Margherita Barezzi
Margherita Barezzi
"In a popular sense," writes Mr. Lumley, "the opera was a decided success; the choral melodies especially suiting the public taste. The libretto, although faulty in many respects, was dramatic, and afforded scope for fine acting and artistic emotion.Nabucco, in short, floated on the sea of the Anglo-Italian stage where, whilst one current was always rushing towards novelty, another tended to wreck all novelty whatever, in the interests of so-called 'classicism.' Much had been done to place the opera with splendour on the stage, but though it pleased on the whole, no decided success attended the venture of the two new ladies. Sanchioli, wild, vehement, and somewhat coarse, attracted and excited by her 'power, spirit, and fire,' but she failed to charm. As a 'declaiming, passionate vocalist' she created an effect; but the very qualitieswhich had rendered her so popular with an Italian audience, acted somewhat repulsively upon English opera-goers. The lack of refinement in her style was not, in their eyes, redeemed by the merit of energy. The electric impulse that communicated itself to the Italians, fell comparatively powerless on the British temperament. Sanchioli, however, was in many respects the 'right woman in the right place' in this melodramatic opera. The other lady, Mademoiselle Corbari, though destined in after times to please greatly as analtra-primaon the Anglo-Italian stage, and though she was considered from the first charming, even 'fascinating' in her simplicity and grace, was not yet acknowledged as a leading vocalist. The nervousness and inexperience of a novice, which she showed at that stage of her career, somewhat lessened the success due to a sweet voice and feeling style, though the prayer allotted to her character Fenena, was encored nightly. Fornasari pleased those who remained of his old enthusiastic admirers, by his emphatic dramatic action and vigorous declamation, and thus far worked towards the success of Verdi's opera."[5]
The libretto ofNinoorNabuccois based upon the history of the Assyrians and Babylonians at the epoch when these two nations were distinct. Ninus, the son of Belus, the first Assyrian monarch, is engaged in exterminating the Babylonians. He profanes their temple, insults their faith, and finally falls a victim to the vengeance of Isis. He goes mad. His supposed daughter, Abigail, obtains possession of the kingdom, to the exclusion of his lawful heiress, Fenena, who is about to be sacrificed with the Babylonians, whose faith she has embraced, when Ninus, repenting of his evil deeds, recovers his reason in time to save her from death, and the drama winds up with the submission of the proud monarch and his whole court to Isis.
"This opera," wrote a capable critic at the time, "the first by which the young composer achieved his exalted reputation, and which has been received abroad with enthusiasm, is a most remarkable work. It is characterised by merits of the highest order. This is shown in the splendid finale of the first act, commencing with the charmingterzettinowhich has been for some time already afavourite with English dilettanti; the canon preceding the punishment of Nino, in the second act; the duet 'Oh! di qual onta' between the latter and Abigail in the third act, in which the voices are made to combine in the most exquisite manner; the charming chorus, 'Va, pensiero,' flowing and plaintive; and the final prayer 'Terribil Iside,' sung without instrumental accompaniment. Thesemorceauxrequire to be studied in detail for their beauties to be fully appreciated; but they nevertheless produce, at first hearing, an effect which pieces abounding, as they do, in imagination and remarkable excellence of construction, do not always obtain. They are more highly characteristic. The opening chorus, 'Gli arredi festivi giu cadono infranti,' is severe and characteristic, and altogether peculiar in its construction. The first aria of Orotaspe is very remarkable in point of composition. The first part of the solo of Abigail, which is much admired, did not produce at first hearing any deep impression on ourselves; the second part is very good, and characteristic of the vengeful Amazon. The prayer for soprano at the end of the opera, 'Oh, dischinso e il firmamento,'is a charming little bit of melody. In fine, in the music of the opera the composer has shown himself possessed of all the legitimate sources of success. It bears the stamp of genius and deep thought, and its effect upon the public proved that its merits were appreciated."[6]
This favourable view, however, was far from being endorsed by all the leading critics—inasmuch as it was withNinothat Verdi experienced more of his early and remarkable castigations in the English press.
Henry Fothergill Chorley, English musician, art critic, novelist, verse writer, journalist, dramatist, general writer, traveller, etc., was musical critic of theAthenæumfrom 1833 to 1871, a period which covers Verdi's career down to the production ofAïda, and it is fair to assume, therefore, that the contributions, signed and unsigned, which appeared in theAthenæumwere the views and expressions of that gentleman—deceased. James William Davison, English composer and writer (1813-1885), was musical critic ofThe Timesto the day of his death, so that that gentleman, also deceased, may be credited with the emanationsrespecting Verdi and his doings which appeared in its columns. Now, whenNabucco, in its Anglicised form asNino, was produced here, the former critic wrote: "Our first hearing of theNinohas done nothing to change our judgment of the limited nature of Signor Verdi's resources.... Signor Verdi is 'nothing if not noisy,' and by perpetually putting his energies in one and the same direction, tempts us, out of contradiction, to long for the sweetest piece of sickliness which Paisiello put forth.... He has hitherto shown no power as a melodist. Neither inErnaninor inI Lombardi, nor in the work introduced on Tuesday (Nino) is there a single air of which the ear will not lose hold.... The composer's music becomes almost intolerable owing to his immoderate employment of brass instruments, which, to be in any respect sufferable, calls for great compensating force and richness in the stringed quartette.... How long Signor Verdi's reputation will last seems to us very questionable."[7]Of these remarks we would say that Verdi and his reputation both live to-day!
