Rossini, that he might not incur the reproach of a daring vanity with
the immortal author who has preceded him, has expressly required that
the _Barber of Seville_ be entirely versified anew, and that there shall
be added several new situations, demanded, moreover, by the modern
theatrical taste which has changed so much since the renowned Paisiello
wrote his music.
[Illustration: Caricature of Rossini by Carjat reproduced from a print at
the Paris Opera.]
"Some other differences between the contexture of the present drama
and that of the French comedy above mentioned, have been required by
the necessity of introducing choruses, partly to conform to modern
customs, partly because they are indispensable in a theatre of such vast
proportions. The courteous public is informed of this fact in order
that it may excuse the author of the present drama, who, except for the
concurrence of circumstances so imperative, would not have dared to
introduce the slightest change in the French work consecrated by the
applause of all Europe."
All these precautions and the artistic uprightness which Rossini
exhibited in this delicate matter, could not avail to still the storm
which hurled itself about him. No matter what he might have done to
appease them, the Romans were exasperated in advance against his work and
against himself, and the first performance of _il Barbiere_, outrageously
hissed, was the most complete scandal of which the annals of the theatre
can offer example. An account of it has been given by one of the Italian
biographers of the master, Zanolini, from whom I borrow the following
details: "The Romans went to the theatre, persuaded that they were going
to hear detestable music, and disposed to punish an ignorant upstart.
The overture was executed in the midst of a confused hub-bub, the
precursor of the tempest. Garcia attempted to accompany with his guitar
the first air of the count Almaviva; all the strings broke at once, and
then commenced the laughs, jeers and hisses. A little while after, Don
Basilio, an old singer of the Sistine chapel, stumbled, on entering the
stage, and fell and bumped his nose. This was enough; laughs and hisses
burst from all sides, and people would not and could not listen any
longer. One person applauded, one only, and that was the composer; and
the more he clapped, the louder grew the hisses, until, when the fury of
the crowd had reached its climax, he mounted upon his chair, so that he
might be seen by all, and with head, hands and voice testified to the
actors his approbation. He remained intrepid until the orchestra had all
left, waiting to receive the very last insult. He was to be present at
the second performance, but he found some pretext for being excused, and
the directors were delighted, because they feared him at the same time
that they had confidence in his music. During the second evening, Rossini
was conversing at his home with some friends, when cries were heard in
the street in front of the house and the lights of many torches were seen
through the window. When they distinguished among the cries the name of
Rossini, his guests were alarmed but afterwards, the voices of friends
having been recognized, the doors were all opened wide to the messengers
sent by the spectators assembled at the Argentina, and who, carried away
by their enthusiasm were clamoring for the maestro to show himself.
Rossini was carried thither in triumph, and was covered with applause."
So we see that this happy _Barbiere_ which for eighty years has been the
delight of the whole world, was badly enough received on its entrance
into that world.
[Illustration: GIOACCHINO ROSSINI.
Reproduction of a lithograph by A. de Bayalos, made from a portrait by
Dupré. Rossini in middle life. Portraits in spandrel are,
Grisi.
Rubini.
Tamburini.
Pasta.
Curioni.
Garcia Viardot.
Mario.
Lablache.
]
Meanwhile, when the bad humor of the Romans was fairly over, and the
_Barber_ established in public favor, Rossini prepared to go to Naples
in response to a call from Barbaja. Immediately on his return he set to
work, giving first to the Fiorentini theatre a little work entitled _la
Gazzetta_, then writing for the San Carlo his _Otello_, which achieved a
considerable success and was played by the great artists Nozzari, David,
Garcia, Benedetti and Colbran. He afterwards returned to Rome where
he gave that gem of comic verve, _la Cenerentola_, then went to Milan
where he wrote for the Scala, _la Gazza ladra_, a work little remembered
to-day. He then went back to Naples to give _Armida_, and again returned
to Rome where he brought out _Adelaide di Borgogna_, which met with very
meagre success. But he soon made up for this failure by giving at Naples
_Moses in Egypt_, one of his best works, which was followed by _Ricciardo
e Zoraide_ and _Hermione_, the libretto of which was taken from Racine's
_Andromaque_. At the same time he sent to Lisbon the score of a little
comic work which was requested of him by the royal theatre of that city;
_Adina, o il Califfo di Bagdad_, on the subject of a French comic opera
by Boieldieu, bearing the same title. After having given at Venice
_Edoardo e Cristina_ he again won great success at Naples with _la Donna
del Lago_, a work full of poetry and originality.
