History of the Opera from its Origin in Italy to the present Time

The libretto of Il Matrimonio Segretto, by Bertatti, is imitated from that of a forgotten French operetta, Sophie ou le Mariage Caché, which is again founded on Garrick and Coleman's Clandestine Marriage. The Emperor Leopold was unable to be present at the first performance of Cimarosa's new work, but he heard of its enormous success, and determined not to miss a note at the second representation. He was in his box before the commencement of the overture, and listened to the performance throughout with the greatest attention, but without manifesting any opinion as to the merits of the music. As the Sovereign did not applaud, the brilliant audience who had assembled to hear Il Matrimonio a second time, were obliged, by court etiquette, to remain silent without giving the slightest expression to the delight the music afforded them. This icy reception was very different to the one obtained by the opera the night before, when the marks of approbation from all parts of the house had been of the most enthusiastic kind. However, when the piece was at an end, the Emperor rose and said aloud —

"Bravo, Cimarosa, bravissimo! The whole opera is admirable, delightful, enchanting. I did not applaud that I might not lose a single note of this masterpiece. You have heard it twice, and I must have the same pleasure before I go to bed. Singers and musicians, pass into the next room! Cimarosa will come too, and will preside at the banquet prepared for you. When you have had sufficient rest we will begin again. I encore the whole opera, and, in the mean while, let us applaud it as it deserves." Leopold clapped his hands, and for some minutes the whole theatre resounded with plaudits. After the banquet, the entire opera was repeated.

The only other example of such an occurrence as the above is to be found in the career of Terence, whose Eunuchus on its first production, was performed twice the same day, or, rather, once in the morning, and once in the evening.

A similar amount of success obtained by Paer's Laodicea had quite an opposite result; for, as nearly the whole opera was encored, piece by piece, it was found impossible to conclude it the same evening, and the performance of the last act was postponed until the next night.

Mozart's Nozze di Figaro, produced six years before the Matrimonio Segretto, was far less justly appreciated, – indeed, at Vienna, was not appreciated at all. This admirable work, so full of fresh spontaneous melody, and of rich, varied harmony was actually hissed by the Viennese! They even hissed Non piu andrai, which seems equally calculated to delight the educated and the most uneducated ear. Mozart has made allusion to this almost incredible instance of bad taste very happily and ingeniously in the supper scene of Don Giovanni.

MOZART AND JOSEPH II

Joseph II. cared only for Italian music, and never gave his entire approbation to anything Mozart produced, though the musicians of the period acknowledged him to be the greatest composer in Europe.

"It is too fine for our ears," said the presumptuous Joseph, speaking to Mozart of the Seraglio. "Seriously, I think there are too many notes."

"Precisely the proper number," replied the composer.

The Emperor rewarded his frankness by giving him only fifty ducats for his opera.[74 - Alexander II. gives Verdi an honorarium of 80,000 roubles for the opera he is now writing for St. Petersburg. The work, of course, remains Signor Verdi's property.]

Nevertheless, the Seraglio had caused the success of one of the emperor's favourite enterprises. It was the first work produced at the German Opera, established by Joseph II., at Vienna. Until that time, Italian opera predominated everywhere; indeed, German opera, that is to say, lyric dramas in the German language, set to music by German composers, and sung by German singers, could not be said to exist. There were a number of Italian musicians living at Vienna who were quite aware of Mozart's superiority, and hated him for it; the more so, as by taking such an important part in the establishment of the German Opera, he threatened to diminish the reputation of the Italian school. The Entführung aus dem Serail was the first blow to the supremacy of Italian opera. Der Schauspieldirector was the second, and when, after the production of this latter work at the new German theatre of Vienna, Mozart proceeded to write the Nozze di Figaro for the Italians, he simply placed himself in the hands of his enemies. At the first representation, the two first acts of the Nozze were so shamefully executed, that the composer went in despair to the emperor to denounce the treachery of which he was being made the victim. Joseph had detected the conspiracy and was nearly as indignant as Mozart himself. He sent a severe message round to the stage, but the harm was now done, and the remainder of the opera was listened to very coldly. Le Nozze di Figaro failed at Vienna, and was not appreciated, did not even get a fair hearing, until it was produced some months afterwards at Prague. The Slavonians of Bohemia showed infinitely more good taste and intelligence than the Germans (led away and demoralized, however, by an Italian clique) at Vienna. At Prague, le Nozze di Figaro caused the greatest enthusiasm, and Mozart replied nobly to the sympathy and admiration of the Bohemians. "These good people," he said, "have avenged me. They know how to do me justice, I must write something to please them." He kept his word, and the year afterwards gave them the immortal Don Giovanni.

