100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (68 page)

Even before Vienna, Wagner had attempted to secure performances at Strasbourg, Karlsruhe, Paris, Weimar, Prague, Hanover, and, of all places, Rio de Janeiro, where it was to have been done in Italian! Mostly for political reasons none of these worked out. It finally achieved its premiere at Munich, six years after the score was completed, under the patronage of Wagner’s great but unbalanced friend, King Ludwig II of Bavaria.

The conductor of the premiere was Hans von Bülow, a fierce champion of Wagner’s music. Two months before the performance Frau von Bülow had given birth to a daughter, whom she named Isolde. Very probably the conductor did not realize at this time that the composer, in addition to being the godfather, was also little Isolde’s real father. In fact, Cosima von Bülow (an illegitimate daughter of Franz Liszt’s) bore Richard Wagner three children before Hans finally divorced her and she married the composer.

One need not find in the opera reflection of Wagner’s own series of passions for other men’s wives: the love of Tristan and Isolde is a far more idealized and purer thing throughout than any page of the composer’s shocking life-story. It is basically a very simple tale; and the score, perhaps more than any other Wagner ever composed, carries out his theories of what a music drama (as opposed to a traditional “opera”) should be. Gone are the set pieces of his latest produced opera,
Lohengrin;
and here, for the first time, the world heard a music drama in which the orchestra plays the unquestioned dominant role, commenting on every psychological and dramatic development with an elaborate system of leitmotivs, pursuing its way with the “endless melodizing” that Wagner had substituted for the arias, duets, quartets, and so forth to which everyone was accustomed. It created a violent war of the critics that is still being waged.

PRELUDE

Gone, too, was the security of knowing what key the music is in. I have decided never to be technical in this book; but perhaps I may be permitted to describe just the first two bars of the prelude harmonically. It bears the signature of C-major (or a-minor); it begins with a fragment of melody that might as well be in F-major (or d-minor); and before the second measure is completed, we have reached the dominant seventh chord of A. We have also been given two of the principal motives of the work by this time, melted so intimately into each other that some commentators have called them respectively the
Tristan
and the
Isolde
motives.

I shall leave the technical commentary at that. The Prelude is, as everyone knows, one of the most eloquent, sensuous, and moving tone poems about love ever written.

ACT I

Isolde is a princess of Ireland, the daughter of a distinguished witch, and herself entirely at home with poisons, drugs, and the medieval arts of healing. When the curtain rises, we find her on a ship. This is taking her, against her will, to become the bride of King Marke of Cornwall. The man taking her to Cornwall, the captain of the ship, is Tristan, nephew of King Marke. And Isolde, in a long and angry narrative, explains her anger to her attendant, Brangaene. She had had a fiancé named Morold. Tristan had fought Morold to decide whether or not Cornwall should continue to pay tribute to Ireland, and Tristan had won. But he had been wounded, and, disguised as a harper, he came to Isolde’s castle. Isolde was nursing him back to health, when she found a piece of Morold’s sword blade in Tristan’s head, and in that way she recognized who he was. She was about to kill him with it, when he looked into her eyes—and she fell in love. But now, on orders from his uncle, he is taking her to be married to the old man. No wonder she is angry!

She sends for Tristan, but, being busy with the ship, he sends his henchman, Kurwenal, instead. Kurwenal is a pretty down-to-earth and rude sort of baritone. He gruffly tells Isolde that Tristan will not come and impolitely sings her a ballad about Tristan’s victory over Morold. This makes Isolde angrier than ever, and she decides to kill Tristan and herself rather than be married to Marke—whom, by the way, she has never met. She tells Brangaene to prepare a poisoned drink and again summons Tristan. This time he comes, for it is almost time to land. Brutally she reminds him that he has killed her betrothed and, to atone, he offers her his sword to kill him. Instead, she suggests a drink. Fully expecting to be poisoned, Tristan accepts the cup. But Brangaene—without telling Isolde—has substituted a love philter for the death philter; and when Tristan has taken half the drink and Isolde the other half, there is an unexpected result. For a very, very long moment (while the orchestra plays music from the prelude) the two look into each other’s eyes. Hastily they embrace, uttering ecstatic phrases of rapture.

