Opera I Due Foscari Program Notes, Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

A Dark Turn After Triumph

Fresh off the sensational, revolutionary success of Ernani in Venice, Giuseppe Verdi was eager to secure his next commission. He wanted something different. If Ernani was a work of romantic, swashbuckling energy, his next opera would be its opposite: an intense, claustrophobic, and internal tragedy. His librettist for Ernani, Francesco Maria Piave, was a native Venetian, and he suggested a subject perfectly suited to this dark mood: Lord Byron’s historical play, The Two Foscari. Verdi seized it. He was so enthusiastic, in fact, that he and Piave prepared the opera without a specific commission, a testament to his belief in the subject. He wrote to Piave, The subject seems to me very beautiful, melancholy, and... with a Venetian tint. This "Venetian tint" would become the opera’s defining feature, a palette of dark grey, oppressive gloom, and the mournful sound of water lapping against prison walls.

The "Static" Drama of Lord Byron

Lord Byron’s 1821 play, The Two Foscari, was a "closet drama," a play intended to be read rather than staged. It is famously static, with very little external action. Its drama is entirely psychological, focusing on the internal agony of its three main characters, who are trapped in an inescapable political and emotional web. This lack of action, which many critics saw as a weakness, is precisely what attracted Verdi. He saw it as an opportunity to create a new kind of musical drama, one where the music itself would supply the "action" and drive the psychological narrative. He wanted to explore the internal states of his characters, and I due Foscari became his first great experiment in deep, character-focused tragedy.

A Groundbreaking Use of "Reminiscence Motives"

I due Foscari is, without question, one of Verdi’s most structurally important early works. It is the first opera in which he systematically uses what we now call "reminiscence motives" (or motivi di reminiscenza). This is a step beyond the simple "recollection" tunes of Donizetti or Bellini. Here, Verdi assigns specific, recurring musical themes to each of the main characters and central concepts. There is a theme for Jacopo’s lament, a fiery theme for Lucrezia’s defiance, a noble, sorrowful theme for the Doge's grief, and a dark, stark theme for the implacable Council of Ten. These themes return throughout the opera, weaving a complex web of memory and premonition. When the Doge is alone, we hear his son’s "lament" theme in the orchestra, showing us what he is thinking. This technique, a precursor to the leitmotifs of Richard Wagner, gives the opera a powerful, forward-looking psychological unity and a somber, obsessive quality.

Francesco Foscari: The First Great Baritone Father

The opera’s tragic center is Francesco Foscari, the Doge of Venice. This role is the first in Verdi's unparalleled gallery of tragic baritone fathers, a line that will lead directly to Rigoletto, Giorgio Germont, and Simon Boccanegra. Francesco is a man torn between two irreconcilable identities: il padre (the father) and il principe (the prince). His duty to the merciless Venetian state, which he embodies, forces him to repeatedly condemn his own, beloved son. His music is defined by a profound, noble, and weary sorrow. His great aria in Act I, O vecchio cor, che batti (O old heart, that beats), is a masterpiece of psychological portraiture, a lament for his lost sons and his own trapped existence. He is Verdi's first great musical portrait of a powerful man made powerless by circumstance.

Lucrezia Contarini: The "Warrior Soprano"

If the Doge and his son are defined by passive suffering, Jacopo's wife, Lucrezia, is a figure of pure, active fire. She is the opera’s only force of defiance. She is a classic "warrior soprano" of early Verdi, a sister to Abigaille from Nabucco. She refuses to accept the political realities and literally storms the Doge's chambers and the Council's hall to plead, demand, and accuse. Her music is fearsome, characterized by large vocal leaps, driving rhythms, and explosive, fiery cabalettas. Her entrance aria, Tu al cui sguardo... Sento, oimè, is a perfect example of the "double-aria" form, moving from a prayerful, anguished cantabile to a furious cabaletta of vengeance. She is the musical and dramatic opposite of the male characters, a streak of scarlet against the opera's dark grey canvas.

Jacopo Foscari: The Lyrical Victim

The tenor role of Jacopo Foscari is a unique one for Verdi. He is not a heroic lover (like Ernani) or a defiant warrior. He is a pure victim. His only "action" is to suffer and to sing of his suffering. He has been exiled, and his only wish is to see Venice again, even as a prisoner. His music is defined by a deep, lyrical melancholy. The opera opens with him alone in the state prison, singing his exquisite romanza, Dal più remoto esilio (From the most remote exile). This melody, which becomes his "reminiscence motive," is one of the opera's most beautiful and haunting tunes. His passivity is the engine of the plot, the still point around which the other characters rage.

