2 Aria as drama

JAMES WEBSTER

The primacy of aria

In eighteenth-century opera, the aria was supreme. Although in practice
the distinction was less hidebound than the usual later descriptions would
imply, most operas were constructed on the principle of strict alternation
between passages of action and dialogue in versi sciolti (free verse, usually
in a combination of seven- and eleven-syllable lines), set musically as
recitative; and passages of reaction for single characters in closed poetic
forms, set musically as fully composed, semantically and expressively
significant movements with orchestral accompaniment – that is, as arias.
Indeed, almost all the concerted vocal numbers were arias (plus the
occasional duet and the very occasional trio); although the gradually
increasing proportion and importance of ensembles late in the century
(especially in comic operas) qualified this high status, it did not abrogate it.
(As in most respects, the tragédie lyrique in France was somewhat differ-
ent; it was characterized by a more nearly fluid alternation among recita-
tive, arioso, and air, with the air shorter and more nearly integrated into
the flow, as well as by an emphasis on chorus and ballet that by and large
was foreign to opera in Italian.) However, the primacy of the aria was not
merely dramaturgical and statistical, but aesthetic as well. It was reflected
in historical tradition and strength of conventions, prestige among theor-
ists and aestheticians, care lavished by composers, identification with star
performers and the culture of performativity, and interest on the part of
audiences. The only dissenters – although they played a more important
role than implied by their mere numbers – were those librettists, such as
Metastasio, who regarded the dramma per musica as a staged drama, even
though written “for” and conveyed “by means of” music (the preposition
per has both senses),1 and “reforming” theorists and composers such as
Calzabigi and Gluck.
An aria dramatizes a “moment” of emotion, reaction, or inner conflict;
it is comparable to a speech or soliloquy in Shakespeare or Racine, in
both its degree of passion and its dependence on the arts of rhetoric.2
Metastasio and many critics compared the function of the aria with that of
[24] the chorus in Greek tragedy; this accounts in part for the many aria texts
25 Aria as drama

that trope the action sententiously. Metastasio also codified a number of

conventions for the da capo aria, including its role as an emotional climax
to a scene (usually followed by the exit of the character delivering the aria)
and the principle of presenting contrasting affective types in successive
arias.3 Only accompanied recitatives and ariosos (brief arias or aria-like
utterances not in a fully worked-out form) are on average more intense,
and most of these are utterances by single characters as well; that is, they
are dramaturgically equivalent to arias.4 Furthermore, the succession of
these moments can be highly dramatic (if not “realistic”): as we shall see
below, the various arias for a given character cumulatively develop a
rounded portrait of his or her personality, while the continuities and
contrasts among arias for different characters articulate not only their
individual (and changing) motivations, but also the social and moral
world of the drama.5
In the early eighteenth century, most arias were relatively short, and
their number in a given opera was large (often 40 or more).6 With the rise
in the 1720s of the international “system” of Metastasian opera seria by
composers such as Leo, Vinci, and Hasse, featuring “star” sopranos and
castrati, arias gradually became longer and more elaborate, with corre-
spondingly fewer per opera (averaging perhaps around 30 in the 1720s,
but by mid-century scarcely more than the low 20s); these tendencies
reached a peak in the operas of mid-century composers such as Hasse and
Jommelli, and were still observed by J. C. Bach and the young Mozart. In
the last third of the century, as the hegemony of opera seria and the
castrato declined in favor of comic, sentimental, and mixed genres, and
ensembles became more numerous, the number of arias continued to
decline (averaging perhaps in the mid-teens), while their forms became
more varied and they became on average shorter than at mid-century. A
meaningful survey of eighteenth-century arias is not possible in the pre-
sent state of knowledge; only a tiny proportion of the vast corpus (perhaps
as many as 100,000)7 is published, and the selection is doubtless not
representative. I shall confine my remarks to arias drawn from operas in
Italian (which predominated throughout the century, except in France)
that are currently available in published scores and video or sound
recordings.

Performers and performativity

No less (and perhaps more) than today’s “divas,” singers were the stars of
eighteenth-century opera, especially opera seria virtuosos such as the
sopranos Faustina Bordoni (the wife of Hasse) and Francesca Cuzzoni,
26 James Webster

and the castrati Farinelli (Carlo Maria Broschi) and Senesino (Francesco
Bernardi). Journalistic and even learned writings (for example by Charles
Burney and Johann Joachim Quantz) focused obsessively on the charac-
teristics and supposed merits and demerits of individual singers. Nor was
this merely a matter of opera seria or the reign of the castrato. In the 1780s
in Vienna, where the repertory was primarily opera buffa, Count Zinzendorf’s
diaries mention chiefly his reactions to the singers (as opposed, say, to the
merits of a work, even such a one as Le nozze di Figaro); the prima donna
Nancy Storace and the star basso-buffo Francesco Benucci were lionized no
less than those named above had been 50 years earlier in London.8 Indeed, in
many respects the prima donna and primo uomo were “co-authors” of the
work – as performed and received, in the theater – as much as the librettist
and composer.9 Furthermore, since eighteenth-century theaters were on
average much smaller than today’s, listeners’ experience of operatic singing
was closer and – when they chose to pay attention – presumably more
intense. Far from being “undramatic” (as eighteenth-century arias were
often described by twentieth-century musicologists), an aria in performance
in the theater was an “event” of emotion and display, which often occasioned
passionate demonstrations on the part of the audience, not to mention
frequent demands for repetition, in which the singer would astonish and
delight the listeners by ever greater feats of vocal display.

