1831.] Stories of Living Musicians. 267 



The strings of his destiny were not always golden ones, nor was the 

 science of sound continually that of harmony to the ears of the great 

 master. // Barbicrc di SivigUa had a singular fate on its earliest repre- 

 sentations at the Theatre d' Argentina at Rome, where it was produced 

 in 1816. A vai-iety of unlucky accidents attended the first performance. 

 Conscious of the merits of the piece, and sensible of the high support 

 promised by the ability of the actors, the elated composer assumed a 

 prominent station in the orchestra ; and that he might not be confounded 

 in the eye of the audience with the vulgar mass of symphoniaci, he had 

 invested himself with a vermillion-coloured coat — a gai'b which, however 

 it might dazzle the eyes of some, produced the most discordant laughter 

 in others, and sadly deranged the effect of the overture. The poor 

 maestro' s features became identified with the colour of his habit. The part 

 of Almaviva having been assigned to Garcia, as he attempted to commence 

 the serenade, the various chords of his guitar, with an unanimity 

 somewhat remarkable, suddenly snapped, and hisses pursued the un- 

 happy minstrel as he fled the stage. The nerves of the composer were 

 fearfully shaken, and his confidence in his work was gradually lessening, 

 when all his hopes were at once crushed by a luckless adventure that oc- 

 curred to Figaro, in the person of Zamboni ; who by some accident or other 

 made a false step as he entered, and, falling upon his face, struck the most 

 prominent feature of it so violently, as to produce from it a ci'imson stream. 

 Forgetful, in his terror, of his handkerchief, Zamboni hurriedly ap- 

 plied the skirts of his dress to stop the blushing torrent, while shouts of 

 laughter spoke more the fastidious taste, than the humanity, of the audi- 

 ence. In the confusion that ensued, the humbled but indignant com- 

 positore fled the theatre, Avhile the opera was terminated amidst signs of 

 contempt and disapprobation. The pride of Rossini was humbled ; all 

 his better hopes were destroyed. Could he have withdrawn the piece, 

 he would have been comparatively happy ; but it was necessary that it 

 should undergo a renewed ordeal on the succeeding evening. Well 

 aware of the violent passions of a Roman audience, and the uncompli- 

 mentary mode of giving them expression, when the fatal hour ap- 

 proached he locked himself in his chamber. Alone, and trembling for 

 his fame and person, the weary hours of that eventful evening passed 

 by no means pleasantly, until the neighbouring bells sounded the hour 

 of midnight — when a distant rumour, as of numerous voices, reached his 

 ear. lie opened his casement with a nervous hand, and it became more 

 distinct each moment, until, at a tvirning of the street, " Rossini ! 

 Rossini !" was vehemently ejaculated. Closing his window in affright, 

 he sank despairing on a seat, until the repetition of the cry at the very 

 door of his dwelling recalled him to a sense of danger, and the necessity 

 of averting it. Confused murmurs and many steps were heard upon the 

 stairs ; " Rossini ! Rossini !" was shouted simultaneously with repeated 

 knocks at his chamber-door ; but Rossini answered not. The outcry 

 and battery became yet more violent, until, to his horror, he heard the 

 portal give way, and " Signore Maestro \" and " Rossini ! Rossini !" 

 formed the chorus that accompanied the violation of his domicile. He 

 was not there. " Where could he be?" was the general inquiry, until 

 one of more acute vision than the rest discerned, beneath the bed, some 

 of tlie vestiary appendages of the concealed musician. With a yell of 

 triumph lu- was dragged forth; " Santa Maria ! Hignora Compatevole 1" 

 ejaculated the aflrightcd harmonist ; when it was announced to him that 



