MOZART had been so well satisfied with Da Ponte's libretto for "Figaro" that he had no hesitation in intrusting the new libretto to him, and immediately on his return to Vienna they consulted together as to the choice of subject. Da Ponte, fully convinced of the many-sidedness of Mozart's genius, proposed "Don Giovanni," and Mozart at once agreed to it. Da Ponte relates, 1 with an amusing amount of swagger, that he was engaged at one and the same time on "Tarar" for Salieri, on the "Arbore di Diana" for Martin, and on "Don Giovanni" for Mozart. Joseph II. made some remonstrance on this, to which Da Ponte answered that he would do his best; he could write for Mozart at night and imagine himself reading Dante's "Inferno"; for Martin in the morning, and be reminded of Petrarch; and in the evening for Salieri, who should be his Tasso. Thereupon he set to work, a bottle of wine and his Spanish snuffbox before him, and his hostess's pretty daughter by his side to enact the part of inspiring muse. The first day, the two first scenes of "Don Giovanni," two scenes of the "Arbore di Diana," and more than half of the first act of "Tarar" were written, and in sixty-three days the whole of the first two operas and two-thirds of the last were ready. Unfortunately we have no certain information either of the share taken by Mozart in the construction of the text, nor of the manner in which his composition was carried on. The warmth of his reception at Prague made the contrast of his position in Vienna all the more galling to him. On the departure of Storace, Kelly, and Attwood for England, in February, 1787, he had seriously entertained the idea of following them as soon as they had found a situation worthy of his acceptance VIENNA, 1787—DITTERSDORF. in London. The bass singer Fischer, who was visiting Vienna, 2 wrote in Mozart's album on April 1, 1787, the following verses, more well-meaning than poetical:—

The lines throw a light on Mozart's relations to his fellow-artists, and the hint contained in Barisani's album verses, written on April 14, 1787, that the Italian composers envied him his art (Vol. II., p. 306), leaves no doubt as to whose envy, in the opinion of himself and his friends, he had to dread. A musical connoisseur, visiting Vienna on his return from Italy in the spring of 1787, 3 found everybody engrossed with Martin's "Cosa Rara," which, Storace's departure having rendered its performance in Italian impossible, was being played in a German adaptation at the Marinelli theatre with success. Dittersdorfs success in German opera had also the effect of throwing Mozart completely into the shade.

Dittersdorf (1739-1799) 4 came to Vienna during Lent, 1786, 5 to produce his oratorio of "Job" at the concerts of the Musical Society, and he afterwards gave two concerts in the Augarten, at which his symphonies on Ovid's "Metamorphoses" were performed. The genuine success of these compositions led to his being requested to write a German opera. Stephanie junior, theatrical director at the time, provided him with the incredibly dull libretto of the "Doctor und Apotheker," which was played for the first DON GIOVANNI. time on July 11, 1786, and twenty times subsequently during the year. That which had not been attained by the success of the "EntfÜhrung," happened in this case. Dittersdorf was at once requested to write a second opera, "Betrug durch Aberglauben," which was performed on October 3, 1786, with not less applause than the first; it was followed by a third "Die Liebe im Narrenhause," also very well received on April 12, 1787. On the other hand, an Italian opera by Dittersdorf, "Democrito Corretto," first performed on January 2, 1787, was a complete failure. Dittersdorf's brilliant triumph over such composers as Umlauf, Hanke, or Ruprecht, is not to be wondered at; his operas rapidly spread from Vienna to all the other German theatres, and he acquired a popularity far in excess of most other composers. 6 True merit was undoubtedly at the bottom of this; he was skilful in appropriating the good points both of opera buffa and of French comic opera, and his finales and ensemble movements are specially happy in effect; he was not only thoroughly experienced in the management of voices, but, being a fertile instrumental composer, he had learnt from the example and precedent of Haydn to employ his orchestra independently, and with good effect. His easy flow of invention furnished him with an abundance of pleasing melodies, a considerable amount of comic talent showed itself in somewhat highly flavoured jokes, and his music had an easy-going, good-tempered character, which, though often sinking into Philistinism, was, nevertheless, genuinely German. Far behind GrÉtry as he was in intellect and refinement, he decidedly excelled him in musical ability. Life and originality were incontestably his, but depth of feeling or nobility of form will be sought for in vain in his works. Each new opera was a mere repetition of that which had first been so successful, affording constant proof of his limited powers, which were rightly estimated by some of his contemporaries. 7 Joseph II. COMPOSITIONS IN 1787. shared the partiality of the public for Dittersdorf's lighter style of music, and rewarded him munificently when he left Vienna in the spring of 1787. But the Emperor took no real interest in German opera—the company received their dismissal in the autumn of 1787, and the performances ceased in February, 1788. 8

Mozart's autograph Thematic Catalogue contains few important works between his return to Vienna and his second journey to Prague:—

1787. March 11. Rondo for pianoforte, A minor (511 K.).

March 18. Scena for Fischer, "Non sÖ d'onde viene" (512 K.).

March 23. Air for Gottfried von Jacquin, "M entre ti lascio" (513 K.).

April 6. Rondo for the horn, for Leutgeb (514 K.).

April 19. Quintet for two violins, two violas, and violoncello, C major (Vol. III., p. 19) (515 K.).

May 16. Quintet, G minor (Vol. III., p. 20) (516 K.).

May 18, 20, 23, 26. A song on each (517-520 K.).

May 20. A piano sonata for four hands, in C major (521 K.).

June 11. A musical jest (Vol. II., p. 367, 522 K.).

June 24. Two songs (523, 524 K.).

August 10. Serenade (525 K.).

August 24. Pianoforte sonata with violin, in A major (526 K.).

These were probably all composed for social or teaching purposes; even the two quintets, which are worthy of the first rank, were no doubt written to order for a particular musical circle. Nor were these compositions to the taste of the Viennese public of the day. The traveller already mentioned notes as follows: 9 —

Kozeluch's works hold their ground, and are always acceptable, while Mozart's are not by any means so popular. It is true; and the fact receives fresh confirmation from his quartets dedicated to Haydn, that he has a decided leaning to what is difficult and unusual. But on the other hand, how great and noble are his ideas—how daring a spirit does he display in them!

The amount of industry with which Mozart worked at "Don Giovanni" is unknown to us. We may conclude that, if he followed his usual habit, he plunged eagerly into his new libretto at first, and afterwards procrastinated over DON GIOVANNI. the actual transcription of his ideas. The received tradition represents him as bringing the unfinished opera to Prague in September, 1787, 10 and completing it, incited by intercourse with the intended performers and the stimulating society of his enthusiastic friends and admirers. 11 The impresario, who was bound to provide accommodation for the composer until after the performance, had lodged Mozart in a house, "bei drei LÖwen" (on the market-place). 12 He preferred, however, the vineyard of his friend Duschek at Kossir (Kosohirz); and the summer-house and stone table are still shown at which he used to sit writing his score, with lively talk and bowl-playing going on round him. 13 All such stories as those of the delicate diplomacy with which Mozart apportioned the several parts to the satisfaction of the performers, of his having been obliged to appease L. Bassi, indignant at Don Giovanni having no proper grand air to sing; of his having composed "La ci darem la mano" five times before he could satisfy the singers, 14 repose on the same foundation as those of his PERFORMANCE IN PRAGUE, 1787. love-making with the female performers. 15 As to this, we know his relations with the Duscheks; Teresa Saporiti is said to have expressed her surprise that so great an artist should be so insignificant in appearance; whereat Mozart, touched on his weakest point, diverted his attentions from her and bestowed them on Micelli or Bondini—there were no other female artists in Prague at that time. We are unfortunate in having no information as to the influence exerted on the details of the composition by the idiosyncracies of the singers and other circumstances. Two anecdotes obtained credence at the time, both relating to the rehearsals for which Da Ponte had also come from Vienna; 16 he was lodged at the back of the inn "Zum Platteis," and the poet and composer could converse with each other from their respective windows.

In the finale of the first act Teresa Bondini as Zerlina failed to utter the cry for help in a sufficiently spontaneous manner. After many vain attempts, Mozart went himself on to the stage, had the whole thing repeated, and at the right moment gave the singer so unexpected and severe a push that she shrieked out in alarm. "That's right," he exclaimed, laughing, "that is the way to shriek!" The words of the Commendatore in the churchyard scene were originally, it is said, accompanied only by the trombones. The trombone-players failing to execute the passage, Mozart went to the desk, and began to explain how it might be done, whereupon one of them said: "It cannot be played in that way, nor can even you teach us how to do it." Mozart answered, laughing: "God forbid that I should teach you to play the trumpet; give me the parts, and I will alter them." He did so accordingly, and added the wood wind instruments. 17

DON GIOVANNI.

A good omen for the reception of the new opera was afforded by a brilliant performance of "Figaro" on October 14, 18 under Mozart's direction, in honour of the bride of Prince Anton of Saxony, the Archduchess Maria Theresa of Toscana, who was passing through Prague on her wedding tour. 19 Nevertheless, Mozart himself felt far from secure of the success of "Don Giovanni"; and after the first rehearsal, while taking a walk with the orchestral conductor Kucharz, he asked him in confidence what he thought of the opera, and whether it was likely to achieve so decided a success as that of "Figaro." Kucharz answered that he could entertain no doubt of the success of such fine and original music, and that anything coming from Mozart would meet with ready recognition from the Prague public. Mozart declared himself satisfied with such an opinion from a musician, and said he was ready to spare neither pains nor labour to produce a work worthy of Prague. 20

Thus approached the day of performance, October 29 (not November 4), 1787; and on the previous evening the overture was still unwritten, to the great consternation of Mozart's assembled friends. We have already told (Vol. II., p. 414) how he parted late from the merry company, and sat down to write with a glass of punch before him, and his wife telling him stories by his side; how sleep overcame him, and he was obliged to lie down for several hours before completing his task; and how the copyist was sent for at seven o'clock in the morning, and the overture was ready at SUCCESS IN PRAGUE

the appointed time. 21 There was barely time to write out the parts before the beginning of the opera, which indeed was somewhat delayed on this account. The well-drilled and inspired orchestra played the overture at sight so well that, during the introduction to the first act, Mozart observed to the instrumentalists near him: "Some of the notes fell under the desks, it is true, but the overture went capitally upon the whole." The success of the first representation was brilliant. The theatre was full to overflowing, and Mozart's appearance as conductor at the piano was the signal for enthusiastic clapping and huzzas. The suspense with which the overture was awaited found vent in a very storm of applause, which accompanied the opera from beginning to end. The cast of this performance was as follows:—[See Page Images]

The performance, though not including any virtuosi of the first rank or fame, was considered an excellent one; the inspiring influence of the maestro and the elevated mood of the public united to induce the performers to put forth all their powers, and stimulated them to extraordinary efforts. Guardasoni, who was associated with Bondini in the management of the theatre, 22 was so delighted with the success of DON GIOVANNI. the opera that he announced it to Da Ponte (who had been obliged to hurry back to Vienna to put "Axur" upon the stage) in the words: "Evviva Da Ponte, ewiva Mozart! Tutti gli impresari, tutti i virtuosi devono benedirli! finchÈ essi vivranno, son si saprÀ mai, cosa sia miseria teatrale." 23 Mozart also communicated to' Da Ponte the happy result of their joint labours, and wrote to Gottfried von Jacquin (November 4, 1787):—

Dearest Friend,—I hope you have received my letters. On October 29, my opera, "Don Giovanni," was put in scena, with the most unqualified success. Yesterday it was performed for the fourth time, for my benefit.

I intend to leave here on the 12th or 13th, and as soon as I arrive in Vienna you shall have the airs to sing. N.B.—Between ourselves—I only wish my good friends (particularly Bridi and yourself) could be here for a single evening to share in my triumph. Perhaps it will be performed in Vienna. I hope so. They are trying all they can here to persuade me to remain two months longer, and write another opera; but flattering as the proposal is, I cannot accept it. 24

Mozart met with constant and unequivocal proofs of esteem on all sides during his visit to Prague; an esteem, too, not of mere fashion or prejudice, but founded on a genuine love of art; he gave himself up unreservedly to the pleasure afforded him by intercourse with his friends and admirers; and many of these retained long after, as Niemet-schek says (p. 93), the memory of the hours passed in his society. He was as artless and confiding as a child, and overflowing with fun and merriment; it was difficult for SONG FOR MADAME DUSCHEK, 1787. strangers to realise that they were in the society of the great and admired artist.

Mozart had promised his friend, Madame Duschek, that he would compose a new concert air for her; as usual, however, he could not be brought to the point of transcribing it. One day she locked him into a summer-house on the Weinberg, and declared she would not let him out until he had finished the air. He set to work at once, but having completed his task, retorted that if she could not sing the song correctly and well at first sight, he would not give it to her. 25 In truth, the words: "Quest' affanno, questo passo È terribile," in the andante of this song ("Bella mia fiamma," 528 K., part 2) are rendered after a highly characteristic manner; and the intervals for the voice, not easy in themselves, become, by their harmonic disposition, a severe test of pure and correct intonation. Altogether, this is one of the most beautiful of Mozart's concert airs; it makes no great claims on the singer's powers of execution, but it requires a soprano voice of considerable compass and power, and a grand and expressive delivery. It is interesting to observe how this song, animated and energetic as it is in expression, yet differs essentially from the properly dramatic music of "Don Giovanni." Unconnected with any plot, and not designed for the stage, the situation adopts a modified character, the concert singer being in a totally different position from the actor; and the form in which the composer clothes his conception is suitably modified also. On November 15, 1787, immediately after Mozart's return to Vienna, Gluck died; and the success of "Don Giovanni" in Prague may have contributed to induce Joseph II. to retain Mozart in Vienna by appointing him Chamber-Musi-cian (Kammermusikus) on December 7, 1787. For the present, however, there was no prospect of a performance of "Don Giovanni" in Vienna.

Salieri had produced his opera of "Tarar" in Paris, in June, 1787, Beaumarchais having spared no pains to create DON GIOVANNI. an effect by a lively and exciting plot, by lavish decorations and costumes, and by political and philosophical allusions. The public was at first somewhat disappointed, and the music was considered inferior to that of the "Danaides," produced in 1774; but the extraordinary piece made in the end a great effect, and attracted large audiences. 26 The Emperor was exceedingly pleased with the music, and commissioned Da Ponte to prepare Italian words for it upon the occasion of the marriage of the Archduke Francis with the Princess Elizabeth. This Italian opera of "Axur" retained only the groundwork of the original, both the words and the music being completely remodelled. Da Ponte gave fresh proof of his dexterity, and Salieri, finding his task far more congenial than before, did not grudge the trouble of recomposition. 27 On January 8, 1788, the Festival opera "Axur" was performed as a "Freispektakel," the betrothal of the distinguished pair by the Archduke Maximilian having taken place on January 6. 28 At first the audience were somewhat taken aback by the traces of the French "Tarar" in the Italian "Axur," but very soon they felt the lively, brilliantly appointed plot, and the freer development of musical forms to be additional charms bestowed on the essentially Italian music. Several representations, following in quick succession, increased the favour in which this opera came to be held in Vienna, 29 especially by the Emperor Joseph, 30 and very soon on every stage in Germany. 31

The present, therefore, was no time for "Don Giovanni." Mozart catered for the amusement of the Viennese by the dances (534-536 K.), which he wrote in January, 1788, for the balls in the Redoutensaale, and he indulged his patriotic feelings by a song on the Turkish war, which Baumann sang at the theatre in the Leopoldstadt (539 K.). He PERFORMANCE IN VIENNA, 1788. appears also to have given a concert during Lent, for which he wrote his pianoforte concerto in D major (537 K.). But Joseph II. commanded the production of "Don Giovanni," and there was no more to be said; it was given on May 7, 1788, 32 and was a failure. Everybody, says Da Ponte, 33 except Mozart, thought it a mistake; additions were made, airs were altered, but no applause followed. Nevertheless Da Ponte took Mozart's advice, and had the opera repeated several times in quick succession, so that people grew accustomed to what was unusual, and the applause increased with every representation. 34 The cast of the opera in Vienna was as follows:—[See Page Image]

There was no reason, as will be acknowledged, to ascribe the tardy success of "Don Giovanni" to the inferiority of its performance. 35 Da Ponte appears also to have DON GIOVANNI. exaggerated with respect to the frequent alterations. Mozart's Thematic Catalogue contains three pieces for insertion written before the first performance (April 24, 28, 30) and incorporated in the book of words. 36 Mdlle. Cavalieri, of whom it was said at the time 37 that, deserving to be placed in the first rank of Italian singers, and almost deified as she was in Italy, not a word in her praise was ever uttered in Vienna, insisted on having a grand scena in the part of Elvira, in order to maintain her reputation as a singer. This gave rise (April 30) to the magnificent air "Mi tradi quell' alma ingrata" (527, 25 K.). 38 Mozart could not indeed persuade himself to sacrifice so much to the "voluble organ of Mdlle. Cavalieri" as he had formerly done in the "EntfÜhrung" (Vol. II., p. 235), but even as it is, the dramatic interest has to yield to the vocal—the character of Elvira to the individuality of the singer. The tenor singer, Signor Francesco Morelia, 39 on the contrary, seems to have found Ottavio's grand air too much for him, and the air in G major "Della sua pace" (527, 27 K.), composed for him is more modest in every respect.