It need hardly be pointed out that thecritical faculty in its perspicacity and highest degree are wholly wanting in this criticism. Verdi has shown himself to be a born melodist; his reputation for his melodies has been great and world-wide, even those of such early operas asErnaniandI Lombardiare still with us—to wit, that lovely excerpt "Come poteva un angelo" from the latter work; while the orchestral excessiveness charged to him, thus early, was just the thing for which thirty years later, whenAïdawas produced, he was by many musical minds declared to be indebted to Wagner, and abused consequently.
The Timescriticism onNinowas less despairing. "The melodies" (we were told) "are not remarkable, but the rich instrumentation, and the effective massing of the voices do not fail to produce their impression, and a 'run' for some time may be confidently predicted."[8]
Mr. Lumley revivedNino(Nabucco) towards the close of his memorable and vicissitudinous management. It was during the 1857 season. Mademoiselle Spezia made a decided mark in the part of Abigail, but theobject of interest was Signor Corsi, who made hisdébuton the occasion.
"This celebrated singer," Mr. Lumley informs us, "had acquired so high a reputation in Italy as the legitimate successor to Georgio Ronconi, in the execution of lyrical parts of dramatic power, that the liveliest curiosity was excited by his first appearance."[9]Signor Corsi failed, however, to establish his claim to public favour either as a singer or actor. Curiously enough, this same season witnessed the production of the work under the name ofAnatoby the rival London opera company, under Mr. Gye, at the Lyceum Theatre.
Nowadays we hear little ofNabucco. The world can well afford to go on with one opera the less, even though it be a good one; but fifty years have worked a vast change in operatic values, and, although the revival ofNabuccomight not be called for now, it must not be forgotten that, when it first appeared, it was, as an able critic has put it, "almost the only specimen the operatic stage has of late years furnished of a true ideal of the tragic drama."[10]
Much thatNabuccocontained demonstrated the fully-trained composer, the scientific musician, and the able contrapuntist. The splendid chorus "Gli arredi festivi," sung by all the voices, and taken up by the basses alone; the charming chorus of virgins, "Gran Nume," beginningpianissimoand swelling up to a glorious burst of harmony; and the grand crescendo chorusDeh! l'empri, these manifested indisputable originality and learning. Other notable numbers proved to be the chorus "Lo vedesti," and the "Il maledetto non ha fratelli" movement; while thecanonefor five voices, "Suppressau gi'istanti," thescena, "O mia figlia" (which Fornasari was wont to render so feelingly), and the duet "Oh di qual onta aggravesi," are remarkable examples of characteristic musical composition, sure indications of greater artistic triumphs by their author. Among the many orchestral points ofNabucco, the harp accompaniment in the Virgins' chorus, and the employment of the brass instruments in the great crescendos are particularly novel and effective. Little wonder that such a work struck the keynote to Verdi's future greatness.
[4]Dr. Villiers Stanford inThe Daily Graphic, 14th January 1893.
[4]Dr. Villiers Stanford inThe Daily Graphic, 14th January 1893.
[5]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 145 (Lumley).
[5]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 145 (Lumley).
[6]Illustrated London News, 14th March 1846.
[6]Illustrated London News, 14th March 1846.
[7]Athenæum, 7th March 1846.
[7]Athenæum, 7th March 1846.
[8]The Times, 4th March 1846.
[8]The Times, 4th March 1846.
[9]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 416.
[9]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 416.
[10]Musical Recollections of the last Half-Century(1850 Season), May 31.
[10]Musical Recollections of the last Half-Century(1850 Season), May 31.
Verdi's position assured—Selected to compose anopera d'obbligo—The terms—I Lombardi alla Prima Crociata—Itsdramatis personæand argument—Reception at La Scala—A new triumph for Verdi—I Lombardiin London, 1846—Ernani—Political effect ofErnani—Official interference—Verdi first introduced into England—Mr. Lumley's production ofErnaniat Her Majesty's Theatre—The reception of the opera—Criticism onErnani—AthenæumandErnani.
Now, at the age of twenty-nine years, was Verdi's future practically assured. His ambition had been to produce an opera that would win the applause of his countrymen. This was attained sooner, perhaps, than Verdi expected it. With this desire more than fulfilled, the son of the obscure innkeeper of Roncole was being talked of in the same breath as themaestriDonizetti, Mercadante, and Pacini. Would that his beloved wife and children could have been with him to have shared this success!
A great honour was now to be his. By the vote of the La Scala Theatre direction, Verdi was chosen to be the composer of theopera d'obbligofor the Carnival time—that new opera which animpresariois bound, by the terms of his agreement with the municipality, to find and produce during each season. Merelli conveyed the news to Verdi, tendering him a blank agreement form and saying, "Fill it up; all that you require will be carried out."
Verdi consulted Signora Giuseppina Strepponi, the young and attractive tragédienne who had performed so admirably as Abigail inNabucco(she afterwards became Madame Verdi). Her advice to the composer was to "look out for himself," but to be reasonable, suggesting similar terms to those paid to Bellini forNorma. Verdi asked, therefore, eight thousand Austrian liri (£272 sterling), and the bargain was struck.
