MOZART

BASTIEN AND BASTIENNA

(one act, cast of three, STB)

The scene is a green blossoming meadow with an imposing castle in the distant background. A lovely spring day, but all is not happy. Bastienna, an exceptionally pretty young shepherdess, is so heartbroken at the recent fickle-ness of her beloved Bastien, that she is unable to find consolation even in her little sheep:

Gone is my love. I feel forsaken.

Taken forever is sleep and rest.

Sad and distressed, by loss oppressed,

Nothing can soothe my troubled breast . . .

I wander in the meadow, forlorn!

And seek a place to weep,

Not even finding comfort

In tending little sheep . . .

Colas, local philosopher, magician and fortune teller, reveals the secret of his art:

The fortune teller prophesies

The wonders of tomorrow.

But lovesick eyes cannot disguise

Their secret joy or sorrow.

No need for hunting high and low

To gather all I need to know.

I owe my reputation

To a loving generation,

For magic is a simple art

When youthful players take part.

Into this learned and sympathetic ear, Bastienna pours out her agony and distress, leading to the unthinkable question. Colas has to tell her that her fears are well founded. Bastien has indeed taken up with someone else. Worse yet, that someone is no less than the rich and powerful lady of the castle, who has won him over with flattery and costly gifts. Bastienna undergoes an inner crisis that leads her to an admirable if not entirely satisfying conclusion.

Were I like some other foolish lady,

Flattered by a stranger’s charming smile,

I would seek my fortune in the city,

Stealing hearts and flirting all the while.

But I love my Bastien, oh so dearly!

All too clearly,

Him alone have I adored.

Come, come, come, brace up!

Even in this sad confusion,

I have come to one conclusion:

Virtue is its own reward.

Colas advises her that there is only one way to win back her faithless sweetheart: she must pretend to be equally fickle, let him know that she is not in the least upset. In short, she must take up flirtation and frivolity, like the ladies in the city.

Bastienna, with renewed hope, goes off to practice frivolity, and we finally meet the scoundrel who has cost her so many tears. Surprisingly, he turns out to be not the callous coldhearted brute we might have expected but a likable enough young fellow who has had his fling and has now come to a momentous decision:

With maturity and vision

I have looked into my life,

And I’ve come to this decision:

Sir, I need a loving wife.

Colas informs him that it’s too late. Bastienna has moved on, found new interests, and another boyfriend, who happens to be rich, handsome. sophisticated and charming. Bastien is stunned. He reels, he staggers.

Go! This gossip’s past believing!

Bastienna still is mine.

She is helpless at deceiving;

From her eyes the truth will shine . . .

Bastienna lost! Can nothing be done? Surely Colas in his vast wisdom,

must know some way to bring her back. Is there no secret magic formula? With-out hesitation, Colas reaches for a musty volume and frantically scans the crum-bling pages, seeking to decipher the highly technical language. His brow furrows. The sky darkens.

The answer is yes! Bastienna can be his again, but only on condition that he promise this time to value her at her true worth and to take better care of her than he did before. Bastienna returns, by now so thoroughly indifferent to Bastien that she fails to recognize him. Though he does dimly remind her of a boy that she was once fond of.

A lad was so filled with devotion --

His name I can barely recall --

His love was as deep as the ocean.

He found me the fairest of all . . .

Bastien chooses this inopportune moment to propose marriage. She replies: fine thing! A faithless husband! Just what I need! From this, a quar-rel ensues, which leads in turn to a finale fraught with suspense.