IL TEATRO ALLA MODA-PART I · I1 Teatro Alla Moda call Dante, Petrarch, and Ariosto obscure,...

IL TEATRO ALLA MODA-PART I By BENEDETTO MARCELLO

Following Reinhard G. Pauly's introductory essay on II Teatro alla Moda, which appeared in our April 1948 issue, we present the first of two instalments which will comprise Marcello's complete work, translated and annotated by Mr. Pauly.- Editor.

IL TEATRO ALLA MODA OR

A sure and easy method to compose well and to produce Italian

operas in the modern fashion. Containing useful and necessary instructions for librettists, composers, for singers of either sex, for

impresarios, orchestra musicians, theatrical engineers, and painters of scenery, for those playing comic parts, for theater tailors, pages, extras, prompters, copyists, for patrons and mothers of female singers [virtuose], and for other persons connected with the theater.

Dedicated by the book's author to the writer of the same. [Picture]

Printed in the Belisania district by Aldiviva Licante, at the sign of the bear in the bark. Sold in Coral Street at the entrance to Or- lando's mansion. To be reprinted yearly with up-to-date additions.

Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo: Unde parentur opes

Horace, Lib. de Arte Poetica[3o6f] * *

The Book's Author to the Writer of the Same To you, dearest writer of this little book, do I dedicate the same.

For I have written this amusing work to please you and to take your mind off the annoying happenings that every new day brings. The language employed may be somewhat plain or coarse, but this is only to facilitate understanding. It is only proper for me to dedicate the work to you, for it belonged to you even before it was published by me. Still, I like to flatter myself by believing that this little essay will be welcomed by all who have some connection with the theater, that it will even be of use to them, for in it one can find a discussion of

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The Musical Quarterly The Musical Quarterly The Musical Quarterly The Musical Quarterly The Musical Quarterly

many subjects which are important to those who want to succeed on the stage of our time. If perchance some malicious slanderers should attack me I shall trust in you alone, hoping that you will know just how to answer and pacify them. To tell you the truth, I am quite aware that there are many people who would just as soon leave things concerning the theater in their present deplorable state. They will assure everyone that my work is but a waste of time, done for vanity alone. Others will no doubt call me a snob who does not appreciate modern art. But we two shall be mutually amused [un piacere scambievole] by the fury of certain people who think that I wrote for their benefit exclusively, while in reality they are only victims of their surroundings and of their time. At them you must laugh especially heartily. Meanwhile I beg you to accept this gift, oh my inseparable friend, for it is offered to you by one who cannot live without you. And remain in good health unless you desire to see me ill. Addio.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR LIBRETTISTS

A writer of operatic librettos, if he wants to be modern, must never have read the Greek and Latin classic authors, nor should he do so in the future. After all, the old Greeks and Romans never read the modern writers.

Nor should he have the slightest knowledge of Italian meter and verse. All he might possibly admit is that he "had heard somewhere" that verses should consist of seven or eleven syllables. This will suffice, and now he can suit his fancy by making verses having three, five, nine, thirteen, or even fifteen syllables.

He should brag, however, that he has had thorough schooling in mathematics, painting, chemistry, medicine, law, etc., and then he should confess that his genius compelled him with such force that he just had to become a poet. Yet he need not have the slightest acquaintance with the various rules concerning correct accentuation or the making of good rhymes. He need not have any command of

poetical language, and mythology and history [from which all opera subjects are drawn] can be closed books to him. To make up for this he will employ in his works as frequently as possible technical terms from the above-named sciences, or from some others, though they may have no relation whatsoever to the world of Poetry. He should

























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call Dante, Petrarch, and Ariosto obscure, clumsy, and dull poets whose works, for that reason, should never, or only very seldom, be used as examples. Instead the modern librettist should acquire a large collection of contemporary writings; from these he should borrow sentiments, thoughts, and entire verses. This sort of theft he should refer to as "laudable imitation".

Before the librettist begins writing he should ask the impresario for a detailed list giving the number and kind of stage sets and decorations he wishes to see employed. He will then incorporate all these into his drama. He should always be on the lookout for elaborate scenes such as sacrifices, sumptuous banquets, apparitions, or other spectacles. When those are to occur in the opera the librettist will consult with the theater engineer [machinist] in order to find out how many dialogues, monologues, and arias will be needed to stretch each scene of that type, so that all technical problems can be worked out without hurrying. The disintegration of the drama as an entity and the intense boredom of the audience are of no importance in connection with all this.'

He should write the whole opera without any preconceived plan but rather proceed verse by verse. For if the audience never under- stands the plot their attentiveness to the very end of the opera will be insured.2 One thing any able modern librettist must strive for is frequently to have all characters of the piece on the stage at the same time, though nobody knows why. They then may leave the stage, one by one, singing the usual canzonetta.3

The librettist should not worry about the ability of the per- formers, but so much more about whether the impresario has at his disposal a good bear or lion, an able nightingale, genuine-looking bolts of lightning, earthquakes, storms, etc.

1 Muratori, op.cit., III, 58: "To comply with the wishes of the theater's managers it will sometimes be necessary to change the plot or the text in order to adapt them to some machine or scene which at any price must be included and shown off to the audience."

2 A summary of the plot was included in most printed librettos. It is an amusing reflection on the unintelligibility of some of these plots to see the argomento for Bisaccioni's Veremonda (music by Cavalli) printed on the very last page of the libretto with the caption "Summary of the opera for those who cannot understand it after having heard and read the same". (Quoted by Malamani, II settecento a Venezia, Turin, 1891, I, 77.)

3 The aria at the end of a scene, the "exit aria", had become a standard device by this time. It was similarly criticized by Villeneuve: "An actor will never leave the stage without bowing to the audience with all musical support, no matter how necessary it might be for him to walk off." Op.cit., p. 194.





























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For the finale of his opera he should write a magnificent scene with most elaborate effects, so that the audience won't run off before the work is half over. He should finish the opera with the customary chorus in praise of the sun, moon, or impresario.

If he decides to dedicate his work to some personage of high position he should be sure that that gentleman has money rather than culture. One-third of the money or other presents the dedication might bring him will go to some influential middle-man who

might be the cook or major-domo of His Highness. This person will also supply information about the number and kinds of titles that should adorn the sponsor's name as it appears on the title page. To these titles must be added a long and imposing string of etc., etc., etc. He should sing hymns of praise to the glory of that person's family and ancestors, and he should not fail to use as frequently as possible terms such as magnanimity and generosity. If he should find nothing in the illustrious personage that is worth praising-which frequently happens-he should declare that he remained "silent in order not to embarrass his modesty, but that Fame with her hundred resounding trumpets will proclaim the glory of his immortal name from one

pole to the other". He should close with a phrase of utmost rever- ence, saying, for instance, that he "kisses the leaps of the fleas on the

legs of the dogs of His Excellency". It is extremely useful for the modern librettist to include a note

to the reader in which he points out that he wrote this opera back in the days of his earliest youth. He might add that it took him only a few days to write the opera-though actually he labored over it for

years-for in that way he will prove that he is truly modern and no longer following the ancient maxim Nonumque prematur in annum [Horace, Ars Poetica, v. 388]. At this point he might well add that he writes "only for his own amusement", as a relief from more serious work. He never dreamed of having his work published: only the urging of his friends and the wishes of his superiors caused him to do so-certainly not any desire for praise, or any financial considerations. Moreover, "the renowned talent of the composer and the skill of the extras and the theater bear will cover up the libretto's deficiencies".

When he sets down the outline of his work in a preface the librettist should embark on a lengthy discourse on the rules of

tragedy and the art of poetry, quoting heavily from Sophocles, Euri-

pides, Aristotle, and Horace. He should not fail to add that any









































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truly modern poet is constrained to abandon all the salient rules in order to please the taste of a decadent century, the licentiousness of the theater, the extravagance of the conductors, the presumption of the singers, and the whims of the trained bear4 and the extras.

Still, he must not neglect the customary explanation of the three most important aspects of any drama, namely unity of place, time, and action. Thus he might give the place as THIS OR THAT THEATER, the time as FROM SEVEN TO ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT [dalle due di notte alle sei],5 and the action as THE RUIN OF THE IMPRESARIO.

The libretto's subject matter need not be historically true. As a matter of fact, since all the Greek and Roman subjects have been treated by the writers of those nations as well as by the choicest writers of the Golden Age of Italian literature, the modern librettist is faced with the task of inventing a fable and adding to it all kinds of oracles, realistic shipwreck scenes, ominous prophecies gathered by examining the flesh of a roasted animal, etc.6 All that is needed is to have an historical name or two on the public announcement of the work, the rest can then be freely invented and the only further thing that matters is that the number of verses must not exceed twelve hundred, arias included. To increase the opera's popularity, the modern librettist will describe in the title one of the work's principal scenes, instead of using the name of one of the characters. For instance, instead of calling it Amadis, Bovo, or Berta al Campo, he will name it The Generous Ingratitude, The Funerals out of Revenge, The Bear in the Bark, and the like.

Real life is imparted to the opera by the use of prisons, daggers, poison, the writing of letters on stage, bear and wild bull hunts, earthquakes, storms, sacrifices, the settling of accounts, and mad scenes. The audience will be deeply moved by unexpected events of

4 The figure of the theater bear is used by Marcello symbolically, throughout his work, to represent the exaggerated importance ascribed to all matters of equipment. The bear is constantly represented as being more important than the opera's text or music.

5 "In Italy they keep time in such a way that the first of twenty-four hours is struck about one and a half hours after sundown." Villeneuve, op.cit., p. 148.

6 "They like battles and other fights especially. Every opera, if it wants to please the parterre, must have one of them. . . . These fights are well executed and also amuse me. I have seen captains arrive leading their troops, seated on beautiful and real horses." De Brosses, op.cit., II, 390.





























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that kind.7 If it should furthermore be possible to introduce a scene in which some actors sit down and doze off8 while an attempt on their lives is being made (which they conveniently thwart by waking up in time), then one would have created something so extremely admirable as has never before been viewed on the Italian stage.

The modern librettist need not worry about his literary style. He must keep in mind that his work is to be heard and understood

by the Frowd of common people. To render it more easily intelligible he should omit the usual articles [in front of nouns], but employ instead unusual and long phrases, and he should include an abundance of flowery language in any recitative or canzonetta.

The librettist then must have at hand a good supply of old operas (by some other writer) from which he will borrow the plot as well

as the stage sets. All he has to change is the meter and the names of some of the characters. He can achieve similar results by translating dramas from the French, by changing prose to verse or tragedies into comedies, adding or omitting characters according to the require- ments of the impresario.

Once he has decided to write an opera he should let nothing stand in his way. If his ingenuity deserts him completely he will enlist the help of some other writer and borrow a plot from him. He will then put it into verse, and both will sign a pact that they will share equally the income derived from the dedication and from the sale of the printed libretto.

One rule of prime importance is never to let a character make his exit before he has sung the usual canzonetta. This is especially appropriate if it immediately precedes that person's execution, suicide, or taking of poison.

The poet must never read the entire work to the impresario. 7 That violent and unexpected events on the operatic stage were popular is ex-

pressed, somewhat before Marcello's date of writing, by Pier Jacopo Martello: "The

librettist should arrange with the composer, who will gladly agree, to have one of these

scene di forza in every act. It might consist either of some violent or unusual clash of

passions or of some event that comes as a surprise to the audience. This arrangement will insure the success of the opera." Della tragedia antica e moderna, 1715. (Quotation from the Bologna edition of 1735, p. 136.)

8 Such "falling-asleep scenes" occur in numerous works of the time, usually under

very unconvincing circumstances. "It must seem ridiculous to anyone to stare at some-

one up on the stage who, being in some garden or prison, says that he desires to

slumber a while. He has hardly sat down when sleep obligingly overcomes him. Then

one hears this sleeping and sweetly dreaming person sing to us about his troubles and

in his sleep call out the name of his loved one-whom the poet with courtesy and great

speed brings on the stage." Muratori, op.cit., III, 72.













































































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Instead he should only show him fragments of a few scenes, but he should recite over and over again the scenes containing the poison- ing, the sacrifices, the divans [delle Sedie], the bear, the dozing off in the garden, and the reckoning scene, and he should swear that if those did not bring the house down he would never write another line.

