Part I

were acquired by the Ricordi publishing house, but, no preparations being made for its production, he set off again on his travels as a pianist; officiating also as a répétiteur for opera singers, among them Maurel, in Paris, where he remained several years. His friendship with that singer bore unexpected fruit. Despairing of ever seeing "I Medici" performed, and inspired by the success of "Cavalleria Rusticana," Leoncavallo wrote and composed "Pagliacci," and sent it to Ricordi's rival, the music publisher Sonzogno. The latter accepted "Pagliacci" immediately after reading the libretto. Maurel then not only threw his influence in favour of the work, but even offered to create the rôle of _Tonio_; and in that character he was in the original cast (1892). "I Medici" was now produced (La Scala, Milan, 1893), but failed of success. Later operas by Leoncavallo, "La Bohème" (La Fenice Theatre, Venice, 1897) and "Zaza" (Milan, 1900), fared somewhat better, and the latter is played both in Italy and Germany. But "Roland of Berlin," commissioned by the German Emperor and performed December 13, 1904, was a complete failure. In fact Leoncavallo's name is so identified with "Pagliacci" that, like Mascagni, he may be called a one-opera composer.

PAGLIACCI

CLOWNS

Opera in two acts, words and music by Ruggiero Leoncavallo. Produced, Teatro dal Verme, Milan, May 17, 1892. Grand Opera House, New York, June 15, 1893, under the direction of Gustav Hinrichs, with Selma Kronold (_Nedda_), Montegriffo (_Canio_), and Campanari (_Tonio_). Metropolitan Opera House, December 11, 1893, with Melba as _Nedda_, De Lucia as _Canio_, and Ancona as _Tonio_.

CHARACTERS

CANIO (in the play _Pagliaccio_), head of a troupe of strolling players _Tenor_ NEDDA (in the play _Columbine_), wife of _Canio_ _Soprano_ TONIO (in the play _Taddeo_, a clown) _Baritone_ BEPPE (in the play _Harlequin_) _Tenor_ SILVIO, a villager _Baritone_

Villagers.

_Time_--The Feast of the Assumption, about 1865-70.

_Place_--Montalto, in Calabria.

"Pagliacci" opens with a prologue. There is an instrumental introduction. Then _Tonio_ pokes his head through the curtains,--"Si può? Signore, Signori" (By your leave, Ladies and Gentlemen),--comes out, and sings. The prologue rehearses, or at least hints at, the story of the opera, and does so in musical phrases, which we shall hear again as the work progresses--the bustle of the players as they make ready for the performance; _Canio's_ lament that he must be merry before his audiences, though his heart be breaking; part of the love-making music between _Nedda_ and _Silvio_; and the theme of the intermezzo, to the broad measures of which _Tonio_ sings, "E voi, piuttosto che le nostre povere gabbane" (Ah, think then, sweet people, when you behold us clad in our motley).

[Music]

The prologue, in spite of ancient prototypes, was a bold stroke on the part of Leoncavallo, and, as the result proved, a successful one. Besides its effectiveness in the opera, it has made a good concert number. Moreover, it is quite unlikely that without it Maurel would have offered to play _Tonio_ at the production of the work in Milan.

## Act I. The edge of the village of Montalto, Calabria. People are

celebrating the Feast of the Assumption. In the background is the tent of the strolling players. These players, _Canio_, _Nedda_, _Tonio_, and _Beppe_, in the costume of their characters in the play they are to enact, are parading through the village.

The opening chorus, "Son qua" (They're here), proclaims the innocent joy with which the village hails the arrival of the players. The beating of a drum, the blare of a trumpet are heard. The players, having finished their parade through the village, are returning to their tent. _Beppe_, in his _Harlequin_ costume, enters leading a donkey drawing a gaudily painted cart, in which _Nedda_ is reclining. Behind her, in his _Pagliaccio_ costume, is _Canio_, beating the big drum and blowing the trumpet. _Tonio_, dressed as _Taddeo_, the clown, brings up the rear. The scene is full of life and gayety.

Men, women, and boys, singing sometimes in separate groups, sometimes together, form the chorus. The rising inflection in their oft-repeated greeting to _Canio_ as "il principe sei dei Pagliacci" (the prince of Pagliaccios), adds materially to the lilt of joy in their greeting to the players whose coming performance they evidently regard as the climax to the festival.

_Canio_ addresses the crowd. At seven o'clock the play will begin. They will witness the troubles of poor _Pagliaccio_, and the vengeance he wreaked on the _Clown_, a treacherous fellow. 'Twill be a strange combination of love and of hate.

Again the crowd acclaims its joy at the prospect of seeing the players on the stage behind the flaps of the tent.

_Tonio_ comes forward to help _Nedda_ out of the cart. _Canio_ boxes his ears, and lifts _Nedda_ down himself. _Tonio_, jeered at by the women and boys, angrily shakes his fists at the youngsters, and goes off muttering that _Canio_ will have to pay high for what he has done. _Beppe_ leads off the donkey with the cart, comes back, and throws down his whip in front of the tent. A villager asks _Canio_ to drink at the tavern. _Beppe_ joins them. _Canio_ calls to _Tonio_. Is he coming with them? _Tonio_ replies that he must stay behind to groom the donkey. A villager suggests that _Tonio_ is remaining in order to make love to _Nedda_. _Canio_ takes the intended humour of this sally rather grimly. He says that in the play, when he interferes with _Tonio's_ love-making, he lays himself open to a beating. But in real life--let any one, who would try to rob him of _Nedda's_ love, beware. The emphasis with which he speaks causes comment.

"What can he mean?" asks _Nedda_ in an aside.

"Surely you don't suspect her?" question the villagers of _Canio_.

Of course not, protests _Canio_, and kisses _Nedda_ on the forehead.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Caruso as Canio in "I Pagliacci"]

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Farrar as Nedda in "I Pagliacci"]

Just then the bagpipers from a neighbouring village are heard approaching. The musicians, followed by the people of their village, arrive to join in the festival. All are made welcome, and the villagers, save a few who are waiting for _Canio_ and _Beppe_, go off down the road toward the village. The church bells ring. The villagers sing the pretty chorus, "Din, don--suona vespero" (Ding, dong--the vespers bell). _Canio_ nods good-bye to _Nedda_. He and _Beppe_ go toward the village.

_Nedda_ is alone. _Canio's_ words and manner worry her. "How fierce he looked and watched me!--Heavens, if he should suspect me!" But the birds are singing, the birds, whose voices her mother understood. Her thoughts go back to her childhood. She sings, "Oh! che volo d'augelli" (Ah, ye beautiful song-birds), which leads up to her vivacious _ballatella_, "Stridono lassù, liberamente" (Forever flying through the boundless sky).

_Tonio_ comes on from behind the theatre. He makes violent love to _Nedda_. The more passionately the clown pleads, the more she mocks him, and the more angry he grows. He seeks forcibly to grasp and kiss her. She backs away from him. Spying the whip where _Beppe_ threw it down, she seizes it, and with it strikes _Tonio_ across the face. Infuriated, he threatens, as he leaves her, that he will yet be avenged on her.

A man leans over the wall. He calls in a low voice, "Nedda!"

"Silvio!" she cries. "At this hour ... what madness!"

He assures her that it is safe for them to meet. He has just left _Canio_ drinking at the tavern. She cautions him that, if he had been a few moments earlier, his presence would have been discovered by _Tonio_. He laughs at the suggestion of danger from a clown.

_Silvio_ has come to secure the promise of the woman he loves, and who has pledged her love to him, that she will run away with him from her husband after the performance that night. She does not consent at once, not because of any moral scruples, but because she is afraid. After a little persuasion, however, she yields. The scene reaches its climax in an impassioned love duet, "E allor perchè, di', tu m'hai stregato" (Why hast thou taught me Love's magic story). The lovers prepare to separate, but agree not to do so until after the play, when they are to meet and elope.

The jealous and vengeful _Tonio_ has overheard them, and has run to the tavern to bring back _Canio_. He comes just in time to hear _Nedda_ call after _Silvio_, who has climbed the wall, "Tonight, love, and forever I am thine."

_Canio_, with drawn dagger, makes a rush to overtake and slay the man, who was with his wife. _Nedda_ places herself between him and the wall, but he thrusts her violently aside, leaps the wall, and starts in pursuit. "May Heaven protect him now," prays _Nedda_ for her lover, while _Tonio_ chuckles.

The fugitive has been too swift for _Canio_. The latter returns.

