Part 7

In the second act Rose and Silvain meet near St. Gratien. Rose, after telling him that all the paths are occupied by sentries, promises to show him a way for the refugees, which she and her goat alone know. Silvain, thanking her warmly, endeavours to induce her to care more for her outward appearance, praising her pretty features. Rose is delighted to hear for the first time that she is pretty, and the duet ensuing is one of the most charming things in the opera. Silvain promises to be her friend henceforth and then leaves, in order to seek the Camisards. After this Thibaut {66} appears, seeking his wife, whom he has seen going away with Belamy. Finding Rose he imagines he has mistaken her for his wife, but she laughingly corrects him and he proceeds to search for Georgette. Belamy now comes and courts Thibaut's wife. But Rose, seeing them, resolves to free the path for the others.--No sooner has Belamy tried to snatch a kiss from his companion, than Rose draws the rope of the hermit's bell, and she repeats the proceeding, until Georgette takes flight, while Thibaut rushes up at the sound of the bell. Belamy reassures him, intimating that the bell may have rung for Rose (though it never rings for girls) and accompanies him to the village. But he soon returns to look for the supposed hermit, who has played him this trick and finds Rose instead, who does not perceive him.--To his great surprise Silvain comes up with the whole troop of refugees, leading the aged clergyman, who had been a father to him in his childhood. Silvain presents Rose to them as their deliverer and vows to make her his wife.--Rose leads them to the secret path, while Silvain returns to the village, leaving Belamy triumphant at his discovery.

In the third act we find the people on the following morning speaking of nothing but Silvain's wedding with Rose and of the hermit's bell. Nobody knows who has been the culprit, but Thibaut slily calculates that the hermit has rung before-hand, when Rose the bride kissed the dragoon. Having learned that the soldiers had been commanded to {67} saddle their horses in the midst of the dancing the night before, and that Belamy, sure of his prey, has come back, he believes that Rose has betrayed the poor Camisards in order to win the price set on their heads and this opinion he now communicates to Silvain.

To keep Belamy away from Georgette, the sly Squire has conducted him to the wine-cellar, and the officier [Transcriber's note: officer?], now half-drunk admits having had a rendez-vous with Rose.--When Thibaut has retired, Belamy again kisses Georgette, and lo, the bell does not ring this time!

Meanwhile Rose comes down the hill, neatly clad and glowing with joy and pride and Georgette disregarding Thibaut's reproofs offers her the wedding-garland. The whole village is assembled to see the wedding, but Silvain appears with dark brow and when Rose radiantly greets him, he pushes her back fiercely, believing that she betrayed the refugees, who are, as he has heard, caught. Rose is too proud to defend herself, but when Georgette tries to console her, she silently draws from her bosom a paper, containing the information that the refugees have safely crossed the frontier.--Great is Silvain's shame and heartfelt his repentance.--Suddenly Belamy enters, beside himself with rage, for his prey has escaped and he has lost his patent as lieutenant together with the remuneration of 200 pistoles, and he at once orders Silvain to be shot. But Rose bravely defends her lover, threatening to reveal the dragoon's neglect of duty. {68} When therefore Belamy's superior appears to hear the important news of which the messenger told him, his corporal is only able to stammer out that nothing in particular has happened, and so after all, Georgette is saved from discovery and Rose becomes Silvain's happy bride.

THE DUSK OF THE GODS.

Third day of the Nibelungen Ring by WAGNER.

This is the end of the great and beautiful tragedy and really it may be called both a sublime and grand conclusion, which unites once again all the dramatic and musical elements of the whole and presents to us a picture the more interesting and touching, as it is now purely human. The Gods who, though filled with passions and faults like mortals, never can be for us living persons, fall into the background, and human beings, full of high aspirations, take their places. The long and terrible conflict between the power of gold and that of love is at last fought out and love conquers.

In the Dusk of the Gods we see again the curse, which lies on gold, and the sacred benediction of true love. Can there be anything more noble, more touching, than Brünnhilde's mourning for Siegfried and the grand sacrifice of herself in expiation of her error?

