THE STANDARD OPERAGLASS

CHARLES ANNESLEY

THE MACCABEES

Opera in three acts by Anton Rubenstein

Text by Mosenthal, taken from Otto Ludwig’s drama of the same name

     This opera when it appeared created a great sensation in the musical world. In it the eminent pianist and composer has achieved a splen­did success. The music belongs to the noblest and best, and is in most masterly fashion adapted to the Jewish character. Ludwig and Mosenthal, both names of renown in Germany, have given a libretto worthy of the music.
     The hero is the famous warrior of the Old Testament. The scene takes place 160 years before Christ, partly at Modin, a city in the mountains of Judah, and partly in Jerusalem and its environs.
     The first act shows Leah with three of her sons, Eleazar, Joarim and Benjamin. Eleazar is envious of Judah, the eldest son, whose conrage and strength are on everybody’s lips, but his mother consoles him by a prophecy that Eleazar shall one day be High-priest and King of the Jews.
     The fête of the sheep-shearing is being celebrated, and Noëmi, Judah’s wife, approaches Leah with garlands of flowers, asking for her benediction. But she is repulsed by her mother-in-law, who is too proud to recognize the low-born maid as her equal, and slights her son Judah for his love. She tries to incite him into rebellion against the Syrians, when Jojakim, a priest, appears. He announces the death of Osias, High-priest of Zion, and calls one of Leah’s sons to the important office. As ,Judah feels no vocation for such a burden, Eleazar, his mother’s favorite, is chosen, and so Leah sees her dream already fulfilled. They are about to depart, when the approaching army of the Syrians is announced. Terror seizes the people as Gorgias, the leader of the enemy, marches up with his soldiers, and loudly proclaims that the Jews are to erect an altar to Pallas Athene, to whom they must pray henceforth. Leah seeks to inflame Eleazar’s spirit, but his courage fails him. The altar is soon erected, and as Gorgias sternly orders that sacrifices are to be offered to the goddess, Boas, Noëmi’s father, is found willing to bow to the enemy’s commands. But the measure is full; Judah steps forth and striking Boas, the traitor to their faith, dead, loudly praises Jehova. He calls his people to arms, and repulses the Syrians, and Leah, recognizing her son’s greatness, gives him her benediction.
     The second act represents a deep ravine near Emans; the enemy is beaten, and Judah is resolved to drive him from Zion’s walls, but Jojakim warns him not to profane the coming Sabbath.
     Judah tries to overrule the priests and to excite the people, but he is not heard, and the enemy is able to kill the psalm-singing soldiers like lambs.
     The next scene shows us Eleazar with Cleopatra, daughter of King Antiochus of Syria.
     They love each other, and Eleazar consents to forsake his religion for her, while she promises to make him King of Jerusalem.
     In the next scene Leah, in the city of Modin, is greeted with acclamations of joy, when Simei, a relative of the slain Boas, appears to bewail Judah’s defeat: other fugitives coming up confirm his narrative of the massacre. Leah hears that Judah fled and that Antiochus approaches, conducted by her own son Eleazar. She curses the apostate. She has still two younger sons, but the Israelites take them from her to give as hostages to the King Antiochus. Leah is bound to a cypress tree by her own people, who attribute their misfortunes to her and to her sons. Only Noëmi, the despised daughter-in-law, remains to liberate the miserable mother, and together they resolve to ask the tyrant’s pardon for the sons.
     In the third act we find Judah, alone and unrecognized, in the deserted streets of Jerusalem. Hearing the prayers of the people that Judah may be sent to them, he steps forth and tells them who he is, and all sink at his feet, swearing to fight with him to the death. While Judah prays to God for a sign of grace, Noëmi comes with the dreadful news of the events at Modin, which still further rouses the anger and courage of the Israelites. Meanwhile Leah has succeeded in penetrating into Antiochus’s presence to beg the lives of her children from him. Eleazar, Gorgias and Cleopatra join their prayers to those of the poor mother, and at last Anti­chus consents, and the two boys are led into the room.
     But the King only grants their liberty on condition that they renounce their faith. They are to be burnt alive should they abide by their heresy. The mother’s heart is full of agony, but the children’s noble courage prevails. They are prepared to die for their God, but the unhappy mother is not even allowed to share their death. When Eleazar sees his brothers’ firmness his conscience awakens, and notwithstanding Cleopatra’s entreaties he joins them on their way to death. The hymns of the youthful martyrs are heard, but with the sound of their voices there suddenly mingles that of a growing tumult. Antiochus falls, shot through the heart, and the Israelites rush in, headed by Judah, putting the Syrians to flight. Leah sees her people’s victory, but the trial has been too great — she sinks back lifeless. Judah is proclaimed King of Zion, but he humbly bends his head, giving all glory to the Almighty God.

THE MAGIC FLUTE
(DIE ZAUBERFLÖTE)

Opera in two acts by Mozart

Text by Schikaneder

     This last opera of Mozart’s, written only a few months before his death, approaches so near to perfection that one almost feels in it the motion of the spirit-wings which were so soon, alas! to bear away Mozart’s genius from earth, too early by far, for he died at the age of thirty-five, having accomplished in this short space of time more than other great composers in a long life.
     The Magic Flute is one of the most remarkable operas known on the stage. It is half fictitious, half allegorical. The text, done by the old stage-director, Schikaneder, was long mistaken for a fiction without any common sense, but Mozart saw deeper, else he would not have adapted his wonderful music to it. It is true that the tales of old Egypt are mixed up in a curious manner with modern Freemasonry, but nobody, except a superficial observer, could fail to catch a deep moral sense in the naïve rhymes.
     The incidents of the opera are the following:
     Prince Tamino, a youth as valiant as he is noble and virtuous, is implored by the Queen of Night to save her daughter, whom the old and sage High-priest Sarastro has taken from her by force. The bereaved mother pours forth her woe in heart-melting sounds and promises everything to the rescuer of her child. Tamino is filled with ardent desire to serve her. On his way he meets the gay Papageno, who at once agrees to share the Prince’s adventures. Papageno is the gay element in the opera; always cheerful and in high spirits, his ever-ready tongue plays him many a funny trick. So we see him once with a lock on his mouth by way of punishment for his idle prating. As he promises never to tell a lie any more, the lock is taken away by the three ladies of the Queen of Night. Those ladies present Tamino with a golden flute, giving at the same time an instrument made with little silver bells to Papageno, both of which are to help them in times of danger. The Queen of Night even sends with them three boy-angels. These are to point out to them the ways and means by which they may attain their purpose.
     Now the young and beautiful Princess Pamina is pursued by declarations of love from a Negro servant of Sarastro. Papageno comes to her rescue, frightening the negro Monostatos with his feathery dress. Papageno, on the other hand, fears the negro on account of his blackness, believing him to be the devil in person. Papageno escapes with Pamina, but the negro overtakes him with his servants. Then Papageno shakes his bells, and ho! all, forgetting their wrath, forthwith begin to dance.
     Meanwhile Tamino reaches Sarastro’s castle, and at once asks for the High-priest, poor Pa­mina’ s bitter enemy. The Under-priests do not allow him to enter, but explain that their master Sarastro is as good as he is sage, and that he always acts for the best. They assure Tamino that the Princess lives and is in no danger. Full of thanks, the Prince begins to play on his flute; and just then he hears Papageno’s bells. At this juncture Sarastro appears, the wise Master, before whom they all how. He pun­ishes the wicked negro; but Tamino and his Pamina are not to be united without first having given ample proof of their love and constancy. Tamino determines to undergo whatever trials may await him, hut the Queen of Night, knowing all, sends her three ladies to deter Tamino and his comrade from their purpose. But all temptation is gallantly set aside; they have given a promise to Sarastro which they will keep.
     Even the Queen of Night herself is unable to weaken their strength of purpose; temptations of every kind overtake them, but Tamino remains firm. He is finally initiated into the mysteries of the goddess Isis.
     In the interval Pamina deems Tamino faithless. She would fain die, but the three celestial youths console her by assuring her that Tamino’s love is true, and that he passes through the most severe trials solely on her behalf.
     On hearing this, Pamina at once asks to share in the trials, and so they walk together through fire and water, protected by the golden flute, as well as by their courage and constancy. They come out purified and happy.
     Papageno, having lost his companion, has grown quite melancholy, and longs for the little wife that was promised to him and shown to him only for a few moments. He resolves at last to end his life by hanging himself, when the celestial youths appear, reminding him of his bells. He begins to shake them, and Papagena appears in feathery dress, the very counterpart of himself. All might now be well, were it not that the Queen of Night, a somewhat unreasonable lady, broods vengeance. She accepts the negro Monostatos as her avenger, and promises to give him her daughter. But already Sarastro has done his work; Tamino is united to his Pamina, and before the sunny light of truth everything else vanishes and sinks back into night.

