ble of rendering
a great dramatic work, singers who can give us in English the effects
which Grisi, Badiali, Mario, and Alboni produce in their own language,
we must be content with the existing state of things, and allow our
composers to write for those artists who can do justice to their
conceptions. We hope to live to hear operas in English; but meanwhile we
must have music, and, at present, the Italian stage is the only common
ground.

Mr. Southard's opera is founded upon Beckford's Oriental tale, "Vathek,"
with such alterations as are necessary to adapt it for representation.
We are told that the plot is full of dramatic situations, full of human
interest, and that its scenes appeal to all the faculties, ranging
through comedy, ballet, and melodrama, and leading to the awful Hall
of Eblis at last. The principal characters are the Caliph Omano,
_baritone_; Carathis, his mother, _mezzo soprano_; Hinda, a slave in his
harem, _soprano_; Rustam, her lover, _tenor_; and Albatros, _basso_,
a Mephistophelean spirit who tempts the Caliph on to his destruction.
Selections were made from this opera, and were performed by resident
artists, without the aid of stage effects or orchestral accompaniments.
Only the music was given, with as much of the harmony as could be played
on the grand piano by one pair of hands. There could be no severer test
than this. The music is generally Italian in form, especially in the
flowing grace of the _cantabile_ passages, and in the working up of the
climaxes. But we did not hear one of the stereotyped Italian cadenzas,
nor did we fall into old _ruts_ in following the harmonic progressions.
The orchestral figures--the framework on which the melodies are
supported--are new, ingenious, and beautiful. The duets, quartette,
and quintette show great command of resources and the utmost skill in
construction; we can hardly remember any concerted pieces in the modern
opera where the "working up" is more satisfactory, or the effect more
brilliant. How far the music exhibits an absolutely original vein of
melody, it is perhaps premature to say. No composer has ever been free
at first from the influence of the masters whom he most admired. To
mention no later instances, it is well known that Beethoven's early
works are all colored by his recollections of Mozart, and that his own
peculiar qualities were not clearly brought out until he had reached
the maturity of his powers. This seems to be the law in all