Page:A Dictionary of Music and Musicians vol 2.djvu/527

OPERA.

His first doubt as to the logical consistency of the orthodox Italian Opera seems to have been suggested by the unsatisfactory effect of a Pasticcio, called 'Piramo e Tisbe,' which he produced in London in the year 1746. In this piece he contrived to introduce a large collection of Airs, chosen from his best and most popular works: yet it wholly failed to fulfil his expectations, not because the Music was in fault, but because it was altogether unsuited to the situations of the Drama. The reader will, it is to be hoped, remember the grand principle which we assumed as our point d'appui at the opening of the present article—that the Lyric Drama could neither be pronounced inconsistent nor illogical, so long as Music was employed as a means of intensifying the expression of Poetry, and therefore (as a natural consequence) of increasing the dramatic power of the Scenes it depicted. It was upon this principle that Peri and Caccini based their experiments, at Florence, when they first attempted to clothe the theories of Giovanni Bardi and his enthusiastic associates with a definite form; and, theoretically, the position was never disputed. But as the Art of Composition, assisted by increased orchestral resources and an improved system of Vocalisation, threw off the trammels of its early stiffness, and attained, step by step, the perfection of symmetrical Form, Composers were tempted to sacrifice the interest of the Drama to that of the Music which should have tended to illustrate it. The real force of the most striking situations was lost in the endeavour to fill them with captivating Arias, calculated to gratify, at the same time, the popular taste and the vanity of individual Singers. As the number of great Singers multiplied, the abuse grew daily more and more antagonistic to the enunciation of æsthetic truth, until the Opera was degraded into a mere collection of Songs, connected together by Recitatives which seemed designed more with the idea of providing breathing-time for the Singer, than that of developing the plot of the piece, or rendering its details intelligible to the audience. In Handel's Operas we find no trace of the weakness engendered by this ill-judged though almost universal conformity to the prevailing fashion. His Recitativo secco is designed on so grand a scale, and is made the vehicle of so much dramatic expression, that the action of his pieces is never permitted to drag: but, in the works of Hasse, and Porpora, and other popular writers of the Ninth Period, the defect we speak of is painfully apparent. Against this state of things, which Benedetto Marcello had already censured in no measured terms, Gluck's hatred of falsehood and incongruity in all that concerned his beloved Art could not fail to rebel. He felt that the system was based, from first to last, on a fatal mistake; yet could not, for the time, suggest a remedy sufficiently potent to remove an evil so deeply rooted. He therefore patiently endeavoured to attain a clearer insight into the sources of the error, studying diligently, and in the meantime making a great name by the production of Operas written in a style which he himself was rapidly learning to despise, but with which the general public were enchanted. It was not until 1762, sixteen years after his memorable visit to England, that he made any serious attempt to express his new ideas in a tangible form. He was, at that time, settled at Vienna, and on terms of intimate friendship with the Italian poet Calsabigi, who fully entered into his views, and, at his request, furnished him with a Libretto, written on principles totally opposed to those of Metastasio, with whom he had previously worked in concert. The new Opera was an experimental one, both on the part of the Composer and the Librettist. Gluck carried out his new theories, as far as he had succeeded in perfecting them; made his Music everywhere subservient to the action of the Drama; finished his Airs without the stereotyped Da capo; introduced appropriate Choruses, and other Concerted Pieces; and never sacrificed the true rendering of a dramatic situation for the sake of attracting attention to his own powers as a Composer, or of affording a popular Singer the opportunity of displaying the flexibility of his Voice. On the other hand, he was most careful to make the musical portion of the work as interesting as was compatible with due regard to the demands of its scenic construction. When it was possible to introduce a fascinating Melody, without injury to the general effect, he gladly availed himself of the opportunity of doing so—witness his delightful 'Che farò senza Euridice,' than which no lovelier Song was ever written: while, so far as the Choruses were concerned, he was equally expressive in the pathetic strains allotted to the Shepherds in the First Act, and the shrieks of the threatening Fiends in the Second.