Professional Documents
Culture Documents
in Eighteenth-
Century Sovereignty,
Entertainment,
Parma Reform
Margaret R. Butler
Musical Theater in
Eighteenth-Century Parma
The Violin
Edited by Robert Riggs
A complete list of titles in the Eastman Studies in Music series may be found
on the University of Rochester Press website, www.urpress.com
Margaret R. Butler
ISBN-13: 978-1-58046-901-2
ISSN: 1071-9989
Acknowledgments xi
Notes 135
Bibliography 157
Index 171
Examples
3.1a “Tendre amour,” Castor et Pollux 1754 Paris score, p. 158,
mm. 28–34 67
3.1b “Tendre amour,” in Mangot’s anthology (I-Bc, Ms. II. 260),
104v–105r, mm. 29–41 68
3.2a “Tendre amour,” Castor et Pollux 1754 Paris score, p. 161,
mm. 82–90 70
3.2b “Tendre amour,” in Mangot’s anthology (I-Bc, Ms. II. 260),
110v–112r, mm. 97–112 71
5.1 Rameau, “L’air gracieux pour Zéphire et les graces” from
Les fêtes d’Hébé; “Ballo / Tendrement” in Parma score for
Le feste d’Imeneo (A-Wn 17863), 109v–110r 114
5.2a “Respiri già contento,” aria from Armida inserted in Enea e Lavinia,
Vienna score, 69v–70r, mm. 38–50 119
5.2b Respiri già contento,” aria from Armida inserted in Enea e Lavinia,
Vienna score, 72r–73v, mm. 86–100 120
Other Abbreviations
held is urgently needed, but as long as we continue to lack a rich and nuanced
view of its most important representatives, one conditioned by a broader and
deeper context, it will continue to elude our grasp. This book’s goal is to help
fill that lacuna.
Briefly recounting the traditional narrative of mid-eighteenth-century oper-
atic reform and its related genre will help contextualize some of these issues,
and will illuminate still other problems with the generic label. In basic terms,
reform opera resulted when midcentury critics of Italian opera seria, frustrated
with the domination of solo singers and the bad behavior of inattentive and
unruly audiences, advocated a return to dramatic unity.4 Opera seria, the genre
that had long dominated theatrical stages throughout Europe, was to be
reformed through the integration of French operatic elements into the tradi-
tional dramaturgical format that privileged the solo singer. The widely traveled
man of letters and theatrical critic Francesco Algarotti (1712–64), in his Saggio
sopra l’opera in musica (1755), called for emphasis on visual spectacle and vari-
ety, and greater control on the part of the poet as a means to dethrone the solo
singer. Algarotti lobbied for the inclusion of dance, chorus, and flexible scene
structures, with scenes of dialogue blended with divertissement—components
drawn from French opera—as a path to reform. Other writers voiced similar
sentiments, although Algarotti’s Saggio enjoyed the greatest circulation inter-
nationally and was held up as a manifesto on the issues.5
Although most public theaters in Italy during this era, because of the way
they were run, could not afford to listen to the basic criticisms of opera’s
problems,6 other theaters reacted differently. The responses emanating from
Vienna resulted in reform opera’s canonic exemplars. In the hands of com-
poser Christoph Gluck, poet Ranieri de’ Calzabigi, and their collaborators in
the Habsburg Empire’s cosmopolitan capital city where Mozart later worked,
reform led to masterful works that represented a synthesis of elements. Gluck
and Calzabigi’s first two collaborations are the best known: Orfeo ed Euridice
(1762) and Alceste (1767), operas that evince simplicity and clarity in their
pared-down musical expression and highlight scene structures in which chorus
and dance intermingle freely.7 The composer and poet’s preface to the libretto
for Alceste clearly set forth the tenets of their reformist views.8
French culture held sway in a number of European cities beyond Vienna:
several in Germany—Mannheim, Munich (where Mozart’s reformist master-
piece, Idomeneo, premiered in 1781), Stuttgart, Ludwigsburg, and Berlin among
them—and northern Italy—Turin, and more importantly, Bourbon-occupied
Parma.9 Operas blending French and Italian elements emanated from courts
in all these places. Great strides have been made in revealing the musical tra-
ditions in these places and a more nuanced view of operatic reform’s varied
manifestations has been emerging for some time.10 But Parma, the center that
sponsored the deepest and most influential innovations exerted on opera seria
on Italian soil during the whole of the eighteenth century, still deserves greater
scrutiny than it has received up to now.
French influence in Parma had deep roots.11 Its mid-eighteenth-century
efflorescence begins in 1748, when Parma had been placed under Bourbon
rule as the result of the treaty that ended the War of the Austrian Succession.
(Appendix 1 provides a general chronology of events in Parma during the
period under discussion here.) After arriving in Parma the following year (9
March 1749), Philippe de Bourbon and the administrator of his royal house,
Guillaume-Léon Du Tillot, hatched an ambitious plan to transform the city
into a modern and sophisticated European capital. Their goal was to con-
struct and legitimize the Bourbon court’s image.12 To this end they imported
French cultural products of all kinds, and their efforts affected the city’s visual
art, architecture, literature, music, theater, and dance.13 These efforts began
immediately, with the 1749 engagement of composer Egidio Duni, whose
opéras-comiques form an essential component of Parma’s theatrical history.14 In
1755 Du Tillot hired a large troupe of French actors, singers, and dancers,
who gave a wide variety of French plays, operas, and ballets by Jean-Philippe
Rameau and other French composers during their three-year residency—some
two hundred works including approximately twenty-three operas and ballets.
By 1758 when court composer Tommaso Traetta arrived in Parma, the city
had become one of the two most important centers for French opera outside
Paris, together with Vienna. After the troupe departed, starting in 1759 Traetta
composed Italian operas that contained French components, works that put
the tiny duchy of Parma on the international operatic map. Perhaps no other
city in the Italian states could claim a theatrical experience as cosmopolitan or
one whose innovations touched such a broad population at midcentury. But
the plan was short-lived. In 1762 Du Tillot wrote to Algarotti: “Le projet de
nos opéras sur un nouveau plan est abandonné” (The plan for our operas on
a new format has been abandoned). The abandoned plan, the circumstances
surrounding its creation, the French and Italian entertainments that resulted
from it, and the generic transformation that these works instigated, whose
effects resonated in opera into the next century, are the subject of this book.
In the following chapters I seek to contribute to our continuously evolv-
ing view of reform opera by showing that a series of works most crucial for
our understanding of the genre’s malleability—the four innovative operas
Traetta created for Parma—have been misunderstood and, in my view, con-
sequently undervalued, in part because they have long been contextualized
largely within the Viennese milieu. This reality is understandable—perhaps
more so even for Parma than other places—since it is born of historical cir-
cumstances: Parma and Vienna shared long-standing political ties that served
to intertwine their theatrical worlds. Their sovereigns shared strong interests
in French culture, which led to engagement of French performing troupes
The originality of these operas has been suspect for two main reasons.
First, they are all based on preexisting French pieces, reflecting their models
in varying degrees—some are reworkings, while others are loosely based on
their French predecessors. And second, the first two are based on operas by
Jean-Philippe Rameau, the century’s greatest master of French music, and in
them Traetta included portions of Rameau’s music.18 But more problematic
for their membership in the reform opera category is the fact that in certain
aspects of their structure and style they perpetuate the very convention of
opera seria that led to the worst abuses in the reformers’ view: the high degree
to which they highlight the virtuoso solo singer despite their integration of
chorus, dance, and flexible scene structures drawn from French opera. The
time frame of their premieres further compounds the problem: they span the
very short period of just two years—one not nearly long enough to sustain any
kind of reform. Such realities and assessments related to them figure into the
A brief overview will help contextualize these particular factors. The Bourbon
dynasty had become linked with Spain in the early eighteenth century. In 1714
Phillip V of Spain, the country’s first Bourbon king, married Elisabetta Farnese,
his second wife. Parma came under Bourbon control in 1731, when Charles,
their oldest son, became duke. In 1734, with the aid of Spain, Charles captured
Naples from the Austrians and moved to Naples, taking with him many of the
Farnese dynasty’s possessions that had established Parma’s prominence as an
artistic and intellectual center. Charles’s achievements in Naples influenced
Parma in the envy they were to create in his younger brother, Philippe, sec-
ond son of the Spanish king. The Habsburgs annexed the duchy of Parma in
1738, and the Bourbons regained it in 1748 by the terms of the Treaty of Aix-
la-Chapelle. Philippe de Bourbon was installed in Parma as the duchy’s new
sovereign, arriving in the city in 1749 and ruling there until his death in 1766.
His wife, Marie Louise Élisabeth de Bourbon (1727–59), was King Louis
XV’s eldest daughter. Duchess Louise Élisabeth maintained her close ties with
The city that Parma’s new Bourbon sovereigns created was among midcentury
Europe’s most unusual: a small Parisian satellite within northern Italy, with
a mixed population consisting of a blend of Parmegiani and francesi. Along
with the importation of so many French cultural products came the migra-
tion of French citizens, who created a new public for opera at the Teatro
Ducale. Parma’s French residents constituted “a true French colony,” which
around 1760–61 consisted of about 4,000 in a city of between about 32,000
and 45,000.15 While Parma’s cultural environment would not have resembled
that of Europe’s large cultural centers in its degree of cosmopolitanism, the
city at midcentury nevertheless represented a diversity that at once opened up
opportunities for stylistic intermingling in its artistic products (as represented
by Traetta’s operas), while simultaneously introducing a level of tension that
played out in various ways in the city’s daily life apart from its entertainments.
The French began arriving in Parma soon after the Bourbon’s acquisition of
the duchy. The Parmesan chronicler Andrea Pugolotti, in his manuscript Diario
from 1749, reports that the French began to infiltrate any sector in which
there were funds to be managed, taking positions of control previously held
by Parmegiani.16 In government-run industries the French installed tax collec-
tors (burlandotti) to oversee production, evoking the strong reaction expressed
in the following verse, posted in public, at the four entrances of the city’s salt
manufacturing facility in July 1749.
(We love the Spanish and patriots / We hate the French and tax collectors /
And as many of them as we find in the street / By God, we will do away with
each and every one of them.)
The extremity of this reaction to the French presence in Parma probably rep-
resents a level of hostility that exemplifies more the world outside the opera
house than within it. Nevertheless, the tension it conveys gives us some idea
of the level of skepticism, or at least curiosity, that Italian members of the
Parmesan audiences must have experienced when introduced to new forms of
entertainment. Much of the commentary on Parmesan entertainment from the
local barber and chronicler Antonio Sgavetti, our main source of knowledge
for contemporary reception, confirms this view.17 What the French audience
members saw and heard must have been likewise unfamiliar in some respects,
as we shall see. The mixture of styles that Parma’s musical theater represents,
then, reflects a multicultural audience that was new to the city at midcentury,
and a need and desire on the part of its sponsors to find various ways, at differ-
ent times, to communicate with this new, strange, mixed public.
In Parma’s theatrical history, 1755 was a watershed year in which Du Tillot took
three decisive steps: he issued a public decree on theatrical behavior, seeking
to introduce a standard of decorum to the Teatro Ducale’s evidently unruly
audiences.18 He changed the Teatro Ducale’s administrative structure, shift-
ing more control toward the royal house, which now assumed the costs for
the scenery and costumes for all the Teatro Ducale’s operas, both Italian and
French, including the opere serie and buffe traditionally given during carnival
season and at other times.19 And he engaged a large troupe of French per-
formers led by the choreographer Jean-Philippe Delisle, who for just over
three years would give almost daily performances of French ballets and operas
in many genres, with luxurious stage settings and sumptuous costumes, and a
wide variety of spoken plays. These occurred at the Teatro Ducale and at the
small court theater at Colorno. The Bourbon House bore the French troupe’s
full expenses. Du Tillot instituted a complex administrative structure that facil-
itated the smooth functioning of Parma’s multifaceted theatrical life. Under
Du Tillot’s supervision the spectacular element of opera at Parma became
institutionalized and significantly enhanced.
When Du Tillot engaged Delisle’s troupe it was not the first time he had
imported French entertainments for Philippe de Bourbon. Du Tillot and
Philippe’s association was long-standing, Du Tillot having been in charge of
entertainments for the court during military exploits in the early 1740s in
Milan and Chambéry, then part of the Savoy territories in the present-day
Piedmont region of northwest Italy.20 He had overseen the construction of a
royal theater in the castle at Chambéry and imported performers and stage
materials from Lyon,21 arguably the French cultural center that exerted the
Delisle (in Rennes at the time, some one hundred kilometers north of Nantes),
the administrators at Turin’s Teatro Regio, and the Duke d’Aiguillon, one of
Philippe de Bourbon’s secretaries, who engineered the troupe’s movements
from Nantes, to Turin, and then to Parma, reveals much about the members,
their character types, and their complex travel arrangements.29 Although it is
known that Du Tillot began to restructure the troupe starting in 1756, our hazy
view of the repertory has obscured the significance of the changes that occurred
among the personnel. Seven members were dismissed, and at least ten and
perhaps eleven new members joined. By the time the troupe left Parma their
repertory had expanded significantly and their membership had undergone a
transformation of its own. In beginning to plan, Du Tillot drew up a document
that details the troupe’s composition in 1756 and changes he made for 1757.
Only some of the new arrivals are listed in this document, which evidently rep-
resents an early stage of the planning and not the sum total of the new addi-
tions; the extant material clearly shows the complex shuffling of personnel that
occurred at this stage in the troupe’s residence.30
A different payment document presents a list of new members and the
places from which they traveled in order to join the troupe.31 This item con-
firms Lyon’s importance for new talent recruited to Parma: of the ten new
additions, four of them came from Lyon, and another two traveled through
the city (coming north from Toulouse and Carcassonne) on the way to Parma.
His troupe comprised about forty members,32 and included well-known danc-
ers such as Pierre Aubry, Costanza Tinti Salamone, Giustina Campioni, and
Mimì Favier.33 Actors and actresses, some of whom also sang, included Mlle
Lavoy, Anne-Marie Margery, Mlle Mercier, and Mr. Godard (some of their
given names are unknown). These performers were members of the troupe
from the time of its arrival. The singers included Joseph Caillot, Jacques Le
Noble, Marguerite Hédoux, and Joseph Guigues. At least three of them—Le
Noble, Hédoux, and Guigues—and possibly Joseph Caillot as well, joined the
troupe in 1757 or later. Their presence coincided with a repertorial shift that
paralleled the changes in troupe membership, in which Mangot apparently
played a decisive role.
A preliminary list of the troupe’s operas and stand-alone ballets appears in
table 1.1. The performers shuttled back and forth between Parma and Colorno
presenting works that had been given at both the Opéra and some less highly-
ranked Parisian theaters as well. As the table shows, they gave a diverse array
of the era’s most popular genres: ballets, opéras-ballets, tragédies en musique,
pastorales-héroïques, ballets-héroïques, divertissements, intermèdes, and opéras-comiques
or parodies en vaudevilles by Charles Simon Favart (and occasionally the origi-
nals on which the parodies are based). Their spoken plays included tragédies
and comédies by Corneille, Racine, Molière, Voltaire, Dancourt, and many oth-
ers. They gave French versions of important Italian comic works, La servante
(continued)
Note: Dates and some titles drawn from Ferrari, “La compagnia”; additional titles and correc-
tions of dates based on my study of sources in I-PAas; identifications of certain titles based on
LaJarte, “Bibliothèque.”
Table 1.4.—(concluded)
Note: Given for the court in private performances unless otherwise indicated.
approachable. The first operas the troupe presented were small in scale, usu-
ally in a single act, lighthearted in content, and given only for the court. In
1757 public performances of two lighter works were given—a divertissement and
an acte of a ballet-héroïque—but after these no further productions of new works
in lighter genres were mounted (though some from earlier were revived).
Moreover, the 1757 works were ones that represented a higher level of status
and were by prominent composers. Operas given for the court and public soon
expanded to encompass tragédies en musique and ballets-héroïques. In 1759 two
full-length works were given at the public theater, made accessible to the pub-
lic through printed librettos presenting the text both in French and Italian, as
we shall see.
Mangot gained most of his musical and theatrical experience in Lyon, his
native city.47 The family had moved to Paris when Rameau married Jacques-
Simon’s sister, Marie-Louise. An oboist in the Grande Écurie in 1718, Mangot
was also a singer, a point deemphasized in the studies that recount his activi-
ties. He performed as a basse-taille in the Concert de Marseille in 1746. Three
years later he took over the direction of theater in Lyon, where he hastened
to reestablish a tradition of opera.48 Mangot’s Lyonnaise experience affected
opera in Parma in numerous ways.
Table 1.5 provides the operas performed in Lyon under Mangot’s direc-
tion, several of which were given in Parma. In Lyon he built on the activities
of his predecessor, François-Lupien Grenet. Mangot overlapped with Grenet
in Lyon, and had the third entrée of his Le triomphe de l’harmonie, titled Amphion,
performed later in Parma. Another work Mangot would have known from his
time in Lyon (before his tenure as opera director) was Mouret’s Le ballet des
sens (titled in the Paris printed score as Le triomphe des sens), given in Lyon in
1739; the third entrée from that work was adapted as the “Iride” act in Traetta’s
Le feste d’Imeneo of 1760. At least two operas by Rameau from Lyon’s repertory
are important for Parma’s: Hippolyte et Aricie and Les Indes galantes. While no evi-
dence documents a performance of Hippolyte in Parma, Mangot’s experience
having produced it must have influenced its adaptation as Traetta’s Ippolito ed
Aricia, especially given the inclusion of Rameau’s music in Traetta’s work.49
(The same might be true of Les fêtes d’Hébé, of which one dance turns up in
Traetta’s Le feste d’Imeneo.) The prologue and at least three of Les Indes galantes’s
four entrées were given for the court. Les Incas du Pérou was also presented for
the public, where it was creatively expanded. As shown above, during Mangot’s
two years as director of opera in Lyon he sang in eight of the operas he pro-
duced. He composed and sang one of the three leading roles in his own ballet-
héroïque, Le triomphe de Vénus, given at Lyon’s Académie Royale de Musique in
September 1749.50 His experience as a performer of numerous operatic roles
in different genres must have given him a perspective broader than that of
most ensemble conductors of the day. In 1752 he directed the orchestra at
Lyon’s Académie des Beaux Arts, a post he held until 1755. Having sung, com-
posed, and conducted a wide variety of French dramatic music, he knew the
stylistic and performance conventions of a repertory whose variety parallels
(continued)
Table 1.5.—(concluded)
1750
Armide Lully [None]
Omphale Destouches Alcide
Hippolyte et Aricie Rameau Pluton [Traetta’s Ippolito ed
Aricia, May 1759]
L’Europe galante Campra [unknown] 1758
Les fêtes de Mouret [unknown]
Thalie (entrée La
Provençale)
La chercheuse d’esprit (attr. Egidio [unknown] 1756
Duni but
doubtful)
Les fêtes grecques et Collin de [unknown]
romaines Blamont
Les fêtes vénitiennes Campra [unknown]
(entrée L’amour
saltimbanque)
Iphigénie en Tauride Desmarets and [unknown]
Campra
Notes: Roles as in librettos at F-Pn and elsewhere; other data from Léon Vallas, Un Siècle de
Musique et de Théâtre a Lyon, 1688–1789 (Lyon: P. Masson, 1932; repr. Geneva: Minkoff, 1971).
Le triomphe de l’harmonie by Grenet (1737), with whom Mangot worked in Lyon; third entrée,
Amphion, performed in Parma, 1757. Le ballet des sens (Le triomphe des sens) by Mouret (1739);
third entrée, La vue, adapted as the “Iride” act of Le feste d’Imeneo in Parma, 1760.
Table 1.6. Premieres of French operas at the Parma court, 1756 and 1757 as in
manuscript repertory list (identifications in parentheses according to works in
table 1.5)
1756 17 June: “L’opera D’Eglé” (Eglé, or Aeglé, by La Garde)
8 July: “Le Devin de village” (Le devin du village, Rousseau)
29 August: “L’opera des troqueurs” (Les troqueurs, Dauvergne)
2 September: “L’opera d’ismene” (Ismène, Francœur and Rebel)
3 October: “L’opera de ninete a la cour” (Ninette à la cour, Favart
parodie)
23 October: “L’opera de cleopatre” (likely Cléopatre, from Les fêtes grecques
et romaines, Collin de Blamont)
19 November: “L’opera des vestales” (likely Le feu from Les élémens,
Lalande and Destouches)
1757 30 May: “La servante maîtress” (La servante maîtresse, Baurans trans. and
rev. of Pergolesi La serva padrona)
2 June: “L’opera D’amphyon” (Amphion, from Le triomphe de l’harmonie,
Grenet)
10 July: “L’opera de venus, et Adonis” (Vénus et Adonis, Mondonville)
7 August: “L’opera de Vertumne et Pomone” (likely “La terre,” from Les
élémens, Lalande and Destouches)
17 August: L’acte du feu (Le feu from Les élémens, Lalande and Destouches)
25 August: “L’opera de Zaide en 3 actes” (Zaïde, reine de Grenade, Royer)
18 September: “L’opera des sauvages pour madame Isabella” (Les
sauvages from Les Indes galantes, Rameau)
the troupe performed annually—seven the first year, and six the second
(assuming “l’opera des vestales” and L’acte du feu are one and the same, Le feu
from Lalande and Detouches’s Les élémens)—demonstrates the rapid escalation
of operatic activity after Mangot’s arrival. Although most of these works are in
a single act and relatively brief, the amount of new material the performers
would have needed to learn in these two years is nevertheless impressive. The
first time a full-length work was presented was apparently a significant event,
given that it was specified as such in the repertory list: Royer’s Zaïde, reine de
Grenade, premiering as a full-length work in August 1757, is given as “L’opera
de Zaide en 3 actes.”
Mangot and Delisle maintained joint control over the French entertain-
ments, drafting contracts to performers, and likely interacting in many other
ways.59 This relationship was apparently difficult by 13 April 1758, if not ear-
lier. On that date Delisle complained bitterly in a letter addressed to Du Tillot:
according to the choreographer, Du Tillot had replaced him with an unnamed
person, one who wielded great power and authority.60 Delisle’s account tes-
tifies to this person’s intervention in rehearsals, and the strong influence he
must have exerted over production. No other member of Parma’s theatrical
personnel enjoyed this great a degree of control. Because of his court appoint-
ment, related duties, and opportunities to influence repertory, this person
could have been none other than Mangot.
form the French works took in Parma. They document a heretofore unknown
component of Parma’s operatic history and add a new layer to the works’ own
performance histories as well.
