Manru a wandering gipsy has fallen in love with a peasant girl Ulana and has married her against her mother's wishes.
In the first act mother Hedwig laments her daughter's loss. While the village lasses are dancing and frolicking Ulana returns to her mother to ask her forgiveness; she is encouraged by a hunchback Urok, who is devoted to her, and who persuades the mother to forgive her child, on condition that she shall leave her husband. As Ulana refuses, though she is in dire need of bread, Hedwig sternly shuts her door upon her daughter. Ulana turns to Urok, who does his best to persuade her to leave her husband.
Urok is a philosopher; he warns the poor woman, that gipsy blood is never faithful, and that the time will come, when Manru will leave wife and child.
Ulana is frightened and finally obtains from Urok a love potion, by which she hopes to secure her husband's constancy.
When she tries to turn back into the mountains she is surrounded by the returning villagers, who tease and torment her and the hunchback, until Manru comes to their rescue. But his arrival only awakes the villagers' wrath, they fall upon him and are about to kill him, when mother Hedwig comes out and warns them not to touch the outlaws on whom her curse has fallen.
The second act takes place in Manru's hiding place in the mountains. The gipsy is tired of theidyll. He longs for freedom and quarrels with his wife, whose sweetness bores him. She patiently rocks her child's cradle and sings him to rest. Suddenly Manru hears the tones of a gipsy fiddle in the distance; he follows the sound and soon returns with an old gipsy who does his best to lure him back to his tribe. But once more love and duty prevail; and when Ulana sweetly presents him the love-philtre he drains it at one draught, and immediately feeling the fire of the strong and potent drug, he becomes cheerful and receives his wife, who has adorned herself with a wreath of flowers with open arms.
In the third act Manru rushes out of the small, close hut. His intoxication is gone; he gasps for air and freedom. Wearily he stretches himself on the ground and falls asleep. The full moon, shining on him, throws him into a trance, during which he rises to follow the gipsy tribe whose songs he hears. In this state he is found by Asa, the gipsy queen, who loves him and at once claims him as her own.
But the tribe refuses to receive the apostate, and their chief Oros pronounces a terrible anathema against him. However Asa prevails with her tribe to pardon Manru.
Oros in anger flings down his staff of office and departs, and Manru is elected chief in his place.
Once more he hesitates, but Asa's beauty triumphs; he follows her and his own people.
At this moment Ulana appears. Seeing thather husband has forsaken her, she implores Urok, who has been present during the whole scene to bring Manru back to her.—Alas, it is in vain. When Ulana sees Manru climbing the mountain path arm in arm with Asa, she drowns herself in the lake.
But Manru does not enjoy his treachery; Oros, hidden behind the rocks is on the watch for him and tearing Asa from him, he precipitates his rival from the rocks into the lake.
The new Opera of the highly gifted young Bavarian composer was represented for the first time in Dresden on November 21st 1901.
This absolutely original composition was received with acclamation, and it deserves it. The musical part is so difficult, that it can only be performed on a few very first rate stages, and it wants many hearings to take in all its charm of instrumentation and its eminently modern harmonies and intervals.
The text is very witty and very clever, and quite worthy of the music. The story is taken from an old Dutch legend of rather free conception. The scene is laid in Munich; it takes place at the summer solstice in the far away middle-ages, or, as the author calls it "fabulous no-time."
The title has a double meaning as the explanation of the plot will show.
A band of merry children wanders from house to house, singing and demanding wood for the bonfires of the summer solstice. After having got a plentiful supply at the burgomaster's house, they cross over to the opposite house, an old decayed building, called the Wizard's house. Its inmate at first takes no notice of the children's noisy summons; at last he appears at the door.
He, Kunrad, is a young dreamer, who has forgotten the outside world over his books and studies. But the merry songs wake him suddenly to life and sunshine. He gives up his whole house to the uproarious band, beginning himself to tear down the battered shutters. The children set to work to carry off every piece of wood, that is not too firmly riveted, and Kunrad helps them full of glee.
Suddenly he perceives, Diemuth, the burgomaster's lovely daughter. His hitherto perfectly untouched heart catches fire, and all at once he steps up to her, presses her to his heart and kissing her he passionately explains: "I will leap through the fire; wilt thou leap after me?!"
Diemuth, who has all the time been gazing at the stranger like one in a trance wakes up and turns from him with a cry of shame and indignation.
Kunrad is now attacked on all sides for his impertinence and Diemuth, turning to her maiden friends, who secretly envy her for the adoration,the noble stranger has shown her, whispers into their ears, that she will revenge herself for the disgrace he has brought upon her.
While the evening is setting in the citizens begin to wander out of town to see the bonfires.
