I turned around, and saw my dear brother, Domenico running towards me.
I turned around, and saw my dear brother, Domenico running towards me.
`I've finally found you.'
`What's the matter?'
`Father wishes to see you.'
`Father?' I recalled. Yes, I was still living in Venice, but since I turned thirty* I haven't even thought of visiting him, not until that time when I was called at a gala** two years later, and that was all. I didn't invite him to my wedding, well I was pretty sure he wouldn't want to see me marry a soprano anyway, he would rather that I married a duchess or, at least a lady who came from another rich family. After I got married we got in a cold war, and never wished to see each other on the streets of Venice.
`I...umm...' I hesitated.
`Please, come to visit him, it may be your last chance-'
`He's moving back to Bergamo?' I broke in, coldly.
`What do you mean? He's really sick, he wishes for his eldest son to be at his side, even for one second before he might-' Domenico stopped in the middle.
I stood on the streets, just a moment ago I nearly got into a fight with signor Gasparini, and now here's more bad news. I wanted to leave Domenico, so I could get my mind cleared from all that nonsense. I was certain that I didn't want to see my father, the man who didn't agree with my marriage with Margherita, that we had to get married in Florence; the man who would bombard me with social hierarchy stuff, and how my younger brothers are all doing better than me; the man-
`Will you go or not?' Domenico held on to my arm.
`No.' I stated firmly.
`Fine, I knew this miscommunication would never resolve, I should have persuaded father before I came here to find you.' He later walked away from me.
Miscommunication? That word does spring up my curiosity. What kind of misunderstanding could have occured between me and him? If Domenico were correct, then today will be my chance to figure all of this out.
`Wait, I'll go with you.' I sped up, and quickly caught up with Domenico.
`Father! Father, Tomaso is here!' After entering this familiar place where I grew up, Domenico sprang upstairs and pushed open the doors of the master bedroom.
I quickly followed his steps, and then realised how unusual this place seemed now. Its structure was still the same, as what it was before I left, but now the atmosphere seemed strange. It was dark everywhere, the windows were all closed, there were even tiny cobwebs between the banisters and the staircase, which really upsets me. The servants were nowhere to be found as well, maybe that explains why this place is so messed up.
I entered the bedroom, to witness a scene that shocked me so much that I stayed at the doorway with my mouth wide open-in the shape of an `O'. My father, he has changed so much since the last time I saw him in the summer of 1704. Where did that energetic middle-aged man disappear to? Now all I see is an old man, possibly with only bones undeneath his skin, his eyes looked dull, as if he were struggling to even see how many people were in the room, last but not least, I was certain that he was succumbing from illness.
Domenico left us alone, and closed the door behind me. I wasn't chill at that time, since this `new look' of my father has really given me goosebumps, and also there was only one hint of light, cascading over his pale face, almost like he were rising to heaven. I hesitantly moved towards his bed, and knelt down beside him.
`My dear son, I am definitely fortunate enough to see you again.'
`Yes father.' I looked down at the floor, avoiding to make any eye-contact with the poor old man.
`My will, my dear son-'
`You have specified that I shall not inherit any of the family's property, nor its business in 1705, father.' I said coldly.
`And are you not satisfied-ehem!' He started to cough...
`Father are you alright?' I was concerned now for his health, but I realised that it was too late. Father later told me that he has been bedridden for the past two years, and even though nearly all of his income has been spent on medicine and getting doctors, he wasn't doing any better, and eventually, his sickness became worse and worse, that he could only have porridge for his meal everyday. That must have been the reason why he has turned so skinny, and why there were no rouges on his cheeks, just entirely pale.
`Now, listen. If I wanted to be mean and stubborn and mind your business, I could have changed my will, stating that you shall be my successor, and that you shall never touch your manuscript paper ever again.'
`You are the only one who has studied as an apprentice in the shops out of the entire family, and the only maestro out of your youngner brothers. Wouldn't it have benefitted me and the business if I made you my heir? There will be no risks of turning bankrupt, or having bad credit control, or...' Although his tone was strict, he was stroking my back and smiling, like what he always did when I was still a child.
I looked upwards at the ceiling, still avoiding eye-contact with him, but this time it was because I was afraid I would burst into tears when I meet his sight. I have already sunken into a state of regret after knowing about his physical state, and now I've grown remorseful, as I have wronged my father, my dearest father!
`Come on, don't hide your feelings from your old father, even if I am half-blind I can still sense that you're in grief at the moment.'
`I'm not, father.' I sniffed. I quickly got up from the ground and turned back, secretly taking out my handkerchief to wipe my tears after walking towards the door.
`You're going to leave now, my dear son?' He spoke with disappointment. I shook my head, so I didn't have to hear myself choking with tears.
`I am indeed a blessed man. I have one last thing to tell you before you leave, well it depends which one of us leaves first, ha.' He joked at the end, which made me even more emotional.
`Come here, and sit by my bed, dear.'
I dried my tears quickly, and turned back, forcing out a smile,
`Now, I must tell you, that I've never even thought of intervening with your career, it's your career after all, not mine, so I've always been supportive of my dear son. Do you think that I really do not know that you went to find signor Scarlatti during that trip to Naples, and ended up making friends with his son, also named Domenico? Do you really think that I have no idea what happened after you came back from Naples? Also, your deep friendship with that young man who has red hair in Rome when he went on tour, what's his name again?
