# A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Spontini, Gasparo

​SPONTINI, Gasparo Luigi Pacifico, born Nov. 14, 1774, at Majolati, near Jesi (the birth-place of Pergolesi), of simple peasants. Three of his brothers took orders, and Gasparo was also destined for the priesthood. An uncle on the father's side took charge of the delicate child of eight, and gave him elementary instruction. It happened that a new organ was to be built for this uncle's church, and the builder, who had been sent for from Recanati, took up his abode for the time at the parsonage. Here he brought his harpsichord, and found an earnest listener in Spontini, who would try to pick out for himself what he had heard, whenever the organ-builder was absent. The latter noticed the boy's talent, and advised his uncle to have him educated as a musician; but to this the priest would by no means consent, resorting indeed to harsh measures to drive the music out of him. The result was that Spontini ran away to Monte san Vito, where he had another uncle of a milder disposition, who procured him music-lessons from a certain Quintiliani. In the course of a year the uncle at Jesi relented, took back his nephew, and had him well grounded by the local musicians.
In 1791 his parents took him to Naples, where he was admitted into the Conservatorio de' Turchini. [See Naples.] His masters for counterpoint and composition were Sala and Tritto, for singing, Tarantino. In the Neapolitan Conservatories a certain number of the more advanced pupils were set to teach the more backward ones. These 'monitors,' as we should say, were called maestrini or maestricelli. In 1795 Spontini became a candidate for the post of fourth maestrino, but the examiners gave the preference to another pupil. This seems to have roused the lad to special industry, and in a short time he was appointed first maestrino. His exercise for the competition of 1795 has been preserved, and is now in the archives of the Real Collegio di Musica at Naples. It must be the earliest of his compositions now in existence.
Spontini had already composed some cantatas and church-music performed in Naples and the neighbourhood, and in 1796 had an opportunity of attempting opera. The invitation came from one of the directors of the Teatro Argentina in Rome, who had been pleased with some of Spontini's music which he had heard in Naples. The professors seem to have refused him leave to go, so he left the Conservatoire by stealth, and reaching Rome quickly composed 'I puntigli delle donne' with brilliant success. He was readmitted into the Turchini at the intercession of Piccinni, who had lived at Naples since his return in 1791, and gave Spontini valuable advice with regard to composition, particularly for his next opera, 'L'Eroismo ridicolo.' This also was produced in Rome (1797), as well as a third, 'Il finto Pittore' (1798). Next followed three operas for Florence, all in 1798. Meantime Naples had begun to fix its attention on Spontini. 'L'Eroismo ridicolo' (one-act) was given at the Teatro Nuovo during the Carnival of 1798, and reproduced in 2 acts as 'La finta Filosofa' at the same house in the summer of 1799. In the Carnival of 1800 the same theatre brought out a new work by the industrious composer, 'La fuga in maschera.' It is doubtful if he was present at the performance; for on Dec. 21, 1798, the Court, alarmed at the advance of the French troops, took flight to Palermo, and Cimarosa, who as maestro di capella should have gone too, refusing to stir, Spontini was put into his place, and during 1800 composed for the court in Palermo no less than 3 operas, in the facile and rapid style of a true disciple of the Neapolitan school. This is specially worth noting, as he afterwards completely changed in this respect, and elaborated most slowly and carefully the very works on which his European fame rests. In Palermo he also began to teach singing, but towards the end of 1800 was forced to leave, as the climate was affecting his health. After supplying more operas for Rome and Venice, he paid a visit to Jesi, and then took ship at Naples for Marseilles. His aim was Paris, and there he arrived in 1803.
From Lulli downwards all Italian composers seem to have been impelled to try their fortunes in the French capital. And, with the solitary exception of Gluck, we may say that each fresh development of French opera has originated with an Italian. Invariably, however, these foreign artists have had to encounter the onslaughts of the national jealousy. The Bouffonists, Gluck, Cherubini, all went through the same experience; it was now Spontini's turn. The work by which he introduced himself at the Théâtre Italien (as arranged in 1801), 'La finta Filosofa,' was, it is true, well received; but when he entered on the special domain of the French opéra-comique he was roughly disillusioned. His first work of the kind, 'Julie, ou le pot de fleurs' (March, 1804), failed, and though remodelled by the composer and revived in 1805, could not even then keep the boards. The second, 'La petite Maison' (June 23, 1804), was hissed off. This fate was not wholly undeserved. Spontini had fancied that the light, pleasing, volatile style, which suited his own countrymen, would equally please the Parisians. The composition of 'La petite Maison' (3 acts) occupied him only two months, ​and 'Julie' considerably less. I only know the latter, which was also produced (without success) in Berlin, Dec. 5, 1808. Here and there some isolated bit of melody recalls the composer of the 'Vestale,' but that is all. Fétis remarks that the forms of this opera are identical with those of the earlier Neapolitans, Guglielmi, Cimarosa, and Paisiello. This is true; but it must be added that Spontini by no means attains to the sprightliness and charm of his predecessors. The melodies, though very attractive, are often trivial. Stronger work than this was needed to beat the French composers, with Méhul at their head, and Boieldieu, who had already written the 'Calife de Bagdad,' in their ranks. Spontini, however, was not discouraged. During this period Fétis met him occasionally at a pianoforte-maker's, and was struck with his invincible confidence in himself. He was making a livelihood by giving singing-lessons.
Seeing that he had no chance of making an impression with his present style he broke away from it entirely, and tried a new ideal. His very next opera, 'Milton' (Nov. 27, 1804), a little work in one act, is of an entirely different character, the melodies more expressive, the harmony and orchestration richer, the whole more carefully worked out, and the sentiment altogether more earnest. But the most interesting point in the score is the evidence it affords of Mozart's influence. One is driven to the conclusion that Spontini had now for the first time made a solid acquaintance with the works of the German masters. As Cherubini saw in Haydn, so Spontini henceforth saw in Mozart (and shortly afterwards in another German composer) a pattern of unattainable excellence. Even in old age he used to speak of Don Juan as 'that immortal chef-d'œuvre,' and it was one of the very few works besides his own which he conducted when director-general at Berlin. No. 3 in 'Milton' (C major, 3-8) is in many passages so like 'Vedrai, carino' as to be obviously due to Mozart's direct influence. Milton's fine hymn to the Sun (no. 4) has something of the mild solemnity which Mozart contrived to impart to the 'Zauberflöte,' and also to his compositions for the Freemasons. The most remarkable number is the quintet (no. 7). Here warmth and nobility of melody, impressive declamation, rich accompaniment, and charm of colour are all united. Such a piece as this is indeed scarcely to be found in his later works. With the Neapolitan school it has nothing in common, but is for the most part drawn from the Mozartean fount of beauty, with traces of that grandeur and nobility so emphatically his own. The change of style which separates his later works from his earlier ones is, at any rate in this quintet, already complete. In other pieces of the opera the Neapolitan is still discernible, as for instance in the crescendo, which became so celebrated in Rossini's works, though known to others besides Spontini before Rossini's day.
'Milton' took at once with the French, and made its way into Germany, being produced in Berlin (translation by Treitschke) March 24, 1806, Weimar, Dresden, and Vienna.
The writer of the libretto, Etienne Jouy, played a considerable part in Spontini's life. He was present at the performance of 'La petite Maison,' but its complete fiasco (the work of a jealous clique) had no effect upon him. He saw in Spontini a man of great dramatic talent, and found in the despised work a host of beauties of the first rank. Meeting the composer the following morning, he offered him a libretto of his own, which Spontini, in no way disheartened by his failure, immediately accepted. This libretto was not 'Milton,' but 'La Vestale.' It was originally intended for Cherubini, but he could not make up his mind to compose it, and after a long delay returned it. To Spontini it afforded the means of ranking himself at once with the first operatic composers of the day.
How 'Milton' and the 'Vestale' stand to each other in matter of date it is impossible to ascertain. That the latter was composed before 'Milton' was put on the stage is not probable, since in that case the two must have been written within less than six months. What probably happened was this an opportunity offered towards the close of 1804 of producing a small opera at the Théâtre Feydeau, and Spontini then broke off the longer work upon which he was already engaged to avail himself of this new chance. He may not have been sorry too to make a preliminary trial of his new style upon the public. On the other hand, we know for certain that the score of the 'Vestale' was finished in 1805. Jouy says that it took three years to overcome the opposition to its production, and the first performance took place Dec. 15, 1807.
He was now fortunately in favour with the Empress Josephine—to whom he dedicated the score of 'Milton'—and was appointed her chamber-composer—'Compositeur particulier,' etc. A cantata, 'L'Eccelsa Gara,' performed Feb. 8, 1806, at the fêtes given in honour of Austerlitz, helped to increase this goodwill, which proved of vital importance to Spontini in maintaining his ground against the opposition of the Conservatoire. To such a length was this opposition carried that at one of the Concerts Spirituels in Holy Week, 1807, an oratorio of his was yelled off the stage by the students. Meantime, however, through the Empress's patronage, 'La Vestale' was in rehearsal at the Opéra. But so prejudiced were the artists against the work that the rehearsals went on amid ridicule and opposition, both inside and outside the theatre. Some foundation for this no doubt did exist. ​Even in the 'Finta Filosofa' the orchestra was said to have drowned the voices. Whether this was justified—even from an Italian point of view—I cannot say, not knowing the work, but there is some ground for it in the 'Vestale,' which also fell short in many other points. Fétis attended the rehearsals, and is an unimpeachable witness on this point. Spontini's thoughts were throughout fresh and significant, but, not having before attempted lyric tragedy, he did not in all cases succeed in giving them a satisfactory form. Then began an interminable altering and remodelling on his part; the most trying experiences at rehearsals did not discourage him from again and again re-casting passage after passage, until he had hit on the best possible form. This indefatigable polishing and experimenting became henceforth one of his characteristics, and instead of diminishing, as he acquired command of his means, as might have been expected, each new work seemed to strengthen the habit. People are still living in Berlin who have seen him at work in this way. He would alter a passage four and five times, each time pasting-on the new version, so that at last the score became quite bulky, and not unfrequently, after all this experimenting, he would revert to the original form.
The rehearsals were at length brought to a close after endless trouble, when, at the last moment, the performance was all but postponed, by a command from the Emperor that Lesueur's 'La Mort d'Adain,' which had long been accepted, should be given before it. When however the copyist was about to set to work, by some accident Lesueur's score could not be found, and thus Spontini secured precedence for the 'Vestale.' Its success was the most brilliant imaginable, and it long remained a favourite with the Parisians, having been performed 200 times as early as the year 1824. The caste on the first night was as follows: Licinius, Nourrit; Cinna, Lais; the High-Priest, Dérivis; the Chief-Augur, Bonel; A Consul, Martin; Julia, Mme. Branchu; the Chief Vestal, Mme. Arinand. Both composer and poet received permission to dedicate the work to the Empress. A higher distinction than this however awaited Spontini. Napoleon had founded a prize to be given every ten years to the new opera which should have made the greatest success within that period. The time of the award drew near, Méhul, Gossec, and Grétry were the judges, and their bestowal of the prize on the 'Vestale,' instead of on Lesueur's 'Bardes' was a tacit acknowledgement that the organised opposition to the foreigner was at an end. The opera soon became known beyond France. The first performance at San Carlo in Naples (to an Italian translation by Giovanni Schmidt) took place Sept. 8, 1811, with Isabella Colbran as Julia. It made a great sensation, and Spontini might perhaps have found a worthy successor among his own countrymen in Nicola Antonio Manfroce, had this talented young man not been carried off by an early death. On the title-page of the 'Vestale' Spontini styles himself Chamber-composer to the Empress, and Maestro di capella to the Conservatorio of Naples. Whether this title was a new honour, or whether he brought it with him to Paris I know not. Vigano adapted the 'Vestale' as a ballet, and in this form also it was universally popular in Italy.—In Berlin the first performance took place Jan. 18, 1811, to a translation by Herklots. It was given at Munich on Jan. 14, and Würzburg Jan. 10, 1812.
