At the Lyric with Fiato Forte: Refuting Martha C. Nussbaum: An open letter to Anthony Freud, General Director, The Lyric Opera of Chicago

It was at a production of Robert Falls’ modern staging of Don Giovanni that I first came across the name of Martha C. Nussbaum. Sitting in my seat before the overture, I flipped through the program to the “Opera Notes” section. Even though I was quite familiar with Mozart’s take on Don Juan, I was eager to learn a new and interesting bit of information. At the top of the page it read,

The intriguing title seemed to offer more than the obligatory historical notes or juicy tidbit found in a copy of Ethan Mordden’s, Opera Anecdotes. It took three paragraphs to turn my piqued interest in to a furrowed brow of disagreement peppered with the occasional head shake. Martha C. Nussbaum was not only challenging my thoughts on the interpretation of Don Giovanni, but the historical aspect of its composition. In the following days I reread the article three more times and put it away in silent disagreement. Over the next eight months I’d occasionally look up some of the contentions that Dr. Nussbaum made in the hopes of setting the record straight if for no one else, but me.

The slow burn that had started with the notes on Don Giovanni came to a full boil almost a year to the date with the Lyric’s season opener of Le Nozze di Figaro. Waiting for another Mozart overture, I flipped to the Opera Notes section of my program only to find the name, Martha C. Nussbaum staring back at me. Taking a deep breath I began to read and once more it was in the third paragraph that my jaw became tense.

In the analysis of The Marriage of Figaro, Dr. Nussbaum had gone much further with her radical viewpoints than she had done with Don Giovanni. She wasn’t just expressing an interpretation of the opera, but had resorted to historical revisionism to support her hypothesis. Being a person who had studied music, singing, and opera, I had done more than the average amount of reading on the subject of musical history. I spent the next week looking in to the claims of her Opera notes for Le Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni. After highlighting sentence after sentence and making notations in the columns, I decided to write a response to Dr. Nussbaum and the General Director of the Lyric Opera, Mr. Anthony Freud. I quickly realized that this was going to be no small undertaking. Given that one of the many points that I wished to make was the lack of supporting evidence used in Dr. Nussbaum’s articles, it would be hypocritical of me to write what may be viewed as a pithy retort without holding myself to the same standard.

This refutation of Martha Nussbaum’s opera notes (which are linked to this article) will be with respect to the Mozart operas, Don Giovanni and Le Nozze di Figaro as well as the works that they are adapted from and/or based on. This will also include historical information including, but not limited to musical practices in operatic performance and singing, theatrical/dramatic practices, and interpretation. It’s important to disclose that although Dr. Nussbaum is the author and/or editor of many books and articles in addition to teaching at Harvard, Brown University, and the University Of Chicago Law School (where she is currently Ernst Freund Distinguished Service Professor of Law and Ethics, at the completion of this refutation, I have not read any materials written by her other than the two articles published in the Lyric Opera of Chicago’s program for the 2014 production of Don Giovanni and the 2015 production of Le Nozze di Figaro.

The conclusions of my research led me to the fact that Martha Nussbaum’s claims within her Opera Notes are, not only highly subjective, but quite often incorrect. Dr. Nussbaum makes statements and assertions as if they were fact with little to no corroborating evidence. She regularly leaves out pertinent information that may otherwise conflict with or contradict her claims. Many of Dr. Nussbaum’s contentions are based on her own personal interpretation which is the result of a hyper-literal view of the dramatic actions. Many of her statements, with regard to singing, are not factually and/or historically correct nor does she seem to take theatrical or musical techniques in to consideration when forming these views. Perhaps most disconcerting of all are Martha Nussbaum’s overwhelmingly generalized critiques and judgements based on gender.

A reader without a strong knowledge of these operas or the works they’re based on might take Martha Nussbaum to be an authority on the subject, which judging from these two articles, she is not. Audience members may leave the opera thinking that Dr. Nussbaum’s subjective interpretations are the intentions of the composer, like taking the movie Amadeus to be more fact than fiction. It is the responsibility of the musical institution, in this case the Lyric Opera of Chicago, to communicate an honest account of the work, including articles written for their programs. That’s not to say that an opera company doesn’t have leeway when it comes to interpretation, but it’s far too easy to misrepresent the musical and dramatic intentions of the composer and librettist. It is incumbent upon an institution like the Lyric Opera of Chicago, which strives to represent the true form of opera, to avoid this at all costs. The Lyric failed in this endeavor when engaging Martha Nussbaum to write the program notes for their productions. Within her opera notes, Martha Nussbaum skillfully crafts a revised history of Mozart’s intentions with regard to Don Giovanni and Le Nozze di Figaro in order to fit a narrative of her own design.

Music & Drama

Martha Nussbaum has Don Giovanni-like perseverance when it comes to her attempt in revising the end of these two operas. Throughout the two articles Dr. Nussbaum distorts the motivations of characters and misrepresents their actions to fit her desired interpretation and in doing so, commits egregious errors with respect to the music and drama. Dr. Nussbaum repeatedly criticizes the librettist Da Ponte and presents her subjective viewpoints as the inner thoughts of Mozart himself. Dr. Nussbaum contradicts her own points and comes across as hypocritical when admonishing actions that she repeatedly takes part in.

Martha Nussbaum opens her opera notes on Le Nozze di Figaro by saying the opera is “officially” based on the Beaumarchais play, but she asserts that Mozart intended a “subversive rereading”. She offers no solid evidence to corroborate her bold claim other than to give more subjective interpretation meant to align the reader’s assumed interest in the music of Mozart with her own. She claims that some directors try to make the opera more serious and in doing so, flout “the subtle and volatile passions of Mozart’s music”. This statement does nothing for her original contention, but to beg for more supporting evidence. Unfortunately Dr. Nussbaum continues to build on the Ponzi scheme of assertions without proof, which exposes her blatant confirmation bias.

She writes that “the music, its own emotional universe, goes far deeper than Beaumarchais’s play, deeper even than da Ponte’s witty libretto”. Dr. Nussbaum attempts to buttress this last claim with her analytical description of the duet, Sull’aria between The Countess and Susanna. In describing how the duet was used in the Stephen King film, Shawshank Redemption, Dr. Nussbaum says that the prisoners hear “freedom” in the duet despite not understanding the words which is an example of how Mozart’s music is its own emotional universe that goes beyond the words of Beaumarchais or Da Ponte. The problem with that logic is even if the prisoners of this fictional movie feel free as a result of hearing a beautiful female duet, how do we know that it was Mozart’s doing? Couldn’t it be that they were so detached from the outside world, not to mention women, that just the sound of something foreign caught their attention? What if the music the prisoners heard was the famous Flower duet from Lakme? Would they not be as interested?

She makes a similar contention with respect to Cherubino’s aria, Voi che sapete. Dr. Nussbaum says that “the music of the aria would tell us” what Cherubino is trying to express “without the words”. She says that “Here, if anywhere, Mozart’s music moves well beyond Da Ponte’s text.” I support Dr. Nussbaum expressing her personal feelings and a new interpretation, but that doesn’t make her claims correct. We can never really know if the aria would convey the same message without the words, so for Dr. Nussbaum to make an assertion that can never be proven is an exercise in futility. Once again, Dr. Nussbaum looks to align her reading audience with her own subjective viewpoints by pandering to their assumed love of the music.

In addition to praising the genius of Mozart (which is like praising Michael Jordan for making a game winning shot centuries after it happened), Dr. Nussbaum insults and dismisses the work of Da Ponte, a ground breaking librettist who was sought after by the foremost composers in Europe. In the very last paragraph of her notes on Figaro, Dr. Nussbaum states,

“These ideas of trust and reconciliation are not clear in the text, but only in the music.”

