SOREN KIERKEGAARD Either/Or A Fragment of Life Edited by VICTOR EREMITA Abridged, Translated and with an Introduction and Notes by ALASTAIR HANNAY PENGUIN BOOKS2 THE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES OR THE MUSICAL EROTICTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 119 here by considering an often-made remark, that Moliére’s Don Juan is more moral than Mozart’s. However, if properly understood, this is precisely to eulogize the opera. In the opera there isn’t just talk of a seducer, Don Giovanni is a seducer, and one cannot deny that in its details the music can often be seductive enough. But that is as it should be, and this is exactly its greatness. To say, therefore, that the opera is immoral is a piece of foolishness originating in people who do not know how to grasp a whole but are captured by details. The definitive aspiration in the opera is extremely moral, and the im- pression it produces absolutely salutary, because everything is big, everything has genuine, unadorned pathos, the passion of pleasure no less than of seriousness, of enjoyment no less than of wrath. 3. The Inner Musical Structure of the Opera Although the title of this section may be thought self-explanatory, for safety’s sake I shall nevertheless point out that it is of course not my intention to give an aesthetic appraisal of Don Giovanni, or a demonstration of the dramatic structure in the text. One must always be very cautious in making such distinctions, especially with a classic work. For, as I have already frequently stressed in the foregoing and repeat yet again, Don Juan can only be expressed in music, something I have myself essentially experienced through the music, so I should guard in every way against giving the impression that the music enters from outside. If the matter is treated in that way, then admire the music in this opera as much as you will, you will not have grasped its absolute significance. [...] It is not my intention to examine the whole opera so much as the opera as a whole, not dealing with its single parts separately, but incorporating these as far as possible in my examination, so as to see them not apart from but in their connection with the whole. In a drama the main interest centres quite naturally on what we call the hero of the piece; the other characters assume only a subordi- nate and relative importance. However, the more the drama is pene- trated with the discriminatory power of its own inner reflexivity, the more the minor characters, too, assume a relative absoluteness, if I may so put it. This is by no means a fault, on the contrary it is an advantage, just as the view of the world that can take in only single outstanding individuals and their meaning for its development, but120 EITHER/OR not the common man, may in some sense be a higher way of looking at it, but is lower than one that includes what is less in its equally great validity. The dramatist will only succeed in this to the extent that there is no incommensurable remainder, nothing of the mood from which the drama proceeds, that is to say, nothing of the mood qua mood, but everything is converted into the sacred coin of the drama: action and situation. To the extent that the dramatist succeeds in this, the general impression his work produces will be correspondingly less a mood than a thought, an idea. The more the total impression of a drama is a mood, the more certain one can be that the poet’s own first intimation of it has been in the mood, and he has allowed it progressively to come into being from that and has not seized it in the form of an idea and let this unfold itself dramatically. Dramas of the latter kind suffer from an abnor- mal preponderance of lyricism. This is a fault in a drama, but by no means in an opera. What preserves the unity in the opera is the basic tone that carries the whole production. What has been said here about the total dramatic effect applies in turn to the drama’s individual parts. Were I to characterize the effect of drama in a single phrase, inasmuch as it differs from that produced by any other literary form, I would say that drama achieves its effect in contemporaneity. In drama I see mutually unrelated factors brought together in the situation, the unity of action. The more then the discrete factors are separated, the more profoundly the dramatic situation is interpenetrated with reflection, the less the dramatic unity will be a mood and the more a definite thought. But just as the totality of the opera cannot be brought fully to consciousness as in drama proper, so too with the musical situation, which though indeed dramatic has nevertheless its unity in the mood. The musical situation has contemporaneity just like every dramatic situation, but the effect of the forces is a simultaneous sound, a concord, a harmony, and the impression made by the musical situation is the unity achieved by hearing together what sounds together. The more the drama is interpenetrated with reflec- tion, the more the mood is transmuted into action. The less action, the more the lyrical element dominates. In opera this is quite as it should be; opera is less concerned with character delineation and action as its immanent goal; it is not reflective enough for that. OnTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 121 the other hand, in opera passion, unreflective and substantial, finds its expression. The musical situation lies in a unity of mood in the distinct voices. It is exactly the characteristic of music to be able to preserve the plurality of voices in the unity of mood.