"His name!" he demands of _Nedda_, for he does not know who her lover is. _Nedda_ refuses to give it. _Silvio_ is safe! What matter what happens to her. _Canio_ rushes at her to kill her. _Tonio_ and _Beppe_ restrain him. _Tonio_ whispers to him to wait. _Nedda's_ lover surely will be at the play. A look, or gesture from her will betray him. Then _Canio_ can wreak vengeance. _Canio_ thinks well of _Tonio's_ ruse. _Nedda_ escapes into the theatre.

It is time to prepare for the performance. _Beppe_ and _Tonio_ retire to do so.

_Canio's_ grief over his betrayal by _Nedda_ finds expression in one of the most famous numbers in modern Italian opera, "Vesti la giubba" (Now don the motley), with its tragic "Ridi, Pagliaccio" (Laugh thou, Pagliaccio), as _Canio_ goes toward the tent, and enters it. It is the old and ever effective story of the buffoon who must laugh, and make others laugh, while his heart is breaking.

[Music]

## Act II. The scene is the same as that of the preceding act. _Tonio_

with the big drum takes his position at the left angle of the theatre. _Beppe_ places benches for the spectators, who begin to assemble, while _Tonio_ beats the drum. _Silvio_ arrives and nods to friends. _Nedda_, dressed as _Columbine_, goes about with a plate and collects money. As she approaches _Silvio_, she pauses to speak a few words of warning to him, then goes on, and re-enters the theatre with _Beppe_. The brisk chorus becomes more insistent that the play begin. Most of the women are seated. Others stand with the men on slightly rising ground.

A bell rings loudly. The curtain of the tent theatre on the stage rises. The mimic scene represents a small room with two side doors and a practicable window at the back. _Nedda_, as _Columbine_, is walking about expectantly and anxiously. Her husband, _Pagliaccio_, has gone away till morning. _Taddeo_ is at the market. She awaits her lover, _Arlecchino_ (_Harlequin_). A dainty minuet forms the musical background.

A guitar is heard outside. _Columbine_ runs to the window with signs of love and impatience. _Harlequin_, outside, sings his pretty serenade to his _Columbine_, "O Colombina, il tenero" (O Columbine, unbar to me thy lattice high).

The ditty over, she returns to the front of the mimic stage, seats herself, back to the door, through which _Tonio_, as _Taddeo_, a basket on his arm, now enters. He makes exaggerated love to _Columbine_, who, disgusted with his advances, goes to the window, opens it, and signals. _Beppe_, as _Harlequin_, enters by the window. He makes light of _Taddeo_, whom he takes by the ear and turns out of the room, to the accompaniment of a few kicks. All the while the minuet has tripped its pretty measure and the mimic audience has found plenty to amuse it.

_Harlequin_ has brought a bottle of wine, also a phial with a sleeping-potion, which she is to give her husband, when opportunity offers, so that, while he sleeps, she and _Harlequin_ may fly together. Love appears to prosper, till, suddenly, _Taddeo_ bursts in. _Columbine's_ husband, _Pagliaccio_, is approaching. He suspects her, and is stamping with anger. "Pour the philtre in his wine, love!" admonishes _Harlequin_, and hurriedly gets out through the window.

_Columbine_ calls after him, just as _Canio_, in the character of _Pagliaccio_, appears in the door, "Tonight, love, and forever, I am thine!"--the same words _Canio_ heard his wife call after her lover a few hours before.

_Columbine_ parries _Pagliaccio's_ questions. He has returned too early. He has been drinking. No one was with her, save the harmless _Taddeo_, who has become alarmed and has sought safety in the closet. From within, _Taddeo_ expostulates with _Pagliaccio_. His wife is true, her pious lips would ne'er deceive her husband. The audience laughs.

But now it no longer is _Pagliaccio_, it is _Canio_, who calls out threateningly, not to _Columbine_, but to _Nedda_, "His name!"

"Pagliaccio! Pagliaccio!" protests _Nedda_, still trying to keep in the play. "No!" cries out her husband--in a passage dramatically almost as effective as "Ridi, Pagliaccio!"--"I am _Pagliaccio_ no more! I am a man again, with anguish deep and human!" The audience thinks his intensity is wonderful acting--all save _Silvio_, who shows signs of anxiety.

"Thou had'st my love," concludes _Canio_, "but now thou hast my hate and scorn."

"If you doubt me," argues _Nedda_, "why not let me leave you?"

"And go to your lover!--His name! Declare it!"

Still desperately striving to keep in the play, and avert the inevitable, _Nedda_, as if she were _Columbine_, sings a chic gavotte, "Suvvia, così terribile" (I never knew, my dear, that you were such a tragic fellow).

[Music]

She ends with a laugh, but stops short, at the fury in _Canio's_ look, as he takes a knife from the table.

"His name!"

"No!"--Save her lover she will, at whatever cost to herself.

The audience is beginning to suspect that this is no longer acting. The women draw back frightened, overturning the benches. _Silvio_ is trying to push his way through to the stage.

_Nedda_ makes a dash to escape into the audience. _Canio_ pursues and catches up with her.

"Take that--and--that!" (He stabs her in the back.) "Di morte negli spasimi lo dirai" (In the last death agony, thou'lt call his name).

"Soccorso ... Silvio!" (Help! Help!--Silvio!)

A voice from the audience cries, "Nedda!" A man has nearly reached the spot where she lies dead. _Canio_ turns savagely, leaps at him. A steel blade flashes. _Silvio_ falls dead beside _Nedda_.

"Gesummaria!" shriek the women; "Ridi _Pagliaccio_!" sob the instruments of the orchestra. _Canio_ stands stupefied. The knife falls from his hand:

"La commedia è finita" (The comedy is ended).

There are plays and stories in which, as in "Pagliacci," the drama on a mimic stage suddenly becomes real life, so that the tragedy of the play changes to the life-tragedy of one or more of the characters. "Yorick's Love," in which I saw Lawrence Barrett act, and of which I wrote a review for _Harper's Weekly_, was adapted by William D. Howells from "Drama Nuevo" by Estébanez, which is at least fifty years older than "Pagliacci." In it the actor _Yorick_ really murders the actor, whom in character, he is supposed to kill in the play. In the plot, as in real life, this actor had won away the love of _Yorick's_ wife, before whose eyes he is slain by the wronged husband. About 1883, I should say, I wrote a story, "A Performance of Othello," for a periodical published by students of Columbia University, in which the player of _Othello_, impelled by jealousy, actually kills his wife, who is the _Desdemona_, and then, as in the play, slays himself. Yet, although the _motif_ is an old one, this did not prevent Catulle Mendès, who himself had been charged with plagiarizing, in "La Femme de Tabarin," Paul Ferrier's earlier play, "Tabarin," from accusing Leoncavallo of plagiarizing "Pagliacci" from "La Femme de Tabarin," and from instituting legal proceedings to enjoin the performance of the opera in Brussels. Thereupon Leoncavallo, in a letter to his publisher, stated that during his childhood at Montalto a jealous player killed his wife after a performance, that his father was the judge at the criminal's trial--circumstances which so impressed the occurrence on his mind that he was led to adapt the episode for his opera. Catulle Mendès accepted the explanation and withdrew his suit.

There has been some discussion regarding the correct translation of "Pagliacci." It is best rendered as "Clowns," although it only is necessary to read in Italian cyclopedias the definition of _Pagliaccio_ to appreciate Philip Hale's caution that the character is not a clown in the restricted circus sense. Originally the word, which is the same as the French _paillasse_, signified a bed of straw, then was extended to include an upholstered under-mattress, and finally was applied to the buffoon in the old Italian comedy, whose costume generally was striped like the ticking or stuff, of which the covering of a mattress is made.

The play on the mimic stage in "Pagliacci" is, in fact, one of the _Harlequin_ comedies that has been acted for centuries by strolling players in Italy. But for the tragedy that intervenes in the opera, _Pagliaccio's_ ruse in returning before he was expected, in order to surprise his wife, _Columbina_, with _Arlecchino_, would have been punished by his being buffetted about the room and ejected. For "the reward of _Pagliaccio's_ most adroit stratagems is to be boxed on the ears and kicked."

Hence the poignancy of "Ridi, Pagliaccio!"

Giacomo Puccini

(1858- )

This composer, born in Lucca, Italy, June 22, 1858, first studied music in his native place as a private pupil of Angeloni. Later, at the Royal Conservatory, Milan, he came under the instruction of Ponchielli, composer of "La Gioconda," whose influence upon modern Italian opera, both as a preceptor and a composer, is regarded as greater than that of any other musician.

