Most people know never to utter the name of the “Scottish Play” — that is, Macbeth (shh!) — in a theater. But did you know there are equivalent superstitions in classical music? Musicians can be some of the most superstitious people around, S
Opera, like theater, is particularly rife with superstitions, many of which date back centuries. Live opera performance is a high-stress environment with many moving parts, meaning there’s a lot that can go wrong. From staging mishaps and wardrobe malfunctions to memory slips and missed entrances, opera singers need all the luck they can get to make it through a show.
For instance, we all know to say “Break a leg!” instead of “Good luck!” to performers before they go on stage, as wishing good luck is thought to bring the opposite. But opera has its own jargon. You’ll often hear singers say to each other “Toi toi toi!” instead. “Toi” (pronounced like “toy”) likely comes from the German word “Teufel” or devil. Saying it three times is meant to ward off the devil. Another possible etymology is that “toi” mimics the sound of spitting, and sometimes the phrase is accompanied by spitting over your shoulder.
A frame from In the Mouth of the Wolf (Courtesy August Ventura)
In Italian, the common way to wish someone good luck without saying it is to use the phrase “In bocca al lupo,” which means “In the mouth of the wolf.” It likely stems from hunting, where being in the wolf’s mouth would constitute a dangerous situation. The typical response is then, “Crepi il lupo,” or “May the wolf die.”
In ballet circles, as well as some French- and Spanish-speaking countries, you might hear “merde” or “mucha mierda,” which literally means “sh*t” or “lots of sh*t.” Odd as it may seem, there is a pretty straightforward explanation. When people used to travel to the theater in horse-drawn carriages, their horses would naturally leave waste behind. Wishing someone “merde,” therefore, means you hope lots of people come to the show, leaving ample droppings outside the theater.
There are plenty of other traditional “don’ts” in opera. For instance, in Italy it is bad luck to wear purple to the opera because purple is traditionally a mourning color. Purple is also the color worn by Catholic priests during the season of Lent, and theatrical performances were traditionally forbidden during Lent in Italy because they were seen as too frivolous for the solemn religious period.
Another “don’t” is sending a singer an even number of roses to their dressing room. For those who follow flower meanings, a bouquet with an even number is meant to be reserved for funerals and those who are grieving. You do not want your kind gesture to imply that the singer should be mourning their performance!
A tip for performers and those who might find themselves onstage: don’t whistle. Even though you may be tempted to whistle that earworm from the score as you leave rehearsal, doing so is considered a jinx. This superstition is based in some practical wisdom dating back to the early days of theater, when sets started to become more intricate and include moving parts. Theaters would often hire sailors to operate the sets because it involved hoisting large ropes like the ones found on ships. The sailors would then communicate with each other through different whistles that corresponded with certain directives like “lift this,” or “drop that.” Whistling on stage, therefore, could be dangerous.
Luciano Pavarotti as Enzo Grimaldo in the SF Opera’s 1979 production of La Gioconda (Photo: Ron Scherl)
So, we’ve gone over the ways to avoid bad luck in opera, but how do you bring about good luck? Tenor Luciano Pavarotti bought in to one common superstition. He believed that finding a bent nail backstage and keeping it in his pocket would help his performance. In Italian tradition, touching iron is seen as good luck, just as one might knock on wood. Pavarotti gained such a reputation for this superstition that his manager would plant a bent nail where he knew the superstar tenor would find it to ensure he went on stage happy. Stage technicians at the Metropolitan Opera also purportedly kept a container of them backstage.
Now, just as Macbeth is cursed in the theater world, so too are Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca and Giuseppe Verdi’s La forza del destino. Productions of Tosca have seen countless mishaps, largely related to Floria Tosca’s fatal leap. Many sopranos have been injured in the process, including Elisabeth Knighton Printy, who missed the landing pad and broke both legs at the Minnesota Opera in 1993. Another soprano, Eva Marton, suffered a broken jaw when the opera’s villain, Scarpia, played by Juan Pons, accidentally elbowed her in the mouth during a performance at the Met in 1986.
Even Maria Callas, for whom Tosca was a signature role, was not protected from the curse. In a rehearsal at the Royal Opera House in 1964, her wig caught fire on a candelabra when she leaned back to sing a high note. The New York Times reported, “Still singing, she dabbed at the blaze with one hand. Mr. [Tito] Gobbi helped pat out the flames. Miss Callas sang on under her charred wig.”
La forza del destino has an even more checkered past. The premiere had to be delayed for nine months because the soprano hired to sing the lead role of Leonora fell gravely ill, and the opera’s eventual initial reception was tepid. Mishaps have continued to plague the show, including theaters inexplicably losing power and sets falling apart. Most harrowing, however, was when baritone Leonard Warren died of a cerebral hemorrhage on stage while performing in the Met’s 1960 production. He collapsed while singing the aria that begins “Morir, tremenda cosa” (“To die, a terrible thing”). Ever since, some singers, including Pavarotti, have refused to participate in productions of the opera. Tenor Franco Corelli reluctantly agreed to sing the role of Don Alvaro, but he would perform small rituals before and after the shows to ward off the curse.
Opera singers aren’t the only superstitious classical musicians. Composers have had their fair share of quirky beliefs. The most famous of these is “The Curse of the Ninth,” where composers feared their ninth symphony would be their last (as was the case for Beethoven, Schubert, and Mahler, the wariest of the curse). You can read more about the Curse of the Ninth here.
While 13 may be Taylor Swift’s lucky number, it wasn’t so for a few notable composers. Gioachino Rossini and Arnold Schoenberg both suffered from triskaidekaphobia, or a fear of the number 13. Specifically, Rossini was terrified of Friday the 13th, thinking Friday was the unluckiest day of the week and 13 was the unluckiest number. Perhaps he was onto something, as he would perish on Friday, November 13, 1868, at the age of 76.
Arnold Schoenberg (Photo: Florence Homolka, via Wikimedia Commons)
A composer known for his 12-tone compositions, Arnold Schoenberg was superstitious about the number 13 all his life, even though he was born on September 13, 1874. In his scores, he would skip bar number 13 and write “12a” instead. He avoided rooms, floors, and buildings with the number 13, and he even misspelled his opera Moses und Aron (omitting the second “a” in “Aaron”) so the title would have 12 letters instead of 13 letters. In a cruel twist of irony, Schoenberg befell the same fate as Rossini, dying on Friday, July 13, 1951, also at the age of 76. If that weren’t eerie enough, the digits 7 and 6 add up to 13.
The March King, John Philip Sousa, had a completely different superstition concerning performance attire. The Boston Post reported on July 16, 1921, that Sousa bought 1,200 pairs of white kidskin gloves on Fifth Avenue for $5 a piece (equivalent to about $85 per pair today). “Lieutenant-Commander Sousa insists on a fresh pair at every concert,” the article reads. “His pet superstition is that if he wears the same pair to more than one affair hard luck will follow. The kettle drum always breaks, or the man with the basso horn, or whatever the big one is, swallows his cough drop just while reaching high C.”
As we have seen, musicians and composers aren’t above believing in superstitions—or at least abiding by them in the name of tradition. From wishing each other “Toi toi toi!” backstage to avoiding the number 13, these superstitions can offer a sense of control in an otherwise tenuous career. Plus, an extra dose of luck never hurts!
