The Standard Operas: Their Plots, Their Music, and Their Composers
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Title: The Standard Operas: Their Plots, Their Music, and Their Composers
Author: George P. Upton
Release date: February 8, 2005 [eBook #14968]
Most recently updated: December 19, 2020
Language: English
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THE STANDARD OPERAS
Their Plots, Their Music, and Their Composers
A Handbook
by
GEORGE P. UPTON
Twelfth Edition
Chicago: A. C. McClurg and Company
1897
PREFACE.
The object of the compiler of this Handbook is to present to the
reader a brief but comprehensive sketch of each of the operas
contained in the modern repertory which are likely to be given during
regular seasons. To this end he has consulted the best authorities,
adding to the material thus collected his own observations, and in
each case presented a necessarily brief sketch of the composer, the
story of each opera, the general character of the music, its prominent
scenes and numbers,--the latter in the text most familiar to
opera-goers,--the date of first performances, with a statement of the
original cast wherever it has been possible to obtain it, and such
historical information concerning the opera and its composition as
will be of interest to the reader. The work has been prepared for the
general public rather than for musicians; and with this purpose in
view, technicalities have been avoided as far as possible, the aim
being to give musically uneducated lovers of opera a clear
understanding of the works they are likely to hear, and thus heighten
their enjoyment. In a word, the operas are described rather than
criticised, and the work is presented with as much thoroughness as
seemed possible considering the necessarily brief space allotted to
each. In the preparation of the Handbook, the compiler acknowledges
his indebtedness to Grove's excellent "Dictionary of Music" for dates
and other statistical information; and he has also made free use of
standard musical works in his library for historical events connected
with the performance and composition of the operas. It only remains to
submit this work to opera-goers with the hope that it may add to their
enjoyment and prove a valuable addition to their libraries.--G.P.U.
CHICAGO, August, 1885.
CONTENTS.
AUBER
FRA DIAVOLO
MASANIELLO
THE CROWN DIAMONDS
BALFE
THE BOHEMIAN GIRL
THE ROSE OF CASTILE
BEETHOVEN
FIDELIO
BELLINI
NORMA
LA SONNAMBULA
I PURITANI
BIZET
CARMEN
BOIELDIEU
LA DAME BLANCHE
BOITO
MEPHISTOPHELES
DELIBES
LAKME
DONIZETTI
THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT
LA FAVORITA
DON PASQUALE
LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR
L'ELISIR D'AMORE
LUCREZIA BORGIA
FLOTOW
MARTHA
STRADELLA
GLUCK
ORPHEUS
GOETZ
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
GOLDMARK
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
MERLIN
GOUNOD
FAUST
ROMEO AND JULIET
MIREILLE
HALEVY
THE JEWESS
HUMPERDINCK
HANSEL AND GRETEL
LEONCAVALLO
I PAGLIACCI
MASCAGNI
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA
MEYERBEER
THE HUGUENOTS
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
ROBERT THE DEVIL
DINORAH
THE PROPHET
THE AFRICAN
MOZART
THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO
DON GIOVANNI
THE MAGIC FLUTE
ROSSINI
THE BARBER OF SEVILLE
SEMIRAMIDE
WILLIAM TELL
RUBINSTEIN
NERO
THOMAS
MIGNON
VERDI
ERNANI
RIGOLETTO
LA TRAVIATA
IL TROVATORE
THE MASKED BALL
AIDA
OTHELLO
FALSTAFF
WAGNER
RIENZI
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
TANNHÄUSER
LOHENGRIN
TRISTAN UND ISOLDE
THE MASTERSINGERS
THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG
DAS RHEINGOLD
DIE WALKÜRE
SIEGFRIED
DIE GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG
PARSIFAL
WALLACE
MARITANA
WEBER
DER FREISCHÜTZ
OBERON
EURYANTHE
APPENDIX
INDEX
AUBER.
Daniel François Esprit Auber, one of the most prominent
representatives of the opera comique, was born at Caen, in Normandy,
Jan. 29, 1784. He first attracted attention in the musical world by
his songs and ballads, written when a mere boy. Young as he was, they
were great favorites in French and English drawing-rooms, and their
success diverted him from his commercial intentions to that profession
in which he was destined to achieve such popularity. His début was
made as an instrumental composer in his twentieth year, but before he
had reached his thirtieth he was engrossed with operatic composition.
His first two works were unsuccessful; but the third, "La Bergère
Châtelaine," proved the stepping-stone to a career of remarkable
popularity, during which he produced a large number of dramatic works,
which not only secured for him the enthusiastic admiration of the
Parisians, with whom he was always a favorite, but also carried his
name and fame throughout the world, and obtained for him marks of high
distinction from royalty, such as the office of Director of the
Conservatoire from Louis Philippe, and that of Imperial Maître de
Chapelle from Louis Napoleon. He died May 13, 1871, amid the fearful
scenes of the Paris Commune. His best-known operas are: "Masaniello"
(1828); "Fra Diavolo" (1830); "The Bronze Horse" (1835); "The Black
Domino" (1837); "The Crown Diamonds" (1841); and "Zerline"
(1851),--the last-named written for the great contralto, Mme. Alboni.
Of these, "Fra Diavolo," "Masaniello," and "The Crown Diamonds" are as
fresh as ever in their French and Italian settings, though their
finest successes in this country have been made in their English
dress.
FRA DIAVOLO.
"Fra Diavolo," opera comique, in three acts, words by Scribe, was
first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, Jan. 28, 1830; in English,
at Drury Lane, London, Nov. 3, 1831; in Italian, at the Lyceum,
London, July 9, 1857, for which occasion the spoken dialogue was
converted into accompanied recitative. The composer himself also, in
fitting it for the Italian stage, made some changes in the concerted
music and added several morceaux. The original Italian cast was as
follows:--
ZERLINA Mme. BOSIO.
LADY ALLCASH Mlle. MARAI.
FRA DIAVOLO Sig. GARDINI.
LORD ALLCASH Sig. RONCONI.
BEPPO Sig. TAGLIAFICO.
GIACOMO Sig. ZELGER.
The original of the story of Fra Diavolo is to be found in Lesueur's
opera, "La Caverne," afterwards arranged as a spectacular piece and
produced in Paris in 1808 by Cuvellier and Franconi, and again in
Vienna in 1822 as a spectacle-pantomime, under the title of "The
Robber of the Abruzzi." In Scribe's adaptation the bandit, Fra
Diavolo, encounters an English nobleman and his pretty and susceptible
wife, Lord and Lady Allcash, at the inn of Terracina, kept by Matteo,
whose daughter Zerlina is loved by Lorenzo, a young soldier, on the
eve of starting to capture Fra Diavolo when the action of the opera
begins. In the first scene the English couple enter in great alarm,
having narrowly escaped the robbery of all their valuables by Fra
Diavolo's band. The bandit himself, who has followed them on their
journey in the disguise of a marquis, and has been particularly
attentive to the lady, enters the inn just as Lord Allcash has been
reproving his wife for her familiarity with a stranger. A quarrel
ensues in a duet of a very humorous character ("I don't object"). Upon
the entrance of Fra Diavolo, a quintet ("Oh, Rapture unbounded!")
ensues, which is one of the most effective and admirably harmonized
ensembles Auber has ever written. Fra Diavolo learns the trick by
which they saved the most of their valuables, and, enraged at the
failure of his band, lays his own plan to secure them. In an interview
with Zerlina, she, mistaking him for the Marquis, tells him the story
of Fra Diavolo in a romanza ("On Yonder Rock reclining"), which is so
fresh, vigorous, and full of color, that it has become a favorite the
world over. To further his schemes, Fra Diavolo makes love to Lady
Allcash and sings an exquisitely graceful barcarole to her ("The
Gondolier, fond Passion's Slave"), accompanying himself on the
mandolin. Lord Allcash interrupts the song, and the trio, "Bravi,
Bravi," occurs, which leads up to the finale of the act. Fra Diavolo
eludes the carbineers, who have returned, and they resume their search
for him, leaving him unmolested to perfect his plans for the robbery.
The second act introduces Zerlina in her chamber about to retire. She
first lights Lord and Lady Allcash to their room, a running
conversation occurring between them in a trio ("Let us, I pray, good
Wife, to rest"), which by many good critics has been considered as the
best number in the work. Before Zerlina returns to her chamber, Fra
Diavolo and his companions, Beppo and Giacomo, conceal themselves in a
closet, and, somewhat in violation of dramatic consistency, Fra
Diavolo sings the beautiful serenade, "Young Agnes," which had been
agreed upon as a signal to his comrades that the coast was clear.
Zerlina enters, and after a pretty cavatina ("'Tis to-morrow") and a
prayer, charming for its simplicity ("Oh, Holy Virgin"), retires to
rest. The robbers in attempting to cross her room partially arouse
her. One of them rushes to the bed to stab her, but falls back
awe-stricken as she murmurs her prayer and sinks to rest again. The
trio which marks this scene, sung pianissimo, is quaint and simple and
yet very dramatic. The noise of the carbineers returning outside
interrupts the plan of the robbers. They conceal themselves in the
closet again. Zerlina rises and dresses herself. Lord and Lady Allcash
rush in _en deshabille_ to find out the cause of the uproar. Lorenzo
enters to greet Zerlina, when a sudden noise in the closet disturbs
the company. Fra Diavolo, knowing he will be detected, boldly steps
out into the room and declares that he is there to keep an appointment
with Zerlina. Lorenzo challenges him, and he promises to give him
satisfaction in the morning, and coolly effects his escape. One of his
comrades, however, is captured, and to secure his own liberty agrees
to betray his chief.
The third act introduces Fra Diavolo once more among his native
mountains, and there is the real breath and vigor of the mountain air
in his opening song ("Proudly and wide my Standard flies"), and
rollicking freedom in the rondeau which follows it ("Then since Life
glides so fast away"). He exults in his liberty, and gleefully looks
forward to a meeting with Lord and Lady Allcash, which he anticipates
will redound to his personal profit. His exultation is interrupted by
the entrance of the villagers arrayed in festival attire in honor of
the approaching wedding ceremonies, singing a bright pastoral chorus
("Oh, Holy Virgin! bright and fair"). The finale of the act is
occupied with the development of the scheme between Lorenzo, Beppo,
and Giacomo, to ensnare Fra Diavolo and compass his death; and with
the final tragedy, in which Fra Diavolo meets his doom at the hands of
the carbineers, but not before he has declared Zerlina's innocence.
This finale is strong and very dramatic, and yet at the same time
simple, natural, and unstudied. The opera itself is a universal
favorite, not alone for its naturalness and quiet grace, but for its
bright and even boisterous humor, which is sustained by the typical
English tourist, who was for the first time introduced in opera by
Scribe. The text is full of spirit and gayety, and these qualities are
admirably reflected in the sparkling music of Auber. Not one of the
books which the versatile Scribe has supplied for the opera is more
replete with incident or brighter in humor. How well it was adapted
for musical treatment is shown by the fact that "Fra Diavolo" made
Auber's reputation at the Opera Comique.
MASANIELLO.
"Masaniello," or "La Muette de Portici," a lyric opera in five acts,
words by Scribe and Delavigne, was first produced in Paris, Feb. 29,
1828; in English, at London, May 4, 1829; and in Italian, at London,
March 15, 1849. The original cast included Mme. Damoreau-Cinti as
Elvira, Mlle. Noblet as Fenella, and M. Massol as Pietro. In the
Italian version, Sig. Mario, Mme. Dorus-Gras, and Mlle. Leroux, a
famous mime and dancer, took the principal parts; while in its English
dress, Braham created one of the greatest successes on record, and
established it as the favorite opera of Auber among Englishmen.
The scene of the opera is laid near Naples. The first act opens upon
the festivities attending the nuptials of Alphonso, son of the Duke of
Arcos, and the Princess Elvira. After a chorus of rejoicing, the
latter enters and sings a brilliant cavatina ("O, bel Momento")
expressive of her happiness. In the fourth scene the festivities are
interrupted by the appearance of Fenella, the dumb girl, who implores
the princess to save her from Selva, one of the Duke's officers, who
is seeking to return her to prison, from which she has escaped, and
where she has been confined at the orders of some unknown cavalier who
has been persecuting her. The part of Fenella is of course expressed
by pantomime throughout. The remainder of the act is intensely
dramatic. Elvira promises to protect Fenella, and then, after some
spirited choruses by the soldiers, enters the chapel with Alphonso.
During the ceremony Fenella discovers that he is her betrayer. She
attempts to go in, but is prevented by the soldiers. On the return of
the newly wedded pair Fenella meets Elvira and denounces her husband,
and the scene ends with a genuine Italian finale of excitement.
The second act opens on the sea-shore, and shows the fishermen busy
with their nets and boats. Masaniello, brother of Fenella, enters,
brooding upon the wrongs of the people, and is implored by the
fishermen to cheer them with a song. He replies with the barcarole,
"Piu bello sorse il giorno,"--a lovely melody, which has been the
delight of all tenors. His friend Pietro enters and they join in a
duet ("Sara il morir") of a most vigorous and impassioned character,
expressive of Masaniello's grief for his sister and their mutual
resolution to strike a blow for freedom. At the conclusion of the duet
he beholds Fenella about to throw herself into the sea. He calls to
her and she rushes into his arms and describes to him the story of her
wrongs. He vows revenge, and in a magnificent, martial finale, which
must have been inspired by the revolutionary feeling with which the
whole atmosphere was charged at the time Auber wrote (1828), incites
the fishermen and people to rise in revolt against their tyrannical
oppressors.
In the third act, after a passionate aria ("Il pianto rasciuga") by
Elvira, we are introduced to the market-place, crowded with
market-girls and fishermen disposing of their fruits and fish. After a
lively chorus, a fascinating and genuine Neapolitan tarantelle is
danced. The merry scene speedily changes to one of turmoil and
distress. Selva attempts to arrest Fenella, but the fishermen rescue
her and Masaniello gives the signal for the general uprising. Before
the combat begins, all kneel and sing the celebrated prayer, "Nume del
ciel," taken from one of Auber's early masses, and one of his most
inspired efforts.
The fourth act opens in Masaniello's cottage. He deplores the coming
horrors of the day in a grand aria ("Dio! di me disponesti") which is
very dramatic in its quality. Fenella enters, and after describing the
tumult in the city sinks exhausted with fatigue. As she falls asleep
he sings a slumber song ("Scendi, o sonno dal ciel"), a most exquisite
melody, universally known as "L'Air du Sommeil." It is sung by the
best artists mezzo voce throughout, and when treated in this manner
never fails to impress the hearer with its tenderness and beauty. At
its close Pietro enters and once more rouses Masaniello to revenge by
informing him that Alphonso has escaped. After they leave the cottage,
the latter and Elvira enter and implore protection. Fenella is moved
to mercy, and a concerted number follows in which Masaniello promises
safety and is denounced by Pietro for his weakness. In the finale, the
magistrates and citizens enter, bearing the keys of the town and the
royal insignia, and declare Masaniello king in a chorus of a very
inspiriting and brilliant character.
The last act is very powerful, both dramatically and musically. It
opens in the grounds of the Viceroy's palace, and Vesuvius is seen in
the distance, its smoke portending an eruption. Pietro and companions
enter with wine-cups in their hands, as from a banquet, and the former
sings a barcarole ("Ve' come il vento irato"). At its close other
fishermen enter and excitedly announce that troops are moving against
the people, that Vesuvius is about to burst into flame, and that
Masaniello, their leader, has lost his reason. This is confirmed by
the appearance of the hero in disordered attire, singing music through
which are filtered fragments of the fishermen's songs as they rise in
his disturbed brain. This scene, the third in the act, is one not only
of great power but of exquisite grace and tenderness, and requires an
artist of the highest rank for its proper presentation. Fenella rouses
him from his dejection, and he once more turns and plunges into the
fight, only to be killed by his own comrades. On learning of her
brother's death she unites the hands of Alphonso and Elvira, and then
in despair throws herself into the burning lava of Vesuvius.
"Masaniello" made Auber's fame at the Grand Opera, as "Fra Diavolo"
made it at the Opera Comique. It has no points in common with that or
any other of his works. It is serious throughout, and full of power,
impetuosity, and broad dramatic treatment. Even Richard Wagner has
conceded its vigor, bold effects, and original harmonies. Its melodies
are spontaneous, its instrumentation full of color, and its stirring
incidents are always vigorously handled. In comparison with his other
works it seems like an inspiration. It is full of the revolutionary
spirit, and its performance in Brussels in 1830 was the cause of the
riots that drove the Dutch out of Belgium.
THE CROWN DIAMONDS.
"The Crown Diamonds" ("Les Diamans de la Couronne"), opera comique, in
three acts, words by Scribe and St. George, one of the most charming
of Auber's light operas, was first produced in Paris in 1841, but its
reputation has been made on the English stage. It was first performed
in London, at the Princess Theatre, May 2, 1844, with Mme. Anna
Thillon, a charming singer and most fascinating woman, as Catarina;
but its success was made at Drury Lane in 1854 by Louisa Pyne and
Harrison, who took the parts of Catarina and Don Henrique. The other
rôles, Count de Campo Mayor, Don Sebastian, Rebolledo, and Diana, were
filled by Mr. Horncastle, Mr. Reeves, Mr. Borrani, and Miss Pyne,
sister of the preceding, and with this cast the opera ran a hundred
nights.
The story of the opera is laid in Portugal, time, 1777. The opening
scene discloses the ruins of a castle in the mountains, near the
monastery of St. Huberto, where Don Henrique, nephew of the Count de
Campo Mayor, Minister of Police at Coimbra, overtaken by a storm,
seeks shelter. At the time of his misfortune he is on his way to take
part in the approaching coronation, and also to sign a marriage
contract with his cousin Diana, daughter of the Minister of Police. He
solaces himself with a song ("Roll on, Roll on"), during which he
hears the blows of hammers in a distant cavern, and on looking round
discovers Rebolledo, the chief of the coiners, and two of his
comrades, with his trunk in their possession, the contents of which
they proceed to examine. Don Henrique conceals himself while Rebolledo
is singing a rollicking muleteer's song ("O'er Mountain steep, through
Valley roaming"). At its conclusion Rebolledo, about to summon the
other coiners to their secret work, discovers Don Henrique, and
thinking him a spy rushes upon him. He is saved by the sudden entrance
of Catarina, the leader of the gang, who tells the story of her life
in a concerted number that reminds one very strikingly of the bandit
song in "Fra Diavolo." After examining Don Henrique, and, to his
surprise, showing an intimate acquaintance with his projects, she
returns him his property, and allows him to depart on condition that
he shall not speak of what he has seen for a year. He consents; and
then follows another of the concerted numbers in which this opera
abounds, and in which occurs a charming rondo ("The Young Pedrillo"),
accompanied by a weird, clanging chorus. Before he can effect his
departure the gang find that they are surrounded by troops led by Don
Sebastian, a friend of Don Henrique. The coiners, in company with the
latter, however, make their escape in the disguise of monks on their
way to the neighboring monastery, singing a lugubrious chorus ("Unto
the Hermit of the Chapel"), while Catarina and Rebolledo elude the
soldiers by taking a subterranean passage, carrying with them a casket
containing some mysterious jewels.
The second act opens in the Château de Coimbra, and discovers the
Count, Don Henrique, Don Sebastian, and Diana. The first scene reveals
to us that Don Henrique is in love with the mysterious Catarina, and
that Diana is in love with Don Sebastian. In a sportive mood Diana
requests Don Henrique to sing with her, and chooses a nocturne called
"The Brigand," which closes in gay bolero time ("In the Deep Ravine of
the Forest"). As they are singing it, Don Sebastian announces that a
carriage has been overturned and its occupants desire shelter. As the
duet proceeds, Catarina and Rebolledo enter, and a very flurried
quintet ("Oh, Surprise unexpected!") occurs, leading up to an ensemble
full of humor, with a repetition of the brigand song, this time by
Catarina and Diana, and closing with a bravura aria sung by Catarina
("Love! at once I break thy Fetters"). Catarina and Rebolledo accept
the proffered hospitality, but the latter quietly makes his exit when
Diana begins to read an account of a robbery which contains a
description of himself and his companion. Catarina remains, however,
in spite of Don Henrique's warning that she is in the house of the
Minister of Police. In a moment of passion he declares his love for
her and begs her to fly with him. She declines his proffer, but gives
him a ring as a souvenir. A pretty little duet ("If I could but
Courage feel") ensues between Diana and Don Henrique, in which she
gently taunts him with his inattention to her and his sudden interest
in the handsome stranger. At this juncture the Count enters in wild
excitement over the announcement that the crown jewels have been
stolen. Don Henrique's ring is recognized as one of them, and in the
excitement which ensues, Catarina finds herself in danger of
discovery, from which she is rescued by Diana, who promises Don
Henrique she will send her away in the Count's carriage if he will
agree to refuse to sign the marriage contract. He consents, and she
departs upon her errand. At this point in the scene Don Henrique sings
the beautiful ballad, "Oh, whisper what thou feelest!" originally
written for Mr. Harrison. This song leads up to a stirring finale, in
which Don Henrique refuses to sign the contract and Catarina makes her
escape.
