Opera in three acts, by Bellini; words by Count Pepoli. Produced, Paris, Théâtre des Italiens, January 25, 1835, with Grisi as Elvira, Rubini as Arturo, Tamburini as Riccardo and Lablache as Giorgio. London, King's Theatre, May 21, 1835, in Italian (I Puritani ed i Cavalieri). New York, February 3, 1844; Academy of Music, 1883, with Gerster; Manhattan Opera House, December 3, 1906, with Bonci as Arturo, and Pinkert as Elvira; and in 1909 with Tetrazzini as Elvira.
Characters
Puritans, Soldiers of the Commonwealth, Men-at-Arms, Women, Pages, etc.
Time—During the Wars between Cromwell and the Stuarts.
Place—Near Plymouth, England.
Act I is laid in a fortress near Plymouth, held by Lord Walton for Cromwell. Lord Walton's daughter, Elvira, is in love with Lord Arthur Talbot, a cavalier and adherent of the Stuarts, but her father has promised her hand to Sir Richard Forth, like himself a follower of Cromwell. He relents, however, and Elvira is bidden by her uncle, Sir George Walton, to prepare for her nuptials with Arthur, for whom a safe-conduct to the fortress has been provided.
Queen Henrietta, widow of Charles I., is a prisoner in the fortress. On discovering that she is under sentence of death, Arthur, loyal to the Stuarts, enables her to escape by draping her in Elvira's bridal veil and conducting her past the guards, as if she were the bride. There is one critical moment. They are met by Sir Richard, who had hoped to marry Elvira. The men draw their swords, but a disarrangement of the veil shows Sir Richard that the woman he supposes to be Lord Arthur's bride is not Elvira. He permits them to pass. When the escape is discovered, Elvira, believing herself deserted, loses her reason. Those who had gathered for the nuptials, now, in a stirring chorus, invoke maledictions upon Arthur's head.
Act II plays in another part of the fortress. It concerns itself chiefly with the exhibition of Elvira's madness. But it has also the famous martial duet, "Suoni la tromba" (Sound the trumpet), in which Sir George and Sir Richard announce their readiness to meet Arthur in battle and strive to avenge Elvira's sad plight.
Act III is laid in a grove near the fortress. Arthur, although proscribed, seeks out Elvira. Her joy at seeing him again temporarily lifts the clouds from her mind, but renewed evidence of her disturbed mental state alarms her lover. He hears men, whom he knows to be in pursuit of him, approaching, and is aware that capture means death, but he will not leave Elvira. He is apprehended and is about to be executed when a messenger arrives with news of the defeat of the Stuarts and a pardon for all prisoners. Arthur is freed. The sudden shock of joy restores Elvira's reason. The lovers are united.
As an opera "I Puritani" lacks the naïveté of "La Sonnambula," nor has it any one number of the serene beauty of the "Casta diva" in "Norma." Occasionally, however, it is revived for a tenor like Bonci, whose elegance of phrasing finds exceptional opportunity in the rôle of Arthur; or for some renowned prima donna of the brilliant coloratura type, for whom Elvira is a grateful part.
The principal musical numbers are, in act first, Sir Richard Forth's cavatina, "Ah! per sempre io ti perdei" (Ah! forever have I lost thee); Arthur's romance, "A te o cara" (To thee, beloved);
[Listen]
A te o cara, amor talora,
and Elvira's sparkling polacca, "Son vergin vezzosa" (I am a blithesome maiden).
[Listen]
Son vergin vezzosa, in vesto di sposa,
In the second act we have Elvira's mad scene, "Qui la voce sua soave" (It was here in sweetest accents).
[Listen]
Qui la voce sua soave
For Elvira there also is in this act the beautiful air, "Vien, diletto" (Come, dearest love).
The act closes with the duet for baritone and bass, between Sir Richard and Sir George, "Suoni la tromba," a fine proclamation of martial ardour, which "in sonorousness, majesty and dramatic intensity," as Mr. Upton writes, "hardly has an equal in Italian opera."
[Listen]
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Suoni la tromba, e intrepido Io pugnerò da forte; |
"A una fonte afflitto e solo" (Sad and lonely by a fountain), a beautiful number for Elvira occurs in the third act.
There also is in this act the impassioned "Star teco ognor" (Still to abide), for Arthur, with Elvira's reply, "Caro, non ho parola" (All words, dear love are wanting).
