But it seems that a witness is necessary. And who should that witness be? Why, Ernesto, who just happens to be in the other room. And a very angry Ernesto he is, for he has not yet been told Malatesta’s plan, and, to add insult to injury, he has been almost thrown out of the house by the servants when all he wanted to do was say good-by. Malatesta, however, draws Ernesto aside and tells him of the fake contract. Somewhat calmed by the news, he consents to go through with the farce. The document is signed, and the notary leaves. Naturally, at this point there is a perfect opportunity for a quartet. The emotions expressed go something like this: Norina is worried lest Ernesto lose his temper and give the plot away; Ernesto thinks he will go mad from confusion; Malatesta begs him to believe in him; and Don Pasquale smugly observes that he may deal more gently with his nephew. Finally the ceremony is completed and the papers are signed.
Now the fireworks really begin. Suddenly, according to plan, Norina becomes a shrew. She pushes Pasquale away when he tries to embrace her and tells him he is too old even to take her walking, Ernesto, she says, will do that! Next, she proceeds to try to ruin Pasquale. She orders the present servants’ salaries to be doubled and tells the major-domo to hire at least twenty-four more immediately. Furthermore, they must all be young and handsome. Nor does she stop here, but then and there orders a new carriage and new furniture. Meanwhile Pasquale moans and groans that he will be ruined. Norina ignores him and keeps right on, saying that the thousand other items can be taken care of next day. The delighted Ernesto and Malatesta congratulate each other; Pasquale bemoans his fate; and the quartet comes to a grand climax as the curtain falls.
ACT III
Scene 1 finds Don Pasquale virtually tearing out his hair. Norina, his supposed new wife, has ordered all sorts of finery, and poor Pasquale is going over the bills. As he does this, the servants keep on delivering more and more things. Norina grandly enters and, without a glance at Pasquale, blithely announces that she is going to the opera. Pasquale tries to block her way and is rudely rebuffed. “Old men should go to bed early,” says the vindictive Norina. She shoves him away, flings one last insult at him, and merrily goes off, accidentally on purpose dropping a letter, which he picks up and reads. It is a love letter to “Dearest Sofronia” and specifies a time and a place in the garden for an assignation. Furious, Pasquale sends a note to Malatesta to tell him that he is sick, and then he staggers out of the room.
Now the servants take over. They are delirious with happiness, they say; for while there is not a moment’s peace, what does that matter when there is so much money to be got? They finish up by warning each other to be careful. That way they will be able to keep on working in this fine house.
When the servants leave, Malatesta and Ernesto appear. They are discussing Ernesto’s forthcoming rendezvous, for it was Ernesto, of course, who wrote the love letter. It is agreed that Ernesto is to disappear the moment Malatesta arrives with Pasquale. As Ernesto rushes off, Pasquale enters complaining bitterly. He wishes Ernesto had married Norina, he says. His “wife” has squandered his fortune, and now she is planning a rendezvous with a lover. And in his own garden! Malatesta, reading the letter, pretends to be appalled, and Pasquale swears revenge. In a very amusing duet Malatesta proposes his own plan. “Surprise them in the garden,” he says. “Threaten to expose them. And,” he adds, “faced with public disgrace, they are sure to give each other up.” Pasquale is sure this treatment is too lenient. He agrees, however, to send his wife away if she is guilty, while Malatesta ironically promises that he will make sure she is properly handled after that.
Scene 2 takes place in the garden, on a perfect spring night. Our hero is heard singing one of the most beautiful arias in the opera (Com’ è gentil), and the chorus joins in occasionally, answering Ernesto as he sings of his passion. (Incidentally, at the first dress rehearsal of this opera, everyone thought it might fail. Donizetti went home; he found this serenade in a drawer; he gave it to the leading tenor; and on opening night it was the hit of the show.) When it is over, Norina joins Ernesto, and now only one thing is possible—a glorious duet (Tornami a dir che m’ami). As their song of longing and loving ends, Pasquale and Malatesta are seen coming toward them, and Ernesto escapes into the house according to the agreement. Norina pretends to be horrified as Pasquale demands to know where her lover is and starts searching with pretended help from Malatesta.
