a safe-conduct. Tosca and Cavaradossi join in a finely expressive duet,
in which the latter learns of her devotion, and how for him she killed
Scarpia. Towards the close the voices are unsupported, and the whole
number has a very characteristic force and movement.
[Illustration: PUCCINI AT TORRE DEL LAGO IN HIS MOTOR BOAT "BUTTERFLY"]
The sky has gradually been getting lighter, and the passage of time is
marked by the striking of the hour of four by the church clock. Then
Tosca gives the final instructions to the condemned man. "As soon as
they fire, fall down." Cavaradossi, in his joy at his coming release,
is even able to be humorous, and suggests that he will be acting like
Tosca.
Tosca watches the supposed execution from the parapet. "How well he
acts!" she cries, after she has covered her ears with her hands to
shut out the sound of the shooting, and then sees her lover prostrate
on the ground. Leaning over, she calls to him: "Get up, Mario, now.
Quickly away, Mario, Mario." Then with a heart-piercing cry she learns
that Scarpia has been false to the end, and that the execution has in
very truth taken place. By this time the news of Scarpia's death has
come out, and Spoletta naturally fixes on Tosca as the murderess. The
soldiers' voices are heard joining in the hue and cry, and Sciarrone
comes in to seize Tosca. Tosca after thrusting back Spoletta nearly to
the ground, hurls herself from the parapet. Her last thoughts are of
the tyrant who has so cruelly wronged her, and her last words are: "O
Scarpia, we shall face God together!"
In pure orchestration, Puccini in _Tosca_ shows an advance on _La
Bohème_, in the general symphonic fulness and in the more extended
use of representative themes. The orchestra employed is the usual
large orchestra of the moderns, and Puccini adds a third flute, a
contrabassoon, a celesta, and for the special effects in the opening of
the third act a set of bells. There are several places where more work
than hitherto is obtained from the dividing of the strings, but not in
any way like the Strauss method, for example, of subdividing them into
several distinct groups. As will have been seen during the progress
of the story, the themes stand out as invariably characteristic, and
at the first entrance of Tosca the theme is delightful, given out by
the flute against the plucked strings. There is excellent work by the
wood wind in the impressive finale of the first act, which is mainly
developed out of the bell theme.
In the pastoral music at the opening of the third act Puccini uses with
characteristic force a passage of fifths--one which he is always very
fond of employing, and which, curiously enough, always has the effect
of bringing about the special flavour or atmosphere it is intended to
convey in any one particular place.
In the _Daily Telegraph_ the critic prefaces his column notice, which
appeared the day after the first production, with a protest against
the conjunction of a pure and beautiful art--music--with the workings
of a humanity that has gone to the devil. But apart from these
considerations, the writer has little but praise for the singularly
lucid libretto.
"The first and all important remark to make concerning the music," he
proceeds, "has to do with its Italian character. There is very little
that can be regarded as common to it and to the typical German opera.
The pedestal is not on the stage and the statue in the orchestra.
Tosca does not offer us declamation as a key to symphonic music nor
symphonic music as a key to declamation. The work does not follow
the old operatic lines into matter of detail. All is subordinate to
the changing situations and emotions of the stage. So far Tosca is
modern; for the rest it presents the characteristics which have always
distinguished Italian opera--long reaches of tender or passionate
melody, intense climaxes, and a disposition to proceed everywhere on
broad and direct lines to the desired goal."
The charm of the light music of the first act, the beautiful soul of
Cavaradossi to the picture he has painted, the piling up of the effects
in the finale, the vigour of the music in the second act, particularly
where Scarpia presses his suit, and the duet of the lovers at S.
Angelo, are the points which call forth praise, while, on the other
hand, this critic finds most of the music allotted to Angelotti and
Scarpia dull. The notice ends with a tribute to the art of Ternina, who
"acted with the grace and directness of a true tragedian."
