Cremona - Mozart - 1770

Mozart at the Teatro Ponchielli of Cremona

In the winter of 1770, during the first of their great Italian journeys, Leopold Mozart and his extraordinary son Wolfgang Amadeus arrived in the city of Cremona. Wolfgang was not yet fourteen years old, and yet his reputation as a prodigy had already preceded him across Europe. Italy, the heart of opera and instrumental excellence, represented both a challenge and an inspiration for the young composer, and Cremona would become one of the most meaningful stops along this formative journey.

The Teatro Ponchielli and Its Legacy

The Teatro Ponchielli, known in Mozart’s time as the Teatro Nazari, stood as one of the most important cultural centers of Cremona. Though the building would later be rebuilt and renamed in honor of the composer Amilcare Ponchielli, its eighteenth-century incarnation already possessed a distinguished musical life. The theater was admired for its acoustics, its orchestra, and the quality of its performances—elements that deeply impressed visiting musicians.

For a young composer like Mozart, still absorbing the musical language of Italy, the theater offered not only entertainment but education. Hearing an opera performed by a professional orchestra and singers in such a refined space was an experience capable of shaping artistic imagination forever.

Cremona: A City of Sound and Crossroads

Cremona itself held a unique position in the musical geography of Europe. Situated at a crossroads of northern Italy, the city was famous not only for its strategic importance but also for its unparalleled tradition of violin making. The legacy of masters such as Antonio Stradivari, Guarneri, and Amati had made Cremona synonymous with excellence in sound.

For Mozart, whose ear was famously precise and sensitive, Cremona must have felt like a city that breathed music. Its culture, craftsmanship, and musical refinement formed the perfect backdrop for a young genius eager to learn from everything he encountered.

An Evening at the Opera: La clemenza di Tito

On Saturday, 20 January 1770, Leopold and Wolfgang Mozart arrived in Cremona from Bozzolo and lodged at the Colombina Inn. That same evening, they attended a performance of La clemenza di Tito at the Teatro Nazari. The opera, based on a libretto by Pietro Metastasio, was one of the most celebrated texts of the eighteenth century and had been set to music by numerous composers.

The version Mozart heard was by Johann Adolf Hasse, one of the most famous opera composers of the late Baroque and Rococo periods. Hasse, a German composer who had achieved immense success in Italy, was admired for his lyrical elegance, expressive arias, and masterful treatment of the human voice. His music represented the pinnacle of the Italian operatic style that Mozart was studying so intently.

Hasse and the Young Mozart

Hasse was no ordinary composer in Mozart’s world; he was a towering figure whose operas dominated European stages. His La clemenza di Tito embodied the ideals of opera seria: moral nobility, emotional restraint, and melodic beauty. For a thirteen-year-old Mozart, already composing symphonies and operas of his own, this performance was both a revelation and a confirmation of his own aspirations.

Leopold Mozart noted with satisfaction that both father and son found the Cremonese orchestra excellent, writing that “the orchestra in Cremona is very good.” One can easily imagine Wolfgang’s excitement as he listened to the refined interplay of voices and instruments, absorbing the dramatic power of live opera in a theater renowned for its sound.

A Genius Recognized

Only a year later, in 1771, Hasse would compose his final opera, Ruggiero, for the wedding celebrations of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria in Milan. On that same occasion, a serenata by a fifteen-year-old Mozart, Ascanio in Alba, was performed. Deeply impressed by the young composer’s talent, Hasse famously declared:

“This boy will make us all be forgotten.”

(Dieser Knabe wird uns alle vergessen machen.)

It was a prophetic statement. The admiration of a master such as Hasse confirmed what many were beginning to understand: Mozart was not merely a prodigy, but a genius whose music would transcend generations.

A Lasting Impression

The evening at the Teatro Nazari in Cremona was more than a single performance; it was a moment of artistic awakening. For Mozart, still a child yet already a master, the experience of hearing Hasse’s opera in such a refined musical environment left a lasting impression. It strengthened his love for Italian opera, deepened his understanding of orchestral color, and fueled his creative imagination.

Today, as we reflect on Mozart’s journey through Italy, his visit to Cremona and its historic theater stands as a powerful symbol of how place, tradition, and youthful genius can converge. In that theater, surrounded by music and history, a thirteen-year-old boy listened, learned, and dreamed—and in doing so, quietly shaped the future of Western music.

Mozart au Teatro Ponchielli de Crémone

Durant l'hiver 1770, lors du premier de leurs grands voyages en Italie, Leopold Mozart et son fils prodige, Wolfgang Amadeus, arrivèrent à Crémone. Wolfgang n'avait pas encore quatorze ans, et pourtant sa réputation d'enfant prodige l'avait déjà précédé à travers l'Europe. L'Italie, berceau de l'opéra et de l'excellence instrumentale, représentait à la fois un défi et une source d'inspiration pour le jeune compositeur, et Crémone allait devenir l'une des étapes les plus marquantes de ce voyage formateur.

Le Teatro Ponchielli et son héritage

Le Teatro Ponchielli, connu du temps de Mozart sous le nom de Teatro Nazari, était l'un des centres culturels les plus importants de Crémone. Bien que le bâtiment ait été reconstruit plus tard et rebaptisé en l'honneur du compositeur Amilcare Ponchielli, sa version du XVIIIe siècle possédait déjà une vie musicale remarquable. Le théâtre était admiré pour son acoustique, son orchestre et la qualité de ses représentations – des atouts qui impressionnaient profondément les musiciens de passage.

