Part II

. A street near _Capulet's_ house. _Stephano_, having vainly

sought _Romeo_, and thinking he still may be in concealment in _Capulet's_ garden, sings a ditty likely to rouse the temper of the Capulet household, and bring its retainers into the street, thus affording _Romeo_ a chance to get away. The ditty is "Que fais-tu, blanche tourterelle" (Gentle dove, why art thou clinging?). _Gregory_ and _Stephano_ draw and fight. The scene develops, as in the play. Friends of the two rival houses appear. _Mercutio_ fights _Tybalt_ and is slain, and is avenged by _Romeo_, who kills _Tybalt_, _Juliet's_ kinsman, and, in consequence, is banished from Verona by the _Duke_.

[Illustration: Photo copyright, 1916, by Victor Georg

Galli-Curci as Juliette in "Roméo et Juliette"]

## Act IV. It is the room of _Juliet_, to which _Romeo_ has found access,

in order to bid her farewell, before he goes into exile. The lingering _adieux_, the impassioned accents in which the despair of parting is expressed--these find eloquent utterance in the music. There is the duet, "Nuit d'hyménée, Ô douce nuit d'amour" (Night hymeneal, sweetest night of love). _Romeo_ hears the lark, sure sign of approaching day, but _Juliet_ protests. "Non, non, ce n'est pas le jour" (No, no! 'Tis not yet the day). Yet the parting time cannot be put off longer. _Romeo:_ "Ah! reste! reste encore dans mes bras enlacés" (Ah! rest! rest once more within mine entwining arms); then both, "Il faut

## partir, hélas" (Now we must part, alas).

Hardly has _Romeo_ gone when _Gertrude_ runs in to warn _Juliet_ that her father is approaching with _Friar Lawrence_. _Tybalt's_ dying wish, whispered into old _Capulet's_ ear, was that the marriage between _Juliet_ and the noble whom _Capulet_ has chosen for her husband, _Count Paris_, be speeded. _Juliet's_ father comes to bid her prepare for the marriage. Neither she, the friar, nor the nurse dare tell _Capulet_ of her secret nuptials with _Romeo_. This gives significance to the quartet, "Ne crains rien" (I fear no more). _Capulet_ withdraws, leaving, as he supposes, _Friar Lawrence_ to explain to _Juliet_ the details of the ceremony. It is then the friar, in the dramatic, "Buvez donc ce breuvage" (Drink then of this philtre), gives her the potion, upon drinking which she shall appear as dead.

The scene changes to the grand hall of the palace. Guests arrive for the nuptials. There is occasion for the ballet, so essential for a production at the Grand Opéra. _Juliet_ drains the vial, falls as if dead.

## Act V. The tomb of the Capulets. _Romeo_, having heard in his exile

that his beloved is no more, breaks into the tomb. She, recovering from the effects of the philtre, finds him dying, plunges a dagger into her breast, and expires with him.

In the music there is an effective prelude. _Romeo_, on entering the tomb, sings, "Ô ma femme! ô ma bien aimée" (O wife, dearly beloved). _Juliet_, not yet aware that _Romeo_ has taken poison, and _Romeo_ forgetting for the moment that death's cold hand already is reaching out for him, they sing, "Viens fuyons au bout du monde" (Come, let us fly to the ends of the earth). Then _Romeo_ begins to feel the effect of the poison, and tells _Juliet_ what he has done. "Console-toi, pauvre âme" (Console thyself, sad heart). But _Juliet_ will not live without him, and while he, in his wandering mind, hears the lark, as at their last parting, she stabs herself.

* * * * *

As "Roméo et Juliette" contains much beautiful music, people may wonder why it lags so far behind "Faust" in popularity. One reason is that, in the layout of the libretto the authors deliberately sought to furnish Gounod with another "Faust," and so challenged comparison. Even _Stephano_, a character of their creation, was intended to give the same balance to the cast that _Siebel_ does to that of "Faust." In a performance of Shakespeare's play it is possible to act the scene of

## parting without making it too much the duplication of the balcony

scene, which it appears to be in the opera. The "balcony scene" is an obvious attempt to create another "garden scene." But in "Faust," what would be the too long-drawn-out sweetness of too much love music is overcome, in the most natural manner, by the brilliant "Jewel Song," and by _Méphistophélès's_ sinister invocation of the flowers. In "Roméo et Juliette," on the other hand, the interruption afforded by _Gregory_ and the chorus is too artificial not to be merely disturbing.

It should be said again, however, that French audiences regard the work with far more favour than we do. "In France," says Storck, in his _Opernbuch_, "the work, perhaps not unjustly, is regarded as Gounod's best achievement, and has correspondingly numerous performances."

Ambroise Thomas

MIGNON

Opera in three acts by Ambroise Thomas, words, based on Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister," by Barbier and Carré. Produced, Opéra Comique, Paris, November 17, 1866. London, Drury Lane, July 5, 1870. New York, Academy of Music, November 22, 1871, with Nilsson, Duval (_Filina_), Mlle. Ronconi (_Frederick_) and Capoul; Metropolitan Opera House, October 21, 1883, with Nilsson, Capoul, and Scalchi (_Frederick_).

CHARACTERS

MIGNON, stolen in childhood from an Italian castle _Mezzo-Soprano_ PHILINE, an actress _Soprano_ FRÉDÉRIC, a young nobleman _Buffo Tenor or Contralto_ WILHELM, a student on his travels _Tenor_ LAERTES, an actor _Tenor_ LOTHARIO _Bass_ GIARNO, a gypsy _Bass_ ANTONIO, a servant _Bass_

Townspeople, gypsies, actors and actresses, servants, etc.

_Time_--Late 18th Century.

_Place_--Acts I and II, Germany. Act III, Italy.

Notwithstanding the popularity of two airs in "Mignon"--"Connais-tu le pays?" and the "Polonaise"--the opera is given here but infrequently. It is a work of delicate texture; of charm rather than passion; with a story that is, perhaps, too ingenuous to appeal to the sophisticated audience of the modern opera house. Moreover the "Connais-tu le pays" was at one time done to death here, both by concert singers and amateurs. Italian composers are fortunate in having written music so difficult technically that none but the most accomplished singers can risk it.

The early performances of "Mignon" in this country were in Italian, and were more successful than the later revivals in French, by which time the opera had become somewhat passé. From these early impressions we are accustomed to call _Philine_ by her Italian equivalent of _Filina_. _Frédéric_, since Trebelli appeared in the rôle in London, has become a contralto instead of a buffo tenor part. The "Rondo Gavotte" in Act II, composed for her by Thomas, has since then been a fixture in the score. She appeared in the rôle at the Metropolitan Opera House, December 5, 1883, with Nilsson and Capoul.

## Act I. Courtyard of a German inn. Chorus of townspeople and

travellers. _Lothario_, a wandering minstrel, sings, accompanying himself on his harp, "Fugitif et tremblant" (A lonely wanderer). _Filina_ and _Laertes_, on the way with their troupe to give a theatrical performance in a neighbouring castle, appear on a balcony. _Mignon_ is sleeping on straw in the back of a gypsy cart. _Giarno_, chief of the gypsy band, rouses her. She refuses to dance. He threatens her with a stick. _Lothario_ and _Wilhelm_ protect her. _Mignon_ divides a bouquet of wild flowers between them.

_Laertes_, who has come down from the balcony, engages _Wilhelm_ in conversation. _Filina_ joins them. _Wilhelm_ is greatly impressed with her blonde beauty. He does not protest when _Laertes_ takes from him the wild flowers he has received from _Mignon_ and hands them to _Filina_.

When _Filina_ and _Laertes_ have gone, there is a scene between _Wilhelm_ and _Mignon_. The girl tells him of dim memories of her childhood--the land from which she was abducted. It is at this point she sings "Connais-tu le pays" (Knowest thou the land). _Wilhelm_ decides to purchase her freedom, and enters the inn with _Giarno_ to conclude the negotiations. _Lothario_, who is about to wander on, has been attracted to her, and, before leaving, bids her farewell. They have the charming duet, "Légères hirondelles" (O swallows, lightly gliding). There is a scene for _Filina_ and _Frédéric_, a booby, who is in love with her. _Filina_ is after better game. She is setting her cap for _Wilhelm_. _Lothario_ wishes to take _Mignon_ with him. But _Wilhelm_ fears for her safety with the old man, whose mind sometimes appears to wander. Moreover _Mignon_ ardently desires to remain in the service of _Wilhelm_ who has freed her from bondage to the gypsies, and, when _Wilhelm_ declines to let her go with _Lothario_, is enraptured, until she sees her wild flowers in _Filina's_ hand. For already she is passionately in love with _Wilhelm_, and jealous when _Filina_ invites him to attend the theatricals at the castle. _Wilhelm_ waves adieu to _Filina_, as she drives away. _Lothario_, pensive, remains seated. _Mignon's_ gaze is directed toward _Wilhelm_.

## Act II. _Filina's_ boudoir at the castle. The actress sings of her

pleasure in these elegant surroundings and of _Wilhelm_. _Laertes_ is heard without, singing a madrigal to _Filina_, "Belle, ayez pitié de nous" (Fair one, pity take on us).

He ushers in _Wilhelm_ and _Mignon_, then withdraws. _Mignon_, pretending to fall asleep, watches _Wilhelm_ and _Filina_. While _Wilhelm_ hands to the actress various toilet accessories, they sing a graceful duet, "Je crois entendre les doux compliments" (Pray, let me hear now the sweetest of phrases). Meanwhile _Mignon's_ heart is tormented with jealousy. When _Wilhelm_ and _Filina_ leave the boudoir the girl dons one of _Filina's_ costumes, seats herself at the mirror and puts on rouge and other cosmetics, as she has seen _Filina_ do. In a spirit of abandon she sings a "Styrienne," "Je connais un pauvre enfant" (A gypsy lad I well do know). She then withdraws into an adjoining room. _Frédéric_ enters the boudoir in search of _Filina_. He sings the gavotte, "Me voici dans son boudoir" (Here am I in her boudoir). _Wilhelm_ comes in, in search of _Mignon_. The men meet. There is an exchange of jealous accusations. They are about to fight, when _Mignon_ rushes between them. _Frédéric_ recognizes _Filina's_ costume on her, and goes off laughing. _Wilhelm_, realizing the awkward situation that may arise from the girl's following him about, tells her they must part. "Adieu, Mignon, courage" (Farewell, Mignon, have courage). She bids him a sad farewell. _Filina_ re-enters. Her sarcastic references to _Mignon's_ attire wound the girl to the quick. When _Wilhelm_ leads out the actress on his arm, _Mignon_ exclaims: "That woman! I loathe her!"