Puccini himself is considered the most important figure in the operatic world of Italy today, the successor of Verdi, if there is any. For while Mascagni and Leoncavallo each has one sensationally successful short opera to his credit, neither has shown himself capable of the sustained effort required to create a score vital enough to maintain the interest of an audience throughout three or four acts, a criticism I consider applicable even to Mascagni's "Lodoletta," notwithstanding its production and repetitions at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, which I believe largely due to unusual conditions produced by the European war. Puccini, on the other hand, is represented in the repertoire of the modern opera house by four large works: "Manon Lescaut" (1870), "La Bohème" (1896), "Tosca" (1900), and "Madama Butterfly" (1904). His early two-act opera, "Le Villi" (The Willis, Dal Verme Theatre, Milan, 1884), and his three-act opera, "La Fanciulla del West" (The Girl of the Golden West), 1910, have been much less successful; his "Edgar" (La Scala, Milan, 1889), is not heard outside of Italy. And his opera, "La Rondine," has not at this writing been produced here, and probably will not be until after the war, the full score being the property of a publishing house in Vienna, which, because of the war, has not been able to send copies of it to the people in several countries to whom the performing rights had been sold.

LE VILLI

"Le Villi" (The Willis), signifying the ghosts of maidens deserted by their lovers, is the title of a two-act opera by Puccini, words by Ferdinando Fortuna, produced May 31, 1884, Dal Verme Theatre, Milan, after it had been rejected in a prize competition at the Milan Conservatory, but revised by the composer with the aid of Boïto. It is Puccini's first work for the lyric stage. When produced at the Dal Verme Theatre, it was in one act, the composer later extending it to two, in which form it was brought out at the Reggio Theatre, Turin, December 26, 1884; Metropolitan Opera House, N.Y., December 17, 1908, with Alda (_Anna_), Bonci (_Robert_), Amato (_Wulf_).

Of the principal characters _Wulf_ is a mountaineer of the Black Forest; _Anna_, his daughter; _Robert_, her lover. After the betrothal feast, _Robert_, obliged to depart upon a journey, swears to _Anna_ that he will be faithful to her. In the second act, however, we find him indulging in wild orgies in Mayence and squandering money on an evil woman. In the second part of this act he returns to the Black Forest a broken-down man. The Willis dance about him. From _Wulf's_ hut he hears funeral music. _Anna's_ ghost now is one of the wild dancers. While he appeals to her, they whirl about him. He falls dead. The chorus sings "Hosanna" in derision of his belated plea for forgiveness.

Most expressive in the score is the wild dance of the Willis, who "have a character of their own, entirely distinct from that of other operatic spectres" (Streatfield). The prelude to the second act, "L'Abbandono," also is effective. Attractive in the first act are the betrothal scene, a prayer, and a waltz. "Le Villi," however, has not been a success outside of Italy.

"Manon Lescaut," on the other hand, has met with success elsewhere. Between it and "Le Villi" Puccini produced another opera, "Edgar," Milan, La Scala, 1889, but unknown outside of the composer's native country.

MANON LESCAUT

Opera in four acts, by Puccini. Produced at Turin, February 1, 1893. Covent Garden, London, May 14, 1894. Grand Opera House, Philadelphia, in English, August 29, 1894; Wallack's Theatre, New York, May 27, 1898, by the Milan Royal Italian Opera Company of La Scala; Metropolitan Opera House, New York, January 18, 1907, with Caruso, Cavalieri, and Scotti. The libretto, founded on Abbé Prévost's novel, is by Puccini, assisted by a committee of friends. The composer himself directed the production at the Metropolitan Opera House.

CHARACTERS

MANON LESCAUT _Soprano_ LESCAUT, sergeant of the King's Guards _Baritone_ CHEVALIER DES GRIEUX _Tenor_ GERONTE DE RAVOIR, Treasurer-General _Bass_ EDMUND, a student _Tenor_

_Time_--Second half of eighteenth century.

_Place_--Amiens, Paris, Havre, Louisiana.

## Act I plays in front of an inn at Amiens. _Edmund_ has a solo with

chorus for students and girls. _Lescaut_, _Geronte_, and _Manon_ arrive in a diligence. _Lescaut_ is taking his sister to a convent to complete her education, but finding her to be greatly admired by the wealthy _Geronte_, is quite willing to play a negative part and let the old satyr plot with the landlord to abduct _Manon_. _Des Grieux_, however, has seen her. "Donna non vidi mai simile a questa" (Never did I behold so fair a maiden), he sings in praise of her beauty.

[Music]

With her too it is love at first sight. When she rejoins him, as she had promised to, they have a love duet. "Vedete! Io son fedele alla parola mia" (Behold me! I have been faithful to my promise), she sings. _Edmund_, who has overheard _Geronte's_ plot to abduct _Manon_, informs _Des Grieux_, who has little trouble in inducing the girl to elope with him. They drive off in the carriage _Geronte_ had ordered. _Lescaut_, who has been carousing with the students, hints that, as _Des Grieux_ is not wealthy and _Manon_ loves luxury, he will soon be able to persuade her to desert her lover for the rich Treasurer-General.

Such, indeed, is the case, and in Act II, she is found ensconced in luxurious apartments in _Geronte's_ house in Paris. But to _Lescaut_, who prides himself on having brought the business with her wealthy admirer to a successful conclusion, she complains that "in quelle trine morbide"--in those silken curtains--there's a chill that freezes her. "O mia dimora umile, tu mi ritorni innanzi" (My little humble dwelling, I see you there before me). She left _Des Grieux_ for wealth and the luxuries it can bring--"Tell me, does not this gown suit me to perfection?" she asks _Lescaut_--and yet she longs for her handsome young lover.

_Geronte_ sends singers to entertain her. They sing a madrigal, "Sulla vetta tu del monte erri, O Clori" (Speed o'er the summit of the mountain, gentle Chloe).

[Music]

Then a dancing master enters. _Manon_, _Lescaut_, _Geronte_, and old beaus and abbés, who have come in with _Geronte_, form for the dance, and a lesson in the minuet begins.

[Music]

_Lescaut_ hurries off to inform _Des Grieux_, who has made money in gambling, where he can find _Manon_. When the lesson is over and all have gone, her lover appears at the door. At first he reproaches her, but soon is won by her beauty. There is an impassioned love duet, "Vieni! Colle tue braccia stringi Manon che t'ama" (Oh, come love! In your arms enfold Manon, who loves you).

_Geronte_ surprises them, pretends to approve of their affection, but really sends for the police. _Lescaut_ urges them to make a precipitate escape. _Manon_, however, now loath to leave the luxuries _Geronte_ has lavished on her, insists on gathering up her jewels in order to take them with her. The delay is fatal. The police arrive. She is arrested on the charge made by _Geronte_ that she is an abandoned woman.

Her sentence is banishment, with other women of loose character, to the then French possession of Louisiana. The journey to Havre for embarkation is represented by an intermezzo in the score, and an extract from Abbé Prévost's story in the libretto. The theme of the "Intermezzo," a striking composition, is as follows:

[Music]

## Act III. The scene is laid in a square near the harbour at Havre. _Des

Grieux_ and _Lescaut_ attempt to free _Manon_ from imprisonment, but are foiled. There is much hubbub. Then the roll is called of the women, who are to be transported. As they step forward, the crowd comments upon their looks. This, together with _Des Grieux's_ plea to the captain of the ship to be taken along with _Manon_, no matter how lowly the capacity in which he may be required to serve on board, make a dramatic scene.

## Act IV. "A vast plain on the borders of the territory of New Orleans.

The country is bare and undulating, the horizon is far distant, the sky is overcast. Night falls." Thus the libretto. The score is a long, sad duet between _Des Grieux_ and _Manon_. _Manon_ dies of exhaustion. _Des Grieux_ falls senseless upon her body.

LA BOHÈME

THE BOHEMIANS

Opera in four acts by Puccini; words by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica, founded on Henri Murger's book, _La Vie de Bohème_. Produced, Teatro Reggio, Turin, February 1, 1896. Manchester, England, in English, as "The Bohemians," April 22, 1897. Covent Garden, London, in English, October 2, 1897; in Italian, July 1, 1899. San Francisco, March, 1898, and Wallack's Theatre, New York, May 16, 1898, by a second-rate travelling organization, which called itself The Milan Royal Italian Opera Company of La Scala; American Theatre, New York, in English, by Henry W. Savage's Castle Square Opera Company, November 20, 1898; Metropolitan Opera House, New York, in Italian, December 18, 1901.

