_Benvenuto Cellini_, a work that has never been revived, is not one of the finer achievements of Berlioz; in it we meet too many concessions to the virtuosity of the conventional opera prima-donna, but it is pervaded by a spirit wholly youthful, set off by sparkling instrumentation. The trio of the first act, and the sad air of Teresa; the grand quartet in the Place Colonne with its different themes ingeniously blended and strongly marked; the couplets of Ascanio; the narrative air of Cellini; the scene in which the poltroon Fieramosca simulates a duel; the charming love-duet between Teresa and Cellini,—here, indeed, are page after page of limpid melody that delight their hearers, as did the opening brilliant overture with the following long carnival scene, which reproduces with extraordinary effect the mutterings and rumblings of a crowd. This is, in truth, the climax of the work. To this opera must be joined the overture, _Le Carnaval Romain_, written later by Berlioz, and perhaps the most beautiful of his isolated overtures. In any case, it is that which has had the greatest success, eclipsing the overture, _Les Francs Juges_, even in Germany where it was at first so much applauded, as well as the overtures, _Waverly_, _The Corsair_, and _King Lear_, the last, though so expressive, having never enjoyed equal favor with _Le Carnaval Romain_. The tragedy _Les Troyens_, imitated from Virgil, marked the return to first principles made by Berlioz when maturity had calmed the effervescence of youth and the ebulition of middle age. It was taken up again in a moment of classic aspiration and shows how much the teachings of Lesueur influenced him. _La Prise de Troie_ and _Les Troyens à Carthage_, separate works, but performed together for the first time at Carlsruhe in December, 1870, are of equal worth and of a superior order. In _La Prise de Troie_ the despairing appeals of Cassandra, the tender replies of Corèbe; the fiery choruses, the ballet music, of which the local color is so appropriate; the epic grandeur of the benediction of Astyanax by Paris; the excited joy of the Trojan people welcoming the entrance of the wooden horse; the woe-fraught prophecies of Cassandra. In _Les Troyens à Carthage_ the peaceful songs of the Trojans; the sublimely touching melodies of Dido; the caressing responses of Anna; Æneas’ call to arms, and the stirring orchestral scene of the royal hunt; the third act, an unmistakable masterpiece, with its pretty dance tunes, its quintet, its incomparable septet, and its fine love-duet; the last two acts, with the sweet plaint of the sailor, Hylas; the pathetic farewell of Æneas and the splendid death scene of Dido,—all prove that both parts of _Les Troyens_ must be placed in the same rank as two great works that blend into one perfect whole.