A stronger effort after popularity was made by the duet between Zerlina and Leporello, "Per queste tue manine" (527, 28 K.). The situation is broadly comic, and has no proper connection with the plot; Leporello is roundly abused, and finally tied hand and foot by Zerlina. It was probably intended as a sacrifice to the taste of the audience, who expected an opera buffa to make them laugh heartily. We know that Benucci was an excellent comedian in every branch of his art, and this duet leads to the conclusion that Signora Mombelli's forte was buffa. Zerlina expresses her anger and revenge volubly enough, but her own special grace CRITIQUES ON DON GIOVANNI. and roguery have quite deserted her here. In a true opera buffa the duet would have been quite in keeping; but it is out of place in "Don Giovanni," because it brings Leporello and Zerlina to the foreground in a degree which does not accord with the plot, and places them both in a harsh light, false to their character as elsewhere displayed. Mozart was right, then, in his opinion that additions and alterations were not the means to make his opera gain favour; it was altogether too unusual a phenomenon to take immediate effect upon a Viennese audience. We have already seen how Haydn was constrained to put to silence the adverse criticisms of musicians and connoisseurs assembled at Count Rosenberg's, by declaring his conviction that Mozart was the greatest composer in the world. "Don Giovanni" first made its way upon the stages of Germany in German adaptations. It was given at Mannheim with extraordinary success in October, 1789, 40 and Schroder produced it in Hamburg at about the same time; Schink, while severely criticising the libretto of the opera, expresses himself enthusiastically in praise of the music—

How can this music, so full of force, majesty, and grandeur, be expected to please the lovers of ordinary opera, who bring their ears to the theatre with them, but leave their hearts at home? The grand and noble qualities of the music in "Don Juan" will appeal only to the small minority of the elect. It is not such as to tickle the ear of the crowd, and leave the heart unsatisfied. Mozart is no ordinary composer. His music has been profoundly felt and thought out in its relation to the characters, situations, and sentiments of his personages. It is a study in language, treated musically. He never decks out his songs with unnecessary and meaningless passages. That is the way in which expression is banished from music: expression consisting not in particular words, but in the skilful and natural combination of sounds as a medium of real emotion. Of this method of expression Mozart is a consummate master. Each sound which he produces has its origin in emotion, and overflows with it. His expression is glowing with life and picturesqueness, yet without the taint of voluptuousness. He has the richest, and at the same time the most temperate imagination. He is a true virtuoso, never allowing his creative impulse to run away with his judgment; his inspiration is guided by reason, his impersonations are the result of calm deliberation. 41

DON GIOVANNI.

The Berlin criticism was not quite so favourable, the opera having been there performed for the first time in the presence of the King on December 20, 1790: 42 —

If ever an opera was looked forward to with curiosity, if ever a composition of Mozart's was lauded to the skies before its performance, it was surely this "Don Juan." Every one will allow that Mozart is a great and admirable composer, but that nothing good or great has been written before this opera, or will be written after it, is a point on which we may be allowed to doubt. Theatrical music admits of no rules, of no appeal but to the heart, and its worth is in proportion to its effect thereon. No amount of art in heaping up instrumental effects will make a great musician or render his name immortal, unless he can give utterance to the passions and emotions of the heart. GrÉtry, Monsigny, and Philidor are instances to the point. Mozart has aimed at writing something extraordinary, something inimitably grand in his "Don Juan"; the extraordinary is there, certainly, but not the inimitably grand. Vanity, eccentricity, fancy, have created "Don Juan," not the heart; and we should have preferred being called upon to admire the highest capabilities of music in one of his oratorios or solemn church compositions than in his "Don Juan." 43

The extraordinary success of the opera 44 is attested by a notice of it 45 which proceeds to prove that this musical drama satisfies the eye, enchants the ear, does violence to the intellect, offends against morals, and suffers vice to trample upon virtue and good feeling. The author of the criticism accounts for the popularity of the opera by the quality of the music, which is beyond all expression grand:—

If ever a nation might be proud of one of its children, Germany may be proud of Mozart, the composer of this opera. Never was the greatness of the human mind more perceptible, never did music reach so high a level! Melodies which an angel might have conceived are accompanied by divinest harmonies, and those whose souls are in any degree susceptible to what is truly beautiful will agree with me in saying the ear is bewitched.

At the same time he cannot refrain from the pious wish:—[See Page Image]

CRITIQUES ON DON GIOVANNI.

Oh, that he had not so wasted the energies of his mighty mind!—that his judgment had been brought to the aid of his imagination, and had shown him a less miry path to fame! How can it please him that his name should appear set in diamonds upon a golden tablet, and the tablet suspended on a pillory?

Spazier, who acknowledged Mozart's "true, unborrowed, unartificial wealth of ideas," 46 and said of "Don Giovanni" that some of its single airs were worth more than whole operas by Paesiello, 47 remarks on another occasion: 48 —

The pleasure of seeing a genius strike out a new path with ease, which one feels would possess insurmountable obstacles to others, becomes pain and grief, which can only be turned to enjoyment again by minute study of the work, when such an artist puts forth his whole strength as Mozart has in "Don Juan," where he overwhelms his hearers with the vastness of his art, giving to the whole an almost boundless effect.

His promise of a more minute description remained unfulfilled. The various notices of the work which followed its performance in other places were all of the same kind, both praise and blame recognising the fact that a novel and important phenomenon was being treated of. 49 After the performance in Weimar, Goethe wrote to Schiller (December 30, 1797) ^

Your hopes for the opera are richly fulfilled in "Don Juan"; but the work is completely isolated, and Mozart's death frustrates any prospect of his example being followed. 50

DON GIOVANNI.

The popularity of the opera with the general public spread rapidly, and very soon there was no stage in Germany where "Don Juan" had not acquired permanent possession. According to Sonnleithner's calculation, "Don Giovanni" had been performed 531 times at Vienna at the end of the year 1863; at Prague, Stiepanek asserts that 116 representations took place during the first ten years, and 360 before 1855; 51 at the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of "Don Giovanni" at Berlin, in 1837, more than 200 performances were calculated to have taken place; 52 similar celebrations took place at Prague 53 and Magdeburg. 54 The opera was first introduced at Paris in 1805, in a fearfully distorted and mangled version, by C. Kalkbrenner; a characteristic instance was the masque terzet, where the words "Courage, vigilance, adresse, dÉfiance, que l'active prudence prÉside À nos desseins" were sung by three gendarmes. Kalkbrenner also interpolated some of his own music, and, spite of it all, the fabrication pleased for a time. 55 In the year 1811 "Don Giovanni" was first given in its original form by the singers of the Italian opera, and ever since the most distinguished artists have retained Mozart's masterpiece upon this stage in an uninterrupted succession of performances. 56 A French translation of "Don Juan," by Castil-Blaze, 57 was given at Lyons in 1822, at the OdÉon in Paris in 1827, and at the AcadÉmie de Musique in 1834, admirably cast and brilliantly appointed, besides being more true to the original; 58 a still newer adaptation has been performed at the ThÉÄtre Lyrique. 59 In London the great success of "Figaro" had paved the way for "Don Giovanni," which has ever since its STATISTICS OF PERFORMANCES. first performance, in April, 1817, occupied a prominent place at the Italian opera of that city. The applause which followed the first Italian representation was so great that the lessee of Covent Garden theatre produced an English version in May of the same year, which was excellently performed, and with considerable success. 60

While "Don Giovanni" was thus becoming familiar to opera-goers in the north, and even in Petersburg, Stockholm, and Copenhagen, it had not met with any very warm or general sympathy in Italy, where repeated attempts to introduce it to the public had resulted only in a certain amount of respectful recognition from connoisseurs. "Don Giovanni" was first given in Rome in 1811, no pains having been spared in the rehearsals, and few alterations made in the opera. The audience was very attentive, and applauded loudly; the music was termed "bellissima, superba, sublime, un musicone"—but not altogether "del gusto del paese"; the many stranezze might be "belissime," but they were not what people were accustomed to. 61 A more successful attempt was made in Naples in the following year, although not on so grand a scale; the audience were attentive, and seemed to accustom themselves to the musica classica, but even here the success was not lasting. 62 The first representation at Milan in 1814 provoked quite as much hissing as applause, but subsequent performances were more successful. 63 At Turin the opera appears to have pleased in 1815, in spite of its wretched performance. 64 A mangled version of "Don Giovanni" was given at Florence in 1818, and failed, but it was afterwards very well received in its true form; 65 in 1857, as a friend wrote to me, "the antiquated hyperborean music" was so emphatically hissed that it could not be risked again. In Genoa, too, in 1824, "Don Giovanni" pleased the learned, but not the public; 66 and at Venice, in 1833, it gained some DON GIOVANNI. little popularity by slow degrees. 67 Quite lately a celebrated Italian singer exclaimed angrily at a rehearsal of "Don Giovanni": "Non capisco niente a questa maledetta musica!" 68 Against all this must be placed Rossini's charming answer when he was pressed to say which of his own operas he liked best: one person present suggested one, another the other, till at last Rossini exclaimed: "Vous voulez connaÎtre celui de mes ouvrages que j'aime le mieux; eh bien, c'est 'Don Giovanni.'" 69 The fame of "Don Giovanni" did not long remain confined to the old world. When Garcia and his daughters were giving Italian operas at New York in 1825, at Da Ponte's suggestion they produced

"Don Giovanni." 70 At the conclusion of the first finale everything went wrong; Garcia, who was playing Don Giovanni, exerted himself in vain to keep the singers and orchestra in time and tune, until at last, sword in hand, he came forward and, commanding silence, exclaimed that it was a shame so to murder a masterpiece. They began again, collected themselves and took pains, and the finale came happily to an end. 71 The applause of the public renewed Da Ponte's youth; he recounts the satisfaction with which he heard the assurance of a friend, whose custom it was to go regularly to sleep at the opera, that such an opera as that would keep him awake all night. 72 "Don Giovanni" brought him still further good fortune; he placed his unexpectedly large profits obtained therefrom in the lottery, and for the first time drew a prize. 73 "Don Giovanni," once having made its way, was soon unanimously pronounced first among all, Mozart's operas; he was said to have declared that he wrote THE LIBRETTO. it not at all for Vienna, a little for Prague, but mostly for himself and his friends. 74 It is true that the libretto was formerly considered as a bungling fabrication only tolerated for the sake of the music; nevertheless, and especially after Hoffmann's clever vindication of its poetical meaning, 75 "Don Giovanni" gradually became the accepted canon of dramatic music, and the subject of wide-reaching discussion. 76 In "Figaro" Da Ponte had opened a new field to opera buffa, by representing the actual life of bourgeois society; in "Don Giovanni" he raised opera buffa in another direction to an altogether higher sphere. 77 The legend on which the opera is founded had reached the people through the tradition of centuries, and, familiar upon every stage in Europe, it held the same place in the popular mind as the myths of Greek tragedy. The facts, in spite of their wonderful and fantastic character, offered a good groundwork to the dramatist, and the main conception and essential elements of the situations and characters being given, the fullest freedom of construction and development was permitted in the treatment of the legend. 78 Whether the legend current in Seville DON GIOVANNI. of Don Juan Tenorio, 79 who invited to supper the statue of a warrior slain by him in a duel, and who, warned in vain to repent, was doomed to everlasting perdition, is of ancient origin or not, would be difficult to determine from the contradictory accounts given of it. 80 It is said to have been performed in monasteries from an early date, adapted by an unknown writer with the title of "El Ateista Fulminado:" 81 the first authentic dramatic version of the story being that by Gabriel Tellez, contemporary of Lope de Vega, monk and prior of a monastery in Madrid. His active ecclesiastical life did not prevent his acquiring, under the name of Tirso de Molina, an honourable place in Spanish literature as a dramatic poet. 82 His "Burlador de Sevilla y Convidado de Piedra" belongs, according to Schack, both in design and workmanship to his most fugitive pieces, but contains portions which could only have been written by a poet of the first rank. 83 The plot is briefly as follows:—

First Day [The scene is laid in Naples].—The Duchess Isabella is having a parting interview with her lover, Duke Ottavio, when she discovers that Don Juan has stolen into her apartment in Ottavio's stead. Her cries for assistance bring the King, who gives Don Juan into the custody of his uncle, Don Pedro Tenorio, the Spanish TIRSO DE MOLINA'S "CONVIDADO DE PIEDRA." Ambassador; the latter, discovering his relationship with his prisoner, allows him to escape, and denounces Don Ottavio to the King as Isabella's seducer. Don Pedro is thereupon commanded to arrest Don Ottavio, to whom, however, he declares that a man having been found with Isabella, she reported him to be Ottavio; the lover believes himself to be deceived and betrayed, and Don Pedro connives at his escape. [Coast scene in Tarragona.] Catalinon, Don Juan's servant, bears his shipwrecked master lifeless to shore, where they are discovered by Tisbea, a fisher-girl; Don Juan awakes to consciousness upon her bosom, and they fall violently in love with each other. 84 Their love-making is interrupted by a scene in which the Commandant, Don Gonzalo de Ulloa gives Don Albeso, King of Castile, an account of his diplomatic mission to Portugal. Then the story returns to Tisbea, who is deceived and deserted by Don Juan, and left to her passion of despair.

Second Day [The scene is in Seville].—Don Diego Tenorio, Don Juan's old father, acquaints the King with the crime which his son has committed in Naples against Isabella and Ottavio; the King banishes Don Juan from Seville until he shall make reparation by marrying Isabella. Ottavio enters and puts himself under the protection of the King, who promises to demonstrate his innocence in Naples, and to give him the hand of Donna Anna, Ulloa's daughter, and Don Juan's fiancÉe. Don Juan appears, greets Ottavio in friendly fashion, and enters into a long conversation with the Marquis de la Mota, wherein they discuss the beauties of the day like the regular rouÉs they are; finally the Marquis declares his love for Donna Anna. He has no sooner departed than a note is brought to Don Juan to be conveyed to the Marquis; he opens it, and finding that in it Donna Anna appoints an interview, determines to keep the appointment himself; and he acquaints De la Mota, who returns, with the invitation, but names a later hour. He is as indifferent to his father's sentence of banishment as to his repeated exhortations, and upon the arrival of the Marquis to serenade Donna Anna, he borrows his mantle, ostensibly to enable him to visit one of his many sweethearts, but really that he may gain access to Donna Anna herself. Discovering the deceit, she cries for help; her father stops Don Juan's way with drawn sword, and falls by his hand. The murderer flies; De la Mota enters for the rendezvous; the King, hurrying in with his guards, takes him for the murderer, and delivers him to judgment, commanding a magnificent funeral for the Commandant, and the erection of a monument in his honour. [Country scene.] Patricio is celebrating his wedding with Aminta, when Don Juan, journeying through, mingles with the guests, and placing himself close to the bride, excites the jealousy of the bridegroom.

Third Day.—Don Juan prevails upon the jealous Patricio to renounce DON GIOVANNI. Aminta by falsely representing that she was formerly seduced by him, and had summoned him to interrupt the wedding; he gains the consent of her father by means of a solemn promise of marriage, and after a long resistance, Aminta gives way. [The Sea-coast.] Isabella, arriving at the King's summons for her espousals with Don Juan, falls in with Tisbea, who complains of Don Juan's treachery, and repairs with Isabella to Seville to seek justice from the King. [Seville.] Don Juan, informed by Catalinon of how his victims are united to revenge themselves on him, sees the statue erected to the Commandant, with an inscription calling for vengeance on his murderer. This rouses his haughty insolence; he plucks the statue by the beard, and invites it to supper, that it may execute his vengeance. While Don Juan is entertaining his followers at table, the statue appears, to the consternation of all but Don Juan, and remains silent until the meal is over. Left alone with Don Juan, the Commandant invites him to supper in the chapel, and he accepts the invitation, after repressing an involuntary shudder. [The Palace.] The King promises Don Diego that he will create Don Juan Count of Lebrija, and bestow Isabella upon him, at the same time pardoning the Marquis at Donna Anna's request, and uniting the two in marriage. Don Ottavio requests the King's permission to fight a duel with Don Juan, his father proposing to judge between the two; the King commands a reconciliation. As he goes out, Aminta enters with her father, to acquaint the King with her claims on Don Juan's hand, and Ottavio promises her his support. [The Street.] Don Juan, pardoned by the King, and on the point of wedding Isabella, prepares to keep his appointment with the Commandant, and enters the church where Ulloa has spread a meal for him and Catalinon. The dishes contain scorpions and snakes, the wine is gall and verjuice, and the table music is a penitential psalm. After the meal, the Commandant grasps Don Juan's hand with a grip which cannot be shaken off; 85 "Thou art summoned to the eternal judgment-seat" exclaims the Commandant; "thy reward shall be fitted to thy deserts." Don Juan falls down lifeless and sinks below with the statue. [The Palace.] The King wishing to see the nuptials celebrated, Isabella, Aminta, and Tisbea come forward to make good their claims to Don Juan's hand, and the Marquis reveals the treachery practised on him by Don Juan. The King is in the act of promising justice, when Catalinon enters and makes known Don Juan's dreadful end. Thereupon Ottavio and Isabella, De la Mota and Donna Anna, Patricio and Aminta, are severally united, and "the story of the Marble Guest comes to an end."

TIRSO DE MOLINA'S "CONVIDADO DE PIEDRA."

