we know how Berlioz used to try all

we know how Berlioz used to try all manner of experiments during rehearsals, till the right thing was found; and anyone who has assisted at Gustav Mahler's private rehearsals knows how this sensitive conductor was continually contriving new effects in his own works. The old saying that practice makes perfect is nowhere more applicable than in theatrical matters.
The story of "Le Part du Diable"1 is a bit of original invention, though founded on an historical incident. Carlo Broschi (called Fari- nelli), the hero of the opera (born in Naples, June 24, 1705, died in Bologna, July 15,
1782), was possibly the greatest singer of the eighteenth century—a castrato, about whose marvellous singing wondrous tales are told. It is likewise an historical fact that Broschi cured King Philip V of Spain of his deep melancholy by singing to him, at the instance of Queen Elizabeth, a princess of Ferrara. It may be added that the king's melancholy was induced by the death of a son—here Scribe deviates. He lays the scene of the action (probably on account of the plot) in the time of this king's predecessor, Ferdinand VI, and of his queen, Maria Theresia of Portugal. How Scribe originally approached this subject can best be learned from his novel, "Carlo Broschi" (CEuvres completes, Vol. IV, p. 55; Paris, 1859), in which that famous singer is also the central figure, although the story of the opera and that of the novel coincide only in a very short passage near the end.
In his novel, Scribe lets the king's barber tell the following anecdote: "At the beginning of his reign the king was tormented by an ill- ness that nothing could cure. Senor Xuniga, the court physician, had lavished all his art upon it, only to discover that this disease had a strong affinity to one which (as he said) was invented by the English, and which he called 'the spleen.' The king had already twice attempted his own life without assignable reason, and, despite the queen's distraction and the admonitions of Father Anastasius, his father-confessor, it was to be feared that our exalted sovereign would finally succeed in a design which would entail his perdition in this world and the next. For a month he had shut himself up in his apartment, refusing to see anyone excepting the queen, and in spite
of her entreaties and expostulations he obstin- ately rejected all proffered services, even such as were most beneficial for his health and comfort; thus he stubbornly refused to change his underclothing or to allow himself to be shaved! . . . We were all in despair, the queen likewise. She devotedly loved her spouse, yet, seeing his reason and his very life threatened by the gloom of brooding mel- ancholy, she knew no remedy that might save him therefrom, until she suddenly thought of Farinelli, whose voice, so it was said, worked miracles. She begged him to come to Madrid; he was conveyed into a room next the king's. At the first tones of that heavenly voice, the king trembled! 'That is an angel-voice!' he cried. And he listened intently; then, profoundly affected, he fell on his knees and wept, something that had never happened during his illness. 'Once more!' he ex- claimed, 'once more! I must hear those tones again that have refreshed me and re- called me to life!' Farinelli sang again, and the king, now completely restored, threw himself into the queen's arms; thereupon bursting into the adjoining room, he em- braced Farinelli with the exclamation: 'My angel! my deliverer! whoever thou art, ask of me what thou wilt, I'll give it thee—only demand, I will grant it!' And Farinelli responded: 'I beg that Your Majesty will change your underclothing and let yourself
" be shaved!'
This little anecdote, a commixture of the story of Saul and David and the episode be- tween Alexander the Great and Diogenes, was the embryo out of which grew Auber's exciting libretto. Now let us investigate how the ingenious Scribe went about his task. In the first place there was, ready to hand, a tremendously effective situation to be wrought up into a musical and dramatic climax;—the melancholy king is restored to life by the divinely beautiful strains of a youthful singer, and would reward the singer in princely fashion. Beside the king, his loving queen, whose sole desire is the deliverance of her spouse. Thuswealreadyhavethreeprincipals in the action—King, Queen, Singer. A fourth person, the king's father-confessor, is also named; of him Scribe made a representative of gloomy Spanish fanaticism, an inquisitor and—intriguer. By this means Scribe ob- tained a splendid conductor of the "counter- intrigue," and a special effect at the culmin- ation of the action (close of the second act). The plotting of the inquisitor is, to begin with, of a political nature, directed against the queen as a foreigner. Later (in accordance with the counter-intriguer's churchly office) he continues his plotting under the mantle of religion, and this from the moment, as we shall see, when the inquisitor recognizes Carlo as his chief opponent. Carlo, as the de- liverer of the king and, at the same time, of
the queen, is the best foil for the inquisitor. Thus we have, as affecting the king, the conflict of two influences; on the one side fights the inquisitor, on the other the queen with Carlo's assistance. But the inquisitor must also have a helper, this being one Gil Vargas, whose fearsomeness as the inquisitor's accomplice is in the end fully outweighed by the comicality of his behavior, the atmosphere of comedy being thus preserved. Now arises the question, By what means did the inquisitor seek to dominate the king and to estrange him from the queen? Answer: With Vargas's connivance he attempted to press upon him as mistress an innocent young girl, with whom the king fell in love, and whom the inquisitor forcibly conducted to the king through the instrumentality of Vargas. But this young
girl—in love with another man, of course quickly escaped from the toils and fled. Now Scribe also discovers a convincing reason for the king's melancholy; the king believes the maiden to be dead, hence the disorder of his mind. Is not this clever? But better is to come!
