PART II

. "LES TROYENS À CARTHAGE"

THE TROJANS IN CARTHAGE

Opera in five acts. Music by Berlioz. Words by the composer. Produced, Paris, November 4, 1863, when it failed completely. Revived, 1890, in Karlsruhe, under the direction of Felix Mottl. Mottl's performances in Karlsruhe, in 1890, of "La Prise de Troie" and "Les Troyens à Carthage" constituted the first complete production of "Les Troyens."

CHARACTERS

DIDO _Soprano_ ANNA _Contralto_ ÆNEAS _Tenor_ ASCANIUS _Soprano_ PANTHEUS _Bass_ NARBAL _Bass_ JOPAS _Tenor_ HYLAS _Tenor_

_Time_--1183 B.C.

_Place_--Carthage.

## Act I. In the summer-house of her palace _Dido_ tells her retainers

that the savage Numidian King, Jarbas, has asked for her hand, but she has decided to live only for the memory of her dead husband. Today, however, shall be devoted to festive games. The lyric poet _Jopas_ enters and announces the approach of strangers, who have escaped from the dangers of the sea. They arrive and _Ascanius_, son of _Æneas_, begs entertainment for a few days for himself and his companions. This _Dido_ gladly grants them. Her Minister, _Narbal_, rushes in. The Numidian king has invaded the country. Who will march against him? _Æneas_, who had concealed himself in disguise among his sailors, steps forth and offers to defend the country against the enemy.

## Act II. A splendid festival is in progress in Dido's garden in honour

of the victor, _Æneas_. _Dido_ loves _Æneas_, who tells her of Andromache, and how, in spite of her grief over _Hector_, she has laid aside her mourning and given her hand to another. Why should _Dido_ not do likewise? Night closes in, and under its cover both pledge their love and faith.

Has _Æneas_ forgotten his task? To remind him, Mercury appears and strikes resoundingly on the weapons that have been laid aside, while invisible voices call out to _Æneas_: "Italie!"

## Act III. Public festivities follow the betrothal of _Dido_ and

_Æneas_. But _Dido's_ faithful Minister knows that, although _Æneas_ is a kingly lover, it is the will of the gods that the Trojan proceed to Italy; and that to defy the gods is fatal.

Meanwhile the destiny of the lovers is fulfilled. During a hunt they seek shelter from a thunderstorm in a cave. There they seal their love compact. (This scene is in pantomime.)

## Act IV. The Trojans are incensed that _Æneas_ places love ahead of

duty. They have determined to seek the land of their destiny without him. Finally _Æneas_ awakes from his infatuation and, when the voices of his illustrious dead remind him of his duty, he resolves, in spite of _Dido's_ supplications, to depart at once.

## Act V. Early morning brings to _Dido_ in her palace the knowledge that

she has lost _Æneas_ forever. She decides not to survive her loss. On the sea beach she orders a huge pyre erected. All the love tokens of the faithless one are fed to the flames. She herself ascends the pyre. Her vision takes in the great future of Carthage and the greater one of Rome. Then she throws herself on her lover's sword.

LA DAMNATION DE FAUST

THE DAMNATION OF FAUST

In its original form a "dramatic legend" in four parts for the concert stage. Music by Hector Berlioz. Words, after Gerald de Nerval's version of Goethe's play, by Berlioz, Gérard, and Gandonnière. Produced in its original form as a concert piece at the Opéra Comique, Paris, December 6, 1846; London, two parts of the work, under Berlioz's direction, Drury Lane, February 7, 1848; first complete performance in England, Free Trade Hall, Manchester, February 5, 1880. New York, February 12, 1880, by Dr. Leopold Damrosch. Adapted for the operatic stage by Raoul Gunsberg, and produced by him at Monte Carlo, February 18, 1893, with Jean de Reszke as _Faust_; revived there March, 1902, with Melba, Jean de Reszke, and Maurice Renaud. Given in Paris with Calvé, Alvarez, and Renaud, to celebrate the centennial of Berlioz's birth, December 11, 1903. New York, Metropolitan Opera House, December 7, 1906; Manhattan Opera House, November 6, 1907, with Dalmorès as _Faust_ and Renaud as _Méphistophélès_.

CHARACTERS

MARGUERITE _Soprano_ FAUST _Tenor_ MÉPHISTOPHÉLÈS _Bass_ BRANDER _Bass_

Students, soldiers, citizens, men and women, fairies, etc.

_Time_--Eighteenth Century.

_Place_--A town in Germany.

In the first part of Berlioz's dramatic legend _Faust_ is supposed to be on the Plains of Hungary. Introspectively he sings of nature and solitude. There are a chorus and dance of peasants and a recitative. Soldiers march past to the stirring measures of the "Rákóczy March," the national air of Hungary.

This march Berlioz orchestrated in Vienna, during his tour of 1845, and conducted it at a concert in Pesth, when it created the greatest enthusiasm. It was in order to justify the interpolation of this march that he laid the first scene of his dramatic legend on the plains of Hungary. Liszt claimed that his pianoforte transcription of the march had freely been made use of by Berlioz, "especially in the harmony."

In the operatic version Gunsbourg shows _Faust_ in a mediæval chamber, with a view, through a window, of the sally-port of a castle, out of which the soldiers march. At one point in the march, which Berlioz has treated contrapuntally, and where it would be difficult for marchers to keep step, the soldiers halt and have their standards solemnly blessed.

The next part of the dramatic legend only required a stage setting to make it operatic. _Faust_ is in his study. He is about to quaff poison, when the walls part and disclose a church interior. The congregation, kneeling, sings the Easter canticle, "Christ is Risen." Change of scene to Auerbach's cellar, Leipsic. Revel of students and soldiers. _Brander_ sings the "Song of the Rat," whose death is mockingly grieved over by a "Requiescat in pace" and a fugue on the word "Amen," sung by the roistering crowd. _Méphistophélès_ then "obliges" with the song of the flea, in which the skipping about of the elusive insect is depicted in the accompaniment.

In the next scene in the dramatic legend, _Faust_ is supposed to be asleep on the banks of the Elbe. Here is the most exquisite effect of the score, the "Dance of the Sylphs," a masterpiece of delicate and airy illustration. Violoncellos, _con sordini_, hold a single note as a pedal point, over which is woven a gossamer fabric of melody and harmony, ending with the faintest possible pianissimo from drum and harps. Gunsbourg employed here, with admirable results, the aërial ballet, and has given a rich and beautiful setting to the scene, including a vision of _Marguerite_. The ballet is followed by a chorus of soldiers and a students' song in Latin.

The scenic directions of Gounod's "Faust" call _Marguerite's_ house--so much of it as is projected into the garden scene--a pavilion. Gunsbourg makes it more like an arbour, into which the audience can see through the elimination of a supposedly existing wall, the same as in _Sparafucile's_ house, in the last act of "Rigoletto." Soldiers and students are strolling and singing in the street. _Marguerite_ sings the ballad of the King of Thule. Berlioz's setting of the song is primitive. He aptly characterizes the number as a "Chanson Gothique." The "Invocation" of _Méphistophélès_ is followed by the "Dance of Will-o'-the-Wisps." Then comes _Méphistophélès's_ barocque serenade. _Faust_ enters _Marguerite's_ pavilion. There is a love duet, which becomes a trio when _Méphistophélès_ joins the lovers and urges _Faust's_ departure.

_Marguerite_ is alone. Berlioz, instead of using Goethe's song, "Meine Ruh ist hin" (My peace is gone), the setting of which by Schubert is famous, substitutes a poem of his own. The unhappy _Marguerite_ sings, "D'Amour, l'ardente flamme" (Love, devouring fire).