A good, modern librettist should be careful not to acquire any knowledge about music even though the poets of antiquity were well

acquainted with it, as is related by Strabo, Pliny, and Plutarch. They make no distinction between a poet and a musician but men- tion a good many artists-such as Amphion, Philemon, and Ter-

pander-who were masters in both fields. The aria must in no way be related to the preceding recitative

but it should be full of such things as sweet little butterflies, bou-

quets, nightingales, quails, little boats, little huts, jasmine, violets, copper basins [?], little pots [cavo rame], tigers, lions, whales, crabs, turkeys, cold capon, etc. Thus the poet will demonstrate to the world his proficiency as a natural scientist who, by his well-chosen similes, shows off his knowledge of animals, plants, flowers, etc.9

Before the opera is staged the librettist should praise the music and the singers, the impresario, the orchestra, and the extras. Then, if the work should turn out to be a failure, he should start a tirade against the singers whose performance did not at all do justice to his intentions and who thought of nothing but their notes. He should censure the composer for failing to understand the dramatic force of the scenes since he paid attention to nothing but his arias, the impresario for being a miser who spent nothing on beautiful scenery and props, and the orchestra players and extras for being continually drunk. He should furthermore protest that his dramatic intentions

9 Here Marcello refers to a form particularly disliked by him though universally found in settecento opera: the "comparison aria", in which abstract thoughts are ex-

pressed in flowery language and similes. Gasparini's opera II Bajazet (Venice, 1719, text by Conte Agostino Piovene) contains an abundance of such arias, often in close succession. In scene 12, act 1, violets and roses are compared-in a hardly original manner-with human modesty and pride. In the following scene a little butterfly (farfalletta) is compared with an unsuccessful lover. This aria is somewhat longer than the preceding one, perhaps because of the considerable stretch of imagination necessary for such a comparison. Similar arias occur in the second act and involve the customary rondinella (little swallow), and usignuolo (nightingale). The fashion of writing comparison arias proved extremely tenacious: its great vogue began after Zeno had written his first librettos. When these were revived later they were "corrected" by cutting some of the original scenes and substituting comparison arias. (Max Fehr, A. Zeno und seine Reform des Operntextes, Zurich, 1912, p. 99.)





































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were disregarded altogether, and that he was given direct orders by the management, the ever-dissatisfied prima donna, and the theater bear to cut out some passages and to add others. He should announce that he will insist on publication of the original version, not of that

altogether disfigured present one which he can hardly recognize as his own. If anyone should have any doubts about this [mutilation], let him ask the chambermaid or washwoman at his house: they were the first ones to read the work and to give a critical evaluation of the same.

During the rehearsals he must not reveal any of his dramatic intentions to the actors since he rightly assumes that they will do as they please anyway.

If the work should be such that certain characters have little to do or to sing he should immediately comply with the requests of these singers (or of their rich patrons) to add to their parts. He should always keep at hand a supply of a few hundred arias, in case alterations or additions should be wanted. He should not fail to insert many verses which can be omitted, indicating those by quotation marks.'0

If the plot should require husband and wife to be put into

prison together, and if one of them should have to die, it is abso-

lutely necessary to have the other one stay alive so that he or she can sing an aria of a merry character. This will cheer up everyone in the audience as it will make them realize that, after all, it is all

only make-believe. If two persons should be engaged in love-making, plotting, or

conspiring, the presence of pages and extras is always required. If a letter is to be written, a change of scenery seems called for.

A writing table and a chair should be carried on the stage and after the letter has been written should be removed immediately, so that the belief cannot arise that the table might be standing in its usual

place. The same applies to thrones, armchairs, canopies, and grass- covered, "natural" seats.

In royal palaces he should provide for a ballet of the gardeners and in the countryside for a dance of the courtiers. The ballo di Piroo [? should perhaps be Pirro; according to d'Angeli it refers

10 As the singers acquired increasingly dictatorial positions in the opera they would

frequently omit long passages which afforded no opportunities for vocal display. These -the so-called versi oziosi-appeared in the printed libretto surrounded by quotation marks, to facilitate following during the performance.

























































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either to Zeno's opera by that name or to the Pirrica, a military kind of outdoor dance of ancient Greece] can take place in a hall, a court- yard, in Persia, Egypt, or anywhere else.

The librettist might notice that the singers pronounce their words indistinctly, in which case he must not correct them. If the virtuosos should see their mistake and enunciate clearly the sale of the libretto might be seriously impaired.

If some of the actors should ask him from where they are to go on the stage and in which direction they should make their exit, or if they have questions about acting or costumes he will tell them to do all of these things in any way they have a mind to.

The composer might express a dislike for the meter in some of the arias, in which case the librettist must change it at once. To suit the composer's fancy he might also add a breeze, storms, fog, south- ern, eastern, and northern winds.

A good number of the arias should be so long that it will be impossible to remember the opening bars by the time the middle has been reached.

There should be no more than six roles in the opera, and two or three of the six ought to be so unimportant that they can be left out if necessary, without any harm to the plot.

The parts of the father and of the tyrant-assuming that they are

principal parts-must be given to castrati, and the bass and tenor

parts should be left to such characters as captains of the guard, friends of the king, shepherds, messengers, etc.

Librettists who do not enjoy great fame or credit will make a living during the rest of the year, when the opera season is over, by taking care of legal matters, administrative affairs, by supervising other people's businesses, by copying parts and proofreading, and by trying to ruin each other's reputations.

The librettist should ask the manager for a box and sublet half of its seats many months before the season begins, but especially for all first performances. The remaining half of the box he should fill with his friends whom he will smuggle in somehow, without their having to pay the customary fee at the door.

The librettist should pay frequent social calls to the prima donna, since the success of the opera generally depends on her. He should change his drama as her artistic genius may order him to do, making additions or cuts in her part or that of the bear or other persons. But he must be on his guard not to reveal to her anything about the

















































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opera's plot-the modern virtuosa is not supposed to know anything about that. He might possibly inform her most gracious mother, her father, brother, or patron, but the greatest secrecy must be used.

He should also visit the maestro di cappella, read him the libretto several times and point out to him where the recitative has to go slowly and where rapidly or appassionato, since the modern composer must not be bothered with such decisions. He will then urge him to include in the arias short ritornelli and embellishments (and, above all, many word repetitions) since all these add so much to the enjoyment of his work. Finally, he must pay his respects to the orchestra, to the tailors, to the theater bear, the errand boys, and to the extras, recommending his opera to their kindness."

INSTRUCTIONS FOR COMPOSERS

The modern composer should not know any rules about composition except some vague generalities. He need not understand the numerical proportions in their relation to music, the advantages of

contrary motion or the disadvantages of tritones or hexachords with the b-natural. He need not know how many modes there are or how to distinguish them, or how they are divided, or what their character- istics are. Instead he might declare on this subject that there are

only two modes, namely major and minor; the former with the

major third and the latter with the minor third. He need not take the trouble to point out what the ancients understood by a major [i.e., large] and minor [small] tone.

He will not see any difference between diatonic, chromatic, and enharmonic genera, but he must jumble up all three within a single

11 The position of the librettist as everybody's servant was deplored by many settecento writers on opera. "Dependent on the mercy of the impresario, the orders of the composer, and subjected to the caprices of the singers, they are authors only in name." Arteaga, Les revolutions du thedtre musical en Italie, London, 1802, p. 92 (first publ. in Italian, 1783). Metastasio, in a letter addressed to Farinelli (1752), describes his difficulties in Vienna. The empress desires a new libretto but "Greek and Roman

subjects are excluded from my jurisdiction because these nymphs [the female singers] are not to exhibit their chaste limbs, so that I must have recourse to oriental history . . The contrast of vice and virtue is impracticable in these dramas because no one of the troupe will act an odious part. Nor can I avail myself of more than five person- ages . . . The time of representation, the changes of scene, the airs, and almost the number of verses are limited: now pray tell me, if all these embarrassments would not make a patient man mad?" Quoted by Burney, Memoirs of the life and writings of the Abate Metastasio, London, 1796, II, i6.









































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canzonetta. With such a modernistic confusion he can distinguish himself over the composers of antiquity.

He will employ the accidentals which indicate large or small half tones completely arbitrarily. In the same spirit of generosity he will use the enharmonic sign when the chromatic sign is called for, saying that both mean the same thing, raising a note a small half tone. Thus he will show himself to be completely ignorant, for the chromatic

sign should be employed to divide whole tones and the enharmonic

sign to divide half tones, it being the special function of the enharmonic sign to divide the large semitones, and no others. But the modern maestro di cappella (as said above) must not have the

slightest knowledge of this matter and of related ones. To insure his arriving and staying at such a state of ignorance

he should not be able to read fluently, or to write a single sentence. Needless to say he should not know any Latin at all, though he will

compose pieces for the Church. In these he can write sarabandes, gigues, and courantes which he will call fugues, canons, or double

counterpoints.'2 As to the theater, the modern composer should know nothing

about it; he should have no understanding of poetry or diction, of long and short syllables, or of the general possibilities of the stage.

If the composer plays the cembalo he should be quite ignorant of the properties of string or wind instruments. Should he be a string player, however, he must not take the trouble to find out a few things about the cembalo. Instead he should be convinced that one does not need such knowledge or facility in order to compose well in the modern style.

On the other hand, it might be quite useful for a composer to have spent many years playing the violin or viola, or copying music for some famous composer. From the latter he might have appro- priated some manuscripts of operas or serenades, and he can steal from these and other compositions themes for use in ritornelli, over- tures, arias, recitatives, variations on La Follia, and choruses.

Before accepting a libretto he should tell its writer that he wants this or that meter used in it, and that there should be so and so many verses to each aria. He should also demand that the manuscript be

carefully written, with much attention given to correct punctuation. 12 "It cannot be denied that the style in vogue at the present time was invented to

conceal with the label modern the lack of training in the difficult subject of counter-

point." Tosi, Opinioni de' cantori antichi e moderni, Bologna, 1723, p. 77.





























































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Of course, when he starts to compose he must disregard such things as periods, commas, or question marks.l3

Before he actually starts to write the music, the composer should

pay calls to all the female singers in the company and offer to include anything they would care to have, such as arias without a bass in the accompaniment, furlanette, rigadoons, etc., all with the violins, the bear, and the extras accompanying in unison.l4

He must not allow himself to read the entire libretto, as that might confuse him. Rather he should compose it verse by verse and insist immediately that all arias be written over [by the librettist]. This is the only way in which he will be able to utilize all the melodies that had come into his head during the summer. But if the words to these arias should again fail to fit the notes properly- and that happens most commonly-he will continue to harass the librettist until the latter satisfies him completely.

All arias. should have an instrumental accompaniment and care should be taken to have every part move in exactly the same note values, whether they are eighths, sixteenths, or thirty-seconds. Noise is what counts in modern music, not harmonious sound which would consist mainly of diverse note values, of the interchanging of tied and accented notes. To avoid this true kind of harmony the modern

composer should not employ anything more daring than a four- three suspension, and that only in the cadence. If that seems a bit old-fashioned to him he can make up for it by finishing the piece with all instruments playing in unison.

He must not forget that happy and sad arias should alternate

'3 "Composers ought to follow and study whatever,falls into their hands [to be set to music]. It seems foolish, however, to hope in our time that they would acquaint themselves thoroughly with the text so that they can write their notes in accordance with it. For they are after one thing only, and that is to exhibit themselves." Quadrio, Della storia e della ragione d'ogni poesia, Bologna and Milan, 1739, Lib. III, Dist. IV,

Capo III.

14 Accompaniments in which one or more orchestral instruments played in unison or in octaves with the voice part were quite common and fashionable around the turn of the century. They seemed especially despicable to Marcello, the student and master of harmony, when no bass instrument supported the melody parts. Giovanni Porta's

Argippo (Venice, 1717) is a typical work of this kind. In this score practically every aria bears the notation primi violini colla parte, and the flutes are often similarly employed. This is carried to the extreme in the second act (scene 6, aria di Mesio) where instrumental bass and voice are in octaves throughout. Under the first measure the words tutti con il basso appear, so that the entire orchestra plays in unison with the voice.









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throughout the opera, from beginning to end, regardless of any meaning of text, music, or stage action.

If nouns such as "father", "empire", "love", "arena", "kingdom", "beauty", "courage", "heart", should appear in the aria the modern

composer should write long coloraturas over them. This applies also to "no", "without", and "already" and other adverbs. It will serve to

bring about a little change from the old custom of using coloratura

passages only over words expressing an emotion or some movement, for instance, "torment", "sorrow", "song", "fly", "fall".15

In the recitatives the modulations should not follow any law or order and the bass should move as frequently as possible.

As soon as he has completed a scene the composer, if he is married to a Virtuosa, will read it to her, or else to his servant, copyist, or anyone else.

Ritornelli should serve as introductions to all arias; they should be quite lengthy,16 with violins playing in unison, usually in sixteenth or thirty-second notes. They should be performed mezzo piano, which would be novel and less tiring. There should be no connection between the ritornello and the following aria.

There must be no bass in the accompaniment to an aria. To keep the singer from straying he should be accompanied by violins in unison; in such a case a few bass notes might be given to the violas but this is ad libitum. When the Singer has reached the cadenza the conductor will stop the entire orchestra and give completely free rein to virtuoso or virtuosa.

