Amrei has a difficult task in winning Johannes' father, whose pride

will not permit him to welcome a daughter in law without a dower, but

the mother, who was always fond of the daughter of her old friend,

secretly offers her a sum of money she has saved for herself; Johannes

does the same. At last her perfect goodness and sweetness soften the

old peasant's heart and all ends in peace and happiness.

{475}

LA BOHÈME.

Adapted from HENRY MURGER'S VIE DE BOHÈME.

Music by GIACOMO PUCCINI.

This opera was composed in 1896, and the music is of a far higher order

than that of "La Tosca", particularly the love scenes.--

La Bohème grows on one more and more, the oftener one hears it; but

such bits as Musette's waltz, the quartet and the love duet in the last

act cannot fail to appeal to everybody. The composer has given a most

realistic subject a highly poetic setting.

The first act opens in a garret in Paris, in about 1830, and shows us

Rudolph the painter and Marcel the poet, from whose Bohemian mode of

life the opera derives its name, at work. Alas, there is no fire in

the grate and the cold is so intense, that Marcel is about to break up

a chair for firewood.--

Rudolph prevents him and kindles a fire with his manuscript instead,

crying: "My drama shall warm us". The second act of the manuscript

follows the first one, by the blaze of which the artists joyfully warm

their half frozen hands. The paper is quickly burnt to ashes, but

before they {476} have time to lament this fact the door is opened by

two boys bringing food, fuel, wine and even money. Schaunard, a

musician brings up the rear to whom neither Marcel nor Rudolph pay the

least attention.

It seems, that an Englishman engaged Schaunard to sing to his parrot

till it dies, but after three days Schaunard becomes so heartily sick

of his task, that he poisons the bird and runs away.

He suggests that they all go out for supper it being Christmas Eve.

They decide to drink some of the wine first, but they are interrupted

by the landlord, who demands his quarter's rent. He soon imbibes so

much of the wine, that he becomes intoxicated and correspondingly

jovial.--After joking him about his love adventures he finds himself

standing outside the door in pitch darkness. The others meanwhile

prepare to go out to supper, with the exception of Rudolph who remains

behind to finish a manuscript article.

A pretty young girl soon knocks, carrying a candle and a key. He begs

her to come in and be seated and she swoons while refusing. He revives

her with some wine, and she goes off with her relighted candlestick,

but forgets her key, which she has dropped in her swoon, and for which

she at once comes back. A draught blows out the candle and Rudolph

keeps the key, while pretending to look for it.--Suddenly he clasps the

girl's hand and he and she exchange confidences, while confessing their

love for each other.

{477}

When Rudolph's friends call him he invites Mimi, who is a flower girl,

to accompany him.

The second act takes place before the well known Café Momus in the

Quartier Latin, where Rudolph and Mimi join Schaunard and Marcel.

Rudolph has bought her a pink bonnet and introduces her to his friends,

the fourth of whom is Colline the Philosopher.

The party eat and drink amid the noise and bustle of the fair, when

Marcel suddenly sees his old love Musette, gorgeously arrayed and

leaning upon the arm of an old man. Marcel turns pale, while his

friends make fun of the fantastic couple, much to Musette's anger. She

at once begins to make overtures to Marcel, who feigns utter

indifference.--Musette's old admirer orders supper, in the hope of

pacifying her, while she addresses Marcel in fond whispers. The others

watch the scene with amusement, but Rudolph devotes all his attentions

to Mimi. Musette suddenly complains, that her shoes hurt her and sends

her aged lover off for another pair. Then she proceeds to make friends

with Marcel. When the waiter brings the bill, Musette tells him, that

the old gentleman will settle for everything after his return.

The party profits by the approach of the patrol, who causes a turmoil,

in the midst of which they all escape. Alcindor the old admirer finds

only two bills awaiting him, when he returns with the new shoes.

Musette has been carried away shoeless by her old friend.

{478}

The third scene takes place on the outskirts of Paris called "Barrière

de l'Enfer", (The Toll Gate of Hell). To the left there is a tavern,

over which hangs Marcel's picture "The Crossing of the Red Sea", as a

sign board. The day is breaking, the customhouse officials are still

sleeping around the fire, but the scavengers coming from Chantilly soon

awake them.

The gate is opened to admit milk-women, carters, peasants with baskets

and finally Mimi.

She looks wretched and is at once seized with a terrible fit of

coughing. As soon as she can speak, she asks the name of the tavern,

where she knows Marcel is working. When he emerges from the inn she

implores his help, saying Rudolph is killing her by his insane

jealousy. Marcel promises to intervene, and when Rudolph comes out of

the tavern Mimi hides behind the trees.

She hears Rudolph say, she is doomed to die, and coughs and sobs so

violently, that her presence is revealed.

Rudolph remorsefully takes the poor weak creature in his arms, and they

decide to make it up.

Their reconciliation is interrupted by Marcel, who is upbraiding

Musette. This flighty damsel has one lover after another, although she

really loves Marcel alone.

The fourth and last scene takes us back to the garret, where Marcel and

Rudolph are alone, Musette and Mimi having left them. They each kiss

mementos of their lady-loves when Schaunard appears with {479} bread

and herring. Gayety is soon restored and a regular frolic takes place.

Musette enters in a state of great agitation, to say, that Mimi, who is

in the last stage of consumption is there and wants to see Rudolph once

more. The latter carries her on the little bed. As there is nothing

in the house, with which to revive her, Musette decides to sell her

earrings in order to procure medicines, a doctor and and a muff, for

which Mimi longs.

Schaunard also goes out, so that the lovers are left alone.--A touching

scene follows, when Rudolph shows Mimi the pink bonnet he has cherished

all the time. Musette and Marcel soon return with medicines and a

muff, upon which Mimi sinks into the sleep from which there is no

awakening with a sweet smile of satisfaction.

THE FLEDERMAUS (THE BAT).

A Comic Operetta in three Acts by MEILHAC and HALÉVY.

Music by JOHANN STRAUSS.

The Fledermaus is the famous Viennese Waltz King's best operetta. The

charming music is so well known, that only the libretto needs to be

explained, because of its rather complicated plot.

A serenade which is listened to by Adele Rosalind Eisenstein's maid,

but is intended for her mistress, begins the first act. Adele has just

received an invitation from her sister Ida to a grand entertainment to

be given by a Russian prince, {480} Orlofsky by name. She is longing

to accept it, and attempts to get leave of absence for the evening from

her mistress, when the latter enters, by telling her that an aunt if

hers is ill, and wishes to see her. Rosalind, however, refuses to let

Adele go out, and the maid disappears pouting. While Rosalind is

alone, her former singing master and admirer Alfred, suddenly turns up.

He it was who had been serenading her, and Rosalind, succumbing to her

old weakness for tenors, promises to let Alfred return later, when her

husband is not at home. Herr Eisenstein, a banker, has just been

sentenced to five days' imprisonment, a misfortune which his hot temper

has brought upon him. The sentence has been prolonged to eight days

through the stupidity of his lawyer, Dr. Blind, who follows Eisenstein

on to the stage. The banker finally turns Dr. Blind out of the house,

after upbraiding him violently.--Rosalind tries to console Eisenstein,

and finally decides to see what a good supper will do towards soothing

his ruffled spirits. While she is thus occupied Eisenstein's friend

Dr. Falck appears, bringing his unlucky friend an invitation to an

elegant soirée which Prince Orlofsky is about to give.--Eisenstein is

quite ready to enjoy himself before going to prison, and when Rosalind

reenters, she finds her husband in excellent spirits. He does not,

however partake of the delicious supper she sets before him, with any

great zest. But he takes a tender, although almost joyful leave of his

wife, after donning his best dress suit. Rosalind then {481} gives

Adele leave to go out, much to the maid's surprise. After Adele has

gone, Alfred again puts in an appearance. Rosalind only wishes to hear

him sing again, and is both shocked and frightened, when Alfred goes

into Herr Eisenstein's dressing room, and, returns clad in the banker's

dressing gown and cap. The tenor then proceeds to partake of what is

left of the supper, and makes himself altogether at home. But a sudden

ring at the door announces the arrival of Franck, the governor of the

prison, who has come with a cab to fetch Eisenstein. Rosalind is so

terrified at being found tête à tête with Alfred, that she introduces

him as her husband. After a tender farewell, Alfred good-naturedly

follows the governor to prison.

The second act opens in the garden of a cafe, where the guests of

Prince Orlofsky are assembled. Adele enters, dressed in her mistress's

best gown, and looking very smart. Eisenstein, who is also present, at

once recognizes her, as well as his wife's finery. But Adele and the

whole party pretend to be very indignant at his mistaking a fine lady

for a maid. Prince Orlofsky proceeds to make Eisenstein most

uncomfortable, by telling him that Dr. Falck has promised to afford him

great amusement, by playing some practical joke at Eisenstein's

expense. The last guest who enters is Rosalind, whom nobody

recognizes, because she is masked. Dr. Falck introduces her as a

Hungarian countess who has consented to be present at the soirée only

on condition that her incognito be respected. {482} She catches just a

glimpse of Eisenstein, who is flirting violently with Adele instead of

being in prison, and determines to punish him. Noticing the

magnificent attire and fine form of the supposed countess, Eisenstein

at once devotes himself to the new comer. He even counts her heart

beats with the aid of a watch which he keeps for that purpose, without,

however, giving it away as he always promises to do. But Rosalind

suddenly takes possession of the watch, and slips away with it.--The

whole party finally assembles at supper, where Eisenstein becomes very

jovial, and tells how he once attended a masquerade ball with his

friend Falck, who was disguised as a bat. Eisenstein, it appears,

induced his friend to drink so heavily, that he fell asleep in the

street, where Eisenstein left him. Falck did not wake up till morning,

when he had to go home amid the jeers of a street crowd, by whom he was

nicknamed "Dr. Fledermaus".--Eisenstein's story creates much amusement,

but Dr. Falck only smiles, saying, he who laughs last, laughs best.

