Respighi’s Sunken Bell - (La
Campana sommersa)
by Ian Lace
Respighi’s opera La
campana sommersa was one of his
most successful works. This essay traces
its origins, development and early performance
history.
Cover
of the vocal score of La campana sommersa
It is an interesting
work not the least because of its philosophical
ambiguities. On the surface it appears
to be a story of the conflict of orthodox
Christian faith with older, more pagan
beliefs as represented by the fairy
folk: Ondine, the water sprite, the
Faun (the spirit of the woods) and the
heroine, Rautendelein, the elf-girl..
Respighi confessed to having fallen
in love with the character of Rautendelein.
As his wife Elsa observed, in this opera,
he revealed his predilection for the
world of nature and fable. Respighi
Society President, Adriano, in this
article’s footnote, observes that Respighi
had "a complex personality, torn
between ascetic ideals, often reaching
the domain of pantheistic mysticism,
and the sensual realities of the world."
But first:–
The Story of La
campana sommersa
Act I. Opens
on a high mountain meadow.
Set for Act I of Respighi's
La campana sommersa
Rautendelein, a pretty
young elf-girl, is seated on the edge
of a well combing her long blonde hair.
Mischievously, she shouts down into
the well to awaken the old water-sprite,
Ondino, who tells her not to be so impertinent.
Rautendelein laughs at the cheerless
well-dweller and filled with the exuberance
of youth, dances about the meadow. A
faun enters and tries to induce the
elf-girl into the bushes for a frolic
but she mocks him and runs away. Ondino
asks the faun for news. The faun observes
that the humans are erecting a church
on the mountainside and that were it
not for his quick thinking a noisy bell
would already be hanging in the steeple.
The faun then boasts that it was he
who had wrecked the cart carrying the
bell up the steep slope injuring Enrico,
the caster of the bell, and sending
the bell plummeting over the edge of
the cliff to where it now rests in silence
- submerged at the bottom of the high
lake. Their conversation is interrupted
by the arrival of the badly injured
Enrico who collapses near the door of
a small hut. The faun dashes away into
the forest and Ondino dives down the
well at Enrico’s approach.
Rautendelein approaches
the injured man and takes pity on him
despite the admonitions of the old witch
(her grandmother) who lives in the hut.
The witch tells her that it is the fate
of all humans to die, a merciful deliverance
from their suffering. A pastor, a schoolmaster
and a barber – all friends of Enrico
– come looking for the bell-caster.
Seeing their approach Rautendelein traces
a magic circle of protection and possession
around Enrico. The men find Enrico and
place him on a makeshift stretcher and
bear him away. Rautendelein is saddened
for she has come to like the handsome
young man. Night falls and some elves
appear and begin dancing in the moonlight.
Rautendelein joins them for a little
while but soon loses interest. Sorrowfully,
she sits on the edge of the well, thinking
of Enrico and the world of the humans.
Ondino resurfaces and tries to cheer
her up but despite his warning she runs
away "to the land where humans
dwell."
Act II is set
in Enrico’s house. Magda, his wife,
is preparing breakfast anxiously awaiting
his return. The pastor, schoolmaster
and barber carry the injured man and
lay him on the bed. Magda dismisses
everyone to be alone with her husband.
Enrico tells her that he is dying. Magda,
distraught, tries to ease his pain and
tells him this is not true but the bell-caster
is adamant that only a miraculous flower
that grows on the mountain can save
him. The pastor returns with a young
girl, who is to help Magda take care
of Enrico. The pastor also tells Magda
about Mistress Clover, a devout widow,
who knows the secrets of healing herbs.
Magda decides to see the old woman and
leaves hurriedly. After some words of
instruction to the girl the pastor also
leaves. No sooner is she alone with
Enrico than the girl reveals herself
as Rautendelein. With magic spells and
kisses, she restores Enrico to health.
She asks him to join her on the mountain
where, with his regained strength and
new inspiration, he will create a miraculous
bell, one which the mortal world has
never heard before. Enrico is about
to follow the elf-girl away when Magda
returns. Astonished at his incredible
recovery, she throws herself into his
arms and kisses him. Rautendelein stands
on one side, motionless, devastated.
Act III. An
isolated hut high up in the mountains.
Enrico has deserted Magda and is now
living with Rautendelein and working
on his miraculous bell. He has forced
Ondino, the faun and some dwarves into
labouring for him. The pastor appears
and urges Enrico to return to his family
which is now destitute without him.
When Enrico tries to explain his glorious
ambition to raise a temple to the Saviour
who has been redeemed by the sun, and
to found a new cult which will bring
peace, generosity and love to the world,
the pastor is appalled at Enrico’s heresy
and curses the bell-caster’s vision.