The singing of the students and the soldiers grows fainter. The "retreat"--the call to which the flag is lowered at sunset--is sounded by the drums and trumpets. _Marguerite_, overcome by remorse, swoons at the window.

A mountain gorge. _Faust's_ soliloquy, "Nature, immense, impénétrable et fière" (Nature, vast, unfathomable and proud). The "Ride to Hell"; moving panorama; pandemonium; redemption of _Marguerite_, whom angels are seen welcoming in the softly illumined heavens far above the town, in which the action is supposed to have transpired.

The production by Dr. Leopold Damrosch of "La Damnation de Faust" in its original concert form in New York, was one of the sensational events of the concert history of America. As an opera, however, the work has failed so far to make the impression that might have been expected from its effect on concert audiences; "... the experiment, though tried in various theatres," says Grove's _Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, "has happily not been permanently successful." Why "happily"? It would be an advantage to operatic art if a work by so distinguished a composer as Berlioz could find a permanent place in the repertoire.

Gounod's "Faust," Boïto's "Mefistofele," and Berlioz's "La Damnation de Faust" are the only settings of the Faust legend, or, more properly speaking, of Goethe's "Faust," with which a book on opera need concern itself. Gounod's "Faust," with its melodious score, and full of a sentiment that more than occasionally verges on sentimentality, has genuine popular appeal, and is likely long to maintain itself in the repertoire. "Mefistofele," nevertheless, is the profounder work. Boïto, in his setting, sounds Goethe's drama to greater depths than Gounod. It always will be preferred by those who do not have to be written down to. "La Damnation de Faust," notwithstanding its brilliant and still modern orchestration, is the most truly mediæval of the three scores. Berlioz himself characterizes the ballad of the King of Thule as "Gothic." The same spirit of the Middle Ages runs through much of the work. In several important details the operatic adaptation has been clumsily made. Were it improved in these details, this "Faust" of Berlioz would have a chance of more than one revival.

F. von Flotow

MARTHA

Opera in four acts, by Friedrich von Flotow; words by Wilhelm Friedrich Riese, the plot based on a French ballet pantomime by Jules H. Vernoy and Marquis St. Georges (see p. 559). Produced at the Imperial Opera House, Vienna, November 25, 1847. Covent Garden, London, July 1, 1858, in Italian; in English at Drury Lane, October 11, 1858. Paris, Théâtre Lyrique, December 16, 1865, when was interpolated the famous air "M'apparì," from Flotow's two-act opera, "L'Âme en Peine," produced at the Grand Opéra, Paris, June, 1846. New York, Niblo's Garden, November 1, 1852, with Mme. Anna Bishop; in French, at New Orleans, January 27, 1860. An opera of world-wide popularity, in which, in this country, the title rôle has been sung by Nilsson, Patti, Gerster, Kellogg, Parepa-Rosa, and Sembrich, and _Lionel_ by Campanini and Caruso.

CHARACTERS

LADY HARRIET DURHAM, Maid of Honor to Queen Anne _Soprano_ LORD TRISTAN DE MIKLEFORD, her cousin _Bass_ PLUNKETT, a young farmer _Bass_ LIONEL, his foster-brother. Afterwards Earl of Derby _Tenor_ NANCY, waiting-maid to Lady Harriet _Contralto_ SHERIFF _Bass_ THREE MAN SERVANTS _Tenor_ and two _Basses_ THREE MAID SERVANTS _Soprano_ and two _Mezzo-Sopranos_

Courtiers, pages, ladies, hunters and huntresses, farmers, servants, etc.

_Time_--About 1710.

_Place_--In and near Richmond.

The first act opens in _Lady Harriet's_ boudoir. The second scene of this act is the fair at Richmond. The scene of the second act is laid in _Plunkett's_ farmhouse; that of the third in a forest near Richmond. The fourth act opens in the farmhouse and changes to _Lady Harriet's_ park.

## Act I. Scene 1. The _Lady Harriet_ yawned. It was dull even at the

court of Queen Anne.

"Your Ladyship," said _Nancy_, her sprightly maid, "here are flowers from _Sir Tristan_."

"Their odour sickens me," was her ladyship's weary comment.

"And these diamonds!" urged _Nancy_, holding up a necklace for her mistress to view.

"They hurt my eyes," said her ladyship petulantly.

The simple fact is the _Lady Harriet_, like many others whose pleasures come so easily that they lack zest, was bored. Even the resourceful _Nancy_, a prize among maids, was at last driven to exclaim:

"If your ladyship only would fall in love!"

But herein, too, _Lady Harriet_ had the surfeit that creates indifference. She had bewitched every man at court only to remain unmoved by their protestations of passion. Even as _Nancy_ spoke, a footman announced the most persistent of her ladyship's suitors, _Sir Tristan of Mikleford_, an elderly cousin who presumed upon his relationship to ignore the rebuffs with which she met his suit. _Sir Tristan_ was a creature of court etiquette. His walk, his gesture, almost his speech itself were reduced to rule and method. The stiffness that came with age made his exaggerated manner the more ridiculous. In fact he was the incarnation of everything that the _Lady Harriet_ was beginning to find intolerably tedious.

"Most respected cousin, Lady in Waiting to Her Most Gracious Majesty," he began sententiously, and would have added all her titles had she not cut him short with an impatient gesture, "will your ladyship seek diversion by viewing the donkey races with me today?"

"I wonder," _Nancy_ whispered so that none but her mistress could hear, "if he is going to run in the races himself?" which evoked from the _Lady Harriet_ the first smile that had played around her lips that day. Seeing this and attributing it to her pleasure at his invitation _Sir Tristan_ sighed like a wheezy bellows and cast sentimental glances at her with his watery eyes. To stop this ridiculous exhibition of vanity her ladyship straightway sent him trotting about the room on various petty pretexts. "Fetch my fan, Sir!--Now my smelling salts--I feel a draught. Would you close the window, cousin? Ah, I stifle for want of air! Open it again!"

To these commands _Sir Tristan_ responded with as much alacrity as his stiff joints would permit, until _Nancy_ again whispered to her mistress, "See! He is running for the prize!"

Likely enough _Sir Tristan's_ fair cousin soon would have sent him on some errand that would have taken him out of her presence. But when he opened the window again, in came the strains of a merry chorus sung by fresh, happy voices of young women who, evidently, were walking along the highway. The _Lady Harriet's_ curiosity was piqued. Who were these women over whose lives ennui never seemed to have hung like a pall? _Nancy_ knew all about them. They were servants on the way to the Richmond fair to hire themselves out to the farmers, according to time-honoured custom.

[Illustration: Photo by White

Ober and De Luca; Caruso and Hempel in "Martha"]

The Richmond fair! To her ladyship's jaded senses it conveyed a suggestion of something new and frolicsome. "Nancy," she cried, carried away with the novelty of the idea, "let us go to the fair dressed as peasant girls and mingle with the crowd! Who knows, someone might want to hire us! I will call myself Martha, you can be Julia, and you, cousin, can drop your title for the nonce and go along with us as plain Bob!" And when _Sir Tristan_, shocked at the thought that a titled lady should be willing so to lower herself, to say nothing of the part he himself was asked to play, protested, she appealed to him with a feigned tenderness that soon won his consent to join them in their lark. Then to give him a foretaste of what was expected of him, they took him, each by an arm, and danced him about the room, shouting with mock admiration as he half slid, half stumbled, "Bravo! What grace! What agility!"

The _Lady Harriet_ actually was enjoying herself.

