Introduction

Francesco Cavalli and Seventeenth-Century

Opera
During the seventeenth century, opera gradually coalesced as a genre, changing from a type of rarified intellectual experiment into Europe's favorite cultural activity. Naturally its styles and aesthetic goals altered
radically in the course of this process. The earliest opera
composers, Peri and Caccini, concentrated on recitativeon capturing in music the irregular inflections and spontaneous emotional outbursts of "natural" speech. By the
time of Handel, however, the attention of composers,
singers, and their fans had shifted to arias, which now
served as gorgeous vehicles for technical and expressive
virtuosity.
The operas of Francesco Cavalli (1602-76) represent
the midpoint in this transition.' As Ellen Rosand put it,
Cavalli's music shows "a moment of equilibrium, . . . a
perfectly adjusted meeting of music and drama."2 With
Cavalli, the expressive weight of an opera is still largely
carried by recitative. Yet the style of his recitative is rich,
melodious, and studded with arioso fragments. Tiny,
lyrical arias seem to erupt naturally from each plot situation; numerous ensembles lend variety while maintaining dramatic momentum-as Mozart and others were to
rediscover more than a century later.
Not only did Cavalli develop ingenious solutions to
the problems of representing drama in music, but he himself was at the forefront of the movement that established
opera as the preeminent genre we know today. After the
introduction in 1637 of so-called public opera-that is,
opera funded by ticket sales and performed in regular
seasons-Venice became the center of this new phenomenon. Cavalli quickly emerged as its leading composer:
his thirty-two operas include nearly a third of those premiered in Venice between 1639 and 1668. As the new
genre spread to the rest of Italy and beyond, revivals of
Cavalli's works led the way. His operas were performed
throughout Italy, in France, and probably in England and
Austria as well, and he was even commissioned to write
an opera for the wedding of Louis XIV. In a period when
audiences had little interest in hearing familiar works,
Cavalli's operas were remarkable for their numerous
revivals; some of them had production histories that
spanned forty years. His most successful were I1 Giasone
(the century's most popular Italian opera), L'Egisto,
L'Erismena, I1 Mutio Scevola, Lo Scipione Afiicano, and I1
Xerse, whose libretto was the source for Handel's setting.

Cavalli ultimately became the most-performed Italian

opera composer of the seventeenth century: contrary to
modern perceptions, Cavalli's operas were much better
known than Monteverdi's and far more influential on the
immediate history of the genre.
Cavalli was born Francesco Caletti in the town of
Crema, where his father, maestro di cappella of the cathedral, probably gave him his first musical instruction.
When Francesco was fourteen, a Venetian nobleman
named Federigo Cavalli brought him to Venice. Federigo
supported the young musician and allowed him to adopt
the Cavalli family name; in gratitude, the composer left
the bulk of his estate to Federigo's heirs. The boy
Francesco was hired as a chorister at the church of St.
Mark-one of the most prestigious musical institutions in
all of Europe-where Monteverdi was maestro di cappella. Cavalli continued to work at St. Mark's as a singer,
organist, and composer for the rest of his life and ultimately ascended to the post of maestro di cappella. Like
most composers of his day, Cavalli was active as a performer throughout his life. In addition to singing, playing, and directing at St. Mark's, Cavalli led most of his
operas from the first harpsichord. For a short time he was
even involved in managing newly formed opera companies at the Teatro S. Cassiano and the Teatro S. Moisi!.

Giovanni Faustini and the Libretto of

La Calisto
Giovanni Faustini (1615-51) was one of the first professional opera librettists: whereas most seventeenthcentury poets were noble or academic dilettantes,
Faustini wrote unabashedly for his own financial and
social profit.3 He was also one of the first professional
opera impresarios, managing first the Teatro S. Moisi! and
then the Teatro S. Aponal (Apollinare), where La Calisto
had her premiere in 1651. In both theaters he presented
exclusively his own works and collaborated primarily
with Cavalli, with whom he had previously written five
operas for the Teatro S. Cassiano. La Calisto, then, was the
fruit of a ten-year partnership between two men who had
an intimate knowledge of both the artistic and the practical sides of operatic production.
Although Faustini died when he was just thirty-six, he
proved to be the most influential librettist of his generation.4 Faustini typically preferred to invent a new plot
rather than recycle a standard story. In La Calisto, Faustini
deviated from this plan by drawing on Greco-Roman

mythology, yet he selected stories that could readily

appeal to the contemporary taste for love intrigue.
Faustini exploited this potential to the utmost, cleverly
combining two famous myths: Giove's seduction of
Calisto, and Diana's affair with Endimione.5

The Myths
Faustini's account of the Calisto story is derived largely
from Ovid's Metamorphoses. Ovid relates how Giove
(Jove, Jupiter, Zeus), king of the gods, falls in love with
the beautiful nymph Calisto (CaLIisto)P Since Calisto is
sworn to chastity as a follower of the virgin goddess
Diana, Giove seduces her by transforming himself into
Diana. Giove's jealous wife, Giunone (Juno), takes her
revenge by turning Calisto into a bear. Giove finally rescues
Calisto by making her into the constellation Ursa Major.
Faustini changes Ovid's story in several significant
ways. According to Ovid, Calisto quickly realizes the
deceit and struggles against Giove (thus the "seduction"
is in fact a rape). In Faustini's version, however, Calisto is
utterly fooled and overwhelmed by the pleasure of her
experiences with "Diana."7 This device helps sustain the
plot through several further adventures; it also highlights
the poignancy of Calisto's situation, making the traditional reunion of the leading couple in the finale much
more plausible. To focus the story more clearly on Giove
and Calisto, Faustini made only passing reference to their
son Arcade (Arcas).In Ovid, Giove intervenes only at the
point where Arcade is unwittingly about to kill the bear
Calisto: he transforms both mother and son into constellations (Arcade becomes Ursa Minor).
In the second plot of La Calisto, Diana, the moon goddess, and Endimione (Endymion), a beautiful young
shepherd and astronomer, have fallen in love. But Pane
(Pan), god of the woodlands, is also tragically infatuated
with Diana. To vent his jealousy, he and his band of satyrs
capture Endimione and threaten to kill him. Diana rescues Endimione, and they live happily ever after in platonic bliss (out of respect for Diana's vows of chastity).8
As a foil to the lofty sentiments of Diana and Endimione,
Faustini invented a comic subplot: Linfea (Lymphea), a
young nymph of Diana, is curious to learn about love,
but rejects the offers of Satirino (the Young Satyr), a follower of Pane. A battle of nymphs and satyrs ensues, in
which the nymphs succeed in driving the satyrs away.
Faustini's coupling of the Endimione story with the
Calisto myth was a masterstroke. It provided the libretto
with several love triangles whose tensions ultimately resolve into the two pairs of happy lovers that were already
traditional in Italian opera. It also created a striking contrast between Giove and Calisto's deeply physical love
and Diana and Endimione's equally passionate, yet platonic love. The two plots are connected by the presence of
both the false Diana and the real Diana, a device that creates a hilarious series of mistaken identities in act 2.

Poetic Style
Reading through the libretto, one is immediately struck
by the beauty of Faustini's poetry. His characters con-

verse in a rich and e@mt language that helps shape

our view of their personalities For example, Giove's
response to meeting -to
is so eloquent that we are
tempted to forgive him whatever impmprieties he is contemplating: "Ah, how a single ray of such beauty can
pierce my divinity! Sweetly rebellious toward its creator,
this face, if 1 could die, would have killed me" (act 1,
scene 2).
Faustini is at his best when evoking visual images.
Perhaps the most vivid are those relating to the stars, the
moon, and other celestial phenomena.9 Two of the seven
stage sets feature the moon or stars (see below); even the
dedication is riddled with astrological references. These
ideas are central to both myths: Calisto achieves her
apotheosis when Giove elevates her to the heavens as a
constellation; Endimione, renowned as the first astronomer, loves the moon goddess Diana. By manipulating
these common threads, Faustini was able to unite the two
halves of the plot effectively. Other recurring images
are those of water and its opposite, thirst/desiccation.lo
Both are rich with sexual allegory: for example, the metaphorical significance of Giove's spring, which relieves
Calisto's thirst, was surely not lost on contemporary
spectators.
Furthermore, Faustini's characters often describe their
surroundings and their actions in such detail that the
reader can almost see what is happening on stage (see
table 2 below). Here speaks the experienced dramatist/
impresario: poetry can cast a spell on the audience that
enhances the visual impact of the scenery and staging.
For instance, Giove's description of the spring he created
for Calisto provides a marvelous poetic complement to
the stage effect that occurs at this point: "See how the
cold crystals gush forth from the abundant spring! My
lovely languid one, immerse the beautiful coral lips of
your sweet enticing mouth in the escaping jet of water"
(act 1, scene 2). Similarly, Endimione's description of
himself worshipping moonbeams helps add luster to the
moon^' effect in act 2, scene 1: "Endymion, the secret
observer, walks upon [Mt. Lycaeusl once more, caressing
the changing forms of the silvery star, and, on bright
nights, in the solitary darkness, kissing her splendors on
the earth and on the rocks."
La Calisto was clearly designed for a well-educated
audience. Although Faustini provided the traditional plot
summary before the start of the opera, this "Explanation
of the Story" only goes partway in preparing the reader
for what follows. The opera teems with allusions to
Greco-Roman mythology and symbolism, as well as to
astronomy. Puns and elaborate metaphors abound; sentence structures are often poetic, rather than conversational. The opening pages of the libretto are particularly
difficult in this regard: the dedication is practically submerged in erudite references. But once the dialogue is
underway, the language becomes much clearer.
Faustini's comic dialogue is especially straightforward. Mercurio (Mercury) and Giove's quick asides to
each other, for instance, seem fairly realistic in their
vocabulary and sentence structure. But even comic char-

acters sometimes converse in elevated language.

Satirino's description of himself resounds with the
images of classic love poetry: "Soft as down . . . is this
tender fur that grows on my limbs. Nor does soft wool
darken my face, but on my white cheeks the ligustrums
bloom, and to them are grafted live, budding roses. This
mouth of mine, heavy with sweetest honeycombs, will
give you nectar" (act 1, scene 13). This is hardly the language that one would expect from a smelly "goat-boynas Linfea does not hesitate to point out.
Giove
As Susan McClary and others have observed, Giove's
amorous escapades in acts 1 and 2 have more than one
parallel with those of his eighteenth-century cousin, Da
Ponte's Don Giovanni.11 Yet, whereas the unrepentant
Don is punished for his misdeeds by a higher power, it is
Giove himself-as the "higher powern-who rights the
wrongs that he caused. The Giove of act 3, in fact, has put
aside his errant ways and appears to Calisto as the benevolent creator of the universe. His verbal apology to her
may be oblique ("innocent little thing, deceived by the
amorous feelings of the supreme god who rules the
world"), but his gesture in elevating her to the heavens is
so grand that Calisto capitulates, overwhelmed this time
by divine rather than physical love.
Faustini infuses this moment with explicit Christian
allegory. As McClary has noted, Calisto responds to
Giove's offer by quoting the Virgin Mary: "Behold me,
your handmaid. Command as you will, 0 Monarch of the
Heavens, her whom you created."l2 The Christian
imagery goes even further than McClary suggests. In
fact, the setting Faustini chose for this scene-the
Empyrean-was an aspect of ancient cosmology that had
been appropriated by Christianity centuries earlier.
Compare the conclusion of La Calisto to that of Dante's
Divine Comedy: Dante arrives at the Empyrean-the tenth
and final layer of Paradise-and there sees his beloved
Beatrice sitting alongside the Virgin Mary amid the souls
of those who believed in Christ and went to Heaven (i.e.,
Faustini's "Coro di Menti Celesti" [Chorus of Celestial
Spiritsl).l3
Such overtly Christian allusions in an opera that is not
only populated by pagan gods, but also features illicit
sex, marital infidelity, and various other sins may strike
some today as "bordering on sacrilege," as McClary put
it.14 But seventeenth-century Italian art often reveals a
certain slippage between Christian and pagan ideologies;
a famous operatic example is the revised ending to
Striggio/Monteverdils Orfeo, in which the suffering
Orfeo is raised to heaven by his father, the god Apollo. As
Jean Seznec has demonstrated, the Counter-Reformation
Church tolerated and sometimes encouraged the use of
mythology precisely to illustrate Christian virtues and
vices. From the standpoint of those whose interests in
mythology were rather more worldly, Christian allegory
provided "the ideal expedient-a concealing veil and
an honorable formula of compromise."ls In partly
Christianizing the finale of La dalisto, Faustini was build-

ing on centuries of representations of Giove that needed

to reconcile his rampant virility with the fact that he was,
after all, the supreme god of the ancient cosmos.
Giove-in-Diana and Calisto
Giove's transformation into Diana and the ensuing sexual
encounter with Calisto has attracted a good deal of attention in recent years, notably that of gender scholars Susan
McClary and Wendy Heller. As McClary reminds us, in
baroque opera sexual relationships between "real" men
and women are rare. The men who get the girls are generally the castrati; tenors and basses are relegated to playing characters who are "ineligible" for sexual liaisons.16
She goes on to observe that "these strange paradoxes and
inversions involving mature male voices and their sexualities reach a dizzying height with Cavalli and Faustini's
La Calisto. . . . Giove disguises himself. . . as Diana, which
requires that he push his bass voice into a forced, comic
falsetto; he must surrender, in other words, all evidence of
his virility in order to quallfy for romantic encounters-"PP
Elsewhere McClary remarks that Faustini "cast the lofty
Giove as a drag queen who falls into humiliating circumstances beyond his control."ls
McClary's analysis of Giove's character relies in part on
Ren6 Jacobs's interpretation of Giove-in-Diana as Giovein-drag. As Jacobs himself admits, however, this casting
was probably not what Faustini and Cavalli intended:19
Giove-in-Diana was most likely performed by the same
woman who sang Diana (see below, "Sources and
Premiere Production: The Cast" and "Notes on Performance: Casting"). Thus Giove did not have to strain to
imitate Diana, he simply became Diana. This interpretation of the role gives even stronger support to McClary's
underlying message, namely that Giove and Calisto's
soprano-soprano love scenes toy with the biological oddness of castrato-soprano pairings. Heller refers to Giove's
musical transformation, however it was accomplished
physically, as "the aural equivalent of castration."20
No matter whether Giove-in-Diana is played by a man
or a woman, the presence of this character raises
the suggestion of a lesbian encounter with Calisto.
Wendy Heller explains the Giove-in-Diana/Calisto/
Diana scenes as "a series of tantalizing erotic images that
play with the dangerous possibility of women pleasuring
each other."21 These lesbian undercurrents are undeniable. Yet on another level-that of basic plot construction
-the drama functions in an essentially heterosexual
manner. Despite the feminine physique and voice,
Faustini's Giove-in-Diana behaves like the stereotype of a
heterosexual male. Many of his/her scenes in act 2 could
have come straight from the locker room: in act 2, scene
7, Giove-in-Diana boasts to Mercurio about how great
Calisto was in bed; in act 2, scene 9, after a scolding from
Giunone, s/he sings with Mercurio a duet whose refrain
is "The husband who lets his wife control his desires is a
goner"; and in act 2, scene 10, Mercurio makes a homophobic wisecrack about the amorous advances of
Endimione ("My Lord, abandon this disguise . . . lest
instead of a pretty girl you get yourself a husband"). In

short, the audience knows that this is really Giove; only

the characters on the stage are fooled-especially Calisto.
For her part, Calisto appears to be so innocent that she
does not even know what sex is, much less lesbian sex:
she describes her experience with "Diana" as "a certain
sweet something, I don't know what it is called (act 2,
scene 6). Even so, she knows enough to describe the
kisses as like those of a husband and wife. Curiously,
Cavalli's score and the 1651 printed libretto disagree
about who was which in this encounter. In the score version of act 2, scene 6, Calisto describes "Diana" as the
man: "[Diana] led me to a delightful grotto, and kissed
me again and again as if she were my lover, my husband."
In the libretto version, the roles are reversed: "[Diana]
kissed me . . . as if I were her lover, her husband."22
It is unclear which reading Faustini preferred; perhaps
the textual confusion demonstrates that either one is
viable. Heller, focusing on illustrating the opera's lesbian
themes, quotes only the libretto's "Diana-as-woman"
version of this passage.23 Yet the score's "Diana-as-man"
version works well with Faustini's overall dramatic strategy. Throughout the Giove-in-Diana scenes he builds
dramatic tension by playing with another kind of "dangerous possibility," namely that Giove's cover will be
blown. The audience lies in wait for Giove-in-Diana to
make a mistake that reveals his/her identity, or for the
people s/he meets to figure it out, or for the real Diana to
turn up and spoil everything. The irony of Calisto's situation is all the more delicious if she actually arrives at the
truth and then fails to understand its implications. On the
a
level of plot construction, then, the ~ i o v e - i n - ~ i a nconceit seems to function primarily as a disguise, albeit one
with unusually evocative implications. Thus it forms part
of a long tradition in drama, one in which poets used
disguise, misplaced letters, lost medallions, etc., to sow
confusion-which they miraculously resolved in the
finale.24
One thing that is certainly extraordinary about La
Calisto, as Heller observes, is that female pleasure is represented onstage.25 Pleasure becomes the foundation of
Calisto's love for Diana, which she transfers to Giove
once the truth is revealed. This interpretation reversed
Ovid's presentation of the story. In his version, Calisto is
mortified at having been raped by Giove and shies away
from direct contact with the real Diana; Diana ultimately
banishes Calisto when she discovers her to be pregnant.
In Faustini's version, however, Calisto addresses Diana
eagerly, in such explicit terms that Diana banishes her for
using worse language than any "infamous whore." Here
Faustini is treading a fine line: it is precisely because
Calisto is so naive that she can get away with her ecstatic
outbursts. "Piacere Maggiore," Calisto's first aria after
going off into the bushes with Giove-in-Diana ("A heart
could feel no greater pleasure . . . than the one my spirit
just enjoyed"), was clearly designed to provoke amusement, coming as it does on the heels of her defiant pre-sex
aria, "Non 6 maggior piacere" ("There is no greater pleasure than, by hunting animals, to escape the wheedling
entreaties of men"). Yet Calisto is far from being simply

the butt of locker-room jokes. It is Faus:finils eloquent

portrayal of her joys and her sorrows, as brilliantly captured in Cavalli's music, that melts our hearts and earns
Calisto her place as the protagonist of this drama.

Pane and the Saturs

J

Faustini's representations of amorous relationships

become all the more complex when we consider the characters of Pane, Silvano (Sylvanus),and Satirino. Pane and
his satyrs are fierce and sexually violent creatures, yet
Pane's lovesick laments seem to grow out of genuine feelings for Diana. This odd juxtaposition was surely perceived at the time as comic, especially as played by
Tomaso Bovi, a gifted comic actor (see "Sources and
Premiere Production: The Cast" below). Cavalli cleverly
captured the essence of this comedy: his music for Pane
parodies that of Endimione, complete with over-the-top
dissonances and sobbing chromaticism. Satirino-a prepubescent satyr--clearly is comic: his scenes with Linfea
recall the playful, erotically charged taunts of junior-high
kids. Yet his first solo scene (act 1, scene 14) is highly
problematic: in it Satirino advocates rape and battery as
the best ways of dealing with reluctant women. Faustini
seems to have been aiming for the comedy of a young
boy trying to act like "one of the guysu-and in this case,
the "guys" were not just men, but satyrs. But the poet
may have exceeded the limits of acceptability: this scene
was ultimately cut in the original production score and is
rarely included in revivals today.

