OFFENBACH, JACQUES.

The Grand Duchess of Gerolstein.

[Opera bouffe, in three acts; text by Meilhac and Halévy. First produced at the Variétés, Paris, April 12, 1867.]

PERSONAGES.

Grand Duchess.

Wanda, a peasant girl.

Iza, maid of honor.

Olga, maid of honor.

Prince Paul, neglected suitor of the Duchess.

Gen. Boum, in command of the army.

Baron Puck, Court chamberlain.

Baron Grog, emissary.

Fritz, a recruit.

Nepomuc, aide de camp.

[Lords and court ladies, pages, soldiers, vivandières, country girls, etc.]

The scene is laid in the imaginary Duchy of Gerolstein; time, the year 1720.

“The Grand Duchess of Gerolstein,” though in some respects inferior musically to “Orpheus,” by the same composer, is altogether the most perfect type of the opera bouffe. For the drollness of its story, the originality of its characters as well as of its music and obstreperous gayety, dash, and geniality mixed with occasional seriousness and grace, this work when it first [142] appeared was unique, though Offenbach rose to his highest achievement when dealing with the gods and goddesses of Olympus in his “Orpheus,” which revealed his powers of musical burlesque at their best.

The first act opens with a grand review of the army of the duchy, commanded by the pompous General Boum, at which the Duchess is present. In its ranks there is a recruit, known by the name of Fritz, who has already aroused the General’s jealousy by his attentions to Wanda, a peasant girl. He continues still further to add to this jealousy when the Duchess, attracted by his good looks, singles him out for her regard and promotes him to the post of corporal. When she learns of his relations to Wanda, she raises him to the rank of lieutenant, evidently to separate him from Wanda by the new elevation. The review over, the Duchess studies the plan of a pending campaign against a neighboring enemy. She summons General Boum in the presence of Baron Puck, her court chamberlain, Prince Paul, a feeble and neglected suitor of the Duchess, and Lieutenant Fritz, who is now her special body-guard, and asks him for his plan of campaign, which he states, much to the disgust of Fritz, who declares it to be sheer nonsense. The Duchess then asks the latter for his plan, and is so much pleased with it that she appoints him general and raises him to the rank of baron, much to the discomfort and indignation of the others.

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The second act opens with the return of Fritz. He has been victorious, and at the public reception given him he tells the story of his adventures. Subsequently at a tête-à-tête with the Duchess, she makes open love to him; but he is so occupied with thoughts of Wanda that he is insensible to all her advances, which puts her in a rage. Overhearing a conspiracy between Puck, Paul, and the deposed General Boum against his life, she joins with them, and the act closes with a wild, hilarious dance.

In the third act Baron Grog, emissary of Prince Paul’s father, appears upon the scene to expedite the marriage of the Prince to the Duchess. He joins the conspiracy against Fritz, and so ingratiates himself with the Duchess that she finally consents to marry the Prince. In the mean time she countermands the order for Fritz’s assassination, and gives him permission to marry Wanda. The conspirators, however, play a practical joke upon Fritz by a false message summoning him to the battle-field. He leaves at once on the wedding-night, but through the connivance of General Boum is waylaid and badly beaten. While the betrothal of the Duchess is being celebrated, Fritz returns in sad plight, with the sabre which the Duchess has given him in a battered condition. She adds to his misfortunes by depriving him of his command and bestowing it upon Baron Grog, but learning that he has a family, she reinstates General Boum. In the dénouement Fritz is restored to his Wanda and the Duchess marries Prince Paul.

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The music is in keeping with the drollery of the situations, and abounds in vivacity and odd descriptiveness, defying all accepted laws and adapting itself to the grotesquerie and extravagance of the action. The principal numbers in the first act are the pompous “Pif, paf, pouf” song of General Boum; the Grand Duchess’ air, “Ah! I love the Military” (“Ah! que j’aime les militaires”); the regiment song for her and Fritz, “Oh! what a Famous Regiment” (“Ah! c’est un fameux régiment”); the couplets of Prince Paul, “To marry a Princess” (“Pour épouser une Princesse”); and the famous sabre song, “Lo, here the Sabre of my Sire” (“Voici, le sabre de mon père”). The best numbers of the second act are Fritz’s spirited rondo, “All in Good Order, Colors flying” (“En très bon ordre nous partîmes”), in which he tells the story of his victory; the romanza “Say to him” (“Dites lui”), a delightful little song, and so refined that it hardly seems to belong to the opera; and the conspirators’ trio, “Max was a Soldier of Fortune” (“Max était soldat de fortune”), which is irresistible in its broad humor and queer rhythms. The musical interest really reaches its climax in the second act. Outside of the chorus work in the third act, there is little of interest except the Duchess’ ballad, “There lived in Times now long gone by” (“Il était un de mes aieux”), and Fritz’ song to the Duchess, “Behold here, your Highness” (“Eh bien, Altesse, me voilà!”).

