Leghorn, Dec. 7, 1863. His father was a baker, and had planned for his
son a career in the legal profession; but, as often happens, fate
ordered otherwise. His tastes were distinctly musical, and his
determination to study music was encouraged by Signor Bianchi, a
singing teacher, who recognized his talent. For a time he took
lessons, unknown to his father, of Soffredini, but when it was
discovered he was ordered to abandon music and devote himself to the
law. At this juncture his uncle Stefano came to his rescue, took him
to his house, provided him with a piano, and also with the means to
pursue his studies. Recognizing the uselessness of further objections,
the father at last withdrew them, and left his son free to follow his
own pleasure. He progressed so rapidly under Soffredini that he was
soon engaged in composition, his first works being a symphony in C
minor and a "Kyrie," which were performed in 1879. In 1881 he composed
a cantata, "In Filanda," and a setting of Schiller's hymn, "An die
Freude," both of which had successful public performances. The former
attracted the attention of a rich nobleman who furnished young
Mascagni with the means to attend the Milan Conservatory. After
studying there a short time, he suddenly left Milan with an operatic
troupe, and visited various Italian cities, a pilgrimage which was of
great value to him, as it made him acquainted with the resources of an
orchestra and the details of conducting. The troupe, however, met with
hard fortunes, and was soon disbanded, throwing Mascagni upon the
world. For a few years he made a precarious living in obscure towns,
by teaching, and had at last reached desperate extremities when one
day he read in a newspaper that Sonzogno, the music publisher, had
offered prizes for the three best one act operas, to be performed in
Rome. He at once entered into the competition, and produced
"Cavalleria Rusticana." It took the first prize. It did more than this
for the impecunious composer. When performed, it made a success of
enthusiasm. He was called twenty times before the curtain. Honors and
decorations were showered upon him. He was everywhere greeted with
serenades and ovations. Every opera-house in Europe clamored for the
new work. In a day he had risen from utter obscurity and become
world-famous. His sudden popularity, however, had a pernicious effect,
as it induced him to rush out more operas without giving sufficient
time to their preparation. "L'Amico Fritz," based upon the well-known
Erckmann-Chatrian story, and "I Rantzau" quickly followed "Cavalleria
Rusticana," but did not meet with its success. Last year however he
produced two operas at Milan, "Guglielmo Ratcliff" and "Silvano,"
which proved successful. Whether "Cavalleria Rusticana" is to remain
as his only hold upon popular favor, the future alone can tell; but
that he has talent of the highest order, and that he has produced an
opera whose reception has been almost unparalleled in the world of
music cannot be questioned.
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA.
"Cavalleria Rusticana," an opera in one act, words by Signori
Targioni-Tozzetti and Menasci, music by Pietro Mascagni, was written
in 1890, and was first performed at the Costanzi Theatre in Rome, May
20, of that year, with Gemma Bellinconi and Roberto Stagno in the two
principal rôles. It had its first American production in Philadelphia,
Sept. 9, 1891, with Mme. Kronold as _Santuzza_, Miss Campbell as
_Lola_, Guille as _Turridu_, Del Puente as _Alfio_, and Jeannie Teal
as _Lucia_.
The story upon which the text of "Cavalleria Rusticana" is based is
taken from a Sicilian tale by Giovanni Verga. It is peculiarly Italian
in its motive, running a swift, sure gamut of love, flirtation,
jealousy, and death,--a melodrama of a passionate and tragic sort,
amid somewhat squalid environments, that particularly lends itself to
music of Mascagni's forceful sort. The overture graphically presents
the main themes of the opera, and these themes illustrate a very
simple but strong story. Turridu, a young Sicilian peasant, arrived
home from army service, finds that his old love, Lola, during his
absence has married Alfio, a carter. To console himself he makes love
to Santuzza, who returns his passion with ardor. The inconstant
Turridu, however, soon tires of her and makes fresh advances to Lola,
who, inspired by her jealousy of Santuzza, and her natural coquetry,
smiles upon him again. The latter seeks to reclaim him, and, when she
is rudely repulsed, tells the story of Lola's perfidy to Alfio, who
challenges Turridu and kills him.
During the overture Turridu sings a charming Siciliana ("O Lola c'hai
di latti"), and the curtain rises, disclosing a Sicilian village with
a church decorated for Easter service. As the sacristan opens its
doors, the villagers appear and sing a hymn to the Madonna. A hurried
duet follows, in which Santuzza reveals to mother Lucia her grief at
the perfidy of Turridu. Her discourse is interrupted by the entrance
of Alfio, singing a rollicking whip-song ("Il cavallo scalpita") with
accompaniment of male chorus. The scene then develops into a trio,
closing with a hymn ("Inneggiamo, il Signor"), sung by the people in
the square, and led by Santuzza herself, and blending with the "Regina
Coeli," performed by the choir inside the church with organ
accompaniment, the number finally working up into a tremendous climax
in genuine Italian style.