The burgomaster is obliged to walk away alone, after having vainly tried to persuade his daughter to accompany him.
Diemuth steps into the house, and soon appears on the balcony, combing her heir. Kunrad standing at his battered house-door renews his protestations of love and begs her in passionate terms to let him in. At first she refuses tartly but by and by she seems to relent, and pointing to the large basket in which the wood had been let down to the children she invites him to get into it and says that she will draw him up.—Kunrad complies with her wish.
While she slowly winds the basket up her three companions peep round the corner and perceive with delight, that Diemuth's trick is successful, and that the bird is caught. The tercet of the maidens is one of the loveliest pieces of music ever written.
Before the basket reaches the balcony, Diemuth pretends that her strength is failing. At his entreaties she loosens and lets down her long hair, but when he tries to grasp it she jerks it back with a cry of pain and rates him harshly.—At last he perceives, that she has been fooling him all the time. He is helplessly caught in the trap and the returning citizens seeing him hanging betweenheaven and earth deride him, congratulating Diemuth on having caught such a fine bird.
Then Kunrad rises in a towering rage. Loudly invoking the help of his friend and master, the mighty sorcerer, he suddenly plunges the whole town into utter darkness. When the good citizens of Munich find themselves deprived of fire and light, they break out into loud lamentation; the frightened children wail and the head officials of the town vow to hang Kunrad for his insolence and his witchcraft.
At this moment the moon shining through the clouds throws her light upon Kunrad, who has swung himself on to the balcony, and smiling down upon the people he pronounces a powerful oration upon their narrowmindedness.
He reminds them, that the owner of his house, whom they drove out of the town, Richard Wagner was one of the greatest masters the world had ever seen and who would have brought them fame and greatness, if they had not rejected him. He, Kunrad (Richard Strauss) claims to be his successor, who is to carry on the great work nothing daunted, and in spite of all the small minds of the world.
For his helpmate he has chosen Diemuth, but she too has failed to understand, that love is higher than even virtue and morality, and for this reason he has extinguished their lights and fire, to show them, that all light comes, from love, and that without love the world is dark and cold.
As soon as he has ended, Diemuth softly opens her door and draws Kunrad in. The citizens, convinced by his burning words begin to praise him and acknowledge his high courage and good words. Meanwhile the windows of Diemuth's chamber begin to gleam faintly; Diemuth and Kunrad have fulfilled the law of love and all at once, the flames of the bonfires leap up and the windows and streets are again aglow with the light, that is given back to the city.
In this opera the composer far surpasses all his other compositions. It is his swan's song, for he composed it in the summer of 1880 and he died in October of the same year after having given his best to the world, a true work of genius, so full of grace, of delicate feeling and of phantastic loveliness, that nobody can hear it without being captivated by its sweetness.
The libretto is taken from three different tales of E. Th. A. Hoffmann, who was not only an author and a poet, but a musician and composer worthy of note.
His weird tales were much read in the beginning of the last century.
The first scene, a prologue, is laid in Luther's famous wine-cellar in Nuremberg.
The hero of the opera, Hoffmann himself is there, drinking with a number of gay young students, his friends. He is in a despondent mood and when urged by his companions to tell them the reason of his depression, he declares himself ready to relate the story of his three love adventures, while his friends sit round a bowl of flaming strong punch.
Now the scene changes and the curtain rises on the first act. We find Hoffmann in Spalanzani's house. This man is a famous physiologist, and Hoffmann has entered his house as his pupil in order to make the acquaintance of the professor's beautiful daughter Olympia, whom he has seen at a distance.
This daughter is nothing more than an automaton, that has been manufactured by Spalanzani and his friend, the wizard Coppelius. This doll can sing, dance and speak like a human being. Spalanzani hopes to become rich by means of this clever work of art. As half of Olympia (this is the doll's name), belongs to Coppelius, Spalanzani buys her from him, paying him by a draft on the Jew Elias, though he knows him to be bankrupt.—Hoffmann has been persuaded by Coppelius to purchase a pair of spectacles, through which he looks at Olympia, and taking her for a lovely living maiden falls violently in love with her.
Spalanzani now gives a grand entertainment, at which he presents his daughter Olympia, (the Automaton), who surprises everybody by herloveliness and her fine singing.—Hoffmann is completely bewitched and as soon as he finds himself alone with her, he makes her an ardent declaration of love and is not at all discouraged by her sitting stock still and only answering from time to time a dry little "ja, ja". At last he tries to embrace her, but as soon as he touches her she rises and trips away.
Hoffmann's friend Niklas finds him in the seventh heaven of rapture and vainly endeavours to enlighten him as to the reason of the beauty's stiffness and heartlessness.
