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Opera's Early Romantic Era: 1800-1865
“We’re all mad here…”

Opera’s Early Romantic Era

“We’re all mad here…”

1800-1865: The railway transforms travel, Gettysburg gets fully addressed, J.M.W. Turner flirts with abstract art, and Europe’s identity crisis spawns massive musical innovation.

Journey through the first half of opera’s third historic “phase”: the Romantic era. Learn about the cultural, economic, and political upheaval that inspired opera’s emotional U-turn and get to know some familiar works in the canon.

Recommended for Grades 6-12

In this resource, you will:

  • Discover some of the more recognizable features of Romantic art.
  • Learn about the revolutionary spirit that swept across Europe, transforming public tastes.
  • Make a pilgrimage to Paris, opera’s headquarters of the day.
  • Get to know a new Italian vocal style that made a lasting impression.
Understanding Opera • 
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Is It Getting Darker in Here or Are We Just Crazy?

Well, looks like we’ve made it to the Romantic* era, so the answer is probably: Both.

Almost as soon as it transformed itself into a “Classic”-ally enlightened art form, opera did an about-face, rebranding itself yet again in the name of a new, exciting trend that was powered by the most dangerous and volatile force of all: the human heart.

Consider this your final warning…

Opera is about to get real deep into its feelings. Hold tight and try not to descend into madness.

*Yet another friendly reminder: Sorry to do this to you, but we’ve run into that capital vs. lowercase problem again. When talking about Western art and music, “Romantic” (capital “R”) usually refers to the emotionally and psychologically turbulent works from Europe and America that characterized much of the 19th century. Try not to confuse this with “romantic” (lowercase “r”), which mostly applies to that couples-in-love thing that’s messed with our heads since the dawn of time.

Video

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Big Change, Bigger Feelings

During the Enlightenment era, thought ruled the day. If you could reason something out on paper, Enlightened folks argued you could probably trust it more than, say, a random hunch or an old wives’ tale. But—surprise!—if you ask people to examine everything down to its smallest detail, sooner or later they’re gonna start examining themselves in the same way. 

To be fair, though, human beings are pretty darn interesting, especially when it comes to our emotions. And, as the Enlightenment faded in the early 19th century, the inner workings of the human soul (that indescribable “why” behind what we do and the choices we make) became a preferred topic of poets, painters, novelists, and musicians of the Western world. 

Artists discovered a new inspirational beauty behind deeply personal sensations like love, loneliness, rage, and confusion. They increasingly favored the imperfect over the perfect. The wild over the controlled. The heart over the head. 

If Classicism ran on a collective commitment to common sense, Romanticism ran on a celebration of sensibility. (Come on, we had to.) 

In fact, Romanticism focused on the trials of the individual, brought on by external or internal forces such as a storm at sea or a storm inside the mind. German Romantics, for example, were drawn to an 18th-century aesthetic known as “Sturm und Drang” (roughly, “Storm and Stress” or “Storm and Impulse,” possibly the inspiration behind the German “Durmstrang” school in the Harry Potter books), and rough winds and rain became a favorite metaphor among painters and composers hoping to explore emotional unrest.

Exhibit A: This painting by German painter Caspar David Friedrich from around 1818, entitled “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog.” We don’t know what the figure in the painting is feeling exactly, but we’d be willing to bet it’s not pleasant.

Caspar_David_Friedrich_-_Wanderer_above_the_sea_of_fog.jpgCaspar David Friedrich’s “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog.”

Welcome to the Revolution

But it wasn’t just art that underwent a 180-degree change. This tonal shift was heavily reflected in the politics of the day, too. Events like the French and American revolutions helped realign political philosophy around the rights of the everyday citizen rather than the whims of a divine monarch. So, as “subjects” across Europe realized each person was capable of tremendous depth and complexity of feeling, they also began to believe that every individual should command their own destiny.

Suddenly, government attempts to limit personal freedoms didn’t go down so well. A rebellious streak started to run through much of Europe, perhaps reaching its height in 1848, when a mind-blowing number of democratic revolutions sprang up almost simultaneously in major cultural strongholds like France, Italy, and Germany.

And opera, as always, took note.

Romantic audiences were attracted to stories and sounds that SHOOK. THINGS. UP. Emotionally and politically. The heroes and heroines of Romantic operas were noble individuals with strong feelings, big dreams, and an innate sense of right and wrong. (Oh, and they also liked to tear down the status quo.) This meant operas had a lot more time to explore things like inner turmoil, psychological introspection, and violent outpourings of love and hate.

