nch army, and has been absent from Corsica for many
years. When he returns she finds that his love for Lydia, the daughter
of the Count de Nevers, has driven thoughts of revenge from his mind.
She succeeds, however, in rousing him to action, and one day he kills
both the murderers, though wounded himself by a cowardly ambush. He has
to take to the mountains for refuge, and there he remains, tended by
Lydia and Colomba, until news of his pardon comes. It is too late,
however, to save the life of Colomba, who has been mortally wounded in
endeavouring to divert the soldiers from Orso's hiding-place.
Mackenzie's music is exceedingly clever and effective. He uses guiding
themes with judgment and skill, and his employment of some old Corsican
melodies is also very happy. 'Colomba' is a work which eminently merits
revival, and it will be probably heard of again. 'The Troubadour,' which
was produced a few years later, failed completely. The story is
thoroughly dull, and completely failed to inspire the musician. Sir
Alexander Mackenzie has recently completed the score of an opera on the
subject of Dickens's 'Cricket on the Hearth,' the production of which is
awaited with much interest.

During the closing years of the nineteenth century the fortunes of
English opera, never very brilliant, reached a lower point than at any
time in our musical history. The Carl Rosa opera company fell upon evil
days, and was compelled to restrict its energies almost entirely to the
performance of stock operas, while at Covent Garden the opportunities
afforded to native composers were few and far between. In these
disheartening circumstances it is not surprising that English musicians
were not encouraged to devote their powers to a form of art in which so
little prospect of success could be entertained. What they might have
achieved under happier conditions the operatic career of Sir Charles
Stanford suggests in the most convincing manner. Stanford is a composer
whose natural endowment conspicuously fits him for operatic work, and he
has grasped such opportunities as have been vouchsafed to him with
almost unvarying success. Had he been blessed with a more congenial
environment he would have taken rank with the foremost operatic
composers of his time.

His first opera, 'The Veiled Prophet,' was originally performed at
Hanover in 1881, but was not actually heard in London until it was
produced at Covent Garden in 1894. The libretto, an admirable