Part 19

The introduction with its wonderful Largo is like a mournful lamentation; then the curtain opens, showing the entry of a troop of wandering actors, so common in southern Italy. They are received with high glee by the peasants, and Canio, the owner of the troop, invites them all to the evening's play. Canio looks somewhat gloomy, and he very much resents the taunts of the peasants, who court his beautiful wife Nedda, and make remarks about the Fool's attentions to her. Nevertheless Canio gives way to his friends' invitation for a glass of Chianti wine, and he takes leave of his wife with a kiss, which however does not quite restore her peace of mind, Nedda's conscience being somewhat disturbed. But soon she casts aside all evil forebodings and vies with the birds in warbling pretty songs, which, though reminding the hearer of Wagner's Siegfried are of surpassing harmony and sweetness. Tonio the Fool, spying the moment to find Nedda alone, approaches her with a declaration of love, but she haughtily turns from him, and as he only grows more obtrusive and even tries to embrace her she seizes a whip and slaps him in the face. Provoked to fury he swears to {256} avenge himself. Hardly has he turned away when the peasant Silvio appears on the wall. He is Nedda's lover, and having seen Canio sitting in the tavern, he entreats her to separate herself from the husband she never loved and take flight with him. Nedda hesitates between duty and passion, and at last the latter prevails, and she sinks into his arms. This love-duet is wonderful in style and harmony. Tonio unfortunately has spied out the lovers and returns with Canio. But on perceiving the latter's approach Silvio has leapt over the wall, his sweetheart's body covering his own person, so that Canio is unable to recognize his rival; he once more reminds Nedda to be ready that night and than takes flight. With an inarticulate cry Canio rushes after him and Nedda falls on her knees to pray for her lover's escape, while Tonio the Fool triumphs over her misery. The husband however returns defeated; panting he claims the lover's name, and Nedda's lips remaining sealed, he is about to stab his wife, when Beppo the Harlequin intervenes, and, wrenching the dagger from his unfortunate master's hands intimates, that it is time to prepare for the play. While Nedda retires, Canio breaks out into a bitter wail of his hard lot, which compels him to take part in the farce, which for him is bitter reality. With this air the tragic height of the opera is reached.

In the second act the spectators throng before the small stage, each of them eager to get the best seat. Nedda appears, dressed as Colombine, {257} and while she is collecting the money, she finds time to warn Silvio of her husband's wrath. The curtain opens, and Nedda is seen alone on the stage, listening to the sentimental songs of Arlequin, her lover in the play. Before she has given him the sign to enter, Tonio, in the play called Taddeo the Fool enters, bringing the food which his mistress has ordered for herself and Arlequin. Just as it really happened in the morning, the poor Fool now makes love to her in play; but when scornfully repulsed he humbly retires, swearing to the goodness and pureness of his lady-love. Arlequin entering through the window, the two begin to dine merrily, but Taddeo reenters in mocking fright, to announce the arrival of the husband Bajazzo (Canio). The latter however is in terrible earnest, and when he hoarsely exacts the lover's name, the lookers-on, who hitherto have heartily applauded every scene, begin to feel the awful tragedy hidden behind the comedy. Nedda remains outwardly calm and mockingly she names innocent Arlequin as the one who had dined with her. Then Bajazzo begins by reminding her, how he found her in the street a poor waif and stray, whom he nursed, petted and loved, and Nedda remaining cold, his wrath rises to fury and he wildly curses her, shrieking "the name, I will know his name!" But Nedda, though false is no traitress. "Should it cost my life, I will never betray him" she cries, at the same time trying to save her life, by hurrying from the stage amongst the spectators. Too late alas; Canio {258} already has reached and stabbed her, and Silvio, who rushes forward, also receives his death-stroke from the hands of the deceived husband, who has heard his name slip from the dying lips of his wife. All around stand petrified, nobody dares to touch the avenger of his honor, who stands by his wife's corpse limp and brokenhearted: "Go", says he, "go, the farce is ended."

