Chapter I: Puritani (1)

"I Puritani di Scozia," an opera in two acts, words by Count Pepoli, was first produced at the Theatre Italien, Paris, Jan. 25, 1835, and in London in the following May, under the title of "I Puritani ed i Cavalieri." The original cast was as follows:--

ELVIRA Mme. GRISI.
ARTURO Sig. RUBINI.
RICARDO Sig. TAMBURINI.
GIORGIO Sig. LABLACHE.

This cast was one of unexampled strength, and was long known in Europe as the Puritani quartet. The story of the opera is laid in England, during the war between Charles II. and his Parliament, and the first scene opens in Plymouth, then held by the parliamentary forces. The fortress is commanded by Lord Walton, whose daughter, Elvira, is in love with Lord Arthur Talbot, a young cavalier in the King's service. Her hand had previously been promised to Sir Richard Forth, of the parliamentary army; but to the great delight of the maiden, Sir George Walton, brother of the commander, brings her the news that her father has relented, and that Arthur will be admitted into the fortress that the nuptials may be celebrated. Henrietta, widow of Charles I., is at this time a prisoner in the fortress, under sentence of death passed by Parliament. Arthur discovers her situation, and by concealing her in Elvira's bridal veil seeks to effect her escape. On their way out he encounters his rival; but the latter, discovering that the veiled lady is not Elvira, allows them to pass. The escape is soon discovered, and Elvira, thinking her lover has abandoned her, loses her reason. Arthur is proscribed by the Parliament and sentenced to death; but Sir Richard, moved by the appeals of Sir George Walton, who hopes to restore his niece to reason, promises to use his influence with Parliament to save Arthur's life should he be captured unarmed. Arthur meanwhile manages to have an interview with Elvira; and the latter, though still suffering from her mental malady, listens joyfully to his explanation of his sudden flight. Their interview is disturbed by a party of Puritans who enter and arrest him. He is condemned to die on the spot; but before the sentence can be carried out, a messenger appears with news of the king's defeat and the pardon of Arthur. The joyful tidings restore Elvira to reason, and the lovers are united.

The libretto of "I Puritani" is one of the poorest ever furnished to Bellini, but the music is some of his best. It is replete with melodies, which are not only fascinating in their original setting, but have long been favorites on the concert-stage. The opera is usually performed in three acts, but was written in two. The prominent numbers of the first act are the pathetic cavatina for Ricardo, "Ah! per sempre io ti perdei," in which he mourns the loss of Elvira; a lovely romanza for tenor ("A te o cara"); a brilliant polacca ("Son vergin vezzosa") for Elvira, which is one of the delights of all artists; and a concerted finale, brimming over with melody and closing with the stirring anathema chorus, "Non casa, non spiaggia." The first grand number in the second act is Elvira's mad song, "Qui la voce," in which are brought out not only that rare gift for expressing pathos in melody for which Bellini is so famous, but the sweetest of themes and most graceful of embellishments. The remaining numbers are Elvira's appeal to her lover ("Vien, diletto"), the magnificent duet for basses ("Suoni la tromba"), known as the "Liberty Duet," which in sonorousness, majesty, and dramatic intensity hardly has an equal in the whole range of Italian opera; a tender and plaintive romanza for tenor ("A una fonte aflitto e solo"); a passionate duet for Arthur and Elvira ("Star teco ognor"); and an adagio, sung by Arthur in the finale ("Ella e tremante").

BIZET.

Georges Bizet was born at Paris, Oct. 25, 1838, and in an artistic atmosphere, as his father, an excellent teacher, was married to a sister of Mme. Delsarte, a talented pianist, and his uncle, a musician, was the founder of the famous Delsarte system. He studied successively with Marmontel and Benoist, and subsequently took lessons in composition from Halevy, whose daughter he afterwards married. His first work was an operetta of not much consequence, "Docteur Miracle," written in 1857, and in the same year he took the Grand Prix de Rome. On his return from Italy he composed "Vasco de Gama" and "Les Pecheurs de Perles," neither of which met with much success. In 1867 "La Jolie Fille de Perth" appeared, and in 1872, "Djamileh." During the intervals of these larger works he wrote the Patrie overture and the interludes to "L'Arlesienne," a very poetical score which Theodore Thomas introduced to this country, and both works were received with enthusiasm. At last he was to appreciate and enjoy a real dramatic success, though it was his last work. "Carmen" appeared in 1875, and achieved a magnificent success at the Opera Comique. It was brought out in March, and in the following June he died of acute heart-disease. He was a very promising composer, and specially excelled in orchestration. During his last few years he was a close student of Wagner, whose influence is apparent in this last work of his life.

CARMEN.

