#armide

[illustratus]

Renaud and Armide by François-André Vincent

[doyouknowthisopera]

[lorenzospurio]

N.E. 02/2024 - Intervista a Silvio Aman. A cura di Adriana Gloria Marigo

La sua ricerca, partendo da Armide e andando a ritroso attraversando le ultime sillogi Garten e Sonetti fosforescenti entra nelle stanze dell’Humanitas e del Logos, in un incontro con l’inestinguibile rapporto tra Essere ed Essenza e con la provvisorietà dell’Esistenza. Anche in quest’ultima raccolta, Armide,si può scorgere la metafora del reale nelle numerose figurazioni immaginifiche…

[mtonino]

Aria (1987)

episode 3 - Enfin El Est ma Puissance - Jean-Luc Godard

Inspired to Armide - Jean-Baptiste Lully

Aria, 1987

[comtessezouboff]

La Galerie des Cotelles Set

A retexture by La Comtesse Zouboff — Original Mesh by @thejim07

At the very moment when Louis XIV wrote the first version of 《Manière de montre les jardins de Versailles》, he expressed his desire to recreate his words as images.

In 1688, he comissioned an outstanding set of 24 paintings describing the different groves in gardens with mythological allegories to be placed in the galerie at the Trianon de Marbre.

The ornamentation of the gallery linking Trianon to Trianon-sous-bois was entrusted to three painters between 1688 and 1689: Jean Cotelle painted twenty-one of the twenty-four canvases hung in this room, Etienne Allegrain two others, and Jean-Baptiste Martin.

This gallery, decorated around 1690, bears the name of the author of most of the paintings which appear there and which represent views of the groves of Versailles and Trianon, embellished with mythological figures.

This set remained in place until the First Empire. Napoleon I considered replacing them with paintings to his glory. The works will return to their original location in 1913 after being restored to 《La Colection Royale》 by Louis Philippe and can be seen there to this day.

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This set contains 24 paintings with the original frame swatches, fully recolourable. They are:

View of the Amphitheater of the Grove of the Théâtre d'Eau with the Toilette of Psyche.

View of the Bassin du Dragon and the Gutter of the Neptune Fountain with Apollo Slaying the Serpent Python.

View of the Colonnade Grove with Apollo Served by the Nymphs.

View of the Entrance of the Labyrinth Grove with Nymphs and Cupid Catching Birds in their Nets.

View of the Fountain of the Fifty-Two Jets, or Plat-Fond at the Trianon with Mars and Venus.

View of the Grove of l'Encelade with Jupiter Slaying Enceladus the Giant with the Feast of Lycaon.

View of the Grove of L'Étoile or la Montagne d'Eau with Diana Saving Arethusa from Alpheus.

View of the Grove of the Arc de Triomphe Towards the Fountain of La France Triomphante with Nymphs Chaining Captives.

View of the Grove of the Arc de Triomphe with Venus and Adonis on a Chariot Driven by Cupid.

View of the Grove of the Baths of Apollo or des Dômes with Diana and her Nymphs.

View of the Grove of the Labyrinth Showing the Fountain of the Fight of the Animals and the Two Fountains of the Fox and the Crane with Diana and the Nymphs.

View of the Grove of the Salle de Bal with Armide Crowning Renaud.

View of the Grove of the Théâtre d'Eau with the Toilette of Psyche.

View of the Marais or Chêne-Vert Grove with Nymphs Playing Various Games.

View of the Neptune Fountain, the Bassin du Dragon and the Allée d'Eau with the Judgement of Paris.

View of the Orangerie and the Palace from the Pièce d'Eau des Suisses with the Abduction of Helen of Troy.

View of the Orangerie of Versailles and the Pièce d'Eau des Suisses with Vertumnus and Pomona.

View of the Parterre d'Eau with the Apotheosis of Venus.

View of the Parterres of the Trianon de Marbre with Zephyrus and Sleeping Flora

View of the Trois-Fontaines Grove with Garden Loves.

View of the Trois-Fontaines Grove with Venus and the Nymphs.

View of the Feast or Council Room Grove in the Palace of Versailles.

View of the Grove of the Miroir d'Eau Fountain and the Île-Royale in the Palace of Versailles.

Perspective view of the Grove of the Galerie des Antiques.

Found under decor > paintings for 1.850§

(you can just search for "Cotelle" using the catalog search mod to find the entire ser much easier!)

Retextured from:"The virgin of the Rosary" found here

Disclaimer!

All of the paintings shown here aren't as blurry as in the screenshots and its colors are more vibrant in-game!

Cc shown here:

Walls, door and bench by @thejim07

Floor by @martassimsbookcc

Windows by @missyzim

Chandelier and garland by @hydrangeachainsaw

Pediment by Mutske (TSR)

Consoles by ShinoKCR (TSR)

Drive

(Sims3Pack | Package)

(Useful tags below)

@joojconverts @ts3history @ts3historicalccfinds @deniisu-sims @katsujiiccfinds @gifappels-stuff

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[gluecookie]

i saw armide today at drottningholms slottsteater and la haine my gay little devil dude you were the best. you and your little dancing gay mates from hell

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

François Boucher (French, 1703-1770) Renaud et Armide, 1734 Musée du Louvre

[la-merlaison]

Hey hey hey I'ts me again and I came with another nerdy Louis post!!

Okay guys, the time has finally come! I'm not strong in french at all (for now) but my half french friend kind of is, so I asked them for some help during my research and I hope it turned out okay!!

So, no time to explain, right now we suggest you make yourself a cup of tea and prepare some marzipans (or at least omelettes if u don't have marzipans) because it's going to be a very big and really grandiose post!

Exactly 407 years ago, on sunday, Jan 29th, a huge intrigued crowd gathered in a giant ballroom of the Louvre palace to watch a truly legendary event in the history of France... Still very young King Louis XIII paid extremely close attention to the preparation of the ballet, as his doctor Jean Héroard noted on January 19th: "He rehearses his ballet twice a day."

