Der Freischütz, by Carl Maria von Weber: a summary of the plot

Carl Maria von Weber was born in Eutin (in what is now northern Germany) on 18th November 1786 and died in London (during a visit) on 5th June 1826. He is best known today for a handful of operas, including Der Freischütz and Oberon, his second clarinet concerto, which is one of the finest works in the clarinet repertoire, and the orchestral "Invitation to the Dance". A contemporary of Beethoven and Schubert, he was one of the progenitors of the Romantic movement in European music.

Der Freischütz dates from 1821, when "Gothic" was all the rage. This was the age of Frankenstein and the sort of nonsense that Jane Austen satirised so brilliantly in "Northanger Abbey". Before the days of Stephen King and "Friday the 13th", this was the sort of thing that made the flesh creep.

Act 1. The estate of Ottakar, Duke of Bohemia

A new head ranger must be chosen, because Kuno is ready to retire. The candidates are Kilian, a peasant, and Max, who is in love with Agnes, Kuno's daughter. The usual application and interviewing procedure has been set aside, and the winner will be chosen courtesy of a sharp-shooting contest. Max is disappointed to find that Kilian is proving to be the better shot.

Caspar, who has sold his soul to the Devil, as one does, promises Max that he can supply him with magic bullets that cannot possibly miss. Caspar invites Max to try his own gun, with which he brings down a high-flying eagle. Max is convinced, and agrees to buy seven magic bullets for the going rate, namely his soul. The deal will be struck in the Wolf's Glen at midnight.

Act 2, Scene 1. Agnes's room

A bit of time-shifting goes on here, because this scene takes place at the same time as Max's meeting with Caspar. Agnes is very worried about the shooting contest, because she has met a hermit in the forest who has warned her that all is not well. She and her friend Anna are startled when a portrait falls off the wall at the same instant that Max tries Caspar's magic bullet. Max then arrives to tell her that he has an appointment at the Wolf's Glen.

Scene 2. The Wolf's Glen

Given all the build-up, this has to be worth waiting for, and it is! Caspar is in conversation with Zamiel, an evil spirit, and boasts that he has found a new soul-seller. Caspar hopes that this deal will be enough to save him from his own fate. When Max arrives, the bullets are cast one by one. However, what Max does not know is that, although six of the bullets will work as he wishes, the seventh is the Devil's bullet which will hit whatever target Zamiel desires.

Act 3, Scene 1. Agnes's room

Agnes is preparing for her wedding with Max, but her sense of foreboding is reinforced when she finds that the florist has apparently made a terrible mistake and sent a funeral wreath instead of a bridal bouquet. Well, it's not the best of omens, is it? It's enough to give any girl a nasty turn. Fortunately, the hermit she met in the woods has not forgotten her, and has sent a proper bridal wreath. Keep an eye on it, as it could just come in handy later on.

Scene 2. In the Duke's forest

The sharp-shooting contest is in progress, and Max is astonishing all the onlookers by his skill. He has fired six of his bullets and only has one left (the Devil's bullet, remember?). The Duke orders him to shoot at a dove that is flying overhead. Max does so, but Agnes, in her wedding finery, screams and falls to the ground. However, all is not lost, because she has only fainted and recovers quickly. Why is this so, you may well ask? Or you won't, because this is the world of opera and you haven't forgotten about the hermit's wreath, have you? Needless to say, the hermit's blessing is stronger than the power of the Devil and the bullet has been turned aside. Good job she remembered to bring the wreath with her to the shooting match.

Zamiel, cheated of his prey, now seizes on Caspar and takes him off to Hell. The Duke learns the full story from Max, who confesses everything. His punishment is that he must wait a year for both the job and his bride. So the wedding's off. Personally, I feel sorry for young Kilian, who didn't cheat and doesn't get the job either (the assumption is that Kuno will carry on for another year). I reckon he's got a good case for an industrial tribunal, myself.

© John Welford

The Barber of Seville, by Gioacchino Rossini: a summary of the plot

Gioacchino Rossini was born on 29th February 1792, and thus only had a birthday once every four years! He wrote 40 operas between 1810 and 1829, after which he retired from composing operas for the remaining 39 years of his life before his death on 13th November 1868.

The Barber of Seville is probably Rossini's best-known and most often performed opera. It is also an early example of a "prequel" in that it tells of the events that preceded those of Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro", which had been first performed almost exactly 30 years before Rossini's masterpiece appeared in February 1816.

