of the Old Testament with rare felicity.  From the magnificent opening air, ‘Champs paternels,’ to the sonorous final chorus, the work is rich in beauty of a very high order.  Of his other serious works few have remained in the current repertory, chiefly owing to their stupid libretti, for there is not one of them that does not contain music of rare excellence.  ‘Stratonice,’ a dignified setting of the pathetic old story of the prince who loves his father’s betrothed, deserves to live if only for the sake of the noble air, ‘Versez tous vos chagrins,’ a masterpiece of sublime tenderness as fine as anything in Gluck.  ‘Uthal,’ a work upon an Ossianic legend, has recently been revived with success in Germany.  It embodies a curious experiment in orchestration, the violins being entirely absent from the score.  The composer’s idea, no doubt, was to represent by this means the grey colouring and misty atmosphere of the scene in which his opera was laid, but the originality of the idea scarcely atones for the monotony in which it resulted.  Although his genius was naturally of a serious and dignified cast, Mehul wrote many works in a lighter vein, partly no doubt in emulation of Gretry, the prince of opera comique.  Mehul’s comic operas are often deficient in sparkle, but their musical force and the enchanting melodies with which they are begemmed have kept them alive, and several of them—­’Une Folie,’ for instance, and ’Le Tresor Suppose’—­have been performed in Germany during the last decade, while ‘L’Irato,’ a brilliant imitation of Italian opera buffa, has recently been given at Brussels with great success.

Although born in Florence and educated in the traditions of the Neapolitan school, Cherubini (1760-1842) belongs by right to the French school.  His ‘Lodoiska,’ which 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