1. From Range by David Epstein: 1 When Less of the Same Is More...
From Range by David Epstein: 1 When Less of the Same Is More ANYWHERE A TRAVELER
to seventeenth-century Venice turned an ear, they could hear music exploding from its
traditional bounds. Even the name of the musical era, "Baroque," is taken from a jewelers'
term to describe a pearl that was extravagantly large and unusually shaped. Instrumental
music—music that did not depend on words—underwent a complete revolution. Some of
the instruments were brand-new, like the piano; others were enhanced—violins made by
Antonio Stradivari would sell centuries later for millions of dollars. The modern system of
major and minor keys was created. Virtuosos, the original musical celebrities, were
anointed. Composers seized on their skill and wrote elaborate solos to push the boundaries
of the best players' abilities. The concerto was born—in which a virtuoso soloist plays back
and forth against an orchestra—and Venetian composer Antonio Vivaldi (known as il Prete
Rosso, the Red Priest, for his flame-red hair) became the form's undisputed champion. The
Four Seasons is as close to a pop hit as three-hundred-year-old music gets. (A mashup with
a song from Disney's Frozen has ninety million YouTube plays.) Vivaldi's creativity was
facilitated by a particular group of musicians who could learn new music quickly on a
staggering array of instruments. They drew emperors, kings, Epstein, David. Range, Ebook,
Penguin, 2021. princes, cardinals, and countesses from across Europe to be regaled by the
most innovative music of the time. They were the all-female cast known as the figlie del
coro, literally, "daughters of the choir." Leisure activities like horseback riding and field
sports were scarce in the floating city, so music bore the full weight of entertainment for its
citizens. The sounds of violins, flutes, horns, and voices spilled into the night from every
bobbing barge and gondola. And in a time and place seething with music, the figlie
dominated for a century. "Only in Venice," a prominent visitor wrote, "can one see these
musical prodigies." They were both ground zero of a musical revolution and an oddity.
Elsewhere, their instruments were reserved for men. "They sing like angels, play the violin,
the flute, the organ, the oboe, the cello, and the bassoon," an astonished French politician
remarked. "In short, no instrument is large enough to frighten them." Others were less
diplomatic. Aristocratic British writer Hester Thrale complained, "The sight of girls handling
the double bass, and blowing into the bassoon did not much please me." After all, "suitable
feminine instruments" were more along the lines of the harpsichord or musical glasses. The
figlie left the king of Sweden in awe. Literary rogue Casanova marveled at the standing-
room-only crowds. A dour French concert reviewer singled out a particular violinist: "She is
the first of her sex to challenge the success of our great artists." Even listeners not obviously
2. disposed to support the arts were moved. Francesco Coli described "angelic Sirens," who
exceeded "even the most ethereal of birds" and "threw open for listeners the doors of
Paradise." Especially surprising praise, perhaps, considering that Coli was the official book
censor for the Venetian Inquisition. The best figlie became Europe-wide celebrities, like
Anna Maria della Pietà. A German baron flatly declared her "the premier violinist in
Europe." The president of the parliament of Burgundy said she was "unsurpassed" even in
Paris. An expense report that Vivaldi recorded in 1712 shows that he spent twenty ducats
on a violin for sixteen-yearold Anna Maria, an engagement-ring-like sum for Vivaldi, who
made that much in four months. Among the hundreds of concertos Vivaldi wrote for the
figlie del coro are twenty-eight that survived in the "Anna Maria notebook." Bound in
leather and dyed Venetian scarlet, it bears Anna Maria's name in gold leaf calligraphy. The
concertos, written specifically to showcase her prowess, are filled with high-speed passages
that require different notes to be played on multiple strings at the same time. In 1716, Anna
Maria and the figlie were ordered by the Senate to intensify their musical work in an effort
to bring God's favor to the Venetian armies as they battled the Ottoman Empire on the
island of Corfu. (In that siege, the Venetian violin, and a well-timed storm, proved mightier
than the Turkish cannon.) Anna Maria was middle-aged in the 1740s, when Jean-Jacques
Rousseau came to visit. The rebel philosopher who would fuel the French Revolution was
