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to The Journal of Musicology
1 “Il filosofo rimane nelle scuole ristretto, il poeta nelle accademie; e per lo popolo
è rimasta ne’ teatri la pura voce, d’ogni eloquenza poetica e d’ogni filosofico sentimento
spogliata.” Gian Vincenzo Gravina, “Della tragedia” (Naples, 1715) in Scritti critici e teorici,
ed. Amedeo Quondam (Bari: Laterza, 1973), 507, quoted in Renato Di Benedetto, “Poet-
iche e polemiche,” in Teorie e tecniche, immagini e fantasmi, vol. 6 of Storia dell’opera italiana,
ed. Lorenzo Bianconi and Giorgio Pestelli (Turin: EDT, 1988), 3–76: 23. All translations
are mine unless otherwise indicated.
2 Giovanni Maria Crescimbeni, La bellezza della volgar poesia (Rome: Buagni, 1700),
106. The passage on Giasone, Cicognini’s libretto set by Francesco Cavalli, is translated in
The Journal of Musicology 20/4 (2003): 461–97. ISSN 0277-9269, electronic ISSN 1533-8347s
© 2003 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Send requests for permis-
sion to reprint to: Rights and Permissions, University of California Press, Journals Division, 2000
Center Street, Suite 303, Berkeley, CA 94704-1223.
two literati shared a concern for the balance between word and voice,
sound and meaning, in the genre of opera as it had developed during
the previous century. But they could have targeted other genres as well.
In Barbara Strozzi’s cantatas for example—to cite a repertoire contem-
poraneous with the first Venetian operas—instances of dissociation be-
tween word and music occur, as Ellen Rosand notices, in “melismatic
passages which, although generally set into motion by the meaning of
a specific word, are so frequent and lengthy that an unusually large
proportion of music remains virtually without any text at all.” 3 In the
madrigals included in the Musiche a due voci by Sigismondo D’India
(1615) the “inexhaustibly florid nature of the two vocal parts,” as
Lorenzo Bianconi observes, is apparent in melismas that are “some
sixty notes long”; in one case, “taken together, the two voices perform
no less than 112 notes of melisma on the final and most important
word of the text . . . ”.4 These phenomena, by which sheer voice mo-
mentarily overrides the meaning of the text, have also been investi-
gated by scholars in later repertoires. Lawrence Kramer for example,
dealing with the 19th-century Lied, suggestively calls these moments
“overvocalizations,” defining them as “the purposeful effacement of
462 text by voice.”5 Recalling Nietzsche’s description of a “‘musical excite-
ment that comes from altogether different regions’ than does poetic
excitement,” Kramer finds overvocalization especially frequent in
Ellen Rosand, Opera in Seventeenth-Century Venice: The Creation of a Genre (Berkeley: Univ. of
California Press, 1991), 275. For the Arcadians’ views on opera, see Di Benedetto, “Poet-
iche e polemiche,” 19–25; Robert Freeman, Opera without Drama: Currents of Change in
Italian Opera, 1675–1725 (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1981), chap. 1; and Piero
Weiss, “Teorie drammatiche e ‘infranciosamento’: motivi della ‘riforma’ melodrammatica
del primo Settecento,” in Antonio Vivaldi: Teatro musicale, cultura e società, ed. Lorenzo
Bianconi and Giovanni Morelli (Florence: Olschki, 1982), 273–96: 284–93.
3 “The frequently lengthy melismas are an especially important ingredient of
Strozzi’s affective style precisely because they are textless . . . . Strozzi exploits the superior
eloquence of the naked human instrument.” Ellen Rosand, “Barbara Strozzi, virtuosissima
cantatrice: The Composer’s Voice,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 31 (1978),
241–81: 274. The piece that exemplifies these claims is “Che v’ho fatto, o luci” included
in Diporti di Euterpe, overo cantate e ariette a voce sola Op. 7 (facsimile Stuttgart: Cornetto-
Verlag) on pp. 157–63 (the excerpt quoted in the article is on pp. 157–59).
4 Lorenzo Bianconi, Music in the Seventeenth Century, trans. David Bryant (Cam-
of California Press, 2002), 63. In song, Kramer claims, there are two opposing trends:
one in which music expresses the words, according to a tradition dating back to the Re-
naissance; the other in which music tends to efface words either through “songfulness”
(as in strophic songs, in which local textual meaning may play an auxiliary role) or
through “overvocalization,” in which the effacement results from a “melisma or sustained
vocalic tones” associated with “emotional and metaphysical extremes.”
6 See Lawrence Kramer, Music and Poetry: The Nineteenth Century and After (Berkeley:
Univ. of California Press, 1984), 132. Kramer quotes from Nietzsche’s essay “On Music
and Words,” published in English as an appendix to Carl Dahlhaus, Between Romanticism
and Modernism: Four Studies in the Music of the Later Nineteenth Century (Berkeley: Univ. of
California Press), 103–19: 112.
7 Giovanni Morelli, “Scompiglio del lamento (simmetrie dell’inconstanza e in-
costanza delle simmetrie): L’Egisto di Faustini e Cavalli (1643)” in Gran Teatro La Fenice,
Opere-Concerti-Balletti, 1981–82 (Venice: Teatro La Fenice, 1982), 470–626: 615.
8 Most Venetian operas of the 1670s had 60 arias or more, compared to about a
dozen in those of the 1640s. See Rosand, Opera in Seventeenth-Century Venice, 282.
9 See Olga Termini, “The Transformation of Madrigalisms in Venetian Operas of
the later Seventeenth Century,” The Music Review 34 (1978), 5–21: 14. The example comes
from Domenico Freschi’s Olimpia vendicata (1681), act I, scene 6. But see also the similar
passages from Cavalli’s Egisto (1643) in Morelli, “Scompiglio del lamento,” 615–18.
Ý Ł Łý Ł Ł Łý ²Ł Ł Ł Ł Łý ŁŁ Ł Ł Ł
ŁŁ
32
¼
Tu dal de - stin col - pi - ta, dal de-stin col - pi - ta Pro - du -
Ý
ð Łý
Ł Łý
Ł Łý
Ł Łý Ł Łý Ł Ł ¼ Ł Ł
Ý Ł Ł Łý Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł ð Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
36
ðý
- ci a te me-de - sma al - ti splen - do - ri Di vi - gor, di for - tez - za,
Ý Ł Ł ð ð Ł Ł ð
Ł Ł Ð
Ł
Ý Łý Ł Łý Ł Ł Ł Ł ŁŁŁŁŁŁ
464
Ł Ł Ł ŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁ
40
ÝŁ ð ð Ł Ł Ł
Ł ð Ł
Ł
ÝŁŁ ŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁ ŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁ ŁŁŁŁŁŁŁ
43
ÝŁ Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
Ý Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
45
Ł Ð
bel - lez - za.