## Scene 2. Meanwhile the Richmond fair was at its height. From a large

parchment the pompous _Sheriff_ had read the law by which all contracts for service made at the fair were binding for at least one year as soon as money had passed. Among those who had come to bid were a sturdy young farmer, _Plunkett_, and his foster-brother _Lionel_. The latter evidently was of a gentler birth, but his parentage was shrouded in mystery. As a child he had been left with _Plunkett's_ mother by a fugitive, an aged man who, dying from exposure and exhaustion, had confided the boy to her care, first, however, handing her a ring with the injunction that if misfortune ever threatened the boy, to show the ring to the queen.

One after another the girls proclaimed their deftness at cooking, sewing, gardening, poultry tending, and other domestic and rural accomplishments, the _Sheriff_ crying out, "Four guineas! Who'll have her?--Five guineas! Who'll try her?" Many of them cast eyes at the two handsome young farmers, hoping to be engaged by them. But they seemed more critical than the rest.

Just then they heard a young woman's voice behind them call out, "No, I won't go with you!" and, turning, they saw two sprightly young women arguing with a testy looking old man who seemed to have a ridiculous idea of his own importance. _Lionel_ and _Plunkett_ nudged each other. Never had they seen such attractive looking girls. And when they heard one of them call out again to the old man, "No, we won't go with you!"--for _Sir Tristan_ was urging the _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_ to leave the fair--the young men hurried over to the group.

"Can't you hear her say she won't go with you?" asked _Lionel_, while _Plunkett_ called out to the girls near the _Sheriff's_ stand, "Here, girls, is a bidder with lots of money!" A moment later the absurd old man was the centre of a rioting, shouting crowd of girls, who followed him when he tried to retreat, so that finally "Martha" and "Julia" were left quite alone with the two men. The young women were in high spirits. They had sallied forth in quest of adventure and here it was. _Lionel_ and _Plunkett_, on the other hand, suddenly had become very shy. There was in the demeanour of these girls something quite different from what they had been accustomed to in other serving maids. Somehow they had an "air," and it made the young men bashful. _Plunkett_ tried to push _Lionel_ forward, but the latter hung back.

"Watch me then," said _Plunkett_. He advanced as if to speak to the young women, but came to a halt and stood there covered with confusion. It chanced that _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_ had been watching these men with quite as much interest as they had been watched by them. _Lionel_, who bore himself with innate grace and refinement under his peasant garb, had immediately attracted "Martha," while the sturdier _Plunkett_ had caught "Julia's" eye, and they were glad when, after a few slyly reassuring glances from them, _Plunkett_ overcame his hesitancy and spoke up:

"You're our choice, girls! We'll pay fifty crowns a year for wages, with half a pint of ale on Sundays and plum pudding on New Year's thrown in for extras."

"Done!" cried the girls, who thought it all a great lark, and a moment later the _Lady Harriet_ had placed her hand in _Lionel's_ and _Nancy_ hers in _Plunkett's_ and money had passed to bind the bargain.

And now, thinking the adventure had gone far enough and that it was time for them to be returning to court, they cast about them for _Sir Tristan_. He, seeing them talking on apparently intimate terms with two farmers, was scandalized and, having succeeded in standing off the crowd by scattering money about him, he called out brusquely, "Come away!"

"Come away?" repeated _Plunkett_ after him. "_Come away?_ Didn't these girls let you know plainly enough a short time ago that they wouldn't hire out to you?"

"But I rather think," interposed "Martha," who was becoming slightly alarmed, "that it is time for 'Julia' and myself to go."

"What's that!" exclaimed _Plunkett_. "_Go?_ No, indeed," he added with emphasis. "You may repent of your bargain, though I don't see why. But it is binding for a year."

"If only you knew who," began _Sir Tristan_, and he was about to tell who the young women were. But "Martha" quickly whispered to him not to disclose their identity, as the escapade, if it became known, would make them the sport of the court. Moreover _Plunkett_ and _Lionel_ were growing impatient at the delay and, when the crowd again gathered about _Sir Tristan_, they hurried off the girls,--who did not seem to protest as much as might have been expected,--lifted them into a farm wagon, and drove off, while the crowd blocked the blustering knight and jeered as he vainly tried to break away in pursuit.

## Act II. The adventure of the _Lady Harriet_ and her maid _Nancy_, so

lightly entered upon, was carrying them further than they had expected. To find themselves set down in a humble farmhouse, as they did soon after they left the fair, and to be told to go into the kitchen and prepare supper, was more than they had bargained for.

"Kitchen work!" exclaimed the _Lady Harriet_ contemptuously.

"Kitchen work!" echoed _Nancy_ in the same tone of voice.

_Plunkett_ was for having his orders carried out. But _Lionel_ interceded. A certain innate gallantry that already had appealed to her ladyship, made him feel that although these young women were servants, they were, somehow, to be treated differently. He suggested as a substitute for the kitchen that they be allowed to try their hands at the spinning wheels. But they were so awkward at these that the men sat down to show them how to spin, until _Nancy_ brought the lesson to an abrupt close by saucily overturning _Plunkett's_ wheel and dashing away with the young farmer in pursuit, leaving _Lionel_ and "Martha" alone.

It was an awkward moment for her ladyship, since she could hardly fail to be aware that _Lionel_ was regarding her with undisguised admiration. To relieve the situation she began to hum and, finally, to sing, choosing her favorite air, "The Last Rose of Summer." But it had the very opposite effect of what she had planned. For she sang the charming melody so sweetly and with such tender expression that Lionel, completely carried away, exclaimed: "Ah, Martha, if you were to marry me, you no longer would be a servant, for I would raise you to my own station!"

As _Lionel_ stood there she could not help noting that he was handsome and graceful. Yet that a farmer should suggest to her, the spoiled darling of the court, that he would raise her to _his_ station, struck her as so ridiculous that she burst out laughing. Just then, fortunately, _Plunkett_ dragged in _Nancy_, whom he had pursued into the kitchen, where she had upset things generally before he had been able to seize her; and a distant tower clock striking midnight, the young farmers allowed their servants, whose accomplishments as such, if they had any, so far remained undiscovered, to retire to their room, while they sought theirs, but not before _Lionel_ had whispered:

"Perchance by the morrow, Martha, you will think differently of what I have said and not treat it so lightly."

## Act III. But when morning came the birds had flown the cage. There was

neither a Martha nor a Julia in the little farmhouse, while at the court of Queen Anne a certain _Lady Harriet_ and her maid _Nancy_ were congratulating themselves that, after all, an old fop named _Sir Tristan of Mikleford_ had had sense enough to be in waiting with a carriage near the farmhouse at midnight and helped them escape through the window. It even is not unlikely that within a week the _Lady Harriet_, who was so anxious not to have her escapade become known, might have been relating it at court as a merry adventure and that _Nancy_ might have been doing the same in the servants' hall. But unbeknown to the others, there had been a fifth person in the little farmhouse, none other than Dan Cupid, who had hidden himself, perhaps behind the clock, and from this vantage place of concealment had discharged arrows, not at random, but straight at the hearts of two young women and two young men. And they had not recovered from their wounds. The _Lady Harriet_ no longer was bored; she was sad; and even _Nancy_ had lost her sprightliness. The two men, one of them so courteous despite his peasant garb, the other sturdy and commanding, with whom their adventure had begun at the Richmond fair and ended after midnight at the farmhouse, had brought some zest into their lives; they were so different from the smooth, insincere courtiers by whom the _Lady Harriet_ had been surrounded and from the men servants who aped their masters and with whom _Nancy_ had been thrown when she was not with her ladyship. The simple fact is that the _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_, without being certain of it themselves, were in love, her ladyship with _Lionel_ and _Nancy_ with _Plunkett_. Of course, there was the difference in station between _Lady Harriet_ and _Lionel_. But he had the touch of innate breeding that made her at times forget that he was a peasant while she was a lady of title. As for _Nancy_ and _Plunkett_, that lively young woman felt that she needed just such a strong hand as his to keep her out of mischief. And so it happened that the diversions of the court again palled upon them and that, when a great hunt was organized in which the court ladies were asked to join, the _Lady Harriet_, although she looked most dapper in her hunting costume, found the sport without zest and soon wandered off into the forest solitudes.

