The Sun.
London, England, 1848-12-16 00:00:00

ROSSINI AND BELLINI.

In the latter part of 1829, when Rossini was proceed-
ing through Milan, he made a short sojourn in that city.
One of his old friends, to whom he had • paid a visit, in-
formed him that Bellini was lodging in the same hotel.
He straightway went to his apartment, where be found
Belli:1i busily employed. Ile introduced himself, and
was tk ndering his congratulations on the success of
Il Pirata, La Straniera, &c., when Bellini, who was
thrown it t') the utmost confusion by the diffuse praises
of his gifted visitor, exclaimed " I am only a beginner
yet ! ' "Very true," responded the courtly Maestro,
"you begin where others finish!"

TO LOUISA BASSANO

ON HER DEBUT IN THE CHARACTER OF MALCOLM GRAZ=

IN ROSSINI'S " LADY OF THE LAKE," NOV. 18, 1847.
Young Daughter of the Muse! with deepest joy
We hail thine advent and its promise glowing,
While Fame her coronet of laurel throwing
(A fadeless cincture Time shall ne'er destroy)
Upon thy brow, smiles radiant; and all eyes
Tell us thou'rt well deserving of the prize!
By thine own merit Fortune's goal thou'st WOO;
And dim Futurity, its veil unfolding,
Is tinged with glory's sunbright hues, beholding '
What thy self-sacrificing labour's done!
And though thou'rt young onF ortune's tortuous way,
Speed bravely on and thy high doom obey!
Tholi must not pause! from thee required will be
More than thou'st yet achieved, for thou'rt dowered
By Nature with those gifts which she bath showered
On few so plenteously as upon thee;
And thus progressing steadily, yet fast,
Thou'lt reach Perfection's pinnacle at last!
And oh! forget not what the Poet* saith,
Though earthly souls, Fame's evergreen despising,
And tor base lucre Nature's self disguising,
May Ftrive thy downfal with their envious breath;
Yet fear thee not—Heaven speed thy noble aim
And win the Home of Everlasting Fame!
Nov. 20, 1847. G. J. 0. A.

SHELLEY.
How exquisitely touching is the couplet,
" Music, when soft voices die,
Lingers in the Memory,"
as expressing how deeply concentrated and how tenetee
is the remembrance of the Distant or the Departed, the-
Loved or the Lost. It is the very spiritual essence of
Poetry, and always reminds me of the fable of Echo in
the Golden Mythology of Greece, who is said to have
still remained a Nymph even after the had faded away
into a Sound!

THE INFLUENCE OF AN AUDIENCE OVER A.

