At last, when the “Barber of Seville” had been decided upon by the manager and the censor, Rossini would only consent on condition that an entirely new libretto should be prepared for him. The construction of the new libretto was entrusted to Sterbini, the poet of “Torvaldo e Dorliska,” and as no time was to be lost, the composer suggested that he should take up his quarters in “the house assigned to Luigi Zamboni.”
In this remarkable establishment, the composer, the librettist, and the original Figaro lived together for, say a fortnight, while the masterpiece was being manufactured.
For materials Rossini and his poet had Beaumarchais’ comedy and the libretto of Paisiello’s opera; and this time, by way of exception, instead of composing the music piece by piece as the words were furnished to him, Rossini commenced by asking Sterbini to read to him Beaumarchais’ comedy from beginning to end.
“Il Barbiere” has quite the effect of an improvisation corrected and made perfect; and it was, indeed, produced under the most favourable circumstances for unity and completeness. Rossini had made Sterbini promise to remain with him until the opera was finished, and as rapidly as the latter wrote the verses the former set them to music.
Paisiello’s distribution of scenes was not adopted—was purposely avoided; though the great situations in the comedy are of course reproduced in both the operas. In the new version of the “Barber” the grotesque episodical figures of “la Jeunesse” and “l’Eveillé” which Paisiello had retained, are very properly omitted. Where recitative would have been employed by the old master, Rossini has substituted dialogue sustained by the orchestra, the current of melody which flows throughout the work being here transferred from the voices to the instruments. There are more musical pieces, and there is twice or three times as much music in the new “Barber” as in the old.
Fortunately Sterbini was an amateur poet unburdened with literary pride, and prepared to carry out the composer’s ideas. Rossini not only kept up with the librettist, but sometimes found himself getting in advance. He then suggested words for the music which he had already in his head. Some of the best pieces in “Il Barbiere,” notably that of “La Calunnia,” seem to have been directly inspired by Beaumarchais’ eloquent, impetuous prose.
On the other hand, the famous “Largo al Fattotum,” though equally replete with the spirit of Beaumarchais, may be said to owe something of its rhythm, and therefore something of its gaiety, to Sterbini’s rattling verses. The librettist was in a happy vein that morning, and thought he had over-written himself. He told Rossini to take what verses suited him and throw the rest aside. Rossini took them all and set them to the rapid, elastic light-hearted melody, which at once stamps the character of Figaro.
In the room where the two inventors were at work a number of copyists were employed, to whom the sheets of music were thrown one by one as they were finished. Doubtless the chief lodger, Luigi Zamboni, looked in from time to time to see how the part of Figaro was getting on. Probably too the spirited impresario called occasionally to inquire how the work generally was progressing.
But whether or not Rossini received visits he certainly did not return them. Without taking it for granted, as M. Azevedo does, that the joint authors for thirteen days and nights had scarcely time to eat: and slept, when they could no longer keep their eyes open, on a sofa (they would have saved time in the end by taking their clothes off and going to bed), we may be quite sure that “Il Barbiere” is the result of one continuous effort—if to an act of such rapid spontaneous production the word effort can be applied.
Rossini is said to have told some one, that during the thirteen days which he devoted to the composition of the “Barber” (if Rossini really said “thirteen days” there is of course an end to the question of time), he did not get shaved.