Reconciling the ‘academic’ and ‘musical’ readings of Orfeo

Several scholars have argued that through Orfeo, and through ‘Possente spirto’ in particular, the composer offers a ‘musical argument’ in reply to Giovanni Artusi’s criticism of modern music, while others have suggested that the work itself serves as a ‘hymn’ to music’s greatness.Footnote ⁹ The characterisation of Orpheus’s musical style as inappropriate for the persuasion of his judge may seem to contradict or even invalidate the views that arise from interpretations of Orfeo that focus primarily on Monteverdi’s musical philosophy. In order to clarify the issue of possible alignments and misalignments between these readings of Orfeo, I will briefly outline the views of the Invaghiti – as well as the view of certain authors admired by the group – on music’s power and function.

As noted above, the Invaghiti considered the subjects of oratory and poetry their primary focus, while the subject of music held an ancillary place among the group’s studies and activities.Footnote ¹⁰ This comparative lack of emphasis on the subject of music is in keeping with Guazzo and Castiglione’s reference to the art as a mere ‘pastime’ for members of the nobility; Guazzo even goes so far as to reiterate Plato’s relegation of music to an exercise for the improvement of the mind, just as physical exercise improves the body.Footnote ¹¹ Nevertheless, despite its secondary status among the Invaghiti, Guazzo’s views on musical expression appear to align with Monteverdi’s regarding the seconda prattica, in particular the need to match musical and textual affect (or in the words of the composer’s brother, ‘to make the words the mistress of the harmony’).Footnote ¹² Guazzo writes, ‘the variation of the voice that has acquired grace, like an instrument of many strings, uplifts the listener and the speaker, the modulation [literally, ‘mutation’] of which one must do discretely in respect to time, and according to the quality of the words, as well as the diversity of judgments and reasons’.Footnote ¹³

Another well-known voice in this debate was Torquato Tasso, whose writings were deeply admired by the Invaghiti, in particular the Gerusalemme liberata, a work whose revisions were undertaken by the author in close consultation with Academy member Scipione Gonzaga.Footnote ¹⁴ Tasso expresses a similar view on musicopoetic expression in his dialectic, La Cavalletta (1584), and in the Discorsi del poema eroico (1595), in which he laments the lack of ‘agreement’ between poetry and music in the ‘art of imitation’, owing to ‘human imperfection’; he believed that this problem characterised the music of his own period, which differed from his vision of glorious Antiquity, in which ‘musicians and poets were the same, as for example … Orpheus’ (Tasso’s works may have been introduced to the Invaghiti by the poet’s friends within the Academy, which, in addition to Scipione Gonzaga, included Ascanio de’ Mori and Stefano Santini).Footnote ¹⁵ Orpheus’s use of a highly ornate musical style could therefore be interpreted as illustrative of the seconda prattica philosophy by extending Orpheus’s oratorical shortcomings to improprieties of musical expression.

By contrast, the humanist philosophy of the Invaghiti would seem directly to challenge the view of the work as a ‘hymn’ to music’s greatness. As an oration that fails as a result of the speaker’s attempt to substitute stylistic brilliance for argumentative substance, the musical exhibition of Monteverdi’s setting becomes an illustration par excellence of the protagonist’s attempt to sway his judge with a barrage of musical ‘delights’, rather than a triumphant display of music’s expressive power. This view surfaces once again in Stefano Guazzo’s writings, when the author writes that music ‘was not instituted primarily … for amusement, not for vanity, not for pleasure … [but] as a motivation to virtuous deeds’, and further, that ‘virtuous’ music will not ‘simply delight … our senses’.Footnote ¹⁶

On this question, we should also note that the libretto printed for the 1607 performance (the version that was performed for the Academy) features the destruction of the musical demigod Orpheus by the Bacchantes, in keeping with the Ovidian rendition of the myth. If one were therefore to try to glean the Invaghiti’s philosophical statement on music’s power from this text, it could be construed that the drama presents music as an art that fails to move the stout heart of Charon, fails to rescue Eurydice from the Inferno, and ends with the destruction of Orpheus by the agents of Dionysus. I would argue, however, that Striggio’s libretto is not meant to convey any such grand philosophical message on the subject of this kind. Rather, the faithfulness to Ovid’s rendition is more likely in emulation of Angelo Poliziano’s popular Fabula di Orfeo (given in Mantua around 1480), a work that finds clear resonances in Striggio’s text.Footnote ¹⁷ Neither is the ‘musical philosophy’ of the work substantially modified by the changed ending found in the 1609 score: despite the lieto fine by which Orpheus avoids annihilation, the young singer still fails to move Charon, and fails to recover Eurydice, undone by his ‘youthful desire’ (giovanil desio; from Act IV) for personal glory, as well as everlasting happiness.

The view of Orfeo as a testament to music’s greatness has also led to the characterisation of Orpheus as an idealised embodiment of music’s power, an inclination which would seem to be supported by his musical status, and his position as the protagonist of a work that has come to be viewed as the first ‘great’ work of the opera genre.Footnote ¹⁸ This conclusion, however, is not supported by Striggio’s characterisation of the mythical figure. Rather, in keeping with the moralising model found in narrative works composed for or by the members of the Academy, the protagonist is a heroic youth who comes to an tragic end, thanks to errors or character flaws (the Aristotelian hamartia, in other words, presented as the agency of a ‘tragedy of character’, in which the hero is undone by actions that embody this error).Footnote ¹⁹ And seen in this context, we may better reconcile his failures with his dramaturgical function, including his inability to persuade Charon through his grand oration.

