in 1825, was revived, with some necessary alterations in the libretto,
to celebrate the proclamation of a republic in 1848. It was a droll
idea, but it seems to have been adopted and carried out without the
slightest satirical intention. "Andiamo a Parigi" the piece was called.
In "Il Viaggio a Reims," some people in an inn are talking about the
coronation, and arrange to make a journey to Reims to see the ceremony.
In "Andiamo a Parigi" some people in an inn are talking about the
Revolution, and arrange to make a journey to Paris to see the
barricades.
The Viscount de la Rochefoucauld, as director of the "Civil List,"
offered Rossini the present of a large sum of money; but the composer,
considering himself already sufficiently well paid, and wishing perhaps
that the opera should be looked upon as a homage from him to the French
nation and sovereign, declined to accept it. Thereupon a service of
Sèvres china was sent to him on the part of the king.
* * * * *
Rossini, too, caused Malibran to be re-engaged (she had appeared at
Paris some years previously, before the full development of her talent,
in "Torwaldo e Dorliska"), and introduced to the French public Sontag
and Pisaroni, who appeared together in "Tancredi;" Galli, Lablache, and
Tamburini. It was Rossini, too, who discovered and brought out Giulia
Grisi.
In fact, he raised the Théâtre Italien of Paris to the position of the
first Italian Opera in Europe.
* * * * *
Soon after the production of "Il Viaggio," Rossini brought out
"Semiramide" and "Zelmira." Indeed, during the eighteen months over
which his contract extended, he made the French acquainted with all his
greatest works. Add to this that he wrote an entirely new opera for
Paris, and that he was the means of introducing Meyerbeer, both through
his works and in person, and the sum total of Rossini's doings at the
Théâtre Italien will not seem insignificant.
The French public knew nothing of Meyerbeer's music; it is true he had
not written much besides "Emma di Rosburgo" and "Il Crociato," when
Rossini undertook the production of the latter work at the Théâtre
Italien. As soon as the opera was nearly ready, he asked the Viscount
de la Rochefoucauld to invite the composer to attend the last
rehearsals; and it was really in consequence of Rossini's express
recommendation that Meyerbeer came to Paris.
Rossini was equally the means of bringing Bellini, Donizetti and
Mercadante to France. To Bellini in particular he was the kindest
possible friend, as may be judged from the following letter, addressed
to Rossini by Bellini's father, just after the young man's death.
"You always encouraged the object of my eternal regret in his labours,"
wrote the unhappy father; "you took him under your protection; you
neglected nothing that could increase his glory and his welfare. After
my son's death, what have you not done to honour his memory and render
it dear to posterity! I learnt this from the newspapers; and I am
penetrated with gratitude for your excessive kindness, as well as for
that of a number of distinguished artistes, which also I shall never
forget. Pray, sir, be my interpreter, and tell these artistes, that the
father and family of Bellini, as well as our compatriots of Catania,
will cherish an imperishable recollection of this generous conduct. I
shall never cease to remember how much you did for my son; I shall make
known everywhere in the midst of my tears what an affectionate heart
belongs to the great Rossini; and how kind, hospitable, full of feeling
are the artistes of France."
CHAPTER VI.
ROSSINI AT THE ACADÉMIE.
Rossini's engagement as director of the Théâtre Italien came to an end
in 1826; but he continued to take part in its management, and rendered
great services by his recommendations of singers and composers.
He continued, also, to receive twenty thousand francs a year from the
Civil List; and as it was necessary this pension, for such it really
was, should be assigned to him in consideration of certain official
duties, he was named "Inspector of Singing."
One would have thought "auditor" a better word; but the appointment was
chiefly a pretext for keeping Rossini in France, where it was understood
that he was to compose a series of works for the French Opera.
Looking back, it is from the date of this new contract that Rossini's
French career would seem to commence. As director of the Théâtre
Italien, he had already produced one work; but all the principal pieces
in that opera were afterwards transferred to the "Comte Ory" composed
for the Académie.
* * * * *
Without thoroughly changing his style, Rossini certainly modified it in
writing for the French stage. He became more simple in his musical
phrases, which he presented entirely without ornament, and more complex
in his vocal and instrumental combinations. M. Azevedo points to
Rossini's unsuccessful opera of "Ermione" as an example of what in
Rossini's notion, conceived some years before he wrote anything for the
French theatre, a dramatic opera should be. But Rossini himself did not
entertain any high opinion of that work, and told Ferdinand Hiller that
in his endeavour to be exceedingly dramatic, he had only succeeded in
being dull--a common result when the composer neglects or is unable to
cultivate with felicity the essential lyrical element in opera.
"And your opera, 'Ermione,' which one of your biographers informs us
you preserve mysteriously to bequeath to posterity--what has become of
that?" asked Hiller; to which Rossini replied, that it was with his
other scores, lost or left at some theatre, he knew not where. To the
question whether Rossini had not once said that he had treated "Ermione"
too dramatically, and that it was in consequence damned, the maestro
replied that the public had judged his work fairly enough, and that it
was in truth very tedious. "There was really nothing," he continued; "it
was all recitative and declamation."
In fact, so-called dramatic operas, in which the characters, instead of
comporting themselves lyrically, instead of singing melodies, declaim
recitative in alleged imitation of the language of real life, are about
as interesting as tragedies without poetry, or comedies without wit.
In composing for the French stage, Rossini adopted no new theory of the
lyric drama. He made his style less ornate, more expressive, and, in
doing so, probably did not forget that his ordinary Italian manner would
suit neither French singers nor French audiences. A taste, moreover, for
simple, expressive music seems to have grown upon him, and he held,
justly no doubt, that with advancing years this taste generally
manifested itself.
But wherever we have seen Rossini at work he has always adopted a
compromise; he subjects circumstances to himself, but he is also obliged
to subject himself a little to circumstances. At many of the Italian
theatres he had an indifferent orchestra and chorus--sometimes, as at
the San Mosè, no chorus at all; and his only means of success lay in
writing attractive airs for the principal singers.
At the San Carlo, where he found the finest orchestra in Italy, he paid
particular attention to the instrumentation of his operas.
At the Académie, where the superiority of the orchestra and chorus was
still more remarkable, he thought more than ever of orchestral and
choral writing, and was not tempted by special excellence on the part of
his singers to sacrifice anything to the vocal solos.
At the same time the Académie was really the first theatre at which
Rossini found himself free to pursue his ideal of an opera, if any such
ideal possessed him. There, too, he could work at his leisure, and
instead of scrambling through the rehearsals, have just as many as he
required. That is one of the numerous advantages presented by a State
theatre. A private speculator cannot afford to delay very long the
production of a new piece, for by doing so he delays the return of the
money he has invested. Such considerations are not important at a
Government institution, where singers and instrumentalists are all
engaged for a long period and permanently. Besides, at a theatre
supported by the Government, the reputation of the establishment is the
first thing to be considered.
At Rossini's recommendation, two French artistes, Levasseur and
Mademoiselle Cinti, of the Théâtre Italien, were now engaged at the
Académie, where the principal tenor was the great dramatic singer,
Adolphe Nourrit. Here, then, already was the nucleus of an admirable
company. Levasseur and Mademoiselle Cinti were accustomed to the Italian
school of vocalisation. Nourrit was less Italianised, but he is said to
have profited greatly by the counsels of the great Italian maestro
during the production of the works which Rossini now composed or
arranged for the French stage.
