_REQUIEM_ MASS AND OTHER COMPOSITIONS
Verdi as a sacred music composer--Share in the "Rossini" Mass--Failure
of a patchwork effort--_Missa da Requiem_ produced--Splendid
reception--Performed at the Royal Albert Hall--Structure of the
work--Von Bülow's opinion--Divided opinions on its style and
merit--Its character--Modern Italian Church style--Northern
_versus_ Southern Church music--Verdi's early compositions--E minor
Quartet for Strings--_L'Inno delle Nazioni_--Its performance at
Her Majesty's Theatre--Verdi's slender share in orchestral
music--National temperament involved--Thematic method inconsistent
with Italian national life.
Verdi must not be overlooked as a writer of sacred music. Hundreds
of composers have contributed more freely than he has to the store
of ecclesiastical music, and although strict Church musicians might
contend that, from many points of view, any consideration of Verdi as
a sacred composer would be unnecessary, yet, withal, there is ample
reason for considering and comparing the religious, as distinct from
the secular, musician in Verdi.
Like his great compatriot Rossini, who, towards the close of his
career, composed a _Stabat Mater_ that has provoked, perhaps, more
criticism than any other piece of Church music, Verdi has signalled his
later years with a sacred composition which has also been the subject
of much discussion.
In order to do honour to Rossini, whose death was being deplored, some
of Italy's sons conceived the notion of a grand Mass to be performed
once every hundred years, on the centenary of Rossini's death, and
nowhere else save at the Cathedral of Bologna. There was, at least,
the charm of novelty in such an idea, and considering the period of
time that was to elapse between the performances, the prospect of the
music ever becoming hackneyed was certainly remote. But the greatest
difficulty, the serious patchwork venture of such a mixed composition,
does not appear to have entered the heads of the promoters. Thirteen
numbers for a Mass were given out to the leading Italian composers,
who entered into the spirit of the plan with an unanimity worthy of a
better cause, and such numbers were duly completed; but when it came
to the tacking together of these pieces, the result was a thorough
Joseph's coat, as vari-coloured as that famous garment, and so
unsatisfactory that the committee decided that it would never do, even
for a once-a-century performance.
Then came the question of a way out of the difficulty. Who should be
entrusted with the commission for a complete work? Now the thirteenth
number--a lucky quantity on this occasion--was the _Libera me_ in C
minor, by Verdi, which so attracted the attention of Signor Mazzucato
of Milan, that he begged Verdi to take upon himself the responsibility
of composing a complete _Requiem_ Mass. This suggestion seems to have
clung to him, for, as all the world knows, he eventually gave us that
_magnum opus_ with which most amateurs in this country are already
familiar. Strangely enough, Rossini's name dropped out of association
with the new mass, which, when it was produced, was to honour the
memory of Manzoni, Italian poet-patriot, who, full of years, joined the
ever-increasing majority on 22nd May 1873.
The first performance of this _Missa da Requiem_ took place in the
church of San Marco at Milan on the 22nd May 1874, to mark the
anniversary of the death of Manzoni, the composer's old friend,
whom--to quote Verdi's own words--"I regarded so much as a writer, and
venerated as a man--one who was a model of virtue and patriotism."
Musicians and _dilettanti_ from all parts of the world attended
this notable performance, which Verdi conducted in person. There
was an orchestra of one hundred executants, and a chorus of some
hundred and twenty singers, while the _soli_ parts were entrusted to
Mesdames Stolz and Waldmann, with Signori Capponi and Maini; and since
these musicians were leading performers, gathered from all parts of
Italy, the effect of such a combined artist-effort was striking and
enthusiastic indeed. The fine mass was splendidly performed, and as
number after number was unfolded before the rapt congregation, its
impressiveness and grandeur held every listener spellbound. The solemn
beauty of the "_Offertorium_," "_Sanctus_" and "_Dies Iræ_" proved
specially noticeable, and must have seriously suggested to the late
Dr. von Bülow, who was present criticising the work, that beautiful
part-writing was an art not altogether unknown to the Italian musician.
