Google
This is a digital copy of a book lhal w;ls preserved for general ions on library shelves before il was carefully scanned by Google as pari of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.
Il has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one thai was never subject
to copy right or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often dillicull lo discover.
Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher lo a library and linally lo you.
Usage guidelines
Google is proud lo partner with libraries lo digili/e public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order lo keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial panics, including placing Icchnical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:
+ Make n on -commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request thai you use these files for
personal, non -commercial purposes.
+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort lo Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each lile is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use. remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is slill in copyright varies from country lo country, and we can'l offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.
About Google Book Search
Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through I lie lull lexl of 1 1 us book on I lie web
al |_-.:. :.-.-:: / / books . qooqle . com/|
/
I
I
PAREPA-ROSA
GRAND
English Opeea.
THE WATER-CARRIER,
(LES DEUX JOURNEES.)
LYRIC DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.
COMPOSED BT
CHERUBINI.
TRANSLATED BT
ARTHUR BAILDON.
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the Year 1871,
BY CARL ROSA,
In the Office of the -Librarian of Congress at Washington.
Wit C. Bryant & Co.,
EVENING POST STEAM PBU.8SES. x
1871,
Qif* itf
Ifr.B. EL Bradford
/>?tO o m i<i.arn. 3
w^
Characters,
•
Count Armanp .,
Constance (his Countess) ...,..,
Micheli (a Savoyard, settled in Paris as a water-carrier). . .
Daniel (his father, old and infirm).
Antonio (son of Micheli, farmer in the Tillage of Gonesse).
Marcelina (daughter of Micheli)
Semos (rich farmer of gonesse)
Angelina (his only child, betrothed to Antonio)
Commandant
V ofltalii
Italian troops in the pay of Mazarin. . . . „
Lieutenant ) *
Soldiers, Peasants, Ac.
The first and second acts take place in Paris ; the third in the Tillage of Gonesse.
Time, A. D. 1647.
LES DEUX JOURNEES-
ACT I.
SCENE L — The interior of Michel? s dwelling. On the left is
an alcove in which is a bed, closed in by old green
curtains, and opposite is the door of entrance. At
the back on a chain are some male clothes, and be-
side it is a crutch. There is also a door at the back
hading to an inner room.
Night. — Daniel is seated in an old arm chair, beside which
is a cruch-handled stick. Antonio and Marcelina
are seated by a table, on which a lamp is burning.
Marcelina is making boquets of artificial flowers,
that are lying in a basket.
Dan. Well children, have you done those flowers ?
Mar. We are getting on, Grandfather. Now, brother, as to-mor«
row you are going to take me to Gonesse, I hope we shall start at
daybreak.
Ant. Oh, as early as ever you please. You know it is two days
since I left my Angelina, and if I had not come for you, I should
not have remained so long in Paris.
Mar. Well it would have been fine not -to have had me at your
wedding. Don't you know, sir, I have to present this wreath to the
bride ? How we shall enjoy ourselves to be sure ! I hope there
will be lots of dancing.
Ant. Aye, that there will, and singing.
Dan. Singing? — I hope you have not forgotten the song of the
Savoyard ?
Ant. Nay, Grandfather, I love it too much ever to forget it.
Mar. You know how Grandfather dotes upon it, so sing it to
him now.
Ant. That will I with all my heart.
rovpU-V 4 ' . SONG OF THE SAVOYARD.
* > $'
Once a poor little Savoyard,
With cold and want was nearly dying ;
When his infant prayer was heard,
By a kind stranger bis state spying.
Life came back to the child again,
Through the kind timely aid then given.
Blest be that stranger now by Heaven,
A good deed is ne'er done in vain.
If that good heart should sorrow know,
Or be exposed to sudden danger ;
Then the Savoyard would show
His gratitude to that kind stranger,
Who to safety restored again,
. While to his heart sweet peace is given,
Then he will learn that blessed by Heaven,
A good deed is ne'er done in vain.
Dan. Good boy ! good boy ! you sing the song as if you felt it
Ant. Andl do feel it Grandfather, for I was the poor child
mentioned. It happened at Berne, ten years ago, I was then
twelve years of age, and had wandered many weary miles that day
Vithout earning a sou. Cold and hungry, I was weeping 'neath a
hedge, when suddenly a carriage stopped from which a young
foreigner descended. Tenderly he lifted me in his arm& and took
me where all my wants were supplied. Heaven bless him for it J
On his departure, he gave me live pieces of silver, one of which I
have kept (draws it, attached to a ribbon, from his breast)* See, here
it is — it shall never leave me.
Mar. Did you ever know who the stranger was ?
Ant. Never, but from his dress and speech he must have been a
Frenchman.
[Daniel who had come forward during An-
tonio's song, leaning on his crutch-stick —
Marcelina now helps back to his chair.]
Mar. Father is late to-day in coming back from his rounds.
He promised to come home early and go with me for my passport,
without which I cannot leave the town to-morrow.
/
Ant. {Seated on the corner of tlie table,) You cannot come in
without one either, and it must have your full description, without
anything being left out, *
Mar. What is that for ?
[Settling the flowers in the basket.
Dan. To stop those members of the Parliament who are flying
from the persecution of Cardinal Mazarin.
Ant. Oh, the injury that than has done to France !
Dan. Lately he issued an edict that would have crushed the
poor, but the Parliament, fortunately, would not listen to it. Well,
what does his Eminence do ? He arrests the principal members,
and has even put a price on the head of the boldest and most cour-
ageous amongst them.
Mar. It must ha,ve been, that, brother, we heard in town this
morning ?
Ant. Yes ; crowds were cursing the Cardinal that wished to kill
the people's champion, and not only him, but his young wife, as
beautiful as she is good — the guardian angel of the poor. If there
be not a riot this day I shall be very much surprised.
Mar. I think I hear my father.
[She runs to the door.
Ant. Yes ; here he comes.
[Enter Mich. — He wears a long, round hat,
and across his shoulders a broad leather
belt, at the bottom of which is an iron
hook. As he comes on he puts down two
buckets he carries, and takes off the belt.
Mar. At last, dear father !
[Mich, comes forward wiping his forehead.
Mich. TJgh!
Ant. Father, you are tired.
Mich. No, my dear boy, not I ; quite the contrary. You never
hear me complain. {To Dan. who, has got up, leaning on his stick.)
Ha, grandfather! good evening. {To Mar.) Is supper ready ?
Mar. Yes, father dear, it is ready; but I hoped that before sup-
per you would come with me to the Commissaire to get my pass-
port.
Mich. Is not to-morrow morning soon enough ?
Ant. You see that to avoid the heat of the day we wished to
start early. *
Mich. That yon might the earlier be with your betrothed. Ha!
ha ! Well, it is only natural ; but now I cannot go, because — be-
cause {emphatically) I expect some one here.