°? [.. .] Dramatic interest calls for a rapid forward movement, an excited rhythm, what one might call the immanently increasing tempo of the fall. The more the drama is interpenetrated with reflection, the more uninterruptedly it hurries along. If, on the other hand, there is a bias in favour of the lyrical or the epic element, this expresses itself in a kind of numbness which allows the situation to go to sleep, makes the dramatic procedure and progress slow and laborious. No such haste is inherent in opera; a certain lingering is characteristic, a certain self-expansion in time and space. The action lacks the pre- cipitancy of the fall, or its direction, but moves more horizontally. The mood is not sublimated in character and action. Consequently, the action in an opera can only be immediate action. Applying the above to Don Giovanni gives us an opportunity to see the latter in its true classic validity. Don Giovanni is the hero in the opera, the main interest centres on him. But that’s not all: he bestows interest on all the other figures. This is not to be understood, however, in a merely external sense; the very secret of this opera is that its hero is also the force animating the other characters. Don Giovanni’s own life is the principle of life in them. His passion sets in motion the passions of the others; it resonates everywhere, it resonates in and sustains the Commendatore’s earnest, Elvira’s anger, Anna’s hate, Ottavio’s self-importance, Zerlina’s anxiety, Masetto’s indignation and Leporello’s confusion. As the eponymous hero, as a hero in general, he gives the piece its name. But he is more; he is, if I may so put it, the common denominator. Compared with his, the existences of all the others are merely derivative. If we require of an opera that its unity be a tonality of mood, we see readily that no more perfect project can be conceived for an opera than Don Giovanni. For, in relation to the forces in the opera, this tonality might have been a third force sustaining these. I could mention The White Lady as a case in point,* but, in relation to opera, a unity of that kind brings in a further lyrical aspect. In Don Giovanni the tonality is nothing other than the primitive power of the opera itself; this is Don Giovanni, but again, just because he is not character122 EITHER/OR but essentially life, he is absolutely musical. The other figures in the Opera are not characters either but essentially passions PoOsited through Don Giovanni and are, to that extent again, musical. For as Don Giovanni entwines them all, so do they twine themselves round Don Giovanni; they are the outward consequences constantly posited by his life. It is this absolute centrality of the musical life of Don Giovanni which makes this opera exert a power of illusion as no other, makes its musical life transport one into the life of the play. Because of the omnipresence of the musical in this opera, one may enjoy any snatch of it and be instantly transported. One may enter in the middle of the action and instantly be at its centre, because this centre, which is Don Giovanni’s life, is everywhere. Well-attested experience tells us that it is not pleasant to strain two senses at once, and it is often distracting to have to make much use of the eyes when the ears are already occupied. We have a tendency, therefore, to close our eyes when listening to music. This is true of all music to some extent, of Don Giovanni in a higher sense. As soon as the eyes are engaged the impression gets confused, for the dramatic unity afforded to the eye is entirely subordinate and defective compared with the musical unity which is heard simultaneously. My own experience has convinced me of this. I have sat close up, I have sat further and further away, I have resorted to an out-of-the-way corner of the theatre where I could hide myself totally in this music. The better I understood it or believed I understood it, the further I moved away from it, not from coolness but from love, for it wants to be understood at a distance. For my own life there has been something strangely puzzl- ing about this. There have been times when I would have given anything for a ticket; now I needn’t spend even a penny for one. I stand outside in the corridor; J lean up against the partition separat- ing me from the auditorium and then the impression is most powel- ful; it is a world by itself, apart from me, I can see nothing, but am near enough to hear and yet so infinitely far away. Since the main figures in the opera do not need to be so inter penetrated with reflection that, as characters, they are transparent, it also follows, as was stressed in the foregoing, that the situation cannot be completely developed or full-blown but must to some extent be sustained by a mood. The same applies to the action in anTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 123 opera. What is called an action in a stricter sense, a deed undertaken in the consciousness of a purpose, cannot find expression in music, but only what one might call immediate action. Now both of these are true of Don Giovanni. The action is immediate action; here I must refer to the foregoing where I explained in what sense Don Giovanni is a