MUSIC.
Published Music in " Matikla of Hungary."
A new opera, in this country, is never published as an entire work; an emphatic indication of the state of our musical stage. Setting aside Italy —once the cradle and now the grave of the opera—the case is very dif- ferent on the Continent. In Germany, every opera, new and old, distin- guished by merit or success, may be purchased in a complete form; and we find the same thing in France. Though music is about as expensive there as it is here, yet every new opera that succeeds, either at the Aca- demie or the Opera Comique, is forthwith published; every note of the music, from the overture to the finale—recitatives, airs, duets, concerted scenes, and choruses: nay, more, it is published not only in a pianoforte arrangement but in a full orchestral score. In these forms we can pur- chase every remarkable work of the French stage, from Gluck to Meyer- beer and Halevy. The editions are very handsome, and very dear: for example, we observe that the full score of Halevy's last opera, Les Mous- guetaires de ks Reine, is sold at the price of 400 francs, or 161. sterling. And these publications pay, otherwise they would not be so uniformly persisted in. It is almost superfluous to talk of their value as studies, models, or beacons, for the young composer, or as interesting objects of perusal to the amateur and critic; for it is only by perusal that many of the qualities and faults of an opera can be thoroughly perceived, whether as regards its construction as a whole or the elaboration of its details. In England we have no such thing; and, in the present state of our musical stage, it does not matter; for this stage produces nothing that can serve as a study to the composer, or that can give pleasure to the amateur who is conversant with the higher forms of the art. An English opera is not written with any view to durability. Haydn said that he took a long time to compose The Creation in order that it might last a long time: our composers may say that they take a short time to write their operas as they are meant to last a short time. A present run of the season at the theatre, and a brisk sale at the music-shops of a few pieces made ad cap- tandem, seem to limit the wishes of the manufacturers; who, when one piece of goods is worn out, set about fabricating another of the same pattern.
Several of the most showy and popular pieces in Mr. Wallace's new opera have just appeared in print, entirely detached from each other, and without any indication, by paging or otherwise, that they are to form parts of a connected publication. Their perusal can thus neither confirm nor correct the impressions respecting their merits as parts of a whole—the judgment or the want of it displayed in their enchainment, derived from the performance of the piece: but it has fully confirmed what we have al- ready said, that the music "is fluent, animated, and showy, never rousing the listener by bold and original thoughts, nor moving him by strokes of feeling; but affording much of the mere auricular gratification which is derived from pleasing musical sounds."
We observe, in these published pieces, repeated instances of the want of the dramatic element in Mr. Wallace's music. Like most of his modern
brethren, he seems to have DO idea of those principles of art which many composers have acted upon by the instinct of genius, but which Gluck re* dueed to a system, and thus became the most dramatic of musicians. To be sure, Gluck began at the beginning, by seeking out a poet capable of giving him dramatic materials to work upon,—a thing which our com- posers, unhappily for themselves and us, have not the means of doing. But still they are bound to make the best of their materials, and not to render them still worse by ill-treatment. Take, for example, the trio between Podiebrad, Magnus, and Mathias. It begins by Magnus saying, (very grammatically, by the way!)
"To see my King from care and peril free, None can rejoice more ardently than me." The singer says, "To see my King from care"; the voice stops, and the accompaniments go on for three bars, after which the sentence is completed. The punctuation is thus- " To see my King from care. And peril free," &c.
rendering the phrase unintelligible nonsense. Similar contempt of rhe- toric is apparent not only in the remainder of this piece, but in almost every other that we take up. Looking at random, we find Podiebrad, on catching a glimpse of his unknown fair one, exclaiming to Magitus, (no- body else being by,) "Tell me, whom is it I see!" Tell, the emphatio word, is made a slight unaccented syllable, while a strong accent is laid upon me: "Tell me,"—as if Podiebrad meant to say, tell nobody else. These sort of blemishes are innumerable; and when we observe them, we cease to wonder at our English singers failing so egregiously to make themselves intelligible on the stage.
In the duet just mentioned, however, there are some really dramatic pas- sages. The military march, and chorus of the people, heard in the distance, and blending with the voices of the persons on the stage, have an admirable effect; marred, however, by the excessive poverty of the melody which forms part of the caballetto of the duet. Another duet, "This deep af- front," between Matilda and Podiebrad, is much superior, and deserves to become popular both in concert and chamber singing.
The ballads have not the slightest glimmering of dramatic character; nor, indeed, have their words any connexion with the subject of the opera. They are all in the trite and familiar style to which such things are reduced by prescriptive usage, and they might have been sung in any other opera as well: they are smooth and flowing, however; and most of them are redeemed from insipidity by some musician-like trait,—as, for example, in "Adieu, fair land," the attention is arrested, in the ninth bar, by the sudden introduction of the chord of G flat. We are inclined, on the whole, to give the preference to "A lowly youth, the mountain child," though it is assigned to one of the inferior characters. There is nothing new in it, but its Tyrolese rhythm is piquant. If we remember rightly, Miss Isaacs, by her simple and unpretending way of singing it, on the first night, gained a double encore. On the whole, Mr. Wallace has produced a collection of very clever pieces; some of which are calculated to obtain all that seems to be wanted, a temporary popularity. But Matilda of Hungary, whether as a dramatic or a musical work, has no pretensions to the title of a great serious opera.
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