An ardent disciple of Wagner sums up his ideas of the mania for
the Rossini music, which possessed Europe for fifteen years, in the
following: "Rossini, the most gifted and spoiled of her sons [speaking
of Italy] sallied forth with an innumerable army of Bacchantic melodies
to conquer the world, the Messiah of joy, the breaker of thought and
sorrow. Europe, by this time, had tired of the empty pomp of French
declamation. It lent but too willing an ear to the new gospel, and
eagerly quaffed the intoxicating potion, which Rossini poured out in
inexhaustible streams." This very well expresses the delight of all the
countries of Europe in music which for a long time almost monopolized
the stage.
The charge of being a mere tune-spinner, the denial of invention, depth,
and character, have been common watchwords in the mouths of critics
wedded to other schools. But Rossini's place in music stands unshaken by
all assaults. The vivacity of his style, the freshness of his melodies,
the richness of his combinations, made all the Italian music that
preceded him pale and colorless. No other writer revels in such luxury
of beauty, and delights the ear with such a succession of delicious
surprises in melody.
Henry Chorley, in his "Thirty Years' Musical Recollections," rebukes the
bigotry which sees nothing good but in its own kind: "I have never been
able to understand why this [referring to the Rossinian richness of
melody] should be contemned as necessarily false and meretricious--why
the poet may not be allowed the benefit of his own period and time--why
a lover of architecture is to be compelled to swear by the _Dom_
at Bamberg, or by the Cathedral at Monreale--that he must abhor and
denounce Michel Angelo's church or the Baths of Diocletian at Rome--why
the person who enjoys 'Il Barbiere' is to be denounced as frivolously
faithless to Mozart's 'Figaro'--and as incapable of comprehending
'Fidelio,' because the last act of 'Otello' and the second of 'Guillaume
Tell' transport him into as great an enjoyment of its kind as do
the duet in the cemetery between 'Don Juan' and 'Leporello' and the
'Prisoners' Chorus.' How much good, genial pleasure has not the world
lost in music, owing to the pitting of styles one against the other!
Your true traveler will be all the more alive to the beauty of Nuremberg
because he has looked out over the 'Golden Shell' at Palermo; nor
delight in Rhine and Danube the less because he has seen the glow of a
southern sunset over the broken bridge at Avignon."
As grand and true as are many of the essential elements in the Wagner
school of musical composition, the bitterness and narrowness of spite
with which its upholders have pursued the memory of Rossini is equally
offensive and unwarrantable. Rossini, indeed, did not revolutionize
the forms of opera as transmitted to him by his predecessors, but he
reformed and perfected them in various notable ways. Both in comic
and serious opera, music owes much to Rossini. He substituted genuine
singing for the endless recitative of which the Italian opera before him
largely consisted; he brought the bass and baritone voices to the front,
banished the pianoforte from the orchestra, and laid down the principle
that the singer should deliver the notes written for him without
additions of his own. He gave the chorus a much more important part than
before, and elaborated the concerted music, especially in the _finales_,
to a degree of artistic beauty before unknown in the Italian opera.
Above all, he made the operatic orchestra what it is to-day. Every new
instrument that was invented Rossini found a place for in his brilliant
scores, and thereby incurred the warmest indignation of all writers
of the old school. Before him the orchestras had consisted largely of
strings, but Rossini added an equally imposing clement of the brasses
and reeds. True, Mozart had forestalled Rossini in many if not all these
innovations, a fact which the Italian cheerfully admitted; for, with
the simple frankness characteristic of the man, he always spoke of his
obligations to and his admiration of the great German. To an admirer who
was one day burning incense before him, Rossini said, in the spirit of
Cimarosa quoted elsewhere: "My 'Barber' is only a bright farce, but in
Mozart's 'Marriage of Figaro' you have the finest possible masterpiece
of musical comedy."
With all concessions made to Mozart as the founder of the forms of
modern opera, an equally high place must be given to Rossini for the
vigor and audacity with which he made these available, and impressed
them on all his contemporaries and successors. Though Rossini's
self-love was flattered by constant adulation, his expressions of
respect and admiration for such composers as Mozart, Gluck, Beethoven,
and Cherubini display what a catholic and generous nature he possessed.