The Council of Ten: The True Villain

The opera’s antagonist is not a single person. It is an institution: the Venetian Council of Ten. This shadowy, faceless tribunal is the embodiment of the opera’s "force of destiny". Their chief, Loredano, is a "comprimario" bass role, but his implacable, cold cruelty represents the entire Council. Verdi gives the Council a distinct musical identity: stark, heavy, unison male choruses, often sung offstage, that sound like a death sentence. This faceless, institutional evil is far more terrifying than a single, melodramatic villain.

The Venetian Tinta

The opera’s greatest achievement is its atmosphere. Verdi creates his "Venetian tint" with a dark, heavy orchestration, favoring clarinets, bassoons, and low strings. The entire opera is suffused with a sense of gloom and claustrophobia. Even the opera's one moment of "lightness" is deeply ironic. In the final act, we hear an offstage barcarolle (a Venetian boat song) as the people celebrate a regatta. This simple, folk-like tune, floating over the prison where Jacopo is about to be exiled for the last time, is a masterstroke of dramatic irony. It is the sound of the indifferent, everyday city, a city that parties while its noblest citizens are destroyed from within. This is a technique Verdi would use again with La donna è mobile in Rigoletto.

A Flawed but Vital Masterpiece

I due Foscari was a solid success at its premiere but never achieved the wild popularity of Ernani or Nabucco. Its primary criticism has always been that it is too gloomy, too static, and too relentlessly one-note in its sadness. This is a fair critique, but it also misses the point. The opera is meant to be claustrophobic. It is a psychological study of characters who are trapped, and its static, obsessive nature is its greatest strength. For Verdi, it was a crucial step forward, a workshop where he forged the tools of musical-psychological drama—the recurring themes, the baritone father, the warrior soprano—that would serve him for the rest of his career. It is a dark, powerful, and essential piece of the Verdi puzzle.

Opera Story

Act I The opera opens in a hall of the Doge's Palace in Venice. The Council of Ten is meeting to decide the fate of Jacopo Foscari, the Doge's last surviving son, who has been recalled from exile and accused of a new crime. They exit, and Jacopo is led from his prison cell. He sings of his profound love for Venice, even as it imprisons him (Dal più remoto esilio).

Lucrezia, Jacopo's wife, enters, desperate to see her husband. She learns that the Council has found him guilty and is outraged. In her aria, she vows to plead for him with his unyielding father, the Doge.

In the Doge's private apartments, Francesco Foscari laments his fate. He is tormented by his duty as Doge, which forces him to be a judge, not a father, to his own son (O vecchio cor, che batti). Lucrezia bursts in and begs him to use his power to save Jacopo. Francesco replies that he cannot; the law of Venice is absolute. He is the Prince, and his paternal love must be silent.

Act II Jacopo is alone in his dark prison cell. He is delirious from his torture and has a terrifying vision of Carmagnola, a Venetian general executed by the state. Lucrezia arrives, and they share a heartbreaking duet. She tells him the Council's verdict: he is not to be executed but exiled for life. Jacopo is in despair; he would rather die in Venice than live, banished forever.

The Doge, Francesco Foscari, enters, finally allowing himself to act as a father. This leads to the opera's great trio, as Jacopo begs for his father's help, Lucrezia expresses her rage, and the Doge laments his powerlessness. Loredano, the Doge's enemy and a leader of the Council, arrives to deliver the official sentence. He coldly informs Jacopo that he must leave for Crete immediately, and that his wife and children may not accompany him. Lucrezia faints.

Act III The scene opens on the Piazetta di San Marco. A regatta is in progress, and the people sing a joyous barcarolle. The music turns grim as the state galley arrives. Jacopo Foscari is led out in chains. He says a last, agonizing farewell to Lucrezia and their children. Loredano hurries him onto the ship. As the ship departs, Lucrezia faints once more.

Back in the Doge's apartments, Francesco Foscari is broken with grief. Loredano enters with another member of the Council. They inform the Doge that a dying man has just confessed to the very murder for which Jacopo was exiled. Jacopo is innocent. Just as the Doge cries out in relief, Lucrezia enters, frantic, holding a letter. It is not a pardon; it is a letter informing her that Jacopo died from grief and stress just as his ship set sail.

As the Doge collapses in sorrow, Loredano and the Council return. They tell Francesco Foscari that his grief has rendered him unfit to rule and demand his abdication. He refuses, but they strip him of his ducal ring and robes. As they are about to crown his successor, the great bell of St. Mark's tolls, announcing the new Doge. Each toll of the bell is like a blow to Francesco's heart. He cries out, and, his heart broken by the loss of his son and his honor, he falls dead. Loredano, standing over his body, coldly proclaims, He is paid.