Mar. At this time of night ?
Mich. (Laughing and pinching her chin.) Ha, ha! it would not
be too late for you ?
Dan. ( Coming forward leaning on his stick.) The office of the
Commissaire is not far off; I will go in your place, Micheli, and
present my grand-daughter.
Mich. It will fatigue you too much.
Dan. Nay, the exercise will do me good.
Mar. Won't you take your crutch, grandfather ?
[She points to the one at the back.
Dan. I prefer, dear, your arm for my support. (To Ant.) Are
you coming with us ?
Ant. I must get a vis6 to the passport given to me at Gonesse,
or they would stop me as I left the town.
[Exeunt the three.
Mich. (Alone.) They are coming: they had a narrow escape.
How he pressed my hand while his wife expressed their gratitude.
To. be sure, I have got myself into a fine scrape through them and
they are not safe yet, nor shj.ll I be till I have got them out of
Paris. How is that to be done when every outlet is strictly
guarded by Italian troops, devoted to that cursed Cardinal, who let
no one pass without close examination? (Reflects.) The risk is
great, but in the sacred cause of suffering humanity I will dare it.
COUPLET.
Give me thy guidance, bounteous Heaven ;
Grant the success from thee I crave ;
0, let this joy to me be given,
Two tender, loving hearts to save !
Amidst our joys, alas so fleeting !
There is not one the soul can charm
Like fond memory repeating :
"The innocent I saved from harm."
How to act — so fast perils gather —
For my children I ought to live ;
For their sake and for my father.
Whose age needs all the care I give.
But pity calls, the hours are fleeting,
And as these dangers I shall brave,
Still I'll hear Heaven's voice repeating :
" Aid thy brother — the innocent save."
My mind is made up, and the only thing now is to make the
necessary preparations. I have the whole night to do it and my
son to help me; that will suffice with the conscious strength* that
always springs from a virtuous action. (Knock.) Here they are,
no doubt ; biit I won't let them know my plan yet, or they would
never let me run the risk ; but I'll do it That I will, on the faith
of a water-carrier.
[He opens the door and Armand and Con-
stance enter. Armand is disguised as an
' officer, with two pistols in his belt ; Con-
stance is covered with a large dark silk
mantle, hat and feather.
TRIO.
Arm. Our brave preserver here. [Pressing his hand.
Con. Our lives to. you are owingi [Same business.
Both. Ever while through this life going,
In our hearts' esteem you shall share.
Mich, 'Twas but my duty I was doing,
To do that ever is my care.
Arm. I to you the life owe of Constance.
Con. And I that of my husband dear.
Mi.ch. I think I may say, without fear,
I showed some cunning in this instance.
Both. By fierce soldiers, cruel and rude,
Our weary slow steps were pursued.
Mich. From their eyes then I hid the lady,
With fright was she near dead already,
Then I clap myp hat on your head
And make you guide my cart instead;
The furious soldiers then appearing,'
/ For a water-carrier you take.
They search all round, in vain rage swearing.
Ha! ha ! a better joke I ne'er did make !
Both. How his goodness is appearing,
With what courage and what daring!
8
*
Mich. Well, yon see it ia only my nature,
I would risk all to save a fellow creature.
Con. What induced you to help us ?
Mich. You were both unfortunate, that was quite enough for
me.
Arm. You shall know who I am, and then you will see on what
a precipice you are standing. You see in me the outlawed presi-
dent — in one word, I am Count Armand.
Mich. ( With force.) You that noble champion of a people's
rights ?
Arm. 'Twas I who, with Bronsel and Hovion, dared accuse
Mazarin in the presence of the Queen, and to threaten him with
the just punishment of the law, if he still continued to tyrannize
over France. That this should excite his vengeance, full well I
knew, but when to one is entrusted the sacred charge of the peo-
ple's happiness, no fear of death should make him shrink from his
duty. Now, you know the danger that you run, for on my head
he has placed a reward of 6,000 ducats.
Mich. I know it, but fear it not. Who fears for his life should
be careful to employ it well, and how can that be better done than
by succoring the distressed? We must think now of getting you
out of Paris, for should a search be made and you found here —
Arm. You would be lost, brave man, and I in dying, would feel
another pang.
Mich. I should take the Lap with you, and we would find our-
selves together in the other world, that is all ; but we need not go
there till we are forced, need we? To prevent that, to-morrow I
must get you out of Paris.
Con. By what means ?
Mich. That's a little secret, my pretty lady. My son, who goes
to-morrow to Gonesse, will guide your husband there by cross
roads, and once there, he can remained concealed in perfeet safety.
Does my plan suit you ?
Arm. Nothing could be better.
Con. Dear Micheli, how can we show our gratitude?
Mtch. You, Madame, can stay with me till it will be safe to go
to him.
[Mich, locks the door, and carries his buckets
into the inner room.
9 i^ +
DTTET.
Con. Must we be parted, husband dear ?
Arm. See the dangers that now attend me,
And for us wait.
,Con". But them I do not fear.
Arm. The power of our foe you know, and ought to dread,
How can you 'scape the blow ere it falls on your head ?
Con". Our mutual l<5ve will still defend me.
Arm, Be warned.
Con". I have no fear but for thee.
Arm. Your life you must not risk,
Keep it, dearest, for me.
Con. . Though I should be doomed to perish,
I never will thee, love, forsake ;
Thou art mine own, the one I cherish,
Prom my arms no one thee shall take.
For thine is all my heart,
I ne'er from thee will part ;
The vengeance o'er me
I spurn, before thee
Its fury shows in vain ;
But in your absence
The heart of Constance
Must find ever grief and pain.
Arm. You, the joy of my life here,
Let me depart while you still safe remain.
Re-enter Michbli.
Mich. She is right, by the faith of a water-carrier! I would
do the same were I in her place.
Arm. But you know she cannot leave Paris without exposing
herself to almost certain death.
Mich. Leave me to manage that.
Arm. How is it to be done ?
Mich. Ha ! ha ! that is another little secret.
Con. Dear Micheli, you are certainly our guardian angel.
Mich. . Well, I pity angels that are water-carriers. Though I
am poor, and belong to the people, I will never see the virtuous
perish while I have an arm to help them. {To Constance,) When
I saved you, Madame, from the soldiers, you seemed to be humbly
dressed?
10
Con. That dress I still wear beneath this cloak.
Mich. That is just what is wanted.
Con. To this disguise, which for three days I have never
quitted, I owe my very life, and the good fortune of having met
you. (She throws her cloak and hat into the arm chair, and appears
in a Swiss dress, with a little handkerchief on her head,) You see
what a change I can make in one instant
Mich. (Laughing heartily.) Ha ! ha ! wonderful. Any one would
take you for one of the Savoyards living in this district Whether
it be that that dress recalls to me my mountain home, I know not,
but your appearance is charming. (Seriously.) Can you still
continue to wear that humble dress ?
