THE STANDARD OPERAGLASS

CHARLES ANNESLEY

IDLE HANS
(DER FAULE HANS)

Opera in one act by A. Ritter

Text after a poetic tale by Felix Dahn

     The composer of this hitherto unknown opera is no young man. He is over sixty, and his well-deserved fame reaches him but tardily. Alexander Ritter, a relation and a true friend of Wagner’s, was one of the few who gave his help to the latter when lie fled to Switzerland poor and abandoned. Though a warm admirer of Wagner’s music, Ritter is not his echo. His music, saturated with the modern spirit, is abso­lutely independent and original. His compositions are not numerous: two operas and a few songs are almost all he did for immortality, but they all wear the stamp of a remarkable talent. “Idle Hans” is a dramatic fairy tale of poetical conception. Its strength lies in the orchestra, which is wonderfully in tune with the different situations. After having been represented in Weimar ten years ago, the opera fell into oblivion, from which it has now come forth, and was given on the Dresden stage on November 9, 1892. It has met with unanimous approval from all those who understand fine and spiritual music.
     The plot is soon told.
     Count Hartung has seven sons, all grown up after his own heart except the youngest, Hans, called the Idle, who prefers basking in the sun­shine and dreaming away his life to hunting and fighting. He is a philosopher and a true type of the German, patient, quiet, and phleg­matic, who does not deem it worth his while to move a finger for all the shallow doings of the world in general, and his brothers in particular. The son’s idleness so exasperates his father that he orders him to be chained like a criminal to a huge oaken post standing in the court-yard, for-bidding anybody, under heavy penalty, to speak to him. His brothers pity him, but they obey their father.
     Left alone, Hans sighs after his dead mother, who so well understood him, and who had opened his eyes and heart to an ideal world, with all that is good and noble. Far from loath­ing his father, he only bewails the hardness of him, for whose love he craves in vain. At last he falls asleep. Seeing this, the maid-servants come to mock him (by the by, a delightful piece of music is this chatter chorus). When Hans has driven away the impudent hussies, his brother Ralph, the singer, approaches to assure him of his unvarying hove. He is the only one who believes in Hans’s worth, and now tries hard to rouse him into activity, for he has heard that the Queen is greatly oppressed by her enemies, the Danes. But Hans remains unmoved, telling him quietly to win his laurels without him. In the midst of their colloquy the Herald’s voice announces that the battle is lost, and that the Queen is coming to the castle, a fugitive. The old Count descends from his tower to assemble his sons and his vassals. Hardly are they ready, when the Queen rides np to ask for protection. The gate closes be­hind her, and the old Count does homage, while Hans, still lying idle on his straw, stares at her beauty with new awakened interest. But the enemy is coming nearer; all the Count’s well-trained soldiers are defeated, and already Harald, the Danish King, peremptorily orders them to surrender. Now Hans awakes. His effort to break his chains excites the Queen’s attention, who asks the old Count for what crime the beautiful youth is punished so severely. The father disowns his son; but at this moment the gate gives way and in rushes Harald, who is met by old Hartung. Alas! the Count’s sword breaks in pieces. With the cry, “Now it is worth while acting,” Hans breaks his fetters, and brandishing the oaken post to which he was chained, he fells Harahd to the ground with one mighty stroke. Konrad, the valet, fetters the giant, and Hans slays every one who tries to enter; then, rushing out, delivers his brothers and puts the whole army to flight. Then he returns to the Queen, who has witnessed his deeds with a heart full of deep admiration, and swears allegiance. Hearti!y thanking him, she only now hears that the young hero is Hartung’s son, and, full of gratitude, she offers him one-half of her kingdom. But Hans the Idler does not care for a crown; it is her own sweet self he wants, and boldly he claims her hand. Persuaded to have found in him a companion for life as true and loyal as ever lived, she grants him her heart and kingdom.

