie! chi vuol Papuccie?’ PACINI’s air in La Schiava di Bagdad, arranged by Signor Maestro G. P. CITTADINI. (Purday.)

No. 1 consists of five clever and very pleasant variations on an air which appears to much greater advantage instrumentally than vocally. This is short enough to admit an encore, and if played with neatness and some degree of brilliancy, will very often induce the hearers to ask for it a second time.

In No. 2, Mr. Perry has given us the air, with its second movement, ‘Io sono docile,’ exactly according to the score. We do not perceive that he has added or taken away a single note; but he has transposed the whole from E to F, and this we cannot consider an improvement. In days long gone by, the key of E with four sharps looked formidably; the march of music has robbed it of its terrors; and every one who has the slightest faith in the character of keys, will protest against so violent a change.

No. 3 is the air made so amusing by Signor Lablache; though many laughed while he was crying ‘Slippers! who wants slippers?’ without very well knowing what they laughed at. Signor (Maestro) Cittadini might have chosen something better adapted to the purpose than an air, the merit of which depends so much on the words and the humour in singing them. Spread, as this is, over nineteen pages, and exhibiting so little variety, we must say that, should it sell, it will prove more useful to the stationer and publisher than the purchaser. We do not, however, mean to cast any slur on the arrangement itself, which is faultless, but in the selection made by the Maestro.

VOCAL.

THE ART of SINGING, a Method, in Three Parts, on an entirely new plan of vocalization, &c., by J. P. LE CAMUS. (Published by the Author.)

THIS is a ponderous tome indeed! Two hundred and twelve large folio pages! But considering what it is to achieve—or rather, what the author most courageously asserts it will effect—such vastness of extent is by no means unnecessary. But let the author himself be heard.

‘The Method,’ he says, ‘I now publish has more novelty, and (I may say) more importance than the public usually attribute to works of this nature. It is the fruit of a singular but fertile idea, developed with conscientious care, and with the intention of superseding all the treatises on singing that have hitherto appeared.’—(Preface.)

There is no bashfulness in this, but much candour. Whenever a work is published the author wishes it to be thought the best that ever appeared, and hopes that it may cast into utter oblivion all others of the kind; but he seldom has honesty enough to declare this. M. Le Camus has no disguise.

‘Do we,’ he continues, ‘look for a proof of the insufficiency of all these treatises? Let us examine the actual state of the art. Vocal music was never so generally cultivated, and yet nothing is more uncommon than to meet with a singer whose principles are invariable, and whose execution is always perfect.’—(Preface.)

Very true, indeed, M. Le Camus; and, let us add, we should think the millennium actually arrived were we to meet with a singer, or any other description of human being, ‘always perfect.’

The Method herein proposed and followed, is to accompany the voice of the student, whether he be singing the diatonic or chromatic scales, the different intervals, or melodies of any kind, with a full harmony, in which as many ‘varied modulations are introduced as possible, in order to familiarize his ear with every harmonical combination, so that no transition, however abrupt, may take him by surprise.’—(Preface.)

There is no novelty in all this, we can assure the author; every good master has pursued the same plan. We grant that the number of such masters is not very great; we know that singing is taught,—aye in most instances,—by persons who possess very little, if any, knowledge of principles, or the power of communicating them to others, even if themselves are acquainted with them. But does it follow that, because there are many incapable teachers, a good system has never been followed by those who have studied and know their art? M. Le Camus can have inquired very little into the subject, can have consulted very few works, if he supposes that he now promulgates a system entirely new. We could at once show him three or four treatises in which the same principles are much more fully developed.

In a work of such magnitude it was to be expected that nothing relating to the vocal art would be left unsaid; but the author of this has omitted the mention of much that is essential: he gives no directions for the formation of the voice, touches very briefly on the management of the breath, is wholly silent on the subject of pronunciation, and equally reserved on a point of vital importance—expression[15]. In short, though the author of the Method, which he seems to consider so perfect of its kind, has done something in furtherance of his plan, he has left much more undone; and if, instead of examples of his own (which fill about nineteen-twentieths of the volume), he had chosen fit compositions, in various styles, of the great masters, and treated on the best manner of executing them, he would have rendered a much greater service to the musical world, and made his book far more worth the high price he has fixed on it.

1. SERIOUS GLEE, ‘The parted Spirit,’ for four voices, which gained the prize at the Gentlemen’s Glee Club, Manchester, in 1831; the words by JOHN MALCOLM, Esq.; the music by FINLAY DUN, of Edinburgh. (Mori and Lavenu.)
2. SERENADE, ‘Lady of Beauty,’ for three voices, by H. GIFFIN. (Brown.)

