SALOME.
An Opera in one act and Libretto by RICHARD STRAUSS founded on OSCAR WILDE'S drama.
On December 9th, 1905, this opera was performed for the first time in Dresden.
Its success was immense, and can only be compared with that achieved at Bayreuth in 1876 by the first performance of the Nibelungen Ring.
The well-nigh perfect interpretation of this highly emotional opera proved to be the most difficult composition ever before attempted at the Dresden Opera House.
Salome is the emanation of a genius; for the music is as weird and passionate as the libretto, and moreover perfectly in keeping with its plot. It would be difficult to do justice to it, for in order to appreciate its complicated grandeur, one must have heard it performed. It combines sublimity with asceticism and wickedness, in a most marvellous manner.
Oscar Wilde, the unhappy poet, has produced a wonderful piece of literature in his treatment of the brutal facts connected with Salome's dance and Jokanaan's decapitation.
According to the Biblical tale, Salome is simply the tool of her mother Herodias, at whose instigation she demands Jokanaan's head.
In Wilde's drama, as well as in Strauss' opera, Salome is a distinct personality, full of passion, whose instincts are in revolt against her vicious surroundings, and whose heart goes out in fiery love to the only man who comes up to her standard of what manhood should be—namely Jokanaan. When he repulses her, the passionate girl's love turns to blind and unreasoning hatred.
In the first scene Herod's soldiers are talking of the holy prophet Jokanaan, whose voice is heard from the well where he is kept captive by the Tetrarch of Galilee, Herod. Salome, hearing Jokanaan's strong, deep voice, is seized with a wild longing to behold the prophet, and she therefore declines her step-father's invitation to join in the festival. The soldiers, not daring to disobey Herod, obstinately refuse to grant Salome's request in regard to Jokanaan, so she turns to a young Syrian, Narraboth by name, who is devoted to her, and who, falling a victim to her charms, finally gives orders to lead forth the prophet.
When Jokanaan steps out of his prison, Salome looks spellbound at the stern and powerful face. Not heeding her, the prophet calls for Herod and his spouse, whom he vehemently reproaches for their sins.
Salome goes up to him, but he turns from he with lofty contempt. Vainly she uses all her wiles in an attempt to bewitch him; he sternly reproves her, and cursing her as the unfortunate daughter of a vicious mother, he returns to his dungeon.
Meanwhile Narraboth, seeing that his love for Salome is vain, and that she has only eyes for the prophet, stabs himself.
When Herod appears on the terrace with his wife, to look for his step-daughter, he sees the young Syrian dead on the ground. He asks the reason of his death, but receives no satisfactory answer. However, he guesses the truth, seeing Salome sitting apart, absorbed in gloomy thoughts. Herod is more in love with his step-daughter than with his wife, whose first husband he killed, and this excites Herodias' jealousy.
As a rule, Herod avoids the terrace, being afraid of Jokanaan's prophecies, in which he secretly believes. But now he desires Salome's presence to divert him, while she is in no mood to oblige him, and coldly refuses to eat and drink with him.
Then the prophet's voice is heard saying: "Lo! the time has come, the day which I prophesied has dawned." Herodias bids him be silent, but Herod is all the more impressed by the voice he fears. The Jews, who have been clamouring for six months for the prophet, again beg to have him delivered into their hands. When Jokanaan proclaims the Saviour of the world, the soldiers believe that he means the Roman Caesar, with the exception of a Nazarene who knows that he refers to the Messiah, who is accomplishing miracles and awakening the dead.
In order to drown his fears, Herod begs Salome to dance for him. He promises her all his finest jewels, his white peacocks, and even half his kingdom, but she nevertheless still refuses to dance for him. Her mother entreats her not to dance, when suddenly Salome changes her mind. After having made the Tetrarch swear by his own life to grant her wish, whatever it might be, she is ready to comply with his wish. Veils are brought, and Salome performs the dance of the Seven Veils, at the end of which she sinks down at Herod's feet.
"Tell me what you want, Queen of Beauty", says Herod. "I will grant you whatever you desire". "I want nothing more or less than Jokanaan's head on a silver dish", rejoins Salome, rising, with a cold smile.
While Herodias eagerly seconds this awful wish, Herod shrinks back in horror, but although he offers Salome every thing else which could please her, she only repeats her first wish.
At last Herod gives in, and drawing a ring from his finger, which gives the death-signal, he hands it to a soldier, who passes it on to the executioner, and the latter goes down into the dungeon.
A death-like silence ensues, during which Salome vainly listens for a sound or a cry from the dungeon into which she is peering. Finally she can bear the suspense no longer. Shrieking wildly she clamours for Jokanaan's head, and the executioner stretches forth a huge, black arm, holding a silver shield, with Jokanaan's head upon it.