After a champagne supper and some dancing, Eisenstein remembers, when

the clock strikes six, that he ought to be in prison. Both he and Dr.

Franck take a merry leave of the boisterous party.

The third act begins with Franck's return to his own room, where he is

received by the jailer.--Frosch has taken advantage of his master's

absence to get drunk, while Franck himself has likewise {483} become

somewhat intoxicated. He grows drowsy while recalling the incidents of

Prince Orlofsky's fête, and finally falls fast asleep.--

Adele and her sister Ida interrupt his slumbers, in order to ask the

supposed marquis to use his influence in the former's behalf. Adele

confesses that she is in reality a lady's maid, but tries to convince

Franck, the supposed marquis, and her sister (who is a ballet dancer),

of her talents by showing them what she can do in that line.--A loud

ring soon puts an end to the performance While the jailer conducts

Adele and Ida to No. 13, Eisenstein arrives and gives himself up.

Franck and he are much surprised to find themselves face to face with

each other in prison, after each had been led to suppose the other a

marquis, at the fête. They are naturally much amused to learn each

other's identity. Meanwhile Dr. Blind enters, to undertake the defense

of the impostor Eisenstein. He turns out to be the genuine Eisenstein,

who again turns Blind out of door, and possesses himself of his cap and

gown and of his spectacles, in which he interviews his double.--Alfred

has been brought in from his cell, when Rosalind also enters, carrying

her husband's watch, and prepared for revenge. Both Alfred and she

alternately state their grievances to the supposed lawyer, who quite

loses his temper, when he learns of Alfred's tête à tête with his wife,

and how completely she has fooled him. Throwing off his disguise, he

reveals his identity, only to be reviled by his wife {484} for his

treachery. He in turn vows to revenge himself on Rosalind and on her

admirer, but the entrance of Dr. Falck, followed by all the guests who

were at Prince Orlofsky's fête, clears up matters for all concerned.

While making fun of the discomfited Eisenstein, he explains that the

whole thing is a huge practical joke of his invention which he has

played on Eisenstein in return for the trick Eisenstein played on him

years ago, which he related at the fête. All the guests had been

bidden to the fête by Dr. Falck with the consent of the prince in order

to deceive Eisenstein. The latter, when convinced of his wife's

innocence, embraces her. All toast one another in champagne, which

they declare to be the King of Wines.

FLAUTO SOLO.

An Opera in one Act by EUGÈNE D'ALBERT. Libretto by HANS VON WOLZOGEN.

D'Albert's new attempt at an opera secured an even greater success than

his "Departure", which is still constantly given at the Dresden Opera.

"Flauto Solo" had a brilliant first night performance in Dresden in

August 1906, both because of the unusually charming music, which is a

masterly imitation of the compositions in vogue during the Roccocco

period, and also for its remarkably clever libretto. The latter

required no little ingenuity, since it is a medley of no less than

three languages.

{485}

The fact, that Flauto Solo contains a plot, which is founded on

history, renders it doubly attractive. Anyone acquainted with German

history at the time of Frederic the Great will not fail to recognize

him and his testy father under the assumed names of the young prince

and the reigning head of the house.

The opera is at the same time an amusing parody of the two great

schools of music of the age, that is, of German and Italian musical art.

Füst Eberhard, the reigning prince and his son, Prince Ferdinand are

perpetually disagreeing, not only because of their radically opposite

dispositions, but because the parent is a champion of German music,

while his son is absolutely devoted to everything Italian.

The two prime favourites at court are two musicians, a German named

Pepusch, and an Italian, Maëstro Emanuele, who take turns at conducting

the court orchestra. Naturally there is constant rivalry between these

two, particularly since Pepusch composed the so-called "Schweine Canon"

(hog-canon), for the gratification of Prince Eberhard. Taken literally

this song of the Hogs is a quartette, which skilfully reproduces the

various forms of grunting characteristic of these animals. To reward

Pepusch for his composition, Eberhard wishes him to become his wayward

son's tutor instead of Maëstro Emanuele. The latter encourages the

young prince in his fondness for all things foreign and his violent

dislike of everything German.

{486}

At the beginning of the opera, Prince Eberhard laments over his son's

fondness for the flute to Pepusch, till an orderly abruptly summons him

to take command of the troops.--

Before going he shouts to Pepusch, that if Prince Ferdinand fails to

appreciate the "hog-canon", he had at least better make the "cannon"

his instrument instead of the flute.

Left to himself Pepusch goes into the concert pavilion, and picks up

his music.--Peppina, a famous primadonna, makes her appearance without

perceiving the German conductor. Soon she begins to sing and is quite

terrified, when Pepusch joins in. A lengthy conversation ensues and

Peppina is not long in expressing her contempt for the song of the

hogs.--When Pepusch confesses himself to be the composer thereof, she

lapses into the Tyrolese dialect of her childhood. Both she and

Pepusch declare their allegiance to the German and Italian schools of

music, but nevertheless they are highly pleased with each other.

Suddenly the sounds of a flute are heard, which cause Pepusch to run

away and Maëstro Emanuele to run forward, warning Peppina, that the

young Prince is close at hand. The Italian is filled with jealousy,

when he hears of the primadonna's meeting with Pepusch and begins to

make violent love to her.--

She makes fun of him and finally Prince Ferdinand puts an end to the

scene. He plays several quick runs on his flute, and addresses himself

chiefly {487} in the French tongue, for which he has a weakness, to his

favourite Emanuele.

Peppina has concealed herself behind some trees. Prince Ferdinand

relates how he has received orders from his father to inspect the

regiment, but that he made Pepusch take his place. A few minutes later

Pepusch turns up and admits, that he has not carried out Prince

Ferdinand's command.

The young Prince then confides to Pepusch, that he has made

arrangements for a grand fête which is to take place that same evening,

to which he has invited a large and select company. All this Pepusch

knows already from Peppina. But when the Prince invites him to take

part with a performance of his "hog-canon", he is beside himself,

knowing well that Emanuele insinuated this idea to the Prince, simply

to expose him to ridicule. The Prince however insists, and when he

goes away, Peppina comes out of her hiding place and shares Pepusch's

despair.

Vainly Pepusch tries to find some new musical motive, to enhance his

quartette's effect, when suddenly Peppina begins to sing.

Involuntarily he grunts an accompaniment. All at once he starts and

exclaims "Ah, now I have it". After embracing Peppina he hurries away.

The primadonna gets up too, but runs right into old Prince Eberhard,

who calls out "What! A woman in my royal domains! Who is it?!"

Peppina, unintimidated replies: "I am a Tyrolese singer and who are

you?" When the prince tells her who he is she retorts: "Nonsense,

{488} Prince Eberhard is away at the manoeuvres." When she has charmed

the old prince sufficiently by her marvellous trills and scales she

tells him, that although she has all Italy and France at her feet she

cares most of all for the good opinion of Prince Ferdinand, young

though he is.

Prince Eberhard is half pleased, half angry, and complains, that there

is never praise for any one save his son. Drawing forth a note, he

shows her, that he is informed of the evening festival, which is to

take place in his absence. Hearing this, Peppina informs him of the

plot, which has been meditated against poor Pepusch, and intimates,

that the whole thing is owned to the false Italian Maëstro, who wants

to make the German composer a laughing stock for the foreign guests,

who are expected not only to hear the famous flute playing of Prince

Ferdinand, but especially herself, the famous Primadonna. She is to be

engaged for the Vienna opera by a Viennese count, coming expressly on

her account. Hearing all this, Prince Eberhard first flies into a

passion, but soon he calms himself and tells Peppina to be without fear

for Pepusch's future, as he, Eberhard, will not fail to be present at

the soirée.

When Pepusch appears, he finds the two executing a droll dance

together. Peppina seizes the prince's hand and tells him that she and

Pepusch are in love with one another. All three vow, that they will

give the audience a surprise at the fête, Pepusch saying his will be

the "Flauto Solo".

{489}

Preparations for the festival are carried on with the aid of all kinds

of decorations during which Pepusch is busily employed finishing his

new composition.--Prince Ferdinand arrives followed by his suite,

receiving his guests gracefully. After having presented Pepusch he

commands him to conduct his chef d'oeuvre. Pepusch, taking out a score

of music, announces, that a young pig was born during the night,

necessitating a Solo flute. He hands the Prince the melody, intimating

that the great Maëstro Emanuele should play it. Much to Emanuele's

disgust, Prince Ferdinand takes Pepusch's part in the quarrel, which

the Italian attempts to bring about.

Suddenly the old Prince arrives and orders his son to perform Pepusch's

new melody on the flute. Prince Ferdinand unwillingly obeys, and plays

the solo part so splendidly, that the audience breaks out into endless

applause.

Prince Ferdinand cordially begs Pepusch's pardon for his injustice and

calls his new composition a real master piece. Pepusch is however

honest enough to admit, that the melody, which he first heard Peppina

sing, was originally Emanuele's idea, upon which the guests cheer both

conductors.

