In this opera we must consider especially the high inspiration which breathes through it, the powerful emotions which it reveals, and not pause at Spontini's somewhat embarrassed formulas and mediocre methods. What tenderness in the first duo of Licinius and Cinna, Unis par l'amitiè; what anguish in the supplication of Julia, Oh! des infortunès dèesse tutèlaire; what passion in the air Impitoyable dieux, and what sweet resignation in the cavatina, Les Dieux prendront pitiè..! The last song, Adieu mes tendres sœurs, is as sadly expressive as the hymn Fille du ciel is full of religious sentiment, and this series of magnificent pages is crowned by that imposing finale of the second act, which was at that time a work of genius. And yet, when "La Vestale" was revived at the Opéra in 1854, three years after Spontini's death, it was played only eight times, making a total of 213 performances in Paris. When "Ferdinand Cortez" was played again in 1840, it lived through only six performances, making a total of 248 in Paris. After all, Spontini, with his great melodic qualities and rare dramatic instinct, only continued in the path which Gluck had laid out, and was in no sense an innovator. Thus he exercised no influence on musicians who followed him, while he stood by and saw powerful rivals revolutionize musical art and reform the public taste.
He raged and stormed when people talked to him of the "fashion"; but here he was helpless, for musical taste had totally changed in twenty years. While he was still in Prussia, he proposed to the administration of the Opéra to go to Paris and direct a revival of "Ferdinand Cortez," with the denouement as he had arranged it for Berlin, and, after a suit gained at first, then lost, against the director of the Opéra, Duponchel, to prevent him from playing that opera again in its original form, he was obliged to submit to the pitiful and fatal revival of 1840. But if he had gained his point, he would have found himself confronted with entirely new preferences on the part of the public, for since his departure there had been a complete revolution at the Opéra, under the influence of Rossini and Meyerbeer. "William Tell," "Robert le Diable," and "The Huguenots," not to mention "La Muette de Portici," coming one year before "William Tell," had struck a fatal blow at ancient lyric tragedy. The public, weary of antique heroes, of Greeks and of Romans, desired something a little less formal, more animated and real. They wanted dramas concerning times more nearly approaching their own, and therefore more interesting to them. The music also had completely changed in character; it allowed of a much richer instrumentation, a search after picturesque or historic color, a variety in the melody and dramatic expression which had never occurred to Spontini.
And yet, after this revolution was an accepted fact, Spontini, quite blinded by his phenomenal self-love, delivered himself of the following sentiments to Richard Wagner, when the two composers met at Dresden in 1844: "After Gluck, it is I who have made a grand revolution with 'La Vestale'; I have introduced the augmentation of the sixth in harmony, and the big drum in the orchestra. With 'Cortez' I have taken a step forward; I have taken three steps with 'Olympia,' and a hundred with 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen.' After that I might have composed 'The Athenians,' an excellent poem, but I have renounced it, despairing of excelling myself. Now how do you imagine that it is possible for anybody to invent anything new when I, Spontini, realize that I am unable to surpass my greater works? And furthermore it is very evident that since 'La Vestale,' not a note of music has been written that has not been stolen from me." Was it possible to show a greater blindness in the face of such works as "William Tell" and "The Huguenots," or to give a more erroneous estimate of himself, ranging his works in the exact inverse order of their worth? Poor Spontini, who was so unfortunate as to outlive his glory, and see "unworthy rivals" all about him, bearing off the laurels!
SPONTINI'S PIANO IN THE MUSEUM OF THE PARIS OPERA HOUSE.
From a photograph made specially for this work.