mental and bodily powers, the young artist studied with enthusiasm the noble models of genius left by the composers of a by-gone age, at the same time that he was favoured by the personal friendship of their equally great successors, Hasse and Jomelli, whose works then held the first place in public estimation. With these models and in this society, engaged also in composing an Italian opera for native artists, his ardent temperament could not fail to be deeply impressed by the melodies, so congenial to his feelings, which he heard constantly floating around him: in short, they became a part of his being, modified by his immense stores of learning, tinged with the pensive cast of northern art, and rendered more lovely and fresh by his consummate skill in suiting the music to the passions, nay, to the minutest shades of the characters he pourtrayed. He created a new era in the art by so blending the two styles as to form a school of his own more excellent than either; characterised also by attention to truth and nature, rather than fettered by conventional rules. Hence, as a dramatic composer, he excels alike his predecessors and his followers; others may have written works irreproachable when considered in the abstract, but they are deficient in that nice adaptation indispensable to correct delineation of character. Mozart is the Shakspeare of music. To our countrymen, who are too much inclined to regard music in the light of a merely sensual gratification, an intimate acquaintance with his works cannot fail to impart, both as regards composition and performance, more just and elevated conceptions respecting operatic excellence. While, then, we diligently study Mozart and follow out the principles on which he wrote, let us not regard him as a mere musician, but as a dramatic poet whose language is music.

Don Giovanni has been performed over the whole civilized world; volumes have been written analyzing its merits, arrangements have been published for every instrument, its songs have furnished motivos for piano forte writers and performers of every grade; this insatiable repetition and imitation, these innumerable parodies, would have exhausted a more trivial work, while this master-piece still remains the highest treat which can be offered to the lovers of dramatic music. In whatever point of view we regard it, whatever may be our own individual taste or theory, we must be in no small degree fastidious if it fulfil not our idea of perfection. The “sublime, the beautiful, and the ornamental," are here found in due proportion; lovely and vocal melodies, ingenious instrumentation, contrapuntal corrrectness, and modern freedom, combined with so much grandeur of conception and exquisite finish in the execution, that it

may admit of doubt whether Don Giovanni will ever be equalled, surpassed it cannot be. It is, therefore, to be hoped that the manager may be compelled, by the improving taste and growing knowledge of the public, to produce, more frequently than he has hitherto done, so stupendous a monument of dramatic genius.

Le Nozze di Figaro, although it does not rank so high as a work of art, possibly on account of the subject requiring a more one-sided treatment, is nevertheless replete with enchanting melodies, interesting yet natural harmonies, and above all it contains concerted pieces which will ever serve as models in this difficult, and therefore now neglected, part of dramatic composition. How skilfully are the various characters exhibited! how clear is the expression of their feelings! and how rich their effect when brought into collision by the concerted pieces! Perhaps the finest, though least generally known, parts of this opera are the sextet Riconosci in quest' amplesso, and the finale to the second act. Among the airs may be mentioned Al desio di chi t'adora, as a specimen of the true style of the opera song. Would that our great artists displayed their powers more frequently on such compositions! And although the attention and applause usually bestowed upon the performer would be shared by the composer, yet if the former have a proper sense of the dignity of his calling, he will prefer rendering the conceptions of the mighty master, and producing in the minds of the audience the feelings and the effects which he intended to create, to the poor ambition of exciting astonishment by feats of mere mechanical dexterity, which, in the estimation of the enlightened critic, hold no higher rank than the tours de force of a tumbler or a rope-dancer.

Cosi fan tutte, in comparison with the two former operas, produces a similar effect to a water-colour drawing by the side of an historical painting. This may be in part attributed to the flimsy materials, the entire absence of plot, and the miserable diction: to supply the deficiencies of the poet and to construct a dramatic whole on so imperfect a foundation, called for no ordinary degree of skill in the musician. As the characters are of his own conception and invention (in the hands of the poet they are mere sketches)—they require to be examined and criticized accordingly. It is, therefore, to be regretted that Mr. Hogarth should have revived the old charge brought against Mozart's comic operas, that they contain too great a degree of seriousness and sentimentality.* As, in the present instance, however, had the music been constructed on the model of

* Musical History, p. 265.

VOL. VI.-NO. XX.

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the words, few would have had the patience to listen to it, no plan could have been more judicious than that of presenting a succession of exquisite musical miniatures, consisting of inexhaustibly lovely melodies, with delicately instrumented accompaniments. A lofty style would only have rendered the absurdity of the poem more conspicuous, while Italian buffoonery and volubility are too remote from nature and feeling to impart that moral interest which can alone confer on any work of art the power of pleasing, after productions of greater cotemporary fame (because complying with and flattering the false taste of the day) have been consigned to oblivion. The tone which pervades alike this opera and Figaro, is that of refined society, or rather of the beau ideal of it, which Goldsmith, Sheridan, and Cumberland have so happily attained in their comedies. To assert that these would have been improved by a mixture of low buffoonery, that they are too serious-too heavy, is not a more palpable absurdity than to maintain that Mozart would have been greater had he been capable of descending to vulgarity. But the English public have yet to learn the distinction between a comic opera and a musical farce. Cosi fan tutte is an excellent example of the former, I Virtuosi ambulanti of the latter.

