The Four Seasons
A Novel of Vivaldi’s Venice
Laurel Corona
Contents
COVER
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
GLOSSARY
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: THE MARK OF THE PIETÀ ONE
TWO
THREE
PART TWO: A BOW FOR MADDALENA ROSSA FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
PART THREE: CHIARETTA TRIUMPHANS TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
PART FOUR: MASKS FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
PART FIVE: BLESSINGS NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
PART SIX: SEASONS TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MUSIC IN THE FOUR SEASONS
READING GROUP GUIDE
AN INTERVIEW WITH LAUREL CORONA
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
Italian pronunciations are for the most part close enough to English to be intuitive. Coro (KOH-roh), for example, is pronounced the way it would be if it were an English word. There are, however, a few exceptions that those who like to read aloud might want to note.
1. Ch and ci are the opposite of what they usually are in English. Thus, Chiaretta is pronounced “kee-ah-RET-tah,” andburchiello is pronounced “bur-kee-EL-loh.” On the other hand, cimento is pronounced “chee-MEN-toh.”
2. The letter g is tricky. In villegiatura and giubilata, it’s pronounced like the g in the English word gee. The sound of gh,as in ghetto, is pronounced as in the English word gate. The g in figlia and broglio is so nearly silent it can be ignored (FEE-lee-ah and BROH-lee-yoh). Gn is pronounced “nyee,” as in pugni (POO-nyee).
3. Most multisyllable words are pronounced with the emphasis on the second to last syllable ( cadenza is “kah-DEN-zah,” and Congregazione is “kohn-gray-gaht-zee-OH-nay”). An accent mark is used to identify stress on the last syllable, as in Pietà (pee-eh-TAH), Tomà (toh-MAH), and Girò ( jee-ROH).
4. Vowels are more carefully pronounced than in English, but the reader’s best guess is likely to be very close. More precise information can be found in Italian dictionaries.
5. The letter e on the end of a word is not silent, as in English, but pronounced like the letter a in say, as in ospedale (oh-spe-DAH-lay).
Pronunciations are included in the glossary for words that might cause difficulty or do not follow these rules.
GLOSSARY
Attiva Plural attive. Musician or singer in the second or later stages of training, performing as part of the choir or orchestra.
Avvogadori di Commun Group of noblemen responsible for registering patrician marriages in accordance with Venetian laws, protecting the bloodlines of the aristocracy.
Bauta Plural baute. Traditional combination of black hood, white mask, and black tricornered hat worn at Carnevale but also at other times to hide one’s identity.
Broglio Square connecting Piazza San Marco with the Venetian Lagoon, today commonly known as the Piazzetta.
Burchiello Plural burchielli. Small boat common on the waterways of Venice.
Ca’ Short for casa (house). Palatial home. The term is commonly used in Venice instead of the word palazzo.
Cadenza Complex and difficult solo, either written or improvised, inserted usually at the end of a piece of music to showcase a musician’s skill.
Cassone A trunk used to store clothing and household items.
Castrato Plural castrati. Male singer castrated before puberty in hopes of retaining the purity and high range of a boy’s singing voice while developing the lungs (and thus the volume) of a grown man’s.
Cavaliere servente Plural cavalieri serventi (kah-vah-lee-AIR-ee sair-VEN-tee). Platonic male friend and confidant who accompanies and performs personal services for a woman.
Cimento Test or trial.
Commissare (kohm-mee-SAH-reh). Executor of an estate.
Concerto Plural concerti. Orchestral composition in three movements, featuring a solo instrument or small group of instruments.
Congregazione The governing board of the Pietà.
Continuo Simple rhythmic background played by a cello, harpsichord, or other instrument(s) to help an orchestra keep the proper tempo without a conductor.
Coro Literally choir, but referring to both orchestra and singers at the Pietà.
Council of Ten Group selected through an elaborate process by the Grand Council of Venetian nobility to serve as the main governing board of the city for a limited period of time.
Daily office The prescribed order of prayers throughout the day. Mentioned in the text are Sext, Prime, None, Vespers, Lauds, and Compline.
Doge (DOHJ). Title given to the head of the Venetian Republic. The doge was elected by the Venetian Grand Council and served for life, with primarily ceremonial duties and little real power.
Felce (FEHL-say). Private cabin in the center of a gondola.
Ferro Silver ornament on the bow of a gondola.
Figlia Plural figlie (FEE-lee-eh). Literally daughter, used in the Pietà in the sense of ward.
Fondamento Plural fondamenti. Narrow sidewalk along smaller canals.
Frotta Territorial fight (see pugni).
Giubilata Plural giubilate. Honorary name by which a retiree of the coro was known.
Humors Four f luids (blood, phlegm, choler, and black bile) thought from ancient times to determine personality and health by their relative proportions in the body.
Impresario Manager and producer of operas.
Iniziata Plural iniziate. Girl in the first stage of musical training, before promotion to attiva.
Loggia (LOH-gee-ah). Covered open-air balcony.
Maestra (my-EH-stra). Plural maestre. Music mistress, used to delineate the highest level of female teachers, trainers, and supervisors of the figlie di coro. Sotto maestre were one step below.