Prince Eberhard, on the other hand, praises his son's skill on the

flute most highly and admits, that Prince Ferdinand will as a ruler in

all probability become as great a virtuoso, as he has proved himself a

great artist.--

Pepusch and Emanuele call for Peppina, the great Italian

primadonna.--She appears on the steps {490} wrapped in a long cloak,

but when she throws it off, she shows herself in her native Tyrolese

costume; she sings in dialect, and goes through all her charming native

songs and "Jodls", to the delight of all her hearers. Prince Eberhard

promises to grant any wish of Peppina's, while Prince Ferdinand does

the same with Pepusch.--

Finally Prince Ferdinand joins Peppina's and Pepusch's hands, while the

old Prince announces that the two shall henceforth play "Flauti due" by

being married, and appointed musicians of his court for the rest of

their lives.--

MOLOCH.

A musical tragedy in three Acts. Music by MAX SCHILLINGS.

Libretto by EMIL GERHAEUSER, founded on HEBBEL'S fragment "MOLOCH".

The first representation of this opera took place on December 8th 1906

in the Dresden Royal Opera.

It is the production of a highly esteemed German composer, who, though

independant in his musical invention follows in Wagner's steps.

Two operas "Ingwelde" and the "Pfeiffertag" have already made him a

name amongst modern composers; his last, "Moloch" is however the best

in orchestration and invention.

The Moloch music, if somewhat heavy and loud, is altogether noble and

interesting. The first Act is steeped in gloom, the second is more

{491} fascinating and especially the choral accompaniment to the

quartette is as striking as it is beautiful.

But the culminating point is reached in the last Act, where we find

passages of extreme beauty.

The scene is laid on the island of Thule (otherwise Germany, perhaps

Ruegen), at the time after the destruction of Carthage.

In the first Act Hiram, a Carthaginian priest emerges from a cave,

where he has found a refuge. He has brought Carthage's famous idol

Moloch to Thule, with the intention of subjecting the inhabitants to

its power, in which he himself no more believes since the downfall of

his native city.

The inhabitants of Thule do not as yet worship any particular god, and

Hiram hopes to gain enough ascendancy over them, to use them as a means

of revenge against Carthage's great enemy Rome.

When the people of Thule catch sight of the fearful idol, they are

frightened, and Hiram intensifies their terror by taking advantage of

natural causes. A terrific thunderstorm comes on and the lightning

striking the hollow brass figure, sets light to the wood inside and

makes the figure become red hot.

The King's son Teut is one of Hiram's first converts. Moloch, he says,

has appeared to him in his dreams, and in spite of the remonstrances of

Wolf, his father's friend, in spite of Theoda's and his mother's tears,

he worships at Moloch's feet together with the majority of his

followers.

Velleda, his mother, a somewhat mystic personage, who foresees every

misfortune, {492} prophetically sees her son in the fearful monster's

jaws; she veils herself shuddering and withdraws into the woods.

Theoda, who loves Teut hopelessly tries all her simple wiles and

allurements on him in vain. When Hiram sacrifices a pair of doves and

a ram to the idol, the people all join in his exulting cry of "Moloch

is King, he is Lord over all", with which grand and impressive chorus

the first Act closes.

The second Act takes place near the sacred yew of the Thuleans. Wolf

meets Theoda, and tells her, that Teut is alienating the people with

the new religion, and that he must be slain. Theoda opposes him, but

he turns from her, and goes to summon the old King to pronounce

judgment.

Meanwhile Hiram approaches the yew, accompanied by the labourers, who

are returning from their work. He has taught them to plough the

ground, to sow, to till the soil, and now he deems it time to fell the

old tree, which they have hitherto held sacred, and under the branches

of which the King is wont to pronounce judgment.

Hiram is about to lay the axe to its roots, when the King appears.

Seeing his son bearing a foreign sword, he bids him lay it down at his

feet. But Teut declares, that he has received the sword for the

protection of Moloch, and audaciously summons his father to dedicate

his own ancestral weapon to the new god.

{493}

Hiram joins him in this demand, and rouses the anger of the King, who

would have stabbed the priest but for Teut, who throws himself between

the two. Then the outraged monarch turns his sword against his son,

whose sense of duty however hinders him from attacking his father,

before whom he bends his knee. Yet he only meets with scorn and

sneers, and stung by these he seizes his sword. Theoda now intervenes,

and Teut throws down his weapon. The King does likewise, and both

begin to wrestle. Teut overcomes his father, who, overpowered either

by the shock or by shame, becomes unconscious. When Teut perceives

what he has done, he is struck with sorrow, but seizing the royal sword

he hands it to Hiram, to be taken to Moloch.

When the King comes to his senses, he is so humiliated by his defeat,

that he begs his son to kill him. Teut refuses to do so, and the King,

cursing his son, turns away, to bury his grief in the wilderness.

Theoda follows him into exile, while Teut joins in the solemn

procession to Moloch's temple.

Hiram is triumphant; but suddenly cries of woe are heard. Teut's

mother, in despair at her son's apostasy, has precipitated herself from

the rocks into the sea, and filled her son's heart with bitter sorrow

and pangs of remorse.

Hiram however succeeds once more in recalling him to his allegiance to

Moloch by telling him sternly, that all human feelings must be

sacrificed to the god.

{494}

When the people return, he orders them to cut down the sacred yew, the

timber of which is to be used for building the first ships known in

Thule, and that are destined for the war against the Romans.--

The third Act takes place some months later. A bountiful harvest has

been gathered in. With a charming chorus and dance the reapers

celebrate their first harvest festival.

Hiram's power has grown immensely; he has fostered the people's

superstitious dread by forbidding them to approach the temple of Moloch

at night, as death would be the inevitable fate of any mortal, wo

should dare to be present at Hiram's nightly converse with the god.

Hiram hails the reapers and after having sacrificed corn and bread to

the idol, he describes to his breathless hearers all the wonders of

Italy. They decide to sail on the following morning,--the ships lying

ready at anchor,--to conquer the greatest city of the world.

After they have left Wolf appears with some warriors. Their time of

revenge is near; Wolf delivers the King's shoulder belt to one of the

soldiers and orders him to rouse the country with the cry "Thule is in

danger", and to summon all the King's loyal subjects against Hiram and

Teut the apostate.

Night sets in and the priests of Moloch march forth from the temple,

warning everybody away from its door.--

{495}

Teut keeping guard sits before it in deep thought. Suddenly he hears a

well known voice. A roe appears and springs into the grove of the

temple followed by Theoda, who with her spear leaps lightly over the

wall.

For a moment Teut stands spell bound, but remembering the awful warning

he darts after her.

When Theoda emerges from the grove alone, she suddenly recognizes the

fatal place. Seeing Teut she implores him to save her from death. In

his first mad impulse he is about to stab both himself and her, but his

love restrains him and in their mutual embrace they forget death and

fear. When they awake from their trance and find themselves still

alive and unharmed, Teut in a flash realizes Hiram's falseness and the

hollowness of his religion.

He awakens Hiram, the ever sleepless, who, distraught at the prospect

of losing all he has schemed and worked for hurls himself from the

cliffs into the sea.

In the mean time Wolf and his companions have set fire to the ships.

The priests come out in the dawning morning and are horror struck to

hear, that Hiram is dead. The priests' chant to Moloch is drowned by

the wild cry of the people.

All now turn against Teut, and Wolf, unaware of his sudden conversion,

stabs him in the side.

Thus Theoda finds her lover. She comes, adorned with red berries and

garlands, bringing the {496} old King, who sees in bitter grief that

his son is the victim of the creator of a new world of beauty and

fertility, which he sees around him. Theoda bends down to her lover,

who dies in her arms, while the King orders to destroy Moloch.

SALOME.

An Opera in one act and Libretto by RICHARD STRAUSS founded on OSCAR

WILDE'S drama.

On December 9th, 1905, this opera was performed for the first time in

Dresden.

Its success was immense, and can only be compared with that achieved at

Bayreuth in 1876 by the first performance of the Nibelungen Ring.

The well-nigh perfect interpretation of this highly emotional opera

proved to be the most difficult composition ever before attempted at

the Dresden Opera House.

Salome is the emanation of a genius; for the music is as weird and

passionate as the libretto, and moreover perfectly in keeping with its

plot. It would be difficult to do justice to it, for in order to

appreciate its complicated grandeur, one must have heard it performed.

It combines sublimity with asceticism and wickedness, in a most

marvellous manner.

Oscar Wilde, the unhappy poet, has produced a wonderful piece of

literature in his treatment of {497} the brutal facts connected with

Salome's dance and Jokanaan's decapitation.

According to the Biblical tale, Salome is simply the tool of her mother

Herodias, at whose instigation she demands Jokanaan's head.

In Wilde's drama, as well as in Strauss' opera, Salome is a distinct

personality, full of passion, whose instincts are in revolt against her

vicious surroundings, and whose heart goes out in fiery love to the

only man who comes up to her standard of what manhood should be--namely

Jokanaan. When he repulses her, the passionate girl's love turns to

blind and unreasoning hatred.

In the first scene Herod's soldiers are talking of the holy prophet

Jokanaan, whose voice is heard from the well where he is kept captive

by the Tetrarch of Galilee, Herod. Salome, hearing Jokanaan's strong,

deep voice, is seized with a wild longing to behold the prophet, and

she therefore declines her step-father's invitation to join in the

festival. The soldiers, not daring to disobey Herod, obstinately

refuse to grant Salome's request in regard to Jokanaan, so she turns to

a young Syrian, Narraboth by name, who is devoted to her, and who,

falling a victim to her charms, finally gives orders to lead forth the

prophet.