PARSIFAL.

A festival Drama by RICHARD WAGNER.

Though Parsifal is never to be given on any stage except in Baireuth (by Wagner's express wish), it must find its place here, by dint of being the master's last and most perfect composition.

In Parsifal the heavenly greatness of the Christian idea of God, which is at the foundation of the legend of the holy Grail, finds grand expression. There scarcely exists another composition of such lofty and religious spirit, as finds expression in the Communion-scene. It is not possible to imagine a more vivid contrast than that between the saintly melodies and those of the fascinating fairies, which latter, glowing with poetry and ravishing music captivate all senses.

The contents are those of the ancient German legend. The first scene is laid in a forest on the grounds of the keepers of the Grail near Castle Monsalvat. Old Gurnemanz awakes two young Squires for their morning prayer, and bids two {259} Knights prepare a bath for the sick King Amfortas who suffers cruelly from a wound, dealt him by the sorcerer Klingsor, the deadly foe of the holy Grail. The Grail is a sacred cup, from which Christ drank at the last Passover and which also received his holy blood. Titurel, Amfortas' father has built the castle to shield it, and appointed holy men for its service. While Gurnemanz speaks with the Knights about their poor master's sufferings, in rushes Kundry, a sorceress in Klingsor's service, condemned to laugh eternally as a punishment for having derided Christ, while he was suffering on the cross. She it was who with her beauty seduced Amfortas, and deprived him of his holy strength, so that Klingsor was enabled to wring from the King his holy spear Longinus, with which he afterwards wounded him. Kundry is in the garb of a servant of the Grail; she brings balm for the King, who is carried on to the stage in a litter, but it avails him not: "a guileless fool" with a child's pure heart; who will bring back the holy spear and touch him with it, can alone heal his wound.

Suddenly a dying swan sinks to the ground, and Parsifal, a young knight, appears. Gurnemanz reproaches him severely for having shot the bird, but he appears to be quite ignorant of the fact that it was wrong, and, when questioned, proves to know nothing about his own origin. He only knows his mother's name "Herzeleid", (heart's affliction), and Kundry, who recognizes him, relates, that his father Gamuret perished in battle, and that {260} his mother reared him, a guileless fool, in the desert. When Kundry mentions that his mother is dead, and has sent her last blessing to her son, Parsifal is almost stunned by this, his first grief. Gurnemanz conducts him to the castle, where the Knights of the Grail are assembled in a lofty hall. Amfortas is laid on a raised couch, and from behind, Titurel's voice is heard, imploring his son to efface his guilt in godly works. Amfortas, writhing with pain, is comforted by the prophesy:

"By pity lightened, the guileless fool"-- "Wait for him,--my chosen tool."

The Grail is uncovered, the blessing given, and the repast of love begins. Amfortas' hope revives, but towards the end his wound bursts out afresh. Parsifal, on hearing Amfortas' cry of agony clutches at his heart, without however understanding his own feelings.

The second act reveals Klingsor's magic castle.

Kundry, not as a demon now, but as a woman of imperious beauty, is awakened by Klingsor to seduce Parsifal. She yearns for pardon, for sleep and death, but she struggles in vain against the fiendish Klingsor.

The tower gradually sinks; a beautiful garden rises, into which Parsifal gazes with rapture and astonishment. Lovely maidens rush towards him, accusing him of having destroyed their lovers. Parsival surprised answers, that he slew them, because they checked his approach to their charms. But when their tenderness waxes hotter, he gently {261} repulses the damsels and at last tries to escape. He is detained however by Kundry, who tells him again of his beloved mother, and when Parsifal is sorrow-stricken at having forgotten her in his thoughtless rambles, she consoles him, pressing his lips with a fervent kiss. This rouses the dreamy youth, he awakes to his duty, he feels the King's spear-wound burning; the unconscious fool is a fool no longer, but conscious of his mission and distinguishing right from wrong. He calls to the Saviour to save him from a guilty passion, and at last he starts up, spurning Kundry. She tells him of her own crime, of Amfortas' fall and curses all paths and ways, which would lead him from her. Klingsor, appearing at her cry, flings the holy spear at Parsifal, but it remains floating over his head, and the youth, grasping it, destroys the magic by the sign of the cross.

