Lohengrin, by Richard Wagner

 

Lohengrin is a romantic opera in three acts that takes three and a half hours to perform. It was written by Richard Wagner, being completed in 1848. This was a momentous year in European politics, with revolutions and uprisings in a number of countries, including Germany. Wagner was involved in an uprising in his home city of Dresden, with the result that he was exiled to Switzerland and was unable to premiere his new opera as intended. He petitioned his friend (and future father-in-law) Franz Liszt to arrange the premiere on his behalf in Weimar in 1850.

Wagner’s romanticism was largely based on ancient legends and mysticism with strong Gothic influences. These trends would come to the fore in his much later Ring Cycle operas, but were certainly present in his earlier operas including Lohengrin. The plot of this opera was based on a mediaeval epic poem, “Parsifal”, to which Wagner added his own embellishments including elements of ancient Greek tragedy.

The setting is the city of Antwerp during the reign of King Heinrich I of Saxony (876-936)

Act One

There is discord at the court of King Heinrich when Count Friedrich accuses Elsa von Brabant of murdering her brother. He had previously been rejected by her and married the sorceress Ortrud instead.

The King declares that the accusation must be settled by combat, with Elsa’s champion fighting Friedrich. This turns out to be a mysterious knight who arrives on a boat led by a swan. He agrees to be Elsa’s champion on condition that should he win she will marry him but must never enquire about his identity.

The fight takes place with the knight overcoming Friedrich but sparing his life.

Act Two

There are celebrations in the castle of Antwerp, but outside the walls Ortrud persuades Friedrich to seek revenge. When Elsa steps onto a balcony to confess her joy, Ortrud cunningly elicits her pity. Ortrud warns Elsa not to trust the knight.

In the morning, the King’s herald proclaims the knight to be “Protector of Brabant”. Elsa arrives in a wedding procession but Ortrud intervenes and accuses the knight of sorcery. When Friedrich arrives he calls on the knight to reveal his name but the knight refuses to do so.

Act Three

The act opens with the famous Wedding March that has been used at weddings ever since the opera was first performed.

Once married, Elsa, troubled by the doubts instilled in her by Ortrud, asks the knight to reveal his name. Friedrich arrives to take his revenge by attacking the knight but is killed by him.

In front of the King, the knight presents Friedrich’s body and accuses Elsa of breaking her vow. He then reveals that he is Lohengrin, the son of Parsifal and a Knight of the Grail. He must now, with his identity revealed, return to the home of the Grail at Montsalvat instead of leading an army on behalf of King Heinrich.

The swan and the boat reappear. Ortrud boasts that it was her magic that transformed Elsa’s apparently murdered brother into the swan. In response to Lohengrin’s prayer, a dove appears. He takes a chain from the swan which then transforms back into Elsa’s brother, Gottfried.

Lohengrin departs on the boat, now led by the dove. Elsa calls out to her husband then dies in her brother’s arms.

© John Welford

Turandot, by Puccini: a summary of the plot

The plots of great operas are often difficult to fathom, partly because opera composers are generally more interested in writing great music than telling a believable story. The plot is merely a peg on which to hang arias, duets and choruses. Opera plots are often absurd, with unlikely happenings, impossible coincidences and ridiculous characters right, left and centre. On the other hand, some operas are also great dramas. See what you think about this one:

Turandot was Puccini's final opera, left unfinished at his death. At the first performance, at La Scala, Milan, on 25th April 1926, the conductor, Arturo Toscanini, laid down his baton in the middle of Act 3, turned to the audience and told them that this was the point at which the composer had died. The curtain was lowered slowly and the audience departed in silence. However, the opera is now performed in its entirety, the remaining pages having been completed by Franco Alfano, based on Puccini's sketches.

Act 1 - an open space in central Beijing, in ancient times

A mandarin reads a proclamation to the crowd that the hand of Princess Turandot will be given to the first prince of royal birth who can answer her three riddles. The downside of the deal is that failure to answer correctly means that you do not come back next week, but lose your head. The Princess is clearly in no great hurry to get hitched.

