1750-1800: America declares independence, Jane Austen reboots the rom-com, Napoleon tries to conquer the world, and opera takes on a more refined tone.
In this resource, you will:
As opera segues into what’s called the Classical era*, it lands us squarely in history’s Age of Enlightenment—a time when Europeans took a long, hard look at themselves and began to rethink humankind’s most pressing questions, like “How does nature even work?”, “Is there such a thing as fate?”, and “Can someone really be born ‘better’ than someone else?”.
(The answer to that last one is “no,” by the way.)
*Friendly reminder: Try not to confuse Classical with “classical” music. Listeners use “classical” to refer to the body of Western music typically performed in concert halls and opera houses. However, they use Classical to talk about Western music specifically written from around 1750 to 1800.
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Broadly speaking, these kinds of questions inspired Westerners to seek out art, religion, and philosophy that was grounded in logic, reason, and verifiable truths. The “extra” pomp and flex of the Baroque era (hey, if anyone was guilty of flexing it was those Baroque folks) no longer held a permanent place in the public’s heart. Instead, audiences craved tasteful works that were beautiful, logical, and easy to consume, much like the smooth, well-balanced architecture produced in the original “Classic” eras of Ancient Greece and Rome, where function always seemed to follow form.
Classical-era artists looked to Ancient Greek and Roman traditions of “beauty in moderation” to create music and architectural structures that emphasized geometric proportion, as in clean, pleasing shapes. For example: This crisp, circular design was submitted for an office of the Bank of England in 1799.
Actually, if you asked a musicologist to sum up music’s Classical era in just one word, there’s a good chance the answer would be “form.” So much of what we think of as stereotypically Classical involves music with proportional features—symmetrical rhythms, satisfying sections or “movements,” consonant harmonies that obviously agree with each another, etc.—designed to anchor the listener in a rational world of reason and balance.
So, while we’ve already warned you that trying to distill a musical era into a single set of rules can be dangerously reductive, it’s not a bad idea to think of Classical opera as more refined and level-headed than its Baroque cousin… at least overall.
The Classical era’s enduring legacy was the symphony, a four-movement genre founded on a sensible structure listeners could depend on. Symphonic musical phrases were frequently delivered in comfortable, bite-sized chunks; and, harmonies usually unfolded in a predictable pattern that ended almost exactly where it began.
Truth be told, opera experienced a makeover around the 1750s, and it came out wiser and more mature on the other side. Again, this doesn’t mean opera went from wild and elaborate to mild and enlightened overnight. Nor does it mean Baroque operas lacked moments of tranquil simplicity or that Classical operas couldn’t achieve levels of heightened or even violent emotion. It just means that, as Western society started reevaluating its priorities and ascribing newer, deeper significance to big-picture concepts—like science, justice, class distinction, and global community—musical tastes shifted. And opera followed suit.
As such, Classical opera listeners gravitated more toward elegant, cohesive, easily digestible pieces that addressed loud and soft, light and dark, and joy and sorrow in equal measure. Trouble is, the two major operatic composers of the period disagreed on exactly how to do this.
Which brings us to an important question that runs throughout all of opera history…
Full disclosure: There’s no right or wrong answer here. In fact, this question would go on to plague opera composers for hundreds of years, and no one has ever been able to offer a real, lasting solution… even today.
But in the mid-18th century, a German-born musician named Christoph Willibald Guck (1714-1787) believed he just might have cracked the code.
To Gluck’s mind, popular Baroque operas of the Italian (then known as opera seria) and French (tragédie lyrique) persuasion had gone off the rails by 1760 or so. He felt that, thanks to fanciful additions like the da capo aria and the randomly inserted ballet, opera had abandoned its true purpose: to tell a dramatic story. In response, Gluck set about to reform things in his adopted hometown of Vienna, where he worked to bring opera back to its more theatrical roots. And from this point forward, Gluck’s operas followed the fundemental rule of story first, music second.
