CHAPTER VII.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE BARBER
Torvaldo e Dorliska was followed, after but a short interval, by Il Barbiere, for which a contract was signed the very day, Dec. 26, on which Torvaldo was brought out. The contract was in the following terms: —
"Nobil Teatro di Torre Argentina, Dec. 26th, 1815.
"By the present act, drawn up privately between the parties, the value of which is not thereby diminished, and according to the conditions consented to by them, it has been stipulated as follows: —
"Signor Puca Sforza Cesarini, manager of the above-named theatre, engages Signor Maestro Gioachino Rossini for the next carnival season of the year 1816; and the said Rossini promises and binds himself to compose and produce on the stage, the second comic drama to be represented in the said season at the theatre indicated, and to the libretto which shall be given to him by the said manager, whether this libretto be old or new. The Maestro Rossini engages himself to deliver his score in the middle of the month of January, and to adapt it to the voices of the singers; obliging himself, moreover, to make, if necessary, all the changes which may be required, as much for the good execution of the music as to suit the capabilities or exigencies of the singers.
"The Maestro Rossini also promises and binds himself to be at Rome and to fulfil his engagement not later than the end of December of the current year, and to deliver to the copyist the first act of his opera, quite complete, on the 20th January, 1816. The 20th January is mentioned in order that the partial and general rehearsals may be commenced at once, and that the piece may be brought out the day the director wishes, the date of the first representation being hereby fixed for about the 5th of February. And the Maestro Rossini shall also deliver to the copyist, at the time wished, his second act, so that there may be time to make arrangements, and to terminate the rehearsals soon enough to go before the public on the evening mentioned above; otherwise the Maestro Rossini will expose himself to all losses, because so it must be and not otherwise.
"The Maestro Rossini shall, moreover, be obliged to direct his opera according to the custom, and to assist personally at all the vocal and orchestral rehearsals as many times as it shall be necessary, either at the theatre or elsewhere, at the will of the director; he obliges himself also to assist at the three first representations, to be given consecutively, and to direct the execution at the piano; and that because so it must be, and not otherwise. In reward for his fatigues the director engages to pay to the Maestro Rossini the sum and quantity of 400 Roman scudi, as soon as the first three representations which he is to direct at the piano shall be terminated.
"It is also agreed that in case of the piece being forbidden, or the theatre closed by the act of the authority, or for any unforeseen reason, the habitual practice in such cases, at the theatres of Rome and of all other countries shall be observed.
"And to guarantee the complete execution of this agreement, it shall be signed by the manager, and also by the Maestro Gioachino Rossini; and, in addition, the said manager grants lodgings to the Maestro Rossini during the term of the agreement, in the same house that is assigned to Signor Luigi Zamboni."
It is not certain, however, that Rossini received as much as 400 scudi (about 80l.) for his Barber, for Rossini, consulted long afterwards as to the correctness of the figures given in the contract, said he was under the impression that he had only received 300 scudi, or about 60l.3 For the copyright of the music he received not a farthing. He did not even take the trouble to get it engraved; and two of the pieces, the overture (for which the overture to Elisabetta, previously known as the overture to Aureliano in Palmira, was afterwards substituted) and the scene of the music lesson (which Rossini had treated as a trio for the music-master, his pupil, and the pupil's guardian), were somehow lost in the theatre.
What the manager, on his side, purchased from Rossini, was the right of representation for two years; after which the work might be played by any one, as it might from the first moment be engraved by any one, without payment of any kind. The manuscript could not naturally find its way into the publisher's hands without the composer's consent. But as a matter of custom composers received nothing from the publishers. In England, curiously enough, operatic composers have hitherto, with scarcely an exception, looked exclusively to the publishers for their profits, and have received nothing from the managers. The representation, according to the English view, serves to advertise the work, and to cause a demand at the music shops for the principal pieces. In Italy the engraved music did not apparently find many purchasers. The public cared above all things to hear the music executed on the stage; and with a view to the gratification of this desire the directors found it necessary to provide them constantly with new works, which they moreover found it necessary to order and to pay for.
