Chapter XVI: Rossini and His Period

[Sidenote: ROSSINI.]

Innovators in art, whether corrupters or improvers, are always sure to meet with opposition from a certain number of persons who have formed their tastes in some particular style which has long been a source of delight to them, and to interfere with which is to shock all their artistic sympathies. How often have we seen poets of one generation not ignored, but condemned and vilified by the critics and even by the poets themselves of the generation preceding it. Musicians seem to suffer even more than poets from this injustice of those who having contracted a special and narrow admiration for the works of their own particular epoch, will see no merit in the productions of any newer school that may arrive. Byron, Shelley, Keats, Tennyson have one and all been attacked, and their poetic merit denied by those who in several instances had given excellent proofs of their ability to appreciate poetry. Almost every distinguished composer of the last fifty years has met with the same fate, not always at the hands of the ignorant public, for it is this ignorant public with its naïve, uncritical admiration, which has sometimes been the first to do justice to the critic-reviled poets and composers, but at those of musicians and of educated amateurs. Ignorance, prejudice, malice, are the causes too often assigned for the non-appreciation of the artist of to-day by the art-lover, partly of to-day, but above all of yesterday. It should be remembered however, that there is a conservatism in taste as in politics, and that both have their advantages, though the lovers of noise and of revolution may be unable to see them; that the extension of the suffrage, the excessive use of imagery, the special cultivation of brilliant orchestral effects, may, in the eyes of many, really seem injurious to the true interests of government, poetry and music; finally that as in old age we find men still keeping more or less to the costumes of their prime, and as the man who during the best days of his life has habituated himself to drink port, does not suddenly acquire a taste for claret, or _vice versâ_,--so those who had accustomed their musical stomachs to the soft strains of Paisiello and Cimarosa, _could not_ enjoy the sparkling, stimulating music of Rossini. So afterwards to the Rossinians, Donizetti poured forth nothing but what was insipid and frivolous; Bellini was languid and lackadaisical; Meyerbeer with his restlessness and violence, his new instruments, his drum songs, trumpet songs, fencing and pistol songs, tinder-box music, skating scenes and panoramic effects, was a noisy _charlatan_; Verdi, with his abruptness, his occasional vulgarity and his general melodramatic style, a mere musical Fitzball.

It most not be supposed, however, that I believe in the constant progress of art; that I look upon Meyerbeer as equal to Weber, or Weber as superior to Mozart. It is quite certain that Rossini has not been approached in facility, in richness of invention, in gaiety, in brilliancy, in constructiveness, or in true dramatic power by any of the Italian, French, or German theatrical composers who have succeeded him, though nearly all have imitated him one way or another: I will exclude Weber alone, an original genius, belonging entirely to Germany[80] and to himself. It is, at least, quite certain that Rossini is by far the greatest of the series of Italian composers, which begins with himself and seems to have ended with Verdi; and yet, while neither Verdi nor Bellini, nor Donizetti, were at all justly appreciated in this country when they first made their appearance, Rossini was--not merely sneered at and pooh-poohed; he was for a long time condemned and abused every where, and on the production of some of his finest works was hissed and hooted in the theatres of his native land. But the human heart is not so black as it is sometimes painted, and the Italian audiences who whistled and screeched at the _Barber of Seville_ did so chiefly because they did not like it. It was not the sort of music which had hitherto given them pleasure, and therefore they were not pleased.

[Sidenote: ROSSINI'S BIOGRAPHERS.]

Rossini had already composed several operas for various Italian theatres (among which may be particularly mentioned _L'Italiana in Algeri_, written for Venice in 1813, the composer having then just attained his majority) when the _Barbiere di Siviglia_ was produced at Rome for the Carnival of 1816. The singers were Vitarelli, Boticelli, Zamboni, Garcia and Mesdames Giorgi-Righetti, and Rossi. A number of different versions of the circumstances which attended, preceded, and followed the representation of this opera, have been published, but the account furnished by Madame Giorgi-Righetti, who introduced the music of Rossini to the world, is the one most to be relied upon and which I shall adopt. I may first of all remind the reader that a very interesting life of Rossini, written with great _verve_ and spirit, full of acute observations, but also full of misstatements and errors of all kinds,[81] has been published by Stendhal, who was more than its translator, but not its author. Stendhal's "Vie de Rossini" is founded on a work by the Abbé Carpani. To what extent the ingenious author of the treatise _De l'Amour_, and of the admirable novel _La Charteuse de Parme_, is indebted to the Abbé, I cannot say; but if he borrowed from him his supposed facts, and his opinions as a musician, he owes him all the worst portion of his book. The brothers Escudier have also published a "Vie de Rossini," which is chiefly valuable for the list of his works, and the dates of their production.

[Sidenote: THE BARBER OF SEVILLE.]