MOZART AND SALIERI

At the head of the clique which had sworn eternal enmity to Mozart, was Salieri, a musician with a sort of Pontius Pilate reputation, owing his infamous celebrity to the fact that his name is now inseparably coupled with that of the sublime composer whom he would have destroyed. Salieri (whom we have met with before in Paris as the would-be successor of Gluck) was the most learned of the Italian composers at that time residing in Vienna; and, therefore, must have felt the greatness of Mozart's genius more profoundly than any of the others. When Don Giovanni, after its success at Prague, was produced at Vienna, it was badly put on the stage, imperfectly rehearsed, and represented altogether in a very unsatisfactory manner. Nor, with improved execution did the audience show any disposition to appreciate its manifold beauties. Mozart's Don Giovanni was quite eclipsed by the Assur of his envious and malignant rival.

"I will leave it to psychologists to determine," says M. Oulibicheff,[75 - Nouvelle Biographie de Mozart. Moscou, 1843.] "whether the day on which Salieri triumphed publicly over Mozart, was the happiest or the most painful of his life. He triumphed, indeed, thanks to the ignorance of the Viennese, to his own skill as a director, (which enabled him to render the work of his rival scarcely recognisable), and to the entire devotion of his subordinates. He must have been pleased; but Salieri was not only envious, he was also a great musician. He had read the score of Don Giovanni, and you know that the works one reads with the greatest attention are those of one's enemies. With what admiration and despair it must have filled the heart of an artist who was even more ambitious of true glory than of mere renown! What must he have felt in his inmost soul! And what serpents must again have crawled and hissed in the wreath of laurel which was placed on his head! In spite of the fiasco of his opera, which he seems to have foreseen, and to which, at all events, he resigned himself with great calmness, Mozart, doubtless, more happy than his conqueror, added a few 'numbers,' each a masterpiece to his score. Four new pieces were written for it, at the request of the Viennese singers."

M. Oulibicheff's compatriot Poushkin has written an admirable study on the subject presented above in a few suggestive phrases by Mozart's biographer. Unfortunately, it is impossible in these volumes to find a place for the Russian poet's "Mozart and Salieri."

After the failure of Don Giovanni at Vienna, a number of persons were speaking of it in a room where Haydn and the principal connoisseurs of the place were assembled. Every one agreed in pronouncing it a most estimable work, but, also, every one had something to say against it. At last, Haydn, who, hitherto, had not spoken a word, was asked to give his opinion.

"I do not feel myself in a position to decide this dispute," he answered. "All I know and can assure you of is that Mozart is the greatest composer of our time."

DON GIOVANNI

As Salieri's Assur completely eclipsed Don Giovanni, so, previously, did Martini's Cosa Rara, the Nozze di Figaro. Both these phenomena manifested themselves at Vienna, and the reader has already been reminded that the fate of the Nozze di Figaro is alluded to in Don Giovanni. All the airs played by the hero's musicians in the supper scene are taken from the operas which were most in vogue when Mozart produced his great work; such as La Cosa Rara, Frà due Litiganti terzo gode, and I Pretendenti Burlati. Leporello calls attention to the melodies as the orchestra on the stage plays them, and when, to terminate the series, the clarionets strike up Non piu andrai, he exclaims Questo lo conosco pur troppo! "I know this one only too well!" With the exception of Non piu andrai, which the Viennese could not tolerate the first time they heard it, none of the airs introduced in the Don Giovanni supper scene would be known in the present day, but for Don Giovanni.

Don Giovanni, composed by Mozart to Da Ponte's libretto (which is founded on Molière's Festin de Pierre, which is imitated from Tirso di Molina's El Burlador di Siviglia, which seems to have had its origin in a very ancient legend[76 - There are numerous analogies between the various Spanish legends of Don Juan, the Anglo-Saxon and German legends of Faust, and the Polish legend of Twardowski. It might be shown that they were all begotten by the legend of Theophilus of Syracuse, and that their latest descendant is Punch of London.]), was produced at Prague, on the 4th of November, 1787. The subject had already been treated in a ballet, in four acts, for which Gluck wrote the music (produced at Parma in 1758; and long before the production of Mozart's Don Giovanni, it had been dramatised in some shape or other in almost every country in Europe, and especially in Spain, Italy, and France, where several versions of the Italian Il Convitato di Pietra were being played, when Molière first brought out his so-called Festin de Pierre. The original cast of Don Giovanni at Prague was as follows: —

Donna Anna, Teresa Saporiti.