How is that in any way a legitimate or serious contention? Beaumarchais’s play came before Mozart’s opera and conveyed these ideas without music. Martha Nussbaum would have us believe that if we were to read the play without Mozart’s music, we wouldn’t know what was happening. The truth is Martha Nussbaum has to align herself with the love of Mozart’s music, as well as disparage Beaumarchais and Da Ponte in order to have any chance at successfully making her claims. If she doesn’t divorce the words from the music, then it is too easy for anyone with knowledge of The Marriage of Figaro to dismiss her assertions. It allows her to reshape historical anecdotes to fit her narrative as in the case of the final sextet of Don Giovanni.

Dr. Nussbaum cites and endorses American critic and musicologist, Joseph Kerman’s idea that the ending to Don Giovanni feels “unconvincing and flat”. Dr. Nussbaum says that the final sextet “has sometimes been cut in performance, including by Gustav Mahler”, but what she fails to provide are the reasons for this cut. Although Mozart himself seemed to have a bit of a quandary with respect to the ending of Don Giovanni, evidence leans towards time constraint being the motivating factor. Some Romantic era conductors, like Mahler, favored cutting the final sextet because Don Giovanni’s damnation was a suitable ending for the sentiments of the time. It was not because, as Dr. Nussbaum supports, that “Mozart had a “hard time subscribing wholeheartedly to the cruel punishment of anyone”.

Mozart was a religious individual who believed in a loving, but strict God. If anything, the story of The Profligate punished fits nicely with Mozart’s theology. Like the original Don Juan story by Tirso de Molina, Mozart’s Don Giovanni is an allegory against the unrestrained pursuits of the individual without care or concern for others. Mozart wouldn’t have had any concern over the subject of vengeance as it was already decided for him in the preceding stories. The major decision point for Mozart and Da Ponte had to do with what direction Don Giovanni would go when given the opportunity to repent. The real question with regard to final sextet is who’s punished? Don Giovanni is sent away (to hell assumedly), but it is the remaining six characters that are left unresolved. Dr. Nussbaum doesn’t address this reality at all other than to say that the ending falls flat.

Martha Nussbaum criticizes Romantic era “(male)” critics, specifically Soren Kierkegaard in their interpretation of Don Giovanni as Eros incarnate. In addition to criticizing the music that Don Giovanni sings, she chastises “these romantic men” for being “duped by the evident power of Mozart’s music in to locating this ‘demonic’ power in the person of the Don”. Had she mentioned the overly Romantic interpretation of E.T.A Hoffmann or modern day critics like William Mann who said with respect to Donna Anna, “it would be beneficial to her personal growing up if she had been pleasantly raped”, that would’ve made more sense. Instead she went after a fictional treatise by Kierkegaard which was meant to illustrate the difference between the aesthetic seducer and the ethical seducer.

Martha Nussbaum goes on to write that,

“Perhaps the idea of boundless sexual energy without love or tenderness has appeal for men of a certain age- but that doesn’t license projecting those sentiments onto Mozart”.

I am tempted to break apart the first half of the above quote, but I’d prefer to save that for later. Martha Nussbaum comes across as hypocritical in berating them for projecting their sentiments given that she has repeatedly done this without strong corroborating evidence to back up her claims. She follows this statement with a conclusion that would be hilarious if it wasn’t serious.

“So far as out first enigma is concerned, then, the opera gives a clear answer (my bold, not hers): the Don is a horrible and empty person, whose passing we should not lament, and who sure is not…the source of the vitality of all the other characters.”

I agree with Dr. Nussbaum with respect to the view that Don Giovanni is a horrible and empty person, but that doesn’t logically lead us to her “clear answer”. Dr. Nussbaum contradicts her own claim that Don Giovanni is not “the source of vitality” for the other characters when she supports the idea that the final sextet falls flat as a result of Mozart’s supposed reluctance towards revenge. Again, Mahler favored the cut because he thought the opera should end with the death of Giovanni.

Martha Nussbaum, as I have repeatedly pointed out, inserts her own subjective thoughts in to the characters, the music, and at times the plot itself. If there is any subversive retelling of the story, it is the hypocritical revisionism of Dr. Nussbaum. She assumes the role of arbiter and projects her sentiments and desired outcome on to the works of Mozart and Da Ponte while dismissing any information that would contradict her thesis. Perhaps the most relevant question would be to ask, ‘What is her motivation?’

Figaro and Count Almaviva

As I mentioned in the previous section, Dr. Miss Nussbaum opening lines of her opera notes for this seasons’ Lyric Opera production of The Marriage of Figaro states,

“Officially, The Marriage of Figaro (1786) is based on Beaumarchais’s radical comedy of 1778…”

With this fragment, Dr. Nussbaum sets up the audience for a bold claim. She goes on to say that “The music is its own emotional music universe,” and it “goes far deeper than Beaumarchais’s play, deeper even than Da Ponte’s witty libretto”. In the next paragraph, Dr. Nussbaum delivers on the promise of her opening lines with the claim “…our first clues to Mozart’s subversive rereading” is “that Figaro and the Count are very similar, both musically and thematically.” She goes so far as to state that “(The two roles are written so that the same singer could sing either role.)”, as if she is privy to the composer’s intentions for these two characters. This is the first example of Dr. Nussbaum being factually incorrect.

Mozart, like so many operatic composers, tailored his music to the overall abilities of the singers at his disposal. Evidence of this can be found in a letter written from Mozart’s father, Leopold, to his wife on November 24^th of 1770 when Mozart was 14 years old. In it, Leopold tells of his son’s workload and that “he (W.A. Mozart) has only composed one aria for the primo uomo (Male soprano, Pietro Benedetti)”, who had not arrived yet for rehearsals “…because Wolfgang refuses to do the work twice over and prefers to wait for his arrival so as to fit the costume to the figure.”

Mozart often composed operatic pieces, especially arias, with a specific singer in mind. In the case of “The Marriage of Figaro”, which premiered in Vienna 1786, Francesco Benucci sang the role of Figaro and Stefano Mandini sang the Count. If Dr. Nussbaum’s claim that these two baritone roles were written to be interchangeable with one another is correct, then these two singers should sound similar to one another.

Francesco Benucci was a leading Italian opera buffa singer whose voice was described as “more bass than baritone”. He created the Mozart roles of Figaro and Leporello in Vienna and also sang the role of Bartolo in Paisiello’s opera, “The Barber of Seville”. A critic for the Berliner Musikalische Zeitung in 1793 described his voice as “one of the premier buffos in opera buffa, combines unaffected, excellent acting with an exceptionally round, beautiful, and full bass voice”. A buffo, as Benucci was called, is a comic bass role that calls for a darker tone, a lower tessitura, and vocal agility with regard to patter singing, especially popular in late 18^th century and early 19^th century opera.

Italian baritone Stefano Mandini, who was known for his singing and acting skills, was described as a ‘mezzo carattere’ which means half-comic, half-serious. In 1786 he created roles in Salieri’s Prima La Musica e poi le parole, Soler’s Una cosa rara, and Count Almaviva in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. Mandini was also known for the role of Count Almaviva in Paisiello’s opera, Il Barbiere di Siviglia. The difference between Mozart’s Almaviva and Paisiello’s is the fact that the latter was written for a tenor, not a baritone. Mandini was more of a lyric baritone which allowed him to comfortably sing both roles, which can also be attributed to musical tuning of pitch in Mozart’s time.

The tuning of musical pitch in the late 18^th century is different compared to modern musical standards. Without going in to a long explanation, the pitch known as ‘A’ that Mozart tuned to was lower than the one we use now. Based on historical information, Mozart was tuning to A=421 hz which is lower than the modern era of A=440 hz. Taking this in to consideration, it makes more sense how Stefano Mandini, a baritone, could possibly sing the tenor role of Count Almaviva in Paisiello’s Barber of Seville which probably went no higher than an F4. The range and tessitura required for the entire role of Figaro would also be lower. Benucci wouldn’t have to sing an ‘F4’, in modern tuning, for the high note in the aria, Se vuol balare. A lyric baritone, which by all descriptions was Stefano Mandini’s voice type, would probably not be able to sing the lower notes for the role of Figaro.

