IL BARBIERE.
Rossini did not bring out his _Barber_ without addressing a few words of
explanation, if not of apology, to the public; and by way of disclaiming
all idea of entering into rivalry with Paisiello he announced his opera
under a new title.
"Beaumarchais' comedy," he wrote, in an advertisement to the public,
"entitled the _Barber of Seville; or, The Useless Precaution_,[5] is
presented at Rome in the form of a comic drama, under the title of
_Almaviva; or, The Useless Precaution_, in order that the public may be
fully convinced of the sentiments of respect and veneration by which the
author of the music of this drama is animated with regard to the
celebrated Paisiello, who has already treated the subject under its
primitive title.
"Himself invited to undertake this difficult task, the maestro,
Gioachino Rossini, in order to avoid the reproach of entering into
rivalry with the immortal author who preceded him, expressly required
that the _Barber of Seville_ should be entirely versified anew, and also
that new situations should be added for the musical pieces, which,
moreover, are required by the modern theatrical taste--entirely changed
since the time when the renowned Paisiello wrote his work.
"Certain other differences between the arrangement of the present drama
and that of the French comedy above-cited were produced by the necessity
of introducing choruses, both for conformity with modern usage, and
because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a theatre.
The courteous public is informed of this beforehand, that it may also
excuse the author of the new drama who, unless obliged by these
imperious circumstances, would never have ventured to introduce the
least change into the French work, already consecrated by the applause
of all the theatres in Europe."
When, in the above announcement, Rossini speaks of "new situations for
the musical pieces which are required by the modern theatrical taste,
entirely changed since the time of Paisiello;" and again of the
necessity of introducing choruses, "both for conformity with modern
usage and because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a
theatre," he describes changes which he himself introduced. The "modern
theatrical taste" of Rossini's time was the taste he had himself
created. That Paisiello's forms, and especially his formlessness (as in
long scenes of recitative) were already considered old and were indeed
obsolete, though his _Barber_ had only been thirty-five years before the
public, was implied rather pointedly in the sub-title of Sterbini's
libretto, which was described as follows: "Comedy by Beaumarchais, newly
versified throughout, and arranged for the use of the modern Italian
Musical Theatre."
Paisiello's _Barber_ had decidedly grown old. But as it was no longer
played, people, by reason of its ancient reputation, continued to hold
it in esteem; and the Roman public considered it very audacious for a
young composer like Rossini to have ventured into competition with so
illustrious a master. The young librettist Sterbini was considered quite
as impertinent in his way as his musical associate. Among the Roman
public a compact body of Paisiello's friends, with the spirit of
Paisiello in the midst of them, formed a dangerous clique of enemies;
and so determined was the opposition that Rossini had to meet on the
occasion of his work being represented for the first time that the
overture--an original work composed expressly for _Il Barbiere_, and not
the overture to _Aureliano_ and to _Elisabetta_ afterwards substituted
for it--was executed in the midst of a general murmuring; "such,"
remarks Zanolini, "as is heard on the approach of a procession."[6]
According to M. Azevedo the original overture was lost through the
carelessness of a copyist; but the work could scarcely thus have
disappeared unless not only the score, but also the band parts, had
vanished. Stendhal says that the overture at the first representation
was that of _Aureliano in Palmira_--the one performed even to the
present day. He adds that the audience recognised, or fancied it
recognised, in the overture the grumbling of the old guardian and the
lively remonstrances of his interesting ward. However that may have been
the overture was scarcely listened to; nor did the introduction meet
with any better fate, nor, indeed, could even the appearance of Garcia
on the stage dispose the public in favour of the new work.
Garcia, the most famous tenor of his time, was of course the Almaviva of
the evening. It has already been seen that Luigi Zamboni, Rossini's
fellow-lodger during the composition of the work, was the original
Figaro. The Don Basilio was Vitarelli; Bartolo, Botticelli. The part of
Rosina was assigned to Mme. Giorgi-Righetti, who has left a very
interesting account of the first representation of the opera.[7]
The composer had been weak enough, says the _prima donna_ of this
historical evening, "to allow Garcia to sing beneath Rosina's balcony a
Spanish melody of his own arrangement." Garcia held that as the scene
was laid in Spain, and as Count Almaviva was a Spaniard nothing could be
more appropriate than that this interesting personage should address the
lady of his heart in Spanish song. Unfortunately he forgot to tune his
guitar, and this indispensable preliminary operation had to be performed
by Rosina's serenader on the stage. The public began to laugh; then a
string broke, and the public began to hiss. When the broken string had
been replaced, and the air so awkwardly prefaced was at length heard,
the public did not like it and only listened to it enough to be able to
reproduce certain passages of it in burlesque tones. The introduction to
Figaro's air, which, as every opera-goer knows, is, before being sung by
the vocalist, played by the orchestra, attracted, as well it might do, a
certain amount of attention. When, however, Zamboni entered with
another guitar, the anti-guitarists set up a loud laugh, and without
waiting to see whether the baritone, unlike the tenor, had taken the
trouble to tune his instrument beforehand, hissed and hooted so that not
a note of "Largo al Fattotum" was heard. When Mme. Giorgi-Righetti made
her appearance in the balcony, she was, in her character of favourite
singer, applauded; but having no air assigned to her in this not very
suitable situation, the audience thought they were being robbed of the
expected _cavatina_, and uttered murmurs of disapprobation. The
brilliant and melodious duet for Almaviva and Figaro was sung in the
midst of hisses and derisive shouts. When, however, Rosina reappeared
and sang the first notes of "Una voce" the audience became silent; a
chance was given to the composer for the sake of the singer. Mme.