Jouy drew the material of his poem, the action of which takes place in the year of Rome 269, from Winckelmann's 'Monumenti antichi inediti.' It still ranks as one of the best librettos of the present century, and justly so. As for the music it is so entirely new, and so utterly unlike the Neapolitan style, that it is not to be wondered at if the malicious story that Spontini was not the composer of it, has occasionally been believed. Not that this could have happened if 'Milton' had been better known, for in that little opera the metamorphosis of his style is already complete. His new style Spontini did not evolve entirely from his own resources. Of the influence of Mozart we have already spoken, but that of Gluck, with whose works he became acquainted in Paris, was more important still. 'Iphigénie in Aulis' is said to have been the opera the first hearing of which showed him his future path. Not that Gluck was in his eyes a greater master than Mozart. Some years later, at a banquet given in Spontini's honour at Berlin, some one said in his praise that as a composer he had fulfilled all the requirements of a master of the musico-dramatic art, when he exclaimed hastily, 'No, it is only Mozart who has done that.' But still it is obvious that Gluck was nearer of kin to him than Mozart. With Gluck he shares that touch of grandeur, the refined melancholy of which is often so peculiarly attractive, though as a rule the depth of Gluck's sentiment is beyond the reach of the Italian master. As with Gluck too the dramatic gift preponderates in Spontini over the purely musical. He is in this respect remarkable among Italian composers, who though all endowed with a certain instinct for stage-effect, yet prefer to set their operas to concert-music. The moment that personal vindictiveness against Spontini ceased it could not but be acknowledged that 'La Vestale' was full of beauties, and that it seized the audience by its grand melodies and fiery outbursts, its depth of passion and truth of expression, its genuinely tragic style, and the singularly happy ​way in which the scenes and characters were individualised. On the other hand there were great shortcomings which could not be ignored. These chiefly lay—outside a certain monotony in the movements—in the harmony. When Berlioz afterwards ventured to maintain that scarcely two real faults in harmony could be pointed out in the score, he only showed how undeveloped was his own sense of logical harmony. It is in what is called unerring instinct for the logic of harmony that Spontini so sensibly falls short in 'La Vestale.'
This no doubt arose from the fact that his early training in Naples was insufficient to develop the faculty, and that when he had discovered the direction in which his real strength lay it was too late to remedy the want. Zelter, who in reference to Spontini never conceals his narrowmindedness, made a just remark when he said that the composer of the Vestale would never rise to anything much higher than he was then, if he were over 25 at the time that it was written. He never really mastered a great part of the material necessary for the principal effects in his grand operas. His slow and laborious manner of writing, too, which he retained to the last, though creditable to his conscientiousness as an artist, is undoubtedly to be attributed in part to a sense of uncertainty.
Between the 'Vestale,' which we take to have been finished in 1805, and Spontini's next opera four years elapsed. To this period apparently belongs a collection of 6 songs, with accompaniment for PF. or harp, entitled 'Sensations douces, mélancoliques et douloureuses, exprimées en vers par M. de G.—L., et en musique avec accompagnement de Piano ou Harpe par Gaspare Spontini Maître de Chapelle du Conservatoire de Naples. Dediées au souvenir [de] Delie. Propriété des Auteurs. A Paris. Se vend chez l'Auteur de la musique. Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere, no. 6.' Some special series of events seems to have given rise to these pieces, but whether affecting the poet or the composer is not discoverable. The first two are called 'Sentimens d'amour,' the 3rd and 4th 'Regrets d'Absence,' and the last two 'Plaintes sur la tombe.' As might be expected they are all very theatrical, and exhibit many awkwardnesses in the harmony. No. 4 is the best, and its opening phrase deserves quoting as a specimen of refined melancholy:
His next opera was 'Fernand Cortez,' the first performance of which took place Nov. 28, 1809, with Lavigne and Mme. Branchu in the principal parts. The libretto was again by Jouy, and not byEsménard, who merely made some alterations and additions. Napoleon took an interest in the production of 'Cortez,' from an idea that it might influence public opinion in favour of his plans for the Spanish war, then in progress. As soon as the preparations began Jouy was warned by the Minister of the Interior to introduce into the piece more distinct allusions to the topics of the day. He was specially to strengthen the contrast between the humane views of Cortez and the fanaticism of the Mexicans, and thus suggest a comparison between the liberal-minded French and the bigotted Spaniards of the day. Jouy declining to make these alterations, the Minister proposed Esménard for the work. Napoleon was present at the first performance, but the result did not fully answer his expectations. Spontini had thrown so much life into the character of the Spaniards, and had made them so bold, patriotic, and fearless of death, that the sympathies of the audience were enlisted in behalf of Spaniards in general, and Napoleon ran the risk of witnessing an exactly opposite effect to that which he intended. The success of the opera was very great, equalling if not exceeding that of the 'Vestale.' On the whole we should not be wrong in pronouncing 'Cortez' the more finished work of the two. The faults of harmony are fewer, the tendency (latterly so exaggerated) to pile up means in order to produce imposing effects is still kept within due bounds. Remarkable skill is shown in the treatment of the masses, and the construction of the larger dramatic forms. The martial tone demanded by the subject is well maintained throughout, the savage passions are delineated with an energy often startling, while some pieces are distinguished by grace and dignity. Throughout we are brought in contact with an individual artist, who has created for himself his own means of expression. The certainty of touch too in the different characters, especially Cortez, Amazily, and Telasco, is worthy of all praise. The way especially in which the opposite nature of the Spaniards and Mexicans is brought out shows consummate creative power. Here Spontini is seen to be a worthy successor of Gluck, who was the first to attempt this kind of problem in his 'Paris et Helene.' Gluck had many able successors, such as Winter in Germany and Méhul in France, but Spontini comes still nearer to the great model, and has in his turn served as an example for others. Neither Rossini's 'Guillaume Tell' nor Marschner's 'Templer und Jüdin' would have been quite what they are but for him.
The form in which we know 'Cortez' is not that in which it first appeared. After a long interval it was revived May 26, 1817, in an ​entirely new shape. Esménard was dead, and for the alterations in the poem Jouy was entirely responsible. The 3rd act now became the 1st, the 1st act the 2nd, and a part of the 2nd the 3rd; some passages were suppressed and others added, and the part of Montezuma was entirely new. Jouy had introduced Montezuma into his original sketch, but thinking the part weak and undramatic had omitted it in the first libretto. It now reappeared. The part of Amazily is simplified as regards her appearances, but the character is strengthened. In the earlier play love has stifled her patriotism, now she is divided between her lover and her country, producing a conflict of emotions truly dramatic. By putting the execution of the Spanish prisoners at the opening of the opera, and thus showing the Mexican people in all their savage barbarity, the poet hoped to dispose the audience more decidedly in favour of the victorious Spaniards, and to make the conquest of Mexico a clear necessity. But his success in this was not complete; the sympathies of the audience still wavered between the heroism of the conquerors and the misfortunes of the conquered. The reception of the music was as favourable as ever, but on the libretto opinions were divided. The delay in the appearance of Cortez till the 2nd act, was felt to lessen the interest in Amazily's love, Alvar's danger, and all that concerns the Spaniards. This is undeniably true, but on the other hand the 2nd act gains so immeasurably in strength that the loss is more than counterbalanced. More serious objections might be urged against the 3rd act, which after the exciting events of the first two inevitably falls flat; and this Spontini proposed to remedy by a third revision. In November 1823, the poet Théauleon came to Berlin to write the libretto of 'Alcidor,' and Spontini commissioned him to remodel the 3rd act, which he did as follows: Amazily falls into the power of the Mexican priests, who, in defiance of Montezuma, prepare to sacrifice her, but at the last moment Cortez appears with his Spaniards, and saves his love. This exciting scene, with most effective music, brings up the interest of the last act to the level of the others. The pianoforte score, arranged by F. Naue, and published by Hofmeister of Leipzig, gives the opera as it stood after this third and final revision. The full score came out in Paris in the fortieth year after Spontini's retirement from Berlin. The 3rd act in its second form may be found in Jouy's 'Œuvres completes,' vol. ii. p. 187.
In 1810 Spontini became conductor of the Italian opera, which was united with the Comédie Française under the title of 'Théâtre de l'Impératrice,' and located at the Odéon. He formed a distinguished company of singers, improved the orchestra, and threw more variety into the repertoire. One signal service was his production for the first time in Paris of 'Don Juan' in its original form. He remodelled Catel's 'Semiramide,' with fresh numbers of his own, and revived it with some success. He also instituted Concerts Spirituels, at which he successfully introduced such works as Mozart's Requiem, Haydn's Symphonies, and extracts from the 'Creation.' But he did not keep the conductorship long. Differences arose between himself and Alexandre Duval, the director of the theatre, and in 1812 Spontini was dismissed from his post by M. de Rémusat, surintendant of the Imperial theatres.
On the restoration of the Bourbons in 1814 Spontini was reinstated, but soon gave up the post to Catalani for a money consideration. His conduct as conductor of the opera does not give a favourable idea of his character. When Count Brühl was in Paris, Spontini was described to him by the managers of the Opéra as 'grasping and indolent; ill-natured, treacherous, and spiteful.' Catalani too always averred that he had treated her badly. Some, however, took a more favourable view, and maintained that he had been both zealous and successful in his efforts for the furtherance of art. Fétis believed that it was not Spontini but Duval who should have been dismissed in 1812. It is curious thus to find the same difference of opinion in Paris with regard to Spontini's character which was afterwards so noticeable in Berlin.
On the 30th May 1814, Louis XVIII became king of France, and in commemoration of the event Jouy and Spontini wrote a festival-opera in 2 acts called 'Pélage, ou le Roi de la Paix.' The first performance took place Aug. 23, 1814. The work is of no value, and must have been very quickly composed. The subject is idyllic, breathing only soft emotions, and therefore entirely contrary to the nature of Spontini's talent. The opera was dedicated to the king, who appointed Spontini his 'Dramatic composer in ordinary.' It is often said that Spontini's music displays the spirit of the age of Napoleon. The remark is true so far as the martial splendour, the vehement energy, the overpowering massive effect of his grand operas are concerned. In all this the spirit of the time is recognisable enough. But it resides in the music only; and it would be very wrong to conclude that Spontini himself was an adherent of Napoleon's politics or person. He was as little of an imperialist as Weber (notwithstanding his songs in the cause of liberty) was a democrat. Art and Politics are two distinct things, and if Spontini did do homage to Louis after enjoying the favour of Napoleon there is no need to blame him.
