The first reply with which Garcia was met is worth recording. The directors of the Italian Opera of Paris informed him that “only masterpieces could be performed at their theatre, and that “Il Barbiere,” a work of secondary merit, by an author almost unknown, was not worthy of being presented to the Parisian public.”
Garcia, however, was of a different opinion; and in renewing his engagement for the year following, made it a special condition that the “Barber” should be brought out. Accordingly in the autumn of the following year, 1819, this “work of secondary merit” was actually represented.
The audience must have been delighted; but several critics were not. One thought that Figaro’s cavatina was “wanting in character!” and added, with super-journalistic absurdity, that “the composer might have made much more out of the air of “La Calunnia.” Another said of it that “its success would serve to enhance that of “Agnese,” a very celebrated opera of that day by Paer; a third, that Paisiello’s “Barber” ought to be given, and with particular care, so that the triumph of the old master over his competitor “might be rendered not more sure, but more striking.”
The hint was meant to be acted upon, and Paisiello’s veteran “Barber,” supported only by stringed instruments, was brought out to crush the vigorous young “Barber” of Rossini, full of life, and with musical instruments of all kinds to depend upon. Paisiello had been the favourite Italian composer of the Empire (the Emperor, according to Paisiello’s own naive observation, liked his music “because it did not prevent his thinking of other things);” but his “Barber” had grown old and feeble apparently, without anyone suspecting the change.
Three times this respectable but unattractive musical invalid was brought forth; the third time there was scarcely anyone to meet him; and Paisiello’s “Barber” was not heard of again, until, only a few years ago, he was introduced to the public of “Les Fantaisies Parisiennes,” not as the possible competitor of anyone, but merely as an interesting relic of a past age.
In the meanwhile Rossini’s “Barber” had been reproduced, to be followed by “Il Turco in Italia,” “La Pietra del Paragone,” and “La Gazza Ladra.” With the general public Rossini’s music was now in the highest favour, and “La Gazza Ladra,” like “Il Barbiere,” drew crowded audiences.
The late M. Berlioz, whose antipathy to Rossini’s music was so great as to be absolutely unintelligible to those who have not heard M. Berlioz’s music, had not at that time the ear—I mean, of course, the literary ear—of the French public. Otherwise, without delaying Rossini’s triumph, he certainly would have increased the number of Rossini’s enemies.
“If,” he afterwards said, “it had been in my power to place a barrel of powder under the Salle Louvois and blow it up, during the representation of “La Gazza Ladra” or “Il Barbiere,” with all that it contained, I certainly should not have failed to do so.”
This was worse than the young Milanese drumhater, who wished to murder Rossini, but Rossini only, for his overture to “La Gazza Ladra.”
Rossini insisted on being introduced to the eccentric student of Milan. Had he known of Berlioz’s existence he would have wanted to cultivate his intimate acquaintance.