IDOMENEUS

Opera in three acts by W. A. Mozart

Text by Abbate Gianbattista Varesco

     This opera, which Mozart composed in his twenty-fifth year for the Opera-seria in Munich, was represented in the year 1781, and won brilliant success.
     It is the most remarkable composition of Mozart’s youthful age, and though he wrote it under Gluck’s influence, there is many a spark of his own original genius, and often he breaks the bonds of conventional form and rises to heights hitherto unanticipated. The public in general does not estimate the opera very highly. In consequence Idomeneus was represented in Dresden, after the long interval of twenty-one years, only to find the house empty and the applause luke­warm. But the true connoisseur of music ought not to be influenced by public opinion, for though the action does not warm the hearer, the music is at once divinely sweet and har­monions; no wild excitement, no ecstatic feel­ings, but music pure and simple, filling the soul with sweet content.
     The scene takes place in Cydonia, on the isle of Crete, soon after the end of the Trojan war.
     In the first act Ilia, daughter of Priam, bewails her unhappy fate; but won by the mag­nanimity of Idamantes, son of Idomeneus, King of Crete, who relieves the captive Trojans from their fetters, she begins to love him, much against her own will. Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, who also loves Idamantes, per­ceives with fury his predilection for the captive princess and endeavors to regain his heart.
     Arbaces, the High-priest, enters, to announce that Idomeneus has perished at sea in a tempest. All bewail this misfortune and hasten to the strand to pray to the gods for safety.
     But Idomeneus is not dead. Poseidon, whose help he invoked in his direst need, has saved him, Idomeneus vowing to sacrifice to the god the first mortal whom he should encounter on landing. Unfortunatehy, it is his own son, who comes to the strand to mourn for his beloved father. Idomeneus, having been absent during the siege of Troy for ten years, at first fails to recognize his son. But when the truth dawns on both, the son’s joy is as great as his father’s misery. Terrified, the latter turns from the aggrieved and bewildered Idamantes. Meanwhile the King’s escort has also safely landed, and all thank Poseidon for their delivery.
     In the second act Idomeneus takes counsel with Arbaces, and resolves to send his son away, in order to save him from the impending evil. The King speaks to Ilia, whose love for Ida-mantes he soon divines. This only adds to his poignant distress. Electra, hearing that she is to accompany Idamantes to Argos, is radiant, hoping that her former lover may then forget Ilia. They take a tender farewell from Idomenens, but just when they are about to em­bark, a dreadful tempest arises, and a monster emerges from the waves, filling all present with awe and terror.
     In the third act Idamantes seeks Ilia to bid her farewell. Not anticipating the reason of his father’s grief, which he takes for hate, he is resolved to die for his country, by either vanquishing the dreadful monster sent by Poseidon’s wrath, or by perishing in the combat.
     Ilia, unable to conceal her love for him any longer, bids him live, live for her. In his new-found happiness Idamautes forgets his grief, and when his father surprises the lovers, he implores him to calm his wrath, and rushes away, firmly resolved to destroy the monster.
     With terrible misgivings Idomeneus sees Ar­baces approach, who announces that the people are in open rebehliou against him. The King hastens to the temple, where he is received with remonstrances by the High-priest, who shows him the horrid ravages which Poseidon’s wrath has achieved through the monster; he entreats him to name the victim for the sacrifice and to satisfy the wishes of the god. Rent by remorse and pain, Idomeneus finally names his son.
     All are horror-stricken, and falling on their knees, they crave Poseidon’s pardon. While they yet kneel, loud songs of triumph are heard, and Idamantes returns victorious from his fight with the monster.
     With noble courage he throws himself at his father’s feet, imploring his benediction and — his death. For, having heard of his father’s un­happy vow, he now comprehends his sorrow, and endeavors to lessen his grief.
     Idomenens, torn by conflicting feelings, at last is about to grant his son’s wish, but when he lifts his sword, Ilia throws herself between, imploring him to let her be the victim. A touching scene ensues between the lovers, but Ilia gains her point. Just when she is about to receive her death-stroke, Poseidon’s pity is at last aroused. In thunder and lightning he de­crees that Idomeneus is to renounce his throne in favor of Idamantes, for whose spouse he chooses Ilia.
     In a concluding scene we see Electra tor­mented by the furies of hate and jealonsy. Idomeneus fulfils Poseidon’s request, and all invoke the god’s benediction on the happy royal house of Crete.

INGRID

Opera in two acts by Karl Grammann.