Cox. I owe so much to it, that, believe me, I love it dearly.
Mich. To aid my plan you would have to beome low.
Con. (Proudly.) Sir!
Mich. You would have to call yourself Antonio's sister — in
one word, you would have to pass for my daughter.
Con. (Seizing his hand.) Generous man, there is no abase-
ment there. Who would not be proud to claim relationship with
such a noble, honest heart ? [Loud knocking.
No doubt your children.
Mich. No! they don't knock so loud as that (Goes to the
door.) Who's there ?
( Without.) Open in the name of the ,Queen.
Con. Good Heavens !
Mich. Hush !
Arm. What is to be done ?
Mich. Quick — the bed of my father !
[Armand disappears behind the curtains of
the Alcove, where Micheli throws Con-
stance's hat and cloak. Micheli then
goes to the chair where the clothes are and
spreads them out upon* it; places the arm
chair with the crutch from the back, close
to the bed, with the list slippers. Con-
stance arranges the curtains in the utmost
agitation. All this must be instantaneous.
Mich. Keep your face to the wall.
Without. Are you going to open ?
Mich. (Loudly.) Well, I'm coming — I'm coming. (Softly to
11
Contsance.) Stand by the bed awkwardly and timidly, and remem-
ber, madame, all now depends on courage.
Con. cruel fortune, when will thy persecutions cease !
[Micheli opens the door. Enter Command-
ant and Soldiers. One Soldier carries a
register, another a lighted lantern.
Comm. Guard the door and let no one pass. (To Micheli.) Why
were you so.long opening ?
Mich. If you were as tired as I am with dragging my water
cart about all day, you would not ask that. But gentlemen, pray
speak softly, I have a poor invalid yonder (pointing to the Alcove.)
What is your will, sir ?
Comm. To search your place, and make sure that you are not
concealing any of the enemies of the Cardinal.
Mich. (Angrily.) Oh certainly, you are sure to find lots of
nobility here.
Comm. Where does that door lead ? (Pointing to door at back.)
Mich. Into my bed chamber.
Comm. (To Soldiers.) Search it. (Two Soldiers with the lantern
enter the room.) Meanwhile we will verify our instructions. (Takes
the register, opens it and reads.) Antonio Micheli, Savoyard by
birth. Three persons.
Mich. (Boioing.) At your service, sir.
Comm. (Examining the appearance 0/ Micheli.) Good. (Con-
tinuing to read the register.) Daniel Micheli, his father, also a
Savoyard; aged 71, and infirm.
Mich. He is there, in his bed, sir. (Pointing to Alcove.
[The Comm. draws aside the curtains to the
great terror of Con. Arm. appears asleep ;
the coverlid drawn up to his chin, his face
to the wall, and his head, with a gray
worsted nightcap, buried in pillows. The
Comm. examines the slippers, crutch and
clothes, and then with a gesture of com-
miseration turns to Mich.
Mich. I am satisfied.
Con. Thank Heaven — I breathe again !
Comm. (Continuing to read the register.) Marcelina Micheli, his
daughter.
Mich. There she is. (Pointing to Con., still trembling.) Now,
12
then, come forward. (Dragging her roughly hy lier arms.) Just see
how she trembles !
Con. Oh, father !
Mich. Oh, father — oh, father. Are you afraid these gentlemen
are going to eat you ?
Con. I am not used to —
Mich. {SHU pretending the same rough manner.) I am not
used to — I am not used to — why don't you curtsy, Miss ? (She
hesitates.) Curtsy at once when I tell you. (Con. does it very awk-
wardly and unwillingly.) Bah, the little stupid !
Comm. These are all your household ?
Mich. Every one, on the faith of a water-carrier.
Enter Ant.
Ant. Well, of all the fools that commissaire —
[He is seized by two soldiers.
Mich. (Aside.) This is awkward.
Ant. But I tell you 1 belong to the house — in one wprd, I am —
[Mich, runs to him and stops him.
Mich. What now, you foolish boy? How dare you come in
making such a noise, when, even these polite gentlemen had the
kindness to keep quiet. Don't you see that your grandfather is
asleep ?
Ant. Asleep?
Comm. Who is this young man ?
Mich. My son, living in the village of Gonesse, where he is
about to be married, and he has come to fetch his sister here for
the wedding. [Pointing to Con.
Con. Well, brother, you have been a long time.
[Ant., astonished, looks at Con.
Co mm. If that be so he must have a passport from the Syndic of
Gonesse ?
Mich. He has just had it viseed. (To Ant. roughly.) Why
don't you show it and not stand gaping there ? Oh, dear, what
fooL* lads are that live in the country !
[Ant. gives the paper to the Comm., and while
it is being examined Mich, calls him aside.
Mich. (Aside.) If you say a word we are lost.
Comm. (Examining the paper of Ant.) Your name ?
Mich. His name, sir, is —
Comm. Silence — let him reply.
Ant. (In the greatest confusion.) What — my name ?
13
Comm. Your name — Don't you know it ?
Mich. Now then, stupid, why don't you answer?
Ant. {Despairingly,) Antonio Micheli. •
[The Comm. verifies each reply by the passport.
Comm. Your age ?
Ant. Twenty- two.
Gomm. Where do you live ?
Ant. ( With great volubility.) In the village of Gonesse, which
I left the day before yesterday after my betrothal, and 1 am going
back to-morrow morning with my sister, and I am going to be
married the next day.
Mich. {Aside.) How fast he can speak when it concerns his
marriage.
Comm. ( Giving bach the paper.) Quite correct ; but why do you
tremble, young man ? I am severe in the fulfillment of my duty,
but am always happy when the suspected I find to be guiltless.
( To the soldiers.) We must search elsewhere.
[Exeunt Commandant and Soldiers.
[When Micheli has bowed off the soldiers,
Constance points out to him Antonio,
who is still standing immovable and stu-
pified.
Ant. Father, what is all this ?
Mich. (Quickly.) You shall know in time, but where is your
grandfather and sister ?
Ant. At" the draper's at the corner, where Marcelina stopped to
buy a ribbon for the Wedding.
Mich. Heaven be thanked for .it. Eun and rejoin them, and
don't let them enter here 'till the soldiers are far off.
Ant. But once more —
Mich. (Pushing him out.) Do what I tell you, and, remember
our lives are in danger.
Ant. In that case I am off.
f Euns out, and Micheli locks the door.
Mich. On the faith of a water-carrier another danger past !
(Goes to the alcove and opens the curtains.) Well, grandfather, are
you still asleep ? (Armand comes forward and presses his hand.)
