“In Medea (like all Naples operas from that period) the audience is not supposed to hear the cembalo. It has no essential role to play and could be—would be—left out in a conducted performance. But it can be heard very distinctly by the nearby players and is thus a reference point for rhythm and ensemble, in the hands of someone who can decide what elements need his emphasis or attention.
“There is actually an 1826 description that explains it just this way—that you might hear it if you’re sitting near, but that its sounds are intended only for the ears of the band.
“It’s quite different, obviously, in secco recit operas—and there, ours has no problem being heard (Tancredi has those). There is also a period of 20 years or so where the composers have mostly made continuo keyboard superfluous in the concerted pieces, but still leave the odd moment here and there where it is needed to fill in the harmony. Youngest Mozart did that for instance, but not in the operas we know. Pre-reform Gluck, same thing: he was already basically scoring the whole thing with no need for a harmony player, but now and then he reverted to the older style.”
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Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get to the Tancredi, but I trust the accuracy of Will’s reporting. I still do wonder how well even his potent harpsichord would carry, unamplified, in the Met or similar auditorium, and whether or not its tone would lend sufficient support in our ears out in the house. And I wonder if one reason that, apparently unlike other Italian theatres, the Neapolitans insisted on all-accompagnato is because the San Carlo was (and remains) the largest auditorium in the country?
A few hours later, Will added this:
“What you hear in the middle of an orchestra (or on the podium in front of one) is very different from what the audience hears, even in modern orchestral setups, because sounds have different decay rates, different overtone structures, etc., etc. So the whole point of the cembalo once composers have scored the harmonic element completely in the written instrumental parts is that it is a convenient instrument of leadership in a band that is being held together largely by ear. There is never a written keyboard part—not even back in Bach and Handel times where it is essential because the written score at times is no more than a vocal line and bass line. It is always improvised by the player. When the written parts are few and thin, the improvised part is indeed audible to the public and is a fundamental interpretive element. But when you come to the later Gluck, to Mozart (apart from secco recit), and to Mayr, that improvised part is no longer musically necessary. Its function is purely practical. Before leaders stood there with a baton and a gestural language, they led by chiffy percussive sounds that served to guide their colleagues, but decayed well before reaching any but the very nearest parts of the audience.