The composer should not wear himself out writing duets or 15 "Even when the sense of an aria breathes a roused and furious tendency, yet if

the words 'father' or 'son' be in the text the composer never fails to slacken his notes . . . In our opinion he has entirely spoiled all with such a dissonance of expression ... The duty of the composer is to express the sense not of this or that particular word but the comprehensible meaning of all the words in the text." Algarotti, A reprint of his "Essay on Opera", R. Northcott, ed., London 1917, p. 30.

16 "How tediously prolix are these ritornelli which precede [the arias], nay, and often how superfluous. For can anything be more improbable than that, in an expres- sive air of wrath, an actor should calmly wait with his hand stuck in his sword-belt until the ritornello be over, to give vent to a passion that is supposed to be boiling in his breast!" Algarotti, op.cit., p. 29. Villeneuve points out that if two persons are present on the stage at such a time at least they can gesticulate or engage in a "silent conversation", but if there is only one "that unfortunate person can do nothing but promenade around the stage and inspect every piece of scenery, one after another, arriving [with his eyes] back at the orchestra precisely at the moment his aria begins". (Quoted by Haas, Josse de Villeneuve's Brief iiber den Mechanismus der italienischen Oper von 1756, in Zeitschrift fiir Musikwissenschaft, VII [1924], 140.)

















































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choruses; those he might write will be left out of the opera anyway [Quali ancora procurera si levino dall'Opera].17

Every modern composer should drop an occasional remark that he writes in a rather popular style and violates the rules frequently only in order to satisfy his audience. He will thus blame the taste of the listeners who, it is true, sometimes like bad music because that is what is performed and because they are not given a taste of better compositions.

He should lend his services to the impresario for very little and consider the thousands of scudi that have to be paid to the famous singers. For that reason he should be satisfied with less pay than the least of them, though he should not stand for the injustice of receiving less than, the theater bear or the extras.18

Whenever the composer walks in the company of virtuosos, and especially of castrati, he should let them walk on the right side; he should carry his hat in his hand and stay one pace behind, remembering that the lowest of them, in the opera, represents at least a

general or captain in the king's or queen's guard. He should speed up or slow down the tempo of the arias accord-

ing to every whim of the singer and he should swallow all their im-

pertinences, remembering that his own honor, esteem, and future are at their mercy. For that reason he will change, if desired, their arias, recitatives, sharps, flats, naturals, etc.

All canzonettas should consist of the same ingredients, namely long embellishments, syncopation, chromatic progressions, distorted

syllables, repetitions of insignificant words, e.g., Amore Amore, Im- pero Impero, Europa Europa, fuori fuori, orgoglio orgoglio. The modern composer, when he writes an opera, must always keep before his eyes a list of all the above-named things, and no aria is complete unless it contains a few of them. This will enable the composer to

stay away from variety, a quality that is no longer fashionable.

17 Choruses at the time of Marcello usually came at the end of each act, especially the last act, though there are many operas without any choruses. De Brosses expressed astonishment at the lack of ensemble scenes in Italian opera: "Almost all their arias are for one voice only. There are hardly two or three duets in an entire opera, and almost never any trios." Op.cit., II, 381.

1 "These composers are poorly paid: the manager gives them thirty or forty pistoles and that is all they receive except for what the first printing of the arias brings them. They sell these at a high price while they are new, for once they have been made public and are copied the composer can draw no further gain from them." De Brosses, op.cit., II, 361.

















































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Whenever a recitative ends in a flat key he must quickly add to it an aria in a key with three or four sharps; then a recitative in the first key will follow-all this for the sake of novelty. The maestro will distort similarly the significance and feelings found in the words. This applies particularly to the arias in which he will allow the Virtuoso to sing the first verse (meaningless as that may be all by itself), after which he will place a long ritornello played by violins and violas.

Should the modern composer be the teacher of some opera Virtuosa he must urge her to pronounce everything indistinctly. For this purpose he must teach her a great many flashy ornaments and rapid passages. Thus no one will understand a single word, the music will stand out better and consequently be more fully understood.

The violins may accompany the singing without cembalos or other instruments furnishing a bass. This so-called accompaniment may cover up the voice part, but this is of no importance and happens frequently in arias for alto, tenor, or bass.

The modern composer must also write canzonettas for alto or mezzo soprano in which the bass instruments [i.e., double bass, 'cello, and cembalo] play the melody exactly as rendered by the singer, only that they transpose it down several octaves. The violins, on the other hand, will double it in the higher octave. In the score the composer will write out all these voices and he will call his aria a three-part composition though, of course, it actually consists of but one part, doubled in various registers.

In any four-part compositions the modern composer absolutely must have two parts play in unison or octaves. He might vary the

speed with which these parts move, i.e., if one of them moves in

quarter or eighth notes the other will move in sixteenths or thirty- seconds.

A bass part that moves in eighth notes [chrome] should be called a chromatic bass by the modern composer, for he does not know the true meaning of the term "chromatic". This is only natural in view of his ignorance of poetry which has been mentioned above. Knowl-

edge of this kind was necessary for the musicians of antiquity such as Pindar, Arion, Orpheus, Hesiod, and others who, according to Pausanias, excelled in poetry as well as in music. Every modern

composer should try his best to be different from them. He should cheer up his audience with ariettas containing pizzi-









































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cato and muted passages in the orchestra, as well as trombe marine and cymbals [? piombe].

He might demand from the impresario (aside from his salary) that he be given a librettist, as a present, whom he could use in any way he sees fit. As soon as the opera is composed in its entirety he will play it for his friends who will understand none of it. On the basis of their suggestions he will then change ritornelli, embellishments, appoggiaturas, enharmonic sharps and chromatic flats [diesis enarmonici, b molli cromatici].

The modern composer should not fail to write the customary recitative over a bass moving in chromatic progressions, with orchestral accompaniment. For this purpose he will order from the librettist a scene containing a sacrifice, or a mad scene, or a dungeon scene.

He should never write an aria with a bass [cembalo] accompaniment only, for he should realize that they are no longer in vogue and that in the time spent on one of them he might write a dozen arias with an orchestral accompaniment.

If he should actually decide to write an aria con bassi the latter should consist of no more than two or three repeated notes, or of tied notes in the manner of an organ point. And he should be sure to include middle sections in each aria which he stole from some other composer.

If the impresario complains about the music the composer should

protest against such grave injustice and point out that the work contains one-third more notes than usual and that he spent almost

fifty hours on its composition.19 If some aria should not please the Virtuosa or her protectors he

should tell her that with the proper stage effects, with orchestra,

lighting, and extras it will sound altogether different, and that one should listen to it in that setting.

At the end of each ritornello the conductor (at the cembalo) will cue the singers in by nodding his head; they will never come in at the proper moment otherwise, considering the length and complex- ity of the modern ritornello.

19 What feats of rapid production were brought about then can be gathered from the preface to a libretto printed in 1692 (Giovanni Matteo Giannini's Onorio in Roma, music by Pollarolo) in which the reader is notified that it had been "outlined in a few

moments, put into verse in less than a day, composed by Signor C. Polarolo in little less than a week. This is no fairy tale, believe it or not, but it is the real truth." Son-

neck, Catalogue of opera librettos printed before 1800, Washington, 1914, I, 823.

























































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Some arias should be composed in the style of a bass aria though they will be sung by altos and sopranos.

The modern composer must insist that the impresario hire a large orchestra for him, with violins, oboes, horns, and other instruments. He might save him the expense of double bass players, however, since he has no use for them except for tuning up before the opera starts.

The overture consists of a movement in French style, or prestis- simo passages in sixteenth notes, in major. This must ordinarily be followed by a [contrasting] section, piano, in the parallel minor key, following which the overture will be brought to a close with a minuet, gavotte, or gigue, again in major. Thus one can get around writing fugues, suspensions, or clear-cut themes-which are ancient and outmoded anyway.

The composer-conductor must see to it that the best arias are always given to the prima donna. In the event that some cuts in the opera become necessary these must never be made in the arias or ritornelli. It would be better to omit entire scenes with recitatives, the bear, and the earthquake.

The seconda donna might complain that her part contains fewer notes than that of the prima donna.20 The conductor then must con- sole her and make up this shortcoming by adding all kinds of coloratura passages to her arias, as well as embellishments and artful frills [passi di buon gusto].

The modern composer will utilize old arias written by foreign composers. He will also be extremely courteous towards protectors, musical amateurs, concessionaires of boxes, extras, and stage hands, and he will pay his respects to all of them.

If a canzonetta should need some changes he should never substitute anything that might be considered an improvement. Any aria that does not meet with success and popularity he will call a master- piece which has been "murdered" by the singers and which is "way beyond the audience". During arias without a cembalo accompaniment he will blow out the candles, allowing his head to cool off

20 Such counting of lines and notes was actually resorted to. Kretzschmar describes a situation of this kind in which the prima donna was not satisfied that her part in the next opera was really going to be the leading one until the impresario sent her the libretto, pointing out to her that her part was forty-one lines longer than that of the seconda donna. Beitrdge zur Geschichte der venezianischen Oper, in his Gesammelte Aufsitze, II (1911), 348.

































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somewhat. He will light the candles again in time for the next recitative.

The modern composer should show himself extremely attentive towards all female opera stars. He should regale them with presents -some old cantatas which he transposed to suit their range-and he should assure every one of them that she was the one with whom the opera would stand or fall. This he should also say to all the other

singers, to everyone in the orchestra, to the supers, the bear, and to the earthquake.

He should smuggle some masked friends21 past the ticket control every night and offer them seats near him in the orchestra pit. If there is not enough room for them to be comfortable some 'cellist or bass player may be given the evening off.

All modern conductors should see to it that the following notice

appears on the printed program, below the dramatis personae: "The music is by the eternally famous Signor Soandso, maestro di cappella, director of concerts, chamber music, dances, fencing matches, etc., etc."

INSTRUCTIONS FOR MALE SINGERS

The modern Virtuoso should never have practised solfeggio dur-

ing his student days or later on in his career; there would be too much danger that he might finish his notes properly, or that he

might sing in tune and in time. And this would be entirely out of

keeping with modern practice. To become a virtuoso a singer need not be able to read or write,

or to pronounce correctly vowels and diphthongs, nor does he have to understand the text. He must be an expert, however, at disregard- ing sense and at mixing up letters and syllables in order to show off

flashy passages, trills, appoggiaturas, endless cadenzas, etc. He should accept nothing but leading parts, and as to his fee,

he should have the impresario put a figure into his contract that amounts to one-third more than what he will actually receive. This will have to be done for the sake of the singer's reputation.22

21 The wearing of masks at all public entertainments was prescribed by the Vene- tian government for many years. Minute regulations about dress in public places and

about the hours when the performance had to be finished were also issued. Wiel, I teatri musicali veneziani, Venice, 1897, p. lviii.

22 In Goldoni's l'lmpresario delle Smirne (Venice, 1761) the castrato Carluccio

insists on such a "fake" contract. He first unsuccessfully negotiates for a salary of three

hundred zecchini but finally agrees to a mere fifty. "However, for the sake of my

reputation, I demand a scrittura simulata stipulating five hundred, as well as the guarantee of a banker."

















































































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Masked audience in the foyer of a Venetian theater (early 18th century) Contemporary drawing by Guardi





The castrato Senesino singing a duet with Francesca Cuzzoni Anonymous satirical print, possibly by Hogarth, c. 1725






If he can acquire the habit of complaining that he is in bad voice, that he hasn't sung a note in ages, that he is half-dead with a terrible cold, headache, toothache, and stomach-ache, he will have proved that he is a real modern virtuoso.

He should always find fault with his part: its character does not fit his personality at all and the arias present no challenge to his

ability. In such a case he will simply substitute some little number

by another composer, assuring everyone that at this or that court where a certain very famous personality resided (making sure not to disclose the name) it had been a "terrific hit" and that he had been forced to give seventeen encores at every performance.

At the rehearsals he should sing everything mezza voce and in the arias he should follow whatever tempo seems to suit him at the moment. During stage rehearsals his favorite position should be with one hand holding on to his vest while the other one is firmly anchored in his trouser pocket. His main concern should be that

during the messa di voce no one can understand a syllable of what he is singing.

He should always keep his hat on, even if some illustrious person should address him, for otherwise he might catch cold. Even when

greeting someone he should never lift his hat, always keeping in mind that he impersonates a prince, king, or emperor.

At the performance he should sing with his mouth half-closed and with his teeth firmly pressed together-in short, he should do

everything to prevent the understanding of a single word,23 and in the recitatives he should be sure to disregard periods and commas.

In an ensemble scene, when addressed by another character or while the latter might have to sing an arietta, he should wave greetings to some masked lady-friend in one of the boxes, or smile sweetly to someone in the orchestra or to one of the supers. In that way it will be made quite clear to the audience that he is Alipio Forconi, the famous singer, and not the Prince Zoroastro whose part he is

playing.24 23 "Because of the singers' ignorance one can hardly ever understand the sense (to

say nothing of the words) of their parts, for they alter and distort all the vowels . . . If one does not keep the libretto handy where all they sing has been printed I am sure that no one in the audience would understand the action or even the general subject of what is being represented on the stage." Muratori, op.cit., III, 59.

