dopted it in 1845, and between then and 1878 performed it forty-five
times.

In all the years of my intimate association with the lyric drama
(considerably more than the number of which Mr. Chorley has left us a
record) I have seen but one opera in which the plot adheres to the
Biblical story indicated by its title. That opera is Saint-Saens's
"Samson et Dalila." I have seen others whose titles and dramatis
personae suggested narratives found in Holy Writ, but in nearly all
these cases it would be a profanation of the Book to call them Biblical
operas. Those which come to mind are Goldmark's "Konigin von Saba,"
Massenet's "Herodiade" and Richard Strauss's "Salome." I have heard, in
whole or part, but not seen, three of the works which Rubinstein would
fain have us believe are operas, but which are not--"Das verlorene
Paradies," "Der Thurmbau zu Babel" and "Moses"; and I have a study
acquaintance with the books and scores of his "Maccabaer," which is an
opera; his "Sulamith," which tries to be one, and his "Christus," which
marks the culmination of the vainest effort that a contemporary
composer made to parallel Wagner's achievement on a different line.
There are other works which are sufficiently known to me through
library communion or concert-room contact to enable me to claim enough
acquaintanceship to justify converse about them and which must perforce
occupy attention in this study. Chiefest and noblest of these are
Rossini's "Moses" and Mehul's "Joseph." Finally, there are a few with
which I have only a passing or speaking acquaintance; whose faces I can
recognize, fragments of whose speech I know, and whose repute is such
that I can contrive to guess at their hearts--such as Verdi's
"Nabucodonosor" and Gounod's "Reine de Saba."

Rossini's "Moses" was the last of the Italian operas (the last by a
significant composer, at least) which used to be composed to ease the
Lenten conscience in pleasure-loving Italy. Though written to be played
with the adjuncts of scenery and costumes, it has less of action than
might easily be infused into a performance of Mendelssohn's "Elijah,"
and the epical element which finds its exposition in the choruses is
far greater than that in any opera of its time with which I am
acquainted. In both its aspects, as oratorio and as opera, it harks
back to a time when the two forms were essentially the same save in
respect of subject matter. It is a convenient working hypothesis to
take the