`Ahh yes, il Prete Rosso. Your dear old father knows everything, but never thought of cutting down your relationship with music, else he wouldn't have employed Giovanni Legrenzi as your violin teacher when you wished to learn, and wouldn't have spend huge sums of money on employing a castrato to teach you singing.'
`Yes, father.' My voice was shaking. I held on tightly to the wet handkerchief, trying to hold in my emotions.
`My dearest son, I plead for something-'
`Father I'll do anything!' I said subconsciously.
`Will you play the violin for me? I haven't heard you play in a long time, I'm almost getting tired of hearing your voice at the operahouse though, someone who dares to compete with castrati of who sings a longer note***.'
I smiled back at Father, and started to unpack my violin. Shortly after, I decided to play a sonata by Signor Corelli, from his famous op5. The tune flowed through my mind on my fingers, and I closed my eyes, challenging myself to play double stops without either looking at my bow contact point or my left hand when there were shifts. I was completely drawn into the music...until the end of the 3rd movement, that depressing A minor...
`Wait, play one of your own pieces...' his voice got dim, so dim that I could have hardly figured out if I were playing the second movement.
I put down my violin, and there was a melancholic tune running through my mind, the first sonata of my sonate da chiesa. The D minor that was considered to be technically challenging. Later I bowed out the first note, and, unusually used vibrato on those long notes. I shifted up to 5th position in the second movement, and heard father mutter a silent prayer. I watched him carefully, not realising that I have slowed down from my original tempo, then I witnessed something which would have shaded me for the entire year-father, he clung on to his matress, and tried to rise from his bed, but soon lost all his energy. He slowly fell back on his pillow, and let out-his last breath.
`Father?' I put away my violin, and slowly walked towards the bed, `Father can you hear me?' I laid my fingers over his pulse, and...there was nothing to be felt. But due to the fact that most of the times I cannot feel anyone's pulses****, I reached out for his nose, to feel his breath, and, same with his pulse, there was nothing to be felt...
No, this can't be true. I haven't finished the sonata yet! This cannot be true! Just a few moments later he was still here, he was listening to my playing! This cannot be true...
A tear dropped off my chin.
`Tomaso, why is it so quiet over here? You haven't finished the sonata yet have you?' Domenico pushed the door open. He was looking at us worriedly, and later, raised an eyebrow at me in suspicion, to which I nodded, reluctantly.
There was my father, who has just lost all signs of life, lying down in my arms. I was trying to convince myself that Domenico asked whether father was fine, instead of...
Domenico also reached out for father's pulse, then slowly looked down at the floor, and knelt down, whispering a prayer. I was still in a conflicting mood, until Domenico called for the servants to bring the priest, and then my tears began to pour out, like how it rains during Monsoon in Venice.
Then I knew, that my father was gone forever. I knelt down with Domenico, and tried to keep calm, except I was so overwhelmed with woe and regret, that I had to cover my face with my handkerchief most of the time. Never have I been this mournful in my entire life...
If I had spoken to father before, and if I haven't made scornful assumptions of him, our conflict would have been resolved much earlier than today, 23 January 1709. I would have to be a martyr of a selfish son, who dares to make foolish judgments on his father, a supportive and loving father who was also open-minded with his son's career.
I weeped a silent prayer when the priest arrived, and promised my younger brothers to aid the family business financially, and also if they had any technical difficulties, by that time that was the only thing I could have done to compensate my mistakes.
Repentance is the state of being guilty, and being tormented with helplessness. By this time, I realised no matter how many tragedies I have written, neither of them could express my sadness, nor could any of them make up for my mistakes.
I shall enjoy my martyrdom, my heart's grief...*****
**这个gala是促成阿尔比诺尼和玛格丽特结婚的关键。主要内容就是尼尼被自己父亲叫回家里参加这个gala，然后遇到了一个对他动心的女生（这个女生的父母在威尼斯是有地位的），并且明示自己想跟他结婚（怎么明示的可以看God Rot Tunbridge Wells之亨德尔是怎么被扑倒的…反正那个电影里的亨德尔长得也很像尼尼带入一下无所谓…），结果就是尼尼换上了carnival的服装（他弟弟给他的），然后跟被雇到现场唱歌的玛格丽特开始跳舞+互对情歌…
*****Amor Sorte Destino里面的recitative的英文翻译
8 June, 1688
Today seems special, but I've forgotten why it is special. Let me just run through my schedule-wait? A full day at the shops?! I thought I was meant to go to my violin lessons in the afternoon...well it looks like I would have to sneak out.
8 June, 1688
Today seems special, but I've forgotten why it is special. Let me just run through my schedule-wait? A full day at the shops?! I thought I was meant to go to my violin lessons in the afternoon...well it looks like I would have to sneak out.
Antonio said that he likes to see me wear red clothing, I guess I'll put on the red justacorps again, even though it does seem a little bit dull if I wore the same clothing almost everyday, but I guess he likes it, so ehh...
Breakfast. Father had went off to work early so it was only mother and I who were at the table. She spoke about wigs again. I can't believe it...why? Is my blonde hair not beautiful enough? I'm definitely not shaving my head bald just for that massive wig that does not fit me, and I don't care how old I am right now, I'm definitely not wearing wigs.
