ragingly upon the denouement of the
book of Mr. Long or the play of Mr. Belasco which Puccini and his
librettists followed; but in view of the origin of the play a bit of
comparative criticism seems to be imperative. Loti's "Madame
Chrysantheme" was turned into an opera by Andre Messager. What the
opera was like I do not know. It came, it went, and left no sign; yet
it would seem to be easy to guess at the reason for its quick
evanishment. If it followed the French story, as no doubt it did, it
was too faithful to the actualities of Japanese life to awaken a throb
of emotion in the Occidental heart. Without such a throb a drama is
naught--a sounding brass and tinkling cymbal. The charm of Loti's book
lies in its marvellously beautiful portrayal of a country, a people,
and a characteristic incident in the social life of that people. Its
interest as a story, outside of the charm of its telling, is like that
excited by inspection of an exotic curio. In his dedication of the book
the author begged Mme. la Duchesse de Richelieu not to look for any
meaning in it, but to receive it in the same spirit in which she would
receive "some quaint bit of pottery, some grotesque carved ivory idol,
or some preposterous trifle brought back from the fatherland of all
preposterousness." It is a record of a bit of the wandering life of a
poet who makes himself a part of every scene into which fortune throws
him. He has spent a summer with a Japanese mousme, whom he had married
Japanese fashion, and when he has divorced her, also in Japanese
fashion, with regard for all the conventions, and sailed away from her
forever, he is more troubled by thoughts of possible contamination to
his own nature than because of any consequences to the woman. Before
the final farewell he had felt a touch of pity for the "poor little
gypsy," but when he mounted the stairs to her room for the last time he
heard her singing, and mingled with her voice was a strange metallic
sound, dzinn, dzinn! as of coins ringing on the floor. Is she amusing
herself with quoits, or the jeu du crapaud, or pitch and toss? He
creeps in, and there, dressed for the departure to her mother's,
sitting on the floor is Chrysantheme; and spread out around her all the
fine silver dollars he had given her according to agreement the night
before. "With the competent dexterity of an old money changer she
fingers them, turns them over, throws them on the floor, and armed with
a little mallet ad