If we refer to the classical Italian school, we find that Paisiello, by depicting the passions with equal truth and beauty, has produced in his Barbiere di Seviglia a genuine musical comedy. Nor should it be forgotten, that, in music as well as in literature and in acting, the acme of the ridiculous is frequently obtained by the contrast between the gravity of the narrator and the ludicrous situation in which he is placed. It would prove highly interesting to pursue these speculations more in detail. It cannot but form a subject for regret, that, in England, music being regarded either as a branch of learning or as an accomplishment, and never as a vehicle for the expression of our familiar feelings, we remain, in consequence, still so far behind our German brethren in its application to the passions and emotions, as to compel us to abide by their decision on all æsthetic questions. Our love for the art is intense, and all the elements of musical greatness are in existence in this country, but as yet encumbered by the dross of ignorance, prejudice, and inexperience. Instead, therefore, of criticising the chef d'œuvres of a great master because they do not, in all respects, accord with our present views, it would be wiser to distrust the correctness of our own taste until we have bestowed some pains in acquiring an intimate knowledge of the principles on which he wrote. Were the modesty, the deference to a great name which is observed in the criticism of the

other arts extended to music, the good effects of this course would become visible in the amelioration of public taste which must necessarily ensue.

The opera before us is eminently characteristic of Mozart, yet we perceive that the poet is unbending himself, and lowering the dignity of his style, while by imparting to it additional grace he renders it to the majority of his hearers more attractive. His dramatic talent is equally conspicuous in this instance as in the works before noticed; the characters are distinctly and naturally represented, and the effect of their peculiarities heightened by the art with which they are contrasted. Concerted pieces do not form so prominent a feature, nor are they on so grand a scale; yet the quintett, Alla bella Despinetta, is excellent, and the finale to the first act contains some elaborate and masterly writing. Of the arietts and duets which abound throughout the opera, it might be difficult to find their rivals in loveliness, except in the unknown works of the neglected and slighted Winter. Ah! guarda sorella is an instance of the simple means by which Mozart attains some of his most delightful effects; the melting of the andante into the clear allegro is peculiarly happy. The duetto Fra gli amplessi is a beautiful specimen of the union of grandeur and pathos. The whole scene is admirably treated, and deserves attentive study; the change into C at the allegretto is most impressive, and the loftiness of the impassioned address of Ferando cannot be surpassed. The return into the key of A is skilfully effected; every note enhances the dramatic effect; nothing is admitted merely for the sake of the modulation. But it is the andante which winds our feelings from the highest pitch of excitement into an extacy of pleasure. Words are inadequate to convey an idea of this most delicious movement; it must be heard, or, still better, studied, and the more closely it is examined the higher will the composer rise in our estimation. The part of Ferando is distinguished throughout by pathos, grace, and refinement. Una aura amarosa and Ah ti veggio are strains which will be listened to with pleasure in every age. Although the part of Fiordegli contains music both dignified and impressive, it is occasionally tinged by the conventional style calculated to display the prima donna of the day. Despina and Dorabella enjoy the advantages accorded to persons in their humble sphere, both in real life and on the stage, of displaying the impulses of their nature unrestrained by art or fashion. Una donna a quindici anni, and Amore un Ladroncello, are favourable specimens of their respective characters. Guglielmo has the rare merit of being a comic personage without the slightest tinge of

vulgarity; but, although his vein of light merriment prevents much depth from entering into the construction of the music which he sings, I am inclined to think that La mia Dorabella, Non siate ritrosi, and E voi ridete, are the best known and most popular parts of this opera. It is altogether a charming production, and one which deserves to be frequently brought before the public.

The Zauberflöte enjoys on the continent a reputation second only to Don Giovanni; it is, perhaps, the most universally and durably popular opera in the German language. In England, on the contrary, while separate morceaux are general favourites, it does not appear to have been sufficiently appreciated by scientific musicians. Nor is this, taking into consideration the manner in which parts have been adapted and mutilated, much to be wondered at, especially as, until the arrival of the German company, it had not been for many years performed entire in London. The practice of adapting and altering should be discountenanced by all who are desirous of raising the dignity of the art and of preserving the purity of public taste. No practice can prove more fatal to the reputation of a composer than the transformation of an air or duet into a psalm tune, of the subject of a symphony into a song, or an elegant aria into a quadrille. The march for instruments in this opera has furnished the subject for a psalm, and the trio Oh cara armonia, elegant and appropriate where it occurs, has been adapted to the words "Away with Melancholy," denuded of instrumental accompaniments. The conspiracy, indeed, appears to have been general, scarcely an air in the opera but has been seized and mutilated to suit the introductions to the piano forte, flute and violin preceptors, &c. The consequence is that the majority of persons associate the lighter portions with the miseries of their days of pupilage and practice, while with the more serious parts, and the scientific development and connection of the whole, they are entirely unacquainted. While conceding that in this country justice has not been rendered to its merits, it may form a question whether they have not been too highly estimated by the Germans. Among popular operas it undoubtedly is deserving of the first place; but, considered scientifically and as a whole, the music is deficient in depth, grandeur, and connection. The expectations excited by the overture (decidedly the finest of the sombre cast ever written) are no where fulfilled. It scarcely admits of doubt that, had Mozart consulted his own feelings, instead of conforming to the frivolous taste of his audience, he would have written very differently. Experience, however, had taught him that he could not commit any error more dangerous to