The first of this series was "Le Siège de Corinthe," based on "Maometto
Secondo." Soumet, the French dramatic poet, and Balocchi, the author of
"Il Viaggio a Reims," arranged the libretto of the new work, Soumet
occupying himself with the dramatic, Balocchi with the lyrical portion.
Although Rossini borrowed for the "Siège de Corinthe" a number of pieces
which had already figured in "Maometto," he remodelled many of them. He
moreover altered some of the principal airs in a very significant
manner, cutting out his Italian _fioriture_, either because he thought
them unsuited to the French taste, or to the capacity of the French
singers, or because he considered them absolutely undramatic; perhaps
for all these reasons.
Although "Le Siège de Corinthe" is often spoken of as a mere French
adaptation of "Maometto Secondo," it does not include more than half the
pieces contained in the latter work; while, on the other hand, Rossini
composed specially for it the magnificent overture, the recitative,
"Nous avons triomphé," the allegro of the finale to the first act, the
ballad "L'Hymen lui donne," the recitative "Que vais-je devenir?" the
allegro of the duet in the second act, "La Fête d'Hyménée," the whole
of the ballet music, the chorus "Divin Prophète," the trio "Il est son
Frère," the finale to the second act "Corinthe nous défie," the
entre-acte preceding the third act, the recitative "Avançons!" the air
"Grand Dieu," the recitative of the trio "Cher Cléomène," the scene of
the Blessing of the Standards, and the finale to the third act.
The scene of the Blessing of the Standards is conceived in Rossini's
grandest and broadest dramatic style,--a style which he did not adopt
absolutely for the first time in writing for the French stage, since we
had already an example of it in the magnificent finale to the first act
of "La Donna del Lago," but which he nevertheless carried out more
consistently and with more success in France than he could possibly have
done in Italy, where it will be remembered "La Donna del Lago" was not
by any means appreciated.
The production of "Le Siège de Corinthe" was accompanied by one rather
important incident in Rossini's life, in which, indeed, it may be said
to form an epoch. It was the first opera that he sold to a music
publisher. His thirty-four Italian works had been left absolutely at
the disposition of every publisher or manager who chose to take them, to
engrave or represent, with or without additions, in no matter what form;
the one thing clear and certain in the matter being that no profit from
the sale or representation of his works could by any possibility reach
the composer.
The composer received from twenty to one hundred pounds for writing an
opera, and was allowed the privilege of keeping a copy of his work,
which, if he could manage it, he might sell to a publisher not less than
one year after its first performance. Only, as the copyright expired
altogether two years after the first performance, the privilege granted
by the managers was practically of no value. In short, he received
nothing for the right of engraving his works, and only one very moderate
payment for the right of representing them.
The one Italian opera for which Rossini obtained two hundred pounds was
thought to be shamefully overpaid. It was "Semiramide," and Rossini
himself said that he was looked upon as little better than a pickpocket
when he asked and obtained five thousand francs for it. The admirable
legislation on behalf of dramatists and their works, introduced in
France by the author of "Le Barbier de Séville," was of no profit to the
composer of "Il Barbiere." The representation of that work alone, if the
French system of securing to writers and composers for the stage a
certain fixed proportion of the receipts derived from the performance of
their pieces had been adopted throughout Europe, would have given
Rossini at least one hundred thousand pounds. As it was, it never
brought him a farthing beyond the eighty pounds paid to him by the
manager of the Argentina theatre for writing it and superintending the
rehearsals.[33] In France alone, if "Il Barbiere" had been originally
brought out in that country, Rossini's profits must have amounted to
something like one million francs.
* * * * *
Certainly, if it was in Italy that Rossini the composer made his
reputation, it was in France that he made his fortune. In England it was
not so much Rossini the composer, as Rossini the singer, Rossini the
accompanyist, Rossini the man of European reputation, and the friend of
George IV., who in four months, aided by his wife, made seven thousand
pounds. Two hundred and forty pounds was all the manager of the Italian
Opera of London had offered Rossini for the work he never completed.
Indeed, if a composer in England is to make money at all--as a
composer--it must be through music publishers, not managers, who, as a
rule, pay no more for the right of representation than Rossini received
in Italy for copyright.
For although we have not many composers in England, the number is at
least much greater than that of our opera managers; so that, when by
some rare accident a new opera is produced in this country, it is the
manager who seems to benefit, and who really does benefit, the composer.
Naturally then he does not give him a sum of money into the bargain.
Sometimes quite the contrary.
But the whole of our operatic system is absurd. In fact, at this moment
we have no operatic system, the custom still prevalent in other
countries of producing original operas having in England died out.
* * * * *
The sum received by Rossini for the copyright of "Le Siège de Corinthe"
was not a large one. At least in these days of international treaties,
when, moreover, the sale of music has everywhere increased, it would not
be so considered. Troupenas, the afterwards well-known publisher, had
then just gone into business, and thought with reason that he could not
make a better beginning than by bringing out Rossini's new work, the
first of the series of operas which he was to compose for the French
stage.
Injudicious friends advised him not to invest his money in an opera only
half new; but he was not to be dissuaded from his intention, and ended
by purchasing the copyright of "Le Siège de Corinthe" for six thousand
francs. If this opera had been produced thirty years later, the music
would have been worth to a publisher at least sixty, eighty, perhaps one
hundred thousand francs.
But Rossini was never exorbitant in his demands, and seems to have been
quite contented with the comparatively moderate payment made to him by
M. Troupenas, remembering, no doubt, that in Italy he would have
received nothing.
The next of his Italian works which Rossini proposed to arrange for the
French stage was "Mosè." M. Balocchi and M. de Jouy, one of the future
librettists of "Guillaume Tell," prepared the "book," and added to the
original opera several scenes and one or two personages of their own
invention. The pieces composed specially by Rossini for the French
version of "Mosè," are the introduction to the first act, the quartet
with chorus, "Dieu de la Paix," "Dieu de la Guerre," the chorus "La
douce Aurore," the march with chorus and recitations in the third act,
"Reine des Cieux," a portion of the ballet music, the finale "Je réclame
la foi promise," and the air of the fourth act, "Quelle horrible
destinée."
The finale, however, is said to be that of "Ciro in Babilonia,"
remodelled, while most of the dance music came from "Armida."
"Moïse," highly successful on its first production, was revived in 1852,
and again in 1863. An Italian version of the work was produced in London
some twenty years ago at the Royal Italian Opera. It was, of course,
found necessary to reconstruct the drama, which in England became
"Zora," as the Italian "Mosè," five-and-twenty years before, had become
"Pietro l'Eremita." Notwithstanding the magnificence of the music, the
piece, as adapted to the requirements of the English stage and English
society, did not prove generally successful. It was admirably
represented, like the rest of the later works by Rossini, which but for
the Royal Italian Opera would never have been heard in this country at
all.
