The music of the piece was entrusted to Louis Grabut, or Grabu, the master of the king’s band, whom Charles, French in his politics, his manners, and his taste, preferred to the celebrated Purcell.  “Purcell, however,” says an admirable judge, “having infinitely more fancy, and, indeed, harmonical resources, than the Frenchified Tuscan, his predecessor, now offered far greater pleasure and amusement to a liberal lover of music, than can be found, not only in the productions of Cambert and Grabu, whom Charles II., and, to flatter his majesty, Dryden, patronised in preference to Purcell, but in all the noisy monotony of the rhapsodist of Quinault.”—­Burney’s History of Music, Vol.  III. p. 500.

It seems to be generally admitted, that the music of “Albion and Albanius” was very indifferent.  From the preface, as well as the stage directions, it appears that a vast expence was incurred, in shew, dress, and machinery.  Downes informs us, that, owing to the interruption of the run of the piece in the manner already mentioned, the half of the expence was never recovered, and the theatre was involved considerably in debt.—­Rosc.  Anglic. p. 40.  The whigs, against whom the satire was levelled, the rival dramatists of the day, and the favourers of the English school of music, united in triumphing in its downfall[1].

Mr Luttrell’s manuscript note has fixed the first representation of “Albion and Albanius” to the 3d of June, 1685; and the laudable accuracy of Mr Malone has traced its sixth night to Saturday the 13th of the same month, when an express brought the news of Monmouth’s landing.  The opera was shortly after published.  In 1687 Grabut published the music, with a dedication to James II.[2]

Footnotes: 
1.  The following verses are rather better worthy of preservation than
   most which have been written against Dryden.

     From Father Hopkins, whose vein did inspire him,
       Bayes sends this raree-show to public view;
     Prentices, fops, and their footmen admire him,
       Thanks patron, painter, and Monsieur Grabu.

     Each actor on the stage his luck bewailing,
       Finds that his loss is infallibly true;
     Smith, Nokes, and Leigh, in a fever with railing,
       Curse poet, painter, and Monsieur Grabu.

     Betterton, Betterton, thy decorations,
       And the machines, were well written, we knew;
     But, all the words were such stuff, we want patience,
       And little better is Monsieur Grabu.

     Damme, says Underhill, I’m out of two hundred,
       Hoping that rainbows and peacocks would do;
     Who thought infallible Tom[a] could have blundered? 
       A plague upon him and Monsieur Grabu!

     Lane, thou hast no applause for thy capers,
       Though all, without thee, would make a man spew;
     And a month hence will not pay for the tapers,
       Spite of Jack Laureat, and Monsieur Grabu.