The pent-up interest in the score was, however, soon to give vent. In
order to afford many others an opportunity of hearing the mass, and
of expressing their feelings spontaneously, Verdi permitted it to be
performed three times at La Scala Theatre, undertaking, good-naturedly,
to conduct the first performance. Then on Monday, the 25th May, the
theatre was crammed with an audience which--no longer restrained by
sacred surroundings--shouted applause from beginning to end of the
work. Several of the numbers were encored, and more than once the vast
crowd of people rose _en masse_ crying, "_Viva Verdi!_"
In 1874 (4th June) the work was given in Paris, at one of the Salle
Favart "Matinées Spirituelles," when the same solo singers as at Milan
rendered the mass superbly. Later on it was brought to England, and a
memorable performance of it took place at the Royal Albert Hall, when
Verdi himself wielded the _bâton_. This was on Saturday afternoon, 15th
May 1875. The soloists were Madame Stolz (soprano), Madame Waldmann
(contralto), Signor Masini (tenor), and Signor Medini (bass), who
were supported by the powerful choral and instrumental resources for
which this great music hall is famous. The exact complement of the
band was 150, while the chorus numbered some 500 to 600 singers. Upon
making his appearance Verdi, as may be imagined, received a tremendous
ovation, for he had not been in London since 1847, when he attended
the production of his opera _I Masnadieri_ at the Royal Italian Opera.
The master proved a good conductor, his style and method as a _chef
d'orchestre_ being as firm and assuring for his forces as it was
attractive and instructive to the audience that watched his beat.
The performance was in every sense a success, and marked with all
that enthusiasm which the presence of a great artist always provokes,
albeit the effects realised in Milan and Paris were, it was generally
admitted, not attained in so vast a hall. The numbers that seemed to
please most were the "_Lachrymosa dies illa_," the "_Agnus Dei_" duet,
and the double chorus "_Sanctus_."
From this and subsequent renderings of the _Requiem_, the general
English public have formed whatever judgment it may now entertain of
the work. These opinions are not necessarily correct, since they are
based, as unscientific opinions about music generally are, upon the
attractiveness rather than on the intrinsic worth of the music as
Church or ecclesiastical art-work.
The Mass is comprised in the following seven numbers:--
1. "_Requiem_" and "_Kyrie_" for quartet and chorus.
2. "_Dies Iræ_"--in four parts, solo and chorus, with trio for
soprano, contralto, and tenor.
3. "_Offertorium._"
4. "_Sanctus_"--fugue, with double chorus.
5. "_Agnus Dei_"--duet and chorus, soprano and contralto.
6. "_Lux Æterna_"--trio for soprano, tenor, and bass.
7. "_Libera me_"--soprano solo, chorus, and fugue finale.
These combine to make up a fairly perfect example of the modern Italian
grand mass.
The late Dr. Hans von Bülow declared this work to be a monstrosity,
and when it was performed at the Paris Opéra Comique, although the
enthusiasm quite equalled that evoked at Milan, the opinion in the
_foyer_ was divided as to whether the mass was a sacred or a secular
work! Here was a serious blot for a great man's composition which
aimed at being sacred, both in intent and tone. Fearlessly the purists
persisted in their charge that the work was purely secular and
operatic in style. Other alleged defects of the mass were subsequently
discovered. For instance, one writer declared that "there are more than
a hundred mistakes in the progression of the parts." Was all this true?
When, at the age of sixty-one, Verdi surprised the musical world
(which, up to that time, had known him only as an opera composer) with
a composition for the Church, anxiety was great to catch the ravishing
melodist as a creator of ecclesiastical music. This done, it was
possible to admit that the style of the great _Requiem_ was elevated,
even pathetic, in its religious expression, replete with youthful fire.
_Soli_, _ensembles_, and choruses were, by their masterly polyphony,
adjudged worthy of Mendelssohn himself. Some ground for such praise
really existed, for here and there Verdi, in the _Requiem_, even
approaches Mozart in depth of feeling, while his manner of expression
is allied to the modern classical school.
