The Great Musicians: Rossini and His School Part 3

M. Azevedo denies that Rossini asked Paisiello's consent in the matter.

But he adds that the venerable maestro knew of Rossini's intention, and not only looked forward to the failure of his youthful rival, but was even prepared to lend a helping hand thereto.

CHAPTER VIII.

IL BARBIERE.

Rossini did not bring out his _Barber_ without addressing a few words of explanation, if not of apology, to the public; and by way of disclaiming all idea of entering into rivalry with Paisiello he announced his opera under a new t.i.tle.

"Beaumarchais' comedy," he wrote, in an advertis.e.m.e.nt to the public, "ent.i.tled the _Barber of Seville; or, The Useless Precaution_,[5] is presented at Rome in the form of a comic drama, under the t.i.tle of _Almaviva; or, The Useless Precaution_, in order that the public may be fully convinced of the sentiments of respect and veneration by which the author of the music of this drama is animated with regard to the celebrated Paisiello, who has already treated the subject under its primitive t.i.tle.

"Himself invited to undertake this difficult task, the maestro, Gioachino Rossini, in order to avoid the reproach of entering into rivalry with the immortal author who preceded him, expressly required that the _Barber of Seville_ should be entirely versified anew, and also that new situations should be added for the musical pieces, which, moreover, are required by the modern theatrical taste--entirely changed since the time when the renowned Paisiello wrote his work.

"Certain other differences between the arrangement of the present drama and that of the French comedy above-cited were produced by the necessity of introducing choruses, both for conformity with modern usage, and because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a theatre.

The courteous public is informed of this beforehand, that it may also excuse the author of the new drama who, unless obliged by these imperious circ.u.mstances, would never have ventured to introduce the least change into the French work, already consecrated by the applause of all the theatres in Europe."

When, in the above announcement, Rossini speaks of "new situations for the musical pieces which are required by the modern theatrical taste, entirely changed since the time of Paisiello;" and again of the necessity of introducing choruses, "both for conformity with modern usage and because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a theatre," he describes changes which he himself introduced. The "modern theatrical taste" of Rossini's time was the taste he had himself created. That Paisiello's forms, and especially his formlessness (as in long scenes of recitative) were already considered old and were indeed obsolete, though his _Barber_ had only been thirty-five years before the public, was implied rather pointedly in the sub-t.i.tle of Sterbini's libretto, which was described as follows: "Comedy by Beaumarchais, newly versified throughout, and arranged for the use of the modern Italian Musical Theatre."

Paisiello's _Barber_ had decidedly grown old. But as it was no longer played, people, by reason of its ancient reputation, continued to hold it in esteem; and the Roman public considered it very audacious for a young composer like Rossini to have ventured into compet.i.tion with so ill.u.s.trious a master. The young librettist Sterbini was considered quite as impertinent in his way as his musical a.s.sociate. Among the Roman public a compact body of Paisiello's friends, with the spirit of Paisiello in the midst of them, formed a dangerous clique of enemies; and so determined was the opposition that Rossini had to meet on the occasion of his work being represented for the first time that the overture--an original work composed expressly for _Il Barbiere_, and not the overture to _Aureliano_ and to _Elisabetta_ afterwards subst.i.tuted for it--was executed in the midst of a general murmuring; "such,"

remarks Zanolini, "as is heard on the approach of a procession."[6]

According to M. Azevedo the original overture was lost through the carelessness of a copyist; but the work could scarcely thus have disappeared unless not only the score, but also the band parts, had vanished. Stendhal says that the overture at the first representation was that of _Aureliano in Palmira_--the one performed even to the present day. He adds that the audience recognised, or fancied it recognised, in the overture the grumbling of the old guardian and the lively remonstrances of his interesting ward. However that may have been the overture was scarcely listened to; nor did the introduction meet with any better fate, nor, indeed, could even the appearance of Garcia on the stage dispose the public in favour of the new work.

