RECORDS OF COMPOSER S. BY GEORGE J. O. ALLMAN. "Vergiss die treuen Tödten nicht." KÖRNER. "Theirs is the merit, mine 'tis to record." POPE'S HOMER'S ILIAD. RECORD I.-SIMONE MAYER. (1760—1845.) The recent death of this eminent musician, who was the most dangerous rival Rossini ever encountered, and whose compositions, though now to a great extent neglected, once filled the vast musical arena of Germany and Italy with delight and admiration, induces me to begin the present series with a short sketch of his life, trusting that it will not prove uninteresting to, at least, some of my readers. Simone Mayer was a native of Sandersdorf, in Bavaria, and was born in the year 1760: at a very early age he was sent to Italy to study the art in which he afterwards became so bright an ornament; and, till the time of his death, almost entirely making that country his home, he may be considered to have achieved his fame there, since that was the theatre of his success. In 1802, after a severe contest with several very able competitors, he obtained the appointment of Maestro di Capella to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore di Bergamo— ".. no vict❜ry gained By might of interest, but gloriously won By high achievement which he filled till his death. In 1791, through the interest of Piccini, he produced at the Fenice in Venice his first opera, "Saffo." 66 In the year 1799 he brought out "Gli Originali," since better known under the title of Il Fanatico per la Musica," an opera which, although not possessing the high comic character, and sparkling and brilliant lightness, with which Cimarosa might have invested it (mainly owing to the constitutional difference between these great composers), is yet a work possessing very considerable merit, and which excited a very lively interest among the cognoscenti -we beg their pardon, savans-of Paris, on its production there, when the role of the Fanatico was so excellently represented by Barilli. The air allotted to Aristea, Che dice mal amore," is a lovely and gem-like riplet from the "cooling waters of melody, and was never more effecively given than by Madame Barilli 66 "Qui canto dolcéménte ; Quì disse una paròla; e quì sorrise." The year 1800 witnessed the triumph of his opera, Lodoiska," a work evincing high power and much originality of thought: it met with very great success. In the following year he produced a new opera buffa, "Le Duc Gironate," which is still spoken of for its comic humour and vivacity with high eulogium, though now departed from amongst us." In 1802 he produced his noble opera seria, "I mistero Eleusini," which immediately stamped him as a composer of no common order, and obtained at once a high reputation; indeed it is very generally believed that it was the influence of this opera, partaking so much of the gentle yet solid style of the immortal Mozart, that smoothed the way for the introduction and reception of that great composer's works into Italy; the prevalent feeling against them being that they would be found too difficult, both for singers and instrumentalists. It was not until the year 1812 that the exquisite "Il Don Giovanni," the master work of him whom "Death from his immortality could not Divide," was for the first time performed in Italy, a period of twenty-five years having elapsed since its first production! But notwithstanding it was brought out in a very unartistical and inefficient manner, indubitably a very great drawback, it immediately (as, how could it be otherwise) took its position there, as it had in all other countries that had witnessed its representation, as the first opera the world had ever seen; and since then all the chefs d'œuvres of this illustrious composer have been frequently performed on the Italian stage, and their sublimity and beauty duly felt and appreciated. But, to return: Mayer, in the year 1813, paid a visit to Vienna, where he enchanted the Viennese by producing an opera buffa, "L'Equivoco," which displayed great and striking originality, and tended much to raise him in the esteem of not only his own, but his adopted countrymen ; for we must not suppose otherwise than that, during his self-banishment from his own land, | (and has maintained its position) on more there were many stages than any other opera before or since produced. He also brought out this year, "Ginevra di Scozia," the drama of which is founded on the touching episode in the "Orlando Furioso" of Ariosto. What a fine and beautiful subject is this for dramatic effect! so happy and natural in its construction, and so admirably adapted to be expressed through the medium of music. No wonder that it has been so popular a subject | for young composers to work upon. There have been many that have attempted it; but, whether from the poverty and ill-desert of the music, or the recollection of Mayer, it is certain that, with the exception of a chef d'œuvre of Mohül to this story, all have ere this departed to the "tomb of all the Capulets," meeting a natural death (if being strangled at their birth be a natural death): that of Mayer, however, still continues a favourite stock opera, both in Germany and Italy, and it well deserves to be so. From this time his pen, always a facile one, was busily employed. He composed and produced altogether nearly seventy operas, generally bringing out two or three in each year, and always more or less successfully. Of these seventy it is said that scarcely one met with a determined fiasco. Amongst the most successful, besides those already recorded, may be mentioned," Albramo ed Adelasia," an opera seria, which appeared in 1808, and was performed in London some years afterwards, but without much success; though his countrymen, generally, think it the finest of his works. In 1809 another comic opera, "Il venditor d'Aceto," saw the light (or rather