Part 30
The King now enters from the gymnasium; beside him walks Odysseus who had at last been persuaded to wrestle with Euryalos and had entirely vanquished him. The people hail Odysseus as victor. Nausikaa hastens to him and crowns him with the victor's wreath; she shows her preference for him in such a marked manner that Euryalos is beside himself with rage and draws his sword upon Odysseus who in selfdefence wounds Euryalos severely.
Odysseus then turns to the King and implores him to give him a ship that he may go back to his own country and family. These words fall like a knell upon the heart of Nausikaa; she is led out fainting by her mother.
The aged poet Homer now enters. All hail him with joy; the King bids him sing them a song about Troy. The blind poet sings the tragic story--the people join in the chorus. Odysseus listens; {429} at last he can keep quiet no longer. Springing up he goes on with the story giving his own share in it with such vividness that Nausikaa, who has stolen back again, rushes forward and cries: "Thou art Odysseus himself!" He acknowledges with tears that he is that unhappy man. The people greet him with joy and wonder; the King embraces him warmly. Odysseus relates his sorrows, his wanderings; he speaks of his wife and child; he implores the King to give him a ship that he may return home. The King readily promises his help, he gives orders that a ship shall immediately be prepared and filled with costly gifts.
But the priests see in Odysseus the enemy of their god Poseidon; they press the King to slay Odysseus--but the King sternly refuses to do so and orders the High Priest to be bound till Odysseus is safely gone.
Nausikaa's hopes are dashed to the ground; heartbroken she murmurs to herself her mother's words: "Each human life is a sacrifice, a death for the dearest in the world." She slowly goes away and is seen later standing on a high wall of Athene's temple overlooking the sea.
In the meantime all is ready, the King, Queen and Laodamus accompany Odysseus to the ship and take leave of him; he goes on board and the ship moves off. At this moment the sky is overcast and Poseidon appears in his car and threatens Odysseus with his trident.
Nausikaa calls to Poseidon to take her for a {430} victim and with a cry springs into the sea. The nymphs bear her dead body to Poseidon. Zeus suddenly appears and drives Poseidon away, while Athene hovers over Odysseus with shield and lance. He sails away in safety.
MANRU.
Opera in three acts by J. PADEREWSKI.
Text by ALFRED NOSSIG.
Dresden claims the honour of having first represented the celebrated Polish pianist's opera.
The performance took place on May 29th 1901, and a closely packed house showed its approbation in the most enthusiastic manner.
Those who will look out for reminiscences in every new piece of music find of course that Paderewski is an imitator of Wagner, but though Manru would probably not have been written without the composer's intimate knowledge of the Ring of Nibelungen, the melodies and rythm are entirely his own. The music is true gypsy music with very much movement and highly phantastic colouring, reminding us sometimes of Liszt and Bizet.
The best parts of the opera are the choruses of the village maidens in the first act, the charming cradle song, the violin solo and the love-duet in the second and the splendid gipsy music in the last act.
Nossig's libretto is very inferior to the music; its rhymes are often absolutely trivial. The scene is laid in the Hungarian Tatra mountain district.
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Manru a wandering gipsy has fallen in love with a peasant girl Ulana and has married her against her mother's wishes.
In the first act mother Hedwig laments her daughter's loss. While the village lasses are dancing and frolicking Ulana returns to her mother to ask her forgiveness; she is encouraged by a hunchback Urok, who is devoted to her, and who persuades the mother to forgive her child, on condition that she shall leave her husband. As Ulana refuses, though she is in dire need of bread, Hedwig sternly shuts her door upon her daughter. Ulana turns to Urok, who does his best to persuade her to leave her husband.
Urok is a philosopher; he warns the poor woman, that gipsy blood is never faithful, and that the time will come, when Manru will leave wife and child.
Ulana is frightened and finally obtains from Urok a love potion, by which she hopes to secure her husband's constancy.
When she tries to turn back into the mountains she is surrounded by the returning villagers, who tease and torment her and the hunchback, until Manru comes to their rescue. But his arrival only awakes the villagers' wrath, they fall upon him and are about to kill him, when mother Hedwig comes out and warns them not to touch the outlaws on whom her curse has fallen.
The second act takes place in Manru's hiding place in the mountains. The gipsy is tired of the {432} idyll. He longs for freedom and quarrels with his wife, whose sweetness bores him. She patiently rocks her child's cradle and sings him to rest. Suddenly Manru hears the tones of a gipsy fiddle in the distance; he follows the sound and soon returns with an old gipsy who does his best to lure him back to his tribe. But once more love and duty prevail; and when Ulana sweetly presents him the love-philtre he drains it at one draught, and immediately feeling the fire of the strong and potent drug, he becomes cheerful and receives his wife, who has adorned herself with a wreath of flowers with open arms.