Essentially, it was opera as it had always been—just on a grander and much more vivid scale.

Isn’t That Just Grand?

As you’d expect, Romantic opera looked and sounded quite different depending on the composer and the country in question. Where Classical music prided itself on a uniformity of taste and style (to some extent at least), Romantic music began to mobilize along national borders, reveling in the unique flavors of each culture in much the same way as it celebrated human individuality.

In Paris, which reigned as the opera capital of the early 19th century, operas could be so explosive and bombastic they were given a new name: grand opéra (“large” or “grand opera”), meaning a large-scale work featuring high-stakes drama, enthusiastic displays of emotion, and thrilling feats of theatrical stagecraft (sets, and costumes, and fireworks, oh my!).

The Carnival scene from Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini (1838) is French grand opéra at its peak. From the bustling crowds to the revolving sets, astonishing circus acts, and larger-than-life puppetry, this 2015 production—directed by a Monty Python alum!—captures Romantic French opera in all its glory.

MeyerbeerCrociatoActIScene3(1824).jpgFrancesco Bagnara's stage set (1824) for Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Il crociato in Egitto (Act I, Scene 3).

But though grand opéra belonged to the French, early-Romantic opera itself was quite literally grand all over.

Outside France, opera was expanding in similar ways. Plots thickened. Orchestras grew. Roles got bigger and more demanding. Singers were expected to convey a wide range of human emotion using only their voices. Italian operas of this period called for near-supernatual levels of vocal flexibility as well as a rich and beautiful tone. These qualities became so crucial to early-Romantic Italian opera that they were given their own name: bel canto (“beautiful singing”).

Extreme Makeover… Aria Edition

One way in which composers allowed their Romantic characters to cover a wide spectrum of emotion was to give them an updated aria format: a two-part, cantabile-cabaletta aria that included one slow and steady section (called a cavatina or cantabile, great for moments of sadness, reflection, rapture, etc.) followed quickly by a fast-paced, galloping tune that either fleshed out the emotional themes of the first section or explored the character’s predicament from a different emotional angle (known as a cabaletta, perfect for moments of fury, excitement, or general psych-ups).

Occasionally, these arias would be punctuated by commentary from a nearby chorus of supporting characters who posed questions, offered advice, or simply helped to push the plot forward. (Think random interjections like “Wow, that’s so sad!” or “Hold on, someone’s coming!”)

And, more often than not, the cabaletta section provided singers a chance to showcase their vocal chops by leaping and diving from the tippy top to the very bottom of their vocal range and back again, usually with some added thrills, chills, and trills along the way—a singing technique known as coloratura.

Curiously (okay maybe not that curiously), these death-defying acts of coloratura lent themselves perfectly to another category of aria that emerged during the early Romantic era: the mad scene. We’re not kidding. Many operas of the period feature long, expansive arias where someone—usually a woman, which is frustrating—uses vocal gymnastics to report that she’s lost touch with reality.

Famous mad scenes of the early Romantic era include:

  • “Oh! S’io potessi dissipar le nubi… Col sorriso d’innocenza” from Il Pirata (The Pirate, 1827) by Vincenzo Bellini, during which a duchess, whose husband has died at the hands of her ex-boyfriend, experiences hallucinations brought on by sorrow and guilt.
  • “Al dolce guidami…Coppia iniqua” from Anna Bolena (Anne Boleyn, 1830) by Gaetano Donizetti, in which Anne Boleyn loses her sanity after being condemned to death by Henry VIII.
  • “Qui la voce… Vien, diletto” from I Puritani (The Puritans, 1835) by Vincenzo Bellini, in which a Puritan woman breaks down after being betrayed by her true love (or so she thinks).
  • “Ombre légère” from Dinorah (1859) by Giacomo Meyerbeer, in which a jilted and impoverished young woman chats with her own shadow after being deserted by her fiancé. (Sadly, this opera isn’t performed all that often today, though many recordings of this famous French melody have been laid down over the years.)
  • “Il dolce suono… Spargi d’amaro pianto” from Lucia di Lammermoor (Lucy of Lammermoor, 1835) by Gaetano Donizetti, where a young Scottish woman sinks into madness after stabbing her husband to death on their wedding night (it’s complicated...).

This stirring, bloody sequence is a prime example of both a Romantic mad scene and a cantabile aria. Driven to insanity by a controlling brother and a jealous lover, the title character of Lucia di Lammemoor relives moments from her past, imagines scenes from her would-be future, and prepares herself for death after killing the man she was forced to marry against her will. As her mental state deteriorates, her music becomes wilder and and more frenetic as her voice is stretched to its limits.

