Paventa Insano

Pacin i and Me rcadant e•Arias and Ense mbles

ORR236

Box cover : ‘Hersilia throwing herself between Romulus and Tatius (The peace between the Romans and Sabines)’, 1645. By Giovanni Francesco Barbieri (1591-1666). Paris, Musee du Louvre. akg-images/Erich Lessing Booklet cover : Isabella Galletti Gianoli Opposite and CD face : Giovanni Pacini and Saviero Mercadante

–1– Producer and Artistic Director: Patric Schmid

Managing Director: Stephen Revell

Assistant producer: Jacqui Compton Assistant conductor: Robin Newton Répétiteur: Stuart Wild Vocal coach: Gerald Martin Moore Italian coach: Maria Cleva Assistant to the producer: Nigel Lax

Article and translations: Jeremy Commons

Recording Engineer: Chris Braclik Assistant Engineer: Chris Bowman

Editing: Patric Schmid, Jacqui Compton and Chris Braclik

Recorded at Henry Wood Hall, London February 2005

–2– CONTENTS

Paventa Insano: The outpouring of passion in Pacini and Mercadante...... Page 9

Paventa Insano: L’effusion passionnelle chez Pacini et Mercadante ...... Page 15

Paventa Insano: Ergüsse der leidenschaft: Pacini und Mercadante...... Page 21

Paventa Insano: L’espressione dei sentimenti nelle opere di Pacini e Mercadante...... Page 27

Notes and song texts...... Page 32

–3– PAVENTA INSANO

Duration Page [1] Giovanni Pacini Il corsaro ( Terzetto) 8’34 32 ‘Che intesi! è lui che adoro’ Annick Massis, Laura Polverelli, Bruce Ford

[2] Saverio Mercadante Elena da Feltre (Aria) 8’36 52 ‘Parmi che alfin dimentica’ Majella Cullagh

[3] Giovanni Pacini Stella di Napoli (Terzetto) 6’05 59 ‘Addio!... la tua memoria’ Majella Cullagh, Laura Polverelli, Bruce Ford

[4] Saverio Mercadante I Normanni a Parigi (Terzetto) 4’20 71 ‘Che tento? che spero?’ Annick Massis, Laura Polverelli, Kenneth Tarver

[5] Giovanni Pacini Il contestabile di Chester (Terzetto) 11’51 83 ‘Ah! partir il voto o ciel... Deh rammentate almeno’ Annick Massis, Majella Cullagh, Alan Opie

[6] Saverio Mercadante Andronico (Duetto) 2’57 101 ‘Nel seggio placido’ Majella Cullagh, Laura Polverelli

-4- Duration Page [7] Giovanni Pacini Cesare in Egitto (Terzetto) 4’32 108 ‘O bel lampo lusinghiero’ Annick Massis, Bruce Ford, Kenneth Tarver

[8] Saverio Mercadante Leonora (Quartetto) 4’46 120 ‘Tu tremi, indegno’ Bruce Ford, Roland Wood, Alan Opie, Henry Waddington

[9] Giovanni Pacini Allan Cameron (Aria finale) 16’49 129 ‘O d’un re martire, alma beata’ Annick Massis, Alan Opie

[10] Saverio Mercadante Virginia (Terzetto) 10’35 144 ‘Paventa insano gli sdegni miei’ Majella Cullagh, Bruce Ford, Alan Opie

Geoffrey Mitchell Choir London Philharmonic Orchestra David Parry, conductor

The music for this recording was prepared for Opera Rara by Ian Schofield and Chris Moss

–5– Giovanni Pacini Saverio Mercadante Francesca Festa Maffei

The first Irene Andronico PAVENTA INSANO: THE OUTPOURING OF PASSION IN PACINI AND MERCADANTE

VENTURE BEYOND the four greatest names in the operatic firmament of early 19th century Italy – delve beyond Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti and Verdi – and the next two composers to come to attention will always be Mercadante and Pacini. And more often than not they will be mentioned together in the same breath, as if they were colleagues and collaborators – which, let us hasten to add, they emphatically were not. Why, then, do we so often link them together? Is there good reason for doing so? Or is this an arbitrary juxtaposition which, become a platitude, should preferably be abandoned?

Our own feeling – and indeed the raison d’être behind the present recording – is that there is very good reason to link their names. They were, in the first place, very close contemporaries. Saverio Mercadante was born on 17 September 1795, and Giovanni Pacini on 17 February 1796 – a difference of only five months. Mercadante was born in Altamura, near Bari in Puglia, and Pacini in Catania, Sicily. Both, therefore, first saw the light of day in the deep south of Italy, though in Pacini’s case this was a fortuitous accident rather than any indication of true origin. His father, Luigi Pacini, was a famous basso buffo who simply happened to be in Catania – on tour – at the time his wife gave birth. Giovanni was, in fact, born in an inn or hostelry frequented by itinerant theatrical folk. The real home of the Pacini family lay in Tuscany, though precisely where has never been established. But

–9– conveniently he was able to enjoy, as it were, ‘dual nationality’ – he could live and work in Viareggio, Lucca and Pescia as a Tuscan, but could also, when it was to his advantage, point to his place of birth and claim to be Sicilian.

Both enjoyed long careers in the theatre and were, in an age when composers were expected to churn out operas one after another, conspicuously tenacious and prolific. Pacini composed well over 70 operas (though not ‘over 100’ as he himself claimed); Mercadante was hardly less productive, with something like 60 titles to his credit.

Both, too, grew up in the shadow of Rossini – an awkward time for any young composer, since the Rossinian mould of operatic composition had become the established norm all over Italy, sweeping the operas of older composers from the boards and imposing a pattern upon young composers, to which, if they wished to gain any hearing at all, they had to conform. As Pacini memorably put it in a celebrated passage in his autobiography, Le mie memorie artistiche (Florence, 1865): ‘But let me be allowed to observe that as many as were in those days my contemporaries, all followed the same school, the same modes of composing, and were in consequence imitators, like me, of the Greater Star . But, good God! What was one to do if there was no other way of supporting oneself?’

Yet both composers, though they may have begun as imitators of Rossini, in mid-career managed to break free and develop recognisable musical personalities of their own – recognisable styles in which they were able to

–10– pursue the depiction of the passions in ways that were increasingly their own. Both, consequently, are constantly mentioned in the history books as composers who, enriching the harmonic language and the orchestration of their day, anticipated the innovations and procedures of Verdi.

Even in these days of their maturity, they continued to have much in common. Both were concerned with concentrated drama: with ways of heightening the musical expression of stressful emotions and anguished states of mind. Both are constantly seeking new harmonic effects, while keeping within a traditional diatonic system. Both are clearly and constantly aware that a traditional harmonic system allows every slightest departure and variant to stand out and make a maximum effect, whereas – as 20th century composers were to discover to their cost – a wholesale abandonment of ‘rules’ means cutting oneself off from the traditional colours that come from the use of major and minor modes, from the use of individual keys and their traditional associations, from modulation one to another, and from all manner of long-honoured harmonic devices (the tierce de Picardie , the Neapolitan 6th and many more). Licence may result in freedom, but it also leads to a loss of traditional reference points.

But let us not be led away from Mercadante and Pacini. Both, in addition to their search for rich and satisfying harmonic effects, break new ground in orchestration. Again they look for the unusual – the use of new or unusual instruments, often in unexpected combinations – and combine this quest with a liking for bravura writing for solo instruments, particularly in

–11– atmospheric preludes and interludes. Both, too, are steeped in what can only be described as richly lyrical Italianate melody – melody that ultimately springs from folksong, but which has been developed, broadened and intensified through the use of strong sonorous voices – and they both, Mercadante especially, make use, in the operas of their maturity, of the so- called motivo spiegato , the broadly flowing, rolling and on-going melody which forms the basis of so many of their ensembles and concertati .

Yet, though there is thus a great deal of common ground or overlap between them, there are also recognisable different characteristics. John Black, when mentioning, in his book on the librettist Salvatore (or Salvadore) Cammarano 1, that the text of Orazi e Curiazi was offered initially to Pacini but was more appropriately set by Mercadante, perceptively put his finger on these differences. As he wrote there: ‘ Orazi e Curiazi was undoubtedly a fine subject for an opera […] but it suited the slow-moving, statuesque treatment that Mercadante was to bring to it […] rather than the more quicksilver treatment Pacini could offer.’ Mercadante is, indeed, the more weighty and substantial of the two, whereas Pacini has a never-to-be-satiated propensity to veer towards cabaletta motifs that are striking because they are rhythmically jerky and unexpected, and towards choruses that are similarly chirpy and chattery, rhythmically syncopated and brittle.

______1 John Black, The Italian Romantic Libretto: A Study of Salvadore Cammarano (Edinburgh, 1984), p. 101.

–12– Everything that has been suggested here will, we believe, be amply illustrated by the wide range of music performed on the present disc. Both composers conduct us through a gamut of emotions: love, joy, anxiety, distress, defiance, hatred, perplexity, the emotions that accompany self- sacrifice for others. While the selected items include extracts from two early operas (Mercadante’s Andronico and Pacini’s Cesare in Egitto ), the greater emphasis is on their ‘middle’ periods (Pacini’s Il contestabile di Chester and Il corsaro and Mercadante’s I Normanni a Parigi ) and later works (Mercadante’s Elena da Feltre , Leonora and Virginia and Pacini’s Stella di Napoli and Allan Cameron ) – operas which show their characteristics at their most developed and masterly. © Jeremy Commons, 2005

–13– Stuart Wild (Répétiteur), Majella Cullagh and Patric Schmid (Producer) PAVENTA INSANO : L’EFFUSION PASSIONNELLE CHEZ PACINI ET MERCADANTE

OUTRE LES quatre grands noms au firmament de l’opéra italien du début du XIX e siècle – Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti et Verdi – deux compositeurs ne manquent jamais de retenir l’attention : Mercadante et Pacini. Ils sont cités ensemble le plus souvent comme s’il s’agissait de collègues ou de collaborateurs – ce qui, je m’empresse de le dire, n’est absolument pas le cas. Alors pourquoi leurs noms se trouvent-ils si souvent associés ? Y a-t-il quelque bonne raison à cela ? Ou s’agit-il d’un rapprochement arbitraire, devenu un lieu commun, auquel il serait désormais préférable de renoncer.

Nous sommes d’avis – et c’est la raison d’être du présent enregistrement – que le rapprochement est tout à fait justifié. D’abord ils sont contemporains : ils sont nés à cinq mois d’écart seulement – Saverio Mercadante le 17 septembre 1795, Giovanni Pacini le 17 février 1796. Mercadante est né à Altamura, près de Bari dans les Pouilles, Pacini à Catane en Sicile. L’un et l’autre virent donc le jour dans le sud profond de l’Italie, bien que pour Pacini ce fût le résultat d’un simple hasard. Son père, Luigi Pacini, était un célèbre basso buffo qui se trouvait à Catane – en tournée – au moment où accouchait sa femme. En fait, Giovanni est né dans une auberge ou une hostellerie fréquentée par les troupes ambulantes. On sait que les Pacini étaient originaires de Toscane, sans pouvoir pour autant préciser la localité. Toujours est-il que Pacini était en mesure de prétendre, pour ainsi dire, à une « double nationalité » : vivre et travailler à Viareggio, Lucques et Pescia en tant que

–15– toscan, mais tout aussi bien, en cas de besoin, se dire sicilien en se réclamant de son lieu de naissance.

Ils firent, l’un et l’autre, une longue carrière et, à une époque où les compositeurs étaient censés produire un opéra après l’autre, se montrèrent remarquablement tenaces et prolixes. Pacini composa plus de soixante-dix opéras (et non pas la « bonne centaine » qu’il s’attribue lui-même) ; quant à Mercadante, avec près de soixante titres à son actif, il ne fut guère moins productif.

Ils grandirent tous deux également dans l’ombre de Rossini. C’était une époque difficile pour les jeunes compositeurs, car le modèle rossinien dominait dans toute l’Italie : Rossini avait évincé de la scène lyrique les œuvres de ses prédécesseurs, imposant ainsi aux jeunes compositeurs un moule auquel ils devaient se conformer s’ils voulaient faire entendre leur voix. Comme le dit si bien Pacini dans un célèbre passage de son autobiographie, Le mie memorie artistiche (Florence, 1865): « Tous mes contemporains suivaient la même école, la même manière ; aussi étaient-ils comme moi des imitateurs de la grande étoile de l’époque. Mais, Grand Dieu, que faire quand on n’a nul autre moyen de subvenir à ses besoins ? »

Tout en ayant commencé par imiter Rossini, Mercadante et Pacini parvinrent néanmoins, au milieu de leur carrière, à se libérer de ce modèle et à développer leur propre personnalité musicale – un style individuel, reconnaissable en tant que tel, permettant à chacun de poursuivre sa

–16– description des passions humaines avec toujours plus d’originalité. C’est la raison pour laquelle ils sont présentés ensemble dans les livres d’histoire de la musique comme des compositeurs qui enrichirent l’idiome harmonique et l’orchestration de leur époque, annonçant ainsi les innovations et les procédures of Verdi.

Parvenus à la maturité, ils n’en conservèrent pas moins certains traits communs. Soucieux d’accroître l’intensité dramatique, ils cherchèrent les moyens de rehausser l’expression musicale de la tension affective et de l’angoisse. Ils étaient également en quête de nouveaux effets harmoniques, sans pour autant remettre en question le système diatonique traditionnel. Manifestement, ils ne perdirent jamais de vue le fait que ce type de système harmonique permet de faire ressortir le moindre écart, la moindre variation, et d’en tirer le meilleur effet, alors que l’abandon total des « règles » établies – ainsi que l’apprendraient à leurs propres dépens les compositeurs du XX e siècle – amène à se priver du contraste entre les modes majeur et mineur, de leur utilisation individuelle et des associations conventionnelles qui en résultent, du passage de l’un à l’autre, et de toutes sortes d’intervalles depuis longtemps consacrés par l’usage (tierce de Picardie, sixte napolitaine, etc.). La licence peut être source de liberté, mais elle conduit à la perte des points de repère traditionnels.

Mais revenons à Mercadante et Pacini. Outre la recherche d’effets harmoniques riches et satisfaisants, ils innovèrent en matière d’orchestration. Ils tentèrent à nouveau de créer la surprise par le recours à des instruments

–17– nouveaux ou inhabituels, souvent combinés de manière originale, recherche de l’inattendu s’alliant chez eux à un amour de l’écriture virtuose pour un instrument, dont témoignent notamment préludes et interludes évocateurs. Ils sont également tous deux profondément attachés à ce qu’on pourrait appeler la « mélodie à l’italienne » – une mélodie intensément lyrique, issue en fin de compte de la tradition folklorique, mais développée, élargie et intensifiée par le recours à des voix puissantes et sonores – ; et dans les opéras de leur maturité ils utilisent l’un et l’autre, mais surtout Mercadante, ce qu’on a coutume d’appeler le motivo spiegato , mélodie ample, fluide et entraînante qui forme la base de tant de leurs ensembles et concertati .

Malgré ces nombreux points communs et recoupements possibles, il existe aussi toutefois des différences marquées et reconnaissables entre les deux compositeurs. Dans le livre qu’il consacre au librettiste Salvatore (or Salvadore) Cammarano 1, John Black met finement le doigt sur ce qui les différencie lorsqu’il constate que le texte des Orazi e Curiazi , proposé dans un premier temps à Pacini, bénéficia avec Mercadante d’un traitement musical plus approprié. « Les Oraces et les Curiaces, dit-il, est incontestablement un beau sujet d’opéra […] mais qui convenait mieux à la lenteur et à la pondération d’un Mercadante […] qu’à la vivacité d’un Pacini. » Le style de Mercadante a, en effet, plus de poids, plus de substance, tandis que Pacini est irrémédiablement porté vers la cabaletta au rythme saccadé et riche en ______1 John Black, The Italian Romantic Libretto: A Study of Salvadore Cammarano (Édimbourg, 1984), p. 101.

–18– surprises, et manifeste une forte prédilection pour des chœurs joyeux et bavards au rythme syncopé et instable.

L’ensemble de ces caractéristiques nous paraît amplement illustré dans le présent florilège. On y découvrira en compagnie de Mercadante et de Pacini une riche gamme d’émotions : amour, joie, angoisse, douleur, défi, haine, doute, et tous ces sentiments qui accompagnent le sacrifice de soi au bénéfice d’autrui. S’il comporte des extraits de deux opéras de jeunesse ( Andronico de Mercadante et Cesare in Egitto de Pacini), ce disque met surtout l’accent sur les œuvres de la maturité ( Il contestabile di Chester et Il corsaro de Pacini ; I Normanni a Parigi de Mercadante) et les opéras plus tardifs ( Elena da Feltre , Leonora et Virginia de Mercadante ; Stella di Napoli et Allan Cameron de Pacini), autant de pages qui permettent d’apprécier le talent de ces deux compositeurs au sommet de leur développement et de leur art.

© Jeremy Commons, 2005

–19– Robin Newton (assistant conductor) PAVENTA INSANO ERGÜSSE DER LEIDENSCHAFT : PACINI UND MERCADANTE

WER ÜBER DEN erlauchten Kreis der vier größten Namen in der italienischen Oper des frühen 19. Jahrhunderts hinausblickt – also über Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti und Verdi hinaus –, begegnet unweigerlich den Komponisten Mercadante und Pacini. Und praktisch immer werden diesen zwei Namen in einem Atemzug genannt, als seien die beiden Kollegen gewesen, hätten gar zusammen gearbeitet – was sie, woran hier nachdrücklich erinnert werden soll, keineswegs waren noch taten. Warum also stellen wir eine derart enge Beziehung zwischen ihnen her? Gibt es einen Grund dafür? Oder ist es vielleicht eine willkürliche Paarung, die zum Klischee geworden ist und von dem wir uns schleunigst trennen sollten?