Elvira, Catarina Micelli.

Zerlina, Madame Bondini (Catarina Saporiti).

Don Giovanni, Bassi (Luigi).

Ottavio, Baglioni (Antonio).

Leporello, Ponziani (Felice).

Don Pedro, Lolli (Guiseppe).

Masetto, the same.

Righini, of Bologna, had produced his opera of Don Giovanni, ossia il Convitato di Pietra, at Prague, only eight years before, for which reason the title of Il Dissoluto Punito was given to Mozart's work. It was not until some years afterwards that it received the name by which it is now universally known.

DON GIOVANNI

Although the part of Don Giovanni was written for a baritone, tenors, such as Tacchinardi and Garcia, have often played it, and frequently with greater success than the majority of baritones have obtained. But no individual success of a favourite singer can compensate for the transpositions and changes that have to be effected in Mozart's masterpiece, when the character of the hero is assigned to a vocalist who cannot execute the music which of right belongs to it. It has been said that Mozart wrote the part of Don Giovanni for a baritone, because it so happened that the baritone at the Prague theatre, Bassi, was the best singer of the company; but it is not to be imagined that the musical characterization of the personages in the most truly dramatic opera ever written, was the result of anything but the composer's well-considered design. "Don Giovanni was not intended for Vienna, but for Prague," Mozart is reported to have said. "The truth, however, is," he added, "that I wrote it for myself, and a few friends." Accordingly, the great composer was not thinking of Bassi at the time. It would be easy, moreover, to show, that though the most feminine of male voices may suit the ordinary jeune premier, or premier amoureux, there is nothing tenor-like in the temperament of a Don Giovanni; deceiving all women, defying all men, breaking all laws, human and divine, and an unbeliever in everything – even in the power of equestrian statues to get off their horses, and sit down to supper.

DON GIOVANNI

But, let us not consider whether or not Fin ch' han dal vino is improved by being sung (as tenor Don Giovannis sometimes sing it) a fourth higher than it was written by Mozart; or whether it is tolerable that the concerted pieces in which Don Giovanni takes part should be, not transposed (for that would be insufficient, or, rather, would increase the difficulties of execution) but so altered, that in some passages the original design of the composer is entirely perverted. Let us simply repeat the maxim, on which it is impossible to lay too much stress, that the work of a great master should not be touched, re-touched, or in any manner interfered with, under any pretext. There is, absolutely, no excuse for managers mutilating Don Giovanni; not even the excuse that in its original form this inexhaustible opera does not "draw." It has already lived, and with full, unfailing life, for three-quarters of a century. It has survived all sorts of revolutions in taste, and especially in musical taste. There are now no Emperors of Germany. Prague has become a third-rate city. That German Opera, which Mozart originated with his Entführung aus dem Serail, has attained a grand development, and among its composers has numbered Beethoven, Weber, and the latter's follower, and occasional imitator, Meyerbeer. Rossini has appeared with his seductive melody, and his brilliant, sonorous orchestra. But justice is still – more than ever – done to Mozart. The verdict of Prague is maintained; and this year, as ten, twenty, forty years ago, if the manager of the Italian Opera of London, Paris, or St. Petersburgh, has had for some time past a series of empty houses, he takes an opera, seventy-four years of age, and which, according to all ordinary musical calculations, ought long since to have had, at least, one act in the grave, dresses it badly, puts it badly on the stage, with such scenery as would be thought unworthy of Verdi, and hazardous for Meyerbeer, announces Don Giovanni, and every place in the theatre is taken!