Pour un jeune compositeur comme Mozart, encore imprégné du langage musical italien, le théâtre offrait non seulement un divertissement, mais aussi une véritable formation. Entendre un opéra interprété par un orchestre et des chanteurs professionnels dans un lieu aussi raffiné était une expérience capable de marquer à jamais son imagination artistique.

Crémone : Ville de musique et carrefour

Crémone occupait une place unique dans la géographie musicale européenne. Située au carrefour de l’Italie du Nord, la ville était célèbre non seulement pour son importance stratégique, mais aussi pour son incomparable tradition de lutherie. L’héritage de maîtres tels qu’Antonio Stradivari, Guarneri et Amati avait fait de Crémone un synonyme d’excellence sonore.

Pour Mozart, dont l’oreille était réputée pour sa précision et sa sensibilité, Crémone devait être une ville où la musique respirait. Sa culture, son artisanat et son raffinement musical offraient un cadre idéal à un jeune génie avide d’apprendre de tout ce qu’il rencontrait.

Une soirée à l'opéra : La clemenza di Tito

Le samedi 20 janvier 1770, Léopold et Wolfgang Mozart arrivèrent à Crémone en provenance de Bozzolo et s'installèrent à l'auberge Colombina. Le soir même, ils assistèrent à une représentation de La clemenza di Tito au Teatro Nazari. Cet opéra, sur un livret de Pietro Metastasio, était l'un des textes les plus célèbres du XVIIIe siècle et avait été mis en musique par de nombreux compositeurs.

La version que Mozart entendit était celle de Johann Adolf Hasse, l'un des compositeurs d'opéra les plus renommés de la fin du baroque et du rococo. Hasse, compositeur allemand ayant connu un immense succès en Italie, était admiré pour son élégance lyrique, ses arias expressives et sa maîtrise de la voix. Sa musique représentait l'apogée du style lyrique italien que Mozart étudiait avec tant d'attention.

Hasse et le jeune Mozart

Hasse n'était pas un compositeur ordinaire dans l'univers de Mozart ; Il était une figure emblématique dont les opéras dominaient les scènes européennes. Son opéra *La clemenza di Tito* incarnait les idéaux de l'opera seria : noblesse morale, retenue émotionnelle et beauté mélodique. Pour Mozart, alors âgé de treize ans et composant déjà ses propres symphonies et opéras, cette représentation fut à la fois une révélation et une confirmation de ses aspirations.

Leopold Mozart nota avec satisfaction que le père et le fils avaient tous deux trouvé l'orchestre de Crémone excellent, écrivant : « L'orchestre de Crémone est très bon.» On imagine aisément l'enthousiasme de Wolfgang écoutant le jeu raffiné des voix et des instruments, s'imprégnant de la puissance dramatique de l'opéra en direct dans un théâtre réputé pour son acoustique.

Un génie reconnu

Un an plus tard seulement, en 1771, Hasse composa son dernier opéra, *Ruggiero*, pour les festivités du mariage de l'archiduc Ferdinand d'Autriche à Milan. À cette même occasion, une sérénade de Mozart, alors âgé de quinze ans, *Ascanio in Alba*, fut jouée. Profondément impressionné par le talent du jeune compositeur, Hasse déclara :

« Ce garçon nous fera tous tomber dans l'oubli. »

(Dieser Knabe wird uns alle vergessen machen.)

C'était une déclaration prophétique. L'admiration d'un maître tel que Hasse confirmait ce que beaucoup commençaient à comprendre : Mozart n'était pas seulement un prodige, mais un génie dont la musique traverserait les générations.

Une impression durable

La soirée au Teatro Nazari de Crémone fut bien plus qu'une simple représentation ; ce fut un moment d'éveil artistique. Pour Mozart, encore enfant mais déjà maître, l'expérience d'entendre l'opéra de Hasse dans un cadre musical aussi raffiné laissa une empreinte indélébile. Elle renforça son amour pour l'opéra italien, approfondit sa compréhension des couleurs orchestrales et stimula son imagination créatrice.

Aujourd'hui, alors que nous nous remémorons le parcours de Mozart en Italie, sa visite à Crémone et à son théâtre historique demeure un symbole puissant de la façon dont un lieu, une tradition et un génie précoce peuvent se rencontrer. Dans ce théâtre, bercé par la musique et l'histoire, un garçon de treize ans écoutait, apprenait et rêvait – et ce faisant, il façonnait discrètement l'avenir.

Mozart al Teatro Ponchielli di Cremona

Nell'inverno del 1770, durante il primo dei loro grandi viaggi in Italia, Leopold Mozart e il suo straordinario figlio Wolfgang Amadeus giunsero nella città di Cremona. Wolfgang non aveva ancora quattordici anni, eppure la sua fama di prodigio lo aveva già preceduto in tutta Europa. L'Italia, cuore dell'opera e dell'eccellenza strumentale, rappresentò sia una sfida che un'ispirazione per il giovane compositore, e Cremona sarebbe diventata una delle tappe più significative di questo percorso formativo.

Il Teatro Ponchielli e la sua eredità

Il Teatro Ponchielli, noto ai tempi di Mozart come Teatro Nazari, era uno dei centri culturali più importanti di Cremona. Sebbene l'edificio fosse stato successivamente ricostruito e ribattezzato in onore del compositore Amilcare Ponchielli, la sua versione settecentesca vantava già una vita musicale di tutto rispetto. Il teatro era ammirato per la sua acustica, la sua orchestra e la qualità delle sue esibizioni, elementi che impressionavano profondamente i musicisti ospiti.