Endimione
Endimione is a character that modern observers find puzzling. Between his tears, his sleep scene, his capture, and
his rescue by his girlfriend-not to mention his castrato
voice-he hardly conforms to a Schwarzeneggerian
model of heroism. He seems so passive by today's standards that director David Alden in 1987 presented him as
a blind AIDS victim confined to a wheelchair.26 It thus
seems paradoxical to many that, from a musical standpoint, Endimione is the star of the show (see "Musical
Structure and Style" below).
Roger Freitas's work on castrati in seventeenthcentury Italy offers us one key to understanding
Endimione. According to Freitas, the character type of the
beautiful young man, one who prefers the "feminizing"
delights of love and music to the "manly" duties of leadership and physical work, was the object of erotic appeal
for both men and women in this period.27 As Heller has
demonstrated, characters of this type abound in opera,
often paired with strong, dominant women (as in La
Calisto).28 These male characters were invariably played
by castrati, whom Freitas says were widely regarded as
"the most sensual, erotic of menu-contrary to modern
perceptions.29 Endimione's sleep scenes (act 2, scenes
1-2) offer strong evidence for such a reading of this role.
Here he pours out his heart in beautiful music ("Lucidissima face," "Sonno, cortese sonno") then abandons himself to erotic dreams ([dreaming]: "Immortal face, I kiss

you, I cherish you, and in kissing you, my Goddess, I

feel a sweet torment"), only to be embraced by the lovesmitten Diana as he sleeps ("Lovely limbs, as your
unknown worshipper I can blissfully admire you, contemplate you, and, without blushing, kiss you. . . . Oh,
sweet-smelling breaths, these rosy lips exhale the breezes
of Arabia; and cinnamon, or costum oil, wafts precious
breezes toward me, the closer I come").
But beauty, sex appeal, and the pursuit of love represent only one side of Endimione's character. After all, he
ultimately stopped short of physical consummation with
Diana (at least in Faustini's version), declaring himself to
be "the lord of my senses" (act 3, scene 7). The other side,
which Faustini developed at length, is Endimione's interest in astronomy. He loves Diana as the object of his scientific investigations ("you, learned scholar, who observe
and note the changing movements of my sphere" [act 1,
scene 81). Diana, in turn, loves him for his mental powers
("and if [I am] in love now, it is with the refined character and the virtue of this noble shepherd, who extends the
flights of his intellect from here to either pole" [act 3,
scene 61). Endimione and Diana speak to each other in a
style rich with metaphors and elaborate poetic conceits:
we can practically hear them sublimating their physical
desires and transforming them into poetry (see act 3,
scene 7, from "Tanto dunque tu m'ami"). Faustini's decision to emphasize the intellectual basis of Endimione and
Diana's love may have something to do with plot construction. It helps justify why, despite passionate yearnings, the couple decides to maintain a purely platonic
relationship. It thus helps provide an interesting contrast
between the two pairs of lovers in this opera.
There may also be deeper reasons why Faustini chose
this particular emphasis. Endimione's experiences have
many parallels to those of another famous astronomer,
Galileo Galilei, who died only a few years before La
Calisto was written.30 Like Endimione, widely known in
the seventeenth century as "the first to understand the
moon,"31 Galileo first rose to international fame for his
studies of the moon. In 1609 he built the first astronomical telescope and pointed it at the moon, becoming the
first person to map the lunar surface. He then turned his
gaze toward the planet Jupiter and discovered its four
largest satellites, which a few years later were named
after the god's most famous lovers: Europa, 10, Ganymede, and, of course, Callisto.32 After the publication of
the controversial Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World
Systems (1632), Galileo was hauled before the Holy
Inquisition in Rome and charged with heresy for contradicting Church teachings. He was threatened with torture, forced to renounce his scientific findings, and
imprisoned in his home for the remainder of his life.
Similarly, in episodes that were newly invented by
Faustini, Endimione is captured by Pane, threatened with
life imprisonment (act 2, scene 12), then with death
unless he renounces his beliefs (act 3, scene 5). Endimione's response to these threats, at least in the libretto
version of the drama, may allude to Galileo's forced
recantation: "If indeed my mouth, that betrayer of the

heart's affections, were actually . . . to deny the goddess,

believe it.l133Fortunately for Endimione, he is
rescued by Diana. But, as he tells her, "Rather than deny
you, I wanted to die, to die a martyr, 0 Goddess" (act 3,
scene 7). In another parallel with Galileo, Endimione
remarks that although his "studies" of Diana might be
considered sacrilegious, he remains firmly committed
to them: upon awakening in her arms he says, "I am a
blasphemer, who both embraces and touches the divine
spirits, but in order to enjoy so much glory, it seems to
me that I'd rather be damned than release them" (act 2,
scene 2).
Galileo always believed that it was possible to remain
a devout Christian and still pursue scientific research,
which may be one reason why Faustini stressed the
divine as well as the scientific basis of Endimione's love
for Diana. As Calisto had done with Giove three scenes
earlier, Endimione addresses Diana in language redolent
of Christianity (see act 3, scene 7). Endimione's aria "Vivo
per te," which he sings to his virgin goddess, contains
subtle references to the famous antiphon to the Virgin
Mary, "Salve Regina": the opening lines "Vivo per te,
pietosa, / Spiro per te, clemente" (I live for you, 0 compassionate one, / I breathe for you, 0 clement one) echo
the antiphon's evocative outcry, "0clemens, / 0 pia" (0
clement one, / 0 compassionate one). Another passage in
this scene imitates a prayer: "Forgive me, . . . raise my
humble state and my powers of expression, and entrust
them with your grace, 0 Goddess."
In short, these parallels with Galileo may provide
another key for understanding Endimione's role, particularly the lengthy scenes with Pane and the satyrs. Viewed
from this perspective, Endimione's capture, his suffering,
and his refusal to renounce his beliefs take on an air of
nobility that is beautifully matched by Cavalli's musical
treatment.
Galileo was certainly widely known and respected in
Venice. As a professor at the University of Padua between
1592 and 1610, he taught a generation of Venetian noble
men, among whom he formed many alliances. His first
L
demonstration of the telescope was for the Venetian senate, to whom he donated the instrument itself. The Starry
Messenger was printed in Venice; both the Dialogue
Concerning the Two Chief World Systems and his later
Dialogue Concerning Two New Sciences (1638) were set in
Venice. More importantly, however, Galileo's battle with
the Church resounded strongly in Venice, a city that had
famously challenged Rome's authority during the papal
Interdict of 1606. Venice ultimately won its case, largely
due to the theologian and scientist Paolo Sarpi, a friend of
Galileo's who had helped him build the telescope.34 Thus
a Venetian audience in 1651 probably had little trouble
recognizing shades of Galileo in Endimione. Moreover,
Faustini may not have been the first to connect the two:
at least one contemporary painting presents Endimione
asleep with a telescope.35 Ultimately then, despite the
trappings of Roman mythology, La Calisto might be read
as defiantly anti-Roman-and thus a quintessentially
Venetian story.

. . . don't

Plot Synopsis

Prologue
The Cave of Eternity. L'EternitB (Eternity) sits on a
throne encircled by the Serpent of Eternity. La Natura
(Nature) addresses the pure souls of the unborn, preparing them for their journey to earth as "charioteers" of
human bodies; she admonishes them to rein in their
senses and follow the path of Virtue so that they may be
immortalized by La Natura and written into the Book of
Eternity. I1 Destino (Destiny) enters and requests that
Calisto be admitted to the heavens as a constellation.
L'EternitB agrees; all three join together in proclaiming
"Let Calisto ascend to the stars."

Act 1
Desiccated Forest. The curtain opens on the aftermath
of a cataclysmic event: the mad ride of Fetonte
(Phaethon) in Apollo's chariot [the sun]. To protect the
earth from annihilation, Giove had killed Fetonte with a
thunderbolt and reduced the land to a smoking ruin. At
the start of the opera, Giove and Mercurio descend from
Mount Olympus to repair the damage. Giove, however, is
soon distracted by the sight of the beautiful nymph
Calisto. She has been wandering through the forest in
search of water and grieves over the earth's dry and barren state. Giove tries to woo her by displaying his powers: he commands the waters to flow from a dried-up
spring. Mercurio and Giove promise her heavenly pleasures if she submits. But Calisto, a disciple of the virgin
goddess Diana, has taken a vow of chastity; she rejects
Giove's advances and stalks off indignantly. Mercurio,
the god of deception, proposes an ingenious solution:
Giove is to assume the appearance of Diana, whom
Calisto is sworn to obey. They leave to prepare this deceit.
The thirsty Calisto then returns to drink at the spring.
Refreshed, she celebrates her life of liberty and solitude.
Giove, disguised as Diana, approaches and invites her to
a game of kisses; Calisto happily agrees. As Giove and
Calisto depart, Mercurio advises the audience that deception is the key to finding pleasure in love.
[Green] Forest. The shepherd/astronomer Endimione
enters, torn with conflicting emotions. He rejoices at how
quickly the earth has become green again, but laments his
hopeless, undeclared love for Diana. He meets Diana
while she is hunting with her band of virgins. Diana
reveals to the audience that she secretly loves Endimione,
despite her vow of chastity. With a heavy heart, she sends
him away. Calisto arrives in a state of ecstasy following
her recent encounter with the false Diana, and joyfully
approaches the real Diana. The goddess, however, is horrified by Calisto's account of "their" activities and banishes her from the band of virgins. Calisto departs, heartbroken and confused.
Diana's companion Linfea, a young and curious
nymph, admits to the audience that she wants to find out
what men are like in bed. Satirino, a prepubescent satyr,
overhears and offers his services. Linfea rejects him in
disgust, calling him "goat-boy"; he replies in kind.

Mimicking his elders, Satirino tells the audience that

women who say no are hypocrites who need to be taught
a lesson. Pane, god of the shepherds, then appears with
his companion Silvano. He sings of his love for Diana and
mourns the loss of her affections. Silvano and Satirino
vow to discover whether Diana has a new lover and then
to kill him. They comfort Pane, singing a lullaby as he
prepares for his midday nap. As the act ends, six bears
emerge from the woods and dance.

Act 2
The Summit of Mount Lycaeus. Endimione climbs to
the top of the mountain to gaze at his beloved Diana,
who appears in the sky as the rising moon. He sings of
the moon's beauty and falls asleep. Diana descends to
admire him as he sleeps. Dreaming, he embraces her,
then wakes to find himself in her arms. They confess their
love for each other. Diana departs, leaving Endimione
in renewed agony. Satirino, having spied on their
encounter, comments wryly on the fickleness of womankind. He runs off to tell Pane.
The Plain of the Erymanthus River. Having heard
rumors that her husband Giove has been playing the field
again, Giunone soon figures out the truth when she
meets Calisto and hears her sad tale. Giunone and Calisto
hide as Giove (disguised as Diana) appears, bragging to
Mercurio of the pleasures he has just enjoyed with
Calisto. When Calisto runs toward the false Diana, "she"
embraces her warmly, much to Giunone's dismay. Giove
sends Calisto off to await further kisses. In the meantime
Giunone reveals herself and questions the false goddess
closely. "She" replies that there is nothing wrong with
chaste kisses between girls. Giunone departs with a
warning. Giove resolves to ignore Giunone's jealousy; he
and Mercurio advise men not to let their wives interfere
with the pursuit of pleasure.
Endimione arrives, rejoicing in his newfound love; he
embraces the false Diana, who is amused to discover
Diana's secret. Pane and his followers surprise them
together; Giove and Mercurio beat a hasty retreat, leaving Endimione to the mercy of the satyrs. Satirino is
exasperated by the craziness of love. When Linfea
appears, still seeking a mate, he resolves to punish her
with "the sweetest type of revenge." He summons his
comrades to abduct her; she calls on her companions. In
the ensuing battle with the satyrs, the nymphs emerge
victorious.

Act 3
The Source of the Ladon River. Restlessly awaiting
Giove-in-Diana, Calisto plays echo games by the spring.
Giunone arrives in a jealous rage, accompanied by the
Furies; she turns Calisto into a bear. Giunone then
laments the plight of women whose husbands are
unfaithful. She departs urging the women in the audience to take revenge. Mercurio and Giove (who has
returned to his original form) come to the aid of poor
Calisto: Mercurio drives away the Furies. Giove restores
Calisto to her own body and reveals that he, not Diana,

was her lover. Although he cannot undo Giunone's spell

permanently, Giove promises that, upon Calisto's death,
he will elevate her to the stars. Grateful for her rescue and
humbled by this display of her divine "creator's" regard
for her, Calisto returns his love. Giove offers to show her
a glimpse of the future; they ascend to heaven with
Mercurio.
Pane and Silvano drag in Endimione, whom they
threaten with death and torture unless he renounces
Diana; he refuses. Diana finally appears and rescues her
beloved shepherd, rejecting Pane's attempts to win back
her affections. Pane and Silvano leave, loudly broadcasting Diana's "lechery." Diana and Endimione reaffirm
their love, pledging to content themselves with kisses.

The Empyrean. In the final apotheosis scene, Giove

shows Calisto the glories awaiting her in heaven. Calisto
departs to resume her life as a bear, accompanied by
Mercurio and shielded by Giove's love.

Musical Structure and Style

One of the defining characteristics of mid-seventeenthcentury Italian vocal music is a certain fluidity of structure and style.36 We rarely find the polar opposition of
recitative and aria familiar from later composers such as
Alessandro Scarlatti, Handel, or Mozart. On the contrary,
Cavalli's recitative is melodious, his arias are short and
usually accompanied only by continuo, and the ground
between recitative and aria is densely populated with
freely organized ensembles and passages in "aria style."
Nonetheless, Cavalli's score is far from the sea of undifferentiated ariosi that some have taken it to be: there are
over fifty numbers whose structural integrity sets them
apart from the rest of the texture. These items are listed in
the table of contents to this edition; they include thirty-six
solo, seventeen ensemble, and two mixed solo-ensemble
numbers.
It was the librettist who determined much of the
opera's structure, both on a small and a large scale. By
writing some portions of the libretto in "recitative verse"
and others in "aria verse," the librettist provided the
composer with clear signals regarding musical style.
Although composers usually followed those signals, at
times they reinterpreted, refined, or even contradicted
the poet's approach.

Recitative
Recitative verse or versi sciolti (free verse) consists of lines
of seven and eleven syllables, arranged in no particular
pattern or rhyme. Its free organization was intended to
imitate the spontaneous forms of normal speech.
Faustini's recitative, however, is composed almost
entirely in rhyme-a feature that predetermined a certain
mingling of recitative and aria styles in La Calisto.
Following a tradition established some fifty years earlier, Cavalli set recitative verse in a style driven by both
the structure and the emotional nuances of the poetry.37
The vocal line mimics the text's accents and intonations,
using a rapid, syllabic style; the bass line tracks its gram-

mar, moving slowly toward closure at the ends of sentences. Thus the overall musical design of recitative
articulates the impulsive, moment-to-moment progression of characters' thoughts and actions, avoiding longrange tonal centricity, formal repetition, and clear meter
(although by convention it is notated in C [common
time]).
Spontaneous as Cavalli's recitative may sound, its
structure is nonetheless carefully organized. By using a
rich vocabulary of melodic shadings, rhythmic inflections, and harmonic progressions, the composer provided a precise musical illustration of how every line of
poetry functions within its parent sentence. The ends of
sentences are usually staked out by V-I cadences in half
or whole notes. Internal clauses and short sentences are
identified by subtler cadences, often those where the bass
line moves by step (e.g., prologue, mm. 53-54 [bass
descends a whole stepl; and act 1, scene 1, mm. 31-32
[bass ascends a half step]). An individual line of text is
generally inflected by a small melodic dip or anticipation
before the barline; these inflections highlight each line's
structural accent, which Cavalli typically placed on the
downbeat of each measure.38 Questions are usually represented by half cadences, whose need for resolution
mimics that of the characters who are singing (e.g., act 1,
scene 2, mm. 104-5). Thus the musical logic of recitative
pulls the listener along in such a way that the singer does,
in fact, seem to be speaking. These basic principles of
recitative construction are, of course, common to many
composers. What distinguishes Cavalli's style is the
tremendous variety of solutions he found to the challenge of representing not only the structure of the poetry,
but also its emotional content.
Many of the expressive details in Cavalli's recitative
are concentrated in the vocal line. Although recitative
style generally features repeated notes in a relatively narrow range, numerous passages in La Calisto are memorably lyrical (e.g., act 1, scene 1, mm. 119-20, Mercurio:
"e anch'ella, Rigida quanto bella"). Throughout the
opera, the vocal line is enriched with chromaticism,
cross-relations, biting dissonances, and unusual intervals. As one might expect, these inflections typically
occur in passages portraying emotional or physical pain,
as well as those with erotic subtexts. Good examples of
the latter include act 1, scene 2, measures 86-87, where
Giove forms a cross-relation on the word "morir" (to die
-the classic double entendre), and act 1, scene 2, measures 123-26, where, after causing the spring to flow, he
plunges a tritone below the basso continuo line, then
swims back upward to surface above the bass line again.
The recitatives of Calisto and Endimione are particularly expressive and melodious. Heller calls attention to
Calisto's act 1, scene 4, measures 11-17, "a descent in parallel tenths between voice and bass that surely depicts
her gradual immersion in the fountain."39 This passage is
preceded by "a luxurious half-note ascending sigh,"
which sustains a dissonant Eb against a Bb-major triad
(m. 10). Here the dissonance illustrates beautifully the
frisson of refreshment that Calisto feels after taking her
first drink of the icy cold water.

