In 1856, at the Lyric, Paris,Adolphe Adamproduced his one-act comic operaFalstaffe, with a libretto by MM. Saint Georges and Leunen. He was born in Paris in 1803, and was a pupil of Boieldieu at the Conservatoire. The music is very light and fairly melodious, but quite unambitious, and has been described by a French musical critic, very justly, as mediocre. There is a valse in it which was popular for a time, and a few catchy numbers, but the critic was right—mediocre is the word.
There is a song byJ. L. Hattonentitled "Falstaff's Song: Give me a cup of sack, boy." But I cannot find the words in my edition of Shakespeare's plays and poems. It begins:
A full, flowing cup of old sack give me, boy;For sack clears the head, clears the heart.
I don't think the words are Shakespeare's, in spite of the printed title-page before me. The music is in the composer's well-known "Simon the Cellarer" style; only, unfortunately, the tune is not so good. The words get sillier as the song continues, so that if I had been the boy I should have given the singer prussic acid instead of the sack he so repeatedly calls for.
From a musical point of view one of the most important of Shakespeare's plays isA Midsummer Night's Dream. It is possible to use nothing but Mendelssohn's music for this play, but I have never heard it in England without additional numbers. Sir Frank Benson, in his poetical production, used all the original music, but also included a song by Cooke, "Over hill, over dale," for the first singing fairy, and a duet, "I know a bank," by Horn, for first and second singing fairies: the latter a very boring work and quite out of keeping with the rest of the music. There is no reason why these words should be sung at all: they should be spoken by Oberon. Sir Herbert Tree had them sung to the tune of "Auf Flügeln des Gesanges"—certainly by Mendelssohn, but the effect was very distressing. Most producers use the Spring Song and Bee's Wedding as fairy dances, and this effect is quite legitimate and absolutely in the picture with the rest of the score. Mendelssohn is at the top of his form in this music, and here is no Shakespearian Old English Wardour Street style: it is just Mendelssohn at his best, and a very good best it is. With careful arrangement it can be played on a small orchestra, and is a tremendous help to the success of the play. There is bound to be a long wait between the first and second acts—the change from Athens to the Forest—and Weber's overture toOberonis very effective here; and, although scored much more brilliantly than the Mendelssohn music, does not seem out of place, and fills in what would else be a very tiresome interval. SeveralEnglish composers have set the fairy chorus, "You spotted snakes," as a glee for mixed voices; but I never quite fancy fairies singing tenor or bass, and consider Mendelssohn was very wise to stick to women's and children's voices only.
Mendelssohnwas only seventeen when he wrote the overture, but the rest of the music was composed much later, at the request of the King of Prussia, and first produced at the New Palace, Potsdam, in 1843. His critical German friends took him much to task for wasting such beautiful music on such a foolish play, but I don't think he ever regretted it. There is a fine ophicleide part in the overture, giving the idea of the clumsy Bottom among the fairies. Mendelssohn chose this instrument because it blends with no other instrument on earth, and really knew what he was doing; but, because of its very quality of tone, for which he chose it, modern conductors have cut it out and substituted a bass trombone or tuba, both of which blend quite prettily with the other instruments. I am speaking of a few years ago; there are hardly any ophicleide players left now.
I suppose the great majority of Christians in the world have been "Mendelssohned," as Kipling has it, out of church once in their lives, and I daresay that is why many people talk sniffily about the "Wedding March."
I am going to make a dreadful confession. Once at a small theatre I did the whole of the Mendelssohn music to theDream, excepting the scherzo, on a band of eighteen, and it didn't sound half bad. The parts were carefully cross-cued, and everyone was very busy, but I was very proud of the general effect. Of course, the orchestra was almost beneath the stage, which was a great help. The players—they were picked men—consisted of single wood wind, one horn, two trumpets, one trombone, and drums, four first violins, two second, viola, 'cello, and bass. Incidentally we threw in Weber'sOberonoverture. I know this sounds like vandalism to read about, but it didn't sound so in the theatre.
Purcellwrote music to a perversion of theDreamproduced in 1692 (see above, p. 12), and in some strange manner managed not to set a single line of Shakespeare.
