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THE OPERA1 owes its rise to the attempt which was made in Florence at the beginning of the sixteenth century to discover the musical method of ancient tragedy and to reproduce it in conformity to the spirit of the Renaissance.2 In opposition to the predominant madrigal style of part-singing, worked out in counterpoint, there arose strivings after a method which should give freedom and independence to the solo singer, and which should render the poet's words comprehensible and sympathetic to the hearer. The conviction that this was accomplished to perfection in ancient tragedy led to a search after lost musical traditions, traces of which are observable in the opera seria, even in its latest development. First, recitative was introduced as a middle course between song and ordinary speech, distinguished by accent and rhythm, and sustained by a simple harmony, which emphasised the dialogue. Time and effort were needed to establish this compromise between song and speech, and to convert recitative into the pliable, expressive instrument of musical dialogue.

The first attempt to place an opera in this stilo rappresentativo on the stage was made by Jac. Peri with Ottavio Rinuccini's "Dafne," performed in 1594 at the Palazzo Corsi;3 the same poet's "Euridice" followed in 1600, publicly performed on the occasion of the marriage of Henry IV. with Marie de Medicis. The whole dialogue is rendered in a simply accompanied recitative, without the introduction of anything resembling an air; to this are added choruses, after the example of the old tragedies, not worked out in contrapuntal form like madrigals, as was already the custom with the intermedii of spoken tragedies, but in simple harmonies, and in a key corresponding to the recitatives.

A similar experiment was made in Rome in 1600 by Emilio de' Cavalieri with his oratorio "Dell' Anima e del Corpo," and in Florence the same year by Giulio Caccini with another, "Euridice," which displayed the art of the singers by its numerous embellishments and passages.

Musical language, however, could only attain its full effect when the more elevated sentiments received their due expression in an air, independent in character and perfect in form. The development of solo singing released from its contrapuntal bondage, and made expressive by melody, was largely due to Caccini. The merit of connecting the air with the recitative in opera—for which a precedent was found in the monody of ancient tragedy—belongs to Claudio Monteverde, who also made use of the whole available instrumental wealth of the time. His operas of "Orfeo," composed in Mantua (1607), and "Arianna" (1608) were followed in Venice, where he was appointed kapellmeister (1613), by "Proserpina rapita" (1630), "Adone" (1639), &c. Here, then, were the elements of the opera seria. To follow its continuous development step by step would require such a searching study of details as has not yet been undertaken. The majority of existing accounts are made apparently at random, and without any idea of connection or dependence. A sketch of the leading points in the progress of this development will suffice for our purpose.4

Ancient tragedy being taken as a model, it followed that the stories of ancient mythology or history (they were always considered on the same level) were almost exclusively chosen, although treated for the most part in a widely different spirit.

Opera soon formed an important feature in court festivals, and it became customary to give the text a reference to the festival or person honoured by turning it into an allegory, in which poetical fancy vied with personal flattery.5 In imitation of ancient tragedy mimic dances were connected with the singing, but the union of the arts tended more to sensual enjoyment than to poetical effect. The naïve freedom with which the ancient myths were handled gave ample license for gaudy costumes, scenery, and decorations, and the same taste was carried into the fantastic outcome of these festival representations known as the German magic opera.

The courts of Italy and France vied with each other in the costly splendour lavished on the opera by scene-painters, decorators, and costumiers; and Vienna, Munich, Dresden, and Stuttgart were not slow to follow their example. The elegantly printed books of the words, adorned with careful copper-plate engravings, which were distributed for these performances, give some idea of the style in which they were put on the stage, and of the dazzle and glitter in the midst of which the music became a very secondary consideration.

Such operas as we have described could, on account of the expense, only be given at royal courts on special occasions; but the general public soon began to demand a share in the entertainment and a regular repetition of it. It became the established custom to make the opera the main festivity of the Carnival, and although generous patrons were not wanting, prepared to support the managers (impresarii), yet the latter, who naturally wished to make a profit by the opera, generally found it necessary to reduce the cost of the representations. The libretti, which sought to excite interest by showy scenery, and a mixture of pathetic and burlesque situations, without the least regard to consistency or psychological accuracy, were far from satisfactory to any cultivated taste. But the cultivation of the art of song exercised the highest of all influences on operatic music. It had reached a height from which it was able to govern the musical public, and to render the pleasure of the eye subservient to that of the ear. In proportion as the vocal art asserted its superiority, it exacted a simplification of all other means of attraction, and the universal striving after regularity was materially assisted by the necessity for clear and decided forms in vocal music.

