Scene 2 As the orchestra spins out a bright web of significant themes, clouds cover the foreground of the stage, and when they have disappeared, we are once more on the spot where Wotan had put Brünnhilde to sleep at the end of Die Walküre. Siegfried climbs down the mountainside, first seeing Brünnhilde’s horse, Grane, and then the sleeping girl herself. As she is clothed in armor, her visor down, he takes her to be a man; and even when he lifts the helmet and her bright, yellow hair falls out, he is not enlightened. We must remember that he had probably never before seen a human female in his life. Finally, noting that the “warrior” is breathing heavily, he cuts off the breastplate, staggers back, and cries, “That is no man!” A completely new emotion surges through him; he calls upon his mother for help; he imagines that for the first time he is experiencing fear. But he does know, now, that it is a woman he sees, and his instinct prompts him to implant a long and ardent kiss upon her lips.
This finally awakens Brünnhilde from a sleep that had begun before Siegfried was born. Her first reaction is one of joy at seeing the sun. It is not long, however, before she knows who Siegfried must be. She greets him by name; she tells him of how she had known him and loved him even before his birth; and in the long duet that constitutes the balance of the scene many emotions are gone through. Siegfried’s are understandably simple: he is proud of his accomplishment, and he longs to embrace Brünnhilde. Her emotions are rather more complex, for she realizes that now she is no longer a goddess, that no god had ever touched her, and that her rescuer is a mortal, or at best a demigod. At the same time she is deeply attracted to the handsome young fellow (who is her nephew, though that does not cross the mind of either of them); and though she seems to know somehow that the reign of the gods is doomed, she welcomes a life that promises a glowing love and a laughing death. The opera ends as their voices join in a passionate acceptance of their love and their fate.
DIE GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG
(The Twilight of the Gods)
Opera in prologue and three acts by Richard
Wagner with libretto in German by the composer
daughters of Erda
FIRST NORN Contralto
SECOND NORN Mezzo-soprano
THIRD NORN Soprano
SIEGFRIED, grandson of Wotan Tenor
BRÜNNHILDE, daughter of Wotan Soprano
Gibichungs
GUNTHER
GUTRUNE Bass Soprano
HAGEN, their half brother Bass
WALTRAUTE, a Valkyrie Mezzo-soprano
ALBERICH, a Nibelung Baritone
Time: mythological
Place: Germany
First performance at Bayreuth, April 17, 1876
It will be recalled that one of the bits of gossip retailed to Brünnhilde by her father during Act II of Die Walküre was that Alberich had bribed a mortal woman to bear him a child. This child, an almost exact contemporary of Siegfried’s, grew up to be a saturnine young fellow named Hagen. His mother was Grimhilde, wife of a respectable Teutonic chieftain named Gibich, and she also had two legitimate children named Gunther and Gutrune. When Die Götterdämmerung begins, Gunther is King of the Gibichungs, and Gutrune and Hagen live with him. None of the three is married.
PROLOGUE
It is night, and still so dark that the unwarned spectator does not know till much later that the scene is Brünnhilde’s rock, where she was left by Wotan and found by Siegfried. The three Norns (who roughly correspond in Norse mythology to the three Fates or Parcae of Greek and Roman myth) sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the deaths of gods. One of them tells how Wotan many years ago had traded an eye for a drink of the well of wisdom. Now Wotan, who is always represented as missing one eye, had told Fricka, during the course of their Rheingold argument, that he had lost it in wooing her. Whether this inconsistency is owing to forgetfulness on Wagner’s part or whether it is a subtle reminder that the ruler of the gods was not above telling a fib when arguing with a lady, no one exactly knows. Either explanation will do.
Wotan, we also learn, had fashioned his spear from a branch of the world tree (i.e., Yggdrasill’s ash). Since then the ash has shriveled and the well of wisdom dried up; Wotan has had the Valhalla heroes pile up the boughs of the tree around the fortress of the gods; and heroes and gods now sit in Valhalla, in state, waiting for a fire to consume both them and it. All the time the Norns relate this dismal tale, they are passing a golden rope to each other. But when they ask each other how soon the fire will start and what will become of Alberich’s gold, the rope suddenly breaks. Frightened, they tie themselves together with the pieces and run off crying: “To mother!”