The crowd press forward to catch a glimpse of the Prince of Persia, who was unwise enough to take up the challenge and will soon pay the price for failure.

Also in the crowd is a beggar and a slave-girl, and another Prince, all of them hiding their identity. They meet, and the Prince recognises the beggar as being his own father, the exiled King Timur of Tartary.

As the Prince of Persia is brought forward to be executed, the crowd call for Turandot to show mercy, and the unknown Prince curses her cruelty. When Turandot appear, the Prince refuses to bow down to her, but instead is struck by her beauty and falls hopelessly in love with her. The merest glimpse of a well-turned ankle and some men are putty in the hands of a beautiful woman.

Despite the entreaties of his father and Liu, the slave-girl, he determines to try his luck at the Princess's challenge. All he has to do to announce his challenge is to strike the great gong three times. Even the three courtiers, Ping, Pong, and Pung, try in vain to dissuade him; and if the sight of the Prince of Persia's severed head being carried across the stage by the executioner won't put him off, nothing will. He strikes the gong and the curtain falls.

Act 2, Scene 1 - a gorgeously painted pavilion

A bit of light relief as the three comic courtiers take the stage. Was Puccini a secret fan of Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado? Maybe!

Scene 2 - outside the Palace

The Emperor appears with all his court, and even he tries to dissuade the Prince from taking up the challenge. Turandot appears and explains her motive for being so unpleasant, which is that her grandmother had been cruelly murdered and Turandot sees it as her duty to avenge the crime by slaughtering as many foreign princes as she can.

So the test goes ahead. Question One - "What is it that flies by night, that is born when the sun sets, and dies when it rises?" The Prince gives the answer - "Hope". He is correct. Question Two - "What is it that dreams can kindle into flame, whose voice we tremble to hear, and which is the colour of the setting sun?" Answer Two - "Blood". Turandot is now seriously worried, as we have to assume that no previous candidates have got as far as this before. Question Three - "What is it that, while it freezes, sets you on fire, which by setting you free makes you a slave, and by taking you as a slave makes you a king?" The Prince gives the answer - "It is you, Princess Turandot".

He's right, you know. She can't pretend that he isn't, because the answers are written on sealed scrolls borne by the Emperor's wise elders. She appeals to the Emperor, but he points out that, by the terms of the deal, she must now marry the unknown Prince.

So he's won the bet, and the opera will now draw to a triumphant conclusion? You might think so, but we're only in Act 2, and we haven't got to "Nessun Dorma" yet. At this point we get one of the strangest plot twists of all time. Having won the prize, the Prince now gives Turandot another chance to win. If she can answer his riddle, which is "What is my name?", before dawn, then she wins after all and he dies. Next time you win the lottery, you will hand the money back and have another go, won't you?

Act 3, Scene 1 - the Palace gardens at night

OK, so this is where "Nessun Dorma" comes in. "None shall sleep", sings the Prince, as he reflects on the efforts that the Princess, and everybody else, will be making to learn his true name.

It's time for Ping, Pong and Pung to re-appear, this time offering the Prince lots of goodies just to leave and forget all about Turandot. No deal - despite what he knows about her bloodthirsty character, she is the only woman for him. It takes all sorts.

There's a commotion as a company of guards comes in, dragging Timur and Liu with them. Word has got about that these two were seen with the Prince the previous day, so surely they must know what his name is?

Turandot is summoned, and she questions Timur, but Liu steps forward and says that only she knows the answer. Oh no, she doesn't, says the Prince. Well, one thing leads to another and Liu admits that she loves the Prince - apparently she is as good as the Prince at falling helplessly in love at a moment's notice. Liu has realised that she can now never have the Prince for herself, but she can at least save his life by sacrificing her own, which she does by stabbing herself.

