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PROCEEDINGS of the Naples Pain Conference Research and Therapy for Human and Animal Suffering MAY 16th - 19 , 2010 1 2 3 Pre Congress day THE EXPRESSION OF PAIN IN ART MESSAGE FOM HIS EMINENCE THE CARDINAL CRESCENZIO SEPE ARCHBISHOP OF NAPLES GESUALDO DA VENOSA: «Musicorum Princeps, Doloris Princeps » Kathy Toma ANIMAL PAIN IN LATIN CHRISTIAN POETRY Antonio V. Nazzaro 4 5 6 7 “... O miei cari sospiri Miei graditi martiri...” GESUALDO DA VENOSA : «Musicorum Princeps, Doloris Princeps » Kathy Toma For the opening of this congress devoted to Pain one could not imagine or dream of a more perfect place to evoke the remarkable individual, Carlo Gesualdo, Prince de Venosa, as it was his own beloved uncle, the cardinal, then archbishop of Naples, Alfonso Gesualdo, who was behind the founding of this venerable institution. The figure of the great composer of madrigals, of the “musician-murderer,” best known for the dismal tragedy of killing his gorgeous wife and her lover, has been shrouded in a sulfurous cloud that still contains mysteries (1). Almost forgotten for centuries, the art of the “musician-murderer” was virtually rediscovered by Stravinsky in mid- twentieth century and has continued to inspire, today more than ever, writers, poets, cinematographers, composers, musicians, screen writers and, even, psychoanalysts. From Huxley to Schnittke, Herling, Schifano, Iudica, Werner Herzog, Dominique Fernandez, Krausser, Francesco D’Avalos, Sermonti-Francesconi, Tracanna-Guarino, Sciarrino, …and Bernardo Bertolucci, (the list is even longer…) Since then, the interest aroused by his modernity has steadily grown among those sensitive beings who, after the horrors of world wars, genocides and the Holocaust, have seen ideologies crumble, the birth of existentialism and the awareness of the absurd. Like Giordano Bruno and Caravaggio, the Prince of Venosa belongs to the cursed breed of artists, to the visionaries, whose thought travels at supersonic speeds in a world not ready to welcome them, preferring to burn them on the pyre of intolerance. The dichotomy between their individuality and their place in society in a particularly oppressive age, when Counter-reform and Inquisition reigned, could only have been a source of heartbreak. The experience of physical and psychological pain in a world that rejects them will carry them, through the catharsis of their art, to the realm of the sublime. The Prince de Venosa is the Prince of Pain. Very early, at the age of seven, he was to lose his mother, Geronima Borromée –sister of the future saint - and the niece of Pius IV. As well, from very young his health was fragile: he had asthma (the malady “del castrone”); later he would suffer for a long time from an unhealed fractured leg after falling from a horse; but, more than that, he would be sickened for life, poisoned by a horrible potion prepared by a witch at the request of a concubine who refused to be rejected. (2) The two women would end up in the dungeons of the Gesualdo's château after their trial. Psychological pain would be his companion throughout his life. Betrayed once, Gesualdo will be so doubly by his destiny which obligates him to become, a first time at eighteen years old, head of the family at the death of his older brother, Luigi, in the year 1584: a terrible year for him marked by two other bereavements – the death of his beloved grandfather, Luigi, who bequeathed to the family the title of Prince, and that of his uncle, Charles Borromée. Gesualdo, far from wanting to devote his life to a “career as prince,” thought only of assuaging his singular passion: music. The second betrayal, that of his wife Maria D'Avalos whom he wed in 1586, will feed all the gossips of the time causing him to become the laughing-stock of the entire city of Naples. He will have to face the horror of the code of honor then in force. And so the beautiful Maria D'Avalos and her lover, the Duke Fabrizio Carafa D'Andria, caught in the act, will be killed in the palace of San Severo in Naples the night of the 16th of October 1590 by Carlo Gesualdo who fled Naples the same night and sought refuge in his château in Gesualdo. This terrible tragedy, this moment of madness when everything in his life turned upside-down at the 8 age of twenty-four, is only a prelude to a long series of misfortunes that will batter him relentlessly like a curse (3). In 1600 Alfonsino died, the second son born of his second wife, Leonora d'Este, whom he wed in Ferrara in 1594, quite probably poisoned, he as well, in Gesualdo by the same witch. Carlo allows himself to die of despair, the 8th of September 1613, after writing his will, following the tragic death of Emanuel, his only son with Maria d'Avalos, fallen from a horse during a hunt, the 20th of August, at