THIS composer, born CÔte-Saint-AndrÉ, near Grenoble, December 11, 1803; died Paris, March 9, 1869, has had comparatively little influence upon opera considered simply as such. But, as a musician whose skill in instrumentation, and knowledge of the individual tone quality of every instrument in the orchestra amounted to positive genius, his influence on music in general was great. In his symphonies—"Episode de la Vie d'un Artiste" (characterized by him as a symphonie phantastique), its sequel, "Lelio, ou la Retour À la Vie," "Harold en Italie," in which Harold is impersonated by the viola, and the symphonie dramatique, "RomÉo et Juliette," he proved the feasibility of producing, by means of orchestral music, the effect of narrative, personal characterization and the visualization of dramatic action, as well as of scenery and material objects. He thus became the founder of "program music."

Of Berlioz's operas not one is known on the stage of English-speaking countries. For "La Damnation de Faust," in its original form, is not an opera but a dramatic cantata. First performed in 1846, it was not made over into an opera until 1893, twenty-four years after the composer's death.

BENVENUTO CELLINI

Act I. The carnival of 1532. We are in the house of the Papal treasurer, Balducci, who has scolded his daughter Teresa for having looked out of the window. The old man is quite vexed, because the Pope has summoned the goldsmith Cellini to Rome.

Balducci's daughter Teresa, however, thinks quite otherwise and is happy. For she has found a note from Cellini in a bouquet that was thrown in to her from the street by a mask—Cellini, of course. A few moments later he appears at her side and proposes a plan of elopement. In the morning, during the carnival mask, he will wear a white monk's hood. His apprentice Ascanio will wear a brown one. They will join her and they will flee together. But a listener has sneaked in—Fieramosca, the Pope's sculptor, and no less Cellini's rival in love than in art. He overhears the plot. Unexpectedly, too, Teresa's father, Balducci, comes back. His daughter still up? In her anxiety to find an excuse, she says she heard a man sneak in. During the search Cellini disappears, and Fieramosca is apprehended. Before he can explain his presence, women neighbours, who have hurried in, drag him off to the public bath house and treat him to a ducking.

Act II. In the courtyard of a tavern Cellini is seated, with his assistants. He is happy in his love, for he places it even higher than fame, which alone heretofore he has courted. He must pledge his love in wine. Unfortunately the host will no longer give him credit. Just then Ascanio brings some money from the Papal treasurer, but in return Cellini must promise to complete his "Perseus" by morning. He promises, although the avaricious Balducci has profited by his necessity and has sent too little money. Ascanio is informed by Cellini of the disguises they are to wear at the carnival, and of his plan that Teresa shall flee with him.

Again Fieramosca has been spying, and overhears the plot. Accordingly he hires the bravo Pompeo to assist him in carrying off Teresa.

A change of scene shows the crowd of maskers on the Piazza di Colonna. Balducci comes along with Teresa. Both from the right and left through the crowd come two monks in the disguise she and her lover agreed upon. Which is the right couple? Soon, however, the two couples fall upon each other. A scream, and one of the brown-hooded monks (Pompeo) falls mortally wounded to the ground. A white-hooded monk (Cellini) has stabbed him. The crowd hurls itself upon Cellini. But at that moment the boom of a cannon gives notice that the carnival celebration is over. It is Ash Wednesday. In the first shock of surprise Cellini escapes, and in his place the other white-hooded monk, Fieramosca, is seized.

Act III. Before Cellini's house, in the background of which, through a curtain, is seen the bronze foundry, the anxious Teresa is assured by Ascanio that her lover is safe. Soon he comes along himself, with a band of monks, to whom he describes his escape. Then Balducci and Fieramosca rush in. Balducci wants to force his daughter to become Fieramosca's bride. The scene is interrupted by the arrival of Cardinal Salviati to see the completed "Perseus." Poor Cellini! Accused of murder and the attempted kidnapping of a girl, the "Perseus" unfinished, the money received for it spent! Heavy punishment awaits him, and another shall receive the commission to finish the "Perseus."

The artist flies into a passion. Another finish his masterpiece! Never! The casting shall be done on the spot! Not metal enough? He seizes his completed works and throws them into the molten mass. The casting begins. The master shatters the mould. The "Perseus," a noble work of art, appears before the eyes of the astonished onlookers—a potent plea for the inspired master. Once more have Art and her faithful servant triumphed over all rivals.

The statue of Perseus, by Benvenuto Cellini, one of the most famous creations of mediÆval Italy, is one of the art treasures of Florence.

BEATRICE AND BENEDICT

The story is an adaptation of the short version of Shakespeare's play, which preserves the spirit of the comedy, but omits the saturnine intrigue of Don John against Claudio and Hero. The gist of the comedy is the gradual reaction of the brilliant but captious Beatrice from pique and partially feigned indifference toward the witty and gallant Benedict, to love. Both have tempers. In fact they reach an agreement to marry as a result of a spirited quarrel.