The second scene of this act is laid in the castle park. _Mignon_, driven to distraction, is about to throw herself into the lake, when she hears the strains of a harp. _Lothario_, who has wandered into the park, is playing. There is an exchange of affection, almost paternal on his part, almost filial on hers, in their duet, "As-tu souffert? As-tu pleureé?" (Hast thou known sorrow? Hast thou wept?). _Mignon_ hears applause and acclaim from the conservatory for _Filina's_

## acting. In jealous rage she cries out that she wishes the building

might be struck by lightning and destroyed by fire; then runs off and disappears among the trees. _Lothario_ vaguely repeats her words. "'Fire,' she said! Ah, 'fire! fire!'" Through the trees he wanders off in the direction of the conservatory, just as its doors are thrown open and the guests and actors issue forth.

They have been playing "A Midsummer Night's Dream," and _Filina_, flushed with success, sings the brilliant "Polonaise," "Je suis Titania" (Behold Titania, fair and gay). _Mignon_ appears. _Wilhelm_, who has sadly missed her, greets her with so much joy that _Filina_ sends her into the conservatory in search of the wild flowers given to _Wilhelm_ the day before. Soon after _Mignon_ has entered the conservatory it is seen to be in flames. _Lothario_, obedient to her jealous wish, has set it on fire. At the risk of his life _Wilhelm_ rushes into the burning building and reappears with _Mignon's_ fainting form in his arms. He places her on a grassy bank. Her hand still holds a bunch of withered flowers.

## Act III. Gallery in an Italian castle, to which _Wilhelm_ has brought

_Mignon_ and _Lothario_. _Mignon_ has been dangerously ill. A boating chorus is heard from the direction of a lake below. _Lothario_, standing by the door of _Mignon's_ sick-room, sings a lullaby, "De son coeur j'ai calmé la fièvre" (I've soothed the throbbing of her aching heart). _Wilhelm_ tells _Lothario_ that they are in the Cipriani castle, which he intends to buy for _Mignon_. At the name of the castle _Lothario_ is strangely agitated.

_Wilhelm_ has heard _Mignon_ utter his own name in her aberrations during her illness. He sings, "Elle ne croyait pas" (She does not know). When she enters the gallery from her sick-room and looks out on the landscape, she is haunted by memories. There is a duet for _Mignon_ and _Wilhelm_, "Je suis heureuse, l'air m'enivre" (Now I rejoice, life reawakens). _Filina's_ voice is heard outside. The girl is violently agitated. But _Wilhelm_ reassures her.

In the scenes that follow, _Lothario_, his reason restored by being again in familiar surroundings, recognizes in the place his own castle and in _Mignon_ his daughter, whose loss had unsettled his mind and sent him, in minstrel's disguise, wandering in search of her. The opera closes with a trio for _Mignon_, _Wilhelm_, and _Lothario_. In it is heard the refrain of "Connais-tu le pays."

* * * * *

"Hamlet," the words by Barbier and Carré, based on Shakespeare's tragedy, is another opera by Ambroise Thomas. It ranks high in France, where it was produced at the Grand Opéra, March 9, 1868, with Nilsson as _Ophelia_ and Faure in the title rôle; but outside of France it never secured any approach to the popularity that "Mignon" at one time enjoyed. It was produced in London, in Italian, as "Amleto," Covent Garden, June 19, 1869, with Nilsson and Santley. In America, where it was produced in the Academy of Music, March 22, 1872, with Nilsson, Cary, Brignoli, Barré, and Jamet, it has met the fate of practically all operas in which the principal character is a baritone--esteem from musicians, but indifference on the part of the public. It was revived in 1892 for Lasalle, and by the Chicago Opera Company for Ruffo.

The opera contains in Act I, a love duet for _Hamlet_ and _Ophelia_, and the scene between _Hamlet_ and his father's _Ghost_; in Act II, the scene with the players, with a drinking song for _Hamlet_; in Act III, the soliloquy, "To be or not to be," and the scene between _Hamlet_ and the _Queen_; in Act IV, _Ophelia's_ mad scene and suicide by drowning; in Act V, the scene in the graveyard, with a totally different ending to the opera from that to the play. _Hamlet_ voices a touching song to _Ophelia's_ memory; then, stung by the _Ghost's_ reproachful look, stabs the _King_, as whose successor he is proclaimed by the people.

Following is the distribution of voices: _Hamlet_, baritone; _Claudius_, King of Denmark, bass; _Laertes_, Polonius's son, tenor; _Ghost_ of the dead King, bass; _Polonius_, bass; _Gertrude_, Queen of Denmark, Hamlet's mother, mezzo-soprano; and _Ophelia_, Polonius's daughter, soprano.

* * * * *

Ambroise Thomas was born at Metz, August 5, 1811; died at Paris, February 12, 1896. He studied at the Paris Conservatory, where, in 1832, he won the grand prix de Rome. In 1871 he became director of the Conservatory, being considered Auber's immediate successor, although the post was held for a few days by the communist Salvador Daniel, who was killed in battle, May 23d.

Georges Bizet

CARMEN

Opera in four acts by Georges Bizet; words by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy, founded on the novel by Prosper Mérimée. Produced, Opéra Comique, Paris, March 3, 1875, the title rôle being created by Galli-Marié. Her Majesty's Theatre, London, in Italian, June 22, 1878; same theatre, February 5, 1879, in English; same theatre, November 8, 1886, in French, with Galli-Marié. Minnie Hauck, who created _Carmen_, in London, also created the rôle in America, October 23, 1879, at the Academy of Music, New York, with Campanini (_Don José_), Del Puente (_Escamillo_), and Mme. Sinico (_Micaela_). The first New Orleans _Carmen_, January 14, 1881, was Mme. Ambré. Calvé made her New York début as _Carmen_ at the Metropolitan Opera House, December 20, 1893, with Jean de Reszke (_Don José_), and Eames (_Micaela_). Bressler-Gianoli, and afterwards Calvé, sang the rôle at the Manhattan Opera House. Farrar made her first appearance as _Carmen_ at the Metropolitan Opera House, November 19, 1914. Campanini, Jean de Reszke, and Caruso are the most famous _Don Josés_ who have appeared in this country; but the rôle also has been admirably interpreted by Saléza and Dalmorès. No singer has approached Emma Eames as _Micaela_; nor has any interpreter of _Escamillo_ equalled Del Puente, who had the range and quality of voice and buoyancy of

## action which the rôle requires. Galassi, Campanari, Plançon,

and Amato should be mentioned as other interpreters of the rôle.

February 13, 1912, Mary Garden appeared as _Carmen_ at the Metropolitan Opera House, with the Chicago Opera Company.

"Carmen" is an opera of world-wide popularity, and as highly esteemed by musicians as by the public.

CHARACTERS

DON JOSÉ, a corporal of dragoons _Tenor_ ESCAMILLO, a toreador _Baritone_ EL DANCAIRO } smugglers { _Baritone_ EL REMENDADO } { _Tenor_ ZUNIGA, a captain _Bass_ MORALES, an officer _Bass_ MICAELA, a peasant girl _Soprano_ FRASQUITA } gypsies, { _Mezzo-Soprano_ MERCEDES } friends of Carmen { _Mezzo-Soprano_ CARMEN, a cigarette girl and gypsy _Soprano_

Innkeeper, guide, officers, dragoons, boys, cigarette girls, gypsies, smugglers, etc.

_Time_--About 1820.

_Place_--Seville, Spain.

[Illustration: Photo by White

Calvé as Carmen with Sparkes as Frasquita and Braslau as Mercedes]

## Act I. A square in Seville. On the right the gate of a cigarette

factory. At the back, facing the audience, is a practicable bridge from one side of the stage to the other, and reached from the stage by a winding staircase on the right beyond the factory gate. The bridge also is practicable underneath. People from a higher level of the city can cross it and descend by the stairway to the square. Others can pass under it. In front, on the left, is a guard-house. Above it three steps lead to a covered passage. In a rack, close to the door, are the lances of the dragoons of Almanza, with their little red and yellow flags.

_Morales_ and soldiers are near the guard-house. People are coming and going. There is a brisk chorus, "Sur la place" (O'er this square). _Micaela_ comes forward, as if looking for someone.

"And for whom are you looking?" _Morales_ asks of the pretty girl, who shyly has approached the soldiers lounging outside the guard-house.

"I am looking for a corporal," she answers.

"I am one," _Morales_ says, gallantly.

"But not _the_ one. His name is José."

The soldiers, scenting amusement in trying to flirt with a pretty creature, whose innocence is as apparent as her charm, urge her to remain until _Don José_ comes at change of guard. But, saying she will return then, she runs away like a frightened deer, past the cigarette factory, across the square, and down one of the side streets.

A fascinating little march for fifes and trumpets is heard, at first in the distance, then gradually nearer.

The change of guard arrives, preceded by a band of street lads, imitating the step of the dragoons. After the lads come _Captain Zuniga_ and _Corporal José_; then dragoons, armed with lances. The ceremony of changing guard is gone through with, to the accompaniment of a chorus of gamins and grown-up spectators. It is a lively scene.