Your slumber was a little disturbed, was it not ? Ha ! ha ! ha !
Con. Dear Micheli, happy indeed must you be thus to keep up
your heart in the midst of danger. I felt sure I would betray my-
self.
14
' l
Mich. N*ay, Madame; you played your part to admiration.
What I did was merely my duty, to try to save my fellow creatures*
Do you still persist in going with your husband ?
Con. 1 do, indeed ; but how is it to be done ?
Mich. Thus. My daughter has gone for a passport to allow her
to go to-morrow to her brother's wedding ; you will take her place,
and thus join your husband without risk. It is necessary you
should recruit your strength, so before you retire for the night we
will have a pleasant little family supper, pud afterwards I will make
the necessary preparations.
[Soft knock.
Ant. ( Wfflwut.) Here we are, father.
Mich. Here come my children.
[Micheli opens the door. Enter Daniel, An-
tonio, and Maroelina. Micheli locks the
door again. Antonio starts on seeing Ar-
MAND.
Ant. Oh, Heaven, whom do I now behold !
'Tis he, 'tis he, there's no denying ;
He, of whom you have been told,
That saved my life when from want dying.
Mich. What, he who did that goodness show ?
Ant. Yes, yes ; 'tis he. The face I know.
Mich. With gladness I feel suffocating.
Arm. Why thus disturb'd — what's that he's stating ?
Ant. See one whose grateful heart joy warms ;
That Savoyard, who in your arms,
At Berne 'twas one night,
You saved when cold and starving.
Arm. Can this be true,
The young Antonio, you ?
Ant. The same. Antonio, and well known ;
The water-carrier's grateful son.
Arm. and Con. He — Antonio, by all known ;
The generous water-carrier's son.
All. Praised be Heaven, such kindness showing,
It to our prayers thus attends ;
How sweet the benefits it sends ;
No one could greater joy be knowing.
Ant. (7b Armand.) When the soldiers search'd the place 'twas
you hid in that bed ?
15
Mich. Of course ; the secret now you gather.
Arm. Without the aid of thy good generous father,
With my dear wife, then, 1 soon to death had been
led.
Mich. So far good; but there's something more to do re-
maining ;
Do not forget,
They're not safe yet ;
Children, dear, I your aid hope to be obtaining.
Ant. and Mar. Say what is there to do remaining ?
Mich. Give to me the new passport with which you return.
[Marceli^a gives it to him, and he gives it to
Constance.
Here's all you require ; take great care this to learn :
The names, surnames, abode and calling ;
And then you shall, to-morrow morning,
With my dear son depart from here.
Mar. What's this, father. What is your meaning ?
Mich. To the wedding you cannot go.
Mar. How ? — To the wedding I can't go ?
But I don't choose, Sir, here remaining.
Mich; 'Tis my will that it shall be so.
Mar. This is too bad, all must allow.
Mich. Now, then, you your nonsense smother.
Mar. If I don't see the wedding of my brother,
Consoled, you'll see, I'll never be.
Arm. and Con. Mioheli, now angry with her don't be.
Mich. (To Marcelina.) How now; silence keep, aitd quiet be.
Ant. (To Mar.) To calm thy heart, say this — Who saved my
brother,
Now do I save in return.
Mich. To calm thy heart, say this — I aid my father j
Purest joy with him to earn.
Arm. and Con. In us the cause of her grief learn.
Mar. 'Tis well ; without me then depart,
While I remain at home.
Arm. and Con. Kind, gentle maid — how good her heart !
Mich, and Ant. Full well I knew your gentle heart.
All. * Praised be Heaven, &c.
[All retire to the room at back
* END OF ACT ONE.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — One of the old barriers of Paris, to which several streets
lead. The gate of the barrier, to tohich is a draw-
bridge, is at the back. On the left next the gate
is a guard-house, and beside it a sentry-box. On
the other side of the barrier, to the right, are battle-
ments, beyond which trees are seen, losing themselves
in the distance, and showing *the beginning of a sub-
urb. At the rising of the curtain, a sentry is seen
pacing by the sentry-box. Soldiers are grouped
abouU while their halberds are in a corner by the
guard-house*
CHORUS,
No mercy show, no prayers be heeding—
Careful guard,
All prepaid,
Them to take,
Prisoners make,
Such are our orders.
Lieut. Brave comrades, come prepare, v
And let the greatest vigilance here
Be now of all the care.
And the gratitude deserving,
We shall gain of Mazarin.
Careful guard
Will bring reward
On all him serving.
Enter Commandant.
Comm. What news ?
Lieut. None, Captain— few attempt to escape while it is day-
light.
Comm. Yet I must warn you, that this very morning you may
probably put your hand on a most important person.
Lieut. How?
16
17
i
[The soldiers form a half circle round.
Count. (Mysteriously,) Know all, that I have most certain in-
formation, that Count Armand, who dared defy and threaten Car-
dinal Mazarin, is concealed in these parts — has passed the night
here, and will probably attempt to escape by this barrier. Remem-
ber, six thousand ducats are offered for him, dead or alive ; so listen
to his description (reads from a paper). Jules Hyppolite Armand,
member of the parliament of Paris; age, about 28; height, five
feet seven inches; hair and eyebrows, dark ; nose, aquiline ; eyes,
hazel, and full of fire; proud and haughty bearing; six thousand
ducats reward,
Lieut. Enough, Captain. I shall remain here all the morning,
and will myself examine all who present themselves.
Comx. I want ten men from you to add to the detachment with
which I am about to search some of the neighboring villages, where
I have heard that some of the members fled last night. The busi-
ness is important, so select your best men. I will rest awhile in
the guard-room, and when the detachment comes, you will call me 9
[He enters the guard-house. Enter Constance
and Antonio. She wears the same disguise,
a small basket on her arm, and a small
gourd attached to a string slung across her
shoulder. He carries a bundle on his back,
and a big knotty stick in his hand.
J Antonio gives his passport to the Lieutenant.
LlBUT. (After examining it)* Good.
[Constance, with a curtsy, presents hers,
which he looks at.
This is of no use.
Ant. How of no use?
LtEOT. The description is wrong,
Con- It is just, sir, as they gave it to me.
Lieut. {Looking fixedly at hen) Your name ?
Ant. You have got it there,
Lieut Silence! (To Vonstance.) Your name?
Con. Anne Marcelina MichelL
Lieut. Where do you live ?
Con. With my father, Antonio Micheli, a Savoyard water-carrier,
in the Rue d'Anjou, in this quarter close by.
Lieut. Where are you going ?
Con. To the wedding of my brother here, who has come from
2
18
.(Sronesse to fetch me as you may see by that paper {pointing to tTie
one in Antonio's hand).