Within eleven months Verdi was on La Scala boards with his fourth opera, a work which deserves lengthy notice because of the hold it has always had over English audiences. Signor Solera had prepared what, from an Italian point of view, was an excellent libretto,based upon a poem by Grossi, covering the epoch of the First Crusade. Thedramatis personæofI Lombardi alla Prima Crociataran:
Pagano, Arvino, sons of Pholio, the Prince of Rhodes; Viclinda, wife of Arvino; Griselda, daughter of Arvino; Acciano, tyrant of Antioch; Sofia, his wife; Oronte, his son; Prior of the city of Milan; Pirro, armour-bearer to Arvino; monks, priors, people, armour-bearers, Persian ambassadors, Medes, Damascenes, and Chaldeans, warriors, crusaders, ladies of the harem, and pilgrims.
The scene of the first act is laid in Milan; the second in and near Antioch; the third and fourth near Jerusalem.
Briefly, its story or argument is this. Pagano and Arvino are the sons of one of the Lombard conquerors of Rhodes. Pagano, deeply enamoured with Viclinda, and enraged at her preference for his brother, attacked, wounded him, and then fled his country. As the curtain rises, the monks and the people are seen assembled before the Church of Ambrose, in the island of Rhodes, to celebrate the return of the pardoned culprit. He arrives, and his injured brother cordially forgivesand embraces him. But in the heart of the latter the same unquenchable feelings still rankle. He once more meditates the destruction of his brother and the possession of his sister-in-law. At night he invades, with an armed band, his abode; but in the dark he mistakes his victim, and kills his own father instead of his brother. Remorse takes possession of his heart, and he flies to a wilderness in Palestine to expiate his crime, and under the garb of a hermit he acquires a great reputation for sanctity. Years of repentance have elapsed; it is the moment when all Christian knights and princes have been summoned to the First Crusade, and Arvino and his followers have landed in Palestine, obedient to the call of Peter the Hermit. Here he soon hies to the holy recluse (Pagano) in his mountain retreat, seeking from the hermit counsel and consolation in his sorrows, for the Saracen chief of Antioch, in the conflict, has carried away his daughter. Pagano, concealed by his garb, promises a termination to his brother's sorrows which he knows he can effect; for Pirro, formerly his squire and confidant, now a repentant renegade, has promised to yield Antioch, wherehe holds a command, to the Christian bands. In that city Griselda is immured; she is in the harem of Oronte, but protected by his mother, Sofia (secretly a Christian), and passionately loved by her son, who, under the double influence of love and conviction, determines to become a convert to her faith. Griselda forgets her Christian friends, and listens but too fondly to the vows of her Saracen lover; but Antioch is betrayed to the Christians, led by Arvino and Pagano; all the Saracens are put to death; and Griselda, by her lamentations over the fate of her true lover, brings down on her head the wrath of her father. In the retreat where she has taken refuge from his anger, her lover, Oronte, who has escaped from his enemies, reappears in the disguise of a Lombard. The lovers fly together, but being pursued by the Christians, Oronte receives a fatal wound; Pagano comes and takes him to his cell, and there the Saracen prince dies a Christian convert; whilst Griselda in her despair, through divine interposition, is consoled by a vision of Paradise. Pagano, who has become the guardian spirit of his injured brother, accompanies him to the siege of Jerusalem, and is wounded to death in defendinghim. As he dies, he removes his cowl and reveals his name. His death forms the final catastrophe of the opera.
On the 11th February 1843, crowds were flocking to the Milan Theatre to hearI Lombardi—the new opera by the composer who had driven the remembrance of Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini from the heads of the Milanese. Unusual interest was aroused because the authorities, suspecting political suggestions, had sought to stop the representation of the opera. The people even brought their provisions with them, and when the moment for the performance came, a frightful odour of garlic pervaded the theatre! The patriotic subject pleased everybody, and the rendering had not proceeded far before undoubted expressions of approval issued from all parts of the house. The feverish audience detected readily exact analogies to their own political circumstances. Verdi, "saviour of his country," as some would have it, had kept up the sentiment of theNabuccomusic—a sentiment which had an unmistakable revolutionary flavour and ring, soon to be mightily emphasized—and the issue was never in doubt. Soloists, chorus, and orchestra quickly hadtheir feelings echoed by the Milanese public at large.
Another triumph. Moved by the stirring music and the unstinted exertions of the principal singers, Signora Frezzolini and Signori Guasco and Derivis, the auditors were so overcome that they re-demanded number after number. The clamouring for the quintet was such that the police interfered and would not suffer it to be repeated; then the chorus, "O Signore dal tetto natio," in the fourth act brought the listeners once more to their feet; nor would they be appeased until they had heard it three times.
If only for its fortuitous association with the awakening of Lombardo-Venetia to a sense of national unity and independence, this opera must always be interesting. ButI Lombardiabounds in vocal treasures, and contains some of Verdi's best early work. Take, for instance, the lovely tenorcavatina"La mia letizia infondere," and thecabaletta"Come poteva un angelo," which Oronte sings in scene 2 of the second act, and which Signor Gardoni used to render withmuch charm and beauty of voice. Little wonder that such melodies and music predisposed the Italians towards the new young musician.