When the dancing begins Hoffmann engages Olympia, and they dance on, always faster and faster, until Hoffmann sinks down in a swoon, his spectacles being broken by the fall. Olympia spins on alone as fast as ever and presently dances out of the room, Cochenille vainly trying to stop her. Coppelius now enters in a fury having found out that Spalanzani's draft on Elias is worthless. He rushes to the room, into which Olympia has vanished and when Hoffmann revives he hears a frightful sound of breaking and smashing, and Spalanzani bursts in with the news that Coppelius has broken his valuable automaton. Thus Hoffmann learns that he has been in love with a senseless doll. The guests, who now enter shout with laughter at his confusion, while Spalanzani and Coppelius load each other with abuse.
The second act takes place in Giulietta's palace in Venice. Everything breathes joy and love.—Both Niklas and Hoffmann are courting the beautiful lady.Niklas warns his friend against her, but Hoffmann only laughs at the idea that he is likely to love a courtezan. The latter is entirely in the hand of the wizard Dapertutto, who acts towards Hoffmann as an evil spirit under three different names in each of his three love affairs. Giulietta has already stolen for him the shadow of her former lover Schlemihl; now Dapertutto wounds her vanity, by telling her, that Hoffmann has spoken disdainfully of her, and makes her promise to win the young man's love and by that means to make him give her his reflection from a looking-glass.
She succeeds easily, and there ensues a charming love-duet, during which they are surprised by the jealous Schlemihl. Giulietta tells Hoffmann, that her former lover has the key of her apartments in his pocket, she then departs leaving the two lovers and Dapertutto alone. When Hoffmann peremptorily demands the key from Schlemihl the latter refuses to give it up. The result is a duel, for which Dapertutto offers Hoffmann his sword.—
After a few passes Schlemihl is killed and Dapertutto disappears. A few moments afterwards Giulietta's gondola passes before the balcony and Hoffmann sees her leaning on Dapertutto's arm, singing a mocking farewell to the poor deserted lover.
The third act takes place in Rath Krespel's house. His daughter Antonia has inherited her mother's gift of a beautiful voice, but alas, also her tendency to consumption. The greatest joy of herlife is singing, which however her father has forbidden, knowing this exertion to be fatal to his darling.
She is engaged to be married to Hoffmann, but Krespel is averse to the marriage, seeing in it another danger for his daughter's health, as Hoffmann is musical and encourages Antonia to sing. Krespel has forbidden his servant Franz to let anybody see Antonia, while he goes out of the house, but Franz, who is very deaf, misunderstands his master's orders and joyously welcomes his mistress's suitor. A delicate love-scene follows, during which Antonia shows her lover, that her voice is as fine as ever. When they hear Krespel returning Antonia retires to her own room, but Hoffmann hides himself in an alcove, determined to learn why Antonia is so closely hidden from the world.
Immediately after the father's return Doctor Mirakel enters; Krespel is mortally afraid of this mysterious man, as he believes him to have killed his wife by his drugs and that now he aims at his daughter's life.
This Mirakel is a demon, who acts as in the two former instances as Hoffmann's evil genius.—From the conversation of the two men Hoffmann learns the secret of his bride's dangerous inheritance, and when Mirakel has at last been driven out of the room, and Krespel has left it too; the lovers both come back again. Hoffmann by earnest entreaty succeeds in gaining Antonia's promise never to sing any more. But when he has left Mirakelreturns and by invoking the spirit of her mother he goads her on to break her promise. She begins to sing and he urges her on, until she sinks back exhausted. It is thus that her father and her lover find her, and after a few sweet words of farewell she dies in their arms.
The Epilogue takes us back to Luther's cellar, where Hoffmann's companions are still sitting over their punch, the steam of which forms clouds over their heads, while they thank their poor, heart-broken friend for his three stories with ringing cheers.
The young composer, who is already conductor of the orchestra of the German Opera in Prague made his debut last year in a small one-act opera, called "That was I"—, the music of which is pretty and shows remarkable talent. There is however enormous progress to be observed in "The Alpine King". Blech, although following in Wagner's footsteps, has a style of his own. His modulations are bold, often daring; his dissonances are frequent but they are fully compensated for by the most charming folk-songs. He has the courage to introduce melodies freely, in this respect he is one among a thousand. In his modern style of orchestration too he showshimself to be full of resource, while more especially in those passages, where the spirit-world comes into play, there is a display of tone-effects of great beauty, which are perhaps too elaborate for the simple subject, but the Cottage scene, and the simple Tirolean-songs of the peasants are all the more graceful by contrast; one of the most charming songs in the Polka-air in f: "Fair are Roses and Jessamine".
