Italian operas for much of the nineteenth century were mercurial, constantly evolving entities. They were often written hastily. Indeed, they were usually orchestrated during their very brief rehearsal periods. As Gossett points out, composers were contractually obliged to attend the first three performances of a new opera in order to make changes and corrections as necessary. Typically, composers knew the singers they were writing for and were therefore mindful of individual voices – ranges, weaknesses, strengths, unique properties – when fashioning their scores.

Composers had to be remarkably adaptable. An aria originally written in one key might have to be transposed in order to sit more comfortably for a particular voice. Gossett provides a fascinating account of last minute changes to ‘Casta Diva’, the most famous aria from Bellini’s Norma (1831). Bellini wrote the aria in G major, but it was transposed down a tone into F major for its first performance, possibly out of consideration for Giuditta Pasta, diva of the day and creator of the title role. Trouble is, the transition into F is woefully handled. There is no evidence that it is the work of Bellini, even though this is the version that has come down to us. Listen to any of the famous recordings of ‘Casta Diva’ and you will hear the clunky tonal shift between the recitative and the start of the aria proper.

But not only were keys changed: crucial aspects of plot were sometimes altered in deference to the market. The composer was most definitely not king. Rossini’s Otello received its première in Naples in 1816, but when it was revived in Rome in 1820, the theatre manager insisted upon a happy ending. Rossini complied. Censors, too, played a crucial role in fashioning (and often distorting) operas of the period. As Gossett explains, when Donizetti’s French opera La favorite (1840) appeared in its Italian version as La favorita, the censor encumbered it with such bizarre plot-altering transformations it was rendered nonsensical. La favorita is the kind of work that gives opera a bad name, but neither Donizetti nor librettists Royer and Vaëz can be held responsible for its absurdities. Verdi made no secret of his frustration with censors’ demands, and Gossett offers a detailed chronicle of the complex genesis of Un ballo in maschera (1859). As is generally well known, the opera was originally to be set in Sweden (as Gustavo III) but was moved to Boston by order of the censor because of its highly charged political content. Less well known is that, between the fragmentary Gustavo III and complete Un ballo in maschera, Verdi and librettist Somma fashioned an interim version of the opera, Una vendetta in dominò, set in a middle-European duchy. Gossett’s final chapter includes a lengthy discussion of his involvement in the reconstruction of Gustavo III for performance in Gothenburg in 2002, as pieced together from Una vendetta in dominò and Un ballo in maschera.

Given the above, it is surprising that Gossett should contend that Italian opera composers of the nineteenth century believed that they were the authors of closed, structurally unified compositions that carried the full weight of fixed, autonomous objects. He rejects the late Carl Dahlhaus’s view that nineteenth-century Italian operas were not ‘works’ in the strong sense but compositions that shifted shape according to the circumstances of their performance. Granted, this is a position that becomes difficult to defend once we arrive at middle-to-late-period Verdi, but I should imagine rather easy to sustain in the case of Rossini and Donizetti and, to a lesser extent, Bellini. Indeed, it is strange that Gossett should take conductor Riccardo Muti to task for once making the comment that he intended to perform Verdi’s Ernani (1844) ‘exactly as it was conceived’. ‘How do we know how a work was conceived? We cannot ask Verdi how he conceived Ernani’, Gossett writes reproachfully – when Gossett himself makes liberal use of precisely the same phrase when referring to his own work as an editor.

This quibble aside, Divas and Scholars is a fine achievement. Gossett is not afraid to ‘name and shame’ when it comes to artistic abuses by famous singers and conductors, and while there are a few passages that readers unfamiliar with music theory will find slightly too technical, the book is both a first-rate piece of scholarship and an engaging and entertaining read. That in itself is quite a feat. Bravo!