Why all this mishmash of sentences, you may ask? *ahem* Lemme explain from the very start... (those who already know of all the drama between Louis and his mom, feel free to skip a couple of paragraphs but if you'd still love to dive even deeper into this rabbit hole and connect two dots then let's go!!)

When little dauphin lost his father (Henri IV) at the age of 8, he was still too young to be a king, so for quite a long time his mother Marie de Medici had to take the place of a regent. And it was all cute and stuff, except for the dauphin had already turned 13 for a year and a half (it was considered the age of majority and gaining power over the state at the time) and Mary did not even think of giving up her career, and especially leaving the throne, no matter how pissed off the young king was because of all the ridiculous formality of his "reign".

He was even more disturbed and frankly enraged by the favorite of the Medici - Concino Concini, who had a terrible effect on his mother according to the prince's beliefs (not only his beliefs at all but let's focus on our blorbo's pov). But don't worry! In January Louis along with his friend, with whom he loved to spend time and in general was emotionally very close, conceived how to end this exhaustingly endless regency, which already had a questioning reputation... And I guess it meant, that the time has come for truly dazzling performances in every single way!

Among all the options proposed by Etienne Durand, the court poet of Marie de Medici (he's also responsible for organizing the performance), the king chose a very specific plot which was taken from the old chivalric poem “Jerusalem Delivered” by Torquato Tasso, as if this choice carried a certain kind of symbolism, but what it really meant??

Keep in mind, Louis really chose the following plot himself: "The valiant knight Renaud de Montauban, played by Charles d'Albert (that one close friend and favorite of the king I mentioned before), succumbs to the charms of the sorceress Armide, who takes him into her enchanted gardens and... enchants him (wow who would've thought)! However, his comrades, including Godeffroy de Bouillon (edit. I accidentally thought that Godeffroy and the demon of fire were the same character, but actually they were two different characters both played by Louis XIII oops) came to save Renaud and break Armide's spell."

Finally, on Sunday, January 29th, 1617, the premiere of "The ballet of Renaud's deliverance" eventually happened yayy, but the crowd was so huge that even the king(!) could hardly make his way through such a large audience, the performance even had to be slightly delayed. But it was worth the wait, because in the end everyone were struck by the fiery appearance of an impressive figure in a black mask, covered from top to bottom with flames. It was the king (OUR BLORBO YASS)!! You can see his costume on the first pic below under the number 1 and Charles as Renaud right above him.

It's believed that the ballet about the liberation of Renaud from the spell of the sorceress Armide has a symbolic, even double meaning. Many people recognize Louis himself in Renaud, who seeks to free himself from the oppression of Marie (as if from the spell of Armide). One of the lyricists of "The Deliverance of Renaud", Rene Bordieu, even compared the fiery image of the king with a phoenix, which could hint at the rise from the ashes because it also sounds like an allegory to getting rid off the pressure. Etienne Durand himself also said a lot of different words related to the costume, but there are so many of them that it is better to leave them for another post idk...

Anyways, each of these versions is wonderful in its own way, but the clothes of flame, which Louis demonstrated on himself that day, symbolized not only anger and a burning desire for revenge, but also those were clothes made of the light of justice and the desire for something light and devine like the enameled blades that reflected the light of countless torches and candles in motion, illuminating a hall full of spectators blinded by such a perfomance both literally and figuratively.

Plot twist.... On April 24, 1617, less than three months after the performance of La Délivrance de Renaud, Concino Concini was assassinated by the Baron de Vitry, captain of the royal guard. And about ten days later, Marie de Medici was exiled to Blois =)

Since then, Louis XIII became, in fact, a king but this time with all seriousness!

Well, I hope you enjoyed the post and had a great time with it! Wishing you justice, deliverances, marzipan & omelettes and a guarantee that no one will ever sit for too long on your throne, gotta love anyone who read this 'till the end <3

[princess-geek]

"The Hollywood Theatre"

Duke of Holly (Thomas Hunt) x Lady Alexandra Spencer (Alex Spencer)

Thomas Hunt, the Duke of Holly, returns to England after years living abroad.

He is outrageously rich and fairly handsome, despite having already passed the thirty-year-old barrier. Among the ton was a universally accepted truth that a man of his wealth and status should look for a wife. The ton tried to tempt him; however, neither debutantes nor spinsters nor widows seemed to please him. In fact, he rarely appears at social events.

According to gossip, the fault lay with a French opera singer named Yvonne, whom he had followed all over the world and who broke his heart by marrying an American merchant.

Only one thing seemed to spark any kind of passion in him: the opera.

In a great declaration of love for that art, he buys the old "Wood Theatre" in London, restoring it. The newspapers dubbed it "The Hollywood Theatre".

Determined to make his theatre a reflection of "The Palais Garnier", the duke hires artists from all over the world, administering it with rigour and discipline. Of all the rules, there's one he's especially strict about: romance, only on stage. Falling in love behind the scenes was a cardinal sin for him.

However, his biggest dream was not yet fulfilled. He had been composing an opera for years - "The Last Duchess". It was finally ready, but there was a major problem - none of the singers he had met so far were the "Duchess" he had imagined on those many sleepless nights.

Despite being told that his criteria were impossible to meet, Thomas was determined to find her, even if it was the last thing he did in his life.

Escaping an arranged marriage and family expectations, Lady Alexandra Spencer arrives in London with a single dream - to become the prima donna.

When she read in the newspaper that "The Hollywood Theatre" was looking for new singers, Alexandra felt it was a sign.

After two days in line, it was finally her turn. Despite being a mess, exhausted from the waiting and the nerves, Alexandra took a leap of faith and changed her repertoire at the last minute, risking everything with “Armide”

Immediately recognizing the opera, Thomas was about to order her to stop. That was a very difficult opera. A girl like her would never make it. It was blasphemy. Notwithstanding, contrary to his first instinct, the Duke listened to her until the end.