It is Torquato Tasso’s views on artistic representation, though, that offer the clearest explanation for the apparent lack of connection between the musical prowess of Striggio’s Orpheus and his oratorical ineffectiveness. In the Allegory on the Gerusalemme liberata, Tasso suggests that the lessons offered through the meaning of the words themselves serve the highest function, namely moral instruction, while their performance – both textual and musical – act only as a ‘delightful’ decoration through the imitation of moral habit: ‘poetry, like an animal in which two separate natures are joined, is composed of Imitation and Allegory. With the former it attracts the souls and the ears of men and brings them wondrous delight, while the with the latter it instructs men in virtue or knowledge or both.’Footnote ²⁰ This view, however, does not devalue music’s power as ‘the most powerful imitator’, as Marsilio Ficino refers to it (whose Neoplatonic philosophy also resonates throughout the Invaghiti’s writings). Rather, it expresses the popular humanist view that – as in the art of oratory – performance serves the secondary goals of ‘moving’ and ‘delighting’ the listener, while the primary value is to be found through the moral instruction offered in the meaning of the words themselves.Footnote ²¹

Both Striggio and Monteverdi make indirect allusions to this view in their correspondence surrounding the planned entertainments for Duke Ferdinando’s wedding to Caterina de’ Medici in 1617. This exchange of letters between the composer and his erstwhile librettist began with Striggio’s solicitation of the composer’s opinion on the suitability a new libretto for musical setting (namely, Scipione Agnelli’s Le nozze di Tetide). Monteverdi responded in his now-famous letter of 9 December 1616 (‘Orfeo led me to a just prayer’, etc.), in which he addresses potential difficulties related to the musical imitation of various speeches within the text, as well as their ability to move the passions: ‘How, dear Sir, can I imitate the speech of the winds, if they do not speak? And how can I, by such means, move the passions?’Footnote ²² A few days later, Striggio wrote to Duke Ferdinando to relate the composer’s concerns, stating that the composer did not know how to move and delight through his setting of the text; like Monteverdi, Striggio does not mention instruction.Footnote ²³ Unfortunately for the modern scholar, such diplomatic correspondence is not the place for either Striggio or Monteverdi to venture an explicit philosophical statement such as Tasso’s. And just as Monteverdi’s considerable workload may have kept him from producing his long-promised treatise on the seconda prattica, so Striggio’s substantial professional duties at the Mantuan court led to a dearth of academic writings on this (or any other) subject. For this reason, attempts to ascertain Striggio’s views on the subjects of oratory and music in Orfeo are confined almost entirely to the analysis of his libretto, in addition to the views and writings of his academici ‘degli Invaghiti’, to which I now turn.

Oratory and the Invaghiti

As mentioned above, the prominence of oratory in the Invaghiti’s study and practice reflects its place in the curricula of Italian educational institutions during the period. This instruction began in primary school with the study of the Classical trivium (grammar, logic and oratory) and continued at a rigorous pace through the university level.Footnote ²⁴ Throughout the period, it was Cicero’s writings and speeches that were most widely read, taught and imitated, in particular his De oratore and Brutus (these two works were published respectively in 133 and sixty separate editions between 1450 and 1610, the majority by Italian printers). During this same period, the works of Aristotle, particularly the Rhetoric, experienced a steady ascendancy – ninety-one editions over the same range of years – as academics gradually integrated the practical and philosophical viewpoints of these two authors.Footnote ²⁵

Certain aspects did not require integration, however, as Cicero – who knew and frequently quoted the Rhetoric – directly echoed Aristotle’s teaching on the three principal forms of persuasion (i.e., ethos, logos and pathos, discussed below), along with the oratorical canons related to the construction and arrangement of one’s arguments. Cicero’s explicit statements on the need for oratory to serve a virtuous purpose, echoing the sentiments of Plato (the latter’s statue serving as a prop within the idyllic setting of the Brutus), filled the lacunae left by Aristotle’s occasionally ambiguous statements on the subject. Renaissance treatises on oratorical theory and practice rarely strayed from these teachings on the foundation, arrangement and moral purpose of oratory; instead, they offered new ideas on epistemological issues, such as the division of the art’s various components between the subjects of rhetoric and logic, as well as performative issues, such as the design of arguments through the use of rhetorical commonplaces and proofs.Footnote ²⁶

The writings of Quintilian also experienced increased popularity during this era, though it was Cicero’s status as the ‘orator–statesman’ that seems to have appealed most to Italian nobles, as opposed to Aristotle’s vocation as a philosopher, or Quintilian’s primary employment as a pedagogue. Perhaps it is for this reason that, as noted by Peter Mack, ‘in describing the ideal courtier, Baldessare Castiglione consciously modelled Il cortegiano on Cicero’s De oratore’.Footnote ²⁷ In fact, the editor of a 1593 printing of Castiglione’s Il cortegiano – for which Academy member Bernardino Marliani contributed a foreword and a new biographical sketch – in part confirms Mack’s assertion by explicitly stating that Castiglione modelled his teachings on the art of oratory after the teachings of Cicero, based in the ‘Platonic school of reasoning’.Footnote ²⁸

