The Standard Operas Part 3

Leo Delibes, the French composer, was born at St. Germain du Val in 1836, and was graduated at the Paris Conservatory, where he reached high distinction. His first work, written in 1855, was an operetta ent.i.tled "Deux Sous de Carbon;" but he did not make his mark until his "Maitre Griffard" was produced at the Theatre Lyrique in 1857. In 1865 he was appointed Chorus-master at the Opera, and there his real career began. His first great triumph was in ballet-music, which has ever since been his specialty. His first ballet, "La Source," was produced at the Opera, Nov. 12, 1865, and delighted all Paris. It was followed by a divertis.e.m.e.nt for the revival of Adam's "Corsaire" (1867), the ballet "Coppelia" (1870), a three-act opera "Le Roi l'a dit" (1873), and the exquisite ballet in three acts and five tableaux, "Sylvia"

(1876), with which Theodore Thomas has made American audiences familiar. His opera "Lakme" was written in 1879.

LAKME.

The romantic opera, "Lakme," written in 1879, was first performed in this country by the American Opera Company in 1886, Mme. L'Allemand taking the t.i.tle-role. The princ.i.p.al characters are Lakme, daughter of Nilakantha, an Indian priest, Gerald and Frederick, officers of the British Army, Ellen and Rose, daughters of the Viceroy, and Mrs.

Benson, governess. The scene is laid in India. Nilakantha cherishes a fond hatred of all foreigners. The two English officers, Gerald and Frederick, accompanied by a bevy of ladies, intrude upon his sacred grounds. They stroll about and gradually retire, but Gerald remains to sketch some jewels, which Lakme has left upon a shrine while she goes flower-gathering with her slave Mallika, evidently also to await developments when she returns. Lakme soon comes sailing in on her boat, and there is a desperate case of love at first sight. Their demonstrations of affection are soon interrupted by the appearance of the priest, whose anger Gerald escapes by fleeing, under cover of a convenient thunder-storm. In the next act Lakme and her father appear in the public market-place, disguised as penitents. He compels his daughter to sing, hoping that her face and voice will induce her lover to disclose himself. The ruse proves successful. Nilakantha waits his opportunity, and stealing upon his enemy stabs him in the back and makes good his escape. In the third act we find Gerald in a delightful jungle, where Lakme has in some manner managed to conceal him, and where she is carefully nursing him with the hope of permanently retaining his love. She saves his life; but just at this juncture, and while she is absent to obtain a draught of the water which, according to the Indian legend, will make earthly love eternal, Gerald hears the music of his regiment, and Frederick appears and urges him back to duty. His allegiance to his queen, and possibly the remembrance of his engagement to a young English girl, prove stronger than his love for Lakme. The latter returns, discovers his faithlessness, gathers some poisonous flowers, whose juices she drinks, and dies in Gerald's arms just as the furious father appears. As one victim is sufficient to appease the anger of Nilakantha's G.o.ds, Gerald is allowed to go unharmed.

The first act opens with a chorus of Hindoos, oriental in its character, followed by a duet between Lakme and her father; the scene closing with a sacred chant. The Hindoos gone, there is a charming oriental duet ("'Neath yon Dome where Jasmines with the Roses are blooming") between Lakme and her slave, which is one of the gems of the opera. The English then appear and have a long, talky scene, relieved by a pretty song for Frederick ("I would not give a Judgment so absurd"), and another for Gerald ("Cheating Fancy coming to mislead me"). As Lakme enters, Gerald conceals himself. She lays her flowers at the base of the shrine and sings a restless love-song ("Why love I thus to stray?"). Gerald discovers himself, and after a colloquy sings his ardent love-song ("The G.o.d of Truth so glowing"), and the act closes with Nilakantha's threats.

The second act opens in the market square, lively with the choruses of Hindoos, Chinamen, fruit-venders, and sailors, and later on with the adventures of the English party in the crowd. Nilakantha appears and addresses his daughter in a very pathetic aria ("Lakme, thy soft Looks are over-clouded"). Soon follows Lakme's bell-song ("Where strays the Hindoo Maiden?"), a brilliant and highly embellished aria with tinkling accompaniment, which will always be a favorite. The recognition follows; and the remaining numbers of importance are an impa.s.sioned song by Gerald ("Ah! then 't is slumbering Love"), with a mysterious response by Lakme ("In the Forest near at Hand"). A ballet, followed by the stabbing of Gerald, closes the act.

