100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (32 page)

Scene 2
In her own room, attended by her handmaidens, Cleopatra receives the horrid news of Pompey’s murder by her brother, Ptolemy. As she is his rival for the throne of Egypt, she decides to counter this possibly welcome act by trying her feminine wiles on Caesar. She prepares to meet him, ordering her friend Nirenus to accompany her; but just then Ptolemy enters to resume the argument—apparently an
old one—as to which of the two shall occupy the throne. She dismisses him with the epithet
effiminato amante
(effeminate lover) and departs herself after singing an aria in which she trusts sex to lead her to the throne.

Achillas finds Ptolemy still in the room, tells him of Caesar’s anger, and suggests that he himself be instructed to murder the man. All he asks for as a reward is Cornelia. Ptolemy considers this a splendid arrangement and sings an aria already gloating over the death of Caesar.

Scene 3
At the tomb of Pompey, Caesar (in a long recitative) solemnly pays his last respects to his late rival. Cleopatra, disguised as one of her own handmaidens named Lydia, approaches Caesar and asks for help against the tyrant Ptolemy, who, she says, has robbed her. Much impressed by the girl’s beauty—as Curio is, too—he raises the kneeling suppliant and promises to see that her fortune is restored. He sings an aria likening her to a meadow flower and departs on his mission.

Cleopatra and Nirenus are congratulating themselves on how well the strategy seems to be working, when Cornelia and Sextus come to the same spot. The widow takes a dagger from among the trophies of war that decorate the tomb, swearing vengeance on the murderer. But Sextus seizes the dagger, declaring that the vengeance should be his.

Cleopatra then closes the scene with a brilliant aria apostrophizing the star of her expected good fortune.

Scene 4
At a banquet in Ptolemy’s palace, he and Caesar exchange polite greetings barbed with threats. In an aria, sung as an aside, Caesar lets the audience know that he is on his guard.

Cornelia and Sextus then meet Ptolemy and Achillas, and when Sextus challenges Ptolemy to single combat, both the Romans are arrested, Sextus to be sent to prison, Cornelia to Ptolemy’s seraglio. There, he tells Achillas, she will be reserved especially for him.

The act ends with a sorrowful duet sung by mother and son.

ACT II

Scene 1
Music comes from the “Palace of the Goddess of Virtue,” which stands in a grove of cedars with Mount Parnassus in the background. Caesar, who is standing in the grove, is enchanted. He is even more enchanted when the palace opens up disclosing Virtue served by the nine muses, and Cleopatra sings a long love song. Nirenus, who has been standing by, sees that this aphrodisiacal show is having its effect on Caesar and offers to lead him to where Lydia lies.

Scene 2
In the garden of his harem Ptolemy, despite his promise to Achillas, tries to make improper advances to Cornelia. She repulses him and runs away, whereupon he sings an aria threatening to use force.

Sextus then occupies the stage long enough to sing a very striking aria in which a snakelike melody suggests the reptile that he likens to his revenge.

Scene 3
Caesar is proposing marriage to Cleopatra, still thinking her to be “Lydia,” when Curio rushes in to warn him that a mob outside is crying: “Death to Caesar!” Cleopatra, declaring that she will stay by him to the death, finally reveals her true identity, and goes forth to face down the mob.

Caesar:
Curio, these strange adventures paralyze my senses.

Curio:
I am stupefied.

After this noble repartee Cleopatra returns, having failed, and urges Caesar to run for his life. Caesar, after an aria declaring his determination to take vengeance, takes her advice. Left alone, she gives voice to one of the finest arias of any Handelian opera, a prayer to the gods for pity accompanied by a particularly eloquent figure in the violins.

ACT III

Scene 1
This is devoted primarily to another fine aria for Cleopatra. Caesar has been defeated; for all she knows, he is dead; and she weeps over her probable fate.

Scene 2
But Caesar has not been killed. He had jumped into the sea and dragged himself onto the beach. In an aria he asks the gods for pity on him. Sextus has not been hurt either; he comes to the beach, weapon in hand, still looking for Ptolemy. Achillas, however, has been badly wounded. He drags himself in wearily, followed by Nirenus (unwounded). Considerably cheered by this sight, Caesar takes Nirenus with him on a search for Cleopatra and Cornelia.

Scene 3
Cleopatra is still bewailing the fortunes of war and the way they have turned against her, when Caesar comes in, victorious, followed by soldiers.

Scene 4
At the port of Alexandria there is played a “victory symphony”; Caesar crowns Cleopatra as Queen of Egypt; they sing a love duet; and the chorus sings a paean to happiness.

LAKMÉ

Opera in three acts by Léo Delibes with libretto
in French by Edmond Gondinet and
Philippe Gille generally said to be based on
Pierre Loti’s
Le Mariage de Loti
but bearing
only a faint resemblance to that novel

Time: late 19th century

Place: India

First performance at Paris, April 14, 1883

    Few music-lovers today know much of Léo Delibes’s music outside of his two charming ballet scores,
Sylvia
and
Coppélia
, and, of course,
Lakmé—or
at least its
Bell Song
. Despite the color and good, old-fashioned drama of its setting, the opera is given today, outside of France, only as an occasional vehicle for a famous and pretty coloratura soprano. In France, however, it remains popular, having received some 1500 performances at the Opéra Comique in Paris, since its premiere in 1883. On that occasion a Brooklyn-born coloratura, Marie van Zandt, sang it with such success that the role, for some time, was identified with her. However, a list of those sopranos
who have essayed the role would include practically every great coloratura up to almost the present day, including Adelina Patti, Marcella Sembrich, Luisa Tetrazzini, Amelita Galli-Curci, and Lily Pons—not to mention quite a few who had no particular business trying.

