Verdi is the most nervous, theatric, sensuous composer of the present
century. Measured by the highest standard, his style must be
criticised as often spasmodic, tawdry, and meretricious. He
instinctively adopts a bold and eccentric treatment of musical themes;
and, though there are always to be found stirring movements in his
scores as well as in his opera stories, he constantly offends refined
taste by sensation and violence.
With a redundancy of melody, too often of the cheap and shallow kind,
he rarely fails to please the masses of opera-goers, for his works
enjoy a popularity not shared at present by any other composer. In
Verdi a sudden blaze of song, brief spirited airs, duets, trios, etc.,
take the place of the elaborate and beautiful music, chiselled into
order and symmetry, which characterises most of the great composers of
the past. Energy of immediate impression is thus gained at the expense
of that deep, lingering power, full of the subtile side-lights and
shadows of suggestion, which is the crowning benison of great music.
He stuns the ear and captivates the senses, but does not subdue the
soul.
Yet, despite the grievous faults of these operas, they blaze with
gems, and we catch here and there true swallow-flights of genius, that
the noblest would not disown. With all his puerilities there is a
mixture of grandeur. There are passages in "Ernani," "Rigoletto,"
"Traviata," "Trovatore," and "Aida," so strong and dignified, that it
provokes a wonder that one with such capacity for greatness should
often descend into such bathos.
To better illustrate the false art which mars so much of Verdi's
dramatic method, a comparison between his "Rigoletto," so often
claimed as his best work, and Rossini's "Otello" will be opportune.
The air sung by Gilda in the "Rigoletto," when she retires to sleep on
the eve of the outrage, is an empty, sentimental yawn; and in the
quartet of the last act, a noble dramatic opportunity, she ejects a
chain of disconnected, unmusical sobs, as offensive as Violetta's
consumptive cough. Desdemona's agitated air, on the other hand, under
Rossini's treatment, though broken short in the vocal phrase, is
magnificently sustained by the orchestra, and a genuine passion is
made consistently musical; and then the wonderful burst of bravura,
where despair and resolution run riot without violating the bounds of
strict beauty in music--these are master-strokes of genius restrained
by art.
In Verdi, passion too often misses intensity and becomes hysterical.
He lacks the elements of tenderness and humour, but is frequently
picturesque and charming by his warmth and boldness of colour. His
attempts to express the gay and mirthful, as for instance in the
masquerade music of "Traviata" and the dance music of "Rigoletto," are
dreary, ghastly, and saddening; while his ideas of tenderness are apt
to take the form of mere sentimentality. Yet generalities fail in
describing him, for occasionally he attains effects strong in their
pathos, and artistically admirable; as, for example, the slow air for
the heroine, and the dreamy song for the gipsy mother in the last act
of "Trovatore." An artist who thus contradicts himself is a perplexing
problem, but we must judge him by the habitual, not the occasional.
Verdi is always thoroughly in earnest, never frivolous. He walks on
stilts indeed, instead of treading the ground or cleaving the air, but
is never timid or tame in aim or execution. If he cannot stir the
emotions of the soul he subdues and absorbs the attention against even
the dictates of the better taste; while genuine beauties gleaming
through picturesque rubbish often repay the true musician for what he
has undergone.
So far this composer has been essentially representative of
melodramatic music, with all the faults and virtues of such a style.
In "Aida," his last work, the world remarked a striking change. The
noble orchestration, the power and beauty of the choruses, the
sustained dignity of treatment, the seriousness and pathos of the
whole work, reveal how deeply new purposes and methods have been
fermenting in the composer's development. Yet in the very prime of his
powers, though no longer young, his next work ought to settle the
value of the hopes raised by the last.
* * * * *
Note by the Editor.--In 1874 Verdi composed his "Requiem Mass." It is
written in a popular style, and received unanimous praise from the
Italian critics, and as thorough condemnation from those of Germany,
in particular from Herr Hans von Bülow, the celebrated pianist. It was
chance which induced the composer to attempt sacred music. On the
death of Rossini, Verdi suggested that a "Requiem" should be written
in memory of the dead master, by thirteen Italian composers in
combination, and that the mass should be performed on every hundredth
anniversary of the death in the cathedral of Bologna. The attempt
naturally proved a complete failure, owing to the impossibility of
unity in the method of such a composition. On the death, however, of
Alessandro Manzoni at Milan, Verdi wrote for the anniversary of the
great man's death a Requiem, into which he incorporated the movement
_Libera me_ which he had previously written for the Rossini Requiem.
In 1881 "Simon Boccanegra" was performed at Milan, with very partial
success. It was a revival of an opera Verdi had written ten years
previously, but which had failed owing to a confused libretto and a
bad interpretation. It, however, in its present form, falls short in
merit when compared with the composer's finest operas--"Rigoletto,"
"Il Trovatore," and "Aida."
