The Standard Operaglass Part 25

This opera is the oldest of all we possess in our repertoire. Gluck had already written more than forty operas, of which we do not even know the names now, when he composed his Orfeo, breaking with the old Italian traditions and showing a new and more natural taste. All the charm of Italian melody is still to be found in this composition, but it is blent with real feeling, united to great strength of expression and its value is enhanced by a total absence of all those superfluous warbles and artificial ornaments, which filled the Italian operas of that time. The libretto, taken from the old and beautiful Greek tragedy, is as effective as the music.

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Orpheus, the celebrated Greek musician and singer has lost his wife Eurydice. His mournful songs fill the groves where he laments, and with them he touches the hearts not only of his friends but of the G.o.ds. On his wife's grave Amor appears to him, and bids him descend into Hades, where he is to move the Furies and the Elysian shadows with his sweet melodies, and win back from them his lost wife.

He is to recover her on a condition, which is, that he never casts a look on her on their return to earth, for if he fail in this, Eurydice will be for ever lost to him.

Taking his lyre and casque Orpheus promises obedience and with renewed hope sallies forth on his mission. The second act represents the gates of Erebus, from which flames arise. Orpheus is surrounded by furies and demons, who try to frighten him; but he, nothing daunted, mollifies them by his sweet strains, and they set free the pa.s.sage to Elysium, where Orpheus has to win the happy shadows. He beholds Eurydice among them, veiled, the happy shadows readily surrender her to him, escorting the pair to the gates of their happy vale.

The third act beholds the spouses on their way back to earth. Orpheus holds Eurydice by the hand, drawing the reluctant wife on, but without raising his eyes to her face, on and on through the winding and obscure paths, which lead out of the infernal regions. Notwithstanding his protestations {250} of love and his urgent demands to her to follow him, Eurydice never ceases to implore him to cast a single look on her, threatening him with her death, should he not fulfil her wish.

Orpheus, forbidden to tell her the reason of his strange behaviour, long remains deaf to her cruel complaints, but at last he yields, and looks back, only to see her expire under his gaze. Overwhelmed by grief and despair Orpheus draws his sword to destroy himself, when Amor appears, and stays the fatal stroke.

In pity for Orpheus' love and constancy he reanimates Eurydice (contrary however to the letter of the Greek tragedy) and the act closes with a beautiful chorus sung in Amor's praise.

OTh.e.l.lO.

Opera in four acts by GIUSEPPE VERDI.

Text by ARRIGO BOITO, translated into the German by MAX KALBECK.

In his seventy-third year the Maestro has given to his time an opera, which surpa.s.ses his former compositions in many respects. It proves, that Verdi's genius has remained admirably fresh and that the new views and revelations, which Wagner opened to the musical world have been fully understood by the Italian. He has now broken with the unnatural traditions of the Italian opera, and has in Oth.e.l.lo given us a work, which secures to him an honored place among the best dramatic composers.

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It must not be omitted, that Verdi had a splendid second in the person of Boito, the high-minded and capable composer of "Mefistofele". He omits in his action all that is incidental, and as a consequence the force of thought and expression is the more powerful. It is written strictly after Shakespeare's original.

The opera was put on the stage in Munich in the summer of 1888 with great success.

The first scene represents the people, following excitedly the course of Oth.e.l.lo's s.h.i.+p, which battles with the waves. After he has landed and informed the a.s.sembly of his victory over the Turks, shouts of joy and exultation rend the air.

Then follows a convivial chat between Ca.s.sio, Rodrigo and Jago, in the course of which the latter makes Ca.s.sio drunk. Jago's demoniacal nature is masterfully depicted here, where he soon succeeds in ruining Ca.s.sio, who loses his rank as captain.

In the third scene we see Desdemona with her husband, both rejoicing in the felicity of their mutual love.

In the second act Jago proceeds to carry out his evil intents, by sending Ca.s.sio to Desdemona, who is to intercede for him with Oth.e.l.lo.

Jago then calls Oth.e.l.lo's attention to the retiring Ca.s.sio and by making vile insinuations inflames his deadly jealousy. Desdemona appears, surrounded by women and children, who offer her flowers and presents. She comes forward to plead for Ca.s.sio, and Oth.e.l.lo suspiciously refuses.--She takes out her {252} handkerchief to cool her husband's aching forehead with it, but he throws it down and Emilia, Jago's wife, picks it up. Jago wrenches it from her and hides it.

In the next scene Jago's villainous insinuations work upon Oth.e.l.lo, who becomes wildly suspicious. Jago relates a dream of Ca.s.sio's, in which he reveals his love for Desdemona, then he hints that he has seen Oth.e.l.lo's first love-token, her lace-handkerchief in Ca.s.sio's hands, and both swear to avenge Desdemona's infidelity.