It was in the duet at the end of Act II, on the occasion of the opera's revival for Gerster, that I heard break and go to pieces the voice of Antonio Galassi, the great baritone of the heyday of Italian opera at the Academy of Music. "Suoni la tromba!"—He could sound it no more. The career of a great artist was at an end.
"I Puritani" usually is given in Italian, several of the characters having Italian equivalents for English names—Arturo, Riccardo, Giorgio, Enrichetta, etc.
The first performance in New York of "I Puritani," which opened Palmo's Opera House, was preceded by a "public rehearsal," which was attended by "a large audience composed of the Boards of Aldermen, editors, police officers, and musical people," etc. Signora Borghese and Signor Antognini "received vehement plaudits." Antognini, however, does not appear in the advertised cast of the opera. Signora Borghese was Elvira, Signor Perozzi Arturo, and Signor Valtellino Giorgio. The performance took place Friday, February 2, 1844.
Gaetano Donizetti
(1797-1848)
THE composer of "Lucia di Lammermoor," an opera produced in 1835, but seemingly with a long lease of life yet ahead of it, was born at Bergamo, November 29, 1797. He composed nearly seventy operas.
His first real success, "Anna Bolena," was brought out in Rome, in 1830. Even before that, however, thirty-one operas by him had been performed. Of his many works, the comparatively few still heard nowadays are, in the order of their production, "L'Elisire d'Amore," "Lucrezia Borgia," "Lucia di Lammermoor," "La Figlia del Reggimento," "La Favorita," "Linda di Chamounix," and "Don Pasquale." A clever little one-act comedy opera, "Il Campanello di Notte" (The Night Bell) was revived in New York in the spring of 1917.
With a gift for melody as facile as Bellini's, Donizetti is more dramatic, his harmonization less monotonous, and his orchestration more careful. This is shown by his choice of instruments for special effects, like the harp solo preceding the appearance of Lucia, the flute obligato in the mad scene in the opera of which she is the heroine, and the bassoons introducing "Una furtiva lagrima," in "L'Elisire d'Amore." He is a distinct factor in the evolution of Italian opera from Rossini to and including Verdi, from whom, in turn, the living Italian opera composers of note derive.
Donizetti's father was a weaver, who wished his son to become a lawyer. But he finally was permitted to enter the conservatory at Bergamo, where, among other teachers, he had J.H. Mayr in harmony. He studied further, on Mayr's recommendation, with Padre Martini.
As his father wanted him to teach so that he would be self-supporting, he enlisted in the army, and was ordered to Venice. There in his leisure moments he composed his first opera, "Enrico di Borgogna," produced, Venice, 1818. In 1845 he was stricken with paralysis. He died at Bergamo, April 8, 1848.
L’ELISIRE D’AMORE
THE ELIXIR OF LOVE
Opera, in two acts. Music by Donizetti; words by Felice Romani. Produced, Milan, May 12, 1832; London, December 10, 1836; New Orleans, March 30, 1842; New York, Academy of Music, 1883-84, with Gerster; Metropolitan Opera House, 1904, with Sembrich, Caruso, Scotti, and Rossi.
Characters
| Nemorino, a young peasant | Tenor |
| Adina, wealthy, and owner of a farm | Soprano |
| Belcore, a sergeant | Baritone |
| Dulcamara, a quack doctor | Bass |
| Giannetta, a peasant girl | Soprano |
Time—Nineteenth Century.
Place—A small Italian village.
Act I. Beauty and riches have made the young peasant woman, Adina, exacting. She laughs at the embarrassed courting of the true-hearted peasant lad, Nemorino; she laughs at the story of "Tristan and Isolde," and rejoices that there are now no more elixirs to bring the merry heart of woman into slavish dependence on love. Yet she does not seem so much indifferent to Nemorino as piqued over his lack of courage to come to the point.
Sergeant Belcore arrives in the village at the head of a troop of soldiers. He seeks to win Adina's heart by storm. The villagers tease Nemorino about his soldier rival. The young peasant is almost driven to despair by their raillery. Enter the peripatetic quack, Dr. Dulcamara. For a ducat Nemorino eagerly buys of him a flask of cheap Bordeaux, which the quack assures him is an elixir of love, and that, within twenty-four hours, it will enable him to win Adina. Nemorino empties the flask at a draught. A certain effect shows itself at once. Under the influence of the Bordeaux he falls into extravagant mirth, sings, dances—and grieves no more about Adina, who becomes piqued and, to vex Nemorino, engages herself to marry Sergeant Belcore. An order comes to the troops to move. The Sergeant presses for an immediate marriage. To this Adina, still under the influence of pique, consents. Nemorino seeks to console himself by louder singing and livelier dancing.
