The second act opens with a stately march and chorus by the priests, leading up to Sarastro's first great aria ("O Isis und Osiris"), a superb invocation in broad, flowing harmony, and the scene closes with a strong duet by two priests ("Bewahret euch vor Weibertuecken.") The third scene is a quintet for Papageno, Tamino, and the Queen's three attendants ("Wie ihr an diesem Shreckensort?"), and is followed by a sentimental aria by Monostatos ("Alles fuehlt der Liebe Freuden"). In the next scene occurs the second and greatest aria of the Queen of Night ("Der Hoelle Rache kocht"), which was specially written to show off the bravura ability of the creator of the part, and has been the despair of nearly all sopranos since her time. In striking contrast with it comes the majestic aria for Sarastro in the next scene ("In diesen heil'gen Hallen"), familiarly known on the concert-stage by its English title, "In these sacred Halls," the successful performance of which may well be the height of any basso's ambition. In the twelfth scene there is a terzetto by the three boys ("Seid uns zum zweitenmal"), and in the next scene a long and florid aria for Pamina ("Ach! ich fuehl's es ist verschwunden"), full of plaintive chords and very sombre in color. The sixteenth scene contains another stately chorus of priests ("O Isis und Osiris"), based upon a broad and massive harmony, which is followed by a terzetto between Sarastro, Pamina, and Tamino ("Soll ich dich, Theurer nicht mehr sehen?"). Once more a concession to the buffoon occurs in a melody "Ein Maedchen oder Weibchen," which would be commonplace but for Mozart's treatment of the simple air. The finale begins with another terzetto for the three boys ("Bald prangt, den Morgen zu verkuenden"). It may be termed a finale of surprises, as it contains two numbers which are as far apart in character as the poles,—the first, an old choral melody ("Der, welcher wandelt diese Strasse"), the original being, "Christ, our Lord, to Jordan came," set to an accompaniment, strengthened by the trombones and other wind instruments; and the second, a nonsense duet ("Pa-pa-Papageno") for Papageno and Papagena, which would close the opera in a burst of childish hilarity but for the solemn concluding chorus of the priests ("Heil sei euch Geweithen").

The great charm of the opera is its originality, and the wonderful freshness and fruitfulness of the composer in giving independent and characteristic melodies to every character, as well as the marvellous combination of technicality with absolute melody. Beethoven said of it that this was Mozart's one German opera in right of the style and solidity of its music. Jahn, in his criticism, says: "'The Zauberfloete' has a special and most important position among Mozart's operas. The whole musical conception is pure German, and here for the first time German opera makes free and skilful use of all the elements of finished art."



ROSSINI.

Gioachini Antonio Rossini was born at Pesaro, Italy, Feb. 29, 1792. His early lessons in music were taken with Tesei, and as a lad he also appeared upon the stage as a singer. In 1807 he was admitted to the class of Padre Mattei at the Bologna Conservatory, where he took a prize for a cantata at the end of his first year. At the beginning of his career in Italy he was commissioned to write an opera for Venice. It was "La Cambiale di Matrimonio," an opera buffa in one act, and was produced in 1810. During the next three years he wrote several works for Venice and Milan, which were successful, but none of them created such a furor as "Tancredi." This was followed by "L' Italiana in Algeri," "Aureliano in Palmira," and "Il Turco in Italia." In 1815 appeared "The Barber of Seville." Strange as it may seem, it was at first condemned, not on its merits, but because the composer had trenched, as it was supposed, upon the ground already occupied by the favorite Paisiello, though he applied to the latter before writing it, and received his assurances that he had no objection to his use of the same subject. "Otello" followed the "Barber" at Naples in 1816, and "Cenerentola" in 1817, and both were extraordinarily successful. The "Gazza Ladra" was produced at Milan in 1817, and was followed by "Armida" at Naples in the same year. His next great work was the oratorio, "Moses in Egypt," which is also given as opera. The "Donna del Lago," based upon Walter Scott's "Lady of the Lake," was produced at Naples in 1819. The same year he opened the Carnival in Milan with "Bianca e Faliero," and before its close he produced "Maometto secondo" at Naples. During the next two or three years his muse was very prolific, and in 1823 appeared another of his great works, "Semiramide," which made a furor at Venice. That year he went to London and gave concerts, in which he sang, and thence to Paris, which now became his home. His greatest work for Paris was "William Tell," which was produced in 1829, and it was also his last, though by an arrangement with the Government of Charles X. it was to be the first of a series of five. The revolution of 1830 destroyed his plans. In 1836 he heard Meyerbeer's "Huguenots," and resolved to write no more. Four years before this he had written the "Stabat Mater," but it was not produced complete until 1842. From this time on he lived at his villa at Passy the life of a voluptuary and died there Nov. 13, 1868. The catalogue of his works is immense, including fifty operas alone, of which in a necessarily brief sketch it has been possible to mention only those best known.

THE BARBER OF SEVILLE.

"Il Barbiere di Siviglia," an opera buffa in two acts, words by Sterbini, founded on Beaumarchais's comedy, was first produced at the Argentina Theatre, Rome, Feb. 5, 1816, with the following cast:—

ROSINA Mme. GIORGI RIGHETTI. BERTAO Mlle. ROSSI. FIGARO Sig. LUIGI ZAMBONI. COUNT ALMAVIVA Sig. GARCIA. BARTOLO Sig. BOTTICELLI. BASILIO Sig. VITTARELLI.

The story of the writing of "The Barber of Seville" is of more than ordinary interest. Rossini had engaged to write two operas for the Roman Carnival of 1816. The first was brought out Dec. 26, 1815, and the same day he bound himself to furnish the second by Jan. 20, 1816, with no knowledge of what the libretto would be. Sterbini furnished him with the story of the "Barber" by piecemeal, and as fast as the verses were given him he wrote the music. The whole work was finished in less than three weeks. Its original title was "Almaviva, ossia l'inutile precauzione," to distinguish it from Paisiello's "Barber of Seville." The original overture was lost in some manner, and that of "Aureliano" substituted. In the scene beneath Rosina's balcony Garcia introduced a Spanish air of his own; but it failed, and before the second performance Rossini wrote the beautiful cavatina, "Ecco ridente il cielo" in its place, the melody borrowed from the opening chorus of his "Aureliano," and that in turn from his "Ciro in Babilonia." The subject of the effective trio, "Zitti, zitti," was taken from Haydn's "Seasons," and the aria sung by the duenna Berta ("Il vechiotto cerca moglie"), from a Russian melody he had heard a lady sing in Rome and introduced for her sake. For the music-lesson scene Rossini wrote a trio which has been lost; and thus an opportunity has been given Rosinas to interpolate what they please.

The scene of the opera is laid at Seville, Spain. Count Almaviva has fallen in love with Rosina, the ward of Dr. Bartolo, with whom she resides, and who wishes to marry her himself. After serenading his mistress, who knows him only by the name of Count Lindoro, he prevails upon Figaro, the factotum of the place, to bring about an interview with her. In spite of her guardian's watchfulness, as well as that of Don Basilio, her music-teacher, who is helping Bartolo in his schemes, she informs the Count by letter that she returns his passion. With Figaro's help he succeeds in gaining admission to the house disguised as a drunken dragoon, but this stratagem is foiled by the entrance of the guard, who arrest him. A second time he secures admission, disguised as a music-teacher, and pretending that he has been sent by Don Basilio, who is ill, to take his place. To get into Bartolo's confidence he produces Rosina's letter to himself, and promises to persuade her that the letter has been given him by a mistress of the Count, and thus break off the connection between the two. By this means he secures the desired interview, and an elopement and private marriage are planned. In the midst of the arrangements, however, Don Basilio puts in an appearance, and the disconcerted lover makes good his escape. Meanwhile Bartolo, who has Rosina's letter, succeeds in arousing the jealousy of his ward with it, who thereupon discloses the proposed elopement and promises to marry her guardian. At the time set for the elopement the Count and Figaro appear. A reconciliation is easily effected, a notary is at hand, and they are married just as Bartolo makes his appearance with officers to arrest the Count. Mutual explanations occur, however, and all ends happily.

The first act opens after a short chorus, with the serenade, "Ecco ridente in cielo," the most beautiful song in the opera. It begins with a sweet and expressive largo and concludes with a florid allegro, and is followed by a chorus in which the serenaders are dismissed. In the second scene Figaro enters, and after some brief recitatives sings the celebrated buffo aria, "Largo al factotum," in which he gives an account of his numerous avocations. The aria is full of life and gayety, and wonderfully adapted to the style of the mercurial Figaro.

A light and lively duet between Figaro and the Count, closing with the sprightly melody, "Ah! che d'amore," leads up to the chamber aria of Rosina, so well known on the concert-stage, "Una voce poco fa," which is not only very expressive and of great compass, but is remarkably rich in ornamentation. A short dialogue in recitative then occurs between Bartolo and Basilio, in which they plot to circumvent Rosina by calumny, which gives occasion for the Calumny aria, as it is generally known ("La calunnia"), a very sonorous bass solo, sung by Basilio. Another dialogue follows between Figaro and Rosina, leading to the florid duet, "E il maestro io faccio." A third dialogue follows between Rosina and Bartolo, ending in a bass aria ("Non piu tacete"), very similar in its general style to the Calumny song, but usually omitted in performances. In the tenth scene the Count arrives disguised as the drunken soldier, and the finale begins. It is composed of three scenes very ingeniously arranged, and full of glittering dialogue and very melodious passages.

