During my researches in Shakespearian music, operatic or other, I have
been often hindered by the strange titles under which works were
hidden. Having a smattering of French, German, Latin, and a tiny bit
of Italian, I could recognise _The Merchant of Venice_ under the title
of _Il Mercante di Venezia_, or _Der Kaufman von Venedig_, or
_Shylock_; but why _Jessica_? Yet there is an opera founded on that
play, called _Jessica_, by a Frenchman named Louis Deffes. _Romeo and
Juliet_ is easy to discover under the title _I Capuletti ed i
Montecchi_; but why _Les Amants de Verone_? _Much Ado About Nothing_
one "spots" at once under the title _Beaucoup de Bruit pour Rien_, or
_Beatrice et Benedict_; but why _Hero_ or _Ero_? _The Tempest_ is
easily discovered as _La Tempesta_, _Die Geisterinsel_, _Der Sturm_, or
_Miranda_, as is _The Winter's Tale_ as _Wintermaerchen_ or _Conte
d'Hiver_; but why did Max Bruch call his opera on the same subject
_Hermione_? _Twelfth Night_ is easy to find as _Was Ihr Wollt_, not so
easy as _Cesario_. Under the fine-sounding title, _Ricardus, Angliae
Rex, ab Henrico Richmondae comite vita, simul et Regno exitus_, we find
an old friend, _Richard III._; and _Timone Misantropo_ almost sounds
like a pet name for _Timon of Athens_. The title _Macbetto_ is a very
thin and seemingly purposeless disguise for _Macbeth_; and _King Lear_
is generally called _Cordelia_, operatically. _The Merry Wives of
Windsor_ is called severally _Le Vieux Coquet, Falstaff, Falstaff,
ossia Letre Burle, Die Lustigen Weibervon Windsor_; and _Antony and
Cleopatra_ is generally named after the lady. But the greatest
surprise I received was when I {18} discovered, lurking under the name
of _Dinah_, Shakespeare's _Cymbeline_!
It is an opera in four acts, book by Michel Carre, jun., and Paul
Choudens, music by +Edmond Missa+. Carre _fils_ is the son of the
well-known librettist of _Faust_ and _Romeo_ fame, and Choudens is
connected with Choudens Fils, who publish this opera; but concerning
the composer, Grove and Riemann are silent. The opera was produced at
the Comedie Parisienne, on June 27, 1894, and was not a success. There
are only five characters, and a chorus of lords and courtesans. The
scene is laid in Venice during the Middle Ages. The characters are
Mentano (Posthumus), Iachimo, Philario, Dinah (Imogen), and Flora, a
courtesan, a high soprano, not occurring in Shakespeare's text.
Cymbeline and the rest of Shakespeare's characters are cut. Boiled
down, the plot is (I will give Shakespeare's names):--Posthumus is the
lover and beloved of Imogen; they are not married secretly, as in the
play; Iachimo is so madly in love with Imogen that he forces a quarrel
on Posthumus, and they fight. Just as Posthumus is about to fall under
the furious attack of Iachimo, Philario enters and separates them.
Iachimo then offers to lay his entire fortune that, within twenty-four
hours, he will bring to Posthumus the bracelet the latter had given to
Imogen, as proof that he is her lover. Posthumus accepts the wager.
In the second act Iachimo creeps into Imogen's sleeping chamber and
steals the bracelet. At the appointed hour Posthumus realises that, in
one fell swoop, he has lost his fortune and his mistress. From this
point the action becomes very obscure, involved, and difficult to
follow. Somehow or other Imogen and Posthumus realise the truth;
Philario mortally wounds Iachimo in a duel, and the curtain falls on
Iachimo apologising handsomely for his shocking behaviour. It will be
noted that there is very little Shakespeare in this version, but,
really, I have given all there is; and were it not that the librettists
have carefully said, "d'apres _Cymbeline_ de Shakespeare," few people
would have noticed it. It is a mystery to me why {19} the authors
changed the beautiful name of Imogen into Dinah. I have always
associated the name of Dinah with coon songs and the kitten in _Through
the Looking-Glass_.
The first act opens in Venice with a canal at the back of the stage.
The gondoliers sing a bad Mascagni chorus, and Flora enters singing in
imitation Italian style. All Flora's part is written in this manner,
and unfortunately the composer has chosen a very bad model to
imitate--good Mascagni is good, but bad is----! The music is in a
curious jumble of styles: sometimes Italian, sometimes pseudo-modern
French, with occasional attempts at Wagnerian imitations--Missa's
constant use of intentional consecutive fifths becomes very wearing
after a time. The music in the masked-ball scene is pretty, and the
duet in which Flora tempts Posthumus is melodious, though the situation
is rather comic. Imogen's song at the opening of the second act is the
best number in the piece, and it is followed by a really good bit of
pantomime music while she is preparing for bed; but on the entrance of
Iachimo all becomes vulgar again. In the last act Iachimo dies to the
tune to which Imogen prepared to go to bed; and if anyone, hearing it,
should remember where he heard it before, it might raise a quiet smile.
The music is admirably suited to the libretto. Both are in the worst
possible taste, and the words "d'apres _Cymbeline_ de Shakespeare" seem
rather in the nature of an outrage. Still, it is the only opera I can
find on the subject, and perhaps on the whole I am glad; a few more
_Cymbeline_ operas in this style might smash the _entente cordiale_.
With the notable exception of the lyric, "Hark, hark, the lark,"
beautifully set to music by +Schubert+, very little attention has been
paid by important composers to the songs in _Cymbeline_. True, more
than a dozen composers, dating from 1750 to the present day, have set
those words, and also the exquisite lyric "Fear no more the heat of the
sun," but with indifferent success. An interesting story {20} of the
composition of "Hark, hark, the lark," by Schubert, is told by the
composer's old friend Doppler. "Returning from a Sunday stroll with
some friends through the village of Waehring, he (Schubert) saw a friend
sitting at a table in the beer-garden of one of the taverns. The
friend, when they joined him, had a volume of Shakespeare on the table.
Schubert seized it and began to read; but, before he had turned over
many pages, pointed to 'Hark, hark, the lark,' and exclaimed, 'Such a
lovely melody has come into my head, if I had but some music paper.'
Someone drew a few staves on the back of the bill of fare; and there,
amid the hubbub of the beer-garden, that beautiful song, so perfectly
fitting the words, so skilful and happy in its accompaniment, came into
perfect existence." Two other songs probably followed the same
evening: the drinking-song from _Antony and Cleopatra_, marked
"Waehring, July 26," and _Who is Sylvia?_ of the same date--a very good
day's work. As for the other settings of these lyrics, +G. A.
Macfarren's+ part-songs for S.A.T.B. are, as is usual with him, very
musicianly but not inspired.
{21}