Lieut. That is all quite correct I must allow, but the descrip-
tion here is wrong — it says blue eyes and dark hair, while your are
fair with dark eyes. (Sharply.) Look at me. (Still more sharply.)
Look at me, I say.
Con. (Alarmed.) Your glances frighten me.
Lieut. Why do you tremble ?
Ant, You frighten her so.
Lieut. Silence — away with her to the guard house.
[Soldiers seize Constance.
Con. Brother dear, by the love you bear me, Antonio do not me
here forsake.
[Antonio tears her from the soldiers.
Ant. Ere they from my arms shall tear thee, my life first from
me shall they take.
Lieut. What is this ? Tremble at our anger. Dare you resist
• nor vengeance fear ?
Ant. Defending my sister dear from danger, can you call that
resistance here. '
Con. Ah, pray pardon a brother's feelings, and one moment grant
my suit to hear.
Lieut. No, not one word more will I hear.
Ant. My heart's dire rage there there is no concealing.
Chorus. Tear them asunder.
Ant. Stand back, or dread my fury ;
Her fate am I resolved to share,
He shall die who to advance shall dare.
[Antonio sustains Constance with one hand
and raises the stick in the other. One sol-
dier seizes the stick while others tear away
„ . "Constance. Momentary silence. Enter
Commandant.
Comm. What noise f is this? -What means this disturbance ?
Lieut. This young man dared to resist us.
Comm. (Severely.) Dared to resist you ?
Lieut. He is the son of the Savoyard, Micheli, and says that
this maiden is his sister.
Comm. (Dropping his air of severity and speaking kindly.)
.That is true. J know them both. ;
19
Con. (Runs to Commandant.) Heaven has sent you to help
us ! Is it not true, sir, that I am the daughter of Micheli ?
Comm. Of course it is, pretty one (touching her on the chin).
Con. You saw me at home with him last night, when you
searched our dwelling ?
. Comm. Nothing, could be more true.
Con. (To Lieut.) Now, sir, perhaps you'll believe us another
time? ,
Lieut. Are you sure, Captain ?
Comm. Perfectly. You can ask the soldiers who accompanied
me in the search.
[Micheli, without, is heard crying " Water."
Ant. Here comes father, just at the right moment.
[Enter Micheli, dragging in his water-cart,
} which he brings a few paces on the stage.
Mich. (To CoNSTlNCEa^ Antonio.) Now then, my children,
why are you loitering here ? I thought you would have been a
good way on your road by this time.
Ant. So we would have been, father, had they not stopped us.
Mich. (Leaning back on his cart, with an air of astonishment*)
Stopped you — what for ?
Con. Because in that naughty paper they must have been
making a jest of me ; they have actually put me down with blue
eyes and dark hair, so they won't believe here that I am your
daughter.
Mich. Well, this beats all, on the faith of a water-carrier !
Ant. Yes, and they were going to take us both to the guard-
room. ^
Con. (Rushing into Micheli's arms.) But my fears are all
gone now that you are here, dear father.
Mich. Good girl, good girl. (To the two officers.) May I ask,
gentlemen, why my children were stopped ?
Lieut. (Showing her passport) This passport is so full of
errors as to make me doubtful. (To Commandant.) It would not
be amiss, Captain, to bring them all before the commissaire who
gave the passport, to make sure that she is the daughter of this
water-carrier.
Con. (Aside to Mich.) We are lost
Mich. (Aside to Const.) Courage, Madame. (Aside.) Make
sure that she is my daughter ! I think I ought to know some-
thing about that.
Lieut. Silence, fellow ; I did not speak to you.
Mich. You see it was so late last night when he gave my
20
#
daughter the passport that he might easily take one color for an-
other. One thing is certain, she is my own dear child (embrac-
ing her), and you, gentlemen, I hope will let her pass with her
hrother; should she be delayed she will have to walk through the
great heat of the day.
Lieut. The heat has nothing to do with it.
Mich. It has a great to do with it, sir, and my word might he
/ taken. I have lived in this quarter for fifteen years, am well
known, and will be answerable for them on the faith of a Water-
man.
Comm. I really do not see why we need to stop them any longer,
being convinced, as I am, of their identity.
Lieut. You think so, captain ?
Comm. Certainly. Our duty is to watch over Paris and not tyran
nize over the poor. Should there beany mistake, I will take it upon
myself.
Lieut. In that case, I have nothing more to say. (To Con.
giving her her passport.) There, but another time observe how
they describe you.
Mich. She must first learn to read. (To Ant.) Do not walk
too fast ; remember, she is not accustomed to your country jour-
neys. (To Con.) And you, dear child, be hopeful and pru-
dent, and {markedly) know that here I have a good husband in
store for you.
Cons. Dear father, rely upon me.
Mich. Now, then, children, it is time you were off.
Con. (Aside, embracing Mich.) Good Micheli, my gratitude is
ever thine.
Mich. (Aside to Con.) No#a word, Madame ; they observe us.
(Con. turns and curtsys to the two officers.) Children, delay no
longer. (To the Comm.) Captain, I thank you. (To Con. and
Ant.) Farewell, my children, we shall soon meet again.
Ant' } Far ewell, dear father.
. [Con. and Ant. pass through the gate after
saluting the Lieut., who replies kindly, and
they disappear 'neath the trees.
Comm. Your daughter, friend, is certainly very pretty.
Mich. She is better than pretty, sir ; she is good. She is loved
by the entire neighborhood.
[Mich, hooks himself to his water cart and is
about to draw it through the barrier, when
he is stopped by the sentry.
2L
Sen. Can't pass.
Mich, {Astonished.) I can't pass?
Comm. Our orders are most strict to let no vehicle pass without
special permission.
Mich. And do you call that a vehicle ?
Lieut. (Sharply.) Don't answer. You shall not pass.
Mich. Well, if I can't, I can't ; and I am not going to grieve
about that. My customers outside must go without water to-day ;
that's all.
Sold. That needn't prevent your filling the guard-room kettle.
Mich. With all my heart. [Talcing his buckets.
Sold. (Knocking the cask.) How much does that hold ?
Mich. About twenty pailfuls. It's hard work dragging it about
all day.
Comm. Your's is a hard life, good toan.
Mich. I don't say it is not, Captain ; but there are moments
when I would not change it for any other — no, I would not change
it for any other.
[Mich, draws water into his bucket out of the
cask and takes it into the guard house.
Lieut. If, as you have made us hope, Count Armand should
come to this barrier, what a rich day it will be for us.
Comm:. Say for you, not for me.
Lieut. Why, you will get the largest share of the reward.
Comm. I share the price of a man's life — never ! To arrest the
Count, should I meet him, is my duty; that I will do.
Lieut. Was it not in this water-carrier's abode we were told
Count Armand passed the night?
Comm. It was.
