Part 26
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 Spanish {366} dancer 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 choose {367} between 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.
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BALLO IN MASCHERA.
A Lyric Drama in five acts by VERDI.
Text by F. M. PIAVE.
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, the {369} wife 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 to {370} follow 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, for {371} hardly 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's {372} disguise, 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.
THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.
Opera in three acts by CARL GOLDMARK.
Text after Dickens' tale by M. WILLNER.
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 of {373} it, 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.
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In the second act John rests from his labour in his garden, while Dot, who finds her husband, who is considerably older than herself, somewhat too self-confident and phlegmatic, tries to make him appreciate her more by arousing his jealousy. While they thus talk and jest May enters, followed by her old suitor, who has already chosen the wedding-ring for her. Eduard listens to his wooing with ill concealed anxiety, and Tackleton, not pleased to find a stranger in his friend's house, gruffly asks his name. The strange sailor tells him, that he left his father and his sweetheart to seek his fortune elsewhere, and that he has come back rich and independent, only to find his father dead and his sweetheart lost to him. His voice moves May strangely, but Tackleton wants to see his riches. Eduard shows them some fine jewels, which so delight Dot, that she begins to adorn herself with them and to dance about the room. Eduard presents her with a beautiful cross, and seizes the opportunity to reveal to her his identity, entreating her not to betray him. Then he turns to May, begging her to chose one of the trinkets, but Tackleton interferes, saying that his promised bride does not need any jewels from strange people. Dot is greatly embarrassed, and Tackleton, mistaking her agitation, believes, that she has fallen in love with the sailor, and insinuates as much to her husband, whom he invites to have a glass of beer with him.
This unusual generosity on the part of the avaricious old man excites the clever little wife's {375} suspicion. May having withdrawn, she greets the friend of her youth with great ostentation (knowing herself secretly watched by John and Tackleton), and promises to help him to regain his sweetheart. John and his friend, who suddenly return, see them together, and poor old John gets wildly jealous. But when he is alone, he falls asleep and the faithful cricket prophetically shows him his wife fast asleep in a dream, while a little boy in miniature postilion's dress plays merrily in the background.
In the third act Dot adorns May with the bridal wreath, but the girl is in a very sad mood. All at once she hears the sailor sing; Dot steals away, and May vividly reminded of her old love by the song, decides to refuse old Tackleton at the last moment, and to remain true to Eduard until the end of her life. The sailor, hearing her resolve, rushes in tearing off his false grey beard, and catches May, who at last recognizes him, in his arms. Meanwhile Tackleton arrives gorgeously attired; he brings a necklace of false pearls and invites May to drive with him to the wedding ceremony in the church at once. A whole chorus of people interrupt this scene however; they greet him, saying they are his wedding guests, exciting the miser's wrath. At last May, who had retired to put on her bridal attire, re-appears, but instead of taking Tackleton's arm she walks up to Eduard, who courteously thanking the old lover for the carriage standing at the door, suddenly disappears with May. The {376} chorus detains the furious old Tackleton until the lovers are well out of the way.
Meanwhile Dot has explained her behaviour to John, and whispering her sweet secret into his ear, makes him the happiest man on earth.--The cricket, the good fairy of the house, chirps sweetly and the last scene shows once more a picture of faithfulness and love.
THE EVANGELIMANN.
A Musical Drama in two acts.
With Text and Music by WILHELM KIENZL.
The author has learnt a great deal since the days, in which he composed Urvasi. His music has become more original and more independant of great models. The new opera, while not so poetical is eminently touching and true; the text, founded on fact, runs smoothly and is cleverly done, the verses being well adapted to the music. Like Verga's Cavalleria the subject is such as to be impressive even without music.
It is necessary to explain the title of this opera, which signifies a man who goes about reciting biblical verse after the fashion of street singers. This means of earning a livelihood is unknown in Germany, but forms a speciality in Austria.
The music of the first act puts one in mind of the Meistersingers; as a whole it is very captivating, fresh and drastic, especially during the nine-pin scene. The orchestra predominates, but there are truly poetic airs, which will linger as much in {377} the heart as in the ear of the hearer. Such is: "O sweet days of my youth," and in the last act: "Blessed are they who are persecuted," from Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Another charming bit of music is the children's waltz, in which the composer has paraphrased one of Lanner's well-known waltz-motives.
The first scene is laid in the village of St. Othmar in Austria, or rather in the court of the convent of the Benedictines of that place. Mathias, a young clerk of the convent has an interview with Martha, the niece and ward of Frederic Engel, the rich warden of the convent. John, Mathias' elder brother and the village-schoolmaster sees them together. Being in love with the girl himself he warns her uncle of his brother's courtship and excites his wrath against the lovers, so that Engel, coming across the young people, gruffly tells Mathias, that he has already chosen a rich bridegroom for his ward. In vain, the lovers beseech the old man's pity, for his anger only waxes stronger, and he goes so far, as to discharge Mathias, warning him to leave the place altogether. Martha left alone bemourns her guardian's hardness, and John, thinking to profit by the occasion approaches her and asks for her hand. But he is so decidedly rejected by Martha, that he swears to have his revenge.
