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The Romantic age grew out of the upheavals of the Industrial Revolution, the French Revolution and the subsequent Napoleonic Wars. As these spread across Europe, so there developed a modern sense of nationhood and popular freedom that was expressed according to each country's historic and political needs through their particular cultural traditions. However, a characteristic of Romanticism was its shared themes and the close relationship between all the arts, in particular music, poetry, painting and theatre.
Revolution and war
Eighteenth-century Sentimentality had begun to value the importance of emotional response, reflected in the German Sturm und Drang (Storm and stress). But a major change came from an increasing sense that the Enlightenment's belief in rationalism had failed. The rationalist project had sought to control nature, both within and without the individual, to create an ordered world. But by the last decades of the century it was clear that poverty, crime, disease, war – all the blights of mankind – were still its major condition. At the same time, whatever its merits, the project had depended upon centralist, aristocratic imposition. But as the century advanced so did the power of the bourgeoisie, who increasingly became the real driving force of the European economies. Despite this they were excluded from the machinery of state, able neither to advise upon nor influence the laws that regulated their role. This ultimately exploded first in the American and then the French Revolutions which had in common the struggle against unbalanced and inept financial management, taxation policy and legislation.
The motifs from TheRing used in the analysis of Wotan's monologue set out in Table 10.7b are listed below. The numbers attached to each theme refer to those in the ‘Thematic Guide’ in Spencer and Millington (2000). The motif names in this appendix and Table 10.7b are not Wagner's but interpretative names, albeit broadly agreed by most commentators.
Nationalist composers, principally in Bohemia, Hungary, Poland and Russia, were not isolated from mainstream European traditions. Their struggle was not, as is often naively proposed, to learn how to compose in countries where musical education was not available. In each of them there was a flourishing operatic and general musical life. But this was dependent on Western European models that represented the culture of alien dominant regimes from which the Nationalists struggled to emancipate themselves. In doing so, they contributed a series of major works to the international repertoire and, equally significantly, introduced or emphasised a number of elements that affected the future development of opera. These included:
The use of vernacular elements drawn from the life of ordinary people, bourgeoisie and peasantry, especially in music, song and dance;
In particular cases, the idea of deriving musical lines not just from the broad expression, but the precise shape and rhythm of language.
Nationalist composers are identified by their (musical) roots in folk material. But this is a simplistic and often misleading notion. Despite this, however, it is clear that in part their drive was to create music from sources outside the languages of the international mainstream. This meant that they made a major contribution to the development of music itself, by providing one means of renewing music after the apparent impasse of late Romanticism.
Pelléas et Mélisande and Wozzeck signal the true beginning of modernism in opera. Pelléas is revolutionary because of the kind of text Debussy needed to set, and the way in which he set it. A major preoccupation was how to get out of the impasse that Wagner had come to represent in music generally, and opera in particular, as Debussy himself wrote: ‘Contemporary dramatic music, however, embraces everything from Wagnerian metaphysics to the trivialities of the Italians – not a particularly French orientation. Perhaps in the end we will see the light and achieve conciseness of expression and form (the fundamental qualities of French genius)’ (Debussy, in Strunck, 1998: 1431–2). What he wanted was to ‘purify our music! Let us try to relieve its congestion, to find a less cluttered kind of music’ (1998: 1433). Just as painters and sculptors had turned to other, often ‘primitive’, traditions for new ways of looking at and representing the world, so Debussy turned to alternative forms of music encouraged by what he heard at the 1900 Paris Exposition Universelle:
The tuned drums of the east were a new source of rhythmic subtlety and excitement. The persistent use of the pentatonic scale altered and, for the moment, freshened melodic utterances. In the long-drawn tremolos of the percussion instruments, with their peculiar tuning, were promptings for those successions of ninths that subsequently were to become fingerprints on Debussy's manuscripts. In the minor pulsations of the Gamelan, Debussy found an antidote for the great surges of the Wagnerian orchestra.
(Thompson, 1965: 92)
The result was not an imitation of the oriental, but an impulse to rethink how music might sound and be structured, and Debussy emphasised that:
I have undertaken a task which was perhaps beyond my powers. Not having any precedent, I find myself obliged to invent new forms. Wagner could be of use to me, but I have no need to tell you how ridiculous it would be even to try him. I could use his system in the succession of scenes, but I should want to retain the lyrical line without letting it be absorbed by the orchestra.