* * * * *
Having now produced two serious operas at the Académie, Rossini proposed
to write for the same theatre a comic opera, or opera "di mezzo
carattere," for which the music of "Il Viaggio a Reims," or a good
portion of it, was found serviceable. The libretto of "Le Comte Ory,"
the third work contributed by Rossini to the repertory of the French
opera, is founded on a vaudeville of the same name, of which the
original subject is taken from an old French song. This time, Rossini
had a librettist of some brains. It was M. Scribe, the future author of
all Auber's best libretti, and the inventor of several universally known
operatic subjects (those, for instance, of "La Sonnambula" and "L'Elisir
d'Amore"). Certainly nothing more ingenious, or more perfectly suited in
the half character style to musical purposes has ever been produced than
Scribe's "book" of "Le Comte Ory," in which Nourrit, who afterwards
gave some valuable hints for "Les Huguenots," is said to have assisted
him.
The librettist, or librettists, for there were two, M. Scribe and M.
Poirson, had rather arduous labours to perform; for contrary to the
usual practice, they had to supply words to music already composed. The
writer of a criticism on "Le Comte Ory," published just after its
production, says that Messieurs Scribe and Poirson were two months
fitting French words to the pieces which Rossini borrowed from "Il
Viaggio," while Rossini set the whole of the second act to original
music in a fortnight.
Rossini is said not to have been over-pleased with Scribe, whose
business-like manner of apportioning his time did not leave him enough
to devote to the composer of "Le Comte Ory." It is to be regretted all
the same, that Rossini did not apply to Scribe when he was meditating
his opera of "Guillaume Tell," which though it contains Rossini's
grandest music, is, through the poorness of the libretto, by no means
the most perfect work that bears Rossini's name.
"Le Comte Ory," like "Le Siège de Corinthe," "Moïse," and "Guillaume
Tell," belongs to the repertory of the Royal Italian Opera, the only
theatre in Europe which includes all the great works written for the
Académie. In "Le Comte Ory," as in all Rossini's French operas,
considerable prominence is given to the orchestral parts. "There is not
only much harmony, there is also much melody in the accompaniment,"
wrote a critic of the period. "The composer," he ingeniously but
absurdly adds, "has put the pedestal on the stage and the statue in the
orchestra, so that there is more singing in the latter than on the
former."
In transferring to "Le Comte Ory" the best things he could find in "Il
Viaggio a Reims," Rossini did not forget the piece for fourteen voices,
which constitutes one of the great features in the latter, as it did in
the former work. Another important piece in "Il Viaggio," which was
originally set to a narrative of the battle of Trocadero, became in "Le
Comte Ory" a description of the riches contained in the cellars of the
Sire de Formoutiers. For the names of the different corps which took
part in the battle, names of celebrated wines have been substituted,
and the adaptation has been so well managed, and the intrinsic
significance of music is really so very small, that the piece seems to
have been originally conceived for the situation which it now occupies
in "Le Comte Ory."
This opera, the last but one that Rossini composed, contains the first
example of a brief instrumental introduction in lieu of a regular
overture. The introduction to "Le Comte Ory" is based on the melody of
the old French song from which the subject of the piece is taken.
CHAPTER VII.
"GUILLAUME TELL."
Before attacking "Guillaume Tell," Rossini retired into the country; and
this time devoted, not thirteen days to the production of the entire
work, as in the case of that comic masterpiece "Il Barbiere," but six
months to the pianoforte score alone. It was at the château of M.
Aguado, the well-known banker, that Rossini wrote the whole of
"Guillaume Tell," with the exception of the orchestral parts. These he
added after his return to Paris, where he completed the work among
visitors and friends, talking and laughing with them the whole time, as
if engaged in some ordinary and not very important pursuit.
* * * * *
Different versions have been given of the engagement which bound Rossini
to write so many operas for the Académie. Rossini's salary, as Inspector
of Singing, was, according to M. Azevedo, twenty thousand francs a
year. M. Azevedo, in stating this amount, says nothing about any
additional engagement in direct connection with the Académie.
M. Castil Blaze, on the other hand, without saying anything about the
inspectorship of singing, speaks of a contract, by which Rossini was to
write three operas for the Académie in the course of six years, during
which period he was to receive ten thousand francs a year in addition to
his composer's fees.
M. Guizot, who, as Minister of the Interior in the year 1830, was
brought officially into communication with Rossini, tells us in his
"Memoirs" that Rossini's salary as Inspector-General of Singing was
seven thousand francs a year; and that after the success of "Guillaume
Tell" he signed a new contract with the Civil List, by which he engaged
to compose two more operas for the Académie--conditions not stated.
However, in the first instance, all Rossini had to go to work upon was
the libretto of "Guillaume Tell," as prepared by M. de Jouy. He was
accustomed to bad librettos; but the badness of M. de Jouy's book seems
to have been something exceptional.
The preparation of the libretto must have occupied a considerable time,
and caused the author or authors infinite trouble. M. de Jouy had, in
the first instance, brought Rossini a poem of seven hundred verses,
written without any particular view to the one purpose for which
librettos should exist. It being impossible for Rossini to do anything
with M. de Jouy's libretto as it stood, M. Bis was called in; and to him
the whole of the second act, by far the best of the five, is said to be
due.
M. Bis, however, found himself placed in rather a delicate position. The
composer wished him to turn and return the libretto until he got it into
something like shape for the music. M. de Jouy, on the other hand,
desired above all to save the honour of his too academical verses; and
the result, as usual in such cases, was a compromise which satisfied no
one--not even the public.
The authors having at last finished the libretto, but not until they had
nobly sacrificed their poetry to the wants of the composer, printed it
with a sort of apology in the form of a preface.
"We might have offered," they said, "a more regular work to the reader;
it would have been only necessary to publish it as it was first
conceived; but then we should have had to restore several scenes which
have been suppressed; to put in their original place others, the order
of which has been inverted; and to cut out some passages which owe their
existence to the requirements of the music alone. Thus the printed piece
would have been quite different from the piece performed; and as the
spectators desire above all to find in the libretto what the
instrumentation does not permit them distinctly to hear, the words, for
the first time, perhaps, have been sent to press in exact conformity
with those of the score. If, on the one hand, the natural result of this
step is to offer a larger field to criticism, on the other, the public
will no doubt be grateful to us for a slight sacrifice of self-love made
in the interest of its pleasures. We also, it must be confessed, wished
to pay an indirect homage to our illustrious associate. It would have
been repugnant to our feelings to strike out even the defective verses
which the musical rhythm--sometimes fixed upon beforehand--obliged us
to arrange as they are; there are some chords, too, so powerful that
they seem to consecrate the words to which they lend their magic. In the
midst of this immense and completely new creation which makes Rossini a
French composer, 'Guillaume Tell' seems to be the work of one alone--of
Rossini."
From this preface it must be concluded, not that Rossini is answerable
for the badness of the "Guillaume Tell" libretto as it now stands, but
that it would have been much worse if he had not caused numerous
alterations to be made. In fact, the preface clearly shows, that in its
original form it must have been altogether useless for musical purposes.