It was at this point that Rossini had reached the fulness of his glory.
Scarcely twenty-seven years of age, he had already written twenty-nine
operas, several of which had achieved a brilliant success, and his name,
popular throughout Italy, was famous in all Europe, which applauded his
works with frenzy. And yet, the success of _la Donna del Lago_ could
not sustain a mediocre work like _Bianca e Falerio_, which was coldly
received at the Scala, Milan. But the master regained public favor with
his _Maometto II._ which was received with enthusiasm at Naples. He went
to Rome shortly after to give _Matilde di Shabran_, one of the feeblest
of his works, and then rose to the top again with _Zelmira_, which was
very successful, not only at Naples, but at Vienna where Rossini was
invited to direct the performance of the opera, accompanied by Colbran,
then his wife, who sung the leading part. Finally, he wrote and brought
out at Venice, _Semiramide_, one of the most remarkable of his works,
in spite of its faults. Rossini counted much, and with reason, on
this score which the Venetians received with a cold reserve. Neither
the richness of the inspiration, nor the variety of the forms, nor the
grandeur of the style which distinguished this noble and superb work,
could overcome the indifference of the public. After a reception so
unjust, a result so contrary to his legitimate hopes, Rossini, who at
that moment was solicited on all sides, did not hesitate to leave Italy.
An engagement was offered him in England; he accepted it immediately and
went to London, passing through Paris where he formed relations which
were soon to bring him back to that city.
Rossini was to write for the Italian theatre at London an opera entitled
_la Figlia dell'aria_; he had composed the first act, when the direction
of the theatre failed, and the project was abandoned. However, his trip
to England was far from being unfruitful of results. Sought after by the
highest society, encouraged in every way, received at court, Rossini,
during his five months stay at London where he excited the liveliest
enthusiasm, was able to realize from the concerts and lessons which he
gave with his wife, about 200,000 francs, which was the basis of his
future fortune. At the same time, through the intervention of the French
ambassador in England, he signed an engagement with the minister of the
royal house, by which he accepted the direction of the Théâtre-Italien
of Paris at a salary of 20,000 francs per year, without prejudice to
the author's rights in the works which he might wish to write for that
theatre or for the Opéra.
Rossini found in France the same enthusiastic welcome which had been
given him in England. He composed first a little Italian opera called
_il Viaggio a Reims_, which was performed on the occasion of the fêtes
given in that city for the coronation of King Charles X. He next occupied
himself with transforming for the French stage two of his best Italian
works, _Maometto II._ which became at the Opéra _le Siège de Corinthe_,
and _Mosé in Egitto_, which was performed at that theatre under the title
of _Moïse_. In passing from one tongue to the other, these two works were
subject to much remodelling from the hand of the composer. He changed
parts of them, added to them, strove to render the declamation more
clear and precise, finally forced himself to adapt his inspiration to
the necessities of the French stage and of the musical genius of that
country. Success crowned his efforts, and in the face of that success,
Rossini dreamed of writing a great new work expressly for the Opéra. But
first he brought out at that theatre a pretty little opera in two acts,
_le Comte Ory_, which was received with great applause, and in which he
had embodied some fragments of the _Viaggio a Reims_.
[Illustration: ROSSINI ON HIS DEATH BED.
Reproduction of Gustave Doré's celebrated picture, from photograph at the
Paris Opera.]
At last came the great work which the public were awaiting with
impatience, _William Tell_, which was performed Aug. 3, 1829, with
Nourrit, Dabadie, Levasseur, Prévost, Mmes. Cinti-Damoreau, Mori
and Dabadie for the principal interpreters. In writing the score of
_William Tell_, Rossini had applied his genius to the exigencies of the
French stage, as Gluck had done fifty years before. He had given to
his declamation a breadth hitherto unknown, to his instrumentation a
superb color and _éclat_, while the dramatic action had acquired with
him a marvellous power, and the wealth and freshness of his inspiration
surpassed all that could be desired. It cannot be denied that the
appearance of _William Tell_ is a luminous date in the history of music
in France, that the success of this masterpiece has never diminished, and
that after more than sixty years it is still as touching, as pathetic, as
grand, as much respected as in the first days of its existence.
