The Standard Operas: Their Plots, Their Music, and Their Composers / (12th edition)

by George P. Upton

MEYERBEER.

Giacomo Meyerbeer, the eldest son of Herz Beer, was born in Berlin, Sept. 5, 1794. He was named Jacob Meyer Beer, but afterwards called himself Giacomo Meyerbeer. His early studies were pursued with the pianist Lanska, and Bernard Anselm Weber, chief of the Berlin orchestra. At fifteen he became the pupil of Vogler in Darmstadt, with whom he displayed such talent in composition that he was named Composer to the Court by the Grand Duke. At eighteen his first dramatic work, "The Daughter of Jephtha," was performed at Munich. He then began the world for himself, and made his début in Vienna as a pianist with great success. His first opera, "The Two Caliphs," met with complete failure, as it was not written in the Italian form. He at once transformed his style and brought out "Romilda e Costanza," a serio-comic opera, with great success, at Padua. In 1820, "Emma di Resburgo" appeared at Venice, and from this period his star was in the ascendant. "The Gate of Brandeburg," "Margharita d' Anjou," "Esule di Granata," and "Almanzar" followed in quick succession, and were well received, though with nothing like the furor which "Il Crociato in Egitto" created in Venice in 1824. His next great work, "Robert le Diable," was produced in Paris, Nov. 21, 1831, the unparalleled success of which carried its fame to every part of the civilized world. In 1836 "The Huguenots," unquestionably his masterpiece, was brought out, and it still holds its place as one of the grandest dramatic works the world has ever seen. In 1838 Scribe furnished him the libretto of "L'Africaine," but before the music was finished he had changed the text so much that Scribe withdrew it altogether. He was consoled, however, by Meyerbeer's taking from him the libretto of "Le Prophete," this opera being finished in 1843. During the following year he wrote several miscellaneous pieces besides the three-act German opera, "Ein Feldlager in Schlesien," in which Jenny Lind made her Berlin début. In 1846 he composed the overture and incidental music to his brother's drama of "Struensee," and in 1847 he not only prepared the way for Wagner's "Flying Dutchman" in Paris, but personally produced "Rienzi,"—services which Wagner poorly requited. In 1849 "Le Prophete" was given in Paris; in 1854, "L'Etoile du Nord;" and in 1859, "Dinorah;" but none of them reached the fame of "The Huguenots." In 1860 he wrote two cantatas and commenced a musical drama called "Goethe's Jugendzeit," which was never finished. In 1862 and 1863 he worked upon "L'Africaine," and at last brought it forward as far as a rehearsal; but he died April 23, 1863, and it was not performed until two years after his death.

THE HUGUENOTS.

"Les Huguenots," a grand opera in five acts, words by Scribe and Deschamps, was first produced at the Académie, Paris, Feb. 29, 1836, with the following cast of the principal parts:—

VALENTIN Mlle. FALCON.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS Mme. DORUS-GRAS.
URBAIN Mlle. FLECHEUX.
COUNT DE ST. BRIS M. LERDA.
COUNT DE NEVERS M. DERIVIS.
RAOUL DE NANGIS M. NOURRIT.
MARCEL M. LEVASSEUR.

At its first production in London in Italian, as "Gli Ugonotti," July 20, 1848, the cast was even more remarkable than that above. Meyerbeer specially adapted the opera for the performance, transposed the part of the page, which was written for a soprano, and expressly composed a cavatina to be sung by Mme. Alboni, in the scene of the château and gardens of Chenonceaux, forming the second act of the original work, but now given as the second scene of the first act in the Italian version. The cast was as follows:—

VALENTIN Mme. PAULINE VIARDOT.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS Mme. CASTELLAN.
URBAIN Mlle. ALBONI.
COUNT DE ST. BRIS Sig. TAMBURINI.
COUNT DE NEVERS Sig. TAGLIAFICO.
RAOUL DE NANGIS Sig. MARIO.
MARCEL Sig. MARINI.