The young maiden, who (of course) has no idea that the king was pursuing her, and who had seen no one save Vargas, has (as noted above) a secret lover whose name and rank she does not know (observe how the action turns on these secrets, and how ingeniously Scribe makes it all quite plausible); he had introduced himself, in the millinery establish- ment where the girl is engaged, simply as a student of theology. This lover is, in reality, a Spanish grandee, Rafael de Estuniga, sole heir to an immense fortune, which may be his after the demise of an uncle now on his death- bed. So we have a love-affair, into the bargain. Now notice how astutely Scribe interweaves all these nicely disposed threads. Rafael's teacher is none other than the theologian Vargas, the inquisitor's helper; this is a con- necting-link between the "intrigue" and the "counter-intrigue"; and the young girl, pur- sued by the king and beloved by Rafael, is nobody but—the sister of Carlo Broschi! Thereby a wholly new connecting-link is in- troduced into the plot; Carlo moves the melancholy monarch not merely by any chance song, but by one very special song known only
to himself and his sister. And this song it was that the king had once heard sung by Casilda, Carlo's sister. This accounts for the brooding king's emotion. The song, whose music and words are so devised as to be available in the most momentous situations of the subsequent action, will naturally play a leading part in all three acts. Herewith the plot is already quite clearly indicated, and the principal conflicts and developments established. But now Scribe had another happy thought, which adds just the needful spice to the refection. It is evident that the fate of Rafael and Casilda lies in the hands of Carlo, and that he must take a continuously active part in the course of events. How does Scribe bring this about? With a wholly admirable trick of prestidigita- tion. While Carlo is really the nephew of that enormously rich uncle, it is said uncle's in- tention, in the very shadow of death, to dis- inherit his nephew because, instead of studying theology, he spends his money for fine raiment and feminine adornments, besides running into debt. For Rafael is a full-blooded noble- man of a martial line, who therefore would rather have joined the army; but his attempt to obtain an ensigncy miscarries. So he finds himself in a tight place, with only one way of escape—to sell his soul to the Devil. In guise of the Devil, however, there appears—Carlo Broschi, who has learned by eavesdropping that Rafael is his sister's lover. Rafael strikes a bargain with the "Devil" on a fifty-fifty
basis. Thus the way is cleared for the full swing of Scribe's humorous fancy. Rafael (who finally sees his dearest wishes fulfilled through happy accidents and Carlo's omnipo- tence at court) has to go halves with the "Devil" in everything; in money, in honors, and lastly even in:—his wife. But he also bears with equanimity the less pleasing aspects of life, such as imprisonment and mortal danger, for the risk is not his alone, as he shares everything with his fiendish copartner. Scribe turns all the possible complications to
the best account, and is inexhaustible in his invention of situations bringing Rafael (and Carlo with him) continually into new diffi- culties, out of which, however, they always unexpectedly find their way when the danger is at its height. Thus Scribe rivets our atten- tion till the last moment; further on we shall have an opportunity to admire the masterly
fashion in which he gradually looses the knot. Here only the lines were to be shown, along which the action progresses,

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

we know how Berlioz used to try all manner of experiments during rehearsals, till the right thing was found; and anyone who has assisted at Gustav Mahler's private rehearsals knows how this sensitive conductor was continually contriving new effects in his own works. The old saying that practice makes perfect is nowhere more applicable than in theatrical matters.The story of "Le Part du Diable"1 is a bit of original invention, though founded on an historical incident. Carlo Broschi (called Fari- nelli), the hero of the opera (born in Naples, June 24, 1705, died in Bologna, July 15,1782), was possibly the greatest singer of the eighteenth century—a castrato, about whose marvellous singing wondrous tales are told. It is likewise an historical fact that Broschi cured King Philip V of Spain of his deep