Disguise, Deception and the Development of Haydn's Dramatic

Home , Aria (Image Comics), Domenico Fischietti, Dramma giocoso, Il mondo della luna, La canterina, La vera costanza

Disguise, Deception and the Development of Haydn’s Dramatic Voice in the Comic Operas of 1766-1777

A Dissertation

Presented to

The Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Brandeis University

Department of Musicology

Michael McGrade, Advisor

In Partial Fulfillment Of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Erin Walker Jerome

August 2011

The signed version of this form is on file in the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences.

This dissertation, directed and approved by Erin Walker Jerome’s Committee, has been accepted and approved by the Faculty of Brandeis University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of:

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Malcolm Watson, Dean Graduate School of Arts and Sciences

Dissertation Committee:

Michael McGrade, Department of Music

Allan Keiler, Department of Music

Peter Hoyt, Department of Music, University of South Carolina

2011

Acknowledgments

My entire dissertation writing process would not have been possible without the support of a vast network of friends, colleagues, mentors, and family. I might be the official author of this work, but, as my colleagues have often pointed out, writing a dissertation is a team effort. Unfortunately, I do not have the space to single out every person who merits thanks, but there are a few people who must get special mention.

First and foremost, I have to express my gratitude to my dissertation advisor,

Michael McGrade. He patiently worked with me as I gradually narrowed my topic from

“something to do with the influence of Italian comic opera on Classical style” to

“something to do with Haydn’s operas” to the finished product. While his close readings of all of my drafts in their various states of completion were certainly beneficial to the shaping of this work, it was our meetings and discussions that turned this dissertation into what it is today. He never hesitated to ask thought-provoking and often seemingly unanswerable questions that in turn made me return to my analyses and re-think my original hunches. This dissertation would not even be half of what it is today without him. Furthermore, I would not be half the scholar I am today without him.

Thank you to my other committee members, Professors Peter Hoyt and Allan

Keiler. I had the privilege of working with Peter as an undergraduate at Wesleyan

University and he was the one who inspired me to pursue a graduate degree in

Musicology. Like Michael, Peter never hesitated to ask me impossible questions that

iv have also helped shape the way I think about this topic and about eighteenth-century culture in general. Despite his aversion to Haydn’s operas, I am grateful that Professor

Keiler was willing to be my second reader. I hope that this dissertation will make him give these works a second chance. Thanks must also go to Professor Eric Chafe for suggesting that I look at Haydn’s operas when I began to flounder with my original topic.

Cheryl Nalbach and Mark Kagan also helped ensure that this entire process proceeded as smoothly as possible.

While I opted not to pursue an early music topic, Professor Sarah Mead did not make that decision an easy one. She has profoundly changed the way I think about and the way I perform music. Sarah introduced me to the thriving early music world here in the Boston area and I am grateful for all of the performance and teaching opportunities that she has given me. Not only is she a gifted teacher, but she is also a great friend.

Lois Widmer of LTS has gone from being my boss to being a close friend and confidant. She has tirelessly advocated for me, opening new employment opportunities and keeping me gainfully employed along the way. Her generosity never ceases to amaze me.

Of course my Brandeis and non-Brandeis friends deserve thanks as well. Alex

Ludwig and Georgia Luikens helped with the proofreading of the final draft, unearthing all sorts of embarrassing typos. Rob Pearson proved himself capable of sparking infuriatingly challenging musicological debates, being an excellent running partner, a special friend, and a highly skilled procrastination enabler. Michael Park provided wise counsel – both intellectual and technological. Ian Gendreau supplied the positive energy, new music, new experiences, and, most importantly, fun, during the final few months of

v dissertation writing. Simon and Clyde worked tirelessly as my editorial assistants. Jill

Rogers, Elizabeth Perten, Deidra Garcia, Rachel Cama, Mu-Xuan Lin, Joanna Fuchs,

Jacquelyn Sholes, Amanda Gadrow, Laura Shechter, and Amie Stewart have all been there when I needed them.

As for my parents, Ginny and Joel Jerome, I do not know where to begin. Little did we know that my first piano lesson at the age of five would lead to a lifelong study of music. They have been my greatest supporters throughout this entire endeavor. Whether

I required some tough love, an outlet to vent, last minute proofreading, or financial support, they were there. I certainly could not have finished this degree without them and

I hope that they know that.

This dissertation is dedicated to three women who I know would have been thrilled to share in this stage of my life: Aurora Stone, Lee Jerome, and Claudia

Kowarsky.

ABSTRACT

Disguise, Deception, and the Development of Haydn’s Dramatic Voice in the Comic Operas of 1766-1777

A dissertation presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences of Brandeis University Waltham, Massachusetts

By Erin Walker Jerome

In this dissertation, I explore the development of Haydn’s dramatic voice by examining moments of self-conscious performance and deception in four operas: La canterina, Lo speziale, L’incontro improvviso, and Il mondo della luna. These moments of deception shine a spotlight on the artifice of the operatic experience, while also illustrating Haydn’s ability to musically represent a character’s development over the course of an opera. My analyses show that the characters who succeed in their acts of deception are those who are the most self-aware, and this conclusion offers a new approach to ideas surrounding eighteenth-century self-perception. They also give us a new appreciation for the subtlety and sophistication of Haydn’s musical characterizations.

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments iv

Abstract vii

List of Musical Examples ix

Introduction 1

Chapter One Farce, Fraud, and Status Anxiety in Haydn’s La canterina 7

Chapter Two Lo speziale: Unmasking the Fool 40

Chapter Three L’incontro improvviso: Deceitful Dervishes, Hungry Servants, and Seria Characters in Disguise 89

Chapter Four Inner Space as Outer Space: The Imaginary Music of the Moon 137

Chapter Five Casting a Fool’s Utopia in Haydn’s Il mondo della luna 173

Conclusion 211

Bibliography 217

viii

LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES

1.1a Haydn's "Io sposar" (mm. 31-37) 21! 1.1b Piccinni's "Io sposar" (mm. 3-6) 21! 1.3 Haydn's "Io sposar" (mm. 42-47) 23! 1.4 Haydn's "Io sposar" (mm. 51-53) 24! 1.5 Haydn's "Io sposar" (mm. 77-85) 26! 1.6 La canterina Act I quartet, (mm. 32-39) 28! 1.7a “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 11-17) 33! 1.7b “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 22-26) 33! 1.8 “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 35-39) 34! 1.9 “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 61-75) 37! 2.1a “Caro Volpino amabile” (first version, mm. 24-38) 51! 2.1b “Caro Volpino amabile” (second version, mm. 1-18) 52! 2.2a “Caro Volpino amabile” (first version, mm. 39-47) 54! 2.2b "Caro Volpino amabile" (second version, mm. 18-24), Grilletta's suffering 55! 2.3 Lo speziale Act II finale (mm. 8-11) 63! 2.4 Lo speziale Act II finale (mm. 12-20) 64! 2.5 Lo speziale Act II quartet (mm. 40-46) 66! 2.6 “Salamelica, Semprugna cara” (mm. 1-15) 81! 2.7 “Salamelica, Semprugna cara” (mm. 30-37) 83! 3.1 “Castagno, castagna” (mm. 12-28) 109! 3.2 “Castagno, castagna” (mm. 29-36) 111! 3.3 “Noi pariamo Santarelli” (mm. 1-7) 116! 3.4 “Noi pariamo Santarelli” (mm. 19-27) 121! 3.5 “Castagno, castagna” (duet, mm. 66-67 127! 3.6 “Ecco un splendido banchetto” (mm. 6-12) 132! 4.1 Il mondo della luna Act II sinfonia (mm. 8-10) 153! 4.2a Il mondo della luna Act II sinfonia (mm. 1-15) 154! 4.2b Il mondo della luna Number 25 (mm. 1-8) 155! 4.3 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 1-4) 165! 4.4 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 41-43) 166! 4.5 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 43-49) 167! 4.6 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 51-55) 168! 4.7 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 56-61) 169! 5.1 “Begli occhi vezzosi” (mm. 66-74) 187! 5.2 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 66-72) 197! 5.3 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 78-82) 199! 5.4 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 115-131) 202

INTRODUCTION

Eighteenth-century opera buffa plots tend to center around acts of deception in which characters assume disguises or particular idiosyncratic behaviors, ranging from the employment of sentimental or seria “damsel in distress” behavior to dressing up as a

Turkish emissary in an attempt to get rid of a romantic rival. These acts of deception are almost always motivated by romantic aims.

Haydn’s operas are certainly products of their time, but a close study of his Italian comic stage works introduces us to characters who possess a sophisticated sense of interpersonal discourse. Haydn’s comic characters continually “perform” for each other—that is to say, they dissemble, impersonate, and deceive one another by taking on and casting off a range of musical styles along with their physical disguises. And they do so with greater and lesser degrees of self-awareness, thus interacting with both the audience and their fellow characters through complex, multi-layered meta-performances.

For the purposes of this dissertation, I define a meta-performance as a performance about performance. It is a performance by a character or group of characters, and the intended audience is another character or group within the world of

the opera. Taking this definition one step further, a meta-performance is a performance that is all about the self-conscious act of performing.1 Opera buffa characters who engage in a meta-performance are always fully aware that they performing; they have an understanding of the role they are trying to assume, and an appreciation for the expectations, needs, and vulnerabilities of their audience. As we shall see, only the most self-aware characters will succeed in these deceptive acts.

While the assumption of an actual disguise and the performance of music on stage

(which is therefore “heard” by the characters) are obvious examples of meta- performances, the adoption of generic musical tropes that are not native to a given character type is a more subtle kind. I refer to this less obvious kind of meta- performance, especially when it is used to deceive or mask an identity, as an

“idiosyncratic disguise”. If “idiosyncrasy” is “a way of thinking or a mode of behaviour limited to a particular person, people, or type of person; an individual mental characteristic; a view or feeling identified with a single person or people,” then an idiosyncratic disguise is one in which a character behaves in ways typically associated

2 with a specific generic character type other than his or her own.

The multiple layers to which I refer are the layers of meaning and reference associated with the various audiences at whom these performances are aimed. The first layer of the performance, that of actors playing characters, is for the audience. Within the context of this dissertation, the original intended audience was chiefly composed of members of or visitors to the Eszterházy court. The next layer of performance, that of the

1 Alice Bellini, “Music and ‘Music’ in Eighteenth-Century Meta-Operatic Scores,” Eighteenth-Century Music 6/2 (2009), 183. My definition builds off of Bellini’s definition of meta-operas as operas that are about operas. 2 “idiosyncrasy, n.”. OED Online. June 2011. Oxford University Press. http://www.oed.com.resources.library.brandeis.edu/view/Entry/91047 (accessed June 28, 2011).

characters performing for each other, is for both the characters themselves as well as the audience. This layer straddles the fictional world of a particular opera as well as that of the real world in which the audience exists. In this way, there are always at least two audiences to an operatic meta-performance. The purpose of these “performances” is then twofold; we the audience learn a lesson, but the characters’ performances also affect each other. The lessons that the audience learns are wholly dependent on a given character’s successful or failed attempts at deception. Within the context of these types of performance, the audience functions as what Erving Goffman, in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, refers to as a third party:

On the stage one player presents himself in the guise of a character to characters projected by other players; the audience constitutes a third party to the interaction – one that is essential and yet, if the stage performance were real, one that would not be there.3

At times the layers can be blatantly obvious, but Haydn’s disguise and deception arias are often unexpectedly subtle compositions, letting the audience, and perhaps the other characters, catch glimpses of weakness in the façade of a performer’s charade. My investigation of Haydn’s operas began out of the desire to understand these moments of weakness and musical incongruity, or as James Webster and Georg Feder describe it,

Haydn’s insistence on composing “‘against the grain’ of the genre or libretto to dramatic purpose.”4 I think it is safe to assume that Haydn’s audience members would have been familiar with the conventions of many musical genres, and would therefore be able to easily discern these moments of character weakness. I am not claiming, however, that such meta-performances are unique only to Haydn’s operas. In her discussion of

3 Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Garden City: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1959), preface. 4 James Webster and Georg Feder. "Haydn, Joseph." In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/44593pg9 (accessed July 6, 2011).

potential types of buffa aria endings, Mary Hunter addresses the performative nature of some arias, noting that

in their finalizing emphasis on performance, [some arias] also explicitly remind us of the artificiality of that illusion, of the conventions of performance, and of the fragility of the notion of plausible character in a medium that emphasized performance in as many ways as did opera buffa.5

Like Hunter, although her argument is genre- and not composer-specific, I believe that the techniques Haydn employs in writing these moments of disguise and deception help to draw attention to the artificiality of the genre – despite claims that opera buffa was more natural than its serious counterpart. It is in these glimpses of character weakness that we can see Haydn winking at the audience. At the same time, these performances also provide us with a new perspective, an eighteenth-century commentary of sorts, on specific facets of contemporary society. In this dissertation, I shall analyze four of

Haydn’s Italian comic operas – La canterina, Lo speziale, L’incontro improvviso, and Il mondo della luna – looking for these moments of deceit and dissembling within the larger generic context of eighteenth-century opera buffa.

The deceitful actions that occur in La canterina force us to view almost every one of the characters’ actions as some kind of performance, and therefore warn us not to accept or read any character’s actions at face value. La canterina’s performances prompt us to scrutinize the actors’ professions, thus making the performers themselves – and the operatic world, too – the obvious satirical targets. We, as the audience, know that we are watching an opera performed by actors portraying deceitful and untrustworthy characters who happen to be actors. Moreover, the characters themselves are aware of their untrustworthy reputations and “perform” as much for each other as for the audience.

5 Mary Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna: A Poetics of Entertainment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 109.

While Lo speziale is also satirical in nature, it shifts the focus away from the world of theatrical performers to a world that the protagonist can only experience through the daily newspaper and his imagination. Here we encounter a character who is so fixated on facts and trivia about faraway places that he is oblivious to the goings on that surround him. His obsession with exotic trivia also provides us with an eighteenth- century commentary on the role of exoticism in popular culture. It is his obliviousness to everyday life that makes him susceptible to the devious machinations of the other characters in the opera. Although he is surrounded by characters who literally assume disguises in order to deceive him, he unwittingly becomes the central performer of the opera, unknowingly masquerading as a man of knowledge, without even being aware of his role.

L’incontro improvviso provides us with a fully aware – and entirely devious – character whose entire existence is a charade. Here we have a character who has not just assumed a disguise for the sake of tricking a particular character during the course of the opera. Instead, he lives his entire life and, therefore, the entirety of the opera as an imposter. Yet, this character’s actions are so compelling that they fully seduce everyone around him, and he manages to become the central character in a work that should be focused on the reunion of separated lovers.

Il mondo della luna proves to be the culmination of all of the facets of disguise, deception, and dissembling that will be examined in La canterina, Lo speziale, and

L’incontro improvviso. This work features the same kind of foolish, oblivious protagonist that we will encounter in La canterina and Lo speziale. This particular character’s blown-up sense of self-importance allows the other characters in the opera to plan and

perform the most elaborate hoax that we will encounter in all of the operas. This hoax encompasses all of the techniques of illustrating deceit and dissembling that we have seen in the other operas – characters in literal disguises, characters speaking nonsensical made up languages, as well as characters employing particular idiosyncratic tendencies. Yet, the most exciting aspect of this elaborate charade is the fact that the characters create a wholly imaginary world that they use to fool the opera’s protagonist. Here Haydn can create an entire disguised world in which the already disguised characters engage in their performances.

CHAPTER ONE

FARCE, FRAUD, AND STATUS ANXIETY

IN HAYDN’S LA CANTERINA

Haydn’s first surviving comic work, La canterina (1766), provides a multi- layered critique of the eighteenth-century operatic world in which three of the four characters, each of whom happen to be affiliated with the theatrical world, never really stop “performing” for each other.1 The characters engage in an elaborate, and occasionally unknowing, game of pretend in which they assume the identities and/or personas that they believe will help them achieve their goals – whether those goals are romantic in nature or are related to a desire for fame, wealth, and success. In this way, the characters are actually assuming what I shall herein refer to as “idiosyncratic disguise”. As I have already defined it, an idiosyncratic disguise is one in which a character engages in a behavior typically associated with a specific generic character type. Significantly, that behavior may include the adoption of musical styles and musical

1 La canterina (1766) was an expansion of an intermezzo by Niccolò Piccinni. While the first documented performance of Haydn’s version occurred on 16 February 1767 in Pressburg (Bratislava), scholars believe that it was likely performed for the nameday celebrations of Count Anton in July of 1767. Caryl Clark, “Haydn in the theater: the operas,” in The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 178. H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, Haydn At Eszterháza, 1766-1790 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 123. Landon located an order for the payment of the four actors who performed in La canterina for a performance dated 27 July 1766.

topics or gestures associated with other character types. In La canterina Haydn skillfully mixes the registers of musical style to draw our attention to the questionable behavior of his characters. He thus provides us with a running commentary on opera singers, composers, and eighteenth-century operatic culture in general, while emphasizing the importance of self-awareness and self-identity. The characters who ultimately succeed,

Gasparina and Apollonia, are the characters who possess the greatest amount of self- awareness. As we shall see, self-awareness is often the key to an operatic character’s success in Haydn’s comic stage works.

Yet, this celebration of the importance of self-knowledge and self-awareness still remains couched within a greater criticism of performers in general. In fact, the greatest insult that Don Pelagio can hurl when he is at the peak of his rage is that his female lodgers are opera singers. He threatens to shout this from the balcony and the women shudder in fear of such exposure. Of course, eighteenth-century society’s deep distrust of actors and actresses is well known; Rousseau’s rather vicious section on actors in his

1758 letter to d’Alembert serves as just one example.7 In Rousseau’s opinion, the acting profession itself is full of people who submit themselves to disgrace by putting their person publicly on sale.8 Although the profession is open to both sexes, Rousseau treats actresses more harshly. They are even worse than actors, for they do not behave as modest and chaste innocents. Instead actresses are “audacious young persons, with no education other than in a system of coquetterie and amorous roles” and such audacity surely leads to shame.9

7 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Letter to M. D’Alembert on the Theatre, trans. Allan Bloom (Illinois: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1960), 75-92. 8 Rousseau, The Letter, 79. 9 Rousseau, The Letter, 90.

The plot centers around three characters: Apollonia, the manipulative stage mother; her aspiring diva daughter, Gasparina; and their landlord, maestro di capella Don

Pelagio.10 Don Pelagio is Gasparina’s voice teacher, but hopes eventually to move beyond the teacher-student relationship and make her his wife. Although Gasparina has her sights set on another potential suitor, Don Ettore (the fourth character), it is imperative that she feign interest in her teacher lest she risk losing her home and damaging her potential career. Unsurprisingly, Don Pelagio finds out about his romantic rival and the women must hatch a plan to avoid eviction. To further complicate matters,

Apollonia might not even be Gasparina’s biological mother. The libretto mysteriously refers to her as a finta madre.

While Gasparina is not necessarily immodest, she certainly is well-schooled in the art of being a coquette. Yet, it is the meddling stage mother Apollonia who proves herself to be the consummate performer, presenting us with a case in which the actual acts of disguise and deception occur on two levels. First, she is deceiving the other characters in the opera by pretending to be Gasparina’s mother, and second, she is patently ‘disguised’ as far as the audience is concerned because the role was written for and played by a man. Within the fictional stage world of La canterina, Apollonia’s gender is never called into question – she is clearly a woman. Yet, from the audience’s point of view, the travesty aspect of the role does add another layer of deception to the

10 Mary Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna: A Poetics of Entertainment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 35. Hunter writes, “Men announced in the cast list as misers, false philosophers, and old heads of households, and who are dignified (or mocked) with the title Don are usually dupes and sung by comic bass singers.” I suggest that Apollonia comes from the Italian apollineo, meaning Apollonian – sun-god, patron of music and poetry. Apollonian can also mean, “harmonious, measured, ordered, or balanced in character : of a rational or nomothetic nature fundamentally temperate, restrained, or meditative --- contrasted with dionysian.” Webster's Third New International Dictionary, Unabridged, Copyright © 1993 Merriam-Webster, Incorporated.

part. As Jessica Waldoff notes in her work on sentimental operas, “the single word finta

(pretend) creates suspense and seems to promise a moment of climactic recognition when all will be revealed.”11 However, there is no climactic moment; Apollonia never makes a grand revelation to the other characters of the opera. Perhaps the only thing this finta character has in common with typical finta characters is that her origins are unknown.

Everything about Apollonia remains a mystery, down to her biological relationship with

Gasparina. Based on the little we know about her, it would not be farfetched to believe that Gasparina is not the first “daughter” that she has coached on the stage. Yet, we never get any indication that Gasparina doubts her relationship with Apollonia and their relationship, while comic, never becomes an element of the plot. With this in mind, it is possible that Apollonia’s finta status is solely a reference to the casting of the character.

As I have already mentioned, we know from Haydn’s surviving libretto and

Piccinni’s score that both composers conceived of the part as a travesty role and that, in the case of Haydn’s version, it was originally performed by the baritone Leopold

Dichtler.12 As Mary Hunter notes, mothers are rare entities in Viennese opera buffa, La canterina being one of four operas that feature them during the second half of the eighteenth century.13 It should also be noted that one of these four works, Florian

Gassmann’s setting of Ranieri de’ Calzabigi’s L’opera seria (Vienna, 1769) features not

11 Jessica Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 104. 12 Piccinni’s libretto and score indicate that he too cast a man; it was the baritone Giuseppe Casaccia who played Apollonia in the premiere of that work. Unlike Haydn, Piccinni writes Apollonia’s parts in bass clef. Georg Feder notes that this tradition dates back to seventeenth-century Venetian opera writing, “Die Verkörperung der kupplerischen Alten, in diesem Fall Apollonias, durch einen Mann hatte in den komischen Szenen der italienische Oper eine lange Tradition, die bis auf die venezianische Oper des 17. Jahrhunderts zurückgeht.” See Niccolò Piccinni, La cantarina: intermezzo im III. Akt der commedia per musica L’Origille, 1760, with a foreword by Georg Feder (Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 1989), ix. 13 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 62. Hunter lists Puttini and Anfossi’s La vera costanza (also set by Haydn), Calzabigi and Gassmann’s L’opera seria, Piccinni’s La canterina (also set by Haydn), and Da Ponte and Martín y Soler’s Una cosa rara.

one but three meddling stage mothers and that one of these mothers, Bragherona, is played by a bass.14

By casting a man in the role of Apollonia, Haydn focuses our attention on the inherent artificiality of the genre from the audience’s perspective. The satirical nature of the libretto is not only enacted through Apollonia and Gasparina’s behavior, it is also emphasized by Haydn’s casting choices. In a world in which actors cannot be trusted, the sheer fact that the character of Apollonia is, in fact, a finta donna makes her doubly suspect as both an actor and a female impersonator. Her behavior helps to support this notion – she interferes in her daughter’s voice lessons, meddles in her love life, and ultimately coaches Gasparina’s final “damsel in distress” performance. Nothing about this character is subtle or, in other words, “Apollonian”; her behavior cannot be interpreted as anything other than conniving or scheming. Obviously, casting a baritone singing falsetto turns Apollonia’s opening aria “Che visino delicato” – an aria about the splendors of theatrical makeup – into broad comedy. I am not claiming that Haydn’s casting choice is a mark of originality, but rather that, in the case of La canterina, it strengthens the satirical slant of the libretto.

That “Che visino delicato” opens the entire opera is in itself significant. What better way to begin a work that expresses a mistrust of the operatic world than with an aria about the splendors of makeup – specifically theatrical makeup – sung by a man pretending to be a woman who in turn may be pretending to be a young virtuosa’s

14 See Hunter as well as Florian Leopold Gassmann, L’opera seria, with an introduction by Eric Weimar (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc, 1982).

mother?15 Although the audience would have been aware of the cast of characters based on their librettos, the audience must wait 60 measures before learning any more information about this character. Apollonia might simply be a vain middle-aged woman who is primping and preparing for her day, but her role as a comic character would have been obvious the minute she opened her mouth and sang her first notes in a manly falsetto. The aria has only a single line of text, and its sole content is praise for the new makeup that she has just discovered:

Che visino delicato che ti fa questo belletto; benedetto sia colui che l’inventò.

What a delicate complexion this new face cream gives you; bless the man who invented it.16

She gets so carried away with the thrill of her discovery that she allows herself an extended recitative at the aria’s midpoint (mm. 60-78). This recitative, which suggests a momentary forgetting of the premises of the aria, becomes the only lapse in an otherwise perfectly controlled performance.

The musical features of the aria indicate that Apollonia is a woman who prides herself on being able to disguise her true identity, while the text indicates how she physically – and therefore literally – disguises herself. Apollonia’s ability to conceal her identity ties in nicely with Edmund Goehring’s examination of sentimental characters and attitudes towards acting in the eighteenth century.17 In his discussion of the naturalistic school of acting versus the theories of Diderot, Goehring notes that both theories led “to the annihilation of personality: the one through the actor’s getting lost in a part, the other

15 Again, the question of Apollonia’s biological relationship with Gasparina hinges on our interpretation of the possible dual meanings of finta. Haydn keeps us wondering the entire opera, never giving us a clear indication of what is meant by Apollonia’s finta status. 16 Unless otherwise noted, all translations in this dissertation are my own. 17 Edmund J. Goehring, “The sentimental muse of opera buffa,” in Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, ed. Mary Hunter and James Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 115-145.

through chameleon-like behavior that arises from changing roles.”18 Who knows what lurks beneath those layers of makeup? Apollonia has fully thrown herself into the part of the overzealous stage mother. If anything, she is the consummate actor, more fully able to disappear into a part than either her daughter or the music master.

Musically, Haydn does not present us with any overt clues regarding the stage mother’s true identity or personality – no chinks in the musical façade per se – but that ambiguity supports the notion that Apollonia is a talented performer. Unlike the other characters in the opera, her performance is nearly flawless. Only a few rhythmically displaced measures and a recitative “outburst” indicate any potential reasons to mistrust her. Unlike Gasparina and Don Pelagio’s performances, Apollonia’s aria does not exhibit any dissociation between textual and musical affect – the major key of the aria does not do anything to undermine or complicate the most literal reading of the text. “Che visino” begins with a rather playful twenty-measure ritornello in a moderate duple tempo full of dotted rhythms. Haydn presents us with the A and B themes of a compound binary form.19 When Apollonia enters in measure 20, she sings the A theme for the first half of the text (Che visino delicato che ti fa questo belletto, [mm. 20-30]) while the B theme will always accompany the second half (benedetto sia colui che l’inventò, [mm. 30-37]).

Ever the gifted performer, Apollonia offers us an intimate glimpse of “real life” off-stage, while celebrating the joys of concealment and disguise. She is not what she appears to be; she is exactly what she appears to be.20

18 Goehring, “The sentimental muse of opera buffa,” 124. 19 The B theme is essentially the closing theme of the ritornello. See Westrup, Jack, et al. "Aria." In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/43315 (accessed October 10, 2009). 20 Piccinni’s version is also formally simplistic and includes a recitative “interruption”. It too is in a major key (B-flat major). Unlike Haydn’s version, it is slower in tempo (Andante) and features a smaller

After presenting both themes and all of the text, Apollonia cadences on the tonic in measure 57. At this point, it would be safe to expect a closing ritornello, but Haydn interrupts it with a recitative. It is here that Apollonia allows herself to slip, albeit ever so slightly. While the aria text has avoided any kind of first-person narrative, remaining static and vague, only indicating that someone has earned great praise for inventing a particular kind of makeup, the recitative interruption allows us to get a little closer to

Apollonia, or at least to the origins of her beloved makeup. Unlike the white face powder that she had tried in the past, she can wash and wipe her face without any kind of detrimental effect with the new makeup provided by Marchesa Impiastro:21

Oh, ve’ la differenza che v’è tra il bianco di Madama Celia e questo che mi diè la cameriera della Marchesa Impiastro; con questo puoi lavarti, puoi strofinarti il viso, che non casca…

Oh, look at the difference between the white face powder from Madama Celia and that which Marchesa Impiastro’s servant brought me; with this one you can wash and wipe your face and it will not come off…

Perhaps having realized her slip, Apollonia pauses slightly after this outburst before regaining enough composure to conclude her aria. She resumes singing the B theme

(now as an obvious closing theme) of the aria and although she has finished singing,

Haydn does not provide her with a closing instrumental ritornello. Instead, the orchestra interjects with a brief ritornello in measures 89 through 90 before allowing Apollonia one last quip, “Theatrical makeup is the only thing for ladies of my age!”22 Again, the fact

orchestral force (violins and bass). Similar to Haydn, each of the two lines of text is assigned a tonal area (tonic or dominant) and thematic/motivic material (A or B). Piccinni’s Apollonia gets a bit more carried away praising the man who invented her makeup and often adds a “tag” of B (dominant) material at the ends of sections. 21 “Impiastro” can mean either poultice or, more colloquially, a nuisance or a bore. 22 “Decoro de’ teatri, quint’elemento di noialtre donne!”

that this line would have been sung by a man in drag turns the aria and its concluding

“quip” into broad comedy, thus turning “Che visino” into an enclosed comic showpiece.

As a gifted performer, Apollonia knows better than to draw attention to herself by singing an aria that might reveal her true identity. Rather than make such a mistake, her aria is simple, adhering closely to its formal design. The fact that her aria contains few formal or musical surprises, aside from Apollonia’s overeager recitative and the fact that the audience hears a man’s voice when she opens her mouth, only helps to reaffirm her performative strengths, especially when compared with both her daughter’s and Don

Pelagio’s later attempts. “Che visino” ushers us into a world inhabited by people who are always performing and who, as a result, can never be fully known or trusted.

Two other characters’ arias stand out as prototypical examples of multi-layered meta-performances in La canterina: Don Pelagio’s “Io sposar l’empio tiranno?” and

Gasparina’s “Non v’è chi mi aiuta”. While Don Pelagio’s aria is not a dramatic showpiece in the same vein as Gasparina’s, it is significant because it offers a clear commentary on contemporary opera seria. In it, Don Pelagio, the mountebank maestro di capella, is presenting his cherished student, the reluctant object of his affections, with his latest composition during her voice lesson.

With a text lifted from one of Berenice’s numbers from Apostolo Zeno’s Lucio

Vero, written nearly seventy years before this opera, Don Pelagio has composed an aria that he hopes will help him seduce Gasparina.23 That Don Pelagio is performing an aria that exists outside the fictional world inhabited by the characters of the opera, and that is

23 Peter Branscombe. “Canterina, La.” In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O008730 (accessed May 9, 2009). Branscombe makes special mention of Don Pelagio’s aria and accompanied recitative as an amusing parody of opera seria.

in fact a setting of real text from a real libretto that members of the audience might have known, turns the voice lesson scene into a multi-layered performance that must be unpacked.

La canterina’s anonymous librettist surely did not choose this text by accident.

Rather, in using a classic, while perhaps dated, opera seria text, the librettist has made

Don Pelagio, a supposedly serious composer of opera, the object of mockery. In her description of the voice lesson scene, Caryl Clark refers to the text as outmoded.24

Whether the text is outmoded or not, it is clearly a poor choice for it shows us that Don

Pelagio is stuck in the past. Opera buffa had begun to eclipse opera seria as the genre of choice during this period, but the master seems unaware of this fact. In addition to choosing a rather conservative text, the music master has clearly given little thought to what the words actually mean. In its original context, “Io sposar l’empio tiranno?” is

Berenice’s response to an ultimatum. She must either marry Lucio Vero, her husband’s captor and the tyrant to whom the aria refers, or see her husband executed.25 The text is as follows:

Io sposar l’empio tiranno, io mirar lo sposo estinto? Che farai misero cor?

Am I to marry the evil tyrant, am I to see my husband dead? What shall I do, miserable heart?

Gasparina’s situation can be seen as a comic parallel to that of Berenice’s. Like

Berenice, she is being kept “captive” by a “tyrant” (of sorts) and must either choose to appease her teacher (the tyrant) by feigning interest in his amorous advances, or risk eviction (and possible poverty, but most likely not death) if she follows her heart

24 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 179. 25 Marita P. McClymonds. "Lucio Vero." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O004321 (accessed July 11, 2009).

honestly.26 Obviously, Gasparina’s situation is not quite as dire as Berenice’s, but the plot parallels are clear. Unlike her seria counterpart, Gasparina never gets to sing this aria, being permitted only to sight-sing through the accompanied recitative that precedes it before Don Pelagio becomes distracted by her beauty and prematurely concludes his lesson. Instead, the voice teacher sings the aria, assuming the role of the lover singing about his (her) beloved and the difficult decision that he (she) must face. As we shall see,

Pelagio occasionally loses sight of the dramatic situation of the aria and uses it to sing about his own feelings. This dramatic oversight draws attention to the very nature of performance, for Don Pelagio turns what should be the simple performance of a new composition into an actual expression of his feelings, thus turning everything upside- down. Also, in taking on the part of Berenice, Don Pelagio unwittingly provides us with another gender inversion.

While the immediate comic targets of the voice lesson scene are Don Pelagio and his pretensions as an opera composer, it is possible to read the librettist’s choice of text as a kind of commentary on the existence of substitute arias and the prevalence of strong egos in the world of opera singers. Just as Pelagio does not bother to consider the meaning of the aria’s text, singers often forced composers to insert arias that did nothing for the dramatic flow of the opera. Leopold Mozart’s letter to his wife from 10

November 1770, just a few years after La canterina had been performed, serves as one example of such occurrences. Leopold is describing his son’s progress on Mitridate noting that

we`ve won the first battle, thank God, and defeated an enemy who brought to the prima donna`s house all the arias that she has to sing in our opera and tried to

26 It is unclear whether Gasparina has any genuine interest in her teacher’s rival, Don Ettore. It appears that Apollonia is behind this match.

persuade her not to sing any of Wolfgang’s. We`ve seen them all, they`re all new arias, but neither she nor the rest of us know who wrote them.27

Within La canterina, Don Pelagio’s choice of text serves as a first strike against him, for he sets a highly dramatic text without any regard for its content, thereby indicating that his skills as a composer might not be as great as Apollonia and Gasparina seem to believe. It is also quite possible that neither woman actually believes in the maestro, and that each is simply trying to stay on his good side to ensure continued free room and board in his home. Regardless, Don Pelagio remains the target of mockery throughout this scene and the entire opera. In this particular case, the text has lost all of its meaning, thus making the aria all the more obviously artificial while, at the same time, causing the audience to question the plausibility of Don Pelagio’s status as a successful composer.

Haydn’s setting of “Io sposar” demonstrates the composer’s strong working knowledge of the typical comic intermezzo style and he uses a wide array of compositional techniques to parody seria – but musical form is not one of them.28 While

Piccinni’s setting of the aria employs a multi-tempo cavatina that seems to mimic a condensed da capo form, Haydn sets the aria in a sonata-like pattern. If anything, Haydn uses the form of “Io sposar” to convey Don Pelagio’s inability to focus on the task at hand; its several modulations dramatizing the master’s growing distraction. The aria seems to mimic da capo form before being forced off the rails by an increasingly

27 Emily Anderson, ed., The Letters of Mozart and his Family, vol. 1 (London: Macmillan and Co., 1938), 249. 28 Charles Troy, The Comic Intermezzo: A Study in the History of Eighteenth-Century Opera, Studies in Musicology (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979), 97. He writes, “And unlike the arias of opere serie, which tend to be static in terms of dramatic development, action tends to continue during the course of comic arias; the former invite long melodic lines and melodic development of all types, while the latter require shorter melodic figures and call for motivic development alone.”

distracted singer/composer. At the same time, Haydn makes it clear that he is familiar with the conventions of the typical seria aria and proceeds to greatly exaggerate them.29

Like Piccinni’s version of the aria, Haydn also chooses to set “Io sposar” in D-major.30

Contrary to Piccinni, Haydn chooses a quicker tempo and employs a much longer orchestral ritornello that introduces many of the themes and motives that Don Pelagio will sing later in the aria. In fact, Haydn’s ritornello is longer than Piccinni’s entire aria – it is thirty-one measures long and features a six-measure horn duet with a theme that will return throughout the piece.31

Haydn’s lengthy ritornello can be interpreted in two ways. The first and more basic interpretation is that he is mocking the typically grandiose ritornello of a seria aria in which all the dramatic action stops and the singer is forced to wait, inactive, before they can react and sing. I imagine this ritornello as an opportunity for two gifted actors to show off their skills. I can see Don Pelagio making eyes at his student as she feigns growing interest in his composition, encouraging him to continue both his courtship and his performance. Clark, writing about the similarly lengthy instrumental passages in the preceding accompanied recitative that Don Pelagio has also composed, imagines the master’s “fingers moving magically across the keyboard, conjuring up the orchestral

29 Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 233. Landon writes, “Parody was always one of Haydn’s specialties, and here we find the opera seria lampooned mercilessly: huge ritornelli, separating tiny fragments of ridiculously pathetic text (‘quei dolci lumi? Ite al tiranno!’) in No. 2, Don P’s recitative and aria that he has newly composed. In the Aria, with the Metastasio-like text ‘Io sposar l’empio tiranno’, we find a parody of the famous ‘obbligato’ instruments so beloved in opera seria – here two wildly exaggerated horn parts.” 30 Unlike Piccinni, Don Pelagio’s preceding recitative accompagnato, “Che mai far deggio?” is also set in D-major. It also has an unusually long thirty measure orchestral introduction in which Clark describes as “repetitive mechanical passagework and vapid scales.” See Clark, Haydn in the theater, 179. 31 Peter Branscombe, “Canterina, La.” In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O008730 (accessed October 22, 2009). Branscombe suggests that the “taxing horn-writing” was inspired by the repeated invocation of “misero cor”.

music we hear.”32 The second interpretation of the ritornello shows that, just six years after Piccinni, Haydn was thinking beyond the scope typical of an intermezzo. It is significant that Haydn allows Don Pelagio to repeat the aria’s preceding accompanied recitative verbatim, without any cuts, immediately after Gasparina expresses her approval for her teacher’s new work. Obviously, Piccinni’s intermezzo was limited by the fact that, as would be expected of the genre, it accompanied the Neapolitan performance of the opera buffa L’Origille at the Teatro dei Fiorentini. As noted above, I have not been able to find any indication that Haydn’s La canterina was performed with an accompanying full-length opera and the expanded lengths of the musical numbers indicates that it might well have been a stand-alone work.33

After the orchestra concludes the opening ritornello, cadencing on the tonic in measure 31, Don Pelagio enters with a nearly exact restatement of the opening theme of the ritornello. He then plows through the first two lines of text, repeating the second line

(“Io mirar lo sposo estinto”) twice while using the opening theme and cadencing on the tonic in measure 37. Piccinni’s Don Pelagio takes a more circuitous route through his opening text for within the two and a half measures that it takes to state the first line of text, the voice teacher has lengthy melismas doubled at the octave by the first violins on the words “sposar” (m. 4) and “tiranno” (m.5) before a brief cadence on D (See examples

1.1a and 1.1b).