Texts
As a consequence of the overall construction based on the opposition
between action/dialogue/recitative and reaction/monologue/aria, most
eighteenth-century arias express a single emotion or motivation, or an
opposition between two contrasting affects, emotions, or dramatic ges-
tures, as in Example 2.1 discussed below. Their texts are correspondingly
brief and concentrated: a statement of grief, rage, love, heroic resolve, and
so forth, whether as a personalized utterance or a sententious general-
ization.10 An unjustly maligned subtype is the simile aria, in which the
character compares his or her self, or soul, to a river or the sea, a tiger or
stag or, in the case of Fiordiligi, a rock:11
Come scoglio immota resta a As a rock remains fixed
Contra i venti e la tempesta, a Against the winds and the storm,
Così ognor quest’alma è forte b So my soul is ever strong
Nella fede, e nell’amor. c In faith and in love.
The majority of texts comprise two stanzas of four to six lines each; in da
capo arias the second stanza, whose sense ordinarily qualifies or contrasts
27 Aria as drama

with that of the first (especially in the common situation of a character

trapped between two imperatives, such as love and duty), is ordinarily set
in the B section. Occasionally, especially later in the century, there is only
one stanza, divided between the two parts of the form or, less often, simply
repeated.
Unlike English and German, Italian verse is not constructed in metrical
“feet,” but according to the number of syllables in the lines and their
accentual patterns.12 Most eighteenth-century aria texts (or coherent
sections within texts) contain lines all of the same notional length, usually
five, six, seven, eight, or ten syllables (called respectively quinario, senario,
settenario, ottonario, and decasillabo). In an ordinary or piano (plain) line,
the strongest accent falls on the penultimate syllable, and the final is weak.
However, each meter also has two variant forms: tronco (cut), in which the
weak final syllable is omitted, and the line therefore one syllable shorter;
and sdrucciolo (slippery), in which there are two unaccented syllables at
the end, and the line one syllable longer.13 These variants do not change
the prevailing meter. Especially in settenario and ottonario, there is usually
a strong accent earlier in the line as well. Assuming no extension by
internal repetition or coloratura, the corresponding musical phrases
therefore most often comprise two “actual” measures, with the two textual
accents falling on the two downbeats, and a change of harmony or a cadence
on the second downbeat.14 In Handel’s “Pensieri” (see Example 2.1,
below), Agrippina’s first real phrase (mm. 19–22), on the words “Pensieri
voi mi tormentate” (“Thoughts, you torment me”), encompasses only
two roots, tonic and subdominant; it would normally have ended in the
fourth measure with two quarter-notes (or quarter–half) on “-tate,”
although in this case Handel virtuosically extended the melody into other
regions.
Usually, only the last line of each stanza is tronco; this produces a
strong accent at the end, in contrast to the weak endings in the preceding
piano lines, and it ordinarily encapsulates the “point” of the stanza as well
(see “Come scoglio,” quoted above). This stanza form was a godsend to
composers. In Example 2.3, Cecchina’s first aria from Piccinni’s La buona
figliuola, discussed later in this chapter, the piano endings of lines 1–3 are
naturally set as weak melodic cadences, with a vocal afterbeat (see mm. 28,
32, 37, 42); by contrast, the single tronco line at the end (“in bellezza
gareggiar”) becomes a strong cadence (m. 47) – the only one in the musical
paragraph. The implications for large-scale structure are obvious. In the
majority of da capo arias, the A section sets the first stanza twice through,
once for each of the two main parts of the vocal form, each of which thus
concludes with a strong cadence that corresponds to the strongest textual
accent. Two exceptions to these textual principles, concentrated late in the
28 James Webster

century (see Table 2.1), are (1) male buffo arias, which are often long and
multipartite, with contrasting meters and different tronco rhymes;15 (2) the
rondò, usually bipartite or even tripartite, and pointing towards a climax or
apotheosis at the end (see the section below on two-tempo forms).
Text form and musical form usually correspond in the large, despite
exceptions (which there is no space to discuss here).16 However, in all but
the briefest arias the disparity between the brevity of the text and the
elaborate musical working-out entails a great deal of text repetition, not
only of individual words within a line and individual lines within a section,
but of entire stanzas or even the entire text; divergences are especially
common towards the end (in a da capo aria, the end of the A section).17
Occasionally, a single word or phrase is so emphasized that it becomes an
element of form in its own right; for example, in Annio’s “Torna di Tito a
lato” (La clemenza di Tito, No. 13), the key word “torna” becomes a motto
governing the entire aria, almost independently of the overall ABA form.

Musical ideas; topics and rhetoric

Every eighteenth-century musical work was composed and understood
within a context of genre, Affekt, and “topoi” (musical topics): march,
hunt, pastoral, and so forth. Their employment located musical ideas and
gestures within a network of traditional associations, including dance-
types and distinctions of social status.18 Hence any musical feature was
potentially a sign of some extramusical association or formal function; the
set of available signs in a given context often incorporated all relevant
possibilities, leading to a repertory of meanings based on binary opposi-
tions among its elements, and thus creating an informal semiotic system.
In particular, recognition of the so-called “rhythmic topoi” (the system of
dance meters, tempi, and rhythmic-motivic dispositions, which were
correlated with distinctions of social status) has led to new and funda-
mental interpretations of character and motivation in eighteenth-century
opera. Topics in this sense are an aspect of an even more fundamental
category, that of musical rhetoric. This was not limited to elementary
notions of musical “figures” analogous to those of Classical rhetoric, or
correspondences between the parts of a composition and the parts of an
oration. On the contrary, it made a general analogy between events in a
composition and “the possible means of persuasion with respect to any
subject” (Aristotle, Rhetoric 1355b 25–6). Finally, as noted above, opera
was disseminated and received as a primarily performative art, one that
not only is ineluctably temporal, but the experience of which was physical
and psychological as well.
29 Aria as drama