melancholy by singing to him, at the instance of Queen Elizabeth, a princess of Ferrara. It may be added that the king's melancholy was induced by the death of a son—here Scribe deviates. He lays the scene of the action (probably on account of the plot) in the time of this king's predecessor, Ferdinand VI, and of his queen, Maria Theresia of Portugal. How Scribe originally approached this subject can best be learned from his novel, "Carlo Broschi" (CEuvres completes, Vol. IV, p. 55; Paris, 1859), in which that famous singer is also the central figure, although the story of the opera and that of the novel coincide only in a very short passage near the end.Trong tiểu thuyết của mình, người ghi chép cho phép hiệu cắt của nhà vua nói với giai thoại sau đây: "ở đầu của triều đại của ông vua dày vò bởi một ill-ness có không có gì có thể chữa trị. Señor Xuniga, bác sĩ tòa án, có lavished tất cả các nghệ thuật của mình khi nó, chỉ để phát hiện ra rằng bệnh này có một ái lực mạnh mẽ để một mà (như ông đã nói) được phát minh bởi người Anh, và ông được gọi là 'lá lách.' Nhà vua đã hai lần có cố gắng cuộc sống riêng của mình mà không có lý do chuyển nhượng, và, mặc dù phân tâm của nữ hoàng và cảnh cha Anastasius, của ông cha là giáo sĩ, nó là để được sợ rằng chúng tôi có chủ quyền sôi nổi cuối cùng sẽ thành công trong một thiết kế mà sẽ đòi hỏi của mình diệt vong trong thế giới này và tiếp theo. Cho một tháng ông đã đóng mình trong căn hộ của mình, từ chối gặp bất cứ ai trừ nữ hoàng, và mặc dùof her entreaties and expostulations he obstin- ately rejected all proffered services, even such as were most beneficial for his health and comfort; thus he stubbornly refused to change his underclothing or to allow himself to be shaved! . . . We were all in despair, the queen likewise. She devotedly loved her spouse, yet, seeing his reason and his very life threatened by the gloom of brooding mel- ancholy, she knew no remedy that might save him therefrom, until she suddenly thought of Farinelli, whose voice, so it was said, worked miracles. She begged him to come to Madrid; he was conveyed into a room next the king's. At the first tones of that heavenly voice, the king trembled! 'That is an angel-voice!' he cried. And he listened intently; then, profoundly affected, he fell on his knees and wept, something that had never happened during his illness. 'Once more!' he ex- claimed, 'once more! I must hear those tones again that have refreshed me and re- called me to life!' Farinelli sang again, and the king, now completely restored, threw himself into the queen's arms; thereupon bursting into the adjoining room, he em- braced Farinelli with the exclamation: 'My angel! my deliverer! whoever thou art, ask of me what thou wilt, I'll give it thee—only demand, I will grant it!' And Farinelli responded: 'I beg that Your Majesty will change your underclothing and let yourself" be shaved!'This little anecdote, a commixture of the story of Saul and David and the episode be- tween Alexander the Great and Diogenes, was the embryo out of which grew Auber's exciting libretto. Now let us investigate how the ingenious Scribe went about his task. In the first place there was, ready to hand, a tremendously effective situation to be wrought up into a musical and dramatic climax;—the melancholy king is restored to life by the divinely beautiful strains of a youthful singer, and would reward the singer in princely fashion. Beside the king, his loving queen, whose sole desire is the deliverance of her spouse. Thuswealreadyhavethreeprincipals in the action—King, Queen, Singer. A fourth person, the king's father-confessor, is also named; of him Scribe made a representative of gloomy Spanish fanaticism, an inquisitor and—intriguer. By this means Scribe ob- tained a splendid conductor of the "counter- intrigue," and a special effect at the culmin- ation of the action (close of the second act). The plotting of the inquisitor is, to begin with, of a political nature, directed against the queen as a foreigner. Later (in accordance with the counter-intriguer's churchly office) he continues his plotting under the mantle of religion, and this from the moment, as we shall see, when the inquisitor recognizes Carlo as his chief opponent. Carlo, as the de- liverer of the king and, at the same time, ofnữ hoàng, là lá tốt nhất cho inquisitor. Do đó chúng tôi có, như là ảnh hưởng đến nhà vua, cuộc xung đột của hai ảnh hưởng; một bên chiến đấu inquisitor, mặt khác nữ hoàng với sự hỗ trợ của Carlo. Nhưng inquisitor cũng