cheerful, agreeably stimulating artistic enjoyment, there is in Cherubini
an element of severity, an aristocratic elegance of expression, which
often border on coldness. Strains such as enchant the multitude are of
infrequent occurrence in his music. It is, therefore, not to be wondered
at that the multitude kept itself aloof from him. Only one of all his
operas, "Les Deux Journées," now known in Germany under the name of
"Der Wasserträger" (The Water Carrier), was able to attain a lasting
popularity. For a variety of reasons, also, his sacred compositions
have failed to become widely known. The masses and requiems are, first
of all, too grand and earnest, too difficult and full of meaning, to
adapt themselves to the vapid style of Catholic Church music, and, when
performed in the concert room, they do not often produce their full
effect. Nor is the three-part writing, which Cherubini has repeatedly
employed with reference to the needs of the French church choirs,
at all suited to the requirements of our choral societies. It is,
unfortunately, too often the case that trifling obstacles of a similar
character interfere with a proper appreciation of the finest productions
of genius. The fact that the name of Cherubini does not stand inscribed
in the temple of fame with those of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven must be
attributed in some degree to unfamiliarity with his works on the part
of the public, but is still further owing to the peculiarity of the
artist's musical nature, and to the remarkable place which he has created
for himself in and beyond the musical life of the nations. To estimate
him at his full value should be the distinctive office of the German
people; and it is indeed true that, while he is everywhere spoken of with
respect, there exists to-day, in the select circle of German musicians
and musical critics, as little doubt as existed five-and-twenty years ago
that a place should be accorded to Cherubini among the greatest composers
whom the world has known. He mastered musical forms and resources to
an extent that has been rarely equalled. In the severe contrapuntal
style of composition, which has gone more and more out of fashion since
Beethoven, he surpassed all his contemporaries, whatever might be
their relations to him in other respects. With the single exception of
Sebastian Bach, no composer has ever employed the contrapuntal forms so
freely, intelligently, and profoundly as Cherubini; while as regards
harmony and transparent clearness, he stands even before Bach in the most
complicated of his works. A thorough mastery of counterpoint is of more
especial importance in vocal church music, although dramatic composition
also affords it sufficient opportunity, and it can nowhere be entirely
dispensed with. In addition to his skill in this direction, Cherubini had
complete control over the technique and the forms of modern instrumental
music, a domain from which his French and Italian contemporaries were
excluded, he having followed in Haydn's footsteps; and in artistic
elaboration of motives, and in masterly handling of orchestra and string
quartet, he scarcely yields the palm to his German master. But it is,
first of all, in works formed by an agreeable combination of vocal and
instrumental music that his diversified talents found their centre of
activity. In respect to the association of vocal music in one or more
parts with the play of the instruments, Cherubini's operas, cantatas, and
church compositions are masterpieces of the highest order, and entirely
worthy to stand by the side of similar works by Haydn and Mozart.
A highly developed sense of form and unusual mastery of artistic methods
would certainly not suffice of themselves to place Cherubini in the
front rank of composers, if he had not been able at the same time to
impress the stamp of individual genius upon his manifold productions. He
has sometimes been called an eclectic, and always, of course, with the
implication that he was less original, and less fertile in invention,
than the great German masters of his time. This estimate of him would
seem, however, to confound the strength of the musician's creative power
with its quality. No artist can do more than develop to a higher degree
what he finds already existent. For this purpose, he fills his mind
with a greater or lesser number of artistic thoughts, and transforms
them into the elements of his own creations. The fulness and variety of
these formative elements will generally be in proportion to the power of
the composer. It can truly be said of Sebastian Bach that not a single
species of art was known in his time which he did not make use of for
his own purposes. Whatever Handel and Mozart could draw from Italian
music for the realization of their artistic ideals they unhesitatingly
appropriated, employing it partly as the foundation of their productions,
partly as supplementary material. In all such instances, the point to be
considered is whether the strength of the artist is sufficient to vivify
and renew the foreign elements. That this was the case with Cherubini,
I have already remarked. His style of musical expression is a thoroughly
characteristic one, entirely different from that of other composers; its
cold and reserved elegance not being due to the eclectic character of
his cultivation, but to the idiosyncrasy of his artistic nature. Granted
that the mission of art is to animate and cheer, and that this is not
accomplished through the medium of reflection, but by the direct, artless
outpouring of the artist's thoughts, it must none the less be permitted
to the artist to sacrifice the immediately transporting effect of his
music in favor of profoundness, and the unusual order of charm intended
to be conveyed. Those compositions of Cherubini which fail to electrify
at the first hearing attract us when we have studied them, through their
grandeur of outline, the deep earnestness which pervades them, their
artistic finish, and the exceptional brilliancy of particular passages.
