100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (3 page)

One can only speculate on the reason for this neglect. My speculation is that Meyerbeer was so much a man of the theater, so much a showman, that once the fashion for his elaborate spectacles had worn out, they seemed too tinselly and artificial for even the broad and tolerant tastes of opera lovers. His scores are full of fine, effective numbers; but they are spotty, calculated for stage effect; and one or two real gems, like
L’Africaine’s O paradis
, are not enough to make them viable as a whole. Perhaps at some future date they will seem old and interesting enough to warrant resuscitation in some form. The glories of Handel’s operatic scores are gradually being rediscovered through concert and phonograph performances, though his stage style is still too classically stiff to be successfully employed. Even Spontini is listened to with interest on phonograph records. Men who appealed strongly to their own age must have some vitality for ours, and I believe that Meyerbeer’s unquestionably great gifts will one day again be appreciated in some form or other.

ACT I

Shortly before a meeting of the Royal Council of Portugal at Lisbon, the daughter of one of the councilors, Inez, confides, in an aria, her hopes to her attendant, Anna, that the fleet of the explorer Bartolomeu Diaz may return soon in safety, for she is in love with Vasco da Gama, a young officer on this voyage.

Inez’s father, Don Diego, brings her her first bit of bad news: the King has decided that she is to marry Don Pedro, President of the Council, a man she thoroughly detests. Furthermore, Don Diego likes the match. The second bit of bad news comes from Don Pedro himself, who reports that the fleet of Diaz has been lost with virtually every member of the cruise. And the worst news of all comes when, in answer to the lady’s inquiry, he scans the list of missing officers and says that Da Gama is one of those who perished. A trio follows in which, on one side of the stage, Don Diego tries to comfort his sorrowing daughter while warning her not to arouse her new fiancé’s suspicions, while Don Pedro, on the other side of the stage, gives voice to those very suspicions.

Now, in full panoply, the Council enters the chamber and, as a sort of opening ceremony, sings a vigorous male chorus in honor of the Grand Inquisitor, leader of conservative thought in Portugal. The first business of the Council is to decide whether, after the failure of the great Diaz expedition, any more should be undertaken. The Grand Inquisitor is scornfully opposed to any further such waste of money and effort; Don Pedro, claiming the King’s backing, argues for an effort to find the remains of the Diaz company; and Don Alvar, one of the younger councilors, creates a sensation by reporting that a member of that company waits without.

This survivor turns out to be the intrepid young Vasco da Gama, who demands that he be allowed to lead an expedition for the honor of Portugal. The argument continues, with the negative approach of the Grand Inquisitor about to get the upper hand when Vasco plays his trump cards. These are introduced in the shape of two very dark and dignified handsome young foreigners, Selika and Nelusko. Actually, despite the title of the opera, Selika is an Indian queen, Nelusko a member of her court who is in love with her. They have been taken as captive slaves in the neighborhood of the Cape of Storms, but beyond this bit of information Selika will vouchsafe nothing. Yet her glances at Vasco, and Nelusko’s rage when he notices them, inform the audience clearly enough who is in love with whom. Meantime, Vasco makes the telling
point that these captives prove the fact that there is a land beyond Africa, and that it is worth an expedition.

The Council continues its angry deliberations, quiets down with a prayer for divine guidance, and finally comes to the conclusion, as announced by the Grand Inquisitor, that Vasco is mad, and his request is turned down. Vasco’s angry answer is that Columbus was also considered mad, and the argument waxes furious all over again. Finally the Grand Inquisitor can take no more. In the name of the Pope, he sends Vasco to prison. The two Indians are taken along with him.

ACT II

In the Inquisition prison to which Vasco and his two Indian slaves have been consigned he lies asleep, while Selika sings a lovely aria that begins as a lullaby but develops into a passionate avowal of love before it ends (
Sur mes genons
—“On my knees”). Nelusko slinks in at the end of the aria and attempts to murder the sleeping man, only to have Selika hold back his dagger hand. She points out that Vasco had saved their lives by buying them in the slave market, and that, furthermore, a man of such a proud race as Nelusko’s should never stoop to murdering a defenseless sleeper. In an aria of considerable power
(Fille des rois
—“Daughter of kings”) he acknowledges his loyalty, but his hatred of Christians and his love for Selika overpower him. It becomes necessary, then, for Selika to save Vasco’s life from a second attack, waking him up.