Unserer Meinung nach – und die bildet den Ausgangspunkt der vorliegenden Aufnahme – gibt es triftige Gründe, eine Verbindung zwischen diesen beiden Komponisten herzustellen. Zum Einen waren sie praktisch gleich alt: Saverio Mercadante wurde am 17. September 1795 geboren, Giovanni Pacini gerade fünf Monate später, nämlich am 17. Februar 1796. Mercadante kam in Altamura zur Welt, in der Nähe von Bari in Puglia, Pacini im sizilianischen Catania. Beide stammten also aus dem tiefen Süden Italiens, obwohl es bei Pacini lediglich ein glücklicher Zufall war und kein Verweis auf seine eigentliche Herkunft. Sein Vater Luigi Pacini war ein berühmter basso buffo , der zum Zeitpunkt der Geburt seines Sohnes mit seiner Frau zufällig auf Konzertreise in Catania weilte; so kam Giovanni in

–21– einem Gasthof zur Welt, in dem sich umherziehende Theaterleute gerne einquartierten. Die eigentliche Heimat der Pacinis lag irgendwo in der Toskana, der genaue Ort entzieht sich allerdings unserer Kenntnis. Doch dieser glückliche Umstand ermöglichte Pacini, sich als Komponist mit zwei „Staatsbürgerschaften“ zu verstehen: In Viareggio, Lucca und Pescia konnte er als Toskaner leben und arbeiten, bei Bedarf verwies er aber auch auf seinen Geburtsort und gab sich als Sizilianer aus.

Beide Komponisten erfreuten sich einer langen Laufbahn am Theater und waren zu einer Zeit, in der Komponisten eine Oper nach der anderen zu produzieren hatten, außergewöhnlich zuverlässig und schaffensfreudig. Pacini komponierte gut siebzig Opern (allerdings nicht „über hundert“, wie er selbst behauptete), und Mercadante war mit seinen rund sechzig Bühnenwerken kaum minder produktiv.

Zudem wuchsen beide im Schatten Rossinis auf, dessen Formel der Opernkomposition in ganz Italien zur Norm erhoben worden war. Die Opern älterer Komponisten waren von den Spielplänen gestrichen, jüngere Komponisten mussten, um überhaupt Gehör zu finden, sich diesem Muster anpassen: eine eher hemmende als ermutigende Herausforderung. So schrieb Pacini in seiner Autobiografie Le mie memorie artistiche (Florenz, 1865) die denkwürdigen Zeilen: „Doch möchte ich anmerken dürfen, dass die vielen meiner Zeitgenossen alle derselben Schule folgten, alle derselben Methodik, womit sie, wie ich, dem großen Stern nacheiferten – aber guter Gott! Was sollte man tun, wenn man sonst keine Möglichkeit hatte, sich über Wasser zu halten?“ –22– Auch wenn diese beiden Komponisten anfangs in die Fußstapfen Rossinis traten, befreiten sie sich in der Mitte ihrer Laufbahn von dessen Einfluss und entwickelten sich zu eigenständigen Musikern mit einem unverkennbaren Stil, in dem sie Leidenschaften auf eine zunehmend individuelle Art zum Ausdruck brachten. Somit werden sie in den Geschichtsbüchern mit Fug und Recht als Komponisten genannt, die die harmonische Sprache und die Orchestrierung der damaligen Zeit bereicherten und bereits die Neuerungen und Methoden Verdis vorwegnahmen.

Selbst in ihrer Reifezeit hatten sie noch zahlreiche Gemeinsamkeiten. Beiden ging es um die Konzentration des Dramatischen, um Möglichkeiten, den musikalischen Ausdruck emotional ergreifender Situationen und eines gequälten Geisteszustands zu steigern. Beide suchten ständig nach neuen harmonischen Effekten, ohne den Rahmen des herkömmlichen diatonischen Systems zu sprengen. Beiden war deutlich bewusst, dass in diesem tradierten System die mindeste Abweichung, die kleinste Variante ins Auge sticht und dadurch großes Gewicht erhält, während die Loslösung von allen „Regeln“ bedeutet, dass man auf die Klangfarben verzichtet, die sich eben durch die Verwendung von Dur und Moll ergeben, durch den Einsatz unterschiedlicher Tonarten und ihrer herkömmlichen Assoziationen, Modulationen und die zahlreichen harmonischen Möglichkeiten (etwa die picardische Terz, der neapolitanische Sextakkord und viele andere mehr). Was dies letztlich bedeutet, mussten Komponisten des 20. Jahrhunderts zu ihrem Schaden feststellen. Künstlerische Freiheit ist zwar zweifellos eine Freiheit, nimmt dem Komponisten aber auch jeden traditionellen Bezugspunkt. –23– Doch wollen wir nicht von Mercadante und Pacini abschweifen. Beide suchten nicht nur beständig nach üppigen, ansprechenden Harmonieeffekten, sie waren auch bahnbrechend hinsichtlich der Orchestrierung. Wieder ging es ihnen um das Ausgefallene – ungewöhnliche oder neue Instrumente, die sie vielfach auf verblüffende Weise paarten –, und damit ging eine Vorliebe für Bravourpassagen in den Soloinstrumenten einher, insbesondere in atmosphärischen Vor- oder Zwischenspielen. Zudem bedienen sich beide einer Melodiesprache, die man nur als zutiefst lyrisch und zutiefst italienisch bezeichnen kann – und einer Melodiesprache, die letztlich auf das Volkslied zurückgeht, doch durch den Einsatz kräftiger, tragender Stimmen weiterentwickelt und ausgebaut wurde und damit an Ausdruckskraft gewann. Und sie beide, Mercadante wohl noch mehr als Pacini, setzten in den Opern ihrer Reifezeit das so genannte motivo spiegato ein, die breit fließende, strömende Melodie, die die Grundlage vieler ihrer Ensembles und concertati bildet.

Doch trotz dieser vieler Gemeinsamkeiten und Ähnlichkeiten gibt es unverkennbar auch Unterschiede. In seinem Buch über den Librettisten Salvatore (oder Salvadore) Cammarano 1 schrieb John Black, dass der Text von Orazi e Curiazi ursprünglich Pacini angeboten, doch dann kongenial von Mercadante vertont wurde, und verdeutlichte dann die Unterschiede zwischen den beiden: „ Orazi e Curiazi war zweifellos ein großartiger ______1 John Black, The Italian Romantic Libretto: A Study of Salvadore Cammarano (Edinburgh, 1984), S. 101

–24– Opernstoff […], aber er eignete sich eher für die behäbige, monumentale Musik, mit der Mercadante ihn zu Leben erwecken konnte […], als für die spritzigere Musik, die einen Pacini auszeichnete.“ Mercadante ist eindeutig der gewichtigere der beiden Komponisten, während Pacini eine unstillbare Vorliebe für Cabaletta-Motive hatte, die durch ihre rhythmische Sprunghaftigkeit und ihr Überraschungsmoment bestechen, und für Chöre, die ähnlich zwitschern und plappern, ähnlich rhythmisch synkopiert und unbeständig sind.

Alle Aspekte, die hier angesprochen wurden, sind zumindest unserer Ansicht nach in den sehr unterschiedlichen Beispielen der vorliegenden Einspielung deutlich zu hören. Beide Komponisten warten mit einer breiten Gefühlspalette auf: Liebe, Freude, Angst, Kummer, Trotz, Hass, Verwunderung, die Gefühle, die mit der Selbstaufopferung für andere einhergehen. Zwar sind auch Auszüge aus zwei frühen Opern enthalten (Mercadantes Andronico und Pacinis Cesare in Egitto ), doch es überwiegen Werke der „mittleren“ Phase (Pacinis Il contestabile di Chester und Il corsaro sowie Mercadantes I Normanni a Parigi ) und der späteren Zeit (Mercadantes Elena da Feltre , Leonora und Virginia und Pacinis Stella di Napoli und Allan Cameron ) – Opern, die diese Eigenschaften in all ihrer Ausgereiftheit und Meisterschaft vermitteln. © Jeremy Commons, 2005

–25– David Parry (conductor), Maria Cleva (Italian coach) and Gerald Martin Moore (vocal coach) PAVENTA INSANO: L’ESPRESSIONE DEI SENTIMENTI NELLE OPERE DI PACINI E MERCADANTE

QUANDO SI approfondisce, superando i quattro più grandi nomi nel firmamento operistico italiano del primo Ottocento – Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti e Verdi – i due compositori che si impongono in maniera quasi obbligata sono sempre Mercadante e Pacini. Il più delle volte i loro nomi vengono citati contemporaneamente, come quelli di due colleghi e collaboratori – ma questo, ci affrettiamo ad aggiungere, non è affatto vero. Allora, come si spiega questo frequente accostamento? Nasce da una motivazione valida o si tratta di una giustapposizione arbitraria, ormai divenuta un luogo comune, che sarebbe meglio abbandonare?

A nostro avviso – anzi, questa è la motivazione principale della presente registrazione – la ragione esiste, ed è ottima. Per cominciare, i due musicisti furono contemporanei. Saverio Mercadante nacque il 17 settembre 1795, e Giovanni Pacini il 17 febbraio 1796, cioè appena cinque mesi dopo. Mercadante era nato in Puglia, ad Altamura, vicino Bari, mentre Pacini era siciliano, di Catania. Entrambi, pertanto, videro la luce nel profondo sud dell’Italia, anche se nel caso di Pacini questo fu in realtà un fatto fortuito. Suo padre, Luigi Pacini, un famoso basso buffo, si trovava per caso a Catania, in tournée, all’epoca in cui sua moglie diede alla luce il figlio. Giovanni infatti nacque in una locanda o albergo frequentato dagli attori itineranti. La vera casa di Pacini si trovava in Toscana, anche se non è mai stato stabilito con

–27– precisione dove. Ma in questo modo il compositore ebbe la possibilità di avere, per così dire, una comoda “doppia cittadinanza”: poteva abitare e lavorare a Viareggio, Lucca e Pescia come ogni toscano, ma poteva anche, se la cosa tornava a suo vantaggio, sostenere di essere siciliano in base al proprio luogo di nascita.

Entrambi i musicisti ebbero una lunga carriera teatrale e, in un’epoca in cui dai compositori si pretendeva che sfornassero un’opera dopo l’altra, furono notevolmente tenaci e prolifici. Pacini compose ben più di settanta opere (ma non “più di cento” come aveva dichiarato); Mercadante non fu meno produttivo ed ebbe al suo attivo qualcosa come una sessantina di titoli.

Entrambi, inoltre, crebbero all’ombra di Rossini – fu un periodo difficile per ogni giovane compositore, dal momento che lo stampo rossiniano della composizione operistica era diventato la norma stabilita in tutta Italia, aveva fatto piazza pulita delle opere teatrali degli autori precedenti e imposto ai giovani compositori uno schema obbligatorio a cui adeguarsi, se desideravano che i loro lavori fossero uditi. In una famosa e memorabile pagina della sua autobiografia, Le mie memorie artistiche (Firenze, 1865), Pacini disse: “Quanti in allora erano miei coetanei, tutti seguirono la stessa scuola, la stessa maniera, per conseguenza erano imitatori, al par di me, dell’Astro maggiore”. D’altro canto, questo sembrava l’unico espediente per sbarcare il lunario.

Eppure, nonostante avessero iniziato imitando Rossini, a metà della loro carriera entrambi i musicisti riuscirono a emanciparsi e sviluppare identità

–28– musicali originali e stili riconoscibili, attraverso cui riuscirono a cercare di illustrare le passioni in maniera sempre più originale. Entrambi, di conseguenza, sono costantemente citati nei libri di storia tra i compositori che, arricchendo il linguaggio armonico e l’orchestrazione del loro tempo, preannunciano le innovazioni e procedure di Verdi.

Persino nel periodo della loro maturità sono evidenti molti aspetti comuni. Una delle preoccupazioni condivise da entrambi fu quella di concentrare il dramma, trovando il modo di esaltare in musica l’espressione degli stati d’animo di tensione e d’angoscia. Entrambi cercano costantemente nuovi effetti armonici, sempre circoscritti nel tradizionale ambito diatonico. Entrambi sono chiaramente e costantemente consapevoli del fatto che il sistema armonico tradizionale permette a ogni minima deviazione e variazione di spiccare e ottenere il migliore effetto mentre, come avrebbero scoperto i compositori del Ventesimo secolo a proprie spese, l’abbandono totale delle “regole” significa tagliarsi fuori dai tradizionali colori legati all’uso delle tradizionali tonalità maggiori e minori, alle singole chiavi con le loro classiche associazioni, alla modulazione che consente di passare da una chiave all’altra e a tutti gli espedienti armonici del passato (la terza piccarda, la sesta napoletana e molti altri). La licenza può creare libertà, ma conduce anche a una perdita dei tradizionali punti di riferimento.

Non divaghiamo. Oltre alla loro ricerca di effetti armonici ricchi e soddisfacenti, Mercadante e Pacini, aprono nuovi orizzonti nell’orchestrazione. Anche qui la loro è la ricerca del diverso – l’uso di

–29– strumenti nuovi o inconsueti, spesso in accostamenti inattesi – che in questo caso si sposa con il piacere della scrittura virtuosistica per gli strumenti solisti, in particolare nei preludi e negli interludi d’atmosfera. Entrambi, poi, sono immersi in ciò che si può definire solo come una melodia italiana riccamente lirica – una melodia che nasce in ultima analisi dai brani popolari, ma che è stata sviluppata, ampliata e intensificata attraverso l’uso di voci forti e sonore – ed entrambi, Mercadante soprattutto, utilizzano nelle opere della loro maturità, il cosiddetto motivo spiegato , una ricca melodia di ampio respiro che forma la base di tanti concertati.

Eppure, nonostante le basi comuni o le sovrapposizioni tra i due compositori, esistono anche caratteristiche diverse e riconoscibili. Nel suo libro sul librettista Salvatore (o Salvadore) Cammarano 1, ricordando che il testo degli Orazi e Curiazi era stato offerto inizialmente a Pacini ma era stato musicato in maniera più appropriata da Mercadante, John Black mette acutamente in evidenza queste differenze. “Quello degli Orazi e Curiazi era indubbiamente un bel soggetto per un’opera […] ma era più adatto al lento e statuario trattamento che Mercadante gli avrebbe dato […] piuttosto che a quello più mercuriale che poteva offrire Pacini”. Infatti Mercadante è il più solido e sostanziale dei due, mentre Pacini è sempre, insaziabilmente propenso a virare verso cabalette suggestive perché ritmicamente convulse e impreviste e verso cori analogamente allegri e irregolari, dal ritmo sincopato e fragile. ______1 John Black, The Italian Romantic Libretto: A Study of Salvadore Cammarano (Edinburgh, 1984), p. 101. –30– Tutto quanto è stato suggerito in questa sede sarà, ne siamo convinti, ampiamente illustrato nell’ampio ventaglio aperto dalla musica eseguita nel presente disco. Entrambi i compositori ci accompagnano attraverso un’intera gamma di emozioni: amore, gioia, ansia, dolore, ribellione, odio, perplessità, le emozioni che accompagnano il sacrificio di sé per gli altri. Mentre i brani scelti comprendono estratti di due opere giovanili ( Andronico di Mercadante e Cesare in Egitto di Pacini), l’accento si colloca sui periodi “medi” ( Il contestabile di Chester e Il corsaro di Pacini e I Normanni a Parigi di Mercadante) e sulle opere successive ( Elena da Feltre , Leonora e Virginia di Mercadante e Stella di Napoli e Allan Cameron di Pacini), che evidenziano le caratteristiche di entrambi nel momento culminante dello sviluppo del loro genio musicale.

© Jeremy Commons, 2005

–31– Lines of text in the following items which are placed within double quotation marks (“…..”) formed part of the libretti as originally written, but were not set by the composers.

[1] GIOVANNI PACINI IL CORSARO Melo-dramma romantico in three acts Libretto by Jacopo Ferretti First performance: 15 January 1831 Teatro Apollo, Rome

Corrado, leader of the corsairs….……………...... Rosa Mariani Medora, his slave...... Carolina Carobbi Giovanni, a corsair...... Alberto Torri Gonsalvo, a corsair...... Alessandro Giacchini Seid, Pasha...... Pietro Gentili Gulnara, his favourite...... Marietta Albini Zoè, the slave of Corrado and the friend of Medora...... Giuseppina Mariani

Terzetto: ‘Che intesi! è lui che adoro’

Gulnara.....Annick Massis Corrado.....Laura Polverelli Seid.....Bruce Ford

–32– SURELY, I CAN hear some readers exclaiming, you have made a mistake! Il corsaro is an opera by Verdi! True – or true at least this latter part of the objection. But 17 years before Verdi produced his opera in Trieste, Pacini had composed an opera on the same subject for Rome. Not that the libretto he set, by Jacopo Ferretti, was as true to Byron’s poem, The Corsair , as Francesco Maria Piave’s for Verdi. It may begin in the same way, but very soon it significantly diverges from the original story. 2

Corrado is the typical Byronic hero: a man of originally noble aspirations, who is now plunged in a brooding world-weary melancholy since, as the head of a band of corsairs, he has allowed himself to become steeped in crime. He conducts his operations from an island in the Aegean, where among his slaves is the woman he passionately adores, the beautiful Medora.

