Part 12

All are horror-stricken, and falling on their knees, they crave Poseidon's pardon.--While they yet kneel, loud songs of triumph are heard, and Idamantes returns victorious from his fight with the monster.

With noble courage he throws himself at his father's feet, imploring his benediction and--his death. For having heard of his father's unhappy vow, he now comprehends his sorrow, and endeavours to lessen his grief.

Idomeneus, torn by conflicting feelings at last is about to grant his son's wish, but when he lifts his sword, Ilia throws herself between, imploring him to let her be the victim. A touching scene ensues between the lovers, but Ilia gains her point. {145} Just when she is about to receive her death-stroke, Poseidon's pity is at last aroused. In thunder and lightning he decrees, that Idomeneus is to renounce his throne in favor of Idamantes, for whose spouse he chooses Ilia.

In a concluding scene we see Electra tormented by the furies of hate and jealousy. Idomeneus fulfils Poseidon's request, and all invoke the God's benediction on the happy Royal house of Crete.

JEAN DE PARIS.

Comic Opera in three acts by ADRIEN BOIELDIEU.

Text by St. JUST.

After a lapse of many years this spirited little opera has again been put upon the stage and its success has shown, that true music never grows old.

Next to the "Dame blanche" Jean de Paris is decidedly the best of Boieldieu's works; the music is very graceful, fresh and lively, and the plot, though simple and harmless is full of chivalric honor and very winning.

The scene takes us back to the 17th century and we find ourselves in an inn of the Pyrenees.

The young and beautiful Princess of Navarre being widowed and her year of mourning having passed, is induced by her brother, the King of Navarre, to marry again. The French Crown-Prince has been selected by the two courts as her future husband, but both parties are of a somewhat romantic turn of mind and desire to know each other, before being united for life.

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For this purpose the Prince undertakes a journey to the Pyrenees, where he knows the Princess to be.

In the first scene we see preparations being made for the reception of the Princess, whose arrival has been announced by her Seneshal. In the midst of the bustle there enters a simple Page to demand rooms for his master. As he is on foot the host treats him spitefully, but his daughter Lorezza, pleased with his good looks, promises him a good dinner. While they are still debating, the numerous suite of the Prince comes up and without further ado takes possession of the house and stables, which have been prepared for the Princess and her people. The host begins to feel more favorably inclined towards the strange Seigneur, though he does not understand, how a simple citizen of Paris (this is the Prince's incognito), can afford such luxury.

By the time "Monsieur Jean de Paris" arrives the host's demeanour has entirely changed and seeing two large purses with gold, he abandons the whole house to the strange guest, hoping that he shall have prosecuted his journey before the arrival of the Princess. But he has been mistaken, for no sooner are Jean de Paris' people quartered in the house, than the Seneshal, a pompous Spanish Grandee arrives, to announce the coming of the Princess. The host is hopelessly embarrassed and the Seneshal rages at the impudence of the citizen, but Jean de Paris quietly intimates, that the house {147} and everything in it are hired by him, and courteously declares, that he will play the host and invite the Princess to his house and dinner.

While the Seneshal is still stupefied by such unheard-of impudence, the Princess arrives, and at once takes everybody captive by her grace and loveliness. Jean de Paris is fascinated and the Princess who instantly recognizes in him her future bridegroom, is equally pleased by his appearance, but resolves to profit and to amuse herself by her discovery.

To the Seneshal's unbounded surprise she graciously accepts Jean's invitation.

In the second act the preparations for the dinner of the honored guests have been made. Olivier the Page shows pretty Lorezza the minuets of the ladies at court, and she dances in her simple country-fashion, until Olivier seizes her and they dance and sing together.

Jean de Paris stepping in, sings an air in praise of God, beauty and chivalry and when the Princess appears, he leads her to dinner, to the unutterable horror of the Seneshal. Dinner, service, plate, silver, all is splendid and all belongs to Jean de Paris, who sings a tender minstrel's-song to the Princess; she sweetly answers him, and telling him, that she has already chosen her knight, who is true, honest and of her own rank, makes him stand on thorns for a while, lest he be too late,--until he perceives that she only teazes in order to punish him for his own comedy. Finally they are {148} enchanted with each other, and when the people come up, the Prince, revealing his true name, presents the Princess as his bride, bidding his suite render homage to their mistress. The Seneshal humbly asks forgiveness, and all unite in a chorus in praise of the beautiful pair.

JESSONDA.