"It must have been Micaela," says _Don José_, when they tell him of the girl with tresses of fair hair and dress of blue, who was looking for him. "Nor do I mind saying," he adds, "that I love her." And indeed, although there are some sprightly girls in the crowd that have gathered in the square to see the guard changed, he has no eyes for them, but, straddling a chair out in the open, busies himself trying to join the links of a small chain that has come apart.

The bell of the cigarette factory strikes the work hour, and the cigarette girls push their way through the crowd, stopping to make eyes at the soldiers and young men, or lingering to laugh and chat, before passing through the factory gates.

A shout goes up:

"Carmen!"

A girl, dark as a gypsy and lithe as a panther, darts across the bridge and down the steps into the square, the crowd parting and making way for her.

"Love you?" she cries insolently to the men who press around her and ply her with their attentions. "Perhaps tomorrow. Anyhow not today." Then, a dangerous fire kindling in her eyes, she sways slowly to and fro to the rhythm of a "Habanera," singing the while, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle," etc.

"Love is a gypsy boy, 'tis true, He ever was and ever will be free; Love you not me, then I love you, Yet, if I love you, beware of me!"

[Music]

Often she glances toward _José_, often dances so close to him that she almost touches him, and by subtle inflections in her voice seeks to attract his attention. But he seems unaware of her presence. Indeed if, thinking of _Micaela_, he has steeled himself against the gypsy, in whose every glance, step, and song lurks peril, the handsome dragoon could not be busying himself more obstinately with the broken chain in his hand.

"Yet, if I love you, beware of me!"

Tearing from her bodice a blood-red cassia flower, she flings it at him point blank. He springs to his feet, as if he would rush at her. But he meets her look, and stops where he stands. Then, with a toss of the head and a mocking laugh, she runs into the factory, followed by the other girls, while the crowd, having had its sport, disperses.

The librettists have constructed an admirable scene. The composer has taken full advantage of it. The "Habanera" establishes _Carmen_ in the minds of the audience--the gypsy girl, passionate yet fickle, quick to love and quick to tire. Hers the dash of fatalism that flirts with death.

At _José's_ feet lies the cassia flower thrown by _Carmen_, the glance of whose dark eyes had checked him. Hesitatingly, yet as if in spite of himself, he stoops and picks it up, presses it to his nostrils and draws in its subtle perfume in a long breath. Then, still as if involuntarily, or as if a magic spell lies in its odour, he thrusts the flower under his blouse and over his heart.

He no more than has concealed it there, when _Micaela_ again enters the square and hurries to him with joyful exclamations. She brings him tidings from home, and some money from his mother's savings, with which to eke out his small pay. They have a charming duet, "Ma mère, je la vois, je revois mon village" (My home in yonder valley, my mother, lov'd, again I'll see).

It is evident that _Micaela's_ coming gives him a welcome change of thought, and that, although she cannot remain long, her sweet, pure presence has for the time being lifted the spell the gypsy has cast over him. For, when _Micaela_ has gone, _José_ grasps the flower under his blouse, evidently intending to draw it out and cast it away.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by A. Dupont

Caruso as Don José in "Carmen"]

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Mishkin

Caruso as Don José in "Carmen"]

Just then, however, there are cries of terror from the cigarette factory and, in a moment, the square is filled with screaming girls, soldiers, and others. From the excited utterances of the cigarette girls it is learned that there has been a quarrel between _Carmen_ and another girl, and that _Carmen_ has wounded the latter with a knife. _Zuniga_ promptly orders _José_ to take two dragoons with him into the factory and arrest her. None abashed, and smirking, she comes out with them. When the captain begins questioning her, she answers with a gay "Tra la la, tra la la," pitching her voice on a higher note after each question with an indescribable effect of mockery, that makes her dark beauty the more fascinating.

Losing patience, the officer orders her hands tied behind her back, while he makes out the warrant for her imprisonment. The soldiers having driven away the crowd, _Don José_ is left to guard _Carmen_.

Pacing up and down the square, he appears to be avoiding her. But she, as if speaking to herself, or thinking aloud, and casting furtive glances at him, tells of a handsome young dragoon with whom she has fallen in love.

"He is not a captain, nor even a lieutenant--only a corporal. But he will do what I ask--because he is in love with me!"

"I?--I love you?" _José_ pauses beside her.

With a coquettish toss of the head and a significant glance she asks, "Where is the flower I threw at you? What have you done with it?" Then, softly, she sings another, alluring melody in typical Spanish dance measure, a "Seguidilla," "Près des remparts de Séville."

"Near by the ramparts of Seville, Is the inn of my friend, Lillas Pastia, There I'll dance the gay Seguidilla-- And the dance with my lover I'll share."

[Music]

"Carmen!" cries _José_, "you have bewitched me...."

"Near by the ramparts of Seville.... And the dance with my lover I'll share!" she murmurs insinuatingly, and at the same time she holds back her bound wrists toward him. Quickly he undoes the knot, but leaves the rope about her wrists so that she still appears to be a captive, when the captain comes from the guard-house with the warrant. He is followed by the soldiers, and the crowd, drawn by curiosity to see _Carmen_ led off to prison, again fills the square.

_José_ places her between two dragoons, and the party starts for the bridge. When they reach the steps, _Carmen_ quickly draws her hands free of the rope, shoves the soldiers aside, and, before they know what has happened, dashes up to the bridge and across it, tossing the rope down into the square as she disappears from sight, while the crowd, hindering pursuit by blocking the steps, jeers at the discomfited soldiers.

## Act II. The tavern of Lillas Pastia. Benches right and left. Towards

the end of a dinner. The table is in confusion.

_Frasquita_, _Mercedes_, and _Morales_ are with _Carmen_; also other officers, gypsies, etc. The officers are smoking. Two gypsies in a corner play the guitar and two others dance. _Carmen_ looks at them. _Morales_ speaks to her; she does not listen to him, but suddenly rises and sings, "Les tringles des sistres tintaient" (Ah, when of gay guitars the sound).

_Frasquita_ and _Mercedes_ join in the "Tra la la la" of the refrain. While Carmen clicks the castanets, the dance, in which she and others have joined the two gypsies, becomes more rapid and violent. With the last notes _Carmen_ drops on a seat.

The refrain, "Tra la la la," with its rising inflection, is a most characteristic and effective bit.

[Music]

There are shouts outside, "Long live the torero! Long live Escamillo!" The famous bullfighter, the victor of the bull ring at Granada, is approaching. He sings the famous "Couplets du Toréador," a rousing song with refrain and chorus. "Votre toast je peux vous le rendre" (To your toast I drink with pleasure) begins the number. The refrain, with chorus, is "Toréador, en garde" (Toreador, e'er watchful be).

[Music]

_Escamillo's_ debonair manner, his glittering uniform, his reputation for prowess, make him a brilliant and striking figure. He is much struck with _Carmen_. She is impressed by him. But her fancy still is for the handsome dragoon, who has been under arrest since he allowed her to escape, and only that day has been freed. The _Toreador_, followed by the crowd, which includes _Morales_, departs.

It is late. The tavern keeper closes the shutters and leaves the room. _Carmen_, _Frasquita_, and _Mercedes_ are quickly joined by the smugglers, _El Dancairo_ and _El Remendado_. The men need the aid of the three girls in wheedling the coast-guard, and possibly others, into neglect of duty. Their sentiments, "En matière de tromperie," etc. [Transcriber's Note: Correct lyrics are 'Quand il s'agit de tromperie'] (When it comes to a matter of cheating ... let women in on the deal), are expressed in a quintet that is full of spontaneous merriment--in fact, nowhere in "Carmen," not even in the most dramatic passages, is the music forced.

The men want the girls to depart with them at once. _Carmen_ wishes to await _José_. The men suggest that she win him over to become one of their band. Not a bad idea, she thinks. They leave it to her to carry out the plan.

Even now _José_ is heard singing, as he approaches the tavern, "Halte là! Qui va là? Dragon d'Alcala!" (Halt there! Who goes there? Dragoon of Alcala!). He comes in. Soon she has made him jealous by telling him that she was obliged to dance for _Morales_ and the officers. But now she will dance for him.

She begins to dance. His eyes are fastened on her. From the distant barracks a bugle call is heard. It is the "retreat," the summons to quarters. The dance, the bugle call, which comes nearer, passes by and into the distance, the lithe, swaying figure, the wholly obsessed look of _José_--these are details of a remarkably effective scene. _José_ starts to obey the summons to quarters. _Carmen_ taunts him with placing duty above his love for her. He draws from his breast the flower she gave him, and, showing it to her in proof of his passion, sings the pathetic air, "La fleur que tu m'avais jetée" (The flower that once to me you gave).

[Music]

Despite her lure, he hesitates to become a deserter and follow her to the mountains. But at that moment _Morales_, thinking to find _Carmen_ alone, bursts open the tavern door. There is an angry scene between _Morales_ and _José_. They draw their sabres. The whole band of smugglers comes in at _Carmen's_ call. _El Dancairo_ and _El Remandado_ cover _Morales_ with their pistols, and lead him off.

"And you? Will you now come with us?" asks _Carmen_ of _Don José_.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Calvé as Carmen]

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Mishkin

Amato as Escamillo in "Carmen"]

He, a corporal who has drawn his sabre against an officer, an act of insubordination for which severe punishment awaits him, is ready now to follow his temptress to the mountains.

## Act III. A rocky and picturesque spot among rocks on a mountain. At

the rising of the curtain there is complete solitude. After a few moments a smuggler appears on the summit of a rock, then two, then the whole band, descending and scrambling down the mass of rocks. Among them are _Carmen_, _Don José_, _El Dancairo_, _El Remendado_, _Frasquita_, and _Mercedes_.

The opening chorus has a peculiarly attractive lilt.

