Act III.

The scene changes again to Kirke's enchanted garden. On the steps of

the palace Odysseus lies sleeping with his head resting on Kirke's

knee. He murmurs names in his dreams. Kirke listens, hoping to hear

her own name, but only hears that of Penelopeia. Enraged, the

enchantress roughly wakens him. The hero is himself again. He

exclaims: "Away to my native land! to my wife! to my hearth and home!"

A wild struggle begins between the two. Kirke strives with all her

arts and blandishments to enchain him, to keep him. Odysseus resists;

he has gained the victory over himself, he is no longer in the power of

the syren; his will is inflexible. All in vain does she strive to

charm him by the delights of her garden; the songs and dances of her

maidens; her sweetest caresses. He turns from her with loathing, he

curses her. At last Kirke's love turns to fierce hatred; she changes

her garden into a desert; she calls upon Helios to come and slay her

recreant lover. The sun god appears indeed, but says Zeus has

forbidden him to injure Odysseus. In mad {410} frenzy Kirke tears his

bow and arrow from Helios; she will kill her false lover herself; but

her heart misgives her, the arrow sinks from her hand. At the same

moment, Hermes, as messenger of the Gods appears and cries: "Set the

hero of Ilium free!" Kirke, subdued, requires Odysseus to unsay the

curse he had spoken against her. "Be it so!" he solemnly says; and he

is free.

He is now joined by his remaining companions, they have found their

arms; they arm Odysseus; the ship is ready to sail; they all hasten

away. Helios remains to console Kirke; he foretells that she shall

have a son; a heroic child; she sinks smiling on a flower covered

couch; Helios lulls her to sleep. In the distance is seen the ship

with the heroes sailing joyously away.

The song of Gäa is heard once more.

The curtain falls.

ERNANI.

A melodramatic Opera in four parts.

Taken from VICTOR HUGO'S Drama of the same name.

Text by F. MARIA PIAVE.

Music by GIUSEPPE VERDI.

Verdi wrote this opera in 1844 when in his thirtieth year. One cannot

help being struck by the improvement shown in it, as compared with

Verdi's first operas Nabukadnezar and the Lombardi, and through Ernani

the composer at once became one of the most popular musicians in Italy.

The opera did not however at first find favour {411} in France and

Germany, and Verdi's fame was only established in these countries by

his later operas, Rigoletto and Il Trovatore. But of late Ernani has

been revived and duly appreciated wherever his fine melodies are heard,

and its passionnate verve is felt, which is mostly due to its highly

dramatic subject.

Here is a brief outline of the libretto:--

Ernani, an Italian rebel of obscure parentage is the accepted lover of

Donna Elvira, the high-born niece of Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, Grandee of

Spain.

Donna Elvira is also coveted by Don Carlos, King of Spain, and by her

old uncle Silva, who is about to wed her, much against her will.

Ernani comes to Silva's castle in the garb of a pilgrim, and finds the

King in Donna Elvira's room, trying to lure her away. Here they are

surprised by de Silva, who, failing to recognize his sovereign

challenges both men to mortal combat.--When he recognizes the King in

one of his foes, he is in despair and humbly craves his pardon, which

is granted to him.--At the same time Don Carlos sends Ernani away on a

distant errand, hoping to rid himself of him once for all; but Donna

Elvira vows to kill herself rather than belong either to the King or to

her uncle, and promises unwavering constancy to her lover Ernani.

Nevertheless the second Act shows Elvira on the eve of her wedding with

her uncle de Silva.

Ernani, once more proclaimed an outlaw seeks {412} refuge in de Silva's

castle, again disguised as a pilgrim. But when Ernani hears of Donna

Elvira's approaching marriage with de Silva, he reveals his identity

and offers his head to the old man, telling him that his life is

forfeited and that a reward is offered for his capture. De Silva is

too generous to betray his rival; he orders the gates of the castle to

be barred at once.--While this is being done, Ernani violently

reproaches Elvira for having played him false. She answers, that she

has been led to believe him dead, and dissolved in tears they embrace

tenderly. Thus they are surprised by de Silva who, though for the time

being bound by the laws of hospitality swears to destroy Ernani,

wherever he may find him.

For the moment however he conceals his foe so well, that Don Carlos'

followers cannot find him. Though the King threatens to take the old

man's life, the nobleman remains true to his word and even makes the

greatest sacrifice by delivering Elvira as a hostage into the King's

hands.

Left alone he opens Ernani's hiding-place and challenges him to fight,

but when the latter proves to him, that Don Carlos is his rival and

wants to seduce Elvira, de Silva's wrath turns against the King.

He accepts Ernani's offer to help him in frustrating the King's

designs, but at the same time he reminds him that his life is

forfeited.--Ernani declares himself satisfied and gives de Silva a

bugle, the sound of which is to proclaim, that the hour of reckoning

between the two foes has come.

{413}

The third Act takes place at Aix-la-Chapelle.

The King has heard of the conspiracy against his life. While the

conspirators assemble in the imperial vaults, he is concealed behind

the monument of Charlemagne and frustrates their designs by advancing

from his hiding-place and proclaiming himself Emperor.--

At the same moment the people rush in and do homage to Charles the

Fifth.--Ernani surrenders to his foes, but Elvira implores the

Emperor's pardon, which is granted, and Charles crowns his gracious act

by uniting the lovers and creating Ernani Duke of Segorbia.

Both Elvira and Ernani go to Seville to celebrate their nuptials. But

in the midst of their bliss Ernani hears the sound of his bugle and de

Silva appears and claims his rival's life. In vain the lovers implore

his mercy, de Silva is inexorable and relentlessly gives Ernani the

choice between a poisoned draught and a dagger. Seizing the latter

Ernani stabs himself, while Donna Elvira sinks senseless beside his

corpse, leaving the aged de Silva to enjoy his revenge alone.

WERTHER.

A Lyric Drama lu three Acts by J. MASSENET.

Text from GOETHE by BLAU, MILLIET and HARTMANN.

German Translation by MAX KALBECK.

The subject of this opera is Goethe's famous novel of the same name.

Though the text is not to be compared with {414} that of the novel, the

music to which Massenet has set it is so marvellously adapted to its

lyric and idyllic qualities, that one is inclined to forget its

deficiencies while listening to the melodious strains.

The scene is laid in Wetzlar in the year 1772.

The first Act takes place in the house of Lotte's father, who is a

bailiff in his native city. He has assembled his younger children to

teach them a new Christmas song. While they are practising two friends

of the bailiff enter and invite him to take supper with them at the

neighbouring inn, he declines however and sits down in his arm chair,

while the smaller children climbing on to his knees begin their

interrupted song once more. During this pretty scene Werther

approaches. He sees Lotte coming out of the house, becomingly attired

for a country-ball. She is duly admired by her father and the

children. Then she acquits herself most charmingly of her household

duties by distributing bread to the children. Werther meanwhile is

cordially welcomed by her father.--Other visitors come in and Lotte

goes to attend the ball, escorted by Werther.

Sophia the second daughter persuades her father to join his friends at

the inn and promises to look after the children.--

He is hardly gone, when Albert, Lotte's affianced husband, who has been

on a journey returns.

On hearing that Lotte is not at home, he leaves the house again.--When

night comes on {415} Lotte returns with Werther. The latter is deeply

in love with her, and she listens to his sweet words like one in a

dream, but when her father informs her that Albert has returned she

comes to her senses. In answer to Werther's questions she tells him,

that she promised her dying mother to wed Albert, which confession

leaves Werther a prey to gloom and despair.

The second Act takes place in the autumn of the same year. Lotte is

married to Albert. She has conquered her sentimental fancy for Werther

and is sitting quietly with her husband, enjoying a peaceful Sabbath

day, and the celebration of the village clergyman's golden wedding.

Werther is a jealous witness of her happiness; but when Albert welcomes

him as a friend, he cannot but accept his overtures.--

Sophia enters with a large bouquet for the clergyman, she is in love

with Werther, but the unhappy young man has eyes for her sister only,

who receives him coldly and bids him leave the village.

On seeing Werther so cast-down, Lotte repents of her harshness and

invites him to celebrate Christmas with her and her husband. But

Werther refuses to be consoled and hurries away notwithstanding

Sophia's entreaties, vowing never to return.

The third Act takes place in Lotte's drawing-room. She is sitting

alone in deep thought. Werther's frequent and passionnate letters have

{416} reawakened her dormant love for him and her sister, coming in

laden with Christmas parcels, finds her in tears. Unable to console

Lotte, Sophia takes her leave after inviting her to spend Christmas Eve

at her old home.--

Hardly has she gone when Werther appears. Unable to keep away from

Lotte any longer he reminds her of her invitation for Christmas, and

seeing his letters spread out on the table he guesses that Lotte

returns his love.--An impassioned love-scene follows.--Half unconscious

Lotte sinks into his arms, but the first kiss of her lover brings her

to herself. Tearing herself from his embrace she flees into her room

and bolts the door. After vain remonstrations Werther rushes out

half-crazed.

Albert returning home finds no one in and calls Lotte. She appears

pale and distressed, and her husband perceives that something is wrong.

Before she can reply to his questions a servant brings in a note from

Werther, asking Albert for his pistol. The husband forces his unhappy

wife to hand the weapon to the servant herself. As soon as Albert has

gone Lotte seizes her hat and cloak and hastens out to prevent the

impending calamity. Alas! she comes too late.--The last scene shows

Werther's room, which is dimly lighted by the moon. The

Christmas-bells are tolling when Lotte enters, calling her lover by

name.--She discovers him lying on the floor mortally wounded.--Now that

he is lost to her for ever she pours out all her love and for a brief

space calls him back {417} to life and sweetens his last moments by a

first kiss. He expires in her arms while from the opposite house the

children's voices are heard singing their Christmas song.

THE DEPARTURE.

Comic Opera in one Act.

Libretto by A. VON STEIGENTESCH (end of 18th century).

Arranged by FERDINAND COUNT SPORCK.

With Music by EUGÈNE D'ALBERT.

