A COMPOSER of the present day stands in no need of that divine spark which comes from above. All that is required now is, to place himself within a musical circle, composed of some thirty of the operas of Rossini, spread open for the facility of instant reference. It is true that he will find in these works much genius, much that abounds in beauty, grace, and vigour; but he will also meet with numerous passages, not to say whole motivos, which this master has had the address, by a thousand ingenious devices, such as embellishing, altering the movement, &c. &c., to appropriate to himself from others. The composer, therefore, who is thus seated in the midst of these volumes, may go to work without much apprehension, as he will here find brought into one focus all the scattered rays of beauty that he would have to collect, with no small labour, from hundreds of volumes. A ready artist need not trouble himself much with the deeper studies of composition, as the public will give him sufficient credit for talent, if he do but possess the happy art of combinations, and can produce a piece of ingenious mosaic work. Let him but get a good subject, no matter how, and it will not be difficult to conceal the theft under a mass of noisy instrumentation. In the midst of this clamour, too, the many errors in harmony will be equally hidden. It may be observed, that the rules we have thus laid down are equally applicable in the composition of a symphony, terzetto, aria, duet, finale, &c., since in all our modern works the same form, the same colouring, the same general process is considered indispensable: above all, it must never be forgotten that, on every occasion, the orchestra should be everything; song, sentiment, situation, &c., must give way to this. To say the truth, such is the feature by which modern music is distinguished from that of the old school, which was silly enough to allow melody to take the lead, and paid it, on all occasions, the most unaccountable respect. The modern composer must not neglect to provide himself with a ready-made store of showy piano and harp passages, with which he must sprinkle pretty thickly the parts for the voice; and when he gets hold of a soprano air, let him ornament the conclusion of it with a flight of demi-semiquavers, the more unvocal the better. And even if the singer should find it difficult to hit them off, never mind, the public will not be a whit the wiser. But one of the principal rules to be observed is this, that no rest of any kind, no pause, must be allowed the wind-instruments; the trumpet, the trombone, the drum, and the octave-flute most be kept incessantly at work, so as to deprive the hearer of every means of following the singer, who, to say the truth, has not in general much to do with the piece, and is only an object of subordinate interest in the opera. Now if an artist has wit enough to compose according to these rules, let him begin every piece with an assortment of strong chords, with the indication mark of the pause over the last. Upon this should follow a pizzicato movement of violins and basses, which is immediately to be succeeded by the motivo, (taken, as before observed, from some of the open books by which the composer is encircled,) performed by the bassoon and clarionets. This motivo must soon make its appearance again, and be given either by the octave-flute or the singer, just as may suit; for it is quite a matter of indifference whether the singer or that instrument performs it. And now a transition should be made into some out-of-the-way key; a series of skipping passages should follow, which should invite the feet to dance, and lead in, upon ‘light fantastic toe,’ the never-failing crescendo. Again: a transition should be made, by a series of modulations of the most extraneous kind, into the original pizzicato movement. At last a flight of quadruple-tailed notes should wind up the singer to the very acme of exertion, supposing breath enough left for the operation; the drum, the trumpet, the trombone, and the octave-flute should be summoned to display all their energies, and this concluding burst should not cease till the moment when the public think the proper time is come to assist with vehement applause. Ye modern composers, forget not the debt of gratitude you will owe me, for having thus liberally let you into the secret of the art! Hie ye to London! first getting letters to the Duchesa di——, who will introduce you to some English bookseller, or some third-rate French actor, neither of whom, you will find will understand one note of music; therefore you will have no cause to fear detection. You will be sure of applause from persons kept in a kind of pay for the purpose; and there are journalists enough to assist the fogs in mystifying the public, and to make you a reputation for a year or two, during which time, if you do not fill your pockets with English guineas, you will be proved unworthy of the advice now given you by your friend ROSSINI, JUNIOR. |
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