The drama, necessarily, in this rapid sketch, stripped of all the elegance and brilliancy of its poetical rendering, bears to an extraordinary degree the stamp of the time and nation to which it belongs. The freedom and unreserve with which the various love intrigues are treated and described are certainly peculiar to the age, and the story is distinguished by a dash of chivalric bravery all its own; the audience, while recognising a faithful representation of their own state of morals, were little inclined to take umbrage at the summary punishment of the sinner before them. 86 This point is, indeed, emphasised by various observations made in a truly catholic spirit; for instance, when Don Juan says to his stony guest, after having mockingly invited him to sup: "What will'st thou, vision, ghost? Dost thou suffer still the pains of purgatory? Dost thou demand satisfaction? What is thy will? I pledge my word to do as thou com-mandest. Why hast thou left God's throne? Do thy sins cause thee still to wander?" The effect is greatly heightened again by the reply of the statue when Don Juan is about to light him out: "Let be; God lights my path." And when Don Juan sees that all is over, he begs for a confessor, and the statue answers, "Too late, too late is thy contrition!" and Don Juan falls dead. The intricate plot is very unequally treated, and so indeed are also the characters. Among the female characters, Tisbea as a type of passion, and Aminta as a type of naÏve simplicity, are both attractive and original; and among the men Don Juan, boldly and freely sketched, and his servant Catalinon, the inevitable "Gracioso" of the Spanish drama, are most remarkable. Catalinon in particular is treated with moderation and delicacy; neither his cowardice, his moralising, nor his wit is brought too prominently forward, and he always appears as the shadow of his master. Even in the spectre scenes he fails to rise to any grandeur of character. The influence of Spain upon the Italian drama 87 necessarily DON GIOVANNI. brought Tirso's "Don Juan" to Italy. According to Ricco-boni, it first appeared upon an Italian stage soon after 1620. 88 The first printed translation known is that by Onofrio Giliberti, entitled "Ü Convitato di Pietra," performed in 1652 at Naples; others followed with the same title by Giacinto Andrea Cicognini (1670) and Andrea Perucci (1678); 89 the subject was familiar on the Italian stage, and unfailingly popular. 90

The Italian dramatic company, who were naturalised in Paris at the theatre of the HÖtel de Bourgogne, were accustomed to appoint one of their number to arrange the plan of the pieces which they performed, but the actual performance was improvised. In this fashion they played an improvised version of Giliberti's "Convitato di Pietra," which had an extraordinary run. 91 The chief situations of the Spanish drama, much simplified and coarsened, are compressed into five acts, and Arlecchino, who appears here as Don Juan's servant, is brought into the foreground and made the mouthpiece of a great deal of very questionable badinage:—

The first act represents Isabella's seduction in Naples. Don Pedro, her father and Don Juan's uncle, agrees with her to denounce Ottavio, her lover, as her seducer, which causes the latter to take flight. 92 In the second act Don Juan and Arlecchino swim to shore [a very favourite scene, richly garnished with jokes], and Don Juan's love passages with the lovely fisher-maiden Rosalba take place. On her claiming his promise of marriage, he mockingly refers her to Arlecchino, who unrolls the long list of his master's mistresses. It was customary to allow the end of the roll to fall, as if by chance, into the pit, and the audience delighted themselves by looking for the names of their friends or connections in the list. Rosalba, in despair, casts herself into the sea. 93

THE ITALIAN "CONVITATO DI PIETRA."

The third act shows Ottavio in great favour at the court of Castile, on the point of marriage with Donna Anna. He is attended by Pantaloon, who carries on the usual by-play with Arlecchino. Don Juan intercepts the letter in which Donna Anna summons Ottavio, steals in to her, Arlecchino keeping watch outside, and slays the Commandant, her father, who surprises them. In the fourth act Donna Anna demands justice from the King; a reward of 6,000 thalers is placed upon the head of the murderer, and Arlecchino is greatly tempted to gain it, which gives rise to much jesting between him and Pantaloon. In the fifth act Don Juan is discovered before the statue of the Commandant, which he mocks. Arlecchino is made to invite it to supper, whereupon it nods, and, upon Don Juan's repetition of the invitation, answers him in words. Don Juan's supper gives opportunity for much comic display of greediness and cunning on the part of Arlecchino, continuing even after the appearance of the Commandant, who invites Don Juan and departs. The King, made acquainted with Don Juan's crimes, commands him to be seized and brought to justice. Before escaping he keeps his appointment with the Commandant in the church, and is dragged below by the spectre. The closing tableau shows Don Juan burning in hell, and expressing his torment and his remorse:—

To which the demons answer: "Mai!" 94

This extravaganza was extraordinarily successful. In 1673 a second version, with additions and new scenery ("Aggiunta al Convitato di Pietra"), was announced. 95 The new Italian company of the Duke of Orleans replaced the improvised "Convitato di Pietra" upon the stage in 1717, and it was revived in 1743. 96 This gave rise to a dispute with the French actors, who were not willing to renounce their claim to so taking a piece. 97 Dorimon first produced a translation of Giliberti's piece with the title of "Le Festin de Pierre, 98 ou le Fils Criminel," at Lyons in 1658, when DON GIOVANNI. Louis XIV. met the Princess of Savoy there, and it was performed again at the ThÉÄtre de la Rue des Quatre Vents, in Paris, during 1661. But De Villiers had been beforehand with him here, having produced his tragi-comÉdie with the same title and almost verbal identity in 1659 at the theatre of the HÖtel de Bourgogne. 99 Don Juan's afflicted father, exposed to the insolence of his son and the mockery of the servant, appears quite at the beginning of the piece. Afterwards Don Juan changes clothes with his servant Philippin in order to elude justice, robs a monk of his cowl, and in this disguise slays Don Philippo (Ottavio), the lover of Amarillis (Donna Anna). After the Commandant has supped with him and invited him, Don Juan again seduces a newly married woman, and then repairs to the chapel, where he is struck by lightning as he sits at table.

MoliÈre did not neglect so promising a subject for the use of his company, and his "Don Juan, ou le Festin de Pierre" was first performed at the Palais-Royal on February 15, 1665. In contrast with the buffoonery of the Italians he has tried to raise the subject into the sphere of genuine comedy, and has thereby obliterated the last trace of the national-historical character of the drama in its Spanish form. Both sensual passion and chivalric boldness have disappeared. MoliÈre's "Don Juan" is a cold-blooded egotist in his love and his want of faith, an enlightened rationalist, even when preserving his honour as a cavalier with personal bravery; his servant Sganarelle reasons as morally as his master immorally, but is quite as great an egotist, and a coward into the bargain. The striking situations, in which the original was so rich, are either merely related, as in the case of the seduction of Donna Anna and the murder of the Commenda-tore, or they have lost all their lively colouring by a new turn, as in the case of the adventures with the fisher-girl and the peasant; everything that might shock or injure the MOLIÈRE'S "FESTIN DE PIERRE." refined tone of comedy was omitted. On the other hand, the interests of morality required that every opportunity for repentance and amendment should be given to Don Juan; the more he is preached at from every quarter, the more obstinate he becomes in his evil courses. The truthfulness of psychological development thus striven after makes the catastrophe all the more glaringly absurd; such a sinner as this could not be carried off by a ghost. As a compromise, MoliÈre makes Don Juan to be warned by a spirit in the form of a woman, who is transformed into an appearance of Time with his scythe; this was an allegory quite after the taste of the time, and rendered the marble guest a superfluity. Some of the situations, such as the adventure in the country, or the scene with the merchant, are excellently rendered, and delicate traits of characterisation are always to be found; in fact, the better a point is, the less it is found to have to do with the original "Don Juan." MoliÈre's "Don Juan" was not printed during his life, and was only played fifteen times. A versified adaptation of it by Thomas Corneille, given in 1677, was well received, and kept the stage until 1847, when MoliÈre's comedy was again substituted. 100

Incited by MoliÈre's example, Goldoni produced the "mauvaise piÈce espagnole," which he could not contemplate without horror, at Venice in 1736, in the worthier form of a regular comedy entitled "Don Giovanni Tenorio, ossia il Dissoluto":—

In the first act, Donna Anna obeys her father against her will, and is betrothed to Don Ottavio. The second act shows Elisa, a peasant girl, taking leave of her lover Carino. Immediately after Don Juan appears, plundered by robbers, and gains her favour. Carino surprises them bidding farewell, but Elisa appeases his jealousy. Isabella, who has been deserted by Don Juan in Naples, follows him disguised as a man. In the third act she enters Seville with Ottavio, whom she has delivered from the hands of robbers on the way hither. When Donna Anna discovers her sex, she makes it the excuse for renouncing Ottavio's hand. Isabella, meeting Don Juan, forces him to fight with her; but, refusing from shame to give the standers-by any account of herself, she is pronounced by Don Juan to be a maniac. Elisa also DON GIOVANNI. pursues Don Juan, but he is warned against her by Carino, to whom she has been faithless. Don Juan declares himself ready to give her up, but Carino will have none of her. In the fourth act, Don Juan makes declaration of love to Donna Anna, who is not unfavourably disposed towards him, but refers him to her father for consent. He seeks, however, with drawn sword to gain her favour on the spot; she calls for help; her father hastens in, and is slain by Don Juan, who then escapes. It is resolved to pursue him and to seek redress against him from the King. In the fifth act Elisa promises to liberate him, having relatives among the guards, if he will marry her. Isabella interposes and renews her challenge to him to fight. Donna Anna, in mourning robes, calls for vengeance, but Don Juan displays so much passion for her that she relents and pardons him. Thereupon comes a letter from the King of Naples, demanding Don Juan's punishment, and disclosing Isabella's secret. Don Juan, seeing himself hopelessly lost, beseeches Carino to slay him. A thunderbolt from the mausoleum of the murdered Commendatore strikes him dead.

Goldoni asserts 101 that the public were astonished at first, and did not know "Ce que voulait dire cet air de noblesse que l'auteur avait donnÉ À une ancienne bouffonnerie." But it soon became known that the coquettish Elisa was an actual portrait of the actress, Elizabeth Passalacqua, who played the part, and that Goldoni had chosen this way of being revenged on her for bestowing her favours simultaneously on him and on the actor Vitalba. This roused interest in the piece, and convinced people "que le comique raisonnÉ Était prÉfÉrable au comique trivial." Rosimond looked at the subject from quite another point of view in his tragi-comÉdie "Le Festin de Pierre, ou l'AthÉiste FoudroyÉ," produced in 1669 at the ThÉÄtre du Marais. This theatre was then noted for its brilliant decoration and spectacle pieces, which often necessitated high prices of admission. Such a piece was this of Rosimond's, and he had been careful to lay the plot in heathen times, that his atheism might vaunt itself with impunity. 102 Again, in 1746, "Le Grand Festin de Pierre" was given in Paris as a pantomime, 103 and has always been popular on village and marionette stages.

DON JUAN IN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.

In England also "Don Juan" was put on the stage at about the same time. Whether in his "Libertine Destroyed," which was produced in 1676, Thomas Shadwell followed the Spanish original or the French or Italian version, I cannot pretend to determine. The piece was very successful, but Don Juan's villainy was so dreadful, and the piece altogether so horrible, "as to render it little less than impiety to represent it on the stage." 104 In 1725 Antonio de Zamora, Chamberlain to King Philip V. of Spain, adapted the same subject under the title, "Non hay deuda que no se pague y convi-dado de piedra." "This adaptation, displaying much talent and skill, is cast almost in the same form as the opera; the earlier adventures of Don Juan in Naples are omitted, and Zamora, like the author of the libretto, begins with the murder of the Commandant." 105 In Germany, "Don Juan, oder das Steinerne Gastmahl," belonged to the standing repertory of the improvising actor from the beginning of the eighteenth century. Prehauser, the celebrated buffoon of the Vienna Theatre, made his first dramatic attempt in 1716 as Don Philippo in the "Steinerne Gastmahl." 106 Schroder appeared in Hamburg, in 1766, as Sganarell in "Don Juan," and "surpassed all expectation." 107 This may have been a version of MoliÈre's "Don Juan," but as early as 1746 an afterpiece entitled "Don Juan" was on the repertory of Ackermann's Company, 108 and in 1769 the pantomime ballet of "Don Juan" was given by them. 109 At Vienna, up to 1772, an improvised "Steinerne Gastmahl" was regularly given during the octave of All Souls; 110 a proof that Don Juan's dissolute life was contemplated with pleasure, and that morality was considered as abundantly vindicated by his being carried off by the devil after a long penitential DON GIOVANNI. speech. 111 The traditions of this burlesque degenerate into a mere puppet-show. "Hanswurst" becomes the chief personage, and Don Juan's love adventures are made subservient to his deeds of blood; both the names and situations point to the French version of the Italian piece as the principal source, but many additions have been made, and these, for the most part, not happy ones. 112

It was in Paris that the first attempt was made to treat "Don Juan" operatically. In the year 1713, Le Tellier produced "au jeu d'Octave," a comic opera "Le Festin de Pierre," in three acts, and "en vaudevilles sans prose" at the ThÉÄtre de la Foire Saint-Germain. 113 It was well received, but exception being taken to the representation of hell at the conclusion of the opera, it was suppressed; but a few days after, we are told, "Le magistrat, mieux informÉ, rÉvoqua cette sentence." 114 The piece followed the old lines, only a few new jokes were introduced; and the language of the couplets, judging by the specimens which are given, must have been tolerably free.

A ballet of "Don Juan," with music by Gluck, was performed in Vienna in 1761. 115 The programme indicates four divisions, each of them containing an important situation, worked out and enlivened by means of different dances.

GLUCK'S BALLET, "DON JUAN."

Unfortunately we have no hints as to the details of the music, which consists for the most part of short and unelaborated dance melodies:—

In the first division, Don Juan serenades his mistress, Donna Anna, and is admitted by her; surprised by her uncle, he escapes into the street, and slays his pursuer. In the second division, Don Juan is giving a feast, at which Donna Anna is present, and dances, a pas de deux with him; the appearance of the statue scares away the guests. After a short stay, the Commendatore invites Don Juan, who accepts, and conducts him to the door. In the meantime the guests reassemble, but seized with fresh terror, rush from the house; Don Juan prepares to seek the Commendatore alone, his servant, spite of threats and persuasions, refusing to accompany him. The third part takes place in the mausoleum; the Commendatore tries vainly to bring Don Juan to repentance, and finally plunges him into the abyss. In the last division, Don Juan is tormented by demons in the lower world; he strives in vain to escape or to resist, and at last, in despair, he resigns himself and is devoured by the flames. 117

Ten years before Mozart's "Don Giovanni," a dramma tragicomico, entitled "Ü Convitato di Pietra, ossia il Dissoluto," was performed both at Vienna (first on August 21,1777) and at Prague; the composer was Vine. Righini. 118 The plot is briefly as follows: 119 —

The fisher maiden Elisa, and her lover Ombrino, save Don Giovanni and his servant Arlechino from the waves. Don Giovanni, who has betrayed Isabella, daughter of the Duca d'Altamonte, in Naples, and is a fugitive in consequence, readily wins the love of the too-confiding Elisa. The Commendatore di Loioa, returning from victorious war, is greeted by Don Alfonso in the name of the King of Castile, who has erected a statue to his honour, and promises to wed his daughter Donna Anna to the Duca Ottavio. Donna Anna, in defiance of her father's threats, refuses the honour. Don Giovanni, whose crime and flight have been made known to Don Alfonso, enters with Arlechino the house of the Commendatore, where Donna Anna, having dismissed her maid Lisette, is preparing to retire to rest. He offers her violence, which she resists, and recognises him; thereupon enters the Commendatore and falls in DON GIOVANNI. combat with Don Giovanni. Donna Anna vows vengeance on the murderer. In the second act Don Giovanni determines to flee, and orders Arlechino to be ready in the tavern, and to order a meal. Isabella, who has pursued Don Giovanni, extorts from Don Alfonso a promise of reparation. Don Giovanni, seized with remorse, takes refuge in the mausoleum, and falls asleep near the statue of the Commendatore. There he is found by the sorrowing Anna, whose love and pity he seeks in vain to kindle. Arlechino summons him to the tavern, where all is prepared; he invites the statue to be his guest, and is sorely perplexed by the answer given. Arlechino in the tavern makes love to the hostess Corallina. Donna Anna receives from Don Alfonso the assurance of the speedy pursuit and punishment of Don Giovanni. The latter sups with Arlechino, waited upon by Corallina and Tiburzio; he toasts the approving audience, Arlechino and the pretty maids, in German verse! The statue appears, but does not eat, invites Don Giovanni and disappears; the meal is continued with the utmost composure. In the third act, Don Giovanni is the guest of the Commendatore in the mausoleum; he refuses to repent, and is cast into the abyss. Don Alfonso and Donna Anna are acquainted by Arlechino of this consummation. Don Giovanni is seen tormented by demons.

The libretto differs neither in design nor execution from that of an ordinary opera buffa.

In 1787 "Il Convitato di Pietra," by Gius. Gazzaniga, was given in Venice at the Teatro di S. MosÈ, and was received with much applause. The opera was given in Ferrara, Bergamo, 120 and Rome, "every evening for a month, till no one was satisfied who had not seen Don Juan roasting in hell, and the late lamented Commandant rising to heaven as a disembodied spirit"; 121 it was played in Milan, 1789; in Paris, 1791, where, however, in spite of the brilliant concluding scene, it was only moderately successful, 122 and in London (notwithstanding Da Ponte's contradiction) in 1794. 123 The libretto is lost, but fragments of a score which Sonnleithner discovered in Vienna 124 show that Da Ponte GAZZANIGA's "CONVITATO DI PIETRA." must have made liberal use of this libretto, 125 if, indeed, the two have not a common source:—.

