Act IV. A square in Seville. At the back the entrance to the arena. It

is the day of the bullfight. The square is animated. Watersellers, others with oranges, fans, and other articles. Chorus. Ballet.

Gay the crowd that fills the square outside the arena where the bullfights are held. It cheers the first strains of music heard as the festival procession approaches, and it shouts and applauds as the various divisions go by and pass into the arena: "The Aguacil on horseback!"--"The chulos with their pretty little flags!"--"Look! The bandilleros, all clad in green and spangles, and waving the crimson cloths!"--"The picadors with the pointed lances!"--"The cuadrilla of toreros!"--"Now! Vivo, vivo! Escamillo!" And a great shout goes up, as the _Toreador_ enters, with _Carmen_ on his arm.

There is a brief but beautiful duet for _Escamillo_ and _Carmen_, "Si tu m'aimes, Carmen" (If you love me, Carmen), before he goes into the building to make ready for the bullfight, while she waits to be joined by some of the smugglers and gypsies, whom _Escamillo_ has invited to be witnesses, with her, of his prowess.

As the Alcalde crosses the square and enters the arena, and the crowd pours in after him, one of the gypsy girls from the smugglers' band whispers to _Carmen_:

"If you value your life, Carmen, don't stay here. He is lurking in the crowd and watching you."

"He?--José?--I am no coward.--I fear no one.--If he is here, we will have it over with now," she answers, defiantly, motioning to the girl to pass on into the arena into which the square is rapidly emptying itself. _Carmen_ lingers until she is the only one left, then, with a shrug of contempt, turns to enter--but finds herself facing _Don José_, who has slunk out from one of the side streets to intercept her.

"I was told you were here. I was even warned to leave here, because my life was in danger. If the hour has come, well, so be it. But, live or die, yours I shall never be again."

Her speech is abrupt, rapid, but there is no tremor of fear in her voice.

_Don José_ is pale and haggard. His eyes are hollow, but they glow with a dangerous light. His plight has passed from the pitiable to the desperate stage.

"Carmen," he says hoarsely, "leave with me. Begin life over again with me under another sky. I will adore you so, it will make you love me."

"You never can make me love you again. No one can _make_ me do anything. Free I was born, free I die."

The band in the arena strikes up a fanfare. There are loud vivos for _Escamillo_. _Carmen_ starts to rush for the entrance. Driven to the fury of despair, his knife drawn, as it had been when he barred her way in the smugglers' camp, _Don José_ confronts her. He laughs grimly.

"The man for whom they are shouting--he is the one for whom you have deserted me!"

"Let me pass!" is her defiant answer.

"That you may tell him how you have spurned me, and laugh with him over my misery!"

Again the crowd in the arena shouts: "Victory! Victory! Vivo, vivo, Escamillo, the toreador of Granada!"

A cry of triumph escapes _Carmen_.

"You love him!" hisses _Don José_.

"Yes, I love him! If I must die for it, I love him! Victory for Escamillo, victory! I go to the victor of the arena!"

She makes a dash for the entrance. Somehow she manages to get past the desperate man who has stood between her and the gates. She reaches the steps, her foot already touches the landing above them, when he overtakes her, and madly plunges his knife into her back. With a shriek heard above the shouts of the crowd within, she staggers, falls, and rolls lifeless down the steps into the square.

The doors of the arena swing open. Acclaiming the prowess of _Escamillo_, out pours the crowd, suddenly to halt, hushed and horror-stricken, at the body of a woman dead at the foot of the steps.

"I am your prisoner," says _Don José_ to an officer. "I killed her." Then, throwing himself over the body, he cries:

"Carmen!--Carmen! I love you!--Speak to me!--I adore you!"