Both ancient and early modern writers address the topics of elocution and performance (the oratorical canons of elocutio and pronuntiatio, respectively) in great detail, the latter group frequently advocating imitation of a particular ancient orator. The orator most often imitated was again Cicero (a style appropriately termed ‘Ciceronianism’), an inclination illustrated in academy member Eugenio Cagnani’s comparison of the eloquence of Cicero and of a famous Mantuan orator, whose orations had on occasion been recited for the Invaghiti.Footnote ²⁹ Perhaps in imitation of Cicero’s conversations on the subject, Renaissance theorists occasionally indulged in mildly hyperbolic statements on the importance of these performative canons, though these proclamations should not be taken to suggest that even the most skilful eloquence could be substituted for sound moral reasoning. In the De oratore, for instance, though Cicero first states that ‘delivery … has the sole and supreme power in oratory’, he later qualifies this statement by assuring his reader that even the most skilful delivery, ‘if there be not matter beneath it clear and intelligible to the speaker, must either amount to nothing, or be received with ridicule by all who hear it’ (additional quotes to this effect are given in the analysis below).Footnote ³⁰ Following Cicero’s example, Guazzo addresses the importance of eloquence (or the orator’s ‘living voice’, as the latter refers to it) within a dialogue that closely imitates a conversation on the subject from the Brutus: naming Socrates as the model of moral philosophy that should accompany all learning. Guazzo derides orators who rely on eloquence as a substitute for moral substance, suggesting that ‘unpolished wisdom is much more to be commended, than a copious and foolish wit’, and further, that in speaking, ‘the form is not considered foremost … but the weight and matter; therefore in reasoning, focus is not given to gracefulness and ornament, so much as … utility’.Footnote ³¹

Moving from the realm of oratorical practice to its representation in the theatre, we note that the vast majority of Renaissance poets adhered to the spirit of Cicero’s moral maxim as well.Footnote ³² Torquato Tasso articulates the viewpoint of the ‘poetic moralists’, stating, ‘[how] very dangerous the lessons of poets would be if in dubious places they did not show us the path of virtue and serve as guides’.Footnote ³³ Examples of this moralistic inclination in works composed by members of the Academy include Ercole Udine’s epic poem of 1599 on the myth of Psyche (Psiche), which offers moral instruction on the subject of obedience; Baldvino Simoncelli’s libretto on the story of Europa (L’Europa, composed and ‘rappresentata in musica’ for the Invaghiti in 1626), which warns against lustfulness; and Mutio Manfredi’s ‘The amorous contest’ (Il contrasto amoroso; Venice, 1592), which offers object lessons on the vices of jealousy and dishonesty.

Monteverdi and oratory

Specific information on Monteverdi’s education is unfortunately not available to modern scholars. Neither is there any evidence that the composer was familiar with the treatises on the application of rhetorical principles to musical composition published during the period (e.g., Nicola Vicentino’s L’antica musica ridotta alla moderna prattica of 1555, or Joachim Burmeister’s Musica poetica of 1606). That said, the composer displays familiarity with at least the technical aspects of Classical oratory in both his public writings and his private correspondence.

Perhaps the most frequently cited demonstration of this knowledge is found in his preface to the ‘Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda’ (published in 1638 in the Eighth Book of Madrigals), in which the composer offers a threefold taxonomy of musical genera (molle, temperato and concitato), similar to Aristotle’s classification of the orator’s low, middle and high voices.Footnote ³⁴ A clear demonstration of Monteverdi’s ability to create a successful oration is similarly found in his letter to Striggio of 13 March 1620 (see Fig. 1a), in which the composer gives his final declination of Duke Ferdinando’s offer to return to service at the Mantuan court.

Fig. 1a

Letter from Monteverdi to Striggio, 13 March 1620 (trans. Stevens).

Fig 1a

(continued)

Fig 1a

(continued)

Fig 1a

(conclusion)

The composer’s use of the rhetorical arts in his professional correspondence is no surprise, since the basic principles of oratory were often taught through the art of letter writing at the primary school level (which Monteverdi almost certainly would have attended in preparation for his career as a musician).Footnote ³⁵ In keeping with the teachings of the Ancients, section [1] functions as the introductory exordium, naming and praising Monteverdi’s ‘judge’, Duke Ferdinando (via the duke’s representative, Alessandro Striggio). In section [1a], which serves as a continuation of the exordium, the composer states that he is not pleading for himself alone, but for his sons as well. This naming of additional appellants illustrates the composer’s use of pathos, appealing to his judge’s sympathy in order to offer the duke ‘moral instruction’ on his duty to maintain the well-being of his servant and his servant’s family.Footnote ³⁶ The composer does not offer a narratio (statement of accepted facts), which, according to the Ancients, would not be required since Monteverdi could assume the judge’s familiarity with the circumstances. Instead, section [2] marks the beginning of the confirmatio, in which Monteverdi offers his arguments: at his current position in Venice, the composer receives a higher salary than he did in Mantua, and his salary is always paid on time; he is given greater authority and respect; and his duties are considerably lighter, an issue over which Monteverdi sought relief following the concert season of 1608. (In fact, the composer’s appeal for sympathy, offered with artful restraint in this letter, may have been intended as a subtle jab at Duke Vincenzo’s refusals to grant the composer’s repeated requests for relief from his duties in 1608, in relation to his own health and well-being.)Footnote ³⁷ In section [2a], Monteverdi offers his strongest arguments, though in a show of oratorical tact, the composer avoids an overtly confrontational tone by placing them in the form of rhetorical questions. First, Monteverdi asks if it would it be wise to abandon an assured salary for money that ‘dries up’ at times of political uncertainty; second, could he depend on payment from the duke, who had failed to pay money already owed to the composer? Section [3] answers the expected counter-arguments (the confutatio, or in the composer’s own words, what ‘the world would … say against me’): it would certainly be folly to accept less than what others have received from the duke, and again, less than what the Mantuan treasury owes him already. Further, all payments from the treasury require the indignity of having to beg for payment, an action which contradicts a statement made by the duke’s own minister, namely that a servant may not serve with honour unless he is treated honourably. Finally, section [4] offers the composer’s ‘conclusion’, or peroratio: Monteverdi will continue to be a willing servant of the duke, but will not leave better employment for worse. In a less artful move, the composer again mentions the money that the duke still has not paid him, an issue that he would continue to raise for several years, with tact if not always with perfect art.