John Christopher Smith, composer of an opera calledThe Fairies, founded onA Midsummer Night's Dream, was born at Anspach in 1712, but came to England as a boy with his father, who was Handel's treasurer and agent for the sale of his music. At the age of thirteen he became a pupil of Handel, and, when his master went blind, his amanuensis.The Fairieswas produced in 1754, and on the title-page of the score is written, "the words taken from Shakespeare," but not by whom. Also, unfortunately, as was the manner at the time, the name of the singer is printed, but not that of the character; however, it is usually possible to get a fairly shrewd idea, from the gist of the words, who is singing. This music is strictly Handelian, though the score as a whole shows greater pains and industry than is generally displayed by his great master. The overture has an introduction, fugue, tuneful minuet, and a fine march in D major after the manner of Handel'sScipiomarch. The first song is for tenor, with trumpetobbligato, and, I think, must be intended for Theseus. The words run, "Pierce the air with sounds of joy, Come Hymen with the winged boy, Bring song and dance and revelry." From this I take it that Theseus was preparing for his wedding. It is a very stirring, florid air, and, given a robust tenor and a first-rate trumpeter, makes a good opening for the opera. Helena sings next a song with a very pathetic middle part, saying how she scorns to hide her love. Lysander (baritone) has a brisk song about the joys of country life, followed by Helena, singing, sadly, "O Hermia fair; O happy, happy fair"; and Mr Smith sets four lines of Shakespeare's text. Hermia's next air is not very interesting, so we will pass on to a graceful setting of the words, "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind," sung by Helena or Hermia, I can't settle which;the words are correct text, and very respectfully set. Puck, taken by a boy, now sings, "Where the bee sucks"—quite a new setting to me, and a charming one, too. Here follows an orchestral interlude, called "Sinfonia," for strings, with two independent oboe parts. I don't know if it is meant to be played with the curtain up for business, but rather think it is intended for scene-change music. Titania sings a very "fairy" song, words not by Shakespeare, to her fairies, telling them to follow her; and Oberon, a boy singer, does the same office, in a florid air, for his fairies. Helena, who seems to have too much to do, now has another pathetic song; Titania sings herself to sleep with "You spotted snakes," with slight verbal alterations to make sense. The human lovers become rather tedious here, as they do sometimes in the play; they have several sentimental love-songs and duets, so we welcome Oberon and his fairies. His number, "Now until the break of day," is really beautiful and most fairylike, and brings the second act to a charming close. Oberon sings "Flower of this purple dye" to a solemnlargomelody, and the mortals take up the tale again. Oberon sings a setting of "Sigh no more, ladies" very interestingly, and sticks closely to the text; it certainly might have been written by Handel, but is none the worse for that. Puck sings "Up and down" to thoroughly suitable music while he chases the foolish lovers about the forest; after which Titania obliges with "Orpheus with his lute," with oboeobbligato, quite one of the best numbers in the piece and one of the best settings of these much ill-used lines—the close of the second verse is exquisitely done. A hunting "Sinfonia" heralds the last scene, with a couple of fine solo horn parts. This introduces a bold march for the entrance of Theseus, who has a lusty hunting-song with an elaborate orchestral accompaniment. Hermia now has an unnecessary song, "Love's a tempest," and the opera closes joyfully with a solo and chorus to the words "Hail to love and welcome joy." So ends a work I should very much like to have seen. There is no sign of the clowns inthe score, so I fear Smith's librettist cut them out; but the music is all by one composer and all in one style. There is none of the horrible jostling of periods that annoys one in Bishop's pasticcio Shakespearian operas, and the text is quite as near the original as Bishop's.
If Christopher Smith omitted the clowns, his fellow-countryman,John Frederick Lampe, composed a mock-opera, entitledPyramus and Thisbe, the words freely taken from Shakespeare, which was produced at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, in 1745. Johann Friedrich Lampe was born at Helmstadt, Saxony, in 1703. He came to England as a bassoon player at the opera, and married Isabella Young, a famous singer, sister of Dr Arne's wife. He soon settled down in London as a composer, and made a tremendous success with his operaThe Dragon of Wantly, written in imitation of the famousBeggar's Opera, and burlesquing current Italian operas. This Pyramus mock-opera consists of an overture and thirteen numbers. The overture is a delightfully fresh and original composition, very melodious, with quaint rhythms, and finishing with a very plaintive movement for strings and oboes. Wall (a tenor) has the first song, words not by Shakespeare, explaining his duties; it is good burlesque, and great point is made of repeating the word "whispering" seventeen times, making fun of the Italian method of the time somewhat heavily but amusingly. Pyramus (tenor) has a mock-dignified entrance, and sings an elaborate burlesque song on Shakespeare's words, "And thou, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, That stands between her father's ground and mine, Show me thy chink that I may blink through with mine eyne." No other words are used in this long song, and the effect should be very comic, and also irritating to Lampe's contemporaries. Pyramus proceeds with a second song, "O wicked wall," using the last two lines only of his speech in the original text. Thisbe, the part taken by Mrs Lampe, now enters and sings about her love for Pyramus in a little amorous song, again not by Shakespeare. The lovers now have aduet, called the First Whispering Duet, to the words, "Not Cephalus to Procris was so true"; a short spirited duet, "I go without delay," takes them off; and the Lion enters and roars pleasantly in florid baritone passages. The Moon (tenor) enters and sings of the joys of drinking and loving in the sky. Thisbe has a lament, so well written that it hardly seems a burlesque at all. Pyramus, thinking her dead, sings a furious mock-heroic song, "Approach, ye furies," followed by "Now am I dead," a beautiful plaintive burlesque withobbligatoparts for two oboes. Thisbe sings her lament, "These lily lips, this cherry nose," to a sad little tune; however, for some curious reason not explained in the text, neither of the lovers dies, but they finish the burlesque off with a very bright and cheerful duet to the words, "Thus folding, beholding, caressing, possessing, My Thisbe, my dear, We'll live out the year." As there is no spoken dialogue in my copy of this work, I don't know how the author gets over the death of Pyramus and Thisbe: doubtless he has some ingenious way out of it. Some of the fun is quite Shakespearian, and some is very German, but the whole little mock-opera is amusing and worth a few hours' study. The orchestration is simple and good, and the vocal writing, as was nearly always the case in this period, is excellent.