Per un giovane compositore come Mozart, ancora alle prese con il linguaggio musicale italiano, il teatro non offriva solo intrattenimento, ma anche formazione. Ascoltare un'opera eseguita da un'orchestra e da cantanti professionisti in uno spazio così raffinato era un'esperienza capace di plasmare per sempre l'immaginario artistico.

Cremona: una città di suoni e di crocevia

Cremona stessa occupava una posizione unica nella geografia musicale d'Europa. Situata al crocevia dell'Italia settentrionale, la città era famosa non solo per la sua importanza strategica, ma anche per la sua ineguagliabile tradizione liutaria. L'eredità di maestri come Antonio Stradivari, Guarneri e Amati aveva reso Cremona sinonimo di eccellenza nel suono.

Per Mozart, il cui orecchio era notoriamente preciso e sensibile, Cremona doveva essere una città che respirava musica. La sua cultura, la sua maestria artigianale e la sua raffinatezza musicale costituivano lo sfondo perfetto per un giovane genio desideroso di imparare da tutto ciò che incontrava.

Una serata all'opera: La clemenza di Tito

Sabato 20 gennaio 1770, Leopold e Wolfgang Mozart arrivarono a Cremona da Bozzolo e alloggiarono alla Locanda Colombina. Quella stessa sera, assistettero a una rappresentazione de La clemenza di Tito al Teatro Nazari. L'opera, basata su un libretto di Pietro Metastasio, fu uno dei testi più celebri del XVIII secolo e fu musicata da numerosi compositori.

La versione che Mozart ascoltò era di Johann Adolf Hasse, uno dei più famosi compositori d'opera del tardo barocco e del rococò. Hasse, compositore tedesco che aveva ottenuto un immenso successo in Italia, era ammirato per la sua eleganza lirica, le arie espressive e il magistrale trattamento della voce umana. La sua musica rappresentava l'apice dello stile operistico italiano che Mozart stava studiando con tanta attenzione.

Hasse e il giovane Mozart

Hasse non era un compositore qualunque nel mondo di Mozart; era una figura imponente le cui opere dominavano i palcoscenici europei. La sua Clemenza di Tito incarnava gli ideali dell'opera seria: nobiltà morale, compostezza emotiva e bellezza melodica. Per un Mozart tredicenne, già impegnato nella composizione di sinfonie e opere proprie, questa esecuzione fu al tempo stesso una rivelazione e una conferma delle proprie aspirazioni.

Leopold Mozart notò con soddisfazione che padre e figlio trovavano eccellente l'orchestra cremonese, scrivendo che "l'orchestra di Cremona è molto buona". Si può facilmente immaginare l'entusiasmo di Wolfgang nell'ascoltare la raffinata interazione di voci e strumenti, assorbendo la potenza drammatica dell'opera dal vivo in un teatro rinomato per la sua sonorità.

Un genio riconosciuto

Solo un anno dopo, nel 1771, Hasse avrebbe composto la sua ultima opera, Ruggiero, per le celebrazioni nuziali dell'arciduca Ferdinando d'Austria a Milano. Nella stessa occasione, fu eseguita una serenata di un Mozart quindicenne, Ascanio in Alba. Profondamente colpito dal talento del giovane compositore, Hasse dichiarò:

"Questo ragazzo ci farà dimenticare tutti".

(Dieser Knabe wird uns all vergessen machen.)

Fu un'affermazione profetica. L'ammirazione di un maestro come Hasse confermò ciò che molti stavano iniziando a capire: Mozart non era semplicemente un prodigio, ma un genio la cui musica avrebbe trasceso le generazioni.

Un'impressione duratura

La serata al Teatro Nazari di Cremona fu più di una singola esibizione: fu un momento di risveglio artistico. Per Mozart, ancora bambino ma già maestro, l'esperienza di ascoltare l'opera di Hasse in un ambiente musicale così raffinato lasciò un'impressione duratura. Rafforzò il suo amore per l'opera italiana, approfondì la sua comprensione del colore orchestrale e alimentò la sua immaginazione creativa.

Oggi, mentre riflettiamo sul viaggio di Mozart in Italia, la sua visita a Cremona e al suo storico teatro rappresenta un potente simbolo di come luogo, tradizione e genio giovanile possano convergere. In quel teatro, circondato dalla musica e dalla storia, un ragazzo di tredici anni ascoltava, imparava e sognava e, così facendo, plasmava silenziosamente il futuro.

Mozart en el Teatro Ponchielli de Cremona

En el invierno de 1770, durante el primero de sus grandes viajes por Italia, Leopold Mozart y su extraordinario hijo Wolfgang Amadeus llegaron a la ciudad de Cremona. Wolfgang aún no tenía catorce años, y sin embargo, su fama de prodigio ya lo precedía por toda Europa. Italia, cuna de la ópera y la excelencia instrumental, representó tanto un reto como una inspiración para el joven compositor, y Cremona se convertiría en una de las paradas más significativas de su trayectoria formativa.

El Teatro Ponchielli y su legado

El Teatro Ponchielli, conocido en la época de Mozart como el Teatro Nazari, se erigió como uno de los centros culturales más importantes de Cremona. Aunque el edificio sería posteriormente reconstruido y rebautizado en honor al compositor Amilcare Ponchielli, su versión del siglo XVIII ya contaba con una distinguida vida musical. El teatro era admirado por su acústica, su orquesta y la calidad de sus interpretaciones, elementos que impresionaban profundamente a los músicos visitantes.