She made some mistakes, had some mistakes typical of a beginner, but she sang with an emotion and intensity that touched his soul.

So, to the astonishment of everyone at the theatre, Thomas not only hired her but also gave her the role of the 'Duchess'.

Despite her natural talent, Alexandra lacked the refinement of a diva that the Duke of Holly idealized. Because of her stubbornness in correcting certain so-called "defects", Thomas took charge of the mission to become Alexandra the perfect prima dona.

However, as he learns about Lady Alexandra, or 'Alex' as she insists on being called (despite him finding it a ridiculous name), the Duke of Holly realizes that they are precisely her apparent flaws that make her unique and special among all other singers... and among all other women.

During the intensive months of rehearsals, Alex discovered that behind the mask of the demanding and rational man, there is a sweet and kind heart that rivals any romantic protagonist in operas.

Refusing to be just Thomas' platonic love, Alex prepares to leave London and move to Paris at the invitation of the new director of the " The Palais Garnier", Victor Montmartre.

Will the Duke of Holly follow his heart? Or will he play it safe and spend the rest of his days just living the loves sung in operas?

Dear, @storyofmychoices

I hope you like these silly Thomas and Alex AU headcanons.

They are incredible, and I never get tired of hearing from them. Only someone as special as you could have created them.

[kadunudtarkus]

Astelpaju

Hippophae rhamnoides L., Elaeagnaceae

Harilik astelpaju, harilik okaspaju, siberi ananass

Buckthorn, sea-buckthorn

Astelpaju kasvab parkides ja aedades kuni 2m kõrguse ilupõõsana. See on polüvitamiinne ravimtaim.

Ravimina kasutatakse viljadest saadud õli. Marju korjatakse septembris ja oktoobris.

Astelpaju on valuvaigistava toimega, seda kasutatakse kiirituskahjustuse vältimiseks ja raviks, ka haavandtõve puhul. Välispidiselt tarvitatakse haavade tervenemiseks, armide tekke võimaluse vähendamiseks ja günekoloogilisteks haigusteks.

Korjatakse septembris ja oktoobris.

Kirjeldus

Harilik astelpaju kasvab parkides ja aedades kuni 2m kõrguse ilupõõsana. Põõsad on kahekojalised, asteldega, õitsevad lehistumise ajal. Lehed vahelduvad (harva mõned vastakud), lineaalsed või lineaalsüstjad, tömbid, alusel kiiljalt ahenenud, tagasipöördunud servaga, 2-6cm pikad, 3-8mm laiad, pealmiselt pinnalt peaaegu paljad või hõredalt asuvate tähtkarvadega, tumerohelised, alumiselt pinnalt rohkete karvade tõttu hõbejad, kuni 3mm pikkustel rootsudel.

Isasõied lühikestes peajates õisikutes, 2-lehelise õiekattega ja nelja õiekattest lühema tolmukaga; õiekattelehed ümardunult munajad, nõgusad, kuni 3mm pikad, välimisel küljel pruunikate soomustega.

Emasõied 2-5-kaupa lehtede kaenlas, kuni 1,75mm pikad, väga lühikestel raagudel, 2-lõhese õiekattega, õiekatte hõlmad kolmnurkjad, tömbi tipuga, putkeosast lühemad.

Emakakael sigimiku pikkune, sigimikust pikema suudmega. Vili lihakas, oranžpunane, 8-10mm pikk, ovaalne või peaaegu ümmargune.

Õitseb mais-juunis. Hea meetaim. Sobib istutada tuiskliivade kinnistamiseks ja hekiks.

Ravim

Droogiks kasutatakse vilju. Viljad kogutakse hilissügisel või raputatakse põõsaste alla laotatud riidele. Külmunult säilivad marjad pikemat aega värskena, ilma et nende kvaliteet langeks. Külmutamata viljad on pehmed ja purunevad kergesti. Pealegi asuvad nad tihedalt ja tugevasti okste küljes astelde vahel, mis korjamise raskeks teeb. Külmunud viljad ei talu korduvat ülessulamist ning uuesti külmumist. Seetõttu soovitatakse viljad koguda valmimisperioodi algul, kui nad on omandanud valmisviljadele omase oranži värvuse ega pole veel pehmeks muutunud.

Luuviljataolise vilja ühe seemnega kiviosa moodustav 16% viljast. Viljalihas on kuni 9%, seemnetes kuni 12% rasvõli. Rasvõli koosneb steariin-, palmitiin-, õli- ja linoolhappe glütseriididest. Viljaliha on rikas vitamiinidest (karotiini kuni 60mg%, C-vitamiini kuni 450mg%, B1-vitamiini kuni 0,035mg%, B2-vitamiini kuni 0,056mg%, E-vitamiini kuni 145mg%, foolhapet kuni 0,79%), suhkrust (kuni 3,56%) ja orgaanilistest hapetest (peamiselt õun- ja viinhape).

Toimed

Astelpaju viljadest saadud õli - oleum Hippophaes - on valuvaigistava toimega, kiirendab kudede granuleerumist ja epiteliseerumist. Kasutatakse röntgenteraapias naha ja limaskesta kiirituskahjustuste vältimiseks ja raviks, ka haavandtõve puhul. Välispidiselt tarvitatakse visalt paranevate haavade ja günekoloogiliste haiguste raviks.

Viljad kuuluvad kõrgeväärtuslike toiduainete hulka. Neist võib valmistada meeldiva maitse ja aroomiga ning kõrge vitamiinisisaldusega hoidiseid.

Taime levi

Allikad

Tammeorg, J., Kook, O. & Vilbaste, G. (1973). Eesti NSV Ravimtaimed. Tallinn: Valgus.

Tressum, M., Eesti Loodusmuuseum (1992). Ravimtaimed.

Eesti taimede levikuatlas 2020

[opera-ghosts]

Olive Fremstad (1871-1951) as Isolde.