Aria types
The topics constituted only one of many strong and long-standing dra-
matic, poetic, and musical conventions that governed eighteenth-century
operas; many of these conventions today are called “types.” (In this
context, type constitutes a special case of genre, with comparable shared
expectations – the “implied contract” – between creators/performers and
audiences.19 Furthermore, in the eighteenth century, aria-types were the-
orized only in the context of opera seria, while opera buffa was almost
entirely ignored, save for the occasional denunciation.20) The most impor-
tant of these were plot-types (for example, the Metastasian conflict
between love and duty, the rescue opera, the domestic and world-upside-
down comedies, the pastoral), character-types (the benevolent monarch,
the schemer for the throne, the upright male suitor, the sufferer from
unrequited love, the confidante, the sentimental heroine, the buffoonish
guardian, and so forth) – and aria-types. Almost every aria instantiated
one of a relatively limited repertory of types which, in combination with
the singer’s character-type and the dramatic context, largely determined
its significance. These types were created in part by the rhythmic topoi (see
above), in part by specialized operatic traditions that associated particular
dramatic contexts with specific combinations of keys, melodic styles, and
instrumentations: for example, tender love-sentiments with E-flat,
Andante or Larghetto in 2/4 or 3/8 time, clarinets, bassoons, and horns;
“heroic” arias sung by upper-class characters with C or D major in 2/2 or
4/4 time and slowly moving melodies in a fast but deliberate tempo;
pastoral arias sung by middle- and lower-class females with C, G, or F
major, moderate tempo, short legato phrases, and tonic pedals.
Although both the criteria that gave rise to the types (especially the
rhythmic topoi), and the types themselves, were thus signifiers within a
loose semiotic system, there was no standard “set” of types – nor can one
be constructed on the basis of recent synthesizing research – because the
relevant criteria are flexible and unstable. Nevertheless, it will be useful to list
some of the most important ones (see Table 2.1).21 The first five types in
Table 2.1 are adapted from the most familiar eighteenth-century classifica-
tion, by John Brown (1789);22 the concept of the rondò (not to be confused
with the musical form ‘rondo’, although there were points of contact; see
below, on two-tempo arias) was also current then. Except for the aria di
mezzo carattere, all of these were sung primarily by upper-class characters.23
The remaining four are modern constructs, because they are found primarily
in opera buffa (in which, as noted, theoretical interest was lacking), although
soubrette arias appear in opera seria as well, and the rather different type of
the “realistic” aria is borrowed from modern narrative theory.
30 James Webster

Table 2.1 Some eighteenth-century aria types

Aria cantabile or d’affetto

Upper- and middle-class characters
Expressing tenderness; relatively brief and eschewing vocal display
Many arias called “cavatina” are of this type; see Le nozze di Figaro, the Countess, “Porgi amor”
Familiar example: Così fan tutte, Ferrando, “Un’aura amorosa”
Aria di portamento
Primarily upper-class characters
Expressing dignity (broadly understood), resolution, defiance, etc.
A subtype is the “noble” or “heroic” aria, moderately fast in 4/4 or 2/2 time and often in C or D; see Don
Giovanni, Donna Anna, “Or sai chi l’onore”
A late subtype is the lament of a “sentimental” heroine (often di mezzo carattere); see La buona figliuola,
Cecchina, “Una povera ragazza” (Example 2.4)
Aria di mezzo carattere (referring to stylistic register, not character-type)
Primarily middle- and upper-class characters; also confidantes and “soubrettes”
Expressing various sentiments
Recent literature tends to construe this type (over-)broadly as any aria not clearly either upper or lower
class
Familiar examples: Marcellina’s and Basilio’s arias in Act 4 of Le nozze di Figaro
Aria parlante
Upper- and middle-class characters (for lower class see below, buffo aria and servant/ peasant aria)
Expressing agitation
Syllabic (in opera seria fast syllabic singing is “marked” as abnormal)
A subtype is the rage-aria
Familiar example: Così, Dorabella, “Smanie implacabili”
Aria di bravura (see also rondò)
Primarily upper class
Any Affekt requiring display
Familiar example: Idomeneo, Idomeneo, “Fuor del mar”
Rondò (a late eighteenth-century type) (to be distinguished from “rondo form”)
Primarily upper-class female characters (or other role sung by the prima donna)
Usually only one per character and at most two per opera; often near the enda
Often a soliloquy; deeply felt, conflicted sentiments; final section bravura
Usually in two tempi, slow–fast (often prefigured in the text); often gavotte rhythm
Often one or two obbligato winds dialogue systematically with the singer
Familiar example: Così, Fiordiligi, “Per pietà”
Buffo aria
Comic (lower- or middle-class) male characters
Usually long, multipartite text and contrasting sections; often through-composed
Usually in 4/4 time; syllabic, often with “patter”
Often features independent orchestral material and stage-action
A subtype is the catalogue-aria; see Don Giovanni, Leporello, “Madamina”
Familiar example: Le nozze di Figaro, Figaro, “Non più andrai”
Servant/peasant aria (cf. soubrette aria, below)
Usually lower-class female characters
Usually in the “simple” keys C, G, or F and in 2/4, 3/8, or 6/8 time
Servants: “saucy” or cynical, often with stage-action; see Così, Despina (both arias)
Peasants: pastoral or coquettish/erotic; see Don Giovanni, Zerlina (both arias)
Soubrette aria (cf. servant/peasant aria, above)
Usually middle-class characters; usually di mezzo carattere
Usually a declaration or solicitation of love
Familiar example: Così, Dorabella, “È amore un ladroncello”
“Realistic” (diegetic) aria
Representing action that would be sung even in a stage-play or in “real life”; e.g., serenades
Familiar examples: Le nozze di Figaro, Cherubino, “Voi che sapete”; Don Giovanni, Don Giovanni, “Deh
vieni alla finestra”

Notes
a
In Mozart’s Tito there are three two-tempo arias, two for Sesto and one for Vitellia; but that for Sesto in
Act 1 (“Parto, ben mio”) is not designated a rondò.
31 Aria as drama

As signifiers, the standard combinations could be modified, or even

violated, to suit a given dramatic situation: a potential aria d’affetto
directed at a lover who is believed to be unfaithful can become a lament
or a rage-aria (Figaro’s “Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi”);24 a character in
disguise entails a change not only of costume but of musical style, indeed
often of voice (an operatic character’s most intimate attribute); the lament
of a lower- or middle-class heroine in a late-century “sentimental” opera,
although stylistically distinct from both the aria di portamento and the
rondò, has equal weight and is performatively of equal status (see Cecchina
in La buona figliuola, discussed below). Since musical signs (like all signs)
can be used both “authentically” and otherwise, irony and parody also lie
near at hand. A middle-class character may wish to adopt a high style, but
prove unable to do so (in Figaro, Bartolo’s “La vendetta”). More interest-
ingly, the line between “sincere” or “appropriate” emotion and exaggera-
tion or parody may be difficult to draw, as in Dorabella’s and Fiordiligi’s
much-contested arias in Act 1 of Così (see Table 2.1).
All this suggests that we can construct a “network” of operatic numbers
related to any given aria.25 Every aria resembles numerous others in
various ways; these relations provide the typological context within
which any analysis or interpretation must proceed. The resemblances
are both dramatic (character-type, aria-type, dramaturgical context, moti-
vation, and so forth) and musical (vocal range and tessitura, topics, meter
and tempo, key, instrumentation, formal type, and so forth). The network
almost by definition includes the other arias sung by the same character;
depending on the context, it may also include numbers sung by other
characters to or about her, and arias composed for the same singer in
other operas. The totality of these relations implies the network, at whose
center lies the aria in question. However, one cannot quantify the degree
of closeness or the “direction” of such relations; the network cannot be
“graphed.” Rather, it represents the listeners’ or critics’ selection and
arrangement from among a potentially limitless set of relations. The net-
work is not objective, but subjective; its purpose not scholarly research,
but dramatic and hermeneutic interpretation.