Anything that didn’t help move the narrative along was fair game for the cutting-room floor. An aria that placed the action on hold just so a famous soprano could show off her high Cs? Nope. Delete. Recitative that was more about the composer’s technical prowess than the actual poetry being recited? Heck no. Get rid of it.
Christoph Willibald Gluck hands Queen Marie Antoinette the score of an opera, by Edouard Jean Conrad Hamman.
Fittingly, one of Gluck’s first experiments in this “music-follows-story” format was Orfeo ed Euridice (Orpheus and Eurydice, 1762), a callback to Peri’s Euridice and Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo, both of which had revolutionized the music world a few generations back. Gluck’s version of the Orpheus myth included musical numbers that sprung up organically from the drama, with very little time wasted on extraneous tunes or unnecessary procrastination. (For real: Gluck would’ve probably found Hamlet too boring to set to music. That guy doesn’t do anything until the very end.)
Gluck wasn’t into hitting the pause button on dramatic action, but he also wasn’t completely heartless. In this gut-wrenching moment from Orfeo ed Euridice, Orfeo reflects briefly on the loss of his wife, asking “What will I do without my Euridice?” (This male character is sung by a woman here, as the role was written for a castrato male singer whose voice would have been comparable to the female mezzo-soprano sound that’s more common today.) Though there’s not much happening on the stage, Gluck still finds ways to push the story along: the underlying accompaniment, for example, keeps pulsing relentlessly despite the stillness of the scene, and Orfeo even interrupts his own lament to see if Euridice has somehow awakened from death.
Even better, Gluck’s studies had taken him across much of Europe, which meant that from Orfeo on he was able to pick and choose from the best opera had to offer in order to craft something newer, more graceful, and yet still undeniably human—much like Classicism itself.
Gluck made his mark (and we thank him for his service), but he was doomed to live in the shadow of the guy who was next in line…
You know the name. And with good reason. His work was, is, and will always be synonymous with both Classical (capital C) and classical (lowercase c) music around the globe. Plus, he managed to compose a huge catalog of legendary musical hits in just 35 criminally short years of life (1756-1791).
Mozart, painted by Josef Büche (1848-1917)
Once Mozart tried his hand at opera, the art form would never be same.
Mozart’s operatic approach differed from Gluck’s in that Wolfgang felt words should support the music first and foremost. Plot was great, sure, but long-winded explanations should never obscure what the music was trying to convey. The result of this Mozartian philosophy was almost pure magic. Mozart’s operas, particularly his later ones, somehow managed to tell a completely relatable story while simultaneously using music to offer parallel commentary on both what was happening on stage and the characters’ unspoken emotions and underlying motivations.
It’s no surprise, then, that Mozart’s operatic works refused to be categorized as either serious (opera seria) or comedic (by this time known as opera buffa). His three masterful collaborations with librettist Lorenzo da Ponte (1749-1838)—Le Nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni, and Così Fan Tutte—each included moments of madcap humor alongside scenes of devastating heartbreak, meaning they simply would not fit into any specific mold. (Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte were even given their own special designation: dramma giocoso or “playful drama.”)
Consequently, Mozart and da Ponte went down in history as one of songwriting’s greatest-ever duos, right up there with Rodgers and Hammerstein or Lennon and McCartney. These operatic innovators explored the emotional depths of their characters while also confronting the messiness of the human condition (for real, Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero” sounds a lot like it could’ve been written for Don Giovanni himself). And all this helped inspire yet another musical movement, one that was fueled by the power of feeling.
Speaking of feelings: Are you feeling enlightened yet? Good. Because from here on out, things will definitely get pretty dark.
Don Giovanni and his feelings (Andrei Kymach). Photo by Bill Cooper.
Listen: Mozart: Through the Prism of Opera
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
1786, WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
Washington National Opera’s Joshua Hopkins (Count Almaviva) and Lisette Oropesa (Susanna). Photo by Scott Suchman.
