The _Duke_ steps out of the tree's shadow, motions to _Giovanna_ to retire and, throwing himself at _Gilda's_ feet, takes the words out of her mouth by exclaiming, "I love thee!"

No doubt taken by surprise, yet also thrilled with joy, she hearkens to him rapturously as he declares, "e il sol dell'anima, la vita e amore" (Love is the sun by which pa.s.sion is kindled).

[Music: e il sol dell'anima, la vita e amore,]

The meeting is brief, for again there are footsteps outside. But their farewell is an impa.s.sioned duet, "Addio speranza ed anima" (Farewell, my hope, my soul, farewell).

He has told her that he is a student, by name Walter Malde. When he has gone, she muses upon the name, and, when she has lighted a candle and is ascending the steps to her room, she sings the enchanting coloratura air, "Caro nome che il mio cor" (Dear name, my heart enshrines).

[Music:

Caro nome che il mio cor Festi primo palpitar,]

If the _Gilda_ be reasonably slender and pretty, the scene, with the courtyard, the steps leading up to the room, and the young maiden gracefully and tenderly expressing her heart's first romance, is charming, and in itself sufficient to account for the attraction which the role holds for prima donnas.

Tiptoeing through the darkness outside come _Marullo_, _Ceprano_, _Borsa_, and other n.o.bles and courtiers, intent upon seeking revenge for the gibes _Rigoletto_ at various times has aimed at them, by carrying off the damsel, whom they a.s.sume to be his inamorata. At that moment, however, the jester himself appears. They tell him they have come to abduct the _Countess Ceprano_ and bear her to the Ducal palace. To substantiate this statement _Marullo_ quickly has the keys to _Ceprano's_ house pa.s.sed to him by the _Count_, and in the darkness holds them out to _Rigoletto_, who, his suspicions allayed because he can feel the Ceprano crest in ba.s.so-relievo on the keys, volunteers to aid in the escapade. _Marullo_ gives him a mask and, as if to fasten it securely, ties it with a handkerchief, which he pa.s.ses over the piercings for the eyes. _Rigoletto_, confused, holds a ladder against what he believes to be the wall of _Ceprano's_ house. By it, the abductors climb his own wall, enter his house, gag, seize, and carry away _Gilda_, making their exit from the courtyard, but in their hurry failing to observe a scarf that has fluttered from their precious burden.

_Rigoletto_ is left alone in the darkness and silence. He tears off his mask. The door to his courtyard is open. Before him lies _Gilda's_ scarf. He rushes into the house, into her room; reappears, staggering under the weight of the disaster, which, through his own unwitting connivance, has befallen him.

"Ah! La maledizione!" he cries out. It is _Monterone's_ curse.

Act II has its scene laid in the ducal palace. This salon has large folding doors in the background and smaller ones on each side, above which are portraits of the _Duke_ and of the d.u.c.h.ess, a lady who, whether from a sense of delicacy or merely to serve the convenience of the stage, does not otherwise appear in the opera.

The _Duke_ is disconsolate. He has returned to _Rigoletto's_ house, found it empty. The bird had flown. The scamp mourns his loss--in affecting language and music, "Parmi veder le lagrime" (Fair maid, each tear of mine that flows).

In a capital chorus he is told by _Marullo_ and the others that they have abducted _Rigoletto's_ inamorata.

[Music: Scorrendo uniti remota via]

The _Duke_ well knows that she is the very one whose charms are the latest that have enraptured him. "Possente amor mi chiama" (To her I love with rapture).

He learns from the courtiers that they have brought her to the palace.

He hastens to her, "to console her," in his own way. It is at this moment _Rigoletto_ enters. He knows his daughter is in the palace. He has come to search for her. Aware that he is in the presence of those who took advantage of him and thus secured his aid in the abduction of the night before, he yet, in order to accomplish his purpose, must appear light-hearted, question craftily, and be diplomatic, although at times he cannot prevent his real feelings breaking through. It is the ability of Verdi to give expression to such varied emotions which make this scene one of the most significant in his operas. It is dominated by an orchestral motive, that of the clown who jests while his heart is breaking.

[Music: La ra, la ra, la la, la ra, la ra, la ra, la ra etc.]

Finally he turns upon the crowd that taunts him, hurls invective upon them; and, when a door opens and _Gilda_, whose story can be read in her aspect of despair, rushes into his arms, he orders the courtiers out of sight with a sense of outrage so justified that, in spite of the flippant words with which they comment upon his command, they obey it.

Father and daughter are alone. She tells him her story--of the handsome youth, who followed her from church--"Tutte le feste al tempio" (One very festal morning).

Then follows her account of their meeting, his pretence that he was a poor student, when, in reality, he was the _Duke_--to whose chamber she was borne after her abduction. It is from there she has just come.

Her father strives to comfort her--"Piangi, fanciulla" (Weep, my child).

At this moment he is again reminded of the curse p.r.o.nounced upon him by the father whose grief with him had been but the subject of ribald jest. _Count Monterone_, between guards, is conducted through the apartment to the prison where he is to be executed for denouncing the _Duke_. Then _Rigoletto_ vows vengeance upon the betrayer of _Gilda_.