Ý Ð
ð ð
parent in the absurdly long melisma in measures 54–57 [= 42–45 in Ex. 1], placed on the
article ‘la’ rather than on the noun ‘bellezza’ ” (Wendy Heller, “Tacitus Incognito: Opera
as History in L’incoronazione di Poppea,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 52
[1999], 39–96: 67); “Seneca habitually reverts to silly madrigalisms, which destroy the
rhetorical effect of most of his statements” (Susan McClary, “Constructions of Gender in
Monteverdi’s Dramatic Music” in Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality [Min-
nesota: Univ. of Minnesota Press, 1991], 35–52: 49); “In this context Seneca’s long virtu-
osic melisma on the word ‘bellezza’ is not merely an adaptation of a madrigalesque con-
vention, but is also deeply ironic” (Iain Fenlon and Peter N. Miller, The Song of the Soul:
Understanding Poppea [London: Royal Musical Association, 1992], 64). That this melisma
puzzles not only scholars but also performers is evident in the fact that it is cut (for no
good “philological” reason) from one of the most popular performances of Poppea avail-
able on CD, conducted by John Eliot Gardiner (Archiv 447088-2); the cut is from the
words “Tu dal destin colpita” to “la bellezza,” coinciding with Ex. 1 here.
11 On the Incogniti see Giorgio Spini, Ricerca dei libertini: La teoria dell’impostura delle
religioni nel Seicento italiano (1950; rev. ed. Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1983); Paul Renucci,
“La cultura,” in Storia d’Italia, ed. Ruggero Romano and Corrado Vivanti, vol. 2/2: Dalla
caduta dell’Impero romano al secolo XVIII (Turin: Einaudi, 1974), 1085–466: 1394–98;
Rosand, “Barbara Strozzi”; Lorenzo Bianconi and Thomas Walker, “Dalla ‘Finta Pazza’
alla ‘Veremonda’: storie di Febiarmonici,” Rivista italiana di musicologia 10 (1975): 379–
454; Monica Miato, L’Accademia degli Incogniti di Giovan Francesco Loredano: Venezia, 1630–
1661 (Florence: Olschki, 1998); and Heller, “Tacitus Incognito.”
12 One of the oldest sources for the literary tradition of the nightingale singing—
Pliny’s Natural History —is discussed below. On the intellectual tradition upholding the
concept of Nothing and its wide implications, see, among the many contributions to
the subject, Brian Rotman, Signifying Nothing: The Semiotics of Zero (London: Macmillan,
1987), whose Shakespearian title also inspires that of this essay, and Sergio Givone, Storia
del nulla (Rome: Laterza, 1995). For the idea of “nothing” as manifested in Romantic in-
strumental music, see Daniel K. L. Chua, Absolute Music and the Construction of Meaning
(Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1999), 167–70 (I am grateful to Alexander Rehding
for this reference). On “nothing” in both Baroque and Romantic aesthetics, see Wl-adys-
law Tatarkiewicz, L’estetica romantica del 1600, Accademia polacca delle scienze—
Biblioteca e centro di studi a Roma—Conferenze, fasc. 34 (Wrocl-aw: Ossolineum, 1968),
12–17.
13 See Rosand, Opera in Seventeenth-Century Venice, chaps. 6 and 8.
14 See “Barbara Strozzi,” esp. 244–53 and 278–80.
15 See Mario Infelise, “Ex ignoto notus? Note sul tipografo Sarzina e l’accademia
degli Incogniti,” in Libri, tipografi, biblioteche: Ricerche storiche dedicate a Luigi Balsamo (Flor-
ence: Olschki, 1997), 207–23.
16 On this aspect see Spini, Ricerca dei libertini, 149–76.
di Venezia, in casa dell’illustrissimo sig. Gio. Francesco Loredano (Venice: Sarzina, 1634). The
full documentation of the Incogniti polemic is included in the anthology Le antiche memo-
rie del nulla, ed. Carlo Ossola (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1997). Dall’Angelo’s
Glorie del Niente is on pp. 190–202. Ossola was the first to identify the writings as belong-
ing to the same series of published exchanges, being included in two miscellaneous vol-
umes preserved at the Bibliothéque Mazarin in Paris (see “Notizia dei testi,” pp. xil–xlvii).
My interpretation of the Incogniti writings, as far as their ideological assumptions are
concerned, relies upon Ossola’s introduction to his edition, entitled “Elogio del nulla”
(pp. vii–xxxvii).
21 Il Niente. Discorso di D. Luigi Manzini. All’Illustrissimo ed eccellentissimo signore il sig.
Domenico da Molino, recitato nell’academia degl’Incogniti di Venezia, a Ca’ Contarini. Gli VIII
Maggio MDCXXXIV, sotto ‘l principato dell’illustrissimo signore Angelo Michiele, nobile viniziano
(Venice: Andrea Baba, 1634), reprinted in Le antiche memorie, 95–107.
22 “The main philosophers of Greece were chary of ‘nothing,’ denying its validity as
fact and as concept. Platonic ‘plenism’ and Aristotelean horror vacui denied existence to
nothing; Christian orthodoxy followed them in this respect, canonizing a single, divine
creatio ex nihilo at which nihil was transformed, for good, by the blast of God’s mouth
into omnis, the cosmos, the universe, the total being.” See Rosalie Colie, Paradoxia Epi-
demica: The Renaissance Tradition of Paradox (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1966), 221.
The Incogniti position, which in many respects echoes that of the Greek Sophists, could
have been easily attacked as heresy by the Church.
23 “Che niuna cosa, fuor di Dio, è più nobile né più perfetta del Niente.” Le antiche
memorie, 98.
24 As Ossola observes in the introduction to Le antiche memorie, xxi.
25 “E pure il Niente include in sé tutto ciò ch’è possibile e tutto ciò ch’è impossi-
26 “Che direste della grammatica? Infelice, che non suda intorno ad altro che a for-
mar le voci alla rozzezza de’ fanciulli. Le voci, che non sì tosto vengono esposte all’aria,
che impetuosi i turbini le disperdono e, se di esse pietose le menti non ne raccolgono al-
cuna, anche fantastica reliquia, tutte su lo stesso punto del nascere, nella vasta tomba del
Niente svanendo, si dileguano.” Le antiche memorie, 103. Manzini plays on the word “voci”
as meaning both “words” (as, for example, the entries of a dictionary) and “voices.”
27 See Giacomo Jori, Le forme della creazione: Sulla fortuna del “Mondo creato”, secoli
XVII e XVIII (Florence: Olschki, 1995), which discusses the tradition of hexamerons, po-
ems dealing with the six days of Creation, such as Torquato Tasso’s Il mondo creato, pub-
lished in 1609.
