END OF ROSSINI'S ITALIAN CAREER.
"La Donna del Lago" was Rossini's Italian "Tell" in more than one
respect. As the composer was only twenty-seven years of age, and had not
even begun to make his fortune when it was produced, he could not very
well abandon musical composition merely on finding that his greatest
work was not appreciated.
But he certainly felt hurt at the reception given to "La Donna del Lago"
on its first production at Naples; and although he kept his secret (if
there really was a secret) both in regard to this work and to "Guillaume
Tell," the fact is patent that of his next five operas, the last he
wrote for Italy, one ("Bianca il Faliero") was composed for Milan, one
("Matilda di Sabran") for Rome, one ("Zelmira") for Vienna, and one
("Semiramide") for Venice.
As to the fifth ("Maometto Secondo"), Rossini was already under an
engagement to furnish it to Barbaja for the Carnival of 1830, when "La
Donna del Lago" was brought out in October, 1819. But after the
production of "Maometto Secondo" (which we shall meet with again under
another title at Paris) he wrote nothing specially for Naples, except a
farewell cantata called "La Riconoscenza," which was produced at his
benefit, on the 27th of December, 1821.
The next day he quitted the city for which he had written eight operas,
with "Otello," "Mosè," and "La Donna del Lago" among the number, went to
Bologna, and there married Mademoiselle Isabella Colbran, who, in all
Rossini's operas written for Naples, played the first part, and who was
yet to appear as _Zelmira_ and as _Semiramide_.
* * * * *
"But we are anticipating," as the novelists say. Before getting married,
Rossini had other engagements to fulfil. "Bianca e Faliero" was produced
at La Scala for the Carnival of 1820, without entire success.
Nevertheless, thanks to a duet for female voices, and a quartet, which
was so much liked that it was sung twice every evening (once in its
proper place in the opera, once in the ballet), the opera attained a
highly satisfactory number of representations.
"Maometto Secondo" was also written for the Carnival of 1820, and, as
before mentioned, was the last work that Rossini wrote specially for the
San Carlo. Galli made a great impression in the part of _Maometto_, and
his air, "Sogete," was particularly applauded. The other singers were
Mademoiselle Colbran, Mademoiselle Chaumel (the future wife of Rubini),
Nozzare, Cicimarra, and Benedetti.
M. Azevedo tells us that the Duke Ventignano, who wrote the libretto of
"Maometto Secondo," passed for a _jettatore_, and that, to avert the
influence of the poet's "evil eye," Rossini took care to make the
indispensable signs with his thumbs from time to time as he composed his
music.
But Rossini's fate seems to have depended more upon political events
than on the "evil eye" of individuals. The Revolution of 1830 affected
his French career, and the Neapolitan Revolution of 1820 had doubtless
quite as much to do with Rossini's departure from Naples as the cold
reception of "La Donna del Lago." The republicans actually wished him to
enter the national guard, and it is said that General Pepe did prevail
upon him two or three times to wear a uniform.
The change in the political situation had a disastrous effect on the
fortunes of Barbaja, who, to begin with, found himself deprived of his
customary profits from the operatic gambling tables, which were
suppressed.
* * * * *
"Matilda di Sabran" was produced at Rome for the Carnival of 1821, not
at the scene of Rossini's former triumph in the same capital, but at the
"Apollo," a theatre directed by the banker Torlonia. This opera, revived
in Paris some years ago with Madame Bosio, Madame Borghi-Mamo, and
Signor Gassier in the principal characters, is scarcely known in
England. It is remarkable among Rossini's works as the only one in which
the chief female part is written for a high soprano. On the occasion of
its first performance the admirers of Rossini and the partisans of the
old school disputed, quarrelled, and ultimately fought outside the
theatre with sticks, when it is satisfactory to know that the admirers
of Rossini gained the day.
Paganini, happening to be in Rome when "Matilda di Sabran" was produced,
offered to direct the orchestra at the three first performances, and did
so with great success. Never, it is said, did the band of the "Apollo"
play with so much spirit before.
* * * * *
"Zelmira," composed for Vienna, was first produced at Naples. It will be
remembered that the Italian theatre at Vienna, the San Carlo and Del
Fondo theatre of Naples were all in the hands of the same manager.
Mademoiselle Colbran, Mademoiselle Cecconi, Davide, Nozzare, and
Benedetti were the singers, and the work was brought out in the middle
of December, 1821.
Rossini was now on the point of leaving Naples altogether. A few days
after the first representation of "Zelmira" he took a benefit, when a
cantata, which he had written for the occasion, "La Riconoscenza," was
executed, Rubini and the former Mademoiselle Chaumel, now Madame Rubini,
being among the vocalists.
Mademoiselle Colbran did not sing at this interesting ceremony; she had
to start early the next morning for Bologna, where a ceremony still more
interesting required her presence. Rossini accompanied her, and the
marriage took place in the palace of Cardinal Opizzoni, Archbishop of
Bologna, who performed the service. Rossini's parents were present,
together with Nozzare and Davide, the two inseparable tenors.
Mademoiselle Colbran had saved a considerable sum of money, considering
the difference between the earnings of an Italian prima donna fifty
years ago and those of a European prima donna of the present day.
M. Azevedo assigns to Mademoiselle Colbran an income from property of
four hundred a year; Stendhal, more generous, had given her eight
hundred. She had at least, in the words of Zanolini, "a delicious villa
and revenues in Sicily."
From Bologna, Rossini, his wife, and the two tenors went to Vienna,
where the composer was received with enthusiasm, and what was more, no
doubt, to his taste, with distinguished attention from the most
illustrious persons in the capital. It is said that Rossini was handled
roughly in the musical press, and that the names of Haydn and Mozart
were invoked to his disadvantage. This, however, did not diminish his
success with the public, who, going to the theatre to be pleased, came
away delighted whenever one of Rossini's works had been performed.
Various accounts of Rossini's interview with Beethoven have been
published. Beethoven had heard the "Barber of Seville," had been much
pleased with it, and had thought still better of it on examining the
score. However this may have been, Rossini knew and greatly admired
Beethoven's work,[29] and he made a point of calling upon the great
composer soon after his arrival in Vienna. The interview does not seem
to have been a long one, nor, considering that Beethoven was in broken
health and tormented by his malady of deafness, could it have been
interesting on either side. It left a sad impression on Rossini, who
appreciated Beethoven's genius.
The attacks with which Rossini was saluted on his first appearance at
Vienna, as afterwards at Paris, did him more good than harm. They
irritated his admirers, and called forth their enthusiasm. They also
drew out some able replies. Carpani, the author of "Le Rossiniane," was
at Vienna when Rossini arrived there to produce "Zelmira," and took up
the pen valiantly on behalf of his idol.
Carpani was a good musician, and should not be held answerable for all
Stendhal's remarks on music in the "Vie de Rossini," any more than he
must be credited with the acute, delicate observations on literature,
society, national peculiarities, &c., in which the book abounds. Carpani
had the happiness to furnish Rossini with the words of an air which he
added to "Zelmira" for Mademoiselle Eckerlin, who undertook the
contralto part when the opera was brought out at Vienna. He was present
at a great number of representations, and ended by writing an elaborate
notice of the work.
