100 Great Operas and Their Stories

by Henry W. Simon

  Unfortunately, the King’s daughter, Amneris, is in love with Radames and, on finding him alone, virtually tells him so. But when Aïda joins them, Amneris correctly interprets the warm but despairing glances exchanged by the tenor and soprano. Aïda justifies her tears—with good reason—on the grounds of the prospect of war with her own people, and a dramatic trio follows, each character expressing his own emotions simultaneously.

  Now Ramphis, the King, and the whole court come in. They hear an alarming report from a messenger: the Ethiopians are already invading, led by a fierce warrior named Amonasro. The King then announces that Radames has been chosen to lead the Egyptians in battle, and there is a vigorous, martial choral number, calling on all Egyptians to defend the sacred Nile River. At its close Amneris turns to Radames and proudly instructs him: Ritorna vincitor!—“Return as conqueror!” Then they all march out.

  All, that is, excepting Aïda. She repeats Amneris’s line ironically, then prays for the safety of her father, then remembers that his victory would mean the defeat of her beloved Radames, and finally ends her great aria with a pitiful, almost whispered prayer for the gods to have mercy on her.

  Scene 2 takes place in the dimly lighted Temple of Vulcan. The priests are gathered for the ceremony of anointing Radames as General of the Egyptian armies. Off-stage, a solo priestess and a chorus intone a prayer, and on-stage other priestesses perform a ritual dance before the altar. A silver veil is placed over Radames, and Ramphis presents him with a sword. The priest then intones a solemn prayer for the protection of Egypt’s sacred soil. Radames joins in the prayer; so do all the other priests; and the ceremony ends with an invocation to the Egyptian God, the “Almighty Ptah.”

  ACT II

  Scene 1 On a terrace of the palace in Thebes, Princess Amneris reclines voluptuously on a couch. Her female slaves beautify her, the while singing the praises of Radames, who has led the Egyptian armies to victory. Further entertainment is supplied by a troupe of Moorish slaves, who execute an eccentric dance.

  Then follows the great scene between Amneris and her Ethiopian handmaiden, Aïda. The Princess pretends sympathy for the girl because her people have been defeated, but her real purpose is to find out whether Aïda is her rival for the love of Radames. This she does by announcing his death in battle. Aïda’s cry of anguish convinces the Princess of what she has suspected. She accuses Aïda and announces that Radames is really alive after all. Aïda’s rapturous cry of “Thank God!” brings their rivalry out into the open. The slave begs for pity, but the Princess is passionately bitter about it. Suddenly their powerful duet is interrupted by off-stage trumpets and a chorus of triumph. Instructing her slave to follow her to the triumphal ceremonies, Amneris sweeps out, leaving Aïda to repeat the pitiful prayer she had voiced at the end of the opening scene.

  Scene 2 is the stirring Triumphal Scene. On a great avenue at the entrance to the city of Thebes, crowds are gathered about the throne. Warriors come in, then priests and dancers. There is a ballet and general rejoicing. The King mounts the open-air throne, and his daughter is seated beside him. Finally the returning hero, Radames, is welcomed, and the great Triumphal March—so familiar with its stentorian trumpets–is played just before he is drawn in on a chariot. When the King offers him anything that he wants, his first request is to have the captives brought forth. A miserable band of Ethiopians is brought on, in chains, led by Amonasro, their King. He manages to instruct Aïda secretly not to betray his true identity; and when he is asked to speak, he says that Amonasro has been killed, and he is himself a simple warrior. With great dignity he asks for mercy. The priests are against this, but Radames and the populace plead for the prisoners. A compromise is reached: all will be freed but this warrior, who is their leader. He, it seems, is put under something like house arrest.

  Then, without consulting the young man as to his wishes, the King announces that Radames shall marry the Princess Amneris. She, of course, is delighted; Aïda and Radames are filled with consternation; Amonasro tells Aïda that he still has hopes for their fatherland; and everyone else sings loudly and joyfully. It makes a grand concerted climax.

