VERDL
SANE persons of an unmusical turn may resent the fuss that has been made over the production of Verdi's new opera, to the temporary eclipse in our daily papers of the Bulgarian and European problems. Even those who are interested in the matter cannot repress a smile on encountering, amid paragraphs of a purely political character, a despatch from Milan—or " Otellopolis," as an Italian bnmourist has called it—to the effect that the second performance " has been postponed in con- sequence of the indisposition of Signor Tamagno, whose throat has been damaged by the alternate hot and cold blasts that have prevailed." But after making all allowance for the frothy and factitious enthusiasm which has been expended over Otello,it must be admitted that a good many circumstances have combined to lend an almost unique character to the occasion. After a silence of some fifteen years, Verdi, like a musical Cincinnatus, has exchanged the pursuits and pleasures of a gentleman-farmer for the fatigues and excitement of the opera-house, with the cer- tainty of attracting the interest and inspiring the admiration of musicians of nearly every school and nation. To old-fashioned opera-goers, no matter how deeply they may regret the recent development of his style, he always remains the composer of It Trovatore, La Traviata, and Rigoletto, and as such will be judged retrospectively, as befits the last representative of the high art of his country. At the other extreme, the Wagnerians, or a certain number of them, point to him with triumph as a distinguished convert to the doctrines, harmonic and dramatic, of their master, and as forecasting the ultimate victoryof his principles. Between these two sections, the moderates prefer to regard Verdi as a composer who has marched with the times, and whose work, whether modified by organic development or by external in- fluences, combines at the period of his ripe maturity the intel- lectuality of the Teuton with the graceful charm of the Italian genius. No doubt the great age of the composer—seventy-three —is a remarkable circumstance ; but we think undue stress is laid upon this fact. For, not to mention the unimpaired powers of Anber at a much greater age, a fairer parallel is to be found in Parsifai, written when Wagner was but a very few years younger. So much, then, for the causes which help to explain the astonishing amount of space that has been devoted to the discussion of the new opera. It should be added, moreover, that Verdi's impenetrable reserve and notorious distaste for publicity have probably tended to pique the cariosity of journalists and interviewers to an abnormal extent, stimulating them to feats of bold invention when no facts were forthcoming. One ingenious Italian critic played off a successful trick upon his foreign colleagues by gravely asserting that all wind instni- meats of the Sax family were to be excluded ; and this mild piece of satire directed against recent exhibitions of ultra- patriotic feeling in music, was religiously repeated and believed in for a while by the French Press. Since the production of the opera, a certain section of French critics have expressed their regret that Verdi should have allowed himself to be led captive by Wagner, whose baneful influence they trace in the want of carrure of the new work. However, these gentlemen are to have their revenge, for we understand that the management of the Grand Opera at Paris, where the new work is shortly to be produced, have bargained for the interpolation of a ballet, in deference to the immemorial usage of that institution. Could a more striking proof be furnished of the tenacious adhesion to convention which has ever been a mark of the French character, and to which Tourgn6neff bore such pointed testimony by the saying, attributed to one of his characters, that the only two types of Frenchmen were M. Proudhon and Robespierre ? Were the subject King Lear, there would have to be a ballet beyond a doubt. Readers of Bizet's life will not fail to recall how, in order to snit the exigencies of a libretto founded upon Scott's "Fear Maid of Perth," he had to compose music for a Scotch Carnival which the librettist had represented as taking place in that town. It is not our purpose in this place to add any more to the exhaustive accounts of the new opera which have appeared in our daily papers from the correspondents who journeyed expressly to Milan in order to be present at its pro- duction. But before proceeding to refer to M. Pongin's pleasant " anecdotal " life* of Verdi, we may call attention to the signi- ficant fact, noticed, we think, by the Times' correspondent, that on an occasion of such national importance, no first-rate prima donna was forthcoming, while one of the three leading riles was confided not to a native artist, but a Frenchman. It is difficult to avoid construing this into a symptom of the de- cadence of Italian voices. But it is consoling to reflect that an exactly similar complaint was made some seventy years ago, just before the emergence of such a phalanx of great singers as the world has probably never seen.
