Rigoletto, opera in three acts by Italian composer Giuseppe Verdi (Italian libretto by Francesco Maria Piave) that premiered at La Fenice opera house in Venice on March 11, 1851. Based closely on the controversial 1832 play Le Roi s’amuse (The King Amuses Himself; also performed in English as The King’s Fool) by Victor Hugo, Verdi’s opera was nearly kept off the stage by censors. With Rigoletto, Verdi reached a new level in his career; his next two operas, Il trovatore and La traviata, exhibit comparable artistry. Each of the three remains a staple of the operatic repertoire. The opera’s best-known aria is “La donna è mobile,” in which the womanizing Duke of Mantua muses upon the fickleness of women.

Background and context

Verdi had agreed in 1850 to write an opera for La Fenice in Venice, where Piave, one of his favourite librettists, was the resident poet. The composer was eager to adapt Hugo’s Le Roi s’amuse, which he declared “the greatest subject and perhaps the greatest drama of modern times.” Verdi also said that the title character, called Tribolet in the play, was “worthy of Shakespeare.” The composer, librettist, and theatre management were aware that getting the libretto through the censorship process could be a challenge. The play had premiered in 1832 but was banned after only one performance when the French government, horrified by its disrespectful portrayal of a monarch, declared it immoral.

Northern Italy was at the time controlled by the Austrian Empire. (See Italy: The Vienna settlement.) If Verdi wished to stage an opera in Milan or Venice, two cities central to his career, he needed permission from both Austrian and local authorities. Very early in their work on the libretto, under the title La maledizione (“The Curse”), Verdi and Piave began revising the story so that they would avoid problems with the censors. They changed the lecherous and debauched king to a duke, transposed the setting to Italy, and made adjustments to decrease some of the more shocking aspects of the violent story. As Verdi had wished, however, the duke’s antagonist remained a cruel hunchbacked jester. They had not expected to have problems with the censors. Yet back-and-forth demands and responses, first from the Austrian censor and next from the local authorities, continued almost until the opera opened. Under its final title, Rigoletto, the premiere was well received. Two years later Verdi insisted that the opera had “the best, the most effective subject I have so far set to music.”

Rigoletto is an acknowledged masterpiece that demonstrates Verdi’s complete grasp of his musical materials. The action proceeds almost continuously, so the audience rarely perceives artificial breaks for conventional arias. The orchestra conveys moods and unspoken emotion, perhaps most notably in the storm music of the final act. Even minor characters are delineated musically—for example, through distinctive rhythmic, melodic, or harmonic patterns. The quartet “Bella figlia dell’ amore,” is a marvel of simultaneous characterization, beautifully integrated into the larger context. In fact, upon seeing Rigoletto in Paris, Victor Hugo himself wrote about the quartet:

If I could only make four characters in my plays speak at the same time, and have the audience grasp the words and the sentiments, I would obtain the very same effect.

Betsy Schwarm

Cast and vocal parts

  • The Duke of Mantua (tenor)
  • Rigoletto, the Duke’s jester (baritone)
  • Gilda, Rigoletto’s daughter (soprano)
  • Sparafucile, hired assassin (bass)
  • Maddalena, Sparafucile’s sister (mezzo-soprano)
  • Count Ceprano, a nobleman (bass)
  • Countess Ceprano, Ceprano’s wife (soprano or mezzo-soprano)
  • Count Monterone, an elderly nobleman (baritone)
  • Borsa, a courtier (tenor)
  • Marullo, a courtier (baritone)
  • Giovanna, Gilda’s nurse (soprano or mezzo-soprano)
  • Courtiers, nobles, pages, servants

Setting and story summary

Rigoletto is set in Mantua, Italy, in the 16th century.

Act I

Scene 1. The Duke of Mantua’s palace.

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At a splendid ball in his palace, the Duke of Mantua boasts to his retainer, Borsa, of his plan to finish his conquest of a young woman who has been at church every Sunday for three months. He has discovered where she lives, and every night he sees a mysterious man enter her house. The Duke has not revealed his identity to the woman. Borsa, meanwhile, admires the ladies at the ball, and the Duke is particularly taken with the wife of Count Ceprano. Borsa warns that if Ceprano were to find out, he might tell the young woman. But the Duke does not care; all women are the same to him (“Questa o quella”). As Countess Ceprano passes by, the Duke flirts with her and escorts her out of the room. Rigoletto, the Duke’s hunchbacked jester, mocks the sullen Count Ceprano, who follows them out in a huff. Rigoletto joins them, laughing.