The second act opens with a soliloquy by Bartolo ("Ma redi il mio destino"), in which he gives vent to his suspicions. It is interrupted at last by a duet with the Count, in which the two characters are strikingly set off by the music. The music-lesson scene follows, in which the artist personating Rosina is given an opportunity for interpolation. In the next scene occurs a dialogue quintet, which is followed by a long aria ("Sempre gridi") by the duenna Bertha, called by the Italians the "Aria de Sorbetto," because the people used to eat ices while it was sung; reminding one of the great aria from "Tancredi," "Di tanti palpiti," which they called the "aria dei rizzi," because Rossini composed it while cooking his rice. In the eighth scene, after a long recitative, an instrumental prelude occurs, representing a stormy night, followed by a recitative in which the Count reveals himself, leading up to a florid trio, and this in turn to the elegant terzetto, "Zitti, zitti." A bravura and finale of light and graceful melody close the opera.

SEMIRAMIDE

"Semiramide" a lyric tragedy in two acts, words by Gaetano Rossi, the subject taken from Voltaire's "Semiramis," was first produced at the Fenice, Venice, Feb. 3, 1823, with the following cast:—

SEMIRAMIDE Mme. ROSSINI-COLBRAN. ARSACES Mme. MARIANI. IDRENO Mr. SINCLAIR. ASSUR Sig. GALLI. OROE Sig. MARIANI.

On the 9th of July it was produced in French at the Academie, Paris, as "Semiramis," with Carlotta Marchisio as Semiramide, Barbara, her sister, as Arsaces, and M. Obin as Assur. At Rossini's request M. Carafa arranged the recitatives and wrote the ballet music. "Semiramide" was the last opera Rossini wrote for Italy; and so far did he depart from the conventional Italian style, that he was charged with imitating the German. It was probably for this reason that the opera when first performed did not meet with a kindly reception from the Venetians. Although he was occupied six months in negotiating for his stipulated price (one thousand dollars), he wrote the opera in three weeks. Of its first performance, a correspondent of the "Harmonicon," who was present, writes: "The first act, which lasted two hours and fifteen minutes, was received very coldly, with the exception of one passage in the overture, which overture, however, was unconscionably long. The second act, which lasted two hours and a half, began to please in an air of Mariani, but the applause was rather directed to this favorite singer. After this a duet between her and Colbran, together with an air of Galli, and particularly a terzetto between him and the two ladies, were well received. Rossini was also called for at the end of the second act. It is all over with Madame, his own wife" (Mme. Colbran), who took the title-role.

The scene of the opera is laid in Babylon, and the story briefly told is as follows: Ninus, the King of Babylon, has been murdered by his Queen, Semiramis, aided by Assur, a prince enamoured of her and aspiring to the throne. One of the Queen's warriors, Arsaces, supposed to be of Scythian origin, but in reality her own son, returns from a foreign expedition and is loaded with honors for the victory he has won. Semiramis, ignorant of his parentage, has a secret passion for him, he in the mean time being devoted to Azema, one of the princesses royal. As all gather together in the temple to swear allegiance to the Queen, the gates of Ninus's tomb suddenly open, and his ghost appears and announces that Arsaces will be the successor to the crown. At midnight Semiramis, Assur, and Arsaces meet at the tomb, and by mistake Assur stabs her instead of Arsaces, who in turn kills Assur, and, all obstacles being removed, is united to Azema and ascends the throne.

An introductory chorus of Babylonians and a terzetto by Idreno, Assur, and Oroe open the opera and lead up to the first appearance of Semiramis, which is followed by a very dramatic quartet ("Di tanti regi"). In the fourth scene Arsaces has a very brilliant aria ("O! come da quel di"), which also did service in one or two of Rossini's other operas, and is followed by a very animated duet ("Bella imago degli dei") between himself and Assur. The eighth scene is introduced by a graceful female chorus which leads to Semiramis's brilliant and well-known aria, "Bel raggio." In the tenth scene occurs an elegant duet ("Serbami agnor si fido"), followed in the next scene by a stately priests' march and chorus ("Ergi omai la fronte altera"), set to ecclesiastical harmony and accompanied by full military band as well as orchestra, this being the first instance where a military band was used in Italian opera. It leads to the finale, where Semiramis on her throne announces to her people her choice for their future king. The oath of allegiance follows in an impressive quartet with chorus ("Giuro al numi"), and a defiant aria by the Queen leads to the sudden appearance of the ghost of Ninus, accompanied by characteristic music repeated in quintet with chorus. As the ghost speaks, the statue scene in Don Giovanni is inevitably recalled, especially in some phrases which are literally copied.

The second act opens with a vindictively passionate duet ("Assur, icenni mici") between Assur and Semiramis, closing with a fierce outburst of hatred ("La forza primiera"). The scene is a very long and spirited one, and is followed by a second chorus of priests, leading to a great aria with chorus ("Ah! tu gelar mi fai") for Arsaces. In the fifth scene occurs a long duet between Arsaces and Semiramis, the second part of which ("Giorno d'orrore") is the strongest number in the opera. Though intensely passionate in its tone, the music is smooth and flowing and very florid for both voices. The seventh scene is composed of a scena, aria and chorus, followed by still another chorus in the mausoleum. Semiramis sings a prayer of great pathos and beauty ("Ah mio pregar"). A terzetto ("L'usato ardir"), which like the mausoleum chorus is based upon an aria from Mozart's "Cosi fan tutti," closes the opera. "The Harmonicon," to which reference has already been made, in an analysis of the work, has the following apt criticism: "It has been said, and truly, that 'Semiramide' is composed in the German style, but it is the German style exaggerated. Rossini is become a convert to this school, and his conversion does his judgment credit, though like all proselytes he passes into extremes. Not satisfied with discarding the meagre accompaniments of the Italian composers, he even goes far beyond the tramontane masters in the multitude and use of instruments, and frequently smothers his concerted pieces and choruses by the overwhelming weight of his orchestra." But what would the "Harmonicon" have said, had it had Wagner's instrumentation before it?

WILLIAM TELL

"William Tell," an opera in three acts, words by Etienne Jouy and Hippolyte Bis, the subject taken from Schiller's drama of the same name, was first produced at the Academie, Paris, Aug. 3, 1829, with the following cast:—

MATHILDE Mme. DAMOREAU-CINTI. JEMMY Mme. DABODIE. HEDWIG Mlle. MORI. ARNOLD M. NOURRIT. WALTER M. LEVASSEUR. TELL M. DABODIE. RUODI M. DUPONT. RODOLPHE M. MASSOL. GESSLER M. PREVOST. LEUTOLD M. PREVOT.

Rossini wrote for Paris only two new operas, "Le Comte Ory" and "William Tell,"—the latter his masterpiece in the serious style. The libretto was first prepared by M. Jouy, but it was so bad that M. Bis was called in, and to him is due the whole of the second act. Even after the two authors had changed and revised it, Rossini had to alter it in many places. When it was first performed the weakness of the drama was at once recognized, though its music was warmly welcomed, especially by the critical. It was represented fifty-six times in its original form, and was then cut down to three acts, the original third act being omitted and the fourth and fifth condensed into one. For three years after this time the second act was alone performed in Paris; but when M. Duprez made his debut in the part of Arnold, a fresh enthusiasm was aroused, and there was a genuine Tell revival.

The scene of the opera is laid in Switzerland, period the thirteenth century, and the action closely follows the historical narrative. The disaffection which has arisen among the Swiss, owing to the tyranny of Gessler, suddenly comes to a climax when one of Gessler's followers attempts an outrage upon the only daughter of the herdsman Leutold, and meets his death at the hands of the indignant father. Leutold seeks protection at the hands of Tell, who, in the face of the herdsman's pursuers, succeeds in placing him beyond the reach of danger, and this circumstance arouses the wrath of Gessler. Melchtal, the village patriarch, is accused by him of inciting the people to insubordination, and is put to death. Meanwhile Arnold, his son, is enamoured of Mathilde, Gessler's daughter, and hesitates between love and duty when he is called upon to avenge his father's death. At last duty prevails, and he joins his comrades when the men of the three cantons, who are loyal to Tell, meet and swear death to the tyrant. In the last act occurs the famous archery scene. To discover the leading offenders Gessler erects a pole in the square of Altorf, upon which he places his hat and commands the people to do homage to it. Tell refuses, and as a punishment is ordered to shoot an apple from his son's head. He successfully accomplishes the feat, but as he is about to retire Gessler observes a second arrow concealed in his garments, and inquires the reason for it, when Tell boldly replies it was intended for him in case the first had killed his son. Gessler throws him into prison, whereupon Mathilde abandons her father and determines to help in the rescue of Tell and his son. Her lover, Arnold, meanwhile, raises a band of brave followers and accomplishes the rescue himself. After slaying the tyrant and freeing his country Tell returns to his family, and Arnold and Mathilde are united.