I Lombardiwas certainly an advance uponNabucco. Apart from its political associations, it contained vocal and instrumental attractions which the public were justified in expecting from the composer ofNabucco. It met with asuccés d'estimeonly on its production in London, but this had more to do with party feeling in operatic matters at the time than with the actual merits of the work. The new and striking properties which distinguishedNabuccowere still more marked inI Lombardi—so much so, indeed, that it has survived many operas and can be listened to with pleasure to-day.
In the 1846 season—Tuesday the 12th March—Mr. Lumley gave the subscribers of Her Majesty's TheatreI Lombardi, with the artists Grisi, Mario, and Fornasari, and scenery and dresses which at the time were considered unsurpassed. It was the first performance of Verdi's new opera in this country.
"Here was again a success!" writes Mr. Lumley; "nay, a great and noisy success—butyet a doubtful one. After the comparative unanimity with whichNabuccohad been received, it seemed necessary for the forces of the opposition to recommence the attack against a school which now threatened to make its way with the town. Party spirit on the subject was again rife. Whilst, by the anti-Verdians,I Lombardiwas declared to be flimsy, trashy, worthless, the Verdi party, and the adherents of the modern Italian school, pronounced it to be full of power, vigour, and originality. The one portion asserted that it was utterly devoid of melody—the other, that it was replete with melody of the most charming kind; the one again insisted that it was the worst work of the aspirant—the other, that it was the young composer'schef d'œuvre. And in the midst of this conflict—so analogous to the old feud between the parties of Gluck and Piccini—public opinion, as usual, seemed undecided and wavering, uttering its old formula of, "Well, I don't know." The music, too, was weighed down by a rambling, ill-constructed, uninteresting libretto; and it is really difficult, under such conditions, to sunder the merit of the musical "setting" from the merit of thetext.I Lombardi, however, was played frequently, and to crowded houses."[11]
I Lombardispeedily travelled over Europe. As we have seen, it soon reached England, and having been adapted for the French stage, it was produced on the 26th November 1847 at the Grand Opéra of Paris under the title ofJérusalem. In its new garb, it was a failure, despite splendid singing and effective scenery. What a farcical proceeding, then, to attempt to foist this version upon the Italians under the name ofJerusalemme!
It is not surprising that Verdi was now sought after byimpresariiand managers, ever on the outlook for talent and a work that may restore the too often distorted fortunes of a theatre. More than one European manager was beseeching him; but eventually the management of the Fenice theatre secured Verdi's next opera. This proved to beErnani, produced on the 9th March 1844. Verdi chose his own subject, and entrusted Victor Hugo's drama to Piave, who subsequently became the composer's permanent librettist. The result was a tolerably good book, which Verdi set in happy vein. Its first night decided itsfate.Ernaniwas received with unstinted admiration and approval. The artists who created the parts were Signora Loewe (Elvira), who quarrelled with Verdi about her part; Signor Guasco (Ernani); and Signor Selva (Silva), the latter a singer whom the noble who owned the Fenice thought unworthy to appear on his boards, despite Verdi's recommendation, because he had been singing at a second-rate theatre!
During the nine months following the first performance ofErnani, it was produced on no less than fifteen different stages.
One or two episodes—amusing, if vexatious—attended its production. The police got wind of some exciting element in the opera, and stepped in at the last minute, objecting to several numbers, and refusing to allow a sham conspiracy to be enacted on the stage. Verdi had to give way and face the additional work and trouble; yet, after all, the Venetians got political capital out of the work, and when the spirited chorus, "Si ridesti il Leon di Castiglia," burst forth, their patriotic feelings overcame them. Another incident had to do with artistic principle. In the last act Silva had to blow upon the horn; but a susceptible aristocratcould not bear the idea, and remonstrated with the composer, urging that it would desecrate the theatre!
Ernani, as we have remarked, was the work by which Verdi was first introduced to the British public; and it is, therefore, of especial interest to English readers. It involved a dispute among musical people such as has only been equalled by the famous Gluck and Piccini feud (1776) just referred to, or that great controversy engendered by Wagner's music and doctrines, the wrangle that gave us the term "music of the future," that spiteful innuendo which the enemies of the master invented to indicate the fit location of his music, and which epithet Wagner himself adopted as exactly describing an art and teachings which a debilitated and distempered age was too feeble to understand.
No one was more concerned in this musical stir than the zealous and assiduous Mr. Lumley, who had his heart and fortune in the affairs of the opera-house, Her Majesty's Theatre:—
Industrious importer! who dost bringLegs that can dance, and voices that can sing,From ev'rywhere you possibly can catch 'em;Let others try, they never yet could match 'em.
Industrious importer! who dost bringLegs that can dance, and voices that can sing,From ev'rywhere you possibly can catch 'em;Let others try, they never yet could match 'em.
The stumbling-blocks were the bigoted lovers of the old school, who, dissatisfied with all that had been given them, were, like that hero in fiction, always clamouring for "more," which, when obtained, they always pronounced unsatisfactory. "The season," states Mr. Lumley, "was announced to open with theErnaniof Verdi, a composer as yet unknown to the mass of the musical English public. But he had been crowned triumphantly, and had achieved the most signal successes in Italy.Ernaniwas generally pronounced, at that period, one of the best, if not the best, of his many applauded operas. It would have been strange if the announcement of the first production of one of Verdi's works upon the Anglo-Italian stage had failed to excite the attention and interest of the musical world. At all events, it was the duty, as well as the policy, of the management to bring forward the greatest novelty of the day. Novelty sure to be called for with indignant remonstrance ifnotlaid before the subscribers, however it might be scouted (according to custom) when it did make its appearance.
