Chapter XIV

OPERA IN ITALY, GERMANY AND RUSSIA, DURING AND IN CONNECTION WITH
THE REPUBLICAN AND NAPOLEONIC WARS. PAISIELLO, PAER, CIMAROSA,
MOZART. THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO. DON GIOVANNI.

Nothing shows better the effect on art of the long continental wars at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century than the fact that Mozart's two greatest works, written for Vienna and Prague immediately before the French Revolution, did not become known in England and France until about a quarter of a century after their production. Fortunate Austria, before the great break up of European territories and dynasties, possessed the two first musical capitals in Europe. Opera had already declined in Berlin, and its history, even under the direction of the flute-playing Frederic, possesses little interest for English readers after the departure or rather flight of Madame Mara. Italy was still the great nursery of music, but her maestri composed their greatest works for foreign theatres, and many of them were attached to foreign courts. Thus, Paisiello wrote his _Barbiere di Siviglia_ for St. Petersburgh, whither he had been invited by the Empress Catherine, and where he was succeeded by Cimarosa. Cimarosa, again, on his return from St. Petersburgh, wrote his masterpiece, _Il Matrimonio Segretto_, for the Emperor Leopold II., at Vienna. Of the Opera at Stockholm, we have heard nothing since the time of Queen Christina. The Dresden Opera, which, in the days of Handel, was the first in Europe, still maintained its pre-eminence at the beginning of the second half of the eighteenth century, when Rousseau published his "Musical Dictionary," and described at length the composition of its admirable orchestra. But the state and the resources of the kings of Saxony declined with the power of Poland, and the Dresden Opera, though, thanks to the taste which presided at the court, its performances were still excellent, had quite lost its peculiar celebrity long before Napoleon came, and carried away its last remaining glories in the shape of the composer, Paer, and Madame Paer and Brizzi, its two principal singers.

[Sidenote: PAISIELLO IN RUSSIA.]

The first great musical work produced in Russia, Paisiello's _Barbiere di Siviglia_, was performed for the first time at St. Petersburgh, in 1780. In this opera work, of which the success soon became European, the composer entered thoroughly into the spirit of all Beaumarchais's best scenes, so admirably adapted for musical illustration. Of the solos, the three most admired were Almaviva's opening romance, Don Basil's _La Calomnia_, and the air for Don Bartholo; the other favourite pieces being a comic trio, in which La Jeunesse sneezes, and L'Eveillé yawns in the presence of the tutor (I need scarcely remark that the personages just named belong to Beaumarchais's comedy, and that they are not introduced in Rossini's opera), another trio, in which Rosina gives the letter to Figaro, a duet for the entry of the tenor in the assumed character of Don Alonzo, and a quintett, in which Don Basil is sent to bed, and in which the phrase _buona sera_ is treated with great felicity.

Pergolese rendered a still greater service to Russia than did Paisiello by writing one of his masterpieces for its capital, when he took the young Bortnianski with him from St. Petersburgh to Italy, and there educated the greatest religious composer that Russia, not by any means deficient in composers, has yet known.

[Sidenote: A SINGER'S INDISPOSITION.]

We have seen that Paisiello, some years after his return to Italy, was engaged by Napoleon as chapel-master, and that the services of Paer were soon afterwards claimed and secured by the emperor as composer of his chamber music. This was not the first time that Paer had been forced to alter his own private arrangements in consequence of the very despotic patronage accorded to music by the victorious leaders of the French army. In 1799 he was at Udine, where his wife was engaged as _prima donna_. Portogallo's _la Donna di genio volubile_ was about to be represented before a large number of the officers under the command of Bernadotte, when suddenly it appeared impossible to continue the performance owing to the very determined indisposition of the _primo basso_. This gentleman had gone to bed in the middle of the day disguised as an invalid. He declared himself seriously unwell in the afternoon, and in the evening sent a message to the theatre to excuse himself from appearing in Portogallo's opera. Paer and his wife understood what this meant. The performance was for Madame Paer's benefit; and Olivieri, the perfidious basso, from private pique, had determined, if possible, to prevent it taking place. Paer's spirit was roused by the attitude of the _primo buffo_, which was still that of a man confined to his bed; and he resolved to frustrate his infamous scheme, which, though simple, appeared certain of success, inasmuch as no other comic _basso_ was to be found anywhere near Udine. The audience was impatient, Madame Paer in tears, the manager in despair, when Paer desired that the performance might begin; saying, that Providence would send them a basso who would at least know his part, and that in any case Madame Paer must get ready for the first scene. Madame Paer obeyed the marital injunction, but in a state of great trepidation; for she had no confidence in the capabilities of the promised basso, and was not by any means sure that he even existed. The curtain was about to rise, when the singer who was to have fallen from the clouds walked quietly on to the stage, perfectly dressed for the part he was about to undertake, and without any sign of hesitation on his countenance. The _prima donna_ uttered a cry of surprise, burst into a fit of laughter, and then rushed weeping into the arms of her husband,--for it was Paer himself who had undertaken to replace the treacherous Olivieri.

"No," said Madame Paer; "this is impossible! It shall never be said that I allowed you, a great composer, who will one day be known throughout Europe, to act the buffoon. No! the performance must be stopped!"

