The form of ‘Fidelio,’ like that of “Die Zauberfloete,” is that of the Singspiel.  In the earlier and lighter portions of the work the construction of the drama does not differ materially from that of the generality of Singspiele, but in the more tragic scenes the spoken dialogue is employed with novel and extraordinary force.  So far from suggesting any feeling of anti-climax, the sudden relapse into agitated speech often gives an effect more thrilling than any music could command.  At two points in the drama this is especially remarkable—­firstly, in the prison quartet, after the flourish of trumpets, when Jaquino comes in breathless haste to announce the arrival of the Minister; and secondly, in the brief dialogue between the husband and wife which separates the quartet from the following duet.  Leonore’s famous words, ‘Nichts, nichts, mein Florestan,’ in particular, if spoken with a proper sense of their exquisite truth and beauty, sum up the passionate devotion of the true-hearted wife, and her overflowing happiness at the realisation of her dearest hopes, in a manner which for genuine pathos can scarcely be paralleled upon the operatic stage.

It is hardly necessary to point out to the student of opera the steady influence which Mozart’s music exercised upon Beethoven’s development.  Yet although Beethoven learnt much from the composer of ‘Don Giovanni,’ there is a great deal in ‘Fidelio’ with which Mozart had nothing to do.  The attitude of Beethoven towards opera—­to go no deeper than questions of form—­was radically different from that of Mozart.  Beethoven’s talent was essentially symphonic rather than dramatic, and magnificent as ‘Fidelio’ is, it has many passages in which it is impossible to avoid feeling that the composer is forcing his talent into an unfamiliar if not uncongenial channel.  This is especially noticeable in the concerted pieces, in which Beethoven sometimes seems to forget all about opera, characters, dramatic situation and everything else in the sheer delight of writing music.  No one with an ounce of musical taste in his composition would wish the canon-quartet, the two trios or the two finales, to take a few instances at random, any shorter or less developed than they are, but one can imagine how Mozart would have smiled at the lack of dramatic feeling displayed in their construction.

‘Fidelio,’ as has already been said, is the only opera produced in Germany at this period which is deserving of special mention.  Mozart’s success had raised up a crop of imitators, of whom the most meritorious were Suessmayer, his own pupil; Winter, who had the audacity to write a sequel to ‘Die Zauberfloete’; Weigl, the composer of the popular ‘Schweizerfamilie’ the Abbe Vogler, who, though now known chiefly by his organ music, was a prolific writer for the stage; and Dittersdorf, a writer of genuine humour, whose spirited Singspiel, ’Doktor und Apotheker,’ carried on the traditions of Hiller successfully.  But