Pasquariello is reluctantly keeping watch before the house of the Commandant, when Don Giovanni rushes out, and strives to free himself from Donna Anna, who snatches the mask from his face and calls her father to help; he appears and falls in combat, a terzet for the men closing the introduction [there is no overture]. After some little talk, Don Giovanni flies with Pasquariello. Donna Anna hastens in with her betrothed Duca Ottavio, and finds to her horror the corpse of her father [accompanied recitative]; more composedly she acquaints him with Don Giovanni's villany, and declares her intention of retiring to a nunnery until Ottavio shall have discovered and punished the murderer [air], 126 to which he consents sorrowfully [air]. Don Giovanni, waiting for Donna Eximena in a casino, converses with Pasquariello, when Donna Elvira enters in travelling guise; she has been deceived and deserted by Don Giovanni in Burgos, and has followed him hither [air]. They recognise each other, Don Giovanni refers her to Pasquariello for the motives of his departure, and goes out. Pasquariello gives her the list of his master's mistresses [air]; she vows to gain justice or be avenged. Don Giovanni enters in loving converse with Eximena, and satisfies her jealous doubts of his fidelity [air]. A peasant couple, Biagio and Maturina, are celebrating their wedding [chorus and tarantella]. Pasquariello pays court to the bride, but on the entrance of Don Giovanni retires; and Don Giovanni treats the bridegroom so rudely that he finally goes off in dudgeon [air]. Don Giovanni befools Maturina by flattery and a promise of marriage. Two scenes are wanting here (14 and 15). Biagio enters in jealous mood, but is appeased by Maturina [scena and rondo]. Eximena questions Pasquariello concerning his master, and rejoices to learn that he is constant to her [air]. Don Giovanni is besieged with questions by Donna Elvira, Eximena, and Maturina all at once, and satisfies each in turn by assuring her that love for him has turned the brains of the other two. 127 Duca Ottavio is discovered in the mausoleum adding the inscription to the statue which the Commandant had erected to himself in his lifetime. Don Giovanni enters with Pasquariello to view the monument, and obliges the latter to invite the statue [duet]. The cook Lanterna attends Don Giovanni; Elvira comes and meets him returning with Pasquariello; she exhorts him earnestly to repent, but he scornfully refuses, whereupon she leaves him DON GIOVANNI. and retires to a nunnery. Don Giovanni proceeds to sup merrily [concertino]; Pasquariello eats with him, and Lanterna wait upon them; they toast the town of Venice and its lovely women. 128 A knock is heard, and, to the horror of the two servants, the Commandant appears. Don Giovanni bids him welcome, and orders Pasquariello to serve him; he accepts the Commandant's invitation, giving him his hand on it, but rejects his exhortation to repentance, and is delivered over to the demons. 129

A "Convitato di Pietra," by Tritto, is known to me only through FÉtis, who places it in the year 1783. 130

A wealth of material, which made the task of selection difficult, left Da Ponte no necessity to task his invention for his libretto. 131 We have no means of ascertaining how deep or how extensive were his previous studies, 132 but even compared with Gazzaniga's libretto, which he closely followed for the greater part of the first act and the second finale, we cannot fail to recognise his superiority in the arrangement of the plot, in the delineation of character, and in the grouping of situations for musical treatment, especially in the ensembles. His discrimination in the selection of material was also very just. He saw clearly that if the spectral apparition was to have its due effect it must be set in vivid contrast with the representation of actual life, with all its impulses of passion, of love, hate, or despair, of humour and merriment. He cannot be said to have cast the magic of true poetry over his work, nor has it the knightly tone of the Spanish original, but he has endowed DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. his characters with the easy pleasure-loving spirit of the time; and the sensual frivolity of life at Venice or Vienna is mirrored in every page of his "Don Giovanni." The language displays a versatility almost amounting to gracefulness; and, remembering to what a low level of vulgarity the treatment of the subject had been brought, we shall be the more ready to recognise the effort to raise the dialogue to a more sensible and refined standard. Da Ponte was right in placing the main points on which the action turns upon the stage, and in furnishing the composer with a number of musically effective situations, in which the elements of tragedy and comedy, of horror and merriment, meet and mingle together. This curious intermixture of ground-tones, which seldom allows; expression to any one pure and unalloyed mood, is the special characteristic of the opera. Mozart grasped the unity of these contrasts lying deep in human nature, and expressed them so harmoniously as to open a new province to his art, for the development of which its mightiest forces were henceforward to be concentrated. Great as has been the progress of music in the expression of this inner life of man since Mozart's time, he has not yet been surpassed in his power of creating living forms instinct with artistic beauty, and endowed with perfect dramatic truth. When Goethe declared that Mozart would have been the man to compose his "Faust," 133 he was thinking of "Don Giovanni"; but it could scarcely have been the merely external manipulation of the plot, however skilful, which directed his opinion. With the instinctive certainty of genius he felt the universality of Mozart's conception and representation of humanity, and acknowledged him as his equal on what was, in his judgment, a far more extensive field than this.

The commencement of the opera 134 sets us at once in the midst of the action: the passionate intensity of the first DON GIOVANNI. scene, the villainy which is practised before our eyes, prepare us for the deep shadow which is to fall on the picture of reckless pleasure-seeking, and for its horrifying conclusion; nor is the humorous element altogether absent:—

Leporello is discovered keeping impatient watch for his master, who soon appears, pursued by Donna Anna, and vainly striving to break loose from her. Her cries for help bring the Commendatore, her father, who challenges the insolent intruder to fight, and falls by Don Giovanni's sword, to the consternation of the latter and of Leporello. Neither scorn nor mockery are expressed in the words, "Ah! gia cade il sciagurato," and the music is as far from such sentiments as the words. Da Ponte has sagaciously shown traits of natural human sentiment in Don Giovanni, and Mozart has not let these escape him. But he has no time to waste in regrets; he takes to flight, and immediately after Donna Anna returns with her affianced lover, Don Ottavio; she swoons at sight of the corpse, and as soon as she returns to herself makes Don Ottavio swear vengeance on the murderer.

Don Giovanni, deaf to Leporello's reproaches, is confiding to him that he is in pursuit of a new adventure, 135 when a lady enters. This is Donna Elvira, whom he has deceived and deserted in Burgos, and who has followed him to claim his promise of marriage; he approaches her, and is consternated on seeing who she is. She overwhelms him with reproaches, and he refers her to Leporello for explanations and excuses, taking the opportunity of slipping away himself; Leporello, for her consolation, displays a list of his master's love intrigues, which he carries about with him. Enraged at this fresh insult, she resolves to sacrifice her love for her unfaithful lover to her thirst for vengeance.

Masetto and Zerlina, with their village friends, are celebrating their wedding in the neighbourhood of Don Giovanni's casino, whither he has repaired by preconcerted arrangement. Zerlina's fresh loveliness attracts him; and, making acquaintance with the bridal party, he invites them all into his casino, but soon drives out Masetto, whose jealousy he has excited; and is on the point of winning Zerlina by his flattery and declarations of love when Elvira steps between them, warns Zerlina, and (spite of Don Giovanni's whispered protestation that she is a poor maniac in love with him and mad with jealousy) carries off the peasant maiden. 136 To Don Giovanni, thus left alone, enter Donna Anna and Ottavio, who greet him as a friend of the family, and claim his DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. assistance in discovering the murderer and bringing him to justice; while he is conversing with Donna Anna, Elvira again interposes and warns her that he is a hypocrite. He again secretly represents her as a maniac who must be humoured, 137 and goes out with her. Donna Anna's suspicions are aroused, and observing Don Giovanni closely, she recognises her father's murderer in him, acquaints Don Ottavio with the circumstances, and urges him to avenge her father's death. Unwilling to give easy credence to such a grave accusation, he decides to examine thoroughly into the affair, and to clear up the doubts as to Don Giovanni. The latter, disembarrassed of Donna Elvira, commands a banquet to be prepared in honour of the bridal party. Masetto, whom Zerlina has with difficulty appeased by her coaxing endearments, conceals himself when he sees Don Giovanni approaching; after some demure behaviour on Zerlina's part, Masetto comes forward, and Don Giovanni, with quick presence of mind, persuades them both to accompany him into the house for the banquet. Donna Anna and Don Ottavio enter with Elvira, who has explained everything to them, and at her instigation they all put on masks, in order to observe Don Giovanni without being recognised; Leporello, perceiving them, conveys the expected invitation to enter, which they accept. It was at that time customary in Venice to go about masked, and strangers thus disguised were invited to enter where any festivities were going on, thus heightening the frolic of the masquerade. As they enter the hall, there is a pause in the dance; the guests take refreshment, Don Giovanni devotes himself to Zerlina, and Masetto, his jealousy again aroused, seeks to warn her; then the masked strangers become the centre of observation, are politely greeted, and the dance begins again. Donna Anna and Don Ottavio tread a minuet, the dance of the aristocracy; 138 Donna Anna with difficulty restrains her conflicting emotions, which vent themselves in occasional interjections, while Don Ottavio exhorts her to remain calm. Elvira follows every movement of Don Giovanni; the latter invites Zerlina to dance, and Leporello forces Masetto to dance with him in order to distract his attention from Zerlina. At the right moment Don Giovanni carries off Zerlina. Leporello hurries after to warn him; her cries for help are heard, and all rush to her rescue. Don Giovanni meets them, dragging in Leporello, whom he gives out to be the culprit, and threatens with death; but he is surrounded on all sides, the masks are thrown off, and he finds himself in the midst of his victims, DON GIOVANNI. intent on revenge. For one moment his presence of mind forsakes him and he is at a loss how to extricate himself, but his courage speedily returns, and he boldly and irresistibly makes his way through his enemies.

This momentary dismay and confusion is psychologically correct, and brings an important feature into the situation, which Mozart has effectively seized in his musical characterisation of it. Don Giovanni and Leporello, with the storm of voices surging round them, sing sotto voce; and highly characteristic is the submission to Leporello's opinion to which Don Giovanni here condescends. Only with the words "Ma non manca in me corraggio" does he gather his senses together, and strike at once a different key, in which Leporello cannot follow him. 139

The first act must be allowed to have a well-constructed and interesting plot, but the second consists of situations without cohesion or connection, although capable of being made musically very effective. It wants a leading motive to hold the parts together, the incessant pursuit of Don Giovanni not by any means answering the purpose; the comic tone also degenerates into coarseness:—

Don Giovanni, having appeased the incensed Leporello with money and fair words, confides to him that he is courting Elvira's pretty wait-ing-maid, and changes clothes with him in order to gain easier access to her. This is scarcely accomplished when Elvira appears at the window. In order to get out of the affair with a good grace, Don Giovanni renews his addresses to her with pretended passion, and she is weak enough to give ear to him. Leporello, in his disguise, accepts and answers her protestations of love, until Don Giovanni, making a noisy entrance, drives them both away; then with a tender song he strives to entice the waiting-maid to appear. Masetto then enters armed, with several friends, to call Don Giovanni to account; the supposed Leporello undertakes to put them on the right track, but cleverly contrives to disperse and dismiss them, wheedles Masetto out of his weapons, beats him soundly, and escapes. Masetto's cries bring Zerlina to the spot, and she seeks to console him with loving caresses.

In the meantime Leporello and Elvira have taken refuge in an antechamber; Leporello tries to slip away, while Elvira beseeches him not to leave her alone in the dark. He is on the point of escaping when DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. Don Ottavio enters with Donna Anna, endeavouring to calm her sorrow; Elvira and Leporello each try to escape unobserved, but Zerlina and Masetto intercept them. The supposed Don Giovanni is taken to account on the spot; in vain does Elvira petition for him, to the general astonishment; at last Leporello discovers himself, and after many excuses and explanations makes good his escape. Don Ottavio, now no longer doubting that Don Giovanni is the murderer of the Com-mendatore, announces his intention of proceeding against him in a court of justice, and begs his friends to console his betrothed until he shall have accomplished his design.

Don Giovanni awaits Leporello's arrival at the foot of the monument erected to the Commendatore, and laughingly relates his latest adventure; an invisible voice twice utters words of warning. He becomes aware of the presence of the statue, and makes Leporello read the inscription on it: "I here await the chastisement of my ruthless murderer." In arrogant contempt of Leporello's horror he forces the latter to invite the statue to supper; the statue nodding its head. Don Giovanni calls upon it to answer, and on its distinctly uttering the word "Yes" he hastens away in consternation.

Don Ottavio strives anew to console Donna Anna, and at last begs for her hand in marriage: she explains that, though her heart consents to his prayer, her mourning for her father compels her to postpone its fulfilment. This scene gives rise to a suspicion of having been inserted in Prague after the completion of the opera, in order to give the singer a final air. The situation is repeated at the close of the finale, and is not here in accordance with Don Ottavio's previous appearances. Don Giovanni, seated at his richly appointed table, eats and jokes with the greedy Leporello. This scene, which was always made the occasion for broad jesting between master and servant, has been turned by Mozart into musical fun and by-play. Don Giovanni's private musicians play favourite airs from the newest operas. At the first bar Leporello cries "Bravi! 'Cosa Rara!'" It is the last movement of the first finale from Martin's "Cosa Rara": "O quanto un si bel giubilo," which was then in every one's mouth; and the parody was a very happy one. Just as in Martin's opera the discontented lovers are contrasted with the more favoured ones, on whom their mistresses have been bestowed before their eyes, so here the hungry Leporello contrasts with the gormandising Don Giovanni, and the music might have been made for them. The second piece is greeted by Leporello with "Evvivano! 'I Litiganti!'" It is Mingone's favourite air from Sarti's opera, "Fra Due Litiganti il Terzo gode" (Act I., 8), the same on which Mozart had written variations (Vol. II., p. 345), the then familiar words of which—

DON GIOVANNI.

were comically appropriate to the snuffling Leporello. 140 The apparent malice which induced Mozart to parody favourite pieces from operas which were avowedly rivals of his own (the impression being immensely heightened by the humorous instrumentation caricaturing arrangements for harmony music), is rendered in some degree excusable by his having included himself in the joke. When the musicians strike up "Non piÙ andrai," Leporello exclaims: "Questa poi la conosco pur troppo!" Thus Mozart expressed his gratitude to the people of Prague for their enthusiastic reception of "Figaro." 141

To this merry pair enters Elvira. She has overcome her love, and intends entering a cloister, but wishes to make one more effort to bring Don Giovanni to repentance; but her representation being met only with easy contempt, she angrily leaves him. She is heard to utter a shriek without. Leporello hastens after her, and returns in horror: the statue of the Commendatore is at the door; it knocks, and Don Giovanni has to go himself to open it, and to conduct his marble guest to a seat. The statue rejects all hospitality, and asks Don Giovanni if he is prepared to return the visit; on his answering in the affirmative, he grasps him by the hand, and calls upon him to repent. Don Giovanni repeatedly and defiantly refuses, and the statue leaves him; night comes on, flames burst from the earth, invisible spirit voices are heard, demons surround Don Giovanni, who sinks into the abyss. Don Ottavio and Donna Anna, Elvira, Masetto and Zerlina enter to drag the offender to justice, but find that human revenge has been anticipated; Leporello, who has witnessed the dreadful scene with every sign of horror, relates his master's fearful end. Relieved from anxiety, and restored to their natural relations, they unite in the words of the "old song"—

No doubt the serious moral appended to the gay and easygoing tone of the opera was a reminiscence of the custom of considering the piece, on account of its ready practical application, as a sort of religious drama; the music takes the same tone towards the end. We can scarcely conceive that it was with a view to the moral effect alone that Da Ponte so contrived the plot that Don Giovanni should fail in each GERMAN ADAPTATIONS. of the love adventures in which he engages; there can be no question that the cheerful tone which runs through the whole opera depends chiefly on the repulses with which the hero is continually met on the field of his heroic deeds. It is true that some of the passionate force which distinguishes the Spanish drama is thereby sacrificed, but, on the other hand, the murders and low crimes which were heaped up in the German burlesques of "Don Giovanni" also disappeared, and the concentration of the action dispensed with a number of ill-connected and licentious scenes. Unfortunately the German adaptations have made a concession to the popular taste in retaining the accustomed Carnival frolic, which has nothing whatever in common with Da Ponte's "Don Giovanni"—to say nothing of Mozart. Only of late has this deformity been occasionally removed by the introduction of the original recitative in its stead. 142 But, apart from this, the current German version not only misses the easy, often striking and graceful style of the Italian verses, and spoils the melodious flow of the words; it even distorts the sense, and puts into the mouths of the singers sentiments foreign alike to the situation and to the music. 143

But whatever merit Da Ponte's libretto may claim, it claims chiefly as having given occasion to Mozart's music; (527 K.). One is accustomed to consider the libretto of an opera as the canvas on which the composer is to work DON GIOVANNI. his embroidery; it might in this case almost be compared to the frame on which the sculptor erects and models his statue, so completely is the endowment of the opera with body and soul the actual and exclusive work of Mozart. 144 The very overture 145 shows at once that something more is to be expected than the usual fun of opera buffa. Mozart must have strongly felt the necessity for a grave and solemn introduction, and has therefore selected the usual French form of overture, consisting of a slow introduction followed by an allegro. The andante is taken from the opera itself. We have the principal subjects of the spectral apparition (as it were, the musical expression of the old title "Il Con-vitato di Pietra"), indicating at the very commencement the culminating point of the opera, and fixing its ground-tone. 146 After a few introductory chords, clear, solemn sounds are heard like an apparition from heaven, spreading around a feeling of disquiet and strangeness, swelling into fear and horror. It is interesting to note how the ascending and descending scales, which, like the mysterious rustling of the THE OVERTURE. breeze, produce a kind of cold shudder in the hearer, were first brought clearly before Mozart's mind during the performance of the ghost scene. In the finale, where they first occur (p. 271), they were wanting in the original score; Mozart inserted them subsequently, and, room being scarce, wrote them in diminutive little notes, which often extend into the following bar; but the second time they occur, and in the overture, they are duly written down. The allegro is exclusively suggestive of the main features of the story; and an eager, irrepressible force, "which is intoxicated with the lust for enjoyment, and in enjoyment pines for lust," penetrates the whole, sometimes in accents of keen pain—[See Page Images] and hot desire, sometimes with exultation and wild delight. 147 The grave cry of warning which interrupts the eager movement—is answered, as if in frivolous mockery, by an easy playful passage—[See Page Images]

and then the contrasting elements are worked out with a wealth of harmonious and contrapuntal detail. Mozart is said to have borrowed both the subject and its imitation from DON GIOVANNI. a canon by StÖlzel. 148 But a glance at the bars which are adduced to prove this—[See page Image]

will show what a keen hunt after plagiarism is required to find any borrowed idea in this imitative disposition of parts, common to many old church compositions. But here again Mozart has turned one of the resources of musical construction into a development of a psychological idea. How deeply suggestive it is that the warning cries should be heard woven into the imitations, dying into tender, almost melancholy entreaty, and finally, as the mocker seems determined to treat it all as a jest, rising into an awful call to repentance, sounding again and again with a force that penetrates into the very marrow of one's bones! Again, how truly conceived is the harmonic transition at the close, by means of which this warning motif cuts short with the seventh the jubilation at its very highest pitch, then dies away into gentle notes of remonstrance, and so gradually calms the hearer, and prepares him for what is to follow! 149

The opera begins by introducing us to the only really comic character it contains, and thus in a measure fulfils the anticipations excited by the overture. The typical character of the comic servant, which in "Don Juan" had passed through the successive stages of Gracioso, Arlecchino, Sganarelle, Hanswurst, and Kasperle, here attained to perfection as far as opera buffa is concerned. Leporello is a creation unique of its kind; but since in every branch of art gifted minds, however original, draw from a common source, so Leporello, LEPORELLO. striking as is his individuality, is developed out of the traditions of opera buffa. The distinctive character of the opera depends upon his intimate connection with all the situations and all the persons. It would not suffice for the due blending of the contrasting elements that Leporello should scatter jests in season and out of season on every conceivable topic; it was only by rendering all his acts and expressions consistent with his character that they could be made to react upon the situations and persons which brought them forth. He has a distinct personality, with his own way of thinking and feeling, and his own way of expressing himself. The boldness with which his essentially comic nature is brought into conflict with passions and events which sound the very depths of the human heart transports us to the highest province of humour. This is especially observable in his relations to his master, with whom he is at once in sympathy and in striking contrast.

