The value of all-female choirs and ensembles was recognised as far back at the 18th century.

More often than we’d like to think, art has been created for really mercantile or pragmatic reasons.

The Church: ‘We need a cantata a week.’
Bach: ‘Order up!’
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London: ‘We love your music!’
Handel: ‘Rightyho. Here, have a dash more!’
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Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven [in unison]: ‘Gosh, I’m running really short of time, and this is such a great tune. I wonder if I could just repurpose it into this other thing…’

In 18th century Venice, if someone had conducted an audience survey and asked the question “what artform would you mostly likely support financially?” the answer would have been clear: we like vocal music, and we like it sung by WOMEN AND GIRLS!

Among the key concert presenters of the day were orphanages for foundlings. In Vivaldi’s case, it was the Ospedale della Pietà, an all-female institution; the others were mixed-sex. Vivaldi’s almost-40-year association with the Pietà saw him take on various roles, from violin master, to director of instrumental music, and also as a composer commissioned specially by the Pietà in order show off its female talent. The institution found these performances beneficial when seeking and securing donations and legacies. Most music performances in those days still took place in the court and the church. The Pietà boasted all-female cori that sang for church services, but for the general public, the girls also performed oratorios and orchestral music, and were often taught by some of the best in Italy. An instrument inventory from 1790 records that the Pietà still owned, among other things, seventeen violins, six small violas, two viola d’amore, four cellos, two mandolines, two lutes, one theorbo, four hunting horns (with accessories), and three flutes. Definitely an orchestra to be drawn from all that!

Two aspects of the cori’s performances set it apart from others happening in Venice around the same time. Firstly, in order to protect the girls’ modesty, they would perform out of sight of their audience, which no doubt added a layer of intrigue and perhaps titillated the imagination of those in the audience. Secondly, as there were no male voices, it was the women and girls who had to cover all the parts: tenor and bass lines, as well as their more familiar soprano and alto territory.

As you listen to our all-female Pinchgut chorus, and witness soprano Miriam Allan sing what she describes as ‘all the semi-quavers’, consider that all of this music was written for the foundlings of the Pietà. Quite honestly, it’s hard to imagine the musical and vocal maturity that some of those young girls must have possessed. And is yet another reason to be grateful for the joy of discovery that Pinchgut Opera and Erin Helyard afford us in bringing these pieces back into the light.