Only the Prince and Turandot are left on the stage. He tears off her veil and kisses her. She admits that she had actually fancied him all along, but then she reminds him that he has not told her his name. You might think that this is a bad move on the Prince's part, given the volatile nature of Turandot's character, but he tells her that his name is Calaf, thus putting his life back in her hands. We know he's a bit of a gambler, so maybe he reckons that that smacker he gave her will have done the trick. Just bear in mind for a second that this was the role played by Pavarotti, even in his sixties. Some gamble, that!

Scene 2 - outside the Palace

Everybody has gathered to learn the outcome of the previous night's challenge. Turandot looks down at Calaf and tells her father, "I know the name of the stranger. It is Love!" So the kiss did work, after all. Calaf leaps up and takes her in his arms. General rejoicing as the curtain falls. Not bad for a grand opera - only a couple of grizzly deaths, and a happy ending.

© John Welford

A beginner's guide to opera

Here’s a good tip to begin with. If you have never been to an opera performance before, don’t start with Wagner’s Ring Cycle! At a total stage time of 15 hours, plus intermissions, that represents a major commitment not only of your time but your concentration, not to mention the possession of excellent bladder control. Wagner is not to everyone’s taste and, as Rossini once famously remarked, he has some sublime moments but also some terrible quarters of an hour.

Indeed, the best introduction to opera is probably not to attend a performance at all but to listen to CDs or downloads of great performances. Some of the most sublime music of all time comes from opera, such as the Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves from Verdi’s Nabucco, the aria Nesun Dorma from Puccini’s Turandot or the duet Au Fond du Temple Saint from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers. All of these are instantly recognisable and greatly loved.

However, attenders of opera performances are often disappointed to discover that numbers such as these are only small sections of considerably longer works that are much less tuneful or interesting. The Pearl Fishers is a case in point; without that one duet the opera would rarely get staged, as its plot is particularly feeble and the rest of the music of much lower quality.

On the other hand, Bizet’s Carmen is full of musical life and invention, as well as erotic intensity and violence. One’s attention is unlikely to flag and, for the raw beginner, a ticket to Carmen would be well worth the money. The opera has, indeed, much in common with the modern musical, and the progression between Carmen and, say, Bernstein’s West Side Story is not difficult to detect, although the latter had Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet as its inspiration.

Opera is a musical form with a very long history, and there is a world of difference between the operas of Handel, Puccini and Benjamin Britten, for example.

Early opera

Early operas were relatively short and consisted of a set of arias (solos), duets and ensemble pieces strung together with passages of “recitative”, by which is meant text sung in a speech rhythm with little attempt at melody. These passages are only there to hold the plot together and provide links between the more melodic elements, but they can be lengthy and, for the beginner, are more likely to be endured than enjoyed. Recitative is also a feature of operas of much later periods.

Most early operas made little attempt to convey dramatic realism, with the performers being required to sing rather than act. The same could also be said of many later operas! If you want to see great acting, the theatre is often a more promising venue than the opera house.

That said, many great operas are also great dramas, and audiences are often spellbound at performances of Tosca or Madame Butterfly, where Puccini’s music has a dramatic intensity that demands a certain amount of acting talent from the performers.

The language problem

One aspect of opera that can be off-putting for the beginner is the fact that relatively few great operas were written in English. Italian is the language of choice for opera libretti. This might have been expected with those by Verdi, Donizetti and Puccini, but the operas of Handel and Mozart, for example, were also written to be sung in Italian. If you do not understand Italian (or German or French, etc) the great European operas might be thought to be unintelligible, but this is not necessarily the case.

For one thing, the drama is often conveyed via actions as well as words. This is a good reason for seeing an opera live as opposed to hearing a recording, much as viewing a ballet makes more sense than listening to it if one wants to know what is going on.

Another point to make is that operas can be regarded as music first and drama second. In other words one goes to an opera for a musical experience rather than to see a play. This is, however, a debatable point.

