THEATRES AND MUSIC.
Her Majesty's Theatre, after three " farewell nights " added to the regu- lar season, closed its doors last Saturday; and the Royal Italian Opera, after three " extra nights," at reduced prices, of which yesternight was the last, has also shut its doors for the year.
This is the conclusion of the third season of two great Italian theatres in London; and we are naturally led to consider how far the lapse of an- other year has thrown light on the question, whether the rivalry of these houses has tended to the advantage of the musical stage, the welfare of the musical profession, the improvement of musical taste, and the real enjoy- ments of the musical public. This question cannot be said to be decided in the negative, for the experiment, we understand, is to be continued; nor is it decided in the affirmative, for the expediency of continuing the con- test, on the side of the party which originated it, is more doubtful than ever.
The season just ended has not, at either house, exhibited many remark- able features. The strength of both companies has been great, and pretty evenly balanced. At Her Majesty's Theatre, three performers of eminent talent have made their debut in England; Mademoiselle Parodi, the pupil of Pasta, who, with considerable vocal powers, possesses tragic genius of a high order; Madame Giuliani, whose excellent performance of second parts has strengthened every opera in which she has appeared; and Signor Cal- zolari, a tenor of high and merited Continental reputation. The tenor department was further strengthened by the return of Moriani; and the contralto, Mademoiselle Alboni, was transferred from the other hpuse to a greatly extended sphere of action. The farewell of Jenny Lind, and the reappearance of the celebrated Sontag, after a retirement of twenty years, with powers enlarged instead of being diminished, are events which will be memorable in the annals of the musical stage. Nothing has been done either in the production of new or in the revival of old operas. All the pieces which have been performed are familiar to the public; but some of the masterpieces of Mozart and Rossini—particularly the Don Giovanni, Figaro, Semiramide, the Barbiere di Siviglia, and the Gazza Ladra—have been represented with a greater strength of- cast than in any former season that we remember. At Covent Garden, the com- pany has been the same as last year, with a few changes of secondary moment; Dorus Gras, Miss Hayes, Angri, and Sims Reeves, having had no important share in the performances of the season. The most notable occurrences of the season have been the production of Masaniello, which did not repay the expense bestowed on it; the revival of the Huguenots, with Grisi instead of Viardot in the character of the heroine; and the splendid and successful performance of the Prophete. With these exceptions, there was no novelty; the pieces, generally speaking, being the same as at the other house.
In turning from the past to the future, it is material to take into view the degree of success with which these rival establishments are carried on. If we find one of them attended with ruinous expense, the conclusion is, either that it ought not to have been undertaken at all, or that it has been erroneously conducted. On this subject there in no occasion for speaking with reserve. In regard to Her Majesty's Theatre, it is well known that the present lessee has raised the character and credit of that establishment to a height previously unknown—that his punctual payments and honour- able fulfilment of every engagement form a striking contrast to the deal- ings of his predecessors. Such a course affords evidence of his success, and is a guarantee for his stability. As to the Royal Italian Opera, on the other hand, it is matter of notoriety that a series of enormous losses has terminated in bankruptcy; that many of the salaries still remain unpaid; that the theatre has for some time been kept open by a sort of pro- visional committee of the performers on their own account; and that, if re- opened next season, it must be on a new speculation and by means of new capital.' If continued according to the plan hitherto adopted, what reason is there for expecting a different result? If its entertainments continue to be (as they have been with few exceptions) identical with those of Her Majesty's Theatre—if they are equally costly to the undertakers and to the public without exhibiting any marked superiority of character— how are we to suppose that they will draw the votaries of Italian music away from a theatre which for generations has been the great resort of the rank, wealth, and fashion of England? The projectors of the Royal Italian Opera originally announced different views. Their professed objects were at once to exalt the character of the Italian stage, and to place its en- tertainments, hitherto confined to the great and wealthy, within the reach of the general public. Has either object been attained? The diminution of prices has been too trifling to accomplish the latter, while the expense of the establishment—ruinous even at the prices adopted—has rendered a ma- terial diminution impossible. How far an Italian opera on a small scale of expense, without a host of stars, depending on its ensemble, and accommo- dated to the pockets of the playgoing public, might succeed in this country, is still an open question, for the experiment has not been tried. It is impossible for the most friendly observer to say that the Covent Garden management has done anything to raise the character of the Italian stage. The Royal Italian Opera started with a company of unparalleled strength. Mr. Lumley, before he was aware of it, was deprived of his own constellation of talent with the single exception of Lablache, and Eurcpe was ransacked in such a manner as made it almost impossible for him to recruit his army. At the head of the deserters was his experienced chef d'orchestre, and his magnificent band, containing nearly all the instru- mental talent in London. He seemed left naked and without resource; and his prospects were gloomy indeed, till they were brightened by the advent of Jenny Lind. But how did the rival establishment use its giant strength?
