A SECOND BOOK OF OPERAS

by

Henry Edward Krehbiel

CONTENTS AND INDEX

CHAPTER I

BIBLICAL OPERAS

England and the Lord Chamberlain's censorship, et Gounod's "Reine deSaba, " The transmigrations of "Un Ballo in Maschera, " How composersrevamp their music, et seq, --Handel and Keiser, Mozart and Bertati, Beethoven's readaptations of his own works, Rossini and his "Barber ofSeville, " Verdi's "Nebuchadnezzar, " Rossini's "Moses, " "Samson etDalila, " Goldmark's "Konigin von Saba, " The Biblical operas ofRubinstein, Mehul's "Joseph, " Mendelssohn's "Elijah" in dramatic form, Oratorios and Lenten operas in Italy, Carissimi and Peri, Scarlatti'soratorios, Scenery and costumes in oratorios, The passage of the RedSea and "Dal tuo stellato, " Nerves wrecked by beautiful music, "Peterthe Hermit" and refractory mimic troops, "Mi manca la voce" andoperatic amenities, Operatic prayers and ballets, Goethe's criticism ofRossini's "Mose, "

CHAPTER II

BIBLE STORIES IN OPERA AND ORATORIO

Dr. Chrysander's theory of the undramatic nature of the Hebrew, hisliterature, and his life, Hebrew history and Greek mythology, Someparallels, Old Testament subjects: Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, The"Kain" of Bulthaupt and d'Albert, "Tote Augen, " Noah and the Deluge, Abraham, The Exodus, Mehal's "Joseph, " Potiphar's wife and RichardStrauss, Raimondi's contrapuntal trilogy, Nebuchadnezzar, JudasMaccabaeus, Jephtha and his Daughter, Judith, Esther, Athalia, CHAPTER III

RUBINSTEIN AND HIS "GEISTLICHE OPER"

Anton Rubinstein and his ideals, An ambition to emulate Wagner, "TheTower of Babel, " The composer's theories and strivings, et seq. --DeanStanley, "Die Makkabaer, " "Sulamith, " "Christus, " "Das verloreneParadies, " "Moses, " Action and stage directions, New Testament storiesin opera, The Prodigal Son, Legendary material and the story of theNativity, Christ dramas, Hebbel and Wagner, "Parsifal, "

CHAPTER IV

"SAMSON ET DALILA"

The predecessors of M. Saint-Saens, Voltaire and Rameau, Duprez andJoachim Raff, History of Saint-Saens's opera, et seq. --Henri Regnault, First performances, As oratorio and opera in New York, An inquiry intothe story of Samson, Samson and Herakles, The Hebrew hero in legend, Atrue type for tragedy, Mythological interpretations, Saint-Saens'sopera described, et seq. --A choral prologue, Local color, The characterof Dalila, et seq. --Milton on her wifehood and patriotism, "Printempsqui commence, " "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix, " Oriental ballet music, The catastrophe, CHAPTER V

"DIE KONIGIN VON SABA"

Meritoriousness of the book of Goldmark's opera, Its slight connectionwith Biblical story, Contents of the drama et seq. --Parallelism withWagner's "Tannhauser, " First performance in New York, Oriental luxuryin scenic outfit, Goldmark's music, CHAPTER VI

"HERODIADE"

Modern opera and ancient courtesans, Transformed morals in Massenet'sopera, A sea-change in England, Who and what was Salome? Plot of theopera, Scenic and musical adornments, Performances in New York, (footnote). 

CHAPTER VII

"LAKME"

Story of the opera, et seq. --The "Bell Song, " Some unnecessary Englishladies, First performance in New York, American history of the opera, Madame Patti, Miss Van Zandt Madame Sembrich Madame Tetrazzini, Criticism of the drama, The music, CHAPTER VIII

"PAGLIACCI"

The twin operas, "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci, " Widespreadinfluence of Mascagni's opera, It inspires an ambition in Leoncavallo, History of his opera, A tragic ending taken from real life, etseq. --Controversy between Leoncavallo and Catulle Mendes, et seq. --"LaFemme de Tabarin, " "Tabarin" operas, The "Drama Nuevo" of Estebanez andMr. Howells's "Yorick's Love, " What is a Pagliaccio? First performancesof the opera in Milan and New York, The prologue, et seq. --The operadescribed, et seq. --Bagpipes and vesper bells, Harlequin's serenade, The Minuet, The Gavotte, "Plaudite, amici, la commedia finita est!"Philip Hale on who should speak the final words, CHAPTER IX

"CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA"

How Mascagni's opera impressed the author when it was new, Attictragedy and Attic decorum, The loathsome operatic brood which itspawned, Not matched by the composer or his imitators since, Mascagni'saccount of how it came to be written, et seq. --Verga's story, etseq. --Story and libretto compared, The Siciliano, The Easter hymn, Analysis of the opera, et seq. --The prelude, Lola's stornello, Theintermezzo, "They have killed Neighbor Turiddu!"

CHAPTER X

THE CAREER OF MASCAGNI

Influence of "Cavalleria Rusticana" on operatic composition, "Santuzza, " a German sequel, Cilea's "Tilda, " Giordano's "Mala Vita, "Tasca's "A Santa Lucia, " Mascagni's history, et seq. --ComposesSchiller's "Hymn to Joy, " "Il Filanda, " "Ratcliff, " "L'Amico Fritz, " "IRantzau, " "Silvano, " "Zanetto, " "Le Maschere, " "Vistillia, " "Arnica, "Mascagni's American visit, CHAPTER XI

"IRIS"

The song of the sun, Allegory and drama, Story of the opera, etseq. --The music, et seq. --Turbid orchestration, Local color, Borrowingsfrom Meyerbeer, CHAPTER XII

"MADAMA BUTTERFLY"

The opera's ancestry, Loti's "Madame Chrysantheme, " John Luther Long'sstory, David Belasco's play, How the failure of "Naughty Anthony"suggested "Madame Butterfly, " William Furst and his music, Success ofMr. Belasco's play in New York, The success repeated in London, Broughtto the attention of Signor Puccini, Ricordi and Co. And theirlibrettists, "Madama Butterfly" fails in Milan, The first casts inMilan, Brescia, and New York, (footnote) Incidents of the fiasco, Rossini and Puccini, The opera revised, Interruption of the vigil, Story of the opera, et seq. --The hiring of wives in Japan, Experiencesof Pierre Loti, Geishas and mousmes, A changed denouement, Messager'sopera, "Madame Chrysantheme, " The end of Loti's romance, Japanesemelodies in the score, Puccini's method and Wagner's, "TheStar-Spangled Banner, " A tune from "The Mikado, " Some of the themes ofPuccini and William Furst, CHAPTER XIII

"DER ROSENKAVALIER"

The opera's predecessors, "Guntram, " "Feuersnot, " "Salome, " Oscar Wildemakes a mistaken appeal to France, His necrophilism welcomed by RichardStrauss and Berlin, Conried's efforts to produce "Salome" at theMetropolitan Opera Blouse suppressed, Hammerstein produces the work, "Elektra, " Hugo von Hoffmannsthal and Beaumarchais, Strauss and Mozart, Mozart's themes and Strauss's waltzes, Dancing in Vienna at the time ofMaria Theresa, First performance of the opera at New York, "DerRosenkavalier" and "Le Nozze di Figaro, " Criticism of the play and itsmusic, et seq. --Use of a melodic phrase from "Die Zauberflote, " Thelanguage of the libretto, The music, Cast of the first Americanperformance, (footnote)

CHAPTER XIV

"KONIGSKINDER"

Story of the play, et seq. --First production of Hummerdinck's opera andcast, Earlier performance of the work as a melodrama, Author andcomposer, Opera and melodrama in Germany, Wagnerian symbolism andmusic, "Die Meistersinger" recalled, Hero and Leander, Humperdinck'smusic, CHAPTER XV

"BORIS GODOUNOFF"

First performance of Moussorgsky's opera in New York, Participation ofthe chorus in the tragedy, Imported French enthusiasm, Vocal melody, textual accents and rhythms, Slavicism expressed in an Italiantranslation, Moussorgsky and Debussy, Political reasons for Frenchenthusiasm, Rimsky-Korsakoff's revision of the score, Russian operas inAmerica, "Nero, " "Pique Dame, " "Eugene Onegin, " Verstoffeky's "Askold'sTomb, " The nationalism of "Boris Godounoff, " The Kolydda song "Slava"and Beethoven, Lack of the feminine element in the drama, The opera'slack of coherency, Cast of the first American performance, CHAPTER XVI

"MADAME SANS-GENE" AND OTHER OPERAS BY GIORDANO

First performance of "Madame Sans-Gene, " A singing Napoleon, Royaltiesin opera, Henry the Fowler, King Mark, Verdi's Pharaoh, Herod, BorisGodounoff, Macbeth, Gustavus and some mythical kings and dukes, etseq. --Mattheson's "Boris, " Peter the Great, Sardou's play andGiordano's opera, Verdi on an operatic Bonaparte, Sardou's characters, "Andrea Chenier, " French Rhythms, "Fedora, " "Siberia, " The historicChenier, Russian local color, "Schone Minka, " "Slava, " "Ay ouchnem, "French revolutionary airs, "La Marseillaise, " "La Carmagnole, " "Ca ira, "

CHAPTER XVII

TWO OPERAS BY WOLF-FERRARI

The composer's operas first sung in their original tongue in America, First performances of "Le Donne Curiose, " "Il Segreto di Susanna, " "IGiojelli della Madonna, " "L'Amore Medico, " Story and music of "Le DonneCuriose, " Methods and apparatus of Mozart's day, Wolf-Ferrari'sTeutonism, Goldoni paraphrased, Nicolai and Verdi, The German versionof "Donne Curiose, " Musical motivi in the opera, Rameau's "La Poule, "Cast of the first performance in New York, (footnote)--Naples andopera, "I Giojelli della Madonna, " et seq. --Erlanger's "Aphrodite, "Neapolitan folksongs, Wolf-Ferrari's individuality, His "Vita Nuova, "First performance in America of "I Giojelli, "

CHAPTER I

BIBLICAL OPERAS

Whether or not the English owe a grudge to their Lord Chamberlain fordepriving them of the pleasure of seeing operas based on Biblicalstories I do not know. If they do, the grudge cannot be a deep one, forit is a long time since Biblical operas were in vogue, and in the caseof the very few survivals it has been easy to solve the difficulty andsalve the conscience of the public censor by the simple device ofchanging the names of the characters and the scene of action if theworks are to be presented on the stage, or omitting scenery, costumesand action and performing them as oratorios. In either case, wheneverthis has been done, however, it has been the habit of critics to makemerry at the expense of my Lord Chamberlain and the puritanicalness ofthe popular spirit of which he is supposed to be the officialembodiment, and to discourse lugubriously and mayhap profoundly on theperversion of composers' purposes and the loss of things essential tothe lyric drama. 

It may be heretical to say so, but is it not possible that LordChamberlain and Critic have both taken too serious a view of thematter? There is a vast amount of admirable material in the Bible(historical, legendary or mythical, as one happens to regard it), whichwould not necessarily be degraded by dramatic treatment, and whichmight be made entertaining as well as edifying, as it has been made inthe past, by stage representation. Reverence for this material isneither inculcated nor preserved by shifting the scene and throwing aveil over names too transparent to effect a disguise. Moreover, whenthis is done, there is always danger that the process may involve asacrifice of the respect to which a work of art is entitled on itsmerits as such. Gounod, in collaboration with Barbier and Carre, wrotean opera entitled "La Reine de Saba. " The plot had nothing to do withthe Bible beyond the name of Sheba's Queen and King Solomon. Mr. Farnie, who used to make comic operetta books in London, adapted theFrench libretto for performance in English and called the opera"Irene. " What a title for a grand opera! Why not "Blanche" or"Arabella"? No doubt such a thought flitted through many a carelessmind unconscious that an Irene was a Byzantine Empress of the eighthcentury, who, by her devotion to its tenets, won beatification afterdeath from the Greek Church. The opera failed on the Continent as wellas in London, but if it had not been given a comic operetta flavor byits title and association with the name of the excellent Mr. Farnie, would the change in supposed time, place and people have harmed it?

A few years ago I read (with amusement, of course) of the metamorphosisto which Massenet's "Herodiade" was subjected so that it mightmasquerade for a brief space on the London stage; but when I saw theopera in New York "in the original package" (to speak commercially), Icould well believe that the music sounded the same in London, thoughJohn the Baptist sang under an alias and the painted scenes weresupposed to delineate Ethiopia instead of Palestine. 

There is a good deal of nonsensical affectation in the talk about theintimate association in the minds of composers of music, text, incident, and original purpose. "Un Ballo in Maschera, " as we see itmost often nowadays, plays in Nomansland; but I fancy that its musicwould sound pretty much the same if the theatre of action weretransplanted back to Sweden, whence it came originally, or left inNaples, whither it emigrated, or in Boston, to which highlyinappropriate place it was banished to oblige the Neapolitan censor. Solong as composers have the habit of plucking feathers out of their deadbirds to make wings for their new, we are likely to remain in happy andcontented ignorance of mesalliances between music and score, until theyare pointed out by too curious critics or confessed by the author. Whatis present habit was former custom to which no kind or degree of stigmaattached. Bach did it; Handel did it; nor was either of these worthiesalways scrupulous in distinguishing between meum and tuum when it cameto appropriating existing thematic material. In their day the merit ofindividuality and the right of property lay more in the manner in whichideas were presented than in the ideas themselves. 

In 1886 I spent a delightful day with Dr. Chrysander at his home inBergedorf, near Hamburg, and he told me the story of how on oneoccasion, when Keiser was incapacitated by the vice to which he washabitually prone, Handel, who sat in his orchestra, was asked by him towrite the necessary opera. Handel complied, and his success was toogreat to leave Keiser's mind in peace. So he reset the book. BeforeKeiser's setting was ready for production Handel had gone to Italy. Hearing of Keiser's act, he secured a copy of the new setting from amember of the orchestra and sent back to Hamburg a composition based onKeiser's melodies "to show how such themes ought to be treated. " Dr. Chrysander, also, when he gave me a copy of Bertati's "Don Giovanni"libretto, for which Gazzaniga composed the music, told me that Mozarthad been only a little less free than the poet in appropriating ideasfrom the older work. 

One of the best pieces in the final scene of "Fidelio" was taken from acantata on the death of the emperor of Austria, composed by Beethovenbefore he left Bonn. The melody originally conceived for the lastmovement of the Symphony in D minor was developed into the finale ofone of the last string quartets. In fact the instances in whichcomposers have put their pieces to widely divergent purposes areinnumerable and sometimes amusing, in view of the fantastic belief thatthey are guided by plenary inspiration. The overture which Rossiniwrote for his "Barber of Seville" was lost soon after the firstproduction of the opera. The composer did not take the trouble to writeanother, but appropriated one which had served its purpose in anearlier work. Persons ignorant of that fact, but with livelyimaginations, as I have said in one of my books, ["A Book of Operas, "p. 9] have rhapsodized on its appositeness, and professed to hear in itthe whispered plottings of the lovers and the merry raillery of Rosinacontrasted with the futile ragings of her grouty guardian; but whenRossini composed this piece of music its mission was to introduce anadventure of the Emperor Aurelianus in Palmyra in the third century ofthe Christian era. Having served that purpose it became the prelude toanother opera which dealt with Queen Elizabeth of England, a monarchwho reigned some twelve hundred years after Aurelianus. Again, beforethe melody now known as that of Almaviva's cavatina had burst into theefflorescence which now distinguishes it, it came as a chorus from themouths of Cyrus and his Persians in ancient Babylon. 

When Mr. Lumley desired to produce Verdi's "Nabucodonosor" (called"Nabucco" for short) in London in 1846 he deferred to English traditionand brought out the opera as "Nino, Re d'Assyria. " I confess that Icannot conceive how changing a king of Babylon to a king of Assyriacould possibly have brought about a change one way or the other in theeffectiveness of Verdi's Italian music, but Mr. Lumley professed tohave found in the transformation reason for the English failure. At anyrate, he commented, in his "Reminiscences of the Opera, " "That theopera thus lost much of its original character, especially in the scenewhere the captive Israelites became very uninteresting Babylonians, andwas thereby shorn of one element of success present on the Continent, is undeniable. "

There is another case even more to the purpose of this presentdiscussion. In 1818 Rossini produced his opera "Mose in Egitto" inNaples. The strength of the work lay in its choruses; yet two of themwere borrowed from the composer's "Armida. " In 1822 Bochsa performed itas an oratorio at Covent Garden, but, says John Ebers in his "SevenYears of the King's Theatre, " published in 1828, "the audienceaccustomed to the weighty metal and pearls of price of Handel'scompositions found the 'Moses' as dust in the balance in comparison. ""The oratorio having failed as completely as erst did Pharaoh's host, "Ebers continues, "the ashes of 'Mose in Egitto' revived in the form ofan opera entitled 'Pietro l'Eremita. ' Moses was transformed into Peter. In this form the opera was as successful as it had been unfortunate asan oratorio. .. . 'Mose in Egitto' was condemned as cold, dull, andheavy. 'Pietro l'Eremita, ' Lord Sefton, one of the most competentjudges of the day, pronounced to be the most effective opera producedwithin his recollection; and the public confirmed the justice of theremark, for no opera during my management had such unequivocalsuccess. " [Footnote: "Seven Years of the King's Theatre, " by JohnEbers, pp. 157, 158. ] This was not the end of the opera's vicissitudes, to some of which I shall recur presently; let this suffice now:

Rossini rewrote it in 1827, adding some new music for the AcademieRoyal in Paris, and called it "Moise"; when it was revived for theCovent Garden oratorios, London, in 1833, it was not only performedwith scenery and dresses, but recruited with music from Handel'soratorio and renamed "The Israelites in Egypt; or the Passage of theRed Sea"; when the French "Moise" reached the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden, in April, 1850, it had still another name, "Zora, "though Chorley does not mention the fact in his "Thirty Years' MusicalRecollections, " probably because the failure of the opera which heloved grieved him too deeply. For a long time "Moses" occupied aprominent place among oratorios. The Handel and Haydn Society of Bostonadopted it in 1845, and between then and 1878 performed it forty-fivetimes. 

In all the years of my intimate association with the lyric drama(considerably more than the number of which Mr. Chorley has left us arecord) I have seen but one opera in which the plot adheres to theBiblical story indicated by its title. That opera is Saint-Saens's"Samson et Dalila. " I have seen others whose titles and dramatispersonae suggested narratives found in Holy Writ, but in nearly allthese cases it would be a profanation of the Book to call them Biblicaloperas. Those which come to mind are Goldmark's "Konigin von Saba, "Massenet's "Herodiade" and Richard Strauss's "Salome. " I have heard, inwhole or part, but not seen, three of the works which Rubinstein wouldfain have us believe are operas, but which are not--"Das verloreneParadies, " "Der Thurmbau zu Babel" and "Moses"; and I have a studyacquaintance with the books and scores of his "Maccabaer, " which is anopera; his "Sulamith, " which tries to be one, and his "Christus, " whichmarks the culmination of the vainest effort that a contemporarycomposer made to parallel Wagner's achievement on a different line. There are other works which are sufficiently known to me throughlibrary communion or concert-room contact to enable me to claim enoughacquaintanceship to justify converse about them and which must perforceoccupy attention in this study. Chiefest and noblest of these areRossini's "Moses" and Mehul's "Joseph. " Finally, there are a few withwhich I have only a passing or speaking acquaintance; whose faces I canrecognize, fragments of whose speech I know, and whose repute is suchthat I can contrive to guess at their hearts--such as Verdi's"Nabucodonosor" and Gounod's "Reine de Saba. "

Rossini's "Moses" was the last of the Italian operas (the last by asignificant composer, at least) which used to be composed to ease theLenten conscience in pleasure-loving Italy. Though written to be playedwith the adjuncts of scenery and costumes, it has less of action thanmight easily be infused into a performance of Mendelssohn's "Elijah, "and the epical element which finds its exposition in the choruses isfar greater than that in any opera of its time with which I amacquainted. In both its aspects, as oratorio and as opera, it harksback to a time when the two forms were essentially the same save inrespect of subject matter. It is a convenient working hypothesis totake the classic tragedy of Hellas as the progenitor of the opera. Itcan also be taken as the prototype of the Festival of the Ass, whichwas celebrated as long ago as the twelfth century in France; of themiracle plays which were performed in England at the same time; theCommedia spiritiuale of thirteenth-century Italy and the GeistlicheSchauspiele of fourteenth-century Germany. These mummeries with theiradmixture of church song, pointed the way as media of edification tothe dramatic representations of Biblical scenes which Saint Philip Neriused to attract audiences to hear his sermons in the Church of St. Maryin Vallicella, in Rome, and the sacred musical dramas came to be calledoratorios. While the camerata were seeking to revive the classic dramain Florence, Carissimi was experimenting with sacred material in Rome, and his epoch-making allegory, "La Rappresentazione dell' Anima e delCorpo, " was brought out, almost simultaneously with Peri's "Euridice, "in 1600. Putting off the fetters of plainsong, music became beautifulfor its own sake, and as an agent of dramatic expression. Hisexcursions into Biblical story were followed for a century or more bythe authors of sacra azione, written to take the place of secularoperas in Lent. The stories of Jephtha and his daughter, Hezekiah, Belshazzar, Abraham and Isaac, Jonah, Job, the Judgment of Solomon, andthe Last Judgment became the staple of opera composers in Italy andGermany for more than a century. Alessandro Scarlatti, whose name loomslarge in the history of opera, also composed oratorios; and Mr. E. J. Dent, his biographer, has pointed out that "except that the operas arein three acts and the oratorios in two, the only difference is in theabsence of professedly comic characters and of the formal statement inwhich the author protests that the words fata, dio, dieta, etc. , areonly scherzi poetici and imply nothing contrary to the Catholic faith. "Zeno and Metastasio wrote texts for sacred operas as well as profane, with Tobias, Absalom, Joseph, David, Daniel, and Sisera as subjects. 

Presently I shall attempt a discussion of the gigantic attempt made byRubinstein to enrich the stage with an art-form to which he gave adistinctive name, but which was little else than, an inflated type ofthe old sacra azione, employing the larger apparatus which moderninvention and enterprise have placed at the command of the playwright, stage manager, and composer. I am compelled to see in his projectchiefly a jealous ambition to rival the great and triumphantaccomplishment of Richard Wagner, but it is possible that he had aprescient eye on a coming time. The desire to combine pictures withoratorio has survived the practice which prevailed down to thebeginning of the nineteenth century. Handel used scenes and costumeswhen he produced his "Esther, " as well as his "Acis and Galatea, " inLondon. Dittersdorf has left for us a description of the stagedecorations prepared for his oratorios when they were performed in thepalace of the Bishop of Groswardein. Of late years there have been anumber of theatrical representations of Mendelssohn's "Elijah. " I havewitnessed as well as heard a performance of "Acis and Galatea" and beenentertained with the spectacle of Polyphemus crushing the head ofpresumptuous Acis with a stave like another Fafner while singing "Fly, thou massy ruin, fly" to the bludgeon which was playing understudy forthe fatal rock. 

This diverting incident brings me to a consideration of one of thedifficulties which stand in the way of effective stage picturescombined with action in the case of some of the most admired of thesubjects for oratorios or sacred opera. It was not the Lord Chamberlainwho stood in the way of Saint-Saens's "Samson et Dalila" in the UnitedStates for many years, but the worldly wisdom of opera managers whoshrank from attempting to stage the spectacle of the falling Temple ofDagon, and found in the work itself a plentiful lack of that dramaticmovement which is to-day considered more essential to success thanbeautiful and inspiriting music. "Samson et Dalila" was well known inits concert form when the management of the Metropolitan Opera Housefirst attempted to introduce it as an opera. It had a singleperformance in the season of 1894-1895 and then sought seclusion fromthe stage lamps for twenty years. It was, perhaps, fortunate for thework that no attempt was made to repeat it, for, though well sung andsatisfactorily acted, the toppling of the pillars of the temple, discreetly supported by too visible wires, at the conclusion made astronger appeal to the popular sense of the ridiculous than evenSaint-Saens's music could withstand. It is easy to inveigh against thenotion frivolous fribbles and trumpery trappings receive more attentionthan the fine music which ought to be recognized as the soul of thework, the vital spark which irradiates an inconsequential materialbody; but human nature has not yet freed itself sufficiently from grossclogs to attain so ideal an attitude. 

It is to a danger similar to that which threatened the original NewYork "Samson" that the world owes the most popular melody in Rossini's"Mose. " The story is old and familiar to the students of operatichistory, but will bear retelling. The plague of darkness opens theopera, the passage of the Red Sea concludes it. Rossini's stage managerhad no difficulty with the former, which demanded nothing more than thelowering of the stage lights. But he could evolve no device which couldsave the final miracle from laughter. A hilarious ending to so solemn awork disturbed the management and the librettist, Totola, who, justbefore a projected revival in Naples, a year or two after the firstproduction, came to the composer with a project for saving the thirdact. Rossini was in bed, as usual, and the poet showed him the text ofthe prayer, "Dal tuo stellato, " which he said he had written in anhour. "I will get up and write the music, " said Rossini; "you shallhave it in a quarter of an hour. " And he kept his word, whetherliterally or not in respect of time does not matter. When the opera wasagain performed it contained the chorus with its melody which providedPaganini with material for one of his sensational performances on theG-string. 

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Carpani tells the story and describes the effect upon the audiencewhich heard it for the first time. Laughter was just beginning in thepit when the public was surprised to note that Moses was about to sing. The people stopped laughing and prepared to listen. They were awed bythe beauty of the minor strain which was echoed by Aaron and then bythe chorus of Israelites. The host marched across the mimic sea andfell on its knees, and the music burst forth again, but now in themajor mode. And now the audience joined in the jubilation. The peoplein the boxes, says Carpani, stood up; they leaned over the railings;applauded; they shouted: "Bello! bello! O che bello!" Carpani adds: "Iam almost in tears when I think of this prayer. " An impressionablefolk, those Italians of less than a century ago. "Among other thingsthat can be said in praise of our hero, " remarked a physician toCarpani, amidst the enthusiasm caused by the revamped opera, "do notforget that he is an assassin. I can cite to you more than fortyattacks of nervous fever or violent convulsions on the part of youngwomen, fond to excess of music, which have no other origin than theprayer of the Hebrews in the third act with its superb change of key!"

Thus music saved the scene in Naples. When the opera was rewritten forLondon and made to tell a story about Peter the Hermit, thecorresponding scene had to be elided after the first performance. Eberstells the story: "A body of troops was supposed to pass over a bridgewhich, breaking, was to precipitate them into the water. The troopsbeing made of basketwork and pulled over the bridge by ropes, unfortunately became refractory on their passage, and very sensiblyrefused, when the bridge was about to give way, to proceed any further;consequently when the downfall of the arches took place the basket menremained very quietly on that part of the bridge which was leftstanding, and instead of being consigned to the waves had nearly beenset on fire. The audience, not giving the troops due credit for theirprudence, found no little fault with their compliance with the law ofself-preservation. In the following representations of the opera thebridge and basket men which, en passant (or en restant rather), hadcost fifty pounds, were omitted. " [Footnote: Op. Cit. , p. 160] When"Moise" was prepared in Paris 45, 000 francs were sunk in the Red Sea. 

I shall recur in a moment to the famous preghiera but, having Ebers'book before me, I see an anecdote so delightfully illustrative of theproverbial spirit of the lyric theatre that I cannot resist thetemptation to repeat it. In the revised "Moses" made for Paris thereoccurs a quartet beginning "Mi manca la voce" ("I lack voice") whichChorley describes as "a delicious round. " Camporese had to utter thewords first and no sooner had she done so than Ronzi di Begnis, in awhisper, loud enough to be heard by her companion, made the comment "Evero!" ("True!")--"a remark, " says Mr. Ebers, "which produced a retortcourteous somewhat more than verging on the limit of decorum, thoughnot proceeding to the extremity asserted by rumor, which would havebeen as inconsistent with propriety as with the habitual dignity andself-possession of Camporese's demeanor. "

Somebody, I cannot recall who, has said that the success of "Dal tuostellato" set the fashion of introducing prayers into operas. Whetherthis be true or not, it is a fact that a prayer occurs in four of theoperas which Rossini composed for the Paris Grand Opera and that theformula is become so common that it may be set down as an operaticconvention, a convention, moreover, which even the iconoclast Wagnerleft undisturbed. One might think that the propriety of prayer in areligious drama would have been enforced upon the mind of a classicistlike Goethe by his admiration for the antique, but it was the fact thatRossini's opera showed the Israelites upon their knees in supplicationto God that set the great German poet against "Mose. " In a conversationrecorded by Eckermann as taking place in 1828, we hear him uttering hisobjection to the work: "I do not understand how you can separate andenjoy separately the subject and the music. You pretend here that thesubject is worthless, but you are consoled for it by a feast ofexcellent music. I wonder that your nature is thus organized that yourear can listen to charming sounds while your sight, the most perfect ofyour senses, is tormented by absurd objects. You will not deny thatyour 'Moses' is in effect very absurd. The curtain is raised and peopleare praying. This is all wrong. The Bible says that when you pray youshould go into your chamber and close the door. Therefore, there shouldbe no praying in the theatre. As for me, I should have arranged awholly different 'Moses. ' At first I should have shown the children ofIsrael bowed down by countless odious burdens and suffering from thetyranny of the Egyptian rulers. Then you would have appreciated moreeasily what Moses deserved from his race, which he had delivered from ashameful oppression. " "Then, " says Mr. Philip Hale, who directed myattention to this interesting passage, "Goethe went on to reconstructthe whole opera. He introduced, for instance, a dance of the Egyptiansafter the plague of darkness was dispelled. "

May not one criticise Goethe? If he so greatly reverenced prayer, according to its institution under the New Dispensation, why did he notshow regard also for the Old and respect the verities of historysufficiently to reserve his ballet till after the passage of the RedSea, when Moses celebrated the miracle with a song and "Miriam, theprophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and allthe women went out after her with timbrels and with dances"?

CHAPTER II

BIBLE STORIES IN OPERA AND ORATORIO

It was the fond belief of Dr. Chrysander, born of his deep devotion toHandel, in whose works he lived and moved and had his being, that theheroic histories of the Jews offered no fit material for dramaticrepresentation. In his view the Jews never created dramatic poetry, partly because of the Mosaic prohibition against plastic delineation oftheir Deity, partly because the tragic element, which was so potent aninfluence in the development of the Greek drama, was wanting in theirheroes. The theory that the Song of Songs, that canticle of canticlesof love, was a pastoral play had no lodgment in his mind; the poemseemed less dramatic to him than the Book of Job. The former sprangfrom the idyllic life of the northern tribes and reflected that life;the latter, much more profound in conception, proved by its form thatthe road to a real stage-play was insurmountably barred to the Hebrewpoet. What poetic field was open to him then? Only the hymning of aDeity, invisible, omnipresent and omnipotent, the swelling call tocombat for the glory of God against an inimical world, and thecelebration of an ideal consisting in a peaceful, happy existence inthe Land of Promise under God's protecting care. This God presentedHimself occasionally as a militant, all-powerful warrior, but only inmoments when the fortunes of His people were critically at issue. Thesemoments, however, were exceptional and few; as a rule, God manifestedHimself in prophecy, through words and music. The laws were promulgatedin song; so were the prophetic promises, denunciations, and calls torepentance; and there grew up a magnificent liturgical service in thetemple. 

Hebrew poetry, epic and lyrical, was thus antagonistic to the drama. So, also, Dr. Chrysander contends, was the Hebrew himself. Not only hadhe no predilection for plastic creation, his life was not dramatic inthe sense illustrated in Greek tragedy. He lived a care-free, sensuousexistence, and either fell under righteous condemnation for histransgressions or walked in the way prescribed of the Lord and foundrest at last in Abraham's bosom. His life was simple; so were hisstrivings, his longings, his hopes. Yet when it came to the defence orcelebration of his spiritual possessions his soul was filled with sucha spirit of heroic daring, such a glow of enthusiasm, as are not to beparalleled among another of the peoples of antiquity. He thus became afit subject for only one of the arts--music; in this art for only oneof its spheres, the sublime, the most appropriate and efficient vehicleof which is the oratorio. 

One part of this argument seems to me irrelevant; the other not firmlyfounded in fact. It does not follow that because the Greek conscienceevolved the conceptions of rebellious pride and punitive Fate while theHebrew conscience did not, therefore the Greeks were the predestinedcreators of the art-form out of which grew the opera and the Hebrews ofthe form which grew into the oratorio. Neither is it true that becausea people are not disposed toward dramatic creation themselves they cannot, or may not, be the cause of dramatic creativeness in others. Dr. Chrysander's argument, made in a lecture at the Johanneum in Hamburg in1896, preceded an analysis of Handel's Biblical oratorios in theirrelation to Hebrew history, and his exposition of that history as heunfolded it chronologically from the Exodus down to the Maccabaeanperiod was in itself sufficient to furnish many more fit operatic plotsthan have yet been written. Nor are there lacking in these stories someof the elements of Greek legend and mythology which were themainsprings of the tragedies of Athens. The parallels are striking:Jephtha's daughter and Iphigenia; Samson and his slavery and theservitude of Hercules and Perseus; the fate of Ajax and other heroesmade mad by pride, and the lycanthropy of Nebuchadnezzar, of whosevanity Dr. Hanslick once reminded Wagner, warning him against the fateof the Babylonian king who became like unto an ox, "ate grass and wascomposed by Verdi"; think reverently of Alcestis and the Christiandoctrine of atonement!

The writers of the first Biblical operas sought their subjects as farback in history, or legend, as the written page permitted. Theilecomposed an "Adam and Eve" in 1678; but our first parents never becamepopular on the serious stage. Perhaps the fearful soul of thetheatrical costumer was frightened and perplexed by the problem whichthe subject put up to him. Haydn introduced them into his oratorio "TheCreation, " but, as the custom goes now, the third part of the work, inwhich they appear, is frequently, if not generally omitted inperformance. Adam, to judge by the record in Holy Writ, made anuneventful end: "And all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred andthirty years: and he died"; but this did not prevent Lesueur fromwriting an opera on his death ten years after Haydn's oratorio had itsfirst performance. He called it "La Mort d'Adam et son Apotheose, " andit involved him in a disastrous quarrel with the directors of theConservatoire and the Academie. Pursuing the search chronologically, the librettists next came upon Cain and Abel, who offered a morefruitful subject for dramatic and musical invention. We know verylittle about the sacred operas which shared the list with works basedon classical fables and Roman history in the seventeenth and eighteenthcenturies; inasmuch, however, as they were an outgrowth of the piousplays of the Middle Ages and designed for edifying consumption in Lent, it is likely that they adhered in their plots pretty close to theBiblical accounts. I doubt if the sentimental element which was invogue when Rossini wrote "Mose in Egitto" played much of a role in suchan opera as Johann Philipp Fortsch's "Kain und Abel; oder derverzweifelnde Brudermorder, " which was performed in Hamburg in 1689, oreven in "Abel's Tod, " which came along in 1771. The first fratricidalmurder seems to have had an early and an enduring fascination fordramatic poets and composers. Metastasio's "La Morte d'Abele, " set byboth Caldara and Leo in 1732, remained a stalking-horse for composersdown to Morlacchi in 1820. One of the latest of Biblical operas is the"Kain" of Heinrich Bulthaupt and Eugen d'Albert. This opera and a laterlyric drama by the same composer, "Tote Augen" (under which title acasual reader would never suspect that a Biblical subject was lurking), call for a little attention because of their indication of a possibledrift which future dramatists may follow in treating sacred story. 