In the third act Oth.e.l.lo pretending to have a head-ache, asks for Desdemona's lace-handkerchief. She has lost it, she tells him, but he is incredulous and charges her with infidelity. All her protests are useless, and at length he forces her to retire. Meanwhile Jago has brought Ca.s.sio and urges Oth.e.l.lo to hide himself. Ca.s.sio has a lady-love named Bianca, and of her they speak, but Jago dexterously turns the dialogue so as to make Oth.e.l.lo believe that they are speaking of his wife. His jealousy reaches its climax, when Ca.s.sio draws forth Desdemona's handkerchief which Jago has deposited in Ca.s.sio's house.

All his doubts now seem to be confirmed. A cannon-shot announcing the arrival of a galley interrupts the conversation and Ca.s.sio quickly leaves.

In the following scene Jago advises Oth.e.l.lo to strangle his wife.

Oth.e.l.lo consents and gives Jago a captaincy.

Lodovico, an Amba.s.sador of Venice, arrives {253} with other n.o.bles to greet their liberator Oth.e.l.lo. Desdemona once more asks pardon for Ca.s.sio, but is roughly rebuked by her husband. The latter reads the order, which has been brought to him, and tells Ca.s.sio, that he is to be General in his stead by will of the Doge of Venice, but while Ca.s.sio is confounded by this sudden change of fortune, Jago secretly vows his death, instigating his rival Rodrigo to kill him. At last Oth.e.l.lo faints, overcome by conflicting emotions.

In the fourth act Desdemona filled with sad forebodings takes a touching farewell of Emilia. When she has ended her fervent prayer (one of the most beautiful things in the opera), she falls into a peaceful slumber. Oth.e.l.lo awakes her with a kiss, and tells her immediately thereafter that she must die. She protests her innocence, but in vain, for Oth.e.l.lo telling her that Ca.s.sio can speak no more, smothers her. Hardly has he completed his ghastly work than Emilia comes up, announcing that Rodrigo has been killed by Ca.s.sio. Desdemona with her dying breath once more a.s.serts her innocence, while Emilia loudly screams for help. When the others appear, Emilia discovers her husband's villany. Jago flies, and Oth.e.l.lo stabs himself at the feet of his innocent spouse.

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PAGLIACCI.

(MERRY ANDREW.)

Musical Drama in two acts and a Prologue.

Music and Text by R. LEONCAVALLO.

Translated into the German by LUDWIG HARTMANN.

In the summer of the year 1892 a rumour was going through the musical world, that Mascagni had found his equal, nay his superior in the person of another young Italian composer. When the "Pagliacci" by Leoncavallo was executed in Italy, it excited a transport of enthusiasm almost surpa.s.sing that of "Cavalleria", so that Berlin and Leipsic brought the opera on the stage as quickly as possible, and Dresden followed their example on January 22nd 1893, with the same great success.

The opera is indeed eminently qualified to produce an impression.

Though less condensed in its tragic depths than Cavalleria, the music is n.o.bler without being less realistic. In Leoncavallo the feeling of artistic form is more developed. Though of southern temper he never lets pa.s.sion get the better of the beautiful and true harmony, also he is Mascagni's senior by four years.

Leoncavallo's excellent musical education is as unmistakable as the influence of Wagner's music on his genius.--He, too, introduces the "Leading Motives", but he is far from imitating his great predecessor.

Like Wagner he did his text himself, and it must be owned, that it is very good. The idea was suggested to him by an event, which {255} he witnessed at Montalto in Calabria during the summer 1865, and which impressed him deeply.

In the Prologue, a wonderful piece of music, Tonio the Fool announces to the public the deep tragic sense which often is hidden behind a farce, and prepares them for the sad end of the lovers in this comedy.

The introduction with its wonderful Largo is like a mournful lamentation; then the curtain opens, showing the entry of a troop of wandering actors, so common in southern Italy. They are received with high glee by the peasants, and Canio, the owner of the troop, invites them all to the evening's play. Canio looks somewhat gloomy, and he very much resents the taunts of the peasants, who court his beautiful wife Nedda, and make remarks about the Fool's attentions to her.

