The composer has recently become known in Germany by his opera Gwendoline, performed at Leipsic a short time ago. His latest opera, "A King against his will", was represented on the Royal Opera in Dresden, April 26th 1890, and through its wit, grace and originality won great applause.—Indeed, though not quite free from "raffinement", its melodies are exquisitely interesting and lovely. Minka's Bohemian song, her duet with De Nangis, her lover, as well as the duet between the King and Alexina are master-pieces, and thenational coloring in the song of the Polish bodyguard is characteristic enough.
The libretto is most amusing, though the plot is complicated. The scene is laid at Cracow in the year 1574.—Its subject is derived from a historical fact. Henry de Valois has been elected King of Poland, through the machinations of his ambitious mother, Catarina di Medici, to whom it has been prophesied, that all her sons should be crowned.
The gay Frenchman most reluctantly accepts the honor, but the delight of his new Polish subjects at having him, is not greater than his own enchantment with his new Kingdom.
The first act shows the new King surrounded by French noblemen, gay and thoughtless like himself; but watching all his movements by orders of his mother, who fears his escape. By chance the King hears from a young bondwoman Minka, who loves De Nangis, his friend, and wishes to save him a price, that a plot had been formed by the Polish noblemen, who do not yet know him personally, and he at once decides to join the conspiracy against his own person.—Knowing his secretary, Fritelli to be one of the conspirators, he declares that he is acquainted with their proceedings and threatens him with death, should he not silently submit to all his orders.—The frightened Italian promises to lead him into the house of Lasky, the principal conspirator, where he intends to appear as De Nangis. But before this, in order to prevent discovery heassembles his guard and suite, and in their presence accuses his favorite De Nangis with treachery, and has him safely locked up in apparent deep disgrace.
The second act opens with a festival at Lasky's, under cover of which the King is to be arrested and sent over the frontier. Now the King, being a total stranger to the whole assembly, excepting Fritelli, presents himself as De Nangis and swears to dethrone his fickle friend, the King, this very night. But meanwhile De Nangis, who, warned by Minka's song, has escaped from his confinement through the window, comes up, and is at once presented by the pretended De Nangis as King Henry. The true De Nangis complying with the jest, at once issues his Kingly orders, threatening to punish his antagonists and proclaiming his intention to make the frightened Minka his Queen. He is again confined by the conspirators, who, finding him so dangerous, resolve to kill him. This is entirely against King Henry's will, and he at once revokes his oath, proclaiming himself to be the true King and offering himself, if need shall be as their victim. But he is not believed; the only person, who knows him, Fritelli, disowns him, and Alexina, the secretary's wife, a former sweetheart of the King in Venice, to whom he has just made love again under his assumed name, declares, that he is De Nangis.—Henry is even appointed by lot to inflict the death-stroke on the unfortunate King. Determined to destroy himself rather than let his friend suffer, he opens the door to De Nangis'prison, but the bird has again flown. Minka, though despairing of ever belonging to one so highborn has found means to liberate him, and is now ready to suffer for her interference. She is however protected by Henry, who once more swears to force the King from the country.
The third act takes place in the environs of Crakow, where preparations are made for the King's entry. No one knows who is to be crowned, Henry de Valois or the Arch-Duke of Austria, the pretender supported by the Polish nobles, but Fritelli coming up assures the innkeeper, that it is to be the Arch-Duke. Meanwhile the King enters in hot haste asking for horses, in order to take himself away as quickly as possible. Unfortunately there is only one horse left and no driver, but the King orders this to be got ready, and declares that he will drive himself. During his absence Alexina and Minka, who have proceeded to the spot, are full of pity for the unfortunate King, as well as for his friend De Nangis. Alexina resolves to put on servant's clothes, in order to save the fugitive, and to drive herself. Of course Henry is enchanted when recognizing his fair driver and both set about to depart.
Minka, left alone, bewails her fate and wants to stab herself, whereupon De Nangis suddenly appears in search for the King. At the sight of him, Minka quickly dries her tears, being assured that her lover is true to her. Fritelli however, who at first had rejoiced to see his wife's admirer depart,is greatly dismayed at hearing that his fair wife was the servant-driver. He madly rushes after them, to arrest the fugitives. But the faithful guard is already on the King's track, and together with his Cavaliers, brings them back in triumph.
Finding that, whether her will or no, he must abide by his lot, and hearing further, that the Arch-Duke has renounced his pretentions to the crown of Poland, the King at last submits. He unites the faithful lovers, De Nangis and Minka, sends Fritelli as Ambassador to Venice accompanied by his wife Alexina, and all hail Henry de Valois as King of Poland.