Important Operas of the Early Romantic Era

Fidelio

1805 and 1814, LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

fidelio-169.jpgSarasota Opera production of Fidelio. Photo by Rod Millington.

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What you should know...

Beethoven’s one and only opera is the absolute epitome of a subgenre known as the “rescue opera,” in which a main character embarks on a perilous adventure to save someone they love. Despite a rocky debut and a bunch of rewrites, Beethoven’s variation on this rescue trope continues to stand out, thanks largely to the loyal conviction displayed by its heroine, Leonore—not to mention the sheer beauty and vibrant urgency of Beethoven’s heroic score. 

As the story unfolds, Leonore, disguised as a young man named “Fidelio” (roughly, “Faithful One”), risks life and limb to rescue her husband, Florestan, who’s been wrongfully imprisoned by a corrupt governor.  No doubt the underlying theme of true love fighting back against oppression struck a major chord with the restless revolutionary audiences of the Romantic era.

Where you’ve heard it: It’s likely you’ve encountered at least one of the four—yes, four—separate versions of the Fidelio overture, the most famous of which is perhaps the one that often appears in symphony halls across the globe as “Leonore No. 3,” Op. 72b.

“Mir ist so wunderbar” (Forsythe, Davidsen, Zeppenfeld, Tritschler; The Royal Opera)


Listen: Fidelio
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Beethoven’s adventure drama.


Il Barbiere di Siviglia
(The Barber of Seville)

1816, GIOACHINO ROSSINI

the-barber-of-seville-169.jpgFlorentine Opera performs Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Traveling Lemur Productions.

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What you should know...

The Marriage of Figaro: The prequel!

Drawing from the same theatrical trilogy as Mozart, Rossini gives audiences a peek at the early life of Figaro before he walked down the aisle. (That’s why this opera, and not Mozart’s, is the one with the famous “Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!” aria, during which our hero, a barber and general jack-of-all-trades, laments having to be on call for his clients 24/7.)

Hands down one of opera’s favorite comedies—and annoyingly written in just two weeks—Il Barbiere di Siviglia features some instantly recognizable tunes (thank you, Bugs Bunny!) and demands an enormous amount of vocal dexterity from any singer brave enough to tackle its arias or ensembles. And there’s a sass-master of a heroine who brilliantly schemes her way out of an old man’s clutches. So…what’s not to like?

Where you’ve heard it: Bugs Bunny’s “Rabbit of Seville” and the Disney short “Willie the Operatic Whale” both feature extended clips from the opera, as do countless other scenes from film and television, especially when directors are hoping to evoke a sense of comedic chaos (but, like, in a classy way).

Act I aria “Largo al factotum” from Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia, Peter Mattei (Figaro).


Listen: The Barber of Seville
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Rossini’s comedy.


Norma

1831, VINCENZO BELLINI

norma-169.jpgNorma at Sarasota Opera. Photo by Rod Millington.

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What you should know...

One of only 10 operas from Vincenzo Bellini (a bel canto master who died just before his 34th birthday), the title character of Norma represents a Mount Everest for many sopranos: an incomparable diva role that demands serious dramatic skills as well as a voice of graceful pliability, effortless range, and ferocious intensity.

Norma’s opening aria, “Casta diva” (“Chaste goddess”), is a staggering example of the Italian “beautiful singing” style, complete with a simple, smooth-as-glass melody featuring soaring high notes that speak to the character’s commanding presence and her commitment to her faith (she’s a Druid priestess, after all). Her story, which revolves around a tragic love triangle set against the backdrop of an ancient war, exposes everything she holds dear as a woman torn between love and duty whose emotions threaten to destroy her. In other words: the ideal Romantic heroine.

Where you’ve heard it: “Casta diva” appears on film, TV, and commercial soundtracks, particularly because its Zen-like qualities make it really good at creating an atmosphere of blissful calm. It also gets a wickedly ironic shoutout in a season 3 episode of American Horror Story.

(And then there’s  that pokes fun at the Druids’ call to arms from Act II. Too funny not to share.)

The priestess Norma leads her people in a prayer for peace. Sonya Yoncheva sings the title role in Bellini’s masterpiece.


Listen: Norma
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Bellini’s tragic love story.


Lucia di Lammermoor
(Lucy of Lammermoor)

1835, GAETANO DONIZETTI

lucia-di-lammermoor-169.jpgNadine Sierra in Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor. The Metroplitain Opera.

