Emma awaits her lover George Dibdin, who is in Davenant's service. While she sings the ghastly romance of the Vampire, Lord Ruthven approaches, and by his sweet flattery and promise to help the lovers, he easily causes the simple maiden to grant him a kiss in token of her gratitude. In giving this kiss she is forfeited to the Evil One. George, who has seen all, is very jealous, though Emma tells him that the future son-in-law of the Laird of Davenant will make him his steward.
Meanwhile Aubry vainly tries to make Ruthven renounce Malwina. Ruthven threatens that Aubry himself will be condemned to be a Vampire, if he breaks his oath, and depicts in glowing colors the torments of a spirit so cursed. While Aubry hesitates as to what he shall do, Ruthven once more approaches Emma and succeeds in winning her consent to follow him to his den, where he murders her.
In the last scene Malwina, unable any longer to resist her father's will, has consented to the hateful marriage. Ruthven has kept away rather long and comes very late to his wedding. Aubry implores them to wait for the coming day, but in vain. Then he forgets his own danger and only sees that of his beloved, and when Ruthven is leading the bride to the altar, he loudly proclaims Ruthven to be a Vampire. At this moment a thunder-peal is heard and a flash of lightning destroys Ruthven, whose time of respite has ended at midnight. The old Laird, witnessing Heaven'spunishment, repents his error and gladly gives Malwina to her lover, while all praise the Almighty, who has turned evil into good.
In the first scene we are introduced into the dwelling of a mighty warrior, Hunding, in whose house Siegmund, a son of Wotan and of a mortal woman, has sought refuge, without knowing that it is the abode of an enemy. Sieglinda, Hunding's wife, who, standing alone and abandoned in the world, was forced into this union against her will, attracts the guest's interest and wins his love.
When Hunding comes home from the fight, he learns to his disgust, that his guest is the same warrior, who killed his kinsmen and whom they vainly pursued. The laws of hospitality forbid him to attack Siegmund under his own roof, but he warns him that he shall only await the morrow to fight him.
Sieglinda, having fallen in love with her guest mixes a powder with her husband's potion, which sends him into profound sleep. Then she returns to Siegmund, to whom she shows the hilt of the sword, thrust deep into the mighty ash-tree's stem, which fills the middle space of the hut. It has been put there by an unknown one-eyed wanderer, (Wotan, who once sacrificed one of his eyes to Erda, wishing to gain more knowledge for the sake of mankind). No hero has succeededuntil now in loosening the wondrous steel. Siegmund reveals to Sieglinda, that he is a son of the "Waelsung" and they recognize that they are twin brother and sister. Then Sieglinda knows that the sword is destined for Siegmund by his father, and Siegmund, with one mighty effort draws it out of the ash-tree. Sieglinda elopes with him and the early morning finds them in a rocky pass, evading Hunding's wrath.
In the second scene we see Wotan, giving directions to the Walkyrie Brünnhilde, who is to shield Siegmund in his battle with Hunding. Brünnhilde is Wotan's and Erda's child and her father's favorite. But Fricka comes up, remonstrating violently against this breach of all moral and matrimonial laws; she is the protector of marriages and most jealous of her somewhat fickle husband, and she forces Wotan to withdraw his protection from Siegmund and to remove the power of Siegmund's sword.
Wotan recalls Brünnhilde, changing his orders with heavy heart and sending her forth to tell Siegmund his doom. She obeys, but Siegmund scorns all her fine promises of Walhalla. Though he is to find his father there, and everything besides that he could wish, he prefers foregoing all this happiness, when he hears that Sieglinda, who has been rendered inanimate by grief and terror, cannot follow him, but must go down to "Hel" after her death, where the shadows lead a sad and gloomy existence.—He wins Brünnhilde by hislove and noble courage, and she for the first time resolves to disobey Wotan's orders given so unwillingly, and to help Siegmund against his foe.
Now ensues the combat with Hunding, Brünnhilde standing on Siegmund's side. But Wotan interferes, breaking Siegmund's sword; he falls, and Wotan kills Hunding too by one wrathful glance.
Then he turns his anger against the Walkyrie, who dared to disobey his commands and Brünnhilde flies before him, taking Sieglinda on her swift horse Grane, which bears both through the clouds.
In the third scene we find the Walkyries, arriving through the clouds on horseback one after the other. Every-one has a hero lying before her in the saddle. It is their office to carry these into Walhalla, while the faint-hearted, or those of mankind, not happy enough to fall in battle, are doomed to go to "Hel" after their death.