Batka, the writer of the libretto, has taken his subject from Raimund's beautiful folk-story of the same name. He has done it with skill but not without some weak passages.
The scene opens in a Tirolean mountain district. Marthe, Rappelkopf's daughter, and her servant Lieschen, while making a nosegay of wild flowers, are waiting for Marthe's lover Hans, a poor musician, who after having been rejected by his sweetheart's father has absented himself for some time, in order to make himself perfect in his art by studying under the great masters in Italy. Lieschen is much afraid of the Alpine King on whose ground they are sitting, and of whom the legend says, that he turns young girls into old women, if they dare to look at him. Marthe has more sense, she is sure that the lord of these grand mountains must be good and just. While the girls are busy wilh their garlands, Hans comes up the steep path and is joyously greeted by his fiancée. He has become a man and is full of hope that he will now be able to satisfy Herr Rappelkopf, but Marthe sadly tellshim, how morbid and misanthropic her father has become, so that she does not even dare to mention her lover's name. Suddenly a shot is heard and a bird falls dead at their feet. Turning to look at the unwelcome intruder they find themselves face to face with a strange old man; who, when they ask him who he is, replies quickly: "I am the King of the Alps". Dreadfully frightened Lieschen and Marthe look at each other in consternation, but finding that their sweet young faces are unchanged, they take courage, and kneeling before the majestic traveller they implore his help and blessing, which the latter willingly promises.
The second scene takes place in Rappelkopf's house. Lieschen comes to look for the man servant Habakuk, who is very much in love with her. She treats him rather scornfully, being averse to his peculiar style of love-making, and the French phrases with which he adorns his speeches and which she does not understand. He takes the greatest pride in the fact that he has lived for two years in Paris, and he continually refers to that glorious time. Rappelkopf taking his servants by surprise pours forth a volley of abuse upon them; he is interrupted by the appearance of his daughter and Hans, whom he receives just as badly. In vain his wife Sabine implores him to listen to reason; in his wrath he abuses her too, so that she leaves him broken-hearted, sighing, that she would rather see him dead than in such a state of mind. Shortly after Habakuk comes forward with a kitchen-knife,with which he is going to cut chiccory in the garden. Rappelkopf no sooner perceives the knife that his wits take leave of him altogether; and he actually believes that Habakuk has been sent by his wife to murder him. Making for one door he meets Hans and Marthe, turning to another he sees Habakuk, and at last trying to escape by the garden door his wife stops him, but he pushes her aside, and with frantic vociferations he rushes away.
The second act opens in front of a cottage in the Alpine regions; Veit the joiner is busy at his bench singing all the while and rejoicing in the prospect of the coming Festival. His wife Katherine is busy washing and his daughter is sitting at her wheel spinning and singing, while his son is playing about merrily. At last the joiner throws down his plane disregarding the remonstrances of his wife, who still goes on with her washing and complains bitterly of her light hearted and lazy family. Thus they are found by Rappelkopf, whose fancy is at once struck by position of the solitary little cottage. He desires to buy it and offers three hundred thalers for it on condition that he shall enter in immediate possession. The astonished workman consents to this bargain without more ado, too happy at this unexpected piece of good luck to think of anything else. Rappelkopf gruffly orders the whole family to pack off instantly. Father and children prepare to depart laughing and singing, but Katherine takes leave of her humble home with bitter tears.
When Rappelkopf finds himself alone he is quite delighted by the complete solitude and grandeur of the surrounding mountains and glaciers, but soon darkness comes over the scene and with it uneasiness and fear take possession of the lonely man. At last he can stand the loneliness no longer and on his cry for help, Astragalus the Alpine King appears frightening him almost to death. Astragalus however merely advises him to return to his family, whom he left in sorrow and anxiety. But Rappelkopf's hatred of mankind knows no bounds; he remains deaf to the good king's remonstrances. At last the latter determines to make Rappelkopf see his behaviour in its true light. To this end he promises to metamorphose the misanthrope into the exact likeness of his own brother in law, in which form he is to return home on the following morning in order to test the real feelings of his wife and daughter.
Astragalus makes him swear that he will not persist in his obstinacy should he find out his error, and Rappelkopf consents, making the king promise in his turn to destroy all the inhabitants of the place, should his hate for them be justified. Both take solemn oaths, after which Astragalus touches Rappelkopf's forehead, making him fall asleep while a sweet chorus of fairies lulls the unhappy man into sweet slumber.
