POLITICIAN AND CITIZEN
A born politician--Attempt to draw Verdi--The revolutionary ring of
Verdi's music--Signor Basevi on this feature--National and
political honours and distinctions--An inactive senator--England's
neglect--The composer's nature and character--Bluntness of
speech--A dissatisfied auditor--Verdi's alleged parsimony--Verdi
and the curate--The gossips and his fortune--Life at St. Agata
villa--An "eighty-two" word-portrait--Verdi's old-age vigour--Love
of flowers--His hobby at the Genoa _palazzo_--Independence of
character.
Had Verdi not been a musician, he would probably have proved an ardent,
daring politician. Italy would be loving and honouring him to-day for
his political principles and _amor patriæ_, not less admiringly, not
less fervently, than she now regards him for his vast harmonious gifts.
As it was, he persistently declined to meddle with the tapes and wires
of State matters. An attempt to draw Verdi politically was made in
the spring of 1894, during the rehearsal of _Falstaff_ in Paris. One
of the singers put out a "feeler." "Don't, for goodness' sake," he
answered, "talk to me about politics. I have never paid any attention
to them, and I am not likely to do so at my time of life; I have quite
enough to do with my music." We have seen how his countrymen made him
their political idol, and would assuredly have him know that they were
looking to him as a deliverer from the Austrian yoke, even though
he spoke through a medium that is usually resorted to for peaceful,
rather than for revolutionary ends. The temper of his music was just
to their liking, and Verdi took no pains to hide his sympathy with his
countrymen under their yoke of foreign overlordship, albeit the success
of opera after opera turned upon his peace with the authorities.
In the chorus, "_O mia patria, si bella e perduta_," chanted by Hebrew
slaves in _I Lombardi_, the Milanese saw a reflection of their own
wretchedness. Purposely did Verdi write ardent exciting melodies.
They had power to, and did move the populace; and if at times they
seem commonplace, and even vulgar, they were thoroughly suited to the
singers, auditors, and conditions with which he had to deal. Thus Verdi
was an enlisted chief, an instrument, in the fortunes of the House of
Savoy. _V E R D I_ spelt the name of the composer. The capitals stood
for the initials of "Victor Emmanuel, Ré d'Italia." How the impatient
Lombardians seized hold of what seemed to them to be an inspired
coincidence! Under cover of the name Verdi, avowedly their musical god,
they could shout for Italian liberty and independence, right into the
ears of Austrian spies and sentinels. "_Viva Verdi! Viva Verdi!_" from
the mouths of the populace meant not only a tribute to the patriotic
musician whom they idolised, but was another way of demanding Victor
Emmanuel in lieu of the Archduke Francis. If the police interfered with
the patriots, it was their beloved musician that had so moved them,
and for whom they were shouting! "The streets," says a chronicler,
referring to the time, "were filled with placards in white, red, and
green, the Italian colours: VERDI in such big letters that nothing else
was visible on the posters."[68]
Thus was Verdi, the musician and patriot, entwined inseparably round
the hearts of his countrymen, to the lasting advantage of both, at a
time when Italy stood in great need of the support and succour of all
her sons.
In the eyes of Verdi the national liberty was a thing to be
accomplished, and if he did not shoulder the rifle in the struggles
of 1859 and 1860, which, beginning with the freeing of Lombardy,
ended in a free and united Italy, the clarion he sounded was so
certain that no one would mistake its intent. Directly he began to
sing, the inflammatory ring of his music arrested and stirred the
Venetians. Rossini may well have dubbed Verdi "_le musicien qui a un
casque_" (the musician with a helmet). The first signs were detected
in _Nabucco_, then in _I Lombardi_,[69] and with _Ernani_ there was a
further outburst of the musical liberator's mind. The highest pitch of
enthusiasm followed his ardent strains, and scarcely a performance of
the _Ernani_ went by without political demonstration. _Attila_ fired
a further desire for liberty. The feelings of the Venetians--still
clamouring for independence--when they heard the air, "_Cara patria,
già madre e regina_," knew no bounds, and for a while the performance
could not proceed. At the verse, "_Avrai tu L'universo vesti L'Italia
me!_" the whole audience, seized with frenzy, shouted with one voice,
"_A noi!_" "_L'Italia a noi!_" Then when Palma, the Spanish tenor,
sang his air, "_La patria tradita_," in _Macbeth_, the people were
so reminded of the foreign despotism they were suffering from that
they became uproarious, and the Austrian Grenadiers had to be called
in. _La Battaglia di Legnano_ was purposely pitched in an aggressive
key. Signor Basevi has said--"From 1849 onwards, during ten years of
national strife and protests, Verdi carried on politics in music, as
we have all done in literature and humour. He carried on politics in
music because, perhaps, without himself being conscious of it, he drew
from the restlessness and tumult of his soul a kind of music which
responded precisely to the restlessness and tumult of our minds; but
when these tumults, these spasms burst forth, then he no longer sought
for subjects of the present day to render extrinsic in action the
sentiments which he had divined so marvellously when they were shut up
in the mind of the public for whom he wrote."[70]
Not alone were the eyes of Italy fixed upon Verdi. He was the recipient
of honours and marks of esteem which were far from confined to his
own land. As a member of the National Assembly of Parma, to which the
citizens of Busseto elected him in 1859, he voted for the annexation of
the duchy to Sardinia. The French nation made him Corresponding Member
of the Académie des Beaux Arts in the same year. In 1861 Verdi was
elected a Deputy of the Italian Parliament. Cavour wanted to see in the
first national parliament the real blood and sinew of the country--the
men who, as he said, "had helped to make Italy, whether in literature,
art, or science." The composer hesitated, and at last yielded to the
statesman's entreaty; but he only attended a meeting or two, for, as he
said, he loved and preferred retirement to political excitement. In the
year 1862 Verdi was decorated with the Grand Cross of the Russian Order
of St. Stanislaus, of the Paris Académie des Beaux Arts, being head of
the poll with twenty-three votes. His own country has honoured him.
