Our Italian gentlemen discussed this idea over and over again, and some efforts were made to carry it out. One of these gentlemen, named Caccini, wrote a series of songs or "pieces," which he sang at Bardi's house one evening, accompanying himself on the lute. He had a beautiful voice, and every one was delighted.

Little by little the idea of a musical drama gathered strength, and one of the first performances we read of was at Mantua, in 1594, when a curious sort of work called L'Amfiparnasso was given. We who have seen opera in its perfection would be, I am sure, highly amused could we hear L'Amfiparnasso given just as it was then.

There were five voices, no overture, and no instrumental accompaniment of any kind. But when two singers were on the stage, the remaining three stood behind the scenes singing a sort of accompaniment. Everybody in Mantua was delighted, and L'Amfiparnasso was a great success.

What would dear old Master Vecchio, who wrote it, have said had he looked ahead nearly three hundred years, and seen the great Bayreuth Festival, where Wagner's operas were produced with such a wealth of orchestra and voices?

I think it safe to say that the first true Italian opera, on which all others have been founded, was Euridice, by Peri, and this was produced in 1600, when Henry IV. married Mary of Medicis. Several noblemen performed in it. Behind the scenes they had a sort of orchestra: a harpsichord, a chitarone,[1] a sort of viol, and a large lute. Three flutes were added to this little orchestra. I have just been reading part of the score, and it has much delicacy and spirit.

I have not space to tell you of the progress of the opera in Italy and Germany and France, but it advanced steadily, and in France, where a composer named Lulli lived in 1650, it reached a great height. Lulli had been brought from Florence as a page at the court of Louis XIV. He served the King's niece, Mademoiselle De Montpensier, and no doubt heard all the finest music in her boudoir. He it was who established the opera in France.

Among Italian composers of this early period, the man who seems to me most interesting was Alessandro Scarlatti. He made many improvements in the form of the opera, varying its monotony in very original ways.

Another famous Italian of the same period was Stradella, whose church music we hear now much more than formerly. Poor Stradella's life was a terribly sad one. He was a gentleman of great refinement, but he was not of the highest rank, so that when he fell in love with one of his pupils, whose rank was above his, there was a great deal of excitement over it in Venice. Stradella married his fair pupil, and for some years led a life of terror, as assassins pursued him. Once, we are told, three of these men, hired to kill him, followed him to the Church of St. John, in Rome, where he was to sing, and there, listening to his heavenly voice, their purpose changed. His music took away all their blood-thirsty feelings. But he was not destined to escape the vengeance of his wife's friends. In Genoa, after repeated attempts on Stradella's life, he and his wife were both cruelly stabbed to death, the assassins escaping. Stradella was only in his thirtieth year, but he had written some of the finest music in Italy.

I could tell you much of the rise and progress of opera in England, but in our short space must group a few facts about some one centre. The English seemed from very early times to delight in combining music with dialogue. They used, as I have said, to give performances in the public streets. The singers stood in large carts, around which crowds of people collected. With all their grotesqueness and absurdity there was a dignity about them which impressed their rude audiences.