Monteverdi adorns his oration with a graceful elocutio (i.e., the placement of words and figures), illustrated in his exordium (see Fig. 1b).

Fig. 1b

Exordium from Monteverdi’s letter to Striggio.

Through the extensive use of semicolons, for example, the composer delivers the entire salutation to his judge in a single sentence, a favourite device among orators. Phrase (1) offers Monteverdi’s most direct address of the duke (‘his most serene highness’ (Sua Altezza Serenissima)), for which the composer employs the ‘magnificent’ verbal style through the predominant use of open vowels and liquid consonants (a component of the ‘high’ oratorical style, which was expected for the direct address of one’s judge; examples are underlined).Footnote ³⁸ The composer then turns to the closed vowels and harsh consonant sounds of the ‘severe’ style (a component of the ‘middle’ style) in the first clause of phrase (2), in which he mentions his former employment under Gonzaga patronage (perhaps another subtle dig at the poor treatment which Monteverdi felt he received during the 1608 season). In phrase (3), the composer employs various pairs of internal rhymes (-enza, -erò, -arle, etc.; marked with italics) to add to the ‘delightfulness’ of his style. Pompeo Baccusi uses a similar repetitive device in his aforementioned oration, stating, ‘in the faces of women, you see something that is not soft, that is not pure, that is not clear, that does not Shine Forth’ (ne volti delle donne non vi si scorge cosa che non sia molle, che non sia pura, che non sia Chiara). The repetition of the phrase, ‘that is not’ (che non sia), a device referred to as anaphora, is used in this case to increase the impact of the descriptors that follow (molle, pura, chiara / soft, pure, clear). Similarly, Monteverdi’s use of paired rhyme adds emphasis and grace to the composer’s expressions of gratitude and humility before the duke, thereby creating sort of ‘textual double genuflection’ appropriate for the address of a servant to his lord.

In sum, Monteverdi’s letter is a model of proper oratory: his execution of the three principal forms of persuasion is both effective and appropriate, establishing credibility (ethos) through the proper address of his judge; offering moral instruction through sound, logical arguments (logos); and using pathos (emotional appeals) to move the duke’s heart regarding his duty to his servant and his servant’s family. The dispositio is properly arranged, and the elocutio uses the proper style, enhanced through ‘delightful’ ornamentation. In all these ways, this letter demonstrates that the composer possessed at least a ‘working knowledge’ of the art, and one that may have informed his portrayal of Orpheus’s ineffective oratory.

Before turning to an analysis of ‘Possente spirto’ itself, however, the issue of the ornamented version of Orpheus’s vocal line, printed in the published score, must be briefly addressed. As Tim Carter has noted, we cannot be certain what the printed version represents in relation to the performance of 1607, nor is it likely that the unornamented line was ever meant to be performed.Footnote ³⁹ It is therefore equally possible that the ornamented line represents what the composer desired, a record of what the actor, Francesco Rasi, had performed, or simply an example of the style of ornamentation that would be considered appropriate to the aria itself. Given the composer’s understanding of the oratorical arts, however, is seems reasonable to conclude that Monteverdi could have offered a setting that emphasises Orpheus’s inclination towards youthful exhibitionism, manifested in part through showy musical ornamentation.

Alternatively, if the line represents the interpretation of Rasi, this could equally point towards Rasi’s own rhetorical education (he studied at the University of Pisa). In keeping with the professional practices of the period, moreover, Rasi’s study of dramatic expression would have been based at least in part on the art of oratorical speech-making, perhaps offering special insight into the performance of oratory on the theatrical stage. And even if neither the composer nor the actor initially considered Orpheus’s failures in this regard, Alessandro Striggio could have brought the issue to their attention during the composition and rehearsal process, in order to assure that the moral object lesson offered through Orpheus’s failure would be effectively represented in performance.

Oratorio contrapposto: ‘Possente spirto’ and the Prologue

Many of Orpheus’s speeches feature the oratorical devices of the performative canons, reflective of the artful discourse expected from the educated gentry who undoubtedly made up the audience of the 1607 performance. We see this illustrated in his proclivity for the popular Petrarchan contrapposto of light and dark imagery (see, for example, his recitation in praise of Eurydice from Act I, ‘Rosa del ciel’, as well as his lament upon her death from Act II, ‘Tu se’ morta’). Only the Prologue and the ‘Possente spirto’, however, may be labelled properly as orations, since they feature not only the canons of artful discourse, but also those canons that serve as the foundation of persuasive argument. Through the contrasting examples found in these two ‘musical orations’ – performed by the allegorical personification of music and the demigod of music – Striggio and Monteverdi offer illustrations on the proper foundation and performance of both oratory and music.Footnote ⁴⁰

The contradiction between Orpheus’s musical skill and his ineffectiveness as an orator may have been meant to convey a subtle message on music’s ability to move the heart and mind of the listener, as well as its limitations in regard to moral instruction. This message is implied by La Musica’s choice not to mention the latter among Orpheus’s abilities (as well as Charon’s choice not to mention instruction in response to Orpheus’s musical oration, discussed below). As the allegorical embodiment of music proclaimed the greatness of this art for the ‘delight’ of the Academy’s guests, the members may have delighted instead in their ‘secret’ understanding of the hidden, ironic message on music’s power.Footnote ⁴¹ Guazzo describes both the hidden and the elitist nature of such messages, as well as their appeal to cognoscenti such as the Invaghiti:

To turn from philosophising on music’s power to the question of the two orators’ skill and effectiveness, we can begin with the Classical teachers whose writings served as the foundation of the Invaghiti’s study and practice. Aristotle states that the orator’s first goal is to gain the good will of the judge through a show of good moral character (ethos). For this reason, Quintilian suggests that the orator should possess ‘a certain modesty in thoughts, style, [and] tone’, and further, that ‘the confidence of the orator ought not to display itself too plainly, for the judge generally detests assurance in a pleader’.Footnote ⁴³ Striggio’s text for the orations’ exordia begins appropriately enough, as both orators follow the Greek custom of directly addressing and paying homage to the judge, Orpheus to the ‘powerful’ and ‘formidable’ Charon, and La Musica to the ‘illustrious heroes, gentlemen of royal blood’; the latter further claims, ‘fame … cannot approach the truth [of their glorious deeds], so high the aim’, adroitly implying that the noble listeners are the equals – if not the superiors – of the heroes and gods about to be presented on the stage.

