Chapter V: Front Matter (5)

In the second act we find Hamlet quite changed. He not only avoids his father and mother, but also shuns Ophelia, who vainly tries to understand his strange behaviour. Determined to find out the truth about Claudius' guilt, Hamlet has paid some actor, to play the old tragedy of Gonzaga's murder. When the actor pours the poison into the sleeping King's mouth Claudius sinks back half fainting, and Hamlet, keenly observant, loudly accuses him of his father's death. But he is unable to act and after the King's escape he seeks his mother's room to ponder on his wrongs. Hidden behind a pillar he overhears from Claudius' own lips that Ophelia's father, old Polonius is the King's accomplice. This destroys the last spark of his belief in humanity. Thrusting the weeping Ophelia from him, he advises her to shut herself into convent and to bid farewell to all earthly joys. Left alone with his mother he wildly reproaches her, and at last so far forgets himself, that he is about to kill her, had not his father's ghost appeared once more, exhorting him to take vengeance but to spare his mother.

This scene is very powerful, the music of strange and weird beauty.--

In the fourth act poor demented Ophelia takes part in the plays of the village-maidens. The Swedish song she sings to them is full of sweet pathos. When her playmates leave her, she hides {116} among the willows, enticed into the water by the "Neck" (Swedish for Sirens), whose own song she has sung. Slowly floating out on the waves her voice dies away softly. With her death the interest in the opera ends; however a fifth act takes us to her grave, where the whole funeral procession arrives. The ghost once more appeals to Hamlet for vengeance, until he rouses himself and runs his sword through Claudius, after which the ghost disappears, while Hamlet is elected King of Denmark on the spot.

The audience in German theatres is spared this last piece of absurdity and the play is brought to a more appropriate close by Hamlet's stabbing himself on his bride's bier.

HANSEL AND GRETEL.

A Fairytale in three pictures by ADELHEID WETTE.

Music by ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK.

After a long period of "Sturm und Drang" we have an opera so fresh and simple, that any child will delight in it! It not only captivates children and people of simple tastes; but, the most blasés must acknowledge its charms. No thrilling drama, but a simple fairytale, known in every nursery has achieved this wonder. It is a revelation. True music finds its way to the hearts, and how wonderfully refreshing are these simple nursery songs, recalling days of sweet childhood, how droll and truly realistic are these children in {117} their natural and naïve sauciness! Here is no display of human passions; simply and clearly the old fairytale goes on, embellished by the masterly way in which the musician handles the modern orchestra.

The first act represents the miserable little hut of a broom-maker. Hansel is occupied in binding brooms, Gretel is knitting and singing old nursery-songs, such as "Susy, dear Susy, what rattles in the straw." Both children are very hungry, and wait impatiently for the arrival of their parents. Hansel is particularly bad-tempered, but the merry and practical Gretel finding some milk in a pot, soon soothes his ruffled feelings by the promise of a nice rice-pap in the evening. Forgetting work and hunger, they begin to dance and frolic, until they roll on the ground together. At this moment their mother enters, and seeing the children idle, her wrath is kindled, and she rushes at them with the intention of giving them a sound whipping. Alas instead of Hansel she strikes the pot and upsets the milk. The mother's vexation cools and only sorrow remains, but she quickly puts a little basket into Gretel's hands, and drives the children away, bidding them look for strawberries in the woods. Then sinking on a chair utterly exhausted, she falls asleep. She is awakened by her husband, who comes in singing and very gay. She sees that he has had a drop too much and is about to reproach him, but the words die on her lips, when she sees him unfold his treasures, consisting of eggs, bread, butter and coffee. He tells her that he has {118} been very fortunate at the church-ale (Kirmes), and bids her prepare supper at once. Alas, the pot is broken, and the mother relates, that finding the children idle, anger got the better of her, and the pot was smashed to pieces. He goodnaturedly laughs at her discomfiture, but his merriment is changed to grief, when he hears that their children are still in the forest, perhaps even near the Ilsenstein, where the wicked fairy lives, who entices children in order to bake and devour them. This thought so alarms the parents that they rush off, to seek the children in the forest.

The second act is laid near the ill-famed Ilsenstein. Hansel has filled his basket with strawberries, and Gretel is winding a garland of red hips, with which Hansel crowns her. He presents her also with a bunch of wild flowers and playfully does homage to this queen of the woods. Gretel enjoying the play, pops one berry after another into her brother's mouth; then they both eat, while listening to the cuckoo. Before they are aware of it, they have eaten the whole contents of the basket and observe with terror, that it has grown too dark, either to look for a fresh supply, or to find their way home. Gretel begins to weep and to call for her parents, but Hansel, rallying his courage, takes her in his arms and soothes her, until they both grow sleepy. The dustman comes, throwing his dust into their eyes, but before their lids close, they say their evening-prayer; then they fall asleep and the fourteen guardian-angels, whose {119} protection they invoked, are seen stepping down the heavenly ladder to guard their sleep.

In the third act the morning dawns. Crystal drops are showered on the children by the angel of the dew, Gretel opens her eyes first and wakes her brother with a song. They are still entranced by the beautiful angel-dream they have had, when suddenly their attention is aroused by the sight of a little house, made entirely of cake and sugar. Approaching it on tiptoe, they begin to break off little bits, but a voice within calls out "Tip tap, tip tap, who raps at my house?" "The wind, the wind, the heavenly child" they answer continuing to eat and to laugh nothing daunted. But the door opens softly and out glides the witch, who quickly throws a rope around Hansel's throat. Urging the children to enter her house, she tells her name, Rosina sweet-tooth. The frightened children try to escape, but the fairy raises her staff and by a magic charm keeps them spellbound. She imprisons Hansel in a small stable with a lattice-door, and gives him almonds and currants to eat, then turning to Gretel, who has stood rooted to the spot, she breaks the charm with a juniper bough, and compels her to enter the house and make herself useful.

