CHAPTER IV.

ROSSINI AND HIS CRITICS.

"Now I think of it," said Rossini, a great many years afterwards, to Ferdinand Hiller, "what was not written against me when I went to Paris! Old Berton even made verses on me, and called me 'Signor Crescendo' in them. But it all blew over without injury to life or limb."

Rossini was too philosophical, and, without being in the least vain, was sufficiently conscious, no doubt, of his own talent to care much what was thought of his music either by ordinary critics or by the general public. At the first performance of the "Barber," when everyone was hissing, he turned round and applauded.

He himself said that he was tolerably calm at a success as well as at a failure; "and for this," he added, "I have to thank an impression I received in my earliest youth, and which I shall never forget. Before my first operetta was brought out I was present at the performance of a one-act opera by Simon Mayer. Mayer was then the hero of the day, and had produced in Venice perhaps twenty operas with the greatest success. In spite of this, however, the public treated him on the evening to which I refer as if he had been some ignorant young vagabond; you cannot form an idea of such a piece of grossness. I was really astounded. Is it thus that you recompense a man who for so many years has produced you enjoyment? Dare you take such a liberty because you have paid two or three paoli for admittance? If such is the case, it is not worth while to take your judgment to heart, I thought; and I have always acted as much as possible in conformity with that opinion."

In regard to printed criticism, he showed himself more considerate to critics than critics sometimes showed themselves to him. When Weber was passing through Paris, in 1826, on his way to London, he called on Rossini, but hesitated before doing so on the ground that a dozen years before he had published a hostile criticism on "Tancredi."

Instead of feeling any resentment, Rossini said that if he had only known when he was twenty-one that a foreign composer had taken any notice of "Tancredi" he should certainly have felt very much flattered by the attention.

But the malicious Berton did not confine himself to criticising Rossini's music, he attempted to cast ridicule on Rossini personally, whom he called, among other facetious nicknames, "Signor Vacarmini," and "Signor Crescendo." This could not please Rossini, but he did not mind the impertinence very much.

Rossini had, of course, been preceded in Paris by his reputation, and his reputation by his music. But it was not until the public had learned its true superiority from the very manoeuvre which Paer had adopted in order to demonstrate its worthlessness that Rossini's music was accepted by the Parisians at anything like its value.

"L'Italiana in Algeri" had already been played in Paris, in the year 1817, when Garcia, the original _Almaviva_, proposed that the "Barber" should be produced for his benefit.

Publishers were not so expeditious then as they are now in getting out the scores of new operas, and the music of the "Barber" had not at that time been engraved, or at least not in a complete form. Garcia, however, had provided himself with a manuscript copy, and in spite of repeated objections from Paer and others, continued to request that the work might be put into rehearsal.

The first reply with which Garcia was met is worth recording. The directors of the Italian Opera of Paris informed him that "only masterpieces could be performed at their theatre, and that "Il Barbiere," a work of secondary merit, by an author almost unknown, was not worthy of being presented to the Parisian public."

Garcia, however, was of a different opinion; and in renewing his engagement for the year following, made it a special condition that the "Barber" should be brought out. Accordingly in the autumn of the following year, 1819, this "work of secondary merit" was actually represented.

The audience _must_ have been delighted; but several critics were not. One thought that _Figaro's_ cavatina was "wanting in character!" and added, with super-journalistic absurdity, that "the composer might have made much more out of the air of "La Calunnia." Another said of it that "its success would serve to enhance that of "Agnese," a very celebrated opera of that day by Paer; a third, that Paisiello's "Barber" ought to be given, and with particular care, so that the triumph of the old master over his competitor "might be rendered not more sure, but more striking."

The hint was meant to be acted upon, and Paisiello's veteran "Barber," supported only by stringed instruments, was brought out to crush the vigorous young "Barber" of Rossini, full of life, and with musical instruments of all kinds to depend upon. Paisiello had been the favourite Italian composer of the Empire (the Emperor, according to Paisiello's own naive observation, liked his music "because it did not prevent his thinking of other things);" but his "Barber" had grown old and feeble apparently, without anyone suspecting the change.

Three times this respectable but unattractive musical invalid was brought forth; the third time there was scarcely anyone to meet him; and Paisiello's "Barber" was not heard of again, until, only a few years ago, he was introduced to the public of "Les Fantaisies Parisiennes," not as the possible competitor of anyone, but merely as an interesting relic of a past age.

In the meanwhile Rossini's "Barber" had been reproduced, to be followed by "Il Turco in Italia," "La Pietra del Paragone," and "La Gazza Ladra." With the general public Rossini's music was now in the highest favour, and "La Gazza Ladra," like "Il Barbiere," drew crowded audiences.

The late M. Berlioz, whose antipathy to Rossini's music was so great as to be absolutely unintelligible to those who have not heard M. Berlioz's music, had not at that time the ear--I mean, of course, the literary ear--of the French public. Otherwise, without delaying Rossini's triumph, he certainly would have increased the number of Rossini's enemies.

"If," he afterwards said, "it had been in my power to place a barrel of powder under the Salle Louvois and blow it up, during the representation of "La Gazza Ladra" or "Il Barbiere," with all that it contained, I certainly should not have failed to do so."

This was worse than the young Milanese drumhater, who wished to murder Rossini, but Rossini only, for his overture to "La Gazza Ladra."

Rossini insisted on being introduced to the eccentric student of Milan. Had he known of Berlioz's existence he would have wanted to cultivate his intimate acquaintance.