While Herod covers his face, Salome seizes Jokanaan's head, and devouring its beauty with her eyes, she utters rapturous exclamations, and at last passionately kisses the lips she has so ardently coveted.
Herod, horrified by this monstrous spectacle, orders the torches to be put out, and turns to leave the dreadful place. When Salome exultingly cries, "I have kissed thy mouth, Jokanaan!", Herod turns, and seeing her, calls out loudly; "Kill this woman!" The soldiers rush forward, crushing the princess beneath their shields.
DIE SCHÖNEN VON FOGARAS.
(THE BEAUTIES OF FOGARAS.)
Comic Opera in three acts by ALFRED GRÜNFELD.
Words by VICTOR LÉON, founded on the Hungarian novel of MIKSZATH, "Szehistye, the village without Men".
This opera was first performed in Dresden on September 7th, 1907.
Victor Léon's great talent to amuse his public shows itself as clearly here as it did in "Barfüssele". The libretto is a lively picture of the time of the Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus.
Grünfeld's music is not deep, but delightfully fresh and naïve. He is master in the instrumentation of miniature art. His vivid rythms display a grace, an "entrain" and a piquancy, which remind one of Delibes and Massenet, without being imitations of these great masters.
The dances are perfectly original, full of life and fire, and the ballet in the second act is in itself a masterpiece, that will hold its own.
Besides this there are a roguish song by a goose-girl, a very pretty valse rondo, and last but not least many fine Hungarian songs.
The scene is laid in Transylvania in the year 1459.
The first act takes place in the Transylvanian village of Fogaras.
A long war has deprived the village of all its men, and the women of Fogaras are wildly lamenting their absence.
They have charged the governor ("Gespann") Paul Rosto to petition the King, to restore their husbands, and when the young schoolmaster, Augustin Paradiser, the only man in the village besides Rosto appears on the scene, they bitterly complain to him of the governor's dilatoriousness.
Augustin tries to appease them, by assuring them, that the petition was duly sent, and soon Rosto himself comes to his assistance by presenting them with the King's answer to their appeal.
His Majesty graciously agrees to the right of the women of Fogaras to claim their respective husbands, fathers and sons, the King having only borrowed them for a time.
But as unfortunately most of them were slain in battle or taken captive, he is unable to return them all, and therefore he declares himself ready to supply other men in their stead.
To this end it seems necessary to him, to see some of the Fogaras beauties, and therefore he decrees, that the town is to send him three specimen of the handsomest amongst them, a black haired, a brown haired and a fair haired beauty.
Should the women not be willing to comply with the King's command, they should be severely punished for having troubled his Majesty about nothing.
The women of Fogaras being all the reverse of pretty the governor finds himself in an awkward dilemma.
Fortunately for him the Countess Magdalen Honey has just returned home with her maid Marjunka.
The latter is at once surrounded by her old companions, and begins to tell them of their travels and adventures.—She relates how being at Buda ("Ofen") two years ago during the great coronation festival, King Matthias only danced with the Countess, and even kissed her before the whole assembly, and that Marjunka herself had also found a sweetheart in a first-rate violinist, and that everything had seemed to be turning out for the best, when they were suddenly summoned home to the old Countess's death-bed.
When, the year of mourning being passed, they returned to Buda, they found the doors of the Kingly palace closed to them; and now they have come home to their native village full of grief and sorrow.
Rosto, after having greeted the Countess, tells her of his difficulties about the three beautiful women, whom he cannot find; but the Countess smilingly points to her jet black hair and then to the pretty brunette Marjunka; and offers to drive with him to castle Varpalota, where the King resides.
Rosto is considerably relieved, as there is only the fair haired beauty still to be found.
At this moment the goose-girl Verona passes with her geese.
She is the sweetheart of the schoolmaster, who now comes to meet her, after having had a rehearsal with the school children for the reception of Countess Magdalen.
Their charming love duet is interrupted by Rosto.—While the Countess is greeted by the singing children, Rosto no sooner perceives the flaxen haired Verona, than he rushes up to her crying: "I have her, thank God!—the fairest of the fair!"
Augustin interposes, but when Magdalen promises, not only to take care of the young maiden, but also to give the sweethearts a cottage, two pigs, a cow and some geese after their return from Varpalota, he is satisfied, and offers himself a coachman for the journey and they all drive away in high glee.—
The second act takes place at the King's hunting palace Varpalota. A band of Bohemian musicians is playing to the people assembled, and their leader ("Primas") Czobor plays an exquisite solo to the royal cook Mujko, a most important person at court.
King Matthias tries to kill the time with all kinds of tricks and frolics,—he vainly strives to forget the sweet lady he saw but once, and whom he has sought for two years in vain.
He is on the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, before which date he is either to choose a bride or to lose his crown.