In the third act the action hastens to the tragic denouement. It opens with a beautiful crooning song by Lakme ("'Neath the Dome of Moon and Star") as she watches her sleeping lover. The remaining numbers of interest are Gerald's song ("Tho' speechless I, my Heart remembers"), followed by a pretty three-part chorus in the distance and Lakme's dying measures, "To me the fairest Dream thou 'st given," and "Farewell, the Dream is over." Though the opera is monotonous from sameness of color and lack of dramatic interest, there are many numbers which leave a charming impression by their grace, refinement, and genuine poetical effect.

DONIZETTI.

Gaetano Donizetti was born at Bergamo, Italy, Sept. 25, 1798. He studied music both at Bologna and Naples, and then entered the army rather than subject himself to the caprice of his father, who was determined that he should devote himself to church music. While his regiment was at Naples he wrote his first opera, "Enrico di Borgogna"

(1818), which was soon followed by a second, "Il Falegname de Livonia." The success of the latter was so great that it not only freed him from military service but gained him the honor of being crowned. The first opera which spread his reputation through Europe was "Anna Bolena," produced at Milan in 1830, and written for Pasta and Rubini. Two years afterwards, "L' Elisir d' Amore" appeared, which he is said to have written in fifteen days. He wrote with great facility. "Il Furioso," "Parisina," "Torquato Ta.s.so," "Lucrezia Borgia," and "Gemma di Vergi" rapidly followed one another. In 1835 he brought out "Marino Faliero," but its success was small. Ample compensation was made, however, when in the same year "Lucia" appeared and was received with acclamations of delight. He was invited to Paris as the successor of Rossini, and wrote his "Marino Faliero" for the Theatre des Italiens. In 1840 he revisited Paris and produced "Il Poliuto," "La Fille du Regiment," and "La Favorita." Leaving Paris he visited Rome, Milan, and Vienna, bringing out "Linda di Chamouni" in the latter city. Returning to Paris again, he produced "Don Pasquale"

at the Theatre des Italiens and "Don Sebastien" at the Academie, the latter proving a failure. His last opera, "Catarina Comaro," was brought out at Naples in 1844. This work also was a failure. It was evident that his capacity for work was over. He grew sad and melancholy, and during the last three years of his life was attacked by fits of abstraction which gradually intensified and ended in insanity and physical paralysis. He died at Bergamo, April 8, 1848.

THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT.

"The Daughter of the Regiment" ("La Fille du Regiment") opera comique in two acts, words by Bayard and St. Georges, was first produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, Feb. 11, 1840, with Mme. Anna Thillon in the role of Marie. Its first performance in English was at the Surrey Theatre, London, Dec. 21, 1847, under the t.i.tle of "The Daughter of the Regiment," in which form it is best known in this country. In 1847 it was performed as an Italian opera in London, with added recitatives, and with Jenny Lind in the leading part.

The music of the opera is light and sparkling, the princ.i.p.al interest centring in the charming nature of the story and its humorous situations, which afford capital opportunities for comedy acting. The scene is laid in the Tyrol during its occupation by the French. Marie, the heroine, and the vivandiere of the Twenty-first regiment of Napoleon's army, was adopted as the Daughter of the Regiment, because she was found on the field, after a battle, by Sergeant Sulpice. On her person was affixed a letter written by her father to the Marchioness of Berkenfeld, which has been carefully preserved by the Sergeant. At the beginning of the opera the little waif has grown into a sprightly young woman, full of mischief and spirit, as is shown by her opening song ("The Camp was my Birthplace"), in which she tells the story of her life, and by the duet with Sulpice, known the world over as "The Rataplan," which is of a very animated, stirring, and martial character, to the accompaniment of rattling drums and sonorous bra.s.ses. She is the special admiration of Tony, a Tyrolean peasant, who has saved her from falling over a precipice. The soldiers of the regiment are profuse in their grat.i.tude to her deliverer, and celebrate her rescue with ample potations, during which Marie sings the Song of the Regiment ("All Men confess it"). Poor Tony, however, who was found strolling in the camp, is placed under arrest as a spy, though he succeeds in obtaining an interview with Marie and declares his love for her. The declaration is followed by a charming duet ("No longer can I doubt it"). Tony manages to clear up his record, and the soldiers decide that he may have Marie's hand if he will consent to join them. He blithely accepts the condition and dons the French c.o.c.kade. Everything seems auspicious, when suddenly the Marchioness of Berkenfeld appears and dashes Tony's hopes to the ground. The Sergeant, as in honor bound, delivers the letter he has been preserving. After reading it she claims Marie as her niece, and demands that the regiment shall give up its daughter, while Tony is incontinently dismissed as an unsuitable person to be connected in any capacity with her n.o.ble family. Marie sings a touching adieu to her comrades ("Farewell, a long Farewell"), and the act closes with smothered imprecations on the Marchioness by the soldiers, and protestations of undying love by Tony.

