A Second Book of Operas

In Short

This volume serves as a critical guide to a diverse selection of operas, ranging from Biblical dramas like Samson et Dalila to the then-modern scores of Strauss and Puccini. Rather than merely recounting plots, the text investigates the origins of librettos, the technical evolution of musical forms, and the cultural forces—from censorship to nationalist politics—that shaped these productions. It remains a valuable resource for its blend of historical context and candid, contemporary commentary on the triumphs and failures of the operatic stage in the early 1900s.

The Story

The narrative of this book is not a single plot, but the story of how opera as a medium has survived, transformed, and grappled with its own traditions. The journey begins with the early "sacred operas" of Italy, where composers used Biblical themes to satisfy the Lenten requirements of a pleasure-loving public. The author traces this lineage through the works of Handel, Rossini, and the later, more ambitious attempts by Anton Rubinstein to elevate the oratorio into a "Geistliche Oper." These works struggled against the limitations of stage machinery and the refusal of religious institutions to fully embrace theatricality.

The focus then shifts to the "Biblical opera" as a specific genre. The author examines the intense dramas of Saint-Saëns’s Samson et Dalila and Goldmark’s Die Königin von Saba, highlighting how these composers balanced Oriental spectacle with tragic, human stakes. We see how legends are mined for stage effect, sometimes with great success and sometimes with "trumpery theatricalism," as seen in the controversial Tote Augen, which the author critiques for its sensationalist, sacrilegious treatment of Christian miracles.

Moving into the realm of late 19th-century realism, the text dissects the mechanics of Pagliacci and Cavalleria Rusticana. These chapters pull back the curtain on the artifice of the "prologue," arguing that while such devices can feel like an impertinence to the audience's immersion, the underlying music succeeds in capturing the frantic, human pulse of the drama. The narrative also ventures into the exoticism of the era, particularly in the case of Madama Butterfly. The author traces the butterfly-like evolution of this story from Pierre Loti’s detached, clinical observations in Madame Chrysantheme to the emotional, high-stakes melodrama finally set to music by Puccini.

The final arc of the book concerns the shifting winds of modernism and national identity. The author discusses the rise of Moussorgsky and the French obsession with Russian music—a phenomenon he views with a skeptical eye, noting how political alliances often dictated artistic popularity. He concludes with an assessment of the "Straussian" era, noting that despite the brilliance of Der Rosenkavalier, the dense, complex orchestration and archaic libretto often obscured the very beauty the composer sought to convey. The book leaves the reader with the understanding that opera is a living, breathing entity, constantly reinventing itself through the collision of ancient stories and modern musical ambition.

How It Unfolds

The sacred origins The book begins by mapping the roots of operatic form in the sacra azione and miracle plays of Italy. It details how the distinction between the oratorio and the opera was often fluid, depending more on the season of the year than the nature of the music.

The Biblical epic The narrative progresses into the ambitious attempts by 19th-century composers to bring Old Testament majesty to the stage. It analyzes the specific challenges of staging grand, mythic narratives and the varying degrees of success achieved by Saint-Saëns and Rubinstein.

The realism of the street The focus shifts to the verismo movement, examining the raw, emotional power of Italian realism. The author breaks down the structural components of these operas, showing how they manipulate the audience’s sympathy through both plot and melodic leitmotif.

The exotic and the modern The final beats cover the late-century obsession with Eastern themes and the subsequent rise of new, complex musical styles. The author concludes by analyzing how these modern works, while technically masterful, often struggle to balance accessibility with their own dense, intellectual ambitions.

The People

The book presents a cast of characters who are less "people" in the narrative sense and more figures of artistic struggle. Anton Rubinstein stands out as a tragic visionary who, despite his immense ambition to create a new "sacred opera," finds his dreams thwarted by the lack of institutional support and the limitations of his own hybrid style. Saint-Saëns emerges as the disciplined, resourceful master who successfully navigates the long, arduous journey of bringing Samson et Dalila to the world stage, showing a resilience that contrasts with the failed efforts of his contemporaries.

Dalila is treated as a complex, shifting figure, defined by the varying interpretations of her character—from a "patriotic" woman to a "wily" deceiver—proving how malleable these figures are in the hands of different librettists. Puccini, through his adaptation of Madama Butterfly, is portrayed as a shrewd manipulator of the human heart, capable of turning the cold, clinical observations of a French novelist into a work of searing, emotional resonance. Finally, Mascagni is depicted as a man of humble, working-class origins whose sudden, explosive rise to fame serves as a testament to the unpredictable nature of operatic success, where a single hit can catapult an obscure baker’s son to international renown.

In Its Own Voice

"Rossini's 'Moses' was the last of the Italian operas (the last by a significant composer, at least) which used to be composed to ease the Lenten conscience in pleasure-loving Italy."

The author provides this context while discussing the historical origins of religious themes in operatic performance.

"The story is as false to nature as it is sacrilegious; its trumpery theatricalism is as great a hindrance to a possible return of Biblical opera as the disgusting celebration of necrophilism in Richard Strauss's 'Salome.'"

This sharp criticism appears during the author’s evaluation of the opera Tote Augen and its lack of artistic merit.

"If it followed the French story, as no doubt it did, it was too faithful to the actualities of Japanese life to awaken a throb of emotion in the Occidental heart."

This observation is offered when comparing the clinical nature of Loti’s original writing to the dramatic requirements of opera.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the tension between artifice and authenticity. The author is preoccupied with how composers translate ancient, mythic stories into the language of the modern theater. He interrogates the boundaries of the genre—asking where the line between "oratorio" and "opera" truly lies, and whether it is possible for a work to be both intellectually rigorous and emotionally overwhelming. Underlying these technical discussions is a larger question about the role of the audience: how much of our experience is shaped by the music itself, and how much is forced upon us by the expectations of the age, the politics of the era, and the manipulative power of the stage.

Why Read It Today

Readers who have a genuine fondness for opera history will find this volume deeply rewarding. It does not speak down to its audience; instead, it invites them into a private, well-informed conversation about the mechanics of the stage. You will feel as though you are sitting in a quiet, book-lined study, listening to a seasoned critic who knows every score and every scandal of the Metropolitan Opera.

However, be prepared for a certain "period" tone. The author writes with the confidence of an early 20th-century scholar, and his prose can be as ornate as the productions he describes. He does not hesitate to be blunt, and his dismissive attitude toward certain modern composers or his casual deployment of orientalist tropes reflects the conventions of his time. If you can move past these dated attitudes, you will find a wealth of sharp, precise observations that remain relevant. The book stays with you not because it provides a definitive "list" of great works, but because it teaches you how to look beneath the surface of a performance. It turns the passive listener into an active, critical observer, making it a perfect companion for anyone who believes that opera is more than just a beautiful tune—it is a complex, human endeavor.