9. For complete information about Rossini’s self-borrowings in La gazzetta, see the introduction to the critical edition of the opera, xxix–xxxi. See also Marco Mauceri, “La gazzetta di Gioachino Rossini.”
10. The story is derived from a 1763 play by Carlo Goldoni, written first as a bilingual comedy, Les Deux Italiennes, then rendered entirely into Italian as Il matrimonio per concorso. The work is most readily available in the 1999 edition by Fabiano (Goldoni, Il matrimonio per concorso).
11. For further information, see the commentary to the critical edition, 172–73 (note 190–268).
12. See, in particular, two pages in Bellini’s hand reproduced in Pastura, Bellini secondo la storia, facing 385 and 400. I have discussed several sketches related to the duet for Elvira and Arturo in the last act of I puritani in “Verdi the Craftsman,” 91–93.
13. See Della Seta’s edition of Verdi, La traviata: Schizzi e abbozzi autografi.
14. Roger Parker first pointed out to me in private conversation that isolated textless sketches for some of these melodies are likely to precede the page that lays out the entire first act.
15. For a preliminary discussion, see Gossett, “La composizione di Un ballo in maschera.” The history will be discussed more fully in chapter 14.
16. The letter was first printed in Pascolato, “Re Lear” e “Ballo in Maschera,” 87–88. For a new, complete edition of the correspondence between Verdi and Somma, see Carteggio Verdi–Somma, where the letter is printed on 243–45. The second verse of the first stanza was originally “Al tocco delle tre.”
17. See Carteggio Verdi–Somma, 246–48.
18. This is perfectly clear in the autograph manuscript, preserved in the Archives of Casa Ricordi, where the following pairs of measures were each originally a single measure: 469–470, 479–480, 499–500, and 555–556. See ff. 47v, 49, 50v, and 55.
19. Here, for example, is Giuseppe Radiciotti, Rossini’s most important biographer, on the libretto of La Cenerentola: “Cenerentola is a realistic comedy, in which the laments of the poor, persecuted girl and the affections of the two lovers are suffocated in the midst of more or less insipid and vulgar buffoonery. Only the extraordinary genius of Rossini could make it possible to tolerate for so many years on the stages of the world such a miserable action, covering with vivacity and his exquisite spirit the triviality of those gags, filling with his inexhaustible melodic vein the emptiness in that unhappy drama” (Gioacchino Rossini, 1:277). For a quite different perspective, see the essays in Bini and Onorati, Jacopo Ferretti e la cultura del suo tempo. Compare also the extraordinary document containing Ferretti’s response to his critics in Bini, “ ‘Altro è l’Arcadia.’”
20. For the famous letter from Verdi to Brenna of 15 November 1843 about Piave’s lack of experience as a librettist, see chapter 2, end of section “The librettist and Le convenienze teatrali,” and n. 24 of that chapter.
21. The example is featured in a famous essay by Luigi Dallapiccola, most easily available in English as “Words and Music in Italian Nineteenth-Century Opera,” 195–96.
22. Weiss, “Sacred ‘Bronzes,’ ” 49.
23. Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful, 17. According to Hanslick, this observation was first made by a French contemporary of Gluck’s, Pascal Boyé.
24. For further information, see Brauner’s introduction to his critical edition of Mosè in Egitto. Two other studies comparing the Italian and French versions of this opera are Isotta, “Da Mosè a Moïse,” and Conati, “Between Past and Future.”
25. The example from Mosè in Egitto is taken from the critical edition; that from Moïse is derived from the original full score published in Paris by Troupenas.
26. After having taken a position strongly in favor of the Mosè in Egitto setting in his article “Da Mosè a Moïse,” Isotta acknowledged in his “I diamanti della corona,” 339–40, that both versions function well.
27. For a helpful introduction to Rossini’s aesthetic views, consult Fabbri, “Rossini the Aesthetician.”
28. Lettere di G. Rossini, ed. Mazzatinti, Manis, and Manis, 332.
29. I cite this essay after Zanolini, Biografia del Maestro G. Rossini e Passeggiata del medesimo col Signor A. Zanolini di Bologna, 21. See also Lippmann, “Sull’estetica di Rossini.”
30. Lettere di G. Rossini, 202.
31. Ibid., 284–85.
32. The Metastasian verses are taken from his Siroe, re di Persia, first set to music in January 1726 by Leonardo Vinci. For further information, see the preface to Rossini, Musique anodine, Album italiano, ed. Tartak, xvii–xviii.
