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Monthly Archives: January 2013

WmPrewitt

Miniature by William Prewitt

Farinelli, the great superstar castrato singer was born on this day in 1705. He was one of the  thousands of boys (maybe four thousand a year) subjected to the inhuman practice of castration, which was technically illegal in Italy, to preserve their voices. He was also one of the few who attained international fame. He was brought to England in 1733 by Handel, and became a sensation. Shortly after, still in his early 30s, he left to join the court of King Philip V of Spain, his singing having cured the monarch of his depression and did not sing in public again.

So what did he sound like? You can, if you poke around online, find a recording of Alessandro Moreschi, made in 1902. Moreschi was way past his prime, and the recording is pretty bad. He didn’t have an operatic voice and he sounds nervous and wobbly, although it is in its way impressive, even if only as a piece of history.

With the interest in HIP (historically-informed performance) there’s naturally a resurgence in the castrato repertoire. The amazing Vivica Genaux brought out a CD some years ago of Farinelli’s greatest hits. You can hear soundbites of Genaux and other singers, at Arias for Farinelli. It is very difficult virtuoso music, both  in the vocal range and the demands it makes physically upon the singer.

Composer Johann Joachim Quantz commented:

Farinelli had a penetrating, full, rich, bright and well-modulated soprano voice, with a range at that time from the A below middle C to the D two octaves above middle C. … His intonation was pure, his trill beautiful, his breath control extraordinary and his throat very agile, so that he performed the widest intervals quickly and with the greatest ease and certainty.

Charles Burney said

The first note he sung was taken with such delicacy, swelled by minute degrees to such an amazing volume, and afterwards diminished in the same manner to a mere point, that it was applauded for full five minutes. After this he set off with such brilliancy and rapidity of execution, that it was difficult for the violins of those days to keep pace with him… [he] could hold his notes for such a long time that those who heard him believed that it was impossible to do so naturally. They believed he hid a special instrument which maintained the sound of his voice whilst he took another breath.

Burney was also impressed with Farinelli’s emotional impact:

Senesino had the part of a furious tyrant, and Farinelli that of an unfortunate hero in chains; but in the course of the first air, the captive so softened the heart of the tyrant, that Senesino, forgetting his stage-character, ran to Farinelli and embraced him in his own.

In the movie Farinelli, his voice was recreated by digitally morphing that of Ewa Mallas-Godlewska (soprano) and Derek Lee Ragin (countertenor).

In London shortly after his appearance, public taste changed. Opera seria, the lofty, formal style devoted to tales of mythological and classical characters simply became too silly to be taken seriously. John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera, incorporating popular song and starring rogues and tarts, became wildly popular. Handel gave up opera–even Farinelli couldn’t save that sinking ship–and devoted himself to writing oratorios. A new generation of composers transformed operas.

The occasional castrato did appear on the London stage, such as Giovanni Battista Velluti who sang in Meyerbeer’s Il Crociato in 1825, possibly the last opera written with a castrato role. But it was the last gasp.

Here’s more on Farinelli and the castrati:

Lack of testes gave castrato superstar headaches (New Scientist)

Singing in the pain (BBC News)

A tear in each note and a sigh in each breath (Georgian London)

BBC Documentary, Castrato (Part 1. The exhibit at the Handel Museum is no longer on show) If you are squeamish skip the first minute of Part 2. In fact, skip most of Part 2.

Farinelli excerpt, aria from Rinaldo by Handel.

I’d love to time travel and hear Farinelli sing. Who would you like to see perform?

 

George_IV_1821_colorToday is a grand day in the United States of America. Inauguration Day! No matter what our political affiliations, Inauguration Day is a day we celebrate. In a way it is a celebration of our system of electing government.

In honor of Inauguration Day, I thought it would be fun to do some contrast between this day and the Coronation of George IV,  formerly the Prince Regent or informally, “Prinny.”

Time

Our inauguration ceremony is not on the actual day of inauguration. The legal oath of office took place yesterday, November 20, but the ceremonial oath of office and parade are taking place today. George III died January 29, 1820, and upon his death, the Prince Regent became king, but he was not crowned king until July 19, 1821. George wanted a little time to plan…

Competition

CoronationServiceI suspect the planners of the Inauguration want it to stack up nicely with other inaugurations, especially those of the opposing political party. George IV had a similar (if exaggerated) bent. He was determined that his coronation would outshine Napoleon’s coronation of 1804, which was a lavish affair memorialized in a painting by David. George IV’s coronation painting by A.C. Pugin showcases the grandeur of Westminster Abbey as well as the pageantry of the ceremony.

Location

Both ceremonies take place in/around famous buildings. President Obama’s inauguration will take place on the Capitol steps. George IV’s coronation took place in Westminster Abbey.

Cost

George IV’s coronation cost the equivalent of 15 million dollars, a little more than half of this amount was compelled to be paid by France, which was like thumbing his nose, I suspect. George IV’s coronation was Britain’s most expensive ever, but, shockingly, it does not compare to the cost of our inauguration. Estimates put that cost at $53 million (paid for by donations). Of course, there are costs for the inauguration that simply would not have existed in 1821. There will be a security force including 6,000 military personnel, 45 dog handlers, 7,000 police, as well as other expenses.

