R.A. Streatfeild - The Opera

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Founded as it was in avowed imitation of the tragedy of the Greeks,
opera had never deigned to touch modern life at any point. For a long
time the subjects of Italian operas were taken solely from classical
legend, and though in time librettists were compelled to have recourse
to the medieval romances, they never ventured out of an antiquity more
or less remote. Thus it is easy to conceive the delight of the
music-loving people of Naples when they found that the opera which they
adored could be enjoyed in combination with a mirthful and even farcical
story, interpreted by characters who might have stepped out of one of
their own market-places. But, apart from the freedom and variety of the
subjects with which it dealt, the development of opera buffa gave rise
to an art-form which is of the utmost importance to the history of
opera--the concerted finale. Nicolo Logroscino (1700-1763) seems to have
been the first composer who conceived the idea of working up the end of
an act to a musical climax by bringing all his characters together and
blending their voices into a musical texture of some elaboration.
Logroscino wrote only in the Neapolitan dialect, and his works had
little success beyond the limits of his own province; but his invention
was quickly adopted by all writers of opera buffa, and soon became an
important factor in the development of the art. Later composers
elaborated his idea by extending the finale to more than one movement,
and by varying the key-colour. Finally, but not until after many years,
it was introduced into opera seria, when it gave birth to the idea of
elaborate trios and quartets, which were afterwards to play so important
a part in its development. Logroscino's reputation was chiefly local,
but the works of Pergolesi (1710-1736) and Jomelli (1714-1774) made the
Neapolitan school famous throughout Europe. Both these composers are now
best known by their sacred works, but during their lives their operas
attained an extraordinary degree of popularity. Both succeeded equally
in comedy and tragedy, but Jomelli's operas are now forgotten, while
Pergolesi is known only by his delightful intermezzo 'La Serva Padrona,'
This diverting little piece tells of the schemes of the chambermaid,
Serpina, to win the hand of her master, Pandolfo. She is helped by
Scapin, the valet, who, disguised as a captain, makes violent love to
her, and piques the old gentleman into proposing, almost against his
will. 'La Serva Padrona' made the tour of Europe, and was received
everywhere with tumultuous applause. In Paris it was performed in 1750,
and may be said at once to have founded the school of French opera
comique. Rousseau extolled its beauty as a protest against the arid
declamation of the school of Lulli, and it was the subject of one of the
bitterest dissensions ever known in the history of music. But the
'Guerre des Bouffons,' as the struggle was called, proved one thing,
which had already been satisfactorily decided in Italy, namely, that
there was plenty of room in the world for serious and comic opera at the
same time.

There had been a kind of opera comique in France for many years, a
species of musical pantomime which was very popular at the fairs of St.
Laurent and St. Gervais. This form of entertainment scarcely came
within the province of art, but it served as a starting-point for the
history of opera comique, which was afterwards so brilliant. The success
of the Italian company which performed the comic operas of Pergolesi,
Jomelli, and others, fired the French composers to emulation, and in
1753 the first French opera comique, in the strict sense of the word,
'Le Devin du Village,' by the great Rousseau, was performed at the
Academie de Musique. Musically the work is feeble and characterless, but
the contrast which it offered to the stiff and serious works of the
tragic composers made it popular. Whatever its faults may be, it is
simple and natural, and its tender little melodies fell pleasantly upon
ears too well accustomed to the pomposities of Rameau and his school. At
first lovers of opera comique in Paris had to subsist chiefly upon
translations from the Italian; but in 1755 'Ninette a la Cour,' a dainty
little work written by a Neapolitan composer, Duni, to a French
libretto, gained a great success. Soon afterwards, Monsigny, a composer
who may well be called the father of opera comique, produced his first
work, and started upon a career of success which extended into the next
century.

The early days of opera comique in Paris were distracted by the jealousy
existing between the French and Italian schools, but in 1762 peace was
made between the rival factions, and by process of fusion the two became
one. With the opening of the new Theatre de l'Opera Comique--the Salle
Favart, as it was then called--there began a new and brilliant period
for the history of French art. It is a significant fact, and one which
goes far to prove how closely the foundation of opera comique was
connected with a revolt against the boredom of grand opera, that the
most successful composers in the new _genre_ were those who were
actually innocent of any musical training whatsoever. Monsigny
(1729-1817) is a particularly striking instance of natural genius
triumphing in spite of a defective education. Nothing can exceed the
thinness and poverty of his scores, or their lack of all real musical
interest; yet, by the sureness of his natural instinct for the stage, he
succeeded in writing music which still moves us as much by its brilliant
gaiety as by its tender pathos. 'Le Deserteur,' his most famous work, is
a touching little story of a soldier who deserts in a fit of jealousy,
and is condemned to be shot, but is saved by his sweetheart, who begs
his pardon from the king. Much of the music is almost childish in its
_naivete_, but there is real pathos in the famous air 'Adieu, Louise,'
and some of the lighter scenes in the opera are touched off very
happily.