Indisputably, however, Verdi's _Requiem_ is an Italian mass, both in
character and colour. Its prevailing features are identical with those
of the _Stabat Mater_ and the _Messe Solennelle_ of Rossini. There is
local colour, the atmosphere of which can never be dispelled; besides,
too, comes a flood of luxuriant, entrancing melody, characteristic
of the Italian operatic school. All southern nations, the Italians
especially, love sound for the sensuous effect it produces. They
love not laboured theoretical art. Is this admissible in Church
music? Rapturous, unctuous music is not permanently strengthening and
soul-raising. Emotionally, it carries to a great height, only to lead
to a reaction, and to some lower estimate of music that captivates
but does not elevate. In the _Requiem_, there is abundant theoretical
workmanship--more such evidence than is usually met with in modern
Italian Church music; yet, although this was the studied purpose of the
musician, it has not enabled Verdi to rid himself of characteristics
which stamp southern musical art as plainly as they do the architecture
and the person. Sensuous and exciting music is acceptable enough in
its way, but it does not constitute good Church music. It is this
character, inseparable from the Italian nature, that forbids an
unqualified acceptation of the _Missa da Requiem_ as a contribution to
the store of best Church music. None but the wildest partisans could
deny, however, that in this mass Verdi has given to the world some of
the finest music he ever wrote; he has, moreover, furnished abundant
proof of his scholarship as a theorist, showing that he really was
able to do more than string tempting melodies together to please the
capacities of the _polloi_.
While approved musical taste remains what it is, and does not
degenerate, modern Italian Church music will not be highly regarded
for use in the sanctuary. Northern and southern Europe are much wider
apart in Church musical style than they are geographically; and all
sound musicians know where to look for that style and expression which
most nearly approach the ecclesiastical ideal. The _stila fugata_
is nobler and sterner than the straightforward melody sumptuously
accompanied, so that the Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven mass, and the
_oratorii_ of Bach, Handel, Mendelssohn, and Spohr, furnish a far more
appropriate, and adequate, sacred musical manner than does anything
that is Italian. With the Teuton style come mysticism and reverence;
with the Italian passion and secularism, the latter ill-suited indeed
to profound doctrines propounded at Church altars. A melody may be as
ample a medium for religious expression as an eight-voice fugue; hence,
it is not imperative that Italian musicians should practise writing
oratorios on a wholesale scale before essaying Church music. It is
not the medium, however, that we are contending against. Some of the
greatest, grandest prayers have been expressed in simplest song. It is
the colouring element, the atmosphere, pervading southern Church music
which, being operatic, renders such music inadmissible by the side of
German and English religious art. This objectionable feature stamps
Verdi's _Requiem_ from beginning to end. The score is impregnated with
the world, and not with the cloister. The Italian worshipper must have
movement and action, rather than reflection, even in his devotional
music. As we think, the contemplative mood rather than the persuasive
is the one to inspire, as well as to promote, a due appreciation of
lofty things, and a religious service. This, Teuton music supplies,
but the modern Italian article does not. The old Italian masters
remembered the altar, not the stage, so that the masses of musicians
like Palestrina, Marcello, Caldara, and Lotti are infinitely more
reverent in tone and reach than their modern successors. Let it not
be forgotten, _en passant_, that the Germans stand indebted to the
Italians for the fugue, transmitted to them in some instances, in as
fully developed a manner as could be desired, and in certain features
unsurpassable in its completeness.
[Illustration: Giovanni Provesi]
If Verdi's _Requiem_, however, does not attain to perfection as Church
music, it is, nevertheless, a grand work, a masterpiece in originality
and scholarly treatment that will always be listened to with
admiration, whether in oratory or concert hall. Like Rossini's _Stabat
Mater_, it will doubtless be rendered from time to time by choral
bodies in quest of effective performing works; but no sound Church
musician will ever seriously regard it as an example of what Church
music should be, or is ever likely to become. Probably it will be one
of the scores that, with his Third period operas, will best preserve
Verdi's name, but it will never carry the _maestro_ into the company of
the world's great sacred composers.
Besides this contribution to sacred music, Verdi composed other works
outside his universally known operas. He was not the busy, successful,
creative musician at one bound. Between the ages of thirteen and
eighteen he wrote several marches for a brass band, some short
symphonies, six concertos, and variations for pianoforte, which he used
to play himself; many serenatas, cantatas, arias, duets, trios, a small
_Stabat Mater_, and some Church compositions. During the three years
that he remained at Milan, he composed two symphonies, and a cantata,
and upon his return to Busseto he wrote a mass, a vesper, and three
_Tantum Ergos_, besides composing music to Manzoni's tragedies. In 1880
a _Paternoster_ for five voices fell from his pen; and an _Ave Maria_
for soprano solo is a cherished composition.