How comes it then that after so complete, so brilliant, so incontestable
a triumph, Rossini should have renounced the theatre forever, that he
should never have wished to repeat so happy an attempt? That is a mystery
which as yet it has been impossible to solve, and it is certainly a
great misfortune for the art, which has thereby been deprived of untold
masterpieces. But the fact remains that from the 3rd of August, 1829,
date of the first performance of _William Tell_ until the 13th of
November, 1868, date of the master's death, Rossini wrote nothing more
for the stage. This does not mean that he stopped composing; far from
it. His compositions on the contrary are numerous, and some of them
very important, but none are for the theatre. First should be mentioned
his religious music: a _Stabat Mater_, a _Petite Messe solennelle_,
and a _Tantum ergo_; then three choruses for female voices, _la Foi_,
_l'Espèrance_, _la Charitè_; _le Chant des Titans_ for four bass
voices; _Soirées musicales_, comprising eight ariettes and four duets;
and finally a great number of songs and piano pieces. Earlier, and in
the course of his Italian career, Rossini had written, for different
occasions, a number of cantatas and lyric scenes, the titles of which
are: _il Pianto d'Armonia per la morte d'Orfeo_; _Didone abbandonata_;
_Egle ed Irene_; _Teti e Peleo_; _Igea_; _Ad onore di S. M. il re de
Napoli_; _Ad onore di S. M. l'emperatore d'Austria_; _la Riconoscenza_;
_il Vero Omaggio_; _i Pastori_; etc.
[Illustration: ROSSINI'S CLAY PIPE BEARING HIS AUTOGRAPH.
Now in the library of the Paris Conservatory. Sketched by special
permission.]
[Illustration: Fac-simile autograph musical manuscript written by
Rossini.]
Rossini, whom Weber did not understand, and whom Beethoven did not wish
to know, belongs nevertheless to the race of those grand creators, and
in his veins coursed the blood of a man of genius. At the period of
his birth three great musicians represented principally that beautiful
Italian school so justly celebrated in the last century in spite of its
characteristic defects. These three great musicians were Guglielmi,
Cimarosa and Paisiello; Guglielmi, forgotten to-day even in his own
country, and whom artists themselves no longer know; Cimarosa, the verve
and gaiety of whose genius seemed to reserve him to a less tragic end;
finally Paisiello, whom Rossini was called to down with his own weapons,
in successfully making after him another _il Barbiere di Siviglia_, and
whose glory was to be somewhat obscured by the glory of his brilliant
rival. As for the others, Niccolini, Sarti, Portogallo, Gazzaniga,
Nasolini, etc., they were undoubtedly artists of real talent, but devoid
of originality and who confined themselves to following in the path which
these great leaders traced out for them.
Some years later, and after a sort of interregnum, three more great
artists were coming to fill the vacant place, and to govern in their
turn the Italian musical world. Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti--three
geniuses quite distinct from each other, not only from the standpoint
of the nature of their personal inspiration, but also as regards the
form with which they clothe their ideas, were coming to throw a new
lustre, unhappily the last, over that Italian school so glorious for two
centuries, and of which the author of _Rigoletto_ and _Aïda_ remains
to-day the venerable and last representative. Rossini, a brilliant
and luminous genius, Bellini, of a pensive, poetic and tender nature,
Donizetti, nervous and expansive in temperament, all were called to take
place in the first rank, with this distinction, that the first always
preserved an evident advantage, and that he alone brought into the art a
new and characteristic note.
