To Understand Verdi and Wagner We Must Understand Mozart James Webster 19th-Century Music, Vol. 11, No. 2. (Autumn, 1987), pp. 175-193. Stable URL hittp://linksjstor-org/sici?sici=0148-2076% 2819872329 11% 3A2%3C17S%3ATUV AWW %3E2.0.CO%3B2-0 19%h-Century Music is currently published by University of California Press. Your use of the ISTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR’s Terms and Conditions of Use, available at bhupulwww.jstororg/about/terms.hunl. JSTOR’s Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of « journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial us. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at hutp:/wwww jstor.org/jounals/ucal html, Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission, JSTOR is an independent not-for-profit organization dedicated to ereating and preserving a digital archive of scholarly journals. For more information regarding JSTOR, please contact support @jstor.org, hupslwwwjstor.org/ Fri Nov 10 10:17:48 2006Viewpoint To Understand Verdi and Wagner ‘We Must Understand Mozart JAMES WEBSTER ‘One of the most vital and interesting areas of musical research today is the analysis of nine- teenth-century opera, particularly the operas of Verdi and Wagner. But this fruitful activity has so far been compromised by a marked ambiva- lence toward current traditions and methods of analysis, which, it is claimed, are oriented pri- marily toward the instrumental music of the Classical period, and hence in many crucial re- spects are irrelevant to these different reperto- ries. This defensiveness is unnecessary, particu- larly in view of the existence of a third repertory, which bridges this apparent gap— Mozart's operas. These, astonishingly, have never been much analyzed; such analysis, I will argue, would be centrally relevant to nine- teenth-century operatic research Many recent authorities on nineteenth-cen- tury opera use what they describe as the domi- nant tendencies of current analysis as a kind of negative example, whether as a basis for com- plaint or as a backdrop against which newer, as- sertedly more relevant methods can emerge. Jo- seph Kerman laments the hegemony of an “old monism’’ and a“German tradition” which con- strain us to treat Verdi like a “Richard- [Wagner|-come-lately,” and asserts that many scholars feel obliged to attempt to show his op- eras “to be constructed according to the same principles as those manifest in a Beethoven 19th-Contury Music XU2 (Fall 1987), © by the Regents of the University of California. symphony or a Wagner music-drama.”" Roger Parker decries the transfer of “terminology we associate with the architectonic principles of Beethoven. . . to Verdian opera with no thought for the different weight even such basic words as ‘tonic’ might have in the changed context.” ‘Anthony Newcomb sees Wagner as “tending to avoid [static form]... .inthe architectural sense, represented for music by . .. most purely for- malist analysts,” and he assigns a central role to ambiguity and multiplicity of function: “To ask, ‘What is the form [of this unit]?’...is. ..to ask the wrong question.” And Carl Dahlhaus has been insisting for more than two decades on the fundamental differences between late nine- teenth-century ‘symphonic’ form, in which the ‘web’ of motifs is the basis of inner cohesion, and [Classical period] ‘archi tectonic’ form, consisting of a discernible grouping, - of distinct components. ... By abandoning four- ‘Square compositional construction ... Wagner re pounced an archteetoni foundation for musical ‘The examples could be multiplied. "Joseph Kerman in “Viewpoint,” this journal 21978), 190— 91, Parker, “Levels of Motivie Definition in Verdi's Ernani,” ibid. 6(1982, 141; Newcomb, The Birth of Music ‘ut ofthe Spit of Drama," bid. 5 [1981], 40 and 4 (con: {ated here), idem, "Those mages That Yer Fresh Images Be fet," Journal of Musicology 2 {1983}, 237, Carl Dahlhaus, "Wagner, Richard,” The New Grove, ed. Stanley Sadie (Lon 125, ef, "issues in Compost tion," in his Between Romanticism and Modernism, tt Mary Whittall (Berkeley, 1980), pp. 40-78, 175On the other hand, there is little agreement as to just who is on the side of the angels. Ker- ‘man, criticizing what he regards as bad analysis of Verdi, includes Wagner himself as a central figure in dominant Germanic traditions, in Ver- di’s day as well as ours, that must still be re- sisted. Parker speaks of Beethoven purely para- digmatically, as if his status as an opposite to Verdi were self-evident; the reader can only guess whether he is meant to contrast Beethoven the Classical composer with Ro- ‘mantic ones, or Beethoven the symphonist with operatic composers, or Beethoven the German with Italians—or what. Wagnerites, for their part, can scarcely avoid immersion in Beethoven's legacy, but precisely for this reason they are hopelessly ambivalent about the rele- vance of the Classical instrumental tradition to his music-dramas. More telling, they pay little or no attention to Italianate traditions (except toexplain away the embarrassing Rienzi), and it has never occurred to them to compare his ma- ture music-dramas to the contemporary works of Verdi. Thus each camp exhibits a neurotic at- titude toward the composer-hero from the op- posite side of the Alps: the Verdians explicitly, through fear and loathing of imperialistic Ger- ‘man monism in composition and analysis; the Wagnerites implicitly, through repression of the Other. Given the traditional views of Verdi and Wagner as compositional and cultural oppo- sites, this antagonism hardly seems surprising. ‘What is surprising, and seems not to have been noticed, is that the analytical intentions and methods of both camps are nonetheless closely related. The issue of tonality is central. Most nineteenth-century scholars now agree that, al- though the keys in an opera are always of struc- tural importance in some sense, and often of dramatic importance as well, few operas can meaningfully be said to be “in’’ a key. Even within single scenes, tonality is usually said to function differently from Classical instramen- tal music. Regarding Un ballo in maschera, for example, Parker and Matthew Brown conclude that no single tonic applies even to act I, let alone to the whole opera. And although Edward T. Cone assumes that an entire opera (say, Otello} might be in a single key, he acknow!