The action of the opera passes in 1572, the first and second acts in Touraine, and the remainder in Paris. The first act opens on a scene of revelry in the salon of Count de Nevers, where a number of noblemen, among them Raoul de Nangis, a Protestant, accompanied by his faithful old Huguenot servant, Marcel, are present, telling stories of their exploits in love. Marguerite de Valois, the betrothed of Henry IV., for the sake of reconciling the dispute between the two religious sects, sends her page to De Nevers's salon and invites Raoul to her château. When he arrives, Marguerite informs him of her purpose to give him in marriage to a Catholic lady, daughter of the Count de St. Bris. Raoul at first consents; but when Valentin is introduced to him and he discovers her to be a lady whom he had once rescued from insult and who had visited De Nevers in his salon, he rejects the proposition, believing that her affections have been bestowed upon another, and that his enemies are seeking to entrap him. St. Bris challenges Raoul for the affront, but the Queen disarms the angry combatants. Valentin is now urged to marry Count de Nevers, and begs that she may pass the day in prayer in the chapel. Meanwhile Count de St. Bris, who has been challenged by Raoul, forms a plot for his assassination, which is overheard by Valentin from within the chapel. She communicates the plot to Marcel, who lies in wait with a party of Huguenots in the vicinity of the duel, and comes to Raoul's rescue when danger threatens him. A general combat is about to ensue, but it is suppressed by Marguerite, who suddenly appears upon the scene. Raoul thus discovers that he owes his life to Valentin, and that her visit to De Nevers was to induce him to sever the relations between them, as she was in love with Raoul. The announcement comes too late, for the marriage festivities have already begun. Raoul visits her for the last time. Their interview is disturbed by the approach of De Nevers, St. Bris, and other Catholic noblemen, who meet to arrange the details of the plot conceived by Catherine de Médicis for the slaughter of the Huguenots on St. Bartholomew's Eve. Valentin hurriedly conceals Raoul behind the tapestries, where he overhears their plans and witnesses the conjuration and the blessing of the swords, as well as the refusal of the chivalrous De Nevers to engage in murder. After the conspirators have departed, Raoul and Valentin have a long and affecting interview, in which he hesitates between love and honor, Valentin striving to detain him lest he may be included in the general massacre. Honor at last prevails, and he joins his friends just before the work of slaughter begins. He rushes to the festivities which are about to be given in honor of the marriage of Marguerite with the King of Navarre, and warns the Huguenots of their danger. He then makes his way to a chapel where many of them are gathered for refuge. He finds Marcel, who has been wounded, and who brings him the tidings of the death of De Nevers. The faithful Valentin joins them to share their fate. Amid the horrors of the massacre Marcel blesses and unites them. They enter the church and all perish together.

The first act opens with the brilliant chorus of the revellers ("Piacer della mensa"), which is full of courtly grace. Raoul tells the story of the unknown fair one he has encountered, in the romanza, "Piu bianca del velo." When Marcel is called upon, he hurriedly chants the hymn, "O tu che ognor," set to the Martin Luther air, "Ein feste Burg," and heightened by a stirring accompaniment, and then bursts out into a graphic song ("Finita è pe' frati"), emphasized with the piff-paff of bullets and full of martial fervor. In delightful contrast with the fierce Huguenot song comes the lively and graceful romanza of Urbain ("Nobil donna e tanto onesta"), followed by a delightful septet. The scene now changes, and with it the music. We are in the Queen's gardens at Chenonceaux. Every number, the Queen's solo ("A questa voce sola"), the delicate "Bathers' Chorus," as it is called ("Audiam, regina, in questo amene sponde"), the brilliant and graceful allegretto sung by Urbain ("No, no, no, no"), the duet between the Queen and Raoul, based upon one of the most flowing of melodies, and the spirited and effective finale in which the nobles take the oath of allegiance ("Per la fè, per l'onore"),—each and every one of these is colored with consummate skill, while all are invested with chivalrous refinement and stately grace.

The second act opens with a beautiful choral embroidery in which different choruses, most striking in contrast, are interwoven with masterly skill. It is a picture, in music, of the old Paris. The citizens rejoice over their day's work done. The Huguenots shout their lusty Rataplan, while the Papist maidens sing their solemn litany ("Ave Maria") on their way to chapel; and as they disappear, the quaint tones of the curfew chant are heard, and night and rest settle down upon the city. It is a striking introduction to what follows,—the exquisite duet between Marcel and Valentin, the great septet of the duel scene, beginning, "De dritti miei ho l'alma accesa," with the tremendous double chorus which follows as the two bands rush upon the scene. As if for relief from the storm of this scene, the act closes with brilliant pageant music as De Nevers approaches to escort Valentin to her bridal.

The third act is the climax of the work, and stands almost unrivalled in the field of dramatic music, for the manner in which horror and passion are illustrated. After a dark and despairing aria by Valentin ("Eccomi sola ormai"), and a brief duet with Raoul, the conspirators enter. The great trio, closing with the conjuration, "Quel Dio," the awful and stately chant of the monks in the blessing of the unsheathed daggers ("Sia gloria eterna e onore"), and the thrilling unisons of the chorus ("D'un sacro zel l'ardore"), which fairly glow with energy, fierceness, and religious fury,—these numbers of themselves might have made an act; but Meyerbeer does not pause here. He closes with a duet between Raoul and Valentin which does not suffer in comparison with the tremendous combinations which have preceded it. It is filled with the alternations of despair and love, of grief and ecstasy. In its movement it is the very whirlwind of passion. Higher form dramatic music can hardly reach. In the Italian version the performance usually closes at this point; but there is still another striking and powerful scene, that in which Raoul and Valentin are united by the dying Marcel. Then the three join in a sublime trio, and for the last time chant together the old Lutheran psalm, and await their fate amid the triumphant harpings that sound from the orchestra and the hosanna they sing to its accompaniment.