And yet for years past Rossini has been spoken of slightingly, his genius
has not been understood, his worth has been denied and these wrongs
are carried on at the present hour. Certain adepts of a new school,
who affect to disparage all that was done before them, are ready to
drag him to the gibbet without even giving him credit for what they owe
him,--directly or indirectly. They do not seem to have the least idea
that it is Rossini who has emancipated musical art as applied to the
theatre; that it is Rossini who has given freedom to melodic form; that
it is Rossini who has substituted for the majestic and uniform solemnity
of the ancient lyric declamation, a rational diction, with an expression
more vivacious, more intense and more vigorous; that it is Rossini who,
by the movement and variety communicated to the rhythm, has given to the
musical phrase the natural sentiment and warmth of action which it too
often lacked; that it is Rossini to whom we owe the richness and the
splendors of the modern dramatic orchestra. Who knows if that admirable
orchestra of Wagner, to which unhappily everything is sacrificed, would
exist to-day had it not been for Rossini? Whatever may be his faults--and
assuredly he has them--we can afford to pardon them all in consideration
of the incomparable qualities of this great man.
During nearly half a century Rossini has reigned supreme on all the
stages of the world. Wherever there existed an Italian theatre, there
were played and sung the works of Rossini: _Otello_, _Semiramide_,
_Mosé_, _il Barbiere_, _la Gazza ladra_, _Cenerentola_, _l'Italiana
in Algeri_, _la Donna del Lago_, _Maometto_. If all his serious works
are not complete and perfect, at least all of them contain superb
parts. Witness _Mosé_, what grandeur, what power and what majesty!
Witness _Otello_, what spirit, what vigor and what boldness! Witness
_Semiramide_, what color, what brilliancy and what splendor! However,
there are grave faults to be found with Rossini's serious operas; in the
first place a lack of unity, and also certain weaknesses which by their
proximity, militate against some really admirable pages; then the abuse
of vocalization and of the ornate style, absolutely incompatible with the
purely dramatic element; finally, the occasional lack of real emotion and
the frequent absence of pathos, an absence so complete that it may justly
be said of Rossini that he never knew how to sing of love. And yet, by
the side of these grave faults are qualities so grand, an inspiration so
rich, a style so noble, a phrase so elegant, an orchestra so vigorous
and always so full of interest, that the works though imperfect in their
_ensemble_, have been able through certain sublime portions to win very
great success.
But the place where Rossini is complete and inimitable is in opera
bouffe. _Il Barbiere_ is certainly a masterpiece, and _Cenerentola_
comes very near being one. A wonderful imagination, gaiety carried
sometimes to the point of folly, an ardor and quickness of inspiration
that was simply prodigious, together with an instrumentation always new,
always piquant, always of an extreme elegance; such are the qualities
which characterized Rossini's light music, and which make it still as
young and fresh as when it first appeared, eighty years ago.
[Illustration: ROSSINI.
Caricature bust by Dantan in the Carnavalet Museum. Paris.]
In regard to his dramatic music, I must not forget, after having pointed
out its shortcomings, to make an important statement, giving him credit
for the progress which is unquestionably due him. I refer to the
transformation which he has brought about in the recitative, beginning
with his _Elisabetta_. Until then he had not risen above _Tancredi_, a
charming score, but one in which his methods scarcely differed from those
employed by the musicians of his time, Mayr, Generali, Paër and others.
Undoubtedly his harmony was fuller, his instrumentation richer, more
varied and more brilliant than that of these artists, but the progress
stopped there. With _Elisabetta_, his first work given at Naples, Rossini
started an important reform. Up to that time the Italian composers had
employed almost exclusively the _recitativo secco_, that is to say,
a recitative accompanied solely by the clavichord, with a continuous
bass by the violoncello in the orchestra. Now these thin and meagre
recitatives, often much developed, weakened the scenic effect, killed
all musical interest, and formed too violent a contrast with the general
style of the work. It was only in exceptional cases that the composers
allowed themselves some measures of _recitativo strumentato_, to serve as
an introduction to an important piece.
Rossini, in his _Elisabetta_, was the first to treat all the recitative
part as a grand lyric declamation, and to sustain that precise, vigorous,
very rhythmic declamation with a melodic accompaniment, arranged for the
full orchestra. Thanks to this means, the scenic action was considerably
developed, the musical interest was sustained from beginning to end,
without break or sign of weakness, the work gained a homogeneity and
a general color hitherto unknown; finally, the composer experienced
the advantage of being able to bind together, as strongly as need be,
incidents, situations, episodes which otherwise would have been chilled
by the untimely presence of those _recitativi secchi_, the crying evil of
the serious operas. Certainly this is a trait of genius, which classes
Rossini in the rank of the happiest of innovators.
