Chapter III: Part THE FIRST: Essays, Criticisms, and Miscellanies (3)

The first winter concert, given by Mad. Milder, took place on the 25th, on which occasion were performed several pieces of Neukomm’s, which, though compositions of great merit, were not very remarkable in point of invention. M. Felix Mendelssohn played Mozart’s Concerto in ~D~ minor. This young artist, it is stated, is about to get up three charitable concerts during the winter, in which he will bring forward some pieces of his own, not yet performed here, besides other compositions of sterling worth, among them a symphony in D major, by Ludwig Berger. In short it is intended that these concerts shall be equally interesting and attractive to the cultivated musician and to the amateur.

The Singing Academy proposes to give four Oratorios, _Salomon_, and _Joshua_ of Handel, _St. John the Evangelist_, by Seb. Bach, and the fourth will probably be one of Haydn’s, but which it is not yet determined.

The four brothers Müller, the quartet-players, are expected to return in a short time from Brunswick.

The musical soirées of M. M. D. Möser commenced on the 31st October, when Mozart’s and Beethoven’s Symphonies in C major and the overture to _Euryanthe_ were played.

LEIPZIG.

At the winter concerts, which commenced at Michaelmas, have already been played Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, Kalliwoda’s Symphony, No 3, Onslow’s first Symphony, and a second of Beethoven’s, and the overtures to _Ulysses and Circe_ by B. Romberg, and _Euryanthe_. Also a new overture by M. J. B. Gross, a young virtuoso on the violoncello, which, though its difficult rhythmical proportions and harmonic progressions are little in accordance with the present fashion, had the good fortune to be well received. Madlle. Henriette Graban is again the principal singer, and Madlle. Livia Gerhardt is engaged as second singer: she has a very sweet voice, particularly in the upper notes, great purity of intonation and considerable flexibility. M. Otto, the tenor, and M. Pögner, the bass, formerly of the _Königliche Theater_, have also sung at these concerts; and choruses have been given from _Euryanthe_, _I Capuletti e Montechi_, and _Zemire und Azor_. The solo players have been Madlle. Clara Wieck, and M. D. Schlesinger on the piano-forte; on the violin, M. Ullrich and M. Kalliwoda, kapellmeister in Donaueschingen, who played his last violin concertino to the delight of all present; and on the violoncello, M. Gross, who has great powers of execution, and his tone is remarkably sweet.

On the 15th October, a concert was given by M. Kalliwoda, and the selection consisted chiefly of new compositions of that highly gifted master; two new overtures, powerfully instrumentalized, remarkable for their light flowing melodies, a rondo, a pot-pourri, and a concertante for two violins, were among the number; the second violin, in the latter, was played by M. Eichler. The principal singers were Madlle. Livia Gerhardt and MM. Eichberger and Hauser. M. K. is about to leave Leipzig, on a tour to Magdeburg, Berlin, Hamburg, Hanover, Bremen, &c.

The next concert was that which M. Moscheles gave on the 22nd October, at which he performed his new concerto in ~C~ major, and his _Recollections of Denmark_, Op. 83. Mad. Beranek sang the scena _Ocean du Ungeheur_ (Ocean, thou mighty monster), from _Oberon_, with energy and much feeling.

A. M. Ferd. Vogel, from Berlin, has given two organ concerts at the church of St. Paul. Fugues by Seb. Bach and others, choruses of men, symphonies with trumpet accompaniment, sonatas (Mozart’s) arranged for the organ, elegiac romances, and other pieces chiefly compositions of the young organist himself, rendered the whole, by their judicious selection and order of succession, very attractive.

M. Stegmeier, late of the _Königstadt Theater_ at Berlin, is appointed music director at the theatre here.

KÖNIGSBERG.

M. Friedrich Wilhelm Eichler, the excellent violinist of Leipzig, a young man twenty-five years of age, zealous in his profession and of great promise, is engaged as leader here, and is shortly expected; he is a pupil of Spohr’s.

WARSAW.

A Polish journal (Dziennik powszechny), speaks in the highest terms of the violin-playing of a Mad. Filipowicz, a pupil of Spohr. Her _cantilena_ is superb, and she overcomes the must formidable difficulties with apparent ease; her performance of Rode’s Variations in ~E~, produced the greatest effect. She has given three concerts in Warsaw, and has on every occasion inspired her audience with enthusiasm.

BRESLAU.

At the church of St. Bernhardin a sacred concert was given on the 19th October, for the benefit of the poor, at which, besides several pieces for the organ, in which MM. Köhler and Hesse particularly distinguished themselves, was performed the first part of the oratorio _Tobias_, composed by the latter.

On the 25th, a grand concert was given by Madlle. Elise Barth, and M. Fried. W. Pixis, who richly merited the applause which was lavished upon them.

The winter concerts have already commenced.

LEGHORN.

Ferdinand Ries is at present here. At Milan, in fact at all places in his way where the celebrated composer visited his brother artists, he met with the warmest welcome, and the most cordial treatment.

PARIS.

_Théatre Royal Italien._ Bellini’s opera, _La Straniera_, (_the Stranger_) was produced here, lately, with success. In this Madlle. Judith Grisi made her début, in the character of _Alaide_. She much resembles her sister, Madlle. Giulietta Grisi, and the voices have a family likeness; that of the débutante extends to two octaves, from _si_ to _si_ (_i.e._ from ~B~ below the lines to ~B~ above), is of a brilliant quality, though not flexible, but there is much energy in her style; she distinctly marks whatever she performs, and sustained her part with talent, both as singer and actress. She was supported by Rubini and Tamburini. The former was allowed to introduce a song, by Pacini, of very inferior merit, a practice which, whatever may be the value of the composition, ought to be discouraged, if not by directors--who too frequently are themselves directed--the public should take the matter into their own hands, and prevent such absurd and injurious intrusions.