Marullo, another of the Duke’s retainers, comes in with big news: Rigoletto has a mistress! The courtiers suppress their laughter as Rigoletto arrives with the Duke, who is whispering to the jester that Ceprano is a pest and his wife an angel. Rigoletto advises the Duke, in a voice loud enough for the Count to hear, to carry the Countess off and imprison or execute her husband. Ceprano is enraged. The Duke warns Rigoletto that he has gone too far, but Rigoletto does not care. The courtiers and ladies enjoy the scene immensely. The merriment is interrupted by the sudden entrance of Count Monterone, who threatens the Duke. Rigoletto mocks him for complaining that the Duke has seduced his daughter. Outraged, Monterone swears vengeance. The Duke orders his arrest. As he is led away, Monterone places a curse upon the Duke and Rigoletto for laughing at a father’s grief. Rigoletto is visibly shaken.

Scene 2. An alley outside Rigoletto’s house.

Rigoletto is still upset by Monterone’s curse. A strange man, the sinister Sparafucile, accosts him. He reveals his sword and offers to free Rigoletto from the man who cursed him. The killer’s attractive sister, Maddalena, will lure the victim to their house, where Sparafucile will quietly execute him. Rigoletto declines the offer, and Sparafucile says that he can be found in the alley every night. After dismissing him, Rigoletto reflects that they are alike: both destroy others—Rigoletto with his wit and acerbic tongue, Sparafucile with his sword (“Pari siamo”). He reflects again on Monterone’s curse and rails at Nature for making him deformed and wicked, with no choice but to be a buffoon and no solace but in mocking the Duke’s courtiers.

Rigoletto shakes off his fears and enters the courtyard of his house, where Gilda, his young daughter, throws herself into his arms. Noticing that her father is troubled, she begs him to tell her what is wrong. Gilda, not knowing her own history, wants him to tell her who he really is and who her mother was. Rigoletto, sighing, describes his lost love, a woman who loved him despite his deformity and poverty. Sadly, she died, leaving Gilda to console him. He will not tell her anything else, only that she is his whole life. Gilda accepts his reticence and asks permission to go out into the city, which she has yet to explore. Rigoletto adamantly refuses and pointedly asks if she has already gone out. She says no, and he warns her to be careful. Secretly, he fears that the courtiers will find Gilda and dishonour her. He calls for her nurse, Giovanna, and asks whether anyone has been to the house. She says no, and Rigoletto urges her to keep a close watch on Gilda. His daughter proceeds to comfort him with the image of her mother watching over them from heaven.

Rigoletto hears something outside and goes to investigate. The Duke, disguised in humble clothes, slips into the courtyard and hides behind a tree, silencing Giovanna by throwing her a money purse. Rigoletto returns, asking Gilda if anyone has ever followed her to church; she says no. He orders Giovanna never to open the door to anyone, especially the Duke. The Duke, in his hiding place, is stunned to discover that the woman he desires is Rigoletto’s daughter. Father and daughter embrace, and Rigoletto leaves.

Gilda is stricken by remorse, for she failed to tell her father about the young man who has followed her to church. When Giovanna suggests that he might be a great gentleman, Gilda replies that she would prefer that he be poor; she confesses that in her fantasies she tells him that she loves him.

The Duke emerges from hiding and throws himself at Gilda’s feet, repeating that he loves her. He motions for Giovanna to leave. Gilda, frightened, calls for her nurse, but the Duke presses his suit. She asks him to leave, but his flowery words of love have captured her. She admits that she loves him and asks his name. (Meanwhile, outside, Borsa and Ceprano have found the home of the despised Rigoletto.) The Duke tells Gilda that he is a poor student named Gualtier Maldé. Giovanna comes in to say that she has heard footsteps outside. Fearing that Rigoletto has returned, Gilda urges the Duke to leave. They swear undying love before Giovanna leads him out.