Heading towards father's shops on a boat (with my baby instrument), oh please give me some extra work to do...I've been entering transactions for the entire year, can I even possible touch a balance sheet or trading and profit and loss account in my lifetime? Anyways I'm going to sneak out during lunchtime.
Why did father's secretary chat to me for so long...It's one and I still haven't had lunch yet. I guess I'll buy something on the way to signor Legrenzi's place...
Oh lord I've finally managed to sneak out. I would have to hurry, else I can't reach in time, and what's worse, there are no boats...I would have to run there...with heels?!
I reached signor Legrenzi's place quite late, almost at the end of Antonio's lesson. The two of them looked at me with surprise, especially Antonio, he was staring so hard his eyeballs might have popped out...
'What happened to your hair?'
'Where's the ribbon?'
'Hmm? It came loose?'
'Yes...your hair's just free from any lovelocking at the moment. I like it though.'
'Both me and signor Legrenzi have a surprise for you.'
And I saw Antonio pick up his violin and started playing a sonata in D major. His playing has improved by a lot from the first time I met him, and his music understanding also levelled up. Signor Legrenzi was accompanying him on the harpsichord, and was smiling at me, which made me a little uncomfortable, so I backed up a bit from the doorway. Antonio saw me, and followed in my direction, and stood right in front of me until he finished the sonata with a D major chord.
'Your playing has improved by a lot!' I crouched down and hugged him.
'Thanks! I composed this piece for-'
'You composed it yourself?'
'Yes, Antonio did compose it himself, and it is for a special purpose.' Signor Legrenzi walked towards our direction.
'A special purpose?'
'Tomaso don't tell me you forgot the date today.'
'It's 8th of June, right?'
'And?' The two of them smiled at me, and made a gesture, telling me to continue.
'And?' I asked in confusion.
'Oh lord please don't tell me you've forgotten...' signor Legrenzi sighed.
'It's your birthday!' Antonio whispered in my ears.
'My birthday?' I tried to remember. Yes it is my birthday, but I've never celebrated it, because this day doesn't become special because it is my birthday. I never want to make a huge fuss about days I don't need to, and as time passes, I forget about celebrating my birthday, but remembering instead that I've just turned 17.
'Yes, don't you celebrate it?'
'Aww that's such a pity. I have time after class today, maybe we could hang out for a bit longer?'
'As you wish then.' I smiled at Antonio and pinched his cheeks.
Venice wasn't as prosperous as other cities, such as Milan or Florence. Antonio and I walked along the Great Canal, like what we have always done, but this time turning left towards the San Marco Basilica, and headed towards a cafè that was nearby. Antonio bought me a piece of cheesecake (I certainly enjoyed it, although it was too small for me to actually enjoy it), and we sat in the cafè, relaxing.
'How come you don't celebrate your birthday?'
'It's just that I don't want to make a fuss out of it.' I tried scopping up more cake, but only scooping up air, and looked at my spoon in embarrassment.
'But it's special, ehh?' He tilted his head.
'Hmm maybe.' I started sipping the hot chocolate, and failed to because I had finished that as well.
'Ha! You're done with both of them.' He giggled.
To hide my embarrassment I called the waiter to fill our cups again, and ordered that we should get a bowl of pretzels. Antonio started to munch on them as soon as they were served and...he didn't even leave a piece for me!
'I thought it's my birthday? And you end up taking everything!' I laughed.
'Come on, it's almost 5 o' clock, I'm hungry.' He covered his mouth, which was full of pretzels.
'Swallow all of that first, incase you choke. It's 5 already?'
'Hmm. We should go to a restaurant then, I'll pay for the food-'
'Nice! Now I can have whatever I want whether it is out of my budget or not!' He grinned.
'Antonio...I thought it was my birthday, shouldn't you be a bit considerate about my wallet, what happens if I run out?'
'Ahh I know you won't, don't worry. I know a place that's really good, follow me.' He held my hand and lead me into an alley, and opened a door right beside a pub.
'I'm sure you have not been here before.'
'Yeah, where is this place?' I looked around the restaurant in curiosity, attracted by everything I saw and heard.
'A restaurant, I love how it's quiet here, and there's usually an ensemble that plays trio sonatas at around 6pm, I think you'll like it.
'I do, especially that it's settled, also I like the lighting, it's quite dark and nice to scare little kids.' I smirked at Antonio.
'Ahh you're making me scared...' He clenched on to my hand, so tight that I felt like his nails were digging into my fingers...
'I was joking, come let's take a seat, what do you wish to have?'
'Anything, I mean I'll just have whatever you like.'
*skips the eating because I'm lazy.*
We finished our meals at around 7, and it was turning dark outside. I walked with Antonio along the Great Canals again, and there was absolutely no one on the streets. Antonio started to wrap his hands around my arm (I'm guessing he's petrified of the dark), and looked around the streets.
'What's the matter?'
'Don't worry, I'm here.' I patted his back.
'I think we shouldn't be outside this late...'
'Do you wish for me to walk with you back home?'
'I think I'll be alright on my own.'
'But it's dark now.'