THE STAR OF THE NORTH.

"L'Étoile du Nord," an opera in three acts, words by Scribe, was first performed at the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 16, 1854, and in Italian as "La Stella del Nord" at Covent Garden, London, July 19, 1855. In English it has been produced under the title of "The Star of the North." The opera contains several numbers from the composer's earlier work, "Feldlager in Schlesien," which was written for the opening of the Berlin opera-house, in memory of Frederick the Great, and was subsequently (Feb. 17, 1847) performed with great success in Vienna, Jenny Lind taking the rôle of Vielka. The "Feldlager," however, has never been given out of Germany.

The action of the opera transpires in Wyborg, on the Gulf of Finland, in the first act, at a camp of the Russians in the second, and at the palace of the Czar Peter in the third. In the first, Peter, who is working at Wyborg, disguised as a carpenter, makes the acquaintance of Danilowitz, a pastry-cook, and Catharine, a cantiniere, whose brother George is about to marry Prascovia. Catharine brings about this marriage; and not only that, but saves the little village from an invasion by a strolling horde of Tartars, upon whose superstition she practises successfully, and so conducts herself in general that Peter falls in love with her, and they are betrothed, though she is not aware of the real person who is her suitor. Meanwhile the conscription takes place, and to save her newly wedded brother she volunteers for fifteen days in his place, disguising herself as a soldier. In the next act we find Catharine going her rounds as a sentinel in the Russian camp on the Finnish frontier. Peter and Danilowitz are also there, and are having a roistering time in their tent, drinking and making love to a couple of girls. Hearing Peter's voice she recognizes it, and curiosity leads her to peep into the tent. She is shocked at what she beholds, neglects her duty, and is found by the corporal in this insubordinate condition. He remonstrates with her, and she answers with a slap on his ears, for which she incurs the penalties of disobedience to orders as well as insulting behavior to her superior officer. Peter at last is roused from his drunkenness by the news of an insurrection among his own soldiers and the approach of the enemy. He rushes out and promises to give Peter into their hands if they will obey and follow him. At last, struck with his bearing and authority, they demand to know who he is, whereupon he declares himself the Czar. The mutiny is at once quelled. They submit, and offer their lives as warrant for their loyalty. The last act opens in the Czar's palace, where his old companion, Danilowitz, has been installed in high favor. Catharine, however, has disappeared. George and Prascovia arrive from Finland, but they know nothing of her. The faithful Danilowitz finds her, but she has lost her reason. Her friends try to restore it by surrounding her with recollections of home, and Peter at last succeeds by playing upon his flute the airs he used to play to her in Finland. Her senses come back, and thus all ends happily; for Catharine and Peter are at last united amid the acclamations of the people.

In the first act the character of Peter is well expressed in the surly, growling bass of his soliloquy ("Vedra, vedra"). It is followed by a characteristic drinking-chorus ("Alla Finlanda, beviam"), a wild, barbaric rhythm in the minor, which passes into a prayer as they invoke the protection of Heaven upon Charles XII. In the eighth scene occur the couplets of Gritzensko as he sings the wild song of the Kalmucks. In charming contrast, in the next scene, Catharine sings the gypsy rondo, which Jenny Lind made so famous ("Wlastla la santa"), which is characterized by graceful coquetry; and this in turn is followed by a striking duet between Catharine and Peter, in which the individual characteristics of the two are brought out in genuine Wagnerian style. In the thirteenth scene occurs the bridal song of Prascovia ("Al suono dell'ora"), with choral accompaniment, of a delicate and coquettish cast, leading up to the finale, beginning with the soldiers' chorus ("Onor che a gloria"), with an accompaniment of drums and fifes, again passing to a pathetic prayer ("Veglia dal ciel su lor") sung by Catharine amid the ringing of bells as the bridal wreath is placed upon Prascovia's head, and closing with a florid barcarole ("Vascel che lasci") as she sails away.

The second act opens with ballet music, full of Eastern color, and then ensues one of those choral combinations, like that in the second act of "the Huguenots," in which Meyerbeer so much delighted,—a cavalry chorus ("Bel cavalier del cuor d'acciar"), followed by the Grenadier's song, accompanied by chorus ("Granadier di Russia esperti"), the chorus taking up the "tr-r-r-um" refrain in imitation of the drum. In the eighth scene we have the orgy in the tent in the form of a very spirited dramatic trio, in which Peter sings a blithe drinking-song ("Vedi al par del rubino"); this in turn resolving into a quintet ("Vezzose vivandiere"), and again into a sextet, as Ismailoff enters with a letter for the Czar. The finale is a superb military picture, made up of the imposing oath of death to the tyrant, the stirring Dessauer march, the cavalry fanfare, and the Grenadiers' march, interwoven with the chorus of women as they cheer on the marching soldiers.