"'Zelmira,'" he says, "is an opera in only two acts, which lasts nearly
four hours, and does not appear long to any one, not even to the
musicians of the orchestra, which is to say everything. In this
extraordinary opera there are not two bars which can be said to be taken
from any other work of Rossini. Far from working his habitual mine, the
author exhibits a vein hitherto unattacked. It contains enough to
furnish not one, but four operas. In this work Rossini, by the new
riches which he draws from his prodigious imagination, is no longer the
author of 'Otello,' 'Tancredi,' 'Zoraide,' and all his preceding works;
he is another composer--new, agreeable, and fertile, as much as the
first, but with more command of himself, more pure, more masterly, and,
above all, more faithful to the interpretation of the words. The forms
of style employed in this opera, according to circumstances, are so
varied, that now we seem to hear Gluck, now Traetta, now Sacchini, now
Mozart, now Handel; for the gravity, the learning, the naturalness, the
suavity of their conceptions live and blossom again in 'Zelmira.' The
transitions are learned, and inspired more by considerations of poetry
and sense than by caprice and a mania for innovation. The vocal parts,
always natural, never trivial, give expression to the words, without
ceasing to be melodious. The great point is to preserve both. The
instrumentation of Rossini is really incomparable by the vivacity and
freedom of the manner, by the variety and justness of the colouring."
On the subject of Madame Rossini-Colbran's voice Carpani writes like a
Neapolitan royalist. "She has," he says, "a very sweet, full, sonorous
quality of voice, particularly in the middle and lower notes; a
finished, pure, insinuating style. She has no outbursts, but a fine
_portamento_, perfect intonation, and an accomplished method. The Graces
seem to have watered with nectar each of her syllables, her _fioriture_,
her _volate_, her shakes. She sings with one breath a series of
semitones, extending to nearly two octaves, in a clear, pearly manner,
and excels in all the other arts of singing. Her acting is noble and
dignified, as becomes her imposing and majestic beauty."
As to the two tenors, Nozzare was "more a baritone than a tenor;"
endowed with extraordinary power, and a great extent of voice.
Of Davide's singing, Carpani has a much better opinion than was formed
by M. Bertin, the French critic, who, however, regarded Davide more
from a dramatic than from a musical point of view. "He is," says the
Italian writer, "the Moscheles, the Paganini of singing. Like these two
despots of their instrument, he manages as he wishes a voice which is
not perfect, but of great extent, and what he obtains from it is
astonishing."
At the conclusion of the Vienna season, Rossini returned to Bologna,
where, soon after his arrival, he received a letter from Prince
Metternich, inviting him to come to Verona during the Congress. The
minister pointed out that the object of the gathering being the
re-establishment of general harmony, the presence of Rossini was
indispensable. The composer accepted the argument, went to Verona, and
wrote for the benefit of the Congress--into whose programme festivities
entered largely--three cantatas, the most important of which was called
"Il Vero Omaggio."
At Verona, Rossini was introduced to Chateaubriand, with whom he had a
long and interesting conversation. Prince Metternich surrounded him with
attentions, and the composer left Verona highly gratified with his
visit. But for a colossal statue placed just above the orchestra, which
shook with each musical vibration, and threatened to fall and crush the
conductor, Rossini's happiness at Verona would have been without alloy.
Before going to Vienna, Rossini had engaged to compose an opera for
Venice. He seems to have been determined to write no more for Italy, and
being much pressed by the director of the Fenice, thought to settle the
matter by asking an exorbitant price; but the enterprising manager was
not to be checked. The demand of a sum equivalent to about two hundred
pounds did not alarm him, and Rossini consented to furnish the opera.
In composing "Semiramide," the work destined for Venice, Rossini took
his time.
"It is the only one of my Italian operas," he afterwards said, "that I
was able to do a little at my ease; my contract gave me forty days,
but," he added, "I was not forty days writing it."
The Austrian and Russian emperors after leaving Verona went to Venice,
where they arrived just when Rossini was working at "Semiramide." Two
concerts were given in honour of the illustrious visitors at the
Imperial palace, under Rossini's direction. While the second concert was
going on, the two emperors, accompanied by Prince Metternich, asked the
maestro to sing, when he executed with Galli the duet from
"Cenerentola," to which he added _Figaro's_ air from the "Barber."
The first representation of "Semiramide" took place at the Fenice
Theatre on the 3rd of February, 1823, just ten years after the
production of his first great opera seria, "Tancredi," which was played
for the first time about the middle of the Carnival of 1813.
Madame Rossini-Colbran sustained the part of _Semiramide_, Madame
Mariani that of _Arsace_, Galli was _Assur_, Mariani, _Oroe_, and the
English tenor, Sinclair, _Idreno_. Of the two airs written for the
tenor, one only has been preserved. The other, like the trio of the
music lesson in the "Barber of Seville," is said to have been lost
through the fault of the copyist.
If "Semiramide" does not, like "Otello," "Mosè," and "La Donna del
Lago," present any novelty of treatment, it reproduces all the features
which were new in those three works. There is a leading part for the
bass voice; a secondary part, but one of great importance, for the
contralto (_Arsace_ is a lineal descendant of _Pippo_, the first of the
family); the chorus takes an active part in the drama; the recitative is
accompanied by the orchestra; there is a military band on the stage; and
there is a scene in which the chorus, the military band, and the
theatrical orchestra are heard in combination. These innovations are
once more specified to remind the reader of the progress Rossini had
made as a dramatic composer since his first Venetian opera of
"Tancredi."
"Semiramide," too, is as superior to "Tancredi" in vigour of style, in
richness of colouring, as in definable operatic forms.
This, the last of Rossini's Italian operas, cannot have been imperfectly
executed; Rossini had plenty of time for superintending the rehearsals,
and his singers were all admirable. Nevertheless the opera was not much
liked. It was conceived on too grand a scale, and Stendhal, apparently
by reason of the importance assigned to the orchestra, came to the
conclusion that it was written in the German style.
M. Castil-Blaze fancies Rossini knew beforehand that "Semiramide" would
not be appreciated, and that the piccolo in the accompaniment of
_Assur's_ air meant hisses for the Venetian public.
M. Azevedo points out that to please the Venetians, Rossini had
introduced the melody of the Carnival of Venice in the duet "Ebben
ferisce;" but neither instrumental hisses nor vocal compliments were of
any avail. The public did not by any means condemn "Semiramide," but
they found it rather heavy, and allowed it to fall. These instances of
bad taste are constantly occurring in the history of music.
Indeed, as to pure melody, who is to be the judge? Stendhal, the man of
taste, considers _Almaviva's_ cavatina in the "Barber of Seville" rather
common; and M. Fétis, who is a learned musician, does not think much of
_Matilde's_ air in "Guillaume Tell."
In any case, the Venetians found "Semiramide"
uninteresting--"Semiramide," which is full of beauty from beginning to
end; and Rossini had now one more motive for deciding to leave Italy and
try his fortune--that is to say, make his fortune--in France and
England.
PART III.
ROSSINI'S FRENCH CAREER.
CHAPTER I.
A VISIT TO LONDON--ROSSINI AND GEORGE IV.