THE MAIDENS OF SCHILDA

Comic Opera in three acts by Alban Forster

Text by Rudolf Bunge

     The first work of this composer was produced on the stage of the Royal Dresden Theatre on the 12th of October, 1889, and was received with great applause. This surprising success is due firstly to the great popularity which Förster enjoyed as former Director of the renowned “Liedertafel” (society for vocal music) and as teacher, then to the numerous pretty melodies, intermixed with national airs, in which particularly the old “Dessaner march” is skilfully interwoven, and then the well-known student air “Was kommt dort von der Höh,” which of course gladdens the heart of every student, old or young.
     Nevertheless, it might be called an operette rather than an opera. The text at least does not range any higher; it is often almost silly, the rhymes are bad and unequal.
     Nevertheless those who like to be amused by a light and agreeable flow of music may pass a merry evening listening to the droll exploits of the two Schilda maidens. Schilda and Schild-burghers are, in Germany, synonymous with narrow-mindedness, which is indeed strongly marked in the inhabitants of this out-of-the-way town.
     The scene is laid in the last century.
     In the first act an order of the Prince of Dessau calls all the youngsters of Schilda to arms. The chief magistrate, with the characteristic name of Rüpelmei (Rüpel, clown), who has already given to the town so many wise laws — as, for instance, the one which decrees that the Schilda maidens under thirty are not allowed to marry — now demonstrates to his two nieces, Lenchen and Hedwig, the benefit of his legislation, inasmuch as they might otherwise be obliged to take leave of their husbands. He wants to marry one of them himself, but they have already given their hearts to two students, and only laugh at their vain uncle. This tyrant now orders all the maidens to he locked up in a place of safety every evening, in order to guard them from outsiders; further, the worthy Schildaers resolve to build a wall which is to shut them out from the depraved world.
     While Rüpelmei is still reflecting upon these ingenious ideas, a French Courier, the Marquis de Maltracy, enters, imploring the Burgomaster to hide him from the Prussian pursuers, who are on his track. He promises a cross of honor to the ambitious Rüpelmei, who at once hides him in the Town Hall. Meanwhile a chorus of students approaches, who have left Halle to avoid being enlisted in the army. Lenchen and Hedchen, recognizing their sweethearts among them, greet them joyfully, and when Rüpelmei appears they propitiate him by flattery.
     A lively scene of student life ensues, in which the maidens join, after their old night-guardian, Schlump, has been intoxicated.
     Rüpelmei, returning and seeing this spectacle, orders the police to seize the students; but instead of doing so they thrust him into the very same barrel which he has invented for the punishment of male citizens, and so he is obliged to be an impotent spectator of their merrymaking.
     In the second act he has been liberated by his faithful citizens; the students have escaped, and the maidens are waiting to be locked up in their place of refuge. But in the shades of evening the two students, Berndt and Walter, return and are hidden by their sweethearts, Lenchen and Hedchen, among the other maidens, after having put on female garments. They all have hardly disappeared in the Town Hall when the Prince of Dessan arrives with his Grenadiers to seize the students, of whose flight to Schilda he has been informed. Rüpelmei tells him that he has captured and killed many of them, but the Prince, disbelieving him, orders his soldiers to search the houses, beginning with the Town Hall. Rüpelmei, remembering the Marquis, implores him to desist from his resolution, the Town Hall being the nightly asylum for Schilda’s daughters, but in vain. Schlump, the snoring guardian, is awakened and ordered to open the door to the room where the maidens are singing and frolicking with their guests. The Marquis de Maltracy has also introduced himself, but, perceiving that he is a spy, they all turn from him in disdain; when the Prussian Grenadiers are heard, they quickly hide him in a large trunk.
     The Prince, finding all those pretty girls, is quite affable, and a general dancing and merry-making ensues, during which the students vainly try to escape, when suddenly two of the Grenadiers perceive that their respective beauties have beards. The students are discovered and at once ordered to be put into the uniform, while Rüpelmei is arrested and handcuffed, not­withstanding his protestations.
     When the third act opens, drilling is going on in the town, and Walter and Berndt are among the recruits.
     Lenchien and Hedwig arrive with the other girls to free the students. They flatter the drill-sergeant, and soon the drilling is forgotten, and they are dancing merrily, when the Prince of Dessan arrives in the midst of the fun, and threatens to have the officer shot for neglect of duty and the students as deserters. While the maidens are entreating him to be merciful, Berndt suddenly remembers the French Courier. He quickly relates to the Prince that they have captured a French Marquis, who has a most important document in his possession, the plan of war. The Prince promising to set them free if that proves to be true, the Marquis is conducted before the Prince, and the hatter discovers that he is a messenger to the King of France, and that his letter is to show how the French army might attack the Russians unawares. By this discovery the Germans are saved, for Dessan has time to send an officer to Saxony with orders to occupy Dresden before the arrival of the enemy.
     Of course, the students are set free, and each of them obtains an office and the hand of his maiden besides. The luckless Rüpelmei is also liberated, being too much of a fool to deserve even the Prince’s scorn, who further decrees that the foolish town may keep its Burgomaster, as best suited to its narrow-mindedness.

MARGA

Opera in one act by Georg Pittrich

Text by Arno Spies

     The first performance of this highly interesting little opera took place in Dresden in February, 1894, and awakened the interest of every music-lover in the hitherto quite unknown composer. Scenery and music are of the coloring now common to modern composers; for whom, unfortunately, Mascagni is still the god at whose shrine they worship.
     The scene is laid in a Bulgarian village at the foot of the Schipka Pass. Marga, the heroine, a Roumanian peasant-girl, has had a sister, Petrissa, who, suffering cruel wrong at the hands of Vasil Kiselow, has cursed her seducer and sought death in the waves. Marga, who had vowed to avenge her sister, is wandering through the world in vain search of Vasil. When the curtain opens she has just reached the village where Vasil occupies the most conspicuous position of judge. Thoroughly exhausted she sinks down at the foot of a cross, and falls asleep.
     Vasil’s son, Manal, finding her thus, detects a wonderful likeness between the sleeping beauty and a picture which he had found some time ago in the miraculous Sabor Cave, and which for him is the ideal of love and beauty. This picture, a likeness of Petrissa, had been hung there by Vasil, in order to exorcise the curse of the unhappy virgin, but Manal has no knowledge of his father’s misdeed.
     When Marga awakes the young people of course fall in love with each other; and Marga discovers too late that Manal is the son of her sister’s destroyer. Hesitating between love and her vow of vengeance she wildly reproaches Vasil, who falls at her feet in deep contrition, beseeching her forgiveness, which she grants at last. Full of penitence, he relinquishes his property to the young people, and exhorting Manal to be a just and clement judge, he be-takes himself to the mountains, resolved to join in the war against the Turks.

MARGUERITE (OR FAUST)

Opera in five acts by Charles Gounod

The subject of this piece is taken from the first part of Goethe’s greatest drama, “Faust.”
     Faust, a celebrated old doctor, is consumed by an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but, having already lived through a long life devoted to the acquirement of learning and to hard works as a scholar, without having his soul-hunger appreciably relieved, is dissatisfied, and in his disappointment wishes to he released from this life, which has grown to be a burden to him. At this moment Mephistopheles, the incarnation of the Evil One, appears and persuades him to try life in a new shape. The old and learned doctor has only known it in theory; Mephisto will now show it to him in practice and in all the splendor of youth and freshness. Faust agrees, and Mephisto endows him with youth and beauty. In this guise he sees earth anew. It is Easter-time, when all is budding and aglow with freshness and young life, and on such a bright spring day he first sees Margaretha, and at once offers her his arm.
     But this lovely maiden, pure and innocent, and well guarded by a jealous brother, named Valentin, refuses his company somewhat sharply. Nevertheless she cannot help seeing the grace and good bearing of the fine cavalier, and the simple village-maiden is inwardly pleased with his flattery. A bad fate wills it that her brother, Valentin, who is a soldier, has to leave on active service, and after giving many good advices and warnings for his beautiful sister’s welfare, he goes, and so Mephisto is able to introduce Faust to the unprotected girl by means of a message, which he is supposed to have received for an old aunt of Margaretha’s, Frau Marthe Schwertlein. This old gossip, hearing from Mephisto that her husband has been killed in battle, lends a willing ear to the flatteries of the cunning Devil; and Margaretha is left to Faust, who wins her by his love and easy manners. She is only a simple maiden, knowing nothing of the world’s ways and wiles, and she accepts her lover’s precious gifts with childish delight.
     By and bye her brother Valentin returns victorious from the war, but alas! too late. He challenges his sister’s seducer; Mephisto, however, directs Faust’s sword, and the faithful brother is, much against Faust’s own will, slain, cursing his sister with his last breath.
     Now Margaretha awakes to the awful reality of her situation, and she shrinks from her brother’s murderer. Everybody shuns her, and she finds herself alone and forsaken. In despair she seeks refuge in church, but her own conscience is not silenced ; it accuses her more loudly than all the pious songs and prayers. Persecuted by evil spirits, forsaken and forlorn, Margaretha’s reason gives way, and she drowns her new-born child.
     Meanwhile Mephisto has done everything to stifle in Faust the pangs of conscience. Faust never wills the evil ; he loves Margaretha sincerely, but the bad spirit urges him onward. He shows him all the joys and splendors of earth and antiquity in its most perfect form in the person of Helena, but in the midst of all his orgies Faust sees Margaretha. He beholds her, pale, unlike her former self, in the white dress of the condemned, with a blood-red circle round the delicate neck. Then he knows no rest; he feels that she is in danger, and he bids Mephisto save her.
     Margaretha has actually been thrown into prison for her deed of madness, and now the executioner’s axe awaits her. She sits on the damp straw, rocking a bundle, which she takes for her baby, and across her poor, wrecked brain there flit once more pictures of all the scenes of her short-lived happiness. Then Faust enters with Mephisto, and tries to persuade her to escape with them. But she instinctively shrinks from her lover, loudly imploring God’s and the Saints’ pardon. God has mercy on her, for, just as the bells are tolling for her execution, she expires, and her soul is carried to Heaven by angels, there to pray for her erring lover. Mephisto disappears into the earth.

MARTHA

Comic Opera in four acts by Fllotow

Text by W. Friedrich

     This charming opera finally established the renown of its composer, who had first found his way to public favor through “Stradella.” It ranks high among our comic operas, and has become as much liked as those of Lortzing and Nicolai.
     Not the least of its merits lies in the text, which Friedrich worked out dexterously, and which is amusing and interesting throughout.
     Lady Harriet Durham, tired of the pleasures and splendors of Court, determines to seek elsewhere for a pastime, and, hoping to find it in a sphere different from her own, disguises herself and her confidant Nancy as peasant girls, in which garb they visit the Fair at Richmond, accompanied by Lord Tristan, who is hopelessly enamored of Lady Harriet, and unwillingly complies with her wish to escort them to the adventure in the attire of a peasant. They join the servant girls who are there to seek employment, and are hired by a tenant, Plunkett, and his foster brother, Lionel, a youth of somewhat extraordinary behavior, his air being noble and melancholy, and much too refined for a country squire, while the other, though somewhat rough, is frank and jolly in his manner.
     The disguised ladies take the handsel from them, without knowing that they are bound by it, until the sheriff arrives to confirm the bargain. Now the joke becomes reality, and they hear that they are actually hired as servants for a whole year.
     Notwithstanding Lord Tristan’s protestations, the ladies are carried off by their masters, who know them under the names of Martha and Julia.
     In the second act we find the ladies in the company of the tenants, who set them instantly to work. Of course they are totally ignorant of household work, and as their wheels will not go round, Plunkett shows them how to spin. In his rough but kind way he always commands and turns to Nancy, with whom he falls in love, but Lionel only asks softly when he wishes anything done. He has lost his heart to Lady Harriet, and declares his love to her. Though she is pleased by his gentle behavior, sine is by no means willing to accept a country squire, and wounds him by her mockery. Meanwhile Plunkett has sought Nancy for the same purpose, but she hides herself, and at last the girls are sent to bed very anxious and perplexed at the turn their adventure has taken. But Lord Tristan comes to their rescue in a coach, and they take flight, vainly pursued by the tenants. Plunkett swears to catch and punish them, but Lionel sinks into deep melancholy, from which nothing can arouse him.
     In the third act we meet them at a Court-hunt, where they recognize their hired servants in two of the lady hunters. They assert their right, but the ladies disown them haughtily, and when Lionel, whose reason almost gives way under the burden of grief and shame which overwhelms him at thinking himself deceived by Martha, tells the whole story to the astonished Court, the ladies pronounce him insane, and Lord Tristan sends him to prison for his insolence, notwithstanding Lady Harriet and Nancy’s prayer for his pardon.
     Lionel gives a ring to Plunkett, asking him to show it to the Queen, his dying father having told him that it would protect him from every danger.
     In the fourth act Lady Harriet feels remorse for the sad consequences of her haughtiness. She visits the prisoner to crave his pardon. She tells him that she has herself carried his ring to the Queen, and that he has been recognized by it as Lord Derby’s son, once banished from Court, but whose innocence is now proved.
     Then the proud lady offers hand and heart to Lionel, but he rejects her, believing himself duped. Lady Harriet, however, who loves Lionel, resolves to win him against his will. She disappears, and dressing herself and Nancy in the former peasant’s attire, she goes once more to the Fair at Richmond, where Lionel is also brought by his friend Phunkett. He sees his beloved Martha advance toward him, promising to renounce all splendors and live only for him; then his melancholy vanishes, and he weds her, his name and possessions being restored to him, while Plunkett obtains the hand of pretty Nancy, alias Julia.