Believing Hansel to be asleep, she turns to the oven, and kindles the fire, then breaking into wild glee she seizes a broom and rides on it round the house singing, Gretel all the while observing her keenly. Tired with her exertions the witch awakes {120} Hansel and bids him show his finger, at which command Hansel stretches out a small piece of wood. Seeing him so thin, the witch calls for more food and while she turns her back, Gretel quickly takes up the juniper bough, and speaking the formula, disenchants her brother. Meanwhile the witch turning to the oven, tells Gretel, to creep into it, in order to see, if the honey-cakes are ready, but the little girl, affecting stupidity begs her, to show, how she is to get in. The witch impatiently bends forward and at the same moment Gretel assisted by Hansel, who has escaped from his prison pushes her into the hot oven and slams the iron door.--The wicked witch burns to ashes, while the oven cracks and roars and finally falls to pieces. With astonishment the brother and sister see a long row of children, from whom the honey-crust has fallen off, standing stiff and stark. Gretel tenderly caresses one of them, who opens his eyes and smiles. She now touches them all, and Hansel, seizing the juniper bough works the charm and recalls them to new life. The cake-children thank them warmly, and they all proceed to inspect the treasures of the house, when Hansel hears their parents calling them. Great is the joy of father and mother at finding their beloved-ones safe and in the possession of a sweet little house. The old sorceress is drawn out of the ruins of the oven in form of an immense honey-cake, whereupon they all thank Heaven for having so visibly helped and protected them.

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HANS HEILING.

Romantic Opera in three acts with a prelude, by HEINRICH MARSCHNER.

Text by EDUARD DEVRIENT.

The text to this opera, which was written by the celebrated actor and sent to Marschner anonymously, so struck the composer by its beauty that he adapted music to it, music which ought to be heard much oftener on our stages, on account of its freshness and of its healthy dramatic action, which never flags, but continues to interest and move the hearer with ever-increasing effect till the end is reached.

The contents are as follows:

Hans Heiling, King of the gnomes, has fallen in love with a daughter of the earth; the charming Anna. This maiden, a poor country-girl in the first freshness of youth, has been induced by her mother to consent to a betrothal with the rich stranger, whom she esteems, but nothing more, her heart not yet having been touched by love.

In the prelude we are introduced into the depths of earth, where the gnomes work and toil incessantly carrying glittering stones, gold and silver and accumulating all the treasures, on which men's hearts are set.

Their King announces to them, that he will no longer be one of theirs; he loves, and therefore he resigns his crown. All the passionate entreatings of his mother and of the gnomes are of no avail. {122} At the Queen's bidding he takes with him a magic book, without which he should lose his power over the gnomes, and after giving to her beloved son a set of luminous diamonds mother and son part, Heiling with joy in his heart, the mother in tears and sorrow.

In the first act Heiling arises from the earth, for ever closing the entrance to the gnomes.

Anna greets him joyously and Gertrud, her mother, heartily seconds the welcome. Heiling gives to his bride a golden chain, and Anna adorning herself, thinks with pleasure, how much she will be looked at and envied by her companions. She fain would show herself at once and begs Heiling to visit a public festival with her. But Heiling by nature serious and almost taciturn, refuses her request. Anna pouts, but she soon forgets her grief, when she sees the curious signs of erudition in her lover's room. Looking over the magic book, the leaves begin to turn by themselves, quicker and quicker, the strange signs seem to grow, to threaten her, until stricken with horrible fear Anna cries out, and Heiling, turning to her, sees too late what she has done. Angry at her curiosity, he pushes her away, but she clings to him with fervent entreaties to destroy the dreadful book. His love conquers his reason; and he throws the last link which connects him with his past into the fire. A deep thunder-peal is heard. Anna thanks him heartily, but from this hour the seed of fear and distrust grows in her heart.

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Heiling, seeing her still uneasy, agrees to visit the festival with her upon condition that she refrains from dancing. She gladly promises, but as soon as they come to the festival, Anna is surrounded by the village-lads, who entreat her to dance. They dislike the stranger, who has won the fairest maiden of the village, and Conrad the hunter, who has long loved Anna, is particularly hard on his rival. He mocks him, feeling that Heiling is not what he seems, and tries to lure Anna away from his side. At last Heiling grows angry, forbidding Anna once more to dance. She is wounded by his words and telling him abruptly, that she is not married yet and that she never will be his slave, she leaves him.

In despair Heiling sees her go away with Conrad, dancing and frolicking.

In the second act we find Anna in the forest. She is in a deep reverie; her heart has spoken, but alas, not for her bridegroom, whom she now fears; it only beats for Conrad, who has owned his love to her. Darkness comes on and the gnomes appear with their Queen, who reveals to the frightened girl the origin of her bridegroom and entreats her to give back the son to his poor bereft mother. When the gnomes have disappeared, Conrad overtakes Anna, and she tells him all, asking his help against her mysterious bridegroom. Conrad, seeing that she returns his love, is happy. He has just obtained a good situation and will now be able to wed her.

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He accompanies her home, where Gertrud welcomes them joyously, having feared that Anna had met with an accident in the forest.

