Baltimore Opera Company

Study Guide

Maria Stuarda

Off With Her Head – Famous Operatic Beheadings

“Off with her head!” Thus speaks the imperious Queen of Hearts in Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” Although Lewis Carroll does not give any indication that musical accompaniment of any kind accompanies this fiat, such a precipitous and “heady” act could surely be given vivid musical description. The world of opera does contain numerous operas that contain a dénouement of sorts featuring this gruesome act.

Perhaps the most famous musical “beheading” of them all occurs not in opera, but in a symphonic tone poem, Hector Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique premiered in 1830 in Paris. Berlioz conjured up a semi-autobiographical tale of a young musician smitten by love, and the fourth movement “The March to the Scaffold” is perhaps the most dramatic programmatic music in the work. Convinced that his love is unrequited, the young musician has a vision that he has killed his beloved and is being led to his execution. He is indeed beheaded, and the pizzicato notes following (indicating the head falling down the steps) are chilling!

Most operatic beheadings are centered around three periods where such a death was common – Antiquity (where the act was committed primarily by sword or axe); the period of the 15th and 16th century; and the French Revolution of the 18th century (where executions were accomplished by the presumably more humane guillotine).

The biblical tale of Salome and John the Baptist is given lyric utterance by Jules Massenet in an opulent Art-Nouveau-esque manner and by Richard Strauss in one of the most gripping psycho-sexual bloodbaths ever heard.

The Massenet work centers around a truly vicious Herodias and a totally apocryphal story line concerning Salome and her love for John. Salome is truly infatuated with the prophet, and Herod, who lusts for Salome, believes that John is his rival for the young girl’s affection. Salome visits John in prison and is so seductive that John believes that heaven will bless their love. When Herod hears of this, that and the fact that Herodias keeps calling for John’s death makes him condemn the itinerant locust-eater to being beheaded. There is no dance of the Seven Veils in this opera, undoubtedly to the relief of the artiste singing Salome, but a languorous oriental dance is danced by the more terpsichorean-friendly danseuses in the ballet. John is beheaded offstage, and when his death is announced to the populace, Salome instantly blames her mother for the act and then commits suicide in despair.

The Strauss version is better known, not only for the truly inspired music but also for the text, which is a literal translation of the Oscar Wilde play. This version more closely adheres to the Biblical version found in the Gospel of Mark, 6th chapter, and includes the famous Dance of the Seven Veils, well known in the Concert Hall as well. The beheading of John occurs in the celebrated final scene, with the executioner being given an actual name – Naaman – and almost always being of significant musculature and machismo. Naaman descends into the cistern, and Salome listens intently, waiting for a sound. After a period of horrific near-silence we hear a brutal descending scale from the low strings, and Salome utters the somewhat redundant line – “Etwas ist zum Boden gefallen”- “Something has fallen to the ground” – undoubtedly the severed head of the prophet. Then the head is brought to Salome on a silver platter and we are captive witness to her fervid insanity for the next 10 minutes until she herself is crushed to death by the guards.

One of the few operas in which the beheading does not place at the very end of the opera is Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot, also taking place in fabled Antiquity. Turandot, the Asian version of Italian operatic gelato, is sought after by many but is unreachable; any man wanting her has to solve three enigmas, and any man unable to do so is separated not only from a relationship with Turandot but also his head. In the opening scene the latest Lothario is the Prince of Persia, and after calling out her name is beheaded, sometimes in full view of the audience, but always to the bloodthirsty cackles of the chorus.

Tenors lose their heads over sopranos all the time, and this time it involves a tale from the 15th century. In Giuseppe Verdi’s Il Trovatore we have one of the most improbably plots of all time coupled with music that makes you think the story line is Shakespearean. The final scene is pure Grand Opera – the villainous baritone is about to have his way with the unfortunate diva who is of course in love with the tenor. However, she has taken poison which really infuriates the baritone and makes him condemn the tenor to death on the scaffold. As the tenor is being led away, he calls out to his mother, who has been asleep in a stupor throughout the entire preceding scene. The baritone then grabs the tenor’s mother and forces her to watch the beheading (thankfully off-stage). She then tells him that the tenor was actually his brother. Only in Grand Opera!

Most operas centering on Elizabethan themes have a significant “head count” by the end. Those perilous times, although seemingly grounded in religious faith and devotion, seemed also to teem with intrigue, both political and romantic, and we have numerous instances of the violation of the Sixth Commandment seemingly in the guise of religious imperative. Donizetti’s three Queens, Maria Stuarda, Anna Bolena, and Elizabeth I (the “real” title character of Roberto Devereux) all end with a beheading, although no doubt due to the delicate sensibilities of the Italian audiences of the 1830’s, all such gruesome acts occur well offstage.

