Interior of Gran Teatro La Fenice in Venice (1837)

Prologue


Having concluded this overview of the flute in Italy in the 19th century, the question of the Italian school remains unanswered. Was there a particular, homogeneous and widespread style in the peninsula that was sufficiently characterised to distinguish itself from the French and German schools? [...] No study has been yet conducted to define the characteristics of Italian performance (sound aesthetic, embouchure technique and main elements of performance practice). [...] While studies on the manufacturing of Italian instruments have already been undertaken, it would be interesting to use such instruments for their repertoire, tracing and comparing the technical and aesthetic opinions of the contemporary players and their audience.1


Reading this passage in Lazzari’s Il flauto traverso opened my eyes to an interesting gap in the current Early Music scene. Indeed, hardly anyone had systematically dealt with a specific historically informed performance practice for Italian flute music between the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries. For this reason, I initially decided to dedicate my Master's research to the topic The Italian flute: 1780-1830, focussing on Italian music between Lorenzoni’s (1779) and Rabboni’s (1830) flute methods, which I had already analysed in two previous theses.2


However, I soon understood why such a gap existed. Creating the research draft made me aware of all the difficulties that such a work would have entailed, especially considering the short time in which I would have had to conduct it. It became clear to me that the file rouge of Italian flute history was a series of complex and international connections between players, instrument makers, and composers from different European countries. Exemplary in this sense is Giuseppe Rabboni, an Italian flautist who played an Austrian-inspired instrument and translated a French method.3 Moreover, very little Italian flute repertoire from this time exists and, when it does, it generally did not seem historically relevant for my research ends, nor aesthetically charming.

 

However, one composer struck me both for his historical relevance and the charm of his music: Saverio Mercadante (1795-1870), nowadays a rather forgotten Neapolitan opera composer, whose E-minor flute concerto is still extremely popular among modern flute players.4 During his student years, Mercadante wrote an enormous corpus of flute works for his fellow students and for local amateurs—a fact that probably makes him one of the most prolific Italian composers of his time for the flute.

 

The goal of my artistic research became, therefore, to answer the following question: how can we play Saverio Mercadante’s flute works according to a historically informed performance practice?

 

To reach this goal, I focused on the available primary sources aiming to get into the mind of Neapolitan flute players of his time, “tracing and comparing the technical and aesthetic opinions of contemporary players and their audience”, as Lazzari wished. Moreover, a literature review of several secondary sources concerning Italian and Neapolitan flute history of the time supported my research.

 

Consequently, focusing on Mercadante’s flute works seemed to be the most promising way to develop the wider topic I was interested in. However, dramatically and yet funnily, just a few weeks before the final submission deadline, I hit a wall. The unexpected information I suddenly acquired – a true operatic plot twist – forced me at once to discard the process I was using to practically apply my knowledge to the music. Moreover, it forced me to completely rethink my methodology and even what the concept of “historically informed” means to me.

 

My thesis became a dramma buffo.

 

The first two acts present the connections between institutions, instruments, methods, and players in Italy (Act 1), and more specifically in Naples (Act 2).


The following intermezzo, entitled I wish I knew less, explains my original research intentions concerning the reconstruction of the performance practice of Mercadante’s flute works and how those suddenly collapsed. It then puts forward some reflections on research into historically informed performance (HIP) and a possible solution to the problem I encountered.

 

Act 3 and 4 focus on Saverio Mercadante. They delineate, respectively, his life and his flute works.

 

Just before the curtain falls, Act 5 offers my personal way of playing such works in a historically informed way.


[To Act 1]