He has the same desire for enjoyment and display, the same laxity of moral judgment, the same tendency to treat serious matters in a mocking spirit; he does not want ability either, but fails altogether in just those qualities which keep alive our interest in Don Giovanni—in strength and courage: his cowardice betrays itself on every occasion. While Don Giovanni is on the look-out for every adventure, however daring, and extricates himself from every peril, however imminent, Leporello is always pressed into the service, is utterly helpless in any contingency, and escapes finally only by virtue of his cowardice. This contradiction between his nature and his surroundings is all the more entertaining since he himself is perfectly aware of it. We learn his character from the very first. He is in high dudgeon at being forced to mount guard outside while his master is enjoying himself within, and marches impatiently up and down; but as he marches, proud thoughts of future grandeur take possession of his soul. "Voglio far il gentiluomo"—he might almost be taken for a cavalier. Suddenly he hears a noise. He is no longer the grand gentleman, but gives vent to abject fear in his terrified babble, as Don Giovanni wrestles with Donna Anna. When the danger grows serious, and the Commendatore falls, he is seized with horror, but DON GIOVANNI. although the moral shock is great it is with actual physical fear that his teeth chatter. The whole sequence of characteristic expression in the scene receives its full significance only by contrast with Leporello's cowardice. Donna Anna's passion, which Don Giovanni is constrained to oppose with a force equal to her own; the dignified bearing of the Commendatore, forcing Don Giovanni at length reluctantly to draw the sword; 150 the duel 151 with its horrifying result—all these afford a rapid succession of exciting and harrowing points, scarcely leaving room for the comic element, which nevertheless is there, and kept actively before us without doing injury to the harmony of the whole. What a force of artistic expression is displayed in the eighteen bars of andante which close the introduction! The death which ends the pain of the Commendatore, the mingled pity and triumph of Don Giovanni, the horror and fear of Leporello, are blended into such harmony as to leave the mind—relieved from suspense—full of true emotion. The unusual combination of three bass voices seems as though expressly chosen for the serious tone of the situation; the stringed instruments accompany the voices in the simplest manner, with a few sustained notes for the horns and bassoons, and only in the concluding symphony do the oboes and flutes enter with a plaintive chromatic passage. Here burns truly the inextinguishable flame of genius! 152

To return to Leporello. The various ways in which his timorous nature expresses itself in different situations give occasion for the most interesting characterisation. He has least to do in the first finale, but he stands close by his master, who shields him in their common danger; in the THE SESTET—LEPORELLO. sestet, however, he shows himself in his full proportions. Willing as he is to take his master's place with Elvira, his fears do not suffer him to do it; and when he finds himself alone in the dark with her, in spite of her entreaties not to be left alone, his one anxiety is to escape. The contrast is excellently expressed between the bashfulness of Elvira and the terror of her cowardly interlocutor. Just as he is making off, Don Ottavio and Donna Anna enter, and he conceals himself. A rapid transition to another key, emphasised by the unexpected entry of drums and trumpets, transports us to a higher region, and an affectingly beautiful expression is given to the sorrow of a noble mind and the consolation of a loving heart. Elvira again takes part in the situation; she is full of anxiety for the supposed Don Giovanni, and the expression of her fear becomes more material, lowering her to the level of Leporello, who seeks anew to escape, and repeats his former motif, but more despondently, and in the minor key. Then Zerlina and Masetto enter and run against him, Don Ottavio and Donna Anna also become aware of his presence; and, to their intense surprise, Elvira interposes a petition for Don Giovanni. Her former motif expressive of anxiety is taken up and maintained by the orchestra, becoming the nucleus of the situation, the surprise of the other serving only to give light and shade. When her petition is finally rejected, Leporello throws off his disguise. His timidity has become mortal fear, he knows that his insignificance alone can shield him, and he cannot reiterate too strongly that he is in very truth Leporello, and not Don Giovanni. The general surprise at this discovery is of course expressed in far stronger fashion than that at Elvira's sudden change of mind. What is to be done? At first they are all at a loss. With regard to Leporello, though he has more or less injured some of them, their position is in common; he is not the Don Giovanni on whom they have vowed vengeance; their indignant amazement at the deceit practised on them unites them into a compact body, more occupied with their own feelings than anxious to punish Leporello. The latter thinks only of the DON GIOVANNI. danger which threatens him, and, try as he may to collect himself, fear gets possession of him; he mumbles to himself, cries aloud, and makes a final appeal for mercy before he runs away. The perplexity which seizes them all at the discovery of Leporello is the point of union of the situation; the truth and energy with which the nature of each person is expressed giving it the stamp of life and power. 153 Leporello's position is totally different when Don Giovanni arrogantly orders him to invite the statue of the Commendatore to sup with them (Act II., 9). The mysterious sounds which he has just heard, and the marble figure, terrify him; but his master threatens with drawn sword; one fear overmasters the other, and he now persuades himself to address the statue—now turns in terror to his master. The musical expression of fear by means of intervals of sevenths—[See Page Image]

but how characteristic is the difference between this cringing appeal for pity, and the former energetic cry extorted, as it might be, on the rack! The terror increases at each successive attempt to address the statue, while the energy of each address decreases, and dies away at last into a plaintive parlando. The orchestra at the same time adds the expression of insolent mockery, which is not less characteristic of the situation, in a playful but sharply accented DUET—LEPORELLO passage, wherein the flutes are made especially effective.

As soon as Leporello's fears are verified and the statue actually moves, he succumbs to his terror, and Don Giovanr^ steps forward. Fear is a stranger to him; he sees the statue nod its head, and demands a more distinct answer; he puts his question plainly and decidedly; the statue answers by "Si." Leporello behaves as though struck by a thunderbolt, and has no idea but flight; even Don Giovanni is affected, and feels the supernaturalness, but he retains his self-possession; and, in the expression of trembling haste with which it hurries on the conclusion, the orchestra mingles something of the humorous impression which is given by the unexpected dÉnouement of the situation. The harmonic construction is here masterly in the extreme. From the beginning ^ to this point only the principal key and the one next related to it have been used; but now the interrupted cadence upon C major transports us to another atmosphere, and the altered movement of the orchestra is expressive of energetic activity.

A few chords, however, lead Don Giovanni's questions at once back to the dominant of the principal key, and the forcible "Si" of the Commendatore answers with the tonic, the clear calm of which is destroyed at once by Leporello's C: the real conclusion is only arrived at circuitously. Very different in effect on both occasions is the occurrence of the same C in the bass. The first time, when C major follows decidedly on B major, it makes a fresh, elevating impression; the second time, when C follows the sustained E as the third below, and forms the basis for the chord of the third, fourth and sixth, it gives a shock to the ear. The vivid reality with which the two contrasting individualities are made to express themselves in so unusual a situation has necessitated the free form of the duet. Detached musical phrases, complete in themselves, follow the play of the emotions without the elaboration or repetition of any of the subjects; only Leporello's cry of terror recurs several times, and serves to a certain extent as a connecting link. Mozart has judiciously refrained from bringing the horror of a spectral apparition objectively before his hearers. Their imagination has been sufficiently worked upon by the DON GIOVANNI. awful and imposing words of the Commendatore, 154 and their attention ought not to be diverted from Don Giovanni and Leporello. The freedom which permits of a playful treatment of Leporello's double fear and of Don Giovanni's consternation reposes mainly on the half-light in which the ghostly element is viewed. The spectator is impelled to accept the mixture of the horrible as a flavouring to the humorous; he is not in the least absorbed by horror. As soon as the ghost appears bodily, he comes to the foreground and gives tone and colour to all the rest; it is of advantage to the effect that none of the resources of musical delineation are employed to heighten this point. The true economy of an artist not only concentrates his resources on one point, but finds its truest expression in his appearing to disdain their use at another. The main point here was the audible voice of the statue, and Mozart gave it no support but the vibration of the horn note; this necessitated the greatest simplicity in the whole musical rendering of the situation.

The appearance of the Commendatore in the last finale is led up to in truly masterly fashion. First we have the display of the luxurious living which has erased from Don Giovanni's mind all remembrance of what has passed. Leporello's greediness, with the jests upon it which were customary in this part of the piece, are made subservient to the more delicate humour of the table music. The entrance of Elvira heightens the situation, and the contrast of her deeply moved feelings and Don Giovanni's frivolous excitement introduces a new turn, and prepares for the catastrophe. Leporello feels, indeed, that Elvira is in the right, but dares not oppose his master, and so introduces no dissonant tone into the strongly marked character of this scene. But when the catastrophe draws near it is Leporello who, as he opened the action at the beginning of the opera, now announces the dread apparition at its close. All the THE COMMENDATORE. terror he has hitherto been a prey to is as nothing compared with his mortal anguish at the sight of the marble guest, and even to the commands of his master he answers only with cries of terror; we feel that, ludicrous as the gestures of the cowardly fellow may be, something must have happened that would have alarmed any one, however courageous. Then there enters the Commendatore, accompanied by! soul-harrowing sounds. 155 No human passion, no anger, no pity speaks from his awful tones: the inflexible decree of an eternal law is embodied in all its sublimity in music. The warning words pursue their measured course, now tarrying upon one note with varied chords, now moving in forcible intervals, the heavy weight accumulating till it threatens to annihilate the culprit. The orchestra is calmer and quieter even than before, but adds many finely shaded touches to the image of the apparition. At one time it strengthens the weighty tread of the sustained sounds by the sharp rhythm of dotted notes—then again it falls in dissonant chords upon strongly accented notes, or gives expression to the curdling horror which seizes the hearer, by means of rapid ascending and descending scales. In face of this dread apparition Don Giovanni summons all his strength together. At first, indeed he is consternated, and the orchestra gives expression to his horror; but he soon collects himself, becomes more and more decided as the Commendatore continues to urge him, the call to repentance serving merely as a challenge to his defiance: his fall is inevitable. Again, as at the first, the two stand opposite each other in deadly struggle, but now it is Don Giovanni who is forced to yield, powerless against the forces of the unseen world. Mozart has endued the awe-struck sublimity DON GIOVANNI. of this scene with noble beauty and force of climax, and has even ventured to invest it with something of a comic tone. Leporello's abject fear during such a conflict was a matter of course, but it would be foreign to his nature even under these circumstances, to be altogether silent. When, with chattering teeth and shaking limbs, he sings his triplets when, upon the Commendatore's question "Verrai?" he calls in deadly fear to his master—[See Page Image]

every one must feel how wofully in earnest the poor wretch is, and how he is ludicrous not of his own free will, but because he cannot help it. Every-day life shows how easily the sublime or the awful passes into the ridiculous, and how the incongruous emotion thus produced only strengthens the impression of horror; the blending of these contrasting elements into a true and living representation in art can only be accomplished by a great genius. There is scarcely anything in dramatic music which can compare in this respect with this scene of "Don Giovanni."

Leporello is not conscious of the ridicule he incurs by his cowardice, and in truth it forms but one feature in his character. His air (Act II., 7) following the sestet, in which he seeks to justify himself on all sides, looking out at the same time for an opportunity of escape, makes his cunning more apparent than his fear. He has collected his senses, and, convinced that once recognised he has nothing more to fear, he only seeks to fortify himself with excuses until he can escape. The air is therefore lighter and easier in tone, in strong contrasts, varying according to the quarters to which he addresses himself, but in no way elaborated, and coming to an end with a musical point charmingly expressive of the words. The moderated tone of the piece is of very good effect after the ponderous length of the sestet. Leporello is a dissipated, insolent fellow, but, little as his principles can stand before a threat or a bribe, he has not so completely emancipated himself from all moral restraint LEPORELLO—AIRS. as has his master. He has little scruple, however, in accepting his part in the villainies planned by Don Giovanni, who makes use of him chiefly to get rid of Elvira. In the celebrated air (Act I., 4) in which, professedly by way of consolation, he unrolls the list of his master's amours, he does not conceal the pleasure which the remembrance of the love adventures and the thought of the trick he is playing on Elvira afford him. In the first part the enumeration of the long list is made parlando, only here and there the accent is somewhat raised for effect, as at the famous "Ma in Ispagna son giÀ mille e trÈ"; but the orchestra, in lively motion all the time, betrays the reminiscence of jovial and licentious adventures which is passing through the mind of the speaker. He grows warmer over his description of his master's tastes and habits, and gives full expression to every detail, until his final malicious apostrophe, "Voi sapete quel che fa," is given with undisguised mockery.

Those who have heard how Lablache sang—[See Page Image]

Quel che fa under his breath, and a little through his nose, with an indescribable side glance at Elvira, can have an idea of the comic ill-nature which Mozart meant to throw into this conclusion.

