A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Rossini, Gioachino

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2694866A Dictionary of Music and Musicians — Rossini, Gioachino


​ROSSINI, Gioachino Antonio, one of the brightest musical luminaries of the 19th century was born Wednesday, February 29, 1792, a Pesaro, a small town on the Adriatic, N.W. of Ancona, and was the only child of Giuseppe Rossini of Lugo, and Anna Guidarini of Pesaro. The position of his parents was of the humblest; his father was town-trumpeter (trombadore) and inspector of slaughter-houses, and his mother a baker's daughter, but their life was a happy one, and so irrepressible were the good humour and fun of the town-trumpeter that he was known among his friends as 'the jolly fellow.' The political struggles of 1796, however, invaded even this lowly household; the elder Rossini declared himself for the French, and for republican government, and during the reaction of the Austrian party in the States of the Church was naturally sent to gaol. His wife, thus deprived of her means of subsistence, was driven to turn her voice to account. She went with her little Gioachino to Bologna, and there made her début as 'prima donna buffa' with such success as to procure her engagements in various theatres of the Romagna during the Carnival. Meantime the trombadore had regained his liberty and was engaged as horn player in the bands of the theatres in which his wife sang; the child remaining at Bologna, in the charge of an honest pork butcher, while his parents were occupied in campaigns not unlike those of the 'Roman comique' of Scarron. Such surroundings were hardly favourable to education, and it is not wonderful that Gioachino's learning was confined to reading, writing, and arithmetic. Music he acquired from a certain Prinetti of Novara, who gave him harpsichord lessons for three years; but the lessons must have been peculiar, for Prinetti was accustomed to play the scale with two fingers only, combined his music-teaching with the sale of liquors, and had the convenient habit of sleeping as he stood. Such a character was a ready butt for the son of a joker like Giuseppe Rossini; and so incorrigible was Gioachino's love of mimicking his master that at length he was taken from Prinetti, and apprenticed to a smith.

Such was his shame at this result and his sorrow at the distress of his mother, that he resolved from that time forward to amend and apply. In Angelo Tesei he fortunately found a clever master, able to make singing and practical harmony interesting to his pupil: in a few months he learned to read at sight, to accompany fairly on the piano, and to sing well enough to take solos in church at the modest price of three pauls per service. He was thus able, at the age of ten, to assist his parents, who, owing to a sudden change in his mother's voice, were again in misfortune. In his desire to help them he seized every opportunity of singing in public, and eagerly accepted an offer to appear at the theatre of the Commune as Adoifo in Paer's 'Camilla.' This was his first and only step in the career of a dramatic singer, but it must have been often difficult to resist taking it up again, when he saw singers receiving a thousand ducats for appearing in operas which he both composed and conducted for fifty.

Thus at the age of thirteen Rossini was a sufficiently good singer to be well received at the theatre; he also played the horn by his father's side, and had a fair reputation as accompanyist. At this time he acquired a valuable friend in the Chevalier Giusti, commanding engineer at Bologna, who took a great affection for the lad, read and explained the Italian poets to him, and opened his fresh and intelligent mind to the comprehension of the ideal; and it was to the efforts of this distinguished man that he owed the start of his genius, and such general knowledge as he afterwards possessed. After three years with Tesei he put himself under a veteran tenor named Babbini to improve his singing. Shortly after this his voice broke, at the end of the autumn of 1806, during a tournée in which he accompanied his father as chorus-master and maestro al cembalo, an engagement in which the daily income of the two amounted to 11 pauls, about equal to 4 shillings. The loss of his voice cost him his engagements in church; but it gave him the opportunity of entering the Conservatorio, or Liceo communale, of Bologna. On March 20, 1807, he was admitted to the counterpoint class of Padre Mattei, and soon after to that of Cavedagni for the cello. He little anticipated when he took his first lesson that his name would one day be inscribed over the entrance to the Liceo, and give its title to the adjacent square.[1]

His progress on the cello was rapid, and he was soon able to take his part in Haydn's quartets; but his counterpoint lessons were a trouble and a worry to him from the first. Before he entered Mattei's class he had composed a variety of things—little pieces for two horns, songs for Zambini, and even an opera, called 'Demetrio,' for his friends the Mombellis. A youth at once so gifted and so practised deserved a master who was not merely a learned musician, but whose pleasure it should be to introduce his pupil into the mysteries of the art with as little trouble as possible. Unfortunately Mattei was a pedant, who could see no reason for modifying his usual slow mechanical system to suit the convenience of a scholar however able or advanced. His one answer to his pupil's enquiry as to the reason of a change or a progression was, 'It is the rule.' The result was that after a few months of discouraging labour Gioachino began to look to instinct and practice for the philosophy, or it least the rhetoric, of his art. The actual parting is the subject of an anecdote which is not improbably true. Mattei was explaining that the amount of counterpoint which his pupil had already acquired was sufficient for a comoser in the 'free style'; but that for church-music much severer studies were required. 'What,' cried the boy, 'do you mean that I ​know enough to write operas?' 'Certainly,' was the reply. 'Then I want nothing more, for operas are all that I desire to write.' There was in this something of the practical wisdom which distinguished the Rossini of later life. Meantime it was necessary that he and his parents should live, and he therefore dropped counterpoint and returned to his old trade of accompanyist, gave lessons, and conducted performances of chamber music. He was even bold enough to lead an orchestra, and took the direction of the 'Accademia dei Concordi'—in other words, of the Philharmonic Society of Bologna. There is no reason to doubt that it was more by scoring the quartets and symphonies of Haydn and Mozart than by any lessons of Padre Mattei's that Rossini learned the secrets and the magic of the orchestra. His fame at the Liceo increased day by day, and at the end of his first year his cantata 'Il Pianto d'armonia per la morte d'Orfeo'—the lament of Harmony over the death of Orpheus—was not only rewarded with the prize, but was performed in public, Aug. 8, 1808. He was then in his seventeenth year. The cantata was followed not by a symphony, as is sometimes said, but by an overture in the fugued style, in imitation of that to Mozart's 'Magic Flute,' but so weak, that after hearing it played he lost no time in destroying it. The same fate probably attended some pieces for double bass and strings, and a mass, both written at the instance of Signor Triossi of Ravenna, a distinguished amateur of the double bass. Rossini had hitherto been known at Bologna as 'il Tedeschino'—'the little German'—for his devotion to Mozart; but such serious efforts as composing a mass, and conducting a work like Haydn's Seasons at the Philharmonic Society, were probably intended as hints that he wished to be looked upon no longer as a scholar, but as a master waiting his opportunity for the stage.

It may be easier to enter on a career in Italy than elsewhere, but even there it is not without its difficulties. Rossini by his wit and gaiety had, in one of his tournées, made a friend of the Marquis Cavalli, who had promised him his interest whenever it should be wanted. The time was now come to claim the fulfilment of the promise, and Rossini's delight may be imagined when he received an invitation to compose an opera, from the manager of the San Mosè Theatre, at Venice. He hastened to prepare the piece, and 'La Cambiale di Matrimonio' or the 'Matrimonial Market' was produced there in the autumn of 1810. The piece was an opera buffa in one act; it was supported by Morandi, Ricci, De Grecis, and Raffanelli, and had a most encouraging reception. After this feat he returned to Bologna, and there composed for Esther Mombelli's benefit a cantata called 'Didone abbandonata.' In 1811 he wrote for the Teatro del Corso of Bologna an opera buffa in two acts, 'L'Equivoco stravagante,' which closed the season with success, and in which both he and Marcolini the contralto were highly applauded.

1812 was Rossini's twentieth year, and with it begins what may be called his Epoch of Improvisation. Early in that year he produced, at the San Mosè Theatre, Venice, two buffa operas—'L'Inganno felice,' and 'L'occasione fa il Ladro, ossia il Cambio della valigia.' The first of these, a Farsa, a trifle in one act, was well sung and much applauded, especially an air of Galli's, 'Una voce,' a duet for the two basses, and a trio full of force and original melody. After the Carnival he went to Ferrara, and there composed an Oratorio, 'Giro in Babilonia,' which was brought out during Lent, and proved a fiasco. So did 'La Scala di Seta,' an opera buffa in one act, produced at Venice in the course of the spring; but on the other hand, 'Demetrio e Polibio,' brought out at the Teatro Valle, Rome, by his old friends the Mombellis, was well received. The piece was not improbably the same that we have mentioned his writing at the age of fifteen to words by Mme. Mombelli, retouched according to his new lights. At any rate a quartet among its contents was at once pronounced a masterpiece, and a duet, 'Questo cor,' which followed it, produced an excellent effect. Rossini however did not waste time in listening to applause. While the Mombellis were engaged on this serious opera, he flew off to Milan to fulfil an engagement which Marcolini had procured for him, by writing, for her, Galli, Bonoldi, and Parlamagni, a comic piece in two acts called 'La Pietra del Paragone,' which was produced at the Scala during the autumn of 1812, with immense success. It was his first appearance at this renowned house, and the piece is underlined in the list as 'musica nuova di Gioachino Rossini, di Pesaro.' The numbers most applauded were a cavatina, 'Ecco pietosa,' a quartet in the second act, the duel-trio, and a finale in which the word 'Sigillara' recurs continually with very comic effect. This finale is memorable as the first occasion of his employing the crescendo, which he was ultimately to use and abuse so copiously. Mosca has accused Rossini of having borrowed this famous effect from his 'Pretendenti delusi,' produced at the Scala the preceding autumn, forgetting that Mosca himself had learned it from Generali and other composers. Such accusations, however, were of little or no importance to Rossini, who had already made up his mind to adopt whatever pleased him, wheresoever he might find it. In the meantime he took advantage of his success to pass a few days at Bologna with his parents, en route for Venice; and thus ended the year 1812, in which he had produced no less than six pieces for the theatre.