The third act opens in Rappelkopf's house. Marthe and Lieschen are waiting for the return of the neighbours who have gone in search of the lostfather. Marthe is in great anxiety, she has almost ceased to hope for the Alpine King's help. Suddenly the stage-coach arrives bringing Sabine's brother, whom his sister had summoned in her despair. It is Rappelkopf himself in the likeness of uncle Joseph. He is greeted with enthusiasm, but remarking his wife's sad looks, he observes that she ought to be glad to be rid of the maniac who has treated her so badly. Sabine however stands up for her husband, affirming that she loves him as much as ever, though a strange alienation of mind has sadly changed him. Rappelkopf does not believe her; he asks why she should suppose such a thing. Sabine relates the scene with Habakuk, who, having been sent by her into the garden with a kitchen-knife to cut some vegetables, was regarded as a murderer by her insane husband, who had fled at once. This explanation moves Rappelkopf deeply, and when Marthe begs him earnestly to assure her father when he sees him of her deep filial love, and to speak in favour of Hans without whom she cannot live, he kisses her tenderly and then begs to be left alone for a short time. They all leave him, but almost immediately afterwards Rappelkopf hears a great uproar, which Habakuk explains by announcing the return of his master, who seems to be in a more frantic state than ever.
Astragalus now enters transformed into the appearance of Rappelkopf. He pushes Hans before him overwhelming him with a volley of abuse. The real Rappelkopf, coming forward to greet hisbrother-in-law, is received no better. When Rappelkopf mentions Sabine, Astragalus speaks of her exactly in the same way as Rappelkopf had formerly done, calling her a murderess, a dragon etc.; in fact he behaves in such a manner that Rappelkopf begins to be afraid of his own (Rappelkopf's) image. Astragalus having shut himself up in his own room now rings violently; both servants rush forward at his call, but neither of them dares to enter the tyrant's apartment. Rappelkopf, already heartily ashamed of himself now asks the servants what their opinion is about their master and receives the instant reply, that he is a madman, of whom everybody is afraid.—They confess their attachment to each other, and entreat the supposed uncle Joseph to try to bring their master back to reason, and to put in a good word for them about their wedding. The uncle promises everything, and having got a knife from Habakuk he goes into the garden to cut some roses for Sabine. Habakuk and his sweet-heart are left alone and exchange a few words, but they timidly separate when Astragalus enters. However he takes no notice of them, but looking out of the window he perceives Rappelkopf, returning from the garden with the knife and a bunch of roses. Rappelkopf no sooner sees his double, than he tries to slink off unobserved, but Astragalus detains him and pointing to the knife in his hand abuses him in the very language which Rappelkopf had formerly used, calling him murderer, robber, monster and—man.
The poor misanthrope screams for help and the whole family rushing in Astragalus turns his wrath upon them, cursing them one and all. This is too much for Rappelkopf. "Enough of the play" he cries, "I was a madman and a sinner, not he, but I am Rappelkopf, and I freely confess that my hatred towards mankind in general and especially against my own dear family was as wicked as it was unfounded!" At these word a peal of thunder is heard and the room becomes dark. When the light returns, Astragalus has vanished and Rappelkopf stands before his family in his own form. Deeply moved, he begs pardon of every one, he embraces his faithful wife and daughter and unites the two pairs of lovers, Martha and Hans—Lieschen and Habakuk.
The subject of this opera is based on Prevost's famous novel "Manon Lescaut". The libretto is much weaker than the story, but the music is most graceful and charming, and quite makes up for the defects of the text.
The scene is laid in France in 1721.
The first act takes place in the courtyard of a large inn at Amiens.
Several young cavaliers are amusing themselves by paying attentions to three pretty ladies. Theyimpatiently call upon their host to bring dinner, and at last it is brought to them in great state.
While they are dining in the large saloon above, the stage-coach arrives with a great number of travellers; amongst them is young Manon, a country girl of sixteen; this is her first journey which alas is to end in a convent, an arrangement made by her parents who think her taste for worldly pleasures is greater than it should be. She is expected by her cousin Lescaut, a Garde du Corps, and while he is looking for her luggage, the young beauty is accosted by Guillot-Marfontaine, an old roué, and rich farmer, who annoys her with his equivocal speeches, and offers her a seat in his carriage. He is quickly driven away by Lescaut on his return; the young man is however enticed away by his comrades to play a game of cards, for which purpose he leaves his cousin a second time. Before long another cavalier approaches Manon; this time it is the Chevalier de Grieux, a young nobleman, whose good looks and charming manners please the young girl much better. They quickly fall in love with each other, and when de Grieux offers to take her to Paris Manon gladly consents, thankful to escape the convent. Remembering Guillot's offer she proposes to make use of the farmer's carriage, and they drive gaily off, just before Lescaut returns to look for his cousin. When this worthy soldier hears that the fugitives have gone off in Guillot's carriage, he abuses the farmer with great fury and swears, thathe will not rest, until he shall have found his little cousin.
