Vittoria Aleotti: Varied Performance Formats for the Madrigal and Female Music Spaces of the Renaissance

Vittoria Aleotti: Varied Performance Formats for the Madrigal and Female Music Spaces of the Renaissance Richard Carrick Carrick 1 There is a reason why the Renaissance era is often considered “the golden age” of choral music. Not only did European Renaissance music exist in multiple settings, such as courts, churches, private homes and monasteries/convents, but its performers also comprised a complex social structure. 1 In both sacred and secular polyphonic literature, research has discovered a surprising fluidity of performance options. Noel O’Regan asserts that music in Italy during the sixteenth century is dominated by one genre: the madrigal. 2 Using Vittoria Aleotti’s music as an example, I will examine the various formats in which madrigals could have been performed. By linking what we know about the fluidity of performance forces for madrigals with the desire to find more repertory that accurately embodies women’s encounters with music from the period, we are able to formulate a better understanding of how music making looked in female spaces of the Renaissance. As our collective knowledge deepens into how music functioned in the lives of Renaissance people, we are able to apply a wider aperture to view performance practice of the madrigal. Doing so has several implications: It deepens our understanding of female participation in Renaissance music and broadens the repertoire available for modern female-identifying musicians. Before discussing the fluidity of the madrigal’s format, it is important to address the current state of research on the personage of Vittoria and Raffaella Aleotti. Were they sisters, or were they the same person? We know that their father, Giambattista Aleotti, was a successful engineer and architect for the duke of Ferrara.3 In the dedication to Vittoria Aleotti’s Ghirlanda de madrigali, Giambattista mentions that he had five daughters.4 C.A. Carruthers-Clement argues that, based on descriptions of musical talent and specific skills, Vittoria/Raffaella are one and the same: “These facts indicate that the descriptions of the musical abilities of Raffaella in her later years closely coincide with the descriptions of Vittoria’s abilities and accomplishments at a Carrick 2 young age.”5 Her argument is that these different accounts describe the same person at various stages of musical development. The confusion of the identity of Rafaella/Vittoria is compounded by information found in the will of Giambattista Aleotti, where he only mentions four daughters and, suspiciously, Vittoria’s name is omitted.6 However, further research done by Bowers reveals that it is likely that Vittoria had passed away by the time the will was created.7 While we do not yet have definitive proof, it makes logical sense that Vittoria would be missing from her father’s will if she had already died. Bowers writes: It seems clear that Raffaella and Vittoria were not the same person, as various writers have proposed. In the first place, both the Sacrae cantiones and the Ghirlanda de madrigali came out in 1593, and it is unlikely that the same person would have had works published under two different names in the same year.8 Bowers certainly makes a strong case for her argument, backed by lots of archival research. Perhaps the most convincing argument can be made by examining the music found in the two publications from 1593. Suzanne G. Cusick writes about Vittoria Aleotti’s pieces from the Ghirlanda de madrigali a quattro voci: “They represent a range of late 16th-century styles, from simple canzonettas to serious efforts at exploiting dissonance to express images of amorous longing or distress. Occasional awkward handlings of imitation or of text declamation suggest that the madrigals of Ghirlanda were still student works.”9 While Vittoria’s compositions are described as the work of a younger composer, Raffaella’s motets and madrigals are given a more favorable critique: “[Raffaella’s] motets show a thorough mastery of contrapuntal technique, rhythmic vitality and sensitivity to the meaning of the texts.”10 If these two separate collections were published in the same year by the same person, it is unlikely that the work would show such discrepancy in the compositional development of the composer. It is conceivable that, if Rafaella was the older sister, Rafaella’s work would be more developed than that of Vittoria’s. Based on the current research by Jane Bowers and the evidence that the music itself provides, it Carrick 3 is likely that Rafaella and Vittoria were indeed two different people. However, one should not read the criticism of Vittoria Aleotti’s work and assume that her music is not worthy of performance or study; her music proves to be both rewarding to perform and accessible to a wide variety of ensembles. With an informed perspective on who these Aleotti women were, it is possible to examine the spaces in which they