the stage lights), and proved very successful: its overture is very light and graceful, and is frequently used as an occasional overture both in Italy and Germany, where an opera possesses none (as is the case with many), or the original one is not relished. In 1812 he produced, perhaps the most popular of all his operas, "La Rosa bianca e la rosa rossa;" the scene being laid in England during the time of the wars of the Roses -and though, generally speaking, dramas that have a particular political tendency, even though a mere matter of history, rarely prove successful; yet in this instance-abounding as it does with strikingly dramatic situations, and melodies of the most pleasing and natural kind, the interest of the piece, which is centred in Bands, whom mutual wrong And fate and fury drive along," is well developed and sufficiently kept alive-it proved eminently so; and it may be said of this opera, that, with the exception of some of Mozart's and Rossini's, it has been represented The greater part of these works were first performed at Venice, where he sometimes made short stays; and not the least remarkable sign of his genius is, that even the most sceptical critics joined in allowing, that though he produced his operas one after another in such rapid succession, yet that they were each marked with a distinctive feature; that the music contained beauties of an entirely different character and model, and admirably in keeping with the style of the drama and business of the scene. As an instance of this, in the same season, and closely following each other, he produced his "Medea" and "Elisa," two works of the most opposite character; the former containing music of the most tragic and passionate kind, adapted to its grand and terrible subject; the latter breathing only of the most gentle and tender pathos. Both these operas have been heard in England. The "Elisa" was performed once at a private concert, given for the benefit of Ambrogetti. But it is to the celebrated tragic singer and actress, Madame Pasta, that we are indebted for our acquaintance with the beautiful "Medea in Corinto." United to the dramatic vigour and power of Gluck, in sublimity of conception, it contains much that reminds us of the exquisite tender phrases that so much distinguished Mozart. Indeed, born in the same country that gave birth to that extraordinary genius, it is no theme for wonder that he was gifted with no inconsiderable portion of "the electric fire of genius" of his predecessor, and the similarity of style, which is certainly appa rent in his works, is rather to be admired than otherwise. With Mayer, to the softer graces of the Italian canto, was added the more solid and energetic harmony of his own country, the result of a deeper mode of thought, and consequent greater acquire ments. Words fail to express the emotion caused by the sublime air in which Medea, placed between her two children, alternates from feelings of the most touching and womanly tenderness, to at once "the blaze of passion," and the most violent paroxysm of despair and revenge: in the hands of Madame Pasta it was electrifying. This fine singer united in herself the acme of tragic singing and acting; the impassioned delivery and action of the Siddons, and the wonderful vocal power of Catalani, excelling that singer by far in greatness of expression, and power of commanding the feelings of her auditory The French place Mayer, in point of merit, in the intermediate place between Mozart and Rossini; but nigher to the former than the latter: his melody, like Paers, has not the simphcity of the Italian school; but then, as is the style of his own country's harmony, his accompaniments display a higher range of idea, and are much fuller and more minutely wrought. They think that he has less enthusiasm, less comic gaiety than the latter, but that he possesses more knowledge of music as a science; that its formation and construction are superior, and more dramatic. They consider him an innovator, but with more correctness, because being a well read and well studied musician, he had more weapons to use than Rossini, and superior artistic skill taught him to use them more effectually. They argue that he never seems to proceed with his subject as its opening would presuppose; and though, from some unaccountable timidity, he seems to stop midway in his career, yet he is distinguished for the very refined mode of treating his harmonies, which forms indeed the chief characteristic of the German school. By his own countrymen he is generally termed "the diminished Mozart." Our own opinion (and the general opinion of England is the same) inclines us to place him, judging from the works with which we are already acquainted, rather below both. At times indeed he indisputably rises in the scale of art compared with Rossini, and soars above him; but, mostly, he lacks the evident dramatic tact and purpose that distinguish the Pesarese Sivan; and yet his melodies abound with the most original and expressive ideas. Who that aspires to a taste in music is unacquainted with "Oh! quanto l'anima," and "Che vuol la bella rosa?" He is also the composer of several charming canzonette di camera; among them, “Quando penso a quell' istante," a lovely and tender air. His music to Metastasio's celebrated canzonetta, "Grazie all' ungami tuoi," has become celebrated and much admired. Up to the time of his death he resided principally, and filled satisfactorily and with honour, the situation of Maestro di Capella, at Bergamo, admired and esteemed by all, not only for his great talents, but for the rare modesty by which they were accompanied. He was founder of a Conservatorie in that city. He has left numerous compositions for the church, most of which were composed before he produced his first opera, all possessing great beauty; among