THE MASTER-SINGERS OF NUREMBERG

Opera in three acts by Wagner

     This opera carries us back to the middle of the sixteenth century, and the persons whom we meet are all historical.
     Amongst the tradesmen whose rhyme-making has made them famous, Hans Sachs, the shoemaker, is the most conspicuous.
     The music is highly original, though not precisely melodious, and is beautifully adapted to its characteristically national subject.
     In the first act we see St. Catharine’s church in Nuremberg, where Divine Service is being celebrated, in preparation for St. John’s Day. Eva, the lovely daughter of Master Pogner, the jeweller, sees the young knight, Walter Stolzing, who has fallen in love with Eva, and who has sold his castle in Franconia to become a citizen of Nuremberg. She tells him that her hand is promised to the winner of the prize for a master-song, to be sung on the following morning.
     We are now called to witness one of those ancient customs still sometimes practised in old German towns. The master-singers appear, and the apprentices prepare everything needful for them. Walter asks one of them, called David, an apprentice of Sachs, what he will have to do in order to compete for the prize. He has not learned poetry as a profession like those worthy workmen, and David vainly tries to initiate him into their old-fashioned rhyming. Walter leaves him, determined to win the prize after his own fashion.
     Pogner appears with Beckmesser the clerk, whom he wishes to have as son-in-law. Beckmesser is so infatuated that he does not doubt of his success. Meanwhile Walter comes up to them, entreating them to admit him into their corporation as a master-singer.
     Pogner consents, but Beckmesser grumbles, not at all liking to have a nobleman among them. When all are assembled, Pogner declares his intention of giving his daughter to the winner of the master-song on the day of St. John’s festival, and all applaud his resolution. Eva herself may refuse him, but never is she to wed another than a crowned master-singer. Sachs, who loves Eva as his own child, seeks to change her father’s resolution, at the same time proposing to let the people choose in the matter of the prize, but he is silenced by his colleagues. They now want to know where Walter has learned the art of poetry and song, and as he designates Walter von der Vogelweide and the birds of the forest, they shrug their shoulders.
     He begins at once to give a proof of his art, praising Spring in a song thrilling with melody. Beckmesser interrupts him ; he has marked the rhymes on the black tablet, but they are new and unintelligible to this dry verse-maker, and he will not let them pass. The others share his opinion; only Hans Sachs differs from them, remarking that Walter’s song, though new and not after the old use and wont rules of Nuremberg, is justified all the same, and so Walter is allowed to finish it, which he does with a bold mockery of the vain poets, comparing them to crows oversounding a singing-bird. Sachs alone feels that Walter is a true poet.
     In the second act David the apprentice tells Magdalene, Eva’s nurse, that the new singer did not succeed, at which she is honestly grieved, preferring the gallant younker for her mistress, to the old and ridiculous clerk. The old maid loves David; she provides him with food and sweets, and many are the railleries which he has to suffer from his companions in consequence.
     The evening coming on, we see Sachs in his open workshop; Eva, his darling, is in confidential talk with him. She is anxious about to-morrow, and rather than wed Beckmesser she would marry Sachs, whom she loves and honors as a father. Sachs is a widower, but he rightly sees through her schemes, and resolves to help the lovers.
     It has now grown quite dark, and Walter comes to see Eva, but they have not sat long together when the sounds of a lute are heard.
     It is Beckmesser trying to serenade Eva, but Sachs interrupts him by singing himself, and thus excites Beckmesser’s wrath and despair. At last a window opens, and Beckmesser, taking Magdalene for Eva, addresses her in louder and louder tones, Sachs all the time beating the measure on a shoe. The neighboring windows open, there is a general alarm, and David, seeing Magdalene at the window apparently listening to Beckmesser, steals behind this unfortunate minstrel, and begins to slap him. In the uproar which now follows, Walter vainly tries to escape from his refuge under the lime-tree, but Sachs comes to his rescue, and takes him into his own workshop, while he pushes Eva unseen into her father’s house, the door of which has just been opened by Pogner.
     In the third act we find Sachs in his room. Walter enters, thanking him heartily for the night’s shelter. Sachs kindly shows him the rules of poetry, encouraging him to try his luck once more. Walter begins, and quite charms Sachs with his love-song. After they have left the room, Beckmesser enters, and reading the poetry, which Sachs wrote down, violently charges the shoemaker with wooing Eva himself. Sachs denies it, and allows Beckmesser to keep the paper. The latter, who has vainly ransacked his brains for a new song, is full of joy, hoping to win the prize with it.
     When he is gone, Eva slips in to fetch her shoes, and she sees Walter stepping out of his dormitory in brilliant armor. He has found a third stanza to his song, which lie at once produces. They all proceed to the place where the festival is to be held, and Beckmesser is the first to try his fortunes, which he does by singing the stolen song. He sadly muddles both melody and words, and being laughed at, he charges Sachs with treachery ; but Sachs quietly denies the authorship, pushing forward Walter, who now sings his stanzas, inspired by love and poetry. No need to say that he wins the hearers’ hearts as he has won those of Eva and Sachs, and that Pogner does not deny him his beloved daughter’s hand.

THE MASTER-THIEF

A German Legend in three parts by Eugen Lindner

After Fitger’s poem by Gustav Kastroff and the composer

     The young composer has hitherto been little heard of by the public, though he has a good name in the musical world, as he has already written an opera called “Ramiro,” which was put on the stage in Leipsic, and excited considerable controversy among his admirers and his opponents. Lindner then left Leipsic for Weimar, where he studied zealously, and composed the above-mentioned opera, which was at once accepted on the small hut celebrated stage of this town, and has now appeared on the greater one of Dresden. This opera is half romantic, half lyric, and does not lack the humorous elements. It abounds in melody, a great rarity in our times, and the romance (Lied) is its best part.
     Though the music is not precisely overpowering, it is very sweet and pleasing; one sees that a great talent has been at work, if not a genius.
     The libretto is very nice on the whole, in some parts even charmingly poetical and melodious.
     The scene is laid in an Earldom on the Rhine. The master-thief, Walifried, a young nobleman who ten years before had been put into a convent as younger son, has fled from it, and has since then been the companion of roving minstrels and Bohemians. Having heard of his elder brother’s death, he comes home to claim his rights. There he sees Waldmu the, the only daughter of Count Berengar, the Seigneur of the Earldom. As her features are as sweet as her voice, and as the father guards his treasures better than his daughter, Wallfried falls in love with her, and after artfully robbing her of her necklace, he even steals a kiss from her rosy lips. At first she reproaches him, but at last willingly leaves her ornament in his hands, which he keeps as a token of seeing her again.
     At a fair, where Wallfried for the last time makes merry with his companions, and sings to them the song of the pretty Annchen — by the bye, a pearl of elegance and delicacy — he sees Count Berengar and his daughter, and at once reclaims his own name and castle as Heir von Sterneck from the Seigneur. But Waldmuthe’s companion, Hertha, sees her mistress’ chain on Wallfried’s neck, and as our hero will not tell how he came by it, he is considered a thief. His friend Marquard now pleads for him, intimating that he took the chain only to show his adroitness as a master-thief. Count Berengar, hearing this, orders him to give three proofs of his skill. First he is to rob the Count of his dearest treasure, which is guarded by his soldiers and which then will be his own ; secondly he is to steal the Count himself from his palace, and finally he must rob the Count of his own personality. Should he fail in one of these efforts, he is to be hanged.
     These tests seem to be very difficult, but Wallfried promises to fulfil his task on the very same day.
     In the second act Wallfried arrives with two friends at the Count’s castle. All three are in pilgrim’s garb, and bring a beautiful wassail-horn to the Count in token of friendship from the Sire of Rodenstein. The sentry and the Count consider these pious guests harmless, and the Count, being a great amateur of good wine, drinks and sings with them, and soon gets drunk. The roundelays are full of wit and humor, and particularly Wallfried’s song, with the charming imitation of the spinning-wheel in the orchestra, is of great effect. At last one of the pilgrims intimates that though the wine be good, they have drunk a far better at the clergyman’s in the village. This seems incredible to the Count, and lie is willing to put it to the test. He goes with his guests out of his castle, and so the second of his orders, to steal his own person, is already accomplished.
     Wallfried, however, stays behind to rob the Count of his most valuable treasure, which he deems to he the young Countess herself. While the soldiers carefully guard the jewels and diamonds in the tower, Waldmuthe steps on her balcony and confides her love to the moon. Wallfried, hearing her confession, easily persuades her to follow him, as she hopes thereby to save his life, and so the first condition is likewise fulfilled.
     In the third act the Bohemians (Wallfried’s companions) have carried the Count into the forest, and having robbed him of his clothes, dress him in the clergyman’s cassock. The Count, awaking from his inebriety, is quite confused. His misery after the debauch is most funnily and expressively depicted in the orchestration. His confusion increases when the Bohemians, dressed as peasants, greet him as “Seigneur Pastor,” and when even Benno, the warden of Sterneck, calls him by this name — for everybody is in the plot — he storms and rages, but grows the more troubled. At last Wallfried makes his appearance in the mask of Count Berengar, speaking’ of his presumed daughter and of her love. Then the mists of the wine gather thicker around the Count’s tortured brain; he repeats Wallfried’s words, and when alone says aloud, “There goes Count Berengar; now I believe myself to be the pastor.” Thus, too, the third order is fulfilled; he is robbed of himself.
     Waldmuthe, stealing up to him, roguishly laughing, repeats the tests, and now the Count at once becomes sober. Of course he is in wrath at first, and most unwilling to give his only child to one who has passed part of his life with Bohemians. But Waldmuthe reminds him of his own youth, how audaciously he had won his wife, her mother, and how he had promised her to care for their daughter’s happiness. The tender father cannot resist her touching and insinuating appeal, but resolves to try Wallfried’s sincerity. When the latter reminds him that he has only executed the Count’s own orders, though in a somewhat different sense, Berengar willingly grants him the title and domains of Sterneck, but refuses his daughter, telling him to choose instead his finest jewels. Wallfried haughtily turns from him to join his old comrades, and refuses name and heritage, which would be worthless to him withont his bride. But the maiden is as noble as her lover; she rushes up to him, ready to brave her father’s scorn as well as the world’s dangers. Then the Count, persuaded of the young fellow’s noble heart, folds him in his embrace, and readily gives his benediction to the union.