"After some unavoidable delay, the seasonopened on the 8th March (1845) with the promised opera ofErnani. That it excited the general enthusiasm awarded to it so lavishly in Italy cannot be asserted; that it was a failure may be emphatically denied. The general result of this first introduction of Verdi to the English public was a feeling of hesitation and doubt; or, as some one drolly said at the time, the 'Well, I don't know's' had it! The English are tardy in the appreciation of any kind of novelty, and the reception of Verdi's opera was only in accordance with the national habit. It is well known that a taste for this composer's music has survived all the opposition of an earlier period, and that he is now generally popular among the musical amateurs in this country. Whatever their intrinsic merits, his operas have achieved a widely-spread success, as provincial theatres and music-halls can testify throughout the land; and there can be no doubt that, whatever his alleged shortcomings in some respects, he has at command passion, fire, and strong dramatic effect.
"On the first production, then, ofErnani, the public seemed as yet unprepared to give a verdict of its own as to the merits ofthe young composer, now first placed in England on his trial."[12]
The principal singers at this first representation in England were—Madame Rita Borio,prima donna; Moriani, the tenor; Signor Botelli, baritone; and Fornasari, as the old Castillian noble. The audience, if not the critics, were delighted with the work. The characters so musically individualised, the new and attractive orchestration, themotividistinguishing the singer, the perfectensemble, the well-proportioned whole opera—all these thoroughly Verdinian characteristics were seized upon and admired. "Encore followed encore from the rising of the curtain.... Solos, duets, and trios were applauded with equal fervour, but the concerted pieces created the most surprise and admiration.... Theensemblespossess a novelty and an impassioned fervour unprecedented."[13]
In a retrospect of the season's opera, a talented critic wrote ofErnanias follows:—"We were then introduced to a composer engaging in Italy surprising popularity, one whose works have been brought out at almostall the great continental theatres, whose productions in his native country met with the most enthusiastic admiration—Verdi. It cannot, therefore, be wondered at that the present able management of Her Majesty's Theatre should have fixed upon the works of this composer to bring before the English public.Ernanidid full justice to its brilliant reputation. It presents the real type of the lyrical tragedy, where feeling finds its appropriate expression in music. Musical judges allotted to it the palm of sterling merit, but the leaning of public taste was against the probabilities of its obtaining here the high favour it has elsewhere enjoyed.
"The meritricious sentimental style of the modern school to which, of late years, we have become so accustomed was a bad preparation for the full appreciation of such work as this.Ernani, however, at first only half understood, gradually worked its way into the public favour, and was given a greater number of times than any opera of the season; finally, it might be pronounced completely successful; but yet, on the whole, the result of the production of this opera was not such as toencourage the management to substitute another work of this composer,I Lombardi, for more established favourites. We are sorry for this; we grieve to see in the English musical public so little encouragement for novelty in art, and an unwillingness to patronise works which have not received the sometimes questionable fiat of approbation from the audiences of former seasons, not a whit more infallible than the present. English audiences will rarely judge for themselves in matters of art. They wail that Fashion should have openly set her seal on works which should claim a fair and unbiassed judgment.
"At present Verdi is the only composer of real and sterling merit in that land of song (Italy); for though Rossini still lives, his pen is idle, or only occasionally employed on short compositions of a totally different nature from those with which he has for years delighted the world.... Donizetti, his successor, is silent. ShouldErnanior any other work of this young composer be brought forward next year (1846), its success will probably be far more decided; for attention has become awakened on this point, and a purer musicaltaste is gradually forming in England, as elsewhere."[14]
Ernaniwas brought forward in the following year, when one among the few critics not antagonistic towards Verdi wrote as follows:—
"It was with much pleasure that we heardErnaniagain. This opera is of that stamp which constantly gains upon the mind. The twofinalesof the first and second acts arechef d'Å“uvresof composition. When the ear has become sufficiently accustomed to their sounds to follow the varied melodies introduced to them with such wonderful skill, the effect is indescribable. The sensations called forth by such music as this, when listened to with unswerving attention, are far more profound, though of a different nature, than those elicited by the hearing of the most pleasing melody. Combinations of the human voice and of instruments must always, if skilfully managed, produce a powerful effect, and this is especially the case with these twofinales, in which every bar has a meaning, and in which consequently, at each hearing, some fresh beauty is revealed.... The duet between Ernani and Elvira,the trio at the end of the opera, and the aria 'Ernani involami' are also deserving of much admiration."[15]
Ernaniwas conceived in much the same vein asNabuccoandI Lombardi. It was on the continental Italian opera lines, as seen in the operas of his countrymen before him. The personality of Verdi was somewhat more emphatic, but the national model had not been left either in form or in expression. "Full of plagiarisms as was every number of that opera," records one of the divided, distracted critics, "it took more or less with the public because of the large amount of tune with which it abounded, whilst the constant succession of passage after passage in unison excited some degree of curiosity on account of its novelty."[16]
UndoubtedlyErnaniwas an advance uponNabuccoandI Lombardi. In 1848 this opera came again under the notice of the censor of theAthenæum, but it did not tend to alter his views respecting Verdi musically.
