100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (45 page)

ACT II

Scene 1
takes place in the castle of the Baron Rosenberg. The boudoir of the Baroness has been turned over to the actress, Philine, for the occasion. There is to be a performance of A
Midsummer Night’s Dream
that evening, and Philine is making herself up as her fellow-actor Laerte makes jokes with her. Mignon, now dressed as a page for Wilhelm Meister, is teased by Philine. Wilhelm defends the little girl again; but it is obvious that he is falling madly in love with Philine, and poor little Mignon is desperately jealous. When she is left alone, she starts to dress herself in some of Philine’s finery, and as she does so, she sings a charming little air, a
Styrienne
. But she is interrupted when the Baron’s nephew, Fred Rosenberg, quarrels with Wilhelm over Philine. And when Mignon interferes, Frédéric goes off laughing.

Now Wilhelm, seeing Mignon dressed like a woman, believes he can no longer keep her in his service. He sings her a sad aria of farewell
(Adieu, Mignon, ne pleurez pas)
. He does not realize how deeply she loves him. Condescendingly he tells her that at her age she will soon forget. But before she leaves, Philine taunts her once more; and now Wilhelm, seeing that Mignon is genuinely jealous, begins to have his eyes open. But it is time to get ready for the play. Laerte summons Philine for the show, and they all go out as the orchestra murmurs the tune of the
Gavotte
. All, that is, but Mignon. She has one last line:
“That Philine: I hate her!”

Scene 2
takes place outside the castle and by a lake. Poor Mignon has not been invited to the performance of A
Midsummer Night’s Dream
, and she thinks of how her beloved Wilhelm seems to have fallen in love with the coquettish actress Philine. She sings her sad aria
Elle est aimée
and then is joined by her old and harmlessly crazy protector, Lothario. He, too, is suffering; and they tell us all about it in the duet
As-tu souffert?
Meantime, applause is heard from within the
castle, and Mignon carelessly utters the wish that the place would burn down.

But now the performance is over. Philine has had a triumph, and to everyone’s approval she sings
Je suis Titania
. It is one of the gayest—and most popular—showpieces in the repertoire of any coloratura soprano.

Unfortunately, Philine orders Mignon to go back to the castle to fetch a bouquet she had left. It happens to be a bouquet Mignon had picked for Wilhelm, who had lightheartedly handed it over to Philine; but, to be entirely fair, Philine did not know its origin when she sent Mignon to fetch it. Before the young girl can come back, the castle bursts into flames. Who had set fire to it? The half-demented Lothario, of course. The heroic young Wilhelm dashes back into the castle, rescues little Mignon, and comes back carrying her in his arms. In her hands are Philine’s withered flowers.

ACT II

The last act transports us from Germany to Italy. It begins with the familiar sound of Lothario’s harp as he sings a sweet lullaby for Mignon. He has brought her to this country she once knew—the country she sang of so sweetly in the aria
Connais-tu le pays
. Wilhelm is there too. He now knows that Mignon loves him, and he has decided he loves her, too. But it appears to be too late. Mignon, after her dreadful experiences, has not yet recovered her mind, and Wilhelm sings the aria
C’est en vain que j’attends
—“I wait in vain.” And when a pale, suffering Mignon appears, he tries to tell her he loves her, but she cannot believe him. Off-stage, comes the voice of Philine, singing
Je suis Titania
, and her presence is proof enough for poor little Mignon.

But now—wonder of wonders—the crazy old Lothario appears dressed like a noble lord. It turns out that he was a wealthy nobleman all the time, that he had temporarily lost his mind, and that Mignon is his own daughter. Naturally, everyone, including even Mignon, finds this a little difficult to believe. But Lothario shows her a child’s scarf she once
owned, a coral bracelet, a prayerbook. He utters her old name, Sperata—and finally he shows her a portrait of her mother. Now everything comes back to the girl’s shaken mind. It is almost too much joy for her to bear. But Wilhelm takes her in his arms; she recovers quickly; and the opera closes with a trio of rejoicing.

NORMA

Opera in four acts (originally in two, but divided
into four scenes) by Vincenzo Bellini
with libretto in Italian by Felice Romani,
based on a French play of the same name by
Louis Alexandre Soumet

Time: about
50
B.C
.

Place: Gaul

First performance at Milan, December 26, 1831

    Like the rest of the world, Bellini himself regarded
Norma
as his masterpiece. If on a shipwrecked boat, he once said, he had only one of his operas to rescue, that one would be
Norma
.

And though today it strikes most of us as a vehicle for a great soprano, with some very wonderful arias and concerted numbers but with the most unrealistic and formalized plot, it was not always so. “This opera among all the creations of Bellini,” wrote one nineteenth-century critic, “is the one which, with the most profound reality, joins to the richest vein of melody the most intimate passion.” The critic was Richard Wagner.

Whatever one may think of the way the composer took dramatic
advantage of the genuinely dramatic situations offered him by the librettist, his score has always presented a worthy challenge to the greatest singers for more than a century and a quarter. The first Norma was Giuditta Pasta, who saved the first performances in both Milan and London through her magnificent performance. It later became one of her best-loved roles; and when she was too old to sing it, the most-admired Norma became Giulia Grisi, who had sung the role of Adalgisa at the premiere. María Malibran also liked to star in the role—so much so that the memorial statue erected to her by her husband at Laeken presents her in the costume of Norma. Jenny Lind often attempted the role, though one would hardly think that the Swedish nightingale’s generally placid stage temperament would suit the passionate Druid priestess; and Lilli Lehmann sang it often but had so much respect for its difficulties that she said it took more out of her than singing all three of the
Ring’s
Brünnhildes.

