Part 9
In the third act the citizens of Maintz hail the Emperor, after which Frauenlob's cause is brought before him. The whole population demands his pardon, and the monarch, who loves the singer, {97} would fain liberate him, had not Servazio roughly insisted on the culprit's punishment. Uncertain, what to do, the Emperor receives a long procession of ladies with Tilda at its head, who all beseech pardon for Frauenlob. At last the Emperor calls for Hildegund, leaving in her hands the destiny of the prisoner. Left alone with him the latter, prepared to die, only craves her pardon. After a hard struggle with her conscience, love conquers and she grants him pardon. When the Emperor reenters with his suite, to hear the sentence, they find the lovers in close embrace. To the joy of everybody the Monarch sanctions the union and orders the nuptials to be celebrated at once. Another pair, Wolf and Tilda are also made happy. But Servazio vows vengeance. Sizyga, having secretly slipped a powder into his hands, he pours it into a cup of wine, which he presents to Frauenlob as a drink of reconciliation. The Emperor handing the goblet to Hildegund, bids her drink to her lover. Testing it, she at once feels its deadly effect. Frauenlob, seeing his love stagger, snatches the cup from her emptying it at one draught. He dies, still praising the Emperor and women, breathing the name of his bride with his last breath. Servazio is captured, and while Hildegund's body is strewn with roses, the wailing women of Maintz carry their beloved minstrel to his grave.--
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DER FREISCHÜTZ.
Romantic Opera in three acts by C. M. VON WEBER.
Text by FRIEDRICH KIND.
This charming opera done at Dresden 1820, is the most favored of Weber's compositions. It is truly German, being both fantastic and poetic. The libretto is an old German legend and runs thus:
A young huntsman, Max, is in love with Agathe,' daughter of Cuno, the chief-ranger of Prince Ottocar of Bohemia. Max woos her, but their union depends on a master-shot, which he is to deliver on the following morning.
During a village-festival he has all day been unlucky in shooting, and we see him full of anger and sorrow, being mocked at by peasants, more lucky than he.
His comrade, Caspar, one of the ranger's older huntsmen is his evil genius. He has sold himself to the devil, is a gloomy, mysterious fellow, and hopes to save his soul by delivering some other victim to the demon. He wants to tempt Max to try enchanted bullets, to be obtained at the cross-road during the midnight-hour, by drawing a magic circle with a bloody sword and invoking the name of the mysterious huntsman. Father Cuno, hearing him, drives him away, begging Max to think of his bride and to pray to God for success.
But Max cannot forget the railleries of the peasants; he broods over his misfortunes and when {99} he is well-nigh despairing, Caspar, who meanwhile calls Samiel (the devil in person) to help, encourages him to take refuge in stimulants. He tries to intoxicate the unhappy lover by pouring drops from a phial into his wine. When Max has grown more and more excited, Caspar begins to tell him of nature's secret powers, which might help him. Max first struggles against the evil influence, but when Caspar, handing him his gun, lets him shoot an eagle, soaring high in the air, his huntman's heart is elated and he wishes to become possessed of such bullet. Caspar tells him that they are enchanted and persuades him to a meeting in the Wolf's-glen at midnight, where the bullets may be moulded.
In the second act Agathe is with her cousin Aennchen. Agathe is the true German maiden, serious and thoughtful almost to melancholy. She presents a marked contrast to her gay and light-hearted cousin, who tries to brighten Agathe with fun and frolic. They adorn themselves with roses, which Agathe received from a holy hermit, who blessed her, but warned her of impending evil. So Agathe is full of dread forebodings, and after Aennchen's departure she fervently prays to Heaven for her beloved. When she sees him come to her through the forest with flowers on his hat, her fears vanish, and she greets him joyously. But Max only answers hurriedly, that having killed a stag in the Wolf's-glen, he is obliged to return there. Agathe, filled with terror at the mention {100} of this ill-famed name wants to keep him back, but ere she can detain him, he has fled. With hurried steps Max approaches the Wolf's-glen, where Caspar is already occupied in forming circles of black stones, in the midst of which he places a skull, an eagle's wing, a crucible and a bullet-mould. Caspar then calls on Samiel, invoking him to allow him a few more years on earth. To-morrow is the day appointed for Satan to take his soul, but Caspar promises to surrender Max in exchange. Samiel, who appears through the cleft of a rock, agrees to let him have six of the fatal balls, reserving only the seventh for himself.
Caspar then proceeds to make the bullets, Max only looking on, stunned and remorseful at what he sees. His mother's spirit appears to him, but he is already under the influence of the charm, he cannot move. The proceeding goes forward amid hellish noise. A hurricane arises, flames and devilish forms flicker about, wild and horrible creatures rush by and others follow in hot pursuit. The noise grows worse, the earth seems to quake, until at length after Caspar's reiterated invocations Samiel shows himself at the word, "seven". Max and Caspar both make the sign of the cross, and fall on their knees more dead than alive.