The third day opens with a prelude, in which we see three Norns, weaving world's fate. When the cord breaks, they fly; the dawn of another world is upon them.

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In the first act Siegfried bids Brünnhilde fare well. His active soul thirsts for deeds, and Brünnhilde having taught him all she knows does not detain him. He gives her the fatal ring in token of remembrance, confiding her to the care of Loge. Then we are transported to the Gibichung's hall on the Rhine. Gunther and his sister Gutrune sit there, together with their gloomy half-brother Hagen. The latter advises his brother to marry, telling him of the beautiful woman, guarded by the flames. When he has sufficiently excited Gunther's longing, he suggests that, as Siegfried is the only one able to gain Brünnhilde, Gunther should attach him to his person by giving him Gutrune as wife. This is to be achieved by a draught, which has the power of causing oblivion. Whoever drinks it forgets that ever a woman has existed beside the one, who has tended the potion. Hagen well knows of Siegfried's union with Brünnhilde, but Gunther and Gutrune are both ignorant of it.

Siegfried arrives and is heartily welcomed. All turns out as Hagen has foretold. By the fatal potion Siegfried falls passionately in love with Gutrune, so that he completely forgets Brünnhilde. He swears blood-brothership to Gunther, and promises to win Brünnhilde for him. Then the two depart on their errand.

Meanwhile the Walkyrie Waltraute comes to Brünnhilde and beseeches her to render Siegfried's ring to the Rhine-daughters, in order to save the Gods from destruction. Brünnhilde refuses to part {70} with the token of her husband's love, and hardly has Waltraute departed, than fate overtakes her in the person of Siegfried, who ventures through the flames in Gunther's shape. She vainly struggles against him, he snatches the ring from her, and so she is conquered. Siegfried holds vigil through the night, his sword separating him and the woman he wooed, and in the early dawn he leads her away to her bridegroom, who takes Siegfried's place unawares.

In the second act Alberich appears to Hagen. He tells his son of the story of the ring and bids him kill Siegfried and recover the stolen treasure for its owner.--Siegfried appears, announcing Gunther's and Brünnhilde's arrival. The bridal pair is received by all their men, but the joy is soon damped by Brünnhilde recognizing in the bridegroom of Gutrune her own husband. Siegfried does not know her, but she discovers her ring on his hand, and asserting that Gunther won it from her, this hero is obliged to acknowledge the shameful role he played.--Though Siegfried swears that his sword Nothung guarded him from any contact with Gunther's bride, Brünnhilde responds in a most startling manner, and both swear on Hagen's spear that it may pierce them, should their words prove false. All this makes a dreadful impression on the weak mind of Gunther.

When Siegfried has withdrawn in high spirits with his bride Gutrune, Hagen hoping to gain the ring offers to avenge Brünnhilde on the faithless {71} Siegfried. Brünnhilde in her deadly wrath betrays to him the only vulnerable spot beneath Siegfried's shoulder. Gunther consents reluctantly to their schemes.

The third act opens with a scene on the Rhine. The Rhine-daughters try to persuade Siegfried to render them the ring. He is about to throw it into the water, when they warn him of the evil which will befall him, should he refuse their request. This awakens his pride, and laughing he turns from them, he, the fearless hero. His fellow-hunters overtake him, and while he relates to them the story of his life, Hagen mixes a herb with his wine, which enables him to remember all he has forgotten. Hagen then treacherously drives his spear into Siegfried's back, killing him. He dies with Brünnhilde's praise on his lips. The funeral-march which here follows is one of the most beautiful ever written. When the dead hero is brought to the Giebichung's hall, Gutrune bewails him loudly. A dispute arises between Hagen and Gunther about the ring, which ends by Hagen slaying Gunther. But lo, when Hagen tries to strip the ring off the dead hand, the fingers close themselves, and the hand raises itself, bearing testimony against the murderer. Brünnhilde appears, to mourn for the dead; she drives away Gutrune, who sees too late that under the influence of the fatal draught, Siegfried forgot his lawful wife, whom she now recognizes in Brünnhilde. The latter, taking a long farewell of her dead husband, orders a funeral pile {72} to be erected. As soon as Siegfried's body is placed on it, she lights it with a firebrand, and when it is in full blaze, she mounts her faithful steed, leaping with it into the flames.

