Iphigénie en Glyndebourne 

CW Gluck: Iphigénie en Aulide, Glyndebourne, 25 June 2002 

One of the highlights of last summer's Glyndebourne Festival was a new production of Gluck's 'neglected masterpiece', Iphigénie en Aulide. An opportunity to see this opera was eagerly anticipated because of its reputation as introducing, at its first performance in 1774, a new, ground-breaking, era into French opera replacing that of Lully and Rameau. It was an instant box-office success and enjoyed an extended period of popularity in Paris with 428 performances before 1824. Its influence on the musical career of Hector Berlioz, who first saw it in Paris in 1822, is documented by David Cairns in his biography of that composer. Wagner made his own adaptation and orchestration of the work, which was performed in Dresden in1847. However, the first performance in the UK, in Oxford, was not until 1933.

The outline of the myth can be briefly summarised. The Greek invasion fleet for Troy is becalmed in Aulis, because the gods (particularly Diana, with a specific grievance) are generally unhappy about the whole affair. It has been made known from on high that wind will only come as a result of the sacrifice of Iphigenia, the daughter of the Greek commander-in-chief, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, his wife. Since everyone is so fed up with hanging around, even Agamemnon finally agrees to go along with this scheme. Iphigenia is to be brought to the sacrificial altar under the pretext of being married to Achilles. At the last moment Diana intervenes; sources differ as to what ensues.

In the Glyndebourne programme, the opera is billed as 'after Jean Racine's tragedy'. It is usually referred to in this way or as 'based on' Racine but this is not really true. Du Roullet the librettist, himself, refers to it in this way in correspondence and certainly incorporates lines adapted from Racine. Perhaps this was to get the opera accepted by French patrons! In fact, Gluck and du Roullet remove all of Racine's additions to the legend as related by Euripides. This includes the character Ériphile, who completely changes the dénouement in Racine's version, as is explained below

It has to be confessed that the performance was a disappointment, either because of dramatic weaknesses in the construction of the opera or because the production failed to do the opera justice. There was certainly no trace of the emotional impact of the Welsh National Opera production of Gluck's later opera, Iphigénie en Tauride, seen in Oxford in 1997 with the heart-stopping performance of Diana Montague in the title role. En Aulide at Glyndebourne  lacked the totally absorbing 'tingle-factor' of the WNO production of its sequel. It may be because en Aulide, the stronger female part is given to Clytemnestra (authoritatively performed at Glyndebourne by Katarina Karnéus), rather than to Iphigenia who has rather a passive role until the end of the opera. The male parts left no lasting impression; justice was not done to Gluck's musical inspiration.

The main distraction was the set, which consisted of three bare white walls (across which occasional coloured stripes would appear). One lost too much concentration wondering what all this was supposed to signify. Within this frame, however, the staging was good, the chorus representing well the bickering of the generals and the frustration of the troops and camp followers, uniformly clad in black; the confrontation with Achilles and his followers was particularly dramatic. However, as is customary Agamemnon is presented as a vacillating politician, rather than a charismatic general and it was hard to believe that his was the beard 'that launched a thousand ships'.

The lasting effect of this production was to induce a fascination for the eponymous heroine and to seek to establish the 'truth' about her. The quest is twofold, her origins and her fate. To establish a basis for this inquiry, my principal source is the contribution on Greek Mythology by F. Guirand to the New Larousse Encyclopaedia of Mythology (Hamlyn, London, 1959, NLEM), though I do not necessarily accept this as reliable. 

Although Iphigenia is generally accepted as the daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, even this does not go unchallenged. Clytemnestra, herself, was the daughter of Leda and sister, or half sister, of Helen (later of Troy) and the twins, or half twins, Castor and Pollux. The paternity of this quartet is a subject of some dispute. At the time of their conception, Leda was married to Tyndareus. NLEM has it that the same night that Zeus visited Leda in the form of a swan, she lay with her husband, afterwards bearing Pollux and Helen, children of Zeus and Castor and Clytemnestra, children of Tyndareus. Other versions have Helen and the twins born from one egg, children of Zeus, and Clytemnestra from another, daughter of Tyndareus, or even all four fathered by Zeus. There is clearly, here, a strong case for DNA testing. It would appear from Gluck that Clytemnestra regarded herself as being of mortal paternity; how else explain her snobbish outburst, on hearing of Iphigenia's betrothal to Achilles (son of the Nereid, Thetis):

Quelle triomphe pour vous,
Quelle gloire pour moi!
Aux yeux de tous les Grecs,
Le fils d'une Déesse
Va me nommer sa mère,
Et vous donner sa foi.