Maestro (my-EH-stro). Music master, used in a variety of ways at the Pietà. The Maestro di Coro served as executive director of the coro. Under him were others, named according to their roles (Vivaldi, for example, was first maestro dal violino and later Maestro dei Concerti). To avoid confusion, I have capitalized only the highest ranking titles.
Maniera (mahn-ee-YAIR-ah). Literally manner, a music term used to describe study and practice of how one looks while performing.
Melisma Style of singing in which a number of notes are used for one syllable of a word.
Nobili Uomini Deputati (NOH-bee-lee WO-mee-nee deh-poo-TAH-tee). Group of three members of the Congregazione responsible for managing the music program of the Pietà.
Oratorio Opera-like musical composition performed without scenery, staging, or costumes.
Ospedale (oh-speh-DAHL-eh). Plural ospedali. Institution raising orphaned and abandoned children. The name, which means hospital, stems from these institutions’ origins as wings of hospitals.
Ostinato Short musical phrase repeated again and again.
Parlatorio Visiting room in a convent or ospedale, divided by a grille.
Pasticcio (pas-TEECH-chee-yoh). Musical work pasted together from a number of sources.
Peota Plural peote. Small boat common on the waterways of Venice.
Pianelle Wooden platform clogs occasionally worn by the noblewomen of Venice.
Piano nobile (pee YAH-noh NOH-bee-lay). The first f loor above the entry level of a Ven
etian casa, used primarily to receive and entertain guests.
Pizzicato Use of fingers rather than a bow to play a violin or similar instrument.
Portego Large multipurpose room stretching the entire length of a Venetian casa.
Prie-dieu (PREE-DYOO). Piece of furniture specifically for personal devotions, consisting of a place to kneel and a f lat, desklike space to read from a prayer book or to rest the hands or elbows while praying.
Priora (pry-OHR-ah.) Title of the highest ranking woman at the Pietà, equivalent to headmistress or abbess.
Pugni Literally fists, but referring to the combatants in traditional territorial fights (frotte) between the Nicolotti and Castellani factions of Venice.
Putta Plural putte. Cherub, commonly used as a name for a figlia di coro.
Recitative (reh-sih-tah-TEEV). Vocal passage in opera and oratorio representing sung speech.
Ridotto Gambling palace.
Rio Small canal.
Ripieno Enlargement of an orchestra or choir beyond its usual size.
Riva Wide street along the Grand Canal and lagoon.
Sala Room.
Sala d’oro Room on the piano nobile used as a business office, decorated richly in gold to show the wealth of the family.
Solfeggio (sohl-FEJ-jee-oh). Italian term for the exercises used to train the voice.
Sotto maestra (SOH-toh my-EH-strah). Assistant to the maestra.
Staccato Method of playing that sounds each note separately rather than linked together.
Tavoletta Plural tavolette. Poster advertising a concert.
Theorbo (thee-OHR-boh). Musical instrument with a very long double neck, allowing the bass strings to connect to a separate peg box at the top of the neck and the other strings to connect farther down.
Veduta Plural vedute. Painting of a Venetian scene or view.
Verità (vair-ee-TAH). Truth. The title of Vivaldi’s opera La Verità in Cimento is loosely translated as “Truth Put to the Test.”
Villegiatura (vil-leh-jee-ah-TOO-rah). Long period in the summer during which the wealthy of Venice went to live at their country villas.
Zecchini Small gold coins, also known as sequins, used in the Venetian Republic.
To Lynn, without whom I wouldn’t know what it means to have a sister.
And to Jim, for just about everything else.
PROLOGUE
1695
For the hour it took the baby’s wails to run their course through misery to fury to exhaustion, no one thought of anything but how God had favored Venice above all other cities. The radiance of the Blessed Virgin and all the saints emanated from one spot, the balcony over the altar of the chapel of the Pietà. From there, benediction flowed over the black-cloaked nobles seated on the scarred wooden benches to the ragged workers crammed in at the rear. It filtered out the door to the people spilling onto the walkway of the Riva degli Schiavoni, and to those straining to hear on small boats bobbing in the Venetian Lagoon.
For that hour, heaven opened and God spoke. Two dozen women in red and white dresses were his messengers. No counterpoint, however frantic or interlocked, was beyond the skill of the musicians of the Pietà, hidden behind an iron grille draped in black gauze. No subtlety of harmony was overlooked, no languid musical line ever rushed. If music were fabric, that of the figlie di coro would be brocade, lace, gossamer.
And the singer was the golden thread. “Qui habitat,” Michielina sang, “in adjutorio altissimi.” Each note floated over the listeners like a feather held aloft by the breath of angels. While many of those listening could not have understood the words, those whose ermine-trimmed cloaks spoke to their high position in life would have understood the Latin and perhaps noted the aptness of the psalm. If indeed there were a place on earth to glimpse the dwelling place of the Most High, it was surely the balcony of the Pietà.
When the last notes vanished, the figlie di coro disappeared into the secret places of the Pietà through a door in the rear of the balcony. The heavens closed, and the people began to spill out into the October twilight.