In the third act Manru rushes out of the small, close hut. His intoxication is gone; he gasps for air and freedom. Wearily he stretches himself on the ground and falls asleep. The full moon, shining on him, throws him into a trance, during which he rises to follow the gipsy tribe whose songs he hears. In this state he is found by Asa, the gipsy queen, who loves him and at once claims him as her own.
But the tribe refuses to receive the apostate, and their chief Oros pronounces a terrible anathema against him. However Asa prevails with her tribe to pardon Manru.
Oros in anger flings down his staff of office and departs, and Manru is elected chief in his place.
Once more he hesitates, but Asa's beauty triumphs; he follows her and his own people.
At this moment Ulana appears. Seeing that {433} her husband has forsaken her, she implores Urok, who has been present during the whole scene to bring Manru back to her.--Alas, it is in vain. When Ulana sees Manru climbing the mountain path arm in arm with Asa, she drowns herself in the lake.
But Manru does not enjoy his treachery; Oros, hidden behind the rocks is on the watch for him and tearing Asa from him, he precipitates his rival from the rocks into the lake.
FEUERSNOT
(THE PLAGUE OF DARKNESS).
A Lyric Poem (Singgedicht) in one act by ERNST VON WOLZOGEN.
Music by RICHARD STRAUSS.
The new Opera of the highly gifted young Bavarian composer was represented for the first time in Dresden on November 21st 1901.
This absolutely original composition was received with acclamation, and it deserves it. The musical part is so difficult, that it can only be performed on a few very first rate stages, and it wants many hearings to take in all its charm of instrumentation and its eminently modern harmonies and intervals.
The text is very witty and very clever, and quite worthy of the music. The story is taken from an old Dutch legend of rather free conception. The scene is laid in Munich; it takes place at the summer solstice in the far away middle-ages, or, as the author calls it "fabulous no-time."
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The title has a double meaning as the explanation of the plot will show.
A band of merry children wanders from house to house, singing and demanding wood for the bonfires of the summer solstice. After having got a plentiful supply at the burgomaster's house, they cross over to the opposite house, an old decayed building, called the Wizard's house. Its inmate at first takes no notice of the children's noisy summons; at last he appears at the door.
He, Kunrad, is a young dreamer, who has forgotten the outside world over his books and studies. But the merry songs wake him suddenly to life and sunshine. He gives up his whole house to the uproarious band, beginning himself to tear down the battered shutters. The children set to work to carry off every piece of wood, that is not too firmly riveted, and Kunrad helps them full of glee.
Suddenly he perceives, Diemuth, the burgomaster's lovely daughter. His hitherto perfectly untouched heart catches fire, and all at once he steps up to her, presses her to his heart and kissing her he passionately explains: "I will leap through the fire; wilt thou leap after me?!"
Diemuth, who has all the time been gazing at the stranger like one in a trance wakes up and turns from him with a cry of shame and indignation.
Kunrad is now attacked on all sides for his impertinence and Diemuth, turning to her maiden friends, who secretly envy her for the adoration, {435} the noble stranger has shown her, whispers into their ears, that she will revenge herself for the disgrace he has brought upon her.
While the evening is setting in the citizens begin to wander out of town to see the bonfires.
The burgomaster is obliged to walk away alone, after having vainly tried to persuade his daughter to accompany him.
Diemuth steps into the house, and soon appears on the balcony, combing her heir. Kunrad standing at his battered house-door renews his protestations of love and begs her in passionate terms to let him in. At first she refuses tartly but by and by she seems to relent, and pointing to the large basket in which the wood had been let down to the children she invites him to get into it and says that she will draw him up.--Kunrad complies with her wish.
While she slowly winds the basket up her three companions peep round the corner and perceive with delight, that Diemuth's trick is successful, and that the bird is caught. The tercet of the maidens is one of the loveliest pieces of music ever written.
Before the basket reaches the balcony, Diemuth pretends that her strength is failing. At his entreaties she loosens and lets down her long hair, but when he tries to grasp it she jerks it back with a cry of pain and rates him harshly.--At last he perceives, that she has been fooling him all the time. He is helplessly caught in the trap and the returning citizens seeing him hanging between {436} heaven and earth deride him, congratulating Diemuth on having caught such a fine bird.
Then Kunrad rises in a towering rage. Loudly invoking the help of his friend and master, the mighty sorcerer, he suddenly plunges the whole town into utter darkness. When the good citizens of Munich find themselves deprived of fire and light, they break out into loud lamentation; the frightened children wail and the head officials of the town vow to hang Kunrad for his insolence and his witchcraft.
At this moment the moon shining through the clouds throws her light upon Kunrad, who has swung himself on to the balcony, and smiling down upon the people he pronounces a powerful oration upon their narrowmindedness.