LES TROYENS
THE TROJANS

PART I. “LA PRISE DE TROIE”
The Capture of Troy

Act I. The Greek camp before Troy. It has been deserted by the Greeks. The people of Troy, rejoicing at what they believe to be the raising of the siege, are bustling about the camp. Many of them, however, are standing amazed about a gigantic wooden horse. There is only one person who does not rejoice, Cassandra, Priam's daughter, whose clairvoyant spirit foresees misfortune. But no one believes her dire prophecies, not even her betrothed, Choroebus, whom she implores in vain to flee.

Act II. In a grove near the walls of the city the Trojan people, with their princes at their head, are celebrating the return of peace. Andromache, however, sees no happiness for herself, since Hector has fallen. Suddenly Æneas hurries in with the news that the priest Laocoon, who had persisted in seeing in the wooden horse only a stratagem of the Greeks, has been strangled by a serpent. Athena must be propitiated; the horse must be taken into the city, to the sacred Palladium, and there set up for veneration. Of no avail is Cassandra's wailing, when the goddess has so plainly indicated her displeasure.

Act III. Æneas is sleeping in his tent. A distant sound of strife awakens him. Hector's Ghost appears to him. Troy is lost; far away, to Italy, must Æneas go, there to found a new kingdom. The Ghost disappears. The priest, Pantheus, rushes in, bleeding from wounds. He announces that Greeks have come out of the belly of the horse and have opened the gates of the city to the Greek army. Troy is in flames. Æneas goes forth to place himself at the head of his men.

The scene changes to the vestal sanctuary in Priam's palace. To the women gathered in prayer Cassandra announces that Æneas has succeeded in saving the treasure and covering a retreat to Mount Ida. But her Choroebus has fallen and she desires to live no longer. Shall she become the slave of a Greek? She paints the fate of the captive woman in such lurid colours that they decide to go to death with her. Just as the Greeks rush in, the women stab themselves, and grief overcomes even the hardened warriors.

PART II. “LES TROYENS À CARTHAGE”
The Trojans in Carthage

Act I. In the summer-house of her palace Dido tells her retainers that the savage Numidian King, Jarbas, has asked for her hand, but she has decided to live only for the memory of her dead husband. Today, however, shall be devoted to festive games. The lyric poet Jopas enters and announces the approach of strangers, who have escaped from the dangers of the sea. They arrive and Ascanius, son of Æneas, begs entertainment for a few days for himself and his companions. This Dido gladly grants them. Her Minister, Narbal, rushes in. The Numidian king has invaded the country. Who will march against him? Æneas, who had concealed himself in disguise among his sailors, steps forth and offers to defend the country against the enemy.

Act II. A splendid festival is in progress in Dido's garden in honour of the victor, Æneas. Dido loves Æneas, who tells her of Andromache, and how, in spite of her grief over Hector, she has laid aside her mourning and given her hand to another. Why should Dido not do likewise? Night closes in, and under its cover both pledge their love and faith.

Has Æneas forgotten his task? To remind him, Mercury appears and strikes resoundingly on the weapons that have been laid aside, while invisible voices call out to Æneas: "Italie!"

Act III. Public festivities follow the betrothal of Dido and Æneas. But Dido's faithful Minister knows that, although Æneas is a kingly lover, it is the will of the gods that the Trojan proceed to Italy; and that to defy the gods is fatal.

Meanwhile the destiny of the lovers is fulfilled. During a hunt they seek shelter from a thunderstorm in a cave. There they seal their love compact. (This scene is in pantomime.)

Act IV. The Trojans are incensed that Æneas places love ahead of duty. They have determined to seek the land of their destiny without him. Finally Æneas awakes from his infatuation and, when the voices of his illustrious dead remind him of his duty, he resolves, in spite of Dido's supplications, to depart at once.

Act V. Early morning brings to Dido in her palace the knowledge that she has lost Æneas forever. She decides not to survive her loss. On the sea beach she orders a huge pyre erected. All the love tokens of the faithless one are fed to the flames. She herself ascends the pyre. Her vision takes in the great future of Carthage and the greater one of Rome. Then she throws herself on her lover's sword.

LA DAMNATION DE FAUST
THE DAMNATION OF FAUST

In the first part of Berlioz's dramatic legend Faust is supposed to be on the Plains of Hungary. Introspectively he sings of nature and solitude. There are a chorus and dance of peasants and a recitative. Soldiers march past to the stirring measures of the "RÁkÓczy March," the national air of Hungary.

