Alessandro Moreschi And The Castrato Singers Of Rome
Updated: Oct 20
On the 21st of April 1922, the curtain fell on a centuries-old Western musical tradition with the passing of Alessandro Moreschi, the final torchbearer of a unique vocal lineage dating back over five centuries.
A youthful Alessandro Moreschi, depicted in the image above singing in his early years, belonged to the rarefied echelons of castrati, possessing a voice type acquired through the antiquated practice of castration before a boy soprano's maturation into puberty. Such vocalists, while occasionally arising from endocrinological anomalies impeding typical pubescent development, primarily stemmed from deliberate surgical intervention.
Moreschi distinguished himself as the sole surviving castrato to immortalise the quintessential essence of this venerable tradition through solo recordings in the latter half of the 19th century. His artistry, encapsulating the ethereal beauty and technical finesse intrinsic to the castrato vocal timbre, stands as a poignant testament to a bygone era of musical expression.
What's a Castrato?
In the realm of vocal performance, the castrato represents a distinctive male singing voice prevalent in classical music, notable for its approximate equivalence in range to that of a female soprano.
The practice of castration prior to puberty effectively stops the physiological changes that typically occur during this developmental stage, thereby preserving the prepubescent vocal range and qualities. Consequently, castrati exhibit a unique trajectory of vocal development characterised by the retention of their youthful vocal characteristics alongside subsequent adaptations.
Physiologically, the absence of testosterone engenders notable alterations in the castrato's physical form. Limb elongation, particularly evident in the arms and legs, and elongation of the ribcage contribute to enhanced lung capacity, consequently affording increased vocal power.
Moreover, the vocal cords themselves maintain their juvenile dimensions, facilitating exceptional vocal flexibility. This characteristic endows the castrato's upper register with a fluty, falsetto-like timbre, imbuing their performances with a singularly ethereal quality.
How the Castrato sounded
While it is plausible that the choir of the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul boasted castrati as early as the 9th century, explicit references to them in writings on Western classical music do not emerge until the mid-16th century.
Especial demand for castrati in sacred music ensued following the Pauline decree of "let women keep silent in churches" (Corinthians I 14:34). References to these singers in historical texts often take various forms, some of which ambiguously denote true castrati as opposed to male falsettists.
Luigi Dentice's Due Dialoghi della Musica of 1533 notably introduces the term "soprano maschino" (male soprano), while two years later, Cardinal Ippolito II d'Este corresponded with the Duke of Mantua, referencing his interest in the "cantoretti" – a term denoting 'little singers', likely alluding to castrati.
Historical records provide compelling evidence of the presence of castrati in the Sistine Chapel choir as early as 1558, if not earlier. Hernando Bustamante, also known as Ferdinandus or Ernando, emerges as a prominent figure – a Spanish soprano presumed to be a castrato of considerable talent. Bustamante's name appears in the salary registers of the Duke of Ferrara's chapel in 1558, and he continued to be documented there until at least 1609.
However, he frequently incurred fines for performing elsewhere, notably outside the confines of the papal chapel, particularly in the service of the Duke of Ferrara, where he was joined by his brother Domenico. Substantial evidence suggests that both siblings were castrati, thereby establishing Hernando as the first renowned "star" castrato. By 1589, Hernando Bustamante had ascended to become the highest-paid singer in Ferrara.
Simultaneously, in 1589, Pope Sixtus V orchestrated the reorganization of St. Peter's choir to specifically incorporate castrati. In the realm of opera, indications suggest that roles such as Speranza – and even Euridice – in Monteverdi's Orfeo (1607) were occasionally entrusted to castrati rather than female voices.
Furthermore, it became customary for "normal" male vocal roles to be assumed by castrati, a practice that endured until the late 18th century. For composers striving to craft successful operas, the inclusion of a castrato role became imperative. Esteemed castrato singers like Farinelli and Senesino commanded exorbitant fees and enjoyed adulation akin to that accorded to contemporary pop or film stars.
Regrettably, the physical ramifications of pre-pubescent castration often manifested in ungainliness on stage. As critic Roger Pickering lamented in his 1755 work, Reflections Upon Theatrical Expression in Tragedy: "Farinelli drew everybody to the Haymarket. What a Pipe! What Modulation! What Ecstasy to the Ear!... What Offense to the Eye."
Operation Castrato
The castration process claimed the lives of some young boys, as lethal doses of pain-relieving opioids were inadvertently administered to mitigate the intense discomfort endured during and immediately following the procedure.