The second act takes place in a poorly furnished apartment in Paris.
De Grieux is about to write to his father, whom he hopes to reconcile to his purpose of marrying Manon, by telling him of the girl's beauty, of her youth and innocence. They are interrupted by the entrance of Lescaut, who, accompanied by de Bretigny, another victim of Manon's charms, comes to avenge the honour of the family. While Grieux takes Lescaut aside and pacifies him by showing him the letter he has just written, de Bretigny tells Manon, that her lover will be kidnapped this very evening by his father's orders. Manon protests warmly against this act of tyranny, but de Bretigny warns her that her interference would only bring greater harm to both of them, while riches, honours and liberty will be hers, if she lets things take their course.
Manon who on the one hand sincerely loves de Grieux while on the other hand she has a longing for all the good things of this world, is very unhappy but allows herself to be tempted. When de Grieux leaves her to post his letter she takes a most tender farewell of the little table at which they have so often sat, of the one glass from which they both drank, and of all the objects around. De Grieux finding her in tears, tries to console her by picturing the future of his dreams, a little cottage in the wood, where they are tolive for ever happy and contented. A loud knock interrupts them, Manon, knowing what will happen tries to detain him, but he tears himself from her and opening the door is at once seized and carried off.
The third act opens on the promenade Cour-la-Reine in Paris, a scene of merry making where all the buying, selling and amusements of a great fair are going on.
The pretty ladies of the first act, Yavotte, Poussette and Rosette are being entertained by new lovers, while rich old Guillot looks in vain for a sweetheart.
Manon, who appears on de Brétigny's arm, is the queen of the festival. She has stifled the pangs of conscience which had troubled her when she left de Grieux, and her passion of jewels and riches is as insatiable as ever. Guillot, who hears that de Brétigny has refused to comply with her last wish, which is to order the ballet of the grand opera to dance in the open market-place for her own amusement, rushes off to pay for this whim himself, hoping thereby to gain the young lady's favour.
Manon slowly wanders about in search of new and pretty things to buy, while Brétigny suddenly finds himself face to face with the old count de Grieux. When he asks for news of his son, the count tells him, that the young man has renounced the world and become an Abbé and is a famous preacher at Saint Sulpice. He cuts de Brétigny'sexpressions of astonishment short by telling him, that this turn of things is due to de Brétigny's own conduct, meaning that the latter had done a bad turn to his friend by crossing his path in relation to a certain pretty young lady. De Brétigny indicating his lady-love by a gesture says: "That is Manon", and the count, perceiving her beauty quite understands his son's infatuation.
But Manon's quick ears have also caught bits of the conversation and beckoning to her lover she sends him away to buy a golden bracelet for her. She then approaches the count and asks him, if his son has quite overcome his passion for the lady whom she says was a friend of hers. The old man acknowledges, that his son had had a hard struggle with his love and grief but adds "one must try and forget" and Manon repeats the words and falls into a fit of sad musing.
Meanwhile Guillot has succeeded in bringing the ballet-dancers who perform a beautiful gavotte and other dances. When these are ended he turns to Manon in hope of a word of praise, but the wilful beauty only turns from him to order her carriage, which is to take her to Saint Sulpice, saying lightly to Guillot that she has not cared to look at the ballet after all.
The next scene takes place in the parlour of the seminary in Saint Sulpice. A crowd of ladies has assembled to praise the new Abbé's fine preaching. They at last disperse, when the young Abbé enters with downcast eyes. Heis warmly greeted by his father, who has followed him. The father at first tries to persuade him to give up his newly chosen vocation before he finally takes the vows, but seeing him determined, the Count hands him over his mother's inheritage of 30,000 Lires [Transcriber's note: Livres?] and then bids him good-bye. The young man retires to find strength and forgetfulness in prayer.
When he returns to the parlour he finds Manon. She has also prayed fervently, that God would pardon her and help her to win back her lover's heart. A passionate scene ensues, in which Manon implores his forgiveness and is at last successful, De Grieux opens his arms to her and abandons his vocation.
The fourth act opens in the luxurious drawing-rooms of a great Paris Hotel. Games of hazard and lively conversation are going on everywhere. Manon arriving with de Grieux is joyously greeted by her old friends. She coaxes her lover to try his luck at play and is seconded by her cousin Lescaut, himself an inveterate gambler, who intimates that fortune always favours a beginner. Guillot offers to play with de Grieux, and truly fortune favours him. After a few turns, in which Guillot loses heavily, the latter rises accusing his partner of false play.