32 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 179. Clark continues, writing that Don Pelagio’s “empty virtuosity” does little to bolster Haydn’s reputation as an opera composer. Clark misses the satirical point of this number entirely. 33 Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 124. Regarding the July 1766 performance, Landon writes, “Where did the performance actually take place in Eisenstadt Castle? There are no documents on the subject, but presumably on a temporary stage either in the garden (as sometimes happened) or in the great hall. A similarly improvised stage can have served at Eszterháza, where the theatre was not yet completed.” Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 135. Landon cites the text from the libretto from the Pressburg performance. It does not mention any other opera and refers to La canterina as an opera buffa.

Example 1.1a Haydn's “Io sposar” (mm. 31-37), Don Pelagio's vocal entrance and first two lines of text

Example 1.1b Piccinni's Io sposar” (mm. 3-6), first line of text

Haydn’s Don Pelagio wastes no time on such flourishes and the horns enter with a restatement of their solo from the ritornello after Don Pelagio has finished singing (see example 1.2, mm. 37-42). Haydn’s use of horns here allows us a glimpse of the underlying emotional significance of the aria, for the master is clearly on the hunt and

Gasparina is his prey. This duet will recur throughout the aria, serving as a constant reminder of the master’s true intentions. After the horn duet, Don Pelagio enters with the last line of text, “Che farai, misero cor?” and the aria begins to modulate to the dominant

(A-major). Haydn will use this line of text in way that reminds us of his treatment of the recurring horn duet. Like the duet, this line hints at Don Pelagio’s psychological state.

The master is no longer singing about the fictional character’s “misero cor”. Rather, the miserable heart in question is his own, and each time Don Pelagio sings this line, he steps out of the aria to sing about himself. All the modulations in this aria occur when Don

Pelagio sings this line (see example 1.3, mm. 42-47; see also mm. 77-85). Thus, Haydn turns this text into a pivot point between Don Pelagio’s psychological (and emotional) state and that of the fictional character who would be performing the aria in the course of an opera performance. Haydn’s decision to modulate on these words throughout the entire aria gives these words an additional meaning that goes beyond Don Pelagio’s choice of text. In using this text as a pivot point, Haydn shows us the music master’s weakness, his inability to follow through as a performer. Don Pelagio is so in love with his student, that he cannot keep his true feelings from overpowering his performance. It is at this point that the aria ceases to be about Berenice, or whatever heroine Don Pelagio had in mind, and becomes about himself.

Example 1.2 Haydn’s “Io sposar” (mm. 37-42), horn duet

Example 1.3 Haydn's “Io sposar” (mm. 42-47), modulation to the dominant on "misero cor"

There is no orchestral interjection after the master has finished singing about his

“misero cor” and he returns to the first line of text, now securely in the dominant (mm.

47-48). It becomes immediately clear that this is not the B section of a da capo aria and that Don Pelagio has gotten a little carried away. He rushes straight through the entire three lines of text with a melody not previously heard in the ritornello, with each phrase of “Che farai” introducing larger leaps (see example 1.4, mm. 51-53). As Hunter points out in her discussion of opera buffa aria types, such a loss of emotional control and a consequent failure to communicate coherently was not all that uncommon in buffa arias.34

While Don Pelagio does not collapse into what Hunter calls “sputtering inanity” in this particular aria, we are made painfully aware of the limits of his eloquence.

34 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 111.

Example 1.4 Haydn's “Io sposar” (mm. 51-53), Don Pelagio's vocal leaps on “Che farai”

When Don Pelagio has finished singing, cadencing on the dominant in measure

58, the orchestra returns with a repeat of the material we have just heard in the preceding ten measures. This repeat leads us to believe that the aria is about to move into a contrasting B section. Yet, that is not what happens. The orchestra repeats the closing motive from the ritornello in measures 61 through 68, but it becomes clear Don Pelagio has lost control of the piece as it stubbornly refuses to move back to the tonic. His emotions have begun to do his compositional skills a disservice. At this point in the aria, it is easy to imagine that the master grew increasingly distracted during its composition, thus allowing it to stray from the typical seria aria framework. It is clear that he is no longer paying any mind to what he has written. He still has not regained his composure when he re-enters in measure 71 with a motive that is closely related to what we heard in measures 47 through 58, this time singing only the first two lines of text followed by a cadence and a fermata.

Following the fermata, Don Pelagio moves the aria to d-minor as he sings “Che farai misero cor” while clearly becoming more despondent and lovesick.35 Although

35 Benjamin Korstvedt has suggested that perhaps this minor episode is meant to mimic the B section of a da capo aria. He made this comment at a reading of this paper at Clark University, 14 October 2009.

Haydn has not written out a cadenza here, he has allowed Don Pelagio to compose a large leap from A to F-natural on the word “farai”. At last, it looks like the singing master has taken the text seriously, finally allowing the affect of the music to match that of the text.

The dynamics shift suddenly to pianissimo and the texture of the accompaniment also changes, becoming homophonic as the strings now play steady eighth notes. The master utilizes the same motive every time he sings the words “che farai” – always a dotted eighth and sixteenth note followed by a longer note on the second syllable of “farai” (see example 1.5, mm. 77-85). With each succeeding statement of “misero”, he sustains the first syllable slightly longer. By the time he repeats “misero” for the third time in measure

84, he allows himself a fermata on the first syllable of the word. While this section may be interpreted as Don Pelagio’s brief glimmering understanding of the text that he is setting, we can also interpret this minor episode as the master’s realization of his hopeless amorous situation and his hope to inspire pity in his pupil. After allowing himself this tragic outburst, Don Pelagio slowly leads us back to the dominant of D-major and a very brief ritornello that finally returns to the tonic. Don Pelagio then sings all of the text straight through as though he is trying to remind himself that he is the composer and therefore in charge of this piece. The master’s use of the entire aria text in this section also indicates that this is not a da capo aria. His mad rush through the entire text is then followed by an eight-measure closing ritornello.

Example 1.5 Haydn's “Io sposar” (mm. 77-85), minor section

While the text of “Io sposar” remains static dramatically, as would be expected of a seria aria, the aria is musically made up of the shorter melodic figures and motivic development that would be expected of a buffa aria.36 In her work on the buffa aria,

Hunter notes that while “these numbers are almost never focused enough on a specific

[seria] device to count as full parodies, the pervasive aura of some never-quite-achieved

36 Troy, The Comic Intermezzo, 97.

– and thus by implication never achievable – higher idiom emphasizes the character’s ambition.”37 Don Pelagio’s aria shows us that he never will be a successful composer nor will he ever be a successful seducer. The aria’s incompetence comments as much on his romantic prowess as on his compositional skills. It also shows that he is out of touch with current trends. If he wanted success, he would have wooed his student with a sentimental aria.

While Don Pelagio manages to keep from losing his temper during the voice lesson scene, he is not always so lucky. His one real slip occurs during the Act I quartet,

“Scellerata, mancatrice, traditrice,” when he allows his rage to get the better of him. At long last, Don Pelagio has caught Gasparina communicating with her beloved Don

Ettore, and threatens to expose both Gasparina and her mother as opera singers:

Vo’ gridar dalli balconi: ‘Queste donne, miei padroni, sono false ed assassine, basta dir, son canterine, imparatelo da me!’

I will shout from the balcony: ‘These women, my neighbors, are fakes and killers, suffice to say, they are opera singers, take it from me!’38

This is the only time in the entire opera that Don Pelagio loses control and is reduced to buffa patter. He is so angry that, in a violent rage, he reveals himself, once and for all, as the comic character that he is, despite all his attempts to be taken seriously. He begins calmly enough, allowing himself only dotted rhythms and quarter notes. However, the more he sings, the angrier he gets and after each character has tried to calm and soothe him (mm. 12-17), he bursts into his enraged patter in measure 17. Eventually, everyone but Gasparina is reduced to buffa-like patter in their attempts to calm the master (see example 1.6 for mm. 32-39; this section of the quartet concludes a few measures later in

37 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 111. 38 The emphasis is mine.

measure 45). The quartet follows this pattern through its entirety, alternating between

Don Pelagio’s attempts at calm, slow-moving rhythms and buffa patter, eventually concluding in a cacophonous homophony in measures 101-109, where three different texts collide. Here nothing is intelligible, and the characters fail in their attempts to soothe the master.

We must also remember that Don Pelagio is not necessarily a great maestro, but rather has an unwarranted self-confidence in his talents that gives him the nerve to woo his young student. Yet his seduction is doomed from the beginning because Gasparina has simply been toying with him in exchange for lessons and lodging. Don Pelagio’s performance of “Io sposar” becomes the central performance of the act, serving as both a mockery of opera seria, and as a warning of the dangers associated with pretending to be something you are not.

Example 1.6 Act I quartet, (mm. 32-39), buffa patter

Example 1.6 continued

I see the other major “performance” aria in La canterina, Gasparina’s second act aria, “Non v’è chi mi aiuta,” as the prelude to her climactic performance in the opera. The aria itself is not the climax of the act per se, but it builds up to the high point of her entire

“performance” as a diva that will eventually culminate in a melodramatic faint. Unlike her teacher’s performance during the voice lesson scene, Gasparina does not attempt to appropriate opera seria language in her efforts to force her teacher into submission.

Instead, Gasparina employs the behavior of a sentimental character as described by

Waldoff. Waldoff writes that the sentimental heroine is marked by

an acute susceptibility to emotion, an inability to suppress her feelings, and an innately sensitive body on which the spontaneous signs of emotional life may be readily observed.39

Gasparina uses her aria as a prelude in which she allows herself to become worked up into a melodramatic frenzy. She has been well-schooled by Apollonia and surely knows

39 Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas, 70.

better than to overextend herself. As we have already seen in Don Pelagio’s performance, these characters tend to fail when they overreach their status in an attempt to achieve an ever unachievable higher idiom.

Gasparina, now facing exposure and eviction, finds herself in a situation that demands, that cries out for, a seria aria, but she is unable to fully achieve seria heroine status. Nevertheless, Haydn makes her musical savvy clear by beginning the aria in a minor key, c-minor. Unlike Don Pelagio, Gasparina has not had the luxury of slaving over her performance all night; her potentially dire circumstances, and anger at her mother for allowing this to happen, force her to think on her feet. Again, her ability to put on an impromptu performance under duress shows that she is somehow better equipped at deception than her teacher. She is merely appropriating the language necessary to achieve her ultimate goal. I have already compared Gasparina’s situation to that of Berenice in my discussion of the master’s Act I performance, but this is her true

“Berenice” moment. Apollonia and her daughter must devise a plan of attack after Don

Pelagio announces, quite loudly and viciously in the Act I finale, his decision to evict them from his home. Gasparina assures her mother that she can solve their problems.

She tries begging for mercy, telling Don Pelagio that it is improper to treat a virtuosa in such a manner in the recitative that precedes the aria.40 When begging and pleading do not work, she launches into a desperately melodramatic, sturm und drang aria:

Non v’è chi mi aiuta, non v’è chi mi sente. Afflitta e dolente, più voce non ho.

There is no one who will help me, there is no one who can hear me. Miserable and aching, I no longer have a voice.

40 See measures 27-39 of number 9. Gasparina sings, “Piano, sbiraglia indegna; non mettete la mani sopra una virtuosa!” to which Don Pelagio responds, “Virtuosa, di che? Strascinatela via!” (“Quiet, shameful men; don’t put your hands on a virtuosa!”… “Virtuosa, who?”)

Gasparina is clearly pulling out all the stops to gain the mercy of her singing teacher. In

Peter Branscombe’s New Grove entry for La canterina, he notes that “ [in] Gasparina’s C minor aria, ‘Non v’è chi mi aiuta’, the music conveys a tension and passion that [again] wittily suggest a potentially tragic situation.”41 Haydn provides us with clues throughout the aria to ensure that we see through her act. Unlike Don Pelagio’s aria, form does not play as significant a role in this densely motivic aria.42

Like an opera seria heroine, Gasparina must act quickly in order to solve her problems. There is no time for a lengthy seria aria to ponder her terrible situation.

Unlike Berenice, however, we will not be privy to her private thoughts. The entire aria is a performance that will hopefully persuade Don Pelagio to allow the women to remain in his home.43 This is a public declaration of her “suffering”. What could be more persuasive an argument than accusing your voice teacher of taking away your voice, your only gift?

The aria begins with an 11-measure ritornello full of embellished ascending and descending minor triads spelled out by the first violins in sturm und drang-like figures.

The orchestra also includes two horns in E-flat as well as a pair of English horns. The

41 Branscombe. "Canterina, La." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O008730 (accessed October 22, 2009). 42 Gordana Lazarevich, “Haydn and the Italian Comic Intermezzo Tradition,” in Internationaler Joseph Haydn Kongress, Wien 1982, ed. Eva Badura-Skoda (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986), 380. Lazarevich writes, “The vocal line in the major-key sections is segmented with rests, characterizing the heroine’s lack of breath and progressively weakening physical condition. Frequently this type of aria in an intermezzo served as preliminary to the astute female’s ultimate weapon: pretending to faint as a means of frightening her companion into forgiving her for all previous wrongdoings.” See also Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 233. “The most discussed number is Gasparina’s C minor Aria ‘Non v’è chi mi aiuta’, a desperate Sturm und Drang outburst with cors anglais, one of the rare times that Haydn ever used these favourite instruments in any key except E flat: as in Così fan tutte, part of the whole desperation is parody, but as often with Haydn, he becomes so involved with the girl’s pleadings (even if he knows they are all ‘stage’ pleadings) that he is soon completely identified with them.” 43 It does not work, thus requiring her to add in a fainting spell after the recitative that follows.

ritornello concludes with a big cadence in the dominant in measure 11 and Gasparina enters with the melody, the A theme, which has already been introduced in measures 1-4 of the opening. She then concludes with a little tag of new material in measure 17. Thus far, she has only sung the first two lines of text, following the model set by the ritornello.

Everything is behaving just as it should in the aria, but Haydn has only just begun (see examples 1.7a and 1.7b for the A and B themes of the aria).

Example 1.7a “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 11-17), A theme

Example 1.7b “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 22-26), B theme

A five-measure ritornello follows, functioning as a transition to the B motive in the next key area, the relative major (E-flat major). Gasparina’s re-entry in measure 22 is somewhat shocking, for the new key area does not match the sentiment of the text. If

Gasparina is indeed miserable, aching, and voiceless, she surely would not be singing in a major key. Haydn does this on purpose to indicate that she might have found herself in a bad situation, but all is not lost – especially not her voice. Haydn’s use of a major key here reminds us that this is indeed an act. He is winking at us yet again, although this is a case in which we do not really need this kind of confirmation. Having been privy to her recitative conversation with Apollonia, in which Gasparina assures her mother that she

will take care of this, we already know that this is all an act. We have been made well aware that Gasparina is about to put on a show. The strangely incongruous harmonic and textural shift that constitutes the B motive in this aria becomes an indication of

Gasparina’s self-confidence. She has no reason to believe that she will not succeed.

Feeling increasingly confident, Gasparina does not allow for any kind of orchestral interjection before returning to the first line of text, albeit in reversed order singing the second line before the first, now with a slightly modified A motive (A1) in the dominant of E-flat major (m. 26). She then sings through the entire text of the aria before cadencing securely in E-flat major in measure 39. Haydn does two very significant things here: first he inserts a quarter rest between the syllables of “voce” in measure 36, thus creating an almost sobbing/hiccupping effect that he will use throughout the rest of the aria (see example 1.8, mm. 35-39). Second, he allows Gasparina to slowly descend into her lower range, which is harder to sing loudly and thus making it seem as though she might indeed be losing her voice, concluding this section on the E-flat above middle

Example 1.8 “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 35-39), Gasparina’s sobbing hiccups

Example 1.8 continued

The orchestra returns with a ten-measure ritornello in measure 39. While it has thematically returned to the material presented in the opening, it is no longer in a minor key. Haydn’s use of the major mode here shows us that Gasparina believes that she has won. The ritornello deviates slightly from the opening, including three measures of new motivic material in its final few measures before it cadences in E-flat. At this point,

Gasparina returns with her opening material and it appears as though this might be a sort of recapitulation. However, she only remains in c minor for two measures, condensing the A and B themes and modulating to A-flat major by measure 61. It is almost as though she has begun to panic, fearing that she might not be as successful as she had anticipated, and the aria begins to feel slightly frantic with quick back-to-back sections of the A and B material (see example 1.9, mm. 61-67 for the A theme and mm. 67-75 for the

B theme. We need only to imagine Don Pelagio on the stage, arms crossed, and clearly unconvinced by his student’s antics. At this point, Gasparina begins to circle around the

text, repeating fragments without finishing entire statements. At first she sings the full statement of line one before repeating “chi mi aiuta, chi mi sente, chi mi sente, chi mi aiuta”.

While Gasparina manically repeats fragments of text, she begins to modulate from

A-flat major to the dominant of c-minor. Perhaps she is not as composed as she would like her teacher to believe. Sensing that this performance might not be as easy as she had anticipated, she desperately tries to impress her teacher with vocal fireworks before attempting one last repeat of the A and B motives beginning in measure 75. However, her uneasiness leaves her unable to return to the tonic and she is now stuck in the dominant of c-minor for her final repeat of the A and B motives before finally cadencing on the tonic in measure 87. Again, unlike her mother’s supreme confidence in her abilities and Don Pelagio’s delusional belief in his own, we can see a once haughty character’s plan falling apart during the course of this aria. As Gasparina begins to see the failure of her grand plan, her aria slowly goes off the rails. Her loss of control differs from her teacher’s because she creates and sings her aria ex tempore – she has not rehearsed this music – and, if anything, her failure leaves her more vulnerable.

Example 1.9 “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” (mm. 61-75), Gasparina's panic

Yet all is not necessarily lost for Gasparina and her mother. In fact, La canterina ends ambiguously. We are left with the impression that Don Pelagio has recanted and will allow the women to remain in his home, but that this kind of conflict could easily arise again. Gasparina makes sure that she does not appear to have fully recovered, her weakness ensuring that her teacher will indeed let her stay after having been revived from her fainting spell by the competing scents of money and diamonds.44 Gasparina’s two suitors seem to reconcile themselves to their ambiguous roles in her life as well, as she toys with both men throughout the concluding finale.

Haydn’s La canterina provides us with three very different approaches to the notion of meta-performance in opera buffa – from the literal performance of what Alice

Bellini refers to as “meta-opera” in the case of Don Pelagio’s “Io sposar” to, in the case of Apollonia, a potentially untrustworthy character’s ability to bury her true identity within a surprisingly “normal” aria, to Gasparina’s failed attempt to appropriate seria language.45 As I have already mentioned, these meta-performances occur on two levels.

In the case of the characters that inhabit this particular opera, it appears that they do not seem to see each other’s performances and that Haydn’s real target here is the audience.

We can see the flaws in each character as they continue their performances. While Don

Pelagio makes a worthy attempt to pass himself off as a successful opera composer, his composition suffers from both the distraction of his unrequited love for his student as well as his dated musical references. The audience would surely have been in on the

44 See number 12, the accompanied recitative “O stelle, aiuto!” Apollonia coaches Gasparina to remain “unconscious” as the two men compete to see who can revive her. See measures 39-48 of the finale quartet for Gasparina’s continued “weakness”. She sings, “Ah, mi sento ristorata, già mi trovo risanata; pian, oimè, torn’a mancar.” (“Ah, I feel better, already I find myself cured; quiet, oh, dear, it is coming back again.”) 45 Alice Bellini, “Music and ‘Music’ in Eighteenth-Century Meta-Operatic Scores,” Eighteenth-Century Music 6/2 (2009): 183-207.

joke, knowing full well that “Io sposar” was not behaving as a true seria aria would. At the same time, we are left to wonder whether or not Gasparina knows that she has been presented with a poorly composed aria, for she gives us little to work with aside from the praise that the master has come to expect after he concludes his performance. Judging from the way the women use the master, I am inclined to believe that they know he is not an altogether worthy composer. His inability to write a coherent seria aria, in addition to his enraged fits, ensures his role as a comic character.

Meanwhile, Apollonia’s aria, solely devoted to the tools that she uses in order to disguise herself, is couched within seemingly innocent and stereotypical language. Such language reminds us that one can never tell when an actor has actually stopped acting.

Here Haydn allows his casting choice to have more significance than the actual musical language of the aria.

We will see more “performance” arias and acts of disguise and deception in

Haydn’s later comic operas, but the performances that occur in La canterina are particularly resonant for they further support the satirical slant of the libretto, ensuring that we come away from the opera with a profound distrust of anyone affiliated with the operatic world – especially women. At the same time, these performances also warn us against the dangers of being foolish. If you are going to engage in a game of deceit and pretend, it is best to be self-aware. Gasparina and Apollonia succeed because they know their own limitations. Don Pelagio, however, is doomed to failure because he lacks the awareness of the limitations of his own capabilities.

CHAPTER TWO

LO SPEZIALE: UNMASKING THE FOOL

While none of the characters in La canterina assumed literal disguises in their attempts to deceive one another, the same cannot be said of the characters in Lo speziale.

In this case, two characters, Mengone and Volpino, assume actual disguises twice over the course of the opera. Although Don Pelagio’s performance during the voice lesson scene functioned as an unmasking of sorts, at least for the audience’s sake, this type of unmasking differs from those associated with characters who actually don literal costumes as part of their games of deceit and deception. Unlike La canterina, Lo speziale presents us with two literal unmaskings– the Act II finale quartet and the conclusion of Act III. Within Lo speziale these unmaskings do not reveal anything that we as an audience – and surely all but the opera’s foolish protagonist, Sempronio – do not already know. The lack of revelation associated with these unmaskings directly undermines Jessica Waldoff’s discussion of disguise in her work, Recognition in

Mozart’s Operas. Waldoff is inclined to defend the type of recognition brought about by the removal of a disguise as more than a jaded convention, stating that the unmasking of disguise is “more complex than it might at first seem.”1 According to Waldoff, the presence of a character in disguise implies that they will eventually reveal their true

1 Jessica Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 65.

identity, therefore treating the audience – and the other characters in the opera – to a view of the “familiar in a new aspect”.1 She asserts that

disguise itself is often the sign of a deeper recognition, waiting to be brought to the surface. Though disguise may conceal the identity of persons who would otherwise be recognized, the revelation made when the disguise is removed typically uncovers more than merely the identity hidden behind the mask.2

While it is true that a composer or author’s choice of specific disguise for a character is certainly a valid method of conveying some kind of deeper meaning, the conclusion of Lo speziale directly contradicts Waldoff’s argument.

There are three key scenes in Lo speziale that explore the dramatic function of disguise, deceit, and performance: the marriage ceremony in the Act II finale (sc. vii), the surviving Turkish numbers of Act III, and Haydn’s alternate versions of Grilletta’s rejection of Volpino, “Caro Volpino amabile” (Act I, sc. vi).3 Each scene serves as its own case study of different methods, uses, and satirical points associated with operatic deception. As we shall see, Grilletta does not actually assume a disguise, choosing instead to deceive Volpino by playing the part of the sentimental heroine. Like

Gasparina, Grilletta chooses an idiosyncratic disguise instead of a literal one. Just as

Gasparina combined elements of opera seria and sentimental heroine behavior in her performance of the melodramatic “Non v’è chi mi aiuta” in La canterina, we shall see

Grilletta resort to the same techniques in her rejection of Volpino’s romantic advances.

1 Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas, 66. The full quote reads, “In Mozart, however, recognition scenes that center on disguise often bring about a new understanding of circumstances or even an entirely new situation. In Mozart’s operas, as in Shakepeare’s comedies, the removal of the mask reveals the familiar in a new aspect.” 2 Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas, 66. 3 Joseph Haydn, Lo speziale, Joseph Haydn Werke, ed. Helmut Wirth (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1959), 61. The zweite fassung is on page 183.

On the most superficial level, the motives behind the characters’ deceptive behavior are the same in La canterina and Lo speziale, but here they function in a different way. In La canterina, the satire is essentially self-directed, meaning that the characters’ actions force us to question the characters actively engaging in these deceptive acts. In the case of Lo speziale, the characters who assume disguises are not the satirical targets of the opera. If anything, their disguises help to victimize, or at least further satirize, the character of Sempronio. Yet while Mengone’s and Volpino’s disguises reinforce Sempronio’s foolishness, this characterization comes as no surprise to anyone who has been paying attention to the plot. The eventual unmasking of the disguised characters does little to develop their characterization, meaning that no kind of enlightenment is achieved. It is Sempronio’s willingness to believe their deceitful acts that reveals information about his character. In a sense, the central “disguise” of the entire opera is Sempronio’s disguise as a man of learning. Furthermore, Mengone’s and

Volpino’s choice of disguise in the third act, when they appear on stage as Turks, and the fact that they succeed as fake Turks when they fail as fake notaries in the second act, functions as a commentary on the eighteenth-century fixation on the exotic Orient.

Lo speziale, first performed in the fall of 1768, was the first of the three Carlo

Goldoni librettos that Haydn would set during his opera-intensive period.4 Like almost all of Haydn’s other Italian operas, the work was occasional; in this case the performance coincided with not one, but two events – the opening of the Eszterháza opera house and

4 H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, Haydn At Eszterháza, 1766-1790 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 151. Based on Nicolaus’ usual payment schedule, Landon states that the performance took place on 28 September 1768. Carlo Goldoni wrote over 80 librettos during his career, most of which were for comic works. See Piero Weiss. "Goldoni, Carlo." In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/11386 (accessed June 23, 2010). Caryl Clark, “The Last Laugh: Il mondo della luna, Goldoni and Haydn,” Goldoni and the Musical Theatre, ed. Domenico Pietropaolo (New York: Legas, 1995), 66. Clark writes that, from 1761 until 1790 Haydn produced over 100 Italian operas.

the visit of the new Hungarian regent, Duke Albert of Saxe-Techsen.5 Like La canterina and all of his subsequent Italian operas, Haydn’s Lo speziale was not the first setting of its libretto. The original operatic version, set as Il Speciale, was a dramma giocoso set by

Vincenzo Pallavicino (Act I) and Domenico Fischietti (Acts II and III) and was first performed at the Teatro Grimani di Samuele in Venice during the 1754 Carnival season.6

The original setting consisted of the mix of seria and buffa characters that would be expected in a dramma giocoso.7 Daniel Heartz refers to the libretto as one of Goldoni’s

“most colorful”.8 While Haydn designated his version as a dramma giocoso, he eliminated the parte serie as well as a comic female servant.9 In doing so, he streamlined the plot, making the amorous pursuits of Grilletta, Sempronio, Mengone, and Volpino the focus. Again, like La canterina, the plot centers on a love triangle except that, in the case

5 This excludes L’anima del filosofo, ossia Orfeo ed Euridice which Haydn composed for a London performance in 1791. It was never performed. 6 Gordana Lazarevich. "Speziale, Lo (i)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online,! http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O006697 (accessed October 4, 2010). The libretto was commissioned in 1752 by two buffo singers, Francesco Baglioni and Francesco Carattoli. There are date discrepancies surrounding the first performance. Lazarevich writes, “Although the libretto gives Carnival 1755 as the date of the première, the original Venetian edition of Goldoni’s complete works gives 1753, the date that the libretto was apparently printed.” See also Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 239. Landon notes that Goldoni’s 1752 version was performed for the Carnival in Bologna and was then revived in 1755 for Carnival in Venice. See Pierluigi Petrobelli, “Goldoni at Esterhaza: The Story of his Librettos set by Haydn,” in Internationaler Joseph Haydn Kongress, Wien 1982, ed. Eva Badura-Skoda (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986), 315-316. According to Petrobelli, the 1754 version was performed in at least six other Italian cities and abroad until 1764. The last known performance occurred at the Haymarket theatre in London in 1769. 7 Goldoni, Carlo. Lo speziale, the apothecary, a comic opera; as perform'd at the King's-Theatre in the Hay-Market. The music of the first act by Signor Pallavicini: the second and third by Signor Fischietti. London, [1769]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 4 October 2010 . 8 Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School: 1740-1780 (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1995), 375. 9 Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 123 and 152. Three of the four actors in Lo speziale were also in La canterina. Barbara Dichtler played Volpino, Karl Fribert played Sempronio, and Leopold Dichtler played Mengone. Magdalena Spängler, who was not in La canterina, played Grilletta. Haydn cuts the roles of Albina, Lucindo, and Cecchina.

of Lo speziale, the heroine does not even bother to feign interest in the old fool who pursues her. The elimination of the additional characters makes Haydn’s plot much more straightforward; and yet, there are a few instances of sloppiness in which a now non-existent character is mentioned or an aria seems to come out of nowhere.10

Sempronio, the eponymous apothecary, is in love with his ward, Grilletta.

Grilletta, like her counterpart in La canterina, Gasparina, does not reciprocate his feelings. Rather, she is in love with her guardian’s apprentice, Mengone. Further complicating matters, she is also the object of man-about-town Volpino’s affection.11

Volpino’s connection to the other characters in the opera is rather unclear. While he is clearly not a buffo character, he seems to exist for comic purposes, essentially making

Mengone’s already trying situation even more difficult, for the apprentice is faced with two overwhelming tasks throughout the opera – trying to win Grilletta’s hand from his master and essentially running Sempronio’s shop while his master is otherwise occupied.

Much of Sempronio’s foolishness is a direct result of his being a dreamer. He is more concerned with the goings on of the rest of the world than he is with what occurs in his shop. While other characters are occasionally the comic targets in particular scenes, the entire opera is really about Sempronio’s foolishness – an oblivious kind of foolishness, enabled by his status as a dreamer, that will ultimately allow the other characters to get the better of him at the opera’s conclusion. Both of the major performance set pieces in this opera play off of this very foolishness. Therefore, it is

10 A few of the musical numbers do make references to the characters that were cut and the knowledge of their original presence makes things clearer. In particular, Mengone asks Sempronio about his daughter at one point. This daughter, Albina, was one of the parte serie in the original. The recitative that explains Mengone’s aria, “Per quel che ha mal stomaco” has also been cut. Grilletta also suggests that Mengone marry Ceccina during their Act II argument. 11 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 375. Heartz writes “Volpino (‘little fox’), though clever at ruses and disguises, is eventually outfoxed by Mengone.”

imperative that Mengone and Volpino assume their disguises in order to reinforce the characterization of Sempronio.

Although he does not actively engage in any kind of deception, the character of

Sempronio is the same type of generic fool as La canterina’s Don Pelagio. Both men desire something more than their dreary daily existence. Don Pelagio escapes from his reality by believing that he is a great composer, while Sempronio lives in a make-believe world populated by exotic peoples that inhabit the stories he reads in his newspaper.

Although he holds the title of apothecary, he does nothing throughout the opera aside from report from his newspaper and occasionally consult his maps and globes.

Sempronio is not a great performer, none of the other characters believe anything that he says, but he certainly fools himself.

Like the actors in La canterina, Sempronio’s profession as an apothecary serves as the first strike against him, or at least as the first sign that he is not the great man that he would like to be.12 According to a 1757 work called The london tradesman, the profession of apothecary “requires very little Brains; he wants only a strong Memory, to

12 Rebecca Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio: Deafness and Hearing in the Operatic Theatre,” Goldoni and the Musical Theatre, ed. Domenico Pietropaolo (New York: Legas, 1995), 83. Green notes that Goldoni’s Lo speziale was itself a re-working of his comedy La finta ammalata and that both comedies owed something to Molière’s medical satires. Sempronio is not Goldoni’s only comic apothecary. Domenico Fischietti also set Goldoni’s Il signor dottore in 1758. This work features a comic apothecary named Fabrizio. "#$%&'&!(&)&$*+,-./!01,2'#$!%#33#$*4!56/0!5'!!"#$%#&$'()*#$+,-.,)/0(1$)2$34#(04! *%,3*%!78!13&'6*8!1&%,*/!'()*#$567,-$3/8,/#/!392)(:$567,-$3/8,/#4! .339:;;<<#$%?@A,-#'6,'*/-#?;A@7A-$,7*$;&$3,-6*;2$#+*;?@A,-;BCCDDED!F&--*AA*%!G@'*!HH4! ICHHJ/!!(&)&$*+,-.!<$,3*A4!“The libretto satirizes the artificiality of social rank and social climbers. Along with Il mercato di Malmantile, Il signor dottore was regarded as Fischietti’s most successful opera.”!!1**! &6A#!;8$7,,-$)4#(0?$07$4#(2)(>@:$0.$."#$A,/<@7$!"#0.(#$,/$."#$B01C50(D#.4!(#'%#'4! HKDK/!E,<".##/."$F#/.6(1$F)88#-.,)/7$3/8,/#/!"&6*/!L$&'%*,A!M',+*$A,38/!HH!G@'*!ICHH! .

retain such a number of cramp words as he is daily conversant with.”13 This work breaks down the field of medical arts into five branches: physician, surgeon, chemist, druggist, and apothecary. While the chemist’s profession is generally the same as an apothecary’s, they rank higher, making the apothecary the lowest rung on the ladder of medical professions.14 Therefore, Sempronio’s professional designation helps serve as the first indication that he is not a well-respected member of society, simply a necessary one.

Mengone, then, is forced to play the role of apothecary and the comedic “straight man”, constantly letting the audience know just how uncomfortable he is with this role. In fact, most of his arias from Act I are, quite literally, about being an apothecary (“Tutto il

13 Campbell, R. The london tradesman. Being an historical account of all the trades, professions, arts, both Liberal and Mechanic, now practised in the Cities of London and Westminster. Calculated for the Instruction of Youth in their Choice of Business. Containing, I. Advice to Parents, how to study and improve the Natural Genius of their Children, before they bind them Apprentice. II. An Historical Account of all the several Arts and Professions in this great Metropolis. III. The particular Genius and Qualifications necessary to make a Figure in the several Branches, viz. the Degree of Strength and Age, the Measure of Knowledge and Learning necessary to qualify them to enter as an Apprentice, and the Temper and Disposition of Mind that is likely to succeed in each particular Trade. IV. The Wages of a Journeyman, and the Profits of a Master in each Profession. V. The Company and Corporations, and General Laws of the several Societies into which Tradesmen are divided in the City of London. VI. Advice to the young Apprentice how to behave during his Apprenticeship; Rules to be observed in acquiring the perfect Knowledge of his Business, and obtaining and preserving the Good-Will of his Master, and laying the Foundation of a comfortable Settlement when out of his Time. Lastly, Directions how to avoid the many Temptations to which Youth are liable in this great City. The whole Delivered in an Easy, Familiar Style, suitable to the meanest Capacity, and containing Rules worthy the Knowledge and Observation of Persons of all Ranks, who are Entrusted with the Settlement of Youth. To which is added, An Appendix, containing many Useful Particulars relative to the foregoing. The third edition. By R. Campbell, Esq;. London, MDCCLVII. [1757]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 5 May 2010 http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&type=multipage&tabID=T001& prodId=ECCO&docId=CW104198175&source=gale&userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0&d ocLevel=FASCIMILE, 63. According to The london tradesman, an apothecary is “only employ’d in composing of Medicines, by the Doctor’s Prescriptions, without respect to their Qualities…This is a mere Apothecary; a Profession that requires very little Brains; he wants only a strong Memory, to retain such a Number of cramp words as he is daily conversant with…” This work warns against the apothecary who tries to play doctor. 14 Campbell, The london tradesman, 59 and 62. “The Genius requisite to compleat a Chymist has a near Analogy to the Physician: He must have a solid Judgment, but a larger Share of Patience than most Men; their Processes are long and tedious, and often depend upon very minute Circumstances; the smallest Neglect spoils their Work and deceives their Expectation in the very Point of Projection.” However, Campbell warns that “Chymists are generally Apothecaries, that is, they compound and sell Medicines; and as they make up their own Chymical Ingerdients are enabled to undersell the Apothecary; but in both Capacities are subject to the Visitation of the College of Physicians.” Unlike the apothecary and chemist, the druggist merely buys and sells drugs.

giorno pista, pista” [sc. i] and “Per quell che ha mal di stomaco” [sc. iv]). Grilletta plays the role of the coy innocent, allowing both the apprentice and master to court her, but letting her true personality shine through in her rejection of Volpino (“Caro Volpino amabile” [Act I, sc. vi]). Like the role of Apollonia, the role of Volpino is also a travesty role –adding a seria-esque layer of complexity to the character. Yet, Volpino’s entire status in the opera is rather unclear. While the relationships between Mengone,

Sempronio, and Grilletta are clear, Volpino’s relationship with them is never fully explained. Granted, his romantic intentions are obvious and serve as his motivation for the opera’s entirety. It is this motivation that leads him to twice don disguises throughout the course of the opera. While Mengone is stuck in Sempronio’s shop, Volpino is free to come up with grand plans that he hopes will allow him to finally seduce Grilletta away from both her guardian and the apothecary’s apprentice. It should come as no surprise that the characters of Lo speziale employ their literal and idiosyncratic disguises in order to get what they want. While most of these performances are related to the romantic triangle that is central to the opera’s plot, Sempronio’s eagerness to see the rest of the world, fueled no doubt through his fixation on the daily news, allows him to be seduced

(and fooled) by Mengone’s and Volpino’s final great disguise.15

While the marriage ceremony quartet and the Turkish musical numbers are related in that the same characters are in disguise and the victim of their plot is the same

(Sempronio), Grilleta’s number stands alone. The Act II finale plays off of Sempronio’s willful ignorance of reality (and perhaps, his less literal “deafness” to what is going on around him), the third act Turkish numbers offer commentary on exoticism in eighteenth-

15 Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio,” 83. Green believes that Goldoni based the role of Sempronio on the deaf apothecary, Agapito, in La finta ammalata. This translation of literal deafness to a kind of willful ignorance to one’s surroundings turns Sempronio into a more complex character.

century culture, and Grilletta’s number offers commentary on the role of the sentimental heroine.16

Grilletta’s number stands out in a work filled with the literal donning of disguises.

In fact, her employment of particular generic behaviors and musical tropes, while masking her actual personality, actually functions as an example of dissembling and deceit along the lines of the behaviors that we saw in La canterina. The survival of two alternate versions of the aria also gives us glimpse into Haydn’s exploration of her character’s potential. Haydn’s choice is telling for he ultimately chooses the harsher and more biting version that makes Grilletta less a sweet innocent heroine and more a self- aware and fully fleshed out character. While the text might seem to indicate that Grilletta is a sentimental heroine, that is not the case. Regarding the sentimental heroine, Mary

Hunter writes that the sentimental heroine’s

inevitable trajectory is toward a socially fitting and emotionally desired betrothal or wedding. Her primary function is to engage the audience’s sympathies and stimulate their capacity for sensibility, which she may do in a variety of ways, all of which to some degree or other involve her persecution or victimization.17

Grilletta’s plot trajectory is that of a successful marriage, but, as I have already mentioned, she is no sentimental heroine. Rather, she walks a fine line between the coy buffa female character and the sentimental heroine, eventually outsmarting all of the men around her. Unlike Hunter’s description of the standard heroine, she is certainly not naïve.18 She might use her music, the sounding representation of her feminine wiles, to tug at Volpino’s heartstrings, but she knows exactly what she is doing. The degree of deception involved in her performance depends on the version of the aria and Volpino’s

16 Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio,” 83. 17 Mary Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna: A Poetics of Entertainment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 41. 18 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 41.

sensitivity. Her aria “Caro Volpino amabile,” is a play on the pseudo-tragic trajectory of many unlucky sentimental heroines. After all, she is the only female in this cast of characters and has her pick of the men. Each of the male characters wants nothing less than to make her his wife. Although Sempronio would be content with a trip to the

Molucca Islands.