_Don José_ is unhappy. _Carmen's_ absorbing passion for him has been of brief duration. A creature of impulse, she is fickle and wayward. _Don José_, a soldier bred, but now a deserter, is ill at ease among the smugglers, and finds cause to reproach himself for sacrificing everything to a fierce and capricious beauty, in whose veins courses the blood of a lawless race. Yet he still loves her to distraction, and is insanely jealous of her. She gives him ample cause for jealousy. It is quite apparent that the impression made upon her by _Escamillo_, the dashing toreador and victor in many bullfights, is deepening. _Escamillo_ has been caught in the lure of her dangerous beauty, but he doesn't annoy her by sulking in her presence, like _Don José_, but goes on adding to his laurels by winning fresh victories in the bull ring.

Now that _Don José_ is more than usually morose, she says, with a sarcastic inflection in her voice:

"If you don't like our mode of life here, why don't you leave?"

"And go far from you! Carmen! If you say that again, it will be your death!" He half draws his knife from his belt.

With a shrug of her shoulders _Carmen_ replies: "What matter--I shall die as fate wills." And, indeed, she plays with fate as with men's hearts. For whatever else this gypsy may be, she is fearless.

While _Don José_ wanders moodily about the camp, she joins _Frasquita_ and _Mercedes_, who are telling their fortunes by cards. The superstitious creatures are merry because the cards favour them. _Carmen_ takes the pack and draws.

"Spades!--A grave!" she mutters darkly, and for a moment it seems as if she is drawing back from a shadow that has crossed her path. But the bravado of the fatalist does not long desert her.

"What matters it?" she calls to the two girls. "If you are to die, try the cards a hundred times, they will fall the same--spades, a grave!" Then, glancing in the direction where _Don José_ stood, she adds, in a low voice, "First I, then he!"

The "Card Trio," "Mêlons! Coupons!" (Shuffle! Throw!) is a brilliant passage of the score, broken in upon by _Carmen's_ fatalistic soliloquy.

A moment later, when the leader of the smugglers announces that it is an opportune time to attempt to convey their contraband through the mountain pass, she is all on the alert and aids in making ready for the departure. _Don José_ is posted behind a screen of rocks above the camp, to guard against a surprise from the rear, while the smugglers make their way through the pass.

Unseen by him, a guide comes out on the rocks, and, making a gesture in the direction of the camp, hastily withdraws. Into this wild passage of nature, where desperate characters but a few moments before were encamped, and where _Carmen_ had darkly hinted at fate, as foretold by the stars, there descends _Micaela_, the emblem of sweetness and purity in this tragedy of the passions. She is seeking _Don José_, in hopes of reclaiming him. Her romance, "Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante" (I try not to own that I tremble), is characterized by Mr. Upton as "the most effective and beautiful number in the whole work." The introduction for horns is an exquisite passage, and the expectations it awakens are fully met by the melodious measures of the romance.

[Music]

Having looked about her, and failing to find _Don José_, she withdraws. Meanwhile _Don José_, from the place where he stands guard, has caught sight of a man approaching the camp. A shot rings out. It is _Don José_ who has fired at the man coming up the defile. He is about to fire again, but the nonchalant manner in which the stranger comes on, and, waving his hat, calls out, "An inch lower and it would have been all over with me!" causes him to lower his gun and advance to meet him.

"I am Escamillo and I am here to see Carmen," he says gaily. "She had a lover here, a dragoon, who deserted from his troop for her. She adored him, but that, I understand, is all over with now. The loves of Carmen never last long."

"Slowly, my friend," replies _Don José_. "Before any one can take our gypsy girls away, he must pay the price."

"So, so. And what is it?"

"It is paid with the knife," grimly answers _José_, as he draws his blade.

"Ah," laughs the _Toreador_, "then you are the dragoon of whom Carmen has wearied. I am in luck to have met you so soon."

He, too, draws. The knives clash, as the men, the one a soldier, the other a bullfighter, skilfully thrust and parry. But _Don José's_ is the better weapon, for, as he catches one of _Escamillo's_ thrusts on his blade, the _Toreador's_ knife snaps short. It would be a fatal mishap for _Escamillo_, did not at that moment the gypsies and smugglers, recalled by the shot, hurry in and separate the combatants. Unruffled by his misadventure, especially as his ardent glances meet an answering gleam in _Carmen's_ eyes, the _Toreador_ invites the entire band to the coming bullfight in Seville, in which he is to figure. With a glad shout they assent.

"Don't be angry, dragoon," he adds tauntingly. "We may meet again."

For answer _Don José_ seeks to rush at him, but some of the smugglers hold him back, while the _Toreador_ leisurely goes his way.

The smugglers make ready to depart again. One of them, however, spies _Micaela_. She is led down. _Don José_ is reluctant to comply with her pleas to go away with her. The fact that _Carmen_ urges him to do what the girl says only arouses his jealousy. But when at last _Micaela_ tells him that his mother is dying of a broken heart for him, he makes ready to go.

In the distance _Escamillo_ is heard singing:

"Toreador, on guard e'er be! Thou shalt read, in her dark eyes, Hopes of victory. Her love is the prize!"

_Carmen_ listens, as if enraptured, and starts to run after him. _Don José_ with bared knife bars the way; then leaves with _Micaela_.

## Act IV. A square in Seville. At the back the entrance to the arena. It

is the day of the bullfight. The square is animated. Watersellers, others with oranges, fans, and other articles. Chorus. Ballet.

Gay the crowd that fills the square outside the arena where the bullfights are held. It cheers the first strains of music heard as the festival procession approaches, and it shouts and applauds as the various divisions go by and pass into the arena: "The Aguacil on horseback!"--"The chulos with their pretty little flags!"--"Look! The bandilleros, all clad in green and spangles, and waving the crimson cloths!"--"The picadors with the pointed lances!"--"The cuadrilla of toreros!"--"Now! Vivo, vivo! Escamillo!" And a great shout goes up, as the _Toreador_ enters, with _Carmen_ on his arm.

There is a brief but beautiful duet for _Escamillo_ and _Carmen_, "Si tu m'aimes, Carmen" (If you love me, Carmen), before he goes into the building to make ready for the bullfight, while she waits to be joined by some of the smugglers and gypsies, whom _Escamillo_ has invited to be witnesses, with her, of his prowess.

As the Alcalde crosses the square and enters the arena, and the crowd pours in after him, one of the gypsy girls from the smugglers' band whispers to _Carmen_:

"If you value your life, Carmen, don't stay here. He is lurking in the crowd and watching you."

"He?--José?--I am no coward.--I fear no one.--If he is here, we will have it over with now," she answers, defiantly, motioning to the girl to pass on into the arena into which the square is rapidly emptying itself. _Carmen_ lingers until she is the only one left, then, with a shrug of contempt, turns to enter--but finds herself facing _Don José_, who has slunk out from one of the side streets to intercept her.

"I was told you were here. I was even warned to leave here, because my life was in danger. If the hour has come, well, so be it. But, live or die, yours I shall never be again."

Her speech is abrupt, rapid, but there is no tremor of fear in her voice.

_Don José_ is pale and haggard. His eyes are hollow, but they glow with a dangerous light. His plight has passed from the pitiable to the desperate stage.

"Carmen," he says hoarsely, "leave with me. Begin life over again with me under another sky. I will adore you so, it will make you love me."

"You never can make me love you again. No one can _make_ me do anything. Free I was born, free I die."

The band in the arena strikes up a fanfare. There are loud vivos for _Escamillo_. _Carmen_ starts to rush for the entrance. Driven to the fury of despair, his knife drawn, as it had been when he barred her way in the smugglers' camp, _Don José_ confronts her. He laughs grimly.

"The man for whom they are shouting--he is the one for whom you have deserted me!"

"Let me pass!" is her defiant answer.

"That you may tell him how you have spurned me, and laugh with him over my misery!"

Again the crowd in the arena shouts: "Victory! Victory! Vivo, vivo, Escamillo, the toreador of Granada!"

A cry of triumph escapes _Carmen_.

"You love him!" hisses _Don José_.

"Yes, I love him! If I must die for it, I love him! Victory for Escamillo, victory! I go to the victor of the arena!"

She makes a dash for the entrance. Somehow she manages to get past the desperate man who has stood between her and the gates. She reaches the steps, her foot already touches the landing above them, when he overtakes her, and madly plunges his knife into her back. With a shriek heard above the shouts of the crowd within, she staggers, falls, and rolls lifeless down the steps into the square.

The doors of the arena swing open. Acclaiming the prowess of _Escamillo_, out pours the crowd, suddenly to halt, hushed and horror-stricken, at the body of a woman dead at the foot of the steps.

"I am your prisoner," says _Don José_ to an officer. "I killed her." Then, throwing himself over the body, he cries:

"Carmen!--Carmen! I love you!--Speak to me!--I adore you!"

* * * * *

At its production at the Opéra Comique, "Carmen" was a failure. In view of the world-wide popularity the work was to achieve, that failure has become historic. It had, however, one lamentable result. Bizet, utterly depressed and discouraged, died exactly three months after the production, and before he could have had so much as an inkling of the success "Carmen" was to obtain. It was not until four months after his death that the opera, produced in Vienna, celebrated its first triumph. Then came Brussels, London, New York. At last, in 1883, "Carmen" was brought back to Paris for what Pierre Berton calls "the brilliant reparation." But Bizet, mortally wounded in his pride as an artist, had died disconsolate. The "reparation" was to the public, not to him.

Whoever will take the trouble to read extracts from the reviews in the Paris press of the first performance of "Carmen" will find that the score of this opera, so full of well-rounded, individual, and distinctive melodies--ensemble, concerted, and solo--was considered too Wagnerian. More than one trace of this curious attitude toward an opera, in which the melodies, or tunes, if you choose so to call them, crowd upon each other almost as closely as in "Il Trovatore," and certainly are as numerous as in "Aïda," still can be found in the article on "Carmen" in the _Dictionnaire des Opéras_, one of the most unsatisfactory essays in that work. Nor, speaking with the authority of Berton, who saw the second performance, was the failure due to defects in the cast. He speaks of Galli-Marié (_Carmen_), Chapuis (_Micaela_), Lherie (_Don José_), and Bouhy (_Escamillo_), as "equal to their tasks ... an admirable quartet."