Although Mozart's genius was fully acknowledged by the greatest musicians, among his contemporaries (the reader already knows what Haydn said of him, and what Cimarosa replied when he was addressed as his superior), his music found an echo in the hearts of only a very small portion of the ordinary public. Admired at Prague, condemned at Vienna, unknown in the rest of Europe, it may be said, with only too much truth, that Mozart's master-pieces, speaking generally, met with no recognition until after his death; with no fitting recognition until long afterwards. From the slow, strong, oak-like growth of Mozart's fame, now flourishing, and still increasing every day, we may see, not for his name alone, but for his music, a continued celebrity and popularity, which will probably endure as long as our modern civilization. I have already spoken of the effects of the last general war in checking literary and artistic communication between the nations of Europe. This will, in part, account for Mozart's master-piece not having been performed at the Italian Opera of Paris until 1811, nor in London until after the peace, in 1817. In the Paris cast, the part of Don Giovanni was assigned to a tenor, Tacchinardi; and when the opera was revived at the same theatre (which was not until nine years afterwards), Tacchinardi was replaced by Garcia.

The first "Don Giovanni" who appeared in London, was the celebrated baritone, Ambrogetti. Among the other distinguished singers who have appeared as "Don Giovanni," with great success, may be mentioned Nourrit, the tenor; Lablache (in 1832), before he had identified himself with the part of "Leporello;" Tamburini, and I suppose I must now add, Mario; though this great artist has been seen and heard to more advantage in other characters. The last great "Don Giovanni" known to the present generation was Signor Tamburini. It is a remarkable fact, well worth the consideration of managers, who are inclined to take liberties with Mozart's master-piece, that when Garcia, the tenor, appeared in London as "Don Giovanni," after Ambrogetti, the baritone, he produced comparatively but little effect; though Garcia was one of the most accomplished musicians, and, probably, the very best singer of his day.

Without going back again to the original cast, I may notice among the most celebrated Donna Annas, Madame Ronzi de Begnis, Mademoiselle Sontag, Madame Grisi, Mademoiselle Sophie Cruvelli, and Mademoiselle Titiens.

Among the Zerlinas, Madame Fodor, Madame Malibran, Madame Persiani[77 - Madame Alboni has appeared as Zerlina, and sings the music of this, as of every other part that she undertakes, to perfection; but she is not so intimately associated with the character as the other vocalists mentioned above.], and Madame Bosio.

DON GIOVANNI

Among the Don Ottavios, Rubini and Mario.

Porto is said to have been particularly admirable as Masetto, and Angrisani and Angelini as the commandant.

Certainly, no one living has heard a better Leporello than Lablache.

Mr. Ebers tells us, in his "Seven Years of the King's Theatre," that Don Giovanni was brought out by Mr. Ayrton in 1817, "in opposition to a vexatious cabal," and "in despite of difficulties of many kinds which would have deterred a less decided and persevering manager." Nevertheless, "it filled the boxes and benches of the theatre for the whole season, and restored to a flourishing condition the finances of the concern, which were in an almost exhausted state."