There are eight Walkyries without Brünnhilde, who comes last with Sieglinda in her saddle, instead of a hero. She implores her sisters to assist her and the unhappy woman. But they refuse, fearing Wotan's wrath. Then she resolves to save Sieglinda and to brave the results of her rash deed alone. She first summons back to the despairing woman courage and desire to live, by telling her, that she bears the token of Siegmund's love; then sends her eastward to the great forest with Grane, where Fafner the giant, changed into a dragon, guards the Rhinegold and the ill-fated ring, a spot which Wotan avoids.
She gives to Sieglinda the broken pieces of Siegmund's sword, telling her to keep them for her son, whom she is to call Siegfried and who will be the greatest hero in the world.
Wotan arrives in thunder and lightning. Great is his wrath, and in spite of the intercession of the other Walkyries, he deprives Brünnhilde of her immortality changing her into a common mortal. He dooms her to a long magic sleep, out of which any man, who happens to pass that way may awaken her and claim her as his property.
Brünnhilde's entreaties, her beauty and noble bearing at last prevail upon him, so that he encircles her with a fiery wall, through which none but a hero may penetrate.
After a touching farewell the God, leading her to a rocky bed, closes her eyes with a kiss, and covers her with shield, spear and helmet. Then he calls up Loge, who at once surrounds the rock on which Brünnhilde sleeps, with glowing flames.
This opera has met with great success both in France and elsewhere; it is a favorite of the public, though not free from imitating other musicians, particularly Auber and Rossini. The style of the text is somewhat bombastic, and only calculated for effect. Notwithstanding these defectsthe opera pleases; it has a brilliant introduction, as well as nice chorus-pieces and cavatinas.
In the first act Camilla, daughter of Count Lugano expects her bridegroom Alfonso di Monza, a Sicilian officer, for the wedding ceremony. Dandolo, her servant, who was to fetch the priest, comes back in a fright and with him the notorious Pirate-captain, Zampa, who has taken her father and her bridegroom captive. He tells Camilla who he is, and forces her to renounce Alfonso and consent to a marriage with himself, threatening to kill the prisoners, if she refuses compliance.—Then the pirates hold a drinking-bout in the Count's house, and Zampa goes so far in his insolence, as to put his bridal-ring on the finger of a marble statue, standing in the room. It represents Alice, formerly Zampa's bride; whose heart was broken by her lover's faithlessness; then the fingers of the statue close over the ring, while the left hand is upraised threateningly. Nevertheless Zampa is resolved to wed Camilla, though Alice appears once more, and even Alfonso, who interferes by revealing Zampa's real name and by imploring his bride to return to him, cannot change the brigand's plans. Zampa and his comrades have received the Viceroy's pardon, purposing to fight against the Turks, and so Camilla dares not provoke the pirate's wrath by retracting her promise. Vainly she implores Zampa to give her father his freedom and to let her enter a convent. Zampa, hoping that she only fears the pirate in him tells her, that he is Count of Monza,and Alfonso, who had already drawn his sword, throws it away, terrified to recognize in the dreaded pirate his own brother, who has by his extravagances once already impoverished him.
Zampa sends Alfonso to prison and orders the statue to be thrown into the sea. Camilla once more begs for mercy, but seeing that it is likely to avail her nothing, she flies to the Madonna's altar, charging him loudly with Alice's death. With scorn and laughter he seizes Camilla, to tear her from the altar, but instead of the living hand of Camilla, he feels the icy hand of Alice, who draws him with her into the waves.
Camilla is saved and united to Alfonso, while her delivered father arrives in a boat, and the statue rises again from the waves, to bless the union.
After a sleep of 125 years in the dust of Prince Esterhazy's archives at Eisenstadt, Dr. Hirschfeld received permission from Prince Paul Esterhazy of Galantha to copy the original manuscript.
It is Dr. Hirschfeld's merit to have revived and rearranged this charming specimen of the old master's genius. And again it was Ernst Schuch, the highly gifted director of the Dresden opera who had it represented on this stage in 1895, and st the same time introduced it to the Vienneseadmirers of old Haydn, by some of the best members of his company.
The music is truly Haydn'ish, simple, naïve, fresh and clear as crystal, and it forms an oasis of repose and pure enjoyment to modern ears, accustomed to and tired of the astonishing oddities of modern orchestration.