"Carmen," an opera in four acts, words by Meilhac and Halevy, adapted from Prosper Merimee's romance of "Carmen," was first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, March 3, 1875, with Mme. Galli-Marie in the title-role and Mlle. Chapuy as Michaela. The scene is laid in Seville, time 1820. The first act opens in the public square, filled with a troop of soldiers under command of Don Jose, and loungers who are waiting the approach of the pretty girls who work in the cigar-factory near by, and prettiest and most heartless of them all, Carmen. Before they appear, Michaela, a village girl, enters the square, bearing a message to Don Jose from his mother, but not finding him departs. The cigar-girls at last pass by on their way to work, and with them Carmen, who observes Don Jose sitting in an indifferent manner and throws him the rose she wears in her bosom. As they disappear, Michaela returns and delivers her message. The sight of the gentle girl and the thought of home dispel Don Jose's sudden passion for Carmen. He is about to throw away her rose, when a sudden disturbance is heard in the factory. It is found that Carmen has quarrelled with one of the girls and wounded her. She is arrested, and to prevent further mischief her arms are pinioned. She so bewitches the lieutenant, however, that he connives at her escape and succeeds in effecting it, while she is led away to prison by the soldiers. In the second act Carmen has returned to her wandering gypsy life, and we find her with her companions in the cabaret of Lillas-Pastia, singing and dancing. Among the new arrivals is Escamillo, the victorious bull-fighter of Grenada, with whom Carmen is at once fascinated. When the inn is closed, Escamillo and the soldiers depart, but Carmen waits with two of the gypsies, who are smugglers, for the arrival of Don Jose. They persuade her to induce him to join their band, and when the lieutenant, wild with passion for her, enters the apartment, she prevails upon him to remain in spite of the trumpet-call which summons him to duty. An officer appears and orders him out. He refuses to go, and when the officer attempts to use force Carmen summons the gypsies. He is soon overpowered, and Don Jose escapes to the mountains. The third act opens in the haunt of the smugglers, a wild, rocky, cavernous place. Don Jose and Carmen, who is growing very indifferent to him, are there. As the contrabandists finish their work and gradually leave the scene, Escamillo, who has been following Carmen, appears. His presence and his declarations as well arouse the jealousy of Don Jose. They rush at each other for mortal combat, but the smugglers separate them. Escamillo bides his time, invites them to the approaching bullfight at Seville, and departs. While Don Jose is upbraiding Carmen, the faithful Michaela, who has been guided to the spot, begs him to accompany her, as his mother is dying. Duty prevails, and he follows her as Escamillo's taunting song is heard dying away in the distance. In the last act the drama hurries on to the tragic denouement. It is a gala-day in Seville, for Escamillo is to fight. Carmen is there in his company, though her gypsy friends have warned her Don Jose is searching for her. Amid great pomp Escamillo enters the arena, and Carmen is about to follow, when Don Jose appears and stops her. He appeals to her and tries to awaken the old love. She will not listen, and at last in a fit of wild rage hurls the ring he had given her at his feet. The shouts of the people in the arena announce another victory for Escamillo. She cries out with joy. Don Jose springs at her like a tiger, and stabs her just as Escamillo emerges from the contest.

Carmen is the largest and best-considered of all Bizet's works, and one of the best in the modern French repertory. The overture is short but very brilliant. After some characteristic choruses by the street lads, soldiers, and cigar-girls, Carmen sings the Havanaise ("Amor, misterioso angelo"), a quaint song in waltz time, the melody being that of an old Spanish song by Tradier, called "El Aveglito." A serious duet between Michaela and Don Jose ("Mia madre io la rivedo") follows, which is very tender in its character. The next striking number is the dance tempo, "Presso il bastion de Seviglia," a seguidilla sung by Carmen while bewitching Don Jose. In the finale, as she escapes, the Havanaise, which is the Carmen motive, is heard again.

The second-act music is peculiarly Spanish in color, particularly that for the ballet. The opening song of the gypsies in the cabaret, to the accompaniment of the castanets ("Vezzi e anella scintillar"), is bewitching in its rhythm, and is followed in the next scene by a stirring and very picturesque aria ("Toreador attento"), in which Escamillo describes the bull-fight. A beautifully written quintet ("Abbiamo in vista"), and a strongly dramatic duet, beginning with another fascinating dance tempo ("Voglio danzar pel tuo piacer"), and including a beautiful pathetic melody for Don Jose ("Il fior che avevi"), closes the music of the act.

The third act contains two very striking numbers, the terzetto of the card-players in the smugglers' haunt ("Mischiam! alziam!"), and Michaela's aria ("Io dico no, non son paurosa"), the most effective and beautiful number in the whole work, and the one which shows most clearly the effect of Wagner's influence upon the composer. In the finale of the act the Toreador's song is again heard as he disappears in the distance after the quarrel with Don Jose.

The last act is a hurly-burly of the bull-fight, the Toreador's taking march, the stormy duet between Don Jose and Carmen, and the tragic denouement in which the Carmen motive is repeated. The color of the whole work is Spanish, and the dance tempo is freely used and beautifully worked up with Bizet's ingenious and scholarly instrumentation. Except in the third act, however, the vocal parts are inferior to the orchestral treatment.

BOIELDIEU.

Francois Adrien Boieldieu was born Dec. 16, 1775, at Rouen, France. Little is known of his earlier life, except that he studied for a time with Broche, the cathedral organist. His first opera, "La Fille Coupable," appeared in 1793, and was performed at Rouen with some success. In 1795 a second opera, "Rosalie et Myrza," was performed in the same city; after which he went to Paris, where he became acquainted with many prominent musicians, among them Cherubini. His first Paris opera was the "Famille Suisse" (1797), which had a successful run. Several other operas followed, besides some excellent pieces of chamber music which secured him the professorship of the piano in the Conservatory. He also took lessons at this time of Cherubini in counterpoint, and in 1803 brought out a very successful work, "Ma Tante Aurore." We next hear of him in St. Petersburg, as conductor of the Imperial Opera, where he composed many operas and vaudevilles. He spent eight years in Russia, returning to Paris in 1811. The next year one of his best operas, "Jean de Paris," was produced with extraordinary success. Though he subsequently wrote many operas, fourteen years elapsed before his next great work, "La Dame Blanche," appeared. Its success was unprecedented. All Europe was delighted with it, and it is as fresh to-day as when it was first produced. The remainder of Boieldieu's life was sad, owing to operatic failures, pecuniary troubles, and declining health. He died at Jarcy, near Paris, Oct. 8, 1834.