To return to the _Barber of Seville_, of which the subject was librsuggested to Rossini by the author of the _libretto_, Sterbini. Sterbini proposed to arrange it for music in a new form; Rossini acquiesced, and the librettists went to work. The report was soon spread that Rossini was about to reset Paisiello's libretto. For this some accused Rossini of presumption, while others said that in taking Paisiello's subject he was behaving meanly and unjustly. This was absurd, for all Metastasio's lyrical dramas have been set to music by numbers of composers; but this fact was not likely to be taken into consideration by Rossini's enemies. Paisiello himself took part in the intrigues against the young composer, and wrote a letter from Naples, begging one of his friends at Rome to leave nothing undone that could contribute to the failure of the second _Barber_. When the night of representation, at the Argentina Theatre, arrived, Rossini's enemies were all at their posts, declaring openly what they hoped and intended should be the fate of the new opera. His friends, on the other hand, were not nearly so decided, remembering, as they did, the uncomplimentary manner in which Rossini's _Torvaldo_ had been received only a short time before. The composer, says Madame Giorgi-Righetti "was weak enough to allow Garcia to sing beneath Rosina's balcony a Spanish melody of his own arrangement. Garcia maintained, that as the scene was in Spain the Spanish melody would give the drama an appropriate local colour; but, unfortunately, the artist who reasoned so well, and who was such an excellent singer, forgot to tune his guitar before appearing on the stage as "Almaviva." He began the operation in the presence of the public. A string broke. The vocalist proceeded to replace it; but before he could do so, laughter and hisses were heard from all parts of the house. The Spanish air, when Garcia was at last ready to sing it, did not please the Italian audience, and the pit listened to it just enough to be able to give an ironical imitation of it afterwards.

The introduction to Figaro's air seemed to be liked; but when Zamboni entered, with another guitar in his hand, a loud laugh was set up, and not a phrase of _Largo al factotum_ was heard. When Rosina made her appearance in the balcony, the public were quite prepared to applaud Madame Giorgi-Righetti in an air which they thought they had a right to expect from her; but only hearing her utter a phrase which led to nothing, the expressions of disapprobation recommenced. The duet between "Almaviva" and "Figaro" was accompanied throughout with hissing and shouting. The fate of the work seemed now decided.

At length Rosina came on, and sang the _cavatina_ which had so long been looked for. Madame Giorgi-Righetti was young, had a fresh beautiful voice, and was a great favourite with the Roman public. Three long rounds of applause followed the conclusion of her air, and gave some hope that the opera might yet be saved. Rossini, who was at the orchestral piano, bowed to the public, then turned towards the singer, and whispered "_oh natura_!"

This happy moment did not last, and the hisses recommenced with the duet between Figaro and Rosina. The noise increased, and it was impossible to hear a note of the finale. When the curtain fell Rossini turned towards the public, shrugged his shoulders and clapped his hands. The audience were deeply offended by this openly-expressed contempt for their opinion, but they made no reply at the time.

The vengeance was reserved for the second act, of which not a note passed the orchestra. The hubbub was so great, that nothing like it was ever heard at any theatre. Rossini in the meanwhile remained perfectly calm, and afterwards went home as composed as if the work, received in so insulting a manner, had been the production of some other musician. After changing their clothes, Madame Giorgi-Righetti, Garcia, Zamboni, and Botticelli, went to his house to console him in his misfortune. They found him fast asleep.

[Sidenote: THE BARBER OF SEVILLE.]

The next day he wrote the delightful _cavatina, Ecco ridente il cielo_, to replace Garcia's unfortunate Spanish air. The melody of the new solo was borrowed from the opening chorus of _Aureliano in Palmira_, written by Rossini in 1814, for Milan, and produced without success; the said chorus having itself figured before in the same composer's _Ciro_ in _Babilonia_, also unfavourably received. Garcia read his _cavatina_ as it was written, and sang it the same evening. Rossini, having now made the only alteration he thought necessary, went back to bed, and pretended to be ill, that he might not have to take his place in the evening at the piano.

At the second performance, the Romans seemed disposed to listen to the work of which they had really heard nothing the night before. This was all that was needed to ensure the opera's triumphant success. Many of the pieces were applauded; but still no enthusiasm was exhibited. The music, however, pleased more and more with each succeeding representation, until at last the climax was reached, and _Il Barbiere_ produced those transports of admiration among the Romans with which it was afterwards received in every town in Italy, and in due time throughout Europe. It must be added, that a great many connoisseurs at Rome were struck from the first moment with the innumerable beauties of Rossini's score, and went to his house to congratulate him on its excellence. As for Rossini, he was not at all surprised at the change which took place in public opinion. He was as certain of the success of his work the first night, when it was being hooted, as he was a week afterwards, when every one applauded it to the skies.

[Sidenote: THE BARBER OF SEVILLE.]

In Paris, more than three years afterwards, with Garcia still playing the part of "Almaviva," and with Madame Ronzi de Begnis as "Rosina," _Il Barbiere_ was not much better received than on its first production at Rome. It was less astonishing that it should fail before an audience of Parisians (at that time quite unacquainted with Rossini's style) than before a highly musical public like that of Rome. In each case, the work of Paisiello was made the excuse for condemning that of Rossini; but Rossini's _Barber_ was not treated with indignity at the Italian Theatre of Paris. It was simply listened to very coldly. Every one was saying, that after Paisiello's opera it was nothing, that the two were not to be compared, &c., when, fortunately, some one proposed that Paisiello's _Barber_ should be revived. Paer, the director of the music, and who is said to have been rendered very uneasy by Rossini's Italian successes, thought that to crush Rossini by means of his predecessor, was no bad idea. The St. Petersburgh _Barber_ of 1788 was brought out; but it was found that he had grown old and feeble; or, rather, the simplicity of the style was no longer admired, and the artists who had already lost the traditions of the school, were unable to sing the music with any effect. Rossini's _Barber_ has now been before the world for nearly half a century, and we all know whether it is old-fashioned; whether the airs are tedious; whether the form of the concerted pieces, and of the grand finale, leaves anything to be desired; whether the instrumentation is poor; whether, in short, on any one point, any subsequent work of the same kind even by Rossini himself, has surpassed, equalled, or even approached it. But the thirty years of Paisiello's Barber bore heavily upon the poor old man, and he was found sadly wanting in that gaiety and brilliancy which have given such celebrity to Rossini's hero, and after which Beaumarchais's sparkling epigrammatic dialogue appears almost dull.[82] Paisiello's opera was a complete failure. And when Rossini's _Barbiere_ was brought out again, every one was struck by the contrast. It profited by the very artifice which was to have destroyed it, and Rossini's enemies took care for the future not to establish comparisons between Rossini and Paisiello. Madame Ronzi de Begnis, too, had been replaced very advantageously by Madame Fodor. With two such admirable singers as Fodor and Garcia in the parts of "Rosina" and "Almaviva," with Pellegrini as "Figaro," and Begnis as "Basil," the success of the opera increased with each representation: and though certain musical _quid-nuncs_ continued to shake their heads when Rossini's name was mentioned in a drawing-room, his reputation with the great body of the theatrical public was now fully established.