Cavalli cleverly manipulated the rhythms of his recitative to communicate the mental state of each character.
For the most part, the vocal line tends to move in eighth
notes, with longer notes reserved for stressed syllables.
Yet Cavalli often deviated from this norm in order to
make the music sound more spontaneous and expressive.
Among other things, he often sped up or slowed down
the prevailing motion (especially at cadences), anticipated downbeats or suspended notes over barlines, or
introduced rests that stop or briefly interrupt the motion.
In act 1, scene 10, for example, Cavalli portrayed Diana's
building rage largely through rhythmic means (see mm.
75-86). Diana interrupts Calisto's cadence in measure 75,
entering with "Taci, lasciva" one beat earlier than
expected. She then lets fly with several volleys of sixteenth notes that ricochet off the edges of her range
(between g" and c') and cadence rapidly in eighth notes.
Cavalli displaced two of these cadences metrically. One
occurs unexpectedly on the last beat of measure 79
instead of the downbeat of measure 80; the other is "out
of synch," as the voice arrives at the cadence before the
continuo does (m. 86). Between her tirades, Diana comes
to abrupt halts during which she no doubt glares at
Calisto, who seems too humiliated to respond.
From a harmonic perspective, Cavalli's recitative is
remarkably simple: the main ingredients are and 2
chords organized around a small number of possible
tonal centers. Yet he used these modest resources with
extraordinary inventiveness. As the drama required,
Cavalli explored the limits of the key areas available
(including occasional F#-majorchords in a B-minor context). He also exploited sudden shifts and odd harmonic
juxtapositions in ways that, at this point in history, were
really only possible in recitative. A good example is act 1,
scene 8, measures 27-34, where Diana confesses to the
audience her secret, painful love for Endimione. In a
remarkable sequence of five chords, the harmony travels
from an E-major triad to an Eb-major triad, then takes a
breathtaking leap to an A-major 63 chord before cadencing
on D via a series of major-minor inflections.
Cavalli clearly wanted to create a certain tension
between the voice and the accompaniment. In many
cases the continuo sustains a single harmony while the
voice weaves a complex web around it, moving freely
between dissonant and consonant pitches (e.g., act 1,
scene 2, mm. 139-41, "oh meraviglie alte"). Cavalli's
strategy thus follows the famous precepts outlined by
Jacopo Peri in 1601.40 In La Calisto such clashes between
the voice and continuo often coincide with words denoting pain or sorrow; some of these spots are truly astonishing (e.g., act 1, scene 7, mm. 13-15, "amare" [bitter]).
But Cavalli also introduced vocal dissonances to clarify
harmonic goals. For instance, although he did not use the
dominant seventh as a "chord per se, he often lingered
on a passing seventh in the vocal part to increase harmonic tension and lead the ear to its resolution. This
procedure is particularly common in long phrases
that are sustained over a static bass note (e.g., act 1,
scene 1, mm. 62-65). Similar chromatic elaborations of
the vocal line result in the occasional augmented triad

and augmented-sixth sonority (e.g., act 1, scene 7, m. 24,

and act 1, scene 8, mm. 52-54, both of which depict
Endimione's suffering).

Arias and Other Solo Numbers

Unlike recitative verse, aria verse or versi misurati (measured verse) is typically arranged in coherent patterns of
line length, rhythm, and rhyme. Many passages include
a repeat scheme of some sort, such as multiple stanzas
and/or a concluding refrain. Although aria verse admits
a variety of line lengths (typically four, five, six, and eight
syllables), Faustini frequently selected the same ones
associated with recitative (i.e., seven and eleven syllables), again showing a tendency to merge the two types
of verse. Even so, the prevailing verse type is usually
clear from the layout of the libretto: when preparing the
printed text, Faustini indented most of the passages that
he considered aria verse.41
Cavalli responded to aria verse in ways that run the
gamut from arioso fragments to elaborate arias. Yet all of
these passages are clearly distinguishable from recitative:
all have a regular, measured rhythm, an active bass, and
a melodious, sometimes florid vocal line. I will refer to
these three features as "aria style," since together they
form the most basic level of musical distinction from
"recitative style." In addition, passages in aria style often
have at least one of three other musical characteristics.
These three traits not only further distinguish aria style
from recitative style, but they can also provide a useful
means of differentiating ariosi, arias, and other solo numbers from one another.
The first of these traits is tonal closure. Passages in aria
style often exhibit a type of self-contained harmonic
organization that is quite different from the restless,
open-ended movement of recitative. Judging from pieces
labelled "aria" in contemporary Italian sources, including
those of Cavalli, tonal closure seems to be an essential
element of arias. Those passages in aria style that lack
tonal closure, therefore, might be classed as ariosi.
The second trait is formal repetition, both of entire sections and individual motives. Recitative generally
avoided all types of repetition, with the exception of the
odd reiterated word. But from the earliest days of opera
history, large-scale formal repetition had been a vital
characteristic for arias, something that ariosi, by contrast,
often lacked.42 Cavalli normally reinforced whatever
large-scale repeat schemes Faustini had indicated. Thus
strophic arias are common in La Calisto, as are prototypical "da capo" forms. Within individual stanzas Cavalli
tended to employ just enough motivic repetition to give
the piece shape without belaboring its message or interrupting the pace of the drama.
The third trait is the use of instruments. Like other
mid-seventeenth-century Italian composers, Cavalli
emphasized the most significant numbers by awarding
them simultaneous orchestral accompaniment. There are
just four accompanied pieces in La Calisto: Endimione's
three big numbers ("Lucidissima face," "Cor mio," and
"Vivo per te") and Giove's "Bella mia," plus the fivemeasure refrain "Calisto alle stelle" that concludes the

prologue. Cavalli indicated the opera's "second tier"

numbers by providing them with "ritornelli" (short
instrumental passages that repeat in such a way as to
frame the vocal stanzas). The score of La Calisto includes
ten strophic pieces with ritornelli.43 In addition, Cavalli
supplied a concluding "sinfonia" (a short instrumental
passage that does not repeat) for two one-stanza numbers
("Chi qua sale" and "Chi crede a femmina"). Yet the presence of instrumental music is not an essential feature of
arias. About half the arias in the opera appear with continuo alone, while several ariosi do have ritornelli or sinfonie; there is also one short accompanied recitative (act
3, scene 4, mm. 28-33X44
Although identifying the traits listed above is a relatively straightforward task, it is by no means clear that all
pieces that exhibit these characteristics should be called
arias. Cavalli's own use of the term "aria" militates
against a broad application of this label: for him, as for
earlier composers, the word "aria" was restricted to
particular formal structures. The manuscript score of
La Calisto identifies just eight numbers as "arias"
("Verginella," "Non P maggior piacere," "Se non giovano," "L'uomo," "Ditemi," "Pazzi quei," "T'aspetto,"
and "Mogli mie"); all have two strophes punctuated by
ritornelli. But other Cavalli scores occasionally use the
term "aria" for strophic pieces without ritornello, or for
those with one strophe plus a refrain. These two categories account for another fifteen solo numbers in La
Calisto that might plausibly be called arias. Ten are
strophic ("Piante ombrose," "0 decoro," "Piangete," "10
son," "Lucidissima face," "Vivi, vivi," "Dalle gelose,"
"Car mio," "D'aver un consorte," and "Piu, che sciocco"),
and five have a refrain ("Calisto alle stelle," "Arciera
vezzosa," "Serenati," "Nelle mandre," and "Chi crede a
femmina").
There remain another ten numbers in aria style that
are tonally closed, yet lack formal repetition ("Chi qua
sale," "Piacere Maggiore," "Ninfa bella," "Molle come
lanugine," "Numi selvatici," "Ammirabili forme," "Viso
eterno," "Sgorgate," "Bella mia," and "Vivo per te"). For
pieces of this nature I suggest the term "arietta." This
word was used in seventeenth-century libretti to refer to
the "songs" in an opera, but unlike "aria" it did not imply
anything in particular about their structural characteristics. The term "arioso" might then be used as a catchall
for pieces in aria style that lack formal repetition and/or
tonal closure (see below).
Even with these guidelines in place, however, the distinctions between aria, arietta, and arioso are hardly cutand-dried, especially given the licenses Cavalli took in
interpreting Faustini's formal cues. In many cases, his
aim seems to have been to create a more tightly knit
structure than Faustini had implied. In "Cor rnio," for
example, Cavalli repeated the first stanza as a refrain to
build a two-stanza ABA aria. In "Serenati," he set the last
line to the same music as the first 10create a musical
refrain that has no textual repeat. In "Piante ombrose"
and "10 son," he built a more or less strophic aria out of a
loosely organized group of lines. And in a similar vein,
Cavalli twice took noncontiguous and differently struc-

tured passages of aria verse and set them in the manner

of a strophic aria: each has two parts in the same key,
meter, and style, although without actual musical repetition ("Ammirabili forme/O aliti odorati" and "Numi
selvatici/Conforti deboli").
In other cases, however, Cavalli seems to have reinterpreted Faustini's signals in order to achieve a particular
expressive effect. He set "Dalle gelose" as an archaic
strophic-variation aria in declamatory style rather than
the more modern aria style-a brilliant choice that
emphasized the visceral nature of Giunone's rage and
gave her soliloquy a palpable directness. In two cases
Cavalli took unambiguously strophic texts and set them
in ways that are harmonically open ended, a device that
gave Giove-in-Diana's "0 decoro" an appropriately
wheedling tone and, in "Piangete," illustrated Calisto's
state of tragic confusion.45 In "Sgorgate," the composer
gave us an intimate look at Calisto's anguish by combining the slow-moving bass and repeated eighth-note style
of recitative with the melodic lyricism and tonal closure
of aria. In "Bella mia" Cavalli set a stretch of recitative
verse primarily in aria style, complete with orchestral
accompaniment, although without imposing the formal
repetition characteristic of arias. In so doing, he shone a
spotlight on the opera's central moment of revelation and
reconciliation, providing a musical reflection of the powers with which Giove finally won Calisto's heart.46
Whereas Faustini obviously regarded Calisto as the
opera's central character, Cavalli seems to have intended
Endimione to be its musical star-unluckily, as it turned
out (see "Sources and Premiere Production" below). He
wrote the opera's biggest and most beautiful arias for
Endimione, including three of its four orchestrally
accompanied numbers. "Lucidissima face," Endimione's
elegy to his unattainable beloved (act 2, scene l), is especially lovely and is, in many ways, the quintessential
mid-seventeenth-century aria. It is cast in a sweeping 8
meter, with steady downbeats and a characteristic surge
on the second beat that propels the motion forward. The
prevailing sonorities are those of sweet thirds and sixths,
intensified by poignant suspensions. The vocal line is
suave and lyrical; it moves primarily by step without
notated fioriture. The harmonies are rooted in D minor,
which is firmly established at the outset; the return to
D at the end of the stanza is heightened by an extended
dominant elaboration and a massive hemiola cadence
(mm. 42-51). Although this aria has no ground bass per
se, its overall motion is one of relentless stepwise descent,
which pulls the listener into the tragic beauty of the
scene.
Cavalli's music for Calisto is also full of lyrical effusions. He carefully highlighted each of her many moods
-exhaustion, prim defiance, ecstasy, despair, and finally
devotion-with a sensitively crafted aria. Her entrance
aria, "Piante ombrose" (act 1, scene 2), effectively illustrates how depleted Calisto feels after wandering the
forest in search of water. The aria opens with a bleak,
continuo-only ostinato whose pitch outline (E to A to E)
lacks the energy to rise to the expected fifth scale
degree.47 Thus the harmonies hover listlessly around E,
xxi

which only declares itself as the tonic at the end of the

stanza. Calisto too seems devoid of energy: she speaks at
first in a low monotone, then gradually becomes more
animated as she reacts to the devastation wrought by
Giove's thunderbolt. Cavalli represents her growing anxiety by using increasingly higher registers of her voice;
sequential repetitions,offbeat accents, and occasional dissonances also contribute to the effect. At the conclusion of
the aria, Calisto breaks into recitative to condemn Giove,
unaware that he is standing just a few feet away.
Cavalli's setting of Calisto's "Non G maggior piacere"
(act 1, scene 4) is equally remarkable. Through rapid
syllabic motion, energetic syncopations, and ebullient
runs, he conveys her joy at living alone and free, unencumbered by sexual relationships with men. As Calisto
gallops toward the final cadence, Cavalli suddenly
switches into duple meter for the words "G il dolce, il
caro" (mm. 62-67), which are set to a remarkable dissonant and chromatic progression that ascends to the highest note of the piece. In Heller's view, this "sequenced,
gasping ascent . . . depicts a more visceral, physical pleasure than might be associated with hunting." She suggested that through this and other dissonant passages in
this aria (such as the series on the word "amaro" [mm.
51-54]) Cavalli revealed Calisto's "potential as a desiring
woman."48
Heller's underlying point-that in denying her interest in men and sex Calisto means the opposite of what
she says-is borne out by her very next solo, "Piacere
Maggiore" (act 1, scene 10). This number portrays
Calisto's ecstatic response to her sexual encounter with
Giove-in-Diana. Here Cavalli echoed the style of her
earlier "Non G maggior piacere," complete with high
runs and a concluding shift to duple meter. In so doing
he reinforced the wordplay that Faustini had built into
the texts of these two numbers ("There is no greater
pleasure than, by hunting animals, to escape the
wheedling entreaties of men" vs. "No greater pleasure
could a heart feel. . . than the one my spirit just enjoyed";
see "Giovanni Faustini and the Libretto of La Calisto:
Giove-in-Diana and Calisto" above). Thus Calisto's defiant anti-sex aria "Non & maggior piacere" is surely
intended to be heard as "famous last words."
Heller speaks eloquently and often of the "new musical language" that Calisto "learns . . . after her encounter
with Giove."49 As attractive as this idea is, I have to confess that I do not see any particular change in style
between Calisto's pre-sex (act 1, scenes 2-5) and post-sex
music. I agree with Heller that the tiny aria Calisto sings
after Diana's rejection ("Piangete," act 1, scene 11) is
unusually intense. Here Calisto voices her pain in a
meandering, chromatic melody that is all the more tragic
for being set over primarily major chords. Yet this does
not seem like a new language: "Piangete" recalls the desolate, spare style of "Piante ombrose," the poignancy of
Calisto's recitative in act 1, scene 2, as well as the dissonances of "Non 6 maggior piacere." The unresolved half
cadence on "perche" that ends both stanzas of "Piangete"
can indeed be heard as conveying a Wagnerian sense of
sexual yearning. But the half cadence was also a standard
xxii

device for setting question words; there are several examples in Calisto's pre-sex music (cf. "Piante ombrose,"
mm. 13-17, 72; act 1, scene 2, mm. 137-44). The first
stanza of "bdecoro," which is essentially an extended
question from Giove-in-Diana to Calisto, concludes
with a half cadence; the second stanza, in which Calisto
replies to the question, concludes with a full cadence
(m. 30). The fact that Giove's motives are entirely sexual
adds a delicious layer of meaning to this half cadence, but
its primary meaning is grammatical. Heller rightly
observes that "Piangete" seems to exert a certain power
over Linfea, who in the very next scene decides to abandon her vows of chastity (act 1, scene 12). Yet it was
Endimione, the man who ultimately declares himself to
be "the lord of his senses," who started Linfea thinking
about these matters. After meeting him for the first time
in act 1, scene 8, she is struck by his behavior: "How he
encloses bitterness, sweetness, torment, and delight in his
heart, and creates a strange mixture of joy and sorrow"
(act 1, scene 9).
One curious aspect of La Calisto is that the lyrical
weight of the opera is borne primarily by Calisto and
Endimione; the other two principals-Giove and Diana,
including Giove-in-Diana-are given no substantial arias
to sing. Nonetheless, they do participate in numerous
ensembles and sing some lovely ariosi and ariette; in
addition Diana and Giove-in-Diana each sing one
stanza of a two-person aria ("Vivi, vivi" and "0decoro").
Secondary characters such as Satirino and Linfea are
more aria-oriented than Giove and Diana; Giunone and
Pane also have some important numbers. Raymond
Leppard corrected what he saw as the imbalance in
Diana's role by inserting two arias from other Cavalli
operas (see appendix 3). Modifications like these were
indeed common in seventeenth-century revivals, as arias
came more and more to dominate operatic culture.50

Ariosi
There are many spots in La Calisto where the singer suddenly switches to a more florid, metrical style, often
marked by a change to triple meter. But since these passages lack the tonal closure, formal repetition, and/or
length characteristic of arias, they are best viewed as
ariosi. Faustini specified many ariosi by writing brief sections of aria verse without repetitions. For instance, he
wrote Mercurio's "A questi ardori" (act 3, scene 4) as four
five-syllable lines describing the flashing of the sun's
rays: in a marvelous display of text-painting, Cavalli set
them as an explosion of virtuoso passagework that is
brief, freely-structured, and tonally open.51 Other ariosi
consist of lines of recitative that Cavalli singled out for
special treatment. A good example is Giove's first
glimpse of Calisto, which elicits the lyrical "Oh, che luci
serene" (act 1, scene 1).Cavalli often used arioso for the
final line or two of a character's speech, for example,
Linfea's one-line confession of her interest in men, "Cosi
non credo" (act 1, scene 12),and Calisto's games with the
echo, "Qui, dove" (act 3, scene 1). In both of these cases,
Cavalli highlighted the arioso by supplying a concluding
sinfonia. Arioso writing is particularly common in love

scenes, as if the characters are so transported by the

sweetness of the moment that they must go beyond ordinary speech (e.g., Giove-in-Diana and Calisto [act 1,
scene 51, Diana and Endimone [act 2, scene 21).
But here too Cavalli played with the distinctions
between aria, arioso, and recitative. For instance, he gave
two soliloquies in recitative verse ("Sonno, cortese
sonno" and "Candidi corridor?') the length, complexity,
and lovely melodies typical of arias, yet denied them a
repeat scheme or tonal closure. Conversely, Cavalli gave
an aria-like integrity to La Natura's "Alme pureu-a
recitative that blossoms into arioso only on the last three
words-by beginning and ending the passage in the
same key and framing it with ritornelli.
Pane, 'Silvano, and Satirino speak almost entirely in
arioso. This peculiarity is built into Faustinifs poetry: as
was traditional for rustic verse, each of their lines ends
with a sdrucciolo (dactylic) rhythm. Since this type of
word ending is relatively rare in Italian, its insistent use
here lends an alien, singsong quality to their speech. In
order to capture this quality, Cavalli abandoned recitative
and adopted instead a lilting, tuneful style that is interspersed with arias, ariettas, and numerous ensembles.52

singers' emotional nuances and provides the energy,

pacing, and momentum to carry the drama forward.
Throughout the ope;a, Cavalli relied on a close, intuitive
relationship between singers and continuo players,
one that allowed both parties tremendous expressive
freedom and permitted the poetry to speak with great
immediacy.
The remaining instruments in the band (strings a 3)
have a tiny, but nevertheless critical, role to play. Cavalli
used them primarily to reinforce the opera's musical
structure. Short ritornelli frame many of the strophic
arias; brief sinfonie conclude several of the one-stanza
arias, ensembles, and a few ariosi. Some of these ritornelli
and sinfonie perform a double duty by covering set
changes and singers' exits. The strings also play the opening sinfonia and the two balli between the acts. But they
rarely actually accompany the voice: even in accompanied arias they mostly play when the voice is resting. (See
also "Sources and Premiere Production: The Orchestra"
and "Notes on Performance: The Role of Non-Continuo
Instruments" below.)

E nsembles

There are three main sources for editing La Calisto; all

derive from her one and only season onstage:
1. Manuscript production score (Venice, Biblioteca
Nazionale Marciana, It. Cl. IV. Cod. 353 [= 98871):
The only surviving musical source for La Calisto is
part of an important group of Cavalli manuscripts
acquired by the Venetian nobleman Marco
Contarini, probably shortly after the composer's
death.53 It was copied by Cavalli's wife Maria (his
principal copyist until her death in 1652) and an
assistant; it also contains several layers of corrections and revisions in the composer's hand. Maria
Cavalli and her copying team used this score as an
exemplar for preparing the vocal and instrumental
parts; Francesco Cavalli and his continuo team used
it as a continuo part for accompanying rehearsals
and performances.
2. Printed libretto (Venice: Giuliani, 1651):54Designed
for purchase by audience members, the libretto was
issued shortly before opening night. Faustini wrote
the dedication and presumably supervised the printing. It contains an appendix with three added
scenes for which no music survives.
3. Manuscript account book for the 1651-52 season at
the Teatro S. Aponal (Venice, Archivio di Stato,
Scuola Grande di S. Marco, b. 112):55 This book is
one of many important documents that Beth and
Jonathan Glixon have unearthed concerning the
impresarial activities of Giovanni and Marco
Faustini.56 It is in Marco's hand and summarizes
contracts and payments to everyone from Cavalli to
the stagehands. It also provides important information about La Calisto's scenery and staging that is
lacking in the score and libretto; an abbreviated version of this information has been included in this
edition.

