adapted from Walter Scott's novels, "The Monastery" and "Guy
Mannering," was first produced at the Opera Comique, Dec. 10, 1825,
and was first performed in English under the title of "The White
Maid," at Covent Garden, London, Jan. 2, 1827. The scene of the opera
is laid in Scotland. The Laird of Avenel, a zealous partisan of the
Stuarts, was proscribed after the battle of Culloden, and upon the eve
of going into exile intrusts Gaveston, his steward, with the care of
the castle, and of a considerable treasure which is concealed in a
statue called the White Lady. The traditions affirmed that this lady
was the protectress of the Avenels. All the clan were believers in the
story, and the villagers declared they had often seen her in the
neighborhood. Gaveston, however, does not share their superstition nor
believe in the legend, and some time after the departure of the Laird
he announces the sale of the castle, hoping to obtain it at a low rate
because the villagers will not dare to bid for it through fear of the
White Lady. The steward is led to do this because he has heard the
Laird is dead, and knows there is no heir to the property. Anna, an
orphan girl, who had been befriended by the Laird, determines to
frustrate Gaveston's designs, and appears in the village disguised as
the White Lady. She also writes to Dickson, a farmer, who is indebted
to her, to meet her at midnight in the castle of Avenel. He is too
superstitious to go, and George Brown, a young lieutenant who is
sharing his hospitality, volunteers in his stead. He encounters the
White Lady, and learns from her he will shortly meet a young lady who
has saved his life by her careful nursing after a battle,--Anna
meanwhile recognizing George as the person she had saved. When the day
of sale comes, Dickson is empowered by the farmers to purchase the
castle, so that it may not fall into Gaveston's hands. George and Anna
are there; and the former, though he has not a shilling, buys it under
instructions from Anna. When the time comes for payment, Anna produces
the treasure which had been concealed in the statue, and, still in the
disguise of the White Lady, discovers to him the secret of his birth
during the exile of his parents. Gaveston approaches the spectre and
tears off her veil, revealing Anna, his ward. Moved by the zeal and
fidelity of his father's protégée, George offers her his hand, which,
after some maidenly scruples, she accepts.
The opera is full of beautiful songs, many of them Scotch in
character. In the first act the opening song of George ("Ah, what
Pleasure a Soldier to be!") is very poetical in its sentiment. It also
contains the characteristic ballad of the White Lady, with choral
responses ("Where yon Trees your Eye discovers"), and an exquisitely
graceful trio in the finale ("Heavens! what do I hear?"). The second
act opens with a very plaintive romanza ("Poor Margaret, spin away!"),
sung by Margaret, Anna's old nurse, at her spinning-wheel, as she
thinks of the absent Laird, followed in the fifth scene by a beautiful
cavatina for tenor ("Come, O Gentle Lady"). In the seventh scene is a
charming duet ("From these Halls"), and the act closes with an
ensemble for seven voices and chorus, which has hardly been excelled
in ingenuity of treatment. The third act opens with a charmingly
sentimental aria for Anna ("With what delight I behold"), followed in
the third scene by a stirring chorus of mountaineers, leading up to
"the lay ever sung by the Clan of Avenel,"--the familiar old ballad,
"Robin Adair," which loses a little of its local color under French
treatment, but gains an added grace. It is stated on good authority
that two of Boieldieu's pupils, Adolph Adam and Labarre, assisted him
in the work, and that the lovely overture was written in one
evening,--Boieldieu taking the andante and the two others the
remaining movements. Though a little old-fashioned in some of its
phrasing, the opera still retains its freshness and beautiful
sentiment. Its popularity is best evinced by the fact that up to June,
1875, it had been given 1340 times at the theatre where it was first
produced.
BOITO.
