UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI

Date:______

I, ______, hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of: in:

It is entitled:

This work and its defense approved by:

Chair: ______

Reading Religion: A Music and Text Approach to Religious Themes in Tosca and Suor Angelica

A thesis submitted to the

Graduate School

of the University of Cincinnati

on November 26th, 2007

In partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

Master of Music, Music History

In the department of Composition, Musicology, and Theory

at the College-Conservatory of Music

By

James Massol

BM, Bassoon

University of Cincinnati, June 2004

Committee Chair: Dr. Mary Sue Morrow

Abstract

This thesis analyzes the treatment of religious themes in the librettos and scores of

Giacomo Puccini’s operas Tosca and Suor Angelica and explores Puccini’s own experience with religion. While it is difficult to draw sound conclusions about his beliefs from contemporary sources, we can infer a general ambivalence to the institution of the Church. The librettos of both operas, though, contain a clear subtext of anticlericalism, contrasting the forces of theocratic tyranny and love, and this theme reflects the anticlerical sentiments prevalent during Italy’s

Risorgimento. To underscore the textual polarity, Puccini employed liturgical topics and dissonance in the music for the antagonists and sentimental, romantic styles for the protagonists.

Thus, the scores have an active role in shaping the narrative. Finally, this thesis concludes by addressing whether or not there is more to deduce about Puccini’s own faith from the analysis of both operas.

iii

iv Table of Contents

Introduction………………………………………………………………………………..1

Chapter One……………………………………………………………………………….4

Chapter Two……………………………………………………………………………...20

Chapter Three…………………………………………………………………………….43

Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………….68

Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………..71

Appendix…………………………………………………………………………………78

v Introduction

Giacomo Puccini is widely regarded as Italy’s last great opera composer and the

final word on opera-house success. Puccini scholarship, though, is more problematic,

long suffering from polarized debate—Joseph Kerman’s jibe about Tosca being only the most memorable: “That shabby little shocker…no doubt admired nowadays mostly in the gallery.”1 But with more thorough work from Mosco Carner, Julian Budden, and others,

scholars are paying more objective attention to one of the nineteenth and twentieth

centuries’ most significant theater composers.

One aspect of his life, in particular, that has been overlooked is his experience

with religion. Having grown up in Lucca, “the city of one-hundred churches,” Puccini was exposed to Catholicism throughout his childhood. 2 Furthermore, he came from a

long line of church musicians and was on course to follow that career himself. But he did

not choose this path, instead pursuing a secular life in the theater. By not following this

tradition, Puccini exhibits a trend in nineteenth-century Italian culture away from the

Church, which suffered from Risorgimento anticlericalism.3 John DiGaetani writes, “For

the intellectuals of the Risorgimento, the Pope and the Catholic Church were seen as

enemies of a secular and independent Italy. These historical events were occurring during

Puccini’s childhood, and he must have been affected by the dominant intellectual

1 Joseph Kerman, Opera as Drama: New and Revised Edition (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988), 205.

2 “La città delle cento chiese” is a common Lucchese saying.

3 David I. Kertzer, “Religion and Society, 1789−1892,” in Italy and the Nineteenth Century, ed. John A. Davis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 181−205.

1 movement of this period.”4 Whether this socio-cultural environment directly influenced

Puccini is hard to know, but the political background was shaping the lives of most nineteenth-century Italians. It has been shown, for example, that Verdi’s views were influenced by the Risorgimento, and it is no intellectual leap to assume that Puccini had similar exposure to this ideology.5

With this context in mind, one can begin to view Puccini’s operas as an expression of time and place, namely fin-de-siècle Catholic Europe. Although situated in a variety of settings, La Boheme, Tosca, La Rondine, and Il Trittico all exhibit the contemporary cultural milieu, ranging from the lower classes to the Catholic hierarchy.

The operas that deal explicitly with religion, however, are Tosca and Suor Angelica, which simultaneously present both their own historical context and that of Puccini’s Italy.

Although Tosca is a tour de force of drama, passion, and violence, the story is presented over the background of a corrupt religious environment. The plot revolves around Cavaradossi and Tosca’s relationship, while Scarpia, Rome’s Chief of Police with clerical ties, impinges on their lives, ultimately representing the lethal influence of

Church-State power. Suor Angelica is a milder work set in a convent and focuses on a mother’s maternal love. Like Tosca, the opera also depicts close ties between sacred and secular authority. After bearing an illegitimate son, Angelica’s family forced her to enter the convent. Thus, the plots of both operas deal with anticlericalism and love to varying degrees, sometimes pitting the two against one another. Through a discussion of

4 John Louis DiGaetani, Puccini the Thinker: The Composer’s Intellectual and Dramatic Development (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 1987), 12.

5 William Albert Herrmann Jr., “Religion in the Operas of Giuseppe Verdi” (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1963).

2 Puccini’s experience with religion and a detailed examination of both operas, this thesis explores how religion is presented through the text and music of Tosca and Suor

Angelica. Although sacred themes are most evident in the librettos, Puccini’s musical setting adds another narrative level to the text, thereby influencing the interpretation of religion. Furthermore, applying this approach to Suor Angelica will shed new light on the discussion, which chiefly concerns Tosca and Puccini’s theatrical style.

3 Chapter One

Lucca or La Scala? Spirituality, Opera, and a Family of Church Musicians

“When I heard Aida at Pisa, I felt that a musical window had opened for me.” −Giacomo Puccini1

It should be acknowledged from the start that little is known about Puccini’s personal views on religion. He wrote no essay or definitive letter on the subject, but there are many small details that paint a picture of his beliefs. Born on December 22, 1958, just

three years before the unification of Italy in 1861, Puccini was raised in an era of Church-

State conflict as secular Italy was breaking away from Papal power. DiGaetani claims

that as a result of the Risorgimento, Puccini viewed the Catholic Church as standing in

the way of a united Italy, asserting excessive temporal power.2 For DiGaetani this

historical perspective plays a significant role in the creation of his operas. Concerning

Tosca, he writes, “The mixture of politics, Catholicism, and the sexual bargain of

Scarpia—offering Tosca her lover’s freedom in exchange for sex with her—provided an

irresistible combination to Puccini and his librettists.”3 But with Suor Angelica DiGaetani

takes his position to the extreme, noting that the dark imagery of the “dying day reflects

Puccini’s view of this repressive religion as a death-centered cult that has aligned itself

1 Mosco Carner, Puccini: A Critical Biography (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1992), 20.

2 DiGaetani, 21. “Puccini, like most Italians of the period, saw the Catholic Church as one of the principal stumbling blocks to the freedom and unification of Italy. In fact, the problems with the Church and the independent Italian state would continue until Mussolini’s famous conciliatory Lateran Treaties with the Catholic Church in 1929, which established Vatican City as the independent headquarters for the Pope and the Catholic Church. Before that, Italian Catholics (the majority of them) were torn between allegiance to an independent and free Italy and Catholicism.”

3 Ibid.

4 with the wealthy and powerful and serves their purposes.”4 Thus, DiGaetani takes clues

from the operas to justify a portrayal of Puccini as staunchly anti-Catholic.

DiGaetani, though, is only one voice of many, representing the most unqualified

side of the debate; and, as will be seen later, this categorical position does not agree with

Puccini’s own enigmatic statements on the subject. Others, like Susan Vandiver Nicassio

and William Berger, have studied Tosca from historical angles, contextualizing its

representation of religious authority, and have a more balanced interpretation of Puccini’s

relationship to his operas. In comparing Victorien Sardou’s play (Puccini’s source) and

the opera, Nicassio writes that Sardou “used religion as a contrast to political liberalism;

Puccini, who put no more faith in political liberalism than he put in the Church, presents

both Church and State as hostile, and ultimately fatal, to the individual’s futile struggle

for happiness.”5 She furthermore examines Puccini’s complex relationship with

Catholicism, noting that he admired one’s personal spirituality, once telling the priest

Dante Del Fiorentino: “I am just a poor Christian, Gonnellone. I need your prayers.

Whatever my sins have been I never lacked respect for the faith of my mother, and I

never joined any anti-religious organizations.”6 Hence a certain ambiguity about religion

and the Church is apparent in Puccinian discourse.

While most authors observe references to anticlericalism in the operas, they are

more guarded than DiGaetani and do not draw direct connections to Puccini because

4 Ibid., 95.

5 Susan Vandiver Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome: The Play and Opera in Historical Perspective (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 2.

6 Dante Del Fiorentino, Immortal Bohemian: An Intimate Memoir of Giacomo Puccini (London: Victor Gollancz, 1952), 178. “Gonnellone” is a nickname that literally means “big skirts,” referring to the robes that priests wore.

5 evidence of intentionality is limited. Moreover, these religious and political issues are not

the only focus of either opera and different interpretations are possible. Berger suggests

that Italian and French audiences interpret Tosca differently than do Anglo-Saxons,

explaining how English (and Germanic) observers do not hold the same cultural and

spiritual views to inform their understanding.7 From this perspective, Italians would

personally identify with the religious themes and recognize the struggle with clerical

authority while others may miss the anticlerical subtext of the librettos, focusing entirely

on the drama. One significant example is the restatement of “E lucevan le stelle,” which

ends Tosca. Kerman dismisses this love-theme finale as theatrical pandering,8 but Berger

sees it as the crucial final word on Cavaradossi and Tosca’s triumph over Scarpia.9 Thus,

even the conclusion of the opera can inspire divergent readings depending on one’s interpretive lens.

These varying interpretations of anticlericalism in Tosca and Suor Angelica

provide a foundation for this research. Because there is uncertainty to what extent

religion informs our understanding, approaching the works from multiple vantage points

will help parse out the complex relationship of love, religion, and anticlericalism.

Furthermore, a detailed survey of Puccini’s experience with religion will help contextualize the discussion. Although some individual points may seem minute, taken all together these facts help expose an especially opaque aspect of the composer’s life.

7 William Berger, Puccini Without Excuses: A Refreshing Reassessment of the World’s Most Popular Composer (New York: Vintage Books, 2005), 291−321.

8 Kerman, 15. “Once again, this loud little epilogue is for the audience, not for the play.”

9 Berger, 319−20.

6 The most explicit information on Puccini’s religious positions comes from his

life-long friend Pietro Pancihelli.10 As a priest Panichelli was interested in Puccini’s beliefs and confronted him about them one day. In his memoir he recounts the afternoon luncheon at Torre del Lago:

We entered, during lunch, into a discussion of religion, and I hazarded the somewhat blunt question: --Do you believe in God? --What a conversation! Why shouldn't I believe in God, if after all they all do? I believe also in Jesus Christ, but a little in my own way, and not completely as you all do. And here we began a lively discussion on the basis of those common subjects, of which I realized that Puccini felt all of the beauty of a Christian faith and maybe also catholic, but that he had neither the conviction nor the force (will?) to follow it until the final consequences. He was after all a believer but not a practicer, having remained in him that which San Paolo calls a dead faith. He nevertheless had great respect and veneration for those religious sentiments that his mother put into his heart as a young man; and he never forgot, as a Lucchese, that he experienced his first emotions and first attempts in the art of music in the churches of his native city…. --Give me again, dear priest, the faith that I had as a boy and I'll give you Tosca. I don't feel it anymore, because one doesn't improvise (feign?) faith nor buy it. One feels it…. It is therefore evident that Puccini did not have, to his displeasure, the ancient faith of his ancestors anymore.11

10 DiGaetani discusses Puccini’s relationship with two priests, Panichelli and Del Fiorentino: “Both priests concern themselves with Puccini as a religious man, and both report a cynicism toward religion on his part…. Del Fiorentino reports getting into trouble with his superiors for being a friend of Puccini and defending him.” DiGaetani, 81−2.

11 Pietro Panichelli, Il “pretino” di Giacomo Puccini racconta (Pisa: Nistri Lischi, 1939), 86−7. “Entrammo—durante il pranzo—anche in questioni di religione, ed io azzardai la domanda un pò cruda e risoluta: --Ci credi in Dio? --Che discorsi! Perché non debbo credere in Dio, se in fondo ci credono tutti? Credo anche in Gesù Cristo, ma un pò a modo mio, e non del tutto a modo vostro. E qui incominciammo una discussione animata in base a quei luoghi comuni, dai quali mi accorsi che Puccini sentiva tutta la bellezza di una fede cristiana e forse anche cattolica, ma che non aveva né il convincimento, né la forza di seguirla fino alle sue ultime conseguenze. Era in fondo un credente, ma non era un praticante, essendo rimasta in lui quella che San Paolo chiama una fede morta. Ebbe tuttavia un grande rispetto e una grande venerazione per quei sentimenti religiosi che gli aveva messo nel cuore la sua povera mamma fin da giovinetto e non dimenticò mai, lui lucchese, di aver provato le prime emozioni e i primi cimenti dell’arte musicale nelle chiese della sua città natale….

7 Of course a certain level of skepticism is necessary regarding this account, which was

published sixteen years after Puccini’s death. But if Panichelli’s memory is accurate, then

his experience confirms Puccini’s ambivalence to religion, which becomes apparent from

the sum of all the details. Moreover, Puccini’s own admission of losing his childhood faith is the strongest statement about his religious views.

A more reliable, first-hand source for examining someone’s beliefs is their writings. After perusing scores of letters, one can see that Puccini expressed his personal feelings rarely and only to a few people. His letters do not contain many deep references

to spirituality or politics. The most intimate exchanges were with his sister Ramelde and

focused largely on everyday topics, often including whimsical and affectionate

passages.12 With most other family members and friends he would recount the mundane

activities of his life and success of his operas. There are, however, a few moments in his

letters of great passion and sensitivity, especially in times of tragedy. With his mother’s

illness, brother’s tragic death, and his own car accident, in particular, the tone of the

letters deepens, and the human, loving side of his personality comes through. In some of the most emotional letters, discussions of spirituality also emerged. One notable example occurred after the death of his brother, Michele, when he grieved to Ramelde: “God knows that you all have consternation, but not like me, I am finished, this was the knock

--Ridammi, caro pretino, la fede che avevo da fanciullo e ti regalo la Tosca. Oramai non la sento più, perché la fede non si improvvisa né si compra. Si sente…. È dunque evidente che Puccini non aveva più con suo dispiacere, la fede antica dei suoi antenati.” Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own.

12 Simonetta Puccini explains, “Ramelde and Giacomo grew up together. Both children were lively and fun-loving, and their affectionate intimacy is evident in their correspondence, which was virtually unbroken until Ramelde’s death.” Simonetta Puccini, “The Puccini Family,” in The Puccini Companion, ed. William Weaver and Simonetta Puccini (New York: W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1994), 24.

