100 Great Operas and Their Stories

by Henry W. Simon

  William Tell was Rossini’s longest opera—and his last. Maybe it was the writing of so long a work (its original performance took over six hours) that discouraged him from writing more. At any rate, though William Tell was a great critical success, he did not write another opera although he lived almost forty years more, Rossini himself authorized a version that was cut from five to three acts, and for a while it was even customary, in Paris, to give Act II alone, with another opera to fill out the bill. The story goes that one time the director of the Opéra told the composer that Act II of William Tell was on the bill for that night. “What?” exclaimed the bitter Rossini. “All of it?”

  For many years it was customary to say that The Barber of Seville and William Tell were the only Rossini operas which had survived the composer many years in the repertoires of the great opera houses. Whether because of its length or because of the extremely demanding tenor role of Arnold, Tell can no longer be called “standard” repertoire, while other Rossini operas, like La cenerentola and The Italian in Algiers, are being revived with greater frequency. The fact is that The Barber has by far the best libretto of the lot The William Tell story is serviceable enough, but little better than that.

  In several countries, during the politically sensitive 1830’s, it was regarded as dangerously revolutionary. Accordingly, the libretto was revised, and in Milan the opera was called Guglielmo Vallace (that is, the Scottish William Wallace), in Rome Rodolfo di Sterlinga, in London and Berlin Andreas Hofer, and in St. Petersburg Karl Smily (Charles the Bold). It seems odd that the censors should have been more frightened of the name of an almost completely mythical revolutionary than of some real ones. But many things that censors do seem odd.

  OVERTURE

  The overture to William Tell is the best-known piece of orchestral music ever to come out of an opera, rivaled, perhaps, only by the Intermezzo from Cavalleria rusticana. It has survived in the affections of the public—and perhaps even grown in those affections—the satirical use of it in Disney’s animated cartoons and as the theme of the Lone Ranger. It begins, boldly, with a quintet for five solo cellos; a soft roll on the kettledrums introduces one of Rossini’s pet storms, including realistic raindrops spattered from the piccolo; then comes a pastoral section based on a Swiss alphorn melody played on the French horn; and eventually, after a brilliant fanfare of trumpets, comes the familiar galop, which retains its excitement when well played despite the many humorous associations, polite and impolite, that have been attached to it.

  ACT I

  The story concerns the legendary activities of a legendary fourteenth-century Swiss patriot. The country is under the heel of the Austrian Governor, Gessler, who has shown himself to be a tyrant. High up in the Alps, in Tell’s native village, the Swiss are celebrating a traditional festival. The old shepherd Melcthal is to give his blessing to three couples who wish to be married. Two serious voices are slightly out of tune with the happy occasion. One is that of Tell, who bemoans the fate of his country, the other that of Arnold, son of Melcthal, who is involved in a dangerous love affair.

  There is a long duet in which Tell urges Arnold to fight for his country, but Arnold at first hesitates as his beloved is Mathilde, daughter of Gessler. Occasionally there is heard the sound of hunting horns—an indication that Gessler’s men are in the neighborhood, hunting.

  Now the festivities are resumed. There is first a ballet, and in the ensuing games Tell’s young son Jemmy distinguishes himself by being a good shot, just as his father is. The celebration is interrupted by Leuthold, a Swiss fugitive from Gessler’s men, running in. Tell saves him by spiriting him away on a boat despite great danger on the lake.

  When Gessler’s men, headed by Rudolph, arrive, no one will tell them who aided in the escape, and in revenge they seize upon old Melcthal and drag him off.

  ACT II

  The second act begins with a recitative and the brilliant coloratura aria Sombre forêt sung by Mathilde, daughter of the Austrian tyrant Gessler, in which she admits her love for Arnold. He meets her in the Alpine clearing in a forest where she waits, and a fine love duet ensues. Mathilde leaves hastily when she hears the approach of William Tell and Walter Fürst. These men have come to persuade Arnold to join than in an uprising against Gessler, but they are suspicious of him because of his meeting with Mathilde. Presently, however, they give him some bad news: Gessler has had Arnold’s old father, the shepherd Melcthal, executed. Now there is no longer any hesitation on Arnold’s part, and at the close of the fine trio the three men swear to deliver their country from its oppression.