  ACT III

  The opening music suggests the scene vividly. It is a hot summer night on the banks of the Nile, near the Temple of Isis. A boat glides up, and the High Priest Ramphis and Princess Amneris step out and enter the temple; for it is the eve of her wedding to Radames, and she must pray.

  When they have disappeared, Aïda, heavily veiled, comes for a last rendezvous with her lover. If, she says, it is only to bid farewell, then she must drown herself in the Nile; and she sings her second great aria of the opera (O patria mia), in which she gives voice to her longing for her native land.

  But before her lover keeps his engagement, her father finds her. At first they sing warmly of their country, but Amonasro has more serious business on his mind. Their armies have reformed. All he needs to know is where to attack the Egyptians—and Aïda must get this information out of her lover. She recoils in honor, but Amonasro is so eloquent in describing what defeat will mean for her own people that finally she agrees.

  As Radames approaches, Amonasro hides himself. The lovers greet each other rapturously. Radames hopes that the new battle that is pending may delay his wedding to Amneris, while Aïda is all for his deserting now. She sings him a ravishing description of her country, but Radames refuses to turn traitor. Then Aïda turns on him and tells him to marry Amneris and forget her. At this he begins to weaken. He agrees to run away with her; he even tells her where the soldiers are whom they must avoid. This is what Amonasro has been waiting for. He rushes out, to the horror of Radames, and tries to drag the young soldier off with him. But suddenly Amneris and the priest issue from the temple. Amonasro and Aïda make good their escape, but the bitterly disillusioned Radames refuses to go along and, with a dramatic gesture, he surrenders his sword to the priest.

  ACT IV

  Scene 1 is the big scene for Amneris. Radames is about to be tried for treason. She waits in a passage near his cell and demands that he be brought forth. When he comes, she pleads to be allowed to save him. All she requires is that he give up Aïda and marry herself. Even when he learns that Aïda has escaped (though Amonasro has been killed), Radames turns down her offer of life with stoic scorn. He is led off by his guards.

  As the priests, solemnly chanting, file past to go to the dungeon where the trial will take place, Amneris reviles herself. Her jealousy, she says, will bring death to her beloved. Down below, the trial begins. Radames is charged by the priests with deserting camp before battle, with betraying his country, his King, and his honor. Though called on to do so, he makes no defense. Sentence is then pronounced: Radames is to be buried alive beneath the altar of the god he has failed to honor.

  When the priests have filed back from the dungeon of justice, Amneris curses them as “infamous tigers” and an “impious lot.” They remain unmoved, and even after they have passed by her, she continues to hear them repeat their condemnation of Radames. As the scene closes, she works herself up into a wild fury of frustration.

  Scene 2 takes place on two levels. This was Verdi’s own idea. Above is the interior of the Temple of Vulcan, where two priests set into place a stone to cover the opening. Through that opening Radames had been thrust into the crypt below. There he is awaiting death, and he utters a soft wish that Aïda may be happy wherever she is, and never hear of his dreadful end. But a moment later he sees a figure approaching him in the dimness. It is Aïda. She has managed to get into the tomb, knowing what would happen to Radames, and she has been awaiting him for three days.* With a cry of anguish Radames tries to lift the heavy stone, for he cannot bear the thought of Aïda’s dying, so young and so beautiful. But death is already coming over her. She sings her last farewell to earth (O terra, addio), and Radames joins in with her. Above, Amneris has entered. She has prostrated herself on the floor above the crypt, and she moans a prayer for Radames, who holds her dying rival in his arms. An
d as she prays, and as the priests chant a prayer, and the lovers sing their final farewell below, the curtain slowly falls.

  * This explanation of Aïda’s moribund state appeared in an early version of the libretto only.