8 of grace and I believe that here, in this tremendous event, time will not be the usual

tranquilizer.”13 While this example says little about his own faith, Puccini nevertheless

acknowledges the existence of Providence. Otherwise, most of Puccini’s own references

to God are rhetorical or even in vain. Writing to his friend Raffaello, he exclaimed,

“Manon continues to triumph everywhere and, God willing, the money will come!”14 His letter to Ramelde in 1904 might even show prior indifference towards the Church: “I have been reading the Bible. Reading it is an extraordinary thing.”15 Since at the time he

was recovering from a traumatic car accident in 1903, his Bible reading might have been

an attempt to reconnect with religion as people often do in dealing with hardship and

depression, possibly demonstrating that he did not read the Bible much previously.

There are also second-hand contemporary sources—albeit less reliable than first-

hand accounts—which could inform this discussion. By far the strongest references to

religion come from his sister, Iginia (Suor Giulia Enrichetta), who lived in a Lucchese

convent. After Puccini’s automobile accident, which severely injured his leg, Iginia wrote

to their sister Tomaìde about Puccini’s life, suggesting that his accident could have been

a sign from God because he and Elvira, who was married to another man, were living in

sin:

Listen, Tomaìde, I’m opening my heart to you: Jesus did not send this blow in vain; one could believe it to be an announcement of his justice, but instead I believe that it may be a part of his mercy that he loves

13 A. Marchetti, ed., Puccini com’era (Milan: Curci, 1973), 159. “Dio sa che costernazione avrete tutti, ma non come me, io sono finito, questo è stato il colpo di grazia e credo che qui, in questo caso tremendo, il tempo non sia il solito calmante.” This is a letter from Puccini in Milan to Ramelde in Pescia, sent in the middle of April 1891.

14 Ibid., 193. “Manon continua a trionfare da per tutto e, se Dio vuole, vengono i denari!” This is a letter from Puccini in Milan to Raffaello in Pescia, sent at the beginning of February 1895.

15 Ibid., 300−1. “Leggo la Bibbia. Leggila è una cosa straordinaria.” This is a letter from Puccini in Torre del Lago to Ramelde in Pescia, sent on 19 April 1904.

9 [Giacomo] and doesn’t want to lose him. You need to try to help him; as I have told you, I have done that which I can from here, but you other sisters, who are outside and can speak with him, have to do everything to insure that he comes back to his duty of being a good Christian.16

Iginia then implored Tomaìde: “Also you, Tomaìde, go there sometime, tell also Ramelde and Otillia, all of you try to be missionaries and bring his soul to the breast of Jesus.”17

Although this tells us nothing about Puccini’s personal beliefs, it does indicate that Iginia

did not consider Giacomo to be faithful to the conventional practices of Catholicism.

Therefore, while we do not know anything specific about his religious observance, like if

he attended mass or made confession regularly, the limited evidence about his faith

suggests that his attitude toward the Church was at best ambivalent.

We do know, however, that Puccini grew up in a town and with a family closely

allied with the Catholic faith. He was raised in Lucca, a bastion of conservatism that

boasts a rich commercial history and strong religious heritage. Once thriving as the

second largest trading center after Venice, in the nineteenth century it became a

commercial backwater but retained its Catholic orthodoxy. Moreover, the city put on

numerous religious festivals, including the Feast of Santa Cecilia, for which the Puccini family composed music. On 29 April 1877, the young Puccini had his Plaudite, populi

performed in honor of San Paolino.18 Thus, as a deeply religious city, Lucca long held a

16 Ibid., 266. “Sentimi, Tomaìde, a te apro il cuore: questo colpo Gesù non lo ha mandato invano si potrebbe credere un avviso di sua giustizia, ma io credo invece sia un tratto di sua misericordia ché l’ama e non vuole perderlo. Bisogna cercare di aiutarlo: io, come ti ho detto, faccio quel che posso di qui, ma voialtre sorelle che siete fuori e potete parlargli, avete a far di tutto per vedere di farlo rimettere nel suo dovere di buon cristiano.” This is a letter from Iginia in her convent in Vicopelago (near Lucca) to Tomaìde, sent shortly after Puccini’s car accident in 1903. See also: Simonetta Puccini, 22−3.

17 Marchetti, 266. “Anche tu, Tomaìde, vacci qualche volta, dillo anche a Ramelde e Ottilia, fra tutte cercate di far le missionarie e riportate quest’anima al seno di Gesù.” See above.

18 Julian Budden, “The Musical World of the Young Puccini,” in The Puccini Companion, ed. William Weaver and Simonetta Puccini (New York: W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1994), 53−5.

10 tradition of sacred music, producing five generation of Puccinis, four of whom worked in

the church.19

The elder Giacomo (1712−81) played organ for many of Lucca’s churches, most

notably the Duomo di San Martino, which employed three of Puccini’s musical ancestors.

His great grandfather Antonio (1747−1832) followed Giacomo’s career path, succeeding

him by decree at S. Martino and composing numerous sacred works. Simonetta Puccini

describes Antonio as a “reputable organist” who worked in both sacred and dramatic

styles.20 If the elder Giacomo and Antonio did not suggest a musical family of world- class talent, Puccini’s grandfather Domenico (1772−1815) showed a higher level of

compositional prowess. 21 Like his father, Domenico worked in sacred music, but he also

found success with opera, writing five: Le frecce d’amore, L’ortolanella, Il trionfo di

Quinto Fabio, La scuola dei tutori, and Il ciarlatano. Therefore, Domenico represents the

first Puccini with theatrical flair, even adopting operatic styles for sacred music as his

grandson would later do. He was eventually appointed organist and maestro di cappella

at Lucca’s cathedral. Some of his sacred-music contributions include a Psalm (performed

later for Pope Pius VII), masses, and motets.

Domenico’s son and Puccini’s father, Michele (1813−64), took over the organist

position at S. Martino directly from his grandfather, finishing an unbroken line of

19 One event for which many family members composed was the ceremony of Lucca’s popular “Tasche”—the election of the Republic’s government. All of these occasional compositions demonstrate the generational prominence of the Puccini family in Lucca. Julian Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 2.

20 Simonetta Puccini, 6.

21 Domenico, who studied with Paisiello in Naples, also seems to have been highly regarded by contemporaries, appearing in Luigi Scotti’s nineteenth-century engraving of well-known musicians. Early in the nineteenth century Jacopo Chelini wrote, “Domenico Puccini surpassed all the others with his extraordinary lovely and harmonious style.” Ibid., 7.

11 Puccinis at the organ bench of Lucca’s duomo that began in 1740. Although not as

celebrated as Domenico, Michele eventually became the most accomplished organist in

Lucca and made some notable contributions to Italian sacred music, including eight

masses and the Ecce Sacerdos Magnus for 32 voices—performed for Pius IX.22 He also

traveled to Naples to work with Donizetti and Mercadante at the conservatory, but

because Michele studied with his grandfather Antonio, instead of Domenico, he focused

on sacred music.23 Carner describes Michele as “a composer of academic respectability

who excelled in the strict contrapuntal style of an earlier period and in the use of all

scholastic devices.”24 In the end Michele was most influential as an educator (he was

director of Lucca’s conservatory) and assembled treatises on harmony and counterpoint,

demonstrating his emphasis on traditional musical styles.25

This biographical sketch of the Puccini family underscores the context in which

Puccini grew up and accentuates his choice not to pursue the church-music career that his

family and the Lucchese community had planned for him. Carner points out that in the

eulogy at Michele’s funeral, Pacini described Giacomo as the “sole survivor of and heir

to that glory which his ancestors have earned in the harmonious Art and which perhaps one day it will be in his power to revive.”26 Furthermore, an official decree stipulates that

Magi, who replaced Michele, “should and must hand over the post of Organist and

Maestro di Cappella to Signor Giacomo, son of the aforementioned defunct master, as

22 Ibid., 9.

23 His only contributions to the theater were Antonio Foscarini and Giambattista Cattani.

24 Carner, 15.

25 He taught Fortunato Magi and Carlo Angeloni, both of whom became Puccini’s mentors.

26 Ibid., 17.

12 soon as the said Signor Giacomo is able to discharge such duties.”27 While two of his

family members composed successful operas, the tradition was as servants of the Church.

Puccini largely avoided sacred music, though, displaying little interest in religious

service.

For his education, Puccini was admitted to the seminary of S. Michele and then to

the cathedral on the path to become an organist and composer, as all of Lucca expected.

After hearing a performance of Plaudite, populi for baritone solo, mixed chorus, and

orchestra, the critic for La provincial di Lucca recalled the old adage: “Cats’ children

catch mice.”28 Carner writes that despite his father’s coaxing and the community’s

cajoling, Puccini never excelled as an organist:

He even developed an aversion to the instrument of his ancestors. Yet the tradition of the son succeeding the father was firmly established in the Puccini family; and Lucca took it for granted that Giacomo was to become an organist and choir-master, ready at the appointed time to fill Michele’s post.29

It is hard to know why he did not faithfully heed tradition, but the early death of his

father may have thwarted the weight of four generations to follow the family trade. In any

case, Puccini was not interested, instead choosing to take on the freer, though riskier,

realm of opera. Although many Italian composers pursued an operatic career at this

time—still the heyday of Italian opera—Puccini’s choice could also be read as slighting

both the family tradition and Lucca’s church establishment, in line with his religious ambivalence.

27 Ibid.

28 Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 8−9.

29 Carner, 17.

13 In his youth Puccini did actually free lance as an organist in local churches. He

was familiar with popular opera tunes, upon which he improvised in both sacred and

secular styles. One of his favorite pranks was to weave these hits into recessional fanfares

after the Mass, offending both priests and congregations. Iginia, who was about to enter

the convent, chastised him for this, but Puccini thought the postlude could be more

festive than service music. To this, Iginia reportedly rejoined, “But you are trying to

outdo the theater.”30 Through this exchange Puccini reveals his preference for dramatic

styles, foreshadowing his eventual career in the theater.

Puccini’s first operatic experience was Mercadante’s La Vestale, but on 11 March

1876 he walked the nineteen miles to Pisa for a production of Aida.31 The event proved

decisive for his career, about which he later stated, “When I heard Aida at Pisa, I felt that

a musical window had opened for me.”32 As one of Verdi’s most popular operas, and one that involves religious themes, it may have resonated with Puccini on multiple levels.

According to Herrmann, Aida “[depicts] clergy as an evil power—cruel, vengeful, blood thirsty, uncompromising.”33 This portrayal is evident in Act Two as the Egyptian troops return after having defeated the Ethiopians. While Aida and Amonasro plead for the King to show the prisoners mercy, Ramfis and the priests demand their death. Verdi contrasts these moods with agitated minor-mode music for the priests and a noble, major-mode setting for the prisoners. The most damning scene, however, comes when the clerics

30 Ibid., 19.

31 Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 4.

32 Carner, 20.

33 Herrmann, 158.

14 condemn Radamès to death, professing their belief in an angry god.34 Amneris curses this

cruelty, labeling the priests “criminals” who are “never sated with blood. And they call

themselves ministers of heaven!” She continues even more vehemently: “Oh priest, you

committed a crime! / Wicked tigers thirsting for blood / You have outraged both heaven and earth / You have punished where there is no guilt!” Amneris’s music is dynamic and impetuous as she implores the priests for mercy, but they respond with cold austerity.

Because Aida is set in Egypt and their god is Fthà, one could argue that Verdi was merely demonizing an exotic culture and its heathen religion. On a deeper level, though, the story can be read as a provocative allegory about Italian anticlericalism, particularly in the dichotomy between merciful subjects and vengeful priests. The passionate desires of Amneris, Radamès, and Aida starkly contrast the clerics’ militancy, which manifests itself throughout the entire opera.35 And by the end, although love, war, and religion all

play a role in the work, the cruel power of the priests eclipses other matters, conveying a

strong anticlerical theme. Taken all together, Aida is a grandiose, exotic, and viscerally

engaging piece, but one that also hints at deeper religious themes, a combination also

found in Tosca and Suor Angelica. Carner contends that Aida had a strong effect on the

young Puccini:

From what we know of his reaction in later years to the operas of other composers, Aida seems to have made on him the profoundest impression of all. As though in a flash, it revealed to him the direction in which his own talent was subconsciously driving him…. It may be that in that moment the idea was born in him to break away from the family tradition and launch out into opera and opera only.36

34 “Sotto l'ara del Nume sdegnato / A te vivo fia schiuso l'avel.”

35 From the first scene, Amneris and the priests encourage war with the Ethiopian army.

36 Carner, 20.

15 Although Carner does not mention the religious themes specifically, Aida might well have served as a model—or at least a precedent—for Puccini’s own operatic treatment of religion.37

But he still had one major religious work to compose before moving to Milan.

The Messa a quattro voci38 (1880) was his exit piece for the Istituto Musicale Pacini and exhibits an array of musical styles. Like his controversial postlude improvisations for area churches, this Mass combines secular and sacred music. Some movements contain counterpoint and chorale settings, carrying a severe and solemn tone, but much of the work sounds operatic with Italianate melodies, late-romantic harmony, and Verdian choruses. Certain commentators, like Michele Girardi and Budden, stress the unexceptional nature of these style contrasts, but the “Gloria” movement actually goes further toward an operatic style than previous works.39 With Rossini’s Stabat Mater and

37 Richard Specht also sees Aida as having a strong impact the young Puccini, whom Specht believes had a promising church-music career ahead of him: “It is an irony of fate that this ‘atrociously theatrical’ composer should have started his career under such non-secular auspices exclusively devoted to the service of the Church militant, whose requirements he met by countless chants, motets, and Masses; and it is doubly an irony that Puccini, as a composer of church music, should have reached his proud consummation not through these still somewhat impersonal and artless works, but in the ill-famed and thoroughly irreligious sphere of the theatre: the subtle music accompanying the solemn church ceremonies in the finale of the first act of Tosca, the innocent, ecstatic chants of the nuns and the tender exaltation of the music, painted, as it were, against a background of gold, that accompany the miracle in Suor Angelica, bear most emphatic witness to the heights that he would have been capable of attaining had he remained faithful to sacred music, and, above all, had he never made that pilgrimage to Pisa on which he heard Aida.” Richard Specht, Giacomo Puccini: the Man his Life his Work, trans. Catherine Alison Phillips (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1970), 34.

38 The Messa a quattro voci is sometimes erroneously titled Messa di gloria for its emphasis on the “Gloria” movement.

39 Budden states, “Its stylistic patchwork reflects the dilemma that affected Italy’s church music during the late nineteenth century. At a time when sacred and secular church styles were moving even further apart, her composers had long been content to incorporate theatrical elements alongside the time- honoured contrapuntal procedures deemed proper to a liturgical work.” Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 10. Girardi parallels this view of the Mass as “typical of that of an Italian operatic composer of the time. Nothing would be more unhistorical than to lament the lack of a specifically sacred style, as has been done with Verdi’s Requiem (1874).” Michele Girardi, Puccini: His International Art, trans. Laura Basini (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 17.