Act II. The village is assembled on Adina's farm to celebrate her marriage with the Sergeant. But it is noticeable that she keeps putting off signing the marriage contract. Nemorino awaits the effect of the elixir. To make sure of it, he buys from Dulcamara a second bottle. Not having the money to pay for it, and Belcore being on the lookout for recruits, Nemorino enlists and, with the money he receives, pays Dulcamara. The fresh dose of the supposed elixir makes Nemorino livelier than ever. He pictures to himself the glory of a soldier's career. He also finds himself greatly admired by the village girls, for enlisting. Adina also realizes that he has joined the army out of devotion to her, and indicates that she favours him rather than Belcore. But he now has the exalted pleasure of treating her with indifference, so that she goes away very sad. He attributes his luck to the elixir.
Photo by White
Hempel (Adina) and Caruso (Nemorino) in “L’Elisir d’Amore”
The villagers have learned that his rich uncle is dead and has left a will making him his heir. But because this news has not yet been communicated to him, he thinks their attentions due to the love-philtre, and believes the more firmly in its efficacy. In any event, Adina has perceived, upon the Sergeant's pressing her to sign the marriage contract, that she really prefers Nemorino. Like a shrewd little woman, she takes matters into her own hands, and buys back from Sergeant Belcore her lover's enlistment paper. Having thus set him free, she behaves so coyly that Nemorino threatens to seek death in battle, whereupon she faints right into his arms. The Sergeant bears this unlucky turn of affairs with the bravery of a soldier, while Dulcamara's fame becomes such that he can sell to the villagers his entire stock of Bordeaux for love elixir at a price that makes him rich.
The elixir of life of this "Elixir of Love" is the romance for tenor in the second act, "Una furtiva lagrima" (A furtive tear), which Nemorino sings as Adina sadly leaves him, when she thinks that he has become indifferent to her. It was because of Caruso's admirable rendition of this beautiful romance that the opera was revived at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, in 1904. Even the instrumental introduction to it, in which the bassoons carry the air, is captivating.
[Listen]
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Una furtiva lagrima Negl'occhi suoi spuntò; |
Act I is laid on Adina's farm. Adina has a florid air, "Chiedi all'aura lusinghiera" (Go, demand of yon light zephyr), with which she turns aside from Nemorino's attentions.
[Listen]
Chiedi all'aura lusinghiera,
The scene then changes to a square in the village. Here Dr. Dulcamara makes his entry, singing his buffo air, "Udite, udite, o rustici" (Give ear, now, ye rustic ones). There are two attractive duets in this scene. One is for Nemorino and Dr. Dulcamara, "Obbligato! obbligato!" (Thank you kindly! thank you kindly!).
[Listen]
The other, for Adina and Nemorino, is "Esulti pur la barbara per poco alle mie pene" (Tho' now th' exulting cruel one can thus deride my bitter pain).
Act II, which shows a room in Adina's farmhouse, opens with a bright chorus of rejoicing at her approaching wedding. Dulcamara brings out a piece of music, which he says is the latest thing from Venice, a barcarole for two voices. He and Adina sing it; a dainty duet, "Io son ricco, e tu sei bella" (I have riches, thou hast beauty) which figures in all the old potpourris of the opera.
[Listen]
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Io son ricco, e tu sei bella; Io ducati, e vezzi hai tu |
There is a scene for Nemorino, Giannetta, and the peasants, in which Nemorino praises the elixir, "Dell'elisir mirabile" (Of this most potent elixir). Later comes another duet for Adina and Dulcamara, "Quanto amore!" (What affection!) in which Adina expresses her realization of the death of Nemorino's affection for her.
"The score of 'Elisire d'Amore,'" says the Dictionnaire des Opéras, "is one of the most pleasing that the Bergamo composer has written in the comic vein. It abounds in charming motifs and graceful melodies. In the first act the duet for tenor and bass between the young villager and Dr. Dulcamara is a little masterpiece of animation, the accompaniment of which is as interesting as the vocal parts. The most striking passages of the second act are the chorus, 'Cantiamo, facciam brindisi'; the barcarole for two voices, 'Io son ricco, e tu sei bella'; the quartet, 'Dell'elisir mirabile'; the duet between Adina and Dulcamara, 'Quanto amore'; and finally the lovely and smoothly-flowing romance of Nemorino, 'Una furtiva lagrima,' which is one of the most remarkable inspirations of Donizetti."
