100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (49 page)

Presently Kundry, the most beautiful of all, appears. When the others have departed, she tells him of his noble father, Gamuret, and his mother, Herzeleide. She says that it was she herself who gave him his name, which means “guileless fool.” She proceeds to make love to him and at last to kiss him. But the kiss awakens him to passion—and to knowledge. Suddenly he seems to know the meaning of the wound of Amfortas—and that
he
may heal it. Vigorously he repels Kundry, and she cries to Klingsor for help. The sorcerer appears and hurls the sacred Spear at Parsifal. But a miracle occurs. The Spear sticks in the air directly over Parsifal’s head, and he grasps it and makes the sign of the cross. Klingsor’s whole castle falls in ruins; the garden becomes a desert; and Kundry sinks to the ground. Turning to her, Parsifal cries: “You know where only you may see me again!” And he disappears.

ACT III

Scene 1
Years have passed since the dramatic events of Act II. The young hero has been unable to find his way back
to the Temple of the Grail, and the brotherhood of knights has suffered as Amfortas, still wounded, remains unable to perform his holy office.

It is a beautiful morning on Good Friday as the aged Gurnemanz issues from his hut. Again, after many years, he finds the repentant Kundry lying on the ground only half conscious. She has at last returned, to resume her service for the knights. Now a knight in black armor, a visor hiding his face, approaches. At the request of Gurnemanz, he removes the warlike clothing in this sacred place, and he kneels in prayer. Both Gurnemanz and Kundry recognize the knight as Parsifal, and he tells them of his many wounds and hardships as he has searched for Monsalvat. And Gurnemanz, in return, tells of the sufferings of the fellowship of knights and of the death of the old King Titurel. Parsifal faints with grief over the recital, blaming himself for all the suffering. But Gurnemanz solemnly baptizes the knight, and Kundry, with a golden phial, bathes his feet. Parsifal, in turn, asks Gurnemanz to anoint his head as well, and so Parsifal becomes the new King of the Grail. As his first act, the new King baptizes Kundry. And now, as the beauty of the natural scene strikes Parsifal, we hear the extraordinary Good
Friday Music
. There is a tolling of bells, and the three depart to attend the final rituals over the body of old Titurel.

Scene 2
Inside the great hall of the Grail, Amfortas is helped to the throne. His suffering still makes it impossible for him to uncover the Grail, and he begs for death. But Parsifal now steps forward and touches the wounds of Amfortas with the sacred Spear. At once they heal; and Parsifal proclaims himself King. He takes the Grail from the shrine, and as he kneels in silent prayer, it sheds a glow that spreads into a shining radiance. The voices of the knights, the squires, and the choir boys rise through marvelous harmonies; Kundry falls lifeless to the ground; and as Parsifal holds the Grail aloft before the sacred brotherhood, the orchestra plays the final, transfigured themes of the
Grail
and of the
Last Supper
.

PELLÉAS ET MÉLISANDE

Opera in five acts by Claude Debussy with
libretto in French by Maurice Maeterlinck

Time: the Middle Ages

Place: a fictional kingdom called Allemonde

First performance at Paris, April 30, 1902

    When Claude Debussy first met the cast that was to perform his setting of Maeterlinck’s poetic play,
Pelléas et Mélisande
, he made a very strange opening remark. He said: “First of all, ladies and gentlemen, you must forget that you are singers.” What he meant, I am sure, is that the music was only one element in the effect he wished to produce. Here there were no set arias, duets, or quartets—not even any high C’s to take! There were few melodies one could whistle on the way out. All was done for one purpose: to capture and to project the magical feeling of the sad, highly poetical, almost mystical air of Maeterlinck’s story about a medieval land that never existed. It was a striking departure from any opera ever staged in France—or anywhere else, for that matter; and it took many months of rehearsal for the singers to master their roles. No wonder, then, that it was misunderstood by most of its first
audience! Even today, fifty years later, many first-time listeners find it strange. But as one listens—even for the first time-one inevitably falls under its magical spell. That spell springs from the other-worldly poetic nature of Maeterlinck’s play. It is infinitely enhanced by Debussy’s unobtrusive, impressionistic score and marvelously sustained through the quietly eloquent interludes played between the many scenes as the stage sets are changed.

