60 
MUSIC ABROAD. 
[Nature and Art, February 1, 1867. 
of industry even in an ant-hill. At its numerous “ Court ” 
and “ Municipal ” theatres, or theatres supported by the 
reigning- sovereigns or the Corporation, respectively, 
Germany has, perhaps, produced, during the last twenty 
years, five times as many new operas as France, and at 
least as many as Italy in the same period. These said 
German operas, on their first representation at Munich, or 
Leipsic, or Darmstadt, or wherever they first beheld the 
light of the lamps, are greeted, as a matter of course, with 
shouts of applause by local musical patriots, and recom- 
mended by the local critics to the world at larg-e as great 
and effective novelties, which cannot fail tb become 
exceedingly and universally popular. Nearly all, however, 
meet with a decidedly cold reception in the very first town 
where the manager is bold enoug-h to try them. Even in 
the fortunate locality where they were produced, they 
survive their first triumph for but a strangely short time. 
Despite the acquirements and skill, despite the labour 
and enthusiasm that characterize these scores, the utmost 
they achieve is a succes d’estime. The reason of this is, 
almost invariably, to be found in the want of talent — 
either creative musical power generally, or dramatic power 
more especially — on the part of their composers. It is un- 
doubtedly Yerdi’s talent, his energetic and well-defined 
talent, which gives him the superiority over so many more 
hig'hly accomplished German composers, who, as mere 
musicians, must certainly be ranked above him. Let 
Verdi’s operas be for ever banished from the German stage, 
provided modern Germany can fill rrp with something as 
good, the void which would be thus created. Until it can do 
so, however, German art-bigots should cease reviling- those 
persons who take a pleasure in the Italian maestro’s pro- 
ductions, in default of anything- better. Even in his most 
careless works, Verdi always has some happy thoughts 
peculiar to himself; and his broad, but sure touches, fre- 
queiddy invest the dramatic situation with a degree of 
warmth and power, to which the most learned and most 
deeply calculated turns of modern German composers never 
attain. 
With regard to Verdi’s Maslcenball, it may not be 
generally known that Scribe’s libretto, Gustave, ou le Bal 
masque (on which Sig. Verdi’s book is founded), was 
originally intended for Rossini, who was charmed with it. 
Eventually, however, satiated with fame and tired of work, 
he left Paris without having written a note of the music. 
Scribe then offered the book to Auber, who at first thought 
the plot “ almost too dramatic.” As we all know, he 
afterwards composed on it one of his most graceful and 
popular scores. M. Veron, under whose management 
Gustave was produced, says that it was nearly a .failure on 
the first night, owing to one trifling fact, on which no one 
had bestowed a thought. The characters, it appears, were 
properly dressed in the Roccoco costume of the time of 
Louis XV., a costume better adapted for light pieces than 
for serious ones. The celebrated Mdlle. Mars had long before 
refused to play tragic parts in this dress, because she knew, 
by sad experience, that any exhibition of emotion wasfollowed 
by an avalanche of hair-powder, which infallibly provoked 
the mirth of the audience. The singers in Gustave soon 
perceived that they dared not allow their feelings full scope. 
They were stiff and formal, instead of being warm and 
impassioned, and moved about under the constant dread 
of being interrupted precisely in their best scenes by peals 
of laughter. This naturally lent an icy coldness to the 
performance, and nearly ruined the opera. On the next night, 
hair-powder was banished from the Swedish court — at least 
on the French stage. 
Many persons have expressed surprise that Verdi should 
have chosen a subject already used as an operatic libretto. 
He has only followed a plan at one time exceedingly common 
in Italy. Indeed, less than a century ago, it was a regular 
thing- for several composers to set the same book. There is 
not, for instance, a sing-le book written by Metastasio 
which has not inspired half a dozen musicians. Many com- 
posers, like Hesse, for example, even set the same libretto 
over and over again. The practice in question, which, 
however, has become less common in Italy for a long 
period, though it has never been entirely discontinued, 
sprang from the little importance attached to the words, 
and the absolute superiority attributed to the music. 
What a different view is taken of the matter by the French. 