Text by T. Kersten

     Ingrid is a musical composition of considerable interest, the local tone and coloring being so well hit. It is a Norwegian picture, with many pretty and original customs, to which the music is well adapted and effective, without being heart-stirring.
     The scene is laid in Varö in Norway. Helga, the rich Norwegian peasant, Wandrup’s daughter, is to wed Godila Swestorp, her cousin, and the most desirable young man in the village. She entertains but friendly feelings for him, while her heart belongs to a young German traveller; and Godila, feeling that she is different from what she was, keeps jealous watch over her, and swears to destroy his rival.
     In the second scene Ingrid, a young girl (coach maid) whose business it is to direct the carioles from station to station, drives up with the German Erhard, who, meeting with a severe accident in the mountains, is saved by her courage. Full of tenderness, she dresses his wounds; he thanks her warmly, and presents her with a miniature portrait of his mother. She mistakes his gratitude for love, and it fills her with hap­piness, which is instantly destroyed when Helga appears and sinks on the breast of her lover. Ingrid, a poor orphan, who never knew father or mother, is deeply disappointed, and bitterly reproaches Heaven for her hard fate. The scene is witnessed by old father Wandrup, in whose heart it arouses long-buried memories, and he tries to console Ingrid. But when she claims the right to hear more of her parents he only says that she was found a babe at his threshold twenty-five years ago, and that nothing was ever heard of her father and mother.
     The second act opens with a pretty national festival, in which the youths and maidens, adorned with wild carnations, wend their way in couples to Ljora (love’s bridge in the people’s mouth), from whence they drop their flowers into the foaming water. If they chance to be carried out to sea together, the lovers will be
     united; if not, woe to them, for love and friendship will die an untimely death. Godila tries to offer his carnations to Helga, but she dexterously avoids him, and succeeds in having a short interview with Erhard, with whom she is to take flight on a ship, whose arrival is just announced. Erhard goes off to prepare everything, and a few minutes afterwards Helga comes out of the house in a travelling dress. But Godila, who has promised Wandrup to watch over his daughter, detains her.
     Wild with love and jealousy, lie strains her to his breast and drags her towards the Ljora bridge. Helga vainly struggles against the madman; but Ingrid, who has witnessed the whole occurrence, waves her white kerchief in the direction of the ship, and calls hack Erhard, who is just in time to spring on the bridge, when its railing gives way, and Godila, who has let Helga fall at the approach of his enemy, is precipitated into the waves. Erhard tries to save him, but is prevented by Ingrid, who intimates that all efforts would be useless. Helga, in a swoon, is carried to the house, when Wandrup, seeing his child wounded and apparently lifeless, calls Godila, and hears with horror that his body has been found dashed to pieces on the rocks. Now the father’s wrath turns against Erhard, in whom he sees Godila’s murderer, but Ingrid, stepping forth, relates how the catastrophe happened, and how Godila seemed to he punished by Heaven for his attack on Helga. Everybody is touched by poor, despised Ingrid’s unselfishness; she even pleads for Helga’s union with Erhard, nobly renouncing her own claims on his love and gratitude. Wandrup relents, and the happy lovers go on the Ljora bridge, whence their carnatious float out to sea side by side. The ship’s departure is signalled, and all accompany the lovers on board. Only Ingrid remains. Her strength of mind has forsaken her; a prey to wild despair, she resolves to de­stroy herself. Taking a last look at Erhard’s gift, the little medallion picture, she is surprised by Wandrup, who recognizes in it his own dead love. “She is thy mother, too, Ingrid,” he cries out. “ My mother, she, and Erhard my brother!” This is too much for Ingrid. With an incoherent cry she rushes on the bridge, intending to throw herself over. But Wand­rup beseechingly stretches out his arms, crying, “Ingrid, stay, live for thy father.” At first the unhappy girl shrinks hack, but seeing the old man’s yearning love, she sinks on her knees, then, slowly rising, she returns to her father, who folds her in loving embrace.