While the lovers are together, Heiling enters, bringing the bridal jewels. Mother Gertrud is dazzled, but Anna shrinks from her bridegroom. When he asks for an explanation, she tells him that she knows of his origin. Then all his hopes die within him, but determined that his rival shall not be happy at his cost, he hurls his dagger at Conrad and takes flight.

In the last act Heiling is alone in a ravine in the mountains. He has sacrificed everything and gained nothing. Sadly he decides to return to the gnomes. They appear at his bidding, but they make him feel that he no longer has any power over them, and by way of adding still further to his sorrows they tell him that his rival lives and is about to wed Anna. Then indeed all seems lost to the poor dethroned King. In despair and repentance he casts himself to the earth. But the gnomes, seeing that he really has abandoned all earthly hopes, swear fealty to him once more and return with him to their Queen, by whom he is received with open arms.

Meanwhile Conrad, who only received a slight wound from Heiling's dagger and has speedily recovered, has fixed his wedding-day and we see Anna, the happy bride in the midst of her companions, prepared to go to church with her lover. But when she looks about her, Heiling is at her {125} side, come to take revenge. Conrad would fain aid her, but his sword breaks before it touches Heiling, who invokes the help of his gnomes. They appear, but at the same moment the Queen is seen, exhorting her son to pardon and to forget. He willingly follows her away into his kingdom of night and darkness, never to see earth's surface again. The anxious peasants once more breathe freely and join in common thanks to God.

HENRY THE LION.

Opera in four acts by EDMUND KRETSCHMER.

This opera has not had the same success as "The Folkungs", which may be attributed in part to the subject, which is less attractive. Nevertheless it has great merit, and has found its way to the larger stages of Germany. The libretto is written by Kretschmer himself. The background is in this instance also historical.

The scene which takes us back to the middle of the 12th century is laid, in the first act, in Rome, in the second and fourth in Henry the Lion's castle and in the third act on the coast of Ancona.

In the first act Henry's praise is sung; he has gained the victory for his Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, over the Italians. Frederick enters, thanking the Duke heartily for his fidelity and fortitude. A stranger, named Astoc, comes, prophesying an unhappy end to the Emperor, if he continues to seek his laurels in strange lands. To the anger {126} of everybody Henry seconds him, entreating his Master to return into his own country, where his presence is necessary. The Emperor rebukes him sternly, Henry grows hot, and is finally by order of Frederick fettered and led away.

The second act shows the park in Henry's castle. His lovely wife Clementina, whose veil he wears on his helmet as a talisman, receives the country-people, who come to congratulate her on the first anniversary of her wedding-day. Irmgard, sister-in-law of Duke Henry, sees with envy how much Clementina is loved by everyone; she had herself hoped to become Duchess of Saxony, and from the time when Henry brought home his lovely bride, Irmgard has hated her. Conrad von Wettin, Henry's friend, appears in pilgrim's garb, to announce to the lonely wife the sad news of her husband's captivity and she at once resolves to travel to Ancona in order to entreat the Emperor's pardon.

Irmgard, thinking she sees in the disguised pilgrim, whose gait she recognizes to be that of a knight, a lover of Clementina's, believes that already the day of revenge is dawning.

In the third act the Emperor mourns the loss of his bravest hero, who firmly refuses to retract his rash words. A German song is heard, and Conrad von Wettin presents a young minstrel to the homesick Prince. The former begs for the favor of celebrating the coming festival in a German song. This is permitted and the festival begins. {127} The Anconites, whom Frederick delivered from their captivity, appear, to thank him, then Henry the Lion is conducted to his presence and ordered to ask his forgiveness. But Henry repeats that he did nothing wrong in telling the truth. The Emperor decides to give him an hour for reflection, after which if Henry does not bend his will, he shall be banished.

When this hard sentence is heard, Clementina in minstrel's guise sings her song of the German's fidelity to his Prince and his country, and of his wife's faithfulness, and her highest glory.

The song so touches the Emperor, that he bids her ask a favor. She takes Henry the Lion's sword and buckler, which are lying near, and handing them to the captive, entreats the Emperor to give him his liberty and to pardon him. Her request is granted by Frederick; and Henry, shamed by his Prince's magnanimity, bends his knee, swearing eternal fidelity to him. From Henry the young minstrel only asks a piece of the veil fastened round his helmet, in memory of his deliverance.

The last act carries us back to Henry's castle, where the wife receives her husband full of joy. Clementina asks for the missing piece of veil, and Henry tells her how he gave it away. In the midst of this intercourse horns sound and the Emperor appears with his whole suite. He comes to recompense his hero, who has again won for him honor and glory, with the duchy of Bavaria. Henry presents his consort, as the best and most {128} faithful of wives, when Irmgard steps forth, accusing her sister-in law of faithlessness, and relating that she left the castle with a young knight in pilgrim's attire, and only returned when the news spread, that the Duke would come home victorious. Clementina is too proud, to defend herself and forbids even Conrad von Wettin to speak.

Everybody is convinced of her innocence, but her husband, always rash and violent, turns from her, when she refuses to say nay, and banishing her from his castle, casts his glove before Conrad von Wettin.

Clementina silently goes away, but soon reappears in her minstrel's garb; with the piece of veil in her hand she sings the song, which they heard in Ancona. Now she is at once recognized and the opera ends with a paean of praise to the faithfulness of German wives.

HERRAT.

Grand Opera in three acts by FELIX DRAESEKE.