Grilletta’s “Caro Volpino amabile” is her disdainful rejection of Volpino’s advances. She coyly switches between meters and modes as she insults Volpino, calling him the king of madmen while attributing her rejection to her inherent unluckiness:

Caro Volpino amabile, siete dei pazzi il re; è vero, siete adorabile, ma non piacete a me. Son nata sfortunata, non merto il vostro amor. Volpino poverino, soffrite il pizzicor.

Dear lovable Volpino, you are the king of madmen; it is true, you are sweet, but I do not find you pleasing. I was born unlucky, I do not deserve your love. Poor Volpino, you suffer the itch of love.

Her text alone is in keeping with the standard subject matter of the generic sentimental statement.19 Yet unlike the stereotypical sentimental heroine, she does nothing to engage the audience’s sympathies. If anything, the audience is left feeling sorry for her poor suitor.

Both versions of the aria are in F-major. The first version is a moderato assai in

3/8 that uses two flutes and two horns in addition to a tempo and meter change when

Grilletta begins to sing about her pre-destined unluckiness. Here, the aria shifts to a presto 6/8. The second version of the aria does not make use of any such tempo or meter changes and is an adagio minuet (3/4) that substitutes two oboes for the flutes. The first

19 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 147. “The subject of sentimental statements is invariably love, whether desired, achieved, or denied.”

version shows an almost dual, or hybrid, element of Grilletta’s character. Again, she can play the innocent and naïve heroine who veils her rejection of Volpino with a sweet melody in what functions as essentially the first section of version one of the aria (see example 2.1a, mm. 24-38 of the first version and compare with 2.1b, mm. 1-18 of the second). In the first thematic section of the first version of the aria, her phrases are divided by one-measure woodwind interjections that allow her veiled insults to sound sweetly innocuous. She enters the second section of the aria in measure 39, marked by a tempo, meter, and mode change (the aria moves to c-minor as she sings of her unluckiness). Here, she shifts the focus of the aria back to herself and the shift to minor is clever, the affect alone allows her to play up her unluckiness without ever explicitly explaining in just what way she suffers. As she sings about her own suffering (see example 2.2a, mm. 39-47 of first version and compare with 2.2b, mm. 18-24 of second version), the aria modulates to the dominant (of the major, therefore moving to C-major) as she sings about poor Volpino. The winds also disappear and this section functions almost like the written out B section of a da capo aria (especially because the first section does return in measure 81). This version of the aria makes light of Volpino’s situation.

While the A section’s melody sounds sweet and innocent, there is a kind of shallowness, an almost surface-like quality, that clearly indicates that Grilletta could not care less about her poor suitor’s feelings.

Example 2.1a “Caro Volpino amabile” (first version, mm. 24-38), “A” section

Example 2.1b “Caro Volpino amabile” (second version, mm. 1-18)

Example 2.1b continued

Example 2.2a “Caro Volpino amabile” (first version, mm. 39-47), Grilletta's suffering

Example 2.2b “Caro Volpino amabile” (second version, mm. 18-24), Grilletta's suffering

The second version does nothing to portray the hybrid, dual nature of Grilletta’s personality. If Haydn had used this version, Grilletta would have seemed a much more convincing innocent and less of a self-aware character thoroughly engaged in an act of deception. In fact, this version would have made Grilletta an example of Hunter’s “inner

nobility and aura of ‘naturalness’”.20 Yet the number, with its long languid lines and slow triple meter, feels like more of a showpiece for the actress than an aria that befits the character. At the same time, if Haydn had used this version, the music would not have matched the aria’s affect, therefore adding another layer of complexity to the character.

Is she telling the truth? Does she actually love Volpino? For this version makes it seem like she might actually care about Volpino’s feelings whereas the other version makes it clear that she really only cares about herself and gives no thought to how she will reject her unfortunate suitor. In the first version, while the music might veil Grilletta’s insults, it also functions to show just how flippant she is. She does not need to (or want to) take

Volpino’s feelings into consideration.

Leaving the question of Grilletta’s character aside, we will now turn our attention to the characters who opt for more literal disguises and perhaps less character complexity or ambiguity. Mengone’s and Volpino’s first major performance occurs at the end of Act

II. As we shall see, the Grilletta’s musical deceit and Volpino’s and Mengone’s physical disguises behave in structurally similar ways. Before delving into their performances, a brief synopsis is necessary in order to understand the circumstances of their ruse. Despite

Grilletta’s acceptance of Mengone’s marriage proposal at the end of Act I, she agrees to marry Sempronio at the end of Act II.21 She has quarreled with Mengone and announces, to the audience, that she will marry the first man who asks for her hand in order to make

Mengone jealous. The audience surely would have known to expect that first man to be anyone other than Mengone for how else would the opera have continued for a third act?

Sempronio, realizing that at least one of his dreams has come true, wastes no time and

20 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 147. 21 “Quanti son di questa polvere,” the trio that concludes Act I is Mengone’s and Grilletta’s thwarted attempt at marriage. Sempronio catches the lovers unawares during the course of this number.

sends for a notary to help draw up a marriage contract. Both Mengone and Volpino, working independently, arrive at the apothecary’s shop disguised as notaries in order to perform the marriage ceremony. Again, Volpino’s actual role here is rather unclear.

Grilletta has not promised him anything; rather, she has summarily dismissed all of his attempts at courtship. He is simply present for the comic purpose of making Mengone’s life more difficult.

Volpino and Mengone’s arrival at the apothecary’s shop in disguise does not necessarily make their intentions of sabotage clear (however, the dramatic requirements of an Act II finale necessitate that this number result in unresolved conflict and confusion). It is obvious that neither has really thought through what will happen next or what role they will play in this marriage ceremony. In fact, it appears as though they both arrive on the scene just to witness what is going to happen, not to take any kind of action – their disguises having been assumed so that they can witness the ceremony without being recognized by the other two parties. They certainly did not plan to perform the marriage ceremony. According to the 1771 edition of the Encyclopædia Brittanica, a wedding ceremony did not require the presence of a clergyman. In fact, “The consent of parties may be declared before any magistrate, or simply before witnesses.”22 While the audience surely is not fooled by their disguises, they effectively fool everyone else – even each other; neither Volpino nor Mengone realize that the other is not a real notary. While

22 Encyclopædia Britannica; or, a dictionary of arts and sciences, compiled upon a new plan. ... Illustrated with one hundred and sixty copperplates. By a Society of gentlemen in Scotland. In three volumes. ... Vol. Volume 2. Edinburgh, 1771. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 29 March 2010 http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&type=multipage&tabID=T001& prodId=ECCO&docId=CW126042247&source=gale&userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0&d ocLevel=FASCIMILE, p. 892, “Law – Tit. 6 “Of Marriage”.

the false notaries fail at escaping unscathed, and unrecognized, they do succeed in thwarting the marriage.

Volpino is the first to arrive on the scene, followed by Mengone. The stage directions in the score describe their costumes vaguely, simply stating that both men arrive dressed as notaries, with mustaches.23 What does it mean to be “dressed as a notary”? Returning again to the 1771 edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica, a notary is defined as “a person, usually some Scrivener, who takes notes, or frames short draughts, of contracts, obligations, charter-parties, or other writings” making no mention of typical bureaucratic costume.24 We must simply assume that the men have shown up wearing something other than their usual daily wear, complete with new mustaches and that these changes are enough to fool Sempronio and Grilletta (although it seems rather easy to fool

Sempronio, it is surprising that Grilletta is not suspicious). Sempronio is so pleased at having finally having succeeded in wooing his ward that he allows both notaries to participate in the writing of the marriage contract, despite Mengone’s weak explanation as to why they are both present. When Sempronio challenges Mengone, the apprentice insists that, since he has shown up, he must be paid and that he will simply function as the second notary.25

23 Scenes VI and VII. Volpino is described as “in abito da Notaro, con baffi, e detti”. 24 Encyclopædia Britannica; or, a dictionary of arts and sciences, compiled upon a new plan. ... Illustrated with one hundred and sixty copperplates. ... Edinburgh, 1771. 782 pp. Vol. 3 of 3, p. 404, http://galenet.galegroup.com.resources.library.brandeis.edu/servelet/ECCO (accessed 29 March 2010). Campbell, The London tradesman, 82. Campbell writes, “The Notary-Public is a Branch of the Law, but practices [sic] no Part of it hitherto mentioned: He is only conversant with the Law of Merchants…His Genius ought to be extensive, and his Judgment penetrating, attended with an unwearied Application to Business. This is a very reputable Employ; and Youth who have served their Time to a Notary of Reputation and Practice, can never fail of handsome Bread.” 25 Act II, scene vii, m. 86, “Ed io non mi confondo: scriverò come vuol, primo o secondo.” “And I am not confused; I will write as you want, first or second.”

In the case of the fraudulent notaries, Haydn gives us few musical cues, clues, or incongruities. They need not do anything more than echo Sempronio’s dictation and that makes their potential for success all the more palpable. This echoing strategy leaves less room for error on their part. Yet, they do manage to trip up from time to time and the number eventually becomes a musical power struggle in which Sempronio eventually catches on. As Green notes

Although the notaries appear to be recording Sempronio’s words as they echo him, the music tells another story. Since these echoes have a musical function that is cadential they can either confirm the key established by Sempronio, or weaken it by moving to another key area.26

In this case, Haydn uses the skillful mimicry of the performers to call attention to the foolishness of the apothecary rather than using the performance as a commentary on notaries or bureaucrats. So, the satire and parody in this case are not self-directed. While the notaries are structurally doomed to failure, they do not actually overstep their bounds.

Perhaps this is why they even manage to fool one another. Their later successes in the third act, when they dress up as Turks, support the idea that it is much easier to pretend to be something – or someone – that no one around you would know (in this case, a Turk) than to disguise yourself as something or someone that everyone would know (in this case, a notary). Plus, Sempronio’s eagerness to meet an exotic person (whom he has only seen described in his newspaper) makes it much more likely that he will actually believe in the disguise – this is his ultimate wish fulfillment.

The quartet that follows is a multi-tempo, multi-meter, sectional number in which all four characters remain on the stage throughout the entire piece. Each section has clearly marked tempo and meter changes, but the number is not an example of the grand

26 Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio,” 95.

multi-sectional act-concluding ensemble number that would become the standard in late eighteenth-century opera buffa.27 In this quartet, the section changes do not mark the entry or exit of a new character; rather each tempo and meter change marks a shift in power and control between the two parties – the “newlyweds” and the notaries. While characters are not necessarily entering or exiting, each section does indicate a change in the course of the dramatic action that takes place throughout the number. Haydn artfully uses the sections as well as harmony (especially modulations between the tonic and dominant) to indicate which party has the upper hand. Furthermore, all the sections except the final one return; thus the sections function more as thematic areas rather than true new segments of the number. The sections are shorter each time they return and this change helps the audience to feel the pressure of the situation. The return of these sections shows that Haydn is using them to compositionally represent the “battle” over

Grilletta’s hand that surely pre-dates the action seen in the opera.

Despite the dramatic events that occur throughout this number – Grilletta comes very close to marrying a man she does not love, Sempronio almost achieves one of his great wishes, Volpino and Mengone almost lose the woman they love – there is a kind of disconnect between the action and the actual music itself. It is almost as though the characters are trying so hard to control the situation that they are stifling themselves. In this way, the quartet sounds, for lack of a better word, strange – like there is no relationship between the musical affect and the dramatic situation. James Webster and

Georg Feder note a different kind of incongruity in their discussion of the second act finales of Lo speziale and Il mondo della luna. They write that

27 While not truly multi-sectional, the Act I finale is closer to type with Sempronio entering and exiting throughout, each exit/entrance changing the music in some way.

when deceptions are revealed in the Act 2 finales of Lo speziale and Il mondo della luna, the musical character does not change until later, when the people deceived (Sempronio, Buonafede) give vent to outbursts of rage.28

While these examples are cited as examples of Haydn’s tendency to compose “‘against the grain’ of the genre or libretto to dramatic purpose,” I see such moments as examples of Haydn’s ability to add psychological depth to a genre that was rich with conventions.29

If anything, Green’s analysis of the second act quartet also serves to show that these so- called incongruities are functional and therefore almost imperative to understanding

Sempronio’s character.30 Just as he is oblivious to all that goes on around him when he is reading his newspaper in the shop, he is oblivious to all of the musical cues that surround him throughout the course of this quartet.

It is easy to argue that the dissonance between action and music that Webster and

Feder find in Lo speziale is indeed one such example of added emotional and psychological depth. Sempronio is talking about himself in the third person almost as though he is on the outside looking in. He calmly dictates his marriage contract to the notaries in slow, speech-like patter that is clearly not buffa patter. Perhaps the mismatch of affect and action has to do with the fact that none of the parties wants to give himself

28 James Webster and Georg Feder. "Haydn, Joseph." In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/44593pg9 (accessed June 11, 2010). 29 Webster and Feder. "Haydn, Joseph." In Grove Music Online. (accessed August 12, 2010). Webster and Feder write that, “the brilliance of Haydn’s tonal and formal construction and his rhythmic verve go without saying; masterly too are his vivid characterization in arias, expressive strength in accompanied recitatives and fascinating orchestral effects; he often composes ‘against the grain’ of the genre or libretto to dramatic purpose. For these reasons (as well as their ready availability), they have attracted much analytical and critical attention. On the other hand, although the librettos represent major types and their thematic orientation is often strong, they often exhibit weaknesses of plausibility, motivation or dramaturgy; even Haydn’s music cannot always overcome these faults, nor did he always exploit the dramatic implications of his librettos.” 30 Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio,” 93-100.

away. When Sempronio is tripped up by the uncooperative notaries, he works awfully hard not to be reduced to what Hunter refers to as “sputtering inanity”.31

As I have already mentioned, the quartet is sectional and each section indicates the party in power. The number begins with what I have designated as “dictation” music in a duple un poco Adagio in A-major. Sempronio is in control. There is no ritornello here, Sempronio launches right into the dictation of his contract. According to Landon, in this section the orchestra “plastically describes the notary’s busy strokes of the pen.”32

While I do not necessarily hear the strings mimicking the pen strokes, it is true that the music must move at a slow and stately pace so that the notaries can take down every word of the contract that is being dictated to them. This music is actually accompanying action. The first moment of musical-dramatic incongruity occurs early in the number and is of a rather fleeting nature. The notaries, secure in their fake mustaches, have calmly taken down Sempronio’s dictation for the first seven measures of the quartet until the apothecary mentions marriage in measure eight. We can hear their hearts sink as they realize that they are actually aiding their romantic rival and they slip away from the tonic in their divided echo of the word “marriage” in measures 10 and 11 as they pull the number away from A-major towards f-sharp minor: Volpino sings, “in ma…” and

Mengone finishes, “tri-mo-ni-o” (see example 2.3, mm. 8-11). Sempronio is so caught up in the moment that he does not notice this pull away from the tonic. This slip is more for the audience than for the characters participating in the number and also serves as a virtuosic example of telling the story of the finale through music. It is essential that we hear their confidence waver and essential that Sempronio does not. Although,

31 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 111. 32 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 241.

dramatically speaking, what exactly did they think was going on when they arrived at

Sempronio’s shop, where he was expectantly awaiting a notary’s arrival?

Example 2.3 Act II finale (mm. 8-11), “matrimonio”

The frauds’ wavering confidence is brief and, although we are not privy to their thoughts here, Haydn uses a modulation to the dominant, E-major, (see example 2.4, mm.

12-20) to show us their new plan and their brief wresting of control away from the oblivious Sempronio. As the apothecary continues his dictation, the notaries hatch their plan – they will write their own names into their respective contracts. In their opinion, the problem is solved and the quartet’s stubborn refusal to return to the tonic belies that they are indeed in control here. Yet again, Sempronio takes no notice until measure 40 when he finally begins to suspect that something is wrong. He also breaks from his third-

person dictation at this point, directing questions at the notaries, “Are you deaf? Are you crazy? What is going on here?”(“Siete sordi? Siete pazzi? Che maniera è questa qui?”).

The scribbling string motive disappears from the first violins as they begin to play scalar patterns of 32nd notes (see example 2.5, mm. 40-46). While the combination of this string motive would seem frantic when played at a quicker tempo, the adagio tempo marking keeps everything in check. Sempronio will eventually lose control, but for now he can manage to keep himself from slipping into enraged buffa patter and the music remains in a major (dominant) area. The section comes to an end in measure 46 with

Sempronio’s demeanor in check, but with the notaries clearly in control.

Example 2.4 Act II finale (mm. 12-20), modulation to the dominant, frauds wrestle control from Sempronio

Example 2.4 continued

Example 2.5 Act II quartet (mm. 40-46), Sempronio begins to lose control

Example 2.5 continued

The next section (mm. 47-67), which I have designated “stalling” music, begins in a new tempo, meter, and a new but related key area – allegro di molto, !, E-major

(dominant of previous section) – as Mengone and Volpino try to figure out a way to save themselves from being recognized and their beloved from a doomed marriage. Again,

Haydn presents us with a musical-dramatic disconnect, for although the faster tempo indicates the pressure that the notaries are under to come up with a solution quickly, the key does not quite match the sentiment. This “affect” discrepancy somehow makes it clearer that they are in disguise. This is not the first time Haydn has used a musical- dramatic disconnect in order to focus the audience’s attention on a character’s disguise.

We need only to think back to Don Pelagio’s composed aria for another example. In that

case, Haydn uses the musical-dramatic disconnect to both point out that Don Pelagio is not a great composer as well as to satirize the genre of opera seria. This kind of “affect” discrepancy/disconnect becomes Haydn’s method of double mockery – mocking both the genre and the man. In the case of this quartet, the disconnect that occurs while the notaries are stalling should cause Sempronio to worry. However, Sempronio willingly accepts all of their excuses. Haydn is showing us, yet again, that Sempronio the dreamer can never be anything more than a fool. While the notaries’ plan appears to be falling apart, they keep the section within the dominant, never yielding harmonic control to the apothecary. Sempronio orders them to finish their contracts and Mengone responds, echoing the exact pitches of his melody (mm. 48-51). Volpino leaps in to rescue

Mengone as they both declare that the contract cannot be completed until Grilletta has spoken. Sempronio concedes (mm. 61-62, brief return to tonic) and Grilletta brings this brief section to a close, as she too stalls in the hopes that she can talk her way out of this agreement (mm. 62-67). The section ends with a fermata as though Grilletta is pausing to gather her thoughts before the music returns to Sempronio’s “dication” music in measure

68.

Yet, there is something not quite right about the return to the “dictation” music.

While we have returned to the music of the first section, complete with the scribbling string motive, we do not return to the tonic. Grilletta is doing her best not to arouse suspicion, but clearly does not want to marry her guardian. While the motivic material mimics Sempronio’s dictation, the mode betrays her psychological state. As Grilletta states that her heart shall indeed be her guardian’s, the quartet moves to the relative minor

(f-sharp minor). She is singing about something that should be joyous, but it is clearly

not a fate that she desires and the key area here gives that away. For the first time since we heard the notaries’ hearts sink in measures 10 and 11, the music matches the singer’s emotional state. The words are happy (I will give my heart to my guardian…and promise to love him/“Sarà il mio coro il mio tutore…Giuro d’amorlo.”), but the accompanying music is not. In her analysis of the quartet, Green suggests that the musical return of

Sempronio’s dictation indicates that Grilletta has been listening, but that “through her re- composition of the contract, Grilletta assumes an authority previously denied her, and, consequently participates in the duping of Sempronio.”33 Grilletta falters, prompting

Sempronio to continue speaking for her as things get harmonically unstable. She is only willing to state that she will love him, as he reminds her that such a commitment will last until death (mm. 70-75). Mengone and Volpino complicate matters as they seem to be working at crossed purposes, Volpino echoing Sempronio’s interjections while Mengone echoes Grilletta’s dictation.

Sensing the precariousness of the situation, the notaries declare that their contracts are complete and order the newlyweds to sign their copies. Haydn quickly reverts back to the “stalling” music as Sempronio demands to read the contract before he signs it. He sings the same melody twice (mm. 82-83; mm. 85-86) each time assured by one of the notaries (Mengone and Volpino also share the same exact melody here) that such a demand is unnecessary. Grilletta and Sempronio then pick up the melody sung by the notaries, singing in unison, insisting that they read the contracts. At the same time, they pull the quartet into new territory moving to V/V/V (mm. 90-94). This is the first time in

33 Green, “From Agapito to Sempronio,” 99.

the entire number that Grilletta and Sempronio work together, as well as Mengone and

Volpino.

The notaries grant Sempronio’s and Grilletta’s requests and turn their contracts over to the newlyweds, which brings us back to the original dictation music in the tonic

(m.97). Sempronio and Grilletta alternate phrases, completing each others’ sentences, until they get up to the place where Mengone and Volpino wrote-in their own names.

Although Volpino and Mengone make asides, informing us (the audience) that danger is imminent, Haydn again gives us little in the way of musical clues. In this case, there is no need for them. We already know what is going to happen, we just do not know the consequences.

At this point, the quartet enters the final section (presto, 3/8, dominant) as the necessary dramatic confusion ensues. What I find most interesting about this point (m.

110) is that Mengone and Volpino begin it by observing that they are both notaries.

Neither notices that the other is a fake, nor do Sempronio or Grilletta. They demand to know why those names have been inserted into the contracts without realizing that neither man is who he claims to be. At long last, Mengone and Volpino realize what is going on and they reveal each other’s identities to the angry couple. Until this point, the two frauds seemed to work together, forming a united front against Sempronio. They try to smooth things over, proclaiming, “Long live the spouses!” (mm. 138-139, 142-143) while also trying to regain control of the piece and return it to the original key of order and decorum, A-major.

Mengone and Volpino are finally successful in pulling the piece back to the tonic, but they cannot appease Sempronio and Grilletta. Although the quartet ends

homophonically, the two pairs are each singing different text. The chaos of the failed marriage ceremony is hidden by the apparent musical order in measures 160 through 173.

Perhaps this is because, in some way, order has indeed been regained and success has been achieved. Grilletta did not really want to marry Sempronio and she escaped this fate. Mengone and Volpino wanted to sabotage the wedding and they have indeed managed to do so. Perhaps the only character who has not gotten what he wanted at the end of the quartet is Sempronio, thus making him more vulnerable to the fake Turks who will arrive in the next act.

Although only two numbers from the third act of Lo speziale survive,

“Salamelica, Semprugna cara” and the finale, “Signor Sempronio”, this is the act that receives the most scholarly attention. Any discussion of Lo speziale in the literature mentions this act, whether it is to compare Haydn’s operatic “exotica” with his instrumental “exotica” or simply to comment on its comic content.34 That means that the scholarship really focuses on one rather short number that occurs near the conclusion of the opera, “Salamelica, Semprugna cara”.35 In his Chronicle and Works, H. C. Robbins

Landon goes so far as to refer to the music in this act as the most original in the entire opera, despite the fact that the act has not survived in its entirety. Writing about the questionable trend of rather short third acts, Landon singles out the final act of Lo speziale, stating that Haydn “reserves his most interesting music for the flagging third

34 See Matthew Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms: ‘difference’ and the Enlightenment,” The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Clark, “Haydn in the theater”; Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2; Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 375 “With its oscillating figure between the tonic and the third degree, its Lydian fourths, and its bizarre tonal (or rather, nontonal) progressions, this aria offers a standard with which to measure the occasional exotica in Haydn’s purely instrumental music.” 35 The other number, “Signor Sempronio” is a three-part finale that consists of each character reacting to Grilletta and Mengone marrying, first as a mini solo, then in duets (Grilletta and Mengone followed by Volpino and Sempronio), and then finally a closing quartet of sorts.

act.”36 Landon states that reserving his most interesting music until the third act is

Haydn’s simplest but most effective trick. Webster and Feder also single out this act in their brief summary of Haydn’s secular vocal works for Grove. They write that the work

“has many new features, including a ‘Turkish’ aria with ‘exotic’ key-relations and rhythms.”37 Yes, the harmonic progression of the aria is rather strange, but the rhythms are straightforward without any kind of syncopation or dotted rhythms. Additionally, the aria is in a duple meter that changes to a triple near the end and adheres rather strictly to four-bar phrases.38 This music is possibly the least original music in the opera as Haydn relies on relatively standard eighteenth-century Turkish tropes. In fact, Turkey becomes a kind of catch-all of exoticism here as Volpino – with Sempronio and the others following suit – confuse a number of unrelated countries, peoples, and customs in order to pull off their plot of deception.

At the beginning of the third act, Volpino claims to have a letter in his possession from the King of the Moluccas that has arrived by way of Turkey and Persia.39

Sempronio reads the letter aloud, with occasional prompting. Apparently, the King is

36 Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 239. Regarding third acts, Landon writes that “one of the peculiarities of much comic opera at this period is the tiny third act which was, as it were, pasted on the more substantial first two acts. This third act is often so much of an afterthought that one wonders why the Italians, Goldoni included, were so attached to the tradition.” Landon states that this is Haydn’s simplest but most effective trick. 37 Webster and Feder. "Haydn, Joseph." In Grove Music Online. (accessed September 12, 2010). 38 Lazarevich, “Haydn the Italian Comic Intermezzo Tradition,” 380. Lazarevich cites its musical structure as an excellent example of slapstick. She writes that Volpino’s aria, “is an excellent example of slapstick through its emphasis on the interval of the third, the squareness of the 4-bar phrase, the unorthodox harmonic progression and its mock Turkish language.” 39 Act II, sc. i. Sempronio reads the letter out loud: “Il re delle Molucche m’ha mandato in Italia a provveder di droghe, di cordiali e siroppi un capital, e vuol al suo servizio uno speziale…Vedendo che la peste fece strage l’altr’anno, Vuol riparar il danno con introdurre de’ medicamenti…Ei manda due Bassà carichi di casnà…Con ordine di seco trasportare in Turchia un buon spezial ed una spezieria.”/ “The King of the Moluccas has sent to Italy for a large supply of drugs, cordials and syrups and needs an apothecary…Seeing that the plague wreaked havoc last year, he plans to repair the damage by introducing medicines…He is sending two pashas with abundant casnas with orders to take a good apothecary and his shop back to Turkey.”

sending two pashas to bring an apothecary back to Turkey. After Sempronio has read the announcement, he exits to ready himself for the arrival of the Turks while Volpino announces to the audience that he shall now go and dress like a Turk and that, in doing so, he shall somehow ensure that Grillletta will be his. This announcement signals that this act of disguise will differ from that of the notary disguise in the second act. Volpino does not bother to inform us of his intentions in the second act, but here he must explicitly explain his actions.

Sempronio and Volpino return to the stage in the fourth scene after an unrelated reconciliation scene between Mengone and Grilletta (Act III, sc. iii), both of whom are dressed as Turks and followed by an unnumbered group of fake Turks. Volpino, speaking poorly conjugated Italian, reminds the apothecary that Grilletta must marry him before they depart (“Prima che ti partira, bisogna ricordara, che aver pupilla a me sposara”/ “Before you leave, you must remember, that your ward must marry me”). It should come as no surprise to anyone that Sempronio’s fascination with the rest of the world would quickly triumph over his desire to marry his ward. In fact, he unintentionally reveals that he simply desired her wealth, now dismissing this desire with the statement that he shall get rich in Turkey. Having successfully convinced the foolish apothecary, Volpino launches into a strange Turkish number that celebrates Sempronio,

“Salamelica, Semprugna cara.”

There is no denying that Volpino’s performance of the Turkish aria merits further discussion, but not solely because of its “Turkish” elements. In fact, Volpino’s performance parallels Don Pelagio’s performance of “Io sposar” in La canterina, except that the fake Turk succeeds where the maestro fails. Like Don Pelagio in the voice lesson

scene, Volpino’s performance becomes the showpiece of the act. Also like the maestro,

Volpino is performing a well-known genre – except that in this case he is performing a

European conception of what Turkish music might sound like. Again, as in the other instances of disguise in this opera, Haydn’s critique is not self-reflexive. Instead,

Volpino’s performance pokes fun at the Enlightenment fascination with the exotic. Both performers are certainly frauds and, as in the case of Don Pelagio’s misconceived opera seria aria, Haydn employs certain compositional clues that mock both the performers and the genre in question at the same time. Like the voice lesson scene in La canterina, and like the other examples of disguise in this opera, Volpino’s fake Turkish aria is another example of a multi-layered meta-performance.

The first layer of this performance is that of Haydn’s actual role as a western

European composer. Like Don Pelagio’s aria, Haydn is working with a pre-existing genre. Head even suggests that Volpino’s aria is a type of Hungarian popular dance itself called “in the Turkish style” (Törökös). Developed during the period of Ottoman rule, this genre was popular in central Hungary and was performed at weddings by dancers in pseudo-Turkish costumes.40 I am not trying to debate the authenticity of Haydn’s attempt at Turkish style, and the evolution of the alla turca style is beyond the scope of this chapter. However, it must be pointed out that this catch-all, this so-called alla turca style, evolved out of a single genre of Turkish music – that of the Janissary band – and yet became the standard representation not only for everything Turkish, but also for anything remotely “oriental” in nature. Both Hunter and Jonathan Bellman compellingly

40 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 78-79. Head writes, “Haydn’s aria shares with the Törökös duple meter and a melodic motif in which scale-degrees 1 and 3 rebound. To these Haydn adds a folksy harmonic progression from chord V to IV that, in the context of court opera, breaks the rules of syntax according to which the subdominant chord prepares, but does not follow, the dominant.”

describe these initial encounters of Janissary music. In her discussion of the alla turca style in the late eighteenth century, Hunter notes that

Janissary (i.e., Turkish military) bands were among the principal agents of cultural exchange; they played quite frequently in Europe from the early eighteenth century on and were found in a number of European courts after the Polish and Russian monarch had ordered them in the 1720s.41

In his comparison of the alla turca style with the later style hongrois, Bellman points out that the European conception of Turkish Janissary music existed primarily in the

European composers’ imaginations. While the Viennese most likely heard Janissary music during the siege of 1683, the European (or Viennese) version – or “translation” of this style – continued to evolve on its own with very little contact with the original.42

Bellman notes that the Turkish style became the “first ‘standardized’ tongue for exoticism.43 So, the first layer of this meta-performance is that of a non-Turkish (i.e., a

European) composer writing an aria that is supposed to be Turkish (although, the fact that it is supposed to be fake Turkish further complicates the matter. It is easy to argue, then, that Haydn took whatever liberties he wanted since the Turk in question had already been established as a fake). Meaning that, if the genre is fake and the Turk is fake, Haydn may well do whatever he pleases.

41 Mary Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style in the Late Eighteenth Century: Race and Gender in the Symphony and the Seraglio,” The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998), 43. 42 Jonathan Bellman, The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1993), 31-45. Bellman refers to the 1683 encounter as an “ancien régime battle-of-the-bands”. He writes, “Indeed, part of the Janissaries’ regimen involved music played throughout the course of the battle, since without music the soldiers might falter. The instruments were primarily percussive, being varieties of cymbals and rums, while the horns they were described as playing had only one or two notes to contribute, note a whole melody. The noise level increased on July 31, when the Christian musicians were ordered to play while the Turks were doing the same thing, with the battle raging all the while and with each side registering scorn for the music of the other.” 43 Bellman, The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe, 24. Bellman continues “While certain gestures had been used to suggest ‘foreign’ ideas in operas before the Turkish Style emerged (for example, open fifths, chantlike writing, or gibberish arias), it was the first codified expression of the strange and exotic.”

This standardization of the alla turca style answers one of the key questions raised by Volpino’s performance. Despite the fact that Sempronio mentions a number of countries and peoples throughout the course of the opera, Volpino chooses to impersonate a Turk. Volpino’s fake announcement carefully weaves together aspects of different bits of global news and tidbits that the apothecary has shared with the other characters throughout the course of the opera. In the course of Sempronio’s first scene

(Act I, sc. ii-iii), the apothecary mentions the “Indians” of the Molucca Islands, a

Muscovite man in China, a Parisian pharmacist, a Babylonian soffa, the plague in

Turkey, and a satrap caught and executed for having sex in the Indies. Sempronio also mentions the Tartars, the Indies, and the Mongolians in the Act I finale. Volpino has a wealth of material from which to choose, but he settles on the Turks, stating that two pashas are being sent to bring Sempronio, as well as a large supply of drugs, cordials, and syrups back to Turkey in order to restore the people and country from the havoc of the plague.44 The average eighteenth-century composer would probably not have had any kind of exposure – especially musical exposure – to any of the cultures that Sempronio mentions throughout the course of the opera; however, they would have been able to utilize the standard alla turca conventions as a musical toolbox of sorts to whip up an acceptable, or at least passable by European standards, Turkish aria.

Despite Haydn’s reliance on standard musical tropes, an additional layer of performance elevates this aria from a simple western attempt at exotic music to a more pointed satirical barb. As I have already mentioned, there are no actual Turks in this opera. Instead, Volpino initiates the dramatic action and his competitor, Mengone,

44 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 77. Head states that Volpino later disguises himself as the King of the Moluccas, but this is not the case. Volpino is disguised as one of the pashas that the King has sent to summon Sempronio.

follows him. We are not treated to barbarous or salacious Turks here (although both men’s insistence on Grilletta’s hand might be taken as a passing reference to all the seraglio operas that will come later in the century).45 While Turks did become increasingly common in the genre – especially in the sub-genre of abduction operas – imposter Turks are uncommon occurrences in these works. The only other case of fraudulent Turks that I can think of is Lully’s setting of Jean-Baptiste Molière’s Le

Bourgeois Gentilhomme (1670).46 The Turkish aspect of this work bears some resemblance to Lo speziale in that a non-Turk is duped by a number of fake Turks. In the case of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, the fraudulent Turks go so far as to enact a dervish initiation.47 In the case of Lo speziale, the Turkish presence in this act offers little in the way of commentary on the Turk as Other here. In this case, the Turkish numbers, and

Sempronio’s eagerness to believe them, are meant to draw attention to Sempronio’s foolishness – and perhaps to the trend of travel literature that was then in vogue.

The lyrics of Volpino’s Turkish song are nonsensical:

Salamelica, Semprugna cara. Constantinupola sempre cantara, sempre ballara, dadl dadl dadl dadl dara.

45 Bellman, The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe, 32. “Such operas were highly successful; the popular image of the Turk represented in them centered on promiscuous sexuality (the European interpretation of Islamic polygamy) and violence.” 46 Lazarevich, “Haydn and the Italian Comic Intermezzo Tradition,” 380. Lazarevich mentions another set of fake Turks in Hasse’s La Contadina. “Tabarano and a number of friends disguised as Turks are waiting in ambush for Scintilla and her lover who are in the process of escaping. The fake Turks plan to foil the escape and teach Scintilla a lesson for her daring act by pretending to imprison her male companion and make a slave out of her. The scene contains a liberal sprinkling of Turkish words, involves pantomime, and culminates with Tabarano’s unmasking, much to Scintilla’s surprise.” 47 Miriam K. Whaples, “Early Exoticism Revisited,” The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University, Press, 1998), 11. Whaples summarizes the plot as follows: The title character, Jourdain, rejects his daughter Lucile’s suitor, Cléonte. Cléonte then convinces Jourdain that the son of the Grand Turk wishes to marry his daughter. “But because the young prince (who will be played, of course by Cléonte himself) cannot wed a commoner, his future father-in-law must be raised to a suitable rank of Turkish nobility.” Whaples continues that the initiation scene that follows is unique in that it does not depict a single non-European character. All of the so-called Turks are actually Frenchmen pretending to be Turks as they pretend to initiate Jourdain.

Salamelica, dear Sempronio, Constantinople always be singing, always be dancing.

Head describes the lyrics, writing that they are “Italian derived gibberish, standing in for

Turkish, while the last two lines refer ungrammatically to singing and dancing, as if in celebration of the impending wedding.”48 Of course the disguised Volpino would sing in bad Italian because he is portraying a Turk who is trying to communicate with

Sempronio. Bellman notes that such gibberish was a common gesture used to suggest foreignness in operas before the standardization of the Turkish style.49 Again, Volpino is savvy enough to adopt another signifier of foreignness. If he sang in good Italian,

Sempronio might suspect that all is not right, but singing in this “gibberish” implies that he is singing in broken Italian thus allowing him to maintain his disguise and ensuring that this brief glimmer of exoticism is linked with humor.

The aria is formally simple. Haydn does not bother experimenting with the dramatic capabilities of sonata or da capo forms here and the number adheres to all the standard scholarly descriptions of eighteenth-century alla turca style. Musically, Haydn uses instruments that have not been in any of the other musical numbers in the opera, adding a violone in place of the bass, and the bassoon makes its lone appearance in the opera. In addition to these newcomers, Haydn also adds an additional pizzicato violin part. It is worth noting that the score does not explicitly call for any percussion instruments, the so-called hallmarks of European attempts at Turkish-style music.

The duple-metered D-major aria begins with a fifteen-measure ritornello that consists of four-bar phrases that move from the tonic to the dominant and then the

48 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 77. 49 Bellman, The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe, 24.

subdominant back to the tonic (see example 2.6, mm. 1-13, with brief tonic “tag” in mm.

14 -15). The first eight measures are accompanied by long, sustained “drones” provided by the oboes, bassoon, and horns. While the first four measures seem self-contained, concluding with an eighth-note rest in measure four, the next two sets of four-measure phrases seem to bleed into one another, the violins moving ahead although the other strings are resting.

The brass and woodwind drones drop out when Volpino enters in measure 16, interjecting in the two-measure rests that occur between his phrases. The music and the harmonic progression remain virtually identical to the fifteen-measure ritornello as

Volpino sings the first two lines of text (“Salamelica, Semprugna cara.

Constantinupola.”) before deviating from the ritornello in measures 28 and 29. Rather than returning to the tonic here, the ensemble moves to the subdominant for two measures. The musical texture changes in measure 30. Volpino sings the same motive twice, doubled by the first violins as the formerly woodwind drone moves to the second violin and cello parts. At this point, the music moves to e-minor despite the fact that

Volpino is singing about singing and dancing (see example 2.7, mm. 30-37).

Example 2.6 “Salamelica, Semprugna cara” (mm. 1-15), opening ritornello

Example 2.6 continued

Example 2.7 “Salamelica, Semprugna cara” (mm. 30-37), e-minor section

After Volpino has concluded singing about, well, dancing and singing, the orchestra interjects with an eight-measure ritornello that returns back to the dominant just as suddenly as Volpino had moved to e-minor. The drones return here, and the whole passage consists of swirling A-major scales with a raised fourth scale degree over a dominant pedal. It is as though Haydn is indicating that the Turks do not really know the rules of “good” composition (see mm. 38-45). Volpino re-enters in measure 46 with the first line of text and now firmly in the tonic again. However, he does not sing the melody from the opening. Instead, he now sings the motive he first presented in the minor section. He also interjects with nonsense syllables between the lines of text between phrases as though he is getting too excited to finish his thoughts (mm. 46-53).

The orchestra interjects with a brief four-measure ritornello in measures 54 through 57, again suddenly shifting harmonically from the tonic of D-major to B-major

(V/V/V). When Volpino re-enters in measure 58, he remains in B-major for four measures before returning to E-major (V/V) and remains in this area until he concludes his phrase in 67. At this point, the section closes with the aria firmly in E-major.

