Conductor  Marco Armiliato
Hortensius  Donald Maxwell
The Marquise of Berkenfield  Felicity Palmer
A Townsman  David Frye
Sulpice, a sergeant  Alessandro Corbelli
Marie  Natalie Dessay
Tonio  Juan Diego Flórez
A corporal  Roger Andrews
The Duchess of Krakenthorp  Marian Seldes
Notary  Jack Wetherall

Act I
On their way to Austria, the terrified Marquise of Berkenfield and her butler, Hortensius, have paused in their journey because they have found the French army blocking their way. When the marquise hears from the villagers that the French troops have at last retreated, she comments on the rude manners of the French people (“Pour une femme de mon nom”). Hortensius asks Sulpice, sergeant of the 21st regiment, to let the marquise continue on. Sulpice is joined by Marie, the mascot, or “daughter,” of the regiment, which adopted her as an orphaned child. When Sulpice questions her about a young man she has been seen with, she explains that he is a local Tyrolean who—though an enemy—once saved her life. Troops of the 21st arrive with a prisoner: this same Tyrolean, Tonio, who says he has been looking for Marie. She steps in to save him, and while he toasts his new friends, Marie sings the regimental song (“Chacun le sait”). Tonio is ordered to follow the soldiers, but he escapes and returns to declare his love to Marie. Sulpice surprises them, and Marie must admit to Tonio that she can only marry a soldier from the 21st.

The Marquise of Berkenfield asks Sulpice for an escort to return her to her castle. When he hears the name Berkenfield, Sulpice remembers a letter he discovered near the young Marie when she was found. The marquise soon admits that she knew the girl’s father and says that Marie is the long-lost daughter of her sister. The child had been left in the care of the marquise, but was lost on a battlefield. Shocked by the girl’s rough manners, the marquise is determined to give her niece a proper education and to take her to her castle. As Marie says goodbye to the soldiers, she learns that Tonio has enlisted so that he can marry her (“Ah, mes amis”). She has to leave both her regiment and the man she loves (“Il faut partir”).

Act II
The marquise has arranged a marriage between Marie and Scipion, nephew of the Duchess of Krakenthorp. Sulpice is also at the castle, recovering from an injury, and is supposed to be helping the marquise with her plans. The marquise gives Marie a singing lesson, accompanying her at the piano. Encouraged by Sulpice, Marie slips in phrases of the regimental song, and the marquise loses her temper (Trio: “Le jour naissait dans la bocage”). Left alone, Marie thinks about the meaninglessness of money and position (“Par le rang et l’opulence”). She hears soldiers marching in the distance and is delighted when the whole regiment files into the hall. Tonio, Marie, and Sulpice are reunited. Tonio asks for Marie’s hand, declaring that Marie is his whole life (“Pour me rapprocher de Marie”), but the marquise, unmoved, declares her niece engaged to another man and dismisses Tonio. Alone with Sulpice, the marquise confesses the truth: Marie is her own illegitimate daughter whom she abandoned, fearing social disgrace.

Hortensius announces the arrival of the wedding party, headed by the Duchess of Krakenthorp. Marie refuses to leave her room, but when Sulpice tells her that the marquise is her mother, the surprised girl declares that she cannot go against her mother’s wishes and agrees to marry a man that she does not love. As she is about to sign the marriage contract, the soldiers of the 21st regiment, led by Tonio, storm in to rescue their “daughter.” The noble guests are horrified to learn that Marie was a canteen girl, but they change their opinion when she tells them that she can never repay the debt she owes the soldiers. The marquise is so moved by her daughter’s goodness of heart that she gives her permission to marry Tonio. Everyone joins in a final “Salut à la France.”

Premiere: Opéra-Comique, Paris, 1840
This frothy comedy mixes humour with a rush of buoyant melody and notorious vocal challenges. The story concerns a young orphan girl raised by an army regiment as their mascot and begins at the moment of her first stirrings of love. Complications (and comedy) ensue when her true identity is discovered. The action is startlingly simple and unencumbered by intricate subplots, allowing the full charm of the characters and their music to come across in an uninhibited way. A clever score and winning libretto make for an appealing vehicle for world-class vocalism.

The Creators
Bergamo-born Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848) composed about 75 operas, plus orchestral and chamber music, in a career abbreviated by mental illness and premature death. Apart from the ever-popular Lucia di Lammermoor and the comic gems L’Elisir d’Amore and Don Pasquale, most of his works disappeared from public view after his death. But critical and popular opinion of his huge opus has grown considerably over the past 50 years. The librettist Jules-Henri Vernoy de Saint-Georges (1799–1875) was a dramatist and the manager of the Opéra-Comique. He also wrote the libretto for the enduringly popular ballet Giselle and was a frequent collaborator of the most successful theatrical personalities of his day. His co-librettist, Jean-François-Alfred Bayard (1796–1853), wrote more than 200 plays for the French theatre.

The Setting
The opera is set in the Austrian Tyrol, a picturesque mountain landscape. The Met’s new production places the action during the First World War.

The Music
Donizetti’s score is a deft combination of jaunty military tunes (including some actual French regimental songs from the composer’s era), brisk comic numbers, enormously graceful ensembles and vocal solos, and sparkling arias. The winsome appeal of the music prejudiced some critics of the time, notably Hector Berlioz, and for many years “serious” musicologists were dismissive of Donizetti’s work. Today the composer’s ingenious knack for vocal writing and his gift for melody are widely acknowledged. Not many singers have the technical ability and theatrical presence to deliver the famous fireworks arias (notably the soprano’s Act I “Chacun le sait” and the tenor’s Act I “Pour mon âme,” with its notorious nine high Cs). Just as important as these, however, are the lyric beauty and pathos of the slower melodic gems (the soprano’s “Il faut partir” in Act I and the tenor’s “Pour me rapprocher de Marie” in Act II).

Information provided by The Met Opera