appear to have been attracted, like Mozart, by the force of uncontrollable instinct, but rather to have arrived at perfection, as Gluck did, by the assistance of earnest thought and unremitting study. He wrote an Opera, simply because the Manager of the Theater-an-der-Wien found it worth while to offer him an engagement for that purpose: but, having undertaken the work, he threw his whole soul into it; laboured at it, as his sketch-books prove, incessantly; and identified himself so completely with its progress that he seems as much at home in it as he had ever previously been in a Sonata or a Symphony. The subject selected was Bouilly's 'Leonore, ou l'amour conjugale,' which had already been set to music as a French 'Opéra comique,' by Gaveaux, and very successfully, to Italian words, by Paër. A German translation was now made by Sonnleithner; and that Beethoven was satisfied with it, and was conscious of no inconsistency in the dialogue being spoken, must be inferred from the careful solicitude with which he strove, not only to give due effect to the various situations of the Drama, but to bring out the sense of the text, even to its lightest word. The work was produced in 1805, under the name of 'Fidelio, oder die eheliche Liebe'; and again performed, in the following year, with extensive alterations and a new Overture: but its success was more than doubtful. In 1814 it was revived at the Karnthnerthor Theater, still under the name of 'Fidelio,' with farther alterations consequent upon a thorough revision of the text by Friedrich Treitschke, and a new Overture in E—the fourth which had been written for it—and, on this occasion, its beauties were more clearly appreciated, though not to the extent they deserved. Never during the Composer's lifetime was 'Fidelio' understood as we understand it now. Perhaps no work of the kind ever caused its author more serious annoyance. Even in 1814, the Prima donna, Madame Milder-Hauptmann, presumed, on her own confession, to dispute Beethoven's will with regard to the magnificent Scena, 'Komm, Hoffnung, lass den letzten Stern.' Yet the unwearying care he bestowed upon the minutest details of the piece, no less than upon its general effect, resulted in a work which really leaves no room for hostile criticism. The most censorious analyst, if he be honest, will find himself constrained to admit that, however deeply he may seek into the inner meaning of the Scenes it presents to us, Beethoven has been beforehand with him, and sought into it more deeply still. Not Gluck himself ever produced an Opera bearing traces of such intense devotion to pure dramatic truth. The principles upon which it is modelled are, indeed, almost identical with Gluck's, so far as theory is concerned; but Gluck, in his latest works, undoubtedly sacrificed musical form to dramatic expression; while Beethoven has shown that the perfection of the one is not inconsistent with the fullest possible enunciation of the other.
With these great qualities to recommend it, Fidelio stands alone, and has necessarily become immortal; while the works of Paër, Süssmayer, and other Composers who enjoyed a high degree of popularity in the earlier years of the 19th century, have been long since almost forgotten. The only other productions of the Period that can for a moment be placed in competition with it are the later Operas of Cherubini, who, after writing for many years in the light Neapolitan style, struck out, in 'Lodoiska' (1791), a manner of his own, strikingly original, and far above the possibility of imitation, but based, like Beethoven's, upon the principles laid down by Gluck, and presenting the curious anomaly of a German method, cultivated by an Italian, for the amusement of a Parisian audience. Beethoven is known to have spoken of Cherubini as 'the greatest of all living writers for the Stage,' and to have admired 'Les deux Journées' and 'Faniska' exceedingly: and it is worthy of remark, that a strong analogy is observable between the Libretti of 'Fidelio,' 'Faniska,' 'Les deux Journées,' and 'Lodoiska,' in each of which the leading incident is the rescue of an unjustly-detained prisoner, through the devotion of a faithful friend whose life is risked, though not lost, in the labour of love necessary to effect the desired object. We can scarcely believe it possible that the two great Composers would have selected subjects so exactly similar in character, and bringing into play exactly the same delicate shades of emotion, passion, and feeling, had there not been a strong community of thought between them: yet their mode of expressing that thought was, in each case, so completely a part of themselves, that not the slightest trace of similarity is discernible in their treatment even of those Scenes which most closely resemble each other as well in their outward construction as in their inner meaning. In all such cases, the most careful criticism can only lead to the conclusion that each Master did that which was best for his own work in his own peculiar way; and the more closely we analyse these works, the deeper will be our reverence for the genius of those who attained such splendid results by such very different means.
Our Fifteenth Period introduces us to new and very remarkable development of the German Opera, known among musical historians as the Romantic School—a form of Art which, since the beginning of the present century, has exercised a more decided influence upon the progress of Dramatic Music than any other recognised agent. The invention of the Romantic Opera has been almost unanimously ascribed to Weber; we must not, however, pass over in silence a claim which has been brought forward, within the last few years, in favour of Spohr, though we believe it to be indefensible. It is quite true that 'Faust,' Spohr's greatest triumph in this peculiar style, was completed and ready for performance in 1813; while Weber's masterpiece, 'Der Freischütz,' was not produced till 1821. But the decision of the controversy does not rest, as has been pretended, upon the com-