LUCREZIA BORGIA
Opera, in a prologue and two acts, by Donizetti; words by Felice Romani, after Victor Hugo. Produced, La Scala, Milan, 1834; Théâtre des Italiens, Paris, 1840; London, 1839; in English, 1843; New York, Astor Place Opera House, 1847; with Grisi, September 5, 1854; with Tietjens and Brignoli, 1876; Academy of Music, October 30, 1882; Metropolitan Opera House, with Caruso, 1902.
Characters
| Alfonso d'Este, Duke of Ferrara | Baritone | |||
| Lucrezia Borgia | Soprano | |||
| Maffio Orsini | Contralto | |||
| Gennaro | } | Young noblemen in the service of the Venetian Republic | { | Tenor |
| Liverotto | } | { | Tenor | |
| Vitellozzo | } | { | Bass | |
| Gazello | Bass | |||
| Rustighello, in the service of Don Alfonso | Tenor | |||
| Gubetta | } | in the service of Lucrezia | { | Bass |
| Astolfo | } | { | Tenor | |
Gentlemen-at-arms, officers, and nobles of the Venetian Republic; same, attached to court of Alfonso; ladies-in-waiting, Capuchin monks, etc.
Time—Early sixteenth century.
Place—Venice and Ferrara.
When an opera, without actually maintaining itself in the repertory, nevertheless is an object of occasional revival, it is sure to contain striking passages that seem to justify the experiment of bringing it forward again. "Lucrezia Borgia" has a male character, Maffio Orsini, sung by a contralto. Orsini's ballata, "Il segreto per esser felici" (O the secret of bliss in perfection), is a famous contralto air which Ernestine Schumann-Heink, with her voice of extraordinary range, has made well known all over the United States.
I quote the lines from the Ditson libretto:
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O the secret of bliss in perfection, Is never to raise an objection, Whether winter hang tears on the bushes, Or the summer-kiss deck them with blushes. Drink, and pity the fool who on sorrow, Ever wastes the pale shade of a thought. Never hope for one jot from the morrow, Save a new day of joy by it brought! |
The music has all the dash and abandon that the words suggest. Orsini sings it at a banquet in Ferrara. Suddenly from a neighbouring room comes the sound of monks' voices chanting a dirge. A door opens. The penitents, still chanting, enter. The lights grow dim and one by one go out. The central doors swing back. Lucrezia Borgia appears in the entrance. The banqueters are her enemies. She has poisoned the wine they have just quaffed to Orsini's song. They are doomed. The dirge is for them. But—what she did not know—among them is Gennaro, her illegitimate son, whom she dearly loves. She offers him an antidote, but in vain. He will not save himself, while his friends die. She then discloses the fact that she is his mother. But, even then, instead of accepting her proffered aid to save his life, he repulses her. Lucrezia herself then drains the poisoned cup from which he has quaffed, and sinks, dying, upon his prostrate form. Such is the sombre setting for the Brindisi—the drinking song—"the secret of bliss in perfection"—when heard in the opera.
[Listen]
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Il segreto per esser felici Sò per prova e l'insegno agli amici |
The tenor rôle of Gennaro also has tempted to occasional revivals of the work. Mario introduced for this character as a substitute for a scene in the second act, a recitative and air by Lillo, "Com'è soave quest'ora di silenzio" (Oh! how delightful this pleasing hour of silence), a change which is sometimes followed.
Prologue. Terrace of the Grimani palace, Venice. Festival by night. Gennaro, weary, separates from his friends and falls asleep on a stone bench of the terrace. Here he is discovered by Lucrezia, who is masked. She regards him with deep affection. "Com'è bello quale incanto" (Holy beauty, child of nature) she sings.
[Listen]
Com'è bello quale incanto
Gennaro awakens. In answer to her questions he tells her that he has been brought up by a poor fisherman, "Di pescatore ignobile" (Deem'd of a fisher's lowly race).
[Listen]
Di pescatore ignobile
The youth's friends come upon the scene. Maffio Orsini tears the mask from Lucrezia's face, and in a dramatic concerted number he and his friends remind Lucrezia, for the benefit of Gennaro, who had been struck by her beauty and was unaware that she was the hated Borgia, how each has lost a brother or other relative through her. "Maffio Orsini, signora, son'io cui svenaste il dormente fratello" (Madam, I am Orsini. My brother you did poison, the while he was sleeping). And so each one in order.