Another difference between the two voices can be found in ensembles in which they both take part. In the Act 2 finale when Figaro and the Count sing in 4 voice sections, it’s the Count who takes the tenor part while Figaro sings what would be considered the bass. After the entrance of Marcellina, Bartolo, and Basilio, the Count sings a hybrid of the tenor and bass parts depending on the tessitura. If the bass part sits below C3 then the Count sings an octave above. Similar part writing is found in the Act 4 finale as well. The Count sings with the tenor part unless it sits too high, in which case he sings a baritone part in between the tenor and bass or doubles the bass part until it is too low. All of this illustrates the fact that from an aural standpoint, the roles of Figaro and the Count are in fact quite distinct from one another in range, tessitura, and perhaps most importantly the timbre of the voices that created these roles.

In addition to describing the roles of Figaro and Almaviva as interchangeable Martha Nussbaum also claims the two roles “are very similar, both musically and thematically.” This assertion is more false than it is true. As stated above, the role of Figaro is considered a buffo role or comic part, which is more bass than baritone. It does require technical agility, as do most 18^th century leading opera roles, but one of the features of a buffo or comic role is the “patter” singing. Although a lyrical baritone, like Stefano Mandini, at times performed comic roles, it was usually the Buffa’s (bass) music that would take on the signature comic characteristics. The vocal lines of Figaro are more angular in nature and contain fast moving patter sections that were a hallmark of a non-aristocratic character. That’s not to say that Figaro doesn’t have more lyrical melodies or that the Count doesn’t have fast paced sections that contain a lot of words, but Figaro’s vocal line tends to be more bouncy in nature, accented with words or sticcatti rhythms, and accentuated with larger intervals. Count Almaviva’s melodies tend to be more stepwise in motion or smaller intervals allowing for melodic phrases that are connected in a legato line which were intended to sound more aristocratic or refined to the audience. These are the main aspects of what distinguish the two types of baritones as well as the two characters.

In the same paragraph, Dr. Nussbaum asks, “What do these men sing about when they are alone?”, and quickly answers “Outraged honor, the desire for revenge, the pleasure of dominating your male adversary”. She sees a lack of Love, wonder, and delight on the part of Figaro and the Count. This rhetorical exercise in hypophora is misleading to say the least, especially with regard to Figaro.

In opera when an aria is sung without any other characters present, it usually signals a stop in the action so that the character may reveal an emotion or intention that is important for the audience to know. It also explains the dramatic motivation for the character and how they wish to resolve their personal conflict. When he sings his first aria, Se vuol balare, Figaro has just learned of the Count’s intention to seduce his fiancée, Susanna. What has been Figaro’s temperament and mood before this revelation? He and Susanna are preparing for their wedding, poking fun at one another and singing a fun duet. Figaro sounds like a person deeply in love. It makes sense that he’s upset that his employer, whom he has known and trusted for years, would betray him by trying to seduce Susanna.

Martha Nussbaum doesn’t stop there. She states that “If Figaro is the harbinger of a new world, we don’t hear it, since his passions are those of the old.” This is one of the many loaded assertions that require strong supporting evidence which she fails to provide. Anyone familiar with the character of Figaro knows that he is, for all intents and purposes, a self-made man. He’s a jack of all trades with an entrepreneurial spirit and a desire for equal opportunity which are the cornerstone beliefs of the French Revolution. Figaro refuses to accept the rights of an aristocratic hierarchy. It is mainly his love for Susanna that motivates him during this crazy day. Just because he doesn’t declare it in an aria when he’s alone doesn’t mean that he’s lacking in that emotion, nor does it equate him thematically with the Count. The characterization of Figaro is clear no matter how subversive Martha Nussbaum thinks Mozart’s intentions may have been.

Martha Nussbaum ends the section with the warning, “If he’s going to be happy in love (and, we might add, if the new regime is to be happy in reciprocity), he will have to learn a different tune-“. Rather than trying to unpack this statement it may be better to break it apart in the next section.

Susanna and the Countess

Dr. Miss Nussbaum declares “The females of the opera inhabit a musical and textual world that is from the beginning utterly unlike that of the men. First of all, it contains friendship”. Unfortunately for Dr. Nussbaum she either forgets or hopes to gloss over the fact that the first interaction between two female characters in the opera is centered on mutual competition. Marcellina, who wishes to marry Figaro, verbally spars back and forth with Susanna. Neither of the two ladies back down from attempting to dominate the other through insults, name-calling, and shaming. The only reason this passionate competition ends, an attribute Dr. Nussbaum earlier described as evoking the old regime, is due to the revelation of Figaro being the illegitimate son of Marcellina and Bartolo. Ironically, before Susanna learns of her cleared path to marriage with Figaro, she mistakenly thinks that he has married Marcellina and is jealous with rage (both in the opera and the play).

Dr. Nussbaum states that Susanna and the Countess are very close and their friendly partnership stems from mutual respect and reciprocal affection. Under the dramatic circumstances, why would an aristocratic woman and her maid, who is being wooed by the formers husband, work in mutual cooperation? It’s because they are not in mutual competition. The Countess knows that Susanna does not encourage or want the Count’s advances. Their personal motivations do not conflict with one another. If the Countess suspected Susanna in any way, then that respect and mutual affection would go out the window faster than Cherubino in Act 2.

Dr. Nussbaum uses the letter duet of Act 3, Sull’aria, as an example of their “friendly attunement”. She claims that “the music takes the suggestion of reciprocity and equality much further”. She states that “the women take inspiration from one another’s musical phrases, exchanging ideas with a sinuous capacity for response and a heightened awareness of the other’s pitch, rhythm, and even timbre”. But if we break down this scene and the short recitative before, an additional picture takes shape.

The Countess and Susanna discuss their plot to embarrass the Count in to submission through revenge which is one of the motivating factors that link the two women. We don’t hear them singing of their mutual respect or interests outside of this situation. The Countess orders Susanna to write a letter and dictates the words to seal their plan. When Susanna questions her, the Countess responds tersely,

“Eh scrivi, dico, e tutto io prendo su me stessa.”

“Eh, write I say, and everything I take on myself.”

This is a straightforward example of how their relationship works and it’s not an isolated one either. Martha Nussbaum cannot deny that the Countess treats Susanna like the maid she is. Dr. Nussbaum asked the question with respect to the men, “What do these men sing about when they are alone?” Can’t the women be asked the same? Before the aria, “Dove sono”, The Countess has a recitative the ends with her lamenting the fact that her husband’s actions have caused her to lower herself to seeking out the assistance of her maid. Not too respectful a sentiment, is it? No matter how beautiful the music may be the fact remains that, like the Count and Figaro, the Countess and Susanna are not truly friends. They are tied together by convenience and a mutual need over the course of a very important day in their lives.

Another important aspect to this relationship, which Martha Nussbaum leaves out, is that it involves not two, but three people. If the Countess is friends with Susanna, then she is friends with Figaro as well. A great deal of the plan that the Countess and Susanna depend on has been hatched by Figaro. It is a testament to the mutual love and respect of Figaro and Susanna that they share all of the inter-palazzo drama with each other. When the Countess and Cherubino are in fear of being found out by the Count in Act 2, it is Figaro that comes in to save the day with some improvisation.

As stated before, if Figaro’s passions are evocative of the old regime rather than a sign of the new, as Martha Nussbaum claims, then Susanna and the Countess are right alongside him in that boat. It’s the Countess who pushes their plans forward to publically embarrass the Count and it’s the Countess who recklessly endangers the marriage of Susanna and Figaro. Susanna, at the Countess’s insistence, gives the letter that they penned to the Count during the wedding ceremony. Figaro is under the impression that the rendezvous, which originally involved Cherubino, was no longer to take place. Once he finds out that Susanna will go herself and meet the Count in the grove later that night, he mistakenly thinks that the plan is an actual lover’s tryst. If the Countess would have just confronted her husband, she could’ve made more headway in her pursuit of reciprocal love instead of putting Susanna in jeopardy.