Para un joven compositor como Mozart, que aún asimilaba el lenguaje musical italiano, el teatro ofrecía no solo entretenimiento, sino también educación. Escuchar una ópera interpretada por una orquesta y cantantes profesionales en un espacio tan refinado era una experiencia capaz de moldear la imaginación artística para siempre.

Cremona: Ciudad de Sonidos y Encrucijadas

Cremona ocupaba una posición única en la geografía musical europea. Situada en una encrucijada del norte de Italia, la ciudad era famosa no solo por su importancia estratégica, sino también por su inigualable tradición en la fabricación de violines. El legado de maestros como Antonio Stradivari, Guarneri y Amati había convertido a Cremona en sinónimo de excelencia sonora.

Para Mozart, cuyo oído era famoso por su precisión y sensibilidad, Cremona debió de ser una ciudad que respiraba música. Su cultura, artesanía y refinamiento musical formaban el escenario perfecto para un joven genio deseoso de aprender de todo lo que encontraba.

Una velada en la ópera: La clemenza di Tito

El sábado 20 de enero de 1770, Leopold y Wolfgang Mozart llegaron a Cremona procedentes de Bozzolo y se alojaron en la posada Colombina. Esa misma noche, asistieron a una representación de La clemenza di Tito en el Teatro Nazari. La ópera, basada en un libreto de Pietro Metastasio, fue uno de los textos más célebres del siglo XVIII y había sido musicalizada por numerosos compositores.

La versión que Mozart escuchó fue la de Johann Adolf Hasse, uno de los compositores de ópera más famosos del Barroco tardío y el Rococó. Hasse, compositor alemán que había alcanzado un inmenso éxito en Italia, era admirado por su elegancia lírica, sus arias expresivas y su magistral interpretación de la voz humana. Su música representaba la cumbre del estilo operístico italiano que Mozart estudiaba con tanta intensidad.

Hasse y el joven Mozart

Hasse no era un compositor cualquiera en el mundo de Mozart; Fue una figura imponente cuyas óperas dominaron los escenarios europeos. Su La clemenza di Tito encarnaba los ideales de la ópera seria: nobleza moral, contención emocional y belleza melódica. Para un Mozart de trece años, que ya componía sinfonías y óperas, esta interpretación fue tanto una revelación como una confirmación de sus propias aspiraciones.

Leopold Mozart observó con satisfacción que tanto padre como hijo encontraron excelente la orquesta cremonesa, escribiendo que «la orquesta de Cremona es muy buena». Es fácil imaginar la emoción de Wolfgang al escuchar la refinada interacción de voces e instrumentos, absorbiendo la fuerza dramática de la ópera en vivo en un teatro reconocido por su sonido.

Un genio reconocido

Solo un año después, en 1771, Hasse compondría su última ópera, Ruggiero, para las celebraciones de la boda del archiduque Fernando de Austria en Milán. En esa misma ocasión, se interpretó una serenata de Mozart, Ascanio in Alba, a sus quince años. Profundamente impresionado por el talento del joven compositor, Hasse declaró:

"Este chico nos hará olvidar a todos".

Fue una declaración profética. La admiración por un maestro como Hasse confirmó lo que muchos comenzaban a comprender: Mozart no era solo un prodigio, sino un genio cuya música trascendería generaciones.

Una impresión imborrable

La velada en el Teatro Nazari de Cremona fue más que una simple actuación; fue un momento de despertar artístico. Para Mozart, aún un niño pero ya un maestro, la experiencia de escuchar la ópera de Hasse en un entorno musical tan refinado dejó una huella imborrable. Fortaleció su amor por la ópera italiana, profundizó su comprensión del colorido orquestal y alimentó su imaginación creativa.

Hoy, al reflexionar sobre el viaje de Mozart por Italia, su visita a Cremona y su histórico teatro se erige como un poderoso símbolo de cómo el lugar, la tradición y el genio juvenil pueden converger. En ese teatro, rodeado de música e historia, un niño de trece años escuchó, aprendió y soñó, y al hacerlo, silenciosamente moldeó el futuro de...

Barcelona - Historic Teatre Principal

Teatre Principal,  Barcelona ,  April 16 , 1876 

The first performance of Aida in Barcelona was on April 16, 1876 at the Teatro Principal. The premiere at the rival theater, the Gran Teatre del Liceu, was months later, on February 25, 1877.

For decades, Barcelona lived a true operatic passion divided between two worlds.

Two theaters, two audiences, two ways of understanding society and prestige: the historic Teatro Principal and the young, modern, and dazzling Gran Teatre del Liceu.

The Principal was the ancient, venerable temple, steeped in centuries of music. Its gilded boxes, warm chandeliers, and intimate atmosphere had witnessed the birth of opera in Spain. There, Mozart, Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini had first reached Spanish audiences. For many Barcelona families, going to the Principal was not just attending a performance: it was continuing a tradition inherited from generations.

But when the Liceu opened its doors, everything changed.

Larger, more lavish, with spectacular halls and dazzling architecture, the Liceu quickly became the place to be. The upper industrial bourgeoisie, the nouveau riche, and the most ostentatious members of the aristocracy began to favor it. There, one could see and be seen.

In the cafés of La Rambla and in private salons, the conversation was:

— “Are you going to the Liceu tonight?”

— “Of course, the Principal is a thing of the past…”

And yet, the past lived on.