The last act opens in the anteroom of the royal palace at Lisbon,
where Diana is waiting for an audience with the Queen. She sings
another interpolated air, originally written for Louisa Pyne ("When
Doubt the tortured Frame is rending"), and at its close the Count, Don
Henrique, and Don Sebastian enter. While they are conversing,
Rebolledo appears, announced as the Count Fuentes, and a quintet
occurs, very slightly constructed, but full of humor. An usher
interrupts it by announcing the Queen will have a private audience
with the Count Fuentes. While awaiting her, the latter, in a
monologue, lets us into the secret that the real crown jewels have
been pledged for the national debt, and that he has been employed to
make duplicates of them to be worn on state occasions until the real
ones can be redeemed. The Queen enters, and expresses her satisfaction
with the work, and promotes him to the position of Minister of Secret
Police. On his departure she sings a charming cavatina ("Love, dwell
with me"), and at its close Count de Campo Mayor enters with the
decision of the Council that she shall wed the Prince of Spain. She
returns answer that she shall make her own choice. The Count seeks to
argue with her, when she threatens to confiscate his estate for
allowing the crown jewels to be stolen, and commands him to arrest his
daughter and nephew for harboring the thieves. Diana suddenly enters,
and an amusing trio ensues, the Queen standing with her back to Diana
lest she may be discovered. The latter fails to recognize her as
Catarina, and implores pardon for assisting in her escape. The
situation is still further complicated by the appearance of Don
Henrique, who has no difficulty in recognizing Catarina. Bewildered at
her presence in the Queen's apartments, he declares to Diana that he
will seize her and fly to some distant land. His rash resolution,
however, is thwarted by his arrest, on the authority of the Queen, for
treason. A martial finale introduces us to the Queen in state. Don
Henrique rushes forward to implore mercy for Catarina. The Queen
reveals herself at last, and announces to her people that she has
chosen Don Henrique, who has loved her for herself, for her husband
and their king. And thus closes one of the most sparkling, melodious,
and humorous of Auber's works. What the concerted numbers lack in
solidity of construction is compensated for by their grace and
sweetness.
BALFE.
Michael William Balfe was born at Dublin, Ireland, May 15, 1808. Of
all the English opera-composers, his career was the most versatile, as
his success, for a time at least, was the most remarkable. At seven
years of age he scored a polacca of his own for a band. In his eighth
year he appeared as a violinist, and in his tenth was composing
ballads. At sixteen he was playing in the Drury Lane orchestra, and
about this time began taking lessons in composition. In 1825, aided by
the generosity of a patron, he went to Italy, where for three years he
studied singing and counterpoint. In his twentieth year he met
Rossini, who offered him an engagement as first barytone at the
Italian Opera in Paris. He made his début with success in 1828, and at
the close of his engagement returned to Italy, where he appeared again
on the stage. About this time (1829-1830) he began writing Italian
operas, and before he left Italy had produced three which met with
considerable success. In 1835 he returned to England; and it was in
this year that his first English opera, the "Siege of Rochelle," was
produced. It was played continuously at Drury Lane for over three
months. In 1836 appeared his "Maid of Artois;" in 1837, "Catharine
Grey" and "Joan of Arc;" and in 1838, "Falstaff." During these years
he was still singing in concerts and opera, and in 1840 appeared as
manager of the Lyceum. His finest works were produced after this
date,--"The Bohemian Girl" in 1843; "The Enchantress" in 1844; "The
Rose of Castile," "La Zingara," and "Satanella" in 1858, and "The
Puritan's Daughter" in 1861. His last opera was "The Knight of the
Leopard," known in Italian as "Il Talismano," which has also been
produced in English as "The Talisman." He married Mlle. Rosen, a
German singer, whom he met in Italy in 1835; and his daughter
Victoire, who subsequently married Sir John Crampton, and afterwards
the Duc de Frias, also appeared as a singer in 1856. Balfe died Oct.
20, 1870, upon his own estate in Hertfordshire. The analysis of his
three operas which are best known--"The Bohemian Girl," "Rose of
Castile," and "Puritan's Daughter"--will contain sufficient reference
to his ability as a composer.
THE BOHEMIAN GIRL.
"The Bohemian Girl," grand opera in three acts, words by Bunn, adapted
from St. George's ballet of "The Gypsy," which appeared at the Paris
Grand Opera in 1839,--itself taken from a romance by Cervantes,--was
first produced in London, Nov. 27, 1843, at Drury Lane, with the
following cast:--
ARLINE Miss ROMER.
THADDEUS Mr. HARRISON.
GYPSY QUEEN Miss BETTS.
DEVILSHOOF Mr. STRETTON.
COUNT ARNHEIM Mr. BORRANI.
FLORESTEIN Mr. DURNSET.
The fame of "The Bohemian Girl" was not confined to England. It was
translated into various European languages, and was one of the few
English operas which secured a favorable hearing even in critical
Germany. In its Italian form it was produced at Drury Lane as "La
Zingara," Feb. 6, 1858, with Mlle. Piccolomini as Arline; and also had
the honor of being selected for the state performance connected with
the marriage of the Princess Royal. The French version, under the name
of "La Bohémienne," for which Balfe added several numbers, besides
enlarging it to five acts, was produced at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris,
in December, 1869, and gained for him the Cross of the Legion of
Honor.
The scene of the opera is laid in Austria, and the first act
introduces us to the château and grounds of Count Arnheim, Governor of
Presburg, whose retainers are preparing for the chase. After a short
chorus the Count enters with his little daughter Arline and his nephew
Florestein. The Count sings a short solo ("A Soldier's Life"), and as
the choral response by his retainers and hunters dies away and they
leave the scene, Thaddeus, a Polish exile and fugitive, rushes in
excitedly, seeking to escape the Austrian soldiers. His opening number
is a very pathetic song ("'Tis sad to leave your Fatherland"). At the
end of the song a troop of gypsies enter, headed by Devilshoof,
singing a blithe chorus ("In the Gypsy's Life you may read"). He hears
Thaddeus's story and induces him to join them. Before the animated
strains fairly cease, Florestein and some of the hunters dash across
the grounds in quest of Arline, who has been attacked by a stag.
Thaddeus, seizing a rifle, joins them, and rescues the child by
killing the animal. The Count overwhelms him with gratitude, and urges
him to join in the coming festivities. He consents, and at the banquet
produces a commotion by refusing to drink the health of the Emperor.
The soldiers are about to rush upon him, when Devilshoof interferes.
The gypsy is arrested for his temerity, and taken into the castle.
Thaddeus departs and the festivities are resumed, but are speedily
interrupted again by the escape of Devilshoof, who takes Arline with
him. The finale of the act is very stirring, and contains one number,
a prayer ("Thou who in Might supreme"), which is extremely effective.
Twelve years elapse between the first and second acts, and during this
time Count Arnheim has received no tidings of Arline, and has given
her up as lost forever. The act opens in the gypsy camp in the suburbs
of Presburg. Arline is seen asleep in the tent of the Queen, with
Thaddeus watching her. After a quaint little chorus ("Silence,
silence, the Lady Moon") sung by the gypsies, they depart in quest of
plunder, headed by Devilshoof, and soon find their victim in the
person of the foppish and half-drunken Florestein, who is returning
from a revel. He is speedily relieved of his jewelry, among which is a
medallion, which is carried off by Devilshoof. As the gypsies
disappear, Arline wakes and relates her dream to Thaddeus in a joyous
song ("I dreamed I dwelt in Marble Halls"), which has become one of
the world's favorites. At the close of the ballad Thaddeus tells her
the meaning of the scar upon her arm, and reveals himself as her
rescuer, but does not disclose to her the mystery of her birth. The
musical dialogue, with its ensemble, "The Secret of her Birth," will
never lose its charm. Thaddeus declares his love for her just as the
Queen, who is also in love with Thaddeus, enters. Arline also
confesses her love for Thaddeus, and, according to the customs of the
tribe, the Queen unites them, at the same time vowing vengeance
against the pair.
The scene now changes to a street in the city. A great fair is in
progress, and the gypsies, as usual, resort to it. Arline enters at
their head, joyously singing, to the accompaniment of the rattling
castanets, "Come with the Gypsy Bride;" her companions, blithely
tripping along, responding with the chorus, "In the Gypsy's Life you
may read." They disappear down the street and reappear in the public
plaza. Arline, the Queen, Devilshoof, and Thaddeus sing an
unaccompanied quartet ("From the Valleys and Hills"), a number which
for grace and flowing harmony deserves a place in any opera. As they
mingle among the people an altercation occurs between Arline and
Florestein, who has attempted to insult her. The Queen recognizes
Florestein as the owner of the medallion, and for her courage in
resenting the insult maliciously presents Arline with it. Shortly
afterwards he observes the medallion on Arline's neck, and has her
arrested for theft. The next scene opens in the hall of justice. Count
Arnheim enters with a sad countenance, and as he observes Arline's
portrait, gives vent to his sorrow in that well-known melancholy
reverie, "The Heart bowed down," which has become famous the world
over. Arline is brought before him for trial. As it progresses he
observes the scar upon her arm and asks its cause. She tells the story
which Thaddeus had told her, and this solves the mystery. The Count
recognizes his daughter, and the act closes with a beautiful ensemble
("Praised be the Will of Heaven").
The last act opens in the salon of Count Arnheim. Arline is restored
to her old position, but her love for Thaddeus remains. He finds an
opportunity to have a meeting with her, through the cunning of
Devilshoof, who accompanies him. He once more tells his love in that
tender and impassioned song, "When other Lips and other Hearts," and
she promises to be faithful to him. As the sound of approaching steps
is heard, Thaddeus and his companion conceal themselves. A large
company enter, and Arline is presented to them. During the ceremony a
closely veiled woman appears, and when questioned discovers herself as
the Gypsy Queen. She reveals the hiding-place of her companions, and
Thaddeus is dragged forth and ordered to leave the house. Arline
declares her love for him, and her intention to go with him. She
implores her father to relent. Thaddeus avows his noble descent, and
boasts his ancestry and deeds in battle in that stirring martial song,
"When the Fair Land of Poland." The Count finally yields and gives his
daughter to Thaddeus. The Queen, filled with rage and despair, induces
one of the tribe to fire at him as he is embracing Arline; but by a
timely movement of Devilshoof the bullet intended for Thaddeus pierces
the breast of the Queen. As the curtain falls, the old song of the
gypsies is heard again as they disappear in the distance with
Devilshoof at their head.
Many of the operas of Balfe, like other ballad operas, have become
unfashionable; but it is doubtful whether "The Bohemian Girl" will
ever lose its attraction for those who delight in song-melody,
charming orchestration, and sparkling, animated choruses. It leaped
into popularity at a bound, and its pretty melodies are still as fresh
as when they were first sung.
THE ROSE OF CASTILE.
"The Rose of Castile," comic opera in three acts, words by Harris and
Falconer, adapted from Adolphe Adam's "Muletier de Tolède," was first
produced at the Lyceum Theatre, London, Oct. 29, 1857, with the
following cast:--
ELVIRA Miss LOUISA PYNE.
MANUEL W.H. HARRISON.
CARMEN Miss SUSAN PYNE.
DON PEDRO Mr. WEISS.
DON SALLUST Mr. ST. ALBYN.
DON FLORIO Mr. HONEY.
The scene of the opera is laid in Spain. Elvira, the Rose of Castile,
Queen of Leon, has just ascended the throne, and her hand has been
demanded by the King of Castile for his brother, Don Sebastian the
Infant. Having learned that the latter is about to enter her dominions
disguised as a muleteer, the better to satisfy his curiosity about
her, she adopts the same expedient, and sets out to intercept him,
disguised as a peasant girl, taking with her one of her attendants.
The first act opens upon a rural scene in front of a posada, where the
peasants are dancing and singing a lively chorus ("List to the gay
Castanet"). Elvira and Carmen, her attendant, enter upon the scene,
and are asked to join in the dance, but instead, Elvira delights them
with a song, a vocal scherzo ("Yes, I'll obey you"). The innkeeper is
rude to them, but they are protected from his coarseness by Manuel,
the muleteer, who suddenly appears and sings a rollicking song ("I am
a simple Muleteer") to the accompaniment of a tambourine and the
snappings of his whip. A dialogue duet follows, in which she accepts
his protection and escort. She has already recognized the Infant, and
he has fulfilled the motive of the story by falling in love with her.
At this point the three conspirators, Don Pedro, Don Sallust, and Don
Florio, enter, the first of whom has designs on the throne. They
indulge in a buffo trio, which develops into a spirited bacchanal
("Wine, Wine, the Magician thou art!"). Observing Elvira's likeness to
the Queen, they persuade her to personate her Majesty. She consents
with feigned reluctance, and after accepting their escort in place of
Manuel's, being sure that he will follow, she sings a quaint rondo
("Oh, were I the Queen of Spain!"), and the act closes with a
concerted number accompanying their departure.
The second act opens in the throne-room of the palace, and is
introduced by a very expressive conspirators' chorus ("The Queen in
the Palace"); after which Don Pedro enters and gives expression to the
uncertainty of his schemes in a ballad ("Though Fortune darkly o'er me
frowns") which reminds one very forcibly of "The Heart bowed down," in
"The Bohemian Girl." The Queen, who has eluded the surveillance of the
conspirators, makes her appearance, surrounded by her attendants, and
sings that exquisite ballad, "The Convent Cell" ("Of Girlhood's happy
Days I dream"), one of the most beautiful songs ever written by any
composer, and certainly Balfe's most popular inspiration. At the close
of the ballad Manuel appears, and is granted an audience, in which he
informs her of the meeting with the peasant girl and boy, and declares
his belief that they were the Queen and Carmen. She ridicules the
statement, and a very funny trio buffo ensues ("I'm not the Queen, ha,
ha!"). He then informs her of the conspirators' plot to imprison her,
but she thwarts it by inducing a silly and pompous old Duchess to
assume the rôle of Queen for the day, and ride to the palace closely
veiled in the royal carriage. The plot succeeds, and the Duchess is
seized and conveyed to a convent. In the next scene there is another
spirited buffo number, in which Don Pedro and Don Florio are mourning
over the loss of their peasant girl, when, greatly to their relief,
she enters again, singing a very quaint and characteristic scena ("I'm
but a simple Peasant Maid"), which rouses the suspicions of the
conspirators. They are all the more perplexed when the Queen announces
herself, and declares her intention of marrying the muleteer.
The last act opens with a song by Carmen ("Though Love's the greatest
Plague in Life"), which falls far below the excellence of the other
songs in the work. It is followed by a buffo duet between Carmen and
Florio, who agree to marry. The Queen and ladies enter, and the former
sings a bravura air ("Oh, joyous, happy Day!"), which was intended by
the composer to show Miss Pyne's vocal ability. At this point a
message is brought her from Don Sebastian, announcing his marriage.
Enraged at the discovery that the muleteer is not Don Sebastian, she
severely upbraids him, and he replies in another exquisite ballad
("'Twas Rank and Fame that tempted thee"). At its close she once more
declares she will be true to the muleteer. Don Pedro is delighted at
the apparent success of his scheme, as he believes he can force her to
abdicate if she marries a muleteer, and gives vent to his joy in a
martial song ("Hark! hark! methinks I hear"). The last scene is in the
throne-room, where Manuel announces he is king of Castile, and mounts
the throne singing a stirring song closely resembling, in its style,
the "Fair Land of Poland," in "The Bohemian Girl." Elvira expresses
her delight in a bravura air ("Oh, no! by Fortune blessed"), and the
curtain falls. The story of the opera is very complicated, and
sometimes tiresome; but the music is well sustained throughout,
especially the buffo numbers, while some of the ballads are among the
best ever written by an English composer.
BEETHOVEN.
Ludwig Von Beethoven, the greatest of composers, was born Dec. 17,
1770, at Bonn, Germany, his father being a court singer in the chapel
of the Elector of Cologne. He studied in Vienna with Haydn, with whom
he did not always agree, however, and afterwards with Albrechtsberger.
His first symphony appeared in 1801, his earlier symphonies, in what
is called his first period, being written in the Mozart style. His
only opera, "Fidelio," for which he wrote four overtures, was first
brought out in Vienna in 1805; his oratorio, "Christ on the Mount of
Olives," in 1812; and his colossal Ninth Symphony, with its choral
setting of Schiller's "Ode to Joy," in 1824. In addition to his
symphonies, his opera, oratorios, and masses, and the immortal group
of sonatas for the piano, which were almost revelations in music, he
developed chamber music to an extent far beyond that reached by his
predecessors, Haydn and Mozart. His symphonies exhibit surprising
power, and a marvellous comprehension of the deeper feelings in life
and the influences of nature, both human and physical. He wrote with
the deepest earnestness, alike in the passion and the calm of his
music, and he invested it also with a genial humor as well as with the
highest expression of pathos. His works are epic in character. He was
the great tone-poet of music. His subjects were always lofty and
dignified, and to their treatment he brought not only a profound
knowledge of musical technicality, but intense sympathy with the
innermost feelings of human nature, for he was a humanitarian in the
broadest sense. By the common consent of the musical world he stands
at the head of all composers, and has always been their guide and
inspiration. He died March 26, 1827, in the midst of a raging thunder
storm, one of his latest utterances being a recognition of the "divine
spark" in Schubert's music.
FIDELIO.
"Fidelio, oder die eheliche Liebe" ("Fidelio, or Conjugal Love"),
grand opera in two acts, words by Sonnleithner, translated freely from
Bouilly's "Léonore, ou l'Amour Conjugal," was first produced at the
Theatre An der Wien, Vienna, Nov. 20, 1805, the work at that time
being in three acts. A translation of the original programme of that
performance, with the exception of the usual price of admissions, is
appended:--
Imperial and Royal Theatre An der Wien.
New Opera.
To-day, Wednesday, 20 November, 1805, at the Imperial and Royal
Theatre An der Wien, will be given for the first time.
FIDELIO;
Or, Conjugal Love.
Opera in three acts, translated freely from the French text by
JOSEPH SONNLEITHNER.
The music is by LUDWIG VON BEETHOVEN.
_Dramatis Personae_.
_Don Fernando_, Minister Herr Weinkoff.
_Don Pizarro_, Governor of a State Prison Herr Meier.
_Florestan_, prisoner Herr Demmer.
_Leonora_, his wife, under the name of _Fidelio_ Fräulein Milder.
_Rocco_, chief jailer Herr Rothe.
_Marcellina_, his daughter Fräulein Müller.
_Jaquino_, turnkey Herr Cache.
_Captain of the Guard_ Herr Meister.
_Prisoners, Guards, People_.
The action passes in a State prison in Spain, a few leagues from
Seville. The piece can be procured at the box-office for fifteen
kreutzers.
During this first season the opera was performed three times and then
withdrawn. Breuning reduced it to two acts, and two or three of the
musical numbers were sacrificed, and in this form it was played twice
at the Imperial Private Theatre and again withdrawn. On these
occasions it had been given under Beethoven's favorite title,
"Leonore." In 1814 Treitschke revised it, and it was produced at the
Kärnthnerthor Theatre, Vienna, May 23, of that year, as "Fidelio,"
which title it has ever since retained. Its first performance in Paris
was at the Théâtre Lyrique, May 5, 1860; in London, at the King's
Theatre, May 18, 1832; and in English at Covent Garden, June 12, 1835,
with Malibran in the title-rôle. Beethoven wrote four overtures for
this great work. The first was composed in 1805, the second in 1806,
the third in 1807, and the fourth in 1814. It is curious that there
has always been a confusion in their numbering, and the error remains
to this day. What is called No. 1 is in reality No. 3, and was
composed for a performance of the opera at Prague, the previous
overture having been too difficult for the strings. The splendid
"Leonora," No. 3, is in reality No. 2, and the No. 2 is No. 1. The
fourth, or the "Fidelio" overture, contains a new set of themes, but
the "Leonora" is the grandest of them all.
The entire action of the opera transpires in a Spanish prison, of
which Don Pizarro is governor and Rocco the jailer. The porter of the
prison is Jacquino, who is in love with Marcellina, daughter of Rocco,
and she in turn is in love with Fidelio, Rocco's assistant, who has
assumed male disguise the better to assist her in her plans for the
rescue of her husband, Florestan, a Spanish nobleman. The latter, who
is the victim of Don Pizarro's hatred because he had thwarted some of
his evil designs, has been imprisoned by him unknown to the world, and
is slowly starving to death. Leonora, his wife, who in some way has
discovered that her husband is in the prison, has obtained employment
of Rocco, disguised as the young man Fidelio.
The opera opens with a charming, playful love-scene between Jacquino
and Marcellina, whom the former is teasing to marry him. She puts him
off, and as he sorrowfully departs, sings the Hope aria, "Die
Hoffnung," a fresh, smoothly flowing melody, in which she pictures the
delight of a life with Fidelio. At its close Rocco enters with the
despondent Jacquino, shortly followed by Fidelio, who is very much
fatigued. The love-episode is brought out in the famous canon quartet,
"Mir ist so wunderbar," one of the most beautiful and restful numbers
in the opera. Rocco promises Marcellina's hand to Fidelio as the
reward of her fidelity, but in the characteristic and sonorous Gold
song, "Hat man nicht auch Geld daneben," reminds them that money as
well as love is necessary to housekeeping. In the next scene, while
Don Pizarro is giving instructions to Rocco, a packet of letters is
delivered to him, one of which informs him that Don Fernando is coming
the next day to inspect the prison, as he has been informed that it
contains several victims of arbitrary power. He at once determines
that Florestan shall die, and gives vent to his wrath in a furious
dramatic aria ("Ha! welch ein Augenblick!"). He attempts to bribe
Rocco to aid him. The jailer at first refuses, but subsequently, after
a stormy duet, consents to dig the grave. Fidelio has overheard the
scheme, and, as they disappear, rushes forward and sings the great
aria, "Abscheulicher!" one of the grandest and most impassioned
illustrations of dramatic intensity in the whole realm of music. The
recitative expresses intense horror at the intended murder, then
subsides into piteous sorrow, and at last breaks out into the glorious
adagio, "Komm Hoffnung," in which she sings of the immortal power of
love. The last scene of the act introduces the strong chorus of the
prisoners as they come out in the yard for air and sunlight, after
which Rocco relates to Fidelio his interview with Don Pizarro. The
latter orders the jailer to return the prisoners to their dungeons and
go on with the digging of the grave, and the act closes.
The second act opens in Florestan's dungeon. The prisoner sings an
intensely mournful aria ("In des Lebens Frühlingstagen"), which has a
rapturous finale ("Und spür' Ich nicht linde"), as he sees his wife in
a vision. Rocco and Fidelio enter and begin digging the grave, to the
accompaniment of sepulchral music. She discovers that Florestan has
sunk back exhausted, and as she restores him recognizes her husband.
