Skip to main content

Opera history and Kant




In the history of opera many distinctive movements, one might even call them fashions, have come and gone. That known as bel canto continues to have its admirers among the cognoscenti and I will say a few words about it today.

The phrase simply means "beautiful singing" in Italian. That is not a phase that comes or goes. Who could not want the singing to be beautiful? What bel canto generally means when used outside of vernacular Italian is (a) a particular style of singing that its admirers deem beautiful, and (b) the view that the rest of the opera exists mostly as a setting for that singing. 

The composers and lyricists behind that setting are expected to give the star vocalists plenty of opportunities for exhibitions of vocal gymnastics (coloratura --light agile soprano voices showing off their stuff). They were also supposed to discourage the orchestra from showing ITS stuff. To the mind of a bel canto enthusiast the orchestral accompaniment should be low-key and supportive so that the singing remains the main thing. 

The composers who most satisfied these expectations were: Vincenzo Bellini (1801 - 1835)  and Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868). 

These thoughts come to me today because I recently encountered a speculation about the vogue of bel canto in the mid 19th century that is new to me. The idea is that Immanuel Kant's aesthetics, as expressed in Critique of Judgment (1790) fueled this movement, freeing vocal music from any obligation to serve the words.   

(And just when I was starting to think nice thought about Kant, too. ) 

Kant said that we make four types of judgments about the objects of our sensation: that they are agreeable, beautiful, sublime, or good -- we can affirm or deny any of these. The agreeable is a purely sensory observation . I like French vanilla ice cream. I don't expect to be asked why, It is agreeable. The good is a moral judgment to be rendered by reason, and the subject of the second critique, that on the practical reason.  So aesthetics must especially concern itself with the two in-between judgments: about the beautiful and the sublime.

Within the heading of "beautiful," Kant has another distinction up his Teutonic sleeve, that between free beauty on the one hand and adherent beauty on the other. I can understand adherent beauty X to be beautiful only if I understand its function.  I can understand a simple wooden cabinet open in front to be beautiful, perhaps, once I understand that it was created as a display case for my favorite bound works of philosophy. In general, though, I can understand free beauty X to be beautiful regardless of any conceptual understanding whatsoever. (This sounds to some observers as if Kant is suggesting that the perception of free beauty is contact with a noumenal reality, not a merely phenomenal one, though THAT is a very controversial reading.) 

Bellini's famous Romeo and Juliet themed opera (I Capuleti e I Montecchi) came out forty years after the book in question, after the rather esoteric discussions therein had had plenty of time to worm their way into popular consciousness on the continent of Europe. 

A connection? I'll have to give it some thought. But I gather the underlying idea is that simple orchestral settings are like a plan wooden bookcase -- they may be beautiful, though only in an adherent way. The coloratura they allow is what is free beauty. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Story About Coleridge

This is a quote from a memoir by Dorothy Wordsworth, reflecting on a trip she took with two famous poets, her brother, William Wordsworth, and their similarly gifted companion, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.   We sat upon a bench, placed for the sake of one of these views, whence we looked down upon the waterfall, and over the open country ... A lady and gentleman, more expeditious tourists than ourselves, came to the spot; they left us at the seat, and we found them again at another station above the Falls. Coleridge, who is always good-natured enough to enter into conversation with anybody whom he meets in his way, began to talk with the gentleman, who observed that it was a majestic waterfall. Coleridge was delighted with the accuracy of the epithet, particularly as he had been settling in his own mind the precise meaning of the words grand, majestic, sublime, etc., and had discussed the subject with William at some length the day before. “Yes, sir,” says Coleridge, “it is a majesti

Searle: The Chinese Room

John Searle has become the object of accusations of improper conduct. These accusations even have some people in the world of academic philosophy saying that instructors in that world should try to avoid teaching Searle's views. That is an odd contention, and has given rise to heated exchanges in certain corners of the blogosphere.  At Leiter Reports, I encountered a comment from someone describing himself as "grad student drop out." GSDO said: " This is a side question (and not at all an attempt to answer the question BL posed): How important is John Searle's work? Are people still working on speech act theory or is that just another dead end in the history of 20th century philosophy? My impression is that his reputation is somewhat inflated from all of his speaking engagements and NYRoB reviews. The Chinese room argument is a classic, but is there much more to his work than that?" I took it upon myself to answer that on LR. But here I'll tak

Five Lessons from the Allegory of the Cave

  Please correct me if there are others. But it seems to be there are five lessons the reader is meant to draw from the story about the cave.   First, Plato  is working to devalue what we would call empiricism. He is saying that keeping track of the shadows on the cave wall, trying to make sense of what you see there, will NOT get you to wisdom. Second, Plato is contending that reality comes in levels. The shadows on the wall are illusions. The solid objects being passed around behind my back are more real than their shadows are. BUT … the world outside the the cave is more real than that — and the sun by which that world is illuminated is the top of the hierarchy. So there isn’t a binary choice of real/unreal. There are levels. Third, he equates realness with knowability.  I  only have opinions about the shadows. Could I turn around, I could have at least the glimmerings of knowledge. Could I get outside the cave, I would really Know. Fourth, the parable assigns a task to philosophers