Nor was 1813 less prolific. It began with a terrible mystification. He had accepted a commission of 500 francs for a serious opera for the Grand Theatre at Venice, but the manager of San Mosè, furious at his desertion, in pursuance of some former agreement, forced on him a libretto for that theatre, 'I due Bruschini, o il figlio per azzardo,' which, if treated as intended, would inevitably have been the death of the music. From this dilemma Rossini ingeniously ​extricated himself by reversing the situations, and introducing all kinds of tricks. The second violins mark each bar in the overture by a stroke of the bow on the lamp shade; the bass sings at the top of his register and the soprano at the bottom of hers; a funeral march intrudes itself into one of the most comical scenes; and in the finale the words 'son pentito' are so arranged that nothing is heard but 'tito, tito, tito.' Those of the audience who had been taken into the secret were in roars of laughter, but the strangers who had paid for their places in good faith, were naturally annoyed and hissed loudly. But no complaints were of any avail with Rossini, he only laughed at the success of his joke. 'I due Bruschini' disappeared after the first night, and the remembrance of it was very shortly wiped out by the appearance of 'Tancredi' at the Fenice during the Carnival. The characters were taken by Manfredini, Malanotte, Todran, and Bianchi. A work so important and so full of spirit, effect, and melody, was naturally received with enthusiasm, and nobody had time to notice that the long crescendo of the finale strongly resembled that of Paisiello's 'Re Teodoro,' that a phrase in the first duo, to the words 'Palesa almen,' is borrowed from Paer's 'Agnese,' and that the allegro in E flat of the grand duet, 'Si tu sol crudel,' is also borrowed from the 'Sofonisba' of the same composer. Such criticisms as these were lost in the general admiration at the new and spirited character of the music. It was in fact the first step in the revolution which Rossini was destined to effect in Italian opera. All Venice, and very soon all Italy, was singing or humming 'Mi rivedrai, ti rivedrò.' Hardly any one now remembers that it is only to the happy accident that Malanotte was dissatisfied with her air, and insisted on its being rewritten, that we owe the 'Di tanti palpiti,' which was nicknamed the 'aria de' rizzi,' because it was said to have been dashed off while waiting for a dish of rice. One must read the accounts of the day to understand the madness—for it was nothing else—which 'Tancredi' excited among the Venetians. 'I fancied,' said Rossini, with his usual gaiety, 'that after hearing my opera they would put me into a madhouse—on the contrary, they were madder than I.'

Henceforward he was as much fêted for his social qualities as for his music. But he did not give way to such dissipations for long. His next work was 'L'Italiana in Algeri,' an opera buffa produced at the San Benedetto theatre, Venice, in the summer of 1813. Its greatest novelty was the famous trio 'Papataci,' a charming union of melody and genuine comedy; while the patriotic air, 'Pensà alla Patria,' which closes the work, spoke not less powerfully to the hearts of his countrymen.

'Aureliano in Palmira' and 'Il Turco in Italia' both belong to 1814 [App. p.776 "1813–14"], and were brought out at the Scala, Milan, the first in the Carnival [App. p.776 "in Dec. 1813"], the second in the autumn season, before an audience somewhat more critical than that at Venice. 'Aureliano,' though it contains some fine things, which were afterwards utilised in 'Elisabetta' and the 'Barbiere,' was a fiasco. The 'Turco' too was not received with the applause which it afterwards commanded. Rossini, however, was greatly fêted during his stay in Milan, and among his 'amiable protectresses'—to use the expression of Stendhal—was the Princess Belgiojoso, for whom he composed a cantata entitled 'Egle ed Irene.' His next opera, 'Sigismondo,' written for the Fenice at Venice, in the Carnival of 1815, was unsuccessful, and the failure so far affected him as to make him give up work for a time, and retire to his home at Bologna. There he encountered Barbaja, who from being a waiter at a coffee-house had become the farmer of the public gaming-tables and impresario of the Naples theatre. Barbaja though rich was still bent on making money; he had heard of the success of the young composer, and of his brilliant talents, and was resolved to get hold of him; and Rossini, with the support of his parents on his hands, was ready enough to listen to any good proposal. He accordingly engaged with Barbaja to take the musical direction of the San Carlo and Del Fondo theatres at Naples, and to compose annually an opera for each. For this he was to receive 200 ducats (about £35) per month, with a small share in the gaming-tables, amounting in addition to some 1000 ducats per annum, for which however he obtained no compensation after the tables were abolished in 1820.

During Murat's visit to Bologna in April 1815 Rossini composed a cantata in favour of Italian independence; but politics were not his line, and he arrived in Naples fully conscious of this, and resolved that nothing should induce him to repeat the experiment. The arrival of a young composer with so great a reputation for originality was not altogether pleasing to Zingarelli, the chief of the Conservatoire, or to the aged Paisiello. But no intrigues could prevent the brilliant success of 'Elisabetta, regina d'Inghilterra,' which was produced before the Court for the opening of the autumn season, 1815, and in which Mlle. Colbran, Dardanelli, Manuel Garcia, and Nozzari took the principal parts. The libretto of this opera was by a certain Schmidt, and it is a curious fact that some of its incidents anticipate those of 'Kenilworth,' which was not published till several[2] years later; a coincidence still more remarkable when the difference between the two authors is taken into account—Walter Scott gay, romantic, and famous, Schmidt unknown and obscure, and, though not wanting in imagination, so gloomy as to have damped the spirits of Rossini by his mere appearance and conversation. Two historical facts should be noted in regard to 'Elisabetta.' It is the first opera in which Rossini so far distrusted his singers as to write in the ornaments of the airs; and it is also the first in which he replaced the recitative secco by a recitative accompanied by the stringed quartet. The overture and the finale to the first act of 'Elisabetta' are taken from 'Aureliano.'

​Shortly before Christmas Rossini left Naples For Rome to write and bring out two works for which he was under engagement. The first of these, 'Torvaldo e Dorliska,' produced at the Featro Valle, Dec. 26, 1815, was coldly received, but the second, 'Almaviva, ossia L'inutile precauzione,' founded on Beaumarchais' 'Barber of Seville,' by Sterbini, which made its first appearance at the Argentina Feb. 5, 1816, was unmistakeably damned. The cause of this was the predilection of the Romans for Paisiello, and their determination to make an example of an innovator who had dared to reset a libretto already treated by their old favourite. Rossini, with excellent taste and feeling, had inquired of Paisiello, before adopting the subject, whether his doing so would annoy the veteran, whose 'Barbiere' had been for a quarter of a century the favourite of Europe, and not unnaturally believed that after this step he was secure from the illwill of Paisiello's friends and admirers.[3] But the verdict of a theatre crammed with partisans is seldom just. It is also as changeable as the winds, or as Fortune herself. Though hissed on the first night, 'Almaviva' was listened to with patience on the second, advanced in favour night by night, and ended by becoming, under the title of 'The Barber of Seville,' one of the most popular comic operas ever composed, and actually eclipsing in spirit and wit the comedy on which it is founded. It was acted by Giorgi-Righetti (Rosina), Rossi (Berta), Zamboni (Figaro), Garcia (Almaviva), Botticelli (Bartolo) and Vitarelli (Basilio). The original overture was lost, and the present one belongs to 'Elisabetta'; the opening of the cavatina 'Ecco ridente' is borrowed from the opening of the first chorus in 'Aureliano.' It is in the delicious andante of this cavatina that Rossini first employs the modulation to the minor third below, which afterwards became so common in Italian music. The air of Berta, 'Il vechiotto cerca moglie,' was suggested by a Russian tune, and the eight opening bars of the trio 'Zitti, zitti' are notoriously taken note for note from Simon's air in Haydn's 'Seasons.' Indeed it is astonishing that, with his extraordinary memory, his carelessness, and his habitual hurry, Rossini should not have borrowed oftener than he did. He received 400 scudi (£80) for 'The Barber,' and it was composed and mounted in a month. When some one told Donizetti that it had been written in thirteen days, 'Very possible,' was his answer, 'he is so lazy.'

Lazy as he was, Rossini was destined to write twenty operas in eight years, 1815–1823. On his return to Naples after the Carnival of 1816, and the gradual success of 'The Barber,' he found the San Carlo theatre in ashes, to the great distress of the King of Naples, who justly considered it one of the ornaments of his capital. Barbaja, however, undertook to rebuild it more magnificently than before in nine months. He kept his word, and thus acquired not only the protection but the favour of the king. Rossini obtained the same boon by composing a grand cantata entitled 'Teti e Peleo' for the marriage of the Duchess de Berry. No sooner had he completed this than he dashed off a 2-act comic opera entitled 'La Gazzetta' to a libretto by Tottola, which was produced at the Teatro dei Fiorentini, Naples, and which, although in the hands of a clever and charming actress like Chambrand, and of two such public favourites as Pellegrini and Casaccia, was but moderately successful. The work however contained some admirable passages, which were afterwards utilised by the composer. Rossini completed his reform of serious opera by his 'Otello,' which was brought out at the Teatro del Fondo, Naples, in the autumn of 1816, with Isabella Colbran, Nozzari, Davide, Cicimarra, and Benedetti as its interpreters. In this opera, of which the third act is the finest, the recitatives are fewer and shorter than before, and, in accompanying them, the wind instruments are occasionally added to the strings. Some of the most remarkable features of this grand work, such as the finale of the first act, the duet 'Non m'inganno,' and the passionate trio of defiance, were not at first appreciated: the touching air of Desdemona, 'Se il padre,' doubly effective after the paternal curse which precedes it, and the romance of the Willow, with the harp accompaniment—then quite a novelty—were better received; but the tragic termination of the whole was very distasteful to the public, and when the opera was taken to Rome, it was found necessary to invent a happy conclusion. This curious fact deserves mention for the light which it throws on the low condition of dramatic taste in Italy at that period.

The machinery, and power of rapidly changing the scenes, were at that time so very imperfect in smaller Italian theatres, that Rossini would only accept the subject of Cinderella when proposed to him by the manager of the Teatro Valle at Rome, on condition that the supernatural element was entirely omitted. A new comic piece was therefore written by Ferretti under the title of 'Cenerentola, ossia la bontà in trionfo'; Rossini undertook it, and it was produced at the beginning of 1817. Its success, was unmistakeable, though the cast was by no means extraordinary—Giorgi, Catarina Rossi, Guglielmi, De Begnis, Verni, and Vitarelli.

In the profusion and charm of its ideas this delicious work is probably equal to the 'Barbière,' but it appears to us to be inferior in unity of style. No doubt this is partly owing to the fact that many of the pieces were originally composed to other words than those to which they are now sung. The duet 'Un soave non sò chè,' the drinking-chorus, and the mock proclamation of the Baron, are all borrowed from 'La Pietra del Paragone'; the air 'Miei rampolli' is from 'La Gazzetta,' where it was inspired by the words 'Una prima ballerina'; the air of Ramiro recalls that to 'Ah! vieni' in ​the trio in 'Otello'; the delightful stretto of the finale, the duet 'Zitto, zitto,' the sestet 'Quest' è un nodo avvilupato'—a truly admirable morceau—and various other incidental passages, originally belonged to the 'Turco in Italia'; and the humorous duet 'Un segreto' is evidently modelled on that in Cimarosa's 'Matrimonio.' Such repetitions answered their purpose at the moment, but while thus extemporising his operas Rossini forgot that a day would arrive when they would all be published, and when such discoveries as those we have mentioned, and as the existence of the principal motif of the duet of the letter in 'Otello' in the Agitato of an air from 'Torvaldo e Dorliska,' would inevitably be made. As he himself confessed in a letter about this time, he thought he had a perfect right to rescue any of his earlier airs from operas which had either failed at the time or become forgotten since. Whatever force there may be in this defence, the fact remains that 'Cenerentola' and the 'Barber' share between them the glory of being Rossini's chefs d'œuvre in comic opera.