The aria then shifts to a triple presto until the close of the number (mm. 68-94). The aria also moves to the dominant of D-major here and Volpino sings for sixteen measures straight without a rest or orchestral interjection, mentioning the constant singing and dancing over and over and over again. At this point, Head’s reading of the implied festivities of a wedding celebration seems relevant.

As I have already mentioned, the performer, Volpino, is not the satirical target of this performance. As his previous behavior and my descriptions have already indicated,

Sempronio functions as the fool within the world of this cast of characters. Obviously,

his behavior is meant for comic effect and I am not alone in designating Sempronio the fool in this cast of characters.50 Both Heartz, in his brief discussion of Lo speziale in

Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, and Head, equate Sempronio’s obsession with the news with his foolishness.51 While neither Head nor Heartz necessarily make this a causal relationship, it is clear that Sempronio’s obsession with the news renders him oblivious to daily life and also serves as a signifier of his bumbling foolishness. His desire to know more about exotic places also makes him more likely to fall for fakery and fraud because people know they can exploit this fantasy. After all, one of Sempronio’s arias in the first act focuses on a competition between the arena in Verona and the (bell) tower in Cremona to see which is older. Head also picks up on Sempronio’s complete unawareness of the world around him, noting that his “preoccupation with world news renders him oblivious to events closer at home.”52 He is so obsessed with the day’s events, believing that he can even end foreign disputes that he does not notice that

Grilletta and Mengone are involved in a romantic relationship. Nor does he realize – or care – that his apprentice is doing all of the work in the shop. He reads the paper aloud to his apprentice, oblivious to both the needs of his employee and of his customers.

Although he proclaims rather loudly to anyone who will listen that he intends to marry his ward, he seems much more focused on the world’s news than on proceeding forward with any kind of matrimonial arrangements.53 Instead, he would rather that everyone in

50 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 375. Hearttz refers to Sempronio as a “Pantaloon figure of a novel kind.” 51 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 375. Heartz believes that Sempronio’s “novelty” lies in his obsession with “newspapers, maps, and geographical lore.” 52 Matthew Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 77. 53 Sempronio lucks into this potential marriage after Grilletta has had her Act II argument with Mengone. This marriage is nothing more than an attempt at revenge, a means by which Grilletta hopes to hurt her

the shop know that the Indians of the Molucca islands can make wigs out of iron or that a

Muscovite man in China gave birth54. Events like these become his focus and he ignores all of Mengone’s pleas for assistance. He becomes so consumed by his maps and globes that he nearly allows Grilletta to marry Mengone in the Act I concluding trio. Each time he exits the stage, the lovers come close to proclaiming their love to each other, and then he obliviously returns and thwarts their attempts as he blusters his way through prescriptions for world peace.

The opening paragraph of Miriam K. Whaples’ essay, “Early Exoticism

Revisited,” neatly sums up Sempronio’s worldview:

[T]he entire non-European world was seen as no more than theater, an endless Arabian Nights entertainment. Nothing of any lasting import could happen there; its people – so long as they were not actually fighting one’s armies or besieging one’s cities – were imaginary creatures whose deeds and words could be edifying or farcical, as one chose. Their principal occupation was to inhabit unusual landscapes and architecture and to wear astonishing costumes.55

Ultimately, it is Sempronio’s fascination with this theater of the world that is his undoing.

Head notes that Goldoni’s libretto “at once indulges and ridicules his period’s fascination with the fabulous, unnatural, and irrational incidents in far-flung climes reported in journalism and travel writings.”56 Nothing makes this ignorant fascination more apparent than Sempronio’s willingness to believe Volpino’s so-called announcement from the

King of the Moluccas that he shares with the apothecary in the first scene of Act III.

Both Sempronio’s and Volpino’s mixing together of various “exotic” cultures plays right into Whaples’ and Head’s assessment of eighteenth-century exoticism. This

beloved. See Act II, scenes iv and v. Sempronio inititates a discussion of Grilletta’s future and she finishes his sentences, pushing him towards a marriage contract. 54 This news is relayed during the recitative that precedes the above-mentioned aria. 55 Miriam K. Whaples, “Early Exoticism Revisited,” 3. 56 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 77.

mélange of unrelated cultural references further indicates that Sempronio’s a fool.

Leaving aside what a contemporary audience might have known about the Moluccas – an archipelago that would later become a part of Indonesia – this announcement makes

Sempronio’s ignorance blatantly clear. Yet Sempronio, probably much like many in the audience, does not bother to separate the two. Rather, it does not matter to him that

Volpino is conflating two different cultures or countries. Instead, these random exotic names simply go on to form another example of Whaples’ “theater of the world”. These places are not “here,” they are not Italy, and that is all that matters to Sempronio. His eagerness to believe Volpino’s announcement – we know nothing about Volpino; why would he even have such a document? – affirms his status as buffoon and also allows

Mengone and Volpino to pull off their success at the end of the opera and, in doing so, offers commentary on the European fascination – or, perhaps, burgeoning obsession – with the “Other” in Italian comic opera.

While Sempronio does not actively engage in any form of disguise or deceit, his attention to random facts creates a kind of pseudo-knowledge that both masks his ignorance from himself and makes him a more susceptible victim. In a sense, the central

“disguise” of the entire opera is Sempronio’s disguise as a man of learning. What he knows is pseudo-knowledge, gleaned from him atlases and newspapers, and everyone in the opera recognizes this except himself. In this respect he is a lot like Don Pelagio, a man who certainly knows about music, but whose knowledge is faulty. Sempronio clearly loves knowledge, but he sees knowledge as a thing, an accumulation of facts and that ultimately proves to be his weakness. He does not really understand what true learning is all about, but fools himself into thinking that he does. Again, this makes the

deceptive acts of Lo speziale different from those seen in La canterina for these deceptions are not satirically self-reflexive; rather, they make Sempronio the satirical target,not the characters engaged in deceitful behavior. It is Sempronio’s lack of self- awareness that allows the other characters to succeed and this dramatic strategy is not unique to Lo speziale. We shall meet another even more unaware foolish protagonist in Il mondo della luna. In some ways, the very nature of knowledge itself is questioned, critiqued, and satirized in these works. These men are each charlatans who fall prey to deceivers, thus feeding our fears about our own abilities to know the motives of others.

CHAPTER THREE

L’INCONTRO IMPROVVISO: DECEITFUL DERVISHES, HUNGRY

SERVANTS, AND SERIA CHARACTERS IN DISGUISE

Unlike La canterina and Lo speziale, the primary acts of disguise and deception in

L’incontro improvviso are not motivated by romantic goals or desires. Despite its exotic setting, abduction plot, and cast of non-European characters, this work does little to provide any commentary on the contemporary trend of exoticism. In fact, the

“exoticness” of the primary deceiver in this cast, a morally corrupt fake mendicant dervish (the Calender), is almost completely irrelevant to the plot and to his successes and failures. Yes, the Calender functions as the villain in L’incontro improvviso, but his status as antagonist has nothing to do with his exotic roots. That is not to say that

L’incontro improvviso does not explore themes that we have already seen elsewhere. The

Calender is rather like La canterina’s Apollonia in that we know he is not who he says he is right from the opera’s opening, but we never find out anything about his past. While the audience is privy to the truth behind his dissembling, much as we were able to catch

Apollonia at her make-up table, we can never be quite sure if he ever was a dervish or not. Like all of the characters in La canterina, the Calender’s game of deceit is already in play when the opera opens. His most significant performance, that of the fake alms begging song “Castagno, castagna,” as well as the slave Osmin’s later attempt to replicate the song, forms a nice counterpoint to Volpino’s performance of “Salamelica Semprugna

cara” in Lo speziale. While Volpino appropriates a European version of a supposedly

Turkish aria, here we have a non-European character singing a bowdlerized version of a non-Western religious song. Also, while in previous operas the deceivers and dissemblers have essentially escaped unscathed, here the Calender is ultimately punished.

While I have argued elsewhere that a character’s self-knowledge is imperative to their successes as a deceiver, that is not the case in L’incontro improvviso. It is obvious that the Calender knows his own limitations, having lived a life of deception that pre-dates the action that occurs in this opera, and yet, he fails and is ultimately punished at the opera’s conclusion while Osmin manages to make it through the opera safe and sound.

L’incontro improvviso was composed as part of the festivities that surrounded the visit of Archduke Ferdinand, Habsburg governor of Milan, and his wife, Maria Beatrice d’Este, in 1775.1 Like the other operas explored in this dissertation, Haydn’s L’incontro improvviso was a re-working of a pre-existing libretto. The original, La Rencontre imprévue, by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt was itself a reworking of an older French vaudeville by Alain-René Lesage and D’Orneval called Les pélerins de la Mecque

(1726). Dancourt’s version was ultimately set by Gluck and was his last opera comique for Vienna, premiering 7 January 1764 at the Burgtheater.2 Haydn’s version was part of

1 Caryl Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 183. H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, Haydn At Eszterháza, 1766-1790 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 262. Landon writes that “L’incontro improvviso was at least prepared by Girizk for performance at the Erdödy Theatre in Pressburg. Whether the performance took place is doubtful, however…” 2 Bruce Alan Brown. "Rencontre imprévue, La." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O007121 (accessed November 3, 2010) as well as Brown’s “Gluck’s Rencontre Imprévue and its Revisions,” Journal of the American Musicological Society, vol. 36, no. 3 (1983), 498-518. Gluck’s original version of this libretto was revised after the death of Joseph II’s wife, Isabella of Parma, because of plot resemblances (Princess Rezia’s death). Haydn and Friberth kept the cast of characters the same, only eliminating a superfluous (to the plot) mad French painter named Vertigo and one of Rezia’s slaves. See also Eric Rice, “Representations of

a four-day whirlwind of courtly entertainment designed to impress the Archduke. Caryl

Clark lists just some of the spectacles from the visit:

a huge masquerade ball, a performance of Symphony no. 60 “Il distratto” (The distracted man) featuring a theatrical pantomime, an all-night illumination of the garden, and the feudalistic rallying of Croatian and Hungarian peasants dancing and singing folksongs.3

Clark writes that, as part of the festivities, Haydn and his musicians also performed in

“Oriental costume” in the Chinese Pavilion.4 While peasants singing folksongs are, as

Clark describes, live displays of local exotica, the choice of L’incontro improvviso certainly was in keeping with the eighteenth-century fascination with the east.5 Although the exoticism displayed in an abduction opera should come as no surprise, Haydn and

Friberth’s adaptation/reworking of Gluck’s La Rencontre imprévue (1764) shifts much of the focus of the first act to the fraudulent ways of the Calender who does not (and will not) adhere to his religious station in life.6

The plot of L’incontro improvviso follows the basic conventions of the eighteenth-century abduction opera – royal or noble lovers have been separated and are eventually reunited through the benevolence of a Sultan or Pasha. Prince Ali of Balsóra arrives in Cairo with his servant Osmin in search of his beloved, Princess Rezia of Persia.

Ali, who had ended up in Persia after some kind of dispute with his brother, fell in love

Janissary Music (Mehter) as Musical Exoticism in Western Compositions,” Journal of Musicological Research, vol. 19 (1999), 65. 3 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 183. 4 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 183. 5 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 183. 6 Sulivan, Richard Joseph, Sir. Philosophical rhapsodies. Fragments of Akbur of Betlis. Containing reflections on the laws, manners, customs and religions, of certain Asiatic, Afric, and European nations. ... By Richard Joseph Sulivan, Esq. In three volumes. ... Vol. Volume 2. London, 1784-85. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 28 Nov. 2010, http://find.galegroup.com.resources.library.brandeis.edu/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&ty pe=multipage&tabID=T001&prodId=ECCO&docId=CW3304243507&source=gale&userGroupName=mli n_m_brandeis&version=1.0&docLevel=FASCIMILE, 337. According to Sulivan, a Calender was a lower order of Muslim recluse.

with Rezia, whose father had already promised her hand to another man. When the couple tried to flee and elope, they were captured by pirates and separated. In turn, Rezia and her ladies-in-waiting were sold into the Sultan of Egypt’s harem where Rezia has become the Sultan’s favorite. After hearing of a sighting of her beloved in Cairo, Rezia sends her ladies out to test Ali’s fidelity. Only after Ali has passed Rezia’s test, refusing to be charmed by these other women, does the princess present herself to her long-lost beloved. The reunion of the separated lovers is the “unexpected meeting” to which the title of the opera refers. The happiness of their reunion is brief for they quickly become occupied with figuring out a way to escape from Cairo and the Sultan, who is conveniently away on an eight-day hunting trip. Unfortunately, the Sultan returns early and, although he threatens to punish the lovers, he proves himself to be the stereotypical enlightened “other”, ultimately showing the couple clemency and allowing them to be reunited unharmed.7 H.C. Robbins Landon refers to the Sultan’s pardon as “a magnanimous gesture that must have quickened every Enlightened heartbeat.”8

While the plight of the royal lovers should be the main focus of the opera, it is overshadowed by a comic subplot, that of the servant Osmin’s interactions with the

Calender and his eventual indoctrination into a fictitious dervish lifestyle (which is predicated by the servant’s love of food and money). The lifestyle that Osmin finds so appealing is not one of a real, historic dervish. In fact, the only dervishes we encounter throughout the course of this opera are fakes. Theirs is a corrupted way of life, one that

7 Matthew Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms: ‘difference’ and the Enlightenment,” The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 80. The Sultan claims to have known all along about Rezia’s true identity. Head refers to the Sultan’s behavior as a transformation from “tyrant to forgiving tolerant ruler.” However, we only hear about the Sultan from Rezia. Perhaps he has been benevolent the entire time? Michael McGrade points out that the Sultan’s “otherness” does not necessarily have to be represented as merciful; it might be his role as monarch that has to be represented as merciful and that Ferdinand and Nicholas might have identified with this ruler ex officio. 8 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 263.

does not adhere to the religious principles of the dervish order. In his work on the representation of dervishes on the western stage, Nasser Al-Taee defines a dervish as belonging to “the Mevlevi order founded by the followers of Jalal al-Din Muhammad

Rumi in the thirteenth century shortly following the poet’s death.”9 Members of the sect are supposed to abandon earthly pleasures in “favor of a spiritual destiny.”10 While scholars discussing the Calender refer to him as a dervish, Al-Taee notes the distinction between dervishes and Calenders, defining the latter as another mystic group within Sufi

Islam.11 Since it is unlikely that either Dancourt (with Gluck) or Friberth (with Haydn) would know about this distinction – and that scholars such as Ralph Locke call the

Calender a dervish – I shall keep referring to the Calender as a dervish (especially because he does whirl, an act associated with dervishes, during his alms-begging performance). Locke refers to the Calender as a fake who “brazenly takes alms from passersby.”12 Ever the quick learner, the crafty servant Osmin does not choose to join the

Calender for religious reasons. When he is ultimately discovered attempting to beg alms from his master partway through the first act, the servant is perfectly blunt. Ali asks,

“What masquerade is this?” to which Osmin replies, “It is a protection from hunger.”13 It should be noted that Ali immediately recognizes his servant Osmin’s attempted

9 Nasser Al-Taee, “Whirling Fanatics: Orientalism, Politics, and Religious Rivalry in Western Operatic Representation of the Orient,” Musicological Identities: Essays in Honor of Susan McClary, ed. Steven Baur, Raymond Knapp, and Jacqueline Warwick (Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2008), 22. 10 Al-Taee, “Whirling Fanatics,” 22. 11 Al-Taee, “Whirling Fanatics,” 22. 12 Ralph P. Locke, Musical Exoticisms: Images and Reflections (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 112. Locke writes, “Early on in La rencontre imprevue, we witness the machinations of a wandering dervish. More accurately, he is a fake-dervish who brazenly takes alms from passersby.” 13 See Act I, sc. vii, number 17, mm. 3-5. Ali: “Questa maschera cos’è?” Osmin: “È una preservative contro la fame.”

performance as a dervish, and his subsequent failure, will be discussed in greater detail below.

The Calender, a character whose moral standards are dubious, proves to be Ali’s foil, as he tries to claim the Sultan’s reward for capturing the fleeing lovers. Where Ali refuses to be seduced by other women in his single-minded quest for Rezia, the Calender refuses to be seduced by potential friendships in his single-minded quest for spoils. The period’s fascination with the Oriental and exotic Muslim Other notwithstanding, it is lazy to argue that the Calender is inherently bad because he is not a Christian, for that is not the case here. Regardless, it is clear that he is the villain of the opera – while the threat of the Sultan’s wrath looms large off-stage. Yet, the Sultan ultimately proves himself to be harmless, changing the Calender’s initial death sentence to exile. Al-Taee refers to the

Calender as “the epitome of the evil Muslim character,” but again, it is not his faith that makes him “evil”.14 While he is a non-Western character, he might not necessarily even really be Muslim. Mary Hunter’s identification of the Calender as an ‘anti-ideal’ better represents his role in the work.15 In this case, Prince Ali, although a non-westerner, plays a European-fashioned ideal character against the barbarous Calender. In his discussion of the opera in an essay on Haydn’s exoticisms, Matthew Head states that the Calender’s exclusion from the opera’s happy ending “compromises the opera’s discourse of universal humanity and indicates that a specifically non-European ‘Other’ helped to define the European Enlightenment’s vision of global brotherhood by establishing a limit

14 Al-Taee, “Whirling Fanatics,” 24. Al-Taee does not discuss the alms-begging song and his focus is on Gluck’s and not Haydn’s version. Instead, he cites the Calender’s drinking aria in Act III, calling the character a “slimy figure”. 15 Mary Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style in the Late Eighteenth Century: Race and Gender in the Symphony and the Seraglio,” in The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998), 58.

to that inclusivity.”16 Yet, it is clear throughout the opera that the only character who even remotely trusts the dervish is Osmin and, while he is loyal to his master, he does not exactly have concern for anyone aside from himself. No, the reason for the Calender’s failure is much simpler. He fails – and is therefore the “villain” of the opera – because he is not who he says he is. He is an imposter. Moreover, it can be argued that he fails because he is undermining what he claims – remember, not overtly, only when begging for alms – to be his religious calling. Arguably, he is punished because he is faking his

Muslim faith solely in the hopes of filling his purse and larder. A true dervish would be above such things. Just as we saw in La canterina and Lo speziale, we are again faced with a character whose life of deception proves to be his moral downfall. While we cannot blame the Calender for the same lack of self-knowledge that we saw in both Don

Pelagio and Sempronio, the importance of honesty is central to all of these works. I will show that the Calender’s subplot overshadows that of the lovers, becoming the real focus of Haydn’s setting.

Unlike the masquerading, dissembling characters we met in Lo Speziale and La

Canterina, the Calendar shamelessly describes the act of assuming a disguise. In Lo speziale, neither Mengone nor Volpino explicitly states his plan of action to the audience.

Instead, they simply arrive on stage pretending to be someone else. The Calender of

L’incontro improvviso is quite different in this respect. And, like Apollonia’s coaching of her daughter from her makeup table in La Canterina, we get to watch this imposter teach Osmin how to follow in his footsteps. While Apollonia and her daughter come very close to failing, the finta madre is ultimately able to coach Gasperina through their

16 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 81.

near eviction and public humiliation. In the case of L’incontro improvviso, we witness the Calender’s – and to a lesser extent, Osmin’s – failure. The fake dervish does not escape the opera unscathed as does his female counterpart in La canterina. Although

Osmin does get to experience the happy ending prescribed by the Sultan, he fails when he attempts to perform the role of dervish and fool his master.

The opera begins with a four-part overture. While a Turkish style overture would certainly be expected, Haydn begins the overture with a triple D-major adagio maestoso introduction before shifting to the exciting duple presto Turkish march that dominates most of the number. Landon refers to the overture as both brilliant and deservedly popular.17 Haydn then tucks in a 39-measure andantino triple section at measure 148 before resuming the excitement of the Turkish style in measure 188 for the rest of the number.18 While Eric Rice is critical of Haydn’s overture for not making use of actual

Turkish mehter features, his analysis of the composer’s use of Turkish themes is vital.

Rice writes that

Haydn’s overture incorporates ‘Turkish music’ as a theme in sonata form, subjecting it to the same procedures as Western themes instead of simply contrasting it with standard Western passages. This overture has a ‘Turkish’ theme, rather than simply passing itself off as ‘Turkish’.19

Again, Haydn’s use of Turkish music in the overture manages to point out that, despite the opera’s exotic setting and occasional exotic characters, the non-European hero and heroine behave in a rather “European” manner. There is no air of “otherness” about them. As Head notes

17 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 263. Landon writes, “With its exotic Turkish percussion – including the mystery of tuned bass drums in D and A – and racy rhythms, as well as the delicately orchestrated Andantino with ‘cello solo, it was bound to be an instant success. It was one of the six Overtures that Haydn detached from their respective works and sold to Artaria, who issued them in 1782.” 18 Eric Rice, “Representations of Janissary Music,” Journal of Musicological Research 19 (1999), 68-69. 19 Rice, “Representations of Janissary Music,” 69.

Since all of the characters in the opera are non-European, the opera does not stabilize a distinction between East and West, but again, universalizes its (distinctively European) preoccupations. The Eastern setting is a mirror-like representation of Europe in which an older despotic-feudal order is pitted against an emerging bourgeois realm that took “romantic love” between men and women as a sign of its broader ideals of liberty and sensibility.20

It must be noted that the Calender is the only character in the entire opera who has a non-

European sounding aria.21 The non-exotic thematic areas in the overture remind us that the opera’s Far East setting should not be our sole focus. Yet, these sections are dwarfed by the more thrilling Turkish sections, as though Haydn is hinting that something else will really be occupying the attention of the audience. And indeed, this becomes the case for most of the opera. The first four scenes consist primarily of the Calender and his fellow dervishes, followed by his interactions with Osmin. We know little about Ali and

Rezia, aside from what Osmin describes in his entrance aria and recitative.22 We glean a few things about Osmin’s situation after his entrance: his master is in love and they have arrived in Cairo without any money. (They have also been separated.) Daniel Heartz’s criticism of the lovers’ reunion is insightful. He compares Haydn and Friberth’s version with that of Gluck and Dancourt, writing that the latter

brought the long-lost lovers together in the middle of his libretto, as Ali and Rezia meet by chance in Cairo. Gluck made this the high point of his score, a duet of amazed enchantment, “Que vois-je! o ciel! c’est l’âme de ma vie!” (No. 17). Haydn and Friberth threw away even the possibility of such a dramatic moment by relegating the meeting of the lovers simple recitative (Act II, scene 3). It

20 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 81. 21 Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School: 1740-1780 (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1995), 387. Heartz refers to the Calender’s drinking song, “Il Profeta Maometto”, as another example of a Turkish-style aria, but it is not really as overt as the overture and “Castagno, castagna.” 22 Osmin enters in scene iii. He sings, “Love is a great rascal that makes the heart weep: it makes my master miserable and love knows it. But if love lets fly an arrow, it will not hit me, no: it laughs at my master, but I laugh at love.” “L’amore è un gran briccone che il cor piagando va: l’afflitto mio padrone lo sente, amor lo sa. Ma schocchi un saetone, da me non giunge, no: si rida del padrone, d’amor mi riderò”)

mattered not, apparently, that the opera took its very title from this unforeseen meeting.23

While the love story should be the focus of an abduction opera, Haydn and Friberth even add an additional number in order to make the Calender the focus of the first act.24 In fact, the chance meeting of Osmin and the Calender in scene four is just as integral to the plot of the opera; perhaps it too serves as another “unexpected meeting”.25 In Mary

Hunter’s comparison of the “low-Turk” characters of Osmin in Mozart’s Die Entführung and the Calender in Haydn’ L’incontro improvviso, she writes that the latter “with no power over the principal characters, has a much less direct role in the intrigue and functions more as a splash of exotic local color.”26 Yet, the Calender remains the focus for much of the first half of the first act. After all, despite Rezia’s sighting of Ali in the first act, the lovers are not reunited until the third scene of the second act. Also, the

“unexpected meeting” of Osmin and the dervish almost leads to Ali, Rezia, and Osmin’s downfall, for the Calender, while feigning to help them flee from Cairo, tries to turn them in to the Sultan for a rather large reward after promising to help them escape. This line of reasoning certainly justifies the structure of the first act and shows Haydn making the most of the comic elements of the opera. Regardless, the structure of the first act mimics the structure of the overture – fleeting reminders of the noble love story buried within.

23 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 387. 24 Haydn and Friberth also added the trio, “Mi sembra un sogno” in Act I, sc. v. It is sung by Rezia and her slaves. 25 Rezia and her servants, Balkis and Dardane, are introduced in Act I, sc. v. Ali enters in the following scene. 26 Mary Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style in the Late Eighteenth Century,” 59.

Rather than open the opera with Osmin’s canzonetta on love (as in Gluck’s version), Haydn and Friberth choose to begin the act in a mysterious warehouse.27 Aside from the cues given by the overture and the libretto, Haydn’s audience does not officially know that the opera takes place in Cairo until the second scene.28 The first scene opens with the Calender and his subordinates seated around a table smoking tobacco and merrily drinking wine. What makes this opening scene doubly interesting, leaving aside eighteenth-century obsessions with exoticism, is that it does not sound explicitly exotic.

It is as though Haydn is denoting the difference between the dervishes’ public and private lives. They are not trying to fool anyone within the safe confines of their warehouse and therefore do not have to assume the “costume” of a pious mendicant dervish. Aside from the overture and the libretto (and perhaps the funny costumes), the audience would have absolutely no idea – musically, that is – that these men were supposed to be mystical

Muslims. Gone are the percussion instruments and strange melodic leaps that are typical of eighteenth-century attempts at Janissary music. There is no chromaticism or strange phrase structure here either. Instead, the chorus of dervishes performs a straightforwardly

“Italianate” number.29 The men singing in unison do little to encourage exotic fantasies as they sing about their wine and tobacco in proper Italian.30 The men sing:

Che bevanda, che liquore! La dolcezza ed il sapore Fanno rallegar il cor. Su beviamo, evviva Bacco,

27 In fact, Haydn and his librettist (Friberth) add a new number between the overture and Osmin’s canzonetta, “L’amore è un gran briccone” (Act I, sc. iii; for comparison see Gluck’s Act I, sc. i in which Osmin sings, “Heureux l’amant qui se dépêtre de Cupidon”). 28 The libretto indicates that Act I, sc. ii, takes place in Cairo and even mentions the seraglio. Osmin explicitly mentions his location in the recitative that follows “L’amore è un gran briccone”. 29 D-major, duple Allegro. 30 See measures 17-56. The men sing, “Che bevanda, che liquore! La dolcezza ed il sapore fanno rallegrar il cor. Su beviamo, evviva Bacco, viva il vino ed il tabacco, viva il magazzino ancor.”

Viva il vino ed il tabacco, Viva il magazzino ancor.

What drink, what liquor! The sweetness and the flavor Make the heart cheer. We drink, long live Bacchus, Long live wine and tobacco, Long live this warehouse, too.

These are not foreigners speaking in gibberish or broken Italian. While Matthew Head does not explicitly discuss this number, it certainly supports his theory that “the Calender was also read in this period as a masked critique of monasticism within Europe.”31 This number is jarring and unexpected after the cliché-laden overture, and the audience must stop and take note of what it is that they are now privy to. This scene, in combination with Haydn’s musical treatment of the text, is no accident.

“Che bevanda, che liquore!” parallels a scene that I discussed in chapter one: the opening number of La canterina. The curtain opens and the audience sees Apollonia at her makeup table singing about the splendors of theatrical makeup. The audience encounters this imposter putting on the face of the character that she will play through the course of the opera. The introduction of L’incontro improvviso is quite similar. Here we catch these men, these so-called holy mendicants, at their metaphorical makeup table.

While it is likely that they are wearing funny costumes, it is possible that the costumes have been obscured by the table at which they are seated. It is almost as though the audience has sneaked in behind the scenes, catching these men unaware. In Apollonia’s case, she never explicitly mentions who she is or why she needs the makeup. The audience is left to put together all of the facts based on her appearance, voice, and the

31 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 81. It is true that the opening scene of these men mirrors the idea of the medieval drunken monks. If the opera were not set in Egypt and the Calender did not eventually perform a song taken from the Koran (supposedly), the character could very well be a monk.

100

subject matter of her number. In the case of the dervishes, they openly describe their lives of spiritual deceit, one by one, throughout the course of the number.32 If their entire existence as members of a spiritual community is nothing but a scam, why would we expect them to sound even remotely exotic? That is a guise that they need only assume when in the public eye. No, this number is all exposition, but unique in that we have caught the men drunk on arrogance (and wine) before heading out to beg for the alms that keep their warehouse stocked. As we soon shall see, Haydn actually allows us to watch both the masking and eventual unmasking of the Calender.

“Che bevanda, che liquore” concludes with the Calender sending out his fellow dervishes to work their charms in the streets. In fact, he feels compelled to send them out of the warehouse before they get too drunk to do their jobs, “You would drink until you lost your minds and your reason. Go about your business, do you hear me? Go.”33 After the warehouse scene concludes and the dervishes are dispersed, the Calender speaks directly to the audience in recitative telling us that what we are about to see is only pleasure and only skill (not quite literally). We are forced to wait, however, as the scene changes and we now meet Osmin outside the seraglio in the heart of Cairo. As he sings about how he plans to remain impervious to Cupid’s arrows, the typical inflated notion of self-worth often seen in comic servants, we also see him through the Calender’s eyes.

Here is an unsuspecting fool to be taken advantage of. Who, but a foolish servant would

32 The first subordinate to the Calender (“subalterno”) sings, “We feign poverty to arouse the kindness and pity of the people.” (Noi fingiamo povertade per destare l’amistade de’ viventi e la pietà.) (mm. 70-80). The second continues, “And meanwhile this warehouse is filled with bread and wine and our purses with money.” (E frattanto il magazzino adempiam col pane e vino e la borsa con denar.) (mm. 81-90). And finally, the third fills in the rest of the blanks, “My comrade speaks well, we know how to find a way of swindling and cheating.” (Dice bene il camerada, noi sappiam trovar la strada di truffar e d’ingannar.” (mm. 90-98) 33 “Voi bereste infino a perdere l’anima e l’intelletto. Andate a fare I fatti vostri, m’udiste? Andate.”

101

have the audacity to proclaim that they will forever be insusceptible to love? The

Calender’s brief “monologue” in the second scene sets up a frame around Osmin’s number. We know that something is going to happen, that we are going to get to see the dervish in action. We do not know exactly what that something will be. Not only have we already seen the private lives of the dervishes of Cairo, but now we are also watching

Osmin’s canzonetta through the Calender’s eyes.

Like Volpino’s Turkish number in Lo speziale, the Calender’s performance of his alms begging song, “Castagno, castagna,” receives much of the scholarly attention paid to L’incontro improvviso.34 In her brief discussion of the opera in her chapter in The

Cambridge Companion to Haydn, Clark writes that

Haydn has ample opportunity to depict the exotic East using so-called Turkish flavored music, i.e., leaping melodies, reiterated thirds, chromatic inflections, and percussion effects, as in the idiotic alms begging song sung by the dishonest dervish, “Castagno, castagno”.35

Despite his excitement over the Turkish overture, Landon only mentions this number in passing as another number in the opera that features “Turkish” elements.36 Interestingly enough, he refers to the number as a “‘complex’ begging song” in his synopsis of the plot.37 In his paper about wit and humor in Haydn’s operas, Steven E. Paul calls Haydn’s writing for the Calender one of the composer’s wittiest achievements while noting the

“pounding rhythms, bare octaves, and exotic tonal elements.”38 Aside from Hunter and

Head’s interpretation of the Calender’s song, little attention is paid to the context or

34 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 77-92. 35 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 184. 36 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 263. Landon writes, “The Turkish elements also appear in other numbers of the work, notably in Calandro’s first Aria (‘Castagno, castagna’) and the Duetto on the same theme (No. 8), as well as the Marcia in the third Act.” 37 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 262. 38 Steven E. Paul, “Wit and Humour in the Operas of Haydn,” in Internationaler Joseph Haydn Kongress, Wien 1982, ed. Eva Badura-Skoda (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986), 397-398.

102

meaning of the song. Generally, the Turkish elements of the song are noted in passing, as an exciting feature of the music in this opera. In fact, only Head notes the fact that the

Calender’s song is an example of meta-music, or as he calls it, a “stage song”.39 This is not just an aria for which we must suspend our disbelief, assuming that a character is conveying his reaction to the plot of the opera. In this case, the Calender is explicitly performing a song for Osmin, and presumably all the other potential victims he sees in the streets of Cairo, and states as much. Like the case of Don Pelagio’s performance in

La canterina, the dervish has two audiences listening to his meta-song – the audience members in the opera house and the character(s) present on the stage. Granted, unlike the case of Don Pelagio’s aria and accompanied recitative, the text of the dervish’s song is not actually derived from a real preexisting one. Instead, the text follows a long tradition of using gibberish, in this case nonsensical Italian, to convey a foreign language. In this case, the language being mocked is unclear. It might be Turkish or Arabic. When queried by a curious Osmin, the dervish describes “Castagno, castagna” as an old obscure song by Mohammed taken from the Koran.40 Head notes that the audience is not invited to take this claim seriously.41 The Calender also purports to not understand the lyrics of the song that he is singing.42 The opening number of the opera has already conditioned

39 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 82. 40 Act I, sc. iv (no. 7), mm. 8-16. “It is an old obscure song by Mohammed, from the Koran. We sing it in the street when we are begging for charity.” (“È una vecchia canzone oscura di Maometto, tratta d’Alcorano. Noi la cantiamo per le strade cercando la carità.”) 41 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 82. 42 See Act I, sc. iv (no. 7). Osmin: What in the devil do you mean with your leri, lari, lire, lire lu lu lu lu lu, I do not understand a word. Calender: What? What did you say? You do not understand me? Osmin: No, by Diana! No. Calender: Neither do I.” (Osmin: “Che il diavolo vi porti con il vostro leri, lari, lire, lire lu lu lu lu lu, io non intendo una parola.” Calandro: “Come? Che dite? Voi non m’intendete?” Osmin: “No: per Dianna! No.” Calandro: “Nemmen io.” (mm. 1-8))

103

us to see the Calender as a comic villain. Any audience member with a libretto in hand would know that the Calender said absolutely nothing throughout his song.43

Like the performance arias that I have already examined, there are many layers of meaning to “Castagno, castagna”. The first layer is that of the actor portraying a character for the performance of an opera – to which must be added the fact that a

European actor is portraying a distinctly non-European character. And, in the case of this particular non-European character in a cast of non-European characters, this distinction matters. The second is that of the character of the Calender who publicly assumes the air of the pious dervish, but privately uses the alms he gains to lead a distinctively lavish lifestyle.44 Thus far, we have an actor portraying an actor (although in this case, the

Calender is not a theatrical actor) – something we are already familiar with after La canterina. The third layer is this character’s performance of his alms-begging song.

Then the additional “real life” layer must be factored in (along the same lines as the actor who literally plays the part for the performance of an opera), that of Haydn the European composer’s composition of this number. And, in this case, this number is a European composer’s imagining of a non-European character’s imagining based on whatever firsthand knowledge the Calender does have regarding the Muslim mystical sect to which he is pretending to belong.

Why does Haydn choose to make this number – and its later iteration as a duet between the Calender and Osmin – the only “Turkish” number in the opera? He could have very well sprinkled Turkish tropes into each of the characters’ arias throughout the

43 I translated the first two words as “Chestnut tree, chestnut,” and the nonsense continues throughout. 44 Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 48. “If the alla turca topos is considered as a translation of Turkish music, however, then the primary question for the scholar becomes not the particularities of individual figures/devices, but the underlying principles of translation and the nature of perceptions on which the translation is based.”

104

opera. Yet, as I have already mentioned, despite the fact that every single character in the cast is a non-European, they are not given anything remotely exotic to sing. The Calender only sings such music when he is performing in public. The fake aria, “Castagno, castagna,” makes the point that the Calender is an imposter. The conventional opening that we see and hear in “Che bevanda” sets us up for this recognition, as he is initially presented as being musically like us. Later, we are invited to see through his disguise, and this transparency makes him even more recognizable to us as a type. The Calender alone remains the “Other” in this cast of characters, and it is of no little significance that he is the only character who does not enjoy a happy ending even though he is the recipient of the Sultan’s clemency (his sentence at the opera’s conclusion is quickly changed from death to permanent exile).

In some respects, the Calender’s performance recalls Volpino’s performance in

Lo speziale. Except in this case, it is likely that the dervish has actually encountered music like this before. Unlike Volpino, the Calender is not approximating what he thinks a Turk (an Other) would sound like, instead he is appropriating an overheard music for his own gains with little to no understanding of what the song’s real meaning is (as I have already indicated, the song is about nothing). While the nonsense aspect of the lyrics is obviously meant to be humorous, it is hard to classify the Calender as a comic character.

We are not meant to sympathize with him – he is a character with only his own best interests at heart, trying to sell the friendships that he has gained back to the Sultan. It is easy to argue the same thing about Osmin since he tries to take advantage of his master during his first attempt at performing the alms-begging song with the Calender later in the first act. Yet, the greedily hungry servant was obviously a stock character in comic

105

opera at the time. Since the Calender is the villain in this cast of characters, it is hard to say whether or not his number is supposed to be comic in any way – especially when it is compared with Osmin’s efforts to sing the same number later in the act (to be discussed below).

After Osmin concludes his pitiful recitative (about his lack of food any money), the Calender approaches shouting, “Illah, Illah ha!” (mm. 10-12, on the same E that he will begin his aria). Osmin, like the audience, is intrigued and wonders aloud as to this strange man’s identity and the Calender, knowing a potential victim when he sees one, launches into his seductive performance. The audience has not yet heard the dervish in his full performance mode and they are certainly not disappointed.

As a result of his awareness of the multiple layers of performance at play in the number, Haydn takes few musical risks in “Castagno, castagna”. It sounds exactly like what it is supposed to be – a Turkish-by-way-of-Europe aria – yet it has several levels of removal from the real thing. “Castagno, castagna” is a duple-meter Allegretto in e-minor.

It is scored for a rather small ensemble – strings, 2 horns, and 2 oboes. There is no explicit mention of percussion in the score, the so-called batterie turque. Despite the

Calender’s initial chanting, the number begins with a twelve-measure recitative that introduces one of the themes that Haydn will use for the rest of the aria. The number itself consists of three thematic/motivic areas that each recur twice throughout the entire song. Haydn does nothing to manipulate these thematic areas other than changing the key areas in which they occur. This simple formal structure is in keeping with Locke’s list of seventeen basic characteristics of eighteenth-century alla turca style. Locke notes that many of these pieces are “constructed of short, independent statements using regular

106

balanced phrases…and build larger sections by use of simple additive forms such as

ABA and rondo (ABACABA).”45 There are no transitional modulations in “Castagno, castagna,” the motivic areas and key changes occur one after the other46. The lack of modulations serves as one technique that Haydn uses to make this music sound somehow different. He also reduces the texture of the ensemble at many points in the number, so that the remaining instruments accompanying the Calender are playing in unison or octaves. This reduction of texture mimics the monophonic texture of religious chanting.