The first representation of Herrat took place in Dresden on the 10th of March 1892. Its author is long known as one of the first living composers, but his music is so serious, so extremely difficult in its execution, that this is probably the cause, why his operas have been almost unknown hitherto. Like Wagner he did the libretto himself, like him he chose his subject from the old "Heldensaga", but here all likeness ends; there is no relation {129} between Draeseke and Wagner; each goes his own way, each is an original genius.

The Amelungenlied a translation of which has appeared from Simrock, bears great likeness to the Nibelungen; we even find in part the same persons. The subject is a bloody-one; love and heroism are the poles which move it. The music is grand, stern, sometimes sublime, but we look vainly for grace and sweetness. The libretto is rather poor, the rhymes unmelodious and uneven; nevertheless the musical effect is deep and lasting; the breath of a master-genius has brought it to life.

The first scene is laid in Etzel's (Attila's) castle Gran. The King of the Hun's best vassal, Dietrich of Bern has been severely wounded, and sent by his Sire to Gran, that he might be tended by Queen Heike, Etzel's wife. Instead of taking care of the hero, she leaves him to her maid Herlinde, who has nought but water at her disposition, while the Queen nurses her kinsman Dietrich der Reusse, a prisoner of war. The consequence of this is, that Etzel coming home finds his friend sicker than before, while his enemy is well and strong. Full of wrath he orders the Queen to keep Dietrich den Reussen prisoner, without leaving her any guards; should he escape, she is to be beheaded.

After Etzel's departure to the army Dietrich der Reusse escapes notwithstanding the Queen's entreaties.--In her distress Heike turns to the sore wounded Dietrich von Bern, who, though {130} bitterly cursing her ingratitude rises from his sick-bed in order to pursue the fugitive.

In the second act Dietrich of Reuss arrives on foot at Saben's castle in Esthonia. (Saben is a usurper, who has dispossessed King Nentwin and taken possession of his castle and his daughter Herrat.) Dietrich's steed is dead, but hearing his pursuer close upon his heels he takes refuge in an adjacent wood. Herrat standing on a balcony, has recognized him. She sees him vanish with regret, because a prediction told her, that a Dietrich would be her deliverer, but when another hero comes up, she directs him to the wood, to which Dietrich has flown. She hears the combat going on between the two, and soon the pursuer comes back, telling her that his enemy is dead and begging for rest and shelter. When he tells her his name, she starts back, well knowing that Saben, who has slain Dietrich's relatives, will not receive him graciously. She however accompanies him to a room, and determined to protect him against Saben's wiles, she binds up his wounds and nurses him tenderly. Saben entering recognizes the Berner by his celebrated helmet; he leaves the room telling Herrat to look well after such a famous guest. But Herrat's mind misgives her, she tries to rouse the hero, who has sunk into the sleep of exhaustion, and not succeeding, places his arms well within his reach. When she is about to withdraw, she sees Saben return with a band of assassins. Their murmurs rouse Dietrich, who defends himself bravely, {131} slaying one after another. But his strength is failing, when suddenly a disguised youth rushes to his assistance with eight well-armed companions. Saben's men are slain, Saben himself falls a victim to Dietrich's sword. When the youth unmasks Dietrich recognizes in his deliverer Herrat his sweet nurse, whose likeness to his own dead wife Gotlinde has moved him from the first. She offers him her father's kingdom, which he though full of love and gratitude, is loth to accept, as he only claims her heart and hand. But ambition urges him to accept her offer, and so he not only obtains her hand but is proclaimed King of Esthonia.

The third act presents the camp of the Huns, pitched southwards of Gran near the Danube. Etzel has already twice granted respite to the Queen, but as there is no trace of the two Dietrichs, Heike is now to be executed. Old Hildebrand, one of the Berner's followers is particularly inimical to her, because he believes her to be the cause of his beloved master's death.

Suddenly everybody's attention is attracted to a ship approaching the camp. Hildebrand, perceiving on it a hero in disguise, wearing Dietrich's helmet, with Waldemar and Ilias, Etzel's enemies on his side, calls the people to arms. But when the foreign knight disembarks and unmasking shows the face of Dietrich von Bern, everybody is full of joy. He brings the two hostile Kings as prisoners to Etzel and lays the two crowns of Esthonia and of the Wiking country at his feet.

{132} Etzel's brow however remains somber; he sternly asks after Dietrich von Reuss. The Berner unwilling to sing his own praise, is silent, when his wife Herrat steps forth, relating how her hero killed his antagonist in Saben's woods. Now at last Etzel relents; he draws his wife to his breast in forgiveness, and all sing hail to Etzel and Dietrich and to their Queens.

HOCHZEITSMORGEN.

(WEDDING'S MORNING.)

Opera in one act by KARL VON KASKEL.

Text by FRANZ KOPPEL-ELLFELD.

This opera, which was represented for the first time at the Royal Opera in Dresden on April 29th, 1893, is the first attempt of its young composer, and as such shows considerable talent, even genius.

Indeed it sins rather in too much than in too little invention; it would seem that Kaskel's brain, overflowing with musical ideas, wanted to put them all into this one first child of his muse. This promises well for the future, but it explains, why it lacks the great attraction of Cavalleria with which it has some relation, without imitating it in the least. The hearer's attention is tired by too much and divided by lack of unity. Nevertheless the composer has understood how to make the most of a somewhat weak libretto, and the manner in which the musical interest increases from scene to scene is admirable in a beginner.

