Operas Every Child Should Know

"The moment the day dawns, bring out the man, and here, on this spot, cut off his head," he commanded. The attendants entered the prison tower, and di Luna, believing himself to be alone, began to sing passionately of Leonora. He thought her dead in the ruins of Castellar, which his soldiers had demolished. While cursing his fate, Leonora came near to him and threw herself at his feet.

"Thou art not dead!" he cried.

"Nay – but I shall die unless you give me Manrico's life," she murmured pleadingly.

"He dies at dawn," di Luna answered.

"Spare him and I will wed thee," she swore. At that di Luna regarded her in amazement.

"You speak the truth?" he demanded, scarcely daring to believe his senses.

"Unbar those gates; let me into his dungeon and take him word that he is free, and I swear to be thy wife," she repeated.

"Hola! You there!" He called to his men. "Show this woman to Manrico's dungeon," he commanded, trembling with joy. Unseen by him, she took a deadly poison from her ring. She would free Manrico with her promise, and before di Luna could reach her she resolved to die. The men stood ready, and she went into the prison with them.

Scene II

In the gloomy tower a lamp swung from the ceiling by a chain, casting a dim uncertain light upon Azucena, whom Manrico had saved from the flames, but who had been imprisoned with him, and was presently to be killed also. She was lying on a low bed with Manrico beside her, and in her half-waking dream anticipated the scorching of the flame, which was soon to be lighted about her. She cried out pitifully.

"Art thou waking, mother?"

"This fearful dungeon, my son! It is a living tomb. But they shall not torture me: I am already dying. I shall be dead before they come to drag me to the stake."

Manrico tried to soothe her to sleep, saying that he would guard her; and gradually the poor wretch slept. As she did so, Leonora slipped into the room, through the door unbarred for her at di Luna's order.

"Leonora! I am dreaming," Manrico muttered.

"Nay, it is I. I have come to save thee. Do not waste a moment. Go!"

"Without thee – never! What have you done? How have you purchased my freedom?" he demanded, shrewdly. "It was by promising to be di Luna's wife," he cried. "Before that can be, I will kill thee and myself." He covered his face with his hands. He was in despair, and Leonora did not at first tell him that she was already dying.

"Go while there is time," she pleaded, feeling the poison in her veins.

Manrico saw her stagger and grow faint. "We shall not part," he whispered, as she fell at his feet! "We shall not part." He lifted her up, but she was already dying.

"Fly before di Luna discovers that I have cheated him," but Manrico still held the dying Leonora to his breast, and at that moment the Count entered.

"I have cheated him," she murmured. "I am dying." Hearing this the Count made an outcry and his guards rushed in.

"Away with him!" he shouted, pointing to Manrico; and Manrico was torn from Leonora, as she sank back dead. He was bound and hustled out, while Azucena was awakened by the confused sounds. She sat up and called desperately:

"Manrico!" Finding him gone and seeing di Luna, "Where hast thou taken him?" she screamed, tearing her gray hair.

"See – " and di Luna dragged her to the barred window. "See! The knife falls – look upon the sight, old fiend." She saw Manrico's head struck from his shoulders as the day dawned. With a frightful shriek she cried:

"Mother, I am avenged! Fiend! he was thy brother!" Di Luna looked first at the dying gipsy, then at the horrid scene below, and staggered back, unable to speak his brother's name. His peace was destroyed forever.

AÏDA

CHARACTERS OF THE OPERA, WITH THE ORIGINAL CASTS AS PRESENTED AT THE FIRST PERFORMANCES

Priests, priestesses, ministers, captains, soldiers, officials, Ethiopian slaves, prisoners, Egyptian populace, etc., etc.

The time of the story is when the Pharaohs were puissant, and the scenes are laid in the cities of Thebes and Memphis.

Composer: Giuseppe Verdi.

Author: A. Ghislanzoni.

The opera was first sung at Cairo, Egypt, December 27, 1871; at Milan, February 8, 1872.

