THE STANDARD OPERAGLASS

CHARLES ANNESLEY

EURYANTHE

Grand romantic Opera by C. M. von Weber

Text by Helmina von Chezy

     This opera has not had the success of Oberon or Freischütz, a fact to be attributed to the weakness of its libretto, and not to its music, which is so grand and noble that it cannot but fill the hearer with admiration and pleasure.
     The overture is one of the finest pieces ever written, and the choruses and solos are equally worthy of admiraton.
     The plot is as follows:
     Adolar, Count of Nevers and Rethel, is betrothed to Euryanthe of Savoy, and the wedding is to take place, when one day, in the King’s presence, Lysiart, Count of Forest and Beaujolais, suggests that all women are accessible to seduction. He provokes Adolar so much that he succeeds in making him stake his lands and everything he possesses on his bride’s fidelity. Lysiart, on the other hand, promises to bring a token of Euryanthe’s favor.
     In the following scene we find Euryanthe in the company of Eglantine de Puiset. This lady is a prisoner who has taken refuge in the castle of Nevers, and has ingratiated herself so much with Euryanthe that the latter tenderly befriends the false woman. Asking Euryanthe why she always chooses for her recreation the dreary spot of the park where Adolar’s sister Emma lies buried, she is told by her, in confidence, that she prays for Emma, who poisoned herself after her lover’s death in battle. Her soul could find no rest until the ring which contained the venom should be wet with the tears of a faithful and innocent maid, shed in her extreme need. No sooner has Euryanthe betrayed her bridegroom’s secret than she repents doing so, foreboding ill to come. Lysiart enters to escort her to the marriage festival, but he vainly tries to ensnare her innocence, when Eglantine comes to his rescue. She loves Adolar, and, her passion not being returned, she has sworn vengeance. Stealing the fatal ring from the sepulchre, she gives it to Lysiart as a token of Euryanthe’s faithlessness, and Lysiart, after having brought Euryanthe to Adolar, shows the ring in presence of the whole court, pretending to have received it from Euryanthe. The poor maiden denies it, but as Lysiart reveals the mystery of the grave, she cannot deny that she has broken her promise of never telling the secret.
     Adolar, full of despair, surrenders everything to his rival, leading Euryanthe, whom he believes to be false, into the wilderness to kill her. A serpent is about to sting him, when his bride throws herself between. He kills the reptile, but, after her sacrifice, he is unable to raise his arm against her and so leaves her to her fate.
     She is found by the King and his hunters, and to them she relates the whole story of her error of confiding in the false Eglantine. The King promises to inform Adolar and take’s her back with him. Meanwhile Adolar, returning once more to his grounds, is seen by his people. One of them, Bertha, tells him that Euryanthe is innocent, and that Eglantine, who is about to marry Lysiart and to reign as supreme mistress over the country, has been the culprit.
     Eglantine, appearing in bridal attire, led by Lysiart, suddenly becomes a prey to fearful remorse; she sees Emma’s ghost, and in her anxiety reveals the whole plot. Her bridegroom stabs her in his fury, but is at once seized by order of the King, who just then comes upon the scene. Adolar, believing Euryanthe dead, demands a meeting with Lysiart. Bnt the King declares that the murderer must incur the penalty of the laws. He renders up to Adolar his possessions and his bride, who the more easily pardons her repentant bridegroom that she has saved his sister’s soul by the innocent tears of her misfortune.