- 176 edges that many do not attempt such a thing, and he outlines numerous conditions that must be satisfied before we should even consider the possibility.” These are Verdians; it is more remarkable to encounter similar conclusions in recent studies of the arch-perpetrator of the Gesamtkunst- werk, Dahlhaus describes Wagner's tonality in Schoenbergian terms as “floating,” “wander- ing” in a no-man’s-land between vitiated func- tionality and incipient atonality; the sections of a scene or act are merely “linked” to one an- other, not generated by a central controlling so- nority. Newcomb agrees that Wagner's tonality tends not to operate functionally over large spans; the closest he comes to usingiit asa form- creating force is in “arch forms,” articulated by contrast between firmly tonal pillars at the be- ginning and end of a section and more unstable Passages in between.? Even Robert Bailey, whose focus on the relation between genesis and structure reflects the influential traditions of Beethoven scholarship (exceptionally in this, context], agrees with Dahlhaus and Newcomb in rejecting Alfred Lorenz's notoriously unmu- sical claims for long-range tonics and symmet- rical forms in Wagner. He analyzes several en- tire acts as based on double major-minor tonics—the first act of Tristan in C and A, the second of Die Meistersinger in Gand E, the first of Gétterdiimmerung in ES and B—but in so do- ing he implicitly denies the possibility of a sin- le unifying tonic.‘ Both camps agree further that operatic form is not to be understood as “organic” or “‘uni- 2Parker and Brown, "Motivie and Tonal Interaction in Un balloin maschera,” Journal ofthe American Musicological Society 36 1983), 243-65, esp. 262» Cone, "On the Road to Otello: Tonality and Structure in Simon Boccanegra.” ‘Studi verdian! 1 (1982), 72-98 SDahlhaus, “Issues,” pp. 69, 66, The New Grove, vol. 20, 123. Newcomb, "Birth of Music,” pp. 49-50, 53-54 ‘Robert Bailey, The Genesis of Tristan und Isolde and a Study of Wagner's Sketches and Drafts for the Frst ct (PhD, diss, Princeton, University, 1969), pp. 147—59 |e. his "Norton Critieal Score” edn of the Prelude and Isolde's tuansfiguration [New York, 1985], pp. 121-26), "The Struc ture of the Ring andits Evolution "thisjournal 1 (197), 59— 61 for his rejection of Lorenz, seep. 54,1. 12), The Meister Singer analysis was presented at a Comell University conferenceon Verdi and Wagnerin 1984, butwill not appear {in the published proceedings [for which seen 9),tary,’” but as something which arises [if at al) it: complex and often mysterious ways from pat- ternings in numerous musical and dramatic do- mains. These include the verbal structure of the text, the dramatic functioning of the text, the stage action, theatrical effects, the use of instru- ‘ments and orchestral color, pattems of promi- nent pitches in the vocal parts, changes of ‘tempo, musical ideas and their development, and, of course, tonality—understood in at least three different senses: “expressive,” “associa tive,” and structural.* The patternings need not be congruent and may at times even conflict, but this complexity is a primary source of the richness and multiplicity of meaning which the best operas achieve. This empirically promis- ing, if doubtless unwieldy notion of form—let us call it the “complex additive” or “‘multiva- lent’ principle—seems to be emerging as a po- tentially dominant, new analytical paradigm for both Verdi and Wagner, in such authors as Parker, Newcomb, and Harold S. Powers.* The first act of Tristan offers. striking exam- ple. On the basis of musical recurrences and tonal relations, Bailey cogently analyzes the act (in which he includes the Prelude as an integral part) as bipartite, the beginning of the second partis articulated by the return of the Prelude at its original pitch-level, precisely when Brangine refers to the magic potions for the first time |"Kennst du der Mutter Kiinste nicht?” But Arthur Groos, a scholar of German litera- ture, persuasively interprets the libretto— omitting the prelude—as having five parts, defined both by the changing constellations of ‘on-stage and off-stage characters and by the [theatrically and psychologically decisive) openings and closings of the curtain which sep- arates Isolde’s chamber from the rest of the ship.’ The “midpoint” articulation so impor- On “expressive” and “associative” tonality, see Bailey, “Structure ofthe Ring," pf. ‘Parker, asin an, 1-2, Newcomb, "Birth of Music,” pp. 43— 50, 64, “images,” pp.233~34, 23745, Powers, "'La solita forma’ and ‘The Uses of Convention,” Acta Musicologica 49 (1987), 65-90. haley, “Genesis,” pp. 147-59; Groos, “Appropriation in Wagner's Tristan and Parsifal," to appear in Reading Opera ed: Parker and Groos (Princeton University Press scheduled for 1988). The papers in this vol. were originally read at @ conference at Comell University in October 1986, tant in Bailey's analysis vanishes somewhere in the middle of his third unit. (Groos also help- fully analyzes the poetic diction, for example, the progression from consciousness to supra- consciousness in the lovers’ parallel words at the climax of each act: “Du mir einzig bewuSt” (1), “Ewig einbewu8t” [Il], “unbewuBt” (Il, Clearly, an appropriate combination of both in- terpretations—along with others—would be more illuminating than either taken by itself. The principle of “additive” analysis also seems related to the common if underexplica- ted) metaphor that Wagner's music-dramas function as “webs”: as developmental proc: esses contingently dependent on ever-meta- morphosing thematic ideas and ever-fluctuat- ing, partially nonfunctional harmonies. These “webs” foster the multitudinous, noncon- sgruent designs in different domains which pre- vent premature or unwanted closure and hence forestall the emergence of “architectonic” form. Once again, the same notion is invoked on the other ide of the Alps: “Verdi's treatment of tonality and motive is best expressed meta- phorically as a complex web of interlocking re- lationships” [Parker and Brown, p. 263}. But if Verdians and Wagnerites agree on all this, why don’t they begin to collaborate? A crit- ical point (as I see it] is that Wagner studies, de- spite the Teutonic apparatus, give analysts of Italian opera no reason whatever to feel defen- sive. Despite the efforts of Lorenz, Rudolf Réti, and other fanatics, whose approaches are now rejected on every side, nobody has ever demon- strated anything resembling “organic unity” (or any other kind) in Wagner;* even Schenkerians (see below) have just recently begun to ac- knowledge his existence, in contributions which, so far, are notably tentative and do not go beyond single scenes. This apparent lack of formal unity in Wagner's operas positively un- Figs Si miocore,or® piu belo, d & 5 9 Both: Ah!ilmattinoallenozzevicino, ¢ 10 Quanto edoleealfmioftuoltencro f ‘pono 1 Questobelcappellinovezzoxo 12 CheStsannachastessasiie—b Im structure, the first two stanzas are chiastic: in each, the two characters alternate on the Arst two “Verbal to Musical Drama: Adaptation ot Creation!” in Drama, Dance and Music, ed James Redmond (Cambridge, 1981), pp. 148-52, "Social Tensions in Le Nozze di Figaro,” Musié © Letters 50 (1969), 45-62 leptin essentials in Sig hifier and Signified, ch.) and the last two lines, but in reversed order. They are further linked by their almost identical final ines, which establish the single-syllable rhyme b asa kind oftefrain, while emphasizing the pronouns "me" and "te," which, even though both refer toher, indirectly signal the larger issue of Figaro's and Susanna’s rela tionship. The last stanza has the same rhyme- scheme as the second, and the refrain-like b rhyme recurs as its lat line ("f"). On the other hand, the last refrain shifts from eight-syllable to tenvsyllable lines, which, along with the change to simultaneous ‘utterances, implies a change of “being” or state of mind (a musical change) at the end of the number.