The World's Most Famous Operas — The Golden Cockerel!

The World's Most Famous Operas

The Golden Cockerel!

Music by: Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov
(1884–1908)

Rendered into Arabic by: Samir Shikhani

An opera in three acts, adapted from a legend by the poet Alexander Pushkin

First produced in Moscow in 1909

The Characters:

• The Astrologer
• King Dodon
• The Queen of Shemakha
• Prince Guidon
• Prince Afron
• General Polkan
• Amelfa: mistress of the royal household

Time and Place: imaginary

Act One

The scene: the court of King Dodon.

Before the curtain rises, there appears on the stage, in front of it, an old man of strange appearance, short of stature, dressed in the garb of the astrologers of old, with a tall cap adorned with the signs of the zodiac. In a loud, quavering voice, he announces that the old tale he is about to present is not true in its entirety, but that it carries a message and a moral.

The curtain rises upon the court of the fat old King Dodon, seated on his tall, magnificent throne in the middle of the hall, surrounded by the members of his privy council. The King speaks and tells them that he is no longer as strong as he once was, that he does not know what to do while enemies threaten his kingdom from every quarter, and that he wishes they would leave him in peace, to enjoy eating and sleeping and rest...

The King has two sons, the elder of whom, Guidon, stands up and says the matter is simple: the whole trouble is that the armies are close to one another, and in constant conflict. If King Dodon could withdraw his forces from the border region, he would be able to enjoy the rest he seeks. For the enemy would at once set busily about burning and plundering the villages scattered at the far edge of the kingdom, until weariness and exhaustion wore him out, whereupon Dodon's forces would fall upon him and rout him utterly.

The idea pleases the members of the court council, with the exception of the old General Polkan, who asks what would befall the country if weariness did not overcome the enemy and he continued his march on the capital.

The younger son, Afron, rises and says that his brother is mistaken, as usual, and that the best solution to the problem is to disband the armed forces entirely; this move would quiet the enemy and put it into his head that he was now

safe from all danger; then, within a single month, the disbanded forces would be remobilized, and the enemy would be taken by surprise and annihilated in a decisive battle.

All applaud this plan even more than they applauded the previous one, and Dodon embraces his son and congratulates him on his military genius. But General Polkan objects, saying: The enemy may deceive them and not wait a month before attacking the capital.

The court council falls into a heated discussion and a long debate about divining the future by means of beer dregs, or bean seeds; and while they are thus engaged, the old Astrologer enters and solves the problem. He is bringing the King a gift — a golden cockerel — and he presents it, saying:

— This cockerel should be set upon a column to watch for danger; if the enemy advances, it will warn you with its crowing!

The King is greatly pleased with the precious gift and asks the Astrologer what reward he desires. The Astrologer asks for nothing at that moment, but begs the King to promise him, in writing, a gift in the future. At this the King shows his displeasure at a written pledge, and the Astrologer contents himself with a verbal promise.

The assembly disperses, and a great bed is brought for the old King, whom drowsiness has overcome. Amelfa, the mistress of the household, comes and prepares the bed and some food; then the King sinks into his sleep, and dreams, as sleepers dream, of ravishing maidens dancing a wonderful dance. But the golden cockerel soon crows, warning of imminent danger, and crowds rush to the court; the King issues his order to his two sons to lead the armies out to face the enemy, then lies down again, and dreams of the dancers and the ravishing maidens. The cockerel wakes him with its crowing, and he realizes that he must do something; so he orders his armor brought to him — old and covered with rust — and his sword — heavier than he can carry — and his horse, which must be a quiet horse. After great effort the King manages to put on his armor and mount his horse with the help of some of his men. As for the mistress of the household, it grieves her that the King should go without taking his food, but he reassures her that he will eat on his way whatever falls into his hands.

And so the King rides out to the field amid the cheers and salutes of the crowds. In vain do they try to dissuade him from his resolve and keep him in the rear, far from danger.