It is in the performance (pronuntiatio) of this homage, as manifested in Monteverdi’s setting, that the success of the two speakers first diverges. In fact, Orpheus damages his ethos before he has placed a single argument through his ostentatious vocal display, which falls within this verbal genuflection (Ex. 1a), facilitated by Monteverdi’s substantial alteration of the text’s natural speech rhythms through the introduction of several long-held notes.Footnote ⁴⁴ By comparison, such disparities between spoken and musical rhythms are nearly absent in the corresponding address and obeisance to the judges of La Musica’s oration (Ex. 1b).

Ex. 1a

‘Possente spirto’, Orpheus’s opening address to Charon as judge.

Ex. 1b

La Musica’s opening address to the judges.

The text for Orpheus’s concluding peroratio begins with an address of his judge as well, followed by a brief recapitulation of his request. As in the exordium, this statement includes a display of humility (‘Only you, noble God, can help me’), though his humility is short lived, as he closes the oration with a boast of his own power which also serves as a refutation of his judge (‘the most rigid soul in vain hardens itself [against my lyre]’; see Ex. 2).

Ex. 2

Closing line of ‘Possente spirto’.

Although it is only conjecture, Monteverdi’s setting of the latter phrase may have been meant to emphasise the very word that embodies the primary agency of Orpheus’s failure as an orator (‘vain’) by setting it to the aria’s final vocal flourish (unlike earlier flourishes, this example does not require a distinction between the ornamented and unornamented lines, since the former does not continue past the third strophe). Cicero condemns such errors, on the one hand stating that self-praise violates the ‘rules of decency’, and on the other, relating the ‘very strange’ story of an ‘irascible orator [who] wrangled … with the judge himself’.Footnote ⁴⁵ Of greater importance in the light of the precepts of Ancient and Renaissance moralists, however, is the fact that this statement damages his ethos through the prideful denial of the power and authority of divine providence, an action which inevitably leads to failure in the moralistic narratives of both periods.Footnote ⁴⁶

Moving to the subject of logos, the young orator fails to justify his request with the types of arguments suggested by Aristotle for the effective persuasion of a judge. Among these are historical examples (most pertinently Aphrodite, the mother of Adonis, who was allowed to enter the Inferno to recover her son), moral maxims and metaphors. Academy member Pompeo Baccusi’s oration ‘In defence and praise of women’ offers one or more of these types of proofs following the placement of each argument: his use of metaphor is especially descriptive, including his suggestion that virtuous women are ‘beautiful copies of flowers’, as well as his equation of ‘ungrateful’ women with the eight-headed Hydra, and those ‘infamous monsters … who with teeth, and with malignant poison, tear, and disfigure [honest women]’.Footnote ⁴⁷ Baccusi cites historical examples of virtuous women as well, including those who had achieved a high level of eloquence, such as Hortensia, who famously delivered an oration to the Second Roman Triumvirate of 42 bce.

Rather than adopting sound moral reasoning, Orpheus weaves a clever, circular argument: ‘I am no longer living, since my dear spouse is deprived of life / my own heart is no longer within me / and without a heart, how can it be that I still live?’Footnote ⁴⁸ This use of cunning logic would undoubtedly have been looked upon by the members of the Invaghiti as the type of subtle reasoning associated with the morally vacuous rhetoric of the Sophists. As Aristotle writes, ‘it is more fitting for a good man to display himself as an honest fellow than as a subtle reasoner’, and elsewhere, ‘do not let your words seem to be inspired so much by intelligence … as by moral purpose’.Footnote ⁴⁹ Cicero suggests that youthful orators in particular are inclined to present arguments that ‘[abound] in those turns of thought which are not so much distinguished by their weight and solidity as by their … elegance’, a sentiment echoed by Guazzo’s description of the orator who is ‘more intent on the sound of [his] words, than the weight of judgments’.Footnote ⁵⁰ In fact, Cicero’s appraisal of Orpheus’s arguments might have been especially harsh, since he states that arguments based in the ‘passion of love’ are ‘excessively puerile’ (and in addition, as Steinheuer has noted, belonging to the ‘middle’ style).Footnote ⁵¹