Mr. Arthur Hervey, in the _Morning Post_, sets out, very clearly and
characteristically, a plain and straightforward account of the music
and story. The curious succession of chords at the opening of the
prelude, the suggestion of the amorous nature of Scarpia's character by
the opening notes of the second act, the pleasing effect of the gavotte
heard during Scarpia's monologue, when he awaits the arrival of his
spies, the beautiful song for Tosca, "Vissi d'arte d'amor," the beauty
of the music in the last act, the ingenuity, finish and resource of the
orchestration as a whole, are points which are fully expressed by this
discerning critic. With regard to the interpretation, he does not find
Signor Scotti's Scarpia entirely satisfactory, while he joins in the
fullest praise for Ternina's masterly performance in the name part. It
ends, that the opera was received with every sign of success, and that
the composer, Mancinelli, the conductor, and the exponents were called
many times before the curtain.
The _Times_ critic makes an interesting comparison at the outset of his
notice, referring to the masterly finale of the first act: "The scene
is one in which Meyerbeer would have delighted, but it is treated by
Puccini with far greater sincerity than Meyerbeer could ever command,
and with a knowledge of effect at least equal to his." With regard
to the use of representative themes, the writer finds that the one
associated with the passion of Scarpia--a phrase with an arpeggio
in it, appears to be derived from the woman's charm in the "Ring."
Referring to the gavotte and cantata at the opening of the second act,
the writer says they are "in excellent style and belong to the period
of the action or a little before it, as it may be doubted whether the
Roman composers of 1800 were capable of producing so interesting a
piece of solid workmanship as the cantata, or so graceful and original
a composition as the gavotte."
IX
"MADAMA BUTTERFLY"
For his latest opera, _Madama Butterfly_, Puccini turned to the flowery
land of Japan for the environment of a story--the book being by Illica
and Giocosa--which, following his invariable custom, he chose himself.
The suggestion appears to have come originally from Mr. Frank Nielson,
who was then the stage manager at Covent Garden, that Puccini should
go and see the play by Belasco, running at the time at the Duke of
York's Theatre in London. He did so, and was immediately taken with
its possibilities. It may be mentioned as a tribute to the actors who
interpreted this play, that without knowing any English Puccini was
able to follow the story with perfect ease. He was greatly struck by
Miss Evelyn Millard's performance of the name part, and her photograph
as Butterfly is among his collection of celebrities at Torre del Lago.
The story is a slight one, and is no more Japanese than the plot of
_La Bohème_ is French. It is a presentation of the universal theme of
a man's passion, which is an episode, and a woman's love, which is her
life. A little Japanese girl is wooed and won by an American naval
officer. She, in her trust and devotion regards herself, after going
through some sort of marriage ceremony, as his lawful wife. He regards
the whole affair as an incident, the mere satisfying of an animal
instinct, and returns, married to an American wife, to find the girl a
mother. The ending is the usual sad one--the girl takes her life when
her dishonoured state comes upon her in its full significance.
_Madama Butterfly_ was written for the most part during Puccini's
recovery from his accident; but he had planned out a good deal of
it by the end of 1902 or the beginning of the next year. He himself
about this time said of the work: "As an opera, it would be in one act
divided by an intermezzo. The theme has a sentiment, a passion which
veritably haunts me. I have it constantly ringing in my head."
The intermezzo mentioned was Puccini's idea of treating the very
effective and most eloquent silence on which, it will be remembered,
the curtain fell, while the little Japanese girl with her servant and
baby were keeping their long, long vigil through the night, awaiting
the return of the supposed husband who, after all, was only a lover,
and a poor one at that.
[Illustration: PUCCINI'S MANUSCRIPT. FIRST SKETCH FOR THE END OF THE
FIRST ACT OF "MADAMA BUTTERFLY"]
Puccini was at Rome for a time soon after his complete recovery from
his accident, and took special pains to get up the local colour for his
new work. For this he invoked the aid of the Japanese ambassadress, and
obtained some actual Japanese melodies from a friend of hers in Paris.