  One by one, trusted groups of men arrive from the Swiss cantons of Unterwaiden, Schwitz, and Uri. Tell delivers a dramatic address, and a solemn patriotic oath is taken by all present as the act ends.

  ACT III

  In the market place of the village of Altdorf, the tyrant Gessler has put up the Austrian coat-of-arms and his own hat for every Swiss to bow before. William Tell refuses to bow, and he and his son are at once arrested. Gessler says that Tell must demonstrate his vaunted skill with bow and arrow by shooting an apple off his son’s head, and when Tell refuses, Gessler orders the boy to be executed. Now Tell has no choice. The boy. Jemmy, fearlessly expresses complete confidence in Tell’s skill, and cheers go up as the arrow splits the apple in two.

  But a second arrow falls from Tell’s coat; and when Gessler demands to know what that is for, the patriot tells him it would have been for Gessler’s own heart if the boy had been hurt. Greatly incensed, Gessler orders the arrest of Tell, but before our hero is dragged off, he manages to send his wife a message through his son. Tell Hedwige, says William, that the lighting of mountain beacons will be the signal for the uprising of the cantons. Gessler’s own daughter, Mathilde, flees from the spot with little Jemmy, to deliver the message.

  ACT IV

  Scene 1 is largely taken up by an aria sung by Arnold. He has returned home, and his father’s death at the hands of Gessler continues to haunt him. A group of Swiss patriots reports to him the arrest of William Tell, and, finally roused to action, he leads the men off to rescue their leader.

  Scene 2 takes place on a rocky spot off the Lake of the Four Cantons and near Tell’s own home. Jemmy, accompanied by Mathilde, rushes in to his mother, Hedwige. The little boy is hopeful that Tell will escape despite the storm that is brewing, when suddenly he remembers his father’s message. He himself sets fire to his father’s house as a signal for the cantons to rise. As the storm develops, they all pray for Tell’s deliverance, and suddenly the hero appears, jumping from a boat. Close behind him come his pursuers, including Gessler. But Tell seizes his bow and arrow from Jemmy, who has rescued them from the burning house. Tell takes careful aim and, with a cry, Gessler tumbles headlong into the lake. At that moment a party of Swiss patriots, led by young Arnold, comes in to announce the taking of Gessler’s headquarters in Altdorf. The opera closes with rejoicing on the part of every surviving Swiss member of the dramatis personae.

  * Originally in five acts, later reduced to three by omission of the third and condensation of the last two acts. Current practice is to restore Act III and retain the condensation, thus making four acts.

  WOZZECK

  Opera in three acts by Alban Berg with libretto

  in German by the composer, based on a play of

  the same name by Georg Büchner

  WOZZECK, a soldier Baritone

  MARIE, his mistress Soprano

  THEIR CHILD Boy soprano

  ANDRES, a friend of Wozzeck’s Tenor

  MARGRET, a neighbor Contralto

  THE CAPTAIN Tenor

  THE DOCTOR Bass

  THE DRUM MAJOR Tenor

  FIRST AND SECOND WORKMEN Baritone and Bass

  A FOOL Tenor

  Time: about 1835

  Place: Germany

  First performance at Berlin, December 14, 1925

  Alban Berg, the most distinguished disciple of Arnold Schönberg, died at the age of fifty in hi
s native Vienna. The date was 1935. Usually I have not included such vital statistics about composers in my introductory comments, but this time I think they are important. For—to me, at least—Berg and his operas Wozzeck and Lulu epitomize one aspect of a certain time and place. Wozzeck was conceived during World War I; its composition was completed immediately after that war; and it received its first stage performance, in Berlin, in 1925. It deeply stirred all of Middle Europe of that period. And that period was the period of Dr. Sigmund Freud, the period of Franz Kafka, the period of the rise of National Socialism. In music it was the period that saw the most violent breakdown of old ideas of melody—and, even more, of harmony. It was revolutionary, it was intellectually curious, it was unstable, and it reflected the sickness of the German soul.