Meanwhile the evening approaches, and the country-folk come to the inn next to the convent, to play their game of ninepins.--During this very animated scene Mathias finds Magdalen, his sweetheart's friend, whom he entreats to take a message {378} to Martha, asking her to meet him at eleven o'clock in the bower near the skittleground for a last farewell. John hears this and when night sets in and the gates of the convent are closed, he remains outside alone, hiding behind the barn-floor. When the clock strikes eleven Martha and Mathias approach the bower. They swear to remain true to each other, come what may. Their tender words excite John's jealousy to the utmost, and while the lovers are engrossed with their sorrow and make plans for the future, he sets fire to the barn-floor. Soon the flames leap up to the sky, but the lovers are oblivious of everything, till they hear the watchman's cry of fire. Mathias persuades Martha to hide herself; so he is found alone on the place and seized by the crowd and brought before the warden. Engel at once jumps to the conclusion, that he has been the incendiary, to revenge himself for Engel's hard-heartedness, and despite his protestations of innocence Mathias is put in chains and carried away, while Martha, who comes out from her hiding-place falls back in a swoon after proclaiming his innocence.
The second act takes place thirty years later in Vienna. Magdalen sits under a lime-tree in the court of an old house and muses sadly over days gone by. After long, lonely years she has found the school-master John sick unto death, and now finds comfort in nursing him. Nothing has ever been heard of Mathias again, and she wonders sadly what has become of him. Children throng into the court, they dance around the lime-tree, while an {379} old organ-grinder plays pretty waltz-tunes to their steps.--While they are dancing, an Evangelimann comes into the court. He reads and sings to the children the verses from Christ's Sermon on the Mount, and teaches them to repeat the melody. When they are able to sing it faultlessly, he faintly asks for a drink of water, which Magdalen brings him. She asks him, whence he comes, and when he tells her, that his father's house stood in St. Othmar, she recognizes in him her old friend Mathias. Then he relates his sad story, how he lay imprisoned for twenty years, the real incendiary having never been discovered. When he was set free, he returned home, only to find that his bride had drowned herself. All his efforts to earn a livelihood were fruitless; nobody would employ the convict, until he was at last obliged to become an Evangelimann, and wandered from place to place, preaching the gospel to the poor, and getting such small bounties they could afford to give.--Exhausted by hunger and overcome by sad remembrances Mathias sinks down on the bench half fainting, but is revived by bread and broth brought to him by Magdalen, who earnestly entreats him to return soon, and to bring comfort to the sick man she is nursing.
The last scene takes place a day later in John's sick-room. He is lying on a couch, a prey to bitter thoughts and pangs of conscience, when his brother's voice reaches his ear from below, and dimly awakens sweet memories in him. He bids Magdalen to fetch the singer, and when the latter enters, he feels so {380} drawn to him without recognizing his brother, that he begs leave, to unburden his soul to him.
Mathias soon recognizing his brother is about to fold him in his arms, but John despairingly shrinks from him, while confessing his guilt in broken words and beseeching his forgiveness. The unfortunate Mathias, whose life has been so utterly ruined by his brother, battles fiercely with his natural feelings. But when he sees the wretched John on his knees before him, so broken down and exhausted he finally forgives him. With a last faint gasp of thanks John falls back and dies, while Magdalen prays "And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us." Outside the children's voices are heard once more: "Blessed are they, that are persecuted for righteousness' sake; for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."
ODYSSEUS' RETURN.
A Musical Tragedy in three acts with a Prelude by AUGUST BUNGERT.
A musical drama of the highest interest, one which may be considered equal to Wagner's great Nibelung series, has been created at last.
"Odysseus' Return" is the third of four parts of a cyclus, called the Odyssey, and its success since its first representation in Dresden on December 12th 1896 has been so absolute, that one may hope to hear the other parts before long. It must be admitted here, that this is due
## partly to {381} its splendid rendering under Schuch's genial
conductorship, and to the interpreters of the two principal roles in the drama. Frau Wittich as Penelope is the very incarnation of womanliness and queenliness, and no singer could be a truer and nobler Odysseus than Karl Scheidemantel. Whosoever had the advantage of hearing these two great singers in these roles, must for ever identify them with the grand characters of ancient Greece.
Bungert is happy in having found a subject so noble and so sympathetic, and his music does full justice to these sentiments.
The orchestration is simple in character, sometimes of classic naïveté, and though the composer keeps to measures without caesura (destitute of rythm) which are peculiar to Wagner, he differs from him inasmuch as the orchestra is always merely the accompaniment of the voice and never drowns it.
All the characters are most life-like, and they thrill with those never changing emotions, which are the same to-day as they were a thousand years ago.
The plot treats of Homer's Odyssey with a poetic licence.