[Listen]
Maffio Orsini, signora, son'io
Gennaro turns from her in loathing. She faints.
Act I. A public place in Ferrara. On one side a palace. Alfonso, who, incidentally, is Lucrezia's fourth husband, she having done away with his predecessors by poison, or other murderous means, is jealous of Gennaro. Like the youth himself, he is ignorant that Lucrezia is his mother, and is persuaded that he is her paramour. He has two solos. The first is "Vieni, la mia vendetta" (Haste then to glut a vengeance); the second, "Qualunque sia l'evento" (On this I stake my fortune).
[Listen]
Qualunque sia l'evento che può recar fortuna,
Gennaro and his friends come into the Plaza. They see the letters borgia under the escutcheon of the palace. Gennaro, to show his detestation of Lucrezia's crimes, rushes up the steps and with his sword hacks away the first letter of the name, leaving only orgia. At the command of the Duke, he is arrested.
Lucrezia, not knowing who has committed the outrage, demands of her husband that its perpetrator be put to death. Alfonso, with cynical readiness, consents. Gennaro is led in. Lucrezia now pleads for his life. The Duke is firm, even though Lucrezia quite casually reminds him that he is her fourth husband and may share the fate of the other three. ("Aye, though the fourth of my husbands, you lord it.") His comment is the command that Gennaro shall meet death by quaffing a goblet of poisoned wine handed to him by Lucrezia herself. There is here a strong trio for Lucrezia, Gennaro, and Alfonso, as Alfonso pours wine for himself and Lucrezia from a silver flagon, while he empties the poisoned contents of a gold vessel, "the Borgia wine," into Gennaro's cup. But Lucrezia has the antidote; and, the Duke having left her with Gennaro, in order that she shall have the pleasure of watching the death of the man of whom he suspects her to be enamored, she gives it to Gennaro, and bids him flee from Ferrara.
Act II is laid in the Negroni palace, and is the scene of the banquet, which has already been described.
When "Lucrezia Borgia" was produced in Paris, in 1840, Victor Hugo, author of the drama upon which the libretto is based, objected. The French have long gone much further than we do in protecting the property rights of authors and artists in their creations. The producers of the opera were obliged to have the libretto rewritten. The title was changed to "La Rinegata" and the scene was transferred to Turkey.
LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR
Opera in three acts, by Donizetti; words by Salvatore Cammarano, after Scott's novel, "The Bride of Lammermoor." Produced, San Carlo Theatre, Naples, September 26, 1835, with Persiani as Lucia, and Duprez as Edgardo, the rôles having been especially composed for these artists. London, Her Majesty's Theatre, April 5, 1838, and, in English, at the Princess Theatre, January 19, 1848. Paris, 1839. New York in English, at the Park Theatre, November 17, 1845; and, in Italian, November 14, 1849. Among celebrated Lucias heard in this country, are Patti, Gerster, Melba, Sembrich, Tetrazzini and Galli-Curci (Chicago, November 21, 1916); among Edgardos, Italo Campanini and Caruso.
Characters
| Lord Henry Ashton, of Lammermoor | Baritone |
| Lucy, his sister | Soprano |
| Edgar, Master of Ravenswood | Tenor |
| Lord Arthur Bucklaw | Tenor |
| Raymond, chaplain at Lammermoor | Bass |
| Alice, companion to Lucy | Mezzo-Soprano |
| Norman, follower of Lord Ashton | Tenor |
Relatives, Retainers, and Friends of the House of Lammermoor.
Time—About 1700.
Place—Scotland.
(Note. The characters in Italian are Enrico, Lucia, Edgardo, Arturo, Raimondo, Alisa, and Normanno.)
"Lucia di Lammermoor" is generally held to be Donizetti's finest work. "In it the vein of melody—now sparkling, now sentimental, now tragic—which embodies Donizetti's best claim on originality and immortality, finds, perhaps, freest and broadest development." These words are quoted from Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, a volume that rarely pauses to comment on an individual work. "Lucia" is indeed its composer's masterpiece; and a masterpiece of Italian opera in the older definition of that term. Its melodies are many and beautiful, and even when ornate in passages, are basically expressive of the part of the tragic story to which they relate. Moreover, the sextet at the end of the second act when Edgar of Ravenswood appears upon the scene just as Lucy with trembling hand has affixed her signature to the contract of marriage between Lord Bucklaw and herself, ranks as one of the finest pieces of dramatic music in all opera, and as a concerted number is rivalled, in Italian opera, by only one other composition, the quartet in "Rigoletto."