This mysterious and somewhat mystifying scene prepares one for the final catastrophe in Act III; but as it is not strictly necessary dramatically and as the opera is extremely long, it is often omitted.
During an orchestral interlude day breaks, and we soon behold Siegfried and Brünnhilde issuing from the cave. They have exchanged pledges of love; he has learned wisdom from her; and now he is being sent forth to do great deeds. Before he goes, however, he gives her his Ring to guard her, and she gives him Grane, her horse, to ride. After a heroic farewell, he starts down the mountainside; she looks after him for a while; and the curtain descends as the orchestra plays the eloquent music of Siegfried’s Rhine Journey, a glorious tissue of many of the most significant motives of the Ring.
ACT I
Scene 1 The hall of the Gibichungs is an airy place, and through the back of it may be seen the river Rhine. Hagen, obviously a more intelligent, determined, and capable being than either of his half siblings, is offering some family advice and a rather tricky plan. It is time for both of them to get married, he says, and he thinks it can be arranged. Brünnhilde is the noblest woman in the world and would make Gunther a fine wife. Unfortunately, she can be won only by a hero who will fight his way through fire, and Gunther is not quite up to that. Siegfried, however, is. Now, if Siegfried could be got to fall in love with Gutrune (and what a fine match that would be!), he might be persuaded to win Brünnhilde to please a brother-in-law. And to get Siegfried attracted to Gutrune, all that may be necessary is a magical potion which is in the wine closet and which will make Siegfried forget Brünnhilde. Gunther, far from being shocked by Hagen’s underhanded scheming, thanks his mother’s memory for having produced such a bastard. As for Gutrune, she can barely wait to see a hero like Siegfried.
Nor does she have long to wait. Siegfried comes sailing down the Rhine in a boat (just where he got it is not made clear, and so most impresarios do not go to the expense of supplying it), and steps into the Gibichung hall. He is most cordially welcomed by the family; and Hagen, in the course of the Gibichung equivalent of small talk, elicits the interesting information from Siegfried that the only portions of Fafner’s gold hoard he had taken were the Tarnhelm, which he has in his belt, and the Ring, which he has given to a woman. (“Brünnhilde!” cries the villain Hagen, aside.)
Gutrune, who was immediately covered with girlish wonder on sight of the handsome hero and had retired in confusion, returns with the drink of welcome, the one with the power of making its drinker forget everything; and as soon as Siegfried has drunk it, he falls spang in love with the girl. (Siegfried’s easy susceptibility to women makes even Romeo look like a laggard.) He proposes for her at once, and a pact is made whereby he is to win Brünnhilde for Gunther in exchange for Gutrune. The pure and simple hero can no longer recall his recent “marriage.” A solemn oath of blood friendship is sworn; Gunther and Siegfried cut their arms with their swords and let some blood drop into a horn; and both drink. Hagen, however, refuses to join in the oath: he says his nature is not so noble as theirs and his blood would poison the drink.
They waste no time. Gunther and Siegfried depart in the boat on their marital mission; Gutrune is enraptured with the idea of her own impending marriage; and Hagen sits down before the door of the house, on guard with spear and shield, muttering to himself about the Ring, and how he will get it
through the agency of this merry team of wooers.
Scene 2 During an orchestral interlude the scene changes back to Brünnhilde’s rock, where the ex-Valkyrie is admiring the Ring and covering it with kisses. Suddenly she hears a sound she had not heard in some twenty years—the wild riding of one of her sister Valkyries. It is Waltraute who arrives, bearing sinister tidings of Valhalla. In a long passage known as Waltraute’s Narrative, she tells of the doom that seems to be preparing for the gods and of a remark of Wotan’s, made during a dream, to the effect that only the return of the Ring to the Rhinemaidens will lift the curse. On her own initiative Waltraute has made this journey to beg Brünnhilde to avert the doom of the gods by returning the bauble. But Brünnhilde is utterly devoted to Siegfried: she would rather have Valhalla fall into ruins than give up this pledge of love. Waltraute utters a despairing cry and dashes away.