the age of twenty-six. “Io Tacero, ma nel silenzio mio Le lacrime e i sospiri diranno i miei martiri...” Even if the gesualdien tears and sighs are part of the “saturnine” tradition, including the celebrated Mélancholie by Dürer, as well as the Lamentations de Saint Pierre by Roland de Lassus, or flow my tears by Dowland or the Lamento d'Arianne, the gesualdien pain is distinct from all the others. Its accents cannot be coded, allying archaisms and modernism, pushing to the limits the potential of counterpoint and dissonance, showing strong affinities with certain painters, as with El Greco or Caravaggio, in their treatment of light, color or the increase or decrease in perspective. (We may one day discover links between the Gesualdo family and Caravaggio not yet explored, as a painting by Caravaggio (a Salvatore) is mentioned in the inventory of the Château Gesualdo). Pontormo, by his science of color, the richness of his tones and the exceptional silence that envelopes his floating world, Rosso Fiorentino whose fantastic purplish palette is like a sigh exhaled from the Responsoria and Cosmè Tura belong to the same dream-like universe. Who knows if Carlo had the chance to see his extraordinary painted panels from the organ of the Ferrara Cathedral where the Princess is pictured as contorted by anguish? With a marvelous gesturing of her hands she captures a strange light that also illuminates a portion of her face where through her open mouth a cry escapes from between her teeth. The archaisms and the modernism of Cosmè, the mystery and depth, the mixing of sacred and profane are of the same order: the oxymoron's alchemy... “…Enfer ou Ciel, qu’importe!” -La musique pour ne pas mourir- In Carlo's last piece of sacred music, the Responsoria et Alia ad Officium Hebdomadae Santae Spectantia ,(1611) probably his spiritual and artistic testament, we are surprised by the process of his identifying with the passion of Christ. Through the drama of God's son, abandoned and betrayed by all, is revealed the profound solitude of man/Carlo lambasted by pain who seeks answers to his questions, perhaps some alleviation of his interminable suffering. In the last two Books of the Madrigals (V and VI), a contemporary publication, where the form “a sei voci” (for six voices) dominates, the same existential misery resonates. There love is a corollary of death: Madrigaux et Répons intermingle, no border separates sacred music from profane. The eroticism of religion is counterpart to the mysticism of love in a brilliant oxymoron. The religion of love travels between sacred and profane. Life charted the fate of the Prince: his art is the only reply/question he can offer as it rises up with a terrible radiance from the disturbing chiaroscuro of his soul, amidst a silence yet filled with voices: “...che nel silenzio ancor son voci e prieghi” When we hear: “mercè grido, piangendo/ma chi m’ascolta?” The expression of man's existential solitude reaches the infinite as in the despairing narrative of Christ in the Responsori: “Posuerunt me in deserto solitudinis” and especially when the cry arises “quid me dereliquisti ?”. Questions without answers. The key word, “tradidit”, repeated insistently, expresses supreme betrayal, while “flagellatum” beats on the martyred flesh of the Grand d’Espagne, the Prince de Venosa, known to have submitted to masochistic sessions of flagellation, reported by Michele Giustiniani (4) and by Ferrante della Marra (5) and for whom the famous doctor Tommaso Campanella (6) provided the diagnosis. 9 The manic tones of the “Io moro” reach the cosmic shores of unfamiliar regions. The music becomes prayer, the interpellation is universal, the question crosses space and time to reach us, and beyond, and remains unanswered, eternally unresolved: “O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte si est dolor similis sicut dolor meus”, an unending quest “pietas” in this piece already put to music by Carlo in the Sacrae Cantiones of 1603 that ends with the words “dolor meus”- presence of my suffering self – of an extreme softness, like a puff of air, like the last sigh that disappears into eternity. Notes 1- cf. Orsola Tarantino Fraternali et Kathy Toma, Gesualdo da Venosa Fasti dimenticati di un principe del Rinascimento Luciano de Venezia, Salerno 2009 2- A. Cogliano, Il Principe, l’amante, la strega, ESI, Napoli 2004 3- G..Watkins, The Gesualdo Hex, Music, Myth, and Memory, Norton & Norton, New-York, London 2010 4- F. Vatielli, Il Principe di Venosa e Leonora d’Este, Milan 1941 p. 67: lettera a Giulio Giustiniani del 10 ottobre 1674 5- C. Gray, and P. Heseltine, Carlo Gesualdo, Musician and Murderer, London 1926 cit., pp.49-50: Rovine di Case Napolitane del suo tempo, 1632 6- Ibidem, cit., p.51 Thomas Campanella, Medicinalium juxta propria principia ( lib.