John Eccles’s Semele presents an operatic retelling of the story of a woman who aspires to become immortal, but whose blind ambition meets a fatal conclusion at the whim of the jealous goddess, Juno. The libretto, written in 1706 by William Congreve, brings a distinctively baroque veneer to the mythological story, drawing special attention to the issue of human frailty not present in the tale’s original source, Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Writing very much in the style of his precursor Henry Purcell, Eccles displays in his musical setting of Semele a formidable talent for dramatic writing. Had Semele ever been performed as scheduled in 1707—it was replaced at the last minute by an Italian pasticcio—it would have been a major advance in the trend toward through-composed English opera begun by John Blow and Purcell, but the first performance of Eccles’s Semele did not occur until more than 250 years later in London. 

Costume sketches for Semele by Kim Sorenson.

The composer of some dozen masques and numerous songs and odes, John Eccles (1668-1735) was active in London during a peculiar period of time in the history of English musical drama. With one foot firmly in the English tradition of “semi-opera” (spoken dialogue with songs) and the other in the Italian tradition of fully sung opera, he sought to develop between 1700 and 1710 an English rival to Italian opera seria that had already become popular on the European continent. But the arrival in London of George Frederic Handel, the successful premiere of Rinaldo in 1711 led to the domination of opera seria just at the time Eccles had developed a sensitive secco recitative style for the English language.

For the story of Semele, William Congreve not surprisingly drew from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Metamorphoses, completed in 7 A.D., enjoyed immense popularity in vernacular printings from the Renaissance through the Enlightenment. Dozens of Italian librettists drew their inspiration from Metamorphoses, freely crafting episodes from the poem into full-length operas replete with elements of love, jealousy, and revenge that have been infused into the genre ever since. The story of Semele, for example, comprises a mere 62 verses of poetry in Ovid’s work, but stretches to three acts of 17 scenes in Congreve’s libretto.

The idea of transformation in Metamorphoses—in particular the transformation of humans into immortals—resonated deeply with the baroque culture’s ideas of fate and human life. José Maravall, one of the most influential cultural historians of our time, has remarked that in the 17th and early 18th centuries, human life was widely viewed as a “current of changes that could not be arrested.” A common narrative found in baroque literature is that of humans struggling against fate to dominate their inconstant world. In his libretto to Semele, Congreve shapes the heroine into one who attempts just that through her aspiration to transcend her mortal trappings.

Semele’s dilemma is that she is in love with an immortal, Jupiter, but can no longer endure the uncontrollable, all-too-human pains that accompany love’s pleasure—feelings of jealousy, abandonment, and doubt. In Act I, we find Semele, already having enjoyed a liaison with Jupiter, ensconced in a ritually arranged marriage to Athamas at the temple of Juno. Semele laments and delays the moment, praying to Jupiter to prevent the ceremony from taking place. Jupiter’s thunder is heard, causing priests and augers to flee. As reported by Semele’s father (Cadmus), Jupiter appears in the form of a purple eagle and sweeps Semele away.

In Act II, Jupiter’s wife, Juno, swears vengeance after she learns from her handmaid, Iris, that her husband has erected a palace in which to keep Semele. Meanwhile, at the new palace, Semele is saddened by Jupiter’s absence just as her god arrives in human form to enjoy her delights. Semele suggests that he make her immortal so that she no longer suffers the pangs of love. But knowing that such a transformation would tilt the balance of power among the gods, Jupiter deftly distracts Semele by causing the sudden appearance of her sister, Ino.

In Act III, Juno’s jealousy motivates all of the action. Striking a deal with Somnus, god of sleep, Juno gains entry to Semele’s palace disguised as Ino. At the same time Somnus weakens Jupiter with an erotic dream that leaves him prey to any demand Semele might make. Disguised as Ino, Juno instructs Semele to refuse another sexual liaison with Jupiter until he grants her an unconditional wish. Playing on Semele’s desire to become immortal, Juno cunningly instructs her to demand that Jupiter appear in his immortal guise, for if Semele does so, she will immediately be transformed to an immortal being. Unaware that such an action would kill her, Semele succeeds in extracting an oath from Jupiter and demands that he shed his human disguise. Regretful of so hastily granting the wish, Jupiter descends in his actual form—a fiery cloud—and incinerates Semele in view of a gloating Juno. Apollo appears to proclaim that Bacchus, the child of Semele and Jupiter, will rise from Semele’s ashes and free humanity from the pains of love.