Arrigo Boito was born in 1840, and received his musical education in
the Conservatory at Milan, where he studied for nine years. In 1866 he
became a musical critic for several Italian papers, and about the same
time wrote several poems of more than ordinary merit. Both in
literature and music his taste was diversified; and he combined the
two talents in a remarkable degree in his opera of "Mephistopheles,"
the only work by which he is known to the musical world at large. He
studied Goethe profoundly; and the notes which he has appended to the
score show a most intimate knowledge of the Faust legend. His text is
in one sense polyglot, as he has made use of portions of Marlowe's
"Doctor Faustus," as well as excerpts from Blaze de Bury, Lenau,
Widmann, and others who have treated the legend. He studied Wagner's
music also very closely, and to such purpose that after the first
performance of this opera at La Scala, in 1868, the critics called him
the Italian Wagner, and, in common with the public, condemned both him
and his work. After Wagner's "Lohengrin" had been produced in Italy
and met with success, Boito saw his opportunity to once more bring out
his work. It was performed at Bologna in 1875, and met with an
enthusiastic success. Its introduction to this country is largely due
to Mme. Christine Nilsson, though Mme. Marie Roze was the first artist
to appear in it here.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
"Mephistopheles," grand opera in a prologue, four acts, and epilogue,
words by the composer, was first performed at La Scala, Milan, in
1868. The "Prologue in the Heavens" contains five numbers, a prelude,
and chorus of the mystic choir; instrumental scherzo, preluding the
appearance of Mephistopheles; dramatic interlude, in which he engages
to entrap Faust; a vocal scherzo by the chorus of cherubim; and the
Final Psalmody by the penitents on earth and chorus of spirits. The
prologue corresponds to Goethe's prologue in the heavens, the heavenly
choirs being heard in the background of clouds, accompanied by weird
trumpet-peals and flourishes in the orchestra, and closes with a
finale of magnificent power.
The first act opens in the city of Frankfort, amid the noise of the
crowd and the clanging of holiday bells. Groups of students, burghers,
huntsmen, and peasants sing snatches of chorus. A cavalcade escorting
the Elector passes. Faust and Wagner enter, and retire as the peasants
begin to sing and dance a merry waltz rhythm ("Juhé! Juhé!"). As it
dies away they reappear, Faust being continually followed by a gray
friar,--Mephistopheles in disguise,--whose identity is disclosed by a
motive from the prologue. Faust shudders at his presence, but Wagner
laughs away his fears, and the scene then suddenly changes to Faust's
laboratory, whither he has been followed by the gray friar, who
conceals himself in an alcove. Faust sings a beautiful aria ("Dai
campi, dai prati"), and then, placing the Bible on a lectern, begins
to read. The sight of the book brings Mephistopheles out with a
shriek; and, questioned by Faust, he reveals his true self in a
massive and sonorous aria ("Son lo spirito"). He throws off his
disguise, and appears in the garb of a knight, offering to serve Faust
on earth if he will serve the powers of darkness in hell. The compact
is made, as in the first act of Gounod's "Faust;" and the curtain
falls as Faust is about to be whisked away in Mephistopheles's cloak.
The second act opens in the garden, with Faust (under the name of
Henry), Marguerite, Mephistopheles, and Martha, Marguerite's mother,
strolling in couples. The music, which is of a very sensuous
character, is descriptive of the love-making between Faust and
Marguerite, and the sarcastic passion of Mephistopheles for Martha. It
is mostly in duet form, and closes with a quartet allegretto ("Addio,
fuggo"), which is very characteristic. The scene then suddenly changes
to the celebration of the Witches' Sabbath on the summits of the
Brocken, where, amid wild witch choruses, mighty dissonances, and
weird incantation music, Faust is shown a vision of the sorrow of
Marguerite. It would be impossible to select special numbers from this
closely interwoven music, excepting perhaps the song ("Ecco il mondo")
which Mephistopheles sings when the witches, after their incantation,
present him with a globe of glass which he likens to the earth.
The third act opens in a prison, where Marguerite is awaiting the
penalty for murdering her babe. The action is very similar to that of
the last act of Gounod's "Faust." Her opening aria ("L' altra notte a
fondo al maro") is full of sad longings for the child and insane
moanings for mercy. Faust appeals to her to fly with him, and they
join in a duet of extraordinary sensuous beauty blended with pathos
("lontano, lontano"). Mephistopheles urges Faust away as the day
dawns, and pronounces her doom as she falls and dies, while the
angelic chorus resounding in the orchestra announces her salvation.
In the fourth act a most abrupt change is made, both in a dramatic and
musical sense. The scene changes to the "Night of the Classical
Sabbath" on the banks of the Peneus, amid temples, statues, flowers,
and all the loveliness of nature in Greece. The music also changes
into the pure, sensuous Italian style. Faust, still with
Mephistopheles, pays court to Helen of Troy, who is accompanied by
Pantalis. The opening duet for the latter ("La luna immobile") is one
of exceeding grace and loveliness, and will always be the most popular
number in the work. With the exception of a powerfully dramatic scena,
in which Helen describes the horrors of the destruction of Troy, the
music is devoted to the love-making between Helen and Faust, and bears
no relation in form to the rest of the music of the work, being
essentially Italian in its smooth, flowing, melodious character. At
the close of the classical Sabbath another abrupt change is made, to
the death-scene of Faust, contained in an epilogue. It opens in his
laboratory, where he is reflecting upon the events of his
unsatisfactory life, and contemplating a happier existence in heaven.
Mephistopheles is still by his side as the tempter, offers him his
cloak, and urges him to fly again. The heavenly trumpets which rang
through the prologue are again heard, and the celestial choirs are
singing. Enraged, Mephistopheles summons the sirens, who lure Faust
with all their charms. Faust seizes the Sacred Volume, and declares
that he relies upon its word for salvation. He prays for help against
the demon. His prayer is answered; and as he dies a shower of roses
falls upon his body. The tempter disappears, and the finale of the
prologue, repeated, announces Faust has died in salvation. The opera
as a whole is episodical in its dramatic construction, and the music
is a mixture of two styles,--the Wagnerian and the conventional
Italian; but its orchestration is very bold and independent in
character, and the voice-parts are very striking in their adaptation
to the dramatic requirements.
DELIBES.
Leo Delibes, the French composer, was born at St. Germain du Val in
1836, and was graduated at the Paris Conservatory, where he reached
high distinction. His first work, written in 1855, was an operetta
entitled "Deux Sous de Carbon;" but he did not make his mark until his
"Maitre Griffard" was produced at the Theatre Lyrique in 1857. In 1865
he was appointed Chorus-master at the Opera, and there his real career
began. His first great triumph was in ballet-music, which has ever
since been his specialty. His first ballet, "La Source," was produced
at the Opera, Nov. 12, 1865, and delighted all Paris. It was followed
by a divertisement for the revival of Adam's "Corsaire" (1867), the
ballet "Coppelia" (1870), a three-act opera "Le Roi l'a dit" (1873),
and the exquisite ballet in three acts and five tableaux, "Sylvia"
(1876), with which Theodore Thomas has made American audiences
familiar. His opera "Lakme" was written in 1879.
LAKME.
The romantic opera, "Lakme," written in 1879, was first performed in
this country by the American Opera Company in 1886, Mme. L'Allemand
taking the title-rôle. The principal characters are Lakme, daughter of
Nilakantha, an Indian priest, Gerald and Frederick, officers of the
British Army, Ellen and Rose, daughters of the Viceroy, and Mrs.
Benson, governess. The scene is laid in India. Nilakantha cherishes a
fond hatred of all foreigners. The two English officers, Gerald and
Frederick, accompanied by a bevy of ladies, intrude upon his sacred
grounds. They stroll about and gradually retire, but Gerald remains to
sketch some jewels, which Lakme has left upon a shrine while she goes
flower-gathering with her slave Mallika, evidently also to await
developments when she returns. Lakme soon comes sailing in on her
boat, and there is a desperate case of love at first sight. Their
demonstrations of affection are soon interrupted by the appearance of
the priest, whose anger Gerald escapes by fleeing, under cover of a
convenient thunder-storm. In the next act Lakme and her father appear
in the public market-place, disguised as penitents. He compels his
daughter to sing, hoping that her face and voice will induce her lover
to disclose himself. The ruse proves successful. Nilakantha waits his
opportunity, and stealing upon his enemy stabs him in the back and
makes good his escape. In the third act we find Gerald in a delightful
jungle, where Lakme has in some manner managed to conceal him, and
where she is carefully nursing him with the hope of permanently
retaining his love. She saves his life; but just at this juncture, and
while she is absent to obtain a draught of the water which, according
to the Indian legend, will make earthly love eternal, Gerald hears the
music of his regiment, and Frederick appears and urges him back to
duty. His allegiance to his queen, and possibly the remembrance of his
engagement to a young English girl, prove stronger than his love for
Lakme. The latter returns, discovers his faithlessness, gathers some
poisonous flowers, whose juices she drinks, and dies in Gerald's arms
just as the furious father appears. As one victim is sufficient to
appease the anger of Nilakantha's gods, Gerald is allowed to go
unharmed.
The first act opens with a chorus of Hindoos, oriental in its
character, followed by a duet between Lakme and her father; the scene
closing with a sacred chant. The Hindoos gone, there is a charming
oriental duet ("'Neath yon Dome where Jasmines with the Roses are
blooming") between Lakme and her slave, which is one of the gems of
the opera. The English then appear and have a long, talky scene,
relieved by a pretty song for Frederick ("I would not give a Judgment
so absurd"), and another for Gerald ("Cheating Fancy coming to mislead
me"). As Lakme enters, Gerald conceals himself. She lays her flowers
at the base of the shrine and sings a restless love-song ("Why love I
thus to stray?"). Gerald discovers himself, and after a colloquy sings
his ardent love-song ("The God of Truth so glowing"), and the act
closes with Nilakantha's threats.
The second act opens in the market square, lively with the choruses of
Hindoos, Chinamen, fruit-venders, and sailors, and later on with the
adventures of the English party in the crowd. Nilakantha appears and
addresses his daughter in a very pathetic aria ("Lakme, thy soft Looks
are over-clouded"). Soon follows Lakme's bell-song ("Where strays the
Hindoo Maiden?"), a brilliant and highly embellished aria with
tinkling accompaniment, which will always be a favorite. The
recognition follows; and the remaining numbers of importance are an
impassioned song by Gerald ("Ah! then 't is slumbering Love"), with a
mysterious response by Lakme ("In the Forest near at Hand"). A ballet,
followed by the stabbing of Gerald, closes the act.
In the third act the action hastens to the tragic denouement. It opens
with a beautiful crooning song by Lakme ("'Neath the Dome of Moon and
Star") as she watches her sleeping lover. The remaining numbers of
interest are Gerald's song ("Tho' speechless I, my Heart remembers"),
followed by a pretty three-part chorus in the distance and Lakme's
dying measures, "To me the fairest Dream thou 'st given," and
"Farewell, the Dream is over." Though the opera is monotonous from
sameness of color and lack of dramatic interest, there are many
numbers which leave a charming impression by their grace, refinement,
and genuine poetical effect.
DONIZETTI.
Gaetano Donizetti was born at Bergamo, Italy, Sept. 25, 1798. He
studied music both at Bologna and Naples, and then entered the army
rather than subject himself to the caprice of his father, who was
determined that he should devote himself to church music. While his
regiment was at Naples he wrote his first opera, "Enrico di Borgogna"
(1818), which was soon followed by a second, "Il Falegname de
Livonia." The success of the latter was so great that it not only
freed him from military service but gained him the honor of being
crowned. The first opera which spread his reputation through Europe
was "Anna Bolena," produced at Milan in 1830, and written for Pasta
and Rubini. Two years afterwards, "L' Elisir d' Amore" appeared, which
he is said to have written in fifteen days. He wrote with great
facility. "Il Furioso," "Parisina," "Torquato Tasso," "Lucrezia
Borgia," and "Gemma di Vergi" rapidly followed one another. In 1835 he
brought out "Marino Faliero," but its success was small. Ample
compensation was made, however, when in the same year "Lucia" appeared
and was received with acclamations of delight. He was invited to Paris
as the successor of Rossini, and wrote his "Marino Faliero" for the
Theatre des Italiens. In 1840 he revisited Paris and produced "Il
Poliuto," "La Fille du Regiment," and "La Favorita." Leaving Paris he
visited Rome, Milan, and Vienna, bringing out "Linda di Chamouni" in
the latter city. Returning to Paris again, he produced "Don Pasquale"
at the Théâtre des Italiens and "Don Sebastien" at the Académie, the
latter proving a failure. His last opera, "Catarina Comaro," was
brought out at Naples in 1844. This work also was a failure. It was
evident that his capacity for work was over. He grew sad and
melancholy, and during the last three years of his life was attacked
by fits of abstraction which gradually intensified and ended in
insanity and physical paralysis. He died at Bergamo, April 8, 1848.
THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT.