By this opera the young composer, whose previous dramatic efforts were

to a certain extent unsuccessful, has proved that his forte lies in

comic opera.

The Departure was given in Dresden in October 1900, and was a complete

success.

The whole opera teems with bright and merry melodies, wrought-in with

consumate art, and the text, though somewhat frivolous is artistically

adapted to the music.

The principal motive is the love-motive, its strains which run through

the whole opera are not only charming but original. The orchestration

is in the style at present in vogue, which subordinates the voices more

or less to the music.

The following is a short synopsis of the libretto.

The husband Gilfen rather neglects his pretty wife Louise, while his

friend Trott pays court to her.

In the first scene we find Gilfen undecided, whether to set out on a

journey, or not.

{418}

Trott desiring his absence offers to do everything in his power to

hasten his friend's departure, of course all for friendship's sake.

Gilfen puts him to the test by pretending to need all sorts of things.

He begs Trott to fetch a parcel lying at the custom-house, and weighing

forty pounds; a letter from the post-office, a rose-tree for Louise,

and a travelling-map, which was only to be had at a stationer's shop at

a considerable distance.

Before leaving the house Trott finds an opportunity to tell Louise that

he does all this for her sake only. Gilfen, finding him with his wife,

sends him on his errands and then leaves Louise to herself. She is

filled with sadness by her husband's indifference and sings a pretty

song about a youth, who makes love to a maiden, and a man, who neglects

his wife. Gilfen returns, attracted by the song, and guessing that his

wife still loves him as before he decides to stay at home.

Louise leaves him and Trott returns out of breath and laden with

parcels. The husband thanks him, but explains that there is still a

letter to be written, for which an important document is needed, and is

to be found in a chest on the next floor. Trott is hastening away,

when Gilfen implies, that he must have the chest itself. Seeing the

carriage, waiting outside Trott rushes away, determined to do his

utmost for friendship's sake. Then Gilfen appears before his wife in

travelling costume.--In the interview, which ensues, Louise shows him

clearly, that her heart is still his, but that she longs {419} for more

tenderness and love. They are interrupted by Trott's entrance,

dragging in the heavy chest. Gilfen declares that he has now

everything he wants, and takes an affectionate farewell of his wife and

his friend.

Left alone, the latter loses no time in making love to Louise, but all

he gains is a friendly handshake. Mistaking her coolness for timidity,

he becomes bolder. At this moment Gilfen re-enters, telling them, that

his carriage has broken down. Trott hastens out, to see to its repair

and leaves husband and wife alone.

Now Gilfen owns that the carriage is intact and that he only come back,

because he felt, that he had left the best thing behind him. "What is

it, that would keep you at home?" asks Louise. "A wife, who would

plead with a smile: do not go," he answers.--

A pretty duet follows, in which they indulge in sweet reminiscences of

the past, and at last discover, that they still love each other as

fondly as ever. Embracing her husband Louise whispers smilingly: "Do

not go!"

When Trott returns Gilfen astonishes him by telling him that he has

decided to stay at home. Trott perceives at last that it is his turn

to go. While he still lingers, he receives a note from Louise, showing

him unmistakeably, that he is not wanted in their house. He retires

crestfallen, while Louise and Gilfen gaily wave their hands to the

departing friend.

{420}

DELILA.

An Opera in three Acts by FERDINAND LEMAIRE.

With Music by CAMILLE SAINT-SAËNS.

German translation by RICHARD POHL.

The first performance of this opera in Dresden on November 13th 1900

proved a great success.

This opera which was written almost thirty years ago did not meet with

a favourable reception either in France or in any other country. In

the year 1877 it was however given in Weimar through Liszt's influence,

but fell flat.

At last it was performed in Rouen in 1890, and in November 1892 the

Grand Opera in Paris followed suit. Since that time it has been one of

the standard operas in Paris.

Its performance in Dresden has shown, that it well deserves its place.--

The vivid contrast between the simple yet stirring choruses of the

Israelites and the pompous and warlike ones of the Philistines, the

exquisite love-song of Samson and Delila, and last but not least the

charming ballet-music, with its truly Eastern character entitle the

opera to rank amongst the very best of the past century.--

The libretto is a biblical one; the scene is laid in Gaza, in

Palestine, 1150 years before Christ.

In the first Act the Israelites, groaning under the yoke of the

Philistines, pray to God for deliverance. They are derided and

insulted by Abi {421} Melech, satrap of Gaza but Samson, unable longer

to endure the blasphemy hurled by the Heathen against the God of

Israel, rises up in mighty wrath, and so inspires his brethren that

they suddenly take up arms, and precipitating themselves on their

unsuspecting oppressors, first slay Abi Melech and then rout the whole

army of the Philistines.

The high-priest of the heathen god Dagon finding his friend slain, vows

to be avenged upon the Israelites, but he is deserted by all his

companions who flee before Samson's wrath.

In the next scene the Israelites return victorious and are greeted with

triumphant songs and offerings of flowers. Even the Philistine Delila,

the rose of Sharon receives them with her maidens, and pays homage to

the hero Samson.

Delila had enthralled him once before, and again her beauty causes him

very nearly to forget his people and his duty; but an aged Israelite

implores him not to listen any more to the arts and wiles of the

enchantress.

In the second Act Delila has an interview with the high-priest, whom

she promises to avenge her people by winning Samson's love once more.

She proudly refuses the reward which the high-priest offers her, for it

is her bitter hatred against the hero, who once loved and then forsook

her, which prompts her to ruin him and to force from him by every means

in her power the secret of his strength.

When the high-priest has left her, Samson {422} comes down the steep

mountain path, drawn to Delila's house against his will. She receives

him with the greatest tenderness, and once more her beauty and her

tears assert their power over him, so that he sinks at her feet and

falters out his love for her. But in vain she tries to lure his secret

from him. At last she leaves with words of contempt and scorn and

enters the house. This proves his undoing. Goaded beyond earthly

power he rushes after her and seals his fate. After a while the

Philistines surround the house and Delila herself delivers her

unfortunate lover, whom she has deprived of his strength by cutting off

his locks, into the hands of his foes.--

In the third Act we find Samson in prison. Bereft of his eye-sight he

has to turn the heavy mill. From the outside the wailings and

reproaches of his Israelite brethren are heard, who have again been

subjugated by their foes. Bitterly repentant Samson implores God to

take his life as the price of his people's deliverance.

In the last scene he is led away to Dagon's temple there to be present

at the festival of the Philistines, celebrated with great pomp in

honour of their victory.

On the conclusion, after an exquisite ballet, Delila presents a golden

cup to the blind hero, and insults and jeers at him for having been

fool enough to believe in her love for him, the enemy of her country.

Samson maintains silence, but when they order him to sacrifice {423} at

Dagon's shrine, he whispers to the child, who is guiding him, to lead

him to the pillars of the temple.

This being done he loudly invokes the God of Israel, and seizing the

pillars tears them down with mighty crash, burying the Philistines

under the ruins of the temple.

NAUSIKAA.

Second Part of the Tetralogy: The Odyssey.

Musical Tragedy in three acts and a Prologue by AUGUST BUNGERT.

The first representation of Nausikaa took place in Dresden on March

20th 1901.--The reception was much warmer than that given to Kirke.

Naturally the charming episode of the Phaeakean Princess is far better

adapted to the composer's lyric genuis.

Though the whole music is polyphoneous the easy flow of its melodies is

hardly ever interrupted except in the highly dramatic moments.

There are real pearls of lyric melody in this tragedy, which, totally

different from Kirke's selfish passion glorifies Nausikaa's pure love

for Odysseus, her death of sacrifice and the hero's resignation;--it

might be called a hymn of renunciation.

The sirens' songs in the Prologue are most enticing, the choruses of

Nausikaa's companions treading their dances are lovely; also Odysseus'

"home motive" which expresses his longing for {424} hearth and home, is

very expressive, but Nausikaa's "love motives" surpass all the other

parts in sweetness.

The contents of the libretto are as follows:

Prologue.

Across the calm blue sea in the distance a ship passes. In it can be

seen the figures of Odysseus and his companions. They can be heard

lamenting their long absence from home and praying the gods to send

them favourable winds and a speedy return to their native land.

In the foreground is the rocky coast of an island. Partly hidden by

the high cliffs, sirens may presently be seen looking out for their

prey. Brilliant, many coloured lights cast a lurid glare over their

hideous den that is full of dead men's bones, out of which roses,

poppies and other flowers have sprung into bloom. The sirens try to

attract Odysseus and his companions by singing sweetly, and playing

enticing music on weird instruments made out of the bones of their

victims.

Odysseus, however, is on his guard. He causes his men to stop their

ears with wax, and to bind him fast to the mast of his ship. The

attempt to lure them is unsuccessful. Though Persephoneia herself

rises from the depths to aid the sirens, Odysseus' ship sails safely

past and the sirens and their rocks sink into the sea.

But the hostile god Poseidon pursues Odysseus in rage. Seated in his

cart drawn by sea-horses {425} he strikes the ship with his trident,

and it goes down in the now stormy sea.

Zeus and the friendly gods now interpose. Poseidon is forced to

withdraw, and, though his companions perish and the ship is wrecked,

the nymph Leukothea brings a magic veil which ensures the hero's safety

and he swims to the shore.

Act I.

Odysseus has landed in the country of the Pheacians. In the first part

of this act he is lying asleep hidden among the shrubs and trees in the

background.

Nausikaa, the King's daughter has come at the bidding of Athene with

her companions to wash the linen and garments of her family. While the

clothes are drying in the sun the maidens dance and play at ball.

Their voices and laughter awake Odysseus who rises and shows himself

through the foliage. Seeing a nearly naked man the girls run away

screaming; only Nausikaa stands still and asks the stranger fearlessly

who he is. Odysseus tells her his piteous story and his cruel fate.

Nausikaa calls to her maidens to bring raiment for the hero whose name

however she has not yet heard. A sudden and tender love fills her

heart for the outcast wanderer. Odysseus too feels drawn towards the

noble maiden, for a moment he forgets his wife and child at home.