The characterisation, appropriate in every detail and inimitable in its rendering of Leporello's secret complacency, 156 can only be rightly appreciated with the Italian words; the German translation is most faulty where the musical treatment demanded the strictest accuracy; the mode of expression, too, is purely Italian, sometimes only comprehensible in conjunction with Italian pantomime. When indeed he extols "nella bionda la gentilezza, nella DON GIOVANNI. bruna la costanza, nella bianca la dolcezza," the expression is universally applicable, and the grande maestoso rises plainly before the minds of all; but when we come to—[See Page Image]

the proper effect cannot be rendered in German. In the streets of any town in Italy it may be observed how, when anything is to be described as small, the person describing it repeats the word eight or ten times with great rapidity, lowering the hand by degrees nearer and nearer to the ground; and the action could not possibly be better indicated than in this place by Mozart. There is a similar effect in the terzet (Act II., 2) where Leporello cannot contain his laughter—[See Page Image]

Se se-gui-ta-te ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, ri-do, and the silent internal chuckle of the Italian is musically expressed to perfection. More especially has the rapid utterance, one of the principal devices of opera buffa, a totally different signification in Italian and German. It is not natural to the German, and appears either exaggerated or vulgar; it should therefore be seldom and carefully employed as a means of characterisation. For an Italian, on the contrary, rapid speech, for which his language is so well adapted, is the natural expression of excitement, and the only question for him is whether he shall give vent to his feelings or exercise control over them. In Italian opera it is used without scruple, and without in itself aiming at making a comic impression; the circumstances, persons engaged, and manner employed give the character of the piece. In the part of Leporello the rapid parlando has a very different expression in different situations, and can always be justified on psychological grounds. But it is by no means exclusively the characteristic of comic persons. In the first finale (Act I., 13) Masetto's rapid outpouring of jealous rage, Zerlina's fear and distress, are not intended to move the THE RAPID PARLANDO. audience to laughter; they merely give natural expression to their feelings, and it is the situation which produces the comic effect. These characters, it is true, belong to the lower classes, to whom some indulgence might be accorded in respect of good manners; but even Don Giovanni makes free use of his tongue when he ceases to exercise control over himself. In his intercourse with Leporello especially he allows much freedom to his servant, and lowers himself to the same level; this is of course made apparent in the musical expression, and various small indications of a free and easy tone of conversation have an extraordinary effect on the free and vivid conception of the whole. In the short duet (Act II., 1) in which he appeases the incensed Leporello, he expresses himself altogether after the manner of the latter, but it must be remembered that Leporello is really highly indignant, while Don Giovanni is only in joke all the time; in this contrast consists the comic point of the situation. Again, too, in the first finale, when he loses presence of mind for a moment, he falls into this rapid utterance with the words: "È confusa la mia testa," which, as soon as he has collected himself, ceases again with the words "ma non manca-in me coraggio." In the quartet (Act I.) the danger threatening him through Elvira excites him so greatly that in counselling her to be careful—"Siate un poco piÙ prudente"—the rapidity of his address betrays his own loss of self-control. There is something of a comic tone in this, but the gravity of the situation does not allow it to go beyond a mere shade, and even this rapid parlando ought not to assume a really buffo character. Elvira herself, with the unbridled passion of her nature, gives vent to her anger in winged words, which are certainly not calculated to produce a comic effect. Donna Anna, on the other hand, and Don Ottavio, persons of high birth and breeding, never so far lose command over themselves as to fall into this hurried speech. The quartet just mentioned is one of the finest instances of the quality and extent of Mozart's genius. The conversation between Donna Anna, Don Ottavio, and Don Giovanni is most unexpectedly interrupted by the warnings of Elvira; the two first are amazed, and uncertain what to make of it, DON GIOVANNI. while Don Giovanni, alarmed, seeks by deception to keep them in uncertainty, and to silence Elvira. All this gives rise to a genuinely musical variety of mood tinged with melancholy by the grief of Donna Anna and Don Ottavio. A most prominent feature of the whole is the skilful grouping. Donna Anna and Don Ottavio are inseparable, and form the nucleus of the piece; Elvira and Don Giovanni, though in opposition, are sometimes together, and sometimes in conjunction with the other two. The situation demands that Elvira shall be most frequently isolated, in contrast with the three remaining characters; and as her passionate excitement keeps her in the foreground, she gives the tone to the whole piece, and Don Giovanni is constrained to follow her, while Don Ottavio and Donna Anna only occasionally emerge from their mood of anxious contemplation. A touch of dramatic truth is the adoption by the orchestra and other voices of Elvira's motif to the words—[See Page Image]

so that it seems to be the key to the riddle forcing itself on the ear and betraying Don Giovanni's guilt. The motif recurs after all the reproaches, questions, and appeals, and dies away in gentle but pained reproach when the true position of affairs is left unexplained. The suspicion which here enters the mind of Donna Anna prepares the way for the conviction which forces itself upon her that Don Giovanni is the murderer of her father. The grouping of the voices is treated primarily as a means of psychological characterisation. The entrance of Elvira in the second finale gives Leporello a moral shock which brings him musically en rapport with Elvira, and their parts are therefore in correspondence; indeed, towards the end they are in close imitation 157 and opposed to that of Don Giovanni. In the DON GIOVANNI. terzet again (Act II., 2), Leporello is first associated with Don Giovanni and afterwards with Elvira, whom he begins by reviling, but who later arouses his sympathy, while Don Giovanni holds aloof from them both. This power of grouping the parts so that they shall serve the purposes of psychological and dramatic characterisation as well as of musical construction, is observable in every one of the ensemble pieces.

L. Bassi (1766-1825), who is described as an excellent and well-trained singer, and as a man of fine exterior and pleasing manners, 158 was, we are told, very much annoyed that, as the chief personage of the opera, he had no grand air to sing; this was probably felt by others as a blemish in the work. If the nature of Don Giovanni had at all resembled that of Faust, he could not have failed to give some expression to the mental conflict between sensuality and misanthropy on the one hand, and the impulses of his higher moral nature on the other; and such a conflict would have lent itself readily to musical representation. But Don Giovanni has no scruples of the kind; the gratification of his desires is his sole object, and to this he devotes himself in all the consciousness of his own strength. Danger entices him as calling forth his powers; he delights in jests which demonstrate his superiority to his victim, and sensual enjoyment is his only real object in life. He pursues it neither with the lust of a fiend nor with the passion of a strongly moved nature, but with a reckless abandonment to sensual impulses taking absolute possession of all his faculties, and so coming into momentary contact with the nobler capabilities which exist in every soul. Imposing strength, external refinement, a jovial and even humorous manner are, indeed, far from ennobling or dignifying such a character; but they render it less despicable, and reflect line for line the manners of the age which produced Tirso's "Don Juan" and Da Ponte's "Don Giovanni." Music, which in its very nature gives preference and expression to the emotional element of the human mind, DON GIOVANNI. was the only fitting exponent of such a creation in the world of art. 159 A nature such as that of Don Giovanni does not express itself in monologue, but in action, and we learn to know him almost exclusively in his relations to others. It is only when he is directing Leporello to prepare a costly banquet, and abandoning himself to the anticipation of the enjoyment it will afford him, that he gives musical expression to his excitement in an air, or rather in a Lied (Act I., 11). His mind is engrossed with the idea of the ball, and he predicts the situation which actually occurs in the finale; even the three different dances are mentioned by name:—

Starting with this idea, Mozart has given him a simple and very lively dance song to sing, in which nothing of the higher passions and still less either of demoniacal lust or noble sentiment can be traced, but only a very powerful expression of sensual impulse in a sort of fleeting paroxysm. The very pleasing and impressive melody, the simple harmony, the marked rhythm, and especially the instrumentation, all combine to produce a happy effect. The flutes and violins, which lead the melody almost without interruption, maintain the dance-like character of the song, and the uniformly rapid movement of the accompaniment produces a singular degree of excitement, enhanced by the strong accents of the wind instruments. So again, the digression into the minor key, making the sting of DON GIOVANNI—AIRS. unbridled passion to be felt in the very indulgence of it, is of very striking effect. The serenade (Act II., 3) is of a totally different character; Mozart has written Canzonetta against it. Don Giovanni here pours out the whole warmth of his feelings towards the fair one whose heart he hopes to win. The Italian version of the song has a national character both in rhythm and language; it is of little consequence whether Don Giovanni is supposed to be singing a well-known song, or improvising one. The irresistible, insinuating flattery of this song, the state of voluptuous longing which it expresses, have the same sort of effect upon us as the dazzling colour and intoxicating perfume of some rare exotic flower; there is nothing, even in Mozart, which can be compared to it. The effect of the charming melody, and of the well-chosen harmonies, is much enhanced by the pizzicato mandoline accompaniment supported by the stringed instruments. The tender, curiously vibrating tone of the metal strings of the mandoline seems inseparable from the sweet gracefulness of the song; the instrument was then in common use (Mozart has written several songs to the mandoline, Vol. II., p. 371, note), and its effect was thus all the more characteristic. 160

The only real air which Don Giovanni sings, he sings not as Don Giovanni; disguised as Leporello, he is giving Masetto and his companions directions for catching himself, and the musical characterisation must therefore approach burlesque. This air (Act II., 4), "MetÀ di voi qua vadano," belongs undoubtedly to those original conceptions which one admires without exactly understanding how they have been brought about. The situation in itself affords no proper musical impulse; it treats merely of the posting of scouts, of communication by signals, the speaker himself being thrown into a dubious light by reason of his disguise, and none DON GIOVANNI. but a great genius could have found in this place a nucleus round which to develop a musical masterpiece. The character of the piece is of course buffo, not only because Don Giovanni is playing the part of Leporello, but because he is himself thoroughly enjoying the trick he is playing Masetto; these motives must therefore be blended. It is only necessary to compare this song with those of Leporello (Act I., 4; II., 7), to appreciate the essential difference in their style. The rapidly spoken passages give a tone of vulgarity, which is relieved by occasional involuntary expressions of greater dignity; passages such as—[See Page Image]

could not have been sung by Leporello; they show us the cavalier beneath his disguise. In accordance with the situation the voice is kept parlando; and the orchestra to which the constructive detail is intrusted is so independently treated that it might without injury dispense with the voice, although each is in fact the necessary complement of the other. The mysterious importance and the apparent confidence of Don Giovanni, which form the fundamental motif of the situation when contrasted with the earnest attention and curiosity of the country people, are humorously conceived and the orchestra renders every turn of what is passing in the minds of all concerned. But, in spite of this, the musical characterisation can only be made fully effective by suitable pantomime on the part of all the characters, even of those who do not speak, except through the orchestra. Don Giovanni's true character, however, is not displayed until he comes in contact with the other, and more especially with the female, characters of the opera. His seductive powers are first practised towards Zerlina. She is represented as a simple village ZERLINA. maiden; and the little duet (Act I., 5) which she sings with her affianced lover amid the joyful acclamations of their friends, expresses innocent gladness in the simplest possible manner and with quite a popular tone. 161 Don Giovanni is the first to arouse sentiments which have hitherto slumbered unsuspected in her bosom. The simple peasant girl becomes an easy prey to the elegant man of the world; her vanity is flattered by his condescension, and his way of expressing the tender emotions excited in him by sensual gratification impresses Zerlina's innocent mind with a conviction of truthfulness, and rouses so irresistible a love towards him that all other considerations are cast into the shade. This is the main idea expressed in the duet (Act I., 6), wherein Don Giovanni makes speedy conquest of Zerlina's heart. The feeling of mutual satisfaction to which they both yield, as it has been preceded by no strife of passions, gives rise to an expression of unalloyed happiness cradled in softest, warmest sunlight. The second part was indeed required to contain more of fire and passion, but the truth of the characterisation has probably suffered thereby. Zerlina's nature is neither deep nor passionate, but light and impressionable; and Don Giovanni's chief weapon is his power of assimilating himself to the woman whom he designs to attract. This point has been made admirable use of by Mozart. 162 Such a broad psychological fact is, however, easy to represent; that which can neither be analysed nor reproduced is the effect of the tender intensity of the simple notes, which penetrate the soul like the glance of a loving eye.

At the second interview between the two the state of affairs is considerably modified. Zerlina has been warned by Elvira; she has just calmed Masetto's jealousy with some difficulty, and is aware that he overhears; she seeks, therefore, to repel DON GIOVANNI. Don Giovanni, though conscious that he has lost none of his old attraction for her. He knows this, and answers her petition for mercy with her own motif, whereby the love-making is as delicately characterised as immediately afterwards his astonishment at finding Masetto in ambush, and the quick presence of mind with which he ceremoniously greets him, whereupon Don Giovanni's own phrase is mockingly repeated by Masetto. The orchestra, after accompanying the lovers with strains as tender as their own, here gives inimitable expression to suppressed scorn and resentment. The dance music is heard, however, and relieves the strain; all except Zerlina feel the relief, and hasten within. As the festivities proceed, and Zerlina, watched by Masetto's jealous eyes, endeavours to elude Don Giovanni's pursuit of her until he leads her to the dance and then carries her off, 163 the complicated situation is characterised, as a whole, with firm and distinct touches, and the individual points are allowed to fall into the background. When she has been delivered from Don Giovanni's hands her feelings for him have undergone a revulsion, and henceforward she is found among the number of his pursuers. Her passing inclination for the libertine has, however, roused into life a germ which is fostered and developed by her relations towards Masetto. At first her intercourse with her lover is unreserved and entirely happy. Masetto is represented as a course, jealous, but good-natured clown, and appears at a disadvantage when compared with Zerlina, Don Giovanni, or even with Leporello. Mozart has sketched his figure for us in simple graphic lines, never bringing him to the foreground, but always giving him his right place in the ensemble movements, to which he contributes his share of life and colour. He only asserts himself once in an air, when Don Giovanni is sending him away in order to be alone with Zerlina. This is of a decidedly buffo character, and, compared with the MASETTO—ZERLINA. airs of Don Giovanni and Leporello, affords a totally distinct but equally faithful picture of character; His indignation, only restrained from respect for the great man, which would fain vent itself in ironical bitterness, his coarse sarcasm, which he intends to be so delicate and biting, are admirably characterised. The very first motif of the orchestra, where the ominous horns are again distinctly heard—[See Page Image]

at which he exclaims, "Ho capito, signor si," shows by the monotonous repetition of increasingly emphatic bars how engrossed he is in the one idea which has taken possession of his mind. The two motifs with which he sarcastically addresses Zerlina and Don Giovanni are also admirably characteristic; and equally so the conclusion, where he does not know how to stop; and the syncopated rhythm adds not a little force to the expression of his perplexity.

Zerlina's two airs are in vivid contrast to the coarse and boorish, but honest character of her lover. They express neither affection nor tenderness, but rather the consciousness of her own superiority, which her intercourse with Don Giovanni has revealed to her. Hers is one of those easy natures which are volatile without being actually untrue, whose feelings are the children of the passing moment, and whose charm is enhanced by the excitement of the moment. The master has inspired this lovely and graceful form with a breath of warm sentiment, without which she would be cold; and her roguish smile saves her from the reproach of mere sentimentality. The first air (Act I., 12) takes its tone from Zerlina's desire to pacify Masetto; but there is no trace of a need for forgiveness—of the consciousness of an unlawful love; she disarms her lover's wrath with caressing tenderness, and gives him glimpses of bliss which he is far too weak to resist.

It would be impossible to conceive a more charming love-making, and no false note of sentimentality mars the graceful picture. The obbligato violoncello lends itself in a singular degree to the individual characterisation, its restless DON GIOVANNI. movement and soft low sound standing in happiest contrast to the clear fresh voices; the accompaniment completes what the singer leaves unsaid. It portrays the anxious hesitation in the minds of both the lovers; and not until the second part does the motion flow free and full, till all resentment dies away in gentle murmurings. The second air (Act II., 5), corresponds to a different situation. Masetto has been beaten, and Zerlina tries to console him; if she were to put on an air of sentimental gravity it would appear absurd; the roguish playfulness with which Mozart has endowed the broader merriment indicated by the words is far more appropriate here, and gives the expression of pure and tender grace, which renders this one of the most attractive of songs. The clearness and brightness of the instrumentation compared with that of the first air is very striking.

Very different is Don Giovanni's behaviour towards Elvira.

This ungrateful part of a deserted mistress has for the most part been neglected. If a great artist, such as Schroder-Devrient, had conceived the idea of embodying on the stage the dignified character of Elvira as Mozart created it, the representation of the opera would have been placed on an altogether different footing. Elvira is in an outward position of equality with Don Giovanni. She is his superior in nobility of mind, and she has been deeply injured by him. Her first air (Act I., 3) 164 shows her as a woman of strong character and passionate feeling, as far from the ladylike reserve of Donna Anna as from the youthful grace of Zerlina. As unreservedly as she had given her love to Don Giovanni does she now yield to her thirst for revenge, and even this proceeds not so much from injured pride as from disappointed love, ready to burst in new flames from its ashes. The tone-colouring of the instrumentation in this air is in very striking contrast to that of the previous songs; clarinets are used for the first time, and with the horns and bassoons (no flutes) give a full and brilliant effect. Don Giovanni overhearing her, and sympathising with her while ELVIRA. not recognising her, together with the running comments he makes on her to Leporello, add a mixture of humour to the scene which could not be more gracefully expressed. The laugh is unsparingly turned against Elvira, and is occasioned by the passionateness with which she has compassed her own discomfiture. The musical rendering clearly shows that in her proper person she remains unaffected by it. Resolved to pursue Don Giovanni, and defeat his machinations, she intercepts him as he is hastening into his casino with Zerlina, and exclaims to the deluded maid:—