Operatic Naturalism, most often associated with Italian Verismo, was the culmination of straightforward dramatic narrative and musical language: thereafter both started to fragment and develop more complex experiences. Until the later nineteenth century, the history of the arts presents a relatively clear development. From thereon, under a number of pressures, they began to fragment into a series of alternative, vying and often simultaneous movements. These ‘isms’ of the early twentieth century are most clearly seen in painting with several of them (highlighted in Table 13.1) paralleled in opera.
Naturalism is a philosophical movement that emerged in the mid nineteenth century as a response to growing industrialisation, urbanisation and the Darwinian scientific view of man. This responded to a view of the the human condition as completely determined by the material forces of the market and the social and physical environment this created. To Victor Hugo's emphasis on ‘exactness in the matter of locality’, Zola now added specific period, saying that his Rougon-Maquart novels would have been impossible before 1889: ‘I shall show this group at work, participating in an historical period…And thus the dramas of their individual lives recount the story of the Second Empire, from the ambuscade of the Coup d’Etat to the treachery of Sedan’ (Zola, ‘General Preface’ to the Rougon-Maquart novels).
The 1859 revival of Gluck's Orphée, reworked for the occasion by Berlioz, was one of a series of operatic résurrections staged at the Théâtre-Lyrique in Paris during the Second Empire. Starring Pauline Viardot (1821–1910) in the title role, it was the first major revival of Gluck's opera since the 1820s and attracted considerable attention in the press and elsewhere. Critics and others were fascinated by Viardot's dramatic presence on stage, producing images (both in pictures and words) of her Orpheus that are often striking in their awareness of time past. Indeed, ambivalence about the past and its artefacts might be said to haunt the reception of a work – and performer – many designated as the epitome of the classique. Contextualising this Orphée within the changing meanings of the term classique in the mid-nineteenth century, the article focuses on a particularly revealing moment in the transition between an operatic culture based on new works and one ever more reliant on revivals of acknowledged masterpieces.
The French legislation of 6 January 1864 which deregulated spoken and lyric theatre nationwide showed little sensitivity to the distinctive financial ecology of regional theatre. Its effects were precisely the opposite of those its architects intended, and caused most disruption to the very constituencies the legislation was intended to help. Comparative analysis of the immediate aftermath of this ‘liberté des théâtres’ reveals a state of near chaos across France. Town councils oscillated between abandoning to the market their traditions of theatre as artistic social service, and pouring in yet more taxpayers' money just to maintain the status quo. Opera, as the most expensive art form, was the immediate casualty, ceding considerable ground to a vigorous entertainment sector based around the operetta repertory (including opéra-bouffe) and the café-concert chanson.
In his final years, Berlioz's name became entangled in debates around Wagnerian ‘music of the future’; but Berlioz was also engaged with conceptions of the future in a much more literal sense throughout his life. An examination of texts such as Euphonia which treat futuristic settings helps us to identify three main technological tropes by which the future is characterised in Berlioz's writings: the industrialisation of space and time; the discourse of gender; and fears around agency. Applying these tropes to the contemporaneous La damnation de Faust enables a new reading of genre in Berlioz's ‘légende dramatique’, which is revealed to dramatise the dialectic of technology and gender on a meta-diegetic level. Performances of La damnation de Faust that stage it as opera or as Wagnerian Gesamtkunstwerk may blind us to the innovative aspects of the work, for these aspects are most visible when it is the orchestral ‘machine’ that is placed literally centre stage. This new reading of La damnation de Faust through the lens of Euphonia helps us to resituate Berlioz as a musician of the future in a manner that provides an alternative to the more familiar Wagnerian aesthetics.
The Italian opera company in Prague managed by Pasquale Bondini and Domenico Guardasoni played a central role in promoting Mozart's operas during the final years of his life. Using a wide range of primary sources which include the superb collections of eighteenth-century opera posters and concert programmes in Leipzig and the Indice de' teatrali spettacoli, an almanac of Italian singers and dancers, this study examines the annual schedules, recruitment networks, casting policies and repertoire selections of this important company. Ian Woodfield shows how Italian-language performances of Figaro, Don Giovanni, Così fan tutte and La clemenza di Tito flourished along the well-known cultural axis linking Prague in Bohemia to Dresden and Leipzig in Saxony. The important part played by concert performances of operatic arias in the early reception of Mozart's works is also discussed and new information is presented about the reception of Josepha Duschek and Mozart in Leipzig.