The manager of the Argentina Theatre had experienced some trouble in procuring a suitable subject for the libretto he wished Rossini to set. The censorship was exercised with great severity, or rather with great scrupulosity, by the so-called Patriarch of Constantinople —Patriarchus in partibus infidelium and if, instead of Beaumarchais' Barber of Seville, Cesarini had proposed the same author's Marriage of Figaro, it is tolerably certain that the Patriarch would have refused to license so revolutionary a drama. When the politically harmless Barber of Seville was suggested, the censor at once approved. But it was now for Rossini to hesitate. To object, he had by the terms of his agreement no right; since he had undertaken to set any libretto that might be given to him, "new or old." The masters of the eighteenth century accepted readily for their operas themes which had been treated again and again, and even actual libretti to which, several times over, music had been composed. Almost every composer, for instance, had tried his hand on Dido Abandoned, or on the Descent of Orpheus into the Infernal Regions; and we have seen that the story of Dido and the story of Orpheus were both treated by Rossini in his early days. Rossini, however, had now ideas of his own on the subject of musical setting, on the subject of dramatic propriety, and probably also on that of the propriety of taking for his theme one that had already been dealt with very successfully by a composer of high repute. Doubtless, in spite of his agreement, he would have refused altogether to take the Marriage of Figaro as subject of an opera, for we know by his recorded conversations with Ferdinand Hiller, that he regarded Mozart as the greatest of all dramatic composers. He felt, too, some delicacy, perhaps even some diffidence, in adopting the verses on which the illustrious Paisiello had already worked. He explained to Cesarini how impossible it would be for him to attack the identical libretto which Paisiello had set; and it was arranged that Sterbini, the poet who had furnished Rossini with the "words" (as musicians say),4 of Torvaldo e Dorliska, should perform a like service for him in connection with the Barber. Sterbini and Rossini understood one another as librettist and composer always should do; and they lived together in the same house – "the house assigned to Luigi Zamboni," as the contract has it – until the work was finished. The admirable unity of the Barber, in which a person without previous information on the subject could scarcely say whether the words were written for the music or the music for the words, may doubtless in a great measure be accounted for by the fact that poet and musician were always together during the composition of the opera; ready mutually to suggest and to profit by suggestions. Nor was it a slight advantage that the two operatic partners were living together "in the house assigned to Luigi Zamboni." Signor Luigi Zamboni was to take the part of Figaro; and we may be sure that "Largo al fattotum," set to music as soon as it was written, was handed to Zamboni as soon as it was composed.
Poet and composer had with them Beaumarchais' comedy of the Barber of Seville, and Paisiello's opera founded thereupon. Paisiello's opera was already known to Rossini, but he does not seem to have been quite familiar with Beaumarchais' comedy. Sterbini read it to him from beginning to end, and it was then decided what in Beaumarchais' comedy should be adopted – the principal dramatic scenes had of course to be taken – and what in Paisiello's libretto should be rejected. The queer incidental scenes for La Jeunesse who does nothing but sneeze, and L'Eveillé who does nothing but yawn, were cut out; and the work was so divided as to give Rossini the opportunity of composing a far greater number of musical pieces than are to be found in Paisiello's work. In dialogue scenes where Paisiello had contented himself with making the interlocutory personages exchange long passages of recitative, Rossini allowed the characters on the stage to declaim, but supported their declamation, not by a succession of chords, but by brilliant themes for the orchestra. No such thoroughly musical opera had before been composed. The series of melodies was almost continuous, and the characters on the stage only ceased to sing for tuneful strains to be executed by the instrumentalists. This transfer of the current of melody from the voices to the instruments was new in Italy; but brilliant examples of it are of course to be found in Mozart's operas which were performed for the first time in Italy, just before Rossini's Barber of Seville. Sterbini was a most accommodating poet. He was quite prepared to carry out the composer's ideas, and did not object to alter, curtail or add to his verses with a view to increasing the effectiveness of Rossini's music. After writing "Largo al fattotum," with the rapidity of an improvisator he handed the verses to Rossini, remarking – as Leopold II. remarked to Mozart with regard to the number of notes contained in the Seraglio– that there were "too many." "Precisely the right number," was virtually Rossini's reply; and inspired by their vivacity and their rhythmical flow, he, in fact, set them all. Something of the light-hearted elastic character of the constantly changing air must doubtless be attributed, not only to the verve with which Sterbini had written the words, but also to the impulsiveness and volubility with which Rossini knew beforehand that Zamboni would sing them.