THE DRAMA.

~Drury-Lane Theatre.~

Whatever former general elections may have done, the present certainly has not operated favourably for the two winter theatres. The labours of canvassing, and the meetings of committees, sub-committees, branch committees, &c. in each parish, have engaged a great number of heads of families, while the anxiety which has pervaded all ranks, has been excitement enough for numberless persons who would otherwise have sought it in the theatre.

The musical novelties at both houses have been singularly unsuccessful this season, so far as it has gone. The public are becoming better and better acquainted with the art; are fast growing into critics, therefore more nice than formerly. Besides which, much talent for musical composition has not lately been shown at our theatres, for the encouragement is insufficient to produce effectual competition. Several who can write have not inducement enough to exert their abilities, knowing how much time they must bestow, how many vexations they will have to encounter, how precarious is success, and the certainty, even if successful, of being very inadequately rewarded for their efforts and labours.

Old pieces revived have proved the most fortunate; among which _Masaniello_ has drawn many to this theatre, to see Mr. ~Braham~ in the character of the ambitious Fisherman, which he performed admirably.

On Tuesday, the 18th ult., Mrs. ~Centlivre’s~ _Bold Stroke for a Wife_, with the newly-given title of _Win her and Wear her_, and converted into a musical piece, was performed for the first time, ~Braham~ undertaking the part of _Colonel Feignwell_. There is so much absurdity in the plot of this, and the language betrays so many symptoms of poverty, that had it not been for the variety in every act, and the constant bustle kept up, it would, long ago, have been banished the stage. The coarseness of the allusions, as they appeared in the original drama, at one time recommended it, but it has been much chastened since, and now has little in it to offend the most fastidious ears. We really thought that the proposed alterations in this, by Mr. ~Beaseley~, and the addition of music, promised well, but the attempt has not succeeded; and after having been performed twice, was not announced for a third representation; at least up to the writing of these remarks.

In the most arduous part of this play--indeed the only part requiring much talent or exertion--~Braham~ succeeded beyond expectation. Such an effort in acting he had never made before, and most are agreed that his Dutchman was excellent; his Quaker very characteristic, and entertaining to those who have no objection to see this sect ridiculed; and his old steward a really fine piece of acting.

Of the music, by Mr. ~Barnett~, there is some that all will agree in commending. As a whole it wants the charm of novelty: we cannot mention any one piece that bears the true stamp of originality; though we do not mean to say that the composer has, either by design or accident, availed himself of the thoughts of others. There may be a general resemblance to many things, without a plagiarism from any one. Certain phrases and cadences are common property, and he who uses them is not chargeable with the act of borrowing, though he may be denied the merit of invention. However, most of the compositions will, in all likelihood, come before us in another department, when we shall have a fairer and better opportunity of analysing and judging them.

_Don Giovanni_ is getting up here, cast in a manner that has never been equalled on the English stage.

* * * * *

~Covent-Garden Theatre.~

On the first of last month, a débutant, Mr. ~Lennox~, appeared as _Artabanes_. This gentleman is the same, we believe, who has sung in some few London concerts, during the last two or three seasons, and was a pupil of Sig. De Begnis. He enjoys the advantage of a powerful base voice of considerable compass, and sings in time and tune; but either as singer or actor we cannot venture to say more, judging him from this, his first appearance on the stage, when it is possible that the newness of the situation operated as some check on his powers. Miss ~Shirreff~, in _Mandane_, displayed unequivocal signs of general improvement; and Miss ~H. Cawse’s~ _Artaxerxes_ was, as it always is, without affectation, correct and pleasing.

The ballet of _Masaniello_ has been produced here, with French dancers, and drew some better houses than have been seen lately.

THE MUSIC OF THE PRESENT NUMBER.

The Overture to _Tigrane_, a serious opera performed at Berlin in 1799, is, we feel assured, totally unknown in this country. If its orchestral effect is at all equal to what the piano-forte arrangement leads us to expect, it cannot much longer remain a stranger to our concerts and theatres. Clearness and unity of design, and sweetness of melody, are its chief attributes; whether skilful contrivance of the parts and grandeur of effect are to be added to these, we cannot say, not having seen the score, or heard the composition performed by a band. Concerning the author we refer to the memoir in the present Number.

* * * * *

The Terzetto, by Sarti, is, in the original, set to the second verse of the 51st Psalm, ‘Amplius lava me,’--and to these Latin words is published by the Rev. C. J. Latrobe, in his excellent but voluminous and expensive collection of sacred music by foreign composers. Our arrangement is made from the score printed in Shield’s Harmony, a work become very scarce, where it appears to the verses now given; but this is the first time it has been published conjointly with English words and a piano-forte arrangement. The many beauties in this composition do not require to be pointed out.

* * * * *

The _Arietta_ (as the author himself denominates it) by Beethoven is one of the very finest of his vocal productions. In the expression of deep passion it has never been excelled; and now rarely equalled! But it must be sung with the feeling that inspired the composer when he wrote it: coldness or tameness would prove fatal to so highly finished a piece of musical colouring.

This extraordinary composition is yet very little known in this country, and--still stranger to say--not much anywhere.

* * * * *

Palestrina’s name is known to all; his works to very few. Greatly and deservedly as they were esteemed in his day, and for ages after, most of them now seem dry, and, no doubt, are occasionally crude and uninteresting. The present specimen, however, we trust, will not be liable to either charge, except, perhaps, in the case of one or two notes, which, though somewhat harsh, we have not ventured to alter. The present terzetto--the air and harmony of which more resemble the music of recent date than any we ever met with of the same composer--is from a mass printed in two staves in an old German work in our possession. We have expanded it into what is called a vocal score.