The third act opens with a romanza ("Dal cor per iscacciare"), very tender and beautiful, in which the rugged Czar shows us the sentimental side of his character. In the third scene occurs a long buffo trio between Peter, Gritzensko, and Danilowitz, which is full of humor. In the finale we have Catharine in the mad scene, singing the scena, "L'aurora alfin succede," with bits of the old music running through the accompaniment; and in the final scene, as her reason returns, breaking out in the florid bravura, "Non s'ode alcun," accompanied by the first and second flutes, which is a triumph of virtuosity for the voice. This number was taken from "The Camp in Silesia," and was given by Jenny Lind with immense success, not only in the latter work, but upon the concert stage. The opera as a whole abounds in humor, its music is fresh and brilliant, and its military character makes it specially attractive.

ROBERT THE DEVIL

"Robert le Diable," a grand opera in five acts, words by Scribe and Delavigne, was first produced at the Académie, Paris, Nov. 21, 1831, with the following cast:—

ALICE Mlle. DORUS.
ISABELLE Mme. CINTI-DAMOREAU.
THE ABBESS Sigr. TAGLIONI.
ROBERT M. NOURRIT.
BERTRAM M. LEVASSEUR.
RAIMBAUT M. LAFONT.

In the following year two versions in English, both of them imperfect, were brought out by the rival theatres, Covent Garden and Drury Lane. On the 20th of February it appeared at Drury Lane under the title of "The Demon; or, the Mystic Branch," and at Covent Garden the next evening as "The Fiend Father, or Robert Normandy." Drury Lane had twenty-four hours the start of its rival, but in neither case were the representations anything but poor imitations of the original. On the 11th of the following June the French version was produced at the King's Theatre, London, with the same cast as in Paris, except that the part of Alice was taken by Mme. De Meric, and that of the Abbess by the danseuse Mlle. Heberlé. On the 4th of May, 1847, the first Italian version was produced at Her Majesty's Theatre, with Jenny Lind and Staudigl in the cast. Gruneisen, the author of a brief memoir of Meyerbeer, who was present, says: "The night was rendered memorable, not only by the massacre attending the general execution, but also by the début of Mlle. Lind in this country, who appeared as Alice. With the exception of the débutante, such a disgraceful exhibition was never before witnessed on the operatic stage. Mendelssohn was sitting in the stalls, and at the end of the third act, unable to bear any longer the executive infliction, he left the theatre."

The libretto of "Robert the Devil" is absurd in its conceptions and sensational in its treatment of the story, notwithstanding that it came from such famous dramatists as Scribe and Delavigne; and it would have been still worse had it not been for Meyerbeer. Scribe, it is said, wished to introduce a bevy of sea-nymphs, carrying golden oars, as the tempters of Robert; but the composer would not have them, and insisted upon the famous scene of the nuns, as it now stands, though these were afterwards made the butt of almost endless ridicule. Mendelssohn himself, who was in Paris at this time, writes: "I cannot imagine how any music could be composed on such a cold, formal extravaganza as this." The story runs as follows: The scene is laid in Sicily, where Robert, Duke of Normandy, who by his daring and gallantries had earned the sobriquet of "the Devil," banished by his own subjects, has arrived to attend a tournament given by the Duke of Messina. In the opening scene, while he is carousing with his knights, the minstrel Raimbaut sings a song descriptive of the misdeeds of Robert. The latter is about to revenge himself on the minstrel, when Alice, his foster-sister and the betrothed of Raimbaut, appears and pleads with him to give up his wicked courses, and resist the spirit of evil which is striving to get the mastery of him. Robert then confides to Alice his hopeless passion for Isabella, daughter of the Duke. While they are conversing, Bertram, "the unknown," enters, and Alice shrinks back affrighted, fancying she sees in him the evil spirit who is luring Robert on to ruin. After she leaves, Bertram entices him to the gaming-table, from which he rises a beggar,—and worse than this, he still further prejudices his cause with Isabella by failing to attend the tournament, thus forfeiting his knightly honor.

The second act opens upon an orgy of the evil spirits in the cavern of St. Irene. Bertram is present, and makes a compact with them to loose Robert from his influence if he does not yield to his desires at once. Alice, who has an appointment with the minstrel in the cavern, overhears the compact, and determines to save him. Robert soon appears, mourning over his losses and dishonor; but Bertram promises to restore everything if he will visit the ruined Abbey of St. Rosalie, and carry away a mystic branch which has the power of conferring wealth, happiness, and immortality. He consents; and in the next scene Bertram pronounces the incantation which calls up the buried nuns. Dazed with their ghostly fascinations, Robert seizes the branch and flies. His first use of it is to enter the apartments of Isabella, unseen by her or her attendants, all of whom become immovable in the presence of the mystic talisman. He declares his intention of carrying her away; but moved by her entreaties he breaks the branch, which destroys the charm. In the last act Bertram is at his side again, trying to induce him to sign the fatal compact. The strains of sacred music which he hears, and the recollections of his mother, restrain him. In desperation Bertram announces himself as his fiend-father. He is about to yield, when Alice appears and reads to him his mother's warning against the fiend's temptation. As he still hesitates, the clock strikes, and the spell is over. Bertram disappears, and the scene changes to the cathedral, where Isabella in her wedding robes awaits the saved Robert.