Many modern opera houses have got round the language problem by displaying translated “surtitles” on a screen above the stage. This has been a controversial move in some quarters, with many people regarding the constantly moving words as an unwelcome distraction. Others regard this as preferable to performing operas in English translation, as the translations do not always match the music as perfectly as the original. It is also the case that many opera singers are better at singing notes than words and it is often difficult to make out what they are singing, whatever the language!

Strange plots

Another aspect of opera to bear in mind is that the plots are sometimes strange in the extreme. Characters are able to fall into the most remarkable predicaments for very peculiar reasons, and likewise escape from them in ways that don’t seem to make a lot of sense. Audiences are required to suspend their disbelief to very great measure, such as when a clearly very healthy and well-built soprano is starving in a garret and dying of tuberculosis in La Boheme, or the Rhine Maidens in Das Rheingold are able to sing when at the bottom of the river!

What to see?

So, what would be a good introductory opera for a beginner to see on stage? Several have already been mentioned, but a good tip might be to go for something shorter rather than longer. The operas of Mozart are a good bet, partly because the music is always a delight, and you can’t have too much Mozart! A performance of The Marriage of Figaro, for example, is worth considering, as is the charming and tuneful Cosi Fan Tutte.

These two operas fall into the category of “opera buffa” or comic opera, as opposed to “opera seria”. The beginner might indeed prefer to start with comedy, as the onstage antics, involving such things as characters assuming disguises or seeking to perform practical jokes on each other, will entertain even if the music does not.

The world of the comic opera can play to very different rules from that of “grand opera”. For one thing, amateur opera companies are far more likely to tackle the works of Gilbert and Sullivan or Offenbach than they are Verdi or Wagner! Amateur performances have the huge advantage of considerably cheaper ticket prices than those of the top professional companies, whose productions can be prohibitively expensive for most people.

That said, a night at the opera at one of the world’s great opera houses is certainly a night to remember. People make a real effort to dress in their finery, possibly combining the event with dinner at a top restaurant. Audience members can usually be assured of a brilliant evening’s entertainment, especially if the company on stage includes some of the world’s great operatic stars.

Whatever the choice, listening to opera, and seeing it on stage, can be an extremely rewarding and memorable experience. A little homework done in advance into the plot might be a good idea, though.

© John Welford

Women in The Pirates of Penzance, by Gilbert and Sullivan

The female characters in the Savoy operas of Gilbert and Sullivan fall into three groups. There is a female chorus, the composition of which may or may not be believable; there is the female love interest, sung by a soprano; and there is an older woman, sung by a contralto. There are usually other female “semi-principals” who may be friends or close relations of the female lead; and occasionally there is a minor role for another contralto, this normally being played by a chorus member for a single scene.

Ladies of the Chorus

The Pirates of Penzance fits this pattern as neatly as any of the Savoy operas. The nature of the chorus is as absurd as one could wish, as all the women (there are supposed to be 24 of them) are the daughters of Major-General Stanley. Given that in most productions the chorus members all appear to be of roughly the same age, as is desired by the plot, the audience must start to wonder at the prevalence of multiple births in 19^th century Cornwall!

The chorus in G&S does not just comment on proceedings but has an integral part to play in the plot. This is certainly the case in “Pirates”, where the whole action devolves on the seizing by force of the female chorus by the male chorus (the pirates) in Act I and their rescue by the chorus basses (the policemen) in Act II.

One of the best comic scenes in the opera involves the interplay of the daughters and the policemen in Act II when the former persuade the latter to go and fight the pirates. The girls are convinced that nothing is more glorious than meeting one’s death fighting a terrible foe, and the policemen will live forever in their hearts should this happen, but the policemen would much prefer to carry on living in the real world for as long as possible!

The daughters are also essential to the plot because of their beauty. They have to present an obvious contrast to the older woman character, Ruth, so that the joke can be made about Ruth persuading the male lead, Frederic, that she is beautiful, simply because she is the only woman that Frederic has ever seen.