He next took part with Persuis, Berton, and Kreutzer in an opéra-ballet, 'Les Dieux rivaux,' produced June 21, 1816, in honour of the marriage of the Duc de Berri. Spontini's share was confined to two or three dances, and a song, 'Voici le Roi, Français fidèles,' of little value. Other ballet-music however, composed for Salieri's 'Danaïdes,' rises to the level of 'Cortez' and the 'Vestale.' The opera, revived with this addition Oct. 22, 1817, was enthusiastically received.
But these pièces d'occasion sink into insignificance before the grand opera 'Olympia,' 'imitated' ​by Briffaut and Dieulafoy from Voltaire's tragedy. Spontini took a most unusual length of time for the composition. He was at work upon the last act in December 1815, and yet the opera was not finished by January 1819. After so much trouble and pains he not unnaturally considered it his best work. 'This score,' he writes Nov. 27, 1819, 'must be ranked higher, for importance and range of subject, than those of La Vestale and Cortez'; and to this opinion he adhered, in spite of many proofs that the public judged otherwise. At the first performance (Paris, Dec. 15, 1819), a bitter disappointment awaited him, for the opera failed in spite of his numerous supporters, and of the generally favourable disposition of the Parisians towards him. Spontini however was not the man to throw up his cause for a first failure. The libretto was chiefly to blame. The writers had adhered too closely to Voltaire, without remembering the requirements of the music, or the established forms of Grand Opera. The tragical conclusion especially was objected to as an innovation. This was remedied first of all, and a happy ending substituted. By February, 1820, Spontini was at work on the revision, which he completed in less than a year, and the opera was produced in its new form, May 14, 1821, at Berlin. In 1822 it was again revised, the changes this time being in the airs for Olympic and Cassandre, the duet for the same in the first act, and a new scene with terzetto in the third. As this last is not included in the printed edition it looks as if the final form of the opera had not even yet been attained. Schlesinger of Berlin published a complete pianoforte-score in 1826. The opera was again put on the stage in Paris Feb. 28, 1826, and by March 15 it had already been played 6 times. Each time it pleased more, and at last Spontini was able to count it among his great triumphs. It was however only in Berlin, where he settled in 1820, that it kept a permanent place in the repertoire. It had a short run at Dresden and Darmstadt in 1822, and was proposed at Vienna, but the performance did not take place. The opera has now completely disappeared from musical life, a fate it shares with Cherubini's 'Medée.' That no attempts have been made to revive it must be attributed partly to the enormous demands which it makes on the dramatic and scenic resources of a theatre, and also to the fact that Spontini's operas are of an individual type and require a peculiar style of representation. The few living musicians who remember the performances of Spontini's operas in Berlin between 1820 and 1830 know the kind of interpretation he used to give of them—one which by no means lay on the surface. Dorn, in his 'Recollections,' says that at Leipzig in 1829 the final chorus in the 2nd act of the 'Vestale' was ridiculed as a mere waltz-tune. When Dorn undertook the direction of the opera, and had to conduct the 'Vestale,' he made such good use of his recollections of the way in which it was conducted by the composer, that the chorus in question was scarcely recognised, and all adverse comments were silenced. 'Another fifty years,' continues he, 'and the Spontini traditions will have disappeared, as the Mozart traditions have already done.' It would be more correct to say that both have disappeared. The Spontini traditions might possibly have lived longer had his work in Germany been more successful than it was. But there is enough to account for this, and more, in the unsettled condition of all stage matters in Germany for many years past.
'Olympie' and 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen'—written ten years later—stand alone among operas of the 19th century for grandeur of conception. True, in isolated scenes of the 'Huguenots' and the 'Prophète,' Meyerbeer approached his predecessor, but he never succeeded in creating a whole of such magnificent proportions. The unity of design is remarkable, each act seems to be cast in one mould; and this from the fact that musically the several scenes of each act run into each other in a much more marked manner than in 'Cortez' or the 'Vestale.' There is also, throughout, the closest connection between the music, the scenes on the stage, and the development of the plot—the cachet of the true dramatic artist. The principal characters are well defined, and the tone assigned to each at the start is skilfully maintained. The first entrances, always the most important moment in opera for fixing the character of a part, are always very significant. For instance, it is interesting to observe the entirely different nature of the music at the entrances of Olympia and of Statira. The latter, the principal character in the piece, has no rival, unless it be Cherubini's 'Medée,' or perhaps Gluck's 'Armide.' A sorrowful woman, burdened with horrible memories and burning for revenge, she is yet a Queen from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, and a heroine, as all must acknowledge, worthy of Alexander the Great. Bearing in mind the grandeur of the subject, and its background of history, the composer's choice of material does not seem exaggerated.
But these great qualities are accompanied by considerable defects. Apart from the falsified history of the plot, which might easily disturb a cultivated spectator in these days of accuracy, the happy conclusion weakens the interest in the fate of the chief characters. The part of Statira, at any rate, was far more consistent and homogeneous when the ending was tragic. The music, undeniably grandly sketched as a whole, lacks charm in the details. Spontini was not an instrumental composer. His overtures, dances, and marches, are in all cases music without any independent existence, simply intended to introduce or accompany. Instrumental music, from its immense plasticity and variety, is the best possible school for developing all the rich resources of the musical art; but ​in this school Spontini had never been properly disciplined, and the neglect makes itself felt in his larger dramatic forms. These are monotonous and wearisome, while his basses are poor, and his accompaniments wanting in variety. It seems strange that with his great reverence for Mozart—the great model in this respect also—he should never have been aware of this want in himself. His melodies lack plasticity, that bold free movement which is absolutely essential if the melody is to remain dominant over all the accumulated masses of sound. He has not sufficient command of language to have always ready to his hand suitable means of expression for the rapid changes of sentiment in the course of a scene. Nor has he the power of assigning the instrumental music its due share in the dramatic development. If all the work is done by the singing and acting, one is tempted to ask what is the object of all this overwhelming apparatus in the orchestra? The important part played by the instrumental music in an opera, that of preparing and elucidating the sentiments, making them subjectively more credible, and objectively clearer, this problem Spontini either did not grasp, or felt himself unable to solve. In all these respects he was far surpassed by Cherubini and Weber, each in his own line.
Whilst Spontini was busy in Paris composing 'Olympie,' the way was being prepared for the most important event in the second half of his life—his summons to Berlin. As no authentic account of the circumstances of his going there, or of his twenty-two years' sojourn and work in the Prussian capital, has yet been published, we must treat the subject somewhat in detail, from MS. authorities hitherto unused. King Frederic William III, during a visit of two months to Paris (March 31 to the beginning of June 1814), heard Spontini's operas several times, and was deeply impressed by them. Not only was 'Cortez' at once put in rehearsal at Berlin and produced Oct. 15, 1814, but the king, on the return of peace, occupied himself with various plans for improving the state of music in Prussia. An establishment for the promotion of church music was thought of; a Conservatoire for music and declamation was projected, like that at Paris, and, above all, fresh impulse was to be given to the Court Opera by engaging a conductor of acknowledged ability. For this last post Spontini was the man fixed upon. So far back as the autumn of 1814 proposals had been made to him at Vienna, offering him the then immense salary of 5000 thalers (£750) on condition of his furnishing two operas a year for Berlin. Spontini was inclined to accept, but the plan did not meet with the approval of the Intendant of the Royal theatre—Count Brühl, who had succeeded Iffland in Feb. 1815. Brühl's opinion was entitled to the more weight as there had scarcely ever been a theatrical manager in Germany who knew his business so well. He was himself an actor of great experience, had studied several parts at Weimar under Goethe's direction, had sung Sacchini's Œdipus in French, and taken other parts in grand operas at Rheinsberg, Prince Henry's palace. He had even played the horn for months together in the band. He was no inefficient scene-painter; had studied drawing with Genelli, and archæology with Hirt and Botticher, had devoted some time to architecture, and was personally acquainted with nearly all the important theatres in Germany, Paris, and London. Add to this his refined taste, ideal turn of mind, and high social position, and it will be seen that he possessed qualities rarely found united in the person of a theatrical manager. It is not to be supposed that Brühl ignored the advantage of having so distinguished an artist at the head of the Berlin opera. It was however by no means certain that Spontini had had the necessary practice as a conductor, for at Paris no composer conducts his own operas. His ignorance of German would not only make it difficult for him and his musicians to understand each other, but would also prevent his composing a German opera. As yet he had only composed two operas of acknowledged merit, and it was possible that he would not be able to supply two new ones each year; and if he were able, the price paid for them would be exorbitant, unless it were quite certain that as interpreted under his own direction they would mark a decided step in advance. At this point therefore the negotiations hung fire, until the king returned to Paris in July 1815, when he renewed his offer to Spontini in person, and accepted the dedication of a piece of military music. At his request Spontini sent a collection of his marches to Brühl, following it on Dec. 22, 1815, with a letter, in which he begged him to exert his influence in arranging the matter. This not availing, he got a personal appeal made to him from the Prussian embassy. On March 28, 1816, Brühl returned an evasive answer, and on Nov. 3 wrote decisively that the king had settled the affair adversely to Spontini's wishes, and that he must abandon with regret the pleasure of seeing him settled in Berlin.
The matter now appeared wholly at an end; the king having yielded to the representations of his Intendant. Spontini had at that time no settled appointment in Paris, beyond that of court-composer, and it is easy to understand how tempting so brilliant an offer from Berlin must have seemed. He now entered into a fresh connection with Naples, and received in the following year the title of maestro di capella to the King of the Two Sicilies. The French king also gave him a salary of 2000 francs, and thus all thoughts of Berlin seemed for the time to have vanished.
In 1817 King Frederic William came to Paris for the third time, heard 'Cortez' in its new form, was so delighted that he attended four representations, and directed that the score should be secured at once for Berlin. Spontini received the title of Premier maître de chapelle honoraire, and was permitted to dedicate to the king his grand 'Bacchanale,' composed for the 'Danaïdes.' This he was shrewd enough to arrange for a ​Prussian military band, introducing an air from the 'Vestale,' 'La paix est en ce jour la fruit de vos conquêtes.' To confirm himself in the king's favour he even composed a Prussian national anthem. This national hymn, composed by a born Italian and naturalised Frenchman, was completed between Nov. 25, 1817, and Oct. 18, 1818. The words, written by the king's private secretary J. F. L. Duncker, begin
Wo ist das Volk das kühn von That Der Tyrannei den Kopf zertrat.
On the latter date (the anniversary of the battle of Leipzig), Brühl had the work performed for the first time at the Berlin opera-house, and from 1820 to 1840 it was played every year on the king's birthday, August 3. A Volkslied, from inherent reasons, it never could become; but it has a certain chivalresque stateliness and distinction of its own. After the death of Frederic William III. it gradually disappeared from the musical life of Berlin. The king, however, decreed in March 1818 that the 'Vestale' should be performed every year on April 1, in remembrance of the first time he passed in Paris in 1814.