His arch-enemy is the Pasha Seid, the fierce ruler of nearby Turkish territories. Warned of an imminent Turkish attack, Corrado takes leave of Medora and, with a select number of his followers, sails against Seid. He disguises himself as a slave, and manages to introduce himself to Seid in the guise of an unfortunate who has escaped the corsairs’ clutches. His pirates ______2 This opera was made the subject of a study, ‘La musica teatrale a Roma cento anni fa (“Il corsaro” di Pacini)’ by the Roman musicologist Alberto Cametti, published in the Annuario della R. Accademia di S. Cecilia 1930-1931 . I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to Cametti’s researches.

–33– follow him, invading the palace and setting fire to the harem. Seid, taken by surprise, is forced to flee, while Corrado saves the life of the favourite concubine, Gulnara. But the pirate victory is short-lived: Seid returns with superior forces, and takes his opponents prisoner.

Up to this point – the end of Act I – Ferretti’s libretto closely follows Byron’s poem. In Act II, however, the ways part. First, Byron. Gulnara, who loathes the Pascià and has fallen deeply in love with Corrado, pleads for the latter’s life, but succeeds only in arousing Seid’s suspicions. In desperation she visits Corrado in prison and releases him. She urges him to seek revenge by creeping up on Seid and stabbing him, and, when the corsair refuses, does the deed herself. She and Corrado seek safety in flight.

Corrado is at first filled with revulsion for Gulnara’s deed, but is reconciled with her when he sees her unhappiness. He is, however, unable to banish Medora from his thoughts, and, deserting Gulnara, returns to his island stronghold. But it is only to discover that Medora, believing herself abandoned, has died of grief. Giving way to desperation, Corrado retreats to the rocky heights of the island like a madman, and is seen no more.

Ferretti, once embarked upon his ‘melo-dramma romantico’, clearly found Byron’s plot too simplistic, and in Act II allowed his imagination to run riot. Medora, in this operatic version, hears of Corrado’s peril, disguises herself as

–34– Marietta Albini

The first Gulnara Il Corsaro a Turkish soldier and leads the corsairs who have remained on the island in an expedition to rescue him. Corrado – following Gulnara’s unsuccessful attempt to plead with Seid on his behalf – is offered perpetual imprisonment instead of death if he will reveal where he has concealed his pirate spoils. He refuses, and is condemned to a long and painful death. This is altogether too much for Medora, who in her disguise has managed to infiltrate the Turkish court. Impetuously – and, one would have thought, quite pointlessly and uselessly – she reveals her identity. A susceptible Seid promptly falls in love with her. Without doing Corrado any good, therefore, she ends up accomplishing nothing but her own imprisonment in the Turkish harem.

Gulnara secures Corrado’s release. He and his followers storm the palace, intent upon Medora’s rescue, but Giovanni, the first to enter the harem, is forced to report that Seid, rather than lose his prisoner, has slain her – only to fall victim himself to Giovanni’s avenging sword. Corrado, in despair, tries to commit suicide, but is prevented by Gulnara. Convinced of her love, and disgusted with his life of violence, he relinquishes his leadership of the corsairs, and he and Gulnara sail away together. The opera ends as the corsairs prepare to destroy the Turkish stronghold once and for all with a wholesale slaughter.

Unlike most of the other operas featured on this disc, Il corsaro was not a great success at its first performance. The occasion was indeed prestigious:

–36– the Teatro Apollo had been sumptuously restored, and this was the opening spectacle, attended by the elite of Rome, together with Pacini’s mistress, Giulia Samoyloff. The public, admitted to the auditorium at about 5pm, expected the performance to start at 7.30pm, but it did not in fact get under way until 9pm, by which time everyone had grown distinctly restive. Applause greeted the appearance of the Principe Torlonia, the owner of the theatre and responsible for the restoration, and that of Pacini as he took his place in the orchestra. But these, it is recorded, were the only instances of applause in the entire evening. The ill-humour of the audience communicated itself to the performers, with the result that even the most sure-fire items in the score failed to make their mark.

Pacini himself, in Le mie memorie artistiche , records that even at 9pm the machinists had yet to mount two scenes which the scene-painter had only just completed, and adds that the opera did not end until 2am. He admits that on that first evening ‘I could not boast of a clamorous success’, but adds that at subsequent performances he was able to compensate for such initial misfortune. His final assertion is that the opera – eventually – proved a ‘triumph’.

A 22-year-old Felix Mendelssohn, who was present at the first performance, was both more generous and more severe in his account of the evening. He, too, acknowledges that the Principe Torlonia and Pacini were

–37– Rosa Mariani

The first Corrado Il Corsaro greeted warmly, and he also adds that Rosa Mariani was applauded after her cavatina. But he then goes on: ‘Then came many other pieces, and the performance became irksome. The public found it tiresome, too, and when [the performers] attacked Pacini’s big [first] finale, the platea rose to its feet and began to converse in loud tones, laughing and turning its back on the stage. Mme Samoilow [sic] fainted in her box and had to be carried out. Pacini fled from his pianoforte, and the curtain came down at the end of the Act in the midst of a great hubbub. Then came the gran ballo Barbe-bleu , and then the last act of the opera. But by now the public had the bit between its teeth: they hissed the entire ballet and accompanied the second act of the opera in the same way with whistles and laughter. At the end they called for Torlonia, who did not, however, appear.’ Intolerant of most of the music he heard in Italy, Mendelssohn condemned the score as ‘miserably beneath any criticism’.

If there is unanimous agreement both in these accounts and in the press reviews that the first evening was a disaster, there is also considerable agreement that the opera vindicated itself at subsequent performances. Jacopo Ferretti, who found himself obliged to review his own work in the Museo drammatico italiano e straniero , a volume of plays that published theatrical reviews as an appendix, noted that ‘the music was truly written for the occasion, since it contained no reminiscences. Taste and philosophy guided the pen of Pacini in orchestrating it; but his melodies came all from the heart.’ –39– Annick Massis The present terzetto comes in Act I when Corrado, in his disguise as a slave, passes himself off to Seid as a victim of the corsairs. As they swear to wreak vengeance together, Gulnara, who is also on stage, recognises Corrado as the corsair she once saw and fell in love with.

GULNARA (Che intesi! è lui che adoro.) (What have I heard! It is he whom I adore.) CORRADO All’alba? At dawn? SEID All’alba. At dawn. GULNARA (Oh! affanno!) (O torment!) SEID Quei vili, il lor tiranno... Those wretches and their tyrant... GULNARA & CORRADO (Tiranno?) (Tyrant?) SEID ... io sperderò. ... I shall destroy. Il mio rivale odiato But I do not wish that my hated rival Non bramo in guerra estinto. Should perish in the fray. GULNARA Non infierir sul vinto. Do not be merciless towards a conquered man.

–41– Bruce Ford SEID Piangere lo vedrò. I shall see him brought to tears. Fra scherni, e fra catene Amid jeers, and in chains, Cadrà dai colpi infranto. He will fall, struck down by my blows. CORRADO (Superbo! Iniquo! Trema.) (Proud man! Villain! Tremble.) GULNARA Ah! E d’un Corsaro al pianto Ah! I shall weep for pity Pietosa io piangerò. At a Corsair’s tears. CORRADO “Non piangerà; che il pianto “He will not weep; for Nature “Natura a lui negò.” “Denied him [the use of] tears.” SEID to Corrado Meco a pugnar t’invito. I invite you to do battle at my side. Verrai? Will you come? CORRADO Verrò. I shall come. SEID Vendetta. Revenge. CORRADO & SEID Alba a spuntar t’affretta, Hasten, dawn, to break: A trionfar men vò. I shall go to triumph. GULNARA going between them Le stragi risparmiate Let these tears move you Per questo pianto. To spare your slaughter.

–43– CORRADO & SEID No! No! GULNARA Il pianto mio mirate, Behold my grief, Pietà crudeli. Have pity, cruel men. CORRADO & SEID No! No! GULNARA Per questo pianto Have pity, cruel men, Pietà crudeli; For these tears of mine; O di dolore, oh Dio! morrò. Or – O God! – I shall die of grief. Ah! e d’un Corsaro al pianto Ah! I shall weep for pity Pietosa io piangerò. At a Corsair’s tears. Per me fin dalla cuna For me, right from my cradle, Mi ragionava il so; You spoke for me, Fortune; Non mi tradir fortuna, Do not abandon me now, O di dolor morrò. Or I shall die of grief. CORRADO & SEID Non mi tradir fortuna, Do not betray me, Fortune, E vincitor sarò; And I shall be the victor; Alba a spuntar t’affretta, Hasten, dawn, to break: A trionfar men vò. I shall go to triumph. Non mi tradir fortuna, Do not betray me, Fortune, E vincitor sarò, And I shall be the victor, Io trionfar saprò. I shall succeed in triumphing. (The sound of a Turkish band is heard, playing dances in the adjoining salons.)

–44– CORRADO Ma qual suon d’intorno eccheggia? But what sound is this that echoes around? SEID Suon presago di mia gloria; A sound that foretells my glory; La vicina mia vittoria I am beginning to celebrate Io comincio a festeggiar. My approaching victory. CORRADO (Sogni forse!) (Empty dreams, perhaps!) GULNARA (Orribil festa!) (Horrible celebration!) SEID Ma per me fia suon più caro But for me an even dearer sound will be Il lamento del Corsaro The Corsair’s lament E il suo lungo palpitar. And his protracted quaking.

CORRADO & SEID In campo già parmi Upon the field of battle I already Sfidare il periglio – Seem to brave danger – Fra l’ire, fra l’armi To fight and slay Pugnare e svenar. Amid fury and arms. Perchè così lenti O moments, why do you Scorrete, o momenti? Pass so sluggishly? Volate, volate, Fly, fly, E’ morte il tardar. ’Tis death to delay. GULNARA Il crudo già parmi The savage tyrant already seems to me Di sangue vermiglio Amid fury and arms

–45– Laura Polverelli Fra l’ire, fra l’armi To gloat with satisfaction Contento esultar. At [the sight of] crimson blood. Sull’ale de’ venti Upon the wings of winds Pietosi o lamenti, That are either compassionate or lamenting, Volate, volate, Fly, fly, Corrado a salvar. To save Corrado. SEID Caro suono. Welcome sound. GULNARA (Orribil festa!) (Horrible festivity!) CORRADO (Sogni forse!) (Empty dreams, perhaps!) SEID Suon di gloria. The call of glory. GULNARA Orror mi desta. It fills me with horror. CORRADO (Trema iniquo.) (Tremble, villain.) SEID Già sento, già parmi Already I feel, already it seems Fra l’ire, fra l’armi That amid passion and arms Gl’iniqui insultar. I subject the wretches to my insults. GULNARA Sorride al lamento He curls his lip at those who lament, Insulta chi langue He offers his insults to those who languish, Lo vedo esultar. I see him exulting.

–47– CORRADO Morire già parmi Already I seem to see him dying Di lungo tormento. In protracted torment. Ah! venga il momento Ah! let the moment come Che scorri quel sangue, That that blood is set running, E pallido, esangue And I see him expiring, Lo vegga spirar. Pale and bloodless. GULNARA Il crudo già parmi The savage tyrant already seems to me etc. etc. CORRADO & SEID In campo già parmi Upon the field of battle I already seem etc. etc. For an opera dating from as late as this in Pacini’s earlier period, we must admit that Il corsaro contains at least one unexpectedly retrospective feature. 1831 seems a disconcertingly late date to find a pirate-hero scored for a mezzo-soprano in breeches rather than for a tenor, and an anti-hero – Seid – for a tenor rather than for a bass. With a hero acted by a woman, and his lady-love spending at least part of the opera disguised as a man, travestimento in this opera would seem to have got a little out of hand! In Pacini’s defence, let us suggest that his allocation of voices would almost certainly have been dictated by the company engaged at the Teatro Apollo, not by his own personal preferences and inclinations.

–48– As with other Pacini pieces heard on this disc, our appreciation of the music will depend at least in part upon our recognition of the ideas and solutions that as composer he has brought to the various challenges posed by the construction of such an item. At first glance it may seem a conventional- enough terzetto: an introductory andante mosso very soon leads into a central section (‘E d’un Corsaro al pianto’: still andante mosso but rallentando un poco ). The sound of the off-stage band then triggers off a tempo di mezzo which in turn leads into a final allegro con brio (‘In campo già parmi’: allegro con brio but un poco meno mosso ). But it is what happens within the major movements that we should be aware of.

The central section is very much a suave and flowing solo for Gulnara, her melody generally doubled in the orchestra, with the other two characters restricted to pertichini or contributory phrases. We may also note a very lovely and unexpected change of key at ‘Le stragi risparmiate’; and – a feature that is even more unusual – an ending to the movement that is not a perfect cadence in its own key (A flat major), but a modulation into that of the following tempo di mezzo (C major). The final movement is perhaps even more remarkable – even more disconcerting. It takes the form of a canon, a form more generally reserved for slow-movement ensembles, the voices entering in the sequence Seid, Corrado and Gulnara, then joining together before a final coda. But the most bewildering feature of all is the melody itself – deliciously and irresistibly bouncy and attractive – the very stuff of opera

–49– buffa rather than of melo-dramma romantico . The day of serious melodrama is not entirely lost – each entry has the saving grace of an effective rallentando passage in the middle – but it is as if, in this tale of internecine conflict between pirates and Turks in a war-ravaged Aegean, Pacini is suddenly thumbing the nose at serious opera and mischievously taking off into the world of French opéra-comique: the toy-soldier world of La fille du régiment . Should we protest? Let us enjoy his lèse-majesté with him, and leave the heavy-handed criticism to Felix Mendelssohn!

–50– Majella Cullagh [2] SAVERIO MERCADANTE ELENA DA FELTRE Dramma tragico in three acts Libretto by Salvatore Cammarano First performance: 1 January 1839 Teatro San Carlo, Naples

Boemondo, the representative of Eccelino III...... Teofilo Rossi Imberga, his daughter...... Emilia Gandaglia Elena, a young widow...... Giuseppina Ronzi De Begnis Sigifredo, her father...... Pietro Gianni Guido...... Paolo Barroilhet Ubaldo...... Adolphe Nourrit Gualtiero...... Giuseppe Benedetti

Aria: ‘Parmi che alfin dimentica’

Elena.....Majella Cullagh Geoffrey Mitchell Chorus

THE PRESENT item, the autograph of which is in the collection of Opera Rara, was composed as an alternative to Elena’s Act I cavatina, ‘Ah! sì, del tenero amor mio’, but its history beyond this point is slender and uncertain.

–52– It is believed to have been composed for Luigia Boccabadati, who sang the part of Elena, apparently sharing it with Giuseppina Ronzi De Begnis, in a production in Vicenza at the end of July 1839. The date of this production, only seven months after the premiere in Naples, at a time when the opera would have been fresh in Mercadante’s mind, would make it appear a most probable occasion for the composition of this extra aria.

But its history does not end there. In the carnival of 1840, the mezzo- soprano Luigia Abbadia – a high mezzo who could also perform music written for sopranos – was cast as Cuniza in a production of Verdi’s Oberto conte di San Bonifacio in Turin. The original interpreter of this mezzo- soprano role had been a comparatively inexperienced English singer, Mary Shaw, who, in view of her limited abilities, had been granted no cavatina. A singer of the calibre of Luigia Abbadia, on the other hand, could not be expected to brook such an embargo. She insisted on making her appearance with a suitable aria, and ‘Parmi che alfin dimentica’, even though the work of another composer, was adapted and introduced for the purpose.

Elena da Feltre is an opera in which the unfortunate heroine ‘is betrayed, duped and double-crossed by all around her’ 3. We are in the year 1250. Feltre, a small Guelph town in the north of Italy, has been taken over by the ______3 Tom Kaufman in the booklet accompanying the Marco Polo recording of the 1997 Wexford Festival production of the opera.

–53– Ghibellines under Ezzelino da Romano and his representative or lieutenant Boemondo. Boemondo has a daughter, Imberga, whom he is anxious to marry to Guido, one of the leading citizens of Feltre. Unfortunately Guido finds Imberga thoroughly antipathetic, since he is already in love with Elena degli Uberti, the ‘Elena da Feltre’ of the title. What he does not know is that Elena has two suitors, the other being his best friend, Ubaldo. Ubaldo is at first similarly unaware that he has a rival in Guido, but when he discovers the truth, and realises that Elena prefers his friend, his intentions turn sinister and he determines to abduct her. There is, therefore, fertile ground for betrayal and all the dark passions of Italian romantic opera, especially when we discover that Elena’s father, Sigifredo, is a fugitive vindictively pursued by Ezzelino and Boemondo.

The opera may open in hope and optimism, with Elena believing that her father has eluded his persecutors and that she herself is about to marry her beloved Guido, but all rapidly takes a turn for the worse. Elena and Sigifredo are no sooner reunited than Ubaldo, coming to carry out the planned abduction, discovers and arrests Sigifredo. In a desperate attempt to save her father, Elena sacrifices her own happiness by succumbing to Ubaldo’s blackmail and agreeing to marry him – so leaving Guido, on the rebound, free and now willing, in a mood of masochistic revenge, to wed Imberga. An exultant Ubaldo, believing that Elena is at last his, goes to free Sigifredo, only to discover that Ezzelino and Boemondo have already put him to death.

–54– When Elena discovers that her sacrifice has been for nothing, it is already too late for her to recover the situation – the music celebrating the marriage of Guido and Imberga is already to be heard. Deprived of both father and lover, she collapses and expires from grief, leaving Ubaldo to rue his treachery and its disastrous consequences.