ACT I

Scene 1
After a short prelude, the story begins: Deep in a forest, Prince Golaud has lost his way. Soon he comes on a beautiful girl with long and lovely blond hair, weeping beside a spring of water. Her answers to his questions are vague and mysterious—and childlike, too. She has dropped a golden crown into the spring, but she will not let the prince get it back for her. She seems to be a lost princess, and her name is Mélisande. Golaud sees it is growing dark. He does not touch the frightened girl, but he leads her away to find a place of shelter.

Scene 2
And now there is a lovely orchestral interlude as the scene changes to the castle of King Arkel of Allemonde, who is the grandfather of Golaud. Geneviève, the mother of Golaud, is reading a letter from her son. He has married Mélisande without the King’s consent, and he fears to return. The letter is addressed to Pelléas, the half brother of Golaud, and it asks Pelléas to find out how Arkel will feel about this marriage. Arkel is forgiving. He tells Pelléas to place a light at the top of the tower of the castle, toward the sea. This will be the signal for Golaud’s return with Mélisande.

Scene 3
Once more there is an orchestral interlude, once more a change of scene. It is a darkling garden by the sea. Mélisande is unhappy about the constant darkness in and about the castle, but Geneviève assures her one gets used to it. Pelléas joins them, and they watch a ship departing. It is the ship that brought Mélisande—and this too makes her sad. And then-at the very end of the scene—Pelléas says that he
may leave the next day. Quietly, pathetically, Mélisande murmurs, “Oh, why do you leave?” for she already is half in love with her husband’s handsome younger brother.

ACT II

Scene 1
It is a hot, midsummer day, almost noon, when Mélisande and Pelléas find themselves deep in the woods, beside a deserted fountain. Pelléas speaks of the magical qualities the fountain once had, but Mélisande scarcely listens. She throws herself down beside the fountain and plays with her hands in the water. “Be careful!” begs Pelléas. But Mélisande plays on, and her wedding ring drops into the fountain. They cannot get it back, for the water is too deep. Mélisande is worried, but Pelléas tells her not to be upset. It is time to go back, for it has struck noon. “But what shall we tell Golaud?” asks Mélisande. “The truth, the truth,” murmurs her brother-in-law.

Scene 2
And then, after the orchestral interlude, the scene changes to Golaud’s room. He is in bed, for just at noon (when Mélisande had dropped her ring into the water), his horse had shied and thrown him. Mélisande is by his side, and he tries to comfort her by telling her his wounds are not serious. Still, she is troubled; she cannot say why, except that it is always so dark. Tenderly he takes his young wife’s hands in his—and notices that the ring is gone. Suddenly he is afraid, and angry. She tries to avoid his questions and finally says that she lost it in a grotto by the sea—that she was there with little Yniold, Golaud’s son by an earlier marriage. It must be found, insists Golaud; Pelléas will go with her. “Pelléas? Pelléas?” she cries. But Golaud insists; and as Mélisande leaves, she weeps: “Oh, oh! I am not happy!”

Scene 3
Once more an interlude, once more a change of scene. It is dark, and the orchestra seems to describe the mysterious grotto by the sea. That sea does not sound happy tonight, says Pelléas to Mélisande—and suddenly the moon comes from behind a cloud. In the light they see three white-haired beggars sleeping against a rock. Little Mélisande is
frightened; she wants to leave quickly. “We shall come back another day,” says Pelléas.

ACT III

Scene 1
Mélisande is at her window, combing her long, golden hair, and singing an ancient ditty. Up the path comes Pelléas and stops beneath Mélisande’s tower. He tells her he must leave on the morrow, but Mélisande begs him not to. She will not let him kiss her hand unless he says he will not leave. So Pelléas promises to wait. She leans out to reach him her hand, and her long tresses tumble over him. Passionately he kisses them as he cries that he will not let them go. Some frightened doves fly away—and suddenly Golaud comes up the path. Nervously he laughs; he calls them “children”; he says they must not play there in the dark—and he leads away his half brother, Pelléas.

Scene 2
The music of the interlude grows darker, more ominous. Into a subterranean passage of the castle Golaud leads Pelléas. He calls attention to the smell of death there; he points to the dangerous abyss; and Pelléas understands his warning. “I am stifling here,” he says miserably as the two brothers leave the unpleasant place.

