The opera, then, had arrived. But, unaware of the fact, its so-called inventors, caught in the spell of antiquarian research, their imaginations transported by the glories of the classic past, turned their vision back to ancient Greece—to Athens, that prototype of their own city of Florence—where Æschylus unfolds before the eyes of his countrymen a spectacle worthy of the gods. They see no analogy in their madrigals and the dithyrambic chorus of the ancients, no parallel in theirsacre rappresentazioneto the Eleusynian mysteries and Bacchic festivals, but, rejecting all that has gone before, attempt to resurrect the magic power of music as an organic part of human speech, and the revival of the greatest product of classic genius—the Greek tragedy. Such was the purpose of thecamerata, that genial circle of amateurs,literatiand musicians which gathered at the house of Giovanni Bardi, count of Vernio, in Florence, one of those famous ‘academies’ which were the centres of the intellectual life of Italy in the sixteenth century.
Jacopo Peri, an erudite musician and a favorite singer; his younger colleague Giulio Caccini of Rome; the already familiar Emilio de’ Cavalieri, inspector-general of the artists in Florence; Luca Marenzio, the most eminent musician of the city, and Christoforo Malvezzi, all of whom had collaborated on theintermezzito Bardi’sL’Amico fidoin 1589, were, together with Jacopo Corsi, a wealthy and intelligent patron of music, and Vincenzo Galilei, father of the great astronomer, the chief members of the circle, besides the host.These men, liberal thinkers, modernists, literati rather than professional musicians, were out of sympathy with the pedants of the contrapuntal school, the ‘Goths’ against whom Galilei[130]had already published his diatribe in 1551. The Latin translations of Aristoxenus’, Ptolemy’s and Aristotle’s treatises on music, published in 1562, aroused their keenest interest and discussion, and their admiration of the plastic arts which had signalized the Renaissance in the preceding centuries now found an echo in their attempt to reconstruct a lost ideal. In 1585 the great Andrea Gabrieli had written choruses for the solemn performance ofŒdipus Rexat Vincenza, and in 1589 Luca Marenzio wrote a ‘Combat of Apollo and the Dragon,’ drawing his inspiration from the descriptions of theNomos Pythikosof the Greeks (see Chap. IV, p. 127). Convinced, despite the lack of examples, of the greater expressive power of Greek music with the employment of simpler means, Galilei, after long research with the aid of Bardi, now composed for a solo voice and instrumental accompaniment Dante’s ‘Lament of Ugolino,’ in the so-calledstile rappresentativo, the representative style. His experiment proved suggestive if not altogether successful, and the task was next taken up by Caccini,[131]who, with probably more natural talent than Galilei, set himself to the composition of severalcanzonein the new style,a simple cantilena over a figured bass (see Chap. XI, p. 355) which provided a harmonious support to be executed by instruments (lute or theorbo). Endowed with a beautiful and well-cultivated voice, he achieved a genuine success among his sympathetic circle. To make sure of himself, however, he proceeded to Rome, where his new songs were applauded by an assemblage of connoisseurs. Thus encouraged, he appealed to his literary friends for verses in all metres, which he promptly set to music. Some years later (1601) these were published under the titleLa nuove musiche(‘The New Music’) with a remarkable preface, in which their author claims the merit for having originated thestile rappresentativo, and which contains so much technical information for singers that it may well be considered the first vocal method. Caccini’sariewere disseminated largely through his vocal pupils, for they adapted themselves admirably to the beautiful Italian style of singing of which he was one of the first masters. We may mention incidentally that his daughter, Septimia, became one of the famous singers of the period and aroused the admiration of Monteverdi. Her sister, Francesca, achieved distinction both as singer and composer.
Caccini, though he was probably the first to use and secure public acceptance of theariosostyle, was—despite his own claims—not the originator of the true recitative. That distinction belongs to Jacopo Peri, a more learned musician though a less genial personality, who meantime had begun the application of the representative style to the drama.[132]Corsi, the successor of Bardi (now become papal chamberlainin Rome), as host and patron, was a close friend of the poet Ottavio Rinuccini (d. 1623). Both were familiar with the experiments of Cavalieri in the realm of dramatic music. After joint deliberation, the two appealed to Peri ‘to give a simple proof of the power of modern music’ by setting Rinuccini’s dramatic poemDafne, a scene of which had already been experimented with by Bardi. ‘Remembering that it was a question of dramatic poetry and that the melody must at all times be modelled after the words,’ Peri concluded ‘that the ancients employed musical forms which, more elevated than ordinary speech yet less regularly designed than common song melodies, were half-way between the two.’ In an effort to forget every known style, he at first attempted to rediscover thediastematicaof the Greeks, the quarter-tone interval, in the inflections of ordinary speech. According to his own testimony, he closely observed persons speaking, so that he might reproduce as naturally as possible their expressions, whether moderate or passionate. Thus he decided to have quiet expressions sung in half-spoken tones over a resting instrumental bass. In emotional moments, however, the voices proceeded in a more animated tempo and by larger intervals instead of strictly conjunct motion, while the accompaniment indulged in more frequently changing, and sometimes dissonant, harmonies. In other words, he used what we know to-day as recitative.