Dr. Nussbaum describes the Countess as someone who “has a great deal of sense”. In The Barber of Seville she fell in love with a student whom she never met and after finding out that he wasn’t who he said he was, still married him with little reservation. Years later when her marriage had lost its fizzle, the Countess encourages a flirtatious teen-aged boy, her godson, to fill the romantic void in her life and goes so far as to have him in her bedroom while the Count is away. This doesn’t sound like a person that could be described as having “a great deal of sense”.

At the end of the second page of her opera notes on The Marriage of Figaro, Martha Nussbaum posits the question,

“How, then, do things end? In particular, what happens when the Count begs his wife for forgiveness?”

Dr. Nussbaum answers that the male world temporarily yields to the female world. Huh?! How does she figure that one? If anything, it is the aristocratic world bowing to the common citizen. The Countess wouldn’t have gotten her reconciliation and the Count would’ve continued his philandering ways had it not been for the plans and quick wit of Susanna and Figaro.

After inhabiting the inner thoughts of the Countess, Martha Nussbaum transforms the character in to an emotional martyr of sorts by telling the reader that after a brief internal debate while deliberating the Count’s apology in Act 4, the Countess answers,

“I am nicer and I say yes,”

Dr. Nussbaum takes great liberty with the translation. The sung line is,

“Piu docile io sono, e dico di si.”, which translates in to,

“More docile I am, and I say yes.”

This may be splitting hairs, but it is an important difference. The Countess is saying that she is more tractable or easily led than the Count. She is willingly submissive, however insincere the Count’s apology may very well be. I don’t want a female character with a philandering husband to submit herself to further marital strife, but that is the reality of the scene. It appears that Martha Nussbaum does not want to accept this aspect in a Mozart opera and wishes to exact historical revisionism in the hopes of disassociating him from any labels of sexism.

Dr. Nussbaum continues to seemingly channel the inner thoughts of the Countess when she states, “she is saying yes to the imperfection in all their lives,…”. She continues a few paragraphs down, “What the Countess agrees to, here, is also what the ensemble also agrees to…” Dr. Nussbaum presupposes that the Countess’s thoughts are in fact the thoughts of the entire ensemble as if they’ve been assimilated in to the Borg-Rosina. In the Act 4 finale, the entire ensemble repeatedly sings,

“Ah tutti contenti saremo cosi.” which translates in to,

“Ah all contented we will be like this.” referring to the resolution of their conflicts and the attainment of their motivation: Love, marriage, reconciliation, and peace.

Martha Nussbaum incorrectly translates that same line as,

“Ah, all of us will be happy in that way.”

In the next paragraph Martha Nussbaum explains that the ensemble accepts the world as a flawed place and not a fairy-tale fantasy. On the surface there’s nothing wrong with that viewpoint except for the fact that throughout her article Dr. Nussbaum has continuously stated that the male characters (specifically Figaro and the Count) need to learn from the women. She actually states “…that even if men are capable of learning from women- and both Figaro and the Count have learned something…“. She rarely points out a flaw or behavior that needs to be changed in any of the female characters of Le Nozze di Figaro or Don Giovanni, and when she does it is tossed away as an exception.

What have Figaro and the Count learned from Susanna and The Countess that they didn’t already know? What, if anything, has the Countess and or Susanna learned and who did they learn it from?

Cherubino

Based on her article for Le Nozze di Figaro, Martha Nussbaum’s interpretation of the French revolution was not a revolt of the classes, but of gender. To be fair, Miss Nussbaum doesn’t deride every male in the opera. There is one ‘man’ that she points to as the pivotal character, “a male who can be both delightful and loving, a harbinger of new possibilities for men and women”. That messenger of reciprocal love, in Dr. Nussbaum’s opinion, is none other than teenaged page, Cherubino. There are just a few problems with her logic.

Martha Nussbaum spends a great deal of her Figaro opera notes explaining how and why Cherubino is different from all the other male characters in the opera. She puts forth the question,

“How did Cherubino get to be this way…”

She answers,

“He was brought up by women and kept a stranger to the men’s world.”

The problem with this statement is that it is historically and dramatically incorrect. A vast majority of teachers in the 18^th century were men. Education, not yet compulsory, was mainly done by men except in convents and in the lower classes in which teaching was sometimes relegated to family members (To be clear, I am in no way saying that men should be teachers over women or that they are inherently better teachers than women). Cherubino is the godson of the Countess which means that although he may not have been born an aristocrat, he’s probably from an affluent and connected family. As a page or messenger he probably lived at the Almaviva’s palazzo. He would’ve been tutored by the family’s teachers in areas such as riding, shooting, reading, and writing to name a few. And like most Europeans in the 18^th century he would’ve been taught music in some form or another including singing. If this were the case he would’ve studied with Don Basilio, who as we know gave Susanna singing lessons. He wouldn’t have been taught by women at this age. It is important to know that Cherubino’s education is not mentioned in the opera nor is it really discussed in the play either, yet Dr. Nussbaum tells us that his education is “the focal point of the opera’s depiction of what a new type of man might be”. If so, where did she get the notion that Cherubino was only taught by women?

Dr. Nussbaum continues to answer the question of how Cherubino got to be the way he is due to the fact that “he was brought up by women and kept a stranger to the men’s world”. Obviously this has already been refuted in the paragraph above, but to further prove the inaccuracy of this claim, a page reporting to the Count would’ve been at his beck and call. If the Count had an urgent message that needed to be sent or an errand to be run, his page would’ve been expected to stop what he was doing, unless someone else was available. Cherubino would’ve spent a great deal of time being around men. Again this begs the question, why did Martha Nussbaum claim that Cherubino had been kept a stranger to the men’s world?

The false assertions and illogical reasoning with respect to Cherubino doesn’t stop there. Dr. Nussbaum claims that Cherubino is the opera’s pivotal character. She feels it’s significant that the harbinger for new possibilities is a male character that doesn’t sing in a male voice. It was common at that time to have mezzo-sopranos sing the part of a teen-aged boy for the obvious reasons of vocal ability, brighter tone quality, the softer look of a young man, as well as the professionalism of an adult. Dr. Nussbaum also makes incorrect assumptions about Cherubino that are contradicted by the text itself. Dr. Nussbaum states,

“Cherubino is clearly, in crucial ways, masculine. He is tall (Susanna has to ask him to kneel down so that she can put on his bonnet), good looking (Figaro and the Count are both jealous of him)…”

A few lines before Susanna tells Cherubino to kneel down in Act 2, she sings,

“Lasciatemi veder; andra benissimo: siam d’uguale statura…” translated as,

“Let me see; We will go very well: we are of equal stature…”

Susanna asks him to bend down not because he’s taller, but because it’s easier to manage. How did Martha Nussbaum miss this?

The second part of that statement refers to both Figaro’s and the Count’s jealousy of Cherubino. The Count is jealous of everyone, not Cherubino alone. Almaviva wants the attention because, like Cherubino, he’s an immature horn-dog. Figaro is not jealous of Cherubino, although he does get upset with him in Act 4 when he overhears Cherubino trying to seduce who Figaro thinks is Susanna. This can be viewed as more of an annoyance to Figaro’s plans rather than jealousy.

She claims that Cherubino is masculine, but he cries at the drop of a hat like a young teen-aged boy might do when not getting his way and at one point the Countess has to wipe away his tears. In his own words, Cherubino is overly emotional, irrational, and easily confused by what he feels. In short, he’s a boy going through puberty.

He’s impetuous in the way he declares his ‘love’ for all women in the castle. The song that Dr. Nussbaum claims he wrote especially as a gift for the Countess is directed at women in general. Cherubino makes no distinction as to who he’d like to have ‘teach’ him about love which is not necessarily the reciprocal kind that Dr. Nussbaum espouses. He attempts to seduce Susanna in the garden, he is caught in Barbarina’s room, he tries to declare his love to the Countess who interrupts him, and he goes so far to include Marcellina (a middle-aged spinster) to his list of muses.

Martha Nussbaum says that he is the only male that talks about or shows interest in the emotion of love, but is Cherubino feeling reciprocal love? The definition of ‘reciprocal’ reads as “shared, felt, or shown by both sides”. Cherubino definitely shows his feelings, but does he reciprocate in kind? Does the Countess discuss her feelings, troubles, or concerns while he sits and listens attentively? No.