16 even Verdi’s Requiem, the overriding sentiment is more reverential. Verdi’s “Dies irae”

is certainly exhilarating, but it seems appropriate for the exceptionally dramatic requiem

text; and nowhere does Rossini’s Stabat Mater reach the theatrical heights of Puccini’s

“Gloria” from the Messa. In fact, the lack of virtuosic passagework in the Stabat Mater

plainly distinguishes it from Rossini’s typically flashy operatic style. Thus, on a scale of

sacred to theatrical styles, Puccini’s work leans further toward the latter.

Puccini’s Messa contains many dramatic moments, and the “Gloria,” in particular, combines chromatic harmonies with reflective passages, brassy fanfares, fugue, and chorale within just twenty minutes. After the “Kyrie” has established a reflective mood with close imitation typical for a religious work, the “Gloria” offers an animated style of triumphant declamation and fanfares beginning in C Major (Example I/1).40 The first

dramatic event is the chromatic passage in mm. 12−8 that ends on a vii°65/V in m. 19,

leading to an abrupt chromatic-mediant modulation: a ff tutti fanfare reinterprets the

chord as vii°7/bVII, or vii°7/V in Eb Major. An even more abrupt transition comes in mm.

53−67 with the start of “Et in terra pax.” Here, the harmonies move by ascending

chromatic sequence until m. 57, where a progression of common-tone-related chromatic

mediants arrives on V/vi in m. 59 only to move obliquely by common-tone chromatic

mediant once more to V in C Major in m. 62, resolving deceptively to bVI (Example I/2).

Now in the new key area of Ab Major, the texture changes to a chorale setting for “peace

on earth.” Far from smooth, these transitions are unsettling and negate any solemn air that

the work had acquired in the “Kyrie.”

40 All of the musical examples for this thesis are in the appendix.

17 The second half has an even greater density of contrasting styles and theatrical

gestures. “Qui tollis peccata mundi” is reminiscent of both chant and a Verdian chorus

through the unison bass line accompanied by generic operatic figures (mm. 206−41).

With the addition of contrapuntal voices in mm. 213−25, an ecclesiastical topic emerges

(Example I/3), but the bass melody quickly returns, remaining until m. 273. This texture

then transforms into a static, homophonic chorale for “Quoniam tu solus” (Example I/4).

The different styles finally come to a head with “Cum sancto spiritu”—an operatic finale

masquerading as a fugue (Example I/5). This finale demonstrates that even the sections

that employ fugue (often a sacred-music style) carry more drama than one would expect.

With a quick tempo, wide leaps, and metrically ambiguous accents (Cum San-cto Spi-ri-

tu) in the fugue subject, the music reveals a dramatic quality that moves beyond learned counterpoint. If the listener has not noticed the theatrics by the chromatic fanfares and

diminished harmonies in mm. 415−20 (Example I/6), then with the second entrance of

the Gloria theme in m. 440 he will certainly become aware. The dramatic moments in the

“Gloria” are plentiful, and with a heroic, boiler-plate conclusion one might expect an

operatic event (Example I/7), but instead we are only left with three more movements of

the Mass Ordinary.

It is difficult to read much into the Messa because there is no explicit narrative to

guide any analysis, and the inclusion of ecclesiastical styles might show a partial

adherence to church-music models. But the prevalence of romantic, theatrical gestures

nevertheless dominates. Therefore, Puccini used this liturgical work as a vehicle to

experiment with dramatic styles, underscoring the extent of his operatic slant. Not

employed by the church, he was free to compose as he wished; and it is hard to imagine

18 his father—scholar of counterpoint that he was—setting the Latin Mass text in this manner. As Girardi observes, “The Mass reveals the vividness of the imagination of a talented young man, who, with a long and vital family tradition behind him, managed to overcome its provinciality and laid the necessary groundwork on which to develop his natural instinct for opera.”41 Like his Marcie improvisations, it is as if Puccini was anxious to move on, disregarding stylistic norms for a flair much closer to that of La

Scala. He moved to Milan in 1880 to study at the conservatory with Bazzini and

Ponchielli and, with the encouragement of Giulio Ricordi, soon began his career in opera.

In conclusion, Puccini’s background is important for understanding his choice of an operatic career. Although he was raised in a family of church musicians, between his own religious indifference and the musical climate in Italy, he probably viewed an opera career as more fashionable and attractive than his ancestors. This background, however, must also be interpreted against the backdrop of the culture and politics of late nineteenth-century Italy, where a new democratic nation was emerging that valued civil authority over the Vatican. It is within this environment that Puccini’s talent developed, and it likely influenced his life decisions. Despite his initial education and employment in

Lucca’s churches, Puccini’s calling was the stage.

41 Ibid., 19.

19 Chapter Two

Anticlericalism in the Librettos of Tosca and Suor Angelica

While Puccini’s personal expressions of belief are limited and demonstrate a complex ambivalence to religion and the Church, the librettos of Tosca and Suor

Angelica mince no words in their anticlerical bent. Many scholars agree on the bias of these texts, and Italian audiences would have recognized the connections to contemporary political tensions resulting from the Risorgimento and its aftermath.1 Although the

Risorgimento encompassed a wide range of political and social reforms with Italy’s unification at its core, Catholic power became an important issue because the Church opposed strictly civil authority.

This conflict between the Church and secularists figured prominently in Italian politics from the mid-nineteenth century on. Nationalists in Torino (soon to become the capital of a united Italy) deplored clericalism as an absolutist ideology that stood against secular authority.2 These anticlericalists insisted on limiting Catholic supremacy and entitlements, campaigning to contain some religious orders and legitimize civil marriage.3 From the other corner of the conflict, Pius IX responded with a Counter-

Risorgimento fueled by his fear that the government in Torino was dominated by

1 Especially Nicassio, Berger, DiGaetani, and John Anthony Davis. John Anthony Davis, “The Political and Cultural Worlds of Puccini’s Tocsa: Anticlericalism in Italy at the Turn of the Century,” in Tosca’s Prism: Three Moments of Western Cultural History, ed. Deborah Burton, Susan Vandiver Nicassio, and Agostino Ziino (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2004), 135−46.

2 Frank Coppa, “Italy: the Church and the Risorgimento,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: World Christianities c. 1815−c. 1914, ed. Sheriden Gilley and Brian Stanley (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 240.

3 Ibid.

20 atheistic ideology that threatened to end his political control.4 Moreover, Pius resisted a

number of civil reforms, including secular education, and reversed previous decisions of more accommodating popes.5 After this conflict came to a head with the eventual

liberation of the Papal States, the Vatican lost broad political power, operating now solely

from Rome. Isolated and embittered, Pius denounced the unification, asserting his own

claim on temporal leadership.6 Ultimately his conservatism and ultramontanism

prevented a compromise with Italian liberals. This struggle, beginning in the

Risorgimento, would last throughout Puccini’s lifetime.7

As a result, many Italians adopted a middle road, termed “popular religion,” that favored Christian charity but disliked the Church.8 This approach was likely espoused by

Verdi and Puccini, both of whom maintained some amount of faith while rejecting

institutional Catholicism.9 Verdi was, in fact, the quintessential anticlericalist, living

every meaning of the term. He was openly faithful and advocated philanthropy but

consistently chastised the Church for corruption and autocratic rule. One notable quote

that sums up Verdi’s opinion is, “Your priests are certainly priests, but they are not

4 Ibid., 241.

5 Ibid., 245−6.

6 Ibid., 248−9. “Pius openly condemned whatever and whomever he deemed in error, regardless of rank, popularity, or power. He perceived himself the agent of truth and justice, which had been outraged and offended. His assertion that the church had to instruct, direct and govern the Christian world clashed with the liberal demand for popular sovereignty, and the nationalist call for the omnipotence of the state.”

7 Ibid.

8 Thompson describes the surge of independent European religious practices in: David M. Thompson, “Popular Religion and Irreligion in Countryside and Town,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: World Christianities c. 1815−c. 1914, ed. Sheriden Gilley and Brian Stanley (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 197−214.

9 If Panichelli’s account of his lunch with Puccini is to be trusted, then Puccini’s idiosyncratic view of religion seems close to Verdi’s.

21 Christians.”10 And regarding his writings, Hermann observes that Verdi was more

interested in personal expressions of faith than the outer trappings.11

This nuanced sentiment about Christianity and the Catholic Church also extended

to his operas, in which Verdi glorified the benevolence of Christian values while

disparaging the sometimes unholy deeds of clerics. Verdi presented this dichotomy in

two lights: positively when the priests were promoting goodwill and negatively when

exerting theocratic power.12 Aida (which Puccini saw in his youth) and Don Carlo show

priests at their worst—despotic and “blood thirsty.”13 Thus, Verdi’s operas present

Risorgimento anticlericalism as he experienced it, establishing a precedent for Puccini’s

own works.

This historical context serves to locate Tosca and Suor Angelica in their cultural

milieu. Far from isolated artistic endeavors, these works reflect anticlerical sentiments

prevalent in nineteenth-century Italy. While this chapter does not attempt to prove

deliberate allegories to specific historical events or even a correlation to Puccini’s

religious views, it does bring to focus the anticlerical tone of both operas through a

discussion of the most poignant dialogue. Although the scores of Tosca and Suor

Angelica ultimately influence the interpretation of these operas, the librettos by

10 Herrmann, 31.

11 Ibid., 135-6. “What concerned him was not the outward form of a man’s religious faith, but its inner substance.”

12 Ibid., 93.

13 Ibid., 158.

22 themselves present an image of theocratic tyranny that intersects with themes of art and love—the defining dichotomy behind the anticlerical subtext.14

From the Roman setting of Tosca and ascetic convent of Suor Angelica to the

oppressive clerics of both operas, a picture of theocratic tyranny emerges.15 But while

religion pervades both settings, the characters that exploit spiritual authority for

repression more importantly define the anticlerical subtext. Scarpia, Sister Zelatrice, the

Abbess, and Angelica’s Aunt all use religion to serve their own goals. In Suor Angelica,

Zelatrice and the Abbess work to control the convent sisters, and the Aunt is vengeful as

she continues to fume over Angelica’s past affair. Moreover, it is implied that the Aunt

and convent leadership are in collusion to keep Angelica cloistered, despite Angelica’s

desire to be with her son. The Aunt shows no compassion and is wholly unsympathetic to

Angelica’s isolation and grief. This story of familial strife, however, seems mild in

comparison to Scarpia’s violence and sadism. Ostensibly backed by the Church, he hunts

down political dissidents, tortures them, and pursues his own wanton desires. Moreover,

the Church-State institution, further represented by the Sacristan and Spoletta, is in line

with Scarpia’s designs and contributes to the portrayal of corruption. Therefore, through

14 It is important to note that while these operas address political issues not found in many other works, the plots do conform to the nineteenth-century genre of Romantic Opera, presenting love stories with antagonists and protagonists who eventually die.

15 The source for Puccini’s Tosca is the play La Tosca by Victorien Sardou. Set in June of 1800, it incorporates numerous historical references to place the story in the context of Napoleon’s liberal revolution. But overtop this political background, religious themes dominate Tosca’s libretto in many forms from the Roman setting and liturgical rites to the characters. As the papal seat and center for anticlericalism, Rome was the natural city for this opera because it served as a political base for assailing the intransigent papal nobility, or “black aristocracy,” which still dominated the municipal government. Moreover, anticlerical satire was a common theme for Roman entertainment, permeating theater repertories. Thus, Rome had an entrenched and intimate connection to politico-religious strife, making it an apt setting for Tosca’s plot. Davis, “Political and Cultural Worlds of Puccini’s Tosca,” 137−8.

23 the setting and characters, both operas present the Church as connected to an oppressive system.

Each act of Tosca has associations with the Church; the first is set in a central-

Roman parish, the second in a palace with papal connections, and the third shows St.

Peter’s and the Vatican in the background. Just in the course of Act I, there are references to the Madonna and Latin prayers, and Cavaradossi’s painting features Mary Magdalene.

But while these constant allusions sustain the religious setting, Scarpia’s cruelty and sanctimonious language dominate.

The first explicit mention of Scarpia is Cavaradossi’s description of him to

Angelotti: “Scarpia? Bigot-satyr who refines / with devout practices his libertine / lust and instrument! / to his lascivious talent / acts as confessor and executioner!”16 This most

damning portrait paints Scarpia as an unambiguous villain with broad power. The

language Cavaradossi uses is significant in bringing together Scarpia’s spiritual and

secular authority as both “confessor and executioner,” and this theme is further developed

in Scarpia’s own text in which he mixes religious imagery with lust and brutality. His

character is the most sharply defined, and even the times when he appears gentle,

particularly in his conversations with Tosca, he is merely feigning kindness to fulfill his

sexual goal. Throughout the course of the opera he is responsible for four deaths,

including his own.

Scarpia’s first line is a reprimand for the noisy celebrations in the church over

Napoleon’s defeat: “Such a din in church! / Fine respect!” His authority is evident from

the start, and for the rest of the opera he wields this sword with abandon. It is significant

16 Quotations from the librettos of Tosca and Suor Angelica come from: William Weaver, trans., Seven Puccini Librettos (New York: Norton, 1981).

24 that his first text shows his power even in the church because otherwise this chief of

police could seem like a purely secular character. Soon after his entrance Scarpia notices

Tosca and begins to pursue her. Using an explicit comparison to Iago’s deception, he

schemes to trick Tosca into thinking Cavaradossi is flirting with the Attavanti girl (from

the painting): “To reduce a jealous man to disaster / Iago had a handkerchief… / and I, a

fan!” Although there is no religious text here, Scarpia reinforces his association with the

Church in his call for the “Te Deum” chorus. In just the first few lines he confirms

Cavaradossi’s harsh description.

Scarpia intensifies his pursuit of Tosca by showering compliments and offering holy water. Nicassio calls this action “a finely balanced piece of hypocrisy and lust,” as

Scarpia shows no sincere regard for sacrosanct objects.17 Then, as the cardinal enters,

Scarpia proclaims, “Yours is a noble example. / From heaven, full of holy zeal, / you

draw the mastery of art / that enlivens the faith!” Finally, he relishes in his success: “(I’ve

achieved the effect.... Already the poison has eaten her.)” This passage is damning

because it shows Scarpia’s deceit in painful detail, replete with religious references as he

tries to lure Tosca through disingenuous compliments. When Scarpia admits that his

words are poison, he dissociates himself from the earlier religious text and therefore also

genuine faith. While Tosca is a believer, Scarpia only pretends to be in order to

manipulate Tosca.

The act culminates in a ritualistic celebration of Napoleon’s defeat, conflating

politics, religion, and Scarpia’s plan to seduce Tosca. Just after Tosca leaves and Scarpia

orders three policemen to follow her, he bows to pray and a cardinal begins the “Te

Deum.” This scene was not originally in the play, but Illica included it in the opera after

17 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 144.