In the next scene Santuzza tells her sad story to Lucia, Turridu's
mother, in a romanza of great power ("Voi lo sapete"), closing with an
outburst of the highest significance as she appeals to Lucia to pray
for her. In the next scene Turridu enters. Santuzza upbraids him, and
a passionate duet follows in which Santuzza's suspicions are more than
confirmed by his avowal of his passion for Lola. The duet is
interrupted by a song of the latter, heard in the distance with harp
accompaniment ("Fior di giaggiolo"). As she approaches the pair the
song grows livelier, and at its close she banters poor Santuzza with
biting sarcasms, and assails Turridu with all the arts of coquetry.
She passes into the church, confident that the infatuated Turridu will
follow her. An impassioned duo of great power follows, in which
Santuzza pleads with him to love her, but all in vain. He rushes into
the church. She attempts to follow him, but falls upon the steps just
as Alfio comes up. To him she relates the story of her troubles, and
of Turridu's baseness. Alfio promises to revenge her, and another
powerful duet follows.
As they leave the stage, there is a sudden and most unexpected change
in the character of the music and the motive of the drama. In the
place of struggle, contesting passions, and manifestations of rage,
hate, and jealousy ensues an intermezzo for orchestra, with an
accompaniment of harps and organ, of the utmost simplicity and
sweetness, breathing something like a sacred calm, and turning the
thoughts away from all this human turmoil into conditions of peace and
rest. It has not only become one of the most favorite numbers in the
concert repertory, but is ground out from every barrel-organ the world
over, and yet it has retained its hold upon popular admiration.
At its close the turmoil begins again and the action hastens to the
tragic dénouement. The people come out of the church singing a glad
chorus which is followed by a drinking song ("Viva il vino"), sung by
Turridu, and joined in by Lola and chorus. In the midst of the
hilarity Alfio appears. Turridu invites him to join them and drink;
but he refuses, and the quarrel begins. Lola and the frightened women
withdraw. Turridu bites Alfio's right ear,--a Sicilian form of
challenge. The scene closes with the death of the former at Alfio's
hands, and Santuzza is avenged; but the fickle Lola has gone her way
bent upon other conquests.
MEYERBEER.
Giacomo Meyerbeer, the eldest son of Herz Beer, was born in Berlin,
Sept. 5, 1794. He was named Jacob Meyer Beer, but afterwards called
himself Giacomo Meyerbeer. His early studies were pursued with the
pianist Lanska, and Bernard Anselm Weber, chief of the Berlin
orchestra. At fifteen he became the pupil of Vogler in Darmstadt, with
whom he displayed such talent in composition that he was named
Composer to the Court by the Grand Duke. At eighteen his first
dramatic work, "The Daughter of Jephtha," was performed at Munich. He
then began the world for himself, and made his début in Vienna as a
pianist with great success. His first opera, "The Two Caliphs," met
with complete failure, as it was not written in the Italian form. He
at once transformed his style and brought out "Romilda e Costanza," a
serio-comic opera, with great success, at Padua. In 1820, "Emma di
Resburgo" appeared at Venice, and from this period his star was in the
ascendant. "The Gate of Brandeburg," "Margharita d' Anjou," "Esule di
Granata," and "Almanzar" followed in quick succession, and were well
received, though with nothing like the furor which "Il Crociato in
Egitto" created in Venice in 1824. His next great work, "Robert le
Diable," was produced in Paris, Nov. 21, 1831, the unparalleled
success of which carried its fame to every part of the civilized
world. In 1836 "The Huguenots," unquestionably his masterpiece, was
brought out, and it still holds its place as one of the grandest
dramatic works the world has ever seen. In 1838 Scribe furnished him
the libretto of "L'Africaine," but before the music was finished he
had changed the text so much that Scribe withdrew it altogether. He
was consoled, however, by Meyerbeer's taking from him the libretto of
"Le Prophete," this opera being finished in 1843. During the following
year he wrote several miscellaneous pieces besides the three-act
German opera, "Ein Feldlager in Schlesien," in which Jenny Lind made
her Berlin début. In 1846 he composed the overture and incidental
music to his brother's drama of "Struensee," and in 1847 he not only
prepared the way for Wagner's "Flying Dutchman" in Paris, but
personally produced "Rienzi,"--services which Wagner poorly requited.
