On the other hand, Cavalli (1600), apart from the fortuitous influence his sojourn at the court of Louis XIV had upon Lulli, inherited a more decided talent for orchestration from Monteverde, whose pupil he was. His interesting experiments in writing accompaniments for two violins and a bass established a precedent that survived the test of many years. Like Monteverde, his instincts were strongly dramatic, but perhaps his connection with St. Mark's Church modified his style of writing for the orchestra. For more especially his a capella sacred works are imbued with considerable warmth of expression, and show sentient regard for melody, rhythm, and form. And thus, even as Carissimi displayed but little feeling for purely instrumental effects, though holding a unique position as a composer of oratorio, so Cavalli must be regarded as primarily a dramatic writer,—indeed, among the immediate successors of Monteverde, he alone succeeded in substantially furthering dramatic development in Italy, that is to say, the development of dramatic ideals as had been attempted by the Florentine neophytes of Greek tragedy. For as Langhans expresses it: "After him Italian opera gradually diverges from the path originally taken, and sacrifices the antique simplicity aimed at by its founders to the ever increasing demand for sensuous charm. The alliance of poetry and music, dissolved in the Middle Ages and renewed but a few decades before, is again broken off, and the equilibrium that had just been acquired is sacrificed anew to the claims of music."
III.
But while the nature of Italian music after Cavalli's time was subject to variable influences, France took up the cause of drama with enthusiasm, and in this field Lulli (1633-1687) looms up as the sole dictator of his age. Favored by the extravagant demands for display and spectacular effects prevalent at the court of Louis XIV, Lulli proceeded to develop dance forms as had been inaugurated by his predecessor, Cambert, whose position he usurped. The ballet de cour, already in vogue in France, consisted of dances, dialogues set to music, combined with dramatic episodes. Out of this native form of entertainment, modern French opera was destined to germinate. Having found this a suitable prototype as a basis for his operas, Lulli proceeded to imbue it with exotic principles. Like Monteverde, he discarded the ecclesiastical modes. Again, he adhered strictly to the requirements of his text, and developed declamatory recitative as promulgated by Cavalli. And to the reactive influence of the Italian monodic theorem upon French literature during this brilliant period of Corneille, Molière, Racine, does France owe the excellence of her declamation.
But, considering the versatility of the man, once again a disappointing analogy to the peculiarly prominent deficiency of Carissimi and Cavalli confronts us. For Lulli's orchestration was, like that of Meyerbeer two hundred years later, sensational rather than of enduring worth. By no means is Lulli's universal genius as organizer, composer and orchestrator to be undervalued, nor is the importance of his influence upon subsequent French music to be lost sight of. But it is evident that the direct evolution of really stable instrumentation was benefited, during this period, more by the crowning achievements of Scarlatti, and by the labors of the secondary Italian composers, who devoted themselves more especially to purely instrumental music, and thereby sowed the seed for subsequent purely orchestral music in Germany. It is true that credit is due to Lulli for having introduced into his orchestra a large variety of instruments, which he used with considerable skill, although all of them were not suitable for permanent retention; but it would appear to the present writer that Lavoix, in his "Histoire de L'Instrumentation," page 216, is, perhaps, somewhat extravagant in his eulogy of Lulli's orchestration, especially since he previously makes but passing reference to that of Scarlatti. Again, similar use of solo effects and of contrasted groups of instruments as cited by Lavoix is also to be found in the scores of Lulli's predecessors and contemporaries in Italy. Indeed one might say that in general the efforts of these early composers to obtain genuinely characteristic tone-color are apt to be overestimated, for, as Lavoix himself subsequently acknowledges in regard to Lulli:—"Il faut l'avouer, c'était encore au violon qu'il avait confié ses scènes symphoniques les plus délicates et les plus expressives." Finally, even though strings formed the basis of his orchestra, augmented by wind instruments both wood and brass, the irrepressible harpsichord, solicitous for the welfare of her flock, and fearful lest emancipation from her protectorate should result in chaos, still closely followed the harmonic delineations of the legitimate orchestral instruments, supporting them, as it were, in concentual leading-strings! Had Lulli and his contemporaries understood the art of judiciously distributing the notes of a chord throughout the orchestra, not to mention the proper choice in number and species of instrument, this custom would have soon fallen into disuse; and, as we know, not until this did take place one hundred years later, was it possible to obtain ideal solidity, balance of tone, contrast, and variety. By a coincidence, the year of Beethoven's birth sounded the death-knell of the orchestral harpsichord, for in the opera "Mitridate," written in that year, Mozart was the last of the great composers to employ it as a regular component of the orchestra.
To Lulli, therefore, orchestration was but a secondary issue, in spite of the importance he attached to it. Form, on the other hand, was permanently benefited by his labors, whereas, in musical history, he occupies the second of the four pedestals sustaining the arch that spans the realm of pure music drama, and retires into the mythical haze of Hellenic tragedy.
IV.
As intimated above, further survey of the field of instrumentation in Italy discovers commendable activity, such as was displayed by Legrenzi; by Steffani and Clari; by the violinists Torelli, Vivaldi, and especially Corelli; finally, by the greatest musician both active and creative of the seventeenth century, Scarlatti.
The labors of Legrenzi (1625) are worthy of consideration on account of his logical development of the constituency of the orchestra. As Maestro at San Marco, Venice, he increased the number of instrumentalists at that church to over thirty. It is noteworthy that he employed almost exclusively violins and viols, supported in the bass by four theorbos (i.e. bass instruments of the lute family). The wood-wind was represented by a solitary bassoon, whereas two cornets and three trombones replaced Monteverde's earlier assortment of brass. And thus, already in the seventeenth century was found a man whose perspicuity in the choice of a modest band of loud-voiced instruments commended itself for some of the mightiest climaxes of Beethoven's immortal works.
The significance of chamber music as fostered by Steffani (1655) and Clari (1669) is, of course, well known in musical history. And the wonderful impetus given to the art of violin-making, by stimulating a development of executive technique, brought forth fruit that culminated in the regency of a number of famous violinist-composers. Among these, Torelli (died 1708), for the creation of the concerto grosso, Vivaldi (died 1743), for the development of harmonic design and figuration characteristic of his instrument, and Corelli (1653-1713), for combining principles of harmony with contrapuntal devices, rendered invaluable service to the nascent architecture of modern string writing. For by exploring the possibilities of the violin, by establishing its superiority as a solo instrument, by demonstrating not only its potentiality but also its limitations in relation to other instruments, there arose, in consequence, a more delicate perception as to the necessary constitution of an evenly balanced string band. This acquirement was accompanied by improved methods of writing for the strings.
No composer of his time combined these requirements more successfully than Corelli, for the types of composition which occupied his attention were the precursors of the classic sonata, and his contributions thereto mark the starting point of genuinely artistic instrumental music. Corelli's relation to chamber music and the concerto is as that of Monteverde to the orchestra. Neither of them was a radical reformer; they both proceeded along the more conservative lines of evolution, selection, elaboration. The scaffolding of their respective spheres of activity had already been reared by that countless throng of forgotten and unappreciated workers, whose mission it is to make smooth the path for the greater lights, that appropriate and mould into collectaneous form the puny though individual originality of the lesser. But whereas nothing more than a pious interest in an historic heirloom has preserved Monteverde's efforts from falling into oblivion, those of Corelli have been perpetuated by reason of their intrinsic merit.