28 Le antiche memorie, 106.
29 “Polvere, ombre, sogni, che finalmente non tendono ad altro che ad insegnarci
non essere questa nostra vita che un’animata tromba che va suonando nel trionfo di
morte l’ammirande glorie del Niente.” Le antiche memorie, 120.
30 “Un’idea formalissima di tutto il Niente. Sa ella essere tale senza l’invenzioni, le
favole senza infantasmi che non sono che niente?” Le antiche memorie, 121.
are “none other than many glorious annals of the wonders of Nothing”31;
and finally, “politics,” a subject relevant to theater (musical and non):
And if we turn to politics, you see that its aim is nothing else than in-
creasing or augmenting the magnitude of the wonders of Nothing. If
politics teaches how to add to the greatness of one Prince, you’ll see in
it a great master in annihilating the greatness of another one. If poli-
tics has already added to the greatness of somebody in the past, what
else has it done through this help other than having caused the open-
ing of many Royal Theaters, in which the Nothing represents, in the
outcome of the plots, the wonders of its own Glories? In them you can
see how from the fall of the first queen of the world, the Babylonian
monarchy, arises the great throne of the Persian; from the ruins of the
Persian are built the foundations of the Greek; and from the ashes of
the Greek is ignited the flame of the greatness of the Roman one.32
31 “L’istorie, poi, che sono elle, che tanti gloriosi annali delle meraviglie del
o d’accrescere materia agli stupori del Niente. S’ella insegna ad accrescere la grandezza
di un Principe, vedetela gran maestra dell’annichilazione d’un altro. S’ella ha di già ac-
cresciuta, e che altro ha fatto, che con quant’ella di nuovo accrebbe, aver di nuovo aperti
tanti Regi Teatri, ove abbia il Niente a rappresentare nella loro Catastrofe le meraviglie
delle sue Glorie? Eccovi nella caduta della prima reina del mondo, la monarchia ba-
bilonica, sorto il gran trono della persiana; nelle ruine della persiana, gittati i fondamenti
alla greca; e nelle ceneri della greca acceso il fuoco delle grandezze della romana.” Le an-
tiche memorie, 122.
33 “La grammatica, la dialetica, la retorica, che v’insegnano elle, che ad articolar, a
dar forma, che ad abbellire quelle voci che non hanno che servir d’altro alla fine che
d’ostetrici parti della nostra immaginazione, per condurli perfetti tra l’aure a disciogliersi
in Niente?” Le antiche memorie, 121. To measure the distance between Dall’Angelo’s (and
Manzini’s) view of voice as Nothing and previous late-Renaissance views, one needs only
to consider the praise of viva voce (living voice) made by Stefano Guazzo in La civil conver-
sazione (1576): “And I want to tell you moreover that it would be wrong to believe that
one acquires doctrine better in solitude among books than in conversation among schol-
arly men. It is better to learn the doctrine by ear than by eye, and sight would not be
consumed nor the fingers sharpened in turning the pages of writers, if you could have
their continuous presence and receive by ear their living voice (la viva voce), which with
miraculous force is imprinted in the mind.” See Stefano Guazzo, La civil conversazione, ed.
Amedeo Quondam (Modena: Panini, 1993), vol. 1, 30, and the editor’s comment in vol.
2, 77–78, n187. The Incogniti’s devaluation of the arts of the Trivium contrasts with the
predominant Renaissance view, in which, for example, music gains dignity in being in a
“natural alliance” with the arts of language. As Claude Palisca has shown: “[In the Renais-
sance] with the growing recognition of the natural alliance of music with the verbal arts,
it is not surprising that both musical theorists and writers on poetics make demands on
the composer that earlier were ignored. . . . One such demand was that the composer pay
attention to the grammatical structure of the texts they were setting into music.” Claude
Palisca, Humanism in Renaissance Musical Thought (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1985),
339. The Incogniti aesthetics breaks with the Renaissance tradition, this shift also having,
as I show, significant consequences for text-music relationships.
34 As Ossola observes: “The absence of a referent, which results from embracing
the concept of Nothing as a subject of discourse, forces the word into a ‘description in
absentia,’ pushing writing out of verisimilitude and making it, as Manzini insightfully
says, more subjected to meraviglia than to cognizione. Writing thus, freed from proportions,
and thus from measures and limitations, produces disusati mostri d’eloquenza (abnormal
monsters of eloquence).” Ossola also highlights another consequence of the absence of a
referent resulting from the Incogniti’s linguistic views, that is, that writing becomes not
only freed from verisimilitude but also from imitation, that central Renaissance tenet:
“Writing can grow disproportionately as a monstrum, as a meraviglia del mostrare the inde-
scribable. . . .” Le antiche memorie, xix–xx.
35 See Agnès Morini, “G. F. Loredano: Sémiologie d’une crise,” Révue des études itali-
Teoria e poesia, vol. 3, bk. 1 of Letteratura Italiana, ed. Alberto Asor Rosa (Turin: Einaudi,
1984), 5–339: 111. These critics describe Baroque prose as featuring two contrasting
styles: laconism (or Attic style, as in Virgilio Malvezzi’s writings) and Ciceronianism (or
Asian style, e.g., in Frugoni, see n54). See also Morris W. Croll, Style, Rhetoric and Rhythm
(Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1966). To these prose styles correspond forms of po-
etry such as the short sonetto concettoso on one end of the spectrum, and, on the other, ex-
travagantly long poems, such as L’Adone of Giovanbattista Marino (1623, on which more
later) and La Venetia edificata of the Incognito Giulio Strozzi (1624). A counterbalancing
trend is represented by the classicistic poems by Gabriello Chabrera and his followers.
37 Ossola speaks of the “progressive dissolution of the referent.” Le antiche memorie,
xxiv.
38 “Writing has ceased to be the prose of the world; resemblances and signs have
dissolved their former alliance; similitudes have become deceptive and verge upon the vi-
sionary or madness; things still remain stubbornly within their ironic identity: they are no
longer anything but what they are; words wander off on their own, without content, with-
out resemblance to fill their emptiness; they are no longer the marks of things; they lie
sleeping between the pages of the books and covered in dust.” See Michel Foucault, The
Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Pantheon Books, 1971),
47–48.
39 See above n34. For a summary of the discussions on verisimilitude during the
first century of opera, see Di Benedetto, “Poetiche e polemiche,” esp. 13 and 18.
40 Later writers from the Accademia dell’Arcadia commented on this connection
between absence of verisimilitude and emphasis on voice, intrinsic to opera. Giulio Ce-
sare Becelli, in prefacing Scipione Maffei’s libretto La fida ninfa set to music by Vivaldi
(1734), wrote that the dramma per musica “instead of expressing and imitating, more of-
ten extinguishes and cancels any semblance of truth; it flatters and allures our anima-
lesque part, that is, sense alone, without any participation of reason, as the singing of
goldfinches and nightingales do” (“in cambio di esprimere, ed imitare, suol più tosto es-
tinguere, e cancellare ogni sembianza di verità, e che lusinga, e molce la parte animale,
cioè il senso solo, senza concorso della ragione, come fa il canto di un Cardello, e d’un
Usignolo”). Quoted in Gino Stefani, Musica barocca (Milan: Bompiani, 1974), vol. 1, 129.