The plot is simple but amusing. A young man, Mengino, has entered the service of the apothecary Sempronio, though he does not possess the slightest knowledge of chemistry. His love for Sempronio's ward Grilletta has induced him to take this step and in the first scene we see him mixing drugs, and making melancholy reflections on his lot, which has led him to a master, who buries himself in his newspapers instead of attending to his business, and letting his apprentices go on as best they may.
Sempronio entering relates that the plague is raging in Russia; and another piece of news, that an old cousin of his has married his young ward, is far more interesting to him than all his drugs and pills, as he intends to act likewise with Grilletta. This young lady has no fewer than three suitors, one of whom, a rich young coxcomb enters to order a drug. His real intention is to see Grilletta. He is not slow to see, that Mengino loves her too, so he sends him into the drug kitchen, in order to have Grilletta all to himself. But the pert young beauty only mocks him, and at Mengino's return Volpino is obliged to retire.
Alone with Mengino, Grilletta encourages her timid lover, whom she likes very much, but just when he is about to take her hand Sempronio returns, furious to see them in such intimacy. He sends Mengino to his drugs and the young girl to her account books, while he buries himself once more in the study of his newspapers. Missing a map he is obliged to leave the room. The young people improve the occasion by making love, and when Sempronio, having lost his spectacles, goes to fetch them, Mengino grows bolder and kisses Grilletta. Alas, the old man returns at the supreme moment, and full of rage, sends each to his room.
Mengino's effrontery ripens the resolution in the guardian's breast to marry Grilletta at once, he is however detained by Volpino, who comes to bribe him by an offer from the Sultan to go into Turkey as apothecary at court, war having broken out in that country. The wily young man insinuates, that Sempronio will soon grow stone-rich, and offers to give him 10,000 ducats at once, if he will give him Grilletta for his wife. Sempronio is quite willing to accept the Sultan's proposal, but not to cede Grilletta. So he sends Mengino away, to fetch a notary, who is to marry him to his ward without delay. The maiden is quite sad, and vainly tortures her brain, how to rouse her timid lover into action. Sempronio, hearing her sing so sadly, suggests that she wants a husband and offers her his own worthy person. Grilletta accepts him, hoping to awaken Mengino's jealousy and to rouse him to action.The notary comes, in whom Grilletta at once recognizes Volpino in disguise. He has hardly sat down, when a second notary enters, saying that he has been sent by Mengino and claiming his due. The latter is Mengino himself, and Sempronio, not recognizing the two, bids them sit down. He dictates the marriage contract, in which Grilletta is said to marry Sempronio by her own free will besides making over her whole fortune to him. This scene, in which the two false notaries distort every word of old Sempronio's, and put each his own name instead of the guardian's, is overwhelmingly comical. When the contract is written, Sempronio takes one copy, Grilletta the other and the whole fraud is discovered.—Volpino vanishes, but Mengone promises Grilletta to do his best in order to win her.
In the last scene Sempronio receives a letter from Volpino, telling him, that the Pasha is to come with a suite of Turks to buy all his medicines at a high price, and to appoint him solemnly as the Sultan's apothecary. Volpino indeed arrives, with his attendants, all disguised as Turks, but he is again recognized by Grilletta. He offers his gold, and seizes Grilletta's hand, to carry her off, but Sempronio interferes. Then the Turks begin to destroy all the pots and glasses and costly medicines, and when Sempronio resents this, the false Pasha draws his dagger, but Mengino interferes and at last induces the frightened old man, to promise Grilletta to him, if he succeeds insaving him from the Turks. No sooner is the promise written and signed, than Grilletta tears off the Pasha's false beard and reveals Volpino, who retires baffled, while the false Turks drink the young couple's health at the cost of the two defeated suitors.
Djamileh was composed before Carmen, and was given in Paris in 1872. But after the years of war and bloodshed, its sweetness was out of place, and so it was forgotten, until it was revived again in Germany. Though the text is meagre, the opera had great success on the stages of Berlin, Leipsic, Vienna and Dresden, and so its Publisher, Paul Choudens in Paris was right, when he remarked years ago to a German critic: "l'Allemagne un jour comprendra les beautés de Djamileh."
There is no more exquisite music, than the romance of the boatsmen on the Nile, sung with closed lips at the opening of the first scene, and the ravishing dance of the Almée, an invention of Arabic origine is so original, so wild and melancholy and yet so sweet, that it enchants every musical ear. The plot is very simple and meagre.