Elena’s cavatina occurs near the beginning of the opera, in the second scene of Act I:

ELENA Del tremendo Ezzelin, di Boemondo My father has escaped the wrath Qui suo ministro, né di lui men crudo, Of terrible Ezzelino, and of Boemondo, All’ire il padre s’involò!... Belluno His no less cruel minister here!... Belluno Ricovera e difesa entro sue mura Guarantees him in his flight Al fuggente assecura. Shelter and protection within its walls. Lieta son io, più lieta I am joyful, and more joyful still Il sol cadente mi vedrà domani! The setting sun will see me tomorrow! Voti che amor formò, che benedisse Vows that have been shaped by love, Il consenso paterno, And which my father’s consent has blessed, Benedirà domani anche l’Eterno! Will be blessed tomorrow by God, too!

Parmi che alfin dimentica It seems to me that at last my soul, L’alma de’ suoi martir, Forgetful of its sufferings,

–55– Riveda un sol più limpido, May see a gentler sun – Aura più dolce spiri, May breathe a milder air – E tutto senta il giubilo And may feel all the joy A noi promesso in Ciel. That is promised to us in Heaven. T’affretta o giorno e stringere Hasten the coming day, that I may Io possa il mio fedel. Embrace my constant lover!

Guido, ah, vieni! Guido, ah, come! Vieni, t’affretta! Come, make haste!

Da tanta gioia assorta, It seems that my heart, rapt by so much joy, Par che mi fugga il core: Escapes my control: Ei vola nel trasporto It flies in ecstasy In seno dell’amor. Into the bosom of love. Ah! dove ogni ben l’invita, Ah! there where every blessing, Dove ogni speme, Every hope invites it, Egli ha seco la mia vita, Guido holds my life in his hands, Vita d’amor sarà. And a life of love it will be. Guido t’affretta Guido, hasten, Deh! a me vieni. Ah! come to me – Da tanta gioia assorta, It seems that my heart, rapt by so much joy, etc. etc.

–56– One of the most striking surprises of this item comes right at the very beginning, for the opulently beautiful orchestral phrase that opens it will already be familiar to listeners to Opera Rara recordings: it is taken over – and developed at greater length – from the score of Emma d’Antiochia (Venice, 1834), where it introduced the Act I cavatina of the tenor Ruggiero 4.

A short recitative (including an arioso of only two bars’ duration) leads into a suavely elegant cavatina, after which a brief tempo di mezzo ushers in a sparkling and eagerly happy cabaletta. One unexpected feature is that the attractive orchestral introduction to this cabaletta – the introductory ritornello – does not announce the melody of the cabaletta itself, but is recognisably distinct. It is as if the ritornello from one cabaletta has been used to introduce another, adding to one’s suspicion, planted from the beginning by the re-use of the orchestral melody from Emma d’Antiochia , that this item may be a patchwork – a very effective patchwork – of elements drawn from several sources.

______4 We recommend the listener to listen to track 13 of the first disc of Emma d’Antiochia (ORC26)

–57– Eugenia Tadolini

The first Stella Stella di Napoli [3] GIOVANNI PACINI STELLA DI NAPOLI Dramma lirico in three parts Libretto by Salvatore Cammarano First performance: 11 December 1845 Teatro San Carlo, Naples

Gianni da Capua...... Filippo Coletti Stella, his daughter...... Eugenia Tadolini Olimpia D’Acri...... Eloisa Buccini Il Generale d’Aubigni...... Marco Arati Armando, his nephew...... Gaetano Fraschini Marta...... Anna Salvetti Alberto...... Giuseppe Benedetti Clodoveo...... Teofilo Rossi

Terzetto: ‘Addio!... la tua memoria’

Stella.....Majella Cullagh Olimpia.....Laura Polverelli Armando.....Bruce Ford

–59– STELLA DI NAPOLI was one of a number of operas from Pacini’s later career which enjoyed initial success only to drop out of the repertoire. Tom Kaufman 5 lists 13 productions subsequent to the premiere, two of them abroad, one in Greece (Corfu) and one in Malta. The last took place in Bergamo in 1860.

We know that the opera was written in haste, for as late as 5 September 1845 Pacini was in correspondence with his librettist Cammarano, expecting to set Orazi e Curiazi for performance early in December, even though his creative imagination had not been awakened by the subject. At this date Cammarano offered to substitute Stella di Napoli , a story for which the composer had already expressed a preference, and it seems that the offer was no sooner made than accepted. On 25 September the impresario of the Teatro San Carlo wrote to the Superintendent of Theatres seeking permission for the change… on 6 November the libretto was ready for submission to the censors… and the opera was actually composed, copied, rehearsed and ready for performance on 11 December. Orazi e Curiazi , meanwhile, passed to Mercadante, who achieved one of his most momentous successes with it when it was produced on 10 November 1846. John Black’s perceptive comment, in The Italian Romantic Libretto : A Study of Salvadore Cammarano (1984), is worthy of note: ‘ Orazi e Curiazi was undoubtedly a fine subject for ______5 Verdi and his Major Contemporaries: A Selected Chronology of Performances with Casts (New York & London, 1990), pp. 142-143.

–60– an opera, and it had often been used before, but it suited the slow-moving, statuesque treatment that Mercadante was to bring to it […] rather than the more quicksilver treatment Pacini could offer.’

Its hasty composition notwithstanding, Stella di Napoli met with very real success in its initial season. If Vincenzo Torelli, owner and editor of the Neapolitan journal L’Omnibus , was a little hesitant to pass definitive judgement after the first performance, and found some few items unworthy of the remainder, his approval – indeed his enthusiasm – found full expression after the second and third performances: ‘We are now, without fail, in a position formally to say that this Stella will take its place among the first musical compositions of the age. Nothing is ugly; and that little which was mediocre (which we have already announced) has been excised or corrected: much is beautiful, and even more sublime. And for all that the demands of the day are great, […] it is impossible that [this opera] should not reap the reward of its merit: that is to say, prompt and general celebrity.’

Like Mercadante’s I Normanni a Parigi , discussed elsewhere in this booklet, Stella di Napoli poses the listener with the problem of having to assimilate a copious pre-action before ever the action presented on the stage can begin to make sense. Indeed John Black describes it as ‘one of Cammarano’s most confused and confusing texts’, and points out that, whereas the librettist on all other occasions ensured that his libretti should be eminently

–61– Gaetano Fraschini

The first Armando Stella di Napoli comprehensible as the action unfolds before us upon the stage, here for the only time in his career he felt obliged to preface his published text with a long argomento outlining the background to the plot.

We are in Reggio Calabria in the year 1495, at a time when the kingdom of Naples was a bone of contention between Aragon and France. A successful invasion on the part of Charles VIII of France has forced the legitimate king, Ferrante II of Aragon, to seek asylum in Sicily, leaving his barons fugitive and in disarray. One of the most faithful, Gianni da Capua, has disguised himself in humble clothing, and, to infiltrate the French ranks, has enlisted in the Swiss guards who form part of the garrison in Reggio Calabria commanded by Generale d’Aubigny (d’Aubigni in the opera), one of Charles VIII’s generals. Meanwhile his daughter Stella, also a fugitive, has assumed peasant attire and lives in obscurity in the countryside outside Reggio. To her misfortune, she catches the eye of a young French nobleman who comes hunting in the district. They fall in love – without, it seems, his revealing his identity to her, or she hers to him – and without his having any intention of fulfilling his promises to her. He is, as we eventually learn, Armando, the nephew of Generale d’Aubigni, and he soon disappears, returning to his true love, Olimpia d’Acri, a member of the court of Ferrante. The imminent marriage of Armando and Olimpia, crossing over political divisions, is – presumably – regarded as a way of healing the divisions in the kingdom. Stella is left hoping for his promised return, but increasingly distressed at his failure to reappear. –63– In addition to these events, we must also be aware that Gianni da Capua has been holding meetings of Ferrante’s secret adherents, who have made themselves part of a league or coalition against Charles VIII’s continuing presence in Naples. These meetings take place in the house of a gypsy, Marta, who meagrely supports herself by telling fortunes – an occupation severely condemned by the government of the time.

The action of the opera opens at just such a meeting, to which Gianni brings news that Charles, learning of the strength of the league organised against him, has been obliged to return to France. Before dispersing, all the conspirators swear their allegiance to Ferrante. No sooner have they gone than Stella appears, come to discover through Marta’s necromantic arts the whereabouts of her erstwhile lover. In the midst of the consultation that follows, the house is invaded by French soldiers and both women apprehended.

Gianni, though unaware of his daughter’s peril, hears of Marta’s arrest, and uses his influence within the French ranks to engage Olimpia to urge her fiancé to secure her release. Olimpia obliges, and Armando visits the prison, giving both women the opportunity to escape the pyre to which they have been condemned. But before Stella can be convinced to take advantage of the flight offered her, Armando has to lie to her, telling her that he still loves her and has no other attachment. When in Part II, therefore, she actually sees

–64– him on his way to his marriage with Olimpia, she intervenes to try to stop the ceremony. Rearrested, she is about to be dragged back to prison – and death – when Gianni steps forward to defend her. The only result of his gesture, however, is that his true identity is revealed. Both father and daughter are about to be incarcerated when a clash of arms announces the approach of Ferrante’s forces, and the act closes in typical operatic confusion.

In Part III the tables have been turned, and it is now Armando’s turn to languish in prison. In a gesture of supreme generosity and self-sacrifice, Stella, who, we are asked to believe, is dying of grief, brings Olimpia to the prison, and sets the lovers free, directing them to a vessel she has engaged to carry them to safety. As they are seen sailing away in the distance, Stella dies in her father’s arms.

Disconcertingly enough, one of the items which Vincenzo Torelli, after the first performance, singled out in L’Omnibus for particular condemnation rather than commendation, was the very terzetto which we have recorded here. Indeed it is with some relish that we pose the listener with a challenge to listen and exercise his or her own judgement. After declaring ‘somewhat long the terzetto when Stella, accompanied by Olimpia, goes to liberate Armando’, Torelli continued: ‘And in truth – may the admired composer forgive us – this was not the moment for an extremely broad and endless largo , and for beautiful and generously distributed harmonies. The passions

–65– of the three characters required force, warmth and a spontaneous and impassioned motif. This piece proved “the poison” of the opera, and may God will it that Pacini’s guardian angel speak to him, [urging him to] cut or amend this great evil.’ It is only fair to add that in his second notice, published after the second and third performances, Torelli was quick to acknowledge that Pacini, while removing several other offending passages from the score, had shortened this terzetto. Although we have not been able to compare the published score with the original manuscript, we suspect that it is in this abbreviated form that we present it here.

Stella, soon to die, has brought Olimpia, disguised as a man-at-arms, to Armando’s prison, with the intention that the two lovers should escape together.

The military prison in the Castle of Reggio.

Stella approaches the man-at-arms, and raises his visor.

OLIMPIA Armando!... Armando! ARMANDO Dessa!... Olimpia! Olimpia!... You! falling at Stella’s feet Ah! tu non sei mortale! Ah! you are not of mortal clay!

–66– OLIMPIA Ah! per me quest’alma nobile Ah! for me this noble soul Fu suora, e non rivale! Has been no rival, but a sister! STELLA raising Armando Fuggite omai... Now fly... OLIMPIA Sì... vadasi... Yes... let us be gone... ARMANDO to Stella Oh! come tremi! Oh! how you are trembling! STELLA Tremo?... Trembling?.... E’ ver: di qualche ostacolo Yes, it is true: I am afraid of some obstacle Al fuggir vostro io temo!... To your flight!... Pur... l’ora è queta... oscuro Yet... the hour is quiet... a dark veil Covre la notte un vel... Of cloud obscures the night... (Armando appears hesitant.) Or va… Te ne scongiuro... Now go... I beseech you... Per lei! per lei! ten va. For her! for her! go. OLIMPIA Ah! per me quest’alma nobile Ah! for me this noble soul Fu suora, e non rivale! Has been no rival, but a sister!

–67– ARMANDO Ma tu non sei mortale! But you are not of mortal clay! Spirto tu sei del ciel! You are an angel from heaven! STELLA Va... fuggi! Go... fly! OLIMPIA & ARMANDO Spirto tu sei del Ciel! You are an angel from Heaven!

(Stella pushes Olimpia and Armando towards the exit, where the guard is waiting for them. They fall at her feet and embrace her knees.)

OLIMPIA & ARMANDO Addio!... La tua memoria Farewell!... I shall keep your memory Avrò nell’alma ognor!... In my soul for ever!... STELLA Addio!... Per voi sorridano Farewell!... May days of peace and love Giorni di pace e amore!... Smile upon you!.. OLIMPIA O Stella, queste lagrime O Stella, these tears Linguaggio son del cor!... Spring like words from my heart!... ARMANDO Addio!... L’error dimentica, Farewell!... Forget my error, Il mio funesto errore!... My disastrous error!... Sol rammentarlo e piangere This wicked heart of mine Deve quest’empio cor! Alone must remember it and bewail it!

–68– Majella Cullagh STELLA (Ah, non credè sì barbaro (Ah, my heart did not credit Questo momento il cor!...) That this moment would be so cruel!...) Ah, per voi risplendano Ah, may days of love Giorni d’amor! Shine upon you! ALL THREE Addio! Farewell!

(Olimpia and Armando, followed by the guard, escape by the secret door; Stella collapses upon a stool.)

The most fascinating aspect of this terzetto is the manner in which Pacini has constructed it. Composing in 1845, he has moved far away from the older convention of introducing successive voices in canon, and is clearly looking for new constructional ideas, new ways of bringing his voices together, and new effects in the manner in which he accompanies them. The introductory allegro agitato need not detain us long: it conveys all the heart- in-mouth excitement of the situation, relaxing its onward movement only momentarily when Stella refers to the tranquillity and darkness of the night. It is the succeeding larghetto which is the remarkable section here. It is, in the first place, constructed over an obbligato line for clarinet which we can describe only as extreme bravura writing. But this is not the only element of floridity. Stella’s line is also richly decorated, so that soprano voice and clarinet appear to be weaving intricate webs of embroidery together, while

–70– the other two voices join in simpler, more homophonic phrases. Only halfway through does the introduction of a harp, supplying a more regularly flowing Alberti accompaniment, allow the voices, particularly the tenor, to lead us into more generous spiegato writing.

[4] SAVERIO MERCADANTE I NORMANNI A PARIGI Tragedia lirica in four acts Libretto by Felice Romani First performance: 7[?] February 1832 Teatro Regio, Turin

Odone, Count of Paris...... Giovanni Battista Verger Berta, the widow of Carlomano, King of France...... Adelaide Tosi Osvino, a young French knight……...... …..….....Amalia Brambilla-Verger Ordamante (Roberto di Poitiers), condottiere of the Normans besieging Paris...... ……Orazio 6 Cartagenova Tebaldo, a French prince………..………...... ………..Giuseppe Visanetti Ebbone, a French knight...... Vincenzo Lucantoni

______6 The first libretto mistakenly gives his name as Giovanni

–71– Giovanni Batista Verger

The first Odone I Normanni a Parigi Terzetto: ‘Che tento? che spero?’

Berta.....Annick Massis Osvino.....Laura Polverelli Odone.....Kenneth Tarver

ALTHOUGH ALL authorities give 7 February 1832 as the date of the premiere of this work, we feel bound to query this, for it had already been reviewed in the Gazzetta Piemontese on Saturday 4 February. Unfortunately the review does not give any date for the first performance.

The libretto was the work of Felice Romani, who seems to have been immersed at this time in plays dealing with early mediaeval French history, since its production preceded by six weeks the premiere of a very similar work, Donizetti’s Ugo conte di Parigi (La Scala, Milan, 13 March 1832), of which he had also written the words. Both works are chivalric in tone, and both have extremely involved plots. That of I Normanni a Parigi is further complicated by an enormous pre-action, which runs somewhat as follows:

Berta, the daughter of Egmonte, Count of Tours, was, years ago in her youth, betrothed to Carlomano (Charlemagne), the King of France. Before any wedding could take place, however, she secretly married a French knight, Roberto di Poitiers, and bore him a son, Osvino, whom she brought up so hidden away from the world that even he has remained ignorant of his true

–73– Amalia Brambilla Verger

The first Osvino I Normanni a Parigi identity. These events could not, however, be concealed from her father, the Count of Tours, who in his wrath contrived to have Roberto assassinated and Osvino kidnapped; concurrently he also set about forcing Berta to go through with her marriage to Charlemagne. He offered to restore Osvino to her, but only provided she swore never to reveal to him the secret of his birth (an oath she breaks only at the very end of the opera). Given to believe that Roberto was no longer alive, she eventually capitulated and became Queen of France.

Roberto, however, had escaped the daggers of his would-be assassins, and, hearing of Berta’s marriage and believing her as guilty as her father of betraying him, he took refuge with the Normans, at that time the terror of Europe. Making himself their chief and assuming the name of Ordamante, he turned traitor to France and laid siege to Paris.