The _tirana_ composed by Garcia _Se il mio nome saper voi bramate_, which he appears to have abandoned after the unfavourable manner in which it was received at Rome, was afterwards re-introduced into the _Barber_ by Rubini.

The whole of the _Barber of Seville_ was composed from beginning to end in a month. _Ecco ridente il cielo_ (the air adapted from _Aureliano in Palmira_) was, as already mentioned, added after the first representation. The overture, moreover, had been previously written for _Aureliano in Palmira_, and (after the failure of that work) had been prefixed to _Elizabetta regina d'Inghilterra_ which met with some success, thanks to the admirable singing of Mademoiselle Colbran, in the principal character.

* * * * *

Rossini took his failures very easily, and with the calm confidence of a man who knew he could do better things and that the public would appreciate them. When his _Sigismondo_ was violently hissed at Venice he sent a letter to his mother with a picture of a large _fiasco_, (bottle). His _Torvaldo e Dorliska_, which was brought out soon afterwards, was also hissed, but not so much.

[Sidenote: THE BARBER OF SEVILLE.]

This time Rossini sent his mother a picture of a _fiaschetto_ (little bottle).

* * * * *

The motive of the _allegro_ in the trio of the last act of (to return for a moment to) the _Barber of Seville_, is, as most of my readers are probably aware, simply an arrangement of the bass air sung by "Simon," in _Haydn's Seasons_. The comic air, sung by "Berta," the duenna, is a Russian dance tune, which was very fashionable in Rome, in 1816. Rossini is said to have introduced it into the _Barber of Seville_, out of compliment to some Russian lady.

* * * * *

Rossini's first opera _la Pietra del Paragone_, was written when he was seventeen years of age, for the Scala at Milan, where it was produced in the autumn of 1812. He introduced the best pieces out of this work into the _Cenerentola_, which was brought out five years afterwards at Rome. Besides _la Pietra del Paragone_, he laid _il Turco in Italia_, and _la Gazzetta_ under contribution to enrich the score of _Cinderella_. The air _Miei rampolli_, the duet _un Soave non so chè_, the drinking chorus and the burlesque proclamation of the baron belonged originally to _la Pietra del Paragone_; the _sestett_, the _stretta_ of the finale, the duet _zitto, zitto_, to the _Turco in Italia_, (produced at Milan in 1814), _Miei rampolli_ had also been inserted in _la Gazzetta_.

The principal female part in the _Cenerentola_, though written for a contralto, has generally, (like those of Rosina and Isabella, and also written for contraltos), been sung by sopranos, such as Madame Fodor, Madame Cinti, Madame Sontag, &c. When sung by Mademoiselle Alboni, these parts are executed in every respect in conformity with the composer's intentions.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: ROSSINI'S INNOVATIONS.]

Rossini's first serious opera, or at least the first of those by which his name became known throughout Europe, was _Tancredi_, written for Venice in 1813, the year after _la Pietra del Paragone_. In this opera, we find indicated, if not fully carried out, all those admirable changes in the composition of the lyric drama which were imputed to him by his adversaries as so many artistic crimes. Lord Mount Edgcumbe, in his objections to Rossini's music, strange and almost inexplicable as they appear, yet only says in somewhat different language what is advanced by Rossini's admirers, in proof of his great merit. The connoisseur of a past epoch describes the changes introduced by Rossini into dramatic music, for an enemy, fairly enough; only he regards as detestable innovations what others have accepted as admirable reforms. It appeared to Rossini that the number of airs written for the so-called lyric dramas of his youth, delayed the action to a most wearisome extent. In _Tancredi_, concerted pieces in which the dramatic action is kept up, are introduced in situations where formerly there would have been only monologues. In _Tancredi_ the bass has little to do, but more than in the operas of the old-school, where he was kept quite in the back ground, the _ultima parte_ being seldom heard except in _ensembles_. By degrees the bass was brought forward, until at last he became an indispensable and frequently the principal character in all tragic operas. In the old opera the number of characters was limited and choruses were seldom introduced. Think, then, how an amateur of the simple, quiet old school must have been shocked by a thoroughly Rossinian opera, such as _Semiramide_, with its brilliant, sonorous instrumentation, its prominent part for the bass or baritone, its long elaborate finale, and above all its military band on the stage! Mozart had already anticipated every resource that has since been adopted by Rossini, but to Rossini belongs, nevertheless, the merit of having brought the lyric drama to perfection on the Italian stage, and forty and even thirty years ago it was to Rossini that its supposed degradation was attributed.