A lesson in geography follows. There is a large map conveniently located on the wall of the cell, and as Vasco tries to trace a route to India upon it, Selika shows him the proper way to get there. So delighted is Vasco with this information (it was just what he suspected all along, he says), that he embraces the Indian girl, inspiring in her great satisfaction, not unmixed with fear.

At this moment they are interrupted by four visitors—Don Pedro, Don Alvar, Inez, and Anna—and the stage is set for a long, effective, and partially unaccompanied septet. What transpires from the singers is that Inez has purchased Vasco’s
freedom through marrying Don Pedro, that Pedro has received permission to lead the expedition which Vasco had hoped to undertake, that Selika and Nelusko will be taken on the expedition along with Inez, and that everyone excepting Don Pedro couldn’t be unhappier about the way things have turned out

ACT III

An unusually elaborate set is called for in this act, which takes place aboard the flagship of Don Pedro’s flotilla in search of an Eastern passage to India. On top, where almost all the action takes place, is the main deck; below is shown a cross-section of the ship, with the cabins of the various passengers.

Early in the morning of a fine day in mid-ocean Inez is lolling on a couch, sunning herself, as Selika and the rest of her female attendants entertain her with a chorus about their swift and easy-sailing vessel. Don Pedro makes some fatuous comments on his own talents as a navigator; the male chorus of sailors obliges with a chanty; and all the vocal and orchestral forces join in a fine prayer to St. Dominic, patron saint of sailors.

Nelusko has been taken along on this trip in the role of pilot: it was he who stole Vasco da Gama’s maps and presented them to Don Pedro. Don Alvar warns Pedro that the Indian is apparently not to be trusted, reminding him that two ships have already been lost; but the blustering captain insists on permitting Nelusko to change the course. It was Adamastor, the god of storms, who destroyed those two ships, explains the Indian, and he describes the doings of this dread deity in a ballad sung for the benefit of the crew (
Adamastor, roi des vagues profondes–
“Adamastor, king of the depthless waves”).

As a matter of fact, Nelusko is steering a course directly for the reefs that had destroyed the ships of Diaz, and he fears that his plans may be upset when a ship bearing the Portuguese flag is sighted and a boat is sent with a messenger. This messenger turns out to be Vasco himself with precisely
the warning that Nelusko had feared. Furthermore, he warns Don Pedro, once the vessel has been beached, a horde of savages is waiting to complete the disaster for the Portuguese. Pedro, however, suspects that Vasco’s motives may have something to do with the presence of Inez aboard the ship; and when Vasco admits it, he is ordered to be bound to a mast at once and shot.

Inez and Selika, hearing the noise above, rush from their cabins and beg for the life of the man they love, Selika even threatening Pedro with a dagger. In a passage that is customarily cut in performance, Pedro then orders the Indian girl bound to the mast and flogged, a fascinating bit of stage business that is interrupted with warnings of an approaching storm. Before Pedro can get his rival executed, the winds blow the ship on the reef and, almost at once, Indian warriors board her and begin to butcher the men as the women engage in futile prayer. With the male chorus of Indians singing a triumphant chorus in praise of Brahma, the action-packed scene comes to an end.

ACT IV

Before a Hindu temple in Hindustan, a procession of the priests of Brahma passes, a ballet is danced, and Selika, the Queen, is welcomed home. Instructed by the High Priest, she swears to uphold the local laws and allow no foreigner on the sacred Hindustani soil. But off-stage the Portuguese women are being tortured, and Selika wonders fearfully over the fate of Vasco.

Nelusko does not add to his beloved Queen’s cheer by telling her that all the Portuguese men have been slain; but a moment later news comes that there is one who has survived, and Nelusko, fearing it may be Vasco, orders him executed forthwith. With practically everyone else in the temple, Vasco is led in by the soldiers but seems to be quite unaware of his sentence. Instead, he is rapturously impressed with the beauty of the land he now sees, and he sings by far the most familiar number in the opera, the tenor aria
O paradis
. It is
not merely the nature-lover in him that draws forth this eloquent melody: Vasco dreams of the glory that will be Portugal’s when she has gained this earthly paradise—and he shall be the donor.

