As I mentioned in last week’s blog, Antonio Vivaldi—priest,
composer, teacher, violin virtuoso, musical innovator (not necessarily in order
of importance)—possessed something of a larger-than-life personality. He was also a fine string teacher—when he was
in town—and spent most of his working life in various teaching positions at the
Ospedale della Pietá (House of Mercy) in Venice. It was one of a string of charitable
institutions that took in those in need, mainly orphaned or illegitimate
children, and mainly girls.
When Vivaldi was appointed maestro di violino in 1703, just a few months after his ordination,
della Pietá was already an ancient institution (founded in 1336) and known for
its music; he helped to make it famous all over Europe for the high quality of its
all-girl choirs and bands, a reputation that was well deserved, for they
received rigorous musical training. In
fact, some noble families with talented daughters unsuccessfully tried to pass them
off as orphans in a bid for Pietá training.
Since the girls had to renounce a musical career if they married, some
stayed their entire lives, devoting themselves to teaching and performance.
These performers exerted a real fascination on their
audiences, aided by the fact that they performed in the upper gallery behind iron
grilles which mostly screened them from view, leaving only shadowy, romantic
silhouettes.
English novelist and art collector William Beckford
wrote, "The
sight of the orchestra still makes me smile. You know, I suppose, it is
entirely of the feminine gender, and that nothing is more common than to see a
delicate white hand journeying across an enormous double bass, or a pair of
roseate cheeks puffing, with all their efforts, at a French horn.”
Charles de Brosses, president of the Dijon Parliament in
France in the 1740s, said, "They sing like angels, and play violin, flute,
organ, hautboy, violincello, bassoon, in short, there is no instrument so large
as to frighten them."
But perhaps most famous of all was Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s musings
in his Confessions of 1770:
“I have not an
idea of anything so voluptuous and affecting as this music; the richness of the
art, the exquisite taste of the vocal part, the excellence of the voices, the
justness of the execution, everything in these delightful concerts concurs to
produce an impression which certainly is not the mode, but from which I am of
opinion no heart is secure… What vexed me was the iron grate, which suffered
nothing to escape but sounds, and concealed from me the angels of which they
were worthy.”
When he finally met them in person he found them
disappointingly ugly! And yet they
charmed him with their grace and intelligence, so much so that he finally “in spite of my eyes, obstinately continued
to think them beautiful.”
It was for these young women that Vivaldi wrote much of
his music, and they helped to secure his reputation even as he helped build the
Ospedale’s musical stature. Besides
acting as teacher of strings, Vivaldi also filled in for the absent maestro di coro (director of choirs, an
absence that lasted for six years!), and wrote a great deal of sacred choral
music, including his Gloria in D
major. Although he was dismissed from
his post several times for short periods between 1709 and 1716 (no one really
knows why, perhaps because of his temperament and extensive travel, perhaps
because he had trained so many girls as teachers that the Pietà could
economize), and although he spent a great deal of time away from the school promoting
his operas and other music, he was elevated to maestro de’ concertini (director of instrumental music—the board of
governors was really pleased with his compositions) in 1716 and supplied the
Pietà with many concertos. He retained
his connection with the Ospedali until his death, away from home as usual, in
1741.
Imagine two of these young women, almost completely hidden from sight, their voices falling from above, singing this duet from Vivaldi’s
Gloria.
Dr. Linda Gingrich
Artistic director and conductor
Master Chorus Eastside
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