Semele Opera in Three Parts, Presented "After the Manner of an Oratorio"
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Semele Opera in three parts, presented "after the manner of an oratorio" Music by George Frideric Handel Libretto (in English) by William Congreve First performance: Covent Garden, London; February 10, 1744 Roles: Semele, daughter of Cadmus (soprano) Jupiter (tenor) Cadmus, king of Thebes (bass) Athamas, prince of Boeotia, fiancé of Semele (alto) Ino, sister of Semele, in love with Athamas (mezzo) Juno (mezzo) Iris, goddess helping Juno (soprano) High priest (bass) Somnus, god of sleep (bass) Apollo (tenor) ******************** Program note by Martin Pearlman Early in 1744, Handel announced the premiere of Semele, a new work "after the manner of an oratorio." It was indeed performed like an oratorio, that is, without sets or costumes and with soloists, chorus and orchestra placed on the stage as in a concert, but early on, many people recognized that Semele was very much like an opera in disguise. The drama resembled Handel's earlier Italian operas, focusing as it did on the tragedy played out by its characters, more than on the commentary of the chorus. Indeed William Congreve's libretto, from which Handel's was adapted, had originally been written decades earlier to be set as an opera by John Eccles (an opera which was never performed until the late twentieth century). Although the libretto was in English like the oratorios that Handel was currently writing, it made extensive use of the conventions of Italian opera, conventions such as da capo forms (A-B-A) for the majority of its arias, as well as a good deal of dramatic recitative. In part, presenting Semele "after the manner of an oratorio" was a business decision for Handel, who infuriated his competitors in the opera world by producing what was essentially an opera without any of the costs of sets or costumes. But the production proved controversial with the London public, as well. While it was a success with many listeners, many others, who had become accustomed to biblical subjects in their oratorios, found the story of Semele's passion for a god to be too licentious for the genre. Dr. Delany, a clergyman, refused to attend -- although his wife went to every performance. Charles Jennens, the librettist of Messiah and of several other Handel oratorios, sneered at the composer's attempt to pass off Semele as an oratorio, calling it "a bawdy opera." Later, the Victorian age did its best to tone down what some considered suggestive language in Congreve's libretto, excising, for example, the word "bed." The story of Semele is the story of the birth of the god Bacchus, a god perhaps best known today for introducing the pleasures of wine but also associated with ecstasy, frenzy and madness. Semele, a princess of Thebes, is beloved by Jupiter and, to her ruin, is infatuated by his attentions. Juno, always jealous of her wandering husband, appears to Semele in disguise and convinces her that she deserves to see her lover not only in his human guise but in his true divine form. Jupiter tries to dissuade her, but Semele pressures him to grant her wish. Accordingly, he appears to her in thunder and lightning, and she is consumed. From the flames, Jupiter snatches the baby that Semele is carrying and (though not told in this libretto) sews it up inside his thigh to mature, later to be born as the god Bacchus. Imagine a modern composer -- or, for that matter, Wagner or even Monteverdi -- being handed such a story: the birth of the orgiastic god Bacchus, Semele as the mother of madness and intoxication, her ecstatic love for Jupiter, her immolation. For all this we might expect a fiery, passionate treatment. But the tone of Handel's Semele is rather different. The music is extraordinarily beautiful and contains some of Handel's most famous arias, but it is not music of abandon and madness. Semele's great aria and chorus, "Endless pleasure, endless love," for example, is not a bacchanal at the Venusberg but, of all things, a gavotte, a beautiful and joyous dance to be sure, but one that is more courtly than passionate. And her immolation occurs during a relatively brief accompanied recitative. The drama is well served by such conventions, though, because Semele's ecstasy and the Dionysian madness that might attract writers of another era are not the focus for Handel and his eighteenth-century audience. Indeed, the birth of Bacchus is treated here almost as an afterthought. It is announced at the very end of the opera by the serene Apollo, and it leads to a happy finale. For Handel the real focus is on Semele's inappropriate love. She attempts to rise above her place in the order of things and mix with the gods, and in so doing she brings about her own demise. The myth of Semele is one of many in which mortals go beyond the set boundaries and are consumed by a divine fire. This is a lesson about order, both in nature and society--the very opposite of what we might expect today from a Bacchus myth! It tells us that deceptions and artifice are necessary to maintain an orderly society, that there are dangers in stripping away all illusions. Semele should have been content with Jupiter as she knew him and should not have demanded to see to his innermost being. Like so many dramas of the time, this one offers a reflection of an idealized society. It shows an ordered world from which the real world of the eighteenth century could draw a lesson. It made for a popular form of theater that is quite different from the more realistic mirror that a modern drama might hold up to society, a mirror in which we might find less certain moral lessons. But this "idealizing" opera has nothing fussy or academic about it. It has glorious, moving and theatrical music, a broad dramatic sweep, and vividly drawn characters ranging from the comical god of sleep to jealous Juno to the tragic Semele. For his own performances of Semele, Handel had an experienced cast of singers who had performed with him many times. The brilliant title role was written for Elisabeth Duparc (called La Francesina), who, the eighteenth-century historian Dr. Burney tells us, was known for her "lark-like execution" and "natural warble, and agility of voice, which Handel afterwards seems to have had great pleasure in displaying." Burney's description comes vividly to life when we hear the trills and other ornaments which Handel wrote into Semele's arias, "Myself I shall adore" and "The morning lark." The first Jupiter, John Beard, had sung with Handel since the age of 15 and performed more of Handel's music than any other singer, including tenor parts in the oratorios and odes, as well as in many operas. He was known to be an expressive actor, and it was for his fine voice that Handel wrote the work's most famous aria, "Where'er you walk." But given the drama's warning about Semele's attempt to mix with the gods, it is ironic that this original Jupiter had created a real-life scandal in London by marrying above his station. .