That William Congreve was one of the most esteemed literary figures in early 18th-century England is evident from his treatment of character in Semele. He exploits the core traits of both the human and immortal characters to achieve considerable dramatic development during the course of the opera. The result is a far richer portrayal of character than in most Italian librettos of the time. An intense jealousy, for example, motivates Juno throughout the drama, and in a well-crafted series of duets with Iris, Somnus, and Semele, we witness Juno garnering important information and powers that ultimately enable her to destroy Semele. Ambition and love lead Semele to blindly seek from Jupiter both immortality and a new status as Juno’s equal, desires that lead directly to her ruin. Sexual desire causes Jupiter, crafted in the libretto as an archetype of the Restoration rake—or one could argue, the typical male—to find himself making a promise that he knows will kill Semele.

Unlike Italian opera librettos of the same period, Congreve does not habitually translate climactic moments for the characters into opportunities for the composer to supply arias. In the final moments of the opera, for example, Semele’s lament, “Ah me, too late I now repent,” is in recitative, and Jupiter’s repentant “Ah! Whither she is gone,” sung when he realizes that he has been tricked into destroying his lover, is a recitative with a refrain. It is significant that the only major character to be granted a full exit aria in the entire opera —Juno—is the cause of everything unfortunate in the story. Her Act III aria, “Above measure is the pleasure which my revenge supplies,” expresses at the opera’s conclusion the evil that simmers within her from her very first appearance in Act II.

In a further departure from early 18th-century Italian opera, listeners of John Eccles’s setting will be struck by the variety of musical expression both in the orchestra and in the vocal parts. Eccles frequently engages the orchestra to depict actions that are taking place on stage: thunder, the foreboding sounds of Juno’s chariot as it approaches, and the slow descent of Jupiter’s cloud just before Semele dies. Instrumental accompaniment of many of the arias, ariosi, and recitatives heighten the vocal expressions in interesting ways as well. One of many examples of this comes in Semele’s Act I entrance arioso, “Ah me! What refuge now is left me.” A solo violin punctuates the phrases of Semele’s lament to Jupiter with virtuosic echoes that suggest her loneliness in a human world she abhors.

Eccles uses formal and textural variety also to advance the dramatic pacing of entire scenes. In the first scene of Act II, for example, Juno quizzes Iris on the whereabouts of her nemesis, Semele, and develops a plan to trap her. The urgency of Juno’s inquiry grows sequentially through a brief orchestral symphony, a fast-paced duet recitative, a double aria for Iris, an accompanied recitative for Juno, and finally another duet recitative. Eccles gives each segment of the scene distinctive musical details within the related keys of G major and e minor. Juno’s and Iris’s opening conversation is represented by a quick, though melodically stilted recitative. Iris’s lengthy two-part aria, “There from mortal cares. Thither flora the fair,” is ironic in its light-heartedness, leaving ample opportunities for Juno to storm around the stage as she learns more of the tawdry details of Semele’s liaison with Jupiter. Juno’s rage explodes in her recitative, “Not one of curst Agenor’s race,” accompanied by a flurry of martial-sounding expressions in the violins.

Although Juno’s rage still looms large at the end of the opera, Congreve and Eccles imbue Semele’s final moment on stage with touching simplicity. As she burns in the presence of her lover, Jupiter, Eccles strips her musical expression of everything but continuo accompaniment. Her pleas for help—laid bare in recitative—go unanswered, an unquestionable reference to her Act I pleas that precipitate the whole drama. In the end, Semele receives, through death, relief from her human suffering. But up against the challenge of a powerful and jealous goddess, it is not an ending that her blind ambition could ever foresee.

Some 35 year after Semele was written (but never performed), George Frederic Handel resurrected Congreve’s libretto as the basis for the text of his well-known and alluring work of the same title. Considered too lascivious a story for opera in 1744, Handel wrote it as an oratorio, although today the work is often staged. Those able to attend the Juilliard Opera Workshop’s performances of Eccles’s Semele will delight in comparing the two vastly different settings of the same text.

Performances of Semele take place at 7 p.m. on February 25, 26, 28, and March 1, in Studio 305. The double cast features Shalanda Bond (Semele), Kevin Thompson/Brian Mulligan (Jupiter), Abby Powell/ Laurice Lanier (Juno), Soo Kyung Ahn (Iris), and more than a dozen other undergraduate singers. An extremely limited number of tickets will be available to Juilliard students, faculty, and staff beginning Monday, February 11, in the Vocal Arts Department, Room 403.

Christopher Mossey is a senior officer for The Campaign for Juilliard. His edition of Francesco Cavalli’s 1644 opera, La Doriclea, is forthcoming from A-R Editions in 2002.