Don Pizarro enters, and after ordering Fidelio away, who meanwhile
conceals herself, attempts to stab Florestan. Fidelio, who has been
closely watching him, springs forward with a shriek, and interposes
herself between him and her husband. He once more advances to carry
out his purpose, when Fidelio draws a pistol and defies him. As she
does so, the sound of a trumpet is heard outside announcing the
arrival of Don Fernando. Don Pizarro rushes out in despair, and
Florestan and Leonora, no longer Fidelio, join in a duet ("O Namenlose
Freude") which is the very ecstasy of happiness. In the last scene Don
Fernando sets the prisoners free in the name of the king, and among
them Florestan. Pizarro is revealed in his true character, and is led
away to punishment. The happy pair are reunited, and Marcellina, to
Jacquino's delight, consents to marry him. The act closes with a
general song of jubilee. As a drama and as an opera "Fidelio" stands
almost alone in its perfect purity, in the moral grandeur of its
subject, and in the resplendent ideality of its music.
BELLINI.
Vincenzo Bellini was born Nov. 3, 1802, at Catania, Sicily, and came
of musical parentage. By the generosity of a patron he was sent to
Naples, and studied at the Conservatory under Zingarelli. His first
opera was "Adelson e Salvino," and its remarkable merit secured him a
commission from the manager, Barbaja, for an opera for San Carlo. The
result was his first important work, "Bianca e Fernando," written in
1826. Its success was moderate; but he was so encouraged that he at
once went to Milan and wrote "Il Pirata," the tenor part for Rubini.
Its success was extraordinary, and the managers of La Scala
commissioned him for another work. In 1828 "La Straniera" appeared,
quickly followed by "Zaira" (1829), which failed at Parma, and "I
Capuletti ed i Montecchi," a version of "Romeo and Juliet," which made
a great success at Venice in 1830. A year later he composed "La
Sonnambula," unquestionably his best work, for La Scala, and it
speedily made the tour of Europe, and gained for him an extended
reputation. A year after its appearance he astonished the musical
world with "Norma," written, like "Sonnambula," for Mme. Pasta. These
are his greatest works. "Norma" was followed by "Beatrice di Tenda,"
and this by "I Puritani," his last opera, written in Paris for the
four great artists, Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache. Bellini
died Sept. 23, 1835, in the twenty-ninth year of his age, preserving
his musical enthusiasm to the very last. He was a close follower of
Rossini, and studied his music diligently, and though without a very
profound knowledge of harmony or orchestration, succeeded in producing
at least three works, "Norma," "Sonnambula," and "I Puritani," which
were the delight of the opera-goers of his day, and still freshly hold
the stage.
NORMA.
"Norma," a serious opera in two acts, words by Romani, was first
produced during the season of Lent, 1832, at Milan, with the principal
parts cast as follows:--
NORMA Mme. PASTA.
ADALGISA Mme. GRISI.
POLLIONE Sig. DONZELLI.
It was first heard in London in 1833, and in Paris in 1855, and
Planché's English version of it was produced at Drury Lane in 1837.
The scene of the opera is laid among the Druids, in Gaul, after its
occupation by the Roman legions. In the first scene the Druids enter
with Oroveso, their priest, to the impressive strains of a religious
march which is almost as familiar as a household word. The priest
announces that Norma, the high priestess, will come and cut the sacred
branch and give the signal for the expulsion of the Romans. The next
scene introduces Pollione, the Roman proconsul, to whom Norma, in
defiance of her faith and traditions, has bound herself in secret
marriage, and by whom she has had two children. In a charmingly
melodious scena ("Meco all' altar di Venere") he reveals his
faithlessness and guilty love for Adalgisa, a young virgin of the
temple, who has consented to abandon her religion and fly with him to
Rome. In the fourth scene Norma enters attended by her priestesses,
and denounces the Druids for their warlike disposition, declaring that
the time has not yet come for shaking off the yoke of Rome, and that
when it does she will give the signal from the altar of the Druids.
After cutting the sacred mistletoe, she comes forward and invokes
peace from the moon in that exquisite prayer, "Casta Diva," which
electrified the world with its beauty and tenderness, and still holds
its place in popular favor, not alone by the grace of its
embellishments, but by the pathos of its melody. It is followed by
another cavatina of almost equal beauty and tenderness ("Ah! bello a
me ritorna"). In the next scene Adalgisa, retiring from the sacred
rites, sings of her love for Pollione, and as she closes is met by the
proconsul, who once more urges her to fly to Rome with him. The duet
between them is one of great power and beauty, and contains a
strikingly passionate number for the tenor ("Va, crudele"). Oppressed
by her conscience, she reveals her fatal promise to Norma, and
implores absolution from her vows. Norma yields to her entreaties, but
when she inquires the name and country of her lover, and Adalgisa
points to Pollione as he enters Norma's sanctuary, all the priestess's
love turns to wrath. In this scene the duet, "Perdoni e ti compiango,"
is one of exceeding loveliness and peculiarly melodious tenderness.
The act closes with a terzetto of great power ("O! di qual sei tu"),
in which both the priestess and Adalgisa furiously denounce the
faithless Pollione. In the midst of their imprecations the sound of
the sacred shield is heard calling Norma to the rites.
The second act opens in Norma's dwelling, and discovers her children
asleep on a couch. Norma enters with the purpose of killing them, but
the maternal instinct overcomes her vengeful thought that they are
Pollione's children. Adalgisa appears, and Norma announces her
intention to place her children in the Virgin's hands, and send her
and them to Pollione while she expiates her offence on the funeral
pyre. Adalgisa pleads with her not to abandon Pollione, who will
return to her repentant; and the most effective number in the opera
ensues,--the grand duet containing two of Bellini's most beautiful
inspirations, the "Deh! con te li prendi," and the familiar "Mira, O
Norma," whose strains have gone round the world and awakened universal
delight. Pollione, maddened by his passion for Adalgisa, impiously
attempts to tear her from the altar in the temple of Irminsul,
whereupon Norma enters the temple and strikes the sacred shield,
summoning the Druids. They meet, and she declares the meaning of the
signal is war, slaughter, and destruction. She chants a magnificent
hymn ("Guerra, guerra"), which is full of the very fury of battle.
Pollione, who has been intercepted in the temple, is brought before
her. Love is still stronger than resentment with her. In a very
dramatic scena ("In mia mano alfin tu sei") she informs him he is in
her power, but she will let him escape if he will renounce Adalgisa
and leave the country. He declares death would be preferable;
whereupon she threatens to denounce Adalgisa. Pity overcomes anger,
however. She snatches the sacred wreath from her brow and declares
herself the guilty one. Too late Pollione discovers the worth of the
woman he has abandoned, and a beautiful duet ("Qual cor tradisti")
forms the closing number. She ascends the funeral pyre with Pollione,
and in its flames they are purged of earthly crime. It is a memorable
fact in the history of this opera, that on its first performance it
was coldly received, and the Italian critics declared it had no
vitality; though no opera was ever written in which such intense
dramatic effect has been produced with simple melodic force, and no
Italian opera score to-day is more living or more likely to last than
that of Norma.
LA SONNAMBULA.
"La Sonnambula," an opera in two acts, words by Romani, was first
produced in Milan, March 6, 1831, with the following cast:--
AMINA Mme. PASTA.
ELVINO Sig. RUBINI.
RODOLFO Sig. MARIANO.
LISA Mme. TOCCANI.
It was brought out in the same year in Paris and London, and two years
after in English, with Malibran as Amina. The subject of the story was
taken from a vaudeville and ballet by Scribe. The scene is laid in
Switzerland. Amina, an orphan, the ward of Teresa, the miller's wife,
is about to marry Elvino, a well-to-do landholder of the village.
Lisa, mistress of the inn, is also in love with Elvino, and jealous of
her rival. Alessio, a peasant lad, is also in love with the landlady.
Such is the state of affairs on the day before the wedding. Rodolfo,
the young lord of the village, next appears upon the scene. He has
arrived incognito for the purpose of looking up his estates, and stops
at Lisa's inn, where he meets Amina. He gives her many pretty
compliments, much to the dissatisfaction of the half-jealous Elvino,
who is inclined to quarrel with the disturber of his peace of mind.
Amina, who is subject to fits of somnambulism, has been mistaken for a
ghost by the peasants, and they warn Rodolfo that the village is
haunted. The information, however, does not disturb him, and he
quietly retires to his chamber. The officious Lisa also enters, and a
playful scene of flirtation ensues, during which Amina enters the
room, walking in her sleep. Lisa seeks shelter in a closet. Rodolfo,
to escape from the embarrassment of the situation, leaves the
apartment, and Amina reclines upon the bed as if it were her own. The
malicious Lisa hurries from the room to inform Elvino of what she has
seen, and thoughtlessly leaves her handkerchief. Elvino rushes to the
spot with other villagers, and finding Amina, as Lisa had described,
declares that she is guilty, and leaves her. Awakened by the noise,
the unfortunate girl, realizing the situation, sorrowfully throws
herself into Teresa's arms. The villagers implore Rodolfo to acquit
Amina of any blame, and he stoutly protests her innocence; but it is
of no avail in satisfying Elvino, who straightway offers his hand to
Lisa. In the last act Amina is seen stepping from the window of the
mill in her sleep. She crosses a frail bridge which yields beneath her
weight and threatens to precipitate her upon the wheel below; but she
passes it in safety, descends to the ground, and walks into her
lover's arms amid the jubilant songs of the villagers. Elvino is
convinced of her innocence, and they are wedded at once, while the
discovery of Lisa's handkerchief in Rodolfo's room pronounces her the
faithless one.
Such is the simple little pastoral story to which Bellini has set some
of his most beautiful melodies, the most striking of which are the
aria, "Sovra il sen," in the third scene of the first act, where Amina
declares her happiness to Teresa; the beautiful aria for barytone in
the sixth scene, "Vi ravviso," descriptive of Rodolfo's delight in
revisiting the scenes of his youth; the playful duet between Amina and
Elvino, "Mai piu dubbi!" in which she rebukes him for his jealousy;
the humorous and very characteristic chorus of the villagers in the
tenth scene, "Osservate, l'uscio è aperto," as they tiptoe into
Rodolfo's apartment; the duet, "O mio dolor," in the next scene, in
which Amina asserts her innocence; the aria for tenor in the third
scene of the second act, "Tutto e sciolto," in which Elvino bemoans
his sad lot; and that joyous ecstatic outburst of birdlike melody,
"Ah! non giunge," which closes the opera. In fact, "Sonnambula" is so
replete with melodies of the purest and tenderest kind, that it is
difficult to specify particular ones. It is exquisitely idyllic
throughout, and the music is as quiet, peaceful, simple, and tender as
the charming pastoral scenes it illustrates.
I PURITANI.
"I Puritani di Scozia," an opera in two acts, words by Count Pepoli,
was first produced at the Théâtre Italien, Paris, Jan. 25, 1835, and
in London in the following May, under the title of "I Puritani ed i
Cavalieri." The original cast was as follows:--
ELVIRA Mme. GRISI.
ARTURO Sig. RUBINI.
RICARDO Sig. TAMBURINI.
GIORGIO Sig. LABLACHE.
This cast was one of unexampled strength, and was long known in Europe
as the Puritani quartet. The story of the opera is laid in England,
during the war between Charles II. and his Parliament, and the first
scene opens in Plymouth, then held by the parliamentary forces. The
fortress is commanded by Lord Walton, whose daughter, Elvira, is in
love with Lord Arthur Talbot, a young cavalier in the King's service.
Her hand had previously been promised to Sir Richard Forth, of the
parliamentary army; but to the great delight of the maiden, Sir George
Walton, brother of the commander, brings her the news that her father
has relented, and that Arthur will be admitted into the fortress that
the nuptials may be celebrated. Henrietta, widow of Charles I., is at
this time a prisoner in the fortress, under sentence of death passed
by Parliament. Arthur discovers her situation, and by concealing her
in Elvira's bridal veil seeks to effect her escape. On their way out
he encounters his rival; but the latter, discovering that the veiled
lady is not Elvira, allows them to pass. The escape is soon
discovered, and Elvira, thinking her lover has abandoned her, loses
her reason. Arthur is proscribed by the Parliament and sentenced to
death; but Sir Richard, moved by the appeals of Sir George Walton, who
hopes to restore his niece to reason, promises to use his influence
with Parliament to save Arthur's life should he be captured unarmed.
Arthur meanwhile manages to have an interview with Elvira; and the
latter, though still suffering from her mental malady, listens
joyfully to his explanation of his sudden flight. Their interview is
disturbed by a party of Puritans who enter and arrest him. He is
condemned to die on the spot; but before the sentence can be carried
out, a messenger appears with news of the king's defeat and the pardon
of Arthur. The joyful tidings restore Elvira to reason, and the lovers
are united.
The libretto of "I Puritani" is one of the poorest ever furnished to
Bellini, but the music is some of his best. It is replete with
melodies, which are not only fascinating in their original setting,
but have long been favorites on the concert-stage. The opera is
usually performed in three acts, but was written in two. The prominent
numbers of the first act are the pathetic cavatina for Ricardo, "Ah!
per sempre io ti perdei," in which he mourns the loss of Elvira; a
lovely romanza for tenor ("A te o cara"); a brilliant polacca ("Son
vergin vezzosa") for Elvira, which is one of the delights of all
artists; and a concerted finale, brimming over with melody and closing
with the stirring anathema chorus, "Non casa, non spiaggia." The first
grand number in the second act is Elvira's mad song, "Qui la voce," in
which are brought out not only that rare gift for expressing pathos in
melody for which Bellini is so famous, but the sweetest of themes and
most graceful of embellishments. The remaining numbers are Elvira's
appeal to her lover ("Vien, diletto"), the magnificent duet for basses
("Suoni la tromba"), known as the "Liberty Duet," which in
sonorousness, majesty, and dramatic intensity hardly has an equal in
the whole range of Italian opera; a tender and plaintive romanza for
tenor ("A una fonte aflitto e solo"); a passionate duet for Arthur and
Elvira ("Star teco ognor"); and an adagio, sung by Arthur in the
finale ("Ella è tremante").
BIZET.
Georges Bizet was born at Paris, Oct. 25, 1838, and in an artistic
atmosphere, as his father, an excellent teacher, was married to a
sister of Mme. Delsarte, a talented pianist, and his uncle, a
musician, was the founder of the famous Delsarte system. He studied
successively with Marmontel and Benoist, and subsequently took lessons
in composition from Halevy, whose daughter he afterwards married. His
first work was an operetta of not much consequence, "Docteur Miracle,"
written in 1857, and in the same year he took the Grand Prix de Rome.
On his return from Italy he composed "Vasco de Gama" and "Les Pecheurs
de Perles," neither of which met with much success. In 1867 "La Jolie
Fille de Perth" appeared, and in 1872, "Djamileh." During the
intervals of these larger works he wrote the Patrie overture and the
interludes to "L'Arlesienne," a very poetical score which Theodore
Thomas introduced to this country, and both works were received with
enthusiasm. At last he was to appreciate and enjoy a real dramatic
success, though it was his last work. "Carmen" appeared in 1875, and
achieved a magnificent success at the Opera Comique. It was brought
out in March, and in the following June he died of acute
heart-disease. He was a very promising composer, and specially
excelled in orchestration. During his last few years he was a close
student of Wagner, whose influence is apparent in this last work of
his life.
CARMEN.
"Carmen," an opera in four acts, words by Meilhac and Halevy, adapted
from Prosper Merimée's romance of "Carmen," was first produced at the
Opera Comique, Paris, March 3, 1875, with Mme. Galli-Marie in the
title-rôle and Mlle. Chapuy as Michaela. The scene is laid in Seville,
time 1820. The first act opens in the public square, filled with a
troop of soldiers under command of Don José, and loungers who are
waiting the approach of the pretty girls who work in the cigar-factory
near by, and prettiest and most heartless of them all, Carmen. Before
they appear, Michaela, a village girl, enters the square, bearing a
message to Don José from his mother, but not finding him departs. The
cigar-girls at last pass by on their way to work, and with them
Carmen, who observes Don José sitting in an indifferent manner and
throws him the rose she wears in her bosom. As they disappear,
Michaela returns and delivers her message. The sight of the gentle
girl and the thought of home dispel Don José's sudden passion for
Carmen. He is about to throw away her rose, when a sudden disturbance
is heard in the factory. It is found that Carmen has quarrelled with
one of the girls and wounded her. She is arrested, and to prevent
further mischief her arms are pinioned. She so bewitches the
lieutenant, however, that he connives at her escape and succeeds in
effecting it, while she is led away to prison by the soldiers. In the
second act Carmen has returned to her wandering gypsy life, and we
find her with her companions in the cabaret of Lillas-Pastia, singing
and dancing. Among the new arrivals is Escamillo, the victorious
bull-fighter of Grenada, with whom Carmen is at once fascinated. When
the inn is closed, Escamillo and the soldiers depart, but Carmen waits
with two of the gypsies, who are smugglers, for the arrival of Don
José. They persuade her to induce him to join their band, and when the
lieutenant, wild with passion for her, enters the apartment, she
prevails upon him to remain in spite of the trumpet-call which summons
him to duty. An officer appears and orders him out. He refuses to go,
and when the officer attempts to use force Carmen summons the gypsies.
He is soon overpowered, and Don José escapes to the mountains. The
third act opens in the haunt of the smugglers, a wild, rocky,
cavernous place. Don José and Carmen, who is growing very indifferent
to him, are there. As the contrabandists finish their work and
gradually leave the scene, Escamillo, who has been following Carmen,
appears. His presence and his declarations as well arouse the jealousy
of Don José. They rush at each other for mortal combat, but the
smugglers separate them. Escamillo bides his time, invites them to the
approaching bullfight at Seville, and departs. While Don José is
upbraiding Carmen, the faithful Michaela, who has been guided to the
spot, begs him to accompany her, as his mother is dying. Duty
prevails, and he follows her as Escamillo's taunting song is heard
dying away in the distance. In the last act the drama hurries on to
the tragic dénouement. It is a gala-day in Seville, for Escamillo is
to fight. Carmen is there in his company, though her gypsy friends
have warned her Don José is searching for her. Amid great pomp
Escamillo enters the arena, and Carmen is about to follow, when Don
José appears and stops her. He appeals to her and tries to awaken the
old love. She will not listen, and at last in a fit of wild rage hurls
the ring he had given her at his feet. The shouts of the people in the
arena announce another victory for Escamillo. She cries out with joy.
Don José springs at her like a tiger, and stabs her just as Escamillo
emerges from the contest.
Carmen is the largest and best-considered of all Bizet's works, and
one of the best in the modern French repertory. The overture is short
but very brilliant. After some characteristic choruses by the street
lads, soldiers, and cigar-girls, Carmen sings the Havanaise ("Amor,
misterioso angelo"), a quaint song in waltz time, the melody being
that of an old Spanish song by Tradier, called "El Aveglito." A
serious duet between Michaela and Don José ("Mia madre io la rivedo")
follows, which is very tender in its character. The next striking
number is the dance tempo, "Presso il bastion de Seviglia," a
seguidilla sung by Carmen while bewitching Don José. In the finale, as
she escapes, the Havanaise, which is the Carmen motive, is heard
again.
The second-act music is peculiarly Spanish in color, particularly that
for the ballet. The opening song of the gypsies in the cabaret, to the
accompaniment of the castanets ("Vezzi e anella scintillar"), is
bewitching in its rhythm, and is followed in the next scene by a
stirring and very picturesque aria ("Toreador attento"), in which
Escamillo describes the bull-fight. A beautifully written quintet
("Abbiamo in vista"), and a strongly dramatic duet, beginning with
another fascinating dance tempo ("Voglio danzar pel tuo piacer"), and
including a beautiful pathetic melody for Don José ("Il fior che
avevi"), closes the music of the act.
The third act contains two very striking numbers, the terzetto of the
card-players in the smugglers' haunt ("Mischiam! alziam!"), and
Michaela's aria ("Io dico no, non son paurosa"), the most effective
and beautiful number in the whole work, and the one which shows most
clearly the effect of Wagner's influence upon the composer. In the
finale of the act the Toreador's song is again heard as he disappears
in the distance after the quarrel with Don José.
The last act is a hurly-burly of the bull-fight, the Toreador's taking
march, the stormy duet between Don José and Carmen, and the tragic
dénouement in which the Carmen motive is repeated. The color of the
whole work is Spanish, and the dance tempo is freely used and
beautifully worked up with Bizet's ingenious and scholarly
instrumentation. Except in the third act, however, the vocal parts are
inferior to the orchestral treatment.
BOIELDIEU.
François Adrien Boieldieu was born Dec. 16, 1775, at Rouen, France.
Little is known of his earlier life, except that he studied for a time
with Broche, the cathedral organist. His first opera, "La Fille
Coupable," appeared in 1793, and was performed at Rouen with some
success. In 1795 a second opera, "Rosalie et Myrza," was performed in
the same city; after which he went to Paris, where he became
acquainted with many prominent musicians, among them Cherubini. His
first Paris opera was the "Famille Suisse" (1797), which had a
successful run. Several other operas followed, besides some excellent
pieces of chamber music which secured him the professorship of the
piano in the Conservatory. He also took lessons at this time of
Cherubini in counterpoint, and in 1803 brought out a very successful
work, "Ma Tante Aurore." We next hear of him in St. Petersburg, as
conductor of the Imperial Opera, where he composed many operas and
vaudevilles. He spent eight years in Russia, returning to Paris in
1811. The next year one of his best operas, "Jean de Paris," was
produced with extraordinary success. Though he subsequently wrote many
operas, fourteen years elapsed before his next great work, "La Dame
Blanche," appeared. Its success was unprecedented. All Europe was
delighted with it, and it is as fresh to-day as when it was first
produced. The remainder of Boieldieu's life was sad, owing to operatic
failures, pecuniary troubles, and declining health. He died at Jarcy,
near Paris, Oct. 8, 1834.
LA DAME BLANCE.