DER MAURER
(THE MASON)

Opera in three acts by Auber

Text by Scribe

     This charming little work is one of the best semi-comic operas ever composed ; from the time of its first representation in Paris until now it has never lacked success.
     The libretto is founded on a true anecdote, and is admirably suited to the music.
     The scene is laid in Paris in the year 1788. The first act represents the merry wedding of Roger, a mason, with Henrietta, sister of Baptiste, a locksmith. A jealous old hag, Mistress Bertrand, who would fain have married the nice young man, is wondering whence the poor mason has the money for his wedding, when suddenly a young nobleman, Léon de Mérinville, appears, greeting Roger warmly. He relates to the astonished hearers that Roger saved his life, but would not take any reward, nor tell his name. Roger explains that the nobleman put so much money into his pocket, that it enabled him to marry his charming Henrietta, but Mérinville is determined to do more for him. Meanwhile Roger tries to withdraw from the ball with his young wife; but Henrietta is called back by her relations according to custom. Roger, being left alone, is accosted by two unknown men, who, veiling his eyes, force him to follow them to a spot unknown to him, in order to do some mason-work for them. It is to the house of Abdallab, the Turkish ambassador, that he is led. The latter has heard that his mistress Irma, a young Greek maiden, is about to take flight with a French officer, who is no other than de Mérinville.
     The lovers are warned by a slave, named Rica, but it is too late; Abdallah’s people overtake and bind them. They are brought into a cavern, the entrance to which Roger is ordered to wall up. There, before him, he finds his friend and brother-in-law, Baptiste, who was likewise caught, and is now forced to help him.
     Recognizing in the officer his benefactor, Roger revives hope in him by singing a song which Léon heard him sing at the time he saved his life.
     Meanwhile, Henrietta has passed a dreadful night, not being able to account for her husband’s absence. In the morning Mistress Bertrand succeeds in exciting the young wife’s sorrow and jealousy to a shocking degree, so that when Roger at last appears, she receives him with a volley of reproaches and questions.
     Roger, unhappy about Mérinville’s fate and ignorant of where he has been in the night, scarcely listens to his wife’s complaints, until Henrietta remarks that she well knows where he has been, Mistress Bertrand having recognized the carriage of the Turkish ambassador, in which he was wheeled away.
     This brings light into Roger’s brain, and without more ado he rushes to the police, with whose help the poor prisoners are delivered. Roger returns with Mériuville to his wife’s house, where things are cleared up in the most satisfactory manner.

MELUSINE

Romantic Opera in three acts by Carl Grammann

Text after C. Camp’s poem of the same name
Tableaux and mise en scène after Schwind’s composition

     The composer of this opera is known in the musical world as the author of many other fine works. He has given us several operas worthy of mention, “St. Andrew’s Night” and “Thusnelda” among others, which were brought on the stage in Dresden some years ago.
     Melusine was first represented in Wiesbaden in 1874 with but small success. Since then the opera has been rewritten, and in part com­pletely changed by the author, and in this new garb has found its first representation in the Dresden Opera House, on May 23, 1891.
     Neither music nor libretto is strikingly original; both remind vividly of Wagner. Nevertheless the opera met with warm applause, the principal part being splendidly rendered in Teresa Malten, and the mise en scène justifying the highest expectations. The beauty of the music lies principally in its coloring, which is often very fine. Its best parts are the tender songs of the nymphs. those parts which lead into the realm of dream and of fairy-land. Once only it soars to a higher dramatic style; it is in the second act (the one which has undergone an entire revision), when Bertram, the natural son, bewails his father.
     On the whole the weak libretto forbids every deeper impression. It is neither natural nor dramatic, and leaves our innermost feelings as cold as the watery element from which it springs.
     The scene is laid in a French Department on the Upper Rhine, where a Duchy of Lusignan can never have existed, about the time of the first Crusade. The first act shows a forest, peopled by water-nymphs and fairies, who enjoy their dances in the light of the full moon. MeInsine, their princess, emerges from her grotto. While they sing and dance, a hunter’s bugle is heard, and Count Raymond of Lusignan appears with Bertram, his half-brother, seeking anxiously for their father. Both search on opposite sides; Bertram disappears, while Raymond, hearing a loud outcry for help, rushes into the hushes whence it comes, not heeding Melusine’s warning, who watches the proceedings half hid­den in her grotto. The nymphs, foreseeing what is going to happen, break out into lamentations, while Melusine sings an old tale of the bloody strife of two brothers. She is already in love with Raymond, whose misfortune she bewails. When he hurries back in wild despair at having slain his father, whose life he tried to save from the tusks of a wild boar — his sword piercing the old man instead of the beast (a deed decreed by fate) — he finds the lovely nymph ready to console him. She presents him with a draught from the magic well, which instantly brings him forgetfulness of the past (compare Nibelung’s-ring). The Count drinks it, and immediately glowing with love for the beautiful maiden, wooes her as his wife. Me­lusine consents to the union under the condition that he pledges himself by a solemn oath never to blame her, nor to spy her out should she leave him in the full-moon nights. Raymond prom­ises, and the sun having risen, the hunters find him in his bride’s company. He presents their future mistress to them, and all render homage; only Bertram, struck to the heart by Melusine’s loveliness, which is not for him, stands scorn-fully aside.
     The first scene of e second act represents the sepulchral crypt of he Lusignan family. The old Duke has been found dead in the for­est, and a choir of monks sings the Requiem. Bertram’s mournful song and the lament of the women are of surpassing beauty; also the con­trasting sounds from merry music of Raymond’s wedding procession, now and then heard, cause an excellent musical effect. A hermit, Peter von Amiens, now entering, comforts the widowed Duchess and warns them all of Melusine. He relates the legend of the water-fairy, who with sweet voice and mien entices and seduces human beings. The poor mother implores Heaven to save her son, while Bertram invokes Hell to avenge his father on the murderer.
     The scene changes into the park belonging to Raymond’s palace. Raymond and Melusine enjoy their nuptial bliss, until the rising of the full-moon awakes in Melusine the irresistible longing for her native element. Notwithstanding her husband’s entreaties, she tears herself from him, and Raymond, mindful of his oath, retires. But Melusine’s steps are interrupted by Bertram, who has tracked her, and now declares his love. She scornfully rejects him, and he, enraged and jealous, threatens to betray Raymond, whose bloody sword he has found at the spot where their father was murdered. But Melusine escapes to the gray temple in the garden, and she prophesies that Raymond will be happy as long as he keeps her faith, and then vanishes into the interior. Bertram remains motionless and stunned, until he hears Raymond’s voice, who is waiting for his wife. Spurred by every evil feeling of hate and envy, he peremptorily asks Raymond to surrender all his possessions, his wife Melusine, even his life, deeming that his brother has forfeited every right through the murder. But Raymond, oblivious of the deed through the effect of the magic draught, draws his sword, when his mother interferes. The Duchess repeats to her son the suspicion expressed by the hermit in re­gard to Melusine, and Raymond anxiously calls for her to refute the accusation. But instead of his wife, sweet songs are heard from the temple; he forgets his oath, spies into its interior through a cleft, and perceives the place of the nixies, with Melusine in their midst. Recognizing his fate, Raymond sinks back with a despairing cry.
     In the third act the fishermen and women as­semble on the banks of the Rhine at day-break, preparing for their daily work. They also know the Count’s wife to be a mermaid, and they sing a ballad of the water-nymph. Suddenly Melusine appears, and they take flight. Melusine, finding the gates of her husband’s castle closed, vainly calls for him. His mother answers in his stead, charging her with witchcraft, and refusing to admit her. Melusine, sure of Raymond’s love, undauntedly answers that only Raymond’s want of faith could undo her. In the meantime a herald announces the arrival of Crusaders with Peter von Amiens. The latter exhorts Count Raymond to join the holy army in order to expiate his father’s murder. Raymond is willing to go, when Melusine entreats him not to leave her. All present press around to insult her, only Bertram steps forth as her protector, once more showing Raymond’s bloody sword, an act which she alone understands. She kneels to him in order to save her husband, but Raymond, misunderstanding her movements, accuses her of secret intercourse with Bertram, and in a fit of jealousy disowns her. Scarcely have the luckless words escaped his lips, than a violent sound of thunder is heard. Melusine curses the palace, and throws her husband’s ring at his feet. She disappears in the Rhine, Bertram leaping after her ; the stream overflows its banks, and a flash of light-ni ng destroys the castle. Gradually the scene changes to the one of sylvan solitude in the first act. Raymond appears in pilgrim’s garb to seek for his lost love (see “Tannhäuser “) ; Melusine once more emerges from her grotto to comfort him, but also to bring him death. Happily, he dies in her embrace, she buries him under water-lilies and returns to her watery domains.

MERLIN

Opera in three acts by Charles Goldmark

Text by Siegfried Lipiner

     This creation of the talented composer at once proved itself a success when produced for the first time in the Opera House in Vienna. Since then it has quickly passed to all the larger stages.
     Merlin surpasses the Queen of Sheba in dramatic value, and is equal to it in glowing coloring and brilliant orchestration. Goldmark is quite the reverse of Wagner. Though equally master of modern instrumentation, he abounds in melodies. Airs, duets, and choruses meet us of surpassing beauty and sweetness. The text is highly fantastic, but interesting and poetical.
     King Artus is attacked by the Saxons and almost succumbs. In his need he sends Lancelot to Merlin, an enchanter and seer, but at the same time the King’s best friend and a knight of his table.
     Merlin, offspring of the Prince of Hell and of a pure virgin, has power over the demons, whom, however, he only employs in the service of Heaven, his good mother’s spirit protecting him. Merlin calls up a demon, whom he forces to blind the heathen Saxons, so that the Britons may be victorious. The demon obeys unwillingly, and after Merlin’s departure he calls up the fairy Morgana, who knows all the secrets of the world. Morgana tells the demon that if Merlin loves an earthly woman, his power will be gone, and the demon resolves to tempt Merlin with the most beautiful woman on earth. He vanishes, and the Britons return victorious, Merlin with prophetic insight recognizing the knight who had betrayed his people to the Saxons. While he sings a passionate chant in honor of his King and his country, Vivien, a Puke’s daughter, appears, and they are at once attracted to each other. But Merlin vanquishes his love, and refuses to accept the crown of oak-leaves which his King offers him by the hand of Vivien. Then Artus takes his own crown and puts it on Merlin’s curls.
     The second act begins with a conspiracy headed by Modred, Artus’ nephew, against his uncle. Lancelot openly accuses him of treason, and the King sends to Merlin for judgment. But alas! Merlin’s love has already blinded his understanding; he fails to detect the culpable Modred, and declares that he is not able to find fault in him. King Artus and his knights depart to seek new laurels, leaving the country in Modred’s hands. Merlin stays in his sanctum, to where the demon now leads Vivien, who has lost her way. The doors of the temple open by themselves at Vivien’s request, and she finds a rosy, glittering veil, which, thrown into the air, causes various charming apparitions to present themselves. When Merlin comes, the whole charm vanishes into air. Vivien tells him of her delightful adventure, but Merlin, frightened, informs her that whoever is touched by the veil will be in the power of demons, chained to a rock forever. Love conquers, and the short hour succeeding is for both filled with earth’s greatest bliss. The news of Modred’s treachery to King Artus awakes Merlin from his dream. He tears himself from his love, vowing to shun her forever, and to return to the well of grace. But Vivien, finding all her prayers vain, throws the fatal veil over him to binder his flight. The dread­ful effect becomes instantly apparent ; the rose-garden disappears, mighty rocks enclose the vale on all sides, and Merlin is held down by burning chains.
     While Vivien is consumed by self-reproach and pain, the fairy Morgana appears, telling her that love, which is stronger than death, can bring Merlin eternal grace. Vivien is led away by her maid, and Lancelot enters with the knights to seek Merlin’s help against the treacherous Modred.
     Seeing Merlin in this pitiful state, he sadly turns from him, but Merlin in despair promises his soul to the demon, if he hut assist to deliver his King and his country. The demon breaks the chains, and Merlin rushes with the knights into battle. During his absence Vivien prepares herself to receive her hero, but though she sees him return victorious, he is wounded to death. The demon comes up to claim his victim, but Vivien, remembering Morgana ‘s words, sacrifices herself, piercing her heart at Merlin’s feet. The demon disappears, cursing heaven and earth, while Artus and his knights, though they sadly mourn for their hero, yet praise the victory of true love.

THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR

Comic Opera in three acts by Otto Nicolai

Text by Mosenthal

     This charming opera has achieved the fame of its composer, of whom very little is known, except that he is the author of this really admirable musical composition, which is valued not only in Germany but all over Europe. Its overture is played by almost every orchestra, and the choruses and songs are both delightful and original. As may be gathered from the title, the whole amusing story is taken from Shakespeare’s comedy.
     Falstaff has written love-letters to the wives of two citizens of Windsor, Mrs. Fluth and Mrs. Reich. They discover his duplicity and decide to punish the infatuated old fool.
     Meanwhile, Mr. Fenton, a nice but poor young man, asks for the hand of Miss Anna Reich. But her father has already chosen a richer suitor for his daughter in the person of silly Mr. Spärlich.
     In the following scene Sir John Falstaff is amiably received by Mrs. Fluth, when suddenly Mrs. Reich arrives, telling them that Mr. Fluth will be with them at once, having received notice of his wife’s doings. Falstaff is packed into a washing basket and carried away from under Mr. Fluth’s nose by two men, who are hidden to put the contents in a canal near the Thames, and the jealous husband, finding nobody, receives sundry lectures from his offended wife.
     In the second act Mr. Fluth, mistrusting his wife, makes Falstaff’s acquaintance, under the assumed name of Bach, and is obliged to hear an account of the worthy Sire’s gallant adventure with his wife, and its disagreeable issue. Fluth persuades Falstaff to give him a rendezvous, swearing inwardly to punish the old coxcomb for his impudence.
     In the evening Miss Anna meets her lover, Fenton, in the garden, and ridiculing her two suitors, Spärlich and Dr. Gaius, a Frenchman, she promises to remain faithful to her love. The two others, who are hidden behind some trees, must perforce listen to their own dispraise.
     When the time has come for Falstaff’s next visit to Mrs. Fluth, who of course knows of her husband’s renewed suspicion, Mr. Fluth surprises his wife and reproaches her violently with her conduct. During this controversy Falstaff is disguised as an old woman, and when the neighbors come to help the husband in his search they find only an old deaf cousin of Mrs. Fluth’s who has come from the country to visit her. Nevertheless the hag gets a good thrashing from the duped and angry husband.
     In the last act everybody is in the forest, preparing for the festival of Herne the Hunter. All are masked, and Sir John Falstaff, being led on by the two merry wives, is surprised by Herne (Fluth), who sends the whole chorus of wasps, flies, and mosquitoes onto his broad back. They torment and punish him till he loudly cries for mercy. Fenton, in the mask of Oberon, has found his Anna in Queen Titania, while Dr. Gains and Spärlich, mistaking their masks for Anna’s, sink into each other’s arms, much to their mutual discomfiture.
     Mr. Fluth and Mr. Reich, seeing that, their wives are innocent and that they only made fun of Falstaff, are quite happy, and the whole scene ends with a general pardon.

MIGNON

Opera in three acts by Ambroise Thomas

Text by Michel Carré and Jules Barbier

     This opera is full of French grace and vivacity, and has been favorably received in Germany. The authors have used for their libretto Goethe’s celebrated novel, “Wilhelm Meister,” with its typical figure, Mignon, as heroine, though very much altered.
     The first two acts take place in Germany.
     Lothario, a half-demented old man, poorly clad as a wandering minstrel, seeks his lost daughter, Sperata. Mignon comes with a band of gipsies, who abuse her because she refuses to dance. Lothario advances to protect her, but Jarno, the chief of the troop, only scorns him, until a student, Wilhelm Meister, steps forth and rescues her, a young actress named Philine compensating the gipsy for his loss by giving him all her loose cash. Mignon, grateful for the rescue, falls in love with Wilhelm and wants to follow and serve him, but the young man, though delighted with her loveliness and humility, is not aware of her love. Nevertheless he takes her with him. He is of good family, but by a whim just now stays with a troop of comedians, to whom he takes his protégée. The coquette Philine loves Wilhelm, and has completely enthralled him by her arts and graces. She awakes bitter jealousy in Mignon, who tries to drown herself, but is hindered by the sweet strains of Lothario’s harp, which ap­peal to the nobler feelings of her nature. The latter always keeps near her, watching over the lovely child. He instinctively feels himself attracted towards her; she recalls his lost daugh­ter to him, and he sees her as abandoned and lonely as himself. Mignon, hearing how celebrated Philine is, wishes that the palace within which Philine plays might be struck by light­ning, and Lothario at once executes her wish by setting the house on fire.
     While the guests rush into the garden, Philine orders Mignon to fetch her nosegay, the same flowers which the thoughtless youth offered to his mistress Philine. Mignon, reproaching herself for her sinful wish, at once flies into the burning house, and only afterward does her friend Laërtes perceive that the theatre has caught fire too. Everybody thinks Mignon lost, but Wilhelm, rushing into the flames, is happy enough to rescue her.
     The third act carries us to Italy, where the sick Mignon has been brought. Wilhelm, having discovered her love, which she reveals in her delirium, vows to live only for her. Lothario, no longer a minstrel, receives them as the owner of the palace, from which he had been absent since the loss of his daughter. While he shows Mignon the relics of the past, a scarf and a bracelet of corals are suddenly recognized by her. She begins to remember her infantine prayers, she recognizes the hall with the marble statues and her mother’s picture on the wall. With rapture Lothario embraces his long-lost Sperata. But Mignon’s jealous love has found out that Philine followed her, and she knows no peace until Wilhelm has proved to her satis­faction that he loves her best.
     At last Philine graciously renounces Wilhelm and turns to Friedrich, one of her many adorers, whom to his own great surprise she designates as her future husband. Mignon at last openly avows her passion for Wilhelm. The people, hearing of the arrival of their master, the Marquis of Gypriani, alias Lothario, come to greet him with loud acclamations of joy, which grow still louder when he presents to them his daughter Sperata, and Wilhelm, her chosen husband.

LA MUETTE DE PORTICI

Grand historical Opera in five acts by Auber

Text by Scribe

     This opera was first put on the stage in the Grand Opera House at Paris in the year 1828, and achieved for its author universal celebrity, not only because in it Auber rises to heights which he never reached either before or after, but because it is purely historical. The “Muette” is like a picture which attracts by its vivid reproduction of nature. In the local tone, the southern temper, Auber has succeeded in masterly fashion, and the text forms an admirable background to the music. Its subject is the revolution of Naples in the year 1647, and the rise and fall of Masaniello, the fisherman King.
     In the first act we witness the wedding of Alfonso, son of the Viceroy of Naples, with the Spanish Princess Elvira. Alfonso, who has seduced Fenella, the Neapolitan Masaniello’s dumb sister, and abandoned her, is tormented by doubts and remorse, fearing that she has committed suicide. During the festival Fenella rushes in to seek protection from the Viceroy, who has kept her a prisoner for the past month. She has escaped from her prison and narrates the story of her seduction by gestures, showing a scarf which her lover gave her. Elvira promises to protect her, and proceeds to the altar, Fenella vainly trying to follow. In the chapel Fenella recognizes her seducer in the bridegroom of the Princess. When the newly married couple come out of the church, Elvira pre­sents Fenella to her husband, and discovers from the dumb girl’s gestures that he was her faithless lover. Fenella flies, leaving Alfonso and Elvira in sorrow and despair.
     In the second act the fishermen, who have been brooding in silence over the tyranny of their foes, begin to assemble. Pietro, Masaniello’s friend, has sought for Fenella in vain, but at length she appears of her own accord and confesses her wrongs. Masaniello is infuriated, and swears to have revenge, but Fenella, who still loves Alfonso, does not mention his name. Then Masaniello calls the fishermen to arms, and they swear perdition to the enemy of their country.
     In the third act we find ourselves in the market place in Naples, where the people go to and fro, selling and buying, all the while concealing their purpose under a show of merriment and carelessness. Selva, the officer of the Viceroy’s body-guard, from whom Fenella has escaped, discovers her and the attempt to rearrest her is the sign for a general revolt, in which the people are victorious.
     In the fourth act Fenella comes to her brother’s dwelling and describes the horrors which are taking place in the town. The relation fills his noble soul with sorrow and disgust. When Fenella has retired to rest, Pietro enters with comrades and tries to excite Masaniello to further deeds, but he only wants liberty and shrinks from murder and cruelties.
     They tell him that Alfonso has escaped, and that they are resolved to overtake and kill him. Fenella, who hears all, decides to save her lover. At this moment Alfonso hegs at her door for a hiding place. He enters with Elvira, and Fenella, though at first disposed to avenge herself on her rival, pardons her for Alfonso’s sake. Masaniello, reëntering, assures the strangers of his protection, and even when Pietro denounces Alfonso as the Viceroy’s son he holds his promise sacred. Pietro, with his fellow-conspirators, leaves him full of rage and hatred.
     Meanwhile the magistrate of the city presents Masaniello with the royal crown, and lie is proclaimed King of Naples.
     In the fifth act we find Pietro, with the other fishermen, before the Viceroy’s palace. He confides to Moreno that he has administered poison to Masaniello in order to punish him for his treason, and that the King of one day will soon die. While he speaks, Borella rushes in to tell of a fresh troop of soldiers marching against the people, with Alfonso at their head. Knowing that Masaniello alone can save them, the fishermen entreat him to take the command of them once more, and Masaniello, though deadly ill and half bereft of his reason, complies with their request. The combat takes place while an eruption of Vesuvins is going on. Masaniello falls in the act of saving Elvira’s life. On hearing these terrible tidings, Fenella rushes to the terrace, from which she leaps into the abyss be­neath, while the fugitive noblemen again take possession of the city.