Yet this is not so, listeners. On the contrary: there is nobody else that
can more certainly explain to us the glories of Nothing than Beauty:
she, the glorious hand that in the great painting of the universe brushes
for us the wonders of Nothing; she herself is the vague and most gra-
cious Nothing . . . , the first mother of the glories of Nothing.43
41 For Marino, see James V. Mirollo, The Poet of the Marvelous: Giambattista Marino
(New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1963), and Paolo Cherchi, “The Seicento: Poetry, Phi-
losophy and Science,” in The Cambridge History of Italian Literature. Revised Edition, ed. Peter
Brand and Lino Pertile (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1999), 301–17: 305–8.
Cherchi observes that “overall Baroque writing brought to a critical point some funda-
mental tenets of Renaissance epistemology: truth is not just the equation of man with na-
ture or the mind with things, but of the mind with the mind itself, of words with their
own signs rather than their own referent” (302).
42 For a summary of these views on “bellezza” in Renaissance Italy, see Stefano
Lorenzetti, Musica e identità nobiliare nell’Italia del Rinascimento: educazione, mentalità, im-
maginario (Florence: Olschki, 2003), 125–37.
43 “Non è pero così, uditori, anzi non v’è chi le glorie del Niente più certamente ci
spieghi della Bellezza: ella, gloriosa mano che nel gran quadro dell’universo le meraviglie
del Niente ci pennelleggia; ella stessa vago e graziosissimo Niente . . . , prima madre delle
Glorie del Niente.” Le antiche memorie, 125–26.
44 “O deadly delight, earthly joy / how it swarms at once, and at once falls! / Vain
47 Giovan Francesco Loredano, Vita del Cavalier Marino (Venice: Sarzina, 1633), also
Mondadori, 1976), 2 vols., of which the first includes the text and the second Pozzi’s
commentary.
50 “Musica e poesia son due sorelle / ristoratrici dell’afflitte genti,” Adone VII, 1, 1–2.
51 For a perceptive comment on Marino’s strategy of highlighting the sense of
hearing in canto VII, see Giovanni Morelli, “‘Udire nei poemi’: dalla simbologia alla
fisiologia dell’ascolto,” in Crisi e rinnovamenti nell’autunno del Rinascimento a Venezia, ed.
Vittore Branca and Carlo Ossola (Florence: Olschki, 1991), 407–46.
sing their “symphony” (18–31). One bird stands out in the group: the
nightingale, the “musical monster” (musico mostro), “the sounding atom”
(atomo sonante), whose performance is described as if it were that of a
virtuoso singer:
52 “Udir musico mostro, o meraviglia, / che s’ode sì, ma si discerne apena, / come
the Nightingale,” in The Sense of Marino: Literature, Fine Arts and Music of the Italian Baroque,
ed. Francesco Guardiani (New York: EGAS, 1994), 395–427.
TABLE 1
Outline of canto VII of Giovanbattista Marino, L'Adone
(Paris: Oliviero de Varennes, 1623)
Ottave Events
1–6 Music and Poetry are “sisters.” Condemnation of the lascivious as-
pects of song.
7–10 Venus and Adonis enter the Garden of Hearing, welcomed by a
guardian.
11–17 Detailed description of the ear. The guardian leads the two lovers to
visit a bird cage.
18–31 Description of the birds singing their “symphony.”
32–37 The nightingale's singing.
38–62 Mercury tells Venus and Adonis the story of the contest between the
poet and the nightingale.
63–80 Venus and Adonis enter the Garden of Music: appearance of the
allegories of Music and Poetry; various entertainments (music and
dances).
81–95 Sudden appearance of the singer “Allurement” (La Lusinga). She
478
vanishes into “nothing.”
96–end The two lovers enter the Garden of Taste.
also one of the first critics of opera (see Freeman, Opera, 2–4): “A Lacedaemon, hearing a
nightingale warble and being surprised that such a small bird had such a singing organ,
suspected that the nightingale kept some miraculous machinery in its chest. He thus de-
cided to satisfy his doubting curiosity: he conceived of picking up that innocent little bird
and plucking it; finding it an almost nothing of little skin and little bones, he smiled and
burst out: Vox tu es, praeterea nihil.” Francesco Fulvio Frugoni, Ritratti critici (Venice: Combi
& La Noù, 1669), 449.
55 For a discussion of classics sources, see Charles Segal, “The Gorgon and the
Nightingale: The Voice of Female Lament and Pindar’s Twelfth Pythian Ode,” in Embod-
ied Voices: Representing Female Vocality in Western Culture, ed. Leslie C. Dunn and Nancy A.
Jones (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1994), 17–34.
56 As Segal writes, the song of the nightingale-as-Procne moves away “from verbal
now varied by managing the breath, now made staccato by checking it,
linked together by prolonging it, or carried on by holding it back; or it
is suddenly lowered, and at times sinks into a mere murmur, loud, low,
bass, treble, with trills, with long notes, modulated when this seems
good—high , middle, low register.58
But what is most relevant to our point is that in Pliny this passage is fol-
lowed by a description of the heated contests occurring between
nightingales. The contests, he says, often finish tragically with the death
of one of the contenders, which would rather stop breathing than
singing.59
The two episodes of Adone VII discussed above (ottave 33 and 38–
62) are thus related through their common Plinian source: the joyful
nightingale singing in ottava 33 is only a prelude to the bird’s tragic
death in ottava 56. Marino absorbs and reelaborates the archetypical
narrative pattern concerning nightingales present not only in Pliny’s
description but also in Plutarch’s tale and in the myth of Procne. In
effect, in canto VII, singing appears to be a “veil” that disguises what
the Incogniti consider, as we have seen, the most inevitable among the
manifestations of Nothingness, death. Since the bird is obviously a trope
480
for the singer—through the performance Adonis learns about the sense
of hearing—Marino then, in these two episodes, is advancing a dis-
58 Pliny’s passage from the tenth book of his Naturalis Historia (XLII, 81–2) reads:
“Primum tanta vox tam parvo in corpuscolo, tam pertinax spiritus; deinde in una per-
fecta musica scientia: modulatus editur sonus et nunc continuo spiritu trahitur in
longum, nunc variatur unflexo, nunc distinguitur conciso, copulatur intorto, promittitur
revocato, infuscatur ex inopinato, interdum et secum ipse murmurat, plenus, gravis, acu-
tus, creber, extentus, ubi visum est, vibrans, summus, medius, imus.” Pliny, Natural History,
trans. Harris Rackham (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1940), vol. 3, 345. As Pozzi no-
tices, Marino’s adoption of Pliny’s source is mediated by Famiano Strada’s Prolusiones Aca-
demicae of 1617 (Marino, L’Adone, vol. 2, 363–70).