Haydn does not use strange rhythms or syncopations, nor does he utilize odd-numbered phrases. It is simply this weird lack of transitional modulations and often monophonic texture that make the song sound inherently different. While the opera does indeed begin with a Turkish style overture and also features a Turkish style “intermezzo” between scenes 6 and 7 in the third act, “Castagno, castagna” (in both its solo and duet iterations) serves as the only vocally performed Turkish style music in the entire opera. Again, only the Calender and Osmin attempt to perform this style of music. Even the Sultan sounds

European.47

The first thematic area is a nearly exact repetition of the 12-measure ritornello

(mm. 12-28). Head reads too much into this ritornello, noting a “sinister rather than appropriately spiritual or pious chromatic turn around the dominant pitch” in measures 3

45 Locke, Musical Exoticism, 121. 46 Locke, Musical Exoticism, 118. See number 3 on Locke’s list, sudden shifting from one tonal area to another. “This is particularly striking when the keys are distant from each other, such as modulations by a third, or differ in mode (or both).” 47 Gluck’s version of “Castagno, castagna” is even more monophonic. With few exceptions, the strings and bassoon (the entire ensemble) play unisons and octaves. Interestingly enough, it relies on the same rhythmic motive for the first theme (long, short short long). Also worth pointing out is that the lyrics are exactly the same with the exception of spelling differences for pronunciation. I disagree with Heartz’s classification of “Il Profetta Maometto” as another Turkish aria. Heartz does not even mention “Castagno, castagna”. See Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 382.

107

through 6.48 While each instrument in the ensemble plays the ritornello, all but the viola drop out when the Calender enters. The viola doubles the Calender’s “melody” whenever he sings in this section. In his discussion of the second thematic area of this song, Head refers to the texture as “quasi-monophonic”, stating that it signals primitivism.49 Yet, if this song is really supposed to mimic an actual religious chant, or at least quasi-religious chant, the texture makes sense. The rest of the orchestra remains silent while the

Calender sings, interjecting two-bar consequents to his vocal antecedent phrases. The measures alternate between the tonic and dominant with the exception of the Calender’s leap to scale degree 4 in measures 17 and 18. There is no real “melody” in this section.

Each two-measure vocal phrase consists of one note, as though the dervish is intoning.

The rhythm is march-like with a long-short-short-long pattern (quarter note, two eighth notes, quarter note. Out of the three two-measure vocal phrases, two begin with an eighth note pick-up). The thematic area ends with a four-measure tag (mm. 25-28) in which the

Calender lingers on a sustained B (scale degree 5). This tag is significant in that it is the first time he is accompanied by the rest of the strings although they are essentially all in unison (see example 3.1, mm. 12-28).

48 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 82. 49 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 82.

108

Example 3.1 “Castagno, castagna” (mm. 12-28), first thematic area

109

The second thematic area begins in measure 29. Now the Calender is accompanied by all of the strings in unisons and thirds. The rhythmic pattern has also changed to four pattering eighth notes followed by quarter notes, but the phrases are still two-measures long. This shift from longer to shorter notes gives the impression that the number is increasing in intensity. The Calender repeats the same nonsensical four bars of text twice without orchestral interjection as he gains momentum (see example 3.2, mm.

29-36, the same exact musical material is repeated twice).50 This momentum and intensity mimic a dervish nearing an ecstatic spiritual state. Head sees this new thematic area in the relative major (G), but Haydn gives us no indication as such. Yes, the

Calender seems “stuck” on G and A, which Head refers to as scale degrees 1 and 2, but the strings are moving in unisons and thirds with the vocal line. There are no chromatic indications or accidentals that would confirm a true modulation to the relative major.

This section might be in G-major or it might just be stuck on III. The nebulous quality of the key area is part of what makes this song sound almost chant-like and distinctly different. The section ends with a tag that mimics the motive that we have just heard, but which seems to be stuck on B (we still seem to be in a III/G-major area). The Calender then ends the section on a sustained A, accompanied only by the first violins.

50 “Chich, blich, lulugagne, mecsachesa tonfilù”

110

Example 3.2 “Castagno, castagna” (mm. 29-36), second thematic area

The third thematic area begins in measure 41 as the Calender begins whirling

(spinning, gira) and singing, “Leri, lari, lire lu” over and over and over again. The key area is still ambiguous as the strings are still doubling the dervish in unisons and thirds, now moving in mostly eighth and sixteenth notes. Again, the Calender is increasing the spiritual intensity of his song as he whirls singing his alliterative text before finally ending on a unison G in measure 57. The addition of the whirling motive again

111

illustrates the hodge-podge aspect of the number, while, at the same time, signaling the

Calender’s fraudulent ways. Yes, dervishes use music and whirling to bring them closer to a spiritual state of enlightenment (almost like self-hypnosis) and yes, they choose to live a mendicant lifestyle reliant on the charity of the secular world, but I doubt that they would combine such an intimate – and integral part – of their spiritual faith with their very public alms-begging.

After the Calender concludes in measure 57, the orchestra begins a modified, brief repeat of the opening ritornello now reduced to about six measures. The musical material/motives are essentially the same, but Haydn reverses the chord progression from i-V to V-i. The Calender enters in measure 63 on scale degree 5. The structure of this repeat of the first theme is the same, but as I have already stated this section is much more chromatic. It moves from E-major (mm. 66-67) to V/V (F-sharp) before finally settling on the dominant (in first inversion) in measure 74. The Calender continues through the next two thematic sections with slight harmonic modifications (this time the second theme is clearly in the tonic) before concluding the number whirling along with the orchestra’s closing ritornello. At this point Osmin joins in on the whirling, so mesmerized is he by the Calender’s performance, but he cannot remain upright and falls over.

Head sees the Calender as a grotesque character and interprets this number accordingly, writing that, “Haydn’s music, possibly inspired by Gluck’s earlier setting, is designed to make the Calender’s false piety sound grotesque and primitive.”51 Head’s reading is certainly valid. After all, the Calender is trying to pass off this song as an old

51 Head, “Haydn’s exoticisms,” 82.

112

and obscure number taken directly from the Koran. Yet, there is more to this piece than

Haydn attempting to make the dervish sound grotesque and primitive. Rather, in keeping with the argument that the Calender is both appropriating and approximating “Turkish” motifs in the construction of his song, “Castagno, castagna” becomes an amalgamation, a

“hodge podge”, of Turkish and exotic characteristics. Part of the uniqueness of the aria is that it must sound non-European. Just as I argue in my analysis of Don Pelagio’s aria and recitative in La canterina, Hunter believes that the compositional deficiencies in the

Calender’s song “undermine any putative authority conferred by his religious calling and reinforce his status as a figure to be ridiculed.”52 But the musical flaws in “Castagno, castagno” do more than just remind the audience that this character must not be taken seriously, they also remind the audience that they have caught a character in the middle of a performance.

I doubt anyone in the audience assumed that the Calender’s performance was actually an authentic song from the Koran, but like his foolish counterpart in Lo speziale who is completely fooled by the fake Turk Volpino’s performance, Osmin too is fooled by this charade.53 After failing to remain upright while whirling, the servant immediately wants to know more. Even though I have argued that Haydn often gives us musical clues that allow us to see through the façade of a character’s performance, that is not actually the case in this particular number. Rather, it is the contrast between “Che bevanda” and

“Castagno, castagna” that forms the “chink” in the façade of the Calender’s performance.

52 Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 61. 53 Matthew Head, Orientalism, Masquerade and Mozart’s Turkish Music, (London: Royal Musical Association, 2000), 20. “Indeed for some members of a late eighteenth-century Viennese audience, the alla turca style of Gluck, Haydn, and Mozart was the only source of knowledge about Turkish music. Thus despite its often comic character it possessed a subliminal authority and persuasive power as a representation.”

113

The number itself does not deviate from the European expectations of a Turkish style aria. Simply knowing what we already know about the dervish and then witnessing his interactions with Osmin serve as our clues in this example. However, Osmin’s attempts at performing this number are full of flaws.

As I have mentioned, Osmin is completely seduced by the Calender’s nonsense song and wants to know more. After the Calender describes the origins of “Castagno, castagna,” he begins to query Osmin. This line of questioning almost functions as an initiation for Osmin. As Osmin continues to give, in the Calender’s opinion, the appropriate answers to his line of questions, the Calender realizes that this fool will make a great addition to his team. He thinks aloud, summarizing the servant’s better qualities for the audiences’ benefit:

Belle qualità: gran mangiatore, e niente amante; molto poltrone, ed ignorante; povere in denari, ma sempre allegro. Amico! Fatevi Calandro.

Excellent qualities: a great eater, and not a lover; a great loafer, and ignorant; no money, but always happy. Friend! Become a dervish.54

When Osmin expresses skepticism, stating that the Calender’s lack of fat does not bode well for a happy lifestyle, the dervish launches into the next attempt at seduction, “Noi pariamo Santarelli”. Like “Che bevanda”, this is a conventional opera buffa number, but there is something not quite right about it. As Hunter points out, there is a certain incoherence to it that again reminds us that this is not a character to be trusted. At first glance, it seems like a standard comic aria full of the usual patter as the Calender sings about food, drink, and more food. While the dervish does not stray far from the standard alla turca topos in his alms-begging song, his attempt to speak Osmin’s musical language

54 Act I, sc iv, (no. 7) mm. 38-42.

114

becomes a chance for us to see his flaws. He is a foreigner trying to speak another’s language and here we watch him fail. While Hunter sees incoherence and deficiencies in

“Noi pariamo” that, in her opinion, function as compositional strategies used to characterize the specific nature of the low-Turk, I think that there is more going on here than meets the eye.55

This is the first time we have witnessed a character unmasking himself, openly and without any concern. Unlike the first scene of the opera, where we have caught the dervishes “behind-the-scenes,” we now see the Calender removing his stage make-up and costume for the benefit of both the audience and Osmin. The Calender feels no qualms about revealing the secrets of his fraudulent identity. Yet, while he tries to maintain some kind of lofty composure as though his “calling” still demands reverence and admiration (surely, he is admired by Osmin – he has as much food and drink as he wants and all the time), his music undermines his grandiose self-importance.

While the generic conventions of opera would have made it clear that the dervish would never be the hero, Haydn’s compositional techniques ensure that we know that this man is a comic dervish. Although the audience surely would have known not to trust this man, his occasional employment of “comic servant-speak” and emphasis on food still manages to seduce Osmin.

“Noi pariamo Santarelli” begins with a seven-measure ritornello that introduces the Calender’s first theme. Haydn gives us a clue in the third measure of the ritornello with an orchestral interjection that forms both the consequent phrase to the first two measures and yet, at the same time, gives the appearance of the orchestra laughing (see

55 Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 59.

115

example 3.3, mm. 1-7). Hunter makes a point of noting the strangeness of the ritornello, with particular emphasis on the first beat of measure 4 (the conclusion of the orchestral laughter), which she describes as a grotesque gesture.56 My own musical/formal analysis does not really differ from Hunter’s, but our interpretations of what the music signifies do differ. Hunter believes that the dervish’s musical incoherence and confusion can be associated with his Turkishness, arguing that this number confirms that “this character has no sense of proportion and no instinct for formal ‘propriety’.”57

Example 3.3 “Noi pariamo Santarelli” (mm. 1-7), opening ritornello

56 Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 59. Hunter writes, “The sudden and phraseologically odd changes in dynamics and orchestration in the ritornello suggests jerky, even grotesque, gestures (especially the one- beat forte in m.4) and set up the expectation of peculiarity.” 57 Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 60.

116

Example 3.3 continued

117

While I certainly agree with Hunter’s assessment of the Calender’s character, I do not think that this must be equated somehow with his Turkishness. Instead, it again indicates that performers of any sort are not to be trusted. Haydn never fails to use some kind of compositional signifier to denote a character being caught in the act of performing – be it an exaggeration of motives, an incoherence of form, or a lack of deviation from operatic conventions. These characters are like compulsive liars who pile one lie on top of another until they tell one lie too many. Returning to Hunter’s one-beat forte in measure 4, I do not find this gesture to be “grotesque”. Instead, it serves as a first clue (and very early into the number) that all will not be as it seems, that the music will continue to undermine the dervish’s words. Formally, the aria is a mixture of sonata, rondo, and strophic characteristics.58 The opening of the number (mm. 8-35) mimics the exposition of sonata form, but without any real modulation from tonic to dominant; instead, it is really a series of motivic areas, each accompanying a new line of text. There is no connective musical tissue (so to speak) between motives, no transitional modulations.59 The exposition-like first section simply moves from tonic to dominant without any particular harmonic abnormalities or signifiers that something is wrong.

The text of the aria remains the same throughout the aria, without any modifications or additions. The dervish sings:

Noi pariamo Santarelli, e truffiamo quest’ e quelli, dimostrando povertà.

58 Hunter notes that this mixture of formal types is common for Haydn’s buffa arias. See Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 60. 59 Hunter points out that three different motives make up the movement to the dominant in measures 18 through 24. She writes that this string of motives gives the impression of “improvisatory list-making with only the thinnest of rhetorical threads.” See Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 59.

118

Ma la borsa intanto avanza, e mangiamo in abbodanza, e beviamo, come va.

Ben fornita è la cucina, ben empita la cantina, tanto basta in verità.

We seem like holy men, And we swindle these and those, Feigning poverty.

But our purses swell, And we eat in abundance, And drink just as much.

The kitchen is well-stocked, The cellar is well-filled, In truth there is always enough.

Each stanza of text corresponds with the same musical motive throughout the entire aria.

While this in itself is not necessarily unusual, Haydn does not reserve particular stanzas for contrasting sections. This in turn is what gives the aria a strophic feel – the text in its entirety is repeated straight through four times without any modifications. With each repeat, Haydn slightly varies the melodic motive setting the unchanged text. While I do not believe that the dervish really cares about giving any kind of air of coherence – he does not really care what anyone thinks---this motivic clinging and unwillingness to stray very far from his established motives indicates that this is some kind of crutch, a way for him to maintain some kind of control over the music. In this way, his performance of

“Noi pariamo Santarelli” is like his performance of “Castagno, castagna”. There is something strange about it, something not quite right. Haydn uses this technique---this creation of musical unease---to draw attention to the fact that we are witnessing a character unmask himself through a self-conscious performance.

119

While the aria opens with an exposition-like section, it does not have a true development section (we expect to see this in mm. 35-57). Although the aria lacks the motivic exploration that would be expected of a development section, Haydn allows the dervish to stray harmonically in measure 40, and to continue to do so through the end of this section in measure 57. The harmonic content of this section does deviate from the tonic and dominant, but neither the motives nor the text change.

While the form of “Noi pariamo” seems designed to reflect the dervish’s effort to maintain control, we see his self-possession lapse when he sings about food and money.

Again, he regains his composure in measure 14 for the final phrase of this stanza. So, for the most part, he is in control when he sings the first three lines of text. But he launches into buffa-like patter for the next section (beginning in m. 19) when he begins to sing about the amount of money the dervishes have in their purses, and the amount of eating and drinking they enjoy. In fact, he gets so excited about the quantity of food that they eat that he must repeat “abbondanza” multiple times (mm. 20-21). He regains some semblance of composure, slowing down his buffa patter and sticking to simple eighth- note patter when he returns to singing about how well-stocked his cellar and kitchen are

(see example 3.4, mm. 19-27). It is as though he has caught himself getting too excited about eating and drinking, therefore reverting to the simplest of musical motives to try to regain some self-control. This pattern continues throughout the aria, with the dervish losing control each time he sings about his money, his food, and his wine.

120

Example 3.4 “Noi pariamo Santarelli” (mm. 19-27), the Calender's loss and regaining of composure

121

Example 3.4 continued

122

As I have emphasized, Haydn does not really vary each iteration of the text, thus giving it a pseudo-strophic feel, but the Calender’s fourth – and final – statement of the text is more varied than the rest. While Haydn allows the dervish to stray harmonically in the mock developmental second repeat of the text, he does not make any use of minor, nor does he really alter the rhythm of the motive until measure 87. Now the Calender begins on the last beat of the measure, in f-minor, with a dotted rhythm that seems to come straight out of a seria aria (or French overture). Hunter, too, makes note of this restatement of the text, pointing out that Haydn has not once used the tonic minor or flat mediant in this aria. It is a jarring and sudden change.60 It is as though singing of appearing saintly merits a more somber tone. This reiteration of the text is also dramatically effective in that Haydn cuts the Calender short, and the dervish does not sing of his well-stocked pantry and cellar again. In this way, Haydn musically marks a change in the Calender’s thinking. Osmin needs no further convincing about the benefits of the dervish way of life and the audience surely has gotten the point of the joke by now, so Haydn simply concludes the aria with a two measure tag of “in verità” (mm. 96-98) followed by a two-measure concluding ritornello.

Now the Calender shifts from playing the role of spiritual dervish to that of gifted salesman. After Osmin expresses his interest in joining the Calender, he is dressed on stage. All that remains is to don a tunic, belt, and turban in order to become a dervish:

Gettatevi questa tonaca, legatevi colla cintola, passisto cappucio il turbante, ed eccovi un Calandro mendicante.

60 Hunter writes, “This character shows himself to be more than merely garrulous at the end, however, with the final repetition of the opening text to a considerably varied version of the opening theme---in the minor…Haydn uses neither the tonic minor nor the flat median earlier in the aria to anticipate this sudden turn; it cannot be justified on ‘purely musical’ grounds.” See Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style,” 60.

123

Throw on this tunic, bind it with this belt, let this cowl be your turban, and there you are – a mendicant dervish.61

The two men exit, ostensibly to visit Vertigo the mad French painter, whose actual relevance to the plot is null.

After a two-scene interlude in which we finally meet the lovers who are supposed to be the focus of the opera, the dervish and his disciple return to the stage in Act I, sc. vii. The Calender, deeming Osmin to have passed whatever test the meeting with the

French painter posed, hands Osmin their song “in writing”.62 The Calender then shows

Osmin how to accompany himself shouting, “Illah, ha! Illah, ha!” Apparently, that is all that is required to be a dervish – the appropriate costume and the obscure, nonsensical lyrics to an alms-begging song. Osmin, proving himself the ultimate fool, sees Ali approach and decides that his (former) master will be a perfect test candidate for his trial run at being a dervish and, with the Calender’s assistance, launches into an attempt at performing “Castagno, castagna”. This performance is comparable to both the

Calender’s prior performance of the alms-begging song as well as his performance of

“Noi pariamo Santarelli”. In this case, we learn that it is not that easy for Osmin, and therefore European characters, to play the role of dervish. Is it because Osmin must fail in order for the plot to function dramatically? Or is his failure part of a larger criticism of the European appropriation of the alla turca style? Or, taking things one step further, does Osmin fail because he has somehow overstepped his bounds in trying to break free from the bonds of slavery while at the same time trying to take advantage of his

61 Act I, sc. iv, number 9. 62 Act I, sc. vii, number 15, mm. 9-15. Osmin: “Now show me the secrets of the confraternity and of being dervishes.” Calender: “Very well. Here is our song in writing.” (Osmin: “Per ora insegnatemi il secreto della contraternita e del dovere de’ Calandri.” Calandro: “Benissimo. Eccovi in iscritto la canzonetta.”)

124

(hopefully) former master? His failure seems to mock the notion of the European alla turca style.

At first glance, Osmin’s duet with the Calender does not seem all that different from the Calender’s prior performance of “Castagno, castagna”. Yet, despite, or perhaps because of, the nonsensical words, Osmin just cannot get the text right; the Calender must prompt him throughout the song. Here we have a character who does not speak the other’s language, but who is trying desperately hard to get it right. It is also distinctly possible that Osmin, as a slave, is also illiterate. It is likely that he cannot read the text or, as a musical joke of sorts, maybe he is incapable of sight-reading music.63

The ritornello is shorter than the original, now reduced to eight measures and the number consists of the Calender singing the original text with Osmin mimicking him, as though he is being prompted, but getting the text wrong every time. He finally gets one word correct, “ronzitu”, in measures 47 and 48. He echoes the Calender one octave above, never deviating otherwise from the notes or the rhythm. The Calender is forced to repeat sections that were not repeated in his original, as if hoping that a second repeat will encourage Osmin to get it right. In measure 16, he begins the opening text again, but now in a dominant area. In the previous version, the music was roughly the same, but he sang different words.

Osmin is far less successful than his new teacher. He does not even get to finish his performance before his master has recognized him. The number pauses in measure

63 Calender: Castagno, castagna. Osmin: Stagragno, stafragna. Calender: Pista fanache. Osmin: Lista finestra. Calender: Castagno, castagna…(text repeated). Calender: Mecsachesa tonfilù. Osmin: Fezza questa tonfalù. (repeat). Calender: Firli, mirli magne. Osmin: Parli, pirli, braghe. Calender: Selimanca ronzitu. Osmin: Tulipanca ronzitu.

125

26 and Ali announces, in recitative, “That is Osmin, my slave.”64 Osmin seems to know that he has been caught, shouting to the Calender that they need to keep singing. The two men finally reach the whirling section in measure 54 and finally Osmin has caught on.

He can get the words right and, although there are no stage directions in this version, he most likely gets the whirling right as well. (“Leri, lari, lire, lu”). The servant probably believes that he has achieved success, but Haydn gives us one final clue to indicate that

Osmin will ultimately fail, one final clue just in case Ali had second thoughts. Although

Osmin has been doubling the Calender at the octave, upon reaching the whirling motive, he slips and misses his pitch in measures 66 and 67. Here he sings a C-sharp against the

Calender’s B-natural. The effect is jarring but brief and he is saved by the fact that the

Calender moves to C-sharp on the second beat of measure 67 (see example 3.5, mm. 66-

67). The number concludes with a six-measure ritornello consisting of the whirling motive.

64 “Quest’è Osmin, lo schiavo mio.”

126

Example 3.5 “Castagno, castagna” (duet, mm. 66-67), Osmin’s mistake

Whatever success or pride Osmin might be feeling, he is not allowed to bask in it for long. The next recitative begins and Ali immediately informs him that he has been recognized. (“Osmin! I know you.” “Osmin! Io ti conosco.”) Knowing that he cannot feign a new identity, Osmin immediately owns up to his disguise and then tries to convert his master. His master, who has a superior moral character and a greater sense of purpose, does not succumb to Osmin’s attempts. This scene complex forms a complete parallel with that of Osmin’s initial interactions with the dervish in that the slave, despite failing to successfully perform the alms-begging song, immediately launches into a number that is comparable to the Calender’s “Noi pariamo Santarelli”. Still desperate to

127

lead a life filled with food and drink, Osmin’s next number, “Che siano i Calandri filosofo pazzi,” is mostly about the earthly pleasures that these men get to enjoy. The number is a listmaking summary of the benefits that these supposedly crazy men enjoy.

Yet, Osmin is destined to fail. He cannot convince his master to diverge from his single- minded quest for his beloved princess. The promise of unlimited food is meaningless to him. And well he should wait, for Rezia’s first test appears just after this number, finally bringing about the heart of the plot.

While Osmin’s attempts to escape from his master and join the Calender are put to an end once he is discovered by Ali, the dervish still remains a central figure in the plot. In fact, he promises to help Ali, Rezia, and their assorted slaves in their escape from the Sultan and is ultimately the reason that Ali is forced to engage in his own doomed performance of a false identity. Although L’incontro improvviso is not the first dramma giocoso to be examined in this dissertation, it is the first one in which any of the seria characters survived Haydn and Friberth’s revisions. That being said, this is the first time

Haydn allows a seria character to attempt to change his fate through performance.

And, it is the devious dervish who forces Ali to attempt this transformation.

The Calender has lured Ali and friends back to his warehouse in order to give them time – and the space – to plot their escape from the Sultan. Meanwhile, the Sultan has returned early from his hunting trip and is now openly searching for Rezia and her ladies, offering a hefty reward for their capture. The dervish attempts to turn them in to the Sultan in order to get the money being offered while pretending to help the runaways.

Surrounded by the Sultan’s forces, they are forced to quickly come up with a plan. The women disguise themselves as dervishes, while Ali dresses up as a French painter. For

128

whatever reason, this costume is readily available in the warehouse in which they are hiding.65

While it can be argued that the Calender’s behavior has forced the runaways into this trap, it is Osmin who comes up with their plan of escape. Just as everyone has given up hope, he hatches his plan:

Quest’ è l’abito del pittor francese; vestitevi con esso, prendete questo quadro, imitate le sue stramberie; io vi prometto, che ce la scamperemo bene. Voi donne, mettetevi gli abiti de’ Calandri; più che il cappucio abbasserete, meno conosciute sarete. Per me? Uom di carovana mi fingerò, e così di tutto, che accade, uno spettator sarò.

These are the clothes of a French painter; put them on, hold this picture, imitate his eccentricities; I promise you, that we will escape easily. You women, put on these dervish garments; the further down you pull the hood, the less recognizable you will be. As for me? I will pretend to be a camel driver, a spectator of all that happens.66

Armed with instructions from his servant, Ali launches into a bizarre aria in which he imitates the eccentricities of the French painter. Thus far into the opera, we have viewed

Ali as a European stand-in despite the fact that he, like all of the other characters, is from the East. The number is strange and, for whatever reason, makes no mention of France.

All of the locations described in the aria are in Italy.

As the Sultan’s guards approach, the Calender tells one of Rezia’s women to have no fear and then turns to Ali, commanding him to put on a show. This number is all that remains of Gluck’s mad French painter, Vertigo, aside from the fleeting first act reference when the Calender and Osmin go to visit him. Friberth may have left the number in so that he would have a chance to flex his own comic muscles (Friberth played

Ali). The number itself does not make much sense dramatically, but then again, lesser

65 Act III, sc. v. This appears to be Haydn’s fleeting reference to the mad French painter Vertigo from Gluck’s version. Ali’s number is a combination of a complex of songs all performed by the painter. 66 See mm. 31-47 of recitative [42]. Act III, sc. iv.

129

characters have been fooled by stranger disguises in other operas (Sempronio and his

Turks in Lo speziale). Although Ali does not sing in broken French or the bad Italian generally associated with foreigners, (suspension of disbelief aside, one wonders just what language the character is singing in) his overexcited sound effects undoubtedly give him away – perhaps eccentric French painters do not always imitate the sound of bombs and muskets with so much enthusiasm.

The number is seemingly formless as we watch (and squirm) as Ali improvises.

Just how long can he stall and sing about the mysterious painting in his hand? (I say mysterious because there is just no way everything he describes in the aria could possibly fit into the painting in his hand unless it is a gigantic painting!). The song text describes a splendid banquet, wine from Tripoli, thirty drunken fiddlers playing Neapolitan music, a meandering stream, and finally a battle replete with exploding bombs. This is a performance like nothing else we have witnessed thus far. While Mengone and Volpino were required to improvise when they posed as notaries, they were at least supposed to be taking a dictation. In the same way, Osmin was prompted by the Calender when he attempted to beg alms from his master. In this case, Ali, the opera’s hero, is forced to work under extreme pressure and we can hear him working out his performance on the spot – from his bumbling beginnings to his overly confident exploding bombs.

Unfortunately for the prince, his fantastic performance as a French eccentric, while entertaining, proves unsuccessful. “Ecco un splendido banchetto” has less to do with the criticism of performance than it is an examination of an actor’s art.

Ali has no time to waste and the number begins after a fanfare-esque two-measure introduction that barely even qualifies as a ritornello (the number is a vivace in G-major).

130

Ali enters in measure 3 and we can hear him thinking when the orchestra interjects with its two-beat forte in measure 4. Still stalling, he echoes his last words (“un splendido banchetto”) while his note values decrease. The prince comes very close to falling into buffa patter as he thinks about what to sing next. He is still struggling in measure 6 and finally manages an “ecco” on the last beat before allowing the orchestra to fill the next two beats.

Finally fixing on something to mention about the splendid banquet and, having fully succumbed to buffa-esque patter (fitting because he is about to sing about food – a buffa character’s favorite subject), he mentions the quantity of food and drink at the table

(“che gran bere, che mangiare!”). Thankfully, he allows himself another pause as the orchestra interjects for another two measures (see example 3.6, mm. 6-12). The aria continues in this fashion as Ali comes up with an idea, sings about it multiple times, often echoing the ends of phrases with the orchestra coming in and helping him stall each time he freezes. Like Hunter’s analysis of the Calender’s “Noi pariamo Santarelli”, this aria does not make much rhetorical sense. It consists of strung together motives that recall the

Calender’s improvisatory list making. (It’s almost like a string of musical vignettes, with only the slightest connection with one another [if any]).

131

Example 3.6 “Ecco un splendido banchetto” (mm. 6-12), Ali's buffa patter

132

Example 3.6 continued

133

Example 3.6 continued

Although the number is entertaining and does not appear to be any kind of criticism of anything in particular, it is worth noting that Ali’s performance is not as different from the Calender’s performance of “Noi pariamo Santarelli” (as I have already mentioned above). True, Ali’s character is the hero of the opera and might as well be

European. His identity as a non-Westerner does not matter as much in this case; his seria status somehow helps him to rise above that designation. Yet, his aria is just as thrown- together as the Calender’s. After running through the entire text, complete with the onomatopoeic murmuring stream and exploding bombs, he begins again in measure 77.

In this case, he skips all of the text about the drunken fiddlers and wine from Tripoli,

134

singing first about the splendid banquet before launching again into his description of the stream. This time around, he modifies the motive, singing in eighth notes with a different melody. What is relevant here is the fact that, like the Calender, Ali does not know the rules of European musical language and is forced to guess them throughout. Now, we still have a European composer composing a fake European aria for a non-Western character to sing. So, of course it cannot be a flawless aria. Are we laughing because we are watching someone try to appropriate our musical language? Is Ali’s performance supposed to be self-satirical? Or are we laughing because we have forced a seria character to perform something that is really a buffa aria?

While Haydn shows us that he has many compositional tricks up his sleeve when it comes to demonstrating deceit and deception in his operas, it is the way that he represents the nature of deceit in L’incontro improvviso that interests us here. The role of dishonesty, disguise and deceit in this opera differs from that in both La canterina and Lo speziale. Here we have a character, the Calender, who is dishonest for dishonesty’s, or rather, greed’s sake. He is not trying to romance anyone – except perhaps Osmin – or to break up any established couples. Instead the Calender prides himself on his life of deceit, openly bragging that he can make a living by mocking the call of dervishes and taking advantage of strangers’ generosity when he is begging alms on the street. While the Calender is by far the most devious of the characters we have encountered in the operas thus far, he is also possibly the most self-aware. And yet, his self-awareness does not lead to success despite the fact that he has clearly had plenty of successes that pre- date the dramatic action that we see in L’incontro improvviso. Instead, the Calender’s unwillingness to change, his greed, and his inability or lack or desire to help those in need

135

around him ultimately leads to his downfall. While Don Pelagio, Gasparina, and

Apollonia likely continue leading the same lives of deception that we encountered over the course of La canterina, and Sempronio most likely continued on in his dreamy oblivion, the Calender’s life is irrevocably changed after he takes his game of deceit too far.

136

CHAPTER FOUR

INNER SPACE AS OUTER SPACE: THE IMAGINARY MUSIC OF THE MOON

In several important respects, Il mondo della luna can be seen as a companion, or, better yet “sequel”, to Lo speziale. Recall that in the latter opera Volpino schemed behind the scenes in order to get rid of Sempronio, who he believed to be the only obstacle standing in the way of a happy union with the apothecary’s ward, Grilletta.

Sending the apothecary away to a foreign country seemed to be Volpino’s only solution.

Yet, dramatically, Volpino had no way of realizing his plan. What if Haydn had given the audience the opportunity to both watch Volpino’s machinations and to see

Sempronio’s voyage to Turkey rather than concluding the opera with Sempronio’s realization that he has been tricked? If the opera had continued, Volpino would likely have been forced to construct an entire imaginary Turkey inhabited by even more fake

Turks. Sempronio’s burning desire to see this other part of the world already made him an easy target, one who willingly believed that a foreign king would have needed his services as an apothecary.

Although Il mondo della luna shares no connection with Lo speziale aside from the fact that they are both settings of Goldoni libretti, Il mondo della luna takes the eighteenth-century fascination with other countries and civilizations, and the comic convention of the oblivious and incredibly gullible foolish old man, one step further.

137

Now we get to watch an entire act play out in a completely and elaborately constructed lunar world. While we have encountered characters in disguise, we have not yet encountered an actual world in disguise. Yet, the moon of Il mondo della luna is more than just a world in disguise. It is a world that has been disguised by one character, in this case Ecclitico, in order to manipulate a fellow character. In this opera, the moon is the projection and realization of a schemer’s imagination to the grandest of scales. Yet, as we shall see, this lunar world need not fool the audience – it is meant for the protagonist Buonafede’s and, by extension, his servant Lisetta’s, eyes only. The audience cannot watch this act impartially for ultimately, the entirety of the second act, after

Buonafede wakes from his slumber, is seen through our protagonist’s eyes.

Il mondo della luna was the third and final Goldoni libretto set by Haydn and was composed for the August 1777 wedding celebrations of Prince Nicolaus’ second son,

Count Nicolaus, to his niece, Maria Anna Franziska, Countess von Weissenwolf.1 While the date of the premiere was once unknown, most scholars now agree that the opera was first performed on 3 August 1777.2 Setting aside the question of the first performance date, we know that the work must have pleased its audience for it became part of the repertory at Eszterháza.3 Unlike the other operas examined in this dissertation, Haydn did not extensively revise the libretto for the Eszterháza performance. However, he did

1 Haydn, Joseph, Joseph Haydn Werke, with a foreword by Günter Thomas, Series 25, vol. 7, Il Mondo Della Luna (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1979), vii. See also Caryl Clark, “Haydn in the theater: the operas,” The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 185. 2 H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, Haydn At Eszterháza, 1766-1790 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 406. Pierluigi Petrobelli gives a performance date of 3 August 1777. See Pierluigi Petrobelli, “Goldoni at Esterhaza: The Story of his Librettos set by Haydn,” in Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Conference, Vienna, 5-12 September 1982, ed. Eva Badura- Skoda (Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986), 315. Writing in the 1970s, Landon asserted that there were no surviving records with the exact first performance date. Neither Clark nor Thomas mention an exact date. 3 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 184.

138

not set the original version of the libretto, either. Instead Haydn’s version of this dramma giocoso follows Goldoni’s original libretto, which was written for Baldassare Galuppi in

1750, up to Act II, scenes xv-xvi.4 Beginning with the Act 2 finale Haydn follows the anonymous libretto revisions used in the 1775 Venetian version set by Gennaro Astarita therefore moving a large portion of what was originally the third act into the second act.5

In addition to being part of the wedding celebrations, and therefore an occasional work just like the others I have discussed, Il mondo della luna was the first opera that Haydn composed after Prince Nicolaus’ 1776 theatrical reforms at Eszterháza. Caryl Clark writes that the Prince had instituted “a repertory theater for the production of Italian opera, with twice-weekly performances alternating with concerts, spoken plays, and

German-language productions in the marionette theater.”6

This opera shows Haydn’s increasing comfort with the genre, a growing mastery that surely stemmed from the rigorous Eszterháza opera season. It is the largest of the operas examined in this dissertation and has the most complicated disguise/deception/performance complex. Landon describes the work as “vastly more complex in every respect than Die Feuersbrunst” and “much more interesting on the stage than L’incontro improvviso.”7 He continues, writing that

Haydn’s Il mondo della luna is an important step in his development as an operatic composer. Like almost everything Haydn composed for the stage at this

4 Caryl Clark, “The Last Laugh: Il mondo della luna, Goldoni, and Haydn,” Goldoni and the Musical Theatre, ed. Domenico Pietropaolo (Toronto: Legas, 1995), 68. 5 Thomas, Joseph Haydn Werke, ser. 25, vol. 7, vii; Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 524; Caryl Clark. "Mondo della luna, Il (ii)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O009280 (accessed February 14, 2011). Thomas, Landon, and Clark also note that the Act III finale is completely new, coming from neither the original Goldoni nor the Astarita revisions. Both the Galuppi and Astarita versions of Il mondo della luna were performed at the S. Moisé theater in Venice. See also Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School: 1740-1780 (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1995), 393. 6 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 184. 7 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 526.

139

period, it is far too long…and of course with our historical hindsight, we miss the guiding hand of a Mozartian character development.8

Haydn clearly devoted a lot of effort to this work’s composition, in some cases recomposing entire numbers multiple times. Since this chapter is more concerned with

Haydn’s composition of an entire act of disguise and deception, I will not address the compositional history of this work any further.9

The plot of Il mondo della luna is straightforward. Buonafede, whose name literally means “good faith”, is the token fool of the work.10 An over-protective father, he lusts after two things – his servant, Lisetta, and his friend, the fake astrologer Ecclitico’s supposed ability to travel to the moon where he communicates with a newly discovered lunar civilization. While his name serves as a first indication of his character type,

Buonafede’s actions leave the audience without any doubt that he will be the butt of the opera’s multi-act extended joke. We never find out what Ecclitico’s real professional calling is: Clark mentions that he is a doctor, but he poses as an astrologer for the entirety of the opera.11 In fact, just as Apollonia is identified as a “finta madre” in the libretto of

La canterina, Ecclitico is described as a “finto astrologo” here. Again, like Apollonia, the character of Ecclitico disproves Jessica Waldoff’s interpretation of the functional value of the word finta in eighteenth-century opera. As noted in chapter one, Waldoff argues that this word foreshadows the enlightenment, surprise, and “climactic

8 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 526. 9 For the revision history of the opera see Thomas’ Foreword to Il mondo della luna, Joseph Haydn Werke XXV/7, vol. 1 (Munich: Henle, 1978). 10 Michael Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 17, no. 3 (1984), 312. Brago writes that Buonafede is “clearly the Venetian Pantalon described by Goldoni in his Memoirs.” 11 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 185.

140

recognition” that can resolve the most tortuous plot.12 While both characters are identified as pretend, or false, in their respective librettos, we never learn their true identities. Furthermore, although their behavior might elicit curiosity, neither of these characters are the protagonists of their respective operas. Interestingly, both characters coach the other characters’ performances, not only instigating the dramatic conflict but also, especially in the case of Ecclitico, functioning as the director of the theatrical performance that is the second act.

Ecclitico’s plot against Buonafede is already in play when the opera opens, but is only gradually revealed to the audience. The astrologer’s opening recitative is framed by two choral odes to the moon, “O Luna lucente” (E-flat major) and “Prendiamo, fratelli, il gran telescopio” (F-major) in which he and his three “students” participate.13 These opening choral numbers are reminiscent of the opening chorus of dervishes in L’incontro improvviso. When we catch the dervishes in the opening scene of L’incontro improvviso behind closed doors, reveling in their debauched lifestyles, we have no reason to believe that they are anything other than men who like to eat and drink when the number begins.

Their criminal lifestyles gradually come to light throughout the course of the number. Il mondo della luna differs from this in that Ecclitico’s status as an imposter is not revealed to the audience immediately. The two odes, the first about the moon and the second about Ecclitico’s great telescope, frame Ecclitico’s opening recitative about his scientific discoveries.14 Obviously, we as the audience already suspect Ecclitico, given his finto designation, but he does not initially give us anything else to work with. Like the

12 Jessica Waldoff, Recognition in Mozart’s Operas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 104. 13 Act I, scene i. The keys of these numbers are relevant and will be discussed in greater detail below. 14 Act I, sc. i, number 2b.