Personae, agents, instrumental usage

In an aria, the singer’s music and the orchestral music constitute two
“strands” of the texture, proceeding simultaneously in time. Neither is
self-sufficient; each requires the other, and the relations between them are
often complex and unstable. In many cases the orchestra, or one or more
individual instruments within it, becomes an instrumental “persona” in its
32 James Webster

own right, complementary to the character’s vocal persona; or, if one

thinks of the singer as the protagonist, the orchestra becomes a more or
less independent “agent.”26 A focus on the singer’s music emphasizes that
a character is involved, whose feelings and motivation are the very reason
for the aria’s existence. Conversely, as an agent the orchestra comes into its
own right; indeed it often includes several more or less independent
agents. For example, in Pamina’s “Ach, ich fühl’s” (Die Zauberflöte), the
inarticulate ostinato trudging in the strings counterpoints her broken,
keening phrases psychologically as well as rhythmically, and in the deso-
late postlude that accompanies her exit the orchestra says that which she
may not: “Tamino!”
The accompaniment can influence the form and character of an aria by
means of independent musical material, rhythmic profile, and semantic
associations. An aria (or section) is usually characterized by a single basic
accompanimental pattern; this is often even more important rhythmically
than motivically, in that it forms part of the aria’s overall “topic.” But
accompanimental motives often have substantive, indeed illustrative
value: for example, in Belmonte’s “O wie ängstlich” (Die Entführung aus
dem Serail), the “beating” sixteenths in violin octaves illustrate the line
“Klopft mein liebevolles Herz” (one of many illustrative accompanimental
motives that Mozart himself pointed out in this aria).27 Another common
orchestral feature comprises interjections (most often in the winds) that
punctuate the rests at the ends of vocal phrases. In Handel’s “Pensieri” (see
Example 2.1), the solo oboe “introduces” itself as agent by echoing
Agrippina’s initial brief phrase, and thus bridges the gap between it and
the reprise of a ritornello motive; in the unexpected reprise of the aria
following the recitative, it links one vocal phrase directly to another.
Especially in certain types of comic aria, the orchestra may deploy an entire
battery of more or less independent motives and short phrases, often in
conjunction with gestures or stage action and alternating with the singer.
Occasionally, the orchestra plays an actual melody that is never given
to the singer. In Mozart, a common location for such melodies is the
beginning of the dominant paragraph of a slow aria: the winds play a
heartfelt tune, often with fast notes over slowly moving harmonies,
which the singer answers in more measured rhythms; see the Countess,
“Porgi amor” (Figaro), mm. 26–34; and Donna Anna, “Non mi dir” (Don
Giovanni), mm. 36–44. Finally, one or more instruments may assume a
true concertante role, accompanying the singer, echoing and anticipating,
indeed playing independent melodies. This is most common in two-
tempo arias: see not only the horn in Fiordiligi’s “Per pieta” (Così) and
the basset horn in Vitellia’s “Non più di fiori” (La clemenza di Tito) but
also, in the very different context of a buffa aria for a peasant girl, the cello
33 Aria as drama

in Zerlina’s “Batti, batti” (Don Giovanni). These solo instruments are no

mere sonic enrichments; by expanding the aria’s material and psycholo-
gical world, they comment on the singer’s plight, deepen her expression,
provide an aura that would otherwise be lacking. Thus they do in fact
become independent agents, whether as reflections of the singer’s state of
mind (producing that conversation with one’s alter ego so characteristic of
soliloquies; see again “Pensieri”), or as interlocutors.
With respect to rhythm, the orchestra naturally exhibits a greater range
and variety of rhythmic values than the singer. More important, indeed
pervasive, is a certain complementary relation between the orchestral and
vocal phrase-structure.28 As we have seen, the majority of vocal phrases
lead from an upbeat (or “weak” measure) to a downbeat (or “strong”
measure), most often on a change of harmony; the arrival point is con-
firmed by a rest directly following. By contrast, the strings tend to be more
or less continuous in texture and activity, and (except at cadences) their
phrasing is usually organized around initial downbeats (or “strong” open-
ing measures). The result is a complex interlocking of two rhythmic
patterns; see, for example, the beginning of Cherubino’s “Non so più.”
Ordinarily, the orchestra later changes to a faster harmonic rhythm, so as
to support the singer’s drive to the cadence; the resulting congruence, by
contrast with the out-of-phase rhythmic profile that precedes it, creates a
strong structural downbeat.
Another important class of orchestral phenomena comprises what may
be called the semantics of instrumentation; that is, conventional associations
between particular instruments and particular dramatic contexts or implica-
tions (compare the descriptions of aria-types above). Many of these associa-
tions originated with imitations of music heard in daily life: wind
instruments in marches and “dinner music” (the Act 2 finale of Don
Giovanni), pizzicato strings to imitate a guitar in serenades (“Deh vieni
alla finestra”), and so forth. Other associations were dependent on conven-
tion, and again affect mainly the winds: horn fanfares to signify nobility and
the hunt, as in Handel, Giulio Cesare, “Va tacito e nascosto” – but also
cuckoldry, based on the punning double significance of corno, as in Figaro’s
“Aprite un po’”; the curious double meaning of the flute, signifying both
chastity and the pastoral (owing to purity of tone?) and licentiousness; and
so forth.