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La Belle Hélène.

[Opera bouffe, in three acts; text by De Meilhac and Halévy. First produced at the Théâtre des Variétés, Paris, December 17, 1864.]

PERSONAGES.

Helen, Queen of Sparta.

Paris, son of Priam.

Menelaus, King of Sparta.

Agamemnon, King of the Kings.

Calchas, augur.

Achilles, King of Phthiotis.

Ajax I., King of Salamis.

Ajax II., King of the Locrians.

Orestes, son of Agamemnon.

Bacchis, attendant of Helen.

Parthœnis.

Lœna.

Philocomes, servant of Calchas.

Euthycles, a blacksmith.

[Princes, princesses, courtiers, Helen’s attendants, slaves, etc.]

The scene is laid in Sparta; time mythical.

In “La Belle Hélène” Offenbach goes back to the mythical period, and presents the heroes of the time of Helen and Paris in modern burlesque. The first act opens at the temple of Jupiter in Sparta, where, among others who have placed their offerings at his shrine, is Helen. When alone with Calchas, the augur, they discuss some means of avoiding the decree of the oracle which has declared she is to leave Menelaus, her husband, [146] and fly with Paris, son of Priam, to Troy. Before a decision is reached, Paris, disguised as a shepherd, arrives, and soon he and Helen are lovers. They meet again in a grand tournament in which the two Ajaxes, Achilles, Agamemnon, and others announce themselves in the most comic fashion and guess at conundrums for a prize. Paris wins, and proclaims his name and lineage, to the delight of Helen, whose delight is still further enhanced when the oracle orders Menelaus to set off at once for Crete.

In the second act Helen struggles against the decrees of Venus. Paris has an interview with her, but she will not yield, and he retires. By the aid of Calchas he secures admission to the chamber of the slumbering Queen, when Menelaus suddenly returns and an altercation ensues, during which Paris defies all the Grecian heroes, and Helen philosophically informs Menelaus he should have announced his coming beforehand. Paris again retreats, and Helen is now in despair.

In the third act Helen and Menelaus have a family quarrel, and he charges her with being false. She denies it, and declares he has been dreaming. Calchas now appears, and announces that a new augur has been appointed and is on his way there. A golden galley is seen approaching, and the new augur is found to be Paris himself. He brings word that Venus is angry at what has been going on, but will relent if Helen will return with him to her shrine and sacrifice white heifers. [147] She is reluctant to go, but finally decides to obey the voice of destiny, and sails away with him, leaving them all behind in grief and Menelaus in rage.

The dialogue of “La Belle Hélène” is very witty, though coarse at times, and many of the situations are full of a humorous incongruity and drollness growing out of the attempt to modernize these mythological heroes. The music admirably fits the text, and though not so gay as that of “The Grand Duchess,” yet is fresh, original, and interesting throughout. The chief numbers of the work are Helen’s passionate song of mourning for Adonis, “Divine Love” (“Amours divins”); Paris’ fable, “On Mount Ida, three Goddesses” (“Au Mont Ida, trois déesses”), in which he tells the well-known apple story; the march and chorus, “Here are the Kings of Greece” (“Voici les rois de la Grèce”), in which, one after the other, they come forward and announce themselves in an irresistibly funny manner; Helen’s mock sentimental song, “We all are born with Solicitude” (“Nous naissons toutes soucieuses”); the droll goose march of the Kings; a fascinating chorus, “Let us wreathe Crowns of Roses” (“En courronnes tressons roses”); Helen’s song, “A Husband Wise” (“Un mari sage”), one of the most characteristic numbers in the opera; and in the last act Orestes’ song, “In spite of this Ardent Flame” (“Malgré cette ardente flamme”); the spirited trio, “When Greece has become [148] a Field of Carnage” (“Lorsque la Grèce est un camp de carnage”); and the final chorus, “Let now our Wrath” (“Que notre colère”), which preludes the Trojan war.

Orpheus.