seducer. Because the action is immediate action, it is also quite proper that irony should be so prevalent in this piece, for irony is and remains the taskmaster of the immediate life. Thus, to cite just one example, the return of the Commendatore is a mon- strous irony; for Don Giovanni can overcome every obstacle but we all know you cannot kill a ghost. The situation is sustained through- out by the mood. I must remind you in this connection of Don Giovanni’s significance for the piece as a whole, and of the relative existence of the other figures in relation to him. I will indicate what I mean by looking at a single situation more closely. For this purpose, I choose Elvira’s first aria. The orchestra per- forms the prelude, Elvira enters. The passion raging in her breast must have air, and her song helps her find it. This, however, would be far too lyrical really to form a situation; her aria would be like a monologue in a play. The difference would only be that the mono- logue in effect renders the universal individually, the aria the in- dividual universally. [. . .] In the background we see Don Giovanni and Leporello in tense expectation of the approach of the lady they have already seen in the window. Now if this was a play, the situation would not consist in Elvira’s standing in the foreground with Don Juan in the background, it would consist in the unexpected encounter, Interest would hinge upon how Don Giovanni was going to get out of it. The encounter has its importance in the opera too, but a very subordinate one. The encounter is there to be seen, thd musical situation to be heard. The unity in the situation is then the blending of voices in which Elvira and Don Giovanni are heard together. It is therefore also perfectly proper for Don Giovanni to stay as far in the background as possible; for he should not be seen, not only by Elvira but even by the audience. Elvira’s aria begins. Her passion I know no way of describing other than as love’s hatred, a mingled, but full-bodied, resonant passion. Her inmost being is stirred by turbulent emotions, she has found air, for a moment she grows faint as all passionate outbreaks enervate; there124 EITHER/OR follows a pause in the music. But the turbulence in her inmost being is sufficient to show that her passion has not yet found expression enough, the diaphragm of wrath must vibrate still more intensely, But what can call forth this agitation, what incitement? There can be but one thing — Don Giovanni’s mockery. Mozart has therefore made use of this pause in the music — would that I were a Greek, for then I would say, quite divinely — to fling in Don Giovanni’s Jecring laughter. Now passion blazes stronger, rages even more violently within her and bursts forth in sound. Once again it repeats itself; then her inmost soul trembles, and wrath and pain pour forth like a stream of lava in the celebrated run with which the aria ends, Here then we see what I mean when I say that Don Giovanni resonates in Elvira, that it is no mere phrase-making on my part, The spectator is not meant to see Don Giovanni, is not meant to see him together with Elvira, in the unity of the situation; he is meant to hear him inside Elvira, coming out of Elvira, for although it is Don Giovanni singing, the way he sings is such that the more developed the spectator’s ear the more it sounds as though it was coming from Elvira herself. As love fashions its object, so too does indignation. She is obsessed with Don Giovanni. That pause and Don Giovanni’s voice make the situation dramatic, but what makes it musical is the unity in Elvira’s passion, in which Don Giovanni resonates while it is nevertheless through him that her passion is posited. Musically conceived, the situation is matchless. But if Don Giovanni is a character and Elvira equally so, then it is a failure and a mistake to Jet Elvira unburden herself in the foreground while Don Giovanni jeers in the background, for that requires me to hear them together yet without my being given the means to do 50, quite apart from their both being characters who could not possibly harmonize in that way. If they are characters, then it is the encounter which forms the situation. It was remarked above that although opera does not call for the same dramatic urgency, the mounting acceleration of events, 3 drama, the situation can very well expand just a little. Yet this must not degenerate into perpetual stoppage. As an instance of the happy medium I can single out the situation just discussed, though not as if that were the only one in Don Giovanni, or the most perfect - quite the contrary, they are all like this and all perfect — but because theTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 12$ reader will remember this one best. And yet here I am coming to a touchy point; for I admit that there are two arias that must go, which, however perfect they may be in themselves, have neverthe- less an obstructive, retarding effect. I would gladly make a secret of this but there is no help for it now, the truth must out. If these are removed, all the rest is just as perfect. One of them is Ottavio’s, the other Anna’s; they are both more like concert pieces than dramatic music, just as Ottavio and Anna are far too insignificant figures to justify holding up the action. When they are removed the musical- dramatic pace of the rest of the opera is perfect, perfect as no other. It