Mabel

Mabel is the principal daughter, supported by three semi-principals in Edith, Kate and Isabel. Mabel is one of the most difficult roles to cast in any production of Pirates, mainly because it is essential that she can carry off one of the most beautiful but difficult numbers in all of G&S, namely “Poor wandering one”.

It is with this song that she is introduced to the opera. Frederic, the apprentice pirate, has called on the chorus of beautiful maidens to say if there is not just one of them who could love somebody like him, and it is Mabel who responds to the call. 

Were we to attempt to analyse the motivations of the characters in terms of normal behaviour, we could only condemn Mabel as being revoltingly forward in offering herself to a man whom she has never seen before, although she does lay down a few conditions, namely that he must forswear his previous life of evil. Even so, we need to apply a considerable “suspension of disbelief” before this makes sense to us. On the other hand, if we can believe that Major-General Stanley has all those daughters of marriageable age …

Mabel is a typical Gilbertian heroine in that she is not only beautiful but resilient, with a mind of her own. She is not there just as the girl to be got by the guy. She is the one who is not afraid to stand out from the crowd, and she also shows courage when the pirates seize the daughters, warning them that their father is a major-general. In Act II she steels herself to the prospect of a long separation from Frederic (some 79 years in fact), and also takes the lead in sending the policemen off to do battle.

Ruth

The other main female character in “Pirates” is Ruth, the “pirate maid-of-all-work”, without whose initial mistake, many years ago, none of this would have happened. To modern sensibilities, this older woman role in G&S is somewhat embarrassing. Gilbert intends us to laugh at these old maids who are clearly past their prime but in whom there is still a strong sexual desire. Of course, we are supposed to think, you cannot be satisfied in love, the reason being that you are too old. You, whatever role you play, must make do with the worst outcome in love, and we will make fun of you for your presumption. Hence we have Katisha (“The Mikado”) Little Buttercup (“Pinafore”) and the Fairie Queen (“Iolanthe”) among others.

Ruth’s mistake was to be hard of hearing, even in her youth, and to have apprenticed young Frederic, at the age of eight, to a pirate instead of a pilot. Gilbert likes us to laugh at physical infirmities as well as increasing female age. A point is also made about Ruth’s loss of physical attractiveness, as Frederic exclaims in disgust that she is not at all beautiful in contrast to Mabel and her sisters.

However, there is more to Ruth than an embittered old maid (a la Katisha) and she emerges as one of the strongest characters in the opera. It is she (along with the Pirate King) who points out to Frederic that his apprenticeship is far from over, due to his having been born on 29^th February in a leap year, and that his 21^st birthday is therefore many years away. Having been his nursemaid all his life, she is the only person who would have known that fact.

It is also Ruth who delivers the final piece of Gilbertian “business”, namely that the pirates are all “noblemen who have gone wrong”, and therefore, as peers of the realm, are fully qualified to marry the daughters of Major-General Stanley. We can assume that Ruth ends up married to the Pirate King, although this is not actually stated.

Better characters than the men?

Although there are not many named women characters in the opera, their roles are essential to the plot. The male characters are a pretty insipid lot when it comes to taking action, with the possible exception of the Pirate King, and even he needs Ruth as his lieutenant. The Major-General fears for his life, the police sergeant is a coward, and Frederic is such a “slave to duty” (which is the subtitle of the opera) that he can take no action on his own initiative. The roles of the female characters are therefore central to “Pirates”, giving huge potential to women actors to have a great time playing the parts in question.

© John Welford

The Magic Flute, by W A Mozart: a summary of the plot

This was Mozart's final opera, receiving its premiere only three months before his death in December 1791. It is an allegorical fantasy, full of fairy story elements and also references to Freemasonry. Mozart and the librettist, Emanuel Schickaneder, were members of the same Masonic lodge.