Moreover, accidental application of excessive pressure to the carotid artery, intended to induce unconsciousness for surgery, occasionally resulted in fatal outcomes. Noted historian and composer Charles Burney, writing in the 18th century, recounted his fruitless quest for information regarding the primary locations where boys underwent castration for singing purposes:
"I enquired throughout Italy at what place boys were chiefly qualified for singing by castration, but could get no certain intelligence. I was told at Milan that it was at Venice; at Venice that it was at Bologna; but at Bologna the fact was denied, and I was referred to Florence; from Florence to Rome, and from Rome I was sent to Naples... it is said that there are shops in Naples with this inscription: 'QUI SI CASTRANO RAGAZZI', but I was utterly unable to see or hear of any such shops during my residence in that city."
The last of the Castrati
As the 19th century dawned, the allure of castrati in opera waned, marking a shift in musical tastes. Following Italy's unification in 1861, the practice of 'eviration' (castration) was officially outlawed, though clandestine operations persisted.
Moreover, Pope Leo XIII's decree in 1878 prohibited the church from recruiting new castrati, further diminishing demand. By 1898, a photograph of the Sistine Choir revealed a mere six remaining castrati, including their director, Domenico Mustafa.
Mustafa's own castration occurred following a childhood pig bite, yet he garnered renown as a singer of Handel and a composer. Notably, he nearly shaped a significant Wagnerian role; in 1882, Wagner contemplated casting a castrato as Klingsor in Parsifal, but abandoned the idea upon consulting Mustafa. The character's emasculation post-puberty necessitated a normal male vocal range.
In a remarkable turn, Mustafa imparted his expertise to soprano Emma Calvé, teaching her the ethereal 'fourth voice' in alt. The definitive end arrived on November 22, 1903 – St. Cecilia's Day – when Pope Pius X decreed that "whenever... it is desirable to employ the high voices of soprano and contraltos, these parts must be taken by boys..."
Despite this, a few castrati lingered, fulfilling their tenure at the Sistine Chapel until retirement, with only one leaving behind a solo recorded legacy – Alessandro Moreschi.
Born in Monte Compatri in November 1858, Alessandro Moreschi's origin story suggests that he underwent castration purportedly to remedy an inguinal hernia, a condition for which castration was erroneously believed to be a cure during the 19th century.
However, considering his early recognition as a talented boy soprano in the chapel of the Madonna del Castagno, it is more plausible that Moreschi underwent castration at a later age, likely around seven or eight, as a deliberate measure to preserve his castrato voice.
The guise of an 'inguinal hernia' was a common pretext used for talented boy sopranos, as highlighted by Martha Feldman in The Castrato: Reflections on Natures and Kinds.
Notably, talent scouts routinely scoured for promising young voices for prestigious roles. Moreschi's vocal abilities had attracted the attention of Nazareno Rosati, the scout for the Sistine Chapel Choir. Rosati, himself a former choir member, facilitated Moreschi's journey to Rome to join the esteemed choir around the age of 12, in 1870.
Under the tutelage of composer and organist Gaetano Capocci, Alessandro Moreschi received his musical education at the scuola di San Salvatore in Lauro, situated on the eponymous piazza. A mere three years later, Moreschi ascended to the prestigious role of First Soprano at the St. John Lateran Papal basilica.
Beyond his ecclesiastical duties, Moreschi graced the salons of Roman high society with his mellifluous voice. These salons, the exclusive venues outside the churches where the Pope's singers performed, enjoyed immense popularity. Moreschi's rendition of the coloratura role of the Seraph in Beethoven's Christus am Olberge in 1883 earned him the appellation by which he would be widely celebrated - l'Angelo di Roma (The Angel of Rome).
Subsequently, following a rigorous audition before members of the Sistine Chapel Choir, Moreschi secured the esteemed position of First Soprano, a role he would fulfill with distinction for the ensuing three decades.
Alessandro and the Sistine Choir
The Sistine Chapel Choir boasted renowned renditions of Allegri's Miserere, a composition dating back to the 1630s, most plausibly 1638. Veiled in mystique, the piece's performance traditions and embellishments remained largely unwritten well into the 19th century.
In its early years, the transcription of the Miserere was strictly prohibited, safeguarding its oral tradition within the confines of the choir. Only three sanctioned written copies existed when a 14-year-old Mozart visited Rome and serendipitously encountered the Miserere during a Wednesday service.
Initially dismissed as mere folklore, Mozart's feat of transcribing the piece after a single hearing finds credence in family correspondence. He subsequently gifted a copy to British historian Charles Burney, who transported it to London for publication in 1771.
Additional transcriptions, including those by Mendelssohn and Liszt, emerged alongside various 18th and 19th-century sources. Of note is Pietro Alfieri's 1840 edition, which preserves the standard ornamentations of the Sistine Chapel Choir.
Recognising the need for a soprano capable of navigating the composition's demanding tessitura, Domenico Mustafa sought a replacement. Alessandro Moreschi emerged as the ideal candidate, as existing members of the choir struggled to deliver the iconic repeated refrain with consistent assurance.