From Interpreters by Carl Van Vechten:

The career of Olive Fremstad has entailed continuous struggle: a struggle in the beginning with poverty, a struggle with a refractory voice, and a struggle with her own overpowering and dominating temperament. Ambition has steered her course. After she had made a notable name for herself through her interpretations of contralto réles, she determined to sing soprano parts, and did so, largely by an effort of will. She is always dissatisfied with her characterizations; she is always studying ways and means of improving them. It is not easy for her to mould a figure; it is, on the contrary, very difficult. One would suppose that her magnetism and force would carry her through an opera without any great amount of preparation. Such is not the case. There is no other singer before the public so little at her ease in any impromptu performance. Recently, when she returned to the New York stage with an itinerant opera company to sing in an ill-rehearsed performance of Tosca, she all but lost her grip. She was not herself and she did not convince. New costumes, which hindered her movements, and a Scarpia with whom she was unfamiliar, were responsible in a measure for her failure to assume her customary authority.

If you have seen and heard Olive Fremstad in the scene of the spear in Gdtterdémmerung, you will find it difficult to believe that what I say is true, that work and not plenary inspiration is responsible for the effect. To be sure, the inspiration has its place in the final result. Once she is certain of her ground, words, music, tone-colour, gesture, and action, she inflames the whole magnificently with her magnetism. This magnetism is instinctive, a part of herself; the rest is not. She brings about the detail with diligent drudgery, and without that her performances would go for nought. The singer pays for this intense concentration. In “ Tower of Ivory ” Mrs. Atherton says that all Wagnerian singers must pay heavily. Probably all good ones must. Charles Henry Melzer has related somewhere that he first saw Mme. Fremstad on the stage at Covent Garden, where between her scenes in some Wagner music drama, lost in her réle, utterly oblivious of stage hands or fellow-artists, she paced up and down in the wings. At the moment he decided that she was a great interpretative artist, and he had never heard her sing. When she is singing a réle she will not allow herself to be interrupted; she holds no receptions between scenes.

“Come back after the opera,” she says to her friends, and frequently then she is too tired to see any one. She often drives home alone, a prey to quivering nerves which keep her eyeballs rolling in ceaseless torture — sleepless.

Nothing about the preparation of an opera is easy for Olive Fremstad; the thought, the idea, does not register immediately in her brain. - But once she has achieved complete understanding of a role and thoroughly mastered its music, the fire of her personality enables her easily to set a standard. Is there another singer who can stand on the same heights with Mme. Fremstad as Isolde, Venus, Elsa, Sieglinde, Kundry, Armide, Briinnhilde in Gétterdimmerung, or Salome? And are not these the most difficult and trying réles in the répertoire of the lyric stage today?

In one of her impatient moods — and they occur frequently —the singer once complained of this fact. ‘“ How easy it is,” she said, “ for those who make their successes as Marguerite and Mimi. . . . I should like to sing those réles. . . .” But the remark was made under a misconception of her own personality. Mme. Fremstad would find Mimi and Marguerite much more difficult to compass than Isolde and Kundry. She is by nature Northern and heroic, and her physique is suited

to the goddesses and heroines of the Norse myths (it is a significant fact that she has never attempted to sing Eva or Senta). Occasionally, as in Salome, she has been able to exploit successfully another side of her talent, but in the rendering of the grand, the noble, and the heroic, she has no equal on our stage. Yet her Tosca always lacked nobility. There was something in the music which never brought the quality out.

In such a part as Selika she seemed lost (wasted, too, it may be added), although the entrance of the proud African girl was made with some effect, and the death scene was carried through with beauty of purpose. But has any one ever characterized Selika? Her Santuzza, one of the two réles which she has sung in Paris, must be considered a failure when judged by the side of such a performance as that given by Emma Calvé— and who would judge Olive Fremstad by any but the highest standards? The Swedish singer’s Santuzza was as elemental, in its way, as that of the Frenchwoman, but its implications were too tragic, too massive in their noble beauty, for the correct interpretation of a sordid melodrama. It was as though some one had engaged the Victory of Samothrace to enact the part. Munich adored the Fremstad Carmen (was it not her characterization of the Bizet heroine which caused Heinrich Conried to engage her for America?) and Franz von Stuck painted her twice in the réle. Even in New York she was appreciated in the part. The critics awarded her fervent adulation, but she never stirred the public pulse. The principal fault of this very Northern Carmen was her lack of humour, a quality the singer herself is deficient in. For a season or two in America Mme. Fremstad appeared in the réle, singing it, indeed, in San Francisco-the night of the memorable earthquake, and then it disappeared from her répertoire. Maria Gay was the next Metropolitan Carmen, but it was Geraldine Farrar who made the opera again as popular as it had been in Emma Calvé’s day.

Mme. Fremstad is one of those rare singers on the lyric stage who is able to suggest the meaning of the dramatic situation through the colour of her voice. This tone-colour she achieves stroke by stroke, devoting many days to the study of important phrases. To go over in detail the instances in which she has developed effects through the use of tone-colour would make it necessary to review, note by note, the operas in which she has appeared. I have no such intention. It may be sufficient to recall to the reader — who, in remembering, may recapture the thrill — the effect she produces with the poignant lines beginning Amour, puissant amour at the close of the third act of Armide, the dull, spent quality of the voice emitted over the words Ich habe deinen Mund gekiisst from the final scene of Salome, and the subtle, dreamy rapture of the Liebestod in Tristan und Isolde. Has any one else achieved this effect? She once told me that Titian’s Assumption of the Virgin was her inspiration for her conception of this scene.