Although all of these characters are of extraordinary interest, the one character from whom all the intrigue flows is Henry VIII, the King of England whose break with the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church over his marriage to Catherine of Aragon changed the course of Western history. Maria Stuarda (Mary Stuart) is Henry’s daughter by Catherine of Aragon. A devout Roman Catholic like her mother, she is accused of intrigue against her regnant half-sister, Elizabeth and because of such is beheaded. The final scene of the opera illustratres Maria’s last moments prior to her execution. In the beautiful cavatina “Di un cor che muore” she nobly prays that God will forgive Elizabeth for her crimes against her, leading to an imposing concertato featuring the chorus where all those near her weep for her untimely death. The opera ends in a blaze of D major as she ascends the scaffold. Perhaps it is fortunate that we do not get to see the actual beheading of Mary Stuart. It is said that the act took three blows to accomplish, and that she was alive and conscious after the first two. Additionally the head was supposed to have spoken after it was severed, and another story tells that she was wearing a wig; when the executioner pulled the head up by the hair to show the populace, the head fell down and rolled down the steps. Perhaps most tragic story of all for animal lovers, Mary was said to have had a small dog, which was hidden in her dress as she went to the scaffold. After the beheading, the little dog is said to have rushed, blood-soaked and terrified, from the scene. Mary’s ladies-in-waiting rescued and washed the little dog, but the dog is said to have died from the shock.

Anna Bolena is of course the story of Anne Boleyn, who won the heart of Henry VIII after he tired of Catherine of Aragon. This is the one opera of the Queens triptych in which the monarch actually appears, and quite appropriately is sung by a bass. In this opera Anne has lost favor with the King who is now interested in Giovanna (Jane) Seymour. Through a series of unfortunate events the King believes Anne to be guilty of adultery, abetted in her crime by three friends, the page Smeton, Lord Rochefort (her brother), and Lord Percy (the tenor and consequently her love interest). The final scene takes place in the Tower of London and contains the de rigueur “Mad Scene” as Anne contemplates the sad turn her life has taken. In a dramatic coup de théâtre the populace is heard outside the Tower walls acclaiming the marriage of Henry VIII and Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn and her three presumed abettors are sent to the scaffold.

Roberto Devereux occurs one generation later. Elizabeth 1, daughter of Henry VIII and the importunate Anne Boleyn is on the throne and in love with Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex. Unfortunately he is in love with Elizabeth’s confidante and Lady-in-Waiting, Sara. To further complicate matters Sara has been promised in marriage to Robert’s best friend, the Duke of Nottingham. While in Ireland Robert has disgraced himself with an ill-advised diplomatic decision and stands accused of treason. However, Elizabeth receives Robert and offers him her protection, but learns that he loves another, whose identity is not revealed. The furious Elizabeth then forsakes him, and will not support him at his trial where he is ultimately condemned him to death. One last time she tells him she will pardon him if he will reveal the identity of the one he loves, but he will not betray Sara. However, when Sara herself betrays herself to Elizabeth, Elizabeth, not knowing what to do, orders the execution suspended, but it is too late – a cannon shot signals his beheading.

Another period in history when many heads rolled was the French Revolution, a time ripe for operatic musical expression. Umberto Giordano’s Andrea Chénier is based (like so many others of these operas) on historical events and actual characters, but takes tremendous poetic license with verisimilitude along the way! In one of the grandest and most beloved of verismo operas, the poet Andrea Chénier falls in love with the altruistic aristocrat, Maddalena di Coigny, and amid the chaos as Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité are being defined and ordered, the two find destruction and redemption. The final scene finds Chénier condemned to the guillotine, however, Maddalena, wishing to die with him, has taken on the identity of a condemned woman, Idia LeGray. They sing of the victory of Love, and as their names are called they walk triumphantly to the guillotine amid a blaze of orchestral glory and grandeur.

A very recent opera to explore this era is John Corigliano’s The Ghosts of Versailles, premiered at the Metropolitan Opera in 1991. Set in the afterlife existence of the Court of Louis XVI, the ghost of Marie Antoinette is upset about having been beheaded; one would presume the rest of the cast feels similarly even if the thought is not expressed. The ghost of the playwright Beaumarchais feels sorry for Marie and decides to write a play that will change her fate. Through machinations suggested by the real Beaumarchais’ play “La Mère Coupable”, Marie and her beloved Almaviva escape and go to America. Marie decides that she doesn’t want to change her fate, and would rather be united in Paradise with Almaviva. She is then executed and, Flying Dutchman-like, she and Almaviva are united in heaven.

Perhaps the ultimate and truly visceral depiction of beheading on a truly “Mass” (capitalization intentional) level is Francis Poulenc’s The Dialogues of the Carmelites. This very moving story, based on Georges Bernanos’ screenplay in turn based on Gertrude von le Fort’s “The Song of the Scaffold”, concerns a high-strung young aristocrat, Blanche de la Force, who yearns for a greater spiritual existence and submits herself to life in a Carmelite convent. Unfortunately this coincides with the waning days of the French Revolution when the church was considered suspect, and Blanche, along with the rest of the sisters in the Convent, is condemned to the guillotine. In truly one of the most remarkable and inspired scenes in all of opera, the sisters gather to sing the “Salve Regina” canticle on their way to their execution. One by one they leave the stage during the singing, and we hear the actual chop of the guillotine, as one by one the texture of the singers is diminished. Certainly the grotesque sound of the blade is in counterpoint with Poulenc’s setting of the nuns’ canticle, which is lushly and opulently harmonized and orchestrated. After Blanche’s friend Constance’s voice is stilled, we only have one voice left - Blanche, who has finally achieved her spiritual apotheosis. Her beautiful prayer is stilled by the blade, and amid a halo of enigmatic chords, the crowd watching the procession disperses.

James Harp

Box Office Gift Shop Home