This transformation of the opera, which took its final form from poet and composer under the quickening influence of great singers, is commonly ascribed to Alessandro Scarlatti (1659–1725). He was the disciple, although perhaps not the pupil, of the Roman kapellmeister, Giacomo Carissimi (who was nearly ninety in 1672), who did such good service to the development of recitative and dramatic solo singing, that he may be considered the founder of modern song.

Scarlatti, excellent alike from his thorough musical knowledge, and from the wealth and grace of his invention, displayed astonishing fertility in the different departments of musical art. In the year 1715, according to his own account, he had composed 106 operas.6 At Naples, where he passed the greater part of his life, he founded the school from which (more especially under his successor Francesco Durante, 1693–1755) a long list of composers issued, who for the most part wrote admirable church music, but whose chief mission it was to maintain throughout the last century an uninterrupted succession of operatic music. If we glance down the long list of the more famous—Nic. Porpora (1685 or 1687–1767), Dom. Sarri (1688–1732), Leon. Vinci (1690–1734), Franc. Feo (1694–1740), Leon. Leo (1694–1756?), Ad. Hasse (1699–1783), Terradeglias (17 … −1754), Nic. Logroscino (17 … −1763), Pergolese (1707–1739), Pasq. Cafaro (1708–1787), Duni (1709–1775), Dav. Perez (1711–1778), Nic. Jomelli (1714–1774), Rinaldo da Capua (b. 1715), Tom. Traetta (1727–1779), Guglielmi (1727–1804), Nic. Piccinni (1728–1800), Sacchini (1735–1786), Pasq. Anfossi (1736–1797), Giac. Paisiello (1741–1816), Franc, de Majo (1745–1774), Dom. Cimarosa (1754–1801)—we shall be astonished to find that of the numerous members of the Neapolitan school only four were born out of the kingdom of Naples,7 viz., Hasse, Terradeglias, Pergolese, and Guglielmi. The rest of Italy was quite unable to compete with this wealth.

Venice, however, took an important place in the development of Italian opera, both by the splendour of the performances given in the theatre, which was erected in 1637,8 and by excellent institutions for musical education. The fame of the Venetian school was upheld by many celebrated composers, among them Carlo Pallavicini (16 … −1688), Agost. Steffani (1655–1730). Franc. Gasparini (1665–1737), Ant. Lotti (1667–1740), Giov. Porta (16 … −1740), Ant. Caldara (1678–1763), Buranello (1703–1785), Ferd. Bertoni (1725–1813).

Bologna too had its share in the history of the opera, maintaining a firm tradition of careful performances,9 and excellent schools for singing and composition; Giov. Buonon-cini (1672–1752) and Gius. Sarti (1729–1802) were trained here.

Rome was looked upon as the city where the keenest enthusiasm either of applause or adverse criticism was to be expected, consequently where artistic reputations were most often made or destroyed;10 but Rome was neither the birthplace nor the seminary of any famous operatic masters.

It is not necessary here to inquire into the details of the part taken by Scarlatti in the erection of Italian opera as it now exists. His operas are truly epitomes of the history of musical development, and his many imitators and successors pass before us like the shadows of the Homeric shades; but we have only to do with him or with them in so far as concerns the main features of that form of operatic composition which Mozart found ready to hand.11

The stability with which operatic development kept close to the path which had at first been marked out was due partly to circumstances and the influence of public opinion, partly to the character of the Italian people. Beauty, appealing immediately and directly to their lightly kindled imaginations, required that its sensual charm should be clearly and unreservedly expressed; and for this they were willing to sacrifice novelty and characterisation. Again, the art of music was developed in accordance with natural laws; and having once acquired forms indicative of its essential elements, it grasped these firmly, and refused to abandon them until they had become completely obsolete. It was the task of the great masters of the eighteenth century to maintain this course of steady imperceptible progress, and, by raising to successive stages each hardly won step towards perfection, to establish in the end a new and more admirable whole.