Wicked envy and jealousy were not sufficient motives in the eyes ofBulthaupt and d'Albert for the first fratricide; there must be aninfusion of psychology and modern philosophy. Abel is an optimist, anidealist, a contented dreamer, joying in the loveliness of life andnature; Cain, a pessimist, a morose brooder, for whom life contained nobeautiful illusions. He gets up from his couch in the night to questionthe right of God to create man for suffering. He is answered byLucifer, who proclaims himself the benefactor of the family in havingrescued them from the slothful existence of Eden and given them aRedeemer. The devil discourses on the delightful ministrations of thatRedeemer, whose name is Death. In the morning Abel arises and as heoffers his sacrifice he hymns the sacred mystery of life and turns adeaf ear to the new-found gospel of his brother. An inspiring thoughtcomes to Cain; by killing Abel and destroying himself he will savefuture generations from the sufferings to which they are doomed. Withthis benevolent purpose in mind he commits the murder. The blow hasscarcely been struck before a multitude of spirit-voices call his nameand God thunders the question: "Where is Abel, thy brother?" Adam comesfrom his cave and looks upon the scene with horror. Now Cain realizesthat his work is less than half done: he is himself still alive and sois his son Enoch. He rushes forward to kill his child, but the motherthrows herself between, and Cain discovers that he is not strong-willedenough to carry out his design. God's curse condemns him to eternalunrest, and while the elements rage around him Cain goes forth into themountain wilderness. 

Herr Bulthaupt did not permit chronology to stand in the way of hisaction, but it can at least be said for him that he did not profane theBook as Herr Ewers, Mr. D'Albert's latest collaborator, did when heturned a story of Christ's miraculous healing of a blind woman into asensational melodrama. In the precious opera, "Tote Augen" ("DeadEyes"), brought out in March, 1916, in Dresden, Myrocle, the blindwoman, is the wife of Arcesius, a Roman ambassador in Jerusalem. Neverhaving seen him, Myrocle believes her husband to be a paragon ofbeauty, but he is, in fact, hideous of features, crook-backed, andlame; deformed in mind and heart, too, for he has concealed the truthfrom her. Christ is entering Jerusalem, and Mary of Magdala leadsMyrocle to him, having heard of the miracles which he performs, and heopens the woman's eyes at the moment that the multitude is shouting itshosannahs. The first man who fills the vision of Myrocle is Galba, handsome, noble, chivalrous, who had renounced the love he bore herbecause she was the wife of his friend. In Galba the woman believes shesees the husband whom in her fond imagination she had fitted out withthe charms of mind and person which his friend possesses. She throwsherself into his arms, and he does not repel her mistaken embraces; butthe misshapen villain throws himself upon the pair and strangles hisfriend to death. A slave enlightens the mystified woman; the murderer, not the dead hero at his feet, is her husband. Singularly enough, shedoes not turn from him with hatred and loathing, but looks upon himwith a great pity. Then she turns her eyes upon the sun, which Christhad said should not set until she had cursed him, and gazes into itssearing glow until her sight is again dead. Moral: it is sinful to lovethe loveliness of outward things; from the soul must come salvation. Asif she had never learned the truth, she returns to her wifely love forArcesius. The story is as false to nature as it is sacrilegious; itstrumpery theatricalism is as great a hindrance to a possible return ofBiblical opera as the disgusting celebration of necrophilism in RichardStrauss's "Salome. "

In our historical excursion we are still among the patriarchs, and thewhole earth is of one language and of one speech. Noah, the ark, andthe deluge seem now too prodigious to be essayed by opera makers, but, apparently, they did not awe the Englishman Edward Eccleston (orEggleston), who is said to have produced an opera, "Noah's Flood, orthe Destruction of the World, " in London in 1679, nor Seyfried, whose"Libera me" was sung at Beethoven's funeral, and who, besides Biblicaloperas entitled "Saul, " "Abraham, " "The Maccabees, " and "The Israelitesin the Desert, " brought out a "Noah" in Vienna in 1818. Halevy left anunfinished opera, "Noe, " which Bizet, who was his son-in-law, completed. Of oratorios dealing with the deluge I do not wish to speakfurther than to express my admiration for the manner in whichSaint-Saens opened the musical floodgates in "Le Deluge. "

On the plain in the Land of Shinar the families of the sons of Noahbuilded them a city and a tower whose top they arrogantly hoped mightreach unto heaven. But the tower fell, the tongues of the people wereconfounded, and the people were scattered abroad on the face of theearth. Rubinstein attempted to give dramatic representation to thetremendous incident, and to his effort and vain dream I shall revert inthe next chapter of this book. Now I must on with the history of thepatriarchs. The story of Abraham and his attempted offering of Isaachas been much used as oratorio material, and Joseph Elsner, Chopin'steacher, brought out a Polish opera, "Ofiara Abrama, " at Warsaw in 1827. 

A significant milestone in the history of the Hebrews as well asBiblical operas has now been reached. The sojourn of the Jews in Egyptand their final departure under the guidance of Moses have alreadyoccupied considerable attention in this study. They provided materialfor the two operas which seem to me the noblest of their kind--Mehul's"Joseph" and Rossini's "Mose in Egitto. " Mehul's opera, more than adecade older than Rossini's, still holds a place on the stages ofFrance and Germany, and this despite the fact that it foregoes twofactors which are popularly supposed to be essential to operaticsuccess--a love episode and woman's presence and participation in theaction. The opera, which is in three acts, was brought forward at theTheatre Feydeau in Paris on February 17, 1807. It owed its origin to aBiblical tragedy entitled "Omasis, " by Baour Lormian. The subject--thesale of Joseph by his brothers into Egyptian slavery, his rise topower, his forgiveness of the wrong attempted against him, and hisprovision of a home for the people of Israel in the land of Goshen--hadlong been popular with composers of oratorios. The list of these worksbegins with Caldara's "Giuseppe" in 1722. Metastasio's "Giuseppericonosciuto" was set by half a dozen composers between 1733 and 1788. Handel wrote his English oratorio in 1743; G. A. Macfarren's wasperformed at the Leeds festival of 1877. Lormian thought it necessaryto introduce a love episode into his tragedy, but Alexander Duval, whowrote the book for Mehul's opera, was of the opinion that the diversiononly enfeebled the beautiful if austere picture of patriarchal domesticlife delineated in the Bible. He therefore adhered to tradition andcreated a series of scenes full of beauty, dignity, and pathos, simpleand strong in spite of the bombast prevalent in the literary style ofthe period. Mehul's music is marked by grandeur, simplicity, loftysentiment, and consistent severity of manner. The composer'spredilection for ecclesiastical music, created, no doubt, by the blindorganist who taught him in his childhood and nourished by his studiesand labors at the monastery under the gifted Hauser, found opportunityfor expression in the religious sentiments of the drama, and hisknowledge of plain chant is exhibited in the score "the simplicity, grandeur, and dramatic truth of which will always command theadmiration of impartial musicians, " remarks Gustave Choquet. Theenthusiasm of M. Tiersot goes further still, for he says that the musicof "Joseph" is more conspicuous for the qualities of dignity andsonority than that of Handel's oratorio. The German Hanslick, to whomthe absence from the action of the "salt of the earth, women" seemeddisastrous, nevertheless does not hesitate to institute a comparisonbetween "Joseph" and one of Mozart's latest operas. "In its mild, passionless benevolence the entire role of Joseph in Mehul's opera, " hesays, "reminds one strikingly of Mozart's 'Titus, ' and not to theadvantage of the latter. The opera 'Titus' is the work of anincomparably greater genius, but it belongs to a partly untruthful, wholly modish, tendency (that of the old opera seria), while the genreof 'Joseph' is thoroughly noble, true, and eminently dramatic. 'Joseph'has outlived 'Titus. '" [Footnote: "Die Moderne Opera, " p. 92. ] CarlMaria von Weber admired Mehul's opera greatly, and within recent yearsFelix Weingartner has edited a German edition for which he composedrecitatives to take the place of the spoken dialogue of the originalbook. 

There is no story of passion in "Joseph. " The love portrayed there isdomestic and filial; its objects are the hero's father, brothers, andcountry--"Champs eternels, Hebron, douce vallee. " It was not until ourown day that an author with a perverted sense which had already foundgratification in the stench of mental, moral, and physical decayexhaled by "Salome" and "Elektra" nosed the piquant, pungent odor ofthe episode of Potiphar's wife and blew it into the theatre. Joseph'stemptress did not tempt even the prurient taste which gave us theParisian operatic versions of the stories of Phryne, Thais, andMessalina. Richard Strauss's "Josephslegende" stands alone in musicalliterature. There is, indeed, only one reference in the records oforatorio or opera to the woman whose grovelling carnality is made thefoil of Joseph's virtue in the story as told in the Book. Thatreference is found in a singular trilogy, which was obviously writtenmore to disclose the possibilities of counterpoint than to set forththe story--even if it does that, which I cannot say; the suggestioncomes only from a title. In August, 1852, Pietro Raimondi produced anoratorio in three parts entitled, respectively, "Putifar, " "Giuseppegiusto, " and "Giacobbe, " at the Teatro Argentina, in Rome. The music ofthe three works was so written that after each had been performedseparately, with individual principal singers, choristers, andorchestras, they were united in a simultaneous performance. The successof the stupendous experiment in contrapuntal writing was so great thatthe composer fell in a faint amidst the applause of the audience anddied less than three months afterward. 

In the course of this study I have mentioned nearly all of the Biblicalcharacters who have been turned into operatic heroes. Nebuchadnezzarappeared on the stage at Hamburg in an opera of Keiser's in 1704;Ariosti put him through his bovine strides in Vienna in 1706. He wasput into a ballet by a Portuguese composer and made the butt of aFrench opera bouffe writer, J. J. Debillement, in 1871. He recurs to mymind now in connection with a witty fling at "Nabucco" made by a Frenchrhymester when Verdi's opera was produced at Paris in 1845. The noisybrass in the orchestration offended the ears of a critic, and he wrote:

 Vraiment l'affiche est dans son tort; En faux, ou devrait la poursuivre. Pourquoi nous annoncer Nabuchodonos--or Quand c'est Nabuchodonos--cuivre?

Judas Maccabaeus is one of the few heroes of ancient Israel who havesurvived in opera, Rubinstein's "Makkabaer" still having a hold, thoughnot a strong one, on the German stage. The libretto is an adaptation byMosenthal (author also of Goldmark's "Queen of Sheba") of a drama byOtto Ludwig. In the drama as well as some of its predecessors someliberties have been taken with the story as told in Maccabees II, chapter 7. The tale of the Israelitish champion of freedom and hisbrothers Jonathan and Simon, who lost their lives in the struggleagainst the tyranny of the kings of Syria, is intensely dramatic. Forstage purposes the dramatists have associated the massacre of a motherand her seven sons and the martyrdom of the aged Eleazar, who causedthe uprising of the Jews, with the family history of Judas himself. J. W. Franck produced "Die Maccabaische Mutter" in Hamburg in 1679, Ariosti composed "La Madre dei Maccabei" in 1704, Ignaz von Seyfriedbrought out "Die Makkabaer, oder Salmonaa" in 1818, and Rubinstein hisopera in Berlin on April 17, 1875. 

The romantic career of Jephtha, a natural son, banished from home, chief of a band of roving marauders, mighty captain and ninth judge ofIsrael, might have fitted out many an opera text, irrespective of thepathetic story of the sacrifice of his daughter in obedience to a vow, though this episode springs first to mind when his name is mentioned, and has been the special subject of the Jephtha operas. An Italiancomposer named Pollarolo wrote a "Jefte" for Vienna in 1692; otheroperas dealing with the history are Rolle's "Mehala, die TochterJephthas" (1784), Meyerbeer's "Jephtha's Tochter" (Munich, 1813), Generali, "Il voto di Jefte" (1827), Sanpieri, "La Figlia di Jefte"(1872). Luis Cepeda produced a Spanish opera in Madrid in 1845, and aFrench opera, in five acts and a prologue, by Monteclaire, wasprohibited, after one performance, by Cardinal de Noailles in 1832. 

Judith, the widow of Manasseh, who delivered her native city ofBethulia from the Assyrian Holofernes, lulling him to sleep with hercharms and then striking off his drunken head with a falchion, thoughan Apocryphal personage, is the most popular of Israelitish heroines. The record shows the operas "Judith und Holofernes" by LeopoldKotzeluch (1799), "Giuditta" by S. Levi (1844), Achille Peri (1860), Righi (1871), and Sarri (1875). Naumann wrote a "Judith" in 1858, Doppler another in 1870, and Alexander Seroff a Russian opera under thesame title in 1863. Martin Roder, who used to live in Boston, composeda "Judith, " but it was never performed, while George W. Chadwick's"Judith, " half cantata, half opera, which might easily be fitted forthe stage, has had to rest content with a concert performance at aWorcester (Mass. ) festival. 

The memory of Esther, the queen of Ahasuerus, who saved her people frommassacre, is preserved and her deed celebrated by the Jews in theirgracious festival of Purim. A gorgeous figure for the stage, she hasbeen relegated to the oratorio platform since the end of the eighteenthcentury. Racine's tragedy "Athalie" has called out music from AbbeVogler, Gossec, Boieldieu, Mendelssohn, and others, and a feworatorios, one by Handel, have been based on the story of the womanthrough whom idolatry was introduced into Judah; but I have no recordof any Athalia opera. 

CHAPTER III

RUBINSTEIN'S "GEISTLICHE OPER"

I have a strong belief in the essential excellence of Biblical subjectsfor the purposes of the lyric drama--at least from an historical pointof view. I can see no reason against but many reasons in favor of areturn to the stage of the patriarchal and heroic figures of the peoplewho are a more potent power in the world to-day, despite theirdispersal and loss of national unity, than they were in the days oftheir political grandeur and glory. Throughout the greater part of hiscreative career Anton Rubinstein was the champion of a similar idea. Ofthe twenty works which he wrote for the theatre, including ballets, sixwere on Biblical subjects, and to promote a propaganda which began withthe composition of "Der Thurmbau zu Babel, " in 1870, he not onlyentered the literary field, but made personal appeal for practicalassistance in both the Old World and the New. His, however, was areligious point of view, not the historical or political. It is verylikely that a racial predilection had much to do with his attitude onthe subject, but in his effort to bring religion into the service ofthe lyric stage he was no more Jew than Christian: the stories to whichhe applied his greatest energies were those of Moses and Christ. 

Much against my inclination (for Rubinstein came into my intellectuallife under circumstances and conditions which made him the strongestpersonal influence in music that I have ever felt), I have beencompelled to believe that there were other reasons besides those whichhe gave for his championship of Biblical opera. Smaller men than he, since Wagner's death, have written trilogies and dreamed of theatresand festivals devoted to performances of their works. Little wonder ifRubinstein believed that he had created, or could create, a kind ofart-work which should take place by the side of "Der Ring desNibelungen, " and have its special home like Bayreuth; and it may havebeen a belief that his project would excite the sympathetic zeal of thedevout Jew and pious Christian alike, as much as his lack of thecapacity for self-criticism, which led him like a will-o'-the-wispalong the path which led into the bogs of failure and disappointment. 

While I was engaged in writing the programme book for the musicfestival given in New York in 1881, at which "The Tower of Babel" wasperformed in a truly magnificent manner, Dr. Leopold Damrosch, theconductor of the festival, told me that Rubinstein had told him thatthe impulse to use Biblical subjects in lyrical dramas had come to himwhile witnessing a ballet based on a Bible story many years before inParis. He said that he had seldom been moved so profoundly by anyspectacle as by this ballet, and it suggested to him the propriety oftreating sacred subjects in a manner worthy of them, yet different fromthe conventional oratorio. The explanation has not gotten into thebooks, but is not inconsistent with the genesis of his Biblical operas, as related by Rubinstein in his essay on the subject printed by JosephLewinsky in his book "Vor den Coulissen, " published in 1882 after atleast three of the operas had been written. The composer's defence ofhis works and his story of the effort which he made to bring about arealization of his ideals deserve to be rehearsed in justice to hischaracter as man and artist, as well as in the interest of the worksthemselves and the subjects, which, I believe, will in the near futureoccupy the minds of composers again. 

"The oratorio, " said Rubinstein, "is an art-form which I have alwaysbeen disposed to protest against. The best-known masterpieces of thisform have, not during the study of them but when hearing themperformed, always left me cold; indeed, often positively pained me. Thestiffness of the musical and still more of the poetical form alwaysseemed to me absolutely incongruous with the high dramatic feeling ofthe subject. To see and hear gentlemen in dress coats, white cravats, yellow gloves, holding music books before them, or ladies in modern, often extravagant, toilets singing the parts of the grand, imposingfigures of the Old and New Testaments has always disturbed me to such adegree that I could never attain to pure enjoyment. Involuntarily Ifelt and thought how much grander, more impressive, vivid, and truewould be all that I had experienced in the concert-room if representedon the stage with costumes, decorations, and full action. "

The contention, said Rubinstein in effect, that Biblical subjects areill adapted to the stage beeause of their sacred character is atestimony of poverty for the theatre, which should be an agency in theservice of the highest purposes of culture. The people have alwayswanted to see stage representations of Bible incidents; witness themystery plays of the Middle Ages and the Passion Play at Oberammergauto-day. But yielding to a prevalent feeling that such representationsare a profanation of sacred history, he had conceived an appropriatetype of art-work which was to be produced in theatres to be speciallybuilt for the purpose and by companies of artists to be speciallytrained to that end. This art-work was to be called Sacred Opera(geistliche Oper), to distinguish it from secular opera, but itspurpose was to be purely artistic and wholly separate from theinterests of the Church. He developed ways and means for raising thenecessary funds, enlisting artists, overcoming the difficultiespresented by the mise en scene and the polyphonic character of thechoral music, and set forth his aim in respect of the subject-matter ofthe dramas to be a representation in chronological order of the chiefincidents described in the Old and New Testaments. He would be willingto include in his scheme Biblical operas already existing, if they werenot all, with the exception of Mehul's "Joseph, " made unfit by theirtreatment of sacred matters, especially by their inclusion of loveepisodes which brought them into the domain of secular opera. 

For years, while on his concert tours in various countries, Rubinsteinlabored to put his plan into operation. Wherever he found a publicaccustomed to oratorio performances he inquired into the possibility ofestablishing his sacred theatre there. He laid the project before theGrand Duke of Weimar, who told him that it was feasible only in largecities. The advice sent him to Berlin, where he opened his mind to theMinister of Education, von Muhler. The official had his doubts; sacredoperas might do for Old Testament stories, but not for New; moreover, such a theatre should be a private, not a governmental, undertaking. Hesought the opinion of Stanley, Dean of Westminster Abbey, who said thathe could only conceive a realization of the idea in the oldtime popularmanner, upon a rude stage at a country fair. 

For a space it looked as if the leaders of the Jewish congregations inParis would provide funds for the enterprise so far as it concerneditself with subjects taken from the Old Dispensation; but at the lastthey backed out, fearing to take the initiative in a matter likely tocause popular clamor. "I even thought of America, " says Rubinstein, "ofthe daring transatlantic impresarios, with their lust of enterprise, who might be inclined to speculate on a gigantic scale with my idea. Ihad indeed almost succeeded, but the lack of artists brought it to passthat the plans, already in a considerable degree of forwardness, had tobe abandoned. I considered the possibility of forming an association ofcomposers and performing artists to work together to carry on theenterprise materially, intellectually, and administratively; but thegreat difficulty of enlisting any considerable number of artists forthe furtherance of a new idea in art frightened me back from thispurpose also. " In these schemes there are evidences of Rubinstein'swillingness to follow examples set by Handel as well as Wagner. Theformer composed "Judas Maccabaeus" and "Alexander Balus" to please theJews who had come to his help when he made financial shipwreck with hisopera; the latter created the Richard Wagner Verein to put the Bayreuthenterprise on its feet. 

Of the six sacred operas composed by Rubinstein three may be said to bepracticable for stage representation. They are "Die Makkabaer, ""Sulamith" (based on Solomon's Song of Songs) and "Christus. " The firsthas had many performances in Germany; the second had a few performancesin Hamburg in 1883; the last, first performed as an oratorio in Berlinin 1885, was staged in Bremen in 1895. It has had, I believe, aboutfourteen representations in all. As for the other three works, "DerThurmbau zu Babel" (first performance in Konigsberg in 1870), "Dasverlorene Paradies" (Dusseldorf, 1875), and "Moses" (still awaitingtheatrical representation, I believe), it may be said of them that theyare hybrid creations which combine the oratorio and opera styles byutilizing the powers of the oldtime oratorio chorus and the modernorchestra, with the descriptive capacity of both raised to the highestpower, to illustrate an action which is beyond the capabilities of theordinary stage machinery. In the character of the forms employed in theworks there is no startling innovation; we meet the same alternation ofchorus, recitative, aria, and ensemble that we have known since theoratorio style was perfected. A change, howeer, has come over thespirit of the expression and the forms have all relaxed some of theirrigidity. In the oratorios of Handel and Haydn there are instances nota few of musical delineation in the instrumental as well as the vocalparts; but nothing in them can be thought of, so far at least as theambition of the design extends, as a companion piece to the scene inthe opera which pictures the destruction of the tower of Babel. This isas far beyond the horizon of the fancy of the old masters as it isbeyond the instrumental forces which they controlled. 

"Paradise Lost, " the text paraphrased from portions of Milton's epic, is an oratorio pure and simple. It deals with the creation of the worldaccording to the Mosaic (or as Huxley would have said, Miltonic) theoryand the medium of expression is an alternation of recitatives andchoruses, the latter having some dramatic life and a characteristicaccompaniment. It is wholly contemplative; there is nothing like actionin it. "The Tower of Babel" has action in the restricted sense in whichit enters into Mendelssohn's oratorios, and scenic effects which wouldtax the utmost powers of the modern stage-machinist who might attemptto carry them out. A mimic tower of Babel is more preposterous than amimic temple of Dagon; yet, unless Rubinstein's stage directions are tobe taken in a Pickwickian sense, we ought to listen to this music whilelooking at a stage-setting more colossal than any ever contemplated bydramatist before. We should see a wide stretch of the plain of Shinar;in the foreground a tower so tall as to give color of plausibility to aspeech which prates of an early piercing of heaven and so large as toprovide room for a sleeping multitude on its scaffoldings. Brick kilns, derricks, and all the apparatus and machinery of building should be onall hands, and from the summit of a mound should grow a giant tree, against whose trunk should hang a brazen shield to be used as a signalgong. We should see in the progress of the opera the bustling activityof the workmen, the roaring flames and rolling smoke of the brickkilns, and witness the miraculous spectacle of a man thrown into thefire and walking thence unharmed. We should see (in dissolving views)the dispersion of the races and behold the unfolding of a rainbow inthe sky. And, finally, we should get a glimpse of an open heaven andthe Almighty on His throne, and a yawning hell, with Satan and hisangels exercising their dread dominion. Can such scenes be mimickedsuccessfully enough to preserve a serious frame of mind in theobserver? Hardly. Yet the music seems obviously to have been written inthe expectation that sight shall aid hearing to quicken the fancy andemotion and excite the faculties to an appreciation of the work. 

"The Tower of Babel" has been performed upon the stage; how I cannoteven guess. Knowing, probably, that the work would be given in concertform oftener than in dramatic, Rubinstein tries to stimulate the fancyof those who must be only listeners by profuse stage directions whichare printed in the score as well as the book of words. "Moses" is inthe same case. By the time that Rubinstein had completed it heevidently realized that its hybrid character as well as its stupendousscope would stand in the way of performances of any kind. Before even aportion of its music had been heard in public, he wrote in a letter toa friend: "It is too theatrical for the concert-room and too much likean oratorio for the theatre. It is, in fact, the perfect type of thesacred opera that I have dreamed of for years. What will come of it Ido not know; I do not think it can be performed entire. As it containseight distinct parts, one or two may from time to time be given eitherin a concert or on the stage. "

America was the first country to act on the suggestion of a fragmentaryperformance. The first scene was brought forward in New York by WalterDamrosch at a public rehearsal and concert of the Symphony Society (theOratorio Society assisting) on January 18 and 19, 1889. The third scenewas performed by the German Liederkranz, under Reinhold L. Herman, onJanuary 27 of the same year. The third and fourth scenes were in thescheme of the Cincinnati Music Festival, Theodore Thomas, conductor, onMay 25, 1894. 

Each of the eight scenes into which the work is divided deals with anepisode in the life of Israel's lawgiver. In the first scene we havethe incident of the finding of the child in the bulrushes; in thesecond occurs the oppression of the Israelites by the Egyptiantaskmasters, the slaying of one of the overseers by Moses, who, tillthen regarded as the king's son, now proclaims himself one of theoppressed race. The third scene discloses Moses protecting Zipporah, daughter of Jethro, a Midianitish priest, from a band of maraudingEdomites, his acceptance of Jethro's hospitality and the scene of theburning bush and the proclamation of his mission. Scene IV deals withthe plagues, those of blood, hail, locusts, frogs, and vermin beingdelineated in the instrumental introduction to the part, the actionbeginning while the land is shrouded in the "thick darkness that mightbe felt. " The Egyptians call upon Osiris to dispel the darkness, butare forced at last to appeal to Moses. He demands the liberation of hispeople as the price to be paid for the removal of the plague; receivinga promise from Pharaoh, he utters a prayer ending with "Let there belight. " The result is celebrated in a brilliant choral acclamation ofthe returning sun. The scene has a parallel in Rossini's opera. Pharaohnow equivocates; he will free the sons of Jacob, but not the women, children, or chattels. Moses threatens punishment in the death of allof Egypt's first-born, and immediately solo and chorus voices bewailthe new affliction. When the king hears that his son is dead he giveshis consent, and the Israelites depart with an ejaculation of thanks toJehovah. The passage of the Red Sea, Miriam's celebration of thatmiracle, the backsliding of the Israelites and their worship of thegolden calf, the reception of the Tables of the Law, the battle betweenthe Israelites and Modbites on the threshold of the Promised Land, andthe evanishment and apotheosis of Moses are the contents of theremainder of the work. 

It is scarcely to be wondered at that the subjects which operacomposers have found adaptable to their uses in the New Testament arevery few compared with those offered by the Old. The books written bythe evangelists around the most stupendous tragical story of all timeset forth little or nothing (outside of the birth, childhood, teachings, miracles, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth)which could by any literary ingenuity be turned into a stage playexcept the parables with which Christ enforced and illustrated Hissermons. The sublime language and imagery of the Apocalypse havefurnished forth the textual body of many oratorios, but it stilltranscends the capacity of mortal dramatist. 

In the parable of the Prodigal Son there is no personage whosepresentation in dramatic garb could be looked upon as a profanation ofthe Scriptures. It is this fact, probably, coupled with its profoundlybeautiful reflection of human nature, which has made it a popularsubject with opera writers. There was an Italian "Figliuolo Prodigo" asearly as 1704, composed by one Biffi; a French melodrama, "L'EnfantProdigue, " by Morange about 1810; a German piece of similar characterby Joseph Drechsler in Vienna in 1820. Pierre Gaveaux, who composed"Leonore, ou l'Amour Conjugal, " which provided Beethoven with his"Fidelio, " brought out a comic opera on the subject of the Prodigal Sonin 1811, and Berton, who had also dipped into Old Testament story in anoratorio, entitled "Absalon, " illustrated the parable in a ballet. Themost recent settings of the theme are also the most significant:Auber's five-act opera "L'Enfant Prodigue, " brought out in Paris in1850, and Ponchielli's "Il Figliuolo Prodigo, " in four acts, which hadits first representation at La Scala in 1880. 

The mediaeval mysteries were frequently interspersed with choral songs, for which the liturgy of the Church provided material. If we choose tolook upon them as incipient operas or precursors of that art-form wemust yet observe that their monkish authors, willing enough to trickout the story of the Nativity with legendary matter drawn from theApocryphal New Testament, which discloses anything but a reverentialattitude toward the sublime tragedy, nevertheless stood in such awebefore the spectacle of Calvary that they deemed it wise to leave itsdramatic treatment to the church service in the Passion Tide. In thatservice there was something approaching to characterization in themanner of the reading by the three deacons appointed to deliver, respectively, the narrative, the words of Christ, and the utterances ofthe Apostles and people; and it may be--that this and the liturgicalsolemnities of Holy Week were reverently thought sufficient by them andthe authors of the first sacred operas. Nevertheless, we have Reiser's"Der Blutige und Sterbende Jesus, " performed at Hamburg, andMetastasio's "La Passione di Gesu Christi, " composed first by Caldara, which probably was an oratorio. 

Earlier than these was Theile's "Die Geburt Christi, " performed inHamburg in 1681. The birth of Christ and His childhood (there was anoperatic representation of His presentation in the Temple) weresubjects which appealed more to the writers of the rude plays whichcatered to the popular love for dramatic mummery than did Hiscrucifixion. I am speaking now more specifically of lyric dramas, butit is worthy of note that in the Coventry mysteries, as Hone points outin the preface to his book, "Ancient Mysteries Described, " [Footnote:"Ancient Mysteries Described, especially the English Miracle PlaysFounded on Apocryphal New Testament Story, " London, 1823. ] there areeight plays, or pageants, which deal with the Nativity as related inthe canon and the pseudo-gospels. In them much stress was laid upon thesuspicions of the Virgin Mother's chastity, for here was material thatwas good for rude diversion as well as instruction in righteousness. 

That Rubinstein dared to compose a Christ drama must be looked upon asproof of the profound sincerity of his belief in the art-form which hefondly hoped he had created; also, perhaps, as evidence of his artisticingenuousness. Only a brave or naive mind could have calmlycontemplated a labor from which great dramatists, men as great asHebbel, shrank back in alarm. After the completion of "Lohengrin"Wagner applied himself to the creation of a tragedy which he called"Jesus of Nazareth. " We know his plan in detail, but he abandoned itafter he had offered his sketches to a French poet as the basis of alyric drama which he hoped to write for Paris. He confesses that he wascurious to know what the Frenchman would do with a work the stageproduction of which would "provoke a thousand frights. " He himself wasunwilling to stir up such a tempest in Germany; instead, he put hissketches aside and used some of their material in his "Parsifal. "

Wagner ignored the religious, or, let us say, the ecclesiastical, pointof view entirely in "Jesus of Nazareth. " His hero was to have been, asI have described him elsewhere, [Footnote: "A Book of Operas, " p. 288. ]"a human philosopher who preached the saving grace of Love and soughtto redeem his time and people from the domination of conventionallaw--the offspring of selfishness. His philosophy was socialism imbuedby love. " Rubinstein proceeded along the lines of history, or orthodoxbelief, as unreservedly in his "Christus" as he had done in his"Moses. " The work may be said to have brought his creative activitiesto a close, although two compositions (a set of six pianoforte piecesand an orchestral suite) appear in his list of numbered works after thesacred opera. He died on November 20, 1894, without having seen a stagerepresentation of it. Nor did he live to see a public theatricalperformance of his "Moses, " though he was privileged to witness aprivate performance arranged at the German National Theatre in Pragueso that he might form an opinion of its effectiveness. The public hasnever been permitted to learn anything about the impression which thework made. 

On May 25, 1895, a series of representations of "Christus" was begun inBremen, largely through the instrumentality of Professor Bulthaupt, apotent and pervasive personage in the old Hanseatic town. He was notonly a poet and the author of the book of this opera and of some ofBruch's works, but also a painter, and his mural decorations in theBremen Chamber of Commerce are proudly displayed by the citizens of thetown. It was under the supervision of the painter-poet that the Bremenrepresentations were given and, unless I am mistaken, he painted thescenery or much of it. One of the provisions of the performances wasthat applause was prohibited out of reverence for the sacred characterof the scenes, which were as frankly set forth as at Oberammergau. Thecontents of the tragedy in some scenes and an epilogue briefly outlinedare these: The first scene shows the temptation of Christ in thewilderness, where the devil "shewed unto him all the kingdoms of theworld in a moment of time. " This disclosure is made by a series ofscenes, each opening for a short time in the background--castles, palaces, gardens, mountains of gold, and massive heaps of earth'streasures. In the second scene John the Baptist is seen and heardpreaching on the banks of the Jordan, in whose waters he baptizesJesus. This scene at the Bremen representations was painted fromsketches made by Herr Handrich in Palestine, as was also that of the"Sermon on the Mount" and "The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, " whichform the subject of the next part. The fourth tableau shows theexpulsion of the money changers from the Temple; the fifth the LastSupper, with the garden of Gethsemane as a background; the sixth thetrial and the last the crucifixion. Here, as if harking back to his"Tower of Babel, " Rubinstein brings in pictures of heaven and hell, with angels and devils contemplating the catastrophe. The proclamationof the Gospel to the Gentiles by St. Paul is the subject of theepilogue. 

