Wait, who is Timotheus, and why is he crying "Revenge! Revenge!"? (Oh yes, plus a morceau of Fauré, and some other stuff at the end)

No, the image isn't Dryden's Timotheus, per se. It's a vase depiction (proffered by Wikipedia) of 'an' aulos player, as 'our' Timotheus, a musician who had Alexander the Great's ear, happens to have been. Close enough!

"Revenge, revenge! Revenge, Timotheus cries!"


Forbes Robinson (bs); Philip Ledger, cond. (rec. London, 1966)

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (b); Hans Stadlmair, cond. (rec. Munich, 1977)

Bryn Terfel (bs-b); Sir Charles Mackerras, cond. (rec. Edinburgh, 1997)

by Ken

You know how suddenly you realize a snatch of music is playing in your head, and at least at first you can't think why? At first, in fact, for a bit -- or longer than a bit if you've reached a certain age -- you may not be able to puzzle out what the heck the music is? And even then you may be mystified as to what the heck it's doing in your head? Except that it must surely be connected, somehow!, to something (or things) in your immediate reality?

For me the other day it was a snatch of the above excerpt, a snatch containing just the words "Revenge, Timotheus cries" (or, more likely, "cried" is how my head was remembering it), and I couldn't even shake any other words loose. Until I recollected that for a goodly stretch there aren't any other words.

As to what the heck the snatch was doing in my head, it seemed somehow a good bet that it had something to do with thoughts of, you know, revenge. You'd figure that the context of the snatch would provide vital clues. Having tracked down the source of the snatch, I wasn't overly optimistic, since Handel's Alexander's Feast isn't a piece I've ever thought about (or listened to) much. In fact, my acquaintance with the air generally known as "Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries" never had much to do with Handel's setting of Dryden's Alexander's Feast.

No, it was the number that popped out to me from the swell LP of Handel bass arias from which the Forbes Robinson performance comes -- a part of the substantial swelling of 1960s interest, following ground-laying pokings-at in the 1950s, in Handel's vast "beyond Messiah" catalog of dramatic works -- the oratorios as well as the operas, and a range of other large-scale vocal feasts, like Alexander's Feast, which is effectively "another" Ode for St. Cecilia's Day.

The Fischer-Dieskau recording, though from a later decade, reminds us that the 1960s produced not one but two fine stereo recordings of Handel's opera Julius Caesar, the earlier one notable for Beverly Sills's "breakthrough" role, Cleopatra, as well as Norman Treigle's Caesar; the later one featuring Fischer-Dieskau in the title role, partnered by Tatiana Troyanos. Whereas by Bryn Terfel's time, a mainstream opera singer recording a whole program of Handel arias seemed hardly a novelty.

Fischer-Dieskau's'60s recording life, by the way, was bracketed by Giulio Cesare -- not just finishing in April 1969 with the complete recording, in Munich, conducted by Karl Richter, but beginning in April 1960 with an LP's worth of "Arias and Scenes of Cleopatra and Caesar," partnered with Irmgard Seefried, in Berlin with that noted baroque stylist Karl Böhm.


OKAY, BUT WE STILL WANT TO HEAR THE CONTEXT OF
"REVENGE, REVENGE, TIMOTHEUS CRIES," DON'T WE?

Sure, we can do that. Why not?

Inaugural Edition, no. 6: Fornow, no explanations, just music (that's the theory, anyways): Two operatic chunks, by Debussy and Verdi, that have lodged in my head

Plus, we're going to wind up (think of it as a "bonus"
of sorts) with yet another stupendous operatic scene

[TUESDAY EVENING NOTE: Since initial posting, this piece has undergone variously significant updating scattered all through it, with possibly more to come -- if I get up the courage to wade into the thing.]

You'd think it'd be a snap to find a shot (no pun intended) of the Prison Scene from Don Carlos. Hah! In the spirit of last week's makeshift "Mélisande tower" (which I'm embarrassed to report we're going to be seeing again), I've wound up making do with, you know, "a prison."

VERDI: Don Carlos: Act IV [or III], Scene 2, Death of the Marquis of Posa ("Che parli tu di morte?" . . . "O Carlo, ascolta" . . . "Io morrò, ma lieto in core")

Recitative, "Che parli tu di morte?" -- and surprise!
DON CARLOS [trembling]: Why do you talk of death?
RODRIGO: Listen! Time grows short.
I have turned back onto me the terrible thunderbolt.
Today it's no longer you who are the rival of the king.
The bold agitator for Flanders -- it's I!
DON CARLOS: Who could possibly believe that?
RODRIGO: The proofs are tremendous!
Your papers, found in my possession,
are clear testaments to rebellion,
and on this head for certain
a price has already been set!
[Two men are now seen descending the prison staircase: One of them is dressed in the garb of the Holy Office; the other is armed with an arquebus. They stop for a moment and point out to one another DON CARLOS and RODRIGO, by whom they are unseen.]
DON CARLOS: I will reveal everything to the King!
RODRIGO: No, save yourself for Flanders!
save yourself for the great work that you will have to accomplish.
A new golden age you will cause to be reborn;
you were meant to reign, and I to die for you!
[The bearer of the arquebus now takes aim at RODRIGO and fires.]
DON CARLOS [stupefied]: Heavens! Death! but for whom?
RODRIGO [mortally wounded]: For me!
The vengeance of the king couldn't be delayed!
[Falls into the arms of DON CARLOS]
DON CARLOS: Great God!
Recitative, "O Carlo, ascolta"
RODRIGO: Oh Carlos, listen! Your mother, at San Yust,
tomorrow will expect you -- she knows everything.
Ah! the ground gives way beneath me --
my Carlos, give me your hand --
Aria, "Io morrò, ma lieto in core"
I die, but light of heart,
since I have thus been able to preserve
for Spain a savior.
Ah! do not forget me!
Do not forget me!
You were meant to rule,
and I to die for you!
Ah! I die, but light of heart,
since I have thus been able to preserve
for Spain a savior.
Ah! do not forget me!
Ah! the ground gives way beneath me!
Ah! do not forget me!
Give me your hand . . . give me . . .
Carlos, farewell! Ah! ah!
[RODRIGO dies. CARLOS falls, in despair, on his body.]

["O Carlo, ascolta" at 1:37; "Io morrò" at 2:39] Robert Merrill (b), Marquis of Posa; with Jussi Bjoerling (t), Don Carlos; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Fritz Stiedry, cond. Live performance, Nov. 11, 1950

["O Carlo, ascolta" at 1:29; "Io morrò" at 2:31] Robert Merrill (b), Marquis of Posa; with Giulio Gari (t), Don Carlos; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Fausto Cleva, cond. Live performance, Apr. 4, 1959

by Ken

I mean it: no talking. Or hardly any. Otherwise we'll never get anywhere. (If you read on, you may wonder at the application of this theory. You would be entirely within your rights. No refunds will be available, however. Meanwhile, I'm thinking that if I just go ahead and post this "as is," it'll be sufficiently embarrassing to force me to go back and at least fill in the more obvious gaps. I'm not confident that much can be done with the stuff between the gaps.)

Some other time I can explain how these particular scenes took up lodging in my brain. One of them, as I trust you've noticed, is the Prison Scene from Verdi's Don Carlos (the first scene of Act IV in the original five-act version; of Act III in the truncated four-act one), which I've heard pared down here to just the actual death of Rodrigo, the Marquis of Posa. We're going to be hearing a bunch more times in more proper context: with what precedes it in this scene . . . .


THAT IS, RIGHT AFTER WE HEAR OUR OTHER SCENE,
THE ONE WE BEGAN LISTENING TO LAST WEEK . . .