The chief component parts of the opera were the recitative and the song, or aria.12 Recitative, intended for the rendering of conversation, approaches in rhythm and intervals as near as possible to ordinary speech, and leaves the singer ample scope for an animated and expressive delivery. This is assisted by a simple harmonious accompaniment, the basses giving the fundamental, the clavier the harmony. The simplicity of the musical treatment lends itself to characteristic declamation, and impressive situations are thrown into relief generally by sudden changes of harmony; numerous instances show the importance that was attached to this mode of delivery. But very soon it became the fashion to treat this recitativo secco as subordinate, and the composer strove to do away with it as far as possible. Certain turns, certain harmonic progressions and interrupted cadences, were as indispensable to recitative as many turns of speech are to social intercourse. As the course and development of the action of the piece depend almost entirely on the recitative, it follows that any neglect of the latter must affect one of the most important elements of the opera. The need for attaining the power of expressing a momentary passion or inspiration which would not admit of an elaborate representation led to the introduction of the so-called accompanied (obligate) recitative. For this the orchestra (at first only the whole body of stringed instruments) was made use of, and accompanied the alternations of emotion with corresponding musical phrases or interludes. Recitative, without abandoning its distinctive characteristics, became more strongly accentuated, and in process of time passed over into song. Such vocal melodies as seemed thus to be called forth by the emotions of the situations were called cavata or cavatina. At first they were considered as an ingredient or embellishment of the recitative, but later on they were treated independently. Arioso in the recitative indicates an interpolated passage of vocal melody. A rapid alternation of varied or contending emotions in monologue or dialogue called for accompanied recitative, which generally passed into a song, where a definite emotion might find its due expression. It was here that singers and composers sought to accomplish the highest degree of dramatic expression, and although in the aria they might be tempted to an undue regard for musical display, to the neglect of dramatic effect, here at least they strove for a faithful portrayal of human sentiment.

The aria was the almost exclusive form given to regular artistic song. Choruses, which formerly concluded every act, were afterwards only exceptionally employed, generally when the occasion, being a court festivity, required additional outward show; they very seldom formed an integral part of the performance.13 Ballets, which were originally combined with the choruses, became by degrees quite distinct, and were given between the acts of the opera. Concerted vocal pieces were confined within limits more and more strictly defined, until the rule came to be that in every opera there should be a duet for the prima donna and the primo uomo, and a terzet in which the primo tenore also took part; even the places for these, at the end of the second and third acts, were appointed. Further restrictions were imposed on the character of these concerted pieces by the necessity of giving all possible effect to the voices. They do not pretend to represent a conflict of struggling passions, pressing onward to the catastrophe; rather does some definite mood, the natural result of the situations which have preceded it, find its fitting expression in their regular concerted form, which affords ample scope for the display of varieties in quality and style of the individual voices.

The aria, which gave expression to a fixed lyrical mood, was seldom the culminating point of a dramatic situation; its connection with the action of the piece was, for the most part, only sufficient to give it a certain local colour. It was the task of both composer and singer to make the aria fit in to the drama; but the claims of the vocalist were paramount in its composition. As the canons of operatic construction became more and more strictly defined, distinctions arose between different kinds of arie, each having its own character and form; the aria cantabile was for sentimental declamation, di portamento for long drawn-out tones, di mezzo carattere for dramatic expression, aria parlante or agitata for the expression of passion, aria di bravura (agilità) for the display of artistic skill of every kind.14 The poet and composer had only to be careful to suit the arie to the performers, and so to distribute them through the opera that their variety should place the performances of each character in their most favourable light.15 But a certain fixed form served as a groundwork to all arie, and kept them within well-defined bounds. It is easy to trace the simple expressive phrase as it is extended and rounded into a well-formed melody, and then to follow the different subjects so obtained until, by progressions and interludes, they are welded into a whole. But this led to a petrifying formalism, and to a tedious lengthening of the aria, which sacrificed character to vocal display.

An aria regularly consists of two parts differing in key, time, and measure. An allegro in common time usually begins, introduced by a slower passage in triple time; but as to this there is no fixed rule, and free scope as to details is given to the composer. The first movement is broadly conceived, always with a view to the skill of the performer; he repeats one or more of the principal melodies in different positions, but without thematic elaboration, and inserts runs and passages.