This march Berlioz orchestrated in Vienna, during his tour of 1845, and conducted it at a concert in Pesth, when it created the greatest enthusiasm. It was in order to justify the interpolation of this march that he laid the first scene of his dramatic legend on the plains of Hungary. Liszt claimed that his pianoforte transcription of the march had freely been made use of by Berlioz, "especially in the harmony."

In the operatic version Gunsbourg shows Faust in a mediÆval chamber, with a view, through a window, of the sally-port of a castle, out of which the soldiers march. At one point in the march, which Berlioz has treated contrapuntally, and where it would be difficult for marchers to keep step, the soldiers halt and have their standards solemnly blessed.

The next part of the dramatic legend only required a stage setting to make it operatic. Faust is in his study. He is about to quaff poison, when the walls part and disclose a church interior. The congregation, kneeling, sings the Easter canticle, "Christ is Risen." Change of scene to Auerbach's cellar, Leipsic. Revel of students and soldiers. Brander sings the "Song of the Rat," whose death is mockingly grieved over by a "Requiescat in pace" and a fugue on the word "Amen," sung by the roistering crowd. MÉphistophÉlÈs then "obliges" with the song of the flea, in which the skipping about of the elusive insect is depicted in the accompaniment.

In the next scene in the dramatic legend, Faust is supposed to be asleep on the banks of the Elbe. Here is the most exquisite effect of the score, the "Dance of the Sylphs," a masterpiece of delicate and airy illustration. Violoncellos, con sordini, hold a single note as a pedal point, over which is woven a gossamer fabric of melody and harmony, ending with the faintest possible pianissimo from drum and harps. Gunsbourg employed here, with admirable results, the aËrial ballet, and has given a rich and beautiful setting to the scene, including a vision of Marguerite. The ballet is followed by a chorus of soldiers and a students' song in Latin.

The scenic directions of Gounod's "Faust" call Marguerite's house—so much of it as is projected into the garden scene—a pavilion. Gunsbourg makes it more like an arbour, into which the audience can see through the elimination of a supposedly existing wall, the same as in Sparafucile's house, in the last act of "Rigoletto." Soldiers and students are strolling and singing in the street. Marguerite sings the ballad of the King of Thule. Berlioz's setting of the song is primitive. He aptly characterizes the number as a "Chanson Gothique." The "Invocation" of MÉphistophÉlÈs is followed by the "Dance of Will-o'-the-Wisps." Then comes MÉphistophÉlÈs's barocque serenade. Faust enters Marguerite's pavilion. There is a love duet, which becomes a trio when MÉphistophÉlÈs joins the lovers and urges Faust's departure.

Marguerite is alone. Berlioz, instead of using Goethe's song, "Meine Ruh ist hin" (My peace is gone), the setting of which by Schubert is famous, substitutes a poem of his own. The unhappy Marguerite sings, "D'Amour, l'ardente flamme" (Love, devouring fire).

The singing of the students and the soldiers grows fainter. The "retreat"—the call to which the flag is lowered at sunset—is sounded by the drums and trumpets. Marguerite, overcome by remorse, swoons at the window.

A mountain gorge. Faust's soliloquy, "Nature, immense, impÉnÉtrable et fiÈre" (Nature, vast, unfathomable and proud). The "Ride to Hell"; moving panorama; pandemonium; redemption of Marguerite, whom angels are seen welcoming in the softly illumined heavens far above the town, in which the action is supposed to have transpired.

The production by Dr. Leopold Damrosch of "La Damnation de Faust" in its original concert form in New York, was one of the sensational events of the concert history of America. As an opera, however, the work has failed so far to make the impression that might have been expected from its effect on concert audiences; "... the experiment, though tried in various theatres," says Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, "has happily not been permanently successful." Why "happily"? It would be an advantage to operatic art if a work by so distinguished a composer as Berlioz could find a permanent place in the repertoire.

Gounod's "Faust," BoÏto's "Mefistofele," and Berlioz's "La Damnation de Faust" are the only settings of the Faust legend, or, more properly speaking, of Goethe's "Faust," with which a book on opera need concern itself. Gounod's "Faust," with its melodious score, and full of a sentiment that more than occasionally verges on sentimentality, has genuine popular appeal, and is likely long to maintain itself in the repertoire. "Mefistofele," nevertheless, is the profounder work. BoÏto, in his setting, sounds Goethe's drama to greater depths than Gounod. It always will be preferred by those who do not have to be written down to. "La Damnation de Faust," notwithstanding its brilliant and still modern orchestration, is the most truly mediÆval of the three scores. Berlioz himself characterizes the ballad of the King of Thule as "Gothic." The same spirit of the Middle Ages runs through much of the work. In several important details the operatic adaptation has been clumsily made. Were it improved in these details, this "Faust" of Berlioz would have a chance of more than one revival.