Carlomano, meanwhile, has died, leaving Berta and an infant son by the name of Terigi under the protection of Odone, Count of Paris. Odone is an honest man, and with his two friends, Osvino, by this time grown to manhood and widely respected as a valiant warrior, and Ebbone, a rather more elderly French knight, is striving to preserve and guide the kingdom. But the situation within Paris is anything but a happy one, since a minor princeling, Tebaldo, ambitious to make himself king, is plotting to make his way to the throne by murdering Terigi, Odone and all the Queen’s closest

–75– adherents. Ordamante-Roberto, it should be added, has at some point managed to penetrate the city in disguise, and has discovered that Osvino is his son. And Berta has also become aware that Roberto is still alive…

All this action, we must emphasise, has transpired before the curtain ever rises, and our account, already long enough, would stretch to several more pages if we were to detail all the action of the four acts. Suffice it to say that in the end the Normans are routed and Paris relieved. Not, however, before the traitor Tebaldo has succeeded in murdering Terigi and, in the final battle, treacherously and mortally wounding Osvino. Osvino has discovered, much earlier, that Ordamante is his father, but it is only as he dies that he learns that Berta is his mother. At the final curtain Berta is left to lament his untimely death, and Ordamante-Roberto to expiate his desertion of France in a life of exile and penance.

The terzetto which is recorded here forms part of the Finale of Act III, and comes at a point when Tebaldo has accused Osvino of dereliction of duty, since, appointed to guard the palace and the infant Terigi, his attention had been distracted by a meeting with Ordamante, and in that very moment the murder of Terigi had taken place. Berta suddenly appears in the midst of the Council of Knights and does her best to defend him, suggesting (in a passage which comes after the present extract) that his guilt may be more apparent than real. When this plea fails, she is about to deal her final card and reveal

–76– Annick Massis that he is her son – but before she can do so, news is brought that Paris is filled with Norman troops. The immediate situation is promptly forgotten as all race to do battle with the invaders.

The really intriguing thing about this terzetto is that in the libretto the lines are given only to Berta – and, we may add, make sense only upon her lips, not upon those of Osvino and Odone, who are in no position to be able to reveal the ‘orrendo mistero’ which is referred to. It was Mercadante, apparently, who decided to let his musical interests take precedence over convincing and naturalistic drama by turning what should have been a solo passage for Berta into an ensemble for three characters:

BERTA clutching – in the greatest agitation – the sentence which Tebaldo has handed her Che tento? che spero? What am I attempting? what hoping? Che penso? che faccio? What thinking? what doing? L’orrendo mistero Should I reveal the frightful mystery Paleso, o lo taccio? Or should I suppress all mention of it? Pietade, dolore, Compassion, grief, Rimorso, rossore Remorse and shame A gara mi straziano, Contend in tearing me apart Mi fanno morir. And making me [feel I could] die.

[The same words, less appropriately, are repeated by Osvino and Odone .]

–78– Laura Polverelli This terzetto was one of a number of pieces which came in for particular praise in the review published in the Gazzetta Piemontese on 4 February 1832, but in this instance praise which eschewed all attempt at specifics, describing it, with unintentionally comic tautology, as ‘music of which it is no more easy to admire the beauties than it is to enumerate them’.

The same review commended Felice Romani, among other things, for ‘the passions which he has forcefully and truthfully expressed, … for the elevation of his thoughts, [and] for his dramatic style…’ But it was Mercadante who received the greatest praise – praise even at the expense of Rossini:

Coming to the merit of the musical composition, its style is purged and sublime, [and] its ideas expounded at length. Excellent [is] the way the music is conducted; the musical inspirations [are] now grave, now tender and now strong, every one of them carrying the imprint of the sense of the words, and of the character of the action. In all this Mercadante shares his reputation for excellence with the best among the modern composers; but he excels all, not excepting even the Pesarese, in his instrumentation. Both of them have recognised the importance of this, [and] both bring studied work to it, but with this difference: that Rossini with his crescendi , his forti and his fortissimi wins himself a glory which lasts as long as the noisy uproar which results, and which shows no mercy for the singers; while Mercadante

–80– Kenneth Tarver with his smorzandi , his piani and his pianissimi aims at more lasting praise: that of allowing the voices of the performers to shine without extraordinary forcing, and of leaving in the ears and even more in the hearts of the listeners a suave, not ephemeral, and most pleasing memory, [first] of the wisely calculated force of the passages for full orchestra, and [second] of the sound combinations [ armonia ] that are to be found in every piece on account of the great mastery and wise economy with which he uses now these and now those instruments.

In listening to this terzetto, we must bear in mind that it is but a single movement extracted from a much longer multi-movement finale. The opening orchestral passage, in particular, was designed not as an introductory ritornello but as a transitional progression of chords from what has gone before. In form, the item is simple: a canon in which the voices enter in the order Berta, Osvino and Odone, and then join in a coda. And such a form is eminently suited to the dramatic situation, for we are in a moment of complete stasis: the action is suspended; the clock is stopped; as in turn each of the characters looks into his or her innermost thoughts and gives expression to the doubts, hesitations and perplexities to be found there. The simplicity of form is, fortunately, matched by beauty of music, for each voice enters to a gently falling and ravishing chromatic line inspired by the closest attention to both the sound and the sense of the words. The score is liberally

–82– peppered with ‘ pp ’ markings; indeed, only for a single phrase towards the end of the coda are they allowed to rise to a momentary forte .

[5] GIOVANNI PACINI IL CONTESTABILE DI CHESTER, ovvero I FIDANZATI Melo-dramma romantico in three parts Libretto by Domenico Gilardoni First performance: 23 November 1829 Teatro San Carlo, Naples

Ugo di Lacy...... Luigi Lablache Damiano di Lacy...... Adelaide Tosi Evelina Berengaria...... Luigia Boccabadati Armando...... Giovanni Arrigotti 7 Adele...... Virginia Eden Venoino...... Gennaro Ambrosini Rodolfo...... Gaetano Chizzola

Terzetto: ‘Ah! partir il voto o ciel... Deh rammentate almeno’

Ugo di Lacy.....Alan Opie Damiano di Lacy.....Majella Cullagh Evelina.....Annick Massis ______7 Or perhaps Gaetano Arrigotti. Both names are found. –83– Luigia Boccabadati

The first Evelina Berengaria Il contestabile di Chester PACINI’S CAREER was well under way by the time he came to write Il contestabile di Chester in Naples in 1829. It was intended for a gala celebration of the name day on 19 November of Queen Maria Isabella, the generously proportioned Spanish second wife of Francesco I, but when the time came nearly every member of the cast was afflicted with a cold, and Adelaide Tosi was voiceless. Although her colleagues could have struggled through, it was decided, in view of the seriousness of her indisposition, to postpone the premiere. Queen Maria Isabella’s name day was celebrated, instead, with a performance of Rossini’s La donna del lago .

Such a change of plan militated, in fact, to Pacini’s advantage. Had the new opera been performed as intended, court etiquette would have dictated a subdued reception, for no one was permitted to applaud at royal galas unless the King himself gave the signal. Performed as it was, four nights later, it was subject to no such restrictions, and was received with tumultuous applause. No fewer than six items became established favourites, including the present terzetto, and a duettino, ‘Là sotto il salice’, which Opera Rara has already featured in A Hundred Years of Italian Opera, 1820-1830 (ORCH 104).

Not, it must be admitted, that the original reviews were free from criticisms and reservations. The vocal distribution, in particular, struck the critics as bordering on the eccentric. There was, in the first place, no role for a principal tenor: Giovanni (or Gaetano) Arrigotti, the one tenor in the cast,

–85– sang only the comprimario role of Armando, an elderly confidant of the heroine Evelina. It may have been common enough practice, too, to put a musico (a mezzo-soprano or contralto in a breeches role) into an opera, but a soprano? And, what was more, Adelaide Tosi, one of the most celebrated sopranos of the time? But perhaps Pacini knew very well what he was doing, for he was taking advantage of a much-publicised rivalry of the day – between Adelaide Tosi and Luigia Boccabadati – by casting them together in the same opera, and bringing them together as a pair of young lovers whose voices would blend in music of sometimes melancholy and ravishing tenderness. Singing with them, moreover, he had a performer who was a tower of strength in any opera in which he accepted a part: the celebrated bass, Luigi Lablache. There is no denying that the vocal distribution – two sopranos and a bass – was unusual, but it was one that assured the composer of three performers of exceptional merit – three performers who could be guaranteed to draw the public’s attention and enthusiastic applause.

The text he was setting was also of great interest, for Domenico Gilardoni had based his libretto upon The Betrothed , a novel by Sir Walter Scott, one of the most widely read and popular literary figures of the age – ‘the Ariosto of the North’, as Gilardoni dubbed him in a prefatory note. Since it was, moreover, a plot which took place in early medieval days in the borderlands between England and Wales, a time and a region remote from Italian experience and therefore redolent with connotations of atmosphere and mood,

–86– it enabled him to prompt his composer to frequent touches of romantic colouring…

The action begins in the year 1187. Raimondo Berengaria, a Norman baron entrusted with keeping the peace in the war-torn Welsh marches, has been killed in a skirmish, leaving his young daughter, Evelina, besieged by Welsh clansmen in her Castle of the Mountain.

Part I (‘The Departure of the Constable’) shows the unexpected arrival within the castle of Damiano di Lacy, a young knight who, under cover of darkness, has slipped through the Welsh ranks to reassure the garrison that help is on its way. His father, Ugo di Lacy, the Constable of Chester, is leading his troops to relieve the castle. Damiano and Evelina are in love, but when Ugo makes his appearance, having routed the Welsh and put them to flight, he informs Evelina that it was her father’s dying wish that she should marry him – Ugo – since he was her father’s closest friend and ally. Evelina is dismayed, but feels unable to disobey the dying wishes of a parent. But in the very moment that the marriage is about to take place, word comes from the King, calling upon Ugo to depart forthwith for the Holy Lands in accordance with a vow he had taken to participate in the Crusades. A disappointed Ugo exacts a solemn promise from Evelina that she will remain faithful to him and await his return, then entrusts her to the care of Damiano.

–87– In Part II (‘The Absence of the Constable’), we see Evelina’s sufferings in the time that Ugo is away. In the course of a hunting expedition, she is seized by the Welsh – but rescued by Damiano. Inevitably they find themselves confessing their love for each other, yet declaring that, in this life at least, they must be true to their commitments to their respective parents and remain apart.

Part III (‘The Return of the Constable’) sees the resolution of the situation. Ugo, after suffering many disasters in the Holy Lands, returns in the garb of a hermit. He has heard reports of his betrayal by Evelina and Damiano, but is soon convinced by his son’s frank avowal of the truth. He summons Evelina to accompany him to church, which she tremblingly does, believing that this is the moment in which she must fulfil her vow to marry him. But age generously bows before youth: Ugo places her hand in that of Damiano, and gives them his blessing.

The terzetto which is recorded here occurs at the end of Part I, and marks Ugo’s leave-taking as he prepares to leave for the Crusades. It begins with his surprise and dismay as he opens a scroll he has received from the King, and reads that he is ordered to leave forthwith:

–88– Patric Schmid, David Parry and Alan Opie UGO emphatically, after he has read the parchment he has received from the King (Ah!... Partir!... Il voto!... Oh Ciel!...) (Ah!... To leave!... My vow!... Oh Heavens!...) DAMIANO (Si rattrista!) (He is overcome by sadness!) UGO looking at Evelina and Damiano (Oh pena ria!) (Oh cruel suffering!) EVELINA Deh Signor... Ah! my Lord... DAMIANO Padre, che fia?... Father, what is it?... UGO Ah! vi deggio abbandonar! Ah! I must leave you! EVELINA & DAMIANO together E mi puoi così lasciar? And can you quit me thus? UGO Ver la terra del deserto, A holy vow, that I made Peregrin guerrier devoto, Upon the altar, summons me, Mi richiama un santo voto A devoted pilgrim-warrior, Profferito su l’altar! To the land of the desert. EVELINA E potrai? And can you [so easily tear yourself away]?

–90– UGO Partir degg’io... I must go... to his squire, Rodolfo Tutto olà si appresti al campo. Let all be made ready in the camp. (Rodolfo leaves.)

DAMIANO E vorrai?... And you wish?... UGO turning with affection towards Evelina Promisi a Dio!... I made a promise to God!... EVELINA E potrai?... And can you...? UGO Partir degg’io… I must go… Ma di fede un giuramento, But before I go, give me Pria ch’io parta a me concedi... Your oath of fidelity... EVELINA Ah!... Tu il vuoi?... Ah!... You wish it?... UGO extending his right hand to her “Sì.” “Yes.” EVELINA trembling Ebben... Tel giuro! Well then... I swear it! (Ugo embraces her passionately)

–91– DAMIANO (Me infelice!) (Unhappy me!) UGO Oh caro pegno! Oh, dear promise! DAMIANO & EVELINA (Oh barriera al mio sperar!) (Oh! barrier to all my hopes!) UGO (E la deggio abbandonar!) (And I must abandon her!)

Damian, l’affido a te... Damiano, I entrust her to you... Difendila per me... Defend her for me... to Evelina Ei teco ognor sarà... He will always be with you... Di me ti parlerà... He will speak to you of me... DAMIANO Oh Ciel! L’affidi a me! Oh Heavens! You entrust her to me! Con lei lontan da te!... To be with her, far removed from you! (Con me ella sarà!... (She will be with me!... E il cor resisterà!...) Will my heart remain firm?...) EVELINA Oh Ciel!... che fia di me!... O Heavens!... what will be my fate?... to Ugo Ah no... qui ferma il pie’!... Ah no... stay your steps here!... (Con me restar dovrà... (Damiano is to remain with me... E il cor resisterà?... Will my heart remain firm?... Di me che ne avverrà!) What will become of me!)

–92– Annick Massis and Alan Opie UGO Ma!... ma!... Yet... yet... Deh, rammentate almeno Ah, at least remember Quando verran quest’ore, When this hour comes [into your thoughts] Che vi stringeva al seno, That I pressed you to my heart, Piangendo di dolor! Weeping for grief! DAMIANO (Lungi dal padre mio, (Far from my father, In sì tremendo stato, In such a fearful position, Tempra, gran Dio, nel seno Great God, assuage in my breast L’affanno del mio cor!) The anguish of my heart!) EVELINA (Priva del padre mio, (Deprived of my father, In sì tremendo stato, In such a fearful position, Tempra, gran Dio, Great God, assuage L’affanno del mio cor!) The anguish of my heart!) UGO Damian, l’affido a te... Damiano, I entrust her to you... EVELINA Con lui! I’ll be left with him! DAMIANO Con lei! ( to Ugo ) Lontan di te! With her! ( to Ugo ) Far from you! UGO to Evelina Di me ti parlerà. He will speak to you of me.

–94– EVELINA & DAMIANO Ah no! qui ferma il piè!... Ah no! stay your steps here!... Di me che ne avverrà! What will become of me! UGO Ei teco ognor serà... He will always be with you... Di me ti parlerà. He will speak to you of me. Non più. Si vada… No more. I must go... DAMIANO Ah padre… Ah father... EVELINA Parti?... You are leaving?... UGO E m’arrestate ancor?... And do you still stop me?

(At this point, warlike trumpets are heard. The rear flaps of the Constable’s tent are raised, giving a view of the plain beneath the Castle of the Mountain. It is entirely filled with people, with the armed forces of the Lacy and the Berengaria families, and with Crusaders who sing the following:)

CHORUS Di Croce lo stendardo The Anglo-Norman host, L’Anglo-Normanna gente, Victorious in the East, Vittrice in Orïente Will unfurl in the breeze All’aura spiegherà. The standard of the Cross. E di sue glorie in segno, And as a sign of its glories, Al cittadin cristiano, Returning, it will display

–95– La palma del Giordano The palm of Jordan Tornando mostrerà. To the Christian world. UGO to Evelina Stringimi al sen, Hold me to your breast, M’abbraccia. Embrace me. EVELINA Signore… My Lord… DAMIANO Ah! Padre mio! Ah! Father! UGO Dover mi chiama e onor. Love and honour call me. EVELINA & DAMIANO Immenso è il mio martor. My suffering is immense. UGO L’amor di voi, d’Iddio, The love for you and for God Che infiamma questo petto, That sets this breast of mine on fire Fia guida al braccio mio Will act as guide to my arm Sostegno al mio valor!... And support for my valour!... to Damiano Ma poi se cado esanime, But then, if I fall lifeless, Se i fidi miei son vinti, If my trusty men are defeated, Allor che il bronzo funebre When the funeral bell Rammenta all’uom gli estinti, Recalls the dead to the living, Pietosa qualche lagrima Do you shed some tear Per me tu spargi ancor!... Of pity for me!...

–96– Majella Cullagh and Annick Massis Tu vola ov’è il mio cenere; Hasten to where my ashes lie; Vendica il genitor! Revenge your father! EVELINA Ch’io sparga qualche lagrima?... You would have me weep for you?... DAMIANO Ch’io vendichi il tuo cenere?... You would have me revenge your ashes?... TOGETHER Ah come mai può reggere Ah! however can my heart A tanto affanno il cor! Bear up against such anguish! EVELINA Tu spento non cadrai... But you will not be killed... DAMIANO La patria rivedrai... You will see your homeland once more... TOGETHER Ma di te privo, ah credilo, But, deprived of you – ah! believe it – M’ucciderà il dolor!... My grief will kill me!... E sol per mia memoria, And simply in memory of me Verrai su l’urna gelida, You will come to my cold urn Pietoso a darmi un fior! To give me a flower in compassion! ALL Oh giorno di dolor! O day of grief! CHORUS Di Croce lo stendardo The Anglo-Norman host, etc . etc.

–98– UGO All’armi! To arms! EVELINA Signore… My Lord… DAMIANO Ah! Padre mio! Ah! Father! EVELINA & DAMIANO Di me che mai sarà! Whatever will become of me! UGO Sì, il mio fulmin cadrà! Yes, my thunderbolt shall fall! Sì, l’amor di voi, d’Iddio Yes, the love for you and for God etc. etc. to Evelina M’abbraccia. Embrace me. mounting his horse Io parto. I am going. (The army begins to leave.)