When the fire sinks, the Rhine-daughters are seen to snatch the ring, which is now purified from its curse by Brünnhilde's death.

Hagen, trying to wrench it from them, is drawn into the waves and so dies.

A dusky light, like that of a new dawn spreads over heaven, and through a mist, Walhalla, with all the Gods sleeping peacefully, may be perceived.

EURYANTHE.

Grand romantic Opera by C. M. VON WEBER.

Text by HELMINA VON CHEZY.

This opera has not had the success of Oberon or Freischütz, a fact to be attributed to the weakness of its libretto, and not to its music, which is so grand and noble, that it cannot but fill the hearer with admiration and pleasure.

The overture is one of the finest pieces ever written, and the choruses and solos are equally worthy of admiration.

The plot is as follows:

Adolar, Count of Nevers and Rethel, is betrothed to Euryanthe of Savoy, and the wedding is to take place, when one day, in the King's presence Lysiart, Count of Forest and Beaujolais, suggests that all women are accessible to seduction. He provokes Adolar so much, that he succeeds {73} in making him stake his lands and everything he possesses on his bride's fidelity. Lysiart on the other hand promises to bring a token of Euryanthe's favor.

In the following scene we find Euryanthe in the company of Eglantine de Puiset. This lady is a prisoner, who has taken refuge in the castle of Nevers, and has ingratiated herself so much with Euryanthe, that the latter tenderly befriends the false woman. Asking Euryanthe, why she always chooses for her recreation the dreary spot of the park, where Adolar's sister Emma lies buried, she is told by her in confidence, that she prays for Emma, who poisoned herself after her lover's death in battle. Her soul could find no rest, until the ring, which contained the venom should be wet with the tears of a faithful and innocent maid, shed in her extreme need. No sooner has Euryanthe betrayed her bridegroom's secret that she repents doing so, foreboding ill to come. Lysiart enters to escort her to the marriage festival, but he vainly tries to ensnare her innocence, when Eglantine comes to his rescue. She loves Adolar, and her passion not being returned, she has sworn vengeance. Stealing the fatal ring from the sepulchre, she gives it to Lysiart as a token of Euryanthe's faithlessness, and Lysiart, after having brought Euryanthe to Adolar, shows the ring in presence of the whole court, pretending to have received it from Euryanthe. The poor maiden denies it, but as Lysiart reveals the mystery of the grave, she cannot deny that she has broken her promise of never telling the secret.

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Adolar full of despair surrenders everything to his rival, leading Euryanthe, whom he believes to be false, into the wilderness to kill her. A serpent is about to sting him, when his bride throws herself between. He kills the reptile, but after her sacrifice he is unable to raise his arm against her and so leaves her to her fate.

She is found by the King and his hunters, and to them she relates the whole story of her error of confiding in the false Eglantine. The King promises to inform Adolar and takes her back with him. Meanwhile Adolar returning once more to his grounds, is seen by his people. One of them, Bertha, tells him that Euryanthe is innocent, and that Eglantine, who is about to marry Lysiart and to reign as supreme mistress over the country, has been the culprit.

Eglantine, appearing in bridal attire, led by Lysiart, suddenly becomes a prey to fearful remorse, she sees Emma's ghost, and in her anxiety reveals the whole plot. Her bridegroom stabs her in his fury, but is at once seized by order of the King who just then comes upon the scene. Adolar, believing Euryanthe dead, demands a meeting with Lysiart. But the King declares, that the murderer must incur the penalty of the laws. He renders up to Adolar his possessions and his bride, who the more easily pardons her repentant bridegroom, that she has saved his sister's soul by the innocent tears of her misfortune.

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FALSTAFF.

A lyric Comedy in three acts by GIUSEPPE VERDI.

Text by ARRIGO BOITO.