In the second part the composer, granting some repose to the singer, made a display of his own art by selected harmonies, elaborate accompaniments, and so forth. It was essential to the singer's reputation as an artist that he should be able to vary the modulation and embellishment of the melody each time it recurred, the composer supplying a mere outline, and leaving the execution of the cadenzas entirely to the discretion of the performer. This task became more difficult as the custom grew of repeating the whole of the first part at the close of the second, thus turning the latter into a middle movement; for no singer would be deterred from enhancing the interest of each repetition by a fresh mode of delivery. So that the public performers of that day displayed their taste and cultivation not only, as at present, by execution and declamation; they worked of necessity side by side with the composer, whose special glory it was to inspire his singers with a spark of his own creative genius.

The influence thus exerted by the executive artist could not fail to determine, to a great extent, the path of development in operatic composition. The great names of the more celebrated singers are to us indeed but names, for contemporary notices give us no clear idea of their performances,16 and the music written for them, deprived of the direct charm of their personal impression, affords a most imperfect standard of judgment.

From the middle of the last century the tendency to sacrifice all consideration to execution (bravura) became more and more marked; until at last, dramatic propriety, and the soul-inspiring calm of beautiful song, were alike buried beneath the weight of ornamentation and exaggerated flourishes,17 serving only to display the pretensions of the vocalist and the dexterity of the composer. In this way the dramatic element of the opera became more and more neglected, until at last it was regarded as a superfluous and disturbing adjunct to the vocalisation.18

The public too grew accustomed to confine their attention to the individual exploits of their favourites;19 and the composer, unwilling to waste his energy on thankless parts, followed the example, and devoted his whole powers to a few individuals.20

The enormous salary paid to celebrated singers, male and female, had the effect of limiting the number of principal parts to three or four, each distinguished as primo.21 The remaining parts were treated by both the poet and the composer as subordinate, not only on account of the mediocre powers available for their representation, but also and chiefly because it would have been against the interests of the great singers that secondary characters should attract notice or applause. They controlled all secondary parts, suppressing or appropriating any song which they considered too brilliant, and leaving the author to arrange the piece as best he might.22 There was a fixed code of etiquette in all stage arrangements. The prima donna, for instance, was entitled to have her train borne by one, or if a princess, by two pages; she took the place of honour at the right of the stage, being, as a rule, the most important personage of the piece. When Faustina Hasse played Dircea, in "Demofoonte" (1748), who is not recognised as a princess until late in the piece, she claimed precedence over the acknowledged Princess Creusa, and Metastasio himself was obliged to interfere in order to induce her to yield the point.23

Thus all influences combined to mould the opera seria into a narrow conventional form, in which all other considerations were sacrificed to executive effect, and the display of skill and sensibility in the rendering of the music.

We can form no clear conception whatever of the operatic orchestra in its earliest form; both the use and the effect of various instruments are very imperfectly known, and the instrumentation is consequently more or less incomprehensible. But here too development proceeded in the way of simplification, and at the time of Scarlatti the treatment of instrumental accompaniment and the disposal of the orchestra was determined as to essentials for all future times.

In the plain recitative of the dialogue, the fundamental note was given by the bass, and the chord was struck on the piano (at which the composer or kapellmeister conducted) and repeated as often as necessary. In the songs and ensembles the instruments came in as accompaniments, freed from the obligation of following a given melody step by step with a given bass, according to the rules of thoroughbass for filling up harmonies. Scarlatti and the earlier masters kept this accompaniment very simple, seldom introducing more than one part in addition to the bass and the voice. But, as practised contrapuntists, they could handle the accompanying parts broadly and freely, and could give animation by simple means. This art gradually decreased, and the accompaniment, although fuller, became more mechanical and dependent, Only here and there suggesting contrapuntal elaboration. The orchestra was used independently only in the symphonies which repeated the motifs of the songs, in the short interludes of accompanied recitative, and finally in the introductory overture or sinfonia.

Italian operatic composers began by making use of the form of overture which Lully had established in France, beginning with an adagio, followed by a quick movement, often in the form of a fugue, and passing again into an adagio, which concludes the overture. Later, the form was determined which has remained ever since, of three movements: an allegro, a slower, shorter movement contrasting in time, instrumentation, and expression, and a concluding allegro, animated and often noisy.