Mozart and da Ponte tackle love, loss, and the consequences of upper-class male privilege in this operatic rendition of a bittersweet comedy by French playwright Beaumarchais.
The plot follows Figaro and his fiancée, Susanna, as they navigate their way through a bumpy wedding day filled with lecherous employers, jealous spouses, mistaken identities, and a lovestruck teen who jumps out of a window.
The energetic overture pops up constantly in films and TV, and the beautifully breezy duet “Sull’aria” kicks off one of Hollywood’s most memorable scenes in the 1994 movie The Shawshank Redemption.
A young boy—played by a woman with a deeper-sounding voice to reflect how the character is not yet a “man”—ponders the nature of true love in front of his unattainable crush.
Listen: The Marriage of Figaro
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Mozart’s comic romp.
1787, WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
Aida Garifullina as Zerlina and Luca Pisaronias as Don Giovanni at the Metropolitan Opera. Sara Krulwich/The New York Times.
For their second collaboration, Mozart and da Ponte brought the infamous Don Juan to the stage to satisfy some eager audiences in Prague, and the Western world has been reckoning with “the Don” ever since (see George Bernard Shaw’s Man and Superman for just one of many examples).
An OG “anti-hero,” Mozart’s Don Giovanni is the subject of constant debate: an abusive criminal who can be portrayed as either 100% evil or at least 50% tragically misunderstood. But if moral ambiguity isn’t your thing, there’s lots of class and gender politics and a ghostly statue to keep you busy. (Fun fact: Mozart was so meta he even embedded a callback to one of his Figaro tunes in Don Giovanni’s final act.)
The overture in D minor—a key sometimes associated with death—is often used to conjure up a sense of impending doom. (No joke: We once saw a commercial for cold medicine that played Mozart’s chilling opening chords in the background while someone blew their nose. Also, the supernaturally terrifying final scene makes a cameo in the second Sherlock Holmes movie from director Guy Ritchie.)
Don Giovanni’s manservant reads from the Don’s list of past “loves.”
Listen: Don Giovanni
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Mozart’s cautionary tale.
1789, WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
Two dudes make a bet that their ladies (who happen to be sisters) will never, ever be unfaithful to them. They decide to put that bet to the test by dressing up as out-of-towners and seducing each other’s girl. What could possibly go wrong? Well… lots, apparently. (*feigns shock*)
Mozart and da Ponte’s final work examines the dangers of taking your partner for granted and offers a head-spinning reinterpretation of the classic “battle of the sexes” trope. If you don’t leave the opera house feeling ambivalent and/or just plain confused, then the cast and crew probably haven’t done their job.
Così Fan Tutte might not be sampled as often as its Mozart/da Ponte siblings, but it’s highly likely you’ve heard the rippling accompaniment to its famous trio, “Soave sia il vento” (“Sweet be the breeze”), whenever film or TV producers want to evoke an atmosphere of meditation and calm.
Steadfast sister Fiordiligi explains how she’ll stay solid as a rock against the advances of a handsome new suitor who’s mysteriously arrived on the same day her boyfriend has left town.
Listen: Così Fan Tutte
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Mozart’s romantic comedy.
1791, WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
The Magic Flute Portland Opera. Photo: Cory Weaver.
Warning: Try to decode this half-spoken/half-sung Singspiel fable too hard and you might end up with some sort of musical brain freeze. (Look, we never said operas would always make sense.) Best we can tell, a prince tries to rescue a princess who may or may not need rescuing; the forces of good and evil duke it out for the souls of a younger generation; and a magical flute helps tame a few wild animals.
Oh, and there’s a bird catcher, too.
In all seriousness, the real magic of this work is Mozart’s music. Operagoers who lose the plot can always count on Mozart’s gorgeous melodies—a blend of shimmering light and melancholic dark, in keeping with the opera’s themes of duality–—to make up for the price of admission.