America has had its _Carmen_ periods. Minnie Hauck established an individuality in the rôle, which remained potent until the appearance in this country of Calvé. When Grau wanted to fill the house, all he had to do was to announce Calvé as _Carmen_. She so dominated the character with her beauty, charm, _diablerie_, and vocal art that, after she left the Metropolitan Opera House, it became impossible to revive the opera there with success, until Farrar made her appearance in it, November 19, 1914, with Alda as _Micaela_, Caruso as _Don José_, and Amato as _Escamillo_.

A season or two before Oscar Hammerstein gave "Carmen" at the Manhattan Opera House, a French company, which was on its last legs when it struck New York, appeared in a performance of "Carmen" at the Casino, and the next day went into bankruptcy. The _Carmen_ was Bressler-Gianoli. Her interpretation brought out the coarse fibre in the character, and was so much the opposite of Calvé's, that it was interesting by contrast. It seemed that had the company been able to survive, "Carmen" could have been featured in its repertoire, by reason of Bressler-Gianoli's grasp of the character as Mérimée had drawn it in his novel, where _Carmen_ is of a much coarser personality than in the opera. The day after the performance I went to see Heinrich Conried, then director of the Metropolitan Opera House, and told him of the impression she had made, but he did not engage her. The _Carmen_ of Bressler-Gianoli (with Dalmorès, Trentini, Ancona, and Gilibert) was one of the principal successes of the Manhattan Opera House. It was first given December 14, 1906, and scored the record for the season with nineteen performances, "Aïda" coming next with twelve, and "Rigoletto" with eleven.

Mary Garden's _Carmen_ is distinctive and highly individualized on the

## acting side. It lacks however the lusciousness of voice, the vocal

lure, that a singer must lavish upon the rôle to make it a complete success.

One of the curiosities of opera in America was the appearance at the Metropolitan Opera House, November 25, 1885, of Lilli Lehmann as _Carmen_.

A word is due Bizet's authors for the admirable libretto they have made from Mérimée's novel. The character of _Carmen_ is, of course, the creation of the novelist. But in his book the _Toreador_ is not introduced until almost the very end, and is but one of a succession of lovers whom _Carmen_ has had since she ensnared _Don José_. In the opera the _Toreador_ is made a principal character, and figures prominently from the second act on. _Micaela_, so essential for contrast in the opera, both as regards plot and music, is a creation of the librettists. But their master-stroke is the placing of the scene of the murder just outside the arena where the bullfight is in progress, and in having _Carmen_ killed by _Don José_ at the moment _Escamillo_ is acclaimed victor by the crowd within. In the book he slays her on a lonely road outside the city of Cordova the day after the bullfight.

LES PÊCHEURS DE PERLES

THE PEARL FISHERS

Besides "Carmen," Bizet was the composer of "Les Pêcheurs de Perles" (The Pearl Fishers) and "Djamileh."

"Les Pêcheurs de Perles," the words by Carré and Cormon, is in three acts. It was produced at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, September 29, 1863. London saw it under the title of "Leila," April 22, 1887, at Covent Garden; as "Pescatori di Perle," May 18, 1899. The New York production was at the Metropolitan Opera House, January 11, 1896, with Calvé; and November 13, 1916, with Caruso. The scene is Ceylon, the period barbaric.

The first act shows a company of pearl fishers on the coast. They choose _Zurga_ as chief. He and his friend _Nadir_, in the duet, "Au fond du temple saint" (In the depths of the temple), recall their former rivalry for the hand of the beautiful priestess, _Leila_, and how they swore never to see her again.

Now approaches a veiled priestess who comes annually to pray for the success of the pearl fishers. She prays to Brahma. _Nadir_ recognizes _Leila_. His love for her at once revives. She goes into the temple. He sings "Je crois entendre encore" (I hear as in a dream). When she returns and again invokes the aid of Brahma, she manages to convey to _Nadir_ the knowledge that she has recognized and still loves him.

In the second act, in a ruined temple, the high priest, _Nourabad_, warns her, on pain of death, to be faithful to her religious vows. _Leila_ tells him he need have no fear. She never breaks a promise. The necklace she wears was given her by a fugitive, whose hiding place she refused to reveal, although the daggers of his pursuers were pointed at her heart. She had promised not to betray him. Her solo, "Comme autrefois," etc. (A fugitive one day), is followed by the retirement of the priest, and the entrance of _Nadir_. There is an impassioned love duet, the effect of which is heightened by a raging storm without: "Ton coeur n'a pas compris" (You have not understood). _Nourabad_, returning unexpectedly, overhears the lovers, and summons the people. _Zurga_, as chief and judge, desires to be merciful for the sake of his friend. But _Nourabad_ tears the veil from _Leila_. It is the woman _Nadir_ has sworn never to see--the woman _Zurga_ also loves. Enraged, he passes sentence of death upon them.

In the third act, the camp of _Zurga_, _Leila_ expresses her willingness to die, but pleads for _Nadir_, "Pour moi je ne crains rien" (I have no fear). _Zurga_ is implacable, until he recognizes the necklace she wears as one he had given many years before to the girl who refused when he was a fugitive to deliver him up to his enemies. The scene changes to the place of execution, where has been erected a funeral pyre. Just as the guilty lovers are to be led to their death, a distant glow is seen. _Zurga_ cries out that the camp is on fire. The people rush away to fight the flames. _Zurga_ tells _Leila_ and _Nadir_ that he set fire to the camp. He then unfastens their chains and bids them flee. Terzet: "Ô lumière sainte" (O sacred light).

From a hiding place _Nourabad_ has witnessed the scene. When the people return, he denounces _Zurga's_ act in setting fire to the camp and permitting _Leila_ and _Nadir_ to escape. _Zurga_ is compelled to mount the pyre. A deep glow indicates that the forest is ablaze. The people prostrate themselves to Brahma, whose wrath they fear.

_Leila_ is for soprano, _Nadir_ tenor, _Zurga_ baritone, _Nourabad_ bass.

In the performance with Calvé only two acts were given. The rest of the program consisted of "La Navarraise," by Massenet.

DJAMILEH

"Djamileh," produced at the Opéra Comique, is in one act, words by Louis Gallet, based on Alfred de Musset's poem, "Namouna." The scene is Cairo, the time mediæval.

_Djamileh_, a beautiful slave, is in love with her master, _Prince Haroun_, a Turkish nobleman, who is tired of her and is about to sell her. She persuades his secretary, _Splendiano_, who is in love with her, to aid her in regaining her master's affections. She will marry _Splendiano_ if she fails.

Accordingly, with the secretary's aid, when the slave dealer arrives, she is, in disguise, among the slaves offered to _Haroun_. She dances. _Haroun_ is entranced, and immediately buys her. When she discloses her identity, and pleads that her ruse was prompted by her love for him, he receives her back into his affections.

_Djamileh_ is for mezzo-soprano, the men's rôles for tenor. Besides the dance, there are a duet for the men, "Que l'esclave soit brune ou blonde" (Let the slave be dark or fair); a trio, "Je voyais au loin la mer s'étendre" (The distant sea have I beheld extending); and the chorus, "Quelle est cette belle" (Who is the charmer).

Italian Opera Since Verdi

Chief among Italian opera composers of the present day are Puccini, Mascagni, and Leoncavallo. Others are Giordano, Wolf-Ferrari, Zandonai, Montemezzi, and Leoni.

Modern Italian opera differs from Italian opera, old style, largely through the devotion of the moderns to effects of realism--the Italian _verismo_, of which we hear so much. These effects of realism are produced largely by an orchestral accompaniment that constantly adapts itself descriptively to what is said and done on the stage. At not infrequent intervals, however, when a strongly emotional situation demands sustained expression, the restless play of orchestral depiction and the brief exchange of vocal phrases merge into eloquent melody for voice with significant instrumental accompaniment. Thus beautiful vocal melody, fluently sung, remains, in spite of all tendency toward the much vaunted effect of _verismo_, the heart and soul, as ever, of Italian opera.

Much difference, however, exists between the character of the melody in the modern and the old Italian opera. Speaking, of course, in general terms, the old style Italian operatic melody is sharply defined in outline and rhythm, whereas the melody of modern Italian opera, resting upon a more complicated accompaniment, is subject in a much greater degree to rhythmic and harmonic changes. Since, however, that is little more than saying that the later style of Italian opera is more modern than the older, I will add, what seems to me the most characteristic difference in their idioms. Italian melody, old style, derives much of its character from the dotted note, with the necessarily marked acceleration of the next note, as, for example, in "Ah! non giunge" ("La Sonnambula"), an air which is typical of the melodious measures of Italian opera of the first sixty or seventy years of the last century; and that, too, whether the emotion to be expressed is ecstasy, as in "Ah! non giunge," above; grief, as in _Edgardo's_ last aria in "Lucia di Lammermoor,"--"Tu che a Dio spiegasti l'ali" (Thou has [Transcriber's Note: should be 'hast'] spread thy wings to Heaven), the spirit of festive greeting as in the chorus from the previous act of the same opera, or passionate love as in _Elvira's_ and _Ernani's_ duet; "Ah morir potessi adesso."

It does not occur as frequently in Rossini as in Bellini and Donizetti, while Verdi, as he approaches his ripest period, discards it with growing frequency. I am also aware that the dotted note is found in abundance in the music of all civilized countries. Nevertheless it is from its prominence in the melodic phrase, the impetus imparted by it, and the sharp reiterated rhythmic beat which it usually calls for, that Italian melody of the last century, up to about 1870, derives much of its energy, swing, and passion. It is, in fact, idiomatic.

Wholly different is the idiom of modern Italian music. It consists of the sudden stressing of the melody at a vital point by means of the triolet--the triplet, as we call it. An excellent example is the love motif for _Nedda_ in "I Pagliacci," by Leoncavallo.