'Umm, then I guess you can come with me until I reach the street? My father doesn't like to see me hanging out with others so I don't want us two to get into trouble.'
'Sure then, just remember that I'm always here for you.' Before I finished the sentence, a thunderbolt struck and it started to rain. Antonio gave a light squeal and I cuddled him immediately.
'You're afraid of the thunder?'
'No-' then came another rumble that scared him so much he started to weep.
'It's alright, I'll walk with you back home, alright?' I stroke his hair and beamed in his direction.
I passed him my justacorps so he could keep warmth, and wiped his tears with my handkerchief.
'Keep it, you're only wearing a shirt.'
'But you're just wearing a waistcoat as well…'
'It's fine. I'll be fine but you need to keep warm.'
'Just keep it.' I covered Antonio up with the justacorps.
'I've reached the street. Do you mind waiting for a second, I have something for you.' Antonio ran back to his door and came out later, holding a stuffed toy.
'What's this?' I gazed at the toy in amazement.
'It's…it's a stuffed horse that I made myself, I'm sorry that I didn't get to buy a wooden one for you, but I guess you can cuddle on to this when you go to bed.'
I took the horse from his hands, and examined it. It was a flaxen chestnut horse made out of red linen. The manes and tail were from yellow strings, the hooves were wrapped in black linen, the eyes were from old buttons and the horse was stuffed with cotton.
'Sorry it looks really shabby, my budget-'
'No I absolutely love it! I've always longed for something I can cuddle to when I went to bed. Moreover I like it because you made it for me, not because of what it was made out of, I'm not that materialistic.'
'Aww I love you Tomaso!'
'Love as in friends, you're my best friend, aren't you?'
'Of course I am, and we’ll always remain as best friends.'
I took out my watch, and told him that it would be too late if we continued chatting.
'Alright, I’ll go home by myself, you should go home ASAP as well.'
'Yeah sure, stay safe!'
'Arrivederci, mio amico.'
I reached home at around 8:30, completely soaked and was shivering in the coldness. The butler brought a warm towel for me and handed me a cup of warm milk with honey (absolutely disgusting…). Mother ushered me upstairs to take a bath and get changed into clean clothes ASAP because she had prepared something for me.
There were brand new garments spread out on my bed, and I placed the toy horse beside them. I quickly took a shower and stared at the new garments, that consisted of a high-collared red velvet justacorps, a caramel waistcoat, a pair of beige breeches, woollen stockings, a gold-lined cravat, a white cotton shirt and a red banyan. I put on the shirt, the breeches, the cravat and the banyan instead, because it was quite late. The butler quickly ushered me downstairs into the dining room, and I saw both of my parents sitting by the table, looking very strict, so strict that I thought I was going to get punished for walking in the rain, as it was considered to be unhealthy. As I bowed to them, father quickly grinned at me and rung a bell. Several servants brought up a tub of vanilla gelato, and scooped it into our bowls. I looked at them in confusion as they smiled at me, and the awkward atmosphere did not break itself until father spoke:
'Happy birthday, my dear son.'
'Oh yes, thank you father.' I nodded at him.
'And remember the trip to Cremona I went on last month?'
'Your father's brought something you'll really love.'
'Something I would really love?'
'Yes, take a guess.' My mother said.
'Umm, is it an instrument?'
'Yes, come and take a look yourself.'
I unpacked the instrument from its well-varnished wooden case, it was a violin, a Stradivarius violin.
'A Strad?' I shrieked with surprise.
'Yes, I believe you can use this for your performances, and you can practise on a day-to-day basis with the Amati you have right now.' Said my father.
'I…I don't know how to express my happiness with words, I'm overwhelmed with content.' I couldn't control my facial expressions, and was at the point of dancing around the room with joy.
'Look at you, my dear little boy. Come and sit by mum.' Mother waved to me and tapped on the chair beside her. 'I can't believe you're seventeen this year, some years ago you were still a little boy, who was still shorter than me. Look at you now,' she rubbed my cheeks, 'you’re almost taller than your father now!'
'Mother…come on…' I smiled and started blushing.
'Alright, finish the ice-cream and go to bed, it's quite late and you should go to bed quickly. Because you went to work today you'll have a day off tomorrow.' Father patted on my back and smiled at me.
'And next time don't run around in the rain, I don't want you getting sick.' Mother fed me a spoonful of ice-cream.
'Alright, let him finish the food himself, he's not a baby now, he's just turned 17.'Father kissed mother on the cheeks.
'He's always my little darling, no matter how old he is.' Mother handed me the spoon and kissed father back on the cheeks.
I went upstairs, back to my room after placing my violins in my practice room. The butler got a cup of cherry juice for me, incase I couldn't sleep because of all that excitement I was in. I drank the entire cup, and told him that he could take a rest from work for the rest of the day. Quickly, I brushed my teeth, washed my face and got changed into my nightgown, and slipped into bed, while playing with the toy horse Antonio made for me. I fell into a deep slumber quickly, and cuddled on the toy horse. Before falling completely asleep, I felt the butler covering me up with a light blanket, blew out my candles and closed my door after he had left.
'Are you asleep, master?’
There was silence.
'Well, I guess you are by the fact that you're not responding, enjoy your encounter with Signor Vivaldi in your dreams, and I can tell that you're enjoying it from your smile-'
'Alright I'm going to sleep.' I blushed.