During the first season, the operas at Covent Garden were, with hardly an exception, the same that had been current at the Haymarket,—the
productions of Rossini, Mini, Donizetti, and Verdi, with the Figaro and Don Giovanni of Mozart. In the second season, the only additions to the repertoire were tho French operas of Guillaume Tell and the Huguenots. In the ,third season, the additions have been Masaniello, Robert le Diable (previously produced- at Her Majesty's Theatre,) the Matrimonio Segreto (which had often been performed at the other house,) and the Prophets. The Huguenots and the Prophets have made a great impression on the
public, and their production has done credit to the theatre; but in other respects there has been no material difference in respect to selection be- tween the two houses. With regard to the two pieces just mentioned, though we are glad, exceptionally speaking, that they have been produced, yet we should by no means rejoice in a more extensive importation from the Grand Opera of Paris. The French opera has always been an enter- tainment peculiarly adapted to the national taste—a melange, of which spectacle and dancing are not mere accessories, but component parts. This has been the case from the days of Lull to those of Meyerbeer. A story is told of an opera of the former composer. It had not much success; and as Lulli and the dramatist were considering how they could add to its at- traction, " I know but one way," said a friend who stood by; " you must lengthen the dances and shorten the petticoats." But we think differently in England; and the long ballets in French operas are found impertinent rather than entertaining. The French school of singing is not congenial to Italian voices or agreeable to English ears; and composers for the French stage have carried instrumentation to a pitch that overpowers the singers and stuns the listener.
This extravagant instrumentation, though carried to the greatest excess on the French stage, is the prevailing musical vice of the day. It is partly the fault of the composer, but is also owing to the size of modern orches-
tras, and their manner of playing. The evil has been growing from time immemorial. Nearly a century ago, Padre Martini of Bologna wrote to
his pupil Jomelli, in a strain of bitter irony—" Pray don't disdain to follow my example, and I will answer for it you will be satisfied with the result. A majestic, grand, and impressive harmony, an observance of the strict rules of counterpoint, a melody with little accompaniment—these form the admiration of ancient matrons and learned dilettanti; but the plain and unlearned will have noise, otherwise they fall asleep. What, then, is to be done? Why, have recourse to the trumpet, the drum, the cymbal, and the trombone. This will awake them, and throw them into raptures; no- thing will do but that thundering harmony which seems to invite to battle and rouses the sluggish blood to deeds of death. This is the presiding genius of our age, and will perhaps become still more so in that which is to follow. The learned will blame the composer if they please, but the multitude will cry, Viva il maestro!' Dear Jomelli, be advised by your old master; follow the path he points out to you, and let the Aristar- chuses talk as they may."—What would the venerable Padre have said,
had his ears been assailed by the drums, trumpets, trombones, and ophi-
oleides of Costa's band, employed on the " thundering harmonies " of the Huguenots or the Prophete! The immense size of this magnificent band is not to us, indeed, any recommendation. Half the number of good and well-trained performers would render the same harmonies with greater clearness and more impressive effect, while the singers would make them- selves heard without efforts equally painful to themselves and their hearers.
Beethoven said that an orchestra should never exceed fifty or sixty, even for a great symphony: how absurd, then, to employ eighty or ninety to ac- company vocal music! When the composer is guiltless of this instru- mental extravagance, the chef d'orchestre must have his own thunder. Even the exquisite scores of Mozart are not suffered to escape; and Balfe, in this respect, is as much to blame as Costa. The other night, and while Sontag was singing, the delicate accompaniments of the Norse di Figaro were strengthened by trombones and an ophicleide; though the author has not employed even drums and trumpets above half a dozen times in the whole opera, and that very sparingly. The orchestra of Her Majesty's Theatre was, for a time, greatly inferior to that of Covent Garden. But it is to be remembered that the magnifi- cent orchestra which Costa carried away with him had been Mr. Lumley's, and that it became necessary to form a new one; a difficult task at any time, and most especially so under the circumstances. The new orchestra was of course very imperfect at first; but it has been brought by Mr. Balfe into a state of great efficiency, and leaves little or nothing to be desired. The same thing is the case with the chorus; and in all the accessories which conduce to dramatic effect, as well as in the quality of the acting and sing- ing, the performances at Her Majesty's Theatre, as far as our observation goes, have never been excelled. Nothing is done by either house in the production of new operas; and for a good reason—there are no new operas to present. The only com- poser who writes Italian operas is Verdi; of whom we have had more than enough. But ought we for that reason to be dieted ad nauseam with an eternal round of stale dishes? Why not have recourse to the Italian writers anterior to the age of Rossini? why confine ourselves to one opera of Ci- marosa, and to two of Mozart? why not explore the works of Jomelli, Saccbini, Mayer, Peer, and other great Italians of the last century? why
not produce some of the masterpieces of Gluck? It is said that those an- tiquated works would not please modern taste. We do not believe it. The principles of beauty in music, as in the other arts, are eternal; and
works, essentially grand and beautiful in themselves, may be accommo- dated to modern taste by changes in what may be called their mere cos- tume,—by abridging the length of the recitatives, divesting the airs of their formal prolixity, and increasing the variety and fullness of the orchestral score. Such treatment would require a skilful and delicate band; but it would, we are convinced, bring to light many rich gems, enlarge the taste, and heighten the enjoyment of the public. A sprinkling of old works, thus revived, even though inferior to some of the great productions of more modern art, would form an agreeable variety, and a style to which the public are now unaccustomed would have much of the piquancy and fresh- ness of absolute newness.
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