The overture to "William Tell," with its Alpine repose, its great storm-picture, the stirring "Ranz des Vaches," and the trumpet-call to freedom, is one of the most perfect and beautiful ever written, and is so familiar that it does not need analysis. The first act opens with a delightfully fresh Alpine chorus ("E il ciel sereno"), which is followed by a pastoral quartet between a fisherman, Tell, Hedwig, and Jemmy. Arnold enters, and a long duet, one of Rossini's finest inspirations, follows between Arnold and Tell. The duet is interrupted by the entrance of several of the peasants escorting two brides and bridegrooms, which is the signal for a most graceful chorus and dance ("Cinto il crine"). Leutold then appears, seeking Tell's protection, and a very dramatic finale begins, closing with the arrest of Melchtal, which leads to an ensemble of great power.

The second act opens with a double chorus of huntsmen and shepherds ("Qual silvestre metro intorne"), which is followed by a scena preluding a charming romanza ("Selva opaco") sung by Mathilde. Its mild, quiet beauty is in strange contrast with the remainder of this great act. It is followed by a passionate duet with Arnold, a second and still more passionate duet between Tell and Walter, which leads to the magnificent trio of the oath ("La gloria inflammi"), and this in turn is followed by the splendid scene of the gathering of the cantons. For melodic and harmonic beauty combined, the spirited treatment of masses, and charm and variety of color, this great scene stands almost alone.

The last act opens with a duet between Mathilde and Arnold, which is followed in the next scene by a march and chorus as the multitude gathers in the square of Altorf, closing with a lovely Tyrolean chorus sung by the sopranos and accompanied with the dance. The dramatic scene of the archery follows, and then Arnold has a very passionate aria ("O muto asil"). Some very vivid storm-music preluding the last scene, and the final hymn of freedom ("I boschi, i monti") close an opera which is unquestionably Rossini's masterpiece, and in which his musical ability reached its highest expression. "Manly, earnest, and mighty," Hanslick calls it; and the same authority claims that the first and second acts belong to the most beautiful achievements of the modern opera.



RUBINSTEIN.

Anton Gregor Rubinstein was born Nov. 30, 1829, at Weghwotynez in Russia. His mother gave him lessons at the age of four, with the result that by the time he was six she was unable to teach him anything more. He then studied the piano with Alexander Villoing, a pupil of John Field. In 1840 he entered the Paris Conservatory, where he attracted the attention of Liszt, Chopin, and Thalberg. He remained in that city eighteen months, and then made some professional tours, in which he met with extraordinary success. In 1844 his parents removed to Berlin, and he was placed under Dehn, the famous contrapuntist, to study composition. From 1846 to 1848 he taught music in Pressburg and Vienna, and then went back to Russia. For eight years he studied and wrote in St. Petersburg, and at the end of that time had accumulated a mass of manuscripts destined to make his name famous all over Europe, while his reputation as a skilful pianist was already world-wide. He visited England again in 1857, and the next year returned home and settled in St. Petersburg, about which time he was made Imperial Concert Director, with a life-pension. At this period in his career he devoted himself to the cause of music in Russia. His first great work was the foundation of the Conservatory in the above city in 1862, of which he remained principal until 1867. He also founded the Russian Musical Society in 1861, and in 1869 was decorated by the Czar. In 1870 he directed the Philharmonic and Choral Societies of Vienna, and shortly afterwards made another tour, during which, in 1872, he came to this country with the eminent violinist, Wieniawsky, as will be well remembered. His greatest works are the "Ocean Symphony," "Dramatic Symphony," and a character sketch for grand orchestra called "Ivan the Terrible;" his operas, "Children of the Heath," "Feramors," "Nero," "The Maccabees," "Dimitri Donskoi," and the "Demon;" the oratorios "Paradise Lost," and "Tower of Babel," and a long and splendid catalogue of chamber, salon, and concert music, besides some beautiful songs, which are great favorites in the concert-room.

NERO.

The opera of "Nero," the libretto by Jules Barbier, was first produced in Hamburg in 1879,—though it was originally intended for the French stage,—and in this country, March 14, 1887, at New York, by the American Opera Company, under the direction of Mr. Theodore Thomas, with the following cast:—

NERO Mr. CANDIDUS. JULIUS VINDEX Mr. LUDWIG. TIGELLINUS Mr. STODDARD. BALBILLUS Mr. WHITNEY. SACCUS Mr. FESSENDEN. SEVIRUS Mr. HAMILTON. TERPANDER Mr. LEE. POPPOEA SABINA Miss BERTHA PIERSON. EPICHARIS Miss CORNELIA VAN ZANTEN. CHRYSA Miss EMMA JUCH. AGRIPPINA Miss AGNES STERLING. LUPUS Miss PAULINE L'ALLEMAND.

The first act opens in the house of Epicharis, a courtesan, which is a rendezvous for the dissolute Roman nobles. The guests assembled sing a chorus in praise of the establishment, followed by a scene in which Vindex, the prince of Aquitania, Saccus the poet, Terpander the citharist, and others conspire against Nero. Suddenly Chrysa, daughter of Epicharis, who is ignorant of her mother's real character and dwells apart from her, rushes in and implores the protection of Vindex from a crowd of revellers who have pursued her. A very spirited duet follows in which the prince promises her his assistance. Upon hearing the shouts of her pursuers he conceals her just in time to escape the masked band, headed by Nero himself, which bursts into the apartment. The tyrant demands the girl; and as he throws off his mask the guests stand amazed. Saccus at last breaks the spell by the suggestion that Nero shall marry the girl. When she is led out, and Vindex discovers that Epicharis is her mother, he no longer espouses her cause. Then follows the music of the mock marriage, interspersed with dance strains and sardonic choruses by the courtesans and their associates, at last rising to a wild bacchanalian frenzy, in the midst of which Vindex breaks out in a spirited song, with harp accompaniment, and finally hurls invectives at Nero, as Chrysa, who has drunk a narcotic at her mother's order, falls senseless. The latter declares she has been poisoned, and the act closes with a scene of great power in which Vindex is hurried away as Nero's prisoner.

The second act opens in the dwelling of Poppoea, Nero's mistress, whose attendants are trying to console her. She has heard of Nero's new infatuation; but her apprehensions are relieved when Balbillus, the astrologer, enters and not only announces that Chrysa is dead, but tells the equally grateful news that Octavia, Nero's wife, has been condemned to die. Nero himself now appears upon the scene, and a duet follows in which Poppoea reproaches him for his fickleness and he seeks to console her with flattery. At its close the death of Octavia is announced, and Poppoea is appeased by the prospect of sharing the throne. Meanwhile Chrysa has fallen into the custody of Agrippina, Nero's mother, who keeps close charge of her to further her own ambitions. During the interview between the tyrant and his mistress, Epicharis rushes in and implores Nero to give up Chrysa, which leads to a powerful ensemble. Learning that Chrysa is still alive he leaves the apartment to find her. The second scene is brilliantly spectacular. Nero and his mother appear in front of the temple, followed by a long procession to the music of a brilliant march. They enter the temple. After a short episode, in which Poppoea informs Epicharis of the refuge Chrysa has found, the ballet is given in the open square, with its fascinating dances of warriors, bacchantes, jugglers and buffoons, and their mimic combats, the music of which is very familiar from its frequent performance in our concert-rooms. Nero then appears and announces his divinity in a finale, which is rich with scenic, spectacular, and choral effects, accompanied by full military band and orchestra.

The third act opens in Chrysa's new asylum of refuge. The persecuted girl sings a beautiful prayer, at the close of which Vindex joins her in a love-duet, which will always remain as one of the most refined and noble products of Rubinstein's skill in harmony. The next number is one of almost equal beauty,—a duet for Chrysa and Epicharis, the motive of which is a cradle song. Its soothing tones are interrupted by the appearance of Nero, followed by Poppoea and Saccus, the last-named announcing to the tyrant that Rome is in flames, which leads up to a vigorous trio. The concluding scene is full of characteristic music. It shows us Nero watching the fire from his tower, while he sings a hymn ("O Ilion") to the accompaniment of his lyre; the death of Chrysa, who proclaims herself a Christian and is killed by the infuriated populace; and the fate of Epicharis, who is crushed beneath a falling house as she mourns for her daughter.

The fourth act furnishes a dramatic denouement to the mournful story. The tyrant, wild with rage and frenzy, appears in the tomb of Augustus, where the shades of his murdered victims terrify him. Saccus enters and tells him of the revolt of his army and the danger which threatens him. He rushes out again and kills himself on the highway of the Campagna, just as Vindex at the head of his legions comes up with him. As he expires a cross appears in the sky and a chant is heard, herald of the coming Christianity.



THOMAS.

Charles Ambroise Thomas was born at Metz, Aug. 5, 1811, and entered the Paris Conservatory in 1828, where he carried off the Grand Prize in 1832, which entitled him to go to Italy. During his Italian residence he wrote a cantata, "Hermann und Ketty," and several instrumental works. His first work at the Opera Comique was the one-act opera, "La double echelle," produced in 1837 with success. He then brought out several ballets at the Academie, but returned to the Opera Comique again, where, between 1840 and 1866, he composed thirteen operas, the most successful of which were "Le Songe d'une nuit d'ete" (1850), "Raymond" (1851), "Psyche" (1857), and "Mignon" (1866). During this period he also wrote a large number of cantatas, choruses, part-songs, and instrumental works. His next great work was "Hamlet," first produced March 9, 1868, the success of which gained him the position of Director of the Conservatory in 1871. Since that time he has written only the opera "Francoise de Rimini," performed April 14, 1882. In 1880 he was made a member of the Legion of Honor. In common with Gounod he now shares the honor of being one of the few French writers who hold a high rank among modern composers.