DIPLOMATISTS AND DANCERS

The war, so injurious to the Opera, had a still more disastrous effect on the ballet, a fact for which we have the authority of the manager and author from whom I have just quoted. "The procrastinated war," says Mr. Ebers, "which, until the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, had kept England and France in hostilities, had rendered the importation of dancers from the latter country almost impracticable." Mr. Waters, Mr. Ebers' predecessor, had repeatedly endeavoured to prevail on French dancers to come to England, "either with the congés, if attainable, or by such clandestine means as could be carried into effect." He failed; and we are told that his want of success in this respect was one cause of the disagreement between himself and the committee of the theatre, which led soon afterwards to his abandoning the management. Mr. Ebers, however, testifies from his own experience to the almost insuperable difficulty of inducing the directors of the French Opera to cede any of their principal performers even for a few weeks to the late enemies of their country. When the dancers were willing to accept the terms offered to them, it was impossible to obtain leave from the minister entrusted with the supreme direction of operatic affairs; if the minister was willing, then objections came from the ballet itself. It was necessary to secure the aid of the highest diplomatists, and the engagement of a few first dancers and coryphées was made as important an affair as the signing of a treaty of commerce. The special envoy, the Cobden of the affair, was Monsieur Boisgerard, an ex-officer in the French army under the Bourbons, and actually the second ballet-master of the King's Theatre; but all official correspondence connected with the negotiation had to be transmitted through the medium of the English ambassador at Paris to the Baron de la Ferté. Boisgerard arrived in Paris furnished with letters of introduction from the five noblemen who at that time formed a "committee of superintendence" to aid Mr. Ebers in the management of the King's Theatre, and directed all his attention and energy towards forming an engagement with Bigottini and Noblet, the principal danseuses, and Albert, the premier danseur of the French Opera. In spite of his excellent recommendations, of the esteem in which he was himself held by his numerous friends in Paris, and of the interest of a dancer named Deshayes, who appears to have readily joined in the conspiracy, and who was afterwards rewarded for his aid with a lucrative engagement as first ballet-master at the London Opera House – in spite of all these advantages it was impossible, for some time, to obtain any concessions from the Académie. To begin with, Bigottini, Noblet and Albert refused point blank to leave Paris. M. Boisgerard, however, as a ballet-master and a man of the world, understood that this was intended only as an invitation for larger offers; and finally all three were engaged, conditionally on their congés being obtained from the directors of the theatre. Now the real difficulty began; now the influence of the five English noblemen was brought to bear; now despatches were interchanged between the British ambassador in Paris and the Baron de la Ferté, intendant of the royal theatres; now consultations took place between the said intendant and the Viscount de la Rochefoucault, aide-de-camp of the king, entrusted with the department of fine arts in the ministry of the king's household; and between the said artistic officer of the king's household and Duplanty, the administrator of the Royal Academy of Music, and of the Italian Opera. The result of all this negotiation was, that the administration first hesitated and finally refused to allow Mademoiselle Bigottini to visit England on any terms; but, after considerable trouble, the French agents in the service of Mr. Ebers obtained permission for Albert and Noblet to accept engagements for two months, – it being further arranged that, at the expiration of that period, they should be replaced by Coulon and Fanny Bias. Albert was to receive fifty pounds for every night of performance, and twenty-five pounds for his travelling expenses. Noblet's terms were five hundred and fifty pounds for the two months, with twenty-five pounds for expenses. Coulon and Bias were each to receive the same terms as Noblet. Three other dancers, Montessu, Lacombe, and Mademoiselle de Varennes, were at the same time given over to Mr. Ebers for an entire season, and he was allowed to retain all his prisoners – that is to say, those members of the Académie, with Mademoiselle Mélanie at their head, whom previous managers had taken from the French prior to the friendly and pacific embassy of M. Boisgerard. An attempt was made to secure the services of Mademoiselle Elisa, but without avail. M. and Mademoiselle Paul entered into an agreement, but the administration refused to ratify it; otherwise, with a little encouragement, Mr. Ebers would probably have engaged the entire ballet of the Académie Royale.

MADEMOISELLE NOBLET

Male dancers have, I am glad to think, never been much esteemed in England; and Albert, though successful enough, produced nothing like the same impression in London which he was in the habit of causing in Paris. Mademoiselle Noblet's dancing, on the other hand, excited the greatest enthusiasm, and the subscribers made all possible exertions to obtain a prolongation of her congé when the time for her return to the Académie arrived. Noblet's performance in the ballet of Nina (of which the subject is identical with that of Paisiello's opera of the same name) is said to have been particularly admirable, especially for the great dramatic talent which she exhibited in pourtraying the heroine's melancholy madness. Nina was announced for Mademoiselle Noblet's benefit, on a night not approved by the Lord Chamberlain – either because it interfered with some of the court regulations, or for some other reason not explained. The secretary to the committee of the Opera was directed to address a letter to the Chamberlain, representing to him how inconvenient it would be to postpone the benefit, as the congé of the bénéficiaire was now on the point of expiring. Lord Hertford, with becoming politeness, wrote the following letter, which shows with what deep interest the graceful dancer inspired even those who knew her only by reputation. The letter was addressed to the Marquis of Ailesbury, one of the members of the operatic committee.

"My dear Lord, – I have this moment (eleven o'clock) received your letter, which I have sent to the Chamberlain's office to Mr. Mash; and as Mademoiselle Noblet is a very pretty woman as I am told, I hope she will call there to assist in the solicitation which interests her so much. Not having been for many years at the opera, except for the single purpose of attending his majesty, I am no judge of the propriety of her request or the objections which may arise to the postponement of her benefit for one day at so short a notice. I hope the fair solicitress will be prepared with an answer on this part of the subject, as it is always my wish to accommodate you; and I remain most sincerely your very faithful servant,

    "INGRAM HERTFORD."

"Manchester Square,

April 29th, 1821."