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What you should know...

Donizetti delivers the mother of all mad scenes in this beloved adaptation of a Scottish tale written by Sir Walter Scott. If you’ve ever seen a terrifying painting of a bloodied bride holding up a sword and staring blankly off into the distance, odds are it’s of Donizetti’s ultra-tragic heroine, Lucia: the embodiment of Romantic love gone wrong.

Bel canto to a fault, Lucia di Lammermoor uses vocal acrobatics, a variety of orchestral colors, and tuneful declarations of romance and revenge to tell the story of a young woman caught in the middle of a vicious 17th century family feud. Her struggle plunges her into madness and ultimately drives her toward murder, giving operagoers a violently electrifying yet achingly beautiful glimpse into the dark side of the human psyche.

Where you’ve heard it: The beginning of Lucia’s mad scene forever made its mark on the sci-fi world in the beginning of the memorable alien opera scene from 1997’s The Fifth Element.

Inva Mulla Tchako as “The Diva” performs an aria from Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor then transitions into Eric Serra’s “The Diva Dance” in Luc Besson’s 1997 sci-fi film, The Fifth Element.


Listen: Lucia di Lammermoor
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Donizetti’s dark tragedy.

Opera Around the World

Italy

We’re awarding Italy the top spot here, not so much because of what Italian opera meant at the time but more because of what it means today.

During the early decades of the Romantic era, many composers felt they hadn’t really “made it” unless their work appeared on the French stage. Preferably the Parisian French stage. Sung in French. In French grand opéra style.

Yet, thanks to some influential singers of the mid-20th century (all hail Maria Callas!), today’s opera houses are far more likely to highlight Romantic bel canto operas over any other genre of that period. (That is: Operas with loads of gorgeous singing. Sung in Italian. With memorable arias that often end with a rollicking cabaletta.)

Maria Callas performs an aria from her signature role, Bellini’s druid priestess Norma, with the Orchestre de l'Opéra National de Paris and Georges Sebastian. Recorded live at the Palais Garnier on the 19th of December 1958, this concert marked the soprano’s debut at the Paris Opera.

Bel canto Italian operas frequently fell under the umbrellas of opera buffa or opera seria, only now comedic and dramatic plots (respectively) were thoroughly exploited through vocal pyrotechnics (see  Lucia di Lammermoor’s mad scene). For modern audiences, the three indisputable kings of bel canto are Gioacchino Rossini (1792-1868), Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848), and Vincenzo Bellini (1801-1835), all of whom excelled at sweeping bel canto melodies, though some are better known for their tragedies (*cough*Bellini*cough*) while others have gone down in history as comedic geniuses (ahem…we’re looking at you, Rossini...).

But as we’ve learned, trying to put a composer into a single box is tricky at best. Truth is, both Rossini and Donizetti produced sparkling comedies as well as gripping dramas, and poor Bellini—who tended toward the tragic end of things—died so young it’s hard to speculate on what he would’ve been able to compose in his later years.

France

Ah, Paris. If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. Or so the opera composers of the early 19th century thought. 

As already mentioned, France—and by extension, Paris—was the de facto opera capital of Europe in the first few decades of the 1800s. 

The reason? Two words: grand opéra.

In the early Romantic era, French audiences developed a taste for mammoth opera productions of epic proportions (usually inspired by historical or mythological subjects), presented in a whopping five acts with no spoken dialogue whatsoever. Those stock images of standard opera scenes with gilded costumes, extravagant sets, and a chorus of maybe 100+ people? Grand opéra is where those images began. 

In short: The French were in it for the drama. Maybe even more so than the snappy tunes. In fact, French luminary Hector Berlioz (1803-1869, a pioneering composer who’s probably best known for his symphonic works, though he did manage to pen a few game-changing operas himself), once threw some very snarky shade at Italian operagoers, insinuating their interests were sort of…shall we say…basic: 

“Opera for the Italians is a sensual pleasure and nothing more. For this noble expression of the mind they have hardly more respect than for cooking! They want a score that, like a plate of macaroni, can be [digested] immediately without their having to think about it or even pay attention to it!” – H. Berlioz

(Ouch.)

Regardless of whether French listeners were more cultured than their Italian counterparts, French grand opéra could almost always be counted on to pack houses in a big way. And musicians from miles around wanted a piece of the action. Even big Italian names like Rossini and Donizetti sought French fame with their own Italianate versions of grand opéras (debuted in Paris and sung strictly in French).