The following brief overview of the adaptations they exhibit, whose details
will be further explored below, elucidates the depth of Mangot’s involvement in
Parma’s French entertainments. Some of the alterations involve the same three
singers, who must have commanded particular attention in Parma: haute-contres
Jean-Joseph Guigues and Jacques Le Noble, and dessus (soprano) Marguerite
Hédoux. Considering the singers who performed the roles that were most
affected by the adaptations reveals their status and function within the troupe.
Guigues and Hédoux were among the new additions that Du Tillot had made
in 1757—the year of Zelindor’s public premiere. The fourth solo singer of lead
roles in the new repertory, basse-taille Joseph Caillot, might have been newly
added as well (a Caillot had been with the troupe from its inception, although
Caillot also appears in the document detailing the travels of those who joined
the troupe in 1757; he arrived from Lyon). While archival materials generally
report only singers’ last names, the librettos allow us, in some cases, to identify
these individuals with greater specificity. The elevation of Parma’s repertory,
initiated by Mangot, called for different singers, specifically haute-contres, which
were not needed in the troupe as originally configured, with its standard fare
of spoken plays and opéras-comiques.
The first public production that Mangot could have overseen is also the first
French opera for which a libretto is extant: Zélindor, roi des silphes, given on 20
November 1757. In Parma’s production of Zélindor a two-stanza aria for the
sylph king and a dance replace the original work’s final chorus. Les Incas du
Pérou, given the same year, ended with a lengthy, rewritten final scene with new
choruses, dances, arias, and a duet. No significant revisions were made to Titon
et l’Aurora; the basic shape of the work is consistent with the original. Parma’s
Castor et Pollux represented the work’s most modern version, one that post-
dated the most recent revival in Paris. The alterations include an expanded
final scene with an additional chorus and an ariette whose musical text was elab-
orated in Parma. Castor is the only French opera given in Parma with related
musical sources, as we shall see.61
Basse-taille Joseph Caillot was featured as a soloist three times in the pub-
licly given operas, singing the roles of Zulim, Pollux, and Eole in Zélindor, roi
des silphes, Castor et Pollux, and Titon et l’Aurora, respectively. He performed at
the Comédie-Italienne between 1760 and 1768.62 A “Caillot” was among the
most important members of the troupe when it was engaged in Turin, and
Delisle described him as a performer of “seconds rois, raisonneurs, [and]
peres nobles.”63 D’Aiguillon’s assessment of Caillot is more detailed: “Joue des
Confidans, des amoureux dans l’opera comique, bon musicien et ayant peu de
voix, jeune et d’une assez jolie figure.”64 Caillot’s only known appearances in
Parma are those mentioned above, however.65 If these Caillots are one and the
same, it is possible that he did not come with the troupe from Turin to Parma,
but instead left it temporarily, and was brought to Parma from Lyon along with
new members engaged in 1757. The document that details the new engage-
ments in 1757, which clarifies the arrival of a Caillot from Lyon, suggests as
much; moreover, his name is absent from the list of the 1756 troupe members.
The circumstances of Caillot’s involvement in Parma strengthen the Lyon con-
nections and speak to the high level of ability this performer must have pos-
sessed. None of the revisions made to the operas affected him significantly,
although his regular appearance testifies to his talent and high level of stature
in the troupe.
Haute-contre Joseph Guigues sang leading roles in all but one of the pub-
licly given operas: Zélindor, the sylph king himself, in Zélindor, roi des silphes,
Don Carlos in Les Incas du Pérou, Mercure in Castor et Pollux (a minor role),
and Titon in Titon et l’Aurora. In 1762 he was offered a contract in Vienna
but refused it, finding the fee to be unacceptable.66 The aria that replaced
Zélindor’s final chorus in Parma drew attention not only to the leading role
but to Guigues himself. Guigues would be showcased even more prominently
a month later, in Les Incas du Pérou, which was more heavily revised. The extra
arias and duet in the newly composed final scene of that work highlighted
the two lead singers, Guigues as the Spaniard Don Carlo (Zélindor’s sylph king
from a month earlier) and Marguerite Hédoux as Phani-Palla. Who composed
the new music required for the scene is unknown, but Mangot certainly could
have written it.67
Dessus Marguerite Hédoux performed the leading roles of Phani-Palla in Les
Incas du Pérou, L’Aurora in Titon et l’Aurora, and Télaïre in Castor et Pollux. She
received most of the new music in the revisions made to Les Incas, which signifi-
cantly highlighted her role in particular. A certain Mademoiselle Hédoux, per-
haps the same person, was active in Vienna in 1761 and in 1763/64.68 Favart
praised her voice and talent: “Nous avons une dame Eydoux [Hédoux] . . . elle
n’est ni jeune, ni jolie, j’en conviens, mais elle a la plus belle voix et beaucoup
de talent.”69 Hédoux must have been among the troupe’s most highly valued
female singers in Parma.
Mangot’s contact with singers in Lyon could have had a significant impact
on Castor et Pollux in particular. Haute-contre Jacques Le Noble had sung seven
roles in Lyon in 1749 and 1750 under Mangot’s direction, several of them lead-
ing ones, as table 1.7 demonstrates. Given Mangot’s strong familiarity with
his talents from their many Lyonnaise collaborations, it is hard to imagine Le
Noble’s Parma engagement coming about without Mangot’s intervention. Le
Noble joined the troupe in March 1758.70 His only role in Parma that can be
documented thus far is the demanding one of Castor. The revisions of Castor’s
ariette in the final scene, embedded in the final chorus, seem calculated to
show off a strong and flexible voice. Traetta’s I tindaridi, his Italian reworking
of Castor et Pollux composed soon afterward, in 1760, seems designed to capital-
ize on the success of the French original; perhaps the success was due in part to
a star performance by Le Noble.
On other points the sources obscure a clear view of Jacques Le Noble’s iden-
tity. It is possible he was also an instrumentalist at Parma, and apparently died
in the city’s hospital in spring 1763 after a long illness.71 However, a certain Le
Noble (whose given name is unknown) composed a quartet used in a Viennese
opéra-comique in 1754.72 He sang in Vienna in 1756–57, again in 1758–59, and
finally in 1763–64, when he was active in opéra-comique (he sang in Gluck’s La
Rencontre imprévue on 7 January 1764).73 This Le Noble was evidently a bass
singer.74 It is difficult to believe these Le Nobles are one and the same (espe-
cially if the evidence of Jacques’s death is to be believed). Jacques Le Noble’s
connection with Vienna, then, remains a mystery. Yet clearly his Lyonnaise
experience prepared him well to perform the demanding lead role of Castor
in Parma’s Castor et Pollux.
With Zélindor, Les Incas, Titon, and Castor, Mangot and his collaborators
presented to Parma audiences an array of French operatic genres, creatively
adjusted but not significantly changed from their original forms. The next
adaptation to come, however, Anacreonte of 1759, represented a true generic
transformation, as we shall see. Given the same year as Ippolito ed Aricia, the
work represents a vital link between Parma’s French and Italian operas.
Mangot’s Anthology
Je crois notre opera francois, plus agreable en quelques points que L’italien,
et voici surquoy je me fonde; Dans un opera Italien on nentend que du
Rectatif ou des ariettes, quelques fois un Duo comme par miracle. L’opera
francois plus court de moitiée, est varié par des duos des trios des choeurs,
des danses qui sont liées au sujet, du recitatif, quelques Especes d’ariettes en
un mot differents genres de musique; Or La varieté dun spectacle; Est un
beauté; si Je me trompe / Errare humanum est.78
(I believe our French opera is more pleasing than Italian opera in some
respects, and here is what I mean: In an Italian opera one hears nothing
but recitative or some arias, sometimes a duet as if by some miracle. French
opera is shorter by half, is varied by duets, trios, choruses, dances linked to
the subject, recitative, some varieties of arias—in a word, different kinds of
music. The great variety of its spectacle is a beauty, if I am not mistaken—“To
err is human.”)
Dans tout ces operas, il y a des morceaux de tous nos genres de musique;
c’est a dire du Serieux, du badin, du gratieux, du majestieux, du terrible, des
ariettes, & c.
(In all of our operas there are bits of all of our musical genres; that is to say,
the serious, the lighthearted, the graceful, the majestic, the terrifying, ariettes,
and so on.)
None of the troupe’s opéras-comiques appear in his list, and their omission
suggests an effort on Mangot’s part to downplay the presence of this reper-
tory to Martini; his declaration that the French operatic repertory chosen
for Parma represents “nothing but the best operas known today” suggests
as much.80 Zélindor, the first opera given for the public, is also missing; per-
haps he considered this divertissement to be too light in subject matter and
thus not worthy of mention. He also omits some of the older works, L’Europe
galante and Issé (both from 1697), Les élémens (from 1721), and Les caractères
de l’Amour (1736), presumably to convey Parma’s repertory as thoroughly
modern and up-to-date (although he does include a work from 1723, Les fêtes
grecques et romaines). He includes all the works by Rameau known to have been
given except Zoroastre, possibly because it was evidently not among the most
popular with the court, receiving only a single performance. A surprising
omission is Vénus et Adonis of 1752; this work was among the more modern
of those given, and one by a prominent composer (Mondonville); moreover,
it was quite successful in Parma with at least eleven recorded performances.
Perhaps Mangot considered it too one-dimensional for the variety he wished
to present, which was a priority as shown in the comment that follows the
list. His list is short compared to the total number from which he drew in
assembling his anthology (ten operas compared to the fourteen), and, curi-
ously, only three in his list—Castor et Pollux, Ismène, and Titon et l’Aurora—
end up appearing in the volume as finalized. Whatever the reasons for his
choices may have been, Mangot’s anthology represents the most widely rang-
ing extant musical source closest to Parma’s French operas. The volume and
its related letters provide a rare glimpse of Mangot’s musical tastes, ones that
influenced the atmosphere in which he re-created some of Rameau’s most
important works and that form heretofore unacknowledged aspects of the
context from which Traetta’s operas emerged.
In seeking to understand a city’s musical life we traditionally turn to com-
posers, and, increasingly nowadays, to performers; we still focus less often on
other musicians involved in the creative process, however, in particular those
who reinvent works in new contexts, whether because of lack of evidence or
evaluative assumptions about originality. The array of sources documenting
Mangot and Delisle’s contributions to Parma’s musical theater allows us to
throw open a window on the French operas and ballets given there and the sty-
listic intermingling they portend—a window whose closure has long hindered
our understanding about eighteenth-century operatic reform. In so doing we
may begin to recover the lost world of Parma’s long tradition of adaptation,
in which Traetta’s experimental operas represent one color among many in a
broad palette of innovative Parmesan entertainments.
Du Tillot as Producer
(Mr. Du Tillot presided over the theater and all its management: no authority
whether political or military, could involve itself in these matters except with
his permission and under his orders. The guard at the theater had to execute
them even at the time when he had not [yet] assumed the rank of minister,
[and] was intendant of the house. Mr. Pio Quazza was in charge of day-to-day
operations of the theater and performances, and of supervising everything
that was provided[:] the starting time of the performance, the carpenters,
the lighting, the musicians’ dressing rooms, the carriages, wood, payments
for everything for the performances, the orchestra [instrumentalists], actors,
costumers, wigmakers, the masks, the day [laborers] were under his purview,
as well as the profit and income from the performances[;] he was recognized
by the officer, and there were orders to bear a hand when he required it.
Betti the theater’s costumer, is still in charge of the storehouse, and main-
tenance of the costumes. The changes, eliminations, [and] additions that
he made every year required a new inventory that was always signed by the
costumers.
As for the technical management of the theater, there were three kinds
of workers: the decorators [scene designers and prop managers] over whom
Grassi the younger presided; the carpenters who were led by Parmesamin;
the stage machinery operators directed by Des Landes, the son of a machinist
who died in the service of the Infant.
Grassi, senior, out of his love for the theater, had general oversight over
these three sectors; he had the stage sets and props maintained.
Parmesamin, head of the carpenters, had oversight of the wood, the wing
flats, the scaffolding, seats, tools, ropes and the immense quantity of items
belonging to the carpentry department.
Des Landes the machinist had oversight of the ropes, counterweights, the
clouds, and everything concerning the stage machinery.
The costume warehouse, under Betti the costumer’s supervision, was
inspected by Chepi, who had the fabrics and everything the costumer
requested furnished for him, who had to have all the visitors and workers
supervised by people to whom he gave this task and for whom was produced
each year the inventory of what was present [in the warehouse] as well as the
accounts that he presented to Mr. Du Tillot, who had ordered them.
There is a feather designer who is assigned to the maintenance, prepa-
ration, and mounting of the feathers. He was again overseen by Mr. Chepi
who had the inventory list; there are many of them and this sector merits
attention.
Mr. Dallai was the manager of the theaters: but he did his job very poorly,
sometimes dishonestly and always greedily, for the big theater [the Teatro
Ducale] and the small court theater.
An old man named Girolamo is assigned to keep watch for fires, but there
should be someone to be in charge of the doors and keys to the theater.)
statement we learn the central staff members’ identities and jobs, and in one
case a bit about their personalities: Betti the costume designer and Chepi, who
oversaw the costume warehouse; two Grassis, father and son, involved in sets
and props; Parmesamin, the head carpenter; Des Landes the stage machinist;
Dallai the dishonest and greedy house manager; an unnamed feather designer;
and an old man named Girolamo, who kept watch in case of fire. Du Tillot’s
production statement, a type of source that is rare among others related to
Parma’s operas, offers a view not only of what went on backstage, but how the
mechanism actually worked.
The person who engineered the entire operation, overseeing the smallest
details of many elements as well as the larger whole into which they fit, was Pio
Quazza. No one surpassed Quazza in importance for the technical coordina-
tion of the French entertainments and Traetta’s operas. The evidence reveals
that he possessed sophisticated knowledge of theatrical production, that his
presence in Parma predated the French troupe’s arrival, that he knew both
French and Italian,5 and that he communicated often with Du Tillot, reporting
on matters ranging from the hiring of personnel, to descriptions of costumes,
to aspects of finances. He penned numerous letters, receipts, invoices, finan-
cial summaries, and other documents relating to production that span almost
a half century. He helped coordinate the French troupe and served as liai-
son between members of the theatrical staff in various sectors. Assuming the
modern-day role of production manager, after the return of traditional Italian
opera to the Teatro Ducale’s stage he became an impresario and then eventu-
ally the director of the royal theaters (“Ispettore dei RR Teatri”) in 1776. That
a single person enjoyed such a meteoric rise in position and influence, from
overseeing the Teatro Ducale’s day-to-day operations to serving as the general
manager of theaters under the royal house’s purview, is worthy of attention.
Such a progression seems unusual in the picture we currently have of eigh-
teenth-century operatic production. No such figure existed at Turin’s Teatro
Regio, for example, nor in the few other theatrical houses for which we have a
fairly well-developed sense of operatic production practices.6
Archival material affords a fairly detailed view of Quazza’s life and theatrical
involvement, which highlights even more clearly the complexity of Parma’s the-
atrical enterprise. When Quazza arrived in Parma is unknown, but evidence sug-
gests he was born in Colorno.7 His involvement with Parma’s court theater dates
at least from December 1752, when he penned and signed a detailed inventory
of improvements necessary for the renovation of Colorno’s court theater.8 Many
letters Quazza wrote to Du Tillot and signed are extant,9 and comparison of his
Parma, we gain a clear view of the high degree of centralization and coordi-
nation that characterized the theatrical enterprise. Parma’s theatrical account
books reinforce this reality, revealing a wealth of information about not only
theatrical finances but the production process itself. These books corroborate
the complexity on which Du Tillot reported in his production statement. Their
construction and content clearly illuminate the multistep process of which
Parma’s theatrical production consisted and document the many logistical
challenges Parma’s personnel faced. The account books were produced annu-
ally starting in 1756, the year after Du Tillot’s revision of managerial practices.
It is certain that the first extant book was the first one produced; before 1756
theatrical expenses appeared in the royal house’s general account books and
not in separate volumes, and they disappear from the royal house books in
1756. Understanding the books’ organization is crucial to knowing how pro-
duction in Parma worked: they constitute the physical evidence of the com-
plexity of Du Tillot’s undertaking. They consist of large, unbound fascicles
that contain sub-fascicles, which in turn contain smaller sub-fascicles, which in
turn contain loose receipts. The largest books correspond to the years of the
troupe’s residence, when expenses were the most numerous and coordination
the most challenging. The structure of the account books’ cover pages (that
is, the covers of the largest fascicles) reveals that the creation of these specific
pages postdates the seasons they detail; the cover pages were not produced
concurrently with those seasons as one might expect but were actually after-
the-fact summaries. Their organization, in turn, sheds light on how the French
entertainments must have been viewed by those concerned with the finances
of those works.
Figure 2.2 presents the cover page for the 1756 account book and my tran-
scription. The Spanish text and endorsements by Spanish ministers of state on
these pages clarifies the link to the House of Bourbon’s financial administra-
tion. Each row carries a person’s name and represents a sub-fascicle compris-
ing a collection of expenses that total the amount in the right hand column.
The individuals overseeing different sectors of production were responsible
for the associated expenses. Each person bore the related costs, paying up
front to another person, who then paid the merchant, for example, until
such time that he received reimbursement from the royal house. The middle
column contains chronologically ordered dates on which each collection of
expenses was paid out. Two individuals named in Du Tillot’s production state-
ment appear on the master cover page: Grassi and Chepy. (“El mismo,” “the
same,” appearing many times, refers to the name in the row above.) The other
person appearing frequently on this page is Treillard. These men played key
roles in Du Tillot’s theatrical staff and worked with Pio Quazza to facilitate
operatic production.
Detalle
Theatro: {Operas Musicales: 330793.4.4 } 717886.9
{Comedias Francesas: 387093.4.8 } [single bracket pointing
to 717886.9]
Nota
La diferencia de 70375.1.4 procede de la vaxa que se practico a Dr. J. Bapt Grassi en su
cuenta No. 3 por lo que cobro de los [illegible; rip in page]entos, Billetes de entrada, y otros
productos operas y Tuegos en el Carnaval de e[illegible; rip in page -- esto?] [mi?]isimo ano.
The cover pages testify to a reality that is essential for understanding the
French entertainments and their relationship to the Teatro Ducale’s hybrid
nature and complicated identity: like other principal opera houses in Italian
cities of the day, the theater was both a court theater and public theater,
catering to a dual but closely related pair of communities.18 The account
books’ cover pages clarify that the link between Du Tillot’s theatrical and
nontheatrical administrative duties carried over to his staff: members of the
personnel performed roles in theatrical production similar to those they
performed for the royal house. The close knit institutional connection and
the associated familiarity with certain occupations and related tasks undoubt-
edly aided the smooth running of Parma’s theatrical mechanism. Moreover,
certain people performed the same general duties for the theater for about
a decade, resulting in a high level of continuity that must have facilitated
production as well. They formed a “production troupe” of sorts, presumably
enjoying a degree of familiarity similar to those experienced by members of
troupes composed of performers. The account books’ sub-fascicles confirm
and amplify the division of labor reported by Du Tillot in his production
statement.19 The detail with which these and other documents reflect the-
atrical practice reveals with great specificity who was responsible for what.
The names on the account lines for the 1756 book’s cover page shown above
are Francesco (François) Treillard, Joseph Chepi (Chepy), Francesco Grassi,
and Luis Melley. Annotations in the account book receipts clarify their roles,
which vary widely in type and scope of activity.
Treillard, a cabinet secretary in 1768, seems to have risen in the ranks
quite significantly: his first position was stable worker in the royal cavalry.20
The receipts within the account books’ fascicles reveal that he oversaw the
French troupe’s activities and everything concerning them at both Colorno
and Parma: he made payments to the members for their monthly stipends
and related expenses, to merchants for materials, to the costumer for items
for the supernumeraries, to copyists for music copying, and to Quazza for his
service. Chepi (Chepy) was head of the royal house’s wardrobe and jewelry;21
he oversaw costumes for both French and Italian entertainments. The fas-
cicles’ receipts indicate that he paid tailors for fabric, certain merchants for
costume-related items, and others for materials involving the theater’s renova-
tion, undertaken in 1760. Giambattista Grassi, a highly ranked official, served
as secretary of the royal house.22 His father, Francesco, was the royal architect.
The elder Grassi, “out of his love for the theater,” as Du Tillot put it in his pro-
duction statement, oversaw almost every component for the Italian operas at
the Teatro Ducale, paying for everything pertaining to the theater except cos-
tumes (with certain exceptions): scenery, lighting, stage machinery, technical
The covers of the first layer of sub-fascicles bear these labels; figure 2.3
shows the sub-fascicle cover for “comedias francesas” for 1756, with each row
of relevant expenses from the 1756 book’s cover page appearing in sequence
and totaled at the bottom. This structure is consistent from year to year, indi-
cating an ongoing interest in the specification of these expenses. Receipts pro-
vided documentation for the totals in each category. These pages were inserted
inside the sub-fascicles and similarly labeled in minute detail, sometimes down
to small fractions of Parmesan lire. Many receipts carry annotations dividing up
expenses into French or Italian ones; sometimes a third category, “sueldo” (sal-
ary), is present as well. The curious action of designating every single expense
as either French or Italian on the receipts sits rather uncomfortably alongside
the image we have of Parma as a center for stylistic mingling. Where the prac-
tical aspects of accounting were concerned, the distinction between features
representing different national styles was strictly maintained.
Other evidence shows that the account books were apparently assembled
later than the years whose expenses they report. The last two rows on the 1756
page, with dates of 1759 and 1760 (rendered in boldface type in my transcrip-
tion to highlight them), confirm that these pages were put together sometime
after 1756. In fact, the cover page for the “comedias francesas” sub-fascicle in
1756 must have been drawn up as late as ten years after the fact: at the bottom
of the page, a note indicates that the last of the accounting for 1756 occurred
in 1766—which was in fact the year of Philippe de Bourbon’s death.29 At some
point—perhaps in 1766 or soon after, when Ferdinand, Philippe’s brother,
succeeded him—the Bourbon accountants took great pains to determine the
costs of the Italian operas in comparison to the French entertainments.
For purposes of comparison with the cover page for 1756, figure 2.4
shows the 1757 book’s cover page. Taken together they show that the meticu-
lous accounting for the French troupe’s maintenance continued during the
years of its residence and that the practice of separating costs was an ongo-
ing concern. Perhaps these cover pages, and their corresponding receipts with
divided expenses, served as tools to guide new choices regarding expenditures.