This is the most popular of all Wagner's operas. No need to say more about its music, which is so generally known and admired, that every child in Germany knows the graceful aria, where Lohengrin dismisses the swan, the superb bridal chorus etc.
Wagner again took his material from the old legend, which tells us of the mystical knight Lohengrin, (Veron of Percifal), Keeper of the "Holy Grail".
The scene is laid near Antwerp, where "Heinrich der Vogler," King of Germany, is just levying troops amongst his vassals of Brabant, to repulse the Hungarian invaders. The King finds the peoplein a state of great commotion, for Count Frederick Telramund accuses Elsa of Brabant, of having killed her young brother Godfrey, heir to the Duke of Brabant, who died a short time ago, leaving his children to the care of Telramund. Elsa was to be Telramund's wife, but he wedded Ortrud of Friesland and now claims the deserted Duchy of Brabant.
As Elsa declares her innocence, not knowing what has become of her brother, who was taken from her during her sleep, the King resolves to decide by a tourney in which the whole matter shall be left to the judgment of God. Telramund, sure of his rights, is willing to fight with any champion, who may defend Elsa. All the noblemen of Brabant refuse to do so, and even the King, though struck by Elsa's innocent appearance, does not want to oppose his valiant and trustworthy warrior.
Elsa alone is calm, she trusts in the help of the heavenly knight, who has appeared to her in a dream, and publicly declares her intention of offering to her defender the crown and her hand. While she prays, there arrives a knight in silver armor; a swan draws his boat. He lands, Elsa recognizes the knight of her dream and he at once offers to fight for the accused maiden on two conditions, first that she shall become his wife, and second, that she never will ask for his name and his descent.
Elsa solemnly promises and the combatbegins. The strange knight is victorious, and Telramund, whose life the stranger spares is with his wife Ortrud outlawed.
The latter is a sorceress; she has deceived her husband, who really believes in the murder of Godfrey, while as a matter of fact she has abducted the child. In the second act we see her at the door of the Ducal palace, where preparations for the wedding are already being made. She plans vengeance. Her husband, full of remorse and feeling that his wife has led him on to a shameful deed, curses her as the cause of his dishonor. She derides him and rouses his pride by calling him a coward. Then she pacifies him with the assurance, that she will induce Elsa to break her promise and ask for the name of her husband, being sure, that then all the power of this mysterious champion will vanish.
When Elsa steps on the balcony to confide her happiness to the stars, she hears her name spoken in accents so sad, that her tender heart is moved. Ortrud bewails her lot, invoking Elsa's pity. The Princess opens her door, urging the false woman to share her palace and her fortune. Ortrud at once tries to sow distrust in Elsa's innocent heart.
As the morning dawns, a rich procession of men and women throng to the Münster, where Elsa is to be united to her protector. Telramund tries vainly to accuse the stranger; he is pushed back and silenced. As Elsa is about to enter the church, Ortrud steps forward, claiming the right ofprecedence. Elsa, frightened, repents too late having protected her. Ortrud upbraids her with not even having asked her husband's name and descent. All are taken aback, but Elsa defends her husband, winning everybody by her quiet dignity.
She turns to Lohengrin for protection, but, alas, the venom rankles in her heart.
When they are all returning from church, Telramund once more steps forth, accusing Lohengrin and demanding from the King to know the stranger's name. Lohengrin declares that his name may not be told, excepting his wife asks. Elsa is in great trouble, but once more her love conquers, and she does not put the fatal question.
But in the third act, when the two lovers are alone she knows no rest. Although her husband asks her to trust him, she fears that he may once leave her as mysteriously, as he came, and at last she cannot refrain from asking the luckless question. From this moment all happiness is lost to her. Telramund enters to slay his enemy, but Lohengrin, taking his sword, kills him with one stroke. Then he leads Elsa before the King and loudly announces his secret. He tells the astounded hearers, that he is the Keeper of the Holy-Grail. Sacred and invulnerable to the villain, a defender of right and virtue, he may stay with mankind as long as his name is unknown. But now he is obliged to reveal it. He is Lohengrin, son of Percival, King of the Grail, and is now compelled to leave his wife and return to his home. The swan appears, from whose neckLohengrin takes a golden ring, giving it to Elsa together with his sword and golden horn.