Harun, a rich young Turk has enjoyed life to its very dregs. He gives dinners, plays at dice, he keeps women, but his heart remains cold and empty, he disbelieves in love, and only cares for absolute freedom in all his actions, but withal his life seems shallow and devoid of interest. Every month he engages a new female slave, with whom he idles away his days, but at the end of this time she is discarded. His antipathy for love partly arises from the knowledge of his father's unhappy married life.
At the opening of the scene Harun lies on a couch smoking, too lazy to move a finger and lulled into dreams by the boatsmen's songs. At last he rouses himself from his lethargy, and tells his secretary and former tutor Splendiano of his visions. The latter is looking over his master's accounts, and now tells him dryly, that, if he continues his style of living, he will be ruined before the end of the year. This scarcely moves the young man, to whom a year seems a long way off; he also takes it cooly, when Splendiano remarks, that the latest favorite's month is up, and that Djamileh is to leave towards evening, to make room to another beauty. Harun carelessly charges his servant to look out for another slave. When Splendiano sees, that Djamileh's unusual beauty has failed to impress his master, he owns to a tender feeling for her himself, and asks for permission to win the girl. Harun readily grants this request; but when he sees Djamileh enter with sad and dejected looks, hetenderly inquires, what ails her. She sings him a strange and melancholy "Ghasel" about a girl's love for a hero, and he easily guesses her secret. In order to console her, he presents her with a beautiful necklace, and grants her her freedom, at which she brightens visibly, but refuses it. Harun however has no idea of losing either heart or liberty, and when some friends visit him, he turns from her, to join them in a game, leaving her unveiled, and exposed to their insolent stares and admiration. Djamileh, covered with confusion, begins to weep, at which Splendiano interposes, trying to console her by the offer of his hand. Scornfully repulsed by her, he reveals to her the cruel play of his master, and her approaching dismissal, and drives her almost to despair. But she resolves to show her love to her master before she leaves him, and for this purpose entreats Splendiano to let her disguise herself and personate the new slave; promising to be his, if her plans should fail, but vowing to herself, to choose death rather than leave her beloved master. The evening approaches, and with it the slave-dealer with a whole bevey of beautiful young girls. Harun turns from them indifferently, ordering Splendiano to choose for him, but the slave-dealer insists upon showing up the pearl of his flock, a young Almée, who dances the most weird and passionate figures until she sinks back exhausted. She is selected, but Splendiano gives 200 zechines to the dealer, who consents to let her change clothes with Djamileh. When the latterreenters Harun's room veiled, he is astonished to find her so shy and sad. In vain he tries to caress her, she escapes him, but suddenly unveiling herself, he recognizes her. With wild and passionate entreaty she begs him to let her be a slave again, as she prefers his presence to freedom and fortune. At first he hesitates, but true love conquers, and he takes her in his arms. He has found his heart at last, and owns that love is stronger and better than any other charm.
Many are the authors, who have dramatized this old, but ever young and fresh comedy, but yet none have so nearly reached the ideal, as this young composer. His manner of interweaving Spanish national airs is particularly successful, because they tinge the piece with peculiar local colouring.
The Spanish melodies are chosen with exquisite elegance and skill.
Reznicek's manner of composing is thoroughly modern; he has learnt much from Wagner and Liszt and not least from Verdi's "Falstaff"; nevertheless he is always original, fresh and soamusing, so sparkling with wit and genius, that I am tempted to call Donna Diana the modern comic opera par excellence. Sometimes the orchestra is almost too rich for Moreto's playful subject, but this is also quite modern, and besides it offers coloristic surprises very rare in comic operas.
In the first act the waltz is particularly charming; in the second the ballet music and Floretta's song (im Volkston) are so beautiful that once heard they can never be forgotten. The bolero-rythme and the 3/8 measure are typical of the Spanish style, which flows through almost all the songs and recitations giving sparkling piquancy to the opera. In the last act, where love conquers intrigue and gaiety the music reaches its culminating point.