The Clothes

George_IV_coronationThe clothes that interest us at the inauguration are worn by the women. What will Michelle Obama wear? Jill Biden? Any of the other female dignitaries and guests? We’ll notice the men only if their suits are odd for some reason. But George IV was made of sterner stuff. He spent 24,000 pounds on a Coronation robe. It was made of crimson velvet with gold stars and ermine trim and a train that stretched 27 feet. George IV also commissioned a new crown adorned with 12,314 hired diamonds. The jewels were rented from Rundell & Bridge and were set so that light entered through the open back of the setting, like jewels are set today. The new king also acquired the Hope diamond. In addition to his own costume which included a brown wig and a black Spanish hat with ostrich feathers and a heron’s plume, George IV commissioned costumes for his participants in the Tudor style. One has to wonder what the various lords felt about such dress.

The Wives

QueenCaroline1820When our President takes the oath of office, standing next to him, looking as proud as a woman can look will be Michelle, his wife, the First Lady. All of our modern images of the inauguration ceremony include the wife. Caroline of Brunswick, the King’s wife, however, was banned from the ceremony altogether. The King had already tried and failed to get a divorce from Caroline; he was determined that she be banned from the coronation. He hired prizefighters dressed as pages to prevent her entrance into Westminster Abbey. Although she did try to gain entrance, crying, “I am the Queen of England,” she failed. She died 19 days later.

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As you had not heard from me at that time it was very good in you to write, but I shall not be so much your debtor soon. – I want to tell you that I have got my own darling Child from London;  — on Wednesday I received one Copy, sent down by Falknor, with three lines from Henry to say that he had given another to Charles & sent a 3d by the Coach to Godmersham; just the two Sets which I was least eager for the disposal of.
Jane Austen to her sister, Cassandra
January 29, 1813

pp1stJane Austen’s “own darling Child” was, of course, the published Copy of Pride & Prejudice.  This is month is the 200th anniversary of its publication and a big month for Janeites.

On  January 27, 1813 Jane Austen, at Chawton,  received her first copy of Pride & Prejudice, sent by her brother Henry from London.  Henry also sent copies to Jane’s brothers Edward Austen Knight (in Godmersham) and Charles.  Once Jane received her copy, she immediately wrote to Henry and asked him to send c0pies to her brothers Frank and James and, along with her mother, began reading it aloud to a friend without revealing the author.

On January 28, publisher Tomas Egerton’s first advertisement for Pride & Prejudice appeared in the Morning Chronicle, detailing a novel in three volumes with a price of 18s.  There were possibly 1500 copies printed; this is not clear. The copyright remained with Egerton until 1841.

Sometime in early February, an anonymous review of Pride & Prejudice appeared in The British Critic, No. 41.   No doubt, Jane Austen noted and probably recorded this review.  She was assiduous in collecting reviews of her work both public and private.

We will see a lot of events, real and virtual, celebrating this anniversary.  Of Jane Austen’s six novels, Pride & Prejudice is, without a doubt, the most beloved.   This year, Jane Austen Societies around the globe will be organizing their annual meetings around Pride & Prejudice.  Already, books have been published on the topic, festivals are being planned, and the BBC intends to recreate the Netherfield ball.  Who can resist?

Will you be celebrating or do you celebrate Pride & Prejudice every year anyway?  What are you looking forward to?  And what do you think?  Is this Jane’s best work?

One of my current projects is an as-yet-uncontracted historical romance set mostly in America in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of New Orleans. And the first thing I realized as I developed the idea was just how little I know about my own country’s early 19th century history. What I do know is patchy. I learned a good bit about the War of 1812 researching my 2012 book, An Infamous Marriage, but my focus was on the war in and around Canada. Partly because of that research, I know Tecumseh, but he died in battle before this story started. I’ve learned about Cherokee history and the Trail of Tears–my husband’s family is Oklahoma Cherokee–but that doesn’t directly touch this story, either.

So I’m now in all-out research mode. Since I’m writing a road romance, I can’t just learn New Orleans. I have to learn about everywhere my hero and heroine would pass through on their way to safety–including what transportation methods and routes actually existed back then in what was still largely frontier country. When I mentioned this to my husband, who’s far more up on the history of technology than I am, the first thing he said was, “Steamboats.”

Now, when I hear “steamboat,” I picture something like the musical Show Boat, or maybe Mark Twain or the Civil War. (Told you the history of technology is one of my weak points!) But because I trust my husband’s instincts, I immediately started looking into it…and discovered that 1815 was just at the dawn of steam travel on the Mississippi. When my story opens, the Enterprise was in New Orleans.

Enterprise

She’d come all the way downriver from Pennsylvania, bringing much-needed supplies for Andrew Jackson’s army. During the rest of the winter and early spring, she mostly shuttled between New Orleans and Natchez. Later in the year she earned fame by sailing all the way upriver (up rivers, plural) to her Pennsylvania home port. Though the journey took many months, it was a portent of the future. Before steamboats, travel upriver on the Mississippi was impractical–rivermen would float down on flatboats, barges, or canoes, then abandon their boats and walk or ride overland to their homes in Kentucky, Pennsylvania, or other points north.

Once I found out there was a steamboat–and one named Enterprise!–I had to set my hero and heroine aboard her. They’ll get off at Natchez, though, and take the Natchez Trace…which is a story for a future blog.

Have you ever stumbled across a piece of history that wasn’t what you expected it to be? And do you have any historica blind spots like mine for technology?