In more recent times revivals of the opera have been especially staged for such outstanding sopranos as Rosa Raisa, Rosa Ponselle, and Zinka Milanov. And in 1956, after years of dickering with Maria Meneghini Callas, the Metropolitan finally secured her signature to a contract to open as Norma. She had a triumph.

OVERTURE

The overture used to occupy a fairly prominent place in the standard repertoire of popular concerts. As the opera deals in conflicts between martial and amatory sentiments, the music of the overture presents a similar contrast, and it also makes use of the opening chorus of the Druid priests.

ACT I

The story takes us back to approximately 50
B.C
., when, as you may recall from your high-school Caesar, the Roman legions were busy occupying Gaul. It is nighttime, and the Druids, to martial music, gather in their sacred forest, before
the sacred tree of their god, Irminsul. They are led by their high priest, Oroveso, who expects them to rise against the Romans. He tells them that Norma, the High Priestess and his own daughter, will, at the right moment, perform the rite of cutting the sacred mistletoe, and this shall be the signal for the rising.

When the Druids have departed, the Roman proconsul, Pollione, enters with his friend, the centurion Flavio. From their conversation we learn that Pollione is, secretly, the father of Norma’s two children, but he is now in love with the vestal virgin Adalgisa. In the aria
Meco all’altar di Venere
he relates how his dream of being with Adalgisa in Rome bothers his conscience. At its close we hear the sacred bronze shield sounding to summon the Druids once more, and the two Romans depart.

The familiar
March
from
Norma
is now played, as the Druids gather once more to listen to their priestess. In a noble recitative, Norma tells them that the time to rise has not yet come, for Rome is to be defeated by its own vices. Then follows the famous aria
Casta Diva
, which Bellini is said to have rewritten eight times before he was satisfied with it. She begins by invoking the moon and calling for peace. Then, as the chorus cries out against the Romans, she sings—for herself alone—of the love she bears the Roman proconsul, Pollione.

When the priests have again departed, Adalgisa, Pollione’s new love, is left alone, and she prays for help from the gods. There Pollione finds her; and in the eloquent duet that closes the act (
Va, crudele
) he persuades her to follow him to Rome.

ACT II

Norma has raised the Roman Pollione’s two children in a secret home with the aid of her confidante, Clotilda. As the second act opens, she tells Clotilda that she both loves and hates these children, for she fears that Pollione will leave for Rome and desert her. Now the young priestess, Adalgisa, sworn to chastity, enters. She confides in Norma, saying that she is in love. Norma, commiserating, promises to release her
from her vows, but Adalgisa mentions that her lover is about to depart for Rome. At once Norma is suspicious. Who can this lover be? “There he is,” says Adalgisa as Pollione enters. An exciting trio develops, as Norma curses Pollione for his faithlessness, Pollione, conscience-stricken, begs Norma not to reproach him before Adalgisa, and Adalgisa herself is filled with remorse. The sacred bronze shield is heard once more, as it is struck to summon Norma to her priestly duties, and the act closes.

ACT III

It is nighttime in Norma’s secret home, and after a prelude she enters carrying a lamp in one hand and a dagger in the other. To revenge herself on the faithless Pollione, the High Priestess has decided to murder their two children as they sleep. But as she bends over them, she cannot bring herself to do the horrid deed, for they are not only Pollione’s children, they are her own as well. Quickly she sends Clotilda for Adalgisa. Norma has decided to die, and she commands Adalgisa to marry Pollione and take the children with her. Moved by Normals nobility, Adalgisa refuses. In the great duet
Mira, O Norma
, she begs for pity on the two children, and she offers to bring Pollione back to Norma. The act closes as the two priestesses embrace.

ACT IV

The last, dramatic act takes place, like the first, in the sacred forest of the Druids, before the altar of the great god Irminsul. The assembled warriors of Gaul cry for war against the Romans. Oroveso, the High Priest and father of Norma, alone advises patience. They leave; and then, at the altar itself, Norma awaits Pollione’s return. But her confidante, Clotilda, brings news that Adalgisa has failed—that Pollione refuses to return to Norma. In great anger Norma now summons the priests and soldiers by striking the sacred shield. She calls for war—
Guerra, guerra!
—and for blood—
Sangue, sangue!

At this point Clotilda reports that a Roman has been found in the cloister of the Druid virgins. Pollione turns out to be the transgressor, and the Gauls demand his death. But Norma desires first to question him alone. She offers her former lover either death or his life—if he will leave Gaul without Adalgisa. Pollione scorns this offer: he is not afraid to die. But when Norma threatens to take the life of Adalgisa as well, he attempts to seize her sword. Norma thereupon summons the soldiers and priests once more. She tells them that a priestess has violated her vows, and that she must be burned to death. Pollione, believing her to be about to name Adalgisa as the erring priestess, tries to stop her. But with a great gesture Norma announces that she herself is the offending priestess, and that she must die—and she commends the care of her children to her father, Oroveso.

Only then does Pollione understand the greatness of the woman’s spirit, and he says that he will die with her. The funeral pyre is prepared, and—united again—the lovers, Norma and Pollione, mount to their death.

    
Postscript for the historically curious:
“About 50
B.C
.” a distinguished Roman politician and poet, still in his twenties, was appointed by Mark Antony as proconsul for a portion of Gaul. The young man’s name was Gaius Asinius Pollio (“Pollione” in French); he survived his term of office among the Druids; he became a consul of Rome ten years later; and he died peacefully in his Italian villa at the age of eighty-one, full of honors, mostly literary.

OBERON

Opera in three acts by Carl Maria von Weber
with libretto in English by James Robinson
Planché based on a medieval French tale entitled
Huon de Bordeaux