Luscious in quality, Mme. Fremstad’s voice is not altogether a tractable organ, but she has forced it to do her bidding. A critic long ago pointed out that another singer would not be likely to emerge with credit through the use of Mme. Fremstad’s vocal method. It is full of expediences. Oftener than most singers, too, she has been in “bad voice.” And her difficulties have been increased by her determination to become a soprano, difficulties she has surmounted brilliantly. In other periods we learn that singers did not limit their ranges by the quality of their voices. In our day singers have specialized in high or low réles. Many contraltos, however, have chafed under the restrictions which composers have compelled them to accept. Almost all of them have attempted now and again to sing soprano réles. Only in the case of Edyth Walker, however, do we find an analogy to the case of Olive Fremstad. Both of these singers have attained high artistic ideals in both ranges. Magnificent as Brangaene, Amneris, and Ortrud, the Swedish singer later presented unrivalled characterizations of Isolde, Armide, and Briinnhilde. The high tessitura of the music allotted to the Siegfried Briinnhilde is a strain for most singers. Mme. Nordica once declared that this Briinnhilde was the most difficult of the three. Without haying sung a note in the early evening, she must awake in the third act, about ten-thirty or eleven, to begin almost immediately the melismatic duet which concludes the music drama. Mme. Fremstad, by the use of many expediences, such as pronouncing Siegfried as if it were spelled Seigfried when the first syllable fell on a high note, was able to get through with this part without projecting a sense of effort, unless it was on the high C at the conclusion, a note of which she frequently allowed the tenor to remain in undisputed possession. But the fierce joy and spirited abandon she put into the acting of the réle, the passion with which she infused her singing, carried her victoriously past the dangerous places, often more victoriously than some other singer, who could produce high notes more easily, but whose etage resources were more limited.

I do not think Mme. Fremstad has trained her voice to any high degree of agility. She can sing the drinking song from Lucrezia Borgia and Delibes’s Les Filles de Cadix with irresistible effect, a good part of which, however, is produced by her personality and manner, qualities which carry her far on the concert stage, although for some esoteric reason they have never inveigled the general public into an enthusiastic surrender to her charm. I have often heard her sing Swedish songs in her native tongue (sometimes to her own accompaniment) so enchantingly, with such appeal in her manner, and such velvet tones in her voice, that those who heard her with me not only burst into applause but also into exclamations of surprise: and delight. Nevertheless, in her concerts, or in opera, although her admirers are perhaps stronger in their loyalty than those of any other singer, she has never possessed the greatest drawing power. This is one of the secrets of the stage; it cannot be solved. It would seem that the art of Mme. Fremstad was more homely, more human in song, grander and more noble in opera, than that of Mme. Tetrazzini, but the Saat as whole prefers to hear the latter, just as it has gone in larger numbers to see the acting of Miss Garden or Mme. Farrar. Why this is so I cannot pretend to explain.

Mme. Fremstad has appeared in pretty nearly all of the important, and many of the lesser, Wagner réles. She has never sung Senta, and she once told me that she had no desire to do so, nor has she been heard as Freia or Eva. But she has sung Ortrud and Elsa, Venus and Elisabeth, Adriano in Rienzi, Kundry, Isolde and Brangaene, Fricka, Erda, Waltraute, Sieglinde, one of the Rhine maidens (perhaps two), and all three Briinnhildes. In most of these characterizations she has succeeded in making a deep impression. I have never seen her Ortrud, but I have been informed that it was a truly remarkable impersonation. Her Elsa was the finest I have ever seen. To Ternina’s poetic interpretation she added her own greater grace and charm, and a lovelier quality of voice. If, on occasion, the music of the second act proved too high for her, who could sing the music of the dream with such poetic expression? — or the love music in the last act? — as beautiful an impersonation, and of the same kind, as Mary Garden’s Mélisande.

Her Venus was another story. She yearned for years to sing Elisabeth, and when she had satisfied this ambition, she could be persuaded — only with difficulty to appear as the goddess. She told me once that she would like to sing both roles in a single evening —a possible feat, as the two characters never appear together; Rita Fornia, I believe, accomplished the dual impersonation on one occasion at the behest of Colonel Savage. She had in mind a heroine with a dual nature, sacred and profane love so to speak, and Tannhauser at the mercy of this gemini-born wight. She never was permitted to try this experiment at the Metropolitan, but during her last season there she appeared as Elisabeth. Montreal, and perhaps Brooklyn, had seen this impersonation before it was vouchsafed New York. Mme. Fremstad never succeeded in being very convincing in this rdéle. I do not exactly understand why, as its possibilities seem to lie within her limitations. Nor did she sing the music well. On the other hand, her abundantly beautiful and voluptuous Venus, a splendid, towering, blonde figure, shimmering in flesh-coloured garments, was one of her astoundingly accurate characterizations. At the opposite pole to her Sieglinde it was equally a masterpiece of interpretative art, like Duse’s Camille “ positively enthralling as an exhibition of

the gymnastics of perfect suppleness and grace.” In both these instances she was inspired perhaps to realize something a little more wonderful than the composer himself had dreamed of. The depth and subtlety and refinement of intense passion were in this Venus — there was no suggestion here of what Sidney Homer once referred to as Mme. Homer’s platonic Venus!

Her Sieglinde is firmly intrenched in many of our memories, the best loved of her Wagnerian women and enchantresses. Will there rise another singing actress in our generation to make us forget it? I do not think so. Her melting womanliness in the first act, ending with her complete surrender to Siegmund, her pathetic fatigue in the second act (do you not still see the harassed, shuddering figure stumbling into view and falling voiceless to sleep at the knees of her brother-lover?) remain in the memory like pictures in the great galleries. And how easily in the last act, in her single phrase, by her passionate suggestion of the realization of motherhood, did she wrest the scene from her fellow-artists, no matter who they might be, making such an effect before she fled into the forest depths, that what followed often seemed but anticlimax.