Opera in three acts by LOUIS SPOHR.

Text by HENRY GEHE.

Spohr wrote this opera by way of inauguration to his charge as master of the court-chapel at Cassel, and with it he added to the fame, which he had long before established as master of the violin and first-rate composer. His music is sublime, and sheds a wealth of glory on the somewhat imperfect text.

The story introduces us to Goa on the coast of Malabar at the beginning of the 16th century.

A Rajah has just died and is bewailed by his people, and Jessonda, his widow, who was married to the old man against her will, is doomed to be burnt with him, according to the country's laws. Nadori, a young priest of the God Brahma is to announce her fate to the beautiful young widow. But Nadori is not a Brahmin by his own choice; he is young and passionate, and though it is forbidden to him to look at women, he at once falls in love with Jessonda's sister Amazili, whom he meets when on his sad errand. He promises to help her in saving her beloved sister from a terrible death.

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Jessonda meanwhile hopes vainly for the arrival of the Portuguese General, Tristan d'Acunha, to whom she pledged her faith long ago, when a cruel fate separated her from him. She knows that the Portuguese are at this moment besieging Goa, which formerly belonged to them. Jessonda is accompanied by her women through the Portuguese camp, to wash away in the floods of the Ganges the last traces of earthliness. She sacrifices a rose to her early love.

Turning back into the town, she is recognized by Tristan, but alas, a truce forbids him to make an assault on the town in order to deliver his bride. Jessonda is led back in triumph by the High-priest Daudon, to die an untimely death.

In the third act Nadori visits Tristan in secret, to bring the welcome news that Daudon himself broke the truce, by sending two spies into the enemy's camp to burn their ships. This act of treachery frees Tristan from his oath. Nadori conducts him and his soldiers through subterranean passages into the temple, where he arrives just in time to save Jessonda from the High-priest's sword. She gives him hand and heart, and Nadori is united to her sister Amazili.

INGRID.

Opera in two acts by KARL GRAMANN.

Text by T. KERSTEN.

Ingrid is a musical composition of considerable interest, the local tone and colouring being so well {150} hit. It is a Norwegian picture with many pretty and original customs, to which the music is well adapted and effective, without being heart-stirring.

The scene is laid in Varö in Norway. Helga the rich Norwegian peasant Wandrup's daughter is to wed Godila Swestorp, her cousin, and the most desirable young man in the village. She entertains but friendly feelings for him while her heart belongs to a young German traveller, and Godila, feeling that she is different from what she was, keeps jealous watch over her, and swears to destroy his rival.

In the second scene Ingrid, a young girl (coach-maid), whose business it is to direct the carioles from station to station, drives up with the German Erhard, who meeting with a severe accident in the mountains, is saved by her courage. Full of tenderness she dresses his wounds; he thanks her warmly, and presents her with a miniature portrait of his mother. She mistakes her gratitude for love, and it fills her with happiness, which is instantly destroyed, when Helga appears and sinks on the breast of her lover. Ingrid, a poor orphan, who never knew father or mother, is deeply disappointed and bitterly reproaches heaven for her hard fate. The scene is witnessed by old father Wandrup, in whose heart it arouses long buried memories and he tries to console Ingrid. But when she claims the right to hear more of her parents he only says, that she was found a babe at his threshold {151} twenty-five years ago, and that nothing was ever heard of her father and mother.

The second act opens with a pretty national festival, in which the youths and maidens, adorned with wild carnations wend their way in couples to Ljora (love's-bridge in the people's mouth), from whence they drop their flowers into the foaming water. If they chance to be carried out to sea together, the lovers will be united, if not, woe to them, for love and friendship will die an untimely death.--Godila tries to offer his carnations to Helga, but she dextrously avoids him, and succeeds in having a short interview with Erhard, with whom she is to take flight on a ship, whose arrival is just announced. Erhard goes off to prepare everything, and a few minutes afterwards Helga comes out of the house in a travelling dress. But Godila, who has promised Wandrup to watch over his daughter, detains her.

