Act IV. _Manrico's_ sortie to rescue his supposed mother failed. His

men were repulsed, and he himself was captured and thrown into the dungeon tower of Aliaferia, where _Azucena_ was already enchained. The scene shows a wing of the palace of Aliaferia. In the angle is a tower with window secured by iron bars. It is night, dark and clouded.

_Leonora_ enters with _Ruiz_, who points out to her the place of _Manrico's_ confinement, and retires. That she has conceived a desperate plan to save her lover appears from the fact that she wears a poison ring, a ring with a swift poison concealed under the jewel, so that she can take her own life, if driven thereto.

Unknown to _Manrico_, she is near him. Her thoughts wander to him;--"D'amor sull'ali rosee" (On rosy wings of love depart).

[Music: D'amor sull'ali rosee]

It is followed by the "Miserere," which was for many years and perhaps still is the world over the most popular of all melodies from opera, although at the present time it appears to have been superseded by the "Intermezzo" from "Cavalleria Rusticana."

The "Miserere" is chanted by a chorus within.

[Music]

Against this as a sombre background are projected the heart-broken ejaculations of _Leonora_.

[Music]

Then _Manrico's_ voice in the tower intones "Ah! che la morte ognora" (Ah! how death still delayeth).

[Music]

One of the most characteristic phrases, suggestions of which occur also in "La Traviata" and even in "Aïda," is the following:

[Music: a chi desia, a chi desia morir!]

Familiarity may breed contempt, and nothing could well be more familiar than the "Miserere" from "Il Trovatore." Yet, well sung, it never fails of effect; and the gaoler always has to let _Manrico_ come out of the tower and acknowledge the applause of an excited house, while _Leonora_ stands by and pretends not to see him, one of those little fictions and absurdities of old-fashioned opera that really add to its charm.

The _Count_ enters, to be confronted by _Leonora_. She promises to become his wife if he will free _Manrico_. _Di Luna's_ passion for her is so intense that he agrees. There is a solo for _Leonora_, "Mira, di acerbe lagrime" (Witness the tears of agony), followed by a duet between her and the _Count_, who little suspects that, _Manrico_ once freed, she will escape a hated union with himself by taking the poison in her ring.

The scene changes to the interior of the tower. _Manrico_ and _Azucena_ sing a duet of mournful beauty, "Ai nostri monti" (Back to our mountains).

[Music: Ai nostri monti] [Music: Riposa o madre, io prono e muto]

_Leonora_ enters and bids him escape. But he suspects the price she has paid; and his suspicions are confirmed by herself, when the poison she has drained from beneath the jewel in her ring begins to take effect and she feels herself sinking in death, while _Azucena_, in her sleep, croons dreamily, "Back to our mountains."

The _Count di Luna_, coming upon the scene, finds _Leonora_ dead in her lover's arms. He orders _Manrico_ to be led to the block at once and drags _Azucena_ to the window to witness the death of her supposed son.

"It is over!" exclaims _Di Luna_, when the executioner has done his work.

"The victim was thy brother!" shrieks the gypsy hag. "Thou art avenged, O mother!"

She falls near the window.

"And I still live!" exclaims the _Count_.

With that exclamation the cumulative horrors, set to the most tuneful score in Italian opera, are over.

LA TRAVIATA

THE FRAIL ONE

Opera in three acts by Verdi; words by Francesco Maria Piave, after the play "La Dame aux Camélias," by Alexandre Dumas, _fils_. Produced Fenice Theatre, Venice, March 6, 1853. London, May 24, 1856, with Piccolomini. Paris, in French, December 6, 1856; in Italian, October 27, 1864, with Christine Nilsson. New York, Academy of Music, December 3, 1856, with La Grange (_Violetta_), Brignoli (_Alfredo_), and Amodio (_Germont, père_). Nilsson, Patti, Melba, Sembrich and Tetrazzini have been among famous interpreters of the rôle of _Violetta_ in America. Galli-Curci first sang _Violetta_ in this country in Chicago, December 1, 1916.

CHARACTERS

ALFREDO GERMONT, lover of VIOLETTA _Tenor_ GIORGIO GERMONT, his father _Baritone_ GASTONE DE LETORIÈRES _Tenor_ BARON DOUPHOL, a rival of ALFREDO _Bass_ MARQUIS D'OBIGNY _Bass_ DOCTOR GRENVIL _Bass_ GIUSEPPE, servant to VIOLETTA _Tenor_ VIOLETTA VALÉRY, a courtesan _Soprano_ FLORA BERVOIX, her friend _Mezzo-Soprano_ ANNINA, confidante of VIOLETTA _Soprano_

Ladies and gentlemen who are friends and guests in the houses of Violetta and Flora; servants and masks; dancers and guests as matadors, picadors, and gypsies.

_Time_--Louis XIV. [Transcriber's Note: The correct time is about 1850. See author's discussion below.]

_Place_--Paris and vicinity.

At its production in Venice in 1853 "La Traviata" was a failure, for which various reasons can be advanced. The younger Dumas's play, "La Dame aux Camélias," familiar to English playgoers under the incorrect title of "Camille," is a study of modern life and played in modern costume. When Piave reduced his "Traviata" libretto from the play, he retained the modern period. This is said to have nonplussed an audience accustomed to operas laid in the past and given in "costume." But the chief blame for the fiasco appears to have rested with the singers. Graziani, the _Alfredo_, was hoarse. Salvini-Donatelli, the _Violetta_, was inordinately stout. The result was that the scene of her death as a consumptive was received with derision. Varesi, the baritone, who sang _Giorgio Germont_, who does not appear until the second act, and is of no importance save in that part of the opera, considered the rôle beneath his reputation--notwithstanding _Germont's_ beautiful solo, "Di Provenza"--and was none too cheerful over it. There is evidence in Verdi's correspondence that the composer had complete confidence in the merits of his score, and attributed its failure to its interpreters.

When the opera was brought forward again a year later, the same city which had decried it as a failure acclaimed it a success. On this occasion, however, the period of the action differed from that of the play. It was set back to the time of Louis XIV., and costumed accordingly. There is, however, no other opera today in which this matter of costume is so much a go-as-you-please affair for the principals, as it is in "La Traviata." I do not recall if Christine Nilsson dressed _Violetta_ according to the Louis XIV. period, or not; but certainly Adelina Patti and Marcella Sembrich, both of whom I heard many times in the rôle (and each of them the first time they sang it here) wore the conventional evening gown of modern times. To do this has become entirely permissible for prima donnas in this character. Meanwhile the _Alfredo_ may dress according to the Louis XIV. period, or wear the swallow-tail costume of today, or compromise, as some do, and wear the swallow-tail coat and modern waistcoat with knee-breeches and black silk stockings. As if even this diversity were not yet quite enough, the most notable _Germont_ of recent years, Renaud, who, at the Manhattan Opera House, sang the rôle with the most exquisite refinement, giving a portrayal as finished as a genre painting by Meissonnier, wore the costume of a gentleman of Provence of, perhaps, the middle of the last century. But, as I have hinted before, in old-fashioned opera, these incongruities, which would be severely condemned in a modern work, don't amount to a row of pins. Given plenty of melody, beautifully sung, and everything else can go hang.