Giorgi-Righetti was radiant with youth and beauty; the effect of her
fresh, beautiful voice was too much for the opposition. The conclusion
of her bright, sparkling air was followed by three long rounds of
applause. Rossini bowed from his place, at the head of the orchestra, to
the public, and then turning towards the singer, whispered, "_Oh
natura_!"
Vitarelli, the representative of Don Basilio, had "made up" admirably
for the part; and his entry would possibly have been effective but that
a trap having been left open on the stage he stumbled over it, fell,
damaged his face, and on rising had to begin his admirable dramatic air
on the efficacy of calumny with his handkerchief to his nose. A portion
of the public is said to have imagined that the fall, the injuries to
the face, the handkerchief to the nose, were all in the business of the
part, and thinking it savoured of buffoonery, expressed their
disapproval accordingly. The duet of the letter was objected to by
reason of certain incidents afterwards left out; but the music must have
been liked for its own sake had it only been heard. As if the untuned
guitar, the broken string, the newly-placed cavatina, the open trap, the
fall of Don Basilio, and the necessity under which Rosina's music-master
found himself of singing "La Calunnia" with a handkerchief in front of
his mouth had not been enough, the opening of the finest concerted
finale which had yet been given to the Italian stage was the signal for
the appearance of a cat, which was chased in one direction by Figaro, in
another by Bartholo, and which, in a wild endeavour to escape from an
attack made upon it by Basilio, ran into the skirt of Rosina's dress.
The self-introduction of the cat among the principal characters, grouped
together for the finely built concerted piece which brings the first act
to an end, disarranged as a matter of course all the master's
combinations. During the performance of the opening movement the
attention of the public was concentrated entirely on the cat, and
general laughter went on increasing until the long, elaborate,
constantly varied, and, on all other occasions, highly interesting
finale was brought to an end.
With something like a just appreciation of his own merit and with
profound contempt for the injustice and insolence of the public,
Rossini, on the fall of the curtain, turned round and applauded. He was
the only person in the theatre who did so; and the audience indignant
at the presumption of this interested minority of one, was at the same
time so astonished that it forgot at the time to manifest its
resentment.
The moment of vengeance arrived when the curtain rose for the second
act. The public showed what it thought of Rossini's having ventured to
show what he thought of his own music, by hissing and hooting in such a
manner that not a note of the second act was heard. The composer, while
this organised noise was being kept up, remained perfectly calm at the
orchestral piano. At the end of the performance he went home to bed; and
when the principal singers called upon him soon afterwards to condole
with him he was fast asleep.
The only change that Rossini next day found it necessary to make in his
work was to substitute a new air for the unfortunate Spanish song which
Garcia had been allowed to introduce. This gave him no trouble. He
simply transcribed for the solo voice the melody of the celebrated
chorus which had already figured first in _Ciro in Babilonia_, and
afterwards in _Aureliano in Palmira_. Such was the origin of the
beautiful "Ecco ridente il cielo" which he handed to Garcia as he wrote
it, and which was sung the same evening. Those who believe in the
absolute significance of music apart from words, may be interested to
hear that Almaviva's charming love song was, as first composed, a
prayer--as a love song after all may well be.
At the second representation the _Barber_ was comparatively well
received. Being heard, it was naturally admired. Indeed, a certain
number of connoisseurs are said to have appreciated it from the very
first, though on the opening night the difficulty must have been not to
understand the work--which appeals alike to the simplest, and to the
most cultivated, musical intelligence--but merely to hear it. After a
few performances Rossini's new work began to excite enthusiasm; and it
had not been before the public for more than a week when it was received
nightly with frantic applause.
Garcia's Spanish melody was, after some years, reintroduced into the
_Barber_ by Rubini; the trio which, in the music lesson scene, occupied
the place now filled by no matter what fancy air that the Rosina of the
evening thinks fit to introduce, is known to have been lost: and it has
been seen that, according to some authorities, a like fate attended the
overture written specially for the work. Stendhal, on the unacknowledged
authority of Carpani, states that at the first representation the opera
was preceded by the overture to _Aureliano in Palmira_ and to
_Elisabetta_, which, though heard in connection with the former work at
Milan and in connection with the latter at Naples, had never been heard
at Rome. Besides borrowing from himself, Rossini, in more than one
"number" of the _Barber of Seville_, was indebted to the invention of
others. The melody of the trio "Zitti zitti" is taken, note for note,
from Simon's air in Haydn's _Seasons_--a work, it will be remembered, of
which Rossini in his early youth had directed the performance at the
Lyceum of Bologna. The very lively tune sung by the Duenna Berta is
adapted without much alteration from a Russian dance, which Rossini had
heard played by a Russian lady of his acquaintance. It soon became the
custom not to listen to Berta's air, which is always assigned to an
inferior singer; and it acquired the name of the "Ice tune;" not in
allusion to its place of origin, but because, during its performance,
the people in the boxes called for ices. The part of Rosina, which in
the present day is usually given to the soprano, was composed for the
mezzo-soprano voice. Mme. Giorgi-Righetti sang it, of course, in its
original key; that of F. Many a soprano has sung it in G. According to
an account given by M. Castil-Blaze in his _Histoire du Theatre Italien_
of the different keys in which the principal airs of _Il Barbiere_ have
been sung, Figaro's "Largo al fattotum," written for Zamboni in the key
of C, is generally sung in B flat; Tamburini, however, sang it in B
natural. Basilio's "La calunnia," written in D, is for the most part
sung in C. Lablache used to sing in D flat the air for Bartholo, written
in E flat.
Whatever may be said as to the character belonging absolutely to this or
that key, it would be difficult to allow that the music of Rosina, of
Figaro, of Basilio, or of Bartolo has either lost or gained by these
frequent transpositions.