Alone, Gilda reflects on her lover’s name and swears to love him forever (“Caro nome”). Out in the street, however, Ceprano, Borsa, Marullo, and other courtiers, armed and masked, are spying on her. They are stunned by the beauty of the woman they believe to be Rigoletto’s lover. Meanwhile, Rigoletto blunders onto the scene. It is too dark for him to see who is there. Marullo identifies himself and tells him that they are planning to abduct Countess Ceprano for the Duke. To prove it, Marullo hands Rigoletto the key to Ceprano’s nearby palace. Rigoletto likes the plan and asks to be masked like the others. Marullo obliges—with a blindfold—and tells Rigoletto that he is to hold the ladder. The courtiers clamber up the ladder and into Rigoletto’s house. They drag Gilda screaming out of the house; she drops a scarf as they take her off. Rigoletto, still holding the ladder, at first enjoys the joke but then tears off the blindfold. Seeing Gilda’s scarf, he cries out, “Ah! The curse!”

Act II

A drawing room in the Duke’s palace.

The Duke, having discovered that Gilda has been taken, but not by whom, rails against her abductors and vows revenge (“Ella mi fu rapita”). Marullo and the others arrive with the news that Rigoletto’s mistress has been kidnapped. The Duke, amused, asks to hear how it was done; as they do so, he realizes that the abducted woman is Gilda. He is overjoyed to learn that they have brought her to his own palace, and he hurries off to see her.

Meanwhile, Rigoletto shuffles in, singing of his grief. The courtiers pretend to feel sorry for him and ask him what is new. As he answers sarcastically, he looks around for clues about where Gilda might be. He finds a handkerchief, but it is not hers. When he asks about the Duke, they say that he is sleeping. Just then a page enters with a message from the Duchess. The courtiers firmly turn him away, first saying that the Duke is out hunting, then that he cannot see anyone right now. Rigoletto realizes that Gilda is with the Duke. The courtiers mock him for losing his mistress, but he reveals that the young woman is actually his daughter. He tries to run into the other room, but they block him. He threatens them, but to no avail (“Cortigiani”). Then he begs for their pity, but they ignore him.

Gilda rushes in, weeping for shame. Rigoletto orders the courtiers to leave. They do so, but they stay nearby to watch him. Gilda tells her father about how she saw a handsome young student at church and fell in love with him at first sight, how he suddenly appeared to declare his love, and how she was abducted soon after (“Tutte le feste al tempio”). Rigoletto consoles her and says they can leave after he does what he has to do.

Monterone and his guards pass by—the aged man is being led to prison. He addresses the Duke’s portrait on the wall, saying that his curse was in vain. As Monterone leaves, Rigoletto swears that he will be avenged (“Sì, vendetta”). He ignores Gilda’s pleas to forgive the Duke, for she loves him in spite of his betrayal.

Act III

Outside Sparafucile’s house, by the river.

Rigoletto asks Gilda if she still loves the Duke; she replies that she will love him forever, because he loves her. To prove her wrong, Rigoletto leads her over to an opening in the wall of Sparafucile’s house and tells her to watch. She can see the Duke enter the room and ask Sparafucile for a room and some wine. The Duke sings of woman’s fickleness (“La donna è mobile”). At Sparafucile’s signal, his sister, Maddalena, comes downstairs. The Duke begins to flirt with her. Meanwhile, Sparafucile comes out of the house, draws Rigoletto aside, and asks if the Duke should live or die. Rigoletto says that he will come back later to discuss this. Sparafucile goes off behind the house.

From outside the house, Gilda and Rigoletto watch as the Duke pursues Maddalena. Gilda is in agony but cannot tear herself away, though Rigoletto keeps asking her whether she has had enough (Quartet: “Bella figlia dell’amore”). Rigoletto urges her to go home, change into the male clothing that he has prepared for her as a disguise, and flee to Verona; he will join her tomorrow.

After she leaves, Rigoletto fetches Sparafucile and pays him half the money for the murder. When Rigoletto says he will return at midnight, Sparafucile replies that it is unnecessary and offers to take care of throwing the body in the river. But Rigoletto insists on doing that himself. Sparafucile asks the victim’s name. Rigoletto replies as he leaves, “He is Crime, and I am Punishment.”