Rossini until after his marriage never left Italy. But he then made up
his mind to travel, and one journey leads naturally to another. The
composer's visit to Vienna procured him the invitation to Verona, and at
Verona he was brought into contact with the ambassadors of all the
principal Powers in Europe.
And it must not be thought that ambassadors did not occupy themselves
very practically in those days with operatic matters. Mr. Ebers, in his
"Seven Years of the King's Theatre," tells us that on one occasion the
English ambassador at Paris exercised his influence to obtain the best
artists from that city. The Baron de la Ferté was about the same time
sent on a mission to London to reclaim some other artists, who had
stayed beyond the period of leave granted to them by the Académie
Royale; and a few years later it was through Prince Polignac, French
ambassador at London, that Rossini's engagement to direct the Italian
Opera at Paris was effected.
It was at Bologna, immediately after his return from Verona, that
Rossini received an invitation from the management of the King's Theatre
to pass the next season (from January to May, 1824) in London. A formal
engagement was at the same time proposed to him, by which the services
of himself as composer, and of his wife as singer, were secured.
* * * * *
The King's Theatre was then in the hands of Mr. Ebers, who has left an
interesting and instructive account of his operatic experience. The
out-going manager, like all his predecessors from the beginning, had
failed, and there was an execution in the theatre when Mr. Ebers
undertook to re-open it for the season of 1821. The new director, either
to give himself confidence or to inspire confidence in the subscribers
and general public, prevailed upon five noblemen to form a "Committee of
Superintendence;" but their duties do not seem to have been well
defined, and all the responsibilities of management rested with Mr.
Ebers.
Rossini must have had a good company to write for at the King's Theatre.
The singers engaged by Mr. Ebers, when he commenced his career as
manager in 1821, were Madame Camporese, Madame Vestris, Madame Ronzi de
Begnis; and MM. Ambrogetti, Angrisani, Begrez, and Curioni. Many if not
all these artistes were doubtless re-engaged at the end of the first
season, for we are told significantly enough that "it was considered
successful though the manager lost money by it;" and in 1824 the company
was further strengthened by the accession of Madame Pasta and Madame
Catalani.
During his first "successful" season Mr. Ebers lost seven thousand
pounds, when, by way of encouraging him, the proprietor, Mr. Chambers,
increased his rent from three thousand one hundred and eighty pounds to
ten thousand. Altogether from the beginning of 1821 to the end of 1827,
Mr. Ebers dropped money regularly every year; the smallest deficit in
the budget of any one season being that of the last, when the manager
thought himself fortunate to escape with a loss of not quite three
thousand pounds.
In England theatres do not receive "subventions" from the State; but in
support of opera, if not of other forms of the drama, enterprising
persons have always been found willing to lose from time to time a
little fortune. As a consequence of this happy infatuation the Italian
Opera in England, like England itself as a musical country, has always
had an excellent name with foreign artistes; and Rossini did not err in
anticipating for himself and wife a rich harvest from their united
efforts during the London season of 1824.
* * * * *
The reputation of Rossini in England was immense with the general public
and the great majority of dilettanti, though, as in Vienna and Paris,
critics could be found to deny his merit. The objections to his music
seem to have proceeded chiefly from persons who had become attached by
inveterate habit to works of an older school. Some, too, may have
complained of the constant preference given to his operas above those of
all other composers, from mere professional jealousy.
Still there was no musician at our Italian Opera to play towards Rossini
the part with which, as we shall afterwards see, Paer was credited in
Paris; and if our English composers ever injured Rossini it was not by
attacking him in print, nor by getting up intrigues against him, but by
taking him under their patronage, and presenting him to the public with
additions and adornments of their own.
"Tom" Cook, Mr. Rophino Lacy, Sir Henry Bishop, instead of undervaluing
distinguished foreign composers in the French style, were in the habit
of "adapting" and editing their works, introducing new airs into them,
and furnishing them with new overtures--the old ones not being good
enough.
However, at the King's Theatre Rossini's operas were produced in their
original Italian form; and Lord Mount Edgcumbe tells us that for many
years after the first introduction of Rossini's works into England, "so
entirely did he engross the stage, that the operas of no other master
were ever to be heard, with the exception only of those of Mozart; and
of his, only 'Don Giovanni' and 'Le Nozze de Figaro.' Every other
composer past and present was totally put aside, and these two alone
named or thought of."
Rossini then was at least admired in good company; but the admiration
generally felt for him was not entertained by the author just mentioned.
It has already been seen that Lord Mount Edgcumbe, who no doubt
represented a number of old amateurs, the dilettanti of a past age, was
by no means delighted with Rossini's brilliant style, nor, above all,
with his innovations in regard to form.
"The construction of these newly invented pieces," he justly remarks,
"is essentially different from the old. The dialogue," he
continues--with less justice--"which used to be carried on in
recitative, and which in Metastasio's operas is often so beautiful and
interesting, is now cut up (and rendered unintelligible if it were worth
listening to) into pezzi concertati, or long singing conversations,
which present a tedious succession of unconnected, ever-changing
motivos, having nothing to do with each other. Single songs are almost
exploded. Even the prima donna, who would formerly have complained at
having less than three or four airs allotted to her, is now satisfied
with one trifling cavatina for a whole evening."
The beauty of Lord Mount Edgcumbe's criticism is that his bare facts,
however absurdly he may qualify them, do in themselves possess a certain
amount of truth. It is only his feelings and opinions that are
erroneous. It is observable, too, that though he does not like the new
composer himself, he never attempts to deny Rossini's great success with
the public.
Mr. Ebers is equally explicit as to the popularity of Rossini just at
the time when he was expected in London. "Of all the operas," he says,
"produced from 1821 to 1828, nearly half were Rossini's, or in exact
numbers fourteen out of thirty-four;" and it must be remembered that the
majority of these were constantly repeated, whereas most of the others
were brought out only for a few nights and then laid aside.
* * * * *
The visit, then, of Rossini to London in 1824 was looked forward to by
all the musical and fashionable society of London with great interest,
and it doubtless had a happy effect on the subscription list at the
King's Theatre. On leaving Bologna Rossini took route to London through
Paris, where he arrived with his wife at the beginning of November. He
was received with much enthusiasm, though, as we shall afterwards see,
some unavailing attempts were made to persuade the public that he was,
after all, a very much over-rated man.
After remaining a month in Paris, whither he was to return a few months
later, Rossini started for England, and after a very bad passage,
arrived in London suffering from the combined effects of exhaustion and
a particularly bad cold.
He had only been a few minutes in his apartments when Count Lieven, the
Russian ambassador, was announced. The Count had called, on the part of
the king, to say that his Majesty wished to see Rossini before any one
else. It must be explained that Rossini had met the Countess Lieven at
Verona, and it is to be presumed that she had recommended him to her
husband.
The composer acknowledged this signal attention in becoming terms. The
state of his health did not allow him to profit forthwith by the king's
invitation, but he promised to inform his Majesty as soon as he got
better, and in the meanwhile to receive no visitors. He accordingly
remained in the house, and denied himself to every one.
Three days afterwards, feeling better, and his cold having disappeared,
Rossini started with Count Lieven for Brighton, and was presented to
George IV. at the Pavilion.