LA DAME BLANCE.

"La Dame Blanche," opera comique in three acts, words by Scribe, adapted from Walter Scott's novels, "The Monastery" and "Guy Mannering," was first produced at the Opera Comique, Dec. 10, 1825, and was first performed in English under the title of "The White Maid," at Covent Garden, London, Jan. 2, 1827. The scene of the opera is laid in Scotland. The Laird of Avenel, a zealous partisan of the Stuarts, was proscribed after the battle of Culloden, and upon the eve of going into exile intrusts Gaveston, his steward, with the care of the castle, and of a considerable treasure which is concealed in a statue called the White Lady. The traditions affirmed that this lady was the protectress of the Avenels. All the clan were believers in the story, and the villagers declared they had often seen her in the neighborhood. Gaveston, however, does not share their superstition nor believe in the legend, and some time after the departure of the Laird he announces the sale of the castle, hoping to obtain it at a low rate because the villagers will not dare to bid for it through fear of the White Lady. The steward is led to do this because he has heard the Laird is dead, and knows there is no heir to the property. Anna, an orphan girl, who had been befriended by the Laird, determines to frustrate Gaveston's designs, and appears in the village disguised as the White Lady. She also writes to Dickson, a farmer, who is indebted to her, to meet her at midnight in the castle of Avenel. He is too superstitious to go, and George Brown, a young lieutenant who is sharing his hospitality, volunteers in his stead. He encounters the White Lady, and learns from her he will shortly meet a young lady who has saved his life by her careful nursing after a battle,--Anna meanwhile recognizing George as the person she had saved. When the day of sale comes, Dickson is empowered by the farmers to purchase the castle, so that it may not fall into Gaveston's hands. George and Anna are there; and the former, though he has not a shilling, buys it under instructions from Anna. When the time comes for payment, Anna produces the treasure which had been concealed in the statue, and, still in the disguise of the White Lady, discovers to him the secret of his birth during the exile of his parents. Gaveston approaches the spectre and tears off her veil, revealing Anna, his ward. Moved by the zeal and fidelity of his father's protegee, George offers her his hand, which, after some maidenly scruples, she accepts.

The opera is full of beautiful songs, many of them Scotch in character. In the first act the opening song of George ("Ah, what Pleasure a Soldier to be!") is very poetical in its sentiment. It also contains the characteristic ballad of the White Lady, with choral responses ("Where yon Trees your Eye discovers"), and an exquisitely graceful trio in the finale ("Heavens! what do I hear?"). The second act opens with a very plaintive romanza ("Poor Margaret, spin away!"), sung by Margaret, Anna's old nurse, at her spinning-wheel, as she thinks of the absent Laird, followed in the fifth scene by a beautiful cavatina for tenor ("Come, O Gentle Lady"). In the seventh scene is a charming duet ("From these Halls"), and the act closes with an ensemble for seven voices and chorus, which has hardly been excelled in ingenuity of treatment. The third act opens with a charmingly sentimental aria for Anna ("With what delight I behold"), followed in the third scene by a stirring chorus of mountaineers, leading up to "the lay ever sung by the Clan of Avenel,"--the familiar old ballad, "Robin Adair," which loses a little of its local color under French treatment, but gains an added grace. It is stated on good authority that two of Boieldieu's pupils, Adolph Adam and Labarre, assisted him in the work, and that the lovely overture was written in one evening,--Boieldieu taking the andante and the two others the remaining movements. Though a little old-fashioned in some of its phrasing, the opera still retains its freshness and beautiful sentiment. Its popularity is best evinced by the fact that up to June, 1875, it had been given 1340 times at the theatre where it was first produced.

BOITO.

Arrigo Boito was born in 1840, and received his musical education in the Conservatory at Milan, where he studied for nine years. In 1866 he became a musical critic for several Italian papers, and about the same time wrote several poems of more than ordinary merit. Both in literature and music his taste was diversified; and he combined the two talents in a remarkable degree in his opera of "Mephistopheles," the only work by which he is known to the musical world at large. He studied Goethe profoundly; and the notes which he has appended to the score show a most intimate knowledge of the Faust legend. His text is in one sense polyglot, as he has made use of portions of Marlowe's "Doctor Faustus," as well as excerpts from Blaze de Bury, Lenau, Widmann, and others who have treated the legend. He studied Wagner's music also very closely, and to such purpose that after the first performance of this opera at La Scala, in 1868, the critics called him the Italian Wagner, and, in common with the public, condemned both him and his work. After Wagner's "Lohengrin" had been produced in Italy and met with success, Boito saw his opportunity to once more bring out his work. It was performed at Bologna in 1875, and met with an enthusiastic success. Its introduction to this country is largely due to Mme. Christine Nilsson, though Mme. Marie Roze was the first artist to appear in it here.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

"Mephistopheles," grand opera in a prologue, four acts, and epilogue, words by the composer, was first performed at La Scala, Milan, in 1868. The "Prologue in the Heavens" contains five numbers, a prelude, and chorus of the mystic choir; instrumental scherzo, preluding the appearance of Mephistopheles; dramatic interlude, in which he engages to entrap Faust; a vocal scherzo by the chorus of cherubim; and the Final Psalmody by the penitents on earth and chorus of spirits. The prologue corresponds to Goethe's prologue in the heavens, the heavenly choirs being heard in the background of clouds, accompanied by weird trumpet-peals and flourishes in the orchestra, and closes with a finale of magnificent power.