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The scene is laid in an Italian Frontier Fortress near Mentone at the foot of Col di Tenda. It may be added here, that the national colouring is particularly well hit.

Giovanna, the daughter of Regina Negri an inn-keeper is betrothed to Pietro Montalto, Captain of the Bersaglieri; and the wedding is fixed for the following morning. Before her betrothal Giovanna has carried on a flirtation with Paolo Tosta, a wild fellow, who unfortunately took the girl's play seriously, and seeing the friend of his childhood estranged from him, has turned smuggler and head of a band of Anarchists. Giovanna is afraid of him, and trembles for her bridegroom, whom she loves truly.

However, when she sees Paolo taken captive and sentenced to death by her own lover, she implores the latter to deal mercifully with the miscreant. She has neglected to tell him of her early friendship for the captive, and so Pietro, who does not understand her softness for the ruffian refuses, his soldierly honour being at stake. But at last love conquers and Giovanna extracts a promise from him, to let the prisoner escape during the night.

Left alone, Pietro's keen sense of duty reawakes and he leaves the place without freeing the captive.

However Toto, a dealer in tobacco, Paolo's friend and helpmate in smuggling arrives and releases him. Instead of escaping Paolo seeks Giovanna, and when she turns from him with loathing, he swears, either to possess her, or to destroy her bridegroom.

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On the following morning Pietro hears from Bastiano, the Bersaglieri Sergeant, that the keys of the prison have been stolen, and the prisoner has escaped. Pietro rejoices, that this happened without his own intervention and turns full of happiness to his bride, who stands ready for the wedding. The wedding-procession is slowly moving towards church, when it is suddenly arrested by Paolo, who throws himself between the lovers. "Mine she was, before she knew you," he cries out, "to me she swore eternal faith, which she has now falsely broken." Giovanna, struck dumb by terror, is unable to defend herself.--Pietro orders his men to recapture the ruffian, but quick as thought Paolo has deprived the soldier nearest to him of his sabre and with the words "Thou shalt die first," has thrust it towards Pietro. Alas, it is Giovanna's breast, he pierces; she has shielded her lover with her own body.--With a sweet smile she turns to Pietro, who implores her to speak. "Pardon me," she sighs faintly, "he was long a stranger to my heart; thee alone I loved, to thee I was faithful unto death." With those loving words she sinks back expiring.

LES HUGUENOTS.

Grand Opera in five acts by GIACOMO MEYERBEER.

Text by SCRIBE.

This is the best opera of this fertile composer, and one with which only his "Robert le diable" can compare. The music is not only interesting, but highly {135} dramatic; the "mise en scene", the brilliant orchestration, the ballet, everything is combined to fascinate the hearer. We find such an abundance of musical ideas, that we feel Berlioz but spoke the truth, when he said that it would do for twenty others of its kind.

The scene is laid in France, at the time of the bloody persecutions of the Protestants or Huguenots by the Catholics. The Duke of Medicis has apparently made peace with Admiral Coligny, the greatest and most famous of the Huguenots, and we are introduced into the castle of Count Nevers, where the catholic noblemen receive Raoul de Nangis, a protestant, who has lately been promoted to the rank of captain. During their meal they speak of love and its pleasures, and everybody is called on to give the name of his sweetheart. Raoul begins, by telling them, that once when taking a walk, he surprised a band of students, molesting a lady in a litter. He rescued her and as she graciously thanked him for his gallant service, he thought her more beautiful than any maiden he had ever before seen. His heart burnt with love for her, though he did not know her name. While Raoul drinks with the noblemen, Marcel, his old servant warns him of the danger of doing so.

Marcel is a strict old protestant and sings a ballad of the Huguenots to the young people, a song wild and fanatic. They laugh at his impotent wrath, when a lady is announced to Count Nevers, in whom Raoul recognizes the lady of his dreams.

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Of course he believes her false and bad, while as a matter of fact she only comes to beseech Nevers, her destined bridegroom, to set her free. Nevers does so, though not without pain. When he returns to his companions, he conceals the result of the interview, and presently Urbain, a page, enters with a little note for Raoul de Nangis, in which he is ordered to attend a lady, unknown to him. The others recognize the seal of Queen Margarita of Valois, and finding him so worthy, at once seek to gain his friendship.

In the second act we find Raoul with the beautiful Queen, who is trying to reconcile the Catholics with the Protestants. To this end the Queen has resolved to unite Raoul with Valentine, her lady of honor, and daughter of the Count of St. Bris, a staunch catholic. Valentine tells her heart's secret to her mistress, for to her it was that Raoul brought assistance, and she loves him. The noble Raoul, seeing Margarita's beauty and kindness, vows himself her knight, when suddenly the whole court enters to render her homage. Recognizing her at last to be the Queen, Raoul is all the more willing to fulfil her wishes and offers his hand in reconciliation to the proud St. Bris, promising to wed his daughter. But when he perceives in her the unknown lady, whom he believes to be so unworthy, he takes back his word. All are surprised, and the offended father vows bloody vengeance.

In the third act Marcel brings a challenge to {137} St. Bris, which the latter accepts, but Maurevert, a fanatical catholic nobleman, tells him of other ways in which to annihilate his foe. Valentine though deadly offended with her lover, resolves to save him. Seeing Marcel, she bids him tell his master not to meet his enemy alone. Meanwhile Raoul is already on the spot, and so is St. Bris with four witnesses. While they fight, a quarrel arises between the catholic and the protestant citizens, which is stopped by Queen Margarita. The enemies accuse each other, and when the Queen is in doubt as to whom she shall believe, Valentine appears to bear witness. Then Raoul hears that her interview with Nevers had been but a farewell, sought for but to loosen forever the ties which her father had formed for her against her will; but the knowledge of his error comes too late, for St. Bris has once more promised his daughter to Nevers, who at this moment arrives with many guests, invited for the wedding. The presence of the Queen preserves peace between the different parties, but Raoul leaves the spot with death in his heart.