* * * * *

Handel’s _Suites de Pièces_ are in few hands. The Chaconne[7], now given--the elegant melody of which, if only heard, can never want admirers--is followed by no less than sixty-two variations in the original work! We have selected a few of those we considered the best, and put the mark _8va alta_ over two, conceiving that the author might thus have written them, had the instruments in his day furnished the notes.

* * * * *

The Romance and Duet from _Fortunatus_ require no further remark than what appears in our account of that new German Opera. Not having had time to obtain a _good_ and _adaptable_ translation of the original words, we have set others to them, which certainly suit the music.

[Sidenote: ~February, 1833.~]

MEMOIRS OF GARCIA AND RUBINI.

~Manuel del Populo Vincente Garcia~ was born at Seville the 21st of January, 1775. At six years old he was received into the choir of the cathedral, and commenced his musical studies under the instruction of Don Antonio Ripa and Juan Almarcha. At this time there was no theatre in Seville, and sacred music was in high estimation; the vocal corps belonging to the cathedral was not only strong in number, but contained, also, some distinguished performers, particularly a tenor and a male soprano. Garcia, having a very agreeable voice and extraordinary talents for music, was soon distinguished amongst his compeers, and by the time he was seventeen, his fame not only as a singer, but also as a composer and _chef d’orchestre_, had spread far beyond the limits of his native city. The manager of the Cadiz Theatre engaged him, and brought him forward in a _toccadilla_, in which the young debutant sang several pieces of his own composition. Here he obtained considerable reputation as a singer. His voice--a fine tenor--very flexible, and very extensive, particularly in the upper part, was much admired; but his action was so embarrassed and cold, that the most discerning spectator could never have detected in the awkward youth before him even the germ of that dramatic talent which afterwards classed him so high among acting singers. From Cadiz, Garcia proceeded to Madrid, where, arriving during Lent, he appeared in an oratorio, the only species of music allowed to be performed during that season in Spain. His residence in Madrid was of considerable duration; and he there composed several _toccadillas_.

When Garcia at length quitted Madrid, he proceeded to Malaga, in which city he composed his first opera, entitled _El Preso_, the libretto of which was borrowed from a French piece called ‘The Prisoner, or the Likeness.’ While he was at Malaga an epidemic fever raged there with such virulence as nearly to depopulate whole districts, but Garcia was fortunate enough to escape its ravages and get back safe to Madrid. On his return to the capital, he brought into fashion a species of operettas, in one or two acts, similar to those which were then in vogue in France; the plots, indeed, were chiefly taken from French pieces. These operas made the round of the Spanish theatres, and were almost all received with great applause. Garcia is one of the few Spanish composers who have written in the style of the national music of the country, which, as is well known, possesses a character entirely distinct from that of either Italy, Germany, or France. Several of his airs became highly popular; one in particular called _Lo Cavallo_, sung by him in the character of a smuggler, is as well known throughout Spain as _Charmante Gabrielle_ in France, or _God save the King_ in England. Some persons have denied Garcia’s claim to be considered as the composer of this most original melody; it is true the names of those who write popular airs are quickly forgotten, but in this case the fact is of easy proof, for there are many amateurs still living in Madrid who well remember the effect made by the air _Yo che soy contrabandista_, when Garcia sang it for the first time not thirty years ago.

On the 11th February, 1808, Garcia made his appearance in Paris, selecting for his début the _Griselda_ of Paer, being the first time he had ever performed in an Italian opera. A journalist, whose criticisms carried much weight with them at that time, says of him--‘Don Garcia is a young artist of distinguished talent; his countenance is agreeable and expressive--his delivery correct--his action natural and animated; his voice is sweet-toned, graceful, of very extensive compass and extreme flexibility. It is evident that he is a man of great ability and experience in his art; his singing is rich in ornament, but frequently too much embroidered.’ In point of fact, however, Garcia owed all his talents as a singer to himself alone: he had never really studied it as an art, but had merely listened, imitated, and practised. On the 15th March, 1809, he gave for his benefit a Spanish monologue operetta, called _El Poeta Calculista_, (the first and only Spanish opera that has ever been performed in Paris,) with such decided success, that it was repeated several times running, until the excessive fatigue of supporting alone a piece in which four compositions out of the seven it comprised, were constantly encored, obliged him to suspend the representations.

Garcia continued in Paris till the commencement of 1811, when he went to Italy, and appeared successively on the theatres of Turin, Naples, and Rome. He was elected an academician of the Philharmonic Society at Bologna, and appointed by Murat principal tenor of his chamber and chapel. It was at this period that he became acquainted with Anzani, one of the most celebrated tenors in Italy, from whose instructions and example he acquired those secrets in the art of singing which were long monopolized by the old Italian masters for their own profit, or that of a few privileged scholars. In 1812 he brought out with great success at the St. Carlo an opera in two acts, imitated from the French, _Il Califo di Bagdad_. In 1816 Rossini wrote for him the parts of Almaviva in the _Barber of Seville_ and of _Otello_. The air with variations, now sung as a finale to the Cenerentola, was composed originally for Garcia in _Almaviva_, and placed at the end of the second act of _Il Barbiere_, but only sung by him at Rome. In the autumn of the same year he returned to Paris, being engaged by Madame Catalani, at that time directress of the Théâtre Italien, and made his debut on the 17th October in _Il Matrimonio Secreto_. He afterwards performed in his own opera, _Il Califo di Bagdad_, in _Griselda_, _Cosi fan tutte_, _Le Nozze di Figaro_, Portogallo’s _Semiramide_, and several others, with equal distinction as an actor and a singer. By selecting Mad. Cinti to represent the principal female character in the Califf he gave that charming singer, who had hitherto been confined to secondary parts, the first opportunity of displaying her talents in a favourable light. The piece, the actor, and the actress enjoyed a moment of popularity, when all at once Garcia and his Califf disappeared. It was whispered that his chief offence was having called down as much applause in _Semiramide_, as the Queen of Babylon herself, and so reducing that august princess to the necessity of playing, for several days, the character of _La finta Ammalata_ (the pretended patient). However this may be, Garcia, tired and ashamed of being eternally haggling for sixpences, left Paris and went to London, where he made his début on the 10th March, 1818, in his favourite part of _Almaviva_, and remained until the end of the ensuing season, 1819, when he returned to Paris.