33. Émilien Pacini (1810–98) was the son of Antonio Pacini, one of Rossini’s principal publishers in Paris. For information about Émilien, see Rossini, Album français, Morceaux réservés, ed. Dalmone, xxi–xxii. Several autograph manuscripts of poetic texts by Pacini, texts intended to be underlaid under music previously written by Rossini to other words, usually the Metastasian verses, are found in the collection of the Fondazione Rossini in Pesaro. They are discussed in ibid., 319–20.
34. Both versions of the piece are published in ibid., 27–37 and 145–55.
35. This phenomenon should not, however, be exaggerated. Many cities during the first half of the nineteenth century (including London, Paris, and Vienna) had specific theaters in which Italian operas were normally performed in Italian, with Italian singers, Italian composers in residence, and Italian or Italian-trained musical staffs.
36. Rousseau, Lettre sur la musique française. For a general treatment of the intellectual role of music in France during this period, see Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment. Rousseau’s explicit criticism of French operatic style is discussed by Dill, in Monstrous Opera, 60–66.
37. The standard biography in English remains Warrack, Carl Maria von Weber. For Italian and German opera in Dresden, see his chapter 10. Italian perspectives are provided in Brumana and Ciliberti, Francesco Morlacchi e la musica del suo tempo (1784–1841).
38. See, for example, Taruskin, Defining Russia Musically.
39. See Dean and Knapp, Handel’s Operas, esp. chapter 9, which treats the state of Italian opera in England before Handel’s arrival in London late in 1710.
40. The nature and significance of the activity at the Odéon is thoroughly investigated in Everist, Music Drama at the Paris Odéon 1824–1828.
41. For an important set of essays on Wagnerism in Italy, see Rostirolla, Wagner in Italia. For Verdi’s reactions to the first Italian performances of Lohengrin at the Teatro Comunale of Bologna in November 1870, see Phillips-Matz, Verdi, 583–86.
42. See Bartlet’s introduction and commentary to her critical edition of Guillaume Tell, in which many of these issues are discussed. On the subject of early Italian performances of the opera, see Cametti, “Il Guglielmo Tell e le sue prime rappresentazioni in Italia.”
43. Cattelan, “I libretti italiani.” On the other hand, Bartlet is correct when she says that the Balocchi translation always bears in mind Rossini’s music, whereas Bassi’s seems to have been prepared without any thought for the original musical setting. Her discussion, with a complete edition of the Balocchi translation, is found as part of the critical edition, in the volume Commento Critico: Testi, 155–253. Some of the following discussion of the translation of Guillaume Tell is derived from Gossett, “Translations and Adaptations of Operatic texts.”
44. The passage is from the Marche, Récitatif et Chœur (N. 3), mm. 118–133; see Rossini, Guillaume Tell, 276–79 in the critical edition and note 119–133 through note 133 (pp. 109–10) in the commentary.
45. I have discussed several examples throughout this book, including Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda, Verdi’s Ernani, Stiffelio, and Rigoletto. One of the most severe cases, Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera, is treated in detail in chapter 14.
46. See the introduction to Guillaume Tell, xlvi–xlix. The music is edited as appendix 6 of the edition, 2025–50; see also the critical commentary to appendix 6, 320–24.
47. In the critical edition, see the Trio [Arnold—Guillaume—Walter] (N. 11). The passages are found on 672–77, 678–85, and 722–27.
48. Rossini’s use throughout the opera of melodic lines deriving from Swiss popular traditions has long been noted. The most extensive analysis of this aspect of the score is by Straeten, La mélodie populaire dans l’opéra “Guillaume Tell” de Rossini.
49. In the critical edition, see the [Final 4e] (N. 19). The passage is found on 1473–83.
50. There is a considerable literature on the metrics of Italian and French libretto poetry from the nineteenth century, and in recent years a number of scholars have become interested in the problem. An excellent introduction is Fabbri, “Istituti metrici e formali.” See also Lippmann, Versificazione italiana e ritmo musicale, and Giger, “The Triumph of Diversity.”
51. A copy of the libretto of L’assedio di Corinto is found in the British Library, 11715.cc.10.
52. For some fascinating examples of contemporary efforts to introduce non-Italian metrical patterns so as to match the words more closely to previously composed music, see Della Seta, “Un aspetto della ricezione di Meyerbeer in Italia.”