A storm is brewing. Sparafucile enters the house; the Duke and Maddalena are still flirting. Knowing the plan, she secretly urges the Duke to leave, but he refuses because of the storm. Sparafucile takes her aside and shows her the money. Then he invites the Duke to stay for the night. The Duke agrees and, lightly singing his “woman is fickle” tune, falls asleep. Maddalena has fallen for the Duke, but Sparafucile is focused on the money. Meanwhile, the storm is worsening. Gilda reappears outside the house, dressed as a man. She looks through the crack in the wall and overhears Maddalena trying to persuade her brother not to kill the Duke. She suggests that when Rigoletto returns with the rest of the money, they kill him instead. But Sparafucile replies that he is no thief. He suggests that if someone else comes to the house before Rigoletto’s return, that person can die in the Duke’s stead; the body of that man will then be delivered to the jester. Maddalena does not think anyone will be coming in such a storm. But this gives Gilda an idea. Seeing Maddalena weep for the Duke makes Gilda determined to substitute her own life for his. At the height of the storm, she pounds on the door and cries out that she is a beggar in need of shelter. Sparafucile, thinking again of the money, gets his dagger ready. Maddalena opens the door, Gilda rushes in, and Sparafucile strikes as everything goes dark.

The storm has abated. Rigoletto arrives, savouring the moment of vengeance. As midnight strikes, he knocks on the door. Sparafucile informs him that the deed is done and shows him a sack with a body in it, but the killer refuses to give Rigoletto a light by which he can identify the body until he is paid the rest of the money. Sparafucile suggests that they quickly throw the body in the water, but Rigoletto wants to do it himself. Sparafucile takes the money and bids him good night.

Rigoletto is overjoyed at the success of his plan. He is about to roll the body into the water when he hears the Duke singing his theme song from inside the house. He pounds on the door, but no one answers. Then he cuts open the sack to reveal his own daughter. She is barely alive. She admits her deceit but she says that she loved the Duke too much, and now she is dying for him. She begs Rigoletto’s forgiveness and promises to pray for him when she is in heaven with her mother. The grieving father begs her to hold on, but she fades away. Crying out, “Ah! The curse!” he falls over her lifeless body.

Linda Cantoni
Quick Facts

Giuseppe Verdi (born October 9/10, 1813, Roncole, near Busseto, duchy of Parma [Italy]—died January 27, 1901, Milan, Italy) was a leading Italian composer of opera in the 19th century, noted for operas such as Rigoletto (1851), Il trovatore (1853), La traviata (1853), Don Carlos (1867), Aida (1871), Otello (1887), and Falstaff (1893) and for his Requiem Mass (1874).

Early years

Verdi’s father, Carlo Giuseppe Verdi, an innkeeper and owner of a small farm, gave his son the best education that could be mustered in a tiny village, near a small town of about 4,000 inhabitants, in the then-impoverished Po Valley. The child must have shown unusual talent, for he was given lessons from his fourth year, a spinet was bought for him, and by age 9 he was standing in for his teacher as organist in the village church. He attended the village school and at 10 the ginnasio (secondary school) in Busseto.

A little later he composed music (now lost) for the town church and the largely amateur orchestra. One of Busseto’s leading citizens, Antonio Barezzi, a merchant and fanatical music enthusiast, became a second father to the young prodigy, taking him into his home, sending him to study in Milan, and in 1836 giving him his daughter Margherita in marriage. Refused by the Milan Conservatory—he was past the admission age and played the piano poorly—Verdi studied privately with Vincenzo Lavigna, an older composer and an associate of La Scala opera house (Teatro alla Scala). Milan was the intellectual and operatic centre of Italy, and in the years 1832–35 Verdi seems to have learned much about literature and politics there as well as counterpoint and the elements of opera. Later, after his great success with Nabucco, he attended literary salons in the city and made lasting friendships with some cultivated aristocrats.

Barezzi’s plan was for Verdi to return to Busseto as music director, but when this post fell open in 1833 a furious political storm developed leading to long delays. Soured by this, Verdi nonetheless took a compromise position and stayed from March 1836 to October 1838, teaching and composing a good deal, though all he published was a set of songs in 1838.

Needless to say, he had his eye on greater things. The music that he had written during these years must have impressed the right people, for after some difficulty he succeeded in getting an opera, Oberto, conte di San Bonifacio, produced at La Scala in March 1839. Ordinary as the piece may seem today, it succeeded well enough to travel to Genoa and Turin and to gain him a commission for three more operas at Italy’s leading theatre. His rising career was deflected by tragedy: in 1840 his young wife died, following the deaths of two infant children. In addition to this personal grief, Verdi saw his next opera, Un giorno di regno (King for a Day), a comedy, hissed off the stage. This compounded trauma led to a severe depression and either caused or fixed the dour, fatalistic, sometimes harsh aspects of Verdi’s character.