His Majesty was playing at cards with a lady. He received Rossini very
cordially, and invited him to take a hand at écarté, but the composer
modestly declined, saying that he would rather not have so powerful an
opponent. After a few minutes' conversation, which seems to have left a
very agreeable impression upon Rossini, the king asked him if he would
like to hear his band, and taking him by the arm, conducted him to the
concert-room.
When they reached the concert-room, the king said to Rossini that he
would now hear a piece of music which would perhaps not be to his
liking; "but," he continued, "I have only chosen the first piece. After
that the band will play whatever you wish."
The first piece must have been more or less to Rossini's taste, for it
was the overture to the "Barber of Seville." So, at least, says Mr.
Ebers. M. Azevedo says it was the overture to "La Gazza Ladra;" at all
events it was an overture by Rossini.
The maestro was pleased with the king's attention, and seems to have
thought the performance really good. He had in the meanwhile found out
from Mayer, the conductor of the orchestra, what were the king's
favourite pieces, and asked for them, pointing out during the execution
their characteristic beauties. Finally, he said to Mayer that he had
never heard "God save the King," except on the piano, and that he should
like to hear it performed by his excellent band. The king accepted this
as a return compliment for the choice of the overture, and was evidently
gratified.
Rossini used to say that Alexander I. of Russia, and George IV. of
England, were the two most amiable crowned heads he had ever met; and he
assured Ferdinand Hiller that "of the charm of George IV.'s personal
appearance and demeanour it was scarcely possible to form an idea."
* * * * *
During the progress of the concert in the music-hall of the Pavilion,
George IV. presented Rossini to all the principal personages of the
court; and the effect of this introduction from the sovereign himself
was shown in the formation of a committee of lady patronesses, who
organised two concerts at Almack's for Rossini's benefit at two guineas
a ticket.
All the principal singers in London offered Rossini their services, and
would not hear of remuneration. The orchestra, chorus, and copyists had
alone to be paid, and the receipts were enormous. The only thing that
displeased Rossini in the matter was the refusal of the highly exclusive
committee to give him some tickets for the artists who had offered him
their gratuitous assistance.
At the first concert Rossini produced a cantata, of which as little
seems to be known in the present day as of the Opera which he had
undertaken to write for the King's Theatre. The cantata was called
"Homage to Byron;" it was written for a single voice, chorus and
orchestra, and Rossini himself sang the solo. At a second concert he
joined the celebrated Madame Catalani in the duet "Se fiato" from "Il
Matrimonio Segretto," and both in the solo and in the duet was
enthusiastically applauded.
Of course, too, Madame Rossini-Colbran took part in these concerts, the
attractiveness of which was further increased by the co-operation of
Madame Catalani, Madame Pasta, Curioni, the tenor, Placci, the bass, and
all the principal singers of the King's Theatre.
* * * * *
It is satisfactory to know that Rossini preserved some agreeable
recollections of his visit to London. He told Ferdinand Hiller that
until he went to England, he was never able to save a farthing; and it
was something, after all, to gain there in four months more than he had
gained in Italy during his whole career.
"From the beginning," he said,[30] "I had an opportunity of observing
how disproportionately singers were paid in comparison with composers.
If the composer got fifty ducats, the singer received a thousand.
Italian operatic composers might formerly write heaven knows how many
operas, and yet only be able to exist miserably. Things hardly went
otherwise with myself until my appointment under Barbaja."
"'Tancredi' was your first opera which really made a great hit, maestro;
how much did you get for it?"
"Five hundred francs," replied Rossini; "and when I wrote my last
Italian opera, 'Semiramide,' and stipulated for five thousand francs, I
was looked upon, not by the impresario alone, but by the entire public,
as a kind of pickpocket."
"You have the consolation of knowing," said Hiller, "that singers,
managers, and publishers have been enriched by your means."
"A fine consolation," replied Rossini. "Except during my stay in
England, I never gained sufficient by my art to be enabled to put by
anything; and even in London I did not get money as a composer, but as
an accompanyist."
"But still," observed Hiller, "that was because you were a celebrated
composer."
"That is what my friends said," replied Rossini, "to decide me to do it.
It may have been prejudice, but I had a kind of repugnance to being paid
for accompanying on the piano, and I have only done so in London.
However, people wanted to see the tip of my nose, and to hear my wife. I
had fixed for our co-operation at musical soirées the tolerably high
price of fifty pounds--we attended somewhere about sixty such soirées,
and that was after all worth having. In London, too, musicians will do
anything to get money, and some delicious facts came under my
observation there. For instance, the first time that I undertook the
task of accompanyist at a soirée of this description, I was informed
that Puzzi, the celebrated horn-player, and Dragonetti, the more
celebrated contrebassist, would also be present. I thought they would
perform solos; not a bit of it! They were to assist me in accompanying.
'Have you, then, your parts to accompany these pieces?' I asked them.
"'Not we,' was their answer; 'but we get well paid, and we accompany as
we think fit.'
"These extemporaneous attempts at instrumentation struck me as rather
dangerous, and I therefore begged Dragonetti to content himself with
giving a few pizzicatos, when I winked at him and Puzzi to strengthen
the final cadenzas with a few notes, which, as a good musician, as he
was, he easily invented for the occasion. In this manner things went off
without any disastrous results, and every one was pleased."
"Delicious," exclaimed Hiller. "Still it strikes me that the English
have made great progress in a musical point of view. At the present time
a great deal of good music is performed in London--it is well performed,
and listened to attentively--that is to say, at public concerts. In
private drawing-rooms music still plays a sorry part, and a great number
of individuals, totally devoid of talent, give themselves airs of
incredible assurance, and impart instruction on subjects of which their
knowledge amounts to about nothing."
"I knew in London a certain X., who had amassed a large fortune as a
teacher in singing and the pianoforte," said Rossini, "while all he
understood was to play a little, most wretchedly, on the flute. There
was another man, with an immense connection, who did not even know the
notes. He employed an accompanyist, to beat into his head the pieces he
afterwards taught, and to accompany him in his lessons; but he had a
good voice."
CHAPTER II.
ROSSINI'S OPERA FOR THE KING'S THEATRE.
During that season of 1824, which, at the King's Theatre was so
"successful," that Mr. Ebers lost only seven thousand pounds, there
certainly was no lack of money among the amateurs of London, for Madame
Catalani, between the months of January and May, realised as much as ten
thousand pounds, while Rossini and his wife are said to have gained
seven thousand pounds--just what Mr. Ebers lost.
The small gains of the composer, and the large gains of the singer, have
often been contrasted. But what a contrast is offered by the singer's
large gains and the manager's large losses! A book, entitled "Operatic
Martyrs," might be written, showing how many fortunes have been lost,
and who have lost them, in carrying on the struggle so gallantly
maintained in England during the last century and a half in support of
Italian Opera.
In Handel's time, when opera was first set going in this country, the
king, the court, certain members of the aristocracy, would subscribe to
give the unfortunate manager some little chance--to give him, at least,
enough "law" to prevent his being run down before the end of the season.