When the Paladin comes up to remind him of the fact, the King answers: "Give me Magdalena Honey and I will marry her at once!" But the Paladin, who wants him to marry his niece Ilona Orszagh answers, that the Countess could not be found anywhere.
Meanwhile General Hunyadi sends a number of prisoners to the King, and the women of Fogaras being announced at the same time, Matthias orders all to be brought before him.
The wild idea has come into his head of turning his cook into the King, while he himself is to play the part of the cook.
The change is soon effected and a ludicrous scene ensues; the big cook appearing in comic majesty before his subjects. Then the whole court groups around the mock King, to receive the women of Fogaras, who drive up, clad in the rich costume of the Szekle peasants.
Mujko, the sham King, expresses his perfect satisfaction with the three beauties and begins to flirt with them. Magdalen, perceiving at once that they are being deceived, recognises the true King in the disguise of the cook, while he is haunted by a dim recollection, without being able to recognise the Countess in her disguise.
The scene ends with a charming ballet.—
In the third act Augustin has a stormy interview with Verona, whom he saw with a jealous eye flirting with the pretended cook.
Magdalen, who has also perceived Verona's wiles and graces, believes herself to be forgotten by the King, but Marjunka advises her, to revive his memory by a song, which he once composed for his lady love.
Meanwhile Augustin, goaded to fury by his provoking little bride, threatens to denounce the cook's love making to the King, and when he finds himself alone with the man, whom he takes for the cook, he tells him, that the King is being deceived, for the three beauties do not come from Fogaras.
On hearing this, the King decides to punish them for their treachery.—The prisoners being brought into the courtyard he tells Mujko to choose every tenth man of them as husbands for the three beauties of Fogaras.
Mujko announcing their fate to the ladies frightens them to death, the prisoners presenting a most repulsive aspect of misery and neglect.
The lot of the brunette is the first cast, but Czobor, the Bohemian leader intervenes, having recognised in Marjunka the girl he saw and loved two years ago.
After a sign from the King Mujko consents to give the brunette to Czobor.
Then comes Verona's turn and Augustin claims her as his already affianced bride.
The black haired lady being the last one left, Mujko begins to count, when Magdalen slowly approaches the King, singing softly: "Take my life, take my all, I will greet thee as my lady, thou, a King's Consort."
Now the King recognises at last his lost lady love. Pushing back Verona, whom Mujko has presented to him he cries: "I choose the black haired one!" and throwing off his disguise he embraces Magdalen.—
The bells of the royal chapel now begin to ring, and the priests receive and bless the three happy bridal couples.
As they leave the chapel they are met by the Paladin, ready to marry his niece to the King.
But Matthias, seizing Magdalen's hand, proclaims her his Consort, and all hail her as Hungary's Queen.
TIEFLAND.
(THE LOWLANDS.)
A musical Drama in two acts and a Prelude by EUGÈNE D'ALBERT.
Text after A. Guivera by RUDOLPH LOTHAR.
With this work the gifted composer has gained a footing, which promises to be permanent in the musical world, for the opera has been accepted by all the leading theatres in Germany and Austria, and its performances in Berlin, in Prague, in Dresden and in Vienna have found uniform appreciation.
D'Albert's strongest point is his orchestration, which is admirably adapted to the text. His music, if lacking a personal note is always noble, harmonious and perfectly clear and agreeable to the ear.
The Prelude is on the whole the finest part of the drama. The broad flowing motive of the shepherd's pipe is the incarnation of peace and pure nature, the musical transition from the Prelude to act I is one, of the best things, that D'Albert ever did, and the peasant scenes, the trio of the three mocking village lasses are of the most enlivening freshness.
The text is ultra realistic, almost brutal.
The name "Tiefland" has a double meaning; this we learn from the Prelude.—
The plot is laid in the Pyrenees. Pedro, the shepherd lives alone in the high and clear mountain air. His one wish is to have a companion, a wife. This desire is realised by the arrival of Sebastiano, supposed to be a wealthy landowner, who offers Pedro a mill and a bride in the person of Marta.
The girl is Sebastiano's mistress, but financial difficulties compel him to get rid of her, in order to avoid scandal and to obtain a rich bride.
The simple and unsuspecting Pedro accepts the unexpected gifts with delight, not heeding Marta's reluctance, and so he leaves the clear physical and moral atmosphere of the mountains and descends into "Tiefland", the low valley with its human passions and human tragedies.
The first act takes place in the mill, where three village girls gossip about Marta's wedding, which is to take place on the very same day.
Nuri, a little girl and Marta's friend, has heard from Tommaso, an octogenarian, that their rich and mighty master Sebastiano has found a husband for Marta, and that the latter, being the master's property like everything else around, has to obey his orders.
Marta herself is in despair; she despises Pedro, her future husband, suspecting him to have been bribed to consent to this shameful bargain by her lover and tyrant Sebastiano.