Just as Lohengrin is about to depart Ortrud appears, triumphantly declaring, that it was she, who changed young Godfrey into a swan, and that Lohengrin would have freed him too, had Elsa not mistrusted her husband.—Lohengrin, hearing this, sends a fervent prayer to Heaven and loosening the swan's golden chain, the animal dips under water and in his stead rises Godfrey, the lawful heir of Brabant. A white dove descends to draw the boat in which Lohengrin glides away and Elsa falls senseless in her brother's arm.
With this opera its composer has made a lucky hit; it stands far higher than the "Maidens of Schilda", by dint of the charming subject, founded on Auerbach's wonderful village-story: Die Frau Professorin. This romance is so universally known and admired all over Germany, that it ensures the success of the opera. The music is exceedingly well adapted to the subject; its best parts are the "Lieder" (songs) which are often exquisitely sweet, harmonious and refined. They realize Foerster's prominent strength, and nowhere could they be better placed than in this sweet and touching story.
Though the libretto is not very carefully written, it is better than the average performances of thiskind, and with poetical intuition Schefsky has refrained from the temptation, to make it turn out well, as Charlotte Birch-Pfeiffer has done in her play of L'orle, which is a weak counterpart of Auerbach's village-tragedy.
The first representation of the opera took place in Dresden on June 18th of 1891; it won the success it truly deserves.
The first act which is laid in a village of the Black Forest, represents the square before the house of the wealthy Lindenhost. He wishes his only daughter Lorle to marry a well to do young peasant, named Balder, who loved her from her childhood. But Lorle rejects him, having lost her heart to a painter, who had stayed in her father's house, and who had taken her as a model for a picture of the Madonna, which adorns the altar of the village church. Lorle's friend Bärbele guesses her secret, and advises her to consult fate, by wreathing secretly a garland of blue-bells and reed grass. This wreath she is to throw into the branches of an oak calling aloud the name of her lover. If the garland is stopped by the boughs, her wishes are fulfilled, if it falls back into the girl's hands, she must give up hope for the year.
Both maidens resolve to try their fate on the very same night, which happens to be St. John's (midsummer-night) the true night for the working of the charm.
Meanwhile the Hussars arrive, to carry away the newly enlisted peasants. The sergeant willinglypermits a last dance, and all join in it heartily, but when the hour of parting comes the frightened Balder hides in an empty barrel. Unfortunately his officer happens to choose this one barrel for himself, deeming it filled with wine. When it is laid on the car, the missing recruit is promptly apprehended.
The scene changes now to one of sylvan solitude, through which two wanderers are sauntering. They are artists, and one of them, Reinhardt, is attracted to the spot by his longing for the sweet village-flower, whom he has not forgotten in the whirl of the great world. Already he sees the windows of his sweet-heart glimmer through the trees, when suddenly light footsteps cause the friends to hide behind a large oak-tree. The two maidens who appear are Lorle and Bärbele. The former prays fervently, then throwing her garland she shyly calls her lover's name Reinhardt. The latter stepping from behind the tree skillfully catches the wreath—and the maiden. This moment decides upon their fates; Reinhardt passionately declares his love, while Walter amuses himself with pretty Bärbele, whose naïve coquetry pleases him mightily.
The following act introduces us to Reinhardt's studio in a German residence. A year has gone by since he wooed and won his bride; alas, he is already tired of her. The siren Maria countess of Matran, with whom he was enamoured years ago and whose portrait he has just finished, has again completely bewitched him.
In vain Lorle adorns herself in her bridal attire at the anniversary of their wedding; the infatuated husband has no eye for her loveliness, and roughly pushes her from him. Left alone the poor young wife gives vent to her feelings in an exquisite sigh of longing for her native country. "Hätt' ich verlassen nie dich, meine Haiden." (Would I had never left thee, o my heath.)
A visit from her dear Bärbele somewhat consoles her and delights Walter, the faithful house-friend. Balder, Lorle's old play mate, still recruit, also comes in and gladdens her by a bunch of heath-flowers. But hardly have they enjoyed their meeting, when the prince is announced, who desires to have a look at the countess' portrait. The rustic pair are hastily hidden behind the easel, and Lorle receives his Royal Highness with artless gracefullness, presenting him with the flowers she has just received. Her husband is on thorns, but the prince affably accepts the gift and invites her to a festival, which is to take place in the evening. Then he looks at the picture, expressing some disappointment about its execution, which so vexes the sensitive artist that he roughly pushes the picture from the easel thereby revealing the two innocents behind it. Great is his wrath at his wife's imprudence, while the prince exits with the countess, unable to repress a smile at the unexpected event.