The second act opens in the castle of Berkenfeld, where Marie is duly installed, though she does not take very kindly to her change of surroundings. The old Sergeant is with her. Grand company is expected, and the Marchioness desires Marie to rehea.r.s.e a romance ("The Light of Early Days was breaking"), which she is to sing to them.

Before she finishes it she and the Sergeant break out into the rollicking Rataplan and go through with the military evolutions, to the horror of the Marchioness. While regret for the absent Tony keeps her in a sad mood, she is suddenly cheered up by the sound of drums and fifes, announcing the approach of soldiers. They are the gallant Twenty-first, with Tony, now a colonel, at their head. He applies once more for Marie's hand. The soldiers also put in a spirited choral appeal ("We have come, our Child to free"). The Marchioness again refuses. Tony proposes an elopement, to which Marie, in resentment at her aunt's cruelty, consents. To thwart their plans, the Marchioness reveals to Marie that early in life she had been secretly married to an officer of lower family position than her own, and that this officer was Marie's father. Unable to dispute the wishes of her mother, she renounces Tony in an agony of grief. At last Marie's sorrow arouses old a.s.sociations in the mind of the Marchioness, and she consents to the union of Tony and Marie.

While the music of the opera is light, it is none the less very attractive, and the work is nearly always popular when performed by good artists, owing to the comedy strength of the three leading parts, Marie, Tony, and the Sergeant. The role of the heroine, small as it is, has always been a favorite one with such great artists as Jenny Lind, Patti, Sontag, and Albani, while in this country Miss Kellogg and Mrs. Richings-Bernard made great successes in the part. The latter singer, indeed, and her father, whose personation of the Sergeant was very remarkable, were among the first to perform the work in the United States.

LA FAVORITA.

"La Favorita," an opera in four acts, words by Royer and Waetz, the subject taken from the French drama, "Le Comte de Commingues," was first produced at the Academie, Paris, Dec. 2, 1840, with Mme. Stolz as Leonora, Duprez as Fernando, and Baroelhst as Balthasar. Its success in England, where it was first produced Feb. 16, 1847, was made by Grisi and Mario. The scene of the opera is laid in Spain, and the first act opens in the convent of St. James, of Compostella, where the young novice, Fernando, is about to take monastic vows. Before the rites take place he is seized with a sudden pa.s.sion for Leonora, a beautiful maiden who has been worshipping in the cloisters. He confesses his love to Balthasar, the superior, who orders him to leave the convent and go out into the world. Leonora, meanwhile, is beloved by Alphonso, king of Castile, who has provided her a secret retreat on the island of St. Leon. Though threatened by the pontiff with excommunication, he has resolved to repudiate his queen, in order that he may carry out his intention of marrying the beautiful Leonora. To her asylum a bevy of maidens conducts Fernando. He declares his pa.s.sion for her and finds it reciprocated. He urges her to fly with him, but she declares it impossible, and giving him a commission in the army signed by the King, urges him to go to the wars and win honors for her sake.

In the second act Balthasar, in the name of the pontiff, visits their retreat and p.r.o.nounces the papal anathema upon the guilty pair. The same curse is threatened to all the attendants unless Leonora is driven from the King, and the act closes with their vengeful menaces.

In the third act Fernando returns victorious from the war with the Moors. Already beginning to fear the result of the papal malediction, and having learned of Leonora's pa.s.sion for the victor, Alphonso heaps rewards upon him, even to the extent of giving him Leonora's hand.

Fernando, who is ignorant of her past relations to the King, eagerly accepts the proffer; but Leonora, in despair, sends her attendant, Inez, to inform him of the real nature of the situation and implore his forgiveness. The King intercepts her, and the marriage takes place at once, Fernando not discovering Leonora's shame until it is revealed by the courtiers, who avoid him. He flies from the world to the convent once more for shelter and consolation, followed by Leonora, who dies in his arms after she has obtained forgiveness.

