Adolar, Count of Nevers,
HERR HAITZINGER.
Lysiart, a Nobleman,
HERR DOBLER.
Euryanthe,
MADAME SCHROEDER DEVRIENT.
Ludwig has appointed a fête to be celebrated for the return of one of his most gallant knights and accomplished troubadours, Adolar, who arrives, and, in a beautiful romance, sings his adventures in the war in which he has just been engaged for his royal master. He is crowned with laurels by the fairest ladies of the court. His happiness is almost complete, for he is on the point of seeing once more the object of his love, Euryanthe, the beautiful and accomplished Châtelaine of a wide domain, near Nevers. In his absence, another noble, Lysiart, has endeavoured to win the affections of Euryanthe; but finding, after repeated trials, that his attempts are useless, he resolves to blast her fame, and destroy the peace of mind of his favoured rival. In the presence of the king and his court, he tells Adolar that his mistress is inconstant. Adolar cannot believe it, and offers to defend, in single combat with the accuser, the innocence of Euryanthe. The challenge is accepted. In the mean time, Lysiart is sent by the king to the castle of Euryanthe, to conduct her to court, where, for the present, Adolar is tarrying. The traitor, in conjunction with Eglantine, an attendant of Euryanthe, gets possession of a ring given to the latter by Adolar, and with this proof, supported by the false evidence of Eglantine, convinces Adolar, the king, and the court, of Euryanthe’s infidelity. She is stripped of her possessions, and abandoned by Adolar. She is afterwards seen, in all the agony of wronged innocence, wandering alone in the woods. In heart-rending accents she sings her woes, and falling down exhausted, is found by a party of hunters, and conveyed to a place of safety. The last act opens with a view of Euryanthe’s castle, from which is seen issuing a gorgeous procession, going to celebrate Lysiart’s marriage with the perfidious Eglantine. Adolar having, however, now become convinced of the innocence of his mistress, and the treachery of Lysiart, breaks in on the pageant, accuses Lysiart, and forces him to draw and defend himself. Their swords are already crossed; when the king arrives and separates the combatants. Eglantine confesses her guilt, and accuses Lysiart of his crime. She is by him stabbed, and he then is dragged to meet his doom. At this juncture Euryanthe rushes in, Adolar receives her in his arms—the king proclaims her innocence—her possessions are restored to her—and she becomes the bride of him whom she long has loved.
The overture to this opera has abundance of both beauty and science to recommend it; its frequent performance at the Philharmonic Concerts has made it known to most connoisseurs in London, and we have more than once spoken of it. An extract from this was published in our work some few years ago, and in our early numbers will be found two of the most lovely airs in the opera, with English words adapted to them, as well as other pieces from the same.
Though Euryanthe is not so popularly formed as the Freischütz, it does not less show the hand of a great musician. There is not so much, by a great deal, in it that at once commands attention and admiration, but a closer acquaintance with it developes beauties that are not so obvious on a first or second trial. Neither the Freischütz nor the present work were produced without great labour, but this is more apparent in the latter than in the former. In the one, genius and skill are combined in nearly equal proportions; in the other, there is more of skill than genius; though the invention displayed in Euryanthe would be enough to confer a great name on any composer of any country. Let us, however, repeat, that our judgment, in the case of the opera now under notice, is formed from a knowledge of an adaptation—of what is called the vocal score—only.