The scene is laid in Don Diego's palace at Barcelona at the time of Catalonia's independence, Don Cesar, Prince of Urgel is resting in Diego's Hall after having won the first prize in a tournament. He muses sadly on Donna Diana's coldness, which all his victories fail to overcome. Perrin the clown takes pity on him, and after having won his confidence, gives him the advice to return coldness for coldness. Don Cesar promises to try this cure, though it seems hard to hide his deep love.—Floretta, Donna Diana's foster-sister enters to announce the issue of the tournament. She fain would flirt with Perrin to whom she is sincerely attached, but he turns a cold shoulder to her and lets her depart in a rage, though he is over head and ears in love with the pretty damsel.—The next sceneopens on a brilliant crowd, all welcoming Count Sovereign of Barcelona and his daughter Donna Diana. The Count accosts them graciously, and making sign to the three gallant Princes, Don Cesar of Urgel, Don Louis of Bearne and Gaston Count de Foie, they advance to receive their laurels on bended knee from the fair hands of the Princess, who crowns Cesar with a golden wreath, while the two other princes each win a silver price.—When the ceremony is ended, Don Diego turns to his daughter, beseeching her to give an heir to the country by selecting a husband, but Diana declares, that though she is willing to bend to her father's will, love seems poison to her, and marriage death. Gaston and Louis, nothing daunted, determine to try their luck even against the fair lady's will, and while the father prays to God, to soften his daughter's heart, Cesar's courage sinks ever lower, though Perrin encourages him to begin the farce at once. Donna Diana alone is cool and calm, inwardly resolved to keep her hand and heart free, she is deeply envied by her two cousins Fenisa and Laura, who would gladly choose one of the gallant warriors.—Perrin now advises the Princes to try their wit and gallantry on the Princess, and Don Diego, consenting to his daughter's wish, that she need only suffer their courtship for a short time, she cooly accepts this proposal. Gaston begins to plead his cause, declaring, that he will not leave Barcelona without a bride and Louis follows his example; both are greatly admired and applauded by theassistants, only Diana finds their compliments ridiculous and their wit shallow. Cesar without a word retires to the background, and when asked by the Princess, why he does not compete with his rivals, answers "Because I will not love, nor ever wish to be loved; I only woo you, to show you my regard." Greatly mortified Diana resolves to punish such pride, by subjugating him to her charms.
In the second act a fancy ball is going on in the Prince's gardens. Each of the ladies has a bunch of different coloured ribbons, and decides to get the man she loves for her own. Diana now explains, that each knight is to choose a colour, which entitles him to own the lady who wears the same colours as long as the masquerade lasts. Don Louis choosing green gets Donna Laura, Don Gaston wearing red is chosen by Fenisa; Perrin loudly asserting that, abhorring love he chooses the obscure colour black, wins Floretta, and Don Cesar choosing white, finds himself Donna Diana's champion. She takes his arm, and soon her beauty so inflames him, that forgetting good advice and prudence he thrown himself at her feet, confessing his love. Triumphant, but mockingly she turns from him, and thereby suddenly recalls his pride. In a bantering tone he asks her, if she really believed, that his love making, to which duty compelled him for the evening, was true? Hot with wrath and shame at being so easily duped she bids him leave her, and when alone resolves to have her revenge. She calls Perrinto fetch her cousins, and charges him to let Cesar know, that he can hear her sing in the gardens. Then she is adorned with the most bewitching garments and surrounded by her attendants begins to play and sing most sweetly as soon as she hears Don Cesar's steps.—The latter would have succumbed to the temptation, if he had not been warned by Perrin, not to listen to the siren. So they philander in the grounds, admiring the plants, and to all appearance deaf to beauty and song. Impatiently Diana signs Floretta, to let Cesar know, that he is in the presence of his Princess, at which our hero like one awaking from a dream turns, and bowing to the Princess and excusing himself gravely, disappears, leaving Diana almost despairing.
In the third act Perrin gives vent to his happy feelings about his love for Floretta, and about the Princess, whose state of mind he guesses. He is delighted to see his scheme successful, and sings a merry air, which is heard by Diana. Behind the scene Don Louis is heard, bringing a serenade to Donna Laura, with whom he has fallen in love, and on the other side Don Gaston sings Fenisa's praise, so that poor Diana sinking back on a sopha is all at once surrounded by loving couples, who shamelessly carry on their courting before her very eyes, and then retire casting mischievous glances at their disgusted mistress. Diana who sees Cesar approaching, determines to try a last expedient, in order to humble his pride. Cooly she explains to him, that she has resolved to yield to her father'swish, and to bestow her hand on Prince Louis. For a moment Cesar stands petrified, but his guardian angel in the guise of Perrin whispers from behind the screen, to hold out, and not to believe in women's wiles. So he controls himself once more, and congratulates her, wishing the same courtesy from the Princess, because, as he calmly adds, he has got betrothed to Donna Laura.