Verdi's last work, "Otello," has been brought out since this volume
went to press; its brilliant success at the theatre of La Scala,
Milan, on the 5th of February, is a matter of such recent date that it
is unnecessary to enlarge upon it at present. Verdi has accepted an
invitation from the managers of the Grand Opera at Paris to produce
"Otello" at their theatre in the course of the year; the libretto will
be translated by M. du Loche, and a ballet will be introduced in the
second act, according to the traditions of the French opera. In all
probability it will also be performed in London, but as yet no public
intimation on the subject has been made.
It is of course impossible at present for any definite decision to be
pronounced on the merits of this latest work compared with the
composer's other operas; the few following facts, however, concerning
"Otello," excerpted from the reports of the musical critics of our
leading journals, may prove of interest.
Verdi was first induced to undertake the composition of "Otello" on
the occasion of the performance of his "Messa da Requiem," at the
Scala, for the benefit of the sufferers by the inundations at Ferrara.
The next day he gave a dinner to the four principal solo singers, at
which were present several friends, among them Signor Faccio and
Signor Ricordi. The latter laid siege to the _maestro_, trying to
persuade him to undertake a new work. For a long time Verdi resisted,
and his wife declared that probably only a Shakespearian subject could
induce him to take up his pen again. A few hours later Faccio and
Ricordi went to Boïto, who at once agreed to make the third in the
generous conspiracy, and two days after sent to Verdi a complete
sketch of the plan for the opera, following strictly the Shakespearian
tragedy. Verdi approved of the sketch, and from that moment it fell to
the part of Giulia Ricordi to urge on the composer and the poet by
constant reminders. Every Christmas he sent to Verdi's house an
"Othello" formed of chocolate, which, at first very small, grew larger
as the opera progressed.
Rossini's famous opera on the same subject, in which Pasta and
Malibran won renown in their day, was produced in Naples in the autumn
of 1816. How it impressed Lord Byron, who saw it in Venice soon
afterwards, we learn from an amusing postscript to his letter to
Samuel Rogers, wherein he says:--"They have been crucifying 'Othello'
into an opera; the music good but lugubrious; but as for the
words--all the real scenes with Iago cut out and the greatest nonsense
instead. The handkerchief turned into a billet-doux, and the first
singer would not black his face, for some exquisite reason assigned in
the preface." In this curiously maimed and mangled version, Roderigo
became of far more importance than the Moor's crafty lieutenant. Odder
still was the modified French version played in 1823, when the leading
tenor, David, thinking the final duet with Desdemona unsuited to his
voice, substituted the soft and pretty duet, "Amor, possente nume,"
from Rossini's later opera "Armida." A contemporary French critic, who
witnessed this curious performance, observes--"As it was impossible to
kill Desdemona to such a tune, the Moor, after giving way to the most
violent jealousy, sheathed his dagger, and began the duet in the most
tender and graceful manner; after which he took Desdemona politely by
the hand and retired, amidst the applause and bravos of the public,
who seemed to think it quite natural that the piece should finish in
this fashion."
Verdi, with that healthy horror of tiring the public which has always
distinguished him, declined Signor Boïto's proposal to treat the
subject in five acts; and, Shakespeare's introductory act being
discarded, the first act of the opera corresponds with the second act
of the tragedy. After that the musical drama marches scene by scene,
and situation by situation, on parallel lines with the play, with this
important exception only--namely, that the "Willow Song," as in
Rossini's opera, is transferred from the last act but one to the last
act. There are no symphonic pieces in "Otello," unless the brief
orchestral presentation of the "Willow Song" before the fourth act can
be so considered. The work is a drama set to music, in which there are
no repetitions, no detached or detachable airs written specially for
the singers, no passages of display, nothing whatever in the way of
music but what is absolutely necessary for the elucidation of the
piece. The influence of Wagner is perceptible here and there, but
there are no leading motives, and the general style is that of Verdi
at his best, as in "Aida."
"It is well for the Italians that, in hailing Verdi as a
great man of genius, they are not honouring one who moves
the profane world to compassion, scarcely distinguished from
contempt, by weakness of character. His work is so good
throughout, so full of method, so complete, because his
nature is complete and his life methodical; for the same
reason, no doubt, he has preserved to a ripe old age all the
essential qualities of the genius of his manhood. The leaves
that remain on the Autumnal trees are yet green, and the
birds still sing among them. 'Otello' itself will, in some
form or other, soon be heard in London; and it is pleasant
to think that the subject is taken from one of the greatest
works of the greatest of all literary Englishmen. The theme
is noble, and so, apparently, is the treatment. Nor should
we forget that so distinguished a composer as Signor Boïto
has not disdained, nay, has elected, to compose the libretto
for the old _maestro_. That is a form and sample of
co-operation we can all admire. Will Italy One and Free
continue to produce great and original musicians? Verdi is
the product of other and more melancholy times. Be that as
it may, better national freedom, civil activity, and
personal dignity, than all the operas that were ever
written."
_CHERUBINI AND HIS PREDECESSORS._