‘La pietra del paragone’ is seventh
in the Rossini oeuvre and one of no
fewer than six of his operas that had
their first performance in 1812 when
the composer was a mere twenty years
old. Of these six works, the ‘farsa’,
‘L’inganno felice’, first produced on
8 January that year, was largely written
in 1811. The production in May 1812
of ‘Demetrio e Polibio’, his first stage
work, was a delayed student effort.
However, the remaining works were written
in 1812 itself; quite a pace of composition.
This might explain the illness that
further compounded the first night pressures
of ‘La pietra del paragone’ at La Scala.
Rossini had been greatly helped in securing
the commission from La Scala by two
singers who had appeared in his earlier
works at ‘Teatro San Moisè’ Venice,
where five of his first nine operas
received their first productions. The
first night of ‘La pietra del paragone’
on 26 September was a resounding success,
going on to a further 52 performances
that season. It was undoubtedly the
pinnacle of Rossini’s first period and
barely a year before he received international
recognition with ‘Tancredi’ and ‘L’Italiana
in Algeri’ premiered at Venice’s La
Fenice and San Benedetto theatres respectively.
It was in the finale of ‘La pietra del
paragone’ that the public first heard
the Rossini crescendo. More importantly
the composer was, as a consequence of
its success, exempted military service;
very useful when the 90,000 Italian
conscripts were sustaining heavy losses
in the Peninsular War and on the Russian
Campaign!
Despite its reputation
amongst Rossini enthusiasts and scholars,
‘La pietra del paragone’ has fared poorly
in the theatre and on record. A 1972
recording on Vanguard featuring the
young Carreras is still shown in the
catalogue, as has been an abbreviated
live performance on Nuova Era. It featured
at Glyndebourne in 1964 in a bowdlerised
Germanic version that greatly offended
Gui and, to the best of my knowledge,
hasn’t been seen there since. However,
the work has maintained its popularity
in Germany in a version by Günther
Rennart under the title ‘Die Liebespoke’
which the Naxos booklet suggests takes
away much of the charm of the original
and degrades it to an operetta. The
establishment of the Rossini Foundation
at Pesaro, the composer’s birthplace,
and the associated annual Rossini Festival,
were bound to get round to this work.
It was presented there, in an updated
staging, in 2002, a year after its production
at the Wildbad Festival from which this
live recording originates.
The libretto of the
opera, by Luigi Romanelli, one of La
Scala’s resident writers, was according
to Richard Osborne (‘Rossini’, Dent’s
‘Master Musicians’ series) ‘no masterpiece
but allowed Rossini to show off his
paces to Italy’s smartest audience
as a wit, as a romantic scene painter…’
The improbable, not to say convoluted
plot, involves the affluent Count Asdrubale
who wants a wife who will love him for
himself not his status or wealth. He
is pursued by three widows and constructs
a plot to be seen to be bankrupt which
enables him to ascertain that it is
only Clarice of the three who really
loves him. She in turn tests the Count
by disguising herself as her own twin
brother and threatening to remove Clarice.
Needless to say all ends happily.
Most unusually in opera,
a bass and a low mezzo or contralto
sing the two lovers, the Count and Clarice.
In this performance Clarice is sung
by the Polish mezzo Agata Bienkowska
who graduated from the ‘Danzig Musikhochschule’
in 1998. She made an impact at Wildbad
that year in ‘Il Viaggio a Reims’ under
the baton of the eminent Rossini scholar
and conductor Alberto Zedda. The following
years she was awarded the festival’s
‘Bel-Canto Prize’. Since then she has
gone on to sing the ‘primo’ Rossini
roles of Cenerentola, Rosina and Isabella
at the Rome Opera and Tancredi elsewhere
in Italy. These are the cream of the
Rossini mezzo roles and her Clarice
here evinces a rich-toned flexible voice
of considerable promise (CD 1 tr. 6).
As the Count, Raffaele Costantini is
firm voiced with the odd raw patch in
his tone but he characterises well (CD
1 trs. 7-10). Gioacchino Zarrelli as
the poet is rather throaty in his aria
‘Ombretta stegnose’ (CD 1 t. 11) whilst
the Polish bass Dariusz Machej as the
venal journalist is deserving of his
promotion to Pesaro. As Giocondo, friend
of the Count and modest suitor of Clarice,
Alessandro Codeluppi is full toned and
steady in his Act 2 scene and aria (CD
2 trs. 5-6). Unfortunately he has too
much steel in his voice and is a little
strained by the higher tessitura in
ensembles to be the ideal Rossini tenor.
The conductor, Alessandro
de Marchi, is well known in early music
circles. He brings clear articulation
to the ensembles but without sweeping
the listener along with the plot and
Rossini’s creation. In this respect
he is certainly not helped by the frequent
breaks for applause at the end of each
‘number’. By the end these become positively
intrusive. The recording is clear with
a good balance between voices and orchestra
in what sounds like a smallish theatre.
Stage noise intrudes from time to time
(CD 1 trs. 11-12). The booklet has a
simple track-listing, a very diffuse
essay on the background and composition
of the opera and a track-related synopsis
interspersed with scene descriptions
... rather confusing. There are very
welcome artist profiles.
This performance does
not convert me to the view held by some
that ‘La pietra del paragone’ is the
first full flowering of Rossini’s genius.
‘Tancredi’ premiered six months later
on 6 February 1813 and ‘L’Italiana in
Algeri’ on 22 May of the same year are
true works of genius.
Robert J Farr
see also
review by Colin Clarke
Czech Chamber Chorus 