The first act opens in the city of Frankfort, amid the noise of the crowd and the clanging of holiday bells. Groups of students, burghers, huntsmen, and peasants sing snatches of chorus. A cavalcade escorting the Elector passes. Faust and Wagner enter, and retire as the peasants begin to sing and dance a merry waltz rhythm ("Juhe! Juhe!"). As it dies away they reappear, Faust being continually followed by a gray friar,--Mephistopheles in disguise,--whose identity is disclosed by a motive from the prologue. Faust shudders at his presence, but Wagner laughs away his fears, and the scene then suddenly changes to Faust's laboratory, whither he has been followed by the gray friar, who conceals himself in an alcove. Faust sings a beautiful aria ("Dai campi, dai prati"), and then, placing the Bible on a lectern, begins to read. The sight of the book brings Mephistopheles out with a shriek; and, questioned by Faust, he reveals his true self in a massive and sonorous aria ("Son lo spirito"). He throws off his disguise, and appears in the garb of a knight, offering to serve Faust on earth if he will serve the powers of darkness in hell. The compact is made, as in the first act of Gounod's "Faust;" and the curtain falls as Faust is about to be whisked away in Mephistopheles's cloak.

The second act opens in the garden, with Faust (under the name of Henry), Marguerite, Mephistopheles, and Martha, Marguerite's mother, strolling in couples. The music, which is of a very sensuous character, is descriptive of the love-making between Faust and Marguerite, and the sarcastic passion of Mephistopheles for Martha. It is mostly in duet form, and closes with a quartet allegretto ("Addio, fuggo"), which is very characteristic. The scene then suddenly changes to the celebration of the Witches' Sabbath on the summits of the Brocken, where, amid wild witch choruses, mighty dissonances, and weird incantation music, Faust is shown a vision of the sorrow of Marguerite. It would be impossible to select special numbers from this closely interwoven music, excepting perhaps the song ("Ecco il mondo") which Mephistopheles sings when the witches, after their incantation, present him with a globe of glass which he likens to the earth.

The third act opens in a prison, where Marguerite is awaiting the penalty for murdering her babe. The action is very similar to that of the last act of Gounod's "Faust." Her opening aria ("L' altra notte a fondo al maro") is full of sad longings for the child and insane moanings for mercy. Faust appeals to her to fly with him, and they join in a duet of extraordinary sensuous beauty blended with pathos ("lontano, lontano"). Mephistopheles urges Faust away as the day dawns, and pronounces her doom as she falls and dies, while the angelic chorus resounding in the orchestra announces her salvation.

In the fourth act a most abrupt change is made, both in a dramatic and musical sense. The scene changes to the "Night of the Classical Sabbath" on the banks of the Peneus, amid temples, statues, flowers, and all the loveliness of nature in Greece. The music also changes into the pure, sensuous Italian style. Faust, still with Mephistopheles, pays court to Helen of Troy, who is accompanied by Pantalis. The opening duet for the latter ("La luna immobile") is one of exceeding grace and loveliness, and will always be the most popular number in the work. With the exception of a powerfully dramatic scena, in which Helen describes the horrors of the destruction of Troy, the music is devoted to the love-making between Helen and Faust, and bears no relation in form to the rest of the music of the work, being essentially Italian in its smooth, flowing, melodious character. At the close of the classical Sabbath another abrupt change is made, to the death-scene of Faust, contained in an epilogue. It opens in his laboratory, where he is reflecting upon the events of his unsatisfactory life, and contemplating a happier existence in heaven. Mephistopheles is still by his side as the tempter, offers him his cloak, and urges him to fly again. The heavenly trumpets which rang through the prologue are again heard, and the celestial choirs are singing. Enraged, Mephistopheles summons the sirens, who lure Faust with all their charms. Faust seizes the Sacred Volume, and declares that he relies upon its word for salvation. He prays for help against the demon. His prayer is answered; and as he dies a shower of roses falls upon his body. The tempter disappears, and the finale of the prologue, repeated, announces Faust has died in salvation. The opera as a whole is episodical in its dramatic construction, and the music is a mixture of two styles,--the Wagnerian and the conventional Italian; but its orchestration is very bold and independent in character, and the voice-parts are very striking in their adaptation to the dramatic requirements.

DELIBES.

Leo Delibes, the French composer, was born at St. Germain du Val in 1836, and was graduated at the Paris Conservatory, where he reached high distinction. His first work, written in 1855, was an operetta entitled "Deux Sous de Carbon;" but he did not make his mark until his "Maitre Griffard" was produced at the Theatre Lyrique in 1857. In 1865 he was appointed Chorus-master at the Opera, and there his real career began. His first great triumph was in ballet-music, which has ever since been his specialty. His first ballet, "La Source," was produced at the Opera, Nov. 12, 1865, and delighted all Paris. It was followed by a divertisement for the revival of Adam's "Corsaire" (1867), the ballet "Coppelia" (1870), a three-act opera "Le Roi l'a dit" (1873), and the exquisite ballet in three acts and five tableaux, "Sylvia" (1876), with which Theodore Thomas has made American audiences familiar. His opera "Lakme" was written in 1879.