In the third act Gurnemanz awakes Kundry from a death-like sleep, and is astonished to find her changed. She is penitent and serves the Grail. Parsifal enters from the woods. Gurnemanz recognizes and greets him, after his wanderings in search of the Grail which have extended over long years. Kundry washes his feet and dries them with her own hair. Parsifal, seeing her so humble, baptizes her with some water from the spring, and the dreadful laugh is taken from her; then she weeps bitterly. Parsifal, conducted to the King, touches his side with the holy spear and the wound is closed. Old Titurel, brought on the stage in his {262} coffin, revives once more a moment, raising his hands in benediction. The Grail is revealed, pouring a halo of glory over all. Kundry, with her eyes fixed on Parsival, sinks dead to the ground, while Amfortas and Gurnemanz render homage to their new King.

PHILÉMON AND BAUCIS.

Opera in two acts by CHARLES GOUNOD.

Text by JULES BARBIER and MICHEL CARRÉ, with an intermezzo.

This is a truly delightful musical composition and though unpretending and not on the level of Gounod's "Margaretha", it does not deserve to be forgotten.

The libretto is founded on the well-known legend.

In the first act Jupiter comes to Philémon's hut, accompanied by Vulkan to seek refuge from a storm, which the god himself has caused. He has come to earth to verify Mercury's tale of the people's badness, and finding the news only too true, besides being uncourteously received by the people around, he is glad to meet with a kindly welcome at Philémon's door.

This worthy old man lives in poverty, but in perfect content with his wife Baucis, to whom he has been united in bonds of love for sixty long years. Jupiter, seeing at once, that the old couple form an exception to the evil rule, resolves to spare them, and to punish only the bad folks. The gods partake of the kind people's simple meal, and {263} Jupiter, changing the milk into wine, is recognized by Baucis, who is much awed by the discovery. But Jupiter reassures her and promises to grant her only wish, which is, to be young again with her husband, and to live the same life. The god sends them to sleep, and then begins the intermezzo.

Phrygians are seen reposing after a festival, bacchants rush in and the wild orgies begin afresh. The divine is mocked and pleasure praised as the only god. Vulcan comes, sent by Jupiter to warn them, but as they only laugh at him, mocking Olympus and the gods, Jupiter himself appears to punish the sinners. An awful tempest arises, sending everything to rack and ruin.--

In the second act Philémon's hut is changed into a palace; he awakes to find himself and his wife young again. Jupiter, seeing Baucis' beauty, orders Vulkan to keep Philémon apart, while he courts her. Baucis though determined to remain faithful to her Philémon, feels nevertheless flattered at the god's condescension, and dares not refuse him a kiss. Philémon, appearing on the threshold sees it, and violently reproaches her and his guest, and though Baucis suggests who the latter is, the husband does not feel in the least inclined to share his wife's love even with a god. The first quarrel takes place between the couple, and Vulkan hearing it, consoles himself with the reflection that he is not the only one, to whom a fickle wife causes sorrow. Philémon bitterly curses Jupiter's gift; he wishes his wrinkles back, and with them his {264} peace of mind. Throwing down Jupiter's statue, he leaves his wife to the god. Baucis, replacing the image, which happily is made of bronze, sorely repents her behaviour towards her beloved husband. Jupiter finds her weeping, and praying that the gods may turn their wrath upon herself alone. The god promises to pardon both, if she is willing to listen to his love. She agrees to the bargain on the condition namely that Jupiter shall grant her a favor. He consents, and she entreats him to make her old again. Philemon, listening behind the door, rushes forward to embrace the true wife and joins his entreaties to hers. Jupiter, seeing himself caught, would fain be angry, but their love conquers his wrath. He does not recall his gift, but giving them his benediction, he promises never more to cross their happiness.