* * * * *

At its production at the Opéra Comique, "Carmen" was a failure. In view of the world-wide popularity the work was to achieve, that failure has become historic. It had, however, one lamentable result. Bizet, utterly depressed and discouraged, died exactly three months after the production, and before he could have had so much as an inkling of the success "Carmen" was to obtain. It was not until four months after his death that the opera, produced in Vienna, celebrated its first triumph. Then came Brussels, London, New York. At last, in 1883, "Carmen" was brought back to Paris for what Pierre Berton calls "the brilliant reparation." But Bizet, mortally wounded in his pride as an artist, had died disconsolate. The "reparation" was to the public, not to him.

Whoever will take the trouble to read extracts from the reviews in the Paris press of the first performance of "Carmen" will find that the score of this opera, so full of well-rounded, individual, and distinctive melodies--ensemble, concerted, and solo--was considered too Wagnerian. More than one trace of this curious attitude toward an opera, in which the melodies, or tunes, if you choose so to call them, crowd upon each other almost as closely as in "Il Trovatore," and certainly are as numerous as in "Aïda," still can be found in the article on "Carmen" in the _Dictionnaire des Opéras_, one of the most unsatisfactory essays in that work. Nor, speaking with the authority of Berton, who saw the second performance, was the failure due to defects in the cast. He speaks of Galli-Marié (_Carmen_), Chapuis (_Micaela_), Lherie (_Don José_), and Bouhy (_Escamillo_), as "equal to their tasks ... an admirable quartet."

America has had its _Carmen_ periods. Minnie Hauck established an individuality in the rôle, which remained potent until the appearance in this country of Calvé. When Grau wanted to fill the house, all he had to do was to announce Calvé as _Carmen_. She so dominated the character with her beauty, charm, _diablerie_, and vocal art that, after she left the Metropolitan Opera House, it became impossible to revive the opera there with success, until Farrar made her appearance in it, November 19, 1914, with Alda as _Micaela_, Caruso as _Don José_, and Amato as _Escamillo_.

A season or two before Oscar Hammerstein gave "Carmen" at the Manhattan Opera House, a French company, which was on its last legs when it struck New York, appeared in a performance of "Carmen" at the Casino, and the next day went into bankruptcy. The _Carmen_ was Bressler-Gianoli. Her interpretation brought out the coarse fibre in the character, and was so much the opposite of Calvé's, that it was interesting by contrast. It seemed that had the company been able to survive, "Carmen" could have been featured in its repertoire, by reason of Bressler-Gianoli's grasp of the character as Mérimée had drawn it in his novel, where _Carmen_ is of a much coarser personality than in the opera. The day after the performance I went to see Heinrich Conried, then director of the Metropolitan Opera House, and told him of the impression she had made, but he did not engage her. The _Carmen_ of Bressler-Gianoli (with Dalmorès, Trentini, Ancona, and Gilibert) was one of the principal successes of the Manhattan Opera House. It was first given December 14, 1906, and scored the record for the season with nineteen performances, "Aïda" coming next with twelve, and "Rigoletto" with eleven.

Mary Garden's _Carmen_ is distinctive and highly individualized on the acting side. It lacks however the lusciousness of voice, the vocal lure, that a singer must lavish upon the rôle to make it a complete success.

One of the curiosities of opera in America was the appearance at the Metropolitan Opera House, November 25, 1885, of Lilli Lehmann as _Carmen_.

A word is due Bizet's authors for the admirable libretto they have made from Mérimée's novel. The character of _Carmen_ is, of course, the creation of the novelist. But in his book the _Toreador_ is not introduced until almost the very end, and is but one of a succession of lovers whom _Carmen_ has had since she ensnared _Don José_. In the opera the _Toreador_ is made a principal character, and figures prominently from the second act on. _Micaela_, so essential for contrast in the opera, both as regards plot and music, is a creation of the librettists. But their master-stroke is the placing of the scene of the murder just outside the arena where the bullfight is in progress, and in having _Carmen_ killed by _Don José_ at the moment _Escamillo_ is acclaimed victor by the crowd within. In the book he slays her on a lonely road outside the city of Cordova the day after the bullfight.

LES PÊCHEURS DE PERLES

THE PEARL FISHERS

Besides "Carmen," Bizet was the composer of "Les Pêcheurs de Perles" (The Pearl Fishers) and "Djamileh."