Rossini worked so quickly that at times he found himself ahead of his poet – though, as regards the mere putting down on paper, the writing of verses is but trifling labour compared to that of composing music. Thus, without waiting for verses, he found a melody or devised a form for the next musical piece in the order agreed upon, and thereupon asked the obliging Sterbini to furnish him with suitable "words." Besides a leading singer in the next room, the poet and composer had by their side a number of copyists, to whom Rossini threw the sheets of music as he finished them. For thirteen days the joint authors had scarcely time to eat, and M. Azevedo asserts that they slept but little, and then only on a sofa, when it so happened that they could no longer keep their eyes open. For thirteen days Rossini did not shave; and when some one observed how strange it was that the Barber should have caused him to let his beard grow, he replied, that if he had shaved he should have gone out, and that if he had gone out he should not have returned as soon as he ought to have done. It seems incredible that in thirteen days the whole of the Barber should have been composed in score; but it is certain that the contract binding Rossini to compose it was only signed on the 26th December, and that he directed the first, second, and third performances of Torvaldo e Dorliska on the 27th, 28th and 29th. Some days, too, were lost in discussing various subjects for the proposed opera with the Roman censorship; and finally, when the Barber of Seville had been decided upon, Rossini had to read the comedy and to compare it with the libretto of Paisiello's opera, and to arrange with his own librettist a new distribution of scenes. The date of the first representation had been fixed for February 5th, and it was customary at the Italian theatres to allow fifteen days for rehearsals. He must then have finished the work in less than a month – between December 29th and January 24th; and one month is the time given by M. Castil-Blaze in his Histoire du Théâtre Italien. Stendhal, however, says (after Carpani) that the Barber was composed in thirteen days; and this statement is repeated – not, it must be presumed without verification – by M. Azevedo.
On one point connected with the production of the new Barber, Stendhal and Azevedo are quite at variance. According to the former, Rossini, as a matter of politeness, went through the unnecessary form of asking Paisiello's leave to reset the work, and received from him full permission to do so; the ancient master nourishing the hope that in recomposing a work which had already, as he believed, received its permanent musical form, the young composer would bring himself to grief. M. Azevedo denies that Rossini asked Paisiello's consent in the matter. But he adds that the venerable maestro knew of Rossini's intention, and not only looked forward to the failure of his youthful rival, but was even prepared to lend a helping hand thereto.
CHAPTER VIII.
IL BARBIERE
ROSSINI did not bring out his Barber without addressing a few words of explanation, if not of apology, to the public; and by way of disclaiming all idea of entering into rivalry with Paisiello he announced his opera under a new title.
"Beaumarchais' comedy," he wrote, in an advertisement to the public, "entitled the Barber of Seville; or, The Useless Precaution,5 is presented at Rome in the form of a comic drama, under the title of Almaviva; or, The Useless Precaution, in order that the public may be fully convinced of the sentiments of respect and veneration by which the author of the music of this drama is animated with regard to the celebrated Paisiello, who has already treated the subject under its primitive title.
"Himself invited to undertake this difficult task, the maestro, Gioachino Rossini, in order to avoid the reproach of entering into rivalry with the immortal author who preceded him, expressly required that the Barber of Seville should be entirely versified anew, and also that new situations should be added for the musical pieces, which, moreover, are required by the modern theatrical taste – entirely changed since the time when the renowned Paisiello wrote his work.
"Certain other differences between the arrangement of the present drama and that of the French comedy above-cited were produced by the necessity of introducing choruses, both for conformity with modern usage, and because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a theatre. The courteous public is informed of this beforehand, that it may also excuse the author of the new drama who, unless obliged by these imperious circumstances, would never have ventured to introduce the least change into the French work, already consecrated by the applause of all the theatres in Europe."
When, in the above announcement, Rossini speaks of "new situations for the musical pieces which are required by the modern theatrical taste, entirely changed since the time of Paisiello;" and again of the necessity of introducing choruses, "both for conformity with modern usage and because they are indispensable for musical effect in so vast a theatre," he describes changes which he himself introduced. The "modern theatrical taste" of Rossini's time was the taste he had himself created. That Paisiello's forms, and especially his formlessness (as in long scenes of recitative) were already considered old and were indeed obsolete, though his Barber had only been thirty-five years before the public, was implied rather pointedly in the sub-title of Sterbini's libretto, which was described as follows: "Comedy by Beaumarchais, newly versified throughout, and arranged for the use of the modern Italian Musical Theatre."
