Aufführungsbesprechung London, Coventgarden: “Oberon” von Carl Maria von Weber, April 1826

COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.

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After long note of preparation, Weber’s new opera, „Oberon,“ has been produced with all the success which the celebrity of the composer entitled the managers to anticipate. Its subject is not, indeed, so fortunately adapted to general popularity as that of „Der Freischutz,“ where the supernatural agencies employed, wild and extravagant as they are, find answering chords in the feeling of the people. In “Oberon” there is no touch of human interest; its marvels are all addressed to the fancy; and the spectator feels no curiosity, from the beginning to the end, except to see how the next scene will be painted, and to hear how the next song will be adapted to its spiritings. The story, which is nearly that of Wieland’s “Oberon,” has little coherency; but it gives occasion to much elegant description in the poem, and much splendid scenery in the drama. Of the music we profess ourselves incompetent to judge; it certainly did not strike us as generally pleasing or original; nor could we discern that spiritual character about it of which we have read so much eloquent discourse in the daily prints. We must leave its merits to more gifted critics; but this we may safely assert, that many of those who profess enthusiastically to admire it, understand it just as little as we do, and would yawn during nine-tenths of it, if it were played without a great name to recommend it to special attention. Of the piece as a spectacle, and indeed as a drama, as far as the nature of the subject would allow, we can speak highly. The scenery is most gorgeous – rather too gorgeous sometimes ¦ perhaps to be entirely pleasing: the moon-lights are a shade too blue, the rivers too icy, and the sun-lights too glowing; and altogether there is not the absolute truth which makes Mr. Stanfield’s scenes so delicious for the eye to dwell upon. The changes are even more striking than those in Faustus at Drury-Lane, especially one in which a mass of rock becomes suddenly peopled with demons, and another in which the alternations of storm, calm, sunset, and moonlight, are shown over a vast compass of sea. The language of the dialogue is very unambitious and easy; and the songs have more meaning and felicitous expression than any which have garnished an opera within our recollection. Braham, the hero of song, was all himself in Sir Huon, and Miss Paton appeared to sing with great delicacy and taste, and certainly acted with energy; and all the fairies “did their spiriting gently,” though we should prefer a less substantial Oberon. The excitement of the first night surpassed any we have witnessed for a long time in a theatre; and we heartily hope the promise it held out to the managers, who have acted with unsparing liberality, will be richly fulfilled.