Of course there are included among his works, as is the case with all
artists, some unimportant productions in which certain peculiarities of
his nature are too plainly revealed. Such are especially to be found
among the compositions of his latest years, and the last three of his
string quartets can afford unmixed pleasure to no one. But whoever wishes
to form a just judgment of Cherubini should turn to the rich array of
great works belonging to his most productive period, in which one cannot
fail to perceive a harmonious blending of the universally intelligible
with a pure and characteristically peculiar beauty which appeals to every
appreciative listener.
[Illustration: CHERUBINI.
From a bust by Dantan in the Carnavalet Museum, Paris.]
Cherubini is not included among the composers whose originality is
clearly shown in their earliest productions, and who are much more
commonly found among the Germans than the Italians, since the latter
write with great rapidity and spontaneity, making free use of resources
already proved to be effective. The works belonging to his Italian
period are after the manner of that day, and many things in his operas
remind one especially of Piccini. With Cherubini, however, the execution
is always more careful, the melody more noble and earnest, so that the
careful observer finds in his compositions sufficient indication of
an independent mind to understand why it was that from the beginning
the Italian public was more startled than pleased with his music. The
transition to a new style was not gradual, but sudden and surprising; in
this respect he reminds one very strikingly of his younger compatriot,
Spontini, in whose opera, "La Vestale," is seen an equally violent
change of manner. The year 1786 marks the turning-point in the case of
Cherubini, and the transitional work was a cantata called "Amphion."
It was in this year that the musician made his first acquaintance with
Haydn's symphonies, and the effect they produced upon him must have
been positively electrifying. The orchestral treatment in "Amphion,"
the solo accompaniments, the interweaving of the instrumental playing
with the chorus singing, everything in the whole work wears an aspect
so entirely new that one may say, here the real Cherubini steps forward
a finished artist. This will become evident to all from the fact that
the _allegro_ of the overture to "Anacréon," that enchanting and truly
incomparable production of Cherubini's pen, is essentially composed of
the orchestral introduction to "Amphion." The cantata was intended for
the _Loge Olympique_, but was never performed either there or elsewhere.
The composer therefore thought he must employ some portions of it for the
opera referred to, which appeared seventeen years later. "Iphigenia in
Aulis," belonging to the year 1788, shows us the new style transferred to
the domain of the _opera seria_. This work, which has no equal among all
Italian operas, had the good fortune to meet the approval of Cherubini's
countrymen, who were able to take no pleasure in the music of Mozart.
While in the form of the different pieces, the nature of the cadenzas,
and certain other firmly established mediums of expression, the opera
proclaims its relationship to the Italian school, yet in the series of
beautiful melodies it contains it rises as far above Italian opera as
Mozart's "Idomeneo." But how different is Cherubini's manner here from
that of Mozart, of whose operas at this period he most certainly had
no knowledge, having been borne wholly on the wings of his own genius
in attaining the lofty height occupied by "Iphigenia." In "Démophon,"
his first French opera, it seems as if the composer had overtasked his
strength, although the magnificent ensemble movements of the work are
far superior in form to anything in the same line attempted by Gluck,
with whom, in this instance, Cherubini had entered into competition. The
opera is full of pathos and rich in original invention, but is not cast
in the great tragic mould, and lacks the simplicity which is necessary
for the production of a striking effect. "Lodoiska" is characterized by
greater restraint, and is generally considered to be the musician's first
dramatic masterpiece. My own preference would be for the "Iphigenia," if
the libretto of that work were not so inferior. In writing "Lodoiska,"
Cherubini entered upon the domain of the French _opéra comique_, which,
through its simplicity of action and its direct appeal to human emotions,
affords great opportunities for dramatic effect in the hands of a skilful
artist. The composer's activity in the operatic line was henceforth
almost wholly confined to works of this class, among which three of the
most prominent are "Elisa," "Les Deux Journées," and "Faniska." Even
"Medée," that powerful musical tragedy was obliged, through pressure of
circumstances, to adapt itself to the same form.
