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(Number
2 in a series. Links to part 1 part 3
part 4
part 5 part 6 part 7
part 8 part
9)
Everything
is Related to Naples (2)
I didn't set out to
do this; it just dropped
into my lap. I was not searching for evidence that St. Patrick drove
the snakes out of Naples or anything like that. (They are still all
over the place.) I was merely idling my search engine on St. Patrick's
Day and came across a list of Irish flautist James Galway's Five
Favorites for the Day. My eye ran down the list—with me struggling to
keep up—and saw the song "I
dreamt that I dwelt in Marble Halls." Hah, I thought, I know that song!—or at least used
to. I had stored it many years ago way back on a dusty memory shelf
reserved
for sentimental 19th-century songs on the order of Believe Me, if all those endearing young
charms and Drink to me only
with thine eyes. But I had really known nothing about the song,
itself. I clicked on the link and heard a lovely rendtion by Irish
singer, Enya.
(So far, nothing, but then the chain of
psuedo-connectivity for which I hope to become infamous started to link
together like all those bits and pieces of liquid metal that make up
bad-guy cyborg, Robert Patrick, in Terminator
2.)
"I dreamt that I dwelt in Marble Halls" is
from
an opera named The Bohemian Girl
composed in 1844
by Irish composer Michael Balfe
(1808-1870). He was a prolific
composer, writing the music for over 20 operas with libretti in
English, French and Italian. The
Bohemian Girl seems to be the one work he is
remembered for; it has been translated into other languages and is
loosely
based on a tale by Cervantes, La Gitanilla. It is
remembered
largely for that one song, which
occurs
in act II. (The Bohemian
Girl is also the source of the great 1936 Laurel & Hardy
film of that name.) With a little help from memory and even more
from the internet, the first stanza goes:
I dreamt that I dwelt
in marble halls,
With vassals and serfs at my
side,
And of all who assembled within
those walls,
That I was the hope and the
pride.
I had riches too great to
count,
Could boast of a high ancestral
name;
But I also dreamt, which
pleased me most,
That you lov'd me still the
same...
(English theatrical manager Alfred Bunn is credited with the libretto
for the opera, so I assume that he wrote the text of the song/aria.)
Balfe (I am not sure of the pronunciation of his name; I am guessing
that it rhymes with "Ralph") travelled widely and worked in Italy and
France. In the late 1820s, Balfe went to Paris, where he made the
acquaintance of Rossini, who by that
time in his life had moved to
France. Now—link, link, link—Balfe also had a pleasant
baritone voice and a modest career on the operatic stage. Somehow—maybe he and Rossini went out
drinking together—Balfe
wound up singing the role of Figaro in Rossini's The Barber of
Seville, presented at
the Italian Opera in Paris in 1827. The
Barber of Seville, of course, was composed
by Rossini in 1816 in Naples. I rest my case!
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