CHAPTER IV

"SAMSON ET DALILA"

There are but two musical works based on the story of Samson on thecurrent list to-day, Handel's oratorio and Saint-Saens's opera; butlyric drama was still in its infancy when the subject first took holdof the fancy of composers and it has held it ever since. The earliestworks were of the kind called sacred operas in the books and are spokenof as oratorios now, though they were doubtless performed with sceneryand costumes and with action of a sort. Such were "Il Sansone" byGiovanni Paola Colonna (Bologna, 1677), "Sansone accecato da Filistri"by Francesco Antonio Uri (Venice, about 1700), "Simson" by ChristophGraupner (Hamburg, 1709), "Simson" by Georg von Pasterwitz (about1770), "Samson" by J. N. Lefroid Mereaux (Paris, 1774), "Simson" byJohann Heinrich Rolle (about 1790), "Simson" by Franz Tuczek (Vienna, 1804), and "Il Sansone" by Francesco Basili (Naples, 1824). Two Frenchoperas are associated with great names and have interesting histories. Voltaire wrote a dramatic text on the subject at the request of LaPopeliniere, the farmer-general, who, as poet, musician, and artist, exercised a tremendous influence in his day. Rameau was in his serviceas household clavecinist and set Voltaire's poem. The authors lookedforward to a production on the stage of the Grand Opera, where at leasttwo Biblical operas, an Old Testament "Jephte" and a New Testament"Enfant prodigue" were current; but Rameau had powerful enemies, andthe opera was prohibited on the eve of the day on which it was to havebeen performed. The composer had to stomach his mortification as besthe could; he put some of his Hebrew music into the service of hisPersian "Zoroastre". The other French Samson to whom I have re ferredhad also to undergo a sea-change like unto Rameau's, Rossini's Moses, and Verdi's Nebuchadnezzar. Duprez, who was ambitious to shine as acomposer as well as a singer (he wrote no less than eight operas andalso an oratorio, "The Last Judgment"), tried his hand on a Samsonopera and succeeded in enlisting the help of Dumas the elder in writingthe libretto. When he was ready to present it at the door of the GrandOpera the Minister of Fine Arts told him that it was impracticable, asthe stage-setting of the last act alone would cost more than 100, 000francs, Duprez then followed the example set with Rossini's "Mose" inLondon and changed the book to make it tell a story of the crusadeswhich he called "Zephora". Nevertheless the original form was restoredin German and Italian translations of the work, and it had concertperformances in 1857. To Joachim Raff was denied even this poorcomfort. He wrote a German "Simson" between 1851 and 1857. Theconductor at Darmstadt to whom it was first submitted rejected it onthe ground that it was too difficult for his singers. Raff then gave itto Liszt, with whom he was sojourning at Weimar, and who had taken pityon his "Konig Alfred"; but the tenor singer at the Weimar opera saidthe music was too high for the voice. Long afterward Wagner's friend, Schnorr von Carolsfeld, saw the score in the hands of the composer. Theheroic stature of the hero delighted him, and his praise moved Raff torevise the opera; but before this had been done Schnorr died of thecold contracted while creating the role of Wagner's Tristan at Munichin 1865. Thus mournfully ended the third episode. As late as 1882 Raffspoke of taking the opera in hand again, but though he may have done sohis death found the work unperformed and it has not yet seen the lightof the stage-lamps. 

Saint-Saens's opera has also passed through many vicissitudes, but hassuccumbed to none and is probably possessed of more vigorous life nowthan it ever had. It is the recognized operatic masterpiece of the mostresourceful and fecund French musician since Berlioz. Saint-Saens beganthe composition of "Samson et Dalila" in 1869. The author of the book, Ferdinand Lemaire, was a cousin of the composer. Before the breakingout of the Franco-Prussian War the score was so far on the way tocompletion that it was possible to give its second act a private trial. This was done, an incident of the occasion-which afterward introducedone element of pathos in its history-being the singing of the part ofSamson by the painter Henri Regnault, who soon after lost his life inthe service of his country. A memorial to him and the friendship whichexisted between him and the composer is the "Marche Heroique, " whichbears the dead man's name on its title-page. Toward the end of 1872 theopera was finished. For two years the score rested in the composer'sdesk. Then the second act was again brought forth for trial, this timeat the country home of Mme. Viardot, at Croissy, the illustrioushostess singing the part of Dalila. In 1875 the first act was performedin concert style by M. Edouard Colonne in Paris. Liszt interestedhimself in the opera and secured its acceptance at the Grand DucalOpera House of Weimar, where Eduard Lassen brought it out on December2, 1877. Brussels heard it in 1878; but it did not reach one of thetheatres of France until March 3, 1890, when Rouen produced it at itsTheatre des Arts under the direction of M. Henri Verdhurt. It tooknearly seven months more to reach Paris, where the first representationwas at the Eden Theatre on October 31 of the same year. Two yearslater, after it had been heard in a number of French and Italianprovincial theatres, it was given at the Academie Nationale de Musiqueunder the direction of M. Colonne. The part of Dalila was taken by Mme. Deschamps-Jehin, that of Samson by M. Vergnet, that of the High Priestby M. Lassalle. Eight months before this it had been performed as anoratorio by the Oratorio Society of New York. There were twoperformances, on March 25 and 26, 1892, the conductor being Mr. WalterDamrosch and the principal singers being Frau Marie Ritter-Goetze, Sebastian Montariol, H. E. Distelhurst, Homer Moore, Emil Fischer, andPurdon Robinson. London had heard the work twice as an oratorio beforeit had a stage representation there on April 26, 1909, but thisperformance was fourteen years later than the first at the MetropolitanOpera House on February 8, 1895. The New York performance wasscenically inadequate, but the integrity of the record demands that thecast be given here: Samson, Signor Tamagno; Dalila, Mme. Mantelli; HighPriest, Signor Campanari; Abimelech and An Old Hebrew, M. Plancon;First Philistine, Signor Rinaldini; Second Philistme, Signor deVachetti; conductor, Signor Mancinelli. The Metropolitan management didnot venture upon a repetition until the opening night of the season1915-1916, when its success was such that it became an active factor inthe repertory of the establishment; but by that time it had been madefairly familiar to the New York public by performances at the ManhattanOpera House under the management of Mr. Oscar Hammerstein, the first ofwhich took place on November 13, 1908. Signor Campanini conducted andthe cast embraced Mme. Gerville-Reache as Dalila, Charles Dalmores asSamson, and M. Dufranne as High Priest. The cast at the MetropolitanOpera House's revival of the opera on November 15, 1915, was as follows:Dalila, Mme. Margarete Matzenauer; Samson, Signor Enrico Caruso; HighPriest, Signor Pasquale Amato; Abimelech, Herr Carl Schlegel; An OldHebrew, M. Leon Rothier; A Philistine Messenger, Herr Max Bloch; FirstPhilistine, Pietro Audisio; Second Philistine, Vincenzo Reschiglian;conductor, Signor Polacco. 

It would be a curious inquiry to try to determine the source of thefascination which the story of Manoah's son has exerted upon mankindfor centuries. It bears a likeness to the story of the son of Zeus andAlcmene, and there are few books on mythology which do not draw aparallel between the two heroes. Samson's story is singularly brief. For twenty years he "judged Israel, " but the Biblical history whichdeals with him consists only of an account of his birth, a recital ofthe incidents in which he displayed his prodigious strength and valor, the tale of his amours, and, at the end, the account of his tragicaldestruction, brought about by the weak element in his character. 

Commentators have been perplexed by the tale, irrespective of theadornments which it has received at the hands of the Talmudists. IsSamson a Hebrew form of the conception personified by the GreekHerakles? Is he a mythical creature, born in the human imagination ofprimitive nature worship--a variant of the Tyrian sun-god Shemesh, whose name his so curiously resembles? [In Hebrew he is calledShimshon, and the sun shemesh. ] Was he something more than a man ofextraordinary physical strength and extraordinary moral weakness, whosepatriotic virtues and pathetic end have kept his memory alive throughthe ages? Have a hundred generations of men to whom the story ofHerakles has appeared to be only a fanciful romance, the product ofthat imagination heightened by religion which led the Greeks to exalttheir supreme heroes to the extent of deification, persisted in hearingand telling the story of Samson with a sympathetic interest whichbetrays at least a sub-conscious belief in its verity? Is the storyonly a parable enforcing a moral lesson which is as old as humanity? Ifso, how got it into the canonical Book of Judges, which, with all itsmythical and legendary material, seems yet to contain a largesubstratum of unquestionable history?

There was nothing of the divine essence in Samson as the Hebrewsconceived him, except that spirit of God with which he was directlyendowed in supreme crises. There is little evidence of his possessionof great wisdom, but strong proof of his moral and religious laxity. Hesinned against the laws of Israel's God when he took a Philistinewoman, an idolater, to wife; he sinned against the moral law when hevisited the harlot at Gaza. He was wofully weak in character when heyielded to the blandishments of Delilah and wrought his own undoing, aswell as that of his people. The disgraceful slavery into which Heraklesfell was not caused by the hero's incontinence or uxoriousness, but apunishment for crime, in that he had in a fit of madness killed hisfriend Iphitus. And the three years which he spent as the slave ofOmphale were punctuated by larger and better deeds than those of Samsonin like situation--bursting the new cords with which the men of Judahhad bound him and the green withes and new ropes with which Delilahshackled him. The record that Samson "judged Israel in the days of thePhilistines twenty years" leads the ordinary reader to think of him asa sage, judicial personage, whereas it means only that he was thepolitical and military leader of his people during that period, liftedto a magisterial position by his strength and prowess in war. Hisachievements were muscular, not mental. 

Rabbinical legends have magnified his stature and power in preciselythe same manner as the imagination of the poet of the "Lay of theNibelung" magnified the stature and strength of Siegfried. Hisshoulders, says the legend, were sixty ells broad; when the Spirit ofGod came on him he could step from Zorah to Eshtaol although he waslame in both feet; the hairs of his head arose and clashed against oneanother so that they could be heard for a like distance; he was sostrong that he could uplift two mountains and rub them together liketwo clods of earth, Herakles tore asunder the mountain which, divided, now forms the Straits of Gibraltar and Gates of Hercules. 

The parallel which is frequently drawn between Samson and Heraklescannot be pursued far with advantage to the Hebrew hero. Samson rent ayoung lion on the road to Timnath, whither he was going to take hisPhilistine wife; Herakles, while still a youthful herdsman, slew theThespian lion and afterward strangled the Nemean lion with his hands. Samson carried off the gates of Gaza and bore them to the top of a hillbefore Hebron; Herakles upheld the heavens while Atlas went to fetchthe golden apples of Hesperides. Moreover, the feats of Herakles show ahigher intellectual quality than those of Samson, all of which, saveone, were predominantly physical. The exception was the trick of tying300 foxes by their tails, two by two, with firebrands between andturning them loose to burn the corn of the Philistines. An ingeniousway to spread a conflagration, probably, but primitive, decidedlyprimitive. Herakles was a scientific engineer of the modern school; heyoked the rivers Alpheus and Peneus to his service by turning theirwaters through the Augean stables and cleansing them of the deposits of3000 oxen for thirty years. Herakles had excellent intellectualtraining; Rhadamanthus taught him wisdom and virtue, Linus music. Weknow nothing about the bringing up of Samson save that "the child grewand the Lord blessed him. And the Lord began to move him at times inthe camp of Dan between Zorah and Eshtaol. " Samson made little use ofhis musical gifts, if he had any, but that little he made well;Herakles made little use of his musical training, and that little hemade ill. He lost his temper and killed his music master with his lute;Samson, after using an implement which only the black slaves of ourSouth have treated as a musical instrument, to slay a thousandPhilistines, jubilated in song:--

 With the jawbone of an ass Heaps upon heaps! With the jawbone of an ass Have I slain a thousand men!

The vast fund of human nature laid bare in the story of Samson is, itappears to me, quite sufficient to explain its popularity, and accountfor its origin. The hero's virtues--strength, courage, patriotism--arethose which have ever won the hearts of men, and they presentthemselves as but the more admirable, as they are made to appear morenatural, by pairing with that amiable weakness, susceptibility towoman's charms. 

After all Samson is a true type of the tragic hero, whatever Dr. Chrysander or another may say. He is impelled by Fate into a commissionof the follies which bring about the wreck of his body. His marriagewith the Philistine woman in Timnath was part of a divine plot, thoughunpatriotic and seemingly impious. When his father said unto him: "Isthere never a woman among the daughters of thy brethren or among all mypeople that thou goest to take a wife of the uncircumcisedPhilistines?" he did not know that "it was of the Lord that he soughtan occasion against the Philistines. " Out of that wooing and winninggrew the first of the encounters which culminated in the destruction ofthe temple of Dagon, when "the dead which he slew at his death weremore than they which he slew in his life. " So his yielding to thepleadings of his wife when she betrayed the answer to his riddle andhis succumbing to the wheedling arts of Delilah when he betrayed thesecret of his strength (acts incompatible with the character of anordinary strong and wise man) were of the type essential to themachinery of the Greek drama. 

A word about the mythological interpretation of the characters whichhave been placed in parallel: It may be helpful to an understanding ofthe Hellenic mind to conceive Herakles as a marvellously strong man, first glorified into a national hero and finally deified. So, too, thetheory, that Herakles sinking down upon his couch of fire is but asymbol of the declining sun can be entertained without marring thegrandeur of the hero or belittling Nature's phenomenon; but it wouldobscure our understanding of the Hebrew intellect and profane theHebrew religion to conceive Samson as anything but the man that theBible says he was; while to make of him, as Ignaz Golziher suggests, asymbol of the setting sun whose curly locks (crines Phoebi) are shearedby Delilah-Night, would bring contumely upon one of the most beautifuland impressive of Nature's spectacles. Before the days of comparativemythology scholars were not troubled by such interpretations. Josephusdisposes of the Delilah episode curtly: "As for Samson being ensnaredby a woman, that is to be ascribed to human nature, which is too weakto resist sin. "

It is not often that an operatic figure invites to such a study as thatwhich I have attempted in the case of Samson, and it may be that theside-wise excursion in which I have indulged invites criticism of thekind illustrated in the metaphor of using a club to brain a gnat. But Ido not think so. If heroic figures seem small on the operatic stage, itis the fault of either the author or the actor. When genius in acreator is paired with genius in an interpreter, the hero of an operais quite as deserving of analytical study as the hero of a drama whichis spoken. No labor would be lost in studying the character of Wagner'sheroes in order to illuminate the impersonations of Niemann, Lehmann, or Scaria; nor is Maurel's lago less worthy of investigation than EdwinBooth's. 

The character of Delilah presents even more features of interest thanthat of the man of whom she was the undoing, and to those features Ipurpose to devote some attention presently. 

There is no symbolism in Saint-Saens's opera. It is frankly a piece forthe lyric theatre, albeit one in which adherence to a plot suggested bythe Biblical story compelled a paucity of action which had to be madegood by spectacle and music. The best element in a drama being thatwhich finds expression in action and dialogue, and these beingrestricted by the obvious desire of the composers to avoid suchextraneous matter as Rossini and others were wont to use to addinterest to their Biblical operas (the secondary love stories, forinstance), Saint-Saens could do nothing else than employ liberally thesplendid factor of choral music which the oratorio form brought to hishand. 

We are introduced to that factor without delay. Even before the firstscene is opened to our eyes we hear the voice of the multitude inprayer. The Israelites, oppressed by their conquerors and sore strickenat the reflection that their God has deserted them, lament, accuse, protest, and pray. Before they have been heard, the poignancy of theirwoe has been published by the orchestra, which at once takes its placebeside the chorus as a peculiarly eloquent expositor of the emotionsand passions which propel the actors in the drama. That mission andthat eloquence it maintains from the beginning to the finalcatastrophe, the instrumental band doing its share towardcharacterizing the opposing forces, emphasizing the solemn dignity ofthe Hebrew religion and contrasting it with the sensuous and sensualfrivolity of the worshippers of Dagon. The choral prayer has for itsinstrumental substructure an obstinate syncopated figure, [figure: an musical score excerpt]

which rises with the agonized cries of the people and sinks with theirutterances of despair. The device of introducing voices before thedisclosure of visible action in an opera is not new, and in this caseis both uncalled for and ineffective. Gounod made a somewhat similareffort in his "Romeo et Juliette, " where a costumed group of singerspresents a prologue, vaguely visible through a gauze curtain. Meyerbeertried the expedient in "Le Pardon de Ploermel, " and the siciliano inMascagni's "Cavalleria Rusticana" and the prologue in Leoncavallo's"Pagliacci" are other cases in point. Of these only the last can besaid to achieve its purpose in arresting the early attention of theaudience. When the curtain opens we see a public place in Gaza in frontof the temple of Dagon. The Israelites are on their knees and inattitudes of mourning, among them Samson. The voice of lamentationtakes a fugal form--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

as the oppressed people tell of the sufferings which they haveendured:--

 Nous avons vu nos cites renversees Et les gentils profanants ton autel, etc. 

The expression rises almost to the intensity of sacrilegious accusationas the people recall to God the vow made to them in Egypt, but sinks toaccents of awe when they reflect upon the incidents of their formerserfdom. Now Samson stands forth. In a broad arioso, half recitative, half cantilena, wholly in the oratorio style when it does not drop intothe mannerism of Meyerbeerian opera, he admonishes his brethren oftheir need to trust in God, their duty to worship Him, of His promisesto aid them, of the wonders that He had already wrought in theirbehalf; he bids them to put off their doubts and put on their armor offaith and valor. As he proceeds in his preachment he develops somewhatof the theatrical pose of John of Leyden in "The Prophet. " TheIsraelites mutter gloomily of the departure of their days of glory, butgradually take warmth from the spirit which has obsessed Samson andpledge themselves to do battle with the foe with him under the guidanceof Jehovah. 

Now Abimelech, Satrap of Gaza, appears surrounded by Philistinesoldiers. He rails at the Israelites as slaves, sneers at their God asimpotent and craven, lifts up the horn of Dagon, who, he says, shallpursue Jehovah as a falcon pursues a dove. The speech fills Samson witha divine anger, which bursts forth in a canticle of prayer andprophecy. There is a flash as of swords in the scintillant scalepassages which rush upward from the eager, angry, pushing figure whichmutters and rages among the instruments. The Israelites catch fire fromSamson's ecstatic ardor and echo the words in which he summons them tobreak their chains. Abimelech rushes forward to kill Samson, but thehero wrenches the sword from the Philistine's hand and strikes himdead. The satrap's soldiers would come to his aid, but are held in fearby the hero, who is now armed. The Israelites rush off to make war ontheir oppressors. The High Priest comes down from the temple of Dagonand pauses where the body of Abimelech lies. Two Philistines tell ofthe fear which had paralyzed them when Samson showed his might. TheHigh Priest rebukes them roundly for their cowardice, but has scarcelyuttered his denunciation before a Messenger enters to tell him thatSamson and his Israelitish soldiers have overrun and ravaged thecountry. Curses and vows of vengeance against Israel, her hero, and herGod from the mouth of Dagon's servant. One of his imprecations isdestined to be fulfilled:--

 Maudit soit le sein de la femme Qui lui donna le jour! Qu'enfin une compagne infame Trahisse son amour!

Revolutions run a rapid course in operatic Palestine. The insurrectionis but begun with the slaying of Abimelech, yet as the Philistines, bearing away his body, leave the scene, it is only to make room for theIsraelites, chanting of their victory. We expect a sonorous hymn oftriumph, but the people of God have been chastened and awed by theirquick deliverance, and their paean is in the solemn tone of templepsalmody, the first striking bit of local color which the composer hasintroduced into his score--a reticence on his part of which it may besaid that it is all the more remarkable from the fact that local coloris here completely justified:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt, sung to the words "Praise, yeJehovah! Tell all the wondrous story! Psalms of praise loudly swell!]

 "Hymne de joie, hymne de deliverance Montez vers l'Eternel!"

It is a fine piece of dramatic characterization; which is followed byone whose serene beauty is heightened by contrast. Dalila and a companyof singing and dancing Philistine women come in bearing garlands offlowers. Not only Samson's senses, our own as well, are ravished by thedelightful music:--

 Voici le printemps, nous portant des fleurs Pour orner le front des guerriers vainquers! Melons nos accents aux parfums des roses A peine ecloses! Avec l'oiseau chantons, mes soeurs!

[figure: a musical score excerpt sung to the words "Now Spring'sgenerous band, Brings flowers to the land"]

Dalila is here and it is become necessary to say something of her, having said so much about the man whose destruction she accomplished. Let the ingenious and erudite Philip Hale introduce her: "Was Delilah apatriotic woman, to be ranked with Jael and Judith, or was she merely acourtesan, as certain opera singers who impersonate her in the operaseem to think? E. Meier says that the word 'Delilah' means 'thefaithless one. ' Ewald translates it 'traitress, ' and so does Ranke. Knobel characterizes her as 'die Zarte, ' which means tender, delicate, but also subtle. Lange is sure that she was a weaver woman, if not anout-and-out 'zonah. ' There are other Germans who think the word is akinto the verb 'einlullen, ' to lull asleep. Some liken it to the Arabicdalilah, a woman who misguides, a bawd. See in 'The Thousand Nights anda Night' the speech of the damsel to Aziz: 'If thou marry me thou wiltat least be safe from the daughter of Dalilah, the Wily One. ' Also 'TheRogueries of Dalilah, the Crafty, and her daughter, Zayrah, the ConeyCatcher. '"

We are directly concerned here with the Dalila of the opera, but Mr. Hale invites us to an excursion which offers a pleasant occupation fora brief while, and we cheerfully go with him. The Biblical Delilah is avague figure, except in two respects: She is a woman of such charmsthat she wins the love of Samson, and such guile and cupidity that sheplays upon his passion and betrays him to the lords of the Philistinesfor pay. The Bible knows nothing of her patriotism, nor does the sacredhistorian give her the title of Samson's wife, though it has long beenthe custom of Biblical commentators to speak of her in this relation. St. Chrysostom set the fashion and Milton followed it:--

 But who is this? What thing of sea or land-- Female of sex it seems-- That, so bedeck'd, ornate and gay Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for the isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play; An amber scent of odorous perfume-- Her harbinger, a damsel train behind? Some rich Philistian matron she may seem; And now, at nearer view, no other certain Than Dalila, thy wife. 

It cannot be without significance that the author of the story in theBook of Judges speaks in a different way of each of the three women whoplay a part in the tragedy of Samson's life. The woman who lived amongthe vineyards of Timnath, whose murder Samson avenged, was his wife. She was a Philistine, but Samson married her according to theconventional manner of the time and, also according to the manner ofthe time, she kept her home with her parents after her marriage. Wherefore she has gotten her name in the good books of the sociologicalphilosophers who uphold the matronymic theory touching early society. The woman of Gaza whom Samson visited what time he confounded hiswould-be captors by carrying off the doors of the gates of the city wascurtly "an harlot. " Of the third woman it is said only that it came topass that Samson "loved a woman in the Valley of Sorek, whose name wasDelilah. " Thereupon follows the story of her bribery by the lords ofthe Philistines and her betrayal of her lover. Evidently a licentiouswoman who could not aspire even to the merit of the heroine of Dekker'splay. 

Milton not only accepted the theory of her wifehood, but alsoattributed patriotic motives to her. She knew that her name would bedefamed "in Dan, in Judah and the bordering tribes. "

 But in my country, where I most desire, In Eeron, Gaza, Asdod and in Gath, I shall be nam'd among the famousest Of women, sung at solemn festivals, Living and dead recorded, who to save Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose Above the faith of wedlock bands; my tomb With odours visited and annual flowers; Not less renown'd than in Mount Ephraim Jael, who, with inhospitable guile, Smote Sisera sleeping. 

In the scene before us Dalila is wholly and simply a siren, aseductress who plays upon the known love of Samson from motives whichare not disclosed. As yet one may imagine her moved by a genuinepassion. She turns her lustrous black eyes upon him as she hails him adouble victor over his foes and her heart, and invites him to rest fromhis arms in her embraces in the fair valley of Sorek. Temptation seizesupon the soul of Samson. He prays God to make him steadfast; but shewinds her toils the tighter: It is for him that she has bound a coronetof purple grapes upon her forehead and entwined the rose of Sharon inher ebon tresses. An Old Hebrew warns against the temptress and Samsonagonizingly invokes a veil over the beauty that has enchained him. 

"Extinguish the fires of those eyes which enslave me. "--thus he. 

"Sweet is the lily of the valley, pleasant the juices of mandragora, but sweeter and more pleasant are my kisses!"--thus she. 

The Old Hebrew warns again: "If thou give ear to her honeyed phrases, my son, curses will alight on thee which no tears that thou may'st weepwill ever efface. "

But still the siren song rings in his ears. The maidens who had comeupon the scene with Dalila (are they priestesses of Dagon?) dance, swinging their floral garlands seductively before the eyes of Samsonand his followers. The hero tries to avoid the glances which Dalila, joining in the dance, throws upon him. It is in vain; his eyes followher through all the voluptuous postures and movements of the dance. 

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

And Dalila sings "Printemps qui commence"--a song often heard inconcert-rooms, but not so often as the air with which the love-duet inthe second act reaches its culmination, which is popularly held also tomark the climax of the opera. That song is wondrously insinuating inits charm; it pulsates with passion, so much so, indeed, that it isdifficult to conceive that its sentiments are feigned, but this islovelier in its fresh, suave, graceful, and healthy beauty:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt, sung to the words "The Spring withher dower of bird and flower, brings hope in her train. "]

As Dalila leaves the scene her voice and eyes repeat their lure, whileSamson's looks and acts betray the trouble of his soul. 

It is not until we see and hear Dalila in the second act that she isrevealed to us in her true character. Not till now does she disclosethe motives of her conduct toward her lover. Night is falling in thevalley of Sorek, the vale which lies between the hill country which theIsraelites entered from the East, and the coast land which thePhilistines, supposedly an island people, invaded from the West. Dalila, gorgeously apparelled, is sitting on a rock near the portico ofher house. The strings of the orchestra murmur and the chromatic figurewhich we shall hear again in her love-song coos in the wood-winds:

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

She awaits him whom passion has made her slave in full confidence ofher hold upon him. 

 Samson, recherchant ma presence, Ce soir doit venir en ces lieux. Voici l'heure de la vengeance Qui doit satisfaire nos dieux!

 Amour! viens aider ma faiblesse!

The vengeance of her gods shall be glutted; it is to that end sheinvokes the power of love to strengthen her weakness. A passion likehis will not down--that she knows. To her comes the High Priest:Samson's strength, he says, is supernatural and flows from a vow withwhich he was consecrated to effect the glory of Israel. Once while helay in her arms that strength had deserted him, but now, it is said, heflouts her love and doubts his own passion. There is no need to try toawaken

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

jealousy in the heart of Dalila; she hates Samson more bitterly thanthe leader of his enemies. She is not mercenary, like the Biblicalwoman; she scorns the promise of riches which the High Priest offers soshe obtain the secret of the Hebrew's strength. Thrice had she essayedto learn that secret and thrice had he set her spell at naught. Now shewill assail him with tears--a woman's weapon. 

The rumblings of thunder are heard; the scene is lit up by flashes oflightning. Running before the storm, which is only a precursor and asymbol of the tempest which is soon to rend his soul, Samson comes. Dalila upbraids her lover, rebukes his fears, protests her grief. Samson cannot withstand her tears. He confesses his love, but he mustobey the will of a higher power. "What god is mightier than Love?" Lethim but doubt her constancy and she will die. And she plays her trumpcard: "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix, " while the fluttering strings andcooing wood-winds insinuate themselves into the crevices of Samson'smoral harness and loosen the rivets that hold it together:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt to the words "My heart, at thy dearvoice"]

Herein lies the strength and the weakness of music: it must fain betruthful. Dalila's words may be hypocritical, but the music speaks thespeech of genuine passion. Not until we hear the refrain echoedmockingly in the last scene of the drama can we believe that thepassion hymned in this song is feigned. And we almost deplore hat thecomposer put it to such disgraceful use. Samson hears the voice of hisGod in the growing and again hesitates. The storm bursts as Dalilashrieks out the hate that fills her and runs toward her dwelling. 

Beethoven sought to suggest external as well as internal peace in the"Dona nobis" of his Mass in D by mingling the sounds of war with theprayer for peace; Saint-Saens pictures the storm in nature and inSamson's soul by the music which accompanies the hero as he raises hishands mutely in prayer; then follows the temptress with faltering stepsand enters her dwelling. The tempest reaches its climax; Dalila appearsat the window with a shout to the waiting Philistine soldiery below. The voice of Samson cuts through the stormy night: "Trahison!"

Act III. --First scene: A prison in Gaza. Samson, shorn of his flowinglocks, which as a Nazarite he had vowed should never be touched byshears, labors at the mill. He has been robbed of his eyes and darknesshas settled down upon him; darkness, too, upon the people whom hismomentary weakness had given back into slavery. 

"Total eclipse!" Saint-Saens has won our admiration for the solemndignity with which he has invested the penitent confession of the blindhero. But who shall hymn the blindness of Manoah's son after Milton andHandel? From a crowd of captive Hebrews outside the prison walls cometaunting accusations, mingled with supplications to God. We recognizeagain the national mood of the psalmody of the first act. The entirescene is finely conceived. It is dramatic in a lofty sense, for itsaction plays on the stage of the heart. Samson, contrite, humble, broken in spirit, with a prayer for his people's deliverance, is ledaway to be made sport of in the temple of Dagon. There, before thestatue of the god, grouped among the columns and before the altar theHigh Priest and the lords of the Philistines. Dalila, too, with maidensclad for the lascivious dance, and the multitude of Philistia. Thewomen's choral song to spring which charmed us in the first act isechoed by mixed voices. The ballet which follows is a prettily exoticone, with an introductory cadence marked by the Oriental scale, out ofwhich the second dance melody is constructed--a scale which has thepeculiarity of an interval composed of three semitones, and which weknow from the song of the priestesses in Verdi's "Aida":--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

The High Priest makes mock of the Judge of Israel: Let him empty thewine cup and sing the praise of his vanquisher! Dalila, in the pride ofher triumph, tauntingly tells him how simulated love had been made toserve her gods, her hate, and her nation. Samson answers only incontrite prayer. Together in canonic imitation (the erudite form doesnot offend, but only gives dignity to the scene) priest and siren offera libation on the altar of the Fish god. 

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

The flames flash upward from the altar. Now a supreme act of insolentimpiety; Samson, too, shall sacrifice to Dagon. A boy is told to leadhim where all can witness his humiliation. Samson feels that the timefor retribution upon his enemies is come. He asks to be led between themarble pillars that support the roof of the temple. Priests and people, the traitress and her dancing women, the lords of the Philistines, therout of banqueters and worshippers--all hymn the praise of Dagon. Abrief supplication to Israel's God--

"And Samson took hold of the two middle pillars upon which the housestood and on which it was borne up, of the one with his right hand andof the other with his left. 

"And Samson said, 'Let me die with the Philistines. ' And he bowedhimself with all his might: and the house fell upon the lords and uponall the people that were therein. So the dead which he slew at hisdeath were more than they which he slew in his life. "

CHAPTER V

"DIE KONIGIN VON SABA"

The most obvious reason why Goldmark's "Konigin von Saba" should beseen and heard with pleasure lies in its book and scenic investiture. Thoughtfully considered the book is not one of great worth, but in thehandling of things which give pleasure to the superficial observer itis admirable. In the first place it presents a dramatic story which isrational; which strongly enlists the interest if not the sympathies ofthe observer; which is unhackneyed; which abounds with imposingspectacles with which the imagination of childhood already had madeplay, that are not only intrinsically brilliant and fascinating butoccur as necessary adjuncts of the story. Viewed from its ethical sideand considered with reference to the sources whence its elementssprang, it falls under a considerable measure of condemnation, as willmore plainly appear after its incidents have been rehearsed. 

The title of the opera indicates that the Biblical story of the visitof the Queen of Sheba to Solomon had been drawn on for the plot. Thisis true, but only in a slight degree. Sheba's Queen comes to Solomon inthe opera, but that is the end of the draft on the Scriptural legend sofar as she is concerned. Sulamith, who figures in the drama, owes hername to the Canticles, from which it was borrowed by the librettist, but no element of her character nor any of the incidents in which sheis involved. The "Song of Songs, which is Solomon's" contributes a fewlines of poetry to the book, and a ritualistic service which iscelebrated in the temple finds its original text in the opening versesof Psalms lxvii and cxvii, but with this I have enumerated all that theopera owes to the Bible. It is not a Biblical opera, in the degree thatMehul's "Joseph, " Rossini's "Moses, " or Rubinstein's "Maccabees" isBiblical, to say nothing of Saint-Saens's "Samson et Dalila. " Solomon'smagnificent reign and marvellous wisdom, which contribute a few factorsto the sum of the production, belong to profane as well as to sacredhistory and it will be found most agreeable to deeply rootedpreconceptions to think of some other than the Scriptural Solomon asthe prototype of the Solomon of Mosenthal and Goldmark, who, at thebest, is a sorry sort of sentimentalist. The local color has beenborrowed from the old story; the dramatic motive comes plainly fromWagner's "Tannhauser. "

Assad, a favorite courtier, is sent by Solomon to extend greetings anda welcome to the Queen of Sheba, who is on the way to visit the king, whose fame for wealth and wisdom has reached her ears in far Arabia. Assad is the type (though a milk-and-watery one, it must be confessed)of manhood struggling between the things that are of the earth and thethings which are of heaven--between a gross, sensual passion and apure, exalting love. He is betrothed to Sulamith, the daughter of theHigh Priest of the temple, who awaits his return from Solomon's palaceand leads her companions in songs of gladness. Assad meets the Queen atGath, performs his mission, and sets out to return, but, exhausted bythe heat of the day, enters the forest on Mount Lebanon and lies downon a bank of moss to rest. There the sound of plashing waters arrestshis ear. He seeks the cause of the grateful noise and comes upon atransportingly beautiful woman bathing. The nymph, finding herselfobserved, does not, like another Diana, cause the death of her admirer, but discloses herself to be a veritable Wagnerian Venus. She clips himin her arms and he falls at her feet; but a reed rustles and thecharmer flees. These incidents we do not see. They precede the openingof the opera, and we learn of them from Assad's narration. Assadreturns to Jerusalem, where, conscience stricken, he seeks to avoid hischaste bride. To Solomon, however, he confesses his adventure, and theking sets the morrow as his wedding day with Sulamith. 

The Queen of Sheba arrives, and when she raises her veil, ostensibly toshow unto Solomon the first view of her features that mortal man hasever had vouchsafed him, Assad recognizes the heroine of his adventurein the woods on Lebanon. His mind is in a maze; bewilderingly headdresses her, and haughtily he is repulsed. But the woman has felt thedart no less than Assad; she seeks him at night in the palace garden;whither she had gone to brood over her love and the loss whichthreatens her on the morrow, and the luring song of her slave draws himagain into her arms. 

Before the altar in the temple, just as Assad is about to pronounce thewords which are to bind him to Sulamith, she confronts him again, onthe specious pretext that she brings gifts for the bride. Assad againaddresses her. Again he is denied. Delirium seizes upon his brain; heloudly proclaims the Queen as the goddess of his devotion. The peopleare panic-stricken at the sacrilege and rush from the temple; thepriests cry anathema; Sulamith bemoans her fate; Solomon essays wordsof comfort; the High Priest intercedes with heaven; the soldiery, ledby Baal-Hanan, overseer of the palace, enter to lead the profaner todeath. Now Solomon claims the right to fix his punishment. The Queen, fearful that her prey may escape her, begs his life as a boon, butSolomon rejects her appeal; Assad must work out his salvation byovercoming temptation and mastering his wicked passion. Sulamithapproaches amid the wailings of her companions. She is about to enter aretreat on the edge of the Syrian desert, but she, too, prays for thelife of Assad. Solomon, in a prophetic ecstasy, foretells Assad'sdeliverance from sin and in a vision sees a meeting between him and hispure love under a palm tree in the desert. Assad is banished to thesandy waste; there a simoom sweeps down upon him; he falls at the footof a lonely palm to die, after calling on Sulamith with his fleetingbreath. She comes with her wailing maidens, sees the fulfilment ofSolomon's prophecy, and Assad dies in her arms. "Thy beloved is thine, in love's eternal realm, " sing the maidens, while a mirage shows thewicked Queen, with her caravan of camels and elephants, returning toher home. 