From the musical point of view "Robert le Diable" is interesting, as it marks the beginning of a new school of grand opera. With this work, Meyerbeer abandoned the school of Rossini and took an independent course. He cut loose from the conventional classic forms and gave the world dramatic music, melodies of extraordinary dramatic force, brilliant orchestration, stately pageants, and theatrical effects. "Robert le Diable" was the first of the subsequent great works from his pen which still further emphasized his new and independent departure. It is only necessary to call attention to a few prominent numbers, for this opera has not as many instances of these characteristics as those which followed and which are elsewhere described. The first act contains the opening bacchanalian chorus ("Versiamo a tazza plena"), which is very brilliant in character; the minstrel's song in the same scene ("Regnava un tempo in Normandia"), with choral accompaniment; and a very tender aria for Alice ("Vanne, disse, al figlio mio"), in which she delivers his mother's message to Robert. The second act opens with a spirited duet between Bertram and Raimbaut, leading up to a powerful and characteristic chorus of the evil spirits ("Demoni fatali"). An aria for Alice ("Nel lasciar in Normandia"), a duet between Bertram and Alice ("Trionfo bramato"), and an intensely dramatic trio between Bertram, Alice, and Robert ("Lo sguardo immobile"), prepare the way for the great scena of the nuns, known as "La Temptation," in which Meyerbeer illustrates the fantastic and oftentimes ludicrous scene with music which is the very essence of diabolism, and in its way as unique as the incantation music in "Der Freischutz." The third act contains two great arias. The first ("Invano il fato"), sung at the opening of the act by Isabella, and the second the world-famous aria "Roberto, o tu che adoro," better known by the French words ("Robert! toi que j'aime"). The closing act is specially remarkable for the great terzetto in its finale, which is one of the most effective numbers Meyerbeer has written. The judgment of Hanslick, the great Viennese critic, upon this work is interesting in this connection. He compares it with "William Tell" and "Masaniello," and finds that in musical richness and blended effects it is superior to either, but that a single act of either of the works mentioned contains more artistic truth and ideal form than "Robert le Diable,"—a judgment which is largely based upon the libretto itself, which he condemns without stint.

DINORAH

"Dinorah," an opera in three acts, founded upon a Breton idyl, words by Barbiere and Carré, was first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, April 4, 1859, under the title of "Le Pardon de Ploermel." It contains but three principal characters, and these were cast as follows: Dinorah, Mme. Cabel; Corentin, M. Sainte-Foy; and Höel, M. Faure. On the 26th of July, 1859, Meyerbeer conducted the work himself at Covent Garden, London, with Mme. Miolan-Carvalho as Dinorah, and it was also produced in the same year in English by the Pyne-Harrison troupe. The first representative of Dinorah in this country was Mlle. Cordier.

The scene of the opera is laid in Brittany, and when the first act opens, the following events are supposed to have transpired. On one of the days set apart by the villagers of Ploermel for a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Virgin, Höel, the goatherd, and Dinorah, his affianced, set out to receive a nuptial benediction. The festivity is interrupted by a thunder-storm, during which Les Herbiers, the dwelling-place of Dinorah, is destroyed by lightning. Dinorah is in despair. Höel determines to make good the loss, and upon the advice of Tonick, an old wizard, resolves to go in quest of a treasure which is under the care of the Korigans, a supernatural folk belonging to Brittany. In order to wrest it from them, however, it is necessary for Höel to quit the country and spend a year in solitude in a desolate region. He bravely starts off, and Dinorah, thinking he has abandoned her, loses her wits, and constantly wanders about the woods with her goat, seeking him. Meanwhile the year expires and Höel returns, convinced that he has the secret for securing the treasure.

The overture to the work is unique among operatic overtures, as it has a chorus behind the curtain interwoven with it. It is a picture of the opera itself, and contains a will-o'-the-wisp passage, a rustic song with accompaniment of goat-bells, a storm, and in the midst of the storm a chant to the Virgin, sung by the unseen chorus, and then a Pilgrimage march, the whole being in the nature of a retrospect. The curtain rises upon a rustic chorus, after which Dinorah appears, seeking her goat, and sings a slumber-song ("Si, carina, caprettina") which is very graceful, and concludes with phrases in imitation of birds. In the next scene, Corentin, the bagpiper, who has been away three months, and is nearly dead with terror of goblins and fairies, returns to his cottage, and to reassure himself sings a very quaint and original song ("Sto in casa alfine"), to the accompaniment of his pipe. Dinorah suddenly appears and enters the cottage, and much to his alarm keeps him playing and singing, which leads to a very animated vocal contest between her and the bagpiper. It is abruptly terminated, however, by the arrival of Höel. Dinorah makes her escape by a window, and Höel relates to Corentin the story of the Korigans' treasure. As the first person who touches it will die, he determines that Corentin shall be his messenger, and to rouse his courage sends for wine. While Corentin is absent, Höel sings an aria ("Se per prender") which has always been a favorite with barytones. After Corentin returns, the tinkling of the goat's bell is heard. Dinorah appears in the distance, and a charming trio closes the act, to the accompaniment of the whistling wind and booming thunder on the contra basses and drums of the orchestra.

