If the natural instincts of despotic governments have always led them to favour operatic performances, they have done so on the very reasonable condition that nothing against themselves or their allies, the priesthood, should be introduced into the works represented. Thus “Le Prophète” becomes “L’Assedio di Gand” at St. Petersburgh, “Lucrezia Borgia” “La Rinegata” at Rome, where the Italians at the Court of Pope Alexander the Sixth are metamorphosed into Turks.
Auber’s “Muette de Portici” and Donizetti’s “Martiri” were both proscribed at Naples (the “Muette” above all!). Even at Paris the performances of “Gustave,” after the first production of the work, were suddenly stopped; and Verdi, treating the same subject for the San Carlo, was forced by the Neapolitan censorship to make the action of the piece take place at Boston in the United States.
Several dramas had been suggested to the Roman censorship, when at last the unpolitical plot of the “Barber of Seville” was proposed and accepted. The censor (who could have known little of Beaumarchais) thought it impossible such a subject could be made a vehicle for the introduction of political allusions.
All, however, that Rossini wanted was a well-planned “book” for musical purposes, and he found precisely what suited his genius in the “Barber of Seville.”
In a literary point of view, the “Marriage of Figaro” is no doubt superior to its predecessor the “Barber;” but notwithstanding the eminently lyrical character of the page in the former work, the “Barber of Seville” is the best adapted for musical setting. It was as a pamphlet, rather than as a comedy, that “Le Mariage de Figaro” obtained its immense success in Paris, and Figaro’s wit cannot be reproduced in music. Gaiety, however, is as much a musical as a literary quality, and the gaiety of Beaumarchais’ versatile irrepressible hero is admirably expressed, with even increased effect, in Rossini’s “Barbiere.”
It would be rendering no service to Rossini to compare him with Mozart, whom he himself regarded as the greatest of dramatic composers.[12] But Rossini’s genius is very much akin to that of Beaumarchais; whereas that of Mozart (to the disadvantage certainly of Beaumarchais) was not. Rossini is Beaumarchais in music; Beaumarchais is not Mozart in literature.
No wonder that “Le Barbier de Séville” has been found so eminently suitable for musical treatment. Beaumarchais, who had strong views on the subject of the musical drama, and who was himself a good musician,[13] had in the first instance designed it as a libretto.
The subject of “Le Barbier de Séville” is manifestly taken from Molière’s “Sicilien;” but the bare skeleton of the drama, as Beaumarchais himself points out, is common to innumerable works.
“An old man[14] is in love with his ward, and proposes to marry her; a young man succeeds in forestalling him, and the same day makes her his wife under the very nose and in the house of the guardian.” That is the subject of the “Barber of Seville,” capable of being made with equal success into a tragedy, a comedy, a drama, an opera, &c. What but that is Molière’s “Avare”?—what but that is “Mithridates”? The genus to which a piece belongs depends less upon the fundamental nature of the subject than upon the details and the manner in which it is presented.
Beaumarchais goes on to say what his original intention had been in regard to the simple subject of a ward carried away by her lover from beneath the nose of her guardian. “How polite of you,” a lady had said to him, “to take your piece to the Théâtre Français, when I have no box except at the Italian Theatre! Why did you not make an opera of it? They say it was your first idea. The piece is well suited to music.”