_Place_--A remote castle of Italy, forty years after a Barbarian invasion, led by _Archibaldo_.

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

Bori and Ferrari-Fontana in "The Love of Three Kings"]

This opera is justly considered one of the finest products of modern Italian genius. Based upon a powerful tragedy, by Sem Benelli, one of the foremost of living playwrights in Italy, it is a combination of terse, swiftly moving drama with a score which vividly depicts events progressing fatefully toward an inevitable human cataclysm. While there is little or no set melody in Montemezzi's score, nevertheless it is melodious--a succession of musical phrases that clothe the words, the thought behind them, their significance, their most subtle suggestion, in the weft and woof of expressive music. It is a mediaeval tapestry, the colours of which have not faded, but still glow with their original depth and opulence. Of the many scores that have come out of Italy since the death of Verdi, "L'Amore dei Tre Re" is one of the most eloquent.

Act I. The scene is a s.p.a.cious hall open to a terrace. A lantern employed as a signal sheds its reddish light dimly through the gloom before dawn.

From the left enters _Archibaldo_. He is old with flowing white hair and beard, and he is blind. He is led in by his guide _Flaminio_, who is in the dress of the castle guard. As if he saw, the old blind king points to the door of a chamber across the hall and bids _Flaminio_ look and tell him if it is quite shut. It is slightly open.

_Archibaldo_ in a low voice orders him to shut it, but make no noise, then, hastily changing his mind, to leave it as it is.

In the setting of the scene, in the gloom penetrated only by the glow of the red lantern, in the costumes of the men, in the actions of the old king, who cannot see but whose sense of hearing is weirdly acute, and in the subtle suggestion of suspicion that all is not well, indicated in his restlessness, the very opening of this opera immediately casts a spell of the uncanny over the hearer. This is enhanced by the groping character of the theme which accompanies the entrance of _Archibaldo_ with his guide, depicting the searching footsteps of the blind old man.

[Music]

There is mention of _Fiora_, the wife of _Archibaldo's_ son, _Manfredo_, who is in the north, laying siege to an enemy stronghold.

There also is mention of _Avito_, a prince of Altura, to whom _Fiora_ was betrothed before _Archibaldo_ humbled Italy, but whose marriage to _Manfredo_, notwithstanding her previous betrothal, was one of the conditions of peace. Presumably--as is to be gathered from the brief colloquy--_Archibaldo_ has come into the hall to watch with _Flaminio_ for the possible return of _Manfredo_, but the restlessness of the old king, his commands regarding the door opposite, and even certain inferences to be drawn from what he says, lead to the conclusion that he suspects his son's wife and _Avito_. It is also clear--subtly conveyed, without being stated in so many words--that _Flaminio_, though in the service of _Archibaldo_, is faithful to _Avito_, like himself a native of the country, which _Archibaldo_ has conquered.

When _Flaminio_ reminds _Archibaldo_ that _Avito_ was to have wedded _Fiora_, the blind king bids his guide look out into the valley for any sign of _Manfredo's_ approach. "Nessuno, mio signore! Tutto e pace!" is Flaminio's reply. (No one, my lord! All is quiet!)

[Music]

_Archibaldo_, recalling his younger years, tells eloquently of his conquest of Italy, apostrophizing the ravishing beauty of the country, when it first met his gaze, before he descended the mountains from which he beheld it. He then bids _Flaminio_ put out the lantern, since _Manfredo_ comes not. _Flaminio_ obeys then, as there is heard in the distance the sound of a rustic flute, he urges upon _Archibaldo_ that they go. It is nearly dawn, the flute appears to have been a signal which _Flaminio_ understands. He is obviously uneasy, as he leads _Archibaldo_ out of the hall.

_Avito_ and _Fiora_ come out of her room. The woman's hair hangs in disorder around her face, her slender figure is draped in a very fine ivory-white garment. The very quiet that prevails fills _Avito_ with apprehension. It is the woman, confident through love, that seeks to rea.s.sure him. "Dammi le labbra, e tanta ti dar di questa pace!" (Give me thy lips, and I will give thee of this peace).

[Music]

For the moment _Avito_ is rea.s.sured. There is a brief but pa.s.sionate love scene. Then _Avito_ perceives that the lantern has been extinguished. He is sure someone has been there, and they are spied upon. Once more _Fiora_ tries to give him confidence. Then she herself hears someone approaching. _Avito_ escapes from the terrace into the dim daylight. The door on the left opens and _Archibaldo_ appears alone. He calls "Fiora! Fiora! Fiora!"

Concealing every movement from the old man's ears, she endeavours to glide back to her chamber. But he hears her.

"I hear thee breathing! Thou'rt breathless and excited! O Fiora, say, with whom hast thou been speaking?"

Deliberately she lies to him. She has been speaking to no one. His keen sense tells him that she lies. For when she sought to escape from him, he heard her "gliding thro' the shadows like a snowy wing."

_Flaminio_ comes hurrying in. The gleam of armoured men has been seen in the distance. _Manfredo_ is returning. His trumpet is sounded. Even now he is upon the battlement and embraced by his father. Longing for his wife, _Fiora_, has led him for a time to forsake the siege.

_Fiora_ greets him, but with no more than a semblance of kindness.

With cunning, she taunts _Archibaldo_ by telling _Manfredo_ that she had come out upon the terrace at dawn to watch for him, the truth of which a.s.sertion _Archibaldo_ can affirm, for he found her there. As they go to their chamber, the old man, troubled, suspecting, fearing, thanks G.o.d that he is blind.