When the English nobility became tired of offering their very modest
contributions in support of art, the manager still went on failing; but
rich dilettante speculators were found ready to throw their treasures
into the gulf--Mr. Caldas, a wine merchant; Mr. Ebers, a librarian; Mr.
Chambers, a banker; Mr. Delafield, a brewer.
Indeed, nothing is more certain than that opera as a speculation must
always fail in England,--except that fresh operatic speculators will
always be found ready to fail again.
The reason of these constant collapses may be explained by simple
arithmetic. The English managers, without a subvention and with heavy
rent to pay, have to make their remuneration to artistes at least equal
to that of foreign managers who have no rent to pay, and are in the
receipt of a heavy subvention.
For instance, in Mr. Ebers's time, the manager of the Italian Opera of
Paris was in a better position than the manager of the Italian Opera in
London by fifteen thousand pounds a season, or three thousand seven
hundred and fifty pounds a month.
Mr. Ebers paid ten thousand pounds a year for the King's
Theatre--practically, ten thousand pounds for a term or season of four
months.
The manager of the Italian Opera in Paris paid no rent, and received a
subvention of one hundred and twenty thousand francs, or four thousand
eight hundred pounds.
The expenses, then, of the English manager were greater than those of
the French manager by nearly fifteen thousand pounds, and he had to
spend at least as much as his competitor (in fact, rather more,) in
salaries to singers and musicians.
The prices of admission were, it is true, considerably higher in London
than in Paris, as they are now; but to induce the public to pay these
prices, it has always been found necessary to engage an unusually large
number of first-rate artistes for London. In fine, the English manager
has to spend more money in salaries than the French manager; he has a
heavy rent to pay, and he receives no assistance from the government. If
Mr. Ebers, in the year 1824, had been in the same position as the
manager of the Italian Opera in Paris, instead of losing seven thousand
pounds, he would have gained about eight thousand.
The position of the English manager relatively to that of foreign
managers (not only in Paris, but in St. Petersburgh, Berlin, Vienna,
&c.) remains in principle the same. He is weighted in the race, and
always ends by ruining himself, or his backers, or both.--_Bankrupturus
vos salutat_ is the fitting motto of the British impresario on entering
the managerial arena.
* * * * *
However, it is not true, as M. Azevedo imagines, that the manager of the
King's Theatre was so unsuccessful the year of Rossini's visit, that he
could not get through the season. On the contrary, we have seen that Mr.
Ebers got through triumphantly--with the loss of only seven thousand
pounds. He did not, according to the announcement made to the public,
bring out Rossini's opera; but it is not at all certain that in this
matter Rossini himself was not to blame.
Indeed, the history of the opera Rossini was to compose for London, and
of which he certainly finished one act, is very imperfect: and we have
an English and a French version of the matter, which are, in some
points, quite contradictory.
M. Azevedo says, that the libretto was entitled "La Figlia dell'Aria;"
that Rossini was to receive six thousand francs for the opera, in three
instalments; that he completed and delivered the first act; that he was
unable to get paid for it; and that the manuscript was still at the
King's Theatre when he quitted London, after empowering a friend to take
proceedings for its recovery--in spite of which, it seems never
afterwards to have been heard of.
But Mr. Ebers being manager of the King's Theatre at the time, must have
known something about the matter, and according to his version the opera
was entitled "Ugo re d'Italia," and the only defaulter was Rossini, who
did not supply it according to his agreement.
Mr. Ebers says that Rossini had promised at the beginning of the season
in January, to compose the work; but that after it had been repeatedly
announced for performance, it appeared at the end of May that it was
"only half finished."
That is to say, the first act was finished, on the delivery of which,
Rossini should have received his second instalment.
But Rossini had at this time, says Mr. Ebers, quarrelled with the
management [cause not given], and accepted the post of director at the
Italian Opera of Paris; and he adds, that the score of the opera, or
rather of the first act, was deposited with Messrs. Ransom, the bankers.
To finish the story, Messrs. Ransom, asked by the present writer for
information on the subject, declare that they never had a score of
Rossini's in their possession.
It would appear, then, that an entire act by Rossini got somehow lost in
London, and it will have been observed, that there is a discrepancy
between the English and French versions of the affair as to the title of
the missing work. M. Azevedo, M. Félix Clement, and the French
biographers of Rossini, generally call it "La Figlia dell'Aria." Mr.
Ebers, who says it was actually announced for representation, calls it
"Ugo re d'Italia."
To make the matter still more confused, not "Ugo," but "Ottone re
d'Italia" appears in Zanolini's catalogue as the title of one of
Rossini's complete operas, and this "Ottone re d'Italia" is said by M.
Azevedo to be nothing more than "Adelaida di Borgogna" under another
name.
* * * * *
The general result, then, of Rossini's visit to London may be thus
summed up. As a composer he did worse than nothing; for he wrote an
entire act, which was lost, or which at least he was never able to
recover. He also produced "Zelmira," with his wife in the principal
part; but the music, though greatly admired by connoisseurs, made no
impression on the public.
The other feature in the result was the seven thousand pounds; but
though this sum may have given Rossini a high idea of English
liberality, the general inability to appreciate "Zelmira," and the
bungling or bad faith manifested in connection with his opera, "Ugone re
d'Italia," or "La Figlia dell'Aria,"--whichever it was,--must have made
him think but poorly of England as an artistic country.
CHAPTER III.
ROSSINI IN PARIS.
Rossini's journey to London was not merely an excursion from Paris. But
he started from Paris to come to London; he returned to Paris as soon as
he had made his seven thousand pounds, and, owing, no doubt, to his
horror of sea water, never paid us the compliment of calling again.
M. Castil-Blaze, whose works on musical subjects are full of interesting
information, but quite without order, tells us somewhere that large sums
were offered to Rossini if he would only put on the jacket of _Figaro_
and appear at the Italian Opera of London in his own immortal "Barber."
But this proposition was not likely to suit Rossini, and it is even to
be feared that concert singing was not altogether to his taste, though
he managed to go through a certain amount of it when he was in London,
in consideration of the few hundreds a week that it brought him.
Nor was he above giving lessons during this brief but lucrative visit to
England; and a story is told of his having once accompanied the vocal
efforts of George IV. himself. The king made a mistake and was about to
stop, but as Rossini went on he did the same. He afterwards spoke of
having got into the wrong key, and of Rossini's continuing to play as
though nothing had happened.
"It was my duty to accompany your Majesty," replied Rossini. "I am ready
to follow you wherever you may go."
* * * * *
Before coming to London Rossini had been uncertain whether to return to
Paris or not. At least he had not accepted a proposition made to him by
the Duke de Lauriston to undertake the direction of the Italian Opera in
Paris. He agreed to it, however, when the offer was renewed to him in
London by Prince Polignac, the French ambassador, and it was made the
basis of a formal contract, which Rossini signed in the prince's
presence.
Rossini's arrival in the French capital was the signal for the renewal
of disputes as to the merit of his music compared with the good old
national music of the country he had come to reside in. It was a feeble
attempt to get up the same sort of feud which had divided all Paris when
an attempt was made to introduce Italian Opera seventy years before.