"La Dame Blanche," opera comique in three acts, words by Scribe,
adapted from Walter Scott's novels, "The Monastery" and "Guy
Mannering," was first produced at the Opera Comique, Dec. 10, 1825,
and was first performed in English under the title of "The White
Maid," at Covent Garden, London, Jan. 2, 1827. The scene of the opera
is laid in Scotland. The Laird of Avenel, a zealous partisan of the
Stuarts, was proscribed after the battle of Culloden, and upon the eve
of going into exile intrusts Gaveston, his steward, with the care of
the castle, and of a considerable treasure which is concealed in a
statue called the White Lady. The traditions affirmed that this lady
was the protectress of the Avenels. All the clan were believers in the
story, and the villagers declared they had often seen her in the
neighborhood. Gaveston, however, does not share their superstition nor
believe in the legend, and some time after the departure of the Laird
he announces the sale of the castle, hoping to obtain it at a low rate
because the villagers will not dare to bid for it through fear of the
White Lady. The steward is led to do this because he has heard the
Laird is dead, and knows there is no heir to the property. Anna, an
orphan girl, who had been befriended by the Laird, determines to
frustrate Gaveston's designs, and appears in the village disguised as
the White Lady. She also writes to Dickson, a farmer, who is indebted
to her, to meet her at midnight in the castle of Avenel. He is too
superstitious to go, and George Brown, a young lieutenant who is
sharing his hospitality, volunteers in his stead. He encounters the
White Lady, and learns from her he will shortly meet a young lady who
has saved his life by her careful nursing after a battle,--Anna
meanwhile recognizing George as the person she had saved. When the day
of sale comes, Dickson is empowered by the farmers to purchase the
castle, so that it may not fall into Gaveston's hands. George and Anna
are there; and the former, though he has not a shilling, buys it under
instructions from Anna. When the time comes for payment, Anna produces
the treasure which had been concealed in the statue, and, still in the
disguise of the White Lady, discovers to him the secret of his birth
during the exile of his parents. Gaveston approaches the spectre and
tears off her veil, revealing Anna, his ward. Moved by the zeal and
fidelity of his father's protégée, George offers her his hand, which,
after some maidenly scruples, she accepts.
The opera is full of beautiful songs, many of them Scotch in
character. In the first act the opening song of George ("Ah, what
Pleasure a Soldier to be!") is very poetical in its sentiment. It also
contains the characteristic ballad of the White Lady, with choral
responses ("Where yon Trees your Eye discovers"), and an exquisitely
graceful trio in the finale ("Heavens! what do I hear?"). The second
act opens with a very plaintive romanza ("Poor Margaret, spin away!"),
sung by Margaret, Anna's old nurse, at her spinning-wheel, as she
thinks of the absent Laird, followed in the fifth scene by a beautiful
cavatina for tenor ("Come, O Gentle Lady"). In the seventh scene is a
charming duet ("From these Halls"), and the act closes with an
ensemble for seven voices and chorus, which has hardly been excelled
in ingenuity of treatment. The third act opens with a charmingly
sentimental aria for Anna ("With what delight I behold"), followed in
the third scene by a stirring chorus of mountaineers, leading up to
"the lay ever sung by the Clan of Avenel,"--the familiar old ballad,
"Robin Adair," which loses a little of its local color under French
treatment, but gains an added grace. It is stated on good authority
that two of Boieldieu's pupils, Adolph Adam and Labarre, assisted him
in the work, and that the lovely overture was written in one
evening,--Boieldieu taking the andante and the two others the
remaining movements. Though a little old-fashioned in some of its
phrasing, the opera still retains its freshness and beautiful
sentiment. Its popularity is best evinced by the fact that up to June,
1875, it had been given 1340 times at the theatre where it was first
produced.
BOITO.
Arrigo Boito was born in 1840, and received his musical education in
the Conservatory at Milan, where he studied for nine years. In 1866 he
became a musical critic for several Italian papers, and about the same
time wrote several poems of more than ordinary merit. Both in
literature and music his taste was diversified; and he combined the
two talents in a remarkable degree in his opera of "Mephistopheles,"
the only work by which he is known to the musical world at large. He
studied Goethe profoundly; and the notes which he has appended to the
score show a most intimate knowledge of the Faust legend. His text is
in one sense polyglot, as he has made use of portions of Marlowe's
"Doctor Faustus," as well as excerpts from Blaze de Bury, Lenau,
Widmann, and others who have treated the legend. He studied Wagner's
music also very closely, and to such purpose that after the first
performance of this opera at La Scala, in 1868, the critics called him
the Italian Wagner, and, in common with the public, condemned both him
and his work. After Wagner's "Lohengrin" had been produced in Italy
and met with success, Boito saw his opportunity to once more bring out
his work. It was performed at Bologna in 1875, and met with an
enthusiastic success. Its introduction to this country is largely due
to Mme. Christine Nilsson, though Mme. Marie Roze was the first artist
to appear in it here.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
"Mephistopheles," grand opera in a prologue, four acts, and epilogue,
words by the composer, was first performed at La Scala, Milan, in
1868. The "Prologue in the Heavens" contains five numbers, a prelude,
and chorus of the mystic choir; instrumental scherzo, preluding the
appearance of Mephistopheles; dramatic interlude, in which he engages
to entrap Faust; a vocal scherzo by the chorus of cherubim; and the
Final Psalmody by the penitents on earth and chorus of spirits. The
prologue corresponds to Goethe's prologue in the heavens, the heavenly
choirs being heard in the background of clouds, accompanied by weird
trumpet-peals and flourishes in the orchestra, and closes with a
finale of magnificent power.
The first act opens in the city of Frankfort, amid the noise of the
crowd and the clanging of holiday bells. Groups of students, burghers,
huntsmen, and peasants sing snatches of chorus. A cavalcade escorting
the Elector passes. Faust and Wagner enter, and retire as the peasants
begin to sing and dance a merry waltz rhythm ("Juhé! Juhé!"). As it
dies away they reappear, Faust being continually followed by a gray
friar,--Mephistopheles in disguise,--whose identity is disclosed by a
motive from the prologue. Faust shudders at his presence, but Wagner
laughs away his fears, and the scene then suddenly changes to Faust's
laboratory, whither he has been followed by the gray friar, who
conceals himself in an alcove. Faust sings a beautiful aria ("Dai
campi, dai prati"), and then, placing the Bible on a lectern, begins
to read. The sight of the book brings Mephistopheles out with a
shriek; and, questioned by Faust, he reveals his true self in a
massive and sonorous aria ("Son lo spirito"). He throws off his
disguise, and appears in the garb of a knight, offering to serve Faust
on earth if he will serve the powers of darkness in hell. The compact
is made, as in the first act of Gounod's "Faust;" and the curtain
falls as Faust is about to be whisked away in Mephistopheles's cloak.
The second act opens in the garden, with Faust (under the name of
Henry), Marguerite, Mephistopheles, and Martha, Marguerite's mother,
strolling in couples. The music, which is of a very sensuous
character, is descriptive of the love-making between Faust and
Marguerite, and the sarcastic passion of Mephistopheles for Martha. It
is mostly in duet form, and closes with a quartet allegretto ("Addio,
fuggo"), which is very characteristic. The scene then suddenly changes
to the celebration of the Witches' Sabbath on the summits of the
Brocken, where, amid wild witch choruses, mighty dissonances, and
weird incantation music, Faust is shown a vision of the sorrow of
Marguerite. It would be impossible to select special numbers from this
closely interwoven music, excepting perhaps the song ("Ecco il mondo")
which Mephistopheles sings when the witches, after their incantation,
present him with a globe of glass which he likens to the earth.
The third act opens in a prison, where Marguerite is awaiting the
penalty for murdering her babe. The action is very similar to that of
the last act of Gounod's "Faust." Her opening aria ("L' altra notte a
fondo al maro") is full of sad longings for the child and insane
moanings for mercy. Faust appeals to her to fly with him, and they
join in a duet of extraordinary sensuous beauty blended with pathos
("lontano, lontano"). Mephistopheles urges Faust away as the day
dawns, and pronounces her doom as she falls and dies, while the
angelic chorus resounding in the orchestra announces her salvation.
In the fourth act a most abrupt change is made, both in a dramatic and
musical sense. The scene changes to the "Night of the Classical
Sabbath" on the banks of the Peneus, amid temples, statues, flowers,
and all the loveliness of nature in Greece. The music also changes
into the pure, sensuous Italian style. Faust, still with
Mephistopheles, pays court to Helen of Troy, who is accompanied by
Pantalis. The opening duet for the latter ("La luna immobile") is one
of exceeding grace and loveliness, and will always be the most popular
number in the work. With the exception of a powerfully dramatic scena,
in which Helen describes the horrors of the destruction of Troy, the
music is devoted to the love-making between Helen and Faust, and bears
no relation in form to the rest of the music of the work, being
essentially Italian in its smooth, flowing, melodious character. At
the close of the classical Sabbath another abrupt change is made, to
the death-scene of Faust, contained in an epilogue. It opens in his
laboratory, where he is reflecting upon the events of his
unsatisfactory life, and contemplating a happier existence in heaven.
Mephistopheles is still by his side as the tempter, offers him his
cloak, and urges him to fly again. The heavenly trumpets which rang
through the prologue are again heard, and the celestial choirs are
singing. Enraged, Mephistopheles summons the sirens, who lure Faust
with all their charms. Faust seizes the Sacred Volume, and declares
that he relies upon its word for salvation. He prays for help against
the demon. His prayer is answered; and as he dies a shower of roses
falls upon his body. The tempter disappears, and the finale of the
prologue, repeated, announces Faust has died in salvation. The opera
as a whole is episodical in its dramatic construction, and the music
is a mixture of two styles,--the Wagnerian and the conventional
Italian; but its orchestration is very bold and independent in
character, and the voice-parts are very striking in their adaptation
to the dramatic requirements.
DELIBES.
Leo Delibes, the French composer, was born at St. Germain du Val in
1836, and was graduated at the Paris Conservatory, where he reached
high distinction. His first work, written in 1855, was an operetta
entitled "Deux Sous de Carbon;" but he did not make his mark until his
"Maitre Griffard" was produced at the Theatre Lyrique in 1857. In 1865
he was appointed Chorus-master at the Opera, and there his real career
began. His first great triumph was in ballet-music, which has ever
since been his specialty. His first ballet, "La Source," was produced
at the Opera, Nov. 12, 1865, and delighted all Paris. It was followed
by a divertisement for the revival of Adam's "Corsaire" (1867), the
ballet "Coppelia" (1870), a three-act opera "Le Roi l'a dit" (1873),
and the exquisite ballet in three acts and five tableaux, "Sylvia"
(1876), with which Theodore Thomas has made American audiences
familiar. His opera "Lakme" was written in 1879.
LAKME.
The romantic opera, "Lakme," written in 1879, was first performed in
this country by the American Opera Company in 1886, Mme. L'Allemand
taking the title-rôle. The principal characters are Lakme, daughter of
Nilakantha, an Indian priest, Gerald and Frederick, officers of the
British Army, Ellen and Rose, daughters of the Viceroy, and Mrs.
Benson, governess. The scene is laid in India. Nilakantha cherishes a
fond hatred of all foreigners. The two English officers, Gerald and
Frederick, accompanied by a bevy of ladies, intrude upon his sacred
grounds. They stroll about and gradually retire, but Gerald remains to
sketch some jewels, which Lakme has left upon a shrine while she goes
flower-gathering with her slave Mallika, evidently also to await
developments when she returns. Lakme soon comes sailing in on her
boat, and there is a desperate case of love at first sight. Their
demonstrations of affection are soon interrupted by the appearance of
the priest, whose anger Gerald escapes by fleeing, under cover of a
convenient thunder-storm. In the next act Lakme and her father appear
in the public market-place, disguised as penitents. He compels his
daughter to sing, hoping that her face and voice will induce her lover
to disclose himself. The ruse proves successful. Nilakantha waits his
opportunity, and stealing upon his enemy stabs him in the back and
makes good his escape. In the third act we find Gerald in a delightful
jungle, where Lakme has in some manner managed to conceal him, and
where she is carefully nursing him with the hope of permanently
retaining his love. She saves his life; but just at this juncture, and
while she is absent to obtain a draught of the water which, according
to the Indian legend, will make earthly love eternal, Gerald hears the
music of his regiment, and Frederick appears and urges him back to
duty. His allegiance to his queen, and possibly the remembrance of his
engagement to a young English girl, prove stronger than his love for
Lakme. The latter returns, discovers his faithlessness, gathers some
poisonous flowers, whose juices she drinks, and dies in Gerald's arms
just as the furious father appears. As one victim is sufficient to
appease the anger of Nilakantha's gods, Gerald is allowed to go
unharmed.
The first act opens with a chorus of Hindoos, oriental in its
character, followed by a duet between Lakme and her father; the scene
closing with a sacred chant. The Hindoos gone, there is a charming
oriental duet ("'Neath yon Dome where Jasmines with the Roses are
blooming") between Lakme and her slave, which is one of the gems of
the opera. The English then appear and have a long, talky scene,
relieved by a pretty song for Frederick ("I would not give a Judgment
so absurd"), and another for Gerald ("Cheating Fancy coming to mislead
me"). As Lakme enters, Gerald conceals himself. She lays her flowers
at the base of the shrine and sings a restless love-song ("Why love I
thus to stray?"). Gerald discovers himself, and after a colloquy sings
his ardent love-song ("The God of Truth so glowing"), and the act
closes with Nilakantha's threats.
The second act opens in the market square, lively with the choruses of
Hindoos, Chinamen, fruit-venders, and sailors, and later on with the
adventures of the English party in the crowd. Nilakantha appears and
addresses his daughter in a very pathetic aria ("Lakme, thy soft Looks
are over-clouded"). Soon follows Lakme's bell-song ("Where strays the
Hindoo Maiden?"), a brilliant and highly embellished aria with
tinkling accompaniment, which will always be a favorite. The
recognition follows; and the remaining numbers of importance are an
impassioned song by Gerald ("Ah! then 't is slumbering Love"), with a
mysterious response by Lakme ("In the Forest near at Hand"). A ballet,
followed by the stabbing of Gerald, closes the act.
In the third act the action hastens to the tragic denouement. It opens
with a beautiful crooning song by Lakme ("'Neath the Dome of Moon and
Star") as she watches her sleeping lover. The remaining numbers of
interest are Gerald's song ("Tho' speechless I, my Heart remembers"),
followed by a pretty three-part chorus in the distance and Lakme's
dying measures, "To me the fairest Dream thou 'st given," and
"Farewell, the Dream is over." Though the opera is monotonous from
sameness of color and lack of dramatic interest, there are many
numbers which leave a charming impression by their grace, refinement,
and genuine poetical effect.
DONIZETTI.
Gaetano Donizetti was born at Bergamo, Italy, Sept. 25, 1798. He
studied music both at Bologna and Naples, and then entered the army
rather than subject himself to the caprice of his father, who was
determined that he should devote himself to church music. While his
regiment was at Naples he wrote his first opera, "Enrico di Borgogna"
(1818), which was soon followed by a second, "Il Falegname de
Livonia." The success of the latter was so great that it not only
freed him from military service but gained him the honor of being
crowned. The first opera which spread his reputation through Europe
was "Anna Bolena," produced at Milan in 1830, and written for Pasta
and Rubini. Two years afterwards, "L' Elisir d' Amore" appeared, which
he is said to have written in fifteen days. He wrote with great
facility. "Il Furioso," "Parisina," "Torquato Tasso," "Lucrezia
Borgia," and "Gemma di Vergi" rapidly followed one another. In 1835 he
brought out "Marino Faliero," but its success was small. Ample
compensation was made, however, when in the same year "Lucia" appeared
and was received with acclamations of delight. He was invited to Paris
as the successor of Rossini, and wrote his "Marino Faliero" for the
Theatre des Italiens. In 1840 he revisited Paris and produced "Il
Poliuto," "La Fille du Regiment," and "La Favorita." Leaving Paris he
visited Rome, Milan, and Vienna, bringing out "Linda di Chamouni" in
the latter city. Returning to Paris again, he produced "Don Pasquale"
at the Théâtre des Italiens and "Don Sebastien" at the Académie, the
latter proving a failure. His last opera, "Catarina Comaro," was
brought out at Naples in 1844. This work also was a failure. It was
evident that his capacity for work was over. He grew sad and
melancholy, and during the last three years of his life was attacked
by fits of abstraction which gradually intensified and ended in
insanity and physical paralysis. He died at Bergamo, April 8, 1848.
THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT.
"The Daughter of the Regiment" ("La Fille du Regiment") opera comique
in two acts, words by Bayard and St. Georges, was first produced at
the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 11, 1840, with Mme. Anna Thillon in the
rôle of Marie. Its first performance in English was at the Surrey
Theatre, London, Dec. 21, 1847, under the title of "The Daughter of
the Regiment," in which form it is best known in this country. In 1847
it was performed as an Italian opera in London, with added
recitatives, and with Jenny Lind in the leading part.
The music of the opera is light and sparkling, the principal interest
centring in the charming nature of the story and its humorous
situations, which afford capital opportunities for comedy acting. The
scene is laid in the Tyrol during its occupation by the French. Marie,
the heroine, and the vivandière of the Twenty-first regiment of
Napoleon's army, was adopted as the Daughter of the Regiment, because
she was found on the field, after a battle, by Sergeant Sulpice. On
her person was affixed a letter written by her father to the
Marchioness of Berkenfeld, which has been carefully preserved by the
Sergeant. At the beginning of the opera the little waif has grown into
a sprightly young woman, full of mischief and spirit, as is shown by
her opening song ("The Camp was my Birthplace"), in which she tells
the story of her life, and by the duet with Sulpice, known the world
over as "The Rataplan," which is of a very animated, stirring, and
martial character, to the accompaniment of rattling drums and sonorous
brasses. She is the special admiration of Tony, a Tyrolean peasant,
who has saved her from falling over a precipice. The soldiers of the
regiment are profuse in their gratitude to her deliverer, and
celebrate her rescue with ample potations, during which Marie sings
the Song of the Regiment ("All Men confess it"). Poor Tony, however,
who was found strolling in the camp, is placed under arrest as a spy,
though he succeeds in obtaining an interview with Marie and declares
his love for her. The declaration is followed by a charming duet ("No
longer can I doubt it"). Tony manages to clear up his record, and the
soldiers decide that he may have Marie's hand if he will consent to
join them. He blithely accepts the condition and dons the French
cockade. Everything seems auspicious, when suddenly the Marchioness of
Berkenfeld appears and dashes Tony's hopes to the ground. The
Sergeant, as in honor bound, delivers the letter he has been
preserving. After reading it she claims Marie as her niece, and
demands that the regiment shall give up its daughter, while Tony is
incontinently dismissed as an unsuitable person to be connected in any
capacity with her noble family. Marie sings a touching adieu to her
comrades ("Farewell, a long Farewell"), and the act closes with
smothered imprecations on the Marchioness by the soldiers, and
protestations of undying love by Tony.
The second act opens in the castle of Berkenfeld, where Marie is duly
installed, though she does not take very kindly to her change of
surroundings. The old Sergeant is with her. Grand company is expected,
and the Marchioness desires Marie to rehearse a romance ("The Light of
Early Days was breaking"), which she is to sing to them.
Before she finishes it she and the Sergeant break out into the
rollicking Rataplan and go through with the military evolutions, to
the horror of the Marchioness. While regret for the absent Tony keeps
her in a sad mood, she is suddenly cheered up by the sound of drums
and fifes, announcing the approach of soldiers. They are the gallant
Twenty-first, with Tony, now a colonel, at their head. He applies once
more for Marie's hand. The soldiers also put in a spirited choral
appeal ("We have come, our Child to free"). The Marchioness again
refuses. Tony proposes an elopement, to which Marie, in resentment at
her aunt's cruelty, consents. To thwart their plans, the Marchioness
reveals to Marie that early in life she had been secretly married to
an officer of lower family position than her own, and that this
officer was Marie's father. Unable to dispute the wishes of her
mother, she renounces Tony in an agony of grief. At last Marie's
sorrow arouses old associations in the mind of the Marchioness, and
she consents to the union of Tony and Marie.
While the music of the opera is light, it is none the less very
attractive, and the work is nearly always popular when performed by
good artists, owing to the comedy strength of the three leading parts,
Marie, Tony, and the Sergeant. The rôle of the heroine, small as it
is, has always been a favorite one with such great artists as Jenny
Lind, Patti, Sontag, and Albani, while in this country Miss Kellogg
and Mrs. Richings-Bernard made great successes in the part. The latter
singer, indeed, and her father, whose personation of the Sergeant was
very remarkable, were among the first to perform the work in the
United States.
LA FAVORITA.
"La Favorita," an opera in four acts, words by Royer and Waëtz, the
subject taken from the French drama, "Le Comte de Commingues," was
first produced at the Académie, Paris, Dec. 2, 1840, with Mme. Stolz
as Leonora, Duprez as Fernando, and Baroelhst as Balthasar. Its
success in England, where it was first produced Feb. 16, 1847, was
made by Grisi and Mario. The scene of the opera is laid in Spain, and
the first act opens in the convent of St. James, of Compostella, where
the young novice, Fernando, is about to take monastic vows. Before the
rites take place he is seized with a sudden passion for Leonora, a
beautiful maiden who has been worshipping in the cloisters. He
confesses his love to Balthasar, the superior, who orders him to leave
the convent and go out into the world. Leonora, meanwhile, is beloved
by Alphonso, king of Castile, who has provided her a secret retreat on
the island of St. Leon. Though threatened by the pontiff with
excommunication, he has resolved to repudiate his queen, in order that
he may carry out his intention of marrying the beautiful Leonora. To
her asylum a bevy of maidens conducts Fernando. He declares his
passion for her and finds it reciprocated. He urges her to fly with
him, but she declares it impossible, and giving him a commission in
the army signed by the King, urges him to go to the wars and win
honors for her sake.
In the second act Balthasar, in the name of the pontiff, visits their
retreat and pronounces the papal anathema upon the guilty pair. The
same curse is threatened to all the attendants unless Leonora is
driven from the King, and the act closes with their vengeful menaces.
In the third act Fernando returns victorious from the war with the
Moors. Already beginning to fear the result of the papal malediction,
and having learned of Leonora's passion for the victor, Alphonso heaps
rewards upon him, even to the extent of giving him Leonora's hand.