The musical education of Gretry (1741-1831) was perhaps more elaborate
than that of Monsigny, but it fell very far short of profundity. His
music excels in grace and humour, and he rarely treated serious subjects
with success. Such works as 'Le Tableau Parlant,' 'Les Deux Avares,' and
'L'Amant Jaloux' are models of lightness and brilliancy, whatever may be
thought of their musicianship. 'Richard Coeur de Lion' is the one
instance of Gretry having successfully attempted a loftier theme, and
it remains his masterpiece. The scene is laid at the castle of
Duerrenstein in Austria, where Richard lies imprisoned, and deals with
the efforts of his faithful minstrel Blondel to rescue him. In this work
Gretry adapted his style to his subject with wonderful versatility. Much
of the music is noble and dignified in style, and Blondel's air in
particular, 'O Richard, O mon roi,' has a masculine vigour which is
rarely found in the composer's work. But as a rule Gretry is happiest in
his delicate little pastorals and fantastic comedies, and, for all their
slightness, his works bear the test of revival better than those of many
of his more learned contemporaries. Philidor (1726-1797) was almost more
famous as a chess-player than as a composer. He had the advantage of a
sound musical education under Campra, one of the predecessors of Rameau,
and his music has far more solid qualities than that of Gretry or
Monsigny. His treatment of the orchestra, too, was more scientific than
that of his contemporaries, but he had little gift of melody, and he was
deficient in dramatic instinct. He often visited England, and ended by
dying in London. One of the best of his works, 'Tom Jones,' was written
upon an English subject. Philidor was popular in his day, but his works
have rarely been heard by the present generation.

With Gretry the first period of opera comique may be said to close;
indeed, the taste of French audiences had begun to change some years
before the close of the eighteenth century. The mighty wave of the
Revolution swept away the idle gallantries of the sham pastoral, while
Ossian newly discovered and Shakespeare newly translated opened the eyes
of cultivated Frenchmen to the possibilities of poetry and romance. At
the same time, the works of Haydn and Mozart, which had already crossed
the frontier, disturbed preconceived notions about the limits of
orchestral colouring, and made the thin little scores of Gretry and his
contemporaries seem doubly jejune. The change in public taste was
gradual, but none the less certain. The opening years of the nineteenth
century saw a singular evolution, if not revolution, in the history of
opera comique.

Meanwhile opera in Italy was pursuing its triumphant course. The
introduction of the finale brought the two great divisions of opera into
closer connection, and most of the great composers of this period
succeeded as well in opera buffa as in opera seria. The impetus given to
the progress of the art by the brilliant Neapolitan school was ably
sustained by such composers as Nicolo Piccinni (1728-1800), a composer
who is now known principally to fame as the unsuccessful rival brought
forward by the Italian party in Paris in the year 1776 in the vain hope
of crushing Gluck. Piccinni sinks into insignificance by the side of
Gluck, but he was nevertheless an able composer, and certainly the
leading representative of the Italian school at the time. He did much to
develop the concerted finale, which before his day had been used with
caution, not to say timidity, and was so constant in his devotion to
the loftiest ideal of art that he died in poverty and starvation.
Cimarosa (1749-1801) is the brightest name of the next generation. He
shone particularly in comedy. His 'Gli Orazi e Curiazi,' which moved his
contemporaries to tears, is now forgotten, but 'Il Matrimonio Segreto'
still delights us with its racy humour and delicate melody. The story is
simplicity itself, but the situations are amusing in themselves, and are
led up to with no little adroitness, Paolino, a young lawyer, has
secretly married Carolina, the daughter of Geronimo, a rich and
avaricious merchant. In order to smooth away the difficulties which must
arise when the inevitable discovery of the marriage takes place, he
tries to secure a rich friend of his own, Count Robinson, for Geronimo's
other daughter, Elisetta. Unfortunately Robinson prefers Carolina, and
proposes himself as son-in-law to Geronimo, who is of course delighted
that his daughter should have secured so unexceptionable a _parti_,
while the horrified Paolino discovers to his great dissatisfaction that
the elderly Fidalma, Geronimo's sister, has cast languishing eyes upon
himself. There is nothing for the young couple but flight, but
unfortunately as they are making their escape they are discovered, and
their secret is soon extorted. Geronimo's wrath is tremendous, but in
the end matters are satisfactorily arranged, and the amiable Robinson
after all expresses himself content with the charms of Elisetta. 'Il
Matrimonio Segreto' was produced at Vienna in 1792, and proved so very
much to the taste of the Emperor Leopold, who was present at the
performance, that he gave all the singers and musicians a magnificent
supper, and then insisted upon their performing the opera again from
beginning to end. Cimarosa was a prolific writer, the number of his
operas reaching the formidable total of seventy-six; but, save for 'Il
Matrimonio Segreto,' they have all been consigned to oblivion. Although
he was born only seven years before Mozart, and actually survived him
for ten years, he belongs entirely to the earlier school of opera buffa.
His talent is thoroughly Italian, untouched by German influence, and he
excels in portraying the gay superficiality of the Italian character
without attempting to dive far below the surface.