This air, unlike the rest of the opera, retains the form of the older school, then still frequently heard in church music. 165 Apparently Mozart made use of the severe, harsh form which at once suggests the idea of sacred music to the hearer, in order to give the impression of a moral lecture, and to emphasise the contrast with the "gay intoxication of self-forgetfulness" of the rest of the scene. 166 This mode of address was appropriately and suggestively employed towards the peasant maid; but Elvira adopts quite another tone when she returns and finds Don Giovanni in close converse with Donna Anna. In the quartet (Act I., 8) (likely 9, DW) her warning, in accordance with the exalted rank of the mourners, takes a plaintive tone, and her passion only flares up again when roused by Don Giovanni's duplicity. Then she comes forward, and her energetic tone predominates in the ensemble movements, although the silent power of true nobility and grief exerts a moderating influence on her expressions of passion. She makes a similar impression DON GIOVANNI. in the first finale (Act I., 13). She has explained herself to Donna Anna and Don Ottavio, and they are leagued together to watch and to expose Don Giovanni. When they appear masked in front of the casino she encourages them to act boldly; Don Ottavio chimes in with her, but Donna Anna is seized with maidenly fears face to face with such an adventure. All this is expressed in the most admirable manner, and a few touches suffice to place the two women before us in all the dissimilarity of their natures. The accompaniment, too, is unusually characteristic. In sharp contrast to the cheerful excitement in which Don Giovanni, Zerlina, and Masetto make their exit stands the mournful accompaniment to Elvira, while Don Ottavio's powerful tenor notes are infused with additional energy by the accented passage? for the wind instruments. The accompaniment, without altering its essential character, adopts at Donna Anna's entrance an anxious plaintive tone expressive of the purity and elevation of her mind. After a short colloquy with Leporello, who invites them to enter, the three, confident in the justice of their cause, prepare for their difficult enterprise. After the restless energy of the previous scene this clear and composed expression of a deeper emotion diffuses a sense of calm beneficence. The construction of the movement places Donna Anna and Don Ottavio in close juxtaposition; Elvira is placed in opposition to them and, in accordance with her character, she is more animated and energetic. Here again the desired effect is much strengthened by the support of the orchestra. It was unusual to make use of the wind instruments alone in accompaniments; and in addition to this the full soft sound of the extended chords contrasts strikingly with the deep tones of the clarinets, heard now for the first time. What a contrast it forms, too, to the tone-colouring of the preceding movement; one feels for the moment transported to another world. Scarcely have the last echoes died away when the sharp attack of the orchestra on the following movement brings us down to earth again. In the scene which follows it is Elvira who is ever on the watch—who with Don Ottavio intercepts and ELVIRA—TERZET. unmasks Don Giovanni; after that she falls into her place with the rest. Implacable as Elvira shows herself in her pursuit of revenge on Don Giovanni, her love for him has taken such deep root in her heart, his personality exercises such a magic power over her, that she is ready to forget all that is past, and to trust herself to him again. Poetry could only make this visible by means of a chain of connecting links; music is happier in its power of rendering the most hidden springs of human action; once let the right key be struck, and the state of mind to be represented is there. And seldom has a frame of mind incapable of verbal description been so truly and beautifully expressed as in this terzet (Act II., 2). A short ritomello places the hearer in a frame of mind which enables him to give credence to what he is about to learn. Elvira, alone in the twilight, comes to the window; old memories awaken old feelings, which, while she deplores them, she cannot escape. Don Giovanni, who is present, resolves to turn this softened mood to account; he wishes to drive Elvira away, and a fresh triumph over her affections is a satisfaction to his arrogant vanity. Leporello in his master's hat and cloak is made to advance, and Don Giovanni, concealed behind him, addresses Elvira tenderly in the very notes which have just issued from her mouth. Don Giovanni's appeal comes to her like an echo of her own thoughts. She interrupts him with the same lively reproaches which she has already uttered to herself, while he prays for her pity with the most melting tenderness. Elvira is overcome, and thereupon very appropriately the motif occurs with which Leporello first expressed his consternation at Elvira's appearance. Don Giovanni persists all the more urgently in the same tone, and the turn of expression just alluded to is developed, with a startling impetus produced by the transition to the key of C major, into a cantilene of entrancing beauty. 167 DON GIOVANNI. He answers Elvira's violent reproaches ("con transporto e quasi piangendo," Mozart has noted them) with exclamations of increasing passion, and threatens to kill himself if she does not grant his prayer. The feeling that Elvira must yield to so passionate an outburst of the love towards which her heart impels her is mingled with a sense of Leporello's ludicrous situation, and we feel no incongruity in his fit of laughter. But when Elvira actually yields, even Leporello cannot withhold his sympathy from her, while Don Giovanni mockingly triumphs in his victory. In a certain sense the two have exchanged their parts as well as their clothes. This terzet may safely be cited as an example of how simplicity of design and regularity of construction may unite with perfect beauty and truth of expression into a piece of genuine dramatic characterisation; but who can express in words the tender fragrance of loving desire which breathes from the music like the perfumes from an evening landscape? If we are to infer Don Giovanni's character from the duet with Zerlina (Act I., 6), the serenade (Act II., 3), and this terzet, we have the picture of an engaging and amiable personality which strikes every tone of affection and desire with bewitching grace and delicacy, and with an accent of such true feeling that it is impossible for the female heart to withstand him. This is not the whole of Don Giovanni's character, however. When Elvira's weakness has betrayed her into an equivocal position, Don Giovanni's heartless insolence places her in a situation which only Leporello's comic character prevents from becoming an exceedingly painful one. The fear which takes undisputed possession of him during the interview reflects a comic light upon Elvira, but without interfering with her preconceived character. Mozart has succeeded admirably in the sestet (Act II., 6) in maintaining Elvira's dignity of deportment both towards the craven Leporello and her former allies; she never sinks below herself; but the consciousness of her weakness and of the dastardly trick played upon her has broken her spirit. There is no trace of the energetic, flaming passion of the earlier Elvira; Donna Anna's pure ELVIRA—INSERTED AIR—FINALE. form rises high above her, and she no longer takes the lead in the expression of astonishment and indignation. After the sestet, when Leporello had escaped from the hands of Zerlina, there was inserted in Vienna an air for Elvira, in which the violence of her passion is moderated to a degree almost incredible. The softened mood in which the feeling of her inextinguishable love is expressed no longer as anger against the traitor, but as pity for the lost sinner, is, when rightly delivered, 168 most admirably represented; but the dignity and nobleness which have stilled the waves of sorrow and revenge are not really consistent with the fire and force of the true Elvira. Then, also, the accents of disappointed love, which Mozart knew how to evoke with such masterly insight, are scarcely present at all in this air. Nevertheless, considered musically it is of great beauty, and the voices are most effectively supported by obbligato solo instruments, which are never elsewhere used in exactly the same way by Mozart. This charming piece is not inappropriate in its own place, but it does not render either situation or character with the same breadth or accuracy which Mozart elsewhere displays in "Don Giovanni." Any idea of a closer connection with Don Giovanni being now out of the question, Elvira, feeling also that her own existence is rendered worthless, resolves to enter a convent. But her character and her undying affection forbid her to part for ever from Don Giovanni without calling him to repentance and amendment. Her entrance in the second finale interrupts the merriment of Don Giovanni and Leporello at table, and, like a landscape in changing lights, the whole tone of the music is altered at a stroke. 169 Her warning here is very different to that which she addressed to Zerlina. A stream of glowing words comes from the very depths of her love-tossed heart, and beats in vain against the overweening pride of her heartless betrayer. At first he seeks to treat her appeal as a jest, which may be humoured; and when her prayers, her tears, her dismay are thereby DON GIOVANNI. redoubled, he mocks at her with all the frivolity of his pleasure-seeking nature. This is too much even for Leporello: he sympathetically approaches Elvira; and the effect is very fine, when the same notes which seemed to threaten annihilation by their weight at Elvira's entrance are heard from the mouth of Leporello. Don Giovanni's overbearing insolence increases and calls down upon him the fate to which, now that even Elvira has left him, he is doomed to hasten. This scene is again a very masterpiece of high dramatic art. A flow of passionate emotion, like a lava stream down the mountain side, succeeds to the loosely connected musical jests of the supper-table. The very change of tone-colouring is of the greatest significance. The first noisy and brilliant movement, with its trumpets and drums and lively passages for the stringed instruments, is succeeded by the arranged harmony music, against which the full orchestra, with the combined strength of wind and stringed instruments, stands in bold relief. Don Giovanni and Elvira are here for the first time opposed on equal terms. Her passionate emotion is purified and ennobled without any loss of strength or reality; and he displays an energy and keen enjoyment of life which would have something great in it if it were directed to higher aims, but which here excites only horror. It prepares us for the resistance which he is to make to the spectral apparition; but the insolent scorn with which he hardens himself against Elvira's prayers is more shocking to the feelings than his determined resistance to the horrors of the nether world, wherein we cannot but grant him our sympathy. Sharply accented as are the mocking tone of mind and the sensuality of Don Giovanni, we never find him vulgar or revolting. This is due to the combination of strength and boldness with beauty of form in the music allotted to him. What can be more impressive than the oft-repeated motif given to Don Giovanni:—[See Page Image] DON GIOVANNI'S CHARACTER. with no support but a simple bass, in strong contrast to the rich accompaniment elsewhere employed? His good breeding is as characteristic of him as his love of enjoyment, and is shown at his first entrance in his behaviour towards Donna Anna and the Commendatore. There is no roughness in his struggle with her, and he would fain avoid violence, as also in the combat with her father; not until his honour as a cavalier has been touched to the quick does he draw his sword, and the result of the duel causes him genuine emotion. True, his nobler impulses are not of long duration; he is destitute of generosity or nobility of mind, and his highest quality is mere brute courage. In the churchyard scene, when his arrogance has brought matters to a crisis, and Leporello has made his terrified exit, the horror of his situation rouses all Don Giovanni's determination, and he passes the bounds of foolhardiness in his defiance of the spectre. This scene, however, in which the defiance of a mortal is forced to yield to the higher powers, is a necessary sequel to the preceding one with Elvira, in which the moral conflict has just been fought out. Its pathos redeems it from burlesque, and spreads an impression of horror which overmasters human reason. Mozart's success in the combination of these qualities into a whole of harmonious beauty has already been admired by us as the work of a genius. Gracious and winning manners and overflowing strength and animal spirits, combined with the refinement of good birth and breeding and the frankness of a jovial temperament, produce a picture of a man richly endowed by nature, but requiring to bend to moral restraint before he can be called great or noble. He attracts liking, he rouses sympathy, but he is doomed to final overthrow.

Donna Anna, 170 as the representative of intellectual elevation and moral purity, is placed in strong contrast to this seductive being, who attracts and degrades all with whom he comes in contact. She triumphs over him from the first, DON GIOVANNI. the magic of his presence being powerless to affect her pure spirit. But her maidenly pride resents his unworthy advances; the idea that an insult so great should remain unpunished rouses such passion within her, that she loses sight of all save her just revenge. The music gives a tone of nobility and elevation to her passionate excitement, stamping her at once as the superior nature to which Don Giovanni yields, not only that he may escape recognition, but because he cannot help himself. Her relation to him preserves this tone throughout, and there is no subsequent suggestion of any closer or more personal interest.

Hoffmann's infelicitous idea that Donna Anna had been dishonoured by Don Giovanni is contradicted by Da Ponte's libretto, which emphasises her affection for Don Ottavio as repeatedly and decidedly as does the high-pitched ideality of the music. It is a grievous error to suppose that her "high-tragedy manner" towards her betrothed arises from the consciousness of shame and from falsehood and hypocrisy, and not rather from an elevated sense of pride and pure morality and from filial grief for her murdered father. Hoffmann's conception of the two chief characters, and their; relations to each other, though often quoted, 171 is in many respects a misleading one. A Don Giovanni, a very demon, who seeks in sensual love to satisfy his cravings for the supernatural; who, weary and satiated with earthly pleasures, despising mankind, and in utter scorn against nature and his Creator seeks to compass the ruin of every woman he meets, is as foreign to the age, the character, and the music of Mozart as a Donna Anna who, loving the greatness which originally existed in Don Giovanni, yields to him without resistance, only to feel doubly conscious of her abasement and absorbed in the desire for revenge.

Upon her return with Don Ottavio she finds her father a corpse, and, after making the most pitiful lamentations, she becomes insensible. Coming to herself her first DONNA ANNA. half-unconscious exclamation is for her father; she imagines that the murderer is before her, and beseeches him to slay her also. When the dread certainty has brought her to full consciousness, she collects all her forces for revenge. She makes Ottavio swear vengeance on the murderer, and her excitement rises to an unnatural joy at the prospect of the fulfilment of their gloomy task. The musical rendering of this state of mind is perfect. The high-pitched mood of Donna Anna is characterised with so much precision and delicacy, and the continuous climax is so consistent and well connected, chiefly by virtue of the musical construction, that we feel ourselves taken captive and prepared to accept what we hear as the involuntary outbursts of passion. 172 Even Don Ottavio's consolatory words, sharply as they contrast in their cantilene-like delivery with Donna Anna's broken interjections, betray in their restless accompaniment and changing harmonies the inner disquiet from which he cannot free himself. As soon, however, as the thought of revenge has been grasped, the two go together, and the voices are in close connection, while the orchestra (a chief factor in the musical rendering of the whole scene) contrasts with them in sharpest accents, now urging, now restraining; the long suspense of the detached, disconnected phrases is relieved by the stream of passion which seems to raise the weight from the hearts from which it flows. Don Ottavio, owing partly to the libretto, has acquired an unfavourable reputation that can scarcely be entirely overcome, even if the exaggerations which have become customary in his part should be discarded. 173 In real life we feel the highest esteem for a character which preserves calmness and clearness in the midst of heaviest trials, DON GIOVANNI. and stands loyally and tenderly by the side of the afflicted; but we seldom find a poetic or passionate side to such a nature. Such an one is Don Ottavio. He preserves his composure amid the whirlwind of passion around him; his love imposes upon him the task of consoling and supporting his beloved one under the loss of her father, and he performs it in a manner at once tender and manly. He rises to greater strength in the summons to vengeance, when he shows himself in no way inferior to Donna Anna; and when the two next come upon the scene, it is he who exhorts Donna Anna to stifle her grief and to dream only of revenge. The unexpected appearance of Elvira, and Don Giovanni's behaviour inspire him with some degree of suspicion; but he and Donna Anna preserve in the quartet (Act I., 8) a dignified reserve towards the strangers, which has a depressing effect when united with their mournful contemplation of their own sorrow. Here they are entirely at one with each other, and so the music renders them; their superiority of birth and demeanour has its effect on the other two characters, and gives the tone to the whole. Don Giovanni's entrance, his glance and tone, inspire Donna Anna with the certainty of his being her father's murderer; the memory of that fearful event flashes across her, and the tumult of feeling which it arouses is expressed by the orchestra in pungent dissonances by means of opposing rhythm and harsh sounds produced especially by the trumpets, which have been silent since the overture until now. It is with difficulty that she composes herself sufficiently to acquaint her lover with the cause of her agitation.

When she has told him all, she urges him again to revenge her father's death, in an air (Act I., 10) of which the delicate characterisation completes the perfect image of Donna Anna. This air, in comparison with the preceding recitative and with the duet, is temperate in tone. The renewed appeal for revenge is not the same involuntary outburst of passion which it was; it is the expression of conviction, and is therefore more composed, though not less forcible than before. A high and noble pride speaks in the first motifs (Vol. 11., p. 428)—[See Page Image] DONNA ANNA—OTTAVIO. with inimitable dignity and force, while the plaintive sextoles of the violins and violas, the urgent figure for the basses, which turns to imitation at the second motif, and the gentle admonitory dialogue of the wind instruments represent the restless anxiety which has called forth her determination. 174

Donna Anna's elevation of mind raises the man of her choice, and her maidenly bashfulness gives her confidence a lover-like character. Ottavio, who has not been inspired with the same instinctive certainty of Don Giovanni's guilt, finds it hard to convince himself that a nobleman, and his friend, can be capable of such a crime; but he is quite ready to acknowledge the necessity for closely observing him. It was at this point that the air composed in Vienna was inserted (Anh. 3) to express Ottavio's devoted love for Donna Anna. It depicts exclusively the tender lover, and the heroic impulses which might be supposed to belong to the situation will be sought for in vain; the contrast with Donna Anna's high-spirited air is very striking. No doubt the insertion of the song was, in some measure at least, a concession to the individual singer and to the preference of the public for sentimental lovers. Granting this, however, it is simple and true in sentiment, tender without sickliness, and of purest melody. Besides the clear and lovely chief melodies, parts here and there, such as the transition to B minor and the return to D major at the words, "E non ho bene s' ella non l' ha," have a very striking effect. But the song DON GIOVANNI. is below the level of the situation, and, for want of a counterbalancing force, it injures the conception of Don Ottavio's character. The masque terzet expresses in a very pure and noble manner the contrast between an affection based on moral constancy, such as that of Donna Anna and Don Ottavio, and the unwholesome passions of the other characters. Donna Anna, entering masked to play the spy on Don Giovanni, is seized with alarm at the danger which threatens them all, especially her lover—"Temo pel caro sposo" she sings with her own melting, plaintive tones—and she calms her fears with difficulty. In the ball-room, where noisy merriment is at its height, their dignified appearance gives the assembly a certain air of solemnity. Leporello and Don Giovanni greet them respectfully; they answer somewhat ceremoniously, and join in the cry: "Viva la libertÀ!" but with a sort of dignified reserve which stamps them as of superior rank to the crowd of country people round them. This is a faithful reflection of the manners of the time; so also is the subordination of the chorus in this scene: it was customary for country people to keep at a respectful distance before persons of rank. When the dance recommences, it is Donna Anna again who finds her feelings so hard to master that she almost betrays herself. Zerlina's cry for help is the signal for an outbreak of general excitement; and henceforth they are all avowedly ranged against Don Giovanni. Don Ottavio acts as the mouthpiece and champion of the women, and calls Don Giovanni to account for the murder of the Commendatore. But he makes no attempt to take the punishment of the crime into his own hands, and Don Giovanni is allowed to beat a retreat from the presence of his former friends and now determined opponents. No chorus is introduced in the last movement of the first finale, and indeed none is conceivable. 175 What would be gained in material sound-effects would be lost in true dramatic effect. The "buona gente" do not presume to take part in the DONNA ANNA—OTTAVIO dispute of their lords; and, as the affair grows serious, the dancers and musicians leave the ball-room hastily, and the principal characters remain in possession of the scene. 176

Hitherto Don Ottavio has shown himself as a man deserving of Donna Anna's affection and confidence, loyal and devoted, cautious and determined, and preserving throughout the lofty demeanour which distinguishes him from Don Giovanni. But from this point we are in expectation that he will put his resolutions into action, and that the second act gives him no opportunity of doing so is a serious blemish.

The loose and disconnected plot of the second act sacrifices Donna Anna and Don Ottavio in especial; Elvira, Zerlina, and Masetto are woven not unskilfully into its intricate meshes, but the other two are altogether left out. In the sestet (Act II., 6) the earlier motif of consolatory assurance is repeated without any definite occasion, and only the exalted purity of the music can cover this defect. Their presence is in no way necessary either to the exposure of Leporello's trickery; it is amply justified from a musical point of view, however, for the noble and dignified tone, which contrasts with Leporello's comic fright and gives the character of the ensemble, is the result of their participation.

Don Giovanni's new villainy having removed all doubt of his guilt from Don Ottavio's mind, the latter no longer hesitates to call him to account. His conduct has rendered him unworthy of giving the ordinary satisfaction of a nobleman, and Ottavio resolves to deliver him over to justice, taking upon himself the risk of encountering so bold and formidable an adversary. As he turns to depart his thoughts naturally turn to Donna Anna, who has left the scene after the sestet, and he entreats his friends to console her during his absence, until he shall return with the tidings of a completed revenge. This feeling is natural and true, and the air (Act II., 8) expressing it is in every way appropriate.