Lieut. I will speak to this Savoyard. People of his condition
know everybody. I will see if we cannot tempt him by an offer
of a share of the reward.
Comm. Here he comes — leave him to me.
[Micheli comes from the guard-house, and
hangs his buckets on hooks that are behind
the water cart.
Comm. Come here, my good fellow. Don't you live in the Rue
d'Anjou ?
Mich. You know, Captain. On the right as you enter it, and
at the bottom of that dark passage.
Comm. We searched there last night, because we heard that
Count Armand was concealed somewhere thereabout.
22
Mich. (Pretending astonishment.) Only think of that.
Lieut. Have you heard or seen anything by which yon could
form a guess ?
Mich. (As if suddenly struck with an idea.) Just wait a
moment.
Lieut. (Quickly.) Help us in this and your fortune is made.
Mich. How ?
Lieut. Six thousand ducats will be given those who deliver
him up, dead or alive.
Mich. Six thousand ducats !
Lieut. One thousand shall be your share, if you can lead us
to him.
Mich. (Quickly.) One thousand, all for me? Listen! A
quarter of an hour ago, as I was dragging my cart, I saw, at the
end of one street, a man enveloped in a cloak — yes, in a dark cloak,
and he crept close by the houses, as if looking for some place to
hide in. -
Comm. How old did he seem ?
Mich. About twenty-eight or thirty.
Lieut. Middle height ?
Mich. Yes.
Lieut. Dark hair in ringlets to his shoulders ?
Mich. Precisely.
Comm. Proud and lofty bearing ?
Mich. (Pretending great joy at each detail.) The same, the
same. u My friend/' he whispered to me, " can you tell me if the
guard at the barrier is composed of French soldiers?" "Italian,"
I replied. " Italian ?" said he ; " are they many ?" " Thirty men
and two officers." " Thirty men," he cried, while his eyes flashed ,
" if there were only four of them !"
Lieut. 'Tis the Count.
Mich. As he uttered those words he redoubled his pace till he
stealthily entered a door which he found open in the street, and
then I lost sight of him."
Lieut. Do you know that door?
Mich. As Well as my own.
Comm. This happened a quarter of an hour ago ?
Mich. At the utmost.
Comm. In this neighborhood ?
Mich. Not two hundred steps from here.
Lieut. Let the rappel be beaten.
33
Mich. Don't do, that Captain, for that would warn him thai
you are coming.
•^ Comm. You are right.
Mich. If I might advise you, gentlemen, I would say, select
come of your best men and follow me at a distance, as if you were
the ordinary patrol; I will stop opposite that door, and when you
reach it you can rush into the house* and search it well, so the
man in the cloak won't escape you.
Lieut. I will make sure of that
Comm. Come on, by duty guided,
Brave soldiers, do not repine,
These gix thousand ducats so fine,
Shall fairly midst all be divided.
And one thousand of them be mine !
Heaven, by Thee be my steps guided ;
Save Armand from their fell design.
(The two officers enter the guard-house
* Mich, draws his cart to the back, and when
the sentry, in pacing his beat, turns his
back Mich, opens the cask, from which Ar-
mand swiftly glides and disappears in the
distance. He has scarcely passed the bar-
rier and Mich, closed the cask again, when
the sentry turns.
Mich.
{Aside.)
Mich.
Comm.
Mich.
Chob.
Comm.
Micheli, be prompt now, and bold ;
The favoring hours behold ;
He of the cloak is safe at last ;
No, ne'er was there such a cask
That brought me so much gain and pleasure ;
'Tis a rich joke, beyond all measure.
[Enter the two officers and soldiers from the
guard-house.
Come on^— march on ; each spot be guarded*
(Heaven, I crave,
These loving ones save !
Saving them my heart is rewarded.)
Be silent all, and ready to assist us,
Our prey he surely shall become.
Should he not yield, but dare to resist us ?
24
Chos. That moment neath our weapons,
To death he must succumb.
(Mich, wheels his cart.off the same side he
entered, followed at a distance by the
Lieut, and some soldiers; Comm. reenters
the guard-house with the rest and the drop
falls*
END OF ACT SECOND.
ACT III.
SCENTS I. — Tlie village of Oonesse. At back, the brook of Could,
across which is a wooden bridge leading to the vil-
lage. On the right is the farm-house of Semos.
On the lefty a wood. In the centre a tree, at foot
of which is a green bank.
Angelina is on the bridge, looking off.
Sem. ( Without.) Angelina ! {Entering from the house.) An-
gelina!
.Ang. Here, father dear. (Coming to him.)
8 em. Do you see them coming ?
Ang. Alas, no.
Sem. The day is getting on and the sim sheds its full force
upon us.
Ang. This the morning of our marriage, and Antonio not yet
come ! '
Sem. Perhaps his sister delayed him.
Ang. That is not the way to make me like her. Antonio has
always told me how amiable and gentlp she was. Dear Antonio,
wfiy not hasten to thy betrothed ?
Sem. He cannot be much longer; so suppose we go to meet
them ?
Ang. Ah, that I will most willingly, my father.
[Exeunt.
Enter Ant. and Con.
Ant. Here we are at last. Pardon me, Madame, for bringing
you such a roundabout and dreary way, but it was necessary for
the safety of your husband, who cannot be far behind us. While
you rest here awhile I will go back and bring him hither.
[Exit.
Con. Alas, that danger should ever wait on such a true, devoted
heart. Armand, my husband, the joy of my existence, the friend
and brave defender ol the weak ; though persecuted by tyrants,
Heaven will still protect thee. Never shall he be deserted who so
25
26
nobly dares a tyrant's vengeance, aud stands the champion of his
country.
EECIT.
At length alone am I,
His loving, tender glances
Within my soul
Are by memory impressed.
Noble heart, whose rare courage
t>anger ne'er could shake.
Gentle, sad thoughts steal o'er me
Of days forever past,
When all shone bright before me.
A EI A.
When sorrow gathers rouncl the heart,
And numbs with woe each tender feeling,
Then should Love, its power revealing,
Comfort bring and new strength impart.
Must he then be lost and forever,
And parted from my love ? Ah, never !
Heart, be still ! Though all looks so drear ;
Yet behind this sad griefs dark lining.
With beams unfading pure and clear,
The light of hope is brightly shining.
Heart be still ! There's a power above
That from man's cruel wrong can shield us,
And pitying our grief and love,
Its mighty aid it here will yield us.
Hope and love shall then be our guide.
We'll danger meet, bold and true hearted,
What for us Fate may yet protfde ;
From love we never can be parted. s
When sorrow gathers, &c.
Enter Arm. and Ant.
Arm. Constance, my own beloved. Oh, what joy thus to meet
again !
Con. I never doubted, dear noble heart, that Heaven would cease
to protect thee.