141

Calender, the false astrologer eventually reveals his deception directly to the audience in the recitative that follows the second chorus. He tells us:

Oh le gran belle cose che a intendere si danno a quei che poco sanno per natura! Oh che gran bel métier ch’è l’impostura!

Oh, the great things that the stupid can be made to believe! Oh the great trade that is being an impostor!15

While we have encountered a wide range of disguised and dishonest characters in the previous operas, Ecclitico and the Calender stand alone. They are the only characters who openly flaunt their fraudulent lifestyles directly to the audience. And, in the case of

Ecclitico, Buonafede eventually figures out that he has been tricked, but the astrologer’s identity is never once called into question. In fact, it may be argued that since Ecclitico’s entire life is a hoax, he has no need to don any further disguise in the second act as he plays tour guide to Buonafede.

After informing the audience that he is an imposter, Ecclitico also reveals that his specialty is fake astrology and that he can deceive both fools and the learned. He states:

Io fo la parte mia con finta astrologia, ingannando egualmente i sciocchi e i dotti. My specialty is fake astrology, equally deceiving fools and the learned.16

Just as Ecclitico slowly reveals his specialty to us, he works rather slowly with

Buonafede. Rather than explicitly inviting the fool to the moon, Ecclitico simply tells

Buonafede that he has discovered a new lunar civilization, but he does not show him anything initially. We have not encountered maneuvers like Ecclitico’s before. Whereas characters in the previous operas simply showed up on stage in disguise without a fully solidified course of action, Ecclitico has clearly been working on this ruse for a great deal

15 Act I, sc. i, number 3, mm. 1-4. 16 Act I, sc. i, number 3, mm. 17-20.

142

of time. Additionally, we are privy to both his private and public actions. We see him planning with his peers and then following through with Buonafede. For once, the audience is fully integrated into the planning of the elaborate hoax and it is almost as though we are Ecclitico’s accomplices. After Ecclitico reveals his discovery to

Buonafede, he again tells the audience more of his plan and we watch his servants move a special machine complete with moving figures up against the end of his telescope:

Olà, Claudio, Pasquino, la macchina movete, fate ch’ella s’appressi al canocchiale; onde mirando in quella il signore Buonafede movere le figure ad unna ad una, creda mirar nel Mondo della Luna.

Claudio, Pasquino, move the machine, right against the telescope; when Buonafede looks through move the figures one by one, he will believe he is watching the World of the Moon.17

Using his “students” and servants, Ecclitico entices Buoanfede with an elaborate pantomime of a newly discovered lunar civilization seen through his magical telescope.

Although we do not initially know why Ecclitico is trying to manipulate Buonafede, the plot is ultimately motivated by the characters’ romantic desires. Ecclitico wants to marry one of Buonafede’s daughters, Clarice, while his friend, the seria Ernesto yearns to marry the fool’s other daughter, Flaminia (also a seria part). Ernesto’s servant, Cecco, rounds out the cast. As expected, Cecco lusts after Lisetta. Working with Ernesto and Cecco,

Ecclitico hatches a plan that will help the men to win the hands of Buonafede’s women in marriage.

We find out about the plan after Ecclitico has already allowed Buonafede to peer through his “magical” (fake) telescope.18 Buonafede becomes enthralled by the supposed social order of the lunar civilization that he has seen and now Ecclitico need only tell him

17 Act I, sc. ii, no. 5, mm. 1-8. 18 Act I, sc. iii.

143

that visiting this new land could be a reality. Buonafede, convinced that life does exist on the moon, expresses a desire to experience it. Ecclitico then offers his friend a powerful sleeping potion, telling him that the draught will give him the ability to fly out the window to the moon. Once Buonafede is under its spell, Ecclitico carries him off to his garden, which has been turned into a fake lunar environment and remains the setting for the entirety of the second act.

Within the world of Il mondo della luna, the moon functions as a substitute exotic country, thereby building on themes common to eighteenth-century exoticism in which

Ecclitico and the other deceivers behave as tour guides for the curious Buonafede. It does not take much to entertain or deceive our protagonist. He is content to listen to the musically murmuring breeze and the birds singing. He is happy to watch the lunar nymphs and shepherds dance and to have the opportunity to meet the lunar emperor and his friend, the star Hesperus. While the world of the moon is certainly a distant, distinct, and exotic place when compared to Buonafede’s terrestrial existence, its exoticism is not comparable to a city such as Cairo. The characters might sing in “lunatic,” conveyed as nonsense vocables, in the second act finale, but their accompanying music does not rely on any standard musical tropes of exoticism (compare to the Turkish nonsense of Lo speziale and L’incontro improvviso where gibberish and alla turca tropes are all that is necessary to connote difference). Eighteenth-century conceptions of the moon viewed it as a place very like earth, so Haydn does not need to make its sounds of difference as extreme as one might expect. According to Ephraim Chambers’ lengthy entry on the moon in his 1740 Cyclopædia, the moon, already shifting from its supposed role as one

144

of the planets to that of a satellite, was thought to have an atmosphere similar to that of earth. At the end of his six-page entry Chambers writes that:

Now, nature, we know, produces nothing in vain: rains and dews fall on our earth to make plants vegetate; and plants take root, grow, produce feeds and fruits for animals to feed on---But nature is still uniform and consistent with herself and like things serve for like ends---Why then may not there be plants and animals on the moon? To what other purpose so nice a provision for them?19

Chambers is careful not to assert that there must be life on the moon, but, given what was known about the satellite in the eighteenth century, his argument is not illogical.20 And, while “lunatic” is consistently used throughout the opera to signify an inhabitant of the moon, a survey of eighteenth-century encyclopedias shows that that was not the way the word was primarily defined.21 Rather, according to Chambers, a lunatic is “a person affected, or governed by the moon.”22 He continues, “Mad people are still called lunatics, from an ancient opinion that they are much influenced by that planet.”23

Twenty-one years later, the 1761 Encyclopedie Françoise et Angloise still defines lunatic as a person whose behavior was governed by the moon.24 As we shall see, Il mondo della

19 Chambers, Ephraim. Cyclopædia: or, an universal dictionary of arts and sciences; ... By E. Chambers, F.R.S. The fourth edition, corrected and amended; with some additions. In two volumes. ...Volume 2. London, 1741. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 17 Mar. 2011 . 20 Also see Ecclitico’s Act I, sc. ii recitative (no. 3), mm. 62-70. He tells Buonafede that the dark markings on the moon are hills and mountains of a soft rather than rocky material. The land rises and gives under the pressure of one’s feet and men can walk without overtiring themselves. “Le macchie oscure son del Mondo Lunar colline e monti. Non già monti sassosi come da noi veggiam, ma son formati d’una tenue material, la qual s’arrende e cede all pression del piede; indi s’alza bel bello e non si spacca, onde l’uomo cammina e non si stracca.” 21 Actually, Cecco’s Act II, sc. v aria, “Un avaro suda e pena” plays on the idea of the “lunatic” as crazy person, but reverses the idea so that people on earth are the “crazies” (pazzi). This also plays into the idea of the moon as a topsy-turvy world. 22 Chambers, Cyclopædia, “lunatic”. 23 Chambers, Cyclopædia, “lunatic”. 24 “Qui se gouverne selon la Lune. Les gens fantasques & distraits sont appellés Lunatiques.” “One who is governed by the moon. Unpredictable and inattentive people are called Lunatics. Encyclopedie Françoise, Latine et Angloise, ou dictionnaire universel des arts et des sciences, Francois, Latin et Anglois,

145

luna does have one true lunatic in its cast of characters, and, according to these contemporary definitions, that lunatic is none other than Buonafede. In fact, Buonafede both worships the idea of life on the moon and may also be deemed rather mad, or at least is driven mad, by his experiences in the second act. Ecclitico and his “students” might pretend to worship the moon in all its glory, but it is Buonafede who falls victim to its supposed powers as well as those of its so-called ruler(s).

With these definitions in mind, Haydn is faced with the difficult task of representing the moon as, based on Ecclitico’s description, somehow both similar to and different from earth. Although this world is not drastically different from the earth,

Haydn must also be sure to represent the fake astrologer’s garden as a disguised world, providing us with the usual clues that ensure that Buonafede remain the token fool in the cast. After all, the comedic thrust of the second act is all based on Buonafede’s willingness to believe that his friend’s garden is actually another planet. It is no easy feat to doubly represent an environment as both fake, for the sake of the audience and the characters who are in on the plot, and real for the sake of a few of the characters. With the audience and other characters in on the joke, Haydn does not need to go to great lengths to mask reality. The world is indeed a disguised one, but only just barely. Rather than attempting to sonically represent the difference of this world, Haydn instead gives the orchestra a greater role to play – relying heavily on instrumental interludes to help

Contenant La signification et l'explication de tous les mots de ces trois Langues, & de tous les termes relatifs aux Arts & aux Sciences. Tome premier A-K. Vol. Volume 2. Londres [i.e. Lyons?], M.DCC.LXI. [1761]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 31 Mar. 2011 .

146

portray the disguised world.25 Yet Haydn does more than literally represent the fake moon. In fact, we cannot even be sure that we are hearing the ambient sounds of

Ecclitico’s fake garden-turned-moon. Haydn instead relies on instrumental music and long-range tonal planning to turn the focus of the second act from its supposed focus – the exterior location of the moon – to that of the interior world of Buonafede’s hopes and dreams. Upon first hearing these interludes appear to be nothing more than the sounds of nature, the ambient sounds of Ecclitico’s lunar garden. But as we shall see, these sounds are an amplified version of Buonafede’s inner monologue and the so-called sounds of the moon are more than meets the ear. If Buonafede is indeed the opera’s resident lunatic, then the “world of the moon” takes on a whole new interpretation for this world really exists solely in Buonafede’s mind.

The second act of Il mondo della luna has two audiences – Buonafede and the opera house audience. Ecclitico and the other characters therefore put on two performances. They must perform for the fool in order to convince him to give up his daughters, beloved servant, and his money, but we are also privy to their actions. So,

Buonafede serves as the first audience, the character for whom everyone else performs, but through whose eyes we the audience see the entire second act. The opera’s audience then serves as the obvious “second” audience. Ultimately, it is not the music itself that serves to signify the moon’s difference, but rather the characters’ interactions with it. In particular, it is Buonafede’s reaction to and interaction with the music that Haydn uses to represent the moon that proves most significant.

25 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 185. She writes, “The exotic locale is admirably depicted in the first act by three short pantomimic intermezzi…and in the second by a sinfonia and several ballets.”

147

In the other operas that I have examined, Haydn used aria form, not-quite-right rhetorical flourishes, and parodies of expected generic aria types and conventions to signify that a performance was occurring. The examples I have cited have always been texted music, meaning that a character in disguise (be it literal or not) is singing to the other characters and/or the audience and the text itself usually serves as a first clue. Yet, most of the performance-related music in the act, at least that of the world in disguise, is purely instrumental. We have no textual commentary aside from Buonafede’s exclamations and the recitatives between arias. The French overture that accompanies

Cecco’s imperial entrance serves as a more literal method of compositional disguise in the opera.26 Whereas this music would likely have been noumenal in the first act, Haydn turns it into phenomenal music here. According to Kantian philosophy, a “noumenon” is

“an object of purely intellectual intuition, devoid of all phenomenal attributes.”27

Therefore, something that is noumenal can only be apprehended by “intellectual intuition.”28 This is music that the characters in the opera cannot hear.29 It accompanies everything they do, but only the audience is aware of it. Whereas something that is phenomenal can be physically perceived and is “an immediate object of sensation or perception (often as distinguished from a real thing or substance); a phenomenal or

26 See Act II, sc. v for Cecco’s imperial march. 27 noumenon, n. Third edition, December 2003; online version June 2011. ; accessed 17 June 2011. An entry for this word was first included in New English Dictionary, 1907. 28 noumenal, adj. Third edition, December 2003; online version June 2011. ; accessed 17 June 2011. An entry for this word was first included in New English Dictionary, 1907. 29 Carolyn Abbate, “Mahler’s Deafness: Opera and the Scene of Narration in Todtenfeier,” Unsung Voices: Opera and Musical Narrative in the Nineteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 119. Abbate refers to this phenomenon throughout the book, but I particularly like the opening of this chapter, “In opera, the characters pacing the stage often suffer from deafness; they do not hear the music that is the ambient fluid of their music-drowned world.”

148

empirical object (as opposed to a thing in itself).”30 In Unsung Voices, Carolyn Abbate tends to use this terminology to discuss the act of singing in opera, but the distinction between the noumenal and phenomenal works quite well when discussing and comparing the instrumental interludes in the first two acts of Il mondo della luna. In most cases, meta- or stage music often serves as the sole representation of phenomenal music within an opera, but here Haydn turns the instrumental interludes in the second act into music with the same function. The characters, or at least one character, can hear it. Haydn, then, allows both the audience and characters alike to become aware of the “music- drowned” world of Ecclitico’s fake moon.31 However, as is usually the case with Haydn, even this distinction proves to be more complicated than expected. For, in this case, the music becomes phenomenal for only one character – Buonafede.

For Haydn, the world of the moon is a place where the orchestra can – indeed must – become an active participant. Rather than simply provide unheard support for the actors on stage, the orchestra plays dual roles. At first, it appears to assume the character of the moon, providing all of the ambient sounds necessary to convince Buonafede that he is not simply in someone’s garden.32 Yet, as I have already mentioned, the orchestra also functions as the audible representation of Buonafede’s naïve self-deception, externalizing his willingness to accept Ecclitico’s promise in “good faith” to the audience while, at the same time, allowing Buonafede to believe he is hearing the sounds of the moon, which are represented musically, of course. In this case, the music becomes

30 phenomenon, n. Third edition, December 2005; online version June 2011. ; accessed 17 June 2011. An entry for this word was first included in New English Dictionary, 1906. 31 Abbate, “Mahler’s Deafness,” 119. 32 This is not a new phenomenon and it was not uncommon for composers to allow the orchestra to “interject” and provide commentary on a character’s performance. We need only to look back to the horn duet in Don Pelagio’s “Io sposar” (La canterina) as one example.

149

audible (and therefore phenomenal) for Buonafede (and therefore the audience), but not for the other characters. Although Ecclitico points out natural sounds typical of earth,

Buonafede’s eagerness to believe in the possibility of his lunar journey allows a newly heightened awareness of these ambient sounds. After all, birds sing and breezes murmur on earth. In order to understand the significance of the orchestra’s participation and its role as the representation of Buonafede’s innermost and now audible desires in the second act, we first need to look at the complex of three intermezzi and cavatinas that accompany Buonafede’s first glimpse of the moon in the first act. As we shall see,

Haydn turns the seemingly insignificant musical interludes that accompany the pantomime of Ecclitico’s lunar figures into our first clue of what is to come in the second act and he does this primarily through his choice of key.

Ecclitico’s elaborate lunar seduction of Buonafede (Act I, sc. iii) is accompanied by three purely instrumental interludes, nos. 6a, 6e, and 6i, that are played as the fake astrologer’s servants manipulate figures at the other end of the telescope.33 Knowing that

Buonafede is a firm believer in the power of patriarchy, each pantomime shows men in a position of power, dominating women.34 Therefore, in Buonafede’s opinion, the moon becomes a world where power is (unequally) distributed as it should be, a world of proper moral and social order. While this will certainly become important in the second act, it is also imperative to note that the characters on stage do not hear or interact with the three musical interludes. Rather, the interludes seem like incidental music, filling what would be silent space with the sounds one would expect in an opera. But these seemingly

33 There are no stage directions for what occurs during these interludes. 34 See Act I, sc.iii. The first pantomime, 6a, shows a young woman caressing an old man. The second, 6c, shows a husband beating his wife as punishment for her infidelity. The third, 6i, shows a “lover” leading his beloved by the nose.

150

innocent musical interludes do more than simply fill musical space. They are our introduction to Buonafede’s innermost desires and give us our first glimpse of his psychological state. When Buonafede first peers through the telescope, all of the accompanying music, both the intermezzi and their accompanying cavatinas, is in D- major. Yet, at the moment when Buonafede has been thoroughly seduced by the portrayals of lunar life as seen through Ecclitico’s telescope, his music shifts from D to

E-flat major, in the last of the three interludes, “Ho veduto dall’amante”.35 This shift to E- flat is no accident, for this is the key that represents Ecclitico’s fake version of the moon, or rather, the version that he tries to sell to his friend. Recall that the opening chorus of

Ecclitico’s students, “O luna lucente,” is also in E-flat.36 It is no coincidence then that the first act finale, “Vado, vado,” is in E-flat as well, as Buonafede both literally and figuratively drinks in Ecclitico’s potion.37

Despite its setting on Ecclitico’s fake moon, the second act begins with a short D- major adagio sinfonia minuet scored for solo violin and accompanied by the rest of the string section (no. 23). Haydn’s choice of key for the sinfonia seems rather surprising at first. Since the first act concluded with Buonafede fully, but unknowingly, complicit in

Ecclitico’s schemes, represented in E-flat major, and this act becomes the actual playing- out of the fake astrologer’s plot, beginning the act in another key is quite unexpected.

While we might have expected the opening number in E-flat, therefore signaling the continuation of Ecclitico’s triumph over Buonafede, Haydn’s choice of key here is no

35 Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 185. Clark sees the telescope in this scene as “representative of his [Buonafede’s] over-sized lust.” 36 According to Clark, E-flat major is an important key in the opera and evidence of Haydn’s “growing penchant for long-range tonal planning.” See Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 185. 37 In the first act finale, Ecclitico presents Buonafede with a “potion” that will give him the ability to fly out his window and to the moon. In reality, the astrologer has given his friend a powerful sleeping draft that causes him to get light-headed and woozy before finally passing out on stage.

151

accident. While E-flat major was the key of Ecclitico’s fake lunar world, recall that D- major was Buonafede’s key of lunar self-deception. In choosing D-major, Haydn immediately draws attention to the fact that our exploration of this lunar world will not be unbiased. Instead, we will be viewing the entirety of the second act through Buonafede’s eyes. With this point of view in mind, Haydn does not need to work quite as hard to represent the moon’s difference, for Buonafede’s imagination will willingly fill in any gaps or discrepancies. In fact, with the exception of the Act II, sc. i dialogue between

Ernesto and Ecclitico that occurs while Buonafede is still sleeping-off the fake astrologer’s powerful draught, we will not see another character out of their lunar disguise until the act’s conclusion. The fact that we are viewing the lunar world through

Buonafede’s eyes adds another layer of remove from reality and calls into question the very topsy-turvy social order of the act. Perhaps all of the instrumental music that occurs in this act, including Cecco’s imperial march, is all in our protagonist’s imagination.

This particular minuet exudes a serene, noble quality surely reminiscent of Buonafede’s idealized conception of a patriarchal lunar existence where women do what they are told.

Eager to comply with Buonafede, or, rather, eager to externalize his innermost psychological impulses, the orchestra thoughtfully mimics the twinkling of stars. At the same time, these “twinklings” can be read as the residual side effects of Ecclitico’s powerful sleeping draught as Buonafede slowly awakens from his deep slumber. Haydn uses harmonics – flageolet tones – in measures 8 through 9 and again in 26 through 28 that give the piece a slightly shimmering and twinkling quality (see example 4.1, mm. 8-

10).38

38 Thank you to Georgia Luikens for helping me decipher the markings in this number. The instrument names have been left in for this example because of Haydn’s specificity in creating this particular

152

Example 4.1 Act II sinfonia (mm. 8-10), twinkling stars

After assuring Buonafede that he is indeed on the moon, Ecclitico tells him to listen to the sweet harmonies of the bushes. Here Haydn provides us with a musical interlude completely lacking in stage directions for the actors.39 The characters are meant to simply sit and listen. Musically, the number is a repeat of the opening sinfonia, now elongated by means of extended echoes, and in F-major, the traditional pastoral key, rather than D-major.40 In fact, the first four measures are an exact transposition of the same measures of the sinfonia simply doubled in length by an echo (see examples 4.2a and 4.2b for a comparison of the mm. 1-4 of the sinfonia and mm. 1-8 of the first interlude). Both the reworking of the sinfonia music and the change of key are deliberate choices. The return of the sinfonia theme ensures the audience that the music that we are now hearing has been filtered through Buonafede’s imagination while Haydn’s choice of

ensemble. 39 Act II, sc. ii, no. 24, mm. 73-76. Ecclitico: Udite l’armonia ch’esce dagli arboscelli, agitate da dolci venticelli. Ecclitico: Listen to the harmony of the bushes, stirred by the gentle breezes. 40 Jeremy Hayes. "Orfeo ed Euridice (i)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O008226 (accessed April 12, 2011).

153

the pastoral key of F-major indicates that Buonafede is actually hearing the ambient sounds of Ecclitico’s garden. Yet, F-major is more than simply a traditional pastoral key.

Recall that the second choral ode at the opera’s beginning, “Prendiamo, fratelli, il gran telescopio,” was also in F-major. While E-flat major surely has greater lunar associations within the context of the opera, it must be noted that the ode to Ecclitico’s great telescope, through which this fake world of the moon can be viewed, was also in F-major.

Buonafede is no longer viewing the moon through Ecclitico’s fake telescope, but it was his initial viewing of the fake mechanical figures that helped to spur his desire to voyage to this new world.

Example 4.2a Act II sinfonia (mm. 1-15), first thematic area

154

Example 4.2b Number 25 (mm. 1-8), elongation of sinfonia first theme through echoes41

41 The instrument names have been left in to indicate the two specified ensembles.

155

Haydn’s choice of key serves as another interesting point of reference, recalling the Act II, sc. ii minuet that occurs in the Elysian fields in Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice.42

This slight resemblance is not the only correlation with Gluck’s opera that will occur in the second act of Il mondo della luna (to be discussed below and in the next chapter).43

Haydn’s point of reference here, comparing Buonafede’s first encounter of the faux lunar landscape with that of Orpheus’ introduction the Elysian Fields, is no accident. While

Orpheus marvels at its beauty, the landscape and the blessed spirits that live there will not and cannot be a worthy substitute for Eurydice. Whereas in the case of Buonafede, our protagonist is ultimately so seduced by the moon’s pastoral splendor that he willingly gives up his claim to Lisetta’s heart along with those of his daughters. Therefore, while both characters ultimately fail, Buonafede’s failure will not make him a tragic hero of the same caliber as Orpheus. Also like Orpheus, it is Buonafede’s extreme hubris that ultimately leads to his (albeit comic) downfall. Why on earth would a lunar emperor know or even care about this man? Yet, Buonafede’s blown up conception of his own self-importance allows him to continue on his deluded way through to the act’s conclusion.

Although the ensemble used in this first instrumental interlude is a small one,

Haydn specifies the strings as the first orchestra while the two bassoons and pair of horns are instructed to play behind the scenes (“dentro la scena”). This staging of the musicians helps mimic the interaction of the sweet lunar breeze with the local vegetation while also

42 Hayes refers to this minuet as the “Dance of the Blessed Spirits”. "Orfeo ed Euridice (i)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, Grove Music Online. 43 In fact, the original Ernesto’s Hesperus costume was actually the remodeled costume that the character of Orpheus wore in the previous year’s production of Gluck’s Orfeo at Eszterháza. See Caryl Clark. "Mondo della luna, Il (ii)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O009280 (accessed April 12, 2011).

156

conveying the vastness of the largely unknown moon – an uncharted territory of which

Ecclitico has only located one civilized area. The entire number is a play on the interaction between the two ensembles, conveyed as musical echoes. The distant sound of the offstage ensemble surely mimics a breeze coming from afar. The echo effect also foreshadows the characters’ later use of echo in order to keep Buonafede from wandering away from Ecclitico’s garden (to be discussed in more detail below). Ensuring that at least one of the characters on stage has heard this music, Buonafede immediately comments on the quality of the performance in the recitative that follows exclaiming that the trees on the moon are better than earthly musicians.44 Ecclitico, on the other hand, makes no comment about the interlude, simply ushering Buonafede on to the next stop on their lunar tour.

While Buonafede certainly enjoys the pastoral aspects of the moon, they are not the sole reason for his visit. After listening to the birds and the murmuring breeze and watching the lunar shepherds and nymphs dance, he is impatient to meet the lunar emperor. He asks, “Ma sa l’imperatore ch’io qui son arrivato?...Andiamlo a ritrovare.”

(But does the emperor know that I have arrived?...Let us go find him).45 While Ecclitico assures him that his time will come, the next number is yet another opportunity to humiliate his foolish friend. Scene iii begins with the arrival of a chorus of four knights complete with pages and a footman bearing clothing deemed appropriate for meeting a lunar emperor. The number that follows, “Uomo felice”, is an elaborate faux-ceremonial number that caters to Buonafede’s fascination with pomp and circumstance as the knights both celebrate their ruler and dress Buonafede in what Haydn simply refers to as

44 See number 26, mm. 1-3. “Bravi, bravissimi! Gli alberi in questo mondo suonan meglio de’ nostri suonatori.” “Bravi, bravissimi! The bushes in your world sound better than our musicians.” 45 Act II, sc. ii, number 28, mm. 3-7.

157

“fantastic garments” (gli abiti capriccios). While it is certainly worth noting that Haydn gives us overly pompous and “significant” music that makes a big deal of this seemingly ridiculous event with dotted eighth-note fanfare-like motives in the horns and oboes and an overly formal text, it is imperative to point out that this number is in D-major. Again,

Haydn’s choice of key ensures that we are watching Buonafede’s account of life on the moon. The pretense of this number surely satisfies our protagonist’s wildest dreams (and again, the key refers back to the act’s stately opening minuet).

Despite being attired in the appropriate vestment, Buonafede must wait an additional two numbers for Cecco-as-emperor’s entrance in scene v. The stage directions for this scene are both detailed and fantastic:

a triumphal chariot appears, drawn by four men in bizarre costumes; in the car is Cecco, dressed as an emperor; at his feet Ernesto, in a hero’s costume, with a star on his forehead.

Buonafede watches in amazement. The chariot advances to the sound of a march and stops in the middle of the stage; Ernesto steps down and with a show of humility, helps Cecco to descend.46

This is our first encounter with Cecco in character as lunar emperor (as well as Ernesto as

Hesperus), and these are by far the most detailed stage directions we have seen in the opera thus far. In addition to the level of detail given in the directions, the imperial march that accompanies Cecco’s entrance is by far the longest of the instrumental interludes in the act (52 measures including repeats). The maestoso march is in C-major and Haydn uses the full force of the orchestra including oboes, bassoons, horns, and

46 Act II, sc. v, number 33. The stage directions are as follows: “Si vede in fondo della scena un carro trionfale, tirato da Quattro Uomini bizzzaramente vestiti, con sopra il carro CECCO, vestito da Imperatore, e a’ piedi del medisimo ERNESTO, vestito all’eroica, con una stella in fronte. BONAFEDE osserva con meraviglia. A suono di sinfonia si avanza il carro, e giunto alla metà della scena, lo fermano; ed Ernesto scende ed aiuta a scendere Cecco con affettata sommissione.”

158

timpani in addition to the strings. Imagine if Haydn had provided this level of detail to the stage directions that accompanied the lengthy accompanied recitative of Don

Pelagio’s meta-aria in La canterina. This is a play within a play, performed solely for

Buonafede, and the stage directions leave nothing to the imagination. This number is certainly an opportunity for the actors to show off their comedic skills and to play with the convention of the French overture, the imperial entrance, and all its accompanying rigid severity. While Haydn is usually careful to provide us with some sort of musical clues when characters have overreached the possibilities of their disguises, Cecco’s imperial march wholly lacks such musical scruples. If anything, this number does not deviate from any of the standard tropes associated with the genre. While it is not in any of the keys that we have yet associated with Buonafede or the moon, the fact that the number is a “textbook” example of a French overture reminds us that we, as an audience, are not getting an unbiased tour of the moon. Again, the orchestra creates a sensuous, audible expression of Buonafede’s wildest dreams. He would never have any chance of meeting an emperor back on earth, but here in the perfect world of the moon anything is possible. Haydn allows the orchestra to be complicit in both Ecclitico’s joke and in the expression of our protagonist’s innermost desires. The music serves both to exaggerate the mock-seriousness of Cecco’s and Ernesto’s entrances while, at the same time, performing the music that Buonafede – and the audience – would expect of an imperial entrance. Both our protagonist and the audience would have been well aware of the seria convention of the French overture and at least the audience would have seen and heard the humor in this number. The orchestra complies with Buonafede’s wildest dreams, not

159

leaving any room for potential flaws or chinks in the façade of performance.47 If

Buonafede had any glimmer of doubt whatsoever, Haydn would have provided us with some kind of musical clue. Yet, despite the ridiculousness of a servant dressed as an emperor being carried onto the stage in a chariot pulled by four men in garish costumes,

Buonafede remains convinced that he is witnessing a real imperial entrance and not simply the performance of his fantasies by malicious characters who want nothing more than to deceive him.

After meeting and being insulted by both the emperor and Hesperus, Buonafede is left to his own devices in Act II, sc. vii. While his delight at everything he has encountered thus far has been clear, this is his first chance to voice his enchantment with this new world and he does so in his aria, “Che mondo amabile”. Landon, in his description of the opera, describes this aria as one of the many “witty and delightful moments” of Il mondo della luna.48 Rather than commenting on his interactions with the royal lunar court, Buonafede instead speaks again of the wonderfully musical bushes, singing birds, and overall happy and joyous atmosphere of the moon. This is the first time that Buonafede has been left alone since arriving on the moon and he decides to explore his surroundings, but cannot figure out which way to go. At each turn, an echo responds, helping to give the impression of the vastness of the moon. While Buonafede is thoroughly amused by the echo, it serves as more than a natural phenomenon here. In fact, the echo is played by multiple off-stage characters who are working hard to keep

Buonafede from wandering out of the garden (and off-stage) and therefore from

47 Like Clark, I wonder what Nicolaus and his audience thought about this act. Clark writes that this was “rather satirical fare for the assembled wedding guests.” See Clark, “Haydn in the theater,” 185. 48 Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 525. He writes, “We might single out the richly scored Aria con balletto that Buonafede, enchanted with life on the moon, sings in Atto IIo: ‘Che mondo amabile,’ where the singer is instructed to whistle together with the woodwind.”

160

potentially figuring out that he has been tricked. Although the echo ultimately leads

Buonafede around in a big circle, our protagonist is too taken with his environment to be angry. Instead, he finds “Signor” Echo’s mischievous behavior rather charming. Lulled into complacence by his pleasant surroundings, Buonafede launches into an aria that recalls most of the music and events from the act’s beginning. The aria also gives the orchestra another chance to embody Buonafede’s continuing naïve self-deception.

Haydn chooses to set “Che mondo amabile”, a triple allegretto, in D-major thus making it entirely clear that this key represents Buonafede’s childlike conception of the moon (the act’s finale, Lisetta’s coronation, is also in D-major). The aria’s triple meter recalls the act’s opening sinfonia, while the key reinforces my argument that this is our protagonist’s whimsical perception of lunar life. The number is scored for two flutes, two oboes, two bassoons, two horns, and a complete string section. While Haydn does not give the orchestra specific stage directions, the aria is filled with orchestral echoes – of instruments echoing other instruments, of the orchestra echoing music that is reminiscent of earlier numbers in the act, and of the orchestra assuming the role of Signor

Echo and echoing Buonafede’s vocal line. This is the orchestra’s chance to play up its role and, rather than try to trip Buonafede, it proves itself entirely cooperative, never once laughing at its duet partner. Haydn uses rather literal word painting throughout the aria – in the description of the birds singing and of the echo teasing – and the orchestra’s cooperation proves to be less a portrayal of actual events and ambient sounds than it is a portrayal of Buonafede’s own self-deception. The orchestra’s cooperation allows our protagonist to hear only what he already knows and believes to be true of this lunar world and the echoes are simply his own thoughts and beliefs reflected back to him – just as the

161

fake moon is a mirror of his own fantasy. While Ecclitico and his friends have set up their elaborate hoax with malicious intent of tricking Buonafede into giving them his daughters, servant, and money, the orchestra appears to revel in Buonafede’s enjoyment.

It is clear that he has been wholly seduced and enchanted by this place and it will take a great deal to make him see through the hoax. His childlike innocence and joy shines through in this number more than in any other. Unlike most opera arias in which the orchestra might laugh or speak directly to the audience without the character(s) hearing or responding, Buonafede not only hears the music that accompanies him, but he conjures up the orchestral responses throughout the duration of the aria. He imagines birds singing and suddenly the orchestra mimics birds as he whistles along. While the aria’s text is little more than a list of the natural splendors of Ecclitico’s garden/the moon and the melody is simple and stepwise, the vivid word painting and interaction between our protagonist and the orchestra lends to the number’s charm. While the number serves as evidence of Buonafede’s delight, it also serves as the ultimate showpiece of just how deluded our protagonist has become, of just how willing he is to believe everything that he has seen. More than that, this number shows that the orchestra is working with the fool, that it will willingly accompany Buonafede through his description of all the wonderful (but fake) splendors that he has encountered. If anything, it draws attention to just how foolish Buonafede really is.

While the two are not musically similar, Buonafede’s “Che mondo amabile” seems to be yet another reference to Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice. In this case, the number in question is Orpheus’ “Che puro ciel” in Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice (Act II, sc. ii)

162

which the latter sings upon his arrival in the Elysian Fields.49 Gluck’s Orfeo had been performed at Eszterháza in 1776 and Haydn was surely familiar with it. Gluck does not engage in the same kind of literal word painting and audible representations of nature that

Haydn does, but both Orpheus and Buonafede convey the same kind of awe and wonder at their new surroundings. Both sing of the murmuring breeze and the singing birds and express simple wonder at the beauty of the world before them. In Opera as Drama,

Joseph Kerman writes that Orpheus responds to Gluck’s representation of the perfect heaven “with a calm rapture comparable to that of Winckelmann before a Tuscan ruin.”50

Buonafede is no Orpheus, and his aria lacks any trace of Gluckian ‘noble simplicity.’ Yet for Buonafede, the moon is a sort of Elysian Fields. It is a place of wonder and beauty where only the “blessed” or, perhaps, most deserving and patriarchal, may dwell. Unlike

Orpheus, Buonafede needs little more than this contrived landscape to be content, and will ultimately be so overwhelmed by his lunar experience that he will give up his beloved Lisetta and his daughters to the men who have orchestrated the entire plot against him. The splendors of Elysium serve as a temporary distraction for Orpheus, but they cannot serve as a substitute for his desire for Eurydice.

“Che mondo amabile” begins with a 19-measure ritornello that introduces the echo motive that permeates the entire number. Echoes figure into the aria both literally and figuratively. While the orchestra will occasionally echo either itself or Buonafede’s melody, it also echoes (perhaps recalls is a better word) the singer’s reminiscences of his

49 After passing before the three judges – Rhadamanthus, Minos, and Aeacus – spirits deemed wicked were sent to everlasting torment while the good were sent to the Elysian Fields (a place of blessedness). See Edith Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes (New York: The New American Library, 1963), 39. 50 Joseph Kerman, Opera as Drama: New and Revised Edition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 35.

163

lunar experiences thus far. Quite literally, it echoes his sense memories, again externalizing the internal so that we can hear what Buonafede has heard throughout the act. Most of these sense-memories are of an audible nature (murmuring bushes, singing trees, the echo) with the exception of the shepherds and nymphs dancing. Within the ritornello, the pairs of woodwinds work together, each echoing a different instrument and working from the highest range (the flutes) to the lowest (the bassoons) over a tonic drone played by the horns. Although the number is not in a standard pastoral key, the drone serves to give it a simple pastoral feel (see example 4.3, mm. 1-4). This echo motive returns with Buonafede’s vocal entrance in measure 20, therefore recalling the action of the recitative that triggered the aria, as he sings about the incomparable bliss and happiness of this new world, “Che mondo amabile, che impareggiabile felicità”

(“What a delightful world, what incomparable bliss”).

164

Example 4.3 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 1-4), echo effect in opening ritornello

Buonafede launches into his summary of splendid lunar occurrences in measure

37 beginning with the music of the bushes. The texture of the number changes entirely here with the strings playing a chord on the first beat of measures 38 and 39 as

Buonafede reminds us that the bushes make music.51 This effect ultimately draws more attention to the imaginatively conjured music of the lunar vegetation that Buonafede then demonstrates (which bears no resemblance to the actual music that we heard in number

25). Buonafede clearly does not remember the exact melody of the little trees that so

51 Gli alberi suonano.

165

entertained him; instead, he mimics the rising triad of the bass and viola that open the instrumental interlude (no. 25) before tacking on the little turn figure that plays a prominent part in that number (see example 4.2a and compare with example 4.4 mm. 41-

43 of this aria). The woodwinds interject in measure 40 before Buonafede joins them with vocables in measures 41 through 43.

Example 4.4 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 41-43), Buonafede's imitation of the musical breeze and vegetation

Buonafede’s fondness for the bushes then triggers a memory of the creatures that live inside them – birds – and he then imitates lunar birdsong (Haydn’s stage directions tell the performer to whistle ‘with the mouth’, “fischiando [colla bocca]”).52 The strings drop out as he begins to whistle, doubled by the first oboe and echoed by the rest of the winds (see example 4.5, mm. 43-49). Again, this is word painting at its most literal.

When Buonafede decides to imitate birds, he is accompanied by only the woodwinds.

52 See f.n. 46 for Landon’s remarks regarding the whistling.

166

And just as we can often hear birds imitating each as they communicate via song, in measures 46-49 the orchestra engages in a birdsong-like call-and-response. It should be noted that Buonafede sings the same melody for bushes and birds alike, the second time just one step higher than the first. Since these are both nature-related, it makes sense that they be linked by the same musical motive. For while our initial hearing of the instrumental interludes was filtered through our protagonist’s ears, this hearing is his faulty recollection of the actual events. This raises the question – what did we (and he) actually hear during Ecclitico’s tour at the beginning of the act?

Example 4.5 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 43-49), Buonafede's imitation of lunar birdsong

After he has finished whistling like a bird, Buonafede reminds us of the nymphs and shepherds who danced for him at the beginning of the act (in the number 27 balletto).

The orchestra then interjects with a completely new little dance tune reminiscent of a country dance (see example 4.6, mm. 51-55). At this point in the opera, in this aria in particular, it becomes clear that Buonafede’s sense memories are rather inaccurate.

167

Finally, Buonafede reminds us of the echo that he found so amusing. The orchestra interjects yet again, first the flutes echoing Buonafede followed by the oboes and bassoons (see example 4.7, mm. 56-61). Yet again, even recalling this echo makes

Buonafede happy and he cadences on the tonic in measure 67.

Example 4.6 "Che mondo amabile" (mm. 51-55), Buonafede's memory of the dance of nymphs and shepherds

168

Example 4.7 “Che mondo amabile” (mm. 56-61), Buonafede and the orchestral echo

169

Example 4.7 continued

Buonafede returns to the opening text in measure 74, but gets so carried away singing about the moon’s happiness that he gets caught up in buffa-esque patter and neglects to mention the specific things that he found so delightful (mm. 74-91).53 He simply repeats the first and last line of the text as he gets more and more excited, and, in the process of his excitement, leading the aria to A-major (the dominant). Likewise, the

53 “Che mondo amabile, che impareggiabile felicità! Tutto è godibile, tutto è beltà.” What a delightful world, what incomparable happiness! Everything is enjoyable, everything is beautiful.