Sir Henry Bishop'soperatic version of this play is the first of his series of pasticcio operas founded on Shakespeare's plays. It was produced at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, in 1816, and is a wonderful hotch-potch of musical styles from Handel to Bishop. The overture is in four distinct movements, none of which seem to have any bearing on the play or each other; and not one is used later in the opera. The whole appears to be entirely detached from the rest of the production. The first song (Hermia) is still sometimes heard; it is by Bishop, and is a melodious setting of the passage beginning "By the simplicity of Venus' doves." The next number is a trio and chorus for theClowns, beginning "Most noble Duke." Quince, Snout, and Bottom all have little solos, but I can't trace the words—I think they were by some contemporary of Bishop's; the tune is by Arne and Bishop, but is not very valuable. The next song is for the first fairy and by Dr Cooke. The words do not occur in the play or in any other work of Shakespeare's; they are just the conventional fairy-song words about fairy rings, lightly trip it o'er the green, but the musical setting is charming. The fairy march by Bishop is the same as in hisAs You Like It, beginningpianissimoand finishing with about fifty bars of such vulgarfortissimonoise as would have frightened away any number of fairies. Demetrius has the next song: it is by Bishop, but the words are not Shakespeare's. The words, "But ne'er recall my love," are repeated thirteen times, and the tune is insignificant. The next number is a "grand recitative air and chorus" for Oberon and the fairies; again the words are not by Shakespeare, but are of the "trip it" and "so nimbly" school; the music is by Bishop and Dr Cooke, and Cooke's part is the better. Demetrius (tenor) sings Helena's beautiful words, "O happy fair, your eyes are lodestars," to a graceful melody of Bishop's: this number is still heard occasionally. The duet that follows between Demetrius and Hermia is by Bishop, and the words are by Anon.; it is a maudlin piece of work, words and music admirably fitted. Oberon's beautiful speech, "Flower of the purple dye," is set to music by our old friend Smith, with ineffective additions by Bishop, as a song for Oberon. The second act ends with a recitative for the fourth fairy, a dance and a chorus welcoming the little Indian boy. In the third act is a quartet for the four solo fairies by Bishop, words anonymous and very bad, which takes the curtain up. Oberon sings his speech, "Be as thou wast wont to be," to music by Battishill and Bishop, a very graceful melody; and this is followed by a hunting chorus about Spartan hounds, music by Bishop, poet unnamed. An anonymous character sings Handel's "Hush, ye pretty warbling choir," fromAcis and Galatea. The effect shouldbe amazing in this wilderness of bad music. Demetrius now has a song by Bishop, to "original words," called "Sweet cheerful hope," but as it is of no particular value we will pass on to a real piece of Shakespeare from this very play, a setting by Bishop for Oberon and chorus of the words "To the best bride bed will we," finishing with the chorus "In Theseus' house give glimmering light," or, as Shakespeare more happily phrases it, "Through the house," etc. Hermia now sings a song, words by some ruffian unnamed, to Hippolyta and her amazons about freedom; very poor, pretentious stuff. The opera ends with a so-called characteristic march, beginning with the entrance of the Cretans, followed by the Thebans, Amazons, the Centaurs, the Argo, the Labyrinth, the Minotaur—a sort of grand historical pageant of Theseus' life. The music by Bishop is not in the least descriptive of any of these varied things and persons I have catalogued; one expects some rather special music for a Centaur, a Labyrinth, and especially a Minotaur, but one is disappointed.
Mr Cecil Sharparranged and composed the incidental music and songs for Granville Barker's most interesting production of this play at the Savoy, January 1914. In a striking preface he points out that not a single note of contemporary music for the songs in this play has been preserved; he debates the possibility of using contemporary tunes and fitting the words to them, of having fake music composed, and of commissioning a composer to write entirely new music. He rejects all these propositions, and plumps for using folk-songs. He says: "By using folk-music in the Shakespeare play we shall then be mating like with like, the drama which is for all time with the music which is for all time." Whether the result at the Savoy was successful or not I leave to the judgment of the many people who saw the production. Unfortunately, Mr Sharp does not indicate very clearly when he has arranged, composed, or adapted the tunes in the printed score. The first musical number occurs in Act ii., Scene 2, a dance, song,and chorus; the dance is to the melody of that interesting old folk-tune "Sellenger's Round," and the baritone solo is, I am sure, by Mr Sharp, as is the following chorus. The words, which fit in too neatly for it to be an adaptation, are the familiar "You spotted snakes"; but, though he is bitter with Mendelssohn for repeating "so good night" so often, he cheerfully cuts out one "lul-la," surely a grievous thing to do for one so correct! The next number is Bottom's song, "The ousel cock so black of hue," and is, presumably, by Mr Sharp, as only the melody is printed, and I don't see how anyone can have a copyright (it is marked copyright) in a folk-song tune. I don't think it is an improvement on the so-called traditional tune to which I have always been accustomed. The next number is for orchestra alone, and occurs in Act iv., Scene 1; it is called "Still Music," and the melody is the old folk-song, "The sprig of thyme," collected and arranged by Mr Sharp. The Bergamask dance, Act v., Scene 1, is one of the numerous versions of "Green Sleeves," collected and arranged by Mr Sharp. The wedding march is on the tune "Lord Willoughby," arranged by Mr Sharp, and is certainly a great change from the one usually associated with this situation. The love charm seems to have gone all wrong again, and even Theseus and Hippolyta seem to have soured on one another. As for the other lovers——! Even thetierce de Picardiefails to liven up the last bar. The song and dance in the same scene and act are composed by Mr Sharp, and, following the glorious tradition of Sir Henry Bishop in the pasticcio operas, the words "Roses, their sharp spines being gone" do not appear in the play. They are not by Shakespeare, but from Fletcher'sTwo Noble Kinsmen. The final number is a traditional dance arranged by Mr Sharp, but from what source he does not say; it is rather a sad little tune, followed by the more lively "Nonsuch," and finishing off with "Sellenger's Round," which was the first musical number.