'Yes master, have a good night with signor Vivaldi.’
还as in friends...你之后说的one level above friendship是不是打脸了？说是不是？！
Vespetta e Pimpinone（下一篇或者下下篇会考）
L'estro armonico-op 3 no 9（跟上一篇卖的安利一样嘻嘻）
Sonata a tre op 1 no 3 in A major
RUSAGI藤井 | 寂烬*
RUSAGI藤井 | 寂烬*
斯：哇太开心了！我跟你说亨德尔这个人…bla bla bla…
小斯的父亲，Alessandro Scarlatti是出了名的性情古怪+难交往（所以为什么他儿子人那么好啊…能跟亨德尔交朋友的人真的是世间少有），不过老斯卡拉蒂在历史上对小斯也是很好的，比如对他的音乐教育（小斯十六岁在那不勒斯刚当上maestro di capella就被他爸发配到威尼斯深造去了…）
推荐一个关于小斯卡拉蒂的纪录片，叫Domenico Scarlatti-His Music and His World，真的讲的很细致了（还可以免费听Puyana弹小斯的奏鸣曲多好）
`Can you not remember me?!'
`You look familiar.'
`Il Prete Rosso! That's my nickname!'
`Il Prete Rosso...' he repeated that name ...
`Can you not remember me?!'
`You look familiar.'
`Il Prete Rosso! That's my nickname!'
`Il Prete Rosso...' he repeated that name over and over again. `Antonio Vivaldi?'
`Yes! Do you remember me?' I was so excited that he had finally remembered my name.
`Hmm... I think-' his speech was interrupted with a scream. There were the concussions again...
`Tomaso you must be joking with me, aren't you? You know who I am!' I was shaking him, trying to hypnotise myself that he was only trying to fool me, instead of actually suffering from a memory loss.
`Could you please stop shaking me, you're making me hurt.' He pleaded. `Tomaso? Who's that?'
`Tomaso Albinoni, the greatest opera composer who has ever lived, he refers to himself as Il Dilettante Veneto.' If it wasn't for the fact that I tried to recall his past memories, I definitely wouldn't have called him the greatest composer, never, I think.
`Albinoni?' He looked at me innocently, his eyes blinking at me, as if he was examining me and that name I had just called.
`Albinoni...' his thoughts were cut short with a yelp. This time the concussions were worse. He was in so much pain that he could not speak, but let out wails and sobs.
I quickly got him a handkerchief and started drying his tears. He suddenly hugged me, while rubbing his face against my chest (such a childish but cute thing to do, wait a second, do you know how expensive a shirt is?!), seeking for comfort. I laid him back on his bed. He had remained bedridden for the past 3 days, after the riding accident in Florence.
We were both summoned by the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Tomaso was supposed to compose sonatas for his orchestra and I was ordered to entertain him while he went hunting, but as a person who suffered from asthma, I gave the chance to Tomaso, knowing that he loved to ride. What I didn't expect was that his horse got spooked while he was cantering, and he fell off (I told him to wear a helmet and he didn't listen...). The Grand Duke's men came back with him after sunset, who was by then unconscious. I felt lucky that he had woken up the next morning, but was put down when I realised that he had lost his memory. I've been trying to remind him of who he is, but in vain...
`It's nine pm. You should retire.'
`Could you tell me a bedtime story?'
`What kind of bedtime story do I know, I'm a priest, I don't have children. What kind of weird proposal is this...' I thought, `I'm afraid I don't know any bedtime stories, you know I'm unmarried.'
`Then can you tell me everything you know between, umm, Antonio, what's his name again?'
`Ahh yes, and the dilettante dude.'
`Sure. It would take sometime though.' I told myself that this might be the best chance to bring back his past memories again, so I began-
`If it takes too long then you can tell me a little each day, it's quite late for you as well.'
`Such a considerate boy, wait he's 7 years older than me nevermind.' I thought, while running my fingers through his hair and pinching his cheeks. He seemed to enjoy it, because usually he would hit my hand if I dared touching him. I chuckled to myself.
`What's the pleasant matter?' He asked me curiously.
`Pleasant memories of the past.' I smiled back at him, and began:
Both me and Tomaso were students of Giovanni Legrenzi, the greatest Venetian violinist of the 17th century. I had first met him when I was 9, at Signor Legrenzi's lesson. He was a charming, slender young man, with a fair face, rosy cheeks, long, arched eyebrows, hazel eyes and rouge lips. That day, he was wearing a plain shirt with a cravat, without a ribbon wrapped around it though, his waistcoast was made out of brown brocade and were sleeveless (typical 17th century fashion), the lower half consisted of matching brocade breeches, silk stockings and high heels with gold buckles, though they were black, all black, even the heels, despite the fact that the red heels was the fashion at that time. He was sitting on the couch by the harpsichord that was at the back of the room, while holding his violin and bow with both hands, and his azure justacorps was held with his right arm. Despite his really aristocratic fashion tastes he wasn't wearing a wig, in fact he had tied his long, blonde hair as a low ponytail with a red ribbon.
