100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (71 page)

It was from this point on that Alfano had to complete the work of Puccini.

The Unknown Prince upbraids Turandot, and then suddenly
takes her in his arms. The ice of which Liù had sung is melted; Turandot weeps; and she begs Calaf to leave her, his secret unrevealed. But he knows now that she loves him, and, venturing all, he tells her his name and, so doing, offers her his life.

Once more the scene is swiftly changed to the court as trumpets sound. Turandot speaks before them all. She has learned the stranger’s name, she says, and it is Love.

WILLIAM TELL

(Guillaume Tell)

Opera in four acts
^*
by Gioacchino Antonio Rossini
with libretto in French by Victor Joseph
Étienne de Jouy and Hippolyte Louis Florent
Bis (with considerable help from the composer
and Armand Marrast), based on the play of
the same name by Johann Christoph Friedrich
von Schiller

Time: 14th century

Place: Switzerland

First performance at Paris, August 3, 1829

    
William Tell
was Rossini’s longest opera—and his last. Maybe it was the writing of so long a work (its original performance took over six hours) that discouraged him from writing more. At any rate, though
William Tell
was a great
critical success, he did not write another opera although he lived almost forty years more, Rossini himself authorized a version that was cut from five to three acts, and for a while it was even customary, in Paris, to give Act II alone, with another opera to fill out the bill. The story goes that one time the director of the Opéra told the composer that Act II of
William Tell
was on the bill for that night. “What?” exclaimed the bitter Rossini.
“All
of it?”

For many years it was customary to say that
The Barber of Seville
and
William Tell
were the only Rossini operas which had survived the composer many years in the repertoires of the great opera houses. Whether because of its length or because of the extremely demanding tenor role of Arnold,
Tell
can no longer be called “standard” repertoire, while other Rossini operas, like
La cenerentola
and
The Italian in Algiers
, are being revived with greater frequency. The fact is that
The Barber
has by far the best libretto of the lot The
William Tell
story is serviceable enough, but little better than that.

In several countries, during the politically sensitive 1830’s, it was regarded as dangerously revolutionary. Accordingly, the libretto was revised, and in Milan the opera was called
Guglielmo Vallace
(that is, the Scottish William Wallace), in Rome
Rodolfo di Sterlinga
, in London and Berlin
Andreas Hofer
, and in St. Petersburg
Karl Smily
(Charles the Bold). It seems odd that the censors should have been more frightened of the name of an almost completely mythical revolutionary than of some real ones. But many things that censors do seem odd.

OVERTURE

The overture to
William Tell
is the best-known piece of orchestral music ever to come out of an opera, rivaled, perhaps, only by the
Intermezzo
from
Cavalleria rusticana
. It has survived in the affections of the public—and perhaps even grown in those affections—the satirical use of it in Disney’s animated cartoons and as the theme of the Lone Ranger. It begins, boldly, with a quintet for five solo cellos; a soft roll
on the kettledrums introduces one of Rossini’s pet storms, including realistic raindrops spattered from the piccolo; then comes a pastoral section based on a Swiss alphorn melody played on the French horn; and eventually, after a brilliant fanfare of trumpets, comes the familiar
galop
, which retains its excitement when well played despite the many humorous associations, polite and impolite, that have been attached to it.

ACT I

The story concerns the legendary activities of a legendary fourteenth-century Swiss patriot. The country is under the heel of the Austrian Governor, Gessler, who has shown himself to be a tyrant. High up in the Alps, in Tell’s native village, the Swiss are celebrating a traditional festival. The old shepherd Melcthal is to give his blessing to three couples who wish to be married. Two serious voices are slightly out of tune with the happy occasion. One is that of Tell, who bemoans the fate of his country, the other that of Arnold, son of Melcthal, who is involved in a dangerous love affair.

There is a long duet in which Tell urges Arnold to fight for his country, but Arnold at first hesitates as his beloved is Mathilde, daughter of Gessler. Occasionally there is heard the sound of hunting horns—an indication that Gessler’s men are in the neighborhood, hunting.

Now the festivities are resumed. There is first a ballet, and in the ensuing games Tell’s young son Jemmy distinguishes himself by being a good shot, just as his father is. The celebration is interrupted by Leuthold, a Swiss fugitive from Gessler’s men, running in. Tell saves him by spiriting him away on a boat despite great danger on the lake.

When Gessler’s men, headed by Rudolph, arrive, no one will tell them who aided in the escape, and in revenge they seize upon old Melcthal and drag him off.

ACT II

The second act begins with a recitative and the brilliant
coloratura aria
Sombre forêt
sung by Mathilde, daughter of the Austrian tyrant Gessler, in which she admits her love for Arnold. He meets her in the Alpine clearing in a forest where she waits, and a fine love duet ensues. Mathilde leaves hastily when she hears the approach of William Tell and Walter Fürst. These men have come to persuade Arnold to join than in an uprising against Gessler, but they are suspicious of him because of his meeting with Mathilde. Presently, however, they give him some bad news: Gessler has had Arnold’s old father, the shepherd Melcthal, executed. Now there is no longer any hesitation on Arnold’s part, and at the close of the fine trio the three men swear to deliver their country from its oppression.