Because the Teatro Principal still possessed something the Liceu couldn't buy: history, musical prestige, and an incomparable operatic tradition.

For years, the two societies coexisted almost like two opposing camps. There were the Principal's loyal patrons—lovers of pure opera, of memory, of art—and the new devotees of the Liceu—seduced by the social glamour, the grand spaces, and the modernity.

And then came the night that no one would ever forget.

The night of Aida.

Verdi was already the most admired composer in Europe, and Aida was considered the grandest opera ever created: monumental, exotic, profoundly human, and musically sublime. Everything indicated that its Barcelona premiere should take place at the Liceu, the theater favored by the elegant society of those years.

But the unthinkable happened.

It was the Teatro Principal that secured the premiere.

That decision was almost a historical provocation.

Imagine the city buzzing with rumors. Carriages gliding along La Rambla. Ladies in silk and lace gowns, gentlemen in tailcoats, some proud to be at the Principal, others displeased at not being at the Liceu.

"How is it possible that Aida isn't premiering at the Liceu?"

"Because the Principal remains the true opera house," its defenders responded.

And when the lights of the grand gilded auditorium rose, when the enormous chandelier illuminated the red boxes filled with an elegant audience, the Teatro Principal reclaimed its crown for one night—and forever.

From the stage, the theater must have seemed like a living palace: tiered floors of gold and velvet, attentive faces, eyes shining with emotion. Not overcrowded, but brimming with refined life, allowing one to appreciate every box, every architectural detail.

And then the first notes of Aida rang out.

Barcelona understood that it was witnessing history.

The Liceu could be bigger.

It could be more modern.

But the Teatro Principal had just proven that it was still the operatic heart of the city.

Later would come Wagner, the great international singers, Adelina Patti, Tamberlick… but that night of Aida was etched in memory as a glorious victory of the old theater over its younger rival.

Over the years, the balance slowly tipped toward the Liceu. Elegant society eventually transformed it into Barcelona's grand operatic temple, while the Principal gradually lost its prominence until it became a theater of spoken dialogue.

But no one could erase its legacy.

Opera in Spain was born there.

There, Mozart's music was first heard. There, Verdi triumphantly entered with his most legendary work.

And although the theater no longer exists as it once did, its spirit lives on in photographs, memories, and these recreated images that allow us to relive those magical nights.

Nights of music, rivalry, elegance, and passion.

Nights in which Barcelona's operatic history was decided between two theaters…

and in which the old Teatro Principal, at least once, shone as the greatest of them all.

The Teatre Principal of Barcelona possesses a fascinating and extraordinarily long history. It is not only the oldest theatre in Barcelona, but the oldest in all of Spain, and one of the oldest in Europe and even in the world.

Let us focus especially on its operatic life — the aspect that fascinates me the most — and on its famous rivalry with its neighbour, the Gran Teatre del Liceu.

Briefly, let us recall its origins. Construction began in 1596, and shortly afterwards artistic life already flourished on La Rambla within this historic building. For centuries it stood as the great cultural heart of the city.

But let us move forward in time — to the era when the Teatro Principal was the true operatic centre of Barcelona.

From 1735 onward, the theatre regularly hosted opera and ballet performances. As the most important and largest theatre in the city at the time, all major operatic premieres in Barcelona — and often in Spain itself — took place here.

Mozart’s Così fan tutte was heard for the first time in Spain in this very theatre, long before reaching Valencia or Madrid. And so it was with countless new works arriving from France, Italy, and Germany.

Rossini was heard here shortly after his operas triumphed in Italy. His famous The Barber of Seville was performed for the first time in Barcelona at the Teatro Principal in 1819, along with many of his other operas.

Mercadante — sadly almost forgotten today — was extremely popular throughout Europe in those years. His opera Elisa e Claudio was premiered here with tremendous success, followed by many more of his works.

Donizetti could not be absent from this glorious story. His first opera heard here was L’ajo nell’imbarazzo in 1828.

Bellini followed shortly after, in 1830, with Bianca e Fernando.

One must especially highlight Anna Bolena, Donizetti’s masterpiece, which was performed here in 1835 with enormous success. This very opera would later be chosen, twelve years afterward, to inaugurate the new rival theatre — the Gran Teatre del Liceu.

On April 17, the Liceu opened its doors with Anna Bolena, conducted by Marià Obiols and featuring a distinguished cast led by Giovanna Rossi-Caccia — a Catalan singer of Italian mother who was greatly admired at the time — alongside Carlotta Maironi, Manuel Renou, and Andrea Castellan.

It was a magnificent social event — and the beginning of a delicate rivalry.

Barcelona now had two great opera houses: the Teatro Principal and the Liceu.

The Liceu was larger, more dazzling, more spectacular — with greater capacity, more boxes, grand salons, and an architecture that dazzled the eye. Gradually, Barcelona’s high society, the aristocracy, and many opera lovers began to frequent the Liceu more often, leaving the Teatro Principal behind.

Yet for many years both theatres flourished beautifully. Each had its own subscribers, orchestras, productions, and even world premieres.

Amazingly, the Teatro Principal premiered Aida by Verdi in Barcelona — despite the Liceu already being the fashionable opera house of the elite. Logically, one might have expected such a monumental work to open at the Liceu, but history chose otherwise, and the Teatro Principal forever holds the honour of having presented Aida first in the city.

Wagner, too, was first heard here in Barcelona, with Lohengrin.

Great voices graced its stage: Enrico Tamberlick — the legendary Don Alvaro of La forza del destino in Saint Petersburg — sang here, and the incomparable Adelina Patti, Verdi’s favourite soprano, performed at the Teatro Principal rather than at the Liceu.

