OPERA BUFFA, OPÉRA COMIQUE, AND SINGSPIEL
PERGOLESI--ROUSSEAU--MONSIGNY--GRÉTRY--
CIMAROSA--HILLER
While Gluck was altering the course of musical history in Vienna,
another revolution, less grand in scope and more gradually accomplished,
but scarcely less important in its results, was being effected in Italy.
This was the development of opera buffa, a form of art which was
destined, in Italy at any rate, to become a serious rival to the older
institution of opera seria, and, in the hands of Mozart, to produce
masterpieces such as the world had certainly not known before his day,
nor is ever likely to see surpassed. There is some uncertainty about the
actual origin of opera buffa. A musical comedy by Vergilio Mazzocchi and
Mario Marazzoli, entitled 'Chi sofre speri,' was produced in Florence
under the patronage of Cardinal Barberini as early as 1639. The poet
Milton was present at this performance, and refers to it in one of his
_Epistolae Familiares_. In 1657 a theatre was actually built in Florence
for the performance of musical comedies. For some reason, however, it
did not prove a success, and after a few years was compelled to close
its doors. After these first experiments there seems to have been no
attempt made to resuscitate opera buffa until the rise of the Neapolitan
school in the following century. The genesis of the southern branch of
opera buffa may with certainty be traced to the intermezzi, or musical
interludes, which were introduced into the course of operas and dramas,
probably with the object of relieving the mental strain induced by the
effort of following a long serious performance. The popularity of these
intermezzi throws a curious light upon the character of Italian
audiences at that time. We should think it strange if an audience
nowadays refused to sit through 'Hamlet' unless it were diversified by
occasional scenes from 'Box and Cox.' As time went on, the proportions
and general character of these intermezzi acquired greater importance,
but it was not until the eighteenth century was well advanced that one
of them was promoted to the rank of an independent opera, and, instead
of being performed in scraps between the acts of a tragedy, was given
for the first time as a separate work. This honour was accorded to
Pergolesi's 'La Serva Padrona,' in 1734, and the great success which it
met with everywhere soon caused numberless imitations to spring up, so
that in a few years opera buffa in Italy was launched upon a career of
triumph.
Founded as it was in avowed imitation of the tragedy of the Greeks,
opera had never deigned to touch modern life at any point. For a long
time the subjects of Italian operas were taken solely from classical
legend, and though in time librettists were compelled to have recourse
to the medieval romances, they never ventured out of an antiquity more
or less remote. Thus it is easy to conceive the delight of the
music-loving people of Naples when they found that the opera which they
adored could be enjoyed in combination with a mirthful and even farcical
story, interpreted by characters who might have stepped out of one of
their own market-places. But, apart from the freedom and variety of the
subjects with which it dealt, the development of opera buffa gave rise
to an art-form which is of the utmost importance to the history of
opera--the concerted finale. Nicolo Logroscino (1700-1763) seems to have
been the first composer who conceived the idea of working up the end of
an act to a musical climax by bringing all his characters together and
blending their voices into a musical texture of some elaboration.
Logroscino wrote only in the Neapolitan dialect, and his works had
little success beyond the limits of his own province; but his invention
was quickly adopted by all writers of opera buffa, and soon became an
important factor in the development of the art. Later composers
elaborated his idea by extending the finale to more than one movement,
and by varying the key-colour. Finally, but not until after many years,
it was introduced into opera seria, when it gave birth to the idea of
elaborate trios and quartets, which were afterwards to play so important
a part in its development. Logroscino's reputation was chiefly local,
but the works of Pergolesi (1710-1736) and Jomelli (1714-1774) made the
Neapolitan school famous throughout Europe. Both these composers are now
best known by their sacred works, but during their lives their operas
attained an extraordinary degree of popularity. Both succeeded equally
in comedy and tragedy, but Jomelli's operas are now forgotten, while
Pergolesi is known only by his delightful intermezzo 'La Serva Padrona,'
This diverting little piece tells of the schemes of the chambermaid,
Serpina, to win the hand of her master, Pandolfo. She is helped by
Scapin, the valet, who, disguised as a captain, makes violent love to
her, and piques the old gentleman into proposing, almost against his
will. 'La Serva Padrona' made the tour of Europe, and was received
everywhere with tumultuous applause. In Paris it was performed in 1750,
and may be said at once to have founded the school of French opéra
comique. Rousseau extolled its beauty as a protest against the arid
declamation of the school of Lulli, and it was the subject of one of the
bitterest dissensions ever known in the history of music. But the
'Guerre des Bouffons,' as the struggle was called, proved one thing,
which had already been satisfactorily decided in Italy, namely, that
there was plenty of room in the world for serious and comic opera at the
same time.
There had been a kind of opéra comique in France for many years, a
species of musical pantomime which was very popular at the fairs of St.