Nevertheless Canio gives way to his friends' invitation for a gla.s.s of Chianti wine, and he takes leave of his wife with a kiss, which however does not quite restore her peace of mind, Nedda's conscience being somewhat disturbed. But soon she casts aside all evil forebodings and vies with the birds in warbling pretty songs, which, though reminding the hearer of Wagner's Siegfried are of surpa.s.sing harmony and sweetness. Tonio the Fool, spying the moment to find Nedda alone, approaches her with a declaration of love, but she haughtily turns from him, and as he only grows more obtrusive and even tries to embrace her she seizes a whip and slaps him in the face. Provoked to fury he swears to {256} avenge himself. Hardly has he turned away when the peasant Silvio appears on the wall. He is Nedda's lover, and having seen Canio sitting in the tavern, he entreats her to separate herself from the husband she never loved and take flight with him. Nedda hesitates between duty and pa.s.sion, and at last the latter prevails, and she sinks into his arms. This love-duet is wonderful in style and harmony. Tonio unfortunately has spied out the lovers and returns with Canio. But on perceiving the latter's approach Silvio has leapt over the wall, his sweetheart's body covering his own person, so that Canio is unable to recognize his rival; he once more reminds Nedda to be ready that night and than takes flight. With an inarticulate cry Canio rushes after him and Nedda falls on her knees to pray for her lover's escape, while Tonio the Fool triumphs over her misery. The husband however returns defeated; panting he claims the lover's name, and Nedda's lips remaining sealed, he is about to stab his wife, when Beppo the Harlequin intervenes, and, wrenching the dagger from his unfortunate master's hands intimates, that it is time to prepare for the play. While Nedda retires, Canio breaks out into a bitter wail of his hard lot, which compels him to take part in the farce, which for him is bitter reality. With this air the tragic height of the opera is reached.

In the second act the spectators throng before the small stage, each of them eager to get the best seat. Nedda appears, dressed as Colombine, {257} and while she is collecting the money, she finds time to warn Silvio of her husband's wrath. The curtain opens, and Nedda is seen alone on the stage, listening to the sentimental songs of Arlequin, her lover in the play. Before she has given him the sign to enter, Tonio, in the play called Taddeo the Fool enters, bringing the food which his mistress has ordered for herself and Arlequin. Just as it really happened in the morning, the poor Fool now makes love to her in play; but when scornfully repulsed he humbly retires, swearing to the goodness and pureness of his lady-love. Arlequin entering through the window, the two begin to dine merrily, but Taddeo reenters in mocking fright, to announce the arrival of the husband Bajazzo (Canio). The latter however is in terrible earnest, and when he hoa.r.s.ely exacts the lover's name, the lookers-on, who hitherto have heartily applauded every scene, begin to feel the awful tragedy hidden behind the comedy.

Nedda remains outwardly calm and mockingly she names innocent Arlequin as the one who had dined with her. Then Bajazzo begins by reminding her, how he found her in the street a poor waif and stray, whom he nursed, petted and loved, and Nedda remaining cold, his wrath rises to fury and he wildly curses her, shrieking "the name, I will know his name!" But Nedda, though false is no traitress. "Should it cost my life, I will never betray him" she cries, at the same time trying to save her life, by hurrying from the stage amongst the spectators. Too late alas; Canio {258} already has reached and stabbed her, and Silvio, who rushes forward, also receives his death-stroke from the hands of the deceived husband, who has heard his name slip from the dying lips of his wife. All around stand petrified, n.o.body dares to touch the avenger of his honor, who stands by his wife's corpse limp and brokenhearted: "Go", says he, "go, the farce is ended."

PARSIFAL.

A festival Drama by RICHARD WAGNER.

Though Parsifal is never to be given on any stage except in Baireuth (by Wagner's express wish), it must find its place here, by dint of being the master's last and most perfect composition.

In Parsifal the heavenly greatness of the Christian idea of G.o.d, which is at the foundation of the legend of the holy Grail, finds grand expression. There scarcely exists another composition of such lofty and religious spirit, as finds expression in the Communion-scene. It is not possible to imagine a more vivid contrast than that between the saintly melodies and those of the fascinating fairies, which latter, glowing with poetry and ravis.h.i.+ng music captivate all senses.

The contents are those of the ancient German legend. The first scene is laid in a forest on the grounds of the keepers of the Grail near Castle Monsalvat. Old Gurnemanz awakes two young Squires for their morning prayer, and bids two {259} Knights prepare a bath for the sick King Amfortas who suffers cruelly from a wound, dealt him by the sorcerer Klingsor, the deadly foe of the holy Grail. The Grail is a sacred cup, from which Christ drank at the last Pa.s.sover and which also received his holy blood. t.i.turel, Amfortas' father has built the castle to s.h.i.+eld it, and appointed holy men for its service. While Gurnemanz speaks with the Knights about their poor master's sufferings, in rushes Kundry, a sorceress in Klingsor's service, condemned to laugh eternally as a punishment for having derided Christ, while he was suffering on the cross. She it was who with her beauty seduced Amfortas, and deprived him of his holy strength, so that Klingsor was enabled to wring from the King his holy spear Longinus, with which he afterwards wounded him. Kundry is in the garb of a servant of the Grail; she brings balm for the King, who is carried on to the stage in a litter, but it avails him not: "a guileless fool" with a child's pure heart; who will bring back the holy spear and touch him with it, can alone heal his wound.