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The Castrati "The
most unkindest cut of all." —Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 2.
In his short reign (1585-90) as Pontiff, Pope Sixtus V (no kin to Fiftus VI) strengthened the financial policies of the Roman Catholic Church, straightened out its administration, finished St. Peter's Dome and more or less geared up the Church for the Counter-Reformation. He is also known for his no nonsense interpretation of 1 Corinthians, XIV, 34, in which Paul tells us: "Let your women keep silence in church; it is not permitted unto them to speak." The Pope, hard-liner and tone deaf, reckoned that singing was just a funny kind of speaking, anyway, so let's not let them sing, either. This led directly to the wholesale revival of the ancient and hideous practice of castration. Being a choir master in those days was frustrating. The so-called "white voice" of children was a natural in church; it was surely the same high, pure, innocent voice as that of Heaven's own puffy-cheeked little cherubs and angels. But it still had to be trained, and no sooner did you get a young boy finely tuned and able to sing well, than Nature let him have it with a jolt of testosterone, giving him pimples and otherwise priming him for years of anxiety-filled social gaming, a dubious trade-off every now and then for brief spurts of intense pleasure. More to the case in point, it also sent his voice cracking and plummeting into the octaves below and sent the choirmaster, in his own dogged imitation of Sisyphus, wearily back for another kid, never ever winding up with a well-trained strong adult soprano singer. Women, as we have noted, were out of the question. There were two ways to get post-pubescent male sopranos. The first was to train the "falsetto" voice, that bit of vocal chord contortionism which puts out that high, breaking voice associated today mainly with certain kinds of folk music, such as the Swiss yodel or American country music. "Falsetto", in Italian, is a diminutive of "false", and that is just how the public felt about it: a false little voice, a scrawny and brittle stand-in for the real thing, completely unacceptable to music-lovers. Enter a solution which made the purists happy, putting them, uh, on the cutting edge of Baroque vocal technology. It was perversely called "natural falsetto". It was, in fact, the castrato. The eunuch. Beginning in the late 1500's, young boys were routinely mutilated in this fashion to keep their voices from changing, so that they might better "make a joyful noise unto the Lord". The "white voice" of the subsequent adult male soprano
was so remarkable that with the beginnings in the early
1600's of opera and music performed outside the church,
the castrato soared to secular prominence. For
two-hundred years they were the most sought-after of
voices on European stages. They were wondrous: such was
the dynamic, abstract quality of their virtuoso soprano
and contralto voices, that they were often said to be
more instrumental than vocal. They were intensely
trained (loners and social outcasts that they were, they
had little else to do but practice) and so flexible that
they could warble along with the birdlike flights of
flutes and clarinets. Today, we might describe such
voices as "electronic". (Even their critics described
them as heavenly: "The shrill celestial whine of
eunuchs" was a favorite castratophobe jibe of the
day.) Generally, however, they were popular—so much so
that they often moved the public to hysteria. The great
Loreto Vittori (1604-1670) used to stoke the folks to
such white-hot passion with his singing that they often
threw open their garments! Once, while he was singing at
a college of Jesuits, a mob stormed the place to hear
him and sent the cardinals and nobles fleeing. (No
doubt, it was Baroque Teenager doing all this ranting
and raiment rending, returning home that evening to hear
Baroque Parent lecture on the evils of modern music: "Do
you think your mother and I went crazy like that over
Palestrina's madrigals? Now there was
music!") Because of the greater lung capacity and physical bulk of males, the castrato soprano voice was also incredibly powerful, much more so than its feminine counterpart. Napoleon had a thirty-voice castrato choir at his coronation in 1804 and they attacked the Tu es Petrus with a fortissimo that drowned out a nearby harp orchestra and three-hundred member choir of "normal" voices. This illegal but tolerated practice was widespread in Italy, and though people feigned feelings of guilt once in a while, most of the time they just looked the other way. Italian cities accused one another of being hotbeds of evil surgery, but it was Bourbon Naples of the mid-1700's—entrepreneurial even back then—which was the castrato capital of Europe. Its four conservatories and opera house also made it the opera capital of Europe. This combination produced a thriving black market in eunuchs. Hustlers would buy children or find orphans, pay for the operation and music lessons and hope to multiply their investment over the long term if the child grew up to be a big opera star. It was changing musical tastes—nineteenth-century Romanticism's dedication to real human passion—rather than moral qualms, which brought about the decline of the strange, sad figure of the castrato. By the early decades of the 1800's they were no longer in demand, although an occasional aberration would turn up, such as Wagner (in 1880!) originally insisting on a male soprano for the role of Klingsor in Parsifal. In 1903 Pope Pius X finally and officially forbade the "cultivation" of the white voice. Again, moral qualms apparently played no part; Pius' edict declared that much contemporary church music of the day was simply too modern, including such massive orchestral works as Verdi's Requiem. He wanted a return to the simplicity of the Gregorian chant. With that, the castrato faded into obscurity, even
within the confines of the Roman Catholic church. The
last castrato in the Vatican Chapel was Alessandro
Moreschi (1858-1922). There is even a recording* of him,
witness to one of the more bizarre sidelights in the
history of music. [Interestingly, there
are male sopranos who are not eunuchs. They are termed
"sopranista" and composers such as Rossini wrote parts
for them after the real castrato went out of fashion.
Their vocal range is apparently due to some hormonal
anomaly. They still perform today; a prominent such
performer is Simone Bartolini, an Italian who
specializes in the Baroque repertoire.] *"Moreschi,
The
Last
Castrato." Pearl Opal CD 9823. Pavilion Records,
Wadhurst, England. CD cover, photo, top. [There are separate entries about two famous castrati,
Farinelli and Caffarelli.] |