Nausikaa invites him to follow her to her father's court and promises

him a kindly reception there.

{426}

As the procession is starting, the sound of horns is heard and King

Alkinous and his followers come up. Among them are his son Leodamus,

and Prince Euryalos, a would-be suitor of Nausikaa. The King welcomes

the stranger kindly and invites him to come and stay in his palace.

Euryalos, however, regards Odysseus with suspicion and hostility; he

sees in him at once a favoured rival. With songs of welcome Odysseus

is greeted by the men and maidens and by the King's side he moves

towards the palace.

Act II.

This scene takes place in front of the palace of King Alkinous. The

gardens and terraces extend downwards to the shore of the sea that

forms the background. It is evening. Youths and maidens are busy

decking pillars and statues with garlands of flowers and making wreaths

to crown the victors in the next day's games.

Odysseus comes out of the palace; he cannot sleep; he thinks of his

home, his father, his wife and child. He sees a temple to Athene on

the right and resolves to spend the night there praying to the gods to

restore him to his home. He passes across the stage and goes into the

temple.

Nausikaa now comes out of the palace with some of her companions. She

presently dismisses them and remains alone in the moonlight. She prays

to Aphrodite to deliver her from the {427} importunate wooing of

Euryalos and to grant her the love of the stranger.

The vision of Aphrodite appears; with a threatening gesture she seems

to refuse Nausikaa's request. While Nausikaa sinks fainting on the

steps of the terrace the voice of Euryalos is heard in the background

singing a love song, and soon after he comes forward and stormily

declares his love to Nausikaa who rushes away from him with a cry into

the temple of Athene. As the bold youth is about to follow Odysseus

appears at the door of the temple and forces Euryalos to retire. The

baffled suitor rushes upon Odysseus with his drawn sword in blind rage;

but Odysseus instantly disarms him, breaks the sword, and Euryalos

vowing vengeance goes into the palace.

Though deeply moved by Nausikaa's passionate gratitude and affection

for her protector, Odysseus remains faithful to the memory of his wife

and child and prays the gods to help him to be strong.

Act III.

In a great court in front of the gymnasium where games and wrestling

matches are going on a procession of priests and young boys enter

singing; they offer prayers and burn incense before the altars of the

gods, particularly before that of Poseidon the special patron of the

Phaeakens. Girls and matrons follow in a like procession and deck the

statue and altar of Athene with flowers. The shouts of the people in

the gymnasium greeting the victors in the games are heard at intervals.

{428}

Among the maidens is Nausikaa. Her brother Leodamus enters soon

afterwards in great excitement and begs his sister to come and witness

the feats of Euryalos who is victor in all the games. But she coldly

asks if the stranger has entered into competition with him, and hearing

he has not done so she refuses to go into the gymnasium.

Queen Arete enters and Nausikaa throws herself into her mother's arms.

Arete guesses the truth that her daughter loves the stranger; she

tenderly warns Nausikaa that life is full of disappointments--of

sacrifices.

The King now enters from the gymnasium; beside him walks Odysseus who

had at last been persuaded to wrestle with Euryalos and had entirely

vanquished him. The people hail Odysseus as victor. Nausikaa hastens

to him and crowns him with the victor's wreath; she shows her

preference for him in such a marked manner that Euryalos is beside

himself with rage and draws his sword upon Odysseus who in selfdefence

wounds Euryalos severely.

Odysseus then turns to the King and implores him to give him a ship

that he may go back to his own country and family. These words fall

like a knell upon the heart of Nausikaa; she is led out fainting by her

mother.

The aged poet Homer now enters. All hail him with joy; the King bids

him sing them a song about Troy. The blind poet sings the tragic

story--the people join in the chorus. Odysseus listens; {429} at last

he can keep quiet no longer. Springing up he goes on with the story

giving his own share in it with such vividness that Nausikaa, who has

stolen back again, rushes forward and cries: "Thou art Odysseus

himself!" He acknowledges with tears that he is that unhappy man. The

people greet him with joy and wonder; the King embraces him warmly.

Odysseus relates his sorrows, his wanderings; he speaks of his wife and

child; he implores the King to give him a ship that he may return home.

The King readily promises his help, he gives orders that a ship shall

immediately be prepared and filled with costly gifts.

But the priests see in Odysseus the enemy of their god Poseidon; they

press the King to slay Odysseus--but the King sternly refuses to do so

and orders the High Priest to be bound till Odysseus is safely gone.

Nausikaa's hopes are dashed to the ground; heartbroken she murmurs to

herself her mother's words: "Each human life is a sacrifice, a death

for the dearest in the world." She slowly goes away and is seen later

standing on a high wall of Athene's temple overlooking the sea.

In the meantime all is ready, the King, Queen and Laodamus accompany

Odysseus to the ship and take leave of him; he goes on board and the

ship moves off. At this moment the sky is overcast and Poseidon

appears in his car and threatens Odysseus with his trident.

Nausikaa calls to Poseidon to take her for a {430} victim and with a

cry springs into the sea. The nymphs bear her dead body to Poseidon.

Zeus suddenly appears and drives Poseidon away, while Athene hovers

over Odysseus with shield and lance. He sails away in safety.

MANRU.

Opera in three acts by J. PADEREWSKI.

Text by ALFRED NOSSIG.

Dresden claims the honour of having first represented the celebrated

Polish pianist's opera.

The performance took place on May 29th 1901, and a closely packed house

showed its approbation in the most enthusiastic manner.

Those who will look out for reminiscences in every new piece of music

find of course that Paderewski is an imitator of Wagner, but though

Manru would probably not have been written without the composer's

intimate knowledge of the Ring of Nibelungen, the melodies and rythm

are entirely his own. The music is true gypsy music with very much

movement and highly phantastic colouring, reminding us sometimes of

Liszt and Bizet.

The best parts of the opera are the choruses of the village maidens in

the first act, the charming cradle song, the violin solo and the

love-duet in the second and the splendid gipsy music in the last act.

Nossig's libretto is very inferior to the music; its rhymes are often

absolutely trivial. The scene is laid in the Hungarian Tatra mountain

district.

{431}

Manru a wandering gipsy has fallen in love with a peasant girl Ulana

and has married her against her mother's wishes.

In the first act mother Hedwig laments her daughter's loss. While the

village lasses are dancing and frolicking Ulana returns to her mother

to ask her forgiveness; she is encouraged by a hunchback Urok, who is

devoted to her, and who persuades the mother to forgive her child, on

condition that she shall leave her husband. As Ulana refuses, though

she is in dire need of bread, Hedwig sternly shuts her door upon her

daughter. Ulana turns to Urok, who does his best to persuade her to

leave her husband.

Urok is a philosopher; he warns the poor woman, that gipsy blood is

never faithful, and that the time will come, when Manru will leave wife

and child.

Ulana is frightened and finally obtains from Urok a love potion, by

which she hopes to secure her husband's constancy.

When she tries to turn back into the mountains she is surrounded by the

returning villagers, who tease and torment her and the hunchback, until

Manru comes to their rescue. But his arrival only awakes the

villagers' wrath, they fall upon him and are about to kill him, when

mother Hedwig comes out and warns them not to touch the outlaws on whom

her curse has fallen.

The second act takes place in Manru's hiding place in the mountains.

The gipsy is tired of the {432} idyll. He longs for freedom and

quarrels with his wife, whose sweetness bores him. She patiently rocks

her child's cradle and sings him to rest. Suddenly Manru hears the

tones of a gipsy fiddle in the distance; he follows the sound and soon

returns with an old gipsy who does his best to lure him back to his

tribe. But once more love and duty prevail; and when Ulana sweetly

presents him the love-philtre he drains it at one draught, and

immediately feeling the fire of the strong and potent drug, he becomes

cheerful and receives his wife, who has adorned herself with a wreath

of flowers with open arms.

In the third act Manru rushes out of the small, close hut. His

intoxication is gone; he gasps for air and freedom. Wearily he

stretches himself on the ground and falls asleep. The full moon,

shining on him, throws him into a trance, during which he rises to

follow the gipsy tribe whose songs he hears. In this state he is found

by Asa, the gipsy queen, who loves him and at once claims him as her

own.

But the tribe refuses to receive the apostate, and their chief Oros

pronounces a terrible anathema against him. However Asa prevails with

her tribe to pardon Manru.

Oros in anger flings down his staff of office and departs, and Manru is

elected chief in his place.

Once more he hesitates, but Asa's beauty triumphs; he follows her and

his own people.

At this moment Ulana appears. Seeing that {433} her husband has

forsaken her, she implores Urok, who has been present during the whole

scene to bring Manru back to her.--Alas, it is in vain. When Ulana

sees Manru climbing the mountain path arm in arm with Asa, she drowns

herself in the lake.

But Manru does not enjoy his treachery; Oros, hidden behind the rocks

is on the watch for him and tearing Asa from him, he precipitates his

rival from the rocks into the lake.

FEUERSNOT

(THE PLAGUE OF DARKNESS).

A Lyric Poem (Singgedicht) in one act by ERNST VON WOLZOGEN.

Music by RICHARD STRAUSS.

The new Opera of the highly gifted young Bavarian composer was

represented for the first time in Dresden on November 21st 1901.

This absolutely original composition was received with acclamation, and

it deserves it. The musical part is so difficult, that it can only be

performed on a few very first rate stages, and it wants many hearings

to take in all its charm of instrumentation and its eminently modern

harmonies and intervals.

The text is very witty and very clever, and quite worthy of the music.

The story is taken from an old Dutch legend of rather free conception.

The scene is laid in Munich; it takes place at the summer solstice in

the far away middle-ages, or, as the author calls it "fabulous no-time."

{434}

The title has a double meaning as the explanation of the plot will show.

A band of merry children wanders from house to house, singing and

demanding wood for the bonfires of the summer solstice. After having

got a plentiful supply at the burgomaster's house, they cross over to

the opposite house, an old decayed building, called the Wizard's house.