Biographies of living notabilities are one of the nuisances of contemporary literature ; but if we must have them, we can wish for no more judicious method of procedure than that adopted by M. Pougin. Never overstepping the bounds of the " anecdotal frame" which he has prescribed himself, be has steered clear of all trivial personalities and vulgar gossip. His respect for Verdi's character, and his admiration for his genius, never lead him into the fulsome adulation so often observable in works of the sort ; on the contrary, he makes no effort to extenuate some harsh traits in the portrait of his hero. Lastly, he abstains from attempting any critical estimate of Verdi's works, rightly judging such an effort both premature and inappropriate. Turning to the work itself, one cannot help being struck at the contrast between the tranquil ease of Verdi's old age, and the hardships and sufferings of his youth. Born in 1813, of very humble parentage, he had his full share of the troubles and rebuffs which so often prove the best school for genius. In 1814, he narrowly escaped massacre at the hands of the Russian troops ; on another occasion he was nearly drowned. The authorities of the Conservatoire at Milan refused to admit him as a papiL Finally, after marrying the daughter of his benefactor, he lost his wife and both children within the space of three months, before he was twenty-seven years of age. And in the midst of his affliction, he bad to finish and produce an opera-bouffe ! In 1842, his first successful opera, Nabucco, was produced. Speaking to a friend after the performance, he admitted that he could hardly believe in the reality of his triumph. "I assure you that at the argil° of the first finale, when all the spectators in the stalls and pit stood up cheering and shouting, I thought at first that they were making fun of the poor composer." After this, Verdi was able to command his own terms, asking £270 for his next opera. By 1870, his price had grown to 24,000, and, if we are to believe the statements of the Press, he is to receive double that sum for Otelto. Officialism was the chief obstacle that Verdi had to contend against in the course of his subsequent career. The Lombardi, which he wrote immediately after Nabucco, brought him into conflict with the Archbishop of Milan, who had directed the police to forbid its performance, on the ground that certain sacred rites were represented on the stage. More frequently it was the political tendencies of his operas which aroused the vigilance of the censorship. It is not necessarily to be supposed that he went out of his way to inflame the minds of his fellow-countrymen, though his sympathies were with their aspirations after national union. But his music doubtless re- flected the general fermentation of the period, and the situa- tions in his operas were occasionally turned to political account by the performers,—e.g., in 1847, during the performance of his Macbeth. A dozen years later, the extraordinary political popu- larity of Verdi was due entirely to the cabalistic value of the lettere of which it was composed—V. E. R. D. I. standing for Vittorio-Bmanuele, Be D'Italia—so that Viva Verdi! became a sort of rallying cry or watchword in the struggle for union. He sat in the first national Parliament, and was made a Senator in 1875, but evinced no aptitude for politics, and never took part in any debate. The most singular instance of this intervention of the censorship occurred in the year 1858, when Verdi was super- intending the rehearsals of his opera, the Ballo in Maschera, at Naples. The news of Orsini's attempt having come to hand, the authorities withdrew their permission for the representation of the opera, on the ground that the assassination of Gustavus III., which occurs in the piece, might encourage regicide. Finally, after various vicissitudes, the opera was produced at Rome, after it had been arranged that " the action of the piece should take place in America, and that instead of the murder of Gustavus IIL, the management should be satisfied with repre-
• Verdi: Histai. Ammlotique do . lie et de set Ma.. Par Arthur Pougin. Paris Oahe.. Diu. senting that of the Earl of Warwick, Governor of the town of Boston !" After the censorship, prime donne seem to have given Verdi most trouble. The Traviata, though destined to become one of his most popular works, was a complete fiasco on its first per- formance. This was due, according to M. Pongin, not to any defect of vocal ability on the part of the representative of the unhappy heroine, but to her excess of fat ; so that when the doctor announced that she was in a rapid decline, the audience were convulsed with laughter, just as they were when Lablache, in the Briganti of Mercadante, emerged from a tower where he was supposed to have languished for many years. Then, again, the production of The Sicilian Vespers—a strange subject, as M. Pongin points out, for the directors of the French opera to suggest to an Italian composer—was seriously delayed by the historic flight of Madame Cruvelli from Paris. And, lastly, in Ernani, the dissatisfaction of the prima donna— Madame Loewe—at not having sufficient opportunities for dis- play, came very near having disastrous consequences. Of a stubborn and unyielding nature, Verdi appears to have worked most successfully in conjunction with Piave, the most pliable of the half-dozen librettists whom he has employed in the course of his long career. According to M. Pougin, Verdi practically writes his own libretto,—"that is to say, he not only invariably chooses the subjects of his operas, but also traces the outlines of the librettos, indicates all the situations, constructs them almost entirely as far as concerns their general framework, and
supplies his dramatis persona so that his collaborateur has only to follow his indications, to finish off the whole, and to write the verses." Along with this imperiousness, Verdi unites many thoroughly admirable characteristics, modesty and generosity being perhaps the most remarkable. M. Pougin's pleasant volume abounds in good stories, which we will not spoil by quoting, but rather recommend our readers to enjoy for themselves, either in the original French, or in the trans- lation recently published by Messrs. Grevel.
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