Paisiello's Barber had decidedly grown old. But as it was no longer played, people, by reason of its ancient reputation, continued to hold it in esteem; and the Roman public considered it very audacious for a young composer like Rossini to have ventured into competition with so illustrious a master. The young librettist Sterbini was considered quite as impertinent in his way as his musical associate. Among the Roman public a compact body of Paisiello's friends, with the spirit of Paisiello in the midst of them, formed a dangerous clique of enemies; and so determined was the opposition that Rossini had to meet on the occasion of his work being represented for the first time that the overture – an original work composed expressly for Il Barbiere, and not the overture to Aureliano and to Elisabetta afterwards substituted for it – was executed in the midst of a general murmuring; "such," remarks Zanolini, "as is heard on the approach of a procession."6
According to M. Azevedo the original overture was lost through the carelessness of a copyist; but the work could scarcely thus have disappeared unless not only the score, but also the band parts, had vanished. Stendhal says that the overture at the first representation was that of Aureliano in Palmira– the one performed even to the present day. He adds that the audience recognised, or fancied it recognised, in the overture the grumbling of the old guardian and the lively remonstrances of his interesting ward. However that may have been the overture was scarcely listened to; nor did the introduction meet with any better fate, nor, indeed, could even the appearance of Garcia on the stage dispose the public in favour of the new work.
Garcia, the most famous tenor of his time, was of course the Almaviva of the evening. It has already been seen that Luigi Zamboni, Rossini's fellow-lodger during the composition of the work, was the original Figaro. The Don Basilio was Vitarelli; Bartolo, Botticelli. The part of Rosina was assigned to Mme. Giorgi-Righetti, who has left a very interesting account of the first representation of the opera.7
The composer had been weak enough, says the prima donna of this historical evening, "to allow Garcia to sing beneath Rosina's balcony a Spanish melody of his own arrangement." Garcia held that as the scene was laid in Spain, and as Count Almaviva was a Spaniard nothing could be more appropriate than that this interesting personage should address the lady of his heart in Spanish song. Unfortunately he forgot to tune his guitar, and this indispensable preliminary operation had to be performed by Rosina's serenader on the stage. The public began to laugh; then a string broke, and the public began to hiss. When the broken string had been replaced, and the air so awkwardly prefaced was at length heard, the public did not like it and only listened to it enough to be able to reproduce certain passages of it in burlesque tones. The introduction to Figaro's air, which, as every opera-goer knows, is, before being sung by the vocalist, played by the orchestra, attracted, as well it might do, a certain amount of attention. When, however, Zamboni entered with another guitar, the anti-guitarists set up a loud laugh, and without waiting to see whether the baritone, unlike the tenor, had taken the trouble to tune his instrument beforehand, hissed and hooted so that not a note of "Largo al Fattotum" was heard. When Mme. Giorgi-Righetti made her appearance in the balcony, she was, in her character of favourite singer, applauded; but having no air assigned to her in this not very suitable situation, the audience thought they were being robbed of the expected cavatina, and uttered murmurs of disapprobation. The brilliant and melodious duet for Almaviva and Figaro was sung in the midst of hisses and derisive shouts. When, however, Rosina reappeared and sang the first notes of "Una voce" the audience became silent; a chance was given to the composer for the sake of the singer. Mme. Giorgi-Righetti was radiant with youth and beauty; the effect of her fresh, beautiful voice was too much for the opposition. The conclusion of her bright, sparkling air was followed by three long rounds of applause. Rossini bowed from his place, at the head of the orchestra, to the public, and then turning towards the singer, whispered, "Oh natura!"
Vitarelli, the representative of Don Basilio, had "made up" admirably for the part; and his entry would possibly have been effective but that a trap having been left open on the stage he stumbled over it, fell, damaged his face, and on rising had to begin his admirable dramatic air on the efficacy of calumny with his handkerchief to his nose. A portion of the public is said to have imagined that the fall, the injuries to the face, the handkerchief to the nose, were all in the business of the part, and thinking it savoured of buffoonery, expressed their disapproval accordingly. The duet of the letter was objected to by reason of certain incidents afterwards left out; but the music must have been liked for its own sake had it only been heard. As if the untuned guitar, the broken string, the newly-placed cavatina, the open trap, the fall of Don Basilio, and the necessity under which Rosina's music-master found himself of singing "La Calunnia" with a handkerchief in front of his mouth had not been enough, the opening of the finest concerted finale which had yet been given to the Italian stage was the signal for the appearance of a cat, which was chased in one direction by Figaro, in another by Bartholo, and which, in a wild endeavour to escape from an attack made upon it by Basilio, ran into the skirt of Rosina's dress. The self-introduction of the cat among the principal characters, grouped together for the finely built concerted piece which brings the first act to an end, disarranged as a matter of course all the master's combinations. During the performance of the opening movement the attention of the public was concentrated entirely on the cat, and general laughter went on increasing until the long, elaborate, constantly varied, and, on all other occasions, highly interesting finale was brought to an end.