Similar examples of the substitution of sophistry for moral reasoning can be found in Melanto’s mock oration to Penelope from Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria, as well as the advice of Octavia’s nurse to her mistress from L’incoronazione di Poppea, both of which feature librettos written by a member of another humanist academy – though one whose views on moralism were markedly different from the Invaghiti – the Accademia degli Incogniti.Footnote ⁵² Melanto’s attempt to persuade the grieving queen to take a new lover opens with a cleverly couched insult, based in a subtle turn of phrase: ‘Dear beloved queen / you are wise and prudent / only to your own disadvantage / I would see you less wise’; the young libertine’s argument then culminates in the circular reasoning, ‘whoever enjoys [the fire of living lovers] does no wrong to him who is dead’.Footnote ⁵³ Although Busenello’s morally ambiguous libretto for Poppea may have been meant to mock or offer an ironic commentary on Octavia’s struggle to follow the moral teachings of the stoic philosopher Seneca, the Roman empress’s words from the first act represent an adherence to the moral idealism championed by groups such as the Invaghiti. Within this context, the nurse’s attempts to persuade her mistress to take a new lover in revenge for Nero’s infidelity would have been understood as an action that was decidedly immoral. Correspondingly, the nurse uses circular logic similar to Orpheus’s, suggesting, ‘it is shameful to put up with insults, but honourable to avenge oneself … if someone wounds your feelings, wound their honour’ (statements which Octavia refers to as ‘foul arguments’ (sozzi argomenti)).Footnote ⁵⁴ Therefore despite the possible differing of the two Academies’ views on such sophistic arguments, all three dramas clearly disassociate this persuasive strategy from the type of moralism championed by the Invaghiti.

In contrast to Orpheus’s sophistry, La Musica’s arguments are based solidly on the citation of historical examples. The appeal to history is achieved through La Musica’s assertion regarding music’s power to calm the mind and cool fierce anger (an allusion to the historical example of Alexander the Great from Plutarch’s Moralia, which is also referenced by Guazzo in his dichiarazione on music from La ghirlanda), the citation of Orpheus’s legendary ability to subdue wild beasts through the beauty and power of his music, and a reference to his conquering of the Inferno.Footnote ⁵⁵ A further Aristotelian method of persuasion is found in La Musica’s ‘[placement of] the scene before the judges’ eyes’, accomplished through the mention of the Pindus mountains and the Helicon river, two of the iconic features of the play’s opening setting (the Thracian valley), and the mythical home of the Muses.Footnote ⁵⁶

Returning to ‘Possente spirto’, we find that in addition to his errors in the creation of ethos and the application of logos, Orpheus is also unsuccessful in his attempt to move the passions of his judge through the use of pathos. This failure is illustrated, for example, in his choice to speak past his judge in the refutation of anticipated counter-arguments, addressing Eurydice instead: ‘Oh of all lights, my light most serene / if your eyes return to life / ah, who would deny the comforting of my pain?’Footnote ⁵⁷ Although the Ancients considered this technique to be effective for the address of a crowd of judges, it was considered inappropriate for the address of a single judge, especially for the judge whose mind, in the words of Cicero, ‘cannot be inflamed by ardent and vehement incitation’.Footnote ⁵⁸

Despite its secondary role in the successful execution of an oration, the use of style in these examples further illustrates the disparity between the effectiveness of the two speakers. Before turning to these contrasts in more detail, however, we should note a shared approach to the elocutio, found in the arrangement of poetic correspondences within the text, which emphasise key concepts such as La Musica’s descriptions of ‘sweet accents’ and ‘sonorous harmonies’, as well as Orpheus’s symmetrically placed references to the Inferno’s ‘blind air’ and ‘dark places’ (see Figs. 2a and 2b). This use of corresponding language illustrates the symmetrical quality of each oration, which in turn underscores one of the most common prescriptions regarding the performance of oratory, namely that the pacing and energy of oratorical speeches should take a clear performative shape, with the centre (again, the placement of arguments, or confirmatio) serving as its zenith.Footnote ⁵⁹

The contrast between the two speakers is illustrated in each orator’s execution of the elocutio (created through Striggio’s choice and arrangement of textual figures), in particular through the use of the ‘magnificent’ and ‘severe’ verbal styles. In keeping with the teachings of the Ancients, the opening line of the Prologue features the open vowels and soft, voiced consonants of the ‘magnificent’ style (‘Dal mio Permesso amato a voi ne vegno’). Additionally, the line is characterised by a generally balanced distribution of poetic syllables (seven plus five), and measured rhythmic patterns, found in a flowing sequence of alternating accentuation (‘Dal mio Permesso amato / a voi ne vegno’). The verbal style of Orpheus’s opening line, on the other hand, lacks this ‘magnificent’ quality, instead primarily featuring the unvoiced consonants and closed vowels of the ‘severe’ style (‘Possente spirto e formidabil Nume’; the full text of both orations is given in Figs. 2a and 2b). Although this use of the ‘middle’ style may have been intended to express the protagonist’s distress upon losing his beloved, it would nonetheless have been considered inappropriate for the address of his ‘sober’ judge.

Fig. 2a

Symmetrical verbal references from the Prologue.

Fig. 2b

Symmetrical verbal references from ‘Possente spirto’.

The dramatic crescendo of momentum and intensity to the centre of each orator’s dispositio is accompanied by an abandonment of the ‘magnificent’ style in favour of an increased frequency of closed vowels and harsh consonant sounds, as well as an irregularity of verbal cadence. Again, La Musica’s oration offers the more successful demonstration of this approach, as the closed vowels and harsh consonants are accompanied by verbal rhythms that offer a clear contrast to the gentle flow of the exordium and peroratio; this contrast is best exemplified in the final line of the confirmatio, which features several closed vowels, ending with a particularly harsh consonant sound (‘de la lira del ciel’). Orpheus creates a similar state of agitation in his central strophe, which culminates in a final line that includes a harsh consonant sound as well (‘ove già mai per uom mortal non vassi’). As in the opening of his oration, however, the protagonist’s use of gentle and harsh verbal sounds is somewhat muddled: although the opening clause contains a harsh consonant (già), it is set mostly in open vowels; the second clause, on the other hand, comprises open vowels almost exclusively, and no hard or harsh consonants (except for the long sibilant in the final word, vassi). In keeping with the arched shape described above, La Musica returns to the balanced cadential patterns of the exordium in the peroratio, along with the ‘magnificent’ verbal style. Orpheus uses the magnificent style in his peroratio, though he does not achieve the high frequency of gentle, liquid sounds of the corresponding strophe from the Prologue.