24 Tosi similarly objects to "the malicious practice of established singers who, by talking or laughing with their companions on the stage, want to indicate to the public that they do not fear or envy the applause of this or that singer who is making his debut". Op.cit., p. o16.

























































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While the orchestra plays the introduction to his aria he should take a stroll backstage, take some snuff, inform his friends that he is not in good voice tonight, and that he has a bad cold. When he gets around to singing his aria he should think of one thing only, and that is to take all the time he wants for the cadenza, filling it with

passage work and with fashionable ornaments as he sees fit. The conductor, during all this, will rest his hands by taking them off the keyboard; he will also take some snuff and wait patiently until the singer has decided to come to an end. Before embarking on the final trill the singer should take several good, deep breaths. He should then execute the trill fortissimo from the very beginning rather than em- ploying the messa di voce, and he should seek out for this trill the highest note he can reach.

He may be as capricious as he wants to in his acting, for the modern Virtuoso must not understand the meaning of the words he is singing. Thus it is not necessary for him to plan any of his gestures or steps, and he will always enter from the same direction as the prima donna does, or else from [the wing nearest to] the singers' box.

When he reaches the repeat in the da capo aria he should change it completely in any way he pleases, regardless of whether or not these changes will go with the accompaniment of bass or violins, and whether they will distort the tempo entirely. This is of no importance for, as was already said, the composer has become resigned to such things.

When the Virtuoso impersonates a prisoner or slave he should

appear on the stage wearing a well-powdered wig, a costume richly adorned with jewels, an imposing crest on his helmet, a sword, and long, shiny chains. The latter he should rattle noisily and frequently in order to arouse feelings of compassion in the audience.25

He should try to obtain the protection of some famous personality, so that he can sign himself as his Court Virtuoso, Chamber Virtuoso, Backwoods Virtuoso, etc.

25 The singer's vanity and lack of education were frequently apparent in his choice of costume. Contrary to modern custom, this choice was left up to him, for in most cases the singer had to furnish his own wardrobe with the sole exception of exotic costumes which included only a few types, such as Chinese or Turkish dress. "Fedra or Ippolito would appear on the stage in costumes that were entirely out of character;

they looked so much like two gentlemen who had just arrived from Paris that the

spectators could not refrain from wishing them a hearty welcome." Planelli, Dell'opera in musica, Naples, 1772, p. 180.









































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Whenever the impresario's financial reliability is questionable the

singer will demand that someone post a bond for him [pieggiaria]. Also he will ask for an advance payment to cover travelling and other

expenses. Should he be unsuccessful with these demands he will sing just the same and accept tickets, boxes for the season, and compli- ments and bows instead.

The modern virtuoso should not agree too readily to sing at some social gathering. When he finally does consent he should first

post himself in front of a mirror, adjust his wig, straighten his cuffs, and casually lift up his scarf [fazoletto da collo] so that the inevitable diamond collar button will show. Then he should reluctantly bang out a few notes on the cembalo, sing from memory and start over a few times as if he just couldn't sing today. When the piece with which he has favored his audience is over he should ostentatiously sit down and talk to some lady, all the while hoping for some applause, and then tell her about his travel adventures, and his literary and

political affairs. He might then discuss the subject of genius, or, with

many sighs and soulful looks, talk about one of his former love affairs, all the time shaking some stray curl from his wig back over his shoulder. Every other minute he should offer her some snuff, each time out of a different box showing his portrait. He might let her

inspect some large diamond on which coloratura passages, cadenzas, and trills have been artistically engraved, along with some especially striking scene [scena di forza], some sonnets, and some bears killed in a hunt. This, he will say, was cut for him on the orders of one of his extremely well-known protectors; only respect for the same held him [the virtuoso] back from offering it to her as a gift.

Walking in the company of some great literary person the modern virtuoso should never allow him to take the right side, for it stands to reason that most people consider any Singer a Virtuoso but any literary man just an ordinary human being. With this in mind he will urge this educated person to consider the possibility of be- coming a Singer himself, one of the more weighty reasons being that Singers (aside from being held in great esteem by all) always have lots of money, while learned people usually die of starvation.

Whenever the Virtuoso has to play a woman's part he should carry on his person a little box [? bustino] with a supply of artificial moles, rouge, and a pocket mirror. He should also shave twice daily.

The modern Virtuoso should demand a sizable salary since he has to live all year long as a captain or general with an army, or as a













































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prince, king, or emperor with his court, ministers, and counselors. He should show his generosity by presenting his old gloves, shoes, and socks to his servant, especially if the latter should be somewhat related to him. While the singer tries to come to terms with the impresario this servant will take some prompter or orchestra musician to a quiet corner and tell him all kinds of tall stories about his master, Signor Alipio. He will hint that it would be greatly to the impresario's advantage to hire this singer on the spot, sight unseen, for he has never been known to make a single mistake no matter where he has sung, nor does he ever tire or catch cold, and to top it all, he knows all the latest trills, cadenzas, and so on.

All the above instructions apply [not only to the castrati but] also if the singer should be a tenor or bass. It must be added that a bass should endeavor to sing in the highest tenor range whereas the tenor should descend as far as he can into the bass range. The tenor, however, should also climb up into the region of the altos by singing falsetto. He will disregard the throaty or nasal tone qualities that will result in the respective cases.

Since Tenors and Basses know everything about composition they should substitute their own arias in all but the very newest operas. During the performance they should beat time with their hands and feet.

If the virtuoso is a soprano or alto he should have some good friend who will spread favorable publicity about him; who will tell

people ("let the truth be known") that the singer comes from a dis-

tinguished and honored family and that a most dangerous disease had forced him to undergo that certain operation. Also, that one of his brothers is a lecturer in philosophy, another one a doctor; that he has a sister who is a nun [monaca da Officio] and another one who is married to one of the town's leading citizens.

If the libretto calls for a duel and if the virtuoso is supposed to receive an arm wound he should nevertheless continue to gesticulate with that arm as if nothing had happened. If he is to take poison he should first sing his aria holding the cup in his hand and waving it around to show that it is empty. He should have a few stock gestures for hands, knees, and feet; these he should alternate from the beginning to the final curtain of the opera.

If he should make mistakes in the same aria several times, or if it does not bring any applause, he should say that it was not written for the stage, or that it is impossible to sing it and that another one

































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I1 Teatro Alla Moda I1 Teatro Alla Moda I1 Teatro Alla Moda I1 Teatro Alla Moda I1 Teatro Alla Moda 393 393 393 393 393

should be substituted. He might add that on the stage the singer should shine, and not the maestro di cappella.

He should always court the virtuose and their protectors, and he should never give up hope of obtaining (through his proverbial "virtue" and "exemplary modesty") the titles of count, marquis, cavaliere, etc.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE CANTATRICE

It is of prime importance that the modern prima donna start her career before she has reached the age of thirteen. At that time she need not know much about reading; just as the [adult] stars of the present day do not. All that is really necessary for her is to memorize thoroughly a few old operatic arias, along with some minuets and cantatas which she will render at every possible occasion. The study of solfeggio should not be one of her past or present endeavors: this would be as dangerous for her as it was-as has been mentioned-for the modern Virtuoso.

If an impresario should write to her and offer her a role she should not answer too promptly. When she does reply she should advise him that she cannot make a decision in such haste since she has to consider other offers-whether she has any or not. If and when she finally does accept she should insist on getting the leading part.

If she does not succeed in getting that she should sign the contract anyway, accepting a secondary, or third, or even fourth role. Like the male singer, she should insist on a fake contract that looks more advantageous than it actually is.26 If she has an uncle, brother, father, or husband who is an instrumentalist, singer, dancer, or

composer she will stipulate that he be employed, too. 26 The prima donna's habit of inserting-or trying to insert-exorbitant stipula-

tions in her contract is thus ridiculed by Metastasio in his La cantante e l'impresario: Dorina (singer): Ci porr6 che io non recito

Se non da prima donna, e non voglio Che la parte sia corta.

Nibbio (impres.): Signora, non importa. Dorina: Che l'autor de' libretti

Sia sempre amico mio, voglio ancora. Nibbio: Non importa, Signora. Dorina: E che oltre l'onorario ella mi debbe

Dar sorbetti e caffe, Zucchero ed erba tb, Ottima cioccolata con vaniglia, Tabacco di Siviglia, Di Brasile e d'Avana, E due regali almen' la settimana.


















































She must demand that her part be sent to her as soon as possible; Maestro Crica will have to teach it to her, complete with variations,

passage work, and other embellishments. Under no circumstances must she try to understand the meaning of any of the words-not by herself, nor with the help of someone else's explanations.

She should be sure to have among her acquaintances some lawyer or doctor who can give her lessons in how to move her arms, stamp her feet, turn her head, blow her nose, etc., but he should not give her any reason for executing any of these motions, for that would confuse her completely. She must ask Maestro Crica to write for her all embellishments in a book especially provided for that purpose, and she will carry that book with her no matter where she goes.

When the impresario visits her for the first time she must not yet allow him to hear her sing but she must say to him (with her mother, as always, at her side): "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to sing for you tonight; I just didn't sleep a wink all last night. Everyone on that boat made such a terrible noise; they acted as if possessed. Two or three of those rascals smoked a pipe; one couldn't see through all that smoke, and I still have a headache from it." And the Mother will chime in: "Ah, my dear Signor Impresario, the inconveniences one has to put up with on these blessed journeys!"

When the impresario then comes back the second time to hear

her, bringing the conductor with him, she will fuss around for hours, make a thousand excuses, and then finally oblige with an old war- horse such as the cantata Impara a non dar Fede. Then, when she

gets stuck in the middle because she forgot how one of the embellishments goes, she will turn to her mother, and out of the suitcase comes that book with the embellishments which she never manages to sing correctly. She will hasten to explain that she is sorry, "but I haven't

sung this piece in ages, and furthermore this instrument is tuned somewhat higher than my own, and the recitative is too melancholy, and the aria just isn't in my style". She will go on in this fashion for a while, though of course the real reason for her failure is that Maestro Crica is not there as usual to accompany her.

(D.: Put down that I shall not have to sing unless I am given the leading part, and it must not be a short one either.

N.: Anything, Signora. D.: I also demand that only friends of mine be employed to write the librettos. N.: Certainly, Signora. D.: And that I shall receive from you, aside from my salary, the following: sherbet

and coffee, sugar and tea, the very best chocolate made with vanilla, tobacco from Seville, Brazil, and Havana, and at least two presents every week.)













































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In the middle of the aria the Virtuosa might suffer a coughing spell, and Her Excellency, the Mother, will intervene: "To tell the truth, this piece didn't arrive until practically yesterday, and she is actually sightreading it now. But you should hear her do the arias from Giustino and Faramondo which are better than this one anyway. And then there is that aria with the 'cold winter' and 'burning passion', and the one that goes 'cosi, cosi, cosi' and the one with the 'non si puo', to say nothing of that wonderful scene with the handkerchief and dagger, and the mad scene. Why, when that girl finishes any one of these everyone is at her feet."

The cantatrice should procure letters of recommendation to ladies of the nobility, to gentlemen of distinction, and to nuns. These letters she will present when paying courtesy calls to these people. If these visits do not result in frequent presents she must refrain from further ones, giving her "great respect" as the reason.

It might also be most useful to her to make the acquaintance of some rich and generous businessman, as she might charm him into providing wine, wood, and coal for her, along with other necessities. He might even invite her frequently to have dinner at his house, or he might escort her to some dinner party.

If her rent should become more than she can pay she might move into a small apartment-"because it's nice and close to the theater". When some important or wealthy person calls on her there she will say: "I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, to have you come to such a miserable little hole-it does look pretty much like one of the cattle pens down by the market, doesn't it? Well, one just has to do the best one can in order to be close to the theater. Back home, of course, I have a nice little house-modest, to be sure, but frequented by very refined people exclusively."

She should endeavor to find her special and most industrious protector whose name will be Signor Procolo. She should also follow the example of the virtuoso mentioned above and suffer from perpetual coughs, headcolds, influenza, headaches, throataches, and hip- aches, and lament: "Heavens, what kind of town is this, anyway? My head is heavy as a brick from the terrible air, and the local bread and wine make me so sick that I am half dead."

The librettist together with the impresario may call on her and read to her from the opera. In that case she will pay little if any attention to her own part, yet she will demand just the same that it be changed to suit her individuality, that some lines of the recitative

























395 395 395 395 395


be skipped and others added. She will make similar demands for the lamentation scenes, the mad scenes, and the despairing scenes [scene di Disperazioni].