In the third act we find Agathe, waiting for her bridesmaids. She is perturbed and sad, having had frightful dreams, and not knowing what has become of Max. Aennchen consoles her, diverting her with a merry song, until the bridesmaids {101} enter, bringing flowers and gifts. They then prepare to crown her with the bridal wreath, when lo, instead of the myrtle, there lies in the box a wreath of white roses, the ornament of the dead.
Meanwhile everybody is assembled on the lawn near Prince Ottocar's tent, to be present at the firing of the master-shot. The Prince points out to Max a white dove as an object at which to aim. At this critical moment Agathe appears, crying out: "Don't shoot Max, I am the white dove!" But it is too late; Max has fired, and Agathe sinks down at the same time as Caspar, who has been waiting behind a tree and who now falls heavily to the ground, while the dove flies away unhurt, Everybody believes that Max has shot his bride, but she is only in a swoon; the bullet has really killed the villain Caspar. It was the seventh, the direction of which Samiel reserved for himself, and Satan having no power over the pious maiden, directed it on Caspar, already forfeited to him. Max confesses his sin with deep remorse. The Prince scornfully bids him leave his dominions for ever. But Agathe prays for him, and at last the Prince follows the hermit's advice, giving the unhappy youth a year of probation, during which to prove his repentance, and grow worthy of his virtuous bride.
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FRIEND FRITZ.
A lyric Comedy in three acts by PIETRO MASCAGNI
Text after ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN'S novel of the same name.
After the immense success of Cavalleria Rusticana, the first representation of Amico Fritz was awaited with feverish impatience by the whole musical world.
But the high-strung expectations were not fulfilled. Though many pretended that the music was nobler and more artistic than that of the author's first work, the success was by no means as great as Mascagni's friends anticipated. In Vienna and Berlin it was even received with
## partial coolness. But lo, the first representation in Dresden on June
2nd 1892 took place with a marked and decided success.
The artistically trained orchestra brought out to perfection all the finesses, all the delightful shades of the music, and since that day the opera has not failed to bring a full house.
The subject in itself is too simple for Mascagni's strong dramatic talent, hence the lack of interest, hence the disillusion of so many.
Granting this, we cannot but admire the genius, which can compose an opera so full of refined and noble sentiment, based on such a simple plot.
No music more charming than the march, taken as well as the Pastorale from a national Alsacian song, none more sweet and melodious, than the Intermezzo and the cherry-duet. The {103} finely depicted details in the orchestra are a delight for musical ears.
The simple text follows strictly the French original.
Fritz Kobus, a well to do landowner receives the felicitations of his friends on his fortieth birthday. At the same time his old friend Rabbi David, as consumate a match-maker, as Fritz is an inveterate bachelor receives from the latter a loan of 1200 francs which is to enable a poor girl to marry her lover. Fritz gives it very graciously, congratulating himself, that he is free from hymen's bonds.
He treats his friends to a hearty dinner, in which Susel, his tenant's daughter, who comes to present her landlord with a nosegay of violets, joins. Fritz makes her sit beside him, and for the first time remarks the growing loveliness of the young maiden. While they are feasting a gipsy, Seppel, plays a serenade in honor of the birthday, which makes a deep impression on fair Susel. When the latter has departed, the joviality of the company increases. Hanczo and Friedrich, two friends laughingly prophesy to the indignant Fritz, that he will soon be married, and David even makes a bet, which, should he prove right will make him owner of one of his friend's vineyards. At the end of the first act a procession of orphans hail the landlord as their benefactor.
In the second act we find our friend Fritz as guest in the house of his tenant. Susel is sedulously engaged in selecting flowers and cherries for her {104} landlord, who, coming down into the garden, is presented by her with flowers. Soon she mounts a ladder, and plucking cherries, throws them to Fritz, who is uncertain which are the sweeter, the maiden's red lips or the ripe cherries, which she offers him. In the midst of their enjoyment the sound of bells and cracking of whips is heard, Fritz's friends enter. He soon takes them off for a walk, only old David stays behind with Susel, pleading fatigue. Taking occasion of her presenting him with a drink of fresh water, he makes her tell him the old story of Isaac and Rebecca and is quite satisfied to guess at the state of her feelings by the manner in which she relates the simple story. On Fritz's return he archly communicates to him that he has found a suitable husband for Susel, and that he has her father's consent. The disgust and fright, which Fritz experiences at this news reveals to him something of his own feelings for the charming maiden. He decides to return home at once, and does not even take farewell of Susel, who weeps in bitter disappointment.