CHARACTERS

RUDOLPH, a poet _Tenor_ MARCEL, a painter _Baritone_ COLLINE, a philosopher _Bass_ SCHAUNARD, a musician _Baritone_ BENOIT, a landlord _Bass_ ALCINDORO, a state councillor and follower of _Musetta_ _Bass_ PARPIGNOL, an itinerant toy vender _Tenor_ CUSTOM-HOUSE SERGEANT _Bass_ MUSETTA, a grisette _Soprano_ MIMI, a maker of embroidery _Soprano_

Students, work girls, citizens, shopkeepers, street venders, soldiers, waiters, boys, girls, etc.

_Time_--About 1830.

_Place_--Latin Quarter, Paris.

"La Bohème" is considered by many Puccini's finest score. There is little to choose, however, between it, "Tosca," and "Madama Butterfly." Each deals successfully with its subject. It chances that, as "La Bohème" is laid in the Quartier Latin, the students' quarter of Paris, where gayety and pathos touch elbows, it laughs as well as weeps. Authors and composers who can tear passion to tatters are more numerous than those who have the light touch of high comedy. The latter, a distinguished gift, confers distinction upon many passages in the score of "La Bohème," which anon sparkles with merriment, anon is eloquent of love, anon is stressed by despair.

## Act I. The garret in the Latin Quarter, where live the inseparable

quartet--_Rudolph_, poet; _Marcel_, painter; _Colline_, philosopher; _Schaunard_, musician, who defy hunger with cheerfulness and play pranks upon the landlord of their meagre lodging, when he importunes them for his rent.

When the act opens, _Rudolph_ is at a table writing, and _Marcel_ is at work on a painting, "The Passage of the Red Sea." He remarks that, owing to lack of fuel for the garret stove, the Red Sea is rather cold.

"Questo mar rosso" (This Red Sea), runs the duet, in the course of which _Rudolph_ says that he will sacrifice the manuscript of his tragedy to the needs of the stove. They tear up the first act, throw it into the stove, and light it. _Colline_ comes in with a bundle of books he has vainly been attempting to pawn. Another act of the tragedy goes into the fire, by which they warm themselves, still hungry.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Farrar as Mimi in "La Bohème"]

[Illustration: Photo by Hall

Café Momus Scene, "La Bohème," Act II

Mimi (Rennyson), Musette (Joel), Rudolph (Sheehan)]

But relief is nigh. Two boys enter. They bring provisions and fuel. After them comes _Schaunard_. He tosses money on the table. The boys leave. In vain _Schaunard_ tries to tell his friends the ludicrous details of his three-days' musical engagement to an eccentric Englishman. It is enough for them that it has yielded fuel and food, and that some money is left over for the immediate future. Between their noise in stoking the stove and unpacking the provisions, _Schaunard_ cannot make himself heard.

_Rudolph_ locks the door. Then all go to the table and pour out wine. It is Christmas eve. _Schaunard_ suggests that, when they have emptied their glasses, they repair to their favourite resort, the Café Momus, and dine. Agreed. Just then there is a knock. It is _Benoit_, their landlord, for the rent. They let him in and invite him to drink with them. The sight of the money on the table reassures him. He joins them. The wine loosens his tongue. He boasts of his conquests of women at shady resorts. The four friends feign indignation. What! He, a married man, engaged in such disreputable proceedings! They seize him, lift him to his feet, and eject him, locking the door after him.

The money on the table was earned by _Schaunard_, but, according to their custom, they divide it. Now, off for the Café Momus--that is, all but _Rudolph_, who will join them soon--when he has finished an article he has to write for a new journal, the _Beaver_. He stands on the landing with a lighted candle to aid the others in making their way down the rickety stairs.

With little that can be designated as set melody, there nevertheless has not been a dull moment in the music of these scenes. It has been brisk, merry and sparkling, in keeping with the careless gayety of the four dwellers in the garret.

Re-entering the room, and closing the door after him, _Rudolph_ clears a space on the table for pens and paper, then sits down to write. Ideas are slow in coming. Moreover, at that moment, there is a timid knock at the door.

"Who's there?" he calls.

It is a woman's voice that says, hesitatingly, "Excuse me, my candle has gone out."

_Rudolph_ runs to the door, and opens it. On the threshold stands a frail, appealingly attractive young woman. She has in one hand an extinguished candle, in the other a key. _Rudolph_ bids her come in. She crosses the threshold. A woman of haunting sweetness in aspect and manner has entered Bohemia.

She lights her candle by his, but, as she is about to leave, the draught again extinguishes it. _Rudolph's_ candle also is blown out, as he hastens to relight hers. The room is dark, save for the moonlight that, over the snow-clad roofs of Paris, steals in through the garret window. _Mimi_ exclaims that she has dropped the key to the door of her room. They search for it. He finds it but slips it into his pocket. Guided by _Mimi's_ voice and movements, he approaches. As she stoops, his hand meets hers. He clasps it.

"Che gelida manina" (How cold your hand), he exclaims with tender solicitude. "Let me warm it into life." He then tells her who he is, in what has become known as the "Racconto di Rodolfo" (Rudolph's Narrative), which, from the gentle and solicitous phrase, "Che gelida manina," followed by the proud exclamation, "Sono un poeta" (I am a poet), leads up to an eloquent avowal of his dreams and fancies. Then comes the girl's charming "Mi chiamano Mimi" (They call me Mimi), in which she tells of her work and how the flowers she embroiders for a living transport her from her narrow room out into the broad fields and meadows. "Mi chiamano Mimi" is as follows:--

[Music]

Her frailty, which one can see is caused by consumption in its early stages, makes her beauty the more appealing to _Rudolph_.

His friends call him from the street below. Their voices draw _Mimi_ to the window. In the moonlight she appears even lovelier to _Rudolph_. "O soave fanciulla" (Thou beauteous maiden), he exclaims, as he takes her to his arms. This is the beginning of the love duet, which, though it be sung in a garret, is as impassioned as any that, in opera, has echoed through the corridors of palaces, or the moonlit colonnades of forests by historic rivers. The theme is quoted here in the key, in which it occurs, like a premonition, a little earlier in the act.

[Music]

The theme of the love duet is used by the composer several times in the course of the opera, and always in association with _Mimi_. Especially in the last act does it recur with poignant effect.

## Act II. A meeting of streets, where they form a square, with shops of

all sorts, and the Café Momus. The square is filled with a happy Christmas eve crowd. Somewhat aloof from this are _Rudolph_ and _Mimi_. _Colline_ stands near the shop of a clothes dealer. _Schaunard_ is haggling with a tinsmith over the price of a horn. _Marcel_ is chaffing the girls who jostle against him in the crowd.

There are street venders crying their wares; citizens, students, and work girls, passing to and fro and calling to each other; people at the café giving orders--a merry whirl, depicted in the music by snatches of chorus, bits of recitative, and an instrumental accompaniment that runs through the scene like a many-coloured thread, and holds the pattern together.

_Rudolph_ and _Mimi_ enter a bonnet shop. The animation outside continues. When the two lovers come out of the shop, _Mimi_ is wearing a new bonnet trimmed with roses. She looks about.

"What is it?" _Rudolph_ asks suspiciously.

"Are you jealous?" asks _Mimi_.

"The man in love is always jealous."

_Rudolph's_ friends are at a table outside the café. _Rudolph_ joins them with _Mimi_. He introduces her to them as one who will make their party complete, for he "will play the poet, while she's the muse incarnate."

_Parpignol_, the toy vender, crosses the square and goes off, followed by children, whose mothers try to restrain them. The toy vender is heard crying his wares in the distance. The quartet of Bohemians, now a quintet through the accession of _Mimi_, order eatables and wine.

Shopwomen, who are going away, look down one of the streets, and exclaim over someone whom they see approaching.

"'Tis Musetta! My, she is gorgeous!--Some stammering old dotard is with her."

_Musetta_ and _Marcel_ have loved, quarrelled, and parted. She has recently put up with the aged but wealthy _Alcindoro de Mittoneaux_, who, when she comes upon the square, is out of breath trying to keep up with her.

Despite _Musetta's_ and _Marcel's_ attempt to appear indifferent to each other's presence, it is plain that they are not so. _Musetta_ has a chic waltz song, "Quando me'n vo soletta per la via" (As through the streets I wander onward merrily), one of the best-known numbers of the score, which she deliberately sings at _Marcel_, to make him aware, without arousing her aged gallant's suspicions, that she still loves him.

