Part 9

In May, 1734, Pergolese was called to Rome to become the chapel-master of the church of Santa Maria di Loreto. Regarding this nomination as a promotion in his art as well as a recognition of his ability, he set himself seriously to work upon something which should at once confirm any good opinion of his powers and demonstrate his gratitude. Putting aside the trivial Neapolitan _libretti_, he turned to Metastasio and drew from his poetry the text for his "Olimpiade," a grand opera which was brought out in 1735 at the Tordinona. At this time the composer Duni--of whom little more than the name now remains--was a composer much in favor, and was about to bring out a new work of his own, "Nero." He had no small fear of what Pergolese might do and withheld his score until he could make acquaintance with that of the new comer. His opinion, written directly to Pergolese, with many expressions of admiration, included these words: "There are here too many details beyond the reach of the average public; they will pass unperceived, and you will not succeed. My opera will not have the value of yours; but, being more simple, it will be more fortunate." Duni was right; the "Olimpiade" was a failure; some parts of it were hissed,--although it was admitted that two airs and one duet were "deeply expressive,"--and one chronicler records that some irate auditor went so far as to throw an orange at the head of the composer as he sat at the harpsichord in the orchestra. The generous spirited Duni afterwards said that he was "in a fury" against the Roman public for its behavior toward his contemporary.

This defeat was a decisive one, and Pergolese turned back to his duties as a composer and director of religious music. The ensuing period was signalized by his writing, among other things, of a mass, a _Dixit_ and a _Laudate_, all upon a commission from the Duke of Maddaloni, who desired them for the annual festival at the church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, at Rome, where they were sung with great éclat.

The end of Pergolese's career was now approaching. For about four years he had had frequent hemorrhages and had shown other signs of pulmonary consumption. Beside having within it the germs of this fatal disease, his constitution had been sapped and weakened by dissipation, and what one of his biographers calls squarely his "_passion effrénée pour les femmes_." To save what strength and life he still had, it was necessary that he should leave Rome for a less trying climate, and he determined to return to the softer and more salubrious air of Naples. One writer says that he betook himself to a property belonging to the Duke of Maddaloni, at Torre del Greco, just at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, where the sunny exposure and the protection of the volcano from the winds of the north are thought to be extremely propitious to such invalids as he. But this stay can have been only temporary, because his final residence is known to have been in a villa at Pozzuoli, which is quite on the other side of Naples and is to be accounted a no less salubrious place of sojourn, having been sought for sanitary reasons by the old Romans.

Pergolese was hardly fit to do any work in these days, but he had accepted a commission from the confraternity of San Luigi di Palazzo, in Rome, and was determined to execute it. The subject was a "Salve Regina," and he was to receive for it the munificent sum of ten ducats--equivalent, perhaps, to about eight dollars of the present currency. Like Mozart, laboring over this "Requiem," Pergolese gave his last thought and his last strength to this anthem, and had hardly completed it when, on the 16th of March, 1736. he died. There were rumors at the time, which even had some currency years later, that he had been poisoned, the isolation of his retreat and the peculiarity of some of his symptoms suggesting the possibility of this. But, apart from the fact that his physical condition and his known habits explained his maladies and their inevitable termination, Pergolese was not a figure of sufficient importance to excite jealousy or animosity. His life had not been a public one in the full sense of the word, and in the lyric drama, where he desired most to shine, he had made but one real success--that of "La Serva Padrona."

Hardly had the young composer's body been buried--in the little cathedral at Pozzuoli--when a sudden and extreme admiration for his music broke out in Italy, and soon spread to other countries. Naples, in her tardy enthusiasm, justified the reproach of Dr. Burney, who wrote, "Had she known her own happiness, Naples might have boasted of possessing one of the greatest geniuses she or the world had ever produced. The first opera of Giovanni Battista Pergolese was performed at her second theatre! The young composer found not among his countrymen minds sensible of his extraordinary talents or that acknowledged the natural maxim of Horace, '_Bonus sis felixque tuis_.' His native land was the last to discover, or to confess, his superior powers."