MANON

Opera in five acts by Jules Massenet

Text by H. Meilhac and P. Gille

     Massenet possesses the foresight to always select subjects for his operas which are eminently suited to his peculiar genius, and this is especially true in the adoption of Manon from Abbe Prevost’s famous romance “Manon Lescaut.” The music, which is full of poetry and refinement, suits the story admirably. It was first presented with great success at the Opera Comique, Paris, in 1884, and is considered to he one of the best of modern French operas.
     The action takes place in the year 1721, the first act presenting the inn at Amiens, where Guillot Monfontain, Minister of Finance, and a roué, is making merry with a party of friends. In the midst of their festivities, Manon, a vain and beautiful adventuress, arrives at the Inn, in company with her cousin, Lescaut, of the Royal Guards. Guillot, struck with the beauty of Manon, leaves his friends, and tries to entice her to go with him, but is rebuked by her, and is finally compelled to retreat. Lescaut, after warning his cousin against Guillot, leaves her for a short time on business, and during his absence the Chevalier Des Grieux arrives at the Inn, and immediately falls in love with Manon on account of her beauty and seeming simplicity. Although’ about to take holy orders, he becomes so infatuated with her that he consents to her plan of making use of Guillot’s carriage to elope, and they drive to Paris, where they are found in the second act, comfortably established in cozy apartments in the Rue Vivienne. They are interrupted by the entrance of the enraged Leseaut and his friend De Bretigny, a nobleman who is in love with Manon. The two men are pacified on hearing that Des Grieux has written to his father for consent to his marriage with Manon, but it so happens that the Count, his father, refuses to give his consent, and Des Grieux is seized by men in his father’s employ, and is taken away from his love and placed in captivity.
     The third act reveals the fête of Cours la Reine where Manon is under the protection of De Bretigny. They encounter Count Des Grieux, who informs De Bretigny that his son has entered the Seminary of St. Sulpice, as a priest, on account of the conduct of Manon. On hearing this, all Manon’s love for the Chevalier returns, and she flies from De Bretigny to rejoin her lover. After a great struggle with himself Des Grieux finally succumbs to the entreaties of Manon, and renouncing the priesthood, goes forth again into the gay world.
     The fourth act is the interior of a fashionable gambling house in Paris. Des Grieux and Manon enter, and, after much persuasion, the Chevalier consents to play, in hopes of winning riches for the pleasure-loving Manon. He plays in remarkable luck, and after winning continually from Guillot, is unjustly accused by him of cheating, and trouble ensues. The Chevalier and Manon are both on the point of being arrested when the Count Des Grieux appears and releases his son, but Manon, is captured and condemned to exile.
     In the last act, Lescaut and Des Grieux are seen hiding in a lonely spot on the road to Havre, where Manon is to pass on her way to exile. By hribing a soldier, the unhappy lover succeeds in obtaining an interview with Manon. He urges her to try and escape with him, but she is too weak from fatigne, and, after praying him to forgive her for unworthiness, the repentant Manon dies in the arms of the grief-stricken Chevalier.

MANRU

Romantic opera in three acts by I. J. Paderewski

Text by Alfred Nossig

     The plot of this opera is Paderewski’s own conception. It was first presented under his direction at the Court Theatre, Dresden, May 29, 1901. The opera as a piece of real musical workmanship proves conclusively the author’s right to recognition as a composer, as well as a musician. He skilfully introduces the violin and other musical instruments, and there is a delicacy and beauty throughout the score which secures a distinct success for the opera.
     The scene is laid in the Tatra Mountains, between Galicia and Hungary. The first acts presents a village scene in the mountains where Hedwig is seen bemoaning the loss of her daughter Ulana, who has run away with gypsy Manru. Ulana suddenly appears in the village, and coming to her mother’s cottage begs f or-giveness for herself and her lover. Hedwig promises to forgive her if she will renounce Manru forever, but this the girl persistently refuses to do, and finally her mother in a rage drives her from the door with curses. Ulana then seeks the assistance of Urok, a dwarf and reputed sorcerer, who has often confessed his love for her. From him she obtains a magic potion with which she hopes to win back the love of Manru, who has already begun to tire of his exile, and to long for the old roving life of the Gypsies.
     The second act shows a hut in the mountains, where Ulana is singing a lullaby to her infant, while Manru is struggling between his love and his desire to join the Gypsies. Urok enters the hut, and suddenly beautiful violin music is heard in the distance, which Manru recognizes as coming from the Gypsy fiddler, Jogu. The charm of the music proves too much for him, and he rushes from the hut and disappears in the forest. Jogu tries to persuade him to rejoin the band and be their chief, telling him that the beautiful Gypsy maiden Asa is pining with love for him. In the midst of his temptation Ulana appears and finally persuades him to return to the hut, where she gives him a drink of the magic potion. This has the effect of temporarily winning back his love.
     The third act reveals a lake in the mountains, where Manru is seen wandering in the moonlight. He hears strange voices echoing through the mountains, and, becoming weary, falls aslecp beneath the trees, where he is found shortly after by the band of Gypsies. The maiden Asa recognizes him immediately, and begs Oros, the Gypsy chief, to forgive him and receive him back into the tribe. Oros refuses to comply with her wishes, and finding his people ready to forgive Manru, leaves the band in anger. Manru is finally persuaded by Asa to accept the position of chief in Oros’ stead. Urok suddenly appears in their midst and pleads with Manru not to desert Ulana and his child, but all in vain, as Manru finally succumbs to the alluring smiles of Asa and disappears in the mountains with the Gypsy band.

     On hearing of her desertion, Ulana, maddened with grief, throws herself into the lake and is drowned. Manru and Asa, walking down the mountain path with their arms about each other, are suddenly confronted by Oros, who, grappling with Manru, hurls him into the abyss, thereby regaining his position as chief of the Gypsies.

MEFISTOFELE

Grand Opera in prologue, four acts, and epilogue

Music and text by Arrigo Boito

     This is one of the strongest Italian operas, and the composer is often called the “Italian Wagner.” It was first presented in Milan in 1868. The libretto is a paraphrase of Goethe’s Faust, and is treated from a dramatic, rather than a philosophical, point of view. The music, which is a combination of Italian and German styles, is strikingly powerful and original in character.
     The scene of the Prologue is laid in the re­gions of space, where Mefistofele makes a wager with the Deity that he will gain a victory over the powers of Heaven by enticing Faust to commit evil.
     The first act is in the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main, where Faust and his pupil, Wagner, are seen amid the crowd, followed continually by a Gray Friar, who is Mefistofele in disguise. Faust returns to his laboratory, still pursued by the Friar, who conceals himself in an alcove. The sight of Faust reading the Bible brings Mefistofele out with a shriek, and throwing off his disguise appears in the dress of a knight, and reveals his real identity. Faust promises to serve him under certain conditions, and the compact being made the demon spreads his cloak and both disappear through the air.
     The second act discloses Faust (under the name of Henry) and Margaret, Mefistofele and Martha strolling through a rustic garden, chatting and love-making. The scene suddenly changes to the heights of the Brocken, where, amid the celebration of the Witches’ Sabbath, Mefistofeles discloses to Faust a vision of the sorrowful Margaret, fettered in chains.
     In the third act, Margaret is seen in prison, lying upon a heap of straw, where she has been committed for poisoning her mother and killing her babe. Mefistofele and Faust appear, and the latter urges Margaret to escape with him, but Mefistofele recalls to her the reality of her situation, and she shrinks away from her lover and falls dying. The voices of angels are soon heard in the distance, announcing that her soul has been received in Heaven.
     In the fourth act, Mefistofele takes Faust to the beautiful banks of the Peneus, in the vale of Tempe, during the night of the classic Sabbath. Faust pays court to Helen of Troy, and pledging their love and devotion, they wander in ecstasy amid the beauties of their surroundings.
     In the Epilogue which follows, the aged Faust is seen in his laboratory mourning over his past life and praying for a happier one to come. Mefistofele, fearing to lose him, urges him to fly once more, but he resists the temptation. As a last resort, Mefistofele summons a vision of beautiful sirens, and Faust, though sorely tempted, again resists the demon by turning to his Bible and praying for help.
     His prayer is answered, and, as he dies, the celestial choir announces his salvation.

MANON LESCAUT

Opera in four acts by Giacomo PUCCINI

     The plot of this opera, by Giacomo Puccini, is founded on the famous story by the Abbé Prevost, entitled "Manon Léscaut." The opera was first produced in 1893, in Milan.
     The first act takes place at Amiens. The scene is a large square near the Paris Gate. On the right is an avenue, and on the left an inn, under whose porch are tables for customers. An outer staircase leads to the upper floor of the inn. A mixed crowd of students, citizens, women, and soldiers are strolling about the square and along the avenue. Some are gaming. Edmund enters with some other students, followed later by Des Grieux. The students act as a chorus to Edmund’s "Hail, beautiful night!" When Des Grieux enters in melancholy mood the students joke him. The girls, for whom the students have been waiting, now enter from their work. They turn away from Des Grieux, and Edmund begs his friends to leave him alone. A postillion’s horn is heard and a diligence arrives, from which Léscaut, Geronte, and Manon alight. Des Grieux is enchanted with Manon’s beauty, and when Léscaut goes into the inn, approaches Manon, and obtains her consent to meet him later. Lescaut comes back with Geronte. He has brought his sister Manon to enter her in a convent. Geronte, who is enamored of the girl, tells Lescaut that his pretty little sister seems unhappy. He invites Lescaut to sup with him, and Lescaut accepts the invitation. Lescaut is attracted by the gamblers and takes part in their gaming. Geronte, seeing Lescaut absorbed in the game, determines to run away with Manon. He tells the innkeeper he will want horses and a carriage in an hour, and that he must keep silent if he sees a man and a maiden go off. Edmund overhears the conversation, and suggests to Des Grieux that he should run away with Manon and take Geronte’s place in the carriage. Manon keeps her assignation with Des Grieux, and the two go off as Lescaut and Geronte appear on the scene. Geronte is then told by Edmund that Manon has gone off with the young student. In disgusted astonishment, Geronte disturbs Lescaut in his play and tries to prevail upon him to follow the flying pair. Lescaut, however, will have the supper promised him, and says he will go after Manon in the morning. The curtain falls to the sound of loud laughter from the students.
     In the second act the scene changes from Amiens to Paris. The curtain goes up discovering a handsomely furnished room in Geronte’s house, in which Manon is now living as his mis-tress. She had left Des Grieux when his money was gone. Manon is seated at her toilet-table, waited on by the hair-dresser with two assistants. She is instructing the hair-dresser to be careful in the work of doing her hair. Lescaut now enters and congratulates his sister on her change in life. Manon keeps instructing the hair-dresser, and, when the toilet is finally completed, steps forward to be admired by her brother. In spite of her brother’s praise of her beauty and position, Manon is sad at having left Des Grieux. She is always thinking of him. Geronte is old, and bad, and a bore. Singers now enter, sent by Geronte to amuse Manon, and they sing a madrigal in praise of Manon’s beauty. Manon gives her brother money with which to pay the singers, but Lescaut pockets the purse, saying he could not insult them by offering them money. He bids them farewell in the name of glory, and the singers bow themselves out. Geronte now enters, bringing with him a dancing-master, musicians, and some old friends. Manon is bored by them all. Under Geronte’s instructions a minuet is danced, in which Manon takes part, led by the dancing-master.
     Geronte now suggests that it is time to take a stroll on the boulevards, and begs Manon to join them there later. He leaves, kissing Manon’s hand, and all depart with him. Manon is alone, and busies herself arranging her toilet for the promenade, while waiting for the sedan chair Geronte has gone to order. Des Grieux suddenly appears, and they renew their love vows in a charming duet. They have barely finished embracing each other when Geronte comes back. They separate hurriedly, in surprise at being discovered. Des Grieux makes a menacing step forward towards Geronte, but Manon places herself between them. Geronte jeers at her and reminds her of all that he has done for her. She answers him by placing a mirror in his hand and bids him look there and he will see why she cannot love him. Geronte controls his anger and leaves the two together, smiling in sarcasm, and promising them that they will meet again quickly. The lovers are overjoyed at being-left alone. They determine to go away together. Manon, however, is loth to leave her jewels and pretty dresses. Des Grieux is bitter at her disposition, which can be so easily led by the allurements of pretty things rather than by love. Manon is moved by his despair and begs forgiveness. She swears to be true and faithful to him. Lescaut now enters hurriedly and en-treats them to get. away at once. The vile old scoundrel, as he calls Geronte, has called the guards, and these must be now on their way. Manon quickly seizes her jewels, and she and Des Grieux make for the door. They find it locked. Lescaut pushes Manon and Des Grieux into an alcove and follows after them. A scream from Manon is heard, and immediately after she rushes out of the alcove, followed by Des Grieux and her brother. ‘From the open curtains of the alcove come soldiers. The door is now burst open and soldiers rush in to arrest Manon. In trying to escape, Manon lets fall the jewels. She is dragged away by the soldiers, who’ will not permit Des Grieux to go with them.
     An Intermezzo is now played, during which Des Grieux declares his intention to follow Manon even to the end of the world.
     The third act takes place in Havre. The scene is a square near the harbor. On the left is a soldiers’ prison, showing a window protected by iron bars. On the side looking’ towards the square is a large closed gate, at which a sentinel, stands guard. ‘In the distant harbor. a man-of-war ship is partly visible. Manon is in prison, and Des Grieux and Lescaut have come, to Havre to be near her. Des Grieux, is distracted with grief. Lescaut tells Des Grieux he has bribed an archer, who will take the guard’s place when the latter is relieved. As the dawn breaks Lescaut approaches the barracks, and, exchanging a sign with the new sentinel, goes up to the barred window and taps cautiously. Manon appears at the window, and is overjoyed at seeing Des Grieux. She tells them she is to be taken to America. They attempt a rescue, but they are disturbed in their efforts by the firing of shots. They are compelled to leave. A guard appears, bringing a number of women who are to sail to America; Manon is one of them. As they pass by, Lescaut points out his sister to one of the citizens, who have come to watch the embarkation, and tells him that he knows her story. She was abducted from her young lover. Des Grieux attempts to walk by Manon’s side, but the sergeant of the guard pushes him aside roughly. Des Grieux threatens him, and entreats Manon to cling to him. Urged on by Lescaut, the citizens take Des Grieux’s part. The captain of the vessel suddenly appears, and, learning what the trouble is, takes pity on Des Grieux and permits him to go on board with the rest for America. Des Grieux is overcome with joy, and Manon, realizing the help that is come to her, opens her arms to her lover, who embraces her. Lescaut, astonished at the turn things have taken, shakes his head and walks away.
     The fourth act takes, us to America. The scene is a great plain near New Orleans. The sky is overcast, and night is falling. Manon and Des Grieux enter, poorly clothed and evidently worn out from fatigue. Manon is exhausted and leans heavily on Des Grieux. They do not know where to find either food or shelter, or even water to drink. Manon is in the last stages of weakness, and Des Grieux is beside himself with despair. He finds a resting place for her, and goes off to look for water. Manon, thinking he has forsaken her entirely, feels there is now no hope for her at all. Only the tomb, she cries, can release her from her burden. Des Grieux comes back in time to be present at her last moments. She dies, declaring her love for him. Des Grieux falls senseless on her body.

