Time: 17th century
Place: Venice
First performance at Milan, April 8, 1876
La Gioconda is well over three quarters of a century old, and it is still one of the most popular operas ever composed. Its story, based on a play by Victor Hugo, has been set by other composers, before and since Ponchielli. In fact, the Russian composer, César Cui, produced one version, entitled Angelo, in 1876 just two months before the Italian. Only Ponchielli’s still holds the stage. The reason is doubtless the overwhelming passion of the music and its wonderful melodies. These include the Cielo e mar, the Suicidio, and the ever-popular Dance of the Hours.
Hugo’s original play took place in Padua. Arrigo Boito, Ponchielli’s famous librettist, transferred it to Venice of the seventeenth century. He also rechristened Hugo’s play, originally called Angelo, Tyrant of Padua, with one of the most ironic titles any opera ever had. La gioconda means, literally, “the joyous female,” but never had an operatic heroine more unbearable miseries than the one who goes by that name. And there is quite a lot of competition for that honor in the annals of the lyric stage.
The prelude, a fairly short one, is based on the contralto aria in the first act, Voce di donna o d’angelo (“Voice of woman or of angel”). Each act is supplied with its own title: Act I—“The Lion’s Mouth”; Act II—“The Rosary”; Act III—“The House of Gold”; and Act IV—“The Orfano Canal.”
ACT I
The opera opens with a jolly chorus, Feste e pane—“Feasting and bread.” A crowd before the palace of the Doges of Venice is celebrating a holiday. A nasty fellow, Barnaba (the villain of the opera and a spy for the Inquisition), tells them the regatta is about to begin. As they rush off to the shore, he remarks unpleasantly, “They are dancing over their graves.”
Now enter the heroine. She is a beautiful street singer known as “La Gioconda” for her joyous disposition. At the moment she is leading in her blind mother, La Cieca, and they sing a brief, affectionate duet. Now, Barnaba is in love with La Gioconda—or at least he has dishonorable designs on her. He approaches her, but La Gioconda will have nothing to do with him. So he plans revenge. As soon as the crowd comes back from the regatta, Barnaba tells the loser—Zuàne-that Gioconda’s blind mother is a witch and that she has cast a spell on him. The crowd turns on La Cieca, but she is saved just in time by the hero of the opera, Enzo Grimaldo. Enzo is a slightly mysterious figure with a complex past, present, and future. First of all, he has been outlawed by Venice, and he is there in disguise. Secondly, he is secretly engaged to La Gioconda. And thirdly, he was once engaged to Laura, the wife of the Duke Alvise—and Laura still loves him.
The crowd is growing more threatening, when the Duke himself and Laura appear at the palace doors, and they save both La Cieca and Enzo. The blind old woman, in gratitude, gives Laura a rosary. Here she sings her fine aria Voce di donna.
Meantime, Laura and Enzo exchange loving glances which do not go unnoticed by Barnaba. This, he decides, is his chance. When everyone else has left, he approaches Enzo and tells him he knows who he is—a proscribed nobleman in disguise. And, much to Enzo’s surprise, Barnaba promises to bring Laura that very night to Enzo’s ship. Enzo is happy but suspicious. He has good reason to be. For as soon as he has left, Barnaba turns to a public scribe and dictates an anonymous letter to the head of the Inquisition’s police. In it he tells of the proposed meeting that night. Gioconda, however, overhears him. She is heartbroken, and the act ends as she voices her lamentations above the evening prayers being sung by the populace.
ACT II
Ponchielli’s colorful music at once suggests the marine setting with Enzo Grimaldo’s ship on the lagoon. Sailors are singing, and soon Barnaba, the Inquisition spy, appears, disguised as one of them. He leads a merry ballad (Pescator, affonda l’esca), but his real purpose is to find out the strength of Enzo’s crew. Soon Enzo appears on the deck. He tells the sailors that he himself will bear watch that night, and when he is alone, he sings his great aria Cielo e mar. He awaits his beloved there, on the sea and under the sky. But when Laura does come, she is soon prey to misgivings; and when Enzo goes below-deck to prepare for flight, Laura begs for protection in the lovely prayer Stella del marinar.