"Les Pêcheurs de Perles," the words by Carré and Cormon, is in three acts. It was produced at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, September 29, 1863. London saw it under the title of "Leila," April 22, 1887, at Covent Garden; as "Pescatori di Perle," May 18, 1899. The New York production was at the Metropolitan Opera House, January 11, 1896, with Calvé; and November 13, 1916, with Caruso. The scene is Ceylon, the period barbaric.

The first act shows a company of pearl fishers on the coast. They choose _Zurga_ as chief. He and his friend _Nadir_, in the duet, "Au fond du temple saint" (In the depths of the temple), recall their former rivalry for the hand of the beautiful priestess, _Leila_, and how they swore never to see her again.

Now approaches a veiled priestess who comes annually to pray for the success of the pearl fishers. She prays to Brahma. _Nadir_ recognizes _Leila_. His love for her at once revives. She goes into the temple. He sings "Je crois entendre encore" (I hear as in a dream). When she returns and again invokes the aid of Brahma, she manages to convey to _Nadir_ the knowledge that she has recognized and still loves him.

In the second act, in a ruined temple, the high priest, _Nourabad_, warns her, on pain of death, to be faithful to her religious vows. _Leila_ tells him he need have no fear. She never breaks a promise. The necklace she wears was given her by a fugitive, whose hiding place she refused to reveal, although the daggers of his pursuers were pointed at her heart. She had promised not to betray him. Her solo, "Comme autrefois," etc. (A fugitive one day), is followed by the retirement of the priest, and the entrance of _Nadir_. There is an impassioned love duet, the effect of which is heightened by a raging storm without: "Ton coeur n'a pas compris" (You have not understood). _Nourabad_, returning unexpectedly, overhears the lovers, and summons the people. _Zurga_, as chief and judge, desires to be merciful for the sake of his friend. But _Nourabad_ tears the veil from _Leila_. It is the woman _Nadir_ has sworn never to see--the woman _Zurga_ also loves. Enraged, he passes sentence of death upon them.

In the third act, the camp of _Zurga_, _Leila_ expresses her willingness to die, but pleads for _Nadir_, "Pour moi je ne crains rien" (I have no fear). _Zurga_ is implacable, until he recognizes the necklace she wears as one he had given many years before to the girl who refused when he was a fugitive to deliver him up to his enemies. The scene changes to the place of execution, where has been erected a funeral pyre. Just as the guilty lovers are to be led to their death, a distant glow is seen. _Zurga_ cries out that the camp is on fire. The people rush away to fight the flames. _Zurga_ tells _Leila_ and _Nadir_ that he set fire to the camp. He then unfastens their chains and bids them flee. Terzet: "Ô lumière sainte" (O sacred light).

From a hiding place _Nourabad_ has witnessed the scene. When the people return, he denounces _Zurga's_ act in setting fire to the camp and permitting _Leila_ and _Nadir_ to escape. _Zurga_ is compelled to mount the pyre. A deep glow indicates that the forest is ablaze. The people prostrate themselves to Brahma, whose wrath they fear.

_Leila_ is for soprano, _Nadir_ tenor, _Zurga_ baritone, _Nourabad_ bass.

In the performance with Calvé only two acts were given. The rest of the program consisted of "La Navarraise," by Massenet.

DJAMILEH

"Djamileh," produced at the Opéra Comique, is in one act, words by Louis Gallet, based on Alfred de Musset's poem, "Namouna." The scene is Cairo, the time mediæval.

_Djamileh_, a beautiful slave, is in love with her master, _Prince Haroun_, a Turkish nobleman, who is tired of her and is about to sell her. She persuades his secretary, _Splendiano_, who is in love with her, to aid her in regaining her master's affections. She will marry _Splendiano_ if she fails.

Accordingly, with the secretary's aid, when the slave dealer arrives, she is, in disguise, among the slaves offered to _Haroun_. She dances. _Haroun_ is entranced, and immediately buys her. When she discloses her identity, and pleads that her ruse was prompted by her love for him, he receives her back into his affections.