would be well worth the trouble of going through each indi- vidual situation individually, not to accompany it with an exclamation mark but to show its significance, its validity as a musical situation. That, however, is beyond the scope of the present little inquiry. What is especially important here is to highlight the centrality of Don Giovanni within the opera as a whole. Something similar recurs with regard to the individual situations. I shall throw a little more light on this centrality of Don Giovanni in the opera by considering the other figures in the work in their relation to him. As in a solar system, the dark bodies receiving their light from a sun in the centre are always only half illuminated, on the side facing the sun, so too with the figures in this piece. Only that aspect of life, that side, which is turned towards Don Giovanni is illuminated; otherwise these figures are dim and obscure. This must not be understood in the restricted sense as though each of them were one or another abstract passion — as though Anna, for example, were hate, Zerlina frivolity. Here, least of all, is the place for examples of such poor taste. The passion in the individual is concrete, though concrete in itself, not concrete in the figure; or, to express myself more distinctly, everything else in the figure is swal- lowed up by that passion. That is absolutely right, because here we are dealing with an opera. This obscurity, this partly sympathetic, partly antipathetic mysterious communication with Don Giovanni makes all of them musical, and has the effect of making the whole opera consonate in Don Giovanni. The only figure in the piece who seems an exception is, naturally, the Commendatore; but that too is why it is so wisely planned as to have him lie to some extent outside the piece, or circumscribe it; the more the Commendatore was126 EITHER/OR brought to the fore, the more the opera would cease to be absolutely musical. So he is always kept in the background and as indistinct as possible. The Commendatore is the powerful antecedent and the fear- less consequent between which lives Don Giovanni's middle Premiss, but the rich content of this middle premiss is the substance of the Opera, The Commendatore appears only twice. The first time it is night, itis at the back of the stage, we cannot see him but we hear him fall to Don Giovanni’s sword. His gravity, made all the more strongly apparent by Don Giovanni’s parodying mockery, is something Mozart has already splendidly expressed in the music; already his Seriousness is too profound to be that of a human being; he is spirit even before he dies. The second time it is as spirit that he appears, and the thundering of heaven resounds in his earnest, solemn voice, but as he himself is transfigured, so his voice is transformed into something more than human; he speaks no more, he judges. Next to Don Giovanni the most important character in the piece is clearly Leporello. His relation to his master is explicable precisely through the music; without music it is inexplicable. If Don Giovanni were a reflective individual, Leporello would become almost a greater scoundrel than him; then it would be inexplicable how Don Giovanni was able to exercise so much power over him, the only motivation left being his ability to pay him better than anyone else —a motivation that even Moliére seems not to resort to, since he has his Don Juan financially embarrassed. If, on the other hand, we continue to identify Don Giovanni as the life of immediacy, we easily grasp how he can exercise a decisive influence upon Leporello, that the latter assimilates him so completely that he almost becomes one of Don Giovanni’s functioning parts. In a sense Leporello comes nearer to being consciously personal than Don Giovanni, yet to be that he would have to be clear about his relation to the latter; but that he cannot manage, he is unable to break the spell. Here too it is the case that whenever Leporello is given spoken lines he has to be transparent to us. Even in Leporello’s relation to Don Giovanni there is something erotic, a power with which he is captivated against his will, but in this ambiguity he is musical and Don Gic- yanni constantly resonates through him. I shall offer an example later to show that this is no mere phrase-making on my part. With the exception of the Commendatore, everyone is in someTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 27 kind of erotic relationship to Don Giovanni. Over the Com- mendatore he cannot exercise any power, for he is consciousness. The others are in his power: Elvira loves him, which puts her in his power; Anna hates him, which puts her in his power; Zerlina fears him, which puts her in his powcr; Ottavio and Masetto go along with him for the sake of brotherhood-in-law, for the ties of blood are tender. If I look back now for a moment upon what has been expounded, the reader will perhaps see how, here again, the matter has been explicated from many sides: what relation the Don Juan idea bears to the musical, how this relation is constitutive of the whole opera, how this is repeated in the individual parts. I could gladly stop at this point, but for the sake of even greater completeness I shall shed light on the matter by examining some individual pieces. The choice will not be arbitrary. I take the overture, which really lays down for us, in a tightly concentrated