The Chevalier full of wrath is about to strike him, but the others hold him back and Guillot escapes, vowing vengeance. He soon returns with the police headed by the old Count de Grieux, towhom he denounces young de Grieux as a gambler and a cheat and points out Manon as his accomplice. Old Count de Grieux allows his son to be arrested, telling him he will soon be released. Poor Manon is seized by the guards, though all the spectators, touched by her youth and beauty beg for her release. The old Count says she only gets her deserts.
The last scene takes place on the highroad leading to Havre. Cousin Lescaut meets de Grieux whom he had promised to try to save Manon from penal servitude by effecting her escape. Unfortunately the soldiers he employed had meanly deserted him, on hearing which de Grieux violently upbraids him. Lescaut pacifies the desperate nobleman by saying that he has thought of other means of rescuing Manon. Soon the waggons conveying the convicts to their destination are heard approaching. One of these waggons stops. Lescaut, accosting one of the soldiers in charge hears that Manon is inside, dying. He begs that he may be allowed to take a last farewell of his little cousin, and bribing the man with money he succeeds in getting Manon out of the waggon, promising to bring her to the nearest village in due time.
Manon sadly changed totters forward and finds herself clasped in her lover's arms. For a little while the two forget all their woes in the joy of being together; Manon deeply repents of her sins and follies and humbly craves his pardon, whilehe covers her wan face with kisses. Then he tries to raise her, imploring her to fly with him, but alas release has come too late, she sinks back and expires in her lover's embrace.
This last part of the Tetralogy bears more decided indications of Wagner's influence than the others do; and though strikingly beautiful in many ways it fails to excite quite the same interest as the others, because it reminds us too much of the Nibelungen Ring, especially of Siegfried; nevertheless it deserves attention as the conclusion of the whole series and also on account of Bungert's adopting a later version of the story of Odysseus, whom Bungert does not suffer to die peacefully in his old age, but makes him fight as a hero to the very last.
The prelude opens in Kirke's gardens. The nymphs of the spring are singing to her, while her son Telegonos, a youth of 15 is playing with a lion. Kirke has often spoken to her son of his glorious father, whom he never saw and now his curiosity is awakened, and he asks his mother, why his father never comes home to her. Kirke now thinks that the time is come when she should reveal the story of her love to her son. He hears that his father is no god, but a human hero who after a short time of bliss remembered his earthly wifePenelopeia, and returned to her, leaving the goddess alone and broken hearted.—Telegonos determines to go forth in search of the hero of Troy and hopes to bring him back to his mother's arms. Kirke presents him with the golden cup, from which Odysseus once drank the magic draught of forgetfulness; she hopes to remind him thereby of their past bliss and thus to win him back.
The first act takes place in Thesprotia. Odysseus has just returned from a victory over the friends and relations of the insolent suitors he had slain on his return home; he has conquered their country and is now greeted with acclamations of joy by his warriors. Despoina, queen of Thesprotia, and once Penelope's attendant has been made prisoner and is to be put to death, but Telemachos, Odysseus' son fascinated by her beauty, intercedes for her. Odysseus resolves to let the oracle of Dodona decide her fate and Despoina is led back to the tent, but manages on the way to whisper to Telemachos, that she will expect him during the night.
Left alone, she intoxicates the guard by means of a sleeping-draught, and so Telemachos enters the tent unobserved. At first she beguiles him with a great show of tenderness. When he asks her from whence she comes, she tells him, that she never knew father nor mother, but that her nurse revealed to her that she is the daughter of Poseidon and of Persephone. After her nurse's death she became a priestess in Poseidon's temple, where she had seen Hyperion, with whom she had fallen in love, andwhom she had followed to Ithaka. There her lover having fallen under the spell of Penelope's beauty like all the others, and having met with an untimely death, Despoina had sworn vengeance on the whole house of Odysseus and to this end had married the barbarian king of Thesprotia. At this Telemachos turns shudderingly away from this mysterious woman and she makes use of the opportunity to take up his sword, with which she secretly and swiftly stabs the guard, sleeping heavily outside the tent. Then she tries again to gain ascendency over Telemachos, by assuring him of her love, but though full of pity for the unhappy and beautiful woman he turns from her and flies. A short time afterwards Odysseus enters to visit his captive, she also tries her arts on him but in vain, Odysseus hearing the shouts of his soldiers, leaves her, and all set out for Dodona.
The next scene shows the grove of Dodona with Jupiter's temple, bearing the inscription: Know thyself.