These contrasts continue as we move from the elocutio to the pronuntiatio (i.e., from Striggio’s text into Monteverdi’s setting). La Musica’s exordium matches the balanced, rhythmic pacing of the text, as the composer evenly distributes musical–temporal space between the lines of the opening strophe (three semibreves for the first line, two each for the second and third, and three for the fourth line). Orpheus also opens his oration with slow and deliberate tones, though his delivery of textual lines is uneven, owing to the unbalanced distribution of longer notes, over which the ornamented line features extensive musical flourishes (in order, the lines of Orpheus’s opening tercet is given over six, three and four semibreves).

As in Striggio’s text, Monteverdi creates a crescendo of momentum and intensity in the following two sections of the dispositio for both orators that reflects their varying levels of success. Orpheus’s use of melodic gestures in the confirmatio and narratio, for example, at times aligns with the verbal and dramatic character of the text, and at other times seem to disregard it. The circular nature of the arguments from his confirmatio, for example, is represented by musical lines whose temporal values are evenly divided between the antecedent and consequent phrases: the four phrases are given over two semibreves each, with the final phrase coming to rest on a third semibreve. As noted above, Orpheus’s opening statement achieves the opposite affect through the introduction of several long melismatic flourishes on a single syllable.Footnote ⁶⁰ La Musica successfully matches performative effect with textual character in the narratio and confirmatio by increasing intensity through the more frequent use of the dominant pitch and harmony, the musical enjambment of non-enjambed poetic lines, and by increasing the number of musical lines that feature rhythmic suspension. This final device is used most poignantly for the climactic melodic note of each strophe (such as the e’ that serves as the melodic climax of both the third and the fourth strophes (see Ex. 3a and 3b)). This climactic pitch is given its most rhythmically and harmonically dissonant placement at the climax of the oration (again, the close of the confirmatio), beginning on the final crotchet of the bar, tied to a crotchet in the following bar, and resolved by a leap of a fourth (though this leap likely would have been ‘softened’ through the use of ornamental passing tones).

Ex. 3a

Melodic climax from strophe 3 (confutatio) of the Prologue.

Ex. 3b

Melodic climax from strophe 4 (confutatio) of the Prologue.

Like Striggio, Monteverdi proceeds to the confutatio of both orations through a decrease from the violence and energy of the severe style. La Musica returns to the melodic, rhythmic and poetic regularity of the exordium, moving the orator into the background, and the subject of the oration – Orpheus and the drama – into the foreground. This transition is aided by a reduced number of variations in pitch order and rhythmic patterns from the exordium (compared to the narratio and confirmatio), and the use of only one musicopoetic enjambment, found at the end of the confutatio as La Musica transports the listener into the ‘immortal glory’ of the Thracian countryside. In keeping with Orpheus’s characterisation of the tortured lover, the protagonist’s musical retreat is not as smooth as La Musica’s, as he moves from the confirmatio to the confutatio through a musical enjambment of a non-enjambed poetic line over a leap of a minor sixth, an interval commonly associated with pathos (see Ex. 4).

Ex. 4

‘Possente spirto’, musical enjambment between the narratio and the confutation.

Following this pathetic expression, the restrained nature of Orpheus’s pronuntiatio within the confutatio appears to contradict the harsh verbal character of Striggio’s poetry. This ‘inverted’ expression, however, may be interpreted as a device through which the composer heightens the impact of the protagonist’s summary of his arguments with a display of quiet intensity. As suggested by several later commentators, this moment may also represent Orpheus’s realisation that the virtuosity of his performance has not moved Charon, for which reason the young orator adopts a comparatively modest, though still impassioned style.Footnote ⁶¹

It is Orpheus’s performative crescendo of momentum and intensity to the centre of his oration, however, that leads to his greatest failure as an orator, damaging his ethos, perverting his logos, and demonstrating the misapplication of his pathos. By presenting the arguments of the confirmatio (‘I am no longer living, since my dear spouse is deprived of life’, etc.) before the narratio’s establishment of undisputed facts (‘I am Orpheus, who follows in the footsteps of Eurydice’, etc.), he inverts the logical progression (logos) of the dispositio.Footnote ⁶² This disordering damages young orator’s ethos by placing his self-aggrandising statements, beginning with ‘I am Orpheus’, at the climactic centre of his speech, rather than the moral instruction that should have served as the justifications of his plea (Ex. 5a). The musical setting of this line displays the young orator’s misapplication of pathos by stretching these mere four syllables over the space of four semibreves which, as noted above, facilitates a high level of ornamentation. In fact, the ornamented line from the 1609 score demonstrates not only Orpheus’s tendency to virtuosic display, but also features the jagged rhythms, wide-ranging ambitus and cascading roulades commonly associated with the expression of pathos during this period. Such disparities between musical and textual rhythms are absent in La Musica’s self-indicative statement, again offering a distinct contrast to the protagonist’s immodest displays (Ex. 5b).

Ex. 5a

Orpheus’s self-deitic statement.

Ex. 5b

La Musica’s self-deitic statement.