MIGNON

"Mignon," an opera comique in three acts, words by Barbier and Carre, the subject taken from Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister," was first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, Nov. 17, 1866, with the following cast:—

MIGNON Mme. GALLI-MARIE. WILHELM MEISTER M. ACHARD. LAERTES M. CONDERS. LOTARIO M. BATAILLE. FILINA Mme. CABEL.

The scene of the first two acts is laid in Germany, and of the third in Italy. Mignon, the heroine, in her childhood was stolen by gypsies. She is of noble birth. The mother died shortly after her bereavement, and the father, disguised as the harper Lotario, has wandered for years in quest of his daughter. The opera opens in the yard of a German inn, where a troupe of actors, among them Filina and Laertes, are resting, on their way to the castle of a neighboring prince, where they are to give a performance.

A strolling gypsy band arrives about the same time, and stops to give an entertainment to the guests. Mignon, who is with the band, is ordered to perform the egg dance, but, worn out with fatigue and abusive treatment, refuses. Giarno, the leader, rushes at her, but the old harper interposes in her behalf. Giarno then turns upon Lotario, when the wandering student, Wilhelm Meister, suddenly appears and rescues both Mignon and the harper. To save her from any further persecution he engages her as his page, and follows on in the suite of Filina, for whom he conceives a violent and sudden passion. Touched by his kind attentions to her, Mignon falls in love with Wilhelm, who, ignorant of his page's affection, becomes more and more a prey to the fascinations of Filina. At last the troupe arrives at the castle, Wilhelm and Mignon with them. Wilhelm enters with the others, leaving Mignon to await him outside. Maddened with jealousy, she attempts to throw herself into a lake near by, but is restrained by the notes of Lotario's harp. She rushes to him for counsel and protection, and in her despair invokes vengeance upon all in the castle. As the entertainment closes, Filina and her troupe emerge, joyful over their great success. She sends Mignon back for some flowers she has left, when suddenly flames appear in the windows. Maddened by his own grief and Mignon's troubles Lotario has fired the castle. Wilhelm rushes into the burning building and brings out the unconscious Mignon in his arms.

The last act opens in Lotario's home in Italy, whither Mignon has been taken, followed by Wilhelm, who has discovered her devoted attachment to him, and has freed himself from the fascinations of Filina. Through the medium of a long-concealed casket containing a girdle which Mignon had worn in her childhood, also by a prayer which she repeats, and the picture of her mother, Lotario is at last convinced that she is his daughter, and gives his blessing to her union with Wilhelm.

The overture recites the leading motives of the work. The first act opens with a fresh and melodious chorus of the townspeople over their beer in the inn yard ("Su borghesi e magnati"). During their singing a characteristic march is heard, and the gypsy band enters. The scene is a charming one, the little ballet being made still more picturesque by the fresh chorus and a song of Filina's in waltz time. The scene of the encounter with Giarno and Mignon's rescue follows, and leads up to a very spirited quintet, which is followed by a graceful trio between Wilhelm, Filina, and Laertes, the actor. In the next scene Wilhelm questions Mignon as to her history, and at the end of their pathetic duet, when he says, "Were I to break thy chains and set thee free, to what beloved spot wouldst thou take thy way?" she replies in the beautiful romanza, "Non conosci il bel suol," more familiarly known in Goethe's own words, "Kennst du das Land,"—a song full of tender beauty and rare expression, and one of the most delightful inspirations of any composer. It is said that much of its charm comes from the composer's study of Ary Scheffer's picture of Mignon. Be this as it may, he has caught the inner sense of the poem, and expressed it in exquisite tones. It is followed almost immediately by a duet between Mignon and Lotario ("Leggiadre rondinelle") of almost equal beauty, known as the Swallow duet. After a somewhat uninteresting scene between Laertes, Filina, and Frederick, who is also in love with Filina, the finale begins with the departure of the actors to fulfil their engagement, in which Filina, in a graceful aria ("Grazie al gentil signor"), invites Wilhelm to be of the number.

The second act opens in Filina's boudoir, where she is at her toilet, arraying herself for her part as Titania in the forthcoming performance of the "Midsummer Night's Dream" at the castle. As Wilhelm and Mignon enter the apartment, a very dramatic conversation ensues between them in the form of a terzetto ("Ohime quell' acre riso"). Mignon is in despair at the attention Wilhelm pays Filina, and the latter adds to her pangs by singing with him a gay coquettish aria ("Gai complimenti"). As they leave the room Mignon goes to the mirror and begins adorning herself as Filina had done, hoping thereby to attract Wilhelm, singing meanwhile a characteristic song ("Conosco un zingarello") with a peculiar refrain, which the composer himself calls the "Styrienne." It is one of the most popular numbers in the opera, and when first sung in Paris made a furor. At the end of the scene Mignon goes into a cabinet to procure one of Filina's dresses, and the lovelorn Frederick enters and sings his only number in the opera, a bewitching rondo gavotte ("Filina nelle sale"). Wilhelm enters, and a quarrel between the jealous pair is prevented by the sudden appearance of Mignon in Filina's finery. She rushes between them, Frederick makes his exit in a fume, and Wilhelm announces to Mignon his intention to leave her, in the aria, "Addio, Mignon, fa core," one of the most pathetic songs in the modern opera. In the next scene she tears off her finery and rushes out expressing her hatred of Filina. The scene now changes to the park surrounding the castle where the entertainment is going on. Mignon hears the laughter and clapping of hands, and overcome with despair attempts to throw herself into the lake, but is restrained by Lotario, and a beautiful duet ensues between them ("Sofferto hai tu?"). In the next scene Filina, the actors, and their train of followers emerge from the castle, and in the midst of their joy she sings the polacca, "Ah! per stassera," which is a perfect feu de joie of sparkling music, closing with a brilliant cadenza. The finale, which is very dramatic, describes the burning of the castle and the rescue of Mignon.

The last act is more dramatic than musical, though it contains a few delightful numbers, among them the chorus barcarole in the first scene, "Orsu, sciogliam le vela," a song by Wilhelm ("Ah! non credea"), and the love duet, "Ah! son felice," between Wilhelm and Mignon, in which is heard again the cadenza of Filina's polacca. "Mignon" has always been a success, and will unquestionably always keep its place on the stage,—longer even than the composer's more ambitious works, "Hamlet" and "Francoise de Rimini," by virtue of its picturesqueness and poetic grace, as well as by the freshness, warmth, and richness of its melodies. In this country opera-goers will long remember "Mignon" by the great successes made by Miss Kellogg as Filina, and by Mme. Lucca and Mme. Nilsson in the title-role.



VERDI.

Giuseppi Verdi was born at Roncale, Italy, Oct. 9, 1813. He displayed his musical talent at a very early age; indeed, in his tenth year he was appointed organist in his native town. He then studied for a time at Busseto, and afterwards, by the help of a patron, M. Barezzi, went to Milan. Curiously enough he was refused a scholarship on the ground that he displayed no aptitude for music. Nothing daunted, he studied privately with the composer Lavigne, and five years afterwards commenced his career as an operatic writer. His first opera, "Oberto," was given at La Scala, Milan, with indifferent success. He was not fairly recognized until his opera "I Lombardi" was performed. In 1844 "Ernani" was received with great enthusiasm. "Attila" (1846) was his next great triumph; and then followed in rapid succession a large number of operas, among them: "I Masnadieri" (1847), written for the English stage, with Jenny Lind, Lablache, and Gardoni in the cast; "Luisa Miller" (1849); "Stifellio" (1851); "Rigoletto" (1851); "Il Trovatore," Rome (1853); "La Traviata," Venice (1853); "I Vespri Siciliani," Paris (1855); "Simon Boccanegra," Venice (1857); "Un Ballo in Maschera," Rome (1858); "La Forza del Destino," St. Petersburg (1862); "Don Carlos," Paris (1867), and "Aida," his last opera, Cairo (1871). Since that time Verdi has produced nothing but a Pater Noster and an Ave Maria (1880), and the "Requiem," composed in memory of the patriot Manzoni, and produced at Milan in 1874, on the occasion of the anniversary of his death. It has been reported that he is at work upon a new opera, "Othello," the words by Arrigo Boito, the composer of "Mephistopheles;" but nothing more than the report has been heard from it during the past three or four years. The great melodist now spends a very quiet life as a country gentleman upon his estates near Busseto.

ERNANI.

"Ernani," a tragic opera in four acts, words by F.M. Piave, the subject taken from Victor Hugo's tragedy of "Hernani," was first produced at Venice, March 9, 1844. The earlier performances of the opera gave the composer much trouble. Before the first production the police interfered, refusing to allow the representation of a conspiracy on the stage, so that many parts of the libretto, as well as much of the music, had to be changed. The blowing of Don Silva's horn in the last act was also objected to by one Count Mocenigo, upon the singular ground that it was disgraceful. The Count, however, was silenced more easily than the police. The chorus "Si ridesti il Leon di Castiglia" also aroused a political manifestation by the Venetians. The opera was given in Paris, Jan. 6, 1846, and there it encountered the hostility of Victor Hugo, who demanded that the libretto should be changed. To accommodate the irate poet, the words were altered, the characters were changed to Italians, and the new title of "II Proscritto" was given to the work.