Garcia, the most famous tenor of his time, was of course the Almaviva of the evening. It has already been seen that Luigi Zamboni, Rossini's fellow-lodger during the composition of the work, was the original Figaro. The Don Basilio was Vitarelli; Bartolo, Botticelli. The part of Rosina was a.s.signed to Mme. Giorgi-Righetti, who has left a very interesting account of the first representation of the opera.[7]

The composer had been weak enough, says the _prima donna_ of this historical evening, "to allow Garcia to sing beneath Rosina's balcony a Spanish melody of his own arrangement." Garcia held that as the scene was laid in Spain, and as Count Almaviva was a Spaniard nothing could be more appropriate than that this interesting personage should address the lady of his heart in Spanish song. Unfortunately he forgot to tune his guitar, and this indispensable preliminary operation had to be performed by Rosina's serenader on the stage. The public began to laugh; then a string broke, and the public began to hiss. When the broken string had been replaced, and the air so awkwardly prefaced was at length heard, the public did not like it and only listened to it enough to be able to reproduce certain pa.s.sages of it in burlesque tones. The introduction to Figaro's air, which, as every opera-goer knows, is, before being sung by the vocalist, played by the orchestra, attracted, as well it might do, a certain amount of attention. When, however, Zamboni entered with another guitar, the anti-guitarists set up a loud laugh, and without waiting to see whether the baritone, unlike the tenor, had taken the trouble to tune his instrument beforehand, hissed and hooted so that not a note of "Largo al Fattotum" was heard. When Mme. Giorgi-Righetti made her appearance in the balcony, she was, in her character of favourite singer, applauded; but having no air a.s.signed to her in this not very suitable situation, the audience thought they were being robbed of the expected _cavatina_, and uttered murmurs of disapprobation. The brilliant and melodious duet for Almaviva and Figaro was sung in the midst of hisses and derisive shouts. When, however, Rosina reappeared and sang the first notes of "Una voce" the audience became silent; a chance was given to the composer for the sake of the singer. Mme.

Giorgi-Righetti was radiant with youth and beauty; the effect of her fresh, beautiful voice was too much for the opposition. The conclusion of her bright, sparkling air was followed by three long rounds of applause. Rossini bowed from his place, at the head of the orchestra, to the public, and then turning towards the singer, whispered, "_Oh natura_!"

Vitarelli, the representative of Don Basilio, had "made up" admirably for the part; and his entry would possibly have been effective but that a trap having been left open on the stage he stumbled over it, fell, damaged his face, and on rising had to begin his admirable dramatic air on the efficacy of calumny with his handkerchief to his nose. A portion of the public is said to have imagined that the fall, the injuries to the face, the handkerchief to the nose, were all in the business of the part, and thinking it savoured of buffoonery, expressed their disapproval accordingly. The duet of the letter was objected to by reason of certain incidents afterwards left out; but the music must have been liked for its own sake had it only been heard. As if the untuned guitar, the broken string, the newly-placed cavatina, the open trap, the fall of Don Basilio, and the necessity under which Rosina's music-master found himself of singing "La Calunnia" with a handkerchief in front of his mouth had not been enough, the opening of the finest concerted finale which had yet been given to the Italian stage was the signal for the appearance of a cat, which was chased in one direction by Figaro, in another by Bartholo, and which, in a wild endeavour to escape from an attack made upon it by Basilio, ran into the skirt of Rosina's dress.

The self-introduction of the cat among the princ.i.p.al characters, grouped together for the finely built concerted piece which brings the first act to an end, disarranged as a matter of course all the master's combinations. During the performance of the opening movement the attention of the public was concentrated entirely on the cat, and general laughter went on increasing until the long, elaborate, constantly varied, and, on all other occasions, highly interesting finale was brought to an end.

With something like a just appreciation of his own merit and with profound contempt for the injustice and insolence of the public, Rossini, on the fall of the curtain, turned round and applauded. He was the only person in the theatre who did so; and the audience indignant at the presumption of this interested minority of one, was at the same time so astonished that it forgot at the time to manifest its resentment.

The moment of vengeance arrived when the curtain rose for the second act. The public showed what it thought of Rossini's having ventured to show what he thought of his own music, by hissing and hooting in such a manner that not a note of the second act was heard. The composer, while this organised noise was being kept up, remained perfectly calm at the orchestral piano. At the end of the performance he went home to bed; and when the princ.i.p.al singers called upon him soon afterwards to condole with him he was fast asleep.