This year also ended without realising the king's project of attaching Spontini to his court. Spontini, aware that Brühl was opposed to his coming, contrived to carry on the negotiations through Major-General von Witzleben, an ardent admirer of his music, and the person who had suggested his composing the Prussian national anthem. The contract was at length drawn up in August 1819, and signed by the king on September 1. It provided that Spontini should receive the titles of chief Capellmeister, and General Director of Music, with an additional one of 'Superintendant-General of the Royal Music' to be borne abroad. He was to take the general superintendence of all musical affairs, and to compose two new grand operas, or three smaller ones, every three years. He was bound to conduct only at the first performances of his own works; at other times he might conduct or not as he pleased. In addition he was to compose pièces d'occasion for the court-festivals, and whenever the king pleased. Any other works he chose to compose and produce at the theatre were to be paid for separately. He was also at liberty, with slight restrictions, to produce his operas for his own benefit elsewhere, and to sell them to publishers. His salary was fixed at 4000 thalers, payable half-yearly in advance, besides an annual benefit, guaranteed to yield to at least 1050 thalers, and a benefit concert, with the theatre free, and the gratuitous assistance of the members of the Royal opera and orchestra. He was to have four months leave of absence every year, and an adequate pension after ten years' service. The Prussian ambassador interfered to procure his release from his engagement at Naples, and the king undertook to pay any necessary damages.
Although nominally subordinate to Brühl, Spontini was by this contract virtually made his colleague. Brühl's experienced eye, however, soon detected certain passages in the document admitting of two interpretations, and exposing the Management to all the dangers of a divided authority. He could not help feeling mortified at the way he had been superseded in the business; this would naturally make him mistrust Spontini, and thus the two came together under unfavourable auspices. According to the contract Spontini should have begun work at Berlin on Feb. 15, 1820, but he obtained leave to postpone his coming, first to March 15, and then to May 15, and did not arrive until May 28, 1820. The corps dramatique, piqued at the exorbitant terms of his engagement, did not meet him in the friendliest spirit, but Berlin society was favourably disposed towards him, particularly the court circle. The newspapers were full of the subject, and thus it came to pass that all classes were keenly interested.
The Opera was at this time, thanks to Brühl's exertions, in a high state of efficiency. The company was unusually good—including such singers as Mesdames Milder-Hauptmann, Seidler-Wranitzky, Schulz-Killitschky, and Eunicke; Messrs. Bader, Stumer, Blume, and Eduard Devrient. The band had been well trained by Bernhard Weber. Brühl took immense pains to secure finish in the performances, had added to the repertoire all the great masterpieces, and had introduced 'Fidelio' and 'Armida,' besides establishing other operas of Gluck's permanently in Berlin. He had also mounted the 'Vestale' and 'Cortez' with the utmost care and intelligence, and was entitled to boast that he had made the Berlin opera the first in Germany, as indeed every one allowed. Spontini found neither blemishes to remove nor reforms to introduce. He had at his disposal a company of first-rate artists, his power over them was practically unlimited, and the king's confidence in him unbounded. His obvious duty was to keep matters up to the standard to which Brühl had raised them.
He started with the best intentions. Brühl was informed of various plans for increasing the orchestra, establishing a training-school for the chorus, and introducing new methods into the existing singing-school. He was considering the best means of educating the singers in the dramatic part of their art, and drew up a new set of rules for the band. Little, however, came of all this, partly because several of Spontini's proposals were already in existence in other forms, and partly because of his own want of purpose and temper. In fact, it soon came to a trial of strength between him and Brühl. The latter insisted, a little too firmly, on his rights as supreme manager, and even appealed to the public through the press. Spontini, despotic, and exceedingly sensitive as to publicity, referred to his contract, which had been drawn up without Brühl's concurrence, and which he declined to interpret according to Brühl's views, and stated specifically that he was subject to no one but the ​King, or possibly the Home-Minister also. Unacquainted with Berlin or the German language, and surrounded by a crowd of parasites, he soon fell into mistakes which it was extremely difficult to rectify with so suspicious a person. A few months of ill-concealed irritation on both sides led to open collision. On Oct. 25, at a meeting to arrange the répertoire for the week, with Brühl in the chair, Spontini spoke of the latter's sketch as 'parfaitement ridicule,' because it did not contain at least two grand operas, the 'Vestale' and 'Armida'; styled the pieces selected 'des misères, des niaiseries,' etc., and talked in the most violent way of the Count's bad management. Brühl tried to give him an idea of what subordination meant in Prussia, but subordination Spontini would not hear of. 'Don't attempt to treat me,' he writes on Nov. 12, 'as a mere subordinate, for I am nothing of the kind, neither by my person, my character, my contract, nor my talent; for although my post happens to be included in your department, it is so in a wholly different sense from what you appear, or pretend, to think.' The whole letter is very angry, and very rude, and it was long before the two were again on terms of even outward civility. Brühl took his grievance straight to the king, and peace was at length re-established. The following extract will show Brühl's opinion of Spontini at this time:
'He is,' he writes to Witzleben, 'extremely passionate, and once in a passion oversteps all bounds; uses expressions which no man of honour can pardon, and then considers his natural bad temper excuse enough for anything. He is very suspicious, and at the same time very credulous, putting himself at the mercy of any one who will flatter his vanity; and in consequence is surrounded by a host of unsatisfactory characters, who make him their shuttlecock. His pride and vanity have really reached the sublime of the ridiculous; and temper, sometimes assuming the guise of modesty, directs, or rather misdirects, all his actions.… And to such a man has been confided the conduct of business of more than ordinary intricacy!'
This description, written under obvious irritation, should in justice be counterbalanced by the consideration of Spontini's great qualities as an artist. But that Brühl's estimate was in the main correct, the sequel will show.
During the preparations for the first performance of 'Olympia,' Spontini had an opportunity of appearing before the court and public with a new composition. In the beginning of 1821 the Grand-Duke Nicholas, heir-presumptive to the throne of Russia, and his consort, paid a visit to Berlin, and court-festivities on a grand scale were instituted in their honour. Moore's 'Lalla Rookh' was then much talked of, and Brühl conceived the idea of representing the principal scenes in a series of tableaux-vivants. Schinkel undertook the scenery and arrangement of the groups, and Spontini composed the songs, introductory march, and dance-music. The performance took place Jan. 27, 1821, at the Royal Palace, and was pronounced to be the most brilliant and quaintly beautiful thing of the kind ever seen. The actors were all members of the court-circle: Shah Jehander was played by Prince William, now (1883) Emperor; Abdallah by the Duke of Cumberland; Jehanara by the Duchess; the Peri by Princess Elise Radziwill; Aliris by the Grand-Duke Nicholas; and Lalla Rookh by the Grand-Duchess. On Feb. 11 the performance was repeated before a select audience comprising the most distinguished artists and scientific men in Berlin. Hensel, Fanny Mendelssohn's husband, was commissioned by the King to paint the tableaux, for presentation to the Grand Duchess. They were arranged in consecutive order:—first the stories told by Feramors, then the 'Veiled Prophet' in two scenes; 'Paradise and the Peri,' and the 'Fire-Worshippers,' in three each. Then the 'Feast of Roses' in pantomime. A sort of running commentary on the representation was furnished by a number of songs written by Spiker, set by Spontini, and executed behind the scenes by the best singers from the opera and a small orchestra. Spontini's work consists of 4 instrumental and 6 vocal pieces. One of the latter is a chorus of genii (3 soprani and 1 tenor) sung while Nourmahal is sleeping, and a real work of genius. The singers vocalise on the A, while the instruments are playing a light accompaniment. The other vocal pieces are the songs, the second being a free translation of the opening of 'Paradise and the Peri.' Spontini's work now suffers from inevitable comparison with Schumann's music. As an Italian he had neither romantic imagination nor depth of expression enough for the subject. But taking the piece as a whole, it is possibly more in character with Moore's poetry than the oratorio-form chosen by Schumann.
The first performance of 'Olympia' was eagerly anticipated. March 5, 1821, was first fixed, but it was postponed till May 14, a delay for which Spontini was entirely to blame. The translator, E. A. Hoffmann, only got the last act from him bit by bit, the chorus-master had not seen a note of it by Feb. 18, nor had the ballet-master been consulted. Spontini insisted on at least three months rehearsals. The expenditure on the mise-en-scène was so lavish that even the king remonstrated. Statira was played by Milder, Olympia by Schulz, and Cassander and Antigonus by Bader and Blume. The chorus and orchestra were materially strengthened, the scenery was by Schinkel and Gropius, and there were 42 rehearsals. The result was one of the most brilliant and perfect performances ever seen, and an enormous success. Even Brühl was carried away, and wrote to Milder, 'you have given us a perfect representation, and added another flower to your crown as an artist.' Spontini's triumph was complete. Even his opponents acknowledged that 'Olympia' had no rival among modern operas. Zelter wrote to Goethe that he did not like the work, but could not help going again and again.
Spontini's supremacy in the musical world lasted exactly five weeks, but on June 18, 1821, ​'Der Freischütz' was produced at the newly erected theatre in Berlin. Its immediate success may not have more than equalled that of 'Olympia,' but it soon became evident that the chief effect of the latter was astonishment, while the former set the pulse of the German people beating. 'Olympia' remained almost restricted to the stage of Berlin, while the 'Freischütz' spread with astonishing rapidity throughout Germany and the whole world. Spontini could not conceal that he had, on the morrow of a great triumph, been completely vanquished by an obscure opponent, and that too after consciously doing his very utmost. Even this might not have discouraged him, but that in 'Der Freischütz' he was brought face to face with a phase of the German character totally beyond his comprehension. He had no weapons wherewith to encounter this opponent. A man of weaker will would have contented himself with such success as might still be secured in Germany; but Spontini could brook no rival, and finding that he could not outdo Weber's music, tried to suppress him by means wholly outside the circle of art. As director-general of music many such lay ready to his hand, and that he knew how to use them is shown by the fate of 'Euryanthe' and 'Oberon' in Berlin. The success of 'Freischütz' did not improve Spontini's relations with Brühl, a personal friend of Weber's, and a great admirer of his music. A little incident will show what treatment the Intendant occasionally met with from the Director: in March 1822 the former wished to have the 'Nozze di Figaro,' and the latter 'Der Freischütz,' upon which Spontini writes that the means which Brühl 'is taking to attain his end with regard to his favourite work do no credit either to his taste or his impartiality.'
On the first night of 'Der Freischütz,' the following verses were circulated in the theatre, the allusion being to the elephants in 'Olympia':
So lass dirs gefallen in unserm Revier, Hier bleiben, so rufen, so bitten wir; Und wenn es auch keinem Elephantem gilt, Du jagst wohl nach anderem, edlerem Wild.
From that hour the public was divided into two parties. The national party, far the strongest in intellect and cultivation, rallied round Weber. The king and the court persistently supported Spontini, though even their help could not make him master of the situation. The Censorship interfered to check the expression of public opinion against him, and his complaints of supposed slights were always attended to. But his artistic star, which had shone with such lustre after the first night of 'Olympie,' was now slowly setting.