The music of the work is very dramatic in its character, some of the finales being the strongest Donizetti has written. In the first act there is a beautifully melodious aria ("Una Vergine"), in which Fernando describes to Balthasar the vision of Leonora which had appeared to him at his orisons, and a very tender duet ("Deh, vanne!

deh, parti") between Fernando and Leonora, in which they sorrowfully part from each other. In the second act the King has a very pa.s.sionate aria, where he curses his courtiers for leaguing against him at Rome, followed by a very dramatic duet with Leonora ("Ah! l'alto ardor").

The third act contains the beautiful aria, "O mio Fernando!" which is a favorite with all contraltos. It is remarkable for its warmth and richness, as well as its dramatic spirit, and the act closes with a concerted finale of splendid power, in which Fernando breaks his sword, and once more Balthasar anathematizes the King. The fourth act is the most beautiful of all in its music and the most powerful in dramatic effect. The chorus of monks in the first scene ("Scaviam l'asilo") is remarkable for its religious character and solemnity. In the third scene occurs one of the tenderest and loveliest romanzas ever written ("Spirto gentil"), which Donizetti transferred to this work from his opera, "Le Duc d'Albe," which had not been performed, and the libretto of which was originally written by Scribe for Rossini. The closing duet between Fernando and Leonora is full of pathos and beauty, and forms a fitting close to an act which, in one sense at least, is an inspiration, as the whole act was composed in four hours,--a proof of the marvellous ease and facility with which Donizetti wrote.

DON PASQUALE.

"Don Pasquale," an opera buffa in three acts, was first produced at the Theatre des Italiens in Paris, Jan. 4, 1843, with the following extraordinary cast:

NORINA Mme. GRISI.

ERNESTO Sig. MARIO.

DR. MALATESTA Sig. TAMBURINI.

DON PASQUALE Sig. LABLACHE.

The scene of this brilliant and gay little opera is laid in Rome. Don Pasquale is in a rage with Ernesto, his nephew, because he will not marry to suit him. Dr. Malatesta, his friend and physician, who is also very much attached to the nephew, contrives a plot in the latter's interest. He visits the Don, and urges him to marry a lady, pretending that she is his sister, though in reality she is Norina, with whom Ernesto is in love. He then calls upon Norina, and lets her into the secret of the plot, and instructs her how to play her part.

She is to consent to the marriage contract, and then so hara.s.s the Don that he will not only be glad to get rid of her, but will give his consent to her marriage with Ernesto. The second act opens in Don Pasquale's house, where Ernesto is bewailing his fate. The Don enters, magnificently dressed, and ready for the marriage. Norina appears with Malatesta, and feigns reluctance to enter into the contract; but when the notary arrives she consents to sign. No sooner, however, has she signed it than she drops her a.s.sumed modesty. Ernesto, who is present, is bewildered at the condition of affairs, but is kept quiet by a sign from the Doctor. Norina refuses all the Don's amatory demonstrations, and declares Ernesto shall be her escort. She summons the servants, and lays out a scheme of housekeeping so extravagant that the Don is enraged, and declares he will not pay the bills. She insists he shall, for she is now master of the house. In the third act we find Norina entertaining milliners and modistes. Don Pasquale enters, and learning that she is going to the theatre forbids it, which leads to a quarrel, during which Norina boxes his ears. As she leaves the room she drops a letter, the reading of which adds the pangs of jealousy to his other troubles. The Doctor at this juncture happens in and condoles with him. The Don insists that Norina shall quit his house at once. In the next scene he taxes her with having a lover concealed in the house, and orders her to leave. The Doctor counsels him to let his nephew marry Norina; and in the course of explanations the Don discovers that the Doctor's sister and Norina are one and the same person, and that the marriage was a sham. He is only too glad of an escape to quarrel with the Doctor for his plot, and the young couple are speedily united, and have the old man's blessing.