And, for those interested in secret societies: It’s generally accepted that Mozart wrote Die Zauberflöte in celebration of his Masonic brotherhood, and groups of three (a symbolic number for the Masons) can be spotted in the music, rhythms, and storyline.
For some unknown reason, car commercials of the 2020s love to use Die Zauberflöte in their soundtracks. Not sure why the Queen of the Night’s aria of vengeance and murder would make people want to buy a luxury automobile, but…there you go.
Local bird catcher Papageno introduces himself to no one in particular.
Listen: The Magic Flute
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Mozart’s fantasy adventure.
We’re cheating a bit here, as neither Austria nor Germany really existed during this period. Still, German-speaking states played a large role in the development of Classical opera, in part because they hosted many of the era’s most famous premieres in the central city of Vienna.
Both Gluck and Mozart lived and worked in this musical metropolis, and Viennese stages were among the first to witness works like Orfeo ed Euridice, Le Nozze di Figaro, and Così Fan Tutte in person.
And yes, you read those titles right: 18th-century Vienna was a multicultural city that housed composers from a variety of backgrounds and nationalities.
Operas were frequently performed in Italian (a nod to opera’s birthplace), but there was always room for French opéra comique and German Singspiel as well. In fact, Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) did for Singspiel what his Italian operas did for both opera seria and opera buffa; it elevated the genre into something instantly memorable, effortlessly tuneful, and indisputably timeless.
Excerpt from Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail.
By the mid-18th century, Italian opera was so popular that there was no way of confining it to the Italian territories (the nation of “Italy” wouldn’t be formed until the mid-19th century). So, while some of Classical opera’s celebrated composers, librettists, and big-time producers were ethnically Italian, they didn’t always work on Italian shores.
Italian Classicists with serious reach included composer and conductor Antonio Salieri (1750-1825, who did not kill Mozart, no matter what you might’ve heard), poet Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782), and Mozart’s frequent collaborator Lorenzo da Ponte. And, because the Classical era was a bit of a melting pot, there were also non-Italian composers who wrote glorious operas in the Italian tradition (such as Mozart and Gluck).
There were likewise Italian-born musicians who settled outside of Italy and made a name for themselves in other languages (like Luigi Cherubini, 1760-1842, who was known for composing operas in French).
TL;DR: If you wanted to listen to Italian-style opera in Classical-era Europe, you wouldn’t have to go very far.
Duet from Salieri’s Tarare.
Lucky for us listeners, French opera was alive and well during the Classical era. Among the trendier performances in France were opéra comiques (lighter operatic fare that featured spoken dialogue)—tragédie lyrique’s younger, funnier relative. But, thanks to some strong words from philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, certain operagoers began clamoring for more matter and less art; that is, they demanded that opera start cutting to the chase by cutting out flashy displays of musical skill.
Lucky for those listeners, Christoph Willibald Gluck was happy to oblige.
Gluck’s Iphigénie en Aulide (Iphigenia in Aulis) and Iphigénie en Tauride (Iphigenia in Tauris…Iphigenia gets around, doesn’t she?) debuted in Paris and went on to herald a new age for French opera and for opera in general.
Excerpt from Iphigénie en Aulide by Gluck from October 2022 at the Théâtre des Champs Elysées.