The only change that Rossini next day found it necessary to make in his work was to subst.i.tute a new air for the unfortunate Spanish song which Garcia had been allowed to introduce. This gave him no trouble. He simply transcribed for the solo voice the melody of the celebrated chorus which had already figured first in _Ciro in Babilonia_, and afterwards in _Aureliano in Palmira_. Such was the origin of the beautiful "Ecco ridente il cielo" which he handed to Garcia as he wrote it, and which was sung the same evening. Those who believe in the absolute significance of music apart from words, may be interested to hear that Almaviva's charming love song was, as first composed, a prayer--as a love song after all may well be.

At the second representation the _Barber_ was comparatively well received. Being heard, it was naturally admired. Indeed, a certain number of connoisseurs are said to have appreciated it from the very first, though on the opening night the difficulty must have been not to understand the work--which appeals alike to the simplest, and to the most cultivated, musical intelligence--but merely to hear it. After a few performances Rossini's new work began to excite enthusiasm; and it had not been before the public for more than a week when it was received nightly with frantic applause.

Garcia's Spanish melody was, after some years, reintroduced into the _Barber_ by Rubini; the trio which, in the music lesson scene, occupied the place now filled by no matter what fancy air that the Rosina of the evening thinks fit to introduce, is known to have been lost: and it has been seen that, according to some authorities, a like fate attended the overture written specially for the work. Stendhal, on the unacknowledged authority of Carpani, states that at the first representation the opera was preceded by the overture to _Aureliano in Palmira_ and to _Elisabetta_, which, though heard in connection with the former work at Milan and in connection with the latter at Naples, had never been heard at Rome. Besides borrowing from himself, Rossini, in more than one "number" of the _Barber of Seville_, was indebted to the invention of others. The melody of the trio "Zitti zitti" is taken, note for note, from Simon's air in Haydn's _Seasons_--a work, it will be remembered, of which Rossini in his early youth had directed the performance at the Lyceum of Bologna. The very lively tune sung by the Duenna Berta is adapted without much alteration from a Russian dance, which Rossini had heard played by a Russian lady of his acquaintance. It soon became the custom not to listen to Berta's air, which is always a.s.signed to an inferior singer; and it acquired the name of the "Ice tune;" not in allusion to its place of origin, but because, during its performance, the people in the boxes called for ices. The part of Rosina, which in the present day is usually given to the soprano, was composed for the mezzo-soprano voice. Mme. Giorgi-Righetti sang it, of course, in its original key; that of F. Many a soprano has sung it in G. According to an account given by M. Castil-Blaze in his _Histoire du Theatre Italien_ of the different keys in which the princ.i.p.al airs of _Il Barbiere_ have been sung, Figaro's "Largo al fattotum," written for Zamboni in the key of C, is generally sung in B flat; Tamburini, however, sang it in B natural. Basilio's "La calunnia," written in D, is for the most part sung in C. Lablache used to sing in D flat the air for Bartholo, written in E flat.

Whatever may be said as to the character belonging absolutely to this or that key, it would be difficult to allow that the music of Rosina, of Figaro, of Basilio, or of Bartolo has either lost or gained by these frequent transpositions.

CHAPTER IX.

ROSSINI AND THE COMIC IN MUSIC.

No composer has written more lively, more graceful comedy music than Rossini. But, except _Il Figlio per Azzardo_, with its high notes for low voices, its low voices for high notes, its ludicrous accompaniments, and its grotesque instruments of percussion in the shape of metal lamp-shades tapped with violin bows, Rossini never wrote music which, comic or serious, was not charming; and _Il Figlio per Azzardo_ was nothing but a practical joke played for the benefit of an unreasonable and impolite manager. It may be interesting to consider in what the musical comic really consists.

The aesthetics of music have been much neglected; and no one, so far as I know, has yet attempted to explain or even to define the comic in music.