The judgment of Ambros, a severe critic, whose bias was against Rossini,
shows what admiration was wrung from him by the last opera of the
composer: "Of all that particularly characterizes Rossini's early operas
nothing is discoverable in 'Tell;' there is none of his usual mannerism;
but, on the contrary, unusual richness of form and careful finish of
detail, combined with grandeur of outline. Meretricious embellishment,
shakes, runs, and cadences are carefully avoided in this work, which is
natural and characteristic throughout; even the melodies have not the
stamp and style of Rossini's earlier times, but only their graceful
charm and lively coloring."
Rossini must be allowed to be unequaled in genuine comic opera, and
to have attained a distinct greatness in serious opera, to be the most
comprehensive and at the same time the most national composer of Italy,
to be, in short, the Mozart of his country. After all has been admitted
and regretted--that he gave too little attention to musical science;
that he often neglected to infuse into his work the depth and passion of
which it was easily capable; that he placed too high a value on merely
brilliant effects _ad captandum vulgus_--there remains the fact that his
operas embody a mass of imperishable music, which will live with the
art itself. Musicians of every country now admit his wondrous grace,
his fertility and freshness of invention, his matchless treatment of the
voice, his effectiveness in arrangement of the orchestra. He can
never be made a model, for his genius had too much spontaneity and
individuality of color. But he impressed and modified music hardly less
than Gluck, whose tastes and methods were entirely antagonistic to his
own. That he should have retired from the exercise of his art while in
the full flower of his genius is a perplexing fact. No stranger story
is recorded in the annals of art with respect to a genius who filled
the world with his glory, and then chose to vanish, "not unseen." On
finishing his crowning stroke of genius and skill in "William Tell," he
might have said with Shakespeare's enchanter, Prospero:
".... But this magic I here abjure; and when I have required
Some heavenly music (which even now I do)
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff--
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book."
A bright English critic, whose style is as charming as his judgments are
good, says, in his study of the Donizetti music: "I find myself thinking
of his music as I do of Domenichino's pictures of 'St. Agnes' and the
'Rosario' in the Bologna gallery, of the 'Diana' in the Borghese Palace
at Rome, as pictures equable and skillful in the treatment of their
subjects, neither devoid of beauty of form nor of color, but which
make neither the pulse quiver nor the eye wet; and then such a sweeping
judgment is arrested by a work like the 'St. Jerome' in the Vatican,
from which a spirit comes forth so strong and so exalted, that the
beholder, however trained to examine, and compare, and collect, finds
himself raised above all recollections of manner by the sudden ascent
of talent into the higher world of genius. Essentially a second-rate
composer,* Donizetti struck out some first-rate things in a happy hour,
such as the last act of 'La Favorita.'"
* Mr. Chorley probably means "second-rate" as compared with
the few very great names, which can be easily counted on the
fingers.
Both Donizetti and Bellini, though far inferior to their master in
richness of resources, in creative faculty and instinct for what may
be called dramatic expression in pure musical form, were disciples of
Rossini in their ideas and methods of work. Milton sang of Shakespeare--
"Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
"Warbles his native wood-notes wild!"
In a similar spirit, many learned critics have written of Rossini, and
if it can be said of him in a musical sense that he had "little Latin
and less Greek," still more true is it of the two popular composers
whose works have filled so large a space in the opera-house of the last
thirty years, for their scores are singularly thin, measured by the
standard of advanced musical science. Specially may this be said of
Bellini, in many respects the greater of the two. There is scarcely
to be found in music a more signal example to show that a marked
individuality may rest on a narrow base. In justice to him, however, it
may be said that his early death prevented him from doing full justice
to his powers, for he had in him the material out of which the great
artist is made. Let us first sketch the career of Donizetti, the author
of sixty-four operas, besides a mass of other music, such as cantatas,
ariettas, duets, church music, etc., in the short space of twenty-six
years.
Gàetano Donizetti was born at Bergamo, September 25, 1798, his father
being a man of moderate fortune.*
* Admirers of the author of "Don Pasquale" and "Lucia" may
be interested in knowing that Donizetti was of Scotch
descent. His grandfather was a native of Perthshire, named
Izett. The young Scot was beguiled by the fascinating tongue
of a recruiting-sergeant into his Britannic majesty's
service, and was taken prisoner by General La Hoche during
the latter's invasion of Ireland. Already tired of a
private's life, he accepted the situation, and was induced
to become the French general's private secretary.
Subsequently he drifted to Italy, and married an Italian
lady of some rank, denationalizing his own name into
Donizetti. The Scottish predilections of our composer show
themselves in the music of "Don Pasquale," noticeably in
"Com' e gentil;" and the score of "Lucia" is strongly
flavored by Scottish sympathy and minstrelsy.
