O Tempora, O Laetitiam Maximam: Finalmente, I Lituani!!

[Poster advertising a 19th century production; all images from Wikipedia]

If you know La Gioconda well (and everyone should!—I am right about this), you will know the moment you hear I Lituani that Amilcare Ponchielli has written this opera too. There are all sorts of touches that identify the compositional fingerprints as none other than our own Amilcare’s. There is use of high woodwinds in rapid jagged figurations in thirds, for example. And on two occasions, he employs a particular chord progression that only he (and Mascagni, later, in Cav-- in my experience, at any rate) uses and which he uses to heighten the emotional tenor of a scene. Other composers will do something similar and the lead up to the chord will be the same. But the resultant chord, which dear reader your ear is expecting, is the one you get from other composers. From Ponchielli, you get this other chord and the effect is fresh and also the strongest sort of authorial fingerprint. You feel the emotional tide shift violently and so the plot is dramatized most effectively at the level of your emotional reaction cued by the music while you go all “meta” at the same time, seeing the composer’s hand, as it were, underlining the note and signing his masterpiece. It is so delicious and it is one of the many reasons I love Ponchielli. He makes use of this progression in La Gioconda and, as I have said, twice in I Lituani. (I could try to find these momnents, as I noted them in Greece while I was listening to the piece a lot. But I am not going to find them now. Is this bad service? Do you want to call the manager on my ass? Maybe you will be mollified by two sound clips below? I certainly hope so.)

I Lituani is a nationalistic opera a la William Tell or one of Verdi’s galley pieces (La Battaglia springs to mind). It concludes with a chorus which recalls the final chorus of the William Tell come to think of it. It is all about the struggle of the Lithuanians against the Germans in the later middle ages. This opera not surprisingly has been taken to heart by Lithuanians and it was put on in Chicago in the 90s where there is a sizable Lithuanian population. Here is the poster for that production:



The opera is in a prologue and three acts.

In a nutshell here is the plot:

Corrado Wallenrod, actually a Lithuanian named Walter who is impersonating a loyal Teutonic Knight, allows the Lithuanians to win against the Teutons by executing a long-planned misdirection. Aldona, his wife who has entered a convent, searches for her love Walter, and finds him right before he is sentenced to death for his deception.

In more detail, here is the plot (thanks to Wikipedia):

Prologue:
From the battlements of a castle in Lithuania, Albano--an old bard--moans that his country is being destroyed by the Teutons. Aldona, a Lithuanian princess, wonders about her brother, Arnoldo, and Walter, her husband, and invites everyone to pray. Arnoldo and Walter return and announce a heinous betrayal by Vitoldo, one of their leaders, which has led to the defeat of the Lithuanian army. Walter tells his wife about using his German education to defeat the Teutonic Knights, and swears his eternal love for her before leaving to avenge the Lithuanians.

[Here is a wonderful moment from the prologue. The melody here is the melody that starts the opera.]

[[One wants to take Ponchielli aside, “Ascolta [listen up], Amilcare---what is it with all the names beginning with “A.” Oh wait, I think I just answered my own question, "A"milcare. But all the same, As Ah was Assertin’ as to Aldona, Arnaldo, and Albano, I mean Verdi would never do this, put in so many names starting with "A," of course, take Aida, for example, there’s Aida, Amneris, Amonas… oh... never mind.]]

Act I
Ten years later, in the cathedral square of Marienburg, the Teutonic Knights celebrate the new Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Corrado Wallenrod, who is actually Walter. Vitoldo is furious, because he believes he should be Grand Master. Ten Lithuanian prisoners in chains are brought to be sacrificed in Corrado's honor at the celebration; Arnoldo is one of them. Corrado unexpectedly frees them, and afterwards Arnoldo realizes that Corrado is actually Walter. Arnoldo runs into his sister, Aldonda, who has come to Marienburg after entering a convent, hoping to find Walter. Albano, Arnoldo, and Aldona set out to find Walter in the castle.

Act II
In a large hall of the castle where the celebration is being held, Corrado invites everyone to dance and to sing. Arnoldo and Aldona, disguised as bards, sing a song about the sad fate of Lithuania, which also predicts its imminent liberation. The Teutonic Knights object, and Corrado hurls himself towards Arnoldo, while Aldona tries to separate them. Corrado orders the knights to sheath their swords, and Albano tries to convince Corrado not to give his true identity away. Vitoldo recognizes Aldona, but Corrado orders the judgement against Aldona and Arnoldo be adjourned so that the celebration can continue.

Act III
Aldona comes out of the ruins of a cloister, where a battle between the Lithuanians and Teutonic Knights is taking place nearby. She meets Walter, and hopes for a happy future of love, but Walter has been betrayed for causing the defeat of the Teutonic Knights by the Lithuanians. Later, back in the castle, Albano tells Walter that a secret court has sentenced Walter to death. Rather than falling into enemy hands, Walter drinks some poison and exalts the victory of the Lithuanians, and asks Albano to give Aldona his last farewell. Aldona arrives, and Walter dies in her arms. The Willi, divine spirits of Lithuania, arrive to welcome the glorious warrior's soul.

[Hooray for heroic self-sacrificing manhood! Give it all up for Lithuania!!]

As far as the performance goes, Gavazzeni conducts so wonderfully. He is always so good. He also has a good band to work with (check out the care with which the lower strings play their intricate and rapid figurations on CD1 track 2. Gav asked for tight careful work and the orchestra is able to deliver). Ottavio Garaventa is a little crude, but he has a manly glamour in his voice and I like him even if I want just a bit more finesse at times. (You will have heard him foregrounded in the clip above.) The other performances are well-done. Yasuko Hayashi has a nice lyric soprano that has some spinto in it. She's good and to be found on many a pirate. I have liked her in the past, I like her even more now. The ensembles make their points and the passion in this piece is brought out well in an alert and all in all quite satisfying performance.

The prelude is very nice, starting off interestingly with a sort of passionate moderato. The melody I refer to here is the same as the one in the clip up above. This prelude is as nice a thing as the prelude to La Gioconda, and that is saying something.

To conclude, here a delightful bit of music (from Act 2) that is well so so so Ponchielli (and, kids, that is reason enough to go to the opera). Here it is. I have played this one a bunch of times; it is the kind of music that puts a smile on my face and I am altogether pleased that I am AT THE OPERA.


[A page from the autograph score of I Lituani]