It would be an interesting point to discover whether Shakespeare would have preferred this very "correct"musical setting to Mendelssohn's now derided one. I rather think that Mendelssohn's Overture and Scherzo would have appealed to him. There seems to me to be very little in this play, with its frequent classical allusions, that calls for folk-music, and artificial simplicity in a production of a play so full of Elizabethan artifice seems utterly out of place.
The most successful opera founded onMuch Ado About NothingisBerlioz'stwo-act work entitledBéatrice et Bénédict, produced at Baden, 1862. The composer wrote his own libretto for this, and it is an ingenious one. The first reference we get to the work is in a letter to his greatest friend, Humbert Ferrand, dated November 1858: "I am getting on with a one-act opera for Baden written round Shakespeare'sMuch Ado About Nothing. It is calledBéatrice et Bénédict; I promise there shall not be 'much ado' in the shape of noise in it. Benayet, the King of Baden, wants it next year."
A very interesting point is made here in the little joke about "noise." Berlioz had long been accused by critics and public of using too large orchestras. He was very careful to put down in his scores the exact number of each instrument that he required, and the ignorant, non-musical person cannot understand that thirty violins playingpianissimoare stillpianissimoand are infinitely more beautiful than sixteen or eight. Berlioz composed this work, "little opera" he calls it, immensely quickly, and complains that ideas come to him so fast that he has not time to write them down. In a letter to his sailor son, Louis, dated November 1860, he says: "You ask how I manage to crowd a Shakespeare's five acts into one. I have taken only one subject from the play—the part in which Beatrice and Benedick, who detest each other, are mutually persuaded of each other's love, whereby they are inspired with a true passion. The idea is really comic." I don'tquite understand what he means by the last sentence: it is certainly a comedy idea, but not to me comic. Perhaps the translation of the original may be somewhat free: I have not the French original version by me, so I quote from the volume in Dent's "Everyman's Library."
It will be noticed that the original idea of a one-act opera is abandoned. The work was produced in two acts, and was a great success.
Writing again to his son he says: "Beatricewas applauded from end to end, and I was recalled more times than I can count"; and to his friend H. Ferrand: "I am just home from Baden, whereBeatriceis a real triumph." He speaks of his "radiant singers." He says: "People are finding out that I have melody; that I can be gay—in fact, really comic; that I am not noisy." Benayet, whom Berlioz humorously calls "King of Baden," was the director of the new Opera House, and he treated the composer most generously financially, and lavishly as regards scenery and dresses—a thing to which he was not accustomed: so he ennobled him thus. The wholeBeatriceepisode is one of the happiest in a not very happy life.
Coming to the music itself, the overture is not long, but an admirable comedy overture, beautifully scored. The first number is a drinking-song in praise of the wine of Syracuse, sung by a bass called Somarone, a creation of Berlioz, with a spirited chorus.
A fine chorus welcomes the return of the victorious Don Pedro. There is a very pretty "Siciliana," followed by a song in praise of Claudio, sung by Hero.
After this, the hero and heroine have most of the work; and on their finally agreeing to get married, much simple fun is made by the rest of the characters. The so-called "Maidens' Duet" became a very popular number. In this work are two four-part choruses called "Épithalme grotesque," composed incapellastyle. The end is very bright, and the whole opera though difficult to sing and play, is not expensive to mount.
I cannot trace a performance of this work here in London,but it would be well worth the attention of the Carl Rosa Opera Company; for even if it has been produced, it must have been a long time ago, and it would be perfectly fresh now. The opera has been performed more frequently in Germany than anywhere else. It was given at Weimar and Stuttgart under the composer's direction, and the last important production was under Mottl.
Sir Charles Villiers Stanford'sopera,Much Ado About Nothing, has nothing in common with Berlioz'sBéatrice et Bénédict, and very little in common with Shakespeare's work of the same name. The libretto is by Julian Sturgis, and the work was produced at Covent Garden in May 1900, and also at the Stadt Theater, Leipsic, April 1902, with a German translation by John Bernhoff.