ALL THREE Addio! Farewell! Oh giorno di dolor! O day of grief! WOMEN OF CHORUS to Ugo Ti chiama onor, dover. Honour and duty summon you.

–99– MEN OF CHORUS Ci guidi il tuo valor. Let your valour be our guide. (The Constable departs at the head of the Crusaders. Evelina retires into the Castle. Damiano’s gaze follows her.)

As already mentioned, this terzetto was one of half-a-dozen items which caught the public imagination and came in for regular and sustained applause. The critics were, however, quick to note its somewhat unusual form. Far from being an ensemble in which all three voices enjoy equal prominence and equal participation in the melody, the lion’s share of the limelight goes to Ugo. The dramatic situation necessarily means that it is he who controls and precipitates the action, with Evelina and Damiano joining in, as it were, by reaction. Typical of Pacini is the energy and excitement of the writing, with maximum emotion being milked from each successive phrase of the text. This ‘hectic’ quality makes itself particularly felt at the point where we expect a slow, lyrical movement, but Pacini instead gives us an allegro agitato (‘Damian, l’affido a te’), holding back his andantino cantabile (‘Deh, rammentate almeno’) and making the terzetto in consequence a four -movement item. The hectic quality is also used to good effect to convey the panic and fear of Evelina and Damiano at the prospect of being left in a situation where they will be thrown together but must not for a moment let their feelings for each other get the better of them. They cling to Ugo not only because they regret his departure, but equally because it exposes them to a temptation they feel they may not be able to withstand.

–100– Typical, too, is the introduction of an off-stage military band to accompany the arrival of the chorus and to provide a noisily energetic postlude to the two- verse cabaletta and bring the act to a close.

[6] SAVERIO MERCADANTE ANDRONICO Melo-dramma tragico in two acts Libretto by ‘D.T.P.A.’ (Dalmiro Tindario Poeta Arcadico, the ‘Arcadian’ name of Conte Giovanni Kreglianovich Albinoni) First performance: 26 December 1821 Teatro La Fenice, Venice

Calojanni Paleologo, Emperor of the East………...... ……..Gaetano Crivelli Irene di Trabisonda, wife of the Emperor…….…...…...Francesca Festa Maffei Andronico, son of the Emperor...... Giovanni Battista Velluti Leone, Minister of State and General...... Rafaele Benetti Eudossa, a princess, maid of honour to the Empress....…....Marietta Bramati Marziano, spokesman of the Bulgarians……...………....Alessandro Mombelli

Duetto: ‘Nel seggio placido’

Irene.....Majella Cullagh Andronico.....Laura Polverelli

–101– Giovanni Battista Velluti

The first Andronico Andronico ANDRONICO IS ONE of Mercadante’s earlier operas, dating from 1821, and particularly remarkable since it was composed for Giovanni Battista Velluti, the last of the great castrati, ‘that god of song who cannot open his mouth without delighting’ ( Gazzetta Privilegiata di Venezia ). Despite his presence, it did not meet with any great enthusiasm at its premiere, but it contained two duets, both for Irene and Andronico, which became for many years celebrated concert items. One of them, ‘Vanne se alberghi in petto’ has already appeared on Bravura Diva (Opera Rara, ORR231), interpreted by Majella Cullagh and Jennifer Larmore. The other is the duet recorded here.

We cannot do better than repeat much of what appeared in the booklet accompanying Bravura Diva :

Despite the unfamiliarity of the names of the characters, this opera tells a story that is known to most of us, for it is the same as that of Verdi’s Don Carlos . Calojanni Paleologo is the equivalent of Philip II of Spain; Irene di Trabisonda of Elisabeth de Valois; Andronico of Don Carlos; and Eudossa of the Princess Eboli.

How has this come about? As the librettist, Kreglianovich, tells us in his introductory note, in 1672 the French author the Abbé de Saint-Réal published an historical novella entitled Don Carlos , which met with great favour and was widely read. Its popularity led the dramatist Jean-Galbert de

–103– Campistron in 1685 to base a tragedy upon it, but, induced by ‘invincible reasons’, he altered the setting to the later years of the Eastern Roman Empire – and gave his play the name of Andronic . Almost a century later the same source, that is to say Saint-Réal’s novella, gave rise to three further tragedies: Alfieri’s Filippo , Pepoli’s Isabella e Carlo and Schiller’s Don Carlos . Notwithstanding differences of treatment, all told very much the same story. Kreglianovich does not tell us why he chose to follow Campistron rather than one of the more recent authors, but it is possible that he did so to avoid incurring difficulties with the censorship of the day. He was, of course, still writing in an age that was hyper-sensitive to the manner in which crowned heads, especially those of comparatively recent memory, were treated upon the public stage.

An impetuous and idealistic young Andronico – for those who are not familiar with the plot of Verdi’s opera – has, before ever the opera opens, been engaged to Irene di Trabisonda, only to have her seized from him by his own father, the Emperor Calojanni Paleologo, who makes her his Empress. Andronico wishes to champion the downtrodden Bulgarians, and asks his father if he may be their governor. He chooses to make this request, however, at the very moment when Calojanni is about to confer the position upon his minister and confidant, the treacherous and ambitious Leone. As a result the plea is sarcastically rejected, and in despair Andronico draws his sword with the intention of killing himself. Calojanni, misinterpreting the gesture,

–104– Laura Polverelli believes that it is an act of treason directed against himself, and has him arrested. In the second act Eudossa, a princess attached to the Empress’s suite, steals letters which had been written by Andronico to Irene at the time they were engaged. She has them secretly delivered to the Emperor, who in his jealousy has Andronico condemned to death. A popular uprising temporarily sets him free, but Irene, deceived by Leone into unwittingly inveigling him into a trap, sends him her ring with the request that he visit her. They are surprised by the Emperor, and the opera ends as Andronico is dragged away to execution and Irene collapses in a faint.

The present duet occurs at the penultimate moment of the opera – at the ill-fated final meeting of the two lovers. Fate hangs heavily over them, for both realise that no happiness awaits them in this world. But in time- honoured operatic style, rather than separate hastily and so live to fight another day, they linger to indulge their vision of a happier life in the world to come – and are caught red-handed by a malignant and vengeful Calojanni Paleologo.

IRENE & ANDRONICO Nel seggio placido In the peaceful realm Dell’ombre amanti, Where shades of lovers dwell, Avran pur termine Sufferings and tears Angosce e pianti; Will come to an end;

–106– E le nostre anime And may our souls, Rapite in estasi Rapt in ecstasy, Liete gioiscano Blissfully enjoy D’un puro ardor. A pure passion.

At the opera’s first less-than-happy hearing, parts of Act I were well received, parts not; but by the time Act II was reached, the scales had been tipped against any further success by a ‘heroic ballet’, Romolo ed Ersilia which, performed between the acts, had produced an ‘indescribable boredom, a boredom which, amounting almost to desperation, could be dissipated only little by little’ ( Gazzetta Privilegiata di Venezia ). Only by reference to this boredom and exasperation can we explain why the critic, though he mentioned in this act Francesca Festa Maffei’s rondò , a chorus and ‘a magnificent quartet’, passed over the present item in absolute silence.

Tinged with melancholy, it is a vision on the part of both characters of a happiness that they have been unable to find in this life but which they hope may still await them in the world hereafter. Musically, it is an exercise in thirds and sixths in which the two singers must consciously tune their voices, one to the other, so that they blend together as mellifluously as possible. Sometimes the voices sing together, homophonically, sometimes one follows the other. But, throughout, the impression must be one of a complete and utter identification of one with the other.

–107– [7] GIOVANNI PACINI CESARE IN EGITTO Melo-dramma eroico in two acts Libretto by Jacopo Ferretti First performance: 26 December 1821 Teatro Argentina, Rome

Cajo Giulio Cesare, Roman dictator...... Domenico Donzelli Tolomeo Dionisio, King of Egypt...... Amerigo Sbigoli Cleopatra, Tolomeo’s sister...... Ester Mombelli Idalide, her confidante...... Gaetana Corini Achilla, supreme general of the Egyptian soldiers, in love with Cleopatra… ...... Alberto Torre Apollodoro, a grandee of the kingdom of Egypt, and Cleopatra’s tutor…. …..Gaetano Rambaldi

Terzetto: ‘O bel lampo lusinghiero’

Cleopatra.....Annick Massis Giulio Cesare.....Bruce Ford Tolomeo.....Kenneth Tarver

CESARE IN EGITTO occupies a place of some importance in the canon of Pacini’s works. Of comparatively early date, it post-dated a large number of

–108– Ester Mombelli

The first Cleopatra Cesare in Egitto youthful farse , but came fairly early in the great list of more ambitious opere serie that were to occupy him for the rest of his long career. It had, moreover, a momentous and fraught inaugural season, since it was accidentally responsible for causing the death of one of its principal interpreters, the tenor Amerigo Sbigoli. In the second act there is a quintet, in which a particular phrase, launched by Domenico Donzelli as Giulio Cesare, earned the singer spontaneous and warm applause. Sbigoli, in the role of Tolomeo, was apparently required to repeat the phrase. He sought to evoke the same response, but in one of the performances that followed the premiere so over- strained himself that he burst a blood-vessel in his throat. A doomed man from this moment, he was carried home to bed, where he seems to have lingered on for several weeks before dying in the first half of February and leaving, as Pacini tells us in Le mie memorie artistiche (Florence, 1865) ‘a wife and a son in the midst of desolation’.

What promised to be a highly successful inaugural season, therefore, came – at least for this opera – to a sudden and disastrous end, with the result that Donizetti, who was preparing the next new opera, Zoraida di Granata , premiered on 28 January 1822, found himself obliged to jettison all the music he had written for Sbigoli, and to recast and reduce his role as a part for a comprimaria mezzo-soprano.

–110– The libretto of Cesare in Egitto was written by the principal Roman librettist at this time, Jacopo (or Giacomo) Ferretti. As he freely admits in his preface, it was not the first time, even in recent years, that the subject had been presented upon the Roman stage. He specifically mentions an opera by Giacomo Tritto, written to a libretto by Giovanni Schmidt and given at the Teatro Aliberti on 8 January 1805, but goes on to point out that his own treatment is rather different, since he had received instructions to base it on a ballet of the same title, a work by the choreographer Gaetano Gioja which had delighted the Romans when it had been given at the Teatro Argentina in the carnival of 1808-1809. The task, it seems, had not proved an easy one, since, claiming that the different demands of a melodramma and a ballet had at times inevitably forced him to depart from the ‘sublime ideas’ of the choreographer, he unexpectedly goes on:

My friends! Writing the words of a Melo-Dramma in the midst of half a million hampering commitments is a tragic affair, more so than you can dream; and it is a great achievement if one [manages to] preserve common sense (which one should preserve unextinguished like the fire of Vesta); but often and often again it is obscured by a palpable smoke.

When duly performed as the opening spectacle of the carnival season of 1821-1822, the opera was accorded a sufficiently favourable reception. The

–111– critic of the Notizie del Giorno did not scruple, however, to voice his opinion that the music was a little too cheerful for an opera seria and was of little originality, though calculated to have general appeal. He was, he added, inclined to attribute the success of the work very much to the ensemble of the voices, to the valour of the orchestra, and to the ‘generosity’ of the libretto.

The action of the opera takes place in Alexandria, and opens as Tolomeo and his court await the arrival of Cesare’s approaching fleet. All are anxious, since Achilla, the commander of the Egyptian forces, has slain Cesare’s rival, Pompeo, and no one is certain how the Roman dictator will react. Achilla, who has Tolomeo’s ear, leads one faction, which hopes that the elimination of a rival will prove welcome; but there is also an opposing faction, led by Apollodoro, Cleopatra’s elderly tutor, which believes that Cesare will be appalled and offended by the murder. Apollodoro, who supports Cleopatra’s claims to the throne, and despises Tolomeo’s two-faced and treacherous behaviour, has in fact sent word secretly to Cleopatra in Syria, where she languishes in exile, urging her immediate return.

Cesare, as Apollodoro foresaw, condemns Achilla’s actions. He orders his immediate arrest, but then, unwilling to see his arrival marred by bloodshed, unwisely relents and consents to his release. Far from showing any gratitude, Achilla promptly plots with Tolomeo to murder Cesare. They exchange

–112– mantles – Achilla counting on gaining access to Cesare’s private quarters if he wears the regal cloak. Cesare, however, is on the alert, and foils the attempt on his life. Achilla, escaping, leaves the mantle behind, with the result that it is Tolomeo who is apprehended and loaded with chains. Cleopatra, meanwhile, has responded to Apollodoro’s urging, and returned to Egypt. No sooner do she and Cesare clap eyes upon each other than they fall deeply in love, each immediately under the spell of the other.

All this transpires in Act I. In Act II, which is of less concern to us here, Achilla succeeds in corrupting some of the Roman soldiers, and together they release Tolomeo and embark upon still further plots. As Cesare leads Cleopatra to her coronation, there is a sudden commotion. The two sides engage in open warfare, and Cesare, pressed to an extremity, escapes by throwing himself into the sea. It is assumed that he is drowned, but he survives to lead his troops to victory and to release Cleopatra from the subterranean dungeon to which Tolomeo has consigned her. Summoned away to serve Rome elsewhere, he takes leave of Cleopatra, promising that one day he will return. The final fate of Tolomeo and Achilla we never learn: as Cesare replies to Cleopatra’s enquiry: ‘Hush: ask about them no more.’

Pacini, in his own account of the opera in Le mie memorie artistiche , lists the items which became most popular, and speaks of following his customary system of using simple melody, variety in the cabalettas, and facile

–113– orchestration. His most detailed and analytical comment, however, is reserved for the terzetto we have recorded here (which he had already listed among the most applauded items):

In the terzetto of the first act I imagined a largo of a form not then practised, so ordering it that the motif was proposed by the soprano and then repeated in the manner of a canon an octave lower by the two tenors (one after the other), the soprano elegantly executing variations over the top. It produced a great effect.

The ‘not-then-practised’ element lies in allowing the soprano florid variations over the top of the entries of each of the two tenors: normally one would have expected each successive singer to have enjoyed an entry interrupted only by a phrase here and there interjected by the others. And one has only to listen to the music to appreciate the accuracy of Pacini’s description. Following the soprano’s initial enunciation of the motif, she has three variations. The first introduces a series of semiquaver and demi- semiquaver clusters; the second replaces these clusters with downward (and later upward) chromatic demi-semiquaver runs; while the third, altogether more elaborate, moves into triplets – demi-semiquaver triplets where previously there was no decoration, and semi-demi-semiquaver triplets to replace the previous note-clusters. It is, therefore, an essay in progressively elaborate and difficult divisions. I remember once giving a comparable

–114– passage from a Vaccaj opera to a young soprano with a beautifully clear voice but comparatively little experience and even less ability to count. At about the third rehearsal she simply broke down in tears, declaring that she had never been asked to sing anything so cruelly demanding in her life…

An examination of this music also tells us much about the talent and technique of the prima donna who created it, Ester Mombelli. Born in 1794, she was the daughter of a celebrated tenor, Domenico Mombelli. She would seem to have made her debut in Lisbon in 1806 in the company of her father and her elder sister, Anna (or Marianna). In 1812 the Mombelli family created Rossini’s Demetrio e Polibio , and thereafter, although Ester was to create operas for Vaccaj ( Il lupo d’Ostenda , Venice, 1818), for Donizetti (Zoraide di Granata and L’ajo nell’imbarazzo , Rome, 1824) and for others, she was to make the Rossinian repertory the mainstay of her career. Although ideally suited to music which required precise division-work of the kind of which we have been speaking, she was also said to have been able to ‘ravish with the sweetness of her singing and her expression of sentiment’ ( Notizie del giorno , Rome, 12 February 1824).

Domenico Donzelli, born in 1790, was one of a number of fine tenors at this time who came from Bergamo. One of the most highly regarded performers of his day, he created Torvaldo e Dorliska (Rome, 1815) and Il viaggio a Reims (Paris, 1825) for Rossini; Zoraida di Granata (Rome, 1822),

–115– Annick Massis Ugo conte di Parigi (Milan, 1832) and Maria Padilla (Milan, 1841) for Donizetti; Norma (Milan, 1831) for Bellini; and Marco Visconti (Turin, 1838) for Vaccaj. He was widely sought after for the generosity of his singing, the exactness of his phrasing, and the beauty of his dark-toned voice.

Though younger and rather less experienced, Amerigo Sbigoli had already created an opera for Pacini, La gioventù d’Enrico V (Rome, 1820), and one for Mercadante, Il geloso ravveduto (Rome, 1820). His career had, in addition to Rome, taken him to Bologna, Florence, Parma, Lucca and Siena. Everything suggests that, had not disastrous mishap intervened, his career, too, would have carried him to considerable heights.

The terzetto occurs about halfway through Act I, at the point where Cesare and Cleopatra first set eyes on each other and fall in love. Tolomeo, unaware of Cleopatra’s return, is taken by surprise as he enters to speak to Cesare.

CLEOPATRA O bel lampo lusinghiero O fair and flattering flash of recognition, Non tradirmi in tale istante; Do not betray me at such a moment; Io già leggo in quel sembiante Already I read in his face Che d’amor si respirerà. That we will breathe again with love. Io già leggo su quel sembiante Already I read upon that face Che d’amor delirerà. That he will be delirious with love.