Laurent and St. Gervais. This form of entertainment scarcely came
within the province of art, but it served as a starting-point for the
history of opéra comique, which was afterwards so brilliant. The success
of the Italian company which performed the comic operas of Pergolesi,
Jomelli, and others, fired the French composers to emulation, and in
1753 the first French opéra comique, in the strict sense of the word,
'Le Devin du Village,' by the great Rousseau, was performed at the
Académie de Musique. Musically the work is feeble and characterless, but
the contrast which it offered to the stiff and serious works of the
tragic composers made it popular. Whatever its faults may be, it is
simple and natural, and its tender little melodies fell pleasantly upon
ears too well accustomed to the pomposities of Rameau and his school. At
first lovers of opéra comique in Paris had to subsist chiefly upon
translations from the Italian; but in 1755 'Ninette à la Cour,' a dainty
little work written by a Neapolitan composer, Duni, to a French
libretto, gained a great success. Soon afterwards, Monsigny, a composer
who may well be called the father of opéra comique, produced his first
work, and started upon a career of success which extended into the next
century.
The early days of opéra comique in Paris were distracted by the jealousy
existing between the French and Italian schools, but in 1762 peace was
made between the rival factions, and by process of fusion the two became
one. With the opening of the new Théâtre de l'Opéra Comique--the Salle
Favart, as it was then called--there began a new and brilliant period
for the history of French art. It is a significant fact, and one which
goes far to prove how closely the foundation of opéra comique was
connected with a revolt against the boredom of grand opera, that the
most successful composers in the new _genre_ were those who were
actually innocent of any musical training whatsoever. Monsigny
(1729-1817) is a particularly striking instance of natural genius
triumphing in spite of a defective education. Nothing can exceed the
thinness and poverty of his scores, or their lack of all real musical
interest; yet, by the sureness of his natural instinct for the stage, he
succeeded in writing music which still moves us as much by its brilliant
gaiety as by its tender pathos. 'Le Déserteur,' his most famous work, is
a touching little story of a soldier who deserts in a fit of jealousy,
and is condemned to be shot, but is saved by his sweetheart, who begs
his pardon from the king. Much of the music is almost childish in its
_naïveté_, but there is real pathos in the famous air 'Adieu, Louise,'
and some of the lighter scenes in the opera are touched off very
happily.
The musical education of Grétry (1741-1831) was perhaps more elaborate
than that of Monsigny, but it fell very far short of profundity. His
music excels in grace and humour, and he rarely treated serious subjects
with success. Such works as 'Le Tableau Parlant,' 'Les Deux Avares,' and
'L'Amant Jaloux' are models of lightness and brilliancy, whatever may be
thought of their musicianship. 'Richard Coeur de Lion' is the one
instance of Grétry having successfully attempted a loftier theme, and
it remains his masterpiece. The scene is laid at the castle of
Dürrenstein in Austria, where Richard lies imprisoned, and deals with
the efforts of his faithful minstrel Blondel to rescue him. In this work
Grétry adapted his style to his subject with wonderful versatility. Much
of the music is noble and dignified in style, and Blondel's air in
particular, 'O Richard, O mon roi,' has a masculine vigour which is
rarely found in the composer's work. But as a rule Grétry is happiest in
his delicate little pastorals and fantastic comedies, and, for all their
slightness, his works bear the test of revival better than those of many
of his more learned contemporaries. Philidor (1726-1797) was almost more
famous as a chess-player than as a composer. He had the advantage of a
sound musical education under Campra, one of the predecessors of Rameau,
and his music has far more solid qualities than that of Grétry or
Monsigny. His treatment of the orchestra, too, was more scientific than
that of his contemporaries, but he had little gift of melody, and he was
deficient in dramatic instinct. He often visited England, and ended by
dying in London. One of the best of his works, 'Tom Jones,' was written
upon an English subject. Philidor was popular in his day, but his works
have rarely been heard by the present generation.
With Grétry the first period of opéra comique may be said to close;
indeed, the taste of French audiences had begun to change some years
before the close of the eighteenth century. The mighty wave of the
Revolution swept away the idle gallantries of the sham pastoral, while
Ossian newly discovered and Shakespeare newly translated opened the eyes
of cultivated Frenchmen to the possibilities of poetry and romance. At
the same time, the works of Haydn and Mozart, which had already crossed
the frontier, disturbed preconceived notions about the limits of
orchestral colouring, and made the thin little scores of Grétry and his
contemporaries seem doubly jejune. The change in public taste was
gradual, but none the less certain. The opening years of the nineteenth
century saw a singular evolution, if not revolution, in the history of
opéra comique.
Meanwhile opera in Italy was pursuing its triumphant course. The
introduction of the finale brought the two great divisions of opera into
closer connection, and most of the great composers of this period
succeeded as well in opera buffa as in opera seria. The impetus given to
the progress of the art by the brilliant Neapolitan school was ably
sustained by such composers as Nicolo Piccinni (1728-1800), a composer
who is now known principally to fame as the unsuccessful rival brought
forward by the Italian party in Paris in the year 1776 in the vain hope
of crushing Gluck. Piccinni sinks into insignificance by the side of
Gluck, but he was nevertheless an able composer, and certainly the
leading representative of the Italian school at the time. He did much to
develop the concerted finale, which before his day had been used with
caution, not to say timidity, and was so constant in his devotion to
the loftiest ideal of art that he died in poverty and starvation.
