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EAGLEFIELD-HULL, Mus.Doc. MONTEVERDI CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI [From the portrait reproduced in the “ Fiort Poetict”® (1644), in the possession of the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan.]| 5 MONTEVERDI HIS LIFE AND WORK i i i i i i a i | PPPPLPDLLPLPOLP_P—PO—_—LLOPJ”P—L_LT—L_O_”P™OLP_I BY HENRY PRUNIERES TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY MARIE D. MACKIE WITH NUMEROUS MUSIC EXAMPLES NEW YORK Beebe wT LON .& COMPANY PEPE EEL EEE RRP Dw FOREWORD Tue object of the present volume is to combine the story of Monteverdi’s life with a critical study of his works. In spite of long and patient research in Italian archives, it has been possible to add here relatively little new material to the biography of the Master. On this subject, all that matters has been published long since. The investigations of Padre Caf (1858), Padre Canal, S. Davari (1885), Angelo Solerti, Ademollo, Picenardi, and Emilio Vogel have pro- vided documents which permit of a complete reconstitution of the life of the great musician, and it is in view of such a reconstitution that I have considered Monteverdi as far as possible in relation to the artistic circle in which he moved, among the composers contemporary to him, and that I have dwelt upon the life of the courts and cities in which his passionate life was lived, in which his talent was formed and | matured. The work of Monteverdi has, up to the present, been the subject of fragmentary and specialized studies only. The works of Goldschmidt, Alfred Heuss, Leichtentritt, Vogel, Riemann, Ambros, Kretschmar, and Cesari respec- tively, have borne upon particular aspects of a genius which, ondoyant et divers, is disconcerting in its multiplicity. In my opinion, it is Romain Rolland who, without embarking upon a technical study of the work of Monteverdi, has given us the profoundest judgments of it. With an intuition bordering upon genius, he has entered into Monteverdi’s very soul, and defined synthetically the essential character- Vv vi FOREWORD istics of his art. One can only regret that he should have confined himself to the dramatic works, and that he should have found no occasion to speak of the madrigals, of the sacred music, of the songs and cantatas, which are equally important. I have tried to throw light upon every aspect of Monteverdi’s creative activity. 1 do not pretend, how- ever, to have exhausted so vast a subject. Only a small part of his work has appeared as yet. Of the last collections of madrigals, of the scherzi, the canzonette, of all the religious compositions, only ancient editions in separate parts exist. Frequently these parts are scattered and the tezor has to be copied at Bologna, the superius at Breslau, and so on. | have tried to give an idea of the different styles practised successively or simultaneously by Monteverdi, and I believe that I am the first to make this attempt. Whilst the esthetic ideal of the master varied little, yet his methods were con- tinually modified in the course of time; I have tried to mark the stages of this evolution. Though Monteverdi was incontestably a great inventor of new forms, no one was more sensitive to surrounding influences. Certainly he saw clearly much that some of his contemporaries saw dimly, and achieved what others had scarcely dared to attempt; but it seemed to me necessary, in order the better to explain the true significance of this master, who was without doubt the greatest of Italian musicians, to study his work in relation to that of his con- temporaries and rivals. I hope that those readers who find the critical study of his work too arduous will find some interest in the biography, rich in dramatic events, of a musician who knew the life of courts and camps, and whose great soul laboured under afHiction for many years. MONTEVERDI AT CRE I, Il. CONTENTS PAR EAE Earty YEARS Tue Five Booxs or MapriGALs AND THE SCHERZI PART Il MONA AND MANTUA (1567-1613) 3 a7 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES AT THE COURT OF MANTUA I, II. sane ORFEO ARIANNA AND THE CELEBRATIONS OF 1608 MOoNTEVERDI AND THE GoNZAGA FAMILY PART III MONTEVERDI AT VENICE (1613-1643) Tue CuapeLt or San Marco . Monteverpi’s Sacred Music . Operas AND Court SPECTACLES (1615-1630) From tHe Mapricat to THE Cantata (1615-1638) Tue VENETIAN OPERAS Last Years AND Deatu or MonrTeverpI APPENDICES Notes . CATALOGUE OF MonTEVERDI’s WorKS . Compete List or MOontTEVERDI’s CORRESPONDENCE SELECTED LETTERS FROM MOonrtTEVERDI’s CORRESPONDENCE. BIBLIOGRAPHY INDEX vil 55 72 88 99 109 129 vss 167 190 207 219 7S 231 288 291 RAKE 1 MONTEVERDI AT CREMONA AND MANTUA (1567-1613) ta’ & 7 rs Gen -~ 3 te! dy detyets rs . ; 1 ‘ -—v Ly yal prs A Ps * =e el _ I mane CDhARS 1567-1605 On May 15th, 1567, Baldassare Monteverdi had his first- born child baptized in the church of SS. Nazari e Celso at Cremona, and gave him the names of Claudio Zuan Antonio.* , Baldassare, a doctor by profession, was in relatively easy circumstances, a worthy citizen, a man of culture and authority, devoted. body and soul to the interests of his family, and gifted with a shrewd sense of the value of money. Such, at least, is the impression we get of him in his letters. There were many Monteverdis in Cremona, and it would be hazardous to try to establish bonds of family relationship between all whose names appear in the records of the town, yet it is evident that among his collateral relations and his ancestors, Claudio numbered doctors and musicians, or at least musical instrument makers.} Cremona was celebrated, from the sixteenth century onward, for musical instrument workshops in which all kinds of stringed and wind instruments were skilfully manu- factured. Charles IX of France sent to Cremona for violins for his musicians, and in 1585 the Duke of Mantua ordered wooden trumpets (trombetti di legno) from a maker whose name was no other than Domenico Monteverdi.t The inhabitants of Cremona were renowned for their industry and fine workmanship. They excelled as much in * See Note I. Tt See Note 2. t See Note 3. 3 4 CREMONA AND MANTUA the weaving of delicate fabrics of silk and linen mixed as in the manufacture of violins of perfect shape. The Spanish rule, which weighed heavily upon the town, had not at this time succeeded in ruining its prosperity with taxes, corvées and levies. The severity of the foreign administration was tempered by the influence, temporal as well as spiritual, of Carlo Borromeo, a saint and a man of action, far-sighted and passionately devoted to his country. Attentive to his wise counsel, the Governor of Milan, to whose authority Cremona was subject, refrained from any systematic molesta- tion of the Italians such as was later carried on by the Viceroy Fuentes, who, perturbed by Campanella’s enterprise at Naples, and by the spirit of revolt which was manifesting itself among the peoples of Lombardy, turned the whole of Milan into an entrenched camp, ruining the citizens with crushing taxation, and the peasants with the enforced housing and feeding of his hordes of ruthless and greedy mercenaries. Cremona was destined to suffer particularly from the Spanish exactions. The pride, the courage, the independent spirit of its inhabitants gave cause for anxiety. They gloried in their descent from ancient Roman families, and still looked back to the time when Signor Gabrino Fondulio, finding himself the object of the simultaneous adulation of Emperor Sigismund and Pope John XXIII, had, from the height of the gigantic Torrazo, displayed to these masters of the world the red city of Cremona girdled with high ramparts flanked with massive towers, with its palaces, its churches, its squares, its broad streets, and in the distance the fertile plain covered with rich crops, the vines hanging from the trunks of elm and poplar, the countless mills along the canal-banks, and the villages and castles with white walls gleaming through the verdure. The inhabitants of Cremona, justifiably proud of their town, boasted of the Torrazo, ‘‘ the wonder of Europe,” the EARLY YEARS 5 highest tower in Italy, and even, they said, in the world; of the cathedral in which were preserved the relics of more than one hundred and sixty saints; and finally of the very air they breathed, that aria di Cremona, so pure, so healthy, without its like in Italy. It would seem as though the temple, whose traces are to be seen near the gate of San Michele, erected, according to tradition, by the Romans to the Goddess Fever, had averted from the entire district the pestilence which ravaged the neighbouring provinces.* The Emperor Sigismund had endowed Cremona with a university, the statutes and privileges of which were copied from those of the famous universities of Paris and Bologna. Though fallen from its ancient splendour, it maintained in the town a centre of culture. It was doubtless at this university that Claudio Monteverdi studied the humanities. It is certain that he received a sound education, thanks to which he was able subsequently to read the classics with profit, particularly Plato, whose doctrine was a constant subject of meditation with him. His correspondence shows evidence of a culture remarkable even at a time when musicians were on the whole more lettered than they usually are to-day. He was certainly brought up in good middle-class sur- roundings, where art and letters were held in high esteem. His elder brother, Giulio Cesare, became, like himself, a musician, and this would lead us to believe that Baldassare Monteverdi was not hostile to his sons’ vocation.t For that matter, music was so highly esteemed that there were at that time few professions in which it was possible to acquire so much honour and material benefit. It is extremely likely that Monteverdi was at first a pupil of the choir-school of the cathedral. It was customary at that time for the Maestro di Cappella to teach his pupils not only church-singing, but also the rudiments of counterpoint and * See Note 4. { See Note 5. 6 CREMONA AND MANTUA composition. Monteverdi, moreover, refers to himself as a pupil of the Maestro di Cappella of the cathedral in the titles of his first works. As it happened, his master, Marc Antonio Ingegneri, was one of the foremost of Italian composers. Monteverdi could not have been in better hands, for fiery temperaments, naturally impatient of discipline, require to learn self-control in submission to the strict laws of art, before they can allow themselves by their own mastery to infringe those laws. | There was in Ingegneri something of the man of genius. His true value has gradually been acknowledged since his recognition as the author of twenty-seven responses, wrongly published under the name of Palestrina, which indeed would be worthy of that great musician if they were not written in a style absolutely different from that of the Maestro of Proeneste.* Ingegneri initiated his pupil into the secrets of counterpoint. He taught him to construct a motet and a mass in severe style, as well as to write canzonette, villanelle and madrigals with all the liberties permitted in these forms. At the same time he taught him singing and instrumental music. His reputation was equally great as organist and as violist, and under his direction Claudio soon attained a high degree of technical skill in playing several instruments. At eighteen years of age, Monteverdi published his first works—spiritual madrigals for four voices—and had them : published at Brescia with a dedication to Alessandro Fran- ganesco, a rich citizen of Cremona. ‘This work is dated July 31st, 1583. Unfortunately, only the bass part is extant, and it is not possible to form from it any idea of Monteverdi’s talent at this time. The following year, the Canzonette a tre voci appeared at Venice. In this graceful and popular genre, in which extreme * See Note 6. EARLY YEARS ; liberty of composition was not only tolerated, but to a certain extent consciously cultivated, Monteverdi already gave evidence of remarkable gifts. It was, however, in his first book of madrigals for five voices, published in 1587 by Gardano of Venice, that his budding genius first became manifest. In the title of this book, as in those of the pre- ceding collections, he calls himself the pupil of Marc Antonio Ingegneri, but a perusal of the work soon shows how faithless the disciple was. These madrigals are dedicated to a nobleman of Cremona, Count Marco Verita, who. had patronised the author at his début, as Monteverdi shows in his preface. ‘‘ I beseech my Lord, accept these madrigals as a simple testimony of my gratitude for the favours I have received at your hands. .. . And I can expect for compositions so youthful no other praise than that which is accorded to the flowers of poring, * Whilst this book is permeated with an exquisite atmo- sphere of youth, a study of the works which it contains reveals, as we shall see later, a command of technique, a boldness of composition extraordinary in an adolescent. Monteverdi’s originality develops and becomes more striking in each of the succeeding books of madrigals. He seems, however, to have been preoccupied with the problem of obtaining a settled situation. He went to Milan, and there won general praise for his talent as violist and composer.t In 1590 he dedicated his second book of madrigals to a Milanese amateur, Giacomo Ricardi. It is quite possible that it was during his stay at Milan that Monte- verdi was brought to the notice of the Duke of Mantua, who was always on the watch for genuine talent. In any case, it was in the capacity of violist that he was engaged by Duke Vincenzo in the same year. * See Note 7. t See Note 8. 8 CREMONA AND MANTUA Mantua was at this time disputing with Venice and Ferrara the artistic hegemony of Northern Italy. For two centuries poets, painters, musicians, sculptors, architects had been flocking thither from every corner of Europe, in the certainty of finding honour and material advantage. When Monteverdi entered the service of the Gonzaga family, Duke Vincenzo had been reigning for three years, and had spent much time on the reorganization and extension of his company of musicians. He had inherited from his father, Duke Guglielmo, a veritable passion for literature and the arts, and had become something of a connoisseur. He dabbled in poetry himself, and cultivated the society of artists and men of learning. He liberated Tasso, protected Galilei, attracted Pourbus and Rubens to his court, kept the most famous company of actors in Italy, and, as we shall see, contributed to enlightening Monteverdi upon the true direc- tion of his genius by commissioning him to write musical dramas. Vincenzo was the type incarnate of the princes of the Italian Renaissance, devoted to display, to fétes, plays, balls, ballets, generous and cruel,* assassinating without hesita- . tion any artist who failed them, overwhelming with gifts those who served them well. As a youth, he had been feared for his violence and cruelty. In 1582 his father had even banished him from his territory as the result of the cowardly assassination of the Scottish humanist, James Crichton—l’ammirabile Critonio. Meeting him one night, Vincenzo collided violently against him in the dark; Crichton drew his sword, and they fought. At Vincenzo’s cry, “‘ Hold, Scot, I am the Prince,” Crichton knelt and delivered his sword. Vincenzo took it and plunged it in his heart. ‘Ten years later, Vincenzo had settled down considerably; but not so much as to justify us in agreeing with the historian * See Note 9. EARLY YEARS 9 who finds in his foppish face the mark of a magnanimous spirit. Big and broad, fresh-coloured like a German, with blue eyes, thin hair curling on the temples, his face elongated by a short pointed beard, he was still handsome at nearly fifty years of age, and dressed sumptuously. There was much talk in Italy of his amorous adventures, and of the circumstances of his first marriage, which he had had annulled after some strange machinations. He got on well with his second wife, Eleanora de’ Medici, who was indifferent to his manner of life. He displayed extraordinary ardour in the pursuit of his pleasures. Love or music, the chase or the theatre, painting or alchemy, absorbed him successively. He brought as much diplomacy to bear on the purchase of Raphael’s Madonna ‘from the Canossa as on the acquisition of a province. Like his ancestors, who loved to have their portraits painted on the walls of their palaces with their favourite dogs and horses, he had a passion for these animals. His stables and kennels were famous. He was a great traveller, and visited Germany, France, Flanders, Hungary, Holland and Lorraine. He fought thrice against the Turks. Invariably accompanied by a splendid suite, he traversed Europe in search of pictures to buy, or artists to attach to his court. There was at times something morbid in this perpetual agitation. Rubens’ fine portrait gives him a strange expres- sion. Vincenzo lacked his father’s admirable mental balance. He was surrounded with astrologers and alchemists, to the despair of his wife, who knew that many a foreign court was chuckling over the prince who spent whole nights in breathless pursuit of the great secret. From the moment of his accession, Vincenzo had busied himself in engaging the best musicians of Italy for his com- pany. His Maestro di Cappella was the Dutch Giaches de 10 CREMONA AND MANTUA Wert, who had held the post since 1565. ‘This remarkable composer of madrigals and motets was much appreciated by musicians and highly esteemed by the prince. Yet he had passed through difficult times. ‘The singers under his direc- tion had for years persecuted him outrageously. The most desperate of them all had even conceived the idea of wreaking vengeance on him by seducing his wife.* But time had passed, and the old composer was universally respected when Monteverdi settled in Mantua. Towards 1581 Giaches de Wert had handed over the choir of the ducal chapel of Santa Barbara to his second-in- command, the excellent composer, Gian Giacomo Gastoldi, who, about the time that Monteverdi entered the service of the Gonzagas, was on the point of gaining an immense repu- tation throughout Europe by his charming Bal/eti, or chansons a danser for four or five voices, which could, however, easily be sung by a solo voice with lute accompaniment, or played by instruments for dancing. Few works, towards the end of the sixteenth century, had as great a success. Editions were published in various towns in Italy, France, Flanders and Germany.t Gastoldi was not only an elegant court musician; he had written with equal success a large number of masses, motets, and canticles (/aude). At Mantua, Monteverdi was also in touch with the cele- brated composer of sacred music, Viadana, Maestro di Cappella at the cathedral (San Pietro). The detail is important, for Viadana probably exercised some influence on Monteverdi’s earliest religious compositions. The organist of Santa Barbara at the same period was the composer Francesco Rovigo, who, having studied at Venice under Claudio Merulo, had returned to the court of Mantua after some years in Germany. He died on October 7th, 1597, one year later than Giaches de Wert.f * See Note Io. +t See Note II. t See Note 12. EARLY YEARS II A Cremonese composer, Benedetto Pallavicini, who had been in the service of the Duke since 1582, then became Maestro di Cappella. We was an artist of some eminence who had given proof of his talent by the publication of a large number of sacred and secular compositions. He died on November 26th, 1601. Monteverdi, already Maestro di Camera, succeeded him.* During the whole reign of Vincenzo there was so much coming and going among the musicians that it is very difficult to establish even approximately the membership either of the Cappella or of the Camera. We know that some dozen singers, who numbered among them composers of note, figured on the budget of the Cappella when Monteverdi entered the Duke’s service. He must during some time have been a member of this company. He 1s called cantore by a functioriary of the court, in a letter dated September 23rd, 1594. We know, however, from the dedication of his third book of Madrigals that it was by virtue of his talent as violist that he was summoned to Mantua.{ There was a very large number of instrumental performers at the court. Bertolotti quotes the name of seven violists in the pay of the Duke during the year 1597.8 Occasionally they formed a little orchestra for dancing, but generally they performed alone, or took part in madrigals. Indeed, after 1580 a madrigal was rarely sung a cappella. Most frequently, instruments and voices were combined, the instruments sometimes doubling the voices, sometimes replacing them. On the other hand, it was the exception for an orchestra to play compositions specially written for instruments, a fashion common in France. ‘The Florentine company, the Francesini, formed and directed by a Frenchman, aroused the delighted wonder of the musicians, who confessed that they had never * See Note 13. t See Note 14. t See Note 15. § See Note 16. 12 CREMONA AND MANTUA heard a concert given by a large number of different instruments playing together.* Monteverdi, who was both an instrumentalist and a singer, must often have taken an active part in the performance of his own madrigals, and thus have found himself in continual relations with the Duke’s singers, men and women. The latter formed a large and choice company. Vincenzo was very proud of them, and only permitted them to perform in public on solemn occasions, reserving to himself the pleasure of private performances. : The letters published by Ademollo t+ give us an idea of the extraordinary pains the Duke would take to attract to his court a woman-singer whose talent had been brought to his notice by his correspondents. A treaty with a neigh- bouring state gave him less trouble than the engagement of a virtuosa such as the famous Adriana Basile, who for many years graced his court. The engagement of the exquisite Caterinuccia Martinelli completely wore out all the Duke’s secretaries. It was not enough to have the most satisfactory information about her voice; they must find out whether this child of thirteen years was virtuous and chaste; they had to decide whether Giulio Caccini at Florence, or Monte- verdi at Mantua, should take her training in hand; and, when they had decided for Monteverdi, her itinerary from Rome, her native city, had to be drawn up in the most minute detail. We shall have elsewhere occasion to speak of the principal women-singers of the court in discussing the performances of the Orfeo and the Arianna. Among those who belonged to what Ademollo irreverently calls the musical harem of the Duke was the daughter of one of the violists of the Court, Claudia Cataneo. Monte- verdi appears to have fallen in love with her only a few months after his arrival at Mantua, and married her with Vincenzo’s * See Note 17. Tt See Note 18. EARLY YEARS sone a consent. By her he had two sons, Francesco and Massi- miliano, to whose future he later devoted himself with passionate attention.* A short time after his marriage, Monteverdi received orders to prepare for a long journey. Vincenzo had decided to conduct in person the troops he had raised to the assist- ance of the Emperor Rodolph, who was being threatened by the new Sultan, Mohammed III. Magnificent as ever, the Duke of Mantua was accompanied on this warlike expe- dition by a large troop of courtiers and servants necessary to his habits or his pleasures. Among them were several of his favourite singers. Claudio Monteverdi numbered among his travelling companions the eunuch Feodoro Bacchino, and the bass-singers Serafino Terzo and G. B. Marinoni.t The latter seems to have been his particular friend. At the evening halt, in the Duke’s tent, Monteverdi and his companions would frequently receive orders to perform madrigals, singing and playing their parts on various instruments. We do not know what were the musician’s impressions during the unfortunate campaign of 1576. Rodolph’s army arrived too late to prevent the Turks from taking the fortress of Erlau on the Transylvanian frontier, and finally suffered the heavy defeat of Keresztes, by which the Sultan became master of almost the whole of Hungary. Was Monteverdi present at these battles? Did he hear the groans of the dying on the battlefields, the distant thunder of the cavalry attack? It seems probable. In any case, the fact that he knew camp-life at first hand, that he had shared the fatigue of armed men riding through distant * See Note 19. Tt See Note 20. 14 CREMONA AND MANTUA countries, helps one to understand the heroic and martial spirit which animates certain of his works. On the Hungarian battlefields, he certainly garnered a rich store of impressions, which served him well in the composition of the Combattimento and the warrior madrigals. Before setting out, Monteverdi had taken his wife to Cremona, and left her with his father, Baldassare Monteverdi. The financial situation of the young couple was not brilliant. The musician had a certain position to keep up at Mantua, and was obliged to have a carriage and horses, and men and women servants. His monthly salary was only twelve and a half Mantuan crowns, that of his wife, ninety-four Mantuan lire. During his absence his wife received only half of this meagre salary, and the business of supplying her needs devolved upon the old doctor. The composer himself had had considerable expenses to meet in the course of his travels, and came home heavily in debt. He had, moreover, suffered disappointment in another direction. The old choirmaster Giaches de Wert had died on May 6th, 1596, while Monte- verdi was camping in the Hungarian plains, and the Duke had not considered him for the vacancy, but had immediately given it to his countryman, Benedetto Pallavicini. All that Monteverdi gained from this painful expedition, therefore, was a series of mortifications, so that it was without enthusiasm that he received orders from the Duke, three years later, to accompany him to Flanders. This was no warlike expedition, but a pleasure trip to those wealthy cities from which so many excellent painters and musicians came to Mantua. Monteverdi once more confided his wife to the safe keeping of his father, and set out in the Duke’s train on June 7th, 1599.* Vincenzo and his large escort passed through the high Tyrolean passes to Trent, and thence to Innsbruck. At * See Note 21. EARLY YEARS rs Innsbruck he turned towards Lorraine by way of Basle, and arrived at Spa after a month’s hard travelling. ‘The baths of Spa were famous at the time, and people came from all over Europe to take the waters. Travelling musicians flocked round the springs, singing in all conceivable languages, or playing various instruments. As in our own time, life in certain fashionable watering-places was very gay, and music was one of the favourite amusements of the bathers. Accord- ing to the testimony of the traveller Bergeson, who passed through the town some years later, there were continual concerts, dances, ballets and serenades.* The Duke stayed a good month at Spa, then left for Liége, where he was the guest of the Prince Bishop Ernst of Bavaria, brother of Duke Guglielmo, and like him a great lover of music. On August 21st, Vincenzo reached Antwerp and hastened to visit the studios of well-known painters—in particular those of Rubens and Pourbus—as well as the shops of dealers in curiosities and objets d’art, while the Duke’s secretaries tried discreetly to negotiate the Crown jewels, so as to keep pace with the prodigalities of their sovereign. Only a few days were spent at Antwerp, for the Duke was expected at Brussels, where he was received with ceremony on August 26th. He remained there until September 21st, in the midst of continual fétes given in his honour. It was probably at Spa and at Brussels that Monteverdi came into contact with the new productions of the French school. Giulio Cesare Monteverdi, in the manifesto which prefaces the edition of the Scherzi Musicali, which we shall consider later, emphasises the importance of the Flemish journey in the development of his brother’s talent. Claudio Monteverdi was, he asserts, the first in Italy to practise ‘the French manner of vocal writing in the new style which * See Note 22. 16 CREMONA AND MANTUA. has been much admired during the last three or four years, whether as the accompaniment of the words of motets or madrigals, of songs or arias.” * This passage has always been falsely interpreted. It cannot be assumed that it relates to the French chanson as written by Jannequin or Orlando di Lasso, whose works were well known in Italy. ‘This was a narrative, descriptive and picturesque genre with which the Italians were quite familiar, and they had themselves created vast tone-pictures on this model. | What Monteverdi discovered in Flanders was that music ‘“ mesurée a4 [ Antique”’ which the members of Baif’s Academy in Paris, Claude le Jeune, Thibault de Courville, Jacques Mauduit, Du Caurroy, vied with each other in composing. This new type of music was beginning to be known outside Parisian musical circles. ‘The Flemings were interested in it, and publishers included compositions by Le Jeune and Du Caurroy in their song-books.t Monteverdi was doubtless little interested in Baif’s classical researches, and in his French verse regulated by syllabic quantity, but he was certainly struck by the elegant rhythmic formule of certain chansonnettes mesurées and was inspired by them in his Scherzi Musicah. He probably also heard airs de cour and vaudevilles which attracted his attention. These compositions, in which musicians such as Claude Tessier or Pierre Cerveau excelled, were sometimes rendered by a solo-voice accompanied by the lute,t sometimes performed in the same way as madrigals or chansons by several voices and instruments. Generally a melodic phrase was given out by the soprano, and repeated by the other voices in chorus. These airs, which were written in syllabic counterpoint, must have delighted Monte- * See Note 23. Tt See Note 24. I See Note 25. EARLY YEARS 17 verdi, in spite of the poverty of their harmony, by their rhythmic freedom, and by the beauty of their melodic form. It was a music all in half-tints, of touching simplicity, of supreme elegance. The influence of the airs de cour appears in certain madrigals a//a francese of Monteverdi’s last period, but I think it 1s possible to perceive it in certain accents, in certain turns of the melodic phrases of the Scherzi Musical and of the madrigals forming Books IV and V. The Duke of Mantua also appreciated French music. As early as 1596 he directed M. de la Clielle, one of his Parisian correspondents, to procure him new verses and arias.