The sextet in "Lucia" rises to the full height of the dramatic situation that has been created. It does so because the music reflects the part each character plays in the action. It has "physiognomy"—individual aspect and phraseology for each participant in the drama; but, withal, an interdependence, which blends the voices, as they are swept along, into one grand, powerful, and dramatic climax.
Another number, the mad scene in the third act, gives coloratura sopranos an opportunity for technical display equal to that afforded by the lesson scene in "Il Barbiere di Siviglia"; and, unlike the latter, the music does not consist of interpolated selections, but of a complete scena with effective recitatives and brilliant solos, that belong to the score.
In the story of "Lucia," the heroine's brother, Lord Henry Ashton of Lammermoor, in order to retrieve his fallen fortunes, and extricate himself from a perilous situation in which his participation in political movements directed against the King has placed him, arranges a marriage between his sister and Lord Arthur Bucklaw. Lucy herself knows nothing of this arrangement. Henry, on the other hand, is equally ignorant of an attachment which exists between Lucy and Edgar of Ravenswood, between whose family and his own there long has been a deadly feud. When he discovers it, he uses the most underhand methods to break it off.
Edgar of Ravenswood is the last of his race. While he is absent on a mission to France in the interests of Scotland, he despatches many letters to Lucy. These letters are intercepted by Henry who also arranges that a forged paper, tending to prove the infidelity of Edgar, is shown to Lucy. Urged by the necessities of her brother, and believing herself deserted by her lover, Lucy unwillingly consents to become the bride of Lord Arthur Bucklaw. But, just as she has signed the marriage contract, Edgar of Ravenswood suddenly appears. He has returned from France, and now comes to claim the hand of Lucy—but too late. Convinced that Lucy has betrayed his love, he casts the ring she gave him at her feet and invokes imprecations upon her and his ancient enemies, the House of Lammermoor.
At night he is sought out in his gloomy castle by Henry. They agree upon a duel to be fought near the tombs of the Ravenswoods, on the ensuing morning, when Edgar, weary of life, and the last of a doomed race, intends to throw himself on his adversary's weapon. But the burden of woe has proved too much for Lucy to bear. At night, after retiring, she goes out of her mind, slays her husband, and dies of her sorrows.
Edgar awaits his enemy in the churchyard of Ravenswood. But Ashton has fled. Instead, Edgar's solitude is interrupted by a train of mourners coming from the Castle of Lammermoor. Upon hearing of Lucy's death he plunges his dagger into his breast, and sinks down lifeless in the churchyard where repose the remains of his ancestors.
On the stage this story is developed so that shortly after the curtain rises on Act I, showing a grove near the Castle of Lammermoor, Henry learns from Norman the latter's suspicions that Lucy and Edgar have been meeting secretly in the park of Lammermoor. Norman has despatched his huntsmen to discover, if they can, whether or not his suspicions are correct. "Cruda funesta smania" (each nerve with fury trembleth) sings Henry.
Returning, the hunters relate, in a brisk chorus, that
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Long they wander'd o'er the mountain, Search'd each cleft around the fountain, |
finally to learn by questioning a falconer that the intruder upon the domain of Lammermoor was none other than Edgar of Ravenswood. Rage and the spirit of revenge are expressed in Henry's vigorous aria, "La pietade in suo favore" (From my breast I mercy banish).
[Listen]
La pietade in suo favore
The scene changes to the park near a fountain. What now occurs is usually as follows. The curtain rises, and shows the scene—evening and moonlight. There is played a beautiful harp solo, an unusual and charming effect in opera. Having prepared the mood for the scene which is to follow, it is promptly encored and played all over again. Then Lucy appears with her companion, Alice. To her she relates the legend of the fountain, "Regnava nel silenzio" (Silence o'er all was reigning).
[Listen]
Regnava nel silenzio
This number gives an idea of the characteristics of Lucy's principal solos. It is brilliant in passages, yet its melody is dreamy and reflective. Largely due to this combination of traits is the popularity of "Lucia di Lammermoor," in which, although there is comparatively little downright cheerful music, it is relieved of gloom by the technical brilliancy for which it often calls;—just as, in fact, Lucy's solo following the legend of the fountain, dispels the dark forebodings it inspired. This second solo for Lucy, one of the best-known operatic numbers for soprano, is the "Quando rapito" (Then swift as thought).