At this moment the final chords of the overture were heard. Poor Madame Paer resigned herself to her fate, and went weeping on to the stage to begin a comic duet with her husband, who seemed in excellent spirits, and commenced his part with so much _verve_ and humour, that the audience rewarded his exertions with a storm of applause. Paer's gaiety soon communicated itself to his wife. If Paer was to perform at all, it was necessary that his performance should outshine that of all possible rivals, and especially that of the miscreant Olivieri, who was now laughing between his sheets at the success which he fancied must have already attended his masterly device. The _prima donna_ had never sung so charmingly before, but the greatest triumph of the evening was gained by the new _basso_. Olivieri, who previously had been pronounced unapproachable in Portogallo's opera, was now looked upon as quite an inferior singer compared to the _buffo caricato_ who had so unexpectedly presented himself before the Udine public. Paer, in addition to his great, natural histrionic ability, knew every note of _la Donna_. Olivieri had studied only his own part. Paer, in directing the rehearsals, had made himself thoroughly acquainted with all of them, and gave a significance to some portions of the music which had never been expressed or apprehended by his now defeated, routed, utterly confounded rival.

[Sidenote: A SINGER'S INDISPOSITION.]

At present comes the dark side of the picture. Olivieri, dangerously ill the night before, was perfectly well the next morning, and quite ready to resume his part in _la Donna di genio volubile_. Paer, on the other hand, was quite willing to give it up to him; but both reckoned without the military connoisseurs of Udine, and above all without Bernadotte, who arrived the day after Paer's great success, when all the officers of the staff were talking of nothing else. Olivieri was announced to appear in his old character; but when the bill was shown to the General, he declared that the original representative might go back to bed, for that the only buffo he would listen to was the illustrious Paer. In vain the director explained that the composer was not engaged as a singer, and that nothing but the sudden indisposition of Olivieri would have induced him to appear on the stage at all. Bernadotte swore he would have Paer, and no one else; and as the unfortunate _impresario_ continued his objections, he was ordered into arrest, and informed that he should remain in prison until the _maestro_ Paer undertook once more the part of "Pippo" in Portogallo's opera.

The General then sent a company of grenadiers to surround Paer's house; but the composer had heard of what had befallen the manager, and, foreseeing his own probable fate, if he remained openly in Udine, had concealed himself, and spread a report that he was in the country. Lancers and hussars were dispatched in search of him, but naturally without effect. In the supposed absence of Paer, the army was obliged to accept Olivieri; and when six or seven representations of the popular opera had taken place and the military public had become accustomed to Olivieri's performance of the part of "Pippo," Paer came forth from his hiding place and suffered no more from the warlike dilettanti-ism of Bernadotte.

[Sidenote: MADAME FODOR AND THE COW.]

There would be no end to my anecdotes if I were to attempt to give a complete list of all those in which musicians and singers have been made to figure in connection with all sorts of events during the last great continental war. The great vocalists, and many of the great composers of the day, continued to travel about from city to city, and from court to court, as though Europe were still in a state of profound peace. Sometimes, as happened once to Paer, and was nearly happening to him a second time, they were taken prisoners; or they found themselves shut up in a besieged town; and a great _cantatrice_, Madame Fodor, who chanced to be engaged at the Hamburg opera when Hamburg was invested, was actually the cause of a _sortie_ being made in her favour. On one occasion, while she was singing, the audience was disturbed by a cannon ball coming through the roof of the theatre and taking its place in the gallery; but the performances continued nevertheless, and the officers and soldiers of the garrison continued to be delighted with their favourite vocalist. Madame Fodor, however, on her side, was beginning to get tired of her position; not that she cared much about the bombardment which was renewed from time to time, but because the supply of milk had failed, cows and oxen having been alike slaughtered for the sustenance of the beleaguered garrison. Without milk, Madame Fodor was scarcely able to sing; at least, she had so accustomed herself to drink it every evening during the intervals of performance, that she found it inconvenient and painful to do without it. Hearing in what a painful situation their beloved vocalist found herself, the French army gallantly resolved to remedy it without delay. The next evening a _sortie_ was effected, and a cow brought back in triumph. This cow was kept in the property and painting room in the theatre, above the stage, and was lowered like a drop scene, to be milked whenever Madame Fodor was thirsty. So, at least, says the operatic anecdote on the subject, though it would perhaps have been a more convenient proceeding to have sent some trustworthy person to perform the milking operation up stairs. In any case, the cow was kept carefully shut up and under guard. Otherwise the animal's life would not have been safe, so great was the scarcity of provision in Hamburg at the time, and so great the general hunger for beef of any kind.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: THE D'ENTRAIGUES' MURDER.]

