Auber has never been so popular in England as abroad, and the only two works of his which are now performed in this country—­’Fra Diavolo’ and ’Masaniello’—­represent him, curiously enough, at his best and worst respectively.  The scene of ‘Fra Diavolo’ is laid at a village inn in Italy.  Lord and Lady Rocburg, the conventional travelling English couple, arrive in great perturbation, been stopped by brigands and plundered of some of their property.  At the inn they fall in with a distinguished personage calling himself the Marquis di San Marco, who is none other than the famous brigand chief Fra Diavolo.  He makes violent love to the silly Englishwoman, and soon obtains her confidence.  Meanwhile Lorenzo, the captain of a body of carabineers, who loves the innkeeper’s daughter Zerlina, has hurried off after the brigands.  He comes up with them and kills twenty, besides getting back Lady Rocburg’s stolen jewels.  Fra Diavolo is furious at the loss of his comrades, and vows vengeance on Lorenzo.  That night he conceals himself in Zerlina’s room, and, when all is still, admits two of his followers into the house.  Their nocturnal schemes are frustrated by the return of Lorenzo and his soldiers, who have been out in search of the brigand chief.  Fra Diavolo is discovered, but pretends that Zerlina has given him an assignation.  Lorenzo is furious at this accusation, and challenges the brigand to a duel.  Before this comes off, however, Fra Diavolo’s identity is discovered, and he is captured by Lorenzo and his band.  ‘Fra Diavolo’ shows Auber in his happiest vein.  The music is gay and tuneful, without dropping into commonplace; the rhythms are brilliant and varied, and the orchestration neat and appropriate.

‘La Muette de Portici,’ which is known in the Italian version as ‘Masaniello,’ was written for the Grand Opera.  Here Auber vainly endeavoured to suit his style to its more august surroundings.  The result is entirely unsatisfactory; the more serious parts of the work are pretentious and dull, and the pretty little tunes, which the composer could not keep out of his head, sound absurdly out of place in a serious drama.  Fenella, the dumb girl of Portici, has been seduced by Alfonso, the son of the Spanish Viceroy of Naples.  She escapes from the confinement to which she had been subjected, and denounces him on the day of his marriage to the Spanish princess Elvira.  Masaniello, her brother, maddened by her wrongs, stirs up a revolt among the people, and overturns the Spanish rule.  He contrives to save the lives of Elvira and Alfonso, but this generous act costs him his life, and in despair Fenella leaps into the stream of boiling lava from an eruption of Vesuvius.  The part of Fenella gives an opportunity of distinction to a clever pantomimist, and has been associated with the names of many famous dancers; but the music of the opera throughout is one of the least favourable examples of Auber’s skill.  Auber had many imitators, among whom perhaps the most