* As a whole, the text incorporates a progression from self-centeredness through communication to under- standing: in the fist stanza, each character speaks ‘only a sé stesso; in the second, each addresses the ‘other; in the last, they speak identical loving words. A different progression, however (this has been re marked), is that Figaro gives up his measuring in fa vor of admiring her hat—which, even at the end when they speakin unison, remains the subject, thus confirming her primacy. The refrain lines them- selves create this progression; all three praise the hat, ‘but, whereas lines 4and8 are passive (‘It eems made just for me/you”} line 12 switches to the active voice ‘and names the lady, with emphasis: “(What a pretty hhat] which Susanna herself has made!” Mozart's duet see ex. 1} “composes out” both pro: sressions {from discord to concord, and Susanna’s ‘rowing primacy). Itis in a kind of binary form, with ‘the main ideas I and 2 introduced in an orchestral ri- tomello {the cadential 3 is derived from 2 but func tions differently) The vocal exposition sets the first two stanzas to the same material, in two similar but discrete musical paragraphs. The fist remains in the tonic; Figaro measures on theme 1, then Susanna primps on 2 and cadences on 4. Inthe second, how: ‘ever, we modulate to the dominant, where Figaro ad ‘mires her hat on 2 and also cadences with 4, But this exposition also initiates the drama. The first para sraphestablishes the characters as distinct personali ties—Figaro’s awkward, disjunct “measuring” mo- tive 1 has little in common with Susanna’s legato 2—who are at odds: he measures while she admires herself in the mirror; neither pays attention to the ‘ther; they sing separately and to different words. ‘The second paragraph at first intensifies the confit although they vocally overlap, they still pay no atten: tion to each other, with inereasing urgency, she asks ‘him to admire her hat (on theme 5, derived from 1), but he stolily wilfully?) remeasures the entire span, all the way onto the dominant of the dominant. Only then, perhaps weary of her hectoring, does he (we as sume look at her and respond, on theme 2, complete with the psychologically and musically ‘confirma tory cadence 4. As has been noted, their first interac- tion thus comes on her theme 2in the dominant and, *Lowe this observation and others as well) to Parker. 183 ‘VIEWPOINTtote CENTURY MUSIC wr pew ae Bas car wr {5 po se So onto Te Ip 1a 1s 187 ett Example 1: Mozart, Le nozze di Figaro, no. 1 (duettino}, itmust be added, hercadential 4, indeed, andin con- formity with the implications ofthe text, Figaro per- rmanently gives up his theme 1. ‘What has not been noted is cha, from this point ‘on, all the parameters develop in concert to prepare their moment of union. So far, both characters have spoken only "past each other."'Following Figaro'sea- dence, they begin to speak to each other forthe first time (mm, 56-59), sulin the dominant. Then she takes the lead on theme 2 |m. 596); two measures later he follows in parallel tenths {a sure sign that they are making up). But the words [lines 4 and 7] are stil drawn from the ist two stanzas, worse, in their first duetsphrase (mm. 61b-63a| they are not the same, they don’t even thyme! Then (mm. 63-673) they join on virtually identical words (the refrain- lines 4 and 8), but they ae till stuckin stanzas 1 and 2. Nor, despite the parallel tenths is there musical resolution, the entie passage (mm 59-67}isadomi- nant retransition, undoubtedly a preparation for e- Tease, but, equally surely, a delaying of its attain- ment. That climactic moment is withheld for the sequel {m. 675). Both characters, still singing in tenths, begin the last stanza in verbal unison=at the very moment of musical recapitulation according to the “sonata principle” the rerurn inthe tonic of Sus- anna’s theme 2, which has remained unresolved Since its appearance in the dominant. And several cli- zactic statements of the cadential theme 4 (which also requires recapitulation duly follow. The retran- sition and reprise thus reflect, in microcosm, the form of the number as a whole: separate utterances, simultaneous singing on different words, joint sing” ing on almost identical words, resolution “The musical setting ofthe refrain lines also artic ulates the progression. In the exposition, each char acter sings one separately, in the dominant reransi- fon, they join o ines 4 and, i he seeapiulation, cY sng line 12 again and again asthe clinching ca dence. In addition, Figaro notonly abandons theme bout, inthe climactic reprise section, both characters almost rush through lines 9-11 inorder to have time forfivefull statements of "Susanna's” refrain line 12 and its musical cadence 4, including the otherwise 184 ‘unmotivated, fragmentary ejaculations “Susanna / ella tessa" in mm. 7778. (The textual implication ofa musical ‘change of being” at the end is thus not realized conventionally, say by anew tempo or mate- al, butby this recapitulation itself, The proof is that the rushed declamation of lines 911 actually sup- presses the metric distinction; they sound no differ- ent from the prevailing ottonarii, with four musical accents in each phrase, every hal-bar, just as in lines 3-4 and 7-8, Susanna is indeed shown to be shrewder than Figaro, indeed to be the dominant partner in the relationship (as is amply confirmed throughout the opera). Bue this dramatic event is the result of a progression toward tonal and formal reso- lution—an inherently musical process, intelligible only on the basis of close analysis. At the same time, this modest progression toward resolution really does prepare the many later, more important ones— not only dramatically, but musically, as recapicula- tions, Many, perhaps even most, moments of reso- lution in Mozart occur at or within recapitula- tions. Kerman argued this case in the 1950s, us- ing the trio “Ab taci, ingiusto core” from act Il of Giovanni as his chief illustration, and con- cluding, “the dramatic flexibility of the genre can be demonstrated properly only by a cata- logue raisonné of Mozart's ensembles.’ Rosen. followed with splendid accounts of the sextets from Figaro and Don Giovanni,”” and Allan- brook’s analyses are nothing if not detailed. But still today, nobody has attempted that cata- logue raisonné. Moreover, as suggested above, the principle of recapitulatory resolution (or cli- ‘max| applies in many of Mozart's arias as well Opera as Drama, pp. 80~90 (the quotation from p. 86) The Classical Style, pp. 293-302.(The freedom which makes this possible also depends centrally on his boundless flexibility of motivic development and of phrasing and ca- dential patterns, which I cannot discuss here.) ‘And Hunter has shown that the same principle governs the later sections of Haydn’s arias. In the Classical period, it would appear, dramatic fitness entails free recapitulation. v Freely constructed or “through-composed”” music is also common in Mozart's operas. In technique, the colloquy in recitative between ‘Tamino and the Priest in the finale to act I of Die Zauberflote is as pure an example of “music drama" as anything in Das Rheingold. How is it organized? Is it in a key, and if so, which? Does it exhibit musical form in any meaningful sense? Or does it perhaps refuse to do so, to dramatize Tamino’s as-yet unfulfilled search? But in the latter case, what holds the music to- gether? Where do we seek that coherence which Mozart himself claimed that opera must always maintain—"Music,” he wrote, in a sentence ‘more often quoted than used as a starting-point for study, “even in the most terrible situations, must never offend the ear, but must please the hearer, or in other words must never cease to be music””—and which we moderns believe, al- ‘most as an act of faith, that he always achieved? (Wolff's analytical remarks, in the article just cited, are devoted solely to the prosody, the use of instruments, and certain motivie correspon dences. One finds almost nothing about the tonal plan, and nothing whatever about overall construction or form. Nor does he discuss, ex- cept in the most general terms, the relation be- tween the dialogue and the rest of the scene, of which itis an integral part, as we shall see.] ‘One must begin, as always, with the text and the dramatic situation. The recitative does not stand alone. It is the middle section of the first scene of the finale, whose themes, age-old, are central to the drama: a quest and a reversal, See Christoph Wolf, ..Zum Verstindnis der Sprechers- zene (in der} Zauberfove”in Analysen’... Festschnife Hans Heinrich Eggebreche....ed. Werner Breig eta. Stutt gar, 1984), pp. 234—47, "Letter to Leopold Mozart, 26 September 1781, with respect to Osmin'sage-cabletato his act arian Die Esfhrang Tamino, a noble but ignorant and impetuous youth, is searching for Pamina in order to rescue her from Sarastro; but he discovers not only that his beliefs regarding the character and motives of her abductor are wrong, but that he must un- dertake a completely different kind of quest— for enlightenment. The text (following the mor- alizing introduction by the Genii] comprises three main parts (see table 1, p. 186). First, Tamino soliloquizes: (1) he gets his bearings and admires the temples and their inscriptions (eight lines), and (2) resolves co press on (four lines). This, monologue culminates in his approaches to the three temple doors in turn {the first of several symbolic “cad” inthis scene, of the kind found throughout the opera). Then follows his dialogue with the Priest—the first stage in Tamino’s enlightenment, which incorporates three distinct phases. (3) The Priest, rejecting Tamino’s superficially noble words, informs him that Sarastro rules in the Temple of Wis dom. (4) Tamino, devastated, denying reality, tums to go; but the Priest intervenes, interrogating him. about his knowledge and motives, and eventually ac: Knowledging that Sarastro did abduct Pamina. (5) ‘Tamino, in a fist sign of health, now questions the Priest about Pamina’s fate, and receives oracular an- swers, the last of which confirms that she is alive, he joyfully chanks the unseen priests and the Almighty (6). The scene concludes with his second monologue, in a quite different mood from the first, comprising (7} his flute serenade and his regret at Pamina’s ab- sence; (8) his calls for her and the answering flute dia logue; and (9) his peroration, organized around three cexclamatory, increasingly ecstatic lines, all begin- ning with "Vielleicht"—arguably another “triadic” ‘manifestation, at the climax of the scene. But the construction of this text isnot as symmet- tical a5 the formula “‘monologue-dialogue-mono- logue” implies. Both “joints” are complex, involving two shouts of 'Zurtick!” from an unseen priest just before the visible Priest’s entry they virtually form a part of it), and two oracular utterances from an un- seen chorus of priests just after his exit, continuing and climaxing his answers to Tamino’s questions. ‘Tamino's lines 6, following the final choral answer, are also transitional: they round off the dialogue (he «gives thanks for the good news, but they also prepare ‘leave out of account here the efecto the different poetic ‘meters [primarily thee-foot vs four fot ines) onthe form ofthis ext, Thave not seen the textual variants in Simrock’'s late 1814) publication, recendly proposed as authentic by Michael Freyhao in "Toward the Original Text of Mozart's Die Zauberfote.” Journal of the American Musicological fete 39198}, 355-60, ects no noteworthy variants act S15, 185 VIEWPOINTa CENTURY ‘MUSIC Intropuction (Gent) Sei standhaft. ..und verschwiegen! Dann, Jingling, wirst du manalich siegen MoNoLocue: TAMINO THE UNWISE AS RESCUER 1 a Die Weisheitslehre dieser Knaben Sei ewig mir ins Herz gegraben. b_Doch zeigen die Pforten—es zeigen die Siulen, da Klugheit, und Arbeit, und Kunste hier weilen, [Hier] erhalt das Laster seine Herrschaft nicht leicht, 2 Ich wage mich mutig zur Pforte hinein. Paminen retten ist mir PAicht, [Approaches Door 1/"Zurlck!"/Door 2/"Zuriick!” Knocks on Door 3/...] Diatocue: Reversa Was willst du kihner Fremdling hin? Was suchst du hier im Heiligeum? ‘Der Lieb’ und Tugend Bigentum. Die Worte sind von hohem Sinn — Allein, ... Tod und Rache dich entzinden. Sarastro herrscht im Weisheitstempel hier! ya Soist denn alles Heuchelei! (tries to leave) Ich will gehen... nie euren Tempel sehn! Wenn du dein Leben liebt,... bleibe da! [Sarastro] ist ein Unmensch, ein Tyrann! Ist das, was du gesagt, erwiesen? .. Durch ein unglucklich Weib erwiesen, Olegte... . Sarastro dir [seine] Absicht fair! Die Absiche ist nur allzuklar! Ri er| nicht... Paminen aus der Mutter ‘Ament Ja, Tingling, was du sagst ist war! nysyas a 2 5 aT: Woistsie? schon? Pr: Dirdies zu sagen ist mir nicht erlaubt T: Wann also wird die Decke schwinden? Pr: Sobald dich fihre der Freundschaft Hand Ins Heiligrum 2um ew gen Band. (exit) Oeew’ge Nacht! wann wirst du schwinden? ‘Wann wird das Licht mein Auge finden? Ch: “Bald, Jungling, oder nie!” T: ,.