In the fourth act the dreadful night of St. Bartholomew is already beginning.

We find Valentine in her room despairing. Raoul comes to take a last farewell, but almost immediately St. Bris enters with a party of Catholics and Raoul is obliged to hide in the adjoining room. There he hears the whole conspiracy for the destruction of the Protestants, beginning with their leader, Admiral Coligny. The Catholics all assent {138} to this diabolical plot; Nevers alone refuses to soil his honor, and swears only to fight in open battle. The others, fearing treason, decide to bind and keep him prisoner until the next morning. Raoul prepares to save his brethren or die with them. Vain are Valentine's entreaties; though she confesses to her love for him, he yet leaves her, though with a great effort, to follow the path of duty.

In the last act Raoul rushes pale and bloody into the hall, where Queen Margarita sits with her husband, Henry of Navarre, surrounded by the court; He tells them of the terrific events, which are going on outside, and beseeches their help. It is too late however, Coligny has already fallen, and with him most of the Huguenots.

Raoul meets Valentine once more; she promises to save him, if he will go over to her faith. But Marcel reminds him of his oath, and Valentine, seeing that nothing can move her lover's fortitude and firmness, decides to remain with him. She accepts his creed and so they meet death together, Valentine falling by the side of her deadly wounded lover, both praising God with their last breath.

IDLE HANS.

(DER FAULE HANS.)

Opera in one act by A. RITTER.

Text after a poetic tale by FELIX DAHN.

The composer of this hitherto unknown opera is no young man. He is over sixty, and his well deserved fame reaches him but tardily. Alexander {139} Ritter, a relation and a true friend of Wagner's, was one of the few, who gave his help to the latter when he fled to Switzerland poor and abandoned. Though a warm admirer of Wagner's music, Ritter is not his echo. His music, saturated with the modern spirit is absolutely independant and original. His compositions are not numerous; two operas and a few songs are almost all he did for immortality, but they all wear the stamp of a remarkable talent. "Idle Hans" is a dramatic fairy-tale of poetical conception. Its strength lies in the orchestra, which is wonderfully in tune with the different situations. After having been represented in Weimar ten years ago, the opera fell in oblivion, from which it has now come forth, and was given on the Dresden stage on Nov. 9th 1892. It has met with unanimous approval from all those, who understand fine and spiritual music.

The plot is soon told.

Count Hartung has seven sons, all grown up after his own heart except the youngest, Hans, called the Idle, who prefers basking in the sunshine and dreaming away his life to hunting and fighting. He is a philosopher, and a true type of the German, patient, quiet and phlegmatic, who does not deem it worth his while to move a finger for all the shallow doings of the world in general, and his brothers in particular. The son's idleness so exasperates his father, that he orders him to be chained like a criminal to a huge oaken post standing in the courtyard, forbidding anybody under {140} heavy penalty, to speak to him. His brothers pity him, but they obey their father.

Left alone, Hans sighs after his dead mother, who so well understood him, and who had opened his eyes and heart to an ideal world, with all that is good and noble. Far from loathing his father, he only bewails the hardness of him, for whose love he craves in vain. At last he falls asleep. Seeing this the maid servants come to mock him (by the bye a delightful piece of music is this chatter-chorus). When Hans has driven away the impudent hussies, his brother Ralph the Singer approaches to assure him of his unvarying love.--He is the only-one who believes in Hans' worth, and now tries hard to rouse him into activity, for he has heard, that the Queen is greatly oppressed by her enemies, the Danes. But Hans remains unmoved, telling him quietly to win his laurels without him. In the midst of their colloquy the Herald's voice announces that the battle is lost, and that the Queen is coming to the castle, a fugitive. The old Count descends from his tower to assemble, his sons and his vassals. Hardly are they ready, when the Queen rides up to ask for protection. The gate closes behind her and the old Count does homage, while Hans, still lying idle on his straw, stares at her beauty with new awakened interest. But the enemy is coming nearer; all the Count's well-trained soldiers are defeated, and already Harald, the Danish King peremptorily orders them to surrender. Now Hans {141} awakes. His effort to break his chain excites the Queen's attention, who asks the old Count, for what crime the beautiful youth is punished so severely. The father disowns his son but at this moment the gate gives way and in rushes Harald, who is met by old Hartung. Alas the Count's sword breaks in pieces. With the cry, "Now it is worth while acting" Hans breaks his fetters and brandishing the oaken post to which he was chained, he fells Harald to the ground with one mighty stroke. Konrad the valet fetters the giant, and Hans slays every one, who tries to enter; then rushing out, delivers his brothers and puts the whole army to flight. Then he returns to the Queen who has witnessed his deeds with a heart full of deep admiration and swears allegiance. Heartily thanking him, she only now hears, that the young hero is Hartung's son, and full of gratitude she offers him one half of her kingdom. But Hans the Idler does not care for a crown; it is her own sweet self he wants, and boldly he claims her hand. Persuaded to have found in him a companion for life as true and loyal as ever lived, she grants him her heart and kingdom.

IDOMENEUS.

Opera in three acts by W. A. MOZART.