Parma’s account books, then, can be considered texts that are at once prescrip-
tive and descriptive, representing reports on expenditures as well as directives
for future undertakings.
The theatrical account books both help and hinder a nuanced understand-
ing of Traetta’s operas. Although it is generally assumed that the expenses of
Traetta’s operas were exorbitant, ultimately leading to the “French plan’s”
abandonment,30 the account books demonstrate that this view is an exagger-
ated one, as we shall see. While the books make it possible to know the sum
total of the French troupe’s costs over time (one could simply calculate the
total of the “comedias francesas” lines in the sub-fascicles) it is far less simple to
assess the costs for a given opera or even a given year because only a portion of
Figure 2.4. Cover page from 1757 account book. I-PAas, Comp. borb., fili correnti,
busta 931b. Reproduced with permission.
a year’s expenses is listed in its book. For example, the cover page for 1759 (the
year of Ippolito ed Aricia’s performance), shown in figure 2.5, demonstrates this
fact. It reveals two important things that contrast with cover pages for previous
years. It shows that the accountants considered Traetta’s operas to be “operas
musicales,” grouping the costs for them together with the other conventional
Italian operas, regardless of their stylistic mixture. It also shows account payout
dates ranging from 1760 to 1761.
The summaries at the feet of the cover pages show that the total for the
French entertainments always exceeds that of the Italian operas. At least in
part, however, the French entertainment total is always significantly higher
because the Italian opera total sometimes lacks the fees for the solo singers:
these costs were borne by the impresarios and not the court, and full documen-
tation for them has not yet come to light.31 Fees paid to leading singers were
consistently among the highest of those that eighteenth-century theaters had
to sustain, and these costs would have raised the “operas italianas” expenses
considerably—likely the reason the court decided to follow the conventions of
the traditional impresarial system regarding them. Nevertheless, it seems that
the Italian operas’ profits were considered to offset the French entertainments’
expenses. Returning to the 1756 cover page’s annotations illustrates this pos-
sibility. Here the Italian operas’ costs and profits were both indicated clearly.
As shown in the 1756 cover page, the earnings from ticket sales, box rentals,
and gambling tables were deducted from Grassi’s portion of the Italian operas’
expenses. It appears that, at least in part, Parma’s Italian operas subsidized its
French ones.
The absence of some data connected with the Italian operas, then, makes it
impossible to know whether the French entertainments or the Italian operas
cost more to produce overall, in absolute terms. But in terms of the court’s
financial contribution during the years Traetta’s operas were given the differ-
ence is clear: the French troupe’s residency cost the court more than all four
of Traetta’s operas did combined. Over the six-year period that spanned the
troupe’s arrival and Traetta’s last opera, in 1761, the court spent about one and
two-thirds as much on the French troupe as they did on all the Italian operas—
that is, Traetta’s operas and the other Italian ones given between 1759 and
1761, taken together (or, almost double, to put it another way).
The account books and other materials relating to production in Parma
offer a wealth of insight into the French context out of which Traetta’s operas
grew. They reveal Du Tillot’s priorities: to build up the costume and scenery
warehouses; to renovate the theater to bring it in line with high-class ones; to
raise the profile of artistic production; and to produce the best French dance,
theater, and spectacle the Bourbon court was capable of offering. They help
us gain a clearer and more detailed view of the people involved in produc-
tion, which in turn heightens our awareness of the crucial link between a the-
ater and its sponsoring patron, in an era when sovereignty still dictated and
formed the conditions under which opera was produced and enjoyed by a pub-
lic composed of his subjects. In Parma, court officials at the opera house were
more than spectators watching from their theatrical boxes—they were active
participants in the entertainments’ production. Such involvement must have
increased these individuals’ sense of ownership of the works and investment in
their success. The affection Parma’s public had for its French entertainments
was to be felt in tangible ways later on, through specific performance-related
elements of Traetta’s first two reform operas in particular. It was a deep con-
nection that figured decisively in the complex of circumstances that at once
conditioned and reflected Parma’s unique theatrical culture.
Parma’s full immersion in French music and theater set the stage for Traetta’s
operas. Starting in 1756 the troupe gave a broad range of the era’s popular
musical-theatrical genres—some two hundred works, including about twenty-
three operas and ballets by Jean-Philippe Rameau and other French compos-
ers. The adaptation process scholars have observed in Traetta’s operas actually
began with the French operas, as evidence connected with these four French
works given in Parma demonstrates.
Les Incas du Pérou / Gl’Incà del Perù from Les Indes galantes
Opéra-ballet; Rameau / Fuzelier (1735)
18 December 1757
Anacreonte
Balletto; Rameau / Bernard
Likely adapted from Anacréon, third entrée from the opéra-ballet Les surprises de
l’Amour (1748; 1757)
Carnival 1759
demonstrate that operatic reform was a flexible concept, one that embraced a
mosaic of responses to the calls for change that transformed musical theater in
Enlightenment Europe.
Delisle choreographed the ballets and coordinated the troupe’s perfor-
mances of plays and the operas that represented the lighter side of Parma’s
repertory. Mangot, by contrast, decisively influenced its serious side, as we
saw earlier. Before reviewing the four works under discussion here, it bears
repeating that Mangot was an experienced and versatile musician when he
arrived in Parma in 1756. He had served in Lyon as opera director, orches-
tral conductor, oboist, composer, and singer; he had mounted productions
of many operas by Rameau and others for Lyon’s opera theater; and he had
sometimes sung bass roles in them. In Parma he oversaw the copying of parts
for the French works and led the orchestra. Given Mangot’s experience pro-
ducing his brother-in-law’s operas in Lyon, and his own knowledge of writing
for the voice, he could certainly have composed the music for the revised
portions of Parma’s French works.
The five extant librettos for Parma’s French productions represent a small
though striking corpus of texts that raise intriguing questions. First, variations
in their content as a group prompt speculation about the publics for which
they were intended. In the case of the four operas (that is, Zelindor, re de’ silfi,
Gl’Incà del Perù, Castore e Polluce, and Titone e l’Aurora), how the poetry was pre-
sented seems to have varied according to genre and chronology. For the diver-
tissement and the act of an opéra-ballet (that is, Zelindor, re de’ silfi and Gl’Incà del
Perù), the librettos include only the Italian translation, while for works in the
loftier genres of tragédie lyrique and pastorale-héroïque (that is, Castore e Polluce and
Titone e l’Aurora), the French poetry and Italian translation are given side by
side. The presence or absence of composers’ names is curious as well: Rameau
and Mondonville are named in the librettos for Castore e Polluce and Titone e
l’Aurora, respectively, whereas in the librettos for Zelindor, re de’ silfi, Gl’Incà
del Perù, and Anacreonte, no composers are named (though in the preface to
Anacreonte, the poet of Les surprises de l’Amour, Pierre-Joseph Bernard, is men-
tioned, for reasons I explore further below). For the operas, then, identifi-
cation of a work’s composer coincided with the appearance of both French
and Italian texts in the librettos. It would seem that the librettos for Castore e
Polluce and Titone e l’Aurora in particular were directed toward a more sophis-
ticated sector of Parma’s public than were those for Zelindor, re de’ silfi and
Gl’Incà del Perù. The differences seem to represent a gesture toward catering
to the needs and desires of two different publics: one that knew French and
could understand the relationship between the original poetry and its trans-
lation, and would thus recognize and appreciate the names of Rameau and
Mondonville, and another public that would have needed no more than the
Italian translation to follow the action and enjoy the spectacle. Chronology
seems relevant here as well: performances of the operas with Italian-only libret-
tos—Zelindor, re de’ silfi and Gl’Incà del Perù both of 1757—preceded those of
works whose librettos contained both French and Italian texts—Castore e Polluce
and Titone e l’Aurora, given in 1758 and 1759, respectively. Traetta’s first reform
opera, Ippolito ed Aricia, premiered a short while later in 1759—a work that like-
wise catered to Parma’s linguistically hybrid public.
Second, speculating as to who translated the French texts and where the
newly created additions came from testifies to the highly collaborative nature
of Parma’s creative process. Mangot and Frugoni likely worked together on
the more extensive revisions involving newly created texts; Mangot probably
wrote new French verses that Frugoni then translated. The combined efforts
of the creative personnel resulted in a repertory that was unique to cities
around Enlightenment Europe where French troupes were engaged: no other
city offered entertainment that varied as widely as Parma’s, ranging from spo-
ken drama to the era’s leading forms of musical theater: opéra-comique, tragédie
lyrique, pastorale-héroïque, opéra-ballet, and divertissement.
Francœur and Rebel’s one-act divertissement Zélindor, roi des silphes was the
first French vocal work performed in Parma for which a printed libretto sur-
vives. According to the cover page (fig. 3.1) it opened during autumn 1757
but it apparently received at least four performances during November and
December.1 Translated as Zelindor, re de’ silfi, the work introduced the Parma
public to French airs, passages of récitatif, and choruses. Comparison with the
original French libretto of 1745 exhibits various alterations, the most signifi-
cant of which involves the opera’s final scene.
Le Chœur.
Ah! Ah! Quel bien est plus doux!
Ah! Qu’il est digne de vous!
La Silfide.
Que votre empire
Doit vous charmer!
Le Chœur.
On n’y respire
Que pour aimer.
On danse
Fin du Ballet
La Silfide.
L’Aria è il Regno, che t’attende,
Come nuovo suo splendor.
Il Coro.
Nel tuo Regno fortunato
Non respirarsi, che Amor.
Zelindor.
Del Dio dei Cori
Dolce è l’Impero.
Tesse di Fiori
Le sue Catene,
Per farle amar.
Troppo severo
Di Giove è il Regno,
Che fa sul Mondo
L’alto suo sdegno
Dal Ciel tonar.
Si danza.
Fine del Balletto.
As shown above, the opera in its original form concludes with a chorus.
A two-stanza aria and a dance replaced the chorus in Parma, considerably
expanding the end of the work. The aria was presumably set to music as a
da capo ariette, given its poetry’s structure and contemporary French conven-
tion. It highlighted the leading role of Zélindor, the king of the sylphs, and its
singer, the haute-contre Jean-Joseph Guigues. Its text adds additional praise for
the power of love, the piece’s overall theme. Guigues’s extra aria suggests he
was a valued troupe member; in fact he would be showcased even more promi-
nently a month later, in Les Incas du Pérou, and offered a contract in Vienna
after the troupe’s departure.
The revisions made to Les Incas du Pérou were significantly more extensive
than those for Zelindor, re de’ silfi. Gl’Incà del Perù, as it was titled in Parma (The
Peruvian Incas) was a single act from Les Indes galantes (The Amorous Indies).
First given in 1735, this opera had earned Rameau the greatest success of his
long career. The Indies of Les Indes galantes were understood to mean any non-
European locale, and the entrées are love stories that take place in North America,
Turkey, Persia, and Peru. In 1757 and 1758 the troupe performed three acts
from the work. Two of them were given in private performances for the court:
Les sauvages, “The Savages,” which featured images of native Americans brought
to Paris from the French colony of Louisiana, and L’acte turc, “the Turkish act,”
the common name for Le Turc généreux, about a pasha’s love for his French slave.
Gl’Incà del Perù was given at least five times; it received four performances in 1757
(on 9, 10, 12, and 13 April),2 and then was given for the public in a performance
of 18 December the same year, made accessible by the court poet’s Italian trans-
lation of the French libretto as shown here. Parma’s court and public could thus
count themselves as among Europe’s most fashionable audiences by offering this
entertainment in particular, one that reflected the era’s passion for exoticism.3
Sgavetti’s commentary from around the time of Gl’Incà’s performance
reveals much about local reception of this work and others (mostly uniden-
tified) that the troupe performed.4 His remarks are regularly peppered with
criticisms about how costly the French productions were, but also report that
crowds of people flocked to the theaters to see them when they could. We get
a strong sense from Sgavetti that the public in both Colorno and Parma were
wildly curious about the French troupe and its theater in general, both spoken
and sung, even though he is personally quite negative about it; on 19 October
1757, regarding the performances in Colorno, he says that he would not have
gone even if they had paid him to do so.5 The theater was frequently opened
to the public starting on 3 November 1757, when the French performers, with
the court, returned to Parma from Colorno.6 Sgavetti reports on 20 November,
regarding the French work (unnamed) that had been performed the previ-
ous evening, that the public had never before seen anything like it.7 On 4
December there was free admission with large crowds of locals in attendance.8
Figure 3.2. Libretto for Les Incas du Pérou / Gl’Incà del Perù (Parma, 18 December
1757), cover page. US-Wc.
During November and early December 1757 in particular, it seems that a con-
certed effort was made to cultivate the public’s fascination with the French
troupe and its performances.
Sgavetti’s entry for 18 December 1757, the date on which Gl’Incà del Perù was
given (according to its printed libretto, elucidates the context for the altera-
tions made in Parma. These consist of a lengthy, rewritten final scene with new
choruses, dances, arias, and a duet. The modifications seem to speak directly
to both French and Italian audiences by highlighting aspects of both operatic
styles: they align the work more closely with Italian convention by showcasing
the soloists, and the additional dances and choruses enhance the French diver-
tissement-style scene, one that includes dialogue and dance. The work garnered
success with the court, as demonstrated by Conte Carlo Castone Della Torre di
Rezzonico’s glowing report of its performance:
(The variety, the decor, the charm of those imaginative compositions must
have enticed the Italian attendees, who usually liked to hear conveyed in
their own language and music, the grandeur of such pomp-filled spectacle,
in which the dances and the choruses are intertwined, and from the poetry,
music, and dance one moving and lively picture is composed to the delight
of the ears, the eyes, and the heart.)
Les Incas concerns the rivalry of the Incan high priest Huascar and the
enlightened Spaniard Don Carlos as they pursue the love of the Incan princess,
Phani-Palla.10 The short work features no fewer than two volcanic eruptions; in
the second one, which concludes the action, Huascar is buried in molten lava.
The entrée’s new conclusion, with its additional divertissement, would have spo-
ken to Parma audiences on several levels.
Scene VIII.
Le Volcan se rallume, & le Tremblement de terre recommence.
Huascar:
La flâme se rallume encore . . .
Loin de l’éviter, je l’implore . . .
Abîmes embrâsez, j’ay trahy les Autels,
Excercez l’employ du Tonnerre;
Vangez les droits des Immortels;
Déchirez le sein de la Terre;
Sous mes pas chancelans,
Renversez, dispersez ces arrides Montagnes;
Lancez vos feux dans ces tristes Campagnes,
Tombez sur moy, Rochers brûlans.
The original final scenes include a trio, shown above, which confirms the
mutual devotion of Phani and Don Carlos, and the defeat of the unhappy
Huascar. Huascar then sings a dramatic accompanied recitative as the volcano
erupts and covers him with flaming rocks (also shown above). This ending
appears in all revivals of the work in the decades after its 1735 premiere, and
those occurring after Parma’s production in 1757. There is no evidence that
Parma drew on any French version of the work for the revised finale.
Figure 3.3 presents the analogous part in the Italian translation. Huascar
simply exits after the trio. What follows is entirely new material, in which
the opera ends happily: Carlos quiets the volcano in his aria, and then the
Peruvians appear and sing an exultant chorus, followed by a dance.
The scene continues, as shown in figure 3.4, Phani-Palla singing a joyful aria,
which is followed by dialogue between Phani-Palla and Carlos that culminates
in a love duet. After a choral dialogue, the scene concludes with the entrance
of the Spaniards—a group that does not appear in the original—a final short
aria for Phani-Palla, and a large-scale production number with all groups of
dancers. These changes probably occurred for several reasons. The additions
increased the work’s length, expanding it so that it likely resembled more
closely the length of Zelindor, re de’ silfi (a modern performance of which lasts
about forty-eight minutes),11 possibly exceeding that length given its numer-
ous additional musical pieces. It therefore represented a more substantial
entertainment than it would have in its original form (a modern performance
of which lasts about thirty-eight minutes).12 Apart from the obvious opportu-
nity for increased spectacle afforded by the additional dances, the extra arias
highlight the two lead singers, haute-contre Joseph Guigues as the Spaniard Don
Carlo (Zelindor’s sylph king from a month earlier) and soprano Marguerite
Hédoux as Phani-Palla. Their roles are expanded, especially Phani’s, with her
three added solo pieces. Such additions were entirely consistent with the Italian
convention of showcasing an opera’s prima donna and primo uomo; they rein-
force the importance of these two new troupe members in particular, and the
pride Parma took in its French troupe. Also conventional is the new lieto fine,
which Italian audiences would have expected. The superiority of the Spaniards
as they celebrate their conquest—which could only have delighted the Spanish
members of the Bourbon court—is emphasized with the new group of dancers
in the additional divertissement. The audience members were invited to see the
Bourbon victors as enlightened and benevolent through mesmerizing dance
Figure 3.4. Libretto for Les Incas du Pérou / Gl’Incà del Perù (Parma, 18 December
1757), 22–23. US-Wc.
and stage spectacle. The same performer portraying both the sylph king and
the Spanish victor one month apart offered them a familiar face and voice,
serving to further reinforce the message of Bourbon sovereignty.
Finally, Sgavetti points us toward the reason that Parma would have favored
this work in particular and why its creative personnel made the changes it did.
On 18 December 1757, the night Gl’Incà was performed for the public, he
reports that the Spanish ambassador, the Marquis de Revilla, was visiting Parma
in honor of the Queen of Spain’s birthday.13 Gl’Incà was thus the theatrical
highlight of the festivities surrounding the visit of this honored guest from
Madrid, which included a public appearance of the entire court at a banquet
honoring the royal daughter and an evening at the theater. Displaying the maj-
esty and power of Bourbon Spain would thus have been a high priority on this
occasion in particular. The French troupe’s performing forces were fully on
display, and the altered version of Rameau’s work magnified the splendor and
grandeur of the event. This work, bringing together midcentury Parma’s three
different but interrelated publics—the French, the Spanish, and the Italian—
represented something highly unusual and, for the Bourbon enclave in north-
ern Italy, truly multicultural.
Castor et Pollux far superseded all other French operas and ballets given in
Parma in the number of its performances.14 It was heard once in 1756, then
five times during 1758, and eleven times during carnival 1759. The libretto
printed for the performance on 6 December 1758 (see fig. 3.5) contained the
original French and the Italian translation. Mangot included by far many more
pieces from Castor in his anthology than from any other French work. Its popu-
larity in Parma must have led to its selection for Traetta and Frugoni to rework
as I tindaridi. Considered at the time to be Rameau’s crowning achievement
of tragédie lyrique, Castor et Pollux tells the story of the slain Castor, his beloved
Telaira, and his brother Pollux, who goes to retrieve Castor from the under-
world. The brothers take their place in the heavens in the climactic final scene.
In Parma, Castor’s concluding ariette was expanded, becoming more Italianate
in style and highlighting the star-caliber singer. The scene ends with a new cho-
rus that is not in the 1754 revision.
The significant variants between the French original and the Italian transla-
tion concern Castor’s ariette in the final scene, “Tendre amour,” and the scene’s
closing chorus (see fig. 3.6). Here comparison of a number of French music
and textual sources shed light on the piece and Parma’s production of the
opera. The aria “Tendre amour” appears in Mangot’s anthology in a version
whose text matches that of the 1758 Parma libretto.15 Its musical content is
Figure 3.6. Libretto for Castor et Pollux / Castore e Polluce (Parma, 6 December
1758), 102–3. US-Wc.
expanded from that found in the engraved score of 1754.16 It matches a later
version of the piece, which is found in a manuscript full score for Castor et Pollux
from 1757 that was presumably prepared for a French revival of the work.17 A
corresponding libretto was printed the same year in Paris, but without singers’
names.18 Despite the existence of a 1757 score and libretto, the performance
for which they were intended was apparently not executed, since no other evi-
dence confirms one. But this version, of the aria at least, somehow made its way
to Mangot in Parma. These sources represent the first known musical evidence
of a link between Parma and Paris, and between Rameau and a Parmesan pro-
duction of a work by him. Rameau is named on the 1757 score’s title page;
if the content of the 1757 score reflects his intervention, then the version of
“Tendre amour” sung in Parma contained revisions stemming from Rameau
himself. The presence in Parma of an ariette revised by Rameau lends support
to the possibility that Rameau could also have composed the aforementioned
missing music for the extended, added final scene in Parma’s production of
Gl’Incà del Perù. Alternatively, Mangot could also have written it. Until other
evidence emerges the identity of this excerpt’s composer remains a mystery.
Example 3.1a. “Tendre amour,” Castor et Pollux 1754 Paris score, p. 158, mm. 28–34
À *œ Ñ œ œ. Ñ
# # œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ r
œ. œ œ. œ
& # ‰ œ œœ. œœ J
œ
œ
Ñ
# # j œ œ œ œ #œ Ñ
œ œ œ nœ œ . œ œ ˙ œ. œ œ œ œ œ
& # œ œ œ. œ. œœ
œ
tous fort
#
B ## ˙ . ∑ ∑ ∑
– nes
œ j œ. œ œ
? ### œ ˙. ˙ œ. œ
à ˙ œ
À # # ˙.
& # ∑ ‰
##
& # ˙ Œ ∑ ‰
# œ. Ñ jœ
B ## Œ œ œ
œ. J J œJ # œJ œ
J
Tout m'a dit dans les en - fers,
# œ. œ œ
Ã? # # ˙ Œ Œ J
6 6
first added passage provides the singer the chance to display at the outset of
the piece his skill at coloratura, and to demonstrate one of his high notes, a1,
in measure 31, which is sustained in measure 34, and touched on twice more
in the passage. This first interpolation is a third setting of the refrain, “Qu’il
est doux de porter tes chaines,” and prolongs the dominant harmony, which
ultimately lends a sense of finality to this section (occurring at m. 41) that is
lacking in the original.
The next alteration, shown in examples 3.2a and 3.2b, occurs toward the end
of the piece. (As in the previous example, 3.2a shows the passage in the 1754 score
where the insertion occurs in the later sources with an asterisk marking the spot
where it starts; 3.2b shows the insertion.) Here, a fourteen-measure passage in
### ‰ œ œ œ œ œ ˙
Œ ∑
&
### œ œ. Ñ
œ œ œ œ œ. œÑ œ
& œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
tres doux
### ˙
& œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ
B ### ∑ ‰ œ œ.
Ñ
œ œ œ œ œ.