_Djamileh_ is for mezzo-soprano, the men's rôles for tenor. Besides the dance, there are a duet for the men, "Que l'esclave soit brune ou blonde" (Let the slave be dark or fair); a trio, "Je voyais au loin la mer s'étendre" (The distant sea have I beheld extending); and the chorus, "Quelle est cette belle" (Who is the charmer).

Italian Opera Since Verdi

Chief among Italian opera composers of the present day are Puccini, Mascagni, and Leoncavallo. Others are Giordano, Wolf-Ferrari, Zandonai, Montemezzi, and Leoni.

Modern Italian opera differs from Italian opera, old style, largely through the devotion of the moderns to effects of realism--the Italian _verismo_, of which we hear so much. These effects of realism are produced largely by an orchestral accompaniment that constantly adapts itself descriptively to what is said and done on the stage. At not infrequent intervals, however, when a strongly emotional situation demands sustained expression, the restless play of orchestral depiction and the brief exchange of vocal phrases merge into eloquent melody for voice with significant instrumental accompaniment. Thus beautiful vocal melody, fluently sung, remains, in spite of all tendency toward the much vaunted effect of _verismo_, the heart and soul, as ever, of Italian opera.

Much difference, however, exists between the character of the melody in the modern and the old Italian opera. Speaking, of course, in general terms, the old style Italian operatic melody is sharply defined in outline and rhythm, whereas the melody of modern Italian opera, resting upon a more complicated accompaniment, is subject in a much greater degree to rhythmic and harmonic changes. Since, however, that is little more than saying that the later style of Italian opera is more modern than the older, I will add, what seems to me the most characteristic difference in their idioms. Italian melody, old style, derives much of its character from the dotted note, with the necessarily marked acceleration of the next note, as, for example, in "Ah! non giunge" ("La Sonnambula"), an air which is typical of the melodious measures of Italian opera of the first sixty or seventy years of the last century; and that, too, whether the emotion to be expressed is ecstasy, as in "Ah! non giunge," above; grief, as in _Edgardo's_ last aria in "Lucia di Lammermoor,"--"Tu che a Dio spiegasti l'ali" (Thou has [Transcriber's Note: should be 'hast'] spread thy wings to Heaven), the spirit of festive greeting as in the chorus from the previous act of the same opera, or passionate love as in _Elvira's_ and _Ernani's_ duet; "Ah morir potessi adesso."

It does not occur as frequently in Rossini as in Bellini and Donizetti, while Verdi, as he approaches his ripest period, discards it with growing frequency. I am also aware that the dotted note is found in abundance in the music of all civilized countries. Nevertheless it is from its prominence in the melodic phrase, the impetus imparted by it, and the sharp reiterated rhythmic beat which it usually calls for, that Italian melody of the last century, up to about 1870, derives much of its energy, swing, and passion. It is, in fact, idiomatic.

Wholly different is the idiom of modern Italian music. It consists of the sudden stressing of the melody at a vital point by means of the triolet--the triplet, as we call it. An excellent example is the love motif for _Nedda_ in "I Pagliacci," by Leoncavallo.

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If the dotted note is peculiarly adapted to the careless rapture with which the earlier Italian composers lavished melody after melody upon their scores, the triolet suits the more laboured efforts of the modern Italian muse.

Another effect typical of modern Italian opera is the use of the foreign note--that is, the sudden employment of a note strange to the key of the composition. This probably is done for the sake of giving piquancy to a melody that otherwise might be considered commonplace. _Turiddu's_ drinking song in "Cavalleria Rusticana" is a good example.

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In orderly harmonic progression the first tone in the bass of the second bar would be F-sharp, instead of F-natural, which is a note foreign to the key. This example is quoted in Ferdinand Pfohl's _Modern Opera_, in which he says of the triolet and its use in the opera of modern Italy, that its peculiarly energetic sweep, powerful suspense, and quickening, fiery heart-beat lend themselves amazingly to the art of _verismo_.