Much has been said about the failure, or incomplete success, of
Rossini's masterpiece in the serious style; and Rossini's long silence
is often attributed to the coldness with which it was received. It was
at once appreciated, however, by the critical public, and the applause
at the first representation was most enthusiastic. But an opera cannot
live by its music alone, and the drama of "Guillaume Tell" is very
imperfect. After the first few weeks, in spite of the well-merited
eulogiums of the critical press, the opera ceased, in theatrical
parlance, to draw. It was represented fifty-six times in its original
form, and was then cut down to three acts; the original third act being
entirely omitted, and the fourth and fifth acts compressed into one.
At last the second act was given alone--often as a mere _lever de
rideau_, with inferior performers; and it was not until Duprez made his
début in the part of _Arnold_ that the success of the opera was renewed.
For three years before the arrival of Duprez the public heard nothing of
"Guillaume Tell" but the celebrated second act.
One day Rossini met the director of the Opera on the boulevard, who said
to him,--
"Well, Maestro, you are in the bills again to-night. We play the second
act of "Guillaume Tell."
"What! the whole of it?" inquired Rossini, who was naturally much hurt
by the mutilation of his work. That alone did not cause him to lay down
his pen; but it did not prevent his doing so.
* * * * *
It is to be eternally regretted that Rossini, in composing his last and
greatest work for the stage, did not select some drama better suited for
musical treatment than "William Tell." Nevertheless, Schiller's play
contains fine situations, and Rossini was never more nobly inspired than
in writing the duet for _Tell_ and _Arnold_; the trio of the Oath, and
the scene of the meeting of the Cantons; all of which owe a great
portion of their effect to their position in the drama. The charming air
of _Mathilde_, "Sombre forêt," would be equally charming for _Lucia_, or
any other sentimental light soprano, waiting for her lover in a wood, or
elsewhere; the passionate duet for _Mathilde_ and _Arnold_ might be sung
by any pair of lovers; the enchanting ballet music would make the
fortune of any opera. But the pieces first named are of those which
belong to "Guillaume Tell," and "Guillaume Tell" alone, and which would,
by comparison, fall flat if dissociated from the words, and above all,
the dramatic situations to which the composer has attached them.
Whatever we may think of the drama itself, the music which Rossini has
composed for it is the most dramatic that has come from his pen; and
while thoroughly dramatic, it is at the same time thoroughly
melodious--a combination not to be met with except in the works of the
very greatest masters. Indeed, "Guillaume Tell" is full of melody, in
the simplest solos as in the most massive choral writing. Rossini said
of the compositions of his old professor, Mattei, that "the solo
passages were not prominent, but that the _pleni_ were admirable." In
"Guillaume Tell" the solo passages and the _pleni_ are admirable alike.
The music, whatever it may have to express, never ceases to be
beautiful, and there is in every piece a clear current of melody, which
the richest and most varied harmony never obscures.
"Guillaume Tell," Rossini's latest, is also his finest opera. It is
written throughout in a higher and more dramatic style than any of his
previous works. It exhibits more sustained power, and is the only one of
his operas for the French stage in which every piece of music is new and
written specially for the situation. The distinctive feature in
"Guillaume Tell," as regards form, is the avoidance of the conventional
cavatina. It is right and necessary that a libretto should be
constructed with a view to musical as well as dramatic effect; but it
is not necessary that each principal singer, on coming before the
public, should sing a "cavatina;" nor is it desirable, when a cavatina
does happen to fall in with the situation (the opera has its soliloquies
as well as the spoken drama), that it should be of a certain recognised
pattern, with a few bars of recitative, or slow movement and a
cabaletta.
We feel in "Guillaume Tell" that the characters do not appear on the
stage merely to sing airs, duets, &c., but as personages in a musical
drama. The custom in Italian opera was that each character should sing
an air, and sing it as soon as possible after entering. Hence, indeed,
the very word "cavatina," from _cavare_, to issue forth. This custom has
shown itself far more tenacious than all the others which Rossini broke
through. It, indeed, seems to bear the force of an irremissible law; and
we find that Rossini's successors, who follow his example as well as
they can in all other respects, avoid doing so in this particular one.
Donizetti, Bellini, Verdi have all accepted the inevitable cavatina; and
Rossini himself, if he had returned to Italy, would doubtless have
returned to the cavatina at the same time,--in which there can be
nothing to object to, provided only that it be not dragged in, as is
often the case, without the least reference to dramatic propriety.
Of the grand vocal and instrumental combinations, so admirably treated
in "Guillaume Tell," Rossini had previously given an example in "La
Donna del Lago." But the scene of the meeting of the Cantons in
"Guillaume Tell" is far grander. It may, indeed, be cited as the
grandest operatic scene that exists--and, moreover, _the grandest of all
dramatic scenes in regard to the treatment of masses_, which in the
spoken drama can only be employed as a means of spectacular effect. The
opera is the only form of drama in which a crowd, an army, a
deliberative assembly, can effectually join with voice as well as with
gesture in the action of the piece, as it is the only form of drama in
which three or four persons, uttering similar or diverse sentiments, can
be made to give expression to them at the same time.
The scene of _Vasco di Gama_ before the Inquisition, in Meyerbeer's
"Africaine," would have a very poor effect in ordinary drama. The
prelates and other members of the tribunal, instead of singing, would of
course have to speak; and as they could not speak all at once, they
would have to address the unhappy _Vasco_ through a single
representative instead of crushing him, as in the opera, beneath the
weight of their unanimous condemnation. Such a scene, again, as the
Market-scene in "Masaniello," in which the chattering of the dealers and
the hurry and bustle of the crowd are made, through beautiful and
appropriate music, to form one harmonious whole, could only be faintly
and imperfectly imitated on the non-operatic stage by a representation
in dumb-show, for spoken words would be worse than useless. Similarly,
the meeting of the Cantons, in "Guillaume Tell," is a magnificent
subject for an operatic scene, which, treated otherwise than
operatically, would be as flat and dull as a procession of the Reform
League.
How, indeed, could the descent of the various bands from the mountains,
and their gathering together in one vast agitated flood, be suggested
and impressed upon the mind so forcibly as through music? Here the
operatic composer had an opportunity, turned by Rossini to magnificent
advantage, of going to the heart of a grand dramatic situation, and
bringing out its full significance.
The trio, independently of its wonderful melodic and harmonic beauty, is
a fine example of the power of music to give a simultaneous presentation
of various and conflicting emotions. But on the mere beauty of the
"Guillaume Tell" music, whether for the solo voices or for the
orchestra, for the chorus or for the ballet, it would be vain to dwell.
It would be useless to speak of it to those who have heard
it--impossible to give any idea of it to those who have not.
CHAPTER VIII.
ROSSINI AFTER "WILLIAM TELL."
The reason why Rossini, after producing "Guillaume Tell," ceased finally
to write for the stage is still a mystery, which has been rendered only
more mysterious by the various and often contradictory explanations
given of the composer's silence.
In the first place, the coldness with which "Guillaume Tell" was
received, and the successive mutilations to which that work was
subjected, are said to have checked Rossini's ardour.
Secondly, Rossini himself is reported to have declared that a new work,
if successful, would not add to his reputation; while, unsuccessful, it
might injure it.
Thirdly, Rossini has been accused of feeling annoyed at the success of
Meyerbeer.