Here, too, it chanced that _Lionel_, in much the same state of mind and heart as her ladyship, was wandering, when, suddenly looking up, he saw a young huntress in whom, in spite of her different costume, he recognized the "Martha" over whose disappearance he had been grieving. But she was torn by conflicting feelings. However her heart might go out toward _Lionel_, her pride of birth still rebelled against permitting a peasant to address words of love to her. "You are mistaken. I do not know you!" she exclaimed. And when he first appealed to her in passionate accents and then in anger began to upbraid her for denying her identity to him who was by law her master, she cried out for help, bringing not only _Sir Tristan_ but the entire hunting train to her side. Noting the deference with which she was treated and hearing her called "My Lady," _Lionel_ now perceived the trick that had been played upon himself and _Plunkett_ at the fair. Infuriated at the heartless deceit of which he was a victim, he protested: "But if she accepted earnest money from me, if she bound herself to serve me for a year----"

He was interrupted by a shout of laughter from the bystanders, and the _Lady Harriet_, quickly profiting by the incredulity with which his words were received, exclaimed:

"I never have laid eyes on him before. He is a madman and should be apprehended!"

Immediately _Lionel_ was surrounded and might have been roughly handled, had not my lady herself, moved partly by pity, partly by a deeper feeling that kept asserting itself in spite of all, begged that he be kindly treated.

## Act IV. Before very long, however, there was a material change in the

situation. In his extremity, _Lionel_ remembered about his ring and he asked _Plunkett_ to show it to the queen and plead his cause. The ring proved to have been the property of the Earl of Derby. It was that nobleman who, after the failure of a plot to recall James II. from France and restore him to the throne, had died a fugitive and confided his son to the care of _Plunkett's_ mother, and that son was none other than _Lionel_, now discovered to be the rightful heir to the title and estates. Naturally he was received with high favor at the court of Anne, the daughter of the king to whom the old earl had rendered such faithful service.

Despite his new honours, however, _Lionel_ was miserably unhappy. He was deeply in love with the _Lady Harriet_. Yet he hardly could bring himself to speak to her, let alone appear so much as even to notice the advances which she, in her contrition, so plainly made toward him. So, while she too suffered, he went about lonely and desolate, eating out his heart with love and the feeling of injured pride that prevented him from acknowledging it.

This sad state of affairs might have continued indefinitely had not _Nancy's_ nimble wit come to the rescue. She and _Plunkett_, after meeting again, had been quick in coming to an understanding, and now the first thing they did was to plan how to bring together _Lionel_ and the _Lady Harriet_, who were so plainly in love with each other. One afternoon _Plunkett_ joined _Lionel_ in his lonely walk and, unknown to him, gradually guided him into her ladyship's garden. A sudden turn in the path brought them in view of a bustling scene. There were booths as at the Richmond fair, a crowd of servants and farmers and a sheriff calling out the accomplishments of the girls. As the crowd saw the two men, there was a hush. Then above it _Lionel_ heard a sweet, familiar voice singing:

'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem; Since the lonely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them, Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed-- Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.

The others quickly vanished. "Martha!" cried _Lionel_. "Martha! Is it really you?" She stood before him in her servant's garb, no longer, however, smiling and coquettish as at Richmond, but with eyes cast down and sad.

And then as if answering to a would-be master's question of "What can you do?" she said: "I can forget all my dreams of wealth and gold. I can despise all the dross in which artifice and ignoble ambition mask themselves. I can put all these aside and remember only those accents of love and tenderness that I would have fall upon my hearing once more." She raised her eyes pleadingly to _Lionel_. All that had intervened was swept away. _Lionel_ saw only the girl he loved. And, a moment later, he held his "Martha" in his arms.

* * * * *

"Martha" teems with melody. The best-known airs are "The Last Rose of Summer" and _Lionel's_ "M'apparì" (Like a dream). The best ensemble piece, a quintet with chorus, occurs near the close of Act III.--"Ah! che a voi perdoni Iddio" (Ah! May Heaven to you grant pardon). The spinning-wheel quartet in Act II is most sprightly. But, as indicated, there is a steady flow of light and graceful melody in this opera. Almost at the very opening of Act I, _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_ have a duet, "Questo duol che si v'affana" (Of the knights so brave and charming). Bright, clever music abounds in the Richmond fair scene, and _Lionel_ and _Plunkett_ express their devotion to each other in "Solo, profugo, reietto" (Lost, proscribed, a friendless wanderer), and "Ne giammai saper potemmo" (Never have we learned his station). Then there is the gay quartet when the two girls leave the fair with their masters, while the crowd surrounds _Sir Tristan_ and prevents him from breaking through and interfering. It was in this scene that the bass singer Castelmary, the _Sir Tristan_ of a performance of "Martha" at the Metropolitan Opera House, February 10, 1897, was stricken with heart failure and dropped dead upon the stage.

A capital quartet opens Act II, in the farmhouse, and leads to the spinning-wheel quartet, "Di vederlo" (What a charming occupation). There is a duet between _Lady Harriet_ and _Lionel_, in which their growing attraction for each other finds expression, "Il suo sguardo è dolce tanto" (To his eye, mine gently meeting). Then follows "Qui sola, vergin rosa" ('Tis the last rose of summer), the words a poem by Tom Moore, the music an old Irish air, "The Groves of Blarney," to which Moore adapted "The Last Rose of Summer." A new and effective touch is given to the old song by Flotow in having the tenor join with the soprano at the close. Moreover, the words and music fit so perfectly into the situation on the stage that for Flotow to have "lifted" and interpolated them into his opera was a master-stroke. To it "Martha" owes much of its popularity.

[Music: 'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone,]

There is a duet for _Lady Harriet_ and _Lionel_, "Ah! ride del mio pianto" (She is laughing at my sorrow). The scene ends with another quartet, one of the most beautiful numbers of the score, and known as the "Good Night Quartet," "Dormi pur, ma il mio riposo" (Cruel one, may dreams transport thee).

## Act III, played in a hunting park in Richmond forest, on the left a

small inn, opens with a song in praise of porter, the "Canzone del Porter" by _Plunkett_, "Chi mi dirà?" (Will you tell me). The pièces de résistance of this act are the "M'apparì"; a solo for _Nancy_, "Il tuo stral nel lanciar"

[Music]

(Huntress fair, hastens where); _Martha's_ song, "Qui tranquilla almen poss'io" (Here in deepest forest shadows); and the stirring quintet with chorus.

[Music]

In Act IV there are a solo for _Plunkett_, "Il mio Lionel perirà" (Soon my Lionel will perish), and a repetition of some of the sprightly music of the fair scene.

* * * * *

It is not without considerable hesitation that I have classed "Martha" as a French opera. For Flotow was born in Teutendorf, April 27, 1812, and died in Darmstadt January 24, 1883. Moreover, "Martha," was produced in Vienna, and his next best-known work, "Alessandro Stradella," in Hamburg (1844).