The charm of the opera lies in its comic situations, and the gay, bright music with which they are ill.u.s.trated. It is replete with humor and spirit, and flows along in such a bright stream that it is almost impossible to cull out special numbers, though it contains two duets and a quartet which are of more than ordinary beauty, and the exquisite serenade in the last act, "Com'e gentil," which has been heard on almost every concert-stage of the world, and still holds its place in universal popular esteem. For brilliant gayety it stands in the front rank of all comic operas, though Donizetti was but three weeks in writing it. It is said that when it was in rehearsal its fate was uncertain. The orchestra and singers received it very coldly; but when the rehearsal was over, Donizetti merely shrugged his shoulders and remarked to his friend, M. Dormoy, the publisher: "Let them alone; they know nothing about it. I know what is the matter with 'Don Pasquale.' Come with me." They went to the composer's house. Rummaging among a pile of ma.n.u.scripts, Donizetti pulled out a song. "This is what 'Don Pasquale' wants," he said. "Take it to Mario and tell him to learn it at once." Mario obeyed, and when the opera was performed sang it to the accompaniment of a tambourine, which Lablache played behind the scenes. The opera was a success at once, and no song has ever been more popular.

In strange contrast with the gay humor of "Don Pasquale," it may be stated that in the same year Donizetti wrote the mournful "Don Sebastian," which has been described as "a funeral in five acts."

Crowest, in his "Anecdotes," declares that the serenade is suggestive of Highland music, and that many of his other operas are Scottish in color. He accounts for this upon the theory that the composer was of Scotch descent, his grandfather having been a native of Perthshire, by the name of Izett, and that his father, who married an Italian lady, was Donald Izett. The change from Donald Izett to Donizetti was an easy one. The story, however, is of doubtful authenticity.

LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.

"Lucia di Lammermoor," an opera in three acts, words by Cammarano, was first produced at Naples in 1835, with Mme. Persiani and Sig. Duprez, for whom the work was written, in the princ.i.p.al roles of Lucia and Edgardo. Its first presentation at Paris was Aug. 10, 1839; in London, April 5, 1838; and in English, at the Princess Theatre, London, Jan.

19, 1843. The subject of the opera is taken from Sir Walter Scott's novel, "The Bride of Lammermoor," and the scene is laid in Scotland, time, about 1669.

Sir Henry Ashton, of Lammermoor, brother of Lucy, the heroine, has arranged a marriage between her and Lord Arthur Bucklaw, in order to recover the fortune which he has dissipated, and to save himself from political peril he has incurred by his partic.i.p.ation in movements against the reigning dynasty. Sir Edgar Ravenswood, with whom he is at enmity, is deeply attached to Lucy, who reciprocates his love, and on the eve of his departure on an emba.s.sy to France pledges herself to him. During his absence Edgar's letters are intercepted by her brother, who hints to her of his infidelity, and finally shows her a forged paper which she accepts as the proof that he is untrue.

Overcome with grief at her lover's supposed unfaithfulness, and yielding to the pressure of her brother's necessities, she at last consents to her union with Lord Arthur. The marriage contract is signed with great ceremony, and just as she has placed her name to the fatal paper, Edgar suddenly appears. Learning from Lucy what she has done, he tramples the contract under foot, hurls an imprecation upon the house of Lammermoor, and bursts out of the room in a terrible rage. Sir Henry follows him, and a fierce quarrel ensues, which ends in a challenge. Meanwhile, at night, after the newly wedded couple have retired, a noise is heard in their apartment. The attendants rush in and find Lord Arthur dying from wounds inflicted by Lucy, whose grief has made her insane. When she returns to reason, the thought of what she has done and the horror of her situation overcome her, and shortly death puts an end to her wretchedness. Ignorant of her fate, Edgar goes to the churchyard of Ravenswood, which has been selected as the rendezvous for the duel with Sir Henry. While impatiently waiting his appearance, the bell of the castle tolls, and some of the attendants accosting him bring the news of her death. The despairing lover kills himself among the graves of his ancestors, and the sombre story ends.

The popular verdict has stamped "Lucia" as Donizetti's masterpiece, and if the consensus of musicians could be obtained, it would unquestionably confirm the verdict. It contains incomparably the grandest of his arias for tenor, the Tomb song in the last act, and one of the finest dramatic concerted numbers, the s.e.xtet in the second act, that can be found in any Italian opera. Like the quartet in "Rigoletto," it stands out in such bold relief, and is so thoroughly original and spontaneous, that it may be cla.s.sed as an inspiration.

