scene with the death of Margaret.  After this we have two scenes from the second part of Goethe’s ‘Faust,’ the classical Sabbath, in which the union of Helen and Faust symbolises the embrace of the Greek and Germanic ideals, and the redemption of Faust with the discomfiture of Mephistopheles, which ends the work.  Although ‘Mefistofele’ is unsatisfactory as a whole, the extraordinary beauty of several single scenes ought to secure for it such immortality as the stage has to offer.  Boito is most happily inspired by Margaret, and the two scenes in which she appears are masterpieces of beauty and pathos.  In the garden scene he has caught the ineffable simplicity of her character with astonishing success.  The contrast between her girlish innocence and the voluptuous sentiment of Gounod’s heroine cannot fail to strike the most careless listener.  The climax of this scene, the delightfully tender and playful quartet, which culminates in a burst of hysterical laughter, is a stroke of genius.  In the prison scene Boito rises to still greater heights.  The poignant pathos of the poor maniac’s broken utterances, the languorous beauty of the duet, and the frenzied terror and agony of the finale, are beyond praise.

Amilcare Ponchielli (1834-1886) owed much to both Verdi and Boito, and his best work, ‘La Gioconda,’ which was produced in 1876, bears unmistakable traces of the influence of ‘Mefistofele’ and ‘Aida.’  The libretto of ‘La Gioconda’ is founded upon a gloomy play by Victor Hugo, ‘Angelo, Tyran de Padoue.’  La Gioconda, a Venetian street singer, buys the safety of her lover Enzo from the spy Barnaba with her own hand, only to find that the former uses his new-found liberty to prosecute an intrigue with another woman.  She generously contrives to save the lives of Enzo and his mistress, which are threatened by the vengeance of the latter’s husband, and commits suicide in order to escape falling into the hands of Barnaba.  Ponchielli’s opera overflows with melody of a rather commonplace description.  He has, besides, a certain dramatic gift, and the concerted music in ‘La Gioconda’ is powerful and effective.  The ballet music is unusually good, and shows many favourable examples of Ponchielli’s fondness for fanciful melodic designs, a mannerism which has been freely imitated by his pupils and followers.  Another meritorious composer of the same school was Alfredo Catalani (1854-93), whose ‘Lorelei’ (1890) and ‘La Wally’ (1892) still hold the stage.

The most important of the younger men is Giacomo Puccini, a composer who during the last decade has come to the front in a decisive manner.  His first opera, ‘Le Villi,’ was produced in 1884.  The subject is a strange one to have taken the fancy of a southern composer.  It is founded upon one of those weird traditions which seem essentially the property of Northern Europe.  Villi, or in English, Wilis, are the spirits of affianced damsels, whose lovers have proved untrue.  They rise from the