Its inmate at first takes no notice of the children's noisy summons; at

last he appears at the door.

He, Kunrad, is a young dreamer, who has forgotten the outside world

over his books and studies. But the merry songs wake him suddenly to

life and sunshine. He gives up his whole house to the uproarious band,

beginning himself to tear down the battered shutters. The children set

to work to carry off every piece of wood, that is not too firmly

riveted, and Kunrad helps them full of glee.

Suddenly he perceives, Diemuth, the burgomaster's lovely daughter. His

hitherto perfectly untouched heart catches fire, and all at once he

steps up to her, presses her to his heart and kissing her he

passionately explains: "I will leap through the fire; wilt thou leap

after me?!"

Diemuth, who has all the time been gazing at the stranger like one in a

trance wakes up and turns from him with a cry of shame and indignation.

Kunrad is now attacked on all sides for his impertinence and Diemuth,

turning to her maiden friends, who secretly envy her for the adoration,

{435} the noble stranger has shown her, whispers into their ears, that

she will revenge herself for the disgrace he has brought upon her.

While the evening is setting in the citizens begin to wander out of

town to see the bonfires.

The burgomaster is obliged to walk away alone, after having vainly

tried to persuade his daughter to accompany him.

Diemuth steps into the house, and soon appears on the balcony, combing

her heir. Kunrad standing at his battered house-door renews his

protestations of love and begs her in passionate terms to let him in.

At first she refuses tartly but by and by she seems to relent, and

pointing to the large basket in which the wood had been let down to the

children she invites him to get into it and says that she will draw him

up.--Kunrad complies with her wish.

While she slowly winds the basket up her three companions peep round

the corner and perceive with delight, that Diemuth's trick is

successful, and that the bird is caught. The tercet of the maidens is

one of the loveliest pieces of music ever written.

Before the basket reaches the balcony, Diemuth pretends that her

strength is failing. At his entreaties she loosens and lets down her

long hair, but when he tries to grasp it she jerks it back with a cry

of pain and rates him harshly.--At last he perceives, that she has been

fooling him all the time. He is helplessly caught in the trap and the

returning citizens seeing him hanging between {436} heaven and earth

deride him, congratulating Diemuth on having caught such a fine bird.

Then Kunrad rises in a towering rage. Loudly invoking the help of his

friend and master, the mighty sorcerer, he suddenly plunges the whole

town into utter darkness. When the good citizens of Munich find

themselves deprived of fire and light, they break out into loud

lamentation; the frightened children wail and the head officials of the

town vow to hang Kunrad for his insolence and his witchcraft.

At this moment the moon shining through the clouds throws her light

upon Kunrad, who has swung himself on to the balcony, and smiling down

upon the people he pronounces a powerful oration upon their

narrowmindedness.

He reminds them, that the owner of his house, whom they drove out of

the town, Richard Wagner was one of the greatest masters the world had

ever seen and who would have brought them fame and greatness, if they

had not rejected him. He, Kunrad (Richard Strauss) claims to be his

successor, who is to carry on the great work nothing daunted, and in

spite of all the small minds of the world.

For his helpmate he has chosen Diemuth, but she too has failed to

understand, that love is higher than even virtue and morality, and for

this reason he has extinguished their lights and fire, to show them,

that all light comes, from love, and that without love the world is

dark and cold.

{437}

As soon as he has ended, Diemuth softly opens her door and draws Kunrad

in. The citizens, convinced by his burning words begin to praise him

and acknowledge his high courage and good words. Meanwhile the windows

of Diemuth's chamber begin to gleam faintly; Diemuth and Kunrad have

fulfilled the law of love and all at once, the flames of the bonfires

leap up and the windows and streets are again aglow with the light,

that is given back to the city.

HOFFMANN'S TALES.

A phantastic Opera in three acts by JULES BARBIER.

Music by JACQUES OFFENBACH.

In this opera the composer far surpasses all his other compositions.

It is his swan's song, for he composed it in the summer of 1880 and he

died in October of the same year after having given his best to the

world, a true work of genius, so full of grace, of delicate feeling and

of phantastic loveliness, that nobody can hear it without being

captivated by its sweetness.

The libretto is taken from three different tales of E. Th. A. Hoffmann,

who was not only an author and a poet, but a musician and composer

worthy of note.

His weird tales were much read in the beginning of the last century.

The first scene, a prologue, is laid in Luther's famous wine-cellar in

Nuremberg.

{438}

The hero of the opera, Hoffmann himself is there, drinking with a

number of gay young students, his friends. He is in a despondent mood

and when urged by his companions to tell them the reason of his

depression, he declares himself ready to relate the story of his three

love adventures, while his friends sit round a bowl of flaming strong

punch.

Now the scene changes and the curtain rises on the first act. We find

Hoffmann in Spalanzani's house. This man is a famous physiologist, and

Hoffmann has entered his house as his pupil in order to make the

acquaintance of the professor's beautiful daughter Olympia, whom he has

seen at a distance.

This daughter is nothing more than an automaton, that has been

manufactured by Spalanzani and his friend, the wizard Coppelius. This

doll can sing, dance and speak like a human being. Spalanzani hopes to

become rich by means of this clever work of art. As half of Olympia

(this is the doll's name), belongs to Coppelius, Spalanzani buys her

from him, paying him by a draft on the Jew Elias, though he knows him

to be bankrupt.--Hoffmann has been persuaded by Coppelius to purchase a

pair of spectacles, through which he looks at Olympia, and taking her

for a lovely living maiden falls violently in love with her.

Spalanzani now gives a grand entertainment, at which he presents his

daughter Olympia, (the Automaton), who surprises everybody by her {439}

loveliness and her fine singing.--Hoffmann is completely bewitched and

as soon as he finds himself alone with her, he makes her an ardent

declaration of love and is not at all discouraged by her sitting stock

still and only answering from time to time a dry little "ja, ja". At

last he tries to embrace her, but as soon as he touches her she rises

and trips away.

Hoffmann's friend Niklas finds him in the seventh heaven of rapture and

vainly endeavours to enlighten him as to the reason of the beauty's

stiffness and heartlessness.

When the dancing begins Hoffmann engages Olympia, and they dance on,

always faster and faster, until Hoffmann sinks down in a swoon, his

spectacles being broken by the fall. Olympia spins on alone as fast as

ever and presently dances out of the room, Cochenille vainly trying to

stop her. Coppelius now enters in a fury having found out that

Spalanzani's draft on Elias is worthless. He rushes to the room, into

which Olympia has vanished and when Hoffmann revives he hears a

frightful sound of breaking and smashing, and Spalanzani bursts in with

the news that Coppelius has broken his valuable automaton. Thus

Hoffmann learns that he has been in love with a senseless doll. The

guests, who now enter shout with laughter at his confusion, while

Spalanzani and Coppelius load each other with abuse.

The second act takes place in Giulietta's palace in Venice. Everything

breathes joy and love.--Both Niklas and Hoffmann are courting the

beautiful lady. {440} Niklas warns his friend against her, but

Hoffmann only laughs at the idea that he is likely to love a courtezan.

The latter is entirely in the hand of the wizard Dapertutto, who acts

towards Hoffmann as an evil spirit under three different names in each

of his three love affairs. Giulietta has already stolen for him the

shadow of her former lover Schlemihl; now Dapertutto wounds her vanity,

by telling her, that Hoffmann has spoken disdainfully of her, and makes

her promise to win the young man's love and by that means to make him

give her his reflection from a looking-glass.

She succeeds easily, and there ensues a charming love-duet, during

which they are surprised by the jealous Schlemihl. Giulietta tells

Hoffmann, that her former lover has the key of her apartments in his

pocket, she then departs leaving the two lovers and Dapertutto alone.

When Hoffmann peremptorily demands the key from Schlemihl the latter

refuses to give it up. The result is a duel, for which Dapertutto

offers Hoffmann his sword.--

After a few passes Schlemihl is killed and Dapertutto disappears. A

few moments afterwards Giulietta's gondola passes before the balcony

and Hoffmann sees her leaning on Dapertutto's arm, singing a mocking

farewell to the poor deserted lover.

The third act takes place in Rath Krespel's house. His daughter

Antonia has inherited her mother's gift of a beautiful voice, but alas,

also her tendency to consumption. The greatest joy of her {441} life

is singing, which however her father has forbidden, knowing this

exertion to be fatal to his darling.

She is engaged to be married to Hoffmann, but Krespel is averse to the

marriage, seeing in it another danger for his daughter's health, as

Hoffmann is musical and encourages Antonia to sing. Krespel has

forbidden his servant Franz to let anybody see Antonia, while he goes

out of the house, but Franz, who is very deaf, misunderstands his

master's orders and joyously welcomes his mistress's suitor. A

delicate love-scene follows, during which Antonia shows her lover, that

her voice is as fine as ever. When they hear Krespel returning Antonia

retires to her own room, but Hoffmann hides himself in an alcove,

determined to learn why Antonia is so closely hidden from the world.

Immediately after the father's return Doctor Mirakel enters; Krespel is

mortally afraid of this mysterious man, as he believes him to have

killed his wife by his drugs and that now he aims at his daughter's

life.

This Mirakel is a demon, who acts as in the two former instances as

Hoffmann's evil genius.--From the conversation of the two men Hoffmann

learns the secret of his bride's dangerous inheritance, and when

Mirakel has at last been driven out of the room, and Krespel has left

it too; the lovers both come back again. Hoffmann by earnest entreaty

succeeds in gaining Antonia's promise never to sing any more. But when

he has left Mirakel {442} returns and by invoking the spirit of her

mother he goads her on to break her promise. She begins to sing and he

urges her on, until she sinks back exhausted. It is thus that her

father and her lover find her, and after a few sweet words of farewell

she dies in their arms.

The Epilogue takes us back to Luther's cellar, where Hoffmann's

companions are still sitting over their punch, the steam of which forms

clouds over their heads, while they thank their poor, heart-broken

friend for his three stories with ringing cheers.

THE ALPINE KING AND THE MISANTHROPE.