But such is the fascination which the _Duke_ exerts over women that _Gilda_, fearing for the life of her despoiler, pleads with her father to "pardon him, as we ourselves the pardon of heaven hope to gain,"

adding, in an aside, "I dare not say how much I love him."

It was a corrupt, carefree age. Victor Hugo created a debonair character--a libertine who took life lightly and flitted from pleasure to pleasure. And so Verdi lets him flit from tune to tune--gay, melodious, sentimental. There still are plenty of men like the _Duke_, and plenty of women like _Gilda_ to love them; and other women, be it recalled, as discreet as the d.u.c.h.ess, who does not appear in this opera save as a portrait on the wall, from which she calmly looks down upon a jester invoking vengeance upon her husband, because of the wrong he has done the girl, who weeps on the breast of her hunchback father.

To Act III might be given as a sub-t.i.tle, "The Fool's Revenge," the t.i.tle of Tom Taylor's adaptation into English of Victor Hugo's play.

The scene shows a desolate spot on the banks of the Mincio. On the right, with its front to the audience, is a house two stories high, in a very dilapidated state, but still used as an inn. The doors and walls are so full of crevices that whatever is going on within can be seen from without. In front are the road and the river; in the distance is the city of Mantua. It is night.

The house is that of _Sparafucile_. With him lives his sister, _Maddalena_, a handsome young gypsy woman, who lures men to the inn, there to be robbed--or killed, if there is more money to be had for murder than for robbery. _Sparafucile_ is seen within, cleaning his belt and sharpening his sword.

Outside are _Rigoletto_ and _Gilda_. She cannot banish the image of her despoiler from her heart. Hither the hunchback has brought her to prove to her the faithlessness of the _Duke_. She sees him in the garb of a soldier coming along the city wall. He descends, enters the inn, and calls for wine and a room for the night. Shuffling a pack of cards, which he finds on the table, and pouring out the wine, he sings of woman. This is the famous "La donna e mobile" (Fickle is woman fair).

[Music:

La donna e mobile Qual piuma al vento,]

It has been highly praised and violently criticized; and usually gets as many encores as the singer cares to give. As for the criticisms, the cadenzas so ostentatiously introduced by singers for the sake of catching applause, are no more Verdi's than is the high C in "Il Trovatore." The song is perfectly in keeping with the _Duke's_ character. It has grace, verve, and buoyancy; and, what is an essential point in the development of the action from this point on, it is easily remembered. In any event I am glad that among my operatic experiences I can count having heard "La donna e mobile" sung by such great artists as Campanini, Caruso, and Bonci, the last two upon their first appearances in the role in this country.

At a signal from _Sparafucile_, _Maddalena_ joins the _Duke_. He presses his love upon her. With professional coyness she pretends to repulse him. This leads to the quartet, with its dramatic interpretation of the different emotions of the four partic.i.p.ants. The _Duke_ is gallantly urgent and pleading: "Bella figlia dell'amore"

(Fairest daughter of the graces).

[Music]

_Maddalena_ laughingly resists his advances: "I am proof, my gentle wooer, 'gainst your vain and empty nothings."

[Music]

_Gilda_ is moved to despair: "Ah, thus to me of love he spoke."

[Music]

_Rigoletto_ mutters of vengeance.

It is the _Duke_ who begins the quartet; _Maddalena_ who first joins in by coyly mocking him; _Gilda_ whose voice next falls upon the night with despairing accents; _Rigoletto_ whose threats of vengeance then are heard. With the return of the theme, after the first cadence, the varied elements are combined.

They continue so to the end. _Gilda's_ voice, in brief cries of grief, rising twice to effective climaxes, then becoming even more poignant through the syncopation of the rhythm.

Rising to a beautiful and highly dramatic climax, the quartet ends pianissimo.

This quartet usually is sung as the piece de resistance of the opera, and is supposed to be the great event of the performance. I cannot recall a representation of the work with Nilsson and Campanini in which this was not the case, and it was so at the Manhattan when "Rigoletto" was sung there by Melba and Bonci. But at the Metropolitan, since Caruso's advent, "Rigoletto" has become a "Caruso opera," and the stress is laid on "La donna e mobile," for which numerous encores are demanded, while with the quartet, the encore is deliberately side-stepped--a most interesting process for the initiated to watch.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by Hall

The Quartet in "Rigoletto"

The Duke (Sheehan), Maddalena (Albright), Gilda (Easton), Rigoletto (Goff)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Riccardo Martin as Manrico in "Il Trovatore"]

After the quartet, _Sparafucile_ comes out and receives from _Rigoletto_ half of his fee to murder the _Duke_, the balance to be paid when the body, in a sack, is delivered to the hunchback.

_Sparafucile_ offers to throw the sack into the river, but that does not suit the fool's desire for revenge. He wants the grim satisfaction of doing so himself. Satisfied that _Gilda_ has seen enough of the _Duke's_ perfidy, he sends her home, where, for safety, she is to don male attire and start on the way to Verona, where he will join her. He himself also goes out.