53. In the critical edition, see the [Récitatif et Romance Mathilde] (N. 9). The passage is found on 573–74.
54. In the critical edition, see the [Scène et Air Mathilde] (N. 13). The passage is found on 869–74.
55. In the critical edition, see the Duo [Mathilde–Arnold] (N. 10). The passage is found on 592–602.
56. Powers, “‘. . .il vario metro dei versi francesi. . .’”; I want to thank Harold Powers for sharing with me a typescript of his essay, which was presented at a conference in Paris in 2000.
57. Unusual characteristics of the Mefistofele libretto are the subject of Ashbrook, “The Mefistofele Libretto as a Reform Text.”
58. La Favorite, ed. Harris-Warrick. The standard Ricordi edition used until the publication of Harris-Warrick’s edition in both full score and vocal score was a reprint of their late nineteenth-century standard edition, issued originally in 1879, with the plate number 46268 (357 pp.). Several music critics (especially Andrew Porter) have written often and with great clarity about these problems, but their observations have largely gone unheeded.
59. In his review of the first performance, Berlioz expressed great admiration for the libretto, which was devised by Alphonse Royer, Gustave Vaëz, and Eugène Scribe, although it comes as no surprise to learn that his admiration did not also extend to Donizetti’s musical setting. See Glasow, “Berlioz on the Premiere of La Favorite”: “I believe I have said, and I repeat (although my approval counts for naught) that I love this libretto very much, as much for the pathos that it offers as for the clarity and naturalness of the action” (37–38).
60. In conjunction with its publication of the new critical edition of La Favorite in French, Casa Ricordi also issued a vocal score (Milan, 1999) with an Italian translation prepared by Fausto Broussard, based on nineteenth-century translations, that of Jannetti and another that Calisto Bassi prepared for the Teatro alla Scala in 1843. Broussard intervenes in order to rectify most of these faults. See his discussion (lvii) of both the dramaturgical problems discussed thus far and the metric problems to be discussed below.
61. In the critical edition, see the [Final] (N. 15). The cabaletta is found on 735–45 in the full score and 355–58 in the vocal score.
62. If the opera is to be presented in Italian, Broussard’s translation should certainly become the standard. Nonetheless there remain weaknesses even here, including the very phrase cited above, “Viens! je cède éperdu,” for which he simply replicates the inadequate nineteenth-century Italian setting of the text.
63. The most useful summary remains that of Bini and Commons, Le prime rappresentazioni delle opere di Donizetti nella stampa coeva, 750–56. They also provide an extensive collection of early reviews (756–93). See also Ashbrook, Donizetti and His Operas, 436–40.
64. In the absence of either a reliable edition or an autograph (the location of Donizetti’s own manuscript remains unknown), this transcription is derived from a vocal score published by Henry Lemoine (pl. no. 7969, 218 pp.). The Italian version is from the standard Ricordi vocal score (pl. no. 46263, 216 pp.).
65. One might find awkward the use of “à” on the downbeat of the second through fourth phrases and the downbeat position for “beaux” and “a-[mours],” but these details do not strike me as errors: surely Donizetti was fully aware that the second syllable of “amours” is accented. Rather, his decision to set the text in this way gives the melody its particular character and charm.
66. Zavadini, Donizetti, 518; the letter to Lucca is on 520–21.
67. This was almost certainly the composer Placido Mandanici, a friend of Donizetti’s from at least the mid-1830s. His name figures frequently in the Donizetti correspondence (for a list of the letters in which he is mentioned, see Zavadini, Donizetti, 1003), especially in the composer’s correspondence with Lucca. In a letter to his brother-in-law, Antonio Vasselli, of 16 February 1842, Donizetti describes Mandanici as a “man of very great learning” (Zavadini, Donizetti, 578).
68. Mila, Giuseppe Verdi. See also Budden, The Operas of Verdi, 2:167–242, as well as Giger, “The Triumph of Diversity.” Although Giger is critical of Langford’s “Poetic Prosody and Melodic Rhythm in Les Vêpres siciliennes,” the latter remains an essay well worth consulting. See also Toscani, “Verso francese e prosodia italiana.”