"It is not many years," we read, "sinceSignor Verdi was in this country, among the myriad strangers who are attracted by the 'season,' struggle vainly for a hearing, and retire unnoticed.... For new melody we have searched in vain; nor have we even found any varieties of form, indicating an original fancy at work as characteristically as in one of Pacini's or Mercadante's or Donizetti's better cavatinas. All seems worn and hackneyed and unmeaning.... 'Ernani! Ernani! involami,' is a song of executive pretension, written apparently for one of those mezzo-soprano voices of extensive compass which poor Malibran brought into fashion. There is a good deal of what may be called pompous assurance, both in theandantino, and in the final movement, and an accomplished singer could doubtless work an encore with it. Signor Verdi's concerted music strikes us as a shade worthier and more individual than his songs.... We cannot conclude these brief remarks, incomplete for obvious reasons, as a judgment, without saying that flimsy as we fancy Signor Verdi's science, and devoid as he seems to be of that fresh and sweet melody, which we shall never cease to relish and welcome, there is a certain aspiration in hisworks which deserves recognition, and may lead him to produce compositions which will command success."[17]
This could hardly be styled encouraging criticism on a work which had, and has since been received with the greatest success throughout Italy, in Paris, and in London, and which has enjoyed a legitimate and fairly enduring popularity, remembering always how changeable a thing opera at its best is. Adolphe Adam, writing ofErnaniin Paris, has said, "Of all the operas of Verdi represented in Paris,Ernaniis the one which has obtained the most success. I cannot say why, for I am quite as fond of the others, and I do not think this success is to be attributed especially to the excellent execution it has received."[18]The obvious and only conclusion being that the music itself was the true operating force.
[11]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 148.
[11]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 148.
[12]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 102.
[12]Reminiscences of the Opera, p. 102.
[13]Illustrated London News, 15th March 1845.
[13]Illustrated London News, 15th March 1845.
[14]Illustrated London News, 23rd August 1845.
[14]Illustrated London News, 23rd August 1845.
[15]Illustrated London News, 21st March 1846.
[15]Illustrated London News, 21st March 1846.
[16]Musical Recollections of the Last Half-Century, vol. ii. p. 162.
[16]Musical Recollections of the Last Half-Century, vol. ii. p. 162.
[17]Athenæum, 26th February 1848.
[17]Athenæum, 26th February 1848.
[18]The Life and Works of Verdi(Pougin—Matthew), p. 169.
[18]The Life and Works of Verdi(Pougin—Matthew), p. 169.
I Due Foscari—Its argument—Failure of the opera in Rome, Paris, and London—Giovanna d'Arco'—A moderate success—Alzira—Attila—More political enthusiasm—Attilagiven at Her Majesty's Theatre by Mr. Lumley—Its cool reception—The TimesandAthenæumcritics onAttila—Exceptional activity of Verdi—Macbeth—Jérusalemin Paris—I Masnadierifirst given at Her Majesty's Theatre—Jenny Lind in itscaste—Plot of the opera—The work a failure everywhere—The critics onI Masnadieri—Mr. Lumley offers Verdi the conductorship at Her Majesty's Theatre—Il Corsaro—La Battaglia di Legnano—Luisa Miller—Mr. Chorley onLuisa Miller—Its libretto—Reception of the work in Naples, London, and Paris.
I Due Foscariwas Verdi's next opera. HiscollaborateurPiave had a libretto well seasoned with that sensational element characteristic of the Italian dramatic lyric stage. Here is its story:—
In 1423 Francisco Foscari was raised to the ducal chair of Venice, notwithstanding the opposition of Peter Lorredano. The latter constantly opposed him in the Council,and that in such a manner, that on one occasion Foscari, irritated, exclaimed, "He could not believe he was really Doge so long as Peter Lorredano lived." By a fatal coincidence, a few months afterwards, Peter and his brother Mark died suddenly, and public report said they had been poisoned. James Lorredano, Peter's brother, believed the tale, and sculptured the names of the Foscari on their tomb, and inserted them in his ledger as his debtors for two lives—waiting with the greatestsang-froidfor the moment when he should be enabled to make them pay. The Doge had four sons; three died, and Jacopo the fourth, husband to Lucretia Contarini, being accused of receiving presents from foreign princes, was imprisoned according to the laws of Venice, first at Naples in Romania, and afterwards at Treviso. It happened in the meantime that Ermolaus Donato, chief of the Council of Ten, who had condemned Jacopo, was assassinated on the night of the 5th November 1450, on his return to his palace, from a sitting of the Council. As Olivia, Jacopo's servant, had been seen at Venice a few days previously, and on the very day after the crime had been committedhe had publicly mentioned it at the Mestra boat, suspicion fell on the Foscari. The master of the boat and Jacopo's servant were immediately carried to Venice, where they were put to the torture, but in vain; they were then banished for life to Candia. For five years in succession had Jacopo sought for his pardon without obtaining it, and, unable longer to live without revisiting his beloved country, he wrote to the Duke of Milan, Francisco Sforza, begging of him to intercede with the Council on his behalf. The letter fell into the hands of the Ten; and Jacopo, being taken to Venice and tortured, confessed that he had written it with the sole desire of revisiting his country, at the risk of being sent back to prison. He was condemned to remain for life in Candia, to be closely confined for the first year, and threatened with death if he wrote any more letters of the same description. The unfortunate octogenarian Doge, who had conducted himself with Roman fortitude at the judgment and torturing of his son, was allowed to see him in private before his departure, to advise him to be obedient and resigned to the will of the Republic. In the meantime Nicolo Errizo, a Venetian nobleman,died, and on his death-bed acknowledged himself the murderer of Donato. He wished his confession to be published to exculpate Jacopo Foscari. Several of the principal senators had previously felt disposed to plead for his pardon, but unhappily, while this was taking place, he breathed his last in his Candian prison.
