won. The difficulty of winning such laurels, on a Stage which has witnessed so many shipwrecks, is no slight one. Ambroise Thomas had succeeded, over and over again, in lighter pieces, before he established his reputation by the production of 'Hamlet'; and the 'chute éclatante' of Berlioz's 'Benvenuto Cellini,' meant nothing less than ruin. But we have not yet seen the last of the traditional 'Grand Opéra.'
The 'Opéra Comique,' still more prosperous, in some respects, than its graver sister at the 'Académie,' was raised to a high æsthetic level by Boieldieu, Grétry, and Méhul, at a very early period; and, even before the 19th century began, had given fair promise of a brilliant future, destined to be speedily realised by the genius of Cherubini, whose 'Lodoiska,' 'Elise,' 'Medée,' 'Faniska,' and, above all, 'Les deux Journeys,' rise far above his best contributions to the répertoire of the 'Grand Opéra.' In these great works, the triumphs of this form of the Lyric Drama culminate. No one has attempted to compete with their author, in his own style; and no new style has been conceived worthy to be discussed in connection with it.[1] The train of thought pursued by Hérold, Auber, and their countless followers, led them in so different a direction, that one is tempted to wish some more appropriate name had been invented, to distinguish their respective styles, and thus prevent the appearance of an unfair comparison of works which bear no nearer relation to each other than the Tragedy bears to the Ballad. Nevertheless, the number of successes achieved, of late years, in the lighter style, is very great. Six years ago, the hopes of French Musicians were excited by the production of Bizet's 'Carmen'; than which no work of similar character could possibly have been more exactly adapted to the one great need of the present crisis—the support, and continuation, of a long-established School. Pleasing enough to attract, yet not sufficiently so to stifle the memory of standard successes; original enough to command attention, yet not so new as to suggest the birth of a newer School; it takes its place among the best productions of its class, and honourably maintains it, without disturbing the relations of existing styles. A School in Music bears a very close analogy to a Species in Zoology. Its line of demarcation is a very elastic one. Countless modifications of form may be introduced without transgressing its limits. But, there is a point which cannot be overstepped. We have seen that Wagner has placed himself beyond the pale of the Romantic School; and Boïto, beyond that of the Italian School of Melody. Bizet has thought for himself; but has not overstepped the boundaries of the 'Opéra Comique.' With sufficient character to stamp them as his own, his ideas evince sufficient originality to entitle them to consideration, as belonging to a School already formed. His power of expressing passion is very remarkable: not Italian passion; but the agitation which goads a soul to madness. And the quaint piquancy of some of his lighter conceptions is delightfully refreshing; as in the Chorus of Gamins, in the First Act—a jeu d'esprit which makes us long to know how he would have treated such a character as Petit Gavroche, had it fallen in his way. But, alas! like Goetz, he lived only just long enough to see his talent appreciated.
Notwithstanding the associations connected with its title, it is by no means de rigueur that the subject of the 'Opéra comique' should be a ludicrous, or even a cheerful one: but, this indulgence is not extended to the lighter form of entertainment called the 'Opéra bouffe,' now so extravagantly popular in Paris, and so frequently presented, elsewhere, in the guise of an English or German translation. In general design, the 'Opéra bouffe' bears much the same relation to the Farce, that the 'Opéra comique' bears to legitimate Comedy; but it also borrows largely from the Ballet and the Melodrama, and not a little from the Extravaganza and Burlesque. Its Music is, as a general rule, too trivial for serious criticism; though, within the last few years, much of it has attained almost unexampled popularity in the hands of Offenbach, Hervé, Lecocq, and other aspirants for public favour.
Though the French School has produced innumerable Instrumentalists, of European reputation, it has given birth to comparatively few Instrumental Composers. It is true, that the Orchestral Preludes to Cherubini's Operas rank among the finest inspirations of his genius; but, they stand almost alone. Neither the Quartet nor the Sonata have ever found a congenial home in France; nor can the Symphony be said to have firmly taken root in that country, though the meteor-like genius of Berlioz invested it, for a moment, with a passing interest of altogether exceptional character. The style of this irrepressible free-lance differs, root and branch, from that of every other known Composer, German, French, English, or Italian; yet its most salient features may be summed up in a very few words. It is a French paraphrase of the most pronounced development of the German Romantic School: German, in its deep cogitation, its philosophical moods, its wild imagery, its power of Tone-painting, and its new and finished system of Instrumentation—French, in its violent outbursts, its fervid excitement, its uncontrollable agitation, its polished refinement, and, above all, its ineffable bizarreries. Its analogue, in Literature, would be a paraphrase of 'Faust,' by Victor Hugo. It exceeds all previous revolutionary manifestations, in its mad contempt for all authority, save that dictated by its own caprice. In the fearlessness of its conceptions, it stands unrivalled. And, in painting its vivid pictures, it avails itself at one moment of the deepest Poetry, and at another of the grossest Realism, with a calm assurance which sets all sober criticism at defiance, but seldom fails to hit its mark. Are we not made to feel, instinctively, in 'Le Carnaval Romain,' that the shower
- ↑ See vol. ii. pp. 522, 523.