The auditorium itself, though not as vast as the Liceu, was exquisite — adorned with elegant tiers of boxes, glowing with warm light, filled with refined audiences in silk gowns and formal attire. For centuries, before the Liceu existed, it was without question the finest opera house in Spain — a jewel of beauty, acoustics, and prestige.

As more theatres opened across Barcelona, competition increased. Slowly, the Liceu became the city’s primary operatic temple, while the Teatro Principal gradually slipped into second place. Eventually, it transformed into a spoken theatre, while opera and ballet became exclusive to the Liceu.

The list of operas first heard here is astonishing.

Gluck’s masterpiece Orfeo ed Euridice was performed here for the first time in Spain in 1780.

The first Mozart opera ever heard in Spain was performed here in 1790 — while Mozart himself was still alive — once again Così fan tutte.

Anna Bolena, though first performed in Barcelona at the Teatro Principal, had already been heard in Madrid, and therefore was not an absolute Spanish premiere.

However, Verdi’s very first opera, Oberto, was performed in Spain for the first time in this theatre, only three years after its premiere at La Scala in Milan.

With the passing of time, the theatre eventually closed. At the end of the 20th century it reopened briefly and even hosted opera performances once more — I personally attended one of them — but sadly it closed again.

Today it remains shut.

Let us hope that one day it will reopen, return to life, and recover the splendour it once knew — the stage where centuries of music, voices, passion, and history once illuminated Barcelona.

Barcelona's Teatro Principal wasn't just a building: it was a universe of music, light, and life.

For centuries, it was the beating heart of opera in Spain, a place where the city breathed art and where European music found one of its first great Iberian voices.

Built in 1596 at the end of the 16th century on the Rambla, already vibrant with movement and humanity, the theater grew along with Barcelona. Long before the Liceu existed, the Teatro Principal was already a cathedral of opera. From 1735 onward, its opera and ballet seasons transformed the city into a musical capital.

The interior, while not as vast as that of the future Liceu, was dazzlingly beautiful: stacked tiers of gilded boxes, deep red velvet, warm lights shimmering on the decorations, and a grand chandelier that resembled a crystal waterfall suspended in the theater's ceiling.

From their seats and boxes, ladies in silk gowns and gentlemen in tailcoats gazed at the stage in a silence filled with emotion, aware that they were witnessing something unique.

It was here that Spain first heard Mozart, when Così fan tutte resounded in 1790 during the composer's lifetime.

It was here that Rossini conquered Barcelona with The Barber of Seville in 1819.

It was here that Mercadante achieved triumphs now almost forgotten with Elisa and Claudio.

Donizetti arrived in 1828, Bellini in 1830, and in 1835, Anna Bolena exploded into extraordinary success.

That same Anna Bolena would later inaugurate the new rival, the Gran Teatre del Liceu, twelve years later. From then on, the city had two great temples of opera.

The Liceu was larger, more modern, more sumptuous—and slowly attracted Barcelona's high society. But the Teatro Principal never ceased to be glorious.

Here, Barcelona saw Verdi's Aida for the first time.

Here, it heard Wagner perform Lohengrin.

Here, giants like Enrico Tamberlick and the legendary Adelina Patti, Verdi's favorite soprano, sang.

Imagining a premiere at the Teatro Principal—perhaps even for Aida—is like entering a living painting.

From the stage, the gaze takes in a sea of ​​faces illuminated by the chandelier. The gilded boxes shine like molten gold, the red velvets envelop the room in a warm embrace, and the air vibrates with anticipation.

Not a chaotic crowd, but an elegant, composed, present audience—every box filled, every order alive, every gaze directed toward the music.

For decades, this theater was the soul of opera in Spain.

Then, slowly, time changed everything. New theaters, new habits, new fashions. The Liceu became the operatic hub, while the Principal faded into the background, eventually becoming a theater for plays.

Eventually, it closed.

At the end of the 20th century, it reopened briefly—and even opera returned for a moment. I myself attended one of those evenings, like a final farewell to a sleeping giant. Then, silence again.

Today, the Teatro Principal no longer exists as a temple of opera.

But thanks to photographs, memories, and now even recreated images, we can bring it back to life.

We can see it again from the stage:

the illuminated boxes, the ladies dressed in 19th-century fashion, the great chandelier lit, the audience waiting for the orchestra to strike the first notes.

A tribute not only to a building, but to centuries of music, emotion, and beauty.

And who knows—perhaps one day, Barcelona will once again fully honor this theater that, before anyone else, taught the city to love opera.

Il Teatro Principal di Barcellona non era semplicemente un edificio: era un universo di musica, luce e vita.

Per secoli fu il cuore pulsante dell’opera in Spagna, un luogo dove la città respirava arte e dove l’Europa musicale trovava una delle sue prime grandi voci iberiche.

Costruito alla fine del XVI secolo, nel 1596, sulla Rambla già vibrante di movimento e umanità, il teatro crebbe insieme a Barcellona. Molto prima che il Liceu esistesse, il Principal era già una cattedrale della lirica. Dal 1735 in poi, le sue stagioni d’opera e balletto trasformarono la città in una capitale musicale.

L’interno, pur non vasto come quello del futuro Liceu, era di una bellezza abbagliante: ordini sovrapposti di palchi dorati, velluti rossi profondi, luci calde che scintillavano sulle decorazioni, e un grande lampadario che sembrava una cascata di cristallo sospesa nel cielo del teatro.