There now ensues a very piquant musical intermezzo, well making up for the missing overture. The rising curtain reveals a brilliant courtfestival. Reinhardt has chosen the countess for his shepherdess, while Lorle, standing a moment alone and heart-sore, is suddenly chosen by the Prince as queen of the fête. After a charming gavotte the guests disperse in the various rooms. Only the countess stays behind with Reinhardt and so enthralls him, that he forgets honor and wife, and falls at her feet, stammering words of love and passion. Unfortunately Lorle witnesses the scene; she staggers forward, charging her husband with treason. The guests rush to her aid, but this last stroke is too much for the poor young heart, she sinks down in a dead faint.
The closing act takes place a year later. Walter and Bärbele are married, and only Lorle's sad fate mars their happiness. Lorle has returned to her father's home broken-hearted, and this grief for his only child has changed the old man sadly.
Again it is midsummernight, and the father is directing his tottering steps to the old oak, when he is arrested by a solitary wanderer, whom sorrow and remorse have also aged considerably. With disgust and loathing he recognizes his child's faithless husband, who comes to crave pardon from the wife he so deeply wronged. Alas, he only comes, to see her die.
Lorle's feeble steps are also guided by her friends to the old oak, her favorite resting-place. There she finds her last wish granted; it is to see Reinhardt once more, before she dies and to pardon him. The luckless husband rushes to her feetand tries vainly to restrain the fast-ebbing life. With the grateful sigh "he loves me", she sinks dead into his arms, while a sweet and solemn choir in praise of St. John's night concludes the tragedy.
This young composer, whose first opera was brought on the stage in Dresden in the spring of 1892, has been known for several years to the musical world by his most charming and effective songs. That he has talent, even genius is a fact which this opera again demonstrates, but the "making" is somewhat too easy not to say negligent, and it reminds us of Mascagni, whose laurels are an inducement to all our young genius' to "go and do likewise". Even the plot with its Corsican scenery has a strong resemblance to Cavalleria Rusticana. Its brevity, both acts last but fifty minutes, is a decided advantage, for the easy-flowing melodies, which come quite naturally to the composer cannot fail to attract the public, without being able to tire them.—One of the most delightful, a really exquisite piece of music is the duet between Giulietta and Giovanni.
The text, which is likewise written by the musician himself, has a very simple plot.—
Pietro, a sailor returns from a long voyage, only to find his promised bride Maritana the wife of another.—
After having waited three years for his return, she fell into dire distress, which was still augmented by the report, that Pietro's ship "Elena" had been wrecked and her lover drowned. An innkeeper Arrigo came to her aid, and not only rescued her from misery, but also adopted her child, the offspring of Maritana's love for Pietro, after which she promised him her hand in gratitude.
Not long after their marriage the "Elena" returns with Pietro, who never doubts his sweetheart's constancy. Great is his dismay, when he hears from Arrigo and his father, that Maritana is lost to him. Pietro endeavours to persuade Maritana to fly with him, but the young wife, although conscious of her affections for him, denies that she ever loved him.
The second act begins with the wedding festival of Giovanni and Giulietta, Arrigo's niece. After the charming love-duet above mentioned, Pietro once more offers his love to Maritana, but in vain.
In the midst of the turmoil of frolic, in which Pietro seems one of the wildest and gayest, Arrigo takes him aside, whispering: "There is no room here for both of us, unless you leave Maritana in peace. Quit this place; there are more girls in the world to suit you."—Pietro promises, and in his passion he at once turns to the bride Giulietta, whom he embraces.—Of course her bridegroomGiovanni is not willing to put up with this piece of folly; a violent quarrel ensues, in which the men rush upon Pietro with daggers drawn.
Maritana, willing to sacrifice herself in a quarrel, for which she feels herself alone responsible, rushes between the combatants. Then Pietro, fully awake to her love, but seeing that she is lost to him, quickly ascends a rock and calling out "O Sea eternal, I am thine, farewell Maritana, we shall meet in Heaven" he precipitates himself into the waves, while Maritana falls back in a faint.
This opera is Donizetti's master-piece and except his "Figlia del reggimento" and "Lucrezia Borgia" is the only one of his fifty operas, which is still given on all stages abroad. The chief parts, those of Lucia and Edgardo, offer plenty of scope for the display of brilliant talent and Lucia in particular is a tragic heroine of the first rank.
In the libretto there is not much left of Scott's fine romance. Edgardo, the noble lover is most sentimental, and generally English characteristics have had to give place to Italian coloring.