J œÑ œ
J J
Qu'il est doux, qu'il est
#œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ
Ã? # # œ ˙
À ##
& # ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
##
& # ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
### œ œ j ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙. ˙ œ
&
œ œ ‰ J
Ñ
### œ. ˙
& œ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙. œ
j œ œ œ œ ˙. œ
B ### œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
doux de por - ter tes chai - - - -
# ˙ œ.
Ã? # # œ ˙. ˙. ˙ œ
(continued)
##
& # ∑ ∑ ∑
j
### œ ˙ ‰ ≈ œR
œ. œ œ œ. œ œ ˙.
&
Ñ
### r
≈ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ. œ
& ˙ ‰ œœ˙ œ
œœœœœœœœ œœœœ œ Ñ
B ### œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ.
œœ
- - - - - - - -
# ˙.
Ã? # # œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ
œ œ œ œ
À ### œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J ‰ Œ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ # œ
&
### œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ # œ
& ∑ Œ Œ
## œ œ. œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ # œ
& #
## Ñ œ. œ œ œ # œ
& # œ œ. œ œ œ œ. œœ œ
Ñ
B ### j œ œ ˙ Œ Œ
˙ œ J œ
- - - nes tes chai - nes
# ˙. œ
Ã? # # ˙. ˙
forz
Example 3.2a. “Tendre amour,” Castor et Pollux 1754 Paris score, p. 161, mm. 82–90
À ## Ñ * œ ˙
& # œ. œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œœ œ
Ñ œ ˙
B ### œ . œ. œ œ œ œ œ œJ
œ œ œ œ J
chai - - - nes, qu'il est doux de por - ter tes
## Ñ œ
& # œ. œ œ. œ œ œ Œ Œ ∑ Œ œ
chai - - - nes. Qu'il est
# œ œ
Ã? # # œ . œ ˙œ
œ ˙ Œ ∑ Œ
chai - - - nes. Qu'il est
Ñ Ñ
À # # # œ œj œœ œ œ œ ˙ œ œœ œ œ œœ œ . œœ ˙ œ œ j˙.
œ œ œ œ . œ œœ œ ˙ .
& œ Jœ œ œ
J œ.
Ñ Ñ
Ñ œ œ. j ˙.
œ j
B ### œ œ œ œJ
J œ œR ˙ . œ œ. œ
J œ
R
chai - nes, de por - ter tes chai - - - nes.
## œ œj œ j Ñ
& # œ œ ˙ œ œ œ. œœ œ ˙ j
œ ˙.
doux de por - ter tes chai - - - nes.
œ œ œ j
? ### œ ˙ ˙ œœœœ ˙
à œ
œ ˙.
doux de por - ter tes chai - - - nes.
the choral section is added to the ariette’s conclusion. The upper line in the
texture is expanded and then answered by the other vocal parts. Le Noble gets
another moment of soloistic display, jumping the octave on A (m. 96) to begin
a descent that arrives suddenly, in measure 101, where he is joined by a soloist
in the chorus, introducing one more iteration of the refrain text. Le Noble’s
high range is on display here again, as he leaps to a sustained b1 this time (m.
103), instead of a1 as before. The interpolation ends with a choral response
(mm. 105–10).
These two passages, although brief in relation to the surrounding context
(the aria as it appears in Mangot’s anthology is 117 measures in length, and
##
& # œ Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
– nes
jœ
B ### œ Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
– nes
? ### Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
œ
– nes
##
& # œ Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
##
& # œ Œ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
##
& # œ Œ ‰ j
œ ˙. ˙. ˙.
##
& # " " " "
#
Ã? # # ˙ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
(continued)
B ### ∑ ∑ ∑
? ### ∑ ∑ ∑
œ œ œ œ œ j˙
### ∑ ‰ J œ
Œ
&
## œ œ œ œ œ
& # ∑ ‰ J œ œ. œ
J
##
& #
˙. ˙. œ œ ˙
##
& # " " "
#
Ã? # # ∑ ∑ ∑
(continued)
ÀB ### œ œJ ˙ j
œ œ œ œ œ œJ ˙ œ. œ
J J J
J
doux, qu’il est doux de por - ter tes chai -
## j j . ‰ œJ ˙
Tous fort
& # œ œ œ œ
J ˙ œ ‰
J
de por - ter tes chai - nes, qu’il est
B ### ∑ ∑ ‰ œj ˙
qu’il est
? ### ∑ ∑ ‰ œJ ˙
qu’il es
Ñ
## œ ˙ œ. œ.
& # ‰ J œ œ œœ œ Œ Œ
Ñ
### œ ˙ œ. œ œ œ.
& œ œœ œ Œ Œ
## Ñ
& # œ œ ˙
œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
##
& # " " "
Ã? # #
# ∑ ∑ ‰ œJ ˙
(continued)
# Ñ œ œ
B ## ˙ . œ œ œ
J
œ œ œ.
J
doux de por - ter tes chai - - -
Ñ
? # # # œJ œ n˙ œ œ œ œ œ. œ
J J
doux de por - doux, de por - ter tes
##
& # ∑ ∑ ∑
##
& # ∑ ∑ ∑
## œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœ
r
& # œ. œ œ
##
& # " " "
Ñ
? ### œ œ n˙ œ œ œ œ œ. œ
à J
(continued)
## Ñ
& # œ. œ œ. œ œ œ Œ Œ ∑
chai - - - - nes
# œ œ. œ j
œ ˙
B # # œJ J J Œ ∑
– nes tes chai - nes
? ### œ . œ ˙ ˙ Œ ∑
chai - - - - nes
## œ œ œ œ
& # ∑ Œ œ
## œ œ
& # ∑ Œ "
## Ñ
& # œ. œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ Œ Œ ∑
##
& # " œ Œ Œ ∑
Ñ
? ### œ . œ œ Œ ∑
à œ ˙
longer in the 1757 score, when it elides with the final choral section), tell us
quite a bit about Le Noble’s voice. The first interpolated passage suggests it was
an agile one with a wide range, capable of sustaining long coloratura phrases
sung at a slow tempo. The second reveals the high extreme of Le Noble’s
range. It also lends more weight to the end of the excerpt and the work,
enhancing the chorus’s already considerable role. These passages demonstrate
that French star singers, like their Italian counterparts, could also have their
music altered to highlight their abilities.
Castor et Pollux was performed more times at court than any other French
opera; Traetta’s reworking of it as I tindaridi perhaps represents a move to
capitalize on its evident success with Parma audiences. The alterations to the
musical text suggest that this important solo moment for the opera’s leading
character was revised to showcase him even more prominently.21 The choral
component of Traetta’s I tindaridi is one of the work’s outstanding features,
and the choruses of that work outnumber those of Ippolito ed Aricia. The
changes made to Castor et Pollux’s final scene, with the expansion of the chorus,
seem to foreshadow the choral emphasis to come in the second reform opera,
I tindaridi.
Parma’s Anacreonte
Zélindor, Les Incas, and Castor et Pollux all involve the addition or expansion of
at least one solo piece that highlights the roles of one or more leading sing-
ers in the Italian tradition. In featuring either a new or enhanced chorus or a
new dance in their concluding scenes, they maintain consistency with French
convention. Anacreonte, the next French work in Parma, in carnival 1759, was
an actual generic mixture, an adaptation of a model closer to the type that
Traetta’s operas represent. Anacreonte was one of two ballets offered during
carnival season based on entrées from opéras-ballets by Rameau. The other was
L’atto turco, undoubtedly a version of Le Turc généreux, also from Les Indes galan-
tes (no libretto or musical materials connected with L’atto turco have yet sur-
faced). Anacreonte is based not on Rameau’s ballet, Anacréon, but on the entrée
with the same title from his Les surprises de l’Amour of 1748, revised in 1757, with
poetry by Pierre-Joseph Bernard. Anacreonte represents a crucial link between
the French operas altered to fit Italian convention and Traetta’s Italian adapta-
tions of French operas.22 Figure 3.7 presents Parma libretto’s cover page.
Anacréon became the most successful portion of the piece in Parisian per-
formances of the revised Les surprises de l’Amour.23 In the story, the aging Greek
poet loves both his wine and his nymph Licoris. The Priestess of Bacchus,
angry at Anacreon’s divided loyalty, causes a storm and spirits away his beloved,
forcing him to choose: he cannot serve both Bacchus and Cupid. But Cupid
Scene 1: Licori enters onto the stage dancing and leading several young girls
holding flower garlands in their hands to ornament the bust of Anacreonte.
explaining her heartfelt sadness. [In the preface that precedes the scenario
it is clarified that this verse is: “La fida Giovinetta al Veglio infido” (From the
faithful young girl to the faithless old man).]
Scene 4: Anacreonte, lost in his thoughts, returns to his friends, who seek to
distract him with happy strains of harmony and dance.
Scene 5: Nightfall and a terrible storm have arrived. The horror of the storm
mounts and for a few moments interrupts the pleasures that pursued the
moody poet. In the middle of this stormy scene an unfortunate youth moans.
He is dragged forward. Anacreonte picks him up and seeing him so badly
stricken, guides him to the altar and warms him. Meanwhile the sinfonia and
dance continue, interrupted occasionally by lightning strikes. To attest to his
recovery, the youth joins the dancers. Anacreonte caresses and gazes upon
this graceful youth, and joins him in the dance. Nevertheless, he [Anacre-
onte] suspects something. He follows him [the youth], and ably loosens the
cords of his hat and a veil, which falls onto his back. He recognizes Amore
[Cupid] by his blindfold and quiver. He falls at his feet and worships him.
Scene 7: The graces, merrymakers, and followers of Anacreonte and Licori form
couples and perform a very joyful contredanse, which concludes the ballet.
(continued)
12/11/2018 5:10:08 PM
Butler.indd 82
Table 3.1.—(concluded)
Scene 5: “Sarabande” 3; D mi. (54–55) Amour returns Lycoris to Amore recovers and 1:40
Anacréon dances
“Entrée de Jeux” “doux” 2 to 3; F maj. All enter Anacreonte recognizes 1:01
(55–57) Amore and adores him
Passepied 3 F maj. (57) [continuation] [continuation] :32
8;
Scene 6: “un peu gaï”; 2; B-flat Menades and followers Scene 6: Amore presents 2:59
“Entrée de les suivans de maj.–G mi. (64–67) of Amour are reconciled Licori to Anacreonte;
l’amour” they approach the altar
“Gigue” 2; G maj. (68–69) [continuation] [Continuation] :39
“Contredanse” “Vitte”; 2; G maj. (87–93) [continuation] Scene 7: joyful 1:11
contredanse celebrating
the union
*Durations based on Les surprises de l’Amour (audio recording).
Note: My reconstruction is based on excerpts from Rameau and Bernard’s Anacréon (from Les surprises de l’Amour; rev. 1757) and Parma scenario.
12/11/2018 5:10:11 PM
the french entertainments ❧ 83
at the entrée de les suivans de l’amour in scene 6; the gigue symbolizes their joy
after they pledge eternal faithfulness. Scene 7, the contredanse, concludes the
action. The dances assembled in this way yield a unified work with effective
tonal groupings, dramatic contrasts, and rich opportunities for spectacle. It
was but a short step to the next variety of adaptation, Traetta’s reworking of
Hippolyte et Aricie as Ippolito ed Aricia the same year, 1759.
With the last ballet Parma’s French troupe gave before departing, Mangot,
Delisle, and Frugoni were able to practice on a small scale what Traetta and
Frugoni—likely with Mangot’s involvement as well—would do on a much larger
one just a few months later with Ippolito ed Aricia. In just under two years, the
great variety of adaptations in Parma’s French operas ranged from those that
were minor (added arias and expansion of an existing one), to those that were
more extensive (an addition of a large scene complex with new dances, cho-
ruses, and solo pieces), and included a generic transformation. Mangot and
Frugoni were experienced and highly skilled in an array of types of adaptation
and generic intermingling that they would introduce to the incoming maestro
di cappella. Traetta entered into a solid tradition established by his collabora-
tors; altered versions of the originals were familiar, popular, and expected fare
for both the court and public. Traetta’s operas, with Italian music and text, and
with features that linked them firmly and in different ways to the French works
that inspired them, represented a new type of alteration—a variation on an
established and distinctly Parmesan theme.
Moving On
While Looking Back
Traetta’s First Parma Operas
On 5 June 1758 Du Tillot received the news from Bonnet in Paris that the troupe’s
residence would soon be coming to an end.1 A flurry of activity ensued, one that
represented a transition affecting the repertory in decisive ways. In the space of
some eleven months, an almost complete overhaul of personnel occurred: the
French singers, actors, some of the dancers, and Delisle left Parma; new danc-
ers, a new French choreographer, and new Italian singers arrived; and Traetta
came and composed Solimano (for carnival 1759) and Ippolito ed Aricia (premier-
ing 2 May 1759). Mangot represents the thread of consistency that runs through
this changeover; he is the single most influential source of continuity between
the French troupe’s departure and Traetta’s arrival, and between the French
entertainments and the Italian operas with French components. Important links
were forged during this period of transition: those between the French troupe’s
presence and Traetta’s first two reform operas, Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi,
and those between the two works themselves. The troupe’s performances estab-
lished precedents that profoundly influenced Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi not
only in certain aspects of shared personnel and in repertorial overlaps, as we
have seen, but in the way Parma’s audiences must have experienced these two
operas. Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi have more in common with each other
than either does with any other of Traetta’s works for Parma; most obviously, they
are Italian adaptations of Rameau’s first two tragédies en musique (Hippolyte et Aricie
and Castor et Pollux), Parma gave them in the same performance season (spring,
and not carnival), they share the same Italian solo singers, the same dancers and
choristers, and they were linked in the minds of those who were concerned with
it was the last carnival season to occur before the spring seasons became the
more prominent ones, it was by far the troupe’s most significant in terms of
their public appearances, and it was the first time Parma’s audiences experi-
enced Traetta’s music. Understanding how French and Italian aesthetics came
together during this season, in a way that differs from earlier ones during the
troupe’s tenure, helps set the stage for Ippolito ed Aricia’s premiere.
As we have seen, during this season French operas were given in public
performances at the Teatro Ducale alongside Italian ones, the latter featur-
ing entr’acte dances performed by the troupe’s dancers. Anacreonte, the adap-
tation of Rameau’s Anacréon as a ballet, contributed to the mix. The troupe’s
departure was imminent and some newly arrived dancers overlapped with
troupe members. Delisle choreographed the season’s balli, his influence still
resonating with audiences. Traetta composed his first Parma opera, Solimano,
for this season, a work that could have served as a sort of audition piece, his
engagement representing the chance for Du Tillot and others to determine
how the public reacted to his music; in fact Traetta did not gain the appoint-
ment of maestro di cappella until after Ippolito ed Aricia, suggesting that this
opera, too, represented a second stage of his trial period in Parma—a sort of
callback, perhaps.
Parma added a single chorus to the libretto for Solimano that Traetta
set.2 The multisectional choral text appears neither in Giovanni Ambrogio
Migliavacca’s original for Dresden, set by Hasse (1753), nor in the libretto’s
second version, set by David Perez for Lisbon (1757), which Traetta’s fol-
lows.3 Could Parma’s Solimano have been a chance for Du Tillot to determine
whether or not Traetta wrote effective choral music, a key element in the first
two reform operas? The lack of surviving music for the opera’s choral singers
leaves this question an open one (only a few arias from the work are extant).
Traetta might have benefited from the fact that some of the choral singers
for whom he wrote were already known to him, having recently sung his set-
ting of La Nitteti at nearby Reggio in 1757.4 Being familiar with their abilities
could have helped Traetta tailor his choral music to their strengths, as com-
posers did in creating arias for solo singers. Solimano’s Turkish setting and
characters might have afforded Parma the opportunity to reuse some cos-
tumes and perhaps even scenery, Rameau’s L’atto turco (Le Turc généreux from
Rameau’s Les Indes galantes, “the Turkish act,” as it was known in Parma),
appearing in the array of carnival offerings.5
Parma’s reputation as “the Athens of Italy” was one that it gained gradu-
ally throughout the century. Although exactly when the moniker emerged is
unknown, the connection could have been a literal one, stemming from the
archaeological research Philippe de Bourbon sponsored, which reached its
zenith later, during the 1770s.6 But the idea of Athens as the source of drama
at its purest, and a link to Parma, surfaces much earlier, at least as early as 1756,
The first two spring operas highlighted the element of the erstwhile troupe
that Parma was nevertheless still able to replicate: the choreographic one.
By the month of May Delisle and the French singers and actors had left the
city. Pietro Alovar (Pierre Alouard), replacing Delisle, choreographed and
served as lead male dancer for all four of Traetta’s reform operas. Some of the
troupe’s dancers stayed on, the leading ones among them being Marc’Antonio
Missoli, Giustina Campioni, and Constanza Tinti. Missoli had choreographed
Solimano’s first ballet, and was named in that libretto as one of the troupe’s
leading dancers. These three dancers performed in both Anacreonte (under
Delisle) and Ippolito ed Aricia (under Alovar), providing stability to the core
group of lead dancers in the midst of change. The lead dancer Mimì Favier
was an outstanding new arrival; Ippolito ed Aricia represented her first Parmesan
appearance. The presence of newcomers Alovar and Favier, with the continua-
tion of Campioni, Tinti, and Missoli into May 1759, demonstrated that Parma’s
ability to produce French entertainment of the highest quality was neverthe-
less still intact. Certain structural elements of Traetta’s first operas that involve
dance within the scenes attest most strongly to this concern. Although the solo
dancers changed gradually over the years of Traetta’s tenure in Parma (Tinti
left before I tindaridi, and Missoli before Enea e Lavinia), the presence of Alovar
and Favier in all four of Traetta’s reform works must have served to unify these
operas in the minds of the audience.
These two additions to Parma’s creative personnel enjoyed reputations as
among the era’s leading dancers, within Italy and beyond its borders. The
French choreographer and dancer Pierre Alouard had been employed by
numerous Italian cities, including Milan and Turin, before coming to Parma.
His name appears in contemporary sources in a wide variety of spellings, such
as Allouar, Aloardi, Alonard, Alovar, Aleardi, Alnardi, Loard, Louair, and
Lovar.10 Alouard’s activity postdating his Parma sojourn has been noted for
extending “beyond the scope of pure divertissement, also incorporating nar-
rative elements and ever more extended pantomimic sequences.”11 Favier’s
talents were cited in a review published in August 1761 that linked Parma’s
dances with those of Paris, comparing the dancer to Lani:
C’est un éloge mince des ballets de Parme, car ils rappellent ceux de Paris.
Mademoiselle Favier, premiere Danseuse de cette Cour d’Italie, approche
de la precision, de l’élégance & de la noblesse de Mademoiselle Lani. . . .
La cadence de ses mouvemens me repésentoit l’ondulation d’une mer tran-
quille; peu de sauts, point de bonds, de la majesté, de la grace, sans quoi le
talens ne sont rien.
(This is a slender eulogy of the ballets of Parma, because they recall those of
Paris. Mlle [Mimi] Favier, premier dancer of this Italian court, approaches
in precision, elegance, and nobility Mlle Lani. . . . The cadence of her move-
ments represented to me the undulation of a tranquil sea; few leaps, no
jumps, partaking of majesty, of grace without which talents are nothing.)12
Alouard and Favier were both singled out for praise in a letter of two months
later that same year, being mentioned as among the best dancers active at
that time by a Florentine who recommended artists to the Neapolitan the-
ater’s impresarios; the writer cites Alouard for his portrayal of serious charac-
ters and Favier for her celebrity.13 The engagement of these two artists was a
coup for Du Tillot, and plenty of space to display them was made in Traetta’s
reform operas.
Having received more scholarly attention than any other Parma opera, Ippolito
ed Aricia has emerged as the emblematic Parmesan reform work, the one that
has come to represent Parma in the minds of opera scholars.14 It is also the
only Parma reform opera ever to have enjoyed a modern recording, therefore
likely reaching a broader contemporary public than other Parma operas.15 In
comparison to Traetta’s other works, much is known about its genesis, although
it is useful to bear in mind that the related commentary emanated from two
main streams: from Frugoni in his letters to Algarotti, on the one hand, and
thus representing the former’s point of view, and from Du Tillot’s mechanisms
for promoting the opera to a European public, on the other hand. Our view
of the work has consequently taken shape largely under the influence of this
combined perspective and its related critiques, obscuring other features of it
that might help us understand it differently.
Scholars have tended to focus on the elements of Ippolito ed Aricia that most
intrigued—and bothered—its creators: components Frugoni adopted from
Pellegrin’s original libretto and from Racine’s Phèdre; the glowing terms in
which contemporaneous correspondence and reviews described the work and
its performance; and its problematic status as a reform opera given its empha-
sis on solo arias and the high degree to which it showcases the leading sing-
ers. Some have mentioned the 1757 Paris revival of Hippolyte et Aricie, although
no connections between this production and Parma have yet been established.
However, in a review published the year of Ippolito ed Aricia’s premiere, one
evidently directed toward an international audience, the opera purports to
offer to the public “les endroits les plus admirés” (the best loved passages) of
Rameau’s Hippolyte et Aricie.16 The message seems clear, especially when con-
sidering that Ippolito ed Aricia followed on the heels of Hippolyte et Aricie’s 1757
Parisian revival: if you want to hear what is most appreciated in Paris, come to
Parma. The opera that was characterized as one of the “best advertised events
of the decade” represented a sort of “greatest hits” version of Rameau’s first
tragédie.17 Almost all the “best loved passages” from Hippolyte et Aricie consist of
music that highlighted Parma’s dancers.
The use of Rameau’s music in Ippolito ed Aricia was evidently so well-known at
the time that Traetta felt it necessary to defend himself against accusations of
theft. Replying to a critic in a strongly worded letter, Traetta claimed never to
have seen Rameau’s score.18 Stylistic resemblances observed subsequently have
led certain scholars to reject Traetta’s claim,19 but what if he had nothing to
do with the admired passages of Rameau’s music being inserted into his score?
Mangot could easily have accomplished this task.20 Apart from his thorough
knowledge of Rameau’s works in general, Mangot knew Hippolyte et Aricie spe-
cifically very well; in 1750 he had mounted a production of it in Lyon (and with
a certain Le Noble as Hippolyte, possibly the same singer who had portrayed
Castor in Parma—perhaps yet another link between the troupe’s repertory
and Traetta’s operas). Mangot would include seven excerpts of Hippolyte et
Aricie in the anthology he prepared for Martini (as many as were drawn from
Castor et Pollux, pieces from these two works far outnumbering those oth-
ers represented in the volume), demonstrating his high esteem for it. That
Mangot himself might even have suggested Hippolyte et Aricie to Du Tillot as a
good choice of an opera to be adapted is not beyond the realm of possibility.
