THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.
(Last Week of Opera.)
Monday.—Hamlet. Music by AMBROISE THOMAS, and libretto by Messieurs CARRÉ and BARBIER, who seem to have read Hamlet once through, after which they wrote down as a libretto what they remembered, of the story. It would be difficult to mention any Opera less dramatic than this. The question arises at once, adapting the immortal phrase of JAMES LE SIFFLEUR, "Why lug in Hamlet?" Why not have called it Ophelia? Whatever interest there may be in the Opera—and there is very little—is centred entirely in Ophelia. The Ghost is utterly purposeless, but of distinguished appearance as a robust spectre, marching in at one gate, and out at another, or hiding behind a sofa, and popping up suddenly, in order to frighten an equally purposeless Hamlet. Like father, like son. M. LASSALLE is a fine, substantial, baritonial Hamlet, who is always posturing, weeping, calling out ma mère, and blubbering on the ample matronly bosom of his mother, Madame RICHARD ("O RICHARD! O ma Reine!") like a big, blubbering, overgrown schoolboy. Were I inclined to disquisitionise, I should say that Messieurs CARRÉ and BARBIER have actually realised SHAKSPEARE's own description of his jelly-fleshed hero, whose mind is as shaky as his well-covered body. Hamlet was—as SHAKSPEARE took care to emphasise—"fat, and scant of breath"—which was the physical description of the actor who first impersonated the leading rôle of this play; and the French author's idea of Hamlet was, accordingly, a fat youth, very much out of condition, home from Wittenberg College, in consequence of his father's recent decease.
Some of the lighter musical portions of the Opera are charming, and the Chorus at the end of Act I, might have been written by OFFENBACH. But what is there of the story? Nothing. The King is not killed: the Queen isn't poisoned: Polonius is not stabbed behind the arras, having been, perhaps, killed before the Opera commenced, since his name appears in the book but not in the programme, and the only person on the stage that I could possibly associate with that dear old Lord Chamberlain was M. MIRANDA, who had donned a white beard and a different robe from what he had been previously wearing as Horatio in the First and Second Acts, in order to enter and lead the King away, in an interpolated and ineffective scene which was not in the book. A very hard-working Opera for the principals, and a thankless task. Hamlet's drinking song fine, and finely sung. But the whole point of the Opera is in the last Act, where there is a ballet that has nothing to do with the piece, but pretty to see little PALLADINO in short white skirts, dancing merrily in a forest glade, among the happy peasantry, to whom comes Ophelia, mad as several hatters, and after a lunatic scene, charming, both musically and dramatically, throws herself into the water, and dies singing.
Here is a suggestion for the effective compression and reduction of the Opera, and if my plan be accepted, DRURIOLANUS will earn the eternal gratitude of those who would like to hear all that is good in it, and to skip, as PALLADINO does, the rest. Thus:—
ACT I.—Enter HAMLET. Solo. Exit. Enter OPHELIA. Solo. Re-enter HAMLET. OPHELIA and HAMLET love-duet. Exit OPHELIA. HAMLET'S Friends come in, and he sings them a Drinking Song with Chorus. All join in Chorus and Dance. Curtain.
ACT II.—Opening Chorus (anything; it doesn't matter if it's only pretty and bright). Enter HAMLET. Solo. "Être, ou ne pas être." Enter OPHELIA with book, pretends not to see HAMLET. Solo. Enter Queen. OPHELIA complains to her that HAMLET isn't behaving like a gentleman. Queen upbraids HAMLET: So does OPHELIA: HAMLET depressed, Exit Queen R.H. Exit OPHELIA L.H. HAMLET remains, evidently going mad. PALLADINO looks in. Dances. HAMLET joins her. Enter Friends, Courtiers, Peasants, and other Friends. All join in ballet, HAMLET included. Enter Keepers, and HAMLET is taken off to Hanwellhagen. OPHELIA rushes in, faints. Curtain.
ACT III.—Meadows near Hanwellhagen, in Denmark. Dance of Lunatics, out for a holiday. To them enter OPHELIA. All the charming music, delightful, and, this being finished, she chucks herself away into the stream. Curtain.
Great call for everybody concerned. And, if the above scheme be adopted, the Opera would be over before eleven, having begun at nine. I present this with my compliments to DRURIOLANUS and AMBROISE THOMAS; and, if he is not "a doubting THOMAS," he will try this plan.
The remainder of the week passed away happily, so I hear, but was not able to be in my place, as I was at somebody else's place far, far away. The Opera has been, from the first, a big success. Should like to hear Masaniello once again. Perhaps that is a treat in store for all of us. Thus ends the Opera-goer's Diary for 1890, and everybody is highly satisfied and delighted. Curtain.