Fernando, who is ignorant of her past relations to the King, eagerly
accepts the proffer; but Leonora, in despair, sends her attendant,
Inez, to inform him of the real nature of the situation and implore
his forgiveness. The King intercepts her, and the marriage takes place
at once, Fernando not discovering Leonora's shame until it is revealed
by the courtiers, who avoid him. He flies from the world to the
convent once more for shelter and consolation, followed by Leonora,
who dies in his arms after she has obtained forgiveness.
The music of the work is very dramatic in its character, some of the
finales being the strongest Donizetti has written. In the first act
there is a beautifully melodious aria ("Una Vergine"), in which
Fernando describes to Balthasar the vision of Leonora which had
appeared to him at his orisons, and a very tender duet ("Deh, vanne!
deh, parti") between Fernando and Leonora, in which they sorrowfully
part from each other. In the second act the King has a very passionate
aria, where he curses his courtiers for leaguing against him at Rome,
followed by a very dramatic duet with Leonora ("Ah! l'alto ardor").
The third act contains the beautiful aria, "O mio Fernando!" which is
a favorite with all contraltos. It is remarkable for its warmth and
richness, as well as its dramatic spirit, and the act closes with a
concerted finale of splendid power, in which Fernando breaks his
sword, and once more Balthasar anathematizes the King. The fourth act
is the most beautiful of all in its music and the most powerful in
dramatic effect. The chorus of monks in the first scene ("Scaviam
l'asilo") is remarkable for its religious character and solemnity. In
the third scene occurs one of the tenderest and loveliest romanzas
ever written ("Spirto gentil"), which Donizetti transferred to this
work from his opera, "Le Duc d'Albe," which had not been performed,
and the libretto of which was originally written by Scribe for
Rossini. The closing duet between Fernando and Leonora is full of
pathos and beauty, and forms a fitting close to an act which, in one
sense at least, is an inspiration, as the whole act was composed in
four hours,--a proof of the marvellous ease and facility with which
Donizetti wrote.
DON PASQUALE.
"Don Pasquale," an opera buffa in three acts, was first produced at
the Théâtre des Italiens in Paris, Jan. 4, 1843, with the following
extraordinary cast:
NORINA Mme. GRISI.
ERNESTO Sig. MARIO.
DR. MALATESTA Sig. TAMBURINI.
DON PASQUALE Sig. LABLACHE.
The scene of this brilliant and gay little opera is laid in Rome. Don
Pasquale is in a rage with Ernesto, his nephew, because he will not
marry to suit him. Dr. Malatesta, his friend and physician, who is
also very much attached to the nephew, contrives a plot in the
latter's interest. He visits the Don, and urges him to marry a lady,
pretending that she is his sister, though in reality she is Norina,
with whom Ernesto is in love. He then calls upon Norina, and lets her
into the secret of the plot, and instructs her how to play her part.
She is to consent to the marriage contract, and then so harass the Don
that he will not only be glad to get rid of her, but will give his
consent to her marriage with Ernesto. The second act opens in Don
Pasquale's house, where Ernesto is bewailing his fate. The Don enters,
magnificently dressed, and ready for the marriage. Norina appears with
Malatesta, and feigns reluctance to enter into the contract; but when
the notary arrives she consents to sign. No sooner, however, has she
signed it than she drops her assumed modesty. Ernesto, who is present,
is bewildered at the condition of affairs, but is kept quiet by a sign
from the Doctor. Norina refuses all the Don's amatory demonstrations,
and declares Ernesto shall be her escort. She summons the servants,
and lays out a scheme of housekeeping so extravagant that the Don is
enraged, and declares he will not pay the bills. She insists he shall,
for she is now master of the house. In the third act we find Norina
entertaining milliners and modistes. Don Pasquale enters, and learning
that she is going to the theatre forbids it, which leads to a quarrel,
during which Norina boxes his ears. As she leaves the room she drops a
letter, the reading of which adds the pangs of jealousy to his other
troubles. The Doctor at this juncture happens in and condoles with
him. The Don insists that Norina shall quit his house at once. In the
next scene he taxes her with having a lover concealed in the house,
and orders her to leave. The Doctor counsels him to let his nephew
marry Norina; and in the course of explanations the Don discovers that
the Doctor's sister and Norina are one and the same person, and that
the marriage was a sham. He is only too glad of an escape to quarrel
with the Doctor for his plot, and the young couple are speedily
united, and have the old man's blessing.
The charm of the opera lies in its comic situations, and the gay,
bright music with which they are illustrated. It is replete with humor
and spirit, and flows along in such a bright stream that it is almost
impossible to cull out special numbers, though it contains two duets
and a quartet which are of more than ordinary beauty, and the
exquisite serenade in the last act, "Com'e gentil," which has been
heard on almost every concert-stage of the world, and still holds its
place in universal popular esteem. For brilliant gayety it stands in
the front rank of all comic operas, though Donizetti was but three
weeks in writing it. It is said that when it was in rehearsal its fate
was uncertain. The orchestra and singers received it very coldly; but
when the rehearsal was over, Donizetti merely shrugged his shoulders
and remarked to his friend, M. Dormoy, the publisher: "Let them alone;
they know nothing about it. I know what is the matter with 'Don
Pasquale.' Come with me." They went to the composer's house. Rummaging
among a pile of manuscripts, Donizetti pulled out a song. "This is
what 'Don Pasquale' wants," he said. "Take it to Mario and tell him to
learn it at once." Mario obeyed, and when the opera was performed sang
it to the accompaniment of a tambourine, which Lablache played behind
the scenes. The opera was a success at once, and no song has ever been
more popular.
In strange contrast with the gay humor of "Don Pasquale," it may be
stated that in the same year Donizetti wrote the mournful "Don
Sebastian," which has been described as "a funeral in five acts."
Crowest, in his "Anecdotes," declares that the serenade is suggestive
of Highland music, and that many of his other operas are Scottish in
color. He accounts for this upon the theory that the composer was of
Scotch descent, his grandfather having been a native of Perthshire, by
the name of Izett, and that his father, who married an Italian lady,
was Donald Izett. The change from Donald Izett to Donizetti was an
easy one. The story, however, is of doubtful authenticity.
LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.
"Lucia di Lammermoor," an opera in three acts, words by Cammarano, was
first produced at Naples in 1835, with Mme. Persiani and Sig. Duprez,
for whom the work was written, in the principal rôles of Lucia and
Edgardo. Its first presentation at Paris was Aug. 10, 1839; in London,
April 5, 1838; and in English, at the Princess Theatre, London, Jan.
19, 1843. The subject of the opera is taken from Sir Walter Scott's
novel, "The Bride of Lammermoor," and the scene is laid in Scotland,
time, about 1669.
Sir Henry Ashton, of Lammermoor, brother of Lucy, the heroine, has
arranged a marriage between her and Lord Arthur Bucklaw, in order to
recover the fortune which he has dissipated, and to save himself from
political peril he has incurred by his participation in movements
against the reigning dynasty. Sir Edgar Ravenswood, with whom he is at
enmity, is deeply attached to Lucy, who reciprocates his love, and on
the eve of his departure on an embassy to France pledges herself to
him. During his absence Edgar's letters are intercepted by her
brother, who hints to her of his infidelity, and finally shows her a
forged paper which she accepts as the proof that he is untrue.
Overcome with grief at her lover's supposed unfaithfulness, and
yielding to the pressure of her brother's necessities, she at last
consents to her union with Lord Arthur. The marriage contract is
signed with great ceremony, and just as she has placed her name to the
fatal paper, Edgar suddenly appears. Learning from Lucy what she has
done, he tramples the contract under foot, hurls an imprecation upon
the house of Lammermoor, and bursts out of the room in a terrible
rage. Sir Henry follows him, and a fierce quarrel ensues, which ends
in a challenge. Meanwhile, at night, after the newly wedded couple
have retired, a noise is heard in their apartment. The attendants rush
in and find Lord Arthur dying from wounds inflicted by Lucy, whose
grief has made her insane. When she returns to reason, the thought of
what she has done and the horror of her situation overcome her, and
shortly death puts an end to her wretchedness. Ignorant of her fate,
Edgar goes to the churchyard of Ravenswood, which has been selected as
the rendezvous for the duel with Sir Henry. While impatiently waiting
his appearance, the bell of the castle tolls, and some of the
attendants accosting him bring the news of her death. The despairing
lover kills himself among the graves of his ancestors, and the sombre
story ends.
The popular verdict has stamped "Lucia" as Donizetti's masterpiece,
and if the consensus of musicians could be obtained, it would
unquestionably confirm the verdict. It contains incomparably the
grandest of his arias for tenor, the Tomb song in the last act, and
one of the finest dramatic concerted numbers, the sextet in the second
act, that can be found in any Italian opera. Like the quartet in
"Rigoletto," it stands out in such bold relief, and is so thoroughly
original and spontaneous, that it may be classed as an inspiration.
The music throughout is of the most sombre character. It does not
contain a joyous phrase. And yet it can never be charged with
monotony. Every aria, though its tone is serious and more often
melancholy, has its own characteristics, and the climaxes are worked
up with great power. In the first act, for instance, the contrasts are
very marked between Henry's aria ("Cruda, funesta smania"), the chorus
of hunters ("Come vinti da stanchezza"), Henry's second aria ("La
pietade in suo favore"), in which he threatens vengeance upon Edgar,
the dramatic and beautifully written arias for Lucy, "Regnava nel
silenzio" and "Quando rapita in estasi," and the passionate farewell
duet between Lucy and Edgar, which is the very ecstasy of commingled
love and sorrow. The second act contains a powerful duet ("Le tradirmi
tu potrai") between Lucy and Henry; but the musical interest of the
act centres in the great sextet, "Chi mi frena," which ensues when
Edgar makes his unexpected appearance upon the scene of the marriage
contract. For beauty, power, richness of melody and dramatic
expression, few concerted numbers by any composer can rival it. The
last act also contains two numbers which are always the delight of
great artists,--the mad song of Lucy, "Oh, gioja che si senti," and
the magnificent tomb scena, "Tomba degl'avi miei," which affords even
the most accomplished tenor ample scope for his highest powers.
L'ELISIR D'AMORE.
"L'Elisir d'Amore," an opera buffa in two acts, words by Romani, was
first produced in Milan, in 1832, and in English, at Drury Lane, in
1839, as "The Love Spell." The heroine of this graceful little opera
is Adina, a capricious country girl, who is loved by Nemorino, a young
farmer, whose uncle lies at the point of death, and by Belcore, a
sergeant, whose troops are billeted upon the neighboring village.
While Adina keeps both these suitors in suspense, Dr. Dulcamara, a
travelling quack, arrives at the village in great state to vend his
nostrums. Nemorino applies to him for a bottle of the Elixir of
Love,--with the magical properties of which he has become acquainted
in a romance Adina has been reading that very morning. The mountebank,
of course, has no such liquid, but he passes off on the simple peasant
a bottle of wine, and assures him that if he drinks of it he can
command the love of any one on the morrow. To thoroughly test its
efficacy, Nemorino drinks the whole of it. When he encounters Adina he
is half tipsy, and accosts her in such disrespectful style that she
becomes enraged, and determines to give her hand to the sergeant, and
promises to marry him in a week. Meanwhile an order comes for the
departure of the sergeant's detachment, and he begs her to marry him
the same day. She gives her consent, and the second act opens with the
assembling of the villagers to witness the signing of the marriage
contract. While the sergeant, Adina, and the notary have retired to
sign and witness the contract, Nemorino enters in despair, and finding
Dulcamara enjoying a repast, he implores him to give him some charm
that will make Adina love him at once. Having no money, the quack
refuses to assist him, and Nemorino is again plunged into despair. At
this juncture the sergeant enters, not in the best of humor, for Adina
has declined to sign the contract until evening. Discovering that
Nemorino wants money, he urges him to enlist. The bonus of twenty
crowns is a temptation. Nemorino enlists, takes the money, hurries to
the quack, and obtains a second bottle of the elixir, which is much
more powerful than the first. In the next scene the girls of the
village have discovered that Nemorino's uncle has died and left him
all the property, though Nemorino himself has not heard of it. They
crowd about him, trying to attract his attention with their charms and
blandishments. He attributes his sudden popularity to the effects of
the elixir, and even the quack is somewhat bewildered at the
remarkable change. Nemorino now determines to pay Adina off in kind,
and at last rouses her jealousy. Meanwhile Dulcamara acquaints her
with the effects of the elixir and advises her to try some of it, and
during the interview inadvertently informs her of Nemorino's
attachment for her. Struck with his devotion, she repays the sergeant
herself, announces her change of mind, and bestows her hand upon the
faithful Nemorino. Like "Don Pasquale," the opera is exceedingly
graceful in its construction, and very bright and gay in its musical
effects, particularly in the duets, of which there are two,--one
between Dulcamara and Nemorino in the first act ("Obbligato, ah! si
obbligato"), and one between Dulcamara and Adina in the second act
("Quanto amore! ed io spietata"), which are charming in their spirit
and humor. There is also an admirable buffo song in the first act,
beginning with the recitative, "Udite, udite, o rustici," in which the
Doctor describes his wares to the rustics, and a beautiful romanza in
the second act for tenor ("Una furtiva lagrima"), which is of
world-wide popularity, and bears the same relation to the general
setting of the work that the Serenade does to "Don Pasquale."
LUCREZIA BORGIA.
"Lucrezia Borgia," an opera in three acts, words by Romani, was first
produced at La Scala, Milan, in 1834. The subject was taken from
Victor Hugo's tragedy of the same name, and its text was freely
adapted by Romani. When it was produced in Paris, in 1840, Victor Hugo
took steps to suppress any further representations. The libretto was
then rewritten, under the title of "La Rinegata," the Italian
characters were changed to Turks, and in this mutilated form the
performances were resumed. It was in this opera that Signor Mario made
his English début, in 1839, with great success. Its first presentation
in English was at London, Dec. 30, 1843.
The history of Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Rodrigo Borgia, afterwards
Pope Alexander VI., and sister of Cæsar Borgia, is too well known to
need recapitulation. It is necessary to the comprehension of the story
of the opera, however, to state that she had an illegitimate son,
named Genarro, who was left when an infant with a fisherman, but who
subsequently entered the Venetian army and rose to an eminent rank.
The opera opens with a brilliant festival in the gardens of the
Barberigo Palace, which is attended by Genarro, Orsini, and others,
all of them cordial haters of the detestable Borgias. While they are
telling tales of Lucrezia's cruel deeds, Genarro lies down and goes to
sleep, and Orsini in a spirited aria ("Nelle fatal di Rimini") relates
to his companions the story of Genarro's gallantry at the battle of
Rimini. As they leave, Lucrezia approaches, masked, in a gondola, and
is received by Gubetta, with whom she has come to Venice on some
secret errand. She discovers Genarro asleep, and expresses her delight
at his beauty, and at the same time her maternal love, in a brilliant
aria ("Com'e bello"). As she kisses his hand he wakes, and in the duet
which follows tells her the story of his early life in an exquisite
romanza ("Di pescatore ignobile"), which is one of the most familiar
numbers in Italian opera. He begs her to reveal her name, but she
refuses. As he continues to implore her, his friends return and
denounce her to Genarro as the hated Borgia, in a concerted number
("Chi siam noi sol chiarirla") of great dramatic power, which closes
the first act.
The second act opens in the public square of Ferrara, with the palace
of the Borgias on the right. The Duke Alphonso, Lucrezia's husband,
who has been observant of Lucrezia's attachment to Genarro, vows
vengeance in a passionate aria ("Vieni la mia vendetta"). In the next
scene Genarro, who has been taunted by his friends with being a victim
of Lucrezia's fascinations, recklessly rushes up to the palace door
and strikes off the first letter of her name with his dagger. When
Lucrezia discovers the insult, she demands of the Duke that the guilty
person shall be arrested and condemned to death. The Duke has already
seized Genarro, and agrees to carry out his wife's demands. When the
prisoner is brought before them for judgment, she is horror-stricken
to find he is her son. She implores his life, but the infuriated Duke
retaliates upon her with the declaration that she is his paramour. The
duet between them ("O! a te bada"), in which Lucrezia passes from
humble entreaties to rage and menace, is a fine instance of
Donizetti's dramatic power. The Duke, however, is resolute in his
determination, and will only allow her to choose the mode of Genarro's
death. She selects the Borgia wine, which is poisoned. Genarro is
called in, and after a trio ("Le ti tradisce"), which is one of the
strongest numbers in the opera, he is given the fatal draught under
the pretence of a farewell greeting from the Duke, who then leaves
mother and son together. She gives him an antidote, and he is thus
saved from the fate which the Duke had intended for him.
The last act opens at a banquet in the palace of the Princess Negroni,
which is attended by Genarro and his friends, Lucrezia, meanwhile,
supposing that he has gone to Venice. During the repast she has
managed to poison their wine. In the midst of the gay revel Orsini
sings the popular drinking-song, "Il segreto per esser felici," which
is now familiar the world over. The festivities are interrupted,
however, by the appearance of Lucrezia, who reveals herself with the
taunting declaration: "Yes, I am Borgia. A mournful dance ye gave me
in Venice, and I return ye a supper in Ferrara." She then announces
that they are poisoned. The music is changed with great skill from the
wild revelry of drinking-songs to the sombre strains of approaching
death. Five coffins are shown them, when Genarro suddenly reveals
himself to Lucrezia and asks for the sixth. The horror-stricken woman
again perceives that her son has been poisoned by her own hand. As his
companions leave the apartment she implores Genarro to take the
antidote once more, and at last reveals herself as his mother. He
steadily refuses to save himself, however, since his companions have
to die, and expires in her arms just as the Duke and his followers
enter. She discloses Genarro's relationship, and then dies with the
despairing cry on her lips that Heaven has pronounced its final
judgment upon her. Among all of Donizetti's operas, not one, unless it
be "Lucia," is more popular than "Lucrezia Borgia," which may be
attributed to the fact that while the story itself is one of
fascinating dramatic interest, the musical numbers are simple,
beautiful, and effective.
FLOTOW.
Friedrich von Flotow was born April 27, 1812, in the duchy of
Mecklenberg-Schwerin, and in 1827 went to Paris, where he studied
music under Reicha. His first work was "Stradella," a mere sketch in
its original form, which was brought out at the Palais Royal in 1837;
but his first public success was made in 1839, with his opera, "Le
Naufrage de la Méduse," which had a run, and was afterwards produced
in Germany under the title of "Die Matrosen." "L'Esclave de Camoens"
appeared in Paris in 1843; "Stradella," rewritten as an opera, in
Hamburg (1844); "L'Âme en peine," in Paris (1846); "Martha," in Vienna
(1847). The works of his later period, which never equalled his
earlier ones in popularity, were "Die Grossfürstin" (1850); "Indra"
(1853); "Rubezahl" (1854); "Hilda" (1855); "Der Müller von Meran"
(1856); "La Veuve Grapin" (1859); "L'Ombre" (1869); "Naïda" (1873);
"Il Flor d'Harlem" (1876); and "Enchanteresse" (1878). Of these later
works, "L'Ombre" was the most successful, and was received with favor
in France, Italy, Spain, and England, in which latter country it was
performed under the title of "The Phantom." In 1856 he received the
appointment of Intendant of the theatre of the Grand Duke of
Mecklenberg, and he entered upon his duties with high hopes of making
the theatre exercise the same influence upon music in Germany as the
Weimar stage; but court intrigues and rivalries of artists so
disgusted him that he resigned in 1863 and went to Paris, and a few
years later to Vienna, where he took up his abode. Outside of a few of
his operas his works are little known, though he composed a
"Fackeltanz," some incidental music to the "Winter's Tale" of
Shakspeare, and several overtures, songs, and chamber-pieces. An
interesting episode in his career occurred in 1838, when he brought
out an opera in three acts, the "Duc de Guise," at the Théâtre de la
Renaissance, the libretto based upon Dumas's "Henri III." The
performance was organized by the Princess Czartoryska, for the benefit
of the Poles. Mme. de Lagrange made her début in a leading part, and
the parts of the choristers were filled by duchesses and princesses of
the Faubourg St. Germain, upon whose persons two million dollars worth
of diamonds were blazing,--sufficient evidence that the performance
was brilliant in at least one sense. He died at Wiesbaden, Jan. 24,
1883.
MARTHA.
"Martha," an opera in three acts, libretto by St. Georges, translated
into German by Friedrich, was first produced at Vienna, Nov. 25, 1847,
with Mlle. Anna Zerr in the title-rôle, Herr Ander as Lionel, and Carl
Formes as Plunkett. It was first produced in English and Italian at
London in 1858, and in French at Paris in 1865. The history of its
origin is interesting. M. de St. Georges, at the request of the
manager of the Paris Grand Opera, wrote in 1842 the libretto to a
ballet entitled "Lady Henrietta, or the Servant of Greenwich," the
subject being suggested to him by the adventures of two ladies of his
acquaintance who had mingled with servants at a fair. The music was
confided to three composers. The first act was given to Herr von
Flotow, the second to Herr Burgmuller, and the third to M. Deldeves.
The ballet had such a remarkable success, and Flotow was so delighted
with the plot, that he entreated St. Georges to rewrite it for an
opera. The latter consented, and the result of their collaboration was
the appearance of one of the most popular operas which has ever been
placed upon the stage.
The scene of the opera is laid at Richmond, England, and the time is
during the reign of Queen Anne, though the Italian version places it
in the fifteenth century, and the French in the nineteenth. Lady
Henrietta, an attendant upon the Queen, tired of the amusements of
court life, contrives a plan to visit the servants' fair at Richmond
disguised as a servant-girl, and accompanied by Nancy, her maid, and
Sir Tristan, her somewhat aged cousin, who is also her devoted
admirer. In the first three scenes their plans are laid much to the
disgust of Sir Tristan, who is to pass as John, while his fair cousin
masquerades as Martha. The duet between the ladies ("Of the Knights so
brave and charming"), and the trio with Tristan, are in dance time,
and full of animation. The fourth scene opens in the market-place at
Richmond, where the people are gathering to the fair. Thither also
resort Plunkett, a farmer, and Lionel, his brother by adoption, whose
parentage is unknown, and who has no souvenir of his father except a
ring which has been left for him, with instructions to present it to
the Queen if he ever finds himself in trouble. Lionel tells his story
in an aria ("Lost, proscribed, an humble Stranger") which is
universally popular, and the melody of which has been set to various
words. They have come to the fair to procure help for their farm.