–117– Kenneth Tarver and Bruce Ford Perderà per me la calma, For me he will lose his composure, Pace, calma e libertà. His peace, his calm and his liberty. CESARE O bel lampo lusinghiero O fair and flattering flash of recognition, Non tradirmi in tale istante; Do not betray me in such a moment; S’ella ha il core come il sembiante, If her heart is like her face, No, crudele non sarà. No, she will not prove cruel. Già per lei perduta ho l’alma, Already I have lost my soul to her: Pace e calma, e libertà. My peace, my calm and my liberty. TOLOMEO O fortuna mensognera, O fickle fortune, M’abbandoni in tale istante? Do you abandon me in such a moment? Io conosco quel sembiante, I know that face, So che a me sì fatal sarà. I know that it will prove so fatal for me. S’involò da me la calma, It has stolen my peace of mind from me, L’alma mia fremendo stà. My soul is left shaking.

–119– [8] SAVERIO MERCADANTE LEONORA Melo-dramma semiserio in four acts Libretto by Marco D’Arienzo First performance: 5 December 1844 Teatro Nuovo, Naples

Il Barone di Lutzow...... Antonio Avignone Guglielmo, his son...... Domenico Laboccetta Strelitz, an old soldier in the Baron’s service...... Gennaro Luzio Giorgio Burger, a doctor………………………………...... Luigi Vita Geltrude, his wife…….………………………...... ……....Adelaide De Rosa Leonora, their daughter……………….………....…….....Adelaide Rebussini Oscar Müller……………………………….……………...... Emanuele Testa

Quartetto: ‘Tu tremi, indegno’

Barone.....Alan Opie Guglielmo.....Bruce Ford Giorgio.....Roland Wood Strelitz.....Henry Waddington

ONE OF Mercadante’s later works which enjoyed a very valid success in its day – but which subsequent generations have allowed to languish in total neglect – was Leonora , first presented at the end of 1844. It is, a little unusually

–120– for this date, since the vogue for the form had all but passed, an opera semiseria , with a plot that sets one thinking at one moment of Bellini’s I puritani , and at another of Donizetti’s Linda di Chamounix . It was also unusual in that it was first performed at Naples’ Teatro Nuovo, a small theatre that was generally reserved for intimate comic opera. Leonora was certainly not a ‘grand’ heroic opera, but the Teatro Nuovo must nevertheless have stretched its resources to present it. It is, finally, unexpected to find Mercadante writing for such a small theatre so late in his career, but, as a review that Vincenzo Torelli published in L’Omnibus noted, he brought to it the same scrupulous care that he would have done had it been composed for one of the first theatres in the world.

Set in Prussia in the 18th century, during the reign of Frederick the Great, the opera tells an initially thwarted but eventually happy love story. The Baron of Lutzow has a son, Guglielmo, who loves his childhood companion, Leonora, the daughter of Giorgio Burger, the resident doctor on the Baron’s estate. The Baron opposes the match, however, and grossly insults Burger by pointing out their social inequality. He sends Guglielmo to the wars, while Burger and his wife try to coerce Leonora into a marriage with a young man by the name of Oscar Müller. Leonora, confessing to Oscar that she loves another, successfully appeals to his sense of generosity with the result that he publicly declares that he cannot marry her. His gesture is, however, rapidly overtaken by fresh developments, for Strelitz, an old soldier who has led the

–121– Roland Wood Henry Waddington Baron’s tenants to battle, returns to announce that Guglielmo has been killed. The effect of the news is twofold: the Baron, too late, relents of his severity, while Leonora, distracted by grief, goes out of her mind. But Guglielmo is not, in fact, dead. He reappears – Leonora recovers her sanity – and the opera ends as she and Guglielmo prepare to wed.

The comic element in this plot comes, we should add, from a single character: Strelitz, the bluff and sabre-rattling old soldier. Originally interpreted by the famous Neapolitan buffo bass, Gennaro Luzio, he sang in the original production (though not in the published score) in dialect, whereas the other members of the cast sang standard Italian.

In its review, L’Omnibus drew attention to those items that met with particular acclaim, and the very first it mentions is the all-male quartet which is recorded here, the largo of the finale of the first act, described as ‘most beautiful, and of sublime effect’. Giorgio Burger has confided to the Barone that his daughter Leonora is deeply in love with Guglielmo, but any hopes he may have had that the Barone would be sympathetic to the match have been dashed by the latter’s class-conscious indignation. Guglielmo, arriving on the scene, confirms his devotion to Leonora, but only to have his father present him with a pistol and a challenge that he should first shoot him – his own father – before going through with such a marriage.

–123– BARONE to Guglielmo Tu tremi, indegno!... tu impallidisci! You tremble, unworthy fellow!... You grow pale! Fa core, prostrami al suolo esangue; Take courage, stretch me dead on the ground; Il parricidio ormai compisci: Now carry out the murder of your father: Solleva il braccio... eccoti il cor. Raise your arm... here is my heart. “Poi colla mano che gronda sangue “Then with a hand that is dripping blood “Intreccia il serto sacro all’amor!” “Weave the garland that is sacred to love!” GUGLIELMO in supplication to his father Taci, ah taci… Qui nel mio petto Hush, ah speak not so... My innocent affection Spontaneo nacque sì puro affetto; Sprang up spontaneously in my breast; Immenso crebbe, ma puro e santo It grew to prodigious size, but pure and holy, Come la prece di vergin cor. Like the prayer of a virgin heart. Esso m’è speme, m’è vita, incanto; It is my hope, my life, my enchantment; Il cielo istesso mi schiude amor! Love opens up heaven itself before me!

–124– GIORGIO in an aside Ah! sciagurati, di qual periglio Ah! wretched men, how much danger there is V’è quell’orgoglio, quell’ansia avara!... In that pride, in that money-grasping anxiety!... L’amor di padre, l’amor di figlio A father’s love, a son’s love... Tutto soffoca vano splendor!... Vain ostentation suffocates it all!... Oh! l’aura a culla di quanto è amara! Oh! how the lot [of the rich] is bitter from the cradle, Oh come i miseri han lieto il cor! Oh, [by contrast] how joyful the hearts of the poor! STRELITZ to Giorgio, under his breath Hai visto, hai visto, qual precipizio! Have you seen the precipice [you’ve opened up]? Sei tu, vecchiaccio, senza giudizio. You’re the one, ugly old man, who lacks judgement. Che mai credevi?... che mai temevi!... What were you thinking of?... whatever did you fear?... Chi grande nasce sente l’onor. He who is born in high places is sensitive where honour’s concerned. Ora che entrambi sono nemici, Now that you’ve set father and son at odds, Via, su, che dici?... non hai rossor? What have you to say?... Are you not ashamed of yourself?

–125– We must stress that the extract presented here is only one section of a larger item: the largo or concertato from a full-scale first finale. The succession of chords that introduces the extract are, in fact, the transition from an earlier movement that culminated in Guglielmo’s distress as the Barone ordered him to shoot him, his own father.

In setting this quartet, Mercadante was faced with a challenge: how to keep his voices audibly separate and distinct when he was writing for a tenor (Guglielmo), a baritone (the Barone) and two basses (Giorgio Burger and Strelitz). His solution is masterly. The Barone begins with an extended passage which is at the same time both melodic and declamatory: a melody which is heavily accented to convey maximum meaning, in this instance the Barone’s haughty and indignant scorn and anger. Guglielmo, when he enters, is given lines that are more legato and sustained, seeringly expressive of his anguish and despair. Meanwhile Giorgio and Strelitz have entered underneath, Giorgio singing sustained lines which for the most part provide the harmonic basis of the item, while Strelitz, in time-honoured buffo style, punctuates the onward flow with lines of patter.

The extraordinary success enjoyed by this opera may be measured by the fact that it enjoyed a stage history even more extensive – in fact a great deal more extensive – than that of many other operas which have long since enjoyed modern-day revival and rediscovery. In Italy alone it was mounted in

–126– nearly 40 cities, holding the stage with tenacity into the 1860s and last seen in 1876. Abroad, it was seen in Lisbon (1846 and 1847), Corfu (1846 and 1853), Berlin (1847), Madrid (1847 and 1848), Barcelona (1847, 1851 and 1855), Copenhagen (1848), Oporto (1851), Odessa (1851 and 1854), Rio de Janeiro (1853), Buenos Aires (1855), Ajaccio (1858), Constantinople (1859) and Paris (1866). In 1859 a shortened version, in one act, was produced in Ferrara under the title I cacciatori delle Alpe (‘The Huntsmen of the Alps’). The setting was altered to the countryside near Turin, and, in keeping with the political temper of the times, all the patriotic and military references to the Prussia of the original were modified to refer to Italy.

–127– Annick Massis [9] GIOVANNI PACINI ALLAN CAMERON Melo-dramma in three acts Libretto by Francesco Maria Piave First performance: 28 March 1848 Teatro La Fenice, Venice

Carlo II, King of Scotland……………………….....……..Domenico Conti Allano or Allan Cameron, chief of the Cameron clan....……....Felice Varesi Editta, his daughter…………………………...... Annetta De La Grange Evano, her brother…………………………….....……...... Angelo Zuliani Malvina, Editta’s confidante…………….……...... Maria Zambelli De Rosa Gionata, a general of the Parliamentary forces...... Eugenio Monzani

Aria finale: ‘O d’un re martire, alma beata’

Editta.....Annick Massis Allano.....Alan Opie

Chorus of Puritans and Chorus of Cameronian supporters..... Geoffrey Mitchell Choir

BRITISH HISTORY and geography, as anyone knows who has ever looked at Donizetti’s Emilia di Liverpool or Bellini’s I puritani , have on occasion received rough treatment at the hands of Italian librettists. Towns and cities

–129– have been apt to shift their location; flat landscapes have become alpine; ‘The Puritans of Scotland’ have been said to inhabit the environs of Plymouth. The present opera is no exception: the Highland Camerons sally forth from Lochiel Castle to engage in the Battle of Worcester. But, more mystifying still is a question which we are – so far – unable to answer: who was Allan Cameron? In the opera he is the chieftain of Clan Cameron, and Charles Stuart’s chief supporter at the Battle of Worcester. But consultation of books of reference has failed to come up with an exact historical counterpart. The most likely candidate would seem to be Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel (1629- 1719) who in about the year 1647, succeeded his grandfather as the Cameron chieftain. The brief notices we have found of him mention that, after the execution of Charles I, he sought to play his part in raising an army on behalf of Charles II, but add that the dilatoriness of his followers delayed him so much that, when on his way to join the King’s forces at Stirling, he was intercepted by Cromwell and forced to turn back. Consequently he does not seem to have had any involvement in the Battle of Worcester (1651), though he was associated with the Earl of Glencairn in a rising on Charles’s behalf in 1653. And that, in terms of ‘operatic’ history, is probably near enough. The alteration of his first name from Ewen to Allan is probably best explained by the fact that he did historically have a brother called Allan, and by the suggestion that the librettist, Francesco Maria Piave, may well have found Allan more euphonious, and thus more suitable for setting to music, than Ewen.

–130– Pacini wrote this opera for production at the Teatro La Fenice in Venice in 1848, but it proved an unfortunate time to be mounting a new work: 1848 was ‘the year of revolutions’, and with much of Italy in political turmoil, no one had any time or thought to spend on the theatre. Allan Cameron was duly performed, but attracted no notice in the press, and sank after only one or two performances. Pacini’s account in Le mie memorie artistiche shows that even in terms of his own priorities the opera was swept aside and became almost a secondary consideration. The account is too long to quote here in full, but even a shortened version will indicate how he, like all others, found himself suddenly involved in the political situation:

The year 1848 was a memorable time! I was already in Venice, intent upon my new composition, entitled Allan Cameron , when the famous ‘five days of Milan’ took place. The Venetian populace was in the greatest agitation, [buffeted] between hope and fear. Small skirmishes took place between the populace and the Austrian soldiers. One man was thrown into the canal, another wounded! All of a sudden the Governor proclaimed the Constitution. The mob raced to free Manin and Tommasèo from prison and carry them in triumph to the Piazza S. Marco. I was staying at the inn of the Regina d’Inghilterra, run by my very dear friends the Benvenuti brothers. One of them, Francesco, said to me: “Come now, you must assume the task of forming the battalion for the quarter of S. Marco.”

–131– Knowing a little of military art (since among my other honorific occupations I can still count that of being a major in the Urban Guard of Viareggio), I had a little table set up in the courtyard of the inn, and had prepared what I needed to enroll all the volunteers who came running in great numbers. I set up the companies, and then occupied myself with their instruction: but, without arms – either firearms or side-arms – what was to be done? In the arsenal there were only the halberds of the old republic, and broadswords. Well and good! I set the battalion in order as best I could. [….] After a few hours’ sleep, my usual familiar friends informed me that on the following evening the theatre was to reopen with my new opera, which had been rehearsed but not performed on account of these events, and that I had also to compose La ronda della Guardia Civica (‘The round of the Civic Guard’), which that same evening would be performed between one and another of the acts of the opera. My very dear friend Federigo Schmit wrote the verses and I set them to music. No sooner said than done: everything was in order. The following day, therefore, there was a great celebration in the theatre, attended publicly by the Governor wearing the tricolour band on his arm. The opera that night was excessively applauded, but certainly no one took in a note of it, since cheers in honour of Italy intervened at every phrase, at every movement and at the end of every piece. Then the Ronda della Guardia Civica was sung, and had to be repeated three

–132– times over. I, too, sang with the chorus, and the famous De-Lagrange, the tenor Mirate and the excellent Varesi were the companions of my triumph. But after the calm comes the storm […] On the morrow goodbye Constitution! The Republic was proclaimed: and, to tell the truth, I thought it best to pack my bag and return home to my family…

The reception accorded any opera at its first hearing was of enormous importance in Italy at this time – many a work had its fortunes made or destroyed, not by its own intrinsic merits but by (as here) the circumstances under which it was created, or perhaps by the nerves of the performers on the first night, or by the mood and whim of a first-night audience. An earnest attempt was made to vindicate Allan Cameron three years later, and on this occasion it met with a valid success. But it would also be true to say that it never really recovered from the unfortunate timing of its premiere in 1848.

The attempt to vindicate it also took place in Venice, again at the Teatro La Fenice. It was given on 11 January 1851, with Felice Varesi once more in the part of Allano, and now with Teresa Brambilla (Verdi’s first Gilda in Rigoletto ) as Editta and Raffaele Mirate as Carlo. It is also interesting to note that the text of the opera was clearly expanded, since, originally in three acts, it was now in four, and a short report from Venice which appeared in the Neapolitan journal L’Omnibus specifically mentions a terzetto in Act IV

–133– which certainly did not form part of the original. This brief report is of sufficient interest to justify our quoting it in full:

This Allan Cameron (the name in truth is neither very poetic nor harmonious) was produced for the first time in March 1848; but at that time one had other things in one’s head besides going to the theatre, and the opera went unheard except by some unshakable subscribers, and after one or two evenings was taken off. Now they have recalled it to life, and they did well to do so. Pacini’s opera has parts that are most beautiful, and first and foremost an exquisite, varied and lively orchestration; magnificent choruses; and among other items a little polacca , if I’m not mistaken, sung by the prima donna, seconded most ingeniously by the instruments, and two elegant arias for the tenor, sung with that sweet expression which we all associate with Mirate. To these pieces must be added, for their great craftsmanship of composition and their effect, the finale of the second act, as well as, for sprightliness of motifs, a duet between the prima donna and the tenor in the third, a terzetto between them and the bass, Varesi, in the fourth, and lastly the most attractive rondò which closes the score, and which la Brambilla sings with unequalled grace and mastery. As we have noted on another occasion, Brambilla cannot boast great power, but her qualities are grace, elegance, and purity of technique, on which account her reputation goes ahead, and

–134– attracts the greatest attention. Varesi also sang in a most praiseworthy manner, but he does not have the most prominent part.

Despite this successful relaunching, Tom Kaufman’s exhaustive researches have come up with only two other productions – Modena (1851) and Verona (1854) – both with Fanny Salvini-Donatelli (the prima donna who sang at the unfortunate premiere of Verdi’s La traviata ) as Editta. A perfunctory stage history perhaps, but in these days when we have reassessed and come to admire such once-maligned Pacini operas as Maria regina d’Inghilterra and Carlo di Borgogna , Allan Cameron could well be another eminently deserving of re-examination.

The libretto of the opera was written by Francesco Maria Piave, and, as we should expect from such an accomplished craftsman, it is clear, concise and told in simple and effective Italian. Some days before the Battle of Worcester, the Highland Camerons gather before the castle of Lochiel in response to a call from their chieftain, Allano or Allan – he is referred to by both forms of the name – and swear to devote themselves to the cause of the young king, Carlo (Charles II). Editta (Edith) and her maidens have been embroidering a banner with Carlo’s crest, and Allano realises that his daughter, though only too well aware of the discrepancy between her rank and Carlo’s, has fallen deeply in love with him. Carlo himself appears, at first incognito, under the name of Ferlane; but when Evano (Evan), Allano’s son, announces that a group of Cromwellian soldiers has entered the castle, Editta informs the –135– Camerons of Carlo’s true identity. Gionata (Jonathan), one of the Cromwellian generals, demands the surrender of a fugitive he knows is concealed in the castle – a demand which is naturally refused – and the midway finale is reached with a confrontation between the two sides as they prepare to do battle.