also a composer. "I had brought with me from Paris the national prejudice against Italian
music," Rousseau wrote. And yet he declared that the music played by the figlie del coro
"has not its like, either in Italy, or the rest of the world." Rousseau had one problem, though,
that "drove me to despair." He could not see the women. They performed behind a thin
crepe hung in front of wrought-iron latticework grilles in elevated church balconies. They
could be heard, but only their silhouettes seen, tilting and swaying with the tides of the
music, like shadow pictures in a vaudeville stage set. The grilles "concealed from me the
angels of beauty," Rousseau wrote. "I could talk of nothing else." He talked about it so much
that he happened to talk about it with one of the figlie's important patrons. "If you are so
desirous to see those little girls," the man told Rousseau, "it will be an easy matter to satisfy
your wishes." Rousseau was so desirous. He pestered the man incessantly until he took him
to meet the musicians. And there, Rousseau, whose fearless writing would be banned and
burned before it fertilized the soil of democracy, grew anxious. "When we entered the salon
which confined these longed-for beauties," he wrote, "I felt an amorous trembling, which I
had never before experienced." The patron introduced the women, the siren prodigies
whose fame had spread like a grassfire through Europe—and Rousseau was stunned. • • •
There was Sophia—"horrid," Rousseau wrote. Cattina—"she had but one eye." Bettina —
"the smallpox had entirely disfigured her." "Scarcely one of them," according to Rousseau,
"was without some striking defect." A poem had recently been written about one of the best
singers: "Missing are the fingers of her left hand / Also absent is her left foot." An
accomplished instrumentalist was the "poor limping lady." Other guests left even less
considerate records. Like Rousseau, English visitor Lady Anna Miller was entranced by the
music and pleaded to see the women perform with no barrier hiding them. "My request was
granted," Miller wrote, "but when I entered I was seized with so violent a fit of laughter, that
I am surprised they had not driven me out again. . . . My eyes were struck with the sight of a
3. dozen or fourteen beldams ugly and old . . . these with several young girls." Miller changed
her mind about watching them play, "so much had the sight of the performers disgusted
me." The girls and women who delighted delicate ears had not lived delicate lives. Many of
their mothers worked in Venice's vibrant sex industry and contracted syphilis before they
had babies and dropped them off at the Ospedale della Pietà. The name literally means
"Hospital of Pity," but figuratively it was the House of Mercy, where the girls grew up and
learned music. It was the largest of four ospedali, charitable institutions in Venice founded
to ameliorate particular social ills. In the Pietà's case, the ill was that fatherless babies
(mostly girls) frequently ended up in the canals. Most of them would never know their
mothers. They were dropped off in the scaffetta, a drawer built into the outer wall of the
Pietà. Like the size tester for carry-on luggage at the airport, if a baby was small enough to
fit, the Pietà would raise her. The great Anna Maria was a representative example. Someone,
probably her mother, who was probably a prostitute, took baby Anna Maria to the doorstep
of the Pietà on the waterfront of Venice's St. Mark's Basin, along a bustling promenade. A
bell attached to the scaffetta alerted staff of each new arrival. Babies were frequently
delivered with a piece of fabric, a coin, ring, or some trinket left in the scaffetta as a form of
identification should anyone ever return to claim them. One mother left half of a brilliantly
illustrated weather chart, hoping one day to return with the other half. As with many of the
objects, and many of the girls, it remained forever in the Pietà. Like Anna Maria, most of the
foundlings would never know a blood relative, and so they were named for their home:
Anna Maria della Pietà—Anna Maria of the Pieta. An eighteenth-century roster lists Anna
Maria's de facto sisters: Adelaide della Pietà, Agata della Pietà, Ambrosina della Pietà, and
on and on, all the way through Violeta, Virginia, and Vittoria della Pietà. The ospedali were
public-private partnerships, each overseen by a volunteer board of upper-class Venetians.
The institutions were officially secular, but they were adjoined to churches, and life inside
ran according to quasi-monastic rules. Residents were separated according to age and
gender. Daily Mass was required before breakfast, and regular confession was expected.