Madame Huberti, after flying from Paris during the Reign of Terror, married the Count d'Entraigues, and would seem to have terminated her operatic career happily and honourably; but she was destined some years afterwards to die a horrible death. The countess always wore the order of St. Michael, which had been given to her by the then unacknowledged Louis XVIII., in token of the services she had rendered to the royalist party, by enabling her husband to escape from prison and preserving his portfolio which contained a number of political papers of great importance. The Count afterwards entered the service of Russia, and was entrusted by the government with several confidential missions. Hitherto he had been working in the interest of the Bourbons against Napoleon; but when the French emperor and the emperor Alexander formed an alliance, after the battles of Eylau and Friedland, he seems to have thought that his connexion with Russia ought to terminate. However this may have been, he found means to obtain a copy of the secret articles contained in the treaty of Tilsit[73] and hastened to London to communicate them to the English government. For this service he is said to have received a pension, and he now established himself in England, where he appears to have had continual relations with the foreign office. The French police heard how the Count d'Entraigues was employed in London, and Fouché sent over two agents to watch him and intercept his letters. These emissaries employed an Italian refugee, to get acquainted with and bribe Lorenzo, the Count's servant, who allowed his compatriot to read and even to take copies of the despatches frequently entrusted to him by his master to take to Mr. Canning. He, moreover, gave him a number of the Count's letters to and from other persons. One evening a letter was brought to M. d'Entraigues which obliged him to go early the next morning from his residence at Barnes to London. Lorenzo had observed the seal of the foreign office on the envelope, and saw that his treachery would soon be discovered. Everything was ready for the journey, when he stabbed his master, who fell to the ground mortally wounded. The Countess was getting into the carriage. To prevent her charging him with her husband's death, the servant also stabbed her, and a few moments afterwards, in confusion and despair, blew his own brains out with a pistol which he in the first instance appears to have intended for M. d'Entraigues. This horrible affair occurred on the 22nd of July, 1812.

Nothing fatal happened to Madame Colbran, though she was deeply mixed up with politics, her name being at one time quite a party word among the royalists at Naples. Those who admired the king made a point of admiring his favourite singer. A gentleman from England asked a friend one night at the Naples theatre how he liked the vocalist in question.

"Like her? I am a royalist," was the reply.

When the revolutionists gained the upper hand, Madame Colbran was hissed; but the discomfiture of the popular party was always followed by renewed triumphs for the singer.

Madame Colbran must not lead us on to her future husband, Rossini, whose epoch has not yet arrived. The mention of Paer's wife has already taken us far away from the composers in vogue at the end of the eighteenth century.

[Sidenote: IL MATRIMONIO SEGRETTO.]

Two of the three best comic operas ever produced, _Le Nozze di Figaro_ and _Il Matrimonio Segretto_ (I need scarcely name Rossini's _Il Barbiere di Siviglia_ as the third), were written for Vienna within six years (1786-1792), and at the special request of emperors of Germany. Cimarosa was returning from St. Petersburgh when Leopold II., Joseph the Second's successor, detained him at Vienna, and invited him to compose something for his theatre. The _maestro_ had not much time, but he did his best, and the result was, _Il Matrimonio Segretto_. The Emperor was delighted with the work, which seemed almost to have been improvised, and gave the composer twelve thousand francs, or, as some say, twelve thousand florins; in either case, a very liberal sum for the period when Cimarosa, Paisiello and Gughelmi had mutually agreed, whatever more they might receive for their operas, never to take less than two thousand four hundred francs.

The libretto of _Il Matrimonio Segretto_, by Bertatti, is imitated from that of a forgotten French operetta, _Sophie ou le Mariage Caché_, which is again founded on Garrick and Coleman's _Clandestine Marriage_. The Emperor Leopold was unable to be present at the first performance of Cimarosa's new work, but he heard of its enormous success, and determined not to miss a note at the second representation. He was in his box before the commencement of the overture, and listened to the performance throughout with the greatest attention, but without manifesting any opinion as to the merits of the music. As the Sovereign did not applaud, the brilliant audience who had assembled to hear _Il Matrimonio_ a second time, were obliged, by court etiquette, to remain silent without giving the slightest expression to the delight the music afforded them. This icy reception was very different to the one obtained by the opera the night before, when the marks of approbation from all parts of the house had been of the most enthusiastic kind. However, when the piece was at an end, the Emperor rose and said aloud--

"Bravo, Cimarosa, bravissimo! The whole opera is admirable, delightful, enchanting. I did not applaud that I might not lose a single note of this masterpiece. You have heard it twice, and I must have the same pleasure before I go to bed. Singers and musicians, pass into the next room! Cimarosa will come too, and will preside at the banquet prepared for you. When you have had sufficient rest we will begin again. I _encore_ the whole opera, and, in the mean while, let us applaud it as it deserves." Leopold clapped his hands, and for some minutes the whole theatre resounded with plaudits. After the banquet, the entire opera was repeated.

The only other example of such an occurrence as the above is to be found in the career of Terence, whose _Eunuchus_ on its first production, was performed twice the same day, or, rather, once in the morning, and once in the evening.

A similar amount of success obtained by Paer's _Laodicea_ had quite an opposite result; for, as nearly the whole opera was encored, piece by piece, it was found impossible to conclude it the same evening, and the performance of the last act was postponed until the next night.

Mozart's _Nozze di Figaro_, produced six years before the _Matrimonio Segretto_, was far less justly appreciated,--indeed, at Vienna, was not appreciated at all. This admirable work, so full of fresh spontaneous melody, and of rich, varied harmony was actually hissed by the Viennese! They even hissed _Non piu andrai_, which seems equally calculated to delight the educated and the most uneducated ear. Mozart has made allusion to this almost incredible instance of bad taste very happily and ingeniously in the supper scene of _Don Giovanni_.

[Sidenote: MOZART AND JOSEPH II.]

