How should such an operetta end? Why, with a joyful chorus, of course—in praise of champagne. And so it does.
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
(Der Fliegende Holländer)
Opera in three acts by Richard Wagner with libretto
in German by the composer, based on an
old legend as set forth in Heinrich Heine’s
Memoirs of Herr von Schnabelewopski
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN Baritone
DALAND, a Norwegian sea captain Bass
SENTA, his daughter Soprano
MARY, her nurse Contralto
ERIC, a huntsman Tenor
DALAND’S STEERSMAN Tenor
Time: 18th century
Place: a Norwegian fishing village
First performance at Dresden, January 2, 1843
There were many variants of the legend of the Flying Dutchman before Wagner crystallized it in his opera. Sir Walter Scott, in his role of antiquarian researcher, claimed that it was based on fact: a murder was committed aboard a vessel with a cargo of gold; the plague broke out; and all ports were closed to the ship. From this—and from the sailors’ superstition that the ship is still sighted at times near the Cape of Good Hope, always bringing bad luck with it—there naturally developed further embellishments: that the captain must perpetually play at dice against the devil with the captain’s soul as the stakes; that once in seven years the captain may land and remain ashore so long as he can find a woman who will be faithful to him; and a number of others. Captain Marryat made a once-popular novel of it, The Phantom Ship, and Heine retold the tale in his Memoirs of Herr von Schnabelewopski, characteristically putting a two-edged satirical point to it: men—don’t put your trust in women; women—don’t marry a rolling stone.
Wagner, equally characteristically, found more cosmic matter in the tale. He equated the Flying Dutchman with both Odysseus and the Wandering Jew; he equated the devil with flood and storm; and he equated (most characteristically of all) the release of finding a faithful woman with the release of death. Fortified with Wagner’s musical genius, his version has eclipsed all others.
The determination to use the theme for an opera came to him, apparently, during a particularly stormy sea voyage between East Prussia and England. What was normally a week-long trip took over three weeks, and the sailors superstitiously thought that the presence of Wagner and his wife was responsible for the bad weather. At one point they put in for safety at the Norwegian fishing village of Sandwike. This became the scene of the opera, and the sailors’ call in the opera is supposed to have been suggested to him there, with its echoing from cliff to cliff by the fjord.
Some weeks later in Paris, desperate for money, he sold a scenario for the work to the director of the Paris Opera. They would never put on the music of an unknown German composer, explained Monsieur le directeur, so there was no use in composing it. So Wagner accepted five hundred francs for the scenario and went home to compose the opera anyway. The Frenchman turned over the story to the composer-conductor Pierre Dietsch, whose Le vaisseau-fantôme beat Wagner’s opera to production by three months. It was a failure. But so was the first Paris production of Tannhäuser, when Dietsch conducted for Wagner nineteen years later. Wagner’s Dutchman was not very successful either when it opened at Dresden. After four performances it was shelved, in that city, for twenty years. Today, however, it is standard fare all over Germany and many other places as well.
ACT I
The first act opens with a chorus of Norwegian sailors who have been driven into the harbor of a fjord by a terrible storm. Their captain, Daland, explains this in a monologue and concludes by telling the steersman to keep watch while the rest of the crew gets a well-earned rest. The youthful steersman tries to keep himself awake by singing a sailor’s love song, but sleep soon overtakes him, and a strange ship anchors alongside the Norwegian. A stern gentleman, dressed in black, appears on land from this ship. This is the Dutchman, and he sings at some length about his fate. Every seven years he is allowed to land in search of a woman who will be faithful to him unto death. Only such a woman can release him from his curse. Failing to find her, he must spend the rest of eternity on his ship, shunned by everyone, even pirates. When Daland meets this noble-looking stranger, he asks who he is, and learns that the Dutchman is seeking a safe place for himself, and is willing to offer a good share of his treasure for it. The Dutchman also asks whether Daland has a daughter, and when the answer is yes, he forthwith proposes to marry her, offering Daland untold wealth in exchange. He shows Daland a chest full of riches, and the greedy Norwegian accepts at once. He invites the Dutchman to follow him to his home, which is not far distant, and the act ends as the sailors sing again, preparing to take their ship into their own harbor.