"So great a change," says Lord Mount Edgcumbe, "has taken place in the character of the (operatic) dramas, in the style of the music and its performance, that I cannot help enlarging on that subject before I proceed further. One of the most material alterations is, that the grand distinction between serious and comic operas is nearly at an end, the separation of the singers for their performance, entirely so.[83] Not only do the same sing in both, but a new species of drama has arisen, a kind of mongrel between them called _semi seria_, which bears the same analogy to the other two that that nondescript melodrama does to the legitimate tragedy and comedy of the English stage."

And of which style specimens may be found in Shakespeare's plays and in Mozart's _Don Giovanni_! The union of the serious and the comic in the same lyric work was an innovation of Mozart's, like almost all the innovations attributed by Lord Mount Edgcumbe to Rossini. Indeed, nearly all the operatic reforms of the last three-quarters of a century that have endured, have had Mozart for their originator.

[Sidenote: ROSSINI'S INNOVATIONS.]

"The construction of these newly invented pieces," continues Lord Mount Edgcumbe, "is essentially different from the old. The dialogue which used to be carried on in recitative, and which in Metastasio's operas, is often so beautiful and interesting, is now cut up (and rendered unintelligible, if it were worth listening to), into _pezzi concertati_, or long singing conversations, which present a tedious succession of unconnected, ever-changing motivos, having nothing to do with each other: and if a satisfactory air is for a moment introduced, which the ear would like to dwell upon, to hear modulated, varied and again returned to, it is broken off before it is well understood, by a sudden transition into a totally different melody, time and key, and recurs no more; so that no impression can be made or recollection of it preserved. Single songs are almost exploded ... even the _prima donna_ who would formerly have complained at having less than three or four airs allotted to her, is now satisfied with one trifling _cavatina_ for a whole opera."

* * * * *

Lord Mount Edgcumbe has hitherto given a tolerably true account of the reforms introduced by Rossini into the operatic music of Italy; only, instead of calling Rossini's concerted pieces and finales, "a tedious succession of unconnected, ever-changing motivos," he ought to describe them as highly interesting, well connected and eminently dramatic. He goes on to condemn Rossini for his new distribution of characters, and especially for his employment of bass voices in chief parts "to the manifest injury of melody and total subversion of harmony, in which the lowest part is their peculiar province." Here, however, it occurs to Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and he thereupon expresses his surprise, "that the principal characters in two of Mozart's operas should have been written for basses."

* * * * *

When the above curious, and in its way valuable, strictures on Rossini's music were penned, not only _Tancredi_, but also _Il Barbiere_, _Otello_, _La Cenerentola_, _Mosè in Egitto_, _La Gazza Ladra_, and other of his works had been produced. _Il Barbiere_ succeeded at once in England, and Lord Mount Edgcumbe tells us that for many years after the first introduction of Rossini's works into England "so entirely did he engross the stage, that the operas of no other master were ever to be heard, with the exception of those of Mozart; and of his only _Don Giovanni_ and _le Nozze di Figaro_ were often repeated.... Every other composer, past and present, was totally put aside, and these two alone named or thought of." Rossini, then, if wrongly applauded, was at least applauded in good company. It appears from Mr. Ebers's "Seven years of the King's Theatre," that of all the operas produced from 1821 to 1828, nearly half were Rossini's, or in exact numbers fourteen out of thirty-four, but it must be remembered that the majority of these were constantly repeated, whereas most of the others were brought out only for a few nights and then laid aside. During the period in question the composer whose works, next to Rossini, were most often represented, was Mozart with _Don Giovanni_, _Le Nozze_, _La Clemenza di Tito_, and _Cosi fan Tutti_. The other operas included in the repertoire were by Paer, Mayer, Zingarelli, Spontini, (_la Vestale_), Mercadante, Meyerbeer, (_Il Crociato in Egitto_) &c.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: TANCREDI.]

Our consideration of the causes of Rossini's success, and want of success, has led us far away from the first representation of _Tancredi_ at the theatre of La Fenice. Its success was so great, that each of its melodies became for the Venetians a second "Carnival of Venice;" and even in the law courts, the judges are said to have been obliged to direct the ushers to stop the singing of _Di tanti palpiti_, and _Mi rivedrai te rivedrò_.

"I thought after hearing my opera, that the Venetians would think me mad," said Rossini. "Not at all; I found they were much madder than I was." _Tancredi_ was followed by _Aureliano_, produced at Milan in 1814, and, as has already been mentioned, without success. The introduction, however, containing the chorus from which Almaviva's _cavatina_ was adapted, is said to have been one of Rossini's finest pieces. _Otello_, the second of Rossini's important serious operas, was produced in 1816 at Naples (Del Fondo Theatre). The principal female part, as in the now-forgotten _Elizabetta_, and as in a great number of subsequent works, was written for Mademoiselle Colbran. The other parts were sustained by Benedetti, Nozzari, and the celebrated Davide.

* * * * *

In _Otello_, Rossini continued the reforms which he had commenced in _Tancredi_. He made each dramatic scene one continued piece of music, used recitative but sparingly, and when he employed it, accompanied it for the first time in Italy, with the full band. The piano was now banished from the orchestra, forty-two years after it had been banished by Gluck from the orchestras of France.

Davide, in the part of Otello," created the greatest enthusiasm. The following account of his performance is given by a French critic, M. Edouard Bertin, in a letter from Venice, dated 1823:--

[Sidenote: OTELLO.]