Formal types
Musical forms, more precisely formal principles or “formal types,” are
properly understood not as fixed or static entities defined more or less
34 James Webster

rigorously by particular features, but as “ideal types.”29 Like aria-types

(see above), formal types constitute a special case of genre. They are as
much social as aesthetic in character; they involve reception and listener-
response as much as sectional structure and tonal organization, conven-
tion and context as much as originality and particularity. Nor were
convention and listener expectations constraining; on the contrary, it is
their very existence that made possible the profound “play,” on every level,
that animates not only Haydn’s string quartets and Mozart’s concertos,
but the characterization and drama of Handel’s and Mozart’s arias as
well.30 It follows that the significance of a given aria lies not in whether
it does or does not instantiate da capo form, but rather in the manner in
which it deploys the relevant features, in the particular context, and in its
similarities to and differences from the formal type itself (which no actual aria
may exemplify perfectly). In this brief survey I do not include short or
unproblematic types, such as strophic arias or simple binary and ternary
forms.

Da capo form
This much-misunderstood formal principle was the lifeblood of opera
seria, especially during the first two-thirds of the century. It was employed
for all character-types and in all dramatic situations; later in the century it
remained common in arias for seria-type characters, even in comic operas.
In its fullest articulation the da capo aria is much more complex than the
simple A B A′ design by which it is often represented. (The description
that follows is, again, that of the ideal type, not necessarily of any parti-
cular aria.) The A section comprises two statements for the singer (A1 and
A2 in the diagram below), each of which states an entire four-line stanza of
text (or other comparable textual unit). It also includes three orchestral
tuttis (often called ritornellos), before and after each vocal statement;
the opening tutti presents most or all of the important musical ideas of
the section, often at substantial length, while the final and (especially)
middle tuttis are often shorter; all three normally end with a strong perfect
cadence. The two vocal statements have a “binary” relation to each other:
their material is largely the same, and the concluding cadences almost
always “rhyme”; but the first statement cadences in the dominant (or
relative major), the second in the tonic. As a whole, however, the A section
combines vocal and orchestral forces into “framing” ritornellos and “cen-
tral” solos, in a complex manner that has many points of contact with
concerto form.31 The B section sets a second unit of text; especially in arias
from the middle of the century, it is usually much shorter than A. It usually
begins in a different key and often closes in yet a third key, and often
 35 Aria as drama

contrasts with A in musical ideas, meter and tempo, and accompanying

forces (which are often reduced). Then follows a repetition of the complete
A section, ritornellos and all; this was not written out, but indicated by the
direction “da capo al fine” or merely “da capo.”32
% %
Orch A1 Orch A2 Orch B Orch A1′ Orch A2′ Orch
Stanza 1 Stanza 1 Stanza 2 Stanza 1 Stanza 1
a a[, b] a a or c[, b] a d a a[, b] a a or c[, b] a
I I–V V –I I x–y I I–V V –I I

However (to repeat), the form is not at all as static and predictable as this
description implies. The musical ideas and topics, tempo and meter, and so
forth vary enormously, according to the character- and aria-type and the
dramatic situation – not to mention the inexhaustible variety of melodic
and motivic development, phrase-rhythm, and texture found in a master
such as Handel or Hasse. The orchestral forces range from continuo alone
through strings alone to fuller and more varied ensembles. Most importantly,
from the performative standpoint – and hence interest for an eighteenth-
century audience – the highpoint of an aria was precisely the section that
in an abstract diagram seems least necessary: the repetition of A. For it
was here above all that the singer dazzled, impressed, and moved the
audience, by tasteful and bravura embellishments of what had been sung
before.33

Dal segno form

In addition to the countless variations of form in individual arias, certain
variants of da capo form became formal types in their own right. Of these,
the most important was “dal segno” form: following the B section, the
repetition of A begins, not with the opening ritornello, but at a later point
marked with the sign (“segno”) %, most commonly the beginning of the
first vocal section (A1; see the first of the two signs in the diagram above),
although it appeared in other positions as well. This occurred occasionally
early in the century (for example, in Handel’s “Pensieri,” Example 2.1), but
became more common later, as the A section became longer and more
elaborate. In the second half of the century the reprise of A was often
truncated even further, with the % placed at or near the beginning of A2
(second sign in the diagram), with or without recomposition to account
for the fact in the full da capo A2 usually begins outside the tonic, or for
other reasons (the diagram below omits the ritornellos).
A1 A2 B A2′
I–V –I x–y I–I
36 James Webster

Two-reprise form and sonata form

The short dal segno just described is superficially related to another formal
type that became increasingly common after the middle of the century, the
two-reprise form. However, the latter resembles the binary forms found in
instrumental music: the ritornellos (except perhaps at the beginning) are
less important, and the first two vocal statements function more nearly
like two “paragraphs” of a single larger unit than like “A1” and “A2”;
indeed the second statement may be based on a contrasting musical idea
(hence “A” and “B” in the diagram below). Most important, it is B, not A,
that modulates to and cadences in the dominant; in this respect (not
necessarily in others), the succession A–B resembles a sonata exposition,
and the “rhyme” between the cadences of B, first in the dominant and then
in the tonic, creates a structure more nearly in two parts than in three, with
a sense of recapitulation at the end:34
A B A or C B
I–V x –(V7–) –I
And if at the end, rather than B alone, the entire first half (A–B) is repeated
in the tonic, the form superficially resembles sonata form, especially if the
return to A begins in the tonic (which however was only one of several
options).
A B A or C A B
I–V x–(V7–) I–I
Nevertheless, full-fledged sonata form was relatively uncommon, even in
Haydn and still more so in Mozart, in part because the middle section of
an aria is rarely constructed like a “true” development section (one aria
that comes close is Idomeneo’s “Fuor del mar”), in part because the final
section in the tonic often does not follow the course of the “exposition,”
and thus is best understood as a free reprise or “tonal return section”
rather than a recapitulation.35

Two-tempo forms
As noted above, in da capo arias the B section is often in a different tempo
(as well as contrasting in other ways). However, the concept “two-tempo
form” is ordinarily applied to arias that conclude in a tempo different from
that in which they begin; the majority of these date from the second half of
the century. This form is often “prefigured” in the text by features such as a
change of line-length or tronco rhyme (as in Fiordiligi’s “Per pietà”), or a
move from self-pity or despair to hope or resolution (as in the Countess’s
“Dove sono”); occasionally, three or more contrasting sections are
implied. Although many male buffo arias are in two tempi (for example,
37 Aria as drama

