age in
praise, Rossini replied, quietly:

"I agree with you. But the duet wasn't mine; it was written by this
gentleman."

Such kindness combined with such ingenuity tells more about the great
man than many volumes of commentaries. For Rossini was a great man. The
young people of to-day are in no position to judge his works, which were
written, as he said himself, for singers and a public who no longer
exist.

"I am criticised," he said one day, "for the great _crescendo_ in my
works. But if I hadn't put the _crescendo_ into my works, they would
never have been played at the Opera."

In our day the public are slaves. I have read in the programme of one
house, "All marks of approbation will be severely repressed." Formerly,
especially in Italy, the public was master and its taste law. As it came
before the lights were up, a great overture with a _crescendo_ was as
necessary as cavatinas, duets and ensembles: they came to hear the
singers and not to be present at an opera. In many of his works,
especially in _Otello_, Rossini made a great step forward towards
realism in opera. In _Moise_ and _Le Siege de Corinthe_ (not to mention
_Guillaume Tell_) he rose to heights which have not been surpassed in
spite of the poverty of the means at his disposal. As Victor Hugo has
victoriously demonstrated, such poverty is no obstacle to genius and
wealth in them is only an advantage to mediocrity.

I was one of the regular pianists at Rossini's. The others were
Stanzieri, a charming young man of whom Rossini was very fond and who
lived but a short time, and Diemer, who was also young but already a
great artist. One or the other of us would often play at the evening
entertainments the slight pieces for the piano which the Master used to
write to take up his time. I was only too willing to accompany the
singers, when Rossini did not do so himself. He accompanied them
admirably for he played the piano to perfection.

[Illustration: Mme. Patti]

Unfortunately I was not there the evening that Patti sang for Rossini
the first time. We know that after she had sung the aria from _Le
Barbier_, he said to her, after the usual compliments,

"Who wrote that aria you just sang?"

I saw him three days afterwards and he hadn't cooled off even then.

"I am fully aware," he said, "that arias should be embellished. That's
what they are for. But not to leave a note of them even in the
recitatives! That is too much!"

In his irritation he