Act Two

The scene: a battlefield

The time is just before dawn, and through the darkness the onlooker makes out corpses strewn here and there, among them the bodies of Guidon and Afron, the King's two sons, each one's body pierced by the other's sword, their two horses standing near them in deep mourning. For in the thick of the fray the two brothers slew one another without knowing it.

The King and his army come upon this dreadful sight, and his voice rises in wailing for the grievous loss that has befallen him. Dawn breaks, and they glimpse in the distance a tent which they believe to be one of the enemy's tents. They load their small cannon with explosives and open fire on it, and presently there emerges from it a beauty attended by Oriental handmaidens. It is the Queen of Shemakha, and she bursts into the "Hymn to the Sun," a song that tells of the love she could offer her beloved in her distant Eastern land.

King Dodon forgets the painful sight of his two sons once their bodies have been carried away, and approaches her, followed by General Polkan. The Queen offers them wine and invites them to sit beside her on the soft carpets, and tells Dodon that she has come, in fact, to conquer his country. He asks her where her army is, and she replies that a woman of her charm and beauty has no need of any army. Polkan begins to put foolish questions and make silly remarks, and the Queen asks Dodon to dismiss him from her presence. Polkan withdraws and hides behind a rock to watch what will happen.

As for the bewitching, coquettish Queen, she has resolved to win the heart of old King Dodon with her splendid singing and her wonderful dancing. She induces him to sing, and then to dance, despite his hesitation at first, for he hates to have his army see him in such a state.

The Queen goes on flattering him now, teasing him now, until in the end he offers her his hand and his kingdom, and even the head of General Polkan, should she have any desire for it. She accepts what is offered, adorns herself in her most splendid finery, and the procession sets out for the capital to strains of music that are a medley of military marches and the airs played at weddings.

Act Three

The scene: before the court of King Dodon

In the spacious square before the royal court a vast throng of people has gathered,

troubled by the war and by the thick clouds massing in the sky. As for the golden cockerel, it stands on its column, silent and motionless. Messengers come running, and Amelfa comes out of the palace and proclaims to the assembled crowd that King Dodon has triumphed over four kings — the four kings of the playing cards: diamonds, spades, hearts, and clubs. She adds that the King has ordered the execution of his two sons for their quarreling, and that he calls upon the people to keep still and quiet, or else heads will roll from shoulders.

But the most important news is that the King has rescued a beautiful princess, is bringing her with him, and will marry her.

Only moments pass before the crowds behold the procession of the King and his triumphant bride, made up of soldiers, dwarfs, giants, and many races of mankind. The cheers ring out. The golden carriage bearing King Dodon and the Queen of Shemakha arrives; they alight amid shouts of joy and jubilation, and take their seats on the two thrones set up at one side of the square. Then the victory celebration begins with a magnificent ballet, and no sooner does it end than the Astrologer appears and reminds the King of the promise he made him concerning the reward for his gift, "the golden cockerel." And all he asks is that the King yield to him the Queen of Shemakha herself!

The King believes the Astrologer is jesting, not in earnest. But when the latter persists in his demand, the King takes up his scepter and brings it down on the crown of his head; at once a clap of thunder is heard, darkness falls, and the Astrologer drops to the ground.

Amazement seizes the King and a shudder takes hold of him; he leans toward the Queen, and she bursts out laughing, then pushes him away from her, calling him a mad, addled old man.

Suddenly the golden cockerel flies from its place and pecks the King on the head, and he falls down dead. Darkness reigns once more, and mocking peals of laughter are heard from the Queen; and when the lights return, the Queen and the cockerel have vanished.

The people mourn their departed King and recount his fine qualities: he was a good man, wise, merciful, just. How can they live without a king?

The Astrologer appears before the curtain and paces the boards back and forth, saying to the audience in his loud, quavering voice:

— "Do not mind the sad ending of the story, for the only two real persons in it are: I and the Queen!"

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