History of the Opera from its Origin in Italy to the present Time / With Anecdotes of the Most Celebrated Composers and Vocalists of Europe

by H. Sutherland Edwards

MARCELLO'S SATIRE.

"The modern composer is told that there is no occasion for his being master of the principles of composition, a little practice being all that is necessary. He need not know anything of poetry, or give himself any trouble about the meaning of the words, or even the quantities of the syllables. Neither is it necessary that he should study the properties of the stringed or wind instruments; if he can play on the harpsichord, it will do very well. It will, however, be not amiss for him to have been for some years a violin-player, or music-copier for some celebrated composer, whose original scenes he may treasure up, and thus supply himself with subjects for his airs, recitations, or choruses. He will by no means think of reading the opera through, but will compose it line by line; using for the airs, motivi which he has lying by him; and if the words do not go well below the notes, he will torment the poet till they are altered to his mind. When the singer comes to a cadence, the composer will make all the instruments stop, leaving it to the singer to do whatever he pleases. He will serve the manager on very low terms, considering the thousands of crowns that the singers cost him:—he will, therefore, content himself with an inferior salary to the lowest of these, provided that he is not wronged by the bear, the attendants or the scene-shifters being put above him. When he is walking with the singers, he will always give them the wall, keep his hat in his hand, and remain a step in the rear; considering that the lowest of them, on the stage, is at least a general, a captain of the guards, or some such personage. All the airs should be formed of the same materials—long divisions, holding notes, and repetitions of insignificant words, as amore, amore, impero, impero, Europa, Europa, furori, furori, orgoglio, orgoglio, &c.; and therefore the composer should have before him a memorandum of the things necessary for the termination of every air. This will enable him to eschew variety, which is no longer in use. After ending a recitative in a flat key, he will suddenly begin an air in three or four sharps; and this by way of novelty. If the modern composer wishes to write in four parts, two of them must proceed in unison or octave, only taking care that there shall be a diversity of movement; so that if the one part proceeds by minims or crotchets, the other will be in quavers or semiquavers. He will charm the audience with airs, accompanied by the stringed instruments pizzicati or con sordini, trumpets, and other effective contrivances. He will not compose airs with a simple bass accompaniment, because this is no longer the custom; and, besides, he would take as much time to compose one of these as a dozen with the orchestra. The modern composer will oblige the manager to furnish him with a large orchestra of violins, oboes, horns, &c., saving him rather the expense of double basses, of which there is no occasion to make any use, except in tuning at the outset. The overture will be a movement in the French style, or a prestissimo in semiquavers in a major key, to which will succeed a piano in the minor; concluding with a minuet, gavot or jig, again in the major key. In this manner the composer will avoid all fugues, syncopations, and treatment of subjects, as being antiquated contrivances, quite banished from modern music. The modern composer will be most attentive to all the ladies of the theatre, supplying them with plenty of old songs transposed to suit their voices, and telling each of them that the Opera is supported by her talent alone. He will bring every night some of his friends, and seat them in the orchestra; giving the double bass or violoncello (as being the most useless instruments) leave of absence to make room for them.

MARCELLO'S SATIRE.

"The singer is informed that there is no occasion for having practised the solfeggio; because he would thus be in danger of acquiring a firm voice, just intonation, and the power of singing in tune; things wholly useless in modern music. Nor is it very necessary that he should be able to read or write, know how to pronounce the words or understand their meaning, provided he can run divisions, make shakes, cadences, &c. He will always complain of his part, saying that it is not in his way, that the airs are not in his style, and so on; and he will sing an air by some other composer, protesting that at such a court, or in the presence of such a great personage, that air carried away all the applause, and he was obliged to repeat it a dozen times in an evening. At the rehearsals he will merely hum his airs, and will insist on having the time in his own way. He will stand with one hand in his waistcoat and the other in his breeches' pocket, and take care not to allow a syllable to be heard. He will always keep his hat on his head, though a person of quality should speak to him, in order to avoid catching cold; and he will not bow his head to anybody, remembering the kings, princes, and emperors whom he is in the habit of personating. On the stage he will sing with shut teeth, doing all he can to prevent a word he says from being understood, and, in the recitatives, paying no respect either to commas or periods. While another performer is reciting a soliloquy or singing an air, he will be saluting the company in the boxes, or listening with musicians in the orchestra, or the attendants; because the audience knows very well that he is Signor So-and-so, the musico, and not Prince Zoroastro, whom he is representing. A modern virtuoso will be hard to prevail on to sing at a private party. When he arrives he will walk up to the mirror, settle his wig, draw down his ruffles, and pull up his cravat to show his diamond brooch. He will then touch the harpsichord very carelessly, and begin his air three or four times, as if he could not recollect it. Having granted this great favour, he will begin talking (by way of gathering applause) with some lady, telling her stories about his travels, correspondence and professional intrigues; all the while ogling his companion with passionate glances, and throwing back the curls of his peruke, sometimes on one shoulder, sometimes on the other. He will every minute offer the lady snuff in a different box, in one of which he will point out his own portrait; and will show her some magnificent diamond, the gift of a distinguished patron, saying that he would offer it for her acceptance were it not for delicacy. Thus he will, perhaps, make an impression on her heart, and, at all events, make a great figure in the eyes of the company. In the society of the literary men, however eminent, he will always take precedence, because, with most people, the singer has the credit of being an artist, while the literary man has no consideration at all. He will even advise them to embrace his profession, as the singer has plenty of money as well as fame, while the man of letters is very apt to die of hunger. If the singer is a bass, he should constantly sing tenor passages as high as he can. If a tenor, he ought to go as low as he can in the scale of the bass, or get up, with a falsetto voice, into the regions of the contralto, without minding whether he sings through his nose or his throat. He will pay his court to all the principal cantatrici and their protectors; and need not despair, by means of his talent and exemplary modesty, to acquire the title of a count, marquis, or chevalier.