The second act opens with a drinking-song by wood-cutters, and as they withdraw, Dinorah enters, seeking Höel. She sings a tender lament, which, as the moonlight falls about her, develops into the famous "Shadow Song," a polka mazurka, which she sings and dances to her shadow. The aria, "Ombra leggier," is fairly lavish in its texture of vocal embroidery, and has always been a favorite number on the concert stage. The next scene changes to the Val Maudit (the Cursed Vale), a rocky, cavernous spot, through which rushes a raging torrent bridged by a fallen tree. Höel and Corentin appear in quest of the treasure, and the latter gives expression to his terror in a very characteristic manner, with the assistance of the orchestra. Dinorah is heard singing the legend of the treasure ("Chi primo al tesor"), from which Corentin learns that whoever touches it first will die. He refuses to go on, and a spirited duet ensues between them, which is interrupted by the entrance of Dinorah and her goat. Höel, fancying it is a spirit sent to keep him back, sings a very beautiful aria ("Le crede il padre"). The act closes with the fall of Dinorah, who attempts to cross the bridge, into the torrent, and her rescue by Höel, to the accompaniment of a storm set to music. The scene, though melodramatic, is very strong in its musical effects.

The last act opens with a scene in striking contrast, introduced with a quintet of horns, followed by a hunter's solo, a reaper's solo, a duet for shepherds; and a quartet in the finale. Höel arrives, bearing the rescued Dinorah, and sings to her an exquisite romance ("Sei vendicata assai"). The magic of his singing and her bath in the torrent restore her wandering senses. Höel persuades her that all which has transpired has been a dream. The old song of the Pardon of Ploermel comes to her, and as she tries to recall it the chorus takes it up ("Santa Maria! nostra donna") as it was heard in the overture. A procession is seen in the distance, and amid some exquisite pageant music Höel and Dinorah wend their way to the chapel, where the nuptial rites are supposed to be performed.

THE PROPHET.

"Le Prophète," an opera in five acts, words by Scribe, was first produced in Paris, April 16, 1849, with Mme. Viardot-Garcia as Fides, and M. Roger as John of Leyden. "The Prophet" was long and carefully elaborated by its composer. Thirteen years intervened between it and its predecessor, "The Huguenots;" but in spite of its elaboration it can only be said to excel the latter in pageantry and spectacular effect, while its musical text is more declamatory than melodious, as compared with "The Huguenots." In this sense it was disappointing when first produced.

The period of the opera is 1534. The first act transpires in Dordrecht and Leyden, in Holland, and the other three in Munster, Germany. The text closely follows the historical narrative of the period when Munster was occupied by John of Leyden and his fanatics, who, after he had been crowned by them as Emperor of Germany, was driven out by the bishop of the diocese. The first act opens in the suburbs of Dordrecht, near the Meuse, with the château of Count Oberthal, lord of the domain, in the distance. After a very fresh and vigorous chorus of peasants, Bertha, a vassal of the Count, betrothed to John of Leyden, enters and sings a cavatina ("Il cor nel sento"), in which she gives expression to emotions of delight at her approaching union. As she cannot go to Leyden, where the marriage is to take place, without the Count's consent, Fides, the mother of John, joins her to make the request. In the mean time the three Anabaptists, Zacarie, Gione, and Mathisen, leaders of the revolt in Westphalia, arrive on their mission of raising an insurrection in Holland, and in a sombre trio of a religious but stirring character ("O libertade") incite the peasants to rise against their rulers. They make an assault upon the castle of Count Oberthal, who speedily repels them, and turns the tide of popular feeling against the Anabaptists, by recognizing Gione as a former servant who had been discharged from his service for dishonesty. Fides and Bertha then join in a romanza ("Della mora un giorno"), imploring his permission for the marriage of Bertha and John. The Count, however, struck with her beauty, not only refuses, but claims her for himself, and seizes both her and Fides, and the act closes with a repetition of the warning chant of the Anabaptists.