Ant. Madame, here you may remain in perfect safety; but until
J
27
I can explain all to my father-in-law, that is to be, your husband
must still conceal himself from all.
AftM. With all my heart. I can endure everything while blessed
with the consciousness that my Constance is safe.
Ant. You, sir, might hide in the foliage of the tree ; it is dense
and thick, and no one would suspect your presence so close to the
house of Semos.
Cox. It will not be for long, husband dear, for this message you
sent your friends by the hands of Micheli will make the Cardinal
tremble for his own welfare.
Arm., Dearest, I will do as you desire; but keep me not long in
suspense.
Cox. Not an instant more than is necessary, and the signal for
your appearance sljall be this.
[Claps her hand three times.
Arm. Bless thee, my own adored.
[Embraces her and climbs the tree.
Enter Ang. and Semos.
Ang. Here they are, father. Antonio !
Ant. Angelina ! {Embracing.) Behold my sister, my dear Mar-
celina.
Ang. Henceforth she is my sister also.
Semos. What made you so late ?
Ant. Well, we started early, but you see, my dear sister there
is not accustomed to walking.
Semos. And where is your father ?
Ant. He will be here shortly; but see, here come the villagers.
Enter Vil. with presents.
Chorus. Thus here to meet thee,
Maidens now greet thee
Upon this day ;
'Even may each true lover
Such perfect joy discover
As fills these hearts, we ever pray.
Accept this pretty turtle dove,
An emblem true of faithful love.
Oh may your hearts until this life be past,
In love united continue to the last.
A?tg. Oh, sweetest pleasure, joy my heart doth own.
Chorus. What sounds are these we hear approaching ?
28
\
/
Semos. A band of soldiers comes this way.
Ang. But not I hope in our village to stay.
Semos. They now towards the square are marching.
Chorus. Let's go; we'll meet them on the way.
Enter Comm. and Soldiers.
Comm. A merry-making, eh ?
Semos. Yes, Captain; my daughter's wedding, and her young
neighbors have come to offer their congratulations.
Comm. Well, I do not wish to disturb them or to cast a gloom
upon this festive scene, but duty must be attended to ; we are here
in pursuit of some fugitives from justice, and your name is Semos,
I believe.
Semos. You are perfectly right, gallant Captain, as you always
are.
Com.m Hem ! Have you seen any strangers lurking about the
place ?
Semos. Only yourself, Captain, and your men.
Comm. Hem ! You will have to lodge us for the night.
Semos. Most willingly, noble Captain; but you will find the
house very full.
Comm. No matter. Shelter to the head and a chair for a couch
is all we require.
Semos. That you are heartily welcome to, and you shall have a
bottle of rare old wine as a night-cap. This way, gentlemen.
Con. (Aside.) And my husband there must be fainting with
fatigue and thirst.
[Exeunt omnes into cottage.
[Armand descends from the tree and ad-
vances.
Arm. How warm it is in yonder tree ! Let me breathe the fresh
air for a moment. Oh, Constance, how I tremble for your fate !
How can you escape from the dangers that surround you ? Heaven
watch over and protect her. To Thy hands I commend her. Some
one comes ; I must retire.
[Goes back into the tree
[Enter the two Soldiers with wine.
1st. Sol. There's not room to turn round in the house there;
every place is taken up with preparing for this wedding.
2d Sol. Let us sit down here beneath the tree ; it seems nice
and cool.
[They sit.
29
1st Sol. This wine is delicious.
2d Sol. And so is the Savoyard — Micheli's daughter.
1st Sol. Could we not induce her to take a nice walk with us in
the forest yonder ?
2d Sol. Oh, she is too frightened of us ; besides the Captain
would make short work of us if we offended her.
1st Sol. Perhaps she won't be so frightened of us after all ; sup-
pose we try, for here she comes.
[They hide behind the tree. Con. enters with
a small basket and looks cautiously round.
Con. How painful is his situation! I could no longer delay
bringing him some refreshment, for indeed he must need it sadly
, {Puts down the basket.) Let me be sure that no one is observing*
(She looks round on every side while the two soldiers dodge her
round the tree.) All seem quiet — now to give the signal. (She
claps her hand three tiines.) All 'silent ; did he not hear me ?
Con. This silence fills my heart with fears;
Has aught his presence been disclosing ?
Then gently now will I draw near —
(Calls.) Love, 'tis I, with dread my heart is closing.
(She approaches the tree and is suddenly seized
by the two soldiers.
Con. Give me help.
1st Sol. Be silent or you here shall perish.
Con. Give me help !
1st Sol. Be silent if your life you'd save.
Con. What would you, inhuman monsters ?
Sols. In vain escape from us you crave.
[Con. struggles with the soldiers, when Arm,
leaps from the tree, tears her from them*
and standing in the centre, presents a pistol
at each.
Arm. Stand back then — villains, hold!
[With one knee on the ground, he sustains
Con. on the other, who lays her head on
his shoulder. Semos, Ang., Comm., Vil-
lagers, Soldiers, &c, all rush on. General
tableau.
Comm. What have they done? let me be told.
Arm. They of my presence little knowing,
Had attacked this defenceless woman.
30
Omnes. But now who ean this stranger be ?
[Comm. orders off the two soldiers under
arrest, and turns to Arm.
Comm. What business brought you here ?
, And your name we must learn now.
Ant. Alas, he is lost, I plainly see !
Arm. (Proudly.) Sir, my name does not concern you.
Comm. That look ! — a strange presentiment —
Sir, your name?
Arm Would you know it ?
Comm. At once.
Arm. Well, then, I am —
[Con. recovering, embraces him.
Con. Armand !
Omnes. Armand?
Arm. Yes, behold ! Armand am I,
.And for my country doomed to die.
VrL. A strange event to come to-day.
Ant. Armand is lost — is lost this day.
Con. Oh, horror ! — oh remorse ! Horrid fear,
I have betrayed my Armand dear.
Sol. And so we have found Armand here.
What joy for us thus to appear.
Vil. . This the good Armand all revere ;
What strange event has brought him here ?
Arm. Yes, soldiers, I am Armand, here.
Ant. Armand is lost, is lost I fear.
Comm. What do I hear ? Is she I thought the daughter of the
water-carrier your wife ?
Arm. She is, Captain ; my own true, devoted wife, who, in a
vain endeavor to preserve.me, has undergone all those dangers and
disguises, but now all is lost save honor.
Comm. Count, I have a sad duty to perform; but duty it is and
must be done. Soldiers, arrest him.
Con. (Clinging to Armand.) And me also; he has my heart,
and his am I in joy or sadness, in life or death.
[Mich, rushes on with a document in his
hand.