THE THREE PINTOS.

Comic Opera in three acts by C. M. v. WEBER.

After WEBER'S manuscripts and designs, and TH. HELL'S textbook. The musical part completed by GUSTAV MAHLER, the dramatic part by CARL VON WEBER.

Thanks to the incessant endeavours of Weber's grandson and of Gustav Mahler, the gifted disciple of Weber, a real treasure in German music has been disinterred from the fragments of the past, thus long after its composer's death. It is a striking illustration of the universality of Weber's genius that aught like this should prove to have been written by him, for his manuscript is a fragment {265} of a comic opera of the best kind. Although only seven parts were completed by the composer himself, Mahler took the remaining ten mostly from Weber's other manuscripts. He completed them himself so adroitly, that the best musicians cannot distinguish Weber from Mahler. We owe a debt of gratitude to both composer and poet, who have performed this act of piety towards the great deceased and at the same time have preserved us real musical pearls. The text is well done, though not important enough for three acts; two would have been quite sufficient.

The first scene takes us into a little village in Spain, where a student, Don Gaston Piratos bids farewell to his fellows. He is a gay and gallant youth, whose money dwindles to a paltry sum before mine host's long account. But this cunning host has a charming daughter Ines, and light-hearted Gaston flirts with the damsel, his servant Ambrosio valiantly assisting him.

The Kater-romance sung by Ines is as gracefull as it is droll and effective.

Don Pinto de Fonseca now arrives on horseback. He is so corpulent, that he is scarcely able to dismount, and he excites the curiosity and amusement of all. Having called for food and drink, he tells Gaston, that he comes to marry a rich and noble lady, Donna Clarissa de Pacheco. Fonseca's father has once rendered a great service to Don Pantaleone Roiz de Pacheco, and in reward he destined his only child Clarissa for Fonseca's {266} son. This promising young knight has a letter of recommendation from his father. He is in perplexity as to his behaviour towards such a young lady and Gaston offers to instruct him therein. Ambrosio acts as bride, Gaston shows how she is to be courted and Don Pinto gawkishly imitates his teacher's gestures. This

## scene is most irresistibly comic. When wine and food are brought by

Ines and her servants, Don Pinto so entirely absorbs himself in satisfying his hunger and thirst, that at last the wine gets the better of him. He falls asleep and Gaston, thinking it an injury to a noble lady to be wooed by such a clown, takes away old Fonseca's letter and departs with Ambrosio. Don Pinto is carried into the house on a grass-covered litter.

In the second act Don Pantaleone's servants are assembled in the ancestral hall, where their master announces to them the approaching arrival of Don Pinto, his daughter's future bridegroom. Donna Clarissa, who already loves Don Gomez Freiros, a knight of wealth, noble birth and bearing is in despair, as is also her lover, but Laura, her pretty maid promises to find ways and means to avert the dreaded marriage.

In the third act Laura and the servants are decorating the hall with flowers. The majordomo sends them away, proclaiming Don Pinto's arrival. All go except Laura, who hides behind a bosquet. Gaston, entering with Ambrosio sees all those preparations with wonder. Ambrosio detects Laura and according to his wont begins to court her. {267} Gaston warns the damsel, and she entering into the joke mockingly quits them. Gay Ambrosio is consoling himself in a charming song of which the burden is girls' fickleness, when Don Gomez enters and touches Gaston's kind heart by the description of his love for Clarissa. Gaston tenders him Fonseca's letter, counselling Gomez to play the part of Don Pinto, for Don Pantaleone has never seen either of them. Gomez accepts the letter gratefully from the supposed Don Pinto and presents it to Don Pantaleone, who has entered with his daughter and his whole suite. Of course the father, struck by the knight's noble bearing, gives his consent to the union with his daughter and adds his benediction. But their joy is disturbed by the entrance of the real Don Pinto, who at once begins wooing in the manner he has practised with Don Gaston.