Pietro Mascagni

(1863- )

Pietro Mascagni was born in Leghorn, Italy, December 7, 1863. His father was a baker. The elder Mascagni, ambitious for his boy, wanted him to study law. The son himself preferred music, and studied surreptitiously. An uncle, who sympathized with his aims, helped him financially. After the uncle's death a nobleman, Count Florestan, sent him to the Milan Conservatory. There he came under the instruction and influence of Ponchielli.

After two years' study at the conservatory he began a wandering life, officiating for the next five years as conductor of opera companies, most of which disbanded unexpectedly and impecuniously. He eked out a meagre income, being compelled at one time to subsist on a plate of macaroni a day. His finances were not greatly improved when he settled in Cerignola, where he directed a school for orchestra players and taught pianoforte and theory.

He was married and in most straitened circumstances when he composed "Cavalleria Rusticana" and sent it off to the publisher Sonzogno, who had offered a prize for a one-act opera. It received the award.

May 17, 1890, at the Constanzi Theatre, Rome, it had its first performance. Before the representation had progressed very far, the half-filled house was in a state of excitement and enthusiasm bordering on hysteria. The production of "Cavalleria Rusticana" remains one of the sensational events in the history of opera. It made Mascagni famous in a night. Everywhere it was given--and it was given everywhere--it made the same sensational success. Its vogue was so great, it "took" so rapidly, that it was said to have infected the public with "Mascagnitis."

In "'Cavalleria Rusticana' music and text work in wonderful harmony in the swift and gloomy tragedy." Nothing Mascagni has composed since has come within hailing distance of it. The list of his operas is a fairly long one. Most of them have been complete failures. In America, "Iris" has, since its production, been the subject of occasional revival. "Lodoletta," brought out by Gatti-Casazza at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1918, had the advantage of a cast that included Caruso and Farrar. "Isabeau" had its first performance in the United States of America, in Chicago by the Chicago Opera Company under the direction of Cleofante Campanini in 1917, and was given by the same organization in New York in 1918. (See p. 625.)

With Mascagni's opera, "Le Maschere" (The Maskers), which was produced in 1901, the curious experiment was made of having the first night occur simultaneously in six Italian cities. It was a failure in all, save Rome, where it survived for a short time.

Of the unfortunate results of Mascagni's American visit in 1902 not much need be said. A "scratch" company was gotten together for him. With this he gave poor performances at the Metropolitan Opera House, of "Cavalleria Rusticana," "Zanetto," and "Iris." The tour ended in lawsuits and failure. "Zanetto," which is orchestrated only for string band and a harp, was brought out with "Cavalleria Rusticana" in a double bill, October 8, 1902; "Iris," October 16th.

CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA

RUSTIC CHIVALRY

Opera, in one act, by Mascagni; words by Giovanni Targioni-Toggetti and G. Menasci, the libretto being founded on a story by Giovanni Verga. Produced, Constanzi Theatre, Rome, May 17, 1890. London, Shaftesbury Theatre, October 19, 1891. Covent Garden, May 16, 1892. America: Philadelphia, Grand Opera House, September 9, 1891, under the direction of Gustav Hinrichs, with Selma Kronold (_Santuzza_), Miss Campbell (_Lola_), Jeannie Teal (_Lucia_), Guille (_Turiddu_), Del Puente (_Alfio_). Chicago, September 30, 1891, with Minnie Hauck as _Santuzza_. New York, October 1, 1891, at an afternoon "dress rehearsal" at the Casino, under the direction of Rudolph Aronson, with Laura Bellini (_Santuzza_), Grace Golden (_Lola_), Helen von Doenhof (_Lucia_), Charles Bassett (_Turiddu_), William Pruette (_Alfio_), Gustav Kerker, conductor, Heinrich Conried, stage manager. Evening of same day, at the Lenox Lyceum, under the direction of Oscar Hammerstein, with Mme. Janouschoffsky (_Santuzza_), Mrs. Pemberton Hincks (_Lola_), Mrs. Jennie Bohner (_Lucia_), Payne Clarke (_Turiddu_), Herman Gerold (_Alfio_), Adolph Neuendorff, conductor. Metropolitan Opera House, December 30, 1891, with Eames as _Santuzza_; November 29, 1893, with Calvé (début) as _Santuzza_.