Joseph II. cared only for Italian music, and never gave his entire approbation to anything Mozart produced, though the musicians of the period acknowledged him to be the greatest composer in Europe.

"It is too fine for our ears," said the presumptuous Joseph, speaking to Mozart of the _Seraglio_. "Seriously, I think there are too many notes."

"Precisely the proper number," replied the composer.

The Emperor rewarded his frankness by giving him only fifty ducats for his opera.[74]

Nevertheless, the _Seraglio_ had caused the success of one of the emperor's favourite enterprises. It was the first work produced at the German Opera, established by Joseph II., at Vienna. Until that time, Italian opera predominated everywhere; indeed, German opera, that is to say, lyric dramas in the German language, set to music by German composers, and sung by German singers, could not be said to exist. There were a number of Italian musicians living at Vienna who were quite aware of Mozart's superiority, and hated him for it; the more so, as by taking such an important part in the establishment of the German Opera, he threatened to diminish the reputation of the Italian school. The _Entführung aus dem Serail_ was the first blow to the supremacy of Italian opera. Der _Schauspieldirector_ was the second, and when, after the production of this latter work at the new German theatre of Vienna, Mozart proceeded to write the _Nozze di Figaro_ for the Italians, he simply placed himself in the hands of his enemies. At the first representation, the two first acts of the _Nozze_ were so shamefully executed, that the composer went in despair to the emperor to denounce the treachery of which he was being made the victim. Joseph had detected the conspiracy and was nearly as indignant as Mozart himself. He sent a severe message round to the stage, but the harm was now done, and the remainder of the opera was listened to very coldly. _Le Nozze di Figaro_ failed at Vienna, and was not appreciated, did not even get a fair hearing, until it was produced some months afterwards at Prague. The Slavonians of Bohemia showed infinitely more good taste and intelligence than the Germans (led away and demoralized, however, by an Italian clique) at Vienna. At Prague, _le Nozze di Figaro_ caused the greatest enthusiasm, and Mozart replied nobly to the sympathy and admiration of the Bohemians. "These good people," he said, "have avenged me. They know how to do me justice, I must write something to please them." He kept his word, and the year afterwards gave them the immortal _Don Giovanni_.

[Sidenote: MOZART AND SALIERI.]

At the head of the clique which had sworn eternal enmity to Mozart, was Salieri, a musician with a sort of Pontius Pilate reputation, owing his infamous celebrity to the fact that his name is now inseparably coupled with that of the sublime composer whom he would have destroyed. Salieri (whom we have met with before in Paris as the would-be successor of Gluck) was the most learned of the Italian composers at that time residing in Vienna; and, therefore, must have felt the greatness of Mozart's genius more profoundly than any of the others. When _Don Giovanni_, after its success at Prague, was produced at Vienna, it was badly put on the stage, imperfectly rehearsed, and represented altogether in a very unsatisfactory manner. Nor, with improved execution did the audience show any disposition to appreciate its manifold beauties. Mozart's _Don Giovanni_ was quite eclipsed by the _Assur_ of his envious and malignant rival.

"I will leave it to psychologists to determine," says M. Oulibicheff,[75] "whether the day on which Salieri triumphed publicly over Mozart, was the happiest or the most painful of his life. He triumphed, indeed, thanks to the ignorance of the Viennese, to his own skill as a director, (which enabled him to render the work of his rival scarcely recognisable), and to the entire devotion of his subordinates. He must have been pleased; but Salieri was not only envious, he was also a great musician. He had read the score of _Don Giovanni_, and you know that the works one reads with the greatest attention are those of one's enemies. With what admiration and despair it must have filled the heart of an artist who was even more ambitious of true glory than of mere renown! What must he have felt in his inmost soul! And what serpents must again have crawled and hissed in the wreath of laurel which was placed on his head! In spite of the fiasco of his opera, which he seems to have foreseen, and to which, at all events, he resigned himself with great calmness, Mozart, doubtless, more happy than his conqueror, added a few 'numbers,' each a masterpiece to his score. Four new pieces were written for it, at the request of the Viennese singers."

M. Oulibicheff's compatriot Poushkin has written an admirable study on the subject presented above in a few suggestive phrases by Mozart's biographer. Unfortunately, it is impossible in these volumes to find a place for the Russian poet's "Mozart and Salieri."

After the failure of _Don Giovanni_ at Vienna, a number of persons were speaking of it in a room where Haydn and the principal connoisseurs of the place were assembled. Every one agreed in pronouncing it a most estimable work, but, also, every one had something to say against it. At last, Haydn, who, hitherto, had not spoken a word, was asked to give his opinion.

"I do not feel myself in a position to decide this dispute," he answered. "All I know and can assure you of is that Mozart is the greatest composer of our time."

[Sidenote: DON GIOVANNI.]

As Salieri's _Assur_ completely eclipsed _Don Giovanni_, so, previously, did Martini's _Cosa Rara_, the _Nozze di Figaro_. Both these phenomena manifested themselves at Vienna, and the reader has already been reminded that the fate of the _Nozze di Figaro_ is alluded to in _Don Giovanni_. All the airs played by the hero's musicians in the supper scene are taken from the operas which were most in vogue when Mozart produced his great work; such as _La Cosa Rara_, _Frà due Litiganti terzo gode_, and _I Pretendenti Burlati_. Leporello calls attention to the melodies as the orchestra on the stage plays them, and when, to terminate the series, the clarionets strike up _Non piu andrai_, he exclaims _Questo lo conosco pur troppo!_ "I know this one only too well!" With the exception of _Non piu andrai_, which the Viennese could not tolerate the first time they heard it, none of the airs introduced in the _Don Giovanni_ supper scene would be known in the present day, but for _Don Giovanni_.