In anger, Enrico answers, "Sooner
will my sunken bell sound in the depths
of the lake than I will change my course!"
The pastor leaves. Enrico takes Rautendelein
into his arms and kisses her passionately.
Suddenly cries are heard. A crowd of
people has climbed the mountain bent
on destroying the bell-caster and his
work. Enrico runs out to engage his
enemies and returns victorious. As he
embraces Rautendelein once more, the
ghosts of his two children appear, a
large jar in their hands. They tell
Enrico that the jar contains the bitter
tears of their mother who, in despair,
has drowned herself in the lake. A bell
is heard tolling in the distance as
if from the depths. The two ghost children
vanish. Enrico insane with grief and
filled with revulsion over what his
actions have caused, curses Rautendelein
and dashes out into the darkness.
Act IV. The
mountain meadow; as in the first act.
Deserted by Enrico, Rautendelein has
married Ondino and now lives in the
well. The bell-caster enters searching
for the elf-girl. He has lost everything:
his wife, his children, Rautendelein,
his dreams. All he seeks now is death.
The witch tells him that he will soon
die, for, "When one with all his
strength has tried to fly towards the
light, and failed, he must surely die."
The witch grants Enrico one last wish
before dying - to see Rautendelein again.
The elf-girl emerges from the well and
reproaches Enrico for abandoning her
and driving her into the well. Enrico
weeps over what he has done. As he dies,
Rautendelein forgives him and kisses
him tenderly. The sound of marvellous
bells is heard in the heavens.
The development
of the opera
The first that we learn
of Respighi working on La Campana
sommersa is at the end of July 1925
at L’Abetone where his wife Elsa was
recovering from an attack of colitis
(a malady that quite frequently disturbed
her). In her biography of her husband,
Ottorino Respighi Elsa
remarks, ‘…At the modest and rather
primitive Chiarofonte hotel, Respighi
had a large table put in his room and
at once set to work on the score of
the Concerto misolidio. In the
afternoons we went for a stroll in the
woods, where he often talked about La
Campana sommersa or made notes.
This was a period of unruffled calm
and we both savoured a great zest for
living.’ The Respighis returned to the
Chiarofonte hotel the next summer, 1926,
and Respighi ‘went on orchestrating
his Campana sommersa.’ And in
her other book, From Fifty Years
of A Life in Music, Elsa adds, ‘For
two years, going through moments of
joyous exaltation and desperate crises,
Respighi worked on La campana sommersa.’
Respighi’s love
of Rautendelein
For the opera’s premiere
in Hamburg on November 18, 1927, Respighi,
at the request of the publisher, Bock,
wrote a brief essay, entitled A Meeting
with Rautendelein about the origin
and intention of the opera. It began
thus:-
‘My first meeting with
Rautendelein was not as one might expect;
it did not take place in the hall of
a theatre, nor in a bookseller’s shop,
nor in a friend’s library. A refined
lady brought Rautendelein to my house,
saying, "You also will love this
little fairy and the beautiful dream
in which she lives." Like Rautendelein,
my young friend was born in the regions
of the north and had a subtle intuition.
Every thing in Gerhart Hauptmann’s admirable
fairy-drama seemed musical to me – in
each scene, in each character whether
real; or unreal, in that strange mixture
of humanity and fable, I felt music
take wing. From the first words that
described the scene: "An upland
meadow enclosed by sonorous fir trees…"
Do you hear them? There is music already!
I must have been very much in love with
Rautendelein if, for ten years, thoughts
of that nebulous elf never left my mind.
And now, ten years later, I continue
to love her. One day I confided my love
to Guastalla. Claudio Guastalla had
already written a beautiful libretto
for me, Belfagor, and he has
written others since La campana sommersa
... At his first reading of Hauptmann’s
poem, Guastalla remained doubtful. Very
few Italians were acquainted with the
poem, and Guastalla did not know it
at all. Some obscure aspects of the
poem and all the symbolism surrounding
it seemed a formidable obstacle. We
did not speak about it for a few months
but one fine day I noticed that he,
too, had fallen in love with Rautendelein.
At first I had thought to write music
for a text in the German language, and
my collaborator had patiently set himself
to reducing and cutting without changing
the words. For reasons of literary propriety,
I decided on a libretto in Italian verse.
It certainly was a fortunate decision,
because perhaps using a language different
to mine would have obstructed my musical
inspiration. But the Italian text always
remained as faithful as possible to
the poem of the great German dramatist.