The excellence of that first performance was acknowledged even by Weber himself, and this may be a good opportunity for some remarks on Spontini as a director. Whether he had a specific talent for conducting cannot be determined, for as a rule he conducted only two operas besides his own 'Armida' and 'Don Juan,' and these he knew thoroughly. For the rest of the work there were two conductors, Seidel and Schneider, and two leaders, Moser and Seidler. When Spontini came to Berlin he had had very little practice in conducting, and at first declined to handle the bâton, but made the leader sit by him in the orchestra, and give the tempo according to his directions. Indeed he never completely mastered the technicalities of the art, his manner of conducting recitatives especially being clumsy and undecided. So at least says Dorn, a competent witness, who had often seen him conduct. In reading a score too he was slow and inexpert; and at the Cologne Festival of 1847 could scarcely find his way in his own score of 'Olympia,' which he had not conducted for some time. He was thus very slow in rehearsing a work, though not for this reason only, for the same laborious accuracy which he showed in composing was carried into every detail of the performance. He never rested till each part was reproduced exactly as it existed in his own imagination, which itself had to be cleared by repeated experiments. Inconsiderate and despotic towards his subordinates, he wearied his singers and band to death by endless repetitions, his rehearsals not unfrequently lasting from 8 a.m. till 4 p.m., or from 5 p.m. till 11 at night. He only treated others, however, in the same way that he treated himself, for no trouble was too great for him to take in revising his work down to the smallest particulars. When the first night arrived, every member of the orchestra knew his work by heart, and Spontini might beat as he liked, all went like clockwork. If scenery or costumes which had been expressly prepared did not please him he ordered others, regardless of cost. Being a true dramatic artist, his eye was as keen on the stage as his ear in the orchestra, and everything, down to the smallest accessories, must be arranged to express his ideas. Soon after his arrival he fell out with Brühl, because in the 'Vestalin' he wanted Frau Milder to carry the Palladium in public, whereas Brühl maintained, on Hirt's authority, that the Palladium was never shown to the people. He was furious when it was suggested that the burning of the fleet in 'Cortez' should not take place on the stage; and he once went so far as to send his wife to Brühl to request that a sleeve of Schulz's dress might be altered! In choosing his actors he not only studied voice, temperament, and dramatic skill, but was most particular about appearance. A distinguished bass singer, recommended to him by Dorn for high-priest parts, was not even allowed to open his mouth because he was 'at least a foot and a half too short.' He ​insisted on the complete fusion of the vocal and instrumental, the dramatic and the musical elements, and demanded from the chorus, as well as the solo-singers, an entire absorption in their parts, and an intelligent rendering of each situation. His love for the grandiose and the awe-inspiring led him to employ all the resources of decoration, and what then seemed enormous masses of musicians, singers, and dancers; and also to employ the strongest accents and most startling contrasts. 'His forte,' says Dorn, 'was a hurricane, his piano a breath, his crescendo made every one open their eyes, his diminuendo induced a feeling of delicious languor, his sforzando was enough to wake the dead.' In this respect he exacted the very utmost from his singers and musicians. A story is still told in the Berlin orchestra of a bass passage in one of his operas which he could not get loud enough, though he repeated it again and again, the players in vain doing their utmost, till at last to Spontini's delight the cellists hit on the idea of singing their notes as well. He insisted on Milder putting her whole force into Statira's exclamation 'Cassander!' and on one occasion she so overstrained herself as to lose her voice for the rest of the evening. From that moment he considered her useless, and in 1829 had her pensioned off. Seidler-Wranitzky was delicate, and her style more suited to Lieder and serious music, so she found little favour with him, in spite of her exquisite singing. 'Il faut braver, Madame,' shouted he, when she showed symptoms of exhaustion at a rehearsal of the 'Vestale'; and he was scarcely moved when she fainted. It was not because he wrote unvocally, or overloaded his voices with accompaniment, that his parts were so trying—for he was too thorough an Italian not to rely upon the voice for his chief effects; but it was his propensity to extreme contrasts, and his want of consideration in rehearsing. It soon became a general complaint among women singers that Spontini ruined the voice. Seidler asked leave to retire on this account in 1826; in 1823 Milder begged that 'Olympia' might not be given more than once a fortnight, and Schechner refused an engagement because she was afraid of Spontini's operas. Even Schulz, who was devoted to him, was so angry in March 1824 at the continual strain of her heavy parts, as to lose her temper at rehearsal, and speak so rudely that she would have been punished had he not changed his mind.
Spontini's appearance at the head of his musicians was almost that of a general leading an army to victory. When he glided rapidly through the orchestra to his desk every member of the band was in position, and on the alert to begin. At such moments he looked an aristocrat to the backbone, but also an autocrat who would insist on subjugating all other wills to his own. The pedantic side of his character also came out in many little traits—he could only conduct from a MS. score, and his desk must be of a certain peculiar construction. His bâton was a thick stick of ebony with a solid ivory ball at each end; this he grasped in the middle with his whole fist, using it like a marshal's staff.
By May 14, 1821, the 'Vestalin,' 'Cortez,' and 'Olympia' had all been produced according to the composer's own ideas at the Berlin opera, where they long remained stock-pieces. But their frequent repetition was more to gratify the King than the public, and indeed the theatre had soon to be filled by a large issue of free admissions. Thus, for 'Olympia,' on Dec. 21, 1821, Spontini obtained from the office 50 free tickets, besides buying 25 more. In Sept. 1824 he urged the Intendant not to raise the prices for grand operas (meaning his own), or the public would soon cease to come at all, and begged to have 'ordinary prices' in large letters on the bills for the next performance of the 'Vestalin.' A new opera of his was however still an exciting event, partly because of his own personality and position, partly because the public was sure of a splendid spectacle. He was, bound to furnish two grand operas every three years; 'Olympia' counted as one, and by the end of 1821 he was thinking of the second. After much consideration he chose the 'Feast of Roses,' from Moore's 'Lalla Rookh,' influenced no doubt by the success of his earlier Festspiel, and the prospect, welcome to a slow worker, of using portions of his old material; but the subject did not seem very congenial. The libretto was written by Herklots, librettist to the Opera. On March 22 Spontini wrote to Brühl that he was working 17 hours a day on the first act, and that there were only two. The first performance of 'Nurmahal' took place May 27, 1822, in honour of the marriage of the Princess Alexandrina of Prussia, to whom the Emperor dedicated the PF. score (Schlesinger). This is not, as has often been said, merely a revised version of 'Lalla Rukh,' comparatively little of that music having been used in it. The introductory march became no. 8 of the opera; Nourmahal's song, no. 26; the drum chorus of genii no. 20; and the ballet-music was mostly retained. A song was also introduced from his 'Dieux rivaux,' and the ballet from the 'Danaïdes' (nos. 10 and 14).
The merits of the librettos of the 'Vestalin,' 'Cortez,' and 'Olympia,' outweigh their defects. Not so however that of 'Nurmahal'; its plot and characters are alike insipid, and it is in fact a mere pièce d'occasion. The oriental colouring, which must have been its attraction for Spontini, still forms its sole interest. But, inferior as it is to 'Oberon,' it gives a high idea of its author's dramatic instinct, when we consider the utter inability of French and Italian composers as a rule to deal with the fantastic and mythical. Its best numbers are the first finale, the duet no. 17, and the duet with chorus no. 20. There is a striking passage in the finale—the lovers lying on opposite sides of the stage, and the people dancing about them to a bacchante-like strain, when suddenly the dance ceases, and ​the voices hold on a chord of the seventh on E, with an indescribable effect of unsatisfied longing. It is a stroke of true genius of which any German composer of the romantic school might be proud. The duet no. 17 contains some conventional thoughts, but the vehemence of its passion is irresistible, and it seems to have been the earliest instance of a kind of sentiment first employed among German composers by Marschner, e.g. in no. 17 of his 'Templer und Jüdin.' The spirit chorus no. 20 has a charming sound, produced by means entirely new; though, compared with Weber's tone-pictures, it strikes the hearer as superficial. It is impossible to help this comparison for many reasons, one being that in no. 21 of 'Nurmahal' one of Spontini's genii sings 'From Chindara's warbling fount I come.' A glance at the two compositions is enough to show how far he fell short of the qualities required for this kind of work. Nurmahal's songs in the latter part are thoroughly insipid; and the interest falls off just where the climax should have been reached. The rest of the piece contains much that is beautiful, especially some passages in the Andantino malinconico, of startling novelty and expression, the gay introductory chorus, and the melodious nos. 3, 4, and 5, so entirely in Spontini's Neapolitan manner that they might have been taken from his early operas. Here and there are touches recalling Mozart. The overture and ballets are brilliant and festal, and the overture has an open-airiness of style often found in Italian overtures. Clumsy declamation, however, and wrongly accented words, constantly betray that the composer is dealing with an unfamiliar language.
On June 9, 1821, Spontini started for a seven months' leave. He went first to Dresden, and there met Weber. Weber was cordial and obliging, while Spontini, though polite in manner, took pains to make his rival feel the newness of his reputation as a composer. By June 29 he was in Vienna trying to arrange a performance of 'Olympia' for the following season; but this did not take place. Thence he went to Italy, revisiting his birthplace; and by September was in Paris at work on the revision of 'Olympia.' He also made some experiments on 'Milton,' telling Brühl (Jan. 12, 1823) that he would put it before him in three different forms. By the end of January he was back in Berlin, apparently anxious to keep on good terms with Brühl, though such good resolutions seldom lasted long. One of their many differences was on the subject of star-singers (Gastspieler). These Brühl wished to encourage, as a means of testing the artists, and their chance of popularity; but Spontini disliked the system. An appearance of Carl Devrient and Wilhelmine Schroder in the summer of 1823 evoked another impertinent letter to Brühl, who in reply (July 7) told him to mind his own business.
He had now been in office four years, and the stipulated two grand operas every three years, or smaller one each year, were only represented by a scéna or two for 'Olympia,' and a couple of pieces for 'Nurmahal.' It was plain that he had undertaken a task wholly beyond his strength, owing to his pedantic manner of working. He thought (Aug. 2, 1823) of turning 'Milton' into a grand opera with recitatives, choruses, and ballets, but soon relinquished the idea, and by Oct. 17 was 'busy, night and day, with Alcidor.' The libretto was by Théauleon, who had formerly altered 'Cortez.' On coming to Berlin, in Nov. 1823, Théauleon found the first scene already composed, and his business was to fit words to the music. His task was not easy: 'If I wrote lines of ten syllables,' he says, 'Spontini wanted them of five; scarcely had I hammered out an unfortunate stanza of five, when it had to be lengthened to twelve or fifteen, and if I expostulated, on the ground that lines of that length were not admissible in French poetry, he would reply in a sort of recitative, accompanying himself on the piano, "The translation will make it all right." Never did so poor a poem cost its author so much trouble.' It is evident from this that Spontini composed to French words, which were afterwards translated by Herklots. Schinkel and Gropius again painted the scenery. The rehearsals began in Sept. 1824, and the first performance took place May 23, 1825. Its reception by Spontini's adherents was unmistakably hearty, and many outsiders were dazzled by its new effects of scenery and music, but the national party were louder than ever in their disapprobation. Among the adverse critiques was a parody in the true Berlin style, in which 'Alcidor eine Zauberoper' was converted into 'Allzudoll eine Zauderoper.' Zelter alone was impartial, but he was no doubt influenced by his prejudice against Weber, and all that he can say is 'The piece was written by Théauleon in French, and set to French music, so we have at last a real Berlin original that is a new coat turned'; and again, 'Spontini always reminds me of a Gold-King, flinging his gold at the people, and breaking their heads with it.' Not even a PF. score of 'Alcidor' was published; nor did it make its way beyond Berlin, any more than 'Nurmahal' had done.
