1. Artists emphasize emotional subjectivity, imagination. There is a desire to break the bonds of convention and release their imagination and creative spirit. Artists long for such unnatainable absolutes as perfect love, truth, exquisite beauty.
2. The arts express longings that can never be satisfied and therefore cause suffering.
3. Romantic Opera heroines suffer grandly.
The story of Andrea Chenier, an opera with music by Giordano is set during the French Revolution, when aristocrats were hunted out and murdered. Maddalena, a beautiful young aristocrat sings of her mothers horrible death in the aria La Mama Morta. 1st performance 1896
3. An aria is an elaborate composition for solo voice with orchestral accompaniment.
a la porta della stanza mia;
moriva e mi salvava!
Poi a notte alta
Op com Bersi errava,
Quando ad un tratto
Un livido bagliore guizza
E rischiara innanzi a' passi miei La cupa via.
Guardo! Bruciava illoco
Di mia culla
Cosi fui sola.
E intorno il nulla! Fame e miseria!
II bisogno, il periglio!
Caddi malata.
at the door of my room;
She died and saved me!
then, in darkest night,
I wandered with Bersi
when all of a sudden
a reddish glow flickers
and sheds light ahead of my steps on the dark path.
I look! My birthplace
was burning down.
Thus I was alone.
And around me, the void! Hunger and misery!
Need and danger!
I fell ill.
bartered off her beauty,
a deal for my sake.
I bring misfortune to who wish me well!
It was in that time of grief
that Love came to me,
a voice full of harmony saying:
"Go on living! 1 am Life!
In my eyes lies your heaven!
You are not alone!
I gather your tears,
I stand on your way
Smile and hope!
I am love!
Everything around is blood and mire?
I am divine!
I am oblivion!
I am the God
who descends on earth
from the firmament,
[and]turns the earth into heaven. Ah!
I am Love, I am love!
And the Angel approaches
kisses me, and it is the kiss of death.
The body of a moribund is what my body is.
Take it then! .
I am already a dead thing.
Di sua bellezza ha fatto
Un mercato, un contratto per me.
Porto sventura a chi bene mi vuole!
Fu in quel dolore
che a me venne I'amor,
Voce piene a d'armonia e dice:
"Vivi ancora io son la vita!
Ne' miei occho e iI tuo cielo!
Tu non sei sola!
Le lagrime tue io Ie raccolgo,
Io sto sui tuo cammino
Sorridi e spera!
Io son I'amore!
Tutto intormo e sangue e fango?
Io son divino!
Io son I'obblio!
Io son il dio
che sovra il mondo
scende da I'empireo,
fa della terra un ciel! Ah!
Io son I'amore, io son I'amor!
E I'angelo si acosta,
Bacia, e vi bacia la morte.
Corpo di moribunda e il corpo mio!
Prendilo dunque!
Io son gia morta cosa.