"Davide 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 compass (three octaves comprised between four B flats). He crushes the principal motive of an air beneath the luxuriance of his ornamentation, and which has no other merit than that of difficulty conquered. But he is also a singer full 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 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, and who scarcely understand us, when we tell them that a waltz or quadrille movement is out of place in the mouth of a Cæsar, an Assur, 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 substitute 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, sheathes 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 seem 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 _dénouement_, 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."

Lord Byron saw _Otello_ at Venice, soon after its first production. He speaks of it in one of his letters, dated 1818, in which he condemns the libretto, but expresses his admiration of the music.

_La Gazza Ladra_ was written for Milan, and brought out at the theatre of "La Scala," in 1817. Four years afterwards it was produced in London in the spring, and Paris in the autumn. The part of "Ninetta," afterwards so favourite a character with Sontag, Malibran, and Grisi, was sung in 1821 by Madame Camporese in London, by Madame Fodor in Paris. Camporese's performance was of the greatest merit, and highly successful. Fodor's is said to have been perfection. The part of "Pippo," originally written for a contralto, used at one time to be sung at the English and French theatres by a baritone or bass. It was not until some years after _La Gazza Ladra_ was produced, that a contralto (except for first parts), was considered an indispensable member of an opera company.

Madame Fodor was not an Italian, but a Russian. She was married to a Frenchman, M. Mainvielle, and, before visiting Italy, and, until her _début_, had studied chiefly in Paris. Her Italian tour is said to have greatly improved her style, which, when she first appeared in London, in 1816, left much to be desired. Camporese was of good birth, and was married to a member of the Guistiniani family. She cultivated singing in the first instance only as an accomplishment; but was obliged by circumstances to make it her profession. In Italy she sang only at concerts, and it was not until her arrival in England that she appeared on the stage. She seems to have possessed very varied powers; appearing at one time as "Zerlina" to Ronzi's "Donna Anna;" at another, as "Donna Anna," to Fodor's "Zerlina."

[Sidenote: LA GAZZA LADRA.]

_La Gazza Ladra_ is known to be founded on a French melo-drama, _La Pie Voleuse_, of which the capabilities for operatic "setting," were first discovered by Paer. Paer had seen Mademoiselle Jenny Vertpré in _La Pie Voleuse_. He bought the play, and sent it to his librettist in ordinary at Milan, with marginal notes, showing how it ought to be divided for musical purposes. The opera book intended by Paer for himself was offered to Rossini, and by him was made the groundwork of one of his most brilliant productions.

_La Gazza Ladra_ marks another step in Rossini's progress as a composer, and accordingly we find Lord Mount Edgcumbe saying, soon after its production in England:--"Of all the operas of Rossini that have been performed here, that of _la Gazza Ladra_ is most peculiarly liable to all the objections I have made to the new style of drama, of which it is the most striking example." The only opera of Rossini's which Lord Mount Edgcumbe seems really to have liked was _Aureliano in Palmira_, written in the composer's earliest style, and which failed.

"Its finales," (Lord Mount Edgcumbe is speaking of _La Gazza Ladra_) "and many of its very numerous _pezzi concertati_, are uncommonly loud, and the lavish use made of the noisy instruments, appears, to my judgment, singularly inappropriate to the subject; which, though it might have been rendered touching, is far from calling for such warlike accompaniments. Nothing can be more absurd than the manner in which this simple story is represented in the Italian piece, or than to be a young peasant servant girl, led to trial and execution, under a guard of soldiers, with military music." The quintett of _La Gazza Ladra_, is, indeed, open to a few objections from a dramatic point of view. "Ninetta" is afraid of compromising her father; but "Fernando" has already given himself up to the authorities, in order to save his daughter--in whose defence he does not say a word. An explanation seems necessary, but then the drama would be at an end. There would be no quintett, and we should lose one of Rossini's finest pieces. Would it be worth while to destroy this quintett, in order to make the opera end like the French melo-drama, and as the French operatic version of _La Gazza Ladra_ also terminates?

I have already spoken of _La Cenerentola_, produced in 1817 at Rome. This admirable work has of late years been much neglected. The last time it was heard in England at Her Majesty's Theatre, Madame Alboni played the principal part, and excited the greatest enthusiasm by her execution of the final air, _Non piu mesta_ (the model of so many solos for the _prima donna_, introduced with or without reason, at the end of subsequent operas); but the cast was a very imperfect one, and the performance on the whole (as usual, of late years, at this theatre) very unsatisfactory.

[Sidenote: MOSE IN EGITTO.]

_Mosè in Egitto_ was produced at the San Carlo[84] Theatre, at Naples, in 1818; the principal female part being written again for Mademoiselle Colbran. In this work, two leading parts, those of "Faraoni" and "Mosè," were assigned to basses. The once proscribed, or, at least contemned basso, was, for the first time brought forward, and honoured with full recognition in an Italian _opera seria_. The story of the Red Sea, and of the chorus sung on its banks, has often been told; but I will repeat it in a few words, for the benefit of those readers who may not have met with it before. The Passage of the Red Sea was intended to be particularly grand; but, instead of producing the effect anticipated, it was received every night with laughter. The two first acts were always applauded; but the Red Sea was a decided obstacle to the success of the third. Tottola, the librettist, came to Rossini one morning, with a prayer for the Israelites, which he fancied, if the composer would set it to music, might save the conclusion of the opera. Rossini, who was in bed at the time, saw at once the importance of the suggestion, wrote on the spur of the moment, and in a few minutes, the magnificent _Del tuo stellato soglio_. It was performed the same evening, and excited transports of admiration. The scene of the Red Sea, instead of being looked forward to as a source of hilarity, became now the chief "attraction" of the opera. The performance of the prayer produced a sort of frenzy among the audience, and a certain Neapolitan doctor, whose name has not transpired, told either Stendhal or the Abbé Carpani (on whose _Letters_, as before mentioned, Beyle's "Vie de Rossini par Stendhal" is founded), that the number of nervous indispositions among the ladies of Naples was increased in a remarkable manner by the change of key, from the minor to the major, in the last verse.