  ALCESTE

  (Alcestis)

  Opera in three acts by Christoph Willibald

  Gluck with libretto in Italian by Raniero da

  Calzabigi based on Greek legend as told in the

  tragedy by Euripides

  ADMETUS, King of Pharae Tenor

  ALCESTIS, his wife Soprano

  HERCULES, the legendary strong man Bass

  EVANDER, a royal messenger Tenor

  APOLLO, god of many things Baritone

  THANATOS, god of death Bass

  HIGH PRIEST Bass

  Time: legendary

  Place: Thessaly

  First performances at Vienna, December 26, 1767 (in Italian), and at Paris, April 23, 1776 (in French)

  Gluck’s operas—especially Orfeo and Alceste—meet the test of being classics better than any other composer’s. By this I mean that they are the oldest operas to receive repeated productions even today. Alceste, for instance, is nine years older than the American Revolution, and yet it is still part of the repertoire of almost every great opera house in the world. An opera really has to have something to survive so long, and so vigorously.

  And this is what Alceste has: it has noble melodies and striking arias; it has vigorous and dramatic choruses—plenty of them, too; it has strong, striking orchestration, not just plunkety-plunk accompaniments like so many older operas; and above all, it tells its great old story with dramatic and musical integrity. That great old story is based on the popular dramatic theme of a love that is faithful unto death. It is a part of classical Greek mythology which you will find in your Bulfinch and in Euripides.

  When Gluck composed the opera, he was engaging in a sensational aesthetic war. He was trying to purge opera of some of those excesses that he believed made Italian opera absurd; and he made a special point of saying that the music should serve the drama, not get in its way. The arguments are clearly set forth in the famous preface to the published score, which is required reading for all serious students of the opera. (Actually, it was written by the librettist, Calzabigi, and only signed by Gluck.)

  The opera was a huge success in Vienna, where it was given in Italian. For Paris, ten years later, Gluck made a drastically different version, one which stuck closer to his announced principles and which is the one always given today. It was a failure. Gluck took it philosophically and wrote: “Alceste can only displease when it is new. It has not yet had time. I say that it will please in two hundred years …” For once, an artist was right when he made such a prediction. At least, I hope that he was right. The prediction has less than twenty years to run.

  ACT I

  In the first act the people of the city-state of Thessaly are already mourning their good King, Admetus, who is on the point of death. They pray to Apollo, for the King had once done Apollo a great service. Queen Alcestis and her children are announced by the messenger, Evander. She joins in the prayer, singing the fine aria Grands dieux du destin, but it takes some time to get an answer. Finally, after the elaborate offering of sacrifices and a stately ballet, the High Priest announces the decision of the oracle of Apollo’s temple. Yes, he proclaims, Admetus may be saved, but someone must offer to take his place in death. No one is devoted enough to do this, and all his subjects flee from the temple, leaving Alcestis alone. It is then that she has her greatest moment (and, incidentally, her greatest aria, Divinités du Styx). She decides that she cannot live without Admetus, and that she herself must make the sacrifice and take his place with Death. It is on this noble note that Act I ends.

  ACT II

  The second act begins with the rejoicing of the people, for their beloved King Admetus is well again, spared by the gods. They sing; they dance; they rejoice; and Admetus joins in the thanksgiving. Yet he knows that someone must have laid down his life to meet the conditions of the gods, and he is troubled by the absence of his wife, Queen Alcestis. Presently she comes in and tries to join in the general tone of rejoicing; but as Admetus questions her, the truth slowly dawns on him. Finally she admits it: Alcestis has offered herself to the gods to take the place of Admetus. Horrified, he reproaches her, for he cannot think of life without Alcestis any more than she could think of it without him. But—as Alcestis points out—the decision is made: the gods have accepted her sacrifice; and, as the act ends, she starts on her way to the realms of Hades, of Death.

  ACT III

  Scene 1 Like the first act, the last one begins with the populace mourning. But this time the people of Thessaly are mourning the loss of their Queen Alcestis instead of their King Admetus. Now, in comes a new and refreshing figure. He is Hercules, the strong man, who has just finished the twelfth and last of his Herculean labors. An old friend of the family, he is profoundly shocked when Evander informs him of what has happened. Immediately he resolves to try to get Alcestis back from Hades. (His last labor, though he is too polite to refer to it, had been getting Cerberus back out of Hades. It may therefore be assumed that he feels well trained for his new task.)