The importance of the principle thus introduced—the preference of expressive quality to purely musical effect—cannot be plain-song germ of romanticism itself lies in this departure, the elements of Gluck’s reform, of Wagner’s creed, repose in the assertion of Caccini that ‘one is always beautiful when one is expressive.’
Peri’sDafne, after charming the circle of intimates, was performed at the house of Corsi one evening during the carnival of 1597, the composer singing the rôle of Apollo, in the presence of the Grand Duke Ferdinando de Medici, the cardinals dal Monte and Montalto, the poets Piero Strozzi and Francesco Cini and ‘a great number of gentlemen.’ ‘The pleasure and the stupor which seized the audience is inexpressible,’ said Gagliano later in the preface to his ownDafne. Every person there felt that he was in the presence of a new art. Spurred on by this victory, Rinuccini composed hisEuridicefor the festivities occasioned by the marriage of Maria de Medici to Henri IV, king of France, in 1600. Peri again wrote the music, though at the performance, which took place on October 6 at the Pitti palace, some of the numbers of Caccini’s version (composed after Peri’s) were substituted because of Caccini’s influence with the singers. The title rôle was sung by the famous Vittoria Archilei, ‘the Euterpe of Italy,’ while Peri himself impersonated Orpheus. The event not only aroused the greatest enthusiasm among the distinguished assemblage, but its echoes resounded through all the courts of Europe and tremendously stimulated interest in the new art.
The score ofEuridicehas been reprinted in Florence in 1863 and may be examined by the student. It consists of 48 small octavo pages of simple recitative dialogue written over a figured bass, interspersed with five-part choruses in predominatingly diatonic harmony. The preface indicates that the figured bass was executed by a clavier, achitarrone, alira grandeand a large flute (in one place atriflauto—triple flute—is added), but it is not clear how the musicians managed to produce effective harmony without written-out parts. The impoverished quality of the music indicates a distinct retrogression from the contrapuntal compositions of the day, and vastly so when we consider thea capellastyle of Palestrina. Its striking novelty alone accounts for the extraordinary effect it hadupon the hearers. Its value was not in its intrinsic quality but in the direction which it indicated, the path which was to lead to untold riches of sound.
Following closely upon the heels of Peri’s work came the setting of the same poem by Caccini, who had already producedIl rapimento di Caffalo(1597, performed 1600); Marco da Gagaliano (1575-1642) was already at work along similar lines and in 1608 produced hisDafneat Mantua—one year after Monteverdi’s ‘Orfeo’ which, however, marked so great an advance that it might have been written a generation later. Before discussing that master, it will be necessary to consider the utilization of the representative style in another field—that of the sacred drama or oratorio—by Emilio de’ Cavalieri,[133]whose dramatic essays in connection with Laura Guidicioni have already been mentioned.
The origin of the oratorio is twofold: the proseoratorio latinoand the Italianoratorio volgare. The former is derived from the mediæval liturgical plays already spoken of, and the ‘mysteries’ and ‘moralities’ of the fifteenth century are clearly forerunners of it. Theoratorio volgare, a didactic poem independent of scripture text, had its point of departure in theesercizii spirituali(scriptural lessons), instituted by the priest Filippo Neri (afterward canonized) at Rome. He became the founder of the congregation of Oratorians, which regularly met for Bible study under his leadership. On certain evenings of the week his sermons were preceded and followed either by a selection of popular hymns or by the dramatic rendering of a biblical scene. From the place in which these were first enacted, the oratory of the church ofS. Maria in Vallicella, they received their name—Oratorio.
Just as the dramatic madrigal was built upon the style of the secular madrigal, so these sacred dramas probably modelled themselves after the ‘spiritual’ madrigal. While Peri and Caccini were still engaged in their experiments, Cavalieri, in 1600, staged in Neri’s oratory his most important creationLa Rappresentazione di anima e di corpo, slightly antedating Peri’sEuridice. Like that work, it was written in ‘expressive’ style, of which Cavalieri may indeed have been the real originator. Cavalieri’s work belongs to the province of sacred opera, being the first of this important branch of the music drama, which is further represented by such works as Landis’S. Alessio(1637) and Marazolli’s allegorical operaLa Vita humana(1658). It is distinguished from the true non-scenic oratorio, which is associated with the artistic personality Carissimi. To show the distinction between his work and that of Florentines, however, we quote the criticism of hisIl Satiro, by Giovanni Battista Doni, the historian of the Florentine monodists: ‘It must, however, be well understood,’ he says, ‘that these melodies are very different from those of to-day (seventeenth century) which are written in thestile recitativo; the others (of Cavalieri, etc.) are nothing but ariettas with all sorts of artifices and repetitions, echoes and other similar things, having nothing to do with the good and true dramatic music....’
