Evening star., 1933-08-06

he man VINO SAID tlat he QlQn
care who wrote his countrys laws
provided he might write its ballads
said mouthful, SO far as immortal
ity' goes. How almost magical is the
perennial freshness of those songs
which become part of peoples racial
inheritance! Home, Sweet Home"
"Suwanee River" Believe Me if All
Those Endearing Young Charms" The
Last Rose of Summer"-such things
move the heart in all climates and en-
vironmentS, generations after they have
been written, as freshly as If they had
been composed today, and long after
the manners and customs and ideas OF
those who lived when they were new
have faded into ancient history.
The latest reminder of this truth is
the revival Of Balfe's The Bohemian
Girl" and the emergence from Senti
mental memory OF the well-belOVed Il
Dreamt Dwelt in Marble Halls and
Then You'll Remember Me" Balfe
wrote goodness knows how many op-
eras and everybody knows his name,
and yet out of all his lifetime Of COM
position. these two songs stand out in
the popular mind far above all else.
The explanation, no doubt. is that hu-
man nature remains much the same
and melody which appeals straight
TO the simpler and more permanent
emotions stirs the hearts of 1888 lust
as il did those Of 1888 or Of CEN
tury earlier.
And yet there seems to be a curious
and fascinating gamble in it all. Why
should Balfe, who was writing senti-
mental songs throughout an active life
time, happen to hit, in the two bal
lads mentioned, on the precise pattern
|, ipI, nlNi Ia
Encyclopedia Britannica biographer.
after setting down the main facts of
Balfe's life and a score or more of his
operas, must end his account with the
remark that even the briefeSt refer
ence to Balfe would be incomplete
without mention of Il Dreamt l Dwelt
in Marble Halls and Then Youll
Remember Me-" 1t almost seems as
if there were a sort of absolute or
mystical pattern and that when the
fairies permit the composer, in all his
day-to-day fumblings and reachings,
TO strike through and touch its fyinges,
his song survives.
WHAT else Of this now rather funny
w old light opera remains to melt
the brittle hearts Of 1888? Well, there's
the Counts solo, The Heart Bowed
Down." sung as he looks at the por-
trait Of his long-lost child. which
many will remember, once they hear
the tune. although they may not have
known whence it came, and possibly
the gypsy queens lament, Bliss For
ever Past" and one or two other
numbers. In so far as plot and gen.
eral manner are concerned The Bo-
hemian Girl is, OF course. for present.
day spectators ali adventure into the
antique and Obsolescent. Just as it
stands, 1t amounts almost to a parody
of the absurdities of fashioned
Italian opera. But the two songs
which more than anything else are
associated with Balfe'S fame are al
most enough to carry the whole eve
ning-quite enough. one would say. for
those who may never have heard them
in their original context, and Ruth
Altman as Airline and the reliable Rov
Cropper as Thaddeus. the prescribed
Pole. do them agreeable justice.
For the rest. there is cast similar
to that Of others of Mr.. Aborns re-
vivals, and a few interpretations which
do good service Thus when the Count
exclaims heartily. Let the fete begin'
what more natural than to slip in some
peasant dances done by an Albertina
Rasch ballet? Then, in the scene in
the square in Pressburg. there appears
a troupe Of tumbling Arabs: they reeled
off handsprings and other acrobatics
with such relish and abandon that on
the opening night they stopped the
show for a moment.
Allan Waterous was the melancholy
Count Arnheim-looking after he grew
his short gray beard and had lost his
darling daughter for IA long years to
the gypsies, very like the late Duke
Alexander-and Marie Bard was the
equally melancholy queen of the gyp-
sizes. Against such imperfections as
may be discovered should be put the
fact that seats are sold at 81 top.
The Bohemian Girl was first pro-
duced at Drury Lane Theater in Lon
don in 1843 and its first production in
this country was in 1874. 1t was last
heard in New York at the Century
Opera House in 1913.