In the third act Fritz, at home again, can find no peace anywhere. When David tells him that Susel's marriage is a decided fact he breaks out, and in his passion downright forbids the marriage. At this moment Susel appears, bringing her landlord a basket of fruit. She looks pale and sad, and when Fritz sarcastically asks her whether she comes to invite him to her wedding, she bursts into tears. Then the real state of her heart is {105} revealed to him, and with passionate avowal of his own love, amico Fritz takes her to his heart. So David wins his wager, which however he settles on Susel as a dowry, promising at the same time to procure wives before long for the two friends standing by.--
GENOVEVA.
Opera in four acts by ROBERT SCHUMANN.
Text after HEBBEL and TIECK.
The music of this opera is surpassingly delightful. Though Schumann's genius was not that of a dramatist of a very high order, this opera deserves to be known and esteemed universally. Nowhere can melodies be found finer or more poetical and touching than in this noble musical composition, the libretto of which may also be called interesting, though it is faulty in its want of action.
It is the old legend of Genoveva somewhat altered. Siegfried, Count of the Palatinate, is ordered by the Emperor Charles Martell to join him in the war with the infidels, who broke out of Spain under Abdurrhaman. The noble Count recommends his wife Genoveva and all he possesses, to the protection of his friend Golo, who is however secretly in love with his master's wife. After Siegfried has said farewell she falls into a swoon, which Golo takes advantage of to kiss her, thereby still further exciting his flaming passion. Genoveva finally awakes and goes away to mourn in silence for her husband.
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Golo being alone, an old hag Margaretha, whom he takes for his nurse, comes to console him.
She is in reality his mother and has great schemes for her son's future happiness. She insinuates to him that Genoveva, being alone, needs consolation and will easily be led on to accept more tender attentions, and she promises him her assistance. The second act show Genoveva's room. She longs sadly for her husband and sees with pain and disgust the insolent behavior of the servants, whose wild songs penetrate into her silent chamber.
Golo enters to bring her the news of a great victory over Abdurrhaman, news, which fill her heart with joy.
She bids Golo sing and sweetly accompanies his song, which so fires his passion that he falls upon his knees and frightens her by glowing words. Vainly she bids him leave her; he only grows more excited, till she repulses him with the word "bastard". Now his love turns into hatred, and when Drago, the faithful steward comes to announce that the servants begin to be more and more insolent, daring even to insult the good name of the Countess, Golo asserts that they speak the truth about her. He persuades the incredulous Drago to hide himself in Genoveva's room, the latter having retired for the night's rest.
Margaretha, listening at the door, hears everything. She tells Golo that Count Siegfried lies wounded at Strassbourg; she has intercepted his {107} letter to the Countess and prepares to leave for that town, in order to nurse the Count and kill him slowly by some deadly poison. Then Golo calls quickly for the servants, who all assemble to penetrate into their mistress' room. She repulses them full of wounded pride, but at last she yields, and herself taking the candle to light the room proceeds to search, when Drago is found behind the curtains and at once silenced by Golo, who runs his dagger through his heart. Genoveva is led into the prison of the castle.
The third act takes place at Strassbourg, where Siegfried is being nursed by Margaretha. His strength defies her perfidy, and he is full of impatience to return to his loving wife, when Golo enters bringing him the news of her faithlessness.
Siegfried in despair bids Golo kill her with his own sword. He decides to fly into the wilderness, but before fulfilling his design, he goes once more to Margaretha, who has promised to show him all that passed at home during his absence. He sees Genoveva in a magic looking-glass, exchanging kindly words with Drago, but there is no appearance of guilt in their intercourse. The third image shows Genoveva sleeping on her couch, and Drago approaching her. With an imprecation Siegfried starts up, bidding Golo avenge him, but at the same instant the glass flies in pieces with a terrible crash, and Drago's ghost stands before Margaretha, commanding her to tell Siegfried the truth.
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In the fourth act Genoveva is being led into the wilderness by two ruffians, who have orders to murder her. Before this is done, Golo approaches her once more, showing her Siegfried's ring and sword, with which he has been bidden kill her. He tries hard to win her, but she turns from him with scorn and loathing, preferring death to dishonor. At length relinquishing his attempts, he beckons to the murderers to do their work and hands them Count Siegfried's weapon. Genoveva in her extreme need seizes the cross of the Saviour, praying fervently, and detains the ruffians till at the last moment Siegfried appears, led by the repentant Margaretha. There ensues a touching scene of forgiveness, while Golo rushes away to meet his fate by falling over a precipice.
THE GOLDEN CROSS.
Opera in two acts by IGNAZ BRULL.
Text by MOSENTHAL.
Brull, born at Prossnitz in Moravia, Nov. 7th, 1846, received his musical education in Vienna and is well known as a good pianist. He has composed different operas, of which however the above-mentioned is the only popular one.