  Berg wrote his own libretto for Wozzeck, basing it on a hundred-year-old play written by a strange, youthful genius named Georg Büchner. It deals with the psychological torture and breakdown of a dull-witted militiaman named Johann Franz Wozzeck and with the tragic fate of his mistress and their illegitimate child. Charming theme, isn’t it? And, possibly excepting these three unfortunates, there is scarcely one amiable person in the whole cast. Nevertheless, its entry into the Metropolitan Opera repertory in 1959 was a surprise popular success.

  ACT I

  Scene 1 finds Wozzeck shaving his captain, for whom he is a personal servant, while the captain philosophizes in a mildly idiotic way. (The part is written for a very high tenor voice.) Wozzeck answers at first stupidly, mechanically Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann—“Certainly, Captain,”—but finally he comes out with an incoherent complaint about his poverty.

  Scene 2 Wozzeck shares this scene with another high tenor—his companion-in-arms, Andres. Andres is inclined to be cheerful, but Wozzeck imagines he sees various supernatural things in the field where they are working.

  Scene 3 In her room Marie, Wozzeck’s mistress, is playing with their child. She sees a parade of soldiers passing and admires the Drum Major; she is jeered at by a neighbor, Margret, for her easy virtue; she sings a lullaby to the child. When Wozzeck passes by, he frightens her with an account of the supernatural things he thinks he has seen. Something dreadful, he feels, is going to happen.

  Scene 4 Next day, in the regimental doctor’s office, Wozzeck is being examined. The Doctor is a kind of amateur psychiatrist—not to say a bit of a sadist. This crazy, incompetent man implants the idea in Wozzeck’s mind that he is bad, that he may be going crazy. As the scene ends, he boasts to himself that he will become famous through what he is doing to poor Wozzeck.

  Scene 5 Marie meets the Drum Major in the street. He is a handsome fellow, she notes. He agrees. He starts to make love to her. It is a quick conquest—and they disappear into her house.

  ACT II

  Scene 1 Marie preens herself on the pair of earrings that the Drum Major has given her. When Wozzeck enters, he notes the new earrings and is suspicious. Yet he is still upset in his mind about other things, and he is sorry for the child, who lies asleep with a slight fever. Almost absent-mindedly he gives Marie his wages. When he has left, she scolds herself for her wickedness.

  Scene 2 In the street the Captain meets the Doctor, who frightens his friend by telling him he looks bad. “You might find yourself partially paralyzed, one day,” he remarks unsympathetically. But a better target for his malice passes by. It is poor Wozzeck. The two officers make unmistakable references to Marie’s unfaithfulness, and the Doctor suggests that Wozzeck is also pretty sick.

  Scene 3 Encountering Marie in the street, Wozzeck accuses her in wild terms. She begs him not to hit her. Rather, she cries, she would prefer a knife in her heart. And as she runs off, Wozzeck repeats her phrase mutteringly: “Rather a knife …”

  Scene 4 At the beer garden everyone is in high spirits and slightly boozy. Wozzeck joins the crowd, sees Marie dancing with the Drum Major, and is about to attack him. But the dance stops, and a soldier begins a drunken song. Someone else delivers a crazy sermon. A fool starts talking to Wozzeck. And as he sits there listening, his feeble brain seems to weaken even more.

  Scene 5 Wozzeck is moaning in his sleep, in the barracks. Andres awakens and hears him talk about a knife blade. Then, enter the Drum Major, who boasts about his conquests. Wozzeck, maddened by jealousy, attacks him. But the Drum Major is a big fellow, and Wozzeck is badly beaten up. Having done his job, the Drum Major leaves. The other soldiers heartlessly shrug their shoulders, turn around, and go to sleep.

  ACT III

  Scene 1 is entirely Marie’s. She is alone with her child and full of guilt. She reads from the Bible, first the story of the woman taken in adultery and then the story of Mary Magdalene. And she prays to God for mercy.

  Scene 2 takes us to a pool in the forest outside the town at night, where Wozzeck is with Marie. He makes her sit beside him; he kisses her; and he mutters earnestly of love. Then he whispers mysteriously to himself, and there is a long silence. Suddenly Marie notices that the moon is red. “Like a blood-red iron,” says Wozzeck, and he draws out his knife. Terrified, Marie tries to escape. But he madly plunges the knife deep into her throat; and when she is dead, he rushes away.