Scene 3
The music grows lighter again as they come out, and Pelléas is happier. But Golaud warns him more directly. He says he saw what happened beneath Mélisande’s window, and from now on Pelléas must avoid his sister-in-law—only, not too obviously. For Mélisande must not be worried; she may soon be a mother.

Scene 4
Golaud is before the castle with little Yniold. He questions the child about Pelléas and Mélisande. “What do they speak about?” he asks. “About me,” says the child. “Do they kiss each other?” But Yniold only kisses his father by way of answer. The man becomes tense and the child is frightened. Suddenly there is a light in Mélisande’s room above. Golaud makes Yniold climb up and spy for him. He asks questions; but all the child can see is Pelléas and Mélisande standing quietly, looking at each other. Suddenly the frightened child
cries that he is afraid he will scream if he must stay there; and the frustrated, tormented father leads him away. The final sounds of the orchestra suggest the harsh torment of the man.

ACT IV

Scene 1
Pelléas is with Mélisande and, in a very restrained scene, he begs for a rendezvous near the fountain. Now—almost ironically—there is a long, quiet soliloquy by old King Arkel. Impressed by the simple beauty of Mélisande, he says how much he believes that youth and beauty make everything turn out happily. He could not, of course, be further wrong in this tragic story.

Soon Golaud appears. His head is wounded, but he refuses to let Mélisande bandage it for him. And when Arkel remarks on the innocence in Mélisande’s eyes, Golaud works himself up into a rage. He demands that she bring him his sword; and when she has fetched it, he seizes her by her long, golden hair. Violently he drags her along the floor—to the right, to the left—but Mélisande utters no word of protest. Finally, Arkel intercedes, and Golaud leaves in anger. Then, only, does Mélisande speak: “He loves me no longer,” she says. “I am not happy.” And the scene ends with Arkel’s profoundly moving sentence: “If I were God,” he says, “I should take pity on the hearts of men.”

Scene 2
Now there is an especially eloquent interlude. By the fountain in the park little Yniold is playing, looking for his lost golden ball. A flock of bleating sheep passes by, and suddenly they are silent. “Why do they no longer speak?” asks the little boy. “Because they are not on the right road home,” answers a shepherd. All this, of course, is a kind of symbolic commentary on the unhappy situation of Yniold’s elders. It is a poetic scene usually omitted from stage performances, and ends with Yniold’s running off. He sees it is growing dark and feels he must—as he says—“say something to someone.”

Scene 3
Then Pelléas comes to the fountain for his rendezvous with Mélisande. He is determined to run off from his hopeless, guilty love; but when she joins him, he inevitably
tells her that he loves her. It is the first open declaration he has made, and Mélisande responds simply and truthfully: she, too, has loved him ever since she first saw him. The love scene works softly to a climax. In the distance is heard the closing of the palace gates, and the lovers sense that fate has overtaken them. And now, in the darkness, they feel—and then they hear—the approaching footsteps of Golaud. He has a sword in his hand. Desperately the lovers embrace. Pelléas begs Mélisande to flee with him, but she will not. Quickly, without uttering a word, Golaud strikes Pelléas down. Little Mélisande flees into the dark woods, crying, “Oh, oh! I have no courage!” Golaud runs after her, into the woods.

ACT v

Now Pelléas is dead, slain by his brother Golaud. But Mélisande is hardly aware of it. She has been found; she has given birth to a child; and she lies, dying, in bed. Old King Arkel is with her; so is Golaud; so is the doctor, who gives the old, hopeless, helpless professional encouragement. Golaud is full of remorse—and yet he is still jealous and tortured by uncertainty. He asks to be left alone with his young wife, and he torments her with questions. Did she love Pelléas? Of course, the girl answers simply. Were they guilty? No, says Mélisande. But her answers, her whole speech is so vague—so otherworldly in its quality—that Golaud can never feel sure. And when Arkel and the doctor return, Mélisande once more—as she had done before-complains of the cold, the darkness. They bring her the baby girl, and Mélisande says simply, “She is little … She too will weep … I pity her.” Everyone feels the approach of death as the servants of the house file quietly into the room. Once more Golaud brutally demands the truth, but Arkel intervenes. It is too late to disturb the dying girl, and her soul passes from the earth. Slowly, Arkel leads the sobbing Golaud from the room. “It was not your fault,” he says. And finally, turning to the baby, he tells her that she must live to take the place of Mélisande.