Henry Ashton, Lord of Lammermoor has discovered that his sister Lucia loves his mortal enemy, Sir Edgardo of Ravenswood. He confidesto Lucia's tutor, Raymond, that he is lost, if Lucia does not marry another suitor of his (her brother's) choice.
Lucia and Edgardo meet in the park. Edgardo tells her, that he is about to leave Scotland for France in the service of his country. He wishes to be reconciled to his enemy, Lord Ashton, for though the latter has done him all kinds of evil, though he has slain his father and burnt his castle, Edgardo is willing to sacrifice his oath of vengeance to his love for Lucia. But the lady, full of evil forebodings, entreats him to wait and swears eternal fidelity to him. After having bound himself by a solemn oath, he leaves her half-distracted with grief.
In the second act Lord Ashton shows a forged letter to his sister, which goes to prove that her lover is false. Her brother now presses her more and more to wed his friend Arthur, Lord Bucklaw, declaring, that he and his party are lost and that Arthur alone can save him from the executioner's axe. At last when even her tutor Raymond beseeches her to forget Edgardo and, like the others, believes him to be faithless, Lucia consents to the sacrifice. The wedding takes place in great haste, but just as Lucia has finished signing the marriage-contract, Edgardo enters to claim her as his own.
With grief and unbounded passion he now sees in his bride a traitress, and tearing his ring of betrothal from her finger, he throws it at her feet.
Henry, Arthur and Raymond order the ravinglover to leave the castle and the act closes in the midst of confusion and despair.
The third act opens with Raymond's announcement that Lucia has lost her reason and has killed her husband in the bridal room. Lucia herself enters to confirm his awful news; she is still in bridal attire and in her demented condition believes that Arthur will presently appear for the nuptial ceremony. Everybody is full of pity for her, and her brother repents his harshness, too late, alas!—Lucia is fast dying and Eliza leads her away amid the lamentations of all present.
Edgardo, hearing of these things, while wandering amid the tombs of his ancestors, resolves to see Lucia once more. When dying she asks for him, but he comes too late. The funeral-bells toll, and he stabs himself, praying to be united to his bride in heaven.
Donizetti's Lucrezia was one of the first tragic operas to command great success, notwithstanding its dreadful theme and its light music, which is half French, half Italian. It is in some respects the predecessor of Verdi's operas, Rigoletto, Trovatore etc., which have till now held their own in many theatres because the subject is interesting and the music may well entertain us for an evening,though its value often lies only in the striking harmonies. The libretto cannot inspire us with feelings of particular pleasure, the heroine, whose part is by far the best and most interesting, being the celebrated murderess and poisoner Lucrezia Borgia. At the same time she gives evidence in her dealings with her son Gennaro of possessing a very tender and motherly heart, and the songs, in which she pours out her love for him are really fine as well as touching.
Lucrezia, wife of Don Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, goes to Venice in disguise, to see the son of her first marriage, Gennaro. In his earliest youth he was given to a fisherman, who brought him up as his own son.—Gennaro feels himself attracted towards the strange and beautiful woman, who visits him, but hearing from his companions, who recognize and charge her with all sorts of crimes, that she is Lucrezia Borgia, he abhors her. Don Alfonso, not knowing the existence of this son of an early marriage, is jealous, and when Gennaro comes to Ferrara and in order to prove his hatred of the Borgias, tears off Lucrezia's name and scutcheon from the palace-gates, Rustighello, the Duke's confidant is ordered to imprison him. Lucrezia, hearing from her servant Gubella of the outrage to her name and honor complains to the Duke, who promises immediate punishment of the malefactor.
Gennaro enters, and terror-stricken Lucrezia recognizes her son. Vainly does she implore theDuke to spare the youth. With exquisite cruelty he forces her to hand the poisoned golden cup to the culprit herself, and, departing, bids her accompany her prisoner to the door. This order gives her an opportunity to administer an antidote by which she saves Gennaro's life, and she implores him to fly. But Gennaro does not immediately follow her advice, being induced by his friend Orsini to assist at a grand festival at Prince Negroni's.
Unhappily all those young men, who formerly reproached and offended Lucrezia so mortally in presence of her son, are assembled there by Lucrezia's orders. She has mixed their wine with poison, and herself appears to announce their death. Horror-stricken she sees Gennaro, who was not invited, among them. He has partaken of the wine like the others, but on her offering him an antidote, he refuses to take it; its quantity is insufficient for his friends, and he threatens to kill the murderess. Then she reveals the secret of his birth to him, but he only turns from this mother, for whom he had vainly longed his whole life, and dies. The Duke coming up to witness his wife's horrible victory, finds all either dead or dying and Lucrezia herself expires, stricken down by deadly remorse and pain.
