WeGA, Rezeptionsdokumente, Digitale Edition
author: Anonymus
source date: 15. April 1826
language: en
availability: Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)

Covent Garden.

Weber's Music: Oberon.

The German school since the days of Mozart has been celebrated for fulness and variety. The problem towards the solution of which all its efforts seem to have been directed, is this: How to combine successfully the greatest variety of characteristic melody with all the richness of the modern inventions in harmony. Mozart first taught them to suit the music to the action, to copy the feeling closely, to speculate upon musical effects; and it must be confessed that his disciples have been wonderfully successful. Let any one who understands both compare the Don Giovanni with the Freischütz*[^1]. They are works, if we may use the phrase composed in pari materiá. They both mingle with the spiritual world; the sublime amd the terrific are predominant in both. But the subject of the Freischütz deals more largely with supernatural agencies; hence the music, rising to the acmè of sublimity and horror, brings into play all the resources of the chromatic art: the minor key predominates (the Italians use it more rarely), sudden discords, precipitate resolutions, alternating calms and storms of musica effect – all unite to express the variety and sudden changes of the passion, the intensity of the interests at stake (the salvation or destruetion of soul and body), and the myterious and malignant character of the being through whose immediate influence the catastrophe is to be produced. The subject of the Don Giovanni was lighter; the hero was rather a jayous and unprincipled than a malignant being, and the spiritual agency was more simple and less terrific. Hence the Don Giovanni is the more pleasing, the Freischütz the more affecting of the two. There is a greater uniformity in the character of the latter, so much so as to induce a doubt whether Weber has that command of melody which spreads so unspeakable a charm over the works of Mozart; but even were it so, we do not venture too much in saying that he is the more learned musician. But here the comparison between these masters Weber and Rossini stops. Originality is the great quality of Weber's music: he is full of new musical resources, and contrives, with great skill, to unite opposite and apparently contradictory effects in the same movement. Let any one study attentively the superb duet between the heroine and her cousin in the commencement of the second act; the former depressed by anxiety and apprehension; the other full of hope and joyous anticipation. Who would believe in the combination of sounds capable of conveying a sence and feeling of both states of mind at the same time? Yet you can scarcely imagine success more perfect. You may fearlessly lay your finger upon this duet as the most perfect effort of its kind since the days of Mozart. But if Weber is original, he is laboriously original; and this, in our humble opinion, is the fault of his school. We question whether the practiced ears of Germany can as yet fully comprehend the intricacy of his harmonies, or fully relish the rapidity and abruptness of his transitions. How, then, are we to account for the applause he has met with in this country? The truth is, the general effect is distinct enough; musical expression may be indistinct in detail, provided it hit the feeling. Matter-of-fact men may laugh, but music is a descriptive art – descriptive far beyond the limit which these unlearned gentry prescribe to it; for an English audience can feel it; they can listen and not understand – they can admire and relish without comprehending. There is not a situation in the Freischütz or Oberon to which the music is not auxiliary: it follows the interest of the story in each, and expresses, with surprising accuracy, every change in feeling and incident: in short, it is descriptive in the highest degree.

[^1: * It is not generally known, that the public is indebted for the introduction of Weber's music into this country to Mr. Brockedon [William Brockedon (1787–1854), britischer Maler, Schriftsteller und Erfinder], the artist, who, being struck with the beauty of some of it which he heard while travelling on the Continent, brought it over, and made Mr. Arnold aquainted with its merits. The score of Der Freischütz was subsequently obtained and the opera was brought out at the English Opera House in that superior style which at once stamped it with popularity.]

It has been well remarked, that Weber's music approaches to the character of church-music: and so it ought: superstition resembles religion in being one of the most powerful exciters of musical sentiment. All great musicians have been religious men, and they have shone most wherever these feelings have been called into action. The modern Italian school, almost without exception, evinces none of this: Rossini is a worldling (as our pious friends would call him) all over; hence the total absence of the serious and sublime in his works; he writes good comedies: the tragedy of music must be abandoned to the Germans – But to revert to Weber.

Something like monotony is occasionally produced by the extended use of the minor key. It produces a mournfulness of spirit in the hearer, which, beyond a certain limit, degenerates into lassitude, and terminates in inattention or even weariness. The minor in music has always appeared to us (excuse the homeliness of the illustration) very much like spices or seasonings in cookery – to be used with moderation. The general current of human sensations must, by the common consent of all musicians in all ages, be expressed in the major. As a medium of transition, as a relief, as a mode of expressing certain peculiar affections of the mind – for instance, grief, sadness, and terror – the minor is invaluable. But if we look through the productions of Weber, we might almost say that the groundwork is in the minor. This is an inversion of the natural order, and can only be tolerated in works of peculiar character, where the feelings and situations and passions are all extraordinary, all out of the ordinary channel in which human concerns and interests generally flow.

Another characteristic in Weber's compositions occurs to us. This is the sparingness of repetition throughout his operas. He is like an author who will not condescend to explanation, trusting to the distinctness with which his conceptions proceed from his own brain. Mozart was a great explainer; his repetitions are frequent; he delights to place them in new lights, to look at them under different forms, to play at hide and seek with them: thus his hearers became rapidly familiar with them, and yet, on every fresh occasion, find someting new to admire. Weber has adopted another course. He does not desire to be known too suddenly. He is a person whose friendship must be assiduously cultivated. But really the best musicians have been hitherto such easy, good sort of people, that we cannot at once submite to so haughty a demand as this. Others admit us into their confidence at once; he has no objection to a first-sight aquaintance, and holds forth a good thing or two by way of incitement; but no familiarity till the third or fourth visit. Thus his Oberon will confirm the intimacy and liking which grew up in the breast of John Bull in respect to the Freischütz; in the latter of which, a sprightly and elegant air or two indicated the possession of powers different from those on which we have been animadverting, such as the Zäger chorus, the drinking song, and one or two other beautiful speciments of the lively style. [So much for general remarks.]

