The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1824-10-18 00:00:00

THE BRITISH PRESS.

COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.

performance of
On Saturday night we again witnessed the
" the Romantic opera," as it is called, of I)cr freisrbutz ;
or the Black Huntsman of Bohemia,
which attracted a very
crowded house. For the sake of the manager we were glad
to see this: as far, too, as public curiosity is concerntst, we
were pleased with it ; but if we arc to receive this attrac-
tion us evidence of the public taste, in this view of it we
begin to murmur, and to exercise that privilege of discon-
tent, which, as Englishmen, we hold to be one of the chief
rights of man. To confess the crud, we have no honest
liking for the GI. away Drama, whether in the shape of
tragedy or opera ; and whether the incidents are of this
world or the world of romance. It may be, perhaps, that
we are of a temperament that has no sort of sympathy with
spectres of the night and Mock llantsmrn of the Forest ;
or that our reason is too stubborn to submit to all the mon-
strous demands that arc made upon it ; or that there is no
correspondent chord in our bosom that vibrates with all
these superhuman attacks upon our sensibility. Be the cause
what it Ina!, such is the fact : we have an utter distaste to
the modern theatricals of the German school, and we know
of no one of its pro suctions ever exhibited on the stage at
either house, that we could refer to, as abating our aversion
one jot. Not that we mean to deny that such writers is
GOETHE, LENSING, and have, each in their
respective provinces, very high claims to praise ; we are
aware, too, of die great merits of LEISLWITZ and Galt-
sr a sear:, and of several other crack names, that, if they
were not difficult and dangerous to pronounce, we might
add to the list. Rut with all their beauties,—and they
have many,—their dramatic pieces are not calculated for
dramatic exhibition. In the Tragedy, for example, of
GOETZ VON BERILECHINGEN, our of the best productions
of Goarite, knights ou horseback appear on the stage
among the dramatis presume, and views of towns and
castles in flames constitute a part of the necessary scenery.
A German dramatist is never at rest but when he is har-
rowing up our feelings: our imagination is perpetually
" frightened from it. propriety ;" his sublimity always
reach, above " the seventh heaven ;" and his horrors
have no fathom ; there is always
" In the lowest deep, a lower still."

Ile is not content that we should be struck, we must be
thunderstruck : we must feel with his heroines through all
their extremes ; we have no choice between " heartfelt
rapture" and " shuddering agony." Now, we have really
no fondness for Al this wildness and extravagance : there
may possibly be some who fuel quite at hotrie amidst all
these desperate doings, but we could never brace ourselves
up to the relish of so 111116 emotion ; we can delight at all
times to follow nature, but we do not care to be carried so
far out of bounds.

To return to the opera of Dix FREI/CHUM The
overture on Saturday evening was, as mina:, encored. We
assuredly mean no disrespect to the composer, Cant. MARI.
Vox W Lusa, when we affirm, that we have known many
overtures touch better entitled to this distinguished honour,
that have never obtained it. But in all time things there is a
fashion. To our ear, there is nothing in it of that mini sise
and impressive melody which ought to he found in whatever
can deservedly call forth any extraordinary testimony of ap-
probation. Its most prominent passages are not new, and the
abrupt transithms from the soft adagio to the sweeping
ercult from the whole orchestra, is far frotn pleasing in its
effect. The true force and feeling of music are not pro-
ducts! by pouncing upon us in this way—and as to erre:-
Jim', it is utterly destroyed by all these attempts to startle
and surprise; nothing can be more distant from the per-
fection of the science than the too frequent recurrence of
these sudden contrasts. No one should know this truth
better than M. MrtiEll, if we may judge from such of
his compositions as are left to assert their own beauty, and
in which there is no straining after ell;•et.
In the Po tat CA, by Miss Love, beginning,
_" When • lover kneels before her"

the style of the music is not at all suited to the words.
The sanitation of the one to the Anr is essential in every
song, for without this there can be no real excellence.

The Asi• of " From her open casement bending," was
well given by (Mr. Pearman); but here again
the loud and disconlant clash of the instruments, imme-
diately before the line
" Este has of every Wise bereft me,"
comes not only most unexpectedly, but most offensively on
the ear. If it is meant to represent, as we suppose at is,
the repetition of Caspar's threats and ineneuiluns we con-
sider all such attempts to square the sound to the sense as
abaunl, and beneath any composer of eminence. iVe re-
member " The cries of the wounded," in the Battle
Prague, by KorzEsur, and that the same notes would
equally well describe a knot of boys playing at see-saw,
or at shuttlecock. At the same time, we do not forget
" The TA is the fe," of lIANnEt ; but the instance
there is memorable ; it is one of those happy efforts of
human genius which is never twice attempted with suc-
cess. In the