When Jokanaan steps out of his prison, Salome looks spellbound at the

stern and powerful face. Not heeding her, the prophet calls for Herod

and his spouse, whom he vehemently reproaches for their sins.

{498}

Salome goes up to him, but he turns from he with lofty contempt.

Vainly she uses all her wiles in an attempt to bewitch him; he sternly

reproves her, and cursing her as the unfortunate daughter of a vicious

mother, he returns to his dungeon.

Meanwhile Narraboth, seeing that his love for Salome is vain, and that

she has only eyes for the prophet, stabs himself.

When Herod appears on the terrace with his wife, to look for his

step-daughter, he sees the young Syrian dead on the ground. He asks

the reason of his death, but receives no satisfactory answer. However,

he guesses the truth, seeing Salome sitting apart, absorbed in gloomy

thoughts. Herod is more in love with his step-daughter than with his

wife, whose first husband he killed, and this excites Herodias'

jealousy.

As a rule, Herod avoids the terrace, being afraid of Jokanaan's

prophecies, in which he secretly believes. But now he desires Salome's

presence to divert him, while she is in no mood to oblige him, and

coldly refuses to eat and drink with him.

Then the prophet's voice is heard saying: "Lo! the time has come, the

day which I prophesied has dawned." Herodias bids him be silent, but

Herod is all the more impressed by the voice he fears. The Jews, who

have been clamouring for six months for the prophet, again beg to have

him delivered into their hands. When Jokanaan proclaims the Saviour of

the world, the soldiers believe that he {499} means the Roman Caesar,

with the exception of a Nazarene who knows that he refers to the

Messiah, who is accomplishing miracles and awakening the dead.

In order to drown his fears, Herod begs Salome to dance for him. He

promises her all his finest jewels, his white peacocks, and even half

his kingdom, but she nevertheless still refuses to dance for him. Her

mother entreats her not to dance, when suddenly Salome changes her

mind. After having made the Tetrarch swear by his own life to grant

her wish, whatever it might be, she is ready to comply with his wish.

Veils are brought, and Salome performs the dance of the Seven Veils, at

the end of which she sinks down at Herod's feet.

"Tell me what you want, Queen of Beauty", says Herod. "I will grant

you whatever you desire". "I want nothing more or less than Jokanaan's

head on a silver dish", rejoins Salome, rising, with a cold smile.

While Herodias eagerly seconds this awful wish, Herod shrinks back in

horror, but although he offers Salome every thing else which could

please her, she only repeats her first wish.

At last Herod gives in, and drawing a ring from his finger, which gives

the death-signal, he hands it to a soldier, who passes it on to the

executioner, and the latter goes down into the dungeon.

A death-like silence ensues, during which Salome vainly listens for a

sound or a cry from the dungeon into which she is peering. Finally she

can bear {500} the suspense no longer. Shrieking wildly she clamours

for Jokanaan's head, and the executioner stretches forth a huge, black

arm, holding a silver shield, with Jokanaan's head upon it.

While Herod covers his face, Salome seizes Jokanaan's head, and

devouring its beauty with her eyes, she utters rapturous exclamations,

and at last passionately kisses the lips she has so ardently coveted.

Herod, horrified by this monstrous spectacle, orders the torches to be

put out, and turns to leave the dreadful place. When Salome exultingly

cries, "I have kissed thy mouth, Jokanaan!", Herod turns, and seeing

her, calls out loudly; "Kill this woman!" The soldiers rush forward,

crushing the princess beneath their shields.

DIE SCHÖNEN VON FOGARAS.

(THE BEAUTIES OF FOGARAS.)

Comic Opera in three acts by ALFRED GRÜNFELD.

Words by VICTOR LÉON, founded on the Hungarian novel of MIKSZATH,

"Szehistye, the village without Men".

This opera was first performed in Dresden on September 7th, 1907.

Victor Léon's great talent to amuse his public shows itself as clearly

here as it did in "Barfüssele". The libretto is a lively picture of

the time of the Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus.

Grünfeld's music is not deep, but delightfully fresh and naïve. He is

master in the instrumentation of miniature art. His vivid rythms

display a grace, {501} an "entrain" and a piquancy, which remind one of

Delibes and Massenet, without being imitations of these great masters.

The dances are perfectly original, full of life and fire, and the

ballet in the second act is in itself a masterpiece, that will hold its

own.

Besides this there are a roguish song by a goose-girl, a very pretty

valse rondo, and last but not least many fine Hungarian songs.

The scene is laid in Transylvania in the year 1459.

The first act takes place in the Transylvanian village of Fogaras.

A long war has deprived the village of all its men, and the women of

Fogaras are wildly lamenting their absence.

They have charged the governor ("Gespann") Paul Rosto to petition the

King, to restore their husbands, and when the young schoolmaster,

Augustin Paradiser, the only man in the village besides Rosto appears

on the scene, they bitterly complain to him of the governor's

dilatoriousness.

Augustin tries to appease them, by assuring them, that the petition was

duly sent, and soon Rosto himself comes to his assistance by presenting

them with the King's answer to their appeal.

His Majesty graciously agrees to the right of the women of Fogaras to

claim their respective husbands, fathers and sons, the King having only

borrowed them for a time.

But as unfortunately most of them were slain in battle or taken

captive, he is unable to return {502} them all, and therefore he

declares himself ready to supply other men in their stead.

To this end it seems necessary to him, to see some of the Fogaras

beauties, and therefore he decrees, that the town is to send him three

specimen of the handsomest amongst them, a black haired, a brown haired

and a fair haired beauty.

Should the women not be willing to comply with the King's command, they

should be severely punished for having troubled his Majesty about

nothing.

The women of Fogaras being all the reverse of pretty the governor finds

himself in an awkward dilemma.

Fortunately for him the Countess Magdalen Honey has just returned home

with her maid Marjunka.

The latter is at once surrounded by her old companions, and begins to

tell them of their travels and adventures.--She relates how being at

Buda ("Ofen") two years ago during the great coronation festival, King

Matthias only danced with the Countess, and even kissed her before the

whole assembly, and that Marjunka herself had also found a sweetheart

in a first-rate violinist, and that everything had seemed to be turning

out for the best, when they were suddenly summoned home to the old

Countess's death-bed.

When, the year of mourning being passed, they returned to Buda, they

found the doors of the Kingly palace closed to them; and now they {503}

have come home to their native village full of grief and sorrow.

Rosto, after having greeted the Countess, tells her of his difficulties

about the three beautiful women, whom he cannot find; but the Countess

smilingly points to her jet black hair and then to the pretty brunette

Marjunka; and offers to drive with him to castle Varpalota, where the

King resides.

Rosto is considerably relieved, as there is only the fair haired beauty

still to be found.

At this moment the goose-girl Verona passes with her geese.

She is the sweetheart of the schoolmaster, who now comes to meet her,

after having had a rehearsal with the school children for the reception

of Countess Magdalen.

Their charming love duet is interrupted by Rosto.--While the Countess

is greeted by the singing children, Rosto no sooner perceives the

flaxen haired Verona, than he rushes up to her crying: "I have her,

thank God!--the fairest of the fair!"

Augustin interposes, but when Magdalen promises, not only to take care

of the young maiden, but also to give the sweethearts a cottage, two

pigs, a cow and some geese after their return from Varpalota, he is

satisfied, and offers himself a coachman for the journey and they all

drive away in high glee.--

The second act takes place at the King's hunting palace Varpalota. A

band of Bohemian musicians is playing to the people assembled, and

{504} their leader ("Primas") Czobor plays an exquisite solo to the

royal cook Mujko, a most important person at court.

King Matthias tries to kill the time with all kinds of tricks and

frolics,--he vainly strives to forget the sweet lady he saw but once,

and whom he has sought for two years in vain.

He is on the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, before which date he is

either to choose a bride or to lose his crown.

When the Paladin comes up to remind him of the fact, the King answers:

"Give me Magdalena Honey and I will marry her at once!" But the

Paladin, who wants him to marry his niece Ilona Orszagh answers, that

the Countess could not be found anywhere.

Meanwhile General Hunyadi sends a number of prisoners to the King, and

the women of Fogaras being announced at the same time, Matthias orders

all to be brought before him.

The wild idea has come into his head of turning his cook into the King,

while he himself is to play the part of the cook.

The change is soon effected and a ludicrous scene ensues; the big cook

appearing in comic majesty before his subjects. Then the whole court

groups around the mock King, to receive the women of Fogaras, who drive

up, clad in the rich costume of the Szekle peasants.

Mujko, the sham King, expresses his perfect satisfaction with the three

beauties and begins to {505} flirt with them. Magdalen, perceiving at

once that they are being deceived, recognises the true King in the

disguise of the cook, while he is haunted by a dim recollection,

without being able to recognise the Countess in her disguise.

The scene ends with a charming ballet.--

In the third act Augustin has a stormy interview with Verona, whom he

saw with a jealous eye flirting with the pretended cook.

Magdalen, who has also perceived Verona's wiles and graces, believes

herself to be forgotten by the King, but Marjunka advises her, to

revive his memory by a song, which he once composed for his lady love.

Meanwhile Augustin, goaded to fury by his provoking little bride,

threatens to denounce the cook's love making to the King, and when he

finds himself alone with the man, whom he takes for the cook, he tells

him, that the King is being deceived, for the three beauties do not

come from Fogaras.