From Rome he went to Milan, to enjoy the triumph of the 'Gazza ladra,' libretto by Gherardini which was brought out in the spring of 1817 at the Scala. The dignified martial character of the overture, and the prodigious rolls of the drum, produced an immense effect; and the same may be said of all the numbers which are concerned with strong emotion:—give the public a strong impression, and it will not stop to discriminate. Nor did the Milanese, at these early representations, find any difference between the really fine parts of the opera and those which are mere remplissage—of which the 'Gazza ladra' has several. Nor would any one have noticed, even had they had the necessary knowledge, that in the first duet and the finale—as was the case also in the finale to the 'Cenerentola'—Rossini had borrowed an effect from the Poco adagio of Mozart's Symphony in C (Köchel, 425) by maintaining a sustained accompaniment in the wind while the strings and the voices carry on the ideas and the ornaments.

From Milan he returned to Naples, and produced 'Armida' during the autumn season, a grand opera in 3 acts, with ballet, which was mounted with great splendour, and enjoyed the advantage of very good singers. The duet 'Amor, possente Nume!'—which was soon to be sung though the length and breadth of Italy, the air 'Non soffiro l'offensa,' the incantation scene, the chorus of demons, and the airs de ballet, would alone have been sufficient to excite the Neapolitans; but these were not the only pieces applauded, and the remarkable trio 'In quale aspetto imbelle,' written for three tenors with extraordinary ease, a pretty chorus of women 'Qui tutto è calma,' and a scena with chorus, 'Germane a te richiede'—afterwards employed in the French version of 'Moïse' all deserve mention.

This fine work had hardly made its appearance before Rossini had to dash off two more—'Adelaide di Borgogna,' sometimes known[4] as 'Ottone Rè d'Italia,' and an oratorio 'Mosè in Egitto.' 'Adelaide' was produced at the Argentina at Rome, in the Carnival of 1818, was well sung and warmly received. 'Mosè' was written for the San Carlo at Naples, and brought out there in Lent with an excellent cast—Isabella Colbran, Benedetti, Porto, and Nozzari. Here for the first time Rossini was so much pressed as to be compelled to call in assistance, and employed his old and tried friend Carafa in the recitatives and in Pharaoh's[5] air 'Aspettar mi.' The scene of the darkness was another step onwards, and the whole work was much applauded, with the exception of the passage of the Red Sea, the representation of which was always laughed at, owing to the imperfection of the theatrical appliances already spoken of. At the resumption of the piece, therefore, in the following Lent, Rossini added a chorus to divert attention from the wretched attempt to represent the dividing waves, and it is to the sins of the Neapolitan stage machinists that we owe the universally popular prayer 'Dal tuo stellato soglio,' which is not only in itself a most important piece of music, but shows the value which Rossini attached to the rest of the work, which is indeed one of his very finest.

As some relaxation after this serious effort he undertook, in the summer of 1818, a one-act piece, 'Adina, o il Califfo di Bagdad,' for the San Carlos Theatre, Lisbon; and immediately after, 'Ricciardo e Zoraide' for San Carlo, Naples, which was sung to perfection at the autumn season there by Isabella Colbran, Pisaroni (whose excessive plainness was no bar to her splendid singing), Nozzari, Davide, and Cicimarra. Davide's air, the trio, the duet for the two women, and that of the two tenors, were all applauded to the echo.

'Ricciardo' was extraordinarily full of ornament, but 'Ermione,' which was produced at San Carlo in the Lent of 1819, went quite in the opposite direction, and affected an unusual plainness and severity. The result showed that this was a mistake. Though splendidly sung, 'Ermione' was not so fortunate as to please, and the single number applauded was the one air in which there was any ornamentation. So much for the taste of Naples in 1819! An equally poor reception was given to a cantata written for the re-establishment of the health of the King of Naples, and sung at the San Carlo Feb. 20, 1819. It consisted of a cavatina for Isabella Colbran, and an air with variations, which was afterwards utilised in the ballet of the 'Viaggio a Reims.' The piece was hastily thrown off, and was probably of no more value in the eyes of its author than was an opera called 'Eduardo e Cristina' which was brought out at the San Benedetto, Venice, this same spring, and was in reality a mere pasticcio of pieces from 'Ermione,' ​'Ricciardo,' and other operas, hitherto unheard in Venice, attached to a libretto imitated from Scribe. Fortunately the opera pleased the audience, and sent Rossini back to Naples in good spirits, ready to compose a new cantata for the visit of the Emperor of Austria. The new work was performed on May 9, 1819, at the San Carlo, and was sung by Colbran, Davide, and Rubini, to the accompaniment of a military band. This Rossini probably accepted as a useful experience for his next new opera, the 'Donna del Lago,' in the march of which we hear the results of his experiments in writing for a wind band. The title of the new work seems to show that Scott's works were becoming popular even in Italy.[6] Rossini at any rate was not insensible to their beauties; and in his allusions to the landscape of the lake, and the cavatina 'O mattutini albori' seems to invite attention to bis use of local colour. Even at the present day the first act of the opera is well worthy of admiration, and yet the evening of Monday, Oct. 4, 1819, when it was first given, with the magnificent cast of Colbran, Pisaroni, Nozzari, Da vide, and Benedetti, was simply one long torture of disappointment to the composer, who was possibly not aware that the storm of disapprobation was directed not against him so much as against Barbaja the manager, and Colbran his favourite. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas.

On the following evening the hisses became bravos, but of this Rossini knew nothing, as by that time he was on his road to Milan. The Scala opened on Dec. 26, 1819, for the Carnival season with 'Bianca e Faliero,' libretto by Romani, which was admirably sung by Camporesi and others. No trace of it, however, now remains except the fine duet and equally good quartet, which were afterwards introduced in the 'Donna del Lago,' and became very popular at concerts.

His engagement at Milan over, he hurried back to Naples, to produce the opera of 'Maometto secondo,' before the close of the Carnival. It had been composed in great haste, but was admirably interpreted by Colbran, Chaumel (afterwards Madame Rubini), Nozzari, Cicimarra, Benedetti, and F. Galli, whose Maometto was a splendid success. It was the last opera but one that Rossini was destined to give at Naples before the burst of the storm[7] of the 20th July, 1820, which obliged the King to abandon his capital, ruined Barbaja by depriving him at once of a powerful patron and of the monopoly of the gambling -houses, and drove Rossini to make important changes in his life. But to return. Having for the moment no engagement for the Scala, he undertook to write 'Mathilde di [8]Shabran' for Rome. Torlonia the banker had bought the Teatro Tordinone, and was converting it into the Apollo; and it was for the inauguration of this splendid new house that Rossini's opera was intended. The opening took place on the first night of the Carnival of 1821. The company, though large, contained no first-rate artists, and Rossini was therefore especially careful of the ensemble pieces. The first night was stormy, but Rossini's friends were in the ascendancy, Paganini conducted in splendid style, and the result was a distinct success.

On his return to Naples, Rossini learned from Barbaja his intention of visiting Austria, and taking his company of singers to Vienna. Rossini's next opera, 'Zelmira,' was therefore to be submitted to a more critical audience than those of Italy, and with this in view he applied himself to make the recitatives interesting, the harmonies full and varied, and the accompaniments expressive and full of colour, and to throw as much variety as possible into the form of the movements. He produced the opera at the San Carlo before leaving, in the middle of December 1821. It was sung by Colbran, Cecconi, Davide, Nozzari, Ambrosi and Benedetti, and was enthusiastically received. On the 27th of the same month, he took his benefit, for which he had composed a special cantata entitled 'La Riconoscenza'; and the day after left for the North. He was accompanied by Isabella Colbran, with whom he had been in love for years, whose influence over him had been so great as to make him forsake comedy for tragedy, and to whom he was married on his arrival at Bologna. The wedding took place in the chapel of the Archbishop's palace, and was celebrated by Cardinal Opizzoni. Rossini has been accused of marrying for money, and it is certain that Colbran had a villa and £500 a year of her own, that she was seven years older than her husband, and that her reputation as a singer was on the decline.

However this may be, the two Rossinis, after a month's holiday, started for Vienna, where they arrived about the end of February, 1822. He seems to have made his début before the Vienna public on the 30th of March, as the conductor of his 'Cenerentola,' in the German version, as 'Aschenbrödel,' and his tempi were found somewhat too fast for the 'heavy German language.' 'Zelmira' was given at the Kärnthnerthor opera-house on April 13, with a success equal to that which it obtained at Naples. The company was the same, excepting Cecconi and Benedetti, who were replaced by Mlle. Ekerlin and Botticelli. An air was added for the former to words furnished by Carpani, who was thus secured as an enthusiastic partisan of the Italian composer. Rossini was not without violent opponents in Vienna, but they gave him no anxiety, friends and enemies alike were received with a smile, and his only retort was a good-humoured joke. He is said to have visited Beethoven, and to have been much distressed by the condition in which he found the great master. The impression which he made on the Viennese may be gathered from a paragraph in the Leipzig 'Allgemeine musik Zeitung'[9] of the day, in which he is described as 'highly accomplished, of agreeable manners and pleasant appearance, full of wit and fun, cheerful, obliging, courteous, and most accessible. He is ​much in society, and charms every one by his simple unassuming style.' After the close of the Vienna season, the Rossinis returned to Bologna, where his parents had resided since 1798. There, at the end of September, he received a nattering letter from Prince Metternich, entreating him to come to Verona, and 'assist in the general re-establishment of harmony.' Such invitations, so couched, are not to be refused, and accordingly the chief composer of Italy yielded to the request of the chief diplomatist of Austria, and arrived at the Congress in time for its opening, Oct. 20, 1822. Rossini's contribution to the Congress was a series of cantatas, which he poured forth without stint or difficulty. The best-known of these is 'Il vero Omaggio'; others are 'L'Augurio felice,' 'La sacra Alleanza,' and 'Il Bardo.' One was performed in the Amphitheatre, which will accommodate 50,000 spectators, and was conducted by Rossini himself. Work, however, never seems to have prevented his going into society, and we find that during this occasion he acquired the friendship not only of Metternich, but of Chateaubriand and Madame de Liéven.