THE EVANGELMANN

A Musical Drama in two acts

with Text and Music by Wilhelm Kienzl

     The author has learnt a great deal since the days in which he composed Urvasi. His music has become more original and more independent of great models. The new opera, while not so poetical, is eminently touching and true; the text, founded on fact, runs smoothly and is cleverly done, the verses being well adapted to the music. Like Verga’s Cavalleria, the subject is such as to be impressive even without music.
     It is necessary to explain the title of this opera, which signifies a man who goes about reciting biblical verse, after the fashion of street singers. This means of earning a livelihood is unknown in Germany, but forms a specialty in Austria.
     The music of the first act puts one in mind of the Meistersingers; as a whole it is very captivating, fresh and drastic, especially during the ninepin scene. The orchestra predominates, but there are truly poetic airs, which will linger as much in the heart as in the ear of the hearer. Such is: “O sweet days of my youth,” and in the last act: “Blessed are they who are persecuted,” from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. Another charming bit of music is the children’s waltz, in which the composer has paraphrased one of Lanner’s well-known waltz motives.
     The first scene is laid in the village of St. Othmar, in Austria, or rather in the court of the convent of the Benedictines of that place. Mathias, a young clerk of the convent, has an interview with Martha, the niece and ward of Frederic Engel, the rich warden of the convent. John, Mathias’s elder brother and the village schoolmaster, sees them together. Being in love with the girl himself, he warns her uncle of his brother’s courtship and excites his wrath against the lovers, so that Engel, coming across the young people, gruffly tells Mathias that he has already chosen a rich bridegroom for his ward. In vain, the lovers beseech the old man’s s pity, for his anger only waxes stronger, and he goes so far as’ to discharge Mathias, warning him to leave the place altogether. Martha, left alone, bemourns her guardian’s hardness, and John, thinking to profit by the occasion, approaches her and asks for her hand. But he is so decidedly rejected by Martha that he swears to have his revenge.
     Meanwhile the evening approaches, and the country folk come to the inn next to the convent to play their game of ninepins. During this very animated scene Mathias finds Magdalen, his sweetheart’s friend, whom lie entreats to ‘take a message to Martha, asking her to meet him at eleven o’clock in the bower near the skittleground for a last farewell. John hears this and when night sets in, and the gates of the convent are closed, lie remains outside alone, hiding behind the barn floor. When the clock strikes eleven, Martha and Mathias approach the bower. They swear to remain true to each other, come what may. Their tender words excite John’s jealousy to the utmost, and while the lovers are engrossed with their sorrow and make plans for the future, he sets fire to the barn floor. Soon the flames leap up to the sky, but the lovers are oblivious of everything, till they hear the watchman’s cry of fire. Mathias persuades Martha to hide herself; so he is found alone on the place and seized by the crowd and brought before the warden. Engel at once jumps to the conclusion that he has been the incendiary, to revenge himself for Engel’s hard-heartedness, and, despite his protestations of innocence, Mathias is put in chains and carried away, while Martha, who comes out from her hiding-place, falls back in a swoon, after proclaiming his innocence.
     The second act takes place thirty years later in Vienna. Magdalen sits under a lime-tree, in the court of an old house, and muses sadly over days gone by. After long, lonely years, she has found the schoolmaster John sick unto death, and now finds comfort in nursing him. Nothing has ever been heard of Mathias again, and she wonders sadly what has become of him. Children throng into the court, they dance around the lime-tree, while an old organ grinder plays pretty waltz tunes to their steps. While they are dancing, an Evangelimann comes into the court. He reads and sings to the children the verses from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, and teaches them to repeat the melody. When they are able to sing it faultlessly, he faintly asks for a drink of water, which Magdalen brings him. She asks him whence he comes, and when he tells her that his father’s house stood in St. Othmar, she recognizes in him her old friend Mathias. Then he relates his sad story, how he lay imprisoned for twenty years, the real incendiary having never been discovered. When he was set free, he returned home, only to find that his bride had drowned herself. All his efforts to earn a livelihood were fruitless; nobody would employ the convict, until he was at last obliged to become an Evangelimann, and wandered from place to place, preaching the gospel to the poor, and getting such small bounties they could afford to give. Exhausted by hunger and overcome by sad remembrances, Mathias sinks down on the bench half fainting, but is revived by bread and broth brought to him by Magdalen, who earnestly entreats him to return soon, and to bring comfort to the sick man she is nursing.
     The last scene takes place a day hater in John’s sick-room. He is lying on a couch, a prey to bitter thoughts and pangs of conscience, when his brother’s voice reaches his ear from below, and dimly awakens sweet memories in him. He bids Magdalen to fetch the singer, and when the latter enters he feels so drawn to him, without recognizing his brother, that he begs leave to unburden his soul to him.
     Mathias, soon recognizing his brother, is about to fold him in his arms, but John despairingly shrinks from him, while confessing his guilt in broken words and beseeching his forgiveness. The unfortunate Mathias, whose life has been so utterly ruined by his brother, battles fiercely with his natural feelings. But when he sees the wretched John on his knees before him, so broken down and exhausted, he finally forgives him. With a last faint gasp of thanks, John falls back and dies, while Magdalen prays, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us.” Outside the children’s voices are heard once more: “Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness’ sake; for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