Act II. The scene is a circular terrace on the high castle walls. A single staircase leads up to the battlements. It is afternoon. The sky is covered with changing, fleeting clouds. Trumpet blasts are heard from the valley. From the left comes _Manfredo_ with his arms around _Fiora_. He pleads with her for her love. As a last boon before he departs he asks her that she will mount the stairway and, as he departs down the valley, wave to him with her scarf. Sincerely moved to pity by his plea, a request so simple and yet seemingly meaning so much to him, she promises that this shall be done. He bids her farewell, kisses her, and rushes off to lead his men back to the siege.

_Fiora_ tries to shake off the sensation of her husband's embrace. She ascends to the battlemented wall. A handmaid brings her an inlaid casket, from which she draws forth a long white scarf. The orchestra graphically depicts the departure of _Manfredo_ at the head of his cavalcade.

[Music]

_Fiora_ sees the hors.e.m.e.n disappear in the valley. As she waves the veil, her hand drops wearily each time. _Avito_ comes. He tells her it is to say farewell. At first, still touched by the pity which she has felt for her husband, _Fiora_ restrains her pa.s.sionate longing for her lover, once or twice waves the scarf, tries to do so again, lets her arms drop, her head droop, then, coming down the steps, falls into his arms open to receive her, and they kiss each other as if dying of love. "Come tremi, diletto" (How thou art trembling, beloved!) whispers Fiora.

[Music]

"Guarda in su! Siamo in cielo!" (Look up! We are in heaven!) responds _Avito_.

[Music]

But the avenger is nigh. He is old, he is blind, but he knows. _Avito_ is about to throw himself upon him with his drawn dagger, but is stopped by a gesture from _Flaminio_, who has followed the king.

_Avito_ goes. But _Archibaldo_ has heard his footsteps. The king orders _Flaminio_ to leave him with _Fiora_. _Flaminio_ bids him listen to the sound of horses' hoofs in the valley. _Manfredo_ is returning. _Fiora_ senses that her husband has suddenly missed the waving of the scarf. _Archibaldo_ orders _Flaminio_ to go meet the prince.

The old king bluntly accuses _Fiora_ of having been with her lover.

Cowering on a stone bench that runs around the wall, she denies it.

_Archibaldo_ seizes her. Rearing like a serpent, _Fiora_, losing all fear, in the almost certainty of death at the hands of the powerful old man, who holds her, boldly vaunts her lover to him. _Archibaldo_ demands his name, that he and his son may be avenged upon him. She refuses to divulge it. He seizes her by the throat, again demands the name, and when she again refuses to betray her lover, throttles her to death. _Manfredo_ arrives. Briefly the old man tells him of _Fiora's_ guilt. Yet _Manfredo_ cannot hate her. He is moved to pity by the great love of which her heart was capable, though it was not for him.

He goes out slowly, while _Archibaldo_ hoists the slender body of the dead woman across his chest, and follows him.

Act III. The crypt of the castle, where _Fiora_ lies upon her bier with white flowers all about her, and tapers at her head and feet.

Around her, people of her country, young and old, make their moan, while from within the chapel voices of a choir are heard.

Out of the darkness comes _Avito_. The others depart in order that he may be alone with his beloved dead, for he too is of their country, and they know. "Fiora! Fiora!--e silenzio!" (Fiora! Fiora!--Silence surrounds us) are his first words, as he gazes upon her.

[Music: Fiora, Fiora! e silenzio.]

Then, desperately, he throws himself beside her and presses his lips on hers. A sudden chill, as of approaching death, pa.s.ses through him.

He rises, takes a few tottering steps toward the exit.

Like a shadow, _Manfredo_ approaches. He has come to seize his wife's lover, whose name his father could not wring from her, but whom at last they have caught. He recognizes _Avito_. Then it was he whom she adored.

"What do you want?" asks _Avito_. "Can you not see that I can scarcely speak?"

Scarcely speak? He might as well be dead. Upon _Fiora's_ lips _Archibaldo_ has spread a virulent poison, knowing well that her lover would come into the crypt to kiss her, and in that very act would drain the poison from her lips and die. Thus would they track him.

With his last breath, _Avito_ tells that she loved him as the life that they took from her, aye, even more. Despite the avowal, _Manfredo_ cannot hate him; but rather is he moved to wonder at the vast love _Fiora_ was capable of bestowing, yet not upon himself.

_Avito_ is dead. _Manfredo_, too, throws himself upon _Fiora's_ corpse, and from her lips draws in what remains of the poison, quivers, while death slowly creeps through his veins, then enters eternal darkness, as _Archibaldo_ gropes his way into the crypt.

The blind king approaches the bier, feels a body lying by it, believes he has caught _Fiora's_ lover, only to find that the corpse is that of his son.

Such is the love of three kings;--of _Archibaldo_ for his son, of _Avito_ for the woman who loved him, of _Manfredo_ for the woman who loved him not.

Or, if deeper meaning is looked for in Sem Benelli's powerful tragedy, the three kings are in love with Italy, represented by _Fiora_, who hates and scorns the conqueror of her country, _Archibaldo_; coldly turns aside from _Manfredo_, his son and heir apparent with whose hand he sought to bribe her; hotly loves, and dies for a prince of her own people, _Avito_. Tragic is the outcome of the conqueror's effort to win and rule over an unwilling people. Truly, he is blind.

Italo Montemezzi was born in 1875, in Verona. A choral work by him, "Cantico dei Cantici," was produced at the Milan Conservatory, 1900.

Besides "L'Amore dei Tre Re," he has composed the operas "Giovanni Gallurese," Turin, 1905, and "h.e.l.lera," Turin, 1909.

Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari