

Miniature by William Prewitt
Farinelli, the great superstar castrato singer was born on this day in 1705. He was one of the thousands of boys (maybe four thousand a year) subjected to the inhuman practice of castration, which was technically illegal in Italy, to preserve their voices. He was also one of the few who attained international fame. He was brought to England in 1733 by Handel, and became a sensation. Shortly after, still in his early 30s, he left to join the court of King Philip V of Spain, his singing having cured the monarch of his depression and did not sing in public again.
So what did he sound like? You can, if you poke around online, find a recording of Alessandro Moreschi, made in 1902. Moreschi was way past his prime, and the recording is pretty bad. He didn’t have an operatic voice and he sounds nervous and wobbly, although it is in its way impressive, even if only as a piece of history.
With the interest in HIP (historically-informed performance) there’s naturally a resurgence in the castrato repertoire. The amazing Vivica Genaux brought out a CD some years ago of Farinelli’s greatest hits. You can hear soundbites of Genaux and other singers, at Arias for Farinelli. It is very difficult virtuoso music, both in the vocal range and the demands it makes physically upon the singer.
Composer Johann Joachim Quantz commented:
Farinelli had a penetrating, full, rich, bright and well-modulated soprano voice, with a range at that time from the A below middle C to the D two octaves above middle C. … His intonation was pure, his trill beautiful, his breath control extraordinary and his throat very agile, so that he performed the widest intervals quickly and with the greatest ease and certainty.
Charles Burney said
The first note he sung was taken with such delicacy, swelled by minute degrees to such an amazing volume, and afterwards diminished in the same manner to a mere point, that it was applauded for full five minutes. After this he set off with such brilliancy and rapidity of execution, that it was difficult for the violins of those days to keep pace with him… [he] could hold his notes for such a long time that those who heard him believed that it was impossible to do so naturally. They believed he hid a special instrument which maintained the sound of his voice whilst he took another breath.
Burney was also impressed with Farinelli’s emotional impact:
Senesino had the part of a furious tyrant, and Farinelli that of an unfortunate hero in chains; but in the course of the first air, the captive so softened the heart of the tyrant, that Senesino, forgetting his stage-character, ran to Farinelli and embraced him in his own.
In the movie Farinelli, his voice was recreated by digitally morphing that of Ewa Mallas-Godlewska (soprano) and Derek Lee Ragin (countertenor).
In London shortly after his appearance, public taste changed. Opera seria, the lofty, formal style devoted to tales of mythological and classical characters simply became too silly to be taken seriously. John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera, incorporating popular song and starring rogues and tarts, became wildly popular. Handel gave up opera–even Farinelli couldn’t save that sinking ship–and devoted himself to writing oratorios. A new generation of composers transformed operas.
The occasional castrato did appear on the London stage, such as Giovanni Battista Velluti who sang in Meyerbeer’s Il Crociato in 1825, possibly the last opera written with a castrato role. But it was the last gasp.
Here’s more on Farinelli and the castrati:
Lack of testes gave castrato superstar headaches (New Scientist)
Singing in the pain (BBC News)
A tear in each note and a sigh in each breath (Georgian London)
BBC Documentary, Castrato (Part 1. The exhibit at the Handel Museum is no longer on show) If you are squeamish skip the first minute of Part 2. In fact, skip most of Part 2.
Farinelli excerpt, aria from Rinaldo by Handel.
I’d love to time travel and hear Farinelli sing. Who would you like to see perform?
I was going to write today about how, according to brainyhistory.com, on this day in 1820 tomatoes were proved to not be poisonous! A breakthrough even though ketchup had been on Regency tables for some time, Thomas Jefferson had cultivated them (surely not for the flowers?), and in South America people had been chowing down on them for centuries. However I’ve not found any supporting evidence for today being the day, so forget about that…
I expect you’ve read about Jane Austen’s ring coming up for auction. It’s been in the family for almost two centuries, going to her sister Cassandra on Jane’s death. Cassandra then gave it to her sister in law Eleanor (who married brother Henry), who childless, gave it to her niece Caroline who was the daughter of brother James. It makes me sad that this may be the one and only glimpse of her ring we’ll get unless (please, please) someone buys it and donates it to the Jane Austen’s House Museum in Chawton. Because otherwise what do you do with it? Wear it on special occasions and hope you don’t absentmindedly leave it somewhere (like in a public restroom over the sink)? Keep it in a safe and have dates with it where you open the door and gaze upon it? I just don’t get it.
The big news of the day is that I have three well-muscled young men in the house doing things for me. If you follow me on FB, which is generally very unrewarding, you’ll know that I’m undergoing a massive and exciting kitchen/downstairs of the house remodel (it’s a very small house). Today is granite day! Pics will come later. I’m keeping out of the way. It will be very spiffy.
And that’s about all that’s going on with me at the moment. Conspicuously short on writing news, you may notice although I’m reading–latest great read was The Private Life of William Shakespeare by Jude Morgan, one of my very favorite writers. What have you read recently and what do you think of the Austen ring auction? If you bought it, what would you do with it?
I am engaged in domestic matters, with a kitchen remodel, and I have some valuable advice for you all:
1. Do not wait 15 years to clean your vinyl blind.
2. If you do, do not clean them outside when there’s a heat index of 105.
3. If you want to have a truly depressing aesthetic experience, shop for light fixtures and dining chair pads.
On a more cheerful note, since it’s so hot here–and I was one of the lucky ones, I got my power back after only 36 hours, and while it was off had a long trip to Ikea and went to a performance of Mahler 3, as well as enjoyable clothing-optional-with-a-book moments at home–let’s all scream for ice cream and cooling summer drinks. This is an amended post recycled from a few years ago about the joys (for the rich) of Regency summer living:
Ice cream certainly wasn’t invented in the Regency, but it was very popular among those who could afford it–visit historicfood.com to check out recipes for this gorgeous collection of ice creams and water ices: in the back, royal cream ice, chocolate cream ice, burnt filbert cream ice and parmesan cream ice; in front, bergamot water ice and punch water ice. I’m guessing that the parmesan cream ice (and some of the others, too) must have been served as a savory accompaniment, to be expected when each remove would include items that nowadays we’d consider being strictly dessert.
Were ice cream cones used in the Regency? According to this illustration from 1807, and article at historicfood.com, they were.
The great houses made sure they would have plenty of ice by constructing an ice house–this is the interior of a brick-built Georgian ice house at Parlington Hall, Yorkshire, which measures a mighty 16 ft. in diameter and around 20 ft. deep.
Ice would be cut from local lakes or imported from countries such as Norway, and insulated with straw. The actual igloo-like design of the ice house, and its position in a shady spot on the grounds would aid in keeping the ice cool.
As for cool drinks, spruce beer was always a favorite. Made from spruce buds, its flavor could cover a whole range from citrus to pine–or possibly not. A reviewer I found the first time around bravely tested a modern brand and came to this conclusion:
If ever offered a bottle, save yourself the trouble and drink some paint thinner. It will taste the same, but you can wash your brushes with the remaining thinner you don’t drink. Spruce Beer would probably melt the bristles off. But it’s not all bad …there is a sweet buffer that does keep you from projectile vomiting.
Lemon barley water was a favorite, too, first manufactured by Robinson and Belville in 1823 in powder form, to be mixed with water to cure kidney complaints and fevers. It also aids in lactation, should you have the need, and Robinson’s lemon barley water is still the official drink of Wimbledon for players (although presumably not for that reason). Here’s a modern recipe from cuisine.com.
As for lemonade itself, here is a recipe from the seventeenth century from coquinaria.nl, and an experiment using Mrs. Beetons’ at vintagecookbooktrials.
I also looked around for some ginger beer recipes–ginger was readily available as it was a subsidiary crop in the sugar-producing islands and found this one at allrecipes.com which claims to date back to the Tudor era. One thing I love about it is that although the preparation time is relatively quick, the recipe is ready in 14 days and 30 minutes. Don’t forget those crucial 30 minutes!
What are your favorite summer drinks or ice cream flavors and do you make any yourself? I love historical food sites almost as much as ice cream and lemonade. Do you have any to recommend?
It’s the birthday of Josiah Wedgwood, born this day in 1730 (died January 3, 1795) the founder of Josiah Wedgwood & Sons Pottery, a company still in existence although it’s now owned by a US company. Here are the UK and US websites.
Now Josiah is a bit of a hero for me. He was smart, hardworking, came from humble beginnings and was an abolitionist. What’s not to love? He was also the grandfather of Charles Darwin. Yesss!
Also, according to Wikipedia:
Wedgwood is credited as the inventor of modern marketing, specifically direct mail, money-back guarantees, traveling salesmen, self-service, free delivery, buy one get one free, and illustrated catalogues.
And it was his marketing acumen that came up with the idea of a logo and tagline (Am I not a Man and a Brother?) for the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade. It became tremendously successful and was reproduced on pottery, jewelry, and other artefacts. (He probably didn’t actually design it himself, though.) As his friend and fellow abolitionist Thomas Clarkson said,
…ladies wore them in bracelets, and others had them fitted up in an ornamental manner as pins for their hair. At length the taste for wearing them became general, and thus fashion, which usually confines itself to worthless things, was seen for once in the honorable office of promoting the cause of justice, humanity and freedom…
He was interested in more than business or design, becoming involved with the science of pottery, and was a member of the Lunar Society of Birmingham, a group of businessmen, scientists and philosophers, so named because they liked to meet on the night of the full moon, thus allowing them more time for talk and less for travel. He was elected a member of the Royal Society after he invented the pyrometer, a device to measure the extremely high temperatures in kilns during firing.
I could, but I won’t, fill this entire post of pics of Wedgwood’s work although he considered this, the Portland vase, his greatest work. It was a copy of a Roman intaglio vase, made of glass. Here’s his (on the left) and the original (on the right).
Another thing I really love about Wedgwood is how he ties into so much that’s fascinating about the Georgian period. Sir William Hamilton, later husband of Emma, first brought the Portland vase to England. Mrs. Radcliffe’s father managed the Bath Wedgwood showroom and one of her uncles was a business partner of Josiah’s. There are the Darwin and abolitionist connections. Jane Austen owned some Wedgwood, as she wrote in a letter to Cassandra in 1811:
On Monday I had the pleasure of receiving, unpacking and approving our Wedgwood ware. It all came very safely and upon the whole is a good match, tho’ I think they might have allowed us rather larger leaves, especially in such a year of fine foliage as this. One is apt to suppose that the Woods about Birmingham must be blighted.
So did her brother Edward, and some of his china is on display at Jane’s home, the Chawton House Museum. For more about Austen and Wedgwood, visit this wonderful post at austenonly.com.
And for a sneak preview of the cover of my next book, Hidden Paradise, go to Facebook!
Do you own any Wedgwood? I have a pair of earrings. I don’t know whether I’d want to own a whole set of his famous designs. They might be a bit overpowering… What do you think?