Everything, it may be roughly said, is comic that makes one laugh; and if this be the case, then, between comic music and music so utterly bad as to be ludicrous and absurd, there should be no great difference. The intention, however, of the composer must count for something, and one cannot accept as comic music which is simply played or sung very much out of tune. Many persons disbelieve altogether in comic music. Lively, brilliant music is admirable, and commends itself to every taste. But comic music is for the most part as objectionable as comic women, than which nothing much more objectionable can well be imagined. It is the province of music to charm, to fascinate, to call up visions of delight, but not to cause fits of laughter. It may be questioned, moreover, whether laughter, or even the least tendency to laugh, can be provoked by music, so long as it is composed and executed according to the rules of art. A comic poem, a comic picture, may be a masterpiece of artistic expression, but it is difficult to imagine a perfect musical composition which would afford matter for merriment. Gounod's _Funeral March for a Marionette_ is a graceful, melodious piece of music, in which there is nothing comic but the t.i.tle. No one would find it in the slightest degree amusing but for the description of the incidents it is supposed to ill.u.s.trate, which is usually printed in the programmes of concerts where the said funeral march is to be performed. In the old-fashioned Italian operas of the buffo type there are plenty of chattering songs in which the humour, such as it is, consists in the words being uttered so rapidly that any greater rapidity of utterance would seem to be impossible. Here some little amus.e.m.e.nt may be caused by witnessing the efforts of the buffo singer or singers--for there are often two or three of them chattering at once--to overcome such difficulties as have been deliberately put forward for that purpose by the composer. If this, however, be humour, it is humour of a very mean order, on a par with that of "Peter Piper pecked a peck of pepper," and other verbal devices for testing the power of a speaker to speak rapidly and at the same time distinctly. In Paisiello's _Barber of Seville_ there was a comic piece for two fantastic and quite episodical characters, borrowed from Beaumarchais' comedy (where, as already mentioned, Rossini took good care to leave them), of whom one, La Jeunesse, sneezed, while the other, L'Eveille, yawned, in the presence of old Bartolo. It may be very funny to sneeze and to yawn, but such fun as therein lies can scarcely be said to be of a musical character.

Much, indeed, that is considered comic in music possesses the same sort of drollery that belongs in comic writing to grammatical errors, or to mistakes in spelling. Romberg's _Toy Symphony_, in which, with the usual orchestral basis, solo instruments of a burlesque character, such as the rattle, the penny trumpet, the child's drum, and so on, are from time to time introduced, is surprisingly funny. But with the first feeling of surprise the fun also vanishes; for the humour in this, as in all other toy symphonies, consists only in giving good music to bad instruments.

If Romberg's symphony were played throughout with instruments of the best make in the parts written for the "toys," no one not previously acquainted with the work would imagine for a moment that it was intended to be amusing. In Mozart's _Musical Joke_, again, the joke consists in the instruments coming in at wrong places, executing inappropriate phrases, and playing out of tune. There are elements of beauty in the work, as in everything that Mozart composed; but the humour of the piece is akin to that of those American humourists of whom one of the most remarkable was not ashamed to complain of "Mr. Chaucer" that he could not spell. A composer may easily produce a laugh if he will only condescend to an absurdity so easy to realise, by causing a pretentious introduction to be followed by a trivial tune; or he may produce a genuine burlesque effect by imitating with characteristic exaggeration the style of some other composer; or he may show a certain wit by means of musical allusions, as Mozart has done in the supper scene of _Don Giovanni_, where Don Juan's private band is made to play "Non piu andrai," in order that Leporello may refer to the fact of its not having been quite appreciated when it was first heard. But without Leporello's spoken (or declaimed) words it would occur to no one that there was anything amusing in introducing into one opera an air from another.

Of the music suitable to comedy Rossini was undoubtedly a master; and in such music the _Barber of Seville_ abounds. But though the most characteristic air in the whole opera, Figaro's "Largo al fattotum," is bright, gay, joyful, impulsive, one cannot say that it is comic. Heard for the first time apart from the words, it would cause no one to laugh, nor even, except as the expression of musical satisfaction, to smile.

Rossini could write very comic music indeed when he pleased. He knew well enough, however, that he was writing bad music at the time. He launched into all sorts of extravagances, and introduced some effects in which, as we have already seen, musical instruments, properly so called, had no part.

Meyerbeer, in his highly but sometimes almost grotesque orchestral effects, has approached the very verge of burlesque music such as Rossini, in the little opera referred to, deliberately wrote. The simple motive, for instance, of the march in _Robert le Diable_ is given, when introduced for the first time, to four kettledrums. A four-note melody executed on four kettledrums would in a burlesque have excited roars of laughter. Jessica was "never merry when she heard sweet music." But sweet music is one thing, and grotesque music another. It is easier, indeed, to speak of comic music than to define it accurately, or to cite specimens that will bear a.n.a.lysis.