[Music]

If the dotted note is peculiarly adapted to the careless rapture with which the earlier Italian composers lavished melody after melody upon their scores, the triolet suits the more laboured efforts of the modern Italian muse.

Another effect typical of modern Italian opera is the use of the foreign note--that is, the sudden employment of a note strange to the key of the composition. This probably is done for the sake of giving piquancy to a melody that otherwise might be considered commonplace. _Turiddu's_ drinking song in "Cavalleria Rusticana" is a good example.

[Music]

In orderly harmonic progression the first tone in the bass of the second bar would be F-sharp, instead of F-natural, which is a note foreign to the key. This example is quoted in Ferdinand Pfohl's _Modern Opera_, in which he says of the triolet and its use in the opera of modern Italy, that its peculiarly energetic sweep, powerful suspense, and quickening, fiery heart-beat lend themselves amazingly to the art of _verismo_.

Pietro Mascagni

(1863- )

Pietro Mascagni was born in Leghorn, Italy, December 7, 1863. His father was a baker. The elder Mascagni, ambitious for his boy, wanted him to study law. The son himself preferred music, and studied surreptitiously. An uncle, who sympathized with his aims, helped him financially. After the uncle's death a nobleman, Count Florestan, sent him to the Milan Conservatory. There he came under the instruction and influence of Ponchielli.

After two years' study at the conservatory he began a wandering life, officiating for the next five years as conductor of opera companies, most of which disbanded unexpectedly and impecuniously. He eked out a meagre income, being compelled at one time to subsist on a plate of macaroni a day. His finances were not greatly improved when he settled in Cerignola, where he directed a school for orchestra players and taught pianoforte and theory.

He was married and in most straitened circumstances when he composed "Cavalleria Rusticana" and sent it off to the publisher Sonzogno, who had offered a prize for a one-act opera. It received the award.

May 17, 1890, at the Constanzi Theatre, Rome, it had its first performance. Before the representation had progressed very far, the half-filled house was in a state of excitement and enthusiasm bordering on hysteria. The production of "Cavalleria Rusticana" remains one of the sensational events in the history of opera. It made Mascagni famous in a night. Everywhere it was given--and it was given everywhere--it made the same sensational success. Its vogue was so great, it "took" so rapidly, that it was said to have infected the public with "Mascagnitis."

In "'Cavalleria Rusticana' music and text work in wonderful harmony in the swift and gloomy tragedy." Nothing Mascagni has composed since has come within hailing distance of it. The list of his operas is a fairly long one. Most of them have been complete failures. In America, "Iris" has, since its production, been the subject of occasional revival. "Lodoletta," brought out by Gatti-Casazza at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1918, had the advantage of a cast that included Caruso and Farrar. "Isabeau" had its first performance in the United States of America, in Chicago by the Chicago Opera Company under the direction of Cleofante Campanini in 1917, and was given by the same organization in New York in 1918. (See p. 625.)

With Mascagni's opera, "Le Maschere" (The Maskers), which was produced in 1901, the curious experiment was made of having the first night occur simultaneously in six Italian cities. It was a failure in all, save Rome, where it survived for a short time.

Of the unfortunate results of Mascagni's American visit in 1902 not much need be said. A "scratch" company was gotten together for him. With this he gave poor performances at the Metropolitan Opera House, of "Cavalleria Rusticana," "Zanetto," and "Iris." The tour ended in lawsuits and failure. "Zanetto," which is orchestrated only for string band and a harp, was brought out with "Cavalleria Rusticana" in a double bill, October 8, 1902; "Iris," October 16th.

CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA

RUSTIC CHIVALRY

Opera, in one act, by Mascagni; words by Giovanni Targioni-Toggetti and G. Menasci, the libretto being founded on a story by Giovanni Verga. Produced, Constanzi Theatre, Rome, May 17, 1890. London, Shaftesbury Theatre, October 19, 1891. Covent Garden, May 16, 1892. America: Philadelphia, Grand Opera House, September 9, 1891, under the direction of Gustav Hinrichs, with Selma Kronold (_Santuzza_), Miss Campbell (_Lola_), Jeannie Teal (_Lucia_), Guille (_Turiddu_), Del Puente (_Alfio_). Chicago, September 30, 1891, with Minnie Hauck as _Santuzza_. New York, October 1, 1891, at an afternoon "dress rehearsal" at the Casino, under the direction of Rudolph Aronson, with Laura Bellini (_Santuzza_), Grace Golden (_Lola_), Helen von Doenhof (_Lucia_), Charles Bassett (_Turiddu_), William Pruette (_Alfio_), Gustav Kerker, conductor, Heinrich Conried, stage manager. Evening of same day, at the Lenox Lyceum, under the direction of Oscar Hammerstein, with Mme. Janouschoffsky (_Santuzza_), Mrs. Pemberton Hincks (_Lola_), Mrs. Jennie Bohner (_Lucia_), Payne Clarke (_Turiddu_), Herman Gerold (_Alfio_), Adolph Neuendorff, conductor. Metropolitan Opera House, December 30, 1891, with Eames as _Santuzza_; November 29, 1893, with Calvé (début) as _Santuzza_.

CHARACTERS

TURIDDU, a young soldier _Tenor_ ALFIO, the village teamster _Baritone_ LOLA, his wife _Mezzo-Soprano_ MAMMA LUCIA, Turiddu's mother _Contralto_ SANTUZZA, a village girl _Soprano_

Villagers, peasants, boys.

_Time_--The present, on Easter day.

_Place_--A village in Sicily.

"Cavalleria Rusticana" in its original form is a short story, compact and tense, by Giovanni Verga. From it was made the stage tragedy, in which Eleonora Duse displayed her great powers as an actress. It is a drama of swift action and intense emotion; of passion, betrayal, and retribution. Much has been made of the rôle played by the "book" in contributing to the success of the opera. It is a first-rate libretto--one of the best ever put forth. It inspired the composer to what so far has remained his only significant achievement. But only in that respect is it responsible for the success of "Cavalleria Rusticana" as an opera. The hot blood of the story courses through the music of Mascagni, who in his score also has quieter passages, that make the cries of passion the more poignant. Like practically every enduring success, that of "Cavalleria Rusticana" rests upon merit. From beginning to end it is an inspiration. In it, in 1890, Mascagni, at the age of twenty-one, "found himself," and ever since has been trying, unsuccessfully, to find himself again.

The prelude contains three passages of significance in the development of the story. The first of these is the phrase of the despairing _Santuzza_, in which she cries out to _Turiddu_ that, despite his betrayal and desertion of her, she still loves and pardons him. The second is the melody of the duet between _Santuzza_ and _Turiddu_, in which she implores him to remain with her and not to follow _Lola_ into the church. The third is the air in Sicilian style, the "Siciliana," which, as part of the prelude, _Turiddu_ sings behind the curtain, in the manner of a serenade to _Lola_, "O Lola, bianca come fior di spino" (O Lola, fair as a smiling flower).

With the end of the "Siciliana" the curtain rises. It discloses a public square in a Sicilian village. On one side, in the background, is a church, on the other _Mamma Lucia's_ wineshop and dwelling. It is Easter morning. Peasants, men, women, and children cross or move about the stage. The church bells ring, the church doors swing open, people enter. A chorus, in which, mingled with gladness over the mild beauty of the day, there also is the lilt of religious ecstasy, follows. Like a refrain the women voice and repeat "Gli aranci olezzano sui verdi margini" (Sweet is the air with the blossoms of oranges). They intone "La Vergine serena allietasi del Salvator" (The Holy Mother mild, in ecstasy fondles the child), and sing of "Tempo è si mormori," etc. (Murmurs of tender song tell of a joyful world). The men, meanwhile, pay a tribute to the industry and charm of woman. Those who have not entered the church, go off singing. Their voices die away in the distance.

_Santuzza_, sad of mien, approaches _Mamma Lucia's_ house, just as her false lover's mother comes out. There is a brief colloquy between the two women. _Santuzza_ asks for _Turiddu_. His mother answers that he has gone to Francofonte to fetch some wine. _Santuzza_ tells her that he was seen during the night in the village. The girl's evident distress touches _Mamma Lucia_. She bids her enter the house.

"I may not step across your threshold," exclaims _Santuzza_. "I cannot pass it, I, most unhappy outcast! Excommunicated!"

_Mamma Lucia_ may have her suspicions of _Santuzza's_ plight. "What of my son?" she asks. "What have you to tell me?"

But at that moment the cracking of a whip and the jingling of bells are heard from off stage. _Alfio_, the teamster, comes upon the scene. He is accompanied by the villagers. Cheerfully he sings the praises of a teamster's life, also of _Lola's_, his wife's, beauty. The villagers join him in chorus, "Il cavallo scalpita" (Gayly moves the tramping horse).

_Alfio_ asks _Mamma Lucia_ if she still has on hand some of her fine old wine. She tells him it has given out. _Turiddu_ has gone away to buy a fresh supply of it.

"No," says _Alfio_. "He is here. I saw him this morning standing not far from my cottage."

_Mamma Lucia_ is about to express great surprise. _Santuzza_ is quick to check her.

[Illustration: Gadski as Santuzza in "Cavalleria Rusticana"]

_Alfio_ goes his way. A choir in the church intones the "Regina Coeli." The people in the square join in the "Allelujas." Then they kneel and, led by _Santuzza's_ voice, sing the Resurrection hymn, "Inneggiamo, il Signor non è morto" (Let us sing of the Lord now victorious). The "Allelujas" resound in the church, which all, save _Mamma Lucia_ and _Santuzza_, enter.

_Mamma Lucia_ asks the girl why she signalled her to remain silent when _Alfio_ spoke of _Turiddu's_ presence in the village. "Voi lo sapete" (Now you shall know), exclaims _Santuzza_, and in one of the most impassioned numbers of the score, pours into the ears of her lover's mother the story of her betrayal. Before _Turiddu_ left to serve his time in the army, he and _Lola_ were in love with each other. But, tiring of awaiting his return, the fickle _Lola_ married _Alfio_. _Turiddu_, after he had come back, made love to _Santuzza_ and betrayed her; now, lured by _Lola_, he has taken advantage of _Alfio's_ frequent absences, and has gone back to his first love. _Mamma Lucia_ pities the girl, who begs that she go into church and pray for her.