Mangot was someone whom Du Tillot respected and whose input on musical
matters he valued highly, as demonstrated most clearly by Du Tillot’s sup-
port of Mangot in the power struggle between the musician and Delisle. That
Mangot might have had influence on this level is entirely consistent with the
documented evidence of his intervention in other ways concerning Parma’s
musical theater.
The excerpts from Hippolyte et Aricie that appear in Ippolito ed Aricia have
been identified by other scholars and may be summarized briefly here. They
are given in table 4.1. Parma took over all the divertissements from the origi-
nal and added two more, one of which employs an instrumental version of a
sung air by Rameau. Hippolyte et Aricie’s striking tonnerre concludes Ippolito ed
Aricia’s act 1, scene 4.21 The other dance music in the added divertissements has
not been identified; the dances might be newly composed or preexisting ones
drawn from other works. Instrumental versions of sung pieces, all by Traetta,
appear in the opera, all of them providing extra opportunity for dance. In
order of appearance these arrangements are: the passage designated “Danza
sacerdotessa sola” in act 1, scene 3, an arrangement the aria “Fuggi amor,”
which it follows; the sinfonia announcing Proserpina’s arrival in act 2, scene 6,
which prefigures the following chorus, “Sparve l’empio mortal”; and the dance
derived from Traetta’s canzonetta “Nettun sull’onde” in act 3, scene 9, which
follows the sung piece of the same title.22
Precedent for at least one, and probably two, of the principles on which
these alterations were based had already been established during the troupe’s
residence: Gl’Incà del Perù featured an added divertissement, while Anacreonte
could very well have featured instrumental arrangements of sung pieces,
as we have seen. Mangot could easily have created both the insertions and
arrangements. An overview of these components and the dancers related
to them, given in table 4.2, affords a view of the overall structure and the
emphasis it places on the leading dancers:
Composer unknown
Allegro
Largo staccato
Primo rondò grazioso
Secondo rondo
A capo al primo rondò
Act 2, scene 3: Danza di deità infernali (Rameau): Alovar featured
premiere air infernal
deuxieme air
Act 2, end: the second of two added divertissements: sinfonia Favier featured
announcing arrival of Proserpina, act 2, scene 6—an
instrumental version of a sung piece*
Danza:
Staccato
Adagio grazioso
Andantino
Piano sempre; da capo al maggiore
Act 3, scene 9 (end): Danza di Marinai e Marinaie Favier, L’Houlier,
(Rameau): Tinti, and
[Marche] ends “segue la canzonetta” Campioni
Canzonetta: “Nettun sull’onde” featured
“Danza; andante” = dance derived from Traetta’s canzonetta
[Premier Air des Matelots]
[Deuxieme Air des Matelots]
Tambourin [Premier Rigodon]
[Deuxieme Rigodon] ends da capo il maggiore
(continued)
Components Dancers
Act 4, scene 6 (end): Danza di Cacciatori e Cacciatrici Alovar and Favier
[Premier Air] featured
Danza [Deuxieme Air] (Rameau)
Act 5, ult: Danza Musette [Marche] All the principals
“si replica la danza di dietro, poi segue” featured
Ciacona
Prima Gavotta
Seconda Gavotta
(Rameau)
*Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 371. The title of this sung piece is not given but com-
parison of the surrounding music reveals its relationship to the following chorus, “Sparve
l’empio mortal,” Garland repr., 138–41.
Dances and Dancers as in the Parma Libretto for Ippolito ed Aricia, I-Vqs
(Parma: Monti, 1759), xv–xvi
Attori Danzanti.
Atto Primo.
Sacerdotesse di Diana.
Signora Giustina Campioni
Sig. Fiorenza Delisle Signora Lucia Lolli.
Signore Signore
Teresa Vismara. Antonia Desfontaine.
Maria Conti de Sales. Francesca Delisle.
Rosa Minarelli. Angela Ricci.
(continued)
Atto Terzo.
Marinaj, e Marinaje.
Signora Mimi Favier. Sig. Luigi l’Houlier. Sig. Costanza Tinti.
Signora Giustina Campioni.
Signori Signore
{ Giambattista Bourgeois. Teresa Vismara. }
{ Giuseppe Bianchi. Maria Conti de Sales. }
Signori Signore
Francesco Delisle. Antonia Desfontaine.
Innocenzio Gambuzzi. Lucia Lolli.
Antonio Campioni. Rosa Minarelli.
Vincenzio Tinti. Angela Ricci.
Atto Quarto.
Cacciatori, e Cacciatrici.
Sig. Pietro Alovar. Signora Mimi Favier.
Signori Signore
Giambattista Bourgeois. Teresa Vismara.
Giuseppe Bianchi. Maria Conti de Sales.
Innocenzio Gambuzzi. Lucia Lolli.
Francesco Delisle. Antonia Desfontaine.
(continued)
(concluded)
Atto Quinto.
Pastori, ed Abitanti delle Selve d’Aricia
Principali Abitanti.
Signori Signore
Pietro Alovar. Mimi Favier.
Marc’Antonio Missoli. Costanza Tinti.
E Tutti li sudetti in Corpo.
adds oboe and horns to the string ensemble, consists of a fanfare-like introduc-
tion to the chorus, prefiguring its main material.26 Favier would be singled out
again the following spring in I tindaridi, where she played the frightening spirit
Tisifone (again, the only dancer in this work to interpret a named character),
receiving a solo dance here as well.27 Her appearance in the underworld diver-
tissements of both operas suggests that she gave effective performances in these
particular scenes of high drama. Her characters in Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi
likely served to link these works in audiences’ minds, resembling the situation
we saw in chapter 3, when Zelindor, re de’ silfi and Gl’Incà del Perù could also have
been perceived as related through Joseph Guigues’s performance as the sylph
king and the Spaniard victor in rapid succession.
The divertissements added to acts 1 and 2 of Ippolito ed Aricia are similar in
structure and length, each consisting of four dances, the last of which ends
with a da capo, lending a balance and consistency to the overall structure. The
divertissement concluding act 3 is structured in much the same way, although
it is longer, providing solo moments for all the lead dancers but Alovar. The
“Danza di Marinari e Marinaje,” preceding Traetta’s canzonetta “Nettun
sull’onde,” likely introduced the figurants. Then, presuming the lead danc-
ers’ appearances in this divertissement corresponded to their order as given in
the libretto, Favier performed to the instrumental arrangement of Traetta’s
canzonetta (inserted before Rameau’s dances began, labeled simply “danza”),
L’Houlier to Rameau’s “premier air des matelots” (labeled “Larghetto”), Tinti
to the “deuxieme air des matelots” (labeled “Allegro”), and Campioni to the
tambourin (labeled with the dance’s genre).28 Presumably the company joined
together on the da capo concluding the divertissement.
Ippolito ed Aricia’s added divertissements expand on the second of the two basic
divertissement types that appear in Rameau’s original.29 The first of these types,
the “danza di deità infernali” in act 2, scene 3, is a “restrained and dramatically
cogent divertissement on the Lullian model,”30 consisting of two airs contrasting
in affect, the first an entrée grave. By contrast, the divertissement concluding act 5
is lengthier, more varied, representing “a diffuse, and drawn out, spectacular
one, where dance is featured for its own sake.”31 The divertissements added to
the ends of acts 1 and 2, with their numerous sections and contrasting dance
types, correspond to the latter category. They showcase the principals while
also providing ample opportunity for the figurants to be seen.
In much the same way that conventional opera seria had long highlighted
the solo Italian singer, Parma’s first reform opera highlighted the solo French
dancer, emphasizing divertissements that featured multisectional structures and
the gradual presentation of solo performers who were new to Parma. In rein-
venting Rameau’s first tragédie, retaining all its dances and adding new ones,
Ippolito ed Aricia at once introduced Parma audiences to an unfamiliar work by
a now familiar composer, while providing an element of French spectacle they
had long since come to appreciate.32 Hippolyte et Aricie won approval gradually
during the course of the eighteenth century, only later on gaining the repu-
tation that it enjoys today as one of Rameau’s finest achievements;33 perhaps
it was helped along in this regard in part by Parma’s creative, internationally
publicized re-creation, which showcased its memorable moments. With the
ability to produce French opera in Parma now a thing of the past, such a re-cre-
ation might have been seen by Parma’s court and the city’s other French resi-
dents as a reassuring substitute, the next best thing in the wake of the troupe’s
departure.
Original key
Italian title or Act and as in Castor et
French title in scene in I Pollux (1754)
brackets tindaridi Tempo Key if different Meter
Ballo [Air tres 1, 10 [no tempo A major G major 2
4
pointé] indication]
Parma’s familiarity with Castor et Pollux might have affected the use of Rameau’s
dances in I tindaridi, although in an entirely different way. While in Ippolito
ed Aricia the emphasis seems to have been placed on re-creating Rameau’s
original divertissements and expanding upon them, in I tindaridi not only are
the number of dances drawn from the original reduced, but they are manipu-
lated differently: four of the six occur in new keys and two appear in different
points in the drama.34 The audience had no need for introduction to admired
excerpts in the case of I tindaridi, although they might have hoped to be able
to remember bits of what they had already seen and heard. That I tindaridi
represents a much greater departure from its model than does Ippolito ed Aricia
has long been acknowledged; given that Parma’s troupe had performed Castor
et Pollux many times by 1760 (including just a few months prior to I tindaridi’s
premiere), the expectation that I tindaridi would therefore provide a more
thorough reworking of the source material was likely much greater than it was
for Ippolito ed Aricia.
Parma’s 1758 public performance of Castor et Pollux, for which the libretto
was printed, likely retained all the dances from the 1754 version, as a com-
parison of librettos demonstrates. The 1754 libretto from Paris and the Parma
libretto are essentially identical in content, including the stage directions that
signal the start of a dance.35 The dances from Castor et Pollux taken over into I
tindaridi appear fairly far apart in the drama. The first to be heard in I tindaridi,
the “air trés pointé,” is the very first of Castor et Pollux’s dances, occurring in act
1, scene 5; it was shifted to the end of I tindaridi’s first act.36 The next one to
occur in I tindaridi is the minuet, in act 3, scene 6 (the act’s conclusion), which
belonged to the second divertissement in Castor et Pollux’s act 4.37 The premier
gavotte that follows was drawn from Castor et Pollux’s second divertissement of act
3.38 One wonders if this displacement might have been perceived by listeners
familiar with Rameau’s original as a sort of game of hide-and-seek; guessing
what the next familiar excerpt might be, and anticipating where it might occur,
would have added another layer to audiences’ delight in a work they knew well.
This sort of procedure recalls Rameau’s referencing of Vivaldi’s Le quattro sta-
gioni in his Anacréon, mentioned in chapter 3, in which Rameau was perhaps
“toying” with his audience as well.39
The highest concentration of Rameau’s dances in I tindaridi (also those
that appear in the order of the original, in contrast to those just mentioned)
occurs in act 4, scene 5, when Castor appears in the Elysian Fields just before
Pollux comes to retrieve him. There are three dances by Rameau at this spot
(the air preceding the chorus of happy spirits, and the first and second passep-
ieds) and they appear in the second of the act’s two divertissements. The “danze
dell’ombre felici” (dances of the happy spirits) as labeled in the libretto, repre-
sent the first time Alovar appears onstage in I tindaridi. Here he is paired with
Santina Zanuzzi, a newly arrived dancer who debuted in this work (though ear-
lier in it, during act 2’s second divertissement). Alovar’s first appearance coin-
ciding with the moment in the opera that contains the greatest number of
Rameau’s dances in succession seems significant, as if it were meant to encour-
age some sort of association between the choreographer and Rameau’s music
in particular. The dances by Rameau included at this spot in the opera, the
brief air (labeled “grazioso”) and the first and second passepieds, frame the
divertissement as a whole. The dances contrast in style, and would have allowed
Alovar to show off his versatility, the choreography perhaps including a broad
range of movements and expressions.40
Number Crunching
However well I tindaridi helped the court and Parma’s other French residents
remember their beloved Castor et Pollux, it also needed to appeal to the pub-
lic. New evidence of reception can be gleaned from a heretofore unexplored
set of printed income statements for each night of I tindaridi’s run, which
comprised thirty-one performances given between 14 May and 30 June 1760.
Figure 4.1 presents one of them, from the first performance (“prima recita,”
14 May). The sheets enable us to do important things to understand Parma’s
entertainments in a more highly nuanced way. First, since they report the dates
on which I tindaridi’s performances occurred, and associated attendance fig-
ures, the income statements allow us to construct a performance calendar and
to view related attendance patterns, affording a detailed view of production
that is impossible to achieve for any other Parma opera. Second, they furnish
information that allows us to compare the reception of I tindaridi and Ippolito
ed Aricia based on income. Admittedly, one must always exercise caution when
using such evidence: since unknown factors might have influenced attendance
at any time, earnings on a given night cannot in themselves be taken to indi-
cate relative failure or success. In context, however, such data can be useful in
establishing preliminary observations that aid us in understanding a city’s com-
plex relationships with its entertainments, particularly in Parma’s case.
As the calendar (table 4.4) and attendance records (table 4.5) show, I tindaridi
opened on a Wednesday night. With the exception of Fridays when the theater
was evidently always dark, performances normally took place over two or three
nights in succession, with one or two nights off in between (as shown by the dates
in boldface type in the calendar in table 4.4, which denote nights when perfor-
mances did not occur). Viewing the tally of nightly attendance figures, drawn
from the income sheets, demonstrates that attendance was higher on certain
nights than on others. Not surprisingly, opening night brought a high number
of attendees, 382 of them, but not nearly as many as the closing night total, by far
the highest, at 578. But as the data show, Sunday nights were the most popular
ones, with Mondays a close second. The calendar shows that I tindaridi was always
given on Sundays, and on most Mondays. Why might these particular nights of
the week have been the favored ones? A possible answer lies in a crucial element
Table 4.5. Nightly totals for the performances with highest attendance
Parma
Date residents Nonresidents Total
Wednesday, 14 May (opening night) 346 36 382
Monday, 26 May 316 57 373
Sunday, 1 June 369 49 418
Sunday, 8 June 324 63 387
Monday, 16 June 385 54 439
Sunday, 22 June 292 29 321
Sunday, 29 June (penultimate 371 42 413
performance)
Monday, 30 June (closing night) 530 48 578
Note: Totals are drawn from I tindaridi income sheets, 14 May–30 June 1760, I-PAas, Comp.
borb., fili correnti, 933.
Note: From I tindaridi income sheets, 14 May–30 June 1760, I-PAas, Comp. borb., fili correnti,
933.
contemporary links among nature, sovereignty, and the French court.44 Such
links served to signify even more strongly Bourbon preeminence and its pro-
jection in Parma and abroad. During the first years of Traetta’s tenure, the
troupe’s gradual withdrawal from Parma, the advent of a new stylistic blend,
and soon to come, the merging of two of Europe’s most powerful dynasties,
Rameau’s music within these works must have represented to Parma audiences
an element of stability, one that was pleasant and perhaps even reassuring—a
safe harbor within an otherwise volatile atmosphere of profound transition.
When did reform end in Parma? Scholars disagree; for some, it occurred
with Traetta’s third reform opera, Le feste d’Imeneo, the opéra-ballet given for
the wedding of Princess Isabella of Parma to Archduke Joseph II of Austria in
September 1760.1 For others, Enea e Lavinia of the following spring (1761),
the fourth opera modeled on a tragédie lyrique, brings the reform efforts to a
close.2 The problem of marking the end of the era lies, in part, in the dis-
similarity of Traetta’s last two works for Parma. But while these pieces exhibit
discontinuity in relation to each other, they also reflect a certain degree of con-
sistency in relation to the prior adaptations. Du Tillot declared the period of
innovation to have definitively concluded in 1762: “Le projet de nos opéras sur
un nouveau plan est abandonné.” The end of the end, as it might be termed,
encompassed the eventful period between I tindaridi and Du Tillot’s letter to
Algarotti, with whom he had shared similar aspirations for the fusion of French
and Italian operatic styles.
Le feste d’Imeneo premiered in September 1760, just three months after I
tindaridi’s closure. The short gestation period of Traetta’s third reform opera
meant that things happened fast. Perhaps the most important practical change
that occurred was the renovation of the Teatro Ducale during summer 1760
in preparation for the wedding festivities. The French architect Jean-Antoine
Morand was summoned from Lyon (as Mangot had been before him) to direct
and oversee the renovations. He enlarged the auditorium and transformed
The work represents a new genre, the opéra-ballet, which had been seen occa-
sionally during the French troupe’s tenure, but never before in an Italianate
version. Le feste d’Imeneo, Frugoni’s last libretto for Parma, comprises three
short acts and a prologue, each consisting of its own self-contained action
with all of them loosely related to the overall theme of love, in the manner of
the genre: the prologue is titled “Il trionfo di Amore,” and the acts are “Atto
d’Iride,” “Atto di Saffo,” and “Atto di Eglé.” Le feste d’Imeneo is an adaptation
of no fewer than three generically similar works: Les fêtes d’Hébé, ou Les tal-
ents lyriques (an opéra-ballet with music by Rameau set to poetry by Gautier de
Montdorge, 1739), Les fêtes d’Hymen et de l’Amour, ou Les dieux d’Egypte (another
opéra-ballet with music by Rameau set to poetry by Louis de Cahusac, 1747), and
Le ballet des sens (a ballet-héroïque—a type of opéra-ballet on a classical or exotic
subject—with music by Jean-Joseph Mouret set to poetry by Pierre-Charles
Roy, 1732). Le ballet des sens (The Ballet of the Senses, titled in the printed
score from Paris as Le triomphe des sens),6 consists of a prologue and five acts
representing the senses (“L’odorat,” “Le toucher,” “La vue,” “L’ouïe,” and “Le
gout”; or, smell, touch, sight, hearing, and taste). The third of these senses—
sight—would be particularly important for Parma. This work was given in Lyon
in 1739. Mangot was there in that year but had not yet become director of
opera; he could have remembered and suggested the work when the sources
for Parma’s wedding opera were assembled. Mangot certainly knew the music
of Mouret, having produced two of his operas in Lyon, as we saw in chapter 1:
Les amours de Ragonde (1749), in which he sang the title role, and the entrée La
Provençale from Les fêtes de Thalie (1750). Rameau’s Les fêtes d’Hébé was done in
Lyon in 1740 and again in 1749;7 Mangot oversaw the latter of the two revivals,
singing two roles in the production.
Although no direct evidence of Mangot’s collaboration in Le feste d’Imeneo
has yet come to light, he must have been involved in the production, and here
it is useful to recall his correspondence with Padre Martini in Bologna in 1760.
Mangot had written to Padre Martini that events surrounding the wedding
caused his delay in sending the collection of excerpts Martini had requested.
It is certain that Mangot had copies of both Rameau works with him in Parma.
Since one of the pieces in Mangot’s anthology is drawn from Les fêtes d’Hymen
et de l’Amour (the rondeau “Ma bergère”), it is reasonable to think that he might
have had a role in this work’s adaptation as part of Le feste d’Imeneo. As the
correspondence reveals, Mangot would have included excerpts from Les fêtes
d’Hébé in what he sent to Martini, if not for the fact that Martini already had the
piece in his library.
Scholars have consistently noted the anomaly that Le feste d’Imeneo represents
within Parma’s operatic reform tradition both for its generic designation as
an opéra-ballet and for the reason it exists at all. Since the work is an occasional
one, it has been seen as standing outside the reform efforts.8 Yet the same
themes appear in its historiography as for the reform-inspired opere serie: how
reformist is the piece? How greatly reworked is the model? What is the nature
of the adaptation? Le feste d’Imeneo has been judged as a true re-creation, one
more thoroughly reconceived than Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi.9 The man-
ner in which Frugoni created the first of its acts, the “Iride” act, however, has
also been likened to the same process he used in Ippolito ed Aricia and I tin-
daridi; this is also the only act of the three that he calls an “imitation” in his
preface to the libretto.10 It is worth reviewing the end of this act since this por-
tion of the work links it to the earlier reform operas in an unmistakable and
ingenious manner.
Frugoni drew his first act, the “Iride” act, from the third entrée of Mouret and
Roy’s libretto for Le ballet des sens, the “Acte de la vue,” (the “Sight” act); the
other acts in Le feste d’Imeneo are all drawn from the librettos for the Rameau
works. Were it not for the fact that Frugoni openly acknowledged his process
of imitation in the “Iride” act, he might have been criticized for the “theft,” as
it was called by one contemporary reviewer.11 The “Iride” act went beyond the
others in Le feste d’Imeneo in the special meaning it carried for Parma audiences.
It represented an homage to the young, lovely, talented, and expertly educated
Princess Isabella, who was revered in Parma as the protector (protettrice) of
painting, poetry, and dance.12 It is perhaps not surprising that Frugoni selected
the allegory of the sense of sight from among those in Roy and Mouret’s work
to honor the beloved princess. The spectators’ focus was directed, by means of
the title as well as the act’s spectacular content, toward the visual element, with
sight personified by the character of Iride, the follower of Juno who creates
rainbows in the heavens. Iride entered by descending on a rainbow in Parma,
the clouds parting as she arrived.13 An even more elaborate machine appeared
from above toward the act’s end: it contained a lavish royal pavilion, with fly-
ing cupids encircling it, who, after its descent, pulled back its curtains to reveal
three thrones on which the other characters, Amore, Iride, and Zeffiro, sit
to observe the dancing and choral singing.14 The vertical traffic of deities on
two occasions, then, kept the spectators’ eyes consistently engaged during the
short act.
The use of Rameau’s music adds even more emphasis to this portion of Le
feste d’Imeneo, on a number of levels: it enhances the significance of the “Iride”
act within the work as a whole, the prominence of sight as the queen of all the
senses, the link between the act and Princess Isabella, and the link between
this opera and Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi. With two opéras-ballets by Rameau
serving as sources for Le feste d’Imeneo, one might expect Rameau’s music
to appear often throughout the acts. Yet the only act in which any piece by
Rameau appears is this one, as if a strong association between the French mas-
ter’s music—perhaps even this dance in particular—and the princess herself
was meant to be perceived by the audience. What is more, the piece is from
Les fêtes d’Hébé, as if the opera’s creators sought to tie the single entrée in Le feste
d’Imeneo modeled on a work by a different composer (Mouret) to Rameau him-
self. The dance, “l’air gracieux pour Zéphire et les graces,”15 comes from scene
5 of Les fêtes d’Hébé ’s prologue.16 Les fêtes d’Hébé, one of the composer’s most
successful operas, was revived in Paris in 1747–48 and 1756–57. Mangot knew
the music well, since he had overseen a production of the opera in Lyon in
1749; perhaps he suggested this piece’s addition to Le feste d’Imeneo, just has he
could also have done for the many other pieces by Rameau that were incorpo-
rated into Traetta’s earlier operas. By 1760 he could have done this numerous
times; perhaps it was even expected of him by then, encompassing an unoffi-
cial but essential part of his duties at the reform operas’ advent.