CHAPTER X.

FROM "OTELLO" TO "SEMIRAMIDE."

In 1816, Rossini brought out at the San Carlo, of Naples, the second of his serious operas, or at least the second of those which were destined to make a mark: _Otello_. This work exhibited reforms of various kinds much more important than any that are to be noticed in _Tancredi_.

Recitative is more sparingly used than in the earlier work, and for the first time it is accompanied by the full band. Now, too, Rossini banished the piano from the orchestra, where it had been allowed to remain long after its expulsion as an orchestral instrument from the bands of Germany and (thanks to Gluck) of France. Two years after its production at Naples Byron witnessed a representation of _Otello_ at Venice, and gives some account of it in one of his letters dated 1818.

The libretto struck him as bad and ridiculous, but he praises the music, and the style in which it was executed. Lord Mount-Edgc.u.mbe, when the work was given in London, must have been disgusted to find two of the leading parts a.s.signed to ba.s.s voices. Iago is of necessity almost as important a character as Oth.e.l.lo himself. Rossini's librettist kept him, nevertheless, a little too much in the back ground, while Roderigo, on the other hand, is too much brought forward. In expelling the piano from the orchestra Rossini at the same time, did away with those interminable recitatives accompanied by piano or piano and double ba.s.s which separated the musical pieces in the works composed by Rossini's predecessors. It was the impersonation, however, of _Otello_ by Davide, which, in the way of acting and singing, helped more than anything else to ensure the success of the performance.

"Davide," wrote a French critic, M. Bertin, from Venice, in 1823, "excites among the _dilettanti_ of this town an enthusiasm and delight which could scarcely be conceived without having been witnessed. He is a singer of the new school, full of mannerism, affectation and display, abusing, like Martin, his magnificent voice with its prodigious compa.s.s (three octaves comprised between four B flats). He crushes the princ.i.p.al motive of an air beneath the luxuriance of his ornamentation, which has no other merit than that of difficulty conquered. But he is also a singer of warmth, _verve_, expression, energy and musical sentiment; alone he can fill up and give life to a scene; it is impossible for another singer to carry away an audience as he does, and when he will only be simple he is admirable; he is the Rossini of song, he is a great singer, the greatest I have ever heard. Doubtless the manner in which Garcia plays and sings the part of Otello is preferable, taking it altogether, to that of Davide. It is purer, more severe, more constantly dramatic; but with all his faults Davide produces more effect--a great deal more effect. There is something in him, I cannot say what, which, even when he is ridiculous, commands, enhances attention. He never leaves you cold, and when he does not move you he astonishes you; in a word, before hearing him, I did not know what the power of singing really was. The enthusiasm he excites is without limits. In fact his faults are not faults, for Italians who in their _opera seria_ do not employ what the French call the tragic style, scarcely understand us when we tell them that a waltz or a quadrille movement is out of place in the mouth of a Caesar, an a.s.sur, or an Otello. With them the essential thing is to please; they are only difficult on this point, and their indifference as to all the rest is really inconceivable. Here is an example of it. Davide, considering, apparently, that the final duet of _Otello_ did not sufficiently show off his voice, determined to subst.i.tute for it a duet from _Armida_ ('Amor possente nome') which is very pretty, but anything rather than severe. As it was impossible to kill Desdemona to such a tune, the Moor, after giving way to the most violent jealousy, sheaths his dagger, and begins in the most tender and graceful manner his duet with Desdemona, at the conclusion of which he takes her politely by the hand, and retires amidst the applause and bravos of the public, who seems to think it quite natural that the piece should finish in this manner, or rather that it should not finish at all; for after this beautiful _denouement_ the action is about as far advanced as it was in the first scene. We do not in France carry our love of music so far as to tolerate such absurdities as these, and perhaps we are right."