It seemed like he was there just to chat with him, as they were talking about how different parts should be played in a trio sonata. Their conversations were really educating if I were at a music lecture, but he had taken up my lesson time! I was ready for some quarralling when he noticed me, put on his justacorps, packed up his violin and left the room. I thought he was going to leave me alone but, no. He stayed in the living room, watching me play Corelli's trio sonatas with Signor Legrenzi in amazement. He must have noticed that I was staring at him, and turned his head away (no idea why he was blushing). At the end of the first movement he came back in (what a stalker I thought), and asked politely whether we needed an accompanist or not. I was going to argue back with him when Signor Legrenzi agreed to his proposal, and gave him the score of the bass line.
I wanted to trick him a little, so when I reached my solo I decided to flex and (do a really scrilegious thing) change the tempo throught the piece. I wanted to make him annoyed so he can leave me alone. To my surprise the bass line that he played on the harpsichord still fitted perfectly with my solo, and he even managed to improvise a little with the higher register. I looked back at him, and quickly turned back when I made eye contact with him. Then came the tutti section. I couldn't fool around anymore because I had to play with signor Legrenzi, else I might get punished if I was playing out of tempo.
The 3rd movement came along, and I saw my chance to prank him even harder. I improvised on the music, and added in a lot of rubato (that was a common thing to do during the baroque era, not fun though if you haven't rehearsed it with the harpsichordist). I thought I must have vexed him, but I was wrong. He still managed to keep up with my pranks, and eventually started leading my parts. I felt ashamed for myself, but also continued to take hold of the right to lead the players-it was something that the first violin should do, not the guy on the harpsichord. But I was wrong. I was defeated again, because he started leading my part, and strangely, I found out that whenever I listened to his playing, the music seemed to flow smoother and more natural. I knew, by this time, I had fallen for this young man.
The 4th movement came, and we all played in unison. It was then I noticed how he was making eye contact with signor Legrenzi and me, to get information about how we were going to play our parts, and he also listened to us carefully, to make sure that his bass line fitted in perfectly with our playing.
`Possibly the best accompanist out there, actually listening to the other players, and can get them back on track quickly as well.' I thought. I looked back at the young man, and possibly taking this as a queue, he nodded and smiled back at me, and I felt my cheeks became hot. I possibly looked like a tomato (this is not a pun) by then, as I smiled back at him and turned back, embarrased.
The sonata had ended, and he told Signor Legrenzi that he was going to leave, he had felt like he had been a little rude just intruding in to someone's lesson time, and quickly apologised to me.
`No, I thought it was great!' I smiled back at him. `I loved your accompaniment, you must be a wonderful harpsichordist, signor!'
`I actually learnt it myself during my singing lessons, so I don't think I sounded that well, I was just trying to keep up with you two.'
`Nope, I think you sounded great! You're the first harpsichordist I know who listens to others.'
`Oh, please don't call me a harpsichordist, I play the violin. And I'm not professional at either of them, I am just an amateur musician.'
`But that doesn't mean you sound bad, I look foward to playing the harpsichord like you one day!'
`Thank you, jeune fille.' He bowed towards me.
`Such a courteous young man, different from those who would make fun of me.' I had thought. I had never been treated properly by the people around me, first because of my hair colour, second my health and last but not least, I'm the son of a poor barber who was looked down as an entertainer instead of a violinist (yes my father was a professional violinist and a barber). But this young man, his smile is so warming, and his behaviour is so courteous and...
My thoughts were interrupted when Signor Legrenzi asked him to play something for the two of us. I was excited, as I wanted to witness his playing, totally forgetting about the fact that he had already taken 6 mins of my lesson. He looked at us hesitantly, but after Signor Legrenzi requesting a couple of times and me playing cute, he took off his justacorps and went to unpack his violin.
He began to play a sonata by Giuseppe Torelli.
*skips playing because I am lazy.*
By the time he had finished I was shocked. He not only nailed the hardest bits of the sonata, but also improvised on it. He flexed, but his flexings made sure that the music sounded more natural, and pleasing for one to hear, instead of playing like a 100% accuracy but 0% musicality virtuoso who is just showing off himself, no matter those techniques and improvisations suited the music or not. Signor Legrenzi was impressed with his playing, while I looked at him in awe. He bowed towards the two of us and packed up his violin. I asked him whether he could stay until my lesson was over.
`Certainly.' He answered, not forgetting to smile at me.
I walked out when my lesson was over, and saluted the young man who was sitting on the chairs in the living room. We walked out together, and I started to ask him questions.
`How do you make the music so natural sounding? And you were flexing right? How do you make sure that it sounds pleasing at the same time as enjoying yourself?'
`Put yourself in the music, think about what the composer was thinking when he wrote the piece, try to figure out how his/her music should sound like and do your best at presenting it! Also make sure that the techniques used fitted well with the music. You are definitely not going to use tremolo during a long passage of semi quavers when the tempo marking is allegro, instead use it as an ornament in the slow movements with long notes. On the other hand, to keep the music flowing you can add dynamics, and could possibly use a bit of rubato. Just make sure that they're added in the correct spots else it sounds sacrilegious.'
`How do I know where to add in?'
`Hmm, I can't really explain it out, but you'll get the hang of it after you have been playing music for a long time.'
`So more practising?'
There was silence. We were walking along the Great Canal, wandering off to nowhere. He broke the silence later.