It is to Garcia that the Parisian audiences owe their first acquaintance with the music of Rossini; and if the public knew all green-room intrigues that were resorted to, and all the obstacles Garcia had to encounter before he succeeded in having that great composer’s operas performed, its sense of obligation for the eminent services he at length succeeded in rendering them would not be small. In 1817 he had played Lindoro in the _Italiana in Algeri_, the first opera of Rossini’s ever performed in Paris; but when he wished to bring out the _Barber of Seville_ for his own benefit, the opera was judged unworthy of the capital of France, and the singer forced to select another piece. Better instructed this time, he made the bringing out of _Il Barbiere_ the _sine quâ non_ of his engagement, and thus to his perseverance Paris owes the hearing this masterpiece of the comic opera within three years of its being composed.

The period between the autumn of 1819 and the beginning of 1824, which Garcia spent in Paris, formed the most brilliant portion of his musical career. As an actor and singer he enjoyed the highest popularity, especially in the parts of Almaviva, Otello, and Don Juan. As a composer, he wrote _La Mort du Tasse_ and _Florestan_ for the French opera; _Il Fazzoletto_ for the Théâtre Italien and for the Gymnasium _La Meunière_; finally, as a professor of singing, he numbered amongst his pupils Adolphe Nourrit, the Countess Merlin, Mad. Favelli, and Mad. Méric Lalande. About this time he was also appointed first tenor of the chamber and chapel to the king. In 1824, Garcia was again engaged for the London opera, and returned to England. It was in London that Garcia completed the education of his gifted daughter, the present Mad. Malibran. In London he also opened an academy for singing. In the autumn of 1825, the Garcias left London; made a tour of the midland and northern parts of England; sang at some concerts and music-meetings at Manchester, Derby, and York; and finally embarked at Liverpool, on an excursion to the western continent.

To recount the whole of Garcia’s adventures in the New World; to lay before the reader the state of music in New York and Mexico at the moment he arrived in those cities; to paint all the difficulties he had to surmount, or speculate on the effect his residence amongst them had upon a population to whom the arts were quite new, would require too much space: a few of the principal events in his active and brilliant career is all we can afford room for. The company with which he crossed the Atlantic consisted of himself and the younger Crivelli, _tenors_; his son Manuel Garcia, and Angrisani, _bassi cantanti_; Rosich, _buffo caricato_; with Mad. Barbiere, Mad. Garcia, and her daughter Marietta, _soprani_. _Il Barbiere_, the opera which they chose as their introduction to an American audience, was almost entirely performed by the family party; Garcia playing Almaviva, his daughter Rosina, his son Figaro, and his wife Berta. In the course of the season they successively brought forward _Otello_, _Romeo_, _Il Turco in Italia_, _Don Giovanni_, _Tancredi_, _La Cenerentola_, and two operas of Garcia’s composition, _L’Amante Astuto_, and _La Figlia dell’ Aria_,--the latter written expressly for his daughter and Angrisani.

The air of New York did not agree with an Andalusian constitution, and Garcia removed, in search of a more congenial climate, from the United States to Mexico. Instead of finding in the capital of New Spain the repose which he had promised himself, he was soon compelled to sing and compose more than ever. Three Italian operas had been got up with the original words; but the Mexicans, though they had taste enough to relish the music, were not satisfied with performances of which they did not understand a single syllable. Garcia had no resource but to compose Spanish operas, or adapt Spanish words to the Italian: he did both. Amongst the operas written by him for the Mexican theatre, _Semiramide_ and _Abufarez _may be particularly mentioned; and he adapted Spanish words to his own _Amante Astuto_, which was performed several nights running. The Mexican company, half native and half foreign, was nothing remarkable before Garcia arrived amongst them; he soon found that the duties of composer, director, chief of the orchestra, singing-master, chorus leader, and even machinist and decorator, must all centre in himself. His indefatigable activity was rewarded with such success, that he often said, ‘I would exhibit my Mexican performers now before a Parisian audience, and they would not be unworthy the honour.’

Notwithstanding the favourable reception he had met with in Mexico, Garcia could not avoid being uneasy at the daily increasing symptoms of animosity between the natives and the Spaniards. Foreseeing a speedy rupture between them, he resolved to return to Europe: he had great difficulty in obtaining passports, but at length succeeded, and set off for Vera Cruz, provided with a guard of soldiers, which, however, proved too weak, or too faithless, to protect him and his goods. At a place called Tepeyagualco, his convoy was attacked by brigands, and himself obliged to lie flat on his face, while his baggage was plundered of 1000 ounces of gold--the savings of his industry and economy. He came off with his life, however, and succeeded in getting once more to Paris, where he determined to dedicate the rest of his days to teaching. He appeared again at the Théâtre Italien, but declined very advantageous offers of an engagement at the Scala, and applied himself with new ardour to the instruction of his pupils[8]. The last, whose education he completed, were Madame Raimbeaux, Mademoiselle Edwige, and Madame Ruiz Garcia. Garcia died on the 9th of June, 1832, after a short illness, which was not at first considered at all dangerous.