But suddenly the sailors are heard singing, for land has been sighted, and the journey is over. Together the two lovers rush off, utterly unprepared to meet King Marke.

ACT II

There is a quick-moving introduction to Act II, clearly depicting impatience, before the curtain rises on Isolde’s garden, outside her chambers in the castle of King Marke. (Whether or not a wedding ceremony has taken place between Acts I and II Wagner never makes clear. It is sufficient that Isolde, like everyone else, regards herself as Marke’s bride.) The King has gone hunting, and at the beginning of the act, we may hear the hunting horns off-stage. But while the King hunts, Tristan and Isolde have planned to meet. By the side of the castle there is a burning torch, and when that torch is extinguished, it is the sign for Tristan to come to the garden.

Brangaene, Isolde’s maid-in-waiting, fears a plot. She believes that Melot, a Cornish knight who is supposed to be
Tristan’s particular friend, will betray them. She warns Isolde to keep the torch burning till the hunting horns can no longer be heard. But Isolde is impatient. She says she cannot hear the horns, and she refuses to believe that Melot may be treacherous. She extinguishes the torch, climbs some steps, and waves her bright scarf in the moonlight to give Tristan a second signal.

As the orchestra mounts to a feverish climax, Tristan rushes in. “Isolde! Beloved!” he cries; and Isolde echoes him: “Beloved!” It is the beginning of the great love duet known as the
Liebesnocht—a
long, eloquent, moving expression of transfigured love—love that prefers night to day, and love that prefers death to life. At the end of the duet they are singing the familiar and beautiful melody of the
Liebestod;
and just as they reach the climax, Brangaene, who has stood watch, utters a piercing shriek. The King and his hunting party have unexpectedly returned. They have been brought back by Tristan’s supposed friend, Melot, who is himself secretly in love with Isolde and therefore acts from rather reprehensible motives. The noble King’s principal emotion is sorrow—sorrow that the honor of his dearly beloved nephew, Tristan, is besmirched. He sings of this in a very, very long monologue, while Isolde turns aside in deepest shame.

At its close Tristan asks her whether she will follow him; and when she assents, he denounces Melot and in a brief fight deliberately permits himself to be wounded. Before Melot can kill him, King Marke thrust Melot aside. With Isolde throwing herself on the wounded hero’s breast, the long act closes.

ACT III

Tristan has been brought to his castle in Brittany by his faithful henchman, Kurwenal. There he lies, wounded and ill, before the castle. He is waiting for a ship—the ship that bears Isolde, who will come to heal him. Off-stage, a shepherd plays a very doleful tune on his pipe. He is to make it cheerful only when he sees the ship. The doleful tune, the fever of
his illness, the tragedy of his life—these all combine to help confuse poor Tristan’s mind. It wanders over many things—his friendship for Kurwenal, his hatred of his enemies, his love for Isolde, the death of his parents. All these themes (and others too) go through his agonized brain as he lies there, while poor, simple Kurwenal tries in vain to comfort him.

Suddenly the shepherd’s tune changes. It brightens in a major key. The ship has been sighted. It disappears again—and it reappears—and a few moments later, Isolde comes rushing in. She is almost too late to see her lover alive, for in his excitement he has pulled off his bandages. As he embraces his beloved Isolde, he falls and breathes his last.

But another ship is seen. It is the ship bearing King Marke—and the villain, Melot, too. Marke has come to forgive the lovers, but Kurwenal does not know this. He rallies his few men, valiantly disputing the way with Marke’s followers, and he manages to kill Melot. But he himself also receives a mortal wound, and he falls, dying, at his hero’s feet. Then quietly, in the presence of King Marke and of Brangaene and the few survivors, Isolde takes the dead body of Tristan in her arms. Transfigured by her emotions, she sings the great
Liebestod
—the Love-death—and at its end she herself expires. Marke quietly blesses the dead, as the opera closes on two soft, long B-major chords.