ACT II
The second act opens with the familiar Spinning Chorus, which is sung by a group of Norwegian girls including Senta and her nurse, Mary, as they sit spinning, and expecting the return of their fathers, brothers, and sweethearts on Daland’s ship. The act takes place in Daland’s home, and the scene is dominated by a large portrait of the Flying Dutchman, who, up to this point, is only a legend. But the legend has completely captured the imagination of Senta, Daland’s daughter, and after the Spinning Chorus she sings a ballad that relates the Dutchman’s story. She vows that she herself shall be the woman faithful unto death.
A young hunter, Eric, now arrives with the news that Daland’s ship is in the harbor. Everyone goes out to greet it, excepting Eric, who detains Senta a while. He is in love with her and expects to marry her, but he is deeply disturbed over her queer fascination for the legend of the Flying Dutchman. Desperately he tries to persuade her to come to her senses and promise to marry him, but she gives only vague, equivocal answers. Their conversation is ended by the arrival of the father, who brings along the Dutchman himself. He looks so much like the picture that there can be no doubt who he is. And when the father tells of his plans to marry Senta to his guest, she agrees at once, as in a trance.
There is then a long, strange love duet between the two who have just met, and the act ends as Daland gives them his blessing.
ACT III
The last act takes us again to the fjord. Both ships—the Dutchman’s and the Norwegian’s—are in the harbor, and the Norwegian sailors and their girls are trying to get the crew of the mysterious Dutch ship to join them in some fun. For a long time their jolly invitations go unheeded, but then the crew of the Dutch ship answers—briefly, mysteriously, derisively. The Norwegians are mystified, sing their chorus once more, and then depart.
Once more Eric pleads with Senta to give up her infatuation with the Flying Dutchman and to return to her old love. The Dutchman, overhearing this very eloquent love-making, decides that Senta, like all other women, is unfaithful to him. Despite her pleas, he orders his men to get ready to sail once more, and he boards the ship. In desperation Senta climbs high up on a hill. “I shall be faithful unto death,” she cries, and she flings herself into the fjord. The Dutchman’s ship sinks, and the horrified Norwegians on land see Senta and the Dutchman united at last—under the waters. He has found his typically Wagnerian redemption.
LA FORZA DEL DESTINO
(The Force of Destiny)
Opera in four acts by Giuseppe Verdi with libretto
in Italian by Francesco Piave, based on a play by Angel Pérez de Saavedra, Duke of Rivas
MARCHESE DI CALATRAVA Bass
DON CARLO DI VARGAS, his son Baritone
DONNA LEONORA DI VARGAS, his daughter Soprano
DON ALVARO, her lover Tenor
CURRA, her maid Mezzo-soprano
PADRE GUARDIANO, the father superior Bass
FRA MELITONE, a Franciscan monk Bass
PREZIOSILLA, a gypsy Mezzo-soprano
THE MAYOR OF HORNACHUELOS Bass
TRABUCCO, a muleteer Tenor
A SURGEON Tenor
Time: 18th century
Places: Spain and Italy
Fi
rst performance at St. Petersburg, November 10, 1862
Verdi’s La forza del destino, or The Force of Destiny, shows us the composer in his fine maturity, that is, at a time when he had already composed the great successes Rigoletto, Il trovatore, and La traviata. He was a famous man, a senator in his native Italy, and known throughout Europe. La forza was, in fact, composed for Russia, and it had its world premiere in 1862 at St. Petersburg. It was based on a drama by a romantic Spanish nobleman, the Duke of Rivas, and from its very beginning one senses the romantic and dramatic quality of that play.
OVERTURE
The overture—perhaps Verdi’s very best overture—is thoroughly dramatic and makes use of parts of several arias from the later acts as well as an aggressive little tune sometimes called the “destiny” motive.
