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Mascagni And His New Opera
by Alma Dalma, Cosmopolitan, 1897
This article was published in 1897 and contains some
imprecisions, in particular in the synopsis of "Iris". It is
presented here as a document. Do not rely too much on the
information presented in this article.
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Mascagni at the Present Time
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Mascagni When He Wrote "Cavalleria Rusticana"
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Possessing the heart of a boy and the soul of a genius, Mascagni, the
maestro, affords an interesting study. He has fully borne out the
promises his talent made as a composer, when a few years ago he first
bounded into world-wide fame as the author of "Cavalleria
Rusticana". At that time, even with the strain of the beautiful
Intermezzo still in their ears, carping critics had had the hardihood
to predict an empty future for Mascagni. "He has already done it all,"
they cried; "he has written his masterpiece first." Time has
abundantly disproved the assertion. His fame as a thorough artist, a
great musician and as a teacher is growing year by year. I venture to
predict that when his new opera, "Iris," is presented in Rome this
winter, these selfsame critics will be less confident of the accuracy
of their judgement. Truly, prophets do not always prophesy.
Just over thirty years of age, brimful of fun, a thorough sportsman,
an excellent billiard player, and possessing all the enthusiasm of a
healthy young man, Mascagni is worshipped in Italy as the brightest
star in the musical heavens - the one whose brilliancy is growing
greater year by year, and whose effulgent glow shall shine on the art
of melody for centuries. His genius it will be that shall retain his
beloved Italy in her present proud place as a foremost land of
musicans and artists whose work has made the lives of men more
pleasant. Yet, with it all, Mascagni is a simple, unaffected young
man, much like other young men. One of the portraits of the maestro
here presented is from his latest photograph and forms a striking
likeness.
I spent nearly all of August with the composer and his wife, at their
lovely home in Pesaro, Italy. They have an immense appartment of
fourteen rooms on the top floor of the Rossini Conservatory, that has
been set aside especially for them - no small honor in
itself. Mrs. Mascagni is a charming little lady of medium height,
blonde, buoyant, impulsive and energetic, managing all of her
husband's correspondence.
The couple has three children - delightful little ones they are,
too. The youngest, a girl, Amaliette, is not quite five; the others
are boys - blond, curly-haired little fellows, whose pretty manners
win instant admiration. Mimi, the elder, has attained the mature age
of seven; Dino, the other, is only six. All are masters of Mascagni,
however, and their will is law.
The home of the Mascagnis is furnished in most artistic fashion. The
dining-room is it antique German style, and Mascagni's study, a small
and very quiet room, holds, like the others, furniture made after
patterns designed by the maestro himself. The drawing-rooms are richly
furnished, and everything is in the best of taste. There is a quiet
elegance that clearly indicates the refinement of the family. One of
the most important rooms in the suite, to Mascagni, is the
billiard-room, for he is locally famous as a knight of the cue and
frequently makes runs that might excite the admiration of a
professional. In fact, Mascagni is versatile to an extraordinary
degree.
It was in this idyllic home that I heard the music of "Iris." It was
beautiful beyond description. When this opera shall be produced there
will very likely be one of those furors that only Italy or France can
create over the work of a talented son.
The scene of "Iris" is laid in Japan, the country that so admirably
lends itself to vast possibilities of romance, scenic effect and
poetic conception. All the quaint and pleasing characteristics of an
interesting people are freely drawn upon. The book, by Illica, the
well-known librettist, is declared by critics like Ricordi to be the
cleverest and best, from a litterary standpoint, of all those of
recent years. It sparkles with wit from beginning to end and yet tells
a simple story in at infinitely pathetic and poetic way. The theme
appears to have appealed to Mascagni's artistic perception with
peculiar force. So great was his enthusiasm, that during the entire
month of August he hardly slept. Music, which dominates the man, was
running riot in his brain, and as he is a firm believer in the therory
of striking while the iron is hot, incessant work was the order of the
hour.