Of music there is no lack in Japan, but by the Japanese themselves it
is never written down. Like the troubadours of old, the musicians, who
are a sort of guild, hand the traditional songs and dances on from
father to son.
_Madama Butterfly_ was produced at the Scala, Milan, on February 17,
1904. Canpanini was the conductor, and it was cast as follows:
_Butterfly_ STORCHIO.
_Suzuki_ GIACONIA.
_Pinkerton_ ZENATELLO.
_Sharpless_ DE LUCA.
_Goro_ PINI-CORSI.
_Zio Bonzo_ VENTURINI.
_Yakusidé_ WULMANN.
Although Puccini was at the very zenith of his popularity a strange
thing happened with the first production of this new opera, and the
composer went through a similar experience to that which Wagner had
to suffer when _Tannhäuser_ was first given in Paris. The audience
simply howled with derision. For the reason of this it is difficult
to account. The storm of disapproval began after the first few bars
of the opening act. Puccini, very quietly, took matters into his own
hands, and at the end of the performance thanked the conductor for his
trouble and marched off with the score. The second or any subsequent
performance was therefore an impossibility.
He tells an amusing story of a little incident occasioned by the
fiasco, which, he says, brought him at least some little consolation,
and atoned for much disillusion. A bookkeeper at Genoa, an ardent
admirer of Puccini, indignant at what he considered the outrageous
treatment--for it was nothing else--meted out to his favourite
composer, went to the City Hall to register the birth of a daughter.
When the clerk asked the name of the child, he replied, "Butterfly."
"What!" said the official, "do you want to brand your child for life
with the memory of a failure?" But the father persisted, and so as
Butterfly the child was entered. A little time after this Puccini heard
of the incident, and rather touched with the simple devotion, asked
the father to bring the child to see him. On the appointed day Puccini
looked out of the window and saw a long stream of people approaching
his front door. Not only did the father bring little "Butterfly," but,
as in the first act of the opera from which her name was derived, her
mother, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, as well--in fact the whole
surviving members of the genealogical tree. Puccini laughingly said at
the end of a trying afternoon that it was the most gigantic reception
he had ever held.
The despised opera was given in what is known as the present revised
version at Brescia, on 28 May of the same year, the Butterfly being
Krusceniski, and Bellati the Sharpless, Zenatello being again the
Pinkerton. Strange to say, it proved entirely to the taste of those who
saw it. The revision, as a matter of fact, amounted to very little. It
was played in two acts instead of one, with the intermezzo dividing two
scenes in the second act, making it, in reality, in three acts, and the
tenor air was added in the last scene.
No more striking proof of Puccini's popularity could be found than the
fact that the new opera quickly came to London. It was seen at Covent
Garden on July 10, 1905, Campanini being the conductor, and was cast
as follows:
_Butterfly_ DESTINN.
_Suzuki_ LEJEUNE.
_Pinkerton_ CARUSO.
_Sharpless_ SCOTTI.
_Goro_ DUFRICHE.
_Zio Bonzo_ COTREUIL.
_Yakusidé_ ROSSI.
Its splendid performance was helped in no small degree by the superb
interpretation of the name part by Mdme. Destinn, and the news of its
favourable reception was one of the greatest pleasures ever afforded to
its composer. It was given again early in the autumn season of the same
year, by the company, conducted by Mugnone (who, by the way, was not
the person of the same name whose death was chronicled very soon after
the conclusion of the season), and for which the composer came over,
having been away at Buenos Ayres when the work was given in the summer.
Zenatello, who was the original Pinkerton at the Milan production, was
seen in this part on this occasion, making his first appearance in
London during that season. Giachetti was the Butterfly and Sammarco the
Sharpless.