[Listen]
Quando rapito in estasi del più cocente ardore
Another beautiful and familiar number is the duet between Lucy and Edgar, who has come to tell her of his impending departure for France and to bid her farewell: "Verranno a te sull'aure" (My sighs shall on the balmy breeze).
[Listen]
Verranno a te sull'aure i miei sospiri ardenti
Act II. Apartment in the Castle of Lammermoor. "Il pallor funesto, orrendo" (See these cheeks so pale and haggard).
[Listen]
Il pallor funesto, orrendo
In this sad air Lucy protests to her brother against the marriage which he has arranged for her with Bucklaw. Henry then shows her the forged letter, which leads her to believe that she has been betrayed by her lover. "Soffriva nel pianto, languia nel dolore" (My sufferings and sorrow I've borne without repining) begins the duet between Lucy and Henry with an especially effective cadenza—a dramatic number.
Though believing herself deserted by Edgar, Lucy still holds back from the thought of marriage with another, and yields only to save her brother from a traitor's death, and even then not until she has sought counsel from Raymond, the chaplain of Lammermoor, who adds his persuasions to Henry's.
The scene of the signing of the dower opens with a quick, bright chorus of guests who have assembled for the ceremony.
[Listen]
There is an interchange of courtesies between Henry and Arthur; and then Lucy enters. The sadness of her mien is explained by her brother to Arthur on the ground that she is still mourning the death of her mother. Desperate, yet reluctant, Lucy signs the contracts of dower; and at that moment, one of the most dramatic in opera, Edgar, a sombre figure, but labouring under evident though suppressed tension, appears at the head of the broad flight of steps in the background, and slowly comes forward.
The orchestra preludes briefly:
[Listen]
Photo by Mishkin
Caruso as Edgardo in “Lucia di Lammermoor”
Photo copyright, 1916, by Victor Georg
Galli-Curci as Lucia in “Lucia di Lammermoor”
The greatest ensemble number in Italian opera, the sextet, has begun. Edgardo: "Chi mi frena in tal momento? Chi troncò dell'ire il corso?" (What restrains me at this moment? Why my sword do I not straightway draw?):
[Listen]
Chi mi frena in tal momento?
Because he sees Lucy "as a rose 'mid tempest bending":
[Listen]
Even Henry is moved to exclaim, "To my own blood I am a traitor":
[Listen]
The chorus swells the volume of sound, but Lucy's voice soars despairingly above all:
[Listen]
Lucy and Edgar—they are the victims of Henry's treachery, as will soon transpire.
Act III. The first scene is laid in Edgar's gloomy castle, whither at night comes Henry to challenge him to a duel at morn.
The scene then changes back to Lammermoor, where the wedding guests still are feasting. Their revels are halted by Raymond, who, horror-stricken, announces to them that Lucy has gone mad and slain her husband; and soon the unhappy bride herself appears. Then follows the mad scene, one of the greatest "show numbers" for soprano, with the further merit that it fits perfectly into the scheme of the work.
This is an elaborate scena. In an earlier part of the opera Donizetti made effective use of a harp. In the mad scene he introduces a flute obligato, which plays around the voice, joins with it, touches it with sharp, brilliant accentuations, and glides with it up and down the scale in mellifluous companionship.
In a brief article in The Musician, Thomas Tapper writes that "to perform the mad scene has been an inspiration and incentive to attainment for many singers. Its demands are severe. There must be the 'mood,' that is, the characterization of the mental state of Lucy must be evidenced both in vocal tone and physical movement. The aria requires an unusual degree of facility. Its transparency demands adherence to pitch that must not vary a shade from the truth (note the passage where voice and flute are in unison). The coloratura soprano is here afforded unusual opportunity to display fluency and flexibility of voice, to portray the character that is 'as Ophelia was'; the dramatic intensity is paramount and must be sustained at a lofty eminence. In brief, the aria is truly a tour de force."
One of the best things in the above is its insistence on the "mood," the emotional situation that underlies the music. However brilliant the singing of the prima donna, something in her performance must yet convey to her hearers a sense of the sad fortunes of Lucy of Lammermoor.
To the accomplishment of this Donizetti lends a helping hand by introducing, as a mournful reminiscence, the theme of the first act love duet for Lucy and Edgar ("My sighs shall on the balmy breeze"); also by the dreaminess of the two melodies, "Alfin son tua" (Thine am I ever);
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and "Spargi d'amaro pianto" (Shed thou a tear of sorrow).