In 1849 "Le Prophete" was given in Paris; in 1854, "L'Etoile du Nord;"
and in 1859, "Dinorah;" but none of them reached the fame of "The
Huguenots." In 1860 he wrote two cantatas and commenced a musical
drama called "Goethe's Jugendzeit," which was never finished. In 1862
and 1863 he worked upon "L'Africaine," and at last brought it forward
as far as a rehearsal; but he died April 23, 1863, and it was not
performed until two years after his death.
THE HUGUENOTS.
"Les Huguenots," a grand opera in five acts, words by Scribe and
Deschamps, was first produced at the Académie, Paris, Feb. 29, 1836,
with the following cast of the principal parts:--
VALENTIN Mlle. FALCON.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS Mme. DORUS-GRAS.
URBAIN Mlle. FLECHEUX.
COUNT DE ST. BRIS M. LERDA.
COUNT DE NEVERS M. DERIVIS.
RAOUL DE NANGIS M. NOURRIT.
MARCEL M. LEVASSEUR.
At its first production in London in Italian, as "Gli Ugonotti," July
20, 1848, the cast was even more remarkable than that above. Meyerbeer
specially adapted the opera for the performance, transposed the part
of the page, which was written for a soprano, and expressly composed a
cavatina to be sung by Mme. Alboni, in the scene of the château and
gardens of Chenonceaux, forming the second act of the original work,
but now given as the second scene of the first act in the Italian
version. The cast was as follows:--
VALENTIN Mme. PAULINE VIARDOT.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS Mme. CASTELLAN.
URBAIN Mlle. ALBONI.
COUNT DE ST. BRIS Sig. TAMBURINI.
COUNT DE NEVERS Sig. TAGLIAFICO.
RAOUL DE NANGIS Sig. MARIO.
MARCEL Sig. MARINI.
The action of the opera passes in 1572, the first and second acts in
Touraine, and the remainder in Paris. The first act opens on a scene
of revelry in the salon of Count de Nevers, where a number of
noblemen, among them Raoul de Nangis, a Protestant, accompanied by his
faithful old Huguenot servant, Marcel, are present, telling stories of
their exploits in love. Marguerite de Valois, the betrothed of Henry
IV., for the sake of reconciling the dispute between the two religious
sects, sends her page to De Nevers's salon and invites Raoul to her
château. When he arrives, Marguerite informs him of her purpose to
give him in marriage to a Catholic lady, daughter of the Count de St.
Bris. Raoul at first consents; but when Valentin is introduced to him
and he discovers her to be a lady whom he had once rescued from insult
and who had visited De Nevers in his salon, he rejects the
proposition, believing that her affections have been bestowed upon
another, and that his enemies are seeking to entrap him. St. Bris
challenges Raoul for the affront, but the Queen disarms the angry
combatants. Valentin is now urged to marry Count de Nevers, and begs
that she may pass the day in prayer in the chapel. Meanwhile Count de
St. Bris, who has been challenged by Raoul, forms a plot for his
assassination, which is overheard by Valentin from within the chapel.
She communicates the plot to Marcel, who lies in wait with a party of
Huguenots in the vicinity of the duel, and comes to Raoul's rescue
when danger threatens him. A general combat is about to ensue, but it
is suppressed by Marguerite, who suddenly appears upon the scene.
Raoul thus discovers that he owes his life to Valentin, and that her
visit to De Nevers was to induce him to sever the relations between
them, as she was in love with Raoul. The announcement comes too late,
for the marriage festivities have already begun. Raoul visits her for
the last time. Their interview is disturbed by the approach of De
Nevers, St. Bris, and other Catholic noblemen, who meet to arrange the
details of the plot conceived by Catherine de Médicis for the
slaughter of the Huguenots on St. Bartholomew's Eve. Valentin
hurriedly conceals Raoul behind the tapestries, where he overhears
their plans and witnesses the conjuration and the blessing of the
swords, as well as the refusal of the chivalrous De Nevers to engage
in murder. After the conspirators have departed, Raoul and Valentin
have a long and affecting interview, in which he hesitates between
love and honor, Valentin striving to detain him lest he may be
included in the general massacre. Honor at last prevails, and he joins
his friends just before the work of slaughter begins. He rushes to the
festivities which are about to be given in honor of the marriage of
Marguerite with the King of Navarre, and warns the Huguenots of their
danger. He then makes his way to a chapel where many of them are
gathered for refuge. He finds Marcel, who has been wounded, and who
brings him the tidings of the death of De Nevers. The faithful
Valentin joins them to share their fate. Amid the horrors of the
massacre Marcel blesses and unites them. They enter the church and all
perish together.