The original source of the story, I believe, was a story by John Luther
Long, and emanated from America. It was turned into a play by David
Belasco, and, as in the case of _The Darling of the Gods_, the author's
name appeared jointly with the dramatist, or adaptor, on the play
bills. The simple touching little story depends rather upon its pathos
and atmosphere, which is decidedly poetical, than on any great dramatic
situation. A lieutenant, F. B. Pinkerton, of the United States Navy,
goes through a ceremony of marriage with a little Japanese girl, with
no intention of regarding the contract as in the least degree binding.
Little Butterfly (or Cio Cio San, as her Japanese name is) thinks
differently, and after her child is born watches and waits anxiously
for the return of her husband. Sharpless is a friend of Pinkerton's,
and is the consul at Nagasaki, and he tries to break the news gently to
the sorrowful girl who has been so cruelly misled, and in the "letter"
song in the last act is provided with one of the most subtle and
dramatic numbers in the whole work. Butterfly believes in Pinkerton's
fidelity and honour up to the end, when her ideal is shattered by the
arrival of Pinkerton's wife, an American woman, who wants to befriend
the child, and who has apparently condoned Pinkerton's lapse from the
strict path of virtue. Butterfly, however, prefers to die by her own
hand, and this she does, after caressing the child and giving way to
a torrent of grief, and pathetically placing an American flag in the
baby's hand. Pinkerton comes in time to see her pass away, and in
calling her name in an outburst of sorrow and remorse, the story ends.
In _La Bohème_ it has been seen how singularly happy Puccini was in
stringing together, by the flow of his music, a dramatic scheme that is
concerned with detached scenes and incidents; and in _Madama Butterfly_
he is equally successful and characteristic. The music is essentially
vocal, but the chief melodies are often to be found in the orchestral
fabric, a feature which comes out more prominently in this work than in
any of this composer's since _Manon_, and which goes to prove that it
stands as his chief orchestral achievement.
The present work begins in somewhat curious fashion with a tonal fugue,
as if to show that the composer with all his modernity has still a
regard for the old forms. A similar figure is used for the opening
of the second act. The first indication of the Japanese character in
the music--and this flavour is very sparingly introduced--comes when
Goro (a sort of marriage broker) parades his wares, in the shape of
girls, before the lieutenant. There is here a very distinctive melody
in octaves underneath the vocal part, which is most effective. Several
of the little melodies make an entrance after their first quotation
much after the fashion of the old _ritornello_, which is an interesting
point, among several, to note in Puccini's working out, on quite
modern lines, of his scheme. The themes are often altered, in place
of development, by a change in the time; and at the opening of the
first act several examples are to be found, while here and there an
Eastern character is given to the music by the frequent use of the flat
seventh. Another noteworthy feature is the constant modulation by means
of chords of the seventh.
Sharpless, the friend (a baritone), makes an entry with a fine burst
of melody--the theme, easily recognised on hearing the work, which
is associated with this character, being one particular rhythmic
distinction--and when Pinkerton (the tenor) explains that he has
bought the house, and probably the little lady with it, on an
elastic contract, there is a clever counterpoint in the music to the
introductory fugue. Pinkerton's first chief solo--the music, of course,
runs on continuously from start to finish--is a broad and vocal aria,
quite allied to the old form. The general trend of the music gets
brisker at the entry of Butterfly and her girl friends. Butterfly's
first song, a beautiful "largo," in which she tells of her approaching
happy state, is skilfully blended with the sopranos of the chorus, and
ends with a high D flat for the soloist. The procession and arrival
of Butterfly's relations give an opportunity for some humour in the
music, which is quaint and characteristic, and brings in a clever theme
for the bassoons. Just before the signing of the contract, Butterfly
has a pathetic air, in which she states that, fully believing in
Pinkerton, she has embraced the Christian religion and discards her
native gods. Soon after, a noisy and cantankerous old uncle of the
bride comes in to protest against the union. Here is another of the
few examples of Japanese music, and his entry is shown by a quaint
march of the conventional pattern chiefly in unison. After the guests
leave, Butterfly and Pinkerton have a very tender scene, and begin a
duet of great charm. Butterfly's share continues rather more vigorously
when she is preparing for the marriage chamber, while Pinkerton has a
contemplative air as he admires her pretty movements. The act ends with
a strenuous outburst of love and longing, both voices going up to a
high C sharp by way of a finish.