Foiled in finding her lover, Pasquale tells Norina to leave his house, but she pertly reminds him that it is her house. Malatesta interrupts them and reminds Pasquale of his promise to let him handle things. He takes Norina aside and quietly instructs her on just how to behave. Aloud he announces that another bride is to enter the house on the morrow. She is to be Ernesto’s wife, the widow Norina. Now Pasquale’s pretended wife pretends real anger. She swears she will never live under the same roof with this Norina and even demands proof that the new marriage is to be a real one. Ernesto is called and is told that his uncle has approved of his marriage to Norina. For appearance’s sake Norina objects, and this, naturally, makes old Pasquale demand the marriage even more strongly. He asks to see the proposed bride. “She is already here,” says Malatesta, and leads Norina to him. The plot is then made clear to Pasquale by Malatesta. The poor Don, confused and angry, denounces them all. However, there is good in everyone, even in a selfish old rogue, and he finally gives in to Norina and Ernesto, who are on their knees to him. He puts his arms around them, and Malatesta’s words Bravo, bravo, Don Pasquale introduce one last quartet in which they all moralize on the foolishness of an old man who marries a young girl, for it can only bring trouble.
ELEKTRA
Opera in one act by Richard Strauss with libretto
in German by Hugo von Hofmannsthal,
based on Sophocles’ Elektra
CLYTEMNESTRA, widow of Agamemnon Contralto
AEGISTHUS, her lover Tenor
ORESTES, her son Baritone
Her daughters
ELEKTRA
CHRYSOTHEMIS Sopranos
TUTOR OF ORESTES Bass
Time: after the fall of Troy
Place: Mycenae
First performance at Dresden, January 25, 1909
Elektra is not only a thriller; it is a shocker, too. In fact, when it was first performed in Germany in 1909, some critics thought that the last word (or shall we say note?) had been written in unashamed frankness and passion. What, then, caused all the furor? It was just the familiar Greek legend first outlined by Homer and later immortalized by Sophocles. But the librettist had retold the story more or less in terms of modern psychology, while Strauss had composed a score as explicit and as exciting as only a modern master could make it.
You may recall, from Homer or Sophocles or Bulfinch, that while King Agamemnon of Mycenae was at the Trojan War, his wife Clytemnestra had taken a lover—one Aegisthus. When Agamemnon returned, he was promptly murdered; and since then Aegisthus and Clytemnestra had ruled in his place. Two of Agamemnon’s children—Elektra and Chrysothemis—were kept around the palace almost as slaves. A son—Orestes—had escaped, and the two sisters prayed for the return of their brother to avenge the father. Elektra grew up a strange, brooding, savage woman.
The opera opens in a court of the palace as a number of the women servants discuss her odd behavior. Only one of these women has any sympathy for Elektra, for she feds her moral strength and regal grandeur. Soon Elektra herself enters and invokes the spirit of her dead father, Agamemnon. A few moments later she has an interview with her younger sister, Chrysothemis, in which the older girl tries to pour some of her own strong spirit into the younger and weaker one. When Clytemnestra appears, asking what sacrifices she should make on account of her guilty dreams, Elektra offers no comfort. Instead, she predicts the violent end that will overtake her own evil mother.
Now the false news is spread that Orestes lives no longer. Chrysothemis herself brings it to Elektra, who tries to persuade the younger girl to join her in committing the a
ct of vengeance demanded by the gods, now that the brother is gone.
But the fact is that the false news has been brought by two strangers, and one of these is Orestes himself. There is a scene in which brother and sister recognize each other. Orestes, though he is less savagely vengeful than Elektra, knows what he must do, and he grimly enters the palace with his aged companion. A moment later are heard the two despairing cries of Clytemnestra that indicate her murder, and Elektra savagely shouts for joy that the deed has been done. Now Aegisthus enters. He has heard of the news of Orestes’ death, and Elektra, with grim mockery, assures him that it is certainly true. She leads him into the palace—and there he meets the same fate as Clytemnestra.
Elektra is deliriously delighted with this solution of the domestic affairs of the Agamemnon family. She dances a brief dance of victory, and then, as the opera closes, faints away in ecstasy.