Not surprisingly, the two operas have the same source, namely the trilogy of "Figaro" plays by Pierre Beaumarchais (1732-1799). However, whereas Mozart based his opera on the second play, Rossini chose the first. Again not surprisingly, both operas are light pieces of comic nonsense, with brilliant music that captures the mood of romantic dalliance, farcical plot twists, and a happy ending for most of the characters.

Rossini took less than three weeks to write this opera, which is one reason why the music is so fresh and sparkling throughout. However, part of the speed is accounted for by the fact that he chose not to write a new overture, simply re-using one that he had used twice before!

Act 1. Scene 1. A street in Seville

Count Almaviva, who is in love with Rosina, the ward of Dr Bartolo, sings a serenade beneath her balcony. He is found there by Figaro, the town barber who was previously in service to the Count, and is recruited to aid him in his quest. (As he enters, Figaro sings the famous "largo al factotum" to introduce himself and boast of how much in demand he is). Rosina appears on the balcony. She is not unhappy about being wooed by the Count, but she is very unhappy with how she is being treated by Bartolo, who is a tyrant with designs on her property. When she leaves, Figaro suggests that a way to gain access to the house would be for the Count to disguise himself as a soldier, supposedly seeking billets for troops. The Count is happy to pay Figaro for his advice.

Scene 2. In Dr Bartolo's house

Rosina sings of her wish to lead her guardian a merry dance, just as Bartolo enters. He has his own plan for marrying his ward, for which he needs the help of Basilio, the music teacher. When Figaro enters, Rosina hands him a letter to be delivered to the Count, but Bartolo is suspicious of what is going on. Rosina manages to fob him off.

The Count now appears, in the disguise suggested by Figaro, but apparently roaring drunk into the bargain. He is able to slip a letter to Rosina, but this time Bartolo sees a piece of paper in her hand and demands to know what it is. Once again, Rosina is too clever for him and hands him her laundry list instead. An argument begins between Bartolo and the disguised Count, and an officer enters to arrest the latter. Bartolo is convinced that the troublemaker has been safely dealt with, but the Count tells the officer who he really is, and is released.

Act II. The music room of Dr Bartolo's house

Count Almaviva enters in a new disguise, that of singing teacher to Rosina in place of Basilio, who is supposed to be ill. Bartolo is still suspicious, and insists that, during the singing lesson, Figaro gives him a shave in the same room. Basilio himself turns up, but is bribed by the Count to stay silent and leave. The lesson continues, during which the lovers arrange to elope at midnight. Eventually, Bartolo's suspicions reach such a pitch that he decides to get the marriage contract between himself and Rosina drawn up there and then.

With the stage empty, a violent thunderstorm breaks out. Figaro and the Count enter via the balcony, having climbed a ladder. The lovers meet and embrace, with Figaro urging them to hurry down the ladder, as he can hear someone approaching. However, the ladder has disappeared, and the trio are found by Basilio and a notary, who have the marriage contract ready to be signed. Basilio, having been bribed once, is persuaded again by the Count, this time to change the name on the contract and bear witness to the marriage of Rosina and the Count. Figaro is happy to be the other witness.

When Bartolo arrives, having been the person who removed the ladder, he is too late. However, Rosina has no need for money, now being the Countess, and she is happy enough to give Bartolo what he wanted all along, namely her property.

© John Welford

Different types of percussion instrument

The word “percussion” comes from the Latin for “to strike hard”, so percussion instruments are generally those that make a noise when they are hit. The most common means of doing this is with a beater or stick of some kind, but there are several variations on the theme. Instruments that are shaken, such as maracas, also count as percussion instruments.

Technically, a piano is a percussion instrument, because the strings are hit by hammers, but a harpsichord is not, because the strings are plucked.

An orchestral percussionist has to know how to play a huge range of instruments, often switching between them at short notice. Although it is not difficult to get a sound out of a percussion instrument, the art is to get exactly the right tone and volume, and to produce the sounds at precisely the right time; when the percussionist gets it wrong, everyone know about it!

Percussion instruments can be divided broadly into two categories, namely those that have a definite pitch and those that do not. The former are generally used to play melodies, such as xylophones, glockenspiels and tubular bells, whereas the latter are used for rhythmic effects, including drums of several kinds, cymbals, triangles, castanets and gongs.