* Fie was in communication with Jacques Davy du Perron, Bishop of Evreux, a friend of Ronsard and of Baif, and a member of the Académie du Palais, and asked him to contribute verse of his own composition.t It is not astonish- ing, therefore, that Monteverdi should, in the course of his visit to Spa, have heard the most recent compositions of the French school, and should have been influenced by them, as his brother testifies. The very technique of French singing could not fail to attract his attention. It was full-voiced; its abrupt powerful rhythms seemed to him particularly appropriate to express certain effects of terror or anger. He made use of it both in his motets and in his secular work. During the same journey, Monteverdi also had his first experience of the ballet de cour which had been created in Paris in 1581 and was by way of subjugating Europe. The oet Ottavio Rinuccini was the first to introduce it into Italy, and Monteverdi subsequently composed one of the most perfect types of dramatic ballet. He was attracted by the rhythms resulting from the use of dotted notes, so much in favour among the French instrumentalists. * See Note 26. Tt See Note 27. Cc 18 CREMONA AND MANTUA Monteverdi was endowed with an extraordinary faculty of assimilation. He profited by all he had heard on the French borders; his brother tells us that he turned it to marvellous use in his own works. It may seem paradoxical that Monteverdi should have been influenced by French music at the very moment of its decadence. It is compre- hensible that Palestrina should have followed the example of the illustrious Franco-Flemish polyphonists who were his masters, but it might reasonably appear odd that Monte- verdi should owe anything to men such as Du Caurroy, Mauduit, Tessier, who, in spite of their talent, are so vastly inferior to him. Such reasoning, however, implies a misapprehension of the true state of music at the end of the sixteenth century. The art of polyphony, having reached its full development in France and Flanders, had there exhausted itself at the time when in Italy it was in the blaze of glory which preceded its extinction. The problem of the renovation of musical forms had therefore presented itself to French musicians some twenty years before far-sighted minds had conceived it in Italy. Baif and the musicians of his Academy, as steeped — in classical antiquity as were later the members of Bardi’s Camerata, wished to subject French vocal music to the strict metrical laws of Greek versification. ‘They studied the effect of complicated rhythmic combinations, and attempted to apply classical metres to music. Assuming, for example, that the minim and the crotchet correspond to long and short syllables in poetry, it is perfectly simple to create dactyls, spondees, or anapzsts by the combination of a minim and two crochets, of two minims, or of two crotchets and a minim. From these experiments there resulted new and strange rhythms which were entirely independent of the current triple or quadruple time. They also conceived the idea, in common with the Florentine EARLY YEARS 19 musicians, of reviving antique drama; but, instead of render- ing the whole drama musically, as the Florentines did, they composed it of declamatory scenes alternating with songs and dances performed by the chorus. ‘The dramatic ballet owes its origin to the performance of these classical fantasies at a court féte.* As far as music is concerned, all this ardent research resulted in curious monodies decorated with long expressive melismata, exquisite chansonettes, subtle and incisive of rhythm, airs de cour, and narrations de ballet in which the melody tends rather to comply with the sugges- tions of prosody than to fulfil the exigencies of lyrical declamation. | Monteverdi would doubtless have been unable to tolerate the domination of any single personality ; on the other hand, he was profoundly interested in these curious experiments. Though they-could, and did, lead to nothing, he was able to gather some useful material from them. Monteverdi was the more interested in Baif’s reform in view of the fact that it was carried out in a direction quite new to him. In common with Luca Marenzio, Gesualdo di Venosa, and Gagliano, he had sought the salvation of music in an enrichment of the language of harmony, in the reinforcement of its expressive power. Like them, he doubt- less hoped to recapture the spirit of classical antiquity by employing chromatic and enharmonic modes, the beauty of which had been praised by Nicola Vicentino, the theorist of the young school, and shown in practice by Ciprian de Rore and Orlando di Lasso. Claude Lejeune and Mauduit, on the other hand, did not attack the question of harmony. ‘Their counterpoint is very free of dissonances, even when by chance they write in chromatic style, and they concentrated entirely on the relations between poetry and music, which they desired to combine indissolubly. As we have pointed out, a new * See Note 28. 20 CREMONA AND MANTUA form of lyrical monody had been the indirect result of these experiments in rhythm. Some ten years after the experiments of Baif and his friends, the poets, men of learning and artists, who met in Florence at the home of Giovanni Bardi, had conceived the idea of restoring solo-singing to its primitive splendour, as it had been known and practised by the ancients.* Their researches were carried out from a different standpoint from that of the Parisian academicians, who had had no regard to declamation and to tonic accent, but had been solely preoccupied with moulding music on the rhythms of verse; such men as Galilei, Emilio del Cavalieri, Peri, Caccini conceived the problem differently. Their object was to imitate the Greek “spoken song” with the accompaniment of the lyre or of its modern counterpart, the lute. From about 1585 to 1600, Florence was entirely pre- occupied with efforts to restore the antique me/opeia. But the Florentines, who were principally singers and amateurs, were chiefly concerned with melody and contour, while Gesualdo and Monteverdi, who were pure musicians, sought principally effects of harmony and colour. In 1590, Emilio del Cavalieri, in collaboration with Laura Guidiccioni the poetess, produced two little musical pastorals, Il Satiro and La Disperazio de Fileno, which caused pro- found perturbation in the artistic world of Florence. The object of the authors was to prove that a solo-voice could, without the assistance of harmony, express the most diverse emotions and could lead the spectator from sadness to gaiety, from tears to laughter, as the ancients had done, without the help of polyphony; they wished also to demonstrate a new type of solo-singing. Now, the principal part of a madrigal or a chanson had for long past been undertaken by a solo- voice. The point here was to maintain a clear enunciation * See Note 29. EARLY YEARS Oi while singing, a thing quite new at the time, save for certain experiments which had been made within the Florentine eroup, by Vincenzo Galilei, Jacopo Corsi, Giulio Caccini and Jacopo Peri. ‘The latter, whose reputation as a violist had spread throughout Italy, played a most important part in the reform which was being brought about. He set to music Dafne, a lyric drama by the poet Ottavio Rinuccini, which was successfully performed every year from 1594 onwards at the house of a wealthy amateur, Jacopo Corsi, who had replaced Giovanni Bardi after the latter’s departure for Rome. Monteverdi, who between the years 1595 and 1600 was continually moving about Europe, can only have known of the experiments of the Camerata by hearsay, but they must have aroused _ his curiosity. The efforts of these poets, singers and amateurs to realize a purely literary ideal, even though it should involve the sacrifice of the rich possibilities of polyphonic music, could not have found much favour in his eyes. He was at this time occupied with the composition of the admirable madri- gals of Book IV, and, master as he was in the expression of the profoundest human emotions, the most delicate natural impressions, through the medium of five-part music, he must, in common with the majority of the great madrigalists of the time, and particularly Orazio Vecchi, have regarded with something like pity the dreary psalmody of the Florentine musicians. But he was too intelligent not to see the expres- sive effects that could be attained by lyrical declamation moulded upon the spoken word. It is highly probable that Monteverdi was present at the performance of Jacopo Peri’s Euridice with a libretto by Rinuccini on October 6th, 1600. We know that the Grand Duke of Tuscany had this piece ceremonially performed to celebrate the marriage of his daughter Maria de’ Medici with 22 CREMONA AND MANTUA the King of France. Among the many princes who came from all parts of Italy to take part in the celebrations was the Duke of Mantua, brother-in-law of the new queen.* Whether Monteverdi was in his suite is not known, but it is highly probable. In any case, he must have soon been in possession of all the details he required about the per- formance, and, while there is no authorization for believing that he, like Marco Gagliano, at once made common cause with the Florentine musicians, yet a study of the madrigals of Book V, which were composed about this time, shows that he had been profoundly impressed with the stile recitativo, and had tried to put it to original use in his polyphonic work. Recitatives were certainly sung at Mantua during the ensuing years. The famous Francesco Rasi, who had given a superb performance in the Euridice, was a member of Vincenzo’s musical company and had been lent by him for the ceremony.+ It is clear that he continued to sing works composed in the new style. Monteverdi was at the time completely absorbed in the composition of the madrigals of Book V. The remarkable audacity of these works caused their performance to create something like a sensation in musical circles and provoked the fury of the purists and conservatives. Copies, more or less faithful, were circulated, and produced a kind of stupe- faction. It must be confessed that the liberties which the author had taken with traditional rules were of a nature to justify the excitement. In 1600 there appeared at Venice a work entitled L’ Artusi overo delle imperfettioni della Musica moderna. As the title shows, this work was a protest against modernism in music. Its author, Canon Artusi, a talented musician who had a considerable reputation as contrapuntist, posed as the champion of tradition, and lamented the degeneration of the art of * See Note 30. ft See Note 31. EARLY YEARS 23 music. From his point of view, he was perfectly justified. Yet, all the same, he was in error, as are the critics of to-day who believe that music will perish because the rules on which it has been based hitherto are no longer respected. He complains quite justifiably that the new composers—he implies Gesualdo and Monteverdi—are solely preoccupied with delighting “sense’’ and not with satisfying ‘“‘ reason.” It is the eternal quarrel of the intellect and the senses. He deprecates the pride of artists who desire to call everything in question instead of following in the path of the masters— in short, he leaves unsaid none of the commonplaces uttered at all times and in all places by conservative critics. Monte- verdi is not mentioned in this book, but quotations from his madrigals show that he was the main object of Artusi’s attack. Three years later, in 1603, the theorist returned to the charge, and, while repeating his arguments, criticised with singular obtuseness the madrigals of Books IV and V which were being circulated in manuscript. Monteverdi, who had at first taken no notice of these attacks, makes a scornful allusion to them in the preface to Book V. He states that he will publish his reply under the title of Seconda prattica overo perfettione della Musica moderna —a parody of Artusi’s title—and that his object is to show publicly that the composition of his works is no mere question of hazard, but that there exists another system of harmony than that of which Zarlino codified the laws, and that in the matter of harmony and discord the modern composer takes account of other considerations than those which directed the practice of the old masters. ‘They were exclusively preoccupied with structure, with the adjustment of the different parts in accordance with the possibilities of music. Monteverdi might have said that they wrote ‘“‘ pure music.” The moderns seek above all to translate into living expression 24 CREMONA AND MANTUA the emotions suggested by poetry. The former sacrificed the poetic text to harmony. The latter desire that harmony should be the attentive handmaid of verse. Monteverdi himself knows the rules of the old style, and if he infringes them, it is of set purpose. On November 26th, 1601, the Maestro di Cappella Bene- detto Pallavicini, who had been ailing for a month past, died of a malignant fever. Monteverdi immediately wrote to the Duke to solicit the appointment. Recalling Guaches de Wert, who had formerly combined the functions of Maestro di Camera and Maestro di Cappella, he prayed the Duke to grant him the same privilege.* His wish appears to have been granted without delay. A short time afterwards, Vincenzo Gonzaga, who wished to see him permanently established at the court of Mantua, granted him letters of naturalization dated April 1oth, 1602, by which the musician and his descendants were entitled to the privileges conferred by the title of citizen of Mantua.t Monteverdi was now in charge of the intractable company of singers and players. He had to supervise everything, conduct the rehearsals and the private performances in which Vincenzo took especial delight. He had also to compose madrigals at breakneck speed to the words of some favourite poet, or devise music for entrées de ballet of which a brief scenario was given him. Finally, he taught music to the children and young singers. ‘The charming Caterinuccia Martinelli was confided to his care, with instructions to make of her a perfect virtuosa. The salary Monteverdi received for all this work was small, and, forced to keep up a certain appearance at the court, * See Note 32. t See Note 33. EARLY YEARS 25 with a wife, two children, and an expensive house, he was frequently in financial straits. He had to invoke his father’s help, and was involved in continual discussions with the treasurers, to obtain the regular payment even of what was due to him.* As long as he lived at Mantua his letters are full of complaints on this score, and they were certainly made with good cause, since in his subsequent life at Venice he makes no allusion to any difficulties of the kind with the Serene Republic. He lived in Mantua in a perpetual state of agitation and fatigue. Accustomed as he was to the bracing air of Cremona, he found the impure and fever-laden air of the lagoon exceed- ingly trying. The whims of the Duke meant crushing work for him. He worked slowly, and to be forced to carry out in a few days a sudden commission for madrigals or divertisse- ments was torture to him. On several occasions he fell ill from pure exhaustion, and was obliged to go to his father’s house at Cremona to rest. He was there in the month of December, 1604, in a state of profound depression, accom- panied by his wife, who had just borne him a second child.t Medicine, diet, rest—nothing had succeeded in improving his condition. ‘“‘I do most heartily pray your most Serene Highness,” he writes to the Duke, “ for the love of God, no longer to put so much work upon me; and to give me more time, for my great desire to serve you, and the excess of my fatigue will not fail to shorten my life; and if I live longer, I may yet be of service to Your Serene Highness, and of use to my poor children.” It is doubtful whether at this time he was thinking of leaving Mantua, yet his fame was spreading, and he would have had no difficulty in finding generous patrons; but it was not without hesitation that he could leave the service of a prince to whom he had pledged himself. The latter had * See Note 34. tT See Note 35. 26 CREMONA AND MANTUA to give his consent to the termination of the engagement, otherwise the insult shown to the patron was certain to be avenged by death at the hands of some assassin. Monteverdi was in cordial relations with the court of Ferrara. Book IV of the Madrigals is dedicated to the academy of the Jutrepidi of that town. The musician also expresses his gratitude for marks of esteem received from them. He alludes in his letter of dedication to the desire he had in 1597 to have these madrigals performed from the manuscript before Duke Alfonso II. The death of this splendid prince prevented the realization of his project. It will be noticed that Monteverdi was not given to hasty publication. ‘This explains how Artusi could quote in 1600 madrigals which were only printed in Venice five years later. Moreover, Monteverdi says himself that the position of Master of the Musicians was given him by the Duke of Mantua after the performance of Book V of the madrigals, which was only printed in 1605. Monteverdi rightly attached a special importance to this fifth Book. He wished to dedicate it to the Duke of Mantua as his most perfect work; and indeed it is a masterpiece. Polyphonic music here appears in unwonted forms of almost monstrous beauty. The art of the madrigal reaches its supreme expression. ‘The way is closed. Monteverdi was not long in issuing from the impasse in which a man like Orazio Vecchi obstinately remained. Making a complete volte-face, he laid hands on the aristocratic spectacle, invented and laboriously carried out by the Florentines, and turned this humanistic plaything into modern music-drama. Il THE FIVE BOOKS OF MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI Wirn the publication of Book V of the Madrigal a cinque voct in 1606, the first phase of Claudio Monteverdi’s musical activity comes to a close. Before considering the conditions in which he began the composition of the music-dramas, and the way in which he readopted the form of the madrigal whilst transforming it into a cantata for solo voice with thorough- bass, it is essential to consider rapidly the first books of madrigals. These pieces, with their perennial poetry and youthfulness, lend themselves particularly to literary com- mentary, but detailed examination of their structure and technique is necessary in order to appreciate the part played by Monteverdi in the evolution of musical expression. The madrigal originated in Italy about 1530. It was the product of the combination of the traditional motet of the Netherlands with the Italian frotto/a, but the product bore little resemblance to its constituent elements. The frotto/a, popular in spirit, written in homophonic and syllabic counter- point, represented at the beginning of the sixteenth century the reaction of the Italian masters against the excess of science and technical complication favoured by the Northern school. _ Toa certain degree, the frotto/a symbolized the revolt of melody which had been sacrificed to the cult of counterpoint. Famous French and Flemish musicians established in Italy had soon fallen under the spell of this rustic genre, of which the masters were Bartolommeo ‘Tromboncino and Marco Carra; they were glad to abandon the pedantic complications, the infinite =| 28 CREMONA AND MANTUA subtleties rendered necessary by the composition of a mass for five voices on a single given theme, which they had to develop and vary by augmentation and diminution, by every imaginable process until it became absolutely unrecognizable. After the composition of a mass on the theme of L’ Homme Armé or Douce Mémoire which had already served as canto fermo to an incalculable number of different masses, these frottole must have come as a delightful relaxation. ‘The simple harmony, of set purpose rudimentary, and more instrumental than vocal in its nature, accompanied the brief rhythmic melody which was most frequently sung by a solo-voice, the other parts being played on the lute or harpsichord. Musicians such as Adrian Willaert, Arcadelt, and Verdelot, who felt the naive charm of the frottole, were, however, too practised in their art not to conceive more delicate combina- tions. In their search for a new genre which would allow them to throw off the strict obligations involved by the com- position of a mass or a motet, they discovered the madrigal, which was, at the time of the Renaissance, the principal channel of the evolution of musical technique, and an admirable medium of musical expression. From the beginning the madrigal was characterised by the extreme liberty of its structure. “The musician took verses of any metre he chose (generally a five- or six-lined stanza taken from a poem) and treated it either in homophonic counter- point or in a polyphonic style of curious workmanship. ‘The music of the madrigal is much less an end in itself than that of the masses or motets; the poetic text is its raison détre, and the music reflects all the suggestions of that text. The composer does not aim only at transposing into appropriate melody and harmony the prevailing atmosphere of the short poem; he endeavours to paraphrase minutely its ideas and its very language. Long festoons of thirds weave themselves about the “‘ chains of love”’ ; sighs are translated by pauses and breaks = - = . THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 29 in the melody ; the idea of duration, of immobility, is expressed by the holding of a single voice, the others carrying on their parts relentlessly. The voices rise on the words ‘‘ heaven,” ‘“‘heights,’’ “‘ascension”’; they fall on the words “ earth,” “sea,” “‘abyss,” “hell.” ‘The notes scatter in silvery groups round the words “laughter,” “joyous,” “gay.” Finally Sarattyrdom, “*‘sadness,”’ “‘ pain,’’ “cruelty,’’ ‘tears ”’ are expressed by audacious discords and unexpected modulations. This preoccupation with literal translation, with the exact rendering of detail, is peculiar to the madrigal style, and the influence of the new genre on the old forms such as the motet, the chanson frangaise, the mass, can be seen in the use of “ madrigalisms ” which finally created a vast repertory of musical commonplaces on which composers drew unsparingly. The madrigal, as created by Adrian Willaert and Arcadelt, was written in the traditional modes, but, profiting by the _ liberty peculiar to the genre and desiring to enhance descrip- tive effects, certain musicians introduced the use of accidentals which produced modulations then unknown, and prepared the way for the tonalities of modern music and harmonic cadences. Monteverdi was destined to play a decisive part in this transformation of musical language. Monteverdi regarded Ciprian de Rore as his master. ‘This musician was, with Nicola Vicentino, the first to use the chromatic style in his madrigals about 1550. ‘These experi- ments had created a profound impression. At a time when minds were permeated with the memory of ancient music, the innovators justified their experiments by claiming to restore the chromatic and enharmonic modes described in Greek and Latin treatises which had recently been discovered. Zarlino, the champion of tradition, was opposed by Vicentino, whose treatise, L’ Antica Musica ridotta alla moderna pratica (1555), was the breviary of the musicians of the vanguard. Orlando di Lasso practised the new style for some time, and 30 CREMONA AND MANTUA composed some fine chromatic madrigals, but he did not continue in this direction, and seems later to have regarded with distaste the works of his youth. The chromatic style as practised by musicians such as Ciprian de Rore and Ingegneri bears little resemblance to the style now called by that name. Its essential characteristic consisted in the use of accidentals, which were foreign to the mode in which the madrigal was sung. They did not, properly speaking, involve modulation. _Monteverdi’s great achievement was to transform the somewhat incoherent use of these accidentals into a clear method of transition from one key into another. The disciples of Ciprian de Rore were grateful to him for having thus become the pioneer of chromatic music, and hailed him as the father of modern musical language. They spoke much of the harmonic boldness of the celebrated madrigal Calami sonum ferentes, and hailed his reaction against the excessive complications of polyphonic writing. Ciprian, indeed, had concentrated upon preventing the melodic theme from being lost in the inextricable interweaving of the parts. In his music, as in that of Orlando di Lasso, a definite melody is clearly heard through the polyphony. It can easily be isolated and sung by a solo voice, the other parts being played as an instrumental accompaniment. ‘The idea of revealing the melodic line and of allowing the words to be heard was quite new. Adrian Willaert, heir of the Franco-Flemish tradition, had never considered the point, and like his masters had aimed at “‘the perfection of harmony,” to use Monte- verdi’s own words. ‘This was the ideal of a large number of musicians, and Palestrina himself was on the side of tradition rather than on that of the reformers. On the other hand, round Ciprian de Rore rallied themselves the majority of the Venetian and Neapolitan madrigalists who, about the time of the publication of Monteverdi's first book, were seeking to THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 31 make music more melodious and more expressive without, however, sacrificing the rich resources of polyphony. ‘The most brilliant of these musicians were Luca Marenzio, Giovanni Gabrieli, Luzzascho Luzzaschi, Ingegneri, and Don Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa. Ingegneri who, as we have seen, was Monteverdi’s master at Cremona, was, like Ciprian de Rore, striving towards an ideal of melodic beauty and simplicity. Charles Bordes (in his analysis of the Responses of Ingegneri which he attri- butes to Palestrina) has brought out very clearly the novelty of the style of these works.* Everything, he notes, is sub- servient to declamation. The interweaving of contrapuntal patterns is replaced by vertical harmonies, clear chords which permit the words of the dying Christ to be heard by the whole congregation. The master’s regard for declamation is such that he returns to a kind of free diaphony, moulded upon the accents of the spoken word. Monteverdi subsequently _ expressed his approval of his master’s attention to declamation in singing. Although less bold than Ciprian de Rore, Ingegneri was also one of the first to adopt the chromatic style which Palestrina and his rivals had neglected. We shall see the part which chromatic dissonances were to play in the madrigals of Monteverdi. Yet Ingegneri was by no means arevolutionary. All his works, masses, motets and madrigals, betray a great preoccupation with purity of style. Monteverdi, in his youth at least, does not seem to have come under the influence of Giovanni Gabrielli, his con- temporary. He makes no reference to him in the preface of _ the Scherzi Musica. | The similarities of style to be observed in these works can very well be explained by a common cult for Ciprian de Rore and his direct disciples. Monteverdi was certainly much struck by the audacities of Don Gesualdo, who, however, only accumulated dissonances with the avowed * See Note 36. A2 CREMONA AND MANTUA intention of causing astonishment (far stupire). ‘This is the epoch in which extravagance (stravaganza) is regarded as the finest quality in drama. The desire to leave the beaten track, to discover something new, was manifesting itself powerfully then as now. It is possible that Gesualdo con- tributed to eliminating from Monteverdi’s mind the last trace of the respect in which he had at first held the rules of his art, but he served no other purpose. ‘There is to be perceived in Gesualdo no sense of modern tonality. His innovations are an end in themselves; they lead to nothing. Luca Marenzio, on the other hand, being some ten years Monteverdi’s senior, may very well have pointed out to him the way he was to take. ‘This marvellous musician shows a very modern sense of harmonic modulation. ‘The style of his madrigals is very similar to that of Monteverdi's first works, though it is more precious, less haphazard. The preoccupation with the expression of personal emotion is clearly to be seen, and one can even say that the madrigals of Luca Marenzio are already animated by that dramatic sense which is the essential characteristic of the madrigals of Monteverdi. We can say nothing of Monteverdi’s earliest work, pub- lished in 1583, for only an uninteresting fragment has survived. The Canzonette a tre voci published the following year are of the purest classical type. ‘They are divided into two unequal sections, each of which is twice repeated. ‘The melody 1s clearly defined, the rhythm lively and graceful. The last one in the book is delightful. ‘The first phrase is as follows : EXAMPLE I Hor ca-re can zo - net-te Si-cu - - ramente an-dre- te THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 33 The affected naiveté of the verse is not without charm. “Now, dear songs, you will go peacefully, singing joyously, kissing in gratitude the hands of him who shall listen to you.” Monteverdi published these delicious songs at the age of seventeen. His work long bore traces of the fascination he had felt as a young man for this popular form, in which extreme liberty of composition was general. The most severe contrapuntists permitted fifths and octaves in writing villanelle and canzonette for three voices, and obtained new effects by the violation of scholastic rules. Monteverdi took advantage of these liberties in writing his madrigals. In 1587, Gardano of Venice published the first book of madrigals for five voices, a work destined to make Monte- verdi celebrated throughout Europe. On the title-page, as on those of the two earlier collections, the author calls himself the “disciple of Marc Antonio Ingegneri,”’ but a glance at these compositions is enough to show all that divides the disciple from the master. Ingegneri1 had always shown profound respect for the rules of his art. Extremely liberal in his ideas, he had not concealed his sympathy with the new tendencies, but had himself succeeded in combining a varied and expressive style with great correctness. Monteverdi felt none of these scruples. Even in his earliest compositions he cast aside all scholastic prejudice. Ingegneri’s music was like some carefully tended garden; under Monteverdi’s rule, weeds invaded the flower-beds and wild flowers raised their perfumed blooms insolently above the complicated designs of the box-wood. The concision of style and the frequent use of a refrain in the madrigals of the first book recall the style of the can- zonette, but the harmony is much richer and more elaborate. The use of the chromatic style is more timid than in Gesualdo’s or even in Luca Marenzio’s work; the form recalls rather D 34. CREMONA AND MANTUA that of Ciprian de Rore, who, however, never went as far as Monteverdi in the multiplication of dissonances. They arise most frequently from a very peculiar use of retardation in the various parts and of their simultaneous or deferred resolution.