CHAPTER VII.

SOME LESSER STARS IN THE OPERATIC FIRMAMENT.

(_a_) THE ITALIAN SCHOOL (CIMAROSA TO VERDI).

The Italian school—Opera Buffa—The Neapolitan school—Piccini—A notable contest—Cimarosa—Rossini: his _Barber of Seville_—Recitative and its significance—_William Tell_—Bellini and Donizetti—Verdi: his early and later operas.

[Sidenote: =The Italian School=]

Italy was the birthplace of modern opera, and for generations the language of opera was Italian, irrespective of the nationality of the composer. Thus a large number of the operatic works of Gluck and of Mozart, both of whom rank as German masters, were to libretti in Italian. On the contrary, many Italian-born musicians, such as Cherubini and Spontini, devoted their best efforts to Grand Opera in France. When speaking of the Italian school, therefore, it must be understood that the language of the libretto and the class of opera are taken into account, rather than the nationality of the composer.

[Sidenote: =Opera Buffa=]

Side by side with Grand Opera, as typified by Gluck, there grew up a lighter and less serious form of musical play known as “Opera Buffa.” At first designed as an interlude or intermezzo between the acts of a serious drama, this new and bright art form was so fascinating as to quickly justify for itself a separate existence. It was mostly harmonious in character, and the music was, appropriately, of slighter texture. It flourished most luxuriantly in Naples, from which fact the composers of these charming little operas are generally classed as the “Neapolitan school.”

[Sidenote: =The Neapolitan School=]

[Sidenote: =Piccini, 1728-1800=]

[Sidenote: =A Notable Contest=]

Logroscino (born about 1700), who invented the connected series of separate movements known as the Concerted Finale, and Pergolesi (1710-36), who wrote a famous example of this kind of opera under the title _La Serva Padrona_, are two notable members of this little band of composers. In addition to these may be named Jomelli, Sacchini, Galuppi, Paisiello, and Piccini, the last-named being specially famous through his contest with Gluck, a musical duel yet more notorious than that between Handel and Buononcini already mentioned. For Piccini, a man of great talent though not of genius, was brought to Paris in 1776 and pitted against the reformer Gluck, whose revolutionary methods of procedure met with anything but favour in certain quarters. The rival composers, strongly backed by their respective supporters, fought bitterly for pre-eminence, with results only too disastrous to the poor Italian maestro, who was very unfortunately handicapped. For we read that on the night of the first production of the work, which was seriously intended to beat Gluck on his own ground (the same subject for a libretto—viz., _Iphigenia in Tauride_—having been chosen), his music was almost wrecked by the prima donna of the occasion, that good lady being hopelessly intoxicated; whereupon men exclaimed, “Not Iphigenia in Tauride, but Iphigenia in Champagne!” In spite of his merits, this composer of eighty operas is now hardly known, except in connection with this famous controversy.

[Illustration: CIMAROSA.]

[Sidenote: =Cimarosa, 1749-1801=]

A more famous Neapolitan is Cimarosa, whose sparkling work, _The Secret Marriage_, is still played to-day. On the occasion of its first performance at Vienna in 1792, the Emperor was so delighted with it that he ordered its repetition on the same evening, thoughtfully providing the artistes with supper between the performances. Cimarosa’s other works, although charming and sometimes of great beauty, are now practically dead: his fame was soon eclipsed by that of the young and rising Mozart.

[Sidenote: =Rossini, 1792-1868=]

With the success of Mozart and Weber in German opera, and the desertion of the Italian methods in favour of the French by Cherubini and Spontini, Italian opera lay for a while under a cloud. This was dispersed by the furore created by the operatic creations of Rossini, who, although by no means a very skilled or capable musician, had a rare knowledge both of effect and also of the kind of thing to which the general public loves to listen. Melodic gifts were his, and when one adds a certain clever and tricky use of the orchestra and an evident desire to give the singers the most vocal and effective music that he could possibly invent, we can readily understand how successful was this facile composer.

[Sidenote: “=The Barber of Seville=”]

The earliest of his operas to win him fame was _Tancredi_, a grand opera produced in 1813. This was followed after an interval of two years by the production of one of his best known works, _The Barber of Seville_, an excellent example of Opera Buffa. Its overture is well known, and introduces samples of that effective device, cheap and yet wondrously convincing, known as the “Rossinian _Crescendo_.” This is attained, as will be seen, by the use of a simple figure of melody begun very softly and continued with greater and greater degrees of power and more and more instruments. In spite of its simplicity and obviousness, its effect is an intoxicating one, and is an example of the simple and yet unfailing means by which Rossini attracted his public.

Example of a Rossini “Crescendo,” from the Overture to “Il Barbiere.”