Berlioz took a single episode for his opera in two acts, and worked it out logically, ignoring everything that had nothing to do with his own plot, which was "Beatrice and Benedick." Sturgis and Stanford bring in nearly all Shakespeare's characters, but these say and sing things that would have made Shakespeare turn in his grave if he could have heard them there. When Debussy wanted to set Maeterlinck'sPelléas et Mélisande, he set every word of the original play and made a perfect work of art. When Richard Strauss made an opera of Oscar Wilde'sSalome, he did the same thing, and, however much some of us may dislike it, no one can deny that he turned out a very perfect art-work, as regards form and brilliance. He produced a great opera, unpleasant from some points of view, but, judged as a whole, a real achievement. He trusted in his librettist and was justified in his trust. Stanford did not trust in Shakespeare as much as he did in Julian Sturgis, and his trust was very much betrayed.
Touching on the opera purely from a musical point of view, there is much very pleasant music in it. There is no overture, and the first act begins just before the masque. The male chorus sings "Sigh no more, ladies" as the curtain rises.
Almost at once Don John and Borachio begin the plot. Claudio and Benedick enter, Claudio immediately disclosing his love for Hero, the story of the play being pretty closely followed. Leonato now makes a tardy effort to welcome Don Pedro and the rest, and a masque begins with a very stately saraband. Then, according to stage directions, "Enter a pomp of clowns and country girls," who dance a morris-dance, while the chorus sings about spring and maying. The masque ends with Hero, crowned Queen of Summer, singing a very graceful welcome to the princes. Claudio, as in Shakespeare, thinks the prince is wooing for himself, and sings a tragic farewell to Hero and love, with many repetitions of the words "farewell" and "love." Beatrice and Benedick then have their little comedy scene, and the Prince explains to Claudio that he has won Hero for him, and gives him some solemn advice. All the principals join in and sing a fine sextet, Don John on the bottom line singing with the others, but with sinister significance, that he will mar their music presently.
The Prince announces his intention of making Beatrice and Benedick fall in love with each other, and the four conspirators, Hero, Claudio, Pedro, and Leonato, sing a quartet about it, finishing with a great number of "with a fa-la-la's." Don John says he will cross the wedding, and in a few words tells Borachio to meet Hero's gentlewoman, Margaret, that night, and he will bring the Prince and Claudio. The doors of the supper-room are thrown open and a procession of guests comes out, with Hero and Claudio in the centre, the chorus singing "Sigh no more, ladies," until the curtain comes down on the first act.
The second act opens with a short orchestral introduction. The scene is Leonato's garden near Hero's window. Claudio sings a typical serenade, at the end of which Hero comes out on the balcony, and they have a long love-duet. Benedick then enters, and sings a lengthy and very clever soliloquy about love and ladies; and then Hero, Pedro, and Claudio, in a vocal trio, describe the love of Beatrice forBenedick, the last-named listening as in the play. The scene ends with a very bright trio by the conspirators about having snared their bird.
The next episode sticks closely to Shakespeare. Don John guides Pedro and Claudio to Hero's window; they see Borachio embrace Margaret, and Claudio makes up his mind to denounce Hero in the church. The act ends excitedly by Claudio rushing off, followed by Don Pedro and Don John, and the curtain quickly falls.
The third act opens tempestuously on the orchestra, typifying Claudio's bitter thoughts. He is discovered alone in the church, where he sings a grim and very dramatic quasi-recitative about Hero's fall from grace. The bells are now heard—only three, F, G, A, and the organ begins, acolytes lighting the altar candles. The church fills, friars start the hymn outside to the words, "Mater dulce carmen lenis," the bells going right through the hymn with excellent effect. Then comes Claudio's denunciation of Hero and his refusal to marry her; she swoons, and everyone leaves the church except Hero, Beatrice, Benedick, Leonato, and the friar. The friar, in a fine bass number (beautifully sung at Covent Garden by Pol Plançon), explains his plan of pretending that Hero has died of shame at the false accusation. Benedick promises to challenge Claudio, and during this scene a funeral bell is heard, and a procession of the Misericordia Fraternity crosses the stage carrying a bier and singing "Miserere mei Deus" as it passes out of sight. Benedick sings very solemnly "And so farewell" (I don't quite see why, because Benedick knows Hero is not dead), and the curtain comes down tofortissimomusic on a very effective third act.