The piece’s placement in Le feste d’Imeneo is significant as well. It is the first
dance of the act’s second divertissement.17 This second divertissement, which
closes the act, does not appear in Rameau’s original work. Frugoni added it
when he adapted the libretto, giving the act in Parma not one, but two diver-
tissements. He was familiar with this particular feature of the adaptation process,
having already done the very same thing in Ippolito ed Aricia.18 The divertisse-
ment, labeled “Ballo” in the Parma score, opens with Rameau’s piece, labeled
“tendrement”; like Rameau’s dances in the earlier Parma operas, it is not
identified. It is identical to Rameau’s original in scoring and key but omits the
repeats of each of the dance’s two sections. It is followed by a series of other
dances, which contrast in key, meter, scoring, and affect. The libretto for the
“Iride” act clearly indicates which solo dancer was highlighted in this secondo
divertimento: the star ballerina Mimì Favier, lauded in Parma earlier for her
performances in both Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi. In the libretto’s cast list
Favier’s name appears first, labeled a solo; other solo dancers’ names follow,
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two of them labeled a due, then a group of four labeled a quattro. Assuming
the order of dances in the score corresponds to the order of the solo danc-
ers’ names in the libretto, Favier danced to the first piece in the divertissement,
Rameau’s “air gracieux pour Zéphire et les graces.”
With the cherished granddaughter of Louis XV soon to be made archduch-
ess, and to be in residence at the Habsburg court, the association between
Isabella and France—and the reminder, through her, of Bourbon power—
could not have been missed by those who witnessed the festivities. Hearing
Rameau’s music, in the very act that honored Isabella, while watching one of
Europe’s most celebrated ballerinas dance to it, must have transformed this
particular moment into something beyond a celebration of the wedding—it
represented a celebration of Bourbon sovereignty, and a fond adieu to Parma’s
beloved princess.
Overlapping Celebrations
The wedding was celebrated in both Parma and Vienna. The many points of
contact between the occasional festivities in each place merit further atten-
tion, furnishing sufficient material for a large study of their own.19 The the-
aters exchanged some of their leading theatrical personnel: Caterina Gabrielli
went from Parma to Vienna while Gaetano Guadagni and the dancer François
Dupré reversed course,20 going from Vienna to Parma, to name a few of the
main exchanges. Isabella was the dedicatee of Le feste d’Imeneo’s Viennese coun-
terpart, Alcide al bivio (Hercules at the Crossroads), a festa teatrale on poetry by
Metastasio with music by Johann Adolf Hasse.21 The librettos for the two main
wedding operas, Le feste d’Imeneo and Alcide al bivio, were brought together pub-
licly as prestigious literary texts two years after the wedding, appearing in the
first two volumes of Ottaviano Diodati’s twelve-volume collection of contempo-
rary dramas, Biblioteca teatrale italiana (1762–65).22 Both cities also produced
smaller-scale works as part of the festivities. The serenata Tetide, with poetry by
Giovanni Ambrogio Migliavacca and music by Gluck, was given in Vienna as
the second opera. A libretto for Il trionfo d’Imeneo, a two-act drama with parts for
two choruses and five soloists, was published in Parma in conjunction with the
wedding.23 The libretto’s poet, Giuseppe Pezzana (1735–1802), is named on
the title page, where he is designated as “pastor arcade di Roma.”24 Although
no evidence of a musical setting or a performance has yet come to light, the
work might have been presented (perhaps recited) at either the court theater
at Colorno or the Teatro Sanvitale.25
Vienna continued to maintain interest in Traetta’s music after the wedding.
A condensed version of I tindaridi was apparently prepared for performance
there, but no evidence of a production survives.26 The composer was engaged
for a new opera at the Burgtheater early the next year, Armida.27 Its source was
In spring 1761 Parma gave Enea e Lavinia, set by Traetta to a libretto by Jacopo
Antonio Sanvitale, the third full-length opera based on a French tragédie lyrique
during the spring performance season. But this was not a reworking of a
Rameau opera, nor was the libretto revised by Frugoni. It apparently contains
no music by Rameau. It therefore represents both a departure from the norm,
in these ways, and an effort to maintain continuity, in others: like Ippolito ed
Aricia and I tindaridi before it, Enea e Lavinia also occupied the spring season,
it features the same troupe of dancers who performed in the earlier spring
operas, and the same choral singers (though fewer of them), and perhaps its
clearest marker of continuity was its prima donna: it represented the return to
Parma, after her Viennese sojourn for the wedding, of the duchy’s renowned
prima virtuosa di camera, Caterina Gabrielli.
The aria that had migrated from Armida to Enea e Lavinia, “Respiri omai con-
tento,” in Enea e Lavinia’s act 3, scene 2, was one of Gabrielli’s.30 The request
for its inclusion in the Parma opera could well have come from her, or perhaps
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key of A major and the same 83 meter, and the only significant variants concern
the barring of certain pitches within beats (which seem to correspond to the
differences in the sung texts). However, the aria in the Parma score contains
none of the performance-related annotations made to the Vienna score. The
alternate text and related markings in the Vienna score, therefore, perhaps
represent yet a third version of this evidently popular piece, one related to
both the Parma and Vienna versions.37
The aria is a tour de force of the virtuosity for which Gabrielli was known.
A lengthy dal segno aria (at 136 measures long) in 83 meter marked “allegro”
and scored for strings, it includes two long passages of coloratura. They differ
from each other in ways that demonstrate contrasting elements of Gabrielli’s
vocal flexibility. The first (ex. 5.2a) occurs just thirty-nine measures into the
piece, during the A2 section, and on its first phrase, ascends to the highest
pitch in the piece, c3 (“high C”). It includes three ascending runs consisting
of figures that descend by step in sequence. The second (ex. 5.2b) consists
in general of more frequent changes of direction and more repetition, with
series of ascending and descending figures that demonstrate agility rather than
the high end of Gabrielli’s range as in the previous section. The charming,
dancelike piece, with its lilting tune and exciting bravura passages likely made
a strong effect on audiences in both cities. It resembles pieces Traetta wrote
for her in the Parma operas, though it does not compare to some of them in
its technical demands, length, or in extreme of range.38 It does, however, serve
to reinforce the point that a close connection existed between this composer
and singer, one nurtured by frequency of collaboration and physical proximity.
Gabrielli and Traetta’s Parma years provided the two artists with a fertile cre-
ative environment, a sort of laboratory in which they seemed to have worked
out a strong formula for their mutual future success.
This aria was only one of Gabrielli’s pieces from Enea e Lavinia that was to
have a life outside Parma’s production of the work. In yet another unconven-
tional example of a migrating musical number, a second piece from Enea e
Lavinia involving Gabrielli reappeared in a different opera by Traetta in which
she also created the prima donna role. Enea e Lavinia’s act 2 duet, “Vanne, mio
caro, addio,” would be used in Traetta’s setting of Didone abbandonata for Naples
in 1764, with Gabrielli as Didone39—a suitcase duet, as it were.40 Gabrielli’s suc-
cessful career included prima donna roles in ten operas composed by Traetta;
the replication of multiple pieces written for her in multiple operas certainly
testifies to her power and influence over her own operatic music in general,
and her preference for Traetta’s music in particular, as scholars have long
noted. It also suggests that these pieces and Gabrielli’s performance of them
were apparently one and the same in the minds of audiences. These pieces
garnered attention of wide geographical reach, and they show that a singer of
Gabrielli’s caliber could build a repertory of specific items whose inclusion in a
newly composed work was planned in advance, rather than on the spot after a
singer’s arrival in a city. As such they stretch our understanding of the insertion
aria convention, and provide tangible musical evidence of Gabrielli’s status as
the century’s leading prima donna.
(The three operas given in autumn, and carnival 1742 at the Teatro San
Giovanni Grisostomo in Venice cost [a total of] 192,461.11 lire. Entrance
fees: 131,930.13 [lire]. Losses: 60,513.18 lire. The aforementioned sixty mil-
lion five hundred thirteen lire and eighteen Venetian soldi are equivalent to
121,027.16 Parmesan lire.)
The operas to which the numbers refer are not named in the document,
but knowing their performance season permits easy identification. Two of
them are important for Parma. The first of these is Merope, with poetry by
Apostolo Zeno (adapted from Bartolomeo Vitturi) and music by Niccolò
Jommelli.54 Sanvitale apparently contributed an aria to this work, further
strengthening his link to the document.55 The second is Statira, with poetry
by Francesco Silvani (adapted from Carlo Goldoni) and music by Nicola
Porpora.56 Unconventional features in both librettos suggest further possible
links with Parma. Both operas feature added choruses: the librettos exhibit
stanzas of choral texts that do not appear in their original versions. In act
1, scene 2 of Merope, dances appear twice, between two choral stanzas, in a
manner reminiscent of a French divertissement (the indication “ballo” appears
between the stanzas). Statira’s choruses (in act 2, scene 10) are multisectional
(a one-stanza chorus appears mid-scene, in act 3, scene 14). The addition of
choruses and dances, especially those interpolated into the action in this way,
was unusual at this time, as Italian theaters generally lacked the resources to
present these components.57
Since Sanvitale had contributed an aria to Merope, he could have had
other contact with that production as well, or at least with the alteration of
its text; perhaps he even witnessed—or actually effected—the insertion of
these French-inspired components into the preexisting dramatic fabric. The
meaning of the link between these operas in Venice in 1742, and those later in
Parma, if there is one, is open to question, especially since the Venetian operas
predate Du Tillot’s arrival in Parma by six years. It seems significant, however,
that Du Tillot took interest in the financial circumstances of these operas in
particular, ones that had featured on a small scale in Venice the same sort of
stylistic innovation he was to present some twenty years later on a much larger
one in Parma—especially since these operas apparently resulted in a signifi-
cant financial loss.58 (The Venetian theater gave a serenata sung by four of the
soloists on the last night of carnival 1742, perhaps to try to compensate for the
season’s losses, or as a benefit concert.)59
Could the financial summary of the San Giovanni Grisostomo’s operas
from 1742 have come from Sanvitale? Since he was involved in at least one of
these operas (Merope), he might have known about the loss. Perhaps Du Tillot
used this information as a resource in his planning when he began to produce
opera in Parma, his first experience with an Italian public theater. Sanvitale
might have represented a key resource for Du Tillot in this regard. If the docu-
ment did stem from Sanvitale, perhaps it had an even more direct effect on the
later stages of Parma’s reform: the knowledge of the financial loss could have
played a role in his own omission of the traditionally costly elements from Enea
e Lavinia when he adapted the French original later on.
Sanvitale worked for the Teatro San Giovanni Grisostomo again four years
later, revising Matteo Noris’s libretto for Tito Manlio, which was set to music by
Jommelli in 1746.60 Although no printed component of the libretto indicates
Sanvitale’s involvement, a manuscript addition made on one copy reveals it:
an annotation on the cover reads, in part, “Il sgr. Co. Sanvitali ne ha variato
i recitativi.”61 Sanvitale’s possible knowledge of Venetian theatrical finances,
and certain involvement in revision of Venetian theatrical poetry, then, merit
further exploration. Both activities were ones that would inform his experi-
ence in Parma years later, when he wrote the libretto for Traetta’s final reform
opera and took over the management of Parma’s theaters. As a theatrical poet
steeped in classical Arcadian tradition, it follows that Sanvitale’s adaptation of
a French libretto would fall along conventional dramaturgical lines. Yet he was
no stranger to stylistic innovation, becoming familiar with it prior to Parma’s
first reform opera, as the evidence from Venice suggests.
the Parma court had charged the French ambassador to procure a copy of the
statutes.66 A copy was produced, and a few months later, Parma drew up a simi-
lar document, dated 6 April 1761, that resembles Turin’s but reflects the needs
of the Teatro Ducale.67 On that date the Nobile Società dei Cavalieri di Parma
started functioning under Sanvitale’s direction. That Parma sought to model
itself after Turin’s Teatro Regio demonstrates its continued efforts to be seen as
a high-quality theater with international visibility. The shift to a different orga-
nizational structure, one with individuals contributing toward a common bud-
get for production, paralleled the return to less experimental forms of Italian
opera in Parma. Further attesting to contact between the two cities’ theatrical
activities is a manuscript copy, made in 1765, of two original Turinese librettos
preserved in the Sanvitale family’s archival collection.68 One of these is Enea nel
Lazio, set by Traetta for Turin in 1760, an innovative work with entr’acte dances
linked to the opera’s plot, and which featured Parma’s leading singers.69 Its
appearance in Parma serves as yet another link between the two cities’ French-
inspired activities.
Traetta Departs
After Philippe de Bourbon’s death, the new sovereign, Don Ferdinando, dis-
missed Traetta in 1764, along with many other court musicians. Giuseppe Colla
became maestro di musica in 1766 and Mangot stayed on until the end of his
life, in 1791.70 Parma maintained its interest in French-style stage spectacle
through to the end of the century; it resurfaced periodically in works such as Le
feste d’Apollo (1769), with music by Gluck, given in celebration of the wedding
of Ferdinando and Archduchess Maria Amalia, and Giuseppe Sarti’s dramma
serio Alessandro e Timoteo (1782).71 Le feste d’Imeneo and Enea e Lavinia, then,
rather than being viewed as anomalies among Traetta’s four reform operas,
might rather be seen as ushering in a new era of theatrical entertainment in
Parma, one marked by alternatives to the adaptations of Ramellian tragédies
lyrique that had drawn so much attention in 1759 and 1760.72 Adopting a wide
view of Parmesan musical theater reveals Traetta’s last two operas for Parma to
represent future directions, ones that saw the broadening of the possibilities
for French model adaptation.
Reform Revisited
Parma has long been recognized as a city where Italian and French oper-
atic traditions encountered each other, a fruitful comingling that nourished
Traetta’s reform operas for the city’s Teatro Ducale. As the foregoing discus-
sion demonstrates, the works represented many things. They symbolized the
merging of two powerful dynasties, the Habsburgs and Bourbons, represent-
ing a cultural transfer with wide-reaching political and social implications,
as well as musical and theatrical ones. They also represented adaptation:
Traetta’s operas are the culmination, and not the inception, of a process of
adaptation that can only be fully understood by appreciating how that process
worked in the French entertainments that preceded them in Parma. Taken
together, the French works and Traetta’s Italian, French-inspired operas,
show how malleable, variable, and creative the adaptation process could
be. Parma’s mid-eighteenth-century theater demonstrated this reality more
clearly and prominently than any other contemporary opera theater in all of
Europe was able to do, even others where French influence was strong and
where there was interest in and support for presenting French and French-
inspired cultural products. The adaptation process began not with Traetta’s
famous Ippolito ed Aricia, but much earlier, with the very first French work
the troupe gave for the public, soon after the performers arrived in Parma:
Zelindor, re’ dei silfi, with its additional aria that showcased Parma’s new, lead-
ing haute-contre. With Gl’Incà del Perù, the adaptation grew into something
much more significant, as the short entrée from Rameau’s Les Indes galantes
became extended, encompassing new pieces and ensembles, and concluding
with an added divertissement that showcased different performers, dancers as
Spanish soldiers, in an addition and expansion of the work that unmistak-
ably represented Spanish Bourbon power. Castore e Polluce represents a more
subtle but no less important type of adaptation, as Castor’s final aria became
longer, more expressive, and weightier, developing into a full-blown choral
number that again showcased the strength of Parma’s new performing forces.
Anacreonte revealed to Parma audiences how one genre could be transformed
the very concept itself. But adopting a more flexible view of reform allows us
to make other, more productive, connections: Arguably, for instance, Parma’s
French entertainments represent operatic reform as well and as thoroughly
as do Traetta’s operas; they were born of the same spirit of stylistic blending
and generic intermingling and inspired by the same local circumstances and
priorities. Such an assessment can, in turn, help us understand these works as
reinterpretations for new audiences.
The works done in Parma—Traetta’s operas and the French entertainments
before them—call on us to expand our list of possible ways of considering
reform. They force us to revisit old questions about compositional intent: put
simply, does the creative team behind a new work or a revised one have to
intend that a work be an act of reform in order for it to be one? If there is no
evidence that a composer intended an opera to reform anything, can it still be
called reform? Perhaps a productive way to consider the full picture of what
happened in Parma is in terms of reform by association—the works and their
adaptations are yet another “vision of reform” of which there were many at
midcentury, spanning all genres of humanistic discourse, and ranging from
those that confronted moral issues, to those that wrangled with aesthetic ones,
to those that addressed purely structural concerns.4 Some of these were made
explicit by their commentators and creators, and some were not. In short, try-
ing to understand reform helps us understand how we create history—it speaks
on a basic level to how we seek to comprehend and describe cultural processes
and their development in a historical context.
Viewing the whole of Parma’s musical theater demonstrates how limiting
our categories can be if we let them, and how important it is to reexamine
them within a context as broad and deep as it is possible to achieve. Our
very understanding of genre, and how we construct it, is called into ques-
tion when we can examine the particulars of certain exemplars of one. Our
understanding of trends that shaped the ways people thought and created
can change when we examine new representatives of those trends. The fore-
going study reminds us anew to examine our subject in every possible light
in order to fully understand it. Constructing a nuanced image of musical the-
ater in Parma, in all its aspects, allows us to get beyond the old questions of
whether or not opera was reformed there, whether or not Traetta’s operas
should be called reform operas,5 and how these works measure up to others
like them. Such questions have hindered an appreciation of how illustrative
Traetta’s works truly are of the rich, variegated, and unique set of circum-
stances that played a role in their creation.
By 10 March 1759 all French troupe members have departed from Parma
28 March 1759 Gabrielli arrives in Parma from Vienna (under contract
there since 1755)
April 1759 Louise Élisabeth de Bourbon is notified that the
marriage of Isabella and Joseph had been decided in
Vienna
1 May 1759 Traetta is appointed maestro di cappella. Holds post until
1 April 1766
May–July 1759 Ippolito ed Aricia in Parma. The opera opened on 2 May;
the length of the run is unknown although the season
ended on 3 July
3 July 1759 Gabrielli named virtuosa da camera at Parma
29 July 1759 Vienna makes request to Paris for Isabella to marry
Joseph (after the marriage had been decided upon in
Vienna, end April; see above)
6 December 1759 Louise Élisabeth de Bourbon dies (suppression of
entertainments in Parma)
Carnival 1759 Enea nel Lazio (Traetta) at Turin’s Teatro Regio with
(January 1760) Gabrielli as prima donna
14 May–30 June 1760 I tindaridi in Parma
8 June 1760 Gabrielli promoted to prima virtuosa da camera at Parma
Summer 1760 Parma’s Teatro Ducale renovated
September 1760 Le feste d’Imeneo in Parma (Traetta); given for wedding
of Princess Isabella of Parma to Joseph II of Austria.
Gabrielli sings in Vienna in wedding operas
3 January 1761 Traetta’s Armida in Vienna with Gabrielli as prima
donna; birthday of Archduchess Isabella of Parma
Sometime before Parma writes to Nobile Società dei Cavalieri at Turin’s
22 February 1761 Teatro Regio for copy of organizational statutes
6 April 1761 Nobile Società dei Cavalieri di Parma starts functioning
under direction of Jacopo Antonio Sanvitale
1 May–29 June 1761 Enea e Lavinia in Parma (Traetta); Gabrielli sings prima
donna role; returned to Parma from Vienna 8 April
14. P. Russo, ed., I due mondi di Duni. In this volume, see especially P. Russo, “Duni
a Parma,” and Charlton, “Duni’s ‘Le retour.’” See also P. Russo, “Musica a
corte,” 161.
15. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre.
16. Heartz, “Traetta in Vienna”; Marchi, Parma e Vienna.
17. Vetro, Il teatro ducale, 212–14. The Parmesan chronicler Sgavetti, in an entry
in his diary of 3 May refers to the performance of “ieri sera” (last night); the
season ended on 3 July. Caterina Gabrielli, the prima donna, was absent from
the city for a short period during this time, singing in nearby Reggio.
18. Cyr, “Rameau e Traetta.”
19. Bloch, “Tommaso Traetta’s Reform.” The titles of a number of studies that
question the existence of reform signal their skepticism by the presence of the
mere word in scare quotes. Martinotti, “Traetta”; Minardi, “La presenza del
ballo”; M. Russo, Tommaso Traetta: I libretti della ‘riforma’ (hereafter I libretti).
20. Stanford University’s “Mapping the Republic of Letters” seeks to further our
understanding of Algarotti’s significance: http://republicofletters.stanford.
edu/casestudies/algarotti.html.
21. Heartz, “Traetta in Parma,” 277.
22. For example, the Parisian salons sponsored by Baron d’Holbach, which
included Diderot, Grimm, and visitors such as David Hume, started being held
in the early 1750s. Given Algarotti’s connections, it is entirely possible that
he came in contact with the d’Holbach circle and the radical ideas discussed
there (though he was mostly in Berlin during that time). And of course many
of the leading philosophes aligned themselves with the partisans of Italian music
during the querelle des bouffons, among them Grimm, d’Holbach, Rousseau,
d’Alembert, and Diderot. On this topic, see Furbank, Diderot, 104–7, among
other studies. Algarotti and the philosophes, d’Holbach especially, agreed on the
potential of La serva padrona’s natural expressive power; see Allanbrook, The
Secular Commedia, 8–11. On the importance of d’Holbach’s circle, see Blom, A
Wicked Company.
23. Heartz, in “Traetta in Parma,” 277–80, recounts the exchanges among
Algarotti, Frugoni, and Du Tillot.
24. Ibid., 279.
25. Ibid. “Algarotti continues by asserting his supervisory role at Parma: ‘Since
I published several years ago many thoughts on the subject, it was hoped I
would oversee the plan they proposed to follow. The Infante Dr. Filipe [sic]
had me invited, and I spent several days at the court of Parma.’”; “Algarotti
continued to be treated as an oracle at Parma,” and “began to propagandize”
Ippolito ed Aricia’s premiere (ibid.).