But Pedro is quite ignorant of the true facts as is old Tommaso, who is only now enlightened by Moruccio, the miller's man, as to Marta's actual position.
Horrified at having helped to bring about this sinful marriage, Tommaso tries to dissuade Sebastiano from his evil designs, but the landowner drives him away and orders the clergyman to marry the young couple at once.
Pedro is in high glee, but vainly tries to win a smile or a kind word from his unhappy bride. While the village lads lead him away to be dressed for the wedding, Sebastiano, taking Marta aside, once more impresses upon her, that she is still and always will be his, and that he will come to her chamber on the bridal night.
Marta shrinks from him in horror, but when Petro returns to fetch her, she instinctively turns from him to her old master.
Petro has disdained to put on the fine clothes offered him, and goes to church with his bride in his own old jacket.
When they are gone, Tommaso calls the land-owner once more to account about Marta, and learns, that everything Moruccio told him is true, for the young man repeats the story in his master's presence.
Tommaso hastens away, to stop the marriage, but already the church bells are ringing and the bridal procession returns.
Pedro sends his guests away, and when alone with his wife tries to win her love by his simple arts and wiles. He shows her the first hard earned silver coin he gained by killing a wolf, which had made havoc amongst the master's herds. The coin is still red with Pedro's own blood.
But Marta, though somewhat softened and interested in spite of herself only points to the room opposite her own, and is about to leave him, when suddenly a light is seen in her own room. Marta shrinks back frightened and this awakens Pedro's suspicions.
He too has seen the light, but Marta succeeds in quieting him for the moment, as the light has disappeared.
Slowly a change is coming over Marta. As she perceives, that Pedro is quite ignorant of her true position, her heart goes out to him, but she gives no sign of the love, that has taken possession of her. She resolves to stay all night in this outer hall and sinks down near the hearth, while Pedro stretches himself on the floor at her feet and soon falls asleep.—
The second act still finds them in the same position. Marta, seeing Pedro asleep, gets up quietly in the early dawn, to attend to her household cares.
When she is out of the hall or kitchen, Nuri comes in and awakes Pedro. The poor lad's suspicions return and are intensified tenfold by Nuri's remarks about the village people, who laugh at and pity the young husband, and she wonders, what the reason of this can be.
Marta, finding the two together, drives the girl away. Her love for Pedro is awakened and with it jealousy. But Pedro, without looking at his young wife, takes Nuri by the hand and leads her away.
Old Tommaso, who now comes in, reproaches Marta for her evil life. With bitter tears she tells him her whole story. How she lived in Barcelona with her mother, a beggar, having never known her father;—how her mother died after years of misery, and how the old lame man, who lived with them, took her abroad, and made her dance and beg for him.
Having one day reached this village, the pretty girl of thirteen pleased the rich landowner Sebastiano, and he made her his mistress, after giving her old foster-father this mill by way of renumeration for his connivance.—She was often about to drown herself, but her courage failed her, and so her life was passed in misery until the day of this marriage, into which she was forced by her master.
Tommaso advises her, to confess everything to her husband, and to ask his forgiveness.
In the next scene the village girls come to visit the young couple; they drive Pedro almost mad with their taunts and innuendos, telling him to ask Marta about their meaning.
When they are gone and Marta brings him the soup for his breakfast, he refuses to touch it, and abruptly tells her, that he is going back to the mountains alone.
Full of despair Marta defiantly owns, that she has belonged to another, and recklessly goads him to such fury, that he seizes a knife and wounds her in the arm.
She implores him to kill her, but seeing her blood flow, his love gets the better of him; he presses her to his heart, and persuades her to fly with him from the baleful air of the plain to the pure heights of the mountains.
But the door is barred by a crowd of peasants and by Sebastiano himself, who enters triumphantly and bids Marta dance for him. Pedro forbids this and the master strikes him.
Still Pedro's respect holds him in check, till Marta whispers to him, that Sebastiano is the man, who has brought her to shame.
On this Pedro flies at the scoundrel. He is however prevented from attacking him by being forcibly removed by the peasants at Sebastiano's command.
Marta sinks back in a swoon.
At this moment old Tommaso returns, and tells Sebastiano, that having denounced his villany to the rich bride's father, the daughter is now lost to him.
Recklessly Sebastiano turns to Marta, who, having revived, finds herself alone with her old tyrant.
She struggles against him, calling to Pedro, who suddenly returns through another door, and bidding the scoundrel defend himself rushes upon him with his knife. But Sebastiano has no weapon, Pedro therefore throws down his knife and says they can wrestle then, and so be on equal terms.
After a short and desperate struggle Pedro succeeds in strangling Sebastiano, who falls dead to the ground.
Pedro then calls the villain's servants, and taking his wife into his arms, rushes away from the "Tiefland" to find peace and happiness in the mountains.