La Gioconda has meanwhile entered, and an angry scene between the two women follows. Gioconda threatens Laura with a dagger; but, even worse, she informs Laura that her husband is about to come. At this news Laura brings out the rosary La Cieca had given her and starts again to pray. Gioconda recognizes her mother’s rosary and recalls the service that Laura had done her. Her whole attitude toward her rival now changes. Quickly she shoves her into a boat and makes good her escape. And so, when Enzo comes on deck once more, searching for Laura, he is met by the angry Gioconda. At that moment the guns of the Duke’s fleet are heard. Enzo realizes he is lost, and in desperation he sets fire to his own ship.
ACT III
Scene 1 takes place in the palace of the Duke Alvise, known as the House of Gold. Here the Duke is planning both festivities and a dramatic revenge on his faithless wife, Laura. He explains this in a dramatic monologue (Sil morir ella de’l—“Yes, to die is her fate”). As nocturnal serenaders are heard melodiously at work out of doors, he summons his wife, draws a curtain to reveal a bier all ready to receive her body, hands her a phial of poison with instructions that it must be drunk before the serenading is over, and leaves her to herself. He had not counted on our heroine, La Gioconda, who, anticipating something of the sort, had hidden herself in the palace prepared with the proper pharmaceuticals. Swiftly she hands a flask to Laura, explaining that this drug will produce only the semblance of death, not the real thing; and when Laura has taken it and laid herself dutifully on the bier, Gioconda pours the real poison into a phial of her own and leaves the empty one on the table. Thus, when the serenade is over and Alvise returns to inspect the situation, he believes everything is ready for titillating his guests with a shocking surprise.
Scene 2 Then comes the big party. Alvise welcomes his guests, and a ballet is danced for their entertainment to the music of the Dance of the Hours. At the end of the dance Barnaba drags in the blind old Cieca, who has been found praying for “the woman who has just died.” At that moment a funeral toll is heard. For whom is it? asks a guest. It is for Laura, says Barnaba. At this juncture the masked Enzo reveals himself, and Alvise furiously demands his arrest. A great ensemble number develops, everyone expressing his own emotions about the complex situation. Gioconda, who is also there, offers herself to Barnaba if only he will save her beloved Enzo and, naturally, he agrees. Then, when everyone is hushed, Alvise makes a shocking announcement: he will show the company the wife who had betrayed him. The curtains are pulled aside—and Laura is seen lying on her bier. “It was I who killed her!” cries the outraged Duke. Enzo lunges at him with a dagger, but the guards intervene, and Enzo is arrested as the act closes. There is a good deal of dramatic irony in this close. For neither the Duke nor Enzo nor Barnaba knows that Gioconda had once more saved her rival, Laura.
ACT IV
The last act takes place in a dilapidated palace on an island off Venice. Here Gioconda lives and here she has secretly brought her rival, Laura. She has also saved her lover’s life, but only that he may elope with this rival, while she must give herself to the hated Barnaba. Finally, to make matters still worse (if that is possible), she has lost her beloved blind mother. In fact, she has not seen her since Alvise’s frightful party. It is therefore no wonder that she sings, at the beginning of the act, her great scena—the Suicidio—in which she plans to commit suicide.
Off-stage are heard two gondoliers. “What’s the news?” cries one. “More corpses in the canal,” is the cheery answer.
Enzo comes on the weeping girl, demanding to know where Laura is; and when Gioconda says that she has had the body taken from the burial vault, Enzo almost stabs her in his rage. Gioconda would have welcomed the dagger; but at that moment Laura recovers from the effects of the
drug and rushes into Enzo’s arms. Off-stage is heard the serenade to which Laura had been ordered to commit suicide. This time it serves as the prelude to a dramatic trio. The lovers thank their lovelorn savior and then depart in a small boat that she had arranged to have ready complete with a crew of two.
Now the miserable Gioconda recalls her compact with Barnaba. She is about to flee from the place, when he comes himself demanding his prize. Yes, she says, she will honor the pact; but first she must decorate herself in her finest clothes. As she does so, she takes up her dagger—and stabs herself to the heart. The frustrated Barnaba shouts into her ear, “Yesterday your mother insulted me. I have drowned her!” But Gioconda—lucky for the first time in this opera-is beyond hearing this news, and Barnaba, in a wild rage, rushes out.
THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
(La fanciulla del West)
Opera in three acts by Giacomo Puccini with
libretto in Italian by Carlo Zangarini and
Guelfo Civinini based on the melodrama of the
same name by David Belasco
MINNIE, owner of “The Polka” Soprano
NICK, its bartender Tenor
JACK RANCE, the sheriff Baritone
RAMERREZ, ALIAS DICK JOHNSON, a bandit Tenor
ASHBY, agent of the Wells-Fargo Transport Co. Bass
miners
SONORA Baritone
TRIN Tenor
SID Baritone
HANDSOME Baritone
HARRY Tenor
JOE Tenor
HAPPY Baritone
LARKENS Bass
BILLY JACKRABBIT, an Indian Bass
WOWKLE, his squaw Mezzo-soprano
JAKE WALLACE, a traveling minstrel Baritone
JOSÉ CASTRO, a member of Ramerrez’s band Bass
Time: about 1850
Place: California
First performance at New York, December 10, 1910
On his first visit to the United States, in 1905, Puccini saw a performance of David Belasco’s horse opera The Girl of the Golden West and was fascinated by the old stage wizard’s tricks with moving scenery and an elaborate snowstorm. He was also fascinated by the rather simple-minded melodrama of playing poker for the stakes of a man’s life and a woman’s body. Finally, he was fascinated by the warmth of the reception that America accorded him.
But it was not till he had returned to Italy that he finally decided to make this play the vehicle for his next operatic score. He had his customary trouble hiring and firing librettists till he got just what he wanted, and he also had serious domestic trouble. His wife became hysterically jealous of a maidservant, accused her publicly of being Puccini’s mistress (which was not true), and drove the girl to suicide. There was a trial; Mme. Puccini was found guilty; the case was appealed, and then withdrawn by the girl’s family. The Puccinis were, however, both severely punished: they were separated for a long time, and the misery they went through left its mark on both of them.
Had not Puccini, years later, composed the scores of Gianni Schicchi and Turandot, one might conclude that this experience had broken his spirit and ended his career as a first-class opera composer. For The Girl, despite the brilliant success of its premiere, is a tired opera. It does have its dramatic moments—particularly during the poker-game scene-but it notably fails in the one virtue the composer claimed for it. “For this drama,” he said, “I have composed music that, I feel sure, reflects the spirit of the American people, and particularly the strong, vigorous nature of the West.” But it is almost all pure second-rate Italian opera, and when the Wild West dialogue intrudes (“Veils Fargo! Veils Fargo!” shout the cowboys in Act I), it is difficult not to laugh. Yet, it was revived in Chicago in 1956.
ACT I
The barroom of “The Polka” inn is a favorite spot for the roughnecks of the gold rush to whoop it up, and Minnie, its owner and presiding genius, has the practical assistance of a couple of Indians named Billy Jackrabbit and his squaw Wowkle (pronounced Vuffkleh in Italian). The opening local color includes a game of faro, in which one of the miners is almost strung up for cheating, and a Western ballad singer named Jake Wallace.
There is also Ashby, an agent of the Wells Fargo Transport Company, who says that he is on the lookout for a gang of robbers led by one Ramerrez. Rance, the sheriff and local big-shot, claims that he is going to marry Minnie; his claim is disputed by the others; there is a free-for-all; and it is Minnie herself who enforces peace at the point of a gun. Now the Wells-Fargo post arrives with a letter for Ashby telling him that Ramerrez will be in the neighborhood shortly. While Rance, with Italian passion but without success, pleads for Minnie’s love, a stranger named Dick Johnson comes in and immediately arouses the dislike of Rance. “Stranger, what’s your business?” he asks, sweeping Dick’s drink to the floor, and it is only Minnie’s intervention once more which saves Dick—for he, being the leading tenor, has immediately caught her fancy.
While Dick and Minnie are in the next room dancing, Castro, a captured member of the Ramerrez gang, comes in and promises to lead the boys to the hiding place in return for his own life. A moment later Dick returns, and Castro recognizes him as none other than Ramerrez himself. He manages to tell his boss that he has given away no secrets: the boys are merely waiting for the sheriff to go away before they raid the place.