26. Grimm, Correspondance littéraire, 6:34–35, quoted in Heartz, “Orfeo ed Euridice,”
316–17. Grimm’s essay of 15 July 1764 brings together Algarotti, Traetta’s
operas for Parma, and Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice; Grimm references Algarotti’s
Saggio, stating that the synthesis of French and Italian opera styles for which
Algarotti advocated in it had been tried, without success, in Parma.
27. McClymonds, “Opera Reform in Italy.”
28. Bianconi, “Perché la storia dell’opera italiana?” 30, cited (without page num-
ber) in Minardi, “A Parma,” 80.
29. Massera, “L’incontro Traetta-Frugoni?”; Martinotti, “Traetta.”
30. Heartz, “Traetta in Parma”; Feldman, Opera and Sovereignty, ch. 3 (97–140);
Gallico, “I tindaridi”; P. Russo, “Un catalogo della musica”; P. Russo, “Enée et
Lavinie”; P. Russo, “Musica a corte”; Minardi, “‘Le projet est abandonné’”; Cyr,
“Rameau e Traetta”; Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas”; M. Russo, I libretti;
Vetro, Il teatro ducale.
31. G. Ferrari, “La compagnia.”
32. Chegai, L’esilio, 92, cited by Feldman, Opera and Sovereignty, 137.
33. Weiss, L’opera italiana nel ‘700, 158–70, in prefacing his discussion of Parma,
confronts these issues and offers a useful summary of views on midcentury
operatic reform, among them, Donald Jay Grout’s classic formulation of the
problem: “Certain writers in the past have tended to [claim that] Gluck, practi-
cally singlehanded, redeemed [Italian opera] through his so-called reforms—
the very word carrying with it an aura of moral uplift, implying that something
bad was replaced by something better. This point of view [is] a relic of the
evolutionary philosophy of history” (A Short History of Opera, 215).
34. This view aligns with Weiss’s assessment of Algarotti’s Saggio as reflecting the
aesthetic of a European elite, rather than an Italian one. Weiss, L’opera italiana
nel ‘700, 161.
35. According to Mozart, [an aria should] “fit a singer as perfectly as a well-made
suit of clothes” (1778). Anderson, The Letters of Mozart, 497.
Chapter One
1. For a recent study of Louise Élisabeth’s profound influence on French culture
and politics in Parma as well as a broad overview of its French artistic products
of various types see Malinverni, “Una duchessa francese a Parma.”
2. Malinverni, “Un miroir de France en Italie.”
3. For a study of life at Colorno, see Cirani, Musica e spettacolo a Colorno.
4. On Du Tillot, see Maddalena, “Il governo del ministro Du Tillot”; Maddalena,
Le regole del principe; Fedi, “L’Età dei Borbone.”
5. Biondi, La francia a Parma.
6. On Philippe de Bourbon’s contributions to Parma’s political and artistic life
as well as critical reception, see Malinverni, “Don Filippo”; see 70–71 for refer-
ence to opera and its role in the sovereign’s court. On Frugoni, Sanvitale, and
the flourishing of literary activity during the era under discussion, see Fedi
and Necchi, “Il primo Settecento,” and Fedi, “L’Età dei Borbone.” Further
on the “Athens of Italy,” and Parma during the Du Tillot years representing a
“philosophical and intellectual laboratory” for the working out of the complex
politics between France and Spain, and a “window” through which this process
could be viewed, see Maddalena, “Il governo del ministro Du Tillot,” 128 (ref-
erencing Venturi, La chiesa e la reppublica).
Parma,” 280, citing A. Equini, Frugoni, 2:100–101. See also Minardi, “‘Le projet
est abandonné,’” 30n17.
39. Butler, “Producing the Operatic Chorus.”
40. These totals drawn from G. Ferrari, “La compagnia,” 196. Phèdre et Hippolyte of
Pradon, and Phèdre of Racine. The titles of the French works in Parma’s archi-
val materials are often only partial, or are abbreviations, or are alternate ways
of referring to a work (L’acte du feu, for example, for Le feu from Les élémens, as
in my repertory table). It is possible that “Phèdre” was a short form of Phèdre et
Hippolyte.
41. Data drawn from G. Ferrari, “La compagnia,” 189 (with correction of 10
December to 8 December, “Spectacle francois”); Vetro, Il teatro ducale, 200,
204–5, 209.
42. Dates given here are drawn from documents in I-PAas (aforementioned French
repertory list and “Spectacle francois à Parme tra Colorno. En 1757 a 1758,”
Carte Moreau de Saint-Méry, bb. 24–26) and G. Ferrari, “La compagnia.”
43. Even at court theaters where French influence was strong and where French-
inspired Italian opera was produced, French operatic vocal music was rare
to nonexistent. Some of Rameau’s operatic music was also given in Dresden
(Zoroastre) and apparently also in Naples, according to DeCroix, in L’ami des
arts; see Cyr, “Rameau e Traetta,” De Croix quoted on 173: “On a souvent
exécuté des morceaux tirés des Opéras de Rameau sur les théâtres de Parme,
de Naples.” Places that sponsored French-inspired Italian opera, other than
Vienna, include Mannheim (later, Munich), Stuttgart, Ludwigsburg, and
Berlin, as mentioned earlier.
44. The arrival of an haute-contre in Vienna occasioned performances of ariettes; see
Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 399–402.
45. P. Russo, “Musica a corte” (Mangot is discussed on 163 and 168).
46. I-PAas, Teatri busta 1, letter from Mangot to Du Tillot, Vienna, 24 June 1762.
47. Vallas, ‘Jacques-Simon Mangot”; Bédarida, ‘Jacques-Simon Mangot a Parme’;
Vallas, Un siècle de musique.
48. Vallas, Un siècle de musique, 246.
49. On Traetta’s use of Rameau’s music, see Cyr, “Rameau e Traetta,” 173–82;
Heartz, “Traetta in Parma,” 271–92; Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas.”
50. The printed libretto (copy held at F-LYm) bears his name on its cover page; he
performed the role of Mars. The music is not extant.
51. He might have come to Parma as early as 1754, leading a French troupe of his
own, although no evidence documents any related activities. P. Russo, “Duni a
Parma,” 103. As Russo states, the reference by Gozzi to Mangot’s presence in
Parma in this year (Gozzi, “Storia di Parma,” II, 311) might be incorrect.
52. I-PAas, Cart. borb. francia, busta 48 (1756–57), letter to Du Tillot from Mauro
in Lyon, 23 April 1756. The letter states that Mangot was to depart Lyon on
26 April: “J’ay recu la Lettre que vous m’avez fait l’honneur on m’ecrire le 10.
[??] j’ay remis celle y incluse a Mr. Mangot a qui j’ay encore payé 200. Il partira
le 26 dit” (I received the letter that you paid me the honor of writing to me on
the 10th. I gave the one which was enclosed to Mr. Mangot to whom I had paid
another 200. He will depart on the 26th). A letter of reply from Colorno dated
30 April confirms the date of departure and a payment of 200 livres. Related
letters in this busta provide other details about his journey; he and his family
traveled by way of Turin.
53. Copy of Mangot’s appointment letter, 13 March 1756. I-PAas, Carte Moreau de
Saint-Méry, busta 26, “Teatri.” Also cited in P. Russo, “Musica a corte,” 163.
54. Receipt for music copying done in Lyon by order of Mangot, March 1756
(signed by Mangot 5 September 1756 in Colorno). I-PAas, Comp. borb. fili cor-
renti, busta 931a (1756). On this point, see P. Russo, “Duni a Parma,” 108.
55. Entry for Mangot’s appointment as director of Chamber Music, 22 January
1757. I-PAas, Decreti e rescritti, vol. 6 (1756–57), p. 12. Refers to the previous 1
May [1756], when he began receiving a stipend.
56. Receipt for travel expenses to Reggio, Jean Jacobi and Mangot, 18 May 1756.
I-PAas, Comp. borb., fili correnti, busta 931b (1756). Jacobi frequently traveled
to Reggio to recruit performers; although not clarified in the documents, this
was likely the reason for their journey.
57. Receipt for music copying signed by Mangot, 20 July 1756. I-PAas, Comp.
borb., fili correnti, busta 931a (1756).
58. French repertory list, I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1.
59. Contract for a bass singer, signed by Mangot, 25 December 1756. I-PAas,
Teatri, busta 1. This contract is one of several to singers with this date and with
Mangot’s signature.
60. Letter from Delisle to Du Tillot, 13 April 1758. I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1; cited (as
located in “Teatri, L. 33,” now erroneous) in Bouissou, ‘À la cour de Parme,”
228–43 (letter quoted on 233).
61. Castor et Pollux enjoyed a long tradition in Parma; it was given at least seven-
teen times between 1756 and 1759. Information on productions prior to 1759
beyond dates of performance is not extant. The comments here pertain to
that of 1759.
62. Charlton, Opera in the Age of Rousseau, 312.
63. “Second kings, wise men, and noble fathers.” I-Tac, Carte sciolte 6197, letter
from Delisle to Turin’s theatrical administration, 9 August 1754. Raisonneur sig-
nifies a fixed character type in French comedy, like soubrette or premier amoureux.
64. “Plays the roles of confidant and lovers in opéra-comique, good musician and
having a small voice, young, and a very nice figure.” I-Tac, Carte sciolte 6197,
letter to Turin’s theatrical administration (unsigned, undated; likely by
D’Aiguillon).
65. G. Ferrari also mentions only these performances. “La compagnia,” 201.
66. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 82.
67. Duni overlapped with Mangot, remaining in Parma until late 1756 or early
1757 (P. Russo, “Duni a Parma,” 115). As he was another composer and mem-
ber of the production staff with significant involvement with French operas
there, the possibility of his intervention cannot be ruled out, especially since
we do not know when preparation of the adapted portions began. However,
Mangot’s much closer links with the French opera repertory render him the
more convincing one of the two musicians to have composed the new music
necessary for the adaptations.
68. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 69, 76 (for 1761), 79 (for 1763/64).
69. “We have a woman, Eydoux . . . she is not young, nor pretty, I admit, but she
has the most beautiful voice and lots of talent.” Favart, Mémoires, 2:264–65,
cited in Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 399.
70. I-PAas, Carte Moreau de Saint-Méry, “Spectacle francois,” page titled “Mars
Avril et May 1758 appointements d’acteurs.” He earned the high fee of 800 lire
per month, the same as Guigues.
71. Bédarida, Parma e la francia, 2:453.
72. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 202, 481.
73. Ibid., 73, 74, 79, 421, 484. It is certain he was temporarily absent from Vienna
in early January 1758 (215n, and 211).
74. Ibid., 80.
75. Cyr, “Rameau e Traetta,” 174; P. Russo, “Musica a corte,” 164. The source
can be consulted at http://www.bibliotecamusica.it/cmbm/scripts/gaspari/
scheda.asp?id=9724/.
76. I-Bc, H. 78.62, 4 February 1761, letter from Mangot to Martini.
77. Mangot and Martini corresponded frequently and other letters are held at
I-Bc. The correspondence is discussed in Jacobi and Weiss, “Rameau and Padre
Martini.” The letter I discuss here is the only one of those extant that pro-
vides any commentary on Parma’s French music; it is mentioned only briefly in
Jacobi and Weiss’s study.
78. I-Bc, H. 78.62, 4 February 1761, letter from Mangot to Martini.
79. I-Bc, H. 78.59, 10 September 1760, letter from Mangot to Martini.
80. “Nous n’avons point chanté autre chose que les operas les meilleurs qui sont
aujourdhui connu.”
Chapter Two
1. G. Ferrari, Mecarelli, and Melloni, “L’organizzazione teatrale parmense.”
2. I-PAas, Du Tillot’s decree on behavior required by the French troupe. I-PAas,
Comp. borb., fili correnti, busta 931b, undated, printed. “Ordre, qui doit etre
observé au Spectacle de S. A. R.”
3. Butler, “Gluck’s Alceste in Bologna.”
4. I-PAas, Carte Du Tillot, busta 88. Unsigned, undated. I have identified Du
Tillot’s handwriting on the basis of other documents that he penned and
signed. This document matches all others that bear his hand.
5. I-PAas, Comp. borb., fili correnti, busta 932, 31 August 1759, “Etat de depense
regardant le spectacle pour Compte de la Cour, causé e dans le Mois de Juillet,”
written and signed by Pio Quazza. Other documents in this busta and else-
where include comments in French, in his hand and bearing his signature. He
wrote to Du Tillot in French on numerous occasions (letter of 28 September
1762 in I-PAas, Teatri busta 1 is one example).
6. For the eighteenth century, these theaters, in fact, are few. Chief among them
are Vienna’s Burgtheater, Naples’s Teatro San Carlo, and Turin’s Teatro Regio.
See Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre; DelDonna, “Production Practices”;
Butler, Operatic Reform.
7. “Quazza, Pio,” in Vetro, Dizionario. Vetro reports that in a document from 1749
(in I-PAas, Comp. borb., busta 699) that clarifies Quazza’s role as magazziniere
(warehouse worker), he is identified as “da Colorno.”
8. I-PAas, Feudi e Comunità, busta 29: “Nota del Bisognevole, che manca per
renderer proveduto il Reggio Teatro di Colorno, conforme a quello che vi
si ritrova secondo l’Inventario prodotto.” Signed by Pio Quazza, Colorno 16
Xbre 1752. To my knowlege this is the earliest extant document pertaining
to the theater that bears his signature. The document cited by Vetro above
could link him to the theater, if as magazziniere he worked in the theatrical
warehouse, but details are unavailable.
9. A series of fifteen letters from Quazza to Du Tillot spanning May 1762 to June
1763 can be found in I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1, for example.
10. “Il compimento della Deliziosa conforme alli due Archi che vi sono in quattro
pezzi vecchi”; “un Trono per le Rappresentazioni serie”; “sedile per il cembalo;
sedile per il suonatore di Violoncello.”
11. I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1, Distribuzione dei palchi del carnevale 1754. The labels
are in Quazza’s hand.
12. I-PAas, Carte Moreau de Saint-Méry, buste 24–26, “Spectacle francois a Parme
e a Colorno En 1757 et 1758,” cover page: “Pio Quazza etoit un Directeur pour
le prince ayant 3 mille livres d’appointemens pour an.”
13. Butler, “Producing the Operatic Chorus.”
14. I-PAas, Comp. borb. fili correnti, busta 931a, Conto ristretto del Scenario
dell’Opera della prossima scaduta primavera del cor.te anno 1760. “Per
rinovare gli Abiti delle comparse come dall’Avviso del Srg. Pio Quazza.”
15. Butler, Operatic Reform, 14. The request from Parma appears in the Turin
documents twice. I-Tac, Ordinati, vol. 5, 88 (2 February 1761) and 91–96 (22
February 1761). See also Bouquet, Il teatro di corte, 163–64, where the date of
Parma’s request is not given, and 463–65, in which a copy of the statutes sent
to Parma is transcribed. Theatrical administrations of Lucca and Naples also
requested copies of Turin’s statutes.
16. I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1, Piano de palchi, 1779; Censimento per la città,
Descrizione di tutta la popolazione della città di Parma, 1765, parte seconda,
613; Stati delle anime, 1787; Censimenti parrocchiali, 1787, Zona Santo
Spirito, Case reali.
17. Giambattista Crespi succeeded him as Ispettore dei Teatri in 1798. I-PAas,
Ruoli, vol. 41; Indice dei morti del vescovado di Parma, L’atto di morte della
parrochia di Santo Spirito, 1784–1806, 17 Gennaio 1802, confirms the date of
his death.
18. Butler, “Italian Opera in the Eighteenth Century.”
19. The summary of responsibilities here is drawn from the content of the theatri-
cal account books from 1756 to 1759, I-PAas, Comp. farn. e borb, fili correnti,
busta 931a (1756) through 933 (1760–66) and from ledgers documenting
court appointments (Ruoli di provvigionati) as specified below.
Chapter Three
1. G. Ferrari, “La compagnia,” 199, reports that Zelindor was given on 19 and 24
November, and 6 and 8 December 1757.
2. G. Ferrari, “La compagnia,” 193.
3. Locke, Music and the Exotic, 235–38; Locke, Musical Exoticism, 97–105, on
Les Indes galantes. On exoticism in eighteenth-century opera, see also Ward,
Pagodas in Play.
4. In the following discussion I benefited greatly from the unpublished tesi di
laurea by Clelia Risi (held at I-PAas, hereafter Risi, Sgavetti’s Cronaca), which
Revilla, in connection with political events in Parma during the 1770s, see
Bédarida, Parma e la francia, 1:72, 74, 142, 168.
14. The revised version of Castor et Pollux (1754) received a total of 191 perfor-
mances in France to 1785, most of them after the composer’s death; Charlton,
Opera in the Age of Rousseau, 83. On the opera, see also 84–85 and on the “vir-
tuoso ariette” into the context of which “Tendre amour” discussed below can be
inserted, see 181–86.
15. Parma libretto, 102.
16. The 1754 score is at F-Pn, cons [x.857. Bouissou, Denécheau, and Herlin,
Catalogue Thématique, 244, give the sources for this aria.
17. The 1757 score is at F-Po, A-139 (c). The score’s cover page carries the date of
1753. A note added to the final page by the copyist (Regrate or Regrafe) clari-
fies the date as 1757. I thank Graham Sadler for suggesting this possibility for
the reason for the score’s existence to me.
18. The 1757 libretto is at F-Po, LIV 18 [1485. The 1757 libretto and score cor-
respond in content but for a few, minor changes in certain lines of text. The
libretto lacking singers’ names resembles one prepared for a similarly planned
but unexecuted performance of Zoroastre. Again I am grateful to Graham
Sadler for pointing this out to me.
19. Sadler, “Castor et Pollux,” NGO 1:765.
20. The measures are unnumbered in the sources for these examples. In exam-
ple 3.1a, I assigned measure numbers beginning from the first measure of
the piece, p. 156, first measure, third system (at label “Ariette gracieuse”). In
example 3.1b, I assigned measure numbers beginning from the first measure
of the piece, on page 102r. The piece concludes on 112v.
21. French opera singers of the previous generation—singers in Lully’s Parisian
troupe—influenced their roles as well, specific features of their ability to por-
tray character being highlighted in those roles’ composition. See Banducci,
“Acteurs and Actrices as Muses.” The adaptation of the role of Castor for Le
Noble thus represents continuity within a distinguished French tradition.
22. A similar generic crossover occurred in Vienna shortly thereafter: Gasparo
Angiolini’s 1762 Citera assediate, was created from the score and plot (with
some changes) of Gluck’s 1759 opéra-comique Cythère assiégée. I thank Bruce
Brown for pointing out this parallel to me.
23. Sadler, “Les surprises de l’Amour,” NGO 4:606.
24. Ibid., 21.
25. Anacreonte, note 1, p. viii: “Le sorprese dell’Amore, in un Atto, di M.r Bernard,
Autore altresì della Poesia di Castore, e Polluce” (Le sorprese dell’Amore in a one
act, by Mr. Bernard, also the author of the poetry of Castore e Polluce).
26. I thank Rebecca Harris-Warrick for suggesting this possibility to me.
27. Sadler, “A Group of Borrowings,” in press. I am sincerely grateful to the author
for sharing his forthcoming article with me.
28. Talbot, “‘Le plus habile compositeur,’” in press (cited in Sadler, “A Group of
Borrowings,” in press.).
29. The sommeil’s beginning resembles the opening of the second movement
of L’autunno, the third concerto of Le quattro stagioni, which Vivaldi labeled
Chapter Four
1. I-PAas, Cart. borb. francia, busta 48, letter from Bonnet from Paris to Du
Tillot, 5 June 1758. Bonnet refers to an earlier letter, which Du Tillot said he
had not received, in which Bonnet had proposed two new female singers for
the troupe, a proposal that he says was now meaningless since,“j’entend dire
ce verifie que la commedie ne durera pas encore Longtems” (I can verify that
the troupe will not last much longer).
2. The chorus appears in act 2, scene 9 (Parma libretto, 49–50); the music is not
extant.
3. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 18–19.
4. Butler, “Producing the Operatic Chorus.”
5. The opera Soliman referenced earlier, performed by the troupe in 1757, might
also have played a role.
6. Ferrero, “Le ricerche archeologiche,” 65–72.
7. Algarotti, Opere, 13:62–63, letter dated 23 March 1756, which concludes, “Voi
meritavate di nascere in Atene ne’ suoi giorni felici.” Quoted and translated in
Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 21.
8. Vetro, Il teatro ducale, 209, citing Sgavetti.
9. I-PAas, Cart. borb. francia, busta 48, letters from Bonnet 29 August to 12
September 1758, explaining the shipment of scores for Titon et l’Aurora and
Castor et Pollux “in two or three shipments.”
10. Bongiovanni, “Gennaro Magri,” 34; Hansell, “Theatrical Ballet,” 202.
11. Bongiovanni, “Gennaro Magri,” 34.
12. Journal étranger, August 1761, pp. 121–22. Quoted in Loomis, “Tommaso
Traetta’s Operas,” 364, whose translation I have adapted.
13. Bongiovanni, “Gennaro Magri,” 37, citing Croce, I teatri di Napoli, 750: letter
from Florentine prior Viviani, 11 October 1761, “In carattere serio M. Pietro
Alnardi . . . per le donne la celebre Mimì . . .” Archivio di Stato, Naples, politi-
cal office, secretariat of the royal house, papers of the administration of the
theaters (1743–92), fasc. 13.
14. Feldman devotes a chapter to Ippolito ed Aricia, viewing aspects of its music and
drama from contemporary and modern perspectives (Opera and Sovereignty, ch.
3, 97–140).
15. Traetta, Ippolito ed Aricia (sound recording).
16. L’Année littéraire, 1759, vol. 4, pp. 115–17. The focus of the author’s comment is
Traetta, who is described as “un jeune Napolitain . . . qui a sçû mêler aux beau-
tés qu’il a tirées de son proper genie, les endroits le plus admirés de l’Opéra
de M. Rameau” (A young Neapolitan . . . who is able to blend beauties drawn
from his own genius with the most admired passages of Rameau’s opera).
Quoted and cited in Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 75.
17. Heartz, “Traetta in Parma,” 289.
18. Journal des Journaux (Mannheim, 1760), 1:701ff, quoted in Riedlbauer, Die
Opern, 24. “Pour ce qui regarde l’Opéra d’Hyppolite & d’Aricie je proteste sur
mon honneur que je n’ai pas meme vu sa Musique” (As for the opera Hippolyte
et Aricie I protest on my honor I have never seen his music). A lengthier excerpt
from the letter is quoted and cited by Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,”
19–20.
19. Cyr (“Rameau e Traetta,” 181) demonstrated that Traetta’s style reflects
Rameau’s influence, a view adopted by Loomis.
20. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 20, mentions the possibility that “a sub-
ordinate [might] have overseen the incorporation of dances by Rameau into
the Parma operas.”
21. Garland reprint of Berlin score for Ippolito ed Aricia (hereafter “Garland repr.”),
63–64.
22. Garland repr. 44–45, 136–37, 233–34. Loomis states that the danced arrange-
ment of “Nettun sull’onde” appears in act 3, scene 6, although it actually
appears in scene 9 (“Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 371).
23. Garland repr., 44–45.
24. Ibid., 95–98.
25. Ibid., 110, 116–17.
26. Ibid., 136–37.
27. Parma libretto for I tindaridi, xiv, “Atto Quarto. / Primo Divertimento. / Danze
di deità infernali. / Eseguite per tutti i suddetti Signori in Corpo. / Danza di
Tisifone una delle furie. / La Signora Mimì Favier, / E tutti i suddetti Signori
in Corpo.”
28. These dances in this sequence appear in the Garland reprint on 229, 233–34,
234, 235, and 235–36.
29. Harris Warrick, “Ballet, Pantomime, and the Sung Word.”
30. Ibid., 33–36.
31. Ibid., 33. The types are discussed with examples on 33–37.
32. Emphasis on spectacle is a recurring theme in the literature on the Parma
operas, although because of the lack of surviving iconography connected with
the productions, few studies attempt to re-create or even describe it. In her
analysis of Ippolito ed Aricia, Feldman offers a welcome commentary on how
some of this opera’s spectacle might have appeared to audiences as well as
color plates consisting of imaginative reconstructions. The lead female danc-
ers could have been costumed in a manner similar to Feldman’s choral dancer
in Plate 4 (opposite p. 117). On the ends of acts 1 and 5, including an overview
of the danced and sung components as well as visual spectacle and some of the
elements of its costumes for the singers, see 132 (on act 1) and 129–30, esp.
note 63 (on act 5).
33. Sadler, “Hippolyte et Aricie,” NGO.
34. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 368.
35. Apart from minor variants in spelling, some minor cuts in the recitative text
(act 2, scene 4) and one difference in the numbering of scenes (in the 1754
act 4, scene 3 begins at the emergence of the monsters from the cavern, while
no scene break occurs in this spot in the 1758 Parma libretto), the content of
the librettos is equivalent.
36. Score for I tindaridi, A-Wn 17859 (hereafter “Vienna score”). In three vols.
(vol. 1, act 1; vol. 2, acts 2 and 3; vol 3, acts 4 and 5.) Act 1 divertissement,
132v–138v. The dances in the first divertissement are numbered; divertissement
labeled “Ballo” in score. Rameau’s air trés pointé from Castor et Pollux labeled
“I.”
37. As established in chapter 3, Mangot worked from the 1754 revision of Castor et
Pollux to mount Parma’s productions of this work. The minuet had migrated
and changed keys from the 1737 original to the 1754 revision; in 1737 it
appeared in D major in the Prologue, while in 1754 it appeared in E major in
act 4’s second divertissement (Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 370). I tin-
daridi represents a third migration and key change for this well-traveled dance.
38. Vienna score, vol. 2, minuet and gavotte, 111r–114r. “Fine dell’Atto Terzo,”
116r. The Vienna score reflects revisions of act 2, scene 6. The end of act 2 in
the score consists almost entirely of dances; much of the solo vocal text in the
libretto does not appear in this score.
39. Sadler acknowledges Michael Talbot’s suggestion to him in this regard (“A
Group of Borrowings,” in press).
40. This divertissement consists of a number of other dances (Vienna score, vol.
3, 44v–55v.). The dance labeled “ballo,” Rameau’s air with the marking of
“grazioso,” follows the “canzonetta d’un ombra felice” (which is preceded by a
minuet). The libretto’s second “coro di ombre felici” and Castor’s preceding
recitiative were apparently cut. The divertissement thus consists of a short dance
scored for violins and horns and labeled “ballo”; the libretto’s first “coro di
ombre felici” (“Ombra amabile”); a “ballo” in triple meter; a minuet; the can-
zonetta (“Amor qui regna”); and several dances, commencing with Rameau’s
“grazioso” (labeled “ballo”) played by strings; a longer dance in 2/4 to which
oboes and horns are added; and the two passepieds (labeled “paspien”), which
are followed by a spirit’s short recitative announcing the group’s departure.
41. I-PAas, Teatri, busta 1, “Copia del Progetto in Tempo della Fiera in Piacenza di
quest’anno 1751.”
42. “What was attempted in Parma imposed a financial burden more appropriate
to a kingdom than to a tiny duchy, which is one reason Du Tillot had to give up
this theatrical innovation a few years after so auspicious a beginning.” Heartz,
“Traetta in Parma,” 290. Heartz is referring here specifically to the French-
inspired Italian operas.
43. Algarotti, Opere, 9:226–32, letter dated 15 October 1752, quoted in Minardi,
“‘Le projet est abandonné,’” 27; cited by Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,”
22.
44. Feldman, Opera and Sovereignty, 135.
Chapter Five
1. Minardi, “‘Le projet est abandonné,’” 31; M. Russo, I libretti, xx, follows
Minardi.
2. This view, which equates Traetta’s four operas for Parma on French models
with reform, reflects most of the other scholarship on the issue.
3. Bédarida, “Jacques-Simon a Parme,” 3–8: “ingrandì la sala, trasformò tutte le
machine e adattò le scene alle necessità delle opere a ‘grand spectacle,’ con-
formemente ai gusti del Du Tillot.” Cited by Cirani, Musica e spettacolo a Colorno,
55.
4. Frugoni explained this in verse, in his Epistola, one of the texts commemorat-
ing the wedding. See Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 122, who notes
that these effects had already been features of Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi;
perhaps they were done on a smaller scale in these operas, or not as well, since
Frugoni says in the same Epistola (xiii–xiv) that the whole stage was renovated
both above and below, implying a thorough restructuring.
5. P. Russo discusses the opera in “Un catalogo della musica,” and includes a
table detailing the libretto’s descriptions of the machines and the effects
they achieved (275–82). Also on this work, see Hortschansky, “Feste teatrali a
Parma.”
6. The printed score (1732) carries the title Le triomphe des sens, while the printed
libretto (1732) is titled Le ballet des sens.
7. Printed librettos for the Lyonnaise productions in both years are extant.
8. See, for example, Mecarelli, Le feste d’Apollo, 45 (cited by M. Russo, I libretti,
xxxiii).
9. P. Russo, “Un catalogo della musica,” 260: The libretto for the work is “un vero
rifacimento che dagli esemplari d’oltralpe prende solo lo spunto iniziale per
poi riconcepirlo profondamente” (A true re-creation that takes only the initial
impetus from the models from beyond the Alps and then thoroughly recon-
ceptualizes it).
10. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 140, observes the similarity in the adap-
tation process among the “Iride” act, Ippolito ed Aricia, and I tindaridi, though
limits his discussion to textual issues.
11. Frugoni’s libretto and its relation to Roy’s act drew commentary in the
Journal étranger, November 1760, 182, “Qu’on n’imagine pas que ce soit un
reproche que nous voulons faire à l’Auteur; lui-même avoue son larcin, dans
l’Avertissement qui est à la tête de cet Ouvrage” (We must not imagine that we
should reproach this author; he himself admits to his theft in the preface that
opens the work) and L’Année littéraire, 1760, 6:351. Cited in Loomis, “Tommaso
Traetta’s Operas,” 139, 140.
12. Russo, “Un catalogo della musica,” 261, citing Minardi, “La presenza del
ballo,” 117.
13. Le feste d’Imeneo, 22: “Lieta sinfonia, mentre Iride discende sopra l’arco da
lei descritto, rompendosi intorno ad esso in leggiadre guise le nubi al suo
apparire.”
14. Le feste d’Imeneo, 31: “Lieta sinfonia, mentre al cenno d’Amore fra lucide nubi
discende un pomposo padiglione, con Amoretti intorno volanti, dai quali ven-
gono alzate l’ali del detto padiglione che chiuso viene a posarsi sulla scena. Si
veggono in esso tre nobli seggi, sopra i quali vanno a collocarsi Amore, Iride, e
Zeffiro mentre si canta, e si danza dai Cori.”
15. In foregrounding this act in their wedding opera, Parma contributed a new
work to a well-established tradition of Zephyr and Flora pieces, one to which
their earlier production of Rebel and Francœur’s Zélindor, roi des silphes also
belonged; Brown, “Zéphire et Flore.”
16. The presence of this piece in Le feste d’Imeneo, first noted by Mary Cyr (“Rameau
e Traetta,” 181), is the only music by Rameau that has thus far been identified
in the work. Cyr does not give its placement in the action of Les fêtes d’Hébé,
although Loomis reports that it appears in the prologue without mentioning
a scene number (Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 142). According to
Minardi, it is found in “scena quinta della prima entrée” (“scene five of the
first entrée”). Minardi, “La presenza del ballo,” 118; cited by P. Russo as in I, 5,
“Un catalogo della musica,” 265n19.). The opera’s first entrée is “La Poësie” and
there is no evidence that the air for Zéphire occurs there; perhaps Minardi
meant to indicate the prologue as the opera’s “prima entrée.” I am relying on
the Paris libretto and score from 1739 (there was a revision, dated ca. 1744,
which I have not been able to consult, Bouissou/Herlin, Catalogue théma-
tique, 3:498–500). Although the 1739 score does not indicate a scene change
between scenes 4 and 5, scene 5 in the libretto (13) opens with “Zephire [sic],
après avoir voltigé autour des Graces . . .” indicating a dance, which appears in
the appropriate spot in the 1739 score, where it is labeled with its title (26–27),
and occurs between the ariette that ends scene 4, “Vole, Zéphire,” and the petit
air that opens scene 5, “Volons sur les bords de la Seine.” The 1749 libretto
from Lyon (reflecting the production Mangot directed) corresponds to the
1739 Parisian sources in the placement of the dance, in the prologue’s scene 5
(12).
17. Score in A-Wn 17863. 3 vols; p. 109v.
18. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas” (141) noted these added divertissements’
similarity in placement.
19. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 264–66; Heartz, “Traetta in Vienna,” 293–
312; Heartz, Music in European Capitals, 242; and other studies.
20. Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 265.
21. On Alcide al bivio and its political function, see Mellace, “Musica e politica,”
124–27, including the citation of related literature on 124.
22. Le feste d’Imeneo and Alcide al bivio appear in volumes 1 and 2, respectively (both
issued in 1762).
23. Il Trionfo d’Imeneo . . . (Parma: Filippo Carmignani, n.d.). On the little that is
known of this work, see Vetro, Il teatro ducale, 226–27.
24. On Giuseppe Pezzana, see Fedi, “L’Età dei Borbone,” 236–37.
25. Vetro (Il teatro ducale, 226) conjectures the piece might have been performed
at one of these venues.
26. The acts were reduced from five to three as demonstrated by a score from 1760
that M. Russo claims represents a Viennese production, held at the “Biblioteca
di Stato di Vienna” (presumably the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek; M.
Russo, I libretti, xlvi; lv); however, no libretto is extant and the work is absent
from the Burgtheater chronology in Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre,
487–93.
27. On Armida, see Heartz, “Traetta in Vienna,” 296–308.
28. Algarotti, Opere, (1794), 13:128–29, letter XXXII, 16 December 1760.
29. Score in A-Wn, 17861, 3 vols. (Hereafter, “Vienna score.”) The Vienna score is
titled “Armida, opera seria di Traetta, 1761.”
30. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 167, 178; M. Russo, I libretti, lviii–lix, cit-
ing Riedlbauer, Die Opern, 389.
31. Parma libretto for Enea e Lavinia, 52.
32. On signature arias see Poriss, Changing the Score; Williams Brown, “On the
Road”; and Butler, “From Guadagni’s Suitcase.”
33. M. Russo explains (I libretti, lix) that he compared the incipits of the arias in
Riedlbauer’s thematic catalog, and that the aria from Armida, “Respiri [sic]
già contento,” is found in Armida’s scene 11 (incipits found in Riedlbauer, Die
Opern, 343 and 389, Vienna and Parma, respectively). The libretto’s scene 11
(US-Wc copy) contains no aria with that text; the aria for Armida in that scene
begins with the line, “Torna sereno.”
34. Vienna score for Armida, part 2, 67v–75 r.
35. P-La, 46-VII-4a6 (hereafter the Parma score), vol. 3, 10r–15v. The P-La copy
is omitted in Riedlbauer’s list of sources for Enea e Lavinia (Riedlbauer, Die
Opern, 382).
36. Neither of the pieces preceding or following this aria in the Vienna score
includes annotations of the type described here.
37. Riedlbauer cites a score in I-Tn for Enea e Lavinia (382) and his incipit for
the aria (389) is in D major (not A major), marked Allegretto (not Allegro).
Perhaps the aria was transposed at a certain point, and if so, this source repre-
sents a fourth version of the piece.
38. The top pitch in her first aria in Ippolito ed Aricia, for example, “Prendi amor,”
is also c3, and this earlier aria is more ornate and lies higher in range than
“Respira omai contento.” On the Parma operas’ arias, see Loomis, “Tommaso
Traetta’s Operas,” ch. 7 (240–302). On Gabrielli’s arias in Ippolito ed Aricia,
especially the aria di bravura “Va dove Amor ti chiama,” which exceeds oth-
ers for her in the work in complexity, length, scoring, and other features, see
Feldman, Opera and Sovereignty, 124–29.
39. Loomis, “Tommaso Traetta’s Operas,” 190.
40. These two operas deal with different plot elements of Virgil’s Aeneid and thus
share the character of Aeneas. Gabrielli sang with different primi uomini por-
traying Enea in these productions, Gaetano Guadagni in Parma, and Antonio
Priori in Naples (Priori had sung with Gabrielli in Vienna, singing Artemidoro
in Armida).
41. On this work, see P. Russo, “Enée et Lavinie.”
42. A number of manuscript and printed dramatic works survive in the Sanvitale
family archive (at I-PAas) attesting to a lively interest in spoken and musical
theater spanning multiple generations.
43. M. Russo summarizes Sanvitale’s relationship with Frugoni and his influence on
Parma’s political, literary, and artistic life; see I libretti, xxi–xxv. On Sanvitale, see
also Fedi and Necchi, “Il primo Settecento,” and Fedi, “L’Età dei Borbone.”
44. Pezzana, Memorie, 178. Bédarida, Parma e la Francia, 1:193. Fedi, “L’Età dei
Borbone,” 225.
45. According to Pezzana, Sanvitale translated Castor et Pollux and it was his transla-
tion that appears in the printed libretto and was performed for the court on
6 December 1758. See Pezzana, Memorie, 184, Castore e Polluce, item XI in the
inventory of Sanvitale’s works, including the date of the court performance,
in reference to which Pezzana states, “Non è indicato il nome del traduttore,
ma fu realmente Jacopo-Antonio” (The name of the translator is not given but
it was actually Jacopo Antonio). This claim was adopted by Bédarida (Parma e
la francia 2:435, although he mistakenly gives the date as 6 September), and
repeated by M. Russo (I libretti, XLII). See also Fedi, “L’Età dei Borbone,”
225n10. It seems to be erroneous, however, since in a letter to Michele Enrico
Sagramoso of 19 December 1758, Frugoni claimed he had translated Castor et
Pollux together with Titon et l’Aurora: “I due poemi franzesi per musica da me
tradotti sono Polluce e Castore, Titone e l’Aurora. L’infante è mostrato piacere che
siano tradotti in versi italiani che uguaglino i franzesi” (The two French libret-
tos I translated are Polluce e Castore, Titone e l’Aurora. The sovereign was pleased
that that they were translated into Italian verses that matched the French).
Chesi, Michele Enrico Sagramoso, 167–68, and Minardi, “‘Le projet est aban-
donné,’” 34. I thank Paolo Russo for making me aware of Chesi’s study.
46. Pezzana, Memorie, 178.
47. Malinverni, “Don Filippo,” 70.
48. Lasagni, Dizionario biografico, 4:315; Janelli, Dizionario biografico, 385–86; Pigorini
Beri, Cenni biografici.
49. M. Russo, I libretti, XXIII, citing Calcaterra, Storia della poesia frugoniana, 132.
50. Poema parabolico diviso in morale, politico, e fisico (Venice, 1746).
51. His name is printed on the libretto’s title page. Selfridge-Field, A New
Chronology, 475. The opera opened 26 December 1741.
52. I-PAas, Carte Du Tillot, busta 88.
53. It is unclear which autumn opera is intended here (autumn 1741, before
carnival 1742, or autumn 1742, after carnival). However, since the singers in
autumn 1741, in Giuseppe Arena’s setting of Tigrane, are the same as those
employed in carnival 1742, clearly the note refers to the opera given in autumn
1741, preceding the carnival season.
71. On Le feste d’Apollo, see Mecarelli, Le feste d’Apollo and De Pasquale and Godi,
Il ducato in scena; on Alessandro e Timoteo, a work that according to P. Russo
“resembles more a court spectacle (a festa di corte) than a reform opera,” see
his “Musica a corte,” 173, and Lippmann, “Giuseppe Sarti.”
72. One might view the developments in Parma as related to those that occurred
in France after the querelle des bouffons, when older music was adapted to accom-
modate rapidly changing tastes. On this issue, see Weber, “La musique ancienne,”
esp. 81–82; Weber, “Le savant et le general,” a revised version of “Learned and
General Musical Taste in Eighteenth-Century France.” See also Charlton, ch.
3, “The Opéra: Cycles versus changes,” in Opera in the Age of Rousseau.
Conclusion
1. A notable study adopting a similar view is Glixon and Glixon, Inventing the
Business of Opera.
2. The Teatro Ducale bears a resemblance to the Paris Opéra, as explored in
Victoria Johnson’s Backstage at the Revolution.
3. [Author unattributed], “Reform,” NGO, 3:1265. “A term much used in the lit-
erature of opera in respect of changes in methods of writing operas which are
supposed to represent improvement. . . . It has been used at many stages of
the history of opera . . . above all [being associated with] the changes, identi-
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of Calzabigi and Gluck of the 1760s . . . but also present in the work of many
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4. David Charlton, “Visions of reform,” ch. 8 of Opera in the Age of Rousseau
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5. Perhaps the most recent descriptor used for Traetta’s operas is Charlton’s
“reforming,” in reference to Ippolito ed Aricia and I tindaridi, in Opera in the Age
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Gl’Incà del Perù. Parma, 18 December 1757. US-Wc.
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Solimano. Parma: Monti, 1759. I-PAc.
Les surprises de l’Amour. Paris: Chez la V. Delormel & Fils, 1757. F-Pn.
I tindaridi. Parma: Monti, 1760. I-PAc; M. Russo, I libretti (based on I-Bc copy, see I
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Zelindor, re de’ silfi. Parma: Monti, 1757. US-CA. IC7A100B750 v. 119.
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Audio Recordings
Les Indes galantes, Les Arts Florissants, cond. William Christie. Harmonia Mundi,
HMC 901367.69 (1991).
Ippolito ed Aricia, digital live recording, Bratislava Chamber Choir, Orchestra Inter-
nazionale d’Italia, David Golub, cond. Dynamic CDS257/1–4 (January 2000).
Les surprises de l’Amour, by Les Nouveaux Caractères, dir. Sébastien d’Hérin. Glossa,
GCD922701 (2013).
Zélindor, roi des silphes, Opera Lafayette, cond. Ryan Brown, Naxos DDD 8.660224
(2009).
operas in, 2; Traetta’s works for, 4, Zelindor, re de’ silfi. See Zélindor, roi des sil-
115–16, 117 phes (Francœur and Rebel)
Vitturi, Bartolomeo, 124 Zélindor, roi des silphes (Francœur and
Vivaldi, Antonio: Le quattro stagioni, 83, Rebel): exclusion from Mangot’s
99, 146–47n29 anthology, 35; length of, 62; libretto
Voltaire, 5, 6, 14 for Parma, 54, 55–56, 56, 57, 58;
Parma adaptation (as Zelindor, re de’
War of the Austrian Succession, 3, 79 silfi), 27–30, 53–55, 56, 57, 58–59,
Weiss, Piero, 137n33 97, 127, 151n15
Zeno, Apostolo: Merope, 124
Zaïde, reine de Grenade (Royer), 27 zingara, La (Capua): French revision
Zanetti, Antonio, 154n62 of, 17
Zanuzzi, Santini, 99 Zoroastre (Rameau), 35, 140n43
Musical Theater
Butler
informed one another from the genre’s first decades onward. Yet we still
have only a hazy view of why and how those intersections occurred and
in Eighteenth-
what they meant to a given opera’s creators and audiences.
Margaret Butler’s Musical Theater in Eighteenth-Century Parma: Enter-
tainment, Sovereignty, Reform tackles these issues, examining performance,
Century Sovereignty,
Parma in the mid-eighteenth century.
Reconstructing the French context for Tommaso Traetta’s Italian operas
that consciously set out to fuse French and Italian elements, Butler explores
Traetta’s operas and recreations in Parma of operas and ballets by Jean-
Entertainment,
Philippe Rameau and other French composers. She shows that Parma’s brand
Parma Reform
of entertainment is one in which Traetta’s operas occupy points along a con-
tinuum representing a long and rich tradition of adaptation and generic play.
Such a reading calls into question the very notion of operatic reform, showing
the need for a more flexible conception of a volatile moment in opera’s history.
The book elucidates the complicated circumstances in which entertainments
were created that spoke not only to Parma’s multicultural audiences but also to
an increasingly cosmopolitan Europe. Margaret R. Butler
“Musical Theater in Eighteenth-Century Parma brings a huge amount
of new information and insight to the field. This book stands out
most favorably in comparison to the recent literature because it treats
all aspects involved in the phenomenon of musical theater: spoken
theater and operatic theater are seen as points on a single continuum,
embedded in the general currents of intellectual and economic politics
in Parma, a small duchy with cosmopolitan ambitions.”
— L O R E N Z O B IA N C O N I , U N I V E R SI T Y O F B O L O G NA
Cover image: Ennemond Alexandre Petitot (1727–1801), attr. “Design for a Stage Curtain: The Interior of an
Elaborate Temple Dedicated to Illustrious Men.” (Inscription by later hand, in lower verso in graphite: “Petitot /
Tempio della Gloria eretto alli Uomini Illustri, per servire di Sipario a Pavia.”) Undated (1780s?), pen and gray ink
with gray and gray-brown wash on laid paper, 37 x 39.8 cm. National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, 2014.53.1.