🎻In 18th-century Venice, there was a home for abandoned girls and orphans known as the "Ospedale della Pietà." Under strict discipline, the girls were taught sewing and music. One day, a young Catholic priest with vibrant red hair arrived as their new music teacher.
He suffered from severe, lifelong asthma. Because his breathing was too labored to lead a traditional Mass, he retreated from the altar and devoted himself entirely to teaching the children. He did more than just teach technique; he wrote "tailored scores" for each student. For a girl with short fingers, he simplified the technical passages; for one with exceptional talent, he composed concertos that made her instrument sing. Through these customized compositions, the orphan girls grew into a world-class orchestra that drew admirers from all across Europe.
However, by the mid-18th century, musical tastes shifted. The public no longer sought the music of the aging priest. He traveled to Vienna in search of a new opportunity, but when the Emperor—his intended patron—suddenly died, he found himself isolated and forgotten amidst the chaos of war.
In 1741, in a humble rented room in Vienna, he passed away in poverty and sickness. He was buried in a nameless pauper’s grave. The countless scores he had written throughout his life were discarded in forgotten corners. The world moved on, and he was erased from memory.
Nearly 200 years passed. In the autumn of 1926, a boarding school attached to a monastery in Piedmont, Italy, decided to sell a pile of old papers to fund roof repairs. These dusty stacks were sent to the University of Turin for appraisal. To everyone’s shock, 300 original, hand-written manuscripts emerged from the pile. Thanks to the massive donations from two fathers who had lost their own children, these scores were saved from being scattered and were preserved for the world. In the 20th century, humanity finally listened to the melodies that had been silent for two centuries. The birds of spring, the storms of summer, the harvests of autumn, and the biting winds of winter finally reached modern ears.
On March 4, 1678, during a powerful earthquake in Venice,
this priest was born. He spent his life battling asthma while painting soundscapes for orphan girls. His name was Antonio Vivaldi. At the moment of his birth, his breath was so faint that a midwife had to perform an emergency baptism on the spot. He carried that fragile breath with him until his final day.
🎵 / 🎶 Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons was never just instrumental music. For each season, he wrote a "sonnet" (a 14-line poem) directly into the score. "Spring has arrived, and the birds celebrate her with festive song"—these lines were written by Vivaldi himself. Perhaps, before he was a great composer, he was a poet who captured the world through sound.
[Spring]
I. Allegro
Springtime is upon us. The birds celebrate her return with festive song, and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes. Thunderstorms, those heralds of Spring, roar, casting their dark mantle over heaven, Then they die away to silence, and the birds take up their charming songs once more.
II. Largo
On the flower-strewn meadow, with leafy branches rustling overhead, the goat-herd sleeps, his faithful dog beside him.
III. Allegro
Led by the festive sound of rustic bagpipes, nymphs and shepherds lightly dance beneath the brilliant canopy of spring.
[Summer]
I. Allegro non molto
Under a hard season, fired up by the sun, languishes man, languishes the flock and burns the pine. We hear the cuckoo's voice; then sweet songs of the turtledove and finch are heard. Soft breezes stir the air, but Boreas suddenly opposes them; and the shepherd weeps, fearing the fierce storm and his destiny.
II. Adagio e piano - Presto e forte
His tired limbs are robbed of their rest by his fear of lightning and fierce thunder and by flies and hornets in furious swarms.
III. Presto
Alas, his fears were only too true! The sky is filled with thunder and lightning and a terrible storm cuts down the heads of the grain and the standing corn.
[Autumn]
I. Allegro
Celebrated by the peasant, with songs and dances, the pleasure of a happy harvest. And fired by the liquor of Bacchus, many end their revelry in sleep.
II. Adagio molto
Everyone is made to forget the dancing and song by the mild air which gives pleasure, and the season that invites many to the great enjoyment of a sweet sleep.
III. Allegro
The hunters, at the break of dawn, set forth with horns, guns and hounds. The animal flees, and they follow its tracks. Already frightened and tired by the great noise of guns and hounds, the wounded animal attempts to flee, but, beset, dies.
[Winter]
I. Allegro non molto
Frozen and trembling in the icy snow, in the severe blast of a horrid wind; running and stamping one's feet at every moment, our teeth chattering in the extreme cold.
II. Largo
To rest contentedly by the hearth, while outside the rain soaks hundreds.
III. Allegro
We walk on the ice, and moving with slow steps, for fear of falling, we step carefully. We go quickly, slip, and fall to the ground; then we go on the ice again and run fast until the ice cracks and opens. We hear the Sirossos, Boreas and all the winds at war to let out of the iron gates. This is winter, but such as it is, it brings joy.
Gemini의 응