IPHIGENIA IN AULIS

Grand Opera in three acts by Gluck

Text of the original rearranged by R. Wagner

     This opera, though it does not stand, from the point of view of the artist, on the same level with Iphigenia in Tauris, deserves, nevertheless, to be represented on every good stage. It may be called the first part of the tragedy, and Iphigenia in Tauris very beautifully completes it. The music is sure to be highly relished by a cultivated hearer, characterized as it is by a simplicity which often rises into grandeur and nobility of utterance.
     The first scene represents Agamemnon rent by a conflict between his duty and his fatherly love; the former of which demands the sacrifice of his daughter, for only then will a favor­able wind conduct the Greeks safely to Ilion. Kalehas, the High-priest of Artemis, appears to announce her dreadful sentence. Alone with the King, Kalchas vainly tries to induce the unhappy father to consent to the sacrifice.
     Meanwhile Iphigenia, who has not received Agamemnon’s message, which ought to have prevented her undertaking the fatal journey, arrives with her mother, Klytemnestra. They are received with joy by the people. Agamemnon secretly informs his spouse that Achilles, Iphigenia’s betrothed, has proved unworthy of her, and that she is to return to Argos at once. Iphigenia gives way to her feelings. Achilles appears, the lovers are soon reconciled, and prepare to celebrate their nuptials.
     In the second act Iphigenia is adorned for her wedding, and Achilles comes to lead her to the altar, when Arkas, Agamemnon’s messenger, informs them that death awaits Iphigenia.
     Klytemnestra, in despair, appeals to Achilles, and the bridegroom swears to protect Iphigenia. She alone is resigned in the belief that it is her father’s will that she should face this dreadful duty. Achilles reproaches Agamemnon wildly, and leaves the unhappy father a prey to mental torture. At last he decides to send Arkas at once to Mykene with mother and daughter, and to hide them there until the wrath of the goddess be appeased. But it is too late.
     In the third act the people assemble before the royal tent and, with much shouting and noise, demand the sacrifice. Achilles in vain implores Iphigenia to follow him. She is ready to be sacrificed, while he determines to kill any one who dares touch his bride. Klytemnestra then tries everything in her power to save her. She offers herself in her daughter’s stead, and finding it of no avail, at last sinks down in a swoon.. The daughter, having bade her an eternal farewell, with quiet dignity allows herself to be led to the altar. When her mother awakes, she rages in impotent fury; then she hears the people’s hymn to the goddess, and rushes out to die with her child. The scene changes. The High-priest at the altar of Artemis is ready to pierce the innocent victim. A great tumult arises; Achilles with his native Thessalians makes his way through the crowd, in order to save Iphigenia, who loudly invokes the help of the goddess. Bnt at this moment a loud thunder-peal arrests the contending parties, and when the mist, which has blinded all, has passed, Artemis herself is seen in a cloud with Iphigenia kneeling before her.
     The goddess announces that it is Iphigenia’s high mind which she demands, and not her blood; she wishes to take her into a foreign land, where she may be her priestess and atone for the sins of the blood of Atreus.
     A wind favorable to the fleet has risen, and the people, filled with gratitude and admiratiou, behold the vanishing cloud and praise the goddess.

IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS

Opera in four acts by Gluck

Text by Guillard

     Gluck’s Iphigenia stands highest among his dramatic compositions. It is eminently classic, and so harmoniously finished that Herder called its music sacred.
     The libretto is excellent. It follows pretty exactly the Greek original.
     Iphigenia, King Agamemnon’s daughter, who has been saved hy the goddess Diana (or Artemis) from death at the altar of Aulis, has been carried in a cloud to Tauris, where she is compelled to be High-priestess in the temple of the barbarous Scythians. There we find her, after having performed her cruel service for fifteen years. Human sacrifices are required, but more than once she has saved a poor stranger from this awful lot.
     Iphigenia is much troubled by a dream in which she saw her father deadly wounded by her mother, and herself about to kill her brother Orestes. She bewails her fate in having, at the behest of Thoas, King of the Scythians, to sacrifice two strangers who have been thrown on his shores. Orestes and his friend Pylades, for these are the strangers, are led to death, loaded with chains.
     Iphigenia, hearing that they are her conutry-men, resolves to save at least one of them, in order to send him home to her sister Electra. She does not know her brother Orestes, who, having slain his mother, has fled, pursued by the furies, but an inner voice makes her choose him as a messenger to Greece. A lively dispute arises between the two friends. At last Orestes prevails upon Iphigenia to spare his friend, by threatening to destroy himself with his own hands, his life being a burden to him. Iphigenia reluctantly complies with his request, giving the message for her sister to Pylades.
     In the third act Iphigenia vainly tries to steel her heart against her victim. At last she seizes the knife, but Orestes’s cry: “So you also were pierced by the sacrificial steel, O my sister Iphigenia!” arrests her; the knife falls from her hands, and there ensues a touching scene of recognition.
     Meanwhile Thoas, who has heard that one of the strangers was about to depart, enters the temple with his body-guard, and though Iphigenia tells him that Orestes is her brother and entreats him to spare Agamemnon’s son, Thoas determines to sacrifice him and his sister Iphigenia as well. But his evil designs are frustrated by Pylades, who, returning with several of his countrymen, stabs the King of Tauris. The goddess Diana herself appears, and helping the Greeks in their fight, gains for them the victory. Diana declares herself appeased by Orestes’s repentance, and allows him to return to Mykene with his sister, his friend, and all his followers.

IRRLICHT
(WILL-O’-THE-WISP)

Opera in one act by Karl Grammann.

Text by Kurt Geoke

     With “Irrlicht” the composer takes a step towards verism; both subject and music are terribly realistic, though without the least shade of triviality. The music is often of brilliant dramatic effect, and the fantastic text, well matching the music, is as rich in thrilling facts as any modern Italian opera. Indeed this seems to be by. far the best opera which the highly gifted composer has written.
     The scene is laid on a pilot’s station on the coast of Normandy. A pilot-boat has been built and is to be baptized with the usual ceremonies. Tournaud, an old ship captain, expects his daughter Gervaise back from a stay in Paris. He worships her, and when she arrives he is almost beside himself with joy and pride. But Gervaise is pale and sad, and hardly listens to gay Marion, who tells her of the coming festival. Meanwhile all the fisher people from far and near assemble to participate in the baptism, and André, who is to be captain of the boat, is about to choose a godmother amongst the fair maidens around, when he sees Gervaise coming out of the house, where she has exchanged her travelling garb for a national dress. Forgotten are all the village lassies, and André chooses Gervaise, who reluctantly consents to baptize the boat, and is consequently received very ungraciously by the maidens and ,their elders. She blesses the boat, which sails off among the cheers of the crowd with the simple words: “ God bless thee.” André, who loves Gervaise with strong and everlasting affection, turns to her, full of hope. He is gently but firmly rebuked, and sadly leaves her, while Gervaise is left to her own sad memories, which carry her back to the short happy time when she was loved and won and, alas! forsaken by a stranger of high position. Marion, who loves André hopelessly, vainly tries to brighten up her companion. They are all frightened by the news of a ship being in danger at sea. A vio­lent storm has arisen, and when Maire Grisard, the builder of the yacht, pronounces her name “Irrlicht,” Gervaise starts with a wild cry. The ship is seen battling with the waves, while André rushes in to bring Gervaise a telegraphic dispatch from Paris. It tells her that her child is at death’s door. Tournaud, catching the paper, in a moment guesses the whole tragedy of his daughter’s life. In his shame and wrath he curses her, but all her thoughts are centred on the ship, on which the Count, her child’s father, is struggling against death. She im­plores André to save him, but he is deaf to her entreaties. Then she rushes off to ring the alarm-bell, but nobody dares to risk his life in the storm. At last, seeing all her efforts vain, she looses a boat, and drives out alone into night and perdition. As soon as André perceives her danger he follows her. At this mo­ment a flash of lightning, which is followed by a deafening crash, shows the yacht rising out of the waves for the last time, and then plunging down into a watery grave forever. The whole assembly sink on their knees in fervent prayer, which is so far granted that André brings back Gervaise unhurt. She is but in a deep swoon, and her father, deeply touched, pardons her. When she opens her eyes and shudderingly understands that her sacrifice was fruitless, she takes a little flask of poison from her bosom and slowly empties it. Then, taking a last farewell of the home of her childhood and of her early love, she recommends Marion to André’s care. By this time the poison has begun to take effect, and the poor girl, thinking that in the waving willow branches she sees the form of her lover, beckoning to her, sighs “I come, beloved,” and sinks back dead.