[Illustration: LUIGI CHERUBINI
_Reproduction of lithograph by Léveille made from a painting by Ingres,
1842, now in possession of the Louvre in Paris._]
In all these works the style of the master is unchanged; but inasmuch as
it would exceed the limits of this article to enter upon the interesting
task of analyzing the operas in detail, there is but little more to be
said. That all are theatrically effective is a matter of course, since
they are the work of an Italian, but they possess less of the dramatic
quality in a narrower sense than the operas of Spontini, and many other
less gifted composers. As a dramatic composer Cherubini was too fond of
music for its own sake, and indulges too freely in elaborations of his
musical themes, such as enchant his hearers in the masses in F major
and D minor, but which interfere with the action in a work intended for
the stage. He does not excel in portraying the more violent emotions,
but surpasses all his predecessors in the representation of an intense,
trembling excitement, while no more recent composer has gone beyond him
in the power of awakening dramatic suspense.
If the importance of an artist's personality is to be estimated by the
influence he has exercised upon his contemporaries and upon posterity,
then Cherubini towers immeasurably above all the musicians of his day.
The French opera of the nineteenth century would not be worthy of mention
without him, and he has given to the country of his adoption in every
way far more than he ever received from it. His position with respect to
Germany is an analogous one, and Italy alone has remained almost entirely
unaffected by his music. If he received instruction from Haydn, Beethoven
in his turn was a pupil of Cherubini. "Fidelio" could not have existed
without the "Water Carrier," or the first movement of the B flat major
Symphony without Cherubini's overtures. In many portions of Beethoven's
masses, also, he followed the lead of Cherubini, whose C minor requiem he
greatly admired.
The influence of our composer upon the exponents of the romantic opera
in Germany was also very powerful. Spohr himself confessed that there
were times when he ranked Cherubini above all others, Mozart not
excepted. Weber found the form of his overture already prepared for him
in "Anacréon"; the wonderful volume of sound in Cherubini's orchestral
music, and the manner in which the color of the instruments is made to
contribute to the dramatic effect, have been studied by no one in a more
docile spirit than by Weber. With the lapse of time, indeed, it has
almost gone so far that the Germans look upon the Italian as one of their
own race. But the honor which is his due will never be fully paid to
Cherubini till the whole musical world bows down in admiration before his
artistic greatness.
[Illustration: Philipp Spitta]
[Illustration: Music. L. Cherubini]
[Illustration: ARRIGO BOITO
_Reproduction of a photograph from life by Fratelli Vianelli, Venice._]
[Illustration]
ARRIGO BOITO
Arrigo Boito presents the peculiar example of a musician high in
distinction in his own country, with a fair measure of fame in other
lands, who, though past the age of fifty years has thus far produced but
a single work, his _Mephistopheles_. This work, having at first met with
a sad repulse in Italy, recovered itself in a brilliant fashion some
years afterwards, and has since run successfully on almost all the large
stages of Europe. He is perhaps the only known example of a composer who
owes his reputation to a single work, and the uniqueness of the case
makes it worthy of mention. It is true that Arrigo Boito is poet as
well as musician, that he is more productive as poet than as musician,
and that his fame in his own country addresses itself perhaps even more
to the writer than to the composer. Another peculiarity of Boito's is
that, like Wagner, he claims that a musician cannot write a good score
unless he has also conceived and executed the poem of his opera, and he
puts this theory in practice by writing the words and the music of his
_Mephistopheles_. But he has belied himself by outlining the librettos
of half a score of operas, of which he has confided to other artists the
task of composing the music; so that, between his principles and his
conduct there is an evident contradiction.