That is the last stroke for Diana, her pride is humbled to the dust. All her reserve vanishes, when her secret love for the hero, which she has not even owned to herself, is in danger. She altogether breaks down, and so she is found by her father, who enters, loudly acknowledging Don Louis as his son-in-law, and sanctioning Don Cesar's choice of Donna Laura. But Cesar begs to receive his bride from Diana's own hands, at which the latter rising slowly, asks her father, if he is still willing to leave to her alone the selection of a husband. Don Diego granting this, she answers: "Then I choose him who conquered pride through pride." "And who may this happy mortal be?" says Cesar. "You ask? It's you my tyrant," she replies, and with these words sinks into her lover's open arms.
Poor Smetana! Nature had put on his brow the stamp of genius, but he never lived to see his glory. After grief and sorrow and direst need he died in a madhouse, and now posterity heaps laurels on his grave. The Sold Bride has been represented in Prague over 300 times, and it begins to take possession of every noted stage in Europe.
The subject forms a simple village-idyll, without any strong contrasts, its ethical motive lies in its representation of quaint old customs and in the deep-rooted patriotic love; but the whole opera is literally steeped in euphony.
The overture has its equal only in Figaro, and a perfect stream of national airs flows through the whole.
The first chorus "See the buds open on the bush" is most original, the national dance in the second act is full of fire and the rope dancers' march is truly Slavonic in its quaintness.
The scene is laid in a village in Bohemia. It is Spring-Kirmess, and everybody is gay. Only Mary, the daughter of the rich peasant Kruschina carries a heavy heart within her, for the day has come, on which the unknown bridegroom, chosen by her parents will claim her hand. She loves Hans, known to her as a poor servant, who has come to her village lately, and who is in reality her bridegroom'shalf brother. He consoles her, beseeching her to cheer up and be faithful to him, and then tells her, that he comes of wealthy people. Having lost his mother early, his father wedded a second wife, who estranged his heart from the poor boy so, that he had to gain his daily bread abroad. She deeply sympathizes with him, without guessing his real name.
Meanwhile Mary's parents approach with the matchmaker Kezul, a personage common in Bohemia, who has already won Kruschina's consent to his daughter's marriage with Wenzel, son of the rich farmer Micha by a second marriage. Mary's mother insisting that her child's will is to be consulted before all, the father consents to let her see the bridegroom, before she decides. Kezul, though angry at this unlooked for obstacle, excuses the bridegroom's absence volubly, and sings his praise loudly, at the same time touching upon the elder son's absence, and hinting, that he may probably be dead. When Mary steps in, Kezul wooes her in due form, but is at once repulsed by her. The young girl owns to having given her heart to the humble servant Hans, in whom nobody has yet recognized Micha's son. Father Kruschina angrily asserts his promise to Kezul, cursing Wenzel's timidity, which hindered him, from making his proposal in person. Kezul however resolves to talk Hans over to reason.
We find him in the second act, singing and highly praising the god of love. Afterwards thewould-be bridegroom Wenzel finds himself face to face with Mary, whom he does not know. When he tells her of his purpose, timidly and stammeringly, she asks him, if he is not ashamed to woo a girl, who loves another man, and who does not love him in the least. She at last so frightens the lad, that he promises to look out for another bride, if his mother permits it. Mary flirts with him, until he swears never to claim Kruschina's daughter.—Meanwhile Kezul does his best to convert Hans. He promises to provide for him another bride, much richer than Mary, but Hans refuses. He offers him money, first one, than two, than three hundred florins. Hans looking incredulous, asks "For whom are you wooing my bride?" "For Micha's son," the matchmaker replies. "Well," says Hans, "if you promise me, that Micha's son shall have her and no other, I will sign the contract, and I further stipulate, that Micha's father shall have no right to reclaim the money later; he is the one to bear the whole costs of the bargain." Kezul gladly consents and departs to fetch the witnesses, before whom Hans once more renounces his bride in favour of Micha's son. He cooly takes the money, at which they turn from him in disgust, and signs his name Hans Ehrentraut at the foot of the document.