69. I copialettere, 160–61.
70. Abbiati, Giuseppe Verdi, 2:297–98. (The epigraph at the beginning of chapter 11 is drawn from Abbiati 2:297.)
71. In the absence of a critical edition of Les Vêpres siciliennes, the examples from the French score are derived from the first edition of the vocal score, published in Paris by Léon Escudier in 1855 (pl. no. L.E. 1500 [L.E. 1501 for the ballet], 415 pp.). See Hopkinson, A Bibliography of the Works of Giuseppe Verdi, 1813–1901, 2:112–13, edition 56A (a).
72. In the following examples, the passages (including the words) are identical in the vocal score with Caimi’s Italian text published in Paris by Léon Escudier, presumably in 1855, as I vespri siciliani (pl. no. L.E. 1583, 400 pp.), an edition not mentioned in Hopkinson (see 2:111–16), and the vocal score issued by Ricordi in 1856 as Giovanna de Guzman (pl. nos. 28116–28150, 482 pp.), Hopkinson 56B (a).
73. Nor is the sequence of syllables “[perder]-mi mi” particularly attractive. When working with his librettists during the original composition of an opera, this is precisely the kind of fault the composer rejected on countless occasions.
74. For a fascinating essay on Verdi’s efforts to revise the words and music of an opera written in Italian for performances in French, see Lawton, “The Revision of Recitatives from Il trovatore to Le Trouvère.”
75. Carteggio Verdi–Ricordi 1882–1885, 72–73.
CHAPTER TWELVE
1. The Berlioz treatise can be consulted in a fine English translation: Macdonald, Berlioz’s Orchestration Treatise. Macdonald lays out the history of the book in his preface (xiii–xxxii).
2. Franco Abbiati, author of a four-volume biography of Giuseppe Verdi in 1959 (frequently cited in this book), was for many years the principal music critic of the Corriere della sera in Milan.
3. The materials used in string construction changed significantly over the twentieth century. In particular, what had normally been an a or an e string on the violin made exclusively from gut was almost universally replaced with a steel string or a string with metal over a gut (or sometimes a nylon) core. The consequences for reliability and flexibility were positive, but there were also consequences for the nature of the sound.
4. These farse, whose premieres fall between 3 November 1810 and 27 January 1813, include La cambiale di matrimonio, L’inganno felice, La scala di seta, L’occasione fa il ladro, and Il signor Bruschino. For a discussion of stagings of La scala di seta, see the section “Rummaging in a trunk for La scala di seta
,” in chapter 1.
5. The opera was issued by Disques Erato in Paris (0630-7579-2).
6. At the end of this chapter, I will consider the vexed question of which keyboard instrument is most appropriate to use for Rossini’s operas.
7. Scaramelli, Saggio sopra i doveri di un primo violino direttore d’orchestra. I quote the passage after Meucci, “La trasformazione dell’orchestra in Italia al tempo di Rossini,” 448.
8. Would that I had been there! I know the performance from a tape kindly sent me by the orchestra.
9. I have consulted clippings of those by Max Loppert in the Financial Times and Hilary Finch in the London Times (both published on 14 April 2001). Loppert wrote, “On Friday it burst over a packed QEH with the force of a thunder-clap; noisy cheering greeted several of the numbers and ovations the finale.”
10. On the other hand, for practical reasons Biondi adopted four-string double basses, instead of the standard three-string instruments in use at La Scala in 1831. He told me that he had been unable to identify in Italy a sufficient number of adequate players of the three-string double bass (see the section “Double basses” later in this chapter).
11. Timpani from the first half of the nineteenth century, however, made available to composers and performers a more limited number of pitches than we are used to hearing with modern drums (see the section “Timpani” later in this chapter).
12. See Biondi, “Riflessioni interpretative su Norma.” Composers were expected to direct the first three performances from the cembalo (after which the job of coordinating orchestra and stage was left to the “violino principale,” who played the violin and conducted simultaneously, just as Biondi did in Parma. There was no conductor in the modern sense in Italian theaters until after 1850, and even then the practice spread slowly. Composers may have accompanied the secco recitative when appropriate, but nowhere does anyone refer to them as playing during concerted music. If the performance got out of kilter, of course, they could have used the keyboard instrument to get back into gear, but that is merely speculation. As late as in the autograph manuscript of Il bravo (1840), Mercadante signals a cello solo by writing “violoncello al cembalo.” He does not mean that there is a cembalo playing in an opera whose elaborate orchestral scoring would make such an addition absurd: he is merely using a conventional term to refer to the principal cellist in the orchestra. In personnel lists at major theaters, the term persisted even longer.
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