CHARACTERS

TURIDDU, a young soldier _Tenor_ ALFIO, the village teamster _Baritone_ LOLA, his wife _Mezzo-Soprano_ MAMMA LUCIA, Turiddu's mother _Contralto_ SANTUZZA, a village girl _Soprano_

Villagers, peasants, boys.

_Time_--The present, on Easter day.

_Place_--A village in Sicily.

"Cavalleria Rusticana" in its original form is a short story, compact and tense, by Giovanni Verga. From it was made the stage tragedy, in which Eleonora Duse displayed her great powers as an actress. It is a drama of swift action and intense emotion; of passion, betrayal, and retribution. Much has been made of the rôle played by the "book" in contributing to the success of the opera. It is a first-rate libretto--one of the best ever put forth. It inspired the composer to what so far has remained his only significant achievement. But only in that respect is it responsible for the success of "Cavalleria Rusticana" as an opera. The hot blood of the story courses through the music of Mascagni, who in his score also has quieter passages, that make the cries of passion the more poignant. Like practically every enduring success, that of "Cavalleria Rusticana" rests upon merit. From beginning to end it is an inspiration. In it, in 1890, Mascagni, at the age of twenty-one, "found himself," and ever since has been trying, unsuccessfully, to find himself again.

The prelude contains three passages of significance in the development of the story. The first of these is the phrase of the despairing _Santuzza_, in which she cries out to _Turiddu_ that, despite his betrayal and desertion of her, she still loves and pardons him. The second is the melody of the duet between _Santuzza_ and _Turiddu_, in which she implores him to remain with her and not to follow _Lola_ into the church. The third is the air in Sicilian style, the "Siciliana," which, as part of the prelude, _Turiddu_ sings behind the curtain, in the manner of a serenade to _Lola_, "O Lola, bianca come fior di spino" (O Lola, fair as a smiling flower).

With the end of the "Siciliana" the curtain rises. It discloses a public square in a Sicilian village. On one side, in the background, is a church, on the other _Mamma Lucia's_ wineshop and dwelling. It is Easter morning. Peasants, men, women, and children cross or move about the stage. The church bells ring, the church doors swing open, people enter. A chorus, in which, mingled with gladness over the mild beauty of the day, there also is the lilt of religious ecstasy, follows. Like a refrain the women voice and repeat "Gli aranci olezzano sui verdi margini" (Sweet is the air with the blossoms of oranges). They intone "La Vergine serena allietasi del Salvator" (The Holy Mother mild, in ecstasy fondles the child), and sing of "Tempo è si mormori," etc. (Murmurs of tender song tell of a joyful world). The men, meanwhile, pay a tribute to the industry and charm of woman. Those who have not entered the church, go off singing. Their voices die away in the distance.

_Santuzza_, sad of mien, approaches _Mamma Lucia's_ house, just as her false lover's mother comes out. There is a brief colloquy between the two women. _Santuzza_ asks for _Turiddu_. His mother answers that he has gone to Francofonte to fetch some wine. _Santuzza_ tells her that he was seen during the night in the village. The girl's evident distress touches _Mamma Lucia_. She bids her enter the house.

"I may not step across your threshold," exclaims _Santuzza_. "I cannot pass it, I, most unhappy outcast! Excommunicated!"

_Mamma Lucia_ may have her suspicions of _Santuzza's_ plight. "What of my son?" she asks. "What have you to tell me?"

But at that moment the cracking of a whip and the jingling of bells are heard from off stage. _Alfio_, the teamster, comes upon the scene. He is accompanied by the villagers. Cheerfully he sings the praises of a teamster's life, also of _Lola's_, his wife's, beauty. The villagers join him in chorus, "Il cavallo scalpita" (Gayly moves the tramping horse).