The parallel between this story and the immeasurably more poetical andbeautiful one of "Tannhauser" is apparent to half an eye. Sulamith isElizabeth, the Queen is Venus, Assad is Tannhauser, Solomon is Wolframvon Eschenbach. The ethical force of the drama--it has some, thoughvery little--was weakened at the performances at the Metropolitan OperaHouse [footnote: Goldmark's opera was presented for the first time inAmerica at the Metropolitan Opera House on December 2, 1885. Cast:Sulamith, Fraulein Lilli Lehmann; die Konigin von Saba, FrauKramer-Wiedl; Astaroth, Fraulein Marianne Brandt; Solomon, Herr AdolphRobinson; Assad, Herr Stritt; Der Hohe Priester, Herr Emil Fischer;Baal-Hanan, Herr-Alexi. Anton Seidl conducted, and the opera hadfifteen representations in the season. These performances were in theoriginal German. On April 3, 1888, an English version was presented atthe Academy of Music by the National Opera Company, then in its deaththroes. The opera was revived at the Metropolitan Opera House by Mr. Conried in the season 1905-1906 and had five performances. ] in New Yorkby the excision from the last act of a scene in which the Queenattempts to persuade Assad to go with her to Arabia. Now Assad risessuperior to his grosser nature and drives the temptress away, thusperforming the saving act demanded by Solomon. 

Herr Mosenthal, who made the libretto of "Die Konigin von Saba, "treated this material, not with great poetic skill, but with a cunningappreciation of the opportunities which it offers for dramatic effect. The opera opens with a gorgeous picture of the interior of Solomon'spalace, decked in honor of the coming guest. There is an air of joyousexpectancy over everything. Sulamith's entrance introduces the elementof female charm to brighten the brilliancy of the picture, and herbridal song--in which the refrain is an excerpt from the Canticles, "Thy beloved is thine, who feeds among the roses"--enables the composerto indulge his strong predilection and fecund gift for Oriental melody. The action hurries to a thrilling climax. One glittering pageant treadson the heels of another, each more gorgeous and resplendent than thelast, until the stage, set to represent a fantastical hall with abewildering vista of carved columns, golden lions, and rich draperies, is filled with such a kaleidoscopic mass of colors and groupings asonly an Oriental mind could conceive. Finally all the preceding strokesare eclipsed by the coming of the Queen. But no time is lost; thespectacle does not make the action halt for a moment. Sheba makes hergifts and uncovers her face, and at once we are confronted by thetragical element, and the action rushes on toward its legitimate andmournful end. 

In this ingenious blending of play and spectacle one rare opportunityafter another is presented to the composer. Sulamith's epithalamium, Assad's narrative, the choral greeting to the Queen, the fatefulrecognition--all these things are made for music of the inspiring, swelling, passionate kind. In the second act, the Queen's monologue, her duet with Assad, and, most striking of all, the unaccompanied bitof singing with which Astaroth lures Assad into the presence of theQueen, who is hiding in the shadow of broad-leaved palms behind arunning fountain--a melodic phrase saturated with the mystical color ofthe East--these are gifts of the rarest kind to the composer, which hehas enriched to give them in turn to the public. That relief from theirstress of passion is necessary is not forgotten, but is provided in theballet music and the solemn ceremonial in the temple, which takes placeamid surroundings that call into active operation one's childhoodfancies touching the sacred fane on Mount Moriah and the pompousliturgical functions of which it was the theatre. 

Goldmark's music is highly spiced. He was an eclectic, and his firstaim seems to have been to give the drama a tonal investiture whichshould be in keeping with its character, external as well as internal. At times his music rushes along like a lava stream of passion, everymeasure pulsating with eager, excited, and exciting life. He revels ininstrumental color. The language of his orchestra is as glowing as thepoetry attributed to the royal poet whom his operatic story celebrates. Many composers before him made use of Oriental cadences, rhythms, andidioms, but to none do they seem to have come so like native languageas to Goldmark. It is romantic music, against which the strongestobjection that can be urged is that it is so unvaryingly stimulatedthat it wearies the mind and makes the listener long for a change to afresher and healthier musical atmosphere. 

CHAPTER VI

"HERODIADE"

In the ballet scene of Gounod's most popular opera Mephistophelesconjures up visions of Phryne, Lais, Aspasia, Cleopatra, and Helen ofTroy to beguile the jaded interest of Faust. The list reads almost likea catalogue of the operas of Massenet whose fine talent was largelygiven to the celebration of the famous courtesans of the ancient world. With the addition of a few more names from the roster of antiquity(Thais, Dalila, and Aphrodite), and some less ancient but no lessimmoral creatures of modern fancy, like Violetta, Manon Lescaut, Zaza, and Louise, we might make a pretty complete list of representatives ofthe female type in which modern dramatists and composers seem to thinkthe interest of humanity centres. 

When Massenet's "Herodiade" was announced as the first opera to begiven at the Manhattan Opera House in New York for the season of1909-1910 it looked to some observers as if the dominant note of theyear was to be sounded by the Scarlet Woman; but the representationbrought a revelation and a surprise. The names of the principalcharacters were those which for a few years had been filling the lyrictheatres of Germany with a moral stench; but their bearers inMassenet's opera did little or nothing that was especially shocking togood taste or proper morals. Herod was a love-sick man of lust, whogazed with longing eyes upon the physical charms of Salome and pleadedfor her smiles like any sentimental milksop; but he did not offer herCapernaum for a dance. Salome may have known how, but she did not dancefor either half a kingdom or the whole of a man's head. Instead, thoughthere were intimations that her reputation was not all that a goodmaiden's ought to be, she sang pious hosannahs and waved a palm branchconspicuously in honor of the prophet at whose head she had bowledherself in the desert, the public streets, and king's palaces. At theend she killed herself when she found that the vengeful passion ofHerodias and the jealous hatred of Herod had compassed the death of thesaintly man whom she had loved. Herodias was a wicked woman, no doubt, for John the Baptist denounced her publicly as a Jezebel, but herjealousy of Salome had reached a point beyond her control before shelearned that her rival was her own daughter whom she had deserted forlove of the Tetrarch. As for John the Baptist the camel's hair withwhich he was clothed must have cost as pretty a penny as any of themodern kind, and if he wore a girdle of skins about his loins it wasconcealed under a really regal cloak. He was a voice; but not onecrying in the wilderness. He was in fact an operatic tenor comme ilfaut, who needed only to be shut up in a subterranean jail with theyoung woman who had pursued him up hill and down dale, in and out ofseason to make love to her in the most approved fashion of the ParisGrand Opera. 

What shall we think of the morals of this French opera, after we haveseen and heard that compounded by the Englishman Oscar Wilde and theGerman Richard Strauss? No wonder that England's Lord Chamberlain askednothing more than an elimination of the Biblical names when he licenseda performance of "Herodiade" at Covent Garden. There was no loss ofdramatic quality in calling Herod, Moriame, and Herodias, Hesotade, andchanging the scene from Jerusalem to Azoum in Ethiopia; though it musthave been a trifle diverting to hear fair-skinned Ethiopians singingSchma Yisroel, Adonai Elohenu in a temple which could only be that ofJerusalem. John the Baptist was only Jean in the original and needednot to be changed, and Salome is not in the Bible, though Salome, avery different woman is--a fact which the Lord Chamberlain seems tohave overlooked when he changed the title of the opera from "Herodiade"to "Salome. "

Where does Salome come from, anyway? And where did she get herchameleonlike nature? Was she an innocent child, as Flaubert representsher, who could but lisp the name of the prophet when her mother toldher to ask for his head? Had she taken dancing lessons from one of thewomen of Cadiz to learn to dance as she must have danced to excite suchlust in Herod? Was she a monster, a worse than vampire as she isrepresented by Wilde and Strauss? Was she an "Israelitish grisette" asPougin called the heroine of the opera which it took one Italian(Zanardini) and three Frenchmen (Milliet, Gremont, and Massenet) toconcoct? No wonder that the brain of Saint-Saens reeled when he went tohear "Herodiade" at its first performance in Brussels and found thatthe woman whom he had looked upon as a type of lasciviousness andmonstrous cruelty had become metamorphosed into a penitent Magdalen. Read the plot of the opera and wonder!

Salome is a maiden in search of her mother whom John the Baptist findsin his wanderings and befriends. She clings to him when he becomes apolitical as well as a religious power among the Jews, though hepreaches unctuously to her touching the vanity of earthly love. Herodias demands his death of her husband for that he had publiclyinsulted her, but Herod schemes to use his influence over the Jews tofurther his plan to become a real monarch instead of a Roman Tetrarch. But when the pro-consul Vitellius wins the support of the people andHerod learns that the maiden who has spurned him is in love with theprophet, he decrees his decapitation. Salome, baffled in her effort tosave her lover, attempts to kill Herodias; but the wicked womandiscloses herself as the maiden's mother and Salome turns the daggeragainst her own breast. 

This is all of the story one needs to know. It is richly garnished withincident, made gorgeous with pageantry, and clothed with much charmingmusic. Melodies which may be echoes of synagogal hymns of greatantiquity resound in the walls of the temple at Jerusalem, in whichrespect the opera recalls Goldmark's "Queen of Sheba. " Curved Romantrumpets mix their loud clangors with the instruments of the modernbrass band and compel us to think of "Aida. " There are dances ofEgyptians, Babylonians, and Phoenicians, and if the movements of thewomen make us deplore the decay of the choreographic art, the musicwarms us almost as much as the Spanish measures in "Le Cid. " Eyes andears are deluged with Oriental color until at the last there comes alonging for the graciously insinuating sentimentalities of which theearlier Massenet was a master. Two of the opera's airs had long beenfamiliar to the public from performance in the concert-room--Salome's"Il est doux" and Herod's "Vision fugitive"--and they stand out as thebrightest jewels in the opera's musical crown; but there is much elsewhich woos the ear delightfully, for Massenet was ever a gracious ifnot a profound melodist and a master of construction and theatricalorchestration. When he strives for massive effects, however, hesometimes becomes futile, banal where he would be imposing; but hecommands a charm which is insinuating in its moments of intimacy. 

[Footnote: "Herodiade" had its first performance in New York (it hadpreviously been given in New Orleans by the French Opera Company) onNovember 8, 1909. The cast was as follows: Salome--Lina Cavalieri;Herodias--Gerville-Reache; John--Charles Dalmores; Herod--MauriceRenaud; Vitellius--Crabbe; Phanuel--M. Vallier; High Priest--M. Nicolay. The musical director was Henriques de la Fuente. ]

CHAPTER VII

"LAKME"

Lakme is the daughter of Nilakantha, a fanatical Brahmin priest, whohas withdrawn to a ruined temple deep in an Indian forest. In hisretreat the old man nurses his wrath against the British invader, praysassiduously to Brahma (thus contributing a fascinating Oriental mood tothe opening of the opera), and waits for the time to come when he shallbe able to wreak his revenge on the despoilers of his country. Lakmesings Oriental duets with her slave, Mallika:--

 Sous le dome epais ou le blanc jasmin A la rose s'assemble, Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin Viens, descendons ensemble--

a dreamy, sense-ensnaring, hypnotic barcarole. The opera opens well; bythis time the composer has carried us deep into the jungle. TheOccident is rude: Gerald, an English officer, breaks through a bamboofence and makes love to Lakme, who, though widely separated from heroperatic colleagues from an ethnological point of view like Elsa andSenta, to expedite the action requites the passion instanter. After theEnglishman is gone the father returns and, with an Oriental's cunningwhich does him credit, deduces from the broken fence that an Englishmanhas profaned the sacred spot. This is the business of Act I. In Act IIthe father, disguised as a beggar who holds a dagger ever in readiness, and his daughter, disguised as a street singer, visit a town market insearch of the profaner. The business is not to Lakme's taste, but it isnot for the like of her to neglect the opportunity offered to winapplause with the legend of the pariah's daughter, with itstintinnabulatory charm:--

 Ou va la jeune Hindoue Fille des parias; Quand la lune se joue Dans les grand mimosas?

It is the "Bell song, " which has tinkled so often in our concert-rooms. Gerald recognizes the singer despite her disguise; and Nilakantharecognizes him as the despoiler of the hallowed spot in which heworships and incidentally conceals his daughter. The bloodthirstyfanatic observes sententiously that Brahma has smiled and cuts shortGerald's soliloquizing with a dagger thrust. Lakme, with the help of amale slave, removes him to a hut concealed in the forest. While he isconvalescing the pair sing duets and exchange vows of undyingaffection. But the military Briton, who has invaded the country atlarge, must needs now invade also this cosey abode of love. Frederick, a brother officer, discovers Gerald and informs him that duty calls(Britain always expects every man to do his duty, no matter what theconsequences to him) and he must march with his regiment. Frederick hashappened in just as Lakme is gone for some sacred water in which sheand Gerald were to pledge eternal love for each other, to each other. But, spurred on by Frederick and the memory that "England expects, etc. , " Gerald finds the call of the fife and drum more potent than thevoice of love. Lakme, psychologist as well as botanist, understands thestruggle which now takes place in Gerald's soul, and relieves him, ofhis dilemma by crushing a poisonous flower (to be exact, the Daturastramonium) between her teeth, dying, it would seem, to the piousdelight of her father, who "ecstatically" beholds her dwelling withBrahma. 

The story, borrowed by Gondinet and Gille from the little romance "LeMariage de Loti, " is worthless except to furnish motives for tropicalscenery, Hindu dresses, and Oriental music. Three English ladies, Ellen, Rose, and Mrs. Bentson, figure in the play, but without dramaticpurpose except to take part in some concerted music. They are, indeed, so insignificant in all other respects that when the opera was given byMiss Van Zandt and a French company in London for the first time in1885 they were omitted, and the excision was commended by the critics, who knew that it had been made. The conversation of the women is all ofthe veriest stopgap character. The maidens, Rose and Ellen, are Englishladies visiting in the East; Mrs. Bentson is their chaperon. All thatthey have to say is highly unimportant, even when true. "What do yousee, Frederick?" "A garden. " "And you, Gerald?" "Big, beautiful trees. ""Anybody about?" "Don't know. " "Look again. " "That's not easy; thefence shuts out the view within. " "Can't you make a peephole throughthe bamboo?" "Girls, girls, be careful. " And so on and so on forquantity. But we must fill three acts, and ensemble makes its demands;besides, we want pretty blondes of the English type to put in contrastwith the dark-skinned Lakme and her slave. At the first representationin New York by the American Opera Company, at the Academy of Music, onMarch 1, 1886, the three women were permitted to interfere with whatthere is of poetical spirit in the play, and their conversation, likethat of the other principals, was uttered in the recitatives composedby Delibes to take the place of the spoken dialogue used at the ParisOpera Comique, where spoken dialogue is traditional. Theodore Thomasconducted the Academy performance, at which the cast was as follows:Lakme, Pauline L'Allemand; Nilakantha, Alonzo E. Stoddard; Gerald, William Candidus; Frederick, William H. Lee; Ellen, Charlotte Walker;Rose, Helen Dudley Campbell; Mrs. Bentson, May Fielding; Mallika, Jessie Bartlett Davis; Hadji, William H. Fessenden. 

Few operas have had a more variegated American history than "Lakme. " Itwas quite new when it was first heard in New York, but it had alreadygiven rise to considerable theatrical gossip, not to say scandal. Thefirst representation took place at the Opera Comique in April, 1883, with Miss Marie Van Zandt, an American girl, the daughter of a singerwho had been actively successful in English opera in New York andLondon, as creator of the part of the heroine. The opera won a prettytriumph and so did the singer. At once there was talk of a New Yorkperformance. Mme. Etelka Gerster studied the titular role with M. Delibes and, as a member of Colonel Mapleson's company at the Academyof Music, confidently expected to produce the work there in the seasonof 1883-1884, the first season of the rivalry between the Academy andthe Metropolitan Opera House, which had just opened its doors; butthough she went so far as to offer to buy the American performingrights from Heugel, the publisher, nothing came of it. The reason waseasily guessed by those who knew that there has been, or was pending, aquarrel between Colonel Mapleson and M. Heugel concerning theunauthorized use by the impresario of other scores owned by thepublisher. 

During the same season, however, Miss Emma Abbott carried a version (orrather a perversion) of the opera, for which the orchestral parts hadbeen arranged from the pianoforte score, into the cities of the West, and brought down a deal of unmerited criticism on the innocent head ofM. Delibes. In the season of 1884-1885 Colonel Mapleson came back tothe Academy with vouchers of various sorts to back up a promise to givethe opera. There was a human voucher in the person of Miss Emma Nevada, who had also enjoyed the instruction of the composer and who hadtrunkfuls and trunkfuls and trunkfuls of Oriental dresses, though Lakmeneeds but few. There were gorgeous uniforms for the British soldiers, the real article, each scarlet coat and every top boot having a pieceof history attached, and models of the scenery which any doubtingThomas of a newspaper reporter might inspect if he felt so disposed. When the redoubtable colonel came it was to be only a matter of a weekor so before the opera would be put on the stage in the finest ofstyles; it was still a matter of a week or so when the Academy seasoncame to an end. When Delibes's exquisite and exotic music reached ahearing in the American metropolis, it was sung to English words, andthe most emphatic success achieved in performance was the acrobatic oneof Mme. L'Allemand as she rolled down some uncalled-for pagoda steps inthe death scene. 

Mme. Adelina Patti was the second Lakme heard in New York. After thefifth season of German opera at the Metropolitan Opera House had cometo an end in the spring of 1890, Messrs. Abbey and Grau took thetheatre for a short season of Italian opera by a troupe headed by Mme. Patti. In that season "Lakme" was sung once--on April 2, 1890. Now camean opportunity for the original representative of the heroine. Abbeyand Grau resumed the management of the theatre in 1891, and in theircompany was Miss Van Zandt, for whom the opera was "revived" onFebruary 22. Mr. Abbey had great expectations, but they weredisappointed. For the public there was metal more attractive than MissVan Zandt and the Hindu opera in other members of the company and otheroperas. It was the year of Emma Eames's coming and also of Jean deReszke's (they sang together in Gounod's "Romeo et Juliette") and"Cavalleria Rusticana" was new. Then Delibes's opera hibernated in NewYork for fifteen years, after which the presence in the Metropolitancompany of Mme. Marcella Sembrich led to another "revival. " (Operaswhich are unperformed for a term of two or three years after havingbeen once included in the repertory are "revived" in New York. ) It wassung three times in the season of 1906-1907. It also afforded one ofMr. Hammerstein's many surprises at the Manhattan Opera House. Fivedays before the close of his last season, on March 21, 1910, it wasprecipitated on the stage ("pitchforked" is the popular andprofessional term) to give Mme. Tetrazzini a chance to sing the bellsong. Altogether I know of no more singular history than that of"Lakme" in New York. 

Lakme is a child of the theatrical boards, who inherited traits fromseveral predecessors, the strongest being those deriving from Aida andSelika. Like the former, she loves a man whom her father believes to bethe arch enemy of his native land, and, like her, she is the means ofbetraying him into the hands of the avenger. Like the heroine ofMeyerbeer's posthumous opera, she has a fatal acquaintance withtropical botany and uses her knowledge to her own destruction. Herscientific attainments are on about the same plane as her amiability, her abnormal sense of filial duty, and her musical accomplishments. Sheloves a man whom her father wishes her to lure to his death by hersinging, and she sings entrancingly enough to bring about the meetingbetween her lover's back and her father's knife. That she does notwarble herself into the position of "particeps criminis" in a murdershe owes only to the bungling of the old man. Having done this, however, she turns physician and nurse and brings the wounded man backto health, thus sacrificing her love to the duty which her lover thinkshe owes to the invaders of her country and oppressors of her people. After this she makes the fatal application of her botanical knowledge. Such things come about when one goes to India for an operatic heroine. 

The feature of the libretto which Delibes has used to the best purposeis its local color. His music is saturated with the languorous spiritof the East. Half a dozen of the melodies are lovely inventions, ofmarked originality in both matter and treatment, and the first halfhour of the opera is apt to take one's fancy completely captive. Thedrawback lies in the oppressive weariness which succeeds the firsttrance, and is brought on by the monotonous character of the music. After an hour of "Lakme" one yearns for a few crashing chords of Cmajor as a person enduring suffocation longs for a gush of fresh air. The music first grows monotonous, then wearies. Delibes's lyricalmoments show the most numerous indications of beauty; dramatic life andenergy are absent from the score. In the second act he moves hislisteners only once--with the attempted repetition of the bell songafter Lakme has recognized her lover. The odor of the poppy invites todrowsy enjoyment in the beginning, and the first act is far and awaythe most gratifying in the opera, musically as well as scenically. Itwould be so if it contained only Lakme's song "Pourquoi dans les grandsbois, " the exquisite barcarole--a veritable treasure trove for thecomposer, who used its melody dramatically throughout the work--andGerald's air, "Fantaisie aux divins mensonges. " Real depth will belooked for in vain in this opera; superficial loveliness is apparent onat least half its pages. 

CHAPTER VIII

"PAGLIACCl"

For a quarter of a century "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci" havebeen the Castor and Pollux of the operatic theatres of Europe andAmerica. Together they have joined the hunt of venturesome impresariosfor that Calydonian boar, success; together they have lighted the waythrough seasons of tempestuous stress and storm. Of recent years at theMetropolitan Opera House in New York efforts have been made to divorcethem and to find associates for one or the other, since neither issufficient in time for an evening's entertainment; but they refuse tobe put asunder as steadfastly as did the twin brothers of Helen andClytemnestra. There has been no operatic Zeus powerful enough toseparate and alternate their existences even for a day; and thoughblase critics will continue to rail at the "double bill" as they havedone for two decades or more, the two fierce little dramas will "sitshining on the sails" of many a managerial ship and bring it safe tohaven for many a year to come. 

Twins the operas are in spirit; twins in their capacity as supremerepresentatives of verismo; twins in the fitness of their association;but twins they are not in respect of parentage or age. "CavalleriaRusticana" is two years older than "Pagliacci" and as truly itsprogenitor as Weber's operas were the progenitors of Wagner's. They arethe offspring of the same artistic movement, and it was the phenomenal

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

success of Mascagni's opera which was the spur that drove Leoncavalloto write his. When "Cavalleria Rusticana" appeared on the scene, twogenerations of opera-goers had passed away without experiencinganything like the sensation caused by this opera. They had witnessedthe production, indeed, of great masterpieces, which it would be almostsacrilegious to mention in the same breath with Mascagni's turbulentand torrential tragedy, but these works were the productions of maturemasters, from whom things monumental and lasting were expected as amatter of course; men like Wagner and Verdi. The generations had alsoseen the coming of "Carmen" and gradually opened their minds to anappreciation of its meaning and beauty, while the youthful genius whohad created it sank almost unnoticed into his grave; but they had notseen the advent of a work which almost in a day set the world on fireand raised an unknown musician from penury and obscurity to affluenceand fame. In the face of such an experience it was scarcely to bewondered at that judgment was flung to the winds and that the mostvolatile of musical nations and the staidest alike hailed the youngcomposer as the successor of Verdi, the regenerator of operatic Italy, and the pioneer of a new school which should revitalize opera and makeunnecessary the hopeless task of trying to work along the lines laiddown by Wagner. 

And this opera was the outcome of a competition based on the frankestkind of commercialism--one of those "occasionals" from which we havebeen taught to believe we ought never to expect anything of ideal andlasting merit. "Pagliacci" was, in a way, a fruit of the samecompetition. Three years before "Cavalleria Rusticana" had started theuniversal conflagration Ruggiero Leoncavallo, who at sixteen years ofage had won his diploma at the Naples Conservatory and received thedegree of Doctor of Letters from the University of Bologna at twenty, had read his dramatic poem "I Medici" to the publisher Ricordi and beencommissioned to set it to music. For this work he was to receive 2400francs. He completed the composition within a year, but there was nocontract that the opera should be performed, and this hoped-forconsummation did not follow. Then came Mascagni's triumph, andLeoncavallo, who had been obliged meanwhile to return to the routinework of an operatic repetiteur, lost patience. Satisfied that Ricordiwould never do anything more for him, and become desperate, he shuthimself in his room to attempt "one more work"--as he said in anautobiographical sketch which appeared in "La Reforme, " a journalpublished in Alexandria. In five months he had written the book andmusic of "Pagliacci, " which was accepted for publication and productionby Sonzogno, Ricordi's business rival, after a single reading of thepoem. Maurel, whose friendship Leoncavallo had made while coachingopera singers in Paris, used his influence in favor of the opera, offered to create the part of Tonio, and did so at the firstperformance of the opera at the Teatro dal Verme, Milan, on May 17, 1892. 

Leoncavallo's opera turns on a tragical ending to a comedy which isincorporated in the play. The comedy is a familiar one among thestrolling players who perform at village fairs in Italy, in whichColumbina, Pagliaccio, and Arlecchino (respectively the Columbine, Clown, and Harlequin of our pantomime) take part. Pagliaccio is husbandto Colombina and Arlecchino is her lover, who hoodwinks Pagliaccio. There is a fourth character, Taddeo, a servant, who makes foolish loveto Columbina and, mingling imbecile stupidity with maliciousness, delights in the domestic discord which he helps to foment. The firstact of the opera may be looked upon as an induction to the conventionalcomedy which comes to an unconventional and tragic end through the factthat the Clown (Canio) is in real life the husband of Columbine (Nedda)and is murderously jealous of her; wherefore, forgetting himself in amad rage, he kills her and her lover in the midst of the mimic scene. The lover, however, is not the Harlequin of the comedy, but one of thespectators whom Canio had vainly sought to identify, but who isunconsciously betrayed by his mistress in her death agony. The Taddeoof the comedy is the clown of the company, who in real life entertainsa passion for Nedda, which is repulsed, whereupon he also carries hispart into actuality and betrays Nedda's secret to Canio. It is in theingenious interweaving of these threads--the weft of reality with thewarp of simulation--that the chief dramatic value of Leoncavallo'sopera lies. 

Actual murder by a man while apparently playing a part in a drama isolder as a dramatic motif than "Pagliacci, " and Leoncavallo'semployment of it gave rise to an interesting controversy and a stillmore interesting revelation in the early days of the opera. Oldtheatre-goers in England and America remember the device as it wasemployed in Dennery's "Paillaisse, " known on the English stage as"Belphegor, the Mountebank. " In 1874 Paul Ferrier produced a playentitled "Tabarin, " in which Coquelin appeared at the Theatre Francais. Thirteen years later Catulle Mendes brought out another play called "LaFemme de Tabarin, " for which Chabrier wrote the incidental music. Thecritics were prompt in charging Mendes with having plagiarized Ferrier, and the former defended himself on the ground that the incident whichhe had employed, of actual murder in a dramatic performance, washistorical and had often been used. This, however, did not prevent himfrom bringing an accusation of theft against Leoncavallo when"Pagliacci" was announced for production in French at Brussels and ofbeginning legal proceedings against the composer and his publisher onthat score. The controversy which followed showed very plainly thatMendes did not have a leg to stand upon either in law or equity, and hewithdrew his suit and made a handsome amende in a letter to the editorof "Le Figaro. " Before this was done, however, Signor Leoncavallo wrotea letter to his publisher, which not only established that the incidentin question was based upon fact but directed attention to a dramaticuse of the motif in a Spanish play written thirty-five years before theoccurrence which was in the mind of Leoncavallo. The letter was asfollows:--

Lugano, Sept. 3, 1894. 

Dear Signor Sonzogno. 

I have read Catulle Mendes's two letters. M. Mendes goes pretty far indeclaring a priori that "Pagliacci" is an imitation of his "Femme deTabarin. " I had not known this book, and only know it now through theaccounts given in the daily papers. You will remember that at the timeof the first performance of "Pagliacci" at Milan in 1892 severalcritics accused me of having taken the subject of my opera from the"Drama Nuevo" of the well known Spanish writer, Estebanez. What wouldM. Mendes say if he were accused of having taken the plot of "La Femmede Tabarin" from the "Drama Nuevo, " which dates back to 1830 or 1840?As a fact, a husband, a comedian, kills in the last scene the lover ofhis wife before her eyes while he only appears to play his part in thepiece. 

It is absolutely true that I knew at that time no more of the "DramaNuevo" than I know now of "La Femme de Tabarin. " I saw the firstmentioned work in Rome represented by Novelli six months after"Pagliacci's" first production in Milan. In my childhood, while myfather was judge at Montalto, in Calabria (the scene of the opera'splot), a jealous player killed his wife after the performance. Thisevent made a deep and lasting impression on my childish mind, the moresince my father was the judge at the criminal's trial; and later, whenI took up dramatic work, I used this episode for a drama. I left theframe of the piece as I saw it, and it can be seen now at the Festivalof Madonna della Serra, at Montalto. The clowns arrive a week or tendays before the festival, which takes place on August 15, to put uptheir tents and booths in the open space which reaches from the churchtoward the fields. I have not even invented the coming of the peasantsfrom Santo Benedetto, a neighboring village, during the chorale. 

What I write now I have mentioned so often in Germany and other partsthat several opera houses, notably that of Berlin, had printed on theirbills "Scene of the true event. " After all this, M. Mendes insisted onhis claim, which means that he does not believe my words. Had I used M. Mendes's ideas I would not have hesitated to open correspondence withhim before the first representation, as I have done now with a wellknown writer who has a subject that I wish to use for a future work. "Pagliacci" is my own, entirely my own. If in this opera, a scenereminds one of M. Mendes's book, it only proves that we both had thesame idea which Estebanez had before us. On my honor and conscience Iassure you that I have read but two of M. Mendes's books in mylife--"Zo Hur" and "La Premiere Maitresse. " When I read at Marienbad alittle while ago the newspaper notices on the production of "La Femmede Tabarin" I even wrote to you, dear Signor Sonzogno, thinking thiswas an imitation of "Pagliacci. " This assertion will suffice, comingfrom an honorable man, to prove my loyalty. If not, then I will placemy undoubted rights under the protection of the law, and furnishincontestable proof of what I have stated here. I have the honor, etc. , etc. 

At various times and in various manners, by letters and in newspaperinterviews, Leoncavallo reiterated the statement that the incidentwhich he had witnessed as a boy in his father's courtroom had suggestedhis drama. The chief actor in the incident, he said, was still living. After conviction he was asked if he felt penitent. The rough voicewhich rang through the room years before still echoed in Leoncavallo'sears: "I repent me of nothing! On the contrary, if I had it to do overagain I'd do it again!" (Non mi pento del delitto! Tutt altro. Sedovessi ricominciare, ricomincerei!) He was sentenced to imprisonmentand after the expiration of his term took service in a little Calabriantown with Baroness Sproniere. If Mendes had prosecuted his action, "poor Alessandro" was ready to appear as a witness and tell the storywhich Leoncavallo had dramatized. 

I have never seen "La Femme de Tabarin" and must rely on Mr. PhilipHale, fecund fountain of informal information, for an outline of theplay which "Pagliacci" called back into public notice: Francisquine, the wife of Tabarin, irons her petticoats in the players' booth. Amusketeer saunters along, stops and makes love to her. She listensgreedily. Tabarin enters just after she has made an appointment withthe man. Tabarin is drunk--drunker than usual. He adores his wife; hefalls at her feet; he entreats her; he threatens her. Meanwhile thecrowd gathers to see the "parade. " Tabarin mounts the platform andtells openly of his jealousy. He calls his wife; she does not answer. He opens the curtain behind him; then he sees her in the arms of themusketeer. Tabarin snatches up a sword, stabs his wife in the breastand comes back to the stage with starting eyes and hoarse voice. Thecrowd marvels at the passion of his play. Francisquine, bloody, dragsherself along the boards. She chokes; she cannot speak. Tabarin, madwith despair, gives her the sword, begs her to kill him. She seizes thesword, raises herself, hiccoughs, gasps out the word "Canaille, " anddies before she can strike. 

Paul Ferrier and Emanuel Pessard produced a grand opera in two actsentitled "Tabarin" in Paris in 1885; Alboiz and Andre a comic operawith the same title, music by Georges Bousquet, in 1852. Gilles andFurpilles brought out an operetta called "Tabarin Duelliste, " withmusic by Leon Pillaut, in 1866. The works seem to have had only thename of the hero in common. Their stories bear no likeness to those of"La Femme de Tabarin" or "Pagliacci. " The Spanish play, "Drama Nuevo, "by Estebanez, was adapted for performance in English by Mr. W. D. Howells under the title "Yorick's Love. " The translation was made forMr. Lawrence Barrett and was never published in book form. If it hadthe denouement suggested in Leoncavallo's letter to Sonzogno, the facthas escaped the memory of Mr. Howells, who, in answer to a letter ofinquiry which I sent him, wrote: "So far as I can remember there was nolikeness between 'Yorick's Love' and 'Pagliacci. ' But when I made myversion I had not seen or heard 'Pagliacci. '"

The title of Leoncavallo's opera is "Pagliacci, " not "I Pagliacci" asit frequently appears in books and newspapers. When the opera wasbrought out in the vernacular, Mr. Frederick E. Weatherly, who made theEnglish adaptation, called the play and the character assumed by Canioin the comedy "Punchinello. " This evoked an interesting comment fromMr. Hale: "'Pagliacci' is the plural of Pagliaccio, which does not meanand never did mean Punchinello. What is a Pagliaccio? A type long knownto the Italians, and familiar to the French as Paillasse. ThePagliaccio visited Paris first in 1570. He was clothed in white andwore big buttons. Later, he wore a suit of bedtick, with white and bluechecks, the coarse mattress cloth of the period. Hence his name. Theword that meant straw was afterward used for mattress which was stuffedwith straw and then for the buffoon, who wore the mattress cloth suit. In France the Paillasse, as I have said, was the same as Pagliaccio. Sometimes he wore a red checked suit, but the genuine one was known bythe colors, white and blue. He wore blue stockings, short breechespuffing out a la blouse, a belted blouse and a black, close-fittingcap. This buffoon was seen at shows of strolling mountebanks. He stoodoutside the booth and by his jests and antics and grimaces strove toattract the attention of the people, and he told them of the wondersperformed by acrobats within, of the freaks exhibited. Many of hisjests are preserved. They are often in dialogue with the proprietor andare generally of vile indecency. The lowest of the strollers, he wasabused by them. The Italian Pagliaccio is a species of clown, andPunchinello was never a mere buffoon. The Punch of the puppet-show is abastard descendant of the latter, but the original type is still seenin Naples, where he wears a white costume and a black mask. Theoriginal type was not necessarily humpbacked. Punchinello is a shrewdfellow, intellectual, yet in touch with the people, cynical; nothesitating at murder if he can make by it; at the same time a localsatirist, a dealer in gags and quips. Pagliacci is perhaps besttranslated by 'clowns'; but the latter word must not be taken in itsrestricted circus sense. These strolling clowns are pantomimists, singers, comedians. "

At the first performance of "Pagliacci" in Milan the cast was asfollows: Canio, Geraud; Tonio, Maurel; Silvio, Ancona; Peppe, Daddi;Nedda, Mme. Stehle. The first performance in America was by theHinrichs Grand Opera Company, at the Grand Opera House, New York, onJune 15, 1893; Selma Kronold was the Nedda, Montegriffo the Canio, andCampanari the Tonio. The opera was incorporated in the Metropolitanrepertory in the season of 1893-1894. 