He reminds them, that the owner of his house, whom they drove out of the town, Richard Wagner was one of the greatest masters the world had ever seen and who would have brought them fame and greatness, if they had not rejected him. He, Kunrad (Richard Strauss) claims to be his successor, who is to carry on the great work nothing daunted, and in spite of all the small minds of the world.
For his helpmate he has chosen Diemuth, but she too has failed to understand, that love is higher than even virtue and morality, and for this reason he has extinguished their lights and fire, to show them, that all light comes, from love, and that without love the world is dark and cold.
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As soon as he has ended, Diemuth softly opens her door and draws Kunrad in. The citizens, convinced by his burning words begin to praise him and acknowledge his high courage and good words. Meanwhile the windows of Diemuth's chamber begin to gleam faintly; Diemuth and Kunrad have fulfilled the law of love and all at once, the flames of the bonfires leap up and the windows and streets are again aglow with the light, that is given back to the city.
HOFFMANN'S TALES.
A phantastic Opera in three acts by JULES BARBIER.
Music by JACQUES OFFENBACH.
In this opera the composer far surpasses all his other compositions. It is his swan's song, for he composed it in the summer of 1880 and he died in October of the same year after having given his best to the world, a true work of genius, so full of grace, of delicate feeling and of phantastic loveliness, that nobody can hear it without being captivated by its sweetness.
The libretto is taken from three different tales of E. Th. A. Hoffmann, who was not only an author and a poet, but a musician and composer worthy of note.
His weird tales were much read in the beginning of the last century.
The first scene, a prologue, is laid in Luther's famous wine-cellar in Nuremberg.
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The hero of the opera, Hoffmann himself is there, drinking with a number of gay young students, his friends. He is in a despondent mood and when urged by his companions to tell them the reason of his depression, he declares himself ready to relate the story of his three love adventures, while his friends sit round a bowl of flaming strong punch.
Now the scene changes and the curtain rises on the first act. We find Hoffmann in Spalanzani's house. This man is a famous physiologist, and Hoffmann has entered his house as his pupil in order to make the acquaintance of the professor's beautiful daughter Olympia, whom he has seen at a distance.
This daughter is nothing more than an automaton, that has been manufactured by Spalanzani and his friend, the wizard Coppelius. This doll can sing, dance and speak like a human being. Spalanzani hopes to become rich by means of this clever work of art. As half of Olympia (this is the doll's name), belongs to Coppelius, Spalanzani buys her from him, paying him by a draft on the Jew Elias, though he knows him to be bankrupt.--Hoffmann has been persuaded by Coppelius to purchase a pair of spectacles, through which he looks at Olympia, and taking her for a lovely living maiden falls violently in love with her.
Spalanzani now gives a grand entertainment, at which he presents his daughter Olympia, (the Automaton), who surprises everybody by her {439} loveliness and her fine singing.--Hoffmann is completely bewitched and as soon as he finds himself alone with her, he makes her an ardent declaration of love and is not at all discouraged by her sitting stock still and only answering from time to time a dry little "ja, ja". At last he tries to embrace her, but as soon as he touches her she rises and trips away.
Hoffmann's friend Niklas finds him in the seventh heaven of rapture and vainly endeavours to enlighten him as to the reason of the beauty's stiffness and heartlessness.
When the dancing begins Hoffmann engages Olympia, and they dance on, always faster and faster, until Hoffmann sinks down in a swoon, his spectacles being broken by the fall. Olympia spins on alone as fast as ever and presently dances out of the room, Cochenille vainly trying to stop her. Coppelius now enters in a fury having found out that Spalanzani's draft on Elias is worthless. He rushes to the room, into which Olympia has vanished and when Hoffmann revives he hears a frightful sound of breaking and smashing, and Spalanzani bursts in with the news that Coppelius has broken his valuable automaton. Thus Hoffmann learns that he has been in love with a senseless doll. The guests, who now enter shout with laughter at his confusion, while Spalanzani and Coppelius load each other with abuse.
The second act takes place in Giulietta's palace in Venice. Everything breathes joy and love.--Both Niklas and Hoffmann are courting the beautiful lady. {440} Niklas warns his friend against her, but Hoffmann only laughs at the idea that he is likely to love a courtezan. The latter is entirely in the hand of the wizard Dapertutto, who acts towards Hoffmann as an evil spirit under three different names in each of his three love affairs. Giulietta has already stolen for him the shadow of her former lover Schlemihl; now Dapertutto wounds her vanity, by telling her, that Hoffmann has spoken disdainfully of her, and makes her promise to win the young man's love and by that means to make him give her his reflection from a looking-glass.