On the other hand, Cavalieri’s own instructions show his wonderful practical knowledge in the performance of opera, and give us an exact idea of the first operatic theatre: ‘The hall should not hold more than a thousand spectators comfortably seated, in the greatest silence. Larger halls have bad acoustics: they make the singer force his voice and they kill expression. Moreover, when the words are not understood themusic becomes tiresome. The number of instruments must be proportioned to the place of performance. The orchestra is invisible, hidden behind the drop. The instrumentation should change according to the emotion expressed. An overture, an instrumental and vocal introduction, are of good effect before the curtain rises. Theritornelleandsinfonieshould be played by many instruments. A ballet, or better a singing ballet, should close the performance. The actor must seek to acquire absolute perfection in his voice, physique, gestures, bearing, and even his walk. He should sing with emotion—as it is written—not one passage like the other; and he must be careful to pronounce his words distinctly, so that he may be heardche siano intese. The chorus should not think they are excused from acting when they do not have to sing. They must feign to listen to what is going on; they must occasionally change their places, rise, sit down, make gestures. The performance should not exceed two hours.... Three acts suffice and one must be careful to infuse variety, not only into the music but also the poem, and even the costumes....’
‘Gluck and Wagner,’ says Romain Rolland, ‘have added little to these rules!’
Thefavolo in musica(it was not called opera as yet) had taken root; its first tender shoots, delectable morsels for a fastidious intellectual aristocracy, nurtured in the soil of princely patronage, had given evidence of hardihood. But it was an exotic, a hot-house plant, limited by its very nature to the homes of aristocracy: in order to flourish and grow to noble proportions it had to bathe in the sunlight of popular favor; it required the care of a master, a genius whosubstituted imagination for synthetic reason, intuition for experiment. That master was Monteverdi. If the works of Peri and Caccini smelt of the midnight oil, there coursed inhiscreations the red blood of humanity. If their music was ‘representative’ of the exact meaning of the word, attuned to the niceties of accent and inflection,hisportrayed the gamut of human passions, the soul itself, even at times violating literary fidelity to reach that greater purpose. While they had ‘thrust upon them’ the honor of creating a new method of expression, he, the musical genius of a century, could deliberately choose between the old and the new—and he chose the new. ‘With him the new evolution began and the new edifice, hardly risen above the ground, became a magnificent monument. Well did he see what was lacking in the conception of the Florentines: he understood that to fight successfully against the resources of counterpoint new riches had to be brought, different but equally valuable. His prodigious inventive genius discovered them: he found them in harmony, in the expressive accent of the monodic chant and in the variety of instrumentation.’
Claudio Monteverdi (in old prints spelled Monteverde, though by himself as here) first saw the light of the world at Cremona, in May, 1567. His father was probably a physician, at any rate a man of culture, who provided for his children an education far above the average. Claudio gave early evidence of musical talent and was placed under the tutelage of Marc’ Antonio Ingegneri, the choirmaster of the cathedral and musical arbiter in Cremona, with whom he studied viola playing, singing and composition. Ingegneri was a composer of genius; hisResponsoria, published anonymously, were for a long time ascribed to Palestrina, and, while worthy to be ranked with that composer’s, they contain harmonies and modulations foreign to his style.
Here, in the master’s originality we seem to find the explanation of his leniency toward his pupils’ vagaries, for Monteverdi from the first showed a most persistent tendency to break the rules of counterpoint. He first appears as composer at the age of sixteen, publishing in 1583 hisMadrigali spiritualifor four voices and in the following year hisCanzonette a tre voci, which were full of irregularities and forbidden progressions. His first book of five-part madrigals was brought out in 1587 and it was evident that he was already reaching out for realms unknown, though perhaps not yet equal to the leap. An extraordinary addiction to dissonances, frequent use of the seventh in suspensions, and a number of unpleasant progressions characterize these otherwise beautiful madrigals, as well as the additional collections, printed in 1590, 1592 and 1603; but they nevertheless became popular, the last two going eventually through eight editions.
Meantime Monteverdi had become an able violist and aroused attention to his playing in high quarters. His virtuosity opened him the doors to the service of Duke Vincenzo di Gonzaga at Mantua, whither he went in 1590 as violist and singer. His modernist tendencies aroused the opposition of local musicians, which, already evident when he becamemaestro di capellain 1602, broke out openly as the madrigals of his fifth book, including the beautifulCruda Amarilli, made their appearance. These drew the fire of Giovanni Maria Artusi, theoretician, andcanonicus regulatisof S. Salvatore, who attacked him in a polemic, ‘On the Imperfections of Modern Music’ (1600), not mentioning his name, but quoting his newest compositions (still in MS.) as examples. The attack is so amusing, and its adherence to the perennial arguments of contemporary criticism so striking that we cannot refrain from quoting it in part.