The libretto is founded on the story of the nine statues in the 'Arabian Nights.' But the plot is weak, and the characters uninteresting. Spontini was induced to choose a super-natural story by the fashion of the day and the success of the 'Freischütz'; but in 'Alcidor,' as to some extent in 'Nurmahal,' he was striving against his own instincts. The German romantic operas of this period, unlike the earlier Viennese magic-operas, treated the supernatural element seriously, and this was an important feature in their success. But it required the deep sympathy ​with the hidden forces of nature which makes a German look upon the world of spirits as so many impersonations of those forces. An Italian could only treat such a subject from the outside, and it says much for Spontini's dramatic talent that he so frequently found appropriate, and in some cases striking, expression for this spirit-life. 'Alcidor' might have succeeded, if it had not been so soon followed by 'Oberon.' Spontini virtually confessed that his conception was only a superficial one, by insisting on the most gorgeous scenery. But the golden palaces and gardens, the glittering statues, the columns of compressed vapour, the living fire, the brilliant processions and dances, required music of corresponding brilliancy; and his massive musical effects, so objected to by his opponents, were only in keeping with the rest. The tuned anvils in 'Alcidor' have long been used as an illustration of the pitch to which Spontini carried noise in his later operas. One would imagine that this detail must have come from those who knew either the opera or the score; but the latter, now in the Imperial library at Berlin, only shows three anvils tuned to different notes, instead of ten, and the effect is very much that of bells. The opening chorus of the 1st act, in which they occur, is one of the finest numbers in the opera. The singers are Ismenor's gnomes, occupied in destroying the Temple of Love and forging 'chains for the world,' and after their boisterous declamation the song of the mourning sylphs comes in as a most effective contrast. The next chorus of dream-gods was taken from 'Pélage' (see p. 669b), where it is no. 6.
Another grand opera was due for the summer of 1826, and a week after the production of 'Alcidor' Spontini asked Count Brühl whether a revised and lengthened version of 'Milton' would do for the purpose. The Count thought the material too scanty, but the King (June 29) agreed to the proposal. Spontini having obtained 11 months' leave, started for Paris, where he was present at a revival of 'Olympie' on Feb. 28, 1826, returning immediately afterwards to Berlin. Nothing more was heard of 'Milton,' and during this year he furnished no work for the King's theatre. Ernst Raupach was now librettist to the opera, and Spontini agreed with him on a subject from German medieval history, which eventually became the opera 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen.' The first act—long enough for a complete opera—was ready by 1827, and performed May 28. The whole three acts were finished in 1829, and produced June 12 for the marriage of Prince Wilhelm, the present German Emperor. Spontini, dissatisfied with his work, had the libretto altered by Baron von Lichtenstein and other friends, and made more vital changes in the music than in almost any other of his grand operas. In this form it was revived Dec. 6, 1837.
German medieval history at this time occupied much attention, and thus no doubt influenced Spontini's choice of a subject. He set to work with the seriousness which was his main characteristic as an artist; read, studied, and did everything to imbue himself with the spirit of the epoch, one wholly foreign to anything he had before attempted. The libretto in its final form was a good one on the whole. The scene is laid at Mayence in 1194, during the reign of the Emperor Henry VI. of Hohenstaufen, and the plot turns on the factions of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. Here Spontini was again in his element—the grand historical drama of 'Cortez' and 'Olympia.' The work is of a wholly different stamp from 'Nurmahal' and 'Alcidor,' and deserves to be ranked with his Paris operas. In grandeur of conception it equals, and occasionally surpasses, 'Olympie.' The latter half of the 2nd act is a colossal production, unparalleled in operatic literature. It would be impossible to add one iota to the passion which rages through the scene, or to pile up one additional element in the music without sacrificing all clearness in the component parts. The novelty of the local colouring, so distinct from that of 'Cortez,' 'Olympia,' or 'Alcidor,' is admirable. Gloomy, forceful, and melancholy, all indicates the spirit of the heroic age. The music too is thoroughly German, the harmonies richer and more satisfying, the melodies quite national in character; isolated passages recalling Spohr, and even Weber, though without anything like servile imitation. Could anything be more characteristic than the German waltz in the finale of the 1st act? The French knights and troubadours, who contrast with the Germans, are equally well defined. The music is throughout the result of an entire absorption in the dramatic situation and characters. A comparison of it with the sentimental ballad-like effusions of even good German composers under similar circumstances will serve to accentuate the difference between them and Spontini. Neither is there any sign of exhaustion of inventive power. The stream of melody flows as freely as ever; indeed there is a breadth, an élan, and a fire in some of these melodies, to which he rarely attains in his earlier operas—instance the terzetto in the 2nd act, 'Ja, statt meines Kerkers Grauen,' and Agnes' solo 'Mein König droben.' The critiques of the day were most unjustly severe; but though the music was never published the MS. score exists, and an examination of it will fully bear out all that we have said. It is not too late to form an impartial judgment, and Germans should recognise that they have a duty to perform to 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen,' as the only opera which deals worthily with a glorious period of German history. When this has been fairly acknowledged it will be time enough to look out for its defects.
It was the last opera which Spontini completed. ​Various new plans and schemes continued to occupy him, as before, especially during the latter part of his stay in Paris, when 'Louis IX,' 'La Colère d'Achille.'and 'Artaserse' had in turn been thought of for composition. For a successor to 'Olympia' he thought first of 'Sappho' or of 'Die Horatier,' and then of two of Werner's tragedies, 'Das Kreuz an der Ostsee' and 'Attila,' but none of these projects appear to have advanced far enough even for a preliminary rehearsal. More progress was made with a poem by his old friend Jouy, 'Les Athéniennes,' first offered him in 1819, and accepted in a revised form in 1822. In a review of the poem written in 1830 Goethe implies that the music was complete, but at Spontini's death nothing was found but unimportant fragments. An opera founded on English history occupied him longer. We have already mentioned the revision of his 'Milton.' His studies for this deepened his interest in the English history of the 17th century. In 1830 Raupach wrote a libretto for a grand opera, 'Milton,' which was bought by the committee of management for 30 Friedrichs d'or, and placed at Spontini's disposal. The only portion of the smaller opera retained was the fine Hymn to the Sun. After completing the revision of 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen' Spontini wrote to the Intendant (May 9, 1837) that he hoped in the winter of 1838 to produce 'Milton's Tod und Busse für Königsmord' (Milton's death, and repentance for the King's execution). He spent the summer of 1838 in England, studying 'historical, national, and local' colouring for this 'historico-romantic' opera. Raupach's poem, extended and revised by Dr. Sobernheim, had now assumed a political and religious tendency, so distasteful to the King as to make him prohibit the opera. Further alterations ensued, and it became 'Das verlorene Paradies' (Paradise Lost). By May 1840 the score of part of the 1st, and two-thirds of the 2nd act was complete. Up to March 1841 he certainly intended finishing it, but not a note of it has ever been heard. We may add that on June 4, 1838, he mentioned a fairy-opera to the King, and in Dec. 1840 professed himself ready to begin a new comic opera. He was apparently bent on composing fresh dramatic works, and often complained that the management did not offer him sufficient choice of librettos; but he was incapacitated from creation by his increasing pedantry, and by the perpetual state of irritation in which he was kept by his critics.
Spontini's other compositions during his residence in Berlin are unimportant. A hymn for the coronation of the Emperor Nicholas of Russia, to words by Raupach, was performed at Berlin Dec. 18, 1826, and May 9, 1827. A cantata to Herklots' words, 'Gott segne den König,' had a great success at the Halle Musical Festival in Sept. 1829, which Spontini conducted so much to the general satisfaction as to procure him an honorary Doctor's degree from the University, and a gold medal inscribed 'Liricæ Tragcediæ Principi Germania meritorum cultrix.' A 'Domine salvum fac regem,' à 12, with accompaniment of organ, trumpets, celli, and basses, was written on Oct. 15, 1840, for presentation to the King. Besides these he published a number of French, German, and Italian vocal pieces, with PF. accompaniment, the best of which is 'Die Cimbern,' a war-song for three men's voices. As a mere matter of curiosity may be mentioned that he set Goethe's 'Kennst du das Land,' and the Italian canzonet 'Ninfe, se liete,' in which he again clashed unconsciously with Weber's very graceful composition to the same words (1811).
Considering his great position, Spontini did not accomplish much for music in Berlin. At the opera he made the band play with a fire, an expression, and an ensemble, hitherto unknown, forced the singers to throw themselves dramatically into their parts, and used every exertion to fuse the different elements into one coherent whole. That his standard was high and his views enlightened must be admitted. He endeavoured too to improve the existing school for singers, and founded one for the orchestra. But his efforts as a rule were concentrated on the operas which he himself conducted—that is to say, his own, Gluck's 'Armida,' and 'Don Juan.' These works, through his genius, his influence on his subordinates, and his almost absolute power, he brought to a perfection then unequalled. The pieces directed by his vice-conductors went badly, partly because Spontini exhausted the singers, and partly because he took little interest in the general répertoire. He had, too, no power of organisation or administration. As long as the excellent material lasted which Brühl transferred to him in 1820 this defect was not glaring, but when his solo-singers began to wear out and had to be replaced, it was found that he had not the judgment, the penetration, nor the impartiality necessary for such business. Up to the autumn of 1827 he only concluded one engagement himself, and in that instance it was a solo-singer who proved only fit for the chorus. On the other hand he lost Sieber, a good bass, by insisting on reducing his salary to 100 thalers, and had shortly afterwards to re-engage him at 200, as there was no bass in the company capable of taking the parts in his own operas. The art of divining the taste of the public, of at once meeting it, elevating and moulding it—the art, in fact, of keeping the exchequer full without sacrificing artistic position—this was wholly out of his reach. At the King's theatre, the audiences steadily fell off, especially after the opening of the Königstadt theatre in 1823. At times Spontini seems to have felt his incapacity, but unfortunately he was deluded by his own vanity and domineering temper, and the insinuations of ​so-called friends, into believing that the decline of the opera was owing to Brühl, whereas Brühl might have retorted that everything he proposed was met by a despotic and unreasoning veto. The Count at length, in 1828, wearied out by the unceasing opposition, resigned, and was succeeded by Count Redern, who received from the King a fresh code of instructions, somewhat circumscribing Spontini's powers, and concentrating those of the management. Opportunities for fresh differences still constantly arose, and Count Redern had much to contend with in Spontini's increasing irritability and inconsistency. In time even the admirers of his music felt that his personal influence was bad, and that the opera would never prosper as long as he remained at its head.