_Mosè_ was brought out in London, as an oratorio, in the beginning of 1822. Probably, dramatic action was absolutely necessary for its success; at all events, it failed as an oratorio. The same year it was produced as an opera at the King's Theatre; but with a complete transformation in the libretto, and under the title of _Pietro l'Eremita_. The opera attracted throughout the season, and no work of Rossini's was ever more successful on its first production in this country. The subscribers to the King's Theatre were in ecstacies with it, and one of the most distinguished supporters of the theatre, after assuring the manager that he deserved well of this country, offered to testify his gratitude by proposing him at White's!

[Sidenote: MOSE IN EGITTO.]

In the autumn of the same year _Mosè_ was produced at the Italian Opera of Paris, and in 1827, a French version of it was brought out at the Académie. The Red Sea appears to have been a source of trouble everywhere. At the Académie, forty-five thousand francs were sunk in it, and to so little effect, or rather with such bad effect, that the machinists' and decorators' waves had to be suppressed after the first evening. In London the Red Sea became merely a river. The river, however, failed quite as egregiously as the larger body of water, and had to be drained off before the second performance took place.

_Mosè_ is quite long enough and sufficiently complete in its original form. Several pieces, however, out of other operas, by Rossini, were added to it in the London version of the work. In Paris, in accordance with the absurd custom (if it be not even a law) at the Académie, _Mosè_ could not be represented without the introduction of a ballet. The necessary dance music was taken from _Ciro in Babilonia_ and _Armida_, and the opera was further strengthened as it was thought (weakened as it turned out), by the introduction of a new air for Mademoiselle Cinti, and several new choruses.

The _Mosè_ of the Académie, with its four acts of music (one more than the original opera) was found far too long. It was admired, and for a little while applauded; but when it had once wearied the public, it was in vain that the directors reduced its dimensions. It became smaller and smaller, until it at last disappeared.

_Zelmira_, written originally for Vienna, and which is said to have contained Madame Colbran Rossini's best part, was produced at Naples in 1822. The composer and his favourite _prima donna_ were married in the spring of the same year at Castelnaso, near Bologna.

"The recitatives of _Zelmira_" says Carpani, in his _Le Rossinane ossia lettere musico-teatrali_, "are the best and most dramatic that the Italian school has produced; their eloquence is equal to that of the most beautiful airs, and the spectator, equally charmed and surprised, listens to them from one end to the other. These recitatives are sustained by the orchestra; _Otello_, _Mosè in Egitto_, are written after the same system, but I will not attribute to Rossini the honour of a discovery which belongs to our neighbours. Although the French Opera is still barbarous from a vocal point of view, there are some points about it which may be advantageously borrowed. The introduction of accompanied recitative is of the greatest importance for our _opera seria_, which, in the hands of the Mayers, Paers, the Rossinis, has at last become dramatic."

_Zelmira_ was brought out in London in 1824, under the direction of Rossini himself, and with Madame Colbran Rossini in the principal part. The reception of the composer, when he made his appearance in the orchestra, was most enthusiastic, and at the end of the opera, he was called on to the stage, which, in England, was, then, quite a novel compliment.

[Sidenote: ROSSINI AND GEORGE IV.]

At the same time, all possible attention was paid to Rossini, in private, by the most distinguished persons in the country. He was invited by George IV. to the Pavilion at Brighton, and the King gave orders that when his guest entered the music room, his private band should play the overture to the _Barber of Seville_. The overture being concluded, his Majesty asked Rossini what piece he would like to hear next. The composer named _God save the King_.

The music of _Zelmira_ was greatly admired by connoisseurs, but made no impression on the public, and though Madame Colbran-Rossini's performance is said to have been admirable, it must be remembered that she had already passed the zenith of her powers. Born in Madrid, in 1785, she appears to have retired from the stage, as far as Italy was concerned, in 1823, after the production of _Semiramide_. At least, I find no account of her having sung anywhere after the season of 1824, in London, though her name appears in the list of the celebrated company assembled the same year by Barbaja, at Vienna. Mademoiselle Colbran figures among the sopranos with Mesdames Mainvielle-Fodor, Féron, Esther Mombelli,[85] Dardanelli, Sontag, Unger, Giuditta, Grisi, and Grimbaun. The contraltos of this unrivalled _troupe_ were Mesdames Cesare-Cantarelli and Eckerlin; the tenors, Davide, Nozzari, Donzelli, Rubini, and Cicimarra; the basses, Lablache, Bassi, Ambroggi, Tamburini, and Bolticelli. Rossini had undertaken to write an opera entitled _Ugo rè d'Italia_, for the King's Theatre. The engagement had been made at the beginning of the season, in January, and the work was repeatedly announced for performance, when, at the end of May, it was said to be only half finished. He had, at this time, quarrelled with the management, and accepted the post of director at the Italian Opera of Paris. The end of _Ugo rè d'Italia_ is said by Mr. Ebers to have been, that the score, as far as it was written, was deposited with Messrs. Ransom, the bankers. Messrs. Ransom, however, have informed me, that they never had a score of Rossini's in their possession.