The score of La Calisto is particularly rich in ensemble

writing, something that all but disappeared from Italian
opera later in the century. These numbers help propel the
action in group scenes while creating a musical contrast
with the recitative dialogue. Cavalli's score contains seventeen substantial duets and trios-two of which grow
out of arias-plus two four-part choruses in the finale;
it also includes several tiny duets (under twelve measures long). Although five of the ensembles in La Calisto
have ABA refrain structures and seven have concluding
sinfonie, most are more freely organized than the solo
numbers.
The ensembles are some of the most delightful pieces
in the whole opera. Highlights include the lively duet
that Giove-in-Diana and Calisto sing as they skip off "a
baciarsi" and the two stunning duets in act 3 that signal
the resolution of each love plot in turn ("Mio foco fatale"
and "Dolcissimi baci"). Ensembles are especially common in the scenes where Satirino, Pane, and Silvano gang
up on Endimione; the two-stanza trio "Miserabile," with
its "pity-party" chromatic inflections, is particularly
effective, as is the mockingly canonic "Legato" and the
coarse "Cintia, la casta dea." Cavalli concluded the opera
with a glorious ground bass duet between Giove and
Calisto, with asides from Mercurio ("Mio tonante"). Both
the location of this number and its musical style are reminiscent of the famous final duet in L'incoronazione di
Poppea, whose score Cavalli had helped to revise.

Instrumental Music
Modern listeners who are accustomed to huge operatic
voices soaring above a continuous orchestral texture will
doubtless be struck by Cavalli's comparatively sparing
use of the orchestra. But in this repertory it is the continuo, rather than the orchestra, that intensifies the

Sources and Premiere Production

Although this list of sources may seem meager by later

standards, by seventeenth-century standards it represents a veritable gold mine. Production scores from this
period are extremely rare; most autographs and almost
all performing parts have disappeared, and no printed
scores were ever produced.57 Most of the correspondence
and business records are lost as well. Together the three
surviving sources of La Calisto enable us to reconstruct
an exceptionally detailed picture of the opera's brief production history.
The premiere of La Calisto took place on 28 November
1651 at the Teatro S. Aponal in Venice, an intimate hall
that seated about four hundred. Giovanni Faustini was
the impresario of the theater; his brother Marco was the
business manager.58 After Giovanni's sudden death,
Marco took over his brother's duties and went on to have
an important career as an opera impresario.59 The theater
management also included MarcJAntonio Correr
(Corraro), the Venetian nobleman to whom Giovanni
Faustini dedicated the printed libretto of La Calisto.60 For
the 1651-52 season, Giovanni planned to stage two of
his own dramas, both with music by Cavalli: La Calisto
in late November and December, then L'Eritrea in January
and February.

The Cast
The original company of ten singers seems to have been
mostly set by late September; the final two were hired in
mid-October. Although there is no record of what roles
these people actually . performed, this information is
fairly easy to work out from context (see table U.61 With
fifteen roles and ten singers, some cast members obvi-

ously sang more than one character. The five minor roles
that could have easily tagged onto the major ones are La
Natura, L'EternitA, and I1 Destino in the prologue, plus
the two Furies, who only appear in two scenes. Since
these five match closely with five of the main roles (in
terms of range and style), I propose the following doubling~:Pane as La Natura, Calisto as L'EternitB, Satirino
as 11 Destino, and Satirino and Linfea as the Furies.62 The
"Coro di Menti Celesti" in the final scene must have been
sung by everyone who was not onstage already: Satirino,
Linfea, Giunone, Pane, and Silvano.63 There were also
four cornparse (nonsinging extras) who padded out this
chorus and played the silent "Coro di Ninfe Arciere di
Diana" (Chorus of Diana's Nymph-Archers) in act 1.64
The company had two leading women, Margarita da
Costa and Catterina [Giani], both engaged for the same
fee. Margarita was probably the one cast as Calisto, since
Marco Faustini slipped her a bonus worth L. 372.65 (Not
to be outdone, Catterina had the Faustinis pay for her
boat to the theater each night.66) If Margarita played
Calisto, then Catterina played Diana, and surely Giovein-Diana as well, since Diana's role by itself is rather
small to merit such a large salary (see further discussion
of this point in "Notes on Performance: Casting" below).
The remaining woman, Nina dal Pavon, was paid a much
lower fee and must have sung Giunone. The two boys,
Andrea and Cristoforo Caresana, were undoubtedly cast
as Linfea and Satirino. The alto castrato Bonifatio
[Cerettil was offered the same amount as Margarita and
Catterina; he was evidently meant to sing Endimione.
Don Giulio Cesare [Donatil, a baritone who later became
one of Antonio Cesti's famous Innsbruck Karnrnerrnusiker,

TABLE 1
Original Cast of La Calisto, Arranged by Voice Type
Probable roles in La Calisto

Singers contracted for the 1651-52 season

Hire date

Singer

Contracted fee
(for two operas)

Voice type

Character

Aug. 4

Margarita da Costa

L. 1860

soprano

Sept. l6

Catterina [Giani]

L. 1860

soprano

Oct. 17
Aug. 25

Nina dal Pavon

Andrea Caresana
(age 10 or ca. 19)
Cristoforo Caresana
(age ca. 10)

L. 806
[L. 4651
[L. 4651

soprano
boy soprano or
castrato
boy soprano

Bonifatio [Cerettil
Fra Tomaso da Bologna
[Tomaso Bovil
''Tenor di Carrara"
[Francesco Guerra?]
Don Giulio Cesare [Donatil
Don Pellegrino [Canner]

L. 1860
L. 930

alto castrato
[alto castratol

L. 930

tenor

Calisto
L'EternitA
Diana
Giove-in-Diana
Giunone
Linfea
Furia 1
Satirino
Furia 2
I1 Destino
Endimione
Pane
La Natura
Mercurio

L. 1240
L. 372

baritone
bass

Giove
Silvano

Aug. 25

Aug. 25
Aug. 19
Sept. 22
Aug. 8
Oct. 14

xxiv

Clef in MS score

clearly sang Giove. He was paid twenty-five percent less

for the two operas than the other three principals, probably since Giove only appears in five scenes (this information supports'the hypothesis that Diana, and not Giove,
sang Giove-in-Diana). The anonymous "tenor from
Carrara" [Francesco Guerra?] was Mercurio, the only
tenor role. The bass Don Pellegrino [Canner], given his
tiny fee, surely sang Silvano. The alto role of Pane must
therefore have been sung by "Fra Tomaso da Bologna,"
who was most likely Don Tomaso Bovi, an alto castrato
famous for his comic acting.67
Two major changes in the cast later occurred. One was
due to a sudden disaster: the star castrato, Bonifatio,
became ill eighteen days before opening night (i.e.,
November 10) and died shortly thereafter (December 5).
The Glixons rightly observe that "the account book . . .
lists no singer of his stature or pay scale as a replacement."68 Nonetheless, the musical sources of the two
operas provide some clues to how the company coped
with this disaster: they split Bonifatio's roles between
two people.69 In La Calisto, Cavalli transposed and
rewrote Endimione for a soprano, whereas in L'Eritrea he
adapted the corresponding role of Theramene for a baritone.70 The account book in fact lists two additional
singers who were hired late in the game, probably in
response to Bonifatio's illness.71 These are: (1) a "young
girl (putella) contracted for the first opera," who was on
board by opening night when Faustini paid for some
"pearls for the girlU;72and (2) a "Signor Lorenzo," who
came from Bologna in mid-December and probably only
sang in L'Eritrea.73 But the newcomers were clearly not
the Bonifatio replacements per se, as both were paid quite
humble amounts. Moreover, it is highly improbable that
this unnamed girl sang La Calisto's romantic male lead,
especially wearing pearls-she more likely performed
the damigella role of Linfea. Thus I suspect that existing
cast members were reassigned to Bonifatio's roles and the
two new singers were hired simply to take their places.
According to this hypothesis, for L'Eritrea, the baritone
Giulio Cesare Donati was promoted to the role of
Theramene and Lorenzo assumed Donati's original role;
for La Calisto, one of the Caresana boys was recast as
Endimione and the "young girl" took over as Linfea.
Claire Fontijn has raised the intriguing possibility that
this "putella" might have been Antonia Padoani (later
Bembo), a child who by 1654 had been studying with
Cavalli. That the "putella" was Cavalli's student might
explain why she took on a role in La Calisto at short notice
in 1651 and also was not listed by name-unlike the other
singers-in the records.74
The second cast change may also have been related
to Bonifatio's illness. Three new comic scenes were
added featuring a new character-the Bifolco (drunken
shepherd)-who is accompanied briefly by Linfea (see
appendix 1).Faustini himself was probably the author of
these scenes, as they make frequent reference to the
characters (Endimione, Diana, Pane, Giove) and topics
(Diana's affair with Pane, Endimione's failures as a shepherd) featured in the rest of the libretto; they also engage
the physical locations (the forest; the spring at the source

of the Ladon River) in quite a detailed fashion. But if not

Faustini, then the author was someone with a thorough
working knowledge of the "host" drama; they are certainly not generic "drunken shepherd" scenes. This revision was made very late, after Cavalli's scribes had
copied the score and after the printer had typeset most
of the libretto; all that remains in the score is Cavalli's
added instructions "Qui v6 la scena del Bifolc0."75 But the
Bifolco scenes were certainly introduced before opening
night, since the printer was able to squeeze them in at
the end;76 Marco Faustini also paid for some "scarpe
da Villan" (shoes for the Peasant) on the day of the
premiere.77
It is easy to imagine the Faustinis inserting these new
scenes to cast a veil of comic cheer over what was becoming an increasingly desperate situation. They may also
have been hoping to compensate the loss of one star performer by playing to the strengths of another. The style of
the Bifolco's role strongly suggests that Tomaso Bovi did
participate in La Calisto, as this part is similar to ones he
sang in other operas.78 Moreover, "Fra Tomaso" was paid
substantially more than his original contract stipulated,
and thus may have done the Bifolco as well as Pane and
La Natura.79 In any case, an existing member of the cast
probably performed this role, as the account book names
no other viable singer.

The Orchestra
The "orchestra" for La Calisto consisted of just six people.80
Cavalli directed the group and presumably played the
first harpsichord. Two other musicians, "Martino" and
"Francesco," probably played continuo instruments (e.g.,
harpsichord and/or theorbo). Two violins (one on each
part) played the ritornelli and sinfonie. The group also
included a violone (a bass violin at 8' pitch) that joined
the violins for the ritornelli and probably helped out with
the continuo line in other places as well. It is worth noting
that the amount earned by the entire band, including the
instrument tuner, was less than twenty-five percent of
what the company of singers was paid.81

The Production Score

La Calisto's sole surviving musical source is a complex
and messy document, whose many layers chronicle the
evolving state of the opera. Although the revisions are
mainly in Cavalli's hand, most were probably instigated
by other people for reasons beyond his control. There is
no particular evidence to suppose that the composer tinkered with the music after he gave it to the copyists, other
than to correct obvious errors and omissions.
The score of La Calisto speaks volumes about the time
constraints under which Cavalli and his production team
worked, as well as the efficiency with which they managed their time. Their first priority was evidently to get
the singers their parts for acts 1-3; the prologue and the
instrumental parts were put off until later. Maria Cavalli
was probably at work by early August, for on August 9
Marco Faustini sent her money to buy music paper.
Another batch of supplies was purchased in mid-October
(just after the cast had been finalized), probably at the

moment when the copyists began work on L'Eritrea.82 By

the time Bonifatio's condition had become acute
(between November 10 and 28)) the scribes had completed the score of La Calisto and were apparently
halfway through LIEritrea, as Theramene's switch from
alto to baritone occurs in the middle of act 2.83
Maria and her assistant, whom Peter Jeffery dubbed
"Scribe 03,"84 copied acts 1-3 of La Calisto more or less
straight through, working presumably from Cavalli's
autograph (now lost). They entered the music and the
headings in short installments, then Maria came back and
wrote in the words. She made one more pass through to
fix note errors and adjust the text underlay. The scribes
left numerous staves blank, mostly in the instrumental
sections: in fact, only five of the ritornelli/sinfonie and
two of the orchestrally accompanied numbers were
entered at this stage. These omissions suggest that the
autograph was likewise full of blanks-that is, that Cavalli
had not yet finished composing the instrumental music.
Even so, the production score was clearly designed to
serve as the exemplar for copying the instrumental performing parts. This fact is revealed by the curious presence of not just one, but two and sometimes three
"Ritornello" or "Sinfonia" labels for every instrumental
segment (see plate 3). The scribes generally placed one
label beneath each of the two violin lines and often a third
near the basso continuo line; Cavalli later went through
the score and added any labels they missed. The best
explanation of these redundant inscriptions is that they
were meant to be transferred to the parts. This hypothesis is supported by a set of labels in the prologue on folio
6v. Here both violin lines are labeled "Calisto" at the
point where the instruments enter with the voices for the
refrain "Calisto alle stelle." As the coordination of this
entrance would have been obvious to anyone looking at
the score, the "Calisto" incipit was clearly meant to cue
violinists who were reading from parts.
Once Maria had finished proofreading the score,
Francesco reviewed it quite carefully, fixing pitches,
rhythms, text, accidentals, and figures; next Maria's team
probably copied the vocal parts.85 Francesco then turned
his attention to the instrumental music: he filled in many
of the blank staves (see plate 3) and added missing
"Ritornello" labels. But he was clearly in a great hurry, for
as he approached the end of the opera he started leaving
out the upper lines (for a total of seven ritornelli and two
accompanied numbers). This music must have been
copied into the violin parts directly from his composing
materials, bypassing the "score" phase of the copying
operation.86
Cavalli's omission of these upper parts allows us to
glimpse the multiple ways in which this manuscript was
used. After it had served as an exemplar for copying
the parts, it ceased being a "master score" in the modern
sense and became instead a continuo part. Due to
Cavalli's haste, he began this transformation before the
end of the opera, entering in the blank instrumental
staves only what was most essential for the continuo
player: the bass line. After this point he probably marked

any revisions that did not concern the continuo line

directly onto the vocal and instrumental parts, which are
unfortunately lost.87
Cavalli himself clearly played from this manuscript:
he made numerous changes in the bass line to improve its
legibility. The scribes tended to put a single whole note
smack in the middle of the measure, which can be confusing for someone trying to coordinate the bass and
vocal parts in real time. In many spots throughout the
manuscript Cavalli later added a tail to the whole note
and placed another half note (with a tie) at the beginning
of the measure (see, for example, fols. 97r and 110r).Since
this change has no audible effect, it was obviously done
for the sake of legibility. Cavalli also marked a page-turn
cue;m similarly, the two instructions "Qui va la scena del
Bifolco" and the two ballo headings can be read as
reminders to grab another stack of music. In addition, he
probably marked some of the corrections to pitches,
rhythms, words, and figures while playing for rehearsals.
But someone else used this score too, probably one of
the other continuo players: an unknown hand scribbled
"Gira" (turn) in large red letters as a reminder that the
music of a last-minute ritornello insertion was on the following page (see plate 4). Since there were apparently
three continuo players in the band, there must have once
been two other continuo parts; these parts, however, may
not have contained the complete opera.
After the vocal parts had been distributed to the performers, the typical process of revision began. Appendix
1 provides a complete list of the changes marked in this
manuscript. Of these, the most numerous were transpositions, which Cavalli notated with rubrics such as "alla
quarta alta"; he surely made additional adjustments in
the performing parts to fine-tune these transpositions.89
He put most of Endimione's role up a fourth or a fifth to
accommodate the new singer; these changes caused portions of other roles to be transposed as well. He also
recomposed one brief passage in the margin (see plate 2).
But there remain several apparently untransposed passages in Endimione's line; these were probably fixed by
altering individual notes in the vocal line and hence were
not registered in the score. The score also contains transpositions that are unrelated to the Endimione problem:
Cavalli marked isolated rubrics in most of the other roles.
The fact that these transpositions seem to appear "out of
the blue" at first seems odd. But Cavalli probably made
numerous range adjustments to all the roles, which he
marked on the performing parts; the production score
records only those changes that affect the continuo line.
The most significant amount of recomposing that
Cavalli did was in act 3, scene 2, where he rewrote the
Furies' duet. Unfortunately,however, he only notated the
new bass line; the vocal parts are lacking. As far as we can
tell from this bass line, the main effect of the revision was
to shorten the piece by eliminating a transposed repeat of
the B section in each stanza. It is possible that Cavalli
rewrote this piece as a trio, instead of a duet: most mythological sources mention three Furies (perhaps the duet
was rewritten because there were complaints from the

audience about this being a "low-budget" production).

Such a trio could easily have been performed by the two
Caresanas and the "girl." In the absence of any evidence
to support this.theory, however, I have reconstructed it as
a duet (see appendix 1).
Cavalli seems to have composed the prologue and the
act 1 sinfonia last; at any rate, this portion of the opera
was copied later than the rest of the score and is the only
place in the manuscript where all the instrumental music
is consistently present (see plate 1). But here again we see
signs of haste: Maria stopped entering the words to the
prologue after "Chi qua sale." Fortunately the missing
text is preserved in the printed libretto.
Besides the prologue and act 1 sinfonia, the Furies'
music, and the Bifolco scenes, the only pieces Cavalli
added to the score were reiterations of the ritornelli and
one new sinfonia. He seems to have left the final decision
about the placement of instrumental music until late in
the compositional process, perhaps in response to decisions made during rehearsals about staging. As originally
notated, none of the set pieces begins with a ritornello; he
subsequently added an opening ritornello to four arias
(see plate 41, as well as a concluding ritornello or sinfonia
to five numbers.
There were also several cuts in the opera. After
Endirnione's role had been transposed, a few measures of
his recitative and the first stanza of Pane, Silvano, and
Satirino's trio "Miserabile" were crossed out, as was Pane
and Silvano's duet "Legato" in act 3. The final round of
cuts, marked in red crayon, was probably made shortly
after the premiere: two entire scenes were eliminated (act
2, scene 3, for Endimione solo (see plate 3); and act 1,
scene 14, for Satirino solo), as well as the two choruses in
the final scene.