Conclusion: Charon’s response, and the meaning of Orpheus’s failure

Charon responds to Orpheus’s oration by stating that the young singer has ‘flattered’ and ‘delighted’ his heart (Ben mi lusinga alquanto, dilettandomi il core). However, he fails to move Charon’s heart to pity, an emotion that is ‘unworthy of [his] dignity’ (and as noted by Anne MacNeil, an emotion that was considered inappropriate for the address of any male judge).Footnote ⁶³ Most importantly, Charon does not even mention the chief form of persuasion – moral instruction – perhaps offering an unspoken comment on Orpheus’s choice to use empty sophistry instead. As a result, the young orator perverts Cicero’s maxim by giving primary emphasis to musical and poetic delights, fuelled by his inappropriate attempt to move Charon’s heart to pity, all at the expense of his duty of moral instruction. This failure offers an unfortunate counterpoint to La Musica’s Prologue, which effectively instructs the listener on the subject of the protagonist and the drama. In the eyes of the Academy members, then, Orpheus’s musical exhibitionism would have been a detriment to his success as an orator in part because it lacked the modesty and balanced expression of La Musica’s Prologue, the latter demonstrating the proper use of the orator’s ‘living voice’. In keeping with the teachings of the Ancients, moreover, and as reflected in Guazzo’s writings and Baccusi’s oration, either performative style would be rendered ineffective if it was not founded upon sound moral instruction.

In this way, Orpheus exemplifies Cicero’s description of the foolish orator whose ‘greatest ambition … is to impress his audience with a high opinion of his eloquence’, and to ‘force the passion of the judge by a strong and spirited elocution’, and who, as a result, ‘can barely inform and amuse them’.Footnote ⁶⁴ Orpheus also falls prey to the youthful folly that Cicero refers to as ‘impertinence’, as he ‘[does] not discern what the occasion requires … or is ostentatious of himself, or is forgetful of the dignity … of those in whose presence he is’.Footnote ⁶⁵ It is Guazzo’s description of the speaker who ‘has a little sugar in his mouth’, however, that serves as the most apt characterisation of Striggio’s Orpheus: ‘[his] value appears to be golden, [but] upon comparison is found to be silver, or copper … flattering the ears too much … and we give the name of Orator to him who is nothing more than a prattler and an ignoramus’.Footnote ⁶⁶

According to Aristotle, the performance of oratory depicts the moral character of the orator, a sentiment echoed indirectly by Guazzo, who wrote that ‘the tongue is a mirror, and a portrait of the soul … [by which] we may know outwardly the quality of the man, and his ways’.Footnote ⁶⁷ In this light, Orpheus’s displays of pride offer an object lesson on a moral failing commonly associated with young men during this period, namely a tendency toward narcissism in the pursuit of personal glory. In the words of Castiglione, ‘among the many faults that we see in many of our princes nowadays, the greatest are ignorance and self-conceit’, the former exemplified in the ‘dark veil of ignorance’ represented by Orpheus’s lack of self-knowledge regarding the limitations of his ability and his art.Footnote ⁶⁸ It is perhaps for this reason that Renaissance commentators frequently associated the characters of Orpheus and Narcissus with one another, two youths who fail in their pursuit of glory because of excessive pride, the latter in his own beauty, and the former in the power of his song.Footnote ⁶⁹

In addition, the young orator’s shortcomings offer an object lesson on the subject of noble courtesy as well, as his virtuosic performance strays from the courtier’s highest goal of sprezzatura. Orpheus’s excessive display of musical and rhetorical style contradicts Castiglione’s admonition that, in the practice of all ‘pastimes’ (including music), the courtier should avoid ‘unnatural affectation … [which] stems from an excessive desire to appear very accomplished’.Footnote ⁷⁰ This sentiment is echoed by Guazzo, who states that with too much practice, or the display of too high a level of expertise, any ‘leisure’ activity ‘loses its name … so that a man cannot properly call it leisure’.Footnote ⁷¹ Consequently, Orpheus crosses from the realm of natural artfulness to unnatural artifice, a transgression frequently warned against by oratorical and dramaturgical commentators of both the Ancient and early modern periods.

Orpheus’s excessive ornamentation might furthermore have added an undesirable degree of feminisation to his dramaturgical persona.Footnote ⁷² On this subject, Quintilian states that although showy eloquence ‘may please … audiences by its effeminate and voluptuous charms, I absolutely refuse to regard it as eloquence at all: for it retains not the slightest trace of purity and virility in itself, not to say of these qualities in the speaker’.Footnote ⁷³ Bonnie Gordon suggests that such characterisations would not have been applied to the character of Orpheus, but rather that ‘the power ascribed to male voices related to an imagined orphic rhetorical fluency, which was distinct from ravishing pleasure’.Footnote ⁷⁴ In view of my reading of Striggio’s Orpheus, however, this may have been an exception to Gordon’s observation, serving instead as an example of what she refers to as ‘ornamentation [that] was deemed problematic [because] it appealed only to passion and not to reason’.Footnote ⁷⁵ In this case, the protagonist would serve as an object lesson on the most offensive state of being for men during this period, namely the ‘soft’, feminine man described in Il cortegiano, and reviled through the figure of the knight Rinaldo from Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata (XVI, 28–33), who succumbs to feminisation while in the company of the pagan sorceress Armida.

Based on the analysis of these two selections, we may conclude with some confidence that these representations of oratory (in terms of both their success and their failure) shed light upon the Academy’s philosophical ideals. Through these two ‘musical orations’, the educated listener would have perceived the expression of humanist philosophy regarding the primacy of moral instruction (docere), as well as both the importance and the limitation of an orator’s ‘moving’ and ‘delightful’ performance. In quintessentially ‘academic’ fashion, the former message would have been perceptible to both the Academy members and the Invaghiti’s ‘public’ guests, while the latter message would be comprehensible only to those cognoscenti who participated in lofty, academic discourses. In this way, these two oratorical specimens offered the allure of knowledge that is hidden from the ‘presumptuous plebians’, underscoring the work’s function as a private, academic conversatione.