The music of "Martha," however, has an elegance that not only is quite unlike any music that has come out of Germany, but is typically French. Flotow, in fact, was French in his musical training, and both the plot and score of "Martha" were French in origin. The composer studied composition in Paris under Reicha, 1827-30, leaving Paris solely on account of the July revolution, and returning in 1835, to remain until the revolution in March, 1848, once more drove him away. After living in Paris again, 1863-8, he settled near Vienna, making, however, frequent visits to that city, the French capital, and Italy.

During his second stay in Paris he composed for the Grand Opéra the first act of a ballet, "Harriette, ou la Servante de Greenwiche." This ballet, the text by Vernoy and St. George, was for Adèle Dumilâtre. The reason Flotow was entrusted with only one of the three acts was the short time in which it was necessary to complete the score. The other acts were assigned, one each, to Robert Bergmüller and Édouard Deldevez. Of this ballet, written and composed for a French dancer and a French audience, "Martha" is an adaptation. This accounts for its being so typically French and not in the slightest degree German. Flotow's opera "Alessandro Stradella" also is French in origin. It is adapted from a one-act _pièce lyrique_, brought out by him in Paris, in 1837. Few works produced so long ago as "Martha" have its freshness, vivacity, and charm. Pre-eminently graceful, it yet carries in a large auditorium like the Metropolitan, where so many operas of the lighter variety have been lost in space.

Charles François Gounod

(1818-1893)

The composer of "Faust" was born in Paris, June 17, 1818. His father had, in 1783, won the second prix de Rome for painting at the École des Beaux Arts. In 1837, the son won the second prix de Rome for music, and two years later captured the grand prix de Rome, by twenty-five votes out of twenty-seven, at the Paris Conservatoire. His instructors there had been Reicha in harmony, Halévy in counterpoint and fugue, and Leseur in composition.

Gounod's first works, in Rome and after his return from there, were religious. At one time he even thought of becoming an abbé, and on the title-page of one of his published works he is called Abbé Charles Gounod. A performance of his "Messe Solenelle" in London evoked so much praise from both English and French critics that the Grand Opéra commissioned him to write an opera. The result was "Sapho," performed April 16, 1851, without success. It was his "Faust" which gave him European fame. "Faust" and his "Roméo et Juliette" (both of which see) suffice for the purposes of this book, none of his other operas having made a decided success.

"La Rédemption," and "Mors et Vita," Birmingham, England, 1882 and 1885, are his best-known religious compositions. They are "sacred trilogies." Gounod died, Paris, October 17, 1893.

In Dr. Theodore Baker's _Biographical Dictionary of Musicians_ Gounod's merits as a composer are summed up as follows: "Gounod's compositions are of highly poetic order, more spiritualistic than realistic; in his finest lyrico-dramatic moments he is akin to Weber, and his modulation even reminds of Wagner; his instrumentation and orchestration are frequently original and masterly." These words are as true today as when they were written, seventeen years ago.

FAUST

Opera, in five acts, by Gounod; words by Barbier and Carré. Produced, Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, March 19, 1859, with Miolan-Carvalho as _Marguerite_; Grand Opéra, Paris, March 3, 1869, with Christine Nilsson as _Marguerite_, Colin as _Faust_, and Faure as _Méphistophélès_. London, Her Majesty's Theatre, June 11, 1863; Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden, July 2, 1863, in Italian, as "Faust e Margherita"; Her Majesty's Theatre, January 23, 1864, in an English version by Chorley, for which, Santley being the _Valentine_, Gounod composed what was destined to become one of the most popular numbers of the opera, "Even bravest heart may swell" ("_Dio possente_"). New York, Academy of Music, November 26, 1863, in Italian, with Clara Louise Kellogg (_Margherita_), Henrietta Sulzer (_Siebel_), Fanny Stockton (_Martha_), Francesco Mazzoleni (_Faust_), Hannibal Biachi (_Méphistophélès_), G. Yppolito (_Valentine_), D. Coletti (_Wagner_). Metropolitan Opera House, opening night, October 22, 1883, with Nilsson, Scalchi, Lablache, Campanini, Novara, Del Puente.

CHARACTERS

FAUST, a learned doctor _Tenor_ MÉPHISTOPHÉLÈS, Satan _Bass_ MARGUERITE _Soprano_ VALENTINE, a soldier, brother to Marguerite _Baritone_ SIEBEL, a village youth, in love with Marguerite _Mezzo-Soprano_ WAGNER, a student _Baritone_ MARTHA SCHWERLEIN, neighbour to Marguerite _Mezzo-Soprano_

Students, soldiers, villagers, angels, demons, Cleopatra, Laïs, Helen of Troy, and others.

_Time_--16th Century.

_Place_--Germany.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Plançon as Méphistophélès in "Faust"]

Popular in this country from the night of its American production, Gounod's "Faust" nevertheless did not fully come into its own here until during the Maurice Grau régime at the Metropolitan Opera House. Sung in French by great artists, every one of whom was familiar with the traditions of the Grand Opéra, Paris, the work was given so often that William J. Henderson cleverly suggested "Faustspielhaus" as an appropriate substitute for the name of New York's yellow brick temple of opera; a _mot_ which led Krehbiel, in a delightful vein of banter, to exclaim, "Henderson, your German jokes are better than your serious German!"

Several distinguished singers have been heard in this country in the rôle of _Faust_. It is doubtful if that beautiful lyric number, _Faust's_ romance, "Salut! demeure chaste et pure" (Hail to the dwelling chaste and pure), ever has been delivered here with more exquisite vocal phrasing than by Campanini, who sang the Italian version, in which the romance becomes "Salve! dimora casta e pura." That was in the old Academy of Music days, with Christine Nilsson as _Marguerite_, which she had sung at the revival of the work by the Paris Grand Opéra. The more impassioned outbursts of the _Faust_ rôle also were sung with fervid expression by Campanini, so great an artist, in the best Italian manner, that he had no Italian successor until Caruso appeared upon the scene.

Yet, in spite of the _Faust_ of these two Italian artists, Jean de Reszke remains the ideal _Faust_ of memory. With a personal appearance distinguished beyond that of any other operatic artist who has been heard here, an inborn chivalry of deportment that made him a lover after the heart of every woman, and a refinement of musical expression that clarified every rôle he undertook, his _Faust_ was the most finished portrayal of that character in opera that has been heard here. Jean de Reszke's great distinction was that everything he did was in perfect taste. Haven't you seen _Faust_ after _Faust_ keep his hat on while making love to _Marguerite_? Jean de Reszke, a gentleman, removed his before ever he breathed of romance. Muratore is an admirable _Faust_, with all the refinements of phrasing and acting that characterize the best traditions of the Grand Opéra, Paris.

Great tenors do not, as a rule, arrive in quick succession. In this country we have had two distinct tenor eras and now are in a third. We had the era of Italo Campanini, from 1873 until his voice became impaired, about 1880. Not until eleven years later, 1891, did opera in America become so closely associated with another tenor, that there may be said to have begun the era of Jean de Reszke. It lasted until that artist's voluntary retirement. We are now in the era of Enrico Caruso, whose repertoire includes _Faust_ in French.