The Reception of La Calisto

Despite the last-minute solutions-transposing roles,
adding new scenes, cutting other scenes, inserting extra
ritornelli, etc.-that the Faustinis devised to cope with
Bonifatio's death and other production problems, nothing seemed to work: as the Glixons put it, "Calisto was a
flop."90 The house was slightly more than half full at the
premiere and attendance went downhill from there; some
performances had as few as fifty-six people.91 And to top
it all off, Giovanni Faustini died suddenly in the middle
of the run (December 19). The company struggled on
without him for four more evenings, but they finally
pulled the plug on La Calisto December 31 after only
eleven performances. The opera was not performed
again until Leppard's revival in 1970.
Many theories have been advanced to explain why La
Calisto died at the box office. The most commonly voiced
opinion is that the opera's overt eroticism-especially the
"lesbian" love scenes-might have been shocking to
seventeenth-century audiences.92But as discussed above,
the Giove-in-Diana scenes can be read in many ways,
including ones that are essentially heterosexual. Furthermore, the myth and its outcome were well known in the
seventeenth century; thus the audience may have devel-

oped a certain detachment, an unquestioning acceptance

of things that were bizarre simply because that was the
way the story went. In any case, Venice was renowned as
a haven for "libertine" attitudes, particularly during carnival season when the operas were staged. As Heller has
pointed out, eroticism was especially permissible in
operas that, like La Calisto, were based on Arcadian
themes.93 Hence, Heller proposed that La Calisto failed for
precisely the opposite reason. In her view, the work's
final message, which she interprets as the suppression of
female sexuality in favor of religious sublimation, may
not have been well received in "the carnival city of
Venice."94 Jane Glover and Christopher Mossey, too, have
linked the chilly reception of the opera to its libretto.
Glover has suggested that the double-plot format
resulted in "an unevenly constructed text in which
[Faustini'sl normal fluency was lacking."95 Mossey, in
turn, has proposed that the opera failed because it lacks
"climactic points" such as "a character's self-realization,
the recognition scene, and . . . a last-minute denouement";
he observed, furthermore, that mythological plots were
out of fashion.96
A general trend away from mythological subjects may
well have kept some people from buying tickets to Ln
Calisto in 1651, but I doubt whether more specific
"defects" in the libretto were so widely known by potential buyers to have had such a dramatic impact on ticket
sales. In my opinion, the primary causes of Calisto's
demise are more likely to be found in the mundane world
of theater business. As the Glixons have pointed out, the
Faustinis held the premiere about a month earlier than
the traditional opening of the Venetian opera season;
their risky plan to "scoop" the other theaters seems to
have backfired.97 And in a culture where singers were
rapidly becoming the audience's main focus of attention,
the single most important cause of La Calisto's box-office
problems was surely the lack of a star castrato. Yet, whatever the reasons for the opera's failure in the seventeenth
century, it has been a resounding success in more recent
times.

Staging the Premiere Production: Scenery,

Costumes, Dance
Much of the effect of a baroque opera came from its
visual impact: the scene changes, special effects, costumes, and dances were certainly as important as the
music and poetry. Unfortunately, very little information
survives about these aspects of seventeenth-century
Italian operas. In the case of La Calisto, there are no extant
set or costume designs, nor any choreographies.
Fortunately, however, the account book provides ample
documentation in the form of summaries of contracts and
payments for supplies: in fact, the 1651-52 premieres of
La Calisto and LiEritrea are some of the best-documented
opera productions of the entire period.98 We can glean
further details from the language that Giovanni Faustini
put in the mouths of his characters. When all this data is
assembled, a rich and evocative picture emerges of what

La Calisto looked like on the stage. Although it may be

difficult to recreate some of these effects in modern theaters, I offer this discussion to help the reader develop a
more complete understanding of the opera as envisioned
by Faustini, Cavalli, and their design team, in the sincere
hope that these images may inspire some aspects of
future productions.
This section will survey the surviving information and
discuss selected topics. An abbreviated version of the
scenographic information presented below has been
included in both the musical edition and the English
translation, enclosed in brackets. For additional documentation, see appendix 2.

Scenery and Special Effects

Baroque stagecraft was remarkably sophisticated in ways
that are almost entirely lost today. Only a few theaters
still standing are capable of reproducing the visual marvels for which Italian designers such as Torelli were
known throughout the Western world.99 Although public
theaters like S. Aponal (one of Venice's smaller houses)
could not aspire to the grand effects of court theaters like
those in Paris or Vienna, they nonetheless put on quite a
show, even by today's standards. Most seventeenthcentury Venetian operas involved at least six set changes;
some had as many as ten or twelve. These set changes
were accomplished virtually instantaneously through an
ingenious system of sliding flats. The new flats were
loaded behind the old ones, then-thanks to ropes, pulleys, and numerous laborers sweating beneath the stage
-the old flats slid offstage sideways, traveling along
grooves in the floor, while the new ones slid onstage
simultaneously.
The complete system involved six basic elements:
1. A painted backdrop (prospetto), made of two pieces
that slid together. The backdrop could be placed at
various points up or downstage, but usually no further back than the middle of the stage. Two of the
sets in La Calisto are described as both "with backdrop" and "without backdrop"; this wording suggests that the backdrop opened or closed at some
point before the next complete change, thus providing a half set change.
2. Several pairs of sliding side flats (tellari) placed
in the front half of the stage. These were used for
virtually every set.
3. Several pairs of stationary side flats (lontani) placed
in the back half of the stage. Stationary flats were
used only for sets that did not have a backdrop. In
these scenes they joined with the sliding flats to
create a set that extended to the very back of the
stage. Since stationary flats did not slide, the stagehands had to replace them manually behind a
closed backdrop during the previous scene. Thus
the sets in La Calisto and other operas tend to alternate between those "with backdrop" and those
"without backdrop."
4. Ceiling/cloud flats that dropped down from above.
5. Trap doors throughout the stage floor for surprise
appearances and disappearances.

6. Machines for the descent/ascent of gods and other

creatures, for flying, waves, clouds, and other more
exotic "special effects."
La Calisto takes place in Pelasgia, a region of Greece
later renamed Arcadia after Arcade (Arcas), the son of
Calisto and Giove. Arcadia is the archetypal pastoral setting, widely thought to epitomize the ideal simplicity of
classical antiquity.100 The 1651 libretto of La Calisto specifies seven different stage sets; all are exterior scenes
appropriate to the frolicking of gods, nymphs, shepherds,
and satyrs (see table 2; the set titles are provided in italic
typeface in column 2). The painter, Signor Simon
[Guglielmi], was contracted to paint five of these sets. Of
the remaining two, the "Green Forest" probably used
stock scenery;"Jl the final "Empyrean" was planned as an
elaborate machine entirely built by the carpenter, Messer
Anastasio, although it seems that Signor Simon was later
called in to paint the clouds.102 In all cases, the score has
a brief passage of instrumental music-generally at the
end of the previous scene-to cover the noise of the scene
changes. These instrumental pieces include the final
ritornelli or sinfonie to three numbers ("Se non giovano,"
"Chi crede a femmina," and "Dolcissimi baci") and the
two entr'acte balli; the act 1 sinfonia surely also functioned in this manner.
Besides the final scene, the libretto describes another
eleven "special effects" (these are listed in roman typeface in table 2, column 2). Only one of these ("Calisto in
orsa") is provided in the sources as a stage direction per
se, but the remainder is made explicit by Faustini's
poetry. The "carpenter" section of the account book mentions nine of the twelve effects; the final descent of
Giove's chariot is implicit. The remaining two, Calisto's
transformation into a bear and back, did not involve the
carpenter.
The opera opened with a spectacular scene representing "the Cave of Eternity." This image derives from a
poem in praise of the Roman consul Stilichon by the
fourth-century Latin poet Claudius Claudianus:
Unknown, far away and forbidden to human minds, hardly
accessible to the gods, lies the horrid mother of the years, the
immense Cave of Eternity, whose vast loins give birth to the
times and summon them back. Surrounding the cave is a
serpent, who consumes everything with inexorablq power
and perpetually glistens with green scales; with his mouth
he devours the tail that he brings back around, retracing his
own beginnings with his silent slithering. Nature, the aged
guardian of the entrance, sits with dignified face in front of
the cave and flying souls hang down from all her limbs. A
venerable old man writes down the immutable laws; he
arranges the number of stars [in each constellation],their stable courses and their journeys, which . . . cause all creatures
to live and die. . . .
When the Sun [Apollo] stopped on the immense threshold
of this cave, powerful Nature ran to greet him, and the old
man, although he was the elder, bowed his grey head to
Apollo's proud rays. Then the adamantine door unlocked
itself and spontaneously opened; the deep sanctuary was disclosed, and the seat and the mysteries of eternity were
revealed. Here in predetermined places live the centuries,
whose faces are distinguished by various metals: here arc

TABLE 2
Stage Sets and Special Effects in the Venice 1651 Production of La Calisto
Location

Set Title / Effect Title

Description and Commentary

Musical Accompaniment
for Scene Change

Prologue

I. The Cave of Eternity

"The Cave of Eternity, with backdrop." (PI)

The cave is on a mountain peak: "But the road that leads here is rocky and tiring; the
way is mountainous and difficult." (L)
La Natura is "sculpted into the adamantine cave." (L)

opening sinfonia

The Serpent of Eternity

The Serpent of Eternity, a serpent biting its own tail, formed a huge rotating circle
that framed the entrance to the cave: "The Serpent of Eternity at the second teller
[i.e., downstage], which revolves around the whole stage" (M); "the circle that
the eternal serpent makes as he knots the origins of life" (L).
L'Eternith sits "in the middle of the stage, detached (M) on a throne (L), thus she
was probably elevated in a way that placed her in the center of the circle formed
by the Serpent of Eternity. She is writing in a large book. (L)
Martino was hired to paint "30 bracchia [60-90 feet] of canvas that encircled the
theater,"possibly related to the Serpent of Eternity. (P2)

II. Desiccated Forest

"Desiccated forest with the fountain, with backdrop and without backdrop." (PI)
The forest shows signs of a recent fire, the aftermath of Phaethon's disastrous ride
in Apollo's chariot: "The parched meadows send up to heaven smoke and fumes;
and the woods, stripped bare of flowers and leaves, can scarcely survive." (L)
A dried-up spring is visible: "From this abundant spring the waters are likewise lost."
(L)

act 1 sinfonia

Beginning of
The Descent of Giove
act 1, scene 1
and Mercurio

'The descent of Giove and Mercurio." (M)

"Giove, intent on conserving the things he had created, . . . descends with his nephew
Mercurio to the earth." (L)

act 1 sinfonia

Middle of
Water erupts from the
act 1, scene 2 dry spring

The "Desiccated Forest" backdrop probably opened at Giove's command to reveal

the "fountain on other side of the backdrop, in relief" (M); Giove: "See how the
cold the crystals gush forth from the abundant spring" (L).
The spring apparently used real water: "[Sig. Duodo] had the fountain made" and
bought a "valve for the fountain." ( Z )
The spring is also mentioned by Calisto in act 1, scene 4: "Oh, how just a few sips of
the sweet, cold liquid have quenched, along with the heat, my voracious desire,
which wanted to drink the rushing river dry. In this icy torrent, by bathing my face
and immersing my arms, I have cooled my boiling blood." (L)

Water starts before

"Vedi"; probably runs
through the end of act
1, scene 6.

This set is not mentioned in the account book; stock scenery was probably used.
"The flowers burst forth in competing blossoms, the greenery begins to sprout, and
throughout the desiccated forest every plant puts on a shady cloak of leaves." (L)

"Se non giovano," final

ritornello

Act 1, scene 1

Act 1, scene 7

111. [Green] Forest

TABLE 2 continued
Location

Set Title / Effect Title

Description and Commentary

Musical Accompaniment
for Scene Change

Act 2, scene 1

n/: The Summit of

"The Summit of Mount Lycaeus, with backdrop and without." (PI)

The scene most likely began in the "without backdrop" state. The backdrop then
closed (probably at the beginning of act 2, scene 4) so that the stagehands could set
up the back of the stage for the next scene.

Dance of Bears (end)

The scene evidently began in darkness; Diana probably appeared after Endimione
said: "My rising light, brightening the sky, let you appear to me more beautiful and
resplendent than ever." (L)
~iana'schariot was drawn by "white racers, swift stagsN (L) and was painted silver
(E).
"The chariot of Diana, which goes onto the mountain, which ascends. . ." (M)

"Lucidissima face"

Beginning of The Descent of Diana

act 2, scene 2

". . . and which descends." (M)

Diana: "Let's stop on the summit of Mount Lycaeus, let's pull up the reins." (L)

"Candidi corridor?'

Act 2, scene 5

"The plain of the Erymanthus, without backdrop." (PI)

There is a forest at the edge of the plain: 'Two satyrs emerge from the forest." (L, act
2 ballo)

"Chi crede a fernmina,"

final sinfonia

Mount Lycaats

Middle of act
2, scene 1

The Ascent of Diana as

the Rising Moon

V. The Plain of the

E ymanthus River

Beginning of The Descent of Giunone "The descent of Giunone on the chariot." (M)
a d 2, scene 5
Giunone's chariot was drawn by peacocks: "On this patch of earth I'll make my noble
birds descend." (L)

"Dalle gelose"

Act 3, scene 1 VI. The Source of the

Ladon River

"The fountains of the Ladon, with cutout backdrop." (PI)

A tree is onstage, which the carpenter was hired to construct (M); Pane and Silvano:
"Tied to the maple trees let's leave [Endimione] to waste away" (L).

Dance of Nymphs and

Satyrs (end)

Beginning of The Springs of the

act 3, scene 1 Ladon River

"Closed backdrop with a second backdrop for the fountains." (M)

The second backdrop was partially cut away (see above), allowing the closed backdrop
behind it and the spring to be seen.
This spring probably also used real water, which was meant to be audible throughout act 3, scene 1. Calisto: "Limpid and pure springs, to the sound of your murmuring, my goddess and I . . . will kiss each other eagerly; and we will make sweet
melodies, here, where with many voices Eco responds, the sound of kisses will be
united with the sound of water." (L)
The water was evidently still (also?)running in the Bifolco scene (act 3, between scenes
3 and 4), where the drunken Bifolco mistakes the spring for a barrel of wine: "Alas,
I recoil! . . . The barrel is leaking wine! Who put a hole in it?" (L)

probably runs throughout act 3, scene 1 and

the Bifolco scene

TABLE 2 continued
Location

Set Title / Effect Rtle

Description and Commentary

Musical Accompaniment
for Scene Change

Middle of act
3, scene 2

Calisto is turned into

a bear

Stage direction: "Calisto in orsa." (L and score)

Calisto descends and the Bear ascends through trap doors, probably concealed by a
smoke effect.
See possible payment "per far mutar orsa." (E)

none; occurs before "Ora,

nelle mie piume"

Middle of act
3, scene 4

Calisto returns to
human form

The Bear and the Furies descend, and Calisto ascends through trap doors, probably
covered by more smoke. Mercurio to Furies: "Descend to your abysses." (L)
Calisto: "0 King of the Universe, I feel myself reborn at the sound of your divine
voice. . . . I form speech and words, and in my original shape I admire the heaven
and the sun." (L)

none; occurs before

"Bella mia"

End of act 3,
scene 4

The Ascent of Giove,

Calisto, and Mercurio

Giove's chariot from act 1,scene 1, "should also have a different teller for ascending
with three people." (M)
Giove to Calisto: "I'd like to show you the immortal beauty of the Empyrean, where
you shall dwell after being made a goddess"; Giove, Calisto, Mercurio: "Let's
ascend to heaven." (L)

"A1 cielo" and sinfonia

Act 3, scene 8

VII. The Empyrean

'"The Empyrean, with clouds below and above." (M)

'"The scene with the clouds." (P)
This set was probably a machine that descended from above, with all performers
positioned on it, and remained suspended in midair. It contained a 'lofty dwelling,
made of pure and incorruptible materials" (L), near which stood Giove, Calisto,
and Mercurio (with Giove's chariot) and the Coro di Menti Celesti. There were
clouds above and below the machine.
Night, with stars. Coro: "Let the stars shine and sparkle more beautifully"; Giove:
"these starlit quarters." (L)

"Dolcissimi baci," final

sinfonia

End of act 3,
scene 8

The Descent of Calisto

and Mercurio

The account book does not mention this descent explicitly, but Faustini's poetry does.
Giove: "My lovely archeress, descend,. . . Mercurio, go with her"; Calisto:
"Happily, I leave"; Giove: "Sorrowing, I stay"; Mercurio: "Soon Fate will reunite
you"; Calisto: "I go, 0 Jove"; Giove: "0 beauty, go." (L)

"Mio tonante"

Key. References from Marco Faustini's account book (Venice, Archivio di Stato, k o l a Grande di S. Marco, b. 112): M = Marangon (carpenter), fols.
[32v]-[34r]; P1 = Pittore (painter), fols. 138~1-1391-1;P2 = Martino (painter's and carpenter's assistant), fols. 141~1-[42rl;E = Spese Estraordinarie (rniscellaneous expenses), fols. [16r]-[18rl; Z = notes at the back of the book, fol. 156rI. L = Libretto quotations.

collected the centuries of bronze, here those of iron rise

straight up, there shine those of silver. In a privileged region
of the cave, difficult to reach from the earth, stood the glowing group of golden years. Among these, from the precious
group, Apollo chooses a special year to be marked with the
name of Stilichon; then he orders everyone behind to follow
him, and at the same time, addresses them as they go with
these words: "Behold the consul for whom we have reserved
a century of better metal. Go, you years longed for by mortals,
bring back virtue; let the natures of men flourish again. . . ."
And the stars, revolving once again upon new courses, write
the name of Stilichon in the annals of eternity.103

Faustini's prologue to La Calisto shares many features

with Claudian's poem: not only the cave and the serpent
are present, but also Nature and the flying souls, the figure writing the laws of the universe, the admonition to
return to the cave with Virtue, and most particularly, the
arrival of a young god whose mission is to immortalize a
favorite person by changing the course of the stars.
Faustini most likely found this passage in one of the
many mythology sourcebooks that were printed in the
seventeenth century. All but the final section occurs in
Cartari's lmagini delli dei de gl'antichi, the leading sourcebook for artists and writers, whose eighteenth known
edition was published in Venice just four years before the
premiere of La Calisto.lo4The illustration in Cartari's book
(by Filippo Ferroverde) of "The Cave of Eternity" depicts
Apollo as a young man in Roman-style armor carrying a
lyre and a bow and arrow; he is standing on the left of the
picture, outside the cave entrance. The opening to the
cave is framed by a giant serpent with its tail in its mouth;
this image, as Cartari indicates, has been the symbol of
eternity since the days of the ancient Egyptians. Inside
the cave, within the circle outlined by the serpent, we see
an old, bearded man in a toga seated at a desk, writing
astrological symbols into a large book. Cartari tells us
that the old man is probably Destiny, although Boccaccio
named him Demogorgon.lo5 Inside the cave are four old
men sitting on steps; these represent the four centuries, or
ages. To the right of the cave entrance stands Nature, carrying a putto in her arms and surrounded by two flying
putti, one of whom seems to be emerging from the serpent. She is wearing a long tunic whose top has been
pulled down to reveal many breasts (a detail not mentioned by Claudian).
Giovanni Faustini made several changes in Claudian's
format. In La Calisto, the person writing the laws of the
universe is Eternity (a woman), not Destiny (an old man);
the young man who arrives at the cave is Destiny, not
Apollo; and the third figure is Nature, whom he describes
as carved into the cave itself, as Eternity is in Claudian's
description. For the 1651 production, Marco Faustini
hired Messer Anastasio to build Eternity's throne and the
machine for "the Serpent of Eternity." The serpent was to
be placed "at the second teller" (i.e., the second set of
grooves, near the front of the stage) and revolve "around
the whole stage." This wording suggests that the serpent
formed a huge rotating circle that was mounted vertically
so that it framed the audience's view of the action, much
as in Ferroverde's illustration.lo6