* * * * *

After Rossini's departure from London, his _Semiramide_, produced at Venice only the year before, was brought out with Madame Pasta, in the principal character. The part of "Semiramide" had been played at the _Fenice_ Theatre, by Madame Colbran; it was the last Rossini wrote for his wife, and _Semiramide_ was the last opera he composed for Italy. When we meet with Rossini again, it will be at the Académie Royale of Paris, as the composer of _the Siege of Corinth_, _Count Ory_, and _William Tell_.

[Sidenote: ROSSINI'S SINGERS.]

The first great representative of "Semiramide" was Pasta, who has probably never been surpassed in that character. After performing it with admirable success in London, she resumed in it the year afterwards, 1825, at the Italian Opera of Paris. Madame Pasta had already gained great celebrity by her representation of "Tancredi" and of "Romeo," but in _Semiramide_, she seems, for the first time, to have exhibited her genius in all its fulness.[86]

The original "Arsace" was Madame Mariani, the first great "Arsace," Madame Pisaroni.

Since the first production of _Semiramide_, thirty years ago, all the most distinguished sopranos and contraltos of the day have loved to appear in that admirable work.

Among the "Semiramides," I may mention in particular Pasta, Grisi, Viardot-Garcia, and Cruvelli. Although not usually given to singers who particularly excel in the execution of light delicate music, the part of "Semiramide" was also sung with success by Madame Sontag (Paris, 1829), and Madame Bosio (St. Petersburgh, 1855).

Among the "Arsaces," may be cited Pisaroni, Brambilla, and Alboni.

Malibran, with her versatile comprehensive genius, appeared both as "Arsace" and as "Semiramide," and was equally fortunate in each of these very different impersonations.

I will now say a few words respecting those of the singers just named, whose names are more especially associated with Rossini's earliest successes in England.

Madame Pasta having appeared in Paris with success in 1816, was engaged with her husband, Signor Pasta (an unsuccessful tenor), for the following season at the King's Theatre. She made no great impression that year, and was quite eclipsed by Fodor and Camporese, who were members of the same company. The young singer, not discouraged, but convinced that she had much to learn, returned to Italy, where she studied unremittingly for four years. She reappeared at the Italian Opera of Paris in 1821, as "Desdemona," in Rossini's _Otello_, then for the first time produced in France. Her success was complete, but her performance does not appear to have excited that enthusiasm which was afterwards caused by her representation of "Medea," in Mayer's opera of that name. In _Medea_, however, Pasta was everything; in _Otello_, she had to share her triumph with Garcia, Bordogni, and Levasseur. From this time, the new tragic vocalist gained constantly in public estimation. _Medea_ was laid aside; but Pasta gained fresh applause in every new part she undertook, and especially in _Tancredi_ and _Semiramide_.

[Sidenote: PASTA.]

Pasta made her second appearance at the King's Theatre in 1824, in the character of "Desdemona." Her performance, from a histrionic as well as from a vocal point of view, was most admirable; and the habitués could scarcely persuade themselves that this was the singer who had come before them four years previously, and had gone away without leaving a regret behind. When Rossini's last Italian opera was produced, the same season, the character of "Semiramide" was assigned to Madame Pasta, who now sang it for the first time. She had already represented the part of "Tancredi," and her three great Rossinian impersonations raised her reputation to the highest point. In London, Madame Pasta did not appear as "Medea" until 1826, when she already enjoyed the greatest celebrity. It was found at the King's Theatre, as at the Italian Opera of Paris, that Mayer's simple and frequently insipid music was not tolerable, after the brilliant dramatic compositions of Rossini; but Pasta's delineation of "Medea's" thirst for vengeance and despair, is said to have been sublime.

A story is told of a distinguished critic persuading himself, that with such a power of pourtraying "Medea's" emotions, Madame Pasta must possess "Medea's" features; but for some such natural conformity he seems to have thought it impossible that she could at once, by intuition, enter profoundly and sympathetically into all "Medea's" inmost feelings. Much might be said in favour of the critic's theory; it is unnecessary to say a word in favour of a performance by which such a theory could be suggested. We are told, that the believer in the personal resemblance between Pasta and "Medea" was sent a journey of seventy miles to see a visionary portrait of "Medea," recovered from the ruins of Herculaneum. To rush off on such a journey with such an object, may not have been very reasonable; to cause the journey to be undertaken, was perfectly silly. Probably, it was a joke of our friend Taylor's.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: PISARONI.]

Madame Pisaroni made her début in Italy in the year 1811, when she was eighteen years of age. She at first came out as a soprano, but two years afterwards, a severe illness having changed the nature of her voice, she appeared in all the most celebrated parts, written for the musicos or sopranists, who were now beginning to die out, and to be replaced by ladies with contralto voices. Madame Pisaroni was not only not beautiful, she was hideously ugly; I have seen her portrait, and am not exaggerating. Lord Mount Edgcumbe tells us, that another favourite contralto of the day Mariani (Rossini's original Arsace) was Pisaroni's rival "in voice, singing, and ugliness;" adding, that "in the two first qualities, she was certainly her inferior; though in the last it was difficult to know to which the preference should be given." But the anti-pathetic, revolting, almost insulting features of the great contralto, were forgotten as soon as she began to sing. As the hideous Wilkes boasted that he was "only a quarter of an hour behind the handsomest man in Europe," so Madame Pisaroni might have said, that she had only to deliver one phrase of music to place herself on a level with the most personally prepossessing vocalist of the day. This extraordinary singer on gaining a contralto, did not lose her original soprano voice. After her illness, she is said to have possessed three octaves (between four C's), but her best notes were now in the contralto register. In airs, in concerted pieces, in recitative, she was equally admirable. To sustain a high note, and then dazzle the audience with a rapid descending scale of two octaves, was for her an easy means of triumph. Altogether, her execution seems never to have been surpassed. After making her début in Paris as "Arsace," Madame Pisaroni resumed that part in 1829, under great difficulties. The frightfully ugly "Arsace" had to appear side by side with a charmingly pretty "Semiramide,"--the soprano part of the opera being taken by Mademoiselle Sontag. But in the hour of danger the poor contralto was saved by her thoroughly beautiful singing, and Pisaroni and Sontag, who as a vocalist also left nothing to desire, were equally applauded. In London, Pisaroni appears to have confined herself intentionally to the representation of male characters, appearing as "Arsace," "Malcolm," in _La Donna del Lago_, and "Tancredi;" but in Paris she played the principal female part in _L'Italiana in Algeri_, and what is more, played it with wonderful success.