_Otello_ in the present day seems somewhat antiquated, and in some of the dramatic scenes the accent of pa.s.sion is smothered beneath roulades and vocalistic ornaments of all kinds. But it contains some fine pieces, and the last act is full of beauty. Speaking once to a friend on the subject of his own operas, Rossini said that much of what he had written must in time pa.s.s out of fashion, but that he believed the second act of _William Tell_, the last act of _Otello_, and the whole of the _Barber of Seville_ would survive the rest.[8] _Il Barbiere_ is, indeed, as fresh now as when it was first written. Yet Paisiello's treatment of the same subject was found to be old-fashioned in a very few years--was in fact rendered so by the newness, the brightness, the youthful gaiety of Rossini's setting.

Nothing more need be said in this volume of Rossini considered as a composer of comic opera. He cultivated every style, including the ancient style of _La Cenerentola_ which contains much comic with some serious music, and of _La Gazza Ladra_, which might well have been treated seriously throughout, though in some of the gravest situations of this work he is gay, in some of the severest, lively.

_La Cenerentola_, like _Il Barbiere_, _La Gazza Ladra_, and so many successful operas by Rossini and other Italian composers (_L'Elisir_, _Linda_, _Lucrezia_, _La Favorita_, _Maria di Rohan_, for instance, of Donizetti, and the _Sonnambula_ and _Norma_ of Bellini), is based on a French play--the ingenious comedy of _Cendrillon_, by Etienne. Rossini composed it for the Teatro Valle of Rome, where it was produced for the carnival of 1817, on the 26th of December, 1816, precisely one year after _Torvaldo e Dorliska_, nearly one year after the _Barber_, a few months after _Otello_, and a few months before _La Gazza Ladra_. Between the winter of 1815 and the spring of 1816, Rossini composed and produced six operas, including the four admirable ones just named. The two others given with comparatively little success were _Torvaldo e Dorliska_ and _La Gazzetta_.

_La Cenerentola_, on its first production, excited no such enthusiasm as _Il Barbiere_, but drew after its second or third representation. It is known to have been Rossini's custom when an opera of his fell, to pick up the pieces; and the score of _La Cenerentola_ was adorned throughout with fragments saved from the ruins of his earlier works; such as the wholly forgotten _Pietra del Paragone_ and the never-much-remembered _Turco in Italia_. To the former had originally belonged the drinking chorus, the burlesque proclamation of the Baron, and the duet "Un soave non so che;" to the latter the duet "Zitti zitti," the sestet and the stretta of the finale.

To _La Cenerentola_ belongs the most beautiful and the most striking of Rossini's final airs for the prima donna: the once highly popular "Non piu mesta." This was his fourth air of the kind; and he now abandoned this method of bringing an opera to a brilliant termination in favour of other composers--who duly adopted it.

The part of Cenerentola, like that of Rosina, was written for Madame Giorgi-Righetti, who obtained therein the most brilliant success, especially in the famous _rondo finale_. All Rossini's great prima-donna parts were composed for the contralto or for the mezzo-soprano voice; for Madame Marcolini, Tancredi; for Madame Giorgi-Righetti, Rosina and Cenerentola; and for Mademoiselle Colbran, Desdemona and Semiramide.

When Rossini began his career, so absurd was the prevalent custom of distributing the parts that the first woman's part was habitually given to the contralto, the first man's part to the sopranist, or artificial male soprano. Rossini continued to compose princ.i.p.al female parts, first for the contralto, then for the mezzo-soprano voice; and it was only when he produced _Matilda di Shubrun_ towards the end of his Italian career (1821) that he a.s.signed a leading character to a soprano. Matilda in _Matilda di Shubrun_, and Matilde in _Guillaume Tell_, are the only two parts that Rossini ever wrote for the soprano voice.

Whether soprano voices have been forced into activity in order to suit new tastes, or whether composers have taken to writing for the soprano voice because in the present day sopranos, and especially "light sopranos," abound, whereas good mezzo-soprano and contralto voices are but rarely to be met with, it would be difficult to say. But with the exception of Meyerbeer's _Africaine_ and Donizetti's _Favorita_, no leading operatic part has for the last fifty years or more been written for the contralto voice.

A new kind of part, however, has been found for the most masculine of feminine voices; such parts as those of Pippo in _La Gazza Ladra_, of Malcolm Graeme in _La Donna del Lago_, and of Arsace in _Semiramide_; and here again we see an innovation of Rossini's, which by his successors has been generally adopted.