59 Other nightingales instead (Pliny continues) prefer to listen first to the best
singers and then to start imitating them; then teacher and pupil exchange parts and we
can perceive that often the teacher reproaches the pupil for his mistakes. The idea of
“contest” is a crucial aspect of nightingales’ singing according to the Latin poet, whose
text has been immensely influential in European literature. Among the many works influ-
enced by this description of the nightingale—specifically, the bird’s joyful singing—is
Giovanbattista Guarini’s Mentre vaga angioletta. Monteverdi’s celebrated setting of this
poem, included in his eighth book of madrigals (publ. 1638), features two tenors com-
peting with each other in highly virtuoso passages—an exaltation of pure voice that
might very well epitomize the subject of this essay. Monteverdi’s doubling, however, is not
strictly required by Guarini’s poem, which describes the experience of listening to one
singer only. It represents, in my view, a clear reference to Pliny’s description of the emula-
tion between the birds—a text only implied by the poet but openly suggested by the com-
poser. For Guarini’s poem as set by Monteverdi and his contemporaries see Massimo Ossi,
“A Sample Problem of Seventeenth-Century Imitatio: Claudio Monteverdi, Francesco
Turini, and Battista Guarini’s Mentre vaga Angioletta,” in Music in Renaissance Cities and
Courts: Studies in Honor of Lewis Lockwood, ed. Jesse Ann Owens and Anthony M. Cum-
mings (Warren: Harmonie Park Press, 1997), 253–69.
“The singing of a solo voice with passaggi, gorgie, and trills is very pleasant and is similar to
the singing of a nightingale, which is elegantly described by Pliny . . . . The sweetness of
singing does not consist of uttering words and make them understandable, but in the
suavity of the voice, in the variety of the sound, now low, now high, now slow, now with
diminutions” (“Il canto d’una voce sola con passaggi, gorgie, e trilli diletta assai, sembra il
canto del Rosignuolo, descritto elegantemente da Plinio . . . . La dolcezza del canto non
consiste nel proferire, e fare intendere le parole; ma nella soavità della voce, nella varietà
del suono, hor grave, hor acuto, hor tardo, hor diminuto”). In the last sentence the repe-
tition of the word “hor” (“now”) reveals the dependency on the “nunc . . . nunc . . .” in
the Plinian source. See Grazioso Uberti, Contrasto musico, opera dilettevole [Rome: Grignani,
1630], 85, as quoted by Stefani, Musica Barocca, 129. In his “sacred speech” La Musica
of 1614, Marino borrows again from Pliny in an extensive praise of human voice, para-
doxically in order to demonstrate its supremacy over animal voice (Giovanbattista
Marino, La Musica, in Dicerie sacre e La strage de gl’innocenti, ed. Giovanni Pozzi [Turin:
Einaudi, 1960], 49).
61 “Da lei [poetry] gli accenti impara e le parole, / da lei distinta a scioglier la
favella; / senza lei fora un suon senza concetto, / priva di grazia e povera d’affetto” (68,
5–8).
62 In another reference to the contemporary music world, Marino compares the
character of Allurement to the singers Adriana Basile and Virginia Andreini Ramponi—
the latter, as it happens, being the first protagonist of Monteverdi’s Arianna. Contrasting
the world of yesterday with that of today, the poet in effect juxtaposes the austere ideals
of the Florentine camerata, advocating a classicistic balance between words and music,
with the flashing reality of the divas contemporaneous with him, alluring an audience for
which pure voice mattered more than words.
and of her singing.63 Before reporting her words, Marino defines them
as “alluring and clear voices, in which death was welcomed into the air ”
(89, 7–8, italics mine).64 The poet is fully aware of the ambiguities in-
volved in dealing with the power of voice. On the one hand, he up-
holds the thesis that song is deceiving and lascivious, that it appeals to
our irrational side and thus is morally condemnable. On the other
hand, Marino describes sound and hearing as an indispensable source
of pleasure and delight. In the end, he does not solve this apparent
contradiction, but simply juxtaposes the two sides of the issue, leaving
the dialectic, so to speak, in place. The danger of voice, for example, is
a theme that indeed emerges at the beginning of the canto (1–7), be-
fore Venus and Adonis reach the Garden of Hearing. There, echoing
the century-long condemnation of female voice within Christian doc-
trine, Marino speculates on whether female voice can be morally ac-
ceptable when it is completely freed from words. This time the poet
gives a negative answer: Voice is indeed conducive to lasciviousness. Yet,
during the rest of the canto, as we have seen, the poet transparently be-
trays (and conveys) his undeniable fascination for pure voice, by high-
lighting its most sensual and physical characteristics through the evoca-
482 tion of both nightingale’s and Allurement’s singing.
The final part of the episode of Allurement shows the dangerous
side of singing, but, again, in an ambiguous way. The singer herself
warns Adonis about the transitory nature of Beauty: “Beauty,” she says
“is a flash of lightening, age a shadow, / which can not stop the in-
evitable flight [of time]” (91, 1–2).65 At this point Allurement disap-
pears, almost dematerializing under the effect of a ray of sun. Her dis-
solving into air is followed by Marino’s final reflection on the whole
episode (95): “O deadly delight, earthly joy / how it swarms at once,
and at once falls! / Vain pleasure that amuses souls, / born of vanity, van-
ishes into nothing.”66
These, we remember, are the lines that the Incognito Dall’Angelo
quotes in the section of his Glories of Nothing dealing with Beauty as “the
first mother of Nothing.” By considering the context of canto VII of
Marino’s Adone (that is, by reading the lines quoted by Dall’Angelo as
the Incogniti themselves would have read them) it emerges that Beauty
(in Dall’Angelo) coincides with Allurement (in Marino): both are in-
deed singers. For Marino, Beauty and Voice converge in the character of
63 “Lunge fuggite / o di falso piacer folli seguaci! / Non ha sfinge o sirena o più
mentite / parolette e sembianze o più sagaci!” (85, 1–4). Even Apollo stops racing his
chariot to listen to her singing (89, 5–6).
64 “E queste furon le lusinghiere e scorte voci, ov’accolta in aura era la morte.”
65 “Un lampo è la beltà, l’etate un’ombra, / né sa fermar l’irreparabil fuga.”
66 “O diletto mortal, gioia terrena, / come pullula tosto e tosto cade! / Vano piacer
23 (1969): 169–80.