Six of the special effects in La Calisto were descents or

ascents of gods in elaborate chariots. All six were accompanied by specific pieces of music, whose significance
increases substantially once we understand how they are
linked to the visual effects. The first act opens with Giove
and Mercurio descending to the strains of a sinfonia. The
second act begins with a scene that combines an enchanting musical moment with a lovely visual effect: while
Endimione sings the opera's grandest aria, "Lucidissima
face," Diana as the moon rises in the night sky in a silver
chariot drawn by white stags. In the next scene Diana
descends to the top of the mountain, singing "Candidi
corridori." In act 2, scene 5, Giunone must have made a
splendid sudden entrance in the heavens, accompanied
no doubt by a clap of thunder; she descends slowly during the three stanzas of "Dalle gelose" in a chariot drawn
by giant peacocks. In act 3, scene 4, Giove and Mercurio
return to heaven with Calisto, singing the trio "A1
cielo."l07 Then in the final scene Giove disembarks and
sends Calisto back down to earth with Mercurio, while
all three sing the marvelous trio "Mio tonante" with
which the opera concludes.
Calisto's transformation into a bear in act 3, scene 2, as
well as her reverse transformation in act 3, scene 4, was
obviously handled with trap doors. The account book
lists a payment "per far mutar orsaU--perhapsfor chemicals to create smoke, a flash, and a bang to conceal the
switch.lo8 The Furies disappear down the trap with the
bear in act 3, scene 4.
The most evocative effects were reserved for the water
scenes. Faustini's drama includes two springs, with
which the characters engage actively. In act 1, scene 2,
Calisto is thirstily seeking water; to impress her Giove
causes water to flow from the dried-up spring. In act 1,
scene 4, Calisto returns to the spring and delights in the
pleasure of drinking the cool water and bathing her face
and arms. At the opening of act 3 Calisto awaits Giove-inDiana for another kissing session by the source of the
Ladon River. This scene is quite a magical one: it uses not
only visual but also aural effects, namely the burbling of
the spring and the sound of the echo. The Bifolco interacts extensively with the second spring: his entire scene
centers on the conceit that he has drunkenly mistaken it
for a barrel of wine. He fills his wine bottle, drinks, then
recoils in disgust when he realizes it is only water.
These spring scenes were evidently meant to be performed with real water. A memorandum at the back of
the account book indicates that Alvise Duodo, one of the
Faustinis' business partners, "had the fountain made" for
fifteen ducats, as well as a "valve for the fountain."lo9
Fifteen ducats was a considerable sum of money: thus the
fountain apparatus probably involved something more
sophisticated than a stagehand with a bucket. Since the
visual decorations for both springs were already being
handled by the painter and the carpenter (see below), it is
possible that most of this money went to provide some
sort of pumping mechanism. The pump and a barrel of
water were probably located beneath the stage, accessed
through one of the trap doors in the stage floor. It is
intriguing to note that, whereas the libretto calls these

items "fonte" (springs), the account book consistently

calls them "fontane" (fountains).
For the first spring (act 1, scenes 1-6), Signor Simon
was commissioned to paint a "Desiccated forest with the
fountain, with backdrop and without." This description
suggests that the dry spring was painted on the backdrop; at Giove's command the backdrop doubtless
opened to reveal the "fountain on the other side of the
backdrop, in relief" that Messer Anastasio was hired to
construct. The green forest set that followed this one (act
1, scenes 7-15) probably had a closed backdrop, which
allowed the stagehands to remove the "fountain in relief"
and change the stationary flats for the next scene.
For the second spring (act 3, scenes 1-7), Messer
Anastasio was asked to build a "closed backdrop with a
second backdrop for the fountains" and Signor Simon to
paint a "cutout backdrop." These references suggest that
the downstage backdrop of this pair was partially cut
away, creating a grotto effect that allowed the closed
backdrop behind it and the spring to be seen.110
Anastasio was probably charged with building some sort
of conduit for the water that was positioned against the
closed backdrop.
The final set depicted the Empyrean, "the highest
heaven or heavenly sphere in ancient and medieval cosmology."lll This scene was planned as a grand apotheosis in which Calisto ascends to the stars, then returns
to earth and mortal life as a bear. The action begins with
the Coro di Menti Celesti welcoming Giove, Calisto, and
Mercurio, who had just arrived in Giove's chariot. This
set consisted primarily of a machine. It depicted a "lofty
dwelling" and had "clouds below and above" (probably
on cloud-shaped tellari that slid in the grooves across
the stage floor and also dropped down from above). The
entire Empyrean machine probably also descended
from above, laden with soloists, chorus, and chariot, and
remained suspended in midair throughout the scene. It
was most likely constructed of several platforms; alternatively, Messer Anastasio may have attempted concentric
circles as a visual echo of the famous "white rose" of
Dante's Empyrean.112 The opera ended with Calisto and
Mercurio waving goodbye to Giove and descending to
the stage floor in Giove's chariot.

Costumes
Next to the singers (32 percent), the largest portion of the
Faustini's budget went for costumes (16 percent)."3 From
the payments to the tailor, the weaver, the embroiderer,
the shoemaker, etc., it seems clear that these costumes
were specially made for each production. The fabrics
included silk, satin, crape, wool, and linen (in green,
gold, flesh-pink, and red); they were trimmed with lace,
embroidery, and ribbons (in gold, silver, and bright red).
The singers wore rented or fake jewels and plumed
headdresses; numerous payments to a hairdresser (conza
teste), instead of a wigmaker, suggest that wigs were not
used. Masks, however, definitely were used in this production. According to the Glixons, it was the practice in
Venice for a character to wear a single costume throughout the drama.114

It was obviously Giove and Mercurio who wore the

two sets of Roman-style armor (breastplates, plumed helmets, and girdles); the remainder of their costumes was
embroidered (i.e., the skirts, capes, etc.). The libretto mentions that Giove is not carrying his traditional thunderbolt; likewise Mercurio does not have his winged sandals
or staff. The engraved frontispiece to the libretto-which
may or may not depict an accurate costume-shows
Calisto with a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder;
she is carrying a dart (a spear shaped like a very long
arrow). She wears a short tunic (midthigh) girded at the
waist; it has short, loose sleeves (just above the elbow)
and a square neck, with a round brooch at the center. She
has a garland in her hair, which is loosely gathered in a
ponytail; on her feet she has Roman-style between-thetoe sandals with straps that extend up to midcalf. Faustini's text confirms that Calisto, as well as Diana, Linfea,
and the other nymphs (the Coro di Ninfe Arciere di
Diana and the two dancers) were carrying bows, arrows,
and quivers. Since nymphs were traditionally pictured as
scantily clad, the flesh-colored (di carne) silk mentioned in
the account book may have been used for their costumes.
Giove-in-Diana surely wore the same costume as
Diana, perhaps with some accessory to help the audience
differentiate between the two. The ease of costuming is
yet another argument in favor of casting Giove-in-Diana
and Diana as the same singer.
The libretto describes Pane, Silvano, Satirino, and the
two dancing satyrs as having "goaty feet." Thus they
probably used the "twelve pieces of beaver fur" mentioned in the account book for leggings and tails,
although how the actual hooves were constructed
remains unclear. These characters were doubtless barechested, the way they are depicted in all visual sources;
they surely also wore masks, horns, and beards (except
Satirino, who tells us he has no beard). They probably
also donned that traditional satyr attribute, the phal1us.115 If these characters did wear phalluses, then the
aggressively sexual nature of Pane and his companionsa main theme throughout Heller's discussions of this
opera-would have been vividly apparent to the audience.116 We can conjecture that Satirino would have worn
a juvenile phallus: thus his undeveloped physique (a central topic of act 1, scene 13) would have been similarly
obvious to the audience.
The six dancing bears were dressed in wool (probably
natural sheepskin); they surely wore masks. One of these
bear costumes was doubtless recycled in act 3 for Calistoin-Orsa (Callisto-as-Bear). The dancers wore special
dancing shoes that were painted silver.
The Bifolco must have been the peasant for whom special shoes were bought on opening night (November 28).
His costume may have been made out of the fustagno (a
blend of linen and cotton, considered a rustic fabric) that
Faustini paid for a few days later.
After the show was over, Marco Faustini loaned out
several costumes (including the six bears, a satyr, a
peasant, and a suit of armor) to friends and business
associates-including Cavalli, who borrowed the armor.
Although Faustini does not indicate why these people

xxxiii

wanted the costumes, the first answer that leaps to mind

is a carnival party.

Dances
As Irene Alm has convincingly demonstrated, dance was
an essential element of seventeenth-century Italian
opera.117 Far from being extraneous entr'acte entertainment or "mere . . . decorative afterthought," dance in
Venetian opera was often intimately related to the
unfolding plot, as it is in La Calisto.ll8 Most operas had at
least two balli; these were usually placed between the
acts and thus-in an era before intermissions-served to
articulate the structure of the drama.
La Calisto's first ballo, the Dance of Bears, comes after
act 1, scene 15. As the scene ends, Satirino and Silvano
settle Pane for his afternoon nap in a soft bed of flowers,
singing the lullaby "Pane consolati." Then "six bears
emerge from the forest and form the dance." Dances
during sleep scenes are common in many types of
seventeenth-century musical drama."g Since Pane is a
god of the forests, it seems entirely appropriate for wild
animals to gather around him; the bears also foreshadow
Calisto's eventual transformation. But Heller suggests
that the bears play an even more important role in this
drama. In her article on dance in La Calisto, she points out
an interesting phenomenon: whereas both acts l and 2
begin with the loves of divine beings (Giove, Diana) and
superior mortals (Calisto, Endimione), they conclude
with the loves of "half-beasts" (Pane and Satirino). Heller
thus regards the bears as animals "brought to life by the
frustrated yearnings of all the Arcadian creatures . . .
[who] provide a vivid reminder of the beastly side of
Arcadian existence, the precarious boundary between
human and nonhuman, civilized and uncivilized that
underlies all Ovidian tales and illicit cravings."l20
The second ballo, the Dance of Nymphs and Satyrs, is
even more obviously integrated into the drama than the
first. At the end of act 2, scene 14, Satirino has decided to
punish Linfea's rejection "with a revenge made of sugar."
He summons his fellow satyrs to help him abduct Linfea,
but she calls out for assistance from her fellow nymphs.
At this point the dance begins. The libretto describes the
"plot" of the ballo as follows:
In answer to Satirino's summons, two satyrs emerge from
the forest, and at Linfea's call, four nymphs emerge armed
with darts. The nymphs, in trying to wound the half-beasts,
and the latter in warding off the threatening weapons, form
a dance, which ends with the retreat of the satyrs.121

Since Linfea and Satirino do not appear in act 3, this ballo

provides a rousing conclusion to their subplot. It is worth
noting that Leppard's version of La Calisto fundamentally
alters the scenario described above: not only is Linfea
recast as an old woman played by a man, but also the
satyrs are portrayed as the victors. Thus Leppard concludes the LinfealSatirino subplot with Satirino and his
cohorts hauling Linfea into the forest.122
There are no surviving choreographies for any
seventeenth-century Italian operas; most of the dance
music is also lost. Such, alas, is the case for La Calisto. We

do know that the choreographer for the Teatro S. Aponal

was "I1 Sardo" (the Sardinian), whose real name was
Giovanni Battista Martini; he was Marco Faustini's main
choreographer throughout the 1650s and 60s.123 He was
hired on September 1 for L. 651 to create two balli for
each of the two operas of the 1651-52 season; Cavalli
himself probably wrote the music.124 Martini was also
evidently responsible for hiring, training, and paying the
six professional dancers out of his own salary, although
the theater paid for their costumes.
Despite the dearth of surviving materials about
seventeenth-century balli, Alm was able to determine
several important things about theatrical dances and
their music. Her most interesting discovery is that, in
general, Venetian theatrical balli did not use the musical
styles of social dances (e.g., corrente, giga) and presumably did not use their steps either.125 New music was
especially composed for each choreography; it may even
have been composed after the choreography was set. The
surviving pieces have between two and four short
strains, sometimes in contrasting meters, that were probably repeated varying numbers of times.126 Some choreographies, especially comic ones, must have primarily
involved pantomime: the Dance of Nymphs and Satyrs in
La Calisto seems to have been of this type. Others probably formed a series of abstract geometrical patterns; the
Dance of Bears may have been one of these.
For his 1988 recording of La Calisto, Bruno Moretti
selected some instrumental works by Cavalli's contemporaries as replacements for the missing balli; these
pieces include the "Ballo delle Ninfe" from Cazzati's
Trattenimenti per Camera d'arie, correnti, e balletti (Bologna,
1660) and the "Balletto all'italiana" from Gandini's
Corenti et balletti alla francese, 8 all'Italiana (Venice,
1655).127Both are excellent choices in terms of their overall musical style and their specific relation to the drama;
their keys and instrumentation also match Cavalli's score
quite nicely. Thus I have included them in this edition,
newly edited from the original printed sources (see
appendix 4).
The evocative titles in Cazzati's publication ("Ballo
delle Ombre," "Ballo de' Sateri," etc.) are unique among
collections of instrumental music published in Italy during this period; they imply that these dances did originate in the theater. Under normal circumstances, such
pieces would have been discarded after the show in question had closed. By publishing them for the public at
large Cazzati extended their "shelf life," placing them in
a context where they could be used for social dancing
and/or chamber music-as the title of the collection
("Chamber Entertainments") suggests. The corrente
movements-rare in theatrical sources-were probably
appended for this publication.
Gandini's volume is less clearly associated with theatrical practice than Cazzati's. The term "balletto" was
often used interchangeably with "ballo" in theatrical
sources, but it was also used in social dance contexts. The
collection is roughly equally divided between pieces "in
Italian style" and those "in French style," with a couple of
dances "in German style" thrown in. In this period, the

dances of the French ballets de cour certainly circulated

outside the theater in arrangements for lute and harpsichord; they were probably co-opted for use as social
dances as well, as theatrical dances certainly were in the
early eighteenth century. But it is unlikely that an Italian
(other than Lully) would have been asked to compose
dances for an actual French theater; Gandini was probably simply imitating the style of such pieces (as his titles
suggest). Thus he may also have been imitating the style
of Italian theatrical dances.

The Musical Edition

Since La Calisto was produced only once and exists in
only one musical source, the task of editing this opera is
in some ways less complex than that of editing some
other works.128 Nonetheless, this single source poses its
own set of problems. The discussion below considers two
central issues: (1) how to represent the fluid nature of La
Calisto's text in a modern edition, and (2) how to bridge
the gap between Cavalli's private notation and twentyfirst-century expectations. The treatment of specific notational issues in this edition is discussed in the "Editorial
Policies" section of the critical report.

Representing Textual lnstability

As mentioned above, the messy production score of La
Calisto provides us with a rare opportunity to trace certain aspects of the work's genesis and production history.
This manuscript also raises significant methodological
issues for the editor. Traditional editorial theories aspire
to establish, for each work, a single text that represents
the author's definitive version. Yet, in the case of La
Calisto, there may never have been a point when the
opera existed in "the composer's definitive versionui.e., a complete, pristine state untouched by the hectic
demands of live performance and the many people
involved therein. Cavalli distributed parts to the singers
before he had finished the prologue or the instrumental
music. But while he was completing those, he was also
adjusting the vocal parts to suit the singers and responding to problems in staging, not to mention writing three
more scenes (probably at Faustini's request).
In this respect, La Calisto is like any other theatrical
work. And like fellow editors of theatrical (and other)
works in recent decades, I am reluctant to give the reader
an artificial impression of La Calisto as a stable, linear
text-much less Cavalli's "definitive" version. Nevertheless, an edition that is as messy as the original sourcehowever historically justified-will be difficult to read,
and thus impossible to use in actual performance. Hence
I have developed the following compromise: a clean
main text that contains discreet references to a small
number of major revisions, plus an appendix that treats
all revisions in full.
1. The main text of the musical edition represents the
version that the composer first released to the
singers-i.e., the layer that Maria Cavalli and her
assistant copied and that both Maria and Francesco
later corrected.

2. Subsequent revisions in the 1651 score and libretto

are briefly noted in the main text.
a. Cuts are marked with a message identifying the
measures affected (7 cases).
b. Major additions are indicated with a message
referring the reader to appendix 1, but are otherwise excluded from the main text (3 cases).
c. Essential items that Cavalli seems to have composed after the first layer was copied (the prologue, various ritornelli and sinfonie) are
included in the main text, marked with a dagger
(t)next to the heading (15 cases).
d. Repetitions of ritornelli that Cavalli inserted
after the first layer was copied are included in
the main text, marked with a double dagger (3)
(8 cases).
e. Transposition rubrics are not shown in the main
text, as their realization in performance requires
additional information.
3. Full documentation and alternate readings for
all revisions, including major additions and all
transpositions and corrections, are presented in
appendix 1.

Bridging the Notation Gap

Like other production materials, the surviving score of La
Calisto was a private document, intended for the personal
use of the composer, his copyists, and (possibly) his two
assistant continuo players. It was never meant to be seen
by anyone not directly supervised by Cavalli himself and
intimately acquainted with his notational style, as well as
his harmonic and contrapuntal style. Hence it does not
contain the level of detail, consistency, and accuracy that
a score prepared for "public" dissemination might ideally have had, much less what we might expect in a
modern edition. This manuscript was also prepared in
considerable haste; there were numerous notational
shortcuts and omissions. Given that the Italian opera
repertory between Monteverdi and Handel is almost
entirely unpublished and inaccessible today, all but
a handful of experts will need the editor to mediate
some of the distance between Cavalli's informal notation
and that of more familiar repertories. This section discusses three main types of information that I have added
editorially: (l) accidentals and basso continuo figures,
(2)set piece labels, and (3) scenery descriptions and stage
directions.
ACCIDENTALS
A N D BASSO CONTINUO FIGURES
Cavalli's score does not use key signatures in the modern
sense; the only symbol that appears in the signature is the
occasional Bb to indicate a change from the so-called cantus durus (natural) system to the cantus mollis system.
Thus, all sharps and almost all flats in the opera are indicated through accidentals. In order to avoid forcing the
music into modern major and minor keys, the edition
has retained the format employed in the source; no editorial key signatures have been supplied. Yet the manuscript omits many accidentals and marks others in abbreviated and inconsistent fashion; moreover, the scribes

occasionally misunderstood whjch symbols were accidental~and which were basso continuo figures. Hence a
major problem in preparing this edition has been to
determine which notes should receive accidentals.
The basso continuo line, to which one might reasonably turn for assistance in this matter, presents difficulties
of its own. Like most opera scores of the period, Cavalli's
manuscript is very sparsely figured. For example, there
are only nineteen figures in the 246 measures of the prologue. The few figures that do appear are often incomplete in terms of modern expectations. Cavalli rarely
modified numbers with a sharp or flat: for example, four
of the nineteen figures in the prologue were simply
marked "6" when "#W is required harmonically (e.g., m.
53). Although a solitary "#" usually refers to a 5, chord,
Cavalli occasionally used it to indicate a 63 chord. Cavalli
usually intended a sharped bass note (e.g., C#)without a
figure to be read as a 63 chord, as specified by Bianciardi in
1607; 129 yet there are several exceptions. To complicate
matters further, the melody line does not necessarily give
a clear indication of what harmonies ought to be operating in the continuo. Not only is most of the opera notated
in just two parts, but the voice tends to meander chromatically over a single bass note, frequently seeming
quite independent of the continuo harmonies. Thus the
process of realizing the basso continuo from Cavalli's
notation is difficult and enormously time-consuming; it
requires considerable familiarity with Cavalli's musical
style and with this opera in particular.
For t h s reason, I have undertaken to provide a more
or less complete set of editorial figures, enclosed in
square brackets (n.b., this edition does not contain a realized continuo part). These added figures were based on
(1) a detailed study of the few figures Cavalli did provide
in this and other scores; (2) a survey of his part-writing in
vocal and instrumental ensembles; (3) a thorough analysis of the notated melody and bass lines in the score of
La Calisto; (4) a study of selected seventeenth-century
treatises, including those of Bianciardi and Agazzari;l30
(5) consultation with various leading continuo experts
(see the acknowledgments);and (6) my own experiences
as a harpsichord continuo player.
One might argue that supplying this information ventures further into the domain of editorial intervention
than is appropriate for a critical edition. I would like to
stress, however, that I do not aim to "fix" these figures in
any way: readers are actively encouraged to experiment
with alternate interpretations. For me, working out a
plausible harmonization of each passage was an essential
step in editing the opera: it guided my decisions not only
about editorial accidentals, but also about pitch errors,
the placement of existing figures and accidentals, and the
reconstruction of missing instrumental parts. By printing
the editorial figures I am simply making this part of the
editing process visible to the public. Furthermore, my
experience working with both professional and nonprofessional productions has shown that, at the very least, a
complete set of figures is essential for efficient and wellorganized rehearsals. The ability to realize a figured bass
at sight is rare enough among musicians today; the abil-

ity to realize an unfigured bass at sight, especially in a

repertory that is almost entirely unavailable in modern
editions, is rarer still. Anyway, as any music director
knows, getting a group of continuo players to play the
same chords without notated figures can be a nightmare.
One might also object that providing editorial figures
will make the harmonies sound more cluttered than
Cavalli might have intended. In reply, let me clarify that
I regard basso continuo figures as descriptive, not prescriptive (with thanks to Arthur Haas for this little
mantra). That is to say, the primary purpose of the figures
is to describe the harmonies operating at particular times,
rather than to dictate which pitches to play. The performer can then use the analytical information represented by the figures as a guide for selecting what notes
to work into a stylistically appropriate realization. For
basic guidelines on doing so, see "Notes on Performance" below.

