No Comment, Quotation — January 1, 2009, 11:48 am

A New Year’s Concert

One opera seems perfect for this New Year’s Day. It portrays a triumph over tyrannical abuse and an affirmation of the dignity and worth of human beings against a backdrop of hope and love. It is Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Fidelio,” op. 72, completed in its final version in 1815. “Fidelio” is a tale of love, intrigue and of political prisoners. It is based on a historically verified incident that occurred during the French Reign of Terror in Tours in 1790. The work’s hero is a woman, Leonore, who disguises herself as a man (Fidelio) to gain entry to a prison, where her husband, Florestan, is being held for political crimes. Through her tireless efforts, Florestan is sustained, emotionally and physically, and ultimately gains his freedom. Beethoven portrays the facts of his times, in which petty monarchs could and did imprison all they suspected of opposing them without any semblance of process. Here a couple of choice scenes from the wonderful Metropolitan Opera performance from 2003 under the baton of James Levine, Ben Heppner sings the role of Florestan and Karita Mattilla sings Leonore/Fidelio.

In the moving finale of the first act, Fidelio, without the permission of the prison warden, lets the prisoners out to experience a few minutes of sunlight and fresh air as she searches through their ranks for her husband.

Florestan is an advocate of freedom and democracy who refused to bend to the demands of a petty tyrant, who ordered him locked away. He sings of his misery in prison, where his jailers hope to crush him and his spirit, but his somber tones turn to defiance and a resolve to seek freedom, the word “Freiheit” rings repeatedly through the last lines.

Shortly before the work’s conclusion, Florestan is set free by his wife Leonore, and they sing a duet, “O Joy Without Name,” which the stress falling on the word “Freude,” an suggestion of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with its concluding hymn drawn from the Schiller Ode.

The rousing finale: the prisoners are set free, and they emerge into the sunlight and the promise of a new day. The prison guards come again: Don Pizarro, the intriguer who falsely sent Florestan and many others to prison, is himself hauled away to await a restored justice.

As Wilhelm Furtwängler reminds us, “Fidelio” often seems less an opera than an act of religious devotion. Beethoven’s music is a ringing appeal to the human conscience, a reminder of the essential role of freedom in a society worthy of humanity and a sharp admonition of the collective duty of care and fairness that society as a whole bears to those who are imprisoned in its name. It is an opera for the age of Bush. Our march to the sunlight still awaits, on January 20.

Share
Single Page

More from Scott Horton:

Conversation August 5, 2016, 12:08 pm

Lincoln’s Party

Sidney Blumenthal on the origins of the Republican Party, the fallout from Clinton’s emails, and his new biography of Abraham Lincoln

Conversation March 30, 2016, 3:44 pm

Burn Pits

Joseph Hickman discusses his new book, The Burn Pits, which tells the story of thousands of U.S. soldiers who, after returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, have developed rare cancers and respiratory diseases.

Context, No Comment August 28, 2015, 12:16 pm

Beltway Secrecy

In five easy lessons

Get access to 165 years of
Harper’s for only $45.99

United States Canada

CATEGORIES

THE CURRENT ISSUE

March 2017

Black Like Who?

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

A Matter of Life

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

City of Gilt

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Tyranny of the Minority

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Texas is the Future

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Family Values

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

view Table Content

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

Article
Texas is the Future·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Illustration (detail) by John Ritter
Post
The Forty-Fifth President·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Photograph (detail) by Philip Montgomery
Article
Itchy Nose·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Artwork (detail) © The Kazuto Tatsuta/Kodansha Ltd
Article
A Matter of Life·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Photograph (detail) by Edwin Tse
Article
Black Like Who?·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Photograph © Jon Lowenstein/NOOR

Hours for which New Orleans’s airport was partly evacuated in February over a package later found to contain gumbo:

5

Researchers suggested that Abraham Lincoln suffered from a genetic mutation that destroys nerve cells in the cerebellum rather than Marfan disease, which makes people grow tall and thin, with long tapering fingers.

Greece evacuated 72,000 people from the town of Thessaloniki while an undetonated World War II–era bomb was excavated from beneath a gas station.

Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!

HARPER’S FINEST

Who Goes Nazi?

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

By

"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

Subscribe Today