The former long looked-for opera – for which Weber was employed to compose the whole of the music – was performed for the first time on Wednesday evening. The expectations of the musical world – of that portion of society, indeed, which may now be considered as best entitled to the names of fashionable and enlightened – had been raised to an extraordinary pitch; and it gives us pleasure to announce, that the composer has truly kept the word of promise to the ear, and that, as far as we could observe, the hopes of the public, sanguine as they were, have not been disappointed. In Oberon we find a strinking similarity to the Freischütz, and other operas from the same hand; but, at the same time, Weber cannot be called a copier of himself, as these points of resemblance are blended with infinite changes, and placed in a number of new and striking situations. To a mind constituted like his – a mind that appears to delight in the wild and preternatural – the subject of the drama has of course been of great advantage. Had he searched through the whole poetic region he could not have selected one better adapted to the display of his peculiar genius. It contains descriptions of air, of earth, and heaven – the enchantments of Fairy Land – the ardour of chivalry – the tenderness of passion – the dangers of the sea – and, above all, the magic powers of the ivory horn; and this variety, which would have paralysed an ordinary man, has only roused him to commensurate exertion, and afforded him a field for the more ample display of the glory of his art. The overture is grand and powerful, and, what all overtures ought to be, a prologue descriptive of the swelling scenes that are to follow. The music illustrating the actions of the fairy court is particularly light and pleasing; that which is intrusted to the heroine delightfully impassioned; the hero's part chivalrous and noble; and that appropriated to the spirits of the storm wild and oracular. The pieces which appeared to give the greatest satisfaction, were a song in the first act by Miss Paton, and a grand scena in the second; a recitative and martial air by Mr. Braham, also in the first act, and a short invocation in the second; a quartetto, by Braham, Isaacs, Miss Paton, and Madame Vestris; a chorus by the spirits of the storm, preparatory to the shipwreck; the concerted piece at the conclusion of the first act; and the grand finale, – all of which were enthusiastically reccived, and rewarded with immense applause.

That which may be called more particularly the dramatic part of the entertainment is from the pen of Mr. Planché. He has followed very faithfully the chief incidents of Mr. Sotheby’s poem, and we merely do him justice when we affirm that it is highly creditable to his talents. The dialogue, if not very powerfully written, is at all events free from affectation; whilst the lyrical compositions are deserving of the title, and are really of a very superi - or order. Now and then, indeed, a strong likeness may be traced to some of the lines of Rare Ben Jonson, and other worthies of a distant age; but this in a young author, is not only excusable, but praiseworthy. Songs written for the stage have been too long notorious for their want of sense and metre, and we consequently hail an attempt to engraft poetry and meaning upon music, as an approach to a consummation most devoutly to be wished. The performers may likewise claim their share of credit for the general success. Miss Paton, who was fortunately quite recovered from the awkward accident she had met with on the preceding night, was in fine voice, and displayed her accustomed brilliancy and spirit in the execution of the most difficult passages: her first air is remarkably pleasing, and her grand scena – descibing the ocean after a storm, and the shipwreck, the setting sun, and the approach of a strange vessel – was given in her very best style. Madame Vestris has a lively little character, with two good songs, and, as usual, is arch and pleasant both in her acting and her singing; whilst the eachinnation produced by the enchanted horn, in the last scene but one, is of so hearty a description as to cause the whole of the audience to follow her example. Braham, as Sir Huon, has not so much to do as might have been expected; but his decided superiority as a musician and stage-singer was never more strinkingly apparent; his whole performance was as near perfection as possible. Miss Cawse, we are sorry to see, does not gain ground, one of the effects probably of her being brought out at too tender an age. Mr. Bland's style of singing is by no means adapted to the Fairy King. We recollect with pleasure having seen Mr. Duruset in Shakespeare's Oberon, and we are quite sure that he would have been much more at home in this part, and given more general satisfaction than its present representative. The scenery and dresses are splendid in the extreme, and the machinery is excellent. The mechanical part of the sea view, in the second act, representing the reflexion of the setting sun upon the water, surpasses any thing of the sort before exhibited. The getting up of the opera alone must have cost a large sum: but, notwithstanding the expense incurred, we are much mistaken, if it does not only repay the cost and labour bestowed upon it, but make ample amends for the failure of the pantomime and other misfortunes. The overture, and many other parts of the music, were rapturously encored; and at the end, Mr. Weber appeared to receive and acknowledge the congratulations of his friends. – We subjoin the following, as a fair and impartially chosen specimen of the songs.

First Sea Nymph.
O ’tis pleasant to float on the sea,
When the wearied waves in a deep sleep be!
And the last faint light of the sun hath fled,
And the stars are mustering over head,
And the night-breeze comes with its breath so bland,
Laden with sweets from the distant land!
O ’tis pleasant to float and sing,
While ever our dripping locks we wring!

Second Sea Nymph.
O ’tis pleasant to float on the sea,
When nothing stirs on its breast but we!
The warder leans at the twilight hour,
Over the wall of his time-worn tow’r.
And signs himself, and mutters a pray’r,
Then listens again to the witching air!
O ’tis pleasant to float and sing,
While ever our dripping locks we wring!