ACT I

All Egypt was troubled with wars and rumours of wars, and in Memphis the court of the King was anxiously awaiting the decision of the Goddess Isis, as to who should lead the Egyptian army against Egypt's enemies. The great hall of the Memphis palace was beautifully ornamented with statues and flowers, and from its colonnades of white marble one could see the pyramids and the palaces of the city. It was in this vast and beautiful hall that Radames, a gallant soldier and favourite of the Egyptian court, met Ramphis, the High Priest, on the day when the Oracle, Isis, was to choose the general of the army.

Isis had already spoken, and Ramphis knew it, but he did not tell Radames. Together they spoke of Radames's loyal wish to serve his people, either as a great general or as a soldier. He was too modest to think that Isis would choose him, out of all the worthy men of the army, to lead the hosts of Egypt. His desire to do valorous deeds was inspired by his love for a slave girl, who attended the Princess Amneris. The slave's name was Aïda. The only thing that saddened him at the moment, was the fact of Aïda being an Ethiopian, for it was the Ethiopians whom the Egyptians were about to war against.

After he had spoken with the Priests, Radames sat down alone, in the hall, and fell to thinking of Aïda. Presently he sang of her loveliness:

[Listen]

Heav'nly Aïda, beauty resplendent,
Radiant flower, blooming and bright;
Queenly thou reignest o'er me transcendent,
Bathing my spirit in beauty's light.

Aïda could not be happy in an alien land, serving the daughter of the King who had been the conqueror of her people, and Radames knew this; but what he didn't know was that the Princess, herself, loved him, and therefore that her jealousy might do Aïda much harm. While he was thus sunk in deep reflection, Amneris, the Princess, entered the hall, attended by her slave. Radames no sooner looked at Aïda than his love could be seen by any one present. He was so sincere and honest that he could not conceal his feelings.

"Ah, Radames, you are very happy to-day! Something has happened to please you! Are you not going to tell me?" Amneris asked, smiling happily at him.

"Nay, Princess," he answered. "I am not more happy than before, only I am thinking of this war that is about to be, and how I should love to do some valiant deed – for us all," he added as an after-thought, but Amneris surprised the look of tenderness that he gave to Aïda. From that moment she watched the lovers closely.

"To-day the Goddess is to decide who shall lead the Egyptians against the Ethiops; I would it were to be I," he sighed. Amneris flushed with anger, as she again saw a look of devotion pass between the slave-girl and Radames, the darling of the court. Still, she pretended to be unsuspicious.

"Is there nothing to attract you in Memphis, that you wish to be off to the war?" she asked, narrowly observing him. Radames, so sensitive and so much in love, saw that he had betrayed his love for Aïda. All three became ill at ease, but the Princess called the slave girl to her, pretending great affection for her, and said:

"Why do you weep, Aïda? Neither you nor Radames seem to be happy to-day."

"Ah, Princess, I weep because of this war rumour. I have known the sadness and terror of war, and the thought of assembled war-hosts gives me pain. It means ruin and despair to so many."

"That is the only the reason for your tears?" she persisted, trying to hide her anger, but her glances belied the softness of her tone. Radames, noting this, trembled for Aïda. Even the life of the girl was in the hands of the Princess, and Radames knew it.

"Ah, my love, you are weeping for something besides a nation, and your blush betrays you," Amneris answered, gently enough, but in her heart she determined to punish the helpless girl. As the scene became more and more painful, trumpets, which always preceded the King's coming, were heard near at hand, and in he came, surrounded by guards, ministers, priests, and officers; a brilliant company, making a brilliant picture.

"Greeting!" he cried, "it is a mighty cause which brings us here together. A messenger has this moment arrived among us with news of great import. I need the support of all the gallant men of my kingdom. Now, messenger, come before us, if thou wilt, and tell thy news," the King cried in a fine and haughty manner, motioning the messenger before him.

"I came to tell thee, Sire, that Egypt is invaded by Ethiop's King, and all her border lands are laid waste. Our crops are destroyed, great havoc hath been wrought, and unless thou shouldst send an army to resist the invading hosts, we are lost."

"Ah, the presumptuous bandit!" the King cried, thus regarding his brother ruler, and it is probable that the King of Ethiopia did not feel more temperately toward the King of the Egyptians.