"The Daughter of the Regiment" ("La Fille du Regiment") opera comique
in two acts, words by Bayard and St. Georges, was first produced at
the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 11, 1840, with Mme. Anna Thillon in the
rôle of Marie. Its first performance in English was at the Surrey
Theatre, London, Dec. 21, 1847, under the title of "The Daughter of
the Regiment," in which form it is best known in this country. In 1847
it was performed as an Italian opera in London, with added
recitatives, and with Jenny Lind in the leading part.
The music of the opera is light and sparkling, the principal interest
centring in the charming nature of the story and its humorous
situations, which afford capital opportunities for comedy acting. The
scene is laid in the Tyrol during its occupation by the French. Marie,
the heroine, and the vivandière of the Twenty-first regiment of
Napoleon's army, was adopted as the Daughter of the Regiment, because
she was found on the field, after a battle, by Sergeant Sulpice. On
her person was affixed a letter written by her father to the
Marchioness of Berkenfeld, which has been carefully preserved by the
Sergeant. At the beginning of the opera the little waif has grown into
a sprightly young woman, full of mischief and spirit, as is shown by
her opening song ("The Camp was my Birthplace"), in which she tells
the story of her life, and by the duet with Sulpice, known the world
over as "The Rataplan," which is of a very animated, stirring, and
martial character, to the accompaniment of rattling drums and sonorous
brasses. She is the special admiration of Tony, a Tyrolean peasant,
who has saved her from falling over a precipice. The soldiers of the
regiment are profuse in their gratitude to her deliverer, and
celebrate her rescue with ample potations, during which Marie sings
the Song of the Regiment ("All Men confess it"). Poor Tony, however,
who was found strolling in the camp, is placed under arrest as a spy,
though he succeeds in obtaining an interview with Marie and declares
his love for her. The declaration is followed by a charming duet ("No
longer can I doubt it"). Tony manages to clear up his record, and the
soldiers decide that he may have Marie's hand if he will consent to
join them. He blithely accepts the condition and dons the French
cockade. Everything seems auspicious, when suddenly the Marchioness of
Berkenfeld appears and dashes Tony's hopes to the ground. The
Sergeant, as in honor bound, delivers the letter he has been
preserving. After reading it she claims Marie as her niece, and
demands that the regiment shall give up its daughter, while Tony is
incontinently dismissed as an unsuitable person to be connected in any
capacity with her noble family. Marie sings a touching adieu to her
comrades ("Farewell, a long Farewell"), and the act closes with
smothered imprecations on the Marchioness by the soldiers, and
protestations of undying love by Tony.
The second act opens in the castle of Berkenfeld, where Marie is duly
installed, though she does not take very kindly to her change of
surroundings. The old Sergeant is with her. Grand company is expected,
and the Marchioness desires Marie to rehearse a romance ("The Light of
Early Days was breaking"), which she is to sing to them.
Before she finishes it she and the Sergeant break out into the
rollicking Rataplan and go through with the military evolutions, to
the horror of the Marchioness. While regret for the absent Tony keeps
her in a sad mood, she is suddenly cheered up by the sound of drums
and fifes, announcing the approach of soldiers. They are the gallant
Twenty-first, with Tony, now a colonel, at their head. He applies once
more for Marie's hand. The soldiers also put in a spirited choral
appeal ("We have come, our Child to free"). The Marchioness again
refuses. Tony proposes an elopement, to which Marie, in resentment at
her aunt's cruelty, consents. To thwart their plans, the Marchioness
reveals to Marie that early in life she had been secretly married to
an officer of lower family position than her own, and that this
officer was Marie's father. Unable to dispute the wishes of her
mother, she renounces Tony in an agony of grief. At last Marie's
sorrow arouses old associations in the mind of the Marchioness, and
she consents to the union of Tony and Marie.
While the music of the opera is light, it is none the less very
attractive, and the work is nearly always popular when performed by
good artists, owing to the comedy strength of the three leading parts,
Marie, Tony, and the Sergeant. The rôle of the heroine, small as it
is, has always been a favorite one with such great artists as Jenny
Lind, Patti, Sontag, and Albani, while in this country Miss Kellogg
and Mrs. Richings-Bernard made great successes in the part. The latter
singer, indeed, and her father, whose personation of the Sergeant was
very remarkable, were among the first to perform the work in the
United States.
LA FAVORITA.