[Music]

Feigning that a shoe hurts her, she makes the ridiculous _Alcindoro_ unlatch and remove it, and trot off with it to the cobbler's. She and _Marcel_ then embrace, and she joins the five friends at their table, and the expensive supper ordered by _Alcindoro_ is served to them with their own.

The military tattoo is heard approaching from the distance. There is great confusion in the square. A waiter brings the bill for the Bohemians' order. _Schaunard_ looks in vain for his purse. _Musetta_ comes to the rescue. "Make one bill of the two orders. The gentleman who was with me will pay it."

The patrol enters, headed by a drum major. _Musetta_, being without her shoe, cannot walk, so _Marcel_ and _Colline_ lift her between them to their shoulders, and carry her through the crowd, which, sensing the humour of the situation, gives her an ovation, then swirls around _Alcindoro_, whose foolish, senile figure, appearing from the direction of the cobbler's shop with a pair of shoes for _Musetta_, it greets with jeers. For his gay ladybird has fled with her friends from the _Quartier_, and left him to pay all the bills.

## Act III. A gate to the city of Paris on the Orleans road. A toll house

at the gate. To the left a tavern, from which, as a signboard hangs _Marcel's_ picture of the Red Sea. Several plane trees. It is February. Snow is on the ground. The hour is that of dawn. Scavengers, milk women, truckmen, peasants with produce, are waiting to be admitted to the city. Custom-house officers are seated, asleep, around a brazier. Sounds of revelry are heard from the tavern. These, together with characteristic phrases, when the gate is opened and people enter, enliven the first scene.

Into the small square comes _Mimi_ from the Rue d'Enfer, which leads from the Latin Quarter. She looks pale, distressed, and frailer than ever. A cough racks her. Now and then she leans against one of the bare, gaunt plane trees for support.

A message from her brings _Marcel_ out of the tavern. He tells her he finds it more lucrative to paint signboards than pictures. _Musetta_ gives music lessons. _Rudolph_ is with them. Will not _Mimi_ join them? She weeps, and tells him that _Rudolph_ is so jealous of her she fears they must part. When _Rudolph_, having missed _Marcel_, comes out to look for him, _Mimi_ hides behind a plane tree, from where she hears her lover tell his friend that he wishes to give her up because of their frequent quarrels. "Mimi è una civetta" (Mimi is a heartless creature) is the burden of his song. Her violent coughing reveals her presence. They decide to part--not angrily, but regretfully: "Addio, senza rancor" (Farewell, then, I wish you well), sings _Mimi_.

[Music]

Meanwhile _Marcel_, who has re-entered the tavern, has caught _Musetta_ flirting with a stranger. This starts a quarrel, which brings them out into the street. Thus the music becomes a quartet: "Addio, dolce svegliare" (Farewell, sweet love), sing _Rudolph_ and _Mimi_, while _Marcel_ and _Musetta_ upbraid each other. The temperamental difference between the two women, _Mimi_ gentle and melancholy, _Musetta_ aggressive and disputatious, and the difference in the effect upon the two men, are admirably brought out by the composer. "Viper!" "Toad!" _Marcel_ and _Musetta_ call out to each other, as they separate; while the frail _Mimi_ sighs, "Ah! that our winter night might last forever," and she and _Rudolph_ sing, "Our time for parting's when the roses blow."

## Act IV. The scene is again the attic of the four Bohemians. _Rudolph_

is longing for _Mimi_, of whom he has heard nothing, _Marcel_ for _Musetta_, who, having left him, is indulging in one of her gay intermezzos with one of her wealthy patrons. "Ah, Mimi, tu più" (Ah, Mimi, fickle-hearted), sings _Rudolph_, as he gazes at the little pink bonnet he bought her at the milliner's shop Christmas eve. _Schaunard_ thrusts the water bottle into _Colline's_ hat as if the latter were a champagne cooler. The four friends seek to forget sorrow and poverty in assuming mock dignities and then indulging in a frolic about the attic. When the fun is at its height, the door opens and _Musetta_ enters. She announces that _Mimi_ is dying and, as a last request, has asked to be brought back to the attic, where she had been so happy with _Rudolph_. He rushes out to get her, and supports her feeble and faltering footsteps to the cot, on which he gently lowers her.

She coughs; her hands are very cold. _Rudolph_ takes them in his to warm them. _Musetta_ hands her earrings to _Marcel_, and bids him go out and sell them quickly, then buy a tonic for the dying girl. There is no coffee, no wine. _Colline_ takes off his overcoat, and, having apostrophized it in the "Song of the Coat," goes out to sell it, so as to be able to replenish the larder. _Musetta_ runs off to get her muff for _Mimi_, her hands are still so cold.

_Rudolph_ and the dying girl are now alone. This tragic moment, when their love revives too late, finds expression, at once passionate and exquisite, in the music. The phrases "How cold your hand," "They call me Mimi," from the love scene in the first act, recur like mournful memories.

_Mimi_ whispers of incidents from early in their love. "Te lo rammenti" (Ah! do you remember).

[Music]

_Musetta_ and the others return. There are tender touches in the good offices they would render the dying girl. They are aware before _Rudolph_ that she is beyond aid. In their faces he reads what has happened. With a cry, "Mimi! Mimi!" he falls sobbing upon her lifeless form. _Musetta_ kneels weeping at the foot of the bed. _Schaunard_, overcome, sinks back into a chair. _Colline_ stands dazed at the suddenness of the catastrophe. _Marcel_ turns away to hide his emotion.

Mi chiamano Mimi!

TOSCA

Opera in three acts by Puccini; words by L. Illica and G. Giacosa after the drama, "La Tosca," by Sardou. Produced, Constanzi Theatre, Rome, January 14, 1900; London, Covent Garden, July 12, 1900. Buenos Aires, June 16, 1900. Metropolitan Opera House, New York, February 4, 1901, with Ternina, Cremonini, Scotti, Gilibert (_Sacristan_), and Dufriche (_Angelotti_).

CHARACTERS

FLORIA TOSCA, a celebrated singer _Soprano_ MARIO CAVARADOSSI, a painter _Tenor_ BARON SCARPIA, Chief of Police _Baritone_ CESARE ANGELOTTI _Bass_ A SACRISTAN _Baritone_ SPOLETTA, police agent _Tenor_ SCIARRONE, a gendarme _Bass_ A GAOLER _Bass_ A SHEPHERD BOY _Contralto_

Roberti, executioner; a cardinal, judge, scribe, officer, and sergeant, soldiers, police agents, ladies, nobles, citizens, artisans, etc.

_Time_--June, 1800.

_Place_--Rome.

Three sharp, vigorous chords, denoting the imperious yet sinister and vindictive character of _Scarpia_--such is the introduction to "Tosca."

* * * * *

## Act I. The church of Sant'Andrea della Valle. To the right the

Attavanti chapel; left a scaffolding, dais, and easel. On the easel a large picture covered by a cloth. Painting accessories. A basket.

Enter _Angelotti_. He has escaped from prison and is seeking a hiding place. Looking about, he recognizes a pillar shrine containing an image of the Virgin, and surmounting a receptacle for holy water. Beneath the feet of the image he searches for and discovers a key, unlocks the Attavanti chapel and disappears within it. The _Sacristan_ comes in. He has a bunch of brushes that he has been cleaning, and evidently is surprised not to find _Cavaradossi_ at his easel. He looks into the basket, finds the luncheon in it untouched, and now is sure he was mistaken in thinking he had seen the painter enter.

The Angelus is rung. The _Sacristan_ kneels. _Cavaradossi_ enters. He uncovers the painting--a Mary Magdalen with large blue eyes and masses of golden hair. The _Sacristan_ recognizes in it the portrait of a lady who lately has come frequently to the church to worship. The good man is scandalized at what he considers a sacrilege. _Cavaradossi_, however, has other things to think of. He compares the face in the portrait with the features of the woman he loves, the dark-eyed _Floria Tosca_, famous as a singer. "Recondita armonia di bellezze diverse" (Strange harmony of contrasts deliciously blending), he sings.

Meanwhile the _Sacristan_, engaged in cleaning the brushes in a jug of water, continues to growl over the sacrilege of putting frivolous women into religious paintings. Finally, his task with the brushes over, he points to the basket and asks, "Are you fasting?" "Nothing for me," says the painter. The _Sacristan_ casts a greedy look at the basket, as he thinks of the benefit he will derive from the artist's abstemiousness. The painter goes on with his work. The _Sacristan_ leaves.