THE ELIXIR OF LOVE
(L’Elisir d’amore)
Opera in two acts by Gaetano Donizetti with
libretto in Italian by Felice Romani
ADINA, a wealthy girl Soprano
NEMORINO, a young peasant Tenor
BELCORE, a sergeant Baritone
DULCAMARA, a quack doctor Bass
GIANETTA, a peasant girl Soprano
Time: 19th century
Place: Italy
First performance at Milan, May 12, 1832
Donizetti, literally, turned out operas by the dozen. According to the latest count, made by Gianandrea Gavazzeni in his new Italian biography, there were seventy altogether, and The Elixir of Love was number forty. The composer was only thirty-four when he wrote it, and a letter quoted by Gavazzeni shows how quickly the composer had to work. Addressing his librettist, Felice Romani, he said: “I am obliged to write an opera in fourteen days. I give you a week to do your share.…But I warn you, we have a German prima donna, a tenor who stutters, a buffo with a voice like a goat, and a worthless French basso. Still, we must cover ourselves with glory.”
Well, they did cover themselves with glory, and the tenor part was written for a hero who stutters!
ACT I
Scene 1 The action takes place in an Italian village just about the time the opera was written—that is in the thirties of the last century. The heroine, Adina, is a wealthy young woman who owns several estates. On one of them there is a chorus of her friends when the scene opens. They sing a charming number, led by Adina’s intimate, Gianetta. Meantime, Adina’s hapless peasant lover, Nemorino, sings of his love in a sweet aria (Quanto è bella—“How beautiful she is”).
Adina herself reads to the assemblage a version of the story of Tristan and Isolda. It tells how they were made to love each other through a magical elixir, and Nemorino, in an aside, wishes he had some of that magical drink.
Now—enter the military. Sergeant Belcore, head of the little garrison stationed in the village, blusteringly asks Adina to marry him. The girl lightly but flirtatiously puts him off; and when everyone else has left, poor, stammering Nemorino presents his suit. In a long duet Adina puts him off, too, for she is quite bored by Nemorino’s pathetic love-making.
Scene 2 takes us to the village square. Here the assembled villagers are excited by the arrival of a magnificent coach bearing one Dr. Dulcamara, who introduces himself with a celebrated comic aria (Udite, udite). He is a medical quack—the Italian equivalent of the Wild West’s snake-oil salesman. And what has he to sell? Why, a magical elixir. Drink it, and you become invincible in love! Almost everyone becomes a customer at a very reasonable price, but the cunning Nemorino stays on and privately asks for Isolda’s love potion. At a much higher price—Nemorino’s last gold piece, in fact—he gets it. It is, of course, just like all the other bottles—that is, ordinary Bordeaux wine. But Nemorino takes a mighty dose of it, becomes slightly tipsy, and so, quite sure of himself now, acts in a very offhand manner with Adina. This new attitude piques the girl, and she immediately promises to marry Nemorino’s rival, Sergeant Belcore.
Poor Nemorino! Dulcamara had told him the elixir takes twenty-four hours to work, but Adina has promised to marry Belcore that very night, for the Sergeant is ordered away for the next day. As everyone is invited to the wedding, and Nemorino begs—in vain—to have it put off for a day, Act I comes to a close on a concerted number.
ACT II
Scene 1 begins just a few hours after Act I ends. All the villagers are gathered at Adina’s house to help prepare for her wedding to Sergeant Belcore. Dr. Dulcamara takes a leading part: together with Adina, he reads off a brand new barcarolle—a very pretty duet beginning Io son ricco e tu sei bella—“I am rich and you are pretty.” When the arrival of the notary is announced, the distracted lover Nemorino consults Dr. Dulcamara about his predicament. Naturally, the quack recommends another bottle of his elixir—one that will work in half an hour. Unfortunately Nemorino has no more money, and so, when the doctor leaves him, he consults his rival, Sergeant Belcore. Belcore advises enlistment in the Army, for there is a bonus of twenty scudi paid to all recruits. In an amusing duet the agreement is made, and Nemorino gets his bonus.