"SET PIECE" LABELS

As discussed above ("Musical Structure and Style"), recognizing the differences between recitative, aria, and the
many intermediate styles in mid-seventeenth-century
Italian vocal writing can be quite difficult: both Faustini
and Cavalli mingled aria and recitative in quite deliberate fashion. For this reason, I have not imposed a numbering scheme on the score. Yet developing an awareness
of these styles and thus with the overall structure of a
work like La Calisto is essential to performers, scholars,
and students alike. La Calisto contains about fifty solo and
ensemble "set pieces"; of these, Cavalli's score identifies
just eight (all marked as "arias"). From a purely practical
standpoint, therefore, I felt it would be useful to supply
editorial labels to alert the reader/performer which
portions of the score to regard as discrete structures
and which as more fragmentary snatches of "aria style."
Thus, every piece listed in the table of contents is provided with a label in the musical edition; the editorial
labels are enclosed in brackets.
Classifying the ensembles obviously posed little difficulty: the terms "duetto," "trio," and "coro" are selfexplanatory. Classifying the solo numbers, however, was
a more complicated task, since the meaning of the term
"aria" has changed over time. As explained above, I have
reserved "aria" for those numbers whose musical structure observes some sort of repeat scheme and have
applied the more neutral term "arietta" to the throughcomposed pieces. Sections in aria style that lack tonal closure I consider "ariosi"; I have labeled only the most substantial of these in the edition.
To ensure that the layout of the text and translation
section corresponds to the set pieces marked in the musical edition, I have added some editorial indentations.
These supplement the indentations marked in the 1651
libretto. Unfortunately, the printer's system of leftindenting just the first line of these passages was incompatible with his placement of character names. Thus no
set piece that begins a character's speech was indented in
the 1651 libretto. All editorial indentations are identified
in the notes to the "Text and Translation."

SCENERY DESCRIPTIONS A N D STAGE DIRECTIONS

Neither the production score nor the printed libretto has
much in the way of scenery descriptions or stage directions. Although they provide minimal labels for the set
changes (e.g., "The Cave of Eternity"), there is nothing
further to indicate, for example, that the Cave of Eternity
was encircled by a giant serpent that took up the entire
stage. Only one stage direction ("Calisto in orsa") is present in the libretto and score; thus not only are the many
machines and special effects omitted entirely, but the
basic directions needed to coordinate rehearsals-such as
exits and asides-are lacking as well.
Since supplementary information regarding scenery
and stage directions is available in other forms (i.e., from
the account book and from a close reading of Faustini's
poetry), this information has been summarized and
enclosed in brackets in the musical edition and the
English translation. It is treated fully in the "Staging the
Premiere Production" section above, with additional documentation in appendix 2. This information is essential to
a full understanding of not only the drama, but also the
music of La Calisto.

Notes on Performance

Casting
See also "Sources and Premiere Production: The Cast"
and the discussion of individual characters under
"Giovanni Faustini and the Libretto of La Calisto" above.
The array of available voice types in seventeenthcentury Italy was rather different than it is today. This
situation is due not only to changes in surgical practice,
but also to changes in vocal technique over time. In the
seventeenth-century tenors generally had a lower range
than they do today; female contraltos or even mezzo
sopranos were rare. The following summarizes what is
known about the original cast of La Calisto and makes
suggestions for achieving similar effects with twentyfirst-century voices.
GIOVEIN DIANA: Should these six scenes be sung by
the real Diana or by Giove in falsetto? Without them,
Diana only appears in six scenes; Giove appears in only
five. As mentioned earlier, the payment records strongly
suggest that it was Diana who took this role in the original production. Moreover, the plot is cleverly constructed
so that the real and false Dianas never meet: it would be
perfectly simple for one singer to perform both roles,
especially since no costume change would be required.
Furthermore, the music for Giove-in-Diana is written
entirely in the soprano register, in a range identical to that
of Diana (up to g"); it does not drop down from soprano
to baritone when Giove is speaking "as himself" to
Mercurio, as would seem natural if the part were written
for Giove in falsetto (Jacobshad to rewrite these passages
when he cast Giove in this role). Jacobs suggests that
Cavalli did write the role for Diana, but only "because he
could not find a baritone capable of singing falsetto well
enough."131 In fact, however, Don Giulio Cesare Donati
was employed throughout his life as both a baritone and

a soprano (see above, "Sources and Premiere Production:

The Cast"). For seventeenth-century audiences, the
macho language Faustini wrote for Giove-in-Diana may
have counterbalanced the sight and sound of a woman in
this role (see "Giovanni Faustini and the Libretto of La
Calisto: Giove-in-Diana and Calisto" above). But for modern audiences, visual and aural impressions tend to
weigh more strongly than poetry. Casting Diana in this
role today may serve to emphasize the drama's lesbian
undercurrents,. whereas casting Giove in falsetto may
provide a more heterosexual reading, especially if he
drops the musical disguise when speaking to Mercurio.
From a dramatic standpoint, both are plausible interpretations of the role. From a musical standpoint, casting
Giove in this role is much less plausible than casting
Diana: it would require significant reworking of the vocal
line, particularly the duet "E spedito" that s/he sings
with Mercurio.
LINPEAis a young woman (soprano) in Faustini's
drama, not an old woman (male tenor) as Leppard,
Jacobs, and countless others have reinterpreted her.
Although comic vecchia roles (notated in alto or tenor
clef) were indeed common in seventeenth-century opera,
this is not one of them: it is notated throughout in the
soprano clef. Vecchia characters tend to make many references to their old age (this, of course, is the essence of
their comedy); Linfea makes none. What she does mention, however, are the teachings of her own "old nurse 'something that implies she is still quite young and a bit
wet around the ears. Furthermore, vecchie are continually
chasing and being rejected by the objects of their sexual
desires; in La Calisto, the situation is reversed. The role of
Linfea is instead comparable to that of the Damigella in
L'incoronazione di Poppea-a young girl curious to learn
about the delights of love. It was originally cast for a boy,
but was probably ultimately sung by a girl ("putella") in
the 1651 production (see "Sources and Premiere Production: The Cast" above). In either case the visual and
aural impression would have been one of youth, not age.
PANE is notated in the alto clef and was intended for an
alto castrato (range g-a'; the tessitura hovers in the high
end of this span). It is a bit low for most countertenors
today; a high tenor works fairly well. I have notated it in
the transposing G clef to which tenors are accustomed.
Leppard's adaptation of this role for a bass is probably
within the limits of seventeenth-century practice, but it
alters the comic "cry-baby" tone of Pane's endless
laments. It also necessitates significant rewriting of a
large number of ensembles.
LA NATURA
is written in the same clef and range as
Pane and was probably originally sung by the same
singer (alto castrato). The fact that La Natura is a female
character opens up the possibility of performing this role
with a female contralto; I have accordingly notated it
in regular treble clef. If Pane is a countertenor, he may
plausibly sing La Natura as well, but I think a tenor in the
role would confuse a modern audience.
SATIRINO
is ideally performed by a boy soprano, as it
was in the original production, since the point of his
character is that he has not yet reached puberty. A short
1

countertenor or a female soprano (with careful costuming, since satyrs are traditionally bare-chested!) would
also work.
I t DESTINO
is also a boy (La Natura calls him an "eternally youthful boy") and was probably originally sung
by the same singer as Satirino.
MERCURIO
is a low tenor, not a "baritone like
Leporello" (as Jacobs describes him).
ENDIMIONE
was originally an alto castrato, ideally
sung by a countertenor today; a female mezzo soprano is
also possible. When Bonifatio became ill, Cavalli adapted
the role for a soprano (see appendix 1, I.A, for details
about Cavalli's revisions). This role should not be transposed down to a tenor or bass range-such an adaptation
has no basis in seventeenth-century practice. It would also
destroy the sweet sound of Endimione's love scenes with
Diana, which were clearly designed for two high voices.
Eco has only two notes to sing (see below, "The 'Echo
Effect' ").
CHORUSES: There are no choruses in the modern sense.
The "Coro di Menti Celesti" in the final scene was originally sung by the five soloists who were not already on
the stage; four nonsinging extras rounded out the numbers. For performances today, however, it would surely
be appropriate to include a few more singers than the
original production did. The "Coro di Ninfe Arciere" that
appears with Diana has no music, but is essential to the
drama and should not be omitted, especially since the
appearance of Diana with her nymphs is an image often
depicted in paintings of the period. The final number of
act 1 is a soprano-bass duet sung by Satirino and Silvano,
not a male chorus (as Leppard reinterpreted it). There are
only two Furies (probably the same two singers who did
Satirino and Linfea, who do not appear in act 3); their
music is a duet, not a chorus.

The Role of Non-Continuo Instruments

Precisely because it is so small, the role of non-continuo
instruments in seventeenth-century Italian opera scores
has been a huge source of controversy. In the words of
Rene Jacobs, "the average opera audience [today] . . . has
become used to the symphonic 'sauce' which, since
Gluck, has smothered the singing, as Rossini said."l32
Even early-opera fans today have grown accustomed to
the glorious all-star orchestras assembled at the Boston
Early Music Festival and other similar venues. Moreover,
modem directors are perplexed by why "the violinists [in
Venetian operas] played for no more than ten minutes
and had nothing to do for the rest of the time-a good
three hours?"l33
Thus many directors-including Raymond Leppard,
Nikolaus Harnoncourt, and Rene Jacobs-have advocated altering the instrumental music notated in the surviving scores.134 Their solutions involve (1) adding extra
ritornelli and sinfonie, (2) adding instrumental accompaniments to arias and occasionally recitatives, (3) adding
instruments to the orchestra, and (4) adding inner parts
to achieve a thicker texture. They defend their decisions
by arguing that the surviving scores of seventeenthcentury opera do not give us the full picture of how the

music was performed and that instrumentalists of the

period were adept at improvising and could easily have
added unnotated lines in performance.
I am certainly the last person to arguethat seventeenthcentury opera scores are "complete" in the way that we
expect modern full scores to be. Even so, the manuscript
of La Calisto-as one of the few surviving seventeenthcentury production scores-can give us some unique
insights into what actually happened in the pit of the
Teatro S. Aponal and, by extension, in other theaters
in mid-seventeenth-century Venice. The remarkable
account book helps fill out the picture. The question then
becomes how much license modern directors should take
in adapting Cavalli's music for their needs.
As discussed earlier, the surviving score of La Calisfo contains detailed information about the continuo line only;
the upper lines are incomplete. But since the continuo
seems to have played every measure of the opera, including all the instrument-only sections, at the very least this
score can tell us where the instrumental music occurred.
From this simple fact we can ascertain that no additional
ritornelli or sinfonie were performed beyond what
Cavalli notated in the score.
But the needs of modern stagecraft are, of course, different than those of the seventeenth century. Stages today
-built without grooves in the floor-require more time
to make set changes. Cavalli did in fact provide instrumental music for all the set changes used in the original
production (see table 2 above). If more time is needed, the
best solution would be to repeat these items a few times
-something that was no doubt done in Cavalli's day as
well.
There were no intermissions in the seventeenth cen'tury: the curtain stayed up between acts and the balli covered the set changes and provided smooth transitions.
But as intermissions are standard practice today, the
recitative openings to acts 2 and 3 can seem a bit awkward, especially given the time it can take for a curtain to
rise. Thus I would support adding a sinfonia at the beginning of both of these acts, ideally from another opera contemporary with La Calisto. Act sinfonie were usually in
slow duple meter, without the triple section found in
opening sinfonie.
Modern opera directors who are accustomed to the
continuous musical thread of later repertories are often
nervous about silences on stage, especially during
entrances and exits. In Cavalli's score, however, only one
of the entrances and less than half of the exits have a
ritornello or sinfonia; in most of these cases the instrw
mental music serves to cover a set change or a machine,
rather than simply accompany the act of walking. Thus ii
seems that small gaps in the music while character2
moved on or off stage would have been perfectly accept.
able in the mid-seventeenth century; presumablj
applause would have accompanied some of the exits. Tht
indignant commotion caused by the departure of Dianz
and her Coro di Ninfe Arciere in act 1, scene 10, is mosi
effective in silence, without instrumental cover; in anj

case"the four nymphs used in the 1651 production would

h a d y have required the amount of transit time that, say,
a Verdian chorus would. After their exit, there does need
fn be a shocked pause before Calisto begins "Piangete."
Nonetheless, since Cavalli did later add a sinfonia
after 'A baciarsi"-presumably
to get Giove-in-Diana
and Calisto offstage-an occasional instrumental addition for exit purposes would not be inappropriate. But I
--odd caution against overuse of this idea. Ritornelli and
Gdonie were designed to be contiguous to the arias,
ensembles, or ariosi with which they were related musid y . Freestanding sinfonie (those not attached and
d a t e d to a vocal piece) were quite rare in this repertory;
aheir purpose was to accompany descents of gods,
m t a g e battles, set changes, etc. To add numerous unattached instrumental numbers would therefore fundamentally alter the special and specific role of instrumental music in this opera. In particular, adding a repeat of a
ritomello or sinfonia from La Calisto at some distance
from its original location would start to impose a type of
large-scale organizational structure that was alien to this
mpertory.135 Leppard, in fact, went so far as to create an
almost Wagnerian orchestral commentary: for instance,
to accompany the first entrance of Giove-in-Diana, he
composed a sinfonia based on Calisto's "Quanti ne vuoi,"
thus foreshadowing Giove's conquest of Calisto. If a
director absolutely needs a freestanding sinfonia, I would
advise taking one from another similar opera that carries
no associations within La Calisto. It is of course quite
appropriate to insert extra repetitions of ritornelli before
or after the arias to which they are related, as Cavalli himself did in several places.

ADDING
INSTRUMENTAL ACCOMPANIMENTS
According to Jacobs, "the Concerto d'istromenti that
accompanied the opera' . . . was a kind of 'studio' that
continued and completed the process of composition
I begun by the composer."l36 Indeed, in 1607, Agazzari
) described a type of accompaniment that was improvised
I
over a bass line by "instruments of ornamentation . . .
'
that mingle with the voices in various ways."l37 Gloria
Rose called attention to Agazzari's treatise in 1965,
proposing that orchestral improvisation might explain
the incomplete notation of instrumental music in
seventeenth-century operatic sources.138 Harnoncourt,
seconding Rose's position, offered the intriguing explanation that "pleasure was taken in keeping the special
features of an art secret, so it seems understandable that
no complete sets of performance material, not even all
ritornelli, have been preserved written out for all
voices."139
It is certainly true that seventeenth-century string
players were gifted improvisers. Yet, as noted above
("Sources and Premiere Production: The Production
Score"), the incomplete state of the instrumental music in
La Calisto and other operas seems to have more to do with
the exigencies of copying, production, and preservation
than it does with the unwritten traditions of improvisation. Agazzari's views represent the very earliest years of
the basso continuo phenomenon; the methods of accom-

paniment are likely to have been somewhat different

forty-five years later when La Calisto was composed. For
example, Agazzari was adamant that continuo realization was impossible without all players working from a
completely figured bass, especially in vocal music.140
Cavalli's basses were essentially unfigured, however.
Thus in order to improvise harmonically appropriate
accompaniments in La Calisto, the string players would
have needed to see both the basso continuo and vocal
lines (as the harpsichordists and theorbists did), unless
they were playing a piece they could predict in some
way, like a standard ground bass or a well-known tune.
But the documentary evidence from seventeenth-century
operas suggests that what string players had in front of
them were string parts.141 Without question the players
ornamented the lines that were written out for them. But
ornamenting a composed melody is a somewhat different
task than creating a new contrapuntal Line. It is similarly
unlikely that the instrumentalists as a group would have
come to know the score well enough in rehearsal simply
to jam on it: the band members did not receive a fee for
rehearsals, so they probably did not attend very many142
The ground bass duet "Mio foco fatale" is the only number in La Calisto that might plausibly have been improvised upon, but it would need some advance discussion
since the ground goes astray in a couple of spots.
Jacobs, following Rose, cites the example of Cesti's II
porno d'oro to support his decision to add instrumental
accompaniments.143 But I1 porno d'oro was definitely the
exception rather than the rule: written for Emperor
Leopold I and the grandiose resources of the imperial
court, it was by far the largest-scale opera of the seventeenth century. Its main purpose was pomp and splendor,
rather than drama and communication. As mentioned
above, Cavalli reserved continuous orchestral accompaniment for the four most important numbers in La Calisto.
Adding further obbligato accompaniments, whether
newly composed or improvised, would de-emphasize
the sudden richness of Endimione's and Giove's numbers and distance the audience from the intimacy of
the voice-continuo relationship. In the second half of the
seventeenth century, the orchestra began to assume an
ever-increasing role in operatic composition; as a result,
revivals of Cavalli's operas were regularly updated with
"new" arias written by other composers in a more modem style.144 But I have never encountered a seventeenthcentury revival in which orchestral accompaniment was
added to one of Cavalli's old arias.
ADDING INSTRUMENTS TO THE ORCHESTRA
La Calisto's band of six-two violins, violone, and three
harpsichords and/or theorboes (see "Sources and
Premiere Production: The Orchestra" above)-is somewhat smaller than other opera orchestras from this
period, but not by much: most had eight or nine players,
including one or two violas and/or continuo players
beyond what was used in La Calisto. A trumpet or two
might be called in for special military effects (of which
there are none in La Calisto), but the evidence suggests
that no other wind instruments participated in Venetian

xxxix

opera orchestras before the 1690s when oboes and bassoons began to appear.145
For a modern production in a theater larger than
S. Aponal (ca. 400 seats), a somewhat larger group may
be necessary. But I would advise maintaining a roughly
equal balance between continuo and strings and using no
more than two or three strings on a part, otherwise
Cavalli's "trio sonata" texture will start to sound hollow
to modern ears.

