Nachtstück: An Opera on the Death of Anton Webern (Excerpt] 
Christopher Bernard

(On the backscrim is projected the following:)
"On the night of September 15, 1945, the composer Anton Webern and his wife -- then living in the village of Mittersill in the Austrian Alps during the Occupation -- attended a dinner party given by their daughter and son-in-law, Benno Mattel. unknown to the Weberns, Mattel was active in the local black market, illegal under the Occupation. That same evening, after dinner, two American Marines visited Mattel, ostensibly to offer a black-market purchase.
"As they and Mattel spoke in the kitchen, Webern, his wife, and their grandchildren relaxed in the Mattels' front parlor. At one point, Webern stepped outside to smoke a cigar that his son-in-law had given him over dinner. At almost the same moment, in the kitchen the Marines revealed their identities to Mattel and placed him under arrest. One of the Marines -- a nervous and unseasoned young soldier -- left the house to summon help to complete the arrest.
"Shortly afterwards, in the total darkness caused by curfew, a scuffle was heard in the front garden, and three shots rang out."
[During the following instrumental passage, projections of photographs and film clips of GERMAN FREIGHT TRAINS FROM THE 1930S AND 1940S are thrown against the backscrim. It should occur only gradually to the audience that these are trains carrying Jews and others to the German death camps.]
webern
Ah!
chorus
Ah! Ah! Ah! etc.
(The projections of the trains crossfade to a projection of DISTANT DEATH-CAMP CHIMNEYS BELCHING SMOKE.)
tenoR
(offstage)
Twisting in the careless sunny air
not far from the outskirts
of the city,
in the final months,
as the air raids rang
their bat shrieks down
the howling sky
you saw the rising pillars of cloud.
wEBERN
The spring air was rank with the smell
of burning hair.
You choked on it.
You choke on it still.
Who can bear to breathe pure air
after breathing that?
boy soprano
(offstage)
"White like lilies, candles pure,
like the stars with modest bow,
shines out, from the heart's core,
flamed with red, affection's glow...."
wEBERN
These words -- they mock me!
offstage soprano
"Thus the early narcissus
blossoms in the garden's row.
Let us hope that kind ones know
for whom they stand expectant, at attention."
(Goethe)
wEBERN
But for whom does the narcissus stand?
oFFSTAGE SOPRANO
(further off; echo-like)
"Let us hope that kind ones know
for whom they stand expectant, at attention."
wEBERN
Am I not one of the kind ones, then?
oFFSTAGE SOPRANO
(even further off; echo-like)
"...for whom they stand expectant, at attention."
wEBERN
Am I not one of the kind ones, then?
oFFSTAGE SOPRANO
(yet further; final echo)
"...at attention."
(OFFSTAGE SOPRANO's voice fades over the previous few lines, the projection of SMOKE fades to a PHOTOGRAPH OF WEBERN CONDUCTING, from the 1920s.)
wEBERN
Didn't I work to bring together
into harmony my fellows in a chorus,

in a chorus --
chORUS
in a chorus!
wEBERN
-- out of their factory sweat and fatigue, 
to sing their heart to the Viennese night?
BASS
Beethoven!
CONTRALTO
Bach!
basS
Haydn!
wEBERN
Mahler!
SOPRANO
Mozart!
chORUS
And when the ovations shook the hall
after the music fledged their spirits,
didn't you raise the score on high
above your head like a holy book -- 
music called the "Resurrection"?
wEBERN
Didn't we touch the heart of love then?
Wasn't I true to humanity and perfection?
Die Kunst ist Gottesdienst -- art is service to God....
Oh, why does the silence of the night sky ring
like a bell with an unbearable answer?
(Projection fades to darkness over the preceding lines.)
BOY Soprano and tenor
(both offstage)
"I am not my own.
My spirit spills
across the meadow of him
that loves me...."
wEBERN
(startled)
Peter! My son!
(On the backscrim appears a projection of WEBERN AND HIS SON on a mountain-climbing expedition.)
BOY SOPRANO AND TENOR
(ditto)
"We are not our own;
not I, not you, not anyone."
(Hildegard Jone)
wEBERN
Peter...Peter...
Our enemies flew above your train
and shot you
and your fresh new friends,
and left you to bleed your life away
under the February sky.
Only February then,
six long months ago --
was I then to blame
for leading you to die
on a grassy bank
beneath the winter sun?
Had I the courage 
to leave before the war,
you would be alive.
(Projection begins to fade.)
wEBERN (CONT'D)
(speaking)
Peter...Peter...Peter!
Why don't you answer me, I just heard you!
(Projection fades to darkened mountain. Silence. Stage goes dark except for light over WEBERN. Remaining chorus exits unseen.)