IRIS

A Tragic Opera in three acts by Pietro Mascagni

Book by Luigi Illica

     This work was first performed at Rome, in November, 1898, and was revised a year later. The scene of the opera is Japan and the time is the present.
     The first act shows a Japanese garden, where a hymn is sung to the sun, as the cause of all life. Iris and her blind father are there. The latter listens with pleasure to the prattle of the little girl, who is playing with her doll. There enters Osaka, a libertine, who desires the young girl for his evil purposes. Kyoto is bribed by him to arrange for the abduction of Iris. She is attracted away from her other companions, who are washing soiled linen by the river front, in order to attend a puppet show gotten up by Kyoto, and then is seized by men and carried off, while a sum of money is left behind for the father to bind the bargain and make it legal. Geishas are fluttering all about Iris during the scene of abduction, and her father, the blind old man, is given strong evidence that Iris really went voluntarily to Kyoto’s house of shame. The deserted father, forced to believe this, pronounces a solemn curse on the head of his daughter, and becomes a strolling vagabond upon the face of the earth.
     In the second act the scene is a yoshiwara, and Iris, slumbering while other geishas strum the lute and softly sing a plaintive melody, Osaka makes his entrance, and bargains with Kyoto for possession of Iris. Kyoto demands a high figure for Iris, and after some haggling Osaka agrees to the terms, because, as he puts it, Iris is a "creature with a soul." i When Iris wakes she finds herself in a wonderful, a lovely place, where all is perfume and song. And as Osaka first approaches her she is unaware of his purpose and salutes him as a son of light. Kyoto becomes wearied of the poor girl’s complete innocence and bids the keeper of the place to take her away. Besides, he also orders his geishas to robe Iris in transparent veils and thus to expose her to the gaze of the passers-by. Osaka’s pity is aroused and he promises Kyoto his own price. During this auction the victim herself still remains completely ignorant of its true meaning. And towards its end her blind father appears as one of the crowd surrounding the show window, and his daughter shouts with joy at seeing him, but the blind man hurls mud at her and heaps curses upon her. Iris, not having the key to it all, sinks to the ground with despair, and flings, herself down a precipice, being thought to be killed by the fall.
     In Act III is seen a huge heap or garbage, on the outskirts of the city. In rumaging through it the ragpickers discover the body of Iris, clothed in its finery, and the men scatter and run away in fright. But Iris is not yet dead. Voices seem to come to her from a distance and murmur phrases that she is dimly aware to have heard before but not understood. She hears Osaka telling her that she is perishing as a flower that sheds its fragrance only in death. She hears her father justifying himself. She wonders what it all means. She remembers her own hymn to the sun, as the cause of all life, and thus she passes away — the refuse becomes a flowery path, and her soul hovers over it all in light and gladness.

ISABEAU

Opera in three acts by Pietro Mascagni

Libretto by Illica, based upon the story of Lady Godiva

     The first performance was given in Buenos Aires in 1911. The setting is Italy of the eleventh century.
     The Princess Isabean is as renowned for her aversion to marriage as for her beauty which is always veiled in a snow white mantle. King Raimondo is eager for his daughter to take a husband and arranges a tournament of love at which she is to award her hand to the knight who wins her favor. She rejects all the gallant and noble contendents and for her obstinacy, is condemned by her father to ride unclad through the streets at noon. At the urging of the shocked populace, the king modifies the sentence so far as to announce that no one shall remain in the streets or look out of the windows while she rides through the city.
     All obey the order save Folco, a guileless youth, who showers the Princess with flowers and sings her charms from the battlements. Escaping mayhem from the vulgar mob, he is imprisoned under sentence of death. Isabeau visits him in gaol and, convinced of his purity of mind, she promptly falls in love with him. While she is on her way to tell her father that she is ready to marry, the populace, incited by the Chancellor, murder Folco. Isabeau returns, and commits suicide over his body.

Last updated October 21, 2006