The miserable father lived in solitude with a heart full of sorrow; he was seldom seen at the Council. Jacopo Lorredano, in the year 1457, was raised to the dignity of Decemvir, and believing that his hour of vengeance had arrived, carried on his plots so secretly that the Doge was forced at last to abdicate his ducal chair. Twice in the course of the time he held the office Foscari had wished to resign it, but so disinclined were they to yield to his wishes that they obliged him to swear that he would die in the exercise of his power.
Notwithstanding this, he was compelled to leave the ducal palace, and returned, as a simple individual, to his private residence, refusing a large pension offered to him from the public purse.
The 31st October 1457, while listening to the sound of the bells announcing the electionof his successor, Pascal Malpiero, he was so violently affected that he expired. He was buried with as great splendour as if he had died a Doge, while Malpiero was attired merely in the simple dress of a senator. It is said that Jacopo Lorredano, when this took place, wrote in his ledger opposite the words we have already mentioned the following sentence—"The Foscari have paid me!"
Out of this argument was evolved a serious opera in four acts, which was produced at the Argentine Theatre at Rome on the 3rd November 1844. It proved a complete failure. Though composed immediately afterErnani, it possessed little of the spontaneity and freshness of that work; so little that the Romans were astounded, and stayed away from the theatre.
In 1846 the work was given in Paris, when Signori Mario and Coletti, with Madame Grisi, sought to establish the opera; but the work would never "go."
The year following Mr. Lumley introduced it at Her Majesty's Theatre for the opening night of the season. "The opera given for the first time in this country, theDue Foscariof Verdi, and the singer, MadameMontenegro, a Spanish lady of good family, with a clear soprano voice of some compass, and an attractive person, pleased, without exciting any marked sensation. Coletti, in the character of theDoge, one of his most famous parts, was, by general accord, pronounced to be an admirable, not to say a great, artist; while Fraschini, by his energy and power, contributed to the effect of theensemble."[19]
Yet again was the work a failure. The English operatic public, however, did not want a new opera just then. What it sorely needed was Jenny Lind!
Giovanna d'Arco, produced at La Scala Theatre, Milan, on the 15th February 1845, and in which Erminia Frezzolini appeared, "in all the brilliancy of her radiant youth, of her patrician beauty, of her incomparable voice, and of her marvellous talent,"[20]followedI Due Foscari. It was a temporary success, owing to the admirable exertions of the Tuscan cantatrice, whose personal and musical charms considerably aided the exaltedpart of the heroine. She inspired not a little fervour, something akin probably to that remarkable enthusiasm prompted by the woman-soldier of France, whose imperishable doings saved the throne of Charles VII.
The opera contained several fine numbers, but although the Milanese received it kindly, nay, went out of their way tofêteits composer, it never really "took." Some of Verdi's best writing is to be found inJoan of Arc, yet it was not born under a lucky star. Its overture was rescued, and this Verdi (Handel-like) affixed to his operasLes Vêpres SiciliennesandAroldo.
Alzira, produced with indifferent success at the San Carlo Theatre at Naples on the 12th August 1845, succeededGiovanna d'Arco, and then cameAttila. This was Verdi's most successful work sinceErnani. The management of the Fenice had bargained with Verdi for another opera, andAttilawas the result.
The scene of the opera is placed principally at Aquileja, a Roman colony on the Adriatic, which from its grandeur was honoured by the ancients by the appellation of "Roma Secunda." Attila, having overcome and desolated this great city, amidst his rejoicings is surprised bya band of Aquilejan virgins led by Odabella, daughter of the Lord of Aquileja, who has been killed in the battle. She defies Attila, who, struck by her beauty, asks what boon he can bestow upon her. She claims his sword, intending to avenge her father's death—to behave, in fact, as Judith did to Holofernes. But she falters, and returns to the barbarian camp, the object of Attila's admiration. Her lover, Foresto, and Ezio, the leader of the defeated Romans, reappear, and plan the poisoning of Attila, for which purpose the services of Odabella are sought. She, however, has consented to share Attila's throne, but hardly are the nuptial rites celebrated than she is upbraided by Foresto and Ezio. Then a revulsion of feeling overcomes her; she thinks of her father, her lover, and her country, and in a fit of despairing anger she stabs Attila to the heart.
Poet Solera supplied the libretto, and when, on 17th March 1846, an expectant audience thronged every part of the theatre, it was to listen to the unfolding of an excellent work. The warmth of its reception surpassed that accorded toNabucco, and again was political fire aroused within the Venetians.