68 These influences are explained by Nina Cannizzaro in “The Nile, Nothingness,
and Knowledge: The Incogniti Impresa,” in Coming About: A Festschrift for John Shearman,
ed. Lars R. Jones and Louisa C. Matthew (Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Art Museums,
2001), 325–32.
484
69 On the Renaissance revival of the ancient wisdom of Egypt, see the classic studies
by Frances Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press,
1964), and Paolo Rossi, Le sterminate antichità (Pisa: Nastri-Lischi, 1969).
70 See Pseudo Dionysius, The Cloud of Unknowing (London: Penguin, 1961).
71 See Miato, L’accademia degli Incogniti, 253–58.
72 “Il Nilo è questo? E chi tal dire il vuole, / s’ha varii Albergo, e Letto, e Figli, e
Cuna? / Quello ha i principi, over ha gl’onor la Luna, / questo ha i natali, ove ha le glo-
rie il Sole. / Turba di Cocodrilli a quello è prole, / ch’uccide l’Huom, poi l’occhio in pi-
anti imbruna; / di cigni in questo un bianco stuol s’aduna, / che l’huom cantando, im-
mortalare il suole. / Uno tra genti fosche, uno tra chiare, / quel con voce di tuon, questo
di Cetra, / sempre più altier, sempre più mite appare. / Va (più bei vanti il nostro fiume
impetra) / per sette bocche il vecchio Nilo al mare; / per mille bocche il nuovo Nilo a
l’Etra.” In Poesie de’ Signori Accademici Disinvolti di Pesaro (Pesaro, 1649), 114. The sonnet
is partially reported (without mention of its source) in Gino Benzoni, “La simbologia mu-
sicale nelle imprese accademiche,” Studi Veneziani 22 (1992), 117–36: 135. I am grateful
to Nina Cannizzaro for providing me with the complete text.
73 Most of the librettists among the Incogniti were lawyers by profession and writers
dedication, in contrast to all of Strozzi’s other publications (“Barbara Strozzi,” 249). Also,
Op. 3 was her first work published after the death of her father, Giulio, in 1652. May
Death then (i.e., mors) also qualify as a dedicatee?
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Łý Ł
167
− ð Ł Ł ð ð
š ¼
la for - tu - na si stan - cò la for - tu - na
Ý− ð ð Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
½q
171
− ð Ł Ł Ł
š Ł Ł ð Ð ð
si stan - cò. On - de ho pro -
Ý−Ł Ł Ł
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł ½q Ð
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł ð −
487
175
− Ł Ł −Łý Ł ¦Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł ð ð
š Ł Ł Ł
va - to ahi las - so co - me dal
Ý− Ð ð ð Ð
− ¦
− Ł Ł ¹ Ł Ł ¼ ¹ −Ł Ł Ł Ł ý Ł Ł ÿq]
178
[
š Ł
Ý− Ð Ð Ł ½q
Ł
from all to nothing). Strozzi singles out the word “niente” by setting it
to a descending C-major triad arpeggiated over a static bass and framed
by rests, bringing the singer to her lowest note, middle C (m. 178); in
addition, she also frames the setting of the sentence (mm. 174–79)
with two rests carrying a fermata—this last an unsettling, indeed un-
precedented, musical artifice.
But if Strozzi’s setting of the word niente may still be viewed as a
highly original “madrigalism”—i.e., a device matching verbal with musi-
cal meaning—other vocal gestures in her music (as mentioned at the
beginning of this essay) reveal a more experimental attitude, one fully
in tune with the aspect of the Incogniti aesthetics highlighted above:
the dissociation of word and music, the magnification of voice, exalting
language’s signifiers over signifieds, as if music were, if only momentar-
ily, autonomous and dependent on nothing but itself. These long melis-
mas not only were a way for Strozzi to project an image of herself as
composer and singer, but also reveal her adoption of the Incogniti phi-
losophy: if word meaning is “nothing” and voice is all that is left, then
melismas are quick “glimpses” into that evanescent but ever-present
realm which, for the academicians, did not disappear after God’s cre-
488 ation, but still surfaces in epiphenomena such as the song of nightin-
gales and that of singers. As we have seen in discussing Marino’s Adone
VII, the character of Allurement offers precisely such a glimpse into the
fascinating, but also dangerous, realm of sheer vocality. In Marino, Al-
lurement is none other than a trope for the most famous female singers
active in the early 17th century. Although not in an overtly public way,
Strozzi too was one of them, and was probably viewed with the same
ambiguity that Marino expresses for Allurement, as both a fascinating
and dangerous woman mixing voice and beauty.
The Incogniti views of the relationships among Beauty, Voice, and
Nothing offer a way of interpreting those passages in which an asyn-
chronicity between vocal gesture and word meaning makes music speak
for itself, and sheer voice predominates. Seneca’s stunningly long
melisma in Poppea I, 6 (see Ex. 1) is one of these intriguing moments.
Its relationship to the Incogniti philosophy, however, is much more spe-
cific than that of other similar instances, since it shows an effective con-
vergence of aims between composer and librettist, resulting in one of
the most compelling passages in the opera.77
77 By assuming that in Poppea both Busenello and Monteverdi are positively influ-
enced by aspects of the Marinist aesthetics of the Incogniti, I depart from two earlier
interpretations of this opera: the first, articulated by Ellen Rosand, for which librettist
and musician are viewed as somewhat diverging in their respective strategies; the second,
Nacqui alla morte e fu il natale un punto I was born to death, and my birth was
a point
che destinommi a ceneri gelate.80 which destined me to frozen ashes.
Huom forsennato, ahi qual follia Frantic man, ah what madness drives
t’induce you
a bramar statue, a sospirar colossi: in desiring statues, in longing for
colossus:
un momento a gran pena viver puossi: you can barely live for a moment:
la vita e il lampo hanno la stessa luce . . life and the lightning have the same
.. light.
489
Gl’anfiteatri, da l’età percossi, The amphitheatres, struck by age,
son polvi, in cui vil titolo riluce . . . . are dust in which the vile claims glitter
....
L’esser è un nulla et i respir son fumi.81 The being is a nothing, and the
breaths are smokes . . . .
advanced by both Francesco Degrada and Gary Tomlinson, who consider Marino’s influ-
ence on Busenello in a negative way, resulting in “decadent” stylistic choices (Tomlinson
extends this critique to Monteverdi’s music). See Ellen Rosand, “Seneca and the Interpre-
tation of L’incoronazione di Poppea,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 38 (1985):
34–71; Francesco Degrada, “Gian Francesco Busenello e il libretto della Incoronazione
di Poppea,” in Convegno Internazionale sul tema Claudio Monteverdi e il suo tempo: Relazioni e
comunicazioni, ed. Raffaello Monterosso (Verona: Valdonega, 1969), 81–102, and Gary
Tomlinson, Monteverdi and the End of the Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), esp.
chap. 9.