Perhaps the greatest champion of the genre was a German-born composer named Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864) who essentially invented the grand opéra template and whose operas Robert le Diable (Robert the Devil) and Les Huguenots (The Huguenots) represent grand opéra at its height.

Yet another standout composer of the period was Daniel-François-Esprit Auber (1782-1871), the man whose 1828 opera Masaniello inspired a real-life revolution and whose musical output turned public attention away from old-school opéra comique toward operas with a heavier dramatic weight with no spoken words to slow things down.

Germany

You can’t talk about Romantic opera—heck, you can’t talk about Romantic music in general—without first talking about Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827). The guy only wrote one opera, but that single work has a permanent place in the operatic canon and is still being performed the entire world over. 

Yup. He was that good. 

Beyond opera, however, Beethoven is widely credited with helping jumpstart music’s Romantic era, catapulting the refined works of the Classical era into a new age of musical composition driven by passion, power, and personal struggle. (Again, this is a fairly reductive way of looking at him, but it’s true that Western music historians often consider Beethoven a transformative, transitional figure.) 

The conclusion of Beethoven’s late-career Symphony No. 9, 4th movement (1824), conducted by Herbert von Karajan. About as much German “Sturm und Drang” as you can fit into 24 minutes.

All this by way of saying: Without Beethoven, we wouldn’t have what came next for German opera. 

Before Beethoven, the state of Germanic opera had been dominated by a combination of Italian-language opera seria and German-language Singspiel. But after Beethoven, German operas were afforded the opportunity to explore rich Romantic themes like star-crossed love and the quest for political freedom as well as physical and psychological torture. (This is the point where we turn directly to camera and blink nervously as if we’re on “The Office.”).

Like the wayward, lovelorn figures of the late-18th century “Sturm und Drang” movement, German operatic characters of this era were often abused by fate, mired in tragedy, or just plain caught up in an old-fashioned battle between good and evil, sometimes within the confines of their own mind. 

Gothic, creepy, and occasionally supernatural (anyone order a pact with the devil in exchange for a shooting match trophy?), early German Romantic opera achieved one of its greatest successes with composer Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) and his work Der Freischütz (“The Freeshooter”), a tale rooted in Germanic folklore that first appeared in Berlin in 1821.

Select Operas of the Early Romantic Era

Important Artists

The Early Romantic Era’s Legacy

Of the many composers who flourished during this period, the ones you’re most likely to encounter today are the big bel canto three: Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini. Bel canto’s reigning popularity is thanks in large part to a mid-20th century revival of these oh-so-very-Italian operas, a key figure of which was the legendary Maria Callas. The Greek soprano’s highly emotive voice and razor-sharp dramatic instincts seemed to make her a natural fit for bel canto’s live-life-on-the-edge heroines, and many music lovers credit her with revitalizing this Italianate style for the vocal generations that followed. 

Early Romantic features you’re still likely to hear or see today: 

  • Extravagant vocal improvisation (aka singers showing off) 
  • Orchestral accompaniment that supports instead of overpowers 
  • Intense—and often bloody—mad scenes (Lucia di Lammermoor remains an international favorite) 

Vocabulary

Bel Canto (“beautiful singing” in Italian) – a vocal style popularly associated with Italian composers of the early 19th century, namely BelliniDonizetti, and Rossini; characterized by extremes of vocal flexibility and range, along with graceful melodies and balanced orchestral accompaniments—all designed to showcase the solo singer.

Cantabile/Cavatina Aria (roughly, a “segmented” or “singable” song in Italian) – a two-part aria, frequently used by bel canto composers; part one (sometimes called “the cavatina” or “the cantabile”) is usually slow and reflective, while part two (known as “the cabaletta,” possibly meaning “horse-like,” as in, “galloping”) is typically a fast-paced response to part one, sometimes featuring breathtaking vocal runs as well as moments of musical improv.

Coloratura – a vocal style favored by bel canto composers featuring tremendous vocal agility and requiring a range that spreads across several musical scales.

Grand Opéra – no surprises here: a Romantic French opera performed on a grand scale, usually divided into four or five acts; standard features include a mid-opera ballet, huge choral ensembles, intricate costumes, ornate set pieces, and an epic historical plotline.

Rescue Opera – an opera that chronicles a dramatic rescue; often a love story in which someone puts everything on the line to save their partner from an evil villain: examples include Luigi Cherubini’s Lodoïska and Beethoven’s Fidelio.

  • Writer

    Eleni Hagen

  • Producer

    Kenny Neal for
    Kennedy Center Education
    Digital Learning

  • Updated

    April 19, 2023

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