Wild with love and jealousy he strains her to his breast and drags her towards the Ljora-bridge. Helga vainly struggles against the madman, but Ingrid, who has witnessed the whole occurence, waves her white kerchief in the direction of the ship, and calls back Erhard, who is just in time to spring on the bridge, when its railing gives way, and Godila, who has let Helga fall at the approach of his enemy, is precipitated into the waves. Erhard tries to save him, but is prevented by Ingrid, who intimates that all efforts would be useless. Helga in a swoon is carried to the House, when Wandrup, {152} seeing his child wounded and apparently lifeless, calls Godila, and hears with horror that his body has been found dashed to pieces on the rocks. Now the father's wrath turns against Erhard, in whom he sees Godila's murderer, but Ingrid, stepping forth, relates how the catastrophe happened, and how Godila seemed to be punished by heaven for his attack on Helga. Everybody is touched by poor despised Ingrid's unselfishness, she even pleads for Helga's union with Erhard, nobly renouncing her own claims on his love and gratitude. Wandrup relents and the happy lovers go on the Ljora-bridge, whence their carnations float out to sea side by side. The ship's departure is signalled, and all accompany the lovers on board. Only Ingrid remains. Her strength of mind has forsaken her; a prey to wild despair she resolves to destroy herself. Taking a last look at Erhard's gift, the little medallion-picture, she is surprised by Wandrup, who recognizes in it his own dead love. "She is thy mother too Ingrid", he cries out. "My mother, she, and Erhard my brother!"--This is too much for Ingrid; with an incoherent cry she rushes on the bridge intending to throw herself over. But Wandrup beseechingly stretches out his arms, crying "Ingrid, stay, live for thy father". At first the unhappy girl shrinks back, but seeing the old man's yearning love she sinks on her knees, then slowly rising, she returns to her father, who folds her in loving embrace.

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IPHIGENIA IN AULIS.

Grand Opera in three acts by GLUCK.

Text of the original rearranged by R. WAGNER.

This opera, though it does not stand from the point of view of the artist on the same level with Iphigenia in Tauris, deserves nevertheless to be represented on every good stage. It may be called the first part of the tragedy, and Iphigenia in Tauris very beautifully completes it. The music is sure to be highly relished by a cultivated hearer, characterized as it is by a simplicity which often rises into grandeur and nobility of utterance.

The first scene represents Agamemnon rent by a conflict between his duty and his fatherly love; the former of which demands the sacrifice of his daughter, for only then will a favorable wind conduct the Greeks safely to Ilion. Kalchas, the High-priest of Artemis, appears to announce her dreadful sentence. Alone with the King, Kalchas vainly tries to induce the unhappy father to consent to the sacrifice.

Meanwhile Iphigenia, who has not received Agamemnon's message, which ought to have prevented her undertaking the fatal journey, arrives with her mother Klytemnestra. They are received with joy by the people. Agamemnon secretly informs his spouse, that Achilles, Iphigenia's betrothed, has proved unworthy of her, and that she is to return to Argos at once.--Iphigenia gives way to her feelings. Achilles appears, the lovers are soon reconciled and prepare to celebrate their nuptials.

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In the second act Iphigenia is adorned for her wedding and Achilles comes to lead her to the altar, when Arkas, Agamemnon's messenger, informs them that death awaits Iphigenia.

Klytemnestra in despair appeals to Achilles and the bridegroom swears to protect Iphigenia. She alone is resigned in the belief, that it is her father's will that she should face this dreadful duty. Achilles reproaches Agamemnon wildly and leaves the unhappy father a prey to mental torture. At last he decides to send Arkas at once to Mykene with mother and daughter and to hide them there, until the wrath of the goddess be appeased. But it is too late.

In the third act the people assemble before the Royal tent and with much shouting and noise demand the sacrifice. Achilles in vain implores Iphigenia to follow him. She is ready to be sacrificed, while he determines to kill anyone, who dares touch his bride. Klytemnestra then tries everything in her power to save her. She offers herself in her daughter's stead and finding it of no avail at last sinks down in a swoon. The daughter, having bade her an eternal farewell, with quiet dignity allows herself to be led to the altar. When her mother awakes, she rages in impotent fury; then she hears the people's hymn to the goddess, and rushes out to die with her child.--The scene changes.--The High-priest at the altar of Artemis is ready to pierce the innocent victim. A great tumult arises, Achilles with his native Thessalians makes his way through {155} the crowd, in order to save Iphigenia, who loudly invokes the help of the goddess. But at this moment a loud thunder-peal arrests the contending parties, and when the mist, which has blinded all, has passed, Artemis herself is seen in a cloud with Iphigenia kneeling before her.

The goddess announces that it is Iphigenia's high mind, which she demands and not her blood, she wishes to take her into a foreign land, where she may be her priestess and atone for the sins of the blood of Atreus.