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[Sidenote: =Recitative=]

The whole opera, with its brilliant bravura voice passages, its grandiose effects of double thirds, and its periods of climax, is particularly characteristic of its composer. Rossini produced a vast number of operas, both serious and comic; in the former he made a great innovation when he wrote _Otello_ in 1816. We have already frequently mentioned that in Grand Opera the music must be always continuous; this, however, does not imply a continuous series of airs, duets, and choruses. These were divided by passages of blank verse or dialogue, which correspond to the passages of dialogue with which we in England are so familiar in the productions of Gilbert and Sullivan. When these passages were _spoken_, as in Beethoven’s _Fidelio_ or Weber’s _Der Freischütz_, the work, however tragic in subject, was not termed “Grand Opera” at all, but rather “Comic Opera” or “Singspiel.” When, however, _all_ was sung, then the term “Grand Opera” was applied.

But a difference was given to the musical setting of such passages to that allotted to the more lyrical portions. At first, when there were no lyrics, as in the early Monteverde operas, the musical setting was of the same character throughout; after the introduction of the Aria into opera by Scarlatti, the intermediary dialogue was often set to music of a _parlante_ (or speaking) nature, generally without time divisions or musical accent: this portion of the music was termed the Recitative.

So unimportant was this Recitative considered from a musical point of view that no trouble was taken in the writing of it—it was a necessary evil. Mozart, we find, on one or two occasions, entrusted its composition to his pupil Sussmäyr. Moreover, the orchestra rarely played the accompaniment to it, this task being entrusted to the harpsichord; even the part for this was not written out, only a bass with figures being provided. It will thus be seen how small a degree of importance was attached to the music of these connecting links: such recitative was termed “Recitativo secco,” and of this our first quotation from Peri is a good example. (See page 35.)

Both Monteverde and Gluck had made attempts at relieving the dulness of this method of accompaniment by the introduction not only of the orchestra, but also of fitting and suitable music on certain occasions. Rossini revived this plan in _Otello_, and since then it has been generally employed in all serious opera. From the fact that the instruments of the orchestra are necessary for its proper presentation, this form of recitative has received the name of _Recitativo Stromentato_.

[Sidenote: “=William Tell=”]

Rossini’s operas have mostly gone the way of all such light and trivial music, but among the more long-lived specimens may be named _La Cenerentola_, _Gazza Ladra_, and _William Tell_. The last-named, with its popular overture, is a work of much better class than its brethren, and was written some long period after the others, when Rossini himself began to be dissatisfied with his earlier works. The fact, however, remains that he can never have taken himself as a very serious musician, for the last forty years of his life were spent in idleness and he wrote practically nothing.

[Sidenote: =Bellini and Donizetti=]

What has been said of the operas of Rossini applies also in very large measure to those of his followers—Mercadante, Pacini, Bellini, and Donizetti, all of whom wrote on the same empty plan. Of these four the last-named produced works which have had the greatest longevity, and, thanks to certain _prime donne_ who have more belief in the beauty and skill of manipulation of their voices than they have love for the real and artistic in music, some are still to be heard during every opera season. The most famous Bellini opera is _Norma_, while _La Sonnambula_ runs it a close second. Donizetti is remembered by _Lucia di Lammermoor, Lucretia Borgia, La Favorita, La Fille du Régiment, and L’Elisir d’Amore_.

[Sidenote: =Verdi, 1814-1901=]

More worth attaches to the many beautiful works of the last of this school, Verdi, who lived to so ripe an age and so modernized his methods that his later operas all belong rightly to a post-Wagner period. But in his early scores Verdi wrote entirely on the Italian model, and although of sterner mould than Bellini and Donizetti, his works bear a close family resemblance to those of his immediate predecessors. Like them, Verdi had a ready gift of melody. Such operas as _Ernani_ (1844), _Rigoletto_ (1851), _Il Trovatore_ (1853), and _La Traviata_ (1853)—the last-named having been written in the short space of one month—are replete with energy and vigour and full of broad and sometimes somewhat vulgar tune. These works still hold their position on the stage, and appeal to those who love easily grasped and tuneful music, coupled with interesting dramatic action.

[Illustration: VERDI.]

For years Verdi wrote operas on this popular plan, producing the familiar _Un Ballo in Maschera_ as late as 1859. But the influence of the methods of Wagner was creeping over him, and (although he never attempted to follow the master to the full) it is evident in his grand opera _Aïda_, produced in 1871. This work, rich and glowing with local colour, and with a plot whose action is laid in Egypt, is a stepping-stone between the earlier and later operas, and shows the music of its composer in a transition stage. Here is a type of Verdi’s ready gift of melody:—

Radamès’ first Aria in “Aïda” (Verdi).

[Music]

Celeste Aïda forma divina mistico serto di luce e fior

[Sidenote: =Verdi’s Later Operas=]

_Otello_, produced in 1887, and _Falstaff_ in 1893, when its wonderful creator was just upon eighty years of age, are modern operas in the real sense of the expression. The old Verdi is to a great extent laid aside, and these marvellous and powerful works, while still exhibiting great freshness of melody, give evidence also of such masterly use of the orchestra, and such perfect wedding of words with music as is only to be found in the music of the most modern days. So that in Verdi’s operas we stretch hands across the chasm that divides the simple, melodious, old-fashioned works from the complex polyphonic modern examples, and note in his compositions a movement and progress parallel with that made in all other branches of musical art during a similar period of its history.