water-cart.  Armand escapes to a village near Paris, but is captured by the Cardinal’s troops while protecting his wife Constance, who has followed him, from the insults of two soldiers.  In the end a pardon arrives from the Queen, and all ends happily.  In spite of the serious and even tragic cast of the plot, the use of spoken dialogue compels us to class ‘Les Deux Journees’ as an opera comique; and the same rule applies to ‘Medee,’ Cherubini’s finest work, an opera which for dignity of thought and grandeur of expression deserves to rank high among the productions of the period.  Lesueur (1763-1837) may fitly be mentioned by the side of Mehul and Cherubini.  His opera ‘Les Bardes,’ though now forgotten, has qualities of undeniable excellence.  Its faults as well as its beauties are those of the period which produced it.  It is declamatory rather than lyrical, and decorative rather than dramatic, but in the midst of its conventions and formality there is much that is true as well as picturesque.

During the closing years of the eighteenth and at the beginning of the nineteenth century the activity of the French school of opera is in remarkable contrast with the stagnation which prevailed in Italy and Germany.  Italy, a slave to the facile graces of the Neapolitan school, still awaited the composer who should strike off her chains and renew the youth of her national art; while Germany, among the crowds of imitators who clung to the skirts of Mozart’s mantle, could not produce one worthy to follow in his steps.  Yet though French opera embodied the finest thought and aspiration of the day, it is only just to observe that the impetus which impelled her composers upon new paths of progress came largely from external sources.  It is curious to note how large a share foreigners have had in building up the fabric of French opera.  Lulli, Gluck, and Cherubini in turn devoted their genius to its service.  They were followed by Spontini (1774-1851), who in spite of chauvinistic prejudice, became, on the production of ‘La Vestale’ in 1807, the most popular composer of the day.  Spontini’s training was Neapolitan, but his first visit to Paris showed him that there was no place upon the French stage for the trivialities which still delighted Italian audiences.  He devoted himself to careful study, and his one-act opera ‘Milton,’ the first-fruits of his musicianship, showed a remarkable advance upon his youthful efforts.  Spontini professed an adoration for Mozart which bordered upon idolatry, but his music shows rather the influence of Gluck.  He is the last of what may be called the classical school of operatic composers, and he shows little trace of the romanticism which was beginning to lay its hand upon music.  He was accused during his lifetime of overloading his operas with orchestration, and of writing music which it was impossible to sing—­accusations which sound strangely familiar to those who are old enough to remember the reception of Wagner in the