Mme. Fremstad never sang the three Brinnhildes in sequence at the Metropolitan Opera House (of late years no soprano has done so), but she was called upon at various times to sing them all separately. Undoubtedly it was as the Briinnhilde in Gétterdimmerung that she made the most lasting impression. The scene of the oath on the spear she carried into the realms of Greek tragedy. Did Rachel touch greater heights? Was the French Jewess more electric? The whole performance displayed magnificent proportions, attaining a superb stature in the immolation scene. In scenes of this nature, scenes hovering between life and death, the eloquent grandeur of Mme. Fremstad’s style might be observed in its complete flowering. Isolde over the body of Tristan, Briinnhilde over the body of Siegfried, exhibited no mincing pathos; the mood established was one of lofty calm. Great artists realize that this is the true expression of overwhelming emotion. In this connection it seems pertinent and interesting to recall a notable passage in a letter from Ivan Turgeniev to Pauline Viardot : —You speak to me also about Romeo, the third act; you have the goodness to ask me for some remarks on Romeo. What could I tell you that you have not already known and felt in ad-vance? The more I reflect on the scene of the third act the more it seems to me that there is only one manner of interpreting it — yours. One can imagine nothing more horrible than finding oneself before the corpse of all that one loves; but the despair that seizes you then ought to be so terrible that, if it is not held and frozen by the resolution of suicide, or by another grand sentiment, art can no longer render it. Broken cries, sobs, fainting fits, these are nature, but they are not art. The spectator himself will not be moved by that poignant and profound emotion which you stir so easily. Whereas by the manner in which you wish to do Romeo (as I understand what you have written me) you will produce on your auditor an ineffaceable effect. I remember the fine and just observation that you once made on the agitated and restrained little gestures that Rachel made, at the same time maintaining an attitude of calm nobility; with her, perhaps, that was only technique; but in general it is the calm arising from a strong conviction or from a profound emotion, that is to say the calm which envelopes the desperate transports of passion from all sides, which communicates to them that purity of line, that ideal and real beauty, the true, the only beauty of art. And, what proves the truth of this remark, is that life itself — on rare occasions, it is true, at those times when it disengages itself from all that is accidental or commonplace — raises itself to the same kind of beauty. The greatest griefs, as you have said in your letter, are the calmest; and, one could add, the calmest are the most beautiful. But it is necessary to know how to unite the two extremes, unless one would appear cold. It is easier not to attain perfection, easier to rest in the middle of one’s journey, the more so because the greater number of spectators demand nothing else, or rather are not accustomed to anything else, but you are what you are only because of this noble ambition to do your best. . . .”

In the complex role of Kundry Mme. Fremstad has had no rival. The wild witch of the first act, the enchantress of the second, the repentant Magdalene of the third, all were imaginatively impersonated by this wonderful woman. Certain actors drop their characterizations as soon as the dialogue passes on to another; such as these fail in Parsifal, for Kundry, on the stage for the entire third act, has only one word to sing; in the first act she has but few more. Colossally alluring in the second act, in which she symbolized the essence of the “ eternal feminine,” Mme. Fremstad projected the first and third act Kundry into the minds and hearts of her audience.

Well-trained in Bayreuth tradition, this singer was no believer in it; she saw no reason for clinging to outworn ideals simply because they prevailed at the Master’s own theatre. However, she did not see how an individual could break with tradition in these works without destroying their effect. The break must come from the stage director.

“If Wagner were alive today,” she once said to me, “I don’t believe that he would sanction a lot of the silly ‘business’ that is insisted upon everywhere because it is the law at Bayreuth. Wagner was constantly changing everything. When he produced his music dramas they were so entirely new in conception and in staging that they demanded experimentation in many directions. Doubtless certain traditions were founded on the interpretations of certain singers — who probably could not have followed other lines of action, which Wagner might have preferred, so successfully.

“The two scenes which I have particularly in mind are those of the first act of Tannhduser and the second act of Parsifal. Both of these scenes, it seems to me, should be arranged with the most

undreamed of beauty in colour and effect. Venus should not pose for a long time in a stiff attitude on an uncomfortable couch. I don’t object to the couch, but.it should be made more alluring.

“The same objection holds in the second act of Parsifal, where Kundry is required to fascinate Parsifal, although she is not given an opportunity of moving from one position for nearly twenty minutes. When Klingsor calls Kundry from below in the first scene of that act, she comes against her will, and I think she should arise gasping and shuddering. I try to give that effect in my voice when I sing the music, but, following Bayreuth, I am standing, motionless, with a veil over my head, so that my face cannot be seen for some time before I sing.

“One singer can do nothing against the mass of tradition. If I changed and the others did not, the effect would be inartistic. But if some stage manager would have the daring to break away, to strive for something better in these matters, how I would love to work with that man! ”

Departing from the Wagnerian répertoire, Mme. Fremstad has made notable successes in two roles, Salome and Armide. That she should be able to do justice to the latter is more astonishing than that she should emerge triumphant from the Wilde-Strauss collaboration. <Armide, almost the oldest opera to hold the stage today, is still the French classic model, and it demands in performance adherence to the French grand style, a style implying devotion to the highest artistic ideals. Mme. Fremstad’s artistic ideals are perhaps on a higher plane than those of the Paris Conservatoire or the Comédie Frangaise, but it does not follow that she would succeed in moulding them to fit a school of opera with which, to this point, she had been totally unfamiliar. So far as I know, the only other opera Mme. Fremstad had ever sung in French was Carmen, an experience which could not be considered as the training for a suitable delineation of the heroine of Gluck’s beautiful lyric drama. Still Mme. Fremstad compassed the breach. How, I cannot pretend to say. No less an authority than Victor Maurel pronounced it a triumph of the French classic style.

The moods of Quinault’s heroine, of course, suit this singing actress, and she brought to them all her most effectual enchantments, including a series of truly seducing costumes. The imperious unrest of the first act, the triumph of love over hate in the second, the invocation to La Haine in the third, and the final scene of despair in the fifth, all interpretens were depicted with poignant and moving power; and always with fidelity to the style of the piece. She set her own pace in the finale of the first act. The wounded warrior returns to tell how a single combatant has delivered all his prisoners. Armide’s half-spoken guess, O ciel! c’est Renaud! which she would like to have denied, was uttered in a tone which definitely stimulated the spectator to prepare for the conflict which followed, the conflict in Armide’s own breast, between her love for Renaud as a man, and her hatred of him as an enemy. I do not remember to have seen anything on the stage more profound in its implied psychology than her acting of the scene beginning Enfin il est en ma puissance, in which she stays her hand with dagger uplifted to kill the enemyhero, and finally completely conquered by the darts of Love, transports him with her through the air to her own fair gardens.