lived, worked, and performed. There were several female spaces for music making in the sixteenth century, comprising: court (including the work of courtesans, noblewomen, as well as the various concerti delle donne), the home, and the convents.11 While it is beyond the scope of this article to give detailed accounts of these various spaces for female music making, it is important to recognize that these spaces existed. Furthermore, these spaces were fraught with cultural and political implications for music making. Female musicians of the time were under close scrutiny by their male contemporaries and were easily cast aside.12 Because the music and stories of these women were so easily discarded, there have been considerable challenges for modern scholars to uncover and understand their music. Laurie Stras writes: “By denying Ferrarese noblewomen’s musical agency throughout the sixteenth century, the accepted narrative puts the city’s female musicians exclusively at the behest of male control. Too often, their position, organization, and continued success are attributed solely to the patronage of Duke Alfonso II. The real story is more complex.”13 If it was this challenging for noblewomen it was probably even more challenging for female musicians born with lower status. Even amidst this male control certain opportunities for women became available. In 1566, Maddalena Casulana (ca. 1544–ca. 1590) had a collection of pieces published, marking the first known publication of music by a female composer in western music history.14 While the numbers of published female composers are far fewer than those of Carrick 4 their male counterparts, it is important to recognize this shift in the landscape of music authorship. Casulana’s publications paved the way for other female musicians. Jane Bowers writes: More women emerged as composers in Italy between 1566 and 1700 than in any previous period in Western music history – indeed, than in all of that history taken together […] Soon madrigals by other women began to be issued […] In 1593 the first collection of polyphonic sacred music by a woman, the Ferrarese nun Raffaella Aleotti, appeared.15 The publication mentioned here is the Sacrae cantiones by Raffaella Aleotti. That same year, a collection of spiritual madrigals titled the Ghirlanda de Madrigali a Quatro Voci, di Vittoria Aleotti was published by Vittoria Aleotti. I use the latter of these publications as a source of my research. Before examining the work of Vittoria Aleotti further, we must first establish the solo singing practices of the time and how it would be possible for singers to perform polyphonic madrigals as solos. There are several primary sources that reveal the madrigal would have been performed in ways other than a polyphonic a cappella format. The famous painting, “Woman Playing Lute,” by Bartolomeo Veneto, shows a woman playing the lute and, presumably, singing. In the bottom left corner of the image, a single part book is open (see figure 1). From this image we can possibly infer that it was in practice for women to accompany themselves while singing from a single partbook. A similar example (see figure 2) can be found in the painting “Lute Player,” by Michelangelo Mersi da Caravaggio. Once again, the image is of a lutenist (most likely female, although the image only includes the hands of the player) with a single partbook. Written accounts of performers from the time offer similar findings. Referring to the work of Tullia d’Aragona, a poet, musician, and courtesan from sixteenth-century Venice, Martha Feldman writes: “According to an admirer [of d’Aragona] at the Ferrarese court, her sight-reading of music was proficient enough that she could ‘sing from the book any motet or Carrick 5 chanson,’ and as she played the lute, she surely accompanied her own verse in monodic arrangements too.”16 Feldman demonstrates further evidence that, not only was it possible to sing from one partbook and accompany oneself on the lute, it was common practice and could be done quite well. Figure 1: Woman Playing Lute (or Figure 2: “Lute Player” by Michelagelo Mersi Portrait of a Lady as St. Cecilia), by da Caravaggio, c. 1595 Bartolomeo Veneto, between 1505- 1530. Solo singing in the sixteenth century existed in several mediums. Many singers from the early-modern era would sing their own poetry over preexisting melodies and harmonies. Other singers would perform composed songs accompanied, either played by themselves or others, on lute or other chordal instruments. Letters from Count Giovanni Bardi from Florence showcase his views on how to appropriately perform solo song: For Bardi, there were two methods of solo signing that had interlocking imperatives. If the singer was extemporizing on a formula, he or she assumed the responsibility of Carrick 6 composer and was required to form a melody that approximated the tonal contours of speech, the rhythm which is governed by the text.

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