78 See, among the Incogniti works, Guido Casoni’s ode of 1602 Fulvia, fu la tua vita,
published in modern edition in Jannaco and Capucci, Il Seicento, 185–86. In this poem,
the word “voce” is closely associated to 22 words related to “figures of Nothing,” each be-
ginning a new line, as in a poetic catalogue. Another Incognito writer who often made
use of these “figures” is Ciro di Pers (see his Poesie, ed. Michele Rak [Turin: Einaudi,
1978]).
79 I quote from I sonetti morali ed amorosi di Gian Francesco Busenello (1598–1659), ed.
Figlio d’eternitade al’hor che piacque Time was born son of eternity at the
moment
Dell’universo al fondator creante in which the Creator wanted
farla in un punto sol madre e regnante to make it [i.e., eternity], at only one
point, both mother
e dal sempre in istante, il tempo and ruler, changing the ‘always’ into
nacque.82 an instant.
Nostra vita è un adesso; il ciel, l’inferno Our life is a ‘now’; I always see
per tradurla in un sempre io veggo heaven and hell ready to translate it
pronti; in an ‘always’;
fortuna, amor, con orgogliose fronti, fortune and love, with proud faces,
vi pretendono ogn’hor dominio in turn take domain over it . . . .
alterno . . . .
Polvere ambitiosa in vetro frale, Ambitious dust in frail glass,
atomo terreo alfin, ombra superba earthly atom, superb shadow
è l’huom, che spesso ha tomba anzi al is man, who often has a grave before
490 natale.84 his birth.
Adone also includes examples of the vocabulary of Nothing, for instance: “E ci vuol altro
che il compasso che misuri i membri al punto matematico, la bilancia che pesi gli atomi,
l’alchimia che distilli il niente, e la chimera che anatomizzi gli istanti.” Marino, Epistolario,
vol. 2: 109.
In mocking Virtue, Fortune calls her a Nothing. She claims that, just as
zero has meaning only in relation to real numbers (such as 10, 20 . . .),
Virtue (“a vacuous nothing”) has meaning only in relation to her, For-
tune (a “real number,” as she deems herself). But Busenello’s is a
highly relativistic world, one in which everybody and everything are in-
deed Nothing, and Truth depends on the interpreter, just as his fellow
Incogniti show in their works. As a consequence of this relativism, the
same quality that, in the Prologue, Fortune attributes to Virtue—being
Nothing—is also assigned in the opera to a very different character, 491
Poppaea, the opposite of Virtue. This time the “interpreter” (the at-
tributing agent) is the rejected Otho:
(Poppea, I, 1: Otho)
E pure io torno qui, qual linea al And yet I still come back, like a line to
centro 88 the center,
qual foco a sfera, like fire to its sphere,
e qual ruscello al mare. like a river to the sea.
86 I have written on this issue, but from a different perspective, in “ ‘Imitar col canto
chi parla’: Monteverdi and the Creation of a Language for Musical Theater,” Journal of
American Musicological Society 55 (2002), 383–431: 421–25.
87 The lines regarding Nothing (nulla, here lines 3 to 5) are missing from both the
surviving scores of Poppea (Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, Cod. It. IV 439
[=9963], and Naples, Biblioteca del Conservatorio S. Pietro a Majella, Rari 6.4.1). But
they are included in the libretto published in Busenello’s Hore ociose (Venice: Giuliani,
1656) as well as in all other known versions of the libretto (interestingly, the libretto pub-
lished in Naples in 1651 with the title Il Nerone has for lines 3–5 the following version: “se
da me diviso, / rimane un vacuo, un nulla, / restituto da’ numeri,” emphasizing vacuum
and nothing as separate although related entities).
88 The association among “centro,” Nothing, and God was common in 17th-century
mystic literature: “To create is to excavate the creation from nothing, and to put it into
being; thus the nothing is a deeper center of the Soul than is its essence; and God is the
center of all centers” (“creare è un cavar la Creatura dal niente, e porla nell’essere;
dunque il niente è un centro dell’Anima più profondo, che non è la stessa essenzia di lei;
e Dio è il centro di tutti i centri”). See Pietro Matteo Petrucci, I mistici enigmi disvelati
(Venice: Herz, 1685), 28, as quoted in Sabrina Stroppa, Sic arescit. Letteratura mistica nel
Seicento italiano (Florence: Olschki, 1998), 98. The “center” to which Otho is attracted in
Earth, Fire, and Water in the first passage, Air in the second: All four el-
ements are gathered by Otho to signify the “goddess of Beauties on
Earth,” crowned as such by Love at the end of the opera.90 But Beauty,
we recall, as Busenello’s fellow Incognito Dall’Angelo demonstrates in
his Glorie del Niente, is indeed “the first mother of Nothing” (all four ele-
ments are also Nothing, as we have seen). Otho’s desire towards Pop-
paea thus revolves around Nothing—it is illusory.91
The association between Beauty/Poppaea and Nothing, both in-
tended as a deceptive appearance, as vanitas, is the topos that Seneca,
the skilled rhetorician, uses in scene 6 of the same act to persuade Oc-
tavia that she should continue to pursue constancy despite her hus-
492 band’s demeaning treatment of her:
the first scene of Poppea may thus have connotations that touch on the semantic areas of
God and Nothing.
89 These lines are missing from the score preserved in Venice but are included both
in the libretto published in Busenello’s Hore ociose and in the score preserved in Naples.
90 See the 1643 Scenario on pp. 17–18 (“Dea delle bellezze in Terra”).
91 As Ellen Rosand has shown, in Poppea I, 1, Monteverdi aptly depicts Otho’s rest-
less motion around his desired love object by anchoring his melody on the tonic degree,
starting the aria at the unison and finishing it with a return to the point of departure. See
Ellen Rosand, “Monteverdi’s Mimetic Art: L’Incoronazione di Poppea,” Cambridge Opera Jour-
nal 1 (1989), 113–37: 119–20. In I, 3, Nero reassures Poppea that he cannot be without
her just as the number one cannot be divided from the zero, or, in another interpreta-
tion, as the point, representing their indissoluble union, cannot be separated (“se non si
smembra l’unità dal punto”—the music cadences on the unison at the word “punto”).
The point is another “figure of Nothing” (“Il punto, limite estremo e termine delle
grandezze, è un Quasi-Nulla . . .”; see Jacques Gaffarel, Nihil, fere Nihil, minus nihilo
[Venice: Pinelli, 1634], in Le antiche memorie, 148–65: 161).
ways seems to be struggling against a latent impulse to dissolve its language away.” Music
and Poetry, 132.