Opera in three acts by LEO BLECH.

Text by RICHARD BATKA.

The young composer, who is already conductor of the orchestra of the

German Opera in Prague made his debut last year in a small one-act

opera, called "That was I"--, the music of which is pretty and shows

remarkable talent. There is however enormous progress to be observed

in "The Alpine King". Blech, although following in Wagner's footsteps,

has a style of his own. His modulations are bold, often daring; his

dissonances are frequent but they are fully compensated for by the most

charming folk-songs. He has the courage to introduce melodies freely,

in this respect he is one among a thousand. In his modern style of

orchestration too he shows {443} himself to be full of resource, while

more especially in those passages, where the spirit-world comes into

play, there is a display of tone-effects of great beauty, which are

perhaps too elaborate for the simple subject, but the Cottage scene,

and the simple Tirolean-songs of the peasants are all the more graceful

by contrast; one of the most charming songs in the Polka-air in f:

"Fair are Roses and Jessamine".

Batka, the writer of the libretto, has taken his subject from Raimund's

beautiful folk-story of the same name. He has done it with skill but

not without some weak passages.

The scene opens in a Tirolean mountain district. Marthe, Rappelkopf's

daughter, and her servant Lieschen, while making a nosegay of wild

flowers, are waiting for Marthe's lover Hans, a poor musician, who

after having been rejected by his sweetheart's father has absented

himself for some time, in order to make himself perfect in his art by

studying under the great masters in Italy. Lieschen is much afraid of

the Alpine King on whose ground they are sitting, and of whom the

legend says, that he turns young girls into old women, if they dare to

look at him. Marthe has more sense, she is sure that the lord of these

grand mountains must be good and just. While the girls are busy wilh

their garlands, Hans comes up the steep path and is joyously greeted by

his fiancée. He has become a man and is full of hope that he will now

be able to satisfy Herr Rappelkopf, but Marthe sadly tells {444} him,

how morbid and misanthropic her father has become, so that she does not

even dare to mention her lover's name. Suddenly a shot is heard and a

bird falls dead at their feet. Turning to look at the unwelcome

intruder they find themselves face to face with a strange old man; who,

when they ask him who he is, replies quickly: "I am the King of the

Alps". Dreadfully frightened Lieschen and Marthe look at each other in

consternation, but finding that their sweet young faces are unchanged,

they take courage, and kneeling before the majestic traveller they

implore his help and blessing, which the latter willingly promises.

The second scene takes place in Rappelkopf's house. Lieschen comes to

look for the man servant Habakuk, who is very much in love with her.

She treats him rather scornfully, being averse to his peculiar style of

love-making, and the French phrases with which he adorns his speeches

and which she does not understand. He takes the greatest pride in the

fact that he has lived for two years in Paris, and he continually

refers to that glorious time. Rappelkopf taking his servants by

surprise pours forth a volley of abuse upon them; he is interrupted by

the appearance of his daughter and Hans, whom he receives just as

badly. In vain his wife Sabine implores him to listen to reason; in

his wrath he abuses her too, so that she leaves him broken-hearted,

sighing, that she would rather see him dead than in such a state of

mind. Shortly after Habakuk comes forward with a kitchen-knife, {445}

with which he is going to cut chiccory in the garden. Rappelkopf no

sooner perceives the knife that his wits take leave of him altogether;

and he actually believes that Habakuk has been sent by his wife to

murder him. Making for one door he meets Hans and Marthe, turning to

another he sees Habakuk, and at last trying to escape by the garden

door his wife stops him, but he pushes her aside, and with frantic

vociferations he rushes away.

The second act opens in front of a cottage in the Alpine regions; Veit

the joiner is busy at his bench singing all the while and rejoicing in

the prospect of the coming Festival. His wife Katherine is busy

washing and his daughter is sitting at her wheel spinning and singing,

while his son is playing about merrily. At last the joiner throws down

his plane disregarding the remonstrances of his wife, who still goes on

with her washing and complains bitterly of her light hearted and lazy

family. Thus they are found by Rappelkopf, whose fancy is at once

struck by position of the solitary little cottage. He desires to buy

it and offers three hundred thalers for it on condition that he shall

enter in immediate possession. The astonished workman consents to this

bargain without more ado, too happy at this unexpected piece of good

luck to think of anything else. Rappelkopf gruffly orders the whole

family to pack off instantly. Father and children prepare to depart

laughing and singing, but Katherine takes leave of her humble home with

bitter tears.

{446}

When Rappelkopf finds himself alone he is quite delighted by the

complete solitude and grandeur of the surrounding mountains and

glaciers, but soon darkness comes over the scene and with it uneasiness

and fear take possession of the lonely man. At last he can stand the

loneliness no longer and on his cry for help, Astragalus the Alpine

King appears frightening him almost to death. Astragalus however

merely advises him to return to his family, whom he left in sorrow and

anxiety. But Rappelkopf's hatred of mankind knows no bounds; he

remains deaf to the good king's remonstrances. At last the latter

determines to make Rappelkopf see his behaviour in its true light. To

this end he promises to metamorphose the misanthrope into the exact

likeness of his own brother in law, in which form he is to return home

on the following morning in order to test the real feelings of his wife

and daughter.

Astragalus makes him swear that he will not persist in his obstinacy

should he find out his error, and Rappelkopf consents, making the king

promise in his turn to destroy all the inhabitants of the place, should

his hate for them be justified. Both take solemn oaths, after which

Astragalus touches Rappelkopf's forehead, making him fall asleep while

a sweet chorus of fairies lulls the unhappy man into sweet slumber.

The third act opens in Rappelkopf's house. Marthe and Lieschen are

waiting for the return of the neighbours who have gone in search of the

lost {447} father. Marthe is in great anxiety, she has almost ceased

to hope for the Alpine King's help. Suddenly the stage-coach arrives

bringing Sabine's brother, whom his sister had summoned in her despair.

It is Rappelkopf himself in the likeness of uncle Joseph. He is

greeted with enthusiasm, but remarking his wife's sad looks, he

observes that she ought to be glad to be rid of the maniac who has

treated her so badly. Sabine however stands up for her husband,

affirming that she loves him as much as ever, though a strange

alienation of mind has sadly changed him. Rappelkopf does not believe

her; he asks why she should suppose such a thing. Sabine relates the

scene with Habakuk, who, having been sent by her into the garden with a

kitchen-knife to cut some vegetables, was regarded as a murderer by her

insane husband, who had fled at once. This explanation moves

Rappelkopf deeply, and when Marthe begs him earnestly to assure her

father when he sees him of her deep filial love, and to speak in favour

of Hans without whom she cannot live, he kisses her tenderly and then

begs to be left alone for a short time. They all leave him, but almost

immediately afterwards Rappelkopf hears a great uproar, which Habakuk

explains by announcing the return of his master, who seems to be in a

more frantic state than ever.

Astragalus now enters transformed into the appearance of Rappelkopf.

He pushes Hans before him overwhelming him with a volley of abuse. The

real Rappelkopf, coming forward to greet his {448} brother-in-law, is

received no better. When Rappelkopf mentions Sabine, Astragalus speaks

of her exactly in the same way as Rappelkopf had formerly done, calling

her a murderess, a dragon etc.; in fact he behaves in such a manner

that Rappelkopf begins to be afraid of his own (Rappelkopf's) image.

Astragalus having shut himself up in his own room now rings violently;

both servants rush forward at his call, but neither of them dares to

enter the tyrant's apartment. Rappelkopf, already heartily ashamed of

himself now asks the servants what their opinion is about their master

and receives the instant reply, that he is a madman, of whom everybody

is afraid.--They confess their attachment to each other, and entreat

the supposed uncle Joseph to try to bring their master back to reason,

and to put in a good word for them about their wedding. The uncle

promises everything, and having got a knife from Habakuk he goes into

the garden to cut some roses for Sabine. Habakuk and his sweet-heart

are left alone and exchange a few words, but they timidly separate when

Astragalus enters. However he takes no notice of them, but looking out

of the window he perceives Rappelkopf, returning from the garden with

the knife and a bunch of roses. Rappelkopf no sooner sees his double,

than he tries to slink off unobserved, but Astragalus detains him and

pointing to the knife in his hand abuses him in the very language which

Rappelkopf had formerly used, calling him murderer, robber, monster

and--man.

{449}

The poor misanthrope screams for help and the whole family rushing in

Astragalus turns his wrath upon them, cursing them one and all. This

is too much for Rappelkopf. "Enough of the play" he cries, "I was a

madman and a sinner, not he, but I am Rappelkopf, and I freely confess

that my hatred towards mankind in general and especially against my own

dear family was as wicked as it was unfounded!" At these word a peal

of thunder is heard and the room becomes dark. When the light returns,

Astragalus has vanished and Rappelkopf stands before his family in his

own form. Deeply moved, he begs pardon of every one, he embraces his

faithful wife and daughter and unites the two pairs of lovers, Martha

and Hans--Lieschen and Habakuk.

MANON.

Opera in four acts by J. MASSENET.

Text by HENRY MEILHAC and PHILIPPE GILLE.

The subject of this opera is based on Prevost's famous novel "Manon

Lescaut". The libretto is much weaker than the story, but the music is

most graceful and charming, and quite makes up for the defects of the

text.

The scene is laid in France in 1721.

The first act takes place in the courtyard of a large inn at Amiens.

Several young cavaliers are amusing themselves by paying attentions to

three pretty ladies. They {450} impatiently call upon their host to

bring dinner, and at last it is brought to them in great state.