Fourthly, Rossini's forty years' abstinence from dramatic writing is
explained by "laziness," as though he had not written in the most
industrious manner for the stage from the age of seventeen to that of
thirty-seven, when, after taking six months to compose an opera (an age
for Rossini), we suddenly find him abandoning dramatic composition for
ever.
* * * * *
Some of these pretended explanations may be disposed of at once. As for
Rossini's alleged jealousy of Meyerbeer, it must be remembered that
Rossini was the means of bringing Meyerbeer to Paris; that the two
composers were always excellent friends; and that one of Rossini's last
productions, probably the very last composition he ever put to paper,
was a pianoforte fantasia it pleased him to write on motives from
"L'Africaine," after attending the last rehearsal of that work.
As to the laziness with which Rossini is so often charged, it is curious
to remark that this habit of mind or body, or both, was somehow
compatible with the production of the thirty-four operas which Rossini
wrote between the years 1810 and 1823. After he had settled in Paris,
from 1824 to 1829, he still worked with prodigious activity, and did
not produce less than one opera every year,--"Il Viaggio a Reims" in
1825, "Le Siège de Corinthe" in 1826, "Moïse" in 1827, "Le Comte Ory" in
1828, and "Guillaume Tell" in 1829.
Rossini must at this time have been richer by some two or three thousand
a year than when he was working in Italy, and that without counting his
"author's rights" from the Opera, and reckoning only the capital of
seven thousand pounds which he had brought back from London, the four
hundred a year from his wife's dowry, the eight hundred a year which he
received from the Civil List and the sums for which he sold his scores
year by year to Troupenas, the publisher. One reason, then, for
Rossini's inactivity may have been that one great stimulus to activity,
poverty, urged him no longer.
But as Heine says of a composer whose friends had boasted that he was
"not obliged to write,"--a windmill might as well say that it is not
obliged to turn. If there is wind, it _must_ turn; and when it ceases to
turn, we know that the wind has gone down.
What makes the puzzle of Rossini's silence puzzling indeed, is, that he
does not seem quite to have known why he was silent himself. It is
astonishing how many persons had the coolness, not to say impertinence,
to ask Rossini why he never composed anything for the stage after
"Guillaume Tell;" and it is amusing, though also provoking, to find that
to most of these inquisitive persons he returned very evasive answers.
But, from Rossini's recorded conversations with his friend Ferdinand
Hiller, it is evident that it was not one cause alone which made him
determine to produce no more operas. It struck Hiller, with reference to
the maestro's physical condition in the year 1854, that, "when a man has
composed operas during twenty entire years, and been worshipped during
five-and-forty, it is really not surprising that he should feel somewhat
worn out." "But a nabob is a nabob," he continues, "even after losing
two or three thousand thalers, and in the same manner Rossini's mind is
still what it always was; his wit, his memory, his lively powers of
narration, are undiminished. And as he has written nothing for twenty
years, he has at least not given any one the right of asserting that his
musical genius has deteriorated,--the last work he wrote was 'Guillaume
Tell.'"
It was just at this time that Rossini exchanged some remarks with the
Chevalier Neukomm on the subject of industry and idleness, which again
throw a little light on the much vexed and certainly most interesting
question of Rossini's prolonged silence. "You are still indefatigable,"
he observed to Neukomm.
"Whenever I am no longer able to work," replied the latter, "you may
place me between six planks and nail me down, for I shall not desire to
have anything more to do with life."
"You have a passion for industry; I always had a passion for idleness,"
exclaimed Rossini.
"The forty operas you have composed are not a proof of that," answered
Neukomm.
"That was a long time ago. We ought to come into the world with
packthread instead of nerves," said the maestro, somewhat seriously;
"but let us drop the subject."
* * * * *
On several occasions Ferdinand Hiller seems to have asked Rossini point
blank the great question--why, after "William Tell," he ceased to
write.
"Is it not one of the greatest of all wonders that you have not written
anything for twenty-two years--what do you do with all the musical ideas
which must be welling about in your brain?" asked Hiller, who was
thinking perhaps of Heine's windmill.
"You are joking," replied the maestro, laughing.
"I am not joking in the least," returned Hiller; "how can you exist
without composing?"
"What!" said Rossini, "would you have me without motive, without
excitement, without a definite intention, write a definite work? I do
not require much to be excited into composition, as my opera texts
prove, but still, I do require something."
* * * * *
At another time Ferdinand Hiller succeeded in obtaining far more
explicit reasons for Rossini's premature retirement, which neither the
want of a libretto, nor the plea of constitutional idleness, nor shaken
nerves, sufficed to explain.
"Had you not the intention," Hiller asked, "of composing an opera on the
text of 'Faust?'"
"Yes," answered Rossini, "it was for a long period a favourite notion of
mine, and I had already planned the whole scenarium with Jouy; it was
naturally based upon Goethe's poem. At this time, however, there arose
in Paris a regular "Faust" mania; every theatre had a particular "Faust"
of its own, and this somewhat damped my ardour. Meanwhile, the
Revolution of July had taken place; the Grand-Opera, previously a royal
institution, passed into hands of a private person; my mother was dead,
and my father found a residence in Paris unbearable, because he did not
understand French--so I cancelled the agreement, which bound me by
rights to send in four other grand operas, preferring to remain quietly
in my native land, and enliven the last years of my old father's
existence. I had been far away from my poor mother when she expired;
this was an endless source of regret to me, and I was most apprehensive
that the same thing might occur again in my father's case."
The choice of a subject afterwards looked upon as unsuitable, the
Revolution of July, the appointment of a private person to the direction
of the Opera, the desire of Rossini not to be separated from his father
in Italy during the last years of the old man's life--here is a whole
catalogue of reasons given by Rossini himself for producing no more
operas, in which we find no mention of the mutilation of "Guillaume
Tell," nor of the composer's determination to rest on his laurels--a
piece of conceit by no means in keeping with the character of Rossini,
who, if he had had anything more to say would certainly not have been
prevented from saying it by his own admiration for "Guillaume Tell."
Nor was there anything in the fate of "Guillaume Tell" to frighten him,
and we have seen that his supposed laziness did not prevent his setting
to work on a new opera, which he must have commenced immediately after
"Guillaume Tell" had been produced.
Rossini went to live with his father in Bologna, it is true; but he did
not go there until 1836, so that this could have had little influence in
making him determine to send back his librettos six years before.
Rossini is neither a greater nor a smaller man, because, having produced
thirty-nine operas when he was thirty-seven years of age, it did not,
for no matter what reason, suit him to complete the fortieth. He was
destined to write thirty-nine operas, of which he wrote thirty-four
during the first thirteen years of his career. Ferdinand Hiller was no
doubt right in saying that a man cannot go on perpetually writing operas
with impunity for twenty years--and such operas as Rossini's, and at
such a rate of production! Even when he had become comparatively
inactive, Rossini produced four operas at the Académie in four
successive years. Meyerbeer, his immediate successor at the Académie,
brought out no more than three works at that establishment, and one at
the Opera Comique, in twenty years: ("Robert le Diable," 1831, "Les
Huguenots," 1836, "Le Prophète," 1849, "L'Etoile du Nord," 1851).