form, the tonality of the opera’s mood. Next I take the most epic and the most lyrical moments in the work, in order to show how the perfection of the opera is preserved, the musical drama maintained, even at its extremes, and how Don Giovanni sustains the opera musically. This is not the place for a general account of the part played by the overture in opera. All we can single out here is the circumstance that the fact that an opera needs an overture is enough to show the preponderance of the lyrical, and that the effect thus aimed at is the evocation of a mood, which is something drama cannot take upon itself, since there everything must be transparent. It is appropriate, therefore, that the overture be composed last, so that the artist himself can be properly permeated with the music. So the overture generally affords an opportunity to gain a deep insight into the composer’s soul and its relation to his music. If he hasn’t succeeded in grasping its centre, if he has no deeper rapport with the basic mood in the opera, this will betray itself unmistakably in the overture; it will then be a random compilation of the salient points based on the association of ideas, but not a totality containing, as it really should, the most profound illumination of the music’s content. An overture of that kind is therefore as a rule also entirely arbitrary; it can be as long or as short as it likes, and the collative element, the element of continuity, since it is only an association of128 EITHER/OR ideas, can be made to spin out as long as may be. To inferior composers the overture is therefore often a dangerous temptation, for they are led to plagiarize themselves, pick from their own pockets, something that causes much confusion. While clearly the content of the overture should not be the same as the opera's, neither, of course, should it be anything absolutely different, [ts content should be the same but in some other way. It should contain what is central to the piece so that this can seize the listener with all its might. In this respect, the ever-admired overture to Don Giovanni is and will remain a perfect masterpiece, so that if no other proof were afforded of this opera’s classic status, it would suffice to single out this fact alone, namely the inconceivability of the one who holds the centre not also holding the periphery. This overture is no mere fabric of themes, it is not a labyrinthine hotchpotch of associations; it is concise, resolute, powerfully structured; and above all it is impregnated with the essence of the whole opera. It is powerful as the thought of a god, stirring as the life of a world, trembling in its carnest, quivering in its passion, crushing in its terrible anger, inspir- ing in its zestful joy; it is sepulchral in its judgement, strident in its lust; it is unhurriedly solemn in its imposing dignity; it is stirring, shimmering, dancing in its joy. And it has not achieved this by sucking the blood of the opera; quite the contrary, it is prophetic in its relation to the latter. In the overture, the entire compass of the music unfolds; it is as though, with a few mighty wing-beats, it hovered over itself, hovered over the place where it is to alight. It is a contest, but a contest in the higher regions of the air. To someone hearing the overture after making closer acquaintance with the opera, it might perhaps seem as if he had found his way into the hidden workshop where the forces he has come to know in the opera display their primal energy, where they vie with one another with all their might. Yet the struggle is too unequal, one power is already the victor before the battle, it flees and gets out of the way, but this flight is precisely its passion, its burning unrest in its brief moment of delight, the quickening pulse in its passionate heat. It thereby sets the other power in motion and sweeps it along with it This latter, which seemed at first so unshakeably firm as to be almost immoveable, must now be off, and soon the movementTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 129 becomes so fast that it seems like a real contest. To express more of this is an impossible task; all one can do here is listen to the music, for the contest is not one of words but a raging of the elements. Except that I must draw attention to what was made clear earlier, that the opera’s focus is Don Giovanni, not Don Giovanni and the Commendatore. This is already evident in the overture. Mozart seems to have carefully constructed it in such a way that the deep voice which resonates at the beginning grows gradually weaker and eaker, almost loses, as it were, its majestic bearing, has to hurry to able to keep up with the demonic haste which eludes it yet almost gains the power to degrade it by dragging it, in the brevity of an instant, into a race for a wager. With this, the transition to the opera itself gradually takes form. Consequently, one must conceive the finale in close relation to the first part of the overture. In the finale the gravity has once more come to itself, while in the course of the overture it is as though it were outside itself. There is no question now of running a race with passion; earnest has returned and has thus cut off every avenue to a new competition. So, while in one sense independent, the overture is to be regarded in another sense as preliminary to the opera. I have tried in the foregoing