  Scene 2 This scene takes us to the gates of Hades. Alcestis wishes to enter at once—to die; but the specters of Hades tell her she must not enter before nightfall. Admetus, who has followed his wife, now comes in, hoping to take her place, but Alcestis nobly refuses. The god of death, Thanatos, appears and gives Alcestis the chance to renounce her vow, to remain on earth, alive, and let Admetus take her place. Still Alcestis remains firm.

  And now night begins to fall, and the specters of Hades call upon Alcestis to enter the gates. She is about to do so, when stout Hercules appears. He struggles against all the specters and appears at last to be triumphant, when the great god Apollo himself intervenes. So deeply impressed is Apollo with the devotion of husband and wife and with the valorous friendship of Hercules that he pronounces a happy ending to the tragedy. Hercules is given immortality, and Alcestis and Admetus are to return to earth, the models for all happily married people. The gates of Hades vanish; a host of people comes in; and the opera ends with a chorus of rejoicing led by Admetus, and with a grave and dignified, but happy, ballet.

  AMAHL AND THE NIGHT VISITORS

  Opera in one act by Gian-Carlo Menotti with

  libretto in English by the composer

  AMAHL, a crippled boy Boy Soprano

  HIS MOTHER Soprano

  the three kings

  KASPAR Tenor

  MELCHIOR Baritone

  BALTHASAR Baritone

  PAGE TO THE KINGS Baritone

  Time: the first Christmas Eve

  Place: on the road to Bethlehem

  First performance telecast from New York, December 24,

  First stage performance at New York, April 27, 1867

  Amahl and the Night Visitors is the first opera ever commissioned for television. The National Broadcasting Company telecast its premiere on Christmas Eve of 1951, and it elicited such a warm response that the performance has become an annual event. The effort has been made to retain the original cast year after year; but as the leading role is that of a boy soprano, certain obvious difficulties have arisen. Nevertheless, its audience for each of these performances has been estimated at several million; and thus Amahl has probably been heard by more Americans than any other opera—certainly more than any other American opera.

  The story takes place on the first Christmas Eve. In a small hut live an impoverished widow and her crippled son Amahl. He hobbles on a crutch and loves to play his shepherd’s pipe. He is also very imaginative—always seeing things. That is why his mother does not believe him at first when he says there are three kings calling on them. He is also a very curious child. That is why he asks the kings quite personal questions—such as whether they have blue blood and what is in that box they are carrying. And the kings are very simple and honest men. Th
at is why they give Amahl very simple and honest answers. And that is why they are very much pleased when the shepherds (Amahl’s neighbors) come and bring them simple gifts. The nicest gift of all turns out to be a shepherd’s dance.

  The kings are also kindly and warmhearted. That is why they do not mind when they catch Amahl’s mother trying to steal their gold in the night. They decide that the child they are going to see (who is the Christ child, of course) does not need the gold. And that also is why they are so much pleased when the miracle happens and Amahl suddenly finds that he can walk.

  Amahl and his mother love each other dearly. That is why Amahl, though crippled, attacks the kings’ page when he catches her stealing. And that is why, when the child leaves with the kings, you truly believe the mother and son as they sing their simple duet: “I shall miss you very much.”

  As Amahl goes up the road with the three kings, he again plays his pipe—just as he had played it when the curtain went up.

  L’AMORE DEI TRE RE

  (The Love of Three Kings)

  Opera in three acts by Italo Montemezzi with

  libretto in Italian by Sem Benelli, based on

  Benelli’s play of the same name

  ARCHIBALDO, King of Altura Bass

  MANFREDO, his son Baritone

  FIORA, wife of Manfredo Soprano

  AVITO, a former prince of Altura Tenor