When, fifteen years after having given his _Elisabetta_ at Naples, he
wrote _William Tell_ for the Paris Opéra, people were able to judge
of the incomparable grandeur of his dramatic genius. Here were no
concessions to a perverted taste, no ill-timed vocal effects, no weakness
of style, no negligence in the form; but a grand inspiration, a bold and
noble accent, heroic outbursts, a color marvellously appropriate to the
subject, and above all the sincerity of an artist of genius desiring to
create a masterpiece.
A study of Rossini would be incomplete, which did not consider the
influence which that great man exercised over the artists of his time.
It is with some reflections on this subject that I am going to close the
present work.
[Illustration: ROSSINI.
Caricature from Paris "Panthéon Charivarique" designed to express popular
disapproval at his retirement from the Opera to live upon his means.]
An abundance of melody, precision of rhythm, richness of instrumentation,
untiring verve, movement, color and life, such are the distinctive signs
of Rossini's musical personality. Moreover, this personality was so
powerful, so exuberant, so magnetic, that it not only effaced that of his
contemporaries, who were unable to struggle against this colossus, but it
soon absorbed that of all the young composers who were coming after him,
and who, gifted by nature with less generosity, were appropriating his
methods, as far as possible, and making themselves his servile imitators.
With the exception of Bellini and Donizetti, whose natural temperament
and personal gifts were safeguards against this rage of imitation,
one may say that for half a century all the Italian composers applied
themselves to writing music _a la Rossini_, and seemed preoccupied solely
with reproducing effects and combinations originated by the young master.
Pacini, for example, wrote eighty operas in the Rossinian style, not one
of which was worthy to pass down to posterity; and the Ricci brothers,
though more gifted than Pacini as regards a freshness of inspiration,
also imitated Rossini too closely, and allowed some little of their own
personality to appear only in the pleasant, merry score of _Crispino e la
Comare_, their one work which has gained recognition outside of Italy.
Furthermore, these Italian imitators of Rossini, not knowing how to
separate the tares from the wheat, followed exactly in his footsteps, and
reproduced his faults as conscientiously as his virtues, mistaking noise
for sonority, sadly abusing the flowery style, even in the most pathetic
moments, to the great detriment of dramatic truth (Mercadante himself
has not escaped this fault), and unhappily not having, like their model,
that wonderful gift of melody for which certain of his faults could be
pardoned, and which constituted a good part of his power.
The flagrant imitation of Rossinian forms by the fellow-artists of
the master clearly indicated their inferiority, at the same time that
it demonstrated his absorbing influence. In France also where the
Théâtre-Italien, brilliant with its splendid array of illustrious
singers, had early made known the most important of Rossini's works, this
influence made itself felt to a considerable extent, but less completely,
and with more discernment, our musicians merely drawing profit from the
progress made by the author of _il Barbiere_ and _Semiramide_, without
permitting themselves to abandon in his favor their own personality.
It was easy to recognize the trace of this influence in certain of
Boieldieu's scores, in Auber's manner, nay, even in that of Herold, an
artist of strong and eclectic temperament, whose own originality never
failed him for an instant, while accepting up to a certain point a
reflection from Weber on the one hand, on the other Rossini, whom he had
been able to study for a long time in his own country. But the French
musicians had as a safeguard against servility to the latter artist,
that innate sentiment of dramatic truth which formed part of the genius
of their country and which did not permit them to sacrifice anything
to the exact expression of that truth. Besides, the great artists of
whom I speak here had a personal worth which put them quite beyond the
thought of slavery or of too great submission to any artist whatever.
Nevertheless, I repeat that Rossini's influence over the French artists
was very considerable, and I add that it was happy and beneficial because
it was limited to making them profit by methods and discoveries, the use
of which, joined to their natural gifts and qualifications, could only
enrich the latter and increase the domain of art.
[Illustration: MARBLE MEDALLION OF ROSSINI, BY H. CHEVALIER.
Made by order of the Minister of Fine Arts for the Foyer of the Paris
Opera House. Exhibited at the Paris Salon of 1865.]