In addition to his vocal duties, Moreschi assumed various administrative roles within the choir in the late 19th century. The choir's governance adhered to centuries-old traditions, and upon the retirement of senior castrato Giovanni Cesari in 1886, Moreschi likely ascended to the position of Director of Soloists.
The role of segretario puntatore, responsible for maintaining the choir's day-book, rotated among members, and Moreschi assumed this duty in 1891. The subsequent year, he undertook an additional administrative role as maestro pro tempore, overseeing meetings, coordinating rehearsals, managing leave, and attending to other administrative tasks essential for organizational functioning.
However, the late 19th century ushered in a period of upheaval for music within the Catholic Church, impacting the choir's trajectory. The Cecilian movement, a reformist response to Enlightenment ideals, advocated for a revival of Gregorian chant and polyphony.
Despite Mustafa's efforts to resist these changes, the appointment of Lorenzo Perosi, an Italian composer of sacred music, as joint Perpetual Director in 1898 signaled a paradigm shift.
As the century turned, Moreschi made history with the release of his first recordings, marking the emergence of the first documented recordings of a castrato. In 1903, Pope Pius X, a staunch proponent of Cecilianism, decreed that high vocal parts in the choir must henceforth be entrusted to boys, gradually phasing out castrati.
Officially, Moreschi remained a member of the choir until 1913, qualifying for his pension. However, Perosi's opposition to the castrato voice ultimately prevailed, signaling the end of approximately 500 years of musical tradition.
Sadly, the recordings Moreschi leaves us don't show him at his best. They are made early in the life of recording technology, and it's unlikely they capture the unique qualities of the castrato instrument with anything like the accuracy needed to make a judgement on their sound.
In addition, the shelf-life of a soprano castrato is a relatively short one, and Moreschi's range and power had already begun to diminish. His physical appearance was changed by his castration - he was short, and his rib cage was large, as with other castrati. He had none of the body hair associated with male puberty, and his voice remained high in pitch.
All of these things gave him a youthful appearance until almost the end of his life. Unfortunately, despite enjoying his star status in Italian high society, he never really fitted in.
The standards to which Italian men were held meant his inability to grow facial hair, and sport the heavy beard that was fashionable at the time, denied him the ability to appear 'masculine'. He was both held in great esteem as a celebrity and artist, and looked down on for being perceived as less than a man.
However much Moreschi relished his fame and dressed like a star, the upper echelons of society were closed to him. Moreschi did marry, although obviously he was unable to have children. The change of rules for choir members in 1891 made it possible for him to marry Guendalina Rinaldi.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a happy match. Within a few years, Moreschi had left his wife for another man, leaving her free to squander his wealth and sell his art collection. Forcibly retired by the change in policy at the Sistine Chapel, Moreschi lived the last 15 years of his life in an apartment close to the Vatican, dying of pneumonia at the age of 63.
The recordings
The Gramophone & Typewriter Company recordings weren't Moreschi's first venture into having his voice captured. Bettini made a cylinder copy of him in 1900, singing Pratesi's Et incarnatus est.
The 1902 commercial recordings from the company which was to become His Master's Voice were intended not just to capture the sound of the chapel choir before it changed forever with the advent of boys' voices, but to record the voice of the elderly Pope Leo XIII, who died the following year at the age of 93.
Over the next two years, Moreschi made a total of 18 recordings, both as a soloist and as part of the choir. What isn't clear is how well these sold outside Italy, although both French and American Victor label pressings exist.
The qualities of Moreschi's voice are more controversial. Ida Franca, teacher and author of The Manual of Bel Canto had heard the castrato live in around 1910, and had spoken highly of the quality of his voice, whilst still stating he was not the best castrato she had ever heard.
The recordings, however, divide opinion - other factors notwithstanding. He clearly has great lung capacity and legato, and the unearthly qualities of a not-quite boy soprano. However, the technique is at best questionable, and he has some strange vocal habits, not least a distortion of the onset of a note by approaching from anything up to an octave below.
He also has a tendency to perhaps overuse the Italianate 'sob' more familiarly heard in tenors. It's also worth bearing in mind that the modern ear is unused to hearing this extraordinary sound.
Forcing an adult lungful of ear through a stunted larynx won't necessarily produce a voice that can be entirely processed by an ear more used to hearing the seamless timbre of a countertenor.
The breath pressure is entirely different. Moreschi's voice is both like them, and at the same time as far removed as it is possible to be.
Indeed, while the recordings of the full choir may strike modern listeners as peculiar, they serve as a remarkable musical time capsule.
The haunting voices of the castrati from the Sistine Chapel Choir captured on these recordings offer a glimpse into the sacred music and performance traditions of the Catholic Church spanning over 400 years. This singular quality renders them invaluable artifacts, preserving a bygone musical era that would otherwise have faded into obscurity.
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