The author of “Le Barbier de Séville” explains why he abandoned his original intention. He had doubts on the subject of the form and general treatment of opera which, to the neglect of the melodic portion of the work, ought, he considered, to be assimilated to the spoken drama of real life; (the end of which theory, carried out to its extreme consequences, would be to substitute recitative for singing, speaking for recitative—annihilation of the musical drama, in short).
Five years afterwards, in the year 1780, Paisiello proved practically how well Beaumarchais’ “Barbier de Séville” was adapted to musical setting. Beaumarchais heard it, and was much pleased. What would his delight have been could he have listened to the “Barbiere” of Rossini—and with Adelina Patti in the part of Rosina!
Rossini was not one of those unconscious men of genius who are unable to judge of the merit of their own works. He Certainly never expressed too high an opinion of them, and latterly used to say that his music had grown old—as if the “Barber of Seville” could grow old. But he knew the “Barber” to be one of his happiest, as it certainly was one of his most spontaneous, productions; and whichever of his works he may have considered the best, he thought the “Barber” the most likely to endure.
“The third act of ‘Otello,’” he once said, “the second act of ‘Guillaume Tell,’ and the whole of ‘Il Barbiere,’ will perhaps live;”[15] and there are reasons why, independently of its musical worth, the “Barber” will in all probability still be played when the few other operas of Rossini which still keep the stage are no longer represented. It is composed on a firm scaffolding, unlike that of “Guillaume Tell,” which very soon broke down, and has never been put together again in a durable dramatic form. The libretto has not to contend with the impression left by an unapproachable masterpiece on the same subject, as in the case of “Otello.” Finally, the comedy on which it is founded is not only a masterpiece in a purely dramatic sense, it is moreover essentially a drama for music, and for just such music as Rossini loved to write, and wrote to perfection. There is nothing more felicitous in all operatic setting than Basilio’s air, the crescendo of which exists as much in Beaumarchais’s prose as in Rossini’s music.
Indeed, Don Basile’s little essay on the efficacy of calumny, read for the first time by any one already acquainted with Rossini’s musical version, would seem to have been directly suggested by the music. The elegance and distinction of Almaviva are the same in the opera as in the comedy; and all the gaiety of Beaumarchais’s “Figaro” lives again in Rossini’s music, in a sublimated form.
Rossini was not so fond of writing prefaces as Beaumarchais; but he departed from his ordinary rule in the case of “The Barber,” and has told us the exact circumstances under which it occurred to him to take for his subject an admirable comedy which Paisiello had already made into an opera thirty-five years before.
Paisiello’s opera had been played all over Europe, and it has been mentioned that the curious in musical antiquities may from time to time hear it even now at the Fantaisies Parisiennes. It is not nearly so full of music as Rossini’s work, but it contains seven very interesting pieces,—Almaviva’s solo; Don Basile’s air—a setting of the passage on calumny, as in the modern “Barbiere;” an air for Bartholo; a comic trio, in which two fantastic and episodical characters (wisely omitted by Rossini), La Jeunesse and L’Eveillé, respectively sneeze and yawn in presence of Rosina’s guardian; a very ingenious trio, based on the incidents of the letter; a duet, in which the disguised Almaviva, on arriving to give his music lesson, is received by Don Bartholo; and a quintet, in which Don Basilio, accused of fever, is sent hastily to bed—the buona sera scene, which Rossini took good care to preserve.
Rossini is said to have felt rather embarrassed when the impresario of the Argentina opera told him that the governor of Rome saw no objection to his setting “The Barber of Seville” to music. Not that any rule of etiquette forbade him to take a subject already treated by another composer; Metastasio’s best libretti have been set over and over again by innumerable composers. From the very beginning of opera, the legend of Orpheus, the story of Dido’s abandonment, have been treated by almost all composers, including Rossini himself, who composed cantatas on both these subjects. Piccinni and Sacchini had both composed music twice to the “Olimpiade;” and Paisiello did not enjoy, probably did not claim, any special right of property in Beaumarchais’ “Barbier de Séville.”
Nevertheless, Paisiello had put his mark on the work. His “Barbiere” was celebrated throughout Italy, and Rossini thought it only polite on his part as a young beginner (he was then twenty-three years of age) to write to the venerable maestro (Paisiello was seventy-four years of age), to ask his permission to re-set “The Barber.”
The venerable maestro, who had not been over-pleased at the success of “Elisabetta,” thought it would be a good plan to let his youthful rival attack a subject which, according to Paisiello, had already received its definite musical form, and wrote to him from Naples, giving him full permission to turn Beaumarchais’ “Barbier de Seville” once more into an opera.