* EXAMPLE 2 Monteverdi also makes frequent use of augmented fifths, which produce effects of voluptuousness and melancholy.T EXAMPLE 3 Thus Monteverdi’s technique has already a personal colour in these melodies which proceed by large intervals, with fearless leaps of ninths or elevenths, in his modern sense of tonality, and in his contempt for the rules prohibiting the use of consecutive fifths and octaves, and false relations. On the contrary, he gets effects of extraordinarily expressive power from the violation of these rules. But what is more striking in this first collection than any technical detail is the bubbling life, the youthful vigour which permeates them, the intelligent paraphrase of the text by the music, which discreetly emphasizes all the important details yet preserves a marvellous coherence. ‘There is in this book no trace as yet of the dramatic feeling which inspires the subsequent collections. The three last madrigals, which form a trilogy, 4rdo si, ma non amo; Ardi o gela; Arsi e alsi, would have lent themselves to dramatic treatment; they are, in point * See Note 37. Tt See Note 38. THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 35 of fact, the weakest in the book, and Monteverdi maintains throughout the lyric style. The second book, published at Venice in the following year (1590), shows considerable progress on the first. The twenty- one madrigals it contains are perceptibly more developed, and have lost that resemblance to the chansonnette which character- ized such pieces as Se pur non mi consenti, Filli cara et amata, Fu mia la pastorella, ‘There is indeed, only one piece, S’ andasse Amor a caccia, which, in its swift grace, recalls the manner of Jannequin and Lasso. ‘The whole collection is astonishing in its variety. By the side of madrigals conceived along tradi- tional lines such as Donna nel mio ritorno, there are others perfectly original in style such as the delightful Now son in gueste rive with its bold modulation from C to E major and its consecutive descending fifths, EXAMPLE 4 iii ee ee Gar 6 eS eS or such as Nox si levava Lf alba, which ends with the repetition of the original melody adapted to different words, and thus anticipates the aria da capo. Certain of the madrigals are markedly polyphonic in form; others, on the contrary, are written in homophonic style, with vertical harmonies. We feel that the composer is no slave to theory, but a musician guided by inspiration or fantasy, reserving to himself the right of observing or violating rules according to his desire and the object he aims at. For him the end justifies the means, and the essential is to suggest powerfully to the hearer feelings and impressions. Like all the contemporary madrigalists, even like Bach and ; 36 CREMONA AND MANTUA Rameau, who came a century later, Monteverdi interprets the metaphors of the text by appropriate melodic figures. The rising sun which gilds the mountain-tops inspires him thus : EXAMPLE 5 The doli legami are translated by chains of thirds, and the line Facendo mille scherzi e milli giri is sung to a phrase in which a rapid succession of notes brings to the mind the swift movements expressed in the text. This literal interpretation of ideas and words seems puerile to us to-day, but it was the idiom of the epoch, and, without wishing to attach particular importance to Monteverdi’s use of the current vocabulary, it would be idle to attack him on that ground. Such literal interpretations, moreover, did not prevent Monteverdi from trying to render the spirit and the atmosphere of the poem. The finest madrigal in the book, Ecco mormorar Ponde, is characteristic from this point of view. It is permeated with a pastoral atmosphere of delicious coolness. The brook is babbling, birds are twittering, the air is exquisitely clear. This is no rough objective description ; it is the delicate suggestion ofamood. Scenes similar in inspiration are to be found later in the operas of Cavalli and Lulli, but there the orchestra plays the part here confided to the voices. In this madrigal, the supple thirds unrolling above the voices recall those phrases for muted strings which, in Lulli’s work, enchant the sleeping hero on the bank of the murmuring brook. EXAMPLE 6 a 2 Ger es See Re BAT ee BH 4 : 5 THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 37 And how profound is the impression of mystery, of awaken- ing nature, which is given by the opening of this madrigal, when tenors and basses murmur Ecco mormorar I’ onde while the other voices repeat the phrase in echo ! EXAMPLE 7 Ec-co mor-morar l'on - de In the admirable’ Non m’é grave il morire the tragic chords which support the melodic phrase Lagrimar per pieta already anticipate the dramatic style of the Orfeo. The third book, published in 1592, contributed consider- ably to Monteverdi’s reputation, and eight reprints are known to have been made between 1592 and 1622. As far as har- mony is concerned, there is nothing specially new in the book, and historians who have noted as an innovation the use of suspensions in the beautiful madrigal Stracctami il core show that they have not taken the trouble to read his two first books. It is true that Monteverdi has accumulated in this madrigal, which is in very free fugal style, all possible harmonic innova- tions, so that Padre Martini was able to quote it as a peculiarly typical example of his madrigal writing. In this madrigal Fétis has noted with dismay “ the double dissonances produced by the suspension of the ninth and fourth, of the ninth, seventh and fourth, and of the fourth and sixth resolved on the fifth” at the words Non pud morir d’ Amor. 38 CREMONA AND MANTUA EXAMPLE 8 non puo mo - fir d’A - - mor al - - ma fe-de - - le In this book there are as yet no chords of the seventh or ninth taken without preparation, and yet as Fétis, the first to throw light on Monteverdi’s part in the modal revolution, has pointed out, the characteristic quality of modern tonality is already defined in it by the frequent use of the harmonic relation of the fourth and seventh, which thus acts as leading note, finding its resolution on the tonic. ‘“* Now it is pre- cisely this relation of the fourth degree and the leading-note, i.e. of these cadences which distinguishes modern tonality from plainsong, in which no other resolutions were necessary than those of the optional dissonances produced by suspension.” While the harmonic structure of the third book differs little from that of the preceding collection, the same is not true of the way in which the parts are disposed. Progressions by consecutive thirds and sixths, which were the exception, are frequent. The author tends to lay increasing emphasis on one part—soprano or alto—as though it had been written for a solo voice, the others accompanying it in the same way as instruments. ‘This distribution is very remarkable in the two magnificent madrigals O Primavera, giovenih de P anno and Perfidissimo volto, which are animated ue a concentrated and profound passion. There is obvious attention to clarity of enunciation. Whilst the Plainte d’Armide abandonnée presents characteristics of liturgical psalmody rather than of dramatic declamation, recalling thereby Orlando di Lasso’s Plainte de Didon, yet in THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 39 several madrigals there are melodic phrases almost recitative in character. This would lead one to suppose that, whilst following a different direction, Monteverdi was nevertheless in close touch with the experiments of the Camerata Bardi. EXAMPLE 9 f “a * Vatte — nepurcru — del conquel-la pa’ - ce che . lascia’ me We are obliged to lay special emphasis upon the technique of Monteverdi’s madrigals, but it must be noticed that he never stands out as a stylist. He never appears to have attempted, as Gesualdo did, to astonish his hearers with inven- tions, with freaks in the matter of harmony. His only object is to express as intensely as possible the passions which agitate the human soul. From this time onwards he is a master in the art of interpreting in music the most complex, the most varied emotions. The fourth book appeared in March 1603, but the madrigals which it contains had been composed some time before, since several of them were criticized by Artusi in 1600. Artusi’s attack has given rise to some astonishment. It has been remarked that there are to be found in the work of Luca Marenzio, whose authority he invokes, the same bold dis- sonances resulting from retardations, the same chromatic passages, the same modulations. That is quite true, but what revolted Artusi was doubtless not so much the violation of traditional rules—false relations, augmented fifths, and ninths —as the absolute novelty of Monteverdi’s very conception of the madrigal. Up to that time the genre had been essentially vocal in character. The most revolutionary madrigals of 40 CREMONA AND MANTUA Gesualdo or Marenzio are obviously written for voices. Monteverdi, on the contrary, from the fourth book onwards, seems to have composed his madrigals for instrumental performance. It must be confessed that it would be extremely dificult to sing certain madrigals of Book IV. It is no easy matter to find three voices capable of singing in perfect tune passages such as the following, which are chosen from a host of similar passages: EXAMPLE I0 Madrigals such as Sfogava con Je stelle, or A un giro sol, look far more like fantasies for viols (such as Frescobaldi might have written) than madrigals intended to be sung by human voices. Indeed, in the first, there is a strange effect of vocalization in which the voices are treated as instruments. The lilt of the dotted notes recalls the French airs de ballet which Monteverdi had heard in the course of his journey in Flanders. EXAMPLE II In the second, vocal passages, in broad undulations in thirds, represent the waves of the sea exactly in the same way as operatic composers, half a century later, did in writing for the orchestra. The form of the madrigal can be seen breaking got, MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 41 up in all directions. It already contains the orchestra, anti- cipates the cantata for solo-voice, and foreshadows the great dramatic narrations of the Opera. We, who know the result of these intuitions of genius, cannot sufficiently admire such prophetic compositions, but we can understand the stupe- faction of Monteverdi’s contemporaries. ‘These madrigals are magnificent works, but they are simply not madrigals. It would be idle to examine individually the twenty mad- rigals of Book IV, in view of the profound technical analysis made by Dr. Leichtentritt. ‘The impression of splendid barbarity given by the first books is reinforced. Emotions are expressed with vehement power, instincts run wild. Nothing could be stranger than the contrast between the insipid text, in which the dying flames, the sweet bonds of Love, are celebrated in choice language, and the brutality of the musical expression. In Si ch’ io vorrei morire, the poetic text expresses an impudent gallantry, the music is permeated with a sensuous ecstasy which would be disconcerting if one did not have in mind the atmosphere of voluptuous passion in which Monteverdi lived at the court of Mantua. The fifth book of the madrigals (1605) is one of the first works of the kind published with the addition of a basso continuo, optional in the case of the first thirteen, obligatory in the last six. [Thus we can see how the new genre was defi- nitely developing in the direction of the new forms, the aria and cantata. | From the harmonic point of view, this book contains an innovation which was destined to revolutionize music. For ‘the first time, chords of the seventh and the ninth are taken without preparation and determine a tonal cadence. We can feel Monteverdi’s delight in his discovery, for he multiplies such cadences. 42 CREMONA AND MANTUA EXAMPLE 12 ‘“In taking without preparation the dominant seventh and ninth, the sritone, the diminished fifth and the minor sixth,” observes Fétis, ‘“‘ Monteverdi completes the trans- formation of tonality and not only gives music expressive and dramatic power, but creates a new system of harmony.” ‘This new use of the seventh caused considerable surprise to his contemporaries. ‘“‘ Our ancient masters,’ writes Artusi, “never taught that sevenths could be employed so syste- matically and without preparation.” It is doubtful whether Monteverdi realized the significance of his discoveries, for his prefaces and letters contain no allusion to his very original conception of harmony. He seems to have been directed by pure intuition in this renovation of musical language. Throughout this book, Monteverdi appears obsessed with the question of dramatic style. We noticed in Book III some examples of lyric declamation. Recitative is fre- quently to be found in Book IV; it dominates the whole of Book V. It is a curious situation. Monteverdi refuses to reject deliberately an antiquated genre by following the example of such men as Emilio del Cavalieri, Peri, Caccini, THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 43 Sigismondo d’India in composing arias for a solo-voice with asso continuo, yet profits by their creations in the style of the Florentine monody when writing madrigals for five Voices. Monteverdi was profoundly interested in the experiments of the Camerata, but he was too essentially a musician to resign himself to an impoverishment of music. The Floren- tines meant to clear the ground entirely before creating their new style. On the pretext that polyphonic writing prevented the poetic text from being distinctly heard, and thus annihi- lated. poetry, they wished to replace an art of incomparable richness by a new art, pure in line certainly, but despoiled of everything which had once made the beauty of music. Monte- verdi, with a Venetian passion for colour, could not adapt himself to the linear style of the Florentines. In this he was certainly of the same opinion as Orazio Vecchi, Banchier1 and a host of other eminent composers of the time. Moreover, the use he makes of the s#i/e recitativo in his madrigals for five voices must have seemed like sacrilege to the Florentine purists who were preaching a return to ancient simplicity with the faith of sectarian iconoclasts. In short, he remained faithful to the ideas of his master Ingegneri as regards the necessity of preserving the intelligibility of the words, but took advantage in setting them to music of the style, intermediary between speaking and singing, which was being practised by the innovators. The madrigal O Mirti//o was certainly conceived by Monte- verdi in view of execution by a solo-voice. This becomes obvious if the madrigal is arranged as shown in Example 13, no change being made in the motion of the parts. One obtains thus an aria for solo-voice such as those which Caccini and Sigismondo d’India were then popularizing, in which the Florentine recitative softens, becomes melodious and tuneful. 44 CREMONA AND MANTUA EXAMPLE 13 BE ESAS LAT FS PRET DEES) a ee ee ge ee iia a .. EES S e * A RAE 2" re 7 a — —el | X_5 LT AES CTE DE TE I CISA SORE NEE fy WSR ee quiden - - trocomestailcor di ques - -- ta Ngta: 7 2 oy ob eal 6 F Boy ee a af? —?- 7 2 oe ee ee eee 2 wre. ee ee SIRE ESOS EE A (hed HES ERSUEARARNROS DESDE RE Gi he Fo GS ee Monteverdi’s dramatic style, which later made the Orfeo, can be perceived throughout this collection. Here and there can be found those passionate exclamations, those melodic intervals of the diminished seventh which he uses so frequently in his opera. ‘The drama is obviously becoming an obsession with him. ‘The general impression of the first four books of madrigals is distinctly lyrical, the fifth, on the contrary, is entirely dramatic. ‘The madrigals Ecco Silvio, Ma se con la pietd, Dorinda, Ecco pieghando le ginocchie a terra, Ferrir quel petto Silvio are taken from Guarini’s Pastor Fido and are con- nected so as to form a dramatic action to madrigalesque music. There was nothing particularly daring about this attempt. The general preoccupation with drama was so powerful at that time that there was a large number of musicians, hostile to the Florentine reform, who treated scenes from pastorals and comedies in polyphonic style. In 1600 a pastoral set to THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 45 music in four parts by Guasparre Torelli had been published — at Venice under the title J Fidi Amanti,* and the inveterate fidelity to this system, maintained by Orazio Vecchi and his disciple Adriano Banchieri, long after the triumph of the monody was assured, is well known.t Indeed, why Monte- verdi continued to write in the madrigal style remains some- what obscure. Narrations and dialogues are all important, the other parts being reduced to the rdle of accompaniment. Why, therefore, did he not simply write solos with orchestral accompaniment ? ‘The scene in which Dorinda throws herself at Silvio’s feet and implores him to strike her with the arrow she offers him (No. 7) belongs to drama, not to the madrigal. The very fact that he wrote a thorough-bass part intended for instrumental accompaniment proves sufficiently that Monte- verdi was no longer at his ease in the madrigal a cappella. The madrigal Ahi come un vago sol is the prototype of those two-part cantatas with thorough-bass which were to be so frequent in seventeenth-century music. The two tenor voices sing accompanied by the dasso continuo, and the soprano voices intervene only at infrequent intervals to execute melodic figures which could very well be played by the violins. The principal voices are treated as solos, as later in the operas and cantatas. The last piece of the collection forms a contrast with those which precede it. It is a vast composition in nine parts, written in the purest Venetian style as popularized by Giovanni Gabrieli. ‘The voices are divided into two choruses supported _by the bass. ‘These choruses answer each other in canonical imitations and are united in a powerful finale. The style and the broad well-marked rhythm of the madrigal Quest vaghi concenti reappear in the choruses which open and conclude the operas of the Roman school. In the fifth book of the madrigals, taking it all in all, music * See Note 39. t See Note 4o. 46 CREMONA AND MANTUA reaches its highest levels, but I do not think that one can assume, as has often been assumed, that the genre here finds its perfect and definite expression. The true models of the madrigal style are to be found rather in the work of Luca Marenzio. Monteverdi never considered the madrigal as an end in itself, but as a means of reaching a new ideal, which he but dimly perceived, and which defined itself more and more clearly, namely, dramatic expression. But the madrigal, which is essentially a lyric form, could not resist such efforts. In the hands of the maestro of Cremona, it broke up; but from its ruins were created new musical forms, arias, duos, cantatas, which Monteverdi later incorporated in the lyrical drama. It was about 1660 that Monteverdi composed the Scherzi Musical, a work destined to contribute more than any other to his popularity, at least during his lifetime. According to his brother, who prefaced the Venetian edition of this collection, published in 1607, with an interesting manifesto, he made use in it of that canto alla francese which he had heard in Flanders and which was destined to become popular throughout Italy. The term is vague. Whilst it is quite true that the name was generally applied to a certain manner of singing with the full voice, powerful and abrupt, and to a certain rhythmic process consisting essentially, as M. André Pirro * observes, of a binary grouping of the notes in the cadences, yet it is also clear that Monteverdi brought from his Flemish voyage, with other foreign habits, a truly original manner of composition peculiar to the Parisian school. If, indeed, one takes the pains to score the Scherzi Musica without dividing the melody into bars, placing the verses one below the other, it will be recog- nized that these songs were composed on metric plans in the * See Note 41. THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 47 same way as the chansonnettes of Baif set to music by Claude Le Jeune, Du Caurroy or Mauduit. Monteverdi, who was most profoundly influenced by humanistic ideas, and who was at the time seeking in Plato and the Greek philosophers a solution to the problems which he could not solve with the sole assistance of the theorists of musical art, could not fail to be interested in the French re- searches. Plato had taught him that rhythm, together with melody, was the very essence of music. Up to that time he had concentrated his efforts principally upon melody, and upon harmony considered as a powerful means of expression. He had somewhat neglected rhythm, the marvellous effects of which had been praised by the ancients. In Flanders, he found himself suddenly in the presence of artists who, while they were no less in love with antiquity than himself, were attempting to combine closely poetry, melody and rhythm, so that, from the strictly musical point of view, there was much to interest him permanently in these perfectly new rhythmical formule, so arresting and original, which arose from the application of verse-metres to music. EXAMPLE I3A C’estun a-mant, ouvrez la por - - te, . Il est plein d’amour et de foy que fai-tes-vous, estes vous mor - te? Non vous ne l’es = tes que pour moy. It was as musician much more than as poet that he appreci- ated this French musique mesurée. He did not attempt to compose airs to Italian poetry written in antique metres, 48 CREMONA AND MANTUA although a good deal of it existed. In common with a large number of French musicians,* he preferred to take rhymed stanzas and to deduce from the general rhythm of the verse a metrical formula to which he adapted the melody. Monteverdi, who had always affirmed his predilection for symmetrical repetitions, for the strict development of sequences, for the basso ostinato, felt a lively pleasure in composing instru- mental chansons and ritorne/li on constantly recurring rhythmic formule of great simplicity. Sometimes, however, he delighted in more subtle metrical combinations, but it is rare for him to compose the music of each verse according to a different metrical plan, as Claude Le Jeune or Mauduit did. With the exception of a single piece, La Violetta, which is a canzonetta of classical form, all the three-part Scherzi are constructed on preconceived rhythmic plans, and Monteverdi scarcely ever allows himself any liberties with the rhythm. It would be vain to seek his models elsewhere than in France. On the contrary, one has but to glance at the airs mesurés of Mauduit, of Caurroy, Le Jeune, Courville and their companions to recognize the affinity.t SS EXAMPLE 14 Ail-le con-tem-plant et la grace et les traits Fa che ca-da la ru-gia-da Qu’il trou-ve por-trais _ Dis-til-la-ta di ru-bi-no French influence is also evident in the harmonic structure * See Note 42. { See Note 43. Peseta DRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 49 of these three-part songs: the counterpoint is syllabic and dissonances rarely appear. There is not a shadow of an imita- tion. Monteverdi rejects the dissonances, the false relations, the chromatics, from which he obtained such powerful effects in his other works, particularly in his madrigals. He seems principally concerned with rhythmic precision and grace. It must, however, be recognized that the melodic inspiration of these charming pieces owes nothing to France. Their form is entirely Italian. As in the French airs de cour, the form of the Scherzi is strophic, the same melody serving for several stanzas. Each repetition is preceded by an instrumental ritorne/lo in three parts, about equal in length to the chanson which it precedes. It is constructed on the melodic theme of the Scherzo, and follows, although freely, a preconceived rhythmic scheme. Monteverdi shows here his love of the sequence which he uses in a kind of thematic development. The bass marks the rhythm to which the other parts conform more freely. Occa- sionally the bass repeats the same figure several times in succes- sion, and only indulges in some liberties towards the end. A note printed as an introduction to the work states that each ritornello was to be played twice before the entry of the voices, and once between each verse by two violins, and a chitarrone or harpsichord. ‘The first stanza was to be sung in three parts to the accompaniment of violins which doubled the voices. ‘The second.stanza could be sung by a solo voice, and the last stanza was to be sung, like the first, in three parts. The collection of the Scherzi Musicaii concludes with a Balletto, a suite of songs in dance-rhythms preceded by an instrumental introduction. It is an interesting example of the Suite, and there seems to be little doubt that the author was inspired in this composition by the suites of dances of E 50 CREMONA AND MANTUA varied rhythms which composed the French ballet. The instrumental piece which opens the divertissement is entitled Entrata. It is the classical entrée of the French ballet, and is followed by danced chansons which differ in key and in rhythm. There are to be seen successively a Pavane, a Galliarde, a Coranto, a Volte a 3, Allemande, and a Gigue a 3. But the question arises as to whether these dances are actually Monteverdi’s own work, or that of his brother, Giulio Cesare. Their rather meagre structure tends to confirm the latter assumption. It appears that, in spite of the great success of the Scheres Musical, proved by the number of published editions, Monte- verdi’s intentions remained obscure for a large number of his auditors, who were disconcerted by these pieces sans mesure réglée, which were sung according to syllabic quantity in the French manner. ‘The pedant Artusi returned to the charge, and under the pseudonym of Antonio Braccino da Todi published at Venice in 1608 a pamphlet entitled Discorso secondo musicale * which was intended to confound his adversary. ‘What is there to say of these Scherzi Musical,” he cries, ‘ save that their author knows nothing about time nor about the signs he employs to indicate it? The three songs, O Rosetta, Damigella and Clori Amorosa, in particular, have, on paper, the same time, the same signature, but the melodies obey different rhythms. If the time noted for the two first is correct, then it is false for the third. Whatever Monte- verdi may do, or claim to do, he has proved that he knows nothing of musical proportion.’’ Further on, he notes that Monteverdi, having used the “C” time-signature, has not hesitated to put three minims in a bar. If Artusi had con- sulted the musique mesurée of the French masters, he would have seen that they also used time-signatures to indicate nothing more than the prevailing rhythm of the piece. For * See Note 44. THE MADRIGALS AND THE SCHERZI 51 want of this knowledge, Artusi was astounded by these successions of crotchets and quavers which cannot be reduced to simple time, save by constant alteration of the time-signa- ture, and wondered by what aberration people could hail as a man of genius a musician who was incapable of distinguishing triple from quadruple time. jeselvele IGE THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES AT THE COURT OF MANTUA I THE ORFEO Tue Duke of Mantua, Vincenzo Gonzaga, had, as we have seen, been present at the celebrations in Florence in 1600 on the occasion of the marriage of Maria de’ Medici and Henry IV. Giulio Caccini’s Rapimento di Cefalo, with a libretto by Chiabrera, and Jacopo Peri’s music to Rinuc- cini’s poem Euridice, had won him over to the cause of musical drama. His sons shared his feeling. The hereditary prince, Francesco, was passionately fond of the new style, and Ferdinando Gonzago, the future Cardinal, then a student at the University of Pisa, himself composed libretti which he set to music. We know from the correspondence between the two brothers with what interest they followed the evolu- tion of the new dramatic genre. While Emilio del Cavaliere was having his oratorio La Rappresentazione di Anima e di Corpo performed in Rome, while, following his example, Agazzari, Quagliati, Landi, Kapsberger and other eminent Roman musicians were attempting to put the szle recitativo into practice, there had been successfully performed in Florence a musical comedy, E morti et i vivi, a revival of the Dafne and, on December sth, 1603, Caccini’s Euridice composed to the libretto which had already been set to music by Jacopo Peri.* The new style seemed already to be congealing into formule. It was in vain for Caccini to adorn his frigid melopeia with melismata and embellishments * See Note 45. 55 56 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES moulded upon the accentuation of the words, it but rarely offered organized melodic periods, profound dramatic feeling.