* * * * *

_Don Giovanni_, composed by Mozart to _Da Ponte's_ libretto (which is founded on Molière's _Festin de Pierre_, which is imitated from Tirso di Molina's _El Burlador di Siviglia_, which seems to have had its origin in a very ancient legend[76]), was produced at Prague, on the 4th of November, 1787. The subject had already been treated in a ballet, in four acts, for which Gluck wrote the music (produced at Parma in 1758; and long before the production of Mozart's _Don Giovanni_, it had been dramatised in some shape or other in almost every country in Europe, and especially in Spain, Italy, and France, where several versions of the Italian _Il Convitato di Pietra_ were being played, when Molière first brought out his so-called _Festin de Pierre_. The original cast of _Don Giovanni_ at Prague was as follows:--

_Donna Anna_, Teresa Saporiti.
_Elvira_, Catarina Micelli.
_Zerlina_, Madame Bondini (Catarina Saporiti).
_Don Giovanni_, Bassi (Luigi).
_Ottavio_, Baglioni (Antonio).
_Leporello_, Ponziani (Felice).
_Don Pedro_, Lolli (Guiseppe).
_Masetto_, the same.

Righini, of Bologna, had produced his opera of _Don Giovanni, ossia il Convitato di Pietra_, at Prague, only eight years before, for which reason the title of _Il Dissoluto Punito_ was given to Mozart's work. It was not until some years afterwards that it received the name by which it is now universally known.

[Sidenote: DON GIOVANNI.]

Although the part of _Don Giovanni_ was written for a baritone, tenors, such as Tacchinardi and Garcia, have often played it, and frequently with greater success than the majority of baritones have obtained. But no individual success of a favourite singer can compensate for the transpositions and changes that have to be effected in Mozart's masterpiece, when the character of the hero is assigned to a vocalist who cannot execute the music which of right belongs to it. It has been said that Mozart wrote the part of _Don Giovanni_ for a baritone, because it so happened that the baritone at the Prague theatre, Bassi, was the best singer of the company; but it is not to be imagined that the musical characterization of the personages in the most truly dramatic opera ever written, was the result of anything but the composer's well-considered design. "_Don Giovanni_ was not intended for Vienna, but for Prague," Mozart is reported to have said. "The truth, however, is," he added, "that I wrote it for myself, and a few friends." Accordingly, the great composer was not thinking of Bassi at the time. It would be easy, moreover, to show, that though the most feminine of male voices may suit the ordinary _jeune premier_, or _premier amoureux_, there is nothing tenor-like in the temperament of a _Don Giovanni_; deceiving all women, defying all men, breaking all laws, human and divine, and an unbeliever in everything--even in the power of equestrian statues to get off their horses, and sit down to supper.

[Sidenote: DON GIOVANNI.]

But, let us not consider whether or not _Fin ch' han dal vino_ is improved by being sung (as tenor _Don Giovannis_ sometimes sing it) a fourth higher than it was written by Mozart; or whether it is tolerable that the concerted pieces in which _Don Giovanni_ takes part should be, not transposed (for that would be insufficient, or, rather, would increase the difficulties of execution) but so altered, that in some passages the original design of the composer is entirely perverted. Let us simply repeat the maxim, on which it is impossible to lay too much stress, that the work of a great master should not be touched, re-touched, or in any manner interfered with, under any pretext. There is, absolutely, no excuse for managers mutilating _Don Giovanni_; not even the excuse that in its original form this inexhaustible opera does not "draw." It has already lived, and with full, unfailing life, for three-quarters of a century. It has survived all sorts of revolutions in taste, and especially in musical taste. There are now no Emperors of Germany. Prague has become a third-rate city. That German Opera, which Mozart originated with his _Entführung aus dem Serail_, has attained a grand development, and among its composers has numbered Beethoven, Weber, and the latter's follower, and occasional imitator, Meyerbeer. Rossini has appeared with his seductive melody, and his brilliant, sonorous orchestra. But justice is still--more than ever--done to Mozart. The verdict of Prague is maintained; and this year, as ten, twenty, forty years ago, if the manager of the Italian Opera of London, Paris, or St. Petersburgh, has had for some time past a series of empty houses, he takes an opera, seventy-four years of age, and which, according to all ordinary musical calculations, ought long since to have had, at least, one act in the grave, dresses it badly, puts it badly on the stage, with such scenery as would be thought unworthy of Verdi, and hazardous for Meyerbeer, announces _Don Giovanni_, and every place in the theatre is taken!