This opera when it appeared, created a great sensation in the musical world. In it the eminent pianist and composer has achieved a splendid success. The music belongs to the noblest and best and is in most masterly fashion adapted to the Jewish character. Ludwig and Mosenthal, both names of renown in Germany, have given a libretto worthy of the music.
The hero is the famous warrior of the Old Testament. The scene takes place 160 years before Christ, partly at Modin, a city in the mountains of Judah and partly in Jerusalem and its environs.
The first act shows Leah with three of her sons, Eleazar, Joarim and Benjamin. Eleazar is envious of Judah, the eldest son, whose courage and strength are on everybody's lips, but his mother consoles him by a prophesy, that Eleazar shall one day be High-priest and King of the Jews.
The fête of the sheep-shearing is being celebrated, and Noëmi, Judah's wife, approaches Leah with garlands of flowers, asking for her benediction. But she is repulsed by her mother-in-law, who is too proud to recognize the low-born maid as her equal, and slights her son Judah for his love. She tries to incite him into rebellion against the Syrians, when Jojakim, a priest appears. Heannounces the death of Osias, High-priest of Zion and calls one of Leah's sons to the important office.—As Judah feels no vocation for such a burden, Eleazar, his mother's favorite is chosen, and so Leah sees her dream already fulfilled. They are about to depart, when the approaching army of the Syrians is announced. Terror seizes the people, as Gorgias, the leader of the enemy marches up with his soldiers and loudly proclaims, that the Jews are to erect an altar to Pallas Athene, to whom they must pray henceforth. Leah seeks to inflame Eleazar's spirit, but his courage fails him. The altar is soon erected, and as Gorgias sternly orders that sacrifices are to be offered to the goddess, Boas, Noëmi's father is found willing to bow to the enemy's commands. But the measure is full, Judah steps forth and striking Boas, the traitor to their faith, dead, loudly praises Jehova. He calls his people to arms, and repulses the Syrians and Leah, recognizing her son's greatness, gives him her benediction.
The second act represents a deep ravine near Emaus; the enemy is beaten and Judah is resolved to drive him from Zion's walls, but Jojakim warns him not to profane the coming Sabbath.
Judah tries to overrule the priests and to excite the people, but he is not heard, and the enemy is able to kill the psalm-singing soldiers like lambs.
The next scene shows us Eleazar with Cleopatra, daughter of King Antiochus of Syria.
They love each other, and Eleazar consents to forsake his religion for her, while she promises to make him King of Jerusalem.
In the next scene Leah in the city of Modin is greeted with acclamations of joy, when Simei, a relative of the slain Boas appears to bewail Judah's defeat: Other fugitives coming up, confirm his narrative of the massacre.—Leah hears that Judah fled and that Antiochus approaches conducted by her own son Eleazar. She curses the apostate.—She has still two younger sons, but the Israelites take them from her to give as hostages to the King Antiochus. Leah is bound to a cypress-tree by her own people, who attribute their misfortunes to her and to her sons. Only Noëmi, the despised daughter-in-law remains to liberate the miserable mother, and together they resolve to ask the tyrant's pardon for the sons.
In the third act we find Judah, alone and unrecognized in the deserted streets of Jerusalem. Hearing the prayers of the people that Judah may be sent to them, he steps forth and tells them who he is, and all sink at his feet, swearing to fight with him to the death. While Judah prays to God for a sign of grace, Noëmi comes with the dreadful news of the events at Modin, which still further rouses the anger and courage of the Israelites. Meanwhile Leah has succeeded in penetrating into Antiochus' presence to beg the lives of her children from him. Eleazar, Gorgias and Cleopatra join their prayers to those of the poor mother, and at lastAntiochus consents, and the two boys are led into the room.
But the King only grants their liberty on condition that they renounce their faith. They are to be burnt alive, should they abide by their heresy. The mother's heart is full of agony, but the children's noble courage prevails. They are prepared to die for their God, but the unhappy mother is not even allowed to share their death. When Eleazar sees his brother's firmness, his conscience awakens, and notwithstanding Cleopatra's entreaties he joins them on their way to death. The hymns of the youthful martyrs are heard, but with the sound of their voices there suddenly mingles that of a growing tumult. Antiochus falls, shot through the heart, and the Israelites rush in, headed by Judah, putting the Syrians to flight. Leah sees her people's victory, but the trial has been too great, she sinks back lifeless. Judah is proclaimed King of Zion, but he humbly bends his head, giving all glory to the Almighty God.