them a grand mass, composed in honour of his city's patron saint, and several oratorios-" Jacob a Lebano fugiens," David," "Tobiæ matrimonium," "Sisera," "Passion," "Jepthah." Of his mass, the German press of the time spoke in such terms as to lead us to suppose that it equals, if it does not almost rival, the same species of composition that has been rendered so perfect by his compatriots, Mozart and Haydn. Mayer's career may be said to have ceased on the appearance of Rossini in the musical horizon, though it was some time before Rossini could stem the torrent of public favour for our com poser; but the veteran lived to witness the triumph of his pupil Donizetti, and was avenged. Although he received repeated and most advantageous offers from London, and other countries, such was his attachment for Bergamo that he could not be induced to quit that place except for a short stay at Venice. He expired on the 2nd December, 1845, and we conclude with the apposite line of Petrarch— "Ma cèrto il mio Simón è in Paradiso." Pace! pace! pace! 236 NIAGARA. BY MISS LESLIE. "Years will roll on as they have roll'd, and thou Every good Mussulman considers it a duty to perform, once in his life, a pilgrimage to the shrine of his prophet at Mecca; and every American endeavours to make, at least, one visit to the falls of Niagara. But the most devout Osmanlee that prostrates himself before the tomb of Mahomet can feel no access of religious fervour that will compare with the sensations inspired, even in a mind and heart of ordinary sensibility, by the sight of this sublime cataract-the wonder of the Atlantic worldthe glorious temple not made with hands, where the incense of Nature rises, for ever, towards Nature's God, as the compressed waters of one vast inland sea pour down into another. so covered is the whole channel with spreading masses of snowy white.* Our next and best view of the rapids was from the bridge thrown across them to Bath island; from whence there is another and much smaller bridge to Ship island, a picturesque little spot covered with trees, most of them pines; the tallest of which slant backwards, something like the masts of a vessel; and there is one with the stem inclining forward, in the manner of a bowsprit, its lower branches almost dipping into the foam. We sat here, awhile, on a rustic bench beneath the shade, and looked up and down, and all around, scarcely knowing where to fix our eyes. Our islet lay trembling amidst the turmoil of the white and maddening waters that seemed ready every moment, as they hurried On arriving at Niagara, my young companion and myself, notwithstanding our impatience, had sufficient self-command to resolve on economiz-past, to tear it from its foundation and sweep it ing our enjoyment, or rather lengthening it out, in seeing Niagara by degrees, reserving for the last the grand view that comprises the whole of the falls at once. We found that we were right, and that the sum of our delight was greater in consequence. We began at the rapids, the first or upper part of which can be seen to great advantage from a balcony at the back of the Cataract House, that looks out directly upon it. Indeed, the rapids are so near, that small rills, and foam-wreaths belonging to them, ripple about the ground close under the windows of the hotel; so that in going out, you step over those little accessories to the stupendous torrent. The rapids commence very gradually, beginning where the bottom of the river first becomes slightly rocky. A few bells of white foam are scattered far apart on the surface of the dark green water, the current seeming to increase in velocity. As it proceeds, the foamspecks become larger and closer, till they run into long wreaths. Then these wreaths unite, and become ridges; and the ridges follow each other so closely, that they blend together into high wide crests of foam, that stretch from shore to shore; crowding one upon another, hurrying wildly on into those before them, and overtaken by those behind. By the time the rapids have passed the Cataract House, scarcely a streak of green can be discovered among them, away over the falls. Looking up the stream we saw an ocean of froth, whirling and tumbling amid fragments of sunken rock; and leaping over, and bounding off from other rocks more elevated, but so hidden amid the volumes of foam pouring over them and the clouds of smoke-like spray rising high above, that their positions could only be indicated by the war of waters raging round the impediments they vainly interposed to the passage of the resistless flood. From the ridges of this bed of rocks that had never been seen uncovered, and from their deep cavities, sprung out innumerable torrents,arching like the jet of a vast fountain, or dancing up high and sparkling in the bright blue summer air; the breeze sometimes wafting aside the cloud of snow-white mist that veiled the wild * In speaking of Niagara, it is probably most correct to designate all localities south of it, or nearer to Lake Erie, as being below the falls; for, in our hemisphere, north of course is up, and south down; though certain Yankees do talk of "down east." But it is more usual, and seemingly more natural, to regard the rapids, while they rush along to pour themselves down the rocks, as being above rather than below the cataract. And such, indeed, they are in common parlance; it being understood, on the narrow strait called the Niagara river, that down signifies towards Lewiston and Ontario, and up towards Buffalo and Erie. This may be wrong; but it seems right, at least when you are there. and graceful forms of the lesser cataracts. But the rocks, though they seemed to enrage the waters to fury, could not arrest their mighty force. On they came, terrific in all their velocity; roaring, rushing, surging, flying along as