LAKME.

The romantic opera, "Lakme," written in 1879, was first performed in this country by the American Opera Company in 1886, Mme. L'Allemand taking the title-role. The principal characters are Lakme, daughter of Nilakantha, an Indian priest, Gerald and Frederick, officers of the British Army, Ellen and Rose, daughters of the Viceroy, and Mrs. Benson, governess. The scene is laid in India. Nilakantha cherishes a fond hatred of all foreigners. The two English officers, Gerald and Frederick, accompanied by a bevy of ladies, intrude upon his sacred grounds. They stroll about and gradually retire, but Gerald remains to sketch some jewels, which Lakme has left upon a shrine while she goes flower-gathering with her slave Mallika, evidently also to await developments when she returns. Lakme soon comes sailing in on her boat, and there is a desperate case of love at first sight. Their demonstrations of affection are soon interrupted by the appearance of the priest, whose anger Gerald escapes by fleeing, under cover of a convenient thunder-storm. In the next act Lakme and her father appear in the public market-place, disguised as penitents. He compels his daughter to sing, hoping that her face and voice will induce her lover to disclose himself. The ruse proves successful. Nilakantha waits his opportunity, and stealing upon his enemy stabs him in the back and makes good his escape. In the third act we find Gerald in a delightful jungle, where Lakme has in some manner managed to conceal him, and where she is carefully nursing him with the hope of permanently retaining his love. She saves his life; but just at this juncture, and while she is absent to obtain a draught of the water which, according to the Indian legend, will make earthly love eternal, Gerald hears the music of his regiment, and Frederick appears and urges him back to duty. His allegiance to his queen, and possibly the remembrance of his engagement to a young English girl, prove stronger than his love for Lakme. The latter returns, discovers his faithlessness, gathers some poisonous flowers, whose juices she drinks, and dies in Gerald's arms just as the furious father appears. As one victim is sufficient to appease the anger of Nilakantha's gods, Gerald is allowed to go unharmed.

The first act opens with a chorus of Hindoos, oriental in its character, followed by a duet between Lakme and her father; the scene closing with a sacred chant. The Hindoos gone, there is a charming oriental duet ("'Neath yon Dome where Jasmines with the Roses are blooming") between Lakme and her slave, which is one of the gems of the opera. The English then appear and have a long, talky scene, relieved by a pretty song for Frederick ("I would not give a Judgment so absurd"), and another for Gerald ("Cheating Fancy coming to mislead me"). As Lakme enters, Gerald conceals himself. She lays her flowers at the base of the shrine and sings a restless love-song ("Why love I thus to stray?"). Gerald discovers himself, and after a colloquy sings his ardent love-song ("The God of Truth so glowing"), and the act closes with Nilakantha's threats.

The second act opens in the market square, lively with the choruses of Hindoos, Chinamen, fruit-venders, and sailors, and later on with the adventures of the English party in the crowd. Nilakantha appears and addresses his daughter in a very pathetic aria ("Lakme, thy soft Looks are over-clouded"). Soon follows Lakme's bell-song ("Where strays the Hindoo Maiden?"), a brilliant and highly embellished aria with tinkling accompaniment, which will always be a favorite. The recognition follows; and the remaining numbers of importance are an impassioned song by Gerald ("Ah! then 't is slumbering Love"), with a mysterious response by Lakme ("In the Forest near at Hand"). A ballet, followed by the stabbing of Gerald, closes the act.

In the third act the action hastens to the tragic denouement. It opens with a beautiful crooning song by Lakme ("'Neath the Dome of Moon and Star") as she watches her sleeping lover. The remaining numbers of interest are Gerald's song ("Tho' speechless I, my Heart remembers"), followed by a pretty three-part chorus in the distance and Lakme's dying measures, "To me the fairest Dream thou 'st given," and "Farewell, the Dream is over." Though the opera is monotonous from sameness of color and lack of dramatic interest, there are many numbers which leave a charming impression by their grace, refinement, and genuine poetical effect.

DONIZETTI.

Gaetano Donizetti was born at Bergamo, Italy, Sept. 25, 1798. He studied music both at Bologna and Naples, and then entered the army rather than subject himself to the caprice of his father, who was determined that he should devote himself to church music. While his regiment was at Naples he wrote his first opera, "Enrico di Borgogna" (1818), which was soon followed by a second, "Il Falegname de Livonia." The success of the latter was so great that it not only freed him from military service but gained him the honor of being crowned. The first opera which spread his reputation through Europe was "Anna Bolena," produced at Milan in 1830, and written for Pasta and Rubini. Two years afterwards, "L' Elisir d' Amore" appeared, which he is said to have written in fifteen days. He wrote with great facility. "Il Furioso," "Parisina," "Torquato Tasso," "Lucrezia Borgia," and "Gemma di Vergi" rapidly followed one another. In 1835 he brought out "Marino Faliero," but its success was small. Ample compensation was made, however, when in the same year "Lucia" appeared and was received with acclamations of delight. He was invited to Paris as the successor of Rossini, and wrote his "Marino Faliero" for the Theatre des Italiens. In 1840 he revisited Paris and produced "Il Poliuto," "La Fille du Regiment," and "La Favorita." Leaving Paris he visited Rome, Milan, and Vienna, bringing out "Linda di Chamouni" in the latter city. Returning to Paris again, he produced "Don Pasquale" at the Theatre des Italiens and "Don Sebastien" at the Academie, the latter proving a failure. His last opera, "Catarina Comaro," was brought out at Naples in 1844. This work also was a failure. It was evident that his capacity for work was over. He grew sad and melancholy, and during the last three years of his life was attacked by fits of abstraction which gradually intensified and ended in insanity and physical paralysis. He died at Bergamo, April 8, 1848.

THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT.

"The Daughter of the Regiment" ("La Fille du Regiment") opera comique in two acts, words by Bayard and St. Georges, was first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 11, 1840, with Mme. Anna Thillon in the role of Marie. Its first performance in English was at the Surrey Theatre, London, Dec. 21, 1847, under the title of "The Daughter of the Regiment," in which form it is best known in this country. In 1847 it was performed as an Italian opera in London, with added recitatives, and with Jenny Lind in the leading part.

The music of the opera is light and sparkling, the principal interest centring in the charming nature of the story and its humorous situations, which afford capital opportunities for comedy acting. The scene is laid in the Tyrol during its occupation by the French. Marie, the heroine, and the vivandiere of the Twenty-first regiment of Napoleon's army, was adopted as the Daughter of the Regiment, because she was found on the field, after a battle, by Sergeant Sulpice. On her person was affixed a letter written by her father to the Marchioness of Berkenfeld, which has been carefully preserved by the Sergeant. At the beginning of the opera the little waif has grown into a sprightly young woman, full of mischief and spirit, as is shown by her opening song ("The Camp was my Birthplace"), in which she tells the story of her life, and by the duet with Sulpice, known the world over as "The Rataplan," which is of a very animated, stirring, and martial character, to the accompaniment of rattling drums and sonorous brasses. She is the special admiration of Tony, a Tyrolean peasant, who has saved her from falling over a precipice. The soldiers of the regiment are profuse in their gratitude to her deliverer, and celebrate her rescue with ample potations, during which Marie sings the Song of the Regiment ("All Men confess it"). Poor Tony, however, who was found strolling in the camp, is placed under arrest as a spy, though he succeeds in obtaining an interview with Marie and declares his love for her. The declaration is followed by a charming duet ("No longer can I doubt it"). Tony manages to clear up his record, and the soldiers decide that he may have Marie's hand if he will consent to join them. He blithely accepts the condition and dons the French cockade. Everything seems auspicious, when suddenly the Marchioness of Berkenfeld appears and dashes Tony's hopes to the ground. The Sergeant, as in honor bound, delivers the letter he has been preserving. After reading it she claims Marie as her niece, and demands that the regiment shall give up its daughter, while Tony is incontinently dismissed as an unsuitable person to be connected in any capacity with her noble family. Marie sings a touching adieu to her comrades ("Farewell, a long Farewell"), and the act closes with smothered imprecations on the Marchioness by the soldiers, and protestations of undying love by Tony.

The second act opens in the castle of Berkenfeld, where Marie is duly installed, though she does not take very kindly to her change of surroundings. The old Sergeant is with her. Grand company is expected, and the Marchioness desires Marie to rehearse a romance ("The Light of Early Days was breaking"), which she is to sing to them.

Before she finishes it she and the Sergeant break out into the rollicking Rataplan and go through with the military evolutions, to the horror of the Marchioness. While regret for the absent Tony keeps her in a sad mood, she is suddenly cheered up by the sound of drums and fifes, announcing the approach of soldiers. They are the gallant Twenty-first, with Tony, now a colonel, at their head. He applies once more for Marie's hand. The soldiers also put in a spirited choral appeal ("We have come, our Child to free"). The Marchioness again refuses. Tony proposes an elopement, to which Marie, in resentment at her aunt's cruelty, consents. To thwart their plans, the Marchioness reveals to Marie that early in life she had been secretly married to an officer of lower family position than her own, and that this officer was Marie's father. Unable to dispute the wishes of her mother, she renounces Tony in an agony of grief. At last Marie's sorrow arouses old associations in the mind of the Marchioness, and she consents to the union of Tony and Marie.

While the music of the opera is light, it is none the less very attractive, and the work is nearly always popular when performed by good artists, owing to the comedy strength of the three leading parts, Marie, Tony, and the Sergeant. The role of the heroine, small as it is, has always been a favorite one with such great artists as Jenny Lind, Patti, Sontag, and Albani, while in this country Miss Kellogg and Mrs. Richings-Bernard made great successes in the part. The latter singer, indeed, and her father, whose personation of the Sergeant was very remarkable, were among the first to perform the work in the United States.

LA FAVORITA.

"La Favorita," an opera in four acts, words by Royer and Waetz, the subject taken from the French drama, "Le Comte de Commingues," was first produced at the Academie, Paris, Dec. 2, 1840, with Mme. Stolz as Leonora, Duprez as Fernando, and Baroelhst as Balthasar. Its success in England, where it was first produced Feb. 16, 1847, was made by Grisi and Mario. The scene of the opera is laid in Spain, and the first act opens in the convent of St. James, of Compostella, where the young novice, Fernando, is about to take monastic vows. Before the rites take place he is seized with a sudden passion for Leonora, a beautiful maiden who has been worshipping in the cloisters. He confesses his love to Balthasar, the superior, who orders him to leave the convent and go out into the world. Leonora, meanwhile, is beloved by Alphonso, king of Castile, who has provided her a secret retreat on the island of St. Leon. Though threatened by the pontiff with excommunication, he has resolved to repudiate his queen, in order that he may carry out his intention of marrying the beautiful Leonora. To her asylum a bevy of maidens conducts Fernando. He declares his passion for her and finds it reciprocated. He urges her to fly with him, but she declares it impossible, and giving him a commission in the army signed by the King, urges him to go to the wars and win honors for her sake.