Until the end of the eighteenth century the French were unable to
understand, or unwilling to acknowledge, the immense superiority of the
Italians in everything pertaining to music; and in 1752 the performance
of Pergolese's "Serva Padrona" by an Italian company caused a series of
pitched battles between the partisans of French and Italian opera, the
end of which was that "La Serva Padrona" was hissed, and the two singers
who appeared in it driven from Paris.
As the French, however, progressed in the study and knowledge of music,
so did they progress in their appreciation of the music of the Italians;
and the little cabal got up against Rossini when he went to Paris in the
year 1824, had no power to injure him.
But Rossini's relations with the Parisians had commenced in December the
year previous. Before coming to London he had passed a month in Paris,
during which time the sentiments of the musicians and amateurs of France
towards their illustrious visitor had manifested themselves clearly
enough. A representation of the "Barber of Seville" was given in
Rossini's honour immediately after his arrival. The composer on
appearing in the theatre was received with great demonstrations of
enthusiasm, and at the end of the first act was called on to the
stage--at that time a novel and distinguished compliment. In the music
lesson scene, Garcia pronounced with significant emphasis the words
"Giovvane di gran genio!" which was the signal for renewed applause.
A dinner was given to Rossini a few days afterwards, at which Auber,
Hérold, Boieldieu, Garcia, Horace Vernet, Madame Pasta, Mademoiselle
Mars, and other artistic celebrities were present.
The toasts were interesting and characteristic. Lesueur, the greatest
composer of the French school, began by proposing the health of Rossini,
"whose ardent genius has opened a new road and marked a new epoch in
musical art."
Rossini replied by proposing "The French school and the prosperity of
the Conservatoire;" and the formal, indispensable toasts having been
disposed of, Lesueur drank to Glück, Boieldieu to Méhul, Hérold to
Paisiello, Auber to Cimarosa, and Rossini to Mozart.
M. Scribe, then just beginning his career, made the banquet to Rossini
the subject of a vaudeville, called "Rossini à Paris, ou le Grand
Diner." Rossini was invited to attend the rehearsal, and if any passages
in the work displeased him to point them out. He went to the rehearsal,
but nothing seems to have displeased him except the airs to which the
vaudeville couplets were sung.
"If that is their national music," he said, "I shall do no good here,
and may as well pack up my things at once."
It was a proof of good nature on the part of Rossini, better still of
good sense, not to be offended by the vaudeville of which his arrival in
Paris had been made the subject, and which, by the way, seems to have
been the model of fifty similar works, showing how a man coming home
from a masquerade may be mistaken for a true Eastern prince, a chorus
singer for a great prima donna, a Quaker bearing the name of a
prize-fighter, for the prize-fighter himself, &c., &c.
The piece entitled "Rossini à Paris" caused a good deal of excitement.
There was a strong "national" party in the house, who wanted to know why
an Italian composer should be set above composers of French origin (a
mystery which Auber, Hérold, and Boieldieu could easily have explained),
and who were pleased to see the enthusiastic admirers of Rossini
exhibited as grotesque fanatics. On the other hand, many of Rossini's
friends, taking perhaps an unduly serious view of a piece of pleasantry,
thought that M. Scribe had treated the great composer with too much
levity.
* * * * *
A great deal has been said about the intrigues against Rossini, and the
attacks made upon his music in the newspapers on his first arrival in
Paris. Writers in the present day are astonished that writers in that
day should have been so unjust. Musicians are not astonished that
writers at any time should have been so ignorant.
After reading the extracts from the journals of the period, given by
Stendhal, and by M. Azevedo, it is easy to see that Rossini was not
nearly so ill-treated as is generally supposed; and it is worth noticing
that the most important and persistent of the adverse criticisms and all
the organised hostility proceeded from musicians. Indeed it is difficult
to understand how any man with a natural taste for music, and a more or
less cultivated ear, unless hampered by professional prejudices or
professional interests, would not be charmed by the music of Rossini.
Among the enemies of Rossini in Paris were a few obscure journalists,
who held absurd theories on the subject of French music and Italian
music, music which appealed only to the senses, and music which appealed
to the heart, &c.; but the chief of the cabal were Berton, the composer
of "Montano et Stéphanie," and Paer, the then celebrated Italian
composer, who held the office of musical conductor at the Italian Opera
of Paris.
Berton may have been quite sincere in not liking the brilliant dramatic
music of the young Italian maestro, and he doubtless found sincere
supporters among elderly amateurs, whose admiration for the milder and
more meagre music of a previous age was connected with all sorts of
impressions and associations of their youth. The music of Paisiello and
Cimarosa was the music of their first love. Now when they went to hear
Rossini's music the gout troubled them.
As for Berton, who was treated by the Rossinists of the period as
nothing less than a malefactor, and who was certainly of a mean and
envious disposition, he began by criticising the music of the new and
rising composer, severely, no doubt, and, in an artistic sense,
unjustly; but it was not until he had been provoked by rejoinders--it
was in the heat of discussion--that he uttered his grand absurdity, "que
M. Rossini ne serait jamais qu'un petit discoureur en musique." Stendhal
quotes a letter of Berton's from "L'Abeille," in which the worst that
the French composer of the past has to say against the Italian composer
of the present and the future is what follows:--
"M. Rossini has a brilliant imagination, verve, originality, great
fecundity; but he knows that he is not always pure and correct; and,
whatever certain persons may say, purity of style is not to be
disdained, and faults of syntax are never excusable. Besides, since the
writers of our daily journals constitute themselves judges in music,
having qualified myself by 'Montano,' 'Le Délire,' 'Aline,' &c., I think
I have the right to give my opinion ex professo. I give it frankly and
sign it, which is not done by certain persons who strive incognito to
make and unmake reputations. All this has been suggested only by the
love of art and in the interest of M. Rossini himself. This composer is
beyond contradiction the most brilliant talent that Italy has produced
since Cimarosa; but one may deserve to be called celebrated without
being on an equality with Mozart."
To understand the position and attitude of Berton in the war which for a
time raged in Paris on the subject of Rossini's merit, it is necessary
to remember that the praise lavished upon the Italian composer was not
only extravagant in regard to Rossini himself (which might be excused as
the natural product of enthusiasm), but also unjust to other composers.
Berton, with all his love for art in the abstract, thought no doubt much
more of his own reputation than of the reputation of Mozart; but
Boieldieu seems also to have thought that the "Rossinists" were carrying
their idolatry rather too far.
"The French Rossinists," says Boieldieu, in a letter dated 1823,[31]
"want to put us completely under the feet of their idol. But the Italian
Rossinists, and Rossini himself, are more just. He has no need of that
to raise himself; his great talent will always put him in his proper
place. If people would be reasonable, they would do in musical matters
what is done in literature and in painting; it is possible to have
Dante, and Tasso, and others, in the same library, and to admire Rubens
and Raphael in the same gallery. Honour to Rossini, but honour also to
Mozart, Glück, Cimarosa, &c. Rossini, with whom I have conversed a great
deal, is quite of the same way of thinking. He has made a style of his
own by taking, from other styles, examples which have guided him."