Cherubino does whatever he can to get close to a woman so that he can be in physical contact with them. He embraces them, kisses them, follows them, and even takes souvenirs from them. He is constantly thinking about women and wanting to be alone with them in hopes of having a romantic interlude. He’s not looking for a long conversation about their feelings, their wants, or their needs. Horny teen-aged boys aren’t normally interested in deep conversation. Just because he talks about love doesn’t mean that he understands it. What he is truly thinking about is lust. That’s not to say that he is bad, he’s just NOT in love.

Martha Nussbaum cites Cherubino’s eagerness to learn from women as something that sets him apart from other male characters. She says that what he’s seeking is outside his own ego. What would a girl-crazy teen-aged boy wish to learn from women? Spoiler alert! It’s sex! That’s what he’s seeking outside of himself. Dr. Nussbaum goes on to say that Cherubino is “utterly vulnerable and makes no attempt to conceal his vulnerability”. He is vulnerable, but not due to some sense of trust or altruism. It’s because he doesn’t know any better. He doesn’t have maturity, life experience, or empirical knowledge to guide him. He is easily exploited and is actually conned into marrying Barbarina at the end of the opera, despite his lack of commitment to one person.

More contradictory evidence to Dr. Miss Nussbaum’s claims can be found in the actions of Figaro. As stated earlier, Figaro is spending every moment looking to stop the Count from seducing his fiancé, helping to reconcile the Almavivas, and putting out any additional fires that may pop up along the way. Cherubino isn’t thinking of anyone else’s feeling, but his own (which again is understandable seeing that he is a teen-aged boy).

It is more than a little disconcerting to think that Dr. Nussbaum is looking to the love-struck ramblings of an inchoate adolescent boy as the model for reciprocal love in a post-revolutionary man. It is painfully clear that when interpreting Mozart’s intentions, Dr. Nussbaum looked past the all too obvious clues that can be found in the name of Cherubino itself. His behavior throughout the opera reminds me of Saint Isidore of Seville’s description of cupid found in his etymologiae:

“Cupid is winged, allegedly, because lovers are flighty and likely to change their minds, and boyish because love is irrational. His symbols are the arrow and torch, ‘because love wounds and inflames the heart’."

Within the last three paragraphs of Martha Nussbaum’s notes on The Marriage of Figaro she says that “…it seems far more likely that Cherubino will be corrupted by the male world around him….” If she is correct that the male world is “corrupt”, then perhaps Cherubino is already corrupted as his behavior demonstrates. Cherubino’s penchant for ‘making love’ to a diverse group of women and his temperament could easily be compared to another character in a Mozart opera. Someone older and more successful in his sexual exploits, but comparable in maturity and desire.

Zerlina, Donna Anna, and Donna Elvira

In her Opera notes for the Lyric’s 2014 production of Don Giovanni, Martha Nussbaum argues that the prime source of vitality within the opera is not the eponymous character, but the “trio of remarkable women.” She asserts that although “required by the plot to approve of the punishment of the Don, each of them has a moment in which she turns away from the morality of revenge to embrace a richer conception of love.” Dr. Nussbaum then delves in to how each one of the three women rebel against their own hunger for revenge. But dramatically how can that be when their actions, from start to finish, are motivated as a result of their dealings with Don Giovanni? Additionally, why are we calling these three characters “remarkable”?

This section of Dr. Nussbaum’s article begins with the case for Zerlina who, as Dr. Nussbaum states, has no attachment to honor which allows her easy access to tenderness. If we solely focus on Zerlina’s two arias, then it would at first glance appear that Dr. Nussbaum’s viewpoint is basically correct. In Batti, batti, o bel Masetto, Zerlina declares that she will passively sit and let her fiancé beat her if it will make him happy, after which she will kiss his hands. She continues to sooth Masetto’s anger by saying that they will joyfully pass the days and nights together. In Act 2 she tells Masetto that if he is good, she will cure his wounds with physical love. Both arias are loving, tender, and dedicated, if you will, to her betrothed. There’s just one problem. Zerlina walked out on her husband the day of their wedding for a rich handsome aristocrat (whom she had known for five minutes) based on a promise to change her life. To make matters worse, she never takes responsibility for her actions or apologizes. Instead Zerlina claims to be a victim of Don Giovanni. She resorts to emotional manipulation by telling Masetto that he can beat her if he likes as long as they make up and be happy together afterward. Is this another example of reciprocal love?

Martha Nussbaum writes that Zerlina’s second aria, Vedrai, carino expresses the sentiment “that sexual love can heal the wounds created by a vain competition between men”.

“The body affirms what hierarchical culture so often denies.”

But both Dr. Nussbaum and Zerlina seem to forget that Masetto wouldn’t be seeking revenge if Zerlina hadn’t run off with another man. Masetto is not in vain competition with Don Giovanni. Masetto is angry that his wife left him at the altar and is not legally able to bring Don Giovanni to justice. He is left with no other recourse than to resort to vigilantism. Martha Nussbaum does not in any way hold Zerlina accountable for her choices, but has no problem casting aspersions on Masetto.

Martha Nussbaum does concede that the two aristocratic female characters in Don Giovanni “have a more difficult time with tenderness, since in an honor culture outraged honor seems to demand steely revenge.” Dr. Nussbaum, who consistently criticizes revenge, honor, and hierarchical differences, claims that Donna Anna “puts this honor culture in its best possible light”, referencing the aria, Or sai chi l’onore. She goes on to say that the aria “makes the demand for bloodshed sound almost like a high-minded assertion of human dignity with no downside.” It sounds as if Dr. Nussbaum allows the music to distract her from what Donna Anna is asking for and why. But before we go in to that area, it may be important to give a very brief background on the historical characterization of Donna Anna.

Lorenzo Da Ponte based his libretto for Don Giovanni on different Don Juan stories from Tirso de Molina, to Moliere, to Giuseppe Gazaniga’s Don Giovanni which premiered in Venice, February of 1787. The character of Donna Anna shows up in de Molina’s The Trickster of Seville, but isn’t betrothed to Don Ottavio. In that play, Doña Ana plans on making love to a man whom Don Juan deceives in order to take his place in disguise. Obviously Mozart and Da Ponte had to shorten the story and remove or condense characters. Donna Anna becomes a composite of sorts for Tirso’s Countess Isabella and Doña Ana who is coupled with Don Ottavio (Duke Octavio in de Monlina’s story). Like Gazzaniga’s opera, Da Ponte sets the opening moments before Don Giovanni flees from Donna Anna.

At the risk of digressing further, the city of Prague not only loved Mozart, but had a desire for Don Juan stories. The Don Giovanni audience at this time would’ve been aware of the many different tales of the Trickster even in Da Ponte’s edited version. The fact that de Molina’s Doña Ana (the equivalent of Donna Anna) invited a man up to her room later that night for some lovemaking would not be lost on the theater goers nor the fact that Don Juan (Don Giovanni) disguised himself as the intended lover and tried to seduce Doña Ana in his place. We can’t know for sure, but it is possible that Mozart’s Donna Anna had a similar intention which Don Giovanni was aware of and exploited.

If we were to treat the opening of Don Giovanni as an investigation we’d have many questions, even as a member of the audience who’s privy to a good deal of information. How did Don Giovanni get in to Donna Anna’s room? If Don Giovanni was looking to sexually assault her, would he risk a loud struggle in the middle of the night within ear shot of so many people to catch him? And perhaps the most important question surrounds the death of the Commendatore. Was it actually Murder?

Don Giovanni is trying to escape; the Commendatore arrives on the scene and challenges Don Giovanni to duel. At first Don Giovanni refuses, but the Commendatore insists. It is not a far leap to consider this as self-defense on the part of Don Giovanni. Donna Anna believes her Father to be another victim of Giovanni, rather than his own outraged honor. She then pressures Don Ottavio to swear vengeance on the nameless attacker. After speaking with Don Giovanni later in Act 1, she claims to know that he is the perpetrator. She has no evidence other than a hunch and reminds an ambivalent Ottavio of his blood oath to seek vengeance.