“Michielina is better than Paola at the Mendicanti, don’t you think?” A young nobleman opened a side door of the chapel. “After you,” he said, gesturing to his identically dressed companion.
“I prefer the Mendicanti,” his friend said. “But Michielina...” He inhaled sharply to show his appreciation. “She is very good. Perhaps a bit breathy at times but—”
“Ugly as a toad and walks with a limp, I’ve heard.”
“Ahh,” the first man said with a sigh, “such a tragedy. Perhaps we should be grateful we can’t see them.”
Before the second man could reply, what might have been mistaken for a sack of rags draped over a small packing crate in a doorway caught his attention. From within the box a loud intake of air was followed by a choking cough and a hoarse, exhausted wail.
As one of them moved forward to take a closer look, his boot touched the edge of the sack. It moved, and he saw a small arm appear from under one of its folds.
He bent over and jostled the shoulder of the child. “Little one,” he said. “Are you all right?” When he turned her over, she did not startle or wake but fell as limp as the dead. The upturned face was that of a three-year-old girl. Her eyes rolled toward her drooping lids, and her mouth fell open to reveal a row of perfect white teeth above a lolling tongue.
“Laudanum,” he said. “I think she’s had a dose.” He tried to pick her up in his arms but found she had been fastened to the crate by a thick silk cord from a dressing gown. “Someone didn’t want her to wander off and drown.”
There was also a baby, drenched with sweat from its prolonged screams but now snuffling and falling back asleep. Wedged under its head was an envelope on which the word “Pietà” had been written in a meticulous hand.
“Vying with Michielina for attention?” the second man said.
“No wonder no one heard you.” He stood up and began banging on the door.
In the corner of the small examination room off the infirmary ward of the Ospedale della Pietà, the little girl had been stripped down to her underclothing and was seated on top of the overturned crate while a wet nurse for the baby had been fetched from one of the surrounding homes. After the baby had fallen contented from the woman’s breast, she was laid on a long wooden table, bathed, and left to fall asleep.
Even in the dim light of the oil lamps, for by now night had fallen, the baby’s wrappings told the story that was undoubtedly contained within the unopened letter. The shawl in which she had been nestled was soft, honey-colored wool, with a sunburst pattern emblazoned in crimson and gold silk.
“Expensive,” one of the nurses said, holding it up to get a better look. She folded the shawl and placed it on the end of the table. “Get the book,” she said to a girl of about twelve standing beside her.
The girl went to a cabinet, brought out a large leather-bound register, and put it down next to the shawl, returning to the cabinet to bring the pen and ink.
“And put the iron in the fire,” the nurse ordered. She opened the envelope, and as she pulled out the letter, three gold coins fell from its folds. She moved closer to the lamp to examine them before putting them back in the envelope.
She turned to look at the girl. “I told you to put the iron in the fire.”
The girl’s eyes darted toward the small child seated on the crate before she turned away and fetched a metal object from a hook on the wall. As the nurse read to herself, the girl poked at the fire with the rod before leaving its tip at the edge of the coals.
“Just as I thought,” the nurse said, breaking the silence. She began to read aloud.
“God help me, I am abandoned by my patron, who says the baby is not his,” the letter read.
My delivery left me damaged in ways it is not seemly to speak of, and I dare not even show myself to those who once wished for nothing more than a chance to supplant him in my affections. For three years I have been able to keep my
daughter out of sight and under the care of my servants, to maintain that appearance of a carefree youth so important to those in my trade. I had intended to do the same with the infant, who was born three months ago, but I no longer know where I will live, or even if I will live much longer, having little money and no appeal to any but the coarsest of men.
I am plunged into the pit of grief by the decision I must make, and I pray you to understand that it is only because I cannot protect my children that I give them to you. I have named the older one Maddalena, in honor of the saint to whom I have prayed to intercede for my forgiveness and thus preserve my soul. She has already been baptized with that name. The baby has a way about her that brings brightness into my heart, and almost from the moment of her birth her eyes were the color of a clear sky. I have taken that as a portent of happiness for her in her life, and I pray you for that reason to baptize her with the name of the Virgin and call her Chiaretta.
The nurse picked up the pen and wrote the date in the left column of the register. “Maddalena,” she spoke aloud as she wrote.
“And Maria Chiaretta.”
She continued to read.
I have enclosed all the money I can part with, to help with the burden of finding a wet nurse who will also take in Maddalena, so they can remain together. I put my trust in the infinite mercy of God, who makes all things possible and hears the prayers of the fallen, and though I do not deserve or even dare hope to see my children again, I have also included a token, divided into three, so that if it pleases God that I may ever return for them I may know them, and they may have a means to know each other if circumstances pull them apart.
“Bring me the tokens,” the nurse said to the girl. “I need to describe them in the book.” She took the two pieces of ivory into her hand and strained to see the details in the lamplight. “An ivory hair comb,” she said, “broken into three pieces. Each girl has one end, with a carved flower. The mother’s piece will fit between, which is how she will prove who she is if she ever comes back for them.”
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