  Scene 3 It is to a tavern that he rushes. More than half drunk, he sings madly, and dances with Margret, Marie’s neighbor. Suddenly she notices blood on his hand, and she cries out. Everyone crowds around and sees the blood, but Wozzeck runs out as fast as he can.

  Scene 4 Back he rushes to the scene of his murder. He must get rid of his bloody knife, and when he finds it, he flings it into the pool. But then he fears it may be found after all and the blame pinned on him. Completely befuddled, he wades deep into the pool. He fishes for the knife with his hands; he topples over; and he drowns. The Doctor and the Captain, passing by, think they hear a noise. But they decide it was only the lapping of the water, and they leave the ghostly night scene.

  Scene 5 It is bright sunshine the next morning, and outside of Marie’s house children are playing ring-around-a-rosy. Among them is Marie’s little boy. Another group of children comes in, bursting with news. One of them shouts to the little boy: “Hey, your mother is dead!” But the child does not hear. He is playing horse. And when the others rush off to see the body, which has been discovered near the pool, the child just goes on riding his hobbyhorse. “Hop-hop, hop-hop!” he cries.

  CHRONOLOGY

  For anyone who wishes to use this volume as a survey of the subject of opera, the works described are indexed below, grouped by composers, in the order of the births of the composers. Reading, in this order, merely the introduction to each of the works will serve either as an informal history of the subject or as a supplement to formal studies such as Donald Jay Grout’s A Short History of Opera, in two volumes, or the one-volume The Opera: 1600–1941, by Wallace Brockway and Herbert Weinstock.

  Claudio Monteverdi (1567–1643)

  La favola (d’Orfeo (1607), 169

  Henry Purcell (1659–95)

  Dido and Aeneas (1689), 116

  George Frederick Handel (1685–1759)

  Giulio Cesare (1724), 236

  Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710–36)

  La serva padrona (1733), 467

  Christoph Willibald von Gluck (1714–87)

  Orfeo ed Euridice (1762), 353

  Alceste (1767), 31

  Domenico Cimarosa (1749–1801)

  Il matrimonio segreto (1792), 315

  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–91)

  Bastien und Bastienne (1768), 66

  Die Entführung aus dem Serail (1782), 11

  Le nozze di Figaro (1786), 295

  Don Giovanni (1787), 124

  Così fan tutte (1790), 110

  Die Zauberflöte (1791), 275

  Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)

  Fidelio (1805) 175

  Carl Maria von Weber (1786–1826)

  Der Freischütz (1821), 200

  Oberon (1826), 346

  Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791–1864)

  Les Hugu
enots (1836), 226

  L’Africaine (1865), 15

  Gioacchino Antonio Rossini (1792–1868)

  Il barbiere di Siviglia (1816), 55

  La Cenerentola (1817), 95

  Guillaume Tell (1829), 539

  Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848)

  L’Elisir d’amore (1832), 140

  Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), 265

  Don Pasquale (1843), 131

  Vincenzo Bellini (1801–35)

  Norma (1831), 341

  I Puritani (1835), 395

  Hector Berlioz (1803–69)

  Les Troyens (1863, Part II only), 525

  Ambroise Thomas (1811–96)

  Mignon (1866), 336

  Friedrich von Flotow (1812–83)

  Marta (1847), 302

  Richard Wagner (1813–83)

  Der fliegende Holländer (1843), 187

  Tannhäuser (1845), 490

  Lohengrin (1850), 246

  Tristan und Isolde (1865), 514

  Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (1868), 329

  Das Rheingold (1869), 412

  Die Walküre (1870), 418

  Siegfried (1876), 425

  Die Götterdämmerung (1876), 433

  Parsifal (1882), 366

  Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901)

  Ernani (1844), 144

  Rigoletto (1851), 405

  Il trovatore (1853), 520

  La traviata (1853), 508

  Simon Boccanegra (1857), 471

  Un ballo in maschera (1859), 308

  La forza del destino (1862), 191

  Don Carlos (1867), 119

  Aïdd (1871), 24

  Otello (1887), 357

  Falstaff (1893), 156

  Charles François Gounod (1818–93)

  Faust (1859), 162

  Roméo et Juliette (1867), 441

  Jacques Offenbach (1819–80)