These main features were capable of rich and varied development, were it not that in Italy little importance was attached to the overture, which was commonly regarded as a means of reducing the audience to silence and attention. The three movements, therefore, generally preserved their gradations without marked characteristics, and the attempt to express the effect of the first scene by means of the overture was soon abandoned.24

The grouping of Scarlatti's orchestra was in its main points identical with that of the present day. The stringed instruments, violins, tenors, and basses formed its main strength; but their application was very simple. The violon-celli go regularly with the double-basses, and the tenors serve generally only to strengthen the bass; where they are independent they are often divided, like the violins, which however frequently go together. The oboe has the chief part among the wind instruments, the flutes serving mainly for variety and special characteristics; the bassoons strengthen the bass, and are rarely used independently. Soon horns were employed, and drums and trumpets when special splendour was required; trombones were used in the churches, never in the opera.

In this manner even the largest orchestras were arranged down to the close of the last century; an example is afforded by the construction and arrangement of the Dresden orchestra by Hasse, which was considered as a model.25 [See Page Image] The well-appointed bass parts are the most striking, intended as a firm foundation for the vocal melody, which is not seldom strengthened by the violins and oboes or flutes. But to avoid any effect of poverty, it must not be forgotten that the accompanist at the piano filled in the harmony. To strengthen this, and to give variety to the intonation, was the task of the wind instruments. But when the orchestra was treated as a whole there was seldom any attempt to render lights and shades by alternations of the instruments; to attain this end, concerted solo instruments were employed.

Italy was, during the eighteenth century, at once the mother and the nurse of instrumental musicians. A succession of first-rate violinists—Arcang. Corelli (1653–1713), Franc. Geminiani (1680–1762), Ant. Vivaldi (16 … −1743), Gius. Tartini (1692–1770), Pietro Nardini (1722–1793), Gaet. Pugnani (1727–1803), Ant. Lolli (1733–1802)—established the glory of violin-playing, and raised it to an extraordinary height of excellence; while as oboists the brothers Besozzi, Alessandro (1700–1775), Antonio (1707–1781), Gaetano (1727–1793) were performers of the first merit. Trumpets were at that time more especially considered as solo instruments.

Not until later could Germany compete successfully with Italy, as far as the orchestra was concerned; in France, although the precision of Parisian orchestras was always remarkable, the development of instrumental music was longest delayed. Scarlatti introduced instrumental soloists in the operatic orchestra, and the effect was the same as on the stage; it worked against the careful striving after a perfect whole, and the tendency of the instrumental artists to enter into competition with the vocalists led in no small degree to that treatment of the voice as a mere instrument which was so much to be deplored. Notably Farinelli in 1722 established his reputation in Rome by a contest with a wonderful trumpeter, whom he twice vanquished in the sustenance and artistic delivery of a long note, and in the execution of difficult passages.26

The first step towards simplifying opera seria in its new form was made in the diction and treatment of the plot. The subject-matter continued to be taken from the stories of mythology or ancient history; but effects of magic and show were abolished, and a connected well-developed plot was substituted, simple in action, and confined to a small number of personages. Next, the previous mixture of the tragic and comic elements was abolished, and everything approaching to burlesque strictly interdicted. The chief efforts in this direction were made by the Roman Silvio Stampiglia (d. 1722), to whom Apostolo Zeno awards more of genius and spirit than thorough cultivation,27 and whom Arteaga calls dry and unmusical.28 Apostolo Zeno himself (1688–1750) followed in the same path as court poet to Charles VI. He was a man of education and learning, and as such sought to model the opera on ancient tragedy in its best and most manly form, and strove for a naturally developed plot, correct delineation of character, and simplicity of language. He proved, said Metastasio,29 that the opera and good sense are not absolutely contradictory terms. The fact that his operas were often and successfully performed during the first half of the century bears testimony to the simplicity and earnestness of the musical taste of the time; later on, as the field of music extended its limits, his text was found pedantic.30 His indisputable merit31 was thrown into the shade by Metastasio's works;32 these denote in a remarkable degree the spirit of the time which produced them, a spirit that they themselves fostered and encouraged.