* The few expressive songs to be found here and there in the musical dramas of Caccini, of Peri, of Cavaliere only accen- tuate their general meagreness and the monotony of the melopeia which drags its slow length along above the thorough- bass. ‘The enthusiasm of the public can only be explained by the novelty of the undertaking and the incomparable talent of the performers. As early as 1603 the Duke of Mantua was preoccupied with the introduction of musical drama at his court. He engaged a large number of artists, the youthful Roman Caterinuccia Martinelli, whom he handed over to Monte- verdi, and the Neapolitan harpist Lucrezia Urbana. He already had in his service excellent women-singers capable of performing the new music, in particular the famous Jewess surnamed Madama Europa, sister of the composer Salomone de Rossi, himself in the service of the Duke in the capacity of violist, and Sabina, pupil of the great singer Francesco Rasi, who had played the principal réle in Peri’s Euridice in Florence in 1600. In January 1607, Vincenzo besought the Grand Duke of Tuscany to lend him Giov. Gualberto Magli for a fortnight. ‘This famous castrato had been trained by Giulio Caccini and excelled in recitative. On February 23rd, 1607,f Prince Francesco hastened to communicate to his brother, who was retained at Pisa by his studies, the following important piece of news: “ There will be a performance to-morrow of the piece which was sung in our Academy. ‘This is thanks to Giov. Gualberto, who has behaved very well, having not only learnt the whole of his part by heart, but performed it in the most graceful and touching fashion, so that I am entirely satisfied with him. As the libretto has been printed, in order that each spectator * See Note 46. t See Note 47. “ORFEO’ 57 may have it in his hands while the piece is being sung, I am sending you a copy of it.” This was the libretto which Monteverdi had just set to music—the Orfeo. We do not know in what circumstances Monteverdi composed the score of the Orfeo to a libretto by the poet Alessandrio Striggio, secretary to the Duke and son of the famous madrigalist. Prince Francesco seems to have played an important part in the affair.* Indeed, it is to him that the printed score was dedicated. The Orfeo was performed under his auspices, during one of the meetings of the Accademia degh Invaghiti which were held in the Royal Palace. It was quite a private, experimental performance, to which were invited only the intimate friends of the sovereigns. ‘The success was decisive. The hereditary prince announced it to his brother in the following terms: “The piece was performed to the satisfaction of all who heard it. And indeed, My Lord the Duke, not satisfied with having been present at the performance, and with having heard numerous rehearsals, has ordered another performance, which will be given to-day in the presence of all the ladies of the town, and it is for this reason that Giov. Gualberto is still here. He has done very well, and given great pleasure to all by his singing, and especially to My Lady the Duchess.” This letter, with another addressed to the Duke by the poet Dom Cherubino Ferrari, who writes, after reading the score, that no better rendering of human emotion could be con- ceived than that given by the poet and the musician, consti- tute all the strictly contemporary records of the success of the Orfeo which have been preserved. Yet that success was considerable. Monteverdi’s work was, at the instigation of the Duke of Mantua, performed two years later in Turin, and perhaps in Florence. A concert performance was given * See Note 48. 58 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACEEsS at Cremona, and doubtless in other towns. ‘The score printed at Venice in 1609 was reprinted in 1615. The Orfeo is incontestably the masterpiece of the Riforma Melodrammatica. Monteverdi masters the Florentine system, penetrates its defects, realizes its possibilities. Like Vecchi, he sees that it is unnecessary to enslave music to poetry, that music can be itself a kind of true poetry, capable of expressing emotion as truly as words. The great achievement of the ancients had been to awaken emotion, and Monteverdi, having often tried to reach this end in his madrigals, attains it magnificently in the Orfeo. He adopts the form of musical drama invented by the Floren- tine Camerata, but enriches it with a host of technical details borrowed from the Italian madrigalists and organists, and from the French composers of airs de cour and ballets. In point of fact, the Florentines fought shy of music. They concentrated on sequestrating it, on preventing it from “ destroying poetry.”” Monteverdi does not fear it, because he is its master. He thinks that it should play an important part in drama. While Marco da Gagliano, himself a thorough- bred musician, inspired rather by the experiments of Caccini, seeks to render the drama more musical by multiplying canzonette and choruses in madrigal style, Monteverdi follows rather the example of Jacopo Peri and of Sigis- mondo d’India, and gets to grips with the recitative itself, rather than with accessory details. At the same time, by an inspiration of genius, and influenced by the prestige of the French ballets in which instrumental music played an important part, he brings into play all the resources of the orchestra in order to express emotion. One cannot say that Monteverdi was an inventor of musical forms to the same “ORFEO’ 59 degree as Jacopo Peri, Emilio del Cavaliere, or Caccini, but he was able to turn all their discoveries to advantage and to create the masterpiece they had vaguely conceived, but which their own genius was powerless to create. Striggio’s tragedy is closely akin to the pastoral genre illustrated by Rinuccini and Chiabrera, and, in common with the latter, the author lays himself open to criticism by his stile gonfiato, by the conventional majesty of his verse, and by the insipidity of his mythological intrigue. But Monte- verdi was capable of so making this poem his own, of so “warming it with the flame of his music’ that it becomes as living, as moving as the music itself. There are, moreover, moments of pathos in the libretto, and the tragic scenes are treated with vigorous sobriety. The piece comprises a short prologue and five acts. The first act is occupied with the songs of nymphs and shepherds who joyously celebrate the nuptials of Orpheus and Eurydice, while the spouses sing their mutual love. In Act II, Orpheus has returned to his own country, and greets the places familiar to his youth. ‘The shepherds welcome him joyously, but Silvia, the messenger of doom, arrives to announce the death of Eurydice from the sting of aserpent. Orpheus utters a single cry, then remains plunged in grief, while the shepherds pour forth lamentations. Soon he returns to himself, and, rebelling against Fate, swears to snatch the prey of Hell from its jaws. In the third act, Orpheus arrives on the banks of the river of Hades, and having lulled the savage pilot asleep by his melodious song, enters into the fatal bark alone. In the fourth act, Orpheus, the conqueror of death, returns towards the light of day, leading Eurydice; furious spirits pursue them; fearing to lose her, he breaks his compact and turns back. Eurydice, already a fleeting shade, bewails her fate for a moment, and — disappears while the infernal chorus sings its victory. The 60 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES fifth act is weak. ‘The poet avoids the horrible dénouement of the legend, the rending of Orpheus by the Bacchantes. He prefers, after a scene in which Echo replies to the despair of Orpheus, to introduce Apollo, who, as “‘ Deus ex machina,” offers to his son that he shall enter living into immortality. Orpheus and Apollo ascend to heaven in a chariot, while the chorus celebrate in song and dance the apotheosis of the lyre-bearer. Among the Florentines, dramatic expression was confided to the voices only. The meagre ritornelli of Cavaliere are purely decorative. But with Monteverdi it is quite another matter; the instruments are almost as important as the voices. The basis of the drama is certainly declamation, but we are a long way here from the lifeless recitative of the Floren- tine innovators. Monteverdi’s recitative is rich in melodic accents. There are arias and songs in the Orfeo, but the striking point is that all the principal scenes are treated in free recitative style. In the admirable narration of the Messenger, so moving in its simplicity, a few chromatics and a sudden modulation from E into E flat major are sufficient to give an impression of anguish and horror. Silvia’s narra- tion is accompanied by a small positive organ (organo dt Jegno) and a chitarrone. The plaintive, veiled tones of these instruments, which succeed abruptly to the brilliant and ringing high notes of the treble viols and harpsichord which accompanied the voices of the shepherds, must have further accentuated the impression of gloom. Orpheus’ despair, when he has cast off the stupor into which the fatal message has thrown him, is again expressed — in the recitative style. It is difficult to say, in this celebrated OM ee OP 61 passage, what is most admirable, whether its dramatic intensity or the intelligence with which its least details are worked out. “Tu sei morta,’ murmurs Orpheus, scarcely conscious as yet of the possibility of such horror. ‘‘ Thou art dead, and I live,” and gradually the tone rises. His whole being rebels against destiny. Now he cries aloud; he will go and claim Eurydice from the King of Darkness, and will bring her back to the light. Then great peace descends upon his soul, and he utters the exquisite phrase, ‘I shall bring thee back; thou shalt once more see the light.” EXAMPLE 15 me-co trar-rot - ti a ri - ve-der le ste! - - le, Doubt assails him. Yet no matter; if he fails, he will remain with her among the dead, and he SRE a solemn eM to the earth and to the suh. EXAMPLE 16 a dio ter-ra, a dio cie - lo e so -le, AY NO ee Te: The way in which the phrases of this song, while exactly moulded on the poetic text, maintain a perfect balance is a marvel. This is truly melody unbound. In the first act, Orpheus’ love-song, Rosa del ciel, is a magnificent example of an aria recitative. The recitative is perfectly free in form, but, while reflecting intimately all the suggestions of the text, it is so tuneful that it can be regarded as a true melody. It is a far cry from this to the hollow narrations of Peri and Cavaliere. Monteverdi, in the same way as Lulli did later, excels 62 THE DRAMATIC ’SPECTACI ES in extracting from the very sound of a word the melody latent within it. For him, there are no two ways of expressing the same words in music. When a group of words recurs in the course of the drama, it invariably reintroduces the same melodic figure. The Messenger cries, “ 4hi! caso acerbo! Ahi fat empio e crudele! Ahi, stelle ingiuriose, Ahi, Ciel avaro!” EXAMPLE I7 ca-so acer-bo Ahi fat’empio e cru - - de - - le Ahi AES EE A BORED DD IEE SA SS ROE) A TC GE ERENT RS IS Fe Pee Heseey Pan Pee Pes REED TM PE dP RS Es & BERNE TET _ Stelle ingi- u-ro --- se Ahi Ciel — a--Va----- ro A little later on, the shepherd utters the same imprecations, and the chorus takes them up in its turn at the end of the act.* ‘I'he melody undergoes some slight changes in respect of the value of the notes, but the intervals are unchanged. Monteverdi’s recitative tends to become an arioso. Gener- ally the first and the last phrases are more pronouncedly melodic in character than the rest of the piece. ‘The recitative which is terminated by Orpheus’ ardent prayer, Rendete mi il mio bene, Tartarei Numi, is a model of this aria-recitative style.f Frequently the extremely melodious opening phrase is repeated at the end of the passage, thus forming a kind of rudimentary aria da capo. ‘The shepherd’s song in the first act, /n questo eto e fortunato giorno, is a curious example of this. ‘I'he opening phrase and its repetition occupy three- quarters of the entire passage.t In addition to these aria-recitatives, in which the recitative is enclosed by the repetition of the initial phrase, Monteverdi makes frequent use of the strophic aria, in which different stanzas are sung, if not to the same melody, at any rate on * See Note 49. t See Note 50. + See Note 51. ‘ORFEO’ 6 oN) the same bass. This is the case in the air of Music in the Prologue. The recitative changes with each stanza, but the bass, in its general outline at least, remains the same, and gives a profound coherence tothe whole. In Act IV, Orpheus, while leading Eurydice back to earth, sings on the same bass (ascending and descending runs repeated in sequences) three stanzas, the melodies of which, whilst offering considerable points of resemblance, are not identical.* The aria in which Orpheus pleads with the infernal deities in the third act is one of the oldest examples known of an air in concerted style. The figured bass is performed by a small positive organ doubled by a chitarrone, while two violins contend with the voice throughout the first stanza. ‘Two cornetti, succeeded by two harps (arpe doppie), replace the violins in the succeeding stanzas, thus modifying the tone atmosphere of the passage. ‘The violins, cornetti, or harps are heard as soon as the voice ceases, and play brief ritorne//i at the end of each stanza.. EXAMPLE 18 Orfeo a DD |e CEST VE (RA We w 28, am 1A Jes 6 GS |) Se \0 RS Re \ es aa ees Hep ee i a gpl gg bey ag di : or che poi di vi - ----ta é.- p Daot cornet PTT de | a =< a ms a 22 s@le Ea 7 a SS CRE ET IA en pi ER ca LE AS SE TE NT Mh AS TAT RE EST ET Bnape. SS SST ETS SS ED ca Rae ee RE IE ORES TESTE ———— an So Se i SE EES BETES SETS Ge FRE eS OAD ET Ea Pa: = 8 —— Jo L000 SiN Ries a a I = See — — — id Ue Re SS Sn aa CS SA a eee ak cd Gt ek eer ee ee 2) 2 se SE , 0 SE EE ST ID 4 —— pr --«-va Seen mia—— cara— spo -- sa p _ TT , en re @ ha }d4 Ot Mm EET ESTEE CEE ALE CLL AEE. LIE A EDEL LADE LAD de ee ree ee ee tfanV io) CER ES A ES ES CR PE” RA REET, ARAL EROS SE ET ES A AT i ae A OE AP Ae A a SRN AD RNR RIRRE RES SER e SRST ee 64. THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES The vocal part is ornamented.. Following the example given some years earlier by Caccini in his Nuove Musiche. Monteverdi himself composes the expressive vocalises and melismata with which the voice-part should be decorated, but publishes simultaneously a perfectly unadorned version of the melody, as though he wished to leave the choice open. EXAMPLE 19 sciolta in-van - al - - - ------mada ———______ cor - - - po The melodic contour is only slightly defined, and the whole passage is rather a highly ornate recitative than an aria in the sense in which we understand the term now. Whilst in the dramatic narrations Monteverdi seems to have drawn his inspiration from Peri, in Orpheus’ strophic aria he takes Caccini as his model. It is an exercise in virtuosity, with trills, and reiterated notes which show off to the full the technical skill of the singer, but it maintains at the same time a highly expressive quality. At one time the voice seems to sob : EXAMPLE 20 ‘ORFEO’ 65 A beautiful melodic phrase, twice repeated, serves as conclusion. EXAMPLE 21 By the side of these arias in recitative style, we find others in rhythmic form after the fashion of the Scherzi Musicali and the French airs mesurés, such as the two airs which Orpheus sings in Act II,* Ecco pur ch’a voi ritorno and Vi ricorda o boschi ombrost. ‘The first is constructed upon the following metrical scheme o-—v—-o—-—; the scheme of the second is more complete, but, as in the French airs de cour, remains unchanged in the various succeeding stanzas. EXAMPLE 22 De miei lun -ghi aspri tormen - ti Quando i sas - si a miei la- men - ti The bass keeps to this rhythm, and the ritorne//fi are con- structed, in the same way as those of the Scherzi Musicah, upon a motive repeated in strict sequences in the bass. The dreamy, melancholy atmosphere of these airs corresponds pretty well to the atmosphere of the airs de cour, though the melodic contour is entirely Italian. There are few scenes in which Monteverdi introduces two or three solo-voices simultaneously. ‘There is still no intermediary between the monody and the madrigal. The only passage which already offers something like a genuine * Note See 53. 66 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES duet is that which Apollo and Orpheus sing together in ascending to heaven.* The two voices following each other in canonic imitations, or uniting in long chains of thirds the runs and fiorituri with which the parts are decorated, make of this passage one of the most ancient sae of the classical operatic duet. The choruses, which are numerous and important, are extremely varied. Monteverdi here displays his astonishing mastery of the madrigal form, and, indeed, several of these choruses are pure madrigals, bringing into play all the possi- bilities of the most audacious polyphony. ‘This is so in the chorus of spirits: Nulla impresa per uom st tenta in vano, which celebrates Orpheus’ victory, and which, as M. Romain Rolland points out, “is resplendent with all the pride of the Renaissance.’ ‘This five-part chorus is supported by the regals, the small positive organ (di /egno), five trombones, two bassi da gamba, and a contrabasso. Its splendour recalls certain motets of the school of Gabrieli.t In addition to the choruses in imitations, Monteverdi introduces frequent homophonic choruses in syllabic diction in precise and well-marked rhythms. In Act I the chorus of shepherds, Vient [meneo, supported by the orchestra, bears to heaven the ardent and joyous prayer of a whole people. Elsewhere, the two genres are felicitously combined, but the madrigal style predominates, and Monteverdi frequently — renders exactly the images suggested by the poem. ‘The voices ascend on the words cie/o (heaven) or sa/ita (ascent), they scatter rapidly on fugge (flight), and 2/ precipizio (precipice), is the occasion for an impressive descending sixth. These details in no way diminish the general expressive value of the passage. Terror, grief, revolt are powerfully rendered in this chorus, which expresses the lamentations of the shepherds after the death of Eurydice.§ * See Note 54. + See Note55. {See Note56. § See Note 57. ‘ORFEO’ 67 Sometimes, to make a contrast, Monteverdi inserts a duet or a trio between two choruses. ‘This happens in the pastoral scenes of the first act; and these passages are treated in very simple homophonic style, in the same way as the canzonette and villanelle for two or three voices which were so popular two or three years earlier. Frequently the voices combine with the instruments in choruses with dancing in the French fashion. Some are treated, partially at least, in imitation, but this is the except- ion, and most frequently the diction is syllabic, and the harmonies are vertical. These ballets, which were played, sung and danced, comprise several alterations of time. That in Act I is very characteristic from this point of view. Lasciate i monti is sung by the voices entering successively in canon in common time. ‘This first part forms the exirée proper of the ballet. Having taken up their positions, the nymphs begin the dance in lively well-marked rhythm in 3/2 time: gui miri il sole. An instrumental ritornello in 6/4 time inter- rupts the voices for a moment, but the dance proceeds, and the voices re-enter to conclude the chorus with further stanzas in 3/2 time. Quite a little orchestra composed of five viole da braccio, three chitarroni, two harpsichords, a double harp, a contrabasso di viola and a small flite-a-bec (flautino alla vigesima) accompanies the voices and plays the ritornello. The whole score shows considerable attention to variety of effect. The Euridice of Peri and Caccini are both tedious by reason of their lack of colour. The lines are delicately, or even occasionally vigorously drawn, but there is little play of light and shade. Everything 1s on the one plane, joy or sadness. On the contrary, contrast abounds in the Orfeo of Monteverdi. The powerful Venetian colourist is at work. ‘The first act is a luminous tone-picture in clear tints. It is almost entirely given up to joyous shepherd choruses with dancing. ‘There is no action, properly speak- 68 THE DRAMATIC *SPECTACLES ing, but only the evocation of a rural landscape in an atmo- sphere of serene joy. ‘The atmosphere of the second act is sombre throughout. ‘The songs in which Orpheus hails his country are inspired with a grave sadness, as though the hero were under the spell of foreboding, and when the grief- stricken exclamations of the messenger reach his ears from far off, he immediately grasps what has befallen him. Over- whelmed, he can do no more than murmur “ Alas!” when the fatal tidings are announced. An abrupt modulation from C into A major on Silvia’s arrival gives the effect of a cloud brooding over the scene, and, till the end of the scene, the music maintains its gloomy character. In Act III, by the substitution of brass for the strings, Monteverdi produces a dark and truly malevolent effect. ‘The fourth act is all in half-tints, suited to the pale light which reigns in the infernal regions, and in Act V there is a progression from the dark despair of Orpheus to the golden glow of the musical apotheosis. Later, Monteverdi obtained these colour effects by harmony and rhythm only, but here he principally employs the orchestra to that end. In this, he shows an astonishing sensitiveness to the expressive value of each instrument, and to what we call instrumental colour, but in this he is no innovator, as has often been stated. In the course of the sixteenth century the marvellous effectiveness of trombones, cornetti, and trumpets in infernal scenes, of trumpets and drums in warlike action, of flutes and oboes in pastoral intermezzi, of viols in scenes of love or sadness, of harps, lutes or regals in apotheosis scenes, had gradually been recognized. This is the way in which instru- ments were employed in families in the mysteries, the sacre rappresentazioni, as well as in court interludes. There was nothing revolutionary in Monteverdi’s making use of all the instrumental performers of the Duke of Mantua; * on * See Note 58. : ‘“ORFEO’ 69 the contrary, this was strictly traditional. Progress was to consist in simplifying the orchestra, in readjusting its balance, in giving it a sounder basis, to the detriment of its brilliance and variety. What is quite peculiar to Monteverdi is the use of symphonic fragments as genuine “‘ leading motives ”’ to ensure the unity of the drama, and to express certain definite feelings. The piece entitled Ritornello, which is not a ritornello in the ordinary sense of the word (since it is not associated with a song from which it takes its melodic themes), seems to be as it were the “leading motive” of Orpheus. It is heard during the prologue between the verses sung by Music to announce the subject of the play, it reappears with slight modifications at the end of Act II and of Act IV. In the same way, the symphony for seven instruments which bursts out like an imperious supplication at the end of Act II reappears modified* and is played pianissimo by the viols and the small positive organ at the moment when Orpheus prepares to enter the bark of the sleeping Charon while invoking the powers of Hades. It is again played by seven instruments after Orpheus’ prayer, Rendete mi il mio bene, Tartarei Numi, and concludes Act III, following on the chorus of spirits, Nudla impresa per uom si tenta in vana. It expresses the amorous daring of Orpheus, who does not so much implore the Gods as command them. Finally, the infernal symphony which opens Act III, which is confided to the drums, cornetti and regals, reappears in Act V after the scene of Orpheus’ despair, expressing the ghastly enchantment of the region in which Eurydice lives. The Prologue opens with a Toccata, a magnificent move- ment in four parts, abrupt and powerful in rhythm. It was played three times by an orchestra in which the brass predominates (clarino, vulgano, trombe con sordine). With its runs in sequences, its joyous clamours, it is very characteristic of Monteverdi’s orchestration. 70 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES The ritornello which follows, and which we can regard as the “leading motive’ of Orpheus, is constructed upon the rhythmic plan of the bass repeated four times in strict sequence. This process recalls that of the ritornelli of the Scherzi Musicah, and the opening ritorne/lo of Orpheus’ Air in Act II, Ecco pur cha voi ritorno. Here the bass repeats four times in sequence the same melodic and rhythmic theme which the two violini piccoli alla francese embellish with figures in thirds of an elegant simplicity. We have seen that the air of Orpheus conforms to a strict metrical plan. The same arrangement ~ reappears in the five-part ritornello of Orpheus’ second air, Vi ricorda, o bosch’ ombrosi, which is also metrical. Monte- verdi therefore seems to have had in mind, in composing these ritornelli, the rhythmic formule so much in favour among the French masters. Its style, like that of the French ballets, is only very slightly polyphonic; single chords support a melodic theme played in thirds by the violins. The sinfonie are never dominated by a rhythmic figure frequently repeated. The style is free and varied. Whilst the five-part sinfonia which concludes Act I recalls some- what the style of the French ballets, the symphony on the banks of the Styx, with its heavy homophonic chords interrupted by silences, is Monteverdi’s own, and there is nothing in contemporary music with which it can be compared. Other symphonic passages are polyphonic in character ; for example, the passage in seven parts, which celebrates the victory of Hades over Orpheus, played by cornetti, trombones and regals. ‘This superb sixfonia recalls the sumptuous sonatas of Gabrielli. In Act I the curious ritorne//o which precedes the shepherds’ trio is nothing less than a ricercare for organ in five parts on a bass theme obstinately repeated in sequences. “Iwo themes are ingeniously elaborated in canon. *“ORFEO’ ry EXAMPLE 23 What, we might ask, is this piece of church music, which might be the work of a Giov. Gabrieli or a Claudio Merulo, doing in this opera? The explanation is that it embodies the impression of rude strength and harsh gravity which best befits true shepherds. We are among the mountains of Greece, and not in the artificial Arcadia of the Italian academicians. _ Monteverdi is not a man of formule. He takes advantage of all the formule current in his day, of all those which he himself invented or brought to perfection. By the side of ritornelli on strict metrical plans we find sinfonie in homo- phonic or polyphonic style, toccate, ricercari, morisques. By the side of dramatic recitatives we find aria-recitatives, strophic airs, airs mesurés, choruses in homophonic style or in counterpoint, and ballets played, sung, and danced. Monteverdi brought to the development of the new form of tragedy in recitative all the technical resources of which his genius disposed. He turned the aristocratic spectacle of Florence into modern musical drama, overflowing with life and bearing in its mighty waves of sound the passions which make up the human soul. II THE “ ARIANNA” AND THE FETES OF 1608 In July 1607, while the Duke, accompanied by his favourite musicians, was resting at the baths of Sampierdarena, Mon- teverdi went to Cremona. His wife Claudia had been in failing health for some time past, and Monteverdi doubtless wished to confide her to the care of his father, who, as we have seen, was a doctor. He was in great need of rest himself. He complains of his health in a letter written on July 28th to excuse his delay in setting to music a sonnet which the Duke had sent him. His compatriots gave him an enthusiastic welcome; the Accademia degh Animosi gave in his honour, on August roth, a concert during which fragments of the Orfeo were performed. Leaving his wife and two children at Cremona, Monteverdi left some days after the ceremony for Milan to confer with the poet Dom Cherubino Ferrari. In going to Milan he was not actuated solely by the desire of showing the score of the Orfeo to a friend in a friendly way. The Carmelite monk, Dom Ferrari, was famous for his talent in the invention of interludes, spectacles, ballets, tournaments. He was at the moment much occupied with the creation of something new and singular for the fétes which were to be given at Turin and Mantua on the occasion of the marriage of Francesco Gonzaga and Princess Margaret of Savoy. In a letter addressed to the Duke of Modena, he recalls that he has employed his talent in the service of the Dukes of Savoy and Mantua, and has provided them with poetic texts and all kinds of inventions. ‘‘ I am well practised,” he writes on 72 ‘“ARIANNA’ 73 March 8th, 1608, “in this kind of dramatic composition, as can testify aendic Monteverdi, Maestro di Cappella of the eae of Mantua, who consults me about his compositions.” Monteverdi, therefore, had gone to Milan to submit the ae to the ptofessional judgment of this monk, who was an expert in all matters relating to the theatre. Whilst Monteverdi was in Milan, the Scherzi Musical were being published at Venice. Monteverdi, who was too busy to supervise this publication, had entrusted it to the care of his brother Giulio Cesare. Giulio Cesare, who was six years younger than his brother, was alsoa musician. Heseems to have had little talent as a composer, to judge from pieces of his composition published in the collection of the Scherzi Musical, but he rendered signal service to his brother. At the court of Mantua, he seems to have acted as his factotum, and was continually occupied in supervising rehearsals, in copying music, in practising with the singers. On his return to Cremona, Monteverdi found his wife in a desperate state. She died on September 1oth and was buried in the church of SS. Nazaro e Celso. His grief was profound. He was left with two young children, and was deprived of his helpmeet, herself an excellent musician, capable of understanding him and standing by him in the struggle he had to go through in the cause of his art. Nor was the privacy of his grief respected. Claudia was hardly buried when the Duke sent for him, and Monteverdi had to return to Mantua to prepare the marriage festivities. Federigo Follino wrote him an affectionate letter persuading him to return, condoling with him upon the loss of a noble wife of outstanding talent, but exhorting him to return to Mantua. ‘‘ The moment has come,’ he writes, “‘ to attain to the greatest glory that man can hope for on earth.’’ With an effort to control his grief, Monteverdi set out for Mantua. * See Note 59. 74 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES His sorrow-stricken soul found consolation in his work, and his own despair found utterance in the laments of the forsaken Ariadne. For the libretto of the tragedy which Monteverdi was to set to music the Duke of Mantua had commissioned the most famous poet in Italy in the genre, Ottavio Rinuccint. Himself of noble birth, this poet was accustomed to the society of the greatest princes. It was said of him that he had been in love with Maria de’ Medici, and that this was the sole reason for his continual journeys to France.* A violent cabal had recently been formed against him in Florence, and had forced him to hold aloof from the preparation of the fétes to celebrate the marriage of the hereditary prince of Tuscany. In the state of wounded pride in which he was, Rinuccini had enthusiastically accepted the proposal of the Duke of Mantua, and had set to work, taking as subject of his tragedy the pathetic story of the misfortunes of Ariadne. Meanwhile, Ferdinando Gonzaga had somewhat heedlessly accepted a libretto from the Florentine poet Cini. The recitatives and soli of this opera, Tet, were set to music by Jacopo Peri, the exsembles being reserved for Monteverdi and the composers of the Mantuan court. Cini and Peri had ‘almost finished their work when the order was countermanded from Mantua by Ferdinando, who had been advised of his father’s agreement with Rinuccini and Monteverdi.t The Teti was therefore put aside. The text has disappeared,{ but we can deduce from one of Jacopo Peri’s letters that it contained nothing strikingly original. Peri continued to neglect instrumental accompaniments, and for his thorough-bass only used harmonic instruments, a harpsichord, a great lyre and a harp. He desired doubtless to imitate the sound of the lyres which had accompanied the voices 1n ancient music. * See Note 60. t See Note 61. t See Note 62. ‘“ARIANNA’ 4 ¢ Monteverdi returned to Mantua on October roth, and showed some impatience to obtain Rinuccini’s libretto, for the Duke intended to celebrate the marriage in January, and the musician was dismayed at the brief time allowed him. As soon as the poet arrived in Mantua, Monteverdi set to work. But unfavourable circumstances caused the post- ponement of the date fixed for the marriage ceremonies. Seeing that the Arianna could not be ready for carnival-time, the Duke decided to have another spectacle, less difficult of execution, performed in January. Rinuccini offered the Duke his Dafne, which had once been set to music by Jacopo Pert, and subsequently by the Florentine musician Marco da Gagliano. ‘The Prince Ferdinando had been ordained Cardinal on Christmas Day ; it was decided that this preliminary spectacle should be performed in his honour.* We have information relating to the performances of the Dafne in Marco da Gagliano’s celebrated preface to the printed score.t Monteverdi’s pupil, Caterinuccia, achieved a signal triumph on this occasion, as did a singer of the Tuscan court, Antonio Brandi, called I] Brandino. We know that Rinuccini had considerably modified the original libretto, and that the musician had adroitly interpolated in the score several airs and madrigals composed by the cardinal Ferdinando di Gonzaga. The score of Dafne is of great interest, in that it shows the tendency of drama in recitative to become tuneful. Marco da Gagliano,t himself the pupil of one of the last Florentine defenders of the contrapuntal tradition, had already composed numerous masses and motets when the performance of Dafue opened up new horizons before him. He had been attracted to the ideal of emotional expression which Monteverdi and Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa, were striving to attain, and adopted at once the creed of the Florentines. ‘The pleasure of the spectator must arise from * See Note 63. Tt See Note 64. t See Note 65. 76 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES his comprehension of the words. Now this theory is certainly more literary than musical. But Da Gagliano was a far better musician than Peri or Emilio del Cavaliere. Without perhaps being conscious of doing so, he reintroduced music into sung tragedy. In glancing through the score of the Dafne, one notices that the melodic phrase falls into harmonious periods, that the melopeia no longer drifts vaguely along, finding a pre- carious support in the accentuation of the words: it has a more definite contour. Marco da Gagliano makes no attempt to express passion in music, as Monteverdi or Sigismondo d’India had done; he is preoccupied mainly with form. The Orfeo and the Dafne therefore symbolize the two channels by which the me/odramma was approaching dramatic expressive- ness and formal beauty. The tendencies are conflicting ; they converged in the last works of Monteverdi and in the works of such men as Cavalli, Luigi Rossi, Cesti, of all those creators of expressive beauty to whom history is only now beginning to pay homage. The Arianna was due to succeed the Dafne. Monteverdi was working at it in a positive fever. He had almost finished the score on February 2nd and several of the singers who were to perform in it had already arrived from Florence ~ when a catastrophe occurred. ‘The charming Caterinuccia Martinelli, the pupil of Monteverdi, who was to have taken the part of Ariadne, fell ill of smallpox and died in a few weeks. — She was mourned by all. The Duke commanded that she — should be interred in a splendid tomb, and the poets vied with — each other in writing verses to celebrate the rare attainments of the youthful singer, but seventeen years old. The sovereigns of Mantua went to Turin for the marriage — ceremony. ‘The celebrations were of long duration, and the — Duke prolonged his absence until May. Meanwhile, Rinuccini had returned from Florence to ‘ARIANNA ’ 1 Mantua, and was, with Monteverdi, putting the finishing touches to the preparations for the Arianna. On February 26th, a meeting was held at the Palace at which were present Rinuccini, Monteverdi, the architect Vianini, and Federigo Follino, the historian of the court fétes. It was decided at this meeting to enliven the Arianna with a divertissement to please the Duchess. Caterinuccia had then seemed better, and there was no talk of replacing her. It was decided that Chiabrera’s interludes for Guarini’s comedy, /’Jdropica, should be composed by the principal musicians of the court. Monteverdi took charge of the prologue, Salomone de Rossi, D. Giov. Giacomo Gastoldi, Marco da Gagliano, Giulio Cesare Monteverdi and Paolo Birt divided the interludes between them. It was perhaps at the same meeting that Rinuccini, to comply with a wish expressed by the Duchess, came to an agreement with Monteverdi respecting the composition of a third spectacle. This spectacle was the Ballo delle Ingrate. Later, Monteverdi told how the excessive fatigue caused by this business very nearly killed him. He had none of the extraordinary facility of certain of his rivals; he worked relatively slowly, left nothing to chance, and never wrote a bar which had not its raison détre. The composition of a lyrical drama such as the Arianna, of an important prologue, and a ballet all in less than six months was a task above the strength of a man in a state of physical and mental exhaustion. The death of Caterinuccia on March 8th aggravated the difficulties with which he was struggling ; it was moreover a terrible blow to him personally, for he had had the entire training of the young artiste. Monteverdi advised the Duchess to engage a singer from Bergamo to replace Caterinuccia, but this singer refused to come to Mantua when approached. No one else had been found, when the Duchess heard that the actress Virginia 78 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACEEs Andreini, also called La Florinda, who had just arrived at Mantua with the company of the Fedelt to play Guarini’s pastoral, had been heard to sing admirably fragments of the Arianna. She was sent for, and, to everybody’s delighted astonishment, sang to perfection “‘ the most difficult passage ”’ —doubtless the famous Lamento. It is quite comprehensible, indeed, that a tragic actress, gifted with a fine voice, should be able to interpret far better than any concert-singer music such as Monteverdi’s, which requires above all highly emotional and very dramatic rendering. While Monteverdi and Rinuccini were composing the Ballo delle Ingrate, Marco da Gagliano and Striggio were — working on another ballet, // Sagrificio di Ifigenia, by order — of the hereditary prince. ‘The consequence was that there — were incessant intrigues and mutual accusations of plagiarism. The preparations were finished in this stormy atmosphere, and not before time, for the ducal couple were about to enter — Mantua, followed by a host of princes, lords, cardinals and ~ gentlemen from all parts of Italy. It was in the presence of an assembly which Follino — estimates at six thousand, and the resident of Modena at four thousand, that the Arianna was performed, on May 28th, — 1608, in an immense theatre constructed by ,the architect Vianini in the interior of the castle. The performance of a — melodramma had never been witnessed by so large a gathering. The guards were powerless and the authority of Carlo Rossi, — commander in chief of the Mantuan army, was insufficient to maintain order. The Duke was obliged to intervene several times in person. Yet in order to keep down the numbers, ~ he had forbidden the officers and servants of his household to — be present at the spectacle. The best singers of Mantua and Florence took part in the — performance. In the rdle of Ariadne, Virginia Andreini drew — tears from the whole assembly. Later, the poet Marino ‘ARIANNA ’ 79 recalled how “ Florinda had sung the cruel torments of Ariadne, and drawn a thousand sighs from a thousand breasts.’’* Francesco Rasialso did wonders. Brandino, Orlandi, Settimia Caccini, all three lent by the Grand Duke of Tuscany for the occasion, passed almost unnoticed. Of the Arianna we possess only the text of Rinuccini’s drama, so classical in its beauty that it has been called Racinian,f some contemporary descriptions of the per- formance published by Solerti, and finally, the music of Scene VI, in which Ariadne, forsaken by Theseus, laments her fate. It was, moreover, this lament of Ariadne which ensured the success of the work. Monteverdi, perhaps because he had put his whole soul into it, attached peculiar importance to it. He frequently quotes it in his letters. He had a separate edition of it published,{ and later arranged it as a madrigal for five voices, to the great regret of Doni, who reproached him with “thus having disfigured the pearl of his compositions.”” He even adapted it to a sacred text. Copies of the Lament spread throughout Italy. The famous Adriana Basile sang it at Naples, and Severo Bonini tells us that there was not a house in Italy possessing a harpsichord or theorbo which did not have the music. This is incontestably Monteverdi’s finest dramatic passage. Grief is expressed with a majesty which recalls the master- pieces of ancient Greece. Heart-rending as it is, this grief is without grimace or convulsion. It is the grief of Niobe, who sees her children perish, so that it is possible, on reflection, to understand the letter—at first sight enigmatic—in which Monteverdi states that he was inspired by Plato in composing this passage. ‘‘ When I was about to compose the lament of Ariadne, I could find no book which could enlighten me on natural methods of imitation, nor which would even authorize me to imitate, save Plato, and he in a manner so obscure, that, * See Note 66. Tt See Note 67. t See Note 68. 80 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES with my feeble comprehension, I could scarcely comprehend the little which he revealed.”* While pedants were laboriously discussing the modes and metres of ancient music, Monteverdi, by the intuition of genius, had rediscovered the imitation of nature as Greek artists had understood it. In the light of contemporary descriptions, we can realize that the score of the Arianna was composed on the same principles as that of the Orfeo. A very large number of instruments was engaged in the performance. Each scene was accompanied by the instruments which corresponded best to its dramatic character. In the prologue, during the — gradual descent of the cloud bearing Apollo, a symphony of — various instruments was heard, first alone, then as an accom- paniment to the voice of the god. The orchestra was placed behind the stage, so as to be hidden from the spectators.t The lament of Ariadne was accompanied by viols. Monteverdi, in common with Mersenne, seems to have thought that the viol, which “ imitates the voice in all — its modulations,” is better suited to the accompaniment of voices than the violin, and is specially suited to “sad and grave ’’ passages in “‘ broad, slow rhythm.” ft Rinuccini’s tragedy was modelled upon the plan of ancient drama. There is a somewhat conventional prologue, followed by the main action divided into five acts separated by choruses. Theseus’ disembarkment in the first act is full of heroic grandeur. Alone at nightfall, Theseus and Ariadne recount their love. Ariadne, in spite of her lover’s promises and protestations, her soul troubled by sinister presentiments, is invaded by melancholy. Act II shows Theseus’ hesitations ; tortured by ambition, love, remorse, he resolves finally (like — Titus in Racine’s Berenice) to yield to reasons of state and abandon Ariadne. In Act III, Ariadne awakens, and is anxious at Theseus’ absence. Reassured by her confidante, — * See Note 69 t See Note 70 + See Note 71. ‘ARIANNA’ 8 I she reproaches herself for having doubted her lover, and sets off to seek him. Act IV opens with the narration of a messenger, who has seen the departure of the fleet. Ariadne, scarcely able to support herself, enters and utters her complaint, which is interrupted from time to time by the exclamations of the chorus and the exhortations of her confidante. Every shade of grief is magnificently expressed by the poet—desire for death, dejection, anguish, self-pity, revolt, despair. One can imagine the comfort Monteverdi must have derived from the composition of this scene, in which he gives expression to the erief which had tortured him since the death of his own beloved Claudia. Indeed, the great power of this Lament resides less in its plastic beauty than in the variety and intensity of its dramatic feeling. EXAMPLE 24 This is no mere recitative : words have become song, and this passage remained unparalleled in its intensity until the advent of Gluck. Though the melodic intervals of the diminished seventh and fifth were then new, Monteverdi knew their expressive power. He uses them with felicitous audacity. EXAMPLE 25 82 THE DRAMATICGSPECTAG TSS In Act V a messenger announces the arrival of Bacchus, and the marriage of the liberator God with the blushing Cretan. The piece terminates in rejoicings celebrating simultaneously in song and dance the nuptials of Ariadne and of Marguerite of Savoy. ‘This dénouement somewhat impairs an admirable tragedy. It appears to have been commanded by the Duchess of Mantua, who found the subject a little gloomy for perform- ance at a wedding.* Other splendours followed the representation of the Arianna. On June 2nd there was a performance of Guarini’s comedy, the Idropica, interspersed, in the old fashion, with musical inter- ludes which were simply the pretext for a display of sumptuous scenery. Monteverdi had only composed the prologue, which Follino describes thus : TF ‘““ After the guests were seated, a signal was sounded by trumpets at the back of the theatre. At the third blast the curtain disappeared as if by magic, revealing three clouds so skilfully made that they seemed natural. Below them, waves rolled and broke. A woman’s head slowly emerged. With measured movements, she arose, and, as the trumpet blasts died away, she landed on the banks of a smallisland. Then, accompanied by the orchestra, she sang a melody so touching, that all present were moved.” Follino’s account also tells us of another touching piece of music written by Monteverdi for this occasion. ‘The Ballo delle Ingrate expresses the same sadness. Doubtless, in this year of sorrow, his genius could express no other emotion but orief. | The Ballo delle Ingrate, performed on June 4th, 1608, is a highly important work, and it is astonishing that it should never have been the subject of attentive study by historians of music. It is, in fact, the only ballet alla francese that we possess in its entirety. There is no question that it was * See Note.72. Tt See Note 73. ‘ARIANNA ’ 83 produced under the influence of the new type of spectacle invented in France; moreover, Rinuccini’s son, in the preface to the complete works of his father, has credited him with having been the first to introduce into Italy the ballet de cour.* Before writing the Ballo delle Ingrate, Monteverdi had on several occasions composed ballets of this type. In a letter of December 1604 he is much occupied with a choreographic divertissement on the subject of Diana and Endymion. The Duke had restricted his commission to one entrée de ballet for the Stars which accompany the Moon, one ezirée for the Shepherds, Endymion’s friends, and an ensemble of Stars and Shepherds. For the moment, he is occupied with the ballet of the Stars only, and has just devised a scheme which seems to him ingenious and original. The exsembles, executed to a brief lively tune played by all the instruments, are to alternate with pas de deux danced to an air played by five viole da braccio. ‘Thus all the Stars are to dance in pairs successively, and the resumption of the exsemble between the figures will avoid monotony. The plan of the Ballo delle Ingrate is different. For that matter, it bears a close resemblance to the principal ballets which were being performed at the court of Henry 1V—the Ballet d’Alcine, for example, given in 1609.f But in the Ballo delle Ingrate the opening Récit is replaced by a long scene in recitative which outlines the subject of the ballet, and the scenery bears witness to the high degree of perfection to which Italian scenic artists had attained for some years past. When the curtain rose, the formidable jaws of Hell were revealed, lighted from within by glowing vapours. In the foreground of the stage, which was connected with the auditorium by inclined platforms, were Venus, Eros and Pluto, who carried on a dialogue in recitative. Pluto agreed to allow the Ingrate to come back to Earth for a few moments, so that the * See Note 74. t See Note 75. 8 4. THE DRAMATIGTSBEC TACEE- ladies of the company, who might be guilty of like cruelty, might be warned by their example. Then the unhappy souls advanced through the flames of Hell in pairs, keepingtime to the music. They were represented by eight women-dancers, and eight men dressed as women wearing frightful masks. They descended into the auditorium and began to dance a ballet which comprised various figures, all of which were performed in the French way to a single melodic theme. The Entrée, properly speaking, was composed of a very simple theme in common time. EXAMPLE 26 The souls of the unfortunate entered to this theme fre- quently repeated, “ advancing with slow and natural steps.” Having arrived in the auditorium, they began to dance to the same air. When the first figure was terminated the violins changed the rhythm. EXAMPLE 27 The third figure was danced to common time, and the fourth in 6/4. EXAMPLE 28 In the fifth movement, the theme was partly inverted. ‘ARIANNA’ 85 EXAMPLE 29 The sixth and last consisted in a repetition of the original theme slightly modified. EXAMPLE 30 This was the French manner of dancing a ballet; it explains why the music of a ballet, the performance of which, according to contemporary records, took up several hours, occupies only a few pages in Philidor’s copies. Only the theme of the Exztrée was set down, but no account was taken of the many rhythmic variations which were introduced at great length by the twenty-four violins. Plastically speaking, this ballet, in conformity with the French style, belonged as much to pantomime as to the dance properly speaking. ‘The Jngrate, by mimicry and attitude, continually expressed the idea of profound despair. After the ballet, Pluto sang a long narration divided into five stanzas by the repetition of a ritorne//o in three parts on the theme of the dance. He exhorted the ladies to show compassion, threatening them with Hell if they continued to show themselves izgrate. ‘To depict this gloomy region, his voice took on a sinister tone, with a descending g/issando of an eleventh on the words /4 giz (beneath the earth). EXAMPLE 31 {UL (iS ney re a JD tal Sets a Pir ST RTS} Ge Se ee ES Be Rie Se FES EE Ss OS fae SS ESS ER ee 86 THE “DRAMATIC SPEC TACIT: Then he commanded the Jzgrate to return to their sombre dwelling. They then danced the second part of the Ballet to the same air as before, and, returning to the stage, disappeared with gestures of distress into the flaming jaws of Hell. The procession was closed by a single /ugrata. Just as she was about to disappear, she turned, and bade a touching fare- well to the light; for a moment her voice was heard with that of her companions, exhorting ladies, young and old, to com- passion. This lament, sung by Virginia Andreini, who had previously interpreted the rdéle of Ariadne, contributed greatly to Monteverdi’s renown. It is the most interesting passage of the work. It is poignantly expressive, and, for dramatic intensity, may be compared with Ariadne’s lament, or the scene of Orpheus’ despair. The preceding dialogues and narrations bear traces of haste. Monteverdi was exhausted and cannot have been profoundly inspired by all this conven- tional court language, devoid as it is of any human feeling. Certain imitative passages are to be noted, for they anticipate the Combattimento ; for example, this fragment which represents the battle. pa EXAMPLE 32 It is equally interesting to note the attention to thematic uniformity which leads Monteverdi to compose all the ritornelii and sinfonie of his score on the same theme as the ballet itself. ‘ARIANNA’ $7 This preoccupation with thematic unity is still more pro- nounced in his religious compositions. Faithful to the system which he had adopted in the Orfeo, Monteverdi employed for the accompaniment of each of the dramatis persone the instruments corresponding best to the character. Venus sang “ to the sounds of very sweet instruments,” and Pluto must certainly have been accompanied here, as in the Orfeo, by the brass. The curtain rose to a long roll of ‘ discordant drums.” In the French fashion, the orchestra accompanying the voices was separate from the dance orchestra, and was hidden behind the stage, whilst the latter was on a platform in the auditorium. The strangers, who had flocked to Mantua from all parts of Italy, returned to their homes celebrating the magnificence of the Duke and the rare talent of his servants. In the autumn of the same year, 1608, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in spite of his desire to eclipse the glory of Mantua, had to content himself with tournaments, ballets and naumachias. He was not able to produce a tragedy like the Arianna, of which the music was being sung everywhere. ‘The melodramma was no longer confined to Florence; it spread throughout the Penin- sula. First Florence, then Mantua had played their part, Rome and Venice were to come, but the spectacles performed in Florence in 1600 and in Mantua in 1608 lived long in the public memory. Ill MONTEVERDI AND THE GONZAGA FAMILY HencerortH, Monteverdi’s genius for dramatic music was universally recognized. The preface of one of his works recalls that Ariadne drew tears from thousands of spectators, and that Monteverdi thus revived the great marvels of ancient music.* His rivals pay him homage. Jacopo Peri, with the disinterestedness of the great artist, exalts his dramatic style, and Marco da Gagliano speaks with enthusiasm of the Arianna in the preface to Dafne. Yet Da Gagliano had had his triumph at Mantua. It is even possible that Monteverdi may have resented his success, and it would be quite compre- hensible that he should do so, for, while the whole of Italy was hailing the composer of the Lamento, the court of Mantua seems to have slightly neglected him. Perhaps his own sadness and gloom were partly responsible for this. After having worked night and day to crowd into five months the composition of the Arianna, the prologue of the Jdropica and the Ballo delle Ingrate, after having conducted the rehearsals and supervised the execution down to its smallest details, he had received a ridiculously small remuneration, while Marco da Gagliano, who, beyond two pastorals which he had composed before his arrival at Mantua, had only written a single interlude for the /dropica, had received an honorarium of 200 crowns. Monteverdi was hurt, and was perhaps, moreover, astonished at the increasingly close connection between the rulers of Mantua and the representatives * See Note 76. 88 AST eee ae ae ee ee tee ee THE GONZAGA FAMILY 89 of the Florentine school. This was in point of fact the time when Marco da Gagliano was collaborating with the Cardinal Gonzaga and retouching his musical compositions, _ and when advances were being made to attract to Mantua Francesca, the daughter of Giulio Caccini, who was already celebrated as a composer. Monteverdi must have felt the court of Mantua guilty of base ingratitude towards him. Once the celebrations were over, he felt completely exhausted. He was a martyr to headache. After this effort, he felt himself in a state of complete moral and physical depression. He started for Cremona with his two young children, and, once at home, he declared to his father that he would not return to Mantua. The old doctor, much troubled by his son’s condition, and realizing that he was acquiring under the Gonzaga much honour but little wealth, approved his decision, and undertook to write to the Duke to beg him either to release Claudio, or to restrict his functions to those of Maestro di Cappella only. ‘The Duke did not reply, but Chieppio, the Secretary of State, wrote a friendly letter to persuade the musician to resume his duties. This letter crossed the one which Baldassare Monteverdi wrote to the Duchess begging her to use her influence. His son, he says, is ill, he cannot stand the air of Mantua; old man as he 1s, he does not know what would become of him if his son were to die leaving him two little children to bring up. The Duke’s service is too onerous; he himself has often had to come to his son’s assistance, more particularly during the journeys in Hungary and Flanders, during which he spent more than 500 ducats to provide for the needs of Claudia and the children. Chieppio’s kind letter seems to have exasperated the musician, who must have been at this time in a state of morbid irritability. The long letter in which he replied, on November 30th, has often been reproduced from Davari.* One can fee] = See Note 77. 90 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES that it has been written straight off at a sitting. He will not return to Mantua, he says, it would be the death of him. He is suffering from continual headache and from an inflammation which medicine is powerless to cure. Drugs are of no avail. The Duke did him the honour to take him to Hungary; he still feels financially the effect of the journey, as of that to Flanders. The Duke has decided to raise his salary to 25 crowns a month, but as he is to be obliged to provide for Campagnola the page, who has been entrusted to his care, that really only amounts to 20 crowns. The Duke did him the honour to invite his collaboration in the wedding celebrations; his only reward was fifteen hundred lines to set to music and a serious illness. He did not receive even a public expression of gratitude. The Duke promised him a pension of 100 crowns, but, after the wedding, only 70 crowns were spoken of, and various deductions were made over and above. He enumerates all the great musicians who, before him, had made their fortune at the court: Orazio della Viola, Luca Marenzio, Filippo de Monte, Palestrina, Luzzaschi, Fiorini, Rovigo. He himself earns hardly enough to keep him with a single servant, and he has two children to provide for ! ‘To give two hundred crowns to Marco da Gagliano,” he exclaims, “ who has done next to nothing, and nothing to me, who have done what I have done!’’ No, it is much better that he should not return to Mantua, where his fortune 1s as bad as his health, and he relies upon Chieppio to arrange matters and obtain his release. He concludes, of course, by a protestation of eternal gratitude to the house of Gonzaga. The nervous condition in which he was naturally led him to exaggerate somewhat. Of a highly susceptible tempera- ment, he could not adapt himself to the thousand servilities of court life. In 1604, because some rascally treasurer had made him wait for payment of his salary, he had addressed THE GONZAGA FAMILY gI to the Duke a violent letter, which had, however, the satis- factory result that he thenceforth received payment of his due with as much regularity as the disorderly service of the treasury permitted. In his letter he made no mention of several acts of liberality which the Duke had performed towards him, more particularly of the grant in 1604 of 1197 Mantuan lire to purchase an estate ora house. His complaints had their effect; the Duke ordered his return, but recognized the justice of his complaints by raising his salary to 300 crowns, and granting to him and his heirs a pension of 100 crowns of 6 Mantuan lire. 1609 and 1610 were, for Monteverdi, years of comparative repose. He returned to the madrigal, wrote Le Lagrime ad’ Amante al sepolcro dell’ Amata to the memory of poor Cater- inuccia, composed various motets for the chapel, arranged the lament of Ariadne for five voices, and set to music Marini’s Complaint of Leander. He excelled in the composition of Laments, and continually received commissions for them. In the same year, the Orfeo was published at Venice, the publication having been supervised by his brother, Giulio Cesare. Monte- verdi passed the summer of 1609 at Cremona. ‘T'wo letters dated August 24th and September roth show that he is busy writing madrigals for the Duke, and there is no more talk of leaving his service. He is even troubled because one of his compatriots, Galeazzo Sirena,* requires the title of Maestro di Cappella as a condition of entering the service of the hereditary prince. ‘If God,” he writes, ‘‘ wills that I should survive the Duke, the Prince would thus have his Maestro di Cappella, and what could I do then but quit Mantua immediately. ” TF The post of Maestro di Cappella which Monteverdi had received after the death of Benedetto Pallavicini in 1601, carried with it a kind of superintendence of the Chamber and Chapel music. Illustrious composers had held it with honour * See Note 78. t See Note 79. 