“Lebedenn Pamina noch? ‘Ch: “Pamina lebet noch!” ‘Man opferte vielleiche sie bT: REACTION AND PREPARATION 6 Sie lebt! Sie lebt! Ich danke euch daft. OfkGnnte] ich... mit jedem Tone meinen Dank schilder wie er [aufs Herz deutend) hier ‘entsprang. Monotocue ‘TAMINO THE NEOPHYTE AS ORPHEUS 7 olay is fie wid animals appear and is ten) Wie stark ist doch dein Zauberton, Weil, holde Flote... ., wilde Tiere Freude fuhlen, Doch nur Pamina bleibt davon. 8 Paminal Hore mich! ‘Umsonst! —Wo find ich dich! (plays) (Papageno plays offstage} Ha, das ist Papagenos Ton! b _Vielleiche sah er Paminen schon! Vielleicht elt sie mit ihm zu mir! Vielleicht fihrt mich der Ton 2u ihr! Table 1 his serenade [he takes the flute out and announces his solo: “mit jedem Tone ... Dank schildern”) Moreover, Tamino undergoes a progression: from impetuous unwisdom through confrontation with enlightened authority to initial (inadequate) under- standing. His very playing of the magic flute at the end—itishis first ‘performance’—symbolizes this; the dancing wild animals are a magic-theater version ‘of the Orpheus legend. (The topos recurs shortly af terward, when Papageno plays his glockenspicl to subdue ‘Monostatos and the slaves] Nor is this a ‘mere stage-trick to delight Schikaneder’s suburban. audience. The flute is also the agent of Tamino's search for Pamina (for true love]; moreover, in a po- etic transformation, it even becomes the talisman of their successful trials in act I. The power of music itself, symbolized by the flute, becomes their guide: 186 “"Wir wandern durch des Tones Mache / Proh durch des Todes distre Nacht.” {The densely woven llter- ative opposites are almost Wagnerian,| And ‘Tamino's last line in our scene wonderfully con- denses the same themes: "Perhaps the sound [of the {lute will lead me to her [and to enlightenment}"In auticulating this progression by means ofthese cen- tual symbols, the scene asa whole—notjust the re tative-—is a microcosm of the entire opera. (Wolff, Owing tohis focus on the dialogue alone, doesnot dis uss the theme of the power of music or its symbol, the magic flute) ‘The music of the scene might seem to be organized symmetrically, as an A~B~A: the long accompanied recitative stands in the middle, contrasting with the Genii music and the final ‘flute’ section, both of1 tro, |Monoione | Donne eae tie ae |e i Dowse ea es ons ens Fas as lo aaa a2 Me ach evn pvr |v ' i Example 2: Mozart, Die Zauberflote, act i, finale, Tamino and the Priest. which are in C major and cadence conclusively there. From this perspective the Genii, who in the libretto merely set the stage, are essential to the structure. (Their ethereally wise music, of course, is a central element of Sarastro’s enlightened realm.) But in fact, the construction is much more complicated. A sim: ple but telling indication is Mozart's treatment of the ‘two joints cited above, At the end of Tamino’s first monologue, his successive approaches to the three temple doors are faithfully [and wonderfully) com: posed: “"Zurick” is sung twice and then, unexpect edly and decisively, given by the orchestra, all three fon false cadences. But at the end of the dialogue, as wehave seen, there are only two choral answers. The Priest's preceding exit answer ("Sobald ... ew'gen Band” does not create a textual grouping with them: itis by no means his first answer, itis azhymed coup- let instead of a single line, and when the chorus speaks he has already disappeared. Nevertheless, ‘Mozart sets his answer to the same oracular music, anticipating theirs; he thereby creates not only musi- cal continuity across the dramaturgical division, but another “triad’—three oracular utterances—at the ‘crux of the scene. The opera thus establishes a larger parallel, lacking in the text, between the two drama- ‘turgical transitions: three attempts to enter the tem- ple doors; three oracular answers. Finally, the musical setting of the linking text- section 6 is also multivalent. In recitative style, it concludes the dialogue, of which it isan integral part ‘gesturally and texturally. On the other hand, it un mistakably re-establishes C major, concluding there ‘with a massive cadence, itis thus tonally linked to the ensuing serenade. (Mozart could have pointed it toward a big cadence on or in G, preparing the C-ma- jorserenade but not being tonally part oft, buthe did not.| And the flute music is not recapitulatory, it uses new thematic material and is the musical cli- max of the scene. In a manner recalling Newcomb's conclusions regarding Wagner, itis thus impossible to locate “the” point at which the middle section ends and the final one begins. The musical form of the scene ia progressive and as tatly drawn asthe iramatic content. ‘The recitative proper does not merely follow the text word for word and line for line. In such basic musical aspects as the succession of keys and the organiza- tion of Tamino’s vocal part (and not only thesel, its large-scale construction is powerful and intelligible (see ex. 2). As one might expect, the initial passage (Tamino’s first monologue] is the clearest. The first textual section [1] is set as a single paragraph [mm, 39-56), moving from C to a strong articulation of G ‘major in the arioso section beginning at mm. 50-51, simultaneously with the first change in tempo (Alle” sro}; it concludes with the first strong root-position cadences in the recitative (53-54, 55-56. Befitting ‘Tamino’s resolve, the latter of these accelerates, and the next paragraph (Allegro assai, m. 56) grows di- rectly out of it, still arioso and with even heavier scoring and greater activity in the orchestra; it ends with a second pair of even stronger cadences, in D ‘major (59-64, 67~68]. This textual unit of two sec: tions is thus set as two congruent paragraphs, mov- ing from C major to G and then to D. What could be clearer? How more appropriately dramatize ‘Tamino’s impetuosity than with these forward driv ing modulations by upward fifth? And yet, how bet- ter portray the unsound basis of his hopes than to land on the dominant of the dominant, as a key, the ‘one tonal relation which (as Tovey insisted) can hardly ever assert itself as areal” tonic? ‘The sequel proves that, indeed, D major was an unsafe place from which to launch a rescue mission, As the repeated cries of “Zurick!”” undermine ‘Tamino’s hopes, the root-progression now descends inexorably through five thirds ina ow, all the way to Ab (m. 85}, an apparently inexplicable tritone away from D. But this Ab is the Priest’s entry chord (Ada gio), andit immediately reveals itselfas the subdom nant of Eb—the tonic of the opera jf Parker will in dulge me), and indisputably its “associative” tonal symbol of enlightenment (as Bailey would say), The tonal meaning is unmistakable: the Priest ends his first utterance [3a in the text) on the word ““Pliligtum,’ precisely at the firm cadence on Es {m. 88), and Tamino’s well-meaning reply (88-90) re mains in that key, with a perfect authentic cadence. IIe is accompanied by clarinets