The last act takes place in Messina, near the burial-ground of Leonato's family. The music to open is not at all gloomy, as it is to introduce Seacole, Dogberry, and Verges. Curiously enough, Verges is a silent performer, or, as he is called in the bill of the play, a "persona muta." The watch come straight to the point. They have caught Borachio telling of his doings, and the movement followsvery closely Shakespeare's development of the episode. Benedick comes on, tries to make a song in Beatrice's honour, fails (just as he did in Shakespeare), but finally sings quite a good song about "Morning, spring-a (sic) ring-a (sic) and chantecleer." Don Pedro and Claudio enter; Benedick delivers his challenge and they prepare to fight, when Don Pedro comes between them. Dogberry, Verges, Watchmen with Borachio, bound, enter, and all the villainy of Don John is explained. The Friar enters; Claudio begs forgiveness, and the Friar produces the living Hero without any of Shakespeare's pretence that she was another daughter. Claudio at once sings a song to Hero, calling her angel of pity, and sentimentalising over her for quite a long time. Hero joins in the general soppiness, and, after a great high-note effect on the part of both, Beatrice and Benedick break in with their comedy scene, in which they agree to get married, to shouts of "How dost thou, Benedick, the married man!" The principals and chorus all join in singing "Sigh no more, ladies," which finally brings down the curtain very brightly on a charming comedy opera; the music vastly superior to the book. It was a brave attempt of Sir Charles Stanford, but he was beaten by his librettist every time. It is not my intention to give Mr Sturgis's perversions of Shakespeare; but why not have followed the original text whenever possible, and cut anything that would have made the work too long? Some of the paraphrases are quite as long as the original, but how lamentably weak! If only Sturgis had used Shakespeare and a large blue pencil! Of course, the whole text is too long to set for an opera—even as a play it is too long; but to rewrite immortal phrases and put them into such obvious opera libretto form (of the worst period) was a foolish thing to do, and will kill Stanford's heroic attempt to achieve English grand opera whenever it is performed. Mr Sturgis touched no phrase of Shakespeare's that he did not degrade; there is really no reason why the libretto of a modern opera should be written in rhyming couplets.
There are two other operas on this subject, but neither has yet been performed in England:Beaucoup de Bruit pour Rien, byP. Puget(Paris, 1899); andEro, byC. Podesta(Cremona, 1900), about the latter of which I regret I can obtain no details. The former, an opera in four acts and five scenes, libretto taken from Shakespeare's play by Edouard Blau, music by Paul Puget, was first performed at the Opéra Comique, Paris, on March 24, 1899. As a whole, the librettist adheres closely to his text, with the exception of the omission of Dogberry and Verges; and I don't think that anyone except an Englishman could possibly understand two such thoroughly British characters. In this work they would only make the serious parts seem ridiculous. The last scene of the last act is novel, and owes very little to Shakespeare. Hero is lying on a mortuary bed before the altar of the cathedral; Claudio enters, throws open the great doors, and, in the presence of all, makes a humble confession of his mistake and begs for pardon. He swears to consecrate himself to her, and puts on her finger a ring. At the touch of his hand Hero comes slowly from her faint, and the piece finishes happily. It is a very good libretto, and quite as near the original text as an opera can be expected to be. To this libretto M. Puget has composed some very beautiful music. The prelude to the first act is full of happy characterisation, though rather short. The duet, Hero and Beatrice, sung while they present flowers to Don Pedro, is melodious and simple; and in this act there is a very pretty Sicilian song and dance. In the second act a madrigal, sung by Benedick, is charming and very delicately scored, as is also a quartet for Pedro, Leonato, Benedick, and Beatrice. In the third act, the scene of the arrival of the bridal cortege at the cathedral, with fine organ and orchestral effects, is very impressive; and in the last scene, the long monologue, addressed by Claudio to the crowd, is broadly phrased and very pathetic in its dignity: but it is unfortunately largely overscored. The one serious blot on the work is the tendency of the composer toover-weight the singers. The opera earned a very well-deserved success.
Edward German'soverture and incidental music for Sir George Alexander's production ofMuch Adoat the St James's, 1898, is German at his best. The overture is mostly very bright, the first theme being really a saltarello. The secondmotif, Hero and Claudio, is naturally more sentimental and subdued. Don Pedro has a fine theme (the third subject of the overture), which is afterwards used for his entrance. These themes are all blended and woven together, and the whole ends with a brilliant coda, in saltarello style again. There is a very pretty movement,alla Siciliana, called "Leonato's Garden"; while the Dogberry music is in a hurried, flurried manner, quite indicating the fussy old constable. The Bourrée and Gigue are very well known on the concert platform. The former is one of the prettiest Old English dances that Edward German has ever given us. Thegrandiosoeffect of the first theme coming in augmentation for the coda is wonderfully good, and makes a really brilliant ending. In the Gigue, also, German is in his happiest vein; but I fear that a great deal of the incidental music is still in manuscript.
Rossini'sOtello, produced at Naples, 1816, is the earliest grand opera on the subject. For many years it enjoyed great popularity. But in 1887, in Milan, was produced Verdi's tragic masterpiece, and the earlier composer's work died a very natural death.