92 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES in the past, and in one of his letters Monteverdi recalls with pleasure the names of his predecessors, Striggio, De Wert, Rovigo. The post was very absorbing. Monteverdi was ceaselessly occupied with rehearsals, and with the audition of singers who were offering their services to the Duke of Mantua. Before engaging them, he had to refer the matter to the Duke, giving him the most precise information respecting their qualities and defects. It is well worth while to note the minute details into which Monteverdi goes when giving his opinion upon the voice of a contralto to whom he has given a hearing. ‘The letter of June gth, 1610, for example, is a most precious document for the history of the technique of singing. When absent from Mantua, he received orders to bring back singers or instrumental performers. He found many recruits among his compatriots of Cremona, more particularly players of wind instruments.* Monteverdi was at the head of the Duke’s company of musicians, but he was seconded both in the Chamber and in the Chapel by eminent musicians such as G. Gastoldi, who since 1§82 had been choir-master of the ducal chapel of Santa Barbara. Enclosed by the enormous mass of the Palace buildings, Santa Barbara presented to the admiration of the courtiers its elegant Renaissance facade and its sumptuous marble facings which glittered when the light of the candles caught them. Two large galleries were erected facing each other for the musicians, so that the choruses could sing in dialogue in the way introduced to Venice by the Gabrieli. It seems that as long as Gastoldi was Maestro di Cappella at Santa Barbara, Monteverdi spent little time on the com- position of masses and motets for the religious ceremonies, and devoted himself particularly to secular music; but after * See Note 80. THE GONZAGA FAMILY 93 Gastoldi’s departure in 1609 he eagerly took up this type of composition, which was new to him. In the spring of 1610 he finished a mass to the Virgin * for six voices in strict poly- phonic style which marks an extraordinary contrast with the style of his madrigals of the same period. In the autumn of 1610 he went to Rome, with the intention of having his compositions published there, and of soliciting for his eldest son Francesco, then aged ten years, an entrance to the Roman seminary with a scholarship. Passing through Florence, he must have been interested in the serious disputes which divided the Academicians of the E/evati into two irreconcilable camps. ‘The poets Buonarotti and Cini had declared open warfare on the pompous (gonfiato) style of Chiabrera and Rinuccini, and were successful in keeping the latter out of the court fétes. Rinuccini, seeing that Jacopo Peri was not finishing the Narcisso which he had written for him, handed over a copy to Monteverdi.t He soon gave another copy to Loreto Vittori, however. Monteverdi was perhaps accompanied by Rinuccini when he resumed his journey to Rome. The letters he had with him for the Cardinal Borghese and the Cardinal di Montalto, and the protection of the Cardinal Gonzaga, opened every door to him, but did not succeed in obtaining for him the modest favours he had come to request. His mass and various motets were published in Venice, and he continued to petition the Papal court in vain through the intermediary of the Cardinal Gonzaga and the resident of Mantua. He had, however, the satisfaction of hearing some good music and some excellent singers. At the Palazzo della Cancelleria, the home of the Cardinal di Montalto, he heard the famous Ippolita Marotta, whose fame had spread throughout Italy. Monteverdi, though he admired her voice, preferred to her both Francesca Caccini, whom he had just heard in Florence, and who was * pee Note SI. + See Note 82. 94 THE DRAMATIC SPECTACLES able to accompany herself on various instruments, and still more the renowned Adriana Basile, “ because she sings, plays, and speaks to perfection, and even when she is silent gives cause for admiration and well-deserved praise.” * Adriana Basile had arrived in Mantua after long and difficult negotiations on June 26th, 1610.— She was considered to be the finest singer and actress in Italy, and had been able, by the dignity of her life and by her intelligence, to awaken respect as well as admiration. She was treated as a lady of quality and the greatest princesses admitted her to their intimacy. Monteverdi had been enchanted with her the first time he had heard her. He found in her an incomparable interpreter. Adriana, who had sung his madrigals in the past, excelled herself in his compositions. She performed them at the concerts which Monteverdi arranged every week, by order of the Duke, in the Mirror Hall at the ducal palace. This hall, which was in reality a wide gallery, was the most sumptuous apartment in the palace. Its vaulted roof was adorned with frescoes and its walls were decorated with mirrors and precious stucco reliefs. It was here that the court assembled every Friday to hear the virtuost. The throng was so great at these meetings that Monteverdi was forced to insist that the Cardinal Gonzaga should have strict guard placed at the doors to avoid too great a crowd. The popular virtuosi, Madame Europa, Caterinuccia Martinelli, Settimia Caccini, and now Adriana Basile had in turn shone at these concerts. Madrigals for five voices were sung as arias in the new recitative style. The instru- ments united with the voices. Chitarroni, lutes, and other stringed instruments combined with the small positive organ (di legno) for the thorough-bass. Adriana was especially brilliant in recitative and often accompanied herself on the lute. It seems that she sang all the new music, arias by * See Note 83. t See Note 84. Potee pS a THE GONZAGA FAMILY 95 Jacopo Peri, Caccini, Sigismondo d’India, and Monteverdi, who sometimes asked her to render compositions by the Cardinal Gonzaga, who was considered a good musician. Concerts of wind instruments were also given in the Mirror Hall, for the Duke kept an excellent band of cornetti, flutes, oboes, bassoons and trumpets,* which also performed with marvellous effect in the chapel of Santa Barbara on solemn occasions, and it is for them that Monteverdi wrote the magnificent Sonata sopra Sancta Maria, which 1s contained in the Collection of sacred music published in 1610, and in which wind instruments are felicitously combined with violins and viols.t We know little of the operatic performances which were given during these years. Chiabrera seems to have written various libretti for Mantua, but we have no reason to believe that they were performed. On February 16th, 1612, the old Duke Vincenzo died, and Francesco succeeded him. ‘This prince was still more debauched than his father, and his brief reign of a few months’ duration was marked by a series of follies. We do not know the exact circumstances of his quarrel with Monteverdi, whose surest ally he had been for years. It was perhaps on the occasion of a strange spectacle in the Florentine fashion entitled the Rape of the Sabine Women, in which the various phases of a tournament and equestrian display were commented upon by music and recitations. The féte given in honour of the election of a new Emperor took place on July 19th and 2oth, 1612. Ten days later, Monteverdi left the court of Mantua with an agreement of release in good form, and bearing in his pocket the total sum of his savings for twenty-three years of service— twenty-five crowns ! While Monteverdi had little cause to regret the Gonzagas, the Gonzagas soon regretted him. Francesco died on * See Note 85. tT See Note 86. 96 THE DRAMATIC: SPECIAG Ee December 22nd, 1612, leaving the throne to his brother Ferdinando, who cheerfully renounced his Cardinalate to become Duke. Ferdinando had a profound and sincere admiration for Monteverdi; he made many attempts to get him into his service, and kept up with him, as we shall see, the most cordial relations. For that matter, Francesco himself had not been slow to realize his loss. It was perhaps in the hope of enticing Monteverdi back to Mantua that he ordered a performance of the 4rianua in the ducal theatre in September 1612, two months after his departure. Monteverdi was thenin Milan. Envious people were circulating a rumour that he had gone there to request the post of Maestro di Cappella of the Duomo, but that he had met with a humiliating set-back. It was said that he could not maintain discipline among the musicians. ‘This was pure calumny, as the singer Campagnola informed the Duke, but it proves that the great musician had made powerful enemies at the court. After some months of retirement at Cremona with his family, during which he was probably in negotiations with various cities to obtain a situation worthy of a man of his genius and reputation, Monteverdi (on August 19th, 1613) was to his great joy, appointed Master of the Music of the Most Serene Republic of Venice. Ss ~ PART III MONTEVERDI AT VENICE, 1613-1643 im ih +. ’ Mr Pils 2 S I PepeCcHArPEL OF SAN MARCO Wuen Monteverdi was nominated Maestro di Cappella of St. Mark’s at Venice, this church was renowned throughout Italy for its music. The Venetians were justifiably proud of it, and made the greatest sacrifices to maintain it in the state of splendour which it had attained under the direction of masters such as Adrian Willaert, Ciprian de Rore, and Zarlino. ‘The regulations demanded that the Maestro di Cappella should be a man of mature age, of worthy life, and of sober character. His musical attainments had to be such that he could inspire the respect of the artists who formed the Cappella, amongst whom there were not only singers of note, but talented composers. Before appointing a successor to the late Martinengo, the Procurators had written to the ambassadors and residents of the Republic at Rome, Milan and Mantua, to consult them as to the musician most capable of filling this exalted position. All three had named Monteverdi. On August 19th, 1613, Monteverdi was invited to Venice to give a trial concert, which was entirely successful.* ‘The Procurators were so satisfied with the trial that, of their own free will, they raised the salary of the post to 300 ducats, Martinengo having received only 200. There were many benefits accruing from the position, and the Maestro di Cappella was lodged in the Canons’ residence. A sum of 50 ducats was, moreover, immediately granted to Monte- verdi to cover the expenses of the journey which he had just undertaken to comply with the Procurators’ invitation. * See Note 87. 79 100 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE Monteverdi returned to Cremona, and then went on to Mantua to settle up all the business he had in that town, and to assure himself that the pension granted him by the late Duke would continue to be paid. He even had a quarter paid in advance to cover his travelling expenses. Yet another misfortune lay ahead. The roads were unsafe, and Monte- verdi set out for Venice in the company of the courier. He had with him his son Francesco, now fifteen years old, and a servant. Near Sanguanato, brigands surprised the little company, forced them with armed threats to surrender, and robbed them of all they possessed. The fact that the brigands left the courier unmolested made Monteverdi suspect him of connivance. Monteverdi lost more than 100 ducats in this affair. The end of the journey was clouded by the incident, but he soon forgot it in the warmth of his welcome at Venice and in the material and moral satisfaction which he found in his new post. Monteverdi’s correspondence testifies to the change in his life. His letters from Mantua had been a long series of complaints and recriminations; he rebelled against his poverty, he was indignant that he was not properly paid. Proud and conscious of his genius as he was, he was con- tinually hurt by the Prince’s ungenerous dealings with him. At the court, they knew that they could rely on him, that he might grumble, but that he would not abandon his post, and therefore they considered it unnecessary to treat him with consideration. Money difficulties, family expenses, his wife’s illness, the undermining of his own health by the fever- laden air of Mantua, all this contributed to embitter his character and to make him profoundly unhappy. The letters written from Venice bear witness to the serenity of which his restless and unhappy nature was capable. He was housed with his sons in the Canonica like the canons. His residence was certainly diminutive; his own room was alate iy THE CHAPEL OF SAN MARCO IOI little larger than a monk’s cell, but profound calm reigned in this vast monastic building with its double cloisters.* He was only a few steps away from the church. Wandering along the canals or through the narrow streets, their gaiety and animation offered a delightful contrast with the gloomy stagnation of Mantua, where the entire activity of the city seemed concentrated in the court. The whole of Venice was in cheerful movement, with merchants busy at their stalls, displaying to foreign buyers the most sumptuous fabrics of the East, or holding up for their admiration glittering glass-ware or rich ornaments. The people seemed to work with joy. They felt and knew that they were free, for it was the nobles themselves who had voluntarily accepted the state of servitude in which they lived. To the stranger, surprised at the entire liberty which all enjoyed, the Venetian artizan proudly replied, “‘ This is Venice.” Save that he must take no hand in politics, and speak no ill of the Doge and the Ten, there was no restraint upon his liberty. Endowed with a truly Cremonese independence of spirit, Monteverdi delighted in this atmosphere of freedom which contrasted so strikingly with the servility of the Mantuans. And in Venice he breathed air which, though it could not equal that of Cremona, was none the less famous in Italy for its purity. He suffered no longer from the headaches caused by the marsh vapours. He felt better, morally and physically. He had suffered at Mantua, not because his talent was not recognized, for he was celebrated among the musicians, but because he was not treated with the respect to which his genius entitled him. At Venice, he was admired and beloved by all. Of their own free will, the Procurators raised his salary from time to time. ‘Three years later, his salary amounted to 400 ducats, double what his predecessors had received.t He received, moreover, various sums from private * See Note 88. T See Note go. 102 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE persons, and from the superiors of convents where he directed the music. It was not wealth, for he had heavy expenses, but at least it was not poverty. He was able, though not without occasional difficulty, to meet the expenses of his sons’ education. Fearing for them the “ perilous liberty” of Venetian life, he had them and their tutor to live with him at the Canonica and supervised their studies. His obligations were not too severe. He was not even required to appear in chapel if he did not wish to. No one would reprimand him on that score. He reigned supreme over the personnel of the choir. No musician, no organist, no maestro could be appointed without his consent. Appeal was always made to him to settle differences between singers. He was free to suspend from their functions the musicians placed under his orders, and could grant or refuse leave which they asked.* The cathedral of St. Mark’s was placed under the perpetual superintendence of the Procurators. ‘The dignity of Pro- curatore di San Marco was, by reason of the prerogatives and privileges which it carried with it, “the highest object of the ambition of the Venetian nobility.” There were nine Procurators for life charged with the administration of the church and of the considerable domains belonging to it. Three of them, called Procuratori di sopra, took charge of everything which concerned the church. Housed in the magnificent new Procuratorie on the Piazzetta, they wore the ducal robe with its long sleeves sweeping to the ground. All the difficulties which arose in the administration of the church music were submitted to them, and there was no appeal against their decision. Monteverdi was also under the authority of the Primiciero as to the arrangement of the religious ceremonies. The Primiciero was a Venetian noble appointed to his high functions by the Doge. He was at * See Note go. MH RCIAPEIL OF SAN: MARCO 103 the head of the twenty-six canons of the church, and officiated with mitre and crosier like a bishop. The religious ceremonies were remarkable for their splendour. During Holy Week, the ritual of the Alexandrian Church was followed. On Good Friday, the Holy Sacra- ment, enclosed in a black velvet casket, was carried in solemn procession round the Piazza, which was “lit by a million torches.” All the town guilds followed with their banners, and penitents “with pointed caps two feet high upon their heads, walking backwards before the Crucifix,” scourged themselves till the blood flowed.* At Christmas, mass was sung at six o’clock, not at mid- night. ‘The ceremony attracted an enormous crowd which overflowed on to the Piazza to hear the music sung by four choirs, according to the fashion adopted at the end of the sixteenth century. On solemn occasions, numerous instru- ments, cornetti, trombones, viols, accompanied the voices.t At the end of the basilica rose the musicians’ gallery, octagonal in shape and supported on nine columns.{ It was there that mass and vespers were sung on ordinary days, but on great festivals the singers were divided into several choirs. Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli had definitely intro- duced the use of numerous choirs which sang antiphonally, or in dialogue, or united in superb ensembles, while instru- ments played ritorne/ii or symphonies at intervals, or rein- forced the voices. It was only upon solemn occasions, however, that masses or motets were sung by several choirs with the assistance of the orchestra. For the ordinary services, mass was sung a cappella in strictly traditional fashion. ‘Two organs renowned for the beauty of their tone were situated opposite each other in the transepts. The first, manufactured by Brother Urbano of Venice, dated from 1490; the other, more modern, was smaller, but the * See Note gI. t See Note 92. t See Note 93. § See Note 94. 104 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE suavity of its tone was admirable.* It had been decorated with shutters painted by Giovanni Bellini. It was on this organ that the famous and universally regretted Giovanni Gabrieli had performed. Up to the present, the list of names of the musicians of St. Mark’s has not been found, and the only information available is that given in the proceedings of the Procurators’ meetings. Monteverdi, on taking up his post, found the post of Vice-Maestro occupied by a composer of talent, Marc Antonio Negri, composer of Psalms and of delightful secular two-part compositions in the Roman style entitled Affett Amorosi.t In 1620, Monteverdi appointed to succeed him Alessandro Grandi, the singing-master of the ducal seminary, pupil of the famous Giovanni Gabrieli, himself a composer of genius whose name belongs more particularly to the history of religious music and of the cantata. In 1627, Grandi left St. Mark’s to take up the position of Maestro di Cappella at the Duomo of Bergamo, where he died of plague three years later. He was succeeded by G. Rovetta, who had been a singer in the chapel since 1683. Monteverdi was therefore ably seconded. He could, if need be, go to Bologna, Parma, Mantua, Cremona without any anxiety. The personnel of the chapel comprised, besides the Master, the Vice-Master and the two organists,{ some thirty singers and about twenty- five instrumental performers.§ When Monteverdi was appointed Maestro di Cappella it seems that traditional church-singing was entirely neglected. The fashion for solo-singing, and the rapid decline of music a cappella, had led to the complete abandonment of polyphonic singing. Caberlotti tells us that the musical direction of the chapel was in a state of complete disorder. Indeed, a glance through the record of the Procuratorial proceedings for this period shows that the return to the traditional practice was * See Note 95. — + See Note 96. t See Note 97. § See Note 98. THE CHAPEL OF SAN MARCO 105 periodically recommended. Monteverdi probably received the same recommendation when he took up office, and we . know through Caberlotti that he succeeded in restoring sing- ine a cappella to all its ancient glory, having recourse rather ng ee gory 8 \ to persuasion and example than to the authority to which his office entitled him.* _ Yet the singers who formed the choir were by no means easy to keep in order. ‘They had, with the consent of the Procurator, formed an association, and stubbornly defended their privileges.—| The Vice-Maestro, Marc Antonio Negri, had unpleasant proof of this in 1613. He claimed the right of conducting the choir even when they performed in churches other than St. Mark’s. After prolonged discussion, the Procurators and the Doge decided for the singers. They were obliged to recognize the authority of Marc Antonio Negri in the church of St. Mark, but once outside the church he was their equal. On May 3oth, 1612, they had elected as their Chief Canon Gaspare Locatello, author of villanellas and madrigals, who obstinately maintained the prerogatives of the association. From time to time, doubtless with the object of keeping them better in hand, they were forbidden to sing in other churches,t but these orders were never enforced. The majority of the singers played various instruments ; viols (soprano, alto, tenor, bass and double bass), violins and bass violins, cornetti, trombones, flutes. ‘They alternately sang and played in the orchestra, though naturally at great festivals instrumental performers approved by the Procurators were called upon to complete the orchestra. The Guild of Minstrels and Players, whose patron saint was San Silvestro, claimed that they had the right to force such musicians of St. Mark’s as practised instrumental music to inscribe themselves upon their register and to pay their * See Note gg. Tt See Note Ioo. t See Note Ior. 106 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE dues. The result was countless lawsuits. Finally, acting upon the Procurators’ report, the Doge intervened and expressly forbade the Minstrels to exercise any claim upon the singers of St. Mark, who came under his authority only. The singers were authorized to play various instruments in churches and other places, and to give lessons in their schools or at private residences. ‘They were forbidden only to accept engagements for balls at public or private celebrations.* Twenty years later the Minstrels returned to the charge, and attempted, though unsuccessfully, to enrol in their association the organists of St. Mark’s.T Certain of the singers were exceedingly difficult to get on with, and continually made trouble. There are, in par- ticular, in the records of the secretariat, references to accusa- tions and complaints by one Domenico Aldegati.t This singer, conceiving that he had been injured by Claudio Monteverdi, had the insolence to stop him in the Piazza and pull his beard. Monteverdi, who must have already been ordained at the time, is careful to specify that he claims punishment for the insult, not as priest, but as Maestro di Cappella. Aldegati was properly chastised by the Pro- curators.§ This scandalous incident was an event in Monteverdi's life, for, as a general rule, the singers showed him the pro- foundest respect. He never had disputes with them, such as his predecessor Martinengo had constantly had, and we shall see how sincerely he was regretted and mourned by the singers placed under his orders. Monteverdi devoted himself entirely to his duties, and never ceased to exercise them with energy. He applied himself to replacing the old singers by younger men. He discovered such men as Francesco Cavalli or Giovanni Rovetta; he recognized the talent of Alessandro Grandi * See Note 102, t+ See Note 103. tf See Note 104. § See Note 105. eet 2 eee oe THE CHAPEL OF SAN MARCO 107 whom he made his second in command. He maintained strict discipline in the church, requiring the attendance of the musicians at all rehearsals and performances. He con- siderably extended the musical library, procuring the works which seemed to him worthy to figure in the repertory of the Maitrise.* Theoretically, he was by the terms of his appointment obliged to teach figured song, counterpoint and choral singing not only to the choir-boys, but also to the pupils of the seminary. Actually, it was the Vice-Maesiro and the singing- master of the seminary who performed this thankless task +; but Monteverdi took his pedagogic duties seriously and interested himself personally in any talented pupil. He was truly a maestro in the complete sense of the word. In addition to the duties of his office, he accepted a series of well-paid engagements. He gave regular concerts three times a week at the house of the Dean of the Chapter, the Primiciero. on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays, which were attended by ‘‘half the aristocracy of Venice” §; he directed the private chapels of several Venetian nobles. We shall have to consider later his secular occupations, and we shall see how absorbing they were, particularly towards the end of his life. In fact, it is a wonder that he had any time for composition, yet his creative activity was at no period of his life at a higher pitch than in Venice. For St. Mark’s, he continually composed music a cappella in contrapuntal style, and formal music with orchestra for the great festivals. He was, moreover, regularly asked by Venetian noblemen, by the governors of religious institutions, and by superiors of monasteries to compose masses for their chapels. We know by one of his letters that he earned more than 200 ducats a year in this way, and that he constantly received marks of gratitude and admiration. * See Note 106. t See Note 107. t See Note 108. § See Note 109. 108 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE It is only by reading his correspondence that it is possible to realize how busy he was. He was ceaselessly occupied in composing sacred or secular music for Venice and for foreign courts. One day, for example, having performed chamber- music at the English Ambassador’s house all the afternoon, he had to go on to the Carmine for the festival of the Madonna del Abito, and conduct Vespers there till late at night.* In March 1625 he states that he is much occupied with both sacred and secular music for the King of Poland. With remarkable ease, he managed to do it all, and found time to write secular compositions for public and private festivals, operas for foreign courts, or Venetian theatres, cantatas, madrigals, arias, songs, which were sung through- out Italy. During the thirty years spent in Venice he pro- duced a prodigious quantity of music which has mostly disappeared. What is left bears witness to the inexhaustible fecundity and variety of his genius. * See Note IIo. al) etl = . Te eee ee ee ee ee ee ee eS a eee II MONTEVERDIS SACRED MUSIC Witu the exception of M. Charles van den Borren’s brief but pregnant preface to the edition of the Missa a 4 da Cap- pella, no general study of Monteverdi’s sacred music has yet been made. The task is difficult, for three-quarters of such compositions as have survived are still unpublished and scattered throughout the libraries of Europe. Some- times one part 1s to be found in Bologna, another in Breslau, another in London or Paris. ‘These parts would have to be copied or photographed if the whole score were to be restored I shall restrict myself to defining the characteristics of Monte- verdi’s sacred music as exemplified by the works which | have been able to consult at first hand. Monteverdi’s religious compositions can be divided into two groups, those written in the traditional polyphonic style, and those composed in concerted style. He seems to have practised both styles with perfect freedom, in spite of the fact that they are different and even antagonistic. Nothing authorizes one to believe that a mass such as the Missa da Cappella is anterior to the highly dramatic motets with instru- ments which subsequently formed part of the Selva Morale in 1641. Not only does Monteverdi in the more important of his religious works refrain from those audacities of harmony which characterize his madrigals and lyric dramas, but he surpasses all the purists of the epoch. He uses a style of archaic austerity. His attitude is all the more surprising in view of the fact that the innovators were then concentrating upon introducing 109 IIO MONTEVERDI AT VENICE into. church music the methods of monody and the use of concerted instruments. Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli had, moreover, opened the way by substituting for the intimate expression of a profound religious sentiment the pursuit of decorative effect, the continual interpretation of the text. The madrigal had first invaded church music, and rendered every licence possible. Composers were seeking to strike the imagination and the senses by the powerful tone-effects produced by choral masses in dialogue. ‘The Roman school, though profoundly conservative, was influenced by this new musical ideal, and the school descended from Palestrina finally produced gigantic constructions such as the mass of Orazio Benevoli, with its fifty-three vocal and instrumental parts. Monteverdi was surrounded by composers writing in the new concerted style, amongst others, his colleague at Mantua, G. Gastoldi, Maestro di Cappella of Santa Barbara. In his masses and motets, Gastoldi distributes the voices into two choirs which carry on a dialogue in broad vertical chords. ‘There is nothing less polyphonic than this style. For that matter, the style of Monteverdi’s master, Ingegneri, is harmonic rather than contrapuntal, and Monteverdi notes with approval that he always had regard to the intelligibility of the text, which is destroyed when the voices are engaged in inextricable contrapuntal patterns. Finally, it must not be forgotten that Monteverdi had been for several years in Mantua in touch with the celebrated Grossi da Viadana, who was one of the musicians who con- tributed most to introduce the recitative and concerted style into church music. As early as 1602, in his Concerti Ecclesi- astict Viadana had given very successful examples of motets in recitative style for one, two, three or four voices, accom- panied by the asso continuo on the organ. Viadana’s principal object was to simplify the task of the organist, who frequently had only two or three singers to perform a motet for four or ' \ ; D SACRED MUSIC a five voices and was obliged to reduce the other parts at sight for the organ, but the introduction of the Florentine system of the basso continuo brought about the ruin of the polyphonic style. Vertical harmonies replace the interwoven designs of counterpoint, and a clearly defined melody is heard above the discreet chords of the organ. We shall see that Monteverdi did not disdain these innova- tions, and gave brilliant examples of the concerted style in his church music but it is astonishing that he should at the same time have written masses and motets in a disconcertingly archaic and contrapuntal style. _ Why, then, did Monteverdi show himself so conservative in his church music? Why did he, who had propagated with such zeal the zuova prattica, feel obliged to conform to obsolete methods of composition which contemporary musicians were abandoning? We have seen that, from the moment of his arrival in Venice, he had endeavoured to restore church music to the polyphonic tradition which had already fallen into disuse. Doubtless he was complying with the desire of the Procurators, who stubbornly held to traditional methods, but it is possible that he was glad of the opportunity of giving public proof that, in spite of Canon Artusi, he was capable of writing a mass or a motet in the strictest style, and that the liberties he allowed himself in his secular compositions were due not to his ignorance of the technique of counterpoint, but to a new sense of the expressive power of harmony. It must be noticed that Monteverdi had given evidence of his talent for religious music both in contrapuntal and in concerted style before leaving Mantua. His first religious works are written indifferently in the one or the other, but the severe style predominates. In this, Monteverdi doubt- less conformed to Lombard custom and taste. It 1s remark- able that the beautiful religious compositions of his compatriot Costanzo Porta show the same regard for the archaic style. LT2 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE The pupils of Palestrina, Anerio, Nanini, Giovannelli, also remained faithful to the polyphonic tradition. But the austerity of Monteverdi surpasses theirs. He took infinite pains over the composition of the mass included in his first collection. Bernardo Casola testifies to this: ‘‘ Monteverdi,” he writes on July 16th, 1610, “is at present engaged upon the composition of a mass for six voices which gives him great difficulty and much labour, for he has set himself to introduce all possible contrapuntal combinations, weaving together in ever-increasing stretto the eight fugal themes contained in Gombert’s motet Jn illo tempore.” * The mass Jz illo tempore, to which Bernardo Casola here alludes, written by Monteverdi in 1610, is contained in the collection dedicated to Pope Paul V under the title: Sanctis- simae Virgini Missa senis vocibus ac Vesperae pluribus de cantandae con nonnullis sacris concentibus. It is composed according to the old practice on the melody of a motet by Gombert divided into ten motives which are used singly or in combination. EXAMPLE 33 These musical motives are treated in the various parts in strict imitation. In the Crucifixus for four voices, for example, the tenor, alternating with the alto, twice gives out the theme of Gombert’s motet, while the superius and the sextus sing in imitation a melody consisting of a variation of another motive * See Note III. SACRED MUSIC 113 from the same motet. This style is a pure anachronism, and it is difficult to conceive that this passage, which is of great beauty, was composed in 1610, and not a century earlier. EXAMPLE 34 Saperius oc) i eid Ee 2 Cee. Raa eee ees eee ee “gs Se 2 SS) il i a ae 2 2 rn ce oe Ae ¢@ Ju." ©" oJ te) SSS (is SS) i CR Ee 0 ee ee ee RS OE a Se SE SUR GM SS SS GE PE 2 SE EE Se EE TED Cri ci==- =f -xuSs e- + ti-- am pro-no - - -==----=- bis - P a= i} Se eee (RRS SS BS AES BERS OO a ER FS "TS S227) eee... _SaeeS EWS a eee ed Ge a 2 Ce eee ee ino, | Dae aa Rie eae RE Re TF RG REE beer ee SD ie Se el eee a2 < | at '~] & Leh! | y a A \ ¢ | q | | il 4a NS q : il il | il a1 | ll | Ath hl sub Pon - - tio = S 4 i] t t] a | ih i } The archaic effect is still further augmented by the fact that several passages of this mass are written in the ancient ecclesiastical modes, and are only very slightly influenced by modern tonalities. ‘The entire opening of this Crucifixus, for example, is composed in the authentic mixolydian mode, sufficiently rare even in Palestrina’s time, the majority of musicians, as Glareanus remarks, sharpening the F. The Christe eleison, composed on the fourth theme of Gombert’s motet, is, in its austerity, a passage of genuine grandeur, moving yet unpretentious. Master of dramatic I 114 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE music as Monteverdi is, he here intentionally abstains from any theatrical effect, and interprets the liturgic text as Josquin Deprés himself might have done. EXAMPLE 35 é Altus If the author of this mass were unknown, one would be tempted to attribute it to some composer of the Roman school, contemporary with Palestrina. The basso seguente is the only sign that the work is posterior to 1607, for it was in that year that Adriano Banchieri used it, apparently for the first time, in his Ecclestastiche Sinfonie dette canzoni in Aria francese per sonare et cantare et sopra un Basso seguente con- certare con l’organo. We know that the basso seguente, which must not be confused with the Jasso continuo,* was not neces- sarily intended as an organ accompaniment to the voices, but served the Maestro di Cappella as a kind of guide to direct the voices and regulate their entries. Taken as a whole, the mass Jm i//o tempore is a work com- posed in view of a cappella performance, without the inter- vention of any instrument. With the exception of the Crucifixus, which is for nine voices, the mass is written for six voices. It bears no trace of the Venetian influences one would have expected to find in it, but is obviously related to the Romano-Lombardian school. Its archaic style, its scholastic processes of development and imitation, recall the early masses of Palestrina, and it is quite possible that Monte- * See Note 112. a ee ee ee ee eS ie ee ee Pe ee ee ee a ee ee ee ee, ee oe SACRED MUSIC rie verdi may have taken these masses as his model in attacking a genre which was, after all, new to him. The Missa a 4 da Cappella, published in 1641 in the Selva Morale e Spirituale, and republished by Tirabossi and Van den Borren, 1s rather different from the Ju illo tempore. While Monteverdi persists in his ascetic archaism, while he avoids dramatic and immediate expression, while he is careful not to employ the harmonic style which is habitual in his secular compositions, he betrays himself in certain methods of composition somewhat unusual in sacred music, more particularly in the systematic use of sequences. As Van den Borren very rightly remarks, he also manifests “ that sense of development by gradation of expression which is one of the essential characteristics of his genius.”” On the other hand, there is no trace in this work of the ancient ecclesiastical modes. ‘The tonal plan is perfectly clear. The work is written in F major, with modulations to the dominant and the relative minor. The frequent cadences on the dominant still further accentuate the tonal character of the work. Van den Borren quotes a few examples of dissonances which have escaped Monteverdi, but they are exceptional, and the counterpoint is quite traditional. The only dissonances which Monteverdi allows himself are those resulting from retardation, or from appoggiaturas, as was the practice of the masters of the sixteenth century. The construction of the work reveals that logical, syste- matic spirit which inspires everything Monteverdi wrote. He no longer uses the various musical motives of an anterior motet upon which to construct this work, as in the mass of 1610, but a very short and simple theme of six notes: EXAMPLE 36 (ae 116 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE which he varies and develops by every scholastic process imaginable. He inverts it, decorates it, varies it by muta- tion, augmentation and diminution, changes its rhythm. “In fact”? remarks Van den Borren, “ therewas@ ine save the cadences, and two or three passages of a few bars which eludes the tyranny of the thematic unity.” From beginning to end the work is treated in very vigorous imitation. ‘There is little homophony, but when it appears, especially in the Jucarnatus est, the Gratias, the Resurrextt, it produces the most magnificent effect. ‘These passages recall the fine successions of chords which are to be found in the work of Monteverdi’s master, Ingegneri. As a whole, ‘the work is inspired with sincere and profound feeling. It breathes tenderness and mystic love. The Missa a 4, published at Venice in 1650, seven years after _Monteverdi’s death, differs little from the preceding Masses. It is archaic in character, and is written throughout in very strict imitation. It was printed, like the others, with a basso seguente. | The opening of the Kyrie will suffice to show the severity of its counterpoint. EXAMPLE 37 2 a¢ SORE BSS Ne nn ee ae ee es Tae | ¥ ol () 2 BES 1 EES e G7. SIE ew SR © WEE Be A SS AY ee RT Af ___| — pe ET EAE TERE) RIEL APES ISS a By Se ee C. : : Ky -- - rie-e - - - - lei ar ey ck eS > A eT ne RE SE GREE EEEA mERENOREENTEET ETE! (Se 0 2 We () _ _ __ CE .. TENSE TENSE PS VE Te (on 28 EE ER SEE GEE HIST! ND) SE DS SE EL STRESS ERNE, Po A 7. | ee OE ey yp © Rees Ser Ge ad anes, EE OT LE EES VR GEE & ETE MS TS ee A A Ee LO: jRcuREEEae GuinwmETEEM SSS T..° Ky --rieve + ld 2-2 ee son Ky-ri-e e -lei - ve Ue ee EE RE SORA TE PS 4 COREY) Re eS OE I SE SY RE SET so. Pre REST es DP ae. Eee EE CSSD RE PGMS LL A LTT A STIS CSL TD RL TIIES ESS TIE SATIATION B. 2 ie & eal ——5—> SPP TS RENEE Oe of EEE EL, ELE LEAR LAL, WOT OLDS LT 2 bell OE BY 0) DRESSES SOR © FE Cee eS SG = A EE 3 EE, WF EEE NE 0 PPB COTS SEE 0 BE 44) REE NS at. kee SS Ts Sy RSS Le Oe 9 Ce Beet (Se * ee eee ee SACRED MUSIC 117 BTSs (SS (A ee (ae ee de ee ee Ee oS a = asi ating Je} th aa ik } —— eye = eae Sa Pea PTS BEDS ASS EE HP’ SBS KOE DIS > ck Ut STDS been, (eS RE — Saree ee son Ky-ri-e GUS SS 6S SS ae “lun 7 UFO ND (i? <2 ae ER ER Ee RT eee MO GT RE ee Pee ES i SLs {SS = Seeks De ae SE 2 Ee OP Oe ee Gs Se) Ge Tee ee ee eee OS Ee (Lo \ “) SU SUR ER en Ia ee Ge eee ee ee ee ee ee eee ee ja a Gh ee yri-e Ce lelvateme ee ne ere eae eee OO) UE Gh SS GL ee a Ln ee ae ee (ee ee 2 en eee ee eee ee O° {ype i [ES 9 120 i eS Ee 2 BE Be Ee 2 ee ee ee ee Ee ee SR ee gt Ce ek) Lee * Mie ESS SF [CEE SEI SSE ES SRO a DDS Se ie Se E -_aee aa Be' A CEE Te, (ee ERE ee SSS ae 2 et Page, Se aa son Ry «tte €-leiy- = - i 5 ---'- = son eo) fl es Ss 2S 0 eS SKS PSE 0) Le _ Ee Rai 8 8 ee eee iA SSL eS ae _ Coe i 5.) STE LJ 4) ChE Cae 2 ae Le ae ee DR a ee eee So i SS a Se Doe Cae 9 eS eS ae Ee en Ee Bee See Ee RoR HEGEL A = =~ wn 3 me 8 son C1 BM ie ae eS CS ad 0) es Ce eS es Ea | pel e jf 4 ge Pe ee phd Se ee 1 CLES TUN Ness ES ae OE; el BE ea 2.42 [LOS EL ES a (ES ES Se SS Se ees a te Yet it must not be thought that all Monteverdi’s religious works are written in this archaic style. We know from con- temporary evidence that he had composed masses of quite a different nature, one in particular, dated 1631, to celebrate the end of the plague, in which “ trombe squarciate’’ accom- panied the voices in the Gloria and the Credo, producing “exquisite and marvellous harmony.” * What is still stranger is that the mass of the Se/va Morale bears a note authorizing the substitution for the Crucifixus, the Et resurrexit and the Et iterum of three pieces printed in the same book, and composed in a totally different style. Not only have the melodic themes no relation to that running through the whole mass, but the style is concertato. It 1s the style of the cantata, and is no longer Palestrinian. ‘The ease with which Monteverdi passes from one style to the other is astounding, It is simple to attribute this to a con- cession to contemporary taste, but the question is, Was this concession made when Monteverdi was writing in the popular style, or in scholastic polyphony? In point of fact, Monte- verdi’s technical skill was marvellous; he Was versed in all - the subtleties of his art. When he had to write a mass or a motet for the great public religious ceremonies which were * See Note 113. 118 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE frequent in Venice, he wrote in the concertato style, but when he had to write a mass for some strictly liturgical service, he contrived to write in the style of the old masters, and used the occasion to display his marvellous dexterity. A glance through the Motets, Psalms, Magnificats, or frag- ments of his masses which are still extant leaves no room for doubt that he practised the two styles with equal facility. It is difficult to understand how a man could write works so different in character. Nor can it be said that Monteverdi betrays any preference in the matter, for during his lifetime he had works of both styles printed in the same collections. The collection of 1610, dedicated to the Pope, contained, in addition to the mass Jz illo tempore, motets of very varied style. There are no traces of Venetian influences in the mass, which is conceived in the spirit of the old Flemish masters. But such traces are to be seen in several of the sacri concentus which follow. ‘The concertato style popularized by Gabrieli may be recognized here, but it has been strangely perfected by Monteverdi. In these works there is to be found, in M. André Pirro’s happy phrase, “‘ the gravity of ancient polyphony combined with the inventions of the opera.” * Here, for example, are the vespers: Vespero da concerto composto sopra canti fermi for six voices and six instruments. They are typical of the music performed at St. Mark’s dur- ing magnificent ceremonies. ‘The music is sumptuous and brilliant. While the voices are occupied merely with a rhythmic plain-song, harmonized for six voices, the instru- ments, cornetti, viole da braccio, trombones and viole da gamba disport themselves with the most secular gaiety. In point of fact, Monteverdi here uses the triumphal theme of the symphony which preceded the rise of the curtain at the performances of the Orfeo. * See Note 114. PRT. ee ee ee ee ee TE Ae ee ae, Ce ee eS 119 EXAMPLE 38 SACRED MUSIC INSTRUMENTALI He | | LT Ty a! | f\ Cantus lll F oy @ WK EET Al OA er 6 NF ee Sextus (fo GEE AEE OT aw i | eT : | Voces — BH eee Peet ene i in Fel: acee a _ eee iS a See RE Fe — ——— There is the same contrast between the Gregorian psalmody and the quite secular style of the fes--------ti------na Ba! ae aS SS SSS SSeS eae Sey es me near aaa ) i” The psalm, Dixit Dominus, for six voices and six instru- - yan - - dum ments, is in the same style. instrumental score. Monteverdi, moreover, takes liberties with the plainsong, and sometimes terminates a h fiorituri. Insong verse wit pla 120 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE EXAMPLE 39 Plainsong verses alternate with verses treated in figured style. After each verse the instruments play a brief ritornello. The influence of the monodic style can be recognized throughout, particularly in the motets for one, two or three voices with thorough-bass. It is clear from the embellish- ments of the voice-parts that they were written for performance by virtuost. EXAMPLE 40 é al a “Ane | t lel ue 7a qs ’ s q NL “ey | = / N of rae > 2 Soe OS ee oe —- ——__ 24 Es rl lk | et toe I le eee ra wm Cm o7--s "nae eoeemam'@aotiatttsrysyfiesyeifstfte A 1) SEED SL A hee ET GH Se Hw ms ey 5 Sane 2. oe oe a tus — fe SEER ER ees Se 7.7 SRIEONREN _ sera RSS | a SE ee Ulan Wa Ee eee ee Nap. Sane <2 eas 7. REE ~~ fe) = ener =. An Ave maris stella for eight voices divided into two groups recalls Gabrieli’s style. Ensembles for eight or four voices alternate with solos, and the instruments play ritorne//i in the intervals. SACRED MUSIC I21 The Magnificat scored for six voices and six instruments is a superb composition of extraordinary variety. It presents one curious peculiarity which has just been pointed out to me by Prof. Francesco Vatielli, who, at my request, has been kind enough to study this work from the manuscript at the library of the Liceo Musicale of Bologna. ‘The thorough-bass part, destined for the organ, contains indications of organ- stops, for example, ‘‘ Magnificat, Principale solo, principale, € ottava-principale, ottava e quintadecima,” “‘ Qui fecit! Princt- pale e registro delle zifare 0 voci umane,” etc. ‘There are also precise indications for execution. ‘The Et exultavit is to be accompanied by the “principal”? alone, played slowly, because the tenors here perform rapid runs. The work is written in concertato style. Some verses, certainly, are sung a cappella with the organ, but the majority are treated in cantata style, the Fecit potentiam, for example, for one voice and three instruments, the Quia fecit for three voices and two instruments, the Sicut locutus for a solo voice and six instruments in dialogue. Interludes separate the verses of the Magnificat, and the cornetti and violins echo each other. To obtain an idea of the splendour of Monteverdi’s instru- mental style in his church music one must read, in the Torcht edition, the Sonata sopra Sancta Maria, taken from the collec- tion of 1610, written for a solo voice and eight instruments. viols, cornetti and trombones. The constantly recurring figures, the powerful sequences, give the impression of a triumphal ascension. Yet there is something meagre in the melodic figures executed by the instruments above the liturgic theme chanted by the voices in unison: Sancta Maria ora pro nobis. Monte- verdi realized that the methods of instrumental polyphony could not. be the methods of vocal polyphony, and, intent upon discovering them, he sometimes neglected matter for f 122 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE form. Whilst his madrigals and monodies are always richly expressive, there is at times something hollow, something mechanical, in his instrumental style. As with Veronese, the subject disappears in the preoccupation with dazzling colouring. He has a predilection for the brass, for the profound sonorities of the trombones, for the cornetto whose tones, softer than the trumpet, more colourful than the flute, seem, as Padre Mersenne has said, like “a ray of sunlight shining in the gloom when they are heard among the voices in the Cathedral churches.”’ * To these compositions must be added the psalm, Laetatus sum, for six voices with the accompaniment of two violins, two trombones and a bassoon, and a thorough-bass for the organ. It was published after Monteverdi’s death in 1650, with the Missa a 4 of which we have already spoken. It presents a most perfect contrast with the archaic style of that work. It has been published by La Fage in his excellent Essais de Diphtérographie musicale. ‘The psalm is divided into four sections. ‘The first is sung by two soprani with a con- certed accompaniment of two violins and thorough-bass, the second by two tenors supported by two trombones and the organ, the third by two basses in dialogue with a bassoon. Finally the six voices and five instruments echo each other, before uniting in a powerful homophonic ensemble to the words Gloria Patri et Filic. Monteverdi seems to have defied the laws of musical possibility in thus constructing the entire work on a basso ostinato consisting of four notes (G-G-C-D) indefatigably repeated for nearly two hundred bars. He only quits it for twenty bars at the words of the Gloria in order to modulate from G to A major. Yet let no mistake be made. It was works of this type, and not the masses and motets in counterpoint, which made * See Note 115. SACRED MUSIC 123 Monteverdi's reputation as composer of sacred music. It is obvious from contemporary records that his great popular successes were the big works in which voices and instruments are combined. Cafii has quoted one of Strozzi’s letters describing the solemn mass celebrated in the church of SS. John and Paul, in honour of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, on May 25th, 1621. It had been composed by Monteverdi for the occasion. It is clear that instrumental music played an important part in it. Strozzi emphasizes the moving character of the symphonic passages written in the mixolydian mode, which seemed “ like to draw tears of grief” from all that heard it. By the very words he uses, one can see that the work was sumptuous, with an external brilliance well calculated to delight a people who loved all kinds of splendour. He gives special praise to the suave De Profundis, sung at the elevation in the form of a dialogue, as it were, between ‘souls in Purgatory and angels come to visit them.” * Monteverdi cannot get away from his epoch. It would be a misconception to regard him as a “ Gothic”’ who has strayed into the splendour of the dying Renaissance. He is of his age, which is the age of Bernini. Like the great Neapolitan artist, he has a passion for real life, a powerful sensuality, a restless soul tortured by one desire: to give powerful expression to human emotions. Sincere mystic as he was, he knew contemplation and even asceticism, but they were with him transitory crises. Monteverdi feels his soul rising to God upon the sound of voices and instruments, the perfume of incense, beneath the gilded vault of St. Mark’s, Within its glittering walls. The fervour which overflows in his soul expresses itself in religious effusions. His motets and spiritual cantatas are, for the most part, identical with his arias and secular cantatas. ‘To express his love of God and * See Note 116. 124 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE the Blessed Virgin, he uses melodic phrases which could well be addressed to some passionately adored mistress. One can imagine nothing more sensuous and passionate than the motet O guam pulchra es, extracted by M. Vatielli* from Simonetti’s collection (1625), with the languorous tones of its melismata and its chromatic descents. EXAMPLE 41 Ve - - ul Ve - - ni quia a- mo -re lan-- gue ---0 The Salve Regina, extracted by Tirabossi from the Selva Morale, resembles at moments a love-duet. EXAMPLE 42 Dulcis dulcis virgo O - O--. Ma-ri - a A Salve Regina for solo-voice, published by M. Pineau,T is an operatic aria, and a very beautiful one, but it might well belong to the Orfeo. There is the same dramatic feeling, the same declamation, in short, the same “ representation” of passion. The motet Currite populi, which appeared for the first time in 1625, is strangely in advance of the epoch at which it was composed. It contains something like a fore- taste of the Jucoronazione di Poppea. It is written in cantata style, and is insistently reminiscent of the compositions of * See Note 117. t See Note 118. SACRED MUSIC 126 Luigi Rossi and Cesti of twenty years later. The return of the phrase currite, currite popult, with its characteristic sequences, divides the motet into three sections in a way frequent in Lulli’s work. ‘The theme of rejoicing, //eluia, is quite in the style of the canzonette of Luigi Rossi and Marazzoli. EXAMPLE 43 — —~ a EE eee ine aon ace # ——Ghido,J-— a — gh wat ELLE ELIE ER IDET Da LD SF BB. SSE joan _| Monteverdi does not fear to introduce the methods of opera into sacred music if the occasion demands it. In the Selva Morale there 1s a Salve Regina con dentro un Ecco voce sola, risposta a Ecco e due Violini. ‘The tenor sings Audi Coelum, Verba mia audi, the heavenly voice replies in distant echo audio, and the dialogue is continued at length, inter- spersed with ritorne/it by three violins. EXAMPLE 44 There are, in the collection of the Se/va Morale (1641), many motets constructed in the same way as secular cantatas. For that matter, Monteverdi was only conforming to general custom. His disciple, Alessandro Grandi, whose religious compositions met with even more public favour than his own, was writing about the same time regular spiritual cantatas. In his first book of motets (1647) he divided the O vos omnes, written in recitative style, into three parts separ- ated by the repetition of a sinfonia. At other times, he combined the voices with two violins and a bassoon or a 126 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE trombone. He also used the ornaments, the fiortturi which Monteverdi loved to use, and delighted in expressive chromatic figures for the violins. EXAMPLE 45 It was an epoch in which everyone was striving towards originality, in which genres were ceasing to have clearly defined limits. In his church music, Monteverdi uses all the modern inventions, Italian and foreign. He writes a Confitebor “‘ alla francese’”’ for five voices. ‘The upper part can be sung by a solo-voice, the other four being played by violins. ‘This composition is modelled on the plan of the French airs de cour. A single voice chants Confitebor ubi, Domine, etc. ‘The chorus then repeats the phrase, which is developed with alternating so/o and suzti.* It has sometimes given cause for astonishment that, towards the end of his life, Monteverdi should have adapted some of his arias or madrigals to religious words. Certainly it might appear strange to find in the Se/va Spirituale under the title Pianto della Madonna the admirable Lamento d Arianna, but we have no reason for assuming that if Monteverdi had had to set to music the Virgin’s Lament for the death of Christ, he would not have invented something very similar to the complaint of the forsaken Ariadne. The only real cause for regret is that these adaptations necessarily lead to faults of prosody. Indeed, there is no fundamental difference between his secular and his religious compositions, save in the few masses and motets which, by a personal peculiarity, he contrived to compose in an archaic style which was then * See Note 119. SACRED MUSIC 127 only cultivated by a few composers who had remained faithful to an obsolete form of composition. This conception of religious art conflicts with our modern ideas, but we must not forget that Monteverdi lived in Venice, in the country of Titian and Veronese, where, every year, when carnival ran wild through the town, priests went masked through the streets, nuns crowded to the parlour to hear the jests of extravagantly costumed cavaliers, and to laugh at their buffooneries, while at the gates of certain monasteries nuns were to be seen dressed in the height of fashion, or even ‘disguised as men, with a plume in their hats, making their bows with grace.’’ Strange convents, those of Venice, where “ the nuns go to choir when they want to, get up and go to bed when they think fit.””* A considerable part of their time was passed in making music, eating sweets, or chattering between themselves or with friends in the parlour. The churches themselves were mere concert-halls, where people met to discuss the most secular matters, or to pass the time listening to splendid music. ‘‘ These assemblies,”’ remarks Saint Didier, “‘ seem anything but religious gather- ings,” and he describes the fine ladies seated in their arm- chairs, talking to their friends during the services, or conversing in signs with the gentlemen on the other side of the church, who paid far more attention to what the ladies were doing than to the religious ceremony. It was for these monasteries and these churches that Monteverdi wrote his sacred music, so that we cannot be surprised at the secular spirit of compositions written for such frivolous congregations. What is astonishing is that, in so worldly an atmosphere, he should have given any time to the composition of so large a number of masses and motets in the severe style. But there are strange contrasts in Monteverdi. Grave, * See Note 120. 