100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (26 page)

OVERTURE

The overture—perhaps Verdi’s very best overture—is thoroughly dramatic and makes use of parts of several arias from the later acts as well as an aggressive little tune sometimes called the “destiny” motive.

ACT I

The story begins in eighteenth-century Seville. Leonora di Vargas, the aristocratic heroine, is in love with one Don Alvaro, who is part Inca Indian. No one of that sort is, of course, considered worthy of marrying a Spanish noblewoman. The proud Marquis of Calatrava, Leonora’s father, bids her forget all about Alvaro, but it is this very night that Leonora has already planned to elope with her lover. When the Marquis has left, she confides in her maid, Curra. Her father’s kindness, she says, has almost made her give up her plan for elopement; and so, when Alvaro bursts in through the window, he at first thinks she no longer loves him. But in an impassioned duet they swear eternal faith, and they are about ready to fly when the Marquis re-enters, sword in hand. He believes the worst at once, but Alvaro swears that Leonora is innocent. He offers to die to prove it, and he throws away the pistol he has drawn. Unfortunately, as it falls to the ground, it goes off, and the Marquis is killed by the bullet. With his dying breath the old gentleman sets in motion “the force of destiny” by uttering a terrible curse on his daughter—and Alvaro leads his beloved away as the act closes.

ACT II

Scene 1
Much has happened between Acts I and II. Don Carlo, arrived home, has heard that his sister Leonora has fled with her lover, Don Alvaro, Alvaro having first murdered their father, the Marquis. Naturally, as a good eighteenth-century Spaniard of high birth, he has sworn to murder both his sister
and her lover. Meantime, the two lovers have become separated, and Leonora, disguised as a young man and guarded by a faithful old muleteer named Trabucco, is in flight.

The force of destiny is at work, as the act opens, for Leonora and her brother Carlo are lodged under the same roof—the inn at Hornachuelos. Fortunately, Carlo has not seen his sister, who does not join the merry crowd but hides from him. The Mayor of the town announces dinner, and this gives Carlo an opportunity to question Trabucco, with whom he gets nowhere.

Preziosilla, a gypsy fortuneteller, now whips up things with a martial tune, urging all the fellows to join up with the Italian Army to fight the Germans. No recruiting sergeant could have done better. Then she tells some fortunes—including Carlo’s, which is not very encouraging.

A group of pilgrims is heard passing outside, and a fine, impressive prayer is sung, in which Leonora’s soaring soprano is heard above the others. This over, Carlo again tries to question Trabucco, and again he is unsuccessful. And so, at the request of the Mayor, he tells his own story. His name, says Don Carlo, is Pereda, and he is an honor student at the university. And then he goes on to give a thinly disguised version of the murder of his father by his sister’s lover. It is a fine baritone aria with chorus, beginning
Son Pereda, son ricco d’onore
, and at its close the gypsy fortuneteller lets Carlo know she has seen through his disguise.

But now it is late. The Mayor tells everyone it is time for bed, and a good-night chorus ends the scene.

Scene 2
Leonora has been badly frightened by so nearly meeting her vengeful brother at the inn, and, still disguised as a young man, she has fled to the mountains nearby. Here she finds a church and convent, and she sinks before the cross outside to sing her touching prayer,
Madre, pietosa Vergine
. The gruff, half-comic Friar Melitone answers her knock but refuses her entry and calls up the head of the convent, Father Guardiano. In a long and eloquent duet, she identifies herself, finally securing his permission to lead the life of a complete hermit in a nearby cave. No human being may ever see
her again—which is precisely the fate that this tragic heroine believes she desires, now that she thinks she has lost her lover, Don Alvaro, forever.

The act ends in what is perhaps the most impressive ensemble in an opera especially rich in big concerted numbers
(La Vergine degli angeli
—“The Virgin of the angels”). Guardiano summons the entire convent; he tells them of Leonora’s determination; and he calls a solemn curse down on anyone who shall disturb her.

