full view of the audience, the musicians are made to appear in the middle of the stage, thanks to the help of machinery; this was seen in the marvellous staging ordered by Duke Alfonso for the performances of his comedies (or tragedies). It is also possible to have the musicians behind the stage, invisible to the audience, who nevertheless can hear them; this is a much easier process, but the other is more pleasing, not to say more wonderful, especially if the musicians are dressed in keeping with the play enacted.

It is certain that in these passages Cintio was alluding to musical interludes introduced during theatrical performances of his day, and here can be traced some of the precursory signs of the musical drama.

One of the best histories of seventeenth-century music is a modern selection of prefaces collected from the works of the most noted musicians of that century by Angelo Solerti, and published under the title of "Origini del Melodramma." Besides the very important preface of Emilio de' Cavalieri to his "Rappresentatione di anima et di corpo" there are a great many others by Caccini, by Peri, by Marco da Gagliano, etc. This collection of prefaces, considered as a whole, gives a very clear idea of the musical aspirations of a century which saw the rise of the musical drama and its supremacy over all other forms of musical activity.

To reproduce every reference to music to be found in the literary works of the eighteenth century would be wishing to emulate Ambros; but four big volumes as long as his own would not suffice.

As early as the eighteenth century in Italy, though other musical forms were not yet forsaken, the musical drama had become the centre of interest and the object of most musical activities; it was discussed and talked about in all the salons and in every rank of society, and it incurred the complete disapproval of all writers imbued with classicism.

Abbot Pietro Chiari, in his "Secolo Corrente" (1783; in the seventh dialogue of the series, one between a Lady and Gentleman), gives a vivid picture of the utmost value to whomsoever wishes to know the real history of the musical drama; here the musical world of the eighteenth century lives and pulsates, and far more so than in any of the pages of books written solely and specially on music. The gossip and the backbiting of this Lady and Gentleman reveal the beginning of a decadence that musicians, unable to understand, tried their best to mask. We find herein

the Dancer who "hops lamely," the Virtuosa of Music (the term Virtuosa of Music was used in the eighteenth century to designate the woman singer who sang the principal part) who is unable to sing true, the all-too accommodating impresario. In such records as these can be studied the importance of those conditions, harmful to artistic creation, that arose during the eighteenth century, but that are never revealed in the pages of any history of music:

Gentleman: The little company of four people that we met yesterday evening on our walk has been staying, I have heard since, at the country house of Count N. N., who is a patron of all arts and protector of theatrical people of note. I believe you noticed that one of the ladies was a Virtuosa of Music and the other a Dancer, the latter being the favourite The youngest of the men is the First Singer, who, according to the rules of the theatre, must woo the Virtuosa of Music. The other was the Impresario, who must always be in the good books of the Patron and, if need be, know how to obtain pecuniary help from him.

Lady:

I know that these people give themselves the airs of wouldbe ladies and that the Dancer is eager to play the leading part. They are typical theatrical people, made on purpose by nature, not only to amuse the world with their stage antics, but to entertain by the artificiality of their ways and manners, ever the same with all of them.

Gentleman: How can you expect them to differ one from another when their profession is the same? Ever since public performances have existed in the world, whether those taking part have been engaged on their merit, or because they needed employment, or because of their special genius, they have always been of lowly extraction, of vulgar manners and nature, without real education, and capable of anything, but incapable of blushing. In a word, one need but say that they voluntarily adopt a way of life that must lead them to play the fool for the sake of gain and for the amusement of the idle who have money to waste. Nothing worse can be said of them than that they take everything for granted, and that, unabashed, they glory in their shame. Without doubt the public performances of our own century are far finer in comparison than those of the days of antiquity. In our theatres, nowadays, decency, good manners, harmony and agreeable diversion are to be found. The actors of to-day, however, are no better than their predecessors. I too have always found, just as you have, that the characteristics of stage people are very similar; by which I mean that they are great talkers without having any eloquence, presumptuous without any veracity, envious without any moderation, and wasters without any money.

Lady:

Yesterday evening those four were flinging their gold away at the same rate as their words. When they were

all together they praised each other to the skies, but behind each other's backs they ridiculed one another. They wished to make us believe they were masters of the art of dance and song, but the Dancer hopped lamely, and the Virtuosa of Music, even when she was only humming, could not keep in tune.

Gentleman: You can well imagine how it is they depend on their Patron as a building relies on a prop in order not to collapse. In the days before music and the ballet were introduced on the stage in Europe, there were only skilled actors of experience and renown.

Lady:

At the beginning of our century, what were the ballets on our stage? At the most a couple or so of very ordinary dancers took the place of the fifty or sixty dancers required to-day for the production of a ballet at one of our best theatres.

Gentleman: I have actually, in Paris, seen as many as a hundred couples dancing with incomparable skill on the same stage. Nowadays there are more fanatics of the ballet than of song, and do you know, Madam, the reason why?

Lady:

Because we can judge agile legs with the sole help of our eyes, while the ability of the most agile voice needs to be judged by something more than the ear alone. Most of us can appreciate the cleverness and value of a ballet, but few of us can understand the art of modern music, for among the great number who will hear the superficial harmony very few will be able to detect the variations of its colour.