Figaro’s “Se vuol ballare”), the majority of these arias are for women,
primarily seria or other high-flown characters. The second tempo is
usually faster than the first (although there are exceptions, for example
Leporello’s so-called catalogue aria), and often in a different meter as well.
In one subtype the contrast is presented twice, producing an overall form
A–B | A–B; in this case the A section often modulates to the dominant and
the B section is in that key, producing a variant of two-reprise form (an
example from La buona figliuola is described below). More common,
especially in arias from the last quarter of the century, is a musically and
psychologically closer relation, in which the concluding fast section is not
merely a contrast or an exciting windup, but a culmination. The most
important type is the rondò, sung primarily by upper-class females at
moments of great internal conflict or pathos, most often towards the
end of the opera (for details see Table 2.1). The most common sectional
form is A B A | C (as in “Dove sono”), although there are many variants,
most of them more elaborate. Often, one or more instruments assume a
concertante role, frequently becoming an independent “agent” (as
described above).
The placement of the rondò towards the end of the opera and the
association with the prima donna made it a focus of audience anticipation
and attention, while the two-tempo plan with a bravura windup guaran-
teed a triumphant exit. This was an effective analogue to the earlier
practice of ending a da capo aria with the climactic improvised embellish-
ments of the A′ section, adapted to the distinctly different stylistic and
technical demands of late-century opera. Indeed, as the rondò became
increasingly long and elaborate towards 1800, it occasioned critical attacks
not unlike those to which the full da capo had been subjected at mid-
century. Nevertheless it triumphed historically as well as on stage, for it
led more or less directly to the cantabile/cabaletta aria–type of early
nineteenth-century Italian opera.

Handel, “Pensieri”
Let us consider two examples in detail: a da capo aria by Handel, from near
the beginning of the century; and, from the middle of the century, the set
of arias for Cecchina from Piccinni’s La buona figliuola. (Mozart’s mature
arias are too familiar to require extensive discussion in this context; many
have been cited above and in Table 2.1.)
“Pensieri” is drawn from Handel’s first great operatic success, the anti-
heroic Agrippina (Venice, 1709), to a libretto by Cardinal Vincenzo
Grimani.36 The title-character is married to the lazy and luxury-loving
38 James Webster

Roman emperor Claudio and schemes to secure the succession for Nero,
her son from a previous marriage. However, Claudio has promised the
throne to Ottone (lover of Poppea), who had saved his life during
the conquest of Britain. Towards the end of Act 2, Agrippina enlists the
gullible freedmen Pallante and Narciso each to murder both Ottone and
the other, hoping that all three will die and that Nero can win Poppea as
well as gain the throne. But, alone on stage – the aria is a soliloquy – she
finds to her dismay that she is not immune to fear.
[ottonario]
Pensieri, Thoughts –
Pensieri, voi mi tormentate.37 a Thoughts, you torment me.
Ciel, soccorri a’ miei disegni!38 b Heaven, support my plans!
Il mio figlio fa che regni, b Make my son rule,
E voi Numi il secondate! a And, you gods, aid him!
[versi sciolti]
Quel ch’oprài è soggetto à gran What I have done is a matter of
periglio. great danger.
Creduto Claudio estinto, I believed that Claudio was dead;
À Narciso e à Pallante Narciso and Pallante
Fidai troppo me stessa. I trusted too much.
Ottone ha merto, ed ha Ottone has [sufficient] merit, and
Poppea coraggio; c Poppea courage
S’è scoperto l’inganno, – If the plot were discovered –
Di riparar l’oltraggio. c To remedy the outrage.
Ma fra tanti nemici But among so many enemies,
A voi, frodi, or è tempo; For you, my strategem, the time
has come;
Deh non m’abbandonate! a Pray do not abandon me!
Pensieri, Thoughts –
Pensieri, voi mi tormentate. a Thoughts, you torment me.
The aria, unusually, begins immediately upon a change of scene with-
out recitative; its text properly understood comprises four lines with
rhyme-scheme a b b a (without tronco), except that Grimani – in an
open invitation to the composer – separated out the critical initial word,
“Pensieri,” as a “naked” initial line. Handel (to say the least) accepted the
invitation. The aria is in G minor; the ritornello for unison strings (viola
tacet) is a breathtaking representation of dark and troubled thoughts; the
motives, harmonies, and dynamics are disjunct and barely functional.39
The brief initial motives (implicitly forte), first on high and low G and only
then tentatively completing the tonic triad, are separated by rests longer
39 Aria as drama

Example 2.1 Handel, Agrippina, Act 2, aria for Agrippina, “Pensieri,” G. F. Händels Werke …,
ed. F. W. Chrysander (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1858–94), vol. 57

than themselves. An unexpected pp E♭ leads to a diminished-seventh

chord, again f, developing the sixteenths of mm. 5–6; it ends abruptly on
an ambiguous low C – subdominant or inverted diminished seventh? –
followed by another long rest. The concluding tonic enters elliptically,
with no functional dominant (note the sixteenth-note upbeat G in m. 11),
first in dotted rhythm from high to low G (recomposing the initial motive,
mm. 2–3, and only now supplying the pitch–class d), then on hammering
ff quarter-notes.
After this demonstratively extreme introduction, what can Agrippina
sing? Her initial “Pensieri” seems to adopt a different tone: conjunct and
40 James Webster

Example 2.1 (cont.)

41 Aria as drama

Example 2.1 (cont.)

coherently projecting the tonic triad from d down to g. However, like

the ritornello motives it is set off by long rests (as suggested in the
libretto) and is unaccompanied – except for a solo oboe, which unex-
pectedly enters as an echo, filling the empty space until the strings
repeat the initial motive on G. As so often, this prominent solo instru-
ment is an agent in its own right, not only reflecting Agrippina’s mood,
but uncannily suggesting her own troubled conscience, the very
thoughts that torment her; rarely have so few notes been used to such
powerful dramatic effect.40 Although her next phrase again begins on d, it
takes a different course, so that the isolated initial phrase is not a conven-
tional “motto” (as such a phrase is called when, after a pause, it is repeated,
only thereafter developing into a longer paragraph). Instead, it develops
42 James Webster

Example 2.1 (cont.)

