The Greatest Castrato: Farinelli

An excerpt from the "Portrait group: The singer Farinelli and friends," by Jacopo Amigoni. Farinelli is third from the left. Public Domain

Sometimes, personal pain spreads beauty throughout the world. While this beauty does not justify the moral evils that caused the pain, nonetheless, art, music, and literature can turn suffering into inspiration for others.

Few people symbolize this truth more than Farinelli, widely considered to be one of the greatest opera singers of all time. Unless you are an opera buff, chances are you have not heard this name.

Who was Farinelli? Although he lived in a world very distant from the 21st century, he has lessons to teach us.

Destiny or Tragedy?

Farinelli was the stage name of Carlo Broschi. Born in the Kingdom of Naples in 1705, Carlo and his older brother Riccardo were singled out at an early age to be musicians. Carlo showed great promise as a singer. When economic hardship hit his minor noble family, Riccardo decided to have the boy castrated before puberty. An accident had to be invented to disguise the practice, since it was technically illegal. In Carlo’s case, he was said to have fallen from a horse. This way, Carlo would retain his high singing voice throughout his adult life and enable a successful vocal career.

"Portrait of Farinelli," by Bartolomeo Nazari, painted in 1734 when the singer was 29 years old. Public Domain

During the Italian Renaissance, castration was used as a way to extend the singing careers of boys in church choirs. With the rise of Italian opera in the 17th century, the ‘castrato’ became a phenomenon. For the next 200 years, nearly every composer of vocal music in the Baroque era wrote for that voice range. Peaking in the 18th century, the practice thankfully died out in the 19th, when musical fashions changed.

Beyond the pain and tragedy of castration, the young Farinelli’s unenviable music training would make any Suzuki student cringe. Upon rising in the morning, he sang scales for an hour, then read music for another hour. Then he had an hour of practicing singing exercises in front of a mirror to master his facial expressions. In the afternoon, he learned music theory, counterpoint, and read librettos before practicing more exercises to control his breathing, intonation, rhythm, and vocal embellishments. We are not told what was served for lunch and can plausibly assume there was no recess.

From Man to Myth

After about six years of this routine, he was ready for the limelight. In 1720, age 15, he made his operatic debut. He took the stage name Farinelli out of respect to his first patron, a wealthy lawyer from the Farina family. Within a few years, he began to acquire legendary status. But what exactly caused Europe to be spellbound by his voice?

Music historian Charles Burney left us an account of the precise moment when Farinelli transitioned from man to myth. At the age of 17, while performing in an opera in Rome, he began dueling with an accompanying trumpet player during a song. The “sportive” contest intensified when the audience began to take sides. “Each manifested the power of his lungs,” Burney wrote, “and tried to rival the other in brilliancy and force.” After the exhausted trumpeter gave up, Farinelli continued to sing “the most rapid and difficult” notes until the audience silenced him with thunderous applause.

When Farinelli arrived in London, Burney analyzed him firsthand. He identified the Italian’s most superior quality as his “mesa di voce,” or “swell,” in which a singer increases the volume of his voice while maintaining the same pitch. Burney attributed this ability to “the natural formation of his lungs” and “artificial economy of breath.” In other words, Farinelli’s peculiar combination of talent and training allowed him to surpass all other singers on the London stage, including those in the rival opera faction led by George Frideric Handel.

After dazzling Europe, Farinelli quit the public stage to serve King Philip V of Spain as a chamber musician. He was only 32. He served in this position for another 22 years before retiring for good in Bologna, Italy. He lived for another twenty or so years, dying in 1782.

King Philip V of Spain, painted by Joseph Vivien. It was said that for several years, Philip V had Farinelli sing songs to him daily. Public Domain

Farinelli in Art

Farinelli’s life has projected a mysterious fascination down through the centuries. Why did he stop giving public performances at the height of his vocal powers to serve the king of Spain? Had he grown weary of fame? Can his greatness really be boiled down to Burney’s analysis of the “mesa di voce?”

Artists and writers have striven to capture Farinelli’s mythic quality. He has been the subject of literary works in nearly every genre, as well as a wildly inaccurate 1994 film. The poet Abbot Carlo Frugoni, writing in the singer’s lifetime, penned this paean:

And you have heard, along the seashore, swans and sirens  Saying in wonder: Born is the beloved one, Born is the prodigy of the Italian stages.

Literature even continues to be written about Farinelli today. Recently, Brian Yapko won first place in the 2023 Society of Classical Poets International Competition for his dramatic monologue, “Farinelli.” In the 48-line poem, the singer reflects on his life as an old man in the form of a one-sided conversation he has with a visiting friend. In a brilliant metaphor, Farinelli invites the friend to:

Come sit beside the fire—the heat, the flash; The crackling sounds are music. Watch the flame Transform once-living branches into ash!

As the poem proceeds, we realize that the singer’s life is like this fire. Farinelli recalls his fame, now 40 years in the past, as he lives surrounded by vast but empty wealth. He recalls the method of his gruesome castration arranged by his brother, then how he was applauded on all the great stages of Europe. After basking in the reflective glory, Farinelli closes by wondering what might have been:

In secret, though, I ponder: might my voice Not still be splendid as a baritone? I’ll never know. He took away my choice. And like my life, my death shall be alone.

Since Farinelli left no memoir, we will never know what he really thought. But like a soliloquy in a Shakespeare tragedy, Mr. Yapko’s monologue reveals powerful truths about human nature. Looking beyond the sad theme, we can use this negative example as a way to inspire our own lives. Readers feel Farinelli’s solitude secondhand and realize that this is not a fulfilling way to live. In a just world, a person should be free to choose their own destiny.

Modern singers also pay homage to Farinelli as Baroque-era operas are again being staged. Today, the rare phenomenon of the male soprano, known as a “countertenor,” is either the result of a hormonal imbalance or rigorous training to sing in a higher register. Sometimes, women are cast in the castrato roles, as is the case with the recording “Farinelli—A Portrait.” Here, mezzo-soprano Ann Hallenberg teams up with the French musical ensemble Les Talens Lyriques to perform arias originally sung by Farinelli. The first two tracks were even written by his brother, Riccardo Broschi. They are a living example of pain and loneliness transformed into beauty.

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