IL TROVATORE

(The Troubadour)

Opera in four acts by Giuseppe Verdi with
libretto in Italian by Salvatore Cammarano
based on a play by Antonio García Gutiérrez
which was based, in turn, on some real
happenings

Time: 15th century

Place: Biscay and Aragon

First performance at Rome, January 19, 1853

    Ever since it was first produced in Rome on an especially dark and stormy night more than a century ago,
Il trovatore
has been one of the most popular operas in the world. The reason for its popularity today must be, at least partly, that it has so many tunes that everyone has loved from childhood. The
Miserere, Home to Our Mountains, The Anvil Chorus, The Tempest of the Heart
—these are only a few of the wonderful melodies that form part of our folk culture, whether sung by school children or heard on barrel organs. It can hardly be the storytelling which makes this opera so popular, for it boasts one of the most puzzling plots that ever graced
a stage. It is based on various events that actually happened in fifteenth-century Spain, but the scenes are so arranged that most of the pivotal actions occur before the opera begins or between the acts. Still, because the music is so eloquent, one can always tell whether the characters are happy or sad, or full of love or full of hate. And everyone in
Il trovatore
is full of some strong emotion all the time.

ACT 1
(“
THE DUEL”)

Scene 1
The first act, which bears the subtitle
The Duel
, opens in the vestibule of the palace of Aliaferia, where our heroine Leonora lives. An old soldier named Ferrando tells some servants and soldiers of the Count di Luna (who is outside waiting to court Leonora) a bit of family history. It seems that an old witch had cast a spell on one of the two sons of the old Count. For this she was burned at the stake, but her daughter, another witch, named Azucena, in revenge had stolen the old Count’s other son and thrown him into the flames. Everyone wants to catch and burn this younger witch; but meantime the ghost of the older one is supposed to be still flying about in the shape of an owl and frightening people to death. Ferrando’s listeners become wildly excited over this tale, and as the midnight bell tolls vigorously, they all curse the witch.

Scene 2
On a moonlight night, outside the castle, Leonora tells her confidante Inez of the mysterious knight she loves. Many years ago she had crowned him the winner of a tournament, but then he had completely disappeared. Suddenly, on a recent night (and here Leonora sings her lovely aria
Tacea la notte)
he serenaded her. Inez warns Leonora against such a love, but her mistress only swears eternal faith to the mysterious troubadour.

When the two girls have returned to the castle, this mysterious singer is heard off-stage accompanying himself on a lute. Leonora rushes out and—mistakenly, of course—throws herself into the arms of Di Luna, who has been lying in wait for her. And when the singer, the troubadour, appears, the Count immediately
challenges him to a duel. In a mighty trio Leonora pleads for the troubadour’s life, while the two men defy each other. Then, with swords drawn, they rush off to fight.

ACT II (“THE GYPSY”)

Scene 1
The gypsy Azucena is in the center of the stage as the curtain goes up, surrounded by other gypsies in their camp in the mountains of Biscay. They break at once into the famous
Anvil Chorus
. Immediately afterwards, in the aria
Stride la vampa
, Azucena describes the terrible day on which she had seen her mother burned at the stake; and as soon as the gypsies have melodiously gone off in search of food, she gives her son Manrico (who is the troubadour of Act I) more details. With great intensity she tells how she had stolen the old Count di Luna’s younger son and how, intending to throw
him
into the flames, she had by error picked up her own child and destroyed him instead. Thus we learn that Manrico is really the brother of his rival, the present Count di Luna. As for Manrico’s questions as to who he really is, she insists that
he
is her son, for she has saved his life. Manrico, like the audience, remains puzzled. And now, in a lovely aria,
Mal reggendo
, he tells about his duel with Count di Luna. He had had Di Luna on the ground, defenseless, when some mysterious power held his victorious arm and spared Di Luna’s life. But the mother and son agree that he never again should show such mercy.