Donna Anna has undoubtedly been a victim of Don Giovanni, but if we are to believe her words, he was unsuccessful. This doesn’t put aside his intended actions, but it doesn’t mean he attempted to forcibly rape her (He did gain access under false pretenses in the hopes of dishonoring her). This highlights a very important facet of Donna Anna’s personality. She is primarily concerned with her own sense of honor. Donna Anna doesn’t express love or tenderness until Don Ottavio shows his frustration at her lack of reciprocity. She then sings the aria, Non mi dir, which is what Martha Nussbaum claims is Donna Anna’s moment of embracing love. That’s what Anna would lead us to believe. What motivated her to express these sentiments? If Don Ottavio had not been frustrated she would only have sung of vengeance. How can we believe this expression of love when she rebukes Don Ottavio yet again at the end of the opera?

This is where Martha Nussbaum’s hypocrisy is at its height. When Figaro sings of love she overlooks it. When he wishes to foil the Count’s plans, Dr. Nussbaum labels him a part of the male ancient hierarchical regime. Donna Anna talks about nothing, but vengeance, honor, and a bloodthirsty vendetta, yet she is called remarkable for interpolating sentiments of love after repeatedly ignoring her fiancé. Martha Nussbaum, in explaining her tonal shift, says, “Could one not say, however, that Anna, who knew how to be a lady, has now discovered how to be human?” This is another example of Dr. Nussbaum’s hypocrisy with respect to the characters, specifically Count Almaviva. At the end of her opera notes for The Marriage of Figaro, Martha Nussbaum doesn’t describe the Count as becoming human after he publicly apologizes to the Countess. She goes so far as to say that he, being a part of the ancient male regime, would probably stray from his marriage again. What makes her think that Donna Anna will be any different? Donna Anna has shown no real change other than a forced moment which seems dramatically out of context with her character.

Martha Nussbaum shows no sign of backing down as she shifts her case to Donna Elvira. Dr. Nussbaum believes Elvira to be “the opera’s emotional center, since it is through her distress and distraction that we see what this Don is worth”. First of all, the audience doesn’t need Donna Elvira to show the true character of Don Giovanni. The only real insight that is to be revealed, as Edward J. Dent asserts in his book, Mozart’s Operas, A Critical Study, is whether Don Giovanni is a profligate or blasphemer, which we learn early on is the former. More important than this “revelation” is Dr. Nussbaum’s contention that Donna Elvira is the emotional center of the opera. If by emotional center, she means irrational, erratic, and conflicting, then yes; Donna Elvira is the emotional center.

In the plays and operas that precede Mozart’s Don Giovanni, the character of Donna Elvira is treated as a young and inexperienced lady who had either lived in a convent or was seduced away from the convent by Don Giovanni. This does not excuse or justify her lack of common sense when it comes to demanding a longer courtship in order to become more familiar with her suitor. Donna Elvira, like Masetto, demands an answer for being walked out on, but refuses to accept the truth that Don Giovanni never loved her. To be honest, Donna Elvira never really loved him either and her actions do not encompass Martha Nussbaum’s definition of reciprocal love.

Donna Elvira calls Giovanni evil and wishes to make an example of him. In the aria, Ah, chi mi dice, Elvira states her general motivation in simple terms.

“Ah, se ritrovo l’empio e a me non torna ancor, vo’ farne orrendo scempi, gli vo’ cavar il cor!”

“Ah, if I can find the villain and he will not come back to me, I will make a horrible example of him, I will tear out his heart.”

This is the emotional center of Donna Elvira. She thinks the man who she is married to is a villain and a monster…

…AND if he doesn’t come back, THEN she will find him and kill him. Is this reciprocal love? How does this make Donna Elvira “remarkable” and not comic?

After repeated attempts by Don Giovanni telling her to leave him alone, she continues her pursuit in the hopes of “fixing” him, like Luke Skywalker bringing Darth Vader back to the light side. Why does Donna Elvira still profess love for him? Even after learning of his numerous conquests, she becomes more dogged in her aim and how does Martha Nussbaum explain this obvious irrationality?

“It is surely not very satisfactory, however, that the way in which she departs from the revenge mentality and embraces compassion (“pieta”) is through a renewed love for the Don!”

There was never a “renewed love for the Don”. She states her end goal the first moment we are introduced to her. She never deviates from her motivation that is until she learns of his death at the hands of the statue. More comical than Elvira’s final line of the opera is what Dr. Nussbaum says next.

“It would have been nicer, one feels, if she could have found a new love interest- but the plot does not provide one for her. Still, her emotional shift is the focus, and its unsatisfactory object is less important.”

I nearly fell out of my seat at the opera house while reading this. It makes sense why one would want Elvira to find someone better, but that is not the story. For Martha Nussbaum to make Donna Elvira out to be emotionally stable is itself a Donna Elviraean refusal of the truth. Although Elvira is obviously a victim of Giovanni’s trickery, she, as a character, is responsible for her actions subsequent to her abandonment. It’s perfectly understandable that Dr. Nussbaum may be unhappy with the choices of Da Ponte’s or Moliere’s characterization of Donna Elvira but that doesn’t give her authority to project her own desires for a particular dramatic outcome on to the character’s personality. This is just another example of historical revisionism on the part of Martha Nussbaum.

Earlier in her notes, Dr. Nussbaum asserts that Don Ottavio’s aria, Dalla sua pace, which further reveals the character’s sympathetic nature, was not part of Mozart’s original plan because the singer for the Vienna premiere requested a new aria in the place of the virtuosic Il mio tesoro. Near the end of her Don Giovanni opera notes, Miss Nussbaum points out that the aria, Mi tradi was added for the Vienna premiere, but unlike Dalla sua pace, it is part of Mozart’s plan. The reason being, according to Martha Nussbaum, is that the opera is not about Don Giovanni at all. It’s about the emotional journey of Donna Anna, Zerlina, and Donna Elvira. She is more than entitled to this interpretation, but what objective evidence does she have to back up this claim and save herself from looking contradictory?

None.

There are no letters from Mozart or Da Ponte to support this belief, nor is there evidence found in the earlier Don Juan stories. Martha Nussbaum once again projects her own sentiments and interpretation in to Mozart’s music without any proof or musical analysis that may in any way substantiate her claim. Dr. Nussbaum concludes her section on the female characters in Don Giovanni by stating that these three women awaken “to a life that is less exhausted (for revenge is very fatiguing), less strained, more capable of genuine delight and happiness.”

I don’t know which ending Martha Nussbaum heard, but the above description hardly applies. Zerlina and Masetto seem to be the only characters at the end of the opera that will be capable of genuine delight and happiness, as long as Zerlina doesn’t run off with any more aristocrats. Donna Anna again rebukes Don Ottavio’s marriage proposal, Leporello plans on going in to a tavern and finding a new master, and Donna Elvira, in a truly comic moment, declares that she will go find a convent to live out the rest of her days. None of the characters fulfill their dramatic motivations, other than the Commendatore via heavenly powers. In the end they don’t appear to have changed whatsoever. Perhaps the opera is truly about Don Giovanni. Perhaps the ending seems flat to Dr. Nussbaum because the characters of Don Giovanni haven’t turned to love as they did in Le Nozze di Figaro. In the end they seem to lack vitality.

The final ensemble of Don Giovanni is itself the real supporting evidence for the claim that the character of Don Giovanni is indeed the vitality and life force of the opera that drives and motivates all of the supporting characters. Don Giovanni is the only one that truly interacts with every single character. Without him there is no conflict. There is no motivation, no drama, no emotional journey to be heard of. Giovanni’s actions inspire a statue to come to life and seek out retribution, yet Martha Nussbaum spends little energy or time on Don Giovanni other than to misinterpret the character’s music, misrepresent his actions, and belittle anyone who shows interest in this anti-hero.