* * * * *

Although Mozart's genius was fully acknowledged by the greatest musicians, among his contemporaries (the reader already knows what Haydn said of him, and what Cimarosa replied when he was addressed as his superior), his music found an echo in the hearts of only a very small portion of the ordinary public. Admired at Prague, condemned at Vienna, unknown in the rest of Europe, it may be said, with only too much truth, that Mozart's master-pieces, speaking generally, met with no recognition until after his death; with no fitting recognition until long afterwards. From the slow, strong, oak-like growth of Mozart's fame, now flourishing, and still increasing every day, we may see, not for his name alone, but for his music, a continued celebrity and popularity, which will probably endure as long as our modern civilization. I have already spoken of the effects of the last general war in checking literary and artistic communication between the nations of Europe. This will, in part, account for Mozart's master-piece not having been performed at the Italian Opera of Paris until 1811, nor in London until after the peace, in 1817. In the Paris cast, the part of _Don Giovanni_ was assigned to a tenor, Tacchinardi; and when the opera was revived at the same theatre (which was not until nine years afterwards), Tacchinardi was replaced by Garcia.

The first "Don Giovanni" who appeared in London, was the celebrated baritone, Ambrogetti. Among the other distinguished singers who have appeared as "Don Giovanni," with great success, may be mentioned Nourrit, the tenor; Lablache (in 1832), before he had identified himself with the part of "Leporello;" Tamburini, and I suppose I must now add, Mario; though this great artist has been seen and heard to more advantage in other characters. The last great "Don Giovanni" known to the present generation was Signor Tamburini. It is a remarkable fact, well worth the consideration of managers, who are inclined to take liberties with Mozart's master-piece, that when Garcia, the tenor, appeared in London as "Don Giovanni," after Ambrogetti, the baritone, he produced comparatively but little effect; though Garcia was one of the most accomplished musicians, and, probably, the very best singer of his day.

Without going back again to the original cast, I may notice among the most celebrated Donna Annas, Madame Ronzi de Begnis, Mademoiselle Sontag, Madame Grisi, Mademoiselle Sophie Cruvelli, and Mademoiselle Titiens.

Among the Zerlinas, Madame Fodor, Madame Malibran, Madame Persiani[77], and Madame Bosio.

[Sidenote: DON GIOVANNI.]

Among the Don Ottavios, Rubini and Mario.

Porto is said to have been particularly admirable as Masetto, and Angrisani and Angelini as the commandant.

Certainly, no one living has heard a better Leporello than Lablache.

Mr. Ebers tells us, in his "Seven Years of the King's Theatre," that _Don Giovanni_ was brought out by Mr. Ayrton in 1817, "in opposition to a vexatious cabal," and "in despite of difficulties of many kinds which would have deterred a less decided and persevering manager." Nevertheless, "it filled the boxes and benches of the theatre for the whole season, and restored to a flourishing condition the finances of the concern, which were in an almost exhausted state."

* * * * *

[Sidenote: DIPLOMATISTS AND DANCERS.]

The war, so injurious to the Opera, had a still more disastrous effect on the ballet, a fact for which we have the authority of the manager and author from whom I have just quoted. "The procrastinated war," says Mr. Ebers, "which, until the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, had kept England and France in hostilities, had rendered the importation of dancers from the latter country almost impracticable." Mr. Waters, Mr. Ebers' predecessor, had repeatedly endeavoured to prevail on French dancers to come to England, "either with the _congés_, if attainable, or by such clandestine means as could be carried into effect." He failed; and we are told that his want of success in this respect was one cause of the disagreement between himself and the committee of the theatre, which led soon afterwards to his abandoning the management. Mr. Ebers, however, testifies from his own experience to the almost insuperable difficulty of inducing the directors of the French Opera to cede any of their principal performers even for a few weeks to the late enemies of their country. When the dancers were willing to accept the terms offered to them, it was impossible to obtain leave from the minister entrusted with the supreme direction of operatic affairs; if the minister was willing, then objections came from the ballet itself. It was necessary to secure the aid of the highest diplomatists, and the engagement of a few first dancers and _coryphées_ was made as important an affair as the signing of a treaty of commerce. The special envoy, the Cobden of the affair, was Monsieur Boisgerard, an ex-officer in the French army under the Bourbons, and actually the second ballet-master of the King's Theatre; but all official correspondence connected with the negotiation had to be transmitted through the medium of the English ambassador at Paris to the Baron de la Ferté. Boisgerard arrived in Paris furnished with letters of introduction from the five noblemen who at that time formed a "committee of superintendence" to aid Mr. Ebers in the management of the King's Theatre, and directed all his attention and energy towards forming an engagement with Bigottini and Noblet, the principal _danseuses_, and Albert, the _premier danseur_ of the French Opera. In spite of his excellent recommendations, of the esteem in which he was himself held by his numerous friends in Paris, and of the interest of a dancer named Deshayes, who appears to have readily joined in the conspiracy, and who was afterwards rewarded for his aid with a lucrative engagement as first ballet-master at the London Opera House--in spite of all these advantages it was impossible, for some time, to obtain any concessions from the Académie. To begin with, Bigottini, Noblet and Albert refused point blank to leave Paris. M. Boisgerard, however, as a ballet-master and a man of the world, understood that this was intended only as an invitation for larger offers; and finally all three were engaged, conditionally on their _congés_ being obtained from the directors of the theatre. Now the real difficulty began; now the influence of the five English noblemen was brought to bear; now despatches were interchanged between the British ambassador in Paris and the Baron de la Ferté, intendant of the royal theatres; now consultations took place between the said intendant and the Viscount de la Rochefoucault, aide-de-camp of the king, entrusted with the department of fine arts in the ministry of the king's household; and between the said artistic officer of the king's household and Duplanty, the administrator of the Royal Academy of Music, and of the Italian Opera. The result of all this negotiation was, that the administration first hesitated and finally refused to allow Mademoiselle Bigottini to visit England on any terms; but, after considerable trouble, the French agents in the service of Mr. Ebers obtained permission for Albert and Noblet to accept engagements for two months,--it being further arranged that, at the expiration of that period, they should be replaced by Coulon and Fanny Bias. Albert was to receive fifty pounds for every night of performance, and twenty-five pounds for his travelling expenses. Noblet's terms were five hundred and fifty pounds for the two months, with twenty-five pounds for expenses. Coulon and Bias were each to receive the same terms as Noblet. Three other dancers, Montessu, Lacombe, and Mademoiselle de Varennes, were at the same time given over to Mr. Ebers for an entire season, and he was allowed to retain all his prisoners--that is to say, those members of the Académie, with Mademoiselle Mélanie at their head, whom previous managers had taken from the French prior to the friendly and pacific embassy of M. Boisgerard. An attempt was made to secure the services of Mademoiselle Elisa, but without avail. M. and Mademoiselle Paul entered into an agreement, but the administration refused to ratify it; otherwise, with a little encouragement, Mr. Ebers would probably have engaged the entire ballet of the Académie Royale.