Although the instruments mentioned here are mostly associated with orchestras, percussion is hugely important to musical ensembles of many different kinds, including military marching bands, rock groups, jazz bands and folk music of many different traditions.

Of the drums, the timpani or kettledrums are the most complicated and difficult to play, and the orchestral timpanist normally plays nothing else, with the other percussionists looking after the rest of the instruments. A set of timpani comprises four drums, each being a large copper bowl, of varying sizes, over which a membrane is stretched.

Each drum produces its own note, and it is essential that the timpanist has tuned each drum correctly for the piece being played. This is done by adjusting the tension of the skin, which in turn is done by turning handles around the rim of the drum. A foot pedal can also be used to adjust the pitch during the performance. A timpanist may have to retune his drums while the other instruments are playing, such as during a slow movement when timpani are not usually required. He can often be seen with his ear close to the membrane, tapping the drum very softly so that only he can hear it.

Differences in the tone and quality of the sound will also be produced according to exactly where on the skin the drum is hit, how hard, and what kind of beater is used. A timpanist will often use four or more types of beater during a piece, their coverings varying from soft to hard.

Although the timpanist’s job may look easy it is far from being so. Timpanists usually have years of orchestral experience behind them before they take on the role, otherwise they are unlikely to have the necessary sensitivity.

The other drums which are most commonly seen (and heard) on the concert platform are the side drum, bass drum and tenor drum. The side drum is notable for having “snares” of stretched wire or nylon on one side, hence it is also known as the snare drum. It is normally hit with wooden sticks (sometimes wire brushes, especially in jazz bands) and produces a sharp sound when firmly hit, the snares producing a rattling sound. Rapid beats produce a “drum roll”.

The huge bass drum is usually mounted on its side, suspended on a frame, making a deep booming sound when hit with large felt-covered beaters. It is used to simulate thunder when rolled softly.

The tenor drum is a deeper version of the side drum, but without snares.

Bongos and conga drums are also sometimes used on the concert platform, although associated more with Latin American and African music. Bongos are small drums that come in pairs and are traditionally held between the knees and hit with the hands, although in the orchestra they are usually mounted on a stand and hit with sticks. The conga is a tall and narrow bass drum.

Cymbals are brass discs that, in the orchestra, are usually held, one in each hand, and bashed together. The sound can last for a long time if they are not damped. In jazz and rock bands it is normal to mount single cymbals on stands so that they can be hit with sticks, or in a “hi-hat” arrangement that allows them to be played via a foot pedal that raises one cymbal, mounted horizontally, and allows it to fall on to the other.

A tam-tam is a large gong suspended on a frame that is hit by felt-covered beaters to produce a rolling “oriental” sound.

The tambourine, which is associated with Salvation Army bands but has a very long history going back to ancient times, is a small hand-held drum that has several pairs of metal discs mounted in the frame. These rattle when the drum is hit with the hand, or the tambourine can simply be shaken.

The triangle is only a short metal bar bent into a triangle shape and suspended from a frame, but when hit with a metal rod, either with single beats or rattled within the frame, it can be heard at some distance.

Various other items can be hit or shaken, such as the whip (or slapstick) which is two pieces of wood hinged together, castanets, maracas, claves (two hollow sticks that are hit against each other) and woodblocks.

The category of pitched percussion instruments includes several that imitate bells. Tubular bells are metal tubes hanging in a frame such that they resemble a giant set of pan pipes. They are hit with one or more leather mallets and can sound like church bells.

The glockenspiel comprises thirty metal plates of various sizes arranged in a keyboard pattern to be hit directly with a wooden or metal stick, whereas the celeste is basically a glockenspiel that looks like an upright piano and is played with hands on a keyboard, thus enabling more notes to be played at the same time. The celeste is usually played by a pianist rather than a percussionist. The bell notes are high and tinkling.

The xylophone has wooden bars instead of metal ones, but with metal tubes hanging below each bar to provide amplification and resonance. A variant of the xylophone, playing an octave lower, is the marimba. The vibraphone has metal bars and resonating tubes but also electric fans that blow the vibrating air at different speeds to produce vibrato and tremolo effects.

Players of glockenspiels, xylophones and their variants often use two sticks in each hand to allow them greater versatility.

From time to time, orchestral percussionists may be required to produce sounds from other pieces of kit, such as wind machines, explosive devices (in Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”), or the various mechanical devices in Leopold Mozart’s “Toy Symphony”.