With one notable exception, Verdi, having taken to vocal composition,
never left it for essays in the realm of instrumental music. This
exception is a Quartet in E minor for strings, which has been played
on more than one occasion at the Monday Popular Concerts. It must be
admitted to be an unequal work--the first and last movements having
but little interest, while the second and third are more spontaneous
and attractive. It is not likely to become a classic, however, nor
will interest attach to it so much for its merit and worth as for its
being the single piece of chamber music with which the English public
are familiar from the pen of the famous _Trovatore_ master. But for
an enforced leisure this quartet might never have been written. Verdi
was at Naples superintending the rehearsal of one of his operas, when
suddenly one of the principal singers was seized with an indisposition.
This brought matters to a standstill; when, not to be idle, Verdi set
about the composition of this quartet.
All these early compositions, save the symphonies, the tragedies,
and quartet music, are lost, but as they were probably more adapted
for civic archives, as samples of youthful industry, rather than as
inspirations of genius, this is not to be greatly deplored. It remains
to be added that--with Auber (France), Meyerbeer (Germany), Sterndale
Bennett (England)--Verdi (Italy) wrote the cantata "_L'Inno delle
Nazioni_" for the International Exhibition of 1862; but the work was
not performed at the Exhibition because of some expression of feeling
on the part of the late Sir Michael Costa. The final rejection of
it by the Commissioners gave rise to much comment at the time. It
was subsequently given at Her Majesty's Theatre, 24th May 1862, and
repeated the following Tuesday.
The scene is supposed to be the interior of the new Crystal Palace on
the opening day, when people of all nations are assembled under the
wondrous roof.
Musically its form is a solo rendered by one of the people, to which
the whole gathering join in universal chorus.
"The cantata," we are told, "was admirably got up and performed. The
solo part was magnificently sung by Mdlle. Titiens; and the chorus,
two hundred and fifty strong, included the most eminent members of
the company. On the first night the reception of the performance was
enthusiastic. The whole piece was encored, and repeated with increased
spirit and effect. Signor Verdi was called for several times, and when
he presented himself, led forward first by Mdlle. Titiens, and then by
Signor Giuglini, he was received with reiterated acclamations."[60]
In the instrumental department of music Verdi has accomplished, as
indeed he has attempted, but little. This is in keeping with the habit
of his countrymen. Italians possess neither the industry nor the
application requisite to plan and build a vast orchestral conception.
They bask under an azure sky, while other men slave in the privacy of
their closets and studios. It is reserved for the Teuton, with all his
wondrous plodding, to frame and make grand tone-poems, lavish with
ideal intent and richest colour, which become subjects of admiration
and wonder the more it is realised that orchestral resource alone is
the agent employed. The southern climate does not conduce to exertion
and serious application; and the Italian, necessarily, wants some
rousing to enter the lists with the weather-bound Teuton, in the
construction of laborious examples of art demanding the exercise of
the highest orchestral study and exposition. Further, Italians have
an instinctive tendency towards vocal music. They can create it as
naturally as they sing it, and it is no concern to them to write a
melody, or sketch a lightly-contrived orchestral piece in the snug
corner of a café, or behind the sheltering blind of a sun-pierced
_osteria_. Fugue, canon, double counterpoint, charm not the Italians.
They don't catch the meaning of the term _development_ in theoretical
art, and if they succeed in a distinct rhythm, simply harmonised,
with a well-balanced period, the musical desire is satisfied. Without
development there can be no such thing as a great orchestral structure.
A theme must be taken and worked out in the wondrous Beethoven fashion
ere anything instrumental worth the name of a symphony or overture can
be evolved. All this means musical patience and application, which
Italians have not; otherwise overtures to Italian operas would be
something else than melodies of the opera, announced to the audience
at the outset, in order to acquaint them with choice tunes that are to
follow.
[Footnote 60: _Illustrated London News_, 31st May 1862.]