Benedetto Marcello
and his older brother Alessandro (born
1669) were important presences in the
musical life of Venice in the first
half of the seventeenth century. Neither
was a full-time composer; they were,
in a wholly non-deprecatory sense, dilettanti
– to be counted amongst those "Personages
whose [musical] talents are celebrated
whether they are regarded as professors
or Diletanti" as Burney put it
in his General History of
Music. The family of the Marcello
had a place amongst the Venetian nobility.
Both brothers held prominent state positions.
Benedetto worked as a lawyer and a magistrate.
In 1707 he was chosen (by lot) to serve
on the Grand Council of the Republic;
from 1730 to 1737 he was Governor of
Pola (Pula in modern Croatia) and in
1738 he was made Chamberlain of Brescia.
In his youth he had, like any good gentleman,
received a musical training. But in
his case such matters went well beyond
mere polite accomplishment; he seems
to have studied with both Franceso Gasparini
and Antonio Lotti. He became a member
of both the Accademia Filarmonica in
Bologna and the Accademia dell’Arcadia
in Rome. He wrote a good deal of music,
both vocal and instrumental, both secular
and sacred – as demonstrated in the
standard reference work, Eleanor Selfridge-Field’s
admirable The Works of Benedetto
and Alessandro Marcello: A Thematic
Catalogue (O.U.P., 1990). He was
also an accomplished man of letters,
writing more than one operatic libretto
and the marvellous Il Teatro alla
Moda, a satire on Venetian opera
and operatic culture, first published
around 1720. This is full of witty observation
– and some serious, if ironic, comments.
Readers who have access to back issues
of The Musical Quarterly are
strongly urged to look out the volume
for 1948, which contains a full translation
by Reinhard Pauly. I cannot resist one
quotation, from Marcello’s ‘advice’
to the opera composer: "He must
not allow himself to read the entire
libretto, as that might confuse him.
Rather he should compose it verse by
verse and insist immediately that all
arias be written over [by the librettist].
This is the only way in which he will
be able to utilize all the melodies
that had come into his head during the
summer. But if the words to these arias
should again fail to fit the notes properly
– and that happens most commonly – he
will continue to harass the librettist
until the latter satisfies himself completely".
In short, Marcello
was a cultured, intelligent man, not
short of patrician self-confidence.
These qualities are evident in his six
Cello Sonatas, rewardingly played on
this first reissue on CD of a performance
which originally appeared on LP (Decca
DSLO 546). The Cello Sonatas were probably
written and first published in the 1710s,
though no early Venetian edition seems
yet to have been discovered. John Walsh
published an edition in London in 1732;
another appeared in Paris in 1735.
All six of the sonatas
are in the conventional sonata da
chiesa form – four movements, slow-quick-slow-quick.
Many of the slow movements have beautiful
arioso melodies, often characterised
by a quiet, dignified melancholy; in
the quicker movements the liveliness
of manner is never so extreme as to
threaten the prevailing aristocratic
seemliness of demeanour. This is elegant,
cool music, which yet finds room for
moments of almost-passionate expressiveness.
Anthony Pleeth seems to me to capture
these qualities very well indeed. He
plays a David Rubio copy of a 1732 Stradivarius
and the instrument is perfectly suited
to this music. Throughout, Pleeth’s
beautifully judged playing is well supported
by the intelligent and astute continuo
work of Hogwood and Webb. Of course
there are aspects of baroque performance
practise about which there might be
questions raised – ideas on such matters
never cease to be contentious. But given
the perceptive sympathy which governs
the playing of Pleeth and his colleagues,
such questions are very much of secondary
importance; this may not – in detail
– be the only way of playing these sonatas;
but it is certainly a very good way,
aesthetically coherent and musically
satisfying.
The recorded sound
is perfectly listenable, without having
quite the vivacity and colour we might
now demand on a new recording; there
are track divisions only for each sonata,
not for each movement; the booklet notes
are brief; the playing time is decidedly
brief. But for all that, this is a CD
that anyone with a love of the Venetian
baroque will surely want, both for its
own merits and because there don’t appear
to be any rival recordings of all six
of these fine sonatas.
Glyn Pursglove
The
Explore Catalogue
for
details
Anthony Pleeth (cello) 