Evening begins to fall, and the surrounding fires grow brighter. Suddenly a frightening figure looms before Brünnhilde. It is Siegfried, but by the magic of the Tarnhelm, he has taken on the form of Gunther and also his lower voice. He announces that he has come to make her his bride, he, Gunther, the Gibichung. Desperately Brünnhilde tries to defend herself, holding out the Ring in the thought that its power will save her. But the Ring has no power over Siegfried. He chases her across the stage; he seizes her with violence; he roughly tears the Ring from her finger; and when she falls utterly exhausted into his arms, he takes her toward the cave. But before he follows her into it, he draws out his sword and swears, by his oath of brotherhood, to lay it between himself and Gunther’s bride.
ACT II
Outside the hall of the Gibichungs, with the flowing Rhine on one side of the stage and the entrance to the hall on the other, sits Hagen, still on guard, and apparently half asleep. Through the night slinks his father, Alberich. He tells him of the absolute necessity to get hold of the Ring before Brünnhilde gives it back to the Rhinemaidens. Hagen, in his own gruff way, tells his father not to worry: he will lay hands on it, all right.
With Alberich gone, the sun begins to rise, and Siegfried comes out of a clump of bushes by the riverside, now once more unmistakably himself. Hagen summons his half sister, and Siegfried reports the success of his expedition, omitting the wrestling with the bride but including his exemplary behavior in the cave. The rest of the party is sighted coming along in a boat, and Hagen summons all the vassals to help celebrate the wedding. Their rough, joyful chorus is the only choral passage in the entire Ring.
But when Brünnhilde arrives with Hagen and sees not only Siegfried but the Ring on his finger, she becomes wild with anger and despair. She cries that Siegfried, not Gunther, is her husband; that Gunther, if he is her husband, should take the Ring; and finally that Siegfried’s sword did not lie between them when he won her, but that it hung in its sheath on the wall. Finally, when she has succeeded in filling the Gibichungs with doubt as to Siegfried’s honorable behavior, he swears a mighty oath on Hagen’s spear, offering up his life on that very spear if Brünnhilde’s accusation is true. But Brünnhilde steps forward too and swears in the same solemn notes that Siegfried is forsworn; and she goes on to bless the point of the spear so that it may sink into “that man.”
Siegfried, honestly bewildered, suggests that Brünnhilde be given time to compose herself, and with all the grace he can summon, he takes Gutrune into the hall to prepare for the wedding. Brünnhilde, Gunther, and Hagen are left alone, and the last develops plans for getting rid of Siegfried. He learns from Brünnhilde that the hero is impregnable in battle, but his back is vulnerable. In giving him this supernatural protection, as she had done, she felt confident that he would never turn his back on an enemy. Gunther has some initial compunctions about murdering Siegfried, both on account of the oath of blood-brotherhood (which Hagen points out has already been broken) and on account of Gutrune’s possible reaction. Thereupon Hagen suggests that Siegfried be murdered the next day on a hunt and that Gutrune be told it was a boar that did it.
Barely is the plan agreed to by all three when the wedding procession begins to issue from the hall. Gunther takes Brünnhilde by the hand to join it, and Hagen remains alone outside, no member of the wedding.
ACT III
Scene 1 In a mountain-ringed valley of the Rhine, the three Rhinemaidens sing sweetly about their lost gold and the hero who they hope will give it back. And speaking of the devil, in comes Siegfried, who has wandered away from the hunting despite the identifying horn calls that have been sounding back and forth. First by teasing and then by warning him of the curse that falls on the possessor of the Ring, they try to get it from him. Good-naturedly he laughs at their warnings, telling them how he got it in the first place and also that he has not yet learned the meaning of fear. When they have swum away, giving him up as a bad job, he looks after them admiringly, thinking that if it weren’t for Gutrune, he wouldn’t mind having one of the charming creatures for himself.