Even more prolific than Cimarosa was Paisiello (1741-1815), a composer
whose works, though immensely popular in their day, did not possess
individuality enough to defy the ravages of time. Paisiello deserves to
be remembered as the first man to write an opera on the tale of 'Il
Barbiere di Siviglia.' This work, though coldly received when it was
first performed, ended by establishing so firm a hold upon the
affections of the Italian public, that when Rossini tried to produce his
opera on the same subject, the Romans refused to give it a hearing.

Paer (1771-1839) belongs chronologically to the next generation, but
musically he has more in common with Paisiello than with Rossini. His
principal claim to immortality rests upon the fact that a performance
of his opera 'Eleonora' inspired Beethoven with the idea of writing
'Fidelio'; but although his serious efforts are comparatively worthless,
many of his comic operas are exceedingly bright and attractive. 'Le
Maitre de Chapelle,' which was written to a French libretto, is still
performed with tolerable frequency in Paris.

It is hardly likely that the whirligig of time will ever bring Paisiello
and his contemporaries into popularity again in England, but in Italy
there has been of late years a remarkable revival of interest in the
works of the eighteenth century. Some years ago the Argentina Theatre in
Rome devoted its winter season almost entirely to reproductions of the
works of this school. Many of these old-world little operas, whose very
names had been forgotten, were received most cordially, some of
them--Paisiello's 'Scuffiara raggiratrice,' for instance--with genuine
enthusiasm.

Wars and rumours of wars stunted musical development of all kinds in
Germany during the earlier years of the eighteenth century. After the
death of Keiser in 1739, the glory departed from Hamburg, and opera
seems to have lain under a cloud until the advent of Johann Adam Hiller
(1728-1804), the inventor of the Singspiel. Miller's Singspiele were
vaudevilles of a simple and humorous description interspersed with
music, occasionally concerted numbers of a very simple description, but
more often songs derived directly from the traditions of the German
Lied. These operettas were very popular, as the frequent editions of
them which were called for, prove. Yet, in spite of their success, it
was felt by many of the composers who imitated him that the combination
of dialogue and music was inartistic, and Johann Friedrich Reichardt
(1752-1814) attempted to solve the difficulty by relegating the music to
a merely incidental position and conducting all the action of the piece
by means of the dialogue. Nevertheless the older form of the Singspiel
retained its popularity, and, although founded upon incorrect aesthetic
principles--for no art, however ingenious, can fuse the convention of
speech and the convention of song into an harmonious whole--was the
means in later times of giving to the world, in 'Die Zauberfloete' and
'Fidelio,' nobler music than had yet been consecrated to the service of
the stage.

