Besprechung der Uraufführung des Oberon am 12. April 1826 London, Covent-Garden Theatre

Covent-Garden Theatre.

On Wednesday the 12th of April, the long-talked of “Romantic and Fairy Opera,” Oberon, or the Elf-King’s Oath, was performed for the first time at this theatre; the dramatic part written by Mr. Planché, the music composed by M. Carl Maria von Weber.

Of the former, the author speaks thus modestly in a preface to the book of songs: —

The story, on which this Opera is founded, appeared originally in that famous collection of French Romances, “La Bibliothèque Bleue,” under the title of “Huon de Bourdeaux.” — Wieland adopted the principal incidents, and weaving them into a web of his own, composed his justly-celebrated Poem of “Oberon,” which has been tastefully translated into English by Mr. Sotheby.

The subject has been frequently dramatized, twice at least in Germany, and twice in England, not counting a Masque by Mr. Sotheby himself, which I believe was never acted. At the Baron von Weber’s desire the task has been again attempted; and I am indebted principally to Mr. Sotheby’s elegant version for the plot of the piece, but the demerits of the dialogue and lyrical portions must be visited on my head. They are presented to the Public but as the fragile threads on which a great composer has ventured to string his valuable pearls; and fully conscious of the influence that thought has had on my exertion, I feel that even as regards those threads,
If ought like praise to me belong,
With him I must divide it —
“I am not the rose,” says the Persian song,
“But I have dwelt beside it.”

The following are the principal characters: —

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The opera opens in Oberon’s bower with a chorus of fairies. Upon Oberon’s awaking, he demands of Puck where he has been since “cock-crow,” and is informed that he has been round the world, and amongst other wonders, witnessed in that short space of time, he has seen the unfortunate Sir Huon of Bourdeaux, banished by the Emperor Charlemagne; and that his return to his native country is to depend on his obtaining Reiza, the daughter of the Caliph of Bagdad, for his bride, and killing the person who sets on his left hand. Oberon, having taken an oath not to be reconciled to Titania, until
— “Some fond pair,
Through weal and woe, ’mid flood, and chains, and fire,
Shall keep their plighted faith inviolate,
Unmoved by pleasure, and unbent by pain,” conceives the project of subjecting these parties to the test, for the redemption of his oath. Puck is commanded to transport Sir Huon and Sherasman‡, his squire, into his presence, which is forthwith accomplished. The stage opens, and, on a flowery bank which arises, they are discovered asleep. Reiza is here introduced to Sir Huon in a vision; and on his waking is told by Oberon, that he shall obtain the princess and return triumphantly to France. He then presents Sir Huon an ivory horn, whose power Oberon tells him is such as to
— “Bring him to his side
Tho’ planets roll between them.”

He also presents Sherasman‡ with a golden cup, that will yield wine to the innocent, but molten lead to the guilty mouth. The parties are then transported to the banks of the Tigris, and to Bagdad, where Sir Huon hears from Namouna, that Reiza is to be married on the following day, (he having previously encountered Babekan, his rival in the affections of Reiza, and tried to test of the cup upon him, to his disadvantage,) and he determines upon an interview at all hazards.

We are now introduced to Reiza, and her attendant Fatima, in the harem of the Caliph, on the evening previous to her proposed marriage to Babekan. Reiza is deeply impressed by a vision in favour of the Knight-Paladin, and determines to die by her own hand, if he does not come to her rescue. At this moment Sir Huon and Sherasman‡ present themselves, and eventually succeed, by the assistance of the charmed horn, in destroying Babekan, and carrying off the princess, with her attendant. Oberon now appears, and having told Sir Huon that he has redeemed his knightly pledge, informs Reiza that if she repents the step she has taken, she shall be restored to the caliph, her father. She, however, is ready to meet any difficulty, or even death, rather than part from Sir Huon.

The parties are then transported to the port of Ascalon, where they embark on board a Greek vessel, and are shipwrecked on an island in the Mediterranean, by a storm raised by Oberon’s command. Sir Huon appears, supporting Reiza, who seems to be dying, but, upon his imploring the assistance of “the ruler of the awful hour,” the golden cup is washed ashore, a draught from which re-animates the expiring princess. Sir Huon then ascends a rock for the purpose of looking for succour, when a Tunisian corsair suddenly appears, the crew of which land and make lawful prize of the princess, and leave Sir Huon, who too late comes to her assistance, senseless on the shore.