_Alfio_ asks _Mamma Lucia_ if she still has on hand some of her fine old wine. She tells him it has given out. _Turiddu_ has gone away to buy a fresh supply of it.

"No," says _Alfio_. "He is here. I saw him this morning standing not far from my cottage."

_Mamma Lucia_ is about to express great surprise. _Santuzza_ is quick to check her.

_Alfio_ goes his way. A choir in the church intones the "Regina Coeli." The people in the square join in the "Allelujas." Then they kneel and, led by _Santuzza's_ voice, sing the Resurrection hymn, "Inneggiamo, il Signor non è morto" (Let us sing of the Lord now victorious). The "Allelujas" resound in the church, which all, save _Mamma Lucia_ and _Santuzza_, enter.

_Mamma Lucia_ asks the girl why she signalled her to remain silent when _Alfio_ spoke of _Turiddu's_ presence in the village. "Voi lo sapete" (Now you shall know), exclaims _Santuzza_, and in one of the most impassioned numbers of the score, pours into the ears of her lover's mother the story of her betrayal. Before _Turiddu_ left to serve his time in the army, he and _Lola_ were in love with each other. But, tiring of awaiting his return, the fickle _Lola_ married _Alfio_. _Turiddu_, after he had come back, made love to _Santuzza_ and betrayed her; now, lured by _Lola_, he has taken advantage of _Alfio's_ frequent absences, and has gone back to his first love. _Mamma Lucia_ pities the girl, who begs that she go into church and pray for her.

_Turiddu_ comes, a handsome fellow. _Santuzza_ upbraids him for pretending to have gone away, when instead he has surreptitiously been visiting _Lola_. It is a scene of vehemence. But when _Turiddu_ intimates that his life would be in danger were _Alfio_ to know of his visits to _Lola_, the girl is terrified. "Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono" (Beat me, insult me, I still love and forgive you).

Such is her mood--despairing, yet relenting. But _Lola's_ voice is heard off stage. Her song is carefree, a key to her character, which is fickle and selfish, with a touch of the cruel. "Fior di giaggiolo" (Bright flower, so glowing) runs her song. Heard off stage, it yet conveys in its melody, its pauses, and inflections, a quick sketch in music of the heartless coquette, who, to gratify a whim, has stolen _Turiddu_ from _Santuzza_. She mocks the girl, then enters the church. Only a few minutes has she been on the stage, but Mascagni has let us know all about her.

A highly dramatic scene, one of the most impassioned outbursts of the score, occurs at this point. _Turiddu_ turns to follow _Lola_ into the church. _Santuzza_ begs him to stay. "No, no, Turiddu, rimani, rimani, ancora--Abbandonarmi dunque tu vuoi?" (No, no, Turiddu! Remain with me now and forever! Love me again! How can you forsake me?).

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A highly dramatic phrase, already heard in the prelude, occurs at "La tua Santuzza piange e t'implora" (Lo! here thy Santuzza, weeping, implores thee).

_Turiddu_ repulses her. She clings to him. He loosens her hold and casts her from him to the ground. When she rises, he has followed _Lola_ into the church.

But the avenger is nigh. Before _Santuzza_ has time to think, _Alfio_ comes upon the scene. He is looking for _Lola_. To him in the fewest possible words, and in the white voice of suppressed passion, _Santuzza_ tells him that his wife has been unfaithful with _Turiddu_. In the brevity of its recitatives, the tense summing up in melody of each dramatic situation as it develops in the inexorably swift unfolding of the tragic story, lies the strength of "Cavalleria Rusticana."

_Santuzza_ and _Alfio_ leave. The square is empty. But the action goes on in the orchestra. For the intermezzo--the famous intermezzo--which follows, recapitulates, in its forty-eight bars, what has gone before, and foreshadows the tragedy that is impending. There is no restating here of leading motives. The effect is accomplished by means of terse, vibrant melodic progression. It is melody and yet it is drama. Therein lies its merit. For no piece of serious music can achieve the world-wide popularity of this intermezzo and not possess merit.