Christine Nilsson, Adelina Patti, Melba, Eames, Calvé, have been among the famous _Marguerites_ heard here. Nilsson and Eames may have seemed possessed of too much natural reserve for the rôle; but Gounod's librettists made _Marguerite_ more refined than Goethe's _Gretchen_. Patti acted the part with great simplicity and sang it flawlessly. In fact her singing of the ballad "Il était un roi de Thulé" (There once was a king of Thule) was a perfect example of the artistically artless in song. It seemed to come from her lips merely because it chanced to be running through her head. Melba's type of beauty was somewhat mature for the impersonation of the character, but her voice lent itself beautifully to it. Calvé's _Marguerite_ is recalled as a logically developed character from first note to last, and as one of the most original and interesting of _Marguerites_. But Americans insisted on Calvé's doing nothing but _Carmen_. When she sang in "Faust" she appeared to them a _Carmen_ masquerading as _Marguerite_. So back to _Carmen_ she had to go. Sembrich and Farrar are other _Marguerites_ identified with the Metropolitan Opera House.

Plançon unquestionably was the finest _Méphistophélès_ in the history of the opera in America up to the present time--vivid, sonorous, and satanically polished or fantastical, as the rôle demanded.

Gounod's librettists, Michel Carré and Jules Barbier, with a true Gallic gift for practicable stage effect, did not seek to utilize the whole of Goethe's "Faust" for their book, but contented themselves with the love story of _Faust_ and _Marguerite_, which also happens to have been entirely original with the author of the play, since it does not occur in the legends. But because the opera does not deal with the whole of "Faust," Germany, where Gounod's work enjoys great popularity, refuses to accept it under the same title as the play, and calls it "Margarethe" after the heroine.

As reconstructed for the Grand Opéra, where it was brought out ten years after its production at the Théâtre Lyrique, "Faust" develops as follows:

There is a brief prelude. A _ff_ on a single note, then mysterious, chromatic chords, and then the melody which Gounod composed for Santley.

## Act I. _Faust's_ study. The philosopher is discovered alone, seated at

a table on which an open tome lies before him. His lamp flickers in its socket. Night is about turning to dawn.

_Faust_ despairs of solving the riddle of the universe. Aged, his pursuit of science vain, he seizes a flask of poison, pours it into a crystal goblet, and is about to drain it, when, day having dawned, the cheerful song of young women on their way to work arrests him. The song dies away. Again he raises the goblet, only to pause once more, as he hears a chorus of labourers, with whose voices those of the women unite. _Faust_, beside himself at these sounds of joy and youth, curses life and advancing age, and calls upon Satan to aid him.

There is a flash of red light and out of it, up through the floor, rises _Méphistophélès_, garbed as a cavalier, and in vivid red. Alternately suave, satirical, and demoniacal in bearing, he offers to _Faust_ wealth and power. The philosopher, however, wants neither, unless with the gift also is granted youth. "Je veux la jeunesse" (What I long for is youth). That is easy for his tempter, if the aged philosopher, with pen dipped in his blood, will but sign away his soul. _Faust_ hesitates. At a gesture from _Méphistophélès_ the scene at the back opens and discloses _Marguerite_ seated at her spinning-wheel, her long blond braid falling down her back. "Ô Merveille!" (A miracle!) exclaims _Faust_, at once signs the parchment, and drains to the vision of _Marguerite_ a goblet proffered him by _Méphistophélès_. The scene fades away, the philosopher's garb drops off _Faust_. The grey beard and all other marks of old age vanish. He stands revealed a youthful gallant, eager for adventure, instead of the disappointed scholar weary of life. There is an impetuous duet for _Faust_ and _Méphistophélès_: "À moi les plaisirs" ('Tis pleasure I covet). They dash out of the cell-like study in which _Faust_ vainly has devoted himself to science.

## Act II. Outside of one of the city gates. To the left is an inn,

bearing as a sign a carved image of Bacchus astride a keg. It is kermis time. There are students, among them _Wagner_, burghers old and young, soldiers, maidens, and matrons.

The act opens with a chorus. "Faust" has been given so often that this chorus probably is accepted by most people as a commonplace. In point of fact it is an admirable piece of characterization. The groups of people are effectively differentiated in the score. The toothless chatter of the old men (in high falsetto) is an especially amusing detail. In the end the choral groups are deftly united.

_Valentine_ and _Siebel_ join the kermis throng. The former is examining a medallion which his sister, _Marguerite_, has given him as a charm against harm in battle. He sings a cavatina. It is this number which Gounod composed for Santley. As most if not all the performances of "Faust" in America, up to the time Grau introduced the custom of giving opera in the language of the original score, were in Italian, this cavatina is familiarly known as the "Dio possente" (To thee, O Father!). In French it is "À toi, Seigneur et Roi des Cieux" (To Thee, O God, and King of Heaven). Both in the Italian and French, _Valentine_ prays to Heaven to protect his sister during his absence. In English, "Even bravest heart may swell," the number relates chiefly to _Valentine's_ ambitions as a soldier.

_Wagner_ mounts a table and starts the "Song of the Rat." After a few lines he is interrupted by the sudden appearance of _Méphistophélès_, who, after a brief parley, sings "Le veau d'or" (The golden calf), a cynical dissertation on man's worship of mammon. He reads the hands of those about him. To _Siebel_ he prophesies that every flower he touches shall wither. Rejecting the wine proffered him by _Wagner_, he strikes with his sword the sign of the inn, the keg, astride of which sits Bacchus. Like a stream of wine fire flows from the keg into the goblet held under the spout by _Méphistophélès_, who raising the vessel, pledges the health of _Marguerite_.

This angers _Valentine_ and leads to the "Scène des épées" (The scene of the swords). _Valentine_ unsheathes his blade. _Méphistophélès_, with his sword describes a circle about himself. _Valentine_ makes a pass at his foe. As the thrust carries his sword into the magic circle, the blade breaks. He stands in impotent rage, while _Méphistophélès_ mocks him. At last, realizing who his opponent is, _Valentine_ grasps his sword by its broken end, and extends the cruciform hilt toward the red cavalier. The other soldiers follow their leader's example. _Méphistophélès_, no longer mocking, cowers before the cross-shaped sword hilts held toward him, and slinks away. A sonorous chorus, "Puisque tu brises le fer" (Since you have broken the blade) for _Valentine_ and his followers distinguishes this scene.

The crowd gathers for the kermis dance--"the waltz from Faust," familiar the world round, and undulating through the score to the end of the gay scene, which also concludes the act. While the crowd is dancing and singing, _Méphistophélès_ enters with _Faust_. _Marguerite_ approaches. She is on her way from church, prayerbook in hand. _Siebel_ seeks to join her. But every time the youth steps toward her he confronts the grinning yet sinister visage of _Méphistophélès_, who dexterously manages to get in his way. Meanwhile _Faust_ has joined her. There is a brief colloquy. He offers his arm and conduct through the crowd. She modestly declines. The episode, though short, is charmingly melodious. The phrases for _Marguerite_ can be made to express coyness, yet also show that she is not wholly displeased with the attention paid her by the handsome stranger. She goes her way. The dance continues. "Valsons toujours" (Waltz alway!).

## Act III. _Marguerite's_ garden. At the back a wall with a wicket door.

To the left a bower. On the right _Marguerite's_ house, with a bow window facing the audience. Trees, shrubs, flower beds, etc.

_Siebel_ enters by the wicket. Stopping at one of the flower beds and about to pluck a nosegay, he sings the graceful "Faites-lui mes aveux" (Bear my avowal to her). But when he culls a flower, it shrivels in his hand, as _Méphistophélès_ had predicted. The boy is much perturbed. Seeing, however, a little font with holy water suspended by the wall of the house, he dips his fingers in it. Now the flowers no longer shrivel as he culls them. He arranges them in a bouquet, which he lays on the house step, where he hopes _Marguerite_ will see it. He then leaves.