Scene 2 As everything should in the happy world of musical comedy, things turn out well in the final scene, which takes place the same evening. We learn, in the opening chatter-chorus for girls alone, that Nemorino has just inherited a fortune from an uncle. Nemorino himself does not know about it yet; and when he comes in—now more self-confident than ever through drinking the second dose of elixir—all the girls make love to him. He acts as though completely unimpressed by the attentions, even of his beloved Adina; and she, for her part, is quite upset by this turn of events. Dr. Dulcamara, seeing a chance for a new customer, offers Adina some of his elixir. In a delightful duet, she explains that she herself possesses a better elixir than his—to wit, a compound of various feminine wiles.
It is at this point that Nemorino, finding himself alone, sings the most famous aria in the opera (Una furtiva lagrima —“Down her soft cheek a pearly tear”). He has noticed Adina’s unhappiness, and he insists, in the aria, that he would gladly die to be permitted to comfort her. Nevertheless, when Adina approaches him, he maintains his attitude of indifference. Even when she tells him that she has bought his enlistment papers back from Belcore, he does not soften. Finally she breaks down and confesses that she loves him. The duet ends in impassioned happiness, of course; and now the opera draws quickly to a close. Belcore receives the news philosophically: there are plenty of other conquests available for a handsome soldier, he says. The news of Nemorino’s new-found wealth is shared with everyone, and good old Dr. Dulcamara takes credit for the happy outcome by claiming that the lovers were brought together through his chemical researches. As the opera closes, everyone is buying one more bottle of his celebrated Elixir of Love.
ERNANI
Opera in four acts by Giuseppe Verdi with libretto
in Italian by Francesco Maria Piave,
based on Victor Hugo’s tragedy Hernani
DON CARLOS, King of Castile Baritone
DON RUY GOMEZ DI SILVA, grandee of Spain Bass
ERNANI, OR JOHN OF ARAGON, a bandit chief Tenor
ELVIRA, ward of Silva Soprano
Time: 1520
Place: Spain and France
First performance at Venice, March 9, 1844
Ernani was Verdi’s fifth opera. With his third and fourth, Nabucco and I Lombardi, he had established himself in Italy as one of the foremost working opera composers, second perhaps only to Donizetti, for Bellini had died almost ten years before and Rossini had stopped composing operas even earlier. With Ernani, Verdi’s fame crossed the Alps; and though many northern connoisseurs found the score shocking—“brutal” was a favorite word—its sheer emotional power swept all before it.
Furthermore, it represented another victory for the romantic movement on the stage. Victor Hugo, on whose play the libretto is based, was one of the great leaders in this movement, along with Schiller and Dumas. Hugo and Schiller fur
nished forth the materials for many a successful opera; only Donizetti ever had any luck with a Dumas play, and this one effort (Gemma di Vergy, based on Charles VII) is now completely forgotten.
Today Hugo’s Hernani is still read in French schools, but it seems absurdly artificial and incredible anywhere else. The libretto for the opera is, of course, even worse in these respects. Hugo himself objected strongly to the liberties taken with his play. Yet the power of a few of the arias and concerted pieces (Ernani! involami, Infelice, O sommo Carlo, and a few others) kept the work in the standard repertoire for over a century; it is still often given in Italy; it is periodically revived in other lands; and individual numbers from it are sung wherever opera stars do congregate.
ACT I
Scene 1 Ernani, the hero of the opera, is really John of Aragon, son of the Duke of Segovia, who has been slain by order of the former King of Castile. That is why John has changed his name to Ernani and taken up the semi-respectable operatic trade of bandit chief. In his mountain camp, not far from the castle of Don Ruy Gomez di Silva, his followers open the opera with a drinking chorus. Their leader then obliges with a song in praise of his beloved Elvira (Come rugiada al cespite); his followers assure him that they will collaborate in his plans to carry off the lady; and they all depart in force toward the castle.
Scene 2 Now, this lovely Elvira is a relative of the owner of the castle, and also his ward. A gray-haired basso, he is in love with the young girl, and plans are already afoot for the wedding. Elvira herself, however, is in love with Ernani, and she compares him with her guardian Silva as she sits alone in her room and sings the most famous aria in the opera (Ernani! involami—Ernani! fly with me). When a chorus of maidens arrives to congratulate her on the approaching nuptials, she responds graciously, though in an aside she reminds us that it is Ernani she really loves.
100 Great Operas and Their Stories Page 13