A wind favorable to the fleet has risen, and the people filled with gratitude and admiration behold the vanishing cloud and praise the goddess.

IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS.

Opera in four acts by GLUCK.

Text by GUILLARD.

Gluck's Iphigenia stands highest among his dramatic compositions. It is eminently classic and so harmoniously finished, that Herder called its music sacred.

The libretto is excellent. It follows pretty exactly the Greek original.

Iphigenia, King Agamemnon's daughter, who has been saved by the goddess Diana (or Artemis) from death at the altar of Aulis, has been carried in a cloud to Tauris, where she is compelled to be High-priestess in the temple of the barbarous Scythians. There we find her, after having performed her cruel service for fifteen years.--Human {156} sacrifices are required, but more than once she has saved a poor stranger from this awful lot.

Iphigenia is much troubled by a dream, in which she saw her father deadly wounded by her mother and herself about to kill her brother Orestes. She bewails her fate, in having at the behest of Thoas, King of the Scythians, to sacrifice two strangers, who have been thrown on his shores. Orestes and his friend Pylades, for these are the strangers, are led to death, loaded with chains.

Iphigenia, hearing that they are her countrymen, resolves to save at least one of them, in order to send him home to her sister Electra. She does not know her brother Orestes, who having slain his mother, has fled, pursued by the furies, but an inner voice makes her choose him as a messenger to Greece. A lively dispute arises between the two friends; at last Orestes prevails upon Iphigenia to spare his friend, by threatening to destroy himself with his own hands, his life being a burden to him. Iphigenia reluctantly complies with his request, giving the message for her sister to Pylades.

In the third act Iphigenia vainly tries to steel her heart against her victim. At last she seizes the knife, but Orestes' cry: "So you also were pierced by the sacrificial steel, O my sister Iphigenia!" arrests her; the knife falls from her hands, and there ensues a touching scene of recognition.

Meanwhile Thoas, who has heard that one of the strangers was about to depart, enters the temple with his body-guard, and though Iphigenia tells {157} him, that Orestes is her brother and entreats him so spare Agamemnon's son, Thoas determines to sacrifice him and his sister Iphigenia as well. But his evil designs are frustrated by Pylades, who, returning with several of his countrymen, stabs the King of Tauris. The goddess Diana herself appears and helping the Greeks in their fight, gains for them the victory. Diana declares herself appeased by Orestes' repentance and allows him to return to Mykene with his sister, his friend and all his followers.

JOSEPH IN EGYPT.

Opera in three acts by ETIENNE HENRY MEHUL.

Text after ALEXANDER DUVAL.

This opera, which has almost disappeared from the French stage, is still esteemed in Germany and always will be so, because, though clad in the simplest garb, and almost without any external outfit, its music is grand, noble and classic; it equals the operas of Gluck, whose influence may be traced, but it is free from all imitation. Here we have true music, and the deep strain of patriarchal piety so touching in the Biblical recital finds grand expression.

Joseph, the son of Jacob, who was sold by his brothers, has by his wisdom saved Egypt from threatening famine; he resides as governor in Memphis under the name of Cleophas. But though much honored by the King and all the people, he never ceases to long for his old father, whose favorite child he was.

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Driven from Palestine by this same famine, Jacob's sons are sent to Egypt to ask for food and hospitality. They are tormented by pangs of conscience, which Simeon is hardly able to conceal, when they are received by the governor, who at once recognized them. Seeing their sorrow and repentance, he pities them, and promises to receive them all hospitably. He does not reveal himself but goes to meet his youngest brother Benjamin and his blind father, whose mourning for his lost son has not been diminished by the long years. Joseph induces his father and brother to partake in the honors, which the people render to him. The whole family is received in the governor's palace, where Simeon consumed by grief and conscience-stricken at last confesses to his father the selling of Joseph. Full of horror Jacob curses and disowns his ten sons. But Joseph intervenes. Making himself known, he grants full pardon and entreats his father to do the same.

The old man yields, and together they praise God's providence and omnipotence.

IRRLICHT.

(WILL-O'-THE WISP.)

Opera in one act by KARL GRAMANN.

Text by KURT GEUCKE.

With "Irrlicht" the composer takes a step towards verisme; both, subject and music are terribly realistic, though without the last shade of triviality. The music is often of brilliant dramatic effect, {159} and the fantastic text, well matching the music, is as rich in thrilling facts as any modern Italian opera. Indeed this seems to be by far the best opera, which the highly gifted composer has written.