"The prima donna receives ample instructions in her duties both on and off the stage. She is taught how to make engagements and to screw the manager up to exorbitant terms; how to obtain the "protection" of rash amateurs, who are to attend her at all times, pay her expenses, make her presents, and submit to her caprices. She is taught to be careless at rehearsals, to be insolent to the other performers, and to perform all manner of musical absurdities on the stage. She must have a music-master to teach her variations, passages and embellishments to her airs; and some familiar friend, an advocate or a doctor, to teach her how to move her arms, turn her head, and use her handkerchief, without telling her why, for that would only confuse her head. She is to endeavour to vary her airs every night; and though the variations may be at cross purposes with the bass, or the violin part, or the harmony of the accompaniments, that matters little, as a modern conductor is deaf and dumb. In her airs and recitatives, in action, she will take care every night to use the same motions of her hand, her head, her fan, and her handkerchief. If she orders a character to be put in chains, and addresses him in an air of rage or disdain, during the symphony she should talk and laugh with him, point out to him people in the boxes, and show how very little she is in earnest. She will get hold of a new passage in rapid triplets, and introduce it in all her airs, quick, slow, lively, or sad; and the higher she can rise in the scale, the surer she will be of having all the principal parts allotted her," &c., &c.

Enough, however, of this excellent but somewhat fatiguing irony; and let me conclude this chapter with a few words about the librettists of the 18th century. The best libretti of Apostolo Zeno, Calsabigi and Metastasio, such as the Demofonte, the Artaserse, the Didone, and above all the Olimpiade, have been set to music by dozens of composers. Piccinni, and Sacchini each composed music twice to the Olimpiade; Jomelli set Didone twice and Demofonte twice; Hasse wrote two operas on the libretto of the Nittetti, two on that of Artemisia, two on Artaserse, and three on Arminio. The excellence of these opera-books in a dramatic point of view is sufficiently shown by the fact that many of them, including Metastasio's Didone, Issipile and Artaserse have been translated into French, and played with success as tragedies. The Clemenza di Tito, by the same author (which in a modified form became the libretto of Mozart's last opera) was translated into Russian and performed at the Moscow Theatre during the reign of the Empress Elizabeth.

In the present day, several of Scribe's best comic operas have been converted into comic dramas for the English stage, while others by the same author have been made the groundwork of Italian libretti. Thus Le Philtre and La Somnambule are the originals of Donizetti's Elisir d'amore and Bellini's Sonnambula. Several of Victor Hugo's admirably constructed dramas have also been laid under contribution by the Italian librettists of the present day. Donizetti's Lucrezia is founded on Lucrèce Borgia; Verdi's Ernani on Hernani, his Rigoletto on Le Roi s'amuse.

LIBRETTI.

Our English writers of libretti are about as original as the rest of our dramatists. The Bohemian Girl is not only identical in subject with La Gitana, but is a translation of an unpublished opera founded on that ballet and written by M. St. George. The English version is evidently called The Bohemian Girl from M. St. George having entitled his manuscript opera La Bohémienne, and from Mr. Bunn having mistaken the meaning of the word. It is less astonishing that the manager of a theatre should commit such an error than that no one should hitherto have pointed it out. The heroine of the opera is not a Bohemian, but a gipsey; and Bohemia has nothing to do with the piece, the action taking place in some portion of the "fair land of Poland," which, as the librettist informs us, was "trod by the hoof;" though whether in Russian, in Austrian or in Prussian Poland we are not informed. La Zingara has often been played at Vienna, and I have seen La Gitana at Moscow. Probably the Austrians lay the scene of the drama in the Russian, and the Russians in the Austrian, dominions. Fortunately, Mr. Balfe has given no particular colour to the music of his Bohemian Girl, which, as far as can be judged from the melodies sung by her, is as much (and as little) a Bohemian girl as a gipsey girl, or a Polish girl, or indeed any other girl. The libretti of Mr. Balfe's Satanella, Rose of Castille, Maid of Honour, Bondsman, &c., are all founded on French pieces. Mr. Wallace's Maritana, is, I need hardly say, founded on the French drama of Don Cæsar de Bazan. But there is unmistakeable originality in the libretto of this composer's Lurline, though the chief incidents are, of course, taken from the well-known German legend on which Mendelsohn commenced writing his opera of Loreley.

NATIONAL STYLES.