_Angelotti_, believing no one to be in the church, comes out of his hiding place. He and _Cavaradossi_ recognize each other. _Angelotti_ has just escaped from the prison in the castle of Sant'Angelo. The painter at once offers to help him. Just then, however, _Tosca's_ voice is heard outside. The painter presses the basket with wine and viands upon the exhausted fugitive, and urges him back into the chapel, while from without _Tosca_ calls more insistently, "Mario!"

Feigning calm, for the meeting with _Angelotti_, who had been concerned in the abortive uprising to make Rome a republic, has excited him, _Cavaradossi_ admits _Tosca_. Jealously she insists that he was whispering with someone, and that she heard footsteps and the swish of skirts. Her lover reassures her, tries to embrace her. Gently she reproves him. She cannot let him kiss her before the Madonna until she has prayed to her image and made an offering. She adorns the Virgin's figure with flowers she has brought with her, kneels in prayer, crosses herself and rises. She tells _Cavaradossi_ to await her at the stage door that night, and they will steal away together to his villa. He is still distrait. When he replies, absent-mindedly, he surely will be there, her comment is, "Thou say'st it badly." Then, beginning the love duet, "Non la sospiri la nostra casetta" (Dost thou not long for our dovecote secluded), she conjures up for him a vision of that "sweet, sweet nest in which we love-birds hide."

For the moment _Cavaradossi_ forgets _Angelotti_; then, however, urges _Tosca_ to leave him, so that he may continue with his work. She is vexed and, when she recognizes in the picture of Mary Magdalen the fair features of the Marchioness Attavanti, she becomes jealous to the point of rage. But her lover soon soothes her. The episode is charming. In fact the libretto, following the Sardou play, unfolds, scene by scene, an always effective drama.

_Tosca_ having departed, _Cavaradossi_ lets _Angelotti_ out of the chapel. He is a brother of the Attavanti, of whom _Tosca_ is so needlessly jealous, and who has concealed a suit of woman's clothing for him under the altar. They mention _Scarpia_--"A bigoted satyr and hypocrite, secretly steeped in vice, yet most demonstratively pious"--the first hint we have in the opera of the relentless character, whose desire to possess _Tosca_ is the mainspring of the drama.

A cannon shot startles them. It is from the direction of the castle and announces the escape of a prisoner--_Angelotti_. _Cavaradossi_ suggests the grounds of his villa as a place of concealment from _Scarpia_ and his police agents, especially the old dried-up well, from which a secret passage leads to a dark vault. It can be reached by a rough path just outside the Attavanti chapel. The painter even offers to guide the fugitive. They leave hastily.

The _Sacristan_ enters excitedly. He has great news. Word has been received that Bonaparte has been defeated. The old man now notices, however, greatly to his surprise, that the painter has gone. Acolytes, penitents, choristers, and pupils of the chapel crowd in from all directions. There is to be a "Te Deum" in honour of the victory, and at evening, in the Farnese palace, a cantata with _Floria Tosca_ as soloist. It means extra pay for the choristers. They are jubilant.

_Scarpia_ enters unexpectedly. He stands in a doorway. A sudden hush falls upon all. For a while they are motionless, as if spellbound. While preparations are making for the "Te Deum," _Scarpia_ orders search made in the Attavanti chapel. He finds a fan which, from the coat-of-arms on it, he recognizes as having been left there by _Angelotti's_ sister. A police agent also finds a basket. As he comes out with it, the _Sacristan_ unwittingly exclaims that it is _Cavaradossi's_, and empty, although the painter had said that he would eat nothing. It is plain to _Scarpia_, who has also discovered in the Mary Magdalen of the picture the likeness to the Marchioness Attavanti, that _Cavaradossi_ had given the basket of provisions to _Angelotti_, and has been an accomplice in his escape.

_Tosca_ comes in and quickly approaches the dais. She is greatly surprised not to find _Cavaradossi_ at work on the picture. _Scarpia_ dips his fingers in holy water and deferentially extends them to _Tosca_. Reluctantly she touches them, then crosses herself. _Scarpia_ insinuatingly compliments her on her religious zeal. She comes to church to pray, not, like certain frivolous wantons--he points to the picture--to meet their lovers. He now produces the fan. "Is this a painter's brush or a mahlstick?" he asks, and adds that he found it on the easel. Quickly, jealously, _Tosca_ examines it, sees the arms of the Attavanti. She had come to tell her lover that, because she is obliged to sing in the cantata she will be unable to meet him that night. Her reward is this evidence, offered by _Scarpia_, that he has been carrying on a love affair with another woman, with whom he probably has gone to the villa. She gives way to an outburst of jealous rage; then, weeping, leaves the chapel, to the gates of which _Scarpia_ gallantly escorts her. He beckons to his agent _Spoletta_, and orders him to trail her and report to him at evening at the Farnese palace.

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Cavalieri as Tosca]

[Illustration: Photo by Mishkin

Scotti as Scarpia]

Church bells are tolling. Intermittently from the castle of Sant'Angelo comes the boom of the cannon. A Cardinal has entered and is advancing to the high altar. The "Te Deum" has begun. _Scarpia_ soliloquizes vindictively: "Va, Tosca! Nel tuo cuor s'annida Scarpia" (Go, Tosca! There is room in your heart for Scarpia).

He pauses to bow reverently as the Cardinal passes by. Still soliloquizing, he exults in his power to send _Cavaradossi_ to execution, while _Tosca_ he will bring to his own arms. For her, he exclaims, he would renounce his hopes of heaven; then kneels and fervently joins in the "Te Deum."

This finale, with its elaborate apparatus, its complex emotions and the sinister and dominating figure of _Scarpia_ set against a brilliant and constantly shifting background, is a stirring and effective climax to the act.

## Act II. The Farnese Palace. _Scarpia's_ apartments on an upper floor.

A large window overlooks the palace courtyard. _Scarpia_ is seated at table supping. At intervals he breaks off to reflect. His manner is anxious. An orchestra is heard from a lower story of the palace, where Queen Caroline is giving an entertainment in honour of the reported victory over Bonaparte. They are dancing, while waiting for _Tosca_, who is to sing in the cantata. _Scarpia_ summons _Sciarrone_ and gives him a letter, which is to be handed to the singer upon her arrival.

_Spoletta_ returns from his mission. _Tosca_ was followed to a villa almost hidden by foliage. She remained but a short time. When she left it, _Spoletta_ and his men searched the house, but could not find _Angelotti_. _Scarpia_ is furious, but is appeased when _Spoletta_ tells him that they discovered _Cavaradossi_, put him in irons, and have brought him with them.

Through the open window there is now heard the beginning of the cantata, showing that _Tosca_ has arrived and is on the floor below, where are the Queen's reception rooms. Upon _Scarpia's_ order there are brought in _Cavaradossi_, _Roberti_, the executioner, and a judge with his clerk. _Cavaradossi's_ manner is indignant, defiant, _Scarpia's_ at first suave. Now and then _Tosca's_ voice is heard singing below. Finally _Scarpia_ closes the window, thus shutting out the music. His questions addressed to _Cavaradossi_ are now put in a voice more severe. He has just asked, "Once more and for the last time," where is _Angelotti_, when _Tosca_, evidently alarmed by the contents of the note received from _Scarpia_, hurries in and, seeing _Cavaradossi_, fervently embraces him. Under his breath he manages to warn her against disclosing anything she saw at the villa.

_Scarpia_ orders that _Cavaradossi_ be removed to an adjoining room and his deposition there taken. _Tosca_ is not aware that it is the torture chamber the door to which has closed upon her lover. With _Tosca_ _Scarpia_ begins his interview quietly, deferentially. He has deduced from _Spoletta's_ report of her having remained but a short time at the villa that, instead of discovering the Attavanti with her lover, as she jealously had suspected, she had found him making plans to conceal _Angelotti_. In this he has just been confirmed by her frankly affectionate manner toward _Cavaradossi_.