The first act opens with the brilliant chorus of the revellers
("Piacer della mensa"), which is full of courtly grace. Raoul tells
the story of the unknown fair one he has encountered, in the romanza,
"Piu bianca del velo." When Marcel is called upon, he hurriedly chants
the hymn, "O tu che ognor," set to the Martin Luther air, "Ein feste
Burg," and heightened by a stirring accompaniment, and then bursts out
into a graphic song ("Finita è pe' frati"), emphasized with the
piff-paff of bullets and full of martial fervor. In delightful
contrast with the fierce Huguenot song comes the lively and graceful
romanza of Urbain ("Nobil donna e tanto onesta"), followed by a
delightful septet. The scene now changes, and with it the music. We
are in the Queen's gardens at Chenonceaux. Every number, the Queen's
solo ("A questa voce sola"), the delicate "Bathers' Chorus," as it is
called ("Audiam, regina, in questo amene sponde"), the brilliant and
graceful allegretto sung by Urbain ("No, no, no, no"), the duet
between the Queen and Raoul, based upon one of the most flowing of
melodies, and the spirited and effective finale in which the nobles
take the oath of allegiance ("Per la fè, per l'onore"),--each and
every one of these is colored with consummate skill, while all are
invested with chivalrous refinement and stately grace.
The second act opens with a beautiful choral embroidery in which
different choruses, most striking in contrast, are interwoven with
masterly skill. It is a picture, in music, of the old Paris. The
citizens rejoice over their day's work done. The Huguenots shout their
lusty Rataplan, while the Papist maidens sing their solemn litany
("Ave Maria") on their way to chapel; and as they disappear, the
quaint tones of the curfew chant are heard, and night and rest settle
down upon the city. It is a striking introduction to what
follows,--the exquisite duet between Marcel and Valentin, the great
septet of the duel scene, beginning, "De dritti miei ho l'alma
accesa," with the tremendous double chorus which follows as the two
bands rush upon the scene. As if for relief from the storm of this
scene, the act closes with brilliant pageant music as De Nevers
approaches to escort Valentin to her bridal.
The third act is the climax of the work, and stands almost unrivalled
in the field of dramatic music, for the manner in which horror and
passion are illustrated. After a dark and despairing aria by Valentin
("Eccomi sola ormai"), and a brief duet with Raoul, the conspirators
enter. The great trio, closing with the conjuration, "Quel Dio," the
awful and stately chant of the monks in the blessing of the unsheathed
daggers ("Sia gloria eterna e onore"), and the thrilling unisons of
the chorus ("D'un sacro zel l'ardore"), which fairly glow with energy,
fierceness, and religious fury,--these numbers of themselves might
have made an act; but Meyerbeer does not pause here. He closes with a
duet between Raoul and Valentin which does not suffer in comparison
with the tremendous combinations which have preceded it. It is filled
with the alternations of despair and love, of grief and ecstasy. In
its movement it is the very whirlwind of passion. Higher form dramatic
music can hardly reach. In the Italian version the performance usually
closes at this point; but there is still another striking and powerful
scene, that in which Raoul and Valentin are united by the dying
Marcel. Then the three join in a sublime trio, and for the last time
chant together the old Lutheran psalm, and await their fate amid the
triumphant harpings that sound from the orchestra and the hosanna they
sing to its accompaniment.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
"L'Étoile du Nord," an opera in three acts, words by Scribe, was first
performed at the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 16, 1854, and in Italian
as "La Stella del Nord" at Covent Garden, London, July 19, 1855. In
English it has been produced under the title of "The Star of the
North." The opera contains several numbers from the composer's earlier
work, "Feldlager in Schlesien," which was written for the opening of
the Berlin opera-house, in memory of Frederick the Great, and was
subsequently (Feb. 17, 1847) performed with great success in Vienna,
Jenny Lind taking the rôle of Vielka. The "Feldlager," however, has
never been given out of Germany.