In the second act Balthasar, in the name of the pontiff, visits their retreat and pronounces the papal anathema upon the guilty pair. The same curse is threatened to all the attendants unless Leonora is driven from the King, and the act closes with their vengeful menaces.

In the third act Fernando returns victorious from the war with the Moors. Already beginning to fear the result of the papal malediction, and having learned of Leonora's passion for the victor, Alphonso heaps rewards upon him, even to the extent of giving him Leonora's hand. Fernando, who is ignorant of her past relations to the King, eagerly accepts the proffer; but Leonora, in despair, sends her attendant, Inez, to inform him of the real nature of the situation and implore his forgiveness. The King intercepts her, and the marriage takes place at once, Fernando not discovering Leonora's shame until it is revealed by the courtiers, who avoid him. He flies from the world to the convent once more for shelter and consolation, followed by Leonora, who dies in his arms after she has obtained forgiveness.

The music of the work is very dramatic in its character, some of the finales being the strongest Donizetti has written. In the first act there is a beautifully melodious aria ("Una Vergine"), in which Fernando describes to Balthasar the vision of Leonora which had appeared to him at his orisons, and a very tender duet ("Deh, vanne! deh, parti") between Fernando and Leonora, in which they sorrowfully part from each other. In the second act the King has a very passionate aria, where he curses his courtiers for leaguing against him at Rome, followed by a very dramatic duet with Leonora ("Ah! l'alto ardor"). The third act contains the beautiful aria, "O mio Fernando!" which is a favorite with all contraltos. It is remarkable for its warmth and richness, as well as its dramatic spirit, and the act closes with a concerted finale of splendid power, in which Fernando breaks his sword, and once more Balthasar anathematizes the King. The fourth act is the most beautiful of all in its music and the most powerful in dramatic effect. The chorus of monks in the first scene ("Scaviam l'asilo") is remarkable for its religious character and solemnity. In the third scene occurs one of the tenderest and loveliest romanzas ever written ("Spirto gentil"), which Donizetti transferred to this work from his opera, "Le Duc d'Albe," which had not been performed, and the libretto of which was originally written by Scribe for Rossini. The closing duet between Fernando and Leonora is full of pathos and beauty, and forms a fitting close to an act which, in one sense at least, is an inspiration, as the whole act was composed in four hours,--a proof of the marvellous ease and facility with which Donizetti wrote.

DON PASQUALE.

"Don Pasquale," an opera buffa in three acts, was first produced at the Theatre des Italiens in Paris, Jan. 4, 1843, with the following extraordinary cast:

NORINA Mme. GRISI.
ERNESTO Sig. MARIO.
DR. MALATESTA Sig. TAMBURINI.
DON PASQUALE Sig. LABLACHE.

The scene of this brilliant and gay little opera is laid in Rome. Don Pasquale is in a rage with Ernesto, his nephew, because he will not marry to suit him. Dr. Malatesta, his friend and physician, who is also very much attached to the nephew, contrives a plot in the latter's interest. He visits the Don, and urges him to marry a lady, pretending that she is his sister, though in reality she is Norina, with whom Ernesto is in love. He then calls upon Norina, and lets her into the secret of the plot, and instructs her how to play her part. She is to consent to the marriage contract, and then so harass the Don that he will not only be glad to get rid of her, but will give his consent to her marriage with Ernesto. The second act opens in Don Pasquale's house, where Ernesto is bewailing his fate. The Don enters, magnificently dressed, and ready for the marriage. Norina appears with Malatesta, and feigns reluctance to enter into the contract; but when the notary arrives she consents to sign. No sooner, however, has she signed it than she drops her assumed modesty. Ernesto, who is present, is bewildered at the condition of affairs, but is kept quiet by a sign from the Doctor. Norina refuses all the Don's amatory demonstrations, and declares Ernesto shall be her escort. She summons the servants, and lays out a scheme of housekeeping so extravagant that the Don is enraged, and declares he will not pay the bills. She insists he shall, for she is now master of the house. In the third act we find Norina entertaining milliners and modistes. Don Pasquale enters, and learning that she is going to the theatre forbids it, which leads to a quarrel, during which Norina boxes his ears. As she leaves the room she drops a letter, the reading of which adds the pangs of jealousy to his other troubles. The Doctor at this juncture happens in and condoles with him. The Don insists that Norina shall quit his house at once. In the next scene he taxes her with having a lover concealed in the house, and orders her to leave. The Doctor counsels him to let his nephew marry Norina; and in the course of explanations the Don discovers that the Doctor's sister and Norina are one and the same person, and that the marriage was a sham. He is only too glad of an escape to quarrel with the Doctor for his plot, and the young couple are speedily united, and have the old man's blessing.