The music throughout is of the most sombre character. It does not contain a joyous phrase. And yet it can never be charged with monotony. Every aria, though its tone is serious and more often melancholy, has its own characteristics, and the climaxes are worked up with great power. In the first act, for instance, the contrasts are very marked between Henry's aria ("Cruda, funesta smania"), the chorus of hunters ("Come vinti da stanchezza"), Henry's second aria ("La pietade in suo favore"), in which he threatens vengeance upon Edgar, the dramatic and beautifully written arias for Lucy, "Regnava nel silenzio" and "Quando rapita in estasi," and the pa.s.sionate farewell duet between Lucy and Edgar, which is the very ecstasy of commingled love and sorrow. The second act contains a powerful duet ("Le tradirmi tu potrai") between Lucy and Henry; but the musical interest of the act centres in the great s.e.xtet, "Chi mi frena," which ensues when Edgar makes his unexpected appearance upon the scene of the marriage contract. For beauty, power, richness of melody and dramatic expression, few concerted numbers by any composer can rival it. The last act also contains two numbers which are always the delight of great artists,--the mad song of Lucy, "Oh, gioja che si senti," and the magnificent tomb scena, "Tomba degl'avi miei," which affords even the most accomplished tenor ample scope for his highest powers.

L'ELISIR D'AMORE.

"L'Elisir d'Amore," an opera buffa in two acts, words by Romani, was first produced in Milan, in 1832, and in English, at Drury Lane, in 1839, as "The Love Spell." The heroine of this graceful little opera is Adina, a capricious country girl, who is loved by Nemorino, a young farmer, whose uncle lies at the point of death, and by Belcore, a sergeant, whose troops are billeted upon the neighboring village.

While Adina keeps both these suitors in suspense, Dr. Dulcamara, a travelling quack, arrives at the village in great state to vend his nostrums. Nemorino applies to him for a bottle of the Elixir of Love,--with the magical properties of which he has become acquainted in a romance Adina has been reading that very morning. The mountebank, of course, has no such liquid, but he pa.s.ses off on the simple peasant a bottle of wine, and a.s.sures him that if he drinks of it he can command the love of any one on the morrow. To thoroughly test its efficacy, Nemorino drinks the whole of it. When he encounters Adina he is half tipsy, and accosts her in such disrespectful style that she becomes enraged, and determines to give her hand to the sergeant, and promises to marry him in a week. Meanwhile an order comes for the departure of the sergeant's detachment, and he begs her to marry him the same day. She gives her consent, and the second act opens with the a.s.sembling of the villagers to witness the signing of the marriage contract. While the sergeant, Adina, and the notary have retired to sign and witness the contract, Nemorino enters in despair, and finding Dulcamara enjoying a repast, he implores him to give him some charm that will make Adina love him at once. Having no money, the quack refuses to a.s.sist him, and Nemorino is again plunged into despair. At this juncture the sergeant enters, not in the best of humor, for Adina has declined to sign the contract until evening. Discovering that Nemorino wants money, he urges him to enlist. The bonus of twenty crowns is a temptation. Nemorino enlists, takes the money, hurries to the quack, and obtains a second bottle of the elixir, which is much more powerful than the first. In the next scene the girls of the village have discovered that Nemorino's uncle has died and left him all the property, though Nemorino himself has not heard of it. They crowd about him, trying to attract his attention with their charms and blandishments. He attributes his sudden popularity to the effects of the elixir, and even the quack is somewhat bewildered at the remarkable change. Nemorino now determines to pay Adina off in kind, and at last rouses her jealousy. Meanwhile Dulcamara acquaints her with the effects of the elixir and advises her to try some of it, and during the interview inadvertently informs her of Nemorino's attachment for her. Struck with his devotion, she repays the sergeant herself, announces her change of mind, and bestows her hand upon the faithful Nemorino. Like "Don Pasquale," the opera is exceedingly graceful in its construction, and very bright and gay in its musical effects, particularly in the duets, of which there are two,--one between Dulcamara and Nemorino in the first act ("Obbligato, ah! si obbligato"), and one between Dulcamara and Adina in the second act ("Quanto amore! ed io spietata"), which are charming in their spirit and humor. There is also an admirable buffo song in the first act, beginning with the recitative, "Udite, udite, o rustici," in which the Doctor describes his wares to the rustics, and a beautiful romanza in the second act for tenor ("Una furtiva lagrima"), which is of world-wide popularity, and bears the same relation to the general setting of the work that the Serenade does to "Don Pasquale."

LUCREZIA BORGIA.

"Lucrezia Borgia," an opera in three acts, words by Romani, was first produced at La Scala, Milan, in 1834. The subject was taken from Victor Hugo's tragedy of the same name, and its text was freely adapted by Romani. When it was produced in Paris, in 1840, Victor Hugo took steps to suppress any further representations. The libretto was then rewritten, under the t.i.tle of "La Rinegata," the Italian characters were changed to Turks, and in this mutilated form the performances were resumed. It was in this opera that Signor Mario made his English debut, in 1839, with great success. Its first presentation in English was at London, Dec. 30, 1843.