Indeed, Boieldieu, Hérold, Auber, were all fervent admirers of Rossini,
and all to a certain extent adopted him as a model. Hérold was "_maestro
al piano_" at the Italian theatre of Paris when Rossini was director,
and may almost be said to have studied under him. The influence of
Rossini upon Auber was equally remarkable. With regard to Auber's
personal opinion of Rossini, and of his sentiments towards him when
Rossini first visited Paris, the following passage[32] from a highly
interesting memoir of Auber, by M. Jouvin (well known to readers of the
Paris _Figaro_), may be quoted:--
"M. Auber has told me," says M. Jouvin, "how he met Rossini for the
first time at a dinner given by Carafa in honour of his illustrious
compatriot. On rising from table the maestro, at the request of his
host, went to the piano and sang _Figaro's_ cavatina, 'Largo al fattotum
della cita.'
"I shall never forget," said M. Auber to me, "the effect produced by his
lightning-like execution. Rossini had a very beautiful baritone voice,
and he sang his music with a spirit and verve which neither Pellegrini,
nor Galli, nor Lablache approached in the same part. As for his art as
an accompanyist, it was marvellous; it was not on a keyboard, but on an
orchestra that the vertiginous hands of the pianist seemed to gallop.
When he had finished I looked mechanically at the ivory keys; I fancied
I could see them smoking. On arriving home I felt much inclined to throw
my scores into the fire. 'It will warm them, perhaps,' I said to myself;
'besides, what is the use of composing music, if one cannot compose like
Rossini?'"
With Auber, Hérold, and Boieldieu on his side, it does not matter much
what the views of any other of the French composers may have been.
As for Paer, the director of the Italian theatre, his position did not
allow him to express any opinion publicly on the works of the rival by
whose fame his own had already been eclipsed. But that position gave
him, as we shall afterwards see, the opportunity of carrying on war
against him in a much more practical manner. Paer possessed the right of
keeping back Rossini's operas, of presenting them as he thought fit, and
finally, of producing, as if in contrast, works by other composers, whom
Rossini's adverse critics declared to be altogether his superiors.
* * * * *
Some years later, a few nights after the production of "Guillaume Tell,"
a serenade was given to Rossini, by the artists of the Opera, under the
direction of Habeneck, the _chef d'orchestre_. Méry, in the preface to
his French version of "Semiramide," has given a lively description of
the scene.
"Habeneck," he says, "conducted his army on to the boulevard, and made
it execute the overture to 'Guillaume Tell.' Soulié, the charming
writer of 'La Quotidienne,' had brought up a crowd of Royalists; Armand
Marrast, Carrel, Rabbe, and myself, represented the Liberal journals.
The applause shook the windows on the boulevard; and the enthusiasm
became really frantic when Levasseur, Nourrit, and Dabadie, sang the
trio of the oath.
"Boieldieu, that musician of genius and of heart, who lodged in the same
house, went down to Rossini and embraced him.
"Paer and Berton sat at the Café des Variétés, taking an ice, and saying
to one another, in a duet, 'Art is lost!'"
* * * * *
Why, it may be asked, does Méry point out that Rossini's music, in the
year 1829, was applauded both by Royalists and Liberals?
The explanation is, that the question of Rossini's merit had become, to
a certain extent, a political question, like the disputes between the
Gluckists and the Piccinnists; and at an earlier period (1752) between
the supporters of Italian and the supporters of French music.
Shortly before the French Revolution of 1789, the party of Marie
Antoinette believed only in Gluck, while the party of Madame Dubarry
swore by Piccinni.
During the Restoration and until the Revolution of 1830, it was the sign
of a good royalist to praise Rossini's music, and a sign of liberalism
to condemn it. This had nothing whatever to do with Rossini's own
political opinions, which were never very marked. But Rossini's music
and the romantic school of poetry and painting were classed together,
and the romantic school, with Victor Hugo, Lamartine, and Alfred de
Vigny at its head, began by being royalist.
Balzac describes somewhere a hero of this period as devoted to "Byron's
poetry, Géricault's painting, Rossini's music;" and persons who
entertained these tastes were looked upon as Royalists, and denounced
accordingly by the Liberals.
It was absurd, but so it was. Of course, too, there were limits to the
absurdity; and it must have been near its end when Armand Carrel went
out on the boulevard to applaud the overture to "Guillaume Tell."
CHAPTER IV.
ROSSINI AND HIS CRITICS.
"Now I think of it," said Rossini, a great many years afterwards, to
Ferdinand Hiller, "what was not written against me when I went to Paris!
Old Berton even made verses on me, and called me 'Signor Crescendo' in
them. But it all blew over without injury to life or limb."
Rossini was too philosophical, and, without being in the least vain, was
sufficiently conscious, no doubt, of his own talent to care much what
was thought of his music either by ordinary critics or by the general
public. At the first performance of the "Barber," when everyone was
hissing, he turned round and applauded.
He himself said that he was tolerably calm at a success as well as at a
failure; "and for this," he added, "I have to thank an impression I
received in my earliest youth, and which I shall never forget. Before
my first operetta was brought out I was present at the performance of a
one-act opera by Simon Mayer. Mayer was then the hero of the day, and
had produced in Venice perhaps twenty operas with the greatest success.
In spite of this, however, the public treated him on the evening to
which I refer as if he had been some ignorant young vagabond; you cannot
form an idea of such a piece of grossness. I was really astounded. Is it
thus that you recompense a man who for so many years has produced you
enjoyment? Dare you take such a liberty because you have paid two or
three paoli for admittance? If such is the case, it is not worth while
to take your judgment to heart, I thought; and I have always acted as
much as possible in conformity with that opinion."
In regard to printed criticism, he showed himself more considerate to
critics than critics sometimes showed themselves to him. When Weber was
passing through Paris, in 1826, on his way to London, he called on
Rossini, but hesitated before doing so on the ground that a dozen years
before he had published a hostile criticism on "Tancredi."
Instead of feeling any resentment, Rossini said that if he had only
known when he was twenty-one that a foreign composer had taken any
notice of "Tancredi" he should certainly have felt very much flattered
by the attention.
But the malicious Berton did not confine himself to criticising
Rossini's music, he attempted to cast ridicule on Rossini personally,
whom he called, among other facetious nicknames, "Signor Vacarmini," and
"Signor Crescendo." This could not please Rossini, but he did not mind
the impertinence very much.
Rossini had, of course, been preceded in Paris by his reputation, and
his reputation by his music. But it was not until the public had learned
its true superiority from the very manoeuvre which Paer had adopted in
order to demonstrate its worthlessness that Rossini's music was accepted
by the Parisians at anything like its value.
"L'Italiana in Algeri" had already been played in Paris, in the year
1817, when Garcia, the original _Almaviva_, proposed that the "Barber"
should be produced for his benefit.
Publishers were not so expeditious then as they are now in getting out
the scores of new operas, and the music of the "Barber" had not at that
time been engraved, or at least not in a complete form. Garcia, however,
had provided himself with a manuscript copy, and in spite of repeated
objections from Paer and others, continued to request that the work
might be put into rehearsal.
The first reply with which Garcia was met is worth recording. The
directors of the Italian Opera of Paris informed him that "only
masterpieces could be performed at their theatre, and that "Il
Barbiere," a work of secondary merit, by an author almost unknown, was
not worthy of being presented to the Parisian public."
