oth remind vividly
of Wagner.--Nevertheless the opera met with warm applause, the
principal part being splendidly rendered by Teresa Malten, and the mise
en scene justifying the highest expectations. The beauty of the music
lies principally in its coloring which is often very fine. Its best
parts are the tender songs of the nymphs, those parts which lead into
the realm of dream and of fairy-land.--Once only it soars to a higher
dramatic style; it is in the second act (the one which has undergone an
entire revision), when Bertram, the natural son, bewails his father.--

On the whole the weak libretto forbids every deeper impression. It is
neither natural nor dramatic, and leaves our innermost feelings as cold
as the watery element, from which it springs.

The scene is laid in a French Department on the Upper Rhine, where a
Duchy of Lusignan can never have existed, about the time of the first
Crusade.--The first act shows a forest, peopled by water-nymphs and
fairies, who enjoy their dances in the light of the
full-moon.--Melusine, their princess emerges from her grotto. While
they sing and dance, a hunter's bugle is heard and Count Raymond of
Lusignan appears with Bertram, his half-brother, seeking anxiously for
their father.--Both search on opposite sides; Bertram disappears, while
Raymond, hearing a loud outcry for help, rushes into the bushes whence
it comes, not heeding Melusine's warning, who watches the {219}
proceedings half hidden in her grotto. The nymphs, foreseeing what is
going to happen, break out into lamentations, while Melusine sings an
old tale of the bloody strife of two brothers. She is already in love
with Raymond, whose misfortune she bewails. When he hurries back in
wild despair at having slain his father, whose life he tried to save
from the tusks of a wild boar,--his sword piercing the old man instead
of the beast, (a deed decreed by fate,)--he finds the lovely nymph
ready to console him. She presents him with a draught from the magic
well, which instantly brings him forgetfulness of the past (compare
Nibelung's-ring).--The Count drinks it, and immediately glowing with
love for the beautiful maiden wooes her as his wife. Melusine consents
to the union under the condition that he pledges himself by a solemn
oath, never to blame her, nor to spy her out, should she leave him in
the full-moon nights. Raymond promises, and the sun having risen, the
hunters find him in his bride's company. H