25 Puccini’s insistence, demonstrating Puccini’s particular attention to the religious

environment.18 Against this liturgical backdrop, Scarpia further articulates his mania: “I

aim my desire at a double goal, / nor is the rebel’s head / the more precious. / Ah, to see the flame / of those victorious eyes languish / in a pang of love…. The one to the noose, / the other in my arms.” One of many sadistic lines in the opera, Scarpia appears to fantasize about both Tosca’s orgasm and Cavaradossi’s death together. Then the stage directions indicate for Scarpia to wake up as if from a dream, after which he crosses himself. Finally, in the most blatant anticlerical imagery, Scarpia shouts, “Tosca, you make me forget God!” as the clerics finish the act: “You, eternal father, all the Earth

adores.” Scarpia is presented now for all that he is: A man of the Church, of the state, and

in league with the devil. This characterization is important in understanding the

anticlerical subtext of the plot. Although Scarpia is not a cleric, one can reasonably

assume that his authority is connected to the Church as he seems to have control over the

religious ceremony and participates in it. Thus, the Church also appears corrupt.

In describing this scene, DiGaetani focuses on Scarpia’s hypocrisy, reinforced by

the ceremony in which “Church and state are at last triumphantly united onstage while the sheep-like masses pay homage in the background.”19 Nicassio puts an even finer

point on the spectacle: “We are left with the image of tyranny and erotic obsession

blended with and amplified by the power of the church.”20 As observed in the next

chapter, the music provides even greater intensity to the union of Church-State tyranny.

18 DiGaetani, 85−6.

19 Ibid.

20 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 168.

26 In all of Tosca, the conclusion to Act I shows this fatal relationship most explicitly,

thereby asserting a decisive anticlerical message.

Puccini’s interest in this scene, and thus the anticlerical subtext that it highlights,

is evident through his research for it. In search of a “Te Deum” chant he looked first to

his friend Guido Vandini for a copy of the Ecce sacerdos and then to Panichelli, neither

of which sufficed.21 Finally, in aggravation he wrote again to Vandini:

Tell the bishop that I need something and to invent it or else I’ll write to the pope and fine him like an idiotic employee. If you don’t get the verse I’ll write a funeral march of religion, tell that to the bishop. Find me the verse and if you don’t, I’ll become a Protestant, tell that to the bishop—I want the verse or else I’ll blaspheme my entire life, tell the priests that I’ll do it and nothing will stop me.22

According to Giuseppe Pintorno, the letter was written in a state of “much agitation” and

with “nervous strokes,” demonstrating Puccini’s frustration with the research and

suggesting that he placed a high value on the authenticity of the liturgical rite.23 One can

assume with reasonable surety that Puccini intended this spectacle to leave a lasting

impression, especially the image of Scarpia praying while also fantasizing about Tosca.

Act II takes place in Scarpia’s apartment in the Farnese palace—an aristocratic

setting with unsavory papal connections.24 To underscore Scarpia’s connection to Iago

21 Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 191.

22 Giuseppe Pintorno, ed., Puccini: 276 lettere inedite (Milan: Nuove Edizioni, 1974), 79. “Dì al vescovo che mi ci bisogna e l’inventi se no scrivo al papa e lo faccio multare come un impiegato imbecille! Se non me rimedi il versetto scrivo la marcia funebre della religione dillo al vescovo. Trovami il versetto se non lo fai mi faccio protestante dillo al decano—voglio il versetto se no bestemmio tutta la vita dillo ai preti che lo faccio vero dio.”

23 Ibid.

24 Nicassio describes how some Italians would have understood the environment for Act II, pointing out that Scarpia’s apartment at the Farnese Palace represents Bourbon authority. The sister of Alessandro Farnese, original owner of the palace, was having an affair with Pope Alexander VI; and on account of her, the Pope made Alessandro a cardinal. In 1534 Alessandro became Pope Paul III. Nicassio calls the palace, “A perfect symbol of papal magnificence and papal corruption, and a fitting setting for

27 from Act I, his opening soliloquy to Act II mimics Iago’s “credo” in its sinister ethos and

designs. But while Iago believes he was made by a “cruel God who created me similar to

Himself,” Scarpia’s confession has an even sharper sanctimonious edge. Nicassio

observes that Scarpia goes even further than Iago, showing a core of “savage perverse

eroticism.”25 He delights to himself, “Out of love for her Mario she will surrender to my

pleasure…. Violent conquest / has a stronger flavor / than mellifluous consent…. I

desire…I pursue / the thing desired, sate myself with it / and throw it away…directed /

toward new prey. / God created different beauties, / different wines. I want to savor / as

much as I can of the divine work!” This language goes even further than at the end of Act

I, because here he suggests violent sexual conquest, not seduction. Moreover, Scarpia

manipulates religious imagery to legitimize his desires, believing that he can sample

God’s creation, even if it involves rape. The text must be disturbing to audiences, but it is

dramatically necessary because it is the conflict that that will be resolved in Act III.

The Sacristan is a much less offensive figure than Scarpia, but nevertheless

represents the Church poorly. After being introduced as a buffo cleric, begrudgingly

washing Cavaradossi’s brushes, he immediately falls to his knees at the sound of the

“Angelus” bells to provide the first sacred text of the opera. The suddenness of this action

appears conditioned, and his recitation of the prayer is mechanical. This amusing

juxtaposition of the mundane and spiritual presents the Sacristan as an unflattering

Puccini’s dark vision of the power of the State allied with the power of the Church.” It is unlikely that the majority of Italian audiences would know this history or see the association to papal privilege, but some would. Most significantly, the connection demonstrates the depth of the anticlerical subtext. Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 181.

25 Ibid., 185.

28 religious character, who pays only perfunctory attention to the liturgy, and as the comic

foil to Scarpia in Act I.

The Sacristan is further satirized during Cavaradossi’s aria “Recondita Armonia,”

the first of two anthems to love, art, and human beauty. As Cavaradossi extols Tosca’s

physical allure, comparing his painting of Mary Magdalene (in fact a portrayal of the

Attavanti girl) to Tosca, the Sacristan grumbles in disgust, “Joke with soldiers / and leave

saints alone. / But with those dogs of Voltaireans / enemies of the most holy government

/ you can’t raise your voice.” Invoking Voltaire, who is associated with social reforms, is

significant because it shows the Sacristan is against secular rule and religious freedom

like Pius IX. Thus, the “Voltairean dogs” refers to Cavaradossi and everyone he

represents—atheists, political dissidents, and artists—who are all a threat to the Sacristan

and the “holy government.” DiGaetani reminds us, “It is the tyrannical power of the

Catholic Church and the Pope that is being attacked in the opera…. The pope, along with his murderous henchman Baron Scarpia, is the ‘santissimo governo’ that the sacristan defends.”26 While DiGaetani consistently presents the most severe positions of grim anticlericalism, his interpretation rings true on some level. There are diametrically opposing forces in this opera, and the text often supports this reading.27

There are other characters working in the brutal system that, although connected to the government, do not exhibit Scarpia’s pathology. As an accomplice to torture, assassination, and attempted rape, Spoletta represents the oppression by papal Rome, but

26 DiGaetani, 84.

27 Nicassio observes the same dichotomy: “Faith and Art are two rival systems for finding meaning in life, and we are left in no doubt about which one Puccini approves.” Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 137.

29 his character has another angle. Although Scarpia wants just two things, Angelotti’s death

and Tosca’s body, Spoletta shows a trace of humanity through his fear of Scarpia. When

Scarpia asks how the hunt for Angelotti went, Spoletta implores Saint Ignatius (founder of the Jesuits) for help with his response of failure. An even greater example of Spoletta’s distress comes with Cavaradossi’s torture. While Scarpia is using violence to blackmail

Tosca into revealing Angelotti’s hiding place and agreeing to sleep with him, Spoletta mutters a prayer. The dialogue is remarkable as Tosca asks Scarpia, “What have I done to you in my life?! / I’m the one you are torturing in this way…! / You torture my soul…yes.” Spoletta sees the evil and is moved, simultaneously saying the prayer, “So when the Judge shall sit, all that has been hidden shall be brought to light, and no wrong

shall remain unpunished.” Although an accomplice to the antagonist’s crimes, Spoletta

seems to feel remorse for the torture. He rightly predicts that Scarpia will eventually pay

for his sins, which suggests that Spoletta does not view Scarpia as a representative of

Christianity.

Just as with Tosca, Suor Angelica exhibits the contrasting forces of Church-State

power and Angelica’s compassion. Set in a late-seventeenth-century Italian convent, the

opera portrays the experience of a young nun who was forced into religious life after

bearing an illegitimate son. Angelica came from a privileged background, but her

adultery dishonored the family, which led to her banishment. Through associating

patriarchy with an ascetic religious order, Suor Angelica demonstrates anticlerical themes

by establishing collusion between nobility and the Church. Far from what Angelica

desired, the family took her son and sent her to a metaphorical prison for repentance. In

30 the end, after learning of her son’s death in an icy exchange with her Aunt, she

experiences a miracle and is reunited with her son in heaven.

The stage directions call for the interior of a convent with a chapel and cloister.

Although it is hard to justify DiGaetani’s extreme description of Catholicism as a “death-

centered cult,” morbid themes do pervade Suor Angelica from the nuns’ morose prayers,

onstage cemetery, and death of Angelica’s son to her own suicide.28 The plot comes close

to reality for seventeenth-century religious orders, which were used to cloister disobedient or dishonorable daughters.29 In accordance with the practice of “patrilinear

inheritance,” girls who could not be married for any reason were promptly sent to a

convent30 because beginning in the fifteenth century virginity played a central role in the

family’s honor code.31 This historical accuracy gives the story relevance. While

cloistered life had changed substantially by the twentieth century, the ties between secular and sacred authority remained, fueling anticlericalism. As DiGaetani sees it, the

“repressive alignment of the Church with the wealthy and powerful classes” is a constant theme of discord that permeates Italian history from the seventeenth century, through the

Risorgimento, and even today.32

28 DiGaetani, 95.

29 DiGaetani writes that these seventeenth-century convents “were used as a female penitentiary by wealthy families” for patriarchal repression of women who fell outside of the family code. Ibid., 94.

30 Marina Caffiero, “From the Late Baroque Mystical Explosion to the Social Apostolate, 1650−1850,” trans. Keith Botsford, in Women and Faith: Catholic Religious Life in Italy from Late Antiquity to the Present, ed. Lucetta Scaraffia and Gabriella Zarri (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999), 179.

31 Gabriella Zarri, “From Prophecy to Discipline, 1450−1650,” trans. Keith Botsford, in Women and Faith: Catholic Religious Life in Italy from Late Antiquity to the Present, ed. Lucetta Scaraffia and Gabriella Zarri (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999), 93.

32 DiGaetani, 94.

31 Suor Angelica begins with the “Ave Maria,” and in the text “Pray for us sinners, /

now and at the hour of our death,” the first association of religion with death appears.

This somber mood pervades the dialogue, creating a setting that seems too dark for a religious order, even though death, and the subsequent rebirth, is a central part of

Christian theology. Furthermore, the constant references to sin, also beginning with this prayer, show an obsession with penitence and guilt. But these supposed “sins” are minor.

During the penances, Sister Zelatrice chastises the nuns for missing the service. They respond, “I acknowledge my sin, / and I ask for a big penance, / and the harder it is, / the more I will thank you, / sister in humility.” This scene shows Zelatrice admonishing the sisters and novices for trivial offences, dealing punishments of prayer, work, and “time out” in the cell. The exaggerated language of “a big penance” and “the harder it is” demonstrates empty asceticism, which seems to stem more from fear than genuine repentance. In this convent, Zelatrice leads a petty hierarchy, using her rank to oppress the sisters.

This domination over the sisters is brought to a head with the entrance of

Angelica’s aunt, La Zia Principessa, who is the secular component of the Church-State alliance. Just before meeting with her aunt, Angelica is distraught and prays to heaven:

“O elect mother, read into my heart. / Turn a smile to the savior for me.” The petition underscores Angelica’s sincere religiosity because although she and other nuns pray, neither Zelatrice, the Abbess, nor the Aunt ever does so. Moreover, she invokes Mary, a symbol of grace, in contrast to Zelatrice’s and the Aunt’s merciless severity. As a result, the image of a repressive Church stands out against Angelica’s more earnest Christian faith.

32 The libretto describes the Aunt as a “black figure…composed in a natural attitude

of great aristocratic dignity.” Even her greeting with Angelica, supposedly a family

member, is impersonal: “Sister Anglica, moved, almost stumbling, goes towards her aunt,

but the old woman extends her left hand as if to allow only the submissive act of kissing

the hand.” Then, ignoring Angelica’s tears at this emotional moment, the Aunt

“deliberately looks straight ahead.” The Aunt’s actions are a sign of her status in the aristocracy, establishing her rank over Angelica in the family’s hierarchy, which is important in reinforcing the patriarchal system at work. It is precisely the lack of sympathy and unconditional love that brought Angelica to the convent in the first place.

With the Aunt’s entrance begins one of the most poignant exchanges between characters in Puccini’s oeuvre. The implicit conflict from their familial bond, strained by years of animosity, sustains an intense dramatic tension. The Aunt is callous and vindictive, more interested in official matters of the family estate than love and concern for a niece she has not seen for years. Even though Angelica requests her forgiveness,

“Be inspired by this holy place… / It is a place of mercy, / it is a place of compassion,” the Aunt is unsympathetic, reminding her how she “stained our white escutcheon…. I have retained for you only one word: / Expiate! Expiate! / Offer to the Virgin / my justice!” From this exchange we see that Angelica has done all she can to please the family and repent of her sin: “I have offered everything to the Virgin, yes, / everything! /

But there is one offer that I cannot make…My child! / The baby that was, that was torn from me! / My child, whom I saw and kissed / only one time!” To this heartfelt

outpouring the Aunt is silent. We immediately understand that she had no intention of

telling Angelica her son is dead until Angelica brought it up. It is significant, however,

33 that Angelica continues to describe the cloister with reverence, associating it with

“mercy” and “compassion,” even though her life in it has been isolated and incomplete.

The Aunt and Zelatrice have imprisoned Angelica and kept her from her son, robbing

what really matters to her. Moreover, it is probable that the money Angelica would

receive from the inheritance would go directly to the convent, which would be another example of the excessive control over Angelica’s life. Therefore, even though the Aunt does not attempt to physically harm Angelica, she is nevertheless a villain—perhaps

Puccini’s most subtle—because of her emotional torture. Carner calls the Aunt one of

Puccini’s “most successful essays in psychological portraiture,”33 and Budden asserts that

the Aunt is “as sharply etched as Scarpia or Rance.”34 The oppression she imposes in fact

has the same effect on Angelica as Scarpia’s does on Tosca—both heroines commit

suicide to escape their surroundings.