Many serious critics have said that Verdi's is the great tragedy opera of the world, but, anyhow, it is a great tragic opera. The incidental music composed for stage productions of the play has never been of very much importance. There is supposed to be a traditional setting of the "Willow Song," sung by Desdemona; but, as Shakespeare did not even write the words of the said song, merely quoting a few lines from a long poem given in its entirety by Bishop Percy in his invaluableReliques, this setting, even if contemporary, has not much to do with our subject, "Shakespeare and Music." The other songs, "King Stephen was a worthy peer," and "Let me the canakin clink, clink," are both probably quotations from older songs; while the so-called "traditional" tunes are very like the so-called "traditional" etc. in other plays by the master. In point of fact, I have often heard an old actor sing the King Stephen lyric to the same tune as the First Gravedigger's song inHamlet, and the two bear a very close resemblance to the traditional tune of "The Babes in the Wood." Still, the so-called traditional (I am tired of writing the word) setting of "A poor soul sat sighing" is a very exquisite thing, and worthy of its place in any production of the play. But the purity of itsmelodic linewould probably stand out in contrast to its modernassociates, if introduced into a modern version of the incidental music; so it is as well to leave it honourably alone, and write a new setting more in keeping with the rest of one's music.
Dvorák'sfineOthellooverture is fairly well known in concert-halls, but is too long and elaborate for theatre use. It is scored for full orchestra with harp, and an important part for English horn. The opening is slow andpianissimo, muted strings giving out an almost hymn-like subject, occasionally broken in upon by anticipation of the real principal theme. This is developed very dramatically, and leads skilfully into the first subject proper—a very quick, bright, one-in-a-bar theme, with tragic suggestions in it.
The second subject is of a more peaceful character, and the work slows down for a while. The long development is mostly very strenuous, but just before the end are some beautiful sad passages full of tragedy and pathos. The end isfortissimoandaccelerando, with a curious sequence of passing notes in the melody against a very rough chord, repeatedly struck by the rest of the orchestra. Though a little long, this overture is full of dramatic and melodic interest, and is, so far as I know, the only composition directly founded on our dramatist by this composer.
Raff's"Othello" overture is a fine though uninspired work.
Rossini'sgrand three-act opera,Otello, libretto by the Marquis Berio, enjoyed a long run of popularity. It was first produced at the Teatro del Fondo in the autumn of 1816. Originally Othello, Roderigo, and Iago were all great tenor parts; but later, Rossini, realising the difficulty of getting three tenors of high standing to sing together, rewrote the part of Iago for baritone.
The work made an enormous impression, and was soon being played over all Europe. In many ways it was much in advance of its time, the composer writing his ownornaments and embellishments, and often successfully investing them with real dramatic meaning. In the last act the librettist introduces a new character who sings a barcarolle to Dante's celebrated words, "Nessun maggior do lore." This is one of the most beautiful things in the work. It is for tenor. The librettist does not attempt to adapt Shakespeare's tragedy, but is content to take enough plot and situations for a conventional Italian libretto, and he succeeds in doing this very well.
The overture is studiously conventional, but some of the numbers are very beautiful. The duet between Desdemona and Emilia, "Vorrei che il tuo pensiero," is strikingly lovely; and the quintet in the finale of the first act is a fine piece of writing, the insistently-recurring ascending scale of Brabantio to the words "il barbaro tenor" having a terrific effect. The duet, Othello and Iago, in the second act, is full of melodic beauty and dramatic moments. Desdemona's great aria, "Assisa a pie d'un salice," is really beautiful, and the end of the opera is truly dramatic. The whole work is unquestionably Rossini's greatest opera, with the exception ofWilliam Tell.
Verdi's"lyrical drama in four acts," book by Arrigo Boito, is on a very different plane. Here we have the finest opera-librettist, with the possible exception of Richard Wagner, collaborating with one of the greatest dramatic composers of all time on a subject by the dramatist of all time—and a stupendous work is the result.
The comparative slowness of the sung as against the spoken word has necessitated much cutting, but with great technical skill Boito has devised a wonderful book, as true to Shakespeare as is possible in a libretto. The work was first produced at the Scala, Milan, February 5, 1887. The English translation is by Francis Hueffer, for a long time musical critic of theTimes. The success was immediate, and the opera at once passed into the world-repertory.
There is no overture, and the whole action of the piecetakes place in Cyprus. In the original production Tamagno and Maurel were Othello and Iago. After two and a half bars offortissimoorchestral music, the curtain rises on a tavern with an arbour. In the background is the sea. It is night, and a storm is raging. It is really Shakespeare's Act ii., Scene 1. Iago, Cassio, Montano, Roderigo, and chorus are watching Othello's ship, buffeting the waves, making slowly for harbour. Eventually Othello lands, and explains that the ocean has overwhelmed the Turk, and the war is over. Othello goes into the castle, and the chorus celebrate the happy news, the storm gradually dying away. No finer opening for an opera has ever been devised, and it is remarkable how the composer and librettist have managed to sustain this high level right through the four acts of the work.
Iago and Roderigo, following closely the original text, conspire against Othello, and the crowd make a bonfire in the background. Cassio enters and joins a group of soldiers, and the crowd light the bonfire and sing a chorus in praise of fire generally; at the end of which Iago tempts Cassio to drink, and sings an enlargement of "And let me the canakin clink," the chorus joining in the refrain.
Cassio gets very drunk, and the Shakespeare text is closely followed. Towards the end of the fight Othello has a magnificent entrance. He stops the strife with the words, "Lay down your arms."