This last opera of Mozart's, written only a few months before his death, approaches so near to perfection, that one almost feels in it the motion of the spirit-wings which were so soon alas! to bearaway Mozart's genius from earth, too early by far, for he died at the age of 35, having accomplished in this short space of time more than other great composers in a long life.
The Magic Flute is one of the most remarkable operas known on the stage. It is half fictitious, half allegorical.—The text, done by the old stage-director Schikaneder was long mistaken for a fiction without any common sense, but Mozart saw deeper, else he would not have adapted his wonderful music to it.—It is true that the tales of old Egypt are mixed up in a curious manner with modern freemasonry, but nobody, except a superficial observer, could fail to catch a deep moral sense in the naïve rhymes.
The contents of the opera are the following: Prince Tamino, a youth as valiant as he is noble and virtuous, is implored by the Queen of Night, to save her daughter, whom the old and sage High-priest Sarastro has taken from her by force. The bereaved mother pours forth her woe in heart-melting sounds and promises everything to the rescuer of her child. Tamino is filled with ardent desire to serve her.—On his way he meets the gay Papageno, who at once agrees to share the Prince's adventures. Papageno is the gay element in the opera; always cheerful and in high spirits, his ever-ready tongue plays him many a funny trick. So we see him once with a lock on his mouth by way of punishment for his idle prating. As he promises never to tell a lie any more, the lock is takenaway by the three Ladies of the Queen of Night. Those Ladies present Tamino with a golden flute, giving at the same time an instrument made with little silver bells to Papageno, both of which are to help them in times of danger. The Queen of Night even sends with them three boy-angels. These are to point out to them the ways and means by which they may attain their purpose.
Now the young and beautiful Princess Pamina is pursued by declarations of love from a negro-servant of Sarastro. Papageno comes to her rescue, frightening the negro Monostatos with his feathery dress. Papageno, on the other hand fears the negro on account of his blackness, believing him to be the devil in person. Papageno escapes with Pamina, but the negro overtakes him with his servants. Then Papageno shakes his bells, and lo, all forgetting their wrath forthwith begin to dance.
Meanwhile Tamino reaches 'Sarastro's castle, and at once asks for the High-priest, poor Pamina's bitter enemy. The Under-priests do not allow him to enter, but explain that their Master Sarastro is as good as he is sage, and that he always acts for the best. They assure Tamino, that the Princess lives and is in no danger. Full of thanks, the Prince begins to play on his flute; and just then he hears Papageno's bells. At this juncture Sarastro appears, the wise Master, before whom they al bow. He punishes the wicked negro; but Tamino and his Pamina are not to be united without first having given ample proof of their love and constancy.Tamino determines to undergo whatever trials may await him, but the Queen of Night, knowing all, sends her three Ladies, to deter Tamino and his comrade from their purpose. But all temptation is gallantly set aside; they have given a promise to Sarastro which they will keep.
Even the Queen of Night herself is unable to weaken their strength of purpose; temptations of every kind overtake them, but Tamino remains firm. He is finally initiated into the mysteries of the goddess Isis.
In the interval Pamina deems Tamino faithless. She would fain die, but the three celestial youths console her, by assuring her that Tamino's love is true, and that he passes through the most severe trials solely on her behalf.
On hearing this Pamina at once asks to share in the trials, and so they walk together through fire and water, protected by the golden flute, as well as by their courage and constancy. They come out purified and happy.
Papageno, having lost his companion, has grown quite melancholy and longs for the little wife, that was promised to him and shown to him only for a few moments. He resolves at last to end his life by hanging himself, when the celestial youths appear, reminding him of his bells. He begins to shake them, and Papagena appears in feathery dress, the very counter-part of himself. All might now be well, were it not that the Queen of Night, a somewhat unreasonable lady, broods vengeance.She accepts the negro Monostatos as her avenger, and promises to give him her daughter. But already Sarastro has done his work; Tamino is united to his Pamina, and before the sunny light of truth everything else vanishes and sinks back into night.
The first work of this composer was produced on the stage of the Royal Dresden theatre on the twelfth of October 1889 and was received with great applause. This surprising success is due firstly to the great popularity, which Forster enjoyed as former Director of the renowned "Liedertafel" (Society for vocal music) and as teacher, and then to the numerous pretty melodies intermixed with national airs, in which particularly the old "Dessauer march" is skilfully interwoven, then the wellknown student air "Was kommt dort von der Höh'", which of course gladdens the heart of every student old or young.
