100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (41 page)

Time: 18th century

Place: Boston

First performance at Rome, February 17, 1859

Note—Sometimes the scene of the opera is shifted to Naples, sometimes to Stockholm; sometimes the names of the characters are changed accordingly, sometimes not. The music remains the same
.

    
A Masked Ball
is the only one of Verdi’s opera stories to take place in what is today the United States. Even so, it was transplanted only by accident—or rather, by censor. It is based on a play by the French dramatist Scribe, and its story originally had to do with the murder of King Gustavus III of Sweden. But in 1858, when the opera was about to be mounted, an attempt on the life of Napoleon III had just been made. The authorities in Naples were frightened: they
thought that an opera about a murdered king might give the Neapolitans some unhealthy inspiration. Therefore the story had to be changed. The censors (who are always very wise and subtle folk) agreed that no one could get excited if the murdered man were to be no king at all, but merely the Governor of colonial Boston. Perhaps they knew (though I doubt it) that colonial Boston had no governor, rather Massachusetts had one. Who cared, anyway? And so the opera came finally to be performed the following year, not at Naples after all, but in Rome. And sure enough—there was no riot at all, and not a single king was murdered because of this opera.

When the Metropolitan Opera revived it in the 1940’s and again in the 1950’s, they put the scene back into Sweden, where it originally belonged. But that made for certain absurdities too. For instance, they had to keep the names of the characters as the singers had learned them. And so the hero was still Riccardo—that is Richard, Earl of Warwick, who might have been a perfectly splendid Governor of Massachusetts, but certainly was never a King of Sweden. And the two villains, Sam and Tom, who are sometimes played as Negroes or as Indians, were suddenly transformed into Samuele and Tommaso, a couple of elegantly dressed Swedish noblemen!

Well, to avoid all this complicated nonsense, let us stick to the simpler nonsense of the story as it was first told on the stage of the Apollo Theater at Rome on the evening of February 17, 1859. It’s really quite a good operatic story.

ACT I

Scene 1
After a prelude, which includes some of the principal themes from the opera, the stage business begins with a chorus in praise of Riccardo, that is, the Governor of colonial Boston. His court is assembled, and the page boy, Oscar, announces the Governor’s entrance. Riccardo examines a number of state papers, among them a list of guests to be invited to a masked ball. He sees the name of Amelia on the list and rhapsodizes about her in the aria
La rivedro nell èstasi
. However melodious, this tune is an aside; that is, it is
heard by no one present except the audience in the auditorium. A good thing, too. For the beloved Amelia is the wife of Renato, and Renato is Riccardo’s secretary and closest confidant. Meantime, a group of conspirators in Riccardo’s court keeps muttering about their discontent.

Now Renato enters, and the rest of the court departs. The secretary warns his master about plots on his life that he has heard about, and in the aria
Alla vita che t’arride
tells him how valuable that life is. But Riccardo is not impressed with his danger at all, and a moment later some judges enter with an order for Riccardo to sign. It is to banish the soothsayer Ulrica. Oscar returns to plead on the old woman’s behalf—and to show off his virtuoso vocal technique in the aria
Volta la terrea
, for his part is assigned to a coloratura soprano.

The good-natured Riccardo sees a chance for fun in this. Despite Renato’s warnings, he invites the whole court to join him in a visit to the fortuneteller’s hut. For himself he plans to assume the disguise of a sailor. In the closing ensemble everyone is looking forward to this lark. Even the two conspirators, Samuele and Tommaso, see in it a good chance to help along their wicked designs.

Scene 2
takes us to the hut of Ulrica, the fortuneteller. Before a large crowd, she is mixing her witch’s brew, and she intones an incantation to the words
Re dell’ abisso affrettati
. A sailor named Silvano now has a question to ask her. Will he ever get the money or the promotion he thinks he deserves? Ulrica predicts that he will. And Riccardo (who has slipped in, in his disguise) secretly puts a promotion and some money into Silvano’s pocket. Naturally, everyone is surprised and delighted when Silvano, a moment later, finds them there.

Next, a messenger from Amelia comes to ask private audience with Ulrica, and when everyone has left (excepting Riccardo, who hides himself in the hut), the lady enters. She tells of her love for Riccardo and asks how she may forget him. Ulrica says there is but one way: she must gather, this very night, some herbs that grow beneath the gallows outside the city gates. Furthermore, she must go unattended. But in the
trio that follows this advice, Riccardo lets the audience know that Amelia shall not be unguarded.

Now all the rest of the crowd returns, including the courtiers. Riccardo (still disguised as a sailor) sings a delightful barcarole (
Di’ tu se fidele)
and demands to know his future. Ulrica recognizes his hand as belonging to a nobleman and a warrior, but her prediction is a very sour one: Riccardo is to be murdered! And by whom? By the next man to shake his hand. Riccardo takes this as a huge joke and, laughingly, he demands that someone shake his hand at once. Everyone refuses; but just then, enter Renato, his friend and the husband of Amelia. He has come to protect his beloved master, and, all unwittingly, he takes his hand in his. Now Riccardo reveals his true identity to the witch. He also tells her that her prophecies are patently nonsensical, and therefore she may safely remain in the country. The act ends with another chorus in praise of the genial Riccardo, son of England.

ACT II

It is late at night when the second act begins. Amelia slinks in, before the snow-covered gallows, and is about to commence her fearful task. Bitterly she laments the fact that she must extinguish forever the love she bears Riccardo, but she is resolute nonetheless. At the close of her aria
(Ma dall’ arido)
she sees a figure approaching in the darkness. At first she is frightened, but it turns out to be Riccardo himself. In the long duet that follows, he begs for her love; but she points out its dishonor, for her husband, Renato, is Riccardo’s most devoted friend. Nobly he agrees; and as their tragic emotions come to a musical climax, they see another figure approaching. This time it is—Renato! Quickly Amelia hides her face in her cloak. Renato has come to warn Riccardo once more, for the conspirators are even now on his trail. Riccardo asks Renato to escort the lady with him back to the city, and he must do so without once speaking to her or trying to find out who she is. Renato readily consents, and Riccardo quickly leaves.

