been definitively withdrawn. We regret this very sincerely, because the
composer is a man of distinguished merit ; but, reviewing the impressions made upon us during the performance, we feel convinced that there could have been no other result, and that there is no occasion to account for it by ascribing it in any degree, as some of our contemporaries have done, to an alleged hostile conspiracy. We are perfectly satisfied from our own observation that the work was fairly and dispassionately judged by an immense audience, who could and would have put down at once any clique of malevolent hissers.
One cause of failure was unquestionably the badness of the libretto. This is too little considered by dramatic composers ; and yet the success of an opera is much influenced by it. The trashiness of the Zauberflote has always prevented the popularity, on the stage, of the most enchanting music in the world ; and on the other hand, some of Verdi's weak operas have been powerfully aided by their strength as tragic dramas. Strange as it may seem considering M. Berlioz's eminence as a litterateur and a critic, the libretto of his sole opera is the worst we have over met with ; in- deed, it " sounds the very base-string of humility." Its subject, taken from the autobiography of the famous Florentine sculptor, amounts merely to this. Benvenuto, disguised as a monk, carries off a girl in the crowd of the carnival; his rival endeavouring to prevent him, a senile ensues, in which he kills one of his rival's friends. He is arrested, and in danger of being hanged ; but the Governor of Rome promises him pardon on condition of his finishing in an hour the casting of a great statue on which he was at work for the Pope. Metal runs short, but the sculptor commands all the pre- cious works of art in his studio, in gold and silver, to be thrown into the furnace ; by which means the statue is cast in time, and Cellini gains his life and his mistress. This meagre story does not occupy more than two or three brief scenes in each act ; while the rest is mere remplissage, got up for the sake of spectacle. The language is bald even beyond the usual baldness of opera dialogue ; the characters are wholly without interest ; and the piece is destitute of everything which could rouse the genius of the musician.
Then the character of Berlioz's music is such as, we think, must make failure inevitable on the opera stage. The opera is a popular entertain- ment; and a new work of this class, to be successful, must have much of the popular element. It may, like the works of Mozart, be in some re- spects in advance of the popular taste ; but, also like the works of Mo- zart, it must be on the whole suited to the popular taste. It must con- tain so much that gives immediate delight, that the public will learn by degrees to appreciate beauties which at first they do not perceive. But if the whole or the greater part of it is in a style at variance with the gene- rally received notions of what constitutes musical beauty, connoisseurs may foretell its success at some future period of the art, but present suc- cess must necessarily be out of the question.
Now Berlioz, who is evidently a bold thinker, appears to have acted all his life under a determination to follow in the footsteps of no one, and to pursue an untrodden path. From the beginning he has resolved to be original. In this course he has been quite singular ; unlike Mozart, who himself said that he never made any effint to be original, and that he could not explain what it was that made his music Nozartisk —unlike Haydn— unlike even Beethoven. With those great men, the attainment of an inde- pendent style was not an effort of will—it was the gradual and sponta- neous result of the constant approach to maturity. The want of a deep and devoted study of the works of his great predecessors, we conceive, has been Berlioz's misfortune : it has prevented his acquiring that sim- plicity and clearness of design, regularity of construction, and symmetry of form, which are essential to beauty in every work of art.
It is less in his instrumental than in his vocal music that the defects of his style are apparent. No genius embraces every walk of art. As one painter may excel in colouring and another in drawing, so one musician may be preeminent in harmony and combination, and another in melody and elegance of form. Berlioz seems to have been gifted by nature with the faculty of wielding the masses of the orchestra—of blending the mu- sical colours on his pallet in inexhaustible kaleidoscopic varieties of hue. It is in the exercise of this faculty, accordingly, that he has achieved his greatness. His orchestral pieces, all on a colossal scale and demanding instruments unusual even in large orchestras, are so rich and glowing in their colours, so gorgeous and picturesque, that they are listened to with increasing pleasure, notwithstanding the absence of those forms of beauty—conventional but not arbitrary, for they are the dic- tates of taste—which no other composer has as yet ventured to throw away. In respect to melody, however, we cannot help think- ing that there must be some radical defect in Berlioz's organization —not want of ear, as it is called, but of a sufficient perception of beauty in purely melodious sounds. We cannot otherwise account for the total absence of grace, smoothness, and flow, in his vocal pieces. They are destitute of rhythm ; and their harsh, unvocal intervals, while they task the skill of the most accomplished singer, give the hearer nothing but pain. Such is the character of the songs in Benvenuto Cellini : the few melodious phrases they contained were like green spots in the desert, and were sometimes applauded accordingly.
There is an immense amount of talent in the orchestral and concerted portions of the music ; and it is in the second act, the whole of which is a representation of a Roman carnival, that Berlioz's peculiar faculty is most strikingly displayed. The instrumental introduction to the act (which was performed at a recent Philharmonic concert) is a superb piece of descriptive music ; and the bustle and confusion of the carnival, blended
with choruses and dances, is treated with the skill of Mcyerbcer. But these were only accessories, and did not compensate for the want of the one thing needful, beautiful and expressive vocal melody.
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