To the last moment of his life Garcia was incessantly occupied with the art to which the whole of that life had been dedicated, enjoying a wonderful facility and an activity of mind not less astonishing. He has left behind him an immense number of manuscripts. Besides the operas already mentioned in the course of this narrative, he was the author of numerous others, most of which have not been brought out. The list of such of them as are known to us follows:--_Il Lupo d’Ostende_, two acts; _Acendi_ (Spanish), two acts; _Astuzia e Prudenza_, one act, performed in London at the Argyle Rooms; _I Banditi_, two acts; _La Buona Famiglia_ (words as well as music), by Garcia, one act; _Don Chisciotte_ (Spanish), two acts; _La Gioventù d’Enrico Quarto_, two acts; _El Jetano por Amore_ and _Los Maridos Solteros_ (Spanish), two acts each; _Sophonès_ (French), the words by M. de Jouy; _Le Tre Sultane_, two acts; _Un Ora di Matrimonio_, one act, with both Spanish and Italian words, played in Mexico; _Xaira_ and _El Zapatero de Bagdad_ (Spanish), two acts each; _Zemira ed Azor_, two acts. The last works of Garcia were five operettas for the chamber, with piano-forte accompaniment, _L’Isola Disabitata_, _Li Cinesi_, _Un Avertimento ai Gelosi_, _I Tre Gobbi_, and _Il Finto Sordo_. Garcia was also the author of a number of less extensive works, both for the voice and for instruments.

* * * * *

For the substance of the foregoing Memoir we are indebted to the _Revue Musicale_, the editor of which, or the writer of the article in that work, has apparently been somewhat biassed by feelings of personal friendship. He has viewed Garcia both as an actor and as a composer, with partial eyes. In the former capacity he was anything but refined; and in the latter, except a few trifles of a purely Spanish kind, whatever he may have produced is now utterly forgotten, and has not the slightest chance of ever being rescued from oblivion. He was to a certain extent a good musician, and had he not been so much addicted to what are, by abuse of language, called ornaments, would have deserved all the praise bestowed on him as a singer, for he possessed great energy, a full knowledge of the _score_, and at one time a rich, beautiful voice, of very considerable compass.

RUBINI.

~Gian Battista Rubini~ was born at Romano, a small town in the province of Bergamo, on the 7th of April, 1795. He is the youngest of three brothers, all tenor singers of considerable celebrity; the eldest, Jeremiah, has quitted the stage from inability to continue the fatigues of a theatrical life: the second, Giacomo is first tenor in the chapel of the king of Saxony, and is besides a stage singer of great talent. Their father was a small music-master, played the horn in the theatre, and to his other occupations added that of being a getter-up of fêtes and musical performances in the neighbouring churches and chapels. He had a complete corps of singers and players, with a collection of masses, vespers, motets, and litanies, all at the service of any chapter or convent that chose to hire them. Rubini, the father, was entrepreneur, and blew the horn--his three sons, as they grew up, were enlisted in his vocal corps; but as their voices were not always required, and he neither chose nor could afford to let them be idle, Jeremiah was taught to play the organ, and Giacomo and Gian Battista the violin, by which means his whole family quartet was in constant requisition.

At eight years of age the little Rubini had already enchanted divers convents of nuns by his performance of the _Salve Regina_, perched up on a high stool, which was necessary to elevate his head to the level of the violins. At ten, his father, diffident of his own powers as a singing-master, placed the child under one Don Santo, priest and organist of Adro, a town in the province of Brescia, who, at the expiration of a year, sent him back to his parents with the consoling assurance, that nothing would ever make him a singer, so they had better look about for some other trade or profession to bring him up to. The father, who thought he knew better the boy’s capacity, took him again under his own care, and succeeded so well, that he not long after invited the same Don Santo to hear a mass, in which his rejected scholar sang the _Qui tollis_ in such a style, that the parent enjoyed at once the pleasure and revenge of forcing the old organist to admit that he was mistaken in the judgment he had so hastily pronounced.

In his twelfth year, Gian Battista made his début on the boards of the Romano Theatre, in a female character, and for his own benefit: his receipts, both in applause and money, were gratifying, and he soon after went to Bergamo, where he was engaged to play the violin between the acts of the comedy, and to sing in the chorus during the opera season. While here, a _petite comédie_ was put in rehearsal, in one scene of which was a cavatina--but, alas! no one in the troop could sing: somebody suggested Rubini, and at length the manager offered him an extra five-franc piece to study and sing this troublesome air. The terms were accepted, and young Gian Battista’s performance created a complete _furore_ in Bergamo. The song was composed by Lamberti; and Rubini is still fond of singing it occasionally, to remind him of his first success.