On hearing this, the King decides to punish them for their

treachery.--The prisoners being brought into the courtyard he tells

Mujko to choose every tenth man of them as husbands for the three

beauties of Fogaras.

Mujko announcing their fate to the ladies frightens them to death, the

prisoners presenting a most repulsive aspect of misery and neglect.

The lot of the brunette is the first cast, but Czobor, the Bohemian

leader intervenes, having recognised in Marjunka the girl he saw and

loved two years ago.

{506}

After a sign from the King Mujko consents to give the brunette to

Czobor.

Then comes Verona's turn and Augustin claims her as his already

affianced bride.

The black haired lady being the last one left, Mujko begins to count,

when Magdalen slowly approaches the King, singing softly: "Take my

life, take my all, I will greet thee as my lady, thou, a King's

Consort."

Now the King recognises at last his lost lady love. Pushing back

Verona, whom Mujko has presented to him he cries: "I choose the black

haired one!" and throwing off his disguise he embraces Magdalen.--

The bells of the royal chapel now begin to ring, and the priests

receive and bless the three happy bridal couples.

As they leave the chapel they are met by the Paladin, ready to marry

his niece to the King.

But Matthias, seizing Magdalen's hand, proclaims her his Consort, and

all hail her as Hungary's Queen.

TIEFLAND.

(THE LOWLANDS.)

A musical Drama in two acts and a Prelude by EUGÈNE D'ALBERT.

Text after A. Guivera by RUDOLPH LOTHAR.

With this work the gifted composer has gained a footing, which promises

to be permanent in the musical world, for the opera has been accepted

by {507} all the leading theatres in Germany and Austria, and its

performances in Berlin, in Prague, in Dresden and in Vienna have found

uniform appreciation.

D'Albert's strongest point is his orchestration, which is admirably

adapted to the text. His music, if lacking a personal note is always

noble, harmonious and perfectly clear and agreeable to the ear.

The Prelude is on the whole the finest part of the drama. The broad

flowing motive of the shepherd's pipe is the incarnation of peace and

pure nature, the musical transition from the Prelude to act I is one,

of the best things, that D'Albert ever did, and the peasant scenes, the

trio of the three mocking village lasses are of the most enlivening

freshness.

The text is ultra realistic, almost brutal.

The name "Tiefland" has a double meaning; this we learn from the

Prelude.--

The plot is laid in the Pyrenees. Pedro, the shepherd lives alone in

the high and clear mountain air. His one wish is to have a companion,

a wife. This desire is realised by the arrival of Sebastiano, supposed

to be a wealthy landowner, who offers Pedro a mill and a bride in the

person of Marta.

The girl is Sebastiano's mistress, but financial difficulties compel

him to get rid of her, in order to avoid scandal and to obtain a rich

bride.

The simple and unsuspecting Pedro accepts the unexpected gifts with

delight, not heeding Marta's reluctance, and so he leaves the clear

physical and moral atmosphere of the mountains and descends {508} into

"Tiefland", the low valley with its human passions and human tragedies.

The first act takes place in the mill, where three village girls gossip

about Marta's wedding, which is to take place on the very same day.

Nuri, a little girl and Marta's friend, has heard from Tommaso, an

octogenarian, that their rich and mighty master Sebastiano has found a

husband for Marta, and that the latter, being the master's property

like everything else around, has to obey his orders.

Marta herself is in despair; she despises Pedro, her future husband,

suspecting him to have been bribed to consent to this shameful bargain

by her lover and tyrant Sebastiano.

But Pedro is quite ignorant of the true facts as is old Tommaso, who is

only now enlightened by Moruccio, the miller's man, as to Marta's

actual position.

Horrified at having helped to bring about this sinful marriage, Tommaso

tries to dissuade Sebastiano from his evil designs, but the landowner

drives him away and orders the clergyman to marry the young couple at

once.

Pedro is in high glee, but vainly tries to win a smile or a kind word

from his unhappy bride. While the village lads lead him away to be

dressed for the wedding, Sebastiano, taking Marta aside, once more

impresses upon her, that she is still and always will be his, and that

he will come to her chamber on the bridal night.

{509}

Marta shrinks from him in horror, but when Petro returns to fetch her,

she instinctively turns from him to her old master.

Petro has disdained to put on the fine clothes offered him, and goes to

church with his bride in his own old jacket.

When they are gone, Tommaso calls the land-owner once more to account

about Marta, and learns, that everything Moruccio told him is true, for

the young man repeats the story in his master's presence.

Tommaso hastens away, to stop the marriage, but already the church

bells are ringing and the bridal procession returns.

Pedro sends his guests away, and when alone with his wife tries to win

her love by his simple arts and wiles. He shows her the first hard

earned silver coin he gained by killing a wolf, which had made havoc

amongst the master's herds. The coin is still red with Pedro's own

blood.

But Marta, though somewhat softened and interested in spite of herself

only points to the room opposite her own, and is about to leave him,

when suddenly a light is seen in her own room. Marta shrinks back

frightened and this awakens Pedro's suspicions.

He too has seen the light, but Marta succeeds in quieting him for the

moment, as the light has disappeared.

Slowly a change is coming over Marta. As she perceives, that Pedro is

quite ignorant of her {510} true position, her heart goes out to him,

but she gives no sign of the love, that has taken possession of her.

She resolves to stay all night in this outer hall and sinks down near

the hearth, while Pedro stretches himself on the floor at her feet and

soon falls asleep.--

The second act still finds them in the same position. Marta, seeing

Pedro asleep, gets up quietly in the early dawn, to attend to her

household cares.

When she is out of the hall or kitchen, Nuri comes in and awakes Pedro.

The poor lad's suspicions return and are intensified tenfold by Nuri's

remarks about the village people, who laugh at and pity the young

husband, and she wonders, what the reason of this can be.

Marta, finding the two together, drives the girl away. Her love for

Pedro is awakened and with it jealousy. But Pedro, without looking at

his young wife, takes Nuri by the hand and leads her away.

Old Tommaso, who now comes in, reproaches Marta for her evil life.

With bitter tears she tells him her whole story. How she lived in

Barcelona with her mother, a beggar, having never known her

father;--how her mother died after years of misery, and how the old

lame man, who lived with them, took her abroad, and made her dance and

beg for him.

Having one day reached this village, the pretty girl of thirteen

pleased the rich landowner Sebastiano, and he made her his mistress,

after giving her old {511} foster-father this mill by way of

renumeration for his connivance.--She was often about to drown herself,

but her courage failed her, and so her life was passed in misery until

the day of this marriage, into which she was forced by her master.

Tommaso advises her, to confess everything to her husband, and to ask

his forgiveness.

In the next scene the village girls come to visit the young couple;

they drive Pedro almost mad with their taunts and innuendos, telling

him to ask Marta about their meaning.

When they are gone and Marta brings him the soup for his breakfast, he

refuses to touch it, and abruptly tells her, that he is going back to

the mountains alone.

Full of despair Marta defiantly owns, that she has belonged to another,

and recklessly goads him to such fury, that he seizes a knife and

wounds her in the arm.

She implores him to kill her, but seeing her blood flow, his love gets

the better of him; he presses her to his heart, and persuades her to

fly with him from the baleful air of the plain to the pure heights of

the mountains.

But the door is barred by a crowd of peasants and by Sebastiano

himself, who enters triumphantly and bids Marta dance for him. Pedro

forbids this and the master strikes him.

Still Pedro's respect holds him in check, till Marta whispers to him,

that Sebastiano is the man, who has brought her to shame.

{512}

On this Pedro flies at the scoundrel. He is however prevented from

attacking him by being forcibly removed by the peasants at Sebastiano's

command.

Marta sinks back in a swoon.

At this moment old Tommaso returns, and tells Sebastiano, that having

denounced his villany to the rich bride's father, the daughter is now

lost to him.

Recklessly Sebastiano turns to Marta, who, having revived, finds

herself alone with her old tyrant.

She struggles against him, calling to Pedro, who suddenly returns

through another door, and bidding the scoundrel defend himself rushes

upon him with his knife. But Sebastiano has no weapon, Pedro therefore

throws down his knife and says they can wrestle then, and so be on

equal terms.

After a short and desperate struggle Pedro succeeds in strangling

Sebastiano, who falls dead to the ground.

Pedro then calls the villain's servants, and taking his wife into his

arms, rushes away from the "Tiefland" to find peace and happiness in

the mountains.

{513}

MADAME BUTTERFLY.

Tragedy of a Japanese woman in three acts after John L. Long and David

Belasco by L. ILLICA and G. GIACOSA.

Music by GIACOMO PUCCINI.

Though Puccini has not reached the musical heights of "Bohème" and

"Tosca" in this opera, it has nevertheless a certain value for its true

local colouring, united to the grace and the broad, flowing cantilene

peculiar to the Italian composer.

These are most prominent in the love duet.

In the second act the little flower scene, which seems redolent with

the delicate perfume of cherry blossoms, and the shimmering atmosphere,

steeped in a peculiar shifting haze, gives score to the best musical

effects of this famous composer.

The scene is laid in Nagasaki in our own time.

The first act takes place on a hill, from which there is a grand view

of the ocean and of the town below.

Goro ("Nakodo"=matchmaker) shows his new Japanese house to an American

lieutenant, Linkerton, who has purchased it in Japanese fashion for 999

years, with the right of giving monthly notice.--He is waiting for his

bride Cho-Cho-San, named Butterfly, whom he is about to wed under the

same queer conditions for one hundred yens (a yen about four shillings).