CHAPTER IV

MOZART

Although Mozart's (1756-1791) earliest years were passed at Salzburg,
the musical influences which surrounded his cradle were mainly Italian.
Salzburg imitated Vienna, and Vienna, in spite of Gluck, was still
Italian in its sympathies, so far at any rate as opera seria was
concerned. Mozart wrote his first opera, 'La Finta Semplice,' for
Vienna, when he was twelve years old. It would have been performed in
1768 but for the intrigues of jealous rivals and the knavery of an
impresario. It was not actually produced until the following year, when
the Archbishop of Salzburg arranged a performance of it in his own city
to console his little _protege_ for his disappointment at Vienna. It is
of course an extraordinary work when the composer's age is taken into
account, but intrinsically differs little from the thousand and one
comic operas of the period, Mozart's first German opera, 'Bastien und
Bastienne,' though written after 'La Finta Semplice,' was performed
before it. It was given in 1768 in a private theatre belonging to Dr.
Anton Meszmer, a rich Viennese bourgeois. It follows the lines of
Miller's Singspiele closely, but shows more originality, especially in
the orchestration, than 'La Finta Semplice.' The plot of the little work
is an imitation of Rousseau's 'Devin du Village,' telling of the
quarrels of a rustic couple, and their reconciliation through the good
offices of a travelling conjurer. It was significant that the Italian
and German schools should be respectively represented in the two infant
works of the man who was afterwards to fuse the special beauties of each
in works of immortal loveliness. Mozart's next four operas were, for the
most part, hastily written--'Mitridate, Re di Ponto' (1770) and 'Lucio
Silla' (1775) for Milan, "La Finta Giardiniera' (1775) for Munich, and
'Il Re Pastore' (1775) for Salzburg. They adhere pretty closely to the
conventional forms of the day, and, in spite of the beauty of many of
the airs, can scarcely be said to contain much evidence of Mozart's
incomparable genius. In 1778 the young composer visited Paris, where he
stayed for several months. This period may be looked upon as the
turning-point in his operatic career. In Paris he heard the operas of
Gluck and Gretry, besides those of the Italian composers, such as
Piccinni and Sacchini, whose best works were written for the French
stage. He studied their scores carefully, and from them he learnt the
principles of orchestration, which he was afterwards to turn to such
account in 'Don Giovanni' and 'Die Zauberfloete,' The result of his
studies was plainly visible in the first work which he produced after
his return to Germany, 'Idomeneo.' This was written for the Court
Theatre at Munich, and was performed for the first time on the 29th of
January, 1781. The libretto, by the Abbe Giambattista Varesco, was
modelled upon an earlier French work which had already been set to music
by Campra. Idomeneo, King of Crete, on his way home from the siege of
Troy, is overtaken by a terrific storm. In despair of his life, he vows
that, should he reach the shore alive, he will sacrifice the first human
being he meets to Neptune. This proves to be his son Idamante, who has
been reigning in his stead during his absence. When he finds out who the
victim is--for at first he does not recognise him--he tries to evade
his vow by sending Idamante away to foreign lands. Electra the daughter
of Agamemnon, driven from her country after the murder of her mother,
has taken refuge in Crete, and Idomeneo bids his son return with her to
Argos, and ascend the throne of the Atreidae. Idamante loves Ilia, the
daughter of Priam, who has been sent to Crete some time before as a
prisoner from Troy, and is loved by her in return. Nevertheless he bows
to his father's will, and is preparing to embark with Electra, when a
storm arises, and a frightful sea monster issues from the waves and
proceeds to devastate the land. The terror-stricken people demand that
the victim shall be produced, and Idomeneo is compelled to confess that
he has doomed his son to destruction. All are overcome with horror, but
the priests begin to prepare for the sacrifice. Suddenly cries of joy
are heard, and Idamante, who has slain the monster single-handed, is
brought in by the priests and people. He is ready to die, and his father
is preparing to strike the fatal blow, when Ilia rushes in and entreats
to be allowed to die in his place. The lovers are still pleading
anxiously with each other when a subterranean noise is heard, the statue
of Neptune rocks, and a solemn voice pronounces the will of the gods in
majestic accents. Idomeneo is to renounce the throne, and Idamante is to
marry Ilia and reign in his stead. Every one except Electra is vastly
relieved, and the opera ends with dances and rejoicings.