For some time after this, however, Rubini appears to have led the precarious and miserable life of a stroller; but at length, being in Milan in the year 1814, he met with a Marquis Belcredi, one of those numerous Italian counts, marquesses, &c., who follow sometimes the honourable occupation of engagement-brokers for the theatres, and not unfrequently even less reputable means of making money. By Belcredi he was offered an engagement, for the autumn season, of four months at Pavia, at the liberal salary of eleven crowns, or about 1_l._ 18_s._ a month. Rubini’s necessities would not allow him to refuse this offer: he went to Pavia, and distinguished himself so much that his success made a sensation even at Milan. Belcredi engaged him immediately for the carnival of 1815 at 1000 francs the season; and sent him to perform at Brescia, whence he transferred him for the spring season to the theatre of St. Moire, at Venice, at a salary of 2000 francs. Here he had an opportunity of singing with the bass Zamboni, and the contralto Mad. Marcolini, for whom Rossini wrote his _Italiana in Algeri_. Rubini next entered into an engagement with Barbaja, director of the theatres of Naples for six months, at eighty-four ducats (about 16_l._) per month, with a clause providing that, at the end of the first three months, the engagement should be renewable for a year at the increased salary of 100 ducats a month. He sang at the _Teatro dei Fiorentini_ with Pellegrini, and was rising in public favour, when Barbaja, instead of renewing his engagement at the higher salary, proposed to dismiss him entirely, and only consented to retain him on condition of his terms being lowered to seventy ducats. Rubini had many cogent reasons which made him anxious to remain at Naples: he naturally desired to improve the hold which he had already upon the public favour there; he found himself in the society of the celebrated tenor, Nozzari, a countryman of his own, from whom he received most valuable hints and lessons; and whose example, as Rubini carefully watched and imitated him, both as an actor and singer, was nearly, if not quite, as valuable as his instructions. He therefore accepted Barbaja’s terms,--saying, however, at the same time, with the consciousness of talent, ‘You take advantage of my present situation, but will have to pay for it before long.’

The getting up of _La Gazza Ladra_, in the carnival of 1819, is still remembered among the _fasti_ of Roman theatricals. The duet between Giannetto and Ninetta, in the prison scene, ‘_forse un di conoscerai_,’ was constantly encored; and the Roman ladies, during the whole carnival, carried about with them to the balls puppets dressed in the costume of their favourite actor and actress.

From Rome, Rubini, still under engagements to Barbaja, returned to Naples, and thence crossed over to Palermo, where he sang with Donzelli and Lablache. His début in Sicily was in an opera of Mosca, which would never have survived the first night’s performance, but for a _ruse_ of the singer. From the very beginning the poor maestro was hissed: piece after piece shared the same fate, until the principal tenor began his cavatina; the adagio, although it escaped hisses, made little impression on the audience; but the allegretto movement which followed called forth rounds of enthusiastic applause, which Mosca was only too happy to acknowledge and appropriate by repeated bows. The fact was, that Rubini, finding Mosca’s adagio passable, but his allegretto worse than bad, had insisted on substituting the similar movement from the air of Orestes, in Rossini’s Ermione, ‘_Ah come mai nascondere_.’ For ten days the deception remained undiscovered; and the Palermitans could hardly bestow praises enough on the author of so heavenly an allegretto. But, alas! on the eleventh a printed copy of the air arrived from Naples, and stripped poor Mosca of his borrowed plumes.

While at Palermo, Rubini was the hero, and narrowly escaped being the victim of an adventure as romantic, but fortunately for him not so fatal, as that of Stradella. On his arrival in Sicily he waited on a certain princess, to whom he had letters of recommendation, and was received with the kindness which talents and even his personal appearance seemed to deserve. In the evening, on coming before the audience, Rubini made a respectful inclination towards his fair patroness, and appeared to address towards her box his most touching passages and most brilliant roulades. In Sicily jealousy is as instantaneous as lightning, and vengeance follows it as rapidly as thunder the flash. The prince, who did not understand the musical homage paid to his wife, forthwith employed two bravoes to poignard the presumptuous _primo tenore_, and dispose of his body as usual in such cases--that is, by throwing it into the sea. Accordingly, on quitting the theatre, he was suddenly sprung upon by two men, who seized his arms, muffled his head in a cloak, and began to drag him towards the sea-shore. He had no power to call out, and if he had had, nobody attends to such calls in Sicily: in fact he had already made up his mind that his last cavatina in this world was sung, when, luckily for him, one of the bravi recognized his victim. He was an _amateur_, to whom Rubini had often given orders for the opera. So soon as he was aware who it was that he had engaged to exercise his profession upon, his heart failed him; and, instead of using his stiletto, he acquainted Rubini with the offence he had committed, set him at liberty, and recommended him to escape from Sicily without loss of time. On his return to Naples, Rubini heard, for the first time, Madlle. Chaumel, who was passing through that city in her way to fulfil an engagement at Palermo, and was so charmed with her voice and style, that he recommended Barbaja to retain her at Naples. Barbaja took the advice--Mad. Chaumel shone during two or three seasons a bright star at the _St. Carlo_ and the _Fondo_; and the lady and Rubini so often enacted the lover and mistress, that at length they realised the illusion of the theatre, and became man and wife.

In 1824 Barbaja was removed from the management of the Neapolitan theatres; whereupon he migrated to Vienna, taking with him the whole corps of singers who were under engagements to him,--and amongst them Rubini and his wife. The company assembled in the Austrian capital, on this occasion, was perhaps the most numerous and splendid that was ever united at one time in one city. The _prime donne_ amounted to nine, most of whom had already established a high reputation, and of whom the remainder nearly all have now attained the first rank in their profession; Sontag, Fodor, Mombelli, Rubini, Eckerlin, Ungher, Giudetta Grisi, Dardanelli, and Grimbaum. The tenors were David, Rubini, Donzelli, and Cicimira; and the basses, Lablache, Ambrogi, Botticelli, and Bassi. At the end of this brilliant season Rubini returned to Naples; and, in the autumn of 1825, made his first appearance at Paris, where his reception was perhaps more enthusiastic than in any other city he had visited. His performance in the _Cenerentola_, _La Donna del Lago_, _Otello_, and _La Gazza Ladra_, established him at once, in the judgment of the Parisian dilettanti, at the very summit of his profession, and gained him the appellation of _Roi des tenors_.

