A Singer’s Guide to the Great Composers: Mozart Pt2
In Part 1 of my survey of the vocal genius of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, I wrote about many aspects of his life and work but kept the great triumvirate of Italian operas with libretti by Da Ponte for this article. However, before I look more closely at these operas, I need to write about one of the most fascinating characters of his and any age, Lorenzo da Ponte (1749 – 1838).
Born Emanuele Conegliano in Ceneda in the Republic of Venice, he was brought up in a Jewish family, the eldest of three sons. His father was the wonderfully named Geronimo, who after the death of Emanuele’s mother converted to Catholicism in 1764 in order to marry a Christian woman. This led to the conversion of the three sons as well, and young Emanuele took the new name of Lorenzo da Ponte from the bishop who baptised him. The three boys were then enrolled in the local seminary, and Lorenzo took Minor Orders, became Professor of Literature and was ordained as a priest in 1773. He moved to Venice itself and taught Latin, Italian and French, but, despite his ordination, was something of a libertine, and took a mistress, who bore him two children. He was accused of “public concubinage and the abduction of a respectable woman” and “living in a brothel, organising the entertainments therein”. He was found guilty and banished from Venice for 15 years. He found himself in Dresden, translating theatrical libretti and writing poetry, and was given a letter of introduction to the composer Antonio Salieri in Vienna, who duly got him a job as librettist at the Italian Theatre in the city. He found a patron in the banker, Raimund Wetzlar von Plankenstern, who also happened to be a benefactor of the composer, Mozart, and thus began one of the most important partnerships in all music. Da Ponte wrote libretti for Salieri and Vicente Martin Y Soler, as well as Mozart, but it was the three operas, ‘Le Nozze di Figaro’ (1786), ‘Don Giovanni’ (1787) and ‘Cosí fan Tutte’ (1790) that were to become the most renowned. With the death of his major patron, Emperor Joseph II in 1790 and Mozart in 1791, and unable to return to Venice, he set off for Paris with a letter of introduction to Queen Marie Antoinette, the sister of the late emperor. En route, he learned that Paris and the Queen were to be avoided due to a little local difficulty involving tumbrils and guillotines, so he diverted to London with his latest companion, Nancy Grahl, where he took various jobs such as language teacher and grocer, eventually becoming librettist at the King’s Theatre. More intrigues, including debt and bankruptcy, led to him having to flee to the newly independent United States of America with Nancy and their children. After more wanderings, during which he was a grocer again and an Italian teacher, he opened a bookshop in New York and became the first Professor of Italian Literature at Columbia University. He became a naturalised American citizen in 1828, having introduced the operas of Mozart and Rossini to New York, and founded the first opera house in the USA, which eventually developed into the Metropolitan Opera. He died in 1838, at the age of 89, and was afforded a massive funeral.
So, when we talk about Mozart’s Da Ponte operas, there is quite a story attached! The first was ‘The Marriage of Figaro’, premiered in 1786 at the Burgtheater in Vienna, based on Pierre Beaumarchais’s stage play ‘La Folle Journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro’ which had opened in Paris in 1784, itself the sequel to his comedy ‘Le Barbier de Séville’ in 1775. It is almost impossible to believe that from 1786 to 1791, Mozart wrote the three Da Ponte operas as well as ‘The Magic Flute’, ‘La Clemenza di Tito’ and the Requiem. That’s just the important vocal works! To be able to compose, in such a short time, so many of the greatest works of all time, is nothing short of miraculous, and it makes the tragedy of Mozart’s early death even more terrible. Mind you, when we realise that the average lifespan of a man in the late 18th century was about 40, it is perhaps not so surprising that Mozart (and Schubert) died at an age which we would now describe as tragically young.
Enough of morbid thoughts. Let’s look at life-enhancing genius. Beaumarchais’ play, referred to above, had been a smash hit in Paris, although its message of insubordination and contempt for aristocratic authority was unmistakable, and the Emperor Joseph II had banned it. However, Da Ponte succeeded in calming the emperor, and, by rewriting Figaro’s final act tirade against the inherited nobility into a tirade against unfaithful wives (an easier target at that time!), and toning down to almost non-existence the pre-revolutionary zeal of the original play, the opera was premiered on May 1st 1786 with Mozart conducting from the fortepiano and playing the recitatives.
Just for a moment, imagine what it must have been like to see and hear ‘The Marriage of Figaro’ for the first time ever. I often muse on these first ever performances – Figaro, Tristan, The Ring, Falstaff. I suppose the generation before me would have been able to marvel at the first nights of Peter Grimes and Billy Budd. I even met someone who had been at the first performance of Turandot! I have been involved in one or two modern premieres, even some decent ones, but I have never felt, and can’t really imagine, the wonder of coming out of the theatre and thinking: “I have just been present when history was made!”.