and bassoons, in a reminiscence of the final section of the quintet ear- lier in act I, when the three ladies advised him and Papageno to follow the Genii—themselves, as we now know, symbols of enlightenment; cf. Wolff, 187 VIEWPOINT1p. 246,| And Eb is more stable than Tamino's falsely active G and D; the entire paragraph corresponding to this section of text 3} ends there as well, just as the Priest completes his final, devastating response, “[Sarastro} herrscht im Weisheitstempel hier!” To Tamino, however, Eh is paradox: it is but remotely and obscurely connected to the D whence he came, both asa key relation and in terms of his continually rebuffed descents on the way to its mysterious sub- dominant Ab. At this point, itis no more real to him than his understanding of Sarastto or his enlighten: ment ‘Thenext section of dialogue dramatizes Tamino’s bafflement, outrage, and frustration. His outburst "$0 ist denn alles Heuchelei” [m. 101] immediately plunges into a musical dark night of the soul—in a distant Bh minor, troubled, tremolo-racked, ambigu: ‘ous. From this point on, all the main Keys are minor, ‘many progressions are obscure or disruptive, and there is no tonal stability until the oracular answers in A minor. Yet Tamino maintains his urgency, for he sll moves almost exclusively by nig At, struggling up toward clarity from Bb minor (mm, 101-04) through F minor (mm. 105-10), C minor mm. 110-12], Gminor(mm, 112~20], FmajorandD ‘minor|mm, 131-25), and A minor(mm. 126~25), all the way to Eminor|mm. 131-33}. Tamino himself— the searcher—causes most of these key changes; the Priest, who knows where he is, is usually content to sing in whatever Key as just been established. Fi nally, E minor is eransformed into the dominant of A ‘minor (m. 136]; the Priest's oracular answer follows directly. ‘A minor is the only important key in the recita tive which is prepared by its own dominant function: ing as a half cadence—as a form-defining arrival {The earlier cadences in G,D, and Bs simply incorpo- rated plain dominants within progressions long since under way.) At the climax ofthe recitative, Tamino's arrival at this (unexpected) goal—answers to his {questions—is thus set in the strongest key yet heard. AAs his original descent traversed a tritone from D to ‘Ab, this musical “dark night” traverses another: from the Eb of anenlightenment which he cannot yet understand, to an A minor in which his questions re- ceive answers which, however baffling, will be the basis for his eventual understanding, [Some possible Schenkerian implications of the tonal organization ‘of the scene are suggested by the open noteheads and dashed lines in ex. 2; discussion of these and their role in the musical drama must await another occa sion.) The shape of the music is congruent with that ‘of the drama, but it far exceeds the latter not only in immediacy and emotional resonance but in cogency ‘as well Ie ruly “never ceases to be music.” Another basic organizing feature of this scene— ‘again involving the two C-major sections as well as the reitacve ls he eau of amino’ vosal part, especially its highest notes. The Genii’s music ‘establishes and maintains a prominent high pedal on. 188 & In the recitative (see ex, 3a), Tamino's very frst note is g; more important, his frst high note, in the next bat, i a prominent g!, complete with fermata, on the ostensibly prosaic syllable “mir” (as several authors have noted with astonishment). In the mon- logue and the fist (Es) section of the dialogue, this, high gt returns in each of the cadential passages de scribed above—and there alone (ex. 3), all these phrases have a similar profile, an upward arpeggia- tion tog followed by adescent, often spanninga sev- tenth. Ie also occurs in the fist stage of his desperate reaction (4al,on the phrase “nie euren Tempel sehn,” atthe climax of his attempt to run away. The latter is a near recall of his opening utterance, complete with the fermata; compare ex. 3a and. It is immedi- ately preceded by his distraught “Heuchelei,” m, 101, on which his gis transformed into the minor mode mixture gh" over the tremolo—his initial plunge into the dark night.) The pitch g indeed isan- hored in Tamino’s character: it is equally promi- nent in his terror ofthe serpent inthe introductory scene and in his aria "Dies Bildnis.” ‘After his anguished reaction, however, this high register drops out completely. It is as if, during his caisis of belief, Tamino can no longer really sing Only during his outpouring of thanks (6 following the choral answers does he find his voice again; this entite speech vaults consistently upward [sec ex. 4), climaxing on a long g' land even all on the key thoughts “mit jedem Tone” and “hier [von meinem Herz|entsprang,” The overall curve ofthis ine, skip- pingup tot, then down a seventh [and here also up a Seep to all and then cadencing in recitative styl, is ‘very similar to the earlier passages shown in ex. 3a/e ‘And in this very moment of spintual resolution, C major is triumphantly restored—neither in the dia- logue proper, nor in the subsequent stable flute sere- nade, but during this “formally” least strongly pro filed paragraph of all. Even the oracular A minor seem to fit: itis so close to Cthat the answers given there can lead Tamino logically, indeed now effort: lessly, to coherent tonality “The opening flute solo ofthe concluding section sg0es right back up to g, emphasizing it again and again, Tamino’s slightly embellished restatement (mam. 172, 184} adds the neighbor a! (touchingly transformed to ab! when he realizes Pamina is not wich ln mm, 19, 191i more imploring sub {quent calls for her maintain ehe high register in five ‘hferent measures. Finally Papageno answers, and ‘Tamino’s joyous peroration knows no restrain (see ex.5):his threefold "Vielleicht” mounts straight up a ninth from g to a'—fermata,ff—and in his threefold repetition ofthe climactic phrase "{Vielleiche) fre mich der Ton zu ihr, he belts out three final times (with a again), his voice practically breaking for joy at the final cadence. (Many singers have indeed neatly given out by this point, The phrase is thus a Iierocosm of the action musically aswell as ext ally. tis also strikingly similar in construction to the earlier joyful conclusion of the recitative; com:VIEWPOINT b.mm. 51-54 c.mm, 59-67 mm, 104-06 ewe ee nan Sewn Her ben, Wo Tighe tone and Mine, wei {enw eres, an ek Ne aon Tempe eh! Example 3: High g! and its contexts (up to the crisis; sections 1-4a). ae it jetem Tone Example 4: Tamino’s thankful reaction (section 6). pare ex. 5 and 4.| leven think it possible, in this con- text, to interpret that puzzling high “mir” at the be- Binning of the recitative. It opens the series of prominent high g's we have just traced, a series which begins in false belief, passes through darkness, and ends triumphantly in true belief. At rst, Tamino (“mir"| knew nothing; now he has almost found Pamina—his rhyme |“2u ihr’, his love—and entered on the path to enlightenment, and he will, ‘win both through the tones of the magic flute [and his, ‘own|. Among all these tones, however, one counts the most: g! itself leads Tamino to Tamina (see ex. 6. 