The opera soon went the round of the Italian stages, and two years later (1848)Attilawas brought to London. Mr. Lumley at Her Majesty's Theatre was straining every nerve to provide attractions that would interest his critical (also let it be added, hypercritical) subscribers, and counteract the opposition from the rival "Royal Italian Opera" enterprise at Covent Garden Theatre. For his ante-Easter season he paradedAttila—"the opera" as he says, "in which I had first heard and been charmed with the rich voice and dramatic qualities of Sophie Cruvelli at Padua. This was, in fact, the opera in which she first appeared upon any stage. None, perhaps, of Verdi's works had kindled more enthusiasm in Italy or crowned the fortunate composer with more abundant laurels than hisAttila. Its fame was great in the native land of the composer. In catering for novelty, therefore, the director of Her Majesty's Theatre must be held to have done well in producing a work of so great repute, and in placing before his subscribers the leading opera of the day upon the Italian stage. To prove with what good will this was done, the opera had been 'mounted' with great scenicsplendour, and with every 'appliance' likely to produce effect.Attilawas produced on Tuesday the 14th March. Cruvelli sang 'con fuoco.' Her fine, fresh, ringing voice 'told.' Beletti displayed unusual histrionic talent, besides all that steadiness and excellence of 'school' which helped to earn him his reputation in this country. Gardoni was in the cast, whilst Cuzzani accepted a second tenor part. On every side were zeal, talent, and good-will employed successfully to execute a work which many cities of Italy had pronounced to be Verdi's masterpiece. But although Verdi had already commenced to make his way to English favour, and this by means of that vigour and dramatic fire which unquestionably belonged to him, the public displayed an unwonted unanimity of sulkiness upon the production ofAttila. They would have 'none of it.' ConsequentlyAttilaproved a failure. Music and libretto displeased alike."[21]
"This is one of Verdi's more recent operas," wrote a critic, "and met in Italy with the success which works of his (almost the only composer of eminence left to that landof music) are sure to command. The work itself possesses the beauties and defects peculiar to Verdi—a certain grandeur of conception and power of dramatic effect is even more striking here than in many other of themaestro'scompositions. There is a warmth, spirit, and energy in the music which carries away the listener, which excites and inspires; at the same time there is a want of softness and repose which is, in this opera, more than usually perceptible. The too frequent use of the drums and the brass instruments is the great fault we have to find in this work."[22]
TheAttilamusic was as horrible to the senses of the Athenæum critic as was that ofNino. "As for the music," we are informed, "were we to carry out and apply Charles Lamb's principle of being 'modest for a modest man,' the fit review thereof would be a charivari. The force of noise can hardly further go; unless we are to resort to the device of Sarti's cannon, fired to time his Russian 'Te Deum' on the taking of Ocsakow, or imitate the anvil chorus which Spontini, we have heard, introduced in one of his operas. It is something to have touched the limits ofthe outrageous style; but this, we think, we have now done, unless the more recentAlziraandMacbethof the composer contain double parts for the ophicleides or like extra seasonings.... The melodies are old and unlovely to a degree which is almost impertinent, andI Masnadieriitself was not more devoid of the discourse which enchants the ear than this Gothic opera. May we never hear its like again."[23]
Again we findThe Timesless "sweeping" respectingAttila, albeit not detecting promise of that grand future which was before Verdi, and which his great genius, his own unaided efforts—amid such remorseless critical opposition—have enabled him to attain.
"Less excelling in melody than any Italian composer of name," we read of Verdi, "he has always chosen to rely rather on the effect of the ensemble than on the isolated displays of the principal singers. His love of ensemble is, however, not attended by any great contrapuntal knowledge. The effects that he produces rather arise from an increase of the mass of sound than from skilful harmonious combination.... That the arias, duets, etc.,should be commonplaces, mere repetitions of Donizetti and Bellini and Verdi himself, was naturally to be anticipated, as he is rarely strong in suchmorceaux. But there is a want of dramatic colouring, even in his ensemble; and for the most part we discern little apprehension of character, and little regard to the peculiarities of situation."[24]
In the light of subsequent events such criticism is not perspicuous. If Verdi had no "contrapuntal knowledge" and "lacked dramatic colouring" power at the age of thirty-two, after learning his art, when and where did he acquire all that tremendous wealth in these departments as seen inAïda,Otello, andFalstaff, and even in earlier operas? Is it not probable that Verdi knew more about the matter than the critics, and understood better than they what the public wanted, what it could swallow, and composed accordingly? Was the musical taste in this country such, for instance, fifty years ago, that opera-frequenters would have relished evenOtello? Verdi was probably right in giving a sick patient a pill, not a horse-ball.
In 1847 a spell of unusual industryovertook Verdi. Opera after opera came with remarkable rapidity.Macbethwas produced at Florence in March 1847, and immediately proved a success. It was Verdi's first effort with a Shakesperian subject. The Florentines were unanimous in their approval of the music, the interpretation of which was considerably aided by an admirable Lady Macbeth—Signora Barbieri-Nini. The score was taken to Milan, and pleased so much that the Milanese, among other doings, represented Verdi practically as having crushed all other Italian composers; while poor Rossini in particular was, dragon-like, under the foot of his great rival! Subsequently, the work was given in Venice, where it met with a reception which Verdi himself could scarcely have expected. It was just before the Revolution of 1848, and when Palma, as Macduff, sang the air:—