While they are dining in the large saloon above, the stage-coach

arrives with a great number of travellers; amongst them is young Manon,

a country girl of sixteen; this is her first journey which alas is to

end in a convent, an arrangement made by her parents who think her

taste for worldly pleasures is greater than it should be. She is

expected by her cousin Lescaut, a Garde du Corps, and while he is

looking for her luggage, the young beauty is accosted by

Guillot-Marfontaine, an old roué, and rich farmer, who annoys her with

his equivocal speeches, and offers her a seat in his carriage. He is

quickly driven away by Lescaut on his return; the young man is however

enticed away by his comrades to play a game of cards, for which purpose

he leaves his cousin a second time. Before long another cavalier

approaches Manon; this time it is the Chevalier de Grieux, a young

nobleman, whose good looks and charming manners please the young girl

much better. They quickly fall in love with each other, and when de

Grieux offers to take her to Paris Manon gladly consents, thankful to

escape the convent. Remembering Guillot's offer she proposes to make

use of the farmer's carriage, and they drive gaily off, just before

Lescaut returns to look for his cousin. When this worthy soldier hears

that the fugitives have gone off in Guillot's carriage, he abuses the

farmer with great fury and swears, that {451} he will not rest, until

he shall have found his little cousin.

The second act takes place in a poorly furnished apartment in Paris.

De Grieux is about to write to his father, whom he hopes to reconcile

to his purpose of marrying Manon, by telling him of the girl's beauty,

of her youth and innocence. They are interrupted by the entrance of

Lescaut, who, accompanied by de Bretigny, another victim of Manon's

charms, comes to avenge the honour of the family. While Grieux takes

Lescaut aside and pacifies him by showing him the letter he has just

written, de Bretigny tells Manon, that her lover will be kidnapped this

very evening by his father's orders. Manon protests warmly against

this act of tyranny, but de Bretigny warns her that her interference

would only bring greater harm to both of them, while riches, honours

and liberty will be hers, if she lets things take their course.

Manon who on the one hand sincerely loves de Grieux while on the other

hand she has a longing for all the good things of this world, is very

unhappy but allows herself to be tempted. When de Grieux leaves her to

post his letter she takes a most tender farewell of the little table at

which they have so often sat, of the one glass from which they both

drank, and of all the objects around. De Grieux finding her in tears,

tries to console her by picturing the future of his dreams, a little

cottage in the wood, where they are to {452} live for ever happy and

contented. A loud knock interrupts them, Manon, knowing what will

happen tries to detain him, but he tears himself from her and opening

the door is at once seized and carried off.

The third act opens on the promenade Cour-la-Reine in Paris, a scene of

merry making where all the buying, selling and amusements of a great

fair are going on.

The pretty ladies of the first act, Yavotte, Poussette and Rosette are

being entertained by new lovers, while rich old Guillot looks in vain

for a sweetheart.

Manon, who appears on de Brétigny's arm, is the queen of the festival.

She has stifled the pangs of conscience which had troubled her when she

left de Grieux, and her passion of jewels and riches is as insatiable

as ever. Guillot, who hears that de Brétigny has refused to comply

with her last wish, which is to order the ballet of the grand opera to

dance in the open market-place for her own amusement, rushes off to pay

for this whim himself, hoping thereby to gain the young lady's favour.

Manon slowly wanders about in search of new and pretty things to buy,

while Brétigny suddenly finds himself face to face with the old count

de Grieux. When he asks for news of his son, the count tells him, that

the young man has renounced the world and become an Abbé and is a

famous preacher at Saint Sulpice. He cuts de Brétigny's {453}

expressions of astonishment short by telling him, that this turn of

things is due to de Brétigny's own conduct, meaning that the latter had

done a bad turn to his friend by crossing his path in relation to a

certain pretty young lady. De Brétigny indicating his lady-love by a

gesture says: "That is Manon", and the count, perceiving her beauty

quite understands his son's infatuation.

But Manon's quick ears have also caught bits of the conversation and

beckoning to her lover she sends him away to buy a golden bracelet for

her. She then approaches the count and asks him, if his son has quite

overcome his passion for the lady whom she says was a friend of hers.

The old man acknowledges, that his son had had a hard struggle with his

love and grief but adds "one must try and forget" and Manon repeats the

words and falls into a fit of sad musing.

Meanwhile Guillot has succeeded in bringing the ballet-dancers who

perform a beautiful gavotte and other dances. When these are ended he

turns to Manon in hope of a word of praise, but the wilful beauty only

turns from him to order her carriage, which is to take her to Saint

Sulpice, saying lightly to Guillot that she has not cared to look at

the ballet after all.

The next scene takes place in the parlour of the seminary in Saint

Sulpice. A crowd of ladies has assembled to praise the new Abbé's fine

preaching. They at last disperse, when the young Abbé enters with

downcast eyes. He {454} is warmly greeted by his father, who has

followed him. The father at first tries to persuade him to give up his

newly chosen vocation before he finally takes the vows, but seeing him

determined, the Count hands him over his mother's inheritage of 30,000

Lires [Transcriber's note: Livres?] and then bids him good-bye. The

young man retires to find strength and forgetfulness in prayer.

When he returns to the parlour he finds Manon. She has also prayed

fervently, that God would pardon her and help her to win back her

lover's heart. A passionate scene ensues, in which Manon implores his

forgiveness and is at last successful, De Grieux opens his arms to her

and abandons his vocation.

The fourth act opens in the luxurious drawing-rooms of a great Paris

Hotel. Games of hazard and lively conversation are going on

everywhere. Manon arriving with de Grieux is joyously greeted by her

old friends. She coaxes her lover to try his luck at play and is

seconded by her cousin Lescaut, himself an inveterate gambler, who

intimates that fortune always favours a beginner. Guillot offers to

play with de Grieux, and truly fortune favours him. After a few turns,

in which Guillot loses heavily, the latter rises accusing his partner

of false play.

The Chevalier full of wrath is about to strike him, but the others hold

him back and Guillot escapes, vowing vengeance. He soon returns with

the police headed by the old Count de Grieux, to {455} whom he

denounces young de Grieux as a gambler and a cheat and points out Manon

as his accomplice. Old Count de Grieux allows his son to be arrested,

telling him he will soon be released. Poor Manon is seized by the

guards, though all the spectators, touched by her youth and beauty beg

for her release. The old Count says she only gets her deserts.

The last scene takes place on the highroad leading to Havre. Cousin

Lescaut meets de Grieux whom he had promised to try to save Manon from

penal servitude by effecting her escape. Unfortunately the soldiers he

employed had meanly deserted him, on hearing which de Grieux violently

upbraids him. Lescaut pacifies the desperate nobleman by saying that

he has thought of other means of rescuing Manon. Soon the waggons

conveying the convicts to their destination are heard approaching. One

of these waggons stops. Lescaut, accosting one of the soldiers in

charge hears that Manon is inside, dying. He begs that he may be

allowed to take a last farewell of his little cousin, and bribing the

man with money he succeeds in getting Manon out of the waggon,

promising to bring her to the nearest village in due time.

Manon sadly changed totters forward and finds herself clasped in her

lover's arms. For a little while the two forget all their woes in the

joy of being together; Manon deeply repents of her sins and follies and

humbly craves his pardon, while {456} he covers her wan face with

kisses. Then he tries to raise her, imploring her to fly with him, but

alas release has come too late, she sinks back and expires in her

lover's embrace.

ODYSSEUS' DEATH.

Fourth Part of the Odyssey in three acts by AUGUST BUNGERT.

This last part of the Tetralogy bears more decided indications of

Wagner's influence than the others do; and though strikingly beautiful

in many ways it fails to excite quite the same interest as the others,

because it reminds us too much of the Nibelungen Ring, especially of

Siegfried; nevertheless it deserves attention as the conclusion of the

whole series and also on account of Bungert's adopting a later version

of the story of Odysseus, whom Bungert does not suffer to die

peacefully in his old age, but makes him fight as a hero to the very

last.

The prelude opens in Kirke's gardens. The nymphs of the spring are

singing to her, while her son Telegonos, a youth of 15 is playing with

a lion. Kirke has often spoken to her son of his glorious father, whom

he never saw and now his curiosity is awakened, and he asks his mother,

why his father never comes home to her. Kirke now thinks that the time

is come when she should reveal the story of her love to her son. He

hears that his father is no god, but a human hero who after a short

time of bliss remembered his earthly wife {457} Penelopeia, and

returned to her, leaving the goddess alone and broken

hearted.--Telegonos determines to go forth in search of the hero of

Troy and hopes to bring him back to his mother's arms. Kirke presents

him with the golden cup, from which Odysseus once drank the magic

draught of forgetfulness; she hopes to remind him thereby of their past

bliss and thus to win him back.

The first act takes place in Thesprotia. Odysseus has just returned

from a victory over the friends and relations of the insolent suitors

he had slain on his return home; he has conquered their country and is

now greeted with acclamations of joy by his warriors. Despoina, queen

of Thesprotia, and once Penelope's attendant has been made prisoner and

is to be put to death, but Telemachos, Odysseus' son fascinated by her

beauty, intercedes for her. Odysseus resolves to let the oracle of

Dodona decide her fate and Despoina is led back to the tent, but

manages on the way to whisper to Telemachos, that she will expect him

during the night.

Left alone, she intoxicates the guard by means of a sleeping-draught,

and so Telemachos enters the tent unobserved. At first she beguiles

him with a great show of tenderness. When he asks her from whence she

comes, she tells him, that she never knew father nor mother, but that

her nurse revealed to her that she is the daughter of Poseidon and of

Persephone. After her nurse's death she became a priestess in

Poseidon's temple, where she had seen Hyperion, with whom she had

fallen in love, and {458} whom she had followed to Ithaka. There her

lover having fallen under the spell of Penelope's beauty like all the

others, and having met with an untimely death, Despoina had sworn

vengeance on the whole house of Odysseus and to this end had married

the barbarian king of Thesprotia. At this Telemachos turns

shudderingly away from this mysterious woman and she makes use of the

opportunity to take up his sword, with which she secretly and swiftly

stabs the guard, sleeping heavily outside the tent. Then she tries

again to gain ascendency over Telemachos, by assuring him of her love,

but though full of pity for the unhappy and beautiful woman he turns

from her and flies. A short time afterwards Odysseus enters to visit

his captive, she also tries her arts on him but in vain, Odysseus

hearing the shouts of his soldiers, leaves her, and all set out for

Dodona.