There the rest of the hunting party finds him. Gunther’s conscience is apparently bothering him, and, to cheer him up, Siegfried amiably tells the party of his childhood with Mime and the affair of Fafner, the dragon. In the midst of his recital Hagen offers him a drink, which restores the memory he had lost before the expedition to Brünnhilde’s rock. He then goes on to tell how he originally won Brünnhilde. At this, Gunther starts up in amazement. Hagen points out two black ravens who are circling over Siegfried’s head and asks whether he can understand their language. As the hero turns to look after the birds, Hagen thrusts his spear deep into his back. Siegfried turns and tries to crush Hagen with his shield, but he falls back upon it himself. With his dying breath he calls upon Brünnhilde, the heavenly bride who beckons him now. As for Hagen, with a contemptuous “I have avenged perjury” he stalks off.
With night falling, the vassals take up Siegfried’s body on his shield and begin to carry it off. The moon breaks through the clouds; mists rise from the Rhine and cover the stage; and while the scene is changed, the orchestra plays the grand, gruff, and moving Siegfried’s Funeral March.
Scene 2 Back in the Gibichungs’ hall, Gutrune, uneasy, comes from her room and meets Hagen. He is in time to tell her of the procession that is bringing her back her husband, victim, he says, of a wild boar. When the body is brought in, Gutrune, in an agony of grief, throws herself upon it and denounces Gunther. Her brother, however, tells her that Hagen was the boar who destroyed the hero. Hagen admits it, justifies himself, and claims the Ring. This precipitates a most unseemly fight between the two half brothers, which ends with Hagen striking Gunther dead. He turns then to seize the Ring, when the dead arm of Siegfried raises itself menacingly, and they all recoil in horror.
At this moment Brünnhilde enters the hall and commands peace. She now understands what has happened, and she shows generous pity for Gutrune, who huddles over the body of her brother. Then she orders a huge funeral pyre to be built by the side of the river to consume the greatest of heroes. For a while she stands and muses on the face of Siegfried, and then, in a long solo, often performed at orchestral concerts, she sings of the tragic ending of Wotan’s plans; she seizes the Ring; and she takes a firebrand and addresses the two ravens who fly overhead: Let them know that at last the twilight of the gods is come. Then she throws the flame onto the pyre; the ravens fly off; and, mounting her horse, Grane, she rides directly into it.
The fire blazes up and begins to consume the whole hall; the river Rhine rises in back; the Rhinemaidens appear. Hagen, suddenly rousing himself, jumps into the river after the Ring which the Rhinemaidens have seized; but Flosshüde bears it away, while the other two twine their arms around Hagen’s neck and drag him down into the depths.
Meantime, the fire from the burning hall of the Gibichungs has reached up into the clouds, and by its light one can see the gods and heroes sitting in Valhalla. The flames catch on there too; and as they cover it, the full orchestra softly sings the motive of Redemption by Love. The whole world, Wagner seems to say, shall
have a new birth, a new order, through Brünnhilde’s noble love.
ROMEO AND JULIET
(Roméo et Juliette)
Opera in five acts by Charles Gounod with libretto
in French by Jules Barbier and Michel
Carré, based on Shakespeare’s play
COUNT CAPULET Bass
JULIET, his daughter Soprano
GERTRUDE, her nurse Mezzo-soprano
TYBALT, Capulet’s nephew Tenor
GREGORY, a Capulet Baritone
ROMEO, a Montague Tenor
MERCUTIO, another Baritone
BENVOLIO, another Tenor
STEPHANO, Romeo’s page Soprano
THE DUKE OF VERONA Bass
COUNT PARIS, engaged to Juliet Baritone
FRIAR LAWRENCE Bass
Time: 14th century
Place: Verona
First performance at Paris, April 27, 1867
Of all the masterpieces of literature on which the team of Barbier & Carré, libretto manufacturers extraordinary, operated, the one they treated with greatest respect was Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Though the scenario is considerably condensed, especially in Act I, and though the low-comedy servant Peter is omitted and a charming page boy named Stephano substituted, the outlines of the story are faithfully followed, the principal characters retain their Shakespearean vitality, and even many of the lines are directly translated or at least paraphrased. One major concession to operatic requirements these industrious workmen did have to make: they permitted Juliet to awaken soon enough to indulge in a duet with Romeo before he died of his poison. But even here there was the justification of literary history: Brooke, the author of the poem that was one of Shakespeare’s principal sources, had done the same thing.
100 Great Operas and Their Stories Page 41