[Opera bouffe, in three acts; text by Cremieux. First produced at the Bouffes Parisiens, Paris, October 21, 1858.]

PERSONAGES.

Pluto, disguised as Aristeus.

Jupiter, King of the Gods.

Orpheus, the lutist.

John Styx, the ferryman.

Mercury, the messenger.

Bacchus, God of wine.

Mars, God of war.

Eurydice, spouse of Orpheus.

Diana, Goddess of the hunt.

Public Opinion.

Juno, consort of Jupiter.

Venus, Goddess of love.

Cupid, her messenger.

Minerva, Goddess of wisdom.

The scene is laid near Thebes; time, mythical.

The best musical work of Offenbach undoubtedly is to be found in his “Orpheus aux Enfers,” and the text which his librettist furnished him is in keeping with the music. It was a bold as well as droll conception to invest the Olympian gods and goddesses with human attributes and make them symbols of worldly departments of action and [149] official life, to parade them in processions like the ordinary street pageant, to present them in banquets, to dress them in the most fantastically individual manner, and to make nineteenth-century caricatures of the whole Olympian coterie.

The first scene of the opera discloses Eurydice in the Theban meadows plucking flowers with which to decorate the cabin of Aristeus, the shepherd, who is really Pluto in disguise. Suddenly Orpheus appears, not with his tortoise-shell lyre, but playing the violin and serenading, as he supposes, a shepherdess with whom he is in love. His mistake reveals the fact that each of them is false to the other, and a violent quarrel of the most ludicrous description ensues, ending in their separation. He goes to his shepherdess, she to her shepherd. Shortly afterwards, Aristeus meets Eurydice in the fields and reveals his real self. By supernatural power he turns day into night and brings on a tempest, in the midst of which he bears her away to the infernal regions, but not before she has written upon Orpheus’ hut the fate that has overtaken her. When Orpheus returns he is overjoyed at his loss, but in the midst of his exultation, Public Opinion appears and commands him to go to Olympus and demand from Jupiter the restoration of his wife. Orpheus reluctantly obeys the order.

The second act opens in Olympus, where the gods and goddesses are enjoying a nap, from which they are awakened by the blasts of Diana’s horn. [150] Thereupon much slanderous gossip is circulated amongst them, the latest news discussed being Pluto’s abduction of Eurydice. Pluto himself shortly comes in, and is at once taxed by Jupiter with his unseemly behavior, whereupon Pluto retaliates by reference to Jupiter’s numerous amours with mortals. This arouses the jealousy of Juno. Venus, with Cupid’s assistance, starts a veritable riot, which is suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Orpheus and his guide, Public Opinion. He demands that his wife shall be restored to him, and Jupiter not only consents, but agrees to attend to the matter personally.

The third act finds Eurydice in Hades, carefully guarded by John Styx. Jupiter is faithful to his promise, and soon arrives there, but not in his proper person. He appears in the disguise of a fly, and allows Eurydice to catch him, after which he reveals himself. When Pluto comes in, he finds her transformed into a bacchante of the most convivial sort. Other deities make their appearance, and finally Orpheus comes sailing up the Styx, playing his violin, and demanding of Jupiter the fulfilment of his contract. Jupiter consents, but makes the condition that he shall return to his boat, Eurydice following him, and that he must not look back. Orpheus sets out, but just before he reaches the boat, the cunning Jupiter launches a thunderbolt after him, which causes him to turn and lose Eurydice, much to the disgust of Public Opinion, but greatly to the edification of Orpheus, [151] who is now at liberty to return to his shepherdess on the Theban plain.

The most striking numbers in this curious travesty are the opening aria of Eurydice, as she gathers the flowers, “Woman that dreams” (“La femme dont la cœur rêve”); the pastoral sung to her by Aristeus, “To see through the Vines” (“Voir voltiger sous les treilles”); the fascinating hunting-song of Diana, “When Diana comes down the Plain” (“Quand Diane descend dans la plaine”); the characteristic and taking song of John Styx, “When I was King of Bœotia” (“Quand j’étais roi de Beotie”), which in its way is as striking as the sabre song in “The Grand Duchess”; Eurydice’s delicate fly-song, “Beautiful Insect, with Golden Wings” (“Bel insecte, à l’aile dorée”); the drinking-song in the infernal regions, “Hail to the Wine” (“Vive le vin”); and Eurydice’s vivacious bacchanalian song which immediately follows it, “I have seen the God Bacchus” (“J’ai vu le dieu Bacchus”).

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