Dalle poltrone e dai palchi, dame in abiti di seta e signori in frac osservavano il palcoscenico con un silenzio carico di emozione, consapevoli di assistere a qualcosa di unico.

Fu qui che la Spagna ascoltò per la prima volta Mozart, quando Così fan tutte risuonò nel 1790 mentre il compositore era ancora in vita.

Fu qui che Rossini conquistò Barcellona con Il barbiere di Siviglia nel 1819.

Fu qui che Mercadante con Elisa e Claudio ottenne trionfi oggi quasi dimenticati.

Donizetti arrivò nel 1828, Bellini nel 1830, e nel 1835 Anna Bolena esplose in un successo straordinario.

Quella stessa Anna Bolena avrebbe poi inaugurato il nuovo rivale, il Gran Teatre del Liceu, dodici anni più tardi. Da quel momento, la città ebbe due grandi templi dell’opera.

Il Liceu era più grande, più moderno, più sontuoso — e lentamente attirò l’alta società barcellonese. Ma il Principal non smise mai di essere glorioso.

Qui Barcellona vide per la prima volta Aida di Verdi.

Qui ascoltò Wagner con Lohengrin.

Qui cantarono giganti come Enrico Tamberlick e la leggendaria Adelina Patti, la soprano prediletta da Verdi.

Immaginare una sera di prima al Teatro Principal — magari proprio per Aida — è come entrare in un dipinto vivente.

Dal palcoscenico, lo sguardo abbraccia un mare di volti illuminati dal lampadario. I palchi dorati brillano come oro fuso, i velluti rossi avvolgono la sala in un caldo abbraccio, e l’aria vibra di attesa.

Non una folla caotica, ma un pubblico elegante, composto, presente — ogni palco abitato, ogni ordine vivo, ogni sguardo rivolto verso la musica.

Per decenni, questo teatro fu l’anima dell’opera in Spagna.

Poi, lentamente, il tempo cambiò tutto. Nuovi teatri, nuove abitudini, nuove mode. Il Liceu divenne il riferimento lirico, mentre il Principal scivolò in secondo piano, fino a trasformarsi in teatro di prosa.

Alla fine chiuse.

Alla fine del XX secolo riaprì brevemente — e persino l’opera tornò per un istante. Io stesso ho assistito a una di quelle serate, come un ultimo saluto a un gigante addormentato. Poi di nuovo il silenzio.

Oggi il Teatro Principal non esiste più come tempio della lirica.

Ma grazie alle fotografie, ai ricordi, e ora anche alle immagini ricreate, possiamo restituirgli vita.

Possiamo tornare a vederlo dal palcoscenico:

i palchi illuminati, le dame vestite alla moda ottocentesca, il grande lampadario acceso, il pubblico in attesa che l’orchestra attacchi le prime note.

Un omaggio non solo a un edificio, ma a secoli di musica, emozione e bellezza.

E chissà — forse un giorno Barcellona saprà ancora onorare pienamente questo teatro che, prima di tutti, insegnò alla città ad amare l’opera.

Le Teatro Principal de Barcelone n'était pas qu'un simple bâtiment : c'était un univers de musique, de lumière et de vie.

Pendant des siècles, il fut le cœur battant de l'opéra en Espagne, un lieu où la ville respirait l'art et où la musique européenne trouva l'une de ses premières grandes voix ibériques.

Construit en 1596, à la fin du XVIe siècle, sur les Ramblas, déjà vibrantes de mouvement et d'humanité, le théâtre grandit au rythme de Barcelone. Bien avant l'existence du Liceu, le Teatro Principal était déjà une cathédrale de l'opéra. À partir de 1735, ses saisons d'opéra et de ballet transformèrent la ville en capitale musicale.

L'intérieur, bien que moins vaste que celui du futur Liceu, était d'une beauté éblouissante : des loges dorées superposées, du velours rouge profond, des lumières chaudes qui scintillaient sur les décorations et un grand lustre qui ressemblait à une cascade de cristal suspendue au plafond du théâtre.

Depuis leurs sièges et leurs loges, dames en robes de soie et messieurs en queue-de-pie contemplaient la scène dans un silence empli d'émotion, conscients d'assister à un moment unique.

C'est ici que l'Espagne entendit Mozart pour la première fois, lorsque Così fan tutte résonna en 1790, du vivant du compositeur.

C'est ici que Rossini conquit Barcelone avec Le Barbier de Séville en 1819.

C'est ici que Mercadante connut des triomphes aujourd'hui presque oubliés avec Elisa et Claudio.

Donizetti arriva en 1828, Bellini en 1830, et en 1835, Anna Bolena connut un succès fulgurant.

Cette même Anna Bolena inaugurera douze ans plus tard le nouveau rival, le Gran Teatre del Liceu. Dès lors, la ville possédait deux grands temples de l'opéra.

Le Liceu était plus grand, plus moderne, plus somptueux – et attira peu à peu la haute société barcelonaise. Mais le Teatro Principal n'a jamais cessé de briller.

C'est ici que Barcelone a vu pour la première fois Aida de Verdi.

C'est ici qu'elle a entendu Wagner interpréter Lohengrin.

C'est ici que des géants comme Enrico Tamberlick et la légendaire Adelina Patti, la soprano préférée de Verdi, ont chanté.

Imaginer une première au Teatro Principal – peut-être même pour Aida – c'est comme entrer dans un tableau vivant.