Act III takes place several days after the Battle of Worcester. The Scots have been defeated, and Allano taken prisoner. Carlo arrives on the seashore, followed closely by Editta, who urges him to seek safety in immediate flight. As their pursuers are heard approaching, a group of fishermen ferry Carlo to safety aboard a vessel which is waiting offshore. The penultimate scene shows us Allano and his followers in chains, prisoners in a ruined abbey. Allano blames himself for leading his followers to their fate, but when Gionata offers them pardon if they will renounce their allegiance to Carlo, all indignantly refuse.

The last scene takes place in the cloister of this same ruined abbey, where we discover that Editta has also been taken prisoner. Since this scene is recorded here in full, rather than recount the action we print the text:

The open cloister of an old half-ruined abbey. Through the arcades there is a view of the countryside beyond. On the right-hand side (looking from the auditorium) is a door leading to a ground-floor hall; on the left the entrance to the abbey-church. It is dawn.

–136– CHORUS OF PURITANS from within the church

FIRST PART OF THE CHORUS Gedeone guerrier del Signore Gideon, the warrior of the Lord, La sua spada tremenda impugnò; Took his mighty sword in his hand; SECOND PART OF THE CHORUS Del Leone di Giuda il valore The bravery of the Lion of Judah Di Filiste la turba fugò. Put the horde of Philistines to flight. THE WHOLE CHORUS Di Cromvello i nemici cadranno, The enemies of Cromwell will fall Come foglie che il gelo colpì. Like leaves that have been struck by frost. Pietà indarno, mercè chiederanno, In vain will they plead for pity, for mercy, Ora sorge l’estremo lor dì. Now the last day of their lives is dawning. (Allano meanwhile crosses through the cloister, dragged with his companions to death. Editta is conducted by Puritan soldiers to the same fate, but, arrived in the centre of the stage,is held back.)

EDITTA Sia lode a te, gran Dio, salvato ho il re! Praise be to thee, O God, I have saved the king! Che cale a me, se spenta What matters it to me if this life of mine Anzi tempo cadrà questa mia vita? Be spent before its time? Meco morrà pur anco il padre mio; My father, too, is to die with me; Libere alfin nostr’alme, Freed at last, our souls,

–137– Eterne nel Signore, Will live forever in the Lord, Di Carlo s’uniran al genitore. Will be united with Carlo’s father. (She kneels.)

O d’un re martire, – alma beata, O blessed soul of a martyred king, Queste ad accogliere – scendi placata, Descend appeased to receive our souls, Al trono guidale – del Re dei re. Conduct them to the throne of the King of kings. Da questo libere – terreno frale, Freed from this earthly human frame, Al puro ascendano – gaudio immortale, May they ascend to pure immortal bliss, L’eterno godano – premio con te. May they enjoy their everlasting reward with you. (A confused noise is heard, at first in the distance, and a clash of arms which, mixed with confused shouts, gradually approaches.)

CHORUS Morte agli empi!... all’armi!... morte!... Death to the wicked!... To arms!... Death!... Viva Allano!... viva il forte!... May Allano live!... Let the brave man live!... EDITTA Quali grida!... il genitore!... What shouts are these?... My father!... CHORUS Viva Allano!... Let Allano live!... EDITTA running to observe Che mai fia! Whatever can it be? Padre, padre! Father, father!

–138– Annetta de la Grange

The first Editta Allan Cameron (Allano and Evano enter, followed by mountaineers, women and fishermen, armed with pruning hooks, scythes and fishing spears, who put Editta’s guards to flight. Meanwhile the sun has risen.)

ALLANO embracing Editta Figlia mia! My daughter! Questi prodi m’han salvato. These brave heroes have saved me. Sentì il ciel di noi pietà. Heaven has taken pity upon us. CHORUS Or del re seguite il fato, Now follow the fortunes of the king Finchè il ciel si placherà. Until such time as Heaven shall be placated. EDITTA Ah! del core il voto ardente Ah! let us raise the ardent prayers Inalziamo al Dio supremo; Of our hearts to Almighty God; Egli è grande, egli è clemente, He is great, he is merciful, Non invan pregato avremo. We shall not have prayed in vain. Alla Scozia, a’ figli suoi May He restore our father, our king Renda il padre, renda il re. To Scotland and his children. Egli è grande, egli clemente, He is great, he is merciful, Premierà la fé. He will reward our faith. Ah! del core, del core al voto Ah! may he restore our father, our king Renda il padre, renda il re. To the prayers of our hearts. ALL Ah! di Scozia, tu che il puoi, Oh God! Thou who canst bring all things to pass,

–140– Rendi, o Nume, il padre, il re. Give us back the father, the king of Scotland. EDITTA Ah! del core il voto ardente Ah! let us raise the ardent prayers etc . etc . ALL Ciel! deh rendi a noi il padre, Heaven! ah, restore to us our father, Il padre, il re. Our father, the king. (All hasten to secure the flight of the Camerons.)

Pacini is a composer who never ceases to surprise. The scene opens with a great sonorous chorus, ‘Gedeone guerrier del Signore’, an excellent example of what was very much a feature of the age. We may compare ‘Vedeste, vedemmo’ from Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda , or ‘Va pensiero’ from Verdi’s Nabucco. In 12/8 time, giving an insistent triplet rhythm pulsating in the bass, and featuring a solo trumpet obbligato , it begins in unison for the men, but flowers into four- part harmony with the entry of the women.

A melodic recitative then leads into Editta’s aria, ‘O d’un re martire’. Right from the opening ritornello , with its beautifully moulded melody and rising chromatic bass, this is music that commands our attention. Ostensibly the time-signature is 3/4, but once we are past the opening lines it becomes clear that Pacini is thinking rather in terms of 9/8, aiming for extended lines of flowing triplets, and so establishing a link in feeling if not in actual melody with the preceding chorus. It is, even more remarkably, an aria of unexpected

–141– length, sometimes repeating its spun-out lines but more often moving forwards to new ideas and new, pleasingly rounded phrases. In the introduction to this recording we referred to Mercadante as ‘the more weighty and substantial’ of the two composers, but this present aria shows that Pacini is a composer who can never be taken for granted. In a recording that is full of riches, this is, we believe, unquestionably the jewel in the crown.

Allan Cameron dates, we should also point out, from well on in the years of Pacini’s maturity, at a time when he frequently tried to give each of his works a recognisable harmonic or melodic colouring of its own. One would need to hear a complete performance of the opera to know if that is so here, but it is worth noting the way in which ‘Gedeone guerrier del Signore’ establishes a ‘context’ for everything that follows. In this tale of Charles II and his Cromwellian opponents, there is nothing recognisably Cromwellian or Puritan about this music. But it does have a strongly religious flavour which is certainly an Italian’s conception of what the fervour of Puritan zeal must have been like. It could well be our ‘key’ to the overall colouring of the opera.

But Pacini was an uneven composer, ever unpredictable. The tempo di mezzo which immediately follows this first slow section of Editta’s aria may begin acceptably, but the entry of the military band, heralding the

–142– appearance of Allano, brings us music of a type which, 40 years ago when so many of us were discovering Italian opera of this period, would have brought down coals of critical wrath upon the composer’s head. Fortunately we are nowadays able to recognise and tolerate such ‘lapses’ as part and parcel of the style of his age. They are typical of the ‘trumpery’ music written for military band at the time.

The final section of the scene, Editta’s two-verse cabaletta, is an excellent example of the type of music which, at a much earlier stage of his career, had won Pacini the soubriquet of maestro delle cabalette . Depending essentially upon the discovery of an opening phrase which is rhythmically and melodically arresting, it is an unashamed bravura display-piece for the singer, becoming ever more demanding and ever more brilliant as it proceeds.

–143– [10] SAVERIO MERCADANTE VIRGINIA Tragedia lirica in three acts Libretto by Salvatore Cammarano First performance: 7 April 1866 Teatro San Carlo, Naples

Virginio...... Francesco Pandolfini Virginia, his daughter...... Marcellina Lotti Della Santa Appio...... Raffaele Mirate Icilio...... Giorgio Stigelli Marco...... Marco Arati Tullia...... Adelaide Morelli Valerio...... Michele Memmi

Terzetto: ‘Paventa insano gli sdegni miei’

Virginia.....Majella Cullagh Appio.....Bruce Ford Icilio.....Alan Opie

OF ALL THE many stories which classical Roman history has offered operatic librettists, one of the strongest is that of Appius and Virginia, and it is not surprising that several 19th-century composers set it – notably Alessandro

–144– Marcellina Lotti Della Santa

The first Virginia Virginia Nini (Genoa, 1843), Nicola Vaccaj (Rome, 1845), Enrico Petrella (Naples, 1861) and Mercadante (Naples, 1866). But it was not a subject which met with ready acceptance by the political authorities of the day. An illustration of the corruption that all too often results from power, it particularly offended the censors in Naples in the 1840s and 1850s, when their regulations were at their most stringent. Nini’s opera played elsewhere in Italy, but never in Naples. Vaccaj, when his version scored a very real success in Rome, deliberately travelled to Naples in the hope of getting it staged there – but without success (‘on account of the terrible censorship which begins by excluding the subject’ 8). Enrico Petrella took advantage of the overthrow of the Bourbon regime to compose his Virginia in 1860 and secure a staging in 1861. And in doing so he actually forestalled and still further delayed the production of Mercadante’s opera, which had been composed as early as 1849, but which, forbidden by the censors in 1851, was still unheard. A subject which had occupied Mercadante’s thoughts for many years, since he is known to have suggested it to the directors of the Teatro La Fenice in Venice as early as December 1839, it had to wait until 1866 before it was finally staged. It was the last of the composer’s operas to see the footlights – though not the last actually composed. ______8 A letter of 1 March 1845, written in Naples and addressed to his wife in Pesaro, preserved in the Biblioteca Comunale ‘Filelfica’ of Tolentino.

–146– A brief glance at the story will reveal the reasons for this aversion on the part of the authorities. Appius Claudius in 451 BC was a member of the Decemviri – the ‘Ten Men’ – the group of patricians who at that time ruled Rome. Marriage between a patrician and a plebeian was forbidden, but he fell in love with Virginia, a plebeian, and determined to have her by foul means if not by fair. She was already engaged to a tribune, Icilius, and thus predictably rejected Appius’s advances, only to find him, in collaboration with a colleague and partner-in-crime, Marcus, putting forward a false claim that she was not the true daughter of her father, Virginius, but had been born of one of Marcus’s slaves, and had been bought as a child by Virginius’s wife when her own child died. It was decreed, therefore, that she should be returned to Marcus’s ‘protection’ and jurisdiction – and thus, of course, delivered over to Appius. But Virginius, in saying farewell to her, drew a dagger and slew her rather than see her dishonoured. The resulting scandal resulted in the fall of Appius, and the abolition of the Decemviri.

The story, drawn in the first instance from Alfieri’s tragedy of 1777-8 of the same name and ultimately from Livy, lent itself to operatic treatment, since it fell naturally and easily into three acts, each of them containing strong dramatic situations. The first expository act ends with a confrontation between Virginia, Icilio and Appio (to give them their Italianised names). The second culminates in Appio’s interruption of the marriage of Virginia and Icilio. And the third ends with Virginio’s slaying of his daughter.

When eventually staged, Virginia was interpreted by a strong cast, headed by Marcellina Lotti Della Santa (who had been Verdi’s first Mina in Aroldo , –147– Raffaele Mirate

The first Appio Virginia and who was to be the first Gabriella di Vergy when that Donizetti opera was given its posthumous premiere in Naples in 1869), and by Raffaele Mirate (who had been the Duke of Mantua in the first performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto in 1851). Mercadante, by this time totally blind, sat in a box with a few friends, and heard himself accorded an unprecedented ovation. As Vincenzo Torelli, the proprietor and critic of the Neapolitan journal L’Omnibus later recalled, he wept for joy yet was modest in his glory. Torelli’s account continues: ‘That evening I, too, was in the theatre, and the emotion of my heart knew no limits; I felt it would burst for joy at seeing such festivity and enthusiasm; that venerable head of snow-white hair, that broad brow, the seat of his genius, those eyes that were sightless yet divine in their silent majesty, those tears that streamed down his pale cheeks, that uncertain extending of his arms towards the delirious public – [they were sights] that will never leave my memory.’

The terzetto recorded here is the confrontation of Virginia, Icilio and Appio at the end of Act I. Appio comes as an intruder into Virginio’s house, intent upon persuading Virginia to surrender herself to him. But at this moment Icilio enters, and Appio realises, to his anger, that he has a rival.

APPIO Come!... Il ver discerno? How’s this!... Do I perceive the truth? Tu! You!

–149– Majella Cullagh Bruce Ford VIRGINIA (Chi m’aita?...) (Who will help me?...) APPIO Ho in sen l’averno!... I have all Hell in my heart!...

ICILIO Paventa insano gli sdegni miei: Fear my anger, madman: A mia vendetta freno non v’è... My revenge knows no restraint... APPIO Paventa iniquo gli sdegni miei: Fear my anger, evil man: A mia vendetta freno non v’è... My revenge knows no restraint... VIRGINIA (Ah! pari a questo crudel tormento (Ah! no mortal has been able to experience Nessun mortale provar potè!) Cruel torment the like of this!) ICILIO & APPIO Pria che tu ardissi amar costei, Before you dared to love her, “Pria che un rivale scovrire in me,” “Before you discovered a rival in me,” Tutti nemici aver gli Dei Oh, how much better had it been for you Oh, quanto meglio era per te! To have made all the Gods your enemies! VIRGINIA (Un Dio commosso al mio spavento (May a God, moved by my terror, A lui soccorra, soccorra a me Succour him and succour me –

–151– Se la pietade un vuoto accento If pity is not as meaningless a word Siccome in terra in ciel non è.) In heaven as it is on earth.)

APPIO Dell’odio antico quest’alma or prova This soul of mine now feels a hatred Odio ben altro!... Very different from the hatred of old!... VIRGINIA (Il cor mi trema!) (My heart trembles!) APPIO Pur che tu l’ami quasi a me giova... If you love her, it almost promotes my purpose... Mi fia rapirtela la gioia suprema!... It will be my supreme joy to tear her from you!... VIRGINIA bridling with indignation Appio... Appio... ICILIO Vaneggia! You’re raving! APPIO E chi! chi mai And who! who ever could La sottrarrebbe al mio poter? Rescue her from my power? VIRGINIA I Numi... The Gods... APPIO Stolta!... sul Tebro omai Simple fool!... by now there is Nume non havvi che il mio poter. No God over Tiber except my power.

–152– ICILIO Nume non havvi che il tuo poter? There’s no God except your power?

Calcando il mio cadavere Only by trampling over my corpse Giunger puoi solo ad essa... Can you approach her... Per via di sangue il vizio Vice makes its way towards virtue Alla virtù s’appressa. Along a road of blood. Ma fin che il giorno io miro, But for as long as I behold the day, Ma fin che un’aura io spiro, But for as long as I draw breath, A Roma ed a Virginia A God still remains Un Dio rimane ancor! For Rome and for Virginia! APPIO Non cangi, temerario, You do not, rash man, alter Con vani accenti il fato... Fate with empty words... Trema... già sei colpevole Tremble... you are already guilty D’amarla, o sciagurato! Of loving her, you wretch! Su voi, su Roma intera My might rules over you, La mia possanza impera... Over all Rome... Vedrem fra Icilio ed Appio Between Icilio and Appio, we shall see Qual sarà Dio miglior. Which may prove the greater God. VIRGINIA to Appio Il detto mio rammenta: Imprint my word in your memory: Tu non mi avrai che spenta – You must kill me before you’ll have me – Il sangue di Virginio The blood of Virginio

–153– Ribolle in questo cor! Boils over in my heart! Va... se non me, Decemviro, Go... if you respect not me, Decemviro, Rispetta i miei Penati: Respect my household Gods: Esci, dai lari involati Begone, fly from these precincts Che troppo hai profanati!... Which you have too flagrantly profaned!... VIRGINIA & ICILIO Esci! Depart! APPIO Trema! Tremble! VIRGINIA & ICILIO Vanne! Begone! ALL THREE Trema! Tremble! (Appio leaves.)

Undoubtedly the most ‘advanced’, the most impassioned and the most Verdian music to be heard on this disc, this terzetto represents Mercadante at the pinnacle of his powers. It takes the form of a confrontation between the two tenors, with the soprano watching – and commenting – in distraught despair. A brief introductory passage, pregnant with the drama to come, leads into the andante movement, ‘Paventa insano gli sdegni miei’. Rhythmic urgency, generous melody based on heightened declamation, sudden alternation of forte and pianissimo – this movement is a text-book illustration

–154– David Parry of so many of the dramatic devices and resources of the day. It brings us, too (at ‘Pria che tu ardissi amar costei’) the best example offered on this disc of Mercadante’s command of the motivo spiegato – that sonorously ample variety of melody that unfurls, and goes on unfurling, as we listen. And then, as it draws towards its close, it derives its crowning distinction from a series of emotionally affecting modulations.

But the interest does not end here. A tempo di mezzo brings us to an allegro mosso cabaletta, ‘Calcando il mio cadavere’. ‘Vigorous’ is a scarcely adequate term to describe the excitement generated here. Appropriately Icilio and Appio, the two rivals, sing the same music one after the other, each throwing out his challenges as he does so, but a distraught Virginia, when it comes her turn to enter, carries the movement away with a twice-enunciated variant of her own before all three voices join in a final peroration. The music pulses with energy and emotion: one feels the hearts of all three participants pounding with anger, indignation, defiance and thwarted passion.

It is not for nothing that we have taken from this terzetto the title we have given to this entire recital of the music of Pacini and Mercadante.

© Jeremy Commons

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