His appeal for the consolation of Donna Anna is made in one of the loveliest cantilene which has ever been written for a tenor voice; but the second part is not quite on the DON GIOVANNI. same level. Mozart has rightly refrained from expressing the desire for revenge in a grand heroic movement, which would have introduced a false tone, but has limited it to a middle movement, rendered characteristic mainly by the rapid and forcible motion of the orchestra. The purely musical effect of this part is excellent, but the voice part has not force or brilliancy proportionate to the sweetness and fulness which it has just displayed. The idiosyncracies of the singer Baglione may, in some degree, have occasioned this treatment; he was specially celebrated for his artistic and finished delivery. 177

The course of the plot justifies Don Ottavio in his conduct towards Don Giovanni, and when the reprobate has been called before a higher than any earthly tribunal, Ottavio claims Donna Anna's hand, not as a tender lover, but as a faithful protector summoned by fate to her side. Donna Anna's postponement of their union until the year of mourning for her father shall have expired is a realistic trait, and reflects the ordinary rules of society and mode of thought then in vogue too faithfully to be at all poetic. But there can be no doubt of the intention to represent the love of Donna Anna and Don Ottavio as deep and sincere; and it argues a misapprehension of tragic ideality to consider the postponement either as an excuse to conceal her aversion to her lover, or as the result of her determination to renounce earthly love and seek refuge in a convent or the grave. 178 It is to the disadvantage of Don Ottavio, however, that he is made to re-enter and entreat Donna Anna to consent to an immediate union, without any previous intimation that he has carried out his design of bringing Don Giovanni to justice. This is uncalled for, and shows him in the light of an amorous weakling destitute of energy. 179 The scene was probably inserted later in order to separate the DONNA ANNA—OTTAVIO. churchyard scene from the supper, and chiefly, no doubt, to supply Donna Anna with another air; the characterisation of Don Ottavio and the natural progress of the plot are sacrificed to these objects. On the other hand, the air itself (Act II., 10) is a grateful task for the singer; and affords important aid to the musical-dramatic characterisation of Donna Anna. Hitherto grief and revenge have inspired her utterances; her affection to Don Ottavio has been indicated by her intrusting to him her most sacred interests and duties. Here, at last, her love breaks forth without reserve, and although she still rejects his petition, it is with a maidenly coyness and an expression of regret which add a new and individual interest to her character. The air is introduced by a recitative, and consists of two independent movements in different tempi. In form and treatment, especially in the employment of wind instruments almost solo, and in the bravura voice passages, it more closely resembles the traditional Italian aria than any other of the original songs in Don Giovanni; but, in spite of this, it renders important service to the characterisation. 180 The regularity of the musical form corresponds very well to the refined and not only noble but well-bred demeanour of Donna Anna. Deep and sincere emotion is expressed with maidenly tenderness, infused with just the tinge of melancholy which invests the whole representation of her character.

The characters which have been occupying our attention are so accurately and minutely delineated, and every detail is so admirably blended into the conception of the whole, that though a comparison with "Figaro" may doubtless show many superficial points of resemblance, a closer examination reveals the complete independence of the two works. No one figure resembles another even distantly; each has its own life, its own individuality, preserved in the minutest particulars, as well as in the general conception. Not less remarkable than this is the art with which the different DON GIOVANNI. elements, in all their force of energy and truth, are combined into an harmonious and comprehensive whole.

As regards the dramatic force and reality of the situations, especially in the ensembles, "Figaro" has the advantage over "Don Giovanni." The introduction to the first act is admirably planned, both musically and dramatically; in the quartet (Act I., 8) and terzet (Act II., 2) the situation and prevailing tone are simple, but well chosen and sustained; and the idea of giving Don Giovanni and Leporello a share in Elvira's first air (Act I., 3), is productive of excellent effect. The sestet (Act II., 6), on the other hand, is very loosely put together; the characters are grouped round Leporello suitably enough, it is true, but their encounter is not the natural result of the situation, and the climax is a purely external one. The finales in "Don Giovanni" are indeed far superior to the ordinary run, which even in good operas often consist of loosely strung scenes which might just as well be spoken as sung, but they are inferior to the well-combined, consistent* development of the plot which delights us in the finales in "Figaro." The first finale begins in lively style with the quarrel between Masetto, whose jealously is newly awakened, and the terrified Zerlina, who seeks to avoid an outbreak. The insidious ever-recurring motif for both voice and orchestra—[See Page Image]

in contrast with the quickly uttered notes and sharp accents of anger, is highly expressive of suspicion. Suggestive in another way are the beating notes for the trumpets—

which are interposed in Masetto's speech, and afterwards taken up by the flutes— FIRST FINALE. when Zerlina asserts herself, rising gradually to impatient quavers for the violin—[See Page Image]

while the principal subject pursues its quiet course. They are interrupted by the noisy merriment of Don Giovanni and his companions, who are repairing to the merry-making in the casino; the gradual dying away of the song of the retreating guests prepares us for the singularly tender and lovely scene between Zerlina and Don Giovanni, which, contrasted with the preceding duet with Masetto, first clearly shows the dangerous fascination of the seducer. After the inimitably expressed start of surprise at Masetto's reappearance the music alters altogether in character, and Don Giovanni assumes a cordial hospitality and cheerful gaiety which is partly accounted for by the sound of the dance music from the casino; this is made also a musical prophecy of what is to ensue, for the eight bars that are heard are taken from the second of the dances afterwards combined, and Mozart has omitted the two first bars, in order to put the hearer at once in the midst of the dance (Vol. II., p. 154 note). A lively figure for the violin expresses the desire of the three to join in the merriment. The figure is continued when Elvira, Donna Anna, and Don Ottavio appear, and several accompaniment figures are also retained, with important modifications. The minor key for the first time occurring, and the totally different treatment of the orchestra give an impression of a mysterious and gloomy shadow cast upon the noisy merriment of the scene. Leporello, opening a window by chance, sees the masks, and is ordered by his master to invite them to enter. The open window causes the dance music to be more plainly heard, and prepares for what is to follow; this time a minuet is played, which is heard entire, for as long as the window remains open the orchestra is silent, and conversation is carried on parlando. The unusual treatment of this scene prepares the way for the ball; but it is quite as consistent with the adagio which intervenes with surprising and profound effect.

DON GIOVANNI.

The grave and elevated tone betokening the presence of higher moral forces is additionally impressive after the unquiet, passionate activity which precedes it. For the first time in this finale the voices put forth all their power and beauty, and they receive powerful assistance from the accompanying wind instruments. The voices seem to stand out from the dark background of the peculiarly deep notes of the clarinets, but the chords which follow are like gleams of light cast upon them, and the whole movement appears transfigured in the glory of a higher region. The scene changes, as was not unusual in finales, and we find ourselves in the ball-room. The dance ended, the guests disperse for refreshment, and Don Giovanni and Leporello, as hosts, Zerlina unable to escape Don Giovanni's observation, and Masetto, jealously watching her, come to the front. The orchestra plays the principal part in the lively movement, 6-8, which portrays this situation. Rhythm, melodies, and instrumental colouring, all are stamped with voluptuous excitement, and we seem to breathe the heated air of the ball-room. The voices move freely, either joining in the orchestral subjects or going their own way in easy parlando or prominent melodies, grouped according to the requirements of the situation. The entrance of the masks gives, as has already been observed, a different tone to the scene; the stranger guests are courteously greeted, and Don Giovanni's summons to the dance places fully before the spectators the ball-room scene, which has so often been suggested. The real motive of the scene being musical, the dramatic representation is skilfully made the object of the musical construction.

The company is a mixed one, and different dances are arranged to suit the taste of all; thus also Don Giovanni is provided with the means of freeing himself of those persons who come in the way of his design. His distinguished guests tread a minuet, he himself joins in the country dance with Zerlina, while Leporello whirls Masetto in the giddy waltz. The musical representation of the situation in the three different dances is thus made the chief point of the scene, the plot moving rapidly onward; none of the characters DANCES. are in a position to express themselves fully, and the dance alone preserves the continuity of the whole. The combination of three dances simultaneously in varied rhythm and expression, offered to Mozart a task in counterpoint which he has accomplished with so much ease and certainty, that the untechnical listener scarcely believes in its difficulty. The arithmetical calculation that three bars in 2-4 are equal to two bars in 3-4, and one bar 3-8 represents a crotchet in a triplet, is easily made, and the system presents no difficulty. But the problem really consists in concealing the system beneath the melody and rhythm, and in causing the necessary coincidence of the phrasing to appear a natural and unstudied one, dependent on the individual character of each dance. One dance follows another as a matter of course. The minuet begins—the same which has been heard before. At the repetition of the second part, the second orchestra prepares to strike up, the open strings are struck in fifths, touched pizzicato, and little shakes tried, the violoncello joins in in the same way—and all falls naturally into the minuet, as it pursues its even course. 181 At last a gay country dance (2-4) strikes up, as different in melody and rhythm from the minuet as can be, although it is of course constructed on the same fundamental bass. At the second part, the third orchestra proceeds to tune up as the second had done before, and falls in with a fresh and merry waltz (3-8). 182 Before the minuet recommences, Zerlina's cry for help is heard, both dances and music break off suddenly, and the orchestra, which has hitherto been silent, strikes in with full force. 183 Zerlina's cry for help brings about a complete change of DON GIOVANNI. mood and tone. All present, except Don Giovanni and Leporello, are inspired by one sentiment, and form a compact and solid mass opposing the two, either in unison or by means of a purely harmonious treatment of the voices. Only pit particular points, such as the unmasking, do the different characters stand out, and the imitation by means of which the parts are again united emphasises the impression of strict connection between them. This kind of grouping requires a broad, grand treatment, and a more forcible one both for the voices and the orchestra. Mozart has nevertheless happily avoided the adoption of a tragic tone, which would have been unsuited to the situation. The case is not, after all, too grave to allow of Don Giovanni and Leporello expressing their confusion and dismay comically, after their manner, and the humorous character of the opera is thereby preserved. 184 Still more simple is the construction of the second finale. The introduction of table music taken from different operas renders the supper scene a very masterpiece of musical fun; but the episode has no direct connection with the action. 185 This begins with the entrance of Elvira, with a gravity and an impulse which have been wanting since the beginning of the opera. In opposition to Elvira's glowing passion, to which her higher resolves lend nobler impulse than before, so that even Leporello is carried away by her energy, Don Giovanni's sensuality stands out in stronger relief, until it outrages man's noblest and most sacred feelings; the contradiction develops a depth of pathos THE SECOND FINALE. which prepares for the approaching catastrophe. The force and fulness of musical expression in this scene are as remarkable as the deep truth of its characterisation. Compare the passionate expressions of Donna Anna with this outbreak of Elvira, and the fundamental difference of the two characters is clear; so also it is plain that, inimical to each other as they may be, Elvira and Don Giovanni are creatures of the same mould, having the same easily excited sensual impulses. Leporello's terror-stricken announcement of the Commendatore's approach comes as a relief to this highly wrought scene. In point of fact, the comic tone increases the suspense more than even Elvira's piercing cry; ludicrous as is the fear of Leporello, the main impression it produces is one of horror at its cause. The first fear-struck tones of the orchestra, collecting their forces for what is to come, the first simple, firm tones of the spectre's voice 186 transport us to the sphere of the marvellous. This sense of the supernatural is preserved by Mozart throughout the scene, and the hearer seems to himself to be standing in breathless suspense at the very verge of the abyss. It is produced by an uninterrupted climax of characteristically shaded movement; and the object which the master has kept steadily before him has been to produce at every point the expression of a grandeur and sublimity surpassing that of earth. To accomplish this, external means, such as the disposition of harmonies and instrumental colouring are employed with equal boldness and skill, but the true conditions of its extra-ordinary effect are the high conception and powerful inspiration which animate the whole. When to this it is added that Don Giovanni and Leporello, although under the spell of the supernatural apparition, act freely, each according to his individual nature, without for an instant prejudicing the unity of tone, it must be acknowledged that the union of dramatic truth and lofty ideal is here complete. After this prolonged and painful suspense the breaking of the storm DON GIOVANNI. which is to deliver Don Giovanni into the power of the internal spirits comes as a long-expected catastrophe. The spirits themselves Mozart has wisely kept in the background. Invisible in the darkness, they summon their victim in few, monotonous, but appalling notes. This allows of a more animated expression to the torture of despair which seizes Don Giovanni, and to the terror of Leporello; while the orchestra depicts the tumult of all the powers of nature. This scene can only attain to its full effect when theatrical managers can make up their minds to allow the music to work on the imagination and feeling of the audience, unimpeded by a display of fireworks and demoniac masks. 187 This finale, after all that has preceded it, does not certainly produce a calming effect, but it relieves the suspense, and virtually brings the plot to an end. The entrance of the other characters to learn the fate of Don Giovanni from Leporello, and to satisfy the audience as to their own fate, is chiefly a concession to the custom of assembling all the chief persons on the stage at the close of the opera, which in this case seems justified by the necessity of concluding with a composing and moral impression. It is not, however, the true close of the plot, and the audience have already been quite sufficiently informed as to the fate of the characters.

Regarded from a musical point of view, Leporello's narrative—interrupted by exclamations of astonishment from the others—is very fresh and spirited, and the surprise well and delicately expressed; the movement would be most effective in another place, but here it falls decidedly flat. The larghetto in which the duet between Don Ottavio and Donna Anna, with the short remarks of the others, is brought to a close is lovely, but not so weighty in substance as the situation demands. The closing movement is very fine, and Mozart has imparted such a clear and tender radiance to the church-music sort of form in which he has embodied the moral maxims, that a flush like that of dawn seems to rise THE SECOND FINALE. from the gloomy horror which has buried the gay life of the drama in deepest night. It was soon felt that to preserve the interest of the audience after the spirit scene was impossible. An attempt at abbreviation was annexed to the original score, omitting the larghetto so far as it referred to personal circumstances. Whether this experiment was made in Prague or Vienna, 188 it appears not to have sufficed, and at the performance in Vienna the opera closed, as it almost invariably has later, with Don Giovanni's descent into the lower regions. At his fall all the characters enter and give a cry of horror, which is inserted in the score on the chord of D major. A few attempts have been made later, either on theoretical or practical grounds, to restore the original closing scene. 189 Attempts at a modification such as have been made are very objectionable. At a performance in Paris Don Giovanni's disappearance was followed by the entry of Donna Anna's corpse borne by mourners, and the chanting of the "Dies irÆ" from Mozart's Requiem. 190 This idea suggested to Kugler 191 the further one of changing the scene after Don Giovanni's fall to the mausoleum of the Commendatore, and introducing the funeral ceremonies, the chorus singing from Mozart's Re-queim, "Lux perpetua luceat ei" (not eis, "because it is only for one person"), "Domine, cum sanctis tuis quia pius es," to be followed by the "Osanna in excelsis" as an appropriate conclusion. It is as difficult to comprehend how these two movements can be thus combined, as how reverence for the master can allow of his sacred music being thus tacked on to an opera without any regard to unity of style and workmanship. Viol, supported by Wolzogen, adopted this idea so far as, instead of the usual conclusion, to insert the funeral service in the mausoleum, and have the closing movement of the opera sung there; but it appears DON GIOVANNI. altogether out of place. Nothing can be more objectionable than to make use of separate parts of a work of art in a different sense to that intended by the master; omission is, on the whole, a less hurtful proceeding.

A consideration of the finale proves what is borne out by the whole opera, that, though inferior in artistic unity of plot to "Figaro," it excels that work in the musical nature of its situations and moods. In "Figaro" we are amazed to find how, within the narrow limits of emotion presented to us, seldom rising to passion, never to a higher pathos, our minds are entranced by the grace and spirit of the representation. In "Don Giovanni," on the contrary, there is scarcely a side of human nature which is not expressed in the most varied shades of individuality and situation; through the checkered scenes of daily life we are led to the very gates of the spirit world, and the light of original wit and humour shines upon the work from beginning to end. The difficulty for a dramatically gifted author lay in moderation. Da Ponte having placed his "Don Giovanni" in the present, Mozart with ready wit draws upon reality where-ever possible for matters of detail and colouring. This freshness and fulness of realism distinguishes "Don Giovanni" from "Figaro," without entailing any loss of ideality, for every subject drawn from real life is turned to the service of the artistic conception of the whole. The statues of the Parthenon or the figures of Raphael teach how the great masters of the formative arts follow nature in all and each of their creations; they teach, too, how the treasure which the eye of genius descries in the depths of nature must be first received into a human heart, thence to emerge as a complete and self-contained whole, appealing to the sympathies of all mankind. Nor is it otherwise with the great masters of sound, whatever be the impulse which urges them to expression, whether the words of the poet, the experiences of life, the impressions of form, colour, or sound;

the idea of the whole, which inspires it with life and endows it with form and meaning, must come from the depths of his own spirit, and is the creative force, which is unceasingly active until the perfect work of art is produced. The ideal of such a work is the perfection which is conceivable and visible to mankind in art alone; in it that which elsewhere appears as contrast or opposition rises to the highest unity. This once attained, we experience the satisfaction which for mortals exists in art alone. But our delight and admiration rise still higher when this harmony is maintained throughout a varied and many-sided composition, containing a wealth of interests and motives appealing to our most opposite sympathies, and stirring the very depths of our being—then it is that we feel the full and immediate inspiration of that Spirit Who looks upon the universe as the artist looks upon his work.