She should always be late for rehearsals. When she does show up, escorted by [her zealous protector] Signor Procolo, she should greet everyone with smiling and winking. If her escort should reproach her for this she will snap at him: "What's all this nonsense? Are you jealous, you idiot? I am sick and tired of arguing with you!"

During the ordinary, first rehearsals she should not bother with arias, or with the coloraturas and cadenzas taught her by Maestro Crica. Only during the dress rehearsal should she condescend to

sing them. She should stop the orchestra again and again and have them

go back to the beginning, demanding a slower or faster tempo for her aria, depending on the abovementioned embellishments.

She should be absent altogether from many rehearsals and send her mother to excuse her; her mother will say in the customary manner: "Please understand, gentlemen; my poor little darling didn't get a full minute's sleep last night because of all the commo- tion on the street below her window. All the big carts in Bologna together couldn't have made any more noise! And the house is just full of mice, and as soon as she started to doze off these creatures would simply pounce on her like so many devils, and then towards dawn she lost her night cap and couldn't find it again, and she caught such a terrible cold that I don't think she will be able to stir out of

bed all day long." Her costume will always give her reason to complain: it is shabby,

or old-fashioned, or it has already been worn by someone else. She will keep Signor Procolo busy running from tailor to shoemaker and wigmaker, insisting on all kinds of costume alterations.

As soon as the opera is over she must sit down and write to her

friends that she received more applause than any of the other singers; that they forced her to repeat every single aria and recitative, that

they shouted encore even when she blew her nose.27 That Soandso

woman, however, about whom so much fuss had been made - why,

they hardly even listened to her, for she sang out of tune, her trills 27 It was an unwritten law that no actress could appear on the stage without carry-

ing something in her hand. Usually this meant either a handkerchief or a fan. Fairies

or sorceresses might carry a magic wand. When a cantatrice playing the part of Medea

appeared on the stage with empty hands (in 1702), this caused violent objection. Boehn, Das Biihnenkostiim in Altertum, Mittelalter und Neuzeit, Berlin, 1921, p. 349.

































































396 396 396 396 396


were no good, her voice weak, and her acting rotten. But [though she may write this to her friends] she should watch jealously over any applause that the others may receive.

When she sings during a performance she should beat time with her fan or stamp her foot instead. If hers is the leading role she must demand that her mother be given the best seat in the singers' box, and she will instruct her to bring along every night useful objects such as white silk scarves, heavy shoes [? mulette], bottles with a gargling solution, needles, artificial beauty spots or moles, rouge, a hot water bottle, gloves, powder, a pocket mirror, and the book with the embellishments.

The Virtuosa should make it an iron rule to hold out all the last syllables as long as possible, for instance, dolceeee, favellaaaa, quellaaaa, orgoglioooo, sposoooo. If she should miss the right note several times or if she should change the tempo [unintentiolially] she should say: "These damned cembali are tuned higher than ever tonight! Of course, it's nobody's fault but those fine actors' from the intermezzi who think that they alone keep the company from folding up. And have a look at these players in the orchestra - worse than any street-corner fiddler. Not once did they start an aria at the right tempo."

Just before her cue she will always take snuff, be it from her protector or from some friends or extra who will offer it to her and curtsy because of the honor. When the opera is over and she leaves the theater she will ask for scarves to protect her from the fresh air. She will instruct her mother - with good reason - to "be careful, for I'll leave it up to you to get them all back to their ownersl"

On the stage she should throw up her arms as frequently as possible and constantly change her fan back and forth from one hand to the other. She should spit whenever a rest in the aria provides an opportunity, and she should make contortions with her head, mouth, and neck. She will be most convincing in a male role if she continually takes off and puts on again her gloves, if she pastes several beauty spots on her face, and if she often forgets to put on a sword, helmet, or wig before she goes on the stage. If some other singer performs a duet with her or has to sing an aria [while she is on stage], the modern Virtuosa - as has already been mentioned of the Virtuoso- will wave greetings to her friends in the boxes and joke with the conductor, players, extras, and prompters. She also might peek out from behind her fan in a most coquettish manner, so that everyone





















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will know that she is the Signora Giandussa Pelatutti, and not the

empress Filastrocca whose part she is playing. But outside of the theater she will act that part all the more arrogantly.28

She will inevitably spread rumors that as soon as the season is over she intends to marry, that she is already engaged to a very distinguished gentleman. If anyone should ask her about her salary she will reply that it is a mere nothing but that money does not mean

anything to her as she accepted this engagement only because she wanted to be heard and appreciated. But just the same she should never refuse the aid of any protector or friend no matter what his social position, nationality, profession, or financial status might be.

The cantatrice should act as stage director for the company.29 If hers is a secondary part she must order the librettist at least to have her be the first to come on stage.

As soon as she receives her part she will carefully count both notes and words. If there should be fewer of either than in the prima donna's part she will insist that librettist and composer change this

by making both roles equally long. She will be particularly insistent

about the length of her train, the ballet, the beauty spots, trills,

embellishments, cadenzas, protectors, little owls, and other equally important paraphernalia.

She will pay occasional calls to friends in the boxes and tell

them about all her troubles: "The role they gave me this time is

absolutely impossible and unsuitable for me, and I'm in terribly bad voice tonight; somehow I don't seem to be able to open my mouth at all. Never in my entire stage career has anything like it

28 Villeneuve devotes some especially sarcastic remarks to the young, uneducated,

and arrogant virtuosa. "Between nobility and bourgeoisie there is a kind of mixed

estate . . . of the female musicians . . . As soon as a girl decides that she has been

destined to follow the career which leads to happiness and prosperity . . . she begins to study music, manages to sing something on the stage or, if she has no voice, she

trains herself to the point where she is able to execute a few steps in a ballet. She will

immediately assume the title of virtuosa . . . ; this will protect her from difficulties

with the authorities and from defamations by the public. With this title she . . . acquires the right to give free rein to her taste and her passions. By installing a cembalo in her

apartment she is in a position to receive and entertain any person whatsoever . . . and

to lead a scandalous life without causing a scandal . . . Those who have a natural

talent for singing or dancing . . . will find generous persons who will look after them

and who will assume the title of protector." Villeneuve, op.cit., p. i6of.

29 Carluccio in Goldoni's I'lnpresario delle Smirne: "I know everything about the

art of music; I choose my costume with the best taste; I correct and coach those singers who do not know all this; and if necessary, I can double as librettist and composer."

(Act 3, scene 3.)


























(Act 3, scene 3.)


























(Act 3, scene 3.)


























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(Act 3, scene 3.)

398 398 398 398 398


happened to me. And how can they expect anybody to sing and act at the same time a part as boring and stupid as this one. It's so dead that one can't do a thing with it! If the impresario or conductor don't like it why don't they sing it themselves? I am sick and tired of it! And if they won't leave me alone I'll be glad to tell them where they all can go [son Mustazziba d'fari al Bal dal Pianton]; don't think that I am afraid of their bad temper; I know well where to turn for protection!"

The modern Virtuosa should sing cadenzas that last for an hour each, and stop frequently to take a breath. She should always try to

sing the highest notes, which are beyond her range, and during every trill she must turn and twist her neck. Asked about her range by the conductor she will invariably claim that it is two or three notes wider in either direction than is actually the case.

To insure success and a large audience for the opera she should

appear every night accompanied by ten or twelve masked friends, all to be given free tickets, to say nothing of her protector Signor Procolo, along with a few sub-Procolos and her dramatic coach.

The impresario might wish to give an audition to the Virtuosa, in which case she will sing [a quiet, contemplative aria] and act and

gesticulate violently at the same time. A [dramatic] duet scene, however, she will render sitting down, and she will entrust the second part to her Mother, the protector, or her chambermaid.

She will make it a habit to attend dress rehearsals at other opera houses. During these she should start applauding the singers when

everyone else is quiet, so that no one can fail to notice her presence. Then she should turn to whoever happens to be sitting next to her and say: "Why is it that they never give such an aria with such a recitative to me, or that scene with the dagger, or the poison, or with the kneeling-down and lamenting? Just listen how that wonderful virtuosa, whom they pay 5555 Lire, manages to muffle every single effective note! But of course they would never give me such a chance. It's always the same old impossible roles, the same endless

soliloquies full of all kinds of nonsense where one never can show off what little ability one has!"

As soon as she receives her part for the next opera she should send the arias to her voice teacher, Maestro Crica, so that he can add for her the usual coloraturas, variations, and embellishments. She should do this right away and not waste any time on having the

accompaniment copied. Then Maestro Crica can write underneath

















































399 399 399 399 399


the voice part, where the accompaniment should have been copied, any embellishments he happens to think of at the moment; the more the merrier, though he does not have the faintest idea about the composer's intentions regarding the tempo of the arias, or the accompaniment by cembalo or orchestra. Thus the cantatrice will be able to sing something different at every performance.

If someone should compliment the Virtuosa she must always answer that she really is in bad voice, that she does not know how to sing, or that she is entirely out of practice.

Before leaving home [for the opera season] she should ask the impresario for half of her salary. She will need this money to pay for the trip, to buy stuffing cotton for the improvement of her figure in the necessary places, to buy trills, appoggiaturas, etc. She should bring along a parrot, an owl, a tomcat, two puppies, and one dog about to have puppies, as well as other assorted animals. During the

trip Signor Procolo will be in charge of food and drink for them. Someone might ask her for some information about another

Virtuosa, and she will say: "Well, I just know her very casually and have never had the opportunity of singing in the same production with her." But if she did appear with her she will say: "I'd rather be silent than say anything bad about a colleague. Of course, she had only a very insignificant part that time, with no more than three arias, and [she sang them so badly that] after the second performance they cut out two of them. And, to be honest, she has the appearance of a dressed-up flour bag, and her rhythm becomes shaky as soon as she has to look up to someone on the stage with her [instead of at the conductor]. But you should see how she behaves backstage, or when she is in a box with someone! And then, she is terribly jealous and becomes simply furious every time someone else receives any applause. And, of course, she isn't exactly young any more, in spite of the stories her protector and her mother want people to believe, about her being a mere child. And, of course, the way she carried on during her last engagement didn't help her reputation much either."

The prima donna should not pay the least bit of attention to the seconda donna, nor should the seconda to the terza, and so forth. If

they are on the stage together they must never listen to one another, and while one sings an aria the other should retire to the wings, accept some snuff from her protector, blow her nose, or examine herself in the mirror.





























400 400 400 400 400

11 Teatro Alla Moda 11 Teatro Alla Moda 11 Teatro Alla Moda 11 Teatro Alla Moda 11 Teatro Alla Moda

If the Virtuosa should have an especially good role but not have any success with it she will say that she'd rather be dead than again be in a scene together with this or that singer who always spoils her best lines. If, on the other hand, her part should not be an outstand- ing one, she will protest that the librettist and composer have ruined her career once and for all, [that they gave her such an insignificant part] in spite of the fact that Signor Procolo had told them how good she was and implored them and bribed them.

She will never comply with the impresario's wishes, on top of her eternal complaints about her role, her being late for rehearsals, and her leaving out many arias.

If she is the happy owner of some sonnets written in her honor she should display these conspicuously on the walls of her studio.30 Those printed on silk she should give to her mother to sew together -though the colors may clash-making tablecloths or scarves out of them. She must send her librettos, arias, sonnets, epigrams, and some little pieces of cloth from her costumes to her protector, if the latter did not come to the city with her for the season. At the beginning of an aria she will keep a close eye on the conductor or the concertmaster, hoping that one of them will give her a sign at' the precise moment she is to come in.

The modern Virtuosa will endeavor to sing her arias differently every night, though her variations may result in harsh dissonances with the bass or the violins, whether the latter double her part or have an independent accompaniment. If she should start singing in the wrong key this will be of no importance either as all modern conductors are deaf and dumb. Whenever the Virtuosa has ex- hausted her supply of variations she might try to insert embellishments even in the trills. That is about the only thing which the Virtuose of the present time have not tried yet.

When she sings duets she should never get together with her part- ner, and especially during the cadenza she should take all the time she wants, taking pride in the exhibition of long trills. She should make it clear that she does not want any arias that have a soft, dying- away kind of ending, for she just loves a flashy finale and exit, to the shouts of evviva and buon viaggio from the audience.

30 This practice seems to have been particularly widespread in Venice: Burney still

reports that at a performance he attended "the crowd and applause were prodigious. Printed sonnets, in praise of singers and dancers, were thrown from the slips, and seen

flying about in great numbers, for which the audience scrambled with much eager- ness." Dr. Burney's continental travels 1770-1772, C. H. Glover, ed., London, 1927, p. 47.

































401 401 401 401 401


She must never read the libretto, for, as already pointed out, the modern Virtuosa must never understand its meaning. When the finale is reached, with the solution of all the plot's difficulties, she will do well not to show much interest, to start laughing, etc.