The second act opens in the hostelry of John of Leyden, and is introduced with a waltz and drinking-chorus, in the midst of which the Anabaptists arrive and are struck with his resemblance to a portrait of David in the Munster Cathedral. From a very descriptive and highly wrought scena ("Sotto le vasti arcati") sung by him they also learn that he is given to visions and religious meditations. They assure him that he shall be a ruler; but in a beautiful romanza ("Un impero piu soave") he replies that his love for Bertha is his only sovereignty. Just as they depart, Bertha, who has escaped, rushes in and claims his protection. He conceals her; but has hardly done so when the Count enters with his soldiers, bringing Fides as a prisoner, and threatens to kill her unless Bertha is given up. He hesitates; but at last, to save his mother's life, delivers Bertha to her pursuers. Mother and son are left alone, and she seeks to console him. In this scene occurs one of the most dramatic and intense of Meyerbeer's arias ("O figlio mio, che diro"), known more popularly by its French words, beginning, "Ah! mon fils." It has enjoyed a world-wide popularity, and still holds its place in all its original freshness and vigor. Fides hardly disappears before the ominous chant of the Anabaptists is heard again. He does not need much persuasion now. They make their compact in a quartet of magnificent power, which closes the act; and some of John's garments are left behind stained with blood, that his mother may believe he has been killed.

The third act opens in the Anabaptists' camp in a Westphalian forest, a frozen lake near them, and Munster, which they are besieging, in the distance. In the second scene Zacarie sings a stirring pasan of victory ("In coppia son"), followed by the beautiful ballet music of the skaters as they come bringing provisions to the troops. Count Oberthal meanwhile has been taken prisoner and brought into camp. A buffo trio between himself and his captors follows, in which Gione penetrates his disguise and recognizes him. They are about to fall upon him; but John, learning from him that Bertha is still alive and in Munster, saves his life. He immediately resolves to take the place by assault, rouses his followers with religious chants of a martial character, and the act concludes with the march on the city.

The fourth act opens in the city itself after its capture. A mendicant appears in the public square begging for bread. It is Fides; and in a plaintively declamatory aria of striking power ("Pieta! pieta!") she implores alms. She meets with Bertha disguised as a pilgrim, and bent upon the destruction of the Prophet, who, she believes, has been the cause of John's death. The next scene opens in the cathedral, where the coronation of the Prophet is to take place; and among all Meyerbeer's pageants none are more imposing than this, with its accompaniment of pealing bells, religious chants, the strains of the organ, and the stately rhythms of the great Coronation March. It is a splendid prelude to the dramatic scene which follows. In the midst of the gorgeous spectacle, the voice of Fides is heard claiming the Prophet as her son. John boldly disavows her, and tells his followers to kill him if she does not confirm the disavowal. The feelings of the mother predominate, and she declares that she is mistaken. The multitude proclaim it a miracle, and Fides is removed as a prisoner. The dramatic situation in this finale is one of great strength, and its musical treatment has hardly been excelled.

The last act opens with a trio by the Anabaptist leaders, who, learning that the enemy is approaching in force, determine to save themselves by betraying John. In the third scene Fides in prison, learning that John is coming to see her, invokes the punishment of Heaven upon him in the passionate aria, "Spirto superno." A duet ("Tu che del cielo") of great power follows, in which Fides convinces him of the errors of his course. As they are about to leave, Bertha enters, bent upon the destruction of the palace, and in the trio which ensues learns that John and the Prophet are one. She stabs herself, and dying in the arms of Fides curses him. The last scene opens in a banqueting-hall of the palace, where John is revelling, with the Anabaptists around him. He sings a bacchanalian song of a wild description ("Beviam e intorno"), and, as it closes, the Bishop of Munster, the Elector, Count Oberthal, and the three Anabaptists who have betrayed him, enter the apartment. The revenge which John has planned is now consummated. An explosion is heard. Flames break out on all sides. Fides rushes in and forgives her son, and the Prophet, his mother, and his enemies perish together.

Although "The Prophet" did not meet with the popularity of some of his other operas, it contains some of the most vigorous and dramatic music Meyerbeer has written,—notably the arias of Zacarie and Fides, the skating-ballet, the Coronation March, and the drinking-song. As a pageant, "The Prophet" has never been surpassed.

THE AFRICAN.

"L'Africaine," a grand opera in five acts, words by Scribe, was first produced at the Académie, Paris, April 28, 1865, with the following cast:—

SELIKA Mme. MARIE SAXE.
INEZ Mlle. MARIE BATTEO.
VASCO DI GAMA M. NAUDIN.
NELUSKO M. FAURE.
DON PEDRO M. BELVAL.
HIGH PRIEST M. OBIN.

The libretto of the opera was first given to Meyerbeer by Scribe in 1838; but such were the alterations demanded by the composer, that at last Scribe withdrew it altogether, although the music was already set. In 1852 he furnished a revised libretto, and the music was revised to suit it. The work was not finished until 1860, and owing to the difficulty of filling the cast satisfactorily, was not brought to rehearsal until the fall of 1863. While still correcting and improving it, Meyerbeer died, and it was not produced until two years later. Shortly after the Paris performance it was brought out in London, with Mlle. Lucca in the part of Selika. Mme. Zucchi was one of the earliest representatives of the slave in this country.