[Sidenote: MADEMOISELLE NOBLET.]

Male dancers have, I am glad to think, never been much esteemed in England; and Albert, though successful enough, produced nothing like the same impression in London which he was in the habit of causing in Paris. Mademoiselle Noblet's dancing, on the other hand, excited the greatest enthusiasm, and the subscribers made all possible exertions to obtain a prolongation of her _congé_ when the time for her return to the Académie arrived. Noblet's performance in the ballet of _Nina_ (of which the subject is identical with that of Paisiello's opera of the same name) is said to have been particularly admirable, especially for the great dramatic talent which she exhibited in pourtraying the heroine's melancholy madness. _Nina_ was announced for Mademoiselle Noblet's benefit, on a night not approved by the Lord Chamberlain--either because it interfered with some of the court regulations, or for some other reason not explained. The secretary to the committee of the Opera was directed to address a letter to the Chamberlain, representing to him how inconvenient it would be to postpone the benefit, as the _congé_ of the _bénéficiaire_ was now on the point of expiring. Lord Hertford, with becoming politeness, wrote the following letter, which shows with what deep interest the graceful dancer inspired even those who knew her only by reputation. The letter was addressed to the Marquis of Ailesbury, one of the members of the operatic committee.

"MY DEAR LORD,--I have this moment (eleven o'clock) received your
letter, which I have sent to the Chamberlain's office to Mr. Mash;
and as Mademoiselle Noblet is a very pretty woman as I am told, I
hope she will call there to assist in the solicitation which
interests her so much. Not having been for many years at the opera,
except for the single purpose of attending his majesty, I am no
judge of the propriety of her request or the objections which may
arise to the postponement of her benefit for one day at so short a
notice. I hope the fair solicitress will be prepared with an answer
on this part of the subject, as it is always my wish to accommodate
you; and I remain most sincerely your very faithful servant,

"INGRAM HERTFORD."

"Manchester Square,

_April 29th, 1821_."

Mademoiselle Noblet's benefit having taken place, the subscribers,
horrified at the notion that they had now, perhaps, seen her for
the last time, determined, in spite of all obstacles, in spite even
of the very explicit agreement between the director of the King's
Theatre and the administration of the Académie Royale, that she
should remain in London. The _danseuse_ was willing enough to
prolong her stay, but the authorities at the French Opera
protested. The Academy of Music was not going to be deprived in
this way of one of the greatest ornaments of its ballet, and the
Count de Caraman, on behalf of the Academy, called on the committee
to direct Mr. Ebers to send over to Paris, without delay, the
performers whose _congés_ were now at an end. The members of the
committee replied that they had only power to interfere as regarded
the choice of operas and ballets, and that they had nothing to do
with agreements between the manager and the performers. They added,
"that they had certainly employed their influence with the English
ambassador at Paris at the commencement of the season, to obtain
the best artists from that city; but it appearing that the Academy
was not disposed to grant _congés_ for London, even to artists, for
whose services the Academy had no occasion, the committee had
determined not again to meddle in that branch of the management."

[Sidenote: TERPSICHOREAN TREATY.]

The French now sent over an ambassador extraordinary, the Baron de la Ferté himself, to negotiate for the restoration of the deserters. It was decided, however, that they should be permitted to remain until the end of the season; and, moreover, that two first and two second dancers should be allowed annually to come to London, but only under the precise stipulations contained in the following treaty, which was signed between Mr. Ebers, on the one hand, and M. Duplantys on the part of Viscount de la Rochefoucault, on the other.

"The administration of the Theatre of the Royal Academy of Music, wishing to facilitate to the administration of the theatre of London, the means of making known the French artists of the ballet without this advantage being prejudicial to the Opera of Paris;

"Consents to grant to Mr. Ebers for each season, the first commencing on the 10th of January, and ending the 20th of April, and the second ending the 1st of August, two first dancers, two _figurants_, and two _figurantes_; but in making this concession, the administration of the Royal Academy of Music reserves the right of only allowing those dancers to leave Paris to whom it may be convenient to grant a _congé_; this rule applies equally to the _figurants_ and _figurantes_. None of them can leave the Paris theatre except by the formal permission of the authorities.