In arias and recitatives of action she will do well to employ the same stock gestures every night, to move her head and fan in exactly the same way, and to blow her nose always at the same moment, displaying a beautiful handkerchief which usually -especially at a

very dramatic moment - is brought on the stage by a page. If the part of the cantatrice requires her to have some other

character put in chains while she is singing an aria addressed to him

expressing disdain or fury, she should use the preceding ritornello to chat with her victim, to giggle, and to point out to him some friends in one of the boxes. Whenever in an aria the words "cruel", "traitor", "tyrant", etc., occur she will smile at her protector who sits in one of the boxes or stands in the wings. For the words "dearest", "my own", or "my life", she will turn towards the prompter, the bear, or some extra.

She will make it her business to introduce into every aria, be it

presto, patetico, or allegro, a new kind of embellishment executed in

rapid sextuplets. This will help her to avoid the danger of showing variety in her singing, which is no longer fashionable. The higher the notes she can sing the easier it will be for her to obtain a leading role.

She will shed torrents of tears (because of professional jealousy) whenever there is applause for some other singer, for the bear, or for the earthquake. She will expect Signor Procolo to show proper enthusiasm at the end of each aria by providing the customary sonnets [in her praise].

If the Virtuosa has to play the part of a man her mother will say of her: "Really, it's true that no one else does that sort of thing as well as my little darling. I suppose it isn't for me to say, but in such

parts she has earned everlasting fame. She may be a little hunch- backed and plump, but she certainly does not show it on the stage, where she stands up straight as a spindle and looks pretty as a gem. She is so slender, and her legs are so well-constructed, like two pillars, and her walk is ever so graceful. Anyone who wants to can find out how well she did with that important part of the 'tyrant' last year at Lugo,31 where they give all those grand operas. Why, just everyone in the audience was crazy about her."

31 Lugo: an insignificant village between Bologna and Ravenna.

















































402 402 402 402 402

I1 Teatro Alla Moda 403

She should know from memory everyone else's part, better than her own, and should sing it along during the performance. She should not fail to disturb everyone else as much as possible, while they are singing, at which time she can also amuse herself with the bear or with some extra, making much noise all the time. If Signor Procolo should greet, talk with, or applaud some young girl singer she will scold him violently and say to him: "Will you stop this business right away, or shall I box your ears or hit your sad face with my fists until you have had enough, you decrepit old idiot? Don't you have your hands full enough with one of us that you should play the dandy and ladies' man, making a miserable fool of yourself? And that person over there-I know well what she ought to do, the old gossip: she'd better look after her own affairs or I might hit her over the head with her role until there's nothing left but shreds!"

(To be concluded)



(To be concluded)



(To be concluded)



(To be concluded)



(To be concluded)

IL TEATRO ALLA MODA--PART

II By BENEDETTO MARCELLO

The concluding instalment of Marcello's work, as translated and annotated by Reinhard G. Pauly. Part I appeared in

our July 1948 issue.-Editor.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR IMPRESARIOS

THE modern impresario must not know anything at all about the theater, about music, poetry, or painting.

He may give in to the clamoring of his friends and hire some stage hands, conductors, dancers, tailors, and extras, but in this he should use the utmost economy so that he can spend all the more on singers, especially prima donnas, as well as on the bear, a tiger, flashes of lightning, thunderbolts, and earthquakes.

He should choose a patron for his theater, together with whom he should receive the lady singers from out of town. These he can turn over to the patron together with their parrots, dogs, owls, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters.

He should urge the librettist to write truly stunning scenes, to be sure to employ the bear at the end of each act, to close the opera with the usual wedding scene or with the finding, at long last, of a certain person whose identity may be established through the aid of oracles, a star on his chest, a band around his ankle, or moles on his knees, tongue, and ears.31

As soon as he has received the libretto he will visit the prima donna, and though he has not read it he will ask her to listen to it. For this reading in parts the following, besides the Virtuosa, will be

31 These "recognition scenes" were extremely popular during the early settecento, in spite of the stereotyped solutions of the plots' complexities. "In these recognition scenes everyone will easily be convinced by ... certain objects which were found in the cradle of the person in question and which now, when the need to recognize him arises, are brought on the stage or else are described." Martello, op. cit., p. 135-

85

86 The Musical Quarterly enlisted: her protector, her lawyers, the prompters, the janitor, some extra from the opera house, the tailor, the copyist, the bear, the protector's valet, and some others. During this reading they will all express their opinions, finding fault with various things, and the impresario will reverently assert that all these faults will be remedied.

On the fourth day of the month he should give the libretto to the composer, advising him that the first performance will take place on the twelfth and not a day later, and that in order to speed up the composing he should not bother about any impossible-sounding passages, about parallel fifths, octaves, or unisons.

He will sign a contract with stage painters, tailors, and ballet dancers in which he obliges himself to pay them a lump sum regardless of what services they will render, for he puts all his trust in the prima donna, the intermezzi, the bear, thunderstorms, and earthquakes.

The part of the "son" should always be given to a virtuoso who is twenty years older than the "mother".

He should never leave the opera's manuscript out of sight, and he should also keep within easy reach an hour glass, a yardstick, and some measuring tape. He will need these to ascertain the opera's length, and similarly he should employ a bushel basket and a quart measuring cup for the virtuosa's trills.

Whenever someone complains to him about his or her role he will give an immediate order to the poet and to the composer to adjust the opera to the satisfaction of the complainer.

Every night the impresario will hand out free tickets to his doctor, lawyer, pharmacist, barber, carpenter, and their business partners; also to his friends with their families. Thus the theater will never look empty. For the same reason he will ask all singers, the conductor, the instrumentalists, the bear, and the extras likewise to bring along each night five or six friends who will be admitted without tickets.

He should not decide on the second opera to be given during the season until the first one has already been performed. He will quietly put up with any impertinences of the virtuosi, remembering that in their capacities as princes, kings, and emperors they have

II Teatro Alla Moda-Part II 87

great authority and dignity and could easily take revenge on him, by singing out of tune or by leaving out arias.

The cast should consist of female singers predominantly. If two of these should compete for the leading role the impresario must order the librettist to write two roles which are exactly alike with regard to the number of arias, recitatives, and verses. Even the names of both characters should have the same number of syllables.

When he pays the bass and 'cello players after the performance he should make deductions for the da capo sections of all arias, during which they had rests. With this in mind he will approach the composer and ask him to compose these da capo sections of the arias without a single bass note. He should use counterfeit coins to pay singers who had colds or who missed their cues.

He should hire the cheapest available singers-young girls who have never been on the stage before. He should consider the beauty of their bodies more important than that of their voices as the former will cause them to have a great many "protectors". As soon as he has taken over a theater he will sell the concession for boxes, orchestra seats, gallery, and the refreshment box, pay his rent on time, and wisely lay in a supply of wine, wood, coal, flour, etc., for the entire year.32"

He will pay travel expenses to virtuosos from out of town, so that he can count on their showing up, and he should promise them good quarters near the theater, free food and laundry, etc. Then, when they arrive, he will show them a bed right behind some kitchen stove-near the theater, it is true-and all the other abovementioned things. Then he will advertise their great talents all over town, so that they will find protectors who will relieve him of the burden and expense of providing for them.

To anyone who asks him about his troupe he will say that they are "one real team", not one of them a "ringer". He will rave about one of the female singers whose specialty it is to play male parts and who will create a sensation; about his excellent supply of a modern bear, the latest lightning and thunder, storms, etc.; about that girl for the buffa parts who is overflowing with grace and humor; about a singer for comical parts whom he was able to hire for practically

32 See the translator's introduction in the April 1948 issue of The Musical Quarterly, p. 230.

88 The Musical Quarterly

nothing but who, he will say, cost him a fortune and is easily the best singer in town.

The opera's first rehearsal should take place at the prima donna's home and should be repeated at that of the theater's lawyer. If any of the singers ask him for a guarantee of their salary he can answer them that he has no guarantee that they will please the public.

During those performances for which few tickets were sold the modern impresario will permit the singers to skip half of their arias, to leave out the recitatives entirely, and to be as silly on the stage as they like. He will tell the string players not to bother about wasting any rosin, the bear to take the evening off, and the extras to have a smoke with the king or queen.

In the case of an argument put up by some of the virtuosi about their pay, the impresario will demand that they reimburse him for any sour notes, bad acting, and for any colds they might have had. He should visit all the cantatrici often and remind them to be careful of the fresh air, also telling them that they have brought the entire city to their feet with their costumes, beauty spots, fans, and makeup, that soon they will receive sonnets addressed to them and presented on silver plates; that it did not matter if they sang out of tune or muffled their words as long as they did not forget to act out certain places very impressively, etc.

He should urge the composer to write noisy and gay arias, especially after the most dramatic scenes. He should think nothing of hiring a married virtuosa who is expecting, especially if the opera calls for a pregnant queen or empress.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE ORCHESTRA

It will be one of the chief duties of a violinist to act as barber, to remove corns, comb wigs, and to compose music. He will have learned the trade by playing at dances, without any music; his sense of rhythm and his bowing may be poor as long as he masters all the tricks of the fingerboard.

He should never pay attention to the conductor or concertmaster; he should only use the upper half of the bow and always play forte. He should embellish his part as he sees fit.

The concertmaster, when he has an obbligato accompaniment to an aria, should always push the tempo and never play in time with


the singer. At the end of the aria he should display a never-ending cadenza-seemingly improvised but in reality carefully worked out at home-with arpeggios and passages in double stops.

Though all violins should be in tune with each other they should never get the pitch from the cembalos or basses. Many of the above instructions apply to the viola virtuoso as well.

The player of the second cembalo should not show up until the dress rehearsal. To all others he will send the third cembalist instead. This gentleman ordinarily will read none but the bass and soprano clefs, and when he plays he should never use his thumbs. He will pay no attention to the figured bass and harmonize everything with sixth chords. His tempo need not be the same as that of the conductor, and he will provide endings in the major mode for the middle sections [usually in minor] of all arias.

The virtuoso on the 'cello should read tenor and bass clefs only. He should never look at his music [for] he does not read any too well. Nor will he pay any attention to the singer's notes or. words.

He should accompany all recitatives an octave higher than written, which will produce an especially charming effect in tenor and bass arias. Generally speaking, he should perform all kinds of embellishments in his aria accompaniments and vary these every night, though such variations may not at all harmonize with the vocal or violin part.

Players of the double bass should play sitting down and with their gloves on. They need not tune the lowest string of their instrument. They should apply rosin to the upper half of the bow only, and when the third act is half over they can put away their instruments and go home.

Oboes, flutes, trumpets, bassoons, and other wind instruments should always play out of tune and produce a perpetual crescendo.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR STAGE MACHINISTS AND PAINTERS

OF SCENERY

Stage technicians should offer to work for the impresario for a very modest fee, to insure that the impresario will give them the "concession" for the entire season. Once they have received this contract they, in turn, will hire some ordinary house-painters to do

90 The Musical Quarterly the same work for two-thirds less, and those again will still be able to clear two-thirds of their pay as profit because they do such cheap and incompetent work on the stage.

The modern stage designer or painter must avoid any familiarity with perspective, architecture, decorating, or lighting. For that reason he should see to it that all architectural sets are designed as if viewed from four or six different points at the same time, and that the horizon is assumed at a different level for each. This kind of variety will greatly please the eye of the spectator.

For the first two scenes he should provide rich cloth draperies which then can be used for all other scenes not requiring an outdoor setting. In fact, they are very nice to have around in a garden or forest scene, too, since they will protect the singers from the danger of catching cold in the open air.

Changes of scene should never be completed in one operation. The horizon should always be assumed very close by in order to cut down the amount of stage space to be lighted. The fewer lamps have to be employed, the better, and for the very dark scenes the usual kind of black plaster [? nero di Gezzo] will suffice.

Halls, prisons, small rooms, etc., need not have any doors or windows; the singers will climb on the stage directly out of their boxes anyway. Since they have memorized their parts extremely well there is no need for any lighting either [or: Since they know their places on the stage extremely well .. .?-Sapendo benissimo la Parte a

memoria].

In scenes representing the seashore, the open country, sheer precipices or caves, the stage must be kept free from cliffs, rocks, grass, or tree stumps as those might restrict the virtuoso in his acting. If in such a setting one of the characters is supposed to fall asleep, a natural-looking, moss-covered settee with a back rest should be carried on stage by some page or courtier, so that the famous singer may have a suitable place to rest his elbow. There he can sleep so much more peacefully while the others sing.

The lighting of the center of the stage is of no great importance; so much more care should be bestowed on the lighting in the wings and backstage. And though the air ought to be lighter than anything else, no one will be surprised to see a set with the props lighted up

11 Teatro Alla Moda-Part II 91

clearly while the sky above is pitch black. To light the air in addition to all the stage props would be prohibitively expensive.