From Paris Rubini returned to Naples, and thence went to Milan, where the then new composer, Bellini, wrote the fine part of Gualtero in _Il Pirata_, especially for him. In the following year, 1827, he appeared in two new operas, Donizetti’s _Anna Bolena_, and the _Sonnambula_ of Bellini. Both these composers, in writing for Rubini, adopted a style which had been so long neglected that it appeared new. Instead of florid compositions, loaded with roulades and divisions, they limited themselves, in the airs and duets intended for him, to simple, graceful, and pathetic melodies, calculated to display to the greatest advantage his elocutionary and impassioned style[9].

In the summer of 1831, Rubini, together with his wife, appeared at the London Opera: he has since that withdrawn Mad. Rubini entirely from the stage, finding his own earnings, since he has been out of Barbaja’s clutches, quite sufficient for their joint support. For fifteen years he was at the command of this leviathan of the opera, who disposed of his voice and talents, and sent him to this capital or the other, according as it suited his own interest or combinations, and receiving for his exertions enormous sums, of which by far the greater part went to enrich the entrepreneur, not the singer. Before he was emancipated from Barbaja, the salary of himself and his wife was only (!) 60,000 francs (2500_l._); the first year of his emancipation, his earnings amounted to 125,000 francs, upwards of 5200_l._ (!!)

In the autumn of 1831, Rubini again visited Paris, where he was received with renewed enthusiasm, and in which city he is still performing with undiminished popularity.

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS AND ANECDOTES OF BEETHOVEN.

[In our last number (page 6), we inserted an account, from the Leipzig Musical Gazette, of _Beethoven’s Studien in Generalbasse_, &c.--a work recently published in Vienna,--and have since received the volume, which comprises the studies, with numerous and most valuable remarks by Beethoven, and many of his _fragments_, or unconnected observations, on musical subjects, chiefly on recitative, in 352 octavo pages. These are followed by thirteen pages of biography,--in which nothing is added to what has already appeared in our work,--and the following anecdotes, together with other matter, of which we shall avail ourselves in the two or three succeeding numbers. In our next will appear his chapter on Canon, a species of composition which he seems to have estimated according to its real value, therefore has dwelt most on the canon in unison,--the only rational kind,--of which he gives short, simple, and very pleasing examples, the most interesting whereof we shall reprint.]

* * * * *

Beethoven should by no means be offered as a model for directors of orchestras. The performers under him were obliged cautiously to avoid being led astray by their conductor, who thought only of his composition, and constantly laboured to depict the exact expression required, by the most varied gesticulations. Thus, when the passage was loud he often beat time downwards, when his hand should have been up. A diminuendo he was in the habit of marking by contracting his person, making himself smaller and smaller; and when a pianissimo occurred, he seemed to slink, if the word is allowable, beneath the conductor’s desk. As the sounds increased in loudness, so did he gradually rise up, as if out of an abyss; and when the full force of the united instruments broke upon the ear, raising himself on tiptoe, he looked of gigantic stature, and, with both his arms floating about in undulating motion, seemed as if he would soar to the clouds. He was all motion, no part of him remained inactive, and the entire man could only be compared to a _perpetuum mobile_.

When his deafness increased, it was productive of frequent mischief, for the Maestro’s hand went up when it ought to have descended. He contrived to set himself right again most easily in the piano passages, but of the most powerful fortes he could make nothing. In many cases, however, his eye afforded him assistance, for he watched the movements of the bows, and thus discovering what was going on, soon corrected himself.

* * * * *

Among his favourite dishes was a bread soup, made in the manner of pap, in which he indulged every Thursday. To compose this, ten eggs were set before him, which he tried before mixing them with the other ingredients, and if it unfortunately happened that any of them were musty, a grand scene ensued; the offending cook was summoned to the presence by a tremendous ejaculation. She, however, well knowing what might occur, took care cautiously to stand on the threshold of the door, prepared to make a precipitate retreat; but the moment she made her appearance the attack commenced, and the broken eggs, like bombs from well-directed batteries, flew about her ears, their yellow and white contents covering her with viscous streams.

He never walked in the streets without a note-book, in which he entered whatever occurred to him at the moment. If the conversation accidentally turned upon this habit, he parodied the words of Joan of Arc,--“Without my colours I must not come,” and with undeviating firmness observed the self-imposed law. But his regularity was confined to this; the most exquisite confusion reigned in his house:--Books and music were scattered in all directions; here the residue of a cold luncheon--there some full, some half-emptied, bottles. On the desk the hasty sketch of a new quartett; in another corner the remains of breakfast. On the piano-forte, the scribbled hints for a noble symphony, yet little more than in embryo--hard by, a proof-sheet, waiting to be returned. Letters from friends, and on business, spread all over the floor. Between the windows a goodly Stracchino cheese: on one side of it ample vestiges of a genuine Verona Salami; and, notwithstanding all this confusion, he constantly eulogised, with Ciceronian eloquence, his own neatness and love of order! When, however, for whole hours, days, and often weeks, something mislaid was looked for, and all search had proved fruitless, then he changed his tone, and bitterly complained that everything was done to annoy him. But the servants knew the natural goodness of their master; they suffered him to rave, and in a few minutes all was forgotten,--till a similar occasion renewed the scene.

* * * * *

He himself often joked about his almost illegible characters, and used to add, by way of excuse, ‘Life is too short to paint letters or notes, and fairer notes would hardly rescue me from poverty,’ (punning upon the words _noten_ and _nöthen_.)