ACT III

Scene 1
The first two acts took place in Spain. The force of destiny now takes many of the principal characters to Italy, to Velletri, to be exact, not very far from Rome. The Italians are fighting invading Germans (a not infrequent occurrence in the history of Italy), and there are many Spaniards fighting on the Italian side. Among them are our friends Don Carlo and Don Alvaro. There is some gambling going on in the Italian camp when the act opens. In the pitiful and melodious aria
O tu che in seno agli angeli
(“Oh thou, among the angels”) Don Alvaro bemoans his fate and especially the loss of Donna Leonora, whom he imagines as an angel in heaven. The gamblers start quarreling, and Alvaro saves the life of another man from an attack by fellow-gamblers. This man turns out to be Don Carlo, who has sworn to slay Alvaro. But as they have never before met, and as both give false names, they do not recognize each other, and they swear eternal friendship.

Now, off-stage, a battle commences, and the excited comments tell us that the Germans are beaten off. But Don Alvaro, seriously wounded and believing himself near death, begs his friend, Don Carlo, to do him one last favor. He is to take a packet of letters from his trunk and, without reading a single one, burn them. This Don Carlo swears to do in
Solenne in quest’ora
(“Swear in this hour”), a duet made famous through a very old recording by Caruso and Scotti. Alvaro is now carried off by the surgeon for a quick operation,
and Carlo is left alone with Alvaro’s trunk. A passing reaction of Don Alvaro’s has made Carlo suspect his real identity, and he is tempted to examine those letters to confirm that suspicion. However, there is no need to break his oath, for he finds enough other evidence in that trunk to convince him that his new-found friend is in truth Don Alvaro—the slayer of his father and supposed betrayer of his sister.

Just then the surgeon returns to tell Carlo that Alvaro will live after all. In a great burst of excitement Carlo sings his revenge aria,
Egli è salvo!
(“He is to liver”). Now, he exults, he may carry out his revenge not only on Alvaro but on his sister Leonora as well!

Scene 2
takes us to the camp of the common soldiers. Here we meet some of our old friends from the previous act. Preziosilla plies her trade as a fortuneteller; Trabucco, the muleteer, has become a peddler, selling things like scissors, pins, and soap to the soldiers and camp followers; and Friar Melitone (who treated Leonora so shabbily at the convent) preaches a ridiculous sermon till the soldiers can’t stand any more of it and run him out of camp. It is a jolly scene, and it ends with one of the jolliest pieces Verdi ever composed. This is the
Rataplan
, in which Preziosilla, carrying a drum, urges the men on to deeds of derring-do. With practically only a drum for accompaniment, this number is a real technical challenge for the chorus of any opera company.

ACT IV

Scene 1
Although the last act is essentially both sad and dramatic, it begins with one of Verdi’s few genuinely comic scenes. Back in Spain in the courtyard of the convent near Hornachuelos, the crusty old Friar Melitone is dishing out soup to the beggars. He is so unpleasant about the business that they wish they might again see a certain “Father Raphael” handling the ladle. This so angers Melitone that he kicks over the caldron of soup, and the beggars depart.

The good old Abbot Guardiano reproves Melitone for his bad temper, and they briefly discuss the character of Father
Raphael. He, of course, is none other than Don Alvaro in disguise, and Melitone tells how he had driven the quiet man almost mad by referring to him as a wild Indian.

Now Don Carlo enters and asks for Father Raphael—the one with the dark skin. While Alvaro—as we may as well call him—is summoned, Carlo gloats over his prospective revenge. Alvaro, dressed as a monk, comes in, and a long duet follows. First Alvaro refuses to fight, for he is now a monk, and he has already slain one member of Carlo’s family, even though accidentally. Don Carlo, however, piles insult on insult; and when he finally attacks Alvaro’s proud race—the Incas—the monk seizes the second sword that Carlo has thoughtfully provided, and the two rush off to duel.