Spontini was to have the receipts of the first nights of his own operas for his annual benefit, or in default of such representations a sum of 4000 francs. In the latter case he might give a concert, and in fact he gave a considerable number, both vocal and instrumental. 'My concerts,' in his own words, 'are dedicated to the great masters, whose memory I strive to keep alive with the public, while testifying my own respect by performing their works in the most brilliant and complete manner possible.' His programmes consisted principally of German music, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. The first performance in Berlin of Beethoven's Symphony in A was at a concert of Spontini's on May 12, 1824, and on April 30, 1828, he gave Beethoven's C minor Symphony, the Kyrie and Gloria from his Mass in D, the overture to 'Coriolanus' and the Credo from Bach's B minor Mass. As Bach's Mass had only just been published by Nägeli of Zurich, Spontini was the first to introduce a portion of it to the public of Berlin, as he had been to acquaint them with Beethoven's masses. The performance itself seems to have been a poor one, and indeed it could hardly be otherwise, Spontini not having much in common with Bach; but the attempt was praiseworthy. Another point to his credit was that he gave his support to Moser's concerts. The King's band could not play without his permission, so he might have made difficulties if he had chosen. He never could be brought to understand that the then strong points of German music were chorus-singing and instrumental music. With him opera, especially his own, was everything, and therefore with all his efforts, honest as they were, he did as much harm as good.
As we have already mentioned, Spontini's late operas had no success outside Berlin. Except a couple of stray performances of 'Olympia' at Dresden and Darmstadt, they did not even gain a hearing. Occasionally he conducted one of his own works, as for instance the 'Vestalin' at Munich (Oct. 7 and 11, 1827), and Hamburg (Sept. 18, 1834). But such personal contact does not seem to have led to sympathetic relations. Speaking generally, the 'Vestalin' and 'Cortez' were the only operas of his appreciated in Germany.
In Berlin itself each year added to the number of his opponents. In 1824 Marx entered the lists in his behalf in his Zeitung, and was seconded by Dorn; but Dorn left Berlin in March 1828, and Marx, though sincerely attached to Spontini, occasionally admitted adverse critiques. Spontini was morbidly sensitive to public opinion, and the loss of his defenders was a serious one. Against the advice of judicious friends he replied in person to anonymous attacks, suffered flatterers to use unpractised pens in his behalf, and even called in the Censorship. Such steps could but damage his cause. The opposition was headed by Rellstab, the editor of the Vossische Zeitung, an experienced littérateur with some knowledge of music, a great ally of Weber's, and a blind opponent of everything foreign. In nos. 23 to 26 of the year 1827 of Marx's Zeitung appeared an article utterly demolishing the first act of 'Agnes von Hohenstaufen.' Dorn made a successful reply in nos. 27 to 29, but far from being silenced Rellstab published a book, 'Ueber mein Verhältniss als Kritiker zur Herrn Spontini,' in which he unsparingly attacked Spontini as a composer and director, and exposed the absurd tactics of the Spontini clique. The clique put forth a defence called 'Spontini in Germany, an impartial consideration of his productions during his ten years residence in that country' (Leipzig, 1830). It was however anything but impartial, was ignorant and badly done.
Spontini's ten years contract finished in 1830; it was renewed, on terms more favourable to the Intendant-General, and this, with the fact of his ceasing to compose, gave an opportunity to his enemies, and an unfortunate indiscretion on the part of one of his friends played into their hands. Dorow of Halle, the archæologist, in a collection of autographs (1837) inserted a letter from Spontini (Marienbad, Aug. 12, 1836) lamenting the degeneracy of the dramatic composers of the day. It was done in good faith, Dorow honestly believing that he was serving Spontini by thus publishing his opinions without authority; but his opponents issued the letter in a separate pamphlet with a German translation, and 'explanatory' remarks, in which Spontini was fiercely attacked in terms of ironical respect. In the same year, in nos. 101 and 102 of the 'Komet,' appeared a pasquinade by a student named Thomas, stating that Spontini had opposed the production of 'Robert le Diable,' the 'Postilion ​de Longjumeau,' and 'La Muette de Portici,' till obliged to yield to the express command of the King; that a new code of instructions had altered his position, and made him entirely subordinate to the Intendant; that he had been reprimanded for selling his free admissions, and had had them withdrawn; that the engagements of certain singers contained a clause stipulating that they should not be obliged to sing in Spontini's operas, etc., etc.
Thomas, when called to account, referred to an 'official of high position' as his authority. And indeed there was a certain amount of truth in the charges. Without directly opposing the production of the operas mentioned, he had not hesitated openly to avow his dislike of them; no new code of instructions had just then been issued, but that of 1831 did materially strengthen the Intendant's position, and to a certain extent make the Director-general his subordinate. Spontini had not himself sold free admissions, but his servant had, and in consequence the allotted number had been diminished, very much to his mortification. It was advisable, however, to prevent such a newspaper scandal from reaching the King's ears, so Count Redern replied, contradicting all the false statements, and passing over in silence all the true ones; Thomas was induced to make a public apology, and the affair seemed at an end. But Spontini's troubles were not yet over; and his unpopularity was so great that worse attacks might be expected.
On June 7, 1840, King Frederic William III. died, and Spontini's one mainstay was gone. Though obliged occasionally to express displeasure at his perpetual squabbles with the Intendant, the King had been steadfast in his attachment to Spontini and his music. The new King made no change in his position, but his sympathies were in a different direction, and no place was destined for Spontini in the grand designs he was elaborating. This soon became known. If Spontini could have kept himself quiet the change might have been delayed, but he was injudicious enough to lay before the King a paper complaining of the Management and of Count Redern. The King questioned the Intendant, and was satisfied with his explanations, but to obviate all appearance of partisanship he appointed a commission to enquire into Spontini's grievances. In the meantime the press had taken up the matter. A definite attack was made, to which Spontini was unwise enough to reply (Leipzig Allgemeine Zeitung of Jan. 20, 1841) in such a manner as to give Count Redern ground for an indictment for lèse-majesté, and (on Feb. 5) to a direct reprimand from the King.
But this disgraceful treatment of the royal house by a foreigner who had enjoyed for years almost unexampled court favour immensely increased the public feeling against Spontini, and for two months he remained in private. On April 2, however, in spite of repeated warnings, he took his seat to conduct 'Don Juan.' His appearance was the signal for a tremendous uproar, and cries of 'hinaus! hinaus!'—'off! off!' He stood firm, began the overture, and would have proceeded with the opera, but a rush was made to get at him on the stage, and he was forced to retire from the theatre. He never entered it again as conductor.
The trial kept Spontini in Berlin all the summer, but he obtained leave from Aug. 31 to Dec. 10, and went to Paris. His connection with the opera was severed by the King on Aug. 25, on terms of royal generosity. He was to retain his title and full salary, and live where he pleased, 'in the hope that in repose he might produce new works, which the King would hail with pleasure if he chose to conduct them in person at Berlin.' To these munificent arrangements no conditions whatever were attached. Spontini was convicted of lèse-majesté,, and condemned to nine months' imprisonment, a sentence confirmed by the higher court to which he appealed, but remitted by the King. In the face of all this he had the effrontery to demand a further sum of 46,850 thalers, on the ground that the Management had not supplied him with a sufficient number of librettos, whereby he had lost the sum guaranteed him for first nights, besides profits from other performances and from publishers—reckoned at 3000 thalers for each opera! The King referred him to the law-courts, but Spontini's better nature seems at length to have prevailed, and he withdrew his application Dec. 23, 1841. When he finally left Berlin in the summer of 1842 the King granted him a further sum of 6000 thalers. His friends gave him a farewell concert on July 13, 1842, for which he wrote both words and music of a song, duly performed and printed, of which a copy is appended.
ADIEU A MES AMIS DE BERLIN.
(20 Juillet, 1842.)
ELÉGIE.
(Annonce.) Asyle cher, où ma Lyre ou Musette A trop longtems soupiré sous mes doigts; Témoin discret de ma peine secrètte, Ecoute-moi pour la dernière fois!
(Explication.) Je vais partir! hélas, l'heure est sonnée, A mes Amis je dis adieu! … Plus ne reviendra la journée Qui me ramène dans ce lieu! … De vous revoir, Amis, plus d'espérance, Quand je m'exile sans retour! Eternelle sera l'absence! Eternel sera mon amour!
(Reflexion.) Pleurez, Amis, o vous, qu'un sort funeste Arrache du toit paternel! Souvent un doux espoir nous reste! Mais l'adieu peut être éternel!
(Application.) Adieu, me dit un tendre père En me pressant contre son sein! De mes pleurs j'inondais sa main! … Et cette fois fut la dernière Qu'il dit adieu, ce tendre père, Qu'en larmes, il me dit adieu!
The emotion expressed in these lines was no feigned one. Spontini felt leaving Berlin very ​much, and at the close of the concert could not speak for tears.
He left few friends behind him. His successor at the opera was Meyerbeer, who, with Mendelssohn, received the title of 'Generalmusik-director.' Neither had very friendly feelings towards him, and their paths as artists widely diverged from his. He is however to this day gratefully remembered by the few surviving members of the King's band. The orchestra were proud of their majestic conductor, who so often led them to triumph, and who moreover had a tender care for their personal interests. The poorer members found his purse ready of access, and in 1826 he established a fund for them, called by special permission the 'Spontini-Fonds,' to which he devoted the whole proceeds of his annual benefit concerts. The fund speedily attained to considerable proportions, and still exists, though the name has been changed.
That he was badly treated by the Berlin public is indisputable. His ill-natured, unjust, spiteful attacks must have been very irritating, as even those who do not belong to the super-sensitive race of artists can understand, but the last scene at the opera looks like a piece of simple brutality, unless we remember that the real ground of offence was his being a foreigner. The political events of the period beginning with the War of Liberation had roused a strong national feeling in Prussia. The denial of a Constitution had concentrated attention on the stage, which thus became a sort of political arena; and that a foreigner, and moreover a naturalised Frenchman, should be laying down the law in this stronghold was intolerable.