Rinuccini's "Dafne, " which was written 300 years ago and more, beginswith a prologue which was spoken in the character of the poet Ovid. Leoncavallo's "Pagliacci" also begins with a prologue, but it is spokenby one of the people of the play; whether in his character as Tonio ofthe tragedy or Pagliaccio of the comedy there is no telling. He speaksthe sentiments of the one and wears the motley of the other. Text andmusic, however, are ingeniously contrived to serve as an index to thepurposes of the poet and the method and material of the composer. Inhis speech the prologue tells us that the author of the play is fond ofthe ancient custom of such an introduction, but not of the old purpose. He does not employ it for the purpose of proclaiming that the tears andpassions of the actors are but simulated and false. No! He wishes tolet us know that his play is drawn from life as it is--that it is true. It welled up within him when memories of the past sang in his heart andwas written down to show us that actors are human beings like untoourselves. 

An unnecessary preachment, and if listened to with a criticaldisposition rather an impertinence, as calculated to rob us of thepleasure of illusion which it is the province of the drama to give. Closely analyzed, Tonio's speech is very much of a piece with theprologue which Bully Bottom wanted for the play of "Pyramus" inShakespeare's comedy. We are asked to see a play. In this play there isanother play. In this other play one of the actors plays atcross-purposes with the author--forgets his lines and himselfaltogether and becomes in reality the man that he seems to be in thefirst play. The prologue deliberately aims to deprive us of the thrillof surprise at the unexpected denouement, simply that he may tell uswhat we already know as well as he, that an actor is a human being. 

Plainly then, from a didactic point of view, this prologue is agratuitous impertinence. Not so its music. Structurally, it is littlemore than a loose-jointed pot-pourri; but it serves the purpose of athematic catalogue to the chief melodic incidents of the play which isto follow. In this it bears a faint resemblance to the introduction toBerlioz's "Romeo and Juliet" symphony. It begins with an energeticfigure, [figure: a musical score excerpt]

which is immediately followed by an upward scale-passage with a saucyflourish at the end--not unlike the crack of a whiplash:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

It helps admirably to picture the bustling activity of the festa intowhich we are soon to be precipitated. The bits of melody which are nowintroduced might all be labelled in the Wolzogen-Wagner manner withreference to the play's peoples and their passions if it were worthwhile to do so, or if their beauty and eloquence were not sufficientunto themselves. First we have the phrase in which Canio will tell ushow a clown's heart must seem merry and make laughter though it bebreaking:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Next the phrase from the love music of Nedda and Silvio:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

The bustling music returns, develops great energy, then pauses, hesitates, and makes way for Tonio, who, putting his head through thecurtain, politely asks permission of the audience, steps forward anddelivers his homily, which is alternately declamatory and broadlymelodious. One of his melodies later becomes the theme of thebetween-acts music, which separates the supposedly real life of thestrolling players from the comedy which they present to the mimicaudience:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

At last Tonio calls upon his fellow mountebanks to begin their play. The curtain rises. We are in the midst of a rural celebration of theFeast of the Assumption on the outskirts of a village in Calabria. Aperambulant theatre has been set up among the trees and the strollingactors are arriving, accompanied by a crowd of villagers, who shoutgreetings to Clown, Columbine, and Harlequin. Nedda arrives in a cartdrawn by a donkey led by Beppe. Canio in character invites the crowd tocome to the show at 7 o'clock (ventitre ore). There they shall beregaled with a sight of the domestic troubles of Pagliaccio and see thefat mischief-maker tremble. Tonio wants to help Nedda out of the cart, but Canio interferes and lifts her down himself; whereupon the womenand boys twit Tonio. Canio and Beppe wet their whistles at the tavern, but Tonio remains behind on the plea that he must curry the donkey. Thehospitable villager playfully suggests that it is Tonio's purpose tomake love to Nedda. Canio, half in earnest, half in jest, points outthe difference between real life and the stage. In the play, if hecatches a lover with his wife, he flies into a mock passion, preaches asermon, and takes a drubbing from the swain to the amusement of theaudience. But there would be a different ending to the story were Neddaactually to deceive him. Let Tonio beware! Does he doubt Nedda'sfidelity? Not at all. He loves her and seals his assurance with a kiss. Then off to the tavern. 

Hark to the bagpipes! Huzza, here come the zampognari! Drone pipesdroning and chaunters skirling--as well as they can skirl in Italian!

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Now we have people and pipers on the stage and there's a bell in thesteeple ringing for vespers. Therefore a chorus. Not that we haveanything to say that concerns the story in any way. "Din, don!" Thatwould suffice, but if you must have more: "Let's to church. Din, don. All's right with love and the sunset. Din, don! But mamma has her eyeon the young folk and their inclination for kissing. Din, don!" Bellsand pipes are echoed by the singers. 

Her husband is gone to the tavern for refreshment and Nedda is leftalone. There is a little trouble in her mind caused by the fiercenessof Canio's voice and looks. Does he suspect? But why yield to suchfancies and fears? How beautiful the mid-August sun is! Her hopes andlongings find expression in the "Ballatella"--a waltz tune with twitterof birds and rustle of leaves for accompaniment. Pretty birds, whereare you going? What is it you say? Mother knew your song and used onceto tell it to her babe. How your wings flash through the ether!Heedless of cloud and tempest, on, on, past the stars, and still on!Her wishes take flight with the feathered songsters, but Tonio bringsher rudely to earth. He pleads for a return of the love which he sayshe bears her, but she bids him postpone his protestations till he canmake them in the play. He grows desperately urgent and attempts to rapea kiss. She cuts him across the face with a donkey whip, and he goesaway blaspheming and swearing vengeance. 

Then Silvio comes--Silvio, the villager, who loves her and who has herheart. She fears he will be discovered, but he bids her be at peace; hehad left Canio drinking at the tavern. She tells him of the scene withTonio and warns him, but he laughs at her fears. Then he pleads withher. She does not love her husband; she is weary of the wandering lifewhich she is forced to lead; if her love is true let her fly with himto happiness. No. 'Tis folly, madness; her heart is his, but he mustnot tempt her to its destruction. Tonio slinks in and playseavesdropper. He hears the mutual protestations of the lovers, hearsNedda yield to Silvio's wild pleadings, sees them locked in eachother's arms, and hurries off to fetch Canio. Canio comes, but not intime to see the man who had climbed over the wall, yet in time to hearNedda's word of parting: A stanotte--e per sempre tua saro--"To-night, and forever, I am yours!" He throws Nedda aside and gives chase afterthe fugitive, but is baffled. He demands to be told the name of herlover. Nedda refuses to answer. He rushes upon her with dagger drawn, but Beppe intercepts and disarms him. There is haste now; the villagersare already gathering for the play. Tonio insinuates his wicked advice:Let us dissemble; the gallant may be caught at the play. The others goout to prepare for their labors. Canio staggers toward the theatre. Hemust act the merry fool, though his heart be torn! Why not? What is he?A man? No; a clown! On with the motley! The public must be amused. Whatthough Harlequin steals his Columbine? Laugh, Pagliaccio, though thyheart break!

The between-acts music is retrospective; it comments on the tragicemotions, the pathos foretold in the prologue. Act II brings the comedywhich is to have a realistic and bloody ending. The villagers gatherand struggle for places in front of the booth. Among them is Silvio, towhom Nedda speaks a word of warning as she passes him while collectingthe admission fees. He reminds her of the assignation; she will bethere. The comedy begins to the music of a graceful minuet:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Columbine is waiting for Harlequin. Taddeo is at the market buying thesupper for the mimic lovers. Harlequin sings his serenade under thewindow: "O, Colombina, il tenero fido Arlecchin"--a pretty measure!Taddeo enters and pours out his admiration for Colombina in anexaggerated cadenza as he offers her his basket of purchases. Theaudience shows enjoyment of the sport. Taddeo makes love to Colombinaand Harlequin, entering by the window, lifts him up by the ears fromthe floor where he is kneeling and kicks him out of the room. What fun!The mimic lovers sit at table and discuss the supper and their love. Taddeo enters in mock alarm to tell of the coming of Pagliaccio. Harlequin decamps, but leaves a philtre in the hands of Columbine to bepoured into her husband's wine. At the window Columbine calls afterhim: A stanotte--e per sempre io saro tua! At this moment Canio entersin the character of Pagliaccio. He hears again the words which Neddahad called after the fleeing Silvio, and for a moment is startled outof his character. But he collects himself and begins to play his part. "A man has been here!" "You've been drinking!" The dialogue of thecomedy continues, but ever and anon with difficulty on the part ofPagliaccio, who begins to put a sinister inflection into his words. Taddeo is dragged from the cupboard in which he had taken hiding. He, too, puts color of verity into his lines, especially when he pratesabout the purity of Columbine. Canio loses control of himself more andmore. "Pagliaccio no more, but a man--a man seeking vengeance. The nameof your lover!" The audience is moved by his intensity. Silvio betraysanxiety. Canio rages on. "The name, the name!" The mimic audienceshouts, "Bravo!" Nedda: if he doubts her she will go. "No, by God!You'll remain and tell me the name of your lover!" With a great effortNedda forces herself to remain in character. The music, whose trippingdance measures have given way to sinister mutterings in keeping withCanio's mad outbursts, as the mimic play ever and anon threatens toleave its grooves and plunge into the tragic vortex of reality, changesto a gavotte:--

[figure: a musical excerpt]

Columbine explains: she had no idea her husband could put on sotragical a mask. It is only harmless Harlequin who has been hercompanion. "The name! The name!! THE NAME!!!" Nedda sees catastropheapproaching and throws her character to the winds. She shrieks out adefiant "No!" and attempts to escape from the mimic stage. Silviostarts up with dagger drawn. The spectators rise in confusion and cry"Stop him!" Canio seizes Nedda and plunges his knife into her: "Takethat! And that! With thy dying gasps thou'lt tell me!" Woful intuition!Dying, Nedda calls: "Help, Silvio!" Silvio rushes forward and receivesCanio's knife in his heart. "Gesumaria!" shriek the women. Men throwthemselves upon Canio. He stands for a moment in a stupor, drops hisknife and speaks the words: "The comedy is ended. " "Ridi Pagliaccio!"shrieks the orchestra as the curtain falls. 

"Plaudite, amici, " said Beethoven on his death bed, "la commedia finitaest!" And there is a tradition that these, too, were the last words ofthe arch-jester Rabelais. "When 'Pagliacci' was first sung here (inBoston), by the Tavary company, " says Mr. Philip Hale, "Tonio pointedto the dead bodies and uttered the sentence in a mocking way. And thereis a report that such was Leoncavallo's original intention. As theTonio began the piece in explanation so he should end it. But the tenor(de Lucia) insisted that he should speak the line. I do not believe thestory. (1) As Maurel was the original Tonio and the tenor wascomparatively unknown, it is doubtful whether Maurel, of all men, wouldhave allowed of the loss of a fat line. (2) As Canio is chief of thecompany it is eminently proper that he should make the announcement tothe crowd. (3) The ghastly irony is accentuated by the speech when itcomes from Canio's mouth. "

CHAPTER IX

"CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA"

Having neither the patience nor the inclination to paraphrase a commenton Mascagni's "Cavalleria Rusticana" which I wrote years ago when theopera was comparatively new, and as it appears to me to contain a justestimate and criticism of the work and the school of which it and"Pagliacci" remain the foremost exemplars, I quote from my book, "Chapters of Opera" [Footnote: "Chapters of Opera, " by H. E. Krehbiel, p. 223] "Seventeen years ago 'Cavalleria Rusticana' had no perspective. Now, though but a small portion of its progeny has been brought to ournotice, we nevertheless look at it through a vista which looks like avalley of moral and physical death through which there flows a sluggishstream thick with filth and red with blood. Strangely enough, in spiteof the consequences which have followed it, the fierce little dramaretains its old potency. It still speaks with a voice which sounds likethe voice of truth. Its music still makes the nerves tingle, andcarries our feelings unresistingly on its turbulent current. But thestage-picture is less sanguinary than it looked in the beginning. Itseems to have receded a millennium in time. It has the terriblefierceness of an Attic tragedy, but it also has the decorum which theAttic tragedy never violated. There is no slaughter in the presence ofthe audience, despite the humbleness of its personages. It does notkeep us perpetually in sight of the shambles. It is, indeed, anexposition of chivalry; rustic, but chivalry nevertheless. It was thusClytemnestra slew her husband, and Orestes his mother. Note thecontrast which the duel between Alfio and Turiddu presents with thedouble murder to the piquant accompaniment of comedy in 'Pagliacci, 'the opera which followed so hard upon its heels. Since then piquancyhas been the cry; the piquant contemplation of adultery, seduction, andmurder amid the reek and stench of the Italian barnyard. Think ofCilea's 'Tilda, ' Giordano's 'Mala Vita, ' Spinelli's 'A Basso Porto, 'and Tasca's 'A Santa Lucia'!

"The stories chosen for operatic treatment by the champions of verismoare all alike. It is their filth and blood which fructifies the music, which rasps the nerves even as the plays revolt the moral stomach. Irepeat: Looking back over the time during which this so-called veritismhas held its orgies, 'Cavalleria Rusticana' seems almost classic. Itsmusic is highly spiced and tastes 'hot i' th' mouth, ' but its eloquenceis, after all, in its eager, pulsating, passionate melody--like themusic which Verdi wrote more than half a century ago for the last actof 'Il Trovatore. ' If neither Mascagni himself nor his imitators havesucceeded in equalling it since, it is because they have thought toomuch of the external devices of abrupt and uncouth change of modes andtonalities, of exotic scales and garish orchestration, and too littleof the fundamental element of melody which once was the be-all andend-all of Italian music. Another fountain of gushing melody must beopened before 'Cavalleria rusticana' finds a successor in all thingsworthy of the succession. Ingenious artifice, reflection, and technicalcleverness will not suffice even with the blood and mud of the slums asa fertilizer. "

How Mascagni came to write his opera he has himself told us in a brightsketch of the early part of his life-history which was printed in the"Fanfulla della Domenica" of Rome shortly after he became famous. Recounting the story of his struggle for existence after entering uponhis career, he wrote:--

In 1888 only a few scenes (of "Ratcliff") remained to be composed; butI let them lie and have not touched them since. The thought of"Cavalleria rusticana" had been in my head for several years. I wantedto introduce myself with, a work of small dimensions. I appealed toseveral librettists, but none was willing to undertake the work withouta guarantee of recompense. Then came notice of the Sonzogno competitionand I eagerly seized the opportunity to better my condition. But mysalary of 100 lire, to which nothing was added, except the fees from afew pianoforte lessons in Cerignola and two lessons in the PhilharmonicSociety of Canosa (a little town a few miles from Cerignola), did notpermit the luxury of a libretto. At the solicitation of some friendsTargioni, in Leghorn, decided to write a "Cavalleria rusticana" for me. My mind was long occupied with the finale. The words: Hanno ammazzatocompare Turiddu! (They have killed Neighbor Turiddu!) were foreverringing in my ears. I needed a few mighty orchestral chords to givecharacteristic form to the musical phrase and achieve an impressiveclose. How it happened I don't know, but one morning, as I was trudgingalong the road to give my lessons at Canosa, the idea came to me like astroke of lightning, and I had found my chords. They were those seventhchords, which I conscientiously set down in my manuscript. 

Thus I began my opera at the end. When I received the first chorus ofmy libretto by post (I composed the Siciliano in the prelude later) Isaid in great good humor to my wife:

"To-day we must make a large expenditure. "

"What for?"

"An alarm clock. "

"Why?"

"To wake me up before dawn so that I may begin to write on 'Cavalleriarusticana. '"

The expenditure caused a dubious change in the monthly budget, but itwas willingly allowed. We went out together, and after a good deal ofbargaining spent nine lire. I am sure that I can find the clock, allsafe and sound, in Cerignola. I wound it up the evening we bought it, but it was destined to be of no service to me, for in that night a son, the first of a row of them, was born to me. In spite of this I carriedout my determination, and in the morning began to write the firstchorus of "Cavalleria. " I came to Rome in February, 1890, in order topermit the jury to hear my opera; they decided that it was worthy ofperformance. Returning to Cerignola in a state of the greatestexcitement, I noticed that I did not have a penny in my pocket for thereturn trip to Rome when my opera was to be rehearsed. Signor Sonzognohelped me out of my embarrassment with a few hundred francs. 

Those beautiful days of fear and hope, of discouragement andconfidence, are as vividly before my eyes as if they were now. I seeagain the Constanzi Theatre, half filled; I see how, after the lastexcited measures of the orchestra, they all raise their arms andgesticulate, as if they were threatening me; and in my soul thereawakens an echo of that cry of approval which almost prostrated me. Theeffect made upon me was so powerful that at the second representation Ihad to request them to turn down the footlights in case I should becalled out; for the blinding light seemed a hell to me, like a fieryabyss that threatened to engulf me. 

It is a rude little tale which Giovanni Verga wrote and which suppliedthe librettists, G. Targioni-Tozzetti and G. Menasci, with the plot ofMascagni's opera. Sententious as the opera seems, it is yet puffed out, padded, and bedizened with unessential ornament compared with thestory. This has the simplicity and directness of a folk-tale orfolk-song, and much of its characteristic color and strength were lostin fitting it out for music. The play, which Signora Duse presented tous with a power which no operatic singer can ever hope to match, wasmore to the purpose, quicker and stronger in movement, fiercer in itsonrush of passion, and more pathetic in its silences than the operawith its music, though the note of pathos sounded by Signor Mascagni isthe most admirable element of the score. With half a dozen homelytouches Verga conjures up the life of a Sicilian village and strikesout his characters in bold outline. Turiddu Macca, son of Nunzia, is abersagliere returned from service. He struts about the village streetsin his uniform, smoking a pipe carved with an image of the king onhorseback, which he lights with a match fired by a scratch on the seatof his trousers, "lifting his leg as if for a kick. " Lola, daughter ofMassaro Angelo, was his sweetheart when he was conscripted, butmeanwhile she has promised to marry Alfio, a teamster from Licodia, whohas four Sortino mules in his stable. Now Turiddu could do nothingbetter than sing spiteful songs under her window. 

Lola married the teamster, and on Sundays she would sit in the yardwith her hands posed on her hips to show off the thick gold rings whichher husband had given her. Opposite Alfio's house lived Massaro Cola, who was as rich as a hog, as they said, and who had an only daughternamed Santa. Turiddu, to spite Lola, paid his addresses to Santa andwhispered sweet words into her ear. 

"Why don't you go and say these nice things to Lola?" asked Santa oneday. 

"Lola is a fine lady now; she has married a crown prince. But you areworth a thousand Lolas; she isn't worthy of wearing your old shoes. Icould just eat you up with my eyes, Santa"--thus Turiddu. 

"You may eat me with your eyes and welcome, for then there will be noleaving of crumbs. "

"If I were rich I would like to have a wife just like you. "

"I shall never marry a crown prince, but I shall have a dowry as wellas Lola when the good Lord sends me a lover. "

The tassel on his cap had tickled the girl's fancy. Her fatherdisapproved of the young soldier, and turned him from his door; butSanta opened her window to him until the village gossips got busy withher name and his. Lola listened to the talk of the lovers from behind avase of flowers. One day she called after Turiddu: "Ah, Turiddu! Oldfriends are no longer noticed, eh?"

"He is a happy man who has the chance of seeing you, Lola. "

"You know where I live, " answered Lola. And now Turiddu visited Lola sooften that Santa shut her window in his face and the villagers began tosmile knowingly when he passed by. Alfio was making a round of thefairs with his mules. "Next Sunday I must go to confession, " said Lolaone day, "for last night I dreamt that I saw black grapes. "

"Never mind the dream, " pleaded Turiddu. 

"But Easter is coming, and my husband will want to know why I have notconfessed. "

Santa was before the confessional waiting her turn when Lola wasreceiving absolution. "I wouldn't send you to Rome for absolution, " shesaid. Alfio came home with his mules, and money and a rich holidaydress for his wife. 

"You do well to bring presents to her, " said Santa to him, "for whenyou are away your wife adorns your head for you. "

"Holy Devil!" screamed Alfio. "Be sure of what you are saying, or I'llnot leave you an eye to cry with!"

"I am not in the habit of crying. I haven't wept even when I have seenTuriddu going into your wife's house at night. "

"Enough!" said Alfio. "I thank you very much. "

The cat having come back home, Turiddu kept off the streets by day, butin the evenings consoled himself with his friends at the tavern. Theywere enjoying a dish of sausages there on Easter eve. When Alfio camein Turiddu understood what he wanted by the way he fixed his eyes onhim. "You know what I want to speak to you about, " said Alfio whenTuriddu asked him if he had any commands to give him. He offered Alfioa glass of wine, but it was refused with a wave of the hand. 

"Here I am, " said Turiddu. Alfio put his arms around his neck. "We'lltalk this thing over if you will meet me to-morrow morning. "

"You may look for me on the highway at sunrise, and we will go ontogether. "

They exchanged the kiss of challenge, and Turiddu, as an earnest thathe would be on hand, bit Alfio's ear. His companions left theirsausages uneaten and went home with Turiddu. There his mother wassitting up for him. 

"Mamma, " Turiddu said to her, "do you remember that when I went away tobe a soldier you thought I would never come back? Kiss me as you didthen, mamma, for to-morrow I am going away again. "

Before daybreak he took his knife from the place in the haymow where hehad hidden it when he went soldiering, and went out to meet Alfio. 

"Holy Mother of Jesus!" grumbled Lola when her husband prepared to goout; "where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I am going far away, " answered Alfio, "and it will be better for youif I never come back!"

The two men met on the highway and for a while walked on in silence. Turiddu kept his cap pulled down over his face. "Neighbor Alfio, " hesaid after a space, "as true as I live I know that I have wronged you, and I would let myself be killed if I had not seen my old mother whenshe got up on the pretext of looking after the hens. And now, as trueas I live, I will kill you like a dog so that my dear old mother maynot have cause to weep. "

"Good!" answered Alfio; "we will both strike hard!" And he took off hiscoat. 

Both were good with the knife. Turiddu received the first blow in hisarm, and when he returned it struck for Alfio's heart. 

"Ah, Turiddu! You really do intend to kill me?"

"Yes, I told you so. Since I saw her in the henyard I have my oldmother always in my eyes. "

"Keep those eyes wide open, " shouted Alfio, "for I am going to returnyou good measure!"

Alfio crouched almost to the ground, keeping his left hand on thewound, which pained him. Suddenly he seized a handful of dust and threwit into Turiddu's eyes. 

"Ah!" howled Turiddu, blinded by the dust, "I'm a dead man!" Heattempted to save himself by leaping backward, but Alfio struck him asecond blow, this time in the belly, and a third in the throat. 

"That makes three--the last for the head you have adorned for me!"

Turiddu staggered back into the bushes and fell. He tried to say, "Ah, my dear mother!" but the blood gurgled up in his throat and he couldnot. 

Music lends itself incalculably better to the celebration of a moodaccomplished or achieved by action, physical or psychological, than toan expression of the action itself. It is in the nature of the lyricdrama that this should be so, and there need be no wonder that whereverVerga offered an opportunity for set lyricism it was embraced byMascagni and his librettists. Verga tells us that Turiddu, having lostLola, comforted himself by singing spiteful songs under her window. This suggested the Siciliano, which, an afterthought, Mascagni put intohis prelude as a serenade, not in disparagement, but in praise of Lola. It was at Easter that Alfio returned to discover the infidelity of hiswife, and hence we have an Easter hymn, one of the musical high lightsof the work, though of no dramatic value. Verga aims to awaken at leasta tittle of extenuation and a spark of sympathy for Turiddu by showingus his filial love in conflict with his willingness to make reparationto Alfio; Mascagni and his librettists do more by showing us the figureof the young soldier blending a request for a farewell kiss from hismother with a prayer for protection for the woman he has wronged. Inits delineation of the tender emotions, indeed, the opera is moregenerous and kindly than the story. Santuzza does not betray her loverin cold blood as does Santa, but in the depth of her humiliation and atthe climax of her jealous fury created by Turiddu's rejection of herwhen he follows Lola into church. Moreover, her love opens the gates toremorse the moment she realizes what the consequence of her act is tobe. The opera sacrifices some of the virility of Turiddu's character assketched by Verga, but by its classic treatment of the scene of thekilling it saves us from the contemplation of Alfio's dastardly trickwhich turns a duel into a cowardly assassination. 

The prelude to the opera set the form which Leoncavallo followed, slavishly followed, in "Pagliacci. "

The orchestral proclamation of the moving passions of the play is madeby the use of fragments of melody which in the vocal score markclimaxes in the dialogue. The first high point in the prelude isreached in the strain to which Santuzza begs for the love of Turiddueven after she has disclosed to him her knowledge of his infidelity:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

the second is the broad melody in which she pleads with him to returnto her arms:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Between these expositions falls the Siciliano, which interrupts theinstrumental flood just as Lola's careless song, the Stornello, interrupts the passionate rush of Santuzza's protestations, prayers, and lamentations in the scene between her and her faithless lover:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt setting the words "O Lola, blanca comeflor di spino, quando t'affaci ti s'affaccio il sole"]

These sharp contrasts, heightened by the device of surprise, form oneof the marked characteristics of Mascagni's score and one of the mosteffective. We meet it also in the instrumentation--the harpaccompaniment to the serenade, the pauses which give piquancy to Lola'sditty, the unison violins, harp arpeggios, and sustained organ chordsof the intermezzo. 

When the curtain rises it discloses the open square of a Sicilianvillage, flanked by a church and the inn of Lucia, Turiddu's mother. Itis Easter morning and villagers and peasants are gathering for thePaschal mass. Church bells ring and the orchestra breaks into the eagermelody which a little later we hear combined with the voices which arehymning the pleasant sights and sounds of nature:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt setting the words "tempo e si mormori"]

A charming conception is the regular beat and flux and reflux of thewomen's voices as they sing

[figure: a musical score excerpt setting the words "Gliaranci olezzanosui verdi margini cantando le allo do le tra i mirti in flor . . . "]

Delightful and refreshing is the bustling strain of the men. Thesingers depart with soft exclamations of rapture called out by thecontemplation of nature and thoughts of the Virgin Mother and Child intheir hearts. Comes Santuzza, sore distressed, to Mamma Lucia, toinquire as to the whereabouts of her son Turiddu. Lucia thinks him atFrancofonte; but Santuzza knows that he spent the night in the village. 

In pity for the maiden's distress, Lucia asks her to enter her home, but Santuzza may not--she is excommunicate. Alfio enters withboisterous jollity, singing of his jovial carefree life as a teamsterand his love of home and a faithful wife. It is a paltry measure, endurable only for its offering of contrast, and we will not tarry withit, though the villagers echo it merrily. Alfio, too, has seen Turiddu, and Lucia is about to express her surprise when Santuzza checks her. The hour of devotion is come, and the choir in the church intones the"Regina coeli, " while the people without fall on their knees and singthe Resurrection Hymn. After the first outburst, to which the organappends a brief postlude, Santuzza leads in the canticle, "Innegiamo ilSignor non dmorte":

 Let us sing of our Lord ris'n victorious! Let us sing of our Lord ever glorious:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

The instrumental basses supply a foundation of Bachian granite, thechorus within the church interpolates shouts of "Alleluia!" and thesong swells until the gates of sound fly wide open and we forget thetheatre in a fervor of religious devotion. Only the critic in his studyought here to think of the parallel scene which Leoncavallo sought tocreate in his opera. 

Thus far the little dramatic matter that has been introduced is whollyexpository; yet we are already near the middle of the score. All thestage folk enter the church save Santuzza and Lucia, and to the motherof her betrayer the maiden tells the story of her wrongs. The romancewhich she sings is marked by the copious use of one of thedistinguishing devices of the veritist composers--the melodic triplet, an efficient help for the pushing, pulsating declamation with which thedramatic dialogue of Mascagni, Leoncavallo, and their fellows iscarried on. Lucia can do no more for the unfortunate than commend herto the care of the Virgin. She enters the church and Turiddu comes. Helies as to where he has been. Santuzza is quick with accusation andreproach, but at the first sign of his anger and a hint of thevengeance which Alfio will take she abases herself. Let him beat andinsult her, she will love and pardon though her heart break. She is inthe extremity of agony and anguish when Lola is heard trolling acareless song:--

[figure: musical example setting the word "Fior di giaggiolo . . Gliangeli belli stanno a mille in cielo . . . "]

She is about to begin a second stanza when she enters and sees thepair. She stops with an exclamation. She says she is seeking Alfio. Is Turiddu not going to mass? Santuzza, significantly: "It is Easterand the Lord sees all things! None but the blameless should go tomass. " But Lola will go, and so will Turiddu. Scorning Santuzza'spleadings and at last hurling her to the ground, he rushes into thechurch. She shouts after him a threat of Easter vengeance and fatesends the agent to her in the very moment. Alfio comes and Santuzzatells him that Turiddu has cuckolded him and Lola has robbed her of herlover:--

 Turiddu mi tolse, mi tolse l'onore, E vostra moglie lui rapiva a me!

[figure: musical example setting the above words]

The oncoming waves of the drama's pathos have risen to a supremeheight, their crests have broken, and the wind-blown spume drenches thesoul of the listeners; but the composer has not departed from the firstprinciple of the master of whom, for a time, it was hoped he might bethe legitimate successor. Melody remains the life-blood of his music asit is that of Verdi's from his first work to his last;--as it will beso long as music endures. 

Terrible is the outbreak of Alfio's rage:--

 Infami lero, ad esse non perdono, Vendetta avro pria che tra monti il di. 

[figure: musical example setting the above words]

Upon this storm succeeds the calm of the intermezzo--in its day thebest abused and most hackneyed piece of music that the world knew; yeta triumph of simple, straightforward tune. It echoes the Easter hymn, and in the midst of the tumult of earthly passion proclaims celestialpeace. Its instrumentation was doubtless borrowed from Hellmesberger'sarrangement of the air "Ombra mai fu" from "Serse, " known the worldover as Handel's "Largo"--violins in unison, harp arpeggios, and organharmonies. In nothing artistically distinguished it makes an unexampledappeal to the multitude. Some years ago a burlesque on "Cavalleriarusticana" was staged at a theatre in Vienna. 

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

It was part of the witty conceit of the author to have the intermezzoplayed on a handorgan. Up to this point the audience had been hilariousin its enjoyment of the burlesque, but with the first wheezy tones fromthe grinder the people settled down to silent attention; and when theend came applause for the music rolled out wave after wave. A burlesqueperformance could not rob that music of its charm. Ite missa est. Massis over. The merry music of the first chorus returns. The worshippersare about to start homeward with pious reflections, when Turiddudetains Lola and invites his neighbors to a glass of Mamma Lucia'swine. We could spare the drinking song as easily as Alfio, entering, turns aside the cup which Turiddu proffers him. Turiddu understands. "Iawait your pleasure. " Some of the women apprehend mischief and leadLola away. The challenge is given and accepted, Sicilian fashion. Turiddu confesses his wrong-doing to Alfio, but, instead of proclaiminghis purpose to kill his enemy, he asks protection for Santuzza in caseof his death. Then, while the violins tremble and throb, he calls forhis mother like an errant child:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

He has been too free with the winecup, he says, and must leave her. Butfirst her blessing, as when he went away to be a soldier. Should he notreturn, Santa must be her care: "Voi dovrete fare; da madre a Santa!"It is the cry of a child. "A kiss! Another kiss, mamma! Farewell!"Lucia calls after him. He is gone, Santuzza comes in with her phrase ofmusic descriptive of her unhappy love. It grows to a thunderous crash. Then a hush! A fateful chord! A whispered roll of the drums! A woman isheard to shriek: "They have killed Neighbor Turiddu!" A crowd of womenrush in excitedly; Santuzza and Lucia fall in a swoon. "Hanno ammazzatocompare Turiddu!" The tragedy is ended. 

CHAPTER X

THE CAREER OF MASCAGNI

It would be foolish to question or attempt to deny the merits of thetype of Italian opera established by Mascagni's lucky inspiration. Thebrevity of the realistic little tragedy, the swiftness of its movement, its adherence to the Italian ideal of melody first, its ingeniouscombination of song with an illuminative orchestral part--theseelements in union created a style which the composers of Italy, France, and Germany were quick to adopt. "Pagliacci" was the first fruit of themovement and has been the most enduring; indeed, so far as America andEngland are concerned, "Cavalleria rusticana" and "Pagliacci" are theonly products of the school which have obtained a lasting footing. Theywere followed by a flood of Italian, French, and German works in whichlow life was realistically portrayed, but, though the manner ofcomposition was as easily copied as the subjects were found in theslums, none of the imitators of Mascagni and Leoncavallo achieved evena tithe of their success. The men themselves were too shrewd and wiseto attempt to repeat the experiment which had once been triumphant. 

In one respect the influence of the twin operas was deplorable. I haveattempted to characterize that influence in general terms, but in orderthat the lesson may be more plainly presented it seems to me best topresent a few examples in detail. The eagerness with which writerssought success in moral muck, regardless of all artistic elements, isstrikingly illustrated in an attempt by a German writer, Edmund vonFreihold, [Footnote: I owe this illustration to Ferdinand Pfobl's book"Die Moderne Oper. "] to provide "Cavalleria rusticana" with a sequel. Von Freihold wrote the libretto for a "music drama" which he called"Santuzza, " the story of which begins long enough after the close ofVerga's story for both the women concerned in "Gavalleria rusticana" tohave grown children. Santuzza has given birth to a son named Massimo, and Lola to a daughter, Anita. The youthful pair grow up side by sidein the Sicilian village and fall in love with one another. They mighthave married and in a way expiated the sins of their parents had notAlfio overheard his wife, Lola, confess that Turiddu, not her husband, is the father of Anita, The lovers are thus discovered to be halfbrother and sister. This reminder of his betrayal by Lola infuriatesAlfio anew. He rushes upon his wife to kill her, but Santuzza, whohates him as the slayer of her lover, throws herself between andplunges her dagger in Alfio's heart. Having thus taken revenge forTuriddu's death, Santuzza dies out of hand, Lola, as an inferiorcharacter, falls in a faint, and Massimo makes an end of the delectablestory by going away from there to parts unknown. 