© John Welford

Trial by Jury, by Gilbert and Sullivan

Trial by Jury (1875) was the first comic opera by Gilbert and Sullivan (if we exclude the unpublished and largely lost “Thespis”) and it marks the beginning of a hugely successful partnership that produced a string of works that are still performed to the present day.

It is unusual in being the only one of the series that contains no spoken dialogue, and it is also much shorter than the later operas, being all over in around half an hour. However, some of its features re-appear throughout the series, such as the “patter song”, the “part song”, and the use of logical absurdities to drive the plot. It satirises the legal profession, of which Gilbert had some knowledge from his earlier unsuccessful career as a barrister. Poking fun at the law was to prove far more profitable than practicing it, and he was to have another highly successful “dig” in “Iolanthe” some seven years later.

The action takes place in a courtroom, where an action is being brought for “breach of promise of marriage”. Such trials were relatively common in late Victorian England, and they also had elements of the comic and the salacious about them, so were notorious for their popularity with the public gallery and the Press. Such trials, which were civil rather than criminal cases, became less common in the 20^th century although it was not until 1970 that the offence was taken off the statute book in England.

This particular trial opens with the characters being introduced, courtesy of the court Usher. He prepares to swear in the Jury, having made clear that this trial must be free of bias of every kind. Or rather, he does precisely the opposite by telling the jurymen that Angelina, the plaintiff, deserves all their sympathy, whereas in the case of Edwin, the defendant, “what he may say you need not mind”!

The defendant now appears and puts forward his side of the case, namely that he got bored with his intended and found love elsewhere. The jurymen recall their own past youths, and similar misdeeds, but then declare that they are now highly respectable and therefore “haven’t a scrap of sympathy with the defendant”.

The Learned Judge now takes his place and begins by explaining, via a patter song, how he rose to become a judge, starting from a lowly position as a junior barrister who could never get a “brief”. His route to the top is by falling in love with the “elderly, ugly daughter” of a rich attorney, after which all doors are opened to him. Gilbert’s satire of people who reach the top through influence rather than ability was to be a regular theme in later operas, as was the character of the older female who seeks love but is not allowed to enjoy it.

In this case, the offstage character is described as “she may very well pass for forty-three, in the dusk with a light behind her”. We are to meet her again in virtually every opera, whether as Little Buttercup in “Pinafore”, Ruth in “Pirates” or Katisha in “Mikado”. Here, she is merely a means to an end, because the Judge declares that, once he had reached the top, he got rid of her. “And now, if you please, I’m ready to try this breach of promise of marriage”.

So now we have a hypocritical, corrupt judge and a biased jury. It can’t get a lot worse for Edwin, can it?

With the Jury sworn in, the Plaintiff now appears, dressed in her bridal dress, and accompanied by her bridesmaids. The Judge firstly takes a shine to the first bridesmaid which he then transfers to the Plaintiff, with much exchanging of notes and blowing of kisses.

The Jury are likewise enraptured by Angelina’s beauty and are clearly furious with Edwin. He stands no chance here! Things get even worse when Angelina’s Counsel makes his speech, appealing entirely to the emotions of everyone present, after which the Plaintiff appears ready to faint and from every direction come offers to make her better. The blame for her distress is laid entirely on the Defendant.

However, Edwin has a go at defending himself, and makes what he regards as a very reasonable proposition, based on change being natural in the world, such that “you cannot eat breakfast all day, nor is it the act of a sinner, when breakfast is taken away to turn his attention to dinner”. It is therefore perfectly reasonable for his affections to change from one woman to another, so why does he not “marry this lady today and marry the other tomorrow?”

However, the Counsel points out that “in the reign of James the Second it was generally reckoned as a rather serious crime to marry two wives at one time”. This then leads to a complicated part-song in which all the principal characters, plus the chorus, mull over the “nice dilemma we have here that calls for all our wit”.

The Plaintiff launches into a fervent declaration of love for the Defendant, in a bid to ensure maximum damages, and the Defendant points out that he would make a terrible husband and she is far better off without him. In particular, he makes it clear that he would frequently get drunk and “thrash and kick her”.

This gives the Judge an idea. Why not get him drunk and see if this true? This is objected to by everyone, with the sole exception of Edwin, so, in exasperation, the Judge announces that he’ll settle the cases by marrying Angelina himself.

The opera ends with general rejoicing, although the Judge has a final dig at Edwin by calling him a snob, mainly to find a rhyme for “we’ve settled with the job, and a good job too”.

So, the scene was set for plenty more tuneful and highly enjoyable nonsense in the years to come. “Trial by Jury” is performed by amateur and professional companies all over the world, and it comes across as being as lively and nonsensical as on the day it first appeared. Doubtless it will go on doing so for many years to come.

© John Welford

Tosca, by Giacomo Puccini: a summary of the plot

There are not too many laughs in Tosca, which is based on a drama by the French playwright Victorien Sardou, set in Rome in 1800. The play was first performed in 1887, and it soon attracted the attention of Giuseppe Verdi as a possible subject for an opera. However, it was Giacomo Puccini who was to produce one of the operatic "standards", which had its first performance in Rome in January 1900 and has never been out of the operatic repertoire since then.

Tosca's popularity is not only due to the quality of its music but the fact that only three relatively straightforward sets are required and the cast has just four main parts. The profit margin per performance is therefore going to be reasonable!

Act 1 - Inside the church of Sant' Andrea in Rome

Cavaradossi, a painter, is working on a mural when Angelotti, an escaped political prisoner, asks for his help. Cavaradossi agrees to help him to escape and meanwhile hides him in the church.

Tosca, a singer, and Cavaradossi's lover, enters and has a go at the painter for using another woman as his model for the "Magdalen" in his mural. He replies that Tosca has nothing to worry about.

The sacristan and choir enter, followed by Scarpia, the chief of police, who is looking for Angelotti. He finds a fan that has been dropped by the artist's model and taunts Tosca with it to try to rouse her jealousy, but Scarpia has a double motive. He wants her to betray her lover, whom Scarpia suspects of knowing more than he is telling, and he also wants Tosca for himself. Dodgy policemen have been around for a long time!

Act 2 - Scarpia's office

Scarpia's men have not been able to find Angelotti, but Cavaradossi will do just as well for an interrogation, so he is brought before Scarpia for questioning. He says nothing, and is sent off to the torture chamber to see if that will change his mind.

Tosca has been sent for, and she is also silent until Scarpia opens the door to the torture chamber and she can hear what is being done to Cavaradossi. This loosens her tongue and she tells Scarpia where to find Angelotti. (Why Cavaradossi told her this in the first place is a mystery in itself. There you are, you have just done something that could cost you your life, namely hiding a political fugitive, and you reveal the secret to your girlfriend who in any case suspects you of being unfaithful. Not the cleverest thing to do, surely?)

As Cavaradossi is brought out to be taken off to prison, he has angry words with Tosca for betraying him. However, Scarpia must be convinced that Tosca and Cavaradossi are still very much an "item", because he now tries another ploy; the painter will be executed unless Tosca agrees to succumb to Scarpia's wicked ways. She doesn't think much of this idea, but news is now brought that Angelotti has poisoned himself to avoid recapture, which makes Tosca think that Cavaradossi might do the same. It's a strange train of thought, maybe, but that's what she thinks. So Tosca gives in.

Scarpia draws up a passport for the prisoner and at the same time gives orders for the execution, by firing squad, of Cavaradossi. He explains to Tosca that it will be a mock execution, using blanks, for the sake of appearances. Scarpia must think that he has covered all the bases, because he now advances to claim his prize. However, Tosca promptly grabs Scarpia's knife and stabs him to death. Then, instead of fleeing the scene and rushing to find her lover, she spends a considerable time arranging Scarpia's body and placing candles at his head and feet and a crucifix on his chest. Odd.

Act 3 - the battlements of the prison

The soldiers have received the order for the execution, but apparently the news of Scarpia's murder has not reached them yet. Tosca rushes to Cavaradossi and explains that all is well, she has his passport and the execution will be faked. Why on earth she believed a word that Scarpia said is another matter, given what she knows about his duplicity, but this lady's thought processes are not of the clearest, as we have already discovered.

Needless to say, the bullets are real, and Cavaradossi is killed. At first Tosca just thinks that he is a better actor than she had given him credit for, but when she realises the truth she gives way to despair. The news of Scarpia's death has reached the guards and they now rush in to arrest her. However, she escapes their clutches and throws herself over the battlements to her death.

With all the principals dead, the curtain falls.