The third act opens with a performance by tight-rope dancers. Wenzel, who has been quite despondent about his promised bride, is enraptured by their skill. He especially admires the Spanishdancer Esmeralda, who bewitches him so entirely, that he wooes her. The director of the band being in want of a dancing-bear, is not loth to take advantage of the lad's foolishness. He engages him as a dancer, and easily overcomes Wenzel's scruples by promising him Esmeralda's hand. Just when they are putting him in bear's skin his parents appear on the scene with the marriage contract. To their great dismay he refuses to sign it and when pressed, runs away.—Meanwhile Mary has heard of her lover's fickleness, which she would fain disbelieve, but alas Kezul shows her the document by which Hans renounces her. Nevertheless she refuses to wed any other man than the one her heart has chosen. Wenzel approaching again and recognizing in Mary the bride he had renounced, is now quite sorry to give her up, and very willing to take her if she will only yield. Mary, praying to be left alone for a little while, abandons herself to her grief and is thus found by Hans, whom she bitterly reproaches for his faithlessness. But he only smiles, and recalls the whole chorus, cooly saying that it is his wish that Mary should wed Micha's son. That is too much for poor Mary's feelings. She declares that she is ready to do as they wish, but before she signs the contract, Hans steps forth in full view of his parents, who at last recognize in him their long lost eldest son. Though his stepmother Agnes is in a rage about his trick, he claims his rights as son and heir, and the bride of course is not loth to choosebetween the two brothers. Kezul the matchmaker retires shamefaced, and when Wenzel shows himself in the last scene as a dancing-bear, and stammeringly assures the laughing public, that they need not be afraid of him, as he is "not a bear but only Wenzel", the final blow is dealt whereby he loses all favour in the eyes of Kruschina, who is now quite reconciled to give his daughter to Micha's elder son.
Auber's success with the opera of the same name inspired Verdi to try his hand at it too. He ordered his friend Piave to write the libretto for him and in 1854 the opera was handed to the San Carlo theatre in Naples, but was refused on the ground, that the murder of a king must not be represented on the stage. Then Verdi laid the scene in Boston, and in this shape the opera was performed in Rome on Feb. 17th, 1859 and met with great success.
From this time it conquered the stages of Europe, all but one, Auber's widow having stipulated that no opera rival to that of her husband's was to be given in Paris. The Ballo in Maschera has been revived in Dresden in October 1897, after having lain buried for over 15 years; its success showed, that it is still full of vitality. The music is exceedingly fresh and characteristic; indeed it surpasses both Trovatore and Rigoletto in beauty and originality. Verdi has scarcely ever written anything finer than the Ensemble at the end of the second act, and the delightful quartette "Is it a jest or madness, that comes now from her lips."
The libretto may be explained shortly, as it is almost identical with Auber's "Masked Ball".
Count Richard, governor of Boston is adored by the people but hated by the noblemen, who resolve upon his death. He loves Amelia, thewife of his secretary and best friend René, who in vain tries to warn him of the plots of his enemies, but who faithfully watches over his safety.
An old sorceress of negro blood Ulrica, is to be banished by the decree of the high Judge, but Richard's page Oscar speaks in her favour, and the count decides to see her himself and test her tricks. He invites his lords to accompany him to the sybil's dwelling, and orders Oscar to bring him a fisherman's disguise. His enemies Samuel and Tom follow him.
The second act shows Ulrica in her cottage seated at a table conjuring Satan. A crowd of people are around her, amongst them Richard in disguise. A sailor Sylvan advances first to hear his fate, and while Ulrica is prophesying that better days await him, Richard slips a roll of gold with a scroll into Sylvan's pocket and so makes the witch's words true. Sylvan searching in his pockets finds the gold and reads the inscription on the scroll: "Richard to his dear officer Sylvan", and all break out into loud praises of the clever sybil.
A short while after a servant announces Amelia, and the sorceress driving the crowd away ushers her in, while Richard conceals himself. He listens with delight to the confession of her sinful love to himself, against which she asks for a draught, which might enable her to banish it from her heart. Ulrica advises her to pluck a magic herb at midnight, which grows in the field where the criminals are executed. Amelia shudders but promises to do as she is bidden, while Richard secretly vows tofollow and protect her. Amelia departs and the people flock in again. Richard is the first to ask what is his fate. The sybil reluctantly tells him that his life is to be destroyed by the first person who shall touch his hand on this very day. Richard vainly offers his hand to the bystanders, they all recoil from him, when suddenly his friend René comes in, and heartily shakes Richard's outstretched hand. This seems to break the spell, for everybody knows René to be the count's dearest friend, and now believes the oracle to be false. Nevertheless Ulrica, who only now recognizes the count, warns him once more against his enemies, but he laughs at her, and shows the sorceress the verdict of her banishment, which however he has cancelled. Full of gratitude Ulrica joins in the universal song of praise, sung by the people to their faithful leader.