_Faust_ enters with _Méphistophélès_, but bids the latter withdraw, as if he sensed the incongruity of his presence near the home of a maiden so pure as _Marguerite_. The tempter having gone, _Faust_ proceeds to apostrophize _Marguerite's_ dwelling in the exquisite romance, "Salut! demeure chaste et pure."

[Music]

_Méphistophélès_ returns. With him he brings a casket of jewels and a handsome bouquet. With these he replaces _Siebel's_ flowers. The two men then withdraw into a shadowy recess of the garden to await _Marguerite's_ return.

She enters by the wicket. Her thoughts are with the handsome stranger--above her in station, therefore the more flattering and fascinating in her eyes--who addressed her at the kermis. Pensively she seats herself at her spinning-wheel and, while turning it, without much concentration of mind on her work, sings "Le Roi de Thulé," the ballad of the King of Thule, her thoughts, however, returning to _Faust_ before she resumes and finishes the number, which is set in the simple fashion of a folk-song.

Approaching the house, and about to enter, she sees the flowers, stops to admire them, and to bestow a thought of compassion upon _Siebel_ for his unrequited devotion, then sees and hesitatingly opens the casket of jewels. Their appeal to her feminine vanity is too great to permit her to return them at once to the casket. Decking herself out in them, she regards herself and the sparkling gems in the handglass that came with them, then bursts into the brilliant "Air des Bijoux" (Jewel Song):

[Music]

Ah! je ris de me voir Si belle en ce miroir!... Est-ce toi, Marguerite?

(Ah! I laugh just to view-- Marguerite! Is it you?-- Such a belle in the glass!...)

one of the most brilliant airs for coloratura soprano, affording the greatest contrast to the folklike ballad which preceded it, and making with it one of the most effective scenes in opera for a soprano who can rise to its demands: the chaste simplicity required for the ballad, the joyous abandon and faultless execution of elaborate embellishments involved in the "Air des Bijoux." When well done, the

## scene is brilliantly successful; for, added to its own conspicuous

merit, is the fact that, save for the very brief episode in Act II, this is the first time in two and a half acts that the limpid and grateful tones of a solo high soprano have fallen upon the ear.

_Martha_, the neighbour and companion of _Marguerite_, joins her. In the manner of the average duenna, whose chief duty in opera is to encourage love affairs, however fraught with peril to her charge, she is not at all disturbed by the gift of the jewels or by the entrance upon the scene of _Faust_ and _Méphistophélès_. Nor, when the latter tells her that her husband has been killed in the wars, does she hesitate, after a few exclamations of rather forced grief, to seek consolation on the arm of the flatterer in red, who leads her off into the garden, leaving _Faust_ with _Marguerite_. During the scene immediately ensuing the two couples are sometimes in view, sometimes lost to sight in the garden. The music is a quartet, beginning with _Faust's_ "Prenez mon bras un moment" (Pray lean upon mine arm). It is artistically individualized. The couples and each member thereof are deftly characterized in Gounod's score.

For a moment _Méphistophélès_ holds the stage alone. Standing by a bed of flowers in an attitude of benediction, he invokes their subtle perfume to lull _Marguerite_ into a false sense of security. "Il était temps!" (It was the hour), begins the soliloquy. For a moment, as it ends, the flowers glow. _Méphistophélès_ withdraws into the shadows. _Faust_ and _Marguerite_ appear. _Marguerite_ plucks the petals of a flower: "He loves me--he loves me not--he loves!" There are two ravishing duets for the lovers, "Laisse-moi contempler ton visage" (Let me gaze upon thy beauty), and "Ô nuit d'amour ... ciel radieux!"

[Music]

(Oh, night of love! oh, starlit sky!). The music fairly enmeshes the listener in its enchanting measures.

[Music]

_Faust_ and _Marguerite_ part, agreeing to meet on the morrow--"Oui, demain! des l'aurore!" (Yes, tomorrow! at dawn!). She enters the house. _Faust_ turns to leave the garden. He is confronted by _Méphistophélès_, who points to the window. The casement is opened by _Marguerite_, who believes she is alone. Kneeling in the window, she gazes out upon the night flooded with moonlight. "Il m'aime; ... Ah! presse ton retour, cher bien-aimé! Viens!" (He loves me; ah! haste your return, dearly beloved! Come!).

With a cry, _Faust_ rushes to the open casement, sinks upon his knees. _Marguerite_, with an ecstatic exclamation, leans out of the embrasure and allows him to take her into his arms. Her head rests upon his shoulder.

At the wicket is _Méphistophélès_, shaking with laughter.

## Act IV. The first scene in this act takes place in _Marguerite's_

room. No wonder _Méphistophélès_ laughed when he saw her in _Faust's_ arms. She has been betrayed and deserted. The faithful _Siebel_, however, still offers her his love--"Si la bonheur à sourire t'invite" (When all was young and pleasant, May was blooming)--but _Marguerite_ still loves the man who betrayed her, and hopes against hope that he will return.

This episode is followed by the cathedral scene. _Marguerite_ has entered the edifice and knelt to pray. But, invisible to her, _Méphistophélès_ stands beside her and reminds her of her guilt. A chorus of invisible demons calls to her accusingly. _Méphistophélès_ foretells her doom. The "Dies iræ," accompanied on the organ, is heard. _Marguerite's_ voice joins with those of the worshippers. But _Méphistophélès_, when the chant is ended, calls out that for her, a lost one, there yawns the abyss. She flees in terror. This is one of the most significant episodes of the work.

Now comes a scene in the street, in front of _Marguerite's_ house. The soldiers return from war and sing their familiar chorus, "Gloire immortelle" (Glory immortal). _Valentine_, forewarned by _Siebel's_ troubled mien that all is not well with _Marguerite_, goes into the house. _Faust_ and _Méphistophélès_ come upon the scene. Facing the house, and accompanying himself on his guitar, the red gallant sings an offensive serenade. _Valentine_, aroused by the insult, which he correctly interprets as aimed at his sister, rushes out. There is a spirited trio, "Redouble, ô Dieu puissant" (Give double strength, great God on high). _Valentine_ smashes the guitar with his sword, then attacks _Faust_, whose sword-thrust, guided by _Méphistophélès_, mortally wounds _Marguerite's_ brother. _Marguerite_ comes into the street, throws herself over _Valentine's_ body. With his dying breath her brother curses her.

Sometimes the order of the scenes in this act is changed. It may open with the street scene, where the girls at the fountain hold themselves aloof from _Marguerite_. Here the brief meeting between the girl and _Siebel_ takes place. _Marguerite_ then goes into the house; the soldiers return, etc. The act then ends with the cathedral scene.

## Act V. When Gounod revised "Faust" for the Grand Opéra, Paris, the

traditions of that house demanded a more elaborate ballet than the dance in the kermis scene afforded. Consequently the authors reached beyond the love story of _Faust_ and _Marguerite_ into the second part of Goethe's drama and utilized the legendary revels of Walpurgis Night (eve of May 1st) on the Brocken, the highest point of the Hartz mountains. Here _Faust_ meets the courtesans of antiquity--Laïs, Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Phryne. "Les Nubiennes," "Cléopatra et la Coupe d'Or" (Cleopatra and the Goblet of Gold), "Les Troyennes" (The Troyan Women), "Variation," and "Dance de Phryne" are the dances in this ballet. More frequently than not the scene is omitted. To connect it with the main story, there comes to _Faust_, in the midst of the revels, a vision of _Marguerite_. Around her neck he beholds a red line, "like the cut of an axe." He commands _Méphistophélès_ to take him to her.