In Cilea's "Tilda" a street singer seeks to avenge her wrongs upon afaithless lover. She bribes a jailor to connive at the escape of arobber whom he is leading to capital punishment. This robber she electsto be the instrument of her vengeance. Right merrily she lives with himand his companions in the greenwood until the band captures therenegade lover on his wedding journey. Tilda rushes upon the bride withdrawn dagger, but melts with compassion when she sees her victim in theattitude of prayer. She sinks to her knees beside her, only to receivethe death-blow from her seducer. There are piquant contrasts in thispicture and Ave Marias and tarantellas in the music. 

Take the story of Giordano's "Mala Vita. " Here the hero is a young dyerwhose dissolute habits have brought on tuberculosis of the lungs. Theprincipal object of his amours is the wife of a friend. A violenthemorrhage warns him of approaching death. Stricken with fear he rushesto the nearest statue of the Madonna and registers a vow; he will marrya wanton, effect her redemption, thereby hoping to save his ownmiserable life. The heroine of the opera appears and she meets hisrequirements. He marries her and for a while she seems blest. But thesiren, the Lola in the case, winds her toils about him as the diseasestretches him on the floor at her feet. Piquancy again, achieved nowwithout that poor palliative, punishment of the evil-doer. 

Tasca's "A Santa Lucia" has an appetizing story about an oysterman'sson who deserts a woman by whom he has a child, in order to marry oneto whom he had previously been affianced. The women meet. There is adainty brawl, and the fiancee of Cicillo (he's the oysterman's son)strikes her rival's child to the ground. The mother tries to stab thefiancee with the operatic Italian woman's ever-ready dagger, and thisact stirs up the embers of Cicillo's love. He takes the mother of hischild back home--to his father's house, that is. The child must be somefour years old by this time, but the oysterman--dear, unsuspecting oldman!--knows nothing about the relation existing between his son and hishousekeeper. He is thinking of marriage with his common lawdaughter-in-law when in comes the old fiancee with a tale for Cicillo'sears of his mistress's unfaithfulness. "It is not true!" shrieks thepoor woman, but the wretch, her seducer, closes his ears to herprotestations; and she throws herself into the sea, where the oysterscome from. Cicillo rushes after her and bears her to the shore, whereshe dies in his arms, gasping in articulo mortis, "It is not true!"

The romantic interest in Mascagni's life is confined to the periodwhich preceded his sudden rise to fame. His father was a baker inLeghorn, and there he was born on December 7, 1863. Of humble origin andoccupation himself, the father, nevertheless, had large ambitions forhis son; but not in the line of art. Pietro was to be shapedintellectually for the law. Like Handel, the boy studied the pianoforteby stealth in the attic. Grown in years, he began attending amusic-school, when, it is said, his father confined him to his house;thence his uncle freed him and took over his care upon himself. Singularly enough, the man who at the height of his success posed asthe most Italian of Italian masters had his inspiration first stirredby German poetry. Early in his career Beethoven resolved to setSchiller's "Hymn to Joy"; the purpose remained in his mind for fortyyears or so, and finally became a realization in the finale of theNinth Symphony. Pietro Mascagni resolved as a boy to compose music forthe same ode; and did it at once. Then he set to work upon a two-actopera, "Il Filanda. " His uncle died, and a Count Florestan (here isanother Beethovenian echo!) sent him to the Conservatory at Milan, where, like nearly all of his native contemporaries, he imbibedknowledge (and musical ideas) from Ponchielli. 

After two years or so of academic study he yielded to a gypsy desireand set out on his wanderings, but not until he had chosen as acompanion Maffei's translation of Heine's "Ratcliff"--a gloomy romancewhich seems to have caught the fancy of many composers. There followedfive years of as checkered a life as ever musician led. Over and overagain he was engaged as conductor of an itinerant or stationaryoperetta and opera company, only to have the enterprise fail and leavehim stranded. For six weeks in Naples his daily ration was a plate ofmacaroni. But he worked at his opera steadily, although, as he onceremarked, his dreams of fame were frequently swallowed up in the growlsof his stomach, which caused him more trouble than many a millionairesuffers from too little appetite or too much gout. Finally, convincedthat he could do better as a teacher of the pianoforte, he ran awayfrom an engagement which paid him two dollars a day, and, sending offthe manuscript of "Ratcliff" in a portmanteau, settled down inCerignola. There he became director of a school for orchestral players, though he had first to learn to play the instruments; he also taughtpianoforte and thoroughbass, and eked out a troublous existence untilhis success in competition for the prize offered by Sonzogno, theMilanese publisher, made him famous in a day and started him on theroad to wealth. 

It was but natural that, after "Cavalleria rusticana" had virulentlyaffected the whole world with what the enemies of Signor Mascagnicalled "Mascagnitis, " his next opera should be looked forward to withfeverish anxiety. There was but a year to wait, for "L'Amico Fritz" wasbrought forward in Rome on the last day of October, 1891. Within tenweeks its title found a place on the programme of one of Mr. WalterDamrosch's Sunday night concerts in New York; but the music was adisappointment. Five numbers were sung by Mme. Tavary and SignorCampanini, and Mr. Damrosch, not having the orchestral parts, playedthe accompaniments upon a pianoforte. As usual, Mr. Gustav Hinrichs wasto the fore with a performance in Philadelphia (on June 8, 1892), theprincipal singers being Mme. Koert-Kronold, Clara Poole, M. Guille, andSignor Del Puente. On January 31, 1893, the Philadelphia singers, aidedby the New York Symphony Society, gave a performance of the opera, under the auspices of the Young Men's Hebrew Association, for thebenefit of its charities, at the Carnegie Music Hall, New York. Mr. Walter Damrosch was to have conducted, but was detained in Washingtonby the funeral of Mr. Blaine, and Mr. Hinrichs took his place. Anotheryear elapsed, and then, on January 10, 1894, the opera reached theMetropolitan Opera House. In spite of the fact that Madame Calve sangthe part of Suzel, only two performances were given to the work. 

The failure of this opera did not dampen the industry of Mascagni northe zeal of his enterprising publishers. For his next opera thecomposer went again to the French authors, Erckmann-Chatrian, who hadsupplied him with the story of "L'Amico Fritz. " This time he chose "Lesdeux Freres, " which they had themselves turned into a drama with thetitle of "Rantzau. " Mascagni's librettist retained the title. The operacame out in Florence in 1892. The tremendous personal popularity of thecomposer, who was now as much a favorite in Vienna and Berlin as he wasin the town of his birth which had struck a medal in his honor, or thetown of his residence which had created him an honorary citizen, couldnot save the work. 

Now he turned to the opera which he had laid aside to take up his"Cavalleria, " and in 1895 "Guglielmo Ratcliff, " based upon the gloomyScotch story told by Heine, was brought forward at La Scala, in Milan. It was in a sense the child of his penury and suffering, but he hadtaken it up inspired by tremendous enthusiasm for the subject, andinasmuch as most of its music had been written before success hadturned his head, or desire for notoriety had begun to itch him, therewas reason to hope to find in it some of the hot blood which surgesthrough the score of "Cavalleria. " As a matter of fact, critics whohave seen the score or heard the work have pointed out that portions of"I Rantzau" and "Cavalleria" are as alike as two peas. It would not bea violent assumption that the composer in his eagerness to get hisscore before the Sonzogno jury had plucked his early work of its bestfeathers and found it difficult to restore plumage of equal brilliancywhen he attempted to make restitution. In the same year, 1895, his nextopera, "Silvano, " made a fiasco in Milan. A year later there appeared"Zanetto, " which seems like an effort to contract the frame of thelyric drama still further than is done in "Cavalleria. " It is abozzetto, a sketch, based on Coppee's duologue "Le Passant, " a scenebetween a strumpet who is weary of the world and a young minstrel. Itsorchestration is unique--there are but strings and a harp. It wasbrought out at Pesaro, where, in 1895, Mascagni had been appointeddirector of the Liceo Musicale Rossini. 

As director of the music-school in Rossini's native town Mascagni'sdays were full of trouble from the outset. He was opposed, said hisfriends, in reformatory efforts by some of the professors and pupils, whose enmity grew so virulent that in 1897 they spread the story thathe had killed himself. He was deposed from his position by theadministration, but reinstated by the Minister of Fine Arts. Thecriticism followed him for years that he had neglected his duties totravel about Europe, giving concerts and conducting his operas for thegreater glory of himself and the profit of his publisher. At the timeof the suicide story it was also said that he was in financial straits;to which his friends replied that he received a salary of 60 lire ($12)a day as director, 1000 lire ($200) a month from Sonzogno, and lived ina princely dwelling. 

After "Zanetto" came "Iris, " to which, as the one opera besides"Cavalleria rusticana" which has remained in the American repertory, Ishall devote the next chapter in this book. "Iris" was followed by "LeMaschere, " which was brought out on January 17, 1901, simultaneously insix cities--Rome, Milan, Venice, Genoa, Turin, and Naples. It made animmediate failure in all of these places except Rome, where it enduredbut a short time. Mascagni's next operatic work was a lyric drama, entitled "Vistilia, " the libretto of which, based upon an historicalnovel by Racco de Zerbi, was written by Menasci and Targioni-Tozzetti, who collaborated on the book of "Cavalleria rusticana. " The action goesback to the time of Tiberius and deals with the loves of Vistilia andHelius. Then came another failure in the shape of "Amica, " which livedout its life in Monte Carlo, where it was produced in March, 1905. 

In the winter of 1902-1903 Signor Mascagni was in the United States forthe purpose of conducting performances of some of his operas and givingconcerts. The company of singers and instrumentalists which hisAmerican agents had assembled for his purpose was, with a fewexceptions, composed of the usual operatic flotsam and jetsam which canbe picked up at any time in New York. The enterprise began in failureand ended in scandal. There had been no adequate preparation for theoperas announced, and one of them was not attempted. 

This was "Ratcliff. " "Cavalleria rusticana, " "Zanetto, " and "Iris" werepoorly performed at the Metropolitan Opera House in October, and anattempt at Sunday night concerts was made. Signor Mascagni's countrymenlabored hard to create enthusiasm for his cause, but the general publicremained indifferent. Having failed miserably in New York, Mascagni, heavily burdened with debt, went to Boston. There he was arrested forbreach of contract. He retaliated with a suit for damages against hisAmerican managers. The usual amount of crimination and recriminationfollowed, but eventually the difficulties were compounded and Mascagniwent back to his home a sadly disillusionized man. [Footnote: The storyof this visit is told in greater detail in my "Chapters of Opera, " asis also the story of the rivalry among American managers to be first inthe field with "Cavalleria rusticana. "]

"Zanetto" was produced along with "Cavalleria rusticana" at theMetropolitan Opera House on October 8, 1902, and "Iris" on October 16. Signor Mascagni conducted and the parts were distributed as followsamong the singers of the company: Iris, Marie Farneti; Osaka, PietroSchiavazzi; Kyoto, Virgilio Bollati; Il Cieco, Francesco Navarrini; UnaGuecha, Dora de Filippe; Un Mercianola, Pasquale Blasio; Un Cencianola, Bernardino Landino. The opera was not heard of again until the seasonof 1907-1908, when, just before the end of the administration ofHeinrich Conried, it was incorporated into the repertory of theMetropolitan Opera House apparently for the purpose of giving Mme. EmmaEames an opportunity to vie with Miss Geraldine Farrar in Japaneseopera. 

CHAPTER XI

"IRIS"

"Light is the language of the eternal ones--hear it!" proclaims thelibrettist of "Iris" in that portion of his book which is neither saidnor sung nor played. And it is the sun that sings with divers voicesafter the curtain has risen on a nocturnal scene, and the orchestra hassought to depict the departure of the night, the break of day, therevivification of the flowers and the sunrise. As Byron sang of him, soPhoebus Apollo celebrates himself as "the god of life and poetry andlight, " but does not stop there. He is also Infinite Beauty, Cause, Reason, Poetry, and Love. The music begins with an all but inaudibledescending passage in the basses, answered by sweet concordantharmonies. A calm song tells of the first streaks of light; woodwindand harp add their voices; a mellifluous hymn chants the stirringflowers, and leads into a rhythmically, more incisive, but stillsustained, orchestral song, which bears upon its surface the choralproclamation of the sun: "I am! I am life! I am Beauty infinite!" Theflux and reflux of the instrumental surge grows in intensity, the musicbegins to glow with color and pulsate with eager life, and reaches amighty sonority, gorged with the crash of a multitude of tamtams, cymbals, drums, and bells, at the climacteric reiteration of "Calore!Luce! Amor!" The piece is thrillingly effective, but as little operaticas the tintinnabulatory chant of the cherubim in the prologue ofBoito's "Mefistofele. "

And now allegory makes room for the drama. To the door of her cottage, embowered on the banks of a quiet stream, comes Iris. The peak ofFujiyama glows in the sunlight. Iris is fair and youthful and innocent. A dream has disturbed her. "Gorgons and Hydras and Chimaeras dire" hadfilled her garden and threatened her doll, which she had put to sleepunder a rose-bush. But the sun's rays burst forth and the monstersflee. She lifts her doll and moves its arms in mimic salutation to thesun. Osaka, a wealthy rake, and Kyoto, a pander, play spy on heractions, gloat on her loveliness and plot to steal her and carry her tothe Yoshiwara. To this end they go to bring on a puppet show, that itsdiversion may enable them to steal her away without discovery. Womencome down to the banks of the river and sing pretty metaphors as theywash their basketloads of muslins. Gradually the music of samisens, gongs, and drums approaches. Osaka and Kyoto have disguised themselvesas travelling players, gathered together some geishas and musicians, and now set up a marionette theatre. Iris comforts her blind father, the only object of her love, besides her doll, and promises to remainat his side. The puppet play tells the story of a maiden who suffersabuse from a cruel father, who threatens to sell her to a merchant. Iris is much affected by the sorrows of the puppet. The voice of Jor, the son of the sun, is heard--it is Osaka, singing without. The melodyis the melody of Turridu's Siciliano, but the words are a promise of ablissful, kissful death and thereafter life everlasting. The puppetdies and with Jor dances off into Nirvana. Now three geishas, representing Beauty, Death, and the Vampire, begin a dance. Kyotodistracts the attention of the spectators while the dancers flaunttheir skirts higher and wider until their folds conceal Iris, andOsaka's hirelings seize her and bear her off toward the city. Kyotoplaces a letter and money at the cottage door for the blind father. Through a pedler and the woman he learns that his daughter is gone tobe an inmate of the Yoshiwara. He implores the people who had beenjeering him to lead him thither, that he may spit in her face and curseher. 

Iris is asleep upon a bed in the "Green House" of the district, whichneeds no description. A song, accompanied by the twanging of a samisenand the clanging of tamtams, is sung by three geishas. Kyoto brings inOsaka to admire her beauty, and sets a high price upon it. Osaka sendsfor jewels. Iris awakes and speculates in philosophical vein touchingthe question of her existence. She cannot be dead, for death bringsknowledge and paradise joy; but she weeps. Osaka appears. He praisesher rapturously--her form, her hair, her eyes, her mouth, her smile. Iris thinks him veritably Jor, but he says his name is "Pleasure. " Themaiden recoils in terror. A priest had taught her in an allegory thatPleasure and Death were one! Osaka loads her with jewels, fondles her, draws her to his breast, kisses her passionately. Iris weeps. She knowsnothing of passion, and longs only for her father, her cottage, and hergarden. Osaka wearies of his guest, but Kyoto plans to play stillfurther upon his lust. He clothes her in richer robes, but moretransparent, places her upon a balcony, and, withdrawing a curtain, exhibits her beauty to the multitude in the street. Amazed cries greetthe revelation. Osaka returns and pleads for her love. 

"Iris!" It is the cry of the blind man hunting the child whom he thinkshas sold herself into disgraceful slavery. The crowd falls back beforehim, while Iris rushes forward to the edge of the veranda and cries outto him, that he may know her presence. He gathers a handful of mud fromthe street and hurls it in the direction of her voice. "There! In yourface! In your forehead! In your mouth! In your eyes! Fango!" Under theimprecations of her father the mind of Iris gives way. She rushes alonga corridor and hurls herself out of a window. 

The third act is reached, and drama merges again into allegory. In thewan light of the moon rag-pickers, men and women, are dragging theirhooks through the slimy muck that flows through the open sewer beneaththe fatal window. They sing mockingly to the moon. A flash of lightfrom Fujiyama awakens a glimmer in the filth. Again. They rush forwardand pull forth the body of Iris and begin to strip it of itsadornments. She moves and they fly in superstitious fear. She recoversconsciousness, and voices from invisible singers, tell her of theselfish inspirations of Osaka, Kyoto, and her blind father; Osaka'sdesire baffled by fate--such is life! Kyoto's slavery to pleasure and ahangman's reward;--such is life! The blind man's dependence on hischild for creature comforts;--such is life! Iris bemoans her fate asdeath comes gently to her. The sky grows rosy and the light bringsmomentary life. She stretches out her arms to the sun and acclaims thegrowing orb. As once upon Ida--

 Glad earth perceives and from her bosom pours Unbidden herbs and voluntary flow'rs!

A field of blossoms spreads around her, into which she sinks, while thesun, again many-voiced and articulate, chants his glory as in thebeginning. 

The story is perhaps prettier in the telling than in the performance. What there is in its symbolism and its poetical suggestion that isingratiating is more effective in the fancy than in the experience. There are fewer clogs, fewer stagnant pools, fewer eddies which whirlto no purpose. In the modern school, with its distemper music put on insplotches, there must be more merit and action. Psychologicaldelineation in music which stimulates action, or makes one forget thewant of outward movement, demands a different order of genius than thatwhich Signor Mascagni possesses. Mere talent for artful device will notsuffice. There are many effective bits of expressive writing in thescore of "Iris, " but most of them are fugitive and aim at coloring aword, a phrase, or at best a temporary situation. There is little flowof natural, fervent melody. What the composer accomplished with tune, characteristic but fluent, eloquent yet sustained, in "Cavalleriarusticana, " he tries to achieve in "Iris" with violent, disjointed, shifting of keys and splashes of instrumental color. In this he isseldom successful, for he is not a master of orchestral writing--thattechnical facility which nearly all the young musicians have in thesame degree that all pianists have finger technic. His orchestralstream is muddy; his effects generally crass and empty of euphony. Hethrows the din of outlandish instruments of percussion, a battery ofgongs, big and little, drums, and cymbals into his score withoutachieving local color. Once only does he utilize it so as to catch theears and stir the fancy of his listeners--in the beginning of thesecond act, where there is a murmur of real Japanese melody. As a rule, however, Signor Mascagni seems to have been careless in the matter oflocal color, properly so, perhaps, for, strictly speaking, local colorin the lyric drama is for comedy with its petty limitations, not fortragedy with its appeal to large and universal passions. Yet it is inthe lighter scenes, the scenes of comedy, like the marionette show, thescenes of mild pathos, like the monologues of Iris, and the scenes ofmere accessory decoration, like that of the laundresses, the mousmes inthe first act, with its purling figure borrowed from "Les Huguenots"and its unnecessarily uncanny col legno effect conveyed from"L'Africaine" that it is most effective. 

CHAPTER XII

"MADAMA BUTTERFLY"

This is the book of the generation of "Madama Butterfly": An adventurein Japan begat Pierre Loti's "Madame Chrysantheme"; "MadameChrysantheme" begat John Luther Long's "Madame Butterfly, " a story;"Madame Butterfly, " the story, begat "Madame Butterfly, " a play byDavid Belasco; "Madame Butterfly, " the play, begat "Madama Butterfly, "the opera by Giacomo Puccini. The heroine of the roving Frenchromanticist is therefore seen in her third incarnation in the heroineof the opera book which L. Illica and G. Giacosa made for Puccini. Butin operatic essence she is still older, for, as Dr. Korngold, aViennese critic, pointed out, Selica is her grandmother and Lakme hercousin. 

Even this does not exhaust her family history; there is something likea bar sinister in her escutcheon. Mr. Belasco's play was not so muchbegotten, conceived, or born of admiration for Mr. Long's book as itwas of despair wrought by the failure of another play written by Mr. Belasco. This play was a farce entitled "Naughty Anthony, " created byMr. Belasco in a moment of aesthetic aberration for production at theHerald Square Theatre, in New York, in the spring of 1900. Mr. Belascodoesn't think so now, but at the time he had a notion that the publicwould find something humorous and attractive in the spectacle of apopular actress's leg swathed in several layers of stocking. So he madea show of Blanche Bates. The public refused to be amused at thefarcical study in comparative anatomy, and when Mr. Belasco's friendsbegan to fault him for having pandered to a low taste, and he felt thesmart of failure in addition, he grew heartily ashamed of himself. Hisaffairs, moreover, began to take on a desperate aspect; the seasonthreatened to be a ruinous failure, and he had no play ready tosubstitute for "Naughty Anthony. " Some time before a friend had senthim Mr. Long's book, but he had carelessly tossed it aside. In hisstraits it came under his eyes again, and this time he saw a play init--a play and a promise of financial salvation. It was late at nightwhen he read the story, but he had come to a resolve by morning and inhis mind's eye had already seen his actors in Japanese dress. The dramalay in the book snugly enough; it was only necessary to dig it out andmaterialize it to the vision. That occupation is one in which Mr. Belasco is at home. The dialogue went to his actors a few pages at atime, and the pictures rose rapidly in his mind. Something differentfrom a stockinged leg now!

Glimpses of Nippon--its mountains, waters, bridges, flowers, gardens, geishas; as a foil to their grace and color the prosaic figures of anaval officer and an American Consul. All things tinged with the brightlight of day, the glories of sunset or the super-glories of sunrise. Wemust saturate the fancy of the audience with the atmosphere of Japan, mused Mr. Belasco. Therefore, Japanese scenes, my painter! Electrician, your plot shall be worked out as carefully as the dialogue and actionof the play's people. "First drop discovered; house-lights down; whitefoots with blue full work change of color at back of drop; white lenson top of mountain; open light with white, straw, amber, and red onlower part of drop; when full on lower footlights to blue, " and so on. Mr. Belasco's emotions, we know, find eloquent expression in stagelights. But the ear must be carried off to the land of enchantment aswell as the eye. "Come, William Furst, recall your experiences on theWestern coast. For my first curtain I want a quaint, soft Japanesemelody, pp--you know how!"

And so "Madame Butterfly, " the play, was made. In two weeks all wasready, and a day after the first performance at the Herald SquareTheatre, on March 5, 1900, the city began to hum with eager comment onthe dramatic intensity of the scene of a Japanese woman's vigil, of theenthralling eloquence of a motionless, voiceless figure, lookingsteadily through a hole torn through a paper partition, with a sleepingchild and a nodding maid at her feet, while a mimic night wore on, thelanterns on the floor flickered out one by one and the soft violinscrooned a melody to the arpeggios of a harp. 

The season at the Herald Square Theatre was saved. Some time later, when Mr. Belasco accompanied Mr. Charles Frohman to London to put on"Zaza" at the Garrick Theatre, he took "Madame Butterfly" with him andstaged it at the Duke of York's Theatre, hard by. On the first night of"Madame Butterfly" Mr. Frohman was at the latter playhouse, Mr. Belascoat the former. The fall of the curtain on the little Japanese play wasfollowed by a scene of enthusiasm which endured so long that Mr. Frohman had time to summon his colleague to take a curtain call. At astroke the pathetic play had made its fortune in London, and, as itturned out, paved the way for a new and larger triumph for Mr. Long'sstory. The musical critics of the London newspapers came to the houseand saw operatic possibilities in the drama. So did Mr. FrancisNielson, at the time Covent Garden's stage manager, who sent word ofthe discovery to Signor Puccini. The composer came from Milan, andrealized on the spot that the successor of "Tosca" had been found. Signori Illica and Giacosa, librettists in ordinary to Ricordi & Co. , took the work of making the opera book in hand. Signor Illica's fancyhad roamed in the Land of Flowers before; he had written the librettofor Mascagni's "Iris. " The ephemeral life of Cho-Cho-San was over in afew months, but by that time "Madama Butterfly, " glorified by music, had lifted her wings for a new flight in Milan. 

It is an old story that many operas which are recognized asmasterpieces later, fail to find appreciation or approval when they arefirst produced. "Madama Butterfly" made a fiasco when brought forwardat La Scala on February 17, 1904. 

[Footnote: At this premiere Campanini was the conductor and the castwas as follows: Butterfly, Storchio; Suzuki, Giaconia; Pinkerton, Zenatello; Sharpless, De Luca; Goro, Pini-Corsi; Bonzo, Venturini;Yakuside, Wulmann. At the first performance in London, on July 10, 1905, at Covent Garden, the cast was: Butterfly, Destinn; Suzuki, Lejeune; Pinkerton, Caruso; Sharpless, Scotti; Goro, Dufriche; Bonzo, Cotreuil; Yakuside, Rossi. Conductor, Campanini. After the revision itwas produced at Brescia on May 28, 1904, with Zenatello, of theoriginal cast, Krusceniski as Butterfly, and Bellati as Sharpless. Thefirst American performances were in the English version, made by Mrs. B. H. Elkin, by the Savage Opera Company, which came to the GardenTheatre, New York, after a trial season in Washington, on November 12, 1906. It had a run of nearly three months before it reached theMetropolitan Opera House, on February 11, 1907. Mr. Walter Rothwellconducted the English performance, in which there were several changesof casts, the original Butterfly being Elza Szamozy (a Hungariansinger); Suzuki, Harriet Behne; Pinkerton, Joseph F. Sheehan, andSharpless, Winifred Goff. Arturo Vigna conducted the first Italianperformance at the Metropolitan, with Geraldine Farrar as Butterfly, Louise Homer as Suzuki, Caruso as Pinkerton, Scotti as Sharpless, andAlbert Reiss as Goro. ]

So complete was the fiasco that in his anxiety to withdraw the workSigner Puccini is said to have offered to reimburse the management ofthe theatre for the expenditures entailed by the production. Failuresof this kind are frequently inexplicable, but it is possible that theunconventional character of the story and the insensibility of theItalians to national musical color other than their own, had a greatdeal to do with it in this case. Whatever the cause, the popularattitude toward the opera was displayed in the manner peculiar toItaly, the discontented majority whistling, shrilling on house keys, grunting, roaring, bellowing, and laughing in the good old-fashionedmanner which might be set down as possessed of some virtuous merit ifreserved for obviously stupid creations. 

"The Pall Mall Gazette" reported that at the time the composer told afriend that on this fateful first night he was shut up in a small roombehind the scenes, where he could hear nothing of what was going on onthe stage or in the audience-room. On a similar occasion, nearly acentury before, when "The Barber of Seville" scored an equallymonumental failure, Rossini, in the conductor's chair, faced the mob, shrugged his shoulders, and clapped his hands to show his contempt forhis judges, then went home and composedly to bed. Puccini, though hecould not see the discomfiture of his opera, was not permitted toremain in ignorance of it. His son and his friends brought him thenews. His collaborator, Giacosa, rushed into the room with dishevelledhair and staring eyes, crying: "I have suffered the passion of death!"while Signorina Storchio burst into such a flood of tears and sobs thatit was feared she would be ill. Puccini was cut to the heart, but hedid not lose faith in the work. He had composed it in love and knew itspotentialities, His faith found justification when he produced it inBrescia three months later and saw it start out at once on a triumphaltour of the European theatres. His work of revision was not a large orcomprehensive one. He divided the second act into two acts, made somecondensations to relieve the long strain, wrote a few measures ofintroduction for the final scene, but refused otherwise to change themusic. His fine sense of the dramatic had told him correctly when heplanned the work that there ought not to be a physical interruption ofthe pathetic vigil out of which Blanche Bates in New York and EvelynMillard in London had made so powerful a scene, but he yielded to thecompulsion of practical considerations, trying to save respect for hisbetter judgment by refusing to call the final scene an act, though hepermitted the fall of the curtain; but nothing can make good the lossentailed by the interruption. The mood of the play is admirablypreserved in the music of the intermezzo, but the mood of the listenersis hopelessly dissipated with the fall of the curtain. When the sceneof the vigil is again disclosed, the charm and the pathos havevanished, never to return. It is true that a rigid application of thelaw of unities would seem to forbid that a vigil of an entire nightfrom eve till morning be compressed into a few minutes; but poeticlicense also has rights, and they could have been pleaded withconvincing eloquence by music, with its marvellous capacity forpublishing the conflicting emotions of the waiting wife. 

His ship having been ordered to the Asiatic station, Benjamin FranklinPinkerton, Lieutenant in the United States Navy, follows a custom (notat all unusual among naval officers, if Pierre Loti is to be believed)and for the summer sojourn in Japan leases a Japanese wife. (The word"wife" is a euphemism for housekeeper, companion, play-fellow, mistress, what not. ) This is done in a manner involving littleceremony, as is known to travellers and others familiar with the socialcustoms of Nippon, through a nakodo, a marriage broker or matrimonialagent. M. Loti called his man Kangourou; Mr. Long gave his the name ofGoro. That, however, and the character of the simple proceeding beforea registrar is immaterial. M. Loti, who assures us that his book ismerely some pages from a veritable diary, entertains us with somedetails preliminary to his launch into a singular kind of domesticexistence, which are interesting as bearing on the morals of the operaand as indicative of the fact that he is a closer observer of Orientallife than his American confrere. He lets us see how merchantable"wives" are chosen, permits M. Kangourou to exhibit his wares andexpatiate on their merits. There is the daughter of a wealthy Chinamerchant, a young woman of great accomplishments who can write"commercially" and has won a prize in a poetic contest with a sonnet. She is, consequently, very dear--100 yen, say $100--but that is of noconsequence; what matters is that she has a disfiguring scar on hercheek. She will not do. Then there is Mlle. Jasmin, a pretty girl offifteen years, who can be had for $18 or $20 a month (contractcancellable at the end of any month for non-payment), a few dresses offashionable cut and a pleasant house to live in. Mlle. Jasmin comes tobe inspected with one old lady, two old ladies, three old ladies (mammaand aunts), and a dozen friends and neighbors, big and little. Loti'smoral stomach revolts at the thought of buying for his uses a child wholooks like a doll, and is shocked at the public parade which has beenmade of her as a commodity. He has not yet been initiated into some ofthe extraordinary customs of Japan, nor yet into some of thedistinctions attendant upon those customs. He learns of one of thelatter when he suggests to the broker that he might marry a charminggeisha who had taken his fancy at a tea house. The manner in which thesuggestion was received convinced him that he might as well havepurposed to marry the devil himself as a professional dancer andsinger. Among the train of Mlle. Jasmin's friends is one less youngthan Mlle. Jasmin, say about eighteen, and already more of a woman; andwhen Loti says, "Why not her?" M. Kangourou trots her out forinspection and, discreetly sending Loti away, concludes the arrangementbetween night-fall and 10 o'clock, when he comes with the announcement:"All is arranged, sir; her parents will give her up for $20 amonth--the same price as Mlle. Jasmin. "

So Mlle. Chrysantheme became the wife of Pierre Loti during his stay atNagasaki, and then dutifully went home to her mother without breakingher heart at all. But she was not a geisha, only a mousme--"one of theprettiest words in the Nipponese language, " comments M. Loti, "it seemsalmost as if there must be a little moue in the very sound, as if apretty, taking little pout, such as they put on, and also a little pertphysiognomy, were described by it. "

Lieutenant Pinkerton, equally ignorant with Lieutenant Loti butuninstructed evidently, marries a geisha whose father had made thehappy dispatch at the request of the Son of Heaven after making ablunder in his military command. She is Cio-Cio-San, also MadamaButterfly, and she comes to her wedding with a bevy of geishas ormousmes (I do not know which) and a retinue of relations. All enjoy thehospitality of the American officer while picking him to pieces, butturn from their kinswoman when they learn from an uncle, who is aBuddhist priest and comes late to the wedding like the wicked fairy inthe stories, that she has attended the Mission school and changed herreligion. Wherefore the bonze curses her: "Hou, hou! Cio-Cio-San, hou, hou!"

Sharpless, United States Consul at Nagasaki, had not approved ofPinkerton's adventure, fearing that it might bring unhappiness to thelittle woman; but Pinkerton had laughed at his scruples and emptied hisglass to the marriage with an American wife which he hoped to make someday. Neither Loti nor Long troubles us with the details of so prosaic athing as the marriage ceremony; but Puccini and his librettists makemuch of it, for it provides the only opportunity for a chorus and themusician had found delightfully mellifluous Japanese gongs to add apretty touch of local color to the music. Cio-Cio-San has been"outcasted" and Pinkerton comforts her and they make love in thestarlight (after Butterfly has changed her habiliments) like any pairof lovers in Italy. "Dolce notte! Quante stelle! Vieni, vieni!" forquantity. 

This is the first act of the opera, and it is all expository toBelasco's "Tragedy of Japan, " which plays in one act, with the patheticvigil separating the two days which form its period of action. Whenthat, like the second act of the opera, opens, Pinkerton has been gonefrom Nagasaki and his "wife" three years, and a baby boy of whom he hasnever heard, but who has his eyes and hair has come to bear Butterflycompany in the little house on the hill. The money left by the malebutterfly when he flitted is all but exhausted. Madama Butterflyappears to be lamentably ignorant of the customs of her country, forshe believes herself to be a wife in the American sense and isfearfully wroth with Suzuki, her maid, when she hints that she neverknew a foreign husband to come back to a Japanese wife. But Pinkertonwhen he sailed away had said that he would be back "when the robinsnest again, " and that suffices Cio-Cio-San. But when Sharpless comeswith a letter to break the news that his friend is coming back with anAmerican wife, he loses courage to perform his mission at thecontemplation of the little woman's faith in the truant. Does he knowwhen the robins nest in America? In Japan they had nested three timessince Pinkerton went away. The consul quails at that and damns hisfriend as a scoundrel. Now Goro, who knows Butterfly's pecuniaryplight, brings Yamadori to her. Yamadori is a wealthy Japanese citizenof New York in the book and play and a prince in the opera, but in allhe is smitten with Butterfly's beauty and wants to add her name to thelist of wives he has conveniently married and as conveniently divorcedon his visits to his native land. Butterfly insists that she is anAmerican and cannot be divorced Japanese fashion, and is amazed whenSharpless hints that Pinkerton might have forgotten her and she wouldbetter accept Yamadori's hand. 

First she orders him out of the house, but, repenting her of herrudeness, brings in the child to show him something that no one islikely to forget. She asks the consul to write to his friend and tellhim that he has a son, so fine a son, indeed, that she indulges in aday dream of the Mikado stopping at the head of his troops to admirehim and make him a prince of the realm. Sharpless goes away with hismission unfulfilled and Suzuki comes in dragging Goro with her, forthat he had been spreading scandalous tales about the treatment whichchildren born like this child receive in America. Butterfly is temptedto kill the wretch, but at the last is content to spurn him with herfoot. 