ERNANI

Tragic Opera in four acts by Giuseppe VERDI

Text by COUNT HAVE

     The story of this opera was taken from Victor Hugo’s tragedy "Hernani." It was received with enthusiasm when first presented in Venice in 1844, though later productions gave the composer much trouble on account of the hostility of Victor Hugo, who demanded that the libretto should be changed. Later the poet was appeased and the opera became immensely popular. The music is full of that genuine passionate warmth and dramatic power which characterizes all the works of this composer.
     The action takes place in Aragon, Spain, in the year 1519. Ernani, the son of the Duke of Segorbia, has been outlawed by the King, and has become chief of a band of noted brigands. He is deeply in love with Elvira, a noble Spanish lady, and on hearing that she is betrothed to Don Gomez de Silva, an aged grandee of Spain, determines to intervene, and to carry her off if possible.
     During the preparations for the marriage, Don Carlos, King of Spain, enters Elvira’s chamber, and, declaring his passion, tries to steal her away from the castle. Her cries for help bring Ernani and Silva to her rescue, and the latter, after challenging both of his rivals, recognizes his King, and, falling on his knees, craves pardon,’ which is granted.
     As the wedding nuptials are about to be solemnized, Ernani makes his appearance, disguised as a pilgrim , and, believing Elvira to be false to him, discards his disguise in the presence of Silva, and scornfully demands to be given up to the King. Silva at first refuses to betray his guest, but, on finding that Ernani and Elvira still love each other, swears to be revenged.
     The King again appears, and demands the arrest of Silva if he does not give up Ernani, but Elvira pleads so strongly for them that he relents and takes her away as a hostage of the faith of Silva. Silva at once challenges Ernani, who refuses to fight with his aged protector, but promises to give himself up to the King if he may be permitted to see Elvira again before he dies. On hearing that the King has carried her off, Ernani determines on revenge, and promises Silva that he will forfeit his life at any time if he will assist him in his vengeance. To bind the contract Ernani presents him with a horn, which he is to sound when he wishes the promise fulfilled.
     The King hears of the plot against his life and conceals himself in the Catacombs in Aquisgrana, knowing that the assassins are to gather there. During the meeting of the conspirators the King suddenly appears in their midst, condemning all the commoners to prison and the nobles to execution. Ernani, by right of birth, demands to be sentenced with the nobles, but the King, wishing to reign by love rather than by fear, magnanimously pardons all the conspirators, and consents to the union of Ernani and Elvira.
     This enrages the jealous Silva, who appears in disguise at the wedding festivities, and blows a blast upon the fatal horn. Ernani, true to his promise, stabs himself to the heart, and dies in the arms of Elvira.

L’ELISIR D’AMORE

An Italian Buffa in two acts by Goëtano Donizetti

Text by Romani

     This graceful little opera was first presented in Milan in 1832. It is bright and gay in its construction, and the music throughout is me­lodious and pleasing, especially the charming romauza in the second act (“Una furtiva lagrima”), which is one of the most popular songs in light opera.
     Adina, a wealthy and capricious young coun­try girl, is devotedly loved by Nemorino, a handsome, but poor, young peasant. She looks rather favorably upon his suit until Belcore, the dashing sergeant of the village garrison, begins to pay her attention. Nemorino, in despair at the success of his rival, visits Doctor Dulcamara, a quack physician, and purchases from him the Elixir of Love, by which he hopes to win back Adina. The mountebank gives him a bottle of Bordeaux wine, which the simple peasant drinks at a gulp, and, becoming typsy, so en-rages Adina, that she promises to marry Belcore on the morrow. The gallant sergeant un-expectedly receiving orders to leave the village, urges Adina to marry him immediately. Nemorino is in despair upon hearing this, for the Elixir was not to take effect until the following day. lie therefore goes again to the mountebank, imploring him for another vial, but having no money the Doctor refuses to supply him.
     In despair, Nemorino enlists in the army on the advice of Belcore, thereby securing the pay of twenty crowns, with which he purchases a second bottle of the famous Elixir.
     In the meantime the maidens in the village have learned that Nemorino’s rich uncle has died, leaving him all his property. They crowd about him, showing the greatest respect and attention, which Nemorino naturally attributes to the Elixir, knowing nothing of the death of his uncle. Adina seeks Doctor Dulcamara, and hearing from him of Nemorino’s devotion, is filled with remorse. She goes at once to Belcore, and announcing her change of mind, pays off Nemorino’s ransom, which releases him from his obligations to the sergeant. She then bestows her hand upon her happy lover, who is. firm in his belief that he owes his good fortune to the magic influence of the Elixir of Love.