The next scene shows the grove of Dodona with Jupiter's temple, bearing

the inscription: Know thyself.

The priests sacrifice to the god singing: "Zeus (Jupiter) is, Zeus was,

Zeus will be." Odysseus brings costly offerings and the three

Peleiades appear, warning Odysseus not to slay Despoina, as vengeance

belongs to Zeus alone but in vain Odysseus insists that she must die.

Then the prophetesses grow wilder in their threats and the priests in

dark words predict to Odysseus an untimely death through his own son;

the sky becomes dark, the sacred spring bubbles and steams. Odysseus

goaded to madness by Telemachos' entreaties for the life {459} of

Despoina the worst foe of his house, draws his sword upon his son. The

latter throws away his weapons and offers his bare breast to his

beloved father's stroke while the priests cry: "Woe to thee Odysseus!"

Then the unhappy father coming to his senses seizes Despoina and drags

her away, while the water quakes from the earth and the Peleiades tear

their hair in wild despair.--

The prelude to the second act takes place in the grotto of the nymphs

at Ithaka, where Telegonos has landed with his companions after a hard

fight with the inhabitants of the island. Resting beside a spring he

sees the reflection of his own image in it, and he begins to dream

about his father and to long for his mother. This song, and the whole

scene, with the water fairies emerging from the waves to look at the

young hero remind very much of the scene between Siegfried and the

Rhine-daughters.--The curtain falls and the first scene of the second

act opens with the triumphant return of Odysseus to his palace.

He has conquered all his enemies and is joyously greeted by his people.

Eumaeos however meets him with the bad news that during his master's

absence a new enemy had appeared and had ravaged the country.--

Odysseus vows that he will drive the enemy off. He turns lovingly to

his faithful Queen and assures her that he will now lay down the sword

for the spade and will labour to insure peace and happiness to all

those countries that are now his own. He {460} is however not without

forebodings of evil remembering the prophesy: "When once thou

exchangest the sword for the spade, then will the close of thy day be

near."

Despoina's entrance interrupts this happy meeting. The she-devil dares

to attack even Penelope's virtue, she goads Odysseus to fury, so that

he is about to stab her. But when she tears open her dress, mockingly

presenting her bosom to his sword, he turns from her ordering the

guards to take her away and to put her to death on the following

morning.

The next scene again shows Telegonos sleeping. Despoina awakes him.

She has escaped from prison and, disguised as a young warrior has

hastened hither to warn Telegonos. He receives her warnings with

laughter for fear is unknown to him. When he calls his lions she

faints with fright. Trying to revive her he opens her coat of mail and

takes off her helmet and thus perceives that she is a woman. At this

discovery his heart is suddenly inflamed with love for Despoina who is

also madly in love with Telegonos. A passionnate love scene follows,

ending by Telegonos telling her, that he is searching for his father

Odysseus. She offers to show him the way, and armed with a sword she

places herself with Telegonos at the head of his soldiers.--

In the third act Odysseus appears alone, stunned and terrified by his

enemy's striking resemblance to Kirke. Wearied to death he lies down

{461} on a mossy bank and falls asleep. In his dream the three Fates

appear before him; they have woven the web of his life which is

approaching its end; Klotho lowers the distaff, Lachesis breaks the

thread and the balance in Atropos' hand sinks. Odysseus awakening

finds himself face to face with Telemachos, who once more throws

himself in his father's arms, having thrown down his sword, and proving

his love and faith in every way. Odysseus, at last persuaded of his

affection returns his embrace. Hearing that Despoina is leading the

enemy to battle he bids Telemachos to take her captive alive or dead,

on which the son hastens away at once. Odysseus about to join his

warriors is hindered by Telegonos, who attacks him. The unhappy father

only defends himself feebly, quite unable to slay the radiant young

hero. Suddenly the news reaches him, that the enemy headed by Despoina

is gaining ground. Telegonos hearing her shouts is about to join her

when Odysseus bars his way with those words: "Dos't know with whom thou

fightest? I am Odysseus."--Alas, Telegonos cannot believe that this

old and evidently decrepit man should be the famous hero; he reviles

him, pressing him hard. When his companions' shouts of victory reach

his ears he throws down his lance, and attacks Odysseus with his

sword.--This is observed by Despoina, who has come up unobserved and

picking up Telegonos' lance she with it stabs Odysseus in the back.

The hero falls, and Telegonos full of joy is about to embrace Despoina,

when she pushes him {462} back and pointing to the dying man says:

"There lies thy father! Odysseus behold thy son!" Telegonos staggers

back but as he is forced to recognize the awful truth he rushes upon

the murderess with his drawn sword. Despoina however is too quick for

him and stabs herself with her own dagger.--

In deep sorrow Telegonos kneels beside his father who embraces him

tenderly. Thus they are found by Penelope and Telemachos. Only now

does Odysseus confess the truth about his love for Kirke to his

faithful wife, whom he had wanted to save from pain by withholding the

knowledge of his infidelity. After a touching farewell Odysseus joins

the hands of the two brothers and blessing his family and his people he

dies erect, like the hero he has always been.

TOSCA.

Musical Drama in three acts by V. SARDOU, L. ILLICA and G. GIACOSA.

Music by GIACOMO PUCCINI.

The libretto of this opera is adapted from Sardou's tragedy of the same

name; it possesses all the exquisite stage effects of which this writer

is capable. It is based on fact; these most tragic events having

actually taken place in Rome in 1800 at the time of the battle of

Marengo.

The music far surpasses the libretto, although {463} the latter handles

the dreadful facts with as much delicacy as possible.

Puccini may fairly be called the most gifted among Italian composers.

In Tosca especially he has shown the ennobling influence of music over

an otherwise repulsive theme. The lovely melodies inspire us with a

warm interest in all the persons of the play, with the exception of

Scarpia, that living incarnation of evil and corruption. The leading

melodies that introduce Scarpia are almost brutal in their tone; the

three intervals of B flat, A flat and E which accompany Scarpia from

the beginning through the whole drama sound hard and inexorable like

fate, and form a striking contrast to the songs of the two lovers,

whose duet in the third act is one of the sweetest things ever written.

The scene is laid in Rome. The first act takes place in the church of

Sant' Andrea della Valle. Cesare Angelotti a state-prisoner has

escaped from gaol and is hiding in a private chapel of which his

sister, the Lady Attavanti, has secretly sent him the key.

When he has disappeared from view the painter Cavaradossi enters the

church. He is engaged in painting a picture to represent Mary

Magdalen; the canvass stands on a high easel and the sacristan, who is

prowling about, recognizes with scandalized amazement and indignation

that the sacred picture resembles a beautiful lady, who comes to pray

daily in the church. The old man, after having {464} left a basket

with food for the painter, retires grumbling at this sacrilege.

When he is gone Angelotti comes forward, and the painter recognizing in

the prisoner the Consul of the late Roman Republic who is at the same

time an intimate friend of his own, puts himself at his disposal, but

hearing the voice of his fiancée Tosca, who demands entrance he begs

the prisoner, a victim of the vile Scarpia, to retire into the chapel,

giving him the refreshments, which the sacristan has left.

At last he opens the church-door, and Tosca, a famous singer enters

looking suspiciously around her, for she is of a jealous disposition.

She begs her lover to wait for her at the stage door in the evening.

He assents and tries to get rid of her, when her suspicions are

reawakened by the sight of the picture, which she sees is a portrait of

the Lady Attavanti. With difficulty he succeeds in persuading her of

his undying love and at last induces her to depart; he then enters the

chapel, and urges Angelotti to fly, while the way is clear. The chapel

opens into a deserted garden from whence a foot-path leads to the

painter's villa, in which there is a well now nearly dry. Into this

well the painter advises Angelotti to descend if there is any danger of

pursuit, as half way down there is an opening leading to a secret cave

where his friend will be in perfect safety.

The Lady Attavanti had left a woman's clothes for her brother, to wear

as a disguise. He takes {465} them up and turns to go, when the report

of a cannon tells him that his flight from the fortress is discovered.

With sudden resolution Cavaradossi decides to accompany the fugitive,

to help him to escape from his terrible enemy.

In the next scene acolytes, scholars and singers enter the church

tumultuously. They have heard that Napoleon has been defeated and all

are shouting and laughing, when Scarpia, the chief of the Police enters

in search of the fugitive. Turning to the sacristan he demands to be

shown the chapel of the Attavanti, which to the amazement of the

sacristan is found open. It is empty, but Scarpia finds a fan, on

which he perceives the arms of the Attavanti, then he sees the picture

and hears that Tosca's lover, Cavaradossi has painted it. The basket

with food is also found, empty. During the discussion that ensues,

Tosca enters, much astonished to find Scarpia here instead of her

lover. The chief of the police awakens her jealousy by showing her the

fan, which he pretends to have found on the scaffolding. Tosca,

recognizing the arms of the Attavanti is goaded almost to madness by

the wily Scarpia. When she departs three spies are ordered to follow

her.

The second act takes place in Scarpia's luxurious apartments in an

upper story of the Farnese palace.

Scarpia is expecting Tosca, who is to sing this evening at the Queen's

festival. He has decided to take her for his Mistress, and to put her

lover {466} to death as well as Angelotti, as soon as he has got hold

of both. Spoletta, a police-agent informs his chief, that he followed

Tosca to a solitary villa which she left again, alone, very soon after

she had entered it.

Forcing his way into the villa he had only found the painter

Cavaradossi whom he had at once arrested and brought to the palace.

Cavaradossi who is now brought in, denies resolutely any knowledge of

the escaped prisoner. When Tosca enters he embraces her, whispering

into her ear not to betray anything she had witnessed in his villa.