The action of the opera takes place in Arragon, Spain, and the period is 1519. Elvira, a noble Spanish lady, betrothed to the grandee Don Gomez de Silva, is in love with the bandit Ernani, who forms a plan to carry her off. While receiving the congratulations of her friends upon her approaching marriage with Silva, Don Carlos, the King of Spain, enters her apartment, declares his passion for her, and tries to force her from the castle. She cries for help, and Ernani comes to her rescue and defies the king. The situation is still further complicated by the sudden arrival of Silva, who declares he will avenge the insult. Finding, however, that it is the King whom he has challenged, he sues for pardon. In the second act, as the nuptials are about to be solemnized, Ernani enters, disguised as a pilgrim, and believing Elvira false to him, throws off his disguise and demands to be given up to the King, which Silva refuses, as he cannot betray a guest. Discovering, however, that Elvira and Ernani are attached to each other, he determines on vengeance. The King eventually carries off Elvira as a hostage of the faith of Silva, whereupon the latter challenges Ernani. The bandit refuses to fight with him, informs him that the King is also his rival, and asks to share in his vengeance, promising in turn to give up his life when Silva calls for it, and presenting him with a horn which he is to sound whenever he wishes to have the promise kept. In the third act, the King, aware that the conspirators are to meet in the catacombs of Aquisgrana, conceals himself there, and when the assassins meet to decide who shall kill him, he suddenly appears among them and condemns the nobles to be sent to the block. Ernani, who is a duke, under the ban of the King of Castile, demands the right to join them, but the King magnanimously pardons the conspirators and consents to the union of Ernani and Elvira. Upon the very eve of their happiness, and in the midst of their festivities, the fatal horn is heard, and true to his promise Ernani parts from Elvira and kills himself.

The first act opens with a spirited chorus of banditti and mountaineers ("Allegri, beviami") as they are drinking and gambling in their mountain retreat. Ernani appears upon a neighboring height and announces himself in a despondent aria ("Come rugiada al cespite"). A brief snatch of chorus intervenes, when he breaks out in a second and more passionate strain ("Dell' esilio nel dolore"), in which he sings of his love for Elvira. The third scene opens in Elvira's apartments, and is introduced with one of the most beautiful of Verdi's arias, "Ernani, involami," with which all concert-goers have become acquainted by its frequent repetition. A graceful chorus of her ladies bearing gifts leads to a second and more florid number ("Tutto sprezzo che d' Ernani"). Don Carlos enters, and in the seventh scene has an aria ("Bella come un primo amore") in which he declares his passion for Elvira, leading up to a very dramatic duet between them ("Fiero sangue d' Aragona"). This is followed in turn by a trio between the two and Ernani. The finale commences with an impressive and sonorous bass solo ("Infelice! e tuo credevi") by Silva, and closes with a septet and chorus of great power.

The second act, like the first, opens with a chorus, this time, however, of mixed voices, the power of which is amplified by a military band on the stage. After three scenes of dramatic dialogue, an impassioned duet ("Ah! morir potessi adesso!") occurs between Ernani and Elvira, followed by a second, of great dramatic intensity, in the seventh scene ("La vendetta piu tremenda"). The finale begins with a spirited appeal by Silva and Ernani for vengeance against the King ("In arcione, cavalieri") which is met by a stirring response from their followers ("Pronti vedi li tuoi cavalieri"), sung by full male chorus and closing the act.

The third act is devoted to the conspiracy, and in the second scene Don Carlos has a very impressive and at times thrilling soliloquy ("Gran Dio! costo sui sepolcrali marmi"). The conspiracy then begins with very characteristic accompaniments, closing with the chorus in full harmony ("Si ridesti il Leon di Castiglia"), which at the performance of the work in Venice roused such a fury among the Venetians. The finale commences with the appearance of Don Carlos among the conspirators, and closes with the great sextet and chorus, "O Sommo Carlo." Opening with a barytone solo, it is gradually worked up in a crescendo of great power and thrilling effect. The number is very familiar from its English setting under the title, "Crowned with the Tempest."

The fourth act rapidly hurries to the tragic close, and is less interesting from a musical point of view, as the climax was reached in the finale of the third. The principal numbers are the chorus of masks in the first scene ("O come felici"), accompanied by military band, and the great duet between Elvira and Ernani ("Cessaro i suoni"), which passes from rapturous ecstasy to the despair of fate ("Per noi d' amore il talamo") as the horn of Silva is heard, reminding Ernani of his promise. Though one of the earliest of Verdi's works, "Ernani" is one of his strongest in dramatic intensity, in the brilliancy and power of its concerted finales, and in the beauty of its great chorus effects.

RIGOLETTO.

"Rigoletto," an opera in three acts, words by Piave, the subject taken from Victor Hugo's tragedy, "Le Roi s'amuse," was first produced at Venice, March 11, 1851. The part of Gilda has always been a favorite one with great artists, among whom Nantier-Didiee, Bosio, and Miolan-Carvalho played the role with extraordinary success. In the London season of 1860 Mario and Ronconi in the respective parts of the Duke and Rigoletto, it is said, gave dramatic portraitures which were among the most consummate achievements of the lyric stage. The records of its first production, like those of "Ernani," are of unusual interest. Verdi himself suggested Victor Hugo's tragedy to Piave for a libretto, and he soon prepared one, changing the original title, however, to "La Maledizione." Warned by the political events of 1848, the police flatly refused to allow the representation of a king on the stage in such situations as those given to Francis I. in the original tragedy. The composer and the manager of the theatre begged in vain that the libretto should be accepted, but the authorities were obstinate. At last a way was found out of the difficulty by the chief of police himself, who was a great lover of art. He suggested to the librettist that the King should be changed to a duke of Mantua, and the title of the work to "Rigoletto," the name of the buffoon who figures in the place of the original Triboulet. Verdi accepted the alterations, and had an opera ready in forty days which by nearly all critics is considered his musical masterpiece, notwithstanding the revolting character of the story.

The scene of the opera is laid in Mantua. Rigoletto, the privileged buffoon of the Duke, who also plays the part of pander in all his licentious schemes, among numerous other misdeeds has assisted his master in the seduction of the wife of Count Ceprano and the daughter of Count Monterone. The latter appears before the Duke and Rigoletto, and demands reparation for the dishonor put upon his house, only to find himself arrested by order of the Duke, and taunted in the most insolent manner by the buffoon, upon whom he invokes the vengeance of Heaven. Even the courtiers themselves are enraged at Rigoletto's taunts, and determine to assist in Monterone's revenge by stealing Gilda, the jester's daughter, whom they suppose to be his mistress. Closely as she had been concealed, she had not escaped the observation of the Duke, who in the guise of a poor student wins her affections and discovers her dwelling-place. Pretending that it is Count Ceprano's wife whom they are about to abduct, they even make Rigoletto assist in the plot and help convey his own daughter to the Duke's apartments. In his blind fury when he discovers the trick that has been played upon him, he hires Sparafucile, a professional assassin, to kill the Duke. The bravo allures the Duke to his house, intending to carry out his agreement; but his sister, Magdalena, is so fascinated with the handsome stranger, that she determines to save him. Sparafucile at first will not listen to her, but finally promises if any one else comes to the house before the time agreed upon for the murder he shall be the victim. Rigoletto meanwhile disguises his daughter in male attire in order that she may escape to Verona; but before she sets out he takes her to the vicinity of Sparafucile's house, that she may witness the perfidy of the Duke. While outside, she overhears the quarrel between Sparafucile and Magdalena, and learns his intention to murder the Duke, who is even then sleeping in the house. With a woman's devotion she springs forward to save the Duke's life, knocks at the door, and demands admittance. Sparafucile opens it, and as she enters stabs her. He then thrusts her body into a sack, and delivers it to her father as the body of the man whom he had agreed to slay. Rigoletto, gloating over his revenge, is about to throw the sack into the river near by, when he suddenly hears the voice of the Duke. He tears open the sack to see whose body it contains, and by the glare of the lightning is horrified to find that it is his own daughter, and realizes that the malediction of Monterone has been accomplished. She expires in his arms, blessing her lover and father, while he sinks to the ground overwhelmed with the fulfilment of the terrible curse.

The first act opens in the ball-room of the ducal palace. After a brief dialogue between the Duke and one of his courtiers, the former vaunts his own fickleness in one of the most graceful and charming arias in the whole opera ("Questa o quella"). Some spirited dramatic scenes follow, which introduce the malediction of Monterone and the compact between Rigoletto and Sparafucile, and lead up to a scena of great power ("Io la lingua, egli ha il pugnali"), in which the buffoon vents his furious rage against the courtiers. A tender duet between Rigoletto and Gilda follows, and a second duet in the next scene between Gilda and the Duke ("Addio, speranza ed anima"), which for natural grace, passionate intensity, and fervid expression is one of Verdi's finest numbers. As the Duke leaves, Gilda, following him with her eyes, breaks out in the passionate love-song, "Caro nome," which is not alone remarkable for its delicacy and richness of melody, but also for the brilliancy of its bravura, calling for rare range and flexibility of voice. The act closes with the abduction, and gives an opportunity for a delightful male chorus ("Zitti, zitti") sung pianissimo.