While the sheriff, according to law, is binding the girls for a year's
service, Plunkett and Lionel meet Martha and Nancy, and are so
delighted with their appearance that they tender them the customary
bonus, or "earnest-money," which secures them. Too late for escape,
they find that they are actually engaged, and they are obliged to
drive away with the young farmers, leaving Sir Tristan in despair.
The second act opens in the farm-house, where the four have arrived.
The farmers inquire their names, and seek to find out what they can
do, testing them first at the spinning-wheel. The spinning quartet
("When the Foot the Wheel turns lightly") is very gay and full of
humor, and is one of the most delightful concerted numbers in the
opera. The brothers soon find that their new servants are useless, but
they are so pleased with them that they decide to keep them. At last
Nancy, in a pet, kicks her wheel over and runs off, followed by
Plunkett. Lionel, left alone with Martha, grows very tender to the new
servant, and at last finds himself violently in love. He snatches a
rose from her bosom, and refuses to return it unless she will consent
to sing. She replies with the familiar ballad, "'Tis the last Rose of
Summer," which Flotow has interpolated in this scene, and in the
performance of which he makes a charming effect by introducing the
tenor in the close. Her singing only makes him the more desperately
enamoured, and he asks her to be his wife on the spot, only to find
himself the victim of Martha's sport, although his devotion and
sincerity have made a deep impression upon her. Plunkett and Nancy at
last return, and another charming quartet follows ("Midnight sounds"),
better known as the "Good Night Quartet." The two brothers retire, but
Martha and Nancy, aided by Tristan, who has followed them and
discovered their whereabouts, make good their escape. The next scene
opens in the woods, where several farmers are drinking and carousing,
among them Plunkett, who sings a rollicking drinking-song ("I want to
ask you"). Their sport is interrupted by a hunting-party, composed of
the Queen and her court ladies. Plunkett and Lionel recognize their
fugitive servants among them, though the ladies disclaim all knowledge
of them. Plunkett attempts to seize Nancy, but the huntresses attack
him and chase him away, leaving Lionel and Lady Henrietta together
again. The scene contains two of the most beautiful numbers in the
opera,--the tenor solo, "Like a Dream bright and fair" ("M' appari" in
the Italian version), and a romance for soprano ("Here in deepest
forest Shadows"); and the act closes with a beautiful concerted
finale, quintet and chorus, which is worked up with great power. In
this finale the despairing Lionel bethinks him of his ring. He gives
it to Plunkett, desiring him to present it to the Queen. By means of
the jewel it is discovered that he is the only son of the late Earl of
Derby, and she orders his estates, of which he has been unjustly
deprived, to be restored to him.
The last act is not important in a musical sense, for the climax is
attained in the previous finale. The dramatic dénouement is soon
reached, and the Lady Henrietta, who has for some time been seriously
in love with Lionel, is at last united to him; and it is almost
needless to add that the fortunes of Plunkett and Nancy are also
joined. The charm of "Martha" is its liveliness in action and
tunefulness in music. Though not a great opera from a musical point of
view, it is one of the most popular in the modern repertory, and
though few others have been performed so many times, it still retains
that popularity. Its melodies, though sung in every country of the
civilized world by amateurs and professional artists, have not yet
lost their charms.
STRADELLA.
"Stradella," a romantic opera in three acts, was first written as a
lyric drama and produced at the Palais Royal Theatre, Paris, in 1837,
and was subsequently rewritten in its present form under the title of
"Alessandro Stradella" and produced at Hamburg, Dec. 30, 1844. The
English version, which was somewhat altered by Bunn, was produced in
London, June 6, 1846. The story follows the historic narrative of
Stradella, the Italian musician, except in the dénouement. Stradella
woos and wins Leonora, the fair ward of Bassi, a rich Venetian
nobleman, with whom the latter is himself in love. They fly to Rome
and are married. Bassi hires two bravoes, Barbarino and Malvolio, to
follow them and kill Stradella. They track him to his house, and while
the bridal party are absent enter and conceal themselves, Bassi being
with them. Upon this occasion, however, they do not wait to accomplish
their purpose. Subsequently they gain admission again in the guise of
pilgrims, and are hospitably received by Stradella. In the next scene
Stradella, Leonora, and the two bravoes are together in the same
apartment, singing the praises of their native Italy. During their
laudations the chorus of a band of pilgrims on their way to the shrine
of the Virgin is heard, and Leonora and Stradella go out to greet
them. The bravoes have been so moved by Stradella's singing that they
hesitate in their purpose. Bassi enters and upbraids them, and
finally, by the proffer of a still larger sum, induces them to consent
to carry out his design. They conceal themselves. Stradella returns
and rehearses a hymn to the Virgin which he is to sing at the
festivities on the morrow. Its exquisite beauty touches them so deeply
that they rush out of their hiding-place, and falling at his feet
confess the object of their visit and implore his forgiveness. Leonora
enters, and is astonished to find her guardian present. Explanations
follow, a reconciliation is effected, and the lovers are happy. The
dénouement differs from the historical story, which, according to
Bonnet, Bourdelot, and others, ends with the death of the lovers at
Genoa, at the hands of the hired assassins.
The opera is one of the most charming of Flotow's works for its apt
union of very melodious music with dramatic interest. Its most
beautiful numbers are Stradella's serenade ("Horch, Liebchen,
horch!"), the following nocturne ("Durch die Thäler, über Hügel"), the
brilliant and animated carnival chorus ("Freudesausen, Jubelbrausen")
of the masqueraders who assist in the elopement, in the first act; the
aria of Leonora in her bridal chamber ("Seid meiner Wonne"), the
rollicking drinking-song of the two bravoes ("'Raus mit dem Nass aus
dem Fass") and the bandit ballad ("Tief in den Abruzzen ") sung by
Stradella, in the second act; an exquisite terzetto ("Sag doch an,
Freund Barbarino") sung by Bassi and the two bravoes when they
hesitate to perform their work, and Stradella's lovely hymn to the
Virgin ("Jungfrau Maria! Himmlisch verklärte"), in the last act.
GLUCK.
Christoph Willibald Gluck, one of the most eminent of German operatic
composers, was born at Weidenwang in the Upper Palatinate, July 2,
1714. He began his musical studies in a Bohemian Jesuits' School at
the age of twelve. In his eighteenth year he went to Prague, where he
continued his education with Czernhorsky. Four years later he was
fortunate enough to secure Prince Melzi for a patron, who sent him to
Milan, where he completed his studies with Sammartini. From 1741 to
1745 he produced numerous operas, which were well received, and in the
latter year visited London, where he brought out several works, among
them "La Caduta de' Giganti." His English experience was far from
satisfactory, and he soon returned to Germany, stopping at Paris on
the way, where Rameau's operas had a strong influence upon him. From
1746 to 1762 he wrote a large number of operas, with varying success
so far as performance was concerned, but with great and lasting
benefit to his style and fame, as was shown when his "Orpheus" was
first produced, Oct. 5, 1762. Its success determined him at once to
acquaint the musical world with his purpose to reform the opera by
making it dramatically musical instead of purely lyric, thus paving
the way for the great innovator of Baireuth. "Alceste," produced in
1767, was the first embodiment of these ideas. Strong criticism
greeted it, to which he replied with "Iphigénie en Aulide," written in
1772, and performed for the first time in Paris two years later, under
the auspices of Marie Antoinette, who had once been his pupil. It was
followed by "Orpheus and Eurydice," adapted from his earlier work of
the same name, which met with brilliant success. In 1777 he brought
out "Armide." It aroused an unprecedented excitement. Piccini was at
that time in Paris. He was the representative of the old Italian
school. His partisans gathered about him, and a furious war was waged
between the Gluckists and Piccinists for three or four years; the
combatants displaying a bitterness of criticism and invective even
worse than that which Wagner brought down upon his devoted head. When
Gluck brought out his great work, "Iphigénie en Tauride," in 1779,
however, the Piccinists quitted the field and acknowledged the
reformer's superiority. "Echo et Narcisse" was written in the same
year, but "Iphigénie en Tauride" was his last great work. He retired
shortly afterwards to Vienna, where he died Nov. 15, 1787.
ORPHEUS.
"Orpheus," the libretto by the Italian poet Calzabigi, was first
produced at Vienna, Oct. 5, 1762, and for the first time outlined the
new ideas which Gluck had advanced for the reform of the lyric stage.
Twelve years later the composer revised the work. Several new numbers
were added, its acts were extended to three, and the principal rôle
was rewritten for a high tenor in place of the alto, to whom it had
been originally assigned. In this form it was brought out at the Paris
Académie, Aug. 2, 1774. In 1859 it was revived in Paris, for which
occasion Berlioz restored the original alto part for Mme.
Viardot-Garcia. With its performances in this country by the American
Opera Troupe during the season of 1885-86, under the direction of Mr.
Theodore Thomas, our readers are already familiar. The three soloists
during that season were Helene Hastreiter, Emma Juch, and Minnie
Dilthey.
The story, except in its denouement, closely follows the antique
legend. After performing the funeral rites of Eurydice, Orpheus
resolves to seek for her in the world of Shades, having received
permission from Zeus upon condition that he will not look upon her
until they have safely returned. Orpheus descends to Hades; and though
his way is barred by phantoms, his pleading appeals and the tender
tones of his harp induce them to make way for him. He finds Eurydice
in the Elysian fields, and taking her by the hand leads her on to the
upper world. In a fatal moment he yields to her desire to see him, and
she sinks back lifeless. Love, however, comes to the rescue, and full
of compassion restores her. Thus the happy lovers are reunited; and
the opera closes without the tragic denouement of the old myth. In the
American performances the opera was divided into four acts, which is
the order we shall follow.
The short overture is characterized by a grandeur and solemnity that
well befit the pathetic story. The curtain rises upon a grotto
containing the tomb of Eurydice, against which Orpheus mournfully
leans, while upon its steps youths and maidens are strewing flowers as
they chant the sombre song, "Ah! in our still and mournful Meadow."
The sad wail of Orpheus upon the single word "Eurydice" is heard
through its strains, which continually increase in solemnity. At last,
as if too much to bear, Orpheus interrupts their threnody with the
words, "The Sounds of your Lament increase my bitter Anguish." The
chorus in reply resumes its melancholy tribute to Eurydice and then
retires, leaving Orpheus alone, who in a monologue full of pathos and
sorrow ("My Eurydice! my Eurydice! lost forever"), sings his grief and
implores the gods to restore his loved one. In answer to his prayer,
Amor, god of love, appears and announces that the gods have been moved
to compassion; and if his song and lyre can appease the phantoms,
death shall give back Eurydice upon the conditions already named. The
act closes with the joyful song of Orpheus: "Will pitying Heaven with
wondrous Favor restore mine own?"
The second act opens in the abysses of the underworld. Flames shoot up
amid great masses of rock and from yawning caverns, throwing their
lurid glare upon the phantoms, who writhing in furious indignation
demand in wild and threatening chorus, as the tones of Orpheus's lyre
are heard, "Who through this awful Place, thinking alive to pass,
rashly dares venture here?" Madly they call upon Cerberus "to kill thy
new Prey here." The barking of the triple-headed monster is heard in
the tones of the orchestra. They surround Orpheus as he approaches,
and with renewed clamor continue this thrilling chorus. In the midst
of its cruel intensity is heard the appealing voice of Orpheus ("In
Pity be moved by my Grief"). With overwhelming wrath comes the
reiterated monosyllable, "No," from the Furies,--one of the most
daring and powerful effects ever made in dramatic music,--followed by
another appalling chorus, as they announce to him, "These are the
Depths of Hell, where the Avengers dwell." At last they are touched by
the charm of his music and the sorrow of his story; and as their fury
dies away, the song of Orpheus grows more exultant as he contemplates
the reunion with Eurydice.
The gates of the lower world are opened, and in the third act Orpheus
enters Elysium. The scene begins with a tender, lovely song by
Eurydice and her companions ("In this tranquil and lovely Abode of the
Blest"), the melody taken by the flute with string accompaniment. All
is bright and cheerful and in striking contrast with the gloom and
terror of the Stygian scene we have just left. After a short
recitative ("How mild a Day, without a Noon"), Orpheus seeks her. She
is brought to him by a crowd of shadows; and breaking out in joyful
song he takes her by the hand and turns his face to the upper world.
The fourth act is almost entirely an impassioned duet between Orpheus
and Eurydice. He releases her hand for fear that he may turn and look
upon her. Eurydice chides him ("Am I changed or grown old that thou
wilt not behold me?"). In vain he urges her to follow him. She
upbraids him for his coldness, and demands one glance as a test of his
love. He still refuses, and then she sorrowfully bids him farewell. At
last, overcome with weariness and sorrow, he gazes upon her; and at
that instant she falls lifeless. Then Orpheus breaks out in that
immortal song, the _Che faro senza Eurydice_ ("I have lost my
Eurydice"), the beauty and pathos of which neither time nor change of
musical custom can ever mar. He is about to take his life with his
sword; but Amor suddenly appears upon the scene, stays his hand, and
tells him the gods are moved by his sufferings. He restores Eurydice
to life, and the opera closes with a beautiful terzetto in Love's
temple. The denouement is followed by ballet music.
GOETZ.
Hermann Goetz, to whose life attaches a mournful interest, was born at
Koenigsberg, Dec. 17, 1840. He had no regular instruction in music
until his seventeenth year. At that period he began his studies with
Köhler, and then passed successively under the tuition of Stern,
Ulrich, and Von Bülow. At the age of twenty-three he obtained a
position as organist at Winterthur, and also taught at Zurich. It was
during this time that he composed his opera, "The Taming of the
Shrew," meanwhile supporting himself as he best could, sometimes
struggling with actual poverty. For years he attempted to secure a
hearing for his opera; but it was not until 1874 that its great merit
was recognized, for in that year it was produced at Mannheim with
instant success. Its fame travelled all over Germany. It was performed
in Vienna in 1875, and the same year in Leipsic and Berlin, and
reached London in 1878. It was not heard in this country until the
season of 1885-86, when it was produced by the American Opera Company.
The composer did not live long enough, however, to enjoy the fruits of
his work, as he died in 1876. He also left behind him an unfinished
score of a second opera, "Francesca di Rimini," which was completed by
his friend Franke at his request, but proved a failure. His other
works include a symphony in F, a suite for orchestra, and many chamber
compositions.
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.
"The Taming of the Shrew," as related in the sketch of the composer's
life, was written about the year 1863, and first produced at Mannheim
in 1872. Its first performance in this country was in January, 1886,
when the cast was as follows:--
KATHARINE PAULINE L'ALLEMAND.
BIANCA KATE BENSBERG.
PETRUCHIO WILLIAM H. LEE.
BAPTISTA W.H. HAMILTON.
LUCENTIO W.H. FESSENDEN.
HORTENSIO ALONZO STODDARD.
A TAILOR JOHN HOWSON.
The libretto is freely adapted from Shakspeare's comedy by Joseph
Victor Widmann. The plot is very simple. Baptista, a rich Paduan
gentleman, has two daughters,--Katharine, the shrew, and Bianca, of
sweet and lovable disposition. Both Hortensio and Lucentio are in love
with Bianca; but the obdurate father will not listen to either until
Katharine shall have been married. In this apparently hopeless
situation a gleam of comfort appears, in the suit which the rich
gallant Petruchio, of Verona, pays to Katharine, in disgust with the
sycophants who have been manifesting such deference to his wealth. The
remainder of the story is occupied with the details of the various
processes by which he breaks and tames the shrew, and the ingenious
ruse by which Lucentio gains the hand of the lovely Bianca.
The curtain rises upon a night scene in Padua, with Lucentio before
Bianca's house singing a melodious serenade. Its strains are
interrupted, however, by a hurly-burly in the house, caused by the
shrew's demonstrations. The tumult is transferred to the street, and
gives occasion for a very vigorous ensemble. When the crowd disperses,
Lucentio resumes his serenade, Bianca appears upon the balcony, and
the two join in a very pleasing duet. This number is also interrupted
by Hortensio, at the head of a band of street musicians, who has also
come to serenade his mistress. The encounter of the two lovers brings
on a quarrel, which is averted, however, by the interposition of
Baptista. A duet follows between them, at the close of which Lucentio
retires. Petruchio now appears upon the scene, and learns from
Hortensio of Katharine's vixenish disposition, which determines him to
woo her. With a stirring song ("She is a Wife for such a Man
created"), the act comes to an end.
The second act opens in a chamber in Baptista's house, where Katharine
is berating Bianca for accepting serenades from suitors, and abuses
her even to blows. The scene closes with a vigorous song for Katharine
("I'll give myself to no one"), which is greeted with cynical applause
by Petruchio, Baptista, Lucentio, and Hortensio, who enter, the last
two disguised as teachers. In the next scene, Petruchio and Katharine
alone, we have the turbulent wooing, which is accompanied throughout
by characteristic music. As the others return Petruchio announces his
success in the song, "All is well," the theme of which is taken by the
quintet, closing the act.
The third is the most interesting act of the three. It opens on the
day selected for the wedding of Katharine and Petruchio, in Baptista's
garden; the first number being a charming quintet for Katharine,
Bianca, Lucentio, Hortensio, and Baptista. The guests are present, but
Petruchio is not there. An explanation is made, followed by a chorus
as the guests leave; and then Bianca is free to take her lessons, in
one of which Lucentio makes his avowal of love to her. The arrangement
of the two lessons is both unique and skilful. Lucentio turns the
familiar opening lines of the Æneid, "Arma virumque cano," etc., into
a love-song by declarations interposed between them; while Hortensio
explains the mysteries of the scale to her, each line of his love-song
beginning with one of its letters. It is soon found, however, that
Lucentio is the accepted lover. Baptista now enters and announces
Petruchio's return, which leads to a charming quartet. The finale of
the opera, which is very spirited, includes the preparations for the
marriage-feast, the wedding, and the scene in which Petruchio abruptly
forces his bride to leave with him for his country house.
GOLDMARK.
Karl Goldmark was born at Keszthely, Hungary, May 18, 1832. He first
studied with the violinist Jansa at Vienna, and in his fifteenth year
entered the Conservatory in that city. Little is known of the events
of his early life. Indeed, his success in his profession is generally
credited more to his native ability and industry than to the influence
of teachers or schools. He began composition at an early period, and
produced his works in concerts with much success under the
encouragement of Hellmesberger and others, who recognized his ability
before he had made any impression out of Vienna. Four of his
compositions during the past fifteen years, the "Sakuntala" overture,
the operas "The Queen of Sheba" and "Merlin," and "Die Iändliche
Hochzeit" (The Country Wedding) symphony have made a permanent
reputation for him. The overture and operas have been performed
several times in this country. Besides these he has written several
pieces of chamber music.
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA.
"The Queen of Sheba" was first produced in Vienna, March 10, 1875, and
was first heard in this country at New York, Dec. 2, 1885, when the
cast was as follows:--
KING SOLOMON Herr ROBINSON.
HIGH-PRIEST Herr FISCHER.
SULAMITH Fraülein LEHMANN.
ASSAD Herr STRITT.
BAAL HANAN Herr ALEXI.
QUEEN OF SHEBA Frau KRAMER-WEIDL.
ASTAROTH Fraülein BRANDT.
The libretto by Mosenthal is one of rare excellence in its skilful
treatment of situations and arrangement of scenes with the view to
spectacular and dramatic effect. The Biblical story has but little to
do with the action of the opera beyond the mere fact of the famous
visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon. The stirring episodes during
the journey and the visit spring from the librettist's imagination.
The story in substance is as follows:--
King Solomon, learning of the Queen's intention to visit him, sends
his favorite courtier Assad to escort her. While she waits outside the
gates of Jerusalem, Assad announces her arrival to the King and
Sulamith, the daughter of the high-priest, to whom the courtier is
affianced. Observing his disturbed looks, the King, after dismissing
his attendants, inquires the cause. Assad replies that on their
journey through the forest he had encountered a nymph bathing whose
beauty had so impressed him as to banish even the thoughts of his
affianced. The wise Solomon counsels him to marry Sulamith at once.
Meanwhile the Queen comes into the King's presence, and as she lifts
her veil reveals the unknown fair one. She affects ignorance of
Assad's passion; but when she learns that he is to wed Sulamith love
for him springs up in her own breast. Upon the day of the wedding
ceremony Assad, carried away by his longing for the Queen, declares
her to be his divinity, and is condemned to death for profaning the
Temple. Both the Queen and Sulamith appeal to the King for mercy. He
consents at last to save his life, but banishes him to the desert. The
Queen seeks him there, and makes an avowal of her love; but Assad
repulses her. As Sulamith comes upon the scene a simoom sweeps across
the desert. They perish in each other's arms; while in a mirage the
Queen and her attendants are seen journeying to their home.
The first act opens in the great hall of Solomon's palace with a
brilliant, joyous chorus ("Open the Halls, adorn the Portals") in
praise of the King's glory. After the entrance of the high-priest,
Sulamith sings a fascinating bridal song ("My own Assad returns"),
richly oriental both in music and sentiment, dreamy and luxurious in
its tone, and yet full of joyous expectation, with characteristic
choral refrain and dainty accompaniment. The fourth and fifth scenes
are full of agitation and unrest, and lead up to Assad's explanation
of his perturbed condition ("At Lebanon's Foot I met Arabia's Queen"),
a monologue aria of rich glowing color and reaching a fine dramatic
climax as it progresses from its sensuous opening to the passionate
intensity of its finale. It is followed by the entrance of the Queen,
accompanied by a brilliant march and a jubilant chorus ("To the Sun of
the South our Welcome we bring") and a stirring concerted number,
describing the recognition of the Queen by Assad; after which the
chorus resumes its jubilant strain, bringing the act to a close.