MR. FINLAY DUN’s glee is rather a successful study than work of genius;—it exhibits more signs of persevering labour than of flights of imagination. And such is the character of some of the best compositions of this kind to which the last quarter of a century has given birth. Many, indeed, brought forth during the same period have nothing to distinguish them but the smell of the lamp,—their only merit consisting in the avoidance of grammatical errors. To write these is exceedingly easy; but it requires talent to compose an effective glee,—genius to produce such as is great or beautiful.

This fortunate work opens with a Largo in F minor, common time, which changes into an andante, and ends with a movement in the major key, three-four time. The poet’s sentiments are, upon the whole, well expressed, though the accentuation is frequently incorrect. At the seventh bar a crescendo on the word ‘blast’ is, indeed, an abortive attempt to make the sound an echo to the sense; and after ‘I call upon the heavens to show,’ there ought to be a rest, or pause of some kind. There is melody in this, but the harmony is most deserving of praise. The gracefulness, though not of a very original kind, of the last movement, most probably carried the votes of the judges; but we speak on this subject with reserve, not knowing the quality of the rivals with which the work had to contend.

The piano-forte accompaniment we cannot approve: with it the composition is no longer a glee. Moreover, by often running in octaves with the alto and other parts, the worst possible effect is produced. If uncertain singers require aid, the only allowable accompaniment to a glee is confined to the very notes given to the voices.

The second of these must surely claim as its parent either a very youthful or an extremely inexperienced composer.

1. The Maid of Abbotsford, written and composed by MRS. J. F. TURNER. (Collard and Collard.)
2. BALLAD, ‘Mary, meet me there,’ composed by MISS MOUNSEY. (Collard and Co.)
3. ROMANCE, The Bridal Death, written and composed by J. AUGUSTINE WADE, Esq. (Chappell.)
4. BALLAD, ‘Here do we meet again,’ Ditto ditto ditto.
5. BALLAD, ‘I saw her at the Fancy Fair,’ the poetry by EDM. SMITH, Esq., composed by JOHN BARNETT. (Goulding and D’Almaine.)
6. BALLAD. ‘That lovely girl,’ the poetry by E. SMITH, Esq., composed by J. A. BARNETT. (Goulding and Co.)
7. SONG, ‘’Tis the season of friendship,’ the words by W. F. COLLARD, the music by C. M. SOLA. (Collard and Collard.)
8. SWISS AIR, ‘The Emmethaler Shepherd,’ written by J. A. WADE, Esq., and arranged by F. STOCKHAUSEN. (Chappell.)
9. CANZONET, ‘Sweet pensive woodland nightingale,’ the poetry by LILY GODWIN, composed by THOMAS GRAHAM. (Chappell.)
10. CAVATINA, ‘The Flowers,’ the poetry by MRS. CHARLES GREVILLE, the music composed by BIANCHI TAYLOR. (Collard and Collard.)

THOUGH we may be charged with a want of gallantry, yet we cannot say much in commendation of either Nos. 1 or 2.

The music of No. 3 is far better than the verses, which are very inferior to most of Mr. Wade’s lyrical productions.

No. 4 has appeared in a musical annual reviewed by us long ago.

If the success of No. 5 is as great as many very bold advertisements might lead us to believe, popularity is not invariably a test of merit in a song. The air is rather pleasing, but such an utter disregard of poetical accent we have rarely ever witnessed, e. g.

Then we have—

No. 6 is a worthy companion to the preceding. The poet and musician rival each other in good sense: Par nobile fratrum.—The one sings,—

which the other sets thus:—

At the second page things get worse—but we have shown up enough.

No. 7 is a good Christmas song, with chorus for soprano and base. The words and music are both exhilarating, and the whole is easy.

No. 8 is one of the numerous class of Swiss airs which so much resemble each other. The few bars, however, of opening, slow and in the minor key, give some variety and character to this, and rather distinguish it from the many. We cannot say much in favour of the words, which savour of nonsense verses.

No. 9 is well designed, but in the execution the composer seems to have been at a loss; there are in this many proofs of inexperience as a writer,—not exactly errors, but want of habit. We, however, recommend him to persevere, practice will remedy defects of the kind to which we allude.

No. 10 evinces talent that we hope will be often called forth. The melody is exceedingly pleasing, and far from common; some of the phrases remind us of the classical schools, and are as unexpected as charming, particularly that in the second page, beginning at the fifth bar. The accompaniment, too, is not less to be approved.