The singer told me that she went to work on this opera with fear in her heart. “I don’t know how I dared do it. I suppose it is because I had the simplicity to believe, with the Germans, that Kundry is the top of everything, and I had sung Kundry. As a matter of fact my leaning toward the classic school dates very far back. My father was a strange man, of evangelical tendencies. He wrote a hymn-book, which is still in use in Scandinavia, and he had a beautiful natural voice. People often came for miles— simple country people, understand—to hear him sing. My father knew the classic composers and he taught me their songs.

** This training came back to me when I took up the study of Armide. It was in May that Mr. Gatti-Casazza asked me if I would sing the work, which, till then, I had never heard. I took the book with me to the mountains and studied — not a note of the music at first, for music is very easy for me anyway; I can always learn that in a short time — but the text. For six weeks I read and re-read the text, always the difficult part for me in learning a new opera, without looking at the music. I found the text of Armide particularly difficult because it was in old French, and because it was in verse.

“Tf worked over it for six weeks, as I tell you, until I had mastered its beauties as well as I could, and then I opened the music score. Here I encountered a dreadful obstacle. Accustomed to Wagner’s harmonies, I was puzzled by the French style. I did not see how the music could be sung to the text with dramatic effect. I attended several performances of the work at the Paris Opéra,

but the interpretation there did not assist me in solving the problem. I tried every phrase in fifty different ways in an attempt to arrive at my end, and suddenly, and unexpectedly, I found myself in complete understanding; the exquisite refinement and nobility of the music, the repression, the classic line, all suggested to me the superb, eternal beauty of a Greek temple. Surely this is music that will outlive Wagner!

“Once I understood, it was easy to put my conception on the stage. There is no such thing as genius in singing; at least one cannot depend on genius alone to carry one through an opera. I must know exactly how I am going to sing each phrase before I go upon the stage. Nothing must be left to chance. In studying Armide I had sketches sent to me of every scene, and with these I worked until I knew every movement I should make, where I should stand, and when I should walk. Look at my score—at all these minute diagrams and directions. .. .”

Armide was not a popular success in New York, and after one or two performances in its second season at the Metropolitan Opera House it was withdrawn. With the reasons for the failure of this opera to interest the general public Mme. Fremstad, it may well be imagined, had nothing to do. Her part in it, on the contrary, contributed to what success the work had. New York operagoers have never manifested any particular regard for classic opera in any tongue; Fidelio or Don Giovanni have never been popular here. Then, although Caruso sang the music of Renaud with a style and beauty of phrasing unusual even for him, his appearance in the part was unfortunate. It was impossible to visualize the chevalier of the romantic story. The second tenor role, which is very important, was intrusted to an incompetent singer, and the charming réle of the Naiad was very inadequately rendered; but the principal fault of the interpretation was due to a misconception regarding the relative importance of the ballet. There are dances in every act of Armide; there is no lovelier music of its kind extant than that which Gluck has devoted to his dancers in this opera. Appreciating this fact, Mr. Toscanini refused to part with a note of it, and his delivery of the delightful tunes would have made up a pleasant half-hour in a concert-room. Unfortunately the management did not supplement his efforts by providing a suitable group ~ of dancers. This failure was all but incomprehensible considering the fact that Anna Pavlowa was a member of the Metropolitan company that sea-

son. Had she appeared in Armide, its fate in New York, where it was performed for the first time one hundred and thirty-three years after its original production in Paris, might have been far different. It may have been impossible for Mr. Gatti-Casazza to obtain the co-operation of the dancer. Times change. In 1833 Taglioni, then at the height of her powers, danced in London the comparatively insignificant parts of the Swiss peasant in Guillawme Tell and the ghostly abbess in Robert le Diable. This was the season in which she introduced La Sylphide to English theatre-goers.

The history of Richard Strauss’s Salome in New York has. been told so often that it seems quite unnecessary to repeat it here. ‘There must be few indeed of those who will read these lines who do not know how the music drama received only one public performance at the Metropolitan Opera House before it was withdrawn at the request of certain directors. At that one performance Olive Fremstad sang the réle of Salome. She was also heard at the private dress rehearsal — before an auditorium completely filled with invited guests — and she has sung the part three times in Paris. The singer threw herself into its preparation with her usual energy, and developed

an extraordinary characterization. There was but one flaw, the substitution of a professional dancer for the Dance of the Seven Veils. At this time it had occurred to nobody that the singer who impersonated Salome could dance. How could any one sing the music of the tremendous finale after getting thoroughly out of breath in the terpsichorean exhibition before Herod? The expedient of a substitute was resorted to at the original performance in Dresden, and Olive Fremstad did not disturb this tradition. She allowed Bianca Froehlich to take off the seven veils, a feat which was accomplished much more delicately at the performance than it had been at the dress rehearsal. In Paris a farce resulted from the custom when Mme. Trouhanova not only insisted on wearing a different costume from the Salome whose image she was supposed to be, but also took curtain calls. I think it was Gemma Belincioni, the Italian, who first conceived the idea of Salome dancing her own dance. She was followed by Mary Garden, who discovered what every one should have noticed in the beginning, that the composer has given the singer a long rest after the pantomimic episode.