The second act is in Butterfly's little house, and is divided into two
sections without a change of scene, the curtain being lowered merely
to mark the passage of time. Butterfly and her faithful maid Suzuki
begin to feel the pinch of poverty, and the desertion of Pinkerton is
soon realised, although Butterfly will not believe it. Butterfly has a
characteristic air, vocal but possibly commonplace, and quite typical
of "Young Italy," in which she explains that Pinkerton will come back,
how she will see the smoke of his vessel, and watch him climbing the
hill from the harbour. Sharpless then comes in to try and break the
news, and brings in a former native lover, a Prince, Yamadori, who is
evidently quite willing to accept Butterfly as his spouse and make
her happy. But she simply bids Sharpless to write and tell his friend
Pinkerton that Butterfly and Pinkerton's son await the coming of their
lord and master. The first scene ends with Butterfly, the maid, and the
child sitting up all the night to watch for the arrival of Pinkerton's
vessel. She dresses herself in her wedding garments, and decorates the
little house with flowers. The maid and the child soon fall asleep,
but as the moonlight floods the scene Butterfly remains rigid and
motionless. A delicate instrumental passage in the music gives the
idea of the vigil, in the nature of an intermezzo, and a fresh and
pleasing effect is obtained by the use of a humming with closed lips,
by the chorus outside, of the melody, supported by the somewhat unusual
instrument, a viol d'amore. It is a curious instance, and probably the
first, of the use of this "bouche fermée" effect as an integral part
of the orchestration. For a special effect, Puccini also adds to his
score in another place the Hungarian instrument, a czimbalom, added to
the dulcimer.
The second scene has a rich, picturesque, and gay opening, the voices
of the sailors and the bustle of the vessel's arrival being well shown
in the bright music. The end of the tragedy is near, and is very
pathetic. Pinkerton is full of remorse, and his wife Kate tries to
console Butterfly, but the little Japanese girl, with her heart broken
when she learns that Pinkerton has passed out of her life, decides to
kill herself. She bandages the child's eyes, commits the deed behind a
screen, and then staggers forward to die with her arms about the child.
With Butterfly's farewell to the child the work ends, as Pinkerton
and Sharpless come in to see her die. The music ends with a curious
outburst of Japanese character almost in the nature of an epilogue, and
oddly enough it ends on a chord of the sixth in place of the accustomed
tonic.
All through the music is fresh and interesting, and, provided that
by the setting and general interpretation the necessary picturesque
atmosphere is established, the opera proves singularly attractive. From
the nature of the story, the text reads extremely well in English; in
fact, contrary to usual custom, much of the dialogue is strange in
Italian, in which mellifluous tongue there is no equivalent apparently
for "whisky punch" or "America for ever!"
With this last opera of Puccini we come to the end of the chapter, and
with it, he may fittingly be left to the verdict of those who shall
come after. At the time of writing no one can say with what the gifted
melodist will follow it--whether one of the few themes which have
been mentioned as being in his mind will materialise, or whether the
"Notre Dame" of Victor Hugo, or a certain play of Maxim Gorky's will
eventually come to an achievement. Certain it is, that the present
success of _Madama Butterfly_, with all its progress on the purely
orchestral side, cannot fail to call attention to the earlier works,
particularly _Le Villi_, _Edgar_ and _Manon_, as being compositions of
singular sincerity.
One of Mr. E. A. Baughan's most interesting pieces of criticism, I
think, was that written in the _Outlook_ of July 15, 1905, after
the first production of _Madama Butterfly_ in England. After making
comparison between Puccini and other modern Italians on the subject of
musical expression of a theme, in general, he deals, in characteristic
fashion, with the dramatic structure of the opera in question.