Composer
Composer
The Circus in Bath, England
1753: Independence Hall in Philadelphia, PA (USA)
1762: The Trevi Fountain, designed by Nicola Salvi and completed by Giuseppe Pannini (Italy)
1764: Royal Palace of Madrid, designed by Jean Bautista Sachetti (Spain)
1764: The Circus in Bath, designed by John Wood (England)
1790: The Panthéon, designed by Jacques-Germain Soufflot and Jean-Baptiste Rondelet (France)
1778: La Scala Opera House, designed by Giuseppe Piermarini (Italy)
1791: Brandenburg Gate, designed by Carl Gotthard Langhans (Germany)
1796: Somerset House in London, designed by William Chambers (England)
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, by Thomas Gainsborough
1750: Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, painted by Thomas Gainsborough (England)
1767: Les hasards heureux de l'escarpolette (The Swing), painted by Jean-Honoré Fragonard (France)
1770: The Blue Boy, painted by Thomas Gainsborough (England)
1778: Watson and the Shark, painted by John Singleton Copley (USA)
1781: The Nightmare, painted by Henry Fuseli (Switzerland)
1783: Marie Antoinette with a Rose, painted by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun (France)
1793: Three Beauties of the Present Day, woodblock print by Utamaro (Japan)
1793: The Death of Marat, painted by Jacques-Louis David (France)
1796: Lansdowne, portrait of George Washington, painted by Gilbert Stuart (USA)
Franz Joseph Haydn
1764: Symphony No.1 in E-flat major, K.16, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Austria)
1787: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Austria)
1788: Symphony No. 41 in C major, K.551, “Jupiter”, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Austria)
1791: Symphony No. 94 in G major, “The Surprise”, composed by Joseph Haydn (Germany)
1791: Requiem in D minor, K. 626, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Austria)
1796: Trumpet Concerto in E-flat major, composed by Joseph Haydn (Germany)
1798: Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13 “Pathetique”, composed by Ludwig van Beethoven (Germany)
1799: The Creation Oratorio, composed by Joseph Haydn (Germany)
The Wayward Daughter by Pierre-Antoine Baudouin
1754: Les Fêtes Chinoises, ballet choreographed by Jean-Georges Noverre (France)
1760: Jean-Georges Noverre publishes Lettres sur la Danse et les Ballets (France)
1761: Don Juan, ballet with music by Christoph Willibald Gluck (Austria)
1776: The Bolshoi Ballet is established (Russia)
1778: Les petits riens (The Little Nothings), ballet choreographed by Jean-Georges Noverre, with music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (France)
1787: Pierre Gardel becomes ballet master of the Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris (France)
1789: La fille mal gardée (The Wayward Daughter), ballet choreographed by Jean Dauberval (France)
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
1750: Main curtains start to be used between acts and during intermissions (England)
1752: The first Shakespeare play is produced in America, The Merchant of Venice (USA)
1767: The first noncommercial public theatre, the Hamburg National Theatre, is established (Germany)
1769: Hamburg Dramaturgy, written by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (Germany)
1773: Götz von Berlichingen, written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (Germany)
1774: Theatre is banned in America for 15 years (USA)
1777: Sturm und Drang, written by Friedrich Maximilian Klinger (Germany)
1781: The Robbers, written by Friedrich Schiller (Germany)
1787: Panoramic backdrops are introduced to theatre by Robert Barker (Ireland)
1789: The Stranger, written by August von Kotzebue (Germany)
1790: Menschenhass und Reue (Misanthropy and Repentance), written by August von Kotzebue (Germany)
1797: Napoleon bans commedia dell'arte in Italy for criticizing French imperialism (Italy)
Voltaire
1759: Candide, written by Voltaire (France)
1759: The Life and Times of Tristam Shandy, Gentleman, written by Laurence Sterne (Ireland)
1785: 120 Days of Sodom, written by Marquis de Sade (France)
1789: The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, written by Edward Gibbon (England)
1790: The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, written by William Blake (England)
1798: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (England)
Benjamin Franklin
1751: Benjamin Franklin theorizes lightning to be electrical (USA)
1776: Adam Smith publishes The Wealth of Nations (Scotland)
1778: Antoine Lavoisier discovers oxygen (France)
1781: William Herschel identifies Uranus as the 7th planet (Germany)
1794: The Age of Reason published by Thomas Paine (USA)