Two years after its author's death the "Olimpiade" was reproduced in splendid fashion at Rome and received with honor. The "Serva Padrona" was translated into other languages and heard in many European cities. It reached Paris about 1750, and although performed by inferior singers, it created so deep an impression,--subsequently increased by "Il Maestro di Musica,"--that some French authorities have not hesitated to say that this music almost revolutionized theatrical art and led to the establishment of comic opera as it has been since understood in France. His sacred music was also introduced in the Concerts Spirituels and greatly applauded as among the chief sensations of the time. Pergolese is judged to have had his first adequate hearing in England in 1724. The poet Gray had brought home from Italy fine reports of the new music, and in that year the "Olimpiade" was put upon the stage of the King's Theatre, then directed by the Duke of Middlesex. It had not a distinguished success, but one air, "_Tremende oscure atroci_," became an established favorite in concerts with the principal Italian tenors for ten years after.

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For a good many years after Pergolese's death his music, both dramatic and sacred, was in the highest esteem throughout Italy, and received the tribute of much imitation. His "Stabat Mater," which may be regarded as the best of his ecclesiastical compositions--unless some should prefer the "Salve Regina"--even held its own, and not in Italy alone, by any means, until it was superseded by the larger and more popularly written work of Rossini.

The rush of modern music and the modifications in taste have pushed the scores of Pergolese from the theatre and the concert room, and no later performances of his operas are to be noted as of consequence since the double revival of "La Serva Padrona" in Paris, in 1863, when the original version was given at the Italiens and the French translation at the Opéra Comique, Mesdames Galli-Marié and Penco carrying off the honors. The instrumental trios are never heard nowadays, and although Catholic choirs throughout the world still keep his church music in use, it is only upon rare occasions that the "Stabat Mater" is produced for Protestant auditors by some serious-minded choral society.

Pergolese was a quite industrious writer, if allowance be made for the diversions caused by his personal indulgences, and for the discouragement which was naturally produced upon a temperament like his by the lack of appreciation, sympathy and material support, individual patronage having undoubtedly contributed at least as much to his material and spiritual comfort and development as public applause and sustenance. He was not a rapid writer, however, and the record of his compositions, so far as they are known, includes besides the operas which have been already named, a large cantata entitled "Orfeo;" five minor cantatas; an oratorio having for its subject the Nativity; the thirty trios already alluded to; five masses, and a dozen or so of religious pieces. A considerable number of the vocal scores were published and twenty-four of the trios were printed in London or Amsterdam, but the minor religious works and some of the operas remained in manuscript and are practically inaccessible except to studious inquirers in Italian libraries.

It is not difficult to establish now a just estimate of the genius of Pergolese, which was undervalued during his lifetime, then suddenly exalted above its worth and then again depreciated below its true plane. It was seldom that the external form of his compositions gave an adequate idea of the spiritual qualities which dwelt within them. Wise and careful observers often remarked that they heard with surprise and delight much which they had not anticipated from an examination of the scores. Educated strictly in the severe and learned Neapolitan school, he was of course a master of counterpoint and of all the devices and figures of musical effect, which, as has been said, constituted the staple of his first pieces. But he had an intuitive sense of the dramatic element in man and in music, and he made this felt, alike in the humorous sprightliness of "La Serva Padrona," the emotional piety of the "Salve Regina," and the pathetic strophes of the "Stabat Mater."

Except in his grand operas and his ecclesiastical pieces, he asked for no large forces of singers or players. In his masses he wrote as usual for four voices, although he seems to have preferred five, and he not infrequently required in them two choirs, each in five parts. The "Stabat Mater" is for two voices only, and its accompaniment is so simple and so thin that Paisiello subsequently wrote additional instrumentation for it. The "Serva Padrona" has only two characters and the accompaniment requires only the string quartet; yet so ingenious, so bright, so gay and so apposite is all the music, that the hearer never finds it monotonous or tedious.

That Pergolese should have began his musical life as a violinist and yet should have written for the voice with perfect expressiveness and exact adaptation, has sometimes been thought strange. But his is by no means an isolated case, for many of the best writers of vocal music have begun their studies as instrumentalists and have even excelled as performers; besides which, he put aside the violin as soon as the larger scope of his gifts was discovered and further improved his feeling for the voice by association with Vinci and Hasse when he was once free of the Conservatory.

Pergolese's limitations sprang from the same source whence flowed his power--his understanding of the natural adaptation of the means of expression to the ideas and emotions to be conveyed. He could not or would not pass into the theatrical, the meretricious and the exaggerated, and hence it is that his music sometimes fell short of the effect which he had hoped for it or lacked the variety of color and manner without which a large and extended work must weary the ear, or at least fail to keep it alert and interested.