The second act also opens in the palace, with an aria by the Duke ("Parmi veder le lagrime"), in which he laments the loss of Gilda. Another fine chorus ("Scorrendo uniti remota via") follows, from which he learns that Gilda is already in the palace. In the fourth scene Rigoletto has another grand scena ("Cortigiani vil razza dannata"), which is intensely dramatic, expressing in its musical alternations the whole gamut of emotions, from the fury of despair to the most exquisite tenderness of appeal as he pleads with the courtiers to tell him where his daughter is. In the next scene he discovers her, and the act closes with a duet between them ("Tutte le feste al tempio"), which, after a strain of most impassioned tenderness, is interrupted by the passage of the guards conveying Monterone to prison, and then closes with a furious outburst of passion from Rigoletto. With the exception of two numbers, the last act depends for its effect upon the dramatic situations and the great power of the terrible denouement; but these two numbers are among the finest Verdi has ever given to the world. The first is the tenor solo sung in Sparafucile's house in the second scene by the Duke,—"La donna e mobile," an aria of extreme elegance and graceful abandon, which is heard again in the last scene, its lightly tripping measures contrasting strangely with the savage glee of Rigoletto, so soon to change to wails of despair as he realizes the full force of the malediction. The second is the great quartet in the third scene between the Duke, Gilda, Magdalena, and Rigoletto ("Bella figlia dell' amore"), which stands out as an inspiration in comparison with the rest of the opera, fine as its music is. The story itself is almost too repulsive for stage representation; but in beauty, freshness, originality, and dramatic expression the music of "Rigoletto" is Verdi's best; and in all this music the quartet is the masterpiece.

LA TRAVIATA.

"La Traviata," an opera in three acts, words by Piave, is founded upon Dumas's "Dame aux Camelias," familiar to the English stage as "Camille." The original play is supposed to represent phases of modern French life; but the Italian libretto changes the period to the year 1700, in the days of Louis XIV.; and there are also some material changes of characters,—Marguerite Gauthier of the original appearing as Violetta Valery, and Olympia as Flora Belvoix, at whose house the ball scene takes place. The opera was first produced at Venice, March 6, 1853, with the following cast of the principal parts:—

VIOLETTA Mme. DONATELLI. ALFREDO M. GRAZIANI. GERMONT M. VARESI.

The opera at its first production was a complete failure, though this was due more to the singers than to the music. It is said that when the doctor announced in the third act that Mme. Donatelli, who impersonated the consumptive heroine, and who was one of the stoutest ladies ever seen on the stage, had but a few days to live, the whole audience broke out into roars of laughter. Time has brought its consolations to the composer, however, for "Traviata" is now one of the most popular operas in the modern repertory. When it was first produced in Paris, Oct. 27, 1864, Christine Nilsson made her debut in it. In London, the charming little singer Mme. Piccolomini made her debut in the same opera, May 24, 1856. Adelina Patti, since that time, has not only made Violetta the strongest character in her repertory, but is without question the most finished representative of the fragile heroine the stage has seen.

The story as told by the librettist simply resolves itself into three principal scenes,—the supper at Violetta's house, where she makes the acquaintance of Alfred, and the rupture between them occasioned by the arrival of Alfred's father; the ball at the house of Flora; and the death scene and reconciliation, linked together by recitative, so that the dramatic unity of the original is lost to a certain extent. The first act opens with a gay party in Violetta's house. Among the crowd about her is Alfred Germont, a young man from Provence, who is passionately in love with her. The sincerity of his passion finally influences her to turn aside from her life of voluptuous pleasure and to cherish a similar sentiment for him. In the next act we find her living in seclusion with her lover in a country-house in the environs of Paris, to support which she has sold her property in the city. When Alfred discovers this he refuses to be the recipient of her bounty, and sets out for Paris to recover the property. During his absence his father, who has discovered his retreat, visits Violetta, and pleads with her to forsake Alfred, not only on his own account, but to save his family from disgrace. Touched by the father's grief, she consents, and secretly returns to Paris, where she once more resumes her old life. At a ball given by Flora Belvoix, one of Violetta's associates, Alfred meets her again, overwhelms her with reproaches, and insults her by flinging her miniature at her feet in presence of the whole company. Stung by her degradation, Violetta goes home to die, and too late Alfred learns the real sacrifice she has made. He hastens to comfort her, but she dies forgiving and blessing him.

After a short prelude the first act opens with a vivacious chorus of the guests at Violetta's supper, leading to a drinking-song ("Libiamo, libiamo") in waltz time, sung first by Alfred and then by Violetta, the chorus echoing each couplet with very pretty effect. After a long dialogue between the two, closing with chorus, Violetta has a grand scena which is always a favorite show-piece with concert artists. It begins with an andante movement ("Ah! fors e lui"), expressive of the suddenly awakened love which she feels for Alfred, with a refrain of half a dozen measures in the finale which might be called the Violetta motive, and then suddenly develops into a brisk and sparkling allegro ("Sempre libera") full of the most florid and brilliant ornamentation, in which she again resolves to shut out every feeling of love and plunge into the whirl of dissipation. This number, unlike most of Verdi's finales which are concerted, closes the act.

The second act opens in the country-house with an effective tenor aria ("De' miei bollenti") sung by Alfred. In the next scene Germont enters, and after a brief dialogue with Violetta sings a short cantabile ("Pura siccome un angelo"), leading to a duet ("Dite alia giovine") with Violetta which is full of tenderness. In the interview which immediately follows between Germont and Alfred, the father appeals to his son with memories of home in an andante ("Di Provenza il mar") which in form and simplicity and simple pathos of expression might almost be called a ballad. It is always a favorite, and is usually considered the best number in the opera, notwithstanding its simple melody. The next scene changes to the ball-room of Flora, and is introduced with a peculiar chorus effect. A masked chorus of gypsies, accompanying their measures with tambourines, is followed by a second chorus of matadors, also in mask, who accent the time with the pikes they carry, the double number ending with a gay bolero. The act closes with a long duet between Violetta and Alfred, developing in the finale, by the entrance of Germont, to a very strong and dramatic trio.

The third act opens in Violetta's chamber with a reminiscence of the introduction. As she contemplates her changed appearance in the mirror, she bids a sad farewell to her dreams of happiness in the aria, "Addio! del passato," in harsh contrast with which is heard a bacchanalian chorus behind the scenes ("Largo al quadrupede"). In the next scene occurs the passionate duet with Alfred, "Parigi, o cara," which is a close copy of the final duet in "Trovatore" between Manrico and Azucena. It is followed by the aria, "Ah! gran Dio," for Violetta, which leads to the concluding quintet and death scene.

IL TROVATORE.

"II Trovatore," an opera in four acts, words by Cammarano, was first produced in Rome, Jan. 19, 1853. In 1857 it was brought out in Paris as "Le Trouvere," and in London, 1856, in English, as "The Gypsy's Vengeance." It was produced in Rome in the same year with "La Traviata," but unlike the latter, it was greeted at once with an enthusiastic welcome; and it has held the stage ever since as one of the most popular operas in the modern repertory. In this regard, indeed, it shares with "Martha" and "Faust" the highest place in popular admiration.

The opera opens with a midnight scene at the palace of Aliaferia, where the old servitor, Ferrando, relates to his associates the story of the fate of Garzia, brother of the Count di Luna, in whose service they are employed. While in their cradles, Garzia was bewitched by an old gypsy, and day by day pined away. The gypsy was burned at the stake for sorcery; and in revenge Azucena, her daughter, stole the sickly child. At the opening of the opera his fate has not been discovered.

As the servitor closes his narrative and he and his companions depart, the Count di Luna enters and lingers by the apartment of the Duchess Leonora, with whom he is in love. Hearing his voice, Leonora comes into the garden, supposing it is Manrico the troubadour, whom she had crowned victor at a recent tournament, and of whom she had become violently enamoured. As she greets the Count, Manrico appears upon the scene and charges her with infidelity. Recognizing her error, she flies to Manrico for protection. The Count challenges him to combat, and as they prepare to fight she falls to the ground insensible.

In the second act we are introduced to a gypsy camp, where Azucena relates to Manrico, who has been wounded in the duel with the Count, the same story which Ferrando had told his friends, with the addition that when she saw her mother burning she caught up the Count's child, intending to throw it into the flames, but by a mistake sacrificed her own infant. As the story concludes, a messenger arrives, summoning Manrico to the defence of the castle of Castellar, and at the same time informing him that Leonora, supposing him dead, has gone to a convent. He arrives at the convent in time to rescue her before she takes her vows, and bears her to Castellar, which is at once besieged by the Count's forces.

The third act opens in the camp of the Count, where Azucena, arrested as a spy, is dragged in. She calls upon Manrico for help. The mention of his rival's name only adds fuel to the Count's wrath, and he orders the gypsy to be burned in sight of the castle. Ferrando has already recognized her as the supposed murderer of the Count's brother, and her filial call to Manrico also reveals to him that she is his mother. He makes a desperate effort to rescue her, but is defeated, taken prisoner, and thrown into a dungeon with Azucena. Leonora vainly appeals to the Count to spare Manrico, and at last offers him her hand if he will save his life. He consents, and Leonora hastens to the prison to convey the tidings, having previously taken poison, preferring to die rather than fulfil her hateful compact. Manrico refuses his liberty, and as Leonora falls in a dying condition the Count enters and orders Manrico to be put to death at once. He is dragged away to execution, but as the Count triumphantly forces Azucena to a window and shows her the tragic scene, she reveals her secret, and informing the horror-stricken Count that he has murdered his own brother, falls lifeless to the ground.