At first she answers _Scarpia's_ questions as to the presence of someone else at the villa lightly; then, when he becomes more insistent, her replies show irritation, until, turning on her with "ferocious sternness," he tells her that his agents are attempting to wring a confession from _Cavaradossi_ by torture. Even at that moment a groan is heard. _Tosca_ implores mercy for her lover. Yes, if she will disclose the hiding place of _Angelotti_. Groan after groan escapes from the torture chamber. _Tosca_, overcome, bursts into convulsive sobs and sinks back upon a sofa. _Spoletta_ kneels and mutters a Latin prayer. _Scarpia_ remains cruelly impassive, silent, until, seeing his opportunity in _Tosca's_ collapse, he steps to the door and signals to the executioner, _Roberti_, to apply still greater torture. The air is rent with a prolonged cry of pain. Unable longer to bear her lover's anguish and, in spite of warnings to say nothing, which he has called out to her between his spasms, she says hurriedly and in a stifled voice to _Scarpia_, "The well ... in the garden."

_Cavaradossi_ is borne in from the torture chamber and deposited on the sofa. Kneeling beside him _Tosca_ lavishes tears and kisses upon him. _Sciarrone_, the judge, _Roberti_ and the _Clerk_ go. In obedience to a sign from _Scarpia_, _Spoletta_ and the agents remain behind. Still loyal to his friend, _Cavaradossi_, although racked with pain, asks _Tosca_ if unwittingly in his anguish he has disclosed aught. She reassures him.

In a loud and commanding voice _Scarpia_ says to _Spoletta_: "In the well in the garden--Go _Spoletta_!"

From _Scarpia's_ words _Cavaradossi_ knows that _Tosca_ has betrayed _Angelotti's_ hiding place. He tries to repulse her.

_Sciarrone_ rushes in much perturbed. He brings bad news. The victory they have been celebrating has turned into defeat. Bonaparte has triumphed at Marengo. _Cavaradossi_ is roused to enthusiasm by the tidings. "Tremble, Scarpia, thou butcherly hypocrite," he cries.

It is his death warrant. At _Scarpia's_ command _Sciarrone_ and the agents seize him and drag him away to be hanged.

Quietly seating himself at table, _Scarpia_ invites _Tosca_ to a chair. Perhaps they can discover a plan by which _Cavaradossi_ may be saved. He carefully polishes a wineglass with a napkin, fills it with wine, and pushes it toward her.

"Your price?" she asks, contemptuously.

Imperturbably he fills his glass. She is the price that must be paid for _Cavaradossi's_ life. The horror with which she shrinks from the proposal, her unfeigned detestation of the man putting it forward, make her seem the more fascinating to him. There is a sound of distant drums. It is the escort that will conduct _Cavaradossi_ to the scaffold. _Scarpia_ has almost finished supper. Imperturbably he peels an apple and cuts it in quarters, occasionally looking up and scanning his chosen victim's features.

Distracted, not knowing whither or to whom to turn, _Tosca_ now utters the famous "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore, non feci mai male ad anima viva":

(Music and love--these have I lived for, Nor ever have I harmed a living being....

In this, my hour of grief and bitter tribulation, O, Heavenly Father, why hast Thou forsaken me),

The "Vissi d'arte" justly is considered the most beautiful air in the repertoire of modern Italian opera. It is to passages of surpassing eloquence like this that Puccini owes his fame, and his operas are indebted for their lasting power of appeal.

Beginning quietly, "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,"

[Music]

it works up to the impassioned, heart-rending outburst of grief with which it comes to an end.

[Music]

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Emma Eames as Tosca]

[Illustration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Caruso as Mario in "Tosca"]

A knock at the door. _Spoletta_ comes to announce that _Angelotti_, on finding himself discovered, swallowed poison. "The other," he adds, meaning _Cavaradossi_, "awaits your decision." The life of _Tosca's_ lover is in the hands of the man who has told her how she may save him. Softly _Scarpia_ asks her, "What say you?" She nods consent; then, weeping for the shame of it, buries her head in the sofa cushions.

_Scarpia_ says it is necessary for a mock execution to be gone through with, before _Tosca_ and _Cavaradossi_ can flee Rome. He directs _Spoletta_ that the execution is to be simulated--"as we did in the case of Palmieri.--You understand."

"Just like Palmieri," _Spoletta_ repeats with emphasis, and goes.

_Scarpia_ turns to _Tosca_. "I have kept my promise." She, however, demands safe conduct for _Cavaradossi_ and herself. _Scarpia_ goes to his desk to write the paper. With trembling hand _Tosca_, standing at the table, raises to her lips the wineglass filled for her by _Scarpia_. As she does so she sees the sharp, pointed knife with which he peeled and quartered the apple. A rapid glance at the desk assures her that he still is writing. With infinite caution she reaches out, secures possession of the knife, conceals it on her person. _Scarpia_ has finished writing. He folds up the paper, advances toward _Tosca_ with open arms to embrace her.

"_Tosca_, at last thou art mine!"

With a swift stroke of the knife, she stabs him full in the breast.

"It is thus that _Tosca_ kisses!"

He staggers, falls. Ineffectually he strives to rise; makes a final effort; falls backward; dies.

Glancing back from time to time at _Scarpia's_ corpse, _Tosca_ goes to the table, where she dips a napkin in water and washes her fingers. She arranges her hair before a looking-glass, then looks on the desk for the safe-conduct. Not finding it there, she searches elsewhere for it, finally discovers it clutched in _Scarpia's_ dead fingers, lifts his arm, draws out the paper from between the fingers, and lets the arm fall back stiff and stark, as she hides the paper in her bosom. For a brief moment she surveys the body, then extinguishes the lights on the supper table.

About to leave, she sees one of the candles on the desk still burning. With a grace of solemnity, she lights with it the other candle, places one candle to the right, the other to the left of _Scarpia's_ head, takes down a crucifix from the wall, and, kneeling, places it on the dead man's breast. There is a roll of distant drums. She rises; steals out of the room.

In the opera, as in the play, which was one of Sarah Bernhardt's triumphs, it is a wonderful scene--one of the greatest in all drama. Anyone who has seen it adequately acted, knows what it has signified in the success of the opera, even after giving Puccini credit for "Vissi d'arte" and an expressive accompaniment to all that transpires on the stage.

## Act III. A platform of the Castle Sant'Angelo. Left, a casement with a

table, a bench, and a stool. On the table are a lantern, a huge register book, and writing materials. Suspended on one of the walls are a crucifix and a votive lamp. Right, a trap door opening on a flight of steps that lead to the platform from below. The Vatican and St. Paul's are seen in the distance. The clear sky is studded with stars. It is just before dawn. The jangle of sheep bells is heard, at first distant, then nearer. Without, a shepherd sings his lay. A dim, grey light heralds the approach of dawn.

The firing party conducting _Cavaradossi_ ascends the steps through the trap door and is received by a jailer. From a paper handed him by the sergeant in charge of the picket, the jailer makes entries in the register, to which the sergeant signs his name, then descends the steps followed by the picket. A bell strikes. "You have an hour," the jailer tells _Cavaradossi_. The latter craves the favour of being permitted to write a letter. It being granted, he begins to write, but soon loses himself in memories of _Tosca_. "E lucevan le stelle ed olezzava la terra" (When the stars were brightly shining, and faint perfumes the air pervaded)--a tenor air of great beauty.

[Music]

He buries his face in his hands. _Spoletta_ and the sergeant conduct _Tosca_ up the steps to the platform, and point out to her where she will find _Cavaradossi_. A dim light still envelopes the scene as with mystery. _Tosca_, seeing her lover, rushes up to him and, unable to speak for sheer emotion, lifts his hands and shows him--herself and the safe-conduct.

"At what price?" he asks.

Swiftly she tells him what _Scarpia_ demanded of her, and how, having consented, she thwarted him by slaying him with her own hand. Lovingly he takes her hands in his. "O dolci mani mansuete e pure" (Oh! gentle hands, so pitiful and tender). Her voice mingles with his in love and gratitude for deliverance.

"Amaro sol per te m'era il morire" (The sting of death, I only felt for thee, love).

[Music]

She informs him of the necessity of going through a mock execution. He must fall naturally and lie perfectly still, as if dead, until she calls to him. They laugh over the ruse. It will be amusing. The firing party arrives. The sergeant offers to bandage _Cavaradossi's_ eyes. The latter declines. He stands with his back to the wall. The soldiers take aim. _Tosca_ stops her ears with her hands so that she may not hear the explosion. The officer lowers his sword. The soldiers fire. _Cavaradossi_ falls.

"How well he acts it!" exclaims _Tosca_.

A cloth is thrown over _Cavaradossi_. The firing party marches off. _Tosca_ cautions her lover not to move yet. The footsteps of the firing party die away--"Now get up." He does not move. Can he not hear? She goes nearer to him. "Mario! Up quickly! Away!--Up! up! Mario!"