The ridiculous fellow is thought mad and is about to be turned out, when catching sight of Gaston, he loudly accuses him of treachery. Gaston however draws his sword and menaces Don Pinto, upon which the poor swain cries for mercy and is thereafter removed from the hall amidst the laughter of the whole chorus.

Imagine the assistant's astonishment, when Gaston declares, that they have turned out the true Don Pinto. Gomez believing himself betrayed challenges Gaston, and the father rages against the two pretenders. But Clarissa pleads and Gaston quietly shows to Don Pantaleone the contrast {268} between the two suitors, while Gomez is obliged to acknowledge gratefully that he owes his lovely bride solely to Don Gaston's joke. So the lovers are united.

THE PIPER OF HAMELN.

Opera in five acts by VICTOR NESSLER.

Text by FR. HOFMANN from JULIUS WOLFF'S legend of the same name.

Without any preliminary introduction to the musical world Nessler wrote this opera and at once became, not only known, but a universal favorite; so much so that there is scarcely a theatre in Germany, in which this work of his is not now given.

The subject of the libretto is a most favorable one, like that of Nessler's later composition, "the Trumpeter of Saekkingen"; the principal personage Singuf, being particularly well suited for a first-rate stage hero.

Then Wolff's poetical songs are music in themselves, and it was therefore not difficult to work out interesting melodies, of which as a matter of fact we find many in this opera.

The scene of the following events is the old town of Hameln on the Weser in the year 1284. The citizens are assembled to hold council, as to how the rat-plague of the town is to be got rid of. No one is able to suggest a remedy when suddenly the clerk of the senate, Ethelerus, announces a stranger, who offers to destroy all the rats and mice in the place, solely by the might of his pipe. {269} Hunold Singuf, a wandering Bohemian, enters and repeats his offer, asking one hundred Marks in silver as his reward and forbidding anybody listen or to be present, while he works his charm.

The senators comply with his request, promising him in addition a drink from the town-cellar, when the last rat shall have disappeared, which is to be when the moon is full.

In the following scene the Burgomaster's daughter Regina is with her old cousin Dorothea. She expects her bridegroom, the architect of the town and son of the chief magistrate, Heribert Sunneborn, who has just returned home from a long stay abroad. While the lovers greet each other, Ethelerus, who has wooed Regina in vain, stands aside greatly mortified.

The second act opens in an inn, where Hunold makes the people dance and sing to his wonderful melodies. There he first sees the maid, who has appeared to him in his dreams. She is Gertrud, a fishermaiden and: To look is to love--they are attracted to each other as by a magic spell. Wulf, the smith, who loves Gertrud, sees it with distrust, but Hunold begins to sing his finest songs. In the evening the lovers meet before Gertrud's hut, and full of anxious forebodings, she tries to turn him from his designs and is only half-quieted, when he assures her that no fiendish craft is at work and that he will do it for the last time.

In the third act Ethelerus holds council with magister Rhynperg as to the means, by which they {270} can best succeed in teasing and provoking the proud Sunneborn. Hunold enters, and agreeable to an invitation of theirs, sits down to drink a bottle of wine. They make him drink and sing a good deal, and he boasts of being able to make the maidens all fall in love with him, if he chooses. Rhynperg suggests that he must omit the Burgomaster's daughter Regina, and he succeeds in making Hunold accept a wager, that he will obtain a kiss from her before his departure.

The following night Hunold accomplishes the exorcism of the rats, which may be seen running towards him from every part of the town and precipitating themselves into the river. Unhappily, Wulf, standing in a recess, has seen and heard all and coming forward to threaten Hunold, the latter hurls his dagger after him, upon which Wulf takes flight.