Butterfly's maid Suzuki and his two servants are presented to him, but

he is impatient to embrace his sweetheart, with whom he is very much in

love.

{514}

Sharpless, the American Consul, who tells him much good of the little

bride, warns him, not to bruise the wings of the delicate butterfly,

but Linkerton only laughs at his remonstrances.

At last Butterfly appears with her companions. At her bidding, they

all shut their umbrellas and kneel to their friend's future husband, of

whom the girl is very proud.

Questioned by the Consul about her family, she tells him, that they are

of good origin, but that, her father having died, she had to support

herself and her mother as Geisha. She is but fifteen and very sweet

and tender hearted.--

When the procession of her relations come up, they all do obeisance to

Linkerton. They are all jealous of Butterfly's good luck and prophesy

an evil end, but the girl perfectly trusts and believes in her lover

and even confides to him, that she has left her own gods, to pray

henceforth to the God of her husband.

When the latter begins to show her their house, she produces from her

sleeve her few precious belongings; these are some silken scarfs, a

little brooch, a looking glass and a fan; also a long knife, which she

at once hides in a corner of the house. Goro tells Linkerton, that it

is the weapon, with which her father performed "Harakiri" (killed

himself). The last things she shows her lover are some little figures,

"the Ottoken", which represent the souls of her ancestors.--

{515}

When the whole assembly is ready, they are married by the commissary.

Linkerton treats his relations to champagne, but soon the festival is

interrupted by the dismal howls of Butterfly's uncle, the Bonze, who

climbs the hill and tells the relations, that the wretched bride has

denied her faith, and has been to the mission-house, to adopt her

husband's religion.

All turn from her with horror and curse her. But Linkerton consoles

his weeping wife and the act closes with a charming love duet.

The second act shows Butterfly alone.--Linkerton has left her, and she

sits dreamily with her faithful maid Suzuki, who vainly invokes her

gods, to bring back the faithless husband.

The young wife, who has been waiting three long years for his return,

still firmly believes his promise, to come back when the

robin-redbreast should build its nest.

She refuses a proposal of marriage from prince Yamadori, who has loved

her for years, and now tries again to win the forsaken wife. She

answers him with quiet dignity, that, though by Japanese law a wife is

considered free, as soon as her husband has left her, she considers

herself bound by the laws of her husband's country, and Yamadori leaves

her.

Sharpless now enters with a letter he has received from Linkerton. Not

daring, to let her know its contents at once, he warns her, that her

{516} husband will never return and advises her to accept prince

Yamadori's offer.

Butterfly is at first startled and alarmed, but soon she recovers

herself, and beckoning to Suzuki, she shows Sharpless her little fair

haired, blue eyed boy, begging the Consul to write and tell her

husband, that his child is awaiting him.

Sharpless takes leave of her deeply touched and without having shown

the letter, when Suzuki enters screaming and accusing Goro, who has

goaded her to fury, by spreading a report in the town, that the child's

father is not known.

"You lie, you coward!" cries Butterfly, seizing a knife to kill the

wretch. But suppressing her wrath she throws away the weapon and kicks

him from her in disgust.

Suddenly a cannon shot is heard. Running on to the terrace Butterfly

perceives a war-ship in the harbour, bearing the name "Abraham

Linkerton."

All her troubles are forgotten; she bids her maid gather all the

flowers in the garden; these she scatters around in profusion. Then

she fetches her boy and bids Suzuki comb her hair, while she herself

rouges her pale cheeks and those of her child.--Then they sit down

behind a partition, in which they have made holes, through which they

may watch the ship and await Linkerton's arrival.

The third act finds them in the same position. Suzuki and the child

have fallen asleep, while Butterfly, sleepless, gazes through the

"Shosy". Suzuki waking sees, that it is morning and implores her {517}

mistress to take some rest, on which Butterfly, taking her child in her

arms, retires into the inner room.

A loud knock causes Suzuki to open the "Shosy", and she finds herself

in the presence of Sharpless and Linkerton. The latter signs to her,

not to waken Butterfly. She is showing him the room adorned with

flowers for his arrival, when she suddenly perceives a lady walking in

the garden and hears, that she is Linkerton's lawful American wife.

Sharpless, taking the maid aside, begs her to prepare her mistress for

the coming blow and tells her, that the foreign lady desires to adopt

her husband's little boy.

Linkerton himself is deeply touched by the signs of Butterfly's undying

love; full of remorse he entreats Sharpless to comfort her as best he

can, and weeping leaves the scene of his first love dream.

His wife Kate returning to the foot of the terrace, sweetly repeats her

wish to adopt the little boy, when Butterfly, emerging from the inner

room, comes to look for her long lost husband, whose presence she feels

with the divination of love.

Seeing Sharpless standing by a foreign lady and Suzuki in tears the

truth suddenly bursts upon her. "Is he alive?" she asks, and when

Suzuki answers "yes", she knows that he has forsaken her.--

{518}

Turned to stone she listens to Kate's humble apologies and to her offer

to take the child.--By a supreme effort she controls herself.

"I will give up my child to him only; let him come and take him; I

shall by ready in half an hour," she answers brokenly.

When Sharpless and Kate have left her, Butterfly sends Suzuki into

another room with the child. Then seizing her father's long knife she

takes her white veil, throwing it over the folding screen. Kissing the

blade she reads its inscription. "Honourably he dies, who no longer

lives in honour," and raises it to her throat.

At this moment the door opens and her child runs up to his mother with

outstretched arms. Snatching him to her bosom she devours him with

kisses, then sends him into the garden.

Seizing the knife once more Butterfly disappears behind the screen and

shortly afterward the knife is heard to fall.

When Linkerton's call "Butterfly" is heard, she emerges once more from

the background and drags herself to the door; but there her strength

fails her and she sinks dead to the ground.--

ACTÉ.

Music-Drama in four Acts. Text and Music by JOAN MANÉN.

It is only a few years since the young Spanish composer has begun to be

known beyond his own country.

{519}

He was an infant prodigy, whose musical genius revealed itself in his

earliest childhood. He began to play the piano at the age of three,

and at seven he knew twenty-four of Bach's fugues by heart.

His fame began to be spoken of during his tours in Spain and all over

America, where he appeared not only as virtuoso on the piano and on the

violin, but also as director in difficult orchestral pieces.--When he

was thirteen he devoted himself entirely to the violin and to

composition, both of which studies occupied his early years completely.

Acté was produced at Barcelona in 1903, and its first performance out

of Spain took place in Dresden on January 24th 1908.

It was received with general approval, due, it must be confessed, not

so much to its dramatic effect as to its gorgeous and artistic staging.

Though the opera shows great talent, fine orchestration, a distinct

sense of local colour and some beautiful melodies, it lacks depth and

dramatic power.--

It is more like one of those old stage operas of Verdi and Bellini,

though it does not imitate them and contains, Wagner like, a number of

leading motives. The same want is also to be found in the libretto,

which fails to show us Nero, the many-sided; depicting him almost

exclusively as a lover.--But considering the composer's youth, (he was

just nineteen, when he wrote Acté), it promises much and is well worth

hearing--and seeing.

The scene is laid in Rome during the reign of Nero.

{520}

The first Act takes place in the Palatine, where Agrippina, Nero's

mother, is haunted by evil forebodings, suggested by the story of

Clytemnestra's fate, sung by a chorus of her attendants.

Nero appears, and seeing his mother restless and uneasy, tries to

soothe her with assurances of his filial devotion. Agrippina reminds

him of all she has done for him, and how she has committed crimes to

pave his way to the throne.--To reassure her, he begs her to ask any

favour she desires. On this she demands his separation from the Greek

slave Acté, whom he has freed, and whom he loves to distraction, Acté

being in fact the only woman he ever loved.

Nero of course indignantly refuses to make this sacrifice.--Agrippina

persists in her demands and carried away by her violent temper and her

contempt for her false and treacherous son she commands him, either to

give up Acté, or to give back the imperial power to his mother, as she

alone made him, what he is.--Nero enraged shows himself as the ruler

and the despot and so terrifies her, that she tries to retract her evil

words and begs his pardon.

Tigellinus, Nero's friend and confidant, has heard her last words. He

excites his master's hatred against his false mother still more, and

they decide to take vengeance on her at some favourable time.

Hearing Acté singing in the vestibule Tigellinus leaves Nero, who

receives his lady with open arms. A charming love-duet closes the

first Act.--

{521}

In the second Act Marcus, an old Christian Patriarch, meets Acté in the

gardens of the Palatine at night and wins her over to his faith. She

promises to join the Christians, and to this purpose calls her slave

Parthos, whom she persuades to guide her to the cave of Marcus.--After

having given him a ring, Nero's love-token, to deliver to Caesar, she

bribes Parthos, to swear, not to betray her secret, by making over to

him all her worldly goods.--

Unfortunately this interview has been witnessed by Agrippina from her

hiding place in the bushes, and she decides to make use of her

discovery against her son.

When day breaks a grand festival takes place in the gardens. Agrippina

hails her son, and seeing him alone she sweetly asks where his faithful

companion Acté is.--Nero at once sends Tigellinus in search of her.

A beautiful ballet is now danced, and afterwards Caesar himself takes

his lute and sings a hymn in praise of Venus, the Goddess of love.--He

has hardly ended, when Tigellinus rushes in and exclaims that Acté is

not to be found.