On the other side, in contrast to the cruelty of Scarpia, Zelatrice, and the Aunt;

Cavaradossi, Tosca, and Angelica represent a world of art and love. They all work

against the theocratic system, emphasizing the love in human relationships over

oppression. In Tosca this ideology first appears with Cavaradossi’s entrance, in which he

shows himself to be a spiritual outsider. As the Sacristan is reciting the “Angelus,”

Cavaradossi interrupts and casually asks, “What are you doing?” This scene is absent

from La Tosca, and it helps to illustrate Cavaradossi’s liberal philosophy, suggesting that

Puccini and his librettists were more adept at manipulating religious themes than Sardou.

33 Carner, 489.

34 Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 404.

34 To Italian audiences, Cavaradossi’s unfamiliarity with the Angelus would have been a clue to his secular worldview and thus creates distance between him and the Sacristan.35

The most complete characterization of Cavaradossi, however, comes with his aria

“Recondita Armonia,” in which he extols Tosca’s beauty through artistic imagery. He has been commissioned to paint Mary Magdalene, but models it after the Attavanti girl who comes to Sant’Andrea to pray. After the Sacristan complains about the painting,

Cavaradossi’s poetic language introduces his lover, Tosca, as an idealized beauty. He describes her as his “ardent figure” with dark hair and black eyes, whom he prizes over the Attavanti girl and therefore also Mary Magdalene. Different from the Sacristan’s perfunctory recitation of the “Angelus,” Cavaradossi’s heartfelt expression of love for

Tosca demonstrates that Cavaradossi values earthly, human ideas more than religious trappings.

Cavaradossi does not participate much in Act II, besides the torture scene, but he returns in Act III to join Tosca in expressing their mutual love before his execution.36 His

aria “E lucevan le stelle” is a bittersweet reminiscence of Tosca and conveys a deeper

love for her than he has previously done. But while “E lucevan le stelle” is crucial to the musical narrative, the text that follows the aria is more interesting because it utilizes untraditional religious imagery, even though Cavaradossi has thus far shown little respect for faith. He describes Tosca’s hands as “gentle and pure, / O hands destined / to good and merciful deeds, / to caressing children, / to gathering roses, / to praying, clasped.” In

35 “The fact that he does not recognize this most familiar of Catholic devotions would have sent a powerful message to Italian audiences in Puccini’s day.” Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 133.

36 Although Scarpia no longer exists, it seems Puccini wanted Act III, like Acts I and II, to still be associated with the Church. The libretto specifies for the set, “On one wall of the casemate a crucifix: before this, a lamp is hanging. To the right, the opening of a little stairway which leads to the platform. In the background, the Vatican and St. Peter’s.”

35 this text, Cavaradossi acknowledges Tosca’s spirituality, which is close to Verdi’s ideas

about Christian charity. In fact, in the first published libretto, Cavaradossi calls out to

Tosca: “Oh savior” (“O Salvatrice”).37 Nicassio suggests that with this passage

Cavaradossi has now outgrown his pride, revealing a gentler side as he recognizes

Tosca’s idealized form of faith that is wholly unlike the Sacristan’s or Scarpia’s.38 The

words “to praying,” in particular, remind us that Tosca is in fact religious, not just a benevolent humanitarian.39 In the end, Cavaradossi’s appreciation of Tosca’s spirituality

also connects him with her Christian values and there is hope that they will be united in

heaven.

But before Cavaradossi extols Tosca’s compassion in Act III, she distinguishes herself from the corrupt Church and State in Act II by displaying forgiveness, even in the

face of torture and attempted rape. Moreover, her aria “Vissi d’arte” highlights her faith,

which we have not yet seen so clearly. Of all the characters, each of which exhibits a different shade of religious devotion, Tosca comes closest to that which seems right: “I lived on art, I lived on love, / I never did harm to a living soul! / With a furtive hand / I assisted such unfortunates as I knew of. / Always with sincere faith / my prayer / rose at the holy tabernacles.” As a precedent to Act III, art and love are glorified by the protagonist as she questions God. She pleads to God for mercy because she has lived according to Christian values. Girardi sees her desperation, in particular, as the

philosophical foundation for the opera, “For Puccini has Tosca ask a most profound

37 Ibid., 238.

38 Ibid.

39 This distinction is important because it is in line with anticlerical ideology, which typically still accepts God but not the institution.

36 ethical and metaphysical question: if there is a God, why does he let the innocent suffer?”40 But even though her faith falters, this aria more importantly emphasizes the battle lines between corruption and true faith. If Girardi is right about the function of

“Vissi d’arte,” it is to the extent that Tosca associates Scarpia with a God who is contrary to the benevolent and forgiving God that she knows. Furthermore, Tosca strengthens her association with Christian charity by describing her altruism.

After “Vissi d’arte,” Tosca regains composure to stab Scarpia and prevent her rape. In a profound reversal from the fear and terror that lead to the killing, Tosca pronounces, “He is dead! Now I forgive him! / And before him trembled all Rome!” As one of the most memorable lines from Puccini’s operas, Tosca accentuates the dichotomy between herself and Scarpia; her forgiveness shows empathy and personal strength while he instilled fear. With this action, she secures her and Cavaradossi’s roles as the heroes who endure extreme hardships and overcome them. What follows is the most significant religious imagery of Act II, tying together this finale with Act I. The libretto calls for

Tosca to “repent” and retrieve the candles on the desk, which she places around the body.

Then, taking the crucifix, she “carries it religiously” and places it on Scarpia’s chest while kneeling. There are two possible interpretations of this scene—one satirical and the other sincere. On the one hand, Scarpia acts as an arm of the Church and placing the crucifix on his chest could underscore the irony, therefore representing another anticlerical message. But, knowing that Tosca is a spiritual woman who has just forgiven

Scarpia for his brutality, one could argue that she is paying respect to his soul in a sacred ritual.

40 Girardi, 87.

37 Girardi supports the former opinion with the premise that Tosca killed Scarpia out of desperation because God would not help her: “Through the religious ceremony that she enacts at the end of the act, Tosca implicitly blames God for the murder. Her placement of the crucifix on the body suggests that He, who did not answer her in her desperate need, is ultimately responsible for the death.”41 But what of Tosca’s forgiveness? Nicassio indeed suggests a deeper level of religious imagery from Scarpia’s death to the end, based on compassion for a man she has killed. She argues that Scarpia, without a word of repentance, has been damned for his lechery, which was a profound matter that needed resolution in an environment “where death and pain were acceptable, but damnation was a supremely serious matter.”42 Nicassio calls Tosca’s pantomime

ritual an “impromptu requiem” that would make sense to a contemporary Italian

audience.43 Although this ceremony may seem odd to modern audiences, it closely

resembles the funerary customs of eighteenth-century Rome, which probably contributes

to the “subliminal power” of the ritual.44 Therefore, the finale serves as a purging—first

of tyranny from Rome and second of Scarpia’s soul. This allegory to Risorgimento conflict is a provocative, if secondary, interpretation of the scene. Tosca is the forgiving character, and an Italian audience may have experienced catharsis with respect to the (at least partial) defeat of oppression after having endured decades of autocratic Church

power under Pius IX.

41 Ibid., 88.

42 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 218.

43 Ibid.

44 Ibid., 218−9.

38 The very end of the opera provides one final image of Tosca defeating Scarpia,

despite her and Cavaradossi’s deaths. After Tosca has realized Cavaradossi was actually

shot and the guards have discovered Scarpia’s corpse, she exclaims, “Oh Scarpia, before

God!” and leaps into the Tiber. This line (“O Scarpia, avanti a Dio!”) presents the image

of both Tosca and Scarpia standing before God in judgment of their sins and ties up a

thread that began in Act II when Spoletta muttered his Latin prayer: “So when the Judge

shall sit, all that has been hidden shall be brought to light, and no wrong shall remain

unpunished.” There is no doubt as to the outcome of this judgment, and Tosca’s final text

crystallizes the ultimate triumph over Scarpia and all he represents. As is demonstrated in

Chapter Three, this interpretation is underscored by the final statement of “E lucevan le

stelle,” representing victory over Scarpia’s tyranny.

Like Tosca, who stands apart from the Church through her forgiveness, Angelica,

also a sincerely religious character, separates herself from the convent leadership with

kindness and familial love. Early on, Angelica talks about earthly wishes (desideri), which nuns are not supposed to have: “Wishes are the flowers of the living, / they do not bloom in the realm of death.” These wishes, sometimes translated as desires, are unholy to Zelatrice. As Dolcina confesses to having a wish—tasty morsels of food—the other nuns reply, “Greed is a serious sin!” To the sisters, cravings are synonymous with pleasure and the body—a taboo subject. But Angelica has a pure desire to reunite with her son. Here we learn for sure that she was forced into the convent: “They chose to make her a nun, / it seems…in punishment.” Zelatrice does not comment on any of this, but we infer that she disapproves because of her earlier command: “We cannot have wishes / even when we are alive.” With the assumption that Zelatrice was complicit in Angelica’s

39 punishment, she would also frown on Angelica’s motherly desire. But Angelica’s wish,

based on love, is hardly a sin. Instead, she is prevented from being with her son because

of rigid patriarchal mores.45 By this point in the opera, the battle lines are clear between a repressive leadership and the compassionate Angelica.46 While most nuns submit to

Zelatrice’s commands, Angelica lives outside of this code, representing the archetype of a caring Christian. This interpretation is eventually confirmed after Sister Chiara is stung by wasps in the garden. The nuns immediately rush to Angelica for help because she makes healing ointments from her flowers. Sister Infirmaress informs, “Sister Angelica always has / a good remedy, made with flowers; / she can always find a blessed herb / to relieve sufferings!” And Angelica responds to their thanks: “I am here to serve.” Is

Zelatrice also there to serve? The implication is no. Therefore, Angelica exhibits positive traits of religion like empathy, humility, and kindness while Zelatrice is unforgiving.

Finally, Angelica’s greatest expression of her familial love arrives with the aria

“Senza mamma,” the most moving number in the opera. After the emotional exchange with her Aunt, when she learns of her son’s death, Angelica is left alone to mourn for her son, singing to him in heaven: “Without your mother, / O child, you died….” In this text she states that it was her absence that killed him, and his absence from her will also lead to her death. In an ecstatic state (estasi), Angelica plans her suicide in order to reunite with her son. After concocting a poison from her own flower garden she exclaims to the nuns, “My son has called me! / Inside a beam of stars / his smile appeared to me, / he said

45 Girardi writes, “Her right to motherhood is denied for the sake of the bigoted conventions of her class.” Girardi, 397.

46 Berger describes Angelica as operating on “a separate spiritual plane from the others.” Berger, 252.

40 to me: Mamma, come to Paradise! / Farewell! Farewell!” Then she embraces the cross

and drinks her poison. This act releases her from the ecstatic spell and she realizes her

error: “I gave myself death! / I die, I die in moral sin! / O Madonna, Madonna, save me!

Save me!” With her repentance, an image of the Madonna descends with her son and she

is saved as angels sing “Regina Virginum.”

This miracle scene has inspired significant criticism for its sentimentality and mix

of hallucination and mysticism. Although Carner finds the passage uninspired,

functioning merely as a theatrical trick,47 and Girardi sees it only as a “hallucination” induced by the poison,48 Italian Catholicism embraces miracles and mysticism, especially

through the power of the Madonna. Budden indeed suggests that to Anglo-Saxon

observers the scene may be especially discomforting because of Protestant resistance to

“Mariolatry.”49 The many references to Mary, however, are crucial to the anticlerical

discourse; as a symbol of purity and holiness, she epitomizes Christian charity through

salvation. Girardi asserts that the Madonna represents “peace and serenity” in opposition

to the powerful theocratic forces, and Angelica has a close relationship with Her.50 The

following text underlines her devotion to Mary: “How often have I prayed to you! Kindly you would receive my prayers and tears. Blessed Grace has descended!” Here, Angelica reveals the intimacy of her relationship with the Madonna. The connection between them is important because if Mary is associated with Angelica instead of the convent leadership, then Angelica’s holiness is reinforced. At the end of the opera, Angelica’s

47 Carner, 494.

48 Girardi, 413.

49 Budden, 403.

50 Girardi, 412.

41 salvation demonstrates that, despite her suicide, she found forgiveness in heaven, while forgiveness in the convent was not possible, thus completing the anticlerical discourse.

In conclusion, the librettos of Tosca and Suor Angelica present narratives that are closely tied to Risorgimento anticlerical philosophy. In nineteenth-century Italy, anticlericalism was one prominent aspect of the political reforms, and this aversion to religious institutions can be seen through the unflattering depictions of the Church and its leadership. From the image of a despotic Roman government to an ascetic convent linked with the patriarchy, the settings hold roots in Italian history. Moreover, Scarpia, Zelatrice, and the Aunt all exploit emotional and physical cruelty; each manipulates religious language to repress those under their control. As representatives of the Church, however, they should actually be much closer in spirit and demeanor to Tosca and Angelica.

Finally, while it is hard to know if Puccini and his librettists deliberately built a message into either opera, the subtext of historically based anticlerical ideology is pronounced, and these themes would have resonated with contemporary Italians.

42 Chapter Three

Opposing Spheres in the Scores of Tosca and Suor Angelica

Whereas Chapter Two examined the textual references to anticlericalism and how

they reflect Italy’s Risorgimento struggles, this chapter addresses the impact of music on

religious themes. Both operas can be seen as divided into opposing spheres, each

embodied by certain characters: Scarpia, Sister Zelatrice, and the Aunt-Princess for theocratic absolutism and Tosca, Cavaradossi, and Sister Angelica for art and love. On the textual level this contrast is apparent but does not tell the whole story. Instead, a two-

pronged approach that includes the score is necessary. The musical representation of the

Church-State conglomerate is characterized by liturgical styles and dissonant harmonies

in tandem, demonstrating the conflation of the Church with an oppressive state. In

contrast, though, Puccini employed a sentimental style for expressing love and art. This

active role of the music creates a narrative association between the score and libretto,

influencing an audience’s reading of both Tosca and Suor Angelica. Unlike his previous

operas in which lyricism reigned, Tosca needed a more varied compositional technique.1

But Puccini did not abandon lyricism in either opera. Instead, he used it as a tool for

representing particular characters and their ideologies.

Through an examination of liturgical styles and their relationship to secular,

“profane” music, this chapter describes the opposing spheres on the level of the score.

Identifying a sacred music style can be problematic, but certain idioms evoke strong

1 Girardi, 167.

43 religious topoi, including hymnody, church bells, chant,2 organ, modality, and stile antico

counterpoint. Though other styles can effectively accompany religious texts, these are the

most evocative of a patently liturgical topic. There is ambiguity, however, in the

representation of anticlerical themes with secular music in Tosca. Through the “Tyranny

Chords” and the Sacristan’s buffo music, Puccini portrays the clergy and Rome in a harsh, even sardonic light.

Tosca begins with three fortissimo chords—Bb major, Ab major, and E major— which many commentators label “Scarpia Chords,” but they represent something broader.