The Congress at an end he began to work at 'Semiramide,' which was brought out at the Fenice, Venice, Feb. 3, 1823, with Madame Rossini, the two Marianis, Galli, and Sinclair the English tenor, for whom there were two airs. The opera was probably written with more care tiian any of those which had preceded it; and possibly for this very reason was somewhat coldly received. The subject no doubt would seem sombre to the gay Venetians, and they even omitted to applaud the fine quartet (which Verdi must surely have had in his mind when writing the Miserere in the 'Trovatore'), the finale, and the appearance of Ninus, the final trio, at once so short and so dramatic, the cavatina with chorus, and all the other new, bold, bright passages of that remarkable work. Rossini was not unnaturally much disappointed at the result of his labour and genius, and resolved to write no more for the theatres of his native country. The resolution was hardly formed when he received a visit from the manager of the King's Theatre, London (Sigr. Benelli), and a proposal to write an opera for that house, to be called 'La Figlia dell' aria,' for the sum of £240—£40 more than he had received for 'Semiramide,' a sum at the time considered enormous. The offer was promptly accepted, and the Rossinis started for England without delay, naturally taking Paris in their road, and reaching it Nov. 9, 1823. Paris, like Vienna, was then divided into two hostile camps on the subject of the great composer. Berton always spoke of him as 'M. Crescendo,' and he was caricatured on the stage as 'M. Vacarmini'; but the immortal author of the 'Barbière' could afford to laugh at such satire, and his respectful behaviour to Cherubini, Lesueur, and Reicha, as the heads of the Conservatoire, his graceful reception of the leaders of the French School, his imperturbable good temper, and good spirits, soon conciliated every one. A serenade, a public banquet, triumphant receptions at the opera house, a special vaudeville ('Rossini à Paris, ou le Grand Dîner') everything in short that could soothe the pride of a stranger, was lavished upon him from the first. He in his turn was always kind and amiable, consenting for instance at the request of Panseron—an old colleague at Rome—to act as accompanyist at a concert with the object of saving Panseron's brother from the conscription. Under the hands of Rossini the piano became as effective as an orchestra; and it is on record that the first tune that Auber heard him accompany himself in a song he walked up to the instrument and bent down over the keys to see if they were not smoking. Paris however was not at present his ultimate goal, and on Dec. 7, 1823, Rossini and his wife arrived in London. They were visited immediately by the Russian ambassador, M. de Liéven, who gave the composer barely time to recover from the fatigues of the journey before he carried him off to Brighton and presented him to the King. George IV. believed himself to be fond of music, and received the author of 'The Barber of Seville' in the most flattering manner. The royal favour naturally brought with it that of the aristocracy, and a solid result in the shape of two grand concerts at Almack's, at two guineas admission. The singers on these occasions were Mme. Rossini, Mme. Catalani, Mme. Pasta, and other first-rate artists, but the novelty, the attraction, was to hear Rossini himself sing the solos[10] in a cantata which he had composed for the occasion, under the title of 'Homage to Lord Byron.' He also took part with Catalani in a duet from Cimarosa's 'Matrimonio' which was so successful as to be encored three times. While the court and the town were thus disputing for the possession of Rossini, 'Zelmira' was brought out at the Opera (Jan. 24, 1824); but the manager was unable to finish the season, and became bankrupt before discharging his engagements with Rossini. Nor was this all. Not only did he not produce the 'Figlia dell' aria,' but the music of the first act unaccountably vanished, and has never since been found. It was in vain for Rossini to sue the manager; he failed to obtain either his MS. or a single penny of the advantages guaranteed to him by the contract. True, he enjoyed a considerable set-off to the loss just mentioned in the profits of the countless soirées at which he acted as accompanyist at a fee of £50. At the end of five months he found himself in possession of £7000; and just before his departure was honoured by receiving the marked compliments of the king at a concert at the Duke of Wellington's, for which His Majesty had expressly come up from Brighton.

In leaving England after so hearty and profitable a reception, Rossini was not taking a leap in the dark; for through the Prince de Polignac, French ambassador in England, he had already concluded an agreement for the ​musical direction of the Théâtre Italian, Paris, for eighteen months at a salary of £800 per annum. In order to be near his work he took a lodging at No. 28 Rue Taitbout, and at once set about making a radical reform in the ages of the singers in his company. Knowing that Paer was his enemy, and would take any opportunity of injuring him, he was careful to retain him in his old post of maestro al Cembalo; but at the same time he engaged Hérold (then a young man of 25) as chorus-master, and as a check on the pretensions of Madame Pasta he brought to Paris Esther Mombelli, Schiassetti, Donzelli, and Rubini, successively. To those who sneered at his music he replied by playing it as it was written, and by bringing out some of his operas which had not yet made their appearance in Paris, such as 'La Donna del Lago' (Sept. 7, 1824), 'Semiramide' (Dec. 8, 1825), and 'Zelmira' (Mar. 14, 1826). And he gave much éclat to his direction by introducing Meyerbeer's 'Crociato'—the first work of Meyerbeer's heard in Paris—and by composing a new opera, 'Il Viaggio a Reims, ossia l'Albergo del giglio d'oro,' which he produced on June 19, 1825, during the fetes at the coronation of Charles X. The new work is in one act, and three parts; it is written for 14 voices, which are treated with marvellous art. It was sung by Mmes. Pasta, Schiassetti, Mombelli, Cinti, Amigo, Dotti, and Rossi; and by MM. Levasseur, Zucchelli, Pellegrini, Graziani, Auletta, Donzelli, Bordogni, and Scudo—a truly magnificent assemblage. In the ballet he introduced an air with variations for two clarinets, borrowed from his Naples cantata of 1819, and played by Gambaro (a passionate admirer of his) and by F. Berr. In the hunting scene he brought in a delicious fanfare of horns, and the piece winds up with 'God save the King,' 'Vive Henri quatre,' and other national airs, all newly harmonised and accompanied.

The King's taste was more in the direction of hunting than of music, and the result was that the 'Viaggio' was only given two or three times; but it had been a work of love with Rossini, and we shall presently see how much he valued it. Meantime we may mention that after the Revolution of 1848 the words were suitably modified by H. Dupin, and the piece appeared in two acts at the Théâtre Italien as 'Andremo noi a Parigi,' on Oct. 26 of that year.[11]

After the expiration of Rossini's agreement as director of the Théâtre Italien, it was a happy idea of the Intendant of the Civil List to confer upon him the sinecure posts of 'Premier Compositeur du Roi' and 'Inspecteur Général du Chant en France,' with an annual income of 20,000 francs, possibly in the hope that he might settle permanently at Paris, and in time write operas expressly for the French stage. This was also an act of justice, since in the then absence of any law of international [12]copyright his pieces were public property, and at the disposal not only of a translator like Castil-Blaze, but of any manager or publisher in the length and breadth of France who chose to avail himself of them. Fortunately the step was justified by the event. The opera of 'Maometto'—originally written by the Duke of Ventagnano, and produced at Naples in 1820—had never been heard in France. Rossini employed MM. Soumet and Balocchi to give the libretto a French dress; he revised the music, and considerably extended it; and on Oct. 9, 1826, the opera was produced at the Académie as 'Le Siége de Corinthe,' with a cast which included Nourrit and Mlle. Cinti, and with great success. The new opera (for which Rossini received 6,000 francs from Troupenas) was written at No. 10, Boulevard Montmartre, a five-storied house which contained the residences of Boieldieu and Carafa, and was the birthplace of 'La Dame Blanche,' 'Masaniello,' and 'Guillaume Tell.' It has since been destroyed in constructing the Passage Jouffroy.

After this feat Rossini turned to another of his earlier works, as not only sure of success but eminently suited to the vast space and splendid mise en scéne of the Grand Opera. This was 'Mosè.' He put the revision of the libretto into the hands of Etienne Jouy and Balocchi, and settled the cast as follows:—Anaï, Mlle. Cinti with a new air (4th act); Sinaïde, Mme. Dabadie; Marie, Mlle. Mori; Aménophis, A. Nourrit; Moïse, Levasseur; Pharaon, Dabadie; Eliezer, Alexis. 'Moïse' was produced March 27, 1827, and created a profound impression. True, it had been heard in its original form at the Italiens five years before, but the recollection of this only served to bring out more strongly the many improvements and additions in the new version—such as the Introduction to the 1st act; the quartet and chorus; the chorus 'La douce Aurore'; the march and chorus, etc. The fine finale to the 3rd act, an English critic has pronounced to have no rival but the finale to Beethoven's C minor Symphony. The airs de ballet were largely borrowed from 'Armida' (1817) and 'Giro in Babilonia' (1812). This magnificent work gave Rossini a sort of imperial position in Paris. But it was necessary to justify this, and he therefore resolved to try a work of a different character, and according to the axiom of Boileau, to pass

From grave to gay, from lively to severe—

not in the direction of comic but of lyric opera. With this view he employed Scribe and Poirson to develope a vaudeville which they had written in 1816 to the old legend of 'Le Comte Ory,' adapting to that lively piece some of his favourite music in the 'Viaggio a Reims,'—the introduction and finale of the 1st act, the duet of the Count and Countess, and the famous narrative of Raimbaut when he brings up the ​wine from the cellar, which it is difficult to believe was in its first form applied to the taking of the Trocadéro! Adolphe Nourrit, who was not only a great artist, but a poet of very considerable dramatic power, was privately of much assistance to Rossini in the adaptation of his old music to the new words, and in the actual mounting of the piece in which he was to take so important a share. 'Le Comte Ory' was produced at the Académie, Aug. 20, 1828, and the principal characters were taken by Mme. Damoreau-Cinti, Mlles. Jawurek and Mori, Adolphe Nourrit, Levasseur, and Dabadie. The Introduction—in place of an Overture proper—is based on the old song which gives its name to the piece. In the second act, the grace and charm of the melodies more than atone for the very doubtful incidents of the libretto; and this was the most successful portion of the work. 'Charming!' 'Divine!' are the usual comments on its performance; but no one seems yet to have noticed that the most delicious passage of the drinking chorus ('C'est charmant! c'est divin!') is borrowed from the Allegretto scherzando of Beethoven's 8th Symphony. Rossini was at that time actually engaged with Habeneck, the founder of the Concerts of the Conservatoire, and his intimate friend, in studying the Symphonies of Beethoven; and it is easy to understand how impossible it must have been to forget the fresh and graceful movement referred to, in the termination of which many have indeed recognised a distinct allusion to Rossini himself.

The study of Beethoven was at any rate not a bad preparation for the very serious piece of work which was next to engage him, and for a great portion of which he retired to the château of his friend Aguado the banker at Petit-Bourg. Schiller had recently been brought into notice in France by the translation of M. de Barante; and Rossini, partly attracted by the grandeur of the subject, partly inspired by the liberal ideas at that moment floating through Europe, especially from the direction of [13]Greece, was induced to choose the Liberator of the Swiss Cantons as his next subject. He accepted a libretto offered him by Etienne Jouy, Spontini's old librettist, who in this case was associated with Hippolyte Bis. Their words, however, were so unmusical and unrhythmical, that Rossini had recourse to Armand Marrast, at that time Aguado's secretary, and the whole scene of the meeting of the conspirators—one of the best in operatic literature, and the only thoroughly satisfactory part of 'Guillaume Tell'—was rewritten by him, a fact which we are glad to make public in these pages.

This grand opera, undoubtedly Rossini's masterpiece, was produced at the Académie on Aug. 3, 1829, with the following cast:—Arnold, Nourrit; Walter Fürst, Levasseur; Tell, Dabadie; Ruodi, A.Dupont; Rodolphe, Massol; Gessler, Prévost; Leutold, Prévôt; Mathilde, Damoreau-Cinti; Jemmy, Dabadie; Hedwige, Mori.