Before I delve in to Martha Nussbaum’s analysis of Don Giovanni the character, I would like to make a few things very clear. When it comes to viewing Don Giovanni as an individual man, I, in no way whatsoever support, defend, justify, condone, delight in, laugh at, or take pleasure in his actions when it comes to his treatment of women. It is obvious that the character of Don Giovanni the man is a rapist through trickery or deceit. No matter how previous generations of audience goers viewed him during the times they lived in, I do not admire or romanticize misogynistic and or criminal behavior towards women.

Don Giovanni

When it comes to the character of Don Giovanni, there are a few things which Martha Nussbaum and I agree on. Don Giovanni is a horrible and hollow person. He is a scoundrel who uses trickery, deceit, and outright lies under the veil of seduction in order to feed his insatiable carnal appetites. Although he does not discriminate when it comes to the type women he wishes to enrapture, he holds no respect for them individually or collectively. Don Giovanni is in many ways like a vampire feeding of the honor of others. He is the antichrist of order and justice.

This is where Dr. Nussbaum and I diverge on the subject. Throughout her notes on the opera, Dr. Nussbaum repeatedly claims that Don Giovanni has to employ “force” in order to get his way with women. She says that, not only does Don Giovanni lack the characteristics needed to make women fall in love with him, but the only other attributes he has at his disposal (other than force) are wealth and aristocracy. Like most of the other assertions made by Martha Nussbaum, these are misconstrued, misinterpreted, or plain wrong. That’s not to say that Don Giovanni doesn’t use his status in order to execute his plans, but it is obvious that Dr. Nussbaum wishes to strip him of any qualities that female characters may find attractive.

Martha Nussbaum states in the opening paragraphs of her article on Don Giovanni, that Giovanni “uses a combination of class dazzle and sheer force to make his conquests”. On the second page of her notes she responds to the question of Don Giovanni as Eros,

“But can this be correct, when the Don needs force so often to achieve his ends (even with Zerlina initially interested though she is?)”

And again a few paragraphs down Dr. Nussbaum puts forth,

“And lest we try to reply that rape was not viewed in such a negative light in Mozart’s time we should remember that even the not-very-moral Leporello protests, ‘But Donna Anna didn’t ask to be raped.’”

Dr. Nussbaum, while labeling Don Giovanni’s music as “banal, if pleasing” and “manic”, says that he “borrows spurious tenderness in the service of violence to come”, referring to the Act 1 duet, La ci darem la mano.

As previously stated, Don Giovanni is a rapist by trickery and deceit, but there is no definitive proof that he forces or attempts to force any female characters to have sex with him. The character of Don Juan does not attempt to forcibly rape any women in the previous stories. The beginning of the opera basically picks up at the point of Tirso de Molina’s Don Juan, after which Don Juan has attempted to seduce Doña Ana by switching clothes with the man that Ana had invited up to her room for a midnight liaison. At the beginning of the opera, Mozart’s Giovanni is wearing a mask. One could assume that he was attending a masked ball at the Commendatore’s castle and tried to dress as Don Ottavio in disguise (Remember that Don Ottavio gains access to Giovanni’s party alongside Anna and Elvira in a similar manner). Later on in Act 1 Donna Anna describes her bedroom encounter to Ottavio and says that at first she mistook the intruder for Don Ottavio himself. The background of de Molina’s story is not explained in Mozart’s opera, but that lack of detail doesn’t prove that Giovanni was intending or attempting to forcibly rape Donna Anna. It’s understandable that the audience may interpret the dramatic action as an attempted rape, but it’s important to take the previous Don Juan stories in to account without any overriding update by Mozart and Da Ponte.

In fact there are no onstage examples of Don Giovanni attempting to forcibly rape any female characters, with the one possible exception being his behind doors interaction with Zerlina near the end of Act 1. Like his encounter with Donna Anna, we don’t see what actually happens between Don Giovanni and Zerlina, but what are the events preceding it? Giovanni seduces Zerlina while they’re alone which she willingly participates in until Donna Elvira interrupts Giovanni’s plans. Zerlina and Don Giovanni meet up again in his garden. He is unaware that Masetto is hiding in an arbour. At this point Don Giovanni still believes that Zerlina is interested in him and not even the revelation of Masetto spying leads Giovanni to think that Zerlina has changed her mind. They all head in to the castle for dancing and it is then that Giovanni tries to lure Zerlina away in order to “make love to her”. She isn’t dragged from the ballroom kicking and screaming with countless witnesses present. She sings, “O numi! Son tradita!”, translated as “O Gods! I am betrayed!”

Who is she betrayed by? She’s not calling out to anyone. This line is an internal voice to herself. We soon hear her cry out loud for help. Its obvious Zerlina wants nothing to do with Don Giovanni, but once again this doesn’t prove that Giovanni was trying to forcibly rape Zerlina. It is reasonable to think that Giovanni believed Zerlina was still interested in him, but trying to avoid a scene with Masetto he casts the blame on Leporello. Once again, why would Don Giovanni attempt to rape Zerlina with an entire village in his castle to witness? This doesn’t make sense.

Earlier in her notes Dr. Nussbaum claims that Leporello supports her contention when he sings “…Donna Anna didn’t asked to be raped”. Is that a correct translation? Before they make their escape from Donna Anna and Don Ottavio in Act 1, Leporello sings the line,

“Bravo! Due imprese leggiadre! Sforzar la figlia, ed ammazzar il padre!”

“Bravo! Two graceful enterprises! Make an attempt at the daughter, and kill the father.”

Don Giovanni replies,

“L’ha voluto, suo danno”

“That he asked for, his damage (what he wanted).”

Leporello answers,

“Ma Donn’Anna cosa ha voluto?”

“But is that what Donna Anna wanted?”

Nowhere does Leporello literally say that Don Giovanni forcibly raped Donna Anna. This is a matter of misinterpretation on the part of Martha Nussbaum and/or whatever translation she used. The Italian word for rape is ‘stuprare’. That is not found in the libretto of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, nor is there a line stating that Don Giovanni forcibly raped any one. That doesn’t make Giovanni innocent or good and it is entirely understandable that an audience would interpret his actions possibly as forcible rape, but it is not acceptable for Martha Nussbaum to state it as though it is a foregone conclusion.

It should be apparent to anyone who has read through the opera notes written by Martha Nussbaum that she takes a hyper-literal view of the characters and events in both Le Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni. Early on in her Giovanni notes, Dr. Nussbaum comes across as disingenuous in her consideration of “the romantic interpretation” written by “a long line of (male) critics” from the 19^th century. She balks at the viewpoint that Don Giovanni is not so much a man as he is Eros incarnate. She rhetorically asks if this interpretation can “be correct, when the Don needs force so often to achieve his ends?” (An issue already dealt with in the preceding paragraphs of this section). What if we look at Don Giovanni as nothing more than a man?

First off, Don Giovanni is a relatively young person, but let’s say 32 years old. If his servant Leporello has been in his service for 10 years, mostly keeping track of his liaisons, then as the catalogue notes, Don Giovanni has made love to 2,065 different women. That is not counting repeats, as was the case with Donna Elvira with whom he spent 3 nights. If we estimated that Giovanni slept with 206 different women each of those 10 years he would need to seduce a new partner less than every other day. These women don’t all live in the same zip code. Don Giovanni would need to be constantly traveling to different cities. Given his penchant for trickery, he’s more often than not on the run from retribution. Yet, despite his veritable success Donna Anna, Donna Elvira, and Zerlina, who all live within miles of his castle, don’t know him by name. If Don Giovanni were a famous lothario and, according to Martha Nussbaum, a violent serial rapist, how can he be unknown to these three women? Even Valmont from Les Liaisons dangereuses had a reputation that required patience and perseverance in order to achieve his ends.