In Spontini's character great and mean qualities were almost equally mixed, so that both friends and foes could support their statements by facts, while each shut their eyes to the qualities which they did not wish to see. After his friends had been silenced by the catastrophe of 1841 the verdict of his opponents prevailed, at any rate throughout Germany; but this verdict, we say emphatically, was unjust. The charge that he despised and neglected German music is simply untrue. That he admired and loved our great masters from Handel to Beethoven he proved through life in many ways. Robert relates on unquestionable authority that he made great sacrifices for the family of Mozart. When Nissen published his biography Spontini exerted himself immensely to get subscribers, personally transmitted the money to the widow, superintended the translation of the book into French, and rendered all the help in his power. A preference for his own works must be conceded to any artist actively engaged in production, nor is it reasonable to expect from him an absolutely impartial judgment of the works of others. Weber's music was incomprehensible and anti-pathetic to Spontini, and this did him as much injury in Berlin as anything else. But his delay in performing 'Euryanthe' and 'Oberon' was caused more by inaction than opposition. For Spohr he had a great respect, as he often proved. In Meyerbeer he took a great interest, until the appearance of 'Robert le Diable,' which he could not bear, calling it 'un cadavre'; but this is no reflection on his taste. For the non-performance of the 'Huguenots' he was not responsible, as the prohibition was the King's. He was certainly not justified in calling Marschner's 'Templer und Jüdin' an 'arrangement after Spontini'—always supposing that the expression was his—but everybody knows that Marschner was deeply influenced by him. He was by no means free from envy and jealousy, but, taking for granted that he allowed himself to be swayed by his passions, foreign composers suffered just as much at his hands as German ones. Cherubini he thought very highly of (he mounted 'Les Abencerrages' and sent the composer a considerable sum from the proceeds), but Auber's 'Muette de Portici.' and Halévy's 'Juive' he thoroughly disliked, took no trouble about their production, and was much annoyed at their pleasing the public. Nor did he like Rossini, his own countryman. His horizon was limited, but if it is possible to reconcile genius with narrow-mindedness, if Spohr may be forgiven for appreciating Beethoven only partially, and Weber not at all, we must not be too hard on Spontini. It is sad to see the incapacity of even cultivated people in Berlin to be just towards him. The Mendelssohn family, at whose house he at one time often visited, and to whom he showed many kindnesses, were never on good terms with him after the appearance of the 'Hochzeit des Camacho.' He may not have done justice to that youthful work, but it is a pity that the noble-minded Mendelssohn should have permitted himself the angry and contemptuous expressions to be found in his letters. The painful close of Spontini's career was enough to atone for all his shortcomings. To pursue the rancour against him over his grave, as has been done recently in Germany, is wholly unworthy.
[ P. S.]
* ↑ So called because of the blue uniforms of the pupils. Turchino blue
* ↑ Florimo's 'Cenno storico sulla scuola musicale di Napoli' (Naples, 1869), vol. 1. p. 50. On p. 673 Florimo speaks of Salieri and not Tarantino as Spontini's master.
* ↑ Lichtenthal, 'Dizinnario e Bibliografia della Musica' (Milan 1826), vol. ii. p. 20.
* ↑ Florimo, pp. 595. 609, and elsewhere.
* ↑ I can find no quite satisfactory ground for the statement so often made in print that it was Cimarosa and not Piccinni who gave Spontini instruction in composition.
* ↑ Fétis speaks of yet another opera, 'L'Amore segreto' (Naples, 1799.), but there is no mention of it in Florimo's 4th volume.
* ↑ At least so says Fétis, who was living in Paris from the middle of 1804 to 1811, and who not only took great interest in Spontini's works but was personally acquainted with him. Ledebur, In his 'Berliner Tonkünstler-Lexicon' (Berlin 1861), p. 501, gives a wholly opposite account, but Fétis seems the more credible witness.
* ↑ 'Teichmann's Literary Remains, edited by Dingelstedt' (Stuttgart, Cotta, 1863), p. 415.
* ↑ See Jouy's own account, 'Notes anecdotiques sur l'opéra de la Vestale,' in the 'Théâtre d'Etienne Jouy' (Paris 1824), vol. ii. p. 149, et seq.
* ↑ So says Fétis. Others have stated that besides Cherubini it had been offered to Méhul, Boieldieu, Paer, and others and that the then unknown Spontini was a last resource. That the latter part of the statement is positively untrue we know from Jouy himself, and the rest will not bear examination. The mistakes as to the details of Spontini's life are very numerous. Jouy even did not know the correct date of his birth, for he speaks of him in 1804 as 'à peine agé de vingt-cinq ans.' For a long time he was universally supposed to have been born in 1778.
* ↑ 'Allg. Musik. Zeitung' for 1804, p. 382.
* ↑ The 'Vestale' was a marvel of noise for its day. and a good story was current about it in Paris at the time. A well-known physician had advised a friend to go and hear it as a remedy for his deafness, and accompanied him to the theatre. After one of the loudest bursts, 'Doctor,' cried the friend in ecstacy, 'Doctor, I can hear!' but alas, the doctor made no response, the same noise which had cured his friend had deafened him.
* ↑ See Florimo, 'Scuola Musicale di Napoli,' iv. 268. In his earlier work, 'Cenno storico sulla Scuola musicale di Napoli' (Naples. 1869) p. 631, he says the first performance took place in 1809.
* ↑ Dora's 'Aus meinem Leben.' pt. 3. p. 9; Berlin, Behr, 1870.
* ↑ 'Briefwechsel zwischen Goethe und Zelter,' vol. i. p. 488.
* ↑ Riehl ('Musikalische Charakterköpfe,' 5th ed., Stuttgart, Cotta. 1876, vol. i. p. 192); following Raoul Rochette, 'Notice historique sur la vie et les ouvrages de M. Spontini' (Paris, Firmin Didot, 1852).
* ↑ 'Théâtre d'Etienne Jouy,' vol. ii. p. 199, et seq.
* ↑ In face of this self-evident fact but little importance will be attached to the discovery made in Paris that the Trio 'Créateur de ce nouveau monde,' was an imitation of an 'O salutaris hostia' of Gossec's. See 'Journal des Débats' for June 1, 1817.
* ↑ Fétis.
* ↑ Letter of Brühl to Frederic William III, Oct. 8, 1819.
* ↑ Letters from Spontini to Count Brühl. dated Dec. 22, 1815, and Jan. 14, 1819.
* ↑ A full score, in 3 vols, was published by Erard at Paris.
* ↑ Marx's 'Berliner Allgem. Mus. Zeitung' for 1826, p. 104.
* ↑ 'Aus meinem Leben-Ersverungen' (Berlin 1870), p. 131 et seg.
* ↑ The principal sources upon which we have drawn are papers belonging to the royal theatres of Berlin, and to the Prussian Royal Family.
* ↑ Shew me the land which bold and free, Has crushed the head of tyranny!
* ↑ Published by Schlesinger of Berlin.
* ↑ In 1875 it was sung to fresh words at a gala-performance at the Scala of Milan in honour of the present Emperor.
* ↑ The importance of this event in Hensel's life may be seen from the 'Mendelssohn Family,' vol. 1. p. 95.
* ↑ 'Lalla Rûkh. A festival play with songs and dances, performed at the Royal Palace of Berlin, Jan. 27, 1821. Edited by Count Brühl and S. H. Spiker. Berlin, L. W. Wittich, 1822,' PF. score, Schlesinger of Berlin.
* ↑ O stay in our cover We pray and entreat you; No elephants have we, But worthier game.
* ↑ Gubitz, 'Erlebnisse,' vol. iii. p. 241. Berlin, 1869.
* ↑ 'Carl Maria von Weber' by Max von Weber, vol. ii. p. 806. Leipzig, 1864.
* ↑ He conducted the 99th performance of 'Der Freischütz' (Nov. 6, 1826), for the benefit of Weber's widow and children, which was much to his credit considering his dislike to the piece.
* ↑ Bernhard Weber died March 23, 1821.
* ↑ 'Aus meinem Leben,' Part iii. p. 3.
* ↑ Devrient's 'Recollections of Mendelssohn,' p. 33.
* ↑ Blume on 'Alcidor,' in the Theatre archives.
* ↑ 'Aus meinem Leben,' First collection, p. 127.
* ↑ In the First Act of Olympia.
* ↑ Richard Wagner's Erinnerung an Spontini; Gesammelte Schriften. vol. v. p. 110 (Leipzig, Fritzsche, 1872).
* ↑ Weber's setting of these words was his last competition, dated London, May 25, 1826. F. W. Jähns. 'C. 31. von Weber in seinen Werken,' p. 409. Berlin, Schlesinger, 1871.
* ↑ C. M. von Weber, by Max von Weber, ii 433.
* ↑ Ledebur, 'Berliner Tonkünstler-Lexicon,' p. 564.
* ↑ Allzudoll, vulgarism for Allzutoll = quite too mad; Zauderoper = slow opera, because of the time it had taken to write.
* ↑ Correspondence of Goethe and Zelter, iv. 39, 40.
* ↑ The song 'Vénus n'avait pas tort,' [App. p.796 "for 'Vénus n'avait pas tort' read 'Au bruit des lourds marteaux.'"] from Gounod's 'Philémon et Baucis,' so finely sung by Mr. Santley. has familiarised London audiences with the anvil as an accompaniment.
* ↑ 'Spontini in Deutschland,' p. 102 (Leipzig, Steinacker und Hartknoch, 1830).
* ↑ As for instance the Nun's Chorus in the 2nd act.
* ↑ Goethe's Works, Goedecke's edition, vol. xill. p. 632. Cotta. Also 'Spontini in Deutschland,' p. 22. Leipzig, 1830.
* ↑ Robert's 'Spontini,' p. 34. Berlin, 1883.
* ↑ In 'Spontini in Deutschland' this libretto is said to be by Jouy. I have not been able to ascertain whether it was Jouy's work revised by Raupach, or an original production.
* ↑ Raupach had intended to have tableaux vivants to each five stanzas; but this was not carried out.
* ↑ Ledebur gives a tolerably complete catalogue of Spontini's smaller works; see p. 570. Also Marx, in the 'Berliner Allg. Mus. Zeitung' for 1826, p.306.
* ↑ Gubitz's 'Erlebnlsse,' iii. 242.
* ↑ Marx, 'Berliner Allg. Mus. Zeitung,' 1828, pp. 146 and 152.
* ↑ Grandaur, 'Chronik des königl. Theaters in München,' p. 106. Munich, 1878.
* ↑ Schmidt's 'Denkwürdigkeiten.' Edited by Uhde. Part ii. p. 314 Stuttgart, Cotta, 1878.
* ↑ Leipzig, Whistling, 1827.
* ↑ It has been often, and even recently, stated that two articles by Rellstab in Cäcilia ('Aus dem Nachlass eines jüngen Künstlers,' vol. iv. pp. 1–42, and 'Julius. Eine musikalische Novelle,' vol. vi. pp. 1–108) refer to Spontini. This is quite untrue, but it shows how carelessly damaging statements about Spontini are repeated.
* ↑ Attributed, quite untruly, to Dorn.
* ↑ 'The Lament of Herr Ritter Gasparo Spontini .... over the decline of dramatic music. Translated from the French, with explanatory remarks by a body of friends and admirers of the great master.' Leipzig, Michelsen. 1837.
* ↑ Given as printed. It seems to have been a little different at the performance. See Robert, p. 52, etc.
* ↑ His study.
* ↑ Twenty-three years.
* ↑ Robert, p. 56, etc.
* ↑ The statement in the 'Mendelssohn Family,' vol. i. p. 124. that be threw obstacles in the way of the performance of 'Jessonda' is quite unfounded. The minutes of the King's Theatre prove the contrary.
* ↑ Devrient's 'Recollections.' p. 23.
* ↑ Among others see Devrient. p. 74.
* ↑ Florimo, 'Cenno Storico,' p. 595.
* ↑ Whether anything came of this offer is not known, but Gregory XVI. had a high esteem for Spontini, and asked for his views on the restoration of Catholic church-music.
* ↑ For a clever and amusing account of it see Wagner's 'Gesammelte Schriften,' v. 114.
* ↑ Dorn's 'Aus meinem Leben,' vol. Hi. p. 21.