into an immense, keening melisma which, counterpointed by the oboe,

stretches without (notated) rest all the way from m. 19 to m. 32, primarily
on the accented syllable of “tormentate.”
This outpouring is supported by unconventional harmonies with irregu-
lar resolutions and voice-exchanges (see Example 2.2), particularly in
mm. 22–9 over the chromatically descending bass from E♭ to A (iv6–V7/V);
after further complications, the latter resolves to the structural half-cadence
^
(2 in the melody) in m. 32.
^ ^
Agrippina’s troubles focus particularly on the half-step e♭–d (6–5). Her
initial d resolves the hitherto undisplaced pp e♭ from the ritornello, and is
caressed by a complete neighbor e♭. More subtle, but also more troubling,
43 Aria as drama

Example 2.2 “Pensieri,” mm. 19–32, harmonic and voice-leading outline

is m. 30, just before the half-cadence: e♭ (finally replacing the chromatic e)

0
moves to d on the third beat (a resolution of vii34 into V42, or an odd
échappée?), and then skips away to b♭, while the bass C rises irregularly
^
to C♯ (another troubled bass 4 in this aria; compare m. 10). The second
strain brings another melisma, almost as long as the first; subdominant
and Neapolitan harmonies prolong the dominant through m. 41 to m. 44;
^
then follows the [real] cadence (both again 2/V), and mm. 43–4 almost
literally repeat the odd progression e♭–d–b♭ over C from mm. 30–1.
There follows only an unadorned perfect authentic cadence, again
initiated by e♭, which descends by step from d to g (rhyming with the
initial “Pensieri” in mm. 15–16). Agrippina, exhausted by her tormented
melismas, can scarcely function: her first halting steps come too late
(e♭ belongs with F♯ in the bass, d with G); indeed, because of the preceding
^
prolongation of 2/V, her cadence (mm. 45–6) must stand for what would
ordinarily be the entire second half of a large-scale interruption
structure:41
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
5 4 3 2 5 4 3 2 1
i V i V i

The intensity is enhanced by the lack of a true medial or final tutti; Handel
merely reinforces the structural cadences in mm. 33–4 (compare 13–14)
and 46–9 (compare 11–14).
The A section sets only the first line of text, entirely self-absorbed; the
remaining three lines, outwardly directed toward the gods but actually no
less self-absorbed, are reserved for the much shorter and less highly
“marked” B section. As usual, this is in contrasting keys (B-flat to
D minor via C minor), meter (common time), and tempo (implicitly
44 James Webster

much faster), with a “running” eighth-note bass and syllabic, somewhat

breathless short phrases for the voice. The repetition of the first part is not
a full da capo, but dal segno from the vocal entrance (again following
silence); Agrippina’s initial d maintains the cadential d of the B section.
Although these relationships are not unusual, in this case the effect is to
concentrate the listeners’ attention unmediatedly on her obsession with
the thoughts that torment her.
However, it is not until the following recitative that Agrippina articu-
lates those thoughts. She has finally realized the risks she is running: her
henchmen Narciso and Pallante are unreliable, and Ottone and Poppea
have sufficient character and fortitude to expose and denounce her plot. In
these extreme circumstances, in a remarkable textual image she apostro-
phizes her own stratagem (le frodi): “Your time has come; do not abandon
me!” In turn, this text engenders an even more remarkable stroke. Perhaps
inspired by the fact that the last word of the recitative, “m’abbandonate,”
rhymes with “tormentate,” Grimani’s libretto (quoted above), in an almost
unprecedented license, repeats the iconic opening of the aria text,
“Pensieri, / Pensieri voi mi tormentate.”42 Handel seized this opportunity
and followed the recitative with a free, much shorter reprise of the A
section of the aria itself, with new and excruciating dissonant suspensions
in mm. 83–7. Measures 76–82 correspond to mm. 1–2 + 15–21; however,
instead of the subdominant as in m. 22, m. 83 substitutes the Neapolitan
(compare m. 43), and a structural half-cadence soon follows (mm. 86–7;
again with e♭–d–b♭). At this point, however, Agrippina forsakes
arioso style and reverts to recitative: see the orchestral rest following
the subdominant (m. 89), and the formulaic, syllabic, unaccompanied
setting of the final “mi tormentate,” complete with a conventional
^ ^
falling-fourth cadence from 8 to 5.43 This makes sense: dramaturgically,
we are still in recitative territory; indeed the aria reprise exhibits neither
a full surface form nor a background Ursatz (tonal-contrapuntal voice-
leading structure). Nevertheless, this final cadence is more cogent
musically than the final cadence of the original ritornello, which it
recomposes: instead of the ambiguous C of m. 10, a complete and
unambiguous subdominant triad; instead of the mere sixteenth-note G
as initial upbeat in m. 11, an eighth-note D – an implied dominant after
all! In the theater, the psychological effect of this unusual reprise is
overwhelming: as the text and dramatic situation imply, Agrippina
cannot loose herself from her tormented thoughts, even when generic
conventions would seem to dictate that she must do so. The aria is
dramatic through and through.
45 Aria as drama

Arias for Cecchina

Goldoni’s and Piccinni’s La buona figliuola (Rome, 1760), based ultimately
on Samuel Richardson’s novel Pamela (1741), was the smash operatic hit of
the 1760s. It perfectly captured the psychology – indeed the cult – of
sensibility that Richardson had unleashed, which remained important until
the end of the century; other important operas of this type are Mozart’s La
finta giardiniera (1775), Haydn’s La vera costanza (1779), and Paisiello’s
Nina (1789).44 Goldoni called his libretto a “dramma giocoso”; that is, a
primarily comic or sentimental action in which, however, in distinction to an
opera buffa, upper-class (“seria”) characters also appear; these could be
portrayed either “straight” or parodistically (Don Giovanni and Così fan
tutte bear the same generic designation).45 The heroine Cecchina, who is of
noble birth but knows nothing of her forebears, is employed as a garden-girl
by the Marchese della Conchiglia (“of the seashell”: many Goldonian char-
acters have humorous or self-describing names; indeed, although the
Marchese is nominally of high rank, his musical characterization is decidedly
mezzo carattere). Each is in love with the other, but Cecchina cannot admit
this even to herself, and the Marchese may not marry her because of her
ostensibly low status. The (predictable) denouement reveals her noble birth
(as the long-lost daughter of a German baron).
Cecchina’s arias illustrate how a sequence of separate numbers can
cumulatively convey a rich sense of character – in this case not lower-class,
but mezzo carattere. Her opening aria, “Che piacer, che bel diletto” (see
Example 2.3) is outwardly a simple servant’s song: F major, 3/8 meter,
Andantino, short, repetitive phrases.