ACT I
The story begins in eighteenth-century Seville. Leonora di Vargas, the aristocratic heroine, is in love with one Don Alvaro, who is part Inca Indian. No one of that sort is, of course, considered worthy of marrying a Spanish noblewoman. The proud Marquis of Calatrava, Leonora’s father, bids her forget all about Alvaro, but it is this very night that Leonora has already planned to elope with her lover. When the Marquis has left, she confides in her maid, Curra. Her father’s kindness, she says, has almost made her give up her plan for elopement; and so, when Alvaro bursts in through the window, he at first thinks she no longer loves him. But in an impassioned duet they swear eternal faith, and they are about ready to fly when the Marquis re-enters, sword in hand. He believes the worst at once, but Alvaro swears that Leonora is innocent. He offers to die to prove it, and he throws away the pistol he has drawn. Unfortunately, as it falls to the ground, it goes off, and the Marquis is killed by the bullet. With his dying breath the old gentleman sets in motion “the force of destiny” by uttering a terrible curse on his daughter—and Alvaro leads his beloved away as the act closes.
ACT II
Scene 1 Much has happened between Acts I and II. Don Carlo, arrived home, has heard that his sister Leonora has fled with her lover, Don Alvaro, Alvaro having first murdered their father, the Marquis. Naturally, as a good eighteenth-century Spaniard of high birth, he has sworn to murder both his sister and her lover. Meantime, the two lovers have become separated, and Leonora, disguised as a young man and guarded by a faithful old muleteer named Trabucco, is in flight.
The force of destiny is at work, as the act opens, for Leonora and her brother Carlo are lodged under the same roof—the inn at Hornachuelos. Fortunately, Carlo has not seen his sister, who does not join the merry crowd but hides from him. The Mayor of the town announces dinner, and this gives Carlo an opportunity to question Trabucco, with whom he gets nowhere.
Preziosilla, a gypsy fortuneteller, now whips up things with a martial tune, urging all the fellows to join up with the Italian Army to fight the Germans. No recruiting sergeant could have done better. Then she tells some fortunes—including Carlo’s, which is not very encouraging.
A group of pilgrims is heard passing outside, and a fine, impressive prayer is sung, in which Leonora’s soaring soprano is heard above the others. This over, Carlo again tries to question Trabucco, and again he is unsuccessful. And so, at the request of the Mayor, he tells his own story. His name, says Don Carlo, is Pereda, and he is an honor student at the university. And then he goes on to give a thinly disguised version of the murder of his father by his sister’s lover. It is a fine baritone aria with chorus, beginning Son Pereda, son ricco d’onore, and at its close the gypsy fortuneteller lets Carlo know she has seen through his disguise.
But now it is late. The Mayor tells everyone it is time for bed, and a good-night chorus ends the scene.
Scene 2 Leonora has been badly frightened by so nearly meeting her vengeful brother at the inn, and, still disguised as a young man, she has fled to the mountains nearby. Here she finds a church and convent, and she sinks before the cross outside to sing her touching prayer, Madre, pietosa Vergine. The gruff, half-comic Friar Melitone answers her knock but refuses her entry and calls up the head of the convent, Father Guardiano. In a long and eloquent duet, she identifies herself, finally securing his permission to lead the life of a complete hermit in a nearby cave. No human being may ever see her again—which is precisely the fate that this tragic heroine believes she desires, now that she thinks she has lost her lover, Don Alvaro, forever.
The act ends in what is perhaps the most impressive ensemble in an opera especially rich in big concerted numbers (La Vergine degli angeli—“The Virgin of the angels”). Guardiano summons the entire convent; he tells them of Leonora’s determination; and he calls a solemn curse down on anyone who shall disturb her.
ACT III
Scene 1 The first two acts took place in Spain. The force of destiny now takes many of the principal characters to Italy, to Velletri, to be exact, not very far from Rome. The Italians are fighting invading Germans (a not infrequent occurrence in the history of Italy), and there are many Spaniards fighting on the Italian side. Among them are our friends Don Carlo and Don Alvaro. There is some gambling going on in the Italian camp when the act opens. In the pitiful and melodious aria O tu che in seno agli angeli (“Oh thou, among the angels”) Don Alvaro bemoans his fate and especially the loss of Donna Leonora, whom he imagines as an angel in heaven. The gamblers start quarreling, and Alvaro saves the life of another man from an attack by fellow-gamblers. This man turns out to be Don Carlo, who has sworn to slay Alvaro. But as they have never before met, and as both give false names, they do not recognize each other, and they swear eternal friendship.