Metastasio (Pietro Trapassi, 1698–1782) distinguished himself as a boy by his talent for improvisation; he received a thorough learned education from the celebrated Roman jurist Gravina, which led to his adoption of classical antiquity as his model; while his connection with the singer Marianna Bulgarini early gave him an insight into the technical requirements of the opera. He began his career as a librettist in 1724 with "Didone" at Naples; in 1730 he went to Vienna as court poet, where he lived on the best of terms with the Imperial family,33 and highly esteemed by the cultivated public. Following Apostolo Zeno, he sought to supply his operas with a true dramatic form, and he made it his chief aim to portray the effect of different characters and passions upon the development of the action. Metastasio had no large or powerful conceptions, nor could he grasp strong passions; his psychological vision is clear and cool, but limited, just as his sentiments are correct and good, but neither wide nor free. In his dramas, therefore, the representation of character and the plot are well-considered, suitable, and consistent, but with a certain mediocrity running through the whole; he chiefly concerns himself with the exemplification of principles and experiences, and individualises but little.34 He makes love the animating element of his drama, and the starting point of his psychological study of motives. His characters want neither life nor passion, but softness and veiled sensuality are the characteristic features of what he endeavoured to make an imitation of actual life. The public were gratified at recognising themselves and their love affairs glorified on the stage, and were grateful to Metastasio for allowing them to enjoy themselves in their own way, and not preaching moderation and self-control. They admired his language too, which is correct, and charmingly melodious and natural in expression, not more rhetorical than the Italian language and poetry demands, and never overlaid with conceits.

To these qualities of a dramatic poet, Metastasio joined that of an operatic composer; he was a musician. He had cultivated his musical talent by intercourse with singers and composers, and had a ready perception of what was necessary to a work written for composition. He sang "come un serafino" (as he writes jokingly to Farinelli),35 played the clavier, and composed a little himself;36 he found it a pleasant incitement to poetical activity to seat himself at the clavier and improvise. He said himself he had never written a song without composing it himself, according to his own conception of its musical character.37

Metastasio confines the development of the plot as a rule to the recitative and the arie (or duet, or terzet), expressing at the close of each scene the sentiment which is the result of the previous action. This they always did so clearly and precisely that the composer had both incentive and scope for musical treatment.

The too numerous figures and metaphors (which he was fond of borrowing from the sea) express the taste of the time, and so far from troubling the musician, gave him opportunities for musical painting which was sure to be admired. The melodious language met the music half way, while the simple yet varied rhythm, the contrast of ideas, and the construction of the verse, aided the composer, without fettering him, in the musical phrasing of his work.

It was no wonder that Metastasio reigned supreme over the stage and its composers, and that he was the model of the later operatic poets; they succeeded best in imitating his defects, and gave Naumann occasion to say with justice, "The oldest of Metastasio's operas is more pleasing to me than any written by our present poets."

Metastasio was well aware that the poet only supplies a stem to the opera, which the composer clothes with foliage and blossom;38 but he was far from allowing the composer absolute dominion over the poet, and prided himself on the fact that his operas had been played with applause as tragedies without music both in France and Germany.39

He chose to consider the composer as the interpreter of the poet, and bound to follow his indications of character and style.40 This was in his opinion the chief merit of the old composers, and in his later years he was never weary of deploring the decline of music, which was the consequence of the license taken by vocalists, destroying alike truth and beauty of expression.41

The poet not less than the composer found himself hemmed in by conditions as well as by traditional formulas. He too performed his task to order, and was hampered by circumstances, and by the limited means at his command in his choice of subject and characters.

It was in no way favourable to Zeno and Metastasio that they received their commissions from the court;42 besides the direct influence of the taste of the somme padrone, the whole atmosphere tended to effeminacy and a uniform level in style. The impresarii chose the libretti for the composers they had engaged, partly according to the applause the subjects had already received, but more to suit the singers they had at command. They were altered to suit the occasion sometimes by the poet himself, but more often some local poet undertook the necessary curtailments and additions, whereby the work seldom profited.43

The absolute monarchy of Zeno and Metastasio, whom all other poets slavishly imitated, would alone suffice to explain the fact that in the course of the last century opera seria received the fixed and unalterable form it still retains; we have seen that the tendency was the same as regards the music. This makes it comprehensible that in reading the text or the scores in the present day we have so lively an impression that they are but copies of one original. In no art does the feeling for what is enduring pass so easily and quickly into the taste for what pleases the age as in music. What affords most delight to the present often expresses only a transitory mood with a momentary truth, and when the smoke and the fragrance which surrounded it have disappeared, only an empty form remains; just as a mask keeps the impression of the features without the play of the muscles, which alone give life and expression.