to remind the reader of this by refreshing his memory of the progressive diminutions in which the one power approaches the beginning of the opera. Similarly when one observes the other power; it grows progressively larger. It starts in the overture, it grows and increases. What is particularly admirable is the way in which this, its beginning, is expressed. We hear it intimated so faintly, so mysteriously; we hear it but it is gone so quickly, so what we get is exactly the impression of having heard something we haven’t heard. It takes an attentive, an erotic ear to catch the first hint given in the overture of the light play of this desire, which is later expressed so richly in all its extravagant abundance. I cannot say exactly to the dot where this place is because I am not expert in music, but then I am writing only for those in love, and they will surely understand me, some of them better than I understand myself. Still, I am content with my appointed lot, with this enigmatic infatuation, and although I usually thank the gods that I was born a man and not a woman, Mozart’s music has taught me that it is beautiful and restorative and rich to love like a woman.130 EITHER/OR 1 am no friend of metaphors, modern literature has given me a great aversion to them; it has come almost to the point where, every time I come upon a metaphor, I am seized by an involuntary fear that its true purpose is to conceal an obscurity in the thought, | shall therefore not venture upon an indiscreet or fruitless attempt to translate the overture’s energetic and terse brevity into long-winded and platitudinous figures of speech; I single out just one point in the overture, and will employ a metaphor to call the reader’s attention to it, that being the only means I have for putting myself in touch with him. This point is naturally none other than Don Giovanni's first outburst, the premonition of him, of the power with which he later emerges. The overture begins with distinct, deep, serious, uni- form tones; then for the first time, infinitely far away, we hear a hint which nevertheless, as though it had come too early, is instantly recalled, until later, again and again, bolder and bolder, louder and louder, one hears that voice which first slyly and coyly, and yet as though anxiously, gained access but could not force its way through. Thus sometimes in nature one sees the horizon heavy and lowering. Too heavy to support itself, it rests upon the earth and hides every- thing in its dark night; distinct hollow sounds are heard, yet not in movement but like a deep rumbling within itself — then one sees at the furthest bounds of the heavens, far on the horizon, a flash; swiftly it runs along the earth and is gone in the same instant. But soon it returns, it grows stronger; for a moment it lights up the whole heaven with its flame, the next instant the horizon seems darker than ever; but swifter, even more fiery it blazes up; it is as if the darkness itself had lost its calm and was getting into motion. As the eye suspects in this first flash a conflagration, so the ear in that dying strain of the violin stroke has a presentiment of all the passion. There is an apprehension in that flash, it is as if in the deep darkness it were born in dread — such is Don Giovanni’s life. There is a dread in him, but this dread is his energy. It is not a subjectively reflected dread, it is a substantial dread. In the overture we do not have - what we commonly say without realizing what we say — despalt Don Giovanni’s life is not despair; it is the full might of sensuality, which is born in dread, and Don Giovanni is himself this dread, but this dread is precisely the demonic joy of life. After Mozatt his brought him thus into existence, Don Giovanni's life evolves for usTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 131 in the dancing tones of the violin in which he lightly, casually, hastens forward over the abyss. As when one skims a stone over the surface of the water, it skips lightly for a time, but as soon as it stops skipping, instantly sinks down into the depths, that is how Don Giovanni dances over the abyss, jubilant in his brief respite. But if, as indicated above, the overture can be considered a preliminary to the opera, if in the overture one climbs down from these higher regions, the question is where best in the opera to alight, or how to get the opera to start. Here Mozart has seen the only right way: to begin with Leporello. It might seem that there was no great merit in this, inasmuch as practically all adaptations of the Don Juan story begin with a monologue by Sganarelle. How- ever, there is a big difference, and here again one has an opportunity to admire Mozart’s mastery. He has placed the first servant-aria in immediate conjunction with the overture. This is a rare practice; here it is entirely appropriate, and it casts a new light on the overture’s construction. The overture is trying to set itself down, to find a foothold in the action on the stage. The Commendatore and Don Giovanni have already been heard in the overture; next to them Leporello is the most important figure. He, however, cannot be raised up into that battle in the airy regions, and yet he is more closely involved than any other. So the action begins with him, in such a way that he is linked immediately with the overture. It is quite correct, then, to count Leporello’s first