Everyone, even children, worked constantly to keep the institution running. One day a year,
girls were allowed a trip to the countryside, chaperoned, of course. It was a rigid existence,
but there were benefits. The children were taught to read, write, and do arithmetic, as well
as vocational skills. Some became pharmacists for the residents, others laundered silk or
sewed ship sails that could be sold. The ospedali were fully functioning, self-contained
communities. Everyone was compensated for their work, and the Pietà had its own interest-
paying bank meant to help wards learn to manage their own money. Boys learned a trade or
joined the navy and left as teenagers. For girls, marriage was the primary route to
emancipation. Dowries were kept ready, but many wards stayed forever. As the ospedali
accrued instruments, music was added to the education of dozens of girls so that they could
play during religious ceremonies in the adjacent churches. After a plague in 1630 wiped out
one-third of the population, Venetians found themselves in an especially "penitential mood,"
as one historian put it. The musicians suddenly became more important. The ospedali
governors noticed that a lot more people were attending church, and that the institutional
endowments swelled with donations proportional to the quality of the girls' music. By the
eighteenth century, the governors were openly promoting the musicians for fund-raising.
4. Each Saturday and Sunday, concerts began before sunset. The church was so packed that
the Eucharist had to be moved. Visitors were still welcome for free, of course, but if a guest
wanted to sit, ospedali staff were happy to rent out chairs. Once the indoor space was full,
listeners crowded outside windows, or paused their gondolas in the basin outside.
Foundlings became an economic engine not just sustaining the social welfare system in
Venice, but drawing tourists from abroad. Entertainment and penitence mixed in amusing
ways. Audience members were not allowed to applaud in church, so after the final note they
coughed and hemmed and scraped their feet and blew their noses in admiration. The
ospedali commissioned composers for original works. Over one six-year period, Vivaldi
wrote 140 concertos exclusively for the Pietà musicians. A teaching system evolved, where
the older figlie taught the younger, and the younger the beginners. They held multiple
jobs—Anna Maria was a teacher and copyist—and yet they produced star after virtuoso
star. After Anna Maria, her soloist successor, Chiara della Pietà, was hailed as the greatest
violinist in all of Europe. It all raises the question: Just what magical training mechanism
was deployed to transform the orphan foundlings of the Venetian sex industry, who but for
the grace of charity would have died in the city's canals, into the world's original
international rock stars?
First read above essay then follow the instructions below
As we discussed in class, the society in Venice during the 1600's was one where marriage
amongst the ruling class became unpopular and in many ways discouraged. But humans
generally don't enjoy celibacy, and so a thriving sex industry filled the gap. Of course, birth
control was not readily available, so many women had children that they could not afford to
raise and whose fathers may or may not have acknowledged them.
Four orphanages (Ospedale della Pietà) opened in Venice — places where these unwanted
children could grow up. Attached is a short reading about the Ospedale della Pietà, where
Antonio Vivaldi worked and taught. Vivaldi, like our friend Monteverdi a generation before,
lived and worked in Venice. And while some of the prejudice against marriage amongst the
noble class may have improved in Vivaldi's lifetime (1678 -1741) there were still plenty of
illegitimate children to fill up these orphanages.
Attached is a small portion of Chapter 3 from David Epstein's book 'Range'. This excellent
book actual focuses on the problems of specialization at young ages, in both sports and the
arts. The part I have attached is all about Vivaldi's work and students at the Ospedali.
After reading this selection (about 8 pages) write a short paper responding to the one or
more of the following prompts:
1) Instrumental music is an art form that is all about what you hear, but, as a rule, our
modern society is very visually oriented. How important is it to you to see an artist, and
how might their appearance influence your feelings about their performance?
2) These women were celebrated as great artists, despite being from the lowest wrung of
society. Remember that Venice was a highly structured society. The ruling class and the
5. peasants didn't mix — at least not officially. Can you see any parallels in our 21st Century
society? If so, do use specific examples.
3) There are politicians and Anti-abortion advocates, primarily in the southern US, who
have promoted the idea of these "adoption drawers" as a practical solution for unwanted
pregnancies. They use the Pieta's as their example that this works. Reading about the lives
of these women, do you think they are right or wrong?
D