After a tremendousfortissimochord on the orchestra there is a long and most significant pause. Then Othello has a beautiful but most distressing scene with Cassio. All exit save Desdemona and Othello, who sing an exquisite and passionate love-duet, which finishes the first act.
Near the beginning of the second act Iago has his first long soliloquy: very grim, but most dramatic. The duet between Othello and Iago that follows, in which Iago sows the seeds of jealousy, carries the action forward swiftly, and the "green-ey'd monster" lines are impressively set. At the close of the scene a chorus is heard singing softly, "off," accompanied by two notes (tonic and dominant) onthe cornamusa, or "bay-pipes." Grove is silent on the subject of the cornamusa; but Riemann, in hisDictionary of Music, says it is "an old Italian kind of schalmey," "also similar to the word bagpipe": so that "bay-pipe" is obviously a misprint for bagpipe in my edition of this work. The schalmey or schalmei was the predecessor of the oboe. This accompaniment is added to by mandolins and guitars on the stage, and gradually the whole orchestra joins in. The chorus is peaceful and melodious, and makes a strong dramatic contrast to what has gone before and what follows. At the end of this chorus Desdemona intercedes with Othello in Cassio's favour, and really fans the flame of jealousy; Othello denounces Desdemona, and the act ends with a dramatic duet between Othello and his betrayer.
The third act has a somewhat longer orchestral prelude than the first two, but the librettist gets to work very swiftly none the less. The handkerchief business is immediately begun. A long duet between Desdemona and Othello follows, the former very loving, the latter very ironical, the whole culminating in a magnificent passage in which Othello sings the words, "I mistook you ... for that strumpet of Venice who has married Othello." Desdemona is overwhelmed with horror, and Othello pushes her out of the room. There is great trumpeting from all sides of the stage, and, to a chorus of welcome by the Cypriotes, the Venetian ambassadors enter, bringing Othello's letter of recall. After a big chorus and ensemble, Othello and his ancient are left alone; the former gets more and more excited, and finally swoons. Iago jeers at the fallen Othello, the chorus, behind, sings "Hail, Othello," and on this situation, to a great music of trumpets, the curtain falls.
The fourth act opens with a short orchestral prelude on the subject of the "Willow Song," which comes a little later. The scene is Desdemona's bedroom, and she and Emilia are discovered. After a short dialogue, Desdemona sings the "Willow Song." For sheer beauty this is the most exquisite thing in the work: it is a wonderful piece of pure lyrical writing. Emilia says "Good night," andexits. Desdemona intones to a sustained accompaniment a "Hail, Mary," and then sings a beautiful prayer. She lies down on the bed, and long-sustained high chords are heard on the orchestra. These cease, and a sinister motive on the lowest bass notes is heardpianissimo. At the first note Othello is seen standing on the threshold of a secret door. To a certain musical figure he lays his scimitar on the table. He stands before the candle, doubtful whether to blow it out or not; he goes to the bed; he stops himself; he raises the curtains and looks for a long time at the sleeping Desdemona; he kisses her once, again, again, and she wakens. It must be understood that until Desdemona wakens not a word is spoken, but the whole action is fitted to the most dramatic and speaking music, and the effect is awe-inspiring. He tells her to pray, as he does not want to kill her soul; and after a short duet he stifles her, and she utters a shriek. This arouses Emilia, who knocks three times on the door—Othello still gazing at Desdemona—three times again, and yet again. Each knock is as carefully written down in the score as if it were a part for a musical instrument—Verdi is so thorough. Finally Othello opens the door. Desdemona manages to gasp out, "I have been slain unjustly, I die here guiltless," and expires. Emilia shouts for help, and Ludovico, Cassio, Iago, and others enter. All is explained to the unfortunate Othello, who suddenly stabs himself. As he is dying he sings the perfect words, "I kissed thee ere I killed thee;—no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss." Mr Hueffer has slightly altered the last six words, but I have ventured to put back Shakespeare's original text; in fact, I could not have put down the translator's variant. On these immortal words, sungpianissimo, the curtain falls on this great art-work.
The perfect combination of Verdi and Boito, and the sympathy of both with Shakespeare, are amongst the wonders of the world to me. The art of collaboration has never, to my knowledge, been brought to such a pitch of perfection except in the case ofFalstaff, the work of thesame trio. George Meredith, in one of his letters, dated 1896, with reference to his friend Professor W. G. Plimmer, a well-known amateur musician, writes: "He has got a score ofOthelloto play to me; says it is Wagner and water; would seem to say it is Verdi-gris of Wagner"; which shows that the Professor may have been some sort of a musician, but was certainly an amateur. Some critics endeavour to trace the influence of Wagner on Verdi's later operas, but I think it was the composer's own rich development in his later years that made his last two operas stand out so much from the rest of his operatic work. Of course, Wagner's influence on his contemporaries, especially the younger ones, was, and is still, enormous in Germany. But though it is quite easy to trace the harmonic and melodic influence of Wagner on Humperdinck or Strauss, I quite fail to see either influence on Verdi. The two operas are the natural result of a glorious old age.