Of course, a composer is finally to be judged by his works, and not by
the time it takes him to produce them. I am only considering whether the
excessive labours of Rossini in the midst of his alleged idleness may
not, after twenty years' continuance, have thoroughly fatigued him.
* * * * *
No one seems to know what Rossini's precise agreement with the Académie
was. M. Castil-Blaze states that Rossini had engaged to write three
operas, of which "Guillaume Tell" was the first. According to Ferdinand
Hiller, he had undertaken to write four operas in addition to "Guillaume
Tell;" and it is certain that immediately after "Guillaume Tell," he
seriously meditated a "Faust." M. Castil-Blaze says positively that M.
Scribe had, in execution of a contract, furnished to Rossini, and
received back from him, the libretto of "Gustave III.," the foundation
of one of Auber's greatest works, and the "Duc d'Albe," on which
Donizetti was engaged when he was attacked by the terrible malady to
which he succumbed.
* * * * *
Whatever influence the Revolution of 1830 may have exercised on
Rossini's productive powers, it had a certain effect upon his pecuniary
position. The Civil List of the dethroned king was abolished, and with
it the pension of eight hundred a year, payable to Rossini. After going
to law, the composer succeeded in getting a retiring pension of six
thousand francs a year allowed him; and if one more reason for Rossini's
abandoning dramatic composition be required, it may be looked for in
the litigation to which he was now obliged to have recourse.
About this time, and in reference to the subject of this very lawsuit,
Rossini had occasion to see M. Guizot, who, in his Memoirs has left a
very interesting account of the interview. M. Guizot was not a
dilettante, and judged Rossini as a man of the world. His general
estimate of his visitor is perhaps for that reason all the more
valuable; and the minister's statement as to Rossini's position with
regard to the Civil List in the year 1830, must be accepted as
unimpeachable.
"The same day," writes M. Guizot,[34] "M. Lenormant brought to breakfast
with me M. Rossini, to whom the revolution of July had caused some
annoyances, which I wished to make him forget. King Charles X. had
treated him with well-merited favour; he was inspector-general of
singing, and received, in addition to his author's rights, a salary of
seven thousand francs; and some months previously, after the brilliant
success of "Guillaume Tell," the Civil List had signed a treaty with
him, by which he undertook to write two more great works for the French
stage. I wished the new government to show him the same good will, and
that he in return should give us the promised masterpieces. We talked
freely, and I was struck by the animation and variety of his wit, open
to all subjects, gay without vulgarity, and satirical without
bitterness. He left me after half-an-hour's agreeable conversation, but
which led to nothing; for it was not long before I resigned. I remained
with my wife, whom M. Rossini's person and conversation had much
interested. My little girl Henrietta, who was just beginning to walk and
to chatter, was brought into the room. My wife went to the piano and
played some passages from the master who had just left us, from
'Tancredi' among other works. We were alone; I passed I cannot say how
long in this manner, forgetting all external occupations, listening to
the piano, watching my little girl, who was trying to walk, perfectly
tranquil and absorbed in contemplation of these objects of my affection.
It is nearly thirty years since,--it seems as though it were yesterday.
I am not of Dante's opinion,
'Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordasi tempo felice
Nella miseria.'
"A great happiness is, on the contrary, in my opinion, a light, the
reflection of which extends to spaces which are no longer brightened by
it. When God and time have appeased the violent uprisings of the soul
against misfortune, it can still contemplate with pleasure in the past
the charming things which it has lost."
CHAPTER IX.
THE "STABAT MATER."
Rossini, though he wrote no more for the stage, did not all at once
cease to write. In 1832, a distinguished Spaniard, Don Varela, prevailed
upon him to compose a "Stabat Mater," which was not intended to be made
public. Rossini fell ill, and being unable to complete the work himself,
got Tadolini to finish three of the pieces. Nine years afterwards, Don
Varela being dead, his heirs sold the "Stabat" to a music publisher,
when Rossini claimed at law the copyright of the work, and gained his
action. He now composed three pieces to replace those of Tadolini, and
sold his "Stabat" thus complete to Troupenas.
Rossini had previously retired to Bologna, where he discovered the
talent of Alboni, then a young girl, and taught her, very carefully, all
the great contralto parts in his operas. He also allowed himself to be
appointed honorary director of the Lyceum of Bologna, where the duties
he assumed were by no means nominal. He took a great interest in the
institution, as the school in which he had received his own education,
and did all he could to improve it during a residence at Bologna of some
dozen years. It amused him, he said, to hear the pupils, who formed a
complete orchestra, play all possible kinds of orchestral works.
In the summer of 1836, Rossini paid a short visit to Frankfort, where he
met Mendelssohn, and passed several days in his society.
"I had the pleasure," says Ferdinand Hiller, "of seeing almost daily in
my father's house the two men, one of whom had written his last, the
other, his first great work. The winning manners of the celebrated
maestro captivated Mendelssohn, as they did everyone else; and
Mendelssohn played for him as long, and as much as he wished, both his
own compositions and those of others. Rossini thought of those days with
great interest, and often turned the conversation to the master who was
so soon torn from us. He informed us that he had heard his 'Ottetto'
very well executed in Florence, and I was obliged to play for him,
four-handed, the symphony in A minor with Madame Pfeiffer, a very
excellent pianist from Paris, who was then stopping at Trouville."
* * * * *
Between Rossini's visit to Frankfort and visit to Trouville, an interval
of eighteen years had elapsed, during which Rossini lost his first wife
(1845) and married again (Madame Olympe Pelissier, 1847).
Duprez had now appeared with the most brilliant success in "Guillaume
Tell;" but the enthusiastic admiration which Rossini's admirable
dramatic music at last elicited, in no way shook his determination never
to write again for the stage.
The "Stabat Mater" too, performed in public for the first time in 1842,
had increased the composer's reputation by exhibiting his genius in a
new light. Some critics, it is true, complained that the music was not
sufficiently devotional, that it was terrestrial, theatrical,
essentially operatic in its character.
Rossini told Ferdinand Hiller, that he had written the "Stabat Mater"
mezzo serio; but perhaps Rossini was only mezzo serio himself in saying
so.
Much nonsense has been written about this very beautiful work, which, on
its first production, was severely though clumsily handled in several
quarters, from a parochial point of view. Its lovely melodies are indeed
admirably unlike the music of the psalms sung in our churches; there is
also a little more naiveté, a little more inspiration, in the poetry of
the "Stabat Mater" than in the tortured prose, measured into lengths,
after the fashion of Procrustes, which certain poetical firms have
arranged, in pretended imitation of David, for the use of our Protestant
congregations. The poem of the "Stabat Mater" is full of beauty and
tenderness; and even in the passages most terrible by their subject, the
versification never loses its melody and its grace. Whatever else may be
said of Rossini's "Stabat," it cannot be maintained that it is not in
harmony with the stanzas to which it is set.
Besides the "Stabat Mater" was composed, as Raphael's Virgins were
painted, for the Roman Catholic Church, which at once accepted it,
without ever suspecting that Rossini's music was not religious in
character.