Nobody who hears this opera would believe, that it has been written by a man in his eightieth year. So much freshness, wit and originality seem to be the privilege of youth alone. But the wonder has been achieved, and Verdi has won a complete success with an opera,--which runs in altogether different lines from his old-ones, another wonder of an abnormally strong and original mind.

Falstaff was first represented in Milan in February 1893; since then it has made its way to all theatres of renown, and it is now indisputable that we have in it a masterpiece of composition and orchestration. Those who only look for the easy-flowing melodies of the younger Verdi will be disappointed; art is predominant, besides an exuberant humour full of charm for every cultivated hearer. The numbers which attract most are the gossiping scene between the four women in the first act, Falstaffs air "Auand'ero paggio del Duca di Norfolk era sottile" in the second, and the fairy music in the last act.

The text is so well known to all readers of Shakespeare, that it may be recorded quite shortly. It is almost literally that of the Merry Wives of Windsor. The first scene is laid in the Garter Inn of that town. After a quarrel with the French Physician Dr. Cajus, who has been robbed while drunk by Falstaff's servants Bardolph and Pistol, {76} Falstaff orders them off with two love-letters for Mrs. Alice Ford and Mrs. Meg Page. The Knaves refusing indignantly to take the parts of go-betweens Falstaff sends them to the devil and gives the letters to the page Robin.

In the second act the two ladies having shown each other the love-letters, decide to avenge themselves on the old fat fool.

Meanwhile Falstaff's servants betray their master's intentions towards Mrs. Ford to her husband, who swears to guard his wife, and to keep a sharp eye on Sir John. Then ensues a love-scene between Fenton and Mr. Ford's daughter Anna, who is destined by her father to marry the rich Dr. Cajus, but who by far prefers her poor suitor Fenton.

After a while the merry Wives assemble again, in order to entice Falstaff into a trap. Mrs. Quickley brings him an invitation to Mrs. Ford's house in absence of the lady's husband, which Sir John accepts triumphantly.

Sir John is visited by Mr. Ford, who assumes the name of Mr. Born, and is nothing loth to drink the bottles of old Cypros-wine, which the latter has brought with him. Born also produces a purse filled with sovereigns, and entreats Falstaff to use it in order to get admittance to a certain Mrs. Ford, whose favour Born vainly sought. Falstaff gleefully reveals the rendez-vous, which he is to have with the lady and thereby leaves poor disguised Mr. Ford a prey to violent jealousy.

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The next scene contains Falstaff's well-known interview with mischievous Alice Ford, which is interrupted by Mrs. Meg's announcement of the husband.

Falstaff is packed into a washing-basket, while husband and neighbours search for him in vain. This scene, in which Falstaff, half suffocated, alternately sighs and begs to be let out, while the women tranquilly sit on the basket and enjoy their trick, is extremely comic. The basket with Falstaff, full wash and all is turned over into a canal, accompanied by the women's laughter.

In the third act Mrs. Quickley succeeds once more to entice the old fool. She orders him to another rendez-vous in the Park at midnight, and advises him to come in the disguise of Herne the black hunter. The others hear of the joke and all decide to punish him thoroughly for his fatuity. Ford, who has promised Dr. Cajus, to unite Anna to him the very night, tells him to wear a monk's garb, and also reveals to him, that Anna is to wear a white dress with roses. But his wife, overhearing this, frustrates his designs. She gives a black monk's garb to Fenton, while Anna chooses the costume of the Fairy-Queen Titania. When Falstaff appears in his disguise he is attacked on all sides by fairies, wasps, flies and mosquitos and they torment him so long, until he cries for mercy. Meanwhile Cajus, in a grey monk's garb looks for his bride everywhere until a tall veiled female in flowing white robes (Bardolph) falls into his arms; on {78} the other side Anna appears with Fenton. Both couples are wedded, and only when they unveil, the mistake is discovered. With bitter shame the men see how they have all been duped by some merry and clever women, but they have to make the best of a bad case, and so Ford grants his benediction to the happy lovers, and embraces his wife, only too glad to find her true and faithful.

FIDELIO.

Opera in two acts by L. van BEETHOVEN.