Text by ABBATE GIANBATTISTA VARESCO.

This opera, which Mozart composed in his twenty-fifth year for the Opera-seria in Munich, was represented in the year 1781, and won brilliant success.

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It is the most remarkable composition of Mozart's youthful age, and though he wrote it under Gluck's influence, there is many a spark of his own original genius, and often he breaks the bonds of conventional form and rises to heights hitherto unanticipated. The public in general does not estimate the opera very highly, in consequence Idomeneus was only represented in Dresden, after the long interval of 21 years, to find the house empty and the applause lukewarm. But the true connoisseur of music ought not to be influenced by public opinion, for though the action does not warm the hearer, the music is at once divinely sweet and harmonious; no wild excitement, no ecstatic feelings, but music pure and simple, filling the soul with sweet content.

The scene takes place in Cydonia, on the isle of Crete soon after the end of the Trojan war.--

In the first act Ilia, daughter of Priam, bewails her unhappy fate, but won by the magnanimity of Idamantes, son of Idomeneus, King of Crete, who relieves the captive Trojans from their fetters, she begins to love him, much against her own will. Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, who also loves Idamantes perceives with fury his predilection for the captive princess and endeavours to regain his heart.

Arbaces, the High-Priest enters, to announce that Idomeneus has perished at sea in a tempest. All bewail this misfortune and hasten to the strand to pray to the gods for safety.

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But Idomeneus is not dead. Poseidon, whose help he invoked in his direst need, has saved him, Idomeneus vowing to sacrifice to the God the first mortal whom he should encounter on landing.--Unfortunately it is his own son, who comes to the strand to mourn for his beloved father.--Idomeneus, having been absent during the siege of Troy for ten years, at first fails to recognize his son. But when the truth dawns on both, the son's joy is as great as the father's misery. Terrified the latter turns from the aggrieved and bewildered Idamantes. Meanwhile the King's escort has also safely landed and all thank Poseidon for their delivery.

In the second act Idomeneus takes counsel with Arbaces, and resolves to send his son away, in order to save him from the impending evil. The King speaks to Ilia, whose love for Idamantes he soon divines. This only adds to his poignant distress.--Electra, hearing that she is to accompany Idamantes to Argos is radiant, hoping that her former lover may then forget Ilia. They take a tender farewell from Idomeneus, but just when they are about to embark, a dreadful tempest arises, and a monster emerges from the waves, filling all present with awe and terror.

In the third act Idamantes seeks Ilia to bid her farewell. Not anticipating the reason of his father's grief, which he takes for hate, he is resolved to die for his country, by either vanquishing the dreadful monster, sent by Poseidon's wrath, or by perishing in the combat.

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Ilia, unable to conceal her love for him any longer, bids him live, live for her. In his new-found happiness Idamantes forgets his grief, and when his father surprises the lovers, he implores him to calm his wrath, and rushes away, firmly resolved to destroy the monster.--

With terrible misgivings Idomeneus sees Arbaces approach, who announces that the people are in open rebellion against him. The King hastens to the temple, where he is received with remonstrances by the High-Priest, who shows him the horrid ravages, which Poseidon's wrath has achieved through the monster; he entreats him to name the victim for the sacrifice and to satisfy the wishes of the God. Rent by remorse and pain Idomeneus finally names his son.

All are horror-stricken, and falling on their knees, they crave Poseidon's pardon.--While they yet kneel, loud songs of triumph are heard, and Idamantes returns victorious from his fight with the monster.

With noble courage he throws himself at his father's feet, imploring his benediction and--his death. For having heard of his father's unhappy vow, he now comprehends his sorrow, and endeavours to lessen his grief.

Idomeneus, torn by conflicting feelings at last is about to grant his son's wish, but when he lifts his sword, Ilia throws herself between, imploring him to let her be the victim. A touching scene ensues between the lovers, but Ilia gains her point. {145} Just when she is about to receive her death-stroke, Poseidon's pity is at last aroused. In thunder and lightning he decrees, that Idomeneus is to renounce his throne in favor of Idamantes, for whose spouse he chooses Ilia.

In a concluding scene we see Electra tormented by the furies of hate and jealousy. Idomeneus fulfils Poseidon's request, and all invoke the God's benediction on the happy Royal house of Crete.

JEAN DE PARIS.

Comic Opera in three acts by ADRIEN BOIELDIEU.

Text by St. JUST.

After a lapse of many years this spirited little opera has again been put upon the stage and its success has shown, that true music never grows old.

Next to the "Dame blanche" Jean de Paris is decidedly the best of Boieldieu's works; the music is very graceful, fresh and lively, and the plot, though simple and harmless is full of chivalric honor and very winning.

The scene takes us back to the 17th century and we find ourselves in an inn of the Pyrenees.

The young and beautiful Princess of Navarre being widowed and her year of mourning having passed, is induced by her brother, the King of Navarre, to marry again. The French Crown-Prince has been selected by the two courts as her future husband, but both parties are of a somewhat romantic turn of mind and desire to know each other, before being united for life.

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For this purpose the Prince undertakes a journey to the Pyrenees, where he knows the Princess to be.

In the first scene we see preparations being made for the reception of the Princess, whose arrival has been announced by her Seneshal. In the midst of the bustle there enters a simple Page to demand rooms for his master. As he is on foot the host treats him spitefully, but his daughter Lorezza, pleased with his good looks, promises him a good dinner. While they are still debating, the numerous suite of the Prince comes up and without further ado takes possession of the house and stables, which have been prepared for the Princess and her people. The host begins to feel more favorably inclined towards the strange Seigneur, though he does not understand, how a simple citizen of Paris (this is the Prince's incognito), can afford such luxury.