ELECTRA

Tragicopera in one act by Richard Strauss

     This opera, by Richard Strauss, produced after much preparation by Mr. Oscar Hammerstein, at the Manhattan Opera House, in the season of 1909-10, aroused such a difference of opinion as to its musical merits, that critics in England, Germany, and America carried on quite an animated discussion for many weeks. Mr. Bernard Shaw praised it highly; Mr. Ernest Newman condemned it. Be opinion, however, what it may, the opera is remarkably effective in its dramatic power, and an astonishing musical feat. It was first performed in Dresden, on January 25, 1909.
    The text of the opera is by Hugo Von Hofmannsthal, a young Austrian poet. It deals with the tragic incident in Electra’s life which makes her the avenger of her father’s death on both her mother, Clytemnestra, and on her mother’s paramour, Ægisthus. The entire action takes place in one act in an inner court of the palace of the King at Mycene.
     When the curtain rises serving-women at the well are discussing Electra’s whereabouts. As one of them remarks that it is the hour when she cries out upon her father, Electra comes running out of a door and springs back like a wild beast into its lair. The servants continue their remarks, telling how Electra lives and how she is behaving madly towards them. The overseer now comes in and dismisses them into the palace, he going with them.
     Electra then comes out of the house. She appears in the red flickerings of light which fall through the branches of the fig trees. She bewails her father’s loss in a speech of passionate feeling, and swears to avenge his death with the help of Orestes, her brother. When she and he and her sister Chrysothemis shall have done this, then the three of them will dance about their graves. Chrysothemis enters and looks anxiously for Electra, calling on her softly. Electra turns round like a night wanderer and staggers as she sees her sister’s face. She asks Chrysothemis what she wants, and Chrysothemis tells her that Clytemnestra and AEgis-thus intend to shut Electra up in a dark tower. Electra laughs and is not afraid. Chrysothemis blames Electra for what is happening to them both. But for her hate and immitigable mind they would have let them out of this prison. She will not sleep in the place every night until she come to die. She will endure no more to herd with menials. Electra answers her that she will wrest the axe out of her mother’s hand and kill her. She it was who, from her breast, sent bad dreams to their mother. She will yet drive her before her and kill her. They hear a noise as of some people approaching, and Chrysothemis fears it is her mother coming. She begs Electra not to cross her mother’s path if only hut for this one day. Electra answers that she has a mind to speak to her mother as she has never spoken to her before.
     Against the brightly lighted corridor shuffles and clatters a hurrying procession. There is a tugging and hauling of beasts, a smothered chiding, a quickly stifled cry, the swish of a whip, a pulling back and staggering forward. Chrysothemis, in fear, leaves by the door of the court, and Clytemnestra appears in the wide window. She leans on her waiting-woman, her sallow and bloated face looking whiter above her scarlet dress in the glare of the torches. She is bedecked all over with precious stones and talismans. Electra stands rigid and still, her face turned toward the window. Clytemnestra suddenly opens her eyes, and, trembling with anger, points with her staff at Electra. She rails at her for her conduct; she calls her a serpent rearing its tongue at her, and calls on the immortal gods asking them why is this done to her. A splendidly powerful and dramatic dialogue follows between Electra and her mother, in which Clytemnestra, with royal dignity, and Electra, with terrible hate, lay bare the tragedy of Agamemnon’s death by the hand of Ægisthus. Electra, to the speechless horror of her mother, - pictures to her the terrible state in which she must live with Ægisthus. Mated to this man, she cries, the bitter gall-drops must fall on her heart. She, Electra, stands before her so that she may see in her face the mingled features of her father and her own. Her silent presence has brought to nought her last word, and her soul has hanged itself within its self-slung noose. They stand eye to eye, Electra in the wildest intoxication, Clytemnestra breathing horribly with fear. At this moment a waiting-woman comes running and whispers some words into Clytemnestra’s ear. At first Clytemnestra seems not to understand, but the waiting-woman repeating the message, they both hurriedly run into the house. Electra wonders what was said to Clytemnestra, and Chrysothemis comes running to the door of the court, crying aloud that Orestes is dead. The news renders Electra almost speechless. She had been expecting Orestes, for whom she had sent, to help her in carrying out her scheme for vengeance. She will not helieve the news, but when there seems to be no doubt about it she tells her sister that the work must now fall on the two left. She and Chrysothemis must kill "the woman and her husband." Chrysothemis is speechless with horror at the idea of killing her mother, and thinks Electra is beside herself. Electra tells her she is strong, and with a knife or an axe she could easily do it. Chrysothemis recoils in horror and will have nothing to do with Electra’s plans. Electra begs on her knees for her help, but Chrysothemis says she simply cannot. When she runs away from Electra through an inner door, Electra sends a curse after her.
     Realizing at last that she alone must do the deed, she says, "Then, alone!" She begins to dig hurriedly at the wall of the house, like an animal. As she goes on digging, Orestes stands at the door of the court and sees her. He had been banished from the court from fear of what he might do. Clytemnestra has been living in daily dread of his return. What the waiting-woman had whispered into Clytemnestra’s ear was the information that two messengers, an old man and a youth, had arrived in the palace bringing the news that Orestes was dead. It was this news that had made Clytemnestra’s face take on its glad look when she left Electra. Orestes stands now looking at his sister. She sees him, hut does not recognize him in his disguise. She tells him she has nothing to give him, but he tells her he is come with another with an errand for a lady. She begs him to go away and leave her. He is a herald of misfortune. When, later, he tells her that Orestes lives, she flings herself round and cries aloud to know where he is. When he discovers himself, she flings herself into his arms, sobbing. Eagerly she returns to her thoughts of vengeance, and asks him if he will do it. Yes, the doer shall he he, he answers. Orestes leaves later with his foster-father, who is the old messenger, to perform the act of revenge. Electra is left alone in intolerable suspense. She runs to and fro before the door, with bowed head, like a wild beast in its cage. Suddenly from within is heard the cry of Clytemnestra. Electra shrieks like a demon. ,, Strike again! " she cries. A second cry is heard from within, and Chrysothemis enters from the servants’ door and sees Electra standing with her back against the door. Chrysothemis is followed by the servants and they beg her to let them pass through, to find out what is happening. A waiting-woman runs out to bring help, but she quickly returns, announcing the coming of Ægisthus. Ægisthus enters, demanding why it is there is no one to light the way for him. Electra takes the torch out of the ring, and, running toward him, bows before him. She offers to light him. Then, circling him in a weird dance, she makes him a deep bow as he goes into the house. He has barely got into the house when his cry is heard, shouting, “Murder! Murder!” and his face appears at a little window. He is dragged away, but he reappears, asking if no one hears him. “Agamemnon hears you!” cries Electra, drawing herself up. As Ægisthus is again dragged away, crying, “Woe is me!”" Electra stands hack, breathing fearfully, her face turned toward the door. Women come running wildly out, Chrysothemis among them. She begs Electra to come away with her, because Orestes has done it. The women leave, while the noise without increases.
     Chrysothemis is alone with Electra, who lies crouching on the threshold. She cries shriekingly to Electra to listen to the weeping. Electra raises herself and steps down, her head thrown back like a Maenad.
     She lifts her knees, stretches out her arms, and begins her incredible dance. Chrysothemis, who appears against the door with a throng of men and women, cries out against Electra. Electra bids them be silent and dance. She bears the burden of joy, she cries, and she will dance before them there. Only one thing remains for all who are as happy as she is — to be silent and dance. She does a few more steps of tense triumph, and falls a-heap. Chrysothemis runs to her, but Electra lies motionless.