Aside from this disturbance to the symmetry of the performance, Olive Fremstad was magnificent. Her entrance was that of a splendid leopard, standing poised on velvet paws on the terrace, and then creeping slowly down the staircase. Her scene with Jochanaan was in truth like the storming of a fortress, and the scene with the Tetrarch was clearly realized. But it was in the closing scene of the drama that Mme. Fremstad, like the poet and the composer, achieved her most effective results. I cannot yet recall her as she crept from side to side of the well in which Jochanaan was confined, waiting for the slave to ascend with the severed head, without that shudder of fascination caused by the glimmering eyes of a monster serpent, or the sleek terribleness of a Bengal tiger. And at the end she suggested, as perhaps it has never before been suggested on the stage, the dregs of love, the refuse of gorged passion. Singers who “create” parts in great lyric dramas have a great advantage over those who succeed them. Mary Shaw once pointed out to me the probability that Janet Achurch and Elizabeth Robins only won enthusiastic commendation from Bernard Shaw because they were appearing in the Ibsen plays which he was seeing for the first time. He attributed a good part of his pleasure to the interpretations of these ladies. However, he was never satisfied with their per-formances in plays with which he was more familiar and he never again found anyone entirely to suit him in the Ibsen dramas. Albert Niemann was one of the first tenors to sing Wagner roles and there are those alive who will tell you that he was one of the great artists, but it is perhaps because they heard him first in lyric dramas of such vitality that they confused singer and rdle. Beatty-Kingston, who heard him in 1866, said (in “ Music and Manners”) that he had torn his voice “to tatters by persistent shoutings at the top of its upper register, and undermined it by excessive worship at the shrines of Bacchus and the Paphian goddess. . . . His ‘ production’ was characterized by a huskiness and scratchiness infinitely distressing to listen to. . . .” No allowances of this sort need be made for the deep impression made by Olive Fremstad. At the Metropolitan Opera House she followed a line of wellbeloved and regal interpreters of the Wagner réles. Both Lilli Lehmann and Milka Ternina had honoured this stage and Lillian Nordica preceded Mme. Fremstad as Kundry there. In her career at the Metropolitan, indeed, Mme. Fremstad sang only three operas at their first performances there, Salome, Les Contes d’Hoffmann, and Armide. In her other roles she was forced to

stand comparison with a number of great artists. That she won admiration in them under the circumstances is the more fine an achievement.

I like to think, sometimes, that Olive Fremstad is the reincarnation of Guiditta Pasta, that celebrated Italian singer of the early nineteenth century, who paced triumphantly through the humbler tragedies of Norma and Semiramide. She too worked hard to gain her ends, and she gained them for a time magnificently. Henry Fothergill Chorley celebrates her art with an enthusiasm that is rare in his pages, and I like to think that he would write similar lines of eulogy about Olive Fremstad could he be called from the grave to do so. There is something of the mystic in all great singers, something incomprehensible, inexplicable, but in the truly great, the Mme. Pastas and the Mme. Fremstads, this quality outstrips all others. It is predominant. And just in proportion as this mysticism triumphs, so too their art becomes triumphant, and flames on the ramparts, a living witness before mankind to the power of the unseen.

August 17, 1916.

[lesser-known-composers]

Anders Wesstrom (c.1720-1781) - Armide Overture: II. Andante cantabile

Orchestra: Nordic Chamber Orchestra

Conductor: Christian Lindberg

[sevarix-blogs]

Hi! You know the calculating the size of Fodlan thing you did? Would you mind working out two things for me please? Because I don't quite understand what you did to do it myself ^^;;;; First is how wide is the Airmid at the little lake bit beneath the Myrddin label? And second is how long does it take to get to Gronder via the route they take on the Jeralt-narrated map in Houses, so across to the bridge then down? Pre skip for the mock battle, if that makes a difference. And also thank you for doing all the maths!!!!

certainly!

for the armid thing:

this line is about 77km!

for the second thing, i based it off of these two screenshots:

first to myrddin and then to gronder

and ended up with this:

i added up the pixels and did the math and got 1342km!

this would be about 53 days on foot. (ofc in the game it takes them a month but 1. they need to do what's easiest for the plot (which is valid btw) and 2. they have flying mounts that i didn't account for)

keep in mind this also does not account for mountainous terrain. i am going to make another post soon with calculations for that!

hope this helps!!

edit: omg i just realized you meant pre-skip not post-skip gronder. i apologize for the confusion! i think it should be a very similar route though?

[thatnerdyqueer]

This pride month I've been listening to queer-composed classical music to remind me that we've been here all along. Here's what I listened to each day

Tchaikovsky 5th symphony, Barber violin concerto, Symphonic Dances From West Side Story, Handel Passacaglia, Chopin Nocturnes, (honourable mentions - britten and poulenc)

Ethel Smyth (unfortunately she was the only lesbian composer I could find)

Lully Armide Overture, Camille Saint saens Danse Macabre, Schubert Symphony no. 3

Lmk your favourite queer composed pieces and I'll give them a listen :)

[immaculate-imperfection]

"Passacaille" from Jean-Baptiste Lully's opera Armide (1686)

Soloist: my love Cyril Auvity

Les plaisirs ont choisi pour asile ce séjour agréable et tranquille, que ces lieux sont charmants pour les heureux amants!

Pleasure has found asylum in This agreeable and tranquil sanctuary. Oh, this place is charming For fortunate lovers!

C'est l'amour qui retient dans ses chaînes mille oiseaux qu'en nos bois nuit et jour on entend. Si l'amour ne causait que des peines, les oiseaux amoureux ne chanteraient pas tant.

Love keeps in its chains A thousand birds that we hear night and day in these woods. If love caused only pain, The birds would not sing so.

Jeunes cœurs, tout vous est favorable, profitez d'un bonheur peu durable. Dans l'hiver de nos ans l'Amour ne règne plus, les beaux jours que l'on perd sont pour jamais perdus.

Young hearts, everything is favorable for you Enjoy this fleeting happiness. In the winter of our lives, Love no longer reigns. The beautiful days that we waste are lost forever.

[liricamundi]

ENRICO CARUSO

B 10: Copyright: Whitz; Meister Caruso im Armide