Nevertheless it might be called an Operette rather than an Opera. The text at least does not range any higher, it is often almost silly, the rhymes bad and unequal.
Nevertheless those who like to be amused by a light and agreeable flow of music may pass a merry evening, listening to the droll exploits of the two Schilda maidens.—Schilda andSchildburghers are in Germany synonymous with narrow mindedness, which is indeed strongly marked in the inhabitants of this out-of-the way town.
The scene is laid in the last century.
In the first act an order of the Prince of Dessau calls all the youngsters of Schilda to arms.—The chief magistrate with the characteristic name of Rüpelmei (Rüpel=Clown), who has already given to the town so many wise laws, as for instance the one, which decrees that the Schilda maidens under thirty are not allowed to marry—now demonstrates to his two nieces, Lenchen and Hedwig, the benefit of his legislation, in as much as they might otherwise be obliged to take leave of their husbands. He wants to marry one of them himself, but they have already given their hearts to two students and only laugh at their vain uncle. This tyrant now orders all the maidens to be locked up in a place of safety every evening, in order to guard them from outsiders; further the worthy Schildaers resolve to build a wall, which is to shut them out from the depraved world.
While Rüpelmei is still reflecting upon these ingenious ideas, a French Courier, the Marquis de Maltracy enters, imploring the Burgomaster to hide him from the Prussian pursuers, who are on his track. He promises a cross of honor to the ambitious Rüpelmei, who at once hides him in the Town-hall.—Meanwhile a chorus of students approaches, who have left Halle to avoid being enlisted in the army. Lenchen and Hedchen, recognizingtheir sweet-hearts among them, greet them joyfully, and when Rüpelmei appears, they propitiate him by flattery.
A lively scene of student-life ensues, in which the maidens join, after their old night-guardian Schlump has been intoxicated.
Rüpelmei returning and seeing this spectacle, orders the police to seize the students, but instead of doing so, they thrust him into the very same barrel, which he has invented for the punishment of male citizens, and so he is obliged to be as impotent spectator of their merry-making.
In the second act he has been liberated by his faithful citizens; the students have escaped and the maidens are waiting to be locked up in their place of refuge.—But in the shades of evening the two students, Berndt and Walter return and are hidden by their sweet-hearts, Lenchen and Hedchen among the other maidens, after having put on female garments.—They all have hardly disappeared in the Town-hall, when the Prince of Dessau arrives with his Grenadiers to seize the students, of whose flight to Schilda he has been informed.—Rüpelmei tells him, that he has captured and killed many of them, but the Prince, disbelieving him, orders his soldiers to search the houses beginning with the Town-hall. Rüpelmei, remembering the Marquis, implores him to desist from his resolution, the Town-hall being the nightly asylum for Schilda's daughters, but in vain. Schlump, the snoring guardian is awakened and ordered to openthe door to the room, where the maidens are singing and frolicking with their guests.—The Marquis de Maltracy has also introduced himself, but perceiving that he is a spy, they all turn from him in disdain; when the Prussian Grenadiers are heard, they quickly hide him in a large trunk.
The Prince, finding all those pretty girls, is quite affable, and a general dancing and merry-making ensues, during which the students vainly try to escape, when suddenly two of the Grenadiers perceive that their respective beauties have beards.—The students are discovered and at once ordered to be put into the uniform, while Rüpelmei is arrested and handcuffed notwithstanding his protestations.
When the third act opens, drilling is going on in the town, and Walter and Berndt are among the recruits.
Lenchen and Hedwig arrive with the other girls to free the students.—They flatter the drill-sergeant, and soon the drilling is forgotten—and they are dancing merrily, when the Prince of Dessau arrives in the midst of the fun and threatens to have the officer shot for neglect of duty and the students as deserters. While the maidens are entreating him to be merciful, Berndt suddenly remembers the French Courier. He quickly relates to the Prince, that they have captured a French Marquis, who has a most important document in his possession, the plan of war. The Prince promising to let them free, if that proves to be true, the Marquis is conducted before thePrince, and the latter discovers that he is a messenger to the King of France, and that his letter is to show how the French army might attack the Prussians unawares. By this discovery the Germans are saved, for Dessau has time to send an officer to Saxony with orders to occupy Dresden before the arrival of the enemy.
Of course, the students are set free, and each of them obtains an office and the hand of his maiden besides. The luckless Rüpelmei is also liberated, being too much of a fool, to deserve even the Prince's scorn, who further decrees that the foolish town may keep their Burgomaster, as best suited to their narrow-mindedness.