The captain of the corsair, on his arrival at Tunis, presents his fair captive to Almanzor, the emir, who becomes enamoured of her. Sherasman‡ and Fatima have been also made captives, and sold as slaves to a gardener. To the garden of this man Oberon conveys Sir Huon, who learns from Fatima that the princess is kept in durance in the harem of the emir. He determines to obtain admission in the habit of a slave, and in the garden (which the harem overlooks) he finds a bouquet, which, according to the eastern interpretation, conveys the sentiments of the donor. He applies to Fatima, who assures him that ¦ it can come from no other than Reiza. Sir Huon, in pursuance of the injunctions conveyed on a leaf of one of the flowers, passes into the harem, and rushes to embrace a veiled lady, whom he supposes to be the princess, but who proves to be Roshana, the wife of the emir, who had become enamoured of his captive. At this moment Almanzor enters, and condemns Sir Huon to an instant death, as well as Reiza, who resists his importunities.

In the interim, the charmed horn has passed into the hands of Sherasman‡, who found it suspended in the garden. Through Fatima, he is induced to try if it indeed be the magic horn, and she, for her temerity in doubting, is condemned to a strong fit of laughter. She has discovered the danger of Sir Huon, and intreats Sherasman‡ to proceed to his assistance. He arrives just as the light is about to be applied to the funeral pile. He sounds the horn: the whole of the attendants are instantly seized with a dancing mania, and go off to “lively music.” Oberon then appears, informs the prince and princess that their probation is completed; transports the parties to the court of Charlemagne, and the curtain drops.

The dramatic part of this piece was only intended as a vehicle for the music, and therefore ought not to be examined with critical severity. Some of the verses are far above mediocrity, and rise into poetry; though there are weaknesses in the plot, and in the general management of the story, that are too obvious to be concealed. The scenery is far more splendid than any that we recollect to have seen, even in this house, which is so celebrated for excellence in this department. The machinery is cleverly contrived and adroitly managed, and the decorations rich and correct.

Of the music we shall have to speak in our next Review; we therefore only observe generally here, that it is more calculated for the scientific judge than for the multitude: that though it is not without melody, — as some have asserted, — yet this is very much concealed from common ears by the almost overpowering fullness of the accompaniments. We heard it rehearsed, and admired many parts of it: we attended the first performance, and discovered what had escaped us the previous evening; and we are persuaded that a further hearing will reveal to us beauties that before eluded our search, while our attention was divided between the drama, the music, the scenery, and the performers.

M. von Weber himself conducted the orchestra; he was received with a warmth that has rarely, perhaps never, been exceeded in a theatre: many rounds of applause, hats and handkerchiefs waving, with every other demonstration of approval that could be devised, testified how strongly the public opinion was in his favour. All this was repeated at the end of the opera, when, — by a vulgar and odious custom creeping into this country, but now prohibited in France, where it had its birth, — he was called on the stage; a call which, much to his credit, he complied with in a manner that shewed his reluctance to be thus brought forward.

The opera was indeed performed with a correctness, in e department, that reflects great credit on all engaged in it. Miss Paton never sang with more ability and effect: Mad. Vestris, in her two expressive songs, strongly aided the composer’s design: Miss H. Cawse wants power, certainly; otherwise we were pleased upon the whole with her performance. Mr. Braham gave his best powers in aid of the opera: he never was in better voice, and was never heard to more advantage than in the grand Scena, “Yes! even love to fame must yield.” In the softer airs he was not less successful. And as to his acting, — so long as a singer avoids what is ridiculous, and guards against error, — it is unfair to criticise him. Of Mr. C. Bland we cannot speak favourably: his voice is disagreeable, and his manner is not much better than his voice. Why did not Mr. Duruset take the character of Oberon? why incur the danger of placing it in such hands?

The orchestra did its duty well; and the chorus is entitled to no common praise for accuracy, both as relates to the music and attention to the scene.