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On this 100th
anniversary of the onset of the Great War, we pick up where we left off in our
post of November 8, The Met in World War
I, 1.
From 1914 to
1917, the Met programmed its seasons much as it had in preceding years. As late
as October 16, 1917, six months after the performance of The Canterbury Pilgrims disrupted by the news that Congress had declared
war against Germany (see our previous post), Olive Fremstad, one of the Met’s two
leading Wagner sopranos (the other was Johanna Gadski), had signed on to rejoin
the company after a three-year absence. A week before opening night and only
nine days before she was scheduled to sing Isolde, Fremstad was informed that
all opera in German was cancelled for the season and so, therefore, was her
engagement. Tristan und Isolde turned
into Boris Godunov. In all, general
manager Gatti-Casazza replaced more than forty scheduled German performances,
nearly one-third of the season’s calendar. The action was taken, according to
the official explanation, "lest Germany should make capital of
their [operas in German] continued appearance to convince the German people
that this nation was not heart and soul in the war." Though no one could have guessed it at the time, the last performance in
German from the Met stage for the duration and beyond had taken place on April
13, 1917.
The press
was essentially unanimous in opposing the management’s edict. A Tribune headline read, “German Opera is
Still Welcome at the Metropolitan” (Sept. 23, 1917). The Sun was confident that
the public did not “think of Bach, Beethoven, Brahms and Wagner as exclusively
representing the Teutonic people.” The Mail
declared, “Art knows no frontiers.” A ban on German opera would, for the Times, be tantamount to “excluding the
great classics of German literature from the public libraries.” Signed
contracts and the views of influential music critics notwithstanding, in a charged
climate the board bowed to war hysteria, voting to exile the German language
from its auditorium, and leading Wagner specialists from its roster.
Subscribers
who objected and demanded refunds were refused on the grounds that the company
had “made no definite promise as to the complete and precise repertoire of its
present season.” In a letter from management, they were further told that “the
decision of the Board of Directors to withdraw opera sung in the German
language was dictated not only by a sense of patriotic duty but also by a
desire to safeguard the interests of our patrons and to prevent possible
disorder.” The German-language repertoire tentatively announced (it was common
practice to float many more titles than would be mounted) for 1917-18--Fidelio, Lohengrin, Tannhäuser, Tristan und Isolde, Meistersinger, Parsifal, Rheingold, Walküre, Siegfried, Götterdämmerung—was scratched. To
compensate for the ban on German (the number of performances in German in
1916-17 was forty-six), performances in Italian rose from eighty-eight to 122,
and in French from thirty-three to forty-eight.
The premieres represented Entente Powers Italy, France, Russia, and
the United States: Mascagni’s Lodoletta,
Henri Rabaud’s comic Mârouf, Nikolai
Rimsky-Korsakov’s Le Coq d’or, and The Robin Woman: Shanewis by Charles
Wakefield Cadman, a specialist in Native-American music.
The
Armistice coincided with opening night, November 11, 1918; the company
celebrated offstage and on-. In the afternoon, a procession to Times Square and
back of Met administrators, Gatti included, instrumentalists, and singers
followed a “dummy” Siegfried, hung in effigy from a gibet and helmeted to
resemble Kaiser Wilhelm. Between acts of the evening’s opera, Samson et Dalila, the national anthems
of the Allies rang through the house, the “Star Spangled Banner” capped by
Caruso’s high B flat.
In 1919-20, the gradual reintegration of
Wagner began with Parsifal, but only
in English; in 1920-21, Lohengrin and
Tristan were on the program, again in
English; all did well at the box office. In 1921, when the ban was lifted,
Italian maintained its plurality although performances in German increased
gradually through the decade. In the mid-1930s, with the advent of Kirsten Flagstad,
German again claimed its pre-war season share of approximately thirty percent.
The world’s great singers gave their thrilling
voices to the war effort. In his heavily-accented English, Caruso made a fervent
recording of George M. Cohan’s 1917 rousing “Over There.” It ends with “Par
là-bas,” the French version of Cohan’s recruitment anthem.
Just four days after the Armistice, Connecticut-born
Rosa Ponselle made her Met debut opposite Caruso in the company’s first La Forza del destino. In that 1918-19
season, shorn of operas in German, she was conscripted to head the casts of two
English-language works enlisted to take up the slack: Carl Maria von Weber’s Oberon, presented in its original
English text, and the world premiere of an American opera, Joseph Carl Breil’s The Legend. Here she sings Ivor Novello’s
1914 “Keep the Home Fires Burning.”
John McCormack, who was never on the Met roster, sang on
its stage with the Chicago-Philadelphia Opera Company. He lends his sweet
timbre, refined style, and exemplary diction to Jack Judge’s “It’s a Long Way
to Tipperary,” composed in 1912 and taken up by British soldiers when the war
broke out.
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