By the time "Monsieur Jean de Paris" arrives the host's demeanour has entirely changed and seeing two large purses with gold, he abandons the whole house to the strange guest, hoping that he shall have prosecuted his journey before the arrival of the Princess. But he has been mistaken, for no sooner are Jean de Paris' people quartered in the house, than the Seneshal, a pompous Spanish Grandee arrives, to announce the coming of the Princess. The host is hopelessly embarrassed and the Seneshal rages at the impudence of the citizen, but Jean de Paris quietly intimates, that the house {147} and everything in it are hired by him, and courteously declares, that he will play the host and invite the Princess to his house and dinner.

While the Seneshal is still stupefied by such unheard-of impudence, the Princess arrives, and at once takes everybody captive by her grace and loveliness. Jean de Paris is fascinated and the Princess who instantly recognizes in him her future bridegroom, is equally pleased by his appearance, but resolves to profit and to amuse herself by her discovery.

To the Seneshal's unbounded surprise she graciously accepts Jean's invitation.

In the second act the preparations for the dinner of the honored guests have been made. Olivier the Page shows pretty Lorezza the minuets of the ladies at court, and she dances in her simple country-fashion, until Olivier seizes her and they dance and sing together.

Jean de Paris stepping in, sings an air in praise of God, beauty and chivalry and when the Princess appears, he leads her to dinner, to the unutterable horror of the Seneshal. Dinner, service, plate, silver, all is splendid and all belongs to Jean de Paris, who sings a tender minstrel's-song to the Princess; she sweetly answers him, and telling him, that she has already chosen her knight, who is true, honest and of her own rank, makes him stand on thorns for a while, lest he be too late,--until he perceives that she only teazes in order to punish him for his own comedy. Finally they are {148} enchanted with each other, and when the people come up, the Prince, revealing his true name, presents the Princess as his bride, bidding his suite render homage to their mistress. The Seneshal humbly asks forgiveness, and all unite in a chorus in praise of the beautiful pair.

JESSONDA.

Opera in three acts by LOUIS SPOHR.

Text by HENRY GEHE.

Spohr wrote this opera by way of inauguration to his charge as master of the court-chapel at Cassel, and with it he added to the fame, which he had long before established as master of the violin and first-rate composer. His music is sublime, and sheds a wealth of glory on the somewhat imperfect text.

The story introduces us to Goa on the coast of Malabar at the beginning of the 16th century.

A Rajah has just died and is bewailed by his people, and Jessonda, his widow, who was married to the old man against her will, is doomed to be burnt with him, according to the country's laws. Nadori, a young priest of the God Brahma is to announce her fate to the beautiful young widow. But Nadori is not a Brahmin by his own choice; he is young and passionate, and though it is forbidden to him to look at women, he at once falls in love with Jessonda's sister Amazili, whom he meets when on his sad errand. He promises to help her in saving her beloved sister from a terrible death.

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Jessonda meanwhile hopes vainly for the arrival of the Portuguese General, Tristan d'Acunha, to whom she pledged her faith long ago, when a cruel fate separated her from him. She knows that the Portuguese are at this moment besieging Goa, which formerly belonged to them. Jessonda is accompanied by her women through the Portuguese camp, to wash away in the floods of the Ganges the last traces of earthliness. She sacrifices a rose to her early love.

Turning back into the town, she is recognized by Tristan, but alas, a truce forbids him to make an assault on the town in order to deliver his bride. Jessonda is led back in triumph by the High-priest Daudon, to die an untimely death.

In the third act Nadori visits Tristan in secret, to bring the welcome news that Daudon himself broke the truce, by sending two spies into the enemy's camp to burn their ships. This act of treachery frees Tristan from his oath. Nadori conducts him and his soldiers through subterranean passages into the temple, where he arrives just in time to save Jessonda from the High-priest's sword. She gives him hand and heart, and Nadori is united to her sister Amazili.

INGRID.

Opera in two acts by KARL GRAMANN.

Text by T. KERSTEN.

Ingrid is a musical composition of considerable interest, the local tone and colouring being so well {150} hit. It is a Norwegian picture with many pretty and original customs, to which the music is well adapted and effective, without being heart-stirring.

The scene is laid in Varö in Norway. Helga the rich Norwegian peasant Wandrup's daughter is to wed Godila Swestorp, her cousin, and the most desirable young man in the village. She entertains but friendly feelings for him while her heart belongs to a young German traveller, and Godila, feeling that she is different from what she was, keeps jealous watch over her, and swears to destroy his rival.

In the second scene Ingrid, a young girl (coach-maid), whose business it is to direct the carioles from station to station, drives up with the German Erhard, who meeting with a severe accident in the mountains, is saved by her courage. Full of tenderness she dresses his wounds; he thanks her warmly, and presents her with a miniature portrait of his mother. She mistakes her gratitude for love, and it fills her with happiness, which is instantly destroyed, when Helga appears and sinks on the breast of her lover. Ingrid, a poor orphan, who never knew father or mother, is deeply disappointed and bitterly reproaches heaven for her hard fate. The scene is witnessed by old father Wandrup, in whose heart it arouses long buried memories and he tries to console Ingrid. But when she claims the right to hear more of her parents he only says, that she was found a babe at his threshold {151} twenty-five years ago, and that nothing was ever heard of her father and mother.