The history of Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Rodrigo Borgia, afterwards Pope Alexander VI., and sister of Caesar Borgia, is too well known to need recapitulation. It is necessary to the comprehension of the story of the opera, however, to state that she had an illegitimate son, named Genarro, who was left when an infant with a fisherman, but who subsequently entered the Venetian army and rose to an eminent rank.

The opera opens with a brilliant festival in the gardens of the Barberigo Palace, which is attended by Genarro, Orsini, and others, all of them cordial haters of the detestable Borgias. While they are telling tales of Lucrezia's cruel deeds, Genarro lies down and goes to sleep, and Orsini in a spirited aria ("Nelle fatal di Rimini") relates to his companions the story of Genarro's gallantry at the battle of Rimini. As they leave, Lucrezia approaches, masked, in a gondola, and is received by Gubetta, with whom she has come to Venice on some secret errand. She discovers Genarro asleep, and expresses her delight at his beauty, and at the same time her maternal love, in a brilliant aria ("Com'e bello"). As she kisses his hand he wakes, and in the duet which follows tells her the story of his early life in an exquisite romanza ("Di pescatore ign.o.bile"), which is one of the most familiar numbers in Italian opera. He begs her to reveal her name, but she refuses. As he continues to implore her, his friends return and denounce her to Genarro as the hated Borgia, in a concerted number ("Chi siam noi sol chiarirla") of great dramatic power, which closes the first act.

The second act opens in the public square of Ferrara, with the palace of the Borgias on the right. The Duke Alphonso, Lucrezia's husband, who has been observant of Lucrezia's attachment to Genarro, vows vengeance in a pa.s.sionate aria ("Vieni la mia vendetta"). In the next scene Genarro, who has been taunted by his friends with being a victim of Lucrezia's fascinations, recklessly rushes up to the palace door and strikes off the first letter of her name with his dagger. When Lucrezia discovers the insult, she demands of the Duke that the guilty person shall be arrested and condemned to death. The Duke has already seized Genarro, and agrees to carry out his wife's demands. When the prisoner is brought before them for judgment, she is horror-stricken to find he is her son. She implores his life, but the infuriated Duke retaliates upon her with the declaration that she is his paramour. The duet between them ("O! a te bada"), in which Lucrezia pa.s.ses from humble entreaties to rage and menace, is a fine instance of Donizetti's dramatic power. The Duke, however, is resolute in his determination, and will only allow her to choose the mode of Genarro's death. She selects the Borgia wine, which is poisoned. Genarro is called in, and after a trio ("Le ti tradisce"), which is one of the strongest numbers in the opera, he is given the fatal draught under the pretence of a farewell greeting from the Duke, who then leaves mother and son together. She gives him an antidote, and he is thus saved from the fate which the Duke had intended for him.

The last act opens at a banquet in the palace of the Princess Negroni, which is attended by Genarro and his friends, Lucrezia, meanwhile, supposing that he has gone to Venice. During the repast she has managed to poison their wine. In the midst of the gay revel Orsini sings the popular drinking-song, "Il segreto per esser felici," which is now familiar the world over. The festivities are interrupted, however, by the appearance of Lucrezia, who reveals herself with the taunting declaration: "Yes, I am Borgia. A mournful dance ye gave me in Venice, and I return ye a supper in Ferrara." She then announces that they are poisoned. The music is changed with great skill from the wild revelry of drinking-songs to the sombre strains of approaching death. Five coffins are shown them, when Genarro suddenly reveals himself to Lucrezia and asks for the sixth. The horror-stricken woman again perceives that her son has been poisoned by her own hand. As his companions leave the apartment she implores Genarro to take the antidote once more, and at last reveals herself as his mother. He steadily refuses to save himself, however, since his companions have to die, and expires in her arms just as the Duke and his followers enter. She discloses Genarro's relationship, and then dies with the despairing cry on her lips that Heaven has p.r.o.nounced its final judgment upon her. Among all of Donizetti's operas, not one, unless it be "Lucia," is more popular than "Lucrezia Borgia," which may be attributed to the fact that while the story itself is one of fascinating dramatic interest, the musical numbers are simple, beautiful, and effective.