Meanwhile Scarpia has called for Roberts, the executioner, and Mario is

led into the torture chamber that adjoins Scarpia's apartment. Scarpia

vainly questions Tosca about her visit to the villa; she assures him,

that she found her lover alone. Then she hears her lover's groans,

which are growing more fearful, the torture under Scarpia's directions

being applied with more and more violence. In the intervals Mario

however entreats Tosca to be silent, but at last she can bear no more,

and gasps "In the well, in the garden." Scarpia at once gives a signal

to stop the torture and Mario is carried in fainting and covered with

blood. When he comes to himself he hears Scarpia say to Spoletta "In

the well, in the garden," and thereby finds out that Tosca has betrayed

the unfortunate prisoner. While he turns from her in bitter grief and

indignation, Sciarrone enters and announces in {467} the greatest

consternation, that the news of victory have proved false, Napoleon

having beaten the Italian army at Marengo. Mario exults in the defeat

of his enemy, but the latter turns to him with an evil smile and orders

the gendarmes to take him away to his death. Tosca tries to follow

him, but Scarpia detains her. Remaining alone with him, she offers him

all her treasures and at last kneels to him imploring him to save her

lover. But the villain only shows her the scaffold which is being

erected on the square below, swearing that he will only save her lover

if she will be his. Tosca turns shuddering from him. Spoletta now

enters to announce that Angelotti being found and taken has killed

himself; and that Mario is ready for death.

Now at last Tosca yields, Scarpia promising to liberate her lover at

the price of her honour. He suggests however that Mario must be

supposed dead, and that a farce must be acted, in which the prisoner is

to pretend to fall dead while only blank cartridges will be used for

firing. Tosca begs to be allowed to warn him herself and Scarpia

consents and orders Spoletta to accompany her to the prison at 4

o'clock in the morning, after having given the spy private instructions

to have Mario really shot after all. Spoletta retires and Scarpia

approaches Tosca to claim his reward. But she stops him, asking for a

safe conduct for herself and her lover. While Scarpia is writing it

Tosca seizes a knife from the table while leaning against it and hides

the weapon behind her back. Scarpia {468} seals the passport, then

opening his arms he says: "Now Tosca, mine at last." But he staggers

back with an awful scream; Tosca has suddenly plunged the knife deep

into his breast. Before he can call for help, death overtakes him, and

Tosca after having taken the passport from the clenched fist of the

dead man turns to fly.

The third act takes place on the platform of the castle Sant' Angelo.

The gaoler informs Mario Cavaradossi that he may ask for a last favour

having only one hour to live and the captive begs to be allowed to send

a last letter of farewell to his fiancée. The gaoler assents, and

Mario sits down to write, but soon the sweet recollections of the past

overcome him. Tosca finds him in bitter tears, which soon give way to

joy, when she shows him her passport, granting a free pass to Tosca and

to the Chevalier who will accompany her.

When she tells him of the deadly deed she has done to procure it, he

kisses the hands that were stained with blood for his sake. Then she

informs him of the farce, which is to be acted, and begs him to fall

quite naturally after the first shot, and to remain motionless until

she shall call him. After a while the gaoler reminds them that the

hour is over. The soldiers march up and Tosca places herself to the

left of the guard's room, in order to face her lover. The latter

refuses to have his eyes bandaged, and bravely stands erect before the

soldiers. The officer lowers his sword, a report {469} follows and

Tosca seeing her lover fall sends him a kiss. When one of the

sergeants is about to give the "coup de grace" to the fallen man

Spoletta prevents him, and covers Mario with a cloak. Tosca remains

quiet until the last soldier has descended the steps of the staircase,

then she runs to her lover, calling to him, to rise. As he does not

move, she bends down to him and tears the cloak off, but with a

terrible cry she staggers back. Her lover is dead! She bewails him in

the wildest grief, when suddenly she hears the voice of Sciarrone, and

knows that Scarpia's murder has been discovered. A crowd rushes up the

stairs with Spoletta at their head; the latter is about to precipitate

himself upon Tosca, but she runs to the parapet and throws herself into

space, with the cry: "Scarpia, may God judge between us!"

BARFUSSELE (LITTLE BARE FOOT).

Opera in two Pictures with a Prelude by RICHARD HEUBERGER.

Words by VICTOR LÉON from AUERBACH'S Story.

The young composer's opera is a musical village-story, simple and well

adapted to the pretty subject.

Heuberger's talent is of the graceful style; he is not very original

but his waltzes and "Ländlers" have the true Viennese ring, and the

kirmess in the first act is very characteristic; it is melodious and

{470} full of healthy humour. The airs often recall popular songs.

The story is simple. Its scene is laid in Haldenbrunn, a village in

the Black Forest.

Amrei and Dami, sister and brother, coming home from their distant

school find the door of their father's cottage locked. Accustomed to

the frequent absence of their parents they sit down under the

mountain-ash to wait for their return. A crowd of school-children

following them provoke Amrei by calling her "Barfüssele", because she

never wears shoes; her little brother tries to defend his sister, but

in vain. At last the "Landfriedbäurin", a rich farmer's wife comes to

his help and drives the tormenting brats away.

She has come to attend the funeral of the two children's parents, who

both died on the same day, and seeing that the orphans do not yet know

of their bereavement she is at a loss, how to make them understand.--At

last she takes off her garnet-necklace, and hangs it round Amrei's

neck, promising Dami a pair of good leather breeches.

When she sees Marann and Mr. Krappenzacher approaching, she upbraids

them for having left the poor children in ignorance of their sad loss,

on which old Marann, taking the orphans in her arms, explains to them,

that they will never see their parents again on earth. The poor

children cry bitterly and bid a heartrending farewell to their little

home. Thus ends the Prelude.

{471}

The first act takes place twelve years later.

Amrei has entered the service of the rich Rodelbauer. She still goes

bare-footed, but she is the life of the inn, and everybody requires her

services.--It is St. Paul's day and the farmer's wife promises Amrei

that she may join in the dancing like the other girls. While Amrei

goes into the house to adorn herself for the festival, Dami comes to

take leave of his sister. Dami is in love with the Rodelbauer's

handsome sister Rosel, and having no hopes of winning her, he is about

to enter the military service.--Amrei, who has returned, is much

grieved at his resolution and leaves him to fetch his bundle of

clothes.--Rosel now enters in her best attire. She loves Dami, and

though she never means to marry the poor servant lad, she allows him to

kiss and embrace her. Amrei coming back and seeing this is very much

shocked and now urges him herself to leave the village at once.

In the next scene the Landfriedbäurin arrives from the Allgäu with her

son Johannes.--Amrei recognizes the good woman who gave her the

garnet-necklace twelve years ago and both are very much pleased to see

each other again. The rich peasant has come to consult Krappenzacher,

known as the best matchmaker in the country, and she promises him a

large fee, if he succeeds in finding a suitable bride for Johannes.

The latter is quite willing to marry, provided he finds a girl that

pleases him and his mother gives him sound advice about the qualities

that should be found in a good wife. {472} First she must never cut a

knot but untie it, she must be content to take the second part in a

duet and so on.

In the next scene the Rodelbäurin and Rosel come out ready for church.

Amrei has to keep house, but she is perfectly happy in the prospect of

a dance.

Meanwhile Krappenzacher tells the Rodelbauer that he has found a

splendid suitor for his sister Rosel, and the rich peasant promises him

a hundred crowns, if the match comes off.--They then stroll towards the

church and Amrei appears in her national Sunday costume and with new

shoes. She sits down on the bench, meditating sadly about the poor

chance she will have of a partner and hardly noticing Johannes who

rides by and accosts her.

A few minutes later the villagers come in a procession from church

headed by the band and the dancing begins.

Amrei sits alone neglected; nobody comes to dance with her; the

peasants threw all their wraps, kerchiefs etc. to the poor girl, who

soon looks like a clothes-stand.

Suddenly Johannes comes up. Perceiving the lonely maiden, he carries

her off to dance with him.

When the village bells ring for Vespers the dancing stops, and

Johannes, sitting down at a table treats his partner to a glass of

wine. He is greatly pleased with her, but when she tells him, that she

is only a servant he becomes thoughtful. {473} At last he bids her

farewell with a kiss and departs without having looked at any of the

other girls.

The second act takes place a year later. The scene is laid in the

Rodelbauer's court-yard. Johannes has come once more to the village

with his parents, who press him to make up his mind and to choose a

wife at last. Krappenzacher, in whose house they live promises to let

him see the right bride, and goes to prepare Rosel for the coming of

the rich suitor. He advises her to take off her finery and to appear

as a practical and capable peasant girl, and Rosel promises to comply

with his wishes.

A little later Amrei arrives with her brother Dami. He is decorated

with the iron cross, but he wears his arm in a sling. His sister has

brought him home from the battle field in order to nurse him; she has

caught cold herself, so that her whole face is bound up in a woolen

shawl. Rosel, reappearing in a simple working-dress greets her old

lover, but Dami speaks very bitterly, when he hears that she is to

marry a rich peasant, and he leaves her in scorn and wrath, while Rosel

goes to the stable to milk the cows.

Johannes, coming into the court-yard finds only Amrei, who is sweetly

singing the second part to Rosel's song, heard from the stable. Amrei

recognizes him at once, but he does not recognize his fair partner in

the simple servant, whose face is disfigured by the bandage. Desirous

to know something about the girl he is to wed, he asks {474} Amrei, if

she leads a hard life in the house and if Rosel is good to her. She

answers in the affirmative, and so he lets himself be led to the stable

by the old Rodelbauer under the pretext of inspecting a white horse,

but in reality to look at the girl. Meanwhile Rosel comes out tired of

her unaccustomed work.

She wavers between her desire to get a rich husband and her love for

Dami. The appearance of Amrei, who comes out of the house in her

Sunday dress excites her wrath. Notwithstanding Amrei's resistance she

wrenches the garnet-necklace from her throat and beats her. The girl's

screams bring out all the neighbours including Johannes, who, pulling

Rosel back from the weeping girl, recognizes his partner of the year

before.

Forgetting everything but his love, which has only grown deeper in the

interval, he strains her to his heart.

The Rodelbauer turning to his sister is about to beat her, but Dami

intervenes and Rosel, quite ashamed of herself turns to her true lover

and begs his pardon.

Johannes leads his sweet-heart into the adjoining garden, where they

wait for the arrival of the parents.