3.

ADDING INNER PARTS

In principle, four- or five-part instrumental writing
would not be inappropriate: it is sometimes found in
operas by Cavalli and his contemporaries, although
three-part writing is more common in these years. In
practice, however, the task of composing viola parts for
La Calisto's ritornelli and sinfonie would require many
adjustments in Cavalli's violin lines to spread out the texture. I would prefer to hear the harmonies enriched by
numerous continuo instruments instead.

4.

Continuo Realization
See also "Sources and Premiere Production: The Orchestra," "Accidentals and Basso Continuo Figures" under
"The Musical Edition: Bridging the Notation Gap," and
the end of the "Musical Structure and Style: Recitative"
section above.
This section distills into ten basic guidelines some of
the things I have come to learn about continuo playing in
this repertory. These guidelines clearly represent just the
tip of a very large iceberg; for instance, I will leave it to
others to discuss the division of labor among the various
continuo instruments.'% (N.b. Throughout this edition, I
have provided the indication "violone" on the basso continuo line. I do not mean to suggest that the violone plays
for the whole opera: performers are free to make their
own decisions about which passages the violone should
play.) Nonetheless, I hope that these remarks may be
useful both to beginners and to more experienced
players who may not be intimately acquainted with midseventeenth-century Italian vocal music.
1. FOR DIRECTORS: The continuo players need to be
involved in the rehearsal process as early as possible; accompanists who will not play in the performance should only be used to help singers
learn their notes.
2. FOR PLAYERS (2-10): Learn the vocal parts in
minute detail and especially the text, both its
structure and its meaning; sing the vocal part
while working out your realization. Study the
expressive content of each phrase and identify
particularly salient words (e.g., "dolore," "allegrezza") that can help you choose the most appropriate texture, articulation, dynamics, tone color,
etc.; the words can also help you grasp what the
composer is trying to express through the harmonies. In recitative, think of the basso continuo
line as a musical representation of the grammar of
the text: find the goals of each sentence and find

5.

6.

7.

ways to work toward them so that the phrases do

not sag in the middle. In rehearsal, work on developing an intuitive understanding of what the
singers are likely to do.
Consider the realization as an extension or amplification of the notated bass line: its purpose is to
clarify and enrich the rhythmic/metrical features
of the bass as well as its harmonies. Thus, keep the
right hand (in the keyboard) simple; resist the
temptation to create new melodies or overly elaborate filigree, lest it distract the ear from the rhythmic and harmonic impulses of the bass line and
prevent the words from being completely audible.
Think "less is more."
Use mainly and 63 chords. Be sparing with sevenths or more elaborate constructs, even when the
notes of these sonorities appear in the voice. The
main exceptions are cadences. For vii6-I and
Phrygian cadences (a.k.a. "tenor cadences," where
the bass descends by step or half step), use 7-6
suspensions. For V-I cadences, 4-3 suspensions
are very common, judging from the figures that
Cavalli did provide.
If the melody is moving against a held bass note,
avoid changing harmonies to match the singer's
notes. Instead, let the melody be dissonant against
the accompaniment, particularly in emotionally
charged passages ( e g , in "Piangete," hold the
D-major triad in measures 1-4 against the Bb in the
voice). Continuo players accustomed to the more
active harmonic style of eighteenth-century music
might be tempted to track the voice through its
peregrinations (rather than hanging resolutely
onto a single chord). But doing so might soften
some of the melodic dissonances and "deprive the
singer of the crucial expressive device of singing
outside of the chord."147
Think contrapuntally rather than vertically: follow
the lines you are creating. Resolve leading tones
and dissonances, maintain common tones betweer
chords wherever possible, avoid leaps of a tritonc
or augmented second, opt for contrary rather thar
parallel motion (except in the case of parallel )
chords, which are very common in this repertory)
avoid parallel fifths and octaves as much as pos
sible, etc.
However, there is no need to maintain a fixec
number of voices. Avoid playing too many ful
chords: these clog the texture and slow the rate o
delivery. Instead, select the number of notes fo
each chord based on the kind of metrical or expres
sive effect desired at each point, as well as th
particular contrapuntal lines that need resolutior
(This technique is particularly effective on harpsi
chord, as it gives the player some control c
dynamics.) At all costs avoid creating four-pal
harmonizations in the style of Bach chorales, wit
full chords and complex harmonic activity on eac
eighth note.

8. Avoid changing chords with each bass note if the

bass line is moving rapidly. Instead, sustain (or
strike and release) a single chord against the moving bass.
9. Learn several cadence formulae to use at different
moments in the drama. For instance, linger on suspensions in affective or erotic passages; omit suspensions and plow through the cadences in rapid
dialogue. Please note that almost all cadences, in
both major and minor keys, should conclude with
a major triad. Cadences to minor triads should be
reserved for the following situations: (1) those
where the preceding passage is unusually expressive (e.g., act 2, scene 7, m. 51), and (2) those where
switching between minor and major would interrupt the harmonic continuity, for instance internal
cadences in minor-key arias (e.g., "Lucidissima
face") and rapid recitative passages (e.g., act 2,
scene 12, m. 58). A quirk of Cavalli's writing in
minor keys is a vocal cadence that falls from b3 to
1: in these situations a V-I cadence that concludes
on a major triad produces not only an augmented
triad on the V, but a cross-relation on the I. These
sonorities may at first seem harsh, but one soon
realizes that they are integral components of
Cavalli's "affective" style.
10. Think of the figures as descriptive rather than prescriptive (see "Accidentals and Basso Continuo
Figures" under "The Musical Edition: Bridging the
Notation Gap" above). The numbers are not there
to tell you what to do, but to suggest ways of
thinking about the harmonies. Remember that the
figures tell only a part of the story: the rest is told
by the text, the vocal line, the other instrumental
parts, etc. All of these must be assimilated in order
to develop an expressive and effective realization.
My final thought: do not automatically accept the
editorial figures provided in this edition-learn
them and understand them well enough to decide
for yourself whether to adopt them or to go a different route.

Making Revisions
In the seventeenth century, operas were routinely revised
to suit each new cast and theater. The point of this section
is to suggest to directors ways of making revisions that
are consonant with seventeenth-century traditions and
avoid Leppardian excess. The ideas below derive from
my dissertation and published articles, which have
largely revolved around the issue of operatic revision in
the seventeenth century. I would like to begin by urging
directors to:
1. Get to know the opera as thoroughly as possible in
its original versions (as presented here), putting
aside for the moment any impressions based on
familiarity with other versions. In addition, please
read the whole introduction, especially the sections
on the libretto, the musical style, the original cast
and staging, and the notes on performance. Please

also examine appendix 3, which details the revisions that Leppard made.
2. Once you have made your revisions, please print a
note in the program that describes what you have
done in as specific a manner as possible and gives
your reasons for making the changes.
CUTS
For modern directors, contending with the limited attention span of modern audiences is a serious obstacle to
performing baroque opera. Directors may thus be
pleased to learn that seventeenth-century directors had
many of the same concerns: cuts are the most common
revisions found in seventeenth-century sources.
Before making cuts in an opera, however, it is important to consider two issues: additions and tempo.
Leppard needed to cut so much of La Calisto (between a
third and a half) not because the opera was too long for
his audience to bear, but because he added a great deal of
"new" music and took extremely slow tempi. Jambs, too,
added a lot of extra music, but since he took faster tempi,
he was able to perform the opera with relatively few cub:
the running time of his version is just two hours and
forty-five minutes.
The most obvious targets for cuts in La Calisto are those
items that were crossed out in the original production
score (see the list in appendix 1, gI1.A). The scenes for
Satirino (act 1, scene 14) and Endimione (act 2, scene 3)
are musically unremarkable; neither one is essential to
the drama. The Pane/Endimione torture scenes do tend
to drag on a bit; the cuts marked in act 2, scene 12, and act
3, scene 5, improve the dramatic pacing (one stanza of the
"Miserabile" trio and the "Legato" duet). However, most
directors will want to keep the two choruses in the finale,
which contribute greatly to the overall splendor of the
scene. It is interesting to note that no recitative was cut
in the 1651 production beyond five lines before
"Miserabile."
In seventeenth-century revivals, prologues were often
replaced or eliminated altogether. Thus one alternative to
making many small cuts in La Calisto might be to cut the
entire prologue. The opening sinfonia should be retained,
however, as well as the sinfonia that opens act 1.
When cutting individual set pieces, it is important to
remove whole stanzas, arias, ariosi, ensembles, etc.
Leppard frequently lopped off just a portion of a number,
thereby destroying its musical coherence and tonal closure; the net effect of his piecemeal approach was to
reduce the entire score to a sort of arioso mush. When
cutting second stanzas, bear in mind that strophic form
was one of the main things that defined an aria in the
early and mid-seventeenth century, although later
seventeenth-century sources often omitted second
stanzas.
When cutting recitative, base your decisions primarily
on the libretto. Again, cut complete syntactic units (whole
phrases, sentences); these for the most part will correspond to whole musical phrases punctuated by cadences.
Obviously, check carefully to make sure you are not

cutting anything that is essential to the drama, or that

leaves loose ends hanging. In particular, make sure that
the abridged text makes grammatical sense in Italian (do
not assume that the audience will not understand the
words anyway). After you have decided on your libretto
cuts, check the musical coherence of the resulting score;
some minor adjustments to the recitative (transposing a
few measures, rerouting the final cadence to another key)
may be necessary to join up the sections smoothly. Be
careful to maintain harmonic continuity between sections. In writing dialogue, Cavalli usually began a speech
with the same basso continuo pitch that had concluded
the previous character's speech; he reserved a change of
pitch at these points for an interruption in the focus of
conversation. Similarly, Cavalli usually preceded an aria
with a recitative that concluded in the same key (usually
with a full cadence, but sometimes with a half cadence).
It is also appropriate to cut repeats of ritornelli to suit
the staging. But each aria should have at least one ritornello, since these items are vital to the concept of an aria
in this period. Cavalli's ritornelli are short and musically evocative; they provide a delightful variety for the
listener.
ADDITIONS
As noted above ("Musical Structure and Style: Arias and
Other Solo Numbers"), it was common in the later seventeenth century to adapt an old opera for a new cast and
audience by adding or substituting a large number of
"new" arias.'* Many of these were borrowed from other
operas, others were newly written by local composers.
Thus Leppard's decision to insert two arias from other
Cavalli works into La Calisto was entirely in keeping with
seventeenth-century revision practice. Similarly, his decision to compose a new scene for Diana and Pane (in place
of act 1, scene 14) was historically plausible; unfortunately the musical and poetic style of this new scene is
much less plausible.
To ensure a certain level of stylistic continuity, I would
advise a modern director to borrow an aria or ensemble
from another opera roughly contemporary with La
Calisto. Take care that the content of the poetry is consistent with the rest of the drama, or changes its focus in
a credible manner; some minor adjustments to the
poetry may be needed. Also, be sure to maintain harmonic continuity between the insertion and its surrounding material.
See above ("Notes on Performance: The Role of NonContinuo Instruments") for a discussion of adding
instrumental music.
Transposition was an entirely normal aspect of
seventeenth-century operatic practice, as the surviving
manuscript scores can attest (see appendix 1,I, for a list
of all the transpositions Cavalli marked in La Calisto).l49
It is therefore historically appropriate for a modern
production to transpose the music to suit the available
singers, especially given how different modern vocal
resources are from those of the seventeenth century. Bear
xlii

in mind, however, that castrato lead roles were rarely

recast for tenors and basses: a production today where
Endimione is sung by a tenor or bass will not sound
much like a seventeenth-century opera.
To achieve a modern performance that follows
seventeenth-century transposition practice, I suggest the
following:
1. Arias and solo recitative:
a. Transpose whole numbers (Leppard often transposed just a section of an aria, so that it ended in
a different key from the one in which it began).
Solo recitative passages should also be transposed in their entirety.
b. Transpose to plausible seventeenth-century
keys, especially if using an unequal temperament. These include C, D, E, F, G, A, Bb; c, d, e, g,
a, b. The keys Cavalli used for arias and ensembles in La Calisto are: C, D, G, A; c, d, e, g, a, b.
Contemporary sources usually transpose by a
whole step, fourth, fifth, or octave; rarely by a
third.
c. If transposing a role to the bass register, bear
in mind that a typical bass or baritone role in
this repertory is largely an elaboration of the
basso continuo line interspersed with occasional
"melodic" passages, rather than an independent
melodic line (this rule applies to arias, ensembles, and recitative). Adjust the vocal line
accordingly.
d. Once you have determined the interval of transposition best suited to the singer, adjust the
upper instrumental parts to preserve the comfortable range of the instruments (Cavalli's violin parts rarely go above a" or below c'). A solution found in sources of the time (e.g., Cesti's
L'Orontea) is to shift one instrumental part up or
down an octave for a few measures, temporarily
inverting the counterpoint between the two
voices.
e. If transposing the vocal line down, adjust the
basso continuo line by an octave in certain passages to prevent the vocal line from crossing
below it.
2. Recitative dialogue:
a. Instead of transposing, keep the basso continuc
line as it is and adjust a few notes in the vocal
line to eliminate those outside the singer's range
This solution preserves the harmonic continuig
of the recitative.
b. For particularly melodious recitative, howeve~
(e.g., much of Endimione's and Calisto's roles)
keep the melody line as it is and transpose indi
vidual segments of recitative (see appendix 1,
3. Ensembles:
a. Avoid transposing by large intervals, as adjusl
ments made for one singer may wreak havoc fa
the other singerW.
b. If necessary, rewrite some of the vocal line h
avoid problematic notes, or reassign passages C
a different role.

Seventeenth-century operatic sources reveal very few

instances where an individual aria or ensemble was
reworked or elaborated upon. In general, if an item was
deemed unsatisfactory, it was removed altogether and
replaced by a different piece. Thus, Leppard's many
rewritten numbers (e.g., "Calisto alle stelle," an aria that
he recomposed as a trio; "D'aver un consorte" and "Pazzi
quei," two arias that he superimposed to make a duet)
have little basis in seventeenth-century revision practice.
Recitative, however, was often rewritten, largely to suit
the ranges of different singers (see above).

Cadences
Numerous scholars and performers have suggested that
Cavalli's long-note cadences be substantially shortened
in performance. For instance, Jane Glover has written,
It is important to observe that the actual note values at
cadences probably have very little significance. Closes
should be sung as naturally as the rest of the recitative, and
only ornamented where the text or situation permits. This is
not clear from the appearance of the scores. Frequently
Cavalli writes long notes at cadences, suggesting a need for
ornamentation; but at many of them, any hiatus caused by
such treatment would be dramatically undesirable.. . . The
familiar notation patterns that he so hastily and automatically adopted should therefore be treated with caution in
performance, for their execution rarely bears relation to the
actual value of the written notes.150

,/
,
,
I

I agree that one should not necessarily be strict about performing recitative cadences. But, as discussed above (see
"Musical Structure and Style: Recitative"), Cavalli very
clearly differentiated between long-note cadences and
short-note cadences, as well as between cadences that
occur on the beat and those that are displaced metrically.
For him, such distinctions had important expressive
implications; they were not simply a notational conceit.
Thus, I think an effort should be made to respect those
differences in performance. Bear in mind that the fermatas that adorn many of the long-note cadences are not

instructions to lengthen the note values (see "Editorial

Policies" in the critical report).
Various people have also suggested that the transition
between two sections (e.g., between the end of an aria
and the beginning of its ritornello) be elided so as to
avoid interrupting the pacing of the drama.151 In my
view this practice may be justified in some instances, but
it is important to remember that the final chord of a piece
in minor should almost always be major, so dovetailing it
with the start of a ritornello in minor may create some
problems.

The "Echo Effect"

While waiting for Giove-in-Diana by the spring (act 3,
scene 1, mm. 19-38), Calisto amuses herself by conversing with Eco (Echo), the nymph who was doomed to
repeat the last words someone else had spoken. Neither
the score nor the libretto allots any specific words or
pitches for Eco, nor is this character mentioned in the
scene heading or the libretto's list of characters. Nonetheless Cavalli clearly created echo effects at three points
in the score. In measures 20-21, he repeated the word
"Eco," surely intending these two notes to be sung by an
offstage soprano acting the part of Eco. In measures 2324, he placed the echo in the continuo: the bass line
repeats the pitches that Calisto had just sung to the word
"unito." The echo effect here is most audible if the continuo plays these notes tasto solo. Finally, he introduced
the echo in the orchestra: the sinfonia in measures 33-38
imitates Calisto's melisma in measures 27-32. Although
the upper parts to this sinfonia are missing, Cavalli's
intention is evident from the bass line; these lines have
been reconstructed to achieve the effect of cascading
echoes.
Raymond Leppard built a full-fledged duet for Calisto
and Eco, with the following note: "the Echo implied in
Calisto's aria [sic]'Eco risponde unito' has been added."l52
As noted above, however, the "implied" echo effect was
already realized in full in Cavalli's score; no additional
elaboration is needed.

Notes
:
,

1. For further information about Cavalli's life and works,

see The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed.
(hereafter NG2), S.V. "Cavalli, . . . Francesco" (5:302-13), by
Thomas Walker/Irene Alm; Dizionario biografico degli italiani
(Rome: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1973), S.V. "Caletti,
Pietro Francesco, detto Cavalli" (16:686-96), by Lorenzo
Bianconi; Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 2nd ed.,
Personenteil, S.V. "Cavalli, . . . Francesco" (4:471-84), by Hendrik
Schulze; Jane Glover, Cavalli (New York: St. Martin's Press,
1978); and The Viking Opera Guide, ed. Amanda Holden,
Nicholas Kenyon, and Stephen Walsh (London: Penguin Books,

xliii

Ltd., 1993; reprinted as The New Penguin Opera Guide, 2002), S.V.
"Cavalli, Francesco" (189-94), by Jennifer Williams Brown.
2. Ellen Rosand, Opera in Seventeenth-Century Venice: The
Creation of a Genre (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1991),4.
3. See Giovanni Faustini's dedication to L'Oristeo, quoted in
Rosand, Opera in Venice, 169. On the careers of librettists, see
Paolo Fabbri, I1 sec010 cantante: Per una storia del libretto d'opera
nel Seicento (Bologna: I1 Mulino, 1990), chap. 2; and Beth L.
Glixon and Jonathan E. Glixon, lnventing the Business of Opera:
The lrnpresario and His World in Seventeenth-Century Venice