aria as belonging to the overture. This aria corresponds to the not-unnoted Sganarelle mono- logue in Moliére. We shall examine this situation a little more closely. Sganarelle’s monologue is far from unwitty. [...] On the other hand, the situation is defective. [. . .] I say this not to find fault with Moliére but to show Mozart’s merit. A monologue is always more or less of an interruption in the drama, and when, for effect, the writer tries to do this through the humour in the monologue itself, instead of through the character, then he has irrevocably condemned himself and abandoned the dramatic interest. In the opera it is otherwise. Here the situation is absolutely musical. I have previously drawn attention to the difference between a dramatic and a dramatic-musical situation. In drama no idle talk is tolerated, what are needed are action and situation. In opera the situation contains a breathing space. But then what makes it a musical situation?132 EITHER/OR It has been stressed earlier that Leporello is a musical figure, and yet it is not he who sustains the situation. If it were, his aria would bg analogous to Sganarelle’s monologue, even though that would show equally that a quasi-situation of this kind works better in opera than in drama. What makes the situation musical is Don Giovanni, who is in the house. The crux of the situation lies not in Leporello who draws near us, but in Don Giovanni whom we do not sce ~ byt whom we hear. Now one might well object that we do not in fact hear Don Giovanni. To this I would reply: we do indeed hear him, for he resounds in Leporello. To this end I shall draw attention to the transitions (voi star dentro colla bella),41 where Leporello js obviously reproducing Don Giovanni. But even if this were not so, the set-up of the situation is such that we get Don Giovannj anyway, forgetting Leporcllo who is outside the house because of Don Giovanni who is inside it. Altogether, Mozart with true genius has let Leporello reproduce Don Giovanni, thus achieving two things: the musical effect that wherever Leporello is alone we hear Don Giovanni; and the parodying effect that when Don Giovanni is there too, we hear Leporello rehearse him and thereby unconsciously parody him. As an example I would mention the close of the ball. If anyone asks what is the most epic moment in the opera, the answer is unquestionably Leporello’s second aria, the list. We have already stressed earlier, by comparing this aria with the correspond- ing monologue in Moliére, the absolute importance of the music, and how, by letting us hear Don Giovanni, letting us hear the variations in him, the music produces an effect of which the spoken word or the dialogue is incapable. Here it is important to emphasize both the situation and its musical aspect. If we now look at the stage, the scenic ensemble consists of Leporello, Elvira and the faithful servant. The faithless lover, on the other hand, is not there, for, as Leporello fittingly puts it, ‘he is off’, This is a virtuosity possessed by Don Giovanni, he is there and then — he is off, and he leaves the scene as conveniently (that is, for himself) as a Jeronimus arrives upon it.42 Now, since it is obvious he is not there, it may scem strange that I mention him and bring him in a sense into the situation. But, on second thoughts, we may perhaps see that this is just as it should be, and see in it an example of how literally weTHE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 133 must take Don Giovanni’s omnipresence in the opera. For one could hardly give a more striking indication of this than by drawing attention to the fact that he is there even when he is away. But let him be off now, all the same, so that we can see later in what sense he is present. We look instead at the three figures on the stage. Elvira’s presence naturally contributes to forming a situation, for it would not do to have Leporello unroll the list just to kill time. But the position she is in also contributes to making the situation a painful one. The mockery occasionally made of Elvira’s love is undeniably close on cruel. Thus in the second act where, at the decisive moment, when Ottavio has finally got the courage in his heart and the sword from its scabbard to slay Don Giovanni, she throws herself between them and discovers that it is not Don Gio- vanni but Leporello, a difference Mozart has indicated so strikingly with a kind of whimpering bleat. Thus in the situation we are examining there is something painful too, that she should be present to learn that in Spain the number stands at 1,003; what is more, in the German version she is told indeed that she is one of them. This is a German improvement as foolishly indecent as the German translation itself is no less foolishly, ridiculously decent and a total failure. It is to Elvira that Leporello gives an epic survey of his master’s life, and one cannot deny that it is entirely proper that Leporello should recite it and Elvira listen, for they are both exceed- ingly interested. Therefore, as we constantly ‘hear’ Don Giovanni throughout the entire aria, so too in places we ‘hear’ Elvira, who is now visible on the stage as an exemplary witness, not because of some accidental merit on her part, but because, since the method remains essentially the same, one example does for all. If Leporello were a character or person permeated by reflection, it