Doubtless the music of the "Stabat" bears a certain resemblance to
Rossini's operatic music; but that only means that the composer, in
whatever style he may write, still preserves something of his
individuality. The resemblance between Handel's opera music and oratorio
music is far greater, and, indeed, in the case of some airs, amounts, as
nearly as possible, to identity. At least, in Rossini's "Stabat Mater,"
there are no bravura airs. The style throughout is simple, fervent,
sincere.
"The 'Stabat' of Rossini," wrote Heine to the _Allgemeine Zeitung_, in
1842, "has been the great event of the season. The discussion of this
masterpiece is still the order of the day, and the very reproaches
which, from the North German point of view, are directed against the
great maestro, attest in a striking manner the originality and depth of
his genius; 'the execution is too mundane, too sensual, too gay for this
ideal subject. It is too light, too agreeable, too amusing.' Such are
the grievous complaints of some dull and tedious critics who, if they do
not designedly affect an outrageous spiritualism, have at least
appropriated to themselves by barren studies very circumscribed and very
erroneous notions on the subject of sacred music. As among the painters,
so among the musicians, there is an entirely false idea as to the proper
manner of treating religious subjects. Painters think, that in truly
Christian subjects, the figures must be represented with cramped, narrow
contours, and in forms as bleached and colourless as possible; the
drawings of Overbeck are their prototype in this respect. To contradict
this infatuation by a fact, I bring forward the religious pictures of
the Spanish school, remarkable for the fulness of the contours, the
brightness of the colouring, and yet no one will deny that these Spanish
paintings breathe the most spiritualised, the most ideal Christianity;
and that their authors were not less imbued with faith than the
celebrated masters of our days, who have embraced Catholicism at Rome in
order to be able to paint its sacred symbols with a fervour and
ingenuous spontaneity which, according to their idea, only the ecstasy
of faith can give. The true character of Christian art does not reside
in thinness and paleness of the body, but in a certain effervescence of
the soul, which neither the musician nor the painter can appropriate to
himself either by baptism or by study; and in this respect I find in the
'Stabat' of Rossini a more truly Christian character than in the
'Paulus' of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, an oratorio which the
adversaries of Rossini point to as a model of the Christian style.
Heaven preserve me from wishing to express by that the least blame
against a master so full of merits as the composer of 'Paulus;' and the
author of these letters is less likely than any one to wish to criticise
the Christian character of the oratorio in question from clerical, or,
so to say, pharisaical reasons. I cannot, however, avoid pointing out,
that at the age when Mendelssohn commenced Christianity at Berlin (he
was only baptised in his thirteenth year), Rossini had already deserted
it a little, and had lost himself entirely in the mundane music of
operas. Now he has again abandoned the latter, to carry himself back in
dreams to the Catholic recollections of his first youth--to the days
when he sang as a child in the choir of the Pesaro cathedral, and took
part as an acolyte in the service of the holy mass."
Heine, in his brilliant article, goes on to exalt Rossini (according to
his invariable method) by depreciating Mendelssohn; a proceeding for
which Rossini would not have thanked him. Nor would Heine himself have
been pleased to see the criticism in which he expresses so poetically,
and in such an admirable form, the true character of the "Stabat" music,
represented by a mere fragment. Still the fragments of some writers are
better than the complete articles of others; and the passages in which
Heine, as a poetical appreciator, not as a musical critic, points out
the error of condemning Rossini's entrancing music from the gloomy
churchwarden point of view, are admirable.
* * * * *
The "Stabat Mater," was, at one time, regarded as Rossini's final
utterance; but a mass, the production of the last few years of his life,
has just been made public, and bids fair to eclipse the fame of the
earlier religious work. However, of the "Stabat" it may already be said
that the music, as music, whatever significance may be attached to it,
will certainly live. It gains every year in popularity, and is at this
moment better known than any of Rossini's operas, except "William Tell"
and the "Barber."
The "Messe Solennelle" (or "_Petite_ Messe Solennelle," its original
title) was performed for the first time in presence of Meyerbeer, Auber,
and a certain number of private friends at Paris, in the year 1864. The
composer had not at that time arranged it for the orchestra, and the
instrumentation of the mass occupied him at intervals almost until the
autumn of last year, when, at the age of seventy-seven, he was attacked
by the illness which carried him off.
* * * * *
Rossini had the happiness not to survive his capacity for
production,--far less his reputation, which the performance throughout
Europe of his last work cannot fail to enhance. He was surrounded to the
last by admiring and affectionate friends; and if it be true that, like
so many other Italians, he regarded Friday as an unlucky day, and
thirteen as an unlucky number, it is remarkable that on Friday, the 13th
of November, he died.
Incomparably the greatest Italian composer of the century, and the
greatest of all Italian composers for the stage, he will be known until
some very great change takes place in our artistic civilisation by at
least three great works in three very different styles--"Il Barbiere di
Siviglia," a comic opera of the year 1813, "Guillaume Tell," a serious
opera of the year 1829, and the "Stabat Mater," a religious poem of the
year 1841.
LIST OF ROSSINI'S WORKS,
WITH THE DATE OF THEIR PRODUCTION IN PUBLIC.
1. Il Pianto d'Armonia. Cantata, 1808.
2. Orchestral Symphony, 1809.
3. Quartet for Stringed Instruments, 1809.
4. La Cambiale di Matrimonio. Opera, 1810.
5. L'Equivoco Stravagante. Opera, 1811.
6. Didone Abbandonata. Cantata, 1811.
7. Demetrio e Polibio. Opera, 1811.
8. L'Inganno Felice. Opera, 1812.
9. Ciro in Babilonia. Opera, 1812.
10. La Scala di Seta. Opera, 1812.
11. La Pietra del Paragone. Opera, 1812.
12. L'Occasione fa il Ladro. Opera, 1812.
13. Il Figlio per Azzardo. Opera, 1813.
14. Tancredi. Opera, 1813.
15. L'Italiana in Algeri. Opera, 1813.
16. L'Aureliano in Palmira. Opera, 1814.
17. Egle e Irene. Cantata (unpublished), 1814.
18. Il Turco in Italia. Opera, 1814.
19. Elisabetta. Opera, 1815.
20. Torvaldo e Dorliska. Opera, 1816.
21. Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Opera, 1816.
22. La Gazetta. Opera, 1816.
23. Otello. Opera, 1816.
24. Teti e Peleo. Cantata, 1816.
25. Cenerentola. Opera, 1817.
26. La Gazza Ladra. Opera, 1817.
27. Armide. Opera, 1817.
28. Adelaide di Borgogna. Opera, 1818.
29. Mosè. Opera, 1818.
30. Adina. Opera (written for Lisbon), 1818.
31. Ricciardo e Zoraïde. Opera, 1818.
32. Ermione. Opera, 1819.
33. Eduardo e Cristina. Opera, 1819.
34. La Donna del Lago. Opera, 1819.
35. Cantata in honour of the King of Naples. 1819.
36. Bianca e Faliero. Opera, 1820.
37. Maometto II. Opera, 1820.
38. Cantata in honour of the Emperor of Austria. 1820.
39. Matilda di Sabran. Opera, 1821.
40. La Riconoscenza. Cantata, 1821.
41. Zelmira. Opera, 1822.
42. Il Vero Omaggio. Cantata, 1822.
43. Semiramide. Opera, 1823.
44. Il Viaggio a Reims. Opera, 1825.
45. Le Siège de Corinthe. Opera, 1826.
46. Moïse. Opera, 1827.
47. Le Comte Ory. Opera, 1828.
48. Guillaume Tell. Opera, 1829.
49. Les Soirées Musicales. Douze morceaux de chant, 1840.
50. Quatre Ariettes Italiennes, 1841.
51. Stabat Mater. 1842.
52. La Foi, l'Espérance et la Charité. Trois choeurs, 1843.
53. Stances à Pie IX., 1847.
54. Messe Solennelle, 1869.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Cenni di una donna gia contante sopra il maestro Rossini.
