was produced in Paris in 1791, established
his reputation; and 'Les Deux Journees' (1800), known in England as 'The
Water-Carrier,' placed him, in the estimation of Beethoven, at the head
of all living composers of opera. Posterity has scarcely endorsed
Beethoven's dictum, but it is impossible to ignore the beauty of
Cherubini's work. The solidity of his concerted pieces and the
picturesqueness of his orchestration go far to explain the enthusiasm
which his works aroused in a society which as yet knew little, if
anything, of Mozart. Cherubini's finest works suffer from a frigidity
and formality strangely in contrast with the grace of Gretry or the
melody of Mehul, but the infinite resources of his musicianship make
amends for lack of inspiration, and 'Les Deux Journees' may still be
listened to with pleasure, if not with enthusiasm. The scene of the
opera is laid in Paris, under the rule of Cardinal Mazarin, who has been
defied by Armand, the hero of the story. The gates of Paris are strictly
guarded, and every precaution is taken to prevent Armand's escape; but
he is saved by Mikeli, a water-carrier, whose son he had once
befriended, and who now repays the favour by conveying him out of Paris
in his empty water-cart. Armand escapes to a village near Paris, but is
captured by the Cardinal's troops while protecting his wife Constance,
who has followed him, from the insults of two soldiers. In the end a
pardon arrives from the Queen, and all ends happily. In spite of the
serious and even tragic cast of the plot, the use of spoken dialogue
compels us to class 'Les Deux Journees' as an opera comique; and the
same rule applies to 'Medee,' Cherubini's finest work, an opera which
for dignity of thought and grandeur of expression deserves to rank high
among the productions of the period. Lesueur (1763-1837) may fitly be
mentioned by the side of Mehul and Cherubini. His opera 'Les Bardes,'
though now forgotten, has qualities of undeniable excellence. Its faults
as well as its beauties are those of the period which produced it. It is
declamatory rather than lyrical, and decorative rather than dramatic,
but in the midst of its conventions and formality there is much that is
true as well as picturesque.

During the closing years of the eighteenth and at the beginning of the
nineteenth century the activity of the French school of opera is in
remarkable contrast with the stagnation which prevailed in Italy and
Germany. Italy, a slav