She succeeds easily, and there ensues a charming love-duet, during which they are surprised by the jealous Schlemihl. Giulietta tells Hoffmann, that her former lover has the key of her apartments in his pocket, she then departs leaving the two lovers and Dapertutto alone. When Hoffmann peremptorily demands the key from Schlemihl the latter refuses to give it up. The result is a duel, for which Dapertutto offers Hoffmann his sword.--
After a few passes Schlemihl is killed and Dapertutto disappears. A few moments afterwards Giulietta's gondola passes before the balcony and Hoffmann sees her leaning on Dapertutto's arm, singing a mocking farewell to the poor deserted lover.
The third act takes place in Rath Krespel's house. His daughter Antonia has inherited her mother's gift of a beautiful voice, but alas, also her tendency to consumption. The greatest joy of her {441} life is singing, which however her father has forbidden, knowing this exertion to be fatal to his darling.
She is engaged to be married to Hoffmann, but Krespel is averse to the marriage, seeing in it another danger for his daughter's health, as Hoffmann is musical and encourages Antonia to sing. Krespel has forbidden his servant Franz to let anybody see Antonia, while he goes out of the house, but Franz, who is very deaf, misunderstands his master's orders and joyously welcomes his mistress's suitor. A delicate love-scene follows, during which Antonia shows her lover, that her voice is as fine as ever. When they hear Krespel returning Antonia retires to her own room, but Hoffmann hides himself in an alcove, determined to learn why Antonia is so closely hidden from the world.
Immediately after the father's return Doctor Mirakel enters; Krespel is mortally afraid of this mysterious man, as he believes him to have killed his wife by his drugs and that now he aims at his daughter's life.
This Mirakel is a demon, who acts as in the two former instances as Hoffmann's evil genius.--From the conversation of the two men Hoffmann learns the secret of his bride's dangerous inheritance, and when Mirakel has at last been driven out of the room, and Krespel has left it too; the lovers both come back again. Hoffmann by earnest entreaty succeeds in gaining Antonia's promise never to sing any more. But when he has left Mirakel {442} returns and by invoking the spirit of her mother he goads her on to break her promise. She begins to sing and he urges her on, until she sinks back exhausted. It is thus that her father and her lover find her, and after a few sweet words of farewell she dies in their arms.
The Epilogue takes us back to Luther's cellar, where Hoffmann's companions are still sitting over their punch, the steam of which forms clouds over their heads, while they thank their poor, heart-broken friend for his three stories with ringing cheers.
THE ALPINE KING AND THE MISANTHROPE.
Opera in three acts by LEO BLECH.
Text by RICHARD BATKA.
The young composer, who is already conductor of the orchestra of the German Opera in Prague made his debut last year in a small one-act opera, called "That was I"--, the music of which is pretty and shows remarkable talent. There is however enormous progress to be observed in "The Alpine King". Blech, although following in Wagner's footsteps, has a style of his own. His modulations are bold, often daring; his dissonances are frequent but they are fully compensated for by the most charming folk-songs. He has the courage to introduce melodies freely, in this respect he is one among a thousand. In his modern style of orchestration too he shows {443} himself to be full of resource, while more especially in those passages, where the spirit-world comes into play, there is a display of tone-effects of great beauty, which are perhaps too elaborate for the simple subject, but the Cottage scene, and the simple Tirolean-songs of the peasants are all the more graceful by contrast; one of the most charming songs in the Polka-air in f: "Fair are Roses and Jessamine".
Batka, the writer of the libretto, has taken his subject from Raimund's beautiful folk-story of the same name. He has done it with skill but not without some weak passages.
The scene opens in a Tirolean mountain district. Marthe, Rappelkopf's daughter, and her servant Lieschen, while making a nosegay of wild flowers, are waiting for Marthe's lover Hans, a poor musician, who after having been rejected by his sweetheart's father has absented himself for some time, in order to make himself perfect in his art by studying under the great masters in Italy. Lieschen is much afraid of the Alpine King on whose ground they are sitting, and of whom the legend says, that he turns young girls into old women, if they dare to look at him. Marthe has more sense, she is sure that the lord of these grand mountains must be good and just. While the girls are busy wilh their garlands, Hans comes up the steep path and is joyously greeted by his fiancée. He has become a man and is full of hope that he will now be able to satisfy Herr Rappelkopf, but Marthe sadly tells {444} him, how morbid and misanthropic her father has become, so that she does not even dare to mention her lover's name. Suddenly a shot is heard and a bird falls dead at their feet. Turning to look at the unwelcome intruder they find themselves face to face with a strange old man; who, when they ask him who he is, replies quickly: "I am the King of the Alps". Dreadfully frightened Lieschen and Marthe look at each other in consternation, but finding that their sweet young faces are unchanged, they take courage, and kneeling before the majestic traveller they implore his help and blessing, which the latter willingly promises.