There is a story, whether true or not is not within my knowledge, that at one performance there was an unexpected alternative ending. It is usual for the leap from the battlements to be cushioned by a pile of mattresses out of sight of the audience. This is doubtless because top operatic sopranos are expensive and theatres do not like being sued for broken ankles. However, on this occasion the diva had been particularly unpleasant to the stage crew, who got their revenge by removing the mattresses and introducing a trampoline instead. Tosca then made several unexpected reappearances as she bounced back into view. It would be a lovely story if true ...

© John Welford

The Cunning Little Vixen, by Leos Janacek: a summary of the plot

The Cunning Little Vixen is a three-act opera by Leos Janacek (1854-1928) who wrote both the libretto and the score. It is very much a fantasy opera, in that it combines human and animal characters, and it is a strange mix of comedy and tragedy.

The Cunning Little Vixen

The opera received its premiere at Brno (now in the Czech Republic) on 6^th November 1924. Written in the regional Czech dialect, it was not easily understood even by Czechs from Prague, and today it is rarely performed as originally written; indeed, given that Czech is a little-known language internationally, the opera is usually performed in translation. As such, and despite the staging challenges that it presents, it receives fairly regular performances throughout the world, helped greatly by the extremely attractive nature of the music, which contains elements of Czech folk music. 

Janacek was impressed by a series of the newspaper articles written by Rudolf Tesnolidek and, with the latter’s permission, wrote his libretto about the circle of life as it affects both the human and animal world.

Act 1

The opening scene is a shady spot in the woods where insects and animals dance in the heat. A forester enters and lies down for a nap. A frog jumps on him and wakes him, but instead of the frog he catches the young vixen (female fox) that had been chasing the frog, and takes her away.

The second scene is outside the forester’s cottage, where the vixen is miserable and refuses to be comforted by the forester’s pet dachshund dog. When the forester’s son teases the vixen she bites him, and is tied up and left alone all night as a punishment. During the night the vixen appears to change into a human girl, but is a vixen again by the morning.

In the morning, the chickens are fed and strut around where the vixen is tied. She harangues them and exhorts them to rise up and not be dominated by either men or cockerels. However, they do not respond and the vixen starts to bite off their heads. When the forester and his wife rush out, the vixen snaps her chain and runs off.

Act 2

In Scene 1, set in the forest, the vixen taunts a badger who goes off in a huff, leaving the vixen to take over his earth.

Scene 2 is set in the village inn. The forester, the schoolmaster, the innkeeper and the parson engage in banter that is mainly concerned with the characters’ luck with the opposite sex, but when it turns to mockery of the forester for losing the vixen, he gets cross and storms out.

Scene 3 is the wood at night, not far from the inn. The vixen is hiding behind a sunflower when the schoolmaster comes along, clearly the worse for drink. He sees the vixen and mistakes her for Terinka, his long-lost gypsy love. However, as he moves forward he trips over a small fence and lies prone.

Next, the parson comes along, also having drunk a bit too much. He also sees the vixen and he also confuses her with Terinka, with whom he had had an affair in his youth. The schoolmaster gets up and he and the parson grab each other when the forester comes along with his gun because they don’t trust his aim, even though he says he is trying to shoot the vixen.

Scene 4 is set at the entrance to the vixen’s earth, where she meets a dog fox and they fall in love, overheard by an owl and a dragonfly. They go off into her earth and when they return they announce that they must get married straight away, the ceremony being conducted by a woodpecker in the company of all the woodland animals.

Act 3

Scene 1 is in the forest, as Harasta the poacher comes along and finds a freshly killed hare on the ground. He is about to pick it up when the forester appears and taunts Harasta about still being unmarried. Harasta replies by saying that he is about to marry Terinka, whom everybody, including the married forester, seems to have an eye for. Harasta goes off laughing while the forester sets a trap for the foxes.

When he leaves, the foxes and all their cubs arrive. The cubs dance and their parents speculate on how many more cubs they will have. When they hear Harasta approaching they all hide apart from the vixen, who pretends to be injured so that she can lead the poacher away from the cubs. Harasta trips and falls, and when he gets up he sees the cubs pulling his booty of poultry from his bag. He fires his gun and the vixen is killed.

Scene 2 is in the garden of the inn, where the forester tells the schoolmaster that the foxes’ earth seems to be deserted, so he can never get his wife the fox-fur muff he had promised her. The schoolmaster tells him that Terinka is getting married today, and, says the Innkeeper’s wife, will be getting a muff. The forester and schoolmaster console each other that Terinka was right for neither of them. They hear that the parson has left the district but is homesick.