Now, off-stage, a battle commences, and the excited comments tell us that the Germans are beaten off. But Don Alvaro, seriously wounded and believing himself near death, begs his friend, Don Carlo, to do him one last favor. He is to take a packet of letters from his trunk and, without reading a single one, burn them. This Don Carlo swears to do in Solenne in quest’ora (“Swear in this hour”), a duet made famous through a very old recording by Caruso and Scotti. Alvaro is now carried off by the surgeon for a quick operation, and Carlo is left alone with Alvaro’s trunk. A passing reaction of Don Alvaro’s has made Carlo suspect his real identity, and he is tempted to examine those letters to confirm that suspicion. However, there is no need to break his oath, for he finds enough other evidence in that trunk to convince him that his new-found friend is in truth Don Alvaro—the slayer of his father and supposed betrayer of his sister.
Just then the surgeon returns to tell Carlo that Alvaro will live after all. In a great burst of excitement Carlo sings his revenge aria, Egli è salvo! (“He is to liver”). Now, he exults, he may carry out his revenge not only on Alvaro but on his sister Leonora as well!
Scene 2 takes us to the camp of the common soldiers. Here we meet some of our old friends from the previous act. Preziosilla plies her trade as a fortuneteller; Trabucco, the muleteer, has become a peddler, selling things like scissors, pins, and soap to the soldiers and camp followers; and Friar Melitone (who treated Leonora so shabbily at the convent) preaches a ridiculous sermon till the soldiers can’t stand any more of it and run him out of camp. It is a jolly scene, and it ends with one of the jolliest pieces Verdi ever composed. This is the Rataplan, in which Preziosilla, carrying a drum, urges the men on to deeds of derring-do. With practically only a drum for accompaniment, this number is a real technical challenge for the chorus of any opera company.
ACT IV
Scene 1 Although the last act is essentially both sad and dramatic, it begins with one of Verdi’s few genuinely comic scenes. Back in Spain in the courtyard of the convent near Hornachuelos, the crusty old Friar Melitone is dishing out soup to the beggars. He is so unpleasant about the business that they wish they might again see a certain “Father Raphael” handling the ladle. This so angers Melitone that he kicks over the caldron of soup, and the beggars depart.
The good old Abbot Guardiano reproves Melitone for his bad temper, and they briefly discuss the character of Father Raphael. He, o
f course, is none other than Don Alvaro in disguise, and Melitone tells how he had driven the quiet man almost mad by referring to him as a wild Indian.
Now Don Carlo enters and asks for Father Raphael—the one with the dark skin. While Alvaro—as we may as well call him—is summoned, Carlo gloats over his prospective revenge. Alvaro, dressed as a monk, comes in, and a long duet follows. First Alvaro refuses to fight, for he is now a monk, and he has already slain one member of Carlo’s family, even though accidentally. Don Carlo, however, piles insult on insult; and when he finally attacks Alvaro’s proud race—the Incas—the monk seizes the second sword that Carlo has thoughtfully provided, and the two rush off to duel.
Scene 2 takes place outside the hut where Leonora has taken up her life as a hermit. She sings her great aria, Pace, pace, begging for the peace of the grave. But as she finishes the aria, a cry is heard off-stage. It is Don Carlo, mortally wounded in the duel. A moment later Alvaro rushes on to get help for Carlo. Thus, after many years, the lovers meet unexpectedly and tragically. Leonora goes to help the dying man, but Carlo, with his last strength, carries out his oath: he stabs his sister as she bends to help him.
And so, when the Abbot Guardiano comes to see what has happened, the opera closes in a moving trio, Alvaro cursing his fate, and Leonora assuring him of forgiveness in heaven.
100 Great Operas and Their Stories Page 18