"And in return for these concessions, Mr. Ebers promises to engage no dancer until he has first obtained the necessary authorization in accordance with his demand.

"He engages not under any pretext to keep the principal dancers a longer time than has been agreed without a fresh permission, and above all, to make them no offers with the view of enticing them from their permanent engagements with the French authorities.

"The present treaty is for the space of * * *.

"In case of Mr. Ebers failing in one of the articles of the said treaty, the whole treaty becomes null and void."

[Sidenote: BOISGERARD IN THE TEMPLE.]

[Sidenote: MARIA MERCANDOTTI.]

The prime mover in the diplomatic transactions which had the effect of securing Mademoiselle Noblet far the London Opera was, as I have said, the ballet master, Boisgerard, formerly an officer in the French army. In a chapter which is intended to show to some extent the effect on opera of the disturbed state of Europe consequent on the French Revolution, it will, perhaps, not be out of place to relate a very daring exploit performed by the said M. Boisgerard, which was the cause of his adopting an operatic career. "This gentleman," says Mr. Ebers, in the account published by him of his administration of the King's Theatre from 1821 to 1828, "was a Frenchman of good extraction, and at the period of the French Revolution, was attached to the royal party. When Sir Sidney Smith was confined in the Temple, Boisgerard acted up to his principles by attempting, and with great personal risk, effecting the escape of that distinguished officer, whose friends were making every effort for his liberation. Having obtained an impression of the seal of the Directorial Government, he affixed it to an order, forged by himself, for the delivery of Sir Sidney Smith into his care. Accompanied by a friend, disguised like himself, in the uniform of an officer of the revolutionary army, he did not scruple personally to present the fictitious document to the keeper of the Temple, who, opening a small closet, took thence some original document, with the writing and seal of which, he carefully compared the forged order. Desiring the adventurers to wait a few minutes, he then withdrew, and locked the door after him. Giving themselves up for lost, the confederate determined to resist, sword in hand, any attempt made to secure them. The period which thus elapsed, may be imagined as one of the most horrible suspense to Boisgerard and his companion; his own account of his feelings at the time was extremely interesting. Left alone, and in doubt whether each succeeding moment might not be attended by a discovery involving the safety of his life, the acuteness of his organs of sense was heightened to painfulness; the least noise thrilled through his brain, and the gloomy apartment in which he sat seemed filled with strange images. They preserved their self-possession, and, after the lapse of a few minutes, their anxiety was determined by the re-appearance of the gaoler, accompanied by his captive, who was delivered to Boisgerard. But here a new and unlooked for difficulty occurred; Sir Sidney Smith, not knowing Boisgerard, refused, for some time, to quit the prison; and considerable address was required on the part of his deliverers to overcome his scruples. At last, the precincts of the Temple were cleared; and, after going a short distance in a fiacre, then walking, then entering another carriage, and so on, adopting every means of baffling pursuit, the fugitives got to Havre, where Sir Sidney was put on board an English vessel. Boisgerard, on his return to Paris (for he quitted Sir Sidney at Havre) was a thousand times in dread of detection; tarrying at an _auberge_, he was asked whether he had heard the news of Sir Sidney's escape; the querist adding, that four persons had been arrested on suspicion of having been instrumental in it. However, he escaped all these dangers, and continued at Paris until his visit to England, which took place after the peace of Amiens. A pension had been granted to Sir Sidney Smith for his meritorious services; and, on Boisgerard's arrival here, a reward of a similar nature was bestowed on him through the influence of Sir Sidney, who took every opportunity of testifying his gratitude."

We have already seen that though the international character of the Opera must always be seriously interfered with by international wars, the intelligent military amateur may yet be able to turn his European campaigning to some operatic advantage. The French officers acquired a taste for Italian music in Italy. So an English officer serving in the Peninsula, imbibed a passion for Spanish dancing, to which was due the choregraphic existence of the celebrated Maria Mercandotti,--by all accounts one of the most beautiful girls and one of the most charming dancers that the world ever saw. This inestimable treasure was discovered by Lord Fife--a keen-eyed connoisseur, who when Maria was but a child, foretold the position she would one day occupy, if her mother would but allow her to join the dancing school of the French Academy. Madame Mercandotti brought her daughter to England when she was fifteen. The young Spaniard danced a bolero one night at the Opera, repeated it a few days afterwards at Brighton, before Queen Charlotte, and then set off to Paris, where she joined the Académie. After a very short period of study, she made her _début_ with success, such as scarcely any dancer had obtained at the French Opera, since the time of La Camargo--herself, by the way, a Spaniard.

Mademoiselle Mercandotti came to London, was received with the greatest enthusiasm, was the fashionable theme of one entire operatic season, had a number of poems, valuable presents, and offers of undying affection addressed to her, and ended by marrying Mr. Hughes Ball.

The production of this _danseuse_ appears to have seen the last direct result of that scattering of the amateurs of one nation among the artists of another, which was produced by the European convulsions of from 1789 to 1815.