if madly eager to hasten their headlong plunge down the tremendous precipice, and roll away to lose their glories in the wide and tranquil bosom of the Ontario lake. This view of the rapids would alone have been a sufficient compensation for a much longer and more fatiguing journey. Had we seen no more, we should have seen enough. It was here I first experienced those indescribable sensations of delight, overpowered by feelings of awe and reverence, without which few have looked on Niagara. My eyes were filled with tears. I could not speak. I felt as if the spirit of the Creator was before me, and almost in his own divine form. I seemed to hear his holy voice, and feared to interrupt it. beneath the bright sky of summer, and darkening beneath a canopy of heavy storm-clouds; the lightning flashing across its ever-rolling torrents, and the thunder of upper air uniting with that whose deep tones ascend for ever from the recesses of the caverned depths below its feet. I thought how it must look tinted with the crimson and purple clouds that curtain the close of an autumnal day, "when the clear cold evening's declining," and the fantastic trees on these islands and these rocks come out in the varied and glowing colours of that gorgeous season; colours scarcely less splendid than those of the sunset sky. And in winter, when it has all its beauties to itself, when the trees are denuded, the rockplants withered, masses of ice lying along the shores, and the country round presenting one vast desert of snow; even in winter, Niagara must still be beautiful in the crystal pendents hung on the rocks and trees by its freezing spray; and sublime in the overpowering force with which it struggles against the ice that vainly essays to block up its progress. Retracing our steps, we again crossed the bridges, and then descended a high steep bank, which, when half way down, brought us in view of the whole of the American falls; the flood, on I left my companion engaged in sketching; arriving near the pitch of the precipitous ledge, and ascending the hill, I turned into what is branching off to supply a whole crescent of ca- there called The Grove, a beautiful piece of woodtaracts. Our eyes were first attracted by a land, with the trees sufficiently thinned to leave a range of three lofty rocks, the face of each pro- cool shade without obstructing the view. Foljecting out beyond that on its left side, and pre-lowing a winding path that led through it to the senting an outline that has caused them to be called the Three Profiles. Rolling over the summits of these cliffs, and pouring down in | vast white sheets tinted with the liveliest green, we saw the highest and most beautiful of the falls; light feathery flakes of foam springing off from the sides of the torrent and trickling in silver rills over the dark and broken masses of stone, from whose crevices, forever wet, grew out such shrubs and plants as love to climb about the rocks and delight in perpetual moisture. By leaning over an old crooked tree that bends forward on the verge of the steep on which we stood, we saw a lesser but very beautiful cascade pouring from a deep recess in the rock beneath our feet. Turning towards the left, we beheld the largest sheet of the American falls descending from the main branch of the rapids, and throwing itself "in one impetuous torrent down the steep," its outline retiring back towards the centre, so as to assume somewhat the form of a crescent. I was lost in admiration, transported, bewildered with delight. I could only exclaim, "See there!"—and oppressed with emotion, it was long before I could utter another word. When my thoughts and feelings began to take a definite form, my only regret was that every being that I loved, every one indeed that I knew, was not there at that moment to look at Niagara. It seemed like something too grand, too beautiful to last; like a magnificent scene that would pass away while we were yet gazing on it. I could imagine nothing more charming than to live in its immediate neighbourhood for at least a year; seeing it under all its different aspects; in sunshine and in tempest; glittering verge of the cliffs, I suddenly emerged upon a view of what I easily recognized as the great Horse-shoe Fall, curved into the form that its name denotes, extending entirely across the river, and resting its farthest extremity against the Table Rock on the Canada shore, with the Clifton House in its immediate vicinity. The whole assemblage of the Niagara Falls was now before me in all their varied forms of grandeur and beauty. My nephew soon joined me; and exclaimed that the scene was well worth a voyage across the Atlantic. Many persons have acquired an erroneous idea that the immediate environs of Niagara are tame, common-place, and in no way corresponding to the sublimity of the cataract, which has been said, by some, to owe much to the effect of contrast. This is the reverse of truth. But there are people so prone to cavilling at everything, (or so devoid of taste) as to enjoy nothing; and some few of these profess themselves disappointed at Niagara. They are much to be pitied. Nature is always true to herself, and the land-scenery about Niagara is in unison with that of the water. The rocks, chiefly sandstone and blue limestone, are lofty, wild, and rugged. Some are nearly perpendicular, some slope back, and others project forward, impending over the waters that rage below. In some places they are deeply indented or honey-combed by the incessant action of the spray flying against them. The trees and wild vines, that grow out from the fissures of these rifted walls, appear to give them support, as well as to derive it from them; clasping their tangled and dripping roots and their twining branches against the masses of cracked, disjointed stone which seem already |