The third act opens on the ghostly field where Amelia is to look for the magic herb. She is frozen with horror believing that she sees a ghost rise before her; Richard now turns up, and breaks out into passionate words, entreating her to acknowledge her love for him. She does so, but implores him at the same time, not to approach her, and to remain true to his friend. While they speak René surprises them. He has followed Richard to save him from his enemies, who are waiting to kill him. Richard wraps himself in his friend's cloak, after having taken René's promise to lead the veiled lady to the gates of the town, without trying to look at her. René swears, but fate wills it otherwise, forhardly has Richard departed, when the conspirators throng in, and enraged at finding only the friend, try to tear the veil off the lady's face. René guards her with his sword, but Amelia springing between the assailers lets fall her veil, and reveals her face to her husband and to the astonished men, thereby bringing shame and bitter mockery on them both. René, believing himself betrayed by wife and friend, asks the conspirators to meet him in his own house on the following morning, and swears to avenge the supposed treachery.
In the fourth act in his own house René bids his wife prepare herself for death. He disbelieves in her protest of innocence, but at last, touched by her misery he allows her to take a last farewell of her son. When she is gone, he resolves rather to kill the seducer than his poor weak wife. When the conspirators enter he astonishes them by his knowledge of their dark designs, but they wonder still more, when he offers to join them in their evil purpose. As they do not agree, who it shall be that is to kill Richard, René makes his wife draw the lot from a vase on the table. The chosen one is her own husband.—At this moment Oscar enters with an invitation to a masked ball from the court. René accepts, and the conspirators decide to seize the opportunity, to put their foe to death. They are to wear blue dominos with red ribbons; their pass word is "death."
The next scene shows a richly decorated ballroom. René vainly tries to find out the count'sdisguise, until it is betrayed to him by the page who believes that René wants to have some fun with his master. Amelia waylaying Richard implores him, to fly, and when he disbelieves her warnings, shows him her face. When he recognizes her, he tenderly takes her hand, and tells her that he too has resolved to conquer his passion, and that he is sending her away to England with her husband. They are taking a last farewell, but alas, fate overtakes Richard in the shape of René, who runs his dagger through him. The crowd tries to arrest the murderer, but the dying count waves them back and with his last breath tells his unhappy friend, that his wife is innocent. Drawing forth a document and handing it to René the unfortunate man reads the count's order to send them to their native country. Richard pardons his misguided friend and dies with a blessing on his beloved country.
With this opera Goldmark has entered a novel way in composing. He has renounced all sensational effects and has produced an opera, which is full of charming melodies, but which lacks the high dramatic verve to which we are accustomed from this composer; there are however remarkably fine pieces in the whole, the best of them being Dot's dancing song in the second act, the quintette at the end ofit, and the prelude in the third act, into which Goldmark has interwoven the popular song "Weisst Du, wie viel Sternlein stehen."
The story is soon told, as everybody is supposed to know its contents from Dickens' famous fairy-tale. That it is less pretty than the original, is not Mr. Willner's fault, who did his best to endue it with dramatic strength, and to make it more effective, an elevation to which the tale never aspired, its poetic simplicity being its great charm.
The scene is laid in an English village.
The cricket, a little fairy, lives with a postilion John and his wife Dot. They are a happy couple, the only thing wanting to their complete happiness being children, and even this ardent wish Dot knows will be fulfilled before long.
A young doll-maker May visits Dot to unburden her heavy heart. The young girl is to marry her old and rich employer Tackleton, in order to save her foster-father from want, but she cannot forget her old sweetheart, a sailor named Eduard, who left her years ago, never to come back. Dot tries to console her, and gives her food for her old father. When May has taken leave, Dot's husband John enters, bringing a strange guest with him.
It is Eduard, who has however so disguised himself, that nobody recognizes him. Dot receives him hospitably, and while he follows her in another room, a very lively scene ensues, all the village people flocking in to receive their letters and parcels at John's hands.