The whole of the morning, from the earliest dawn till dinner time, was employed in the mechanical work of writing: the rest of the day was devoted to thought, and the arrangement of his ideas. Scarcely had the last morsel been swallowed, than, if he had no more distant excursion in view, he took his usual walk; that is to say, he ran in double quick time, as if hunted by bailiffs, twice round the town. Whether it rained, or snowed, or hailed, or the thermometer stood an inch or two below freezing point--whether Boreas blew a chilling blast from the Bohemian mountains,--or whether the thunder roared, and forked lightnings played,--what signified it to the enthusiastic lover of his art, in whose genial mind, perhaps, were budding, at the very moment when the elements were in fiercest conflict, the harmonious feelings of a balmy spring?

* * * * *

Beethoven permitted himself but rarely, even among his intimate friends, to express his opinions of contemporary artists. His own words, however, will attest what he thought of the four following masters:--

‘Cherubini is, in my opinion, of all the living composers, the most admirable. Moreover, as regards his conception of the requiem, my ideas are in perfect accordance with his, and some time or other, if I can but once set about it, I mean to profit by the hints to be found in that work.’

‘C. M. Weber began to learn too late: the art had not time to develope itself, and his only and very perceptible effort was, to attain the reputation of geniality.’

‘Mozart’s _Zauberflöte_ will ever remain his greatest work; for in this he first showed himself the true German composer. In _Don Giovanni_ he still retained the complete Italian cut and style, and moreover the sacred art should never suffer itself to be degraded to the foolery of so scandalous a subject.’[10]

‘Handel is the unequalled master of all masters! Go, turn to him, and learn, with few means, how to produce such effects[11]!’

* * * * *

During his last illness it was found necessary to draw off his water, and during the operation, he observed--‘Rather water from my body than from my pen.’

* * * * *

He received a flattering invitation from a musical society to compose a cantata, the request being accompanied by a portion of the sum to be paid for the work. Beethoven accepted it. For a very long time, however, nothing more was heard of him. Then came, couched in the most delicate terms, a letter to remind him of his engagement, signed, in consequence of the absence of the president of the society, by his _locum tenens_ (_Stellvertreter_). The reply was,--‘I have not forgotten; such things must not be precipitated; I shall keep my word.--Beethoven, ~M.P.~[12] (Selbstvertreter), se ipsum tenens.’

Alas! he _could not_ keep his word.

* * * * *

If he happened not to be in the humour, it required pressing and reiterated entreaties to get him to the piano-forte. Before he began in earnest, he used sportively to strike the keys with the palm of his hand, draw his finger along the key-board, from one end to the other, and play all manner of gambols, at which he laughed heartily.

* * * * *

During his summer residence at the seat of a Mecænas, he was on one occasion so rudely pressed to exhibit before the stranger guests, that he became quite enraged, and obstinately refused a compliance which he considered would be an act of servility. A threat that he should be confined a prisoner to the house,--uttered, no doubt, without the slightest idea of its being carried into execution,--so provoked Beethoven, that, night time as it was, he ran off, upwards of three miles, to the next town, and thence, travelling post, hurried to Vienna. As some satisfaction for the indignity offered him, the bust of his patron became an expiatory sacrifice. It fell, shattered into fragments, from the bookcase to the floor.

* * * * *

After he had become deaf, Beethoven spoke little, but wrote his observations on his tablet. ‘What is Rossini?’ he was once asked. He wrote, in answer, ‘A good scene-painter.’

SONG OF THE SWAN.

_To the_ ~Editor~ _of the_ ~Harmonicon~.

~Sir~,

The passage in last month’s ‘Diary of a Dilettante,’ relative to the assertion of an eminent Swedish naturalist, that the swan, instead of being a silent bird, has a peculiar and musical note of its own, recalls to mind a discussion on which critics and commentators, as well as naturalists, have spent much time and ink without effect. The late Mr. Joddrell, in his elaborate illustrations of Euripides, dedicated thirty-four octavo pages to the collecting, classing, and balancing all the authorities pro and con, but concludes without arriving a whit nearer certainty than when he began. The modern evidence he thus sums up:

‘If we recapitulate in a summary manner the modern evidence, we
shall find that Leland and Olaus Magnus believed it. Aldrovraudus
has added to his own knowledge the testimony of Fred. Pendasius,
George Bracus, Albertus, and Antonius Musa Brasavelus, who declared
it on the evidence of their own senses. Olaus Wormius, besides
the assertion of several of his scholars who were natives of
Iceland, mentions the attestation of John Rostorph, upon oath.
Bartholinus, to his own observation on the vernal song of the swan,
has annexed the personal experience of Geo. Wilkelius and Paulus
Melisius Schedius Francus: and Ernestus has cited the testimony
of an Asiatic, and of Paulus Vidalinus. There are the authors and
witnesses of more modern times, who acknowledge and support the
ancient idea of the harmony of the swan; and it is remarkable that
the expression of “swan-song” is used to this day as proverbial in
Sweden, to express any great eclat of a person when taking his last
farewell. On the other hand, in opposition to these authorities,
Erasmus, Scaliger, Bodin, Dr. Brown, Willoughby, Morin, Pennant,
and Bryant, consider this supposed song a visionary notion, without
any natural foundation to support it.’

I quote the above from a letter in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for Sept. 1782, written by a correspondent who advocates decidedly the negative side of the question, appeals to the ancients for further support, and finally proposes that the celebrated John Hunter should set the point at rest, by dissecting a swan, and ascertaining whether its throat contained organs competent to the formation of musical sound or no. This letter produced an answer in the following November, which will serve to shew that Sweden and Iceland are, at all events, not the only countries frequented by the swan in a state of nature, in which the inhabitants firmly believe in its musical powers. After a short introductory paragraph, the writer says,--