A Book of Operas: Their Histories, Their Plots, and Their Music

by Henry Edward Krehbiel

and when he goes to open the wicket, Marcellina expresses no sympathy for his sufferings, but ecstatically proclaims her love for Fidelio as the reason why she must needs say nay. And this she does, not amiably or sympathetically, but pettishly and with an impatient reiteration of "No, no, no, no!" in which the bassoon drolly supports her. A second knocking at the door, then a third, and finally she is relieved of her tormentor by Rocco, who calls him out into the garden. Left alone, Marcellina sings her longing for Fidelio and pictures the domestic bliss which shall follow her union with him. Rocco and Jaquino enter, and close after them Leonore, wearied by the weight of some chains which she had carried to the smith for repairs. She renders an account for purchases of supplies, and her thrift rejoices the heart of Rocco, who praises her zeal in his behalf and promises her a reward. Her reply, that she does not do her duty merely for the sake of wage, he interprets as an allusion to love for his daughter. The four now give expression to their thoughts and emotions. Marcellina indulges her day-dream of love; Leonore reflects upon the dangerous position in which her disguise has placed her; Jaquino observes with trepidation the disposition of Rocco to bring about a marriage between his daughter and Fidelio. Varied and contrasting emotions, these, yet Beethoven has cast their expression in the mould of a canon built on the following melody, which is sung in turn by each of the four personages:—

[Musical excerpt]

From a strictly musical point of view the fundamental mood of the four personages has thus the same expression, and this Beethoven justifies by making the original utterance profoundly contemplative, not only by the beautiful subject of the canon, but by the exalted instrumental introduction—one of those uplifting, spiritualized slow movements which are typical of the composer. This feeling he enhances by his orchestration—violas and violoncellos divided, and basses—in a way copying the solemn color with more simple means which Mozart uses in his invocation of the Egyptian deities in "The Magic Flute." Having thus established this fundamental mood, he gives liberty of individual utterance in the counterpoint melodies with which each personage embroiders the original theme when sung by the others. Neither Rocco nor Marcellina seems to think it necessary to consult Leonore in the matter, taking her acquiescence for granted. Between themselves they arrange that the wedding shall take place when next Pizarro makes his monthly visit to Seville to give an account of his stewardship, and the jailer admonishes the youthful pair to put money in their purses in a song of little distinction, but containing some delineative music in the orchestra suggesting the rolling and jingling of coins. Having been made seemingly to agree to the way of the maid and her father, Leonore seeks now to turn it to the advantage of her mission. She asks and obtains the jailer's permission to visit with him the cells in which political prisoners are kept—all but one, in which is confined one who is either a great criminal or a man with powerful enemies ("much the same thing," comments Rocco). Of him even the jailer knows nothing, having resolutely declined to hear his story. However, his sufferings cannot last much longer, for by Pizarro's orders his rations are being reduced daily; he has been all but deprived of light, and even the straw which had served as a couch has been taken from him. And how long has he been imprisoned? Over two years. "Two years! "Leonore almost loses control of her feelings. Now she urges that she must help the jailer wait upon him. "I have strength and courage." The old man is won over. He will ask the governor for permission to take Fidelio with him to the secret cells, for he is growing old, and death will soon claim him. The dramatic nerve has been touched with the first allusion to the mysterious the matter, taking her acquiescence for granted. Between themselves they arrange that the wedding shall take place when next Pizarro makes his monthly visit to Seville to give an account of his stewardship, and the jailer admonishes the youthful pair to put money in their purses in a song of little distinction, but containing some delineative music in the orchestra suggesting the rolling and jingling of coins. Having been made seemingly to agree to the way of the maid and her father, Leonore seeks now to turn it to the advantage of her mission. She asks and obtains the jailer's permission to visit with him the cells in which political prisoners are kept—all but one, in which is confined one who is either a great criminal or a man with powerful enemies ("much the same thing," comments Rocco). Of him even the jailer knows nothing, having resolutely declined to hear his story. However, his sufferings cannot last much longer, for by Pizarro's orders his rations are being reduced daily; he has been all but deprived of light, and even the straw which had served as a couch has been taken from him. And how long has he been imprisoned? Over two years. "Two years!" Leonore almost loses control of her feelings. Now she urges that she must help the jailer wait upon him. "I have strength and courage." The old man is won over. He will ask the governor for permission to take Fidelio with him to the secret cells, for he is growing old, and death will soon claim him. The dramatic nerve has been touched with the first allusion to the mysterious prisoner who is being slowly tortured to death, and it is thrilling to note how Beethoven's genius (so often said to be purely epical) responds. In the trio which follows, the dialogue which has been outlined first intones a motif which speaks merely of complacency:—

[Musical excerpt—"Gut, Söhnchen, gut hab' immer">[

No sooner does it reach the lips of Leonore, however, than it becomes the utterance of proud resolve:—

[Musical excerpt—"Ich habe Muth!">[

and out of it grows a hymn of heroic daring. Marcellina's utterances are all concerned with herself, with an admixture of solicitude for her father, whose lugubrious reflections on his own impending dissolution are gloomily echoed in the music:—

[Musical excerpt—"Ich bin ja bald des Grabes Beute">[

A march accompanies the entrance of Pizarro. {2} Pizarro receives his despatches from Rocco, and from one of the letters learns that the Minister of Justice, having been informed that several victims of arbitrary power are confined in the prisons of which he is governor, is about to set out upon a tour of inspection. Such a visit might disclose the wrong done to Florestan, who is the Minister's friend and believed by him to be dead, and Pizarro resolves to shield himself against the consequences of such a discovery by compassing his death. He publishes his resolution in a furious air, "Ha! welch' ein Augenblick!" in which he gloats over the culmination of his revenge upon his ancient enemy. It is a terrible outpouring of bloodthirsty rage, and I have yet to hear the singer who can cope with its awful accents. Here, surely, Beethoven asks more of the human voice than it is capable of giving. Quick action is necessary. The officer of the guard is ordered to post a trumpeter in the watch-tower, with instructions to give a signal the moment a carriage with outriders is seen approaching from Seville. Rocco is summoned, and Pizarro, praising his courage and fidelity to duty, gives him a purse as earnest of riches which are to follow obedience. The old man is ready enough until he learns that what is expected of him is

[Musical excerpt—"Morden!">[