They find her in prison, condemned to death for killing her child. There is an impassioned duet for _Faust_ and _Marguerite_. He begs her to make her escape with him. But her mind is wandering. In snatches of melody from preceding scenes, she recalls the episode at the kermis, the night in the garden. She sees _Méphistophélès_, senses his identity with the arch-fiend. There is a superb trio, in which _Marguerite_ ecstatically calls upon angels to intervene and save her--"Anges purs! Anges radieux!" (Angels pure, radiant, bright).

[Music]

The voices mount higher and higher, _Marguerite's_ soaring to a splendid climax. She dies.

"Condemned!" cries _Méphistophélès_.

"Saved," chant ethereal voices.

The rear wall of the prison opens. Angels are seen bearing _Marguerite_ heavenward. _Faust_ falls on his knees in prayer. _Méphistophélès_ turns away, "barred by the shining sword of an archangel."

During the ten years that elapsed between the productions at the Théâtre Lyrique and the Grand Opéra, "Faust" had only thirty-seven performances. Within eight years (1887) after it was introduced to the Grand Opéra, it had 1000 performances there. From 1901-1910 it was given nearly 3000 times in Germany. After the score had been declined by several publishers, it was brought out by Choudens, who paid Gounod 10,000 francs ($2000) for it, and made a fortune out of the venture. For the English rights the composer is said to have received only £40 ($200) and then only upon the insistence of Chorley, the author of the English version.

ROMÉO ET JULIETTE

ROMEO AND JULIET

Opera in five acts, by Gounod; words by Barbier and Carré, after the tragedy by Shakespeare. Produced Paris, Théâtre Lyrique, April 27, 1867; January, 1873, taken over by the Opéra Comique; Grand Opéra, November 28, 1888. London, Covent Garden, in Italian, July 11, 1867. New York, Academy of Music, November 15, 1867, with Minnie Hauck as _Juliet_; Metropolitan Opera House, December 14, 1891, with Eames (_Juliet_), Jean de Reszke (_Romeo_), Édouard de Reszke (_Friar Lawrence_). Chicago, December 15, 1916, with Muratore as _Romeo_ and Galli-Curci as _Juliet_.

CHARACTERS

THE DUKE OF VERONA _Bass_ COUNT PARIS _Baritone_ COUNT CAPULET _Bass_ JULIET, his daughter _Soprano_ GERTRUDE, her nurse _Mezzo-Soprano_ TYBALT, Capulet's nephew _Tenor_ ROMEO, a Montague _Tenor_ MERCUTIO _Baritone_ BENVOLIO, Romeo's page _Soprano_ GREGORY, a Capulet retainer _Baritone_ FRIAR LAWRENCE _Bass_

Nobles and ladies of Verona, citizens, soldiers, monks, and pages.

_Time_--14th Century.

_Place_--Verona.

Having gone to Goethe for "Faust," Gounod's librettists, Barbier and Carré, went to Shakespeare for "Roméo et Juliette," which, like "Faust," reached the Paris Grand Opéra by way of the Théâtre Lyrique. Mme. Miolan-Carvalho, the original _Marguerite_, also created _Juliette_.

"Roméo et Juliette" has been esteemed more highly in France than elsewhere. In America, save for performances in New Orleans, it was only during the Grau régime at the Metropolitan Opera House, when it was given in French with casts familiar with the traditions of the Grand Opéra, that it can be said regularly to have held a place in the repertoire. Eames is remembered as a singularly beautiful _Juliette_, vocally and personally; Capoul, Jean de Reszke, and Saléza, as _Roméos_; Édouard de Reszke as _Frère Laurent_.

Nicolini, who became Adelina Patti's second husband, sang _Roméo_ at the Grand Opéra to her _Juliette_. She was then the Marquise de Caux, her marriage to the Marquis having been brought about by the Empress Eugénie. But that this marriage was not to last long, and that the _Romeo_ and _Juliet_ were as much in love with each other in actual life as on the stage, was revealed one night to a Grand Opéra audience, when, during the balcony scene, prima donna and tenor--so the record says--imprinted twenty-nine real kisses on each other's lips.

The libretto is in five acts and follows closely, often even to the text, Shakespeare's tragedy. There is a prologue in which the characters and chorus briefly rehearse the story that is to unfold itself.

## Act I. The grand hall in the palace of the Capulets. A fête is in

progress. The chorus sings gay measures. _Tybalt_ speaks to _Paris_ of _Juliet_, who at that moment appears with her father. _Capulet_ bids the guests welcome and to be of good cheer--"Soyez les bienvenus, amis" (Be ye welcome, friends), and "Allons! jeunes gens! Allons! belles dames!" (Bestir ye, young nobles! And ye, too, fair ladies!).

_Romeo_, _Mercutio_, _Benvolio_, and half-a-dozen followers come masked. Despite the deadly feud between the two houses, they, Montagues, have ventured to come as maskers to the fête of the Capulets. _Mercutio_ sings of Queen Mab, a number as gossamerlike in the opera as the monologue is in the play; hardly ever sung as it should be, because the rôle of _Mercutio_ rarely is assigned to a baritone capable of doing justice to the airy measures of "Mab, la reine des mensonges" (Mab, Queen Mab, the fairies' midwife).

The Montagues withdraw to another part of the palace. _Juliet_ returns with _Gertrude_, her nurse. Full of high spirits, she sings the graceful and animated waltz, "Dans ce rêve, qui m'enivre" [Transcriber's Note: correct title is 'Je veux vivre dans le rêve'] (Fair is the tender dream of youth).

[Music]

The nurse is called away. _Romeo_, wandering in, meets _Juliet_. Their love, as in the play, is instantaneous. _Romeo_ addresses her in passionate accents, "Ange adorable" (Angel! adored one). His addresses, _Juliet's_ replies, make a charming duo.

Upon the re-entry of _Tybalt_, _Romeo_, who had removed his mask, again adjusts it. But _Tybalt_ suspects who he is, and from the utterance of his suspicions, _Juliet_ learns that the handsome youth, to whom her heart has gone out, is none other than _Romeo_, scion of the Montagues, the sworn enemies of her house. The fiery _Tybalt_ is for attacking _Romeo_ and his followers then and there. But old _Capulet_, respecting the laws of hospitality, orders that the fête proceed.

## Act II. The garden of the Capulets. The window of _Juliet's_

apartment, and the balcony, upon which it gives. _Romeo's_ page, _Stephano_, a character introduced by the librettists, holds a ladder by which _Romeo_ ascends to the balcony. _Stephano_ leaves, bearing the ladder with him.

_Romeo_ sings, "Ah! lève-toi, soleil" (Ah! fairest dawn arise). The window opens, _Juliet_ comes out upon the balcony. _Romeo_ conceals himself. From her soliloquy he learns that, although he is a Montague, she loves him. He discloses his presence. The interchange of pledges is exquisite. Lest the sweetness of so much love music become too cloying, the librettists interrupt it with an episode. The Capulet retainer, _Gregory_, and servants of the house, suspecting that an intruder is in the garden, for they have seen _Stephano_ speeding away, search unsuccessfully and depart.

The nurse calls. _Juliet_ re-enters her apartment. _Romeo_ sings, "Ô nuit divine" (Oh, night divine). _Juliet_ again steals out upon the balcony. "Ah! je te l'ai dit, je t'adore!" (Ah, I have told you that I adore you), sings _Romeo_. There is a beautiful duet, "Ah! ne fuis pas encore!" (Ah, do not flee again). A brief farewell. The curtain falls upon the "balcony scene."

## Act III,