The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-09-06 00:00:00

THE APOLLO VOCAL CONCERT.

The fourth, and, we believe, the last (under the late arrange-
ments) of these Concerts was given on Wednesday night at the
Adelphi Rooms, under the management of Mr. G. Holden, as
conductor. The performances commenced with Mozart's grand
symphony, " Jupiter," which was brilliantly executed ba Mr.
Holden and Mr. Comber on the piano. This piece was followed
by Mozart's sestetto, " Dove Son," " Cosi fan tutti," which
Messdames Johnson, Potts, and Leach, anal Messrs. Caird,
Aubrey, and Pemberton, contrived to murder in a most ruthless
manner • at any rate these ladies and gentlemen, or our ears
were sadly out of tune. To make amends for this act of bar
barity, we had shortly after the delight of hearing Fioravanti's
terzetto, " Io Diro se net Gestire," sung beautifully by Miss
Johnson, Miss Potts, and Mr. Pemberton. This, we thought,
the best of the Italian performances, was honoured with an en-
core. We must not omit adding, that Rossini's quintetto,
" Incerta. L'Anima," deserved a similar compliment.
Miss Johnson, a sweet little songstress by the way, sang
" With verdure clad," from Haydn's Creation, in very good
taAe. The solo and chorus of nuns, "Turn Holy Piither,"
with an accompaniment on the organ, was well executed, but
much of the effect was lost from the smallness of the room.
The best of the English pieces was " See the chariot at hand,"
a glee by Horsley. As these beautiful lines are from the pen'
of "The Rare Ben Johnson," and may not be familiar to some
of our readers, we transcribe them:—
SEE TIIE CHARIOT AT HAND HERE, OF LOVE,
Wherein my lady rideth ;
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car love guideth.
As she
_goes all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty ;
And enamoured do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side
Thro' swords, thro' seas, whither she would ride.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have pluck 'd it?
HaVe you mark'd but the fall of the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it I
Have you felt the wool of the beaver,
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the briar,
Or the nard in the fire?
Have you tasted the bag o' the bee ?-
0 so white, so soft, so sweet is she
The music in the last two lines is exquisitely softened down, so
as to give expression to them, in a way that we can scarcely,
find words to express. Miss Potts sang " The Soldier Tired;"
and we were very angry with her—no, we do not mean that ex-
actly, for it is contrary to our nature to quarrel with a lady,
particularly if she chance to be like Miss Potts, la young, and,
moreover, an accomplished singer ; but, on the part of Dr.
Arne, who is not alive to defend the credit of his compositions,
we do enter our most solemn protest against her attempts to
palm any notes upon us that are not genuine. If she does this
again we will petition for a re-enactment of the old forgery laws.
As a whole, the performances were very creditable to the
talents of the performers, and went off with treat eclat. Some
of the pieces might have been omitted, or better substitutes
ufosutnodhfoopr them
alh m'oerreocoommwmaosdcioruoswpded lacetomeixllcebs w
es,
sehleiceltie lde aeds
re
these performances are resumed, which, we hope, they shortly
will be, with the addition of some instrumental music.