While in Italy, a libretto, after being once set to music, 
becomes common property, it belongs, in France, to one 
composer and one theatre. Germany follows in the foot- 
steps of France. The system of recomposing a libretto 
which has already inspired a musician of any note, pos- 
sesses, perhaps, as a set-off against great disadvantages, 
only one advantage : it urges each new composer to ex- 
traordinary exertions. If he would achieve any success 
with his second-hand subject, he must not simply equal, he 
must surpass, the first composer, and drive him entirely from 
the stage. Voltaire’s celebrated maxim, “ II farrt tuer 
quandon vole,” is particularly applicable in this case. Two 
settings of the same text cannot well subsist side by side 
upon the lyric stage. Rossini’s Barbiere di Seviglia drove 
away Paisiello’s once popular work; Donizetti’s Elisir 
threw Auber’s Philtre in the shade ; while Donizetti’s 
Burgomaster of Saardam had to yield to Lortzing’s Czaar 
und Zimmermann. In the above cases there is nothing to 
be said ; the victors have so completely excelled their pre- 
decessors, that no one, qirobably, would desire to restore the 
latter to their original supremacy. But this is not always the 
case ; it sometimes happens that, because more modern, or 
stronger in certain effects, one opera has crushed an older one, 
the loss of which cannot be contemplated without regret. 
There have been two such instances lately ; Gounod’s Faust 
has shelved that by Spohr, and Verdi’s Ballo in Ifascliera, 
eclipsed Auber’s Gustave. At the Karnthnerthor Theater, 
the former work was exceedingly well played and sung by 
every one concerned. Mdme. Dustmann was exceedingly 
good in the part of Amalia ; Friiulein von Murska made a 
decided hit as the Page Oscar, especially in the third act ; 
Herr Walter, as Count Richard, was no bad substitute for 
Graziani, who played the part during the Italian season ; and 
Herr Beck gave more than usual importance to the prominent 
part of Rene. An interesting- revival at the same theatre 
has been that of Boieldieu’s famous opera Le Petit Chaperon 
rouge, or, in German, Rothlcappchen. This opera is already 
half a century old. Very few modern opera-goers know 
much concerning it, and therefore a word or two about it 
may not be unacceptable. Despite the title, the equivalent 
of our own Little Red Riding-hood, the plot has nothing in 
common with the old fairy tale, save a distantly figurative 
relationship. Rothkiippchen is in the opera an innocent 
peasant-girl, possessing in her red hood a sure talisman 
against any attacks that unprincipled men may make against 
her. There is no actual wolf lying in wait for her, but a 
bright specimen of the allegorical species, in the shape of a 
certain Baron Rudolph, a practised and consistent 'roue. 
For him, it is as easy a thing to conquer girls’ hearts as it is 
for Red Riding-hood to be virtuous, seeing that he also pos- 
sesses a talisman, a ring so brilliant that it completely 
dazzles, bewilders, and overpowers every girl who beholds 
it. The Baron waits for Red Riding-hood in the forest, as 
she is going- to visit an old hermit. But the power of the 
ring is utterly annihilated by the red hood. Wild with fury, 
the Baron hastens to reach the hermitage, where, disguised as 
the Hermit, he again awaits the maiden. Her position is now 
growing rather perilous, when the real Hermit enters ; 
recognizes in Red Riding-hood a long-lost niece of the 
Baron’s, and unites her to Count Roger, who, clad as a 
shepherd, has already won her heart. The great simplicity 
of the plot, and the utterly needless infusion into it of the 
superhuman element, are rather at variance with modern 
taste ; that mongrel being- the Hermit is an especial nuisance ; 
the audience tolerate him, nay, perhaps, they rather admire 
him, when he passes at the back of the stage — like Zamiel 
from Der Freischutz turned virtuous— on every occasion that 
vice threatens virtue ; but when, in the last act, he becomes 
personal and sentimental ; when he bewails his lot and ex- 
presses a fervent wish that he may speedily die, there is not, 
probably, a single person present who, if he could, would 
not see the worthy and venerable bore’s desire instantly 
gratified. Boieldieu expended several years of ceaseless 
labour upon Rothkappchen. But he cannot have regretted 
it, for the success of his work was as lasting as it was 