This opera, the only one by the greatest of German composers, is also one of the most exquisite we possess. The music is so grand and sublime, so passionate and deep, that it enters into the heart of the hearer. The libretto is also full of the highest and most beautiful feeling.

Florestan, a Spanish nobleman, has dared to blame Don Pizarro, the governor of the state-prison, a man as cruel as he is powerful. Pizarro has thus become Florestan's deadly foe, he has seized him secretly and thrown him into a dreadful dungeon, reporting his death to the Minister.

But this poor prisoner has a wife, Leonore, who is as courageous as she is faithful. She never believes in the false reports, but disguising herself in male attire, resolves not to rest until she has found her husband.

In this disguise we find her in the first act; she has contrived to get entrance into the fortress {79} where she supposes her husband imprisoned, and by her gentle and courteous behaviour, and readiness for service of all kinds has won not only the heart of Rocco, the jailer, but that of his daughter Marcelline, who falls in love with the gentle youth and neglects her former lover Jaquino. Fidelio persuades Rocco to let her help him in his office with the prisoners. Quivering with mingled hope and fear she opens the prison gates, to let the state prisoners out into the court, where they may for once have air and sunshine.

But seek as she may, she cannot find her husband and in silent despair she deems herself baffled.

Meanwhile Pizarro has received a letter from Sevilla, announcing the Minister's forthcoming visit to the fortress. Pizarro, frightened at the consequences of such a call, resolves to silence Florestan for ever. He orders the jailer to kill him, but the old man will not burden his soul with a murder and refuses firmly. Then Pizarro himself determines to kill Florestan, and summons Rocco to dig a grave in the dungeon, in order to hide all traces of the crime.

Rocco, already looking upon the gentle and diligent Fidelio as his future son-in-law, confides to him his dreadful secret, and with fearful forebodings she entreats him to accept her help in the heavy work. Pizarro gives his permission, Rocco being too old and feeble to do the work quickly enough if alone; Pizarro has been rendered furious by the {80} indulgence granted to the prisoners at Fidelio's entreaty, but a feeling of triumph overcomes every other, when he sees Rocco depart for the dungeon with his assistant.

Here we find poor Florestan chained to a stone; he is wasted to a skeleton as his food has been reduced in quantity week by week by the cruel orders of his tormentor. He is gradually losing his reason; he has visions and in each one beholds his beloved wife.

When Leonore recognizes him, she well-nigh faints, but with a supernatural effort of strength she rallies, and begins her work. She has a piece of bread with her, which she gives to the prisoner and with it the remainder of Rocco's wine. Rocco, mild at heart, pities his victim sincerely, but he dares not act against the orders of his superior, fearing to lose his position, or even his life.

While Leonore refreshes the sick man, Rocco gives a sign to Pizarro, that the work is done, and bids Fidelio leave; but she only hides herself behind a stone-pillar, waiting with deadly fear for the coming event and decided to save her husband or to die with him.

Pizarro enters, secretly resolved to kill not only his foe, but also both witnesses of his crime. He will not kill Florestan however without letting him know, who his assailant is. So he loudly shouts his own much-feared name, but while he raises his dagger, Leonore throws herself between him and Florestan, shielding the latter with her breast. {81} Pizarro, stupefied like Florestan, loses his presence of mind. Leonore profits by it and presents a pistol at him, with which she threatens his life, should he attempt another attack. At this critical moment the trumpets sound, announcing the arrival of the Minister, and Pizarro, in impotent wrath is compelled to retreat. They are all summoned before the Minister, who is shocked at seeing his old friend Florestan in this sad state, but not the less delighted with and full of reverence for the noble courage of Leonore.

Pizarro is conducted away in chains, and the faithful wife with her own hands removes the fetters, which still bind the husband for whom she has just won freedom and happiness.

Marcelline, feeling inclined to be ashamed of her mistake, returns to her simple and faithful lover Jaquino.

LA FIGLIA DEL REGGIMENTO.

Comic Opera in two acts by GAËTANO DONIZETTI.

Text by ST. GEORGE and BAYARD.