128 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE religious, austere as he was, he can write, if the occasion demands, madrigals or arias of lively grace, of burning passion. His genius was capable of any form of expression, and his imagination allowed him to express with equal mastery, with equal sincerity, the most contradictory emotions in incredibly diverse forms. IT] OPERAS AND COURT SPECTACLES (1615-1630) A.ruoucH much absorbed in his duties as Maestro di Cappella, Monteverdi nevertheless continued to compose operas, ballets and interludes for the princes or nobles who counted it an honour to produce the works of the most famous composer of Italy. From about 1615 onwards, his fame. spread throughout the Peninsula. However great his reputation as composer of sacred music, it was eclipsed by the popularity of his dramas and madrigals. With the exception of the ballet Tirsi e Clori, we possess nothing of the dramatic music composed by Monteverdi between the drianna (1609) and the Ritorno d’Ulisse (1641). Yet we can gather some notion of his dramatic style from his madrigals and from his correspondence, which gives the most enlightening information upon his conception of the opera. Although he was several times invited to work for the court of Florence, Monteverdi only wrote operas for the Dukes of Mantua and Parma, and for the patricians of Venice. Fer- dinando Gonzaga, from the moment of his accession, made every effort to persuade Monteverdi to return to Mantua, but the musician had always eluded the invitation, comparing no doubt the brilliant situation he occupied in Venice with the hard servitude in which he had passed twenty years of his life at Mantua. Yet the Duke of Mantua remained his sovereign lord. Monteverdi did not forget that he was a citizen of Mantua, and that his sons had been born there. ‘The com- mands of the Duke were sacred to him. He only rebelled K 129 130 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE when Ferdinando seemed to forget that he was no longer in the service of Mantua, and that he was now under the control of the Most Serene Republic. In February 1615 the Duke, who had asked him for a ballet for the Carnival, sent him orders to leave at once for Mantua. But Monteverdi was no man to suffer such cavalier treatment. His reply to Councillor Striggio 1s extremely witty. ‘To comply with the Duke’s command, he says, he would have had to be booted and spurred and ready to step into the courier’s boat when the letter arrived. He has no desire to pass a bad night, and perhaps catch some illness, particularly as the weather is so rainy that it is almost impossible to go out. So he prefers to wait, and would be glad if the libretto could be sent to him at Venice so that he may write the music for it at his leisure. The lesson was not fruitless, and when, in the autumn of the same year, the Duke of Mantua called upon Monteverdi to write the music for the ballet Tirsi e Clori, he ordered his ambassador to make a personal visit to his former Maestro di Cappella so as to persuade him to undertake the work.* This ballet has been preserved. It is to be found in Book VII of the Madrigals. The charming text was very probably written by Alessandro Striggio.t In a very gay tune to 6/4 time, Thyrsis invites Cloris to dance, but the amorous Cloris begs to stay apart with him, Her languorous supplication contrasts with the cheerful song of the shepherd. EXAMPLE 46. However, the shepherd insists and prevails. * See Note 121. t See Note 122. PreenRAs AND COURT SPECTACLES 131 EXAMPLE 47 ’ Su Clo-ri mio co-re An-di-a-moa 1 lo-coch’in-vi - ta - 3 - no in - vi - ta-no al gio-co le Gra-tie coi A -mo - - - fri The lovers sing a duet on the same theme, then the ballet begins, It is a madrigal for five voices. The voices are supported se piace by a certain number of instruments, violins, spinet (spinetta-arpata), small lutes. Like all the Ballet sung at the time in Italy or England, it comprises a certain number of movements (eight in all) with reprises. After a brief introduction in common time, the dance begins in 6/4. EXAMPLE 48 The melody and rhythm vary in the two succeeding stanzas, but the 6/4 time is maintained until the fourth “ change,”’ then the rhythm is that of the dactylic metre (U—ve—). The 6/4 time is resumed, and the ballet concludes in rapid common time, with a final cauda /ente. EXAMPLE 49 Bal - - -li - am’e giriam Corri - - am’e _ sal-ti-a-mo Bal - - -li - - a-mo. As to the way in which the ballet was performed, we have only the suggestions given by Monteverdi in a letter of November 21st, 1611, addressed, it appears, to Striggio. He wishes the musicians to be arranged in the form of a 132 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE crescent, at one point of which there 1s to be a harpsichord, at the other a theorbo, the first to accompany Cloris, the latter Thyrsis. The singers are to accompany themselves on the theorbo. Cloris’s theorbo might well be replaced by a harp. After the dialogue, when the dance is about to begin, the other voices will join with Cloris and Thyrsis in the ballet 4 huit, accompanied by eight violins, one contrabasso di viola, one spinet (spinetta-arpata). ‘Two small lutes would make a happy addition to the orchestra. It is not at all certain that this ballet, which Ferdinando had ordered for his wedding with Camilla Faa, was ever performed, and Monteverdi does not appear to have been invited to con- tribute to the coronation celebrations which took place in Mantua at the end of April 1616. Some months later, the Duke suggested that he should set to music the Favola di Peleo e di Teti of Conte Scipioni Agnelli. Monteverdi, in a frequently published letter, dated December 16th, 1616, began by refusing on the ground of his distaste for the mytho- logical libretto. This letter is of capital importance for the comprehension of Monteverdi’s art. It shows that while the musical drama was manifesting an increasing tendency to transform itself into a purely spectacular genre in which the musician played second fiddle to the scene-shifter, and had to concentrate far more on delighting the ear with picturesque and pleasing music than upon emotional expression, Monte- verdi, whose aim was always to give powerful expression to human emotion, remained faithful to the realism of which he had given such marvellous examples in the Orfeo and the Arianna. “How can I,” he writes, “imitate the language of the winds, which cannot speak, and move hearts through their mouths? Ariadne was moving because she was a woman, and Orpheus because he was a man, not a wind. ‘These Oren As AND COURT SPECTACLES 133 mythological personifications, these Tritons, these Sirens, are not capable of interesting and moving the spectator.” This does not mean to say that Monteverdi despises the lovely style of the canzonetie and cantate which were delighting the court of Rome, but he feels that it has no place in lyrical drama. Some weeks later, Striggio having defined his position, and made it clear that the Nozze di Tetide was not, properly speaking, a lyrical drama to be set to music, but a series of musical scenes to be inserted as interludes between the acts of a comedy, all Monteverdi’s objections disappeared. As soon as he realized that the business in hand was music, not drama, to “sing, speaking,” not to “‘ speak, singing,”’ the subject seemed made for him. He only desired that there should be added a final canzonetta in praise of the noble couple, which could be arranged to serve for a general ballet.* It is clear from the alterations he requires that he is no longer concerned with dramatic expression but with pure music. In the place of three stanzas sung by a solo-voice, he suggests that the first stanza should be sung as a solo, the second as a duet, the third as a trio. He thinks that Venus’s narration after the complaint of Peleus should be entrusted to Signora Adriana, whose powerful voice could carry on a dialogue with the united voices of her two sisters. He also goes into questions of costume, and desires that Signora Adriana should change her dress in the course of the performance. He is about to set to work on the spoken narrations ; he will subsequently compose the passages for singing (quelli che si cantano di garbo), and elsewhere he alludes to the fact that these passages are to be ornamented with runs and fioritori. The scenes of the Nozze di Tetide were to serve as interludes sung between the acts of another piece, perhaps the Galatea of Chiabrera. The Duke had hurried on the work for the * See Note 123. 134 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE fétes due to take place at Mantua at his marriage with Caterina de’ Medici, sister of the Duke of ‘Tuscany. The first idea was that these celebrations should be particu- larly splendid. The Galatea of Chiabrera, slightly retouched by the author, was to be sung on this occasion, set to music by Sante Orlandi. An opera, Endimione, was also to be per- formed, and the Duke Ferdinando was said to have himself collaborated both in the text and in the score; finally there was to be an opera ti e Cibele by the famous singer Francesco Rasi. Quite suddenly the Duke gave up the idea of the Nozze di Tetide when Monteverdi had almost finished the score. He wanted a genuine opera. Scipione Agnelli proposed a subject the pathetic character of which was well suited to Monteverdi, La Congiunta d’ Alceste e d’ Admeto, but the Duke counter- manded the order when the work was well advanced, and the only piece given was the Ga/atea of Chiabrera, which was per- formed without particular splendour. ‘The Duke told Monte- verdi, who was awaiting from day to day the order to come to Mantua, that he would not be required. Monteverdi felt very bitter about this, and does not attempt to hide the fact in his letter to Striggio of February 18th, 1617. He had not only lost time and work in setting to music interludes which would never be performed, but to fulfil this order he had refused his friend Ottavio Rinuccini’s invitation to Florence. The Grand Duke and all the court desired to make his acquaintance, and Rinuccini had hinted that he would be expected to contribute to the marriage celebrations. He had been badly rewarded for his zeal in Ferdinando’s service. The same year, 1617, Monteverdi, in collaboration with Salomone Rossi, Muzio Efrem, and Alessandro Giunizzoni, composed interludes for the Maddalena of G. B. Andreini. This curious composition marks a stage between the Florentine pastoral and the great spectacular performances which were to be popular in Rome. From the confusion of different genres, Peto AND COURT SPHCTACLES 135 tragedy, comedy, tragi-comedy, religious drama, there gradually emerges a new form called melodramma, that is, modern opera. La Maddalena already marks the final stage of this transformation, since there is no doubt that the major part of this piece was not recited, but sung.* Monte- verdi does not seem to have attached any importance to this piece. He was an old acquaintance of Andreini, whose wife Virginia had created the réle of Ariadne, and sung the lament of the Ballo delle Ingrate. We probably wrote some passages for the Maddalena simply to oblige Andreini. Monteverdi reveals in his correspondence the difficulty he had in keeping up with the work which was heaped upon him. In 1618 the hereditary prince, Vincenzo Gonzaga, commissioned him to write an opera, Andromeda, to a libretto by his secretary, Ercole Marigliano. Monteverdi set to work, but was constantly interrupted. Easter was coming on; he was occupied from morning to evening by services at St. Mark’s; then for Ascension Day he had to complete a great mass, some motets, and a cantata to be sung on the Bucentaur when the Doge cast his ring into the sea in renewal of the eternal pact with the Adriatic. He hoped to have more time during summer, but he suffered from violent headaches during the hot weather, and his work seemed heavier than ever. “I never see Saturday come,” he writes, “‘ without a sigh that it comes so soon.” F While we can form no idea of the music of the 4udromeda from Monteverdi’s letters, we can at least realize to what an extent he had bound himself by the conditions of its execution. He asks the Prince how many voices will be at his disposal for the choruses, whether he may write a ritorne//o, and upon what instruments he may count. Can the chorus, J/ fulgore onde resplendono, be sung and danced at the same time, and what instruments are to accompany it ? f * See Note 124. + See Note 125. t See Note 126. 136 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE The orchestration was similar to that of the Orfeo, the author making use of all the instruments at his disposal to produce tone-colour. ‘This explains how Monteverdi was able later to adapt himself with ease to the exceedingly restricted resources of the Venetian theatres. The Andromeda was to have been produced at Mantua by Monteverdi himself at the carnival of 1620, but the musician was dismayed at the brief time allotted to him for the pro- duction of a work of such dimensions. He explained to Striggio that if he were forced to complete it in a few weeks, the result would be deplorable. On January 16th he still had four hundred lines to set to music. He foresees “ verses badly recited, instruments badly combined, harmonies badly con- ceived.” ‘This sort of thing cannot be done in a hurry, and he reminds Striggio of the five months of rehearsals which had been found necessary for the Arianna. Prince Vincenzo having insisted, Monteverdi writes to Striggio on February Ist that he will not come to Mantua, as he wishes to have no responsibility for a performance which cannot, in the circum- stances, be anything but execrable, in view of the conditions imposed upon him. Simultaneously with the 4udromeda, Monteverdi had been setting to music an eclogue by his friend Striggio on the subject of the Loves of Apollo and Daphne. The most important passage of this composition was a lament of Apollo for the death of Daphne, which Monteverdi frequently produced with success in the Venetian salons. He seems to have wished that this divertissement, which comprised only a small number of performers, should be produced at the carnival of 1620 instead of the Andromeda, but his wish does not appear to have been fulfilled. Ferdinando Gonzaga always regretted that he had not succeeded in getting Monteverdi into his service. On the death of his Maestro di Cappella, Sante Orlandi, in 1619, he Wiimwo AND COURT SPECTACLES 137 renewed his efforts to induce Monteverdi to accept the vacant post, but Monteverdi was not at all attracted to the idea of leaving Venice. He was even much troubled by the fact that the advances made to him by the Duke of Mantua were known to the Procurators of St. Mark’s, who feared that he would leave them, and only very unwillingly gave him leave of absence when business called him to Mantua. ‘To put an end to all these difficulties, he wrote to Striggio the long and fre- quently quoted letter, in which he contrasted the honour and material advantage of his post at Venice with the constant difficulties which he had met with in Mantua, and which still continued, since the pension granted him by the late Duke was only paid to him with evident unwillingness. Yet, desirous to spare the feelings of the rulers of Mantua, in December, 1619, he dedicated his seventh book of madrigals to the Duchess Caterina, who rewarded him with a gold neck- lace. For that matter, the Duchess was favourably disposed towards him. It was by her influence that he was able to enter his son at the college of the Cardinal di Montalto at Bologna. The Duke continued to show the same want of decision. In March, 1620, he suddenly decided to give a great féte to celebrate the birthday of the Duchess, which fell on May 2nd. He wished to revive the Arianna of Monteverdi, and produce Peri’s Adone. Monteverdi hastened to send him a copy of the score, but excused himself from going to Mantua to superintend the performance. It was well for him that he. did so, for at the last moment the Duke decided upon a simple ballet. Monteverdi had profited by the occasion to petition for the conversion of his pension into a capital grant, but without success. During the summer, he went to Mantua, and begged Ferdinando to grant him at least a few months’ advance on his pension. His request was granted without difficulty, and this enabled him to establish his son Massimiliano, who had just finished his medical course,’at Mantua. 138 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE Monteverdi, for that matter, always regarded himself as one of the Duke’s subjects, and rendered him a host of minor services. He kept him informed of the compositions which might be profitably performed by his musicians, and sometimes, even at the risk of offending the Procurators, he arranged that certain singers or instrumentalists should offer their services to the court of Mantua instead of entering St. Mark’s. It is noticeable, however, that the relations between Monte- verdi and Ferdinando Gonzaga became less close after the failure of certain of the former’s artistic enterprises. ‘There is, in fact, no proof of Ademollo’s supposition that some of Monte- verdi’s compositions were performed at the carnival of 1620 on the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Eleanora with the Emperor of Austria. In May, 1623, Ferdinando went to Venice, accompanied by the Duchess and the entire court. Monteverdi must have contributed to the celebrations which marked the occasion, and doubtless heard his own madrigals sung on the Grand Canal by the admirable musicians of Mantua. The famous Leonora Baroni was in the Duke’s suite, and resided in the palace of the patrician Mocenigo, Monteverdi’s chief patron, where, three years later, was per- formed the Combattimento di Tancredi e di Clorinda. The few letters which we possess written by Monteverdi between 1619 and 1626 show that he was busy supplying the court of Mantua with singers and instrumental performers, but contain no allusion to any commission for operas. He is principally in communication with Conte Ercole Marigliani, the favourite of the hereditary prince Vincenzo. Vincenzo Gonzaga, who had always shown Monteverdi much admiration and affection, invited him to collaborate in the court fétes at his accession in 1626. Monteverdi offered to compose either interludes to be performed between the acts of the comedy which was given annually, or an opera. He suggested, in the first case, scenes from the . a OPERAS AND COURT SPECTACLES 139 Ferusalemma Liberata, which he was then composing ; in the second, a piece by Giulio Strozzi, La Finta Pazza Licori, of which the subject appeared to him both interesting and original. The Duke accepted the latter suggestion. The character of Licori, who feigns madness, and appears sometimes dressed as a man, sometimes as a woman, appealed particularly to Monteverdi, for it rendered possible the expres- sion of varied emotions. Now at this time, as we shall see when considering the madrigals, he was intent upon finding direct and exact expression for ideas and images. “‘ When Licori speaks of war,” he writes, ‘then the sounds of war must be heard; when of peace, then the music must express peace; when of death, then the impression of death must be conveyed, and soon.” * Wecan easily form an idea from the Combattimento of the way in which Monteverdi expressed these various impressions in music. The loss of the Finta Pazza Licori is irreparable, for Monte- verdi devoted his entire energy to its composition. It pro- vided him with a whole field of dramatic experiment. To his friend Striggio he speaks of the work with enthusiasm. We can gather from his letters that he collaborated in the libretto, for he required Giulio Strozzi to recast certain scenes, and we can feel his pleasure in creating new musical effects. It seems astonishing that Monteverdi should have admired the extravagant inventions of Strozzi. ‘They are much inferior to the rather stilted majesty of Rinuccini’s or Chia- brera’s Greek creations. Strozzi, like G. B. Andreini, aims principally at astonishing his audience. ‘The highest praise he can conceive, is that his compositions should be considered bizarre. ‘The explanation is that Monteverdi, concentrated upon realistic expression, finds, in these preposterous situations, excellent occasion for displaying his talent. The inco- herent ravings of the pretended madwoman give him the * See Note 127. 140 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE opportunity for a rapid alternation of brilliant and soft harmonies. This desire for realistic and varied expression gradually took precedence over all other considerations. Monteverdi refused Rinuccini’s Narcisso because, although its literary beauty was great, it offered no situation of dramatic intensity, and because there was danger of monotony in its continual dialogues between shepherds and nymphs.* On the other hand, in 1627 he enthusiastically accepted a commission from the court of Parma to compose a prologue, some interludes, and the music for a tournament. The text of these divertissements having been published by Angelo Solerti, we can only with difficulty understand the obvious interest with which Monteverdi set them to music. The verses of the interludes particularly delighted him. Written by Ascanio Pio di Savoia, they are, he says, animated by varied emotions (tutti variati d’affetto). ‘The text of the prologue and the tournament, by Claudio Achillini, pleased him much less. ‘‘ Where I have been able to find no variety in the emotions,” he writes, ‘‘ I have at least sought to bring variety into my music.” ¢ It is this passionate search for dramatic effect which subsequently led Monteverdi to that Shakespearean conception of opera of which the /ucoronazione dt Poppea is the masterpiece. It was in September 1627 that Monteverdi received from the Marchese Bentivoglio the invitation to collaborate in the magnificent fétes which were to accompany the celebration of the marriage of the Duke of Parma with the Princess Mar- gherita of Tuscany. Charmed with the interludes of Ascanio Pio, he accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. A glance through one of them, on the subject of Diana and Endymion, sufficed to give him an idea of its general arrangement. He established his plan, deciding in advance the colour he was to * See Note 128. t See Note 129. Peo oN) COURT SPECPACLES (141 give to each scene. He realized that the Endymion would require four types of music, or, more exactly, four styles. ‘The first style was to form the introduction and lead up to the scene of the quarrel between Venus and Diana, the second would express the quarrel, the third would begin with the arrival of Pluto, who came to restore calm, and the fourth would express Diana’s love for Endymion.* It is very regrettable that the music of this interlude should have disappeared. We should no doubt find in the quarrel scene an example of that concitato style which Monte- verdi had used for the first time in the Arianna, and of which he made systematic use in the Combattimento. These fétes gave Monteverdi a great deal of trouble. He was obliged to go to Parma several times, more particularly to view the Farnese theatre,f and the amphitheatre which was being specially constructed on the Piazza San Pier in view of these performances, in order to adapt his music to their vast dimensions. ‘The newly-married couple were due to return to Parma in November, but the ceremonial entry could only take place at the end of December, and Monteverdi was obliged to ask for an extension of leave to direct the perform- ance of these works, in which the most celebrated virtuosi from every town in Italy were to take part. The prologue, Tet# e Flora, which represented, with much stage-craft, the liberation of Roger from the palace of Atalanta, the Loves of Dido and Eneas, Diana and Endymion, the Argonauts, and the other interludes, were an immense success, and rather distracted the attention of the audience from the pastoral 4minta, between the acts of which they were played. The tournament, Mercurio e Marte, was given in the huge hall of the Farnese theatre, which had been specially designed for spectacles of this type. A mythological story, sung on the high stage, served as pretext for the jousts of the cavaliers * See Note 130. t See Note 131. 142 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE which took place in the semicircle reserved between the stage and the spectators. The best singers of Italy distinguished themselves upon this occasion, among others the famous Loreto Vittori, who later became the favourite of Pope Urban VIII and the idol of the Romans, who thronged the churches to hear him. This was also the beginning of the career of the famous soprano Marc Antonio Pasqualini, surnamed Malagigi, who, little more than a child at this time, had been brought from Rome by his tutor. All the parts were taken by virtuosi of repute who had been rehearsed by Monteverdi. He hated anything like hasty performance, and must have been de- lighted to see his work performed with such perfection of detail. For that matter, the performances at Parma were a triumph for him, too, and Luigi Inghirami, who has left us a detailed description of the fétes, voices general opinion when he calls him “‘ the first Italian composer of the day.” Of these interludes and the sorneo, only the poetic text remains.* The music composed two years later by Monte- verdi to celebrate the marriage of Giustiniana Mocenigo with Lorenzo Giustinian has also disappeared. Monteverdi must have written it with great care. Mocenigo had always been his patron, and we know by his correspondence how affectionately disposed he was to the young Lorenzo Giustinian. To please him, he went to great pains to get the famous actors of the ducal company to come from Mantua, and always showed himself ready to serve him.f The poetic text was by Giulio Strozzi, who had already provided him with the libretto of La Finta Pazza Licori, the ballets had been arranged by the choreographer Girolamo Scolari, the scenery and stage effects had been designed by Giuseppe Schioppi. The performances took place in the * See Note 132. t See Note 133. Preenio AND COURT SPECTACLES . 143 Mocenigo palace.* It is possible that the music was destroyed by accident, for Strozzi’s play was performed in 1644 in the Teatro San Mosé with new music by Francesco Sacrati. The Arianna had just been successfully revived, and it is highly probable that if Monteverdi’s score had been available, no other would have been performed in its place. After 1630, the sack of Mantua and the plague diverted Monteverdi’s attention for many years from operas and court spectacles. But he returned to them at the end of his life. In 1641, at the request of the Duke of Parma, he agreed to write the ballet La Vittoria d’ Amore, which was to celebrate the birth at Piacenza of an heir to Odoardo Farnese. Only Bernardo Morandi’s libretto has been discovered and published by Angelo Solerti.f The subject is the rivalry of Cupid and Diana. Love, naturally, conquers the chaste goddess. It is interesting to speculate to what degree Monte- verdi, who had doubtless already begun work on the In- coronazione di Poppea, had been inspired by this trite subject. In any case, the ballet remains a proof of Monteverdi’s adaptability. At sixty-three years of age, he was able to comply with all the whims of his noble patrons, finding in the most futile intrigue an idea for a picturesque scene. To judge from the libretto, Monteverdi must have treated the entire score in the manner of a vast cantata, with a multitude of songs, ariettas, duets, trios, choruses, not to speak of dances played and sung. * See Note 134. Tt See Note 135. IV FROM THE MADRIGAL TO THE CANTATA, 1615-1638 THE inventions of the recitative style, which the Camerata Bardi had destined exclusively for the theatre, had brought about, in less than twenty years, a complete revolution in taste and habits. On every hand, musicians had attempted to write for the concert-room or for the church arias for solo- voice with thorough-bass. Caccini, Sigismondo D’India, Luzzasco Luzzaschi, Ortensio Naldi, Ottavio Durante, Sara- ceni, Kapsberger, S. Pietro de Negri, Belli, and, a little later, Alessandro Grandi, Giuseppe Rovetta, Sances, Manelli, Bene- detto Ferrari, Milanuzi, and still others whose names are for- gotten to-day, produced the first examples of these composi- tions, which were more melodious and more ornate than the first recitative me/opeia and moved more freely and more definitely in the modern major and minor keys. Soon, throughout Italy, madrigals were neglected for canzoni, can- zonette, arie for solo-voice; instrumental polyphonic music was replaced by music for a solo-instrument accompanied by a thorough-bass. Monteverdi did not give up the madrigal all at once. Preoccupied with the profound expression of feelings and ideas, he despised neither the acquisitions of the past nor the inventions of the present. We have seen how he enriched tragedy in recitative with all the resources of vocal and instrumental polyphony ; he now endows the madri- gal with all the inventions of the homophonic school. ‘The madrigal, which has already served him as a field of experi- 144 THE MADRIGAL TO THE CANTATA — 145 ment for the attainment of a powerfully expressive harmonic style, in which the feeling for major and minor keys, then quite new, makes itself felt, is now to be transformed by him into a new genre, the Cantata. Monteverdi was certainly not the sole creator of this form. Others, between 1620 and 1630, had given the first examples of it, taking the monody as their point of departure, but it 1s curious to see how Monte- verdi, starting from the old madrigal, arrives at the same result as they, and at the same time. This transition from the madrigal to the cantata was made in three stages, marked by the publication of Book VI of the Madrigals in 1614, of Book VII in 1619, and of Book VIII in 1638. The very title of Book VI testifies to the decay of the poly- phonic ideal: “ J/ sesto libro di madrigali a cingue voci con un dialogo e sette, con suo basso continuo, per poterli concertare nel clavicembalo e altri stromenti.’ * ‘Vhe thorough-bass, indeed, permits of the various parts being reduced for the harpsichord, a single voice remaining. It is not surprising that Ariadne’s lament, here arranged for five voices, should find a place in this collection. With very slight modifications of the rhythm, with the prolongation of certain passages to permit of the play of imitations, the original melody is to be found throughout, predominating in one or other of the voices. The accompaniment, which is formed by the other voices, cannot be very different from that played by tge viols at the performance of 1608. The major part of the collection is taken up with the set of six madrigals, Lagrime d’amante al sepolcro del amata, com- posed by Monteverdi in 1610 to words by Scipione Agnelli, in memory of Caterinuccia Martinelli. The first part is one of Monteverdi’s most moving pages. A single voice evokes the fragile spirit, “‘ Iucenerite spoglie, Avara Tomba,” * See Note 136. L 146 MONTEVERDI AT VENICE while the other voices act as orchestra. ‘The harmonic style, the insistent rhythm, give the impression of a funeral symphony :— EXAMPLE 50 2 > ES SEER E SERS EIT i EE GR ES EE FERS Ge Pls 0 el & GSTS. RSET SS ES & HS «WS RT bb WE Ge Ss (1 ce | Ca SRS SS) EES § 2 0 2S EES FS LST GS In -- ce ne rm-te spo --- glie a--va ---ra Je NN eel we Re a = UE EE. 2 DER. ASD SEE TPR C ERL IOEEIE DD ADD DID ID, HIE PE OR bh 1 2 RS EA SEE SEE Pa SE” RY GR I FOI EI, GS © 28, 0 RE EES GE RE SES ES A . « ) 2 we?) = Er oe i pata! arr, i