It is just in time. For now the two villians enter—Samuele and Tommaso—ready to kill the Count. When, in their disappointment, they find only Renato and not Riccardo, they start to taunt the veiled beauty with him. Renato angrily draws his sword, the conspirators draw theirs, and Amelia steps in to save her husband. As she does so, her veil drops—and Renato discovers who she is. A dramatic quartet follows, punctuated by the villainous ha-ha-ha’s of the two conspirators. As the act closes, Renato invites these men to his house. Now he is on their side, and against his former friend and master, Riccardo, the noble Governor of Boston.

ACT III

Scene 1
begins with the drama of Renato’s return home with his wife, Amelia. She has apparently betrayed him with his best friend, and, in the tradition of French drama and Italian opera, there is only one thing the baritone can demand—the death of his wife. Eagerly she tries to explain, but to no purpose. And then, in the aria Morrò,
ma prima in grazia
, with cello obbligato, she makes a last pitiful request-that she may once more see their little son. When she is gone, Renato sings the one aria from
A Masked Ball
that everyone knows,
Eri tu che macchiavi
. It is addressed to a portrait of Riccardo that hangs on the wall—Riccardo, the former friend who has ruined all Renato’s happiness.

Now enter, once more, the villains, Samuele and Tommaso. Renato tells them he knows of their plot to take the Count’s life and, much to their surprise, he demands a part in that plot. Each of the three wishing to strike the deathblow, they decide to draw lots for this rather revolting privilege. At that moment Amelia returns and, in a fine, sardonic mood, Renato requires her to do the drawing of the name. To the accompaniment of sinister chords in the orchestra, she draws out the slip of paper, and the name on it is—Renato! The scene comes to a climax with a quartet in which each character voices his own emotions. But a fresh voice and tone is added to the ensemble as Oscar, the page, brings in the invitation
to the masked ball. As the scene closes, Oscar describes the splendor of the approaching festivities; Amelia tragically voices her despair; and the three men look forward to the consummation of their wicked plot. It is an especially brilliant piece of part-writing, this final quintet.

Scene 2
takes place on the evening of the ball itself. Count Riccardo is alone: he has resolved to send Renato and Amelia back to England. Thus, through self-sacrifice, he may achieve peace of mind for himself and happiness for his friend and his beloved Amelia. At the end of the aria he receives an anonymous note advising him not to attend his own ball. But Riccardo is fearless, and he resolves to go.

Scene 3
And now, without an intermission, the scene shifts and the ball is in progress. Everyone is, of course, disguised; but by questioning and threatening young Oscar, Renato manages to find out the disguise of Riccardo. Presently, during the dance, Amelia, masked like everyone else, meets Riccardo. Trying to disguise her voice, she gives him one more warning of the plot against his life, for, of course, it was Amelia who had sent the warning letter. But Riccardo recognizes his beloved. He tells her of his plan to return her and Renato to England, and their voices join in one final love duet. Renato, overhearing them, steals up behind Riccardo—and, with an exultant cry, deals him a deathblow. Immediately Renato is seized; but with his last words Riccardo forgives him and hands over the order, already signed, for his return to England with Amelia. With everyone sorrowing over the loss of so noble a ruler as Riccardo, the opera closes on a rich but somber concerted number.

    
Postscript for the historically curious:
On the night of March 16, 1792, the liberal-minded monarch Gustavus III of Sweden was shot at a masked ball by a leader of the aristocratic party, Jakob Johan Anckarström. Gustavus lingered on for thirteen days before he died; and Anckarström was arrested, tried, and sentenced to be flogged, to have his offending hand hacked off, and then to be beheaded. However, the sentence was to be remitted if he would name the other members
of the rather widespread conspiracy. This he refused to do. The sentence was carried out, and the others involved, against whom there was no conclusive evidence, fled the country.

IL MATRIMONIO SEGRETO

(The Clandestine Marriage)

Opera buffa
in two acts by Domenico Cimarosa
with libretto in Italian by Giovanni Bertati
based on the English comedy
The Clandestine
Marriage
by George Colman the elder and
David Garrick

Time: 18th century

Place: Bologna

First performance at Vienna, February 7, 1792

    
The Secret Marriage
is what the opera is usually called in English; but I have chosen to translate it as
The Clandestine Marriage
, for that is the name of the comedy by George Colman the elder and David Garrick on which Giovanni Bertati based his libretto. True, Bertati made extensive alterations. He made all the original English characters but one Italians, he eliminated one of the most important members of the cast (the father of the noble suitor), he shortened and simplified as librettists must, and he transposed the scene from London to Bologna. But the plot and the motivations remain essentially the same, and it would seem worth while to retain the title of a minor classic of the English stage which was a huge success a quarter of a century before Bertati discovered
it, and it has remained a part of our literature ever since.

As an opera, it was also a huge success from the beginning and has remained the only one of Cimarosa’s sixty-five operas to be heard in our century. It was his forty-ninth attempt, his biggest but by no means his only success. The wandering Italian composer had recently come from a period as court composer to Catherine of Russia to take up an analogous post in Vienna—the post that Mozart had so much wanted to have. He composed
Il matrimonio
for the court of the Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II. The opera so delighted that monarch (so the story goes, at least) that he invited the cast to dinner and then demanded, as an encore, the entire score. No encore of equal length is recorded in operatic history.