He excelled in grace, simplicity and purity of style, although his music, written for singers who had been trained to depend upon themselves and not to lean upon accompaniments, may appear abstruse and difficult to present readers. He brought to his time the vitality, movement, spring and sincerity of life which it had not, and he used his means with tact and directness in appealing to sentiment, mirth, pathos and piety according as he wished to evoke them. If he cannot be accorded the honor of having created a new manner of musical composition, he must be awarded that of having beautified and enlivened the art as he found it, and of having done the world a lasting benefit, greater perhaps in the impulse given to contemporary and subsequent thought, than in the impression directly made by him upon his time and his people.

GIOACCHINO ROSSINI

Rossini is one of the last and most glorious representatives of that admirable Italian school which for three centuries cast such a brilliant radiance over the art of its country, and which seems unhappily, to have come to a close with the illustrious Verdi. A genius, fertile and luminous, gifted with an inspiration warm and generous, an imagination ardent and active, he astonished the world for twenty years by his creative power, and after having enchanted his native land by a long series of works which were distinguished, now by the grace, now by the grandeur, now by the novelty of their forms, he prematurely terminated his dramatic career at the age of thirty-seven, by a marvellous masterpiece written expressly for the French stage. This was the _William Tell_ which radiated from France over the entire world, and which to-day, after an existence of sixty years, is still young, fresh and powerful, like a colossus which nothing can harm. The history of this immortal artist, whose name should be inscribed in letters of gold in the annals of the art, is certainly one of the most interesting which the history of music can furnish us.

Gioacchino Rossini was born at Pesaro, a little town of the Romagne, Feb. 29, 1792. His father, who was a musician and played very well on the horn, was employed in this little town in the double capacity of _tubatore_ (town-trumpeter) and inspector of the slaughter houses. His mother, whose name was Anna Guidarini, was very beautiful and gifted with an exceptionally fine voice. At the time of the passage through Pesaro in 1796 of the victorious French army, Rossini's father, it is said, in a burst of enthusiasm for republican ideas, let fall some imprudent remarks which the reaction soon afterwards judged worthy of punishment. They began by dismissing him from the post of _tubatore_, after which it was not long before he was thrown into prison. Left alone with her child, his wife joined a travelling opera troupe, and when the prisoner was set at liberty he followed her in her peregrinations, playing the horn in the orchestra of the theatres at which she performed.

During this time the child learned from his father the first elements of music, and even reached the dignity of playing second horn in the orchestra. But the lad gave such unusual promise that his parents soon determined to give him a regular musical education. He was sent to Bologna and placed under the instruction of a professor named Angelo Tesei, with whom he studied singing and the piano, and as he had a very sweet soprano voice he was able to earn something by singing in the churches. Notwithstanding his tender age he rapidly became an excellent reader and clever accompanist, so that his father thought it best to take the boy with him on his tours and to obtain for him the post of _maestro al cembalo_ at the theatres. This was only for a short time, however, and early in 1807 the young Rossini returned to Bologna and entered the famous musical lyceum of that city, where he studied counterpoint with P. Stanislas Mattei, and the violoncello with Cavedagni. The following year he was charged with the composition of the annual cantata, which it was the custom to confide to the best pupil of the institution. This cantata, which was entitled _Pianto d'armonia per la Morte d'Orfeo_, was performed on Aug. 8, 1808. Rossini was sixteen years old, and already six of his compositions had been performed, one of which was an opera, _Demetrio e Polibio_.

But he was impatient of the yoke of his master Mattei, who dismayed him with numberless rules of counterpoint for which he could give no reason, and who, when questioned on these points by his pupil would simply respond that such was the tradition. Dissatisfied with such insufficient explanation, Rossini thought out a more practical and certainly excellent means of familiarizing himself with the forms of harmony and modulation; he applied himself to the study of the quartets and symphonies of Haydn and Mozart, and also to the task of scoring them. Thus, by an attentive analysis, he learned more in a few months than he had learned in several years through the empirical teaching of Mattei. Then when he felt pretty sure of himself, he left the school, determined to start out on the career of composer. He had just passed his eighteenth year.

