The Mongols Invade Barga

By the middle of the seventeenth century the noble aims of the Accademia de’ Bardi of Florence, which had set up the principles of opera based on their beliefs of how ancient Greek drama may have been declaimed, or rather, sung, had radically changed. Instead of an animated expressive recitative or semi-recitative from beginning to end (with a few concessions for dance or popular tunes as inserted, for example, in Monteverdi’s Orfeo) the rise of the da capo aria transformed opera into a showpiece of vocal dexterity and sumptuous display. Opera, in short, became a spectacle rather than a serious academic exercise

In England opera as an all-singing activity never really took off (apart from a few immortal examples, such as Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas) and developed, instead, into a sort of semi-opera or masque where a set of divertissements provides the dramatic action, linked by speaking parts, usually enacted by the nobility themselves.

France developed its own regal pageantry with the operas of the French-adopted ex-Florentine Lully who, paradoxically, developed, as an Italian, a peculiarly French style which continued well into the eighteenth century under the aegis of Rameau, until condemned by Rousseau, who extolled Italian opera, especially that of Pergolesi, in the famous artistic battle called la querelle des bouffons. The outcome of this debate opened French opera out to more international influences.

Italy continued to develop mainstream operatic tradition lasting well into the twentieth century with the works of Lucca’s greatest son, Giacomo Puccini. It was Handel who brought the Italian operatic tradition to England (together with rivals Bononcini et al) and gave the brits a taste of what they were really missing when listening to the successors of the Carolinian court masque.

We now enter the age of the great castrati – truly the greatest sacrificers for the sake of art, adored by the women (of course), admired by the men and appreciated by musicians (some really good composers were also castrati). This emasculating practice was only abolished in 1870 when Rome became part of the new kingdom of Italy.

The prodigious place to be in for operatic development was Naples, one of the richest and most opulent cities in the first half of the eighteenth century. It must have truly been bliss to be alive at that time! Alessandro Scarlatti was the genial pioneer and all the greats from Handel to Vivaldi (and even Bach) learnt much from him.

Important branches stemmed from the great Alessandro (not so much from his son, too original by half and secluded in a Spanish palace writing extraordinary sonatas for the Infanta Maria Magdalena Barbara). Among these were the Roman tradition which also spawned some of the best early oratorios – a necessity when opera could not be performed in the Lenten season.

The Neapolitan school, which possessed such seminal figures as Pergolesi, Durante, Leo, Provenzale and Vinci, has now truly been revaluated as the utter glory it is. Less so has the Florentine style been reappraised – a pity as, after all, it was that Florentine academy with Peri who, back in the late sixteenth century, formulated the first ground rules for opera.

It was, therefore, a great pleasure to attend a performance of Gasparini’s exotic opera Bajazet (dating from 1719) performed in the appropriately eighteenth century milieu of Barga’s own Teatro dei Differenti which has been staging early and not so early but still rare, operas since the Hunt family descended onto this city in the late 1960’s.

Gasparini, from Camaiore, was fully conversant with the late baroque style and this shows in the succession of contrasting arias which filled the best part of four hours in the evening. (We didn’t get home until after two!). I do not need to enter into the intricacies of the plot except to say that it provided similar material to Handel’s own Tamerlano which we’d heard in London some years previously. The plot, anyway, is meant to provide a structure for the different types of arias which became increasingly formalised at this period: the languishing lover’s aria, the imperious tones of the domination aria, the sub-plot vapidity of amorous servants and, best of all, the revenge aria which, in this case, ended two of the three acts with the most virtuosistic vocal flourishes.

What I also enjoyed about Gasparini’s evident dramatic and musical sense was his use of varied musical accompaniments. One aria was accompanied by pizzicato strings with a duet of delightful recorders and there was a magnificent da capo set piece with a pair of gloriously rasping horns (what did those horn players do for the other three hours they were there, I wonder?). There was also an extraordinarily dextrous baroque cello obbligato aria, which combination I’d never heard of before (usually it’s the violin or oboe, at least in Handel, which often provides a virtuoso duet with the singer).

There was even a trio, which is quite a rare occurrence for high baroque operas where each singer demands their own aria and where all come together only in the final chorus

Despite Bajazet’s poisoning everything ends happily ever after: the lovers get the darlings they want and the fierce Mongol chief is praised for his unexpected but generous clemency.

Of course, the greatest praise must go to the singers themselves, It’s incredible to think that only twenty years ago in Italy castrati were rare animals. Of course, today operations are no longer de rigeur but correct voice training is, and to have so many fine castrati singing the leading parts, and to compare and contrast their very different timbres, was fascinating. The female singers were also of top-drawer quality. Indeed, it was said the stellar cast had been selected out of over six hundred auditions.

This was the cast:

Bajazet – Leonardo de Lisi

Tamerlano – Filippo Mineccia

Andronico – Antonio Giovannini

Asteria – Giuseppina Bridelli

Irene – Ewa Gubanska

Clearco – Benedetta Mazzuccato

Leone – Raffaele Pe

Zaida – Giorgia Cinciripi

Without such quality of singers that night, Gasparini would not have scored so much success – that’s clear. But his music is of remarkably high quality – so much so that such greats as Handel and Vivaldi possessed his scores and took several ideas from him.

Direction was by Paola Rota who managed to successfully combine a somewhat minimalist stage set with attractive eighteenth-centurish costumes and a subtle use of giant picture frames.

 

A few facts about Francesco Gasparini: born in nearby Camaiore in 1668 he died in Rome in 1728. He met, knew and learnt from some of the greatest of his contemporaries including Corelli, Lotti, Alessandro Scarlatti and Legrenzi. He was also regarded as a good teacher. Among Francesco’s  students were Domenico Scarlatti, Quantz and Benedetto Marcello! Gasparini also wrote a very useful treatise on the use of the basso continuo which has helped to this day to develop correct authentic performance practises.

As far as Brits are concerned, Gasparini received the seal of approval from eighteenth century musicologist and music traveller Charles Burney who considered his cantatas particularly worthy of attention.

Incidentally, no overture survives from Bajazet but one was still played. I later found out talking to the doyen of Lucca musical greats, Herbert Handt, present that evening, that he had personally arranged it from another of Gasparini’s overtures, that to Amleto. (Could that possibly have been the first opera on a Shakespearian subject in Italian?)

If you missed Bajazet do not worry. Gasparini wrote another sixty-one operas and I am sure that, given the quality and presentation of music at the Teatro dei differenti, there will surely be another of his works staged in the near future.

In the meanwhile a friend, also present that memorable evening, and particularly knowledgeable about such matters, remarked to me that it is high time that the operas of another Tuscan composer, Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, should be dusted down from the archival shelves and put back on the stage, From the few excerpts that I have heard, I am convinced my friend is perfectly correct in what he is saying.  The musical past is truly another country and there are still so many fine things in it to rediscover!

PS Bajazet is being recorded by that great band of local musicians the Auser Musici conducted by the performance’s conductor Carlo Ipata.

(A snippet from that aria with those wonderfully rasping baroque horns)