The music of 'Idomeneo' is cast for the most part in Italian form,
though the influence of Gluck is obvious in many points, particularly in
the scene of the oracle. Here we find Mozart in his maturity for the
first time; he has become a man, and put away childish things. In two
points 'Idomeneo' is superior to any opera that had previously been
written--in the concerted music (the choruses as well as the trios and
quartets), and in the instrumentation. The chorus is promoted from the
part which it usually plays in Gluck, that of a passive spectator. It
joins in the drama, and takes an active part in the development of the
plot, and the music which it is called upon to sing is often finer and
more truly dramatic than that allotted to the solo singers. But the
chorus had already been used effectively by Gluck and other composers;
it is in his solo concerted music that Mozart forges ahead of all
possible rivals. The power which he shows of contrasting the conflicting
emotions of his characters in elaborate concerted movements was
something really new to the stage. The one quartet in Handel's
'Radamisto' and the one trio in his 'Alcina,' magnificent as they are,
are too exceptional in their occurrence to be quoted as instances, while
the attempts of Rameau and his followers to impose dramatic significance
into their concerted music, though technically interesting, do but
faintly foreshadow the glory of Mozart. The orchestration of 'Idomeneo,'
too, is something of the nature of a revelation. At Munich, Mozart had
at his disposal an excellent and well-trained band, and this may go far
to explain the elaborate care which he bestowed upon the instrumental
side of his opera. The colouring of the score is sublime in conception
and brilliant in detail. Even now it well repays the closest and most
intimate study. 'Idomeneo' is practically the foundation of all modern
orchestration.

Mozart's next work was very different both in scope and execution. It
has already been pointed out that the two first works which the
composer, as a child, wrote for the stage, followed respectively the
Italian and German models. Similarly, he signalised his arrival at the
full maturity of his powers by producing an Italian and German
masterpiece side by side. 'Die Entfuehrung aus dem Serail' was written
for the Court Theatre at Vienna, in response to a special command of the
Emperor Joseph II. It was produced on July 13, 1782. The original
libretto was the work of C.F. Bretzner, but Mozart introduced so many
alterations and improvements into the fabric of the story that, as it
stands, much of it is practically his own work.

The Pasha Selim has carried off a Christian damsel named Constanze, whom
he keeps in close confinement in his seraglio, in the hope that she may
consent to be his wife. Belmont, Constanze's lover, has traced her to
the Pasha's country house with the assistance of Pedrillo, a former
servant of his own, now the Pasha's slave and chief gardener. Belmont's
attempts to enter the house are frustrated by Osmin, the surly
major-domo. At last, however, through the good offices of Pedrillo, he
contrives to gain admission in the character of an architect. Osmin has
a special motive for disliking Pedrillo, who has forestalled him in the
affections of Blondchen, Constanze's maid; nevertheless he is beguiled
by the wily servant into a drinking bout, and quieted with a harmless
narcotic. This gives the lovers an opportunity for an interview, in
which the details of their flight are arranged. The next night they make
their escape. Belmont gets off safely with Constanze, but Pedrillo and
Blondchen are seen by Osmin before they are clear of the house. The hue
and cry is raised, and both couples are caught and brought back. They
are all condemned to death, but the soft-hearted Pasha is so much
overcome by their fidelity and self-sacrifice that he pardons them and
sends them away in happiness.

Much of 'Die Entfuehrung' is so thoroughly and characteristically
German, that at first sight it may be thought surprising that it should
have succeeded so well in a city like Vienna, which was inclined to look
upon the Singspiel as a barbarian product of Northern Germany. But there
is a reason for this, and it is one which goes to the root of the whole
question of comic opera. Mozart saw that Italian comic operas often
succeeded in spite of miserable libretti, because the entire interest
was concentrated upon the music, and all the rest was forgotten. The
German Singspiel writers made the mistake of letting their music be, for
the most part, purely incidental, and conducting all the dramatic part
of their plots by dialogue. Mozart borrowed the underlying idea of the
opera buffa, applied it to the form of the Singspiel, which he kept
intact, and produced a work which succeeded in revolutionising the
history of German opera. But, apart from the question of form, the music
of 'Die Entfuehrung' is in itself fine enough to be the foundation even
of so imposing a structure as modern German music. The orchestral forces
at Mozart's disposal were on a smaller scale than at Munich; but though
less elaborate than that of 'Idomeneo,' the score of 'Die Entfuehrung' is
full of the tenderest and purest imagination. But the real importance of
the work lies in the vivid power of characterisation, which Mozart here
reveals for the first time in full maturity. It is by the extraordinary
development of this quality that he transcends all other writers for
the stage before or since. It is no exaggeration to say that Mozart's
music reveals the inmost soul of the characters of his opera as plainly
as if they were discussed upon a printed page. In his later works the
opportunities given him of proving this magical power were more frequent
and better. The libretto of 'Die Entfuehrung' is a poor affair at best,
but, considering the materials with which he had to work, Mozart never
accomplished truer or more delicate work than in the music of Belmont
and Constanze, of Pedrillo, and greatest of all, of Osmin.

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