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31_days2005-08-09 04:08 pm
moderntime.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-09 04:08 pm
[August 9] [Julian Kestrel] Anno Mirabilis
Title: My peace depends on her
Day/Theme: August 9th / Anno mirabilis (Year of Wonders)
Series: The Julian Kestrel mysteries by Kate Ross
Character/Pairing: Julian Kestrel
Rating: G
In a corner of the room, a young man put the heavy portfolio down on the music stand and let the notes die away tenderly.
"That was excellent, my son. Your phrasing improves with every rendition, but there are a few things..." Maestro Donati tapped his cane on the floor as he gave his comments.
"I shall remember next time, Maestro," Julian said gravely.
"Good. Now, Orfeo, perhaps your favorite?" My peace depends on her, Don Octavio's aria from Don Giovanni. Julian nodded. His teacher waited expectantly.
Dalla sua pace la mia dipende;
Quel che a lei piace vita mi rende,
Quel che le incresce morte mi dà.
S'ella sospira, sospiro anch'io;
È mia quell'ira, quel pianto è mio;
E non ho bene, s'ella non l'ha.
On her peace of mind depends mine too,
what pleases her gives life to me,
what grieves her wounds me to the heart.
If she sighs, I sigh with her;
her anger and her sorrow are mine,
and joy I cannot know unless she share it.
Every note had an anno mirabilis, an entire year of miracles compressed into sound. During these lessons with Maestro Donati, he understood the phrase, "the devil in music," not to mean simply the tritoni, an interval of three whole tones, but the sheer seduction of notes and phrases. When he sang, it was impossible for him to not rush headlong into a sensation heady and intoxicating, more transcendent than the most beautiful woman or the finest wine.
It was here, deep within the music, that he could be wholly himself as he could rarely be, without masks or barriers. He trusted Master Donati implicitly.
Marchese Lodovico he trusted not at all, though it was the nobleman's patronage that allowed him these precious lessons. He could not be entirely grateful. The Marchese felt this in his music, he was certain. He and the nobleman shared a love of music, and when the Marchese talked of launching his protege at La Scala, of presenting the greatest tenor Italy would ever know, Orfeo could almost be persuaded, but Julian could not. It was as if by going on the stage, Julian would betray Orfeo's heart.
Or perhaps it was the other way around.
Julian Kestrel and Orfeo were two different people. Julian Kestrel had many secrets, Orfeo had his own, different ones.
Within the music that Julian and Orfeo were one. And although they were integral parts of each other, there was nothing else that they shared.
Day/Theme: August 9th / Anno mirabilis (Year of Wonders)
Series: The Julian Kestrel mysteries by Kate Ross
Character/Pairing: Julian Kestrel
Rating: G
In a corner of the room, a young man put the heavy portfolio down on the music stand and let the notes die away tenderly.
"That was excellent, my son. Your phrasing improves with every rendition, but there are a few things..." Maestro Donati tapped his cane on the floor as he gave his comments.
"I shall remember next time, Maestro," Julian said gravely.
"Good. Now, Orfeo, perhaps your favorite?" My peace depends on her, Don Octavio's aria from Don Giovanni. Julian nodded. His teacher waited expectantly.
Dalla sua pace la mia dipende;
Quel che a lei piace vita mi rende,
Quel che le incresce morte mi dà.
S'ella sospira, sospiro anch'io;
È mia quell'ira, quel pianto è mio;
E non ho bene, s'ella non l'ha.
On her peace of mind depends mine too,
what pleases her gives life to me,
what grieves her wounds me to the heart.
If she sighs, I sigh with her;
her anger and her sorrow are mine,
and joy I cannot know unless she share it.
Every note had an anno mirabilis, an entire year of miracles compressed into sound. During these lessons with Maestro Donati, he understood the phrase, "the devil in music," not to mean simply the tritoni, an interval of three whole tones, but the sheer seduction of notes and phrases. When he sang, it was impossible for him to not rush headlong into a sensation heady and intoxicating, more transcendent than the most beautiful woman or the finest wine.
It was here, deep within the music, that he could be wholly himself as he could rarely be, without masks or barriers. He trusted Master Donati implicitly.
Marchese Lodovico he trusted not at all, though it was the nobleman's patronage that allowed him these precious lessons. He could not be entirely grateful. The Marchese felt this in his music, he was certain. He and the nobleman shared a love of music, and when the Marchese talked of launching his protege at La Scala, of presenting the greatest tenor Italy would ever know, Orfeo could almost be persuaded, but Julian could not. It was as if by going on the stage, Julian would betray Orfeo's heart.
Or perhaps it was the other way around.
Julian Kestrel and Orfeo were two different people. Julian Kestrel had many secrets, Orfeo had his own, different ones.
Within the music that Julian and Orfeo were one. And although they were integral parts of each other, there was nothing else that they shared.