Famous castrato not disgusting: an apology

Thanks to colleague Michael for sending over this great list of sound recordings from listverse.com. I mentioned one of them on the post about Lord Haw-Haw below, and if you've never heard her I'd also recommend the Les Dawson of sopranos, Florence Foster Jenkins.

Another soprano on the list, and not a lot closer to the notes, is Alessandro Moreschi, "the last castrato" and supposedly the only one who was recorded for posterity. The business of emasculating boys to keep their voices high was illegal by the time sound recording came along and there's some dispute about whether Moreschi was deliberately castrated or had some accident as a child. Whatever, he had a pretty excruciating voice, as you can hear, but you can still get a clear idea of what a strange sound it was.

The heyday of the castrati was the second half of the eighteenth century. By 1825, when a new Italian opera, Il Crociato in Egitto, came to London, they were pretty much on the way out, but its star, Giovanni Batista Velluti was an international mega-celebrity and London opera-goers were agog to see him.

The Times was scandalised. In probably the most brutal preview in theatrical history, the newspaper thundered against the sponsors of the tour, and Velluti himself:

... the manly British public, and the pure British fair, [should be] spared the disgust of such an appearance as that of Velluti upon any theatre of this metropolis. His shameless patrons have dared to insult, not only the British nation, but even humanity itself, by thrusting forward this non-creature upon the stage. But Velluti is to sing - if those dire screams can be called singing, which proceed from a living being that is neither human nor even brute ...

The first-night review was hardly better, a hilarious piece of jingoism:

In the pit we observed many Italians who, during the evening with, as we think, very bad taste, applauded him, whether he sang well or ill - most vehemently determined, we suppose, that Italian customs, however humiliating or degrading, ought to be supported by the sons of Italy when in a foreign land.

And not just the Italians; anyone who'd been on the Grand Tour was tainted:

Lords and knights, and ladies fair, assembled to do homage to this representative of the epicene gender. Those high and, no doubt, honourable personages, many of whom have passed a considerable portion of their lives in Italy, far from their own sturdy, rough-toned peasantry, may delight in such forced fruits, such costly exotics but, nurture them as they may, they never will suit the unsophisticated palate of that people who for years fought the battles of Europe, and came from the contest victorious

... Amongst those who were most prominent in supporting Velluti we observed the Duke of Wellington ... and a lady for whom we feel too much compassion to mention her name.

The singer comes off slightly better than the audience, but not much:

How shall we describe his voice? It is the most unequal, as well as the most unnatural, that we ever heard, and we desire not ... ever to hear it again. It has the shrillness of a woman's voice, but not the sweetness. At times it burst upon us with all the discordance of a peacock's scream, or that of a superannuated lady scolding her servants; at other times his notes were sweet, and soft, and flexible. His style of singing is highly scientific, his running passages, if it were not for a certain harshness which accompanies several of his notes, would be perfect; his cadences are delicate and expressive.

Next day, the boot went in to the promoters again for corrupting the British:

It was disgusting to see English women applauding him ... and we are the more sorry for such an exhibition, as we were told that the house was filled with that class which we had always thought the most pure in England - the tradespeople. Many, particularly in the pit, might be seen just as they had served in the shop - the upper part of their persons well-dressed, but with dirty and coarse shoes and stockings below.

Velluti came in for some sympathy, but the message was the same. He should never be allowed out in public:

There is no degree of compassion, however extreme or acute, of which he is not the fit object, but he should retire from public view - the sight of him is all indecency ... None of the Royal Family, we believe, were present at the exhibition.

But there was no competing with Velluti's popularity. His good looks, decent personality and striking voice completely won the hearts of Londoners, and The Times was starting to look seriously out of touch. On the closing night, the newspaper ate its words in what must be one of the most craven apologies of its history.

As we have been accused of unbecoming harshness towards Velluti by our efforts - our hearty efforts, we admit - to prevent altogether his appearance before an English audience, we may be allowed, perhaps, to take this occasion of saying one word upon the subject.

Quite a few words actually:

To those journalists with whom it is a daily business to abuse and misrepresent The Times, either from envy of the pre-eminence by which they have been themselves overshadowed, or from a hope of being raised into consequence by our indignant notice - to them we say nothing: in fortune and character they are equally desperate, and equally beneath our contempt. But to our readers ...

... etc, etc. The gist is, of course we didn't mean to be mean to this immensely talented and charming singer; when we called him disgusting, it was the practise of castration, that beastly foreign habit, that we were talking about, not him, and if we were misunderstood at all we're ever so sorry.

If, in our indignation at the absurd and abominable system, some expressions escaped us which appeared to be aimed at the unfortunate victim himself; we repeat most emphatically that they never were so intended: and if we have wounded Velluti's personal feelings, let that unoffending and estimable person assure himself of our deep sympathy and our unfeigned regret.

What we really meant to say was that it was Velluti's very popularity that was the problem; with English audiences creating such a demand for what had been a dying phenomenon, no Italian boy would be safe. But as it happened, musical fashion was changing and the era of the great operatic tenors was about to take off. It was the composers who killed off castration, not a couple of fulminating Times leaders.   

Comments

[Villan]

Hilarious. Simon Cowell would be proud of some of the invective there.

[Persephone Judson]

Most amused by your article - but I think there are perhaps some current day equivalents on TV and radio who likewise have voices like
"a peacock's scream, or that of a superannuated lady scolding her servants".
I shan't say who they are - but surely they are not castrati - though perhaps it mign't be a bad idea....

[John R.Parish]

Thank you for an enlightining article on a subject that is little-known in states