In this endeavour, Guastalla’s devoted
love and intelligent attention were
not the least of his meritorious qualities.
He had begun working on this project
with admirable energy in the summer
of 1924 while he was vacationing in
the mountains of Tuscany and I at the
seaside, at the Strait of Messina. With
the announcement that all of the publishing
difficulties had been overcome, my friend
expressed his enthusiasm in a telegram
with these words: "Quorax, quorax,
quorax, brekekekex!" (in the language
of Ondino). Fortunately in Italy there
was no longer censorship; otherwise
that mysterious message would have caused
the poor censor serious embarrassment.’
Discussion about
Hauptmann’s original poem
Elsa remarks, ‘There
has been a great deal of discussion
about whether Hauptmann’s poem was a
good choice as the subject for an opera.
The fact remains that, from both the
fanciful and human elements of the fairy-drama,
Respighi drew inspiration for some of
the most beautiful music he ever wrote.
In Nebbie, in Le fontane di
Roma, in Deità silvane,
and in the little poems, Aretusa
and La sensitiva, Respighi clearly
revealed his predilection for the world
of nature and fable. The characters
Ondino (the spirit of the waters), Fauno
(the spirit of the woods) and the very
beautiful elf Rautendelein, who becomes
a woman for love – none could fail to
find perfect resonance in Respighi’s
music. Also the human character, Enrico,
an artist with fearless and unattainable
ambitions, and his companion, Magda,
a sweet human figure of a woman who
seeks in vain to understand her husband’s
delirious obsession – both find their
profound expression in Respighi’s art.
Rarely did Respighi reach such dramatic
power as he did in the music accompanying
the appearance of Enrico’s children,
carrying their mother’s tears in a cup
while from the depths of the lake, emerge
the strong, hollow tragic peals of the
bell as Magda’s body grazes it in her
fall.’ [See also the footnote to this
article]
The Hamburg and
New York premières
In October 1927 the
Hamburg rehearsals for La campana
sommersa were not going well so
the premiere was postponed several times
before it finally was staged on November
18. The most important critics from
Berlin were present and so too was Gerhart
Hauptmann. Elsa remembered, ‘Hauptmann
had a magnificent head and resembled
Goethe. To see him next to Respighi
who resembled Beethoven so much, had
a certain effect. According to Elsa,
‘the Hamburg premiere was a good performance
and the work voted a success’. .
The New York premiere
of the opera, at the Metropolitan was
on November 25, 1928. Writing to Guastalla,
Elsa noted, ‘Here’s the way it was.
Fifty-three call-backs. The number will
tell you better than any description
of the degree of success! There was
a theatre so crowded it was scary, and
many people had to be turned away for
lack of space. Even from the dress rehearsal,
success could be predicted. Just think,
Guastalla, that Ottorino was unable
to make even the smallest criticism.
Everything was perfect to that degree.
Serafin was an unsurpassable performer.
Perfect were the tempos, the colouration
of the orchestra, the pauses - in sum
I tell you unsurpassable. Elisabeth
Rethberg possesses a heavenly voice,
and the role of Rautendelein seems to
have been written for her. A delight!
Martinelli, everyone says, went beyond
himself. It seems that in no other opera
has he shown himself to be so complete
a performer. At the end of the third
act –I can’t tell you what happened!
Even Gatti-Casazza was crying! De Luca
made a true creation of the role of
Ondino. Marvellous. What a great thing
this opera is, dear friend! Pity you
were not here last night. Nevermore
will a similar performance be achieved.’
Another Metropolitan
performance several days later, on November
29, of La campana was recalled
vividly by Ella because ‘... Respighi
was taking his last bow before an applauding
audience at 10:20 after the performance
of the Toccata; and at 10:45,
thanks to the subway that made a two-minute
connection between Carnegie Hall and
the Metropolitan possible, he was on
stage to thank the audience of the Metropolitan
after the second act of La campana.
Only in America!’
Respighi’s stage
directions
Some time before the
rehearsals for the Milan premiere of
La campana (1929), Respighi sent
a letter to the director of La Scala,
Scandiani, in which he gave stage directions.
Respighi wrote:-
‘Act I. It is necessary
as soon as the curtain opens that the
audience immediately has the impression
of a world that is pure fantasy. The
stylised trees serve to give a visual
sensation of this unreality. It is necessary
to remember that, at the beginning of
the act, the light must be that of a
sun-filled afternoon with warm tones,
and that toward the end, the whole moonlit
scene must be diffused silver. (Set
the lights at "Silver Level.")
The trunks of the birch trees must themselves
have silvery reflections. A number of
the trees must be built so that the
elves can move around them during the
dances.