Receiving a good classical education, the young Gäetano had three
careers open before him: the bar, to which the will of his father
inclined; architecture, indicated by his talent for drawing; and music,
to which he was powerfully impelled by his own inclinations. His
father sent him, at the age of seventeen, to Bologna to benefit by the
instruction of Padre Mattel, who had also been Rossini's master. The
young man showed no disposition for the heights of musical science as
demanded by religious composition, and, much to his father's disgust,
avowed his determination to write dramatic music. Paternal anger, for
the elder Donizetti seems to have had a strain of Scotch obstinacy and
austerity, made the youth enlist as a soldier, thinking to find time for
musical work in the leisure of barrack-life. His first opera, "Enrico
di Borgogna," was so highly admired by the Venetian manager, to whom, it
was offered, that he induced friends of his to release young Donizetti
from his military servitude. He now pursued musical composition with a
facility and industry which astonished even the Italians, familiar with
feats of improvisation. In ten years twenty-eight operas were produced.
Such names as "Olivo e Pasquale," "La Convenienze Teatrali," "Il
Borgomaestro di Saardam," "Gianni di Calais," "L'Esule di Roma," "Il
Castello di Kenilworth," "Imelda di Lambertazzi," have no musical
significance, except as belonging to a catalogue of forgotten titles.
Donizetti was so poorly paid that need drove him to rapid composition,
which could not wait for the true afflatus.
It was not till 1831 that the evidence of a strong individuality was
given, for hitherto he had shown little more than a slavish imitation
of Rossini. "Anna Bolena" was produced at Milan and gained him great
credit, and even now, though it is rarely sung even in Italy, it is
much respected as a work of art as well as of promise. It was first
interpreted by Pasta and Rubini, and Lablache won his earliest London
triumph in it. "Marino Faliero" was composed for Paris in 1835, and
"L'Elisir d'Amore," one of the most graceful and pleasing of Donizetti's
works, for Milan in 1832. "Lucia di Lammermoor," based on Walter Scott's
novel, was given to the public in 1835, and has remained the most
popular of the composer's operas. _Edgardo_ was written for the great
French tenor, Duprez, _Lucia_ for Persiani.
Donizetti's kindness of heart was illustrated by the interesting
circumstances of his saving an obscure Neapolitan theatre from ruin.
Hearing that it was on the verge of suspension and the performers
in great distress, the composer sought them out and supplied their
immediate wants. The manager said a new work from the pen of Donizetti
would be his salvation. "You shall have one within a week," was the
answer.
Lacking a subject, he himself rearranged an old French vaudeville, and
within the week the libretto was written, the music composed, the parts
learned, the opera performed, and the theatre saved. There could be no
greater proof of his generosity of heart and his versatility of talent.
In these days of bitter quarreling over the rights of authors in their
works, it may be amusing to know that Victor Hugo contested the rights
of Italian librettists to borrow their plots from French plays. When
"Lucrezia Borgia," composed for Milan in 1834, was produced at Paris
in 1840, the French poet instituted a suit for an infringement of
copyright. He gained his action, and "Lucrezia Borgia" became "La
Rinegata," Pope Alexander the Sixth's Italians being metamorphosed into
Turks.*
* Victor Hugo did the same thing with Verdi's "Ernani," and
other French authors followed with legal actions. The matter
was finally arranged on condition of an indemnity being paid
to the original French dramatists. The principle involved
had been established nearly two centuries before. In a
privilege granted to St. Amant in 1653 for the publication
of his "Moïse Sauvé," it was forbidden to extract from that
epic materials for a play or poem. The descendants of
Beaumarchais fought for the same concession, and not very
long ago it was decided that the translators and arrangers
of "Le Nozze di Figaro" for the Théâtre Lyrique must share
their receipts with the living representatives of the author
of "Le Mariage de Figaro."
"Lucrezia Borgia," which, though based on one of the most dramatic of
stories and full of beautiful music, is not dramatically treated by the
composer, seems to mark the distance about half way between the styles
of Rossini and Verdi. In it there is but little recitative, and in the
treatment of the chorus we find the method which Verdi afterward came to
use exclusively. When Donizetti revisited Paris in 1840 he produced in
rapid succession "I Martiri," "La Fille du Regiment," and "La Favorita."
In the second of these works Jenny Lind, Sontag, and Alboni won bright
triumphs at a subsequent period.