The charm of the opera lies in its comic situations, and the gay, bright music with which they are illustrated. It is replete with humor and spirit, and flows along in such a bright stream that it is almost impossible to cull out special numbers, though it contains two duets and a quartet which are of more than ordinary beauty, and the exquisite serenade in the last act, "Com'e gentil," which has been heard on almost every concert-stage of the world, and still holds its place in universal popular esteem. For brilliant gayety it stands in the front rank of all comic operas, though Donizetti was but three weeks in writing it. It is said that when it was in rehearsal its fate was uncertain. The orchestra and singers received it very coldly; but when the rehearsal was over, Donizetti merely shrugged his shoulders and remarked to his friend, M. Dormoy, the publisher: "Let them alone; they know nothing about it. I know what is the matter with 'Don Pasquale.' Come with me." They went to the composer's house. Rummaging among a pile of manuscripts, Donizetti pulled out a song. "This is what 'Don Pasquale' wants," he said. "Take it to Mario and tell him to learn it at once." Mario obeyed, and when the opera was performed sang it to the accompaniment of a tambourine, which Lablache played behind the scenes. The opera was a success at once, and no song has ever been more popular.

In strange contrast with the gay humor of "Don Pasquale," it may be stated that in the same year Donizetti wrote the mournful "Don Sebastian," which has been described as "a funeral in five acts." Crowest, in his "Anecdotes," declares that the serenade is suggestive of Highland music, and that many of his other operas are Scottish in color. He accounts for this upon the theory that the composer was of Scotch descent, his grandfather having been a native of Perthshire, by the name of Izett, and that his father, who married an Italian lady, was Donald Izett. The change from Donald Izett to Donizetti was an easy one. The story, however, is of doubtful authenticity.

LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.

"Lucia di Lammermoor," an opera in three acts, words by Cammarano, was first produced at Naples in 1835, with Mme. Persiani and Sig. Duprez, for whom the work was written, in the principal roles of Lucia and Edgardo. Its first presentation at Paris was Aug. 10, 1839; in London, April 5, 1838; and in English, at the Princess Theatre, London, Jan. 19, 1843. The subject of the opera is taken from Sir Walter Scott's novel, "The Bride of Lammermoor," and the scene is laid in Scotland, time, about 1669.

Sir Henry Ashton, of Lammermoor, brother of Lucy, the heroine, has arranged a marriage between her and Lord Arthur Bucklaw, in order to recover the fortune which he has dissipated, and to save himself from political peril he has incurred by his participation in movements against the reigning dynasty. Sir Edgar Ravenswood, with whom he is at enmity, is deeply attached to Lucy, who reciprocates his love, and on the eve of his departure on an embassy to France pledges herself to him. During his absence Edgar's letters are intercepted by her brother, who hints to her of his infidelity, and finally shows her a forged paper which she accepts as the proof that he is untrue. Overcome with grief at her lover's supposed unfaithfulness, and yielding to the pressure of her brother's necessities, she at last consents to her union with Lord Arthur. The marriage contract is signed with great ceremony, and just as she has placed her name to the fatal paper, Edgar suddenly appears. Learning from Lucy what she has done, he tramples the contract under foot, hurls an imprecation upon the house of Lammermoor, and bursts out of the room in a terrible rage. Sir Henry follows him, and a fierce quarrel ensues, which ends in a challenge. Meanwhile, at night, after the newly wedded couple have retired, a noise is heard in their apartment. The attendants rush in and find Lord Arthur dying from wounds inflicted by Lucy, whose grief has made her insane. When she returns to reason, the thought of what she has done and the horror of her situation overcome her, and shortly death puts an end to her wretchedness. Ignorant of her fate, Edgar goes to the churchyard of Ravenswood, which has been selected as the rendezvous for the duel with Sir Henry. While impatiently waiting his appearance, the bell of the castle tolls, and some of the attendants accosting him bring the news of her death. The despairing lover kills himself among the graves of his ancestors, and the sombre story ends.

The popular verdict has stamped "Lucia" as Donizetti's masterpiece, and if the consensus of musicians could be obtained, it would unquestionably confirm the verdict. It contains incomparably the grandest of his arias for tenor, the Tomb song in the last act, and one of the finest dramatic concerted numbers, the sextet in the second act, that can be found in any Italian opera. Like the quartet in "Rigoletto," it stands out in such bold relief, and is so thoroughly original and spontaneous, that it may be classed as an inspiration. The music throughout is of the most sombre character. It does not contain a joyous phrase. And yet it can never be charged with monotony. Every aria, though its tone is serious and more often melancholy, has its own characteristics, and the climaxes are worked up with great power. In the first act, for instance, the contrasts are very marked between Henry's aria ("Cruda, funesta smania"), the chorus of hunters ("Come vinti da stanchezza"), Henry's second aria ("La pietade in suo favore"), in which he threatens vengeance upon Edgar, the dramatic and beautifully written arias for Lucy, "Regnava nel silenzio" and "Quando rapita in estasi," and the passionate farewell duet between Lucy and Edgar, which is the very ecstasy of commingled love and sorrow. The second act contains a powerful duet ("Le tradirmi tu potrai") between Lucy and Henry; but the musical interest of the act centres in the great sextet, "Chi mi frena," which ensues when Edgar makes his unexpected appearance upon the scene of the marriage contract. For beauty, power, richness of melody and dramatic expression, few concerted numbers by any composer can rival it. The last act also contains two numbers which are always the delight of great artists,--the mad song of Lucy, "Oh, gioja che si senti," and the magnificent tomb scena, "Tomba degl'avi miei," which affords even the most accomplished tenor ample scope for his highest powers.

L'ELISIR D'AMORE.