Boito was born at Padua on the 24th of February, 1842. His father, who
was a Venetian, was a distinguished painter. His mother, Polish by birth
and education, was a woman of remarkable intellect, high birth and great
culture. The eminently artistic conditions which surrounded his early
childhood, and that of his elder brother Camillo, seemed to push them
irresistibly towards the cultivation of the fine arts. Indeed, Camillo
became an architect and distinguished art critic, whereas Arrigo devoted
himself to letters and to music.
Arrigo was only eleven years of age when he was admitted, in 1853, to
the Milan Conservatory, where he formed a very strong and fraternal
attachment for one of his fellow-students, poor Franco Faccio, an artist
of great promise, who became conductor of the orchestra at the Scala
theatre, Milan, and who died insane, cut off in the full vigor of youth
and the full maturity of his talent in less than a year after. Both had
for their masters at the Conservatory, Ronchetti and Mazzucato, and both
finished their studies in the same year, 1861. Boito had written the
words of a "mystery" in one act, entitled _le Sorelle d'Italia_, for
which he and his friend Faccio wrote the music, and this little work
was performed according to custom, by the pupils of the Conservatory in
one of the exercises at the close of the year. It was so well received
by the special audience gathered to hear it that the minister of public
instruction granted to each of the young composers a premium of 2,000
francs to enable them to study abroad for one year.
I believe that Boito then made a trip to France. At all events, he had
returned to Italy in 1862, and was already proving his poetic talent by
writing the verse of the _Inno delle Nazioni_, of which Verdi wrote the
music, and which was performed at Her Majesty's Theatre, London, on the
occasion of the opening of the Universal Exposition in that city. Soon
afterward he again became poet collaborator, furnishing his friend Franco
Faccio with the libretto of an opera entitled _Amleto_, which was given
with some success at the Carlo Felice theatre, Genoa, in 1865, but which,
given some years later, in 1871, at the Scala of Milan, suffered a
signal and memorable defeat. In 1866, when Italy was at war with Austria,
Boito, who is an ardent patriot, enlisted as a volunteer and served the
campaign in the ranks of Garibaldi's army.
The 5th of March, 1868, was the important date in Arrigo Boito's artistic
career; it was the date of the first performance, at the Scala theatre,
Milan, of his _Mephistopheles_, an opera in five acts with prologue,
the complete failure of which formed an epoch in the history of the
theatre in Italy. He had already spent several years of labor on this
important work, for which, as the title implies, he had been inspired by
Goethe's _Faust_, and which he had counted on giving this title, when the
unexpected appearance at the Scala of Gounod's _Faust_, and the success
which it obtained there, came to cause him considerable disquietude,
and obliged him, that he might not be accused of servile imitation, to
modify the plan of his work, and to change even its title. He called it
_Mephistopheles_, and proceeded with as much persistence as ever to have
it performed at the theatre which had just seen Gounod's masterpiece
applauded.
The fiasco of _Mephistopheles_ was tremendous and rarely had a storm
burst with such fury under the roof of the Scala. The author had given
such free scope to his fancy both in the music and the poem, that the
Milanese public was quite upset by his ultra romantic methods and
indignant at a work which diverged so widely from the beaten track. Yet,
although they cried out at the sacrilege and hissed furiously, those of
the spectators whose minds were not warped by prejudice, recognized in
this work, in spite of its faults, the breath of an intelligent, earnest
and inspired artist. Here is what an Italian biographer of Boito says on
the subject:
"Boito staged Goethe's poem with true spirit, making the Evil One
his protagonist and giving to the drama an absolutely new form, even
attempting to bring back the use of the Latin metres in his verses,
an attempt which he was the first to make. The first performance of
_Mephistopheles_ at the Scala was a veritable battle, in which the work
was sustained by passionate admirers and combatted by bitter adversaries.
The composer, with rare intrepidity, directed the orchestra as if he
were wholly oblivious of the uproar which surged about him. In short
_Mephistopheles_ fell, but in so doing left a lasting impression on
the minds of the public. Perhaps its failure was chiefly due to the
excessive length of certain episodes, and the little or no dramatic
element in some places, as for instance the symphonic interlude between
the fourth and fifth acts. But Boito was not discouraged, and he was
right. Apart from a certain eccentricity which even the intelligent,
unprejudiced public did not relish and which it wished to see disappear
from the prologue of the libretto, his opera contained many real
beauties. Boito had the rare virtue of submitting partially to the wishes
of this public, and the patience to wait till his time should arrive:
and it did arrive. In 1875, _Mephistopheles_ was performed at Bologna
and applauded there. In 1881, it reappeared at the Scala, reduced to
four acts and considerably modified, and this time it was received with
enthusiasm. The author was feted by numerous artists, critics and men of
letters assembled at Milan on the occasion of the national Exposition,
and from there his work began to make the tour of the theatres of the two
worlds, being everywhere received with equal favor."