Nero storms and Agrippina, pretending to know nothing, suggests that

Parthos should be questioned. The poor slave is dragged forward; he

denies any knowledge of Acté's whereabouts, but her ring is found upon

him. This he tremblingly gives to Nero, declaring that Acté gave it to

him to return to Caesar.--Tigellinus says, that the slave evidently

{522} knows more than this, and Nero orders him to be tortured. While

the wretched Parthos is being led away Agrippina declares defiantly,

that she alone knows where Acté is, and offers to tell Nero on the

condition, that he will restore to her the imperial power, that she

covets. Nero, enraged beyond measure orders Tigellinus to keep his

mother as a prisoner, until she reveals Acté's hiding-place.

He then turns to the frightened spectators and with the words "My will

is law, I am Caesar and will remain so for ever" the Act closes.

In the third Act Nero accompanied by Tigellinus leads his Pretorian

guards to the hiding-place of the Christians.--This he has found out

from the confessions of Parthos.--Nero hears Acté's voice singing a

Miserere, but commands his guards to conceal themselves.--

The Christians, among them Acté and Marcus, believing themselves safe

in the stormy night, at last emerge from the mountain caves, and at a

sign from Nero are surrounded by the Pretorian guards.

Nero seizes Acté and tries to win back her love, but Acté remains firm,

and she so infuriates her royal lover, that he threatens her with his

dagger.--Old Marcus stepping between, only rouses the Emperor's anger

to a higher pitch, while Tigellinus denounces the old man as Nero's

rival and the cause of Acté's flight. Both are led away as captives

with their Christian brethren to Rome.

The last Act takes place on the terrace of the Palatine.

{523}

Lovely dances beguile the weary hours for Nero, lying on his couch, a

prey to love and hatred. Tigellinus tries to rouse his pride by

relating to him the last interview between Marcus and Acté overheard by

him.

He describes the old man's exhortations and glowing promises of a

better life, and Acté's calm courage and deep faith, and Nero cries:

"She must be mine, or she dies!"--At this moment the Christians are

heard, greeting Caesar as they pass the palace on their way to

death.--Acté is not with them, she is now brought before Nero with

Marcus, for whom she implores Nero's pardon.--But it is in vain; Nero

falls upon the originator of his woes, and kills him with his own

hands.--

In this moment flames are seen leaping up in the streets of Rome.

Tigellinus hurries in, exclaiming that the people accuse their Emperor

of having set the city on fire, and already their furious cry is heard:

"Death to the red Caesar!"

Beside himself with rage and fear Nero seizes Acté, and throwing her

down from the terrace amongst the people, he accuses the Christians of

having set fire to the town. Acté perishes a victim to the fury of the

people, while Nero cries out: "Burn O Rome, burn, Nero greets Thee!"

{524}

EUGENE ONEGIN.

Lyric Scenes in three acts by P. J. TSCHAIKOWSKY.

Text after Puschkin's poem of the same name.

Tschaikowsky's opera, long known and so intensely popular throughout

Russia, that many of its melodies have become household-properties, has

taken a long time to penetrate into other countries. But wherever it

has been represented, its success was great and its impression upon the

public deep and lasting.

At the Dresden Opera House it was first given October 20th, 1908,

though the composer wrote it fully 29 years ago. It was the most

brilliant success of the season.

Tschaikowsky is the classic amongst the Russian composers; his concert

music is well known and greatly esteemed in Germany.

Of the eleven operas, which he wrote, Eugene Onegin is the best.

The libretto lacks dramatic force, although it is taken from Puschkin's

masterpiece, a poem, which in Russia is equalled to Goethe's Faust, but

the music is strikingly original and full of exquisite music and

harmony. The hearer's attention may be drawn especially to the fine

duet between Olga and Tatiana, and to the latter's love letter, a

supreme hymn of love in the first act.

In the second act there are some charming dances, a quaint

old-fashioned waltz, an original Mazurka and in the third act a

brilliant polonaise {525} and a delightful waltz, interwoven with the

passionate love duet between Onegin and Tatiana.

The text is adapted for the stage by Tschaikowsky's brother Modeste.

The scene is laid in Russia. The first and second acts take place in

the country-house of Madame Larina, the third act in the house of

Prince Gremin at St. Petersburg.

In the first scene Madame Larina is sitting in the garden with the

nurse Philipyewna, talking of old times and listening to the pretty

songs of her two daughters. Olga, a light-hearted merry girl, is

engaged to Lenski, a somewhat jealous youth. Tatiana, the younger

sister, is thoughtful and sensitive and possesses all the

sentimentality of sweet eighteen.

While they are talking the peasants of the village enter, bringing

presents of fruit and corn to their landlady. After having performed

their pretty dances, they are treated to wine and food by the nurse.--

When they have left Lenski, Olga's betrothed is announced. He

introduces his friend Eugene Onegin to the family, and Tatiana promptly

falls in love with the interesting stranger, who seems also attracted

by the charming girl. Lenski has only eyes for his bride Olga, who

soon grows somewhat tired of her passionate and exacting lover.--

In the evening, when Tatiana has retired to her bedroom, she writes a

long letter to Onegin, telling him, that she has seen his face in her

dreams, and believes him to be her good genius and her {526} guardian

angel. She declares in the most touching terms, that she loves him,

but being ashamed of herself and hardly knowing, what she is doing in

her newly awakened love-fever, she writes again and again, destroying

each letter. Towards morning she begins to write once more and at last

seals the letter just when her nurse enters to waken her. To this

faithful servant she entrusts the precious document, imploring her to

deliver it to Onegin.

In the third scene Tatiana is waiting for him. He cruelly undeceives

her about his own feelings, telling her, that although touched by her

confidence he cannot return her affection. He warns her to restrain

her feelings in future, leaving her in an agony of shame.

The second act opens with a dance given in honour of Tatiana's

birthday. Onegin feels bored and out of sheer ennui he begins to flirt

with Olga. The thoughtless girl willingly yields to the young man's

attentions and promises to dance the cotillion with him, in order to

punish her lover for his jealousy.--This tactless behaviour enrages

Lenski to such a degree, that he challenges Onegin to a duel. The

whole assembly is terrified, Tatiana is most indignant and mortified,

while Olga vainly tries to pacify her lover. Onegin recognizes at

last, that he has gone too far, having not only given pain to a sweet

and innocent maiden, but having also deeply wounded his dearest friend.

In vain he tries to remonstrate with Lenski. The duel is arranged, and

Lenski, feeling that he may not see {527} the following morning, takes

a last farewell of his weeping bride.

In the next scene Lenski, finding himself the first on the spot and

being left discreetly alone by his second, takes a touching farewell

from life, after which Onegin comes up and the duel follows. Lenski is

shot and Onegin leaves the place, horror-struck at his own deed.

The third act takes place some years later at a ball in St. Petersburg,

in the house of Prince Gremin. Here we find Onegin, who is a friend

and relative of the Prince. After long and aimless wanderings about

the world he has come back to Russia utterly weary of life. The memory

of his friend Lenski, whose premature death he caused, haunts him. In

this melancholy state of mind he sees Tatiana again. The Prince enters

the ballroom, leading a lady, whom Onegin recognizes as Tatiana. Then

the Prince introduces her as his wife. She has grown far lovelier,

then when he saw her last on the eve of Lenski's death. Onegin's

passionate heart suddenly awakes to life again.--Tatiana bows coldly,

concealing her emotion. Onegin explains to the Prince, that he has

just returned from his travels.--He tries to talk with Tatiana; she

however turns to her husband, pleading fatigue, and leaves the

ball-room with him.

Onegin, torn by jealousy and love, decides, to recover her affection at

any cost.

In the final scene he implores Tatiana, to be his own. The young wife

resists, reminding him {528} of the past, when he spurned the simple

country maiden's blind love. At last she grows weak and confesses,

that her love for him is not dead. His wooing growing more passionate,

Tatiana declares, that she means to remain true to her husband, and

refuses to elope with him, but feeling that she cannot resist him much

longer, she flees, while Onegin rushes away, cursing himself and his

whole life.

ELEKTRA.

Tragedy in one act by HUGO VON HOFMANNSTHAL.

Music by RICHARD STRAUSS.

The first production of Strauss' Elektra took place in Dresden January

25th, 1909. It met with immense applause from one part, with trenchant

criticism from the Philistines.

Certainly Strauss is neither Wagnerian nor academical, and certain it

is, that his new work is interesting enough, to necessitate its

admission in the Standard Operaglass.

The instrumentation is marvellous; orchestral impossibilities are

unknown to Strauss. Although he depicts with predilection the weird

and ghastly, following closely the libretto, often sacrificing beauty

of expression to realistic truth, yet he also finds motives of deep

feeling. These are for instance the melodious songs of Chrysothemis,

the sisters' first duet and the recognition of Orestes by Elektra.

The legend of Orestes has occupied the poets of all times. Its

greatest interpreter was Sophokles, who first chose Elektra for the

heroine of his drama. {529} But while classic grandeur prevails in the

old poet's drama, while he makes Elektra the tool of destiny decreed by

the gods, the Viennese poet goes back to the original myth, depriving

his heroine of every human feeling. She lets herself be guided only by

her thirst for vengeance, and by her own savage and unprincipled

instincts, and appears in striking contrast to her sister Chrisothemis,

whose gentle nature is the one redeeming feature in the drama.

The scene is laid in Mykene.

In the opening scene five maids are talking about Elektra, who enters

haggard and in rags, shunning them and disappearing again like a hunted

animal. Day by day she mourns for her father Agamemnon, who has been

murdered by her mother's lover Aegisthos.

The maids find fault with Elektra's strange behaviour and haughtiness.