170

orchestra sympathizes with Buonafede’s excitement and interjects with a restatement of the country-dance tune from measures 51-55 (mm. 92-96) before he can resume his singing. He then re-enters in measure 99 and begins the text from the beginning yet again, this time remembering to tell us about the trees, birds, nymphs, and echoes. The aria then continues with a varied repeat of the entire opening. Buonafede eventually gets so excited by his second mention of the echoes that he gets a little carried away, moving on into an excited buffa patter in measure 135 as he continues to sing about the wonders of the world of the moon. This number is Buonafede’s last chance to revel in childlike innocence on the moon for the plot is soon complicated by the arrival of his servant and daughters.

Haydn’s reliance on the orchestra as the sounding representation of Buonafede’s delusion is rather unlike anything we have seen in La canterina, Lo speziale, or

L’incontro improvviso. While the orchestra occasionally provided us with clues indicating that all was not right, that someone was not who they claimed to be, it was never such a willing and active participant in any of the characters’ schemes or hoaxes in the other operas. Rather, the orchestra seemed to work against the deceitful characters, giving their victims and the audience obvious and audible clues. Within the second act of

Il mondo della luna, it is clear that the orchestra is giving us clues, but these clues indicate Buonafede’s complete lack of self-awareness rather than telling him that something is wrong. While Haydn’s use of the orchestra here represents a more sophisticated and complex method of representing disguise and deception, this chapter has only explored the actual masking and disguise of Ecclitico’s garden without yet addressing the characters who actually assume disguises for their parts in the fake

171

astrologer’s hoax. As we shall see, the orchestral disguise of the lunar world is just one of the techniques Haydn uses to represent Ecclitico’s great hoax.

172

CHAPTER FIVE

CASTING A FOOL’S UTOPIA IN HAYDN’S IL MONDO DELLA LUNA

In the previous chapter we explored Haydn’s use of the orchestra as both the character of the moon and as the sounding representation of Buonafede’s innermost thoughts and desires, or as I see it, his self-delusion, as he interacted with the disguised world of the second act of Il mondo della luna. In this chapter we will examine the behavior of the other characters, mostly those who are in disguise – both literal and idiosyncratic – as they try to enact life on the fake lunar world. Recall that an idiosyncratic disguise is one in which a character engages in a behavior typically associated with a specific generic character type, rather than assuming a literal disguise.

Within the context of this opera, the moon is a place where servants can be emperors and empresses and seria characters can participate in the “performance” of the moon, thus contributing to the sense that the lunar social order is “topsy-turvy” when compared to that of the earth. Here characters are free to play outside – and against – their generic social roles.1

On the moon, the seria Ernesto, who, along with his female counterpart Flaminia, remained absent from the first act’s finale, now assumes a disguise (as Hesperus) and

1 Caryl Clark, “Mondo della luna, Il (ii).” In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, edited by Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/O009280 (accessed May 20, 2011). Clark simply states that “social positions are now reversed” on the moon without any further comment.

173

participates in Ecclitico’s grand ruse.1 His servant Cecco now assumes the role of lunar emperor. Cecco is not the only buffa character who gets the chance to play a faux seria role; the sassy servant Lisetta is ultimately crowned his empress by the act’s finale.

Further complicating the expected operatic social order, both Ernesto and Flaminia participate in the second act’s finale. This in itself is a rare occurrence that has sparked debate about whether or not this work is a true dramma giocoso.2 It has also aroused questions regarding whether or not Haydn actually knew the standard practices of the genre. It seems inconceivable that Haydn, a composer whose sonata forms are as varied as those of any other composer, should feel any compunction to observe “conservative frames” or any other period convention.3 In his article on Il mondo della luna, Michael

Brago expresses reservations about the representation of the standard social order in

Haydn’s version of the opera. Stating that “strong conventions dictated the type of music appropriate to each type of character,” Brago questions Haydn’s designation of the work

1 Hesperus is the Evening Star. "Hesperus" The Oxford Classical Dictionary. Ed. Simon Hornblower and Anthony Spawforth. Oxford University Press 2009. Oxford Reference Online. Oxford University Press. Brandeis University. 20 May 2011 http://www.oxfordreference.com/views/ENTRY.html?subview=Main&entry=t111.e3075. The 1778 edition of the Encyclopædia Brittanica defines Hesperus as “son of Cephalus by Aurora, as fair as Venus, was changed into a star, called Lucifer in the morning, and Hesperus in the evening.” Hesper is “an apellation given to the planet Venus when she sets after the sun.” Encyclopædia Britannica; or, a dictionary of arts, sciences, &c…The second edition; greatly improved and enlarged. Illustrated with above two hundred copperplates. Vol. I. Indocti discant, et ament meminisse periti. Volume 5. Edinburgh, MDCCLXXVIII. [1778]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 19 May 2011 http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&type=multipage&tabID=T001& prodId=ECCO&docId=CW125531833&source=gale&userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0&d ocLevel=FASCIMILE. 2 Michael Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 17, no. 3 (1984), 309. In her entry on Il mondo della luna in the New Grove Dictionary of Opera, Caryl Clark notes that Goldoni typically excluded seria characters from “the predominantly comic domain of finales”. See Clark, “Mondo della luna, Il (ii).” In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, (accessed May 20, 2011). 3 Mary Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna: A Poetics of Entertainment, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 71.

174

as a dramma giocoso.4 He is bothered by Haydn’s supposed deviation from these conventions and continues, writing that:

In particular, it is Haydn’s inclusion of serious characters in the second act finale that stands out as a departure from earlier practice. Yet, just ten years later, Mozart was to do the same in what is probably the most brilliant act-ending ensemble ever written, the finale to Act I of Don Giovanni; and in the year his rival, Paisiello, went so far as to include similar ensemble writing in his serious opera Pirro. Should we assume that what Mozart and Paisiello did knowingly, Haydn did only by mistake?5

Brago misses the point of the act entirely. In order to make the moon somehow different from the Earth, it is imperative that the characters actually behave differently when on the moon. Brago does eventually concede that Haydn might have known the genre well, writing:

After taking into account the particular occasion for which Haydn wrote this opera, as well as changes in musical style, Haydn is shown to have been well aware of the niceties of the Italian operatic tradition in which he worked, an awareness sometimes overlooked by those who concentrate on his supposed isolation at the Hungarian estates of his Esterházy patrons.6

Familiarity with the genre or no, Haydn’s tampering with generic conventions is key to the success of Il mondo della luna. After all, part of the comedy of comic opera in general lies in the repeated attempts at upending the generically prescribed social order.

In her discussion of opera buffa’s social reversals, Mary Hunter writes:

If the outermost framework of opera buffa is its reception and self-representation as sheer pleasure, the inner frame, so to speak, is its representation of immutable hierarchy as the social fundament of the genre. However, opera buffa would not be comedy if it did not routinely test and stress those conservative frames with a variety of disruptive elements.7

4 Michael Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 309. 5 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 309. 6 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 309. 7 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 71.

175

Following Hunter’s argument, Haydn is merely testing and stressing the “conservative frames” of opera buffa in order to ensure the comic thrust of the second act.

In testing these social boundaries, the moon now becomes the anti-Earth, and at the same time, according to Buonafede, somehow better than Earth. Of course

Buonafede does not see it as an anti-Earth, just as a representation of perfection, of the life that he has been denied in his earthly existence or, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, as an Elysian Fields of sorts where only a chosen few may reside. If the moon is supposed to be inherently different from earth, it makes sense to upend standard operatic convention, both musically and socially, in order to tell the story. Haydn is faced with no other choice than to turn convention on its head in order to better represent this world.

While representing difference propagates the drama, this so-called difference is really all a hoax. So Haydn, as noted in the previous chapter, is faced with the task of representing a biased reality as seen and heard from Buonafede’s point-of-view while, at the same time, making sure that we as the audience are aware of the dual layers of performance that occur in this opera. Just as we have seen in Haydn’s other operas, or in comic operas in general, the characters in disguise are often participating in dual-layered performances. They obviously perform for whatever character has been designated the victim in the cast as well as for the audience. In the case of Il mondo della luna,

Buonafede might be unaware of the reversal of social roles that occurs in the second act, but the audience surely is not. Here Haydn is free to play with and thwart operatic conventions in order to illustrate the unfolding performance as it is created. Moreover, it is imperative that Haydn does not deviate from standard convention until the second act.8

8 Significantly, none of the seria characters participate in the first act finale whereas all of the characters are active participants in the second act finale.

176

Up to that point, the characters must behave according to the dictates of generic convention. So, while Brago might find Ernesto’s exclusion from and later inclusion in the first and second act finales to be problematic, it makes perfect sense from a dramaturgical point of view.

Despite the fact that Buonafede is lured to the moon with false images of an extremely patriarchal society – a young woman caressing an old man, a husband beating his wife as punishment for her infidelity, a man leading his lover by the nose – in reality, the fake moon allows the opera’s characters to subvert the standard moral and social codes inherent to eighteenth-century terrestrial life.9 In his discussion of Il mondo della luna, Ted Emery notes that the moon, as viewed through Ecclitico’s telescope, becomes

“an ostensibly perfect patriarchal society where women are successfully dominated, unlike Earth, where, according to Buonafede, they routinely enjoy ‘excessive’ freedom.”10 For whatever reason, Buonafede is drawn to this so-called perfect world, one that Emery refers to as “the familiar topos of moon as anti-Earth.”11 While the images that Buonafede sees through Ecclitico’s telescope might lead him to believe that men control life on the moon, that is not the case in this opera. By the time they enter in

Act II, both of Buonafede’s daughters, Clarice and Flaminia, are thoroughly engaged in

Ecclitico’s hoax and, while that might not be the initial case for Lisetta, she too manages to trump her master and, ultimately, every other character. For, in Lisetta’s case, she is the only character other than Buonafede who does not know that the entire act is a scam,

9 See chapter 4 for a discussion of the Act I instrumental interludes and their accompanying pantomimes. 10 Ted Emery, Goldoni as Librettist: Theatrical Reform and the drammi giocosi per musica. Studies in Italian Culture: Literature in History, vol. 3, ed. Aldo Scaglione (New York: Peter Lang, 1991), 97. 11 Emery, Goldoni as Librettist, 95.

177

and yet she plays along in order to best benefit from a world in which her master is not entirely in control.

Emery refers to Il mondo della luna as a “reverse-world” opera in which Goldoni makes no attempt to mirror real society.12 He continues, noting that libretti such as Il mondo della luna situate recognizable social virtues and vices in an “overtly fantastic context, magnifying them far out of proportion” and that the reverse-world operas “make their polemical point and achieve a comic effect not by imitating reality, but by deliberately distorting it.”13 Yet, Emery misses the point here. While the second act of this opera does grossly exaggerate reality with extended and overly ornate imperial entrances and coronations that are performed in the nonsensical language of lunatics, the disguised characters, at least Cecco and later Lisetta, do their best to mimic the expected behaviors of their reversed social roles, and it is their attempts at performance that contribute to the opera’s topsy-turvy feel. None of the characters involved have any intention of trying to mimic actuality reality. Also, per standard generic conventions, buffa servants did generally rule their households, albeit not openly. In fact, in a typical opera buffa servants often had to hide their knowledge. The audience sees how canny they are, however, and in watching them deceive their masters. In the second act of Il mondo, what would normally be hidden is celebrated outwardly, as Cecco and Lisetta openly act as their masters’ superiors. They no longer have to be furtive about their actual power when they are on the moon. While Cecco’s terrestrial existence as

Ernesto’s servant is a far cry from his role as the emperor of the moon, he, like Lisetta, often has the upper hand when it comes to dealing with his master. After all, the buffa

12 Emery, Goldoni as Librettist, 95. 13 Emery, Goldoni as Librettist, 95.

178

servant often became the voice of reason in comic genres. Again, Hunter’s interpretation of the generic social conventions of the opera is useful here. She writes that

the exercise of action by a character in the lower orders of society almost always involves the topsy-turvy spectacle of superiors being subjected to the rule of the servant, or forced to play along with events as arranged by that servant, and one is led to ask both what function is served by the temporarily upside-down world and how (or whether) this topsy turvy is set right or contained.14

Following this logic, these buffa servants can easily play the roles of the rulers of the moon.

While the servants might indeed have experience in actually being their own masters, the fact that they are imitating an unknown society frees them from the same constraints that they might have faced were this farce given a terrestrial setting. They know nothing of the moon; no one in the eighteenth century would. This again gives the characters more freedom in their performances. We need only think back to the exoticism of Lo speziale and L’incontro improvviso in order to compare different approaches to performance and disguise. In those cases, the characters could have at least read about life in Turkey or elsewhere within the Ottoman Empire. In the case of the moon, the characters only know what they have seen through Ecclitico’s telescope, or at least what he has told them. At this time, the moon was believed to be quite similar to the earth; therefore, a lunar civilization should not be all that different. They are free to imagine and represent the moon however they best see fit. Returning to the idea of the exaggerated moon, it cannot be the same as the earth and such gross exaggeration is necessary to make Ecclitico’s garden feel different enough that Buonafede will have no doubts. Furthermore, while part of the comic thrust of the work is knowing that

14 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 80.

179

Buonafede actually believes that he and his loved ones have been transported to the moon, the rest of the act’s success relies on the fact that, despite the characters’ ridiculous behavior and costumes, the fool has no qualms about marrying off his daughters and giving away most of his money to these supposed lunar gentlemen. Buonafede is such a fool that he will believe anything now that his wildest dreams have come true. The characters have no need to make the moon sound even remotely exotic. While the disguised characters might wear literal – and fantastic – disguises in this act, their actions and behaviors are surprisingly similar to their “real” existences back on earth.

Goldoni’s libretto is clearly a social commentary – Buonafede is an overly controlling father with a fierce desire to return to a more patriarchal way of life in which women are ultimately seen and not heard – but this social commentary is not key to the interpretation of the unfolding action and drama of the second act. Instead, we must pay attention to the way the characters perform their newly minted lunar roles. Part of the pleasure of watching this opera is watching the characters struggle to stay in character.

Some, like Ecclitico, whose identity is never once called into question, and whose actual musical identity is ultimately irrelevant, succeed. Others, like Cecco, fail musically but still manage to convince Buonafede. We even get to watch another servant, Lisetta, struggle with accepting her fate as empress of the moon. Yet, by the time we reach the act’s finale, in which her coronation occurs, she is ordering the other characters around.15

We know that everything is an act, a farce, but seeing characters such as Cecco masquerade as lunar royalty makes the work more humorous, while at the same time, signaling the ludicrous fact that Buonafede actually believes the entire charade. While

15 Lisetta sings, “You, vassals, what are you doing? Why are you standing there?” (Su vassal, cosa fate, perché state fermi là?)

180

my previous chapter shows that we are not getting an impartial view of the moon, that we are watching this act unfold through Buonafede’s eyes, this chapter shows that even the characters’ subtly flawed performances cannot dissuade our protagonist, therefore ensuring that he remains the punch line of this act-long joke. Haydn again makes sure to give us musical clues to signal that these characters are playing outside of their comfort zones.

While this is a world in which Cecco and Lisetta can play at imperial rulers, this is also a world in which the seria Ernesto, who, as I have already mentioned, disguises himself as Hesperus in the second act, can insult Buonafede directly to his face. When

Buonafede recognizes Ernesto, or at least believes that this character of Hesperus resembles Ernesto rather closely, Ernesto tells the fool that there is a jester that closely resembles Buonafede at the lunar court:

Buonafede: Io non so che mi dir, voi tutto Ernesto certo rasomigliate.

Ernesto: Non vi maravigliate, che nella nostra Corte abbiamo noi un buffon che somiglia tutto a voi.

Buonafede: I do not know what you are telling me; you certainly resemble Ernesto closely.

Ernesto: Do not be amazed, that in our court we have a fool who closely resembles you.16

Yet again disregarding the notion that the faux lunar setting allows these characters to act however they may please, Brago calls Ernesto’s seria status into question, writing that,

“Of the characters in Haydn’s Il mondo della luna, only Ernesto is ambiguous.”17 For

Brago, Ernesto’s participation in Ecclitico’s plot undermines his noble seria status. In

16 See Act II, sc. 5, no. 34, mm. 13-28, in particular, see mm. 23-28. 17 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 326.

181

fact, Brago sees the scene to which I just referred as the moment in which Ernesto is transformed from a seria to a mezzo carattere.18 Here it must be noted that this was not actually Ernesto’s line in the original libretto. In Galuppi’s setting, Cecco is the character that responds in this manner to Buonafede.19 The change that Haydn made here is significant and it can be interpreted in one of two ways. In the first, Ernesto is liberated by the act’s otherworldly setting and is free to join in the fun. Brago disregards the possibility that the lunar setting might be as liberating for Ernesto as it is for Cecco and

Lisetta. If characters of the lower classes can invert their pre-determined social roles, why is that not permissible for a seria part? Granted, Ernesto does not attempt to disguise himself as a character below his earthly social standing, but he does still actively participate in the plot. Furthermore, he has a vested interest in the finto astrologo’s success.

Like the other characters, Ernesto’s earthly behavior is rigidly dictated by generic and social constraints, the moon frees him to behave however he sees fit. Yet, Brago simply sees this exchange between Buonafede and Ernesto as the impetus for allowing

Ernesto to participate in the act’s finale. For according to Brago, Ernesto has now ceased to be a seria character. In the second interpretation, the fact that a seria character might reduce himself and join in Ecclitico’s plot calls into question the status or role of seria characters in general. How are they supposed to function in the comic world? In Il mondo della luna, the seria character is not the butt of the joke. Instead, it is Buonafede, who is clearly a buffa part, who becomes the comic – and satirical – target of the entire opera.

18 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 328. 19 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 328.

182

When we first encounter Ernesto in the opening act, we know nothing about him aside from the fact the libretto establishes his character as one of the parte serie. It describes him as a cavaliere.20 If the audience had any doubts about Ernesto’s status, they disappeared the moment the character opened his mouth to sing, for the role was first played by the castrato, Pietro Gherardi.21 We soon learn that the cavaliere has asked

Buonafede for his daughter Flaminia’s hand in marriage, and that Buonafede has refused his request (interestingly enough, the characters speculate that Buonafede would prefer to marry his daughters off to princes and, within the context of the second act, only his servant gets to marry someone royal).22 In his description of the opera, Landon criticizes

Ernesto’s so-called lack of character, writing that he appears “rather unreal and un- lifelike, without flesh and blood.”23 In his brief biographical sketch of Gherardi (within the context of musical life at Eszterháza) Landon again takes aim at the supposedly flawed character of Ernesto. He writes:

But Haydn, in writing “Ernesto” for Signor Gherardi, gave us one of the most colourless personalities of all his stage works. Like Mozart, when faced with such a problem (Don Ottavio), Haydn pours out stupendously beautiful music for “Ernesto”, but the part remains cold and featureless.24

20 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 58. Hunter writes, “One way opera buffa reinforced the value of hierarchy even as it enacted the pleasures of community was simply by asserting repeatedly and with crystal clarity the fact of social stratification. This is evident even on the opening pages of the librettos of this repertory.” 21 Clark, “Mondo della luna, Il (ii).” In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, (accessed May 20, 2011). See Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 137. Hunter notes that parti serie were often played by castrati or even women. See 22 See Act I, sc. iv, no. 9, mm. 23-27. Ernesto states that “I asked Buonafede [for her hand] and he denied me.” (L’ho chiesta a Bonafede, ed ei me l’ha negate). Ecclitico responds, “He hopes to marry his daughters off to royal princes” (Spera di maritar le proprie figlie con principi d’altezza). 23 H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, Haydn At Eszterháza, 1766-1790 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 526. Landon writes that “Haydn hardly attempts any characterization of his stage figures: the plot was not destined for such treatment.” 24 Landon, Chronicle and Works, vol. 2, 58.

183

Yet, this first act characterization, this supposed “unrealness”, is all part of Haydn’s plan.

Firstly, if the lunar Ernesto-as-Hesperus must serve as representative of the anti-Ernesto

(or rather the anti-Earth Ernesto), then Haydn must utilize every seria stereotype necessary in order to show the significance of his lunar behavior. This characterization of Ernesto as little more than a stiff seria figure is necessary in order to make his actions, and really all of the characters’ actions, in the second act all the more comically worthy.

It also draws attention to the choices he makes when he disguises himself in the second act. His actions on the moon, from his costume to his musical participation, serve as a parody of the rigidity of opera seria. Yet, as we shall see, there is something more at play here. Haydn repeatedly makes references to opera seria or important tragic characters, and these references are generally associated with Ernesto. He is clearly offering some kind of commentary on the genre itself, or perhaps, the nature of eighteenth-century tragedy.

Ever the model seria character surrounded by a world of inherently immoral buffa characters, Ernesto appears to be motivated by love alone. While it can be argued that that is true of all of the male characters in the opera, Ernesto is the only character to sing a love aria in the first act, and this sets him apart even more. The other male characters choose to sing of trickery, deception, or the pleasure of extreme patriarchy. If a character’s first aria in an opera introduces the principal features of his sensibility, then

Ernesto appears to be somehow “above” the others. When compared with the other male characters, his goals seem loftier and more pure. After all, the definition of rank provided in the opening page of the libretto has enough generic connotations that the audience would have known the type of arias that he will sing (just as it establishes the behavior of

184

every character in the opera).25 If this opera is indeed a social commentary, then it makes sense that Ernesto the seria character be rigid and upright in the first act, and that he almost refrain from becoming a participant in Ecclitico’s plan. Motivated by love (or, perhaps lust), he promises Ecclitico whatever money the false astrologer might need.

After ensuring his (surprising) participation in the plot, Ernesto sings an aria that confirms his seria status and the number has little bearing on the plot as it has been established. The number, “Begli occhi vezzosi,” while beautiful, is nothing more than a love aria.26 Again returning to Landon’s analysis, this aria is an example of the

“exceptionally fine” music that Haydn writes for this stiff and Don Ottavio-like character.27 Yet, according to Hunter’s work on standard character type behavior in opera buffa, “Begli occhi vezzosi” need not – and indeed is not expected to – have any effect on the opera’s plot. In Hunter’s words, seria arias are typically “the most elevated

(though not necessarily the most dramatically important) in their operas.”28 She continues, writing that the texts of these arias “often occur quite close to the beginnings of the operas; approximately half of them are their singer’s first arias, and in this position serve to establish the character’s rank and type.”29 While Haydn does not write the aria in da capo form, he does provide Ernesto with three extended coloratura passages (see example 5.1, mm. 66-74). So although Ernesto’s first act aria has little bearing on the

25 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 59. Hunter writes that one function of the listing of ranks in the libretto is “to establish the proper range of responses to these characters.” 26 See Act I, sc. v, no. 12. The number is a triple andante grazioso complete with 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, and two horns in D. 27 Landon, Chronicle and Works, 526. According to Landon, Haydn compensates for Ernesto’s lack of worthy characterization by “writing exceptionally fine music for him, as Mozart was to do with a similarly stiff figure, Don Ottavio.” 28 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 137. See also Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 327. Brago states that all of Ernesto’s music is written in a “suitably elevated style”. 29 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 137.

185

dramatic course of the act or even of the opera as a whole, it is not out of character for either the genre as a whole or the character type who sings it. For Hunter, this type of aria tends to be rather rhetorically rigid, consisting of an “eloquence of a rather prepackaged nature” and again, Haydn’s compositional choices here only serve to further establish Ernesto’s seria character.30 First act Ernesto does nothing to contradict

Hunter’s interpretation. Writing about the function of the seria aria within the context of opera buffa, Hunter notes that the latter tends to value “quick-wittedness, flexibility, and the power of sentiment.”31 Whereas the supposed rigidity and predictability of seria arias seem to

mark the position of the characters who sing them as irrelevant---a judgment implicitly endorsed by the operas in which these arias function as the point from which the characters who sing them move toward greater fallibility and “humanity”.32

First act Ernesto embodies Hunter’s notion of pre-packaged and rigid eloquence. We know nothing about him aside for his feelings for Flaminia.

30 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 139. 31 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 139. 32 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 139

186

Example 5.1 “Begli occhi vezzosi” (mm. 66-74), Ernesto's coloratura passage

While Haydn allows Ernesto to shed a bit of his seria stiffness in the second act,

Ernesto cannot thoroughly escape the confines of his serious nature. Whereas the buffa

Cecco has no qualms about parading around as the ruler of a fake world, Ernesto still manages to align himself with seria connotations (if this were truly a reverse world

Ernesto, he would play one of Cecco’s servants in the second act rather than simply being a member of the lunar emperor’s court). Haydn is careful to make him somehow different from the other characters, to make him stand out even when he is surrounded by other

187

characters wearing ridiculous, fantastic costumes. While Ecclitico, Cecco, Buonafede, and all the lunar pages wear “jackets with wings” (Kleid mit Flügeln), Ernesto wears a unique costume. In fact, his costume was recycled and reworked from a previous

Eszterháza production – that of Orpheus from Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice.33 Upon closer inspection, we find that Ernesto shares more than a costume with this opera.

Both roles, Ernesto and Orfeo, were played by castratos. In fact, Pietro Gherardi played the role of Orpheus in the 1776 Eszterháza production of Gluck’s opera.34

Haydn’s use of the reworked Orpheus costume for the second act of Il mondo della luna cannot be mere coincidence. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, Buonafede’s “Che mondo amabile” has a slight resemblance, or at least commonality of themes, to Gluck’s

“Che puro ciel”. Recall that the similarities between these two arias bolster the idea that

Buonafede is the anti-Orpheus and therefore an anti-hero of sorts. So what is the meaning behind Haydn’s costume choice for Ernesto? Is Haydn grappling with the looming legacy of Gluck? Is he offering a commentary on the state of the dramma giocoso in the later eighteenth century? There must be some reason that Goldoni chose to align Ernesto with one tragic figure, Hesperus, and Haydn dressed him in the costume of another. Hesperus and Orpheus share a connection of their own; both experience failure as a direct result of their hubris. While traditions of Hesperus vary, most agree that he vanished suddenly from the top of a mountain that he had climbed in order to

33 Thomas, Joseph Haydn Werke, viii. “…er habe für vier Pagen je ein Kleid mit Flügeln versehen, für Jermoli (Ecclitico) und Binachi (Bonafede) je ein Kleid genäht und daran gleichfalls Flügel angebracht, für Dichtler (Cecco) ein Kleid zu einem mit Flügeln bestückten Kaisergewand geändert und für Gherardi (Ernesto) das Kleid des Orfeo (aus Glucks Opera) gänzlich umgearbeitet.” According to Clark, Gluck’s Orfeo had been performed at Eszterháza in 1776. Clark. "Mondo della luna, Il (ii)." In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, (accessed May 22, 2011). 34 Landon, Chronicle and Works, v. 2, 394. See also, Landon, 58. Pietro Gherardi was hired in February 1776 for a period of two years.

188

better see the stars. According to William King’s An historical account of the heathen gods and heroes (1750), the morning star, “the brightest in the Heavens”, was named after Hesperus in order to forever honor Atlas’ beloved and lost son.35 The story of

Hesperus’ hubris seems to be connected more to Buonafede than to Ernesto, and this classical figure’s presence in the second act is likely a subliminal message for our foolish protagonist. Like Hesperus, Buonafede is reaching beyond his means, trying to get closer to a forbidden and distant world. While Buonafede does not risk his life per se, he does ultimately lose everything after his lunar journey. At the same time, Ernesto’s use of the

Orpheus costume does give his own character more relevance. Like Orpheus, Ernesto is traveling to another world hoping to win the hand of his beloved – although, in the case of Ernesto, this other world is fake. Also, like Orpheus, he must perform in order to achieve his goal and, as the audience would have known well, he, like Hesperus, fails.

Again, while Cecco simply masquerades as the emperor of the moon, Ernesto portrays a real character from classical mythology. Surely this is no coincidence. The seria character cannot escape his classical roots. In the case of Ernesto, Brago believes that the choice of costume helps signify the character’s heroic status (and surely this is why

Brago eventually finds the character to be so ambiguous – for he is no hero here). He refers to Ernesto’s costume as the satirical visual underlining of the character’s seria

35 King, William. An historical account of the heathen gods and heroes; necessary for the understanding of the ancient poets: being an improvement of whatever has been hitherto written, by the Greek, Latin, French, and English Authors, upon that subject. By Dr. King. London, 1750. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Brandeis University. 24 May 2011 .

189

status.36 Without any further explanation, Brago sees this as a parody and one that most of the audience would have understood.37

While Ernesto grapples with potentially lowering himself simply through participating in this plot, the servant Lisetta faces a different problem. She is given the option of raising her social status beyond almost any other characters in the opera.

Lisetta’s lunar performance is perhaps the most compelling of all of the characters’ performances during this act. While the other characters’ performances are obvious – either through the assumption of a literal disguise or because they, as in the case of

Ecclitico, reveal their plans directly to the audience – it is surprisingly difficult to read

Lisetta’s behavior in the second act. Lisetta becomes an interesting case study for watching a character engage in a rather complicated performance as she walks a fine line between conspirator and unknowing victim. Even at the act’s conclusion, it is impossible to determine whether or not she believes that she is on the moon. While it appears as though she immediately realizes that, like her master, she is the victim of an elaborate scam, Lisetta at least pretends to be complicit in the plot. There is a layer of ambiguity to her entire performance in this act and, although it is clear that she is not inclined to believe anything that she is told upon her arrival on the moon, we are never quite sure if she is only continuing to pretend to believe that she is on the moon or if she actually begins to believe that she is possibly participating in life within a lunar imperial court. If

36 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 326. Brago writes, “The heroic aspect was carred to the point of caricature in Haydn’s opera, where Ernesto was assigned the costume of Orpheus from Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, while the other male characters wore jackets with wings attached.” 37 Brago, “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il mondo della luna,” 327. “This parody would not have been lost on the audience, many of whom had attended the performance of Gluck’s masterpiece under Haydn’s direction at Esterháza in the preceding year.”

190

the former is actually true, it adds a layer of complexity to her performance that we do not see in the other characters.

Unlike Buonafede’s own daughters, Lisetta is not complicit in the plan to trick her master and becomes just as much of a victim of Ecclitico, Ernesto, and Cecco’s whims as

Buonafede does (for their father’s sake, Buonafede’s daughters pretend not to know what is going on, but at the act’s opening, Ecclitico assured Ernesto that he had explained everything to them. They simply feign ignorance to avoid angering their father.) Lisetta, however, ultimately fares much better than her master. Furthermore, although she arrives on the moon without a literal disguise, it becomes clear that perhaps her entire existence is that of an idiosyncratic disguise. While we never see Buonafede express a single doubt as he is dressed in a fantastic costume and greeted by people who look rather familiar to him, Lisetta’s lunar interactions are quite different. Despite the fact that we ultimately watch her assume the role of emperor’s wife by the act’s conclusion, her aria, “Se lo comanda” (Act II, sc. x, 42b-42c), makes her performance clear. While Lisetta gives us every impression that she is a confident and assertive woman, afraid of no one, her reaction to the proposal indicates that our initial impression of her is inaccurate. We now see that her assertive confidence is her real disguise and deep down inside, she is just as unsure of herself as any other character might be. While she ultimately allows herself to be crowned empress during the coronation/wedding at the act’s conclusion, her performance of “Se lo comanda” gives us a brief glance beneath the façade of self- confidence that she wears so well in every other scene. For once, she is at a loss for words.

191

When we first encounter her in Act I, sc. ix, Lisetta gives us the impression that she is nothing more than the stereotypical sassy, all-knowing buffa maid. She does not fear the repercussions of speaking her mind, either to her master or the audience, despite her social status as a servant. During her first scene, she says whatever is required to appease her master, Buonafede, while making expected sarcastic asides to the audience.

When Buonafede bids her farewell, informing her that he will be leaving for the moon, she pretends to believe him, but clearly does not.38 The number that follows this recitative exchange, “Una donna come me no vi fu,” further establishes her character as one that does what is required of her without malice or at the expense of her virtue.39 As

Hunter notes, “the characteristic stance of the singer of the serva/contadina aria is insouciance, coupled with both an acute awareness and an astute summing-up of her audience (often with the intention of teasing, deceiving, or manipulating them.”40 As to be expected of this genre, it is clear that Lisetta often has the upper hand in her relationship with Buonafede, despite her status as a servant. It certainly helps that her master is madly in love with her. While Lisetta does nothing to challenge the stereotype associated with her generic role, we get our most genuine glimpse of her in action during the first act finale. It is clear that, despite everything she has said to the audience, that she actually does care for her master.

38 See Act I, sc. ix (no. 19). 39 The text of the aria is “Una donna come me non vi fu, né vi sarà; io son tutt; amor e fé, io son tutta carità. Domandate a chi lo sa. ‘Sì, ch’è vero’, ognun dirà. Io maliczia in sen non ho: Sono stata ognor così. Poche volte dico no; quando posso, dico sì. Ma lo dico, già sis a, salva sempre l’onestà.” “There is no woman like me, nor will there ever be; I am loving and faithful, I am full of charity. Ask anyone who knows me. ‘Yes, that’s true,’ they will tell you. There is no malice in my breast: I have always been this way. Sometimes I say no when I could say yes, but never at the expense of my virtue.” 40 See Act I, sc. ix (no. 20). Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 127.

192

Lisetta is the first of Buonafede’s requested visitors to make an appearance on the moon and she arrives in Act II, sc. viii. As I have already mentioned, Ecclitico chooses not to tell her about the plot against her master, and his men abduct her from her bed and drag her to his garden blindfolded.41 Despite her disorientation, she is unwilling to believe Ecclitico’s claim that she is on the moon, responding, “Ha, ha, you make me laugh; I am not a child to believe in such nonsense.”42 She begins to soften when she encounters her master, perhaps out of a fondness for the old fool, but is again quick to see through Cecco’s imperial disguise in sc. x.43 Buonafede makes a big fuss about introducing her to the emperor and she immediately greets the emperor as Cecco. “Oh!

What do I see? Cecco is the emperor?”44 Her ability to quickly see through Ecclitico’s trick is wholly in line with her role as the sassy and observant buffa servant. While she does not believe that Cecco is emperor of anything, it does not take much for him to convince her to take the throne and become his empress. Despite stating that she believes nothing and doubts everything, Lisetta appears to confidently make her way to the throne and to accepting Cecco’s hand.45 Yet, the aria and accompanied recitative that follow her initial interaction with Cecco-as-emperor demand further investigation because we are watching her actually grapple with her public-facing role throughout the number – should she allow us to see her doubts, or should she continue as the all-knowing, fearless servant? We are watching her in the throes of a spontaneous performance. Her entire

41 See Act II, sc. viii (no. 40), mm. 10-16. 42 Act II, sc. viii (no. 40), mm. 20-24. “Ah, ah, mi fate ridere; non sono una bambina da credere a si fatte scioccherie.” 43 See Act II, sc. ix (40), mm. 48-112. Buonafede tries to convince Lisetta to marry him. She is willing to accept the possibility that she has been brought to the moon on a cloud, but she refuses to yield to her master’s matrimonial desires. 44 See Act II, sc. x (42a), mm. 8-9. “Oh! cosa vedo? Cecco è l’imperatore?” 45 See Act II, sc. x (42a), mm. 29-30.

193

terrestrial existence is routine, doing her master’s bidding and fending off his amorous advances. Here she is presented with a new opportunity, one for which she is rather unprepared. For the first time in the opera, she is unsure about what to do next, or at least she wants both the audience and the other characters to believe as much. While she acts in a way that leads the other characters – and the audience – to believe that she has not a single doubt, her performance of the following number betrays a certain fragility.

Lisetta’s performance of “Se lo comanda,” is multi-faceted. Throughout the number she shifts from an external performance, for the benefit of the characters around her, to an internal performance that expresses her doubts and insecurities. It is not clear whether or not this shifting back and forth is part of some kind of manipulative ploy.

Rather, this aspect of the aria makes her reaction seem all the more genuine. At first glance, we can tell that her behavior, her inability to actually make a decision, is a far cry from the self-assured Lisetta that we first encountered at the opera’s beginning. While her aria in the first act indicated her belief she took orders from no one, here her aria begins with a reaction to a command. Unlike her daily interactions with her master, she actually takes Cecco’s proposal seriously, for choosing to follow it, whether or not the moonscape she sees is real, would irrevocably change her life. While the aria does not veer towards an overexcited buffa reaction, we are suddenly witnesses to a whirlwind of emotions while she thinks out loud (for the benefit of the audience). Over the course of the number, she awaits the approval of her master, briefly believes that she might actually be an empress, doubts all that she is told, and ultimately, warily, accepts Cecco’s proposal. Every time she seems to have convinced herself, either one way or the other, she hesitates and falls victim to self-doubt. Her initial response, a surprisingly timid

194

hesitance, is perhaps the most genuine aspect of her reaction. For once, she has been caught without a witty response that will put her superior in his or her place. While she never officially states that she is in disbelief, and while she ultimately accepts Cecco’s proposal, her performance makes her wariness clear. She will go along with the hoax without ever letting any of us know if she actually believes what is occurring around her.

We are again witnessing a meta-performance in which, regardless of her true feelings, she at least convinces those around her that she believes that she can – and will – be empress of the moon.

The aria begins with an accompanied recitative (no. 42) in which Lisetta tries three times to complete a sentence that will, that can, express her reaction to Cecco’s request. This hesitance comes as quite a surprise for, just a few measures before, she accepted Cecco’s proposal without hesitating. Judging from her initial wavering, it is likely that her willingness to accept Cecco’s proposal was done just for show and as a way to fend off her master’s never-ending advances. Again, she does one thing for show

– accepting a proposal, for example – and then realizes that she will have to live with the consequences. For once, she is at a complete loss for words. The orchestra interjects with dotted sixteenth notes, almost reminiscent of a French overture style motive, between each of her unfinished sentences, as though hinting at future imperial entrances, before she can finally state that she does not understand what Cecco is telling her.46 This is not the self-assured Lisetta that we have encountered throughout the opera. She actually seems quite scared and begins the aria that follows rather cautiously.

46 Act II, sc. x, no. 42b, mm. 57-58. “Non so quell che mi dica.”

195

The accompanied recitative cadences directly into her aria and “Se lo comanda” begins without any opening ritornello. The orchestral forces are the same in both – 2 oboes, 2 horns in G, and strings. The number is a duple andante in G-major. The number itself is divided into motivic areas that accompany the whirlwind of emotions that Lisetta feels as she works through her reaction to the proposal (the aria is an ABA form with a 6/8 presto forming the B section). Lisetta begins, stuttering “Se lo comanda” accompanied by the first violins, picking up the dotted sixteenth note motive of the orchestral interjections heard in the recitative (now reduced to dotted eighth notes).

Again, it is difficult to interpret this stuttering. Is this the real Lisetta struggling with a major life decision? Or is this the servant Lisetta feigning indecision for the benefit of her master? Haydn does not provide us with any clues just yet. After twice stating that she will do as she is told, the horns enter and the strings deviate from doubling her (m.