189= h CyViecht ath Pamen schon! GWM lt le mit hm ami! COV, Te = he Example 5: Tamino’s peroration (section 9b}. it jotem Tone tamten (om een) Example 6: High g! and the dramatic themes of the scene. ‘Many of Mozart's concerted numbers incor- orate through-composed passages. Kerman, for example, has recently discussed the recitative and duet between Don Ottavio and Donna ‘Anna in Giovanni (no. 2} in these terms."! But he assumed that such irregular or arioso writing, within a number is unusual, whereas in fact itis, common, especially in those crucial recapitula- tory passages. Recitatives run the gamut from simple interjections through significant events (for example, the Count's discovery of Cheru- ino in Figaro, no. 7 to entire numbers such as Sat a symposium, “Biography and the Work of Art: The (Case of Mozar,” Rutgers University, 1984 (unpublished). 190 those just cited and discussed. They suggest that Mozart's musical drama does not alternate schematically between “pure” recitative and “full” concerted music, but rather operates along a continuum, in which the style and tex- ture constantly change as the sense warrants. Allanbrook’s analysis [pp. 292-318] of the through-composed ombra music in Don Giovanni, as a mixture of “modern” and “ar- chai” topoi governed by chromatic chaconne bass patterns, is a big step forward. But so far this and all other such analyses remain isolated land in some respects problematical) efforts. The general issue still begs for systematic treat- ment.vi The question of “unity” in Mozart's operas as, ‘a whole is also wide open. An elaborate sympo- sium held at the Mozarteum in Salzburg in the early 1970s was unable to achieve a consensus ‘on either motivic unity or coherence of tonal plan.” After a period of efflorescence in Lorenz, Levarie, and Noske, motive-mongering in this repertory seems to have gone into a well-de- served decline. Regarding tonal coherence, Heartz has demonstrated wonderful things in Idomeneo (seen. 17), particularly how A and Eb, themselves forming a tritone, function as “complementary” inflections to D major (the one harmonic, as dominant; the other melodic, as expressive half-step], correlated with salient differences of character and dramatic context. But he seems to assume uncritically that D ma: jor functions as “the” tonic of the entire opera, in a manner that would be found unacceptable in the methodologically more sophisticated world of Verdi scholarship. (The same difficulty attaches to McClymond’s schematic overviews of tonal successions in Jommelli [pp. 275-302}.) Of course, agree that the possibility of over- all coherence in Jdomeneo is surely given, and that (as in any Mozart opera] tonality is bound tobe a central aspect of whatever coherence we may discover. The consistently flat-side orien- tation of Figaro’s and Susanna’s music in act IV of Figaro, as they find their way toward resolu- tion, would seem incontrovertibly to possess dramatic point (see Allanbrook’s discussion, pp. 159, 167-85}. And the dramatic role of D minor in Giovanni and Eb in Zauberflote would seem tobe beyond cavil. julian Rushton's interesting discussion of relationships between the finale of Don Giovanni and its overture and first two numbers, for example, seems well motivated.) Nevertheless, such observations scarcely jus- tify arash conclusion that any of these operas is ‘meaningfully “in’’ a single key. Nor should we hastily begin to equate otherwise dramatically and temporally unrelated numbers merely be- cause they are in the same or related keys. Fi- ‘garo begins and ends in D, and this surely affects ur sense of its coherence. But what are we to make of the fact that both “contiguous” sec- see the Mozart Jahrbuch, 1973~74, pp.82~97, 130-44, SW. A. Mozart: Don Giovanna |Cambndge, 198i) tions—the duettino no. | and the “forgiveness” section of the act IV finale—are in G? Suppose a “symmetrical tonal plan” were thereby im- plied; what could be its dramatic significance? Not even Levarie risks an answer. We remain obligated, in short, to conduct our searches for tonal coherence as skeptically as we know how, and to accept from the beginning and without bias the possibility that we may not find it. (One type of section in Mozart's operas, how- ever, mediates between individual numbers (which are undeniably coherent) and whole op- eras (whose coherence is highly problematical|: his finales. (The same point applies to complex, multi-sectional ensembles such as the act I in- ‘troduction and the act Il sextet in Giovanni or the sextet no. 13 in act I of Cosi.) A finale usu- ally begins and ends in the same key; although the action is complex, it often constitutes a sin- gle dramatic and psychological span; although the tonal motion is often wide-ranging, the sev- ‘eral keys are at least directly juxtaposed, if not indeed linked by transitions. There was even a coherent contemporary “theory” of the finale, as Da Ponte’s often-quoted description exem- plifies. And Mozart's finales have been much studied.“ Nevertheless, there have been almost no attempts to analyze them in detail. What we have are chiefly abstract charts of tonal succes- sions, which bear no relation to the typical dra- ‘matic progression toward a crisis of complexity, and discussions of the series of contrasting and gradually intensifying sections (the so-called "chain-finale” interpretation).*° The first large-scale discussion of finales, in fact, is John Platoff’s very recent study of Mo- zart and other Viennese composers in the 1780s. His chief hypothesis is that they are constructed in alternating passages of “action” and “expression,” usually combined into See Lorenz, “Das Finale in Mozarts Meisteroper,”" Die ‘Musik 19 (1926~27), 621~32; Hans Engel, "Die Finali der ‘Mozartschen Oper," Mozart Jahrbuch, 1954, pp. 113-34, Allanbrook, passim. A historical survey can be found in Hearts, "The Creation ofthe Bufo Finale in Italian Oper,” Proceedings ofthe Royal Music Association 104(1977~78), or-78 Asin Levatie, pp. 108-09 (quoting Lorenz}, 21921 eMusic and Drama in the Opera Bufla Finale: Mozart and hhis Contemporaries, 1781-1790 |Ph.D. diss, University of Pennsylvania, 1984). Other relevant, but less detalled stud iesare found in Abert, Allanbrook, and Henze-Dobring it VIEWPOINTa CENTURY MUSIC “action-expression cycles.” (To the extent this is true, such juxtapositions suggest points of contact with Mozart's large-scale, multi-tempo arias, and in turn with the even more complex arias and scenes of nineteenth-century operas.] The jury is still out; but in any case Platoff’s technical analyses are