While this pervasive figure eventually accompanies many of Scarpia’s scenes, it first describes the church setting. Thus, the more general label of “Tyranny Chords” works better. Girardi, in fact, sees a particularly deep connection to the Church, asserting that the Ab (lowered seventh) is a modal inflection and therefore the first example of sacred music.3 The tritone span between Bb and E, however, is a more significant motive,

representing the diabolus in musica. Although the church is most often accompanied by liturgical styles, this opening passage associates Sant’Andrea della Valle with something ominous and possibly violent.4

Immediately following the “Tyranny Chords,” Angelotti enters. Running through

the church, he is accompanied by intensely dissonant, winding chromaticism that develops from the “Tyranny Chords” and again features the tritone (I/0/4−6/1; Example

2 While integral to the musical fabric, chant styles are difficult to codify in opera because repeated notes are all also associated with recitative. The context, though, can resolve this confusion. An opera like Tosca that deals with religious themes presents an environment for chant while another, like La Bohème, does not carry any expectation for liturgical music; it is more likely for the Sacristan or Spoletta to recite a prayer than Rodolfo. Other important factors to consider are modality and especially the text because recitative traditionally advances the plot while chant contains religious imagery.

3 Ibid., 160.

4 Ibid., 160−1. The tempo marking in measure four is Vivacissimo con violenza.

44 III/1). The tutti homorhythmic syncopated figure in measure four also seems to be related

to the first three measures, and this motive will return to represent the same sinister

quality as the “Tyranny Chords.” Moreover, this passage asserts the threatening

environment through its persistence. One could think that Angelotti has reached a safe

haven in the church, but each time the dissonance subsides it is followed by another

chromatic fragment, culminating in a final statement of the “Tyranny Chords”

(I/4/17−19). Thus, our first impression of Sant’Andrea is as a dangerous setting, where

Angelotti still must fear for his life.5

There are other statements of the opening motives, but three are especially

important for the narrative. Just before the start of the “Te Deum” bells, the syncopated

figure from measure four appears (I/80/1), beginning the musical and textual layering of

the liturgy with Scarpia’s obsession for Tosca, Angelotti, and Cavaradossi (further

described below). Then, immediately following the “Te Deum,” the “Tyranny Chords” return tutta forza as the choir and Scarpia finish the word “venerator.” These statements of the opening motives, flanking both sides of “Te Deum,” prevent the “Te Deum” from sounding genuinely reverential because we are reminded that the church is a dangerous location. Lastly, the end of Act II also incorporates the “Tyranny Chords” to symbolically show Scarpia’s death after Tosca has stabbed him. Now altered with an E-Minor triad instead of E Major, it is as if Tosca has extinguished the power behind these chords by killing the one who personified oppression. Furthermore, if Scarpia’s death functions as catharsis, which it may have to a contemporary audience, then this change to the

“Tyranny Chords” underscores the release from tyranny.

5 Budden also sees this association, viewing Angelotti “under the shadow of evil,” as if being chased by Scarpia himself. Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 199.

45 While the dissonant motives of the opening section characterize Scarpia as an aggressor, the sacred-music passages associate him with the Church. The first significant instance occurs with Scarpia’s entrance, when he uses the Attavanti girl’s fan (like Iago’s handkerchief) to make Tosca jealous (I/68/4−70/6). Here, bells begin an ostinato, underscoring Scarpia’s disingenuous compliments. As the text describes his hypocrisy the music reinforces this impression while he adopts the bell motive. Moreover, when

Scarpia implicates Cavaradossi and the Attavanti girl, whom Cavaradossi painted as

Mary Magdalene, the use of the brass makes the bell motive more prominent. This is the first time when bells are significant for the narrative construction, which Budden calls an apt setting for “Scarpia’s falsely pious insinuations.”6 Without this extra layer of meaning in the music, one might not associate Scarpia as strongly with the Church—an important element of his hypocrisy.

Liturgical styles underline the strong anticlerical subtext of the plot, and this point is no more obvious than in the finale of Act I (I/80/5). This scene, which starts with

Scarpia’s text “Tre sbirri,” also sets the mood with ostinato bells, this time announcing the “Te Deum.” Marked Largo religioso, this scene pits threatening sounds, like cannon shots, against overtly liturgical passages, creating a satirical portrait of Scarpia as the libertine “Bigot-satyr” who acts as both the “confessor and executioner” that Cavaradossi earlier describes. As the cardinal enters (I/81/1), an organ joins the texture to ensure a thoroughly religious setting. But Scarpia, with a “sardonic smile,” grossly contradicts the pious ritual as he revels in his plan for Tosca. The music to accompany this text also opposes the bells with parallel augmented triads that, in the strings, melodically outline

6 Ibid., 208.

46 the three possible fully-diminished-seventh chords and harmonically outline the four possible augmented triads, thereby incorporating the entire chromatic scale in the space of two measures—three seconds of music (I/81/5−8; See Example III/2 and Figure 1).

This passage, in particular, is a microcosm of the entire section, which uses dissonance

and liturgical styles in tandem to link the Church with Scarpia.

Figure 1. I/81/5−8, Strings:

C#°7 C# E G Bb A°7 A C Eb Gb F°7 F Ab B D C#°7 C# E G Bb

C#+ E+ G+ Bb+

The conflation of these disparate ideas is most terrifying when all of the musical

forces appear (I/83/6): the “Te Deum” chorus, organ, and bells in a blend of modality,

tonal color, and chromaticism. With Scarpia aiming his desire at Tosca’s love and

Angelotti’s death, the choir chants and the orchestra accompanies with chromatic lines.

The tonality is vague for many bars until Mixolydian emerges just before the “Te Deum”

chorus starts to sing (I/86/5). In the middle of the ceremony the chromaticism grates

against the chimes, passing through the keys of D Minor (I/84/1−8), Bb Minor (I/85/1−4),

and Bb Major (I/85/4−86/4). The effect of this tonal ambiguity is disorienting and might

represent Scarpia’s intensifying emotional state, described in the score as “renewed with

more ardor” (I/84/1) and “with erotic passion” (I/85/5).

Everything collides when the cannon shots explode, the chorus begins to sing, and

Scarpia proclaims, “Tosca, you make me forget God!” (I/87/9). With the bells still

oscillating F to Bb inside of a three-flat key signature, Bb Mixolydian is now established

as the scale, bringing to focus the sacred-music foundation of this ceremony. The

47 “Tyranny Chords” return at the climax (I/89/1; Example III/3), and one can finally hear

the first two of them in a modal context (as Girardi suggested about the beginning). The

sonorities connect to the previous section so seamlessly that they sound like the natural

conclusion to the “Te Deum.”7 Therefore, between the solemn religious ceremony, joined

by Scarpia’s sexual mania, and the closing “Tyranny Chords,” this finale encapsulates the

crux of the narrative—an intersection of faith and tyranny.

For this reason the “Te Deum” has inspired significant commentary from

scholars. Nicassio finds it highly effective, calling it, “One of the most pulse-quickening,

sweaty-palmed scenes in the entire theatrical repertoire. Effective though they are, the

torture, the attempted rape, the murder, the execution, and the suicide must take a

backseat to the sheer power of this finale.”8 Girardi also applauds it for integrating the

“concepts of Roman identity, sanctimonious faith, hypocrisy, power and corruption

within one semantic field.”9 But Carner takes a different view, seeing this finale as

“beyond Puccini’s power” and faulting him for having Scarpia sing the religious music.

For Carner it is a sign of Puccini’s penchant for spectacle, while the musical content

“required the genius of a Wagner or Verdi.”10

More than a “grand scenic spectacle,” however, this finale cements the conflation

of Church and State. While Carner recognizes the success of Puccini’s dramatic and

textual layering, his analysis falls short because he misses the vulgarity of combining

Scarpia and the Church together in a musical amalgam. The fact that Scarpia’s vocal line

7 Girardi sees the entire modal framework of the “Te Deum” as being dictated by the restatement of the “Tyranny Chords” on Bb. Girardi, 163−5.

8 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 166.

9 Girardi, 162.

10 Carner, 395−6.

48 “follows the religious music in the orchestra” is disturbing because he reveals his pathology with the same music as the organ—a distinctly sacrosanct instrument.11

Like in Act I, Act II features a section of sacred music juxtaposed with Scarpia’s text. While he is interrogating Cavaradossi over the whereabouts of Angelotti, Tosca and an offstage chorus sing a cantata background (II/13/5−19/1). In contrast to the onstage declamatory style, they sing homophonically with occasional points of imitation. This contrast of texture is important for separating the two worlds. Unlike the “Te Deum” in

Sant’Andrea, which associated Scarpia with the Church, the pious Tosca is singing this sacred music, and there should be no connection to Scarpia.

The feature that creates the most distance between these spheres, however, is the incongruent tonality between Scarpia and the choir. The broad tonal plan of the passage is from A Minor to C Major and back to A Minor. But while most of the harmonies coincide, the consistent return of a six-measure E-Minor motive (II/13/1, flute) in the orchestra and uneven phrasing separate the on- and offstage music areas (See Figure 2).12

Figure 2

13/1 14/1 15/1 5 9 16/1 5 17/1 5 18/1

Offstage: Am CM (Am CM) Am

Onstage: Am-X Am-X Am-X CM Am-X Am-X

Em Motive=X

A particularly strong example of dramaturgical dissonance, deriving from the contrast of these elements, comes at the end of the C-Major and the beginning of the second A-

11 Ibid.

12 The numbering for this section corresponds to the orchestra, and thus each bar of the choir has two measure numbers.

49 Minor areas (II/17/1−12; Example III/4). Just before Cavaradossi shouts back at Scarpia’s

accusations, “A spy’s suspicions,” and the choir sings, “The human anthem rises,” the

orchestra’s E-Minor motive obscures the choir’s transition between key areas. Although

this motive works as viiø7/V in C Major, its association with E Minor creates an

uncomfortable tension between all three keys.13 Therefore, the score articulates the

discord between Scarpia’s violence and Tosca’s faith.

Most of the negative characterization of the Church and State derives from

Scarpia, but the Sacristan and Spoletta also play a role. The Sacristan is a clerical figure

who provides comic relief, and his satirical portrayal contributes to the anticlerical subtext. He has two basic musical styles: his opening buffo theme and chant. His entrance after Angelotti has hidden himself (I/6/4) neutralizes the tension of Angelotti’s fleeing music with a lively tune in C Major. Emerging from winding chromaticism (I/6/1), the

Sacristan’s scene contrasts in several ways; whereas the previous section is tonally ambiguous and brash, this passage is consonant and jocular. The dancing 6/8 meter, staccatos, and his nervous tics, in particular, evoke the image of a grouchy buffoon. But by weaving in figures that are reminiscent of Angelotti’s theme, Puccini keeps the

Sacristan partially connected to the Church’s darker image (I/9/9−10/3; Example III/5).

The Sacristan’s “Angelus” is the first unambiguous example of sacred music

(I/13/1−16). Interrupted from his grumbling by three bell strokes, the Sacristan falls to his

knees and chants the prayer entirely on F. Although the passage exhibits no modality, the

liturgical text and tempo indication, Andante religioso, warrant the chant label. His action

seems mechanical, beginning abruptly after the comic introduction. Moreover, the

13 Budden labels this friction a “double perspective,” which serves to “reflect the situation: piety behind the scenes, brutality before our eyes.” Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 211.

50 completely static chant tone, accompanied by wandering harmonies and erratic dynamics,

makes the prayer sound rambling. Beginning in F Major, the orchestra meanders through

unresolved applied chords and, curiously, “cadences” from V7/bVI to iv6 (I/13/11) before

returning to F Major for Cavaradossi’s entrance. Nicassio believes this passage describes

“the sound of a man whose mind is wandering, whose ‘prayer’ is merely the meaningless

repetition of Latin syllables.”14 As the first musical characterization of religion, the

Sacristan’s scene is in fact the first clear example of anticlericalism in the opera.

Although he is not one of Scarpia’s henchmen, his bad attitude does describe an

institution without much purpose. Therefore, this section mildly exhibits the satire that

reappears in even starker anticlerical portrayals.

Spoletta is Scarpia’s right-hand man, but he also seems ambivalent about

Scarpia’s brutality. Soon after the cantata scene, Tosca arrives in the Palazzo Farnese and

Scarpia interrogates her while Cavaradossi’s screams echo in the background. As

explained in Chapter Two, this abuse of Tosca and Cavaradossi appears to move

Spoletta, who intones a Latin prayer about the final judgment of sin (II/38/2−6). While

Tosca asks what she has done to deserve such treatment, the musical texture unwinds and slips into D Phrygian, a mode that can express sorrow and desperation with the lamenting flat-two scale degree. The religious affect of Phrygian also underscores the prayerfulness of these pleas, as both Tosca and Spoletta chant in fear of Scarpia.

Act III tapers off regarding sacred imagery and music. While St. Peter’s and the

Vatican set the scene, most of the score emphasizes the sphere of Tosca and Cavaradossi

(discussed below). The Matin bells, however, announce the morning of Cavaradossi’s

14 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 133.

51 execution (III/4/1). It is another instance of the bell motif, which consistently evokes a

religious ambience. During this orchestral introduction, tinted with the ringing of church

bells, the firing squad escorts Cavaradossi to the casemate, and the last chime proclaims

the time for his death (III/29/18). From the crucifix on the wall and St. Peter’s in the

background to the sound of Matin bells, it is clear that Puccini wanted the Church to

remain part of the environment.15

While Tosca includes significant examples of sacred music, these instances are

largely contained in isolated sections. In Suor Angelica, however, liturgical styles set the

scene throughout most of the opera. Additionally, following the notion that sacred and

secular power are in collusion to imprison women who fall outside of the marriage

market, Suor Angelica also depicts the battling forces of tyranny and love through

musical means. To give voice to the two spheres, Puccini employs severe, declamatory

intonations for the convent leadership and unsettling dissonance for the Aunt, while

Angelica has the most emotional, passionate music. Thus, the function of sacred styles as

both the background and as the voice of oppression makes their function more

complicated than in Tosca.

The opera opens with an idyllic portrayal of cloistered life with bells, organ, and

choral hymnody (Beginning−3/1; Example III/6). The sacred music in this opening scene

does not advance any anticlerical subtext, but is instead a neutral representation of the

setting. The Sisters are singing “Ave Maria” in gentle counterpoint to the parallel triads

15 As with the “Te Deum,” Puccini performed research for this scene. He traveled to Rome and climbed the Castel Sant’Angelo to hear the sounds of a Roman dawn for himself, demonstrating his interest in the musical representation of religious imagery. Carner, 116.

52 that mimic the chimes.16 The scene is further idealized through a whistling bird, creating

the sense of a serene, pastoral environment. From within the chapel Angelica adopts the

sisters’ melody, now singing simply, “Pray for us sinners.” Throughout this opening

section there is little dissonance and no accidentals. The only contrapuntal unevenness

occurs in the delicate blend of the bells, bird, and choir. But if the beginning of this opera

shows a tranquil environment where nuns live carefree in happy communion with each

other and nature, then this setting can only deteriorate until the grim truth of absolutism

emerges.

