THE GERMAN "DON JUAN."
THE long-expected Don Juan was at last brought out on Wednes- day, for the benefitof Madame SCHROEDER-DEYRIE NT; but it was with "maimed rites." PELLEGRINI, who should have been the Don Juan, having terminated his engagement and taken his de- parture, this part was given to Hausan, who should have been the Leporello ; and Leporello was performed—or rather not per- formed—by CrUNTHER. It is impossible to visit either of these performers with censure for their misfortune in being thrust into parts entirely out of their line ; but H AITSER, who would doubtless have made an excellent Leporello, had none of the high bearing and finished manners of the aristocratic Spanish roué; and GUN- had not a spark of the levity of Leporello.
The subject of Don Juan, originally Spanish, has been often dra- matized; but the Italian playwright (for this is originally an Italian, not a German opera) has not been successful in its treat- ment. It is not comparable either to MOLIERE'S Festin de Pierre or the old English play of the Libertine. Its opening, with Don Juan's midnight assault on Donna Anna—the murder of her fa- ther, and her distraction over his body—is fine and striking; but, after that, we have only a coterie, consisting of this lady, her lover, and the libertine's deserted wife, following him about, from place toplace (something like the pursuit of Harlequin in a pantomime), with some purpose of vengeance, which they never take any intel- ligible means of accomplishing. Thus, the parts of Donna Anna and Octavio, which open in an impassioned manner, gradually dwindle away, in the course of the piece, into utter insignificance. The introduction of the little country flirt Zerlina, however, and lier rustic lover, is a pleasant relief among such unmeaning inci- dents; and the catastrophe is calculated to strike the imagination, if not to move the feelings. But the piece is destitute of interest, —a most essential quality in every drama, whether serious or comic_ Our solicitude about the fate of Donna Anna ceases with the lhistacine. Octavio is a walking gentleman. .Elvira, though vituaoon, tnefett be interesting, never says or does a thing that =ekes tie care a farthing about her. Don Juan isa profligate, (lemma to go to the Devil; and Leporello is as great a rogue as I hi master. The little Zselina is next door to vicious ; anti her loves Mau:Wm in Blackwoud phrase, is a " sumph." A goodly tireeedit eeraeace Tlite Moz.ter, out of such materials, has produced the greatest. of his wesks, is the most emphatic proof of his genius. It is full of " aim from heaven," as well as " blasts front hell." From the overtme, with its wild and mysterious introduction and its Mt- pettious allegro, to the solemn cheral strains at the conclusion, the whole is one display of mighty power, mar soaring flight into the • highest regions of imagination. The de,perate grief of the be- reaved daughter, changing into a stern desire of vengeance—the voluptuous insouciance of theelibertine—the passionate devotion of the lover—the playful coquetry of the rustic damsel, and the irre- sistible sweetness of the blandishments by which she subdues her offended swain,—all are expressed in "most eloquent music'—all save the baffoonery of Leporello. Moz ART, naturally serious, tender, and melancholy, could be cheerful and even gay ; but he is rarely comic, and of the whimsical exuberance of theItalian b niro style he had not the faintest idea. Conceive what ROSSINI would have made of Leporello's catalogue of his master's bonnes fortunes .P MOZART has made it beautiful; Rossear would have made it as laughter-moving as Figaro's "Large al factotum." It is invidious to make comparisons between beautiful works of art with the view of exalting the one at the expense of the other. "What matters it," says MARMONTEL somewhere, "whether the peach or the nec- tarine have the sweetest flavour?" But one great work calls up the idea of others most akin to it; and having so lately heard the c7u9" damcre of BEETHOVEN, we could not but remark the different species of pleasure which these two works afford. In listening to Don Juan, the mind is "lapped in Elysium ;" we feel as in Pi-os- , pero's enchanted isle, " full of sweet airs, which give delight, and hurt not ;" the very atmosphere seems impregnated with music. • If we are unskilled in the art, our pleasure, though exquisite, is vague : if we understand it, we trace with delight the marks of , inimitable skill and taste exhibited in every part of it, down to the most delicate breathings from the orchestra. The ideas of grief, or terror, are raised in our mind, but the emotions themselves never. But, in Fidelio, our musical pleasure is so lost in sympathy with the passion of the scene, that we are unconscious of receiving it ; ' and it is only by reflection that we come to estimate how much of the intensity of our feelings is to be ascribed to the genius of BEETHOVEN, or of Madame SCHROEDER. This difference argues nothing in regard to the comparative quality of the music; but it shows how much the powers of Music are heightened when she makes a happy marriage with Poetry. Don Juan, as now got up, cannot, we are sorry to say, be success- ful. The splendid style in which it was performed, in its original Italian dress, when brought by Mr. AYRTON, is so fresh in the recollection of every musician, that the present performance - suffers cruelly by the comparison. This remark, however, does not apply to Madame SCHROEDER; whose Donna Anna was a
splendid display of talent, both vocal and dramatic ; nor to HAITZINGER, who sang beautifully, and acted as well as the insi- pidity of the character would allow. The concerted pieces and
choruses were executed with true German accuracy and effect; and the band did its duty admirably. The scenery, however, was but mediocre; and the diabolical machinery at the end was so mismanaged as to produce a very ludicrous combination with the unearthly music of Manna'.
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