The first act opens with a ballad in mazurka time ("Abbietta Zingara"), in which Ferrando relates the story of the gypsy, leading up to a scena for Leonora, which is treated in Verdi's favorite style. It begins with an andante ("Tacea la notte placida"), a brief dialogue with her attendant Inez intervening, and then develops into an allegro ("Di tale amor") which is a brilliant bit of bravura. A brief snatch of fascinating melody behind the scenes ("Deserto sulla terra") introduces Manrico, and the act closes with a trio ("Di geloso amor sprezzato"), which as an expression of combined grief, fear, and hate, is one of the most dramatic and intense of all Verdi's finales.

The second act opens with the Anvil chorus in the camp of the gypsies ("La Zingarella"), the measures accented with hammers upon the anvils. This number is so familiar that it does not need further reference. As its strains die away in the distance, Azucena breaks out into an aria of intense energy, with very expressive accompaniment ("Stride le vampa"), in which she tells the fearful story of the burning of her mother. A very dramatic dialogue with Manrico ensues, closing with a spirited aria for tenor ("Mai reggendo") and duet ("Sino all' elsa"). The scene is interrupted by the notes of a horn announcing the arrival of a messenger. The second scene is introduced by a flowing, broad, and beautifully sustained aria for the Count ("Il balen del suo"), and, like Leonora's numbers in the garden scene, again develops from a slow movement to a rapid and spirited march tempo ("Per me ora fatale"), the act closing with a powerful concerted effect of quartet and chorus.

The third act is introduced with a very free and animated soldiers' chorus. Azucena is dragged in and sings a plaintive lament for Manrico ("Giorni poveri"). Two duets follow, between Azucena and the Count, and Manrico and Leonora,—the second worked up with beautiful effect by the blending of the organ in the convent chapel. The act closes with the spirited aria, "Di quella pira," for Manrico,—a number which has always been the delight of great dramatic tenors, not alone for its fine melody, but for its opportunity of showing the voice and using the exceptional high C which is introduced in the finale of the aria.

The last act is replete with beautiful melodies following each other in quick succession. It opens with a very florid aria for Leonora ("D' amor sull' ali rosee"), leading to the exquisite scene of the Miserere, "Ah che la morte,"—a number which has never yet failed to charm and arouse audiences with the beauty and richness of its musical effect. As the Count enters, Leonora has another powerful aria ("Mira di acerbe"), which in the next scene is followed by the familiar duet between Azucena and Manrico, "Si la stanchezza," upon which Verdi lavished his musical skill with charming effect. The last scene closes with the tragedy. The whole opera is liberally enriched with melodies, and is dramatic throughout; but the last act is the crown of the work, and may successfully challenge comparison, for beauty, variety, and dramatic effect, with any other opera in the purely Italian school.

IL BALLO IN MASCHERA.

"Il Ballo in Maschera," an opera in three acts, but usually performed in four, words by M. Somma, was first produced in Rome, Feb. 17, 1859. In preparing his work for the stage, Verdi encountered numerous obstacles. The librettist used the same subject which M. Scribe had adopted for Auber's opera, "Gustavus III.," and the opera was at first called by the same name,—"Gustavo III." It was intended for production at the San Carlo, Naples, during the Carnival of 1858; but while the rehearsals were proceeding, Orsini made his memorable attempt to kill Napoleon III., and the authorities at once forbade a performance of the work, as it contained a conspiracy scene. The composer was ordered to set different words to his music, but he peremptorily refused; whereupon the manager brought suit against him, claiming forty thousand dollars damages. The disappointment nearly incited a revolution in Naples. Crowds gathered in the streets shouting, "Viva Verdi," implying at the same time, by the use of the letters in Verdi's name, the sentiment, "Viva Vittorio Emmanuele Re Di Italia." A way out of his difficulties, however, was finally suggested by the impresario at Rome, who arranged with the censorship to have the work brought out at the Teatro Apollo as "Un Ballo in Maschera." The scene was changed to Boston, Massachusetts, and the time laid in the colonial period, notwithstanding the anachronism that masked balls were unknown at that time in New England history. The Swedish king appeared as Ricardo, Count of Warwick and Governor of Boston, and his attendants as Royalists and Puritans, among them two negroes, Sam and Tom, who are very prominent among the conspirators. In this form, the Romans having no objection to the assassination of an English governor, the opera was produced with great success.

The first act opens in the house of the Governor, where a large party, among them a group of conspirators, is assembled. During the meeting a petition is presented for the banishment of Ulrico, a negro sorcerer. Urged by curiosity, the Governor, disguised as a sailor and accompanied by some of his friends, pays the old witch a visit. Meanwhile another visit has been planned. Amelia, the wife of the Governor's secretary, meets the witch at night in quest of a remedy for her passion for Richard, who of course has also been fascinated by her. They arrive about the same time, and he overhears the witch telling her to go to a lonely spot, where she will find an herb potent enough to cure her of her evil desires. The Governor follows her, and during their interview the Secretary hurriedly rushes upon the scene to notify him that conspirators are on his track. He throws a veil over Amelia's face and orders Reinhart, the Secretary, to conduct her to a place of safety without seeking to know who she is. He consents, and the Governor conceals himself in the forest. The conspirators meanwhile meet the pair, and in the confusion Amelia drops her veil, thus revealing herself to Reinhart. Furious at the Governor's perfidy, he joins the conspirators. In the denouement the Secretary stabs his master at a masquerade, and the latter while dying attests the purity of Amelia, and magnanimously gives his secretary a commission appointing him to a high position in England.

After a brief prelude, the first act opens with a double chorus, in which the attitude of the friends of the Governor and the conspirators against him is strongly contrasted. In the next scene Richard and his page, Oscar, enter; and after a short dialogue Richard sings a very graceful romanza ("La rivedra nell' estasi"), which in the next scene is followed by a spirited aria for Reinhart ("Di speranze e glorie piena"). In the fourth scene Oscar has a very pretty song ("Volta la terrea"), in which he defends Ulrica against the accusations of the judge, leading up to a very effective quintet and chorus which has a flavor of the opera bouffe style. In grim contrast with it comes the witch music in the next scene ("Re del abisso"), set to a weird accompaniment. As the various parties arrive, a somewhat talky trio ensues between Amelia, Ulrica, and Richard, followed in the next scene by a lovely barcarole ("Di' tu se fedele") sung by Richard, leading to a beautifully written concerted finale full of sharp dramatic contrasts.

The second act opens upon a moonlight scene on the spot where murderers are punished; and Amelia, searching for the magic herb, sings a long dramatic aria ("Ma dall arido") consisting of abrupt and broken measures, the orchestra filling the gaps with characteristic accompaniment. Richard appears upon the scene, and the passionate love-duet follows, "M'ami, m'ami." The interview is ended by the sudden appearance of Reinhart, who warns the Governor of his danger, the scene taking the form of a spirited trio ("Odi tu come"). A buffo trio closes the act, Sam and Tom supplying the humorous element with their laughing refrain.

The last act opens in Reinhart's house with a passionate scene between the Secretary and his wife, containing two strong numbers, a minor andante ("Morro, ma prima in grazia") for Amelia, and an aria for Reinhart ("O dolcezzo perdute"), which for originality and true artistic power is worthy of being classed as an inspiration. The conspiracy music then begins, and leads to the ball scene, which is most brilliantly worked up with orchestra, military band, and stringed quartet behind the scenes supplying the dance-music, and the accompaniment to the tragical conspiracy, in the midst of which, like a bright sunbeam, comes the page's bewitching song, "Saper vorreste." The opera closes with the death of Richard, set to a very dramatic accompaniment. "The Masked Ball" was the last work Verdi wrote for the Italian stage, and though uneven in its general effect, it contains some of his most original and striking numbers,—particularly those allotted to the page and Reinhart. In the intensity of the music and the strength of the situations it is superior even to "Trovatore," as the composer makes his effects more legitimately.

AIDA.

"Aida," an opera in four acts, was first produced at Cairo, Egypt, Dec. 27, 1871, and was written upon a commission from the Khedive of that country. The subject of the opera was taken from a sketch, originally written in prose, by the director of the Museum at Boulak, which was afterwards rendered into French verse by M. Camille de Locle, and translated thence into Italian for Verdi by Sig. A. Ghizlandoni. It is the last opera Verdi has composed, and is notable for his departure from the conventional Italian forms and the partial surrender he has made to the constantly increasing influence of the so-called music of the future. The subject is entirely Egyptian, and the music is full of Oriental color.