He returned to Pesaro, his native town, and there found friends and advocates who facilitated his entrance upon that career by obtaining for him an engagement with the San Mosê theatre of Venice, to write an opera entitled _la Cambiale di matrimonio_, which was performed at that theatre in the autumn of 1810. This little work was a happy beginning for him. The following year he gave to the Corso theatre of Bologna, _l'Equivoco stravagante_, and in 1812 he brought out no less than six operas: _l'Inganno felice_ (San Mosê theatre, Venice), _Ciro in Babilonia_ (Communal theatre, Ferrare), _la Scala di seta_ (San Mosê theatre, Venice), _Demetrio e Polibio_ (Valle theatre, Rome), _la Pietra del paragone_ (Scala theatre, Milan), and _l'Occasione fa il ladro, o il Cambio della valigia_ San Mosê theatre, Venice. These works were not all equally successful, but most of them were very well received as was proved by the eagerness with which the different theatres already strove for the works of so young a composer. Moreover, one could point out in these different scores many remarkable fragments which gave some idea of the precocious genius of the artist, and of the freshness, grace and originality of his inspiration; in _l'Inganno felice_, a very beautiful trio; in _la Pietra del paragone_, a charming cavatina and the finale of the first act; in _Ciro in Babilonia_, two airs and a fine chorus, the principal motive of which became later the theme of the adorable cavatina of the _Barber of Seville_ (Ecco ridente il cielo); finally, in _Demetrio e Polibio_, an exquisite quartet which was afterwards interpolated by the singers into several of the master's works.

In 1813, after a _farsa_ entitled _il Signor Bruschino o il Figlio per azzardo_, Rossini again wrote two very important works, one in the serious _genre_, _Tancredi_, the other in the _genre bouffe, l'Italiana in Algeri_. These two works, the first of which was performed at the Fenice theatre, Venice, and the second at the San Benedetto, of the same city, was a double triumph for the author, and placed Rossini once for all in the first rank of the composers of his time. Moreover, they proved that the young master was as much at home in the dramatic _genre_, where he worked with a remarkable grandeur and power, as in light opera, in which he displayed an unequalled verve, gaiety, warmth and originality.

Rossini's artistic successes led to another kind of success, no less important. Italy was then under French rule, and Napoleon, emperor of the French people, had taken the title of king of Italy. But Napoleon, whose very life it was to fight, was a terrible devourer of men and his constant cry was for more soldiers. Rossini had reached the age when he must draw lots for the conscription. Was it possible to enroll a young artist whose genius announced itself in so brilliant a fashion, and could they force this artist, who promised to win distinction for his country, to take the chances of combat? All Italy was as one voice which demanded that Rossini be exempt from military service. Prince Eugène, who bore the title and fulfilled the functions of viceroy, took it upon himself to pronounce this exemption, and the future author of _William Tell_ was able to pursue in peace the career in which he was to find honor and glory. In 1814 Rossini gave in quick succession to the Scala theatre of Milan two great works, one of them serious, _Aureliano in Palmira_, which was not very successful, the other light, _il Turco in Italia_, which was more fortunate; then in the following year he brought out at Venice _Sigismondo_. It was from this time forth that he found a place worthy of him.

There was at that time at the San Carlo theatre of Naples a man who had made himself famous throughout all Italy, a remarkable impresario, whose cleverness and fortune were matters of surprise even to those best acquainted with the mysteries of the green-room, and the difficulties attending all enterprises of this kind. A Milanese by birth, this man, whose name was Domenico Barbaja, was born of very poor parents, who had given him no education whatever. But he was naturally intelligent, astute, audacious, consumed with ambition, and to all this he joined a very sagacious mind and a remarkable artistic instinct, coupled with an indefatigable activity. Ascended from the lowest round in the social ladder, apt at everything he undertook, having been in turn commissioner, horse-jockey, waiter at the café, petty usurer and contractor for the public gaming tables, he had ended by becoming quite at home in public affairs, which he managed with a consummate cleverness. He had installed himself at Naples in 1808, and it was there that he had obtained the license for keeping a gambling house. The following year he took the direction of the two royal theatres, San Carlo and Fondo, to which he soon added the other two theatres, the Fiorentini and the Nuovo. Then, as if this did not suffice to satisfy his ardor, he undertook in a short time, without abandoning any of his other projects, the management of the two great stages of the Scala and the Canobbiana at Milan, and the Italian opera at Vienna. And under his inspired direction all these enterprises prospered so well that the Italians surnamed Barbaja il _Napoleone degl' impresari_. It is certain that for twenty years he succeeded in uniting at the theatres which he directed, all the most celebrated composers, poets, singers and dancers, and that his liberality, good taste and artistic sense contributed very considerably to the surprising development of dramatic art in Italy during this period.