[2] If Miçkiewicz had known, that the composer of the "Barber of
Seville" was descended from the Russini, he would have claimed him as a
Slavonian.
[3] The Italian theatres are for the most part named after the parishes
in which they stand.
[4] The serious opera consisted of the following persons: The _soprano_
or _primo uomo_ [_homo_, but not _vir_], prima donna (generally a _mezzo
soprano_ or _contralto_) and tenor; the _secondo uomo_ (soprano)
_seconda donna_ and _ultima parte_ (bass). The company for the comic
opera consisted of the _primo buffo_ (tenor) _prima buffa_, _buffo
caricato_ (bass), _seconda buffa_ and _ultima parte_ (bass). There were
also the _uomo serio_ and _donna seria_, generally the second man or
woman of the serious opera.
[5] Durante passed from one Conservatory at Naples to another, and was
necessarily professor at all three.
[6] M. Azevedo's idea on the subject is certainly the best. "Since its
production," he says, "on the stage and in the universe it has been made
the subject of a canticle for the Catholic Church, like all other
successful airs. But a litany before the air and a canticle after the
air are not the same thing." M. Azevedo also rejects the rice.
[7] "Le ombreggiature per le messe di voce, il cantar di partarrenti,
l'arte di fermare la voce per farla fluire equale nel canto legato,
l'arte di prender flato in modo insensibile e senza troncare il lungo
periodo vocale delle arte antiche." This passage is from Carpani.
Stendhal, not finding it easy to translate, gives it, in Italian, as his
own, and endeavours to explain his use of the Italian language by saying
that he finds "an almost insurmountable difficulty in writing about
singing in French." This mania for "adaptation" makes one doubt the
originality of everything Stendhal has done.
[8] There is nothing to prove that Rossini entertained any such opinion
of Velluti's singing.
[9] A: Théâtres Lyriques de Paris, "L'Opéra Italien," p. 317.
[10] Cardinal Gonsalvi was devoted to music and had a sincere attachment
to Cimarosa, the greatest Italian composer of his time. "At the
commencement of my ministry (secretaryship of state)," he writes in his
memoirs, "I experienced two very great afflictions, not to speak of many
others. One had no connection with my office: it was the death of my
great friend Domenico Cimarosa, the first composer, in my opinion, both
for inspiration and science, as Raphael is the first of painters." In
Cardinal Gonsalvi's will the following passage occurs:--"Fifty masses a
year for the repose of the soul of the celebrated maestro Domenico
Cimarosa, to be said in the church of the Rotunda on the 11th of
January, the anniversary of his death, with the gift of the paoli."
Cimarosa had then been dead upwards of twenty years, but the Cardinal
forgot neither him nor his family, as will be seen from the following
clauses in the same will:--"To the nun Cimarosa at the convent of the
Infant Jesus, one hundred ounces of silver and the snuff-box with the
portrait of her father; moreover the annual pension of forty crowns
spoken of in the will to be increased to eighty. To Paulina Cimarosa one
hundred ounces of silver and all the music of her father with his large
portrait, the whole free of carriage to Naples; moreover an annual
pension of seventy-two crowns."
[11] Dictionnaire Musicale, Article _Orchestre_. Rousseau wrote the
dictionary in 1754, though it was not published for some years
afterwards.
[12] See Ferdinand Hiller's Conversations with Rossini.
[13] Beaumarchais gave music lessons to Louis XV.'s daughters. To put
forward a more positive proof of his acquirements in this art, he
composed the incidental music of his own dramas.
[14] Préface du "Barbier de Seville," 1775.
[15] Words quoted by M. de St. Georges in his speech at Rossini's
funeral.
[16] Rossini sa vie et ses oeuvres, par les frères Escudier.
[17] M. Azevedo (G. Rossini sa vie et ses oeuvres par A. Azevedo) says
that "Rossini, consulted as to the correctness of these figures, thought
there must be an error of 100 scudi. He was under the impression that he
had only received 300 scudi for the "Barber."
[18] Théâtres Lyriques de Paris:--Histoire du Théâtre Italien.
[19] In the avvertimento al pubblico the title of the comedy is given in
Italian "Il Barbiere di Siviglia Ossia l'inutile precauzione."
[20] L'Ape Italiana, Paris, 1836.
[21] One of the worst puns ever made was made in verse on the production
of Verdi's highly instrumental "Nabuchodonosore" at Paris in 1845. It is
contained in the following quatrain:--
Vraiment l'affiche est dans son tort,
En faux on devrait la poursuivre:
Pourquoi nous annoncer _Nabuchodonos_--_or_
Quand c'est _Nabuchodonos_--_cuivre_?
[22] Page 21.
[23] Meyerbeer et son Temps.
[24] See "La Revue de Paris," March 1, 1856.
[25] There are opera-goers still living who have heard Cimarosa's
"Matrimonio Segretto," but no opera seria by an Italian composer
anterior to Rossini has been heard even by the oldest habitué.
[26] Rousseau wrote the "Dictionnaire Musicale" in 1754.
[27] Preface to Victor Hugo's libretto of "Esmeralda" (set to music by
Mademoiselle Bertin).
[28] See page 21.
[29] Ferdinand Hiller's Conversations. M. Azevedo says it was in
conformity with Rossini's advice that Habeneck produced Beethoven's
Symphonies.
[30] Conversations with Rossini by Ferdinand Hiller.--_Musical World_,
1856.
[31] This letter was made public at a sale of autographs which took
place in Paris last March, and was printed by most of the French papers
immediately afterwards.
[32] D. F. E. Auber, sa Vie et ses OEuvres. Par B. Jouvin.
[33] See the contract for the production of this work, p. 128.
[34] "Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire de mon Temps," vol. ii. p. 74.
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
BEAUMARCHIAS=> BEAUMARCHAIS {pg v}
in 1709, Paer's "Camilla,"=> in 1799, Paer's "Camilla," {pg 9}
Aria dei rizi=> Aria dei rizzi {pg 55}
apoggiatura=> appoggiatura {pg 77}
Vitorelli's make up=> Vitarelli's make up {pg 145}
Catana=> Catania {pg 289}
Che tutto e calma=> Che tutto è calma {pg 188}
Le Siége de Corinthe=> Le Siège de Corinthe {pg viii, 200, 344}
End of Project Gutenberg's The Life of Rossini, by Henry Sutherland Edwards