The action of the opera passes in Memphis and Thebes, and the period is in the time of the Pharaohs. Aida, the heroine, is a slave, daughter of Amonasro, the King of Ethiopia, and at the opening of the opera is in captivity among the Egyptians. A secret attachment exists between herself and Rhadames, a young Egyptian warrior, who is also loved by Amneris, daughter of the sovereign of Egypt. The latter suspects that she has a rival, but does not discover her until Rhadames returns victorious from an expedition against the rebellious Amonasro, who is brought back a prisoner. The second act opens with a scene between Amneris and Aida, in which the Princess wrests the secret from the slave by pretending that Rhadames has been killed; and the truth is still further revealed when Rhadames pleads with the King to spare the lives of the captives. The latter agrees to release all but Aida and Amonasro, bestows the hand of Amneris upon the unwilling conqueror, and the act closes amid general jubilation. Acting upon Amonasro's admonitions, Aida influences Rhadames to fly from Egypt and espouse the cause of her father. The lovers are overheard by Amneris and Ramfis, the high priest. The Princess, with all the fury of a woman scorned, denounces Rhadames as a traitor. He is tried for treason and condemned to be buried alive in the vaults under the temple of the god Phtah. Pardon is offered him if he will accept the hand of Amneris, but he refuses and descends to the tomb, where he finds Aida awaiting him. The stones are sealed above them and the lovers are united in death, while Amneris, heart-broken over the tragedy her jealousy has caused, kneels in prayer before their sepulchre.

After a short prelude, consisting of a beautiful pianissimo movement, mainly for the violins, and very Wagnerish in its general style, the first act opens in a hall of the King's palace at Memphis. A short dialogue between Rhadames and the priest Ramfis leads to a delicious romanza ("Celeste Aida") which is entirely fresh and original, recalling nothing that appears in any of Verdi's previous works. It is followed by a strong declamatory duet between Rhadames and Amneris, which upon the appearance of Aida develops to a trio ("Vieni, o diletta"). In the next scene the King and his retinue of ministers, priests, and warriors enter, and a majestic ensemble occurs, beginning with a martial chorus ("Su! del Nilo") in response to the appeal of the priests. As the war chorus dies away and the retinue disappears, Aida has a scena of great power. It begins with a lament for her country ("Ritorna vincitor"), in passionate declamatory phrases, clearly showing the influence of Wagner; but in its smooth, flowing cantabile in the finale, "Numi pieta," Verdi returns to the Italian style again. The final scene is full of oriental color and barbaric richness of display. The consecrated arms are delivered to Rhadames. The priestesses behind the scene to the accompaniment of harps, and the priests in front with sonorous chant, invoke the aid of the god Phtah, while other priestesses execute the sacred dance. An impressive duet between Ramfis and Rhadames closes the act. In this finale, Verdi has utilized two native Egyptian themes,—the melody sung by the priestesses with the harps, and the dance-melody given out by the flutes.

The second act opens with a female chorus by the slave girls, the rhythm of which is in keeping with the oriental scene, followed by an impassioned duet between Amneris and Aida ("Alla pompa che si appresta"), through which are heard the martial strains of the returning conqueror. The second scene opens the way for another ensemble, which with its massive choruses, and its stirring march and ballet, heralding the victory of Rhadames, is one of the most picturesque stage scenes the opera has ever furnished. A solemn, plaintive strain runs through the general jubilation in the appeal of Amonasro ("Questo assisa ch' io vesto") to the King for mercy to the captives. The finale begins with the remonstrances of the priests and people against the appeals of Amonasro and Rhadames, and closes with an intensely dramatic concerted number,—a quintet set off against the successive choruses of the priests, prisoners, and people ("Gloria all' Egitto").

The third act, like the first, after a brief dialogue, opens with a lovely romanza ("O cieli azzuri") sung by Aida, and the remainder of the act is devoted to two duets,—the first between Amonasro and Aida, and the second between Rhadames and Aida. Each is very dramatic in style and passionate in declamation, while they are revelations in the direction of combining the poetic and musical elements, when compared with any of the duets in Verdi's previous operas. In the last act the first scene contains another impressive duet between Rhadames and Amneris ("Chi ti salva, o sciagurato"), ending with the despairing song of Amneris, "Ohime! morir mi sento." In the last scene the stage is divided into two parts. The upper represents the temple of Vulcan, or Phtah, crowded with priests and priestesses, chanting as the stone is closed over the subterranean entrance, while below, in the tomb, Aida and Rhadames sing their dying duet ("O terra, addio"), its strains blending with the jubilation of the priests and the measures of the priestesses' sacred dance. "Aida" is the last and unquestionably the greatest, if not the most popular, of Verdi's works. It marks a long step from the style of his other operas towards the production of dramatic effect by legitimate musical means, and shows the strong influence Wagner has had upon him. Since this work was produced, no other for the stage has come from his pen. Should he break his long silence, some new work may show that he has gone still farther in the new path. If the time for rest has come, however, to the aged composer, "Aida" will remain his masterpiece among musicians and connoisseurs, though "Trovatore" will be best loved by the people.

OTHELLO.

Othello has formed the subject of the following compositions: "Otello," opera in 3 acts, text by Berio, music by Rossini (1816); "Othelleri," parody by Mueller, Vienna (1828); Othello, overture by Krug (1883); "Un Othello," operetta, by Legoux, Paris (1863); and "Othello," opera in 4 acts, text by Boito, music by Verdi (1886).

"Othello," the last of the long and brilliant series of Verdi's operas, was completed in 1886, and first produced at the La Scala Theatre, Milan, Feb. 5,

1887, with remarkable success, Signora Pantaleoni, Signors Maurel and Tamagno taking the three leading roles. The libretto was prepared by the accomplished Italian scholar and musician, Arrigo Boito, and closely follows the story of the Shakspearian tragedy.

The curtain rises upon a scene in Cyprus. A storm is raging, and a crowd, among them Iago, Cassio, and Roderigo, watch the angry sea, speculating upon the fate of Othello's vessel, which finally arrives safely in port amid much rejoicing. After returning the welcomes of his friends he enters the castle with Cassio and Montano. The conspiracy at once begins by the disclosure of Iago to Roderigo of the means by which Cassio's ruin may be compassed. Then follows the quarrel, which is interrupted by the appearance of Othello, who deprives Cassio of his office. A love-scene ensues between Desdemona and the Moor; but in the next act the malignity of Iago has already begun to take effect, and the seeds of jealousy are sown in Othello's breast. His suspicions are freshly aroused when Desdemona intercedes in Cassio's behalf, and are changed to conviction by the handkerchief episode and Iago's artful insinuation that Cassio mutters the name of Desdemona in his sleep; at which the enraged Moor clutches him by the throat and hurls him to the ground. In the third act Iago continues his diabolical purpose, at last so inflaming Othello's mind that he denounces Desdemona for her perfidy. The act concludes with the audience to the Venetian embassy, during which he becomes enraged, strikes Desdemona, and falls in convulsions. The last act transpires in her chamber, and follows Shakspeare in all the details of the smothering of Desdemona and the death of Othello.

There is no overture proper to the opera. After a few vigorous bars of prelude, the scene opens with a tempestuous and very striking description of a sea-storm by the orchestra, with the choruses of sailors and Cypriots rising above it and expressing alternate hope and terror. After a short recitative the storm dies away, and the choral phrases of rejoicing end in a pianissimo effect. A hurried recitative passage between Iago and Roderigo introduces a drinking scene in which Iago sings a very original and expressive brindisi with rollicking responses by the chorus. The quarrel follows with a vigorous and agitated accompaniment, and the act comes to a close with a beautiful love-duet between Othello and Desdemona.

The second act opens with recitative which reveals all of Iago's malignity, and is followed by his monologue, in which he sings a mock Credo which is Satanic in utterance. It is accompanied with tremendous outbursts of trumpets, and leads up to a furious declamatory duet with Othello. The next number brings a grateful change. It is a graceful mandolinata, sung by children's voices and accompanied by mandolins and guitars, followed by a charming chorus of mariners, who bring shells and corals to Desdemona. The intercession episode ensues, leading to a grand dramatic quartet for Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, and Othello. The latter then sings a pathetic but stirring melody with trumpet accompaniment, the farewell to war, and the act closes with a tumultuous duet between himself and Iago.

The third act opens with a very expressive duet for Othello and Desdemona, in which the growing wrath of the former and the sweet and touching unconsciousness of the other are happily contrasted. A sad monologue by Othello prepares the way for the coming outbreak. The handkerchief trio follows, in which the malignity of Iago, the indignation of Othello, and the inability of Cassio to understand the fell purpose of Iago are brought out with great force. At its close a fanfare of trumpets announces the Venetian embassy, and the finale begins with much brilliancy. Then follows the scene in which Othello smites down Desdemona. She supplicates for mercy in an aria of tender beauty, which leads up to a strong sextet. All the guests depart but Iago; and as Othello, overcome with his emotions, swoons away, the curtain falls upon Iago's contemptuous utterance, "There lies the lion of Venice."

The fourth act is full of musical beauty. After an orchestral introduction in which the horn has a very effective solo, the curtain rises and the action transpires in Desdemona's chamber. The scene opens with a touching recitative between Desdemona and Emilia. While the former prepares herself for slumber she sings the "Willow Song," an unaffected melody as simple and characteristic as a folk-song. Emilia retires, and by a natural transition Desdemona sings an "Ave Maria," which is as simple and beautiful in its way as the "Willow Song." She retires to her couch, and in the silence Othello steals in, dagger in hand, the contra-basses giving out a sombre and deep-toned accompaniment which is startling in its effect. He kisses her, the motive from the love-duet appearing in the orchestra; then, after a hurried dialogue, stifles her. He then kills himself, his last words being a repetition of those in the duet, while the strings tenderly give out the melody again.