This charming little opera, which rendered its composer famous, has passed beyond the frontiers of Germany and is now translated into several languages.
The text is skillfully arranged, and so combined as to awaken our interest.
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The scene is laid in a village near Melun in the years between 1812 and 15.
Nicolas (or Cola) Pariset, an innkeeper, is betrothed to his cousin Thérèse. Unfortunately just on his wedding-day a sergeant, named Bombardon, levies him for the army, which is to march against the Russians. Vainly does Thérèse plead for her betrothed, and equally in vain is it that she is joined in her pleading by Nicolas' sister Christine. The latter is passionately attached to her brother, who has hitherto been her only care. Finally Christine promises to marry any man who will go as substitute for her brother. Gontran de l'Ancry, a young nobleman, whose heart is touched by the maiden's tenderness and beauty, places himself at Bombardon's disposal and receives from him the golden cross, which Christine has placed in his hands, to be offered as a pledge of fidelity to her brother's deliverer. Christine does not get to know him, as Gontran departs immediately. The act closes with Cola's marriage.
The second act takes place two years later. Cola, who could not be detained from marching against the enemy, has been wounded, but saved from being killed by an officer, who received the bullet instead. Both return to Cola's house as invalids and are tended by the two women. The strange officer, who is no other than Gontran, loves Christine and she returns his passion, but deeming herself bound to another, she does not betray her feeling. Gontran is about to bid her farewell, but {110} when in the act of taking leave, he perceives her love and tells her that he is the officer, who was once substitute for her brother in the war.
Christine is full of happiness; Gontran when asked for the token of her promise, tells her, that the cross was taken from him, as he lay senseless on the field of battle. At this moment Bombardon, returning also as invalid, presents the cross to Christine, and she believing that Gontran has lied to her and that Bombardon is her brother's substitute, promises her hand to him, with a bleeding heart, but Bombardon relates that the true owner of the cross has fallen on the battle-field and that he took it from the dead body. Christine now resolves to enter in a convent, when suddenly Gontran's voice is heard. Bombardon recognizes his friend, whom he believed to be dead, everything is explained and the scene ends with the marriage of the good and true lovers.
THE TWO GRENADIERS.
Comic Opera in three acts by ALBERT LORTZING.
Text adapted from the French.
After a long interval of quiet Lortzing's charming music seems to be brought to honor again and no wonder.--The ears of the public grow overtired, or may we say over-taxed by Wagner's grand music, which his followers still surpass, though only in noise and external effects; they long for simplicity, for melody. Well, Lortzing's operas overflow with real, true, simple melody, and {111} generally in genuine good humour.--For many years only two of his operas have been performed, viz, "Undine" and "Czar and Zimmermann".--Now Hamburg has set the good example, by representing a whole cyclus (seven operas of Lortzing's), and Dresden has followed with the "Two Grenadiers."
The opera was composed in the year 1837 and is of French origin and though its music breathes German humour and naïveté, the French influence may be felt clearly. The persons show life and movement, the music is light-hearted, graceful and truly comic.
The scene takes place in a little country-town, where we find Busch, a wealthy inn-keeper, making preparations for the arrival of his only son. The young man had entered a Grenadier regiment at the age of sixteen, ten years before, so the joyful event of his home-coming is looked forward to with pleasure by his father and sister Suschen, but with anxiety by a friend of hers, Caroline, to whom young Busch had been affianced before joining his regiment.
Enter two young Grenadiers from the regiment on leave, the younger of whom falls in love with Suschen at first sight. However as the elder Grenadier, Schwarzbart, dolefully remarks, they are both almost pennyless and he reflects how he can possibly help them in their need. His meditations are interrupted by the arrival of the landlord, who, seeing the two knapsacks, and recognizing one of them as that of his son, naturally supposes the owner to be his offspring, in which belief he is {112} confirmed by Schwarzbart, who is induced to practice this deceit, partly by the desire of getting a good dinner and the means of quenching his insatiable thirst, partly by the hope of something turning up in favour of his companion in arms, Wilhelm. As a matter of fact the knapsack does not belong to Wilhelm at all. On leaving the inn, at which the banquet following the wedding of one of their comrades, had been held, the knapsacks had inadvertently been exchanged much to Wilhelm's dismay, his own containing a lottery ticket which, as he has just learnt, had won a great prize. The supposed son is of course received with every demonstration of affection by his fond parent, but though submitting with a very good grace to the endearments of his supposed sister--the maiden, with whom he had fallen in love so suddenly--he resolutely declines being hugged and made much of by the old landlord, this double-part being entirely distasteful to his straightforward nature. Nor does his affianced bride, the daughter of the bailiff, fare any better, his affections being placed elsewhere, and their bewilderment is only somewhat appeased by Schwarzbart's explanation that his comrade suffers occasionally from weakness of the brain.