66). As she asks Buonafede how this could possibly be her new reality (“Master, how will this/can this be?”/Signor padrone, cosa sarà?), the aria shifts from the tonic of G- major to the dominant (this section is clearly a bridge to the next motivic area). The oboe entrance in measure 68, in addition to the obvious move to the dominant, both indicate that she is slowly gaining confidence. This section closes with three dominant chords in measure 72. Although Lisetta is still expressing doubt, the orchestral accompaniment and shift to the dominant makes it clear that she is shifting from her external performance of doubt to an expression of her inner confidence (see example 5.2, mm. 66-72).

196

Example 5.2 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 66-72), Lisetta's doubt

197

Example 5.2 continued

The next section of the aria begins in measure 74, with Lisetta spelling out a rising dominant triad on the word “imperatrice”. Despite the fact that this phrase is actually a question, it sounds as though Lisetta has already accepted the possibility of rising to a new station (“Imperatrice dunque sarò?” Shall I be an empress?). Gone are the dotted rhythms and Lisetta’s hesitance. We have clearly shifted away from her public performance, for the sake of the other characters, to one that shall benefit the audience alone – one that indicates her innermost thoughts and desires. Even her expression of sincere doubt is more assertive than the public one that we just heard. The orchestra interjects at the end of measure 76, assuring us that she has no doubts about what she is going to do. As she slowly comes to grips with this possibility, she repeats the motive of

198

the orchestral interjection but betrays a momentary wavering of confidence as she wishes that this were true (see example 5.3, mm. 78-82). Lisetta repeats this wish twice before finally cadencing on V/V in measure 85 (on the word “truth”).

Example 5.3 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 78-82), Lisetta's momentary lapse in confidence

199

Example 5.3 continued

As Lisetta’s heart is filled with “noble thoughts”, the aria shifts to a new thematic area (m. 86) as she sings, “In my heart I feel a warmth that fills me with noble thoughts”

(“Sento nel core certo vapore che m’empie tutta di nobiltà”). The orchestra interjects with eighth notes between each phrase as her excitement builds. The aria remains in the dominant area, the key that seems to connote Lisetta’s inner monologue. She then launches into six measures of coloratura as though she is now officially a seria character and no longer simply a buffa maid. This coloratura elaboration occurs, unsurprisingly, on the word “nobility”. The orchestral accompaniment builds in intensity throughout this section, finally closing with three D-major chords in measure 109.

200

The dominant cadence in measure 109 closes the A section and we enter the B section in measure 110. While the aria remains in the dominant, both the meter and tempo change in measure 110, from the duple andante to a presto 6/8, as Lisetta fantasizes about how wonderful it would be to be a real lady. The sudden textual, metrical, and tempo changes indicate that she has now returned back to her public performance mode, even though the dominant key area indicates that she is still straddling the line between private monologue and public performance. Now she would be able to command both service and love, as her master has done of her (mm. 115). The orchestra interjects with assertive statements of rising D-major triads in between each of her phrases. The desires that she expresses seem perfectly suited to a buffa maid faced with a rise in social station. She has now shifted from her role as terrestrial maid to that of lunar empress. What follows assures us that Lisetta might be the most gifted performer in the entire cast. After loudly celebrating the possibility of being able to command things from others, she suddenly shifts to a minor area in measure 115 (at least initially a g-minor area). It appears that her confidence is beginning to falter and she now assumes that she is being mocked, that she is nothing more than a joke to other characters. Gone are the imperial sounding horns and oboes as she gets heatedly excited

(see example 5.4, mm. 115-131). She again appears to regain her confidence in measure

134 as she states that she is willing to try, willing to attempt to be an empress, but her inability to leave the minor area indicates that she is still performing. She needs to know how things will turn out before she can make a decision (mm. 134-140, “I am willing to try, how will it be?”/ “Voglio provarmi, cosa sarà?”). The section closes despite the fact

201

that Lisetta is still, wavering between wishing this could be true and believing that the other characters are out to get her, out to make a joke of her (mm. 143-155).

Example 5.4 “Se lo comanda” (mm. 115-131), Lisetta's excitement

202

Example 5.4 continued

203

Example 5.4 continued

Lisetta’s performance is clear upon the return of the A section (and duple andante), as she skips the opening text opting instead to appease her master and ask his advice yet again. Although she asks the same question that she did in measure 74, her confidence and decision are now clear. In fact, the orchestral accompaniment has changed and she no longer sings in the dominant. She even repeats the question twice, now seeming much more like a statement of fact. This time, she does not wish it to be true, skipping over the section from mm. 78-85, instead immediately feeling the warmth of noble thoughts in her heart (mm. 169-176). She must be careful not to get too publicly excited and remembers her audience, expressing one final moment of doubt in

204

measure 191 before allowing Cecco to command her to the throne. She closes meekly, accepting his command.

Lisetta’s performance is a complex, multi-layered one, but the same cannot be said of Cecco’s. While part of the comic thrust of Cecco’s presence in this act surely stems from his grand and overly exaggerated imperial entrance in scene v, the rest certainly lies in the fact that Cecco, a servant, now gets to parade around the stage ordering the other characters around.47 This lunar reversal of roles in which a servant becomes master of every one around him helps to contribute to the so-called topsy-turvy feel of the moon. Cecco, like Lisetta, expresses great confidence and self-assuredness in the first act, but is now free to do so publicly rather than simply reveal his innermost thoughts through parenthetical asides to the audience. In fact, Cecco’s first act aria, “Mi fanno ridere” serves as a commentary for what will ultimately occur in the second act.

The text of the aria perfectly describes Buonafede:

Mi fanno ridere, quelli che credono che quell che vedono sia verità. Non sanno i semplici che tutti fingono: che il vero tingono di falsità.

They make me laugh, those who believe that all they see is true. The simpletons do not know that everyone pretends: that everyone colors the truth with falsehood.

It certainly foreshadows Buonafede’s gullibility. Again, the buffa servant proves to know more than his social superiors. Buonafede will believe everything and Cecco the servant will be permitted, socially, to laugh at his foolishness.

Cecco’s imperial aria, “Un avaro suda e pena” (Act II, sc. v), builds on the same ideas expressed in “Mi fanno ridere” while also indicating that the moon is somehow better than earth. Using the supposedly great differences between lunar and terrestrial

47 Cecco also gets to mock Buonafede openly. In the Act II, sc. v recitative (mm. 51-52), Cecco refers to the people of earth as the “crazy people of the sublunar world” (“Oh, gente pazza del mondo sublunar!”)

205

life as a pretense, “Un avaro suda e pena” is essentially Cecco’s chance to provide yet another commentary, this time social, on the absurdity of people in general – the primary message of the aria being that no one is ever happy with what they have, and that such dissatisfaction is crazy.48 Again, earthly servant Cecco would not have been permitted to sing such an aria on his home planet. Yet, within the context of his role as lunar emperor, he can say and do what he pleases. Surely, his lunar existence is far better than his earthly one and the ease with which he can now speak his mind certainly helps to enforce the feeling that the moon is the anti-earth. Although an earthly buffa servant would not have been able to sing such an aria to his social superiors, no seria emperor would sing such an openly satirical aria either. The aria itself fails to live up to the generic conventions of a seria aria and instead falls under the rubric of the typical buffa list aria.49

The text has no real substance; it is just a list of behaviors that Cecco finds bizarre about earthly behavior. The aria does begin with the dotted rhythms of Cecco’s imperial march, but Cecco is too concerned with his newfound ability to speak his mind to stay within what should have been his seria confines. Cecco the buffa stock character cannot imitate (or confine himself) to the stiff rigidity of a seria character. While Hunter is writing about the actual role of the seria aria within opera buffa, her interpretation is also appropriate within the context of a buffa character trying to appropriate seria language.

48 The text of the aria is: “Un avaro suda e pena, e poi crepa e se neva. Un superbo senza cena vuol rispetto, e pan non ha. Un geloso è tormentato, un corrente è criticato. Quasi tutti al vostro mondo siete pazzi in verità. Chi sospira per amore, chi delira per furore, chi sta bene e vuol star male, chi ha gran fumo e poco sale; al rovescio tutto va./A miser sweats and strains and later dies and disappears. A proud man without means wants respect and has no bread. A jealous man is in torment, an ambitious man is criticized. Almost everyone in your world is truly crazy. One sighs for love, one rages in fury, he who is will and wants to be poorly, one is all smoke and no fire; everything is backwards.” 49 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 124. Hunter writes, “Another way in which the singers of buffa arias demonstrate their over-involvement with their subject matter is in their construction of lists, or catalogues…These catalogues provide many opportunities for lively and comically unselfconscious re-enactment.”

206

If the seria aria supposedly marks serious characters as rigid, predictable, and irrelevant, it makes sense that a comic character would not be able to sing in such a manner.50

Ultimately, he cannot keep himself from launching into comic patter as he gets more and more carried away. While the commentary is certainly biting, it removes the possibility of Cecco being perceived as anything but a buffa servant. Cecco can now insult

Buonafede without any ramifications now that he is emperor in this disguised world.

The fact that Cecco’s aria cannot be mistaken for a seria one makes Buonafede seem even more ridiculous. Or, perhaps the incongruity of the aria paired with the imperial march provides further evidence that the orchestral interludes in this act are indeed products of Buonafede’s fantastic imagination. Furthermore, these characters, at least the buffa characters, are playing their parts blind. Again, how can you imitate something which has no basis in reality? If Cecco were imitating an earthly emperor, perhaps Haydn would have composed an aria full of the standard seria tropes. However,

Cecco is free to play the role of lunar emperor however he sees fit; he need not try to imitate any kind of standard generic conventions. The aria does at least give hints that the character is trying to reference a known imperial style, despite the fact that he cannot quite achieve it.

Despite all of the fantastic and unbelievable events that constantly confront

Buonafede throughout the act, he proceeds to its conclusion, Lisetta’s coronation as lunar empress, undeterred. He hopes that Lisetta might change her mind and marry him instead of the emperor, but he still believes that he is on the moon and about to witness an elaborate lunar ceremony. Throughout the course of the first section of the finale, he

50 Hunter, The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, 139.

207

becomes increasingly enamored of the lunar language and this foreign people’s customs and soon tries to imitate their language, so great is his desire to become a lunar gentleman. All of the characters work together against Buonafede with the exception of

Lisetta. She is unsure as to the verity of what is about to occur and, during the recitative that comes directly before the finale, she states that she feels like the “empress of pasteboard” (imperatrice di cartone). Yet, even Lisetta goes along with the farce because she is desperate to marry someone other than her lecherous master.

While Lisetta’s coronation, complete with fake lunatic invocations in nonsense vocables, is certainly played for the utmost comic effect, that is not the section that concerns us here. It should come as no surprise that Buonafede remains in complete awe of the faux ceremony that he is witnessing, occasionally expressing the desire to understand the language that these people are speaking. He still believes everything as his daughters begin to speak lunatic nonsense as well. His faith cannot be shaken and, instead of expressing the kind of doubt that any rational character might, he instead expresses a strong desire to become a lunar gentleman. And yes, this is all incredibly humorous. Yet, we are concerned with a few specific sections – those that refer to the meta- and performative aspects of this act. Surprisingly, it is these few fleeting references to the comedy of the hoax that arouse the foolish protagonist’s suspicions.

The finale itself is divided into four distinct sections. In the first, measures 1-45,

Ecclitico and Ernesto pay homage to Cecco and then ask permission to marry

Buonafede’s daughters. The scene changes during this section when Buonafede’s daughters enter and, in turn, pay fake tribute to the imperial couple (mm. 32-39). The second section begins in measure 46 as Cecco silences his audience and quickly performs

208

the coronation of his bride. As I have already mentioned, Buonafede watches this unfold in complete awe, occasionally trying to interject in what he believes to be lunatic.

Realizing that time is of the essence here, this section shifts from the opening section’s moderato in 4/4 to a duple allegro. After successfully “crowning” Lisetta, Cecco asks

Buonafede for a dowry for Flaminia and Clarice (mm. 128-136) and our fool gladly gives the emperor the keys to his coffer. It is in this section that Ernesto, Cecco, and Ecclitico make their first meta-theatrical comment as an aside both to each other and the audience.

In mm. 172-181, they sing, “Il più bel punto è questo la scena a terminar.” (This is now the time to end this scene). They know that they must act quickly and Haydn complies with their demands, quickly ending this section of the finale. Buonafede takes no notice of this abrupt end.

The third section begins in measure 182 as the finale shifts to 3/8 and Cecco quickly performs the remaining two wedding ceremonies. Again, believing that they have been successful, the men make another meta-theatrical statement here. However, they do not bother making it as an aside this time. In measure 221 they sing, “Finita è la commedia.” (The comedy has ended) and the women join in to sing to their respective spouses. Yet, Buonafede has caught them. While he has missed every other cue that everything that he has encountered thus far has been a farce, he fixates on the word

“commedia” in measure 237 and the men must now try to calm him as they enter section

4. Suddenly, and a bit too quickly for that matter, Buonafede has recognized the hoax, and he begins to insult the other characters one by one. Yet, it is too late. The damage has been done. He has given away his money, his daughters, and his beloved servant all in the belief that these actions would have helped him to become a lunar (and likely a

209

seria gentleman). Like Hesperus and Orpheus, Buonafede is doomed to fail here. His hubris aside, the strictures of opera buffa will not permit him to rise above his social station and, despite the farcical nature of the second act, it is simply not possible for him to become anything other than a buffa character. Here the performers triumph and our protagonist must simply try to come to terms with the disappointing outcome of the second act.

Haydn’s Il mondo della luna represents the most sophisticated approach to disguise and deception that we have seen in all of the operas that I have examined and yet, Haydn is building off of techniques that he experimented with in the previous operas rather than starting anew. As I showed in chapter four, he gives the orchestra a greater role in the opera than we have seen before. While the orchestra occasionally laughed knowingly with or at characters in the other operas, here it is wholly complicit.

Additionally, while Haydn utilized particular seria techniques to mock ignorant characters in the previous operas, here he builds an entire self-referential complex of seria and classical tropes that satirize Buonafede rather than the characters who employ these idiosyncratic seria disguises. Again, it is the foolish protagonist’s lack of self- awareness that ultimately leads to his failure, but here Haydn employs a richer and more sophisticated method of foreshadowing Buonafede’s downfall.

210

CONCLUSION

At first glance, La canterina, Lo speziale, L’incontro improvviso, and Il mondo della luna seem to have little in common, but my analysis of the wide array of deceitful behaviors that fall under the larger rubric of meta-performances proves otherwise. With the exception of L’incontro improvviso, the works tend to treat the same themes, or at least the same character types, in the same ways.1 While this study began as an investigation of how Haydn musically represents moments of deception and disguise in his comic operas—with the presumption that Haydn was somehow an outlier to the mid- to late eighteenth-century operatic tradition—it matured into a monograph on the importance of self-awareness and self-possession in Haydn’s operatic aesthetic.2 My analysis of the various moments of disguise and deceit has changed our view of Haydn as a musical dramatist. That a comic opera should have some kind of moral lesson is not surprising, since these works were often satirical in nature and frequently offered incisive commentary on contemporary society, but the psychological depth of the characters, and the imaginative musical portrayal of these instances of deceit, was far greater than I had anticipated.

1 L’incontro improvviso is the only work whose protagonist is not a buffa fool and whose primary deceiver is well aware of his own fraudulent lifestyle. 2 Charles Rosen, The Classical Style: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1972), 119. Rosen writes, “Haydn was not a successful writer of opera, comic or serious; his musical thought was too small-scale---or, if one prefers a gentler word, too concentrated. But he learned from comic opera, not freedom of form---he never needed to be taught that---but freedom in the service of dramatic significance. When the words in a libretto denied his musical ideas their implied development and balance, he invented new ways to restore both.”

211

These operas preach the importance of honesty, but it is a unique and unexpected kind of honesty. Having approached the works chronologically, I first believed that Don

Pelagio was punished because he was, in many ways, an imposter. Yes, he proved himself to be rather ignorant of his own imposter status, but nevertheless, I argued that he warranted punishment (from Haydn’s point of view) because he was pretending to be something that he was not. Yet, Gasparina and Apollonia are surely imposters as well and they were not punished. The same tension between acceptable and unacceptable pretense can be found in all of the works – even in the seeming outlier, L’incontro improvviso. These works show that it is not being an imposter that necessitates your downfall. It does not matter if you lie to those around you, if you engage in deceitful games, as long as you are aware of your own limitations. The characters that fail are those who cross the boundaries of their own capabilities and, in doing so, fail to know their true selves. Here is where the Calender of L’incontro improvviso fits in. He clearly knows himself as well as his own limitations, but his final attempt of trickery, that of turning in the escaped reunited lovers in exchange for the Sultan’s reward, ends up being his own downfall. It is one thing to lead a deceitful lifestyle, occasionally swindling people on the street, but selling your so-called friends for a large sum of money when you are promising to help them is another.

La canterina, Lo speziale, and Il mondo della luna each share the same type of comic protagonist – that of the old fool who is completely unaware of what is going on around him. Of course opera buffa, often featured the same generic character types. At first glance, these men have seemingly little in common. Furthermore, none of the men even appear to be openly involved in any kind of disguise or deceit. But it is their own

212

obliviousness that masks their own identities from themselves. They are not disguised from the other characters in the operas, for those characters are keenly aware of the shortcomings of these foolish men. Rather, these characters manage to mask their own identities from themselves. While these men are surrounded by characters who don both literal and idiosyncratic disguises, they in fact turn out to be the central disguised character in their respective operas.

In Don Pelagio’s case, he fancies himself to be a successful and talented composer, but proves himself to be rather out of touch with musical trends. As I note in chapter one, he makes a worthy attempt to pass himself off as a successful opera composer, but his composition suffers from both the distraction of his unrequited love for his student as well as his dated musical references. He is so consumed with his musical career that he is completely unaware of the devious machinations that are occurring under his roof. But at the opera’s conclusion, we get the feeling that Don Pelagio has not learned his lesson and that nothing in his life or household will change.

Sempronio’s fascination with exotic facts and random trivia also makes him a susceptible victim of trickery; his pseudo-knowledge masks his own ignorance from himself. Like Don Pelagio, Sempronio does not appear to have learned his lesson at the conclusion of his opera either. He knows that he has lost his chances of marrying

Grilletta, and he knows that Mengone and Volpino are not Turks, but it is clear that his daily existence is unlikely to change.

Buonafede is an oblivious dreamer just like Don Pelagio and Sempronio before him. In fact, his character proves to be a composite of the other men’s worst traits. Like

Sempronio, he longs to visit another world which he believes is far superior (and more

213

interesting) than the one in which he lives. Like Don Pelagio and, in a way, Sempronio, too, his blown-up notion of self-worth allows the other characters to carry out their plan against him. Just as Sempronio believes himself important enough to be summoned by a

Turkish king to help a foreign country recover from the plague, Buonafede believes that he somehow merits an audience with the lunar emperor. Again, both men fail, and unlike

Don Pelagio, they both see the objects of their romantic desires paired off with one of their rivals.

As I noted in chapters four and five, Il mondo della luna features an act of disguise and deception that is of a grander scale than anything we encounter in the other operas – this work features a world in disguise. The characters who attempt to pull off this hoax need not do a whole lot to convince Buonafede that he has traveled to the moon when, in fact, he is actually in Ecclitico’s garden. That the characters are able to so successfully disguise a terrestrial garden as the moon is enabled by the wishful thinking of Buonafede. His belief that he has journeyed to a new world gives him a heightened awareness of everything around him – the singing birds and the murmuring breezes – and, while most of the natural phenomena that he encounters is not distinctively “lunar”, he never once doubts that his journey has been successful. Here Haydn does something that he has not done in the other operas, he attempts to disguise a world. But this disguise is not meant to fool the audience. Rather, we know full well about Ecclitico’s hoax, and

Haydn instead disguises the world for Buonafede’s eyes and ears alone. He allows us to experience the moon though Buonafede’s ears and to share in his experience while seeing through it.

214

Buonafede’s romantic perception of lunar civilization masks the reality of his surroundings from himself. He simply cannot believe that he is anywhere else. In this respect, his behavior may be contrasted with that of Ali in L’incontro improvviso. When he encounters his servant Osmin trying to masquerade as a dervish, he immediately sees through Osmin’s disguise. Ali has no romantic perception of dervishes, nothing that would keep him from seeing through such a charade, whereas Buonafede’s desire to see the moon, having been so built up and nurtured by Ecclitico in the first act, cannot be tempered. Again, many of the lunar musical moments that we encounter seem dramatically incongruous at first, but close analysis of the web of musical references, pseudo-quotations, and tonal planning indicate that Haydn has created a complex musical disguise that again ensures that the lesson of the opera shines through – know yourself.

Musically, Haydn utilizes similar techniques in each of the operas to indicate that a meta-performance is occurring, and satirically he appears to target the same ideas time and again. Even the most mischievous dissembler is musically portrayed with great psychological depth. Yet, this depth can be subtle, revealing itself primarily through close analysis. More often than not, these disguised characters stick to standard tropes within the genre, as though they are well aware of its conventions. We can imagine these characters attending operas within the context of their fictional operatic worlds and taking notes. This adherence to standard tropes, albeit with a few rhetorical inconsistencies, adds yet another layer of complexity and performance to the already self-conscious aspect of meta-performance. These characters, especially the female ones who are attempting to thwart a romantic advance, know how an operatic character should behave in a given situation, and their knowledge of the repertoire is uncanny. With the exception

215

of La canterina’s Apollonia, female deceivers are musically relegated to the pseudo-seria and sentimental realms. While these women are keenly aware of their own deceptive abilities, Haydn’s reliance on particular tropes indicates a greater distrust of the sentimental heroine than we would expect, as though warning us to beware of women who musically tug at your heartstrings with musical tales of pity and woe. Grilletta and

Gasparina both use these techniques to the best of their abilities in their respective arias and each proves relatively successful.

La canterina, Lo speziale, L’incontro improvviso, and Il mondo della luna each provides its own social commentary, its own overarching moral lesson ranging from the veiled anti-monasticism of L’incontro improvviso, to the distrust of actors and the theatrical world in La canterina. Again, as I have already noted, these social commentaries and satires should not surprise us. My analysis has shown that Haydn makes sure to portray every character with a level of psychological depth and complexity, primarily through their self-conscious usage of standard – and occasionally unexpected – generic musical tropes as they see fit. Such a level of complexity is rarely attributed to

Haydn’s dramatic works, but this dissertation has shown that the time has come to re- evaluate Haydn’s stage works, leaving the pre-conceived notions of dramatic failures and incongruities behind. This dissertation represents a first step towards a more sensitive critical assessment of these operas. While it is not my intention to “rescue” Haydn’s operas from obscurity in order to force them into the canon, I think a more nuanced recognition of his adherence to standard operatic conventions will allow us to see more than the “disappointing doppelgänger to the father of the symphony and string quartet.”1

1 Rebecca Green, “Representing the Aristocracy: The Operatic Haydn and Le pescatrici,” in Haydn and His World, ed. Elaine Sisman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 154.

216

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary Sources

Campbell, R. The london tradesman. Being an historical account of all the trades, professions, arts, both Liberal and Mechanic, now practised in the Cities of London and Westminster…The third edition. By R. Campbell, Esq.... London, MDCCLVII. [1757]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&type= multipage&tabID=T001&prodId=ECCO&docId=CW104198175&source=gale& userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0&docLevel=FASCIMILE, 63.

Chambers, Ephraim. Cyclopædia: or, an universal dictionary of arts and sciences; ... By E. Chambers, F.R.S. The fourth edition, corrected and amended; with some additions. In two volumes. ...Volume 2. London, [1741]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. .

Encyclopædia Britannica; or, a dictionary of arts and sciences, compiled upon a new plan. ... Illustrated with one hundred and sixty copperplates. By a Society of gentlemen in Scotland. In three volumes....Volume 2. Edinburgh, [1771]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/infomark.do?&contentSet=ECCOArticles&type= multipage&tabID=T001&prodId=ECCO&docId=CW126042247&source=gale& userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0&docLevel=FASCIMILE.

Encyclopedie Françoise, Latine et Angloise, ou dictionnaire universel des arts et des sciences, Francois, Latin et Anglois, Contenant La signification et l'explication de tous les mots de ces trois Langues, & de tous les termes relatifs aux Arts & aux Sciences. Tome premier A-K. Vol. Volume 2. Londres [i.e. Lyons?], M.DCC.LXI. [1761]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. .

217

Gassmann, Florian Leopold. L’opera seria. With an introduction by Eric Weimar. New York: Garland Publishing, Inc, 1982.

Goldoni, Carlo. Lo speziale, the apothecary, a comic opera; as perform'd at the King's- Theatre in the Hay-Market. The music of the first act by Signor Pallavicini: the second and third by Signor Fischietti. London, [1769]. Eighteenth Century Collections Online .

Haydn, Joseph. Joseph Haydn Werke, ed. Dénes Bartha. Series 25, vol. 2, La Canterina. Munich-Duisburg: G. Henle Verlag, 1959.

———. Joseph Haydn Werke, ed. Helmut Wirth. Series 25, vol. 3, Lo Speziale. Munich-Duisburg: G. Henle Verlag, 1959.

———. Joseph Haydn Werke, ed. Helmut Wirth. Series 25, vol. 6, L’Incontro Improvviso. Munich-Duisburg: G. Henle Verlag, 1962.

———. Joseph Haydn Werke, ed. Günter Thomas. Series 25, vol. 7, Il Mondo Della Luna. Munich-Duisburg: G. Henle Verlag, 1979.

;8$7,,-$)4#(0?$07$4#(2)(>@:$0.$."#$A,/<@7$!"#0.(#$,/$."#$B01C$ $ 50(D#.4!(#'%#'4!NHKDKO/!E,<".##/."$F#/.6(1$F)88#-.,)/7$3/8,/#/!! ! .

King, William. An historical account of the heathen gods and heroes; necessary for the understanding of the ancient poets: being an improvement of whatever has been hitherto written, by the Greek, Latin, French, and English Authors, upon that subject. By Dr. King. London, 1750. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. .

218

Sulivan, Richard Joseph, Sir. Philosophical rhapsodies. Fragments of Akbur of Betlis. Containing reflections on the laws, manners, customs and religions, of certain Asiatic, Afric, and European nations. ... By Richard Joseph Sulivan, Esq. In three volumes.... Volume 2. London, 1784-85. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. http://find.galegroup.com.resources.library.brandeis.edu/ecco/infomark.do?&cont entSet=ECCOArticles&type=multipage&tabID=T001&prodId=ECCO&docId=C W3304243507&source=gale&userGroupName=mlin_m_brandeis&version=1.0& docLevel=FASCIMILE, 337.

Piccinni, Niccolò. La cantarina: intermezzo im III. Akt der commedia per musica L’Origille, 1760. With a foreword by Georg Feder. Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 1989.

Secondary Sources

Abbate, Carolyn. “Mahler’s Deafness: Opera and the Scene of Narration in Todtenfeier.” In Unsung Voices: Opera and Musical Narrative in the Nineteenth Century. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991.

———. In Search of Opera. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.

Abert, Anna Amalie. “Haydn Und Gluck Auf Der Opernbühne.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 296-302. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Allanbrook, Wye Jamison. Rhythmic Gesture in Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro & Don Giovanni. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983.

Al-Taee, Nasser. “Whirling Fanatics: Orientalism, Politics, and Religious Rivalry in Western Operatic Representation of the Orient.” In Musicological Identities: Essays in Honor of Susan McClary, ed. Steven Baur, Raymond Knapp, and Jacqueline Warwick. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2008.

Anderson, Emily, ed., The Letters of Mozart and his Family, vol. 1. London: Macmillan and Co., 1938.

Badura-Skoda, Eva. “Haydn's Italian Opera Repertory at Eszterhaza Palace.” In New Looks at Italian Opera: Essays in Honor of Donald J. Grout, ed. William W. Austin, 172-219. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968.

———. “Zur Entstehung Von Haydns Oper ‘La Vera Costanza’.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 248-55. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

219

Bartha, Dénes and László Somfai. Haydn Als Opernkapellmeister: Die Haydn- Dokumente Der Esterházy-Opernsammlung. Budapest: Verlag der Ungarischen Akademie der Wissenschaft, 1960.

Bellini, Alice. “Music and ‘Music’ in Eighteenth-Century Meta-Operatic Scores.” Eighteenth-Century Music 6/2 (2009): 183-207.

Bellman, Jonathan. The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1993.

Brago, Michael. “Haydn, Goldoni, and Il Mondo Della Luna.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 17, no. 3 (1984): 308-32.

Branscombe, Peter. “Hanswurst Redivivus: Haydn's Connexions with The ‘Volkstheater’ Tradition.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 369-75. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Brown, Bruce Alan. “Gluck’s Rencontre Imprévue and its Revisions.” Journal of the American Musicological Society, vol. 36, no. 3 (1983): 498-518.

———. “Le Pazzie D'orlando, Orlando Paladino, and the Uses of Parody.” Italica 64, no. 4 (1987): 583-605.

———. Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991.

———. “Lo specchio francese: Viennese opera buffa and the legacy of French theatre.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Castelvecchi, Stefano. “Sentimental and Anti-Sentimental In ‘Le Nozze Di Figaro’.” Journal of the American Musicological Society 53, no. 1 (2000): 1-24.

Clark, Caryl. “The Opera Buffa Finales of Joseph Haydn.” Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 1991.

———. “Haydn and Mozart as Composers of Opera.” Studies in Music from the University of Western Ontario 14 (1993): 79-103.

———. “The Last Laugh: Il mondo della luna, Goldoni and Haydn.” In Goldoni and the Musical Theatre, ed. Domenico Pietropaolo. New York: Legas, 1995.

———. “Intertextual Play and Haydn’s La Fedeltà Premiata.” Current Musicology, no. 51 (1999): 59-81.

220

———. “Haydn in the Theater: The Operas.” In The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005

Debly, Patricia. “Social Commentary in the Music of Haydn’s Goldoni Opera.” In Symposium of the International Musicological Society, Melbourne, Aug. 18-Sept. 2, 1988, edited by Jamie Croy Kassler, 51-68. Sydney: Currency Press, 1988.

Durante, Sergio. “Analysis and dramaturgy: reflections towards a theory of opera.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Emery, Ted. Goldoni as Librettist: Theatrical Reform and the drammi giocosi per musica. Studies in Italian Culture: Literature in History, ed. Aldo Scaglione, vol. 13. New York: Peter Lang, 1991.

Feder, Georg. “Einige Thesen Zu Dem Thema: Haydn Als Dramatiker.” Haydn Studien II (1969): 126-30.

———. “Opera Seria, Opera Buffa und Opera Semiseria bei Haydn.” In Opernstudien: Anna Amalie Abert zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Klaus Hortschansky. Tutzing: Schneider, 1975.

———. “Dramaturgische Aspekte Der Cantarina-Intermezzi Von Sciroli (1753), Conforto (1754), Piccinni (1760) Und Haydn (1766).” In Napoli E Il Teatro Musicale in Europa Tra Sette E Ottocento: Studi in Onore Di Friedrich Lippmann, ed. Bianca Maria Antoline and Wolfgang Witzenmann, 55-67. Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1993.

Feldman, Martha. “Magic Mirrors and the Seria Stage: Thoughts toward a Ritual View.” Journal of the American Musicological Society 48, no. 3 (1995): 423-84.

Freeman, Robert N., Karl Geiringer, David Malvinni, and Martin Silver. Joseph Haydn and the Eighteenth Century: Collected Essays of Karl Geiringer, Detroit Monographs in Musicology/Studies in Music. Warren: Harmonie Park, 2002.

Gallarati, Paolo. “Mozart and eighteenth-century comedy.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Goehring, Edmund J. “The sentimental muse of opera buffa.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1959.

221

Green, Rebecca Lee. “Power and Patriarchy in Haydn's Goldoni Operas.” Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 1995.

———.“From Agapito to Sempronio: Deafness and Hearing in the Operatic Theatre.” In Goldoni and the Musical Theatre, ed. Domenico Pietropaolo. New York: Legas, 1995.

———. “Representing the Aristocracy: The Operatic Haydn and Le Pescatrici.” In Haydn and His World, ed. Elaine Sisman. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997.

Greisenegger, Wolfgang. “Ausstattungs-Usancen Bei Den Opernaufführungen in Esterháza.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 318-24. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Hamilton, Edith. Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. New York: The New American Library, 1963.

Head, Matthew. Orientalism, Masquerade and Mozart’s Turkish Music. London: Royal Musical Association, 2000.

———. “Haydn's Exoticisms: 'Difference' and the Enlightenment.” In The Cambridge Companion to Haydn, ed. Caryl Clark. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Heartz, Daniel. “The Creation of the Buffo Finale in Italian Opera.” Proceedings of the Royal Music Association, vol. 104 (1977-1978): 67-78.

———. “Haydn's Acide E Galatea and the Imperial Wedding Operas of 1760 by Hasse and Gluck.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 332-40. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

———. “Watteau’s Italian Comedians.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 22, no. 2 (1988-1989): 156-181.

———. Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School: 1740-1780. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1995.

———. “Goldoni, opera buffa, and Mozart’s advent in Vienna.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Hunter, Mary. “Haydn's Aria Forms: A Study of the Arias in the Italian Operas Written at Eszterhaza, 1766-1783.” Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 1982.

222

———. “Haydn’s Sonata-Form Arias.” Current Musicology, no. 37-38 (1984): 19-32.

———. “The Fusion and Juxtaposition of Genres in Opera Buffa 1770-1800: Anelli and Piccinni's 'Griselda'.” Music & Letters 67, no. 4 (1986): 363-80.

———. “Text, Music, and Drama in Haydn's Italian Opera Arias: Four Case Studies.” The Journal of Musicology 7, no. 1 (1989): 29-57.

———. “Some Representations of Opera Seria in Opera Buffa.” Cambridge Opera Journal 3, no. 2 (1991): 89-108.

———. “Bourgeois values and opera buffa in 1780s Vienna.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

———. “The Alla Turca Style in the Late Eighteenth Century: Race and Gender in the Symphony and the Seraglio.” In The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998.

———. The Culture of Opera Buffa in Mozart's Vienna: A Poetics of Entertainment, ed. Carolyn Abbate and Roger Parker, Princeton Studies in Opera. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999.

Kerman, Joseph. Opera as Drama: New and Revised Edition. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988.

Kiernan, V.G. “Noble and Ignoble Savages.” In Exoticism in the Enlightenment, edited by G.S. Rousseau and Roy Porter. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1990.

Landon, H. C. Robbins. Haydn: Chronicle and Works, Haydn at Eszterháza: 1766-1790. Vol. 2. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978.

Lazarevich, Gordana. “Haydn and the Italian Comic Intermezzo Tradition.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5- 12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 376-86. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Leopold, Silke. “Le Pescatrici: Goldoni, Haydn, Gassmann.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 341-51. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Lippmann, Friedrich. “Haydn e L'Opera Buffa: Tre Confronti con Opere Italiane Coeve Sullo Stesso Testo.” Nuova rivista musicale italiana XVII (1983): 223-46.

223

———. “Haydns Opere Serie: Tendenzen Und Affinitäten.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 310-14. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Locke, Ralph P. “Cutthroats and Casbah Dancers, Muezzins and Timeless Sands: Musical Images of the Middle East.” In The Exotic in Western Music, edited by Jonathan Bellman. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998.

———. Musical Exoticisms: Images and Reflections. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Mannsåker, Frances. “Elegancy and Wildness: Reflections of the East in the Eighteenth- Century Imagination.” In Exoticism in the Enlightenment, edited by G.S.Rousseau and Roy Porter. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1991.

McClymonds, Marita P. “Opera seria? Opera buffa? Genre and style as sign.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Melkus, Eduard. “Haydn Als Dramatiker Am Beispiel Der Oper ‘La Ver Costanza’.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5- 12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 256-76. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Paul, Steven E. “Wit and Humour in the Operas of Haydn.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 386-403. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Petrobelli, Pierluigi. “Goldoni at Esterháza: The Story of His Librettos Set by Haydn.” In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5- 12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 314-18. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Price, Curtis. “Italian Opera and Arson in Late Eighteenth-Century London.” Journal of the American Musicological Society 42, no. 1 (1989): 55-107.

Rice, Eric. “Representations of Janissary Music (Mehter) as Musical Exoticism in Western Compositions,” Journal of Musicological Research, vol. 19 (1999): 41- 88.

Rice, John. “Sarti's Giulio Sabino, Haydn's Armida, and the Arrival of Opera Seria at Eszterháza.” Haydn Yearbook XV (1984).

———. Antonio Salieri and Viennese Opera. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998.

Robinson, Michael F. Naples and Neapolitan Opera. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972.

224

———. "Mozart and the Opera Buffa Tradition." In W. A. Mozart: Le Nozze Di Figaro, ed. Tim Carter, 11-32. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

Rosen, Charles. The Classical Style: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1972.

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. The Letter to M. D’Alembert on the Theatre. Translated by Allan Bloom. Illinois: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1960.

Said, Edward W. Orientalism. New York: Vintage Books, 1979.

Schneider. "Vaudeville-Finali in Haydns Opern Und Ihre Vorgeschichte." In Proceedings of the International Joseph Haydn Congress, Vienna, September 5-12, 1982, edited by Eva Badura-Skoda, 302-09. Munich: G. Henle Verlag, 1986.

Taylor, Timothy. “Peopling the Stage: Opera, Otherness, and New Musical Representations in the Eighteenth Century.” Cultural Critique, no. 36 (1997): 55- 88.

———. Beyond Exoticism: Western Music and the World. Durham: Duke University Press, 2007.

Troy, Charles. The Comic Intermezzo: A Study in the History of Eighteenth-Century Opera, Studies in Musicology. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979.

Waldoff, Jessica P. “Don Giovanni: Recognition denied.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

———. “Sentiment and Sensibility in La Vera Constanza.” In Haydn Studies, edited by Dean W. Sutcliffe. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998.

———. Recognition in Mozart’s Operas. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Webster, James. “To Understand Verdi and Wagner We Must Understand Mozart.” 19th- Century Music 11, no. 2 (1987): 175-93.

———. “Understanding opera buffa: analysis=interpretation.” In Opera Buffa in Mozart’s Vienna, edited by Mary Hunter and James Webster. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Whaples, Miriam K. “Early Exoticism Revisited.” In The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman. Boston: Northeastern University, Press, 1998.

225

Wheelock, Gretchen A. Haydn’s Ingenious Jesting with Art: Contexts of Musical Wit and Humor. New York: Schirmer Books, 1992.

Wirth, Helmut. Joseph Haydn Als Dramatiker: Sein Bühnenschaffen Als Beitrag Zur Geschichte Der Deutschen Oper, ed. Friedrich Blume, Schriften Des Musikwissenschaftlichen Instituts Der Universität Kiel. Wolfenbüttel-Berlin: Kallmeyer, 1940.

———. “Gluck, Haydn und Mozart: Drei Entführungs-Opern.” In Opernstudien: Anna Amalie Abert zum 65. Geburtstag. Tutzing: Schneider, 1975.

226