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Preceding the first of these, and also between the two, are dramatic recitatives, in which the flute, possibly introduced merely for musical effect, yet, with its clear, limpid notes, by no means untypical of Lucy's pure and spiritual personality, is prominent in the instrumental part of the score. Upon a brilliant phrase of vocalization, like "Yet shall we meet, dear Edgar, before the altar,"
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Qui ricovriamo, Edgardo, a piè dell'ara
it follows with this phrase:
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which simple, even commonplace, as it seems, nevertheless, in place, has the desired effect of ingenuousness and charm; while the passage beginning,
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has decided dramatic significance.
I also give an example of a passage in which flute and voice combine in a manner that requires impeccable intonation on the singer's part.
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a noi sarà, la vita etc.
The scena ends with a stretto, a concluding passage taken in more rapid tempo in order to enhance the effect.
It is always interesting to me to hear this scene, when well rendered, and to note the simple means employed by the composer to produce the impression it makes.
The flute is an instrument that long has been the butt of humorists. "What is worse than one flute?"—"Two flutes." This is a standard musical joke. The kind suggestion also has been volunteered that Lucy of Lammermoor went out of her head, not because she was deserted by Edgar, but because she was accompanied by a flute.
Nevertheless the flute is precisely the instrument required as an obligato to this scene. Italian composers, as a rule, pay little attention to instrumentation. Yet it is a fact that, when they make a special choice of an instrument in order to produce a desired effect, their selection usually proves a happy inspiration. The flute and the harp in "Lucia" are instances; the bassoons in the introduction to "Una furtiva lagrima" (A furtive tear) in "L'Elisire d'Amore" furnish another; and the wood-wind in the "Semiramide" duet, "Giorno d'orrore" (Dark day of horror) may also be mentioned.
There is a point in the mad scene where it is easy to modulate into the key of G major. Donizetti has written in that key the aria "Perchè non ho del vento" (Oh, for an eagle's pinions) which sopranos sometimes introduce during the scene, since it was composed for that purpose.
Probably the air is unfamiliar to opera-goers in this country. Lionel Mapleson, the librarian of the Metropolitan Opera House, never has heard it sung there, and was interested to know where I had found it. As it is a florid, brilliant piece of music, and well suited to the scene, I quote a line of it, as a possible hint to some prima donna.
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Perchè non ho del vento l'infaticabil vole
During the finale of the opera, laid near the churchyard where lie the bones of Edgar's ancestors, Lucy's lover holds the stage. His final aria, "Tu che a Dio spiegasti l'ali" (Tho' from earth thou'st flown before me), is a passage of mournful beauty, which has few equals in Italian opera.
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Tu che a Dio spiegasti l'ali, o bell'alma innamorata
Of the singers of former days who have been heard here as Lucia, Adelina Patti interpreted the rôle with the least effort and the greatest brilliancy. Hers was a pure flexible soprano, which seemed to flow forth spontaneously from an inexhaustible reservoir of song. Unfortunately she was heard here by many long after her day had passed. She had too many "farewells." But those who heard her at her best, always will remember her as the possessor of a naturally beautiful voice, exquisitely trained.
Italo Campanini, a tenor who was in his prime when Mapleson was impresario at the Academy of Music, was one of the great Edgardos. He was an elder brother of Cleofante Campanini, orchestral conductor and director of the Chicago Opera Company.
As for Caruso, rarely have I witnessed such excitement as followed the singing of the sextet the evening of his first appearance as Edgardo at the Metropolitan Opera House. It is a fact that the policeman in the lobby, thinking a riot of some sort had broken loose in the auditorium, grabbed his night stick and pushed through the swinging doors—only to find an audience vociferously demanding an encore. Even granted that some of the excitement was "worked up," it was, nevertheless, a remarkable demonstration.
The rôle of Enrico, though, of course, of less importance than Edgardo, can be made very effective by a baritone of the first rank. Such, for example, was Antonio Galassi, who, like Campanini, was one of Mapleson's singers. He was a tall, well-put-up man; and when, in the sextet, at the words "È mio rosa inaridita" (Of thine own blood thou'rt the betrayer), he came forward in one stride, and projected his voice into the proceedings, it seemed as if, no matter what happened to the others, he could take the entire affair on his broad shoulders and carry it through to success.