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Early career

Verdi overcame his despair by composing Nabucodonoser (composed 1841, first performed 1842; known as Nabucco), based on the biblical Nebuchadnezzar (Nebuchadrezzar II), though the well-known story he told later about snapping out of his lethargy only when the libretto fell open at the chorus “Va, pensiero”—by that time one of his most beloved works—is no longer credited. (The older Verdi embroidered on various aspects of his early life, exaggerating the lowliness of his origins, for example.) Nabucco succeeded as sensationally as Un giorno had failed abjectly, and Verdi at age 28 became the new hero of Italian music. The work sped across Italy and the whole world of opera; within a decade it had reached as far as St. Petersburg and Buenos Aires, Argentina. While its musical style is primitive by the composer’s later standards, Nabucco’s raw energy has kept it alive a century and a half later.

There followed a period (1843–49) during which Verdi drove himself like a galley slave, as he himself put it, and to the detriment of his health, to produce nearly two operas a year. His aim was to make enough money for early retirement as a gentleman farmer at Sant’Agata, close to Roncole, where his forebears had settled. He purchased land there as early as 1844. To “produce” an opera meant, at that time, to negotiate with an impresario, secure and edit (often heavily) a libretto, find or approve the singers, compose the music, supervise rehearsals, conduct the first three performances, deal with publishers, and more—all this while shuttling from one end of Italy to the other in the days before railroads.

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Though masterpieces were unlikely to emerge from a schedule like this, Verdi’s next two operas were, amazingly, just as wildly successful: I Lombardi alla prima crociata (1843; The Lombards on the First Crusade) and Ernani (1844). The latter became the only work of the “galley-slave” period to gain a steady place in the opera repertory worldwide. His other operas had varying receptions. A list made in 1844 of possible subjects for librettos shows Verdi’s high-minded concern for literary and dramatic values. It included King Lear, a project he would return to and abandon several times in later years. In the 1840s he drew on Victor Hugo for Ernani, Lord Byron for I due Foscari (1844; The Two Foscari) and Il corsaro (1848; The Corsair), Friedrich von Schiller for Giovanna d’Arco (1845; Joan of Arc), I masnadieri (1847; The Bandits), and Luisa Miller (1849), Voltaire for Alzira (1845), and Zacharias Werner for Attila (1846).

Only with Macbeth (1847), however, was Verdi inspired to fashion an opera that is as gripping as it is original and, in many ways, independent of tradition. Just as the biblical theme had contributed to the grandeur of Nabucco, so the tragic theme of Shakespeare’s drama called forth the best in him. Verdi knew the value of this work and revised it in 1865, excising some of its crudities; but its greatest number, the harrowing sleepwalking scene of Lady Macbeth, could be left just as it was written in 1847.

By that time he was receiving lucrative commissions from abroad—from London (I masnadieri) and Paris (Jérusalem, a thorough revision of I Lombardi, 1847). La battaglia di Legnano (1849; The Battle of Legnano), a tale of love and jealousy set against the Lombard League’s victory over Frederick Barbarossa in 1176 ce, was Verdi’s emphatic response to the Italian unification movement, or Risorgimento, which spilled over into open warfare in 1848, the year of revolutions. Greeted ecstatically at the time, this opera later faded.

It is often said that in the earlier operas, too, choruses and other numbers calling for liberation or revolt were taken metaphorically as revolutionary rallying cries, and evidently this did happen on isolated occasions. However, it was only after unification in 1861, when the conte di Cavour, seeking to involve as many important Italians as possible, persuaded the composer to stand for the Chamber of Deputies—which he attended faithfully but soon resigned from—that Verdi came to be widely celebrated as a national hero. “Va, pensiero,” the song of the enslaved Hebrews in Nabucco, assumed the status of an unofficial national anthem. That the vision of Verdi as “singer of the Risorgimento” owes less to historical fact than to patriotic nostalgia should not be thought to diminish its significance; adapted to words about the downtrodden masses, “Va, pensiero” could still be heard at Italian communist rallies in the 1990s.