_Turiddu_ comes, a handsome fellow. _Santuzza_ upbraids him for pretending to have gone away, when instead he has surreptitiously been visiting _Lola_. It is a scene of vehemence. But when _Turiddu_ intimates that his life would be in danger were _Alfio_ to know of his visits to _Lola_, the girl is terrified. "Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono" (Beat me, insult me, I still love and forgive you).

Such is her mood--despairing, yet relenting. But _Lola's_ voice is heard off stage. Her song is carefree, a key to her character, which is fickle and selfish, with a touch of the cruel. "Fior di giaggiolo" (Bright flower, so glowing) runs her song. Heard off stage, it yet conveys in its melody, its pauses, and inflections, a quick sketch in music of the heartless coquette, who, to gratify a whim, has stolen _Turiddu_ from _Santuzza_. She mocks the girl, then enters the church. Only a few minutes has she been on the stage, but Mascagni has let us know all about her.

A highly dramatic scene, one of the most impassioned outbursts of the score, occurs at this point. _Turiddu_ turns to follow _Lola_ into the church. _Santuzza_ begs him to stay. "No, no, Turiddu, rimani, rimani, ancora--Abbandonarmi dunque tu vuoi?" (No, no, Turiddu! Remain with me now and forever! Love me again! How can you forsake me?).

[Music]

A highly dramatic phrase, already heard in the prelude, occurs at "La tua Santuzza piange e t'implora" (Lo! here thy Santuzza, weeping, implores thee).

_Turiddu_ repulses her. She clings to him. He loosens her hold and casts her from him to the ground. When she rises, he has followed _Lola_ into the church.

But the avenger is nigh. Before _Santuzza_ has time to think, _Alfio_ comes upon the scene. He is looking for _Lola_. To him in the fewest possible words, and in the white voice of suppressed passion, _Santuzza_ tells him that his wife has been unfaithful with _Turiddu_. In the brevity of its recitatives, the tense summing up in melody of each dramatic situation as it develops in the inexorably swift unfolding of the tragic story, lies the strength of "Cavalleria Rusticana."

_Santuzza_ and _Alfio_ leave. The square is empty. But the action goes on in the orchestra. For the intermezzo--the famous intermezzo--which follows, recapitulates, in its forty-eight bars, what has gone before, and foreshadows the tragedy that is impending. There is no restating here of leading motives. The effect is accomplished by means of terse, vibrant melodic progression. It is melody and yet it is drama. Therein lies its merit. For no piece of serious music can achieve the world-wide popularity of this intermezzo and not possess merit.

[Music]

Mr. Krehbiel, in _A Second Book of Operas_, gives an instance of its unexampled appeal to the multitude. A burlesque on this opera was staged in Vienna. The author of the burlesque thought it would be a great joke to have the intermezzo played on a hand-organ. Up to that point the audience had been hilarious. But with the first wheezy tone of the grinder the people settled down to silent attention, and, when the end came, burst into applause. Even the hand-organ could not rob the intermezzo of its charm for the public!

What is to follow in the opera is quickly accomplished. The people come out of church. _Turiddu_, in high spirits, because he is with _Lola_ and because _Santuzza_ no longer is hanging around to reproach him, invites his friends over to his mother's wineshop. Their glasses are filled. _Turiddu_ dashes off a drinking song, "Viva, il vino spumeggiante" (Hail! the ruby wine now flowing).

The theme of this song will be found quoted on p. 609.

_Alfio_ joins them. _Turiddu_ offers him wine. He refuses it. The women leave, taking _Lola_ with them. In a brief exchange of words _Alfio_ gives the challenge. In Sicilian fashion the two men embrace, and _Turiddu_, in token of acceptance, bites _Alfio's_ ear. _Alfio_ goes off in the direction of the place where they are to test their skill with the stiletto.

_Turiddu_ calls for _Mamma Lucia_. He is going away, he tells her. At home the wine cup passes too freely. He must leave. If he should not come back she must be like a kindly mother to _Santuzza_--"_Santa_, whom I have promised to lead to the altar."

"Un bacio, mamma! Un altro bacio!--Addio!" (One kiss, one kiss, my mother. And yet another. Farewell!)

He goes. _Mamma Lucia_ wanders aimlessly to the back of the stage. She is weeping. _Santuzza_ comes on, throws her arms around the poor woman's neck. People crowd upon the scene. All is suppressed excitement. There is a murmur of distant voices. A woman is heard calling from afar: "They have murdered neighbour Turiddu!"

Several women enter hastily. One of them, the one whose voice was heard in the distance, repeats, but now in a shriek, "Hanno ammazzato compare Turiddu!"--(They have murdered neighbour Turiddu!)

_Santuzza_ falls in a swoon. The fainting form of _Mamma Lucia_ is supported by some of the women.

"Cala rapidamente la tela" (The curtain falls rapidly).

A tragedy of Sicily, hot in the blood, is over.

When "Cavalleria Rusticana" was produced, no Italian opera had achieved such a triumph since "Aïda"--a period of nearly twenty years. It was hoped that Mascagni would prove to be Verdi's successor, a hope which, needless to say, has not been fulfilled.

To "Cavalleria Rusticana," however, we owe the succession of short operas, usually founded on debased and sordid material, in which other composers have paid Mascagni the doubtful compliment of imitation in hopes of achieving similar success. Of all these, "Pagliacci," by Leoncavallo, is the only one that has shared the vogue of the Mascagni opera. The two make a remarkably effective double bill.

L'AMICO FRITZ

FRIEND FRITZ

Opera in three acts, by Pietro Mascagni; text by Suaratoni [Transcriber's Note: later editions have P. Suardon (N. Daspuro)], from the story by Erckmann-Chatrian. Produced, Rome, 1891. Philadelphia, by Gustav Hinrichs, June 8, 1892. New York, Metropolitan Opera House, with Calvé as _Suzel_, January 10, 1894.

CHARACTERS

FRITZ KOBUS, a rich bachelor _Tenor_ DAVID, a Rabbi _Baritone_ FREDERICO } friends of Fritz { _Tenor_ HANEGO } { _Tenor_ SUZEL, a farmer's daughter _Soprano_ BEPPE, a gypsy _Soprano_ CATERINA, a housekeeper _Contralto_

_Time_--The present.

_Place_--Alsace.

## Act I. _Fritz Kobus_, a well-to-do landowner and confirmed bachelor,

receives felicitations on his fortieth birthday. He invites his friends to dine with him. Among the guests is _Suzel_, his tenant's daughter, who presents him with a nosegay, and sits beside him. Never before has he realized her charm. _Rabbi David_, a confirmed matchmaker, wagers with the protesting _Fritz_ that he will soon be married.

## Act II. _Friend Fritz_ is visiting _Suzel's_ father. The charming girl

mounts a ladder in the garden, picks cherries, and throws them down to _Fritz_, who is charmed. When _Rabbi David_ appears and tells him that he has found a suitable husband for _Suzel_, _Fritz_ cannot help revealing his own feelings.

## Act III. At home again _Fritz_ finds no peace. _David_ tells him

_Suzel's_ marriage has been decided on. _Fritz_ loses his temper; says he will forbid the bans. _Suzel_, pale and sad, comes in with a basket of fruit. When her wedding is mentioned she bursts into tears. That gives _Fritz_ his chance which he improves. _David_ wins his wager, one of _Fritz's_ vineyards, which he promptly bestows upon _Suzel_ as a dowry.

The duet of the cherries in the second act is the principal musical number in the opera.

IRIS

Opera in three acts, by Mascagni. Words by Luigi Illica. Produced, Constanzi Theatre, Rome, November 22, 1898; revised version, La Scala, Milan, 1899. Philadelphia, October 14, 1902, and Metropolitan Opera House, New York, October 16, 1902, under the composer's direction (Marie Farneti, as _Iris_); Metropolitan Opera House, 1908, with Eames (_Iris_), Caruso (_Osaka_), Scotti, and Journet; April 3, 1915, Bori, Botta, and Scotti.

CHARACTERS

IL CIECO, the blind man _Bass_ IRIS, his daughter _Soprano_ OSAKA _Tenor_ KYOTO, a _takiomati_ _Baritone_

Ragpickers, shopkeepers, geishas, _mousmés_ (laundry girls), _samurai_, citizens, strolling players, three women representing Beauty, Death, and the Vampire; a young girl.

_Time_--Nineteenth century.

_Place_--Japan.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by White

Bori as Iris]

## Act I. The home of _Iris_ near the city. The hour is before dawn. The

music depicts the passage from night into day. It rises to a crashing climax--the instrumentation including tamtams, cymbals, drums, and bells--while voices reiterate, "Calore! Luce! Amor!" (Warmth! Light! Love!). In warmth and light there are love and life. A naturalistic philosophy, to which this opening gives the key, runs through "Iris."

Fujiyama glows in the early morning light, as _Iris_, who loves only her blind father, comes to the door of her cottage. She has dreamed that monsters sought to injure her doll, asleep under a rosebush. With the coming of the sun the monsters have fled. _Mousmés_ come to the bank of the stream and sing prettily over their work.

_Iris_ is young and beautiful. She is desired by _Osaka_, a wealthy rake. _Kyoto_, keeper of a questionable resort, plots to obtain her for him. He comes to her cottage with a marionette show. While _Iris_ is intent upon the performance, three geisha girls, representing Beauty, Death, and the Vampire, dance about her. They conceal her from view by spreading their skirts. She is seized and carried off. _Osaka_, by leaving money for the blind old father, makes the abduction legal. When _Il Cieco_ returns, he is led to believe that his daughter has gone voluntarily to the Yoshiwara. In a rage he starts out to find her.