* * * * *

The great part of "Arsace" was also that in which Mademoiselle Brambilla made her début in England in the year 1827. Brambilla, who was a pupil of the conservatory of Milan, had never appeared on any stage; but though her acting is said to have been indifferent, her lovely voice, her already excellent style, her youth and her great beauty, ensured her success.

"She has the finest eyes, the sweetest voice, and the best disposition in the world," said a certain cardinal of the youthful Brambilla, "if she is discovered to possess any other merits, the safety of the Catholic Church will require her excommunication." After singing in London several years, and revisiting Italy, Brambilla was engaged in Paris, where she again chose the part of "Arsace," for her début.

Many of our readers will probably remember that "Arsace" was also the character in which Mademoiselle Alboni made her first appearance in England, and on this side of the Alps. Until the opening night of the Royal Italian Opera, 1847, the English public had never heard of Mademoiselle Alboni; but she had only to sing the first phrase of her part, to call forth unanimous applause, and before the evening was at an end, she had quite established herself in the position which she has ever since held.

[Sidenote: SONTAG.]

Sontag and Malibran both made their first appearance in England as "Rosina," in the _Barber of Seville_. Several points of similarity might be pointed out between the romantic careers of these two wonderfully successful and wonderfully unfortunate vocalists. Mademoiselle Garcia first appeared on the stage at Naples, when she was eight years old. Mademoiselle Sontag was in her sixth year when she came out at Frankfort. Each spent her childhood and youth in singing and acting, and each, after obtaining a full measure of success, made an apparently brilliant marriage, and was thought to have quitted the stage. Both, however, re-appeared, one after a very short interval, the other, after a retirement of something like twenty years. The position of Mademoiselle Garcia's husband, M. Malibran, was as nothing, compared to that of Count Rossi, who married Mademoiselle Sontag; the former was a French merchant, established (not very firmly, as it afterwards appeared) at New York; the latter was the Sardinian Ambassador at the court of Vienna; but on the other hand, the Countess Rossi's end was far more tragic, or rather more miserable and horrible than that of Madame Malibran, itself sufficiently painful and heart-rending.

Though Rosina appears to have been one of Mademoiselle Sontag's best, if not absolutely her best part, she also appeared to great advantage during her brief career in London and Paris, in two other Rossinian characters, "Desdemona" and "Semiramide." In her own country she was known as one of the most admirable representatives of "Agatha," in _Der Freischütz_, and she sang "Agatha's" great _scena_ frequently, and always with immense success, at concerts, in London. She also appeared as "Donna Anna," in _Don Giovanni_, (from the pleasing, graceful character of her talent, one would have fancied the part of "Zerlina" better suited to her), but in Italian opera all her triumphs were gained in the works of Rossini.

[Sidenote: MALIBRAN.]

When Marietta Garcia made her début in London, in the _Barber of Seville_, she was, seriously, only just beginning her career, and was at that time but seventeen years of age. She appeared the same year in Paris, as the heroine in _Torvaldo e Dorliska_ (Rossini's "_fiaschetto_," now quite forgotten) and was then taken by her father on that disastrous American tour which ended with her marriage. Having crossed the Atlantic, Garcia converted his family into a complete opera company, of which he himself was the tenor and the excellent musical director (if there had only been a little more to direct). The daughter was the _prima donna_, the mother had to content herself with secondary parts, the son officiated as baritone and bass. In America, under a good master, but with strange subordinates, and a wretched _entourage_, Mademoiselle Garcia accustomed herself to represent operatic characters of every kind. One evening, when an uncultivated American orchestra was massacring Mozart's master-piece, Garcia, the "Don Giovanni" of the evening, became so indignant that he rushed, sword in hand, to the foot lights, and compelled the musicians to re-commence the finale to the first act, which they executed the second time with care, if not with skill. This was a severe school in which poor Marietta was being formed; but without it we should probably never have heard of her appearing one night as "Desdemona" or as "Arsace," the next as "Otello," or as "Semiramide;" nor of her gaining fresh laurels with equal certainty in the _Sonnambula_

and in _Norma_. But we have at present only to do with that period of operatic history, during which, Rossini's supremacy on the Italian stage was unquestioned. Towards 1830, we find two new composers appearing, who, if they, to some extent, displaced their great predecessor, at the same time followed in his steps. For some dozen years, Rossini had been the sole support, indeed, the very life of Italian opera. Naturally, his works were not without their fruit, and a great part of Donizetti's and Bellini's music may be said to belong to Rossini, inasmuch as Rossini was clearly Donizetti's and Bellini's progenitor.