L’ENFANT PRODIGUE
(the Prodigal Son)

One-act interlude by Claude Debussy

The text is anonymous.

     This was first presented in 1910 at London.
     As the sun rises Simeon and Leah mourn their long-lost prodigal son, Azael. Youths and maidens bring gifts of fruits and flowers, when Azael enters. He is in tattered raiment, repentant, and utterly exhausted from wandering in a famished condition. He sinks to the ground. Both father and mother forgive him, and kneel down to render thanks to God for his safe return.

L’ETOILE DU NORD

A three-act Opera by Giacomo Meyerbeer

Text hy Camille Meunier

     This opera was first performed in Paris in 1854. The scene is laid in Russia and Finland.
     Act I. The czar, Peter the Great, is disguised as a carpenter, and as such he meets and loves Catharine, who is on the point of donning male attire to serve in the army in place of her brother George.
     Act II. At the Russian camp. Catharine, now a recruit in a dragoon regiment, discovers a plot to murder the czar. She betrays the secret and thus enables the czar to spoil the plot and seize the conspirators.
     Act III. This happens at the palace of the czar. Peter longs for Catharine whom he has not met of late and thinks she must be dead, for his inquiries have been in vain. But at last he has news that she is alive but insane. The czar sends for her. To please her be has his garden laid out so as to resemble the one he tended in Viborg, Finland, where he first met her. He also puts on his carpenter’s costume, and as she sees him she falls into his arms. He makes her his wife.