The second act opens in the gardens of the palace and discloses the
Queen, who gives expression to her love for Assad and her hatred of
Sulamith in an impassioned aria ("Let me from the festal Splendor").
In the second scene Astaroth, her slave, appears and lures Assad by a
weird strain, which is one of the most effective passages in the opera
("As the Heron calls in the Reeds"). After a short arioso by Assad
("Magical Sounds, intoxicating Fragrance"), a passionate duet with the
Queen follows, interrupted by the call of the Temple-guard to prayer.
The scene changes to the interior of the sanctuary with its religious
service; and with it the music changes also to solemn Hebrew melodies
with the accompaniment of the sacred instruments, leading up to the
stirring finale in which Assad declares his passion for the Queen,
amid choruses of execration by the people.
The third act opens in the banquet-hall upon a scene of festivity
introduced by the graceful bee dance of the Almas. It is followed by
the powerful appeal of the Queen for Assad's life, rising to an
intensely dramatic pitch as she warns the King of the revenge of her
armed hosts ("When Sheba's iron Lances splinter and Zion's Throne in
Ruins falls"). In sad contrast comes the mournful chant which
accompanies Sulamith as she passes to the vestal's home ("The Hour
that robbed me of him"), and ends in her despairing cry rising above
the chorus of attendants as Solomon also refuses her petition.
The last act passes in the desert. Assad beneath a solitary palm-tree
laments the destiny which pursues him ("Whither shall I wend my weary
Steps?"). In the next scene the Queen appears, and an agitated duet
follows, ending with her repulse. Assad in despair calls upon death to
relieve him. The sky darkens. Clouds of sand envelop the fugitive. The
palm bends before the blast as the simoom sweeps by. The storm at last
subsides. The sky grows brighter; and the Queen and her attendants,
with their elephants and camels, appear in a mirage journeying
eastward as Sulamith and her lover expire in each other's arms. As
their duet dies away, the chorus of maidens brings the act to a close
with a few strains from the love-song in the first act.
MERLIN.
The opera of "Merlin" was first performed at Vienna, Nov. 17, 1886,
and was heard for the first time in this country at New York, Jan. 3,
1887, under the direction of Mr. Walter Damrosch, with the following
cast:--
KING ARTHUR Herr ROBINSON.
MODRED Herr KEMLITZ.
LANCELOT Herr BURSCH.
GAWEIN Herr HEINRICH.
GLENDOWER Herr VON MILDE.
MERLIN Herr ALVARY.
VIVIANE Fraülein LEHMANN.
BEDWYR Herr SIEGLITZ.
THE FAY MORGANA Fraülein BRANDT.
THE DEMON Herr FISCHER.
The libretto of the opera is by Siegfried Lipiner. The scene is laid
in Wales, and the hero, Merlin, is familiar as one of the knights of
King Arthur's round-table. The story is as follows:--
The Devil, ambitious to banish all good from the world, unites himself
to a virgin in order that he may beget a child who shall aid him in
his fell purpose. The child is Merlin, who partakes of the mother's
goodness, and instead of aiding his father, seeks to thwart his
design. The Devil thereupon consults the Fay Morgana, who tells him
that Merlin will lose his power if he falls in love. In the opening
scene King Arthur sends Lancelot to Merlin for aid, who promises him
victory and achieves it by the assistance of his familiar, a demon,
who is in league with the Devil. Tired of his service to Merlin, the
demon contrives to have him meet the beautiful Viviane, with whom he
falls in love. The second act transpires in Merlin's enchanted garden,
and reveals his growing passion, and at the same time his waning power
of magic; for when once more Arthur summons his aid he attempts to
tear himself away from her only to realize his weakness. She seeks to
detain him by throwing a magic veil over him which has been given her
by the demon; in an instant the scene changes, and Merlin appears
confined to a rock by fiery chains, while the demon mocks him from a
neighboring eminence, and Viviane gives way to anguish. In the last
act Viviane is told by the Fay Morgana that Merlin's release can only
be secured by woman's self-sacrifice. Once more an appeal for help
comes to him from Arthur, and he promises his soul to the demon in
exchange for his freedom. His chains fall off. He rushes into the
battle and secures the victory, but is fatally wounded. The demon
claims him; but Viviane, remembering the words of the Fay Morgana,
stabs herself and thus balks him of his expectant prey.
Like Wagner's operas, "Merlin" has its motives, the principal ones
being that of the demon, or the evil principle, and two love motives.
In its general treatment it is also Wagnerish. The first scene opens
with the spirited message of Lancelot to Glendower, beseeching
Merlin's aid for the hard-pressed Arthur. It is followed by the
strains of Merlin's harp in the castle and his assurance of victory,
and these in turn by very descriptive incantation music summoning the
demon and the supernatural agencies which will compass the defeat of
Arthur's enemies. Then comes the interview between the demon and the
Fay Morgana, in which he learns the secret of Merlin's weakness. In
the next scene Arthur returns from his victory over the Saxons to the
tempo of a stirring march, and accompanied by the joyous choruses of
women. A vigorous episode, in which Bedwyr, one of Arthur's knights,
is charged with treachery, is followed by Merlin's chant of victory
with chorus accompaniment. As its strains die away a distant horn
announces Viviane, who makes her appearance singing a breezy hunting
song with her maidens, leading up to a spirited septet. Then follows
the baffled attempt of Viviane to crown Merlin, the scene closing with
a repetition of the chant of victory and the choruses of jubilation.
The second act opens in the enchanted gardens of Merlin; and the first
scene reveals a conspiracy to seize the crown during Arthur's absence
and proclaim Modred king, and the farewell of Arthur and his suite to
Merlin. The magic-veil scene follows with its fascinating dance
tempos, and leads with its graceful measures up to the passionate
love-scene between Merlin and Viviane, which is harshly broken in upon
by the clash of arms between Modred and his perfidious companions and
the faithful friends of Arthur. A dramatic scene of great energy
follows, in which Viviane at last throws the magic veil around Merlin
with the transforming results already told.
The last act opens with Viviane's mournful lament for the wretched
fate which she has brought down upon her lover, and the announcement
of the means by which he may be released made to her in slumber by the
Fay Morgana. Her maidens seek to rouse her with choral appeals, in
which are heard phrases of her hunting song. Meanwhile mocking spirits
appear about Merlin and taunt him in characteristic music. Then
follows the compact with the demon, which releases him. He rushes into
the battle accompanied by an exultant song from Viviane; but soon the
funeral march, as his followers bear him from the field, tells the
mournful story of his fate. A very dramatic ensemble contains the deed
of self-sacrifice, by which Viviane ends her life to redeem Merlin
from the demon, and with this powerful effect the opera closes.
GOUNOD.
Charles François Gounod was born, in Paris, June 17, 1818. He studied
music in the Conservatory, under the direction of Halevy, Lesueur, and
Paer, and in 1839 obtained the first prize, and, under the usual
regulations, went to Italy. While at Rome he devoted himself largely
to religious music. On his return to Paris he became organist of the
Missions Étrangères, and for a time seriously thought of taking
orders. In 1851, however, he brought out his first opera, "Sappho,"
which met with success. At this point his active career began. In 1852
he became conductor of the Orphéon, and wrote the choruses for
Ponsard's tragedy of "Ulysse." The year 1854 brought a five-act opera,
"La Nonne Sanglante," founded on a legend in Lewis's "Monk." In 1858
he made his first essay in opera comique, and produced "Le Médecin
malgré lui," which met with remarkable success. The next year "Faust"
was performed, and placed him in the front rank of living composers.
"Philémon et Baucis" appeared in 1860, and "La Reine de Saba," which
was afterwards performed in English as "Irene," in 1862. In 1863 he
brought out the pretty pastoral opera "Mireille." This was succeeded
in 1866 by "La Colombe," known in English as "The Pet Dove," and in
1867 by "Roméo et Juliette." In 1877 he produced "Cinq Mars," and in
1878 his last opera, "Polyeucte." He has also written much church
music, the more important works being the "Messe Solenelle," a "Stabat
Mater," the oratorio "Tobie," a "De Profundis," an "Ave Verum," and
many single hymns and songs, among which "Nazareth" is universally
popular. His list of compositions for orchestra is also very large,
and includes such popular pieces as the "Saltarello," "Funeral March
of a Marionette," and the Meditation, based on Bach's First Prelude,
which is accompanied by a soprano solo. He was elected a member of the
Institut de France in 1866.
FAUST.
"Faust," a grand opera in five acts, words by Barbier and Carré,
founded upon Goethe's tragedy, was first produced at the Théâtre
Lyrique, Paris, March 19, 1859, with the following cast of the
principal parts:--
MARGUERITE Mme. MIOLAN-CARVALHO.
SIEBEL Mlle. FAIVRE.
FAUST M. BARBOT.
VALENTIN M. REGNAL.
MEPHISTOPHELES M. BALANQUÉ.
MARTHA Mme. DUCLOS.
The opera was first produced in London as "Faust," June 11, 1863; in
English, Jan. 23, 1864; and in Germany as "Margarethe."
The story of the opera follows Goethe's tragedy very closely, and is
confined to the first part. It may be briefly told. Faust, an aged
German student, satiated with human knowledge and despairing of his
ability to unravel the secrets of nature, summons the evil spirit
Mephistopheles to his assistance, and contracts to give him his soul
in exchange for a restoration to youth. Mephistopheles effects the
transformation, and reveals to him the vision of Marguerite, a
beautiful village maiden, with whom Faust at once falls in love. They
set out upon their travels and encounter her at the Kermesse. She has
been left by her brother Valentin, a soldier, in care of Dame Martha,
who proves herself a careless guardian. Their first meeting is a
casual one; but subsequently he finds her in her garden, and with the
help of the subtle Mephistopheles succeeds in engaging the young
girl's affection. Her simple lover, Siebel, is discarded, and his
nosegay is thrown away at sight of the jewels with which Faust tempts
her. When Valentin returns from the wars he learns of her temptation
and subsequent ruin. He challenges the seducer, and in the encounter
is slain by the intervention of Mephistopheles. Overcome by the horror
of her situation, Marguerite becomes insane, and in her frenzy kills
her child. She is thrown into prison, where Faust and Mephistopheles
find her. Faust urges her to fly with them, but she refuses, and
places her reliance for salvation upon earnest prayer, and sorrow for
the wrong she has done. Pleading for forgiveness, she expires; and as
Mephistopheles exults at the catastrophe he has wrought, angels appear
amid the music of the celestial choirs and bear the sufferer to
heaven.
The first act is in the nature of a prelude, and opens with a long
soliloquy ("Interrogo invano") by Faust, in which he laments the
unsatisfactoriness of life. It is interwoven with delightful snatches
of chorus heard behind the scenes, a duet with Mephistopheles ("Ma il
ciel"), and the delicate music accompanying the vision of Marguerite.
The second act is contained in a single setting, the Kermesse, in
which the chorus plays an important part. In the first scene the
choruses of students, soldiers, old men, girls, and matrons are
quaintly contrasted, and are full of animation and characteristic
color. In the second, Valentin sings a tender song ("O santa
medaglia") to a medallion of his sister which he wears as a charm. It
is followed by a grim and weird drinking-song ("Dio dell' or"), sung
by Mephistopheles. The latter then strikes fire from the fountain into
his cup, and proposes the health of Marguerite. Valentin springs
forward to resent the insult, only to find his sword broken in his
hands. The students and soldiers recognize the spirit of evil, and
overcome him by presenting the hilts of their swords in the form of a
cross, the scene being accompanied by one of the most effective
choruses in the work ("Tu puvi la spada"). The tempter gone, the scene
resumes its gayety, and the act closes with one of the most animated
and delightful of waltz tempos ("Come la brezza").
The third act is the Garden scene, full of fascinating detail, and
breathes the very spirit of poetry and music combined in a picture of
love which has never been excelled in tenderness and beauty on the
operatic stage. Its principal numbers are a short and simple but very
beautiful ballad for Siebel ("La parlate d'amor"); a passionate aria
for tenor ("Salve dimora casta e pura"), in which Faust greets
Marguerite's dwelling; a double number, which is superb in its
contrasts,--the folk-song, "C'era un re di Thule," a plaintive little
ballad sung at the spinning-wheel by Marguerite, and the bravura
jewel-song, "Ah! e' strano poter," which is the very essence of
delicacy and almost-childish glee; the quartet commencing,
"V'appogiato al bracchio mio," which is of striking interest by the
independent manner in which the two pairs of voices are treated and
combined in the close; and the closing duet ("Sempre amar") between
Faust and Marguerite, which is replete with tenderness and passion,
and closes in strains of almost ecstatic rapture, the fatal end of
which is foreshadowed by the mocking laugh of Mephistopheles breaking
in upon its lingering cadences.
The fourth act is known as the Cathedral act, and established Gounod's
reputation as a writer of serious music. It opens with a scena for
Marguerite, who has been taunted by the girls at the fountain
("Nascose eran là le crudeli "), in which she laments her sad fate.
The scene abruptly changes to the square in front of the cathedral,
where the soldiers, Valentin among them, are returning, to the
jubilant though somewhat commonplace strains of the march, "Deponiam
il branda." As the soldiers retire and Valentin goes in quest of
Marguerite, Faust and Mephistopheles appear before the house, and the
latter sings a grotesque and literally infernal serenade ("Tu, che fai
l' addormentata"). Valentin appears and a quarrel ensues, leading up
to a spirited trio. Valentin is slain, and with his dying breath
pronounces a malediction ("Margherita! maledetta") upon his sister.
The scene changes to the church, and in wonderful combination we hear
the appeals of Marguerite for mercy, the taunting voice of the
tempter, and the monkish chanting of the "Dies Irae" mingled with the
solemn strains of the organ.
The last act is usually presented in a single scene, the Prison, but
it contains five changes. After a weird prelude, the Walpurgis revel
begins, in which short, strange phrases are heard from unseen singers.
The night scene changes to a hall of pagan enchantment, and again to
the Brocken, where the apparition of Marguerite is seen. The orgy is
resumed, when suddenly by another transformation we are taken to the
prison where Marguerite is awaiting death. It is unnecessary to give
its details. The scene takes the form of a terzetto, which is worked
up with constantly increasing power to a climax of passionate energy,
and at last dies away as Marguerite expires. It stands almost alone
among effects of this kind in opera. The curtain falls upon a
celestial chorus of apotheosis, the vision of the angels, and
Mephistopheles cowering in terror before the heavenly messengers.
ROMEO AND JULIET.
"Roméo et Juliette," a grand opera in five acts, words by Barbier and
Carré, the subject taken from Shakspeare's tragedy of the same name,
was first produced at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, April 27, 1867, with
Mme. Miolan-Carvalho in the rôle of Juliet. The story as told by the
French dramatists in the main follows Shakspeare's tragedy very
closely in its construction as well as in its dialogue. It is only
necessary, therefore, to sketch its outlines. The first act opens with
the festival at the house of Capulet. Juliet and Romeo meet there and
fall in love, notwithstanding her betrothal to Paris. The hot-blooded
Tybalt seeks to provoke a quarrel with Romeo, but is restrained by
Capulet himself, and the act comes to a close with a resumption of the
merry festivities. In the second act we have the balcony scene, quite
literally taken from Shakspeare, with an episode, however, in the form
of a temporary interruption by Gregory and retainers, whose appearance
is rather absurd than otherwise. The third act is constructed in two
scenes. The first is in the friar's cell, where the secret marriage of
the lovers takes place. In the second, we are introduced to a new
character, invented by the librettist,--Stephano, Romeo's page, whose
pranks while in search of his master provoke a general quarrel, in
which Mercutio is slain by Tybalt, who in turn is killed by Romeo.
When Capulet arrives upon the scene he condemns Romeo to banishment,
who vows, however, that he will see Juliet again at all hazards. The
fourth act is also made up of two scenes. The first is in Juliet's
chamber, and is devoted to a duet between the two lovers. Romeo departs
at dawn, and Capulet appears with Friar Laurence and announces his
determination that the marriage with Paris shall be celebrated at once.
Juliet implores the Friar's help, and he gives her the potion. The next
scene is devoted to the wedding festivity, in the midst of which Juliet
falls insensible from the effects of the sleeping-draught. The last act
transpires in the tomb of the Capulets, where Romeo arrives, and
believing his mistress dead takes poison. Juliet, reviving from the
effects of the potion, and finding him dying, stabs herself with a
dagger, and expires in his arms.
While many numbers are greatly admired, the opera as a whole has never
been successful. Had not "Faust," which it often recalls, preceded it,
its fate might have been different. Still, it contains many strong
passages and much beautiful writing. The favorite numbers are the
waltz arietta, very much in the manner of the well-known "Il Bacio,"
at the Capulet festival, the Queen Mab song, by Mercutio ("Mab, regina
di menzogne"), and the duet between Romeo and Juliet ("Di grazia, t'
arresta ancor!"), in the first act; the love music in the balcony
scene of the second act, which inevitably recalls the garden music in
"Faust;" an impressive solo for Friar Laurence ("Al vostro amor
cocente"), followed by a vigorous trio and quartet, the music of which
is massive and ecclesiastical in character, and the page's song ("Ah!
col nibbio micidale"), in the third act; the duet of parting between
Romeo and Juliet, "Tu dei partir ohime!" the quartet, "Non temero mio
ben," between Juliet, the nurse, Friar Laurence, and Capulet, and the
dramatic solo for the Friar, "Bevi allor questo filtro," as he gives
the potion to Juliet, in the fourth act; and the elaborate orchestral
prelude to the tomb scene in the last act.
MIREILLE.
"Mireille," a pastoral opera in three acts, words by M. Carré, the
subject taken from "Mireio," a Provençal poem by Mistral, was first
produced at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, March 19, 1864, with the
following cast:--
MIREILLE Mme. MIOLAN-CARVALHO
TAVENA | Mme. FAURE-LEFEBVRE.
ANDRELUNO |
VINCENZINA Mlle. LEROUX.
VINCENZO M. ISMIEL.
URIAS M. PETIT.
RAIMONDO M. MORINI.
In December, 1864, the opera was reduced to three acts, in which form
it is still given. In this abridged shape, and with the addition of
the waltz now placed in the finale, it was brought out in London with
Titiens, Giuglini, Santley, and Trebelli in the cast. In English it is
always given under the title of "Mirella." The first scene opens in a
mulberry grove, where Mireille is rallied by the village girls upon
her attachment to Vincenzo, the basket-maker, and is also warned by
Tavena, the fortune-teller, against yielding to her love, as she
foresees that her father, Raimondo, will never consent to the union.
In the next scene she meets Vincenzo, and the warning of Tavena is
soon forgotten. The lovers renew their pledges, and agree to meet at
the Chapel of the Virgin if their plans are thwarted. The second act
introduces us to a merrymaking at Arles, where Mireille is informed by
Tavena that Vincenzo has a rival in Urias, a wild herdsman, who has
openly declared his love for her, and asked her hand of her father.
Mireille repulses him when he brings the father's consent. Ambrogio,
Vincenzo's father, accompanied by his daughter, Vincenzina, also waits
upon Raimondo and intercedes in his son's behalf, but is sternly
refused. Mireille, who has overheard the interview, declares to her
father her irrevocable attachment for Vincenzo. Her declaration throws
him into such a rage that he is about to strike her, but she disarms
his anger by appealing to the memory of her mother.
The last act opens on a barren, sunburnt plain. Andreluno appears,
singing a pastoral song to the accompaniment of his bagpipe, followed
by Mireille, who is toiling across the hot sands to meet her lover at
the Chapel of the Virgin. She is met by Tavena, who assures her that
Vincenzo will keep his appointment, and then returns to Arles to plead
with the father in Mireille's behalf. The poor girl toils on through
the heat, and at last arrives nearly prostrated by sunstroke. Vincenzo
soon appears, and is shortly followed by Raimondo, who, seeing the sad
condition of his daughter, is moved to pity and gives his consent to
the union of the lovers. The sudden joyful change of affairs restores
her wandering senses and the happy pair are united.
The music is in no sense dramatic, but lyric and pastoral throughout,
and is specially marked by the beautiful French chansons with which it
abounds. The first act opens with a delightful pastoral chorus of the
maidens under the mulberry-trees ("Facciam carole, o giovinette"),
which is very fresh and graceful. The second begins with an equally
delightful chorus and farandole ("La Farandola tutti consola"),
followed by the beautiful Provençal folk-song, "Dolce una brezza,
intorno olezza," which is full of local color. Tavena sings a quaint
fortune-teller's roundelay ("La stagione arriva"), and in the next
scene Mireille has a number of rare beauty ("Ah! piu non temo fato "),
in which she declares her unalterable attachment to Vincenzo. The
finale of this act, with its strong aria ("Qui mi prostro innanzi
ate"), is very spirited, and in fact may be considered the only
dramatic episode in the whole work. The third act opens with the
quaint little song of Andreluno, the shepherd boy ("L'alba
tranquilla"), with oboe accompaniment. It also contains a plaintive
song for tenor ("Ah! se de preghi miei"), and closes with a waltz song
("O d'amor messagera"), which is fairly gorgeous in bravura effects,
and Hanslick says was a concession to Miolan-Carvalho, like the jewel
song in "Faust" and the waltz song in "Romeo and Juliet." In the
original libretto the song had its place in the first act, and indeed
numerous changes have been made in the libretto since the opera first
appeared; as in the original, Mireille dies in the arms of her lover,
and Urias, Vincenzo's rival, is drowned in the Rhone. When it first
appeared, however, great objection was made to several of the
situations, and the libretto was declared fantastic and uninteresting;
hence the changes. As a lyric drama, delightfully picturing the
quaintness and simplicity of provincial life, not alone in the
tunefulness of the music, but also in its pastoral naïveté and what
may be termed its folk-characteristics, it will hold a high place upon
the stage as long as young and fresh voices can be found to sing it.
HALEVY.
Jacques François Fromenthal Elias Halevy was born at Paris, May 27,
1799, of Israelitish parents, whose name was originally Levy. He
entered the Conservatory in 1809, and in 1819 obtained the Grand Prize
for his cantata of "Hermione." After his arrival in Italy he wrote
several minor pieces, but his music did not attract public attention
until his return to Paris, when his three-act opera, "Clari," brought
out Dec. 9, 1828, with Malibran in the principal rôle, made a success.