The music of the opera is notable both for its extreme difficulty and its simplicity. The librettist was also an amateur singer for whom the part of Papageno was written, so his music is notable for having all the lines stated by the orchestra in advance, so that he could find his pitch. However, the part of the Queen of the Night was sung by a soprano of the highest musical ability, as is evident from her famous aria "Hell's vengeance boils in my heart" which is generally regarded as one of the most difficult in all opera. It was famously mangled by Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944), who thought she could sing, but couldn't, which didn't stop her from proving the point to thousands at the Carnegie Hall and elsewhere. 

However, back to the plot. This was originally written in two acts, but the opera has also been performed in four. As it is easier to take it all in as a four-acter, here we go:


Act 1. A Forest. (This is supposed to be Egypt, which is not renowned for the denseness of its forests)

Prince Tamino has lost his way, and is being pursued by a giant serpent (suspend your disbelief NOW!). His cries bring three fairies to his aid, who promptly slay the serpent with their spears. A strange being now enters - a man clad in birds' feathers. This is Papageno, who claims that this is by far the best way to catch birds. He also claims that it was he who slew the serpent. The fairies will have none of this and fasten a padlock on his lips to punish him for telling porkies.

They also show the prince a picture of the beautiful maiden Pamina, who is being held captive by Sarastro at the Temple of Isis. Right on cue, Pamina's mother, the Queen of the Night, enters and calls on Tamino to rescue the girl. As is always the case on these occasions, he agrees, and is given a magic flute that will protect him from danger. Papageno is to accompany him, and he is given a chime of bells in place of the padlock.

Act II. Scene 1. The Palace of Sarastro 

Monastatos, a moor, has been annoying Pamina with his attentions and is about to make off with her when Papageno arrives to announce the coming of the prince. Pamina makes ready to escape with them.


Scene 2. Entrance to the Temple

The Temple of Isis has three doors. At two of them Tamino is denied entry, but at the third a priest appears and tells him that he is all wrong about Sarastro, who is really the good guy; it's Pamina's mother, who is a sorceress, that he should be worried about. Pamina and Papageno now appear, but Monastatos prevents their escape. Sarastro enters, hears the story so far, and orders that Monastatos be punished. He greets Tamino who, naturally enough, has fallen in love with Pamina, but tells him that he must prove his worth by undergoing a series of ordeals.


Act III. Scene 1. A Palm Grove

The temple priests meet to consider the case of the two lovers and agree that they can be united if Tamino passes the tests he is about to face.


Scene 2. A Courtyard

The first ordeal is that neither Tamino nor Papageno must speak. Three attendants of the Queen of the Night appear and try to tempt them, but they hold firm, although this is a struggle for Papageno.


Scene 3. A Garden

Pamina is asleep and is approached by Monastatos, but he hides himself when the Queen of the Night enters and hands Pamina a dagger, which she is commanded to use to kill Sarastro. When the Queen goes, Monastatos threatens Pamina but is foiled when Sarastro appears.


Scene 4. A Corridor in the Temple

The ordeal of silence becomes too much for Papageno, but Tamino stays silent even when Pamina whispers sweet nothings to him. She is somewhat put out when he refuses to reply.


Act IV. Scene 1. The Pyramids

For his next ordeal, the prince is commanded to wander off into the desert, leaving Pamina behind. Papageno wishes that he had a girlfriend too, at which an old hag appears who turns into the young and pretty Papagena. However, he must also prove himself to be worthy before she can be his.


Scene 2. The Desert

Pamina believes that the prince has been faithless to her, by not speaking and then wandering off, and is about to kill herself with her mother's dagger when she is prevented by the temple servants. Papageno is also distraught that Papagena has disappeared, but happiness returns when he discovers that ringing his chime of bells brings her back.


Scene 3. A Fiery Cavern

For the last of his ordeals, Tamino is menaced by waterfalls and tongues of flame, beyond which he can see Pamina. He calls to her, his lips now being unsealed, and the lovers are reunited. A few notes from the flute cause all the remaining dangers to vanish.