‘Act II. This is the
only act that takes place in the world
of reality. It seems to me that the
Italian artists who build the scenery
can bear in mind the sketch by the Hamburg
painter Daniel, who fortunately drew
the German hut of Enrico.
‘Act III. I beg the
set designer to read the stage directions
in the libretto attentively. I am very
happy with some aspects of the stage
we used in Hamburg. (I sent you the
photographs.) But the stage directions
allow for an even more fanciful set
with parts of the construction leaning
on the live rock.
‘Act IV must create
the unreal impression of the first act.'
Productions in Milan,
Rome and Buenos Aires
The staging of La
campana at La Scala in Milan was
closely followed by another at the Teatro
Reale, Rome both with ‘unqualified success’.
Then in August 1929 the opera was produced
in Buenos Aires. Again Elsa enthuses,
‘... a triumph! A complete triumph!
Public, press, musicians, were all taken
with La Campana and the Colon
had not seen such a huge success for
ten years.’ After describing the numerous
between-act curtain calls, Elsa goes
on to say ‘ ... and when Ottorino came
out alone the audience went mad ...
I cannot describe my excitement during
the performance or my joy afterwards.
Ottorino, as Olympian as ever, conducted
magnificently and the whole opera went
without a hitch. Nobody believed that
it was Respighi’s first experience of
conducting opera. It was really astonishing.
The critics unanimously voted it the
best Italian opera of recent years and
unreservedly praised both the music
and the libretto.’
Bologna – Respighi’s
humanity
Elsa goes on to cover
performances, in November 1929, in Respighi’s
home town of Bologna She recalls that
Respighi enjoyed meeting so many of
his old school companions on that occasion
but was disappointed to find that his
old home was occupied by strangers and
that ‘he felt a deep sadness for his
adored mother no longer there to hear
her Ottorino’s music, see his success
and share his happiness. The orchestra
leader was one of Respighi’s old teachers,
who made heavy weather of the solo passages
and whose intonation was often faulty
so that one of the management advised
the Maestro to have the elderly violinist
replaced. To which Respighi replied,
"Rather than hurt my old teacher,
I prefer to withdraw my opera."’
Antwerp
Finally we hear about
another performance of La campana
sommersa given in Flemish, at the
Antwerp Opera House, in March 1931.
During that week (7-19 March) there
was a Respighi Festival in Belgium including
orchestral and chamber concerts at Ghent,
Brussels, Liège as well as the
staging of the opera in Antwerp. In
a note that had presentiments of the
illnesses that were to blight Respighi’s
final years, Elsa recalls that Respighi
had been engaged to conduct at one of
the concerts - ‘Respighi had a severe
attack of influenza, but so as not to
embarrass our concert-organisers (the
hall was sold out) he insisted on conducting
with a high temperature. Weakened by
the drugs he had been taking all day
he still managed to mount the rostrum
that evening but when I saw how deathly
pale he was I was terrified that he
would collapse on the spot. Fortunately
all went well and his rashness did not
have the grave consequences I feared.
Doctor Sluys treated him for several
days and advised me to have his heart
examined as soon as we got back to Rome.
Once there, I spoke to Wachmann who
assured me that it was merely a heart-murmur
which the Maestro had had from his young
days as a result of rheumatic fever.’
Footnote – Respighi’s
complex inner personality and beliefs
* In this context,
the conductor and Respighi scholar,
Adriano, writing the booklet notes for
the Marco Polo recording of Respighi’s
La Primavera (8.223595)
makes this interesting remark about
the composer, "La Primavera
belongs to Respighi’s autobiographical
or key group of works consisting of
operas [including La campana sommersa]
cantatas, and songs that give some insight
into a complex personality, torn between
ascetic ideals, often reaching the domain
of pantheistic mysticism, and the sensual
realities of the world. Music certainly
helped him to find his mental and physical
equilibrium. Very little is known, however,
about the composer’s apparently complex
inner world, which was often a mystery
even to his wife, his ex-pupil Elsa,
fifteen years his junior. The poetry
he chose to set to music suggests a
confrontation with ideologies of life
ranging from a desire of integration
with nature (Shelley - [Aretusa
(1911) Il Tramonto (1914) and
La Sensitiva (1915)] ), to an
enraptured and mystical search for the
Creator. A fatalistic refusal of social
integration and a desire to escape into
a cosmic world (La campana sommersa)
leads finally to a submission of the
daemonic forces of the supernatural
(La fiamma) or to those of brutal
human violence (Lucrezia).
Ian Lace
see also CD
review