At this moment a cannon shot is heard. A man-of-war is entering theharbor. Quick, the glasses! "Steady my hand, Suzuki, that I may readthe name. " It is the Abraham Lincoln, Pinkerton's ship! Now the cherrytree must give up its every blossom, every bush or vine its violets andjessamines to garnish the room for his welcome! The garden is strippedbare, vases are filled, the floor is strewn with petals. Perfumesexhale from the voices of the women and the song of the orchestra. Herelocal color loses its right; the music is all Occidental. Butterfly isdressed again in her wedding gown of white and her pale cheeks aretouched up with carmine. The paper partitions are drawn against thenight. Butterfly punctures the shoji with three holes--one high up forherself to look through, standing; one lower for the maid to lookthrough, sitting; one near the floor for the baby. And so Butterflystands in an all-night vigil. The lanterns flicker and go out. Maid andbabe sink down in sleep. The gray dawn creeps over the waters of theharbor. Human voices, transformed into instruments, hum a barcarolle. (We heard it when Sharpless tried to read the letter. ) A Japanese tunerises like a sailors' chanty from the band. Mariners chant their "Yoho!" Day is come. Suzuki awakes and begs her mistress to seek rest. Butterfly puts the baby to bed, singing a lullaby. Sharpless andPinkerton come and learn of the vigil from Suzuki, who sees the form ofa lady in the garden and hears that it is the American wife ofPinkerton. Pinkerton pours out his remorse melodiously. He will behaunted forever by the picture of his once happy home and Cio-Cio-San'sreproachful eyes. He leaves money for Butterfly in the consul's handsand runs away like a coward. Kate, the American wife, and Suzuki meetin the garden. The maid is asked to tell her mistress the meaning ofthe visit, but before she can do so Butterfly sees them. Her questionsbring out half the truth; her intuition tells her the rest. Kate (anawful blot she is on the dramatic picture) begs forgiveness and asksfor the baby boy that her husband may rear him. Butterfly says he shallhave him in half an hour if he will come to fetch him. She goes to theshrine of Buddha and takes from it a veil and a dagger, reading thewords engraved on its blade: "To die with honor when one can no longerlive with honor. " It is the weapon which the Mikado had sent to herfather. She points the weapon at her throat, but at the moment Suzukipushes the baby into the room. Butterfly addresses it passionately;then, telling it to play, seats it upon a stool, puts an American flaginto its hands, a bandage around its eyes. Again she takes dagger andveil and goes behind a screen. The dagger is heard to fall. Butterflytotters out from behind the screen with a veil wound round her neck. She staggers to the child and falls, dying, at its feet. Pinkertonrushes in with a cry of horror and falls on his knees, while Sharplessgently takes up the child. 

I have no desire to comment disparagingly upon the denouement of thebook of Mr. Long or the play of Mr. Belasco which Puccini and hislibrettists followed; but in view of the origin of the play a bit ofcomparative criticism seems to be imperative. Loti's "MadameChrysantheme" was turned into an opera by Andre Messager. What theopera was like I do not know. It came, it went, and left no sign; yetit would seem to be easy to guess at the reason for its quickevanishment. If it followed the French story, as no doubt it did, itwas too faithful to the actualities of Japanese life to awaken a throbof emotion in the Occidental heart. Without such a throb a drama isnaught--a sounding brass and tinkling cymbal. The charm of Loti's booklies in its marvellously beautiful portrayal of a country, a people, and a characteristic incident in the social life of that people. Itsinterest as a story, outside of the charm of its telling, is like thatexcited by inspection of an exotic curio. In his dedication of the bookthe author begged Mme. La Duchesse de Richelieu not to look for anymeaning in it, but to receive it in the same spirit in which she wouldreceive "some quaint bit of pottery, some grotesque carved ivory idol, or some preposterous trifle brought back from the fatherland of allpreposterousness. " It is a record of a bit of the wandering life of apoet who makes himself a part of every scene into which fortune throwshim. He has spent a summer with a Japanese mousme, whom he had marriedJapanese fashion, and when he has divorced her, also in Japanesefashion, with regard for all the conventions, and sailed away from herforever, he is more troubled by thoughts of possible contamination tohis own nature than because of any consequences to the woman. Beforethe final farewell he had felt a touch of pity for the "poor littlegypsy, " but when he mounted the stairs to her room for the last time heheard her singing, and mingled with her voice was a strange metallicsound, dzinn, dzinn! as of coins ringing on the floor. Is she amusingherself with quoits, or the jeu du crapaud, or pitch and toss? Hecreeps in, and there, dressed for the departure to her mother's, sitting on the floor is Chrysantheme; and spread out around her all thefine silver dollars he had given her according to agreement the nightbefore. "With the competent dexterity of an old money changer shefingers them, turns them over, throws them on the floor, and armed witha little mallet ad hoc, rings them vigorously against her ear, singingthe while I know not what little pensive, birdlike song, which I daresay she improvises as she goes along. Well, after all, it is even morecompletely Japanese than I could possibly have imagined it--this lastscene of my married life! I feel inclined to laugh. " And he commendsthe little gypsy's worldly wisdom, offers to make good any counterfeitpiece which she may find, and refuses to permit her to see him goaboard of his ship. She does, nevertheless, along with the Japanesewives of four of his fellow officers, who peep at their flittinghusbands through the curtains of their sampans. But when he is far outon the great Yellow Sea he throws the faded lotus flowers which she hadgiven him through the porthole of his cabin, making his best excusesfor "giving to them, natives of Japan, a grave so solemn and so vast";and he utters a prayer: "O Ama-Terace-Omi-Kami, wash me clean from thislittle marriage of mine in the waters of the river of Kamo!"

The story has no soul, and to give his story, which borrowed its motivefrom Loti's, a soul, Mr. Long had to do violence to the verities ofJapanese life. Yet might not even a geisha feel a genuine passion?

The use of folk-tunes in opera is older than "Madama Butterfly, " butPuccini's score stands alone in the extent of the use and theconsistency with which Japanese melody has been made the foundation ofthe music. When Signor Illica, one of the librettists, followed SarPeladan and d'Annunzio into Nippon seeking flowers for "Iris, " he tookMascagni with him--metaphorically, of course. But Mascagni was a timidgleaner. Puccini plucked with a bolder hand, as indeed he might, for heis an incomparably greater adept in the art of making musical nosegays. In fact, I know of only one score that is comparable with that of"Madama Butterfly" in respect of its use of national musical color, andthat is "Boris Godounoff. " Moussorgsky, however, had more, richer, anda greater variety of material to work with than Puccini. Japanese musicis arid and angular, and yet so great is Puccini's skill in combiningcreative imagination and reflection that he knew how to make it blossomlike a rose. Pity that he could not wholly overcome its rhythmicalmonotony. Japanese melody runs almost uninterruptedly through hisinstrumental score, giving way at intervals to the Italian style oflyricism when the characters and passions become universal rather thanlocal types. Structurally, his score rests on the Wagnerian method, inthat the vocal part floats on an uninterrupted instrumental current. Inthe orchestral part the tunes which he borrowed from the popular musicof Japan are continuously recurrent, and fragments of them are used asthe connecting links of the whole fabric. He uses also a few typicalthemes (Leitmotive) of his own invention, and to them it might bepossible, by ingenious study of their relation to text and situation, to attach significances in the manner of the Wagnerian handbooks; but Ido not think that such processes occupied the composer's mind to anyconsiderable extent, and the themes are not appreciably characteristic. His most persistent use of a connecting link, arbitrarily chosen, isfound in the case of the first motive of the theme, which he treatsfugally in the introduction, and which appears thereafter to the end ofthe chapter (a, in the list of themes printed herewith). What might becalled personal themes are the opening notes of "The Star-SpangledBanner" for Pinkerton and the melody (d) which comes in with Yamadori, in which the Japanese tune used by Sir Arthur Sullivan in "The Mikado"is echoed. The former fares badly throughout the score (for which noblame need attach to Signor Puccini), but the latter is used withcapital effect, though not always in connection with the character. 

If Signor Puccini had needed the suggestion that Japanese music wasnecessary for a Japanese play (which of course he did not), he mighthave received it when he saw Mr. Belasco's play in London. For theincidental music in that play Mr. William Furst provided Japanesetunes, or tunes made over the very convenient Japanese last. ThroughMr. Belasco's courtesy I am able to present here a relic of thisoriginal "Butterfly" music. The first melody (a) was the theme of thecurtain-music; (b) that accompanying Cho-Cho-San, when discovered atthe beginning spraying flowers, presenting an offering at the shrineand burning incense in the house at the foot of Higashi hill; (c) theYamadori music; (d) the music accompanying the first production of thesword; (e) the music of the vigil. There were also two Occidentalpieces--the melody of a little song which Pinkerton had taughtCho-Cho-San, "I Call Her the Belle of Japan, " and "Rock-a-bye, Baby. "

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Themes from Puccini's "Butterfly" music By permission of Ricordi & Co. 

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

Meiodies from Mr. Furst's "Butterfly" music By permission of Mr. DavidBelasco. 

CHAPTER XIII

"DER ROSENKAVALIER"

In the beginning there was "Guntram, " of which we in America heard onlyfragmentary echoes in our concert-rooms. Then came "Feuersnot, " whichreached us in the same way, but between which and the subject which isto occupy me in this chapter there is a kinship through a singleinstrumental number, the meaning of which no commentator has dared morethan hint at. It is the music which accompanies the episode, politelytermed a "love scene, " which occurs at the climax of the earlier opera, but is supposed to take place before the opening of the curtain in thelater. Perhaps I shall recur to them again--if I have the courage. 

These were the operas of Richard Strauss which no manager deemed itnecessary or advisable to produce in New York. Now came "Salome. "Popular neurasthenia was growing. Oscar Wilde thought France mightaccept a glorification of necrophilism and wrote his delectable book inFrench. France would have none of it, but when it was done into German, and Richard Strauss accentuated its sexual perversity by his hystericalmusic, lo! Berlin accepted it with avidity. The theatres of thePrussian capital were keeping pace with the pathological spirit of theday, and were far ahead of those of Paris, where, it had long been thehabit to think, moral obliquity made its residence. If Berlin, then whynot New York? So thought Mr. Conned, saturated with Germantheatricalism, and seeing no likely difference in the appeal of a"Parsifal" which he had successfully produced, and a "Salome, " heprepared to put the works of Wagner and Strauss on the same footing atthe Metropolitan Opera House. An influence which has not yet beenclearly defined, but which did not spring from the director of theopera nor the gentlemen who were his financial backers, silenced themaunderings of the lust-crazed Herod and paralyzed the contortions ofthe lascivious dancer to whom he was willing to give one-half hiskingdom. [Footnote: For the story of "Salome" in New York, see my"Chapters of Opera" (Henry Holt & Co. , New York), p. 343 et seq. ]

Now Mr. Hammerstein came to continue the artistic education which theowners of the Metropolitan Opera House had so strangely andunaccountably checked. Salome lived out her mad life in a short time, dying, not by the command of Herod, but crushed under the shield ofpopular opinion. The operation, though effective, was not as swift asit might have been had operatic conditions been different than they arein New York, and before it was accomplished a newer phase of Strauss'spathological art had offered itself as a nervous, excitation. It was"Elektra, " and under the guise of an ancient religious ideal, awful butpathetic, the people were asked to find artistic delight in thecontemplation of a woman's maniacal thirst for a mother's blood. It isnot necessary to recall the history of the opera at the Manhattan OperaHouse to show that the artistic sanity of New York was proof againstthe new poison. 

Hugo von Hoffmannsthal had aided Strauss in this brew and collaboratedwith him in the next, which, it was hoped, probably because of thedifference in its concoction and ingredients, would make his rein evenmore taut than it had ever been on theatrical managers and theirpublic. From the Greek classics he turned to the comedy of theBeaumarchais period. Putting their heads together, the two wrote "DerRosenkavalier. " It was perhaps shrewd on their part that they avoidedall allusion to the opera buffa of the period and called their work a"comedy for music. " It enabled them, in the presence of the ignorant, to assume a virtue which they did not possess; but it is questionableif that circumstance will help them any. It is only the curious criticnowadays who takes the trouble to look at the definition, or epithet, on a title page. It is the work which puts the hallmark on itself; notthe whim of the composer. It would have been wise, very wise indeed, had Hoffmannsthal avoided everything which might call up a comparisonbetween himself and Beaumarchais. It was simply fatal to Strauss thathe tried to avoid all comparison between his treatment of an eighteenthcentury comedy and Mozart's. One of his devices was to make use of thesystem of musical symbols which are irrevocably associated withWagner's method of composition. Mozart knew nothing of this system, buthe had a better one in his Beaumarchaisian comedy, which "DerRosenkavalier" recalls; it was that of thematic expression for each newturn in the dramatic situation--a system which is carried out sobrilliantly in "Le Nozze di Figaro" that there is nothing, even in "DieMeistersinger, " which can hold a candle to it. Another was to build upthe vocal part of his comedy on orchestral waltzes. Evidently it washis notion that at the time of Maria Theresa (in whose early reign theopera is supposed to take place) the Viennese world was given over tothe dance. It was so given over a generation later, so completely, indeed, that at the meetings in the ridotto, for which Mozart, Haydn, Gyrowetz, Beethoven, and others wrote music, retiring rooms had to beprovided for ladies who were as unprepared for possible accidents aswas one of those described by Pepys as figuring in a court ball in histime; but to put scarcely anything but waltz tunes under the dialogueof "Der Rosenkavalier" is an anachronism which is just as disturbing tothe judicious as the fact that Herr Strauss, though he starts hishalf-dozen or more of waltzes most insinuatingly, never lets them runthe natural course which Lanner and the Viennese Strauss, who suggestedtheir tunes, would have made them do. Always, the path which sets outso prettily becomes a byway beset with dissonant thorns and thistlesand clogged with rocks. 

All of this is by way of saying that "Der Rosenkavalier" reached NewYork on December 9, 1913, after having endured two years or so inEurope, under the management of Mr. Gatti-Casazza, and was treated withthe distinction which Mr. Conried gave "Parsifal" and had planned for"Salome. " It was set apart for a performance outside the subscription, special prices were demanded, and the novelty dressed as sumptuouslyand prepared with as lavish an expenditure of money and care as if itwere a work of the very highest importance. Is it that? The question isnot answered by the fact that its music was composed by RichardStrauss, even though one be willing to admit that Strauss is thegreatest living master of technique in musical composition, the oneconcerning whose doings the greatest curiosity is felt and certainlythe one whose doings are the best advertised. "Der Rosenkavalier, " inspite of all these things, must stand on its merits--as a comedy withmusic. The author of its book has invited a comparison which hasalready been suggested by making it a comedy of intrigue merely andplacing its time of action in Vienna and the middle of the eighteenthcentury. He has gone further; he has invoked the spirit of Beaumarchaisto animate his people and his incidents. The one thing which he couldnot do, or did not do, was to supply the satirical scourge whichjustified the Figaro comedies of his great French prototype and which, while it made their acceptance tardy, because of royal and courtlyopposition, made their popular triumph the more emphatic. "Le Nozze diFigaro" gave us more than one figure and more than one scene in therepresentation, and "Le Nozze di Figaro" is to those who understand itstext one of the most questionable operas on the current list. But thereis a moral purpose underlying the comedy which to some extent justifiesits frank salaciousness. It is to prevent the Count from exercising anancient seigniorial right over the heroine which he had voluntarilyresigned, that all the characters in the play unite in the intriguewhich makes up the comedy. Moreover, there are glimpses over and overagain of honest and virtuous love between the characters and beautifulexpressions of it in the music which makes the play delightful, despiteits salaciousness. Even Cherubino who seems to have come to life againin Octavian, is a lovable youth if for no othe reason than that herepresents youth in its amorousness toward all womankind, with thoughtof special mischief toward none. 

"Der Rosenkavalier" is a comedy of lubricity merely, with what littlesatirical scourge it has applied only to an old roue who is no moredeserving of it than most of the other people in the play. So much ofits story as will bear telling can be told very briefly. It begins, assuming its instrumental introduction (played with the scenediscreetly hidden) to be a part of it, with a young nobleman locked inthe embraces of the middle-aged wife of a field marshal, who isconveniently absent on a hunting expedition. The music is of apassionate order, and the composer, seeking a little the odor ofvirtue, but with an oracular wink in his eye, says in a descriptivenote that it is to be played in the spirit of parody (parodistisch). Unfortunately the audience cannot see the printed direction, and thereis no parody in music except extravagance and ineptitude in theutterance of simple things (like the faulty notes of the horns inMozart's joke on the village musicians, the cadenza for violin solo inthe same musical joke, or the twangling of Beckmesser's lute); so theintroduction is an honest musical description of things which thecomposer is not willing to confess, and least of all the stage manager, for when the curtain opens there is not presented even the picturecalled for by the German libretto. Nevertheless, morn is dawning, birdsare twittering, and the young lover, kneeling before his mistress on adivan, is bemoaning the fact that day is come and that he cannotpublish his happiness to the world. The tete-a-tete is interrupted by arude boor of a nobleman, who come to consult his cousin (the princess)about a messenger to send with the conventional offering of a silverrose to the daughter of a vulgar plebeian just elevated to the nobilitybecause of his wealth. The conversation between the two touches onlittle more than old amours, and after the lady has held her leveedesigned to introduce a variety of comedy effects in music as well asaction, the princess recommends her lover for the office of rosebearer. Meanwhile the lover has donned the garments of a waiting maid and beenoverwhelmed with the wicked attentions of the roue, Lerchenau. When thelovers are again alone there is a confession of renunciation on thepart of the princess, based on the philosophical reflection that, afterall, her Octavian being so young would bring about the inevitableparting sooner or later. 

In the second act what the princess in her prescient abnegation hadforeseen takes place. Her lover carries the rose to the young womanwhom the roue had picked out for his bride and promptly falls in lovewith her. She with equal promptness, following the example of Wagner'sheroines, bowls herself at his head. The noble vulgarian complicatesmatters by insisting that he receive a dowry instead of paying one. Theyoung hot-blood adds to the difficulties by pinking him in the arm withhis sword, but restores order at the last by sending him a letter ofassignation in his first act guise of a maid servant of the princess. 

This assignation is the background of the third act, which is farce ofthe wildest and most vulgar order. Much of it is too silly fordescription. Always, however, there is allusion to the purpose of themeeting on the part of Lerchenau, whose plans are spoiled byapparitions in all parts of the room, the entrance of the police, hispresumptive bride and her father, a woman who claims him as herhusband, four children who raise bedlam (and memories of thecontentious Jews in "Salome"); by shouting "Papa! papa!" until his mindis in a whirl and he rushes out in despair. The princess leaves thenew-found lovers alone. 

They hymn their happiness in Mozartian strains (the melody copied fromthe second part of the music with which Papageno sets the blackamoorsto dancing in "Die Zauberflote"), the orchestra talks of the matronlyrenunciation of the princess, enthusiastic Straussians of a musicalparallel with the quintet from Wagner's "Meistersinger, " and the operacomes to an end after three and one-half hours of more or lessunintelligible dialogue poised on waltz melodies. 

I have said unintelligible dialogue. For this unintelligibility thereare two reasons-the chief one musical, the other literary. ThoughStrauss treats his voices with more consideration in "DerRosenkavalier" than in his tragedies, he still so overburdens them thatthe words are distinguishable only at intervals. Only too frequently hecrushes them with orchestral voices, which in themselves are notoverwhelming--the voices of his horns, for instance, for which he showsa particular partiality. His style of declamation is melodic, though itis only at the end of the opera that he rises to real vocal melody; butit seems to be put over an orchestral part, and not the orchestral partput under it. There is no moment in which he can say, as Wagnertruthfully and admiringly said of the wonderful orchestral music of thethird act of "Tristan und Isolde, " that all this swelling instrumentalsong existed only for the sake of what the dying Tristan was sayingupon his couch. All of Strauss's waltzes seem to exist for their ownsake, which makes the disappointment greater that they are not carriedthrough in the spirit in which they are begun; that is, the spirit ofthe naive Viennese dance tune. 

A second reason for the too frequent unintelligibility of the text isits archaic character. Its idioms are eighteenth century as well asViennese, and its persistent use of the third person even amongindividuals of quality, though it gives a tang to the libretto whenread in the study, is not welcome when heard with difficulty. Besidesthis, there is use of dialect--vulgar when assumed by Octavian, mixedwhen called for by such characters as Valzacchi and his partner inscandal mongery, Annina. To be compelled to forego a knowledge of halfof what such a master of diction as Mr. Reiss was saying was a newsensation to his admirers who understand German. Yet the fault was aslittle his as it was Mr. Goritz's that so much of what he said went fornothing; it was all his misfortune, including the fact that much of themusic is not adapted to his voice. 

The music offers a pleasanter topic than the action and dialogue. It isa relief to those listeners who go to the opera oppressed with memoriesof "Salome" and "Elektra. " It is not only that their ears are not sooften assaulted by rude sounds, they are frequently moved by phrases ofgreat and genuine beauty. Unfortunately the Straussian system ofcomposition demands that beauty be looked for in fragments. Continuityof melodic flow is impossible to Strauss--a confession of his inabilityeither to continue Wagner's method, to improve on it, or inventanything new in its place. The best that has been done in the Wagnerianline belongs to Humperdinck. 

[Footnote: "Der Rosenkavalier" had its first American production at theMetropolitan Opera House, New York, on December 9, 1913, the cast beingas follows:--

 Feldmarschallin Furstin Werdenberg. .. .. .. .. .. . Frieda Hempel Baron Ochs auf Lerchenau. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Otto Goritz Octavian, genannt Quinquin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Margarete Ober Herr von Faninal. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Hermann Weil Sophie, seine Tochter. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Anna Case Jungfer Marianne Leitmetzerin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Rita Fornia Valzacchi, ein Intrigant. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Albert Reiss Annina, seine Begleiterin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Marie Mattfeld Ein Polizeikommissar. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Carl Schlegel Haushofmeister der Feldmarschalh'n. .. .. .. .. .. . Pietro Audisio Haushofmeister bei Faninal. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Lambert Murphy Ein Notar. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Basil Ruysdael Ein Wirt. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Julius Bayer Ein Sanger. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Carl Jorn Drei adelige Waisen. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Louise Cox Rosina Van Dyck Sophie Braslau Eine Modistin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Jeanne Maubourg Ein Lakai. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Ludwig Burgstaller Ein kleiner Neger. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Ruth Weinstein

 Conductor--Alfred Hertz]

CHAPTER XIV

"Konigskinder"

Once upon a time a witch cast a spell upon a king's daughter and heldher in servitude as a gooseherd. A prince found her in the forest andloved her. She loved him in return, and would gladly have gone awayfrom her sordid surroundings with him, though she had spurned the crownwhich he had offered her in exchange for her wreath of flowers; butwhen she escaped from her jailer she found that she could not break thecharm which held her imprisoned in the forest. Then the prince left thecrown lying at her feet and continued his wanderings. Scarcely had hegone when there came to the hut of the witch a broommaker and awoodchopper, guided by a wandering minstrel. They were ambassadors fromthe city of Hellabrunn, which had been so long without a king that itsboorish burghers themselves felt the need of a ruler in spite of theirboorishness. To the wise woman the ambassadors put the questions: Whoshall be this ruler and by what sign shall they recognize him? Thewitch tells them that their sovereign shall be the first person whoenters their gates after the bells have rung the noon hour on themorrow, which is the day of the Hella festival. Then the minstrelcatches sight of the lovely goose-girl, and through the prophetic giftpossessed by poets he recognizes in her a rightly born princess for hispeople. By the power of his art he is enabled to put aside thethreatening spells of the witch and compel the hag to deliver themaiden into his care. He persuades her to break the enchantment whichhad held her bound hitherto and defy the wicked power. 

Meanwhile, however, grievous misfortunes have befallen the prince, herlover. He has gone to Hellabrunn, and desiring to learn to serve inorder that he might better know how to rule, he had taken service as aswineherd. The daughter of the innkeeper becomes enamoured of theshapely body of the prince, whose proud spirit she cannot understand, and who has repulsed her advances. His thoughts go back to thegoosegirl whose wreath, with its fresh fragrance, reminds him of hisduty. He attempts to teach the burghers their own worth, but the wenchwhose love he had repulsed accuses him of theffy and he is about to beled off to prison when the bells peal forth the festal hour. 

Joyfully the watchmen throw open the strong town gates and themultitude and gathered councillors fall back to receive their king. Butthrough the doors enters the gooseherd, proudly wearing her crown andfollowed by her flock and the minstrel The lovers fall into eachother's arms, but only the poet and a little child recognize them as ofroyal blood. The boorish citizens, who had fancied that their kingwould appear in regal splendor, drive the youth and maiden out withcontumely, burn the witch and cripple the minstrel by breaking one ofhis legs on the wheel. Seeking his home, the prince and his love losetheir way in the forest during a snowstorm and die of a poisoned loafmade by the witch, for which the prince had bartered his broken crown, under the same tree which had sheltered them on their first meeting;but the children of Hellabrunn, who had come out in search of them, guided by a bird, find their bodies buried under the snow and give themroyal acclaim and burial. And the prescient minstrel hymns theirvirtues. 

This is the story of Engelbert Humperdinck's opera "Konigskinder, "which had its first performance on any stage at the Metropolitan OperaHouse, New York, on December 28, 1910, with the following cast:

 Der Konigssohn. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Herman Jadlowker Die Gansemagd. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Geraldine Farrar Der Spielmann. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Otto Goritz Die Hexe. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Louise Homer Der Holzhacker. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Adamo Didur Der Besenbinder. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Albert Reiss Zwei Kinder. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Edna Walter and Lotte Engel Der Ratsalteste. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Marcel Reiner Der Wirt. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Antonio Pini-Corsi Die Wirtstochter. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Florence Wickham Der Schneider. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Julius Bayer Die Stallmagd. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Marie Mattfeld Zwei Torwachter. .. .. Ernst Maran and William Hinshaw

 Conductor: Alfred Hertz

To some in the audience the drama was new only in the new operaticdress with which Humperdinck had clothed it largely at the instance ofthe Metropolitan management. It had been known as a spoken play fortwelve years and three of its musical numbers--the overture and twopieces of between-acts music--had been in local concert-lists for thesame length of time. The play had been presented with incidental musicfor many of the scenes as well as the overture and entr'actes in 1898in an extremely interesting production at the Irving Place Theatre, then under the direction of Heinrich Conried, in which Agnes Sorma andRudolf Christians had carried the principal parts. It came back fouryears later in an English version at the Herald Square Theatre, butneither in the German nor the English performance was it vouchsafed usto realize what had been the purpose of the author of the play and thecomposer of the music. 

The author, who calls herself Ernst Rosmer, is a woman, daughter ofHeinrich Forges, for many years a factotum at the Bayreuth festivals. It was her father's devotion to Wagner which gave her the name of Elsa. She married a lawyer and litterateur in Munich named Bernstein, and haswritten a number of plays besides "Konigskinder, " which she publishedin 1895, and afterward asked Herr Humperdinck (not yet a royal Prussianprofessor, but a simple musician, who had made essays in criticisms andtried to make a composer out of Siegfried Wagner) to provide withincidental music. Mr. Humperdinck took his task seriously. The play, with some incidental music, was two years old before Mr. Humperdinckhad his overture ready. He had tried a new experiment, which proved afailure. The second and third acts had their preludes, and the songs ofthe minstrel had their melodies and accompaniments, and all theprincipal scenes had been provided with illustrative music in theWagnerian manner, with this difference, that the dialogue had been"pointed, " as a church musician would say--that is, the rhythm wasindicated with exactness, and even the variations of pitch, though itwas understood that the purpose was not to achieve song, but anintensified utterance, halfway between speech and song. This wasmelodrama, as Herr Humperdinck conceived it and as it had no doubtexisted for ages--ever since the primitive Greek drama, in fact. It iseasy to understand how Herr Humperdinck came to believe in thepossibility of an art-form which, though accepted, for temporaryeffect, by Beethoven and Cherubini, and used for ballads with greateror less success by Schumann, had been harshly rejected by his greatmodel and master, Wagner. Humperdinck lives in Germany, where in nearlyevery theatre there is more or less of an amalgamation of the spokendrama and the opera--where choristers play small parts and actors, though not professional singers, sing when not too much is required ofthem. And yet Herr Humperdinck found out that he had asked too much ofhis actors with his "pointed" and at times intoned declamation, and"Konigskinder" did not have to come to America to learn that thecompromise was a failure. No doubt Herr Humperdinck thought of turningso beautiful a play into an opera then, but it seems to have requiredthe stimulus which finally came from New York to persuade him to carryout the operatic idea, which is more than suggested in the score as itlies before me in its original shape, into a thorough lyric drama. Theset pieces which had lived in the interim in the concert-room weretransferred into the opera-score with trifling alterations andcondensations and so were the set songs. As for the rest it needed onlythat note-heads be supplied to some of the portions of the dialoguewhich Humperdinck had designed for melodic declamation to have thoseportions ready for the opera. Here an example:--

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

A German opera can generally stand severer criticism than one inanother language, because there is a more strict application ofprinciples in Germany when it comes to writing a lyric drama than inany other country. So in the present instance there is no need toconceal the fact that there are outbreaks of eroticism and offencesagainst the German language which are none the less flagrant andcensurable because they are, to some extent, concealed under the thinveneer of the allegory and symbolism which every reader must haverecognized as running through the play. This is, in a manner, Wagnerian, as so much of the music is Wagnerian--especially that of thesecond act, which because it calls up scenes from the "Meistersinger"must also necessarily call up music from the same comedy. But there islittle cause here for quarrel with Professor Humperdinck. He hasapplied the poetical principle of Wagner to the fairy tale which is soclosely related to the myth, and he has with equal consistency appliedWagner's constructive methods musically and dramatically. It is to hisgreat honor that, of all of Wagner's successors, he has been the onlyone to do so successfully. 

The story of "Konigskinder, " though it belongs to the class of fairytales of which "Hansel und Gretel" is so striking and beautiful anexample, is not to be found as the author presents it in the literatureof German Marchen. Mme. Bernstein has drawn its elements from manysources and blended them with the utmost freedom. To avoid amisunderstanding Germans will insist that the title be used without thearticle, for "Die Konigskinder" or "Zwei Konigskinder" both suggest thesimple German form of the old tale of Hero and Leander, with whichstory, of course, it has nothing whatever to do. But if literarycriticism forbids association between Humperdinck's two operas, musicalcriticism compels it. Many of the characters in the operas are closerelations, dramatically as well as musically--the royal childrenthemselves, the witches, of course, and the broom-makers. The rest ofthe characters have been taken from Wagner's "Meistersinger" picturebook; the citizens of Hellabrunn are Nuremberg's burghers, the city's'councillors, the old master singers. The musical idiom isHumperdinck's, though its method of employment is Wagner's. But herelies its charm: Though the composer hews to a theoretical line, he doesit freely, naturally, easily, and always with the principle of musicalbeauty as well as that of dramatic truthfulness and propriety in view. His people's voices float on a symphonic stream, but the voices of theinstruments, while they sing on in endless melody, use the idiom whichnature gave them. There is admirable characterization in the orchestralmusic, but it is music for all that; it never descends to mere noise, designed to keep up an irritation of the nerves. 

CHAPTER XV

"BORIS GODOUNOFF"

From whatever point of view it may be considered Mossourgsky's opera"Boris Godounoff" is an extraordinary work. It was brought to thenotice of the people of the United States by a first performance at theMetropolitan Opera House, in New York, on March 19, 1913, butintelligence concerning its character had come to observers of musicaldoings abroad by reports touching performances in Paris and London. Itis possible, even likely, that at all the performances of the workoutside of Russia those who listened to it with the least amount ofintellectual sophistication derived the greatest pleasure from it, though to them its artistic deficiencies must also have been mostobvious. Against these deficiencies, however, it presented itself, first of all, as a historical play shot through and through with alarge theme, which, since it belongs to tragedy, is universal andunhampered by time or place or people. To them it had something of thesweep, dignity, and solemnity and also something of the dramaticincongruity and lack of cohesion of a Shakespearian drama ascontradistinguished from the coherence of purpose and manner of amodern drama. 

To them also it had much strangeness of style, a style which was noteasily reconciled to anything with which the modern stage had made themfamiliar. They saw and heard the chorus enter into the action, not forthe purpose of spectacular pageantry, nor as hymners of theachievements of the principal actors in the story, but as participants. They heard unwonted accents from these actors and saw them behave inconduct which from moment to moment appeared strangely contradictory. There were mutterings of popular discontent, which, under threats, gaveway to jubilant acclamation in the first great scenes in the beginningof the opera. There were alternate mockeries and adulations in the nextscene in which the people figured; and running through other scenesfrom invisible singers came ecclesiastical chants, against which wereprojected, not operatic song in the old conception, but long passagesof heightened speech, half declamatory, half musical. A multitudecringed before upraised knouts and fell on its knees before theapproach of a man whose agents swung the knotted cords; anon theyacclaimed the man who sought to usurp a throne and overwhelmed withridicule a village imbecile, who was yet supposed because of his mentalweakness to be possessed of miraculous prescience, and therefore tohave a prevision of what was to follow the usurpation. They saw theincidents of the drama moving past their eyes within a framework ofbarbaric splendor typical of a wonderful political past, an amazingpolitical present, and possibly prophetic of a still more amazingpolitical future. 

These happily ingenuous spectators saw an historical personage rackedby conscience, nerve-torn by spectres, obsessed by superstitions, strong in position achieved, yet pathetically sweet and moving in hisexhibition of paternal love, and going to destruction through remorsefor crime committed. They were troubled by no curious questionings asto the accuracy of the historical representation. The Boris Godounoffbefore them was a remorse-stricken regicide, whose good works, if hedid any, had to be summed up for their imagination in the fact that heloved his son. In all this, and also in some of its music, the newopera was of the opera operatic. But to the unhappily disingenuous (orperhaps it would be better to say, to the instructed) there was muchmore in the new opera; and it was this more which so often gavejudgment pause, even while it stimulated interest and irritatedcuriosity. It was a pity that a recent extraordinary outburst ofenthusiasm about a composer and an opera should have had the effect ofdistorting their vision and disturbing their judgment. 

There was a reason to be suspicious touching this enthusiasm, becauseof its origin. It came from France and not from the home land of theauthor of the play or the composer of the music. Moreover, it waslargely based upon an element which has as little genuineness in Franceas a basis of judgment (and which must therefore be set down largely asan affectation) as in America. Loud hallelujahs have been raised inpraise of Moussorgsky because, discarding conventional law, hevitalized the music of the lyric poem and also the dramatic line, bymaking it the emotional flowering of the spoken word. When it becamenecessary for the precious inner brotherhood of Frenchmen who holdburning incense sticks under each others' noses to acclaim "Pelleas etMelisande" as a new and beautiful thing in dramatic music, it wasannounced that Moussorgsky was like Debussy in that he had demonstratedin his songs and his operas that vocal melody should and could bewritten in accordance with the rhythm and accents of the words. We hadsupposed that we had learned that lesson not only from Gluck andWagner, but from every true musical dramatist that ever lived! And whenthe Frenchmen (and their feeble echoers in England and America) beganto cry out that the world make obeisance to Moussorgsky on that score, there was no wonder that those whose eagerness to enjoy led them toabsorb too much information should ask how this marvellous psychicalassonance between word and tone was to be conveyed to their unfortunatesense and feeling after the original Russian word had beentransmogrified into French or English. In New York the opera, which weknow to be saturated in some respects with Muscovitism, or Slavicism, and which we have every reason to believe is also so saturated in itsmusico-verbal essence, was sung in Italian. With the change some of thecharacter that ought to make it dear to the Russian heart must haveevaporated. It is even likely that vigorous English would have been abetter vehicle than the "soft, bastard Latin" for the forcefulutterances of the operatic people. 