If a throne should be required on the set it can be thrown together by using three steps, a chair, and a canopy, but the latter is required only if the prima donna is to sit under it. In the case of tenors or basses there is no need for it.

The modern stage technician or painter must take care to employ stronger colors on props or decorations towards the rear of the stage, the farther they are removed from the spectators' eyes. This is necessary since he must distinguish himself from the old school of stage painting which sought to use softer shades the larger the distance from the audience, thus creating the illusion of spaciousness. But the modern theatrical engineer or painter must strive to achieve the opposite effect.

The halls in royal palaces should be smaller than ordinary rooms or dungeons and the columns supporting them should be shorter than the actors. Thus more of them can be put into the set, to the great satisfaction of the impresario.

Statues need not be designed according to the laws of anatomy, but the study of these laws should be all the more diligently applied when trees or fountains for the stage are to be designed. If ships from antiquity are to be presented they should be modeled after those of the present time. Armories of the time of Xerxes, Darius, or Alex- ander should be well furnished with bombs, muskets, cannons, etc.33

The modern stage technicians and painters must outdo themselves when it comes to the set for the opera's finale. That scene will receive the greatest amount of applause since it will be judged by the crowds from the street who by this time have been let into the theater without having to pay admission. Therefore this last scene should represent a summary of all previous scenes. Seashore, groves, dungeons, halls, smaller rooms, fountains, and fleets of ships should

33 To add color and interest to the stage action many librettists would willingly introduce anachronistic devices. Thus Panceri in his Gran Macedone (1690, music by Giuseppe Boniventi) uses mines in connection with the siege of a town of antiquity. Though the time is some sixteen hundred years before the invention of gunpowder, Panceri is not inhibited by this and explains in the preface that he wanted to render the capture of the town "more delightful" on the stage, besides wishing to "conform to the modern methods of waging war".-G. Bernardi, Contributo allo studio dell'ele- mento comico nell'opera seria veneziana, in Musica d'Oggi, XVII (1935), 53.

92 The Musical Quarterly all be there, along with a bear hunt, large and beautiful tents, banquets, thunderstorms, and bolts of lightning. The latter two are especially appropriate if the locale is supposed to be the Palace of the Sun-or of the Moon, the Librettist, or Impresario. It will be most effective to have such a palace lowered down out of the sky, beautifully illuminated and full of extras who represent deities of both sexes, with instruments in their hands or various objects sym- bolizing their divinity. As soon as the opera is over it will be the duty of these gods and goddesses, for understandable reasons of thrift, to blow out the lights on the stage and in the auditorium.34

INSTRUCTIONS FOR DANCERS

Dancers should have few kind words for the singers of the intermezzi [because the dancers do not appear in them]. They must never come on the stage or make their exit at the right time.

Whenever the impresario asks for some new dance they will simply change the accompaniment to an old one. They will always employ the same steps, contratempi, and cadences, and they will execute the steps of the minuet when they are supposed to perform a dance of the slaves, peasants, a dance of ancient Greece, a furlana, or any other national or folk dance.

Any dance involving two executants only will be improvised on the spot. In children's dances care should be taken not to have them appear in groups of approximately the same age [and height]. Rather one should have them on the stage all together and arrange their exit in the following order: first the tallest ones, then the small ones, and finally the very tiny ones who should not be more than three years old and who will ordinarily execute the "dance of the warriors".

INSTRUCTIONS FOR BUFFO SINGERS [IN THE INTERMEZZI]

Buffo singers must ask for the same fee that the leading singers in the regular opera receive, especially if in their singing they use melodies [intonazione], coloratura passages, trills, and cadenzas in the style of the opera seria. They should supply their own big mous-

34A "Palace of the Sun" like the one described here was used in an opera Pastore del Anfriso, given in Venice at the Teatro S. Crisostomo in 1677. It was constructed of "revolving crystals in many colors, with lights in each one of them" and was also lowered down onto the stage.-P. Zucker, Die Theaterdekoration des Barock, Berlin, 1925, P. 12.


taches, whistles [bordoni], and drums, along with all kinds of other gadgets necessary to their profession, so that they will not burden the impresario with expenses other than their generous salary.

They should give unending praise to the singers, the music, the libretto, the extras, the stage sets, the bear, and the earthquake, but they should attribute to themselves exclusively the popularity of the theater.

They should play the same old intermezzi in every town, and they will demand that the cembalos be tuned to suit them-with good reason [because of their limited voice range].

If one of their intermezzi should turn out to be a failure they will always put the blame on the local audience, which does not understand [the dialect in] it.

They must always get faster or slower, especially in the duets, because of [their preoccupation with] the clowning. When they stray from the accompaniment they should smile and indicate that the blame lies with the orchestra.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THEATER TAILORS

Tailors will sign a contract with the impresario covering all costumes for all operas to be performed. Then they will call on the male and female stars and suggest that they supply them with costumes to suit their individual tastes.

They will point out that with the impresario's small allowance for costumes they cannot possibly furnish the desired costumes, and they will ask the singer for an additional payment. With this extra money they will make the costumes, thus pocketing the money given them by the impresario.

Costumes may be patched together, using pieces of very shabby old cloth. As long as the tailor supplies the prima donna with a nice, long train and the virtuoso with beautiful false calves he can be sure of receiving his tip.

Tailors will make the last stitches on the costume when the overture [on the night of the first performance] has already begun, for they know that if they should deliver them in time the virtuosos would only want them made over several times.


They will try to sell to tenors and basses imposing crests for their helmets, adorned with many-colored feathers.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR CHILD ACTORS (PAGES)

Child actors who are five or six years old will demand costumes in the sizes and styles for fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds.

They will insist on wearing yellow hemp wigs over their black hair.

One of them, if the plot requires it, will play the part of the "son" and will cry on the stage. The others will never stay at their proper place, which is carrying the virtuosa's train, but will instead always drag it off in the direction of the protector. They will devour all kinds of food on the stage, and during the opening night they will lose their gloves, handkerchief, hat, and wig.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR PROMPTERS

Prompters perform the additional services of selling for the impresario the concession for the theater restaurant and for the boxes. They will also have charge of the bear, the lightning, and the earthquakes.

They will arrive for rehearsal before the sun has risen, and they will sing the praise of the librettist, composer, orchestra, and impresario; also of the little butterfly, the little bunch of flowers [? mosso- lino], the little boat, and the little hat.

They will make up the rehearsal schedule and be responsible for the lowering of the chandeliers, the lighting of the oil lamps, and the punctual beginning of the opera. This latter task they accomplish by yelling to the conductor, through the little hole in the curtain and at the top of their lungs, "It's eight o'clock, maestro, EIGHT O'CLOCKI"

INSTRUCTIONS FOR COPYISTS [AND OTHERS]

Copyists will arrange with the impresario to work for a lump sum. Then they will hire someone else to do their work for six soldi a page, including paper, ink, pens, blotting sand, etc. When they copy out parts from the score they will include many wrong words, clefs, accidentals, etc., and they will leave entire pages blank.


They will sell to anyone from out of town who is interested in the latest opera's arias some old sheets with any piece of music written on it, but on which they put the names of some leading composers. All copyists will be experts at composing, singing, and playing, and they will arrange practically the entire opera as "Venetian Boat Songs".

The theater's LAWYER Will suggest to the impresario that rehearsals be held in the former's own house. He also draws up the contracts of virtuosi, orchestra players, stage workers, extras, the bear, and the librettist. He will also act as referee or judge and decide what ballets and intermezzi are to be performed. Furthermore he will arbitrate all quarrels between the singers and the impresario. He, too, will bring along numerous friends every night and let them in free, to increase the opera's reputation and the applause.

PROTECTORS of the theater will call oii the virtuose, accompanied by the impresario. They will also stand near the ticket control, wearing masks, and being extremely watchful, though they will let any of their friends slip by just the same.

They will pay daily calls on the leading cantatrici and find quarters for those from out of town. The protector's usual place during rehearsals will be at the side of the prima donna or the bear.

They will calm down those of the ladies who have had a fight with the maestro, impresario, shoemaker, or tailor.

THE ATTENDANTS at the ticket control and the soldiers with their rusty swords should be vigilant and strict in carrying out their duties -as long as the impresario is around. But as soon as he has left their motto should be: free admission to all those who tipped them earlier in the day.

They should never hand over to the manager or to some other designated person all the tickets taken up at the door. Rather they should make it a habit to keep a good number of them and to re-sell them for one-third less than the regular price-the purpose, of course, being to fill up the theater.

They will refund the admission price to their friends, even if those have been inside listening to the opera for an hour. They will also accept four admissions from one person, then refund them all

96 The Musical Quarterly when he leaves while the other three stay inside for the entire performance.

TICKET SELLERS Will weigh all gold and silver coins and say that they are below the legal weight even if they are perfectly good. When they make change they will not only subtract something for the alleged deficiency of the coins but also see to it that there will be a few soldi extra profit for themselves.

If someone who looks like a stranger asks about the price of admission they will automatically raise that price by several lire.

The rich PROTECTOR Of female singers should be very courteous, very jealous, and very obnoxious. Ordinarily he should know nothing about music but should insist on accompanying his lady to rehearsals and carry her music, hot-water-bottle, bonnet, parrot, and pet owl. He must know all her roles from memory and help her by prompting from his position behind her chair.35 He must endeavor to get into fights with the impresario and must be extremely careful never to greet any other virtuosa. He should regale librettists and composers with generous gifts so that his lady-friend will be given a decent role, and he should speak to prompter, pages, and extras about her, urging them to look after her and no one else as long as she is on the stage. He should tell everyone that his charge has appeared in sixty operas just during the last three or four years, that she is pure and angelic, not interested in money "or anything like that", that she comes from a fine family, had enjoyed the best education and was not at all like all those other singers, and wasn't it a shame for her to have to make a profession out of singing, etc.

They will seldom say a good word about a virtuosa other than their protegee, or about a theater at which she could not find employ- ment. They will always brag about her salary, exaggerating the true amount by two-thirds. They will wear coats, vests, and trousers lined with embellishments, trills, arpeggios, and cadenzas sung by the virtuosa. At the dress rehearsal they will always present to her a new dress and a watch.

35 Admission to the stage was officially denied to all outsiders, yet by bribing attendants it was frequently gained, especially by wealthy protectors. Wiel (op. cit., p. lxv) relates one instance where the Grande de Spagna, a permanent boxholder, had

arranged for the building of a private passageway from his box in the Teatro S. Samuele to the stage.


They will always remain close to the Virtuosa on the stage, ever ready with licorice, smelling salts, the new aria, a little mirror, a

complete list of gestures to be used, pears, and assorted perfumes. If the Virtuosa should only have been given the second part in an opera they will request that servants, a throne and scepter, and a train just as long as that of the prima donna be given to her.

1MOTHERS must always stay at the side of their singing daughters except when those are accompanied by their protectors, in which case Mothers will tactfully disappear.

When the young lady has an audition with an impresario the mother should move her lips as if she were singing along and should remind her daughter of every coloratura passage and trill. When asked about her daughter's age she will always make her at least ten years younger.

If some honest but poor gentleman should desire to be introduced to the family and speaks to the mother about this she will snap at him: "So my daughter doesn't have much money-no, but she is honorable just the same, and she works only because our family's misfortune makes it a necessity. But first there is another daughter whom I have to marry off; she is already engaged to a doctor. And then I have to get my husband out of jail because out of the goodness of his heart he sponsored a loan for someone which has become due now. And anyway, we don't want any young men hanging around the house, and if a couple of gentlemen do show up at times it's a different matter for they have known our Giandussina ever since she was born. One of them is my husband's lawyer and the other one the girl's godfather."

If the virtuosa is a beginner her Mother will say of her that she had sung in some thirty performances during the last two years, and if she is well along in years she will say that she only began singing three years ago, making her debut at the age of thirteen.

At rehearsals the mother's job is to set the tempo for the orchestra by waving her hand as soon as the ritornello for her daughter's aria begins. She should accompany her aria with head, eyes, and feet, and by opening and closing her mouth, and she should always shout bravo! at the end.

At home, after the rehearsal, she will teach the cantatrice how to act and indicate to her the places where trills should be inserted.

98 The Musical Quarterly Then, when all goes well during the performance and the girl comes off stage she will first kiss her and then tell her: "O my precious little darling, may the heavens bless you a thousand times! Really, your embellishments were just perfect! Everything went so well that all the other girls were sitting there biting their nails, they were so angry." But if some night the girl should forget the trill or should fail to stamp her foot the mother must yell at her: "Look at that little rascal of a daughter! You didn't sing that long trill tonight, and you forgot the most impressive part of the acting, and sure enough, you looked like a beaten dog when you made your exit [cm'e un Can scutta], and not a person in the theater lifted a hand to applaud."