Gentleman: That is so, and probably on this account there always were and still are a great many more celebrated dancers than there have been, or are now, very great singers; and how many mediocre singers abound on our stage to-day! Three or four centuries ago there was no vocal music at the more important performances; but instrumental music, however imperfect its state, had been held in high repute from the remotest times, even in days when musical instruments were very few..

Lady:

And how is it that the Greeks could relate so many legends about Orpheus's lyre, even going so far as to place it among the stars, and send it to the depths of hell to be played by Orpheus when he went to recover his beautiful Eurydice? In those ancient days they had not the same idea of music as we have, and by reason of being a people given to exaggeration and fables they presumed that we, as their descendants, would be credulous enough to trust their fallacious evidence.

Gentleman: I do not deny that good music, be it instrumental or vocal, has great power over the human body and soul and can affect and alter the feelings. I have seen and experienced a thousand times the important changes that can be brought about by music, but I cannot believe that the rough

Lady:

and uncultured music of the ancients could operate such miracles...

Well, if our century has nothing but its delightful and numerous musical performances, for this alone it must be deemed superior to the days of old, when good music was rare, while we have a superabundance of it.

Gentleman: Add, Madam, especially in Italy, most enlightened of all countries of Europe. Though I know that France professes and claims to be superior to us in Music; nowadays, many learned volumes have been written for and against this claim, but French musical taste is so different from ours that I am convinced it is impossible to make an exact comparison. When I was in Paris, I could never reconcile myself to the gaiety and the pathos of French music. Our Italian music is so loved in Paris that every year there are Italian companies who occupy the theatres there and who make a fortune of money; whereas here, if the work of the finest French musician were given at one of our theatres, no one in the audience would wait to see the end of it, and thus, if the decision were to rest with the voice of the people, it would be in favour of the supremacy of Italy... Did you observe last night how expert the Dancer and the Virtuosa of Music were in the art of praise, whilst really hating one another? And what was your opinion of the all-too obliging Impresario?

Lady:

A first-class knave who, in spite of his charming manners, would strip me of all I had were he to meet me in the street, and have a chance to do so. The First Singer was most polite with us, and he discreetly withdrew that we might better talk to his ladylove.

Gentleman: Yet he would be only too willing to escort her to my house and share with her the reward of such a visit.

Lady: And these people would make us believe they can love? Gentleman: Madam, in their current language they make use of the word love, as they understand it in their profession. It occurs to me that from discussing public performances we have come to discussing the actors themselves.

Lady:

I am curious to know if these people are capable of human passions when I see them making use of words without realizing the full force of their meaning.

Gentleman: By dint of habit, they adopt such a cloak of deceit that they cannot distinguish whether they love or hate in makebelieve or in earnest. The actresses, more especially those who sing, become so accustomed to dress up as Queens and Princesses to represent those parts on the stage; that when they have doffed their stage attire of queens they are nevertheless unable to lay aside their royal haughtiness, particularly in their dealings with servants. All their plays, whether sad or gay, treat mainly of love and disdain, consequently the actors will love and hate in stage-fashion without heaving a sigh for genuine love or shedding the

Lady:

smallest drop of blood in hate.... Between Virtuosa of Music and Singer and between a Dancing couple there must be, according to inviolable laws sanctioned by custom, a demonstration of lovemaking in public when they are to be seen together. Once they are four paces apart, do you imagine that they care a rap for one another?

Would you help me solve a doubt which remains in my mind concerning the performances of our own day? Are they to be considered beneficial or detrimental in their effects on the young, not alone in Italy, but also in other countries? Gentleman: That question is older than my own great-grandfather.

Lady:

Music predominates with us and there is no doubt that it softens and improves all human feelings. It is true that in Italy, in order to enjoy hearing a fine singer occasionally to be found in opera, one is obliged to undergo listening to half a dozen who will sing out of tune and torment our ears for a couple of hours on end. However, there is always the help of fine music, the ability of skilled masters, the pace of the instrumental music, that conceal in part, and at least lessen, the faultiness so common with our fashionable Virtuosi, whose connection with virtue exists only in the name. The musical modern stage is hampered by another disadvantage under which labour our most noted musicians: the words are not usually suited to the sonorities of our modern music, and one might think that the poets of our drama of to-day do not know that music and poetry are sisters; but then, there are cobblers even among those who write for the theatre to-day.

If this were only different, Italian music would be held in higher repute among the other theatres of Europe. Gentleman: In spite of all the advantages of Italian as a language, our musicians constantly complain of their librettists. In a general way they are right, but nevertheless there are some among the musicians who are hard to please, they almost require that the words should sing alone in order not to have to rack their brains for a note of music. To conclude, every one who is connected with the theatre seems to partake of the theatrical, and become exaggerated, bombastic and absurd, so that no mistake should be made as to what profession they belong; nevertheless, in spite of all this, our modern theatre and our performances are to be preferred to those of former centuries.

Carlo Goldoni, in his memoirs, describes an evening party in the house of the dancer Grossatesta in Milan, where he had gone to read to Count Prata, one of the "directors of public performances," his tragedy for music called "Amalassunta." While engaged in his reading, he had to submit to impertinent interruptions from the singer Cafarelli and from a male soprano, and having