ACT I

The story takes place in nineteenth-century India, whereas everyone knows—the British were riding high, wide, and handsome. When the opera opens, the priest Nilakantha is in his sacred garden exhorting his followers to await the day when the British shall be driven from the land. Off-stage, comes the voice of his daughter, Lakmé, and gradually her voice grows stronger, as she comes on stage and leads the men in their prayer to the god Siva.

When the prayer is over, everyone leaves the garden excepting Lakmé and her slave Mallika, who, together, oblige with a charming barcarolle in thirds. Because they are planning to bathe, Lakmé removes her jewels and places them on a bench before shoving off in a boat with Mallika.

Now there are visitors of another sort. They are two British officers—Gerald and Frederick—their friends from home, Ellen and Rose, and, as a chaperone, the young ladies’ governess, Mrs. Benson. All five break into the garden, even though they know they have no business there, to admire the beautiful white flowers. These flowers—naturalists call them
datura stramonium—are
poisonous, and on the warnings of Frederick the party does not touch them. We shall hear more of them in the last act.

Happening on Lakmé’s jewels, Gerald is so enchanted that he stays on to make a drawing of them when the others leave. Here he has his charming aria
Prendre le dessin d’un bijou
.

Naturally, as Gerald is the leading tenor, Lakmé returns and finds him there. And as Lakmé is the leading soprano, the two must fall in love at first sight. And as they fall in love at first sight, a love duet must be sung. But this love duet is a little different, for Lakmé keeps warning Gerald that if he is
found in the garden, he may very well be killed. At first Gerald cannot take this warning seriously. After all, he is an officer in the army of Queen Victoria. But finally Lakmé persuades him to leave, and it is only just in time. For Nilakantha returns with his followers and, outraged by the desecration of the holy garden, vows that the man who was there must die. The other Hindus take up the cry of vengeance.

ACT II

It is a feast day for the Hindus, and our various British friends are at the bustling bazaar to watch and be amused. Mrs. Benson has her watch stolen; Rose and Ellen are excited by all the activity; and the two officers are having their last good time, for tomorrow they are off to the wars. Gerald admits that he has seen the charming young priestess Lakmé, and the others are quite curious about her, in a superior British sort of way. There is also a fine ballet, danced by the natives.

Presently the vengeful priest Nilakantha enters, disguised as a beggar. He seems to have learned that Gerald was in the garden and that he has fallen in love with Lakmé. He demands that his daughter sing, and she obliges with the famous
Bell Song
. It is the legend of a Hindu maiden and how she attracted the great god Vishnu with her bells. Nilakantha hopes that Lakmé’s singing will attract Gerald so that he may murder him. As British soldiers march by, to drums and fifes, Nilakantha gathers his followers, and they hide to surprise Gerald.

Sure enough, Gerald appears; and in their second love duet Lakmé urges him to join her in a hidden spot where she may guard him. He, however, is all for Queen and duty, and he declines this tempting invitation. He might just as well have accepted it, for now the holiest of the processions arrives, carrying the image of the goddess Dourga, and singing to it. Under cover of the excitement created by the procession, Nilakantha sneaks in, stabs Gerald, and quietly makes off. Lakmé rushes over to the fallen English officer, sees that the
wound is not fatal, and joyfully plans to take him to her hidden grotto to recover.

ACT III

This grotto is a beautiful spot, full of lush flowers, and Gerald lies quietly on his sickbed as Lakmé nurses him and sings to him. When he awakes, he is enchanted with both his surroundings and his affectionate nurse and tells us so in most persuasive musical phrases.

Now, off-stage, there is a chorus of Indian lovers singing as they go to a secret spring whose waters will make them forever faithful. Lakmé, too, goes there, to get some of the magic water for her lover.

But while she is gone, Frederick comes in. He has been looking everywhere for his fellow-officer and is delighted to find him greatly improved. Their regiment, he says, is about to depart, and Gerald reacts as any British officer should: duty first. When Lakmé returns, she suspects that he will not remain faithful. In the distance there is the sound of marching soldiers, and Gerald refuses the magical drink. In despair Lakmé secretly takes some of the poisonous
datura
blossoms and eats them, just before Gerald decides to drink of the magic waters after all. But it is too late. The vengeful Nilakantha rushes in and is about to strike Gerald dead when Lakmé intervenes. If the gods must have a victim, she cries, let it be herself! Only now do they see that she is dying. Gerald is heartbroken, but Nilakantha closes the opera with the ecstatic thought that his daughter will forever live with Brahma.

LOHENGRIN

Opera in three acts by Richard Wagner with
libretto in German by the composer based
largely on a medieval poem, the
Wartburgkrieg

Time: 933

Place:
Antwerp

First performance at Weimar, August 28, 1850

    The history of
Lohengrin
furnishes an interesting footnote to the eternal argument over whether an opera should be given in its original language or in the language of the audience listening. Before the composer, who was also conductor at the Dresden Opera, could produce his new work, he had to flee from Germany on account of his revolutionary sentiments. That was in 1849, when revolution was rife in the land. His temporary home was Switzerland, where there was no chance to produce this opera, and so he turned, in hope, to France and England. But despite the fact that Wagner prided himself as much on his poetry as on his music, it never occurred to him to suggest that either of these countries should produce his operas in German. He wrote to his friend Eduard Devrient at this time: “My immediate object is to get my
latest opera
Lohengrin
translated into English and performed in London.” Nothing came of these efforts and, as a matter of fact, the first London performance of the opera, which took place over twenty years later, was in neither German nor English, but in Italian.