The priests sacrifice to the god singing: "Zeus (Jupiter) is, Zeus was, Zeus will be." Odysseus brings costly offerings and the three Peleiades appear, warning Odysseus not to slay Despoina, as vengeance belongs to Zeus alone but in vain Odysseus insists that she must die. Then the prophetesses grow wilder in their threats and the priests in dark words predict to Odysseus an untimely death through his own son; the sky becomes dark, the sacred spring bubbles and steams. Odysseus goaded to madness by Telemachos' entreaties for the lifeof Despoina the worst foe of his house, draws his sword upon his son. The latter throws away his weapons and offers his bare breast to his beloved father's stroke while the priests cry: "Woe to thee Odysseus!" Then the unhappy father coming to his senses seizes Despoina and drags her away, while the water quakes from the earth and the Peleiades tear their hair in wild despair.—
The prelude to the second act takes place in the grotto of the nymphs at Ithaka, where Telegonos has landed with his companions after a hard fight with the inhabitants of the island. Resting beside a spring he sees the reflection of his own image in it, and he begins to dream about his father and to long for his mother. This song, and the whole scene, with the water fairies emerging from the waves to look at the young hero remind very much of the scene between Siegfried and the Rhine-daughters.—The curtain falls and the first scene of the second act opens with the triumphant return of Odysseus to his palace.
He has conquered all his enemies and is joyously greeted by his people. Eumaeos however meets him with the bad news that during his master's absence a new enemy had appeared and had ravaged the country.—
Odysseus vows that he will drive the enemy off. He turns lovingly to his faithful Queen and assures her that he will now lay down the sword for the spade and will labour to insure peace and happiness to all those countries that are now his own. Heis however not without forebodings of evil remembering the prophesy: "When once thou exchangest the sword for the spade, then will the close of thy day be near."
Despoina's entrance interrupts this happy meeting. The she-devil dares to attack even Penelope's virtue, she goads Odysseus to fury, so that he is about to stab her. But when she tears open her dress, mockingly presenting her bosom to his sword, he turns from her ordering the guards to take her away and to put her to death on the following morning.
The next scene again shows Telegonos sleeping. Despoina awakes him. She has escaped from prison and, disguised as a young warrior has hastened hither to warn Telegonos. He receives her warnings with laughter for fear is unknown to him. When he calls his lions she faints with fright. Trying to revive her he opens her coat of mail and takes off her helmet and thus perceives that she is a woman. At this discovery his heart is suddenly inflamed with love for Despoina who is also madly in love with Telegonos. A passionnate love scene follows, ending by Telegonos telling her, that he is searching for his father Odysseus. She offers to show him the way, and armed with a sword she places herself with Telegonos at the head of his soldiers.—
In the third act Odysseus appears alone, stunned and terrified by his enemy's striking resemblance to Kirke. Wearied to death he lies downon a mossy bank and falls asleep. In his dream the three Fates appear before him; they have woven the web of his life which is approaching its end; Klotho lowers the distaff, Lachesis breaks the thread and the balance in Atropos' hand sinks. Odysseus awakening finds himself face to face with Telemachos, who once more throws himself in his father's arms, having thrown down his sword, and proving his love and faith in every way. Odysseus, at last persuaded of his affection returns his embrace. Hearing that Despoina is leading the enemy to battle he bids Telemachos to take her captive alive or dead, on which the son hastens away at once. Odysseus about to join his warriors is hindered by Telegonos, who attacks him. The unhappy father only defends himself feebly, quite unable to slay the radiant young hero. Suddenly the news reaches him, that the enemy headed by Despoina is gaining ground. Telegonos hearing her shouts is about to join her when Odysseus bars his way with those words: "Dos't know with whom thou fightest? I am Odysseus."—Alas, Telegonos cannot believe that this old and evidently decrepit man should be the famous hero; he reviles him, pressing him hard. When his companions' shouts of victory reach his ears he throws down his lance, and attacks Odysseus with his sword.—This is observed by Despoina, who has come up unobserved and picking up Telegonos' lance she with it stabs Odysseus in the back.
The hero falls, and Telegonos full of joy is about to embrace Despoina, when she pushes himback and pointing to the dying man says: "There lies thy father! Odysseus behold thy son!" Telegonos staggers back but as he is forced to recognize the awful truth he rushes upon the murderess with his drawn sword. Despoina however is too quick for him and stabs herself with her own dagger.—
In deep sorrow Telegonos kneels beside his father who embraces him tenderly. Thus they are found by Penelope and Telemachos. Only now does Odysseus confess the truth about his love for Kirke to his faithful wife, whom he had wanted to save from pain by withholding the knowledge of his infidelity. After a touching farewell Odysseus joins the hands of the two brothers and blessing his family and his people he dies erect, like the hero he has always been.