[Music]

Mr. Krehbiel, in _A Second Book of Operas_, gives an instance of its unexampled appeal to the multitude. A burlesque on this opera was staged in Vienna. The author of the burlesque thought it would be a great joke to have the intermezzo played on a hand-organ. Up to that point the audience had been hilarious. But with the first wheezy tone of the grinder the people settled down to silent attention, and, when the end came, burst into applause. Even the hand-organ could not rob the intermezzo of its charm for the public!

What is to follow in the opera is quickly accomplished. The people come out of church. _Turiddu_, in high spirits, because he is with _Lola_ and because _Santuzza_ no longer is hanging around to reproach him, invites his friends over to his mother's wineshop. Their glasses are filled. _Turiddu_ dashes off a drinking song, "Viva, il vino spumeggiante" (Hail! the ruby wine now flowing).

The theme of this song will be found quoted on p. 609.

_Alfio_ joins them. _Turiddu_ offers him wine. He refuses it. The women leave, taking _Lola_ with them. In a brief exchange of words _Alfio_ gives the challenge. In Sicilian fashion the two men embrace, and _Turiddu_, in token of acceptance, bites _Alfio's_ ear. _Alfio_ goes off in the direction of the place where they are to test their skill with the stiletto.

_Turiddu_ calls for _Mamma Lucia_. He is going away, he tells her. At home the wine cup passes too freely. He must leave. If he should not come back she must be like a kindly mother to _Santuzza_--"_Santa_, whom I have promised to lead to the altar."

"Un bacio, mamma! Un altro bacio!--Addio!" (One kiss, one kiss, my mother. And yet another. Farewell!)

He goes. _Mamma Lucia_ wanders aimlessly to the back of the stage. She is weeping. _Santuzza_ comes on, throws her arms around the poor woman's neck. People crowd upon the scene. All is suppressed excitement. There is a murmur of distant voices. A woman is heard calling from afar: "They have murdered neighbour Turiddu!"

Several women enter hastily. One of them, the one whose voice was heard in the distance, repeats, but now in a shriek, "Hanno ammazzato compare Turiddu!"--(They have murdered neighbour Turiddu!)

_Santuzza_ falls in a swoon. The fainting form of _Mamma Lucia_ is supported by some of the women.

"Cala rapidamente la tela" (The curtain falls rapidly).

A tragedy of Sicily, hot in the blood, is over.

When "Cavalleria Rusticana" was produced, no Italian opera had achieved such a triumph since "Aïda"--a period of nearly twenty years. It was hoped that Mascagni would prove to be Verdi's successor, a hope which, needless to say, has not been fulfilled.

To "Cavalleria Rusticana," however, we owe the succession of short operas, usually founded on debased and sordid material, in which other composers have paid Mascagni the doubtful compliment of imitation in hopes of achieving similar success. Of all these, "Pagliacci," by Leoncavallo, is the only one that has shared the vogue of the Mascagni opera. The two make a remarkably effective double bill.

L'AMICO FRITZ

FRIEND FRITZ

Opera in three acts, by Pietro Mascagni; text by Suaratoni [Transcriber's Note: later editions have P. Suardon (N. Daspuro)], from the story by Erckmann-Chatrian. Produced, Rome, 1891. Philadelphia, by Gustav Hinrichs, June 8, 1892. New York, Metropolitan Opera House, with Calvé as _Suzel_, January 10, 1894.

CHARACTERS

FRITZ KOBUS, a rich bachelor _Tenor_ DAVID, a Rabbi _Baritone_ FREDERICO } friends of Fritz { _Tenor_ HANEGO } { _Tenor_ SUZEL, a farmer's daughter _Soprano_ BEPPE, a gypsy _Soprano_ CATERINA, a housekeeper _Contralto_

_Time_--The present.

_Place_--Alsace.