'Tell' has now become a study for the musician, from the first bar of the overture to the storm scene and the final hymn of freedom. The overture is no longer, like Rossini's former ones, a piece of work on a familiar, well-worn pattern, but a true instrumental prelude, which would be simply perfect if the opening and the fiery peroration were only as appropriate to the subject as they are tempting to the executant. We find no absurdities like those in 'Moïse'—no song of thanksgiving accompanied by a brilliant polonaise, no more cabalettas, no more commonplace phrases or worn-out modulations,—in short, no more padding of any kind. True, it would not be difficult to criticise the length of the duet in the 2nd act, which recalls the duet in 'Semiramide,' and breathes rather the concert-room than the stage—or the style of the finale of the 3rd act, which is not appropriate to the situation. But in place of thus searching for spots on the sun we prefer to bask in his radiance and enjoy his beneficent warmth.

The spectacle of a great master at the zenith of his glory and in the very prime of life thus breaking with all the traditions of his genius and appearing as in a second avatar is indeed a rare and noble one. The sacrifice of all the means of effect by which his early popularity had been obtained is one which Rossini shares with Gluck and Weber, but which our former experience of his character would hardly have prepared us for. He seems at length to have discovered how antagonistic such effects were to the simplicity which was really at the base of the great musical revolution effected by him; but to discover, and to act on a discovery, are two different things, and he ought to have full credit for the courage and sincerity with which, at his age, he forsook the flowery plains in which his genius had formerly revelled, for loftier and less accessible heights.

But though deserting, as he does in 'Tell,' the realm of pure sensation, and discarding the voluptuous music of his early operas, Rossini remains still the fresh and copious melodist that he always was. In fact, he is more. The strains in which he has depicted the Alps and their pastoral inhabitants are fresher, more graceful, more happy than ever; the notes which convey the distress of the agonised father; the enthusiastic expression of the heroes of Switzerland; the harrowing phrases which convey the anguish of a son renouncing all that he holds most dear; the astonishing variety of the colours in which the conspiracy is painted; the lofty strains of the purest patriotism; the grandeur of the outlines; the severity of the style; the coexistence of so much variety with such admirable unity; the truly Olympian dignity which reigns throughout—all surpass in their different qualities anything that he ever accomplished before. But what might not be expected from a composer who at thirty-seven had thus voluntarily submitted himself to the severity of ​French taste, and was bent on repaying our hospitality with so magnificent a masterpiece?

But the career thus splendidly inaugurated was not destined to be pursued; circumstances, political and domestic, stopped him on the threshold. He was anxious to visit once more the city in which his beloved mother died in 1827, and where his father, who had soon tired of Paris, was awaiting him. With this view he resigned his office as inspector of singing in Prance, and made an arrangement with the Government of Charles X., dating from the beginning of 1829, by which he bound himself for ten years to compose for no other stage but that of France, and to write and bring out an opera every two years, receiving for each such opera the sum of 15,000 francs. In the event of the Government failing to carry out the arrangement he was to receive a retiring pension of 6000 francs. 'Guillaume Tell' was thus to be the first of a series of five operas.

After a serenade from the opera orchestra, Rossini, therefore, left Paris for Bologna. Here he was engaged in considering the subject of 'Faust,' with a view to his next work, when he received the sudden news of the abdication of Charles X., and the revolution of July 1830. The blow shattered his plans and dissipated his fondest hopes. He flattered himself that he had regenerated the art of singing in France. What would become of it again under a king who could tolerate no operas but those of Grétry? Anxious to know if his friend Lubbert was still at the head of the Académie de Musique, and if the new Intendant of the Civil List would acknowledge the engagements of his predecessor, he returned to Paris in Nov. 1830; and intending only to make a short stay, took up his quarters in the upper storey of the Théâtre des Italiens, of which his friend Severini was then director. Here however he was destined to remain till Nov. 1836. The new government repudiated the agreement of its predecessor, and Rossini had to carry his claim into the law-courts. Had his law-suit alone occupied him, it would not have been necessary to stay quite so long, for it was decided in his favour in Dec. 1835. But there was another reason for his remaining in Paris, and that was his desire to hear 'The Huguenots,' and ascertain how far Meyerbeer's star was likely to eclipse his own. It is impossible to believe that a mere money question could have detained him so long at a time when almost every day must have brought fresh annoyances. After reducing 'Guillaume Tell' from five acts to three, they carried their love of compression so far as to give only one act at a time, as a lever de rideau, or accompaniment to the ballet. This was indeed adding insult to injury. 'I hope you won't be annoyed,' said the Director of the Opera to him one day on the boulevard, 'but to-night we play the second act of Tell.' 'The whole of it?' was the reply. How much bitter disappointment must have been hidden under that reply! During the whole of this unhappy interval he only once resumed his pen, namely in 1832 for the 'Stabat Mater,' at the request of his friend Aguado, who was anxious to serve the Spanish minister Señor Valera. He composed at that time only the first six numbers, and the other four were supplied by Tadolini. The work was dedicated to Valera, with an express stipulation that it should never leave his hands. In 1834 he allowed Troupenas to publish the 'Soirées musicales,' 12 lovely vocal pieces of very original form and harmony, several of which have still retained their charm.

The rehearsals of the Huguenots lingered on, and it was not till Feb. 29, 1836, that Rossini could hear the work of his new rival. He returned to Bologna shortly after, taking Frankfort in his way, and meeting Mendelssohn.[14] He had not been long in Bologna before he heard of the prodigious success of Duprez in the revival of 'Guillaume Tell' (April 17). Such a triumph might well have nerved him to fresh exertions. But it came a year too late; he had already taken an unfortunate and irrevocable resolution never again to break silence. It would be very wrong to conclude from this that he had lost his interest in music. The care which he bestowed on the Liceo of Bologna, of which he was honorary director, show that the art still exercised all its claims on him. He was especially anxious to improve the singing of the pupils, and among; those who are indebted to his care, Marietta Alboni holds the first rank.

Rossini's father died April 29, 1839, and he soon afterwards learned to his disgust that the MS. of the Stabat had been sold by the heirs of Señor Valera, and acquired by a Paris publisher for 2000 francs. He at once gave Troupenas full power to stop both publication and performance, and at the same time completed the work by composing the last four movements, which, as we have already said, were originally added by Tadolini. The first six movements were produced at the Salle Herz, Paris, Oct. 31, 1841, amidst very great applause. Troupenas bought the entire score for 6000 francs.[15] He sold the right of performance in Paris during three months to the Escudiers for 8000, which they again disposed of to the director of the Théâtre Italien for 20,000. Thus three persons were enriched by this single work. It was performed complete for the first time at the Salle Ventadour, Jan. 7, 1842, by Grisi, Albertazzi, Mario and Tamburini.

Notwithstanding its brilliant success, some critics were found to accuse the composer of importing the strains of the theatre into the church; but it must not be forgotten that religion in the South is a very different thing from what it is in the North. Mysticism could have no place in the mind of the man who had revived and immortalised the legend of Comte Ory. Such a man will naturally utter his prayers aloud, in the sunshine of noon, rather than breathe them to himself in the gloom and mystery of night. The ​prayer and the scene of the darkness in 'Moïse,' as well as the first movement and the unaccompanied quartet in the Stabat, will always hold their place as religious music; and are oF themselves sufficient to show that Rossini, sceptic as he was, was not without religious feeling.

But no triumphs from without or gratifications from within can shield us from physical ills. At the very moment that the Stabat was making its triumphant progress round the world, Rossini began to suffer tortures from the stone, which increased to such an extent as to force him in May 1843, to Paris, where he underwent an operation which proved perfectly satisfactory. We next find him writing a chorus to words by Marchetti for the anniversary festival of Tasso at Turin, on March 13, 1844. On the 2nd of the following September 'Othello' was produced in French at the Académie with Duprez, Barroilhet, Levasseur, and Mme. Stoltz. Rossini however had nothing to do with this adaptation, and the divertissement was arranged entirely by Benoist from airs in 'Mathilde de Sabran' and 'Armida.' Two interpolations in the body of the piece—the cavatina from 'L'Italiana in Algeri' in the part of Desdemona, and an air from the 'Donna del Lago' in that of Iago—were neither appropriate nor satisfactory. While 'Othello' was thus on the boards of the opera, Troupenas brought out 'La Foi, l'Espérance et la Charité' (Faith, Hope, and Charity), three choruses for women's voices, the two first composed many years previously for an opera on the subject of Œdipus [App. p.776 "add that the three choruses for female voices here referred to are stated by Mr. Louis Engel to be spurious. In his 'From Mozart to Mario' he says that the composer denied their authenticity"]. These choruses are hardly worthy of Rossini. They justify Berlioz's sarcasm—'his Hope has deceived ours; his Faith will never remove mountains; his Charity will never ruin him.' Troupenas also brought out a few songs hitherto unpublished, and these reattracted the attention of the public in some degree to the great composer. His statue was executed in marble[16] by Etex, and was inaugurated at the Acadeémie de Musique, June 9, 1846. A few months later (Dec. 30), by his permission, a pasticcio adapted by Niedermeyer to portions of the 'Donna del Lago,' 'Zelmira,' and 'Arrnida,' and entitled 'Robert Bruce,' was put on the stage of the Opera, but it was not successful, and Mme. Stoltz was even hissed. From his seclusion at Bologna Rossini kept a watchful eye upon the movements of the musical world. It would be interesting to know if he regretted having authorised the manufacture of this pasticcio. If we may judge from the very great difficulty with which some time later Méry obtained his permission to translate 'Semiramide' and produce it on the French stage (July 9, 1860), he did. It is certain that during his long residence at Bologna he only broke his vow of silence for the 'Inno popolare a Pio IX.' The commencement of this was adapted to an air from 'La Donna del Lago,' and its peroration was borrowed from 'Robert Bruce,' which gives ground for supposing that he himself was concerned in the arrangement of that opera, and explains his annoyance at its failure.

The political disturbances which agitated the Romagna at the end of 1847 compelled Rossini to leave Bologna. He quitted the town in much irritation. His turn for speculation, and his farming the fisheries, in order, as he said, that he might always have fresh fish, had given much offence. After the death of his wife (Oct. 7, 1845), he married (in 1847) Olympe Pelissier, with whom he had become connected in Paris at a time when she was greatly in public favour, and when she sat to Vernet for his picture of Judith and Holofernes. In fact at this time the great musician had to a great extent disappeared in the voluptuary. From Bologna he removed to Florence, and there it was that this writer visited him in 1852. He lived in the Via Larga, in a house which bore upon its front the words Ad votum. In the course of a long conversation he spoke of his works with no pretended indifference, but as being well aware of their worth, and knowing the force and scope of his genius better than any one else. He made no secret of his dislike to the violent antivocal element in modern music, or of the pleasure he would feel when 'the Jews had finished their Sabbath.' It was also evident that he had no affection for the capital of Tuscany, the climate of which did not suit him.