When they all go off, Dick is left with Minnie, who is guarding all the gold for the miners. In the duet that closes the act Dick not only gives up his villainous project for the love of a good woman, but promises to defend her against any attack. Still not knowing the real identity of her new flame, she invites him to come up later and see her in her cabin.
ACT II
Up in Minnie’s room, Wowkle is singing a lullaby to her papoose and discussing with Billy the advisability of making it all legal. Their domestic discussion is interrupted by the boss-woman, who is getting ready to entertain Dick Johnson with a Western supper. The guest arrives; they discuss life; they decide Dick had better spend the night (in a separate bed) on account of the terrible snowstorm, when a gang of the boys interrupts. Dick, hiding behind a curtain, hears them tell Minnie that they have found out that Dick Johnson is Ramerrez himself; but she laughs at them and manages to shoo them out. Now she turns about and upbraids the bandit. He admits who he is; he pleads his sad history in extenuation (his father’s death left him no alternative in life if he was to support his dear old mother and the other kids); and he says that the sight of Minnie made him decide to turn over a new leaf. Thereupon he rushes out into the night—only to return a moment later, shot by Rance.
Quickly Minnie hides the wounded man in the loft, and, when Rance enters, insists that there is no one with her. Rance cannot find his quarry, but he harshly accuses Minnie of loving the bandit. As they argue, a drop of blood falls from the wounded man; he comes down the ladder and collapses; and Minnie tries one last desperate stratagem. Knowing Rance for an inveterate gambler, she suggests three hands of poker. If she wins, Dick goes free; if Rance wins, he can have Dick—and Minnie too. They play, and each wins one of the first two hands. Minnie’s last one, however, is weak; and while Rance is obligingly getting her a drink, she substitutes five cards from her stocking for the deal she got. Thus, when Rance shows with three kings, Minnie lays down a full house, aces high. The lovers are left alone.
ACT III
In a clearing among the giant redwoods of California, a gang of the boys is again hunting for Dick Johnson, who has been nursed back to health only to have to go on the lam once more. Twice there are false alarms of his having been caught; but at last one of the miners, Sonora, brings him in. A rope is prepared for him; everyone takes a turn at accusing him of various crimes; and he replies that he has always stopped short of murder. Finally, they allow him a last word, which turns out to be the one well-known aria from the opera, Ch’ella mi creda libero (“Let her believe me free”), in which he begs that Minnie should never know of his inglorious fate but be allowed to believe he may som
eday return to her.
Rance’s reply is to strike him in the face and prepare to pull the rope. But just at this moment in rides Minnie on a horse (if the leading lady is up to it) and brandishing her pistol. Hasn’t she always done everything for the miners? she pleads. And won’t they do one thing for her now: let off the man she loves so that he may begin a new life with her?
They do.
HÄNSEL UND GRETEL
Opera in three acts by Engelbert Humperdinck
with libretto in German by Adelheid Wette,
based on a fairy tale by Jakob and Wilhelm
Grimm
PETER, a broommaker Baritone
GERTRUDE, his wife Mezzo-soprano
their children
HÄNSEL Mezzo-soprano
GRETEL Soprano
THE WITCH Mezzo-soprano
THE SANDMAN Soprano
THE DEW MAN Soprano
Time: once upon a
Place: Germany
First performance at Weimar, December 23, 1893
For many years it has been a custom to perform this opera at Christmas time as a matinee for the kiddies, though why a tale which obviously must take place in summertime should be deemed especially appropriate for the winter is not entirely clear. Nor does its very skillful but heavily Wagnerian orchestration and harmonic elaboration strike one as well adapted for little children to love or appreciate. Yet the custom has been so long established, and so many generations of grownups think that they loved it when they were not grownups, that the tradition is beginning to fade only in the United States. Here, for better or worse, the moppets express their opinions more freely than elsewhere, and a Christmas-time consensus of those opinions (which has never been taken in a scientific way) would almost certainly give the palm to Mr. Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors. Its story is more appropriate—and you don’t have to sit still so long.
100 Great Operas and Their Stories Page 20