Even when the soldiers terminate his reverie with the unwelcome information that he is to die, he demands instead that he be given a ship-or at least a messenger—to tell Portugal the great news. The soldiers raise their weapons threateningly, and at that point the services in the temple are over. As Selika emerges, he calls her by name; and when Nelusko, the High Priest, and the others demand his immediate execution, she declares that Vasco is her husband, and that he saved her at a slave market and gave her her freedom. Nelusko, of course, knows that this story is partly untrue; but in an aside she tells him that unless he vouches for the marriage, she shall die along with her beloved Portuguese officer. In a stormy aria, with choral background, Nelusko expresses his despair
(L’avoir tant adorée
—“To have adored her so much”), but he finally swears the great falsehood on the holy Brahman Golden Book. As this marriage must be duly solemnized, the priests now return to the temple to prepare for it and leave their Queen alone with the man who is to be their King.

Selika tells Vasco of the sentence of death that has been passed on Inez and the other women, and she fears now that he will leave her, as he is free to do. Vasco, however, appears to be almost in a trance, and as he returns to his senses, he falls in love with Selika. After a passionate love duet, the High Priest and others return and invoke the blessings of the gods on the happy couple. But heard off-stage, during the chorus of rejoicing, are the sad voices of Inez and the other doomed women intoning a mournful farewell to the beautiful Tagus River of Portugal. As Vasco hears the voice of Inez singing the melody of her first-act aria, he attempts to rush off to her, but he is pushed toward the temple and his Indian queen by all the singers and the dancers.

ACT V

Scene 1
(which is often omitted) is devoted chiefly to a duet, in Selika’s garden, between her and Inez. Although she had originally planned to have Inez slain, Selika gradually realizes that their loves for Vasco are equally great and that he prefers his countrywoman. Thereupon Selika calls Nelusko and the soldiers, orders that Vasco and Inez be put on a ship bound for Portugal, and tells Nelusko to meet her at the end of a certain promontory to watch the departing sails.

Scene 2
On that promontory Selika addresses first the sea, which is no deeper than her misery, and then the manchineel tree, whose poison is to bring her misery to an end. She gathers up a few blossoms, inhales the deadly perfume, and in a trance imagines herself once more in Vasco’s arms. Nelusko, arriving too late, sees what has happened, seizes some of the poisonous blossoms for himself, and dies contentedly in the arms of the woman he loved. Off-stage a chorus intones the beauties of love in the afterlife.

Postscript for the historically curious:
As all books on explorers tell us, Vasco da Gama was the leader of the first Portuguese expedition to reach India by sea. That was in 1498, and he had the assistance of an Indian pilot. Subsequently a second expedition under one Don Pedro Cabral (who accidentally discovered Brazil on the way) made the same trip, and left some Portuguese there to establish a factory. They were all massacred by the Indians. In 1502, Vasco returned to the scene, took a fearful revenge, returned home, and married a girl named not Inez but Catarina.

But it would be as unkind as it is unnecessary to criticize the talented librettist Scribe for his cavalier way with history. He gave Meyerbeer the original libretto in 1838, when it did deal with an African and not an Indian girl. Three years later Meyerbeer had composed the score and found himself dissatisfied with both his own work and Scribe’s. After considerable bickering Scribe revised everything, and only now was Vasco da Gama introduced as a character. Meyerbeer thereupon
took another eight years revising both score and libretto, and still another four making changes in detail. Finally, on May 1, 1864, the last copying and changes were completed, and the next day the composer died. This was still not the end of the changes, for scenes and orchestration were further amended by friends of Meyerbeer before the first production. No one, however, seems to have thought of correcting the name of the opera.

AÏDA

Opera in four acts by Giuseppe Verdi with libretto
in Italian by Antonio Ghislanzoni, based
on a French prose version by Camille du Locle,
based, in turn, on a plot by François Auguste
Ferdinand Mariette, with the composer lending
a considerable hand in both the prose and
the versified versions