The action of the opera transpires in Wyborg, on the Gulf of Finland,
in the first act, at a camp of the Russians in the second, and at the
palace of the Czar Peter in the third. In the first, Peter, who is
working at Wyborg, disguised as a carpenter, makes the acquaintance of
Danilowitz, a pastry-cook, and Catharine, a cantiniere, whose brother
George is about to marry Prascovia. Catharine brings about this
marriage; and not only that, but saves the little village from an
invasion by a strolling horde of Tartars, upon whose superstition she
practises successfully, and so conducts herself in general that Peter
falls in love with her, and they are betrothed, though she is not
aware of the real person who is her suitor. Meanwhile the conscription
takes place, and to save her newly wedded brother she volunteers for
fifteen days in his place, disguising herself as a soldier. In the
next act we find Catharine going her rounds as a sentinel in the
Russian camp on the Finnish frontier. Peter and Danilowitz are also
there, and are having a roistering time in their tent, drinking and
making love to a couple of girls. Hearing Peter's voice she recognizes
it, and curiosity leads her to peep into the tent. She is shocked at
what she beholds, neglects her duty, and is found by the corporal in
this insubordinate condition. He remonstrates with her, and she
answers with a slap on his ears, for which she incurs the penalties of
disobedience to orders as well as insulting behavior to her superior
officer. Peter at last is roused from his drunkenness by the news of
an insurrection among his own soldiers and the approach of the enemy.
He rushes out and promises to give Peter into their hands if they will
obey and follow _him_. At last, struck with his bearing and authority,
they demand to know who he is, whereupon he declares himself the Czar.
The mutiny is at once quelled. They submit, and offer their lives as
warrant for their loyalty. The last act opens in the Czar's palace,
where his old companion, Danilowitz, has been installed in high favor.
Catharine, however, has disappeared. George and Prascovia arrive from
Finland, but they know nothing of her. The faithful Danilowitz finds
her, but she has lost her reason. Her friends try to restore it by
surrounding her with recollections of home, and Peter at last succeeds
by playing upon his flute the airs he used to play to her in Finland.
Her senses come back, and thus all ends happily; for Catharine and
Peter are at last united amid the acclamations of the people.
In the first act the character of Peter is well expressed in the
surly, growling bass of his soliloquy ("Vedra, vedra"). It is followed
by a characteristic drinking-chorus ("Alla Finlanda, beviam"), a wild,
barbaric rhythm in the minor, which passes into a prayer as they
invoke the protection of Heaven upon Charles XII. In the eighth scene
occur the couplets of Gritzensko as he sings the wild song of the
Kalmucks. In charming contrast, in the next scene, Catharine sings the
gypsy rondo, which Jenny Lind made so famous ("Wlastla la santa"),
which is characterized by graceful coquetry; and this in turn is
followed by a striking duet between Catharine and Peter, in which the
individual characteristics of the two are brought out in genuine
Wagnerian style. In the thirteenth scene occurs the bridal song of
Prascovia ("Al suono dell'ora"), with choral accompaniment, of a
delicate and coquettish cast, leading up to the finale, beginning with
the soldiers' chorus ("Onor che a gloria"), with an accompaniment of
drums and fifes, again passing to a pathetic prayer ("Veglia dal ciel
su lor") sung by Catharine amid the ringing of bells as the bridal
wreath is placed upon Prascovia's head, and closing with a florid
barcarole ("Vascel che lasci") as she sails away.
The second act opens with ballet music, full of Eastern color, and
then ensues one of those choral combinations, like that in the second
act of "the Huguenots," in which Meyerbeer so much delighted,--a
cavalry chorus ("Bel cavalier del cuor d'acciar"), followed by the
Grenadier's song, accompanied by chorus ("Granadier di Russia
esperti"), the chorus taking up the "tr-r-r-um" refrain in imitation
of the drum. In the eighth scene we have the orgy in the tent in the
form of a very spirited dramatic trio, in which Peter sings a blithe
drinking-song ("Vedi al par del rubino"); this in turn resolving into
a quintet ("Vezzose vivandiere"), and again into a sextet, as
Ismailoff enters with a letter for the Czar. The finale is a superb
military picture, made up of the imposing oath of death to the tyrant,
the stirring Dessauer march, the cavalry fanfare, and the Grenadiers'
march, interwoven with the chorus of women as they cheer on the
marching soldiers.
The third act opens with a romanza ("Dal cor per iscacciare"), very
tender and beautiful, in which the rugged Czar shows us the
sentimental side of his character. In the third scene occurs a long
buffo trio between Peter, Gritzensko, and Danilowitz, which is full of
humor. In the finale we have Catharine in the mad scene, singing the
scena, "L'aurora alfin succede," with bits of the old music running
through the accompaniment; and in the final scene, as her reason
returns, breaking out in the florid bravura, "Non s'ode alcun,"
accompanied by the first and second flutes, which is a triumph of
virtuosity for the voice. This number was taken from "The Camp in
Silesia," and was given by Jenny Lind with immense success, not only
in the latter work, but upon the concert stage. The opera as a whole
abounds in humor, its music is fresh and brilliant, and its military
character makes it specially attractive.
ROBERT THE DEVIL