Scene 2
takes place outside the hut where Leonora has taken up her life as a hermit. She sings her great aria,
Pace, pace
, begging for the peace of the grave. But as she finishes the aria, a cry is heard off-stage. It is Don Carlo, mortally wounded in the duel. A moment later Alvaro rushes on to get help for Carlo. Thus, after many years, the lovers meet unexpectedly and tragically. Leonora goes to help the dying man, but Carlo, with his last strength, carries out his oath: he stabs his sister as she bends to help him.

And so, when the Abbot Guardiano comes to see what has happened, the opera closes in a moving trio, Alvaro cursing his fate, and Leonora assuring him of forgiveness in heaven.

FOUR SAINTS IN THREE ACTS

Opera in four acts by Virgil Thomson with libretto
in English by Gertrude Stein

Time: no particular time

Place: Spain, most likely

First performance at Hartford, February 8
, 1934
by the Society of Friends and Enemies of Modern Music

    The music of
Four Saints in Three Acts
is by a now reformed music critic, Virgil Thomson, and its libretto is by a never reformed modernist, the late Gertrude Stein. It was written over thirty years ago—in 1928—and it makes absolutely no sense. It isn’t supposed to, really. Mr. Thomson himself told us how best to understand the libretto when he said: “You know, Miss Stein’s words make perfectly good sense—if you take them one at a time.”

I cannot tell you the story of the opera, for there isn’t any. Miss Stein wrote the libretto and gave it to Mr. Thomson. He liked it so much that he set all of it to music—even the stage directions. Then when that was done, a friend of his named Maurice Grosser tried to give it a scenario, a shape of some sort. The result is that
Four Saints in Three Acts
has many more than four saints—and
one
more than three acts.

The opera is clearly about saints, and it probably takes place in Spain. Some of the saints are Spanish ones—for example, St. Teresa (there are two St. Teresas, a soprano and a contralto) and St. Ignatius Loyola. Other saints are ones no one ever heard of before—like St. Settlement and St. Plot. And there are two characters—named Commère and Compère—who are supposed to explain things, somewhat like a Greek chorus. Of course, they explain nothing.

Clearly—all this is something that could have been produced only in the mad 1920’s. As for the music—that reflects Mr. Thomson’s early life. He was brought up in Missouri, where he was a church organist, and much of the music reflects the tunes and harmonies of Southern Baptist hymns. It is all charming, innocent, and wilfully naïve.

The prelude—in heavy waltz time—has a chorus that begins with these words:

To
know to know to love her so
Four saints prepare for Saints
,
Four saints make it well fish
.

Act I, which follows immediately, is called “St. Teresa half indoors and half out of doors.” It seems to have to do with seven aspects of St. Teresa’s life, but it is inadvisable to try to follow them too carefully.

Act II is called “Might it be mountains if it were not Barcelona.” Toward its close, the two Sts. Teresa look through a telescope and see a heavenly mansion, and the chorus asks: “How many doors how many floors and how many windows are there in it?” The ladies do not answer.

Act III is called “St. Ignatius and one of two literally.” It contains the one famous aria in the opera. That occurs when St. Ignatius describes his vision of the Holy Ghost. It goes: “Pigeons on the grass alas, and a magpie in the sky.” And then the chorus sings, “Let Lucy Lily Lily Lucy Lucy let Lucy Lucy Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily,” etc. That’s genuine Gertrude Stein, and it is followed soon after by a charming dance in Spanish style, which is genuine Virgil Thomson.

Act IV is called “The sisters and saints reassembled and
re-enacting why they went away to stay.” It is quite short, and it closes with the only two lines I completely understand. Compère (one of the Greek-chorus characters) announces: “Last Act.” And the chorus answers loudly: “Which is a fact.”

DER FREISCHÜTZ

(The Free-Shooter)

Opera in three acts by Carl Maria von Weber
with libretto in German by Johann Friedrich
Kind based on a story by Johann August Apel