Briefly, the plot of "Iris" is as follows: Iris is an innocent young
Japanese maiden who lives with her old blind father. She does not know
the huge world, or its passions and its weaknesses. To her, the whole
of life is one long dream of goodness and song and happiness. She
sings to the sun and sings to her doll. In this pearl of a child her
father forgets his affliction, and the two are abolutely devoted to
one another. A very pretty scene occurs between father and daughter.
The hero, a rich young Japanese prince, whose admiration for the
beautiful is a ruling passion, sees the girl and hears her sing. His
passion and love are awakened, and the idea of securing possession of
her dominates her mind. By the villainy of his satellites, he succeeds
in stealing her during the poor blind father's absence. This scene is
a most dramatic one. In this act, Iris has a song that is sure to
become as famous as the Intermezzo, for beauty. The tenor and the
father also have splendid opportunities. The scene ends as the father
enters the empty home and calls vainly for his lost child.
The second act is replete with brillancy and color. The scene is laid
in the gayest part of Tokio. The tea-houses are brilliantly
illuminated, the sound of the samisen and koto is heard, pretty
geishas go hither and thither, guests are transported to and fro in
their picturesque jinrikishas, and there is lively action
throughout. Hither Iris has been brought by the wicked prince. Yet she
is still innocent, and firmly believes that the gay world she sees for
the first time is the paradise of which her father has often told her.
Confident that a feature of residence in paradise is the fact that an
inhabitant is gifted with the power to accomplish anything desired,
Iris tries to paint. Alas! the colors will not blend; the result is a
daub; and disappointment follows. She next tries to play the samisen,
but all is discord. At last, in an outburst of childish fury, she
dashes her playthings to the floor and destroys the samisen, and
curses in an artless Japanese way. At this juncture the father, who
has been groping his way all over Tokio in search of Iris, enters and
hears her angry words, and, convinced that all, even honor, is lost to
her, condems, disowns and discards her. Here again the finale is a
grand climax of harmony. All the fire and passion and melody that
Mascagni so well knows how to employ are invoked with great effect.
The play ends with the finding in the early morning of a jewel, by
some Japanese ragpickers. Searching further, they find the body of
Iris - a dramatic and unusual ending, surely, for and opera.
During the second act there is an excellent comic song for the tenor
and a magnificent duet for Iris and the prince. Iris is written in
three acts, or perhaps it would be more correct to say a prologue and
two acts. Several competent critics who have read the libretto and
heard the music at a private hearing in Cerignola, Italy, declare that
success for Iris is a foregone conclusion. Mascagni recently wrote me:
"The book is splendid. If my music pleases, we shall have an enormous
success."
Mascagni's pupils at the Pesaro Lycée are extremely fond of him. At
once magnetic and decided, he well knows how to attain the best
results with any musical material at his command. His efficiency as a
teacher of singing is celebrated, and he is also an accompanist of
rare merit. His leadership inspires confidence. I have seen him do
wonder with an ill-balanced orchestra in a very brief time.
Mascagni's work is done principally in the morning, as he is an early
riser. Then after déjeuner he takes a brief siesta, and, on awaking,
devotes himself to his wife and children. Naturally, he is much sought
after by society, but while he has no aversion to it, he is domestic
in his tastes and prefers not to be lionized. His greatest pleasures
are found in the companionship of musical and artistic people. It is
needless to say that invitations to the Mascagni musicales are much
prized.
The few bars here presented are from the dedication to his latest
success, "Zanetto", an opera in one act, taken from the story of "Le
Passant", by François Coppée, the author of many charming "contes,"
who possesses the faculty so highly regarded by the French, of
unfolding a powerful plot in a short and compact form.
Mascagni is fond of athletic sports. Recently, while playing the rough
Italian game of "pallone", he won a very bad black eye. He only
laughed at the injury, however, and taught the next day with a bandage
over the damaged optic. The incident is slight, but it serves to
illustrate the cheery character of this foremost of contemporaneous
composers.
Undoubtedly, "Iris" will be heard in this country after its production
in Europe, although no definite arrangements to that end have been
made. Mascagni is very anxious to see America, and quite likely will
be present at the first performance here.
Comments, additions, corrections are welcome.
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