At length, in 1855, he crossed the Alps and returned to Paris, never again to leave it. His reception there went far to calm the nervous irritability that had tormented him at Florence, and with the homage which he received from Auber and the rest of the French artists his health returned. His house, No. 2 in the Rue Chaussée d'Antin, and at a later date his villa at Passy, were crowded by the most illustrious representatives of literature and art, to such an extent that even during his lifetime he seemed to assist at his own apotheosis. Was it then mere idleness which made him thus bury himself in the Capua of his past successes? No one who, like the present writer, observed him coolly, could be taken in by the comedy of indifference and modesty that it pleased him to keep up. We have already said that, after Meyerbeer's great success, Rossini had taken the resolution of writing no more for the Académie de Musique and keeping silence.

The latter part of this resolution he did not however fully maintain. Thus he authorised the production of 'Bruschino' at the Bouffes Parisiens on Dec. 28, 1857, though he would not be present at the first representation. 'I have given my permission,' said he, 'but do not ask me to be an accomplice.' The discovery of the piece—which is nothing else but his early farce of 'Il figlio per azzardo' (Venice, 1813) was due to Prince Poniatowski, and some clever Librettist was found to adapt it to the French taste. A year or two later Méry with difficulty obtained his permission to transform 'Semiramide' into 'Sémiramis,' and the opera in its new garb was produced at the Académie July 9, 1860, with Carlotta Marchisio as Semiramis, ​her sister Barbara as Arsace, and Obin as Assur. In this transformation Rossini took no ostensible part. Carafa at his request arranged the recitatives, and wrote the ballet music. These were mere revivals. Not so the sacred work which he brought out at the house of M. Pillet-Will the banker on March 14, 1864, and at the rehearsals of which he presided in person. We allude to the 'Petite messe solennelle,' which though so called with a touch of Rossini an pleasantry is a mass of full dimensions, lasting nearly two hours in performance. Rossini had always been on good terms with the bankers of Paris, and after Rothschild and Aguado he became very intimate with the Count Pillet-Will (1781–1860), a rich amateur, passionately fond of music, who had learned the violin from Baillot, and amused himself with composing little pieces for that instrument. His son, more retiring but not less enthusiastic than his father, had always been one of Rossini's most devoted admirers, and on the occasion of the inauguration of his magnificent house in the Rue Moncey, it was a happy thought of the composer to allow his 'Petite messe solennelle' to be heard there for the first time. This important composition, comprising solos and choruses, was written with the accompaniment of a harmonium and two pianos. On this occasion it was sung by the two Marchisios, Gardoni, and Agnesi, and was much applauded; the Sanctus and Agnus were re-demanded, the chorus portions of the Credo were much admired, and the fluent style of the fugued passages in the Gloria—perhaps the best portion of the work—was a theme of general remark. Rossini afterwards scored it with slight alterations for the full orchestra—perhaps a little heavily—and in this shape it was performed for the first time in public at the Théâtre Italien, on the evening of Sunday Feb. 28, 1869, on the 78th birthday of the composer, as nearly as that could be, seeing that he was born in a leap year, on Feb. 29.

In the last years of his life Rossini affected the piano, spoke of himself as a fourth-rate pianist, and composed little else but pianoforte pieces. Most of these were in some sense or other jeux d'esprit; some were inscribed to his parrot, or had the most fanciful titles—'Valse anti-dansante,' 'Fausse couche de Polka-mazurka,' 'Etude asthmatique,' 'Echantillon de blague,' etc. The whole were arranged in cases with such quaint names as 'Album olla podrida,' 'Les quatre[17] mendiants,' 'Quatre hors-d'oeuvre,' Album de Château,' 'Album de Chaumière,' etc. For the Exposition universelle of 1867, however, he wrote a Cantata, which was performed for the first time at the ceremony of awarding the prizes on July 1, and was also executed at the opera at the free performances on August 15, 1867 and 68. It opens with a hymn in a broad style, in which the author of 'Sémiramis' and 'Moïse' is quite recognisable, but winds up with a vulgar quick-step on a motif not unlike the country dance known as 'L' Ostendaise.' The title, which we give from the autograph, seems to show that the son of the jolly 'trombadore' of Pesaro was quite aware of the character of the finale of his last work.

À Napoléon III
et
à son vaillant Peuple.

Hymne
avec accompagnement d'orchestre et musique militaire
pour baryton (solo), un Pontife,
chœur de Grands Prêtres
chœur de Vivandières, de Soldats, et de Peuple.
A la fin
Danse, Cloches, Tambours et Canons.
Excusez du peu!!

The final touch is quite enough to show that Rossini to the last had more gaiety than propriety, more wit than dignity, more love of independence than good taste. He preferred the society of artists to any other, and was never so happy as when giving free scope to his caustic wit or his Rabelaisian humour. His bons mots were abundant, and it is surprising that no one has yet attempted to collect them. It is a task which we commend to M. Joseph Vivier, the eminent horn-player, himself a master of the art, and formerly one of the liveliest and most intimate of the circle at Passy. One or two may find place here. When that charming actress Mme. Arnould Plessy met Rossini for the first time she was a little embarrassed at not knowing exactly how to address him. 'To call you Monsieur would be absurd, and unfortunately I have no right to call you my master.' 'Call me,' said he, 'mon petit lapin.' One day, in a fit of the spleen, he cried out, 'I am miserable; my nerves are wrong, and every one offers me string instead.' D'Ortigue, the author of the Dictionary of Church Music, had been very severe on him in an article in the 'Correspondant' entitled 'Musical royalties,' and an enthusiastic admirer of the Italian School having replied somewhat angrily, Rossini wrote to him, 'I am much obliged to you for your vigorous treatment (lavement) of the tonsure of my friend the Curé d'Ortigue.' A number of friends were disputing as to which was his best opera, and appealed to him:—'You want to know which of my works I like best? Don Giovanni!' He took extreme delight in his summer villa at Passy, which stood in the avenue Ingres, and had a fine garden of about three acres attached to it. Here he was abundantly accessible to every one who had any claims on his notice, and the younger and gayer his visitors the more he seemed to enjoy them. More than one young English musician has cause to remember the charming familiarity of the great composer with his 'jeune confrère.' In that house he died on Friday Nov. 13, 1868, at 9 p.m. after a long day of agony. His funeral was magnificent. As Foreign Associate of the Institute (1833); Grand Officer of the Legion of Honour (1864), and the orders of St. Maurice and St. Lazare; commander of many foreign ​orders, and honorary member of a great number of Academies and musical institutions—Rossini had a right to every posthumous honour possible. The funeral took place at the church of the Trinity on Saturday Nov. ai, 1868; it was gorgeous, and was attended by several deputations from Italy. Tamburini, Duprez, Gardoni, Bonnehée, Faure, Capoul, Belval, Obin, Delle Sedie, Jules Lefort, Agnesi, Alboni, Adelina Patti, Nilsson, Krauss, Carvalho, Bloch, and Grossi, with the pupils of the Conservatoire, sang the Prayer from 'Moïse.' Nilsson gave a fine movement from the 'Stabat' of Pergolesi, but the most impressive part of the ceremony was the singing of the 'Quis est homo' from Rossini's own 'Stabat mater' by Patti and Alboni. To hear that beautiful music rendered by two such voices, and in the presence of such artists, over the grave of the composer, was to feel in the truest sense the genius of Rossini, and the part which he has played in the music of the 19th century.

At the opening of his career Rossini had two courses before him, either, like Simone Mayer and Paer, to follow the footsteps of the old Neapolitan masters, or to endeavour to revolutionise the Italian opera, as Gluck and Mozart had revolutionised those of France and Germany. He chose the latter. We have described the eagerness with which he threw himself into the path of innovation and the audacity with which while borrowing a trait of harmony or of piquant modulation from Majo (1745–74) or the skeleton of an effect from Generali (1783–1832) he extinguished those from whom he stole, according to the well-known maxim of Voltaire. His great object at first was to carry his hearers away, and this he did by the crescendo and the cabaletta, two ready and successful methods. We have already mentioned his innovations in the accompaniment of the recitatives, first, in 'Elisabetta,' the full quartet of strings, and next in 'Otello' the occasional addition of the wind instruments. This was a great relief to the monotony of the old secco recitative. But his innovations did not stop there: he introduced into the orchestra generally a great deal more movement, variety, colour, combination, and (it must be allowed) noise, than any of his predecessors had done, though never so as to drown the voices. In Germany the orchestra was well understood before the end of the 18th century; and we must not forget that—not to speak of Mozart's operas, of Fidelio, or of Cherubini's masterpieces—before the production of the Barbiere (1816), eight of Beethoven's Symphonies were before the world. But in Italy instrumentation was half a century behind, and certainly none of Rossini's predecessors in that country ever attempted what he did in his best operas, as for instance in the finale to Semiramide (1823), where the employment of the four horns and the clarinets, and the astonishingly clever way in which the orchestra is handled generally, are quite strokes of genius. The horns are always favourites of his, and are most happily used throughout 'Guillaume Tell,' where we may point to the mixture of pizzicato and bowed notes in the Chorus of the 1st act, the harp and bell in the Chorus of the 2nd act, and other traits in the Conspiracy scene as marks of real genius, for the happy and picturesque effects produced by very simple means. Rossini had further, like all the great masters, a strong feeling for rhythm, as the most powerful of all aids to interest and success, and was fond of quick movements and of triple time.[18] But an excessive love of jewels is apt to lead to the use of sham diamonds, and his incessant pursuit of effect led him to excessive ornamentation, to noise, and to a passion for attractive forms rather than for the feeling which should lie at the root of them. Much of this, however, was atoned for in his early operas by his masterly way of writing for the voices, by the strength of his melody, the copious flow of his ideas, and the irresistible contagion of his good spirits, especially in comic opera. Having thus secured his position in public favour, his next step—a very legitimate one—was to satisfy the demands of his own taste and conscience. During this second period the subjects of his operas increase in interest. In 'Mosè' he deals with the religious sentiment. In the 'Donna del Lago' he rivals Walter Scott on his own field; and in 'Semiramide' he has recourse to oriental history in his endeavour to give an independent value to his drama. During this period his melodies drop some of their former voluptuous character, but in return are more pathetic and more full of colour, though still wanting in tenderness and depth.

Lastly, in his Paris operas, and especially in 'Guillaume Tell,' the influence of French taste makes itself strongly felt, and we find a clearness, a charm, a delicacy in the small details, a sense of proportion and of unity, a breadth of style, an attention to the necessities of the stage, and a dignity—which raise this epoch of his career far higher than either of the others.