Mich. Hold! Hold! Look there, Captain. (Giving Comm. the
papers.) A free pardon for Count Armand, and countersigned by
31
the Cardinal himself. His eminence dreaded the spirit he had
roused in the people, and to restore his popularity has pardoned
their brave champions. What think you of that paper, Captain ?
Is it as good as my daughter's passport — eh ? Ha! ha ! ha!
Comm. Never mention that confounded passport again, although
I will not pretend to regret it. (To Arm.) Believe me, sir, I sin-
cerely share in yo,ur joy. He who, by duty, is compelled to execute
orders that wound the feelings, is more to be pitied than blamed.
Arm. Say no more^ Captain; I can thoroughly appreciate your
sentiments.
Mich. Now then, all, one good shout for Count Armand and
his devoted wife, the Lady Constance. Hurrah !
Omnes. Hurrah !
Here let each heart with joy be crown'd,
And with songs blithe and merry, wake the echoes
round.
Mich. And while you raise your grateful voices,
Know there is naught the heart rejoices
Like the reward in virtue found.
FINALE.
s
APRIL, 15th, 1871.
& Sons
PIANO-FORTES,
354 Washington Street, 11 East Fourteenth Street,
BOSTON. NEW YORK.
GREAT REDUCTION IN PRICES.
PRICES FIXED.
We this day issue a New Catalogue, in which we print our
very Lowest Prices, and from which we make no Discounts
or Deviation whatever.
Our object is to furnish to our Patrons the yeby best Pianos
which can be' manufactured, and at the very Lowest Pbioe§
which will yield us a fair remuneration. . -••
Being convinced that the prevailing system among Manu-
facturers of and Dealers in Musical Instruments to charge
very High Prices, and make Large Discounts, is wholly
wrong and unjust, we have adopted the ONE PRICE
SYSTEM, believing this to be the proper course, which will
secure justice to the purchaser, and establish a STANDARD
PRICE for the Pianos of our manufacture, wherever they may
be offered for sale.
Our reputation as the First Manufacturers in the Country
being fully established, and the Superiority of our Instru-
ments being acknowledged by the Voluntary Testimony of
the Leading Artists of this Country and of Europe, and the
Awards of the Highest Recompenses over all Competition,
at the different Industrial Exhibitions of Europe and America,
we are confident that, at the Prices upon our New List,' our
Pianos will be found to be The Cheapest, and we solicit a
comparison of our Prices with those of any other Fjrst-Class
Manufacturers, after allowing the Discounts which they may
offer. - *
It will be our aim, as it has been during the past Forty-
eight Years, to make the very best possible Instruments in
every respect. Our rules .are : Never to sacrifice Quality or
Work done To Economy of Manufacture.
Never to consider anything good enough which is capable of
jmerovement, and never to allow any opportunity to escape us
of availing ourselves of every Real Improvement whereby the
Quality or Resources of the Instrument may be enhanced.
We do not adopt any trifling changes, nor do we takeout
Unnecessary Patents, for the purpose of. Advertising. -We
never make any radical changes without being fully convinced
that such change is desirable and an improvement to the
Instrument.
We aim to deserve success, by issuing such Instruments as
ahall be a permanent guarantee of the reliability and quality
of our manufacture. ' ••'
Our prices are set as low as they possibly can be, to insure
the most perkect WoBXKiffSHiP, and the very best Quality
of Materials used in every branch of the business.
Every Piano made by us is Fully Warranted, and satisfac-
tion guaranteed to. the purchaser.
In claiming a sUpiRiO&tf Y for the Checkering Pianos over
AtTi others made, we would call special attention to the Perfect
£vfe?NESS OF THE SCALES, throughout thfe ENTIRE REGISTERS. ' '*
The Singing Quality of Tone, so favorably noticed by all.
the Great Artists.
The Power and Quality of Tone, Delicacy of Touch,
Perfection of the Mechanism, Durability and General
Excellence of Workmanship, asp Beauty o? Finish.!
Every Piano Sold by Us is fully
Warranted. •
»
It is needless to refer to the reputation our firm has sus-
tained for nearly half a century as manufacturers ; suffice it to
say that the quality and solidity of material used by us has
been fully verified in our Instruments, to be found in every
section of the Union, and in nearly every city and country
throughout the World. .We have received the fullest and most
flattering testimonials from the
LEADING ARTISTS OP THIS COUNTRY AND EUROPE,
likewise the award of 76 Prize Medals over all our competitors
FOR RICHNESS OP TONE, SUPERIORITY OP WORKMANSHIP,
AND FINENESS OP FINISH.
It is, of course, desirable that a personal inspection be made
by those who desire to purchase ; yet it is hoped that these
pages will meet the wants of those who, from lack of time or
convenience, are unable to secure it, assist them in forming a
correct idea of the Instrument, and assuring them that they can
order by letter with entire confidence of receiving as perfect an
Instrument as though selected in person at our warerooms.
For the benefit of those who are not accustomed to select
Pianos, we present below a few of the points which it is well
to consider in purchasing, and in which our instruments are
considered superior to others : -
1. Quality of Tone.
2. Body or Power of Tone. ...... , •
3. Equality or Evenness of Tone.
4. Delicacy and Power of Action.
5. Style of Finish.
, 6. Quality of Finish.
7. Durability.
We do not pretend to compete in prices with what are called
Cheap Pianos, but we do mean to give the Best Piano that
can be made, and at the Lowest Prices which will yield us a
Fair Remuneration.
increasing the product of our manufactory, we have been
induced to adopt this system of East Monthly Paymbbts,
following the plan of the great European manufacturers,
whereby hundreds of persons to whom it would be very incon-
venient to pay the full price of an instrument at once, will now
be enabled to buy a First-Class Piano, having a year's time
in which to pay for it.
Send for a Catalogue giving full particulars.
CHICKERING & SONS.
Pianos for Schools and Seminaries.
Seven Oct. Square Piano in Walnut Case, Plain Legs,
Interior precisely the same as our best 7 Oct.
Square Pianos, at $42$
Black Walnut Upright Pianos ; 7 Oct. ; Three Unisons ;
Solid Walnut Oases, with all improvements, made
... to order 500
Grand, Square or Upright Pianos made to order to
suit any Style of Farniture, and Highly
Ornamented Cases.
All our Square Pianos have Overstrung Bass, Fret Desks,
Carved Lyres, and Solid Bosewood Mouldings.
. All our Grand Pianos have Agraffe Bridge throughout;
Three Unisons ; Bepeating Action, and all Modern Improve*
ments.
All our Upright Pianos have Three Unisons, and are madf
with our Patent Combination Truss Frame.
> — • — *-
EVERY PIANO SOLD BI US IS FULLY WARRANTED.
h
L
CHICKERING & SONS,
11 East Fourteenth St., 354 Washington Street,
NEW YORK. BOSTON.
i
?-
•H
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11