"Le Dilettante d'Avignon" (a satire on Italian librettos), "Manon
Lescaut" (a ballet in three acts), "La Langue Musicàle," "La
Tentation," and "Les Souvenirs" rapidly followed "Clari," with
alternating successes and failures. In 1835 his great work, "La
Juive," appeared, and in the same year, "L'Éclair," one of his most
charming operas, written without chorus for two tenors and two
sopranos. It was considered at the time a marvellous feat that he
should have produced two such opposite works in the same year, and
great hopes were entertained that he would surpass them. These hopes
failed, however. He subsequently wrote over twenty operas, among them
"Guido et Ginevra" (1838); "Charles VI." (1842); "La Reine de Chypre"
(1842); "Les Mousquetaires de la Reine" (1846); "Le Val d'Andorre"
(1848); "La Tempête" (1853): "Le Juif Errant" (1855), and others; but
"La Juive" and "L'Éclair" remained his masterpieces, and procured him
admission into the Institute. He was also a professor in the
Conservatory, and among his pupils were Gounod, Massé, Bazin,
Duvernoy, Bizet, and others. He enjoyed many honors, and died March
17, 1862. A De Profundis was sung on the occasion of his funeral,
written by four of his pupils, MM. Gounod, Massé, Bazin, and Cohen. As
a composer he was influenced largely by Meyerbeer, and is remarkable
rather for his large dramatic effects than for his melody.
THE JEWESS
"La Juive," a grand opera in five acts, words by Scribe, originally
written for Rossini and rejected in favor of "William Tell," was
produced for the first time at the Académie, Paris, Feb. 23, 1835,
with the following cast of the principal parts:--
RACHEL Mlle. CORNELIA FALCON.
EUDOXIA Mme. DORUS-GRAS.
ELEAZAR M. NOURRIT.
CARDINAL M. LEVASSEUR.
It was first produced in England in French, July 29, 1846, and in
Italian under the title of "La Ebrea," July 25, 1850. In this country
it is most familiar in the German version. The scene of the opera is
laid in Constance, time, 1414. Leopold, a prince of the empire,
returning from the wars, is enamoured of Rachel, a beautiful Jewess,
daughter of Eleazar the goldsmith. The better to carry out his plans,
he calls himself Samuel, and pretends to be a Jewish painter.
Circumstances, however, dispel the illusion, and Rachel learns that he
is no other than Leopold, husband of the princess Eudoxia. Overcome
with indignation at the discovery of his perfidy, she publicly
denounces his crime, and the Cardinal excommunicates Leopold, and
pronounces his malediction on Rachel and her father. Rachel, Eleazar,
and Leopold are thrown into prison to await the execution of the
sentence of death. During their imprisonment Eudoxia intercedes with
Rachel to save Leopold's life, and at last, moved by the grief of the
rightful wife, she publicly recants her statement. Leopold is
banished, but Rachel and her father are again condemned to death for
conspiring against the life of a Christian. Eleazar determines to be
revenged in the moment of death upon the Cardinal, who has sentenced
them, and who is at the head of a church which he hates; and just
before they are thrown into a caldron of fire, reveals to the
spectators that Rachel is not his own, but an adopted daughter, saved
from the ruins of the Cardinal's burning palace, and that she is his
child.
The opera of "The Jewess" is pre-eminently spectacular, and its music
is dramatic and declamatory rather than melodious. The prominent
numbers of the first act are the solemn declaration of the Cardinal
("Wenn ew'ger Hass"), in which he replies to Eleazar's hatred of the
Christian; the romance sung by Leopold ("Fern vom Liebchen weilen"),
which is in the nature of a serenade to Rachel; the drinking-song of
the people at the fountain, which is flowing wine ("Eilt herbei"); and
the splendid chorus and march ("Leht, es nahet sich der Zug") which
preludes the imposing pageantry music of the Emperor's arrival,
closing with the triumphant Te Deum to organ accompaniment and the
greeting to the Emperor, "Hosanna, unser Kaiser hoch."
The second act opens with the celebration of the Passover in Eleazar's
house, and introduces a very solemn and impressive prayer
("Allmächt'ger blicke gnädig"). In the next scene there is a
passionate ensemble and duet for Eudoxia and Leopold ("Ich will ihn
seh'n"), which is followed by a second spirited duet between Rachel
and Leopold ("Als mein Herz"); an intensely dramatic aria ("Ach!
Vater! Halt ein!"), in which she claims her share of Leopold's guilt;
and the final grand trio of anathema pronounced by Eleazar.
The third act is principally devoted to the festivities of the royal
pageants, and closes with the anathema of the Cardinal ("Ihr, die ihr
Gottes Zorn"), which is a concerted number of magnificent power and
spirited dramatic effect. The fourth act contains a grand duet between
Eleazar and the Cardinal ("Hört ich recht?"), and closes with one of
the most powerful scenas ever written for tenor ("Das Todesurtheil
sprich"), in which Eleazar welcomes death and hurls defiance at the
Christians. The last act is occupied with the tragic dénouement, which
affords splendid opportunities for action, and is accompanied by very
dramatic music to the close, often rising to real sublimity. In the
pageantry of the stage, in the expression of high and passionate
sentiment, in elaborateness of treatment, and in broad and powerful
dramatic effect, "The Jewess" is one of the strongest operas in the
modern repertory.
HUMPERDINCK.
Engelbert Humperdinck, the latest star in the German musical
firmament, was born, Sept. 1, 1854, at Siegburg on the Rhine, and
received his earliest musical training at the Cologne Conservatory. He
made such rapid progress in his studies, showing special proficiency
in composition, that he carried off in succession the three prizes of
the Mozart, Mendelssohn, and Meyerbeer stipends. These enabled him to
continue his lessons at Munich, and afterwards in Italy. While in
Naples, in 1880, he attracted the attention of Richard Wagner as a
rising genius, and two years later had the honor of an invitation to
go to Venice as his guest, upon the occasion of the performance of
Wagner's only symphony. In 1885 he went to Barcelona, Spain, where he
taught composition, and was the director of a quartette at the Royal
Conservatory for two years. In 1887 he returned to Cologne, and since
1890 has been identified with a Conservatory at Frankfort-on-the-Main.
In addition to the opera "Hansel and Gretel," which has given him a
world-wide fame, he produced, a few years ago, a chorus ballad, "Das
Glück von Edenhall," and a cantata, "Die Wallfahrt nach Kevelaar,"
based upon Heine's poem, and scored for soloists, chorus, and
orchestra. He has also written several songs and piano pieces, and, it
is now reported, is engaged upon a dramatic composition called "The
Royal Children." He is regarded in Germany as the one composer who
gives promise of continuing and developing the scheme of the
music-drama as it was propounded by Wagner.
HANSEL AND GRETEL.
"Hansel and Gretel," a fairy opera in three acts, words by Adelheid
Wette, was first produced in Germany in 1894. In January, 1895, it was
performed in London by the Royal Carl Rosa Opera Company, rendered
into English by Constance Bache; and in the fall of the same year it
had its first representation in New York, at Daly's Theatre, with the
following cast:--
PETER, a broom-maker Mr. JACQUES BARS.
GERTRUDE, his wife Miss ALICE GORDON.
THE WITCH Miss LOUISE MEISSLINGER.
HANSEL Miss MARIE ELBA.
GRETEL Miss JEANNE DOUSTE.
SANDMAN, the Sleep Fairy Miss CECILE BRANI.
DEWMAN, the Dawn Fairy Miss EDITH JOHNSTON.
The story is taken from one of Grimm's well-known fairy tales, and the
text was written by the composer's sister, Adelheid Wette. It was Frau
Wette's intention to arrange the story in dramatic form for the
amusement of her children, her brother lending his co-operation by
writing a few little melodies, of a simple nature, to accompany the
performance. When he had read it, however, the story took his fancy,
and its dramatic possibilities so appealed to him that he determined
to give it an operatic setting with full orchestral score, and thus
placed it in the higher sphere of world performance by an art which
not alone reveals the highest type of genial German sentimentality,
but, curiously enough, applied to this simple little story of angels,
witches, and the two babes in the woods the same musical methods which
Wagner has employed in telling the stories of gods and demigods.
Perhaps its highest praise was sounded by Siegfried Wagner, son of
Richard Wagner, who declared that "Hansel and Gretel" was the most
important German opera since "Parsifal," notwithstanding its
childishness and simplicity.
After a beautifully instrumented prelude, which has already become a
favorite concert piece, the curtain rises upon the home of Peter, the
broom-maker. The parents are away seeking for food, and Hansel and
Gretel have been left in the cottage with instructions to knit and
make brooms. There is a charming dialogue between the two children,
beginning with a doleful lament over their poverty, and ending with an
outburst of childish hilarity in song and dancing,--a veritable romp
in music,--which is suddenly interrupted by the return of Gertrude,
the mother, empty-handed, who chides them for their behavior, and in
her anger upsets a jug of milk which was the only hope of supper in
the house. With an energetic outburst of recitative she sends them
into the forest, telling them not to return until they have filled
their basket with strawberries. After lamenting her loss, and mourning
over her many troubles, she falls asleep, but is awakened by the
return of Peter, who has been more fortunate, and has brought home
some provisions. A rollicking scene ensues, but suddenly he misses the
children, and breaks out in a fit of rage when he is informed that
they have gone into the forest. To the accompaniment of most gruesome
and characteristic music he tells his wife of the witch who haunts the
woods, and who, living in a honey-cake house, entices little children
to it, bakes them into gingerbread in her oven, and then devours them.
The second act, "In the Forest," is preluded by a characteristic
instrumental number, "The Witches' Ride." The children are discovered
near the Ilsenstein, among the fir-trees, making garlands, listening
to the cuckoos, and mocking them in a beautiful duet with echo
accompaniment. At last, however, they realize that they are lost; and
in the midst of their fear, which is intensified by strange sights and
sounds, the Sandman, or sleep fairy, approaches them, strews sand in
their eyes, and sings them to sleep with a most delicious lullaby,
after they have recited their prayer, "When at night I go to sleep,
fourteen Angels watch do keep." As they sleep the mist rolls away, the
forest background disappears, and the fourteen angels come down a sort
of Jacob's ladder and surround the children, while other angels
perform a stately dance, grouping themselves in picturesque tableau as
the curtain falls.
The third act is entitled "The Witch's House." The children are still
sleeping, but the angels have vanished. The Dawn-Fairy steps forward
and shakes dewdrops from a bluebell over them, accompanying the action
with a delightful song, "I'm up with early Dawning." Gretel is the
first to wake, and rouses Hansel by tickling him with a leaf, at the
same time singing a veritable tickling melody, and then telling him
what she has seen in her dream. In place of the fir-trees they
discover the witch's house at the Ilsenstein, with an oven on one side
and on the other a cage, both joined to the house by a curious fence
of gingerbread figures. The house itself is constructed of sweets and
creams. Attracted by its delicious fragrance and toothsomeness, the
hungry children break off a piece and are nibbling at it, when the old
witch within surprises and captures them. After a series of
incantations, and much riding upon her broomstick, which are vividly
portrayed in the music, she prepares to cook Gretel in the oven; but
while looking into it the children deftly tumble her into the fire.
The witch waltz, danced by the children and full of joyous abandon,
follows. To a most vivid accompaniment, Hansel rushes into the house
and throws fruit, nuts, and sweetmeats into Gretel's apron. Meanwhile
the oven falls into bits, and a crowd of children swarms around them,
released from their gingerbread disguises, and sing a swelling chorus
of gratitude as two of the boys drag the witch from the ruins of the
oven in the form of a big gingerbread-cake. The father and mother
appear. Their long quest is ended. The family join in singing a pious
little hymn, "When past bearing is our grief, God the Lord will send
relief;" and the children dance joyously around the reunited group.
The story is only a little child's tale, but it is wedded to music of
the highest order. The union has been made so deftly, the motives are
so charming and take their places so skilfully, and the music is so
scholarly and characteristic throughout, that no one has yet
considered this union as incongruous. In this respect "Hansel and
Gretel" is a distinct creation in the operatic world.
LEONCAVALLO.
Ruggiero Leoncavallo, a promising representative of the young Italian
school, was born in Naples, March 8, 1858. He first studied with Siri,
and afterwards learned harmony and the piano from Simonetti. While a
student at the Naples Conservatory he was advised by Rossi, one of his
teachers, to devote himself to opera. In pursuance of this counsel, he
went to Bologna, and there wrote his first opera, "Tommaso
Chatterton," which still remains in manuscript and unperformed. Then
followed a series of "wander years," during which he visited many
European countries, giving lessons in singing and upon the piano, and
meeting with varying fortunes. In all these years, however, he
cherished the plan of producing a trilogy in the Wagnerian manner with
a groundwork from Florentine history. In a letter he says: "I
subdivided the historical periods in the following way: first part, 'I
Medici,' from the accession of Sextus IV. to the Pazzi conspiracy;
second part, 'Savonorola,' from the investiture of Fra Benedetto to
the death of Savonorola; third part, 'Cesare Borgia,' from the death
of the Duke of Candia to that of Alexander VI." The first part was
completed and performed in Milan in November, 1893, and was a failure,
notwithstanding its effective instrumentation. It was not so, however,
with the little two-act opera "I Pagliacci," which was produced May
21, 1892, at Milan, and met with an instantaneous and enthusiastic
success. His next work was a chorus with orchestral accompaniment, the
text based upon Balzac's rhapsodical and highly wrought "Seraphita,"
which was performed at Milan in 1894. It has been recently reported
that the Emperor of Germany has given him a commission to produce an
opera upon a national subject, "Roland of Berlin." Of his works, "I
Pagliacci" is the only one known in the United States. It has met with
great favor here, and has become standard in the Italian repertory.
I PAGLIACCI.
"I Pagliacci," an Italian opera in two acts, words by the composer,
Ruggiero Leoncavallo, was first performed at Milan, May 21, 1892, and
was introduced in this country in the spring of 1894, Mme. Arnoldson,
Mme. Calvé, and Signors Ancona, Gromzeski, Guetary, and De Lucia
taking the principal parts. The scene is laid in Calabria during the
Feast of the Assumption. The Pagliacci are a troupe of itinerant
mountebanks, the characters being Nedda, the Columbine, who is wife of
Canio, or Punchinello, master of the troupe; Tonio, the Clown; Beppe,
the Harlequin; and Silvio, a villager.
The first act opens with the picturesque arrival of the troupe in the
village, and the preparations for a performance in the rustic theatre,
with which the peasants are overjoyed. The tragic element of the
composition is apparent at once, and the action moves swiftly on to
the fearful dénouement. Tonio, the clown, is in love with Nedda, and
before the performance makes advances to her, which she resents by
slashing him across the face with Beppe's riding-whip. He rushes off
vowing revenge, and upon his return overhears Nedda declaring her
passion for Silvio, a young peasant, and arranging to elope with him.
Tonio thereupon seeks Canio, and tells him of his wife's infidelity.
Canio hurries to the spot, encounters Nedda; but Silvio has fled, and
she refuses to give his name. He attempts to stab her, but is
prevented by Beppe, and the act closes with the final preparation for
the show, the grief-stricken husband donning the motley in gloomy and
foreboding silence.
The second act opens with Tonio beating the big drum, and the people
crowding to the show, among them Silvio, who manages to make an
appointment with Nedda while she is collecting the money. The curtain
of the little theatre rises, disclosing a small room barely furnished.
The play to be performed is almost an identical picture of the real
situation in the unfortunate little troupe. Columbine, who is to
poison her husband, Punchinello, is entertaining her lover, Harlequin,
while Taddeo, the clown, watches for Punchinello's return. When Canio
finally appears the mimic tragedy becomes one in reality. Inflamed
with passion, he rushes upon Nedda, and demands the name of her lover.
She still refuses to tell. He draws his dagger. Nedda, conscious of
her danger, calls upon Silvio in the audience to save her; but it is
too late. Her husband kills her, and Silvio, who rushes upon the
stage, is killed with the same dagger. With a wild cry full of hate,
jealousy, and despair, the unfortunate Canio tells the audience "La
commedia è finita" ("The comedy is finished"). The curtain falls upon
the tragedy, and the excited audience disperses.
The story is peculiarly Italian in its motive, though the composer has
been charged with taking it from "La Femme de Tabarin," by the French
novelist, Catulle Mendès. Be this as it may, Leoncavallo's version has
the merit of brevity, conciseness, ingenuity, and swift action,
closing in a dénouement of great tragic power and capable, in the
hands of a good actor, of being made very effective. The composer has
not alone been charged with borrowing the story, but also with
plagiarizing the music. So far as the accusation of plagiarism is
concerned, however, it hardly involves anything more serious than
those curious resemblances which are so often found in musical
compositions. As a whole, the opera is melodious, forceful, full of
snap and go, and intensely dramatic, and is without a dull moment from
the prologue ("Si può? Signore") sung before the curtain by Tonio to
that last despairing outcry of Canio ("La commedia è finita"), upon
which the curtain falls. The prominent numbers are the prologue
already referred to; Nedda's beautiful cavatina in the second scene
("O, che volo d'angello"); her duet with Silvio in the third scene ("E
allor perchè"); the passionate declamation of Canio at the close of
the first act ("Recitur! mentre preso dal delirio"); the serenade of
Beppe in the second act ("O Colombino, il tenero"); and the graceful
dance-music which plays so singular a part in this fierce struggle of
the passions, which forms the motive of the closing scenes.
MASCAGNI.
Pietro Mascagni, who leaped into fame at a single bound, was born at
Leghorn, Dec. 7, 1863. His father was a baker, and had planned for his
son a career in the legal profession; but, as often happens, fate
ordered otherwise. His tastes were distinctly musical, and his
determination to study music was encouraged by Signor Bianchi, a
singing teacher, who recognized his talent. For a time he took
lessons, unknown to his father, of Soffredini, but when it was
discovered he was ordered to abandon music and devote himself to the
law. At this juncture his uncle Stefano came to his rescue, took him
to his house, provided him with a piano, and also with the means to
pursue his studies. Recognizing the uselessness of further objections,
the father at last withdrew them, and left his son free to follow his
own pleasure. He progressed so rapidly under Soffredini that he was
soon engaged in composition, his first works being a symphony in C
minor and a "Kyrie," which were performed in 1879. In 1881 he composed
a cantata, "In Filanda," and a setting of Schiller's hymn, "An die
Freude," both of which had successful public performances. The former
attracted the attention of a rich nobleman who furnished young
Mascagni with the means to attend the Milan Conservatory. After
studying there a short time, he suddenly left Milan with an operatic
troupe, and visited various Italian cities, a pilgrimage which was of
great value to him, as it made him acquainted with the resources of an
orchestra and the details of conducting. The troupe, however, met with
hard fortunes, and was soon disbanded, throwing Mascagni upon the
world. For a few years he made a precarious living in obscure towns,
by teaching, and had at last reached desperate extremities when one
day he read in a newspaper that Sonzogno, the music publisher, had
offered prizes for the three best one act operas, to be performed in
Rome. He at once entered into the competition, and produced
"Cavalleria Rusticana." It took the first prize. It did more than this
for the impecunious composer. When performed, it made a success of
enthusiasm. He was called twenty times before the curtain. Honors and
decorations were showered upon him. He was everywhere greeted with
serenades and ovations. Every opera-house in Europe clamored for the
new work. In a day he had risen from utter obscurity and become
world-famous. His sudden popularity, however, had a pernicious effect,
as it induced him to rush out more operas without giving sufficient
time to their preparation. "L'Amico Fritz," based upon the well-known
Erckmann-Chatrian story, and "I Rantzau" quickly followed "Cavalleria
Rusticana," but did not meet with its success. Last year however he
produced two operas at Milan, "Guglielmo Ratcliff" and "Silvano,"
which proved successful. Whether "Cavalleria Rusticana" is to remain
as his only hold upon popular favor, the future alone can tell; but
that he has talent of the highest order, and that he has produced an
opera whose reception has been almost unparalleled in the world of
music cannot be questioned.
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA.
"Cavalleria Rusticana," an opera in one act, words by Signori
Targioni-Tozzetti and Menasci, music by Pietro Mascagni, was written
in 1890, and was first performed at the Costanzi Theatre in Rome, May
20, of that year, with Gemma Bellinconi and Roberto Stagno in the two
principal rôles. It had its first American production in Philadelphia,
Sept. 9, 1891, with Mme. Kronold as _Santuzza_, Miss Campbell as
_Lola_, Guille as _Turridu_, Del Puente as _Alfio_, and Jeannie Teal
as _Lucia_.
The story upon which the text of "Cavalleria Rusticana" is based is
taken from a Sicilian tale by Giovanni Verga. It is peculiarly Italian
in its motive, running a swift, sure gamut of love, flirtation,
jealousy, and death,--a melodrama of a passionate and tragic sort,
amid somewhat squalid environments, that particularly lends itself to
music of Mascagni's forceful sort. The overture graphically presents
the main themes of the opera, and these themes illustrate a very
simple but strong story. Turridu, a young Sicilian peasant, arrived
home from army service, finds that his old love, Lola, during his
absence has married Alfio, a carter. To console himself he makes love
to Santuzza, who returns his passion with ardor. The inconstant
Turridu, however, soon tires of her and makes fresh advances to Lola,
who, inspired by her jealousy of Santuzza, and her natural coquetry,
smiles upon him again. The latter seeks to reclaim him, and, when she
is rudely repulsed, tells the story of Lola's perfidy to Alfio, who
challenges Turridu and kills him.
During the overture Turridu sings a charming Siciliana ("O Lola c'hai
di latti"), and the curtain rises, disclosing a Sicilian village with
a church decorated for Easter service. As the sacristan opens its
doors, the villagers appear and sing a hymn to the Madonna. A hurried
duet follows, in which Santuzza reveals to mother Lucia her grief at
the perfidy of Turridu. Her discourse is interrupted by the entrance
of Alfio, singing a rollicking whip-song ("Il cavallo scalpita") with
accompaniment of male choru
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