insufficiently detailed, and too casually related to the other domains of the musical drama, to satisfy the criteria I am arguing for here..” A fortiori, any discussion of “unity” is premature. vil To return to our starting-point: it remains more than puzzling that nobody has seriously studied the issue of coherence in Mozart's op: ‘eras. Whatever prejudice has inhibited us, it can scarcely have been Germanic monism’" or any privileged status of the Classical period! The in- strumental music of that period is nota relevant “opposite” to Wagner ot Verdi, and to complain about analytical traditions based on that music makes no more sense than if were to complain that opera-lovers ignore Haydn's string quartets because they lack the emotional intensity of the quartet in Rigoletto. What we all ought to study is Mozart’s operas. This line of thought implies that we need to find our way back to a level of music-historical generality that in part transcends differences like “Classical” and “Romantic,” Italian and German, even vocal and instrumental music, a level best captured, perhaps, in the old-fash- ioned notion of a “common practice." It implies that nineteenth-century operatic scholars must acknowledge the legitimacy of coherence as an ideal. But it implies equally that Classical scholars must analyze Haydn's quartets, Mo- zart’s concertos, Beethoven's symphonies as things that grow, as dynamic processes, as the- torical statements—all those aspects of tempo- ral and dramatic musical experience that we love (and hope to account for) in nineteenth- century operas. It implies accepting that musi- cal form may be multivalent and noncongruent; openness to such modes of understanding as ambiguity and irony; willingness to include so- Paul J. Horsley, Dittersdorf and the Finale in the Late Lighteenth-Century German Comic Opera (PhD. diss, Comell University, 1987), essentially follows Plato's model 192 cial and compositional traditions as an integral component of the meaning of any composition. ‘And it implies that (where appropriate] we must interpret—that we must accept the broadly based assumptions, in the Classical period, that many works had implicit (or even explicit) dra- matic or philosophical meanings, and that many composers and audiences had definite in- tentions and expectations regarding musical works—that we must incorporate them into our own efforts toward understanding. Such concerns seem in fact to be emerging increas- ingly in my own work and that of some of my colleagues; but they have never been absent from the best analysis. It would be witless to document this in detail; but, since the Schenkerian method is still a red flag in many quarters, I will cite characteristic examples from three of its most notable practitioners."* This program acknowledges the more reason- able aspects of Kerman’s recent pleas for a broadening of musical inquiry, and of the in- eluctably critical and historical nature of all analysis.” (But it follows from his own argu- ment that, if one cannot analyze without also judging and interpreting, neither can one judge or interpret without having analyzed—even if only intuitively. Hence we will be better off do- ing our analyses rigorously and in good faith.) From this perspective, a denial of the rele- vance of Beethoven or Schenker to the analysis ‘of Verdi or Wagner is not only unnecessary, but positively harmful. Obviously, I do not mean that we should indiscriminately compare ap- ples and oranges. To attain maturity and auton- ‘omy, operatic analysis will have to develop its ‘own [partly new] explanatory models, idiomatic to the genre. But (and this is only a superficial Oswald Jonas, "The Relation of Word and Tone,” in Into duction to the Theory of Heinrich Schenker, wf. John Rothgeb [New York, 1982), pp. 14961; Emst Oster, “The Dramatic Character of the Egmont Overture,” Musicology 2(1949), 269-85 pt. in Aspects of Schenkerian Theory, ed David Beach (New Haven and London, 1983}, pp. 209-22, (Carl Schachter, “Motive and Text in Four Schubert Songs,” sbid, pp. 61-76. Most prominently in “How We Got into Analysis, and How to Get Out,” Critical Inguiry 71980), 311-31, pt in cacentials as "The State of Academic Music Criticism,” in ‘On Chicizing Music, ed. Kingsley Price (Baltimare and Tondon, 1981), pp. 38~S4, The same points reeur (in difer- tent contexts) in his recent Contemplating. Music [Cam bridge, Mass, 1985) ch. 3 et passim.paradox) these will be fully effective only when they have become sufficiently powerful and, at least implicitly, sufficiently general to induce people to apply them to other repertories. Caro- lyn Abbate’s recent studies of narrative in ‘Wagner, for example—including Eric’s dream in The Flying Dutchman, Tannhiuser’s grisly tale of his pilgrimage to Rome, and Wotan’s monologue in Die Walktire—would seem to point in this direction.° For of all musical genres, opera is ideally suited to teach us about thetoric—a concept of fundamental impor- tance for any temporal art, which, except for Ratner and a few others associated with him [in- cluding Allanbrook), has been conspicuous by its absence in postwar writing about late eigh- teenth-century instrumental music. Such an initiative might also benefit from re- cent trends in literary criticism, whose rele- vance for earlier music (when combined with close analysis!] have recently been demon- strated by, for example, Leo Treitler, Don M. ‘othe latter two will appear in “Eric's Dream and Tana hduser’s Narrative" in Reading Opera. The Wotan study is ‘unpublished. Randel, and Christopher Reynolds,*! but which have had little influence on eighteenth- or even nineteenth-century studies. Even “deconstruc- tion,” which, owing to its focus on language, might be thought to be of limited direct applica- bility, has been coincidentally anticipated in Jonathan D. Kramer's remarkable analysis of the opening movement of Beethoven's String Quartet in F, op. 135, based on imaginary tem- poral recombinations of its main ideas. In short, I eagerly await the day when I can learn about Haydn's string quartets by reading Po- ‘wers's analysis of Otello—and he about Rigo- letto by analyzing Haydn’s string quartets. Or, if this seems too farfetched, we can surely look forward to learning from each other about the operas of the three great composers mentioned in my title. It is only incumbent on me now to amend it: to understand Verdi and Wagner we must understand Mozart— 5 and viceversa © sion ofthe Relationship, the History of Music, vol. 1, Music and Language (New ‘York, 1983], pp. 1-23; Randel, “Dufay the Reader,” ibid, pp. 38-78, Reynolds, "Musical Evidence of Compositional Planning in the Renaissance: Josquin's Plus nuls repre, Journal of the American Musicological Society 40 (1987), 53-81. “Kramer, "Multiple and Lincar Time in Beethoven's opus 135," Perspectives of New Music 11/1973), 122-4. 193 VIEWPOINT