In 1856, Rossini came to Frankfurt, Schopenhauer's home town, and was seen dining at the Englischer Hof, the philosopher's favorite spot. Alerted in advance, Schopenhauer arranged with the management to be seated near the composer. But he did not rise to say hello; instead, too shy or too proud, he lingered in Rossini's vicinity for the duration of the meal.That Schopenhauer, that titan of Teutonic seriousness, should be so infatuated with the rather silly music of Rossini, is curious. To be certain, Rossini has his moments; the man could write an overture. But one doubts that his musical idiom was really conducive to expressing the full range of human experience. His Stabat Mater is a particularly egregious example. The depth of the despair of the Theotokos, whose heart was pierced also, is expressed as an hour-long overblown extroverted operatic tour-de-force. I heard the tenor aria "Cujus animam" at a recital once, and was hard-pressed to keep from laughing at the incongruïty.
And yet it is satisfying, somehow, that Schopenhauer took a dim view of Wagner (who, in turn, idolized him, regardless). De gustibus non est disputandum, at any rate.