As soon as Sister Zelatrice admonishes the sisters for missing the service, the tone

of the music changes (4/7; Example III/7). While she hands down their punishment, the

key shifts abruptly to E Phrygian with diminished octaves in the winds enunciating the

words “afflicted” and “sin.” The ancient church modes create a musical divide between

Zelatrice and the other nuns. The previous section is mostly in F Major, but Zelatrice distances herself from this pleasant mood through the severe sound of chant, ending with

two lowered seconds on the text “in mortal sin.” Furthermore, the orchestration of oboes

and English horn in close harmony with Zelatrice’s chant adds a strident tone to her

command. Then, the music moves abruptly to D Major for a joyful duet between two

Lay-Sisters, showing further contrast to Zelatrice. She follows up with more castigation, ultimately ordering Osmina to her cell for hiding roses in her sleeve (6/1). To conclude this section, a group of six sisters sings “Regina Virginum” (6/13). Within this section

(4/7−7/6), there is a pronounced difference between the domineering convent leadership and common nuns.

16 One interesting feature is the half step in the orchestra’s bell motive that imitates the slightly out-of-tune effect of church bells.

53 This thread is further developed in the Aunt’s scene.17 As a family member the

Aunt should show love for Angelica, but her reserved musical style instead underlines the distance between the women. Liturgical topoi and tonal instability, in particular, highlight their separation. The Aunt adopts a solemn chant style to address her niece while the orchestra accompanies with dissonant chorales in the winds, evocative of a distorted sacred style, helping to align her with the convent (44/1−45/13; Example III/8).

Moreover, similar to Zelatrice’s earlier chant accompanied by oboes and English horn

(4/7), the scoring of English horn with bassoons and muted French horns here adds an

edge to the Aunt’s tone. Then, in a depiction of sanctimony the Aunt makes the sign of

the cross to the sound of augmented triads with passing dissonance, contradicting her

reverent action (44/9). The constant tonal instability of juxtaposing the Aunt’s key of C#

Minor with interruptions of C-Minor chords and the accompanying chorale prevents C#

Minor from taking hold, keeping her at arms length (See Figure 3). To distort the

relatively stable C# Minor key area that the Aunt and basses use, the winds stack non-

functional half- and fully-diminished-seventh chords above their lines (Example III/8). At

the end the already unstable tonal environment unravels through more chromaticism and

modulates to E Minor, a distantly related chromatic mediant, for Angelica’s response

(45/15−46/1). The final cadence before Angelica’s entrance retains the instability by

passing through the non-functional chords VII (DM) and vi (Cm) before ending in E

Minor (Example III/8). Therefore, the tonal ambiguity and liturgical styles are significant

17 In preparation for her entrance, the Aunt’s music appears while the Abbess tells Angelica of her Aunt’s arrival (42/1). Employing the same downward shifts from C# Minor to C Minor, this introductory passage foreshadows the Aunt’s mood and music, drawing a connection between sacred and secular authority.

54 because they help characterize the Aunt’s indifference toward Angelica, reinforcing the

idea that she is more interested in family business than Angelica’s wellbeing.

Figure 3

43/4 6 7 9 10 44/1 3 5

Aunt/DB: C#m C#m C#m C#m C#m

Winds: Cm Cm−X Cm Cm−X

44/12 45/3 5 7 9 11 13

Aunt/DB: C#m C#m C#m(#vi/Em) V64/Em

Winds: Cm Dm C#m(#vi/Em) V64/Em (VII−vi; strings)

X = Distorting Chromaticism

Scholars find the Aunt’s persona and musical depiction close to Scarpia’s. Carner

describes her motives as “sinister,” and he compares her words to Scarpia’s torture.18

Girardi also sees the Aunt as a diabolical figure, near to Scarpia with her imperious demeanor. For Girardi the Aunt’s musical psychology is particularly impressive: “The vocal style is mainly declamatory and moves, snake-like, by step, creating the image of a motionless figure whom time has frozen in a past full of hidden rancor.”19 Although there

is no direct connection between Tosca and Suor Angelica, coming from different periods in Puccini’s career, the Aunt and Scarpia exhibit similar oppression.

After an angry exchange between the women, the Aunt regains her “cold and dignified manner” to chastise Angelica for her sin and command her to repent

(49/3−51/12). This language and music is evocative of Zelatrice’s own admonishments

18 Ibid., 490.

19 Girardi, 405.

55 with descending chromatic note repetition that is reminiscent of chant. Therefore, the

Aunt contributes to a negative reading of the sacred and aristocratic powers in this opera

being in collusion to oppress women who fall outside of a narrow family code.

The next scene provides the clearest window into Angelica’s psychological state

(53/1−59/14). In a biting passage that demonstrates Puccini’s wide compositional palette,

Angelica shouts hysterically over thoughts of her son and how he was taken from her.

Saturated with chromaticism and accented dissonances, this outburst releases the

emotional tension that has escalated throughout the Aunt’s scene. The most agonizing

moment occurs with the text, “My child, whom I saw and kissed / only one time!” Here,

the ostinato shifts from A Minor to the chromatic mediant C Minor, sending Angelica up

to a piquant Bb5 on the word “kissed” (53/8; Example III/9). 20 After the Aunt does not

reply to Angelica’s entreaties and reveals her son’s death, Angelica screams “with tragic

anxiety” to her Aunt, “Another moment of this silence / and you damn yourself for

eternity!”

In this bout of anguish induced by the Aunt, Puccini expanded the tonal world of

Il Trittico to the realm of intensely dissonant psychological representations (54/4−55/1;

Example III/10). Alternating whole-tone clusters accompany the above text, halting on a

complete whole-tone chord (built on F), colored by a chromatic flourish within a tritone

(55/1). Moreover, the “Aria dei fiori,” which was cut from the opera for pacing reasons,

21 would have extended this quasi-expressionist style through Angelica’s ecstatic trance

20 The pitch-identification system in this thesis labels Middle C as C4. All pitches between Middle C and the B above it are in group four, and those in the next octave below it are in group three. The pattern continues in both directions. Thus, one octave above Middle C is C5, and the Bb above that is Bb5.

21 The “Aria dei fiori” originally existed from rehearsal numbers 70 through 74, which are now missing in the score.

56 (Example III/11).22 One of the most pervasively dissonant pieces he wrote, the aria is a

glimpse of the torment she feels over her son’s death. We experience this whole scene

through Angelica’s eyes as the music conveys her mixture of anxiety, longing, and anger.

Thus, for this one passage Angelica adopts a dissonant sound world for an uninhibited

manifestation of her inner emotions.

Following the Aunt’s departure and “Senza Mamma,” the musical representation

of the convent becomes more idealized and sensitive to contrast the strident dissonance of

the Aunt. Angelica and a choir of sisters sing praises to the Madonna as they give thanks

for Her grace (63/1−66/1). This style is not the harsh liturgical topic of Zelatrice, but rather a more affectionate hymnody that underlines the warm relationship between the common nuns. As is seen throughout the opera, this choral style is associated with simple monastic life while the modal chant usually represents severity.

Suor Angelica concludes with the often criticized Miracle scene. After drinking

the poison, Angelica realizes her mortal sin and cries to the Madonna for salvation (78/3).

Throughout, an offstage choir has been proclaiming “Regina Virginum,” and all of this combines with organ and percussion for a heavenly march as Angelica reunites with her son (81/1). The choral writing becomes more contrapuntal (81/8) as the gates open and the chapel “blazes with mystic light.” This music, although a sacred style, is also pictorial; the pianos’ arpeggios, tremolando strings, and climbing violin melody evoke the ethereal scene portrayed on stage.

22 Although the narrowest definition of expressionism does not apply to this passage, Puccini seems to have borrowed from the early-expressionist style of Strauss’s Salome and Elektra, both of which use dissonance and atonality to portray the psychological torment of their title characters.

57 Scholars take issue, however, with this finale. Carner criticizes it as “pasteboard

religiosity” that does not extend beyond the confines of the stage spectacle. As usual, he

does not think Puccini’s skill was up to the task of conveying “mystic ecstasy and the

cathartic power of Divine Love.”23 As with Tosca’s “Te Deum,” he argues that the while

the theatrics are successful, the music is “neither stirring nor exalting.”24 Budden echoes

Carner’s critique, asserting that “the note of transfiguration” necessary for this event is

missing: “The exalted regions open to Verdi and Wagner were closed to Puccini.”25 It is important to note, however, that although there are spiritual themes present in reference to the Madonna and salvation, religiosity is not the true focus. Angelica cares more about her son than religion (especially the asceticism practiced at this convent). If heaven and the Madonna are truly involved, it is the heaven that Angelica and her son know, not

Zelatrice and the Aunt.

Moreover, Angelica’s own music exhibits this distinction (82/1−8; Example

III/12). Over the choir and organ’s contrapuntal texture, Angelica’s “O Madonna” rises above with an ascending arch broken by colorful leaps of a seventh until she reaches C6.

Her melody, “imploring and desperate,” contradicts the sacred music accompaniment, being inspired more by a desire to be with her son than God.26 Thus, in line with

Angelica’s passionate nature, the goal of this scene is to reunite with her son, which

resolves the human story that has propelled the drama from early on. Puccini, who

favored Suor Angelica, in fact said, “The story is really one of passion, and it’s only the

23 Carner, 494.

24 Ibid.

25 Budden, Puccini: His Life and Works, 405.

26 Girardi even describes the final sigh as “almost erotic.” Girardi, 414.

58 environment which is religious.”27 Therefore, like Tosca, Suor Angelica concludes with the music of the protagonist, demonstrating Angelica’s defeat of tyranny and liberation from the convent. And although Carner believes it to be artificial and Budden ineffective, the score exhibits a depth of emotion that transcends mere religiosity.

While the first portion of this chapter explained the musical characterization of tyranny, through the use of church styles and dissonance, the second discusses how non- sacred, “profane” music affects the interpretation of anticlerical themes in the context of opposing spheres. In Suor Angelica liturgical music pervades, painting a backdrop for the convent setting, and Angelica’s music often contrasts the modality and chant with a more sentimental style. In Tosca this model is similar as Tosca and Cavaradossi adopt a warmer, more melodic idiom than does Scarpia. Furthermore, the gripping performative aspects of the passionate style create a connection between the audience and the hero characters as they provide the most aesthetically satisfying arias.

Beginning with “Recondita armonia”—the first of Cavaradossi’s two full-blown expressions of love—secular music separates Cavaradossi from the Church

(I/17/1−19/13). The introduction announces this aria as embodying a different world with its organic growth from C4 to a woodwind melody tinged with Puccini’s characteristic exotic flavor.28 Much different from the fierce Tyranny Chords and asinine Sacristan,

Cavaradossi’s lush cantabile figures exhibit depth and flair. Moreover, with the high

tessitura, beginning on D5 and later peaking on Bb5, he quickly joins the pantheon of

tenor-hero roles. This effect is no more apparent than in the climax (I/19/10−13). While

27 Vincent J. Seligman, ed., Puccini Among Friends (New York: B. Blom, 1971), 324.

28 Exoticism in Puccini’s operas often derives from gapped scales and parallel intervals, here fifths and fourths.

59 exclaiming that Tosca is his only thought, the music reaches the first vocal peak of the

opera. In terms of an audience’s experience, this performative event—the first applause

opportunity—sets up Cavaradossi’s role as a protagonist. Thus, in this brief aria

Cavaradossi identifies himself with the sphere of art and love.

Paralleling Cavaradossi’s expression of love is Tosca’s Act II showstopper “Vissi

d’arte” (II/51/1). Although her music throughout the opera consistently emphasizes her

sensitivity in contrast to Scarpia, this reflection on her life is the companion to

“Recondita armonia” and “E lucevan le stelle” for its glorification of art. The only

character in the opera who forgives, Tosca shows herself to be compassionate, which is

articulated by colorations of religious music in the context of Christian charity.

Beginning with parallel first-inversion chords, the accompaniment suggests a

fauxbourdon style that Carner asserts is “manifestly intended to characterize the religious

Tosca.”29 Furthermore, it is possible to loosely connect “Vissi d’arte” to the Preghiera

tradition of arias that are sung by the hero or heroine in the face of danger. Although she is not seeking help from God, but rather questioning Him, her prayerful attitude

underscores her religiosity.30 As with Angelica, this ecclesiastical aura is wholly different

from that of Scarpia and the other clerics. Singing “very sweetly with much sentiment”

(II/52/1), she exploits her vocal range for a performative appeal that expresses warmth, if also desperation for her unfortunate situation. Throughout this passage the key is stable, without a hint of modality, and although her note repetition sometimes suggests chant,

29 Carner, 398.

30 Carner actually argues against the term “Prayer” for this aria because the text is inconsistent with the narrowest definition, being instead a “lament.” It may be better, therefore, to describe “Vissi d’arte” as a “rereading” of the Preghiera tradition because its dramatic function, coming before a moment of violence, is consistent. Ibid.

60 the expressive accompaniment and heartrending climax highlights Tosca’s charged

emotions. Moreover, the harp’s flowing triplet arpeggios, reinforced by winds and pizzicato strings, adds delicacy to contrast Scarpia’s declamatory style. Thus, the musical fabric of “Vissi d’arte” stands apart from the entirety of Act II as a glimpse into Tosca’s

tender, loving soul.

Puccini eventually came to agree with critics who believed the aria unnecessarily halted the action, but it is nevertheless an essential part of Tosca’s characterization. The

text and music both add a deeper level to the interpretation of Tosca. She moves beyond a

helpless victim and becomes a complex embodiment of the essential elements in this

opera: art, love, and religion. Nicassio writes, “Here art (in this case, music) is portrayed

as indistinguishable from religion, and both blend with romantic love into a typically

Puccinian mélange.”31 Therefore, as the only aria in the opera to express Tosca’s

ideology, it is crucial for the narrative.

The third act presents a more ambiguous expression of religion, art, and love as

these three elements intermingle in the text. Whereas the differences between the worlds

of Scarpia and Cavaradossi are magnified in the first two acts, the third focuses instead

on Tosca’s and Cavaradossi’s love, which has been so far underdeveloped. It is now the

musical style of our heroes that ultimately prevails, and Act III becomes their manifesto

for Risorgimento ideals.

Like the two previous arias, “E lucevan le stelle” interrupts time to reveal the protagonists’ thoughts before Cavaradossi’s execution (III/11/1). He has asked the jailer for some paper to write his “last farewell” to Tosca. After setting the scene with poetic language in a recitative fashion, Cavaradossi “is assailed by memories” and embarks on

31 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 212−3.