Depuis la scène, le regard embrasse une mer de visages illuminés par le lustre. Les loges dorées brillent comme de l'or en fusion, les velours rouges enveloppent la salle d'une douce étreinte et l'air vibre d'impatience.

Non pas une foule chaotique, mais un public élégant, serein et attentif – chaque loge est occupée, chaque salle est animée, chaque regard est tourné vers la musique.

Pendant des décennies, ce théâtre a été l'âme de l'opéra en Espagne.

Puis, lentement, le temps a tout changé. De nouveaux théâtres, de nouvelles habitudes, de nouvelles modes. Le Liceu devint le centre névralgique de l'opéra, tandis que le Principal tomba dans l'oubli, se transformant peu à peu en théâtre.

Finalement, il ferma ses portes.

À la fin du XXe siècle, il rouvrit brièvement – ​​et même l'opéra y fit son retour, l'espace d'un instant. J'ai moi-même assisté à une représentation d'opéra, comme un dernier adieu à un géant endormi. Puis, le silence retomba.

Aujourd'hui, le Teatro Principal n'est plus un temple de l'opéra.

Mais grâce aux photographies, aux souvenirs, et même aux reconstitutions, nous pouvons lui redonner vie.

Nous pouvons le revoir depuis la scène :

les loges illuminées, les dames vêtues à la mode du XIXe siècle, le grand lustre étincelant, le public attendant les premières notes de l'orchestre.

Un hommage non seulement à un bâtiment, mais à des siècles de musique, d'émotion et de beauté.

Et qui sait – peut-être qu'un jour, Barcelone rendra pleinement hommage à ce théâtre qui, avant tout autre, a appris à la ville à aimer l'opéra.

El Teatro Principal de Barcelona no era solo un edificio: era un universo de música, luz y vida.

Durante siglos, fue el corazón palpitante de la ópera en España, un lugar donde la ciudad respiraba arte y donde la música europea encontró una de sus primeras grandes voces ibéricas.

Construido en 1596 a finales del siglo XVI en la Rambla, ya vibrante de movimiento y humanidad, el teatro creció junto con Barcelona. Mucho antes de la existencia del Liceu, el Teatro Principal ya era una catedral de la ópera. A partir de 1735, sus temporadas de ópera y ballet transformaron la ciudad en una capital musical.

El interior, aunque no tan vasto como el del futuro Liceu, era de una belleza deslumbrante: hileras de palcos dorados, terciopelo rojo intenso, luces cálidas que brillaban sobre la decoración y una gran lámpara de araña que parecía una cascada de cristal suspendida en el techo del teatro.

Desde sus asientos y palcos, damas con vestidos de seda y caballeros con frac contemplaban el escenario en un silencio cargado de emoción, conscientes de estar presenciando algo único.

Fue aquí donde España escuchó por primera vez a Mozart, cuando Così fan tutte resonó en 1790, durante la vida del compositor.

Fue aquí donde Rossini conquistó Barcelona con El barbero de Sevilla en 1819.

Fue aquí donde Mercadante alcanzó triunfos ahora casi olvidados con Elisa y Claudio.

Donizetti llegó en 1828, Bellini en 1830, y en 1835, Anna Bolena arrasó con un éxito extraordinario.

Esa misma Anna Bolena inauguraría el nuevo rival, el Gran Teatre del Liceu, doce años después. A partir de entonces, la ciudad contó con dos grandes templos de la ópera.

El Liceu era más grande, más moderno, más suntuoso, y poco a poco atrajo a la alta sociedad barcelonesa. Pero el Teatro Principal nunca dejó de ser glorioso. Aquí, Barcelona vio por primera vez Aida de Verdi. Aquí, escuchó a Wagner interpretar Lohengrin. Aquí, cantaron gigantes como Enrico Tamberlick y la legendaria Adelina Patti, la soprano favorita de Verdi.

Imaginar un estreno en el Teatro Principal —quizás incluso para Aida— es como entrar en un cuadro viviente.

Desde el escenario, la mirada se posa en un mar de rostros iluminados por la lámpara de araña. Los palcos dorados brillan como oro fundido, los terciopelos rojos envuelven la sala en un cálido abrazo y el aire vibra de expectación.

No una multitud caótica, sino un público elegante, sereno y presente: cada palco lleno, cada orden vivo, cada mirada dirigida hacia la música.

Durante décadas, este teatro fue el alma de la ópera en España.

Luego, poco a poco, el tiempo lo cambió todo. Nuevos teatros, nuevas costumbres, nuevas modas. El Liceu se convirtió en el centro neurálgico de la ópera, mientras que el Principal quedó relegado a un segundo plano, convirtiéndose finalmente en un teatro de obras. Finalmente, cerró.

A finales del siglo XX, reabrió brevemente, e incluso la ópera regresó por un momento. Yo mismo asistí a una de esas veladas, como una despedida final a un gigante dormido. Luego, de nuevo, silencio.

Hoy, el Teatro Principal ya no existe como templo de la ópera.

Pero gracias a fotografías, recuerdos e incluso imágenes recreadas, podemos revivirlo.

Podemos verlo de nuevo desde el escenario: los palcos iluminados, las damas vestidas a la moda del siglo XIX, la gran lámpara encendida, el público esperando a que la orquesta diera las primeras notas.

Un homenaje no solo a un edificio, sino a siglos de música, emoción y belleza.

Y quién sabe, quizás algún día Barcelona vuelva a honrar plenamente a este teatro que, antes que nadie, enseñó a la ciudad a amar la ópera.