phải có một helper, này là một Gil Vargas, mà fearsomeness như của inquisitor lõa là cuối cùng hoàn toàn outweighed do comicality hành vi của mình, bầu không khí của phim hài được bảo tồn như vậy. Bây giờ đặt ra câu hỏi, bởi những gì có nghĩa là đã làm inquisitor tìm kiếm thống trị nhà vua và estrange anh ta từ nữ hoàng? Trả lời: Với thông đồng Vargas của ông đã cố gắng nhấn khi anh ta là tình nhân một cô gái trẻ vô tội, với người mà nhà vua đem lòng yêu, và người mà inquisitor buộc phải tiến hành cho vua qua instrumentality Vargas. Nhưng này trẻcô gái — trong tình yêu với một người đàn ông, tất nhiên một cách nhanh chóng thoát khỏi các toils và bỏ chạy. Bây giờ người ghi chép cũng phát hiện ra một lý do thuyết phục của vua melancholy; vua tin rằng người thiếu nữ phải chết, vì thế rối loạn của tâm trí của mình. Không phải là thông minh? Nhưng tốt hơn là tới!The young maiden, who (of course) has no idea that the king was pursuing her, and who had seen no one save Vargas, has (as noted above) a secret lover whose name and rank she does not know (observe how the action turns on these secrets, and how ingeniously Scribe makes it all quite plausible); he had introduced himself, in the millinery establish- ment where the girl is engaged, simply as a student of theology. This lover is, in reality, a Spanish grandee, Rafael de Estuniga, sole heir to an immense fortune, which may be his after the demise of an uncle now on his death- bed. So we have a love-affair, into the bargain. Now notice how astutely Scribe interweaves all these nicely disposed threads. Rafael's teacher is none other than the theologian Vargas, the inquisitor's helper; this is a con- necting-link between the "intrigue" and the "counter-intrigue"; and the young girl, pur- sued by the king and beloved by Rafael, is nobody but—the sister of Carlo Broschi! Thereby a wholly new connecting-link is in- troduced into the plot; Carlo moves the melancholy monarch not merely by any chance song, but by one very special song known onlyto himself and his sister. And this song it was that the king had once heard sung by Casilda, Carlo's sister. This accounts for the brooding king's emotion. The song, whose music and words are so devised as to be available in the most momentous situations of the subsequent action, will naturally play a leading part in all three acts. Herewith the plot is already quite clearly indicated, and the principal conflicts and developments established. But now Scribe had another happy thought, which adds just the needful spice to the refection. It is evident that the fate of Rafael and Casilda lies in the hands of Carlo, and that he must take a continuously active part in the course of events. How does Scribe bring this about? With a wholly admirable trick of prestidigita- tion. While Carlo is really the nephew of that enormously rich uncle, it is said uncle's in- tention, in the very shadow of death, to dis- inherit his nephew because, instead of studying theology, he spends his money for fine raiment and feminine adornments, besides running into debt. For Rafael is a full-blooded noble- man of a martial line, who therefore would rather have joined the army; but his attempt to obtain an ensigncy miscarries. So he finds himself in a tight place, with only one way of escape—to sell his soul to the Devil. In guise of the Devil, however, there appears—Carlo Broschi, who has learned by eavesdropping that Rafael is his sister's lover. Rafael strikes a bargain with the "Devil" on a fifty-fiftybasis. Thus the way is cleared for the full swing of Scribe's humorous fancy. Rafael (who finally sees his dearest wishes fulfilled through happy accidents and Carlo's omnipo- tence at court) has to go halves with the "Devil" in everything; in money, in honors, and lastly even in:—his wife. But he also bears with equanimity the less pleasing aspects of life, such as imprisonment and mortal danger, for the risk is not his alone, as he shares everything with his fiendish copartner. Scribe turns all the possible complications to the best account, and is inexhaustible in his invention of situations bringing Rafael (and Carlo with him) continually into new diffi- culties, out of which, however, they always unexpectedly find their way when the danger is at its height. Thus Scribe rivets our atten- tion till the last moment; further on we shall have an opportunity to admire the masterlyfashion in which he gradually looses the knot. Here only the lines were to be shown, along which the action progresses,