They believe her to be dangerous and suggest, that her mother should

lock her up safely. One maid reproves them however. She respects in

Elektra the dead King's cherished daughter, who, though in rags and

brought so low by her unnatural mother, that she is compelled to eat

with the servants, yet bears herself more queenly than Clytemnestra

herself. The others beat their companion for her allegiance to

Elektra, who appears again, moaning for Agamemnon. His poor murdered

body seems to arise fresh before her every day. Her one aim in life is

vengeance on his murderers, and her only hope is her brother Orestes,

who has disappeared.

{530}

She is joined by her sister Chrysothemis, who implores her to abandon

her vindictive thoughts, the cause of their common captivity. She

further reveals to her, that their mother means to imprison her, but

Elektra laughs at her terror.--Chrysothemis longs for freedom, the love

of a husband and children, and is utterly alien to her sister's dark

thoughts. Hearing her mother's step she entreats Elektra to go away,

Clytemnestra having had evil dreams about her son's coming home and

killing her. Elektra, regardless of her prayers meets her mother with

a cruel stare. The latter is in her darkest mood, which grows worse at

her hated daughter's appearance. But Elektra, accosting her as a

goddess for once quiets her suspicions. Clytemnestra dismisses her

servants, who tries to warn her against her daughter. When they are

alone, the Queen complains bitterly of the frightful dreams that haunt

her, and wants to know, what she can do to banish them.

Elektra answers enigmatically, that a woman must be sacrificed, and

that a man, but not Aegisthos the coward, must do it.

Clytemnestra, vainly guessing at his name, is reminded of her son

Orestes, whom the mother has made to disappear, while he was a child.

Her troubled looks convince Elektra that Orestes is living, and casting

off her disguised mood, she sternly tells her mother, that she herself

is to be the sacrifice.--In a long wild monologue she reproaches her

for all her treachery, ending by {531} depicting the awful fate that

awaits her, and rejoicing over it.

Clytemnestra's terror is appeased by the appearance of her attendants,

one of whom whispers to her the welcome news of Orestes' death.

Wildly triumphant she leaves her daughter, who hears the bad news from

Chrysothemis. Elektra will not believe it until she hears it from

another servant, who is sent into the fields, to inform Aegisthos about

it. Then she implores her sister's help in killing her mother and her

lover, while they are asleep.--She has hidden the axe, with which her

father was slain, yet being physically weaker than her younger sister

she requires assistance. But although she promises her all the good

things on earth and is ready to serve her like a slave, Chrysothemis

turns from her shuddering and finally escapes. Elektra wildly curses

her and resolves to carry out her design alone.

For this purpose she unearths the axe, but is disturbed by the arrival

of a stranger, who takes her for one of the maids. He replies to her

angry questions, that he has come to announce Orestes' death, which he

has witnessed. Flashing with anger Elektra reproaches him for not

having died in his stead. Her bearing convinces him, that she is

superior to what she seems. Then she tells him, that she is Elektra,

to which he replies in a whisper: "Orestes lives."--At this moment an

old family servants enters, bringing three others, who, falling at the

stranger's feet, hail him as their master. {532} Then Elektra

recognizes her brother and greets him with passionate joy, though she

is ashamed of her own miserable appearance. Orestes at once agrees to

help her in her vengeance and enters the house with his old servant,

locking the door behind him. Elektra, standing erect on the threshold,

hears Clytemnestra's scream and exclaims: "Hit her once more!" Those

screams bring on Clytemnestra's servants together with Chrysothemis,

all trying to open the closed door. But when they see Aegisthos

returning they vanish.

The king calls for lights. Elektra taking up a torch, bows low to him,

and motions him to go on. When he recognizes her, he asks where the

men are, who brought the news of Orestes' death.--Elektra, silently

advancing with the torch, opens the door and lets him pass into the

house. Then she stands like one transfixed, listening to the frightful

cries inside the house.--Chrysothemis appearing in a transport of joy

shouts to her, that Orestes has come, and has avenged them by slaying

the guilty pair.--All his enemies are dead thanks to those servants,

who had remained faithful to him. Orestes is brought out on their

shoulders, and while Chrysothemis joins her brother, Elektra sings a

weird hymn of exultation. Slowly descending from the steps of the

threshold she begins to dance triumphantly. The crowd looks on

spellbound; her dance grows wilder and more triumphant until she sinks

to the ground lifeless.

{533}

VERSIEGELT.

(SEALED.)

Comic Opera in one act by RICHARD BATKA and PORDES-MILO, adapted from

Rauppach's "Der versiegelte Bürgermeister".

Music by LEO BLECH.

The popularity of this work, the composer's first real success, is due

not only to the sparkling and easy flow of melody, but also in large

measure to the skill with which the librettists have adapted Rauppach's

old-fashioned comedy.

We are transported to the age of chokers and kneebreeches, and the

easy-going and good-humoured spirit of the times is well caught, and

combined with the more delicate touches of feeling.

Blech is no mere imitator, but has a distinct individuality.

The chorus of the "Schützen", the dainty and touching little song of

the widow Gertrude, and the first love duet are effective and

characteristic, while the garrulous Lampe's songs are full of merriment.

The scene is laid in a small provincial town in the year 1830. Frau

Willmers, a worthy matron, asks permission of her neighbour, a

sprightly young widow, to deposit in her house an heirloom, in the

shape of a handsome old cupboard, her reason being that the Burgomaster

who bears her a grudge owing to an ancient dispute with her husband,

threatens her with distraint for non-payment of taxes. Gertrude

readily consents to have the cupboard placed in her room. Meanwhile

Frau Willmers' son, Bertel, the Recorder, appears with Elsa, the {534}

daughter of the Burgomaster. Bertel has asked the Burgomaster for

Elsa's hand, and been refused. Elsa declares that she will marry

Bertel and no one but Bertel. The latter begs Gertrude, who has long

possessed the Burgomaster's affections, to soften the father's heart.

Gertrude promises to do her best, with which consolation the couple

together with Frau Willmers take their departure. In a humorous

monologue Gertrude decides to accept the Burgomaster. She is

interrupted in her soliloquy by Lampe, the Beadle, who is a regular old

Paul Pry, and boasts to the widow of his smartness and sagacity.

According to himself he can ferret out anything, or any one, from a

defrauder of the revenue to a thief, an anarchist or a murderer. Then

he goes on to say that he intended to serve notice of distraint on Frau

Willmers, but had found her door locked. Suddenly he catches sight of

the cupboard which seems familiar to him, whereupon he hurriedly leaves

to convince himself that the valuable piece of furniture has been

removed from Frau Willmers'. Meanwhile the Burgomaster arrives to ask

for Gertrude's hand. He first tells her of Bertel's suit, and is

rather taken aback upon the widow advising him to accept Bertel as a

son-in-law. Gertrude listens somewhat impatiently to his proposal, and

just as he is about to kiss her, Lampe appears at the door with Frau

Willmers. Gertrude hastily conceals the Burgomaster in the cupboard.

Lampe having compelled the unfortunate Frau Willmers to admit the

ownership of the cupboard, {535} promptly affixes the official seal,

thus unconsciously seizing the Burgomaster as well as the cupboard.

The key is not to be found, and Lampe looking through a hole sees

something moving. He suspects a gallant to be inside and leaves the

house to fetch the Burgomaster. No sooner has he left than Bertel and

Elsa reappear, and are told by Gertrude of what has happened. They

resolve to turn the Burgomaster's involuntary imprisonment to their

advantage. While Gertrude and Frau Willmers go in search of witnesses,

the pair of lovers enact a regular comedy in front of the cupboard.

Bertel protests to his sweetheart that his loyalty to, and regard for,

her father prevent him from being a party to any deception. He

declares that he will rather die than marry the daughter against her

father's wishes, whereupon Elsa takes tragic leave of her lover. The

Burgomaster, deeply affected, reveals his presence and promises

everything if Bertel will only release him. Bertel demands Elsa's hand

in return, and the latter hastily draws up a marriage contract in

virtue of which she is to be allowed to marry in a fortnight, and is to

receive into the bargain from her father 500 dollars in gold, a house

and garden, with the customary livestock, to wit, cows, goats, ducks,

hens, etc. The document is passed into the cupboard by Bertel and

signed by the prisoner. He is then set at liberty, and gives the

couple his blessing. But to punish them for their sins, the

Burgomaster now locks them up in the cupboard, {536} seals it lightly

[Transcriber's note: tightly?], and hides himself in the alcove.

Hereupon Gertrude appears, accompanied by a merry throng, whom she has

brought from the fair to witness the release of her lover. An

inspiriting chorus is sung, the door of the cupboard flies open, but

instead of the Burgomaster, out steps the betrothed couple. At the

same moment the Burgomaster appears with stern mien. In reply to his

question as to how the couple had got into the cupboard, Gertrude

artfully declares that she had shut them up in order to unite them in

spite of the father's harshness. For a moment all are disappointed at

the unexpected turn things are taking. But good humour gains the upper

hand, and then increases on the appearance of Lampe who is slightly

intoxicated and imagines that Bertel has killed his master, as he has

been unable to find him. He wants to lock Gertrude up in the cupboard

for having broken the official seal, but eventually is forced into the

cupboard himself, and carried off amidst the shouts and jeers of all

present. While Bertel and Elsa disappear into the alcove, the

Burgomaster makes for Gertrude and as a punishment for the trick she

has played him, makes her his wife and seals the compact in the usual

manner.

Albanus' Printing Office, Dresden.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Standard Operaglass, by Charles Annesley