would be hard to imagine such a monologue, but it is just because he is a musical figure, who is submerged in Don Giovanni, that this aria has so much meaning. It is a reproduction of Don Giovanni's whole life. Leporello is the epic narrator. Though such a one should indeed not be cold or indifferent to what he tells, he ought to be able nevertheless to maintain an objective attitude towards it. This is not the case with Leporello. He is totally diverted by the life he describes, he forgets himself in Don Giovanni. So here I have another example of what it means to say that Don Giovanni _"44 HITHER/OR resonates everywhere. The situation therefore consists not in Lg rello and) Elvira’s preoccupation with Don Giovanni, but j in te Mood sustaining, the whole, in Don Giovanni's invisible, » Siting presence, ‘Vo ive a more detailed account of how this aria develo, of how it begins peacefully, with little agitation, but becomes mg and more inflamed as Don Giovanni's life resounds i Increasing, within it; of how Leporello is more and more distracted by i wafted away in and rocked by these erotic breezes, of the nuance, contains as the differentiations of womanhood that come within Do Giovanni's scope become audible in it — for here is not the place, If anyone asks what is the most lyrical moment in the opera, te answer might be more doubtful; while on the other hand it ca hardly be open to doubt that Don Giovanni must be conceded th most lyrical moment, and that it would be a breach of drama ranking were it granted to a minor character to engage our attention in this way. Mozart, too, has realized this. The choice is thus cn. siderably restricted, and on closer inspection the only possibilities ar either the banquet in the first part of the grand finale or the familar champagne aria. As far as the banquet scene is concerned, this may indeed be regarded as a lyrical moment; the feast’s intoxicating cordials, the foaming wine, the festive strains of distant musi, everything unites to intensify Don Giovanni’s mood, as his own festive gaiety throws a heightened glow over all the enjoyment, a enjoyment so powerful in its effect that even Leporello is transfigured in this rich moment which is the last smile of gladness, the lt farewell to pleasure. On the other hand, it is more of a situation tun a sheerly lyrical moment. This, of course, is not because thes eating and drinking on stage, for that in itself is very inadequitt terms of a situation. The situation consists in Don Giovanni's bens torced out to lite’s furthest point. Pursued by the whole world, ts victorious Don Giovanni now has nowhere to stay except asl secluded room. It is at the extreme tip of life’s see-saw that, om again, for lack of lusty companionship, he excites every last of life his own breast. If Don Giovanni were a drama, then this inte! unt would have to be made as brief as possible. In the opera, on che ott hand, i¢ is proper that it is maintained, glorified by evety post exuberance, which only sounds the wilder because, for he specta WW reverberaces in the abyss over which Don Giovaani is hovel’THE IMMEDIATE EROTIC STAGES 135 It is otherwise with the champagne aria. One looks here in vain, I believe, for a dramatic situation. But it has all the more significance as a lyrical effusion. Don Giovanni is wearied of the many intersect- ing intrigues; on the other hand he is by no means spent, his soul is still as vigorous as ever, he has no need of convivial society, to see and hear the foaming of the wine or to fortify himself with it; the inner vitality bursts forth in him stronger and richer than ever. Mozart constantly interprets him ideally, as life, as power, but ideally in opposition to a reality; here he is as though ideally intoxi- cated in himself. If all the girls in the world surrounded him at this moment he would be no danger to them, for it is as though he is too strong to want to turn their heads, even reality’s most variegated enjoyment is too little for him compared with what he enjoys in himself. Here is the clear indication of what it means to say that the essence of Don Giovanni is music. He dissolves before us into music, he dilates into a world of tones. This has been called the champagne aria, and that is undeniably very apt. But what is especially to be noted is that it stands in no accidental relation to Don Giovanni. This is his life, foaming like champagne. And just as the bubbles in this wine, while it seethes in inner heat, sonorous in its own melody, rise and continue to rise, so the desire for enjoyment resounds in the elemental boiling that is his life. What gives this aria ' dramatic significance is not the situation, but the fact that here the keynote of the opera sounds and resounds in itself. PLATITUDINOUS POSTLUDE Assuming what has been elaborated here is correct, I return once again to my favourite theme, that among all classic works Mozart’s Don Giovanni stands highest. I shall rejoice once again over Mozart’s good luck, a fortune which is truly enviable, both in itself and because it brings fortune to all those who only moderately grasp his good fortune. For myself, at least, I feel indescribably fortunate in having even remotely understood Mozart, and in having gained some intimations of his good fortune. How much more so, then, those who have perfectly understood him, how much more for- tunate must they feel with that fortunate man.