MADAME BUTTERFLY

A musical tragedy in three acts by
GIACOMO PUCCINI

     The plot of this opera is founded on the book by John Luther Long and the play by David Belasco. The scene is laid in Nagasaki, Japan, and the action of the drama takes place in our own time. The music, by Puccini, if not of the excellence of the composer’s "La Bohème," is yet of so beautifully melodious a quality and so richly colored by the spirit of the place, which Puccini has felt, that "Madame Butterfly" will undoubtedly remain a standard opera. The opera was first performed in Milan, in 1904.
     The story is the old story of a lover loving a maid and then forsaking her. In this particular instance, however, the novelty lies in the maid being a Japanese lady and the man a lieutenant in the American navy.
     The curtain rises discovering Goro, the matchmaker, showing Lieutenant Pinkerton over the house the latter had just purchased. Pinkerton is to occupy it as soon as he has been married to Cho-Cho-San, the beautiful Japanese girl, who is better known as Butterfly. Goro, who sold Pinkerton the house, also sold him Cho-Cho-San, and the first scene is occupied with Goro’s enjoyment and Pinkerton’s delight in the place. Suzuki, Butterfly’s maid, and two other servants are then introduced to Pinkerton, who is patiently awaiting the arrival of his bride.
     Sharpless, the American Consul at Nagasaki, is heard climbing the hill, and comes on the scene to dissuade his friend Pinkerton from the step he is about .to take. He begs Pinkerton to think seriously of what he is doing, because what may be a passing fancy for him may be a serious affair for the girl. Pinkerton, who is much in love with the girl, laughs at his friend’s arguments, and tlieir talk is interrupted by the arrival of Butterfly and her friends. In the midst of the general greetings Sharpless enters into a conversation with Butterfly and finds that his reading of her attitude to Pinkerton is correct. She tells Sharpless her history, and informs him that, owing to the death of her father, she has had to support her-self and her mother by becoming a Geisha. After the relatives of the girl have made their formal greetings to Pinkerton, Butterfly and Pinkerton go over the house alone, and in a charming conversation the girl’s love for the American sailor is laid bare in all its simple sincerity. More relatives arriving, as well as the proper officials, the ceremony of the marriage contract is duly gone through. In the midst of the joyous toasts an interruption occurs in the coming of Butterfly’s uncle, the Bonze, or Japanese priest, who, learuing that his niece has renounced the faith of her ancestors in order to wed the foreigner, has come to curse her. He urges all her relatives to forsake her for what she has done, and they rush from her in horror. Butterfly, weeping bitterly, is consoled by Pinkerton, who brings her back to smiles and joy. The scene between the two is most charming. The act closes on the happiness of the strangely assorted pair who have thus entered on their life together.
     When ‘the curtain goes up on the second act, three years are supposed to have elapsed, during which time Pinkerton has gone back to America, after promising his wife to return "when the robins nest." Butterfly is alone with her maid, Suzuki, who invokes the gods for the return of the faithless Pinkerton. Butterfly, in spite of the three years’ waiting, is still firm in her faith in her husband. She refuses the Prince Yamadori, who has loved her for years, and who sues her now. In declining the Prince’s offer of marriage she tells him that, though she might consider herself a free woman according to the law of Japan, she has married an American, and must abide by the laws of his country. "How can I marry him," she cries, "when I am married already?" Yamadori leaves and Sharpless enters, bearing a letter from Pinkerton. He is afraid to tell her immediately what the letter says, so he prepares the way by warning her that Pinkerton will never come hack. He advises her to accept Prince Yamadori’s offer. Butterfly will not listen to him. She points to her little baby, a boy with the blue eyes and fair hair of Pinkerton, and asks, "Can such as this well be f orgotten? " She begs Sharpless to write to her husband and tell him what a fine child is waiting for him. Sharpless, much touched, leaves Butterfly without showing her the letter. Suzuki then enters, screaming and denouncing Goro for spreading a report that the child’s father is not known. Butterfly, goaded almost to madness by this calumny, seizes a knife to kill Goro, but, suppressing her anger, she throws the knife away, spurning the wretched man with her foot.
     Cannon shots are just then heard announcing the arrival of a man-of-war ship. Butter-fly rushes to the terrace with her maid Suzuki, and both find that it is the Abraham Lincoln come back again. Immediately Butterfly is transported with joy. She has proved her faith and her husband is coming back to her. It is her reward for her fidelity. She bids Suzuki gather flowers from the garden, and spreads these round the room in honor of Pinkerton’s home-coming. Then the child is brought in, and while Suzuki is combing his hair Butterfly rouges her face to make ready for the meeting with her husband. They all sit down behind a partition, in which they have made holes so as to watch and see Pinkerton’s arrival. Night falls and Pinkerton does not come. Suzuki and ti baby fall asleep, but Butterfly stands moonless, looking and waiting. The curtain falls on this moving picture of the loving and faithful wife waiting in loving expectation the return of the lover who has left her alone.
     The curtain rises on the third act and discovers Butterfly in the same position in which she was when the second act closed. Suzuki and the child are still asleep, and Butterfly is still gazing through the holes of the shosi, or partition. Suzuki awakes and, seeing it is morning, she begs her mistress to lie down and take some rest herself. Butterfly then turns to her child, takes it into her arms, and retires into an inner room. Butterfly has barely retired when a loud knock causes Suzuki to bestir herself. She opens the shosi and sees Sharpless and Pinkerton standing before her. Pinkerton motions to her not to disturb Butterfly, and Suzuki, in her joy at seeing him back again, shows him the room decorated with flowers for his arrival. Suddenly she notices a strange lady walking in the garden, and learns that she is Pinkerton’s American wife.
     Sharpless takes Suzuki aside and. asks her to prepare Butterfly for what is coming, telling her that the lady is come to adopt the little boy. Pinkerton, realizing Butterfly’s faith and life, is overcome by remorse. He begs Sharpless to comfort her as best he can, and leaves the house in tears. Mrs. Pinkerton also comes forward and urges her desire to take the child with her. Suzuki has barely time to act in the situation when Butterfly returns from her room expecting to see her husband. She finds instead Sharpless, a foreign lady, and Suzuki in tears. The truth then suddenly overwhelms her. " Is he alive?" she asks, and Suzuki answers he is. The answer and the manner in which it is given tells Butterfly the terrible truth. She now knows that her husband has forsaken her. She listens dumbly and pathetically to Mrs. Pinkerton’s offer to take the hoy and bears the news with a gentle and touching dignity. When her answer comes it is said quietly : "I will give up my child to him only; let him come and take him. I shall be ready in half an hour." Sharpless and Kate Pinkerton then leave her. When they have gone Butterfly asks Suzuki to go into another room with the child. She then takes her father’s long knife and, throwing a white veil over the folding screen she kisses the blade, noticing as she does so the inscription engraved on it : " He dies in honor who no longer lives in honor." Raising the knife to her throat, she is about to kill herself, when the door opens and her child runs towards her with outstretched arms. She snatches the little one to her bosom and covers him with kisses. She then sends him into the garden. Then, seizing the knife again, she rushes behind the screen, and a little later the sound of the knife falling to the ground is heard.
     Pinkerton returns and calls for Butterfly. She hears him and drags herself from behind the screen to the door, but her strength fails her, and when Pinkerton comes in he finds her lying dead.

