The contest between Gluck and Piccini, or rather the cabals who
adopted the two musicians as their figure-heads, was brought to an end
by the death of the former. An attempt was made to set up Sacchini in
his place, but it proved unavailing, as the new composer proved to be
quite as much a follower of the prevailing Italian method as of the
new school of Gluck. The French revolution swept away Piccini's
property, and he retired to Italy. Bad fortune pursued him, however.
Queen Caroline of Naples conceived a dislike to him, and used her
influence to injure his career, out of a fit of wounded vanity.
"Do you not think I resemble my sister, Marie Antoinette?" queried the
somewhat ill-favoured queen. Piccini, embarrassed but truthful,
replied, "Your majesty, there may be a family likeness, but no
resemblance." A fatality attended him even to Venice. In 1792 he was
mobbed and his house burned, because the populace regarded him as a
republican, for he had a French son-in-law. Some partial musical
successes, however, consoled him, though they flattered his _amour
propre_ more than they benefited his purse. On his return to Naples he
was subjected to a species of imprisonment during four years, for
royal displeasure in those days did not confine itself merely to lack
of court favour. Reduced to great poverty, the composer who had been
the favourite of the rich and great for so many years knew often the
actual pangs of hunger, and eked out his subsistence by writing
conventual psalms, as payment for the broken food doled out by the
monks.
At last he was released, and the tenor, David, sent him funds to pay
his journey to Paris. Napoleon, the first consul, received him
cordially in the Luxembourg palace.
"Sit down," said he to Piccini, who remained standing, "a man of your
greatness stands in no one's presence." His reception in Paris was, in
fact, an ovation. The manager of the opera gave him a pension of
twenty-four hundred francs, a government pension was also accorded,
and he was appointed sixth inspector at the Conservatory. But the
benefits of this pale gleam of wintry sunshine did not long remain. He
died at Passy in the year 1800, and was followed to the grave by a
great throng of those who loved his beautiful music and admired his
gentle life.
In the present day Gluck appears to have vanquished Piccini, because
occasionally an opera of the former is performed, while Piccini's
works are only known to the musical antiquarian. But even the marble
temples of Gluck are moss-grown and neglected, and that great man is
known to the present day rather as one whose influence profoundly
coloured and changed the philosophy of opera, than through any
immediate acquaintance with his productions. The connoisseurs of the
eighteenth century found Piccini's melodies charming, but the works
that endure as masterpieces are not those which contain the greatest
number of beauties, but those of which the form is the most perfect.
Gluck had larger conceptions and more powerful genius than his Italian
rival, but the latter's sweet spring of melody gave him the highest
place which had so far been attained in the Italian operatic school.
"Piccini," says M. Genguèné, his biographer, "was under the middle
size, but well made, with considerable dignity of carriage. His
countenance was very agreeable. His mind was acute, enlarged, and
cultivated. Latin and Italian literature was familiar to him when he
went to France, and afterwards he became almost as well acquainted
with French literature. He spoke and wrote Italian with great purity,
but among his countrymen he preferred the Neapolitan dialect, which he
considered the most expressive, the most difficult, and the most
figurative of all languages. He used it principally in narration, with
a gaiety, a truth, and a pantomimic expression after the manner of his
country, which delighted all his friends, and made his stories
intelligible even to those who knew Italian but slightly."
As a musician Piccini was noticeable, according to the judgment of his
best critics, for the purity and simplicity of his style. He always
wished to preserve the supremacy of the voice, and, though he well
knew how to make his instrumentation rich and effective, he was a
resolute opponent to the florid and complex accompaniments which were
coming into vogue in his day. His recorded opinion on this subject may
have some interest for the musicians of the present day:--
"Were the employment which Nature herself assigns to the instruments
of an orchestra preserved to them, a variety of effects and a series
of infinitely diversified pictures would be produced. But they are all
thrown in at once and used incessantly, and they thus overpower and
indurate the ear, without presenting any picture to the mind, to which
the ear is the passage. I should be glad to know how they will arouse
it when it is accustomed to this uproar, which will soon happen, and
of what new witchcraft they will avail themselves.... It is well known
what occurs to palates blunted by the use of spirituous liquors. In a
few months everything may be learned which is necessary to produce
these exaggerated effects, but it requires much time and study to be
able to excite genuine emotion." Piccini followed strictly the canons
of the Italian school; and, though far inferior in really great
qualities to his rival Gluck, his compositions had in them so much of
fluent grace and beauty as to place him at the head of his
predecessors. Some curious critics have indeed gone so far as to
charge that many of the finest arias of Rossini, Donizetti, and
Bellini owe their paternity to this composer, an indictment not
uncommon in music, for most of the great composers have rifled the
sweets of their predecessors without scruple.