Hidden Voices (32 page)

In this book, I chose to concentrate on six pivotal years when Antonio Vivaldi worked as a violin teacher and ultimately
maestro di concerti
at the Ospedale della Pietà. These were the years before Vivaldi’s fame as a musician began to grow and make his life more public. I framed my novel in this time period in order to provide a clear window into the life of the orphanage and Vivaldi’s role there. I focused on three fictional members of the
privilegiate del coro,
which included only those girls chosen to play and sing in the concerts of the Pietà, concerts that were to become renowned throughout Europe. It is assumed that these more privileged students were picked for the
coro
because of talent and musical ability. They were also given privileges such as the ability to earn spending money as
maestre,
the right to pass judgment on their own tutors (which could affect a teacher’s income), and even the opportunity to sing operatic parts occasionally in professional productions outside the Ospedale. The main characters of my story grow in disparate directions as they come of age within the highly evolved social service system of the Republic of Venice under the doge. Minor characters often possess the same names as students who were at the Ospedale during the years covered by my book, and I sometimes identify them by the instruments they actually played, but they are fictitious in all other ways.

The work of eighteenth-century composer Antonio Vivaldi is played frequently today, but his folios had actually been forgotten for two hundred years, only to be discovered in 1926 in an Italian monastery. And although scholars have been able to document many of the performances of his work that occurred during his own lifetime, the details of that life are somewhat sketchy. We do know that he lived, well into adulthood, with his parents and siblings. The
campo,
or small square, their apartment looked upon still holds the church where Vivaldi was baptized and is very close to the Ospedale della Pietà.

To find out as much as I could about the Ospedale, Vivaldi, and eighteenth-century Italy, my reading material included books and websites about the composer, his contemporaries, his music, and the political history and social service system of that day. I also traveled to Venice, where I discovered the Hotel Metropole on the site where the Pietà once was. Situated on the Riva degli Schiavoni, the Pietà faced the lagoon between the Grand Canal and the San Marco Canal — very near Saint Mark’s Square and the Palace of the Doge. Because of its location, the orphanage must have provided a view of the very center of Venetian life, which was in stark contrast to life within it. Ca’ Rezzonico, which houses the Museum of Eighteenth-Century Venice, was an excellent source for a sense of those times.

The chapel that I refer to in the text was reconstructed in 1745, and the Santa Maria della Pietà still exists today as a church building designed primarily for musical performances. For the purposes of my story, the interior of the original chapel, the school, and the Ospedale itself are imagined. Some reports state that the main building was occupied by as many as a thousand students at a time. The present hotel structure, which is said to correspond to that of the Ospedale, is so small, however, that perhaps this number is an exaggeration. Saint Mark’s Square is much as it was in Vivaldi’s time, as is Saint Mark’s Church itself and the Palace of the Doge. In fact, most of Venice appears to be very much the way it was in that Baroque world in which I thoroughly immersed myself.

To care for the illegitimate and abandoned children in Venice at that time, four
ospedali
for both girls and boys were established as part of an advanced social service system that provided some surprising opportunities for these orphaned children. The foundling wheel itself was an innovation from the Middle Ages, and it is interesting to note that it’s being replicated today in hospitals such as Rome’s Casilino Polyclinic, where something closer to an incubator-type drawer has recently been introduced.

Although some boys were apparently educated until their teens at the Ospedale della Pietà, it was principally considered a school for young women. Girls in the
figli di commun,
whose musical education was not so intense, learned skills such as lace-making, dressmaking, and nursing. Those in the
figli di coro,
however, could become
maestre
before or after they left the Ospedale or paid performers if they chose not to marry, but they couldn’t perform anywhere within the La Serenissima, the Republic of Venice. From what I could discern, although Italy was a Catholic country and the orphans were somewhat cloistered, the
ospedali
were not convents. The students were free to follow a religious vocation later if they so desired, but only in a convent outside Venice. It was a time and place when music was considered a necessary part of a superior education offered even to foundlings, a concept very much in conflict with our present educational system in the United States, where the arts are often considered an appendage or even expendable.

For four years I was a day student in an all-girls boarding school, so the issues, concerns, and problems that come up in a highly charged, predominantly female atmosphere are very familiar to me. Also, as a singer with Cantemus, a chamber chorus north of Boston, I have sought in this narrative to combine my musical knowledge with my writing and storytelling skills.

Ultimately, within these pages, I’ve been able to indulge my great interest in the music of the Baroque and to live for a while in a period that spawned many innovative musical talents and continues to excite my imagination.

Grateful thanks are due to the members of my writing group — Ellen Wittlinger, Nancy Werlin, and Anita Riggio — who listened to this book chapter by chapter and gave sage advice and unflagging support. I’m also indebted to my husband, Wally, for entering into my search for Vivaldi and the orphans with gusto; to Betsy Lebel and Lenice Strohmier for their careful attention to the first draft; to Chris Brodien Jones, Laurie Jacobs, Donna McArdle, and Patricia Bridgman for advice and encouragement; and to Ed Monnelly for useful information. I was also inspired by the talented members of the chamber chorus Cantemus, and by our conductor, Dr. Gary Wood, whose teaching abilities and musical knowledge infused my interpretation of Vivaldi. I have a deep appreciation as well for the informed eye of my editor, Hilary Van Dusen, and the guidance of my agent, Lauren Abramo.

P
AT
L
OWERY
C
OLLINS
is the author of many acclaimed books, including the novels
The Fattening Hut, Just Imagine,
and
Signs & Wonders,
as well as the picture books
I Am a Dancer, I Am an Artist,
and
Come Out, Come Out!
She says that the inspiration for
Hidden Voices
“came from a single fact heard on my classical music station: that Antonio Vivaldi wrote countless concertos to showcase the talents of orphan girls and snare husbands for a lucky few. Intrigued, I dug more deeply and discovered so much rich and often apocryphal material that it was almost overwhelming. As did Vivaldi, I chose to focus on the orphans themselves and to acquaint readers with the composer and his music through their story.” Pat Lowery Collins teaches in the MFA program in creative writing at Lesley University and lives in Massachusetts.