[ottonario]
Che piacer, che bel diletto
È il veder[e] in sul mattino,
Colla rosa il gelsomino
In bellezza gareggiar!
E potere all’erbe, ai fiori,
Dir son io coi freschi
umori,
Che vi vengo ad inaffiar.
a What pleasure, what delight
b Is the sight on this morning
b Of the roses and the jasmine
c Competing in beauty!
d And, to the herbs and flowers, to be able
To say: it is I, with bright spirits,
d
c Who have come to water you.

But Cecchina is alone on stage, and sings without introductory recitative;

the focus is squarely on her (as is typical of “sentimental” heroines), and
will remain so. The text is not the utterance of a mere servant; it is self-
consciously pastoral and distinctly sophisticated (the roses and jasmine
46 James Webster

Example 2.3 Piccinni, La buona figliuola, Act 1, aria for Cecchina, “Che piacer,” MS copy, ed.
Eric Weimer (New York: Garland, 1983), 14, as published in Daniel Heartz, Music in European
Capitals (New York: Norton, 2003), 159

“compete in beauty,” and the syntax of the second stanza, which gramma-
tically depends on the initial “What pleasure,” is downright complex).
Certain musical details also establish Cecchina as a woman of sensibility
and taste: the long appoggiaturas in mm. 26 and 28, the ornamented
downbeats in mm. 27 and 31, the subtle bass line in mm. 28 and 32
(does the tonic resolution come at the downbeat F, with E merely a
neighbor; or is F an appoggiatura, with the real resolution delayed to the
third eighth in parallel with the voice?), and the independent orchestral
motives that begin the three subsequent phrases modulating to and caden-
cing in the dominant, producing five-measure units in mm. 33–47.
47 Aria as drama

Towards the end of the act, the Marchese’s sister Lucinda (a seria role)
discovers his love for Cecchina; appalled, she orders the poor girl to leave
her position and to go to her sister as gardener instead. The Marchese
enters; trapped between his feelings and his sister’s hectoring, he cannot
acknowledge Cecchina’s pain. Cecchina, devastated, can only sing an aria,
“Una povera ragazza.”
[ottonario]
Una povera ragazza, a A poor girl,
Padre e madre che non ha, b Who has neither father nor mother,
Si maltratta, si strapazza … a So mistreated, so abused …
Questa è troppa crudeltà! b This is too much cruelty!
Sì signora, sì padrone, c Yes, my lady; yes, sir,
Che con vostra permissione c – with your permission,
Voglio andarmene di qua. b I want to go from this place.
Partirò, – me ne andrò d I shall leave – I shall go
A cercar la carità. b To seek pity.
Poverina, – la Cecchina e Poor girl – Cecchina
Qualche cosa troverà. b Will find something.
Sì padrone, sì padrona, f Yes, sir; yes, madam,
So che il ciel non abbandona f I know that heaven does not abandon
L’innocenza e l’onestà. b Innocence and virtue.
(parte) (exit)
Although she is now singing to her employers rather than to herself, her
status as sentimental heroine comes to full flower (see Example 2.4).
The key is still F and the tempo still Andantino, but the meter has
become a deliberate 4/4, and Cecchina’s emotion is emphasized by an
ostinato thirty-second-note motive in the second violins that persists
throughout the aria, a technique that often connotes “otherworldly”
beauty46 – or, in this case, utter self-absorption. Note as well the “heavy”
root-position supertonic in the second half of mm. 1 and 5, and the
expressive tritones in mm. 6 and 7; no such emphases were heard in
“Che piacer.” Finally, in the larger dramaturgical context this is an exit-
aria, which closes the scene no less memorably than does Marchesa
Lucinda’s ensuing rage-soliloquy, “Furie di donna irata.”
Cecchina’s remaining two arias develop her character further. “Alla
larga signore” is sung to the Marchese just after he has (all too casually)
proposed to her, and dramatizes her rejection of this (as she believes)
socially inappropriate match. The aria is in two tempi in the form A–B |
A–B, the first A–B modulating to and cadencing in the dominant, and is in
B-flat; both features are ordinarily associated with higher-class characters
(both the Marchesa and Marchese have already sung arias in this key).
48 James Webster

Example 2.4 La buona figliuola, Act 1, aria for Cecchina, “Una povera ragazza,” MS copy, ed.
Eric Weimer (New York: Garland, 1983), 79–80, as published in Heartz, Music in European
Capitals, 161

The A section is a Sostenuto in 4/4 meter, features again associated with

seriousness, although Cecchina’s musical phrases, as is appropriate to her
status, are short and characterized by dotted rhythms. Later, in despair,
Cecchina wanders alone in a deserted landscape (“luogo solitario”); such a
soliloquy for a middle-class (or “middle-class”) heroine is found in most
sentimental operas, and is the dramaturgical counterpart of the rondò
described above. After a long recitative, in which she wishes only to
discover her father’s identity before she dies, she sings her final aria,
“Vieni, il mio seno,” to a single brief quatrain: “Come, sweet repose, to
console my breast so full of pain.” It is designated “Cavatina,” a sign of
high status,47 which is confirmed by every other feature: Largo con
49 Aria as drama

moto; the key of E-flat (associated with the hereafter), including several
passages in the minor; muted violins with another “dreamy” ostinato; and
(unusually) with obbligato flutes and horns. Following her cavatina
Cecchina falls into a deep slumber, during which she is found by the
Marchese and Tagliaferro (the German soldier who reveals the truth about
her origins); after the Marchese exits, Cecchina (now dreaming) astonish-
ingly reprises her cavatina in the key of D (!), while Tagliaferro sym-
pathizes with her plight. In Act 3 she and the Marchese are finally united,
in a long, four-part love duet.
Cecchina’s four arias thus portray her as a woman not only of “inno-
cence and virtue” (as she sings in “Una povera ragazza”) but of genuine
sentiment, whose “inner nobility” conforms to her origins and justifies her
union with the Marchese. Each aria presents a different aspect of her
character; indeed her nobility is dramatized in a large-scale crescendo,
for in each successive aria its signs are more numerous and less ambiguous
than before. No less clearly than in Mozart and Handel, if perhaps less
virtuosically, in La buona figliuola aria is drama.48