Rossini's music, as we have already said, has been very differently estimated. Ingres, in whose view honesty in art held almost as high a place as genius or originality, has called it 'the music of a dishonest (malhonnête) man.' Berlioz would gladly have burnt it all, and Rossini's followers with it.[19] On the other hand, Schubert, though fully alive to his weaknesses, as his caricatures of Rossini's overtures show, and with every reason to dislike him from the fact that the Rossini furore kept Schubert's own works off the stage—contrasts his operas most favourably with the 'rubbish' which filled the Vienna theatres at that time, and calls him emphatically 'a rare genius.' 'His instrumentation,' he continues, 'is often extremely original, and so is the voice writing, ​nor can I find any fault with the music (of Otello) if I except the usual Italian gallopades and a few reminiscences of Tancredi.'[20] Mendelssohn too, as is well known, would allow no one to depreciate Rossini. Even Schumann, so intolerant of the Italian School, is enthusiastic over one of his operas, and calls it 'real, exhilarating, clever music.' Such exaggerations as those of Ingres and Berlioz are as bad as intentional injustice; it is better to recollect the very difficult circumstances which surrounded an Italian composer eighty years ago, and to endeavour to discover why music which was once so widely worshipped has now gone out of fashion. Is it the fault of his librettos? No doubt he would have been wiser to stick to comic subjects, like that of 'The Barber of Seville,' and to have confined himself for his librettos to the poets of his own family. Is it the elaborate ornamentation of much of his music? No doubt ornamented music decays sooner than that of a plainer style, and it is always dangerous, though tempting, to adopt the fashionable forms. But one main reason is to be found in the deterioration of the art of singing; the Paris opera can now boast neither 'ténor de force' nor 'ténor de grace'; and the recent revival of the 'Comte Ory' (Oct. 29, 1880) showed conclusively the mediocrity of the present singers at the Académie. In fact Rossini is now expiating his fault in having demanded too much from his singers.[21] Some feeling of remorse on this head seems to have prompted his efforts to improve the art of singing both in Paris and Bologna. Indeed so keenly alive was he to the tendencies which have degraded the stage since 1830, and so anxious to further the love of fresh melody and the prosecution of sound musical study, that he bequeathed to the Institute an annual sum of 6000 francs (£240) for a competition both in dramatic poetry and composition, specifying particularly that the object of the prize should be to encourage composers with a turn for melody. The prize was given on the first occasion to M. Paul Collin, author of the libretto of the 'Daughter of Jairus,' and to the Countess [App. p.776 "Baroness" de Grandval, a distinguished musician, but hardly a remarkable melodist. The greater part of his property Rossini devoted to the foundation and endowment of a Conservatoire of Music at his native town, Pesaro, of which A. Bazzini has just (June 1881) been appointed Director.

In order to complete this sketch it is necessary to give as complete a list as possible of his works. N.B. In the column after the names, (1) signifies that the score has been engraved; (2) that it is published for voices and piano; (3) that it is still in manuscript.

I. OPERAS.

Title. 1=Full Score
2=PF. do.
3=MS.		 First
representation.		 First
performance
in London
at King's
Theatre.
Adelaide di Borgogna, or Ottone Rè d'Italia — 2, 3 Rome, Car. 1818
Adina (farsa) — 2, 3 Lisbon, 1818
Armida — 2, 3 Naples, Aut. 1817
Assedio di Corinto, L' — 2, 3 Milan, Dec. 26, 1828 June 5, 1834
Aureliano in Palmira — 2, 3 Milan, Dec. 26, 1813 June 22, 1826
Barbiere di Siviglia, Il — 2, 3 Rome, Feb. 5, 1816[22] Jan. 27, 1818
Barbier de Séville, Le 1, 2, — Lyons, Sept. 19, 1829
Paris. May 6, 1824
Bianca e Failero — 2, 3 Milan, Dec. 26, 1819
Bruschini, I due (farsa) — — — Venice, 1813
Bruschino — 2, — Paris, Dec. 28, 1867
Cambiale di matrimonio, La (farsa) — 2, 3 Venice, Aut. 1810
Cambio della valigla, Il, or L'occasione, etc. (farsa) — 2, 3 Venice. 1812
Cenerentola, La — 2, 3 Rome, Car. 1817 Jan. 8, 1820
Cendrillon — 2, —
Comte Ory, Le 1, 2, — Paris, Aug. 20, 1828 Feb. 28, 1829
Conte Ory, Il — 2, 3 Milan, 1828 (?)
Dame du Lac, La 1, — — Paris, Oct. 21, 1825
Demetrio e Polibio — 2, 3 Rome, 1812
Donna del Lago, La — 2, 3 Naples, Oct. 4, 1819 Feb. 18, 1823
Edoardo e Cristina — 2, 3 Venice, Car. 1819
Elisabetta — 2, 3 Naples, Aut. 1815 Apr. 20, 1818
Equivoco stravagante — 2, 3 Bologna, Aut. 1811
Ermione — 2, 3 Naples, Lent. 1819
[App. p.776 "Figlio per Azzardo, Il Venice, Car. 1813"]
Gazza ladra, La — 2, 3 Milan, May 31, 1817 Mar. 10, 1821
Gazzetta, La — 2, 3 Naples, 1816
Guglielmo Tell 1, 2, 3 Milan, 1829(?) July 11, 1889
Guillaume Tell 1, 2, — Paris, Aug. 3, 1829
Inganno felice, L' (farsa) — 2, 3 Venice, Car. 1812 July 1, 1819
Isabelle, adapted from do. — 2, —
Italiana in Algeri, L' — 2, 3 Venice, 1813 Jan. 27, 1819
Maometto Secondo — 2, 3 Naples, Car. 1820
Matilde di Shabran — 2, 3 Rome, Car. 1821 July 3, 1823
Mathilde de Sabran — 2, — Paris, 1857
Moïse 1, 2, — Paris, Mar. 27, 1827
[App. p.776 "March 26"]
Mosè in Egitto (2 or 4 acts) — 2, 3 Naples, Lent. 1818
[App. p.776 "March 5"]		 (Pietro l'Eremita) Apr. 23, 1822
Do. 2nd Italian libretto Paris, 1827
Occasione fa il ladro, L', or Il cambio, etc. (farsa) Venice, 1812
Otello — 2, 3 Naples, Aut. 1816
[App. p.776 "Dec. 4"]		 May 6, 1822
[App. p.776 "May 16"]
Otello, ou le More de Venise (Castil-Blaise) Lyons, Dec. 1, 1823
Othello
Othello (Royer & Waez) — 2, — Paris, Sept. 2, 1844
Ottone Rè d'Italia (see Adelaide)
Pietra del Paragone, La — 2, 3 Milan, Sept. 26, 1812
Pietro l'Eremita Apr. 23, 1822
Pie voleuse, La 1 — — Paris, 1822
Ricciardo e Zoraide — 2, 3 Naples. Aut. 1818 June 5, 1823
Robert Bruce Paris. Dec. 30, 1846
Roberto Bruce 1847
Scala di seta, La (farsa) — 2, 3 Venice, Car. 1812
Semiramide — 2, 3 Venice, Feb. 3, 1823 July 18, 1824
Sémiramis — 2, 3 Paris, July 9, 1860
Siége de Corinthe, Le 1, 2, — Paris. Oct. 9, 1826
Sigismondo — 2, 3 Venice, Car. 1815
Tancredi — 2, 3 Venice, Car. 1813
[App. p.776 "Feb. 6"]		 May 4, 1820
Torvaldo e Dorliska — 2, 3 Rome, Dec. 26, 1815
Turco in Italia, Il — 2, 3 Milan, Aug. 14, 1814 May 19, 1821
[App. p.776 "Viaggio a Reims Paris, June 19, 1825"]
Zelmira — 2, 3 Naples, Dec. 1821 Jan. 24, 1824


II. CANTATAS AND ORATORIOS.

Title. 1=Full Score
2=PF. do.
3=MS.		 First
representation.
Angurio felice L' Verona, 1823
Bardo, Il Verona, 1823
Didone abbandonata — — 3 Bologna, 1810
Pastori, I Naples, 1820 (?)
Pianto delle Muse, Il London, 1823
Riconoscenza, La — — 3 1821
Sacra Alleanza, La Verona, 1823
Vero Ommaggio, Il Verona, 1823
Giro in Babilonia (Oratorio) — 2, 3 Ferrara, Lent. 1812


​

III. SACRED MUSIC.

Stabat Mater, 1832–41. 1, 2, 3.
La Foi, L'Esperance, et la Charité, 1844. 2, 3. Instrumented by Balbi. [App. p.776 "omit from the list of Sacred Music."
Petite Messe Solennelle, 1864. 2,3.
Tantum ergo, for 2 tenors and bass, with orchestra. 1,2,3. Composed at Bologna, and performed Nov. 28, 1847. for the re-establishment of the service in the church of S. Francesco del Minori conventuali.
Quoniam, bass solo and orchestra. 1,2,3.
O Salutaris, 4 solo voices. Published at Paris in 'La Maitrise,' reproduced in facsimile by Azevedo in his 'Rossini.'


IV. MISCELLANEOUS VOCAL MUSIC.

Gorgheggi e Solfeggi. A collection of exercises for the voice.
II pianto delle Muse, for solo and chorus. Composed on the occasion of Byron's death.
Non posso o Dio, resistere. Cantata.
Oh quanto son grate. Duettino.
Irene ed Egle. Cantata for soprano and mezzo soprano.
Ridiamo, cantiamo, à 4.
Alle voci della gloria. Scena ed Aria.
Les Soirées musicales. 8 ariettas and 4 duets.
Inno populare, on the accession of Pius IX. Chorus.
Dall' Oriente l'astro del giorno, à 4.
Cara Patria. Cantata.
Chant des Titans. Chorus.
Se il vuol la Molinara.—Rossini's first composition.
La Separazione. Dramatic song.


Various other airs and pieces, thirty or forty in number, will be found in the catalogues of Ricordi, Lucca, Brandus (Troupenas), and Escudier, which it is hardly necessary to enumerate here. Probably no composer ever wrote so much in albums as did Rossini. The number of these pieces which he threw off while in London alone is prodigious. They are usually composed to some lines of Metastasio's, beginning 'Mi lagnerà tacendo della sorfce amara,' which he is said to have set more than a hundred times.

We have stated that during the latter years of his life Rossini composed a great quantity of music for the PF. solo, both serious and comic. These pieces were sold by his widow en masse to Baron Grant for the sum of £4000. After a time the whole was put up to auction in London and purchased by Ricordi of Milan, M. Paul Dalloz, proprietor of a periodical entitled 'La Musique,' at Paris, and other persons.


V. INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC.

Le rendezvous de chasse. A fanfare for 4 trumpets, composed at Compiegne in 1828 for M. Schikler, and dedicated to him.
3 Marches for the marriage of H.R.H. the Duke of Orleans. Arranged for PF. à 4 mains.
March (Pas redoublé) composed for H.I.M. the Sultan Abdul Medjid. Arranged for PF. solo (Benedict), and à 4 mains.
5 String Quartets, arranged as Sonatines for the PF. by Mockwitz (Breitkopf & Härtel).


To enumerate and elucidate all the biographical and critical notices of Rossini would require a volume, we shall therefore confine ourselves to mentioning these of importance either from their authority, their ability, or the special nature of their contents; and for greater convenience of reference we have arranged them according to country and date.


I. Italian.

G. Carpani. Lettera all' anonimo autore dell' articolo sul 'Tancredi' di Rossini. Milan, 1818, 8vo.

G. Carpani. Le Rossiniane, ossia Lettere musicoteatrali. Padua, 1824, 130 pages, 8vo. Portrait.

Nic. Bettoni. Rossini e la sua musica. Milan, 1824, 8vo. P. Brighenti. Della musica rossiniana e del suo autore. Bologna, 1830, 8vo.

Lib. Musumeci. Parallelo tra i maestri Rossini e Bellini. Palermo, 1832, 8vo.

Anon. Osservazioni sul merito musicale dei maestri Bellini e Rossini, in riposta ad un Parallelo tra i medesimi. Bologna, 1834, 8vo. This pamphlet was translated into French by M. de Ferrer, and published as 'Rossini et Bellini.' Paris, 1835. 8vo.

Anon. Rossini e la sua musica; una Fasseggiata con Rossini. Florence, 1841, 16mo.

Anon. Dello Stabat Mater di Gioachino Rossini, Lettere Storico-critiche di un Lombardo. Bologna, 1842, 8vo.

Giov. Raffaelli. Rossini, canto. Modena, 1844, 8vo.

Fr. Regli. Elogio di Gioacchino Rossini. We have not been able to discover how far Regli (1804–66) has used this work in his Dizionario biografico' (1860).

E. Montazio. Gioacchino Rossini. Turin, 1862, 18mo. Portrait.

Giul. Vanzolini. Della vera Patria di G. Rossini Pesaro, 1873, 8vo.

Ferrucci. Giudizio perentorio sulla verita della Patria di G. Rossini impugnata dal Prof. Giul. Vanzolini. Florence, 1874; an 8vo pamphlet of 20 pages.

Sett. Silvestri. Della vita e delle opere di G. Rossini. Milan, 1874, 8vo.; with portrait and fac-similes.

Ant. Zanolini. Biografia di Gioachino Rossini. Bologna, 1875, 8vo; with portrait and fac-similes.


II. French.

Papillon. Lettre critique sur Rossini. Paris, 1823, 8vo.

Stendhal. Vie de Rossini. Paris, 1823, 8vo. Stendhal, whose real name was Henri Beyle, compiled this work from Carpani. In many passages in fact it is nothing but a translation, and Beyle's own anecdotes are not always trustworthy. It was translated into English (London. 12mo, 1826) and German (Leipzig, 1824), in the latter case by Wendt, who has added notes and corrections.

Berton. De la musique mécanique et de la musique philosophique. Paris, 1824, 8vo; 24 pages.

Ditto, followed by an Epitre à un celebre compositeur français (Boieldieu). Paris, 1826, 8vo; 48 pages.

Imbert de Laphaléque. De la Musique en France: Rossini, Guillaume Tell. ('Revue de Paris,' 1829.)

J. d'Ortigue. De la guerre des dilettanti, ou de la revolution operée par M. Rossini dans l'opera français. Paris, 1829, 8vo.

N. Bettoni. Rossini et sa musique. Paris, Bettoni, 1836, 8vo.

Anon. Vie de Rossini, etc. Anvers, 1839, 12mo; 215 pages. By M. Van Damme, who in his turn has borrowed much from Stendhal.

L. de Loménie. M. Rossini, par on homme de rien. Paris, 1842, 8vo.

Aulagnier. Quelques observations sur la publication du 'Stabat mater' de Rossini. Paris, 1842, 4to.

Anon. Observations d'un amateur non dilettante an sujet du 'Stabat' de M. Rossini. Paris, 1842, 8vo.

E. Troupenas. Résumé des opinions de la Presse sur le 'Stabat' de Rossini. Paris, 1842, 8vo; 75 pages.

Escudier frères. Rossini, sa vie et ses œuvres. Paris, 1854, 12mo; 338 pages.

Eug. de Mirecourt. Rossini. Paris, 1856, 32mo.

A. Azevedo. G. Rossini, sa vie et ses œuvres. Paris, 1865, large 8vo; 310 pages, with portraits and facsimiles. This is the most complete and eulogistic work on Rossini. It appeared originally in the 'Ménestrel,' but was discontinued there, the editor not approving of a violent attack on Meyerbeer, which Azevedo (1873 1875) included in it.

Virmattre et Elie Frébault. Les maisons comiques de Paris, 1868, 12mo. One chapter is devoted to the house of Rossini.

N. Roqueplan. Rossini. Paris, 1869, 12mo.; 16 pages.

E. Beulé. Eloge de Rossini. Paris, 1869.

A. Pougin. Rossini, Notes, impressions, souvenirs, commentaires. Paris, 1870, 8vo; 91 pages. The detailed and annotated chronological list mentioned on p. 8 has not yet been published.

O. Moutoz. Rossini et son 'Guillaume Tell.' Bourg, 1872, 8vo.

Vander Straeten. La mélodie populaire dans l'opéra 'Guillaume Tell' de Rossini. Paris, 1879, 8vo.


III. German.

Oettinger. Rossini, Komischer Roman. Leipzig, 1847. A satirical work translated into Danish by Marlow (Copenhagen, 1849, 2 vols. 8vo); into Swedish by Landberg (Stockholm, 1850, 2 vols. 8vo); and into French by Royer, 'Rossini, l'homme et l'artiste' (Brussels, 1858, 3 vols. 16mo). ​Otto Gumprecht. Musikalische Charakterbilder. Leipzig, 1860, 8vo.

Fd. Hiller. Plaudereien mit Rossini. Inserted (with date 1856) in Hiller's 'Aus dem Tonleben unserer Zeit' (Leipzig, 1868); translated into French by Ch. Schwartz in 'La France musicale,' 1865; and into English by Miss M. E. von Glehn in 'Once a Week,' 1870.

A. Struth. Rossini, sein Leben, seine Werke und Charakterztige. Leipzig.

La Mara. Musikalische Studienköpfe. Leipzig, 1874–76, 2 vols. 12mo. See vol. ii.


IV. English.

Hogarth. Memoirs of the Musical Drama. London, 1838, 2 vols. 8vo.

H. S. Edwards. Rossini's Life. London, 1860, 8vo; portrait. History of the Opera, Ib. 1862, 2 vols. 8vo. Rossini and his School, 1881.


Portraits of Rossini are frequent at all periods of his life. Marochetti's statue, in which he is represented sitting, was erected in his native town in 1864. There is a good bust by Bartolini of Florence. In the 'foyer' of the Opera in the Rue Le Peletier, Paris (now destroyed), there was a medallion of Rossini by Chevalier; a duplicate of this is in the possession of the editor of the 'Ménestrel.' The front of the new opera house has a bronze-gilt bust by M. Evrard. A good early engraving of him is that from an oil-painting by Mayer of Vienna (1820). Of later ones may be mentioned that by Thévenin after Ary Scheffer (1843): still later, a full length drawn and engraved by Masson, and a photograph by Erwig, engraved as frontispiece to the PF. score of Semiramis (Heugel). Among the lithographs the best is that of Grévedon; and of caricatures the only one deserving mention is that by Dantan.
[ G. C. ]
  1. ↑ By order of Count Pepoli, Aug. 21, 1844.
  2. ↑ January, 1821.
  3. ↑ We have Rossini's own authority for this, and for the opera having been written in 13 days, in his letter to M. Scitivauz. See 'Musical World,' Nov. 6, 1875, p. 751.
  4. ↑ Zanolini is wrong in placing 'Ottone' in his Catalogue as a distinct work.
  5. ↑ Omitted in the Italian score published in Paris.
  6. ↑ 'The Lady of the Lake' was published in 1810.
  7. ↑ Revolt of the Carbonari, under Pepe.
  8. ↑ So written, though pronounced Sabran by the Italians.
  9. ↑ May 8, 1822, reporting the early part of March.
  10. ↑ This recalls the visit of a great composer in 1746, when Gluck gave a concert at the King's Theatre, at which the great attraction was his solo on the musical glasses! [See vol. i. p. 601a.]
  11. ↑ The score of 'Andremo noi a Parigi' is in the Library of the Conservatoire, but the finale of the 'Viaggio,' which we have mentioned as containing national airs, is not there, and this curious feat has probably vanished for ever.
  12. ↑ The custom in Italy in those days was to sell an opera to a manager for two years, with exclusive right of representation; after that it became public property. The only person who derived no profit from this arrangement was the unfortunate composer. Sic vos non nobil.
  13. ↑ Evidence of the extent to which liberal ideas had seized society at this date is to be found in the fact that Carafa's 'Masaniello' and Auber's 'Muette de Portici'—both bearing directly on popular insurrection, were produced in Paris on Dec. 27, 1827, and Feb. 29, 1828, respectively.
  14. ↑ See Hiller's 'Mendelssohn,' and M.'s own letter, July 14, 1836.
  15. ↑ We have mentioned that he paid 6,000 francs for the Siege of Corinth.' For 'Moïse' he gave only 2,400; but, on the other hand, the 'Comte Ory' cost him 12,000, and 'Guillaume Tell' 24,000.
  16. ↑ It represented him seated in an easy attitude. It was destroyed when the opera-house was burnt down in 1873.
  17. ↑ Dried fruits for dessert.
  18. ↑ The English reader will find these points happily touched on in Mr. Sutherland Edwards's 'History of the Opera,' chap. xvi. Rossini's use of the solo bass voice, in which, consciously or not, he followed the lead of Mozart, has been already mentioned in this Dictionary, vol. i. p. 149.
  19. ↑ Berlioz, 'Memoires,' chap. xiv. The abuse of the 'brutale grosse caisse de Rossini' sounds oddly from Berlioz's pen.
  20. ↑ Letter in Kreissle's Biography of Schubert, chap. vii.
  21. ↑ It is amusing to find Rossini accused in his own time, as both Beethoven and Wagner have been, of being a destroyer of the voice. The correspondent of the Allg. Musik. Zeitung, writing from Venice in April 1819, mentions a certain Countess Dieterichstein at Borne, who pronounced that his passages were so straining and ruinous for both throat and chest that if he wrote operas for ten years longer there would be no more singers left in Italy. Giorgi, continues the correspondent, for whom he wrote the Cenerentola, is already completely ruined.
  22. ↑ This is the correct date, not Dec. 26, 1816. [See vol. i. 133b.]
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