and also Mozart's overtures, among

and also Mozart's overtures, among which the one to "Figaro" is a familiar example of an over- ture without a single theme in common with its opera, but none the less induces that mood of genial gayety which is proper to a good in- terpretation of the masterwork. The recent fashion of raising the curtain after a brief prelude of a few measures, is not always to be approved; the hearer is often not sufficiently "warmed up" to enter instantly into the spirit of the opening scene, and in theatres where late-comers are not excluded, disturbances are likely to arise which spoil the enjoyment of the beginning opera for more punctual auditors. Preferable to the very few introductory meas-
ures now in vogue is a real overture which, though short, creates the atmosphere of the coming drama, as in the case of "Carmen" and"Aida." Wehavedweltuponthispoint because the overture or prelude forms, as it were, the very first exposition of the musical drama; besides, the manner in which the musician begins has an important bearing ontheconstructionofthebook. Theoverture may be said to take the place of the Prologue in the antique drama, just as the orchestra, to a degree, replaces the antique Chorus. The modern prologue usual since Shakespeare, and
without connection with the action, is merely an address by the poet; in opera it has been successfully employed but once (by Leon- cavallo in "Pagliacci"), and can be used in the rarest instances, when the subject is peculiarly favorable. The rule is, therefore, that immediately following overture or prelude the rising curtain discloses the scene. Now we must not forget that at this moment the attention of a large majority of the spectators especially of those unacquainted with the piece—is fastened on the stage-picture, so that what is said or sung is just now not of the first importance; rather should the spectator have time to scrutinize the scene of action and the participating personages at his leisure.
An author who loses sight of this fact, and starts in with some material bit of dialogue, will discover to his sorrow that all his trouble was wasted—that no one understood the beginning. In the spoken drama, which, be- sides, usually suffers even more than the opera from disquieting restlessness among the audi- ence, one commonly has recourse to "padding" with unimportant talk of general application, leading into the more significant dialogue only after some minutes. In opera the somewhat
conventional, but not wholly unpractical, method is to start with a chorus whose sole business it is to illustrate musically the time, the place, and the mood, thereafter vanishing from the scene. Nowadays, of course, this procedure can be adopted only when such a chorus can be introduced quite naturally and unconstrainedly, and in that case it helps us out of a certain embarrassment; consider how admirably the chorus of the idly seated soldiers of the watch characterizes the general situa- tion at the beginning of "Carmen," or how significantly the chorus at the opening of "Der Freischiitz" intervenes in the action after the close of their number. In case the chorus takes no important part in the action during the course of the play, it is better to forgo its cooperation entirely, especially as chorus- operas, on account of the numerous rehearsals, are in disfavor with our stage-managements. Another way out of the difficulty, exquisitely employed by Wagner at the opening of "Tann- hauser," is the dance. Its placing in the opera at the beginning of an act is doubtless better justified, dramatically, than the formerly favored injection into a dramatic scene which is thereby brought to a standstill. And still other possibilities present themselves, among which the above-noted song of the Young Sailor at the opening of "Tristan," and the trio of the Rhine-daughters at the beginning of "Rheingold," may be cited as ingenious variationsoftheoldopera-plan. Thechorale with which "Die Meistersinger" opens shows us how that plan may be fruitfully modified; and the opening scene portraying Walter's love for Evchen and her reciprocation thereof shows how, without a single word, only by gesture and orchestral interludes, so important a fact can be most admirably revealed. So mark this point: At the beginning of the first act (and preferably at the beginning of each succeeding act) something ought to stand which, while organically connected with the main plot, must not be of such fundamental importance that the hearer has to take heed of every word. If you dislike the stereotyped chorus, you will probably do better with a pantomimic scene after Wagner's pattern, or at least with a scene where there is more action than dialogue (e.g., beginning of "Figaro"). Not until the spectator's curiosity regarding the characters, decorations and costumes has been satisfied, is there any sense in commencing the real action.