Garcia, however, was of a different opinion; and in renewing his
engagement for the year following, made it a special condition that the
"Barber" should be brought out. Accordingly in the autumn of the
following year, 1819, this "work of secondary merit" was actually
represented.
The audience _must_ have been delighted; but several critics were not.
One thought that _Figaro's_ cavatina was "wanting in character!" and
added, with super-journalistic absurdity, that "the composer might have
made much more out of the air of "La Calunnia." Another said of it that
"its success would serve to enhance that of "Agnese," a very celebrated
opera of that day by Paer; a third, that Paisiello's "Barber" ought to
be given, and with particular care, so that the triumph of the old
master over his competitor "might be rendered not more sure, but more
striking."
The hint was meant to be acted upon, and Paisiello's veteran "Barber,"
supported only by stringed instruments, was brought out to crush the
vigorous young "Barber" of Rossini, full of life, and with musical
instruments of all kinds to depend upon. Paisiello had been the
favourite Italian composer of the Empire (the Emperor, according to
Paisiello's own naive observation, liked his music "because it did not
prevent his thinking of other things);" but his "Barber" had grown old
and feeble apparently, without anyone suspecting the change.
Three times this respectable but unattractive musical invalid was
brought forth; the third time there was scarcely anyone to meet him; and
Paisiello's "Barber" was not heard of again, until, only a few years
ago, he was introduced to the public of "Les Fantaisies Parisiennes,"
not as the possible competitor of anyone, but merely as an interesting
relic of a past age.
In the meanwhile Rossini's "Barber" had been reproduced, to be followed
by "Il Turco in Italia," "La Pietra del Paragone," and "La Gazza Ladra."
With the general public Rossini's music was now in the highest favour,
and "La Gazza Ladra," like "Il Barbiere," drew crowded audiences.
The late M. Berlioz, whose antipathy to Rossini's music was so great as
to be absolutely unintelligible to those who have not heard M. Berlioz's
music, had not at that time the ear--I mean, of course, the literary
ear--of the French public. Otherwise, without delaying Rossini's
triumph, he certainly would have increased the number of Rossini's
enemies.
"If," he afterwards said, "it had been in my power to place a barrel of
powder under the Salle Louvois and blow it up, during the representation
of "La Gazza Ladra" or "Il Barbiere," with all that it contained, I
certainly should not have failed to do so."
This was worse than the young Milanese drumhater, who wished to murder
Rossini, but Rossini only, for his overture to "La Gazza Ladra."
Rossini insisted on being introduced to the eccentric student of Milan.
Had he known of Berlioz's existence he would have wanted to cultivate
his intimate acquaintance.
CHAPTER V.
ROSSINI AT THE ITALIAN OPERA OF PARIS.
The ingenious Berton, in his anti-Rossinian pamphlet entitled "De la
Musique mécanique et de la Musique philosophique," relates how he once
asked Maelzel, the metronomist, whether he could construct a machine to
compose music; to which Maelzel replied that he could, but that the
music so composed would be like that of Rossini, and not up to the mark
of Sacchini, Cimarosa and Mozart.
Somehow Maelzel abstained from proving his terrible power; but Berton
boasted that his friend possessed it, and argued therefrom that
Rossini's music could not be anything very sublime, but on the contrary,
must be essentially mechanical.
But Berton ceased this folly when Rossini arrived in Paris, and even
showed a disposition to treat him with civility and respect. He is said
to have secretly endeavoured to keep up the national cry against the
composer; but the verses about "Signor Vacarmini" and "Signor Crescendo"
were written while Rossini was still in Italy.
Paer, too, saw that the time had gone by for describing Rossini's operas
as "works of secondary importance." He was accused long afterwards of
doing his best to undermine Rossini's reputation as a great musician,
but, as it seems to me, without sufficient proof. In these musical
feuds, in which perhaps the opposing parties are irreconcileable in
proportion as the ground of difference between them is incapable of
being defined, every sort of meanness is attributed by one side to the
other as a matter of course.
Rossini made Berton's acquaintance in Paris, and must have had frequent
relations with Paer at the Italian Opera, of which he at last assumed
the direction.
In this matter Rossini behaved with great consideration towards his
jealous rival. He positively declined to displace Paer, and on being
pressed to accept the post of director, consented to do so only on
condition of Paer's remaining at the theatre without a diminution of
salary, but, on the contrary, with a slight increase.
The salary payable to Rossini from the Civil List, in virtue of his
office as Director of the Italian Theatre, was twenty thousand francs a
year. The engagement was for eighteen months.
* * * * *
Rossini not only knew his work well and practically as director of an
orchestra, but was also thoroughly versed in all the duties of manager.
He began his artistic life as conductor. When he was a boy at the Lyceum
of Bologna, he got up a quartet of stringed instruments, and
superintended the production of some important orchestral pieces.
"You should have been present," he once said, "when I directed the
performance of the 'Creation' at the Liceo; I did not let the executants
miss a single point, for I knew every note by heart."
As for the details of management, though M. Fétis thinks Rossini must
have been incapable of descending to such things, he assured Hiller that
when he was at the San Carlo he attended to all Barbaja's affairs, great
and small, so that not a bill was paid until he had countersigned it.
In Paris so much could scarcely have been required of him. But it seems
so improbable that a composer like Rossini should also be a good
manager, that many persons, with that comprehensively inaccurate writer,
M. Fétis, among the number, have at once concluded that he must have
neglected his work.
He was, of course, not expected to wait "in the front of the house" to
see that the public were provided with proper accommodation. His
business was to bring out new singers, to produce new operas, and
especially his own; and there was, naturally, no one in Europe who could
discharge these duties in so advantageous a manner as Rossini.
In fact, he engaged his old friend, Esther Mombelli, the first of his
prima donnas, for "La Cenerentola," in which her success surpassed that
of the original heroine, Madame Giorgi-Righetti; he brought over from
Italy two of the most celebrated tenors of the day, Donzelli and Rubini;
he appointed Herold _maestro al piano_; he produced Meyerbeer's
"Crociato," his own "Otello," and "Donna del Lago;" and finally he
composed specially for the theatre "Il Viaggio a Reims," the chief
portion of which was afterwards reproduced in that charming work, "Le
Comte Ory."
"Il Viaggio a Reims," an occasional piece composed in honour of Charles
X.'s coronation, was, nominally, in only one act, but the act was a long
one. It lasted three hours; it contained fifteen or sixteen pieces,
including a ballet; and it was divided into three parts. The execution
must have been admirable, the characters being assigned to Mesdames
Pasta, Esther Mombelli and Cinti; MM. Donzelli, Zuchelli, Levasseur,
Bordogni, Pellegrini, and Graziani.
The music of "Il Viaggio a Reims," if we except the numerous important
pieces transferred to "Le Comte Ory," is now only known by report. In
the ballet music a duet for two clarinets was particularly remarked.
There were two elaborate finales (for a piece in one act a fair
supply!), and in the second finale the national airs of nearly all the
countries in Europe were introduced. Prominent among them was, of
course, the French royalist air, "Vive Henri Quatre," which was
harmonised in the most varied manner, and presented finally with an
elaborate and quasi-religious accompaniment for the harp.