Cimarosa (1749-1801) is the brightest name of the next generation. He
shone particularly in comedy. His 'Gli Orazi e Curiazi,' which moved his
contemporaries to tears, is now forgotten, but 'Il Matrimonio Segreto'
still delights us with its racy humour and delicate melody. The story is
simplicity itself, but the situations are amusing in themselves, and are
led up to with no little adroitness, Paolino, a young lawyer, has
secretly married Carolina, the daughter of Geronimo, a rich and
avaricious merchant. In order to smooth away the difficulties which must
arise when the inevitable discovery of the marriage takes place, he
tries to secure a rich friend of his own, Count Robinson, for Geronimo's
other daughter, Elisetta. Unfortunately Robinson prefers Carolina, and
proposes himself as son-in-law to Geronimo, who is of course delighted
that his daughter should have secured so unexceptionable a _parti_,
while the horrified Paolino discovers to his great dissatisfaction that
the elderly Fidalma, Geronimo's sister, has cast languishing eyes upon
himself. There is nothing for the young couple but flight, but
unfortunately as they are making their escape they are discovered, and
their secret is soon extorted. Geronimo's wrath is tremendous, but in
the end matters are satisfactorily arranged, and the amiable Robinson
after all expresses himself content with the charms of Elisetta. 'Il
Matrimonio Segreto' was produced at Vienna in 1792, and proved so very
much to the taste of the Emperor Leopold, who was present at the
performance, that he gave all the singers and musicians a magnificent
supper, and then insisted upon their performing the opera again from
beginning to end. Cimarosa was a prolific writer, the number of his
operas reaching the formidable total of seventy-six; but, save for 'Il
Matrimonio Segreto,' they have all been consigned to oblivion. Although
he was born only seven years before Mozart, and actually survived him
for ten years, he belongs entirely to the earlier school of opera buffa.
His talent is thoroughly Italian, untouched by German influence, and he
excels in portraying the gay superficiality of the Italian character
without attempting to dive far below the surface.
Even more prolific than Cimarosa was Paisiello (1741-1815), a composer
whose works, though immensely popular in their day, did not possess
individuality enough to defy the ravages of time. Paisiello deserves to
be remembered as the first man to write an opera on the tale of 'Il
Barbiere di Siviglia.' This work, though coldly received when it was
first performed, ended by establishing so firm a hold upon the
affections of the Italian public, that when Rossini tried to produce his
opera on the same subject, the Romans refused to give it a hearing.
Paer (1771-1839) belongs chronologically to the next generation, but
musically he has more in common with Paisiello than with Rossini. His
principal claim to immortality rests upon the fact that a performance
of his opera 'Eleonora' inspired Beethoven with the idea of writing
'Fidelio'; but although his serious efforts are comparatively worthless,
many of his comic operas are exceedingly bright and attractive. 'Le
Maître de Chapelle,' which was written to a French libretto, is still
performed with tolerable frequency in Paris.
It is hardly likely that the whirligig of time will ever bring Paisiello
and his contemporaries into popularity again in England, but in Italy
there has been of late years a remarkable revival of interest in the
works of the eighteenth century. Some years ago the Argentina Theatre in
Rome devoted its winter season almost entirely to reproductions of the
works of this school. Many of these old-world little operas, whose very
names had been forgotten, were received most cordially, some of
them--Paisiello's 'Scuffiara raggiratrice,' for instance--with genuine
enthusiasm.
Wars and rumours of wars stunted musical development of all kinds in
Germany during the earlier years of the eighteenth century. After the
death of Keiser in 1739, the glory departed from Hamburg, and opera
seems to have lain under a cloud until the advent of Johann Adam Hiller
(1728-1804), the inventor of the Singspiel. Miller's Singspiele were
vaudevilles of a simple and humorous description interspersed with
music, occasionally concerted numbers of a very simple description, but
more often songs derived directly from the traditions of the German
Lied. These operettas were very popular, as the frequent editions of
them which were called for, prove. Yet, in spite of their success, it
was felt by many of the composers who imitated him that the combination
of dialogue and music was inartistic, and Johann Friedrich Reichardt
(1752-1814) attempted to solve the difficulty by relegating the music to
a merely incidental position and conducting all the action of the piece
by means of the dialogue. Nevertheless the older form of the Singspiel
retained its popularity, and, although founded upon incorrect æsthetic
principles--for no art, however ingenious, can fuse the convention of
speech and the convention of song into an harmonious whole--was the
means in later times of giving to the world, in 'Die Zauberflöte' and
'Fidelio,' nobler music than had yet been consecrated to the service of
the stage.