Scene 3 is in the clearing where the opera opened. The forester muses on how there are never endings but only constant beginnings, and how this lesson is best learned in the forest with its ever-changing cycles of birth, death and renewal. He sees a fox cub and says that he will catch the cub and make a better job of looking after it than he did its mother. He moves to catch the cub, but finds a frog in his hand instead. Thus the wheel has come full cycle.

To summarise

The Cunning Little Vixen tells a charming bitter-sweet story, made sad by the death of the title character but with an uplifting motif in the reformation of the human characters who are able to learn to be better people because of the actions of the animals. Although it may appear on the surface that the two worlds go their own way, the audience is left with the impression that they are connected at an almost mystical level, with the vixen and the unseen gypsy, Terinka, being incarnations of the same unattainable being.

It has the general air of a fairy tale, so the suspension of disbelief that is required to accept humans and animals singing to each other is not difficult to achieve. Janacek’s music is delightful and tuneful, and there are many opportunities for imaginative staging and costumes. This is therefore an excellent choice of opera for children to view as well as adults.

© John Welford

Cosi Fan Tutte, by W A Mozart: a summary of the plot

Mozart cannot be held totally responsible for the absurdities of the plot of this delightful "chamber opera", because the libretto was the work of Lorenzo Da Ponte, an interesting character in his own right; he was an Italian Jew who converted to Catholicism, changed his name, moved to Vienna, and ended his days in New York as a naturalised American. Cosi Fan Tutte, which appears to have come from nowhere but Da Ponte's own head, has caused justifiable angst in modern times, with its suggestion that women are fickle and easily led astray.

Act 1. Various locations in Naples

Guglielmo and Fernando are two army officers who are madly in love with two sisters, Fiordiligi and Dorabella, and they are firmly convinced that their passion is reciprocated by the ladies in question. Their acquaintance Don Alfonso, an older, wordly-wise man, questions their confidence and lays a bet that the girlfriends would turn their affections elsewhere given half a chance, not because of who they are but merely because they are women. The men agree to allow Don Alfonso two days to prove his point, if he can.

Don Alfonso visits the sisters and tells them that the soldiers have been called away on army duties and must leave immediately. The couples meet and say their farewells, with many assurances of everlasting fidelity, to the grim amusement of Don Alfonso.

The Don has recruited Despina, the maid of the two sisters, into the plot, and she now announces that two foreign gentlemen have turned up and wish to be introduced to them. Having had just enough time for a quick offstage change and the slapping on of unlikely facial hair, the men now appear as a pair of Albanians to pay court to the sisters. Apparently falling deeply in love with their hostesses at first sight, the men are rebuffed and pretend to take poison. Despina, now disguised as a doctor, rushes onstage to restore them to life.

Act 2. The next day

The thwarted "Albanians" don't let up, and soon find that they are making headway, with the two soldiers paying court to each other's real-life girlfriend. This may of course prove nothing more than that Fiordiligi really wishes that her man was a tenor and not a bass, but no matter. Dorabella even goes so far as to give her new lover a locket containing a portrait of her "former" boyfriend, which seems like a strange thing to do.

You might have thought that the two men who are, after all, wanting to prove Don Alfonso wrong, would back off at this point, but no way! They now demand that a lawyer be produced to draw up marriage contracts. This is speed dating with a vengeance! The lawyer turns out to be Despina in another disguise (she's a soprano, by the way). The contracts are drawn up and a banquet prepared.

At this point Don Alfonso turns up to announce that the brave soldiers are on their way back (it was a very short war) and will arrive at any moment. The "Albanians" clear off and, another quick change later, re-appear as Guglielmo and Fernando, who find that their lovers of only the previous day have been prepared to marry two perfect strangers within 24 hours of their first meeting.

As this is the world of light opera, and not a divorce court, it is no problem to set these little matters to rights, and soon everyone is friends again. The reason for the men not to be angry with the women is, and this is the real clincher, because women can't help themselves from acting in such a way. In the words of the opera's title, Cosi Fan Tutte, "thus do they all"!

Yes, this is an absurd plot that not only makes a morally dubious claim, and the sexist suggestion that men are more constant than women, but is also full of holes if you examine it too closely. To enjoy this opera today you really have to forget about the story and just drink in the music!

© John Welford