MADAME CHRYSANTHÈME

A Romantic Opera in fours acts, with epilogue and prologue, by F. Messager

Text hased on Pierre Loti's tale of the same name

     The lieutenant and his faithful Yves are on board their ship, and the former tells of his intention of contracting a temporary marriage.
     Act I. Pierre meets Madame Chrysanthème for the first time. M. Kangourou, a matrimonial agent, arranges matters and the bridal veil is handed to Chrysanthème.
     Act II. Pierre and his bride are enjoying themselves at Mine. Prune’s sunny cottage, and his comrades arrive with their own feminine charmers and serenade him. All of them, including Mmes. Strawberry, Daffodil and Cowslip, stop for luncheon.
     Act III. There is a festival going on at the house of Lieut. Pierre, and little Chrysanthème is singing her best. But he becomes jealous, thinking she is flirting with Yves and flies into a tremendous rage, which results in a serious quarrel with her.
     Act IV. A peace is patched up between the couple, and their happiness restored, when the boom of guns aboard ship calls the lieutenant to duty. The epilogue is again between the lieutenant and Yves, who both mourn for little Chrysanthème.

MADAME SANS-GENE

Historical Opera in four acts by Umberto Giordano

Text by Renato Simoni, after a play by Victorien Sardou

     The first production of this work, which is really a "musical comedy," so colorful and interesting is the plot, occurred at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, in 1915. The scene is laid partly in Paris and partly in Compiègne, and the action stretches over a period of nineteen years, from August 10, 1792, to September, 1811. The opera is also unique in that it brings the great figure of Napoleon on the stage with an important singing part.
     The first act takes place in the Paris laundry of Catherine Huebseher, the Madame SansGêne of history, a pretty, frank and courageous figure of the Napoleonic era. Although the French revolution is at its height and the royal château, the Tuileries is being stormed by the people, work goes on as usual at the laundry. Catherine enters, followed by an amused crowd, because one of the soldiers in the streets has kissed her against her will. Triumphant shouts are heard outside. The royal residence has just been taken, and both king and queen made prisoners. Catherine gives her laundry girls a holiday to rejoice in the popular victory.
     Fouché, then an officer in the National Guards, but later police minister under Napoleon, is in the place to get his linen. There is conversation about the political outlook, Catherine’s sweetheart, Sergeant Lefèbvre, and a third customer of Catherine’s, the poverty-stricken artillery lieutenant, Napoleon Buonaparte. Outside the noise of the street fighting increases. Catherine, from pity, finally admits a wounded royalist, Count de Neipperg and sends him to her own room in the rear. Her lover, Lefèbvre rushes in precipitately with a squad of soldiers, searching for a royalist fugitive, the very one who is in hiding there. Catherine treats the guests to wine, but the sergeant accidentally discovers the wounded royalist in Catherine’s chamber. His jealousy is roused at first, but he soon convinces himself that there is no reason for it.
     The second act is in Compiègne, in September, 1811, and Catherine, although still as "free and easy" as ever, has become the wife of Lefèbvre, now one of Napoleon’s great generals and created Duke of Danzig. She, however, is too unceremonious for these changed times, and Napoleon has found fault with Lefèbvre for disgracing his court by the many blunders of his wife regarding court etiquette. Lefèbvre and Catherine talk things over and resolve not to separate in any event. Catherine is just taking a belated lesson in dancing and bowing from Despreaux, but dismisses the dancing master for more important. affairs. Fouché, now at the head of the imperial police, comes and advises Catherine and her husband to show more circumspection in dealing with high personages, such as the emperor’s sisters, Queen Caroline and Princess Elisa, who are to be her guests that day. Count Neipperg pays a clandestine visit and asks advice. He says he is in love with Napoleon’s wife, Marie Louise, and has been banished from court on that account by Napoleon. He is told to forget her, but he insists on paying her a farewell call before leaving for good. Meanwhile the guests begin to arrive, and Catherine, delayed by Neipperg, comes late in receiving them. Napoleon’s sisters are especially angry at this supposed slight, and treat their outspoken hostess with much hauteur, but are paid back in kind. The two sisters lay their complaint before the emperor, who summons Catherine to exculpate herself.
      This she does in the third act. Catherine is at first received with rigor by Napoleon. But she tells him precisely how she was provoked by his sisters into paying them in their own coin, and the emperor admits she was justified.
     Then she draws forth from her bosom a soiled and creased bit of paper and presents it to Napoleon. It is an old bill of his for laundry work done by her for him, left unpaid during the days when he was half starving in a Paris garret. He remembers the debt and its circumstances, and recognizes her as the Madame Sans-Gêne of those days. She next tells him of her experience as Lefèbvre’s wife, how she followed him and the army in several campaigns as vivandière, and was even wounded, exhibiting the scar. The emperor kisses the scar and says that Lefèbvre ought to be proud of such a wife, promising that she shall in future find full recognition at his court. But while still talking, they both notice a man secretly approaching the apartments of the empress. It turns out to be Neipperg, he who was banished by Napoleon for suspicious behavior. The intruder is seized and sentenced to be shot at dawn of day, although he is the Austrian ambassador.
     At the beginning of the last act Napoleon is seen pacing his chamber restlessly when Oatherine requests audience with him. She furnishes proof that Neipperg is, after all, only suspected, not convicted, of any serious misconduct, while there is not even a shadow of evidence against the empress herself. She proposes a test of Marie Louise’s own feelings in the matter. Napoleon adopts her stratagem, and the empress proves herself innocent. Neipperg is freed and sent home to Vienna, and Catherine herself earns the emperor’s high praise.

MADELEINE

A Lyric Opera in one act by Victor Herbert

Text by Grant Stewart, being based on a French play

    This was first produced in New York, 1914. The scene is Paris, on New Year’s Day, 1760.
     At her luxurious apartments Madeleine Fleury, the great diva of the Paris opera, remembers suddenly, when a load of costly gifts from her admirers is brought in, that it is New Year’s Day. She enjoys these attentions, but the thought occurs to her where and with whom she can dine that day in a manner satisfactory to herself. One by one her friends decline her invitation. Her lover, the Chevaller de Mauprat, is unable to do so because on that day he must be with his mother at home. The Duke d’Esterre pleads the same excuse, and even her threat, to turn to his rival, Fontanges, does not alter his decision. She carries out this intention and hastily scribbles off a note to Fon-tanges. But that means simply another refusal. Even her own maid, coquettish Nichette, else always so pliant, at the risk of offending her generous mistress, says that she cannot stay that day, because she has previously promised her mother to dine with her.
     Madeleine is in real despair. All her blandishments to obtain the presence of someone to keep her company on the most joyous day of the whole year are wasted, and she feels chagrined and outraged. She throws herself on her divan in a fit of sobbing and disguest, and there her old schoolmate and protégé, the impecunious painter Didier, finds her in a tearful mood. When she tells him the cause he replies that he is sorry, for he, too, must dine on that day with his poor old mother. He invites her, however, as his guest. Madeleine declines, and when Nichette. soon after comes back, saying that her mother has sent her to keep her mistress company; she again declines. Instead the operatic star takes down from the wall a speaking likeness of her own mother, dead some time ago, places it opposite her plate on the dining table, and thus also finds somebody she loves to dine with.

MARITANA

Romantic Opera in three acts by Robert C. Wallace

     This tuneful and interesting work was first seen in London, in 1845, and then on every stage elsewhere, particularly America.
     The scene of the first act is Madrid. Charles, the Spanish King, has fallen desperately in love with a charming young gypsy, who with her band sings in the open squares of the city. The royal minister of state, in order to promote dark plans of his own, heats the king’s fancy still more, dwelling enthusiastically on the girl’s extraordinary beauty and verve. Don Caesar, a Spanish noble and formerly an intimate friend of José, the minister, is seen reeling out of a tavern. In his inebriated condition he espouses the cause of Lazarillo, an unfortunate waif, and this involves him in a duel for which he is arrested and sentenced to death. He is incarcerated. During this time Don José has been exercising his arts on Maritana, the gypsy girl, telling her wonderful tales of wealth and a great marriage, and thus spurring on her ambition.
     In the second act Don Caesar is seen in the dungeon, with his devoted Lazarillo asleep beside him. He is to be executed at seven in the morning, and it is now five. Don José, his false friend, enters and offers his services. Caesar wishes to die a soldier’s death, and wants to escape the gallows. After appearing to hesitate, Don José accedes to this plea, but insists that the condemned must first marry. Don Caesar declines, but is finally persuaded to do as José has urged. Although royal clemency has not yet been vouchsafed and Don Caesar has, therefore, but two more hours to live, the nuptual banquet is prepared, and everything got ready for the wedding ceremony. Then Lazarillo enters, bearing the king’s pardon. He is, however, waylaid by the cunning Don José, and prevented from handing the document to Don Caesar. The bride, Maritana, who is to. be made a wife of convenience, but in reality the mistress of the monarch, enters, and just as the priest pronounces Don Caesar and Maritana duly wedded, soldiers come in for the carrying out of the death penalty on Don Caesar. However, Lazarillo, his humble friend, has by a ruse managed to draw the bullets from the rifles, and when the shots are fired Don Caesar falls apparently lifeless. Don Caesar, after escaping from prison, goes away in a reckless mood to attend a gorgeous ball given by the Marquis de Montefiori. Maritana is there palmed off, under instructions from Don José, as his niece. When Don Caesar demands Maritana as his lawful wife, the minister manages to spirit her away.
     The last act shows Maritana in the royal palace, where she has been taken in ignorance. Don José, in the belief that Don Caesar will at least not dare to present himself in the royal palace, introduces the king, whom he attempts to play off as Maritana’s husband. The girl resents this, while the king in vain flatters and woos her. Caesar at this juncture breaks into the royal closet and demands his wife, the Countess de Bazan, that being the name given Maritana by the Marquis de Montefiori on instructions from Don José. The king retorts: "I am Don Caesar." And Don Caesar tops this by saying "I am the king." Then comes word from the queen that she is waiting for the king. The latter hastens away, leaving for the moment Don Caesar and Maritana together. Explanations follow, and Don Caesar resolves to ask the queen for her intervention. As he is waiting for the appearance of the queen, he hears in the next room Don José telling her that the king is to meet his mistress that evening. At this Don Caesar breaks in, confronts Don José, exposes his treachery, and kills him on the spot. Then he hurries back to Maritana, with whom he finds the king. Don Caesar boldly proclaims what he has just done, and says: “I myself have safeguarded the king’s honor. Will the king in return deprive me of my own honor?" The king sees the point, makes Don Caesar the governor of Valencia, and yields Maritana up to his rival.

THE MIKADO

A Comic Opera in two acts by Arthur. Sullivan

The text is by William S. Gilbert

     First production in London, 1885. The scene is at "Titipu," Japan, and the time is the past.
     The first act happens in a street of Titipu. The Mikado’s son, Nanki-Poo, rather than wed an elderly charmer, by the name of Katisha, has run away from court and leads the merry though impecunious life of a strolling minstrel youth. He has gone from town to town, hearing all sorts of things, when in Titipu he happens to fall in love head over heels with the eharming Yum-Yum. This Yum-Yum is a minor and therefore one of the many wards of Ko-Ko, a high official who has a monopoly on guardianship throughout the empire. YumYum in fact is still a schoolgirl, a naive young creature, who is home during vacation with two of her equally charming friends. Ko-Ko had had an idea of marrying this particular ward himself, not having much else to do just about this time. But Nanki-Poo’s affection is to the full returned by Yum-Yum, and this is the way matters stand when Pooh-Bah drifts in from some other point of the compass, and messes matters up by