The ridiculous description in the above paragraph not only makes the story comic, but supports the interpretation of Giovanni as Eros incarnate. Only a person with extraordinary powers of seduction could do this, yet Dr. Nussbaum rejects this subjective view because she misconstrues what these 19^th century male critics are saying. She believes that Kierkegaard and von Hofmannsthal admire and support the actions of Don Giovanni. She thinks they view Don Giovanni as a hero and good for the world which is not true. Don Giovanni is an anti-hero. Audiences love to see the conflict he creates and the ways he may slip out of the fingers of justice the same way that audiences like to watch, Mephistopheles, Professor Moriarty, or The Joker. Without the ‘bad guy’ or antagonist there is no conflict. This is the reason that critics and audiences alike, regardless of their gender, have been drawn to Don Giovanni.

Martha Nussbaum analyses Giovanni’s attractive qualities in a hyper-literal manner as well. She says that he “lacks characteristics that Mozart elsewhere associates with the ability to inspire love in a woman- such as tenderness, humor, playfullness”. This is just another example of how Dr. Nussbaum either misconstrues or misunderstands the multi-faceted definition of ‘love’. Don Giovanni does not inspire ‘love’. He inspires lust. Donna Elvira, in her own words, hates his behavior, yet is drawn to his features. Zerlina hasn’t known him for five minutes and is taken in by his presence as well as his promises. Dr. Nussbaum points to Cherubino (Figaro) as the example of what inspires ‘love’ in women saying,

“Susanna (in Figaro) says of Cherubino, ‘If women love him, they surely have a good reason.’ Could anyone say this with a straight face about the Don?”

I COULD! I COULD! PICK ME!

This quote proves my point that Martha Nussbaum conflates lust with love. It was all too common for people in the 18^th and early 19^th centuries to use the word love with respect to seduction, flirtation, and attraction, not to mention sex. I find it hard to believe that a person with Martha Nussbaum’s intellect and wealth of knowledge would be wrong on such an obvious point. Whether Dr. Nussbaum, or anyone else for that matter, finds Don Giovanni attractive or not is inconsequential. All that matters is that the story dictates that women find him irresistible. It’s not up for debate

The character of Don Giovanni is an enigma given that we receive hardly any insight to his thoughts and the little glimpses we catch don’t reveal anything we don’t already know. Don Giovanni comes across as more of a force than a person. He cannot be reasoned with, he cannot be stopped or caught, and he cannot be intimidated. Giovanni shows no remorse or regret for any of his actions, not even to Leporello whom he needs to assist him. He has no fear of vengeance, retribution, justice, or damnation. Nothing on earth can delay or distract his perseverance for consumption. Only a heavenly being can assume power over Giovanni and contain him.

Gender & Sexuality

It shouldn’t take the reader very long to conclude that Martha Nussbaum comes across as having an obvious preference for the female characters and a disdain for the men. Dr. Nussbaum is clear when she writes,

“If Figaro is the harbinger of a new world, we don’t hear it, since his passions are those of the old.”

She goes on to say,

“If he’s going to be happy in love (and we might add, if the new regime is to be happy in reciprocity), he will have to learn a different tune- and, as Mozart soon shows, he will need to learn it from women.”

To Dr. Nussbaum, all of the male characters within the operas of Le Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni are a part of the “old regime” of masculine hierarchy that keep the world corrupted unless they learn reciprocal love from the revolutionary regime of women.

Dr. Nussbaum characterizes the three ladies in Don Giovanni as “remarkable”, but says little of Don Ottavio who, despite his lack of excitement, is the only true voice of reason throughout the entire opera. Dr. Nussbaum gives him little credit even though his motivations and actions align with her description of the new regime. She dismisses the aria Dalla sua pace because it is not in the original Prague premier, yet attempts to explain away the addition of the aria Mi tradi because she deems “the opera’s overall plan appears to require the addition.”

She passes over the faults of the female characters going so far as to leave out or change facts. Donna Anna learns to become a woman, yet pursues vengeance and refuses to change at the end of the opera. Donna Elvira, the emotional center of the opera, is manic and contradictory, yet according to Martha Nussbaum she experiences reciprocal love. Zerlina is tender and loving despite walking out on her betrothed on their wedding day for a rich and handsome man. Dr. Nussbaum also leaves out a scene from the Vienna premier (rarely performed) in which Zerlina ties up Leporello and threatens to kill him with a blade if he tries to flee. Zerlina sings, “This is how it is done with men”, while Leporello is bound and blindfolded as if it were a scene from the movie, Reservoir Dogs.

Dr. Nussbaum would have you believe that Susanna and the Countess are the best of friends despite the obvious fact that the Countess repeatedly orders Susanna around. Dr. Nussbaum dismisses this by claiming that the music is a “subversive rereading”. But how can that be when even Mozart felt an importance of class separation and hierarchy? Nicholas Till writes of an anecdote in his book, Mozart and the Enlightenment: Truth, Virtue and Beauty in Mozart’s Opera, of Mozart witnessing “the effects of such enforced egalitarianism” when in 1781, Mozart attended the Schönbrunn ball given by Emperor Joseph II. Describing the scene in a letter to his father, Mozart writes, “…the ball was full of Friseurs and housemaids”. Mozart goes on to describe an amusing scene when “the Viennese mob, who are never particularly civil,” forced and shoved the Grand Duchess of Russia trying to get on to the dance floor. In his letter, Mozart writes admonishingly of Emperor Joseph, “All I can say is that it serves him right. For what else can you expect from a mob?”

Dr. Nussbaum calls the teenaged page, Cherubino, the pivotal character of Le Nozze di Figaro.

“…a male who can be both delightful and loving, a harbinger of new possibilities for men and women.”

Martha Nussbaum states the fact that Cherubino being sung by a mezzo-soprano “…already seems significant”. Dr. Nussbaum believes the character of Cherubino to be imbued with tenderness and loving reciprocity which she equates with women and later suggests that it will be men who corrupt him with their ego and shame. Dr. Nussbaum takes her view of how loving relations between the sexes should be and chastises Romantic male critics in an ad hominem attack saying,

“Perhaps the idea of boundless sexual energy without love or tenderness has appeal for man of a certain age…”

Not only is this an overgeneralization of men, but it is disingenuous not to mention some of the many female libertines of 18^th century Europe like Ninnon de Laclos, Mesdames de Pompadour, du Deffand, and de Staël and of course Catherine the Great, who ironically had a fictional affair with Byron’s Don Juan in his epic poem. These women not only enjoyed sexual freedom, but used their influence derived from Salons, romantic liaisons, and outright power to support intellectual pursuits of the time. Madame Vigeé-Lebrun, court painter to Marie Antoinette, speaking of the ancient regime said,

“Women ruled then…the revolution has dethroned them.”

Martha Nussbaum makes it clear to the reader that she believes Mozart composed with a hidden motive that was intended to lead men out of the darkness of their own corrupted world through the voices of feminism. She speaks for Mozart, like the oracles at Delphi, telling us that the new world will be one based on reciprocal love that can only be taught by women who, despite any faults of their own, are the keepers of that knowledge. Dr. Nussbaum tells us that all men who have not learned reciprocal love from women are all basically the same. They are all competitive, ego-ridden, shame averse, domineering, self-centered, pleasure seekers intent on keeping women under their boot.

It is perfectly within her right to express her thoughts and interpretations on whatever subject she wishes to discuss and I support and applaud that desire. However, I would prefer it to be a discussion that is based on research, erudition, and revision which ultimately leads us to a hypothesis, rather than one that is used as a personal soap box. Most disconcerting of all was the disclaimer at the end of Dr. Nussbaum’s opera notes for Le Nozze di Figaro.

“Also in 2016, she [Martha Nussbaum] will be teaching a course on opera with Anthony Freud at the University of Chicago.”

Perhaps the fact that General Director of the Lyric, Anthony Freud, considers Dr. Nussbaum to be qualified to teach a course on opera is indicative of the direction the Lyric is headed. I agree with Martha Nussbaum’s sentiment of “Life together in society requires something like an unjaundiced trust in the possibility of love…and, perhaps above all, a sense of humor about the world as it is”, but from whose vantage point is this said? Is it enough to end an unbalanced barrage of attacks with what appears to be an olive branch?