3iingir.
NEvER, perhaps, even during the height of the furore at the Adelphi a year ago, has the Colleen Baum been so inevitable a topic of con- versation as at present. The Lily of Killarney, produced at Covent- garden on Monday night, turns out to be—as, in fact, was antici- pated—a very old friend with a very new face. Mr. Boucicault has slightly altered the situation of his drama, Mr. Oxenford has written a number of songs, &c., in orthodox operatic style, and introduced them with skill, Mr. Benedict, after fourteen years' almost unbroken rest as an operatic composer, has exerted all his powers, and the result is the "grand romantic opera" which one "everybody" went to see on Monday night, and another and larger "everybody" has been talking about ever since. It will be clear, therefore, to all, that the production of the Lily of Killarneyis no ordinary event, either from a musical or a dramatic point of view,—au event, in fact, on which even Herr Richard Wagner and his transcendental disciples might bestow a glance, if they could descend for a moment from the coitus of their unknown Muse. Certainly no new opera of late years has given more employment to critics. Columns upon columns have :heady been written upon the transplantation of the Colleen Baum, and Mr. Benedict's music seems for the present to be in great danger of sharing—as far as regards critical attention—the fate of the fly in amber, which, according to Canning, nobody cares about, but every- body wonders how it got there. Whatever the relative importance of the antecedents of the libretto may be, it is clearly the point to be considered first, and after witnessing attentively two performances of the opera, I cannot help coming to the conclusionthat the conversion of the Adelphi drama into the Covent Garden opera has been a perilous, if not ill-advised step on the part of all concerned in the transaction. Mr. Benedict has restricted the popularity of his music by its association with a drama in the performance of which there are such inherent difficulties ; Mr. Boucicault has withdrawn a play of which the public were never weary, in order to obtain for it a more glittering, though less real, success in an opera ; and Miss Louisa Pyne and Mr. Harrison, in assuming, the characters of Myles and Eily, have courted comparison with the incomparable. It is not difficult to explain the cause of the success of the Colleen Baton in its old form. It was not the sensation effects alone, as the partisans of the "legitimate drama" contemptuously asserted. It certainly was not, as M. Alphonse Esquiros suggested in Les dnglais chezeux, the fact that the Queen had been three times to see it. It was because a perfect picture of Irish life, adapted from fact by a master hand, was set on the stage and performed with a nearer approach to the are quee celat artent than had ever before been attained that the Colken Bawnbecame a household word. The startling reality of the swealled sensation scene was but in harmony with the still more wonderful fidelity to nature of Mr. and Mrs. Boucicault's acting. In the Lily of Killarney the illusion is at once dispelled. The secret of the Colleen Bawn was its approach to reality, and the very essence of opera is brilliant unreality. The worst possible course, too, has been taken in the adaptation of the drama. An approach even to a homogeneous whole could only have been secured by the adoption of one of two courses. The librettists might have struck boldly at the roots of operatic tradition, and given the songs in brogue as well as the dialogue, and the com- poser have given a genuine couleur loca:e to the music, thereby combining to produce a real Irish opera; or, on the other hand, Danny and Kyles should have been arrayed in purple and fine linen, the dialogue recast, and the situations and music only depended upon for success. As it is, an unsatisfactory compromise has been made, and the occasional attempts at Hibernicisms in the music, and brogue in the dialogue, only tend to render the unreality of the whole more glaring. However, the ill-assorted union is now in fait accompli, and I turn with pleasure to a brief description of Mr. Benedict's music, reserving more detailed remarks until next week. To commence with the overture, which was vehemently encored on the first night, it is not too much to say that its composer has produced a work likely to take a high stand as an orchestral composition, a success which in these days of ne,glect of this im- portant constituent of an opera, is doubly remarkable. Without any slavish imitation, it shows that Mr. Benedict did not in vain receive instructions from the great composer of Oberon. The only matter for regret is, that the introduction of the first tenor air, "It is a charming girl I love," which is Hibernicis ipsis Hibernior in character, should have been deemed necessary. The melodies, with which the opera abounds, although, with one or two exceptions, not of a popular and catching character, are pure, elegant, and original. The duets, trios, and concerted pieces are all most scientifically constructed, and the orchestral accompaniments are marked by genius and musical science. The performance on the first night was un- exceptionable. Miss Louisa Pyne, as Eily, delights tier audience equally with her exquisite rendering of the beautiful melody "Fin alone," as by her brilliant display of vocalization in the rondo finale. Mr. Harrison, as Myles, sang to perfection, both in "It is a charm- ing girl" and in the "Lullaby" serenade. Mr. Santley was Danny Mann, and brought down the house in almost every one of the nume- rals songs allotted to him. Hardre.ss was represented by Mr. Henry Haigh, who threw an. unusual amount of feeling into his principal song, "Eily Mavourneen," and at length showed signs of advance in his acting. The part of Father Tom, which has unaccountably been shorn of all its joviality, and reduced to the insipidity of a Palmerston bishop, was gone through by Mr. Patey. Miss Susan Pyne was scarcely equal to the matronly dignity of Mrs. Cregax, and Miss Jessie M‘Lean can hardly be said to have been successful as Anne Chute. Her only song, "The eye of love is keen," although sung with much taste, was received without a single mark of approval, simply because it could not be heard. Her voice, though sweet and thoroughly cultivated, is not of sufficient power to fill the immense theatre.
The performance of the orchestra was irreproachable, and the shout of " Mellon" at the conclusion was sufficient to show that the public have not yet been converted to the trenchant theory of a contemporary, that the "contortions and grimaces" of conductors are of no importance to the general effect of an orchestra. The house was crowded to the ceiling, Mr. Benedict was called before the curtain at the end of the ant and second acts, and no less than
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