in Sylph,' which was produced in 1834, fulfils all the
requirements of the operatic form. It is besides a work of genuine charm
and power, and retained its popularity for many years.

It is unfortunate for the memory of Balfe (1808-1870) that the one opera
by which he is now remembered, the perennial 'Bohemian Girl,' should be
perhaps the least meritorious of his many works. It lives solely by
reason of the insipid tunefulness of one or two airs, regardless of the
fact that the plot is transcendentally foolish, and that the words are a
shining example of the immortal balderdash of the poet Bunn. In the
first act Thaddeus, an exiled Polish rebel, finds refuge among a tribe
of gipsies, who disguise him in order to enable him to escape his
pursuers. While among them he saves the life of Arline, the six-year-old
daughter of Count Arnheim, an Austrian nobleman. Arnheim, in delight at
recovering his child, invites Thaddeus and his companion Devilshoof, the
leader of the gipsies, to a banquet, at which the Emperor's health is
proposed. The two supposed gipsies refuse to drink it, whereupon
Devilshoof is seized and imprisoned, while Thaddeus, at the Count's
earnest entreaty, is allowed to go in freedom. Devilshoof contrives to
make his escape, and in revenge for the treatment he has received steals
the little Arline, whom he carries off to the gipsy camp. Twelve years
have passed when the second act begins. Arline has grown up to
womanhood, but all the other characters remain at precisely the same age
as in the first act. Thaddeus loves Arline, and is himself beloved by
the gipsy queen, who vows the innocent girl's ruin. By her machinations
Arline is accused of theft, and is taken to be tried by her own father.
The inevitable recognition ensues, and upon Thaddeus disclosing his true
position he is rewarded with Airline's hand. During the betrothal feast
the gipsy queen attempts Arline's life, but the shot, in a manner which
even Bunn himself might have found difficult to explain, recoils and
strikes her who aimed it.

Balfe had to the full his share of that vein of maudlin sentiment which
is typical of one side of the Irish character. He appears to have had
little ambition, and was content throughout his career to fit his
saccharine melodies to whatever words the librettists of the day chose
to supply. No one can deny him the possession of fluent and commonplace
melody, but there his claim to musicianship ends.

Wallace (1814