She should wear a housecoat to the theater, with a sash adorned with sonnets printed on silk, which were presented to her daughter on certain occasions; or she should wear a costume with a cape which is too long and which belongs to the protector. She will stand right on the stage, carrying a bottle with a gargling solution, the embellishment book, and anything else the daughter is likely to ask for. If the latter should not be in good voice her Mother will make a big fuss and lament that at certain times the impresario should not make people sing, and that this was going to be the ruin of both of them.

While the virtuosa is singing the mother will tell the stage hands, the bear, and the extras: "To tell the truth, my daughter never played any but leading parts, such as princesses, queens, and em- presses. And she appeared in all the leading opera houses: those of Cento, Budrio, Lugo, and Medesina [all tiny places near Bologna]. She is a most generous soul and wishes all the other singers nothing but the best of luck, though they certainly don't reciprocate these feelings. God knows we have too many of that type around here who say something nasty about another singer every time they open their mouth. I might as well say it out loud that my daughter is a smart and modest girl who has learned all sorts of things. She knows not only how to sing but also how to embroider and how to make lace; she is good at dancing, fencing, and whistling. She even studied grammar, and she is so willing to adapt herself to someone else's likes that she thinks nothing of smoking a pipe to keep her protector company. And don't think that she is the kind who spreads lies and uncomplimentary stories about everyone. But alas-anyone who wants to get ahead in this world should not act the way she does.

Il Teatro Alla Moda-Part II 99

Even so, in spite of all this jealousy she will soon rise to fame, and she will have uniformed servants."

If another virtuosa should earn more applause than her daughter she should corner her together with her mother in the artists' box and insult her as follows: "Move over a little bit, Signora Giuliana; do you have to spread out like that just because your daughter had some applause? It's anybody's guess how that came about. My daughter does not have doubloons and silver boxes to give to the composer and librettist, and that's why she was given such a miserable part. But if she had also invited them to dinner, and if she had given a beautiful watch to both of them, or a scarf with matching wristbands [cuffs], all made with her own hands, then she would be better off today."-To which the other one will reply: "You and all your talk about money-I must say I am surprised at the way you carry on! What kind of nonsense is all this? I don't know a thing about doubloons or boxes, but I know that my daughter knows her part inside out, and that she does not have to bribe the librettist or the maestro. And, my dear Signora Sabbatina, do you know the reason? Because one has to be able to sustain the tone, to pronounce words distinctly, and to sing the chromatic progressions in tune, and the melodic skips which are fashionable these days; one must sing in time, and act well, and not laugh or chatter on the stage, if one wants applause. If your daughter invents a lot of silly and outlandish tricks it's small wonder she gets lost, and then, of course, the blame is put on someone else."-And the first one again: "What is all this babbling about singing in tune, and about outlandish tricks? You bore me with your silly talk, my dear. You don't really believe that my daughter needs any of your so-called advice? She knew how to sing and how to read at sight before you even thought of sending yours away for a couple of lessons! I ought to know, living in the same town with you; and it's no secret what kind of teacher yours had and who taught mine. My girl had one who charged a good Louisd'or a month, for just three lessons weekly, and that only because of the recommendation of several distinguished gentlemen, for he doesn't have to make a living giving singing lessons. He owns an estate which he bought with the money he saved as a teacher, and he is not the kind who is liable to lose his wig. He can write four pages of embellishments in an hour, and though he is old and feeble he knows his business from way back. But your daughter's teacher- he was a shrimp who could not look over the kitchen table, and no


one would give a penny for his ability, least of all ours with the Louisd'or a month. That little fellow thought he was smart and handsome because he had a diamond pin which a singer once had

brought back for him from Venice. And he always displayed a big watch chain though he had a piece of pastry dangling at the end, not having a watch to go with it. But what can you expect from a

poor devil like that, and God only knows for how many months of lessons your daughter still owes him!"

Whenever there is a knock at the door the Mother should jump up and see who it is, for she is perpetually hoping for some present to be brought, or for the protector, impresario, parrot, or monkey. If the caller turns out to be the shoemaker, tailor, or glovemaker she will accept his bill but tell him to come back some other time because the Virtuosa is away in the country, or busy with her singing teacher at the cembalo.

If the girl should have the modesty to refuse a snuff box, ring, or watch, the mother will scold her and say: "Where are your manners? Don't you know better than to offend this gentleman who is being so nice and kind to you?" Then she will grab the present from the stranger and say to him: "I am sorry, Your Highness, you must excuse this child, for this is her first time away from home. She is so

pure and innocent that she has no idea about the meaning of

presents. This is the first one ever made to her, for we never have any visitors in our house."

Because of the many large expenditures necessary to support the daughter in the style of a princess, queen, or empress with her court, also because of the expenditures for her delightful little private zoo with parrots, monkeys, owls, male and female dogs with puppies; also because of the expensive entertainments where Signor Procolo

provides so generously-because of all these it will be very helpful if the Mother arranges a bazaar for those nights during which there are no performances. There should be many prizes, such as the ones listed below, so that everyone who attends the party will win something, depart fully satisfied, and come back some other night hoping to win more.

Follows the BAZAAR

Bazaar, or Lottery with many Prizes, tickets costing four Louisd'or each.


1. A little gilt basket containing slippers, shoes, and boots, all worn by the virtuosa in many performances, covered with patches in many colors.

2. A cardboard box with floral design, filled with trills of the second, third, and fourth, with appoggiaturas, cadenzas, semitones, sour notes and [the resulting] pains; all inlaid in mother-of-pearl.

3. A fish, a drum, and a sieve [il Cepalo, il Tamburro, e la Ghir- landa di Cola; perhaps allusions to contemporary operatic produc- tions], embellished with large and small sixteenth notes.

4. Twenty-four strokes of the whole bow, played on the violin; and the same number of messe di voce and correctly pronounced words; all tied together with polite and reasonable salary demands. Out of the above one can make a petticoat for the chambermaid.

5. A complete Suit as worn by modern librettists, made of the bark of a tree, yellow as the fever, and decorated with metaphors, allegories, hyperboles; with a row of buttons made of old opera plots which have been "reconditioned", lined with verses of varying meter, together with a sword and a sheath made of bearskin.

6. A clock for the timing of the embellishments, cadenzas, and large skips. The hands of this clock have been contributed by the protectors and serve to indicate the tempo.

7. Thirty bolts of lightning, each containing five different shades of vocal color; in a portable box of natural (unfinished) wood.

8. A closet in which can be found the staves of pilgrims; also librettos, spears, writing tables, daggers, poison, prisons, sofas, bears killed in the hunt, earthquakes, large pavilions, painters' palettes, clay, brushes. The lock of this closet is made of hot air.

9. Many Contracts signed at various theaters, including the rentals for boxes; letters of credit of the impresario drawn on the Never Trust Company [Banco dell'Impossible], and lists of heroic and amorous opera plots.

to. A large Crate full of indiscretions, impertinences, prepos- terous claims, vanity, arguments, jealousies, ill will, calumnies, perse- cutions, etc. which the Virtuosi left at the house of the Virtuosa while the latter was singing in the opera.

102 The Musical Quarterly 11. A large knit Pouch containing many instances of thought-

fulness, accuracies, attentions, vigils, intent glances, good manners, demands for the leading or the second part. These things are tied together with a ribbon of musical color and represent the work of the Mothers.

12. A container made of music manuscript paper on which many ancient opera parts have been written out, all of them having a complete accompaniment, in unison throughout; with bassoons entirely out of tune; with fifths, octaves, and wrong notes; with ten thousand low E's in the basso continuo above which note complete and original operas will be composed. The Virtuosa once was given all this as a present from several modern composers.

13. A Microscope through which are to be seen the worries, inexperiences, passions, vain promises, feelings of despair, deceived hopes, unsuccessful operas, food supplies for the entire year, empty theaters and full boats, and bankruptcies of impresarios. To this is tied the flower of astuteness.

14. Assorted expressions of applause by all Virtuosi of either sex; by impresarios, tailors, pages, extras, protectors, Mothers of the female singers, made in appreciation of the Teatro alla Moda; along with their fits of rage, delirious ravings, and the exaggerations which go with it.

15. The pen with which the Teatro alla Moda was written.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR SINGING TEACHERS [AND OTHERS]

The teacher of a virtuosa will always instruct her to sing piano for thus she is more likely to succeed with her embellishments. These must not form consonances with the bass or the aria's instrumental accompaniment. He [the singing teacher] will not pay any attention to rhythm, pronunciation, or intonation, and he will see to it that no one in the audience will be able to understand a single word of what the virtuosa is singing.

They should follow the same routine with all their pupils. They will write out for each virtuosa all embellishments and variations; they will all keep a large book for that purpose. The central objec- tive of the teaching will be the production of a few unnatural- sounding tones in extremely high or low registers; thus the singer will be able to demand a correspondingly substantial increase in pay.


If the teacher should be unable to execute a trill properly himself he should not teach it to his students either but tell them it is outmoded, that nobody trills any more nowadays and that noisy applause will already have started anyway at the place where the trill belongs [i.e., the final cadence]. If the Virtuosa however, should insist, he will make her execute every trill very rapidly from the very beginning, without her preparing it with the messa di voce, always using the semitone. Then he must teach her endless cadenzas and remind her that in order to execute them properly she must take several breaths previously.

As soon as the virtuosa has received her role he will persuade her to have all the arias changed. He should also prepare weekly shipments of large quantities of embellishments, to be sent to virtuose in other towns. He should include in these shipments instructions to have the orchestra always play piano during the coloratura passages.

He should, out of pure generosity, give free lessons to poor boys and girls-but of course he will have it in writing that he is to receive a mere two-thirds of their pay from the first twenty-four performances, one-half from the next twenty-four and one-third for the rest of their lives.

A great singing teacher will never teach solfeggio himself; he will have a special assistant in charge of that.

Solfeggio instructors must use the same exercises for all singers. They may transpose them to other keys or clefs, or change the time signatures, depending on the singers' needs.

They will spend several years on the usual exercises singing from la up to re and down to la again, utilizing all possible chromatic changes which might be introduced by changing key signatures both in major and in minor. But they should never admonish their pupils to open the mouth enough and in the correct manner for every one of the vowels.

CARPENTERS and LOCKSMITHS will not start their work on the props until they have removed from the boxes all doors, chairs, locks, and bolts-since all of those supposedly are in need of repairs. On receipt of the customary tip, however, they will bring them all


back. At the first performance they must be sure to start hammering away during the overture and to keep it up throughout the first act.

The CONCESSIONAIRES of seats and boxes should keep on the good side of the prima donna's protectors and lend them money. Every night from dusk to curtain time [dalle vintiquatro alle due] they should stand in some dark corners on the public squares, rattling their keys as a signal to passers-by that they can provide them with a place.

The THEATER JANITOR should never do anything for less than

thirty soldi, and in return for the purchase of one of his candles for

every performance. Whenever a new opera is rehearsed he should demand the customary tip of fifteen lire, in return for announcing rehearsals to the singers and for bringing them their parts. He will make no charge for bossing the extras about, and he should also play the part of the bear gratis, if necessary.

Members of SOCIETY should attend rehearsals only, especially dress rehearsals. They must know nothing about music, poetry, staging, ballet dancing, extras, or bears, and their judgment of the

opera will be final in every case. They will have a favorite composer, theater, virtuoso, extra, bear, librettist, etc., and they will never have a kind word for any of the others. They will buy their tickets "on

approval" and they will leave every night after fifteen minutes [and redeem their tickets]. Thus they can see the entire opera within twelve evenings. They will go to the comedy because it costs less than the opera; and if they should go to the latter they will pay no attention, not even during a first night, except perhaps during a few bars of the prima donna's aria, or during the scene with the lightning or thunderstorm. They will court Virtuosi of either sex because thus they hope to obtain some free tickets.

The manager of the THEATER RESTAURANT should be a lover of music; he should always carry around with him some music paper, aside from having some ready on the counter. He should be the

loving protector of all great singers, both male and female. He should provide free drinks for all singers, all orchestra musicians, the impresario, the extras, the theater bear, and the librettist. To the prima donnas he should make presents in the form of the latest virtuoso cantatas, straight from Naples.


He should sell the following, out of pure kindness-and as a joke on those who are willing to pay for it:

Coffee, mixed with barley and beans,

Burned toast,

Various liquors with different names but all consisting of

nothing but cheap schnapps and a little honey,

Sherbet made with vitriol instead of lemons and hard- ened with saltpeter, and with ashes instead of salt,

Chocolate made of sugar, rotten cinnamon, almonds, acorns, and unrefined cocoa,

Never any water unless brandy is ordered with it,

Wine and other foods as usual,

All this at four times the normal price.

IL TEATRO ALLA MODA-PART I · I1 Teatro Alla Moda call Dante, Petrarch, and Ariosto obscure,...

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