93 I borrow these terms from Morelli, “Scompiglio del lamento,” 615.
her breath; and by shifting the relationship between music and text
from one of direct imitation to one of musical representation: specifi-
cally, the representation of Beauty as viewed by Seneca and by the In-
cogniti, that is, as being a Nothing, a “zero.” Beauty’s musical represen-
tation in fact can not consist of a “one-to-one” correspondence of
mutually related elements, but must be a displacement. This process—a
dislocation of meaning—results in a gap between the signifier (the
melisma) and the signified (the word “bellezza”), a gap that opens up
an empty space—a void—filled by Voice and representing an allegory
of Nothing. Despite transcending the local meaning of the individual
words, the compound formed by the setting of “la bellezza” does repre-
sent the text, indirectly but on a larger scale, as allegories do.94
In conclusion, the melisma on “la” is required by the very meaning
of Beauty in the heterodox aesthetic of the Accademia degli Incogniti.
Seneca’s undermining of “bellezza”—both in his words and in his music
—indicts Poppea’s beauty as a mere appearance, a Nothing. It is a ges-
ture directed not only to Octavia, but also to the Incogniti audience,
who recognized the subject of Seneca’s speech—Beauty as vanitas—and
would have been able to decode Busenello and Monteverdi’s message.
494 By having Seneca sing a melisma to highlight the word “bellezza,” Mon-
teverdi portrays the philosopher as a master of rhetoric, music working
as an additional rhetorical tool that enhances and reinforces textual
meaning.95
94 For the notions of allegory and of signifier and signified in 17th-century dis-
courses, see Walter Benjamin, The Origin of German Tragic Drama (London: Verso, 1988)
and Giorgio Agamben, Stanzas. Word and Phantasm in Western Culture (Minneapolis: Univ.
of Minnesota Press, 1993). For “imitation” and “representation,” denoting, respectively,
resemblance and detachment in the relationships between language and things during
the 16th and 17th centuries, see Foucault, The Order of Things, 64; for the use of these
Foucauldian terms in Monteverdi studies, see Tomlinson, Monteverdi and the End of the Re-
naissance; Idem, Music and Renaissance Magic: Toward a Historiography of Others (Chicago:
Univ. of Chicago Press, 1993); Tim Carter, “Resemblance and Representation: Towards a
New Aesthetic in the Music of Monteverdi,” in Con che soavità: Studies in Italian Opera,
Song, and Dance, 1580–1740, ed. Iain Fenlon and Tim Carter (Oxford: Clarendon Press;
New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1995), 118–34; and Jeffrey Kurtzmann, “A Taxonomic and
Affective Analysis of Monteverdi’s ‘Hor che’l ciel e la terra’,” Music Analysis 12 (1993):
169–95.
95 My interpretation of this passage thus differs from that of Heller and McClary
(see above, n10) who both view Monteverdi’s musical treatment of Seneca as eroding his
heroic stature. For Heller (“Tacitus Incognito,” 67) Seneca’s madrigalisms are meaning-
less and inappropriate, part of a “catalogue of musical devices” which “dissuades rather
than persuades, distracting the listener from the intention of the speech as a whole and
raising suspicions not only about Seneca’s oratory but also about the validity of his philo-
sophical stance.” For McClary (“Constructions of Gender,” 49) the madrigalisms are
“silly” gestures that diminish the nobility of the character, the setting reflecting the Incog-
niti’s libertine approach. For Fenlon and Miller instead (The Song of the Soul, 64–65) the
“irony” of the passage “consists of the fact that while the concept of beauty is dramatically
illustrated through a form of direct representation, namely sudden vocal ornamentation
delivered in largely syllabic ambience, it actually comes from the mouth of Seneca who is
busily engaged attacking its significance.” It is however by precisely illustrating Beauty as
Nothing through a hyper-madrigalism—the melisma on “la”—that Seneca makes his
point in trying to convince Octavia that she should not be bothered by Poppaea’s appear-
ance; indeed his (neostoic) stance is reflected by both text and music. At the same time,
the highly artificial character of the melisma justifies Octavia’s reply to Seneca that his
are indeed only “vanità speciose, studiati artifici” (she herself uses the rhetoric of nothing
to dismiss the philosopher’s rhetoric). However, Octavia’s negative reaction to Seneca—
revealing an attitude similar to that of the Page in the same scene and that of the Soldiers
in I, 2—does not undermine Seneca’s message, neither does it diminish the philoso-
pher’s heroic stature emerging through Monteverdi’s musical characterization of him
throughout the opera, including the passage discussed here. For the composer’s treat-
ment of Seneca as a noble character, see Rosand, “Seneca and the Interpretation of
L’Incoronazione di Poppea.” The scholarly debate on the philosopher’s characterization in
Poppea is summarized and discussed in Tim Carter’s essay “Re-Reading Poppea: Some
Thoughts on Music and Meaning in Monteverdi’s Last Opera,” Journal of the Royal Musical
Association 122 (1997), 173–204 (reprinted in Idem., Monteverdi and his Contemporaries
[Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000]).
96 For Fortune as Nothing, see Busenello’s sonnet CXVII quoted above. In Poppea
I, 6, Fortune is indeed present in the lines immediately preceding those quoted above,
at the point in which Seneca invites Octavia to paradoxically thank the goddess who, with
Love, is helping her rival Poppea: “Ringratia la Fortuna / che con i colpi suoi / ti cresce
gl’ornamenti. / La cote non percossa / non può mandar faville” (“Give thanks to Fortune, /
whose blows / do but add to your graces. / An unstruck whetstone / cannot give forth
sparks”).
ÝŁ Ł −Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
Ł
−
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Łý
Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł Ł
ðý ²Ł Ð
š
for - tu - na.
ÝŁ Ł Ł Ł −Ł Ð
Ł Ð
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in Didone and Seneca in Poppea—to fully convey meaning exclusively
through pure sound.
In their works these composers—but also, as we have seen, Barbara
Strozzi—juxtaposed passages in which music mirrors verbal meaning
with others in which the mirror is provisionally reversed to reflect mu-
sic itself, voice speaking by (and of) itself. Influenced by a cultural envi-
ronment characterized by the Accademia degli Incogniti, with its un-
orthodox philosophy and Marinist aesthetics, Monteverdi and Cavalli
explored the boundaries of the vocal style of their time, finding origi-
nal ways of articulating sound-word relationships. In doing so, they
showed a profound trust in an element in which they recognized an ex-
traordinary epistemological value: pure voice.
Harvard University
ABSTRACT
Operas written in Venice in the 1640s feature surprisingly long
melismas often setting seemingly insignificant words, in opposition to
(although concurrently with) traditional madrigalisms. This magnifica-
tion of pure voice over word meaning is consistent with the aesthetics
presented by members of the Venetian Accademia degli Incogniti, known
for its pro-opera stance. In previously unexplored works the academi-
497