The scene of the opera is laid in Portugal and Africa, and the first act opens in the council chamber of the king of the former country. Inez, his daughter, is mourning the long absence of her betrothed, Vasco di Gama the explorer. Her father, wishing to marry her to Don Pedro, the President of the Council, tries to persuade her that Vasco has perished by shipwreck; but the refutation of the story comes in the sudden appearance of Vasco himself, who is summoned before the Council and narrates to them his discovery of a strange land, producing two of the natives, Selika and Nelusko, as confirmations of his announcement. Don Pedro incites the inquisitors to deny the truth of the story, at which Vasco breaks out in such a furious rage against them that he is arrested and thrown into a dungeon. The second act opens in the prison, where Selika is watching the slumbering Vasco. As he wakens she declares her love for him, and at the same time saves him from the dagger of the jealous Nelusko. She also indicates to him the course he should have taken to discover the island of which he is in quest. To save her lover, Inez consents to wed Don Pedro; and the latter, to cheat Vasco of his fame, takes command of the expedition under the pilotage of Nelusko, and sets sail for the new land. The Indian, thirsting for vengeance, directs the vessel out of her course towards a reef; but Vasco, who has followed in another vessel, arrives in time to warn Don Pedro of his danger. He disregards the warning, distrusts his motives, and orders him to be shot; but before the sentence can be carried out, the vessel strikes and is boarded by the savages, who slaughter the commander and most of his men. The fourth act opens on the island which Selika pointed out on the map, and of which she is queen. To save him from her subjects, she declares herself his spouse; but as the marriage rite is about to be celebrated, Vasco hears the voice of Inez in the distance, deserts Selika, and flies to her. In the last act, as the vessel sails away bearing Vasco and Inez back to Portugal, Selika throws herself down under the poisonous manchineel-tree and kills herself with its fatal flowers; expiring in the arms of Nelusko, who shares the same fate.

The first act opens with a very sweet but sombre ballad sung by Inez ("Del Tago sponde addio"), which recalls the English song, "Isle of Beauty, fare thee well," and is followed by a bold and flowing terzetto. The third scene opens with a noble and stately chorus ("Tu che la terra adora") sung by the basses in unison, opening the Council before which Vasco appears; and the act closes with an anathema hurled at him ("Ribelle, insolente"),—a splendid ensemble, pronounced in its rhythm and majestic in the sweep of its passionate music.

The second act opens with the quaint slumber-song ("In grembo a me") which Selika sings to Vasco in prison. It is oriental in color, and is broken here and there by a barcarole which Vasco murmurs in his sleep. In striking contrast with its dreamy, quiet flow, it leads up to a passionate aria ("Tranquillo e già") based upon a strong and fiery motive. In the next scene follows an aria of equal vigor sung by Nelusko ("Figlia dei Re"), in which his devotion to Selika changing to his hatred of Vasco is characterized by a grand crescendo. The act closes with a vigorous sextet, the motive of which is strangely similar to the old song, "The Minstrel Boy."

The third act contains a very impressive number, Nelusko's invocation of Adamastor ("Adamastor, re dell' onde profondo"), but is mainly devoted to the ship scene, which, though grotesque from the dramatic point of view, is accompanied by music of a powerful and realistic description, written with all the vividness and force Meyerbeer always displays in his melodramatic ensembles. The fourth act contains the most beautiful music of the opera,—Vasco's opening aria, "O Paradiso," an exquisite melody set to an equally exquisite accompaniment; the ensemble in the fourth scene, in which Selika protects Vasco and Nelusko swears vengeance ("Al mio penar de fine"); the grand duet between Vasco and Selika ("Dove son"), which has often been compared to the duet in the fourth act of "The Huguenots," though it has not the passionate intensity of the scene between Raoul and Valentin; and the graceful choruses of the Indian maidens and Inez's attendants which close the act.

The last act contains two scenes,—the first in Selika's gardens, where there is a long and spirited duet between Inez and Selika. The second, known as "La Scene du Mancenillier," has a symphonic prelude in the form of a funeral march, based upon a fascinating melody, which is beyond question the finest of Meyerbeer's orchestral numbers in any of his works. From this point the story hastens to its tragic dénouement; and nearly the entire scene is occupied with Selika's dying song, which opens with a majestic apostrophe to the sea ("Da qui io vedo il mar"), then turns to sadness as she sings to the fatal tree ("O tempio sontuoso"), and at the close develops into a passionate outcry of joy ("O douce extase"). Though the plot of "L'Africaine" is often absurd, many of its incidents preposterous, and some of its characters unattractive, the opera is full of effective situations, and repeatedly illustrates Meyerbeer's powers of realization and his knowledge of effects.