With something like a just appreciation of his own merit and with profound contempt for the injustice and insolence of the public, Rossini, on the fall of the curtain, turned round and applauded. He was the only person in the theatre who did so; and the audience indignant at the presumption of this interested minority of one, was at the same time so astonished that it forgot at the time to manifest its resentment.
The moment of vengeance arrived when the curtain rose for the second act. The public showed what it thought of Rossini's having ventured to show what he thought of his own music, by hissing and hooting in such a manner that not a note of the second act was heard. The composer, while this organised noise was being kept up, remained perfectly calm at the orchestral piano. At the end of the performance he went home to bed; and when the principal singers called upon him soon afterwards to condole with him he was fast asleep.
The only change that Rossini next day found it necessary to make in his work was to substitute a new air for the unfortunate Spanish song which Garcia had been allowed to introduce. This gave him no trouble. He simply transcribed for the solo voice the melody of the celebrated chorus which had already figured first in Ciro in Babilonia, and afterwards in Aureliano in Palmira. Such was the origin of the beautiful "Ecco ridente il cielo" which he handed to Garcia as he wrote it, and which was sung the same evening. Those who believe in the absolute significance of music apart from words, may be interested to hear that Almaviva's charming love song was, as first composed, a prayer – as a love song after all may well be.
At the second representation the Barber was comparatively well received. Being heard, it was naturally admired. Indeed, a certain number of connoisseurs are said to have appreciated it from the very first, though on the opening night the difficulty must have been not to understand the work – which appeals alike to the simplest, and to the most cultivated, musical intelligence – but merely to hear it. After a few performances Rossini's new work began to excite enthusiasm; and it had not been before the public for more than a week when it was received nightly with frantic applause.
Garcia's Spanish melody was, after some years, reintroduced into the Barber by Rubini; the trio which, in the music lesson scene, occupied the place now filled by no matter what fancy air that the Rosina of the evening thinks fit to introduce, is known to have been lost: and it has been seen that, according to some authorities, a like fate attended the overture written specially for the work. Stendhal, on the unacknowledged authority of Carpani, states that at the first representation the opera was preceded by the overture to Aureliano in Palmira and to Elisabetta, which, though heard in connection with the former work at Milan and in connection with the latter at Naples, had never been heard at Rome. Besides borrowing from himself, Rossini, in more than one "number" of the Barber of Seville, was indebted to the invention of others. The melody of the trio "Zitti zitti" is taken, note for note, from Simon's air in Haydn's Seasons– a work, it will be remembered, of which Rossini in his early youth had directed the performance at the Lyceum of Bologna. The very lively tune sung by the Duenna Berta is adapted without much alteration from a Russian dance, which Rossini had heard played by a Russian lady of his acquaintance. It soon became the custom not to listen to Berta's air, which is always assigned to an inferior singer; and it acquired the name of the "Ice tune;" not in allusion to its place of origin, but because, during its performance, the people in the boxes called for ices. The part of Rosina, which in the present day is usually given to the soprano, was composed for the mezzo-soprano voice. Mme. Giorgi-Righetti sang it, of course, in its original key; that of F. Many a soprano has sung it in G. According to an account given by M. Castil-Blaze in his Histoire du Théâtre Italien of the different keys in which the principal airs of Il Barbiere have been sung, Figaro's "Largo al fattotum," written for Zamboni in the key of C, is generally sung in B flat; Tamburini, however, sang it in B natural. Basilio's "La calunnia," written in D, is for the most part sung in C. Lablache used to sing in D flat the air for Bartholo, written in E flat.
Whatever may be said as to the character belonging absolutely to this or that key, it would be difficult to allow that the music of Rosina, of Figaro, of Basilio, or of Bartolo has either lost or gained by these frequent transpositions.