One by one, trusted groups of men arrive from the Swiss cantons of Unterwaiden, Schwitz, and Uri. Tell delivers a dramatic address, and a solemn patriotic oath is taken by all present as the act ends.

ACT III

In the market place of the village of Altdorf, the tyrant Gessler has put up the Austrian coat-of-arms and his own hat for every Swiss to bow before. William Tell refuses to bow, and he and his son are at once arrested. Gessler says that Tell must demonstrate his vaunted skill with bow and arrow by shooting an apple off his son’s head, and when Tell refuses, Gessler orders the boy to be executed. Now Tell has no choice. The boy. Jemmy, fearlessly expresses complete confidence in Tell’s skill, and cheers go up as the arrow splits the apple in two.

But a second arrow falls from Tell’s coat; and when Gessler demands to know what that is for, the patriot tells him it would have been for Gessler’s own heart if the boy had been hurt. Greatly incensed, Gessler orders the arrest of Tell, but before our hero is dragged off, he manages to send his wife a message through his son. Tell Hedwige, says William, that the lighting of mountain beacons will be the signal for the uprising
of the cantons. Gessler’s own daughter, Mathilde, flees from the spot with little Jemmy, to deliver the message.

ACT IV

Scene 1
is largely taken up by an aria sung by Arnold. He has returned home, and his father’s death at the hands of Gessler continues to haunt him. A group of Swiss patriots reports to him the arrest of William Tell, and, finally roused to action, he leads the men off to rescue their leader.

Scene 2
takes place on a rocky spot off the Lake of the Four Cantons and near Tell’s own home. Jemmy, accompanied by Mathilde, rushes in to his mother, Hedwige. The little boy is hopeful that Tell will escape despite the storm that is brewing, when suddenly he remembers his father’s message. He himself sets fire to his father’s house as a signal for the cantons to rise. As the storm develops, they all pray for Tell’s deliverance, and suddenly the hero appears, jumping from a boat. Close behind him come his pursuers, including Gessler. But Tell seizes his bow and arrow from Jemmy, who has rescued them from the burning house. Tell takes careful aim and, with a cry, Gessler tumbles headlong into the lake. At that moment a party of Swiss patriots, led by young Arnold, comes in to announce the taking of Gessler’s headquarters in Altdorf. The opera closes with rejoicing on the part of every surviving Swiss member of the dramatis personae.

^*
Originally in five acts, later reduced to three by omission of the third and condensation of the last two acts. Current practice is to restore Act III and retain the condensation, thus making four acts.

WOZZECK

Opera in three acts by Alban Berg with libretto
in German by the composer, based on a play of
the same name by Georg Büchner

Time: about 1835

Place: Germany

First performance at Berlin, December 14, 1925

    Alban Berg, the most distinguished disciple of Arnold Schönberg, died at the age of fifty in his native Vienna. The date was 1935. Usually I have not included such vital statistics about composers in my introductory comments, but this time I think they are important. For—to me, at least—Berg and his operas
Wozzeck
and
Lulu
epitomize one aspect of a certain time and place.
Wozzeck
was conceived during World War I; its composition was completed immediately after that war; and it received its first stage performance, in Berlin, in 1925. It deeply stirred all of Middle Europe of that period. And that period was the period of Dr. Sigmund Freud, the
period of Franz Kafka, the period of the rise of National Socialism. In music it was the period that saw the most violent breakdown of old ideas of melody—and, even more, of harmony. It was revolutionary, it was intellectually curious, it was unstable, and it reflected the sickness of the German soul.

Berg wrote his own libretto for
Wozzeck
, basing it on a hundred-year-old play written by a strange, youthful genius named Georg Büchner. It deals with the psychological torture and breakdown of a dull-witted militiaman named Johann Franz Wozzeck and with the tragic fate of his mistress and their illegitimate child. Charming theme, isn’t it? And, possibly excepting these three unfortunates, there is scarcely one amiable person in the whole cast. Nevertheless, its entry into the Metropolitan Opera repertory in 1959 was a surprise popular success.

ACT I

Scene 1
finds Wozzeck shaving his captain, for whom he is a personal servant, while the captain philosophizes in a mildly idiotic way. (The part is written for a very high tenor voice.) Wozzeck answers at first stupidly, mechanically
Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann
—“Certainly, Captain,”—but finally he comes out with an incoherent complaint about his poverty.

Scene 2
Wozzeck shares this scene with another high tenor—his companion-in-arms, Andres. Andres is inclined to be cheerful, but Wozzeck imagines he sees various supernatural things in the field where they are working.

Scene 3
In her room Marie, Wozzeck’s mistress, is playing with their child. She sees a parade of soldiers passing and admires the Drum Major; she is jeered at by a neighbor, Margret, for her easy virtue; she sings a lullaby to the child. When Wozzeck passes by, he frightens her with an account of the supernatural things he thinks he has seen. Something dreadful, he feels, is going to happen.

Scene 4
Next day, in the regimental doctor’s office, Wozzeck is being examined. The Doctor is a kind of amateur psychiatrist—not to say a bit of a sadist. This crazy, incompetent
man implants the idea in Wozzeck’s mind that he is bad, that he may be going crazy. As the scene ends, he boasts to himself that he will become famous through what he is doing to poor Wozzeck.