It is a pity that a suspicion of disingenuousness and affectationshould force itself upon one's thoughts in connection with the Frenchenthusiasm over Moussorgsky; but it cannot be avoided. So far asMoussorgsky reflects anything in his art, it is realism or naturalism, and the latter element is not dominant in French music now, and is notlikely to be so long as the present tendency toward sublimatedsubjectivism prevails. Debussy acclaimed Moussorgsky enthusiastically adozen years ago, but for all that Moussorgsky and Debussy are antipodesin art--they represent extremes. 

It is much more likely that outside of its purely literary aspect (alarge aspect in every respect in. France) the Moussorgsky cult of thelast few years was a mere outgrowth of the political affiliationbetween France and Russia; as such it may be looked upon in the samelight as the sudden appreciation of Berlioz which was a product of theChauvinism which followed the Franco-Prussian War. It is easy even foryoung people of the day in which I write to remember when a Wagneropera at the Academie Nationale raised a riot, and when the dances atthe Moulin Rouge and such places could not begin until the band hadplayed the Russian national hymn. 

Were it not for considerations of this sort it would be surprising tocontemplate the fact that Moussorgsky has been more written and talkedabout in France than he was in his native Russia, and that even hisfriend Rimsky-Korsakoff, to whose revision of the score "BorisGodounoff" owes its continued existence, has been subjected to muchrude criticism because of his work, though we can only think of it astaken up in a spirit of affection and admiration. He and the Russians, with scarcely an exception, say that his labors were in the line ofpurification and rectification; but the modern extremists will have itthat by remedying its crudities of harmonization and instrumentation heweakened it--that what he thought its artistic blemishes were itsvirtues. Of that we are in no position to speak, nor ought any one berash enough to make the proclamation until the original score ispublished, and then only a Russian or a musician familiar with theRussian tongue and its genius. The production of the opera outside ofRussia and in a foreign language ought to furnish an occasion to demanda stay of the artistic cant which is all too common just now in everycountry. 

We are told that "Boris Godounoff" is the first real Russian opera thatAmerica has ever heard. In a sense that may be true. The presentgeneration has heard little operatic music by Russian composers. Rubinstein's "Nero" was not Russian music in any respect. "Pique Dame, "by Tschaikowsky, also performed at the Metropolitan Opera House, hadlittle in it that could be recognized as characteristically Russian. "Eugene Onegin" we know only from concert performances, and itsMuscovitism was a negligible quantity. The excerpts from other Russianoperas have been few and they demonstrated nothing, though in anintermezzo from Tschaikowsky's "Mazeppa, " descriptive of the battle ofPoltava, which has been heard here, we met with the strong choral tunewhich gives great animation to the most stirring scene in "Boris"--theacclamation of the Czar by the populace in the first act. Of thissomething more presently. There were American representations, however, of a Russian opera which in its day was more popular than "Boris" hasever been; but that was so long ago that all memories of it have died, and even the records are difficult to reach. Some fifty years ago aRussian company came to these shores and performed Verstoffsky's"Askold's Tomb, " an opera which was republished as late as 1897 andwhich within the first twenty-five years of its existence had 400performances in Moscow and 200 in St. Petersburg. Some venturesomecritics have hailed Verstoffsky as even more distinctively apredecessor of Moussorgsky than Glinka; but the clamor of those who arepreaching loudly that art must not exist for art's sake, and that theugly is justified by the beauty of ugliness, has silenced the voices ofthese critical historians. 

This may thus far have seemed a long and discursive disquisition on thesignificance of the new opera; but the questions to which theproduction of "Boris Godounoff" give rise are many and grave, especially in the present state of our operatic activities. They have astrong bearing on the problem of nationalism in opera, of which thosein charge of our operatic affairs appear to take a careless view. Asidefrom all aesthetic questions, "Boris Godounoff" bears heavily on thatproblem. It is a work crude and fragmentary in structure, but it istremendously puissant in its preachment of nationalism; and it isstrong there not so much because of its story and the splendidbarbarism of its external integument as because of its nationalism, which is proclaimed in the use of Russian folk-song. All previousexperiments in this line become insignificant in comparison with it, and it is questionable if any other body of folk-song offers such anopportunity to the operatic composer as does the Russian. The hero ofthe opera is in dramatic stature (or at least in emotional content) aMacbeth or a Richard III; his utterances are frequently poignant andheart searching in the extreme; his dramatic portrayal by M. Chaliapinein Europe and Mr. Didur in America is so gripping as to call upmemories of some of the great English tragedians of the past. But wecannot speak of the psychology of the musical setting of his wordsbecause we have been warned that it roots deeply in the accents andinflections of a language with which we are unfamiliar and which wasnot used in the performance. But the music of the choral masses, thesongs sung in the intimacy of the Czar Boris's household, the chants ofthe monks, needed not to be strange to any student of folk-song, norcould their puissance be lost upon the musically unlettered. In the oldKolyada Song "Slava" [Footnote: Lovers of chamber music know thismelody from its use in the allegretto in Beethoven's E minor Quartetdedicated to Count Rasoumowski, where it appears thus:--] with whichBoris is greeted by the populace, as well as in the wild shoutings ofthe Polish vagrom men and women in the scene before the last, it isimpossible not to hear an out-pouring of that spirit of which Tolstoiwrote: "In it is yearning without end, without hope; also powerinvincible, the fateful stamp of destiny, iron preordination, one ofthe fundamental principles of our nationality with which it is possibleto explain much that in Russian life seems incomprehensible. "

No other people have such a treasure of folk-song to draw on as thatthus characterized, and it is not likely that any other people willdevelop a national school of opera on the lines which lie open to theRussian composer, and which the Russian composer has been encouraged toexploit by his government for the last twenty years or more. 

It is possible that some critics, actuated by political rather thanartistic considerations, will find reasons

[figure: a musical score excerpt]

for the present condition of Moussorgsky's score in the attitude of theRussian government. It is said that court intrigues had much to do withthe many changes which the score had to undergo before it becameentirely acceptable to the powers that be in the Czar's empire. Possibly. But every change which has come under the notice of thisreviewer has been to its betterment and made for its practicalpresentation. It is said that the popular scenes were curtailed becausethey represented the voice of the democracy. But there is still so muchchoral work in the opera that the judgment of the operatic audiences ofto-day is likely to pronounce against it measurably on that account. For, splendid as the choral element in the work is, a chorus is notlooked upon with admiration as a dramatic element by the ordinary operalover. There was a lack of the feminine element in the opera, and toremedy this Moussorgsky had to introduce the Polish bride of the FalseDmitri and give the pair a love scene, and incidentally a polonaise;but the love scene is uninteresting until its concluding measures, andthese are too Meyerbeerian to call for comment beyond the fact thatMeyerbeer, the much contemned, would have done better. As for thepolonaise, Tschaikowsky has written a more brilliant one for his"Eugene Onegin. "

The various scores of the opera which have been printed show thatMoussorgsky, with all his genius, was at sea even when it came toapplying the principles of the Young Russian School, of which he is setdown as a strong prop, to dramatic composition. With all his additions, emendations, and rearrangements, his opera still falls much short ofbeing a dramatic unit. It is a more loosely connected series of scenes, from the drama of Boris Godounoff and the false Dmitri, than Boito's"Mefistofele" is of Goethe's "Faust. " Had he had his own way the operawould have ended with the scene in which Dmitri proceeds to Moscow amidthe huzzas of a horde of Polish vagabonds, and we should have hadneither a Boris nor a Dmitri opera, despite the splendid opportunitiesoffered by both characters. It was made a Boris opera by bringing it toan end with the death of Boris and leaving everything except the scenesin which the Czar declines the imperial crown, then accepts it, andfinally dies of a tortured conscience, to serve simply as intermezzi, in which for the moment the tide of tragedy is turned aside. This andthe glimpse into the paternal heart of the Czar is the only andbeautiful purpose of the domestic scene, in which the lighter and morecheerful element of Russian folk-song is introduced. 

At the first American performance of "Boris Godounoff" the cast was asfollows:--

 Boris. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Adamo Didur Theodore. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Anna Case Xenia. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Lenora Sparkes The Nurse. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Maria Duchene Marina. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Louise Homer Schouisky. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Angelo Bada Tchelkaloff. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Vincenzo Reschiglian Pimenn. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Leon Rothier Dmitri. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Paul Althouse (his debut) Varlaam. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. . Andrea de Segurola Missail. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Pietro Audisio The Innkeeper. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Jeanne Maubourg The Simpleton. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Albert Reiss A Police Officer. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Giulio Rossi A Court Officer. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Leopoldo Mariani Lovitzky. .. .. . ). Two Jesuits. .. .. .. .. . ( V. Reschiglian Tcerniakowsky, ) ( Louis Kreidler

 Conductor: Arturo Toscanini

CHAPTER XVI

"MADAME SANS-GENE" AND OTHER OPERAS BY GIORDANO

The opera-goers of New York enjoyed a novel experience when Giordano's"Madame Sans-Gene" had its first performance on any stage in theirpresence at the Metropolitan Opera House on January 25, 1915. It wasthe first time that a royal and imperial personage who may be said tolive freshly and vividly in the minds of the people of this generationas well as in their imaginations appeared before them to sing histhoughts and feelings in operatic fashion. At first blush it seemed asif a singing Bonaparte was better calculated to stir their risibilitiesthan their interest or sympathies; and this may, indeed, have been thecase; but at any rate they had an opportunity to make the acquaintanceof Napoleon before he rose to imperial estate. But, in all seriousness, it is easier to imagine the figure which William II of Germany wouldcut on the operatic stage than the "grand, gloomy, and peculiar"Corsican. The royal people with whom the operatic public is familiar asa rule are sufficiently surrounded by the mists of antiquity andobscurity that the contemplation of them arouse little thought of theincongruity which their appearance as operatic heroes ought to create. Henry the Fowler in "Lohengrin, " Mark in "Tristan und Isolde, " theunnumbered Pharaoh in "Aida, " Herod in "Salome" and "Herodiade, " andthe few other kings, if there are any more with whom the presentgeneration of opera-goers have a personal acquaintance, so to speak, are more or less merely poetical creations whom we seldom if ever thinkof in connection with veritable history. Even Boris Godounoff is to usmore a picture out of a book, like the Macbeth whom he so stronglyresembles from a theatrical point of view, than the monarch who had alarge part in the making of the Russian people. The Roman censorshipprevented us long ago from making the acquaintance of the Gustavus ofSweden whom Ankerstrom stabbed to death at a masked ball, bytransmogrifying him into the absurdly impossible figure of a Governorof Boston; and the Claudius of Ambroise Thomas's opera is as much aghost as Hamlet's father, while Debussy's blind King is as much anabstraction as is Melisande herself. 

Operatic dukes we know in plenty, though most of them have come out ofthe pages of romance and are more or less acceptable according to thevocal ability of their representatives. When Caruso sings "La donna emobile" we care little for the profligacy of Verdi's Duke of Mantua anddo not inquire whether or not such an individual ever lived. Moussorgsky's Czar Boris ought to interest us more, however. The greatbell-tower in the Kremlin which he built, and the great bell--ashattered monument of one of his futile ambitions--have been seen bythousands of travellers who never took the trouble to learn that thetyrant who had the bell cast laid a serfdom upon the Russian peoplewhich endured down to our day. Boris, by the way, picturesque anddramatic figure that he is as presented to us in history, never gotupon the operatic stage until Moussorgsky took him in hand. Two hundredyears ago a great German musician, Mattheson, as much scholar ascomposer if not more, set him to music, but the opera was neverperformed. Peter the Great, who came a century after Boris, lived alife more calculated to invite the attention of opera writers, but evenhe escaped the clutches of dramatic composers except Lortzing, who tookadvantage of the romantic episode of Peter's service as ship carpenterin Holland to make him the hero of one of the most sparkling of Germancomic operas. Lortzing had a successor in the Irishman T. S. Cooke, buthis opera found its way into the limbo of forgotten things more than ageneration ago, while Lortzing's still lives on the stage of Germany. Peter deserved to be celebrated in music, for it was in his reign thatpolyphonic music, albeit of the Italian order, was introduced into theRussian church and modern instrumental music effected an entrance intohis empire. But I doubt if Peter was sincerely musical; in his youth heheard only music of the rudest kind. He was partial to the bagpipesand, like Nero, played upon that instrument. 

To come back to Bonaparte and music. "Madame Sans-Gene" is an operaticversion of the drama which Sardou developed out of a little one-actplay dealing with a partly fictitious, partly historical story in whichNapoleon, his marshal Lefebvre, and a laundress were the principalfigures. Whether or not the great Corsican could be justified as acharacter in a lyric drama was a mooted question when Giordanoconceived the idea of making an opera out of the play. It is said thatVerdi remarked something to the effect that the question depended uponwhat he would be called upon to sing, and how he would be expected tosing it. The problem was really not a very large or difficult one, forall great people are turned into marionettes when transformed intooperatic heroes. 

In the palmy days of bel canto no one would have raised the question atall, for then the greatest characters in history moved about the stagein stately robes and sang conventional arias in the conventionalmanner. The change from old-fashioned opera to regenerated lyric dramamight have simplified the problem for Giordano, even if his librettisthad not already done so by reducing Napoleon to his lowest terms from adramatic as well as historical point of view. The heroes ofeighteenth-century opera were generally feeble-minded lovers andnothing more; Giordano's Napoleon is only a jealous husband who helpsout in the denouement of a play which is concerned chiefly with otherpeople. 

In turning Sardou's dramatic personages into operatic puppets a greatdeal of bloodletting was necessary and a great deal of thecharacteristic charm of the comedy was lost, especially in the cases ofMadame Sans-Gene herself and Napoleon's sister; but enough was left tomake a practicable opera. There were the pictures of all the plebeianswho became great folk later concerned in the historical incidents whichlifted them up. There were also the contrasted pictures which resultedfrom the great transformation, and it was also the ingratiatingincident of the devotion of Lefebvre to the stout-hearted, honestlittle woman of the people who had to try to be a duchess. All this wasfair operatic material, though music has a strange capacity forrefining stage characters as well as for making them colorless. Giordano could not do himself justice as a composer without refiningthe expression of Caterina Huebscher, and so his Duchess of Dantzictalks a musical language at least which Sardou's washerwoman could nottalk and remain within the dramatic verities. Therefore we have "MadameSans-Gene" with a difference, but not one that gave any more offencethan operatic treatment of other fine plays have accustomed us to. 

To dispose of the artistic merits of the opera as briefly as possible, it may be said that in more ways than one Giordano has in this workharked back to "Andrea Chenier, " the first of his operas which had ahearing in America. The parallel extends to some of the politicalelements of the book as well as its musical investiture with its echoesof the popular airs of the period of the French Revolution. The styleof writing is also there, though applied, possibly, with more matureand refined skill. I cannot say with as much ingenuousness andfreshness of invention, however. Its spirit in the first act, andlargely in the second, is that of the opera bouffe, but there are manypages of "Madame Sans-Gene" which I would gladly exchange for any oneof the melodies of Lecocq, let us say in "La Fille de Mme. Angot. " Likeall good French music which uses and imitates them, it is full of crisprhythms largely developed from the old dances which, originallyinnocent, were degraded to base uses by the sans-culottes; and so thereis an abundance of life and energy in the score though little of thedistinction, elegance, and grace that have always been characteristicof French music, whether high-born or low. The best melody in themodern Italian vein flows in the second act when the genuine affectionand fidelity of Caterina find expression and where a light touch iscombined with considerable warmth of feeling and a delightfuldaintiness of orchestral color. Much of this is out of harmony with thefundamental character of Sardou's woman, but music cannot deny itsnature. Only a Moussorgsky could make a drunken monk talk truthfully inmusic. 

If Giordano's opera failed to make a profound impression on the NewYork public, it was not because that public had not had opportunity tolearn the quality of his music. His "Andrea Chenier" had been producedat the Academy of Music as long before as November 13, 1896. With itthe redoubtable Colonel Mapleson went down to his destruction inAmerica. It was one of the many strange incidents in the career of Mr. Oscar Hammerstein as I have related them in my book entitled "Chaptersof Opera" [Footnote: New York, Henry Holt & Co. ] that it should havebeen brought back by him twelve years later for a single performance atthe Manhattan Opera House. In the season of 1916-1917 it wasincorporated in the repertory of the Boston-National Opera Company andcarried to the principal cities of the country. On December 16, 1906, Mr. Heinrich Conried thought that the peculiar charms of MadameCavalieri, combined with the popularity of Signor Caruso, might givehabitation to Giordano's setting of an opera book made out of Sardou's"Fedora"; but it endured for only four performances in the season of1906-1907 and three in the next, in which Conried's career came to anend. In reviving "Andrea Chenier" Mr. Hammerstein may have had visionsof future triumphs for its composer, for a few weeks before (onFebruary 5, 1908) he had brought forward the same composer's "Siberia, "which gave some promise of life, though it died with the season thatsaw its birth. 

The critical mind seems disposed to look with kindness upon new worksin proportion as they fall back in the corridors of memory; and so I aminclined to think that of the four operas by Giordano which I haveheard "Andrea Chenier" gives greatest promise of a long life. Theattempt to put music to "Fedora" seemed to me utterly futile. Onlythose moments were musical in the accepted sense of the word when theaction of the drama ceased, as in the case of the intermezzo, or whenthe old principles of operatic construction waked into life again as inthe confession of the hero-lover. Here, moreover, there comes into thescore an element of novelty, for the confession is extorted from Lorriswhile a virtuoso is entertaining a drawing-roomful of people with a setpianoforte solo. As for the rest of the opera, it seems sadly deficientin melody beautiful either in itself or as an expression of passion. "Andrea Chenier" has more to commend it. To start with, there is a goodplay back of it, though the verities of history were not permitted tohamper the imagination of Signor Illica, the author of the book. Thehero of the opera is the patriotic poet who fell under the guillotinein 1794 at the age of thirty-two. The place which Saint-Beuve gave himin French letters is that of the greatest writer of classic verse afterRacine and Boileau. The operatic story is all fiction, more so, indeed, than that of "Madame Sans-Gene. " As a matter of fact, the veritableChenier was thrown into prison on the accusation of having sheltered apolitical criminal, and was beheaded together with twenty-three otherson a charge of having engaged in a conspiracy while in prison. In theopera he does not die for political reasons, though they are alleged asa pretext, but because he has crossed the love-path of a leader of therevolution. 

When Giordano composed "Siberia, " he followed the example of Mascagniand Puccini (if he did not set the example for them) by seeking localcolor and melodic material in the folk-songs of the country in whichhis scene was laid. Puccini went to Japan for musical ideas and devicesto trick out his "Madama Butterfly" as Mascagni had done in "Iris. "Giordano, illustrating a story of political oppression in "Siberia, "called in the aid of Russian melodies. His exiles sing theheavy-hearted measures of the bargemen of the Volga, "Ay ouchnem, " theforceful charm of which few Russian composers have been able to resist. He introduced also strains of Easter music from the Greek church, thepopular song known among the Germans as "Schone Minka" and the "Glory"song (Slava) which Moussorgsky had forged into a choral thunderbolt inhis "Boris Godounoff. " It is a stranger coincidence that the "Slava"melody should have cropped up in the operas of Giordano and Moussorgskythan that the same revolutionary airs should pepper the pages of"Madame Sans-Gene" and "Andrea Chenier. " These operas are allied insubject and period and the same style of composition is followed inboth. 

Chenier goes to his death in the opera to the tune of the"Marseillaise" and the men march past the windows of CaterinaHuebscher's laundry singing the refrain of Roget de Lisle's hymn. ButGiordano does not make extensive use of the tune in "Madame Sans-Gene. "It appears literally at the place mentioned and surges up with fineeffect in a speech in which the Duchess of Dantzic overwhelms the proudsisters of Napoleon; but that is practically all. The case is differentwith two other revolutionary airs. The first crash of the orchestralaunches us into "La Carmagnole, " whose melody provides the thematicorchestral substratum for nearly the entire first scene. It is aninnocent enough tune, differing little from hundreds of Frenchvaudeville melodies of its period, but Giordano injects vitriol intoits veins by his harmonies and orchestration. With all its innocencethis was the tune which came from the raucous throats of politicallycrazed men and women while noble heads tumbled into the bloody sawdust, while the spoils of the churches were carried into the NationalConvention in 1793, and to which "several members, quitting theircurule chairs, took the hands of girls flaunting in priests' vestures"and danced a wild rout, as did other mad wretches when a dancer wasworshipped as the Goddess of Reason in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. 

Caterina's account of the rude familiarity with which she is treated bythe soldiery (I must assume a knowledge of Sardou's play which theopera follows) is set to a melody of a Russian folk-song cast in thetreatment of which Russian influences may also be felt; but with thefirst shouts of the mob attacking the Tuileries in the distance thecharacteristic rhythmical motif of the "Ca ira" is heard muttering inthe basses. Again a harmless tune which in its time was perverted to ahorrible use; a lively little contradance which graced many a cotillionin its early days, but which was roared and howled by the mob as itcarried the beauteous head of the Lamballe through the streets of Parison a pike and thrust it almost into the face of Marie Antoinette. 

Of such material and a pretty little dance ("La Fricassee") is themusic of the first act, punctuated by cannon shots, made. It is allrhythmically stirring, it flows spiritedly, energetically along withthe current of the play, never retarding it for a moment, but, unhappily, never sweetening it with a grain of pretty sentiment oradorning it with a really graceful contour. There is some graciousnessin the court scene, some archness and humor in the scene in which theDuchess of Dantzic submits to the adornment of her person, somedramatically strong declamation in the speeches of Napoleon, somesimulation of passion in the love passages of Lefebvre and of Neipperg;but as a rule the melodic flood never reaches high tide. 

CHAPTER XVII

TWO OPERAS BY WOLF-FERRARI

When the operas of Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari came to America (his beautifulsetting of the "Vita Nuova" was already quite widely known at thetime), it was thought singular and somewhat significant that though theoperas had all been composed to Italian texts they should have theirfirst Italian performances in this country. This was the case with "LeDonne Curiose, " heard at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, onJanuary 3, 1912; of "Il Segreto di Susanna, " which theChicago-Philadelphia Opera Company brought to New York after giving ita hearing in its home cities, in February, 1912; of "I Giojelli dellaMadonna" first produced in Berlin in December, 1911, and in Chicago afew weeks later. A fourth opera, "L'Amore Medico, " had its firstrepresentation at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, on March 25, 1914. 

The circumstance to which I have alluded as worthy of comment was due, I fancy, more to the business methods of modern publishers than to awant of appreciation of the operas in Italy, though

[figure: a musical score excerpt. A page of the Score of the German"Donne Curiose"]

Signor Wolf-Ferrari sought to meet the taste of his countrymen(assuming that the son of a German father and a Venetian mother is tobe set down as an Italian) when he betrayed the true bent of his geniusand sought to join the ranks of the Italian veritists in his "Giojellidella Madonna. " However, that is not the question I am desirous todiscuss just now when the first impressions of "Le Donne Curiose" comeflocking back to my memory. The book is a paraphrase of Goldoni'scomedy of the same name, made (and very deftly made) for the composerby Count Luigi Sugana. It turns on the curiosity of a group of womenconcerning the doings of their husbands and sweethearts at a club fromwhich they are excluded. The action is merely a series of incidents inwhich the women (the wives by rifling the pockets of their husbands, the maidens by wheedling, cajoling, and playing upon the feelings oftheir sweethearts) obtain the keys of the club-room, and effect anentrance only to find that instead of gambling, harboring mistresses, seeking the philosopher's stone, or digging for treasure, as isvariously suspected, the men are enjoying an innocent supper. In theireagerness to see all that is going on, the women betray their presence. Then there follow scoldings, contrition, forgiveness, a gracefulminuet, and the merriment runs out in a wild furlana. 

Book and score of the opera hark back a century or more in theirmethods of expression. The incidents of the old comedy are as looselystrung together as those of "Le Nozze di Figaro, " and the parallel iscarried further by the similarity between the instrumental apparatus ofMozart and Wolf-Ferrari and the dependence of both on melody, ratherthan orchestral or harmonic device, as the life-blood of the music uponwhich the comedy floats. It is Mozart's orchestra that the moderncomposer uses ("the only proper orchestra for comedy, " as Berliozsaid), eschewing even those "epical instruments, " the trombones. Itwould not do to push the parallel too far, though a keen listener mightfeel tempted also to see a point of semblance in the Teutonism whichtinctures the Italian music of both men; a Teutonism which adds aningredient more to the taste of other peoples than that of the peoplewhose language is employed. But while the Italianism of Mozart waswholly the product of the art-spirit of his time, the Teutonism ofWolf-Ferrari is a heritage from his German father and its Italianismpartakes somewhat of the nature of a reversion to old ideals from whicheven his mother's countrymen have departed. There is an almost amusingillustration of this in the paraphrase of Goldoni's comedy which thecomposer took as a libretto. The Leporello of Da Ponte and Mozart hashis prototype in the Arlecchino of the classic Italian comedy, but hehas had to submit to so great a metamorphosis as to make him scarcelyrecognizable. But in the modern "Donne Curiose" we have not only theold figure down to his conventional dress and antics, but also hiscompanions Pantaloon and Columbine. All this, however, may be betterenjoyed by those who observe them in the representation than those whowill only read about them, no matter how deftly the analysis may bemade. 

It is Mozart's media and Mozart's style which Wolf-Ferrari adopts, butthere are traces also of the idioms of others who have been universalmusicians rather than specifically Italian. Like Nicolai's "O susseAnna!" (Shakespeare's "Oh, Sweet Anne Page"), Wolf-Ferrari's Florindobreathes out his languishing "Ah, Rosaura!" And in the lively chatterof the women there is frequently more than a suggestion of the livelygossip of Verdi's merry wives in his incomparable "Falstaff. "Wolf-Ferrari is neither a Mozart nor a Verdi, not even a Nicolai, as amelodist, but he is worthy of being bracketed with them, because asfrankly as they he has spoken the musical language which to him seemeda proper investiture of his comedy, and like them has made thatlanguage characteristic of the comedy's personages and illustrative ofits incidents. He has been brave enough not to fear being called areactionary, knowing that there is always progress in the successfulpursuit of beauty. 

The advocates of opera sung in the language native to the hearers mayfind an eloquent argument in "Le Donne Curiose, " much of whose humorlies in the text and is lost to those who cannot understand it despitethe obviousness of its farcical action. On the other hand, a feeling ofgratitude must have been felt by many others that they were notcompelled to hear the awkward commonplaces of the English translationof the libretto. The German version, in which the opera had its firsthearing in Munich six years before, is in a vastly differentcase--neither uncouth nor halting, even though it lacks thecharacteristic fluency essential to Italian opera buffa; yet no morethan did the speech of most of the singers at the Metropolitanperformance. The ripple and rattle of the Italian parlando seem to bepossible only to Italian tongues. 

The Mozartian type of music is illustrated not only in the character ofmany of its melodies, but also in the use of motivi in what may becalled the dramatic portions--the fleet flood upon which the dialoguedances with a light buoyancy that is delightfully refreshing. Thesemotivi are not used in the Wagnerian manner, but as every change ofsituation or emotion is characterized in Mozart's marvellous ensemblesby the introduction of a new musical idea, so they are in his moderndisciple's. All of them are finely characteristic, none more so thanthe comical cackle so often heard from the oboe in the scenes whereinthe women gossip about the imaginary doings of the men--an intentionalecho, it would almost seem, of the theme out of which Rameau made hisdainty harpsichord piece known as "La Poule. " The motto of the club, "Bandie xe le done, " is frequently proclaimed with more or lesspomposity; Florindo's "Ah, Rosaura, " with its dramatic descent, lendssentimental feeling to the love music, and the sprightly rhythm whichaccompanies the pranks of Colombina keeps much of the music bubblingwith merriment. In the beginning of the third act, not only theinstrumental introduction, but much of the delightful music whichfollows, is permeated with atmosphere and local color derived from afamiliar Venetian barcarolle ("La biondina in gondoleta"), but themusical loveliness reaches its climax in the sentimental scenes--aquartet, a solo by Rosaura, and a duet, in which there breathes thesympathetic spirit of Smetana as well as Mozart. 

[Footnote: The cast at the first performance at the Metropolitan OperaHouse was as follows:--

 Ottavio. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Adamo Dfdur Beatrice. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Jeanne Maubourg Rosaura. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Geraldine Farrar Florindo. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Hermann Jadlowker Pantalone. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Antonio Pini-Corso Lelio. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Antonio Scotti Leandro. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Angelo Bada Colombina. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Bella Alten Eleonora. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Rita Fornia Arlechino. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Andrea de Segurola Asdrubale. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Pietro Audisio Almoro. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Lambert Murphy Alviso. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Charles Hargreaves Lunardo. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Vincenzo Reschiglian Momolo. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Paolo Ananian Menego. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Giulio Rossi Un Servitore. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Stefen Buckreus Conductor--Arturo Toscanini. ]

In "Le Donne Curiose, " the gondoliers sing their barcarolle and compeleven the cynic of the drama to break out into an enthusiasticexclamation: "Oh, beautiful Venice!" The world has heard more of thenatural beauties of Naples than of the artificial ones of Venice, butwhen Naples is made the scene of a drama of any kind it seems that itsattractions for librettist and composer lie in the vulgarity and vice, libertinism and lust, the wickedness and wantonness, of a portion ofits people rather than in the loveliness of character which such aplace might or ought to inspire. 

Perhaps it was not altogether surprising that when Wolf-Ferrari turnedfrom Venice and "Le Donne Curiose" to "I Giojelli della Madonna" withNaples as a theatre for his drama he should not only change the styleof his music, but also revert to the kind of tale which hispredecessors in the field seem to have thought appropriate to the placewhich we have been told all of us should see once and die out of sheerecstasy over its beauty. But why are only the slums of Naples deemedappropriate for dramatic treatment?

How many stories of Neapolitan life have been told in operas sinceAuber wrote his "La Muette di Portici" I do not know; doubtless manywhose existence ended with the stagione for which they were composed. But it is a singular fact bearing on the present discussion that whenthe young "veritists" of Italy broke loose after the success ofMascagni's "Cavalleria rusticana" there came almost a universal desireto rush to the Neapolitan shambles for subjects. New York has beenspared all of these operas which I have described in an earlier chapterof this book, except the delectable "A Basso Porto" which Mr. Savage'scompany gave to us in English sixteen years ago; but never since. 

Whether or not Wolf-Ferrari got the subject of "I Giojelli dellaMadonna" from the sources drawn on by his predecessors, I do not know. I believe that, like Leoncavallo, he has said that the story of hisopera has a basis of fact. Be this as it may, it is certain that thecomposer called on two versifiers to help him out in making the book ofthe opera and that the story in its essence is not far removed fromthat of the French opera "Aphrodite, " by Baron Erlanger. In that operathere is a rape of the adornments of a statue of Venus; inWolf-Ferrari's work of the jewels enriching an effigy of the VirginMary. The story is not as filthy as the other plots rehearsedelsewhere, but in it there is the same striving after sharp ("piquant, "some will say) contrasts, the blending of things sacred and profane, the mixture of ecclesiastical music and dances, and--what is mostsignificant--the generous use of the style of melody which came in withPonchielli and his pupils. In "I Giojelli della Madonna" a young womandiscards the love of an honest-hearted man to throw herself, out ofsheer wantonness, into the arms of a blackguard dandy. To win her heartthrough her love of personal adornment the man of faithful mind (thesuggestion having come from his rival) does the desperate deed ofstealing for her the jewels of the Madonna. It is to be assumed thatshe rewards him for the sacrilegious act, but without turning away fromthe blackguard, to whom she grants a stolen interview during the timewhen her true love is committing the crime. But even the vulgar andwicked companions of the dandy, who is a leader among the Camorristi, turn from her with horror when they discover the stolen jewels aroundher neck, and she gives herself to death in the sea. Then the poorlover, placing the jewels on the altar, invokes forgiveness, and, seeing it in a ray of light which illumines them, thrusts a dagger intohis heart and dies at the feet of the effigy of the goddess whom he hadprofaned. 

The story would not take long in the telling were it not tricked outwith a multitude of incidents designed to illustrate the popular lifeof Naples during a festival. Such things are old, familiar, andunnecessary elements, in many cases not even understood by theaudience. But with them Signor Wolf-Ferrari manages to introduce mostsuccessfully the atmosphere which he preserves even throughout histragical moments--the atmosphere of Neapolitan life and feeling. Thescore is saturated with Neapolitan folk-song. I say Neapolitan ratherthan Italian, because the mixed population of Naples has introduced theelements which it would be rash to define as always Italian, or evenLatin. While doing this the composer surrendered himself unreservedlyand frankly to other influences. That is one of the things which makehim admirable in the estimation of latter-day critics. In "Le DonneCuriose" he is most lovingly frank in his companionship with Mozart. In"II Segreto" there is a combination of all the styles that prevailedfrom Mozart to Donizetti. In "I Giojelli" no attempt seems to have beenmade by him to avoid comparison with the composer who has made the mostsuccessful attempt at giving musical expression to a drama which fiftyyears ago the most farsighted of critics would have set down as toorapid of movement to admit of adequate musical expression? Mascagni andhis "Cavalleria rusticana, " of course. But I am tempted to say that themost marvellous faculty of Wolf-Ferrari is to do all these thingswithout sacrifice of his individuality. He has gone further. In "LaVita Nuova" there is again an entirely different man. Nothing in hisoperas seems half so daring as everything in this cantata. How he couldproduce a feeling of mediaevalism in the setting of Dante's sonnets andyet make use of the most modern means of harmonization andorchestration is still a mystery to this reviewer. Yet, having done itlong ago, he takes up the modern style of Italian melody and blends itwith the old church song, so that while you are made to think onemoment of Mascagni, you are set back a couple of centuries by thecadences and harmonies of the hymns which find their way into themerrymakings of the festa. But everything appeals to the ear? nothingoffends it, and for that, whatever our philosophical notions, we oughtto be grateful to the melodiousness, the euphony, and the richorchestration of the new opera. [The performances of "I Giojelli dellaMadonna" by the Chicago-Philadelphia Opera Company, as it was called inChicago, the Philadelphia-Chicago Opera Company, as it was called inPhiladelphia, were conducted by Cleofonte Campanini and the principalparts were in the hands of Carolina White, Louisa Barat, Amadeo Bassi, and Mario Sammarco. ]