PERFORMER. r v " ---
There are many who devoutly consider that the only
requisites for a musical Soiree are, good singers, good
accompanyists, and good instruments. Their creed is
palpably born of error, and is remarkable only for
falsity, for one and the chief requisite is entirely lost
sight of—namely, a GOOD AUDIENCE. It is scarcely to
be conceived—it is barely possible to estimate, much
less to overrate, the influence which this circumstance
exercises over the performer.
And here let it be borne in mind that to render fit fee
public performance almost any kind of entertainitieni
which has to bear the test, to brave the too often severe
ordeal of public criticism, the approval or condemna-
tion of stranger eyes, of stranger hands, and of stranger
hearts, it generally requires six months' study for many
weary hours a day before the student can hope to attain
anything like that standard of perfection to which he
must arrive ere he can indulge the slightest hope, ere he
can possess the merest chance of success, the meelanioal
part of his efforts either as speaker, vocalist, or instru-
mentalist, requiring inconceivable labour. In the two
latter instances no ray of inspiration lights upon the
student, none of the joy which the thorough apprecia-
tion of his subject confers, until the mechanism of per-.
fection is attained, until the goal so ardently sought is
self-won, and then, when at length all is mastered in
triumph, it has lost for him, through this long process
of patient analysis and thoughtful study, all its beauty,
all its freshness and poetry. Yes! this, indeed, is well
nigh all that the Worshipper at the Shrine of Art, the
Seeker after the Beautiful and the True, can hope to
meet as a reward for the labours, the pains, the self
struggles of days and years, which are alike eummed up
in the sad and apposite line,—
" They bloom to wither! blossom but to die !"
And if he would seek a temporary gleam of its earlry
beauty, a halo of its pristine poetry, it must only tse
sought for and found—if found at all—in the sympathy
of his auditors. By the secret, the unseen establishment
between them and himself of a kind of magnetic current
—I might, in these railroad and electro-magnetic times,
iu these days in which the electric light is expected not
only to banish the erstwhile bright, but now duller gate)
from our streets and squares, but also the myths of
ignorance from the hearts of those who ambulate and
perambulate those streets and squares—almost say by a
sort of electro-telegraphic communion—his own sen-
sibilities, his own powers are invigorated, and for the
notice a fresh inspiration is created and conveyed.
Let us for au instant pause to imagine the lutist
entering for the first time the arena of his future re-
nown or downfall. He advances perhaps timidly, per-
haps with an assumed air of calmness and nonchalance,
to cover, to conceal the feelings of nervous anxiety whteh
beset him, he glances with a mingled look of penetra *".r,
curiosity and fear on the faces of the assemblage ars s
him. Verily, it is an exciting, and to some an awful mo-
meat; he may perceive only countenances as impend,-
bably stolid as a mummy of the Pharoahs, or eyes es
colourless as his own, in fact, he may find the tempera-
ture of his auditors to ba somewhere about five and
twenty degrees below Zero. Adieu then to inspire-00N
farewell to his half-formed hopes of suocess—adieu to
the golden dreams he has nursed—there is a cloud, rtibe
the shadow which Titan threw over the earth, betwetia
him and the object of his warm desires; and let him sing
with never so much taste, let him play never so fetilif
lessly, or with never so great precision, it is all in vain;
even if his performance should be decreed to be true and
free from all blemisb, it will be thought tiresome, eta
will never wake the response buried within, which, when
aroused at last, bursts into one loud, simultaneous voice
which cries, " Thou bast done well and art more than
worthy 1"
" I do remember me" of a little anecdote of Steibialts
the great pianoforte master, bearing so intimately end
closely on my foregoing observations that I do not heti.,
tate to relate it, the more so, as he thereby inculcated a
lesson, or at least inferred a hint, to auditors of thispenre,
which our young professors and artists would do well Se
bear in memory.
This great pianoforte player frequently by the insple.
ration and genius of his music, banished for a time the"
watches and snuff boxes of his hearers—of course, I nslist
be supposed to mean their use—the reverberations of the
German watch dials, the tschews of the Viennoise nasal
organs were generally unheard when he performed. Blik
Steibelt who was so exigeant of attention, was once dee-
tined to meet an interruption to his performance irk
another shape.
In the zenith of his fame he had, on one occasion and
after many oft-repeated solicitations, positively given his
promise that he would attend at the palace of the Prince
Von H—, and give an extemporaneous performance.
To render to the musician a due share of homage, e,
large concourse of nobles and cognoscenti were invited.
At the hour appointed arrived Steibelt, and without
further ceremony than a bow, seated himself at the
pianoforte. The most profound silence reigned over the,
suite—not a single "hush" was heard. Steibelt twitched
his nose slightly, his wonted custom when a little flurried;
but this passed unobserved ; he struck his first ohm%
and then, as if seized with an uncontrollable panic, as vie,.
lent as it was most extraordinary, stopped suddenly, and
turning toward the Prince, indicated, as well by his ex-
pressive countenance as by the intensity of his gestures,
that he could not proceed. Every one cried out with
encouragement ; the Prince entreated, prayed, nay es-
slated, till at length
Steibelt was induced to commence
again, but he had scarcely played a bar when he seemed
absolutely petrified with horror, and rose precipitately
from his seat.

" I shall not play," exclaimed he "before those two
marble blocks !"

Every eye followed the motion of his finger and wile
immediately fixed on two tall women who were carilessly
supporting themselves against the marble chimney pibox
and who might have stood for images for rigidity it'd!!
immobility, for emblems of somnolent stupidity, or " to
be gentle with the gentle sex," of awful insipidity. The
pianist dared not await any reply, but hurried from the
palace in a state of great mental agitation and unite-
went, leaving all but the " two marble blocks" he had
named, and seemed utterly unconscious and unmo'red,
a state of great disappointment and chagrin. It mai
some long time before the Prince would be pacified awl
prevailed upon to forgive Steibelt.

• " Qual vaghezza di lauro? qual di mirto
Povera e nuda vai, Filosofia,
Dice la turba al vil guadagno intesa.
Pochi compagni avrai per l'altra via:
Tanto ti prego piu, gentile spirto
Non lassar la maguanima tua impresa."
PETRAROA.

DEATH FROM A DROP OF WAX.—It is with uaneh
regret that we announce the death of Dr. John
Stewart, which took place at his house at Calm-
'lock, on Monday, the 20th ultimo, after a week's
illness. lie had accidentally burnt his wrist some
short time previously, by . letting fall upon it
a drop of melted wax, but the injury was so slight that
he paid little attention to it at the time. In a few days,
however, it became inflamed and painful, and notwith-
standing all that medical skill could devise, the inflam-
mation increased, inducing a high degree of fever, till, after
a week of severe distress, exhausted nature gave way.. Dr.
Stewart was possessed of much professional skill, and
was particularly noted fur the dexterity and success of
his surgical operation.—Ayr Obterver.