The first performances were largely successful, and contemporaries wrote of their admiration for the composer. It was put on in Prague in December of the same year, and its success there led directly to the commissioning of ‘Don Giovanni’ in 1787.
I have been lucky enough to sing in Figaro many times over the years, starting at the Guildhall as a student, when I sang Figaro for the first and only time. After that, I sang the role of Dr Bartolo. The casting of the opera is interesting, as there are 4 roles which could be ascribed to the same voice, more or less, all hovering round the vocal type, bass/baritone. It is one of the very few great operas without a leading tenor part, and there are three quite different soprano roles and two mezzos. It is magnificently constructed with arias, duets and ensembles. There is little chorus, although it is essential to the story. The only real problem comes in the 4th and final act, when, in the complete version, there are 4 arias more or less following one after the other, two of them, in my opinion, much inferior to the rest of the music. They are assigned to Marcellina and Don Basilio, are largely unrelated to the plot, and are usually cut. I only once sang in an uncut version, in Brussels in the late 1990s, and, as Doctor Bartolo, had to appear on stage throughout both. The singers did their best, but, in an already very long opera, it is a merciful relief when these two pieces are omitted.
The low male voice issue is an interesting one. I sang Figaro, but found it quite high, and was glad and right to move on to Bartolo. However, the fact that Bartolo is Figaro’s father meant that quite often the singer playing Figaro was older than me! Cue extra work for wigs and make-up, and stiff-legged acting for me. Nowadays of course, it’s easy!! The role of the Count in his solos and small ensembles is a proper baritone. I have all the notes, but the tessitura lies too high for me. Another peculiarity is that, in the ensembles, quite often the low voices are in different ranges from in the solo arias. For example, in the great finale to Act 2, Bartolo, traditionally the lowest voice amongst the men, has an ensemble line above both Figaro and the Count. At this stage in the opera, Bartolo and the Count are in cahoots and Figaro is on his own against them, but the line for Bartolo (bass) is written higher, often an octave, than the Count (baritone). In the sextet in Act 3, when Figaro’s parentage has been discovered, the Count’s part is above Bartolo and Figaro (who are now in cahoots with each other), but Figaro is lower than Bartolo. Consequently, whenever one plays ‘The Marriage of Figaro’, there has to be a great discussion before production begins, about who will sing which line? I always swapped with the Count in the Act 2 Finale, but, in the Sextet, there would be the question of whether Figaro was a baritone or a bass. If he was a baritone, I would, as Bartolo, sing the lower line. If he was a bass, there would be more discussions, and often, we would wait until the first days of rehearsal to decide! Why Mozart wrote like this is not clear. He was presumably composing for particular voices, but that still doesn’t explain the anomalies within the score. This ensemble variation also occurs in ‘Don Giovanni’ and ‘Cosí’, but almost never in the writing of other composers. Perhaps the haste with which Mozart was compelled to compose might explain this, but it is extremely interesting nonetheless. I’m sure there have been learned tomes written about this, but I would be fascinated to know if any of our readers have any ideas?
Generally, Susanna is written higher than the Countess in ensembles, but occasionally I have heard the sopranos swapping here and there. Cherubino is a proper “Trouser Role” for mezzo (the role is a teenage boy), and I have sung with some great ones – Katarina Karnéus in Brussels and Magdalena Kožena in Aix in particular. Marcellina, Bartolo’s enemy in the beginning who turns out to be a youthful flame of his and mother of Figaro (with Bartolo as father!), is basically a high mezzo or lowish soprano, and sings the third line from the top in the ensembles, but when she is given the Act 4 aria, she has almost impossibly high notes and fiendish coloratura. This is another reason to cut the aria!
It is a wonderful opera to take part in, and to watch. I hesitate to recommend a particular recording, as it’s all subjective, and I have a preference for the recordings I grew up with, and there are lots of them. I tend to go for the one conducted by Giulini with Schwartzkopf, Moffo, Wächter and Taddei and the Bőhm with Janowitz, Mathis, Fischer-Dieskau and Prey. Both of these are from the 1960s, and are uninfluenced by the early music revolution, but the singing and the conducting are on a level, I think, that has not been equalled since.
Once again, and having included my long preamble about Da Ponte, I have run short of space to attempt to do justice to Giovanni and Cosi in 300 words, and so, with your leave, and since Mozart was such an unrivalled genius, I propose to continue this survey in a third part.