1796: Hanaoka Seishū develops general anesthesia (Japan)
1796: Georges Cuvier establishes extinction as a fact (France)
Catherine the Great
1754–1763: The French and Indian War (North America)
1759: King Charles III coronated (Spain)
1762: Catherine the Great becomes Queen (Russia)
1765: The Stamp Act is introduced into the American colonies by the British Parliament (USA)
1770: James Cook claims the East Coast of Australia (New South Wales) for Great Britain (UK)
1770: The Boston Massacre (USA)
1773: The Boston Tea Party (USA)
1775–1783: American Revolutionary War (USA)
1776: Common Sense published by Thomas Paine (USA)
1779: Captain James Cook is killed by indigenous Hawaiians (UK)
1781: The city of Los Angeles is founded by Spanish settlers (USA)
1787: The United States Constitution is submitted to the states for ratification (USA)
1789: George Washington elected President (USA)
1789-1799: The French Revolution (France)
1791: The United States Bill of Rights is ratified (USA)
1793: King Louis XVI executed (France)
1796: Qing Empire becomes the largest world economy (China)
1799: The Sikh Empire rules Punjab region of India (India)
1799: Dutch East India Company is dissolved (the Netherlands)
Because Mozart is Mozart and there have been very few times in history—if any—that his music wasn’t popular somewhere in the world, there’s been no shortage of interest in Classical opera performances and recordings over the last few centuries (obviously there were no recordings in the 18th or early 19th centuries, but you get what we mean.).
Unfortunately for his contemporaries, including Gluck and Salieri, Mozart is still very much the uncontested Classical king of today’s opera scene. You might find artists who specialize in the works of other Classical opera composers, but the bulk of what’s out there is mostly Mozart.
Classical features you’re still likely to hear or see today:
Age of Enlightenment – a turning point in European culture and thought that focused on reason, equality, science, and the human experience.
Dramma Giocoso/Opera Semiseria (“playful drama” or “semi-serious opera” in Italian) – a type of Classical opera associated with Mozart, in which the story and feel are neither totally tragic nor totally comedic.
Form – the in-built structure of a piece of music, which includes traditional guidelines for things like harmonic progression as well as when, where, and how to introduce new melodies or themes.
Movement – an isolated portion of a larger piece of music, often performed after a brief pause or intermission. Different movements will usually explore different rhythms and musical styles, but all movements within the same piece are typically related in some way (harmonically, thematically, narratively, etc.).
Opera Buffa (“funny opera” in Italian) – an opera dealing with humorous subject matter, with roots in early-18th century Naples.
Opéra Comique (“comic opera” in French) – a style of French opera born in the 18th century. Originally a collection of familiar tunes retrofitted to a funny story, opéra comiques were often composed from scratch by the time the Classical period arrived, frequently with spoken dialogue between scenes.
Opera Seria/Tragédie Lyrique (“serious opera” in Italian or “lyric tragedy” in French) – Italian and French versions (respectively) of an opera based on a serious or tragic subject; more of a Baroque categorization.
Singspiel (“sing-play” in German) – an early German opera with spoken dialogue as opposed to sung-through recitative, the most famous of which is probably Mozart's Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute).
Writer
Eleni Hagen
Producer
Kenny Neal for
Kennedy Center Education
Digital Learning
Updated
April 19, 2023
A soprano is a soprano because they can sing high and a bass is a bass because they sing low, right? Not really...
A beginner’s guide to some of opera’s most challenging female roles and a unique look at how opera does girl power.
A quick overview of Gluck’s 1779 opera based on the stories of King Agamemnon’s family following the Trojan War.
A quick overview of Mozart’s 1786 comic opera.
A quick overview of Mozart’s 1787 opera buffa about an arrogant nobleman who meets his match.
A quick overview of Mozart’s 1789 tale of wit, deception, and seduction.
A quick overview of Mozart’s 1791 magical comic opera.
A quick overview of Mozart’s 1791 opera seria set in the Roman Empire.
Eric Friedman
Director, Digital Learning
Kenny Neal
Manager, Digital Education Resources
Tiffany A. Bryant
Manager, Operations and Audience Engagement
JoDee Scissors
Content Specialist, Digital Learning
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