`Where do you live? I can take a stroll with you back to your place.'
`It's no big deal, I come and leave violin lessons by myself.'
`But you're a young boy, I don't find it safe that you're walking by yourself.'
`It's fine. But if you want my address it's-'
`Tomaso!' My speech was interrupted by the shriek of a middle-aged man, who was marching towards the two of us.
`It's 4 o' clock and you still haven't been at the shops yet, your ledgers have been sitting on your desk for the entire day, waiting for you to fill them in. Why are you out here with your violin again, and you expect me, you old father to come and get you back to the shops everyday?'
`Sorry father, I had lost track of the time, I went to Signor Legrenzi today because...' responded the young man.
`No need to explain, just get yourself seated on your chair and fill up those ledgers. Go another day when you're not having work.'
I looked at them in confusion, and that's when the middle aged man noticed me. He was a hefty man, and when he looked down at me I thought he was going to eat me alive.
`Who is this?' Asked the middle aged man to his son.
`He's... What's your name?'
The middle aged man started chuckling `I thought you guys were hanging out for the whole day and you don't even know the little boy's name?'
`My name is Antonio Vivaldi.' I answered, not wanting the young man to be embarrased.
`No wonder, your hair colour is identical to thst your father's.' The middle aged man responded.
`You know my father, sir?'
`He's a really famous violinist, I know. But I don't know of him.'
`Ahh I see, well what's your-'
`Tomaso you're coming to the shops with me right now.' Said the middle aged man to his son, pulling him away from me.
`Sorry to interrupt your conversation but my son lacks some time management skills, he's supposed to me entering transactions in ledgers and journals right now, maybe you guys can play together another time.'
`It's alright, sir.' I said politely. A polite son with, a sort of polite father? Well he was very courteous with me. But his actions of pulling his son away from me definitely wasn't elegant, it must have been painful for that young man to have those massive hands clenched around his slim arms, because I saw the pain on his face.
`Father, come on I can walk by myself, you're hurting me.'
`Oops, I'm sorry, but you have to hurry up, oh look there is a boat there, come you're going on that boat right now.'
And they ran towards the boat. I watched them while laughing at their comic actions when I suddenly remembered: I didn't know the young man's name either.
`Signor! What's your name I forgot to ask?'
`Tomaso Giovanni Albinoni, I'm 16 this year and I live at...' I didn't hear the rest, because they had already gotten faraway with the boat.
`So that's how the two men met?'
`I think I have encountered something like this before as well, or maybe I witnessed one, or maybe it's deja vu. I don't really know.'
`Well, trust me you were part of this before.'
`I was? But I don't recall learning an instrument. In fact I don't think I can even read music now, how do I play like that young man whatever his name was?' Tomaso still sounded innocent, his eyes, though looked like they were looking at my soul deeply and were questioning him.
`You really can't read music now?' I asked, my voice shaking as I was on the brink of sobbing, because I was worried that it might be true. Then I would have lost a soulmate who I can discuss music with and would never disrespect me in any form.
`Well, I don't know because I haven't seen sheet music so far, but I guess you could try. At least I can still read books, right?'
His statement gave me hope, and I quickly found one of his manuscripts (they were all lying on his desk) and slid it in his hands. I lit more candles so the music could be read easier, and I heard his words.
`I can! Yes I can read music, and I'm surprised that I find this music familiar, I even know which direction it is going in even though I seem to have never seen it before.'
Just then, the manuscript papers dropped from his hands, he had another headache.
`Are you alright? Don't worry I'm here if you're not feeling well, I'll call the doctor... ugh I can't it's too late everyone must be resting.'
`You, Antonio? That's your name, yes it is. Why does my head hurt all the time when I find something familiar?' His voice was diminishing, as it was painful for him to speak in agony.
`I don't know, you have to accept the fact that I'm not a doctor or a know-all... Oh come on I'm always here, stop acting like a child okay? Ugh fine, looks like I have to hug you to comfort you, and stop using my shirt as a handkerchief or a piece of tissue paper, it's expensive and hard to wash.'
`Sorry, but... ugh my head hurts too much!'
`I can't solve this issue though, sorry that you have to go through this much pain.' I rubbed his temple and wiped his tears with my handkerchief. `Do you feel better now.'
`Hmm, a little.' He tried forcing a smile out to tell me that he had felt better, but it made me even sadder to see the sorrow in his eyes.
`I'll stay here all night, okay? Whenever your head hurts just ring the bell I've put on your bedside cabinet.'
`Wouldn't that be annoying for you though?'
`It's alright. I just don't want you to suffer too much.'
`Thanks, you are such a kind person, Antonio.'
I watched him fall asleep, and let out a long sigh. I could not control my emotions, and started crying after I had closed his bedroom door. Will he lose his memory forever? He doesn't seem to remember anything I have told him so far, and even if he tried to, those headaches will just come back and torment him. I don't see the point of being called a kind person, if I can't even help my soulmate recover from these sudden changes...