Scene 4. The Temple of Isis

Sarastro welcomes the prince and the maiden and joins their hands. Papageno and Papagena also make a lovely couple, while the Queen of the Night and her servant the moor (who would have guessed it?) are vanquished.

© John Welford

Madame Butterfly, by Giacomo Puccini: a summary of the plot

This is one of the best-known and loved of all operas, both for its superb music and its plot, a tragedy of broken faith in which the whole audience longs to scream out to Butterfly, "Don't trust him!"

The opera had several sources, including "Madame Chrysantheme", a novel by Pierre Loti dating from 1887, and a short story (1898) by the American writer John Luther Long that was turned into a play by David Belasco. Puccini's opera was itself the inspiration for "Miss Saigon", the musical that premiered in 1989.

At its first performance, at La Scala, Milan on 17th February 1904, the opera was not the success that the composer hoped for. However, by splitting the original two acts into three and making some other changes, Puccini ensured that this would become one of his greatest successes, and a "standard" in the repertory of opera companies across the world.

Act 1 - A villa in the naval port of Nagasaki, Japan

Lieutenant Pinkerton, U.S. Navy, seeks the advice of a marriage broker, having been told that his posting in Japan will be a long one. The marriage broker assures him that any marriage will only be binding as long as he consents to live with his wife, after which she will be free to marry again. However, the lady in question, Cho-Cho-San, sees things differently, as she falls in love with Pinkerton and believes that she will be marrying him for life. She even goes so far as to renounce her religion and thus severs all ties with her own people.

Sharpless, the American consul and Pinkerton's friend, tries to prevent the match by telling Pinkerton how serious the girl is about it. At the wedding feast, Cho-Cho-San's uncle, a priest, appears and heaps curses on her head for renouncing her faith. All her relatives desert her, but she clings to her new husband, who calms her fears. The scene ends with mutual protestations of love.

Act 2 - The villa, three years later

After a short but blissful wedded life, Pinkerton has been recalled to America, promising to return to Cho-Cho-San (now called "Madame Butterfly"), "when the robins nest again". She trusts him implicitly, but her maid, Suzuki, has different thoughts.

The battleship on which Pinkerton serves is ordered back to Japan, and he writes a letter to Sharpless, asking him to break the news to Butterfly that he will be arriving with his new wife, an American. However, when Sharpless takes the letter to Butterfly, she is so overjoyed at seeing a letter in Pinkerton's hand that she completely ignores what it says. She is also deaf to the marriage broker, who tries to arrange a new marriage for her, on the grounds that Pinkerton's desertion amounts to a divorce. "That may be so in Japan," she says, "but I am an American!" When the Consul tries again to convince her of the truth, she introduces a fair-haired child, with the words "My lieutenant cannot forget this".

As Sharpless departs, a cannon shot announces the arrival of Pinkerton's ship. Butterfly and her maid excitedly decorate the house with flowers to welcome her husband, but as the evening drags on he does not appear. Suzuki and the child fall asleep, but Butterfly waits and watches.

Act 3 - The same, the next day

Butterfly has not slept all night. Suzuki wakes and persuades Butterfly to lie down and rest, which she does, so that she can look her best when Pinkerton arrives. When she has left the room, Sharpless, Pinkerton and Kate, his American wife, arrive. When he hears from Suzuki about Butterfly's devotion, he is overtaken by remorse and cannot bear to face his deserted bride. Kate tells Suzuki to tell Butterfly that she will care for the child, but at this point Butterfly enters and hears it directly from Kate. Butterfly retains her composure, congratulates Kate politely, and tells her that, if they return in half an hour, they may have the child.

However, when the Americans return, they find that Butterfly has used her father's sword to end her life. On the sword are inscribed the words "Die with honour when you can no longer live with honour".

© John Welford

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

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