61 his fervent expression of love for Tosca. With broad, sweeping lines that have been

absent since “Recondita armonia,” Cavaradossi’s music revels in lyricism and colorful

dissonance. The appearance of these arching gestures (III/12/2), divergent from the prevailing declamatory style and sung “con grande sentimento vagamente,” is a sign of

Cavaradossi’s continued passion for Tosca. On the words “kisses,” “freed,” and “loved,”

in particular, he reaches melodic peaks to accentuate his devotion to her. In the most

poignant passage, “I die in despair,” sung with the direction “a bit labored with soul,”

Cavaradossi shows his distress through parallel accented sevenths against the bass

(III/12/10; Example III/13).

The aria takes just three minutes, but in that short time it provides the material for

dramatic resolution at the end of the opera. When the guards realize Tosca has stabbed

Scarpia, they come running after her and she jumps into the Tiber to escape certain

torture and execution. After the preceding passage of agitated, chromatic accompaniment

to Tosca’s agony over Cavaradossi’s death, the orchestra now bursts into a restatement of

“E lucevan le stelle.” Immediately following the last line of the opera, “Oh Scarpia,

before God!,” this aria reference answers the question of who will be spared or

condemned before God. But some critics fault the ending for being either pandering or

beyond Puccini’s capacity. For Kerman the final statement of “E lucevan le stelle”

encapsulates all that is loathsome about Puccini;32 and Carner also dismisses it, stressing

the “irrelevance” and “illogicality” of this aria closing out the opera.33 Carner believes

that the quotation is “devoid of any dramatic significance for the death of Tosca,” and he

32 Kerman, 19. “The orchestra screams the first thing that comes into its head.”

33 Carner, 408.

62 offers a handful of grimmer alternatives.34 As with many of his criticisms, he believes that Puccini succumbed to spectacle and “blithely sacrificed the musical dramatist in him to the man of the theatre.”35 With their analyses, however, Kerman and Carner neglect the narrative power of music. In order to end the opera on a note of optimism that acknowledges the enduring power of revolutionary ideology, Puccini had to give

Cavaradossi and Tosca the final word. This concluding statement of “E lucevan le stelle” is deliberate and exhibits conquest over Scarpia’s music and therefore also his despotism, demonstrating that not even deaths of Tosca and Cavaradossi can stop Risorgimento progress.

Suor Angelica presents a similar contrast to tyranny, if colored even more by religious overtones. Coming after sections unfavorable portrayals of the religious order,

Angelica’s music suggests an alternative by exploiting a sensitive and passionate style that diverges from the prevailing sound of chant. Her two arias, “I desideri sono i fiori dei vivi” and “Senza mamma,” show Angelica’s tenderness in detail, making her the more sympathetic sister as she longs to be reunited with her son.

In one of the most attractive moments from Il Trittico, the orchestra takes over from Zelatrice’s supercilious castigations to prepare Angelica’s first aria, “I desideri sono i fiori dei vivi” (8/1; Example III/14). Blossoming into the first lively music of the opera, this passage depicts cloistered life when Zelatrice is not browbeating the sisters. It is absent of liturgical clichés and employs pictorialism to heighten the staging. During this

34 Ibid. Carner would rather that “either the ‘Love’ theme in dissonant harmonics or suitably altered, the ‘Execution’ march or—perhaps most apposite—the ‘Scarpia’ motive as a last ironic salute from the grave would have been the logical conclusion of the opera.”

35 Ibid.

63 eight-measure interlude, the score depicts rays of sunlight peeking through the convent

walls. The arpeggios and rising tune in the cello and French horn, in particular, illuminate this image so that when the sisters acknowledge the event (9/2) the audience has already experienced it sonically. Moreover, the music employs dissonances and chromatic chords for a vivid, dramatic effect. Just before the cellos and horn reach their peak on E5, they suspend a C#5 through a D-Minor harmony (borrowed iv) in this A-Major section (8/7).

Although this minor-major-seventh sonority can be grating, the pictorial result in this

case suggests shimmering light. The same effect is achieved with the line “sunshine has

entered the cloister,” which is significant for its contrast to the convent’s ascetic image.

Through the tritone-related chord Eb Major the two levels of this text are accentuated: a

bright beam of light and the rarity of this event (9/7; Example III/15). Unlike the entire

introduction, which presents a simple hymn followed by modal chant, the gayer scene of

recreation is a breath of fresh air for this cloister and the audience.

This section concludes with Angelica’s aria “I desideri sono i fiori dei vivi,”

which foreshadows her death (16/5−17/7). The language is cryptic, explaining how only

the living have desires because the Madonna anticipates and fulfills them in heaven.

Through this text Angelica implicitly expresses her longing to be reunited with her son,

knowing that while she is alive that wish cannot be granted. Like the flowing arpeggios

of the earlier orchestral interlude, the violins and woodwinds rise and fall, loosely

following the contour of Angelica’s melody. The peaks climb ever higher until reaching

the climax for the text: “Death is beautiful life.” With this line Angelica intimates her

wish to escape the convent and go to heaven, where her one desire can be fulfilled. The

accompaniment underscores this image through its continued ascent as if towards heaven,

64 ending on a scintillating, fff half-diminished seventh sonority (17/5). Suddenly, this glorious mass of sound is interrupted by Zelatrice’s icy response: “We cannot have wishes / even when we are alive.” But Angelica’s musical style and passion for her son nevertheless remain more resonant as her role as protagonist becomes more clearly defined.

After learning of her son’s death and the departure of her Aunt, Angelica is left to confront the reality of her loss. Her son has been her only thought and desire throughout the opera, but now nothing is left. In a complete musical reversal from the excruciating sounds of her anguish, she sings a mournful aria to her son, “Senza mamma” (60/1). The first A-Minor section could be heard as a series of descending figures, suggesting a lament, and the Aeolian mode exudes desperation.

But the overall effect of this aria is not resignation, rather optimism, as she plans the reunion with her son. Following the downtrodden atmosphere of Aeolian with further flat-key inflections, her mood brightens to the sound of F Major (61/1). Angelica is now coming to terms with her son’s departure to heaven, looking forward to meeting him there, and the score seems to pull her in that direction with flowing arpeggios and a gradual ascent to A5 (61/22). Certainly the most moving passage in all of Il Trittico,

Angelica asks, “When will I be able to kiss you? / Oh! Sweet end of my every sorrow, / when will I be able to come up to heaven with you? / When will I be able to die? / When will I be able to die, be able to die?” Setting such emotional text must have been a challenge, but Puccini did it delicately with colorful harmonies that anticipate Angelica’s celestial ascent. Balancing between the closely related diatonic-mediant keys A Minor and F Major, the score shifts from an Fmaj.7 to V7/A that cadences to a vibrant V7b9/Dm

65 (61/17−62/1; Example III/16). Then extending this dissonance through the text “When

will I be able to die?,” the music moves through parallel G-Minor, F-Minor, and E-

Diminished sonorities over the pedal A, eventually settling back in A Minor for the

conclusion of this aria (62/1). The ambiguity between F Major and A Minor is especially

strong in this passage because F Major appears as a major-seventh chord, which includes

the A-Minor triad. Moreover, the V+ at the end of 61/22, which can function as a

chromatically altered dominant in both keys, contains both leading tones, G# and E.

Although they do not resolve conventionally to their respective tonics, the chord does

lead to Fmaj.7—the combination of both keys—making the polarity between F Major and

A Minor at the beginning of 61/23 particularly striking. Similar to Budden’s “double

perspective” from his description of the cantata in Act II of Tosca, the layering of both

keys shows the two levels of Angelica’s hope and sorrow that exist in the text “When will

I be able to die?” Finally, with devotion that extends the amorous imagery of “kisses” and

“caresses,” Angelica ecstatically calls out, “Speak to me, my love!” On the last repetition

of “love,” ending on A5, the harp plays an embellishing chromatic-chord arpeggio that

could be depicting Angelica’s ecstatic trance caused by the overwhelming anxiety over

the death of her son (62/9).36 Thus, it is with Angelica’s outpouring of emotion and

musical sensitivity that she is separated her from the convent leadership and her Aunt

(See Figure 4).

36 The chord does not have a strong function, but the voice leading suggests an embellishing augmented sixth with added #5 and b9. The chromatic motion in the upper voice, D−D#−E, with an F in the bass, in particular, supports this label.

66 Figure 4 (Tonal Plan for “Senza Mamma”)

60/1 6 12 18 Am: (Cm-Am) (Cm-Am) (Flat-key inflections: C9-Eb9-Cm)

61/1 17 19 20 21 22 23 24 62/1 9 FM: (Am Fmaj.7 E7 A7b9 C+ Fmaj.7 C maj.7-E 7) Am: (Emb.+6?)

Through this dichotomy audiences should interpret a conflict of ideology. Both the Aunt and Zelatrice demonstrate repressive attitudes through guilt and shame; while

Zelatrice punishes the sisters for trivial offenses, the Aunt demeans Angelica for staining

the family honor. But it is not the “sins” of Osmina or Angelica that represent evil, as

Zelatrice and the Aunt would maintain. Instead, the oppression by the religious and

aristocratic hierarchy epitomizes iniquity through patriarchal tyranny.

In conclusion, whereas Puccini employed ecclesiastical topoi in Tosca to connect

Scarpia and the police with papal Rome, in Suor Angelica this music characterizes the

ascetic-convent setting. In both cases, however, the religious milieu is contrasted with

images of love, manifested through lyricism. Girardi would agree, arguing that love

themes do not operate independently “but rather as a refuge from the tensions of a

difficult, oppressive life.”37 Therefore, the scores of Tosca and Suor Angelica paint the

Church in a negative light by contrasting it with the more appealing sphere of art and love. Although Zelatrice and the Aunt do not want Angelica to have desires and Scarpia tries to rape Tosca, both heroines triumph over this oppression through their expressions of love.

37 Girardi, 173.

67 Conclusion

This thesis has explored the religious issues in Tosca and Suor Angelica in addition to Puccini’s own faith. While Chapter One demonstrated that Puccini’s beliefs were ambivalent—neither devout nor atheistic—Chapters Two and Three detailed the numerous instances of religious imagery and anticlericalism throughout the librettos and scores. Based on the historically informed play La Tosca by Sardou, Puccini’s Tosca reflects the tension between secular and sacred life in Risorgimento Italy. And Suor

Angelica, though set in seventeenth-century patriarchal society, also exhibits the anticlerical sentiments that pervaded Risorgimento ideology, which strove to separate civil society from the Church’s temporal hold.

Through this discussion, we observed that liberal themes, emphasizing love and human relationships over oppressive law, were evident in the text. But more interestingly, the music contributes another level to the discourse. Scarpia’s hypocrisy, for example, is textually clear throughout the finale of Act I, but the score heightens this image through his sanctimonious expression of faith and sadism underscored by liturgical musical styles.

Similarly, Zelatrice’s use of modal chant and the Aunt’s unsettling tonal language put a fine point on their asceticism. Opposed to this sphere, however, is the softer and more passionate style of Tosca, Cavaradossi, and Angelica, all of whom provide the most sensitive and satisfying numbers. Thus, there is no confusing the two spheres because

Puccini put wide musical distance between them.

With this understanding of sacred themes in Tosca and Suor Angelica, we might ask what further there is to learn about Puccini’s religious thinking. The message of

68 Risorgimento ideology—supporting civil authority over sacred—seems obvious enough,

and it is hard to imagine that Puccini was not aware of the connection. Moreover, it is

reasonable to assume that Puccini wanted the liturgical music and “Te Deum,” in

particular, to dominate the narrative space, so when audiences left, the anticlerical themes

were their principal remembrance.1 The question then becomes: To what extent does the anticlerical subtext represent Puccini’s own possible disdain for Catholicism?

Nicassio is guarded, recognizing Puccini’s complex life experiences. Puccini was

not a virtuous man, having lived out of wedlock with Elvira while carrying on other

affairs; but on the other hand, he was raised in a conservative town by a pious mother

whose faith he always respected.2 The connection Nicassio does see to Puccini regards

the expression of artistic and political ideals: “Puccini, son of a troubled new Italy that had been born in conflict with the papacy; Puccini, the artist in a civilization that had traded tradition for progress and looked to Art as the language of the human spirit.”3

DiGaetani, though, reads even further, expressing the most categorical argument for a

strong relationship between Puccini’s “religious cynicism” and these operas. To him

Tosca represents Puccini’s vision of Catholicism as a murderous hegemony4 and Suor

Angelica depicts a “death-centered cult.”5 Certainly the operas describe a world of

1 It is important to note that while the music of Tosca and Cavaradossi ultimately wins out over that of Scarpia and the Church, the styles of the latter group dominate the space because more time in the opera is devoted to their musical sphere.

2 Nicassio, Tosca’s Rome, 2.

3 Ibid.

4 DiGaetani, 90.

5 Ibid., 95.

69 oppressive tyranny contrasted with human love, but DiGaetani goes too far. The convent

in Suor Angelica may be ascetic and gloomy, but no one is executed, as in Tosca.

Finally, it is unlikely that Puccini intended to reveal his personal beliefs through either opera, and it would be difficult to argue that he did because there is little discussion of religion in his correspondence and what exists is ambiguous. As theatrical works

Tosca and Suor Angelica are not Puccini’s personal manifesto, but rather more generally

exhibit Puccini’s and his collaborators’ perspective on Risorgimento Italy and its

politico-religious conflicts.

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77 Appendix

Example I/1; “Gloria,” mm. 1−6:

Example I/2; “Gloria,” mm. 49−62:

78 Example I/3; “Gloria,” mm. 206−18:

79 Example I/4; “Gloria,” mm. 273−9:

Example 1/5; “Gloria,” mm. 312−29:

80

Example I/6; “Gloria,” mm. 412−9:

81 Example I/7; “Gloria,” mm. 500−15:

82

Example III/1; Tosca, I/0/1−I/1/15:

83 84

85 Example III/2; Tosca, I/81/5−82/1:

86 Example III/3; Tosca, I/88/6−89/3:

87 Example III/4; Tosca, II/16/23−17/4:

88

Example III/5; Tosca, I/9/6−10/6:

89 Example III/6; Suor Angelica, I/1−6:

Example III/7; Suor Angelica, 4/6−5/5:

90

Example III/8; Suor Angelica, 43/12−45/13:

D#o7 D#ø7 Dø7C#ø7 C+

91

Em: V64 VII vi

92 Example III/9; Suor Angelica, 53/3−9:

93 Example III/10; Suor Angelica, 54/4−55/3:

Example III/11; “Aria dei fiori,” mm. 5−12:

94 Example III/12; Suor Angelica, 81/7−82/9:

95

96 Example III/13; Tosca, III/12/10−13/1:

97 Example III/14; Suor Angelica, 7/6−9/1:

98

99 Example III/15; Suor Angelica, 9/2−14:

100 Example III/16; Suor Angelica, 61/11−62/5:

101

102

103