Tremolo在现在的定义是振音，也就是用很快的运弓速度拉出一堆重复的音符（这解释跟没解释没啥区别），但是巴洛克时期到古典时期（至少早古典）是指揉弦，也就是vibrato。利奥波德·莫扎特曾经在他一本关于小提琴的书里写过，揉弦可以用，但是尽量少用，其作用是在拉长音的时候做装饰，也就是说不是巴洛克音乐不能揉弦，而是得揉对了地儿，不然就跟Ben Lee或者Vov Dylan拉野蜂飞舞一样（关键词：sacrilegious）
尼尼教红毛的那段话是我自己的感受，有的时候并不是炫技就能打动观众，而是得让观众对音乐产生共鸣，有些时候作曲家写的音乐本身已经够打动观众，就没有必要加一堆炫技的东西上去（你在Lascia ch'io pianga里面加一句run试试，我保证我给亨德尔递定音鼓而且保证他分分钟到你头上）。详情可以参考Farinelli il Castrato里面男主唱亨德尔的歌剧和自己哥哥的歌剧的时候观众不同的反应和Tous le matins du monde里面Marais为什么一开始不受老师待见，直到电影最后Marais跟老师说自己发现了音乐里情感的一面，老师才接受了他这个学生（电影里面有一幕我特别喜欢，就是Marais回到巴黎（好象是巴黎）找老师的时候，他说自己在音乐中发现了绝望，而老师则是说自己在音乐里找到了希望，并且接受了这个学生，一心一意的教他viola da gamba）
还有就是为什么尼尼作为一个出身富商家庭的男孩子却可以穿贵族的服饰，well，他的母亲来自威尼斯的一个贵族家庭（The Fabris Family）所以他小时候也是被当成贵族养大的（不过有文献描写阿尔比诺尼一生都过着贵族般的生活，而且他成年之后已经经济独立，真·富有）
此外老安东尼奥的作用还在于后面反衬出Giovanni Battista Vivaldi对自己孩子不同的态度。老安东尼奥跟当时别的父母（比如亨德尔的父亲，泰勒曼的母亲）有一大差异，就是他允许孩子去搞音乐，前提是得分清主次。文章中老安东尼奥因为托玛索没有去实习都没有生气，而是跟儿子说以后换一个时间去找Legrenzi聊天/上课，这样不耽误正事; 而不是一棒子打死，不让儿子继续学音乐
历史上的老安东尼奥跟托玛索关系怎么样还是个问题，但是大部分说法都是父子不和。我在一些文献上看到说父亲把自己所有的遗产和主要的店铺都留给了儿子，还有一些是说啥都没留，还有的说只留了所有店铺的管理权; 但是这些文献在一点上保持了一致，那就是老安东尼奥的遗言里明确指出托玛索可以不继承他的商店，并且去追寻音乐。关于托玛索的童年和音乐教育我们至今一无所知，除了当时有传言说他跟Legrenzi学过小提琴，和科莱利学过乐理，还是他爸把他送到罗马去学的。如果这些传言是真的话，那老安东尼奥是真的开明，谁会为了当时一个不受待见的行业给自己孩子找全北意大利最好的音乐家，就为了他能有一个可以放松的爱好？而且就算老安东尼奥认为托玛索玩物丧志，他的遗言可以明确写道他的产业有托玛索继承，论理更应该这样，因为托玛索是长子，就算他“玩物丧志”他也在青年时期实习过，可以顺利的接手业务（而且在老安东尼奥去世之前托玛索的签名永远是Il Violino Dilettante Veneto译为威尼斯的小提琴业余爱好者，也就是说他从未把作曲看成职业，知道父亲去世之后，为了填补产业的亏空只好把自己的签名从业余爱好者改成作曲家，这说不通为什么老安东尼奥会这么不喜欢托玛索）
我认为父子二人的冲突应该不是在音乐上，因为种种迹象表明老安东尼奥对托玛索很开明，而且托玛索在父亲去世之前都没有把音乐当成一个职业（很多文献中写了for pleasure instead of profit）那么…（在我认为）真相只有一个
在我的分析（全靠看文献，因为没有关于他性格的直接记载）里面托玛索是性情应该不错（他从未公开说过任何一个作曲家/自己竞争对手的不是）一个比较内向（自闭）（看看为什么北意大利的音乐家们他只跟Biffi玩儿，是的，虽然认识红毛但是两人关系怎么样也是个谜…据说红毛很尊敬他，但是他对红毛的态度我就不清楚了）、心气儿高（为啥在自己的messa a tre voci被教廷拒绝后没有写过任何sacred music，以及在1730-41年南意的音乐潮流影响到了整个意大利之后他直接放弃写歌剧了），比较obedient但是对很多东西都有自己看法的人（也就是说如果那件事情不符合他的三观他不会明指出来，但是心里会不爽），所以他和父亲的矛盾很有可能出在误会上，我认为老安东尼奥曾经劝过（是好好的劝还是直接开打也是个问题，不过后者会加深这个误会）托玛索要少玩儿音乐，毕竟这是一个不受待见+很难赚钱的行业，但是这在儿子眼中就会被认为是干预自己的爱好，加上他不爱交谈，很有可能不跟父亲解释清楚但是自己疏远他（这种事儿要是换了亨德尔、泰勒曼或者维瓦尔第肯定有不同的效果）
Corelli-violin sonatas op5
Legrenzi-balletti a tre op16
Domenico Scarlatti-sonata in E major k380（坐实了这篇人设借鉴小斯）