Before Napoleon became First Consul, he had been on familiar terms
with Cherubini. The soldier and the composer were seated in the same
box listening to an opera by the latter. Napoleon, whose tastes for
music were for the suave and sensuous Italian style, turned to him and
said, "My dear Cherubini, you are certainly an excellent musician; but
really your music is so noisy and complicated that I can make nothing
of it;" to which Cherubini replied, "My dear general, you are
certainly an excellent soldier; but in regard to music you must excuse
me if I don't think it necessary to adapt my music to your
comprehension." This haughty reply was the beginning of an
estrangement. Another illustration of Cherubini's sturdy pride and
dignity was his rejoinder to Napoleon, when the latter was praising
the works of the Italian composers, and covertly sneering at his own.
"Citizen General," he replied, "occupy yourself with battles and
victories, and allow me to treat according to my talent an art of
which you are grossly ignorant." Even when Napoleon became Emperor,
the proud composer never learned "to crook the pregnant hinges of his
knee" to the man before whom Europe trembled.
On the 12th of December 1800, a grand performance of "The Creation"
took place at Paris. Napoleon on his way to it narrowly escaped being
killed by an infernal machine. Cherubini was one of the deputation,
representing the various corporations and societies of Paris, who
waited on the First Consul to congratulate him upon his escape.
Cherubini kept in the background, when the sarcasm, "I do not see
Monsieur Cherubini," pronounced in the French way, as if to indicate
that Cherubini was not worthy of being ranked with the Italian
composers, brought him promptly forward. "Well," said Napoleon, "the
French are in Italy." "Where would they not go," answered Cherubini,
"led by such a hero as you?" This pleased the First Consul, who,
however, soon got to the old musical quarrel. "I tell you I like
Paisiello's music immensely; it is soft and tranquil. You have much
talent, but there is too much accompaniment." Said Cherubini, "Citizen
Consul, I conform myself to French taste." "Your music," continued the
other, "makes too much noise. Speak to me in that of Paisiello; that
is what lulls me gently." "I understand," replied the composer; "you
like music which doesn't stop you from thinking of state affairs."
This witty rejoinder made the arrogant soldier frown, and the talk
suddenly ceased.
As a result of this alienation Cherubini found himself persistently
ignored and ill-treated by the First Consul. In spite of his having
produced such great masterpieces, his income was very small, apart
from his pay as Inspector of the Conservatory. The ill-will of the
ruler of France was a steady check to his preferment. When Napoleon
established his consular chapel in 1802, he invited Paisiello from
Naples to become director at a salary of 12,000 francs a year. It
gave great umbrage to the Conservatory that its famous teachers should
have been slighted for an Italian foreigner, and musical circles in
Paris were shaken by petty contentions. Paisiello, however, found the
public indifferent to his works, and soon wearied of a place where the
admiration to which he had been accustomed no longer flattered his
complacency. He resigned, and his position was offered to Méhul, who
is said to have declined it because he regarded Cherubini as far more
worthy of it, and to have accepted it only on condition that his
friend could share the duties and emoluments with him. Cherubini,
fretted and irritated by his condition, retired for a time from the
pursuit of his art, and devoted himself to flowers. The opera of
"Anacreon," a powerful but unequal work, which reflected the
disturbance and agitation of his mind, was the sole fruit of his
musical efforts for about four years.
While Cherubini was in the deepest depression--for he had a large
family depending on him and small means with which to support them--a
ray of sunshine came in 1805 in the shape of an invitation to compose
for the managers of the opera at Vienna. His advent at the Austrian
capital produced a profound sensation, and he received a right royal
welcome from the great musicians of Germany. The aged Haydn, Hummel,
and Beethoven became his warm friends with the generous freemasonry of
genius, for his rank as a musician was recognised throughout Europe.
The war which broke out after our musician's departure from Paris
between France and Austria ended shortly in the capitulation of Ulm,
and the French Emperor took up his residence at Schönbrunn. Napoleon
received Cherubini kindly when he came in answer to his summons, and
it was arranged that a series of twelve concerts should be given
alternately at Schönbrunn and Vienna. The pettiness which entered into
the French Emperor's nature in spite of his greatness continued to be
shown in his ebullitions of wrath because Cherubini persisted in
holding his own musical views against the imperial opinion. Napoleon,
however, on the eve of his return to France, urged him to accompany
him, offering the long-coveted position of musical director; but
Cherubini was under contract to remain a certain length of time at
Vienna, and he would not break his pledge.
The winter of 1805 witnessed two remarkable musical events at the
Austrian capital, the production of Beethoven's "Fidelio" and the last
great opera written by Cherubini, "Faniska." Haydn and Beethoven were
both present at the latter performance. The former embraced Cherubini
and said to him "You are my son, worthy of my love." Beethoven
cordially hailed him as "the first dramatic composer of the age." It
is an interesting fact that two such important dramatic compositions
should have been written at the same time, independently of each
other; that both works should have been in advance of their age; that
they should have displayed a striking similarity of style; and that
both should have suffered from the reproach of the music being too
learned for the public. The opera of "Faniska" is based on a Polish
legend of great dramatic beauty, which, however, was not very
artistically treated by the librettist. Mendelssohn in after years
noted the striking resemblance between Beethoven and our composer in
the conception and method of dramatic composition. In one of his
letters to Edouard Devrient he says, speaking of "Fidelio," "On
looking into the score, as well as on listening to the performance, I
everywhere perceive Cherubini's dramatic style of composition. It is
true that Beethoven did not ape that style, but it was before his mind
as his most cherished pattern." The unity of idea and musical colour
between "Faniska" and "Fidelio" seems to have been noted by many
critics both of contemporary and succeeding times.
Cherubini would gladly have written more for the Viennese, by whom he
had been so cordially treated; but the unsettled times and his
home-sickness for Paris conspired to take him back to the city of his
adoption. He exhausted many efforts to find Mozart's tomb in Vienna,
and desired to place a monument over his neglected remains, but failed
to locate the resting-place of one he loved so much. Haydn, Beethoven,
Hummel, Salieri, and the other leading composers reluctantly parted
with him, and on April 1, 1806, his return to Paris was celebrated by
a brilliant fête improvised for him at the Conservatory. Fate,
however, had not done with her persecutions, for fate in France took
the shape of Napoleon, whose hostility, easily aroused, was
implacable; who aspired to rule the arts and letters as he did armies
and state policy; who spared neither Cherubini nor Madame de Staël.
Cherubini was neglected and insulted by authority, while honours were
showered on Méhul, Grétry, Spontini, and Lesueur. He sank into a state
of profound depression, and it was even reported in Vienna that he was
dead. He forsook music and devoted himself to drawing and botany. Had
he not been a great musician, it is probable he would have excelled in
pictorial art. One day the great painter David entered the room where
he was working in crayon on a landscape of the Salvator Rosa style. So
pleased was the painter that he cried, "Truly admirable! Courage!" In
1808 Cherubini found complete rest in a visit to the country-seat of
the Prince de Chimay in Belgium, whither he was accompanied by his
friend and pupil, Auber.