## Act II. Interior of the "Green House" in the Yoshiwara. _Iris_

awakens. At first she thinks it is an awakening after death. But death brings paradise, while she is unhappy. _Osaka_, who has placed jewels beside her, comes to woo, but vainly seeks to arouse her passions. In her purity she remains unconscious of the significance of his words and caresses. His brilliant attire leads her to mistake him for Tor, the sun god, but he tells her he is Pleasure. That frightens her. For, as she narrates to him, one day, in the temple, a priest told her that pleasure and death were one.

_Osaka_ wearies of her innocence and leaves her. But _Kyoto_, wishing to lure him back, attires her in transparent garments and places her upon a balcony. The crowd in the street cries out in amazement over her beauty. Again _Osaka_ wishes to buy her. She hears her father's voice. Joyously she makes her presence known to him. He, ignorant of her abduction and believing her a voluntary inmate of the "Green House," takes a handful of mud from the street, flings it at her, and curses her. In terror, she leaps from a window into the sewer below.

## Act III. Ragpickers and scavengers are dragging the sewer before

daylight. In song they mock the moon. A flash of light from the mystic mountain awakens what is like an answering gleam in the muck. They discover and drag out the body of _Iris_. They begin to strip her of her jewels. She shows signs of life. The sordid men and women flee. The rosy light from Fujiyama spreads over the sky. Warmth and light come once more. _Iris_ regains consciousness. Spirit voices whisper of earthly existence and its selfish aspirations typified by the knavery of _Kyoto_, the lust of _Osaka_, the desire of _Iris's_ father, _Il Cieco_, for the comforts of life through her ministrations.

Enough strength comes back to her for her to acclaim the sanctity of the sun. In its warmth and light--the expression of Nature's love--she sinks, as if to be absorbed by Nature, into the blossoming field that spreads about her. Again, as in the beginning, there is the choired tribute to warmth, light, love--the sun!

## Partly sordid, partly ethereal in its exposition, the significance of

this story has escaped Mascagni, save in the climax of the opening allegory of the work. Elsewhere he employs instruments associated by us with Oriental music, but the spirit of the Orient is lacking. In a score requiring subtlety of invention, skill in instrumentation, and, in general, the gift for poetic expression in music, these qualities are not. The scene of the _mousmés_ in the first act with _Iris's_ song to the flowers of her garden, "In pure stille" ([Transcriber's Note: translation left blank in original; should probably be 'In pure droplets']); the vague, yet unmistakable hum of Japanese melody in the opening of Act II; and her narrative in the scene with _Osaka_ in the same act, "Un dì al tempio" (One day at the temple)--these, with the hymn to the sun, are about the only passages that require mention.

LODOLETTA

Opera in three acts, by Mascagni. Words by Gioacchino Forzano, after Ouida's novel, _Two Little Wooden Shoes_. Produced, Rome, April 30, 1917. Metropolitan Opera House, New York, January 12, 1918, with Farrar (later in the season, Florence Easton) as _Lodoletta_, Caruso (_Flammen_), Amato (_Giannotto_), and Didur (_Antonio_).

CHARACTERS

LODOLETTA _Soprano_ FLAMMEN _Tenor_ FRANZ _Bass_ GIANNOTTO _Baritone_ ANTONIO _Bass_ A MAD WOMAN _Mezzo-Soprano_ VANNARD _Mezzo-Soprano_ MAUD _Soprano_ A VOICE _Tenor_

A letter carrier, an old violinist.

_Time_--Second empire.

_Place_--A Dutch village.

_Lodoletta_, a young girl, who lives in a little Dutch village, is a foundling, who has been brought up by old _Antonio_. He discovered her as an infant in a basket of flowers at the lakeside. When she has grown up to be sixteen, she is eager for a pair of red wooden shoes, but _Antonio_ cannot afford to buy them. _Flammen_, a painter from Paris, offers him a gold piece for a roadside Madonna he owns. _Antonio_ takes it, and with it buys the shoes for _Lodoletta_. Soon afterwards the old man is killed by a fall from a tree. _Lodoletta_ is left alone in the world.

_Flammen_, who has conceived a deep affection for her, persuades her to be his model. This makes the villagers regard her with suspicion. She begs him to go. He returns to Paris, only to find that absence makes him fonder of the girl than ever. He returns to the village. _Lodoletta_ has disappeared. His efforts to find her fail. On New Year's his friends gather at his villa to celebrate, and make him forget his love affair in gayety. The celebration is at its height, when _Lodoletta_, who, in her turn, has been searching for _Flammen_, reaches the garden. She has wandered far and is almost exhausted, but has found _Flammen's_ house at last. She thinks he is expecting her, because the villa is so brilliantly illuminated. But, when she looks through the window upon the gay scene, she falls, cold, exhausted, and disillusioned, in the snow just as midnight sounds. _Flammen's_ party of friends depart, singing merrily. As he turns back toward the house he discovers a pair of little red wooden shoes. They are sadly worn. But he recognizes them. He looks for _Lodoletta_, only to find her frozen to death in the snow.

It may be that "Lodoletta's" success at its production in Rome was genuine. Whatever acclaim it has received at the Metropolitan Opera House is due to the fine cast with which it has been presented. There is little spontaneity in the score. A spirit of youthfulness is supposed to pervade the first act, but the composer's efforts are so apparent that the result is childish rather than youthful. Moreover, as Henry T. Finck writes in the N.Y. _Evening Post_, "Lodoletta" seems to have revived some of the dramatic inconsistencies of the old-fashioned kind of Italian opera. For instance, in the last act, the scene is laid outside _Flammen's_ villa in Paris on New Year's eve--it is zero weather to all appearances, although there is an intermittent snowstorm--but _Flammen_ and _Franz_, and later all his guests, come out without wraps, and stay for quite awhile. Later _Lodoletta_, well wrapped (though in rags), appears, and is quickly frozen to death.

The scene of the first act is laid in the village in April. _Lodoletta's_ cottage is seen and the shrine with the picture of the Madonna. It is in order to copy or obtain this that _Flammen_ comes from Paris. In the background is the tree which _Antonio_ climbs and from which, while he is plucking blossom-laden branches for the spring festival, he falls and is killed--a great relief, the character is so dull. There is much running in and out, and singing by boys and girls in this act. The music allotted to them is pretty without being extraordinarily fetching. An interchange of phrases between _Flammen_ and _Lodoletta_ offers opportunity for high notes to the tenor, but there is small dramatic significance in the music.

In the second act the stage setting is the same, except that the season is autumn. There is a song for _Lodoletta_, and, as in Act I, episodes for her and the children, who exclaim delightedly when they see the picture _Flammen_ has been painting, "È Lodoletta viva, com'è bella" (See! Lodoletta, and so pretty!). But there is little progress made in this act. Much of it has the effect of repetition.

In the third act one sees the exterior of _Flammen's_ villa, and through the open gates of the courtyard Paris in the midst of New Year's gayety. The merriment within the villa is suggested by music and silhouetted figures against the windows. Some of the guests dash out, throw confetti, and indulge in other pranks, which, intended to be bright and lively, only seem silly. As in the previous acts, the sustained measures for _Lodoletta_ and for _Flammen_, while intended to be dramatic, lack that quality--one which cannot be dispensed with in opera. "The spectacle of _Flammen_, in full evening dress and without a hat, singing on his doorstep in a snowstorm, would tickle the funny bone of any but an operatic audience," writes Grenville Vernon in the N.Y. _Tribune_.

ISABEAU

With Rosa Raisa in the title rôle, the Chicago Opera Company produced Mascagni's "Isabeau" at the Auditorium, Chicago, November 12, 1918. The company repeated it at the Lexington Theatre, New York, February 13, 1918, also with Rosa Raisa as _Isabeau_. The opera had its first performances on any stage at Buenos Aires, June 2, 1911. The libretto, based upon the story of Lady Godiva, is in three acts, and is the work of Luigi Illica. The opera has made so little impression that I restrict myself to giving the story.

In Illica's version of the Godiva story, the heroine, _Isabeau_, is as renowned for her aversion to marriage as for her beauty. Her father, _King Raimondo_, eager to find for her a husband, arranges a tournament of love, at which she is to award her hand as prize to the knight who wins her favour. She rejects them all. For this obstinacy and because she intercedes in a quarrel, _Raimondo_ dooms her to ride unclad through the town at high noon of the same day. At the urging of the populace he modifies his sentence, but only so far as to announce that, while she rides, no one shall remain in the streets or look out of the windows. The order is disobeyed only by a simpleton, a country lout named _Folco_. Dazed by _Isabeau's_ beauty, he strews flowers for her as she comes riding along. For this the people demand that he suffer the full penalty for violation of the order, which is the loss of eyesight and life. _Isabeau_, horrified by _Folco's_ act, visits him in prison. Her revulsion turns to love. She decides to inform her father that she is ready to marry. But the _Chancellor_ incites the populace to carry out the death sentence. _Isabeau_ commits suicide.

When "Isabeau" had its American production in Chicago, more than twenty-seven years had elapsed since the first performance of "Cavalleria Rusticana." A long list of operas by Mascagni lies between. But he still remains a one-opera man, that opera, however, a masterpiece.

Ruggiero Leoncavallo

(1858- )

Leoncavallo, born March 8, 1858, at Naples, is a dramatic composer, a pianist, and a man of letters. He is the composer of the successful opera "Pagliacci," has made concert tours as a pianoforte virtuoso, is his own librettist, and has received the degree of Doctor of Letters from the University of Bologna.

He studied at the Naples Conservatory. His first opera, "Tommaso Chatterton," was a failure, but was successfully revived in 1896, in Rome. An admirer of Wagner and personally encouraged by him, he wrote and set to music a trilogy, "Crepusculum" (Twilight): I. "I Medici"; II. "Gerolamo Savonarola"; III. "Cesare Borgia." The performing rights to