More productive as poet, I have already said, than as musician, it
was in this capacity that Boito appeared before the public during
the interval that elapsed between the first and second editions of
his _Mephistopheles_. He first published a little humorous poem, _Re
Orso_, which had great success. Then he soon set to work to write opera
librettos for various composers. He wrote, by order of Mazzucato,
director of the Milan Conservatory, the poem of a little opera in one
act, _un Tramonto_, the music of which was written by a pupil of the
establishment, Gaetano Coronaro, become since then second conductor at
the Scala. This opera was written for representation on the little stage
of the Conservatory at the closing exercises of the academic year. It was
to this work, which was afterwards played at several Italian theatres,
that Coronaro owed his diploma on leaving the Conservatory. A little
later Boito wrote the libretto of _la Falce_ for Alfredo Catalini, an
opera which also appeared first at the Conservatory; then he gave to
Amilcare Ponchielli the libretto of _Gioconda_, which was very successful
in Italy and abroad. The subject of _Gioconda_ he had borrowed from one
of the most beautiful of Victor Hugo's dramas, _Angelo tyran de Padone_,
but he had reduced it for the lyric stage with great skill, preserving
the principal situations, and those best calculated to excite the
inspiration of the composer. Boito signed these various works with the
pseudonym _Tobia Gorrio_, which forms an anagram of his name, Arrigo
Boito.
It was about this time that Boito wrote the words and the music of an
opera entitled _Ero e Leandro_. The verses are exquisite, it is said, and
worthy of a true poet, but the music did not satisfy him and he declined
to make it known. He then confided the poem of _Ero e Leandro_ to the
celebrated double-bass player, Bottesini, who was also a distinguished
composer, and the opera with the latter's music was performed in 1879
at the royal theatre of Turin. Boito had not entirely condemned his
own score, however, and he embodied several fragments of it in his new
edition of _Mephistopheles_, among others, the duet _Lontano, lontano_.
He wrote librettos for other composers, particularly _Alessandro Farnese_
and _le Maschere_, and he published a volume of poems, _il Libro dei
versi_ (Turin, Casanova, 1877,) which was very well received by the
public, and parts of which deserve the honor of being included by Paolo
Heyse in his _Antologia dei poeti italiani_.
Boito, whose ideas and principles are very advanced in music, as in
literature, put himself at the head of the Wagnerian party in Italy. He
was one of the most ardent in sustaining and spreading in his country
the doctrines of the German master, being aided at Milan by the musical
critic of the _Perseveranza_, Filippo Filippi, who died some years ago,
and at Rome by Sgambati, a remarkable pianist and composer, and one of
the most distinguished artists of his country. In order to accelerate
as much as possible the movement which was manifesting itself in Italy
in favor of Wagner, Boito did not hesitate to make a translation of his
works. To him is due the Italian adaptation of _Rienzi_, performed at
Turin in 1882, and that of _Tristan and Isolde_.
He had not given up, however, appearing again himself as a composer,
and he had written the libretto of a lyric drama entitled _Nerone_, for
which he also wished to compose the score. But at least ten years have
slipped by since this work was first spoken of, the newspapers announcing
each year that it is about ready for representation, and nothing has
been seen of it yet. So the Italian critics make much sport of Boito
and his long promised work. However, while waiting for _Nerone_ to be
finished, Boito has written for Verdi, who has a very deep affection for
him, the librettos of two great works, one of them dramatic, the other
comic, the subjects of which he has borrowed from Shakespeare. The first
is _Otello_, which has been so successful for a number of years, and
which Verdi did not hesitate to attempt after Rossini; the second is
_Falstaff_, of which the master has finished the score, and which is to
be performed in the near future at the Scala, Milan.