This long-forgotten manuscript, housed in the library of the Abbazia di Montecassino near Naples, offers a rare glimpse into the vibrant musical scene of late seventeenth-century Naples. It contains 28 sinfonie and numerous antiphons for two low string instruments by Rocco Greco, alongside 10 passacaglias by Gaetano Francone. Both composers played a leading role in shaping Neapolitan music during this period, and their works in this collection highlight the richness and innovation of the era’s musical traditions.
Rocco Greco was born in 1657 into a musical family. His father, Francesco Greco, was a respected wind instrument teacher (‘maestro di cornetta’) at two of the most prominent Neapolitan conservatories: the Conservatorio della Pietà dei Turchini and the Poveri di Gesù Cristo. These institutions would soon nurture other prominent composers, such as Leonardo Leo and Francesco Durante.
Music ran in the veins of the Greco family, and Rocco, along with his younger brother Gaetano, carried on this distinguished legacy. Both brothers studied at the Conservatorio dei Poveri di Gesù Cristo. While Gaetano Greco would gain fame as a prolific composer and revered teacher of counterpoint—counting among his students luminaries like Giuseppe Porsile, Nicola Porpora, and Giovanni Battista Pergolesi—Rocco established his own path as a maestro of string instruments. His exceptional talent earned him a place as one of the governors of the Congregazione e Monte dei Musici at the church of San Giorgio Maggiore, the most powerful musicians' guild in Naples. Soon he was hailed as ‘the best [player] nowadays in Naples, acclaimed as such by all the music virtuosi’ (‘il migliore ché sia hoggi in Napoli, acclamato per tale da tutti li virtuosi di musica’).1 After Rocco’s tenure, his esteemed position was passed on to Francesco Alborea, also known as Franceschiello, who would become recognized as a distinguished ‘violoncello’ player.
Gaetano Francone gained fame as a virtuoso violinist in the late 1600s. Though little is known about Francone's life, we can be certain that his contributions to Neapolitan music were significant. He served as a string teacher at the Conservatorio di Sant’Onofrio, where he counted none other than Francesco Durante among his students. Like Rocco Greco, Francone was elected as a governor of the Congregazione e Monte dei Musici. However, his career took an unexpected turn when he was expelled from the guild for violating its strict rules. A diarist of the time noted that Francone had performed at the Teatro dei Fiorentini — an act that was forbidden for members of the Congregazione, who were prohibited from playing in public theaters.2
Despite this setback, Francone continued his musical journey. In June of an unspecified year, he joined the chapel of the Tesoro di San Gennaro as the first violinist in the ‘second choir of the instruments’ (‘Secondo Coro degli strumenti’). His extraordinary skills and artistic prowess earned him the title of ‘virtuoso, renowned for his thorough talents’ (‘virtuoso conosciuto d’ogni abilità’).3 He served in the chapel until 1717, leaving behind a legacy of musical excellence.
An exploration of the striking manuscript MS-2 D-13 reveals that cellists would be expected to realize written figures above a given bass line, just as keyboardists would do when playing basso continuo. Indeed, this source holds implications for what partimento practice may have looked like for low string players.4
Case Study I.1:
Let us turn to the prelude of Rocco Greco's Sinfonia Quinta, the first movement in the manuscript to only present the part of the second "viola" (a term used for any low string instrument, including the violoncello) instead of containing two fully written voices. Here, the upper line is created by the intervals that the numbers (and accidentals) outline. As the scribe puts it, "prima viola sona li numeri." In other words, a 3 would ask the musician to play a third above the given bass note, and the occasional sharp 3 would signify that the required third is major. The "sola" in the last system is the only moment in the movement in which the second "viola" is being instructed to play alone. Most probably, Rocco Greco invites the first "viola" to reenter on the long mi (or the "la," if we would like to use hexachordal solmization), suggesting that the final bassizans cadence can join forces with a melismatic upper line to bring the movement to a close.
When we create the upper line, we can regard the written bass as a storage of contrapuntal kynetic energy, waiting to be released. The simple opening measure is asking to be filled in with an active top line and, as we study measure 2, we realise that the idea for the beginning is already looking up at us. Greco has opened the door for imitation between the voices, with the second measure being a reinforced restatement of the first.
For the ensuing Sinfonia Sesta, I have decided to push the boundaries of chordal realization and demonstrate that it is possible to perform both voices in dialogue on one instrument, just as a keyboard or plucked instrument player would do. Although the manuscript indicates a prima and seconda "viola," as in Sinfonia Quinta, I have given both of these roles to a single player.
What was the inspiration behind my experiment?
Numerous examples of chordal techniques (i.e. the use of double stops and full chords) are present in the early cello repertoire. Consider the works of Giuseppe Colombi, for instance, in his Chiacona a Basso Solo (Manuscript Mus.E.350, Modena, Biblioteca Estense Universitaria, I-MOe). Furthermore, the mastery of counterpoint and chordal writing is evident in Francesco Supriani’s Principij da imparare à suonare il violoncello e con 12 Toccate à solo (ca. 1720), housed in the manuscript collection at the Biblioteca del Conservatorio San Pietro a Majella in Naples. I had the opportunity to view the original manuscript during one of my research trips to Naples. We will return to this collection in the next chapter.
These chordal practices culminate in J.S. Bach’s Cello Suites, where the use of chords reaches its fullest expression. The masterpieces for solo cello inspired me to delve deeper into a craft that was so familiar to cello virtuosi in the Baroque era. My attempt to create a harmonically rich prelude on Rocco Greco's bass line proved to be one of the most stimulating challenges that I encountered during my early music training at the Royal Conservatoire.