Gustav Freitag called this very first in- troduction into a drama, dealt with above, the "firstchord." Tocarryouttheideaonemight add that this "first chord" should never enter with a dramatic fortissimo, for then all possi- bility of intensification is cut off. However, this "chord" may be struck as firmly and im- pressively as the character of the piece permits; but here one point must be insisted on—ex- treme brevity. Concerning this point you might study, for instance, the beginning of "Lohengrin." The best method is to contrive the opening as a part of the development. Such is the case precisely in "Lohengrin," where the King's address already contains significant details of the plot (the menacing
of the realm by foreign foes, the domestic dissension in Brabant, the King's intention to hold a court).
After the "opening chord" there enters (and preferably, in the sung drama, immedi- ately) the impulsive element, one might call it the"self-starter." Thisimpulsiveelementmay appear in very various shapes, and, first of all, may be brought into the action either
by the "hero" or by his "adversary." To make this point clearer, let us settle in our own minds what we are to understand by the terms intrigue and counter-intrigue in the drama.
Contrast, antagonism, is the life-blood of the drama. It must present, not persons of similar character, but individuals of most various type, and yet all striving to gain the same end; that is, it must present a conflict, be it serious or playful. The persons (characters) sustaining the drama always divide into two groups of antagonistic aim (intrigue and counter-intrigue), which dominate the dra- matic action proper. Thus the action and the grouping of the actors become bipartite, like twohostilecamps. Now,allgreatdramatists observe the elementary rule, not to bestow all the light on one side and all the shadow on the
other. A contest between perfect angels and perfect fiends is not only tiresome, monotonous, and absolutely undramatic; it is, besides, untrue to life in a profounder sense. (Shake- speare's "Othello"- Iago and Desdemona—is only apparently at variance with this rule.) Neither absolutely perfect nor altogether depraved human beings can be found, and it is just the blending of good and evil in each individual that lends a peculiar fascination to his personality. On the stage the sole question is, Which feeling is the more strongly enlisted with regard to a character, our sympathy or our antipathy? A person in whom we dis- cover a bit of ourselves, will always have our sympathy; our antipathy is generally directed against one whose nature differs from ours; we are indifferent towards one who excites neither liking nor dislike. The indifferent character, unhappily a too frequent type in Nature's
limitless production, is not available for the drama. Notasinglepersonoftheindifferent species should confront us on the stage; even the smallest roles ought to arouse our sym- pathy or antipathy to some degree. Now let us examine to what extent the characters of the "hero" and the "villain" have the power to thrill us, positively or negatively. One chief rule of the drama is this—to motivate (i.e., to show the incentives for) each person's
course of action and the development of his character, either for good or for evil. It must be shown how the likable person gets into difficulties precisely on account of his good qualities (but not how he finds himself ac- cidentally in trouble); on the other hand, some adequate motive (and not necessarily one wholly offensive to the auditor) must be found even for the greatest piece of rascal- ity. Intrigue and counter-intrigue must interest us in equal measure, and each party must be thoroughly justified from its own standpoint in doing what it does in the drama. The pointer of the balance should in due course begin to incline only very gradually toward one side or the other. Again we find a lumin- ous example in "Lohengrin," in which the small number of principals can easily be classified in our scheme. Here the intrigue is unquestionably carried on by Lohengrin and Elsa, the counter-intrigue by Telramund andOrtrud. TheKingrepresentstheneutral power of exalted justice, that holds sway without respect of persons.
In the beginning of the action the King is precisely as well affected toward Telramund as toward Elsa; onlv the issue of the ordeal by combat causes him to take Elsa's part decisively. Above all, take note of the fact that Telramund is not the conventional stage- villain, although one may find him played as such on certain mediocre stages. An in- genious device of Wagner's consists in letting Telramund act in perfect good faith until his death, so that all his actions result from this confidence in his rectitude. The King's significant statement, that he knows Tel- ramund to be "the pearl of all virtues," holds good throughout the course of the drama. But it is Telramund's tragic destiny to put blind faith in Ortrud's words, and thus to enmesh himself in wrongdoing.