So, what of Iphigenia's origins? The picture is complicated by the story of Helen's abduction by Theseus (at the age of ten, according to NLEM - a clear case of paedophilia). She was eventually rescued by her twin brothers but there are rumours that she was impregnated by Theseus and bore a daughter. One story has it that this daughter was Iphigenia, adopted by her aunt, Clytemnestra, and Agamemnon to hide her parentage from Menelaus in order to avoid endangering Helen's marriage prospects. This strikes me as totally implausible. Clytemnestra's murder of Agamemnon to avenge the sacrifice of a niece is a very weak basis on which to launch the tragedies of the Oresteia! But there may have been a daughter of Helen and Theseus and this hypothesis is central to the drama as told by Racine, among others. Racine researched the subject thoroughly, as is recounted in his Préface to Iphigénie, where he gives the sources of these rumours. His solution, as a dramatist, is to introduce the character, Ériphile, and her companion Doris (sic) who are brought to Aulide from Lesbos by Achilles, who has been campaigning there. Despite their provenance, there is no indication that their relationship is other than platonic; in fact, Ériphile has a fatal crush on Achilles.

Racine's Editor, in La Pléiade edition of his works opens his introduction to Iphigénie:

'Certes, l'intérêt du drame est simple, puisqu'il se résume dans cette question: "Iphigénie mourra-t-elle?"'

and the same may be said of all versions of the legend, though this is not the only issue. The answer is not invariably a clear-cut 'yes' or 'no'! The problem is that for mythological continuity, Iphigenia (or a look-alike) has to turn up in Tauris sometime later and, what is more, as a virgin priestess. Euripides adopts the 'with a single bound she was free' approach to sequel writing. In two versions of his Iphigenia in Aulis, the axe falls or is about to fall at the play's end; at the beginning of Iphegenia in Tauris, the heroine explains that at the last moment she was whisked away and deposited in Tauris by the direct intervention of Artemis (Diana).

Racine's ending is different. It turns out that Ériphile is the lost daughter of Helen and Theseus, maybe also really named Iphigénie. Furthermore, it is revealed that the death of any blood relation of Helen will satisfy the conditions of the curse so that Ériphile's suicide satisfies Diana and leaves Iphigénie free to marry Achilles, thus losing her main qualification for the priestesshood. Gluck presented two endings to his opera; in both Iphigenia is reprieved at the last moment, in the first (1774) version, through the priest, Calchas, as intermediary, on the second (1775) by direct intervention of Diana, herself. In both, Iphigenia is united with Achilles. I suppose that Gluck could argue that the union was never consummated, before Achilles' departure for Troy and hence Iphigenia retained her eligibility to become a priestess of Diana. However, Wagner's version of the opera has Diana appearing before the sacrifice and immediately despatching Iphigenia to Tauris - a much more convincing conclusion!

In the Glyndebourne production, at the moment of sacrifice, the rear wall of the set rises to reveal an Elysian scene, bathed in gold light, from which Diana emerges, as if making a guest appearance from Covent Garden. But then, after her reprieve for Iphegenia and during the very dark music of Gluck's final chorus, Iphigenia is inexplicably slain by a blow from Agamemnon's sword. (A Swedish companion asserted, without elaboration, that it was a feminist ending.)

Each generation interprets myth according to the spirit of the age. Barry Unsworth has recently published 'The Songs of the Kings' (Hamish Hamilton, 2002). This is, in the form of a novel, an atheistic interpretation in which Iphigenia's death becomes inevitable as a result of a religious and politico-military consensus. She is survived by her slave, Sisipyla, who escapes and, it is implied, goes on to impersonate her in Tauris. However, here is the scenario for a twenty-first century opera 'based on Racine'. Achilles, betrothed to Iphigenia, comes from Lesbos with Ériphile and her lover, Doris. Iphigenia falls passionately in love with Ériphile, unaware that she is her cousin. Doris discovers them together and kills Ériphile in a jealous rage, unknowingly providing the required sacrifice. As the wind rises, a heart-broken Iphigenia vows to dump Achilles and to travel to Tauris to dedicate her life to the service of the goddess, Diana. (I would be pleased to hear from any composer prepared to take this on!)

In the meantime, Glyndebourne will have some awkward questions to answer, should it ever wish to mount a production of Iphigénie en Tauride!