She raises the cloth. To the last _Scarpia_ has tricked her. He had ordered a real, not a mock execution. Her lover lies at her feet--a corpse.

There are cries from below the platform. _Scarpia's_ murder has been discovered. His myrmidons are hastening to apprehend her. She springs upon the parapet and throws herself into space.

[Illustration: Farrar as Tosca]

MADAMA BUTTERFLY

MADAM BUTTERFLY

Opera in two acts, by Giacomo Puccini, words after the story of John Luther Long and the drama of David Belasco by L. Illica and G. Giacosa. English version by Mrs. R.H. Elkin. Produced unsuccessfully, La Scala, Milan, February 17, 1904, with Storchio, Zenatello, and De Luca, conductor Cleofante Campanini. Slightly revised, but with Act II divided into two distinct parts, at Brescia, May 28, 1904, with Krusceniski, Zenatello, and Bellati, when it scored a success. Covent Garden, London, July 10, 1905, with Destinn, Caruso, and Scotti, conductor Campanini. Washington, D.C., October, 1906, in English, by the Savage Opera Company, and by the same company, Garden Theatre, New York, November 12, 1906, with Elsa Szamozy, Harriet Behne, Joseph F. Sheehan, and Winifred Goff; Metropolitan Opera House, New York, February 11, 1907, with Farrar (_Butterfly_), Homer (_Suzuki_), Caruso (_Pinkerton_), Scotti (_Sharpless_), and Reiss (_Goro_).

CHARACTERS

MADAM BUTTERFLY (Cio-Cio-San) _Soprano_ SUZUKI (her servant) _Mezzo-Soprano_ KATE PINKERTON _Mezzo-Soprano_ B.F. PINKERTON, Lieutenant, U.S.N. _Tenor_ SHARPLESS (U.S. Consul at Nagasaki) _Baritone_ GORO (a marriage broker) _Tenor_ PRINCE YAMADORI _Baritone_ THE BONZE (_Cio-Cio-San's uncle_) _Bass_ YAKUSIDE _Baritone_ THE IMPERIAL COMMISSIONER _Bass_ THE OFFICIAL REGISTRAR } _Baritone_ CIO-CIO-SAN'S MOTHER } Members of _Mezzo-Soprano_ THE AUNT } the Chorus _Mezzo-Soprano_ THE COUSIN } _Soprano_ TROUBLE (_Cio-Cio-San's Child_)

_Cio-Cio-San's_ relations and friends. Servants.

_Time_--Present day.

_Place_--Nagasaki.

[Illustration: Photo by Hall

"Madame Butterfly," Act I

(Francis Maclennan, Renée Vivienne, and Thomas Richards)]

Although "Madama Butterfly" is in two acts, the division of the second

## act into two parts by the fall of the curtain, there also being an

instrumental introduction to part second, practically gives the opera three acts.

## Act I. There is a prelude, based on a Japanese theme. This theme runs

through the greater part of the act. It is employed as a background and as a connecting link, with the result that it imparts much exotic tone colour to the scenes. The prelude passes over into the first act without a break.

_Lieutenant B.F. Pinkerton_, U.S.N., is on the point of contracting a "Japanese marriage" with _Cio-Cio-San_, whom her friends call _Butterfly_. At the rise of the curtain _Pinkerton_ is looking over a little house on a hill facing the harbour. This house he has leased and is about to occupy with his Japanese wife. _Goro_, the nakodo or marriage broker, who has arranged the match, also has found the house for him and is showing him over it, enjoying the American's surprise at the clever contrivances found in Japanese house construction. Three Japanese servants are in the house, one of whom is _Suzuki_, _Butterfly's_ faithful maid.

_Sharpless_, the American Consul at Nagasaki, arrives. In the chat which follows between the two men it becomes apparent that _Sharpless_ looks upon the step _Pinkerton_ is about to take with disfavour. He argues that what may be a mere matter of pastime to the American Naval lieutenant, may have been taken seriously by the Japanese girl and, if so, may prove a matter of life or death with her. _Pinkerton_ on the other hand laughs off his friend's fears and, having poured out drinks for both, recklessly pledges his real American wife of the future. Further discussion is interrupted by the arrival of the bride with her relatives and friends.

After greetings have been exchanged, the Consul on conversing with _Butterfly_ becomes thoroughly convinced that he was correct in cautioning _Pinkerton_. For he discovers that she is not contemplating the usual Japanese marriage of arrangement, but, actually being in love with _Pinkerton_, is taking it with complete seriousness. She has even gone to the extent, as she confides to _Pinkerton_, of secretly renouncing her religious faith, the faith of her forefathers, and embracing his, before entering on her new life with him. This step, when discovered by her relatives, means that she has cut herself loose from all her old associations and belongings, and entrusts herself and her future entirely to her husband.

Minor officials whose duty it is to see that the marriage contract, even though it be a "Japanese marriage," is signed with proper ceremony, arrive. In the midst of drinking and merry-making on the part of all who have come to the wedding, they are startled by fierce imprecations from a distance and gradually drawing nearer. A weird figure, shouting and cursing wildly, appears upon the scene. It is _Butterfly's_ uncle, the _Bonze_ (Japanese priest). He has discovered her renunciation of faith, now calls down curses upon her head for it, and insists that all her relatives, even her immediate family, renounce her. _Pinkerton_ enraged at the disturbance turns them out of the house. The air shakes with their imprecations as they depart. _Butterfly_ is weeping bitterly, but _Pinkerton_ soon is enabled to comfort her. The act closes with a passionate love scene.

The Japanese theme, which I have spoken of as forming the introduction to the act, besides, the background to the greater part of it, in fact up to the scene with the _Bonze_, never becomes monotonous because it is interrupted by several other musical episodes. Such are the short theme to which _Pinkerton_ sings "Tutto è pronto" (All is ready), and the skippy little theme when _Goro_ tells _Pinkerton_ about those who will be present at the ceremony. When _Pinkerton_ sings, "The whole world over, on business or pleasure the Yankee travels," a motif based on the "Star-Spangled Banner," is heard for the first time.

In the duet between _Pinkerton_ and _Sharpless_, which _Pinkerton_ begins with the words, "Amore o grillo" (Love or fancy), _Sharpless's_ serious argument and its suggestion of the possibility of _Butterfly's_ genuine love for _Pinkerton_ are well brought out in the music. When _Butterfly_ and her party arrive, her voice soars above those of the others to the strains of the same theme which occurs as a climax to the love duet at the end of the act and which, in the course of the opera, is heard on other occasions so intimately associated with herself and her emotions that it may be regarded as a motif, expressing the love she has conceived for _Pinkerton_.

Full of feeling is the music of her confession to _Pinkerton_ that she has renounced the faith of her forefathers, in order to be a fit wife for the man she loves:--"Ieri son salita" (Hear what I would tell you). An episode, brief but of great charm, is the chorus "Kami! O Kami! Let's drink to the newly married couple." Then comes the interruption of the cheerful scene by the appearance of the _Bonze_, which forms a dramatic contrast.

It is customary with Puccini to create "atmosphere" of time and place through the medium of the early scenes of his operas. It is only necessary to recall the opening episodes in the first acts of "La Bohème" and "Tosca." He has done the same thing in "Madam Butterfly," by the employment of the Japanese theme already referred to, and by the crowded episodes attending the arrival of _Butterfly_ and the performance of the ceremony. These episodes are full of action and colour, and distinctly Japanese in the impression they make. Moreover, they afford the only opportunity throughout the entire opera to employ the chorus upon the open stage. It is heard again in the second act, but only behind the scenes and humming in order to give the effect of distance.

[Illustration: Photo by White

Farrar as Cio-Cio-San in "Madama Butterfly"]

The love scene between _Pinkerton_ and _Butterfly_ is extended. From its beginning, "Viene la sera" (Evening is falling),

[Music]

to the end, its interest never flags. It is full of beautiful melody charged with sentiment and passion, yet varied with lighter passages, like _Butterfly's_ "I am like the moon's little goddess"; "I used to think if anyone should want me"; and the exquisite, "Vogliatemi bene" (Ah, love me a little). There is a beautiful melody for _Pinkerton_, "Love, what fear holds you trembling." The climax of the love duet is reached in two impassioned phrases:--"Dolce notte! Quante stelle" (Night of rapture, stars unnumbered),

[Music]

and "Oh! Quanti occhi fisi, attenti" (Oh, kindly heavens).

[Music]

## Act II.