Knowing how much Verdi had at heart the musical keeping of his country,
the Italian Minister of Public Instruction, in 1871, selected him to
visit Florence, to assume the post offered him for the improvement and
reorganisation of the Italian Musical Institute. Then his sovereign
recognised him. In 1872 he was created a Grand Officer of the Order of
the Crown of Italy, and in the same year the Khedive of Egypt conferred
on him the Order of Osmanie. The offer of the title of Marquis of
Busseto was made to him after the production of _Falstaff_, but he
declined it, preferring to remain plain Signor Verdi.
Following this recognition, Victor Emmanuel (by a decree dated 22nd
November 1874) created him a Senator of the Italian Kingdom. The
musician attended in due course to take the customary oath of office;
but beyond this solitary occasion he attended no meeting of that
solemn body. The honour was not a useless one, however, for one day an
enterprising _entrepreneur_ was found announcing _Aïda_ as the work
of Maestro _Senatore_ Verdi, thinking evidently of his political as
well as of his musical status. With the year 1875 further honours were
bestowed upon the illustrious composer. He was decorated with the Cross
of Commander, and Star, of the Austrian Order of Franz Joseph; and,
being already a member of the Legion of Honour, he was in May of this
same year nominated a Commander of the Legion. The Italian Minister
at Paris was charged to present him with the insignia of the Order,
accompanied by a flattering letter from the Duke Decazes. Many and
various other honours have fallen upon Verdi. When _Otello_ was first
performed in Paris, for instance, the President of the Republic (M.
Casimir-Périer), before the beginning of the second act, invested the
composer with the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour. Only England
has done nothing. Good old insular England, that can distinguish and
single out successful pickle-makers and milliners, but cannot find an
honour to bestow on many a worthy and wondrous slave to Art and Science!
Many and many have been the less public attentions which Verdi has
received at the hands of his fellow-countrymen. An early mark of
recognition was the presentation by Prince Poniatowski of a gold laurel
crown each leaf of which was inscribed with the title of one of his
works. This was upon the occasion of the performance of _Macbeth_ at
Florence. When _Aïda_ was first performed, the artists presented the
composer with an ivory sceptre ornamented with a star of diamonds; the
title _Aïda_ was set in rubies, whilst _Verdi_, worked in precious
stones, stood out on a branch of laurel. A further memento fell to the
composer when _Aïda_ was given at the Paris Opéra. Delegates from the
Italian colony waited upon the distinguished musician and handed him a
crown of pure gold designed of laurel branches, the whole resting on a
velvet cushioned stand, suitably inscribed. The Parisians placed a fine
bust of the composer in the Grand Opéra _foyer_. It was by Danton, who
had already made some capital out of the composer by caricaturing him
at the keys of the piano, with a lion's mane and claws.
We venture the opinion that no better presentment of the famous
composer's features than the full-length portrait at the opening of
this volume has ever been given to English people. It is thoroughly
characteristic of the man to-day. His face is fairly familiar to most
of us. We all remember his thoughtful countenance and well-shaped head,
with its finely-chiselled features, and dark eyes full of the fire of
genius, the whole set off with a liberal gift of hair on the head and
face. The slender build and highly-strung temperament at once arrest
the eye; nor can we fail to be attracted by the tidily-attired exterior
of the master. Verdi is best seen under the ordeal of some operatic
triumph. Then through all the excitement he remains what he is--a
quiet, calm, modest gentleman, one of those intellectual giants who
scorn to trade upon their greatness.
Verdi is a man of deep human sympathy. The loss of his first wife and
his children shrouded him in a sad mood, which he cannot throw off,
and the peculiarly gloomy and tragic nature of many of his operas has
been attributed to his domestic afflictions. Again, when the great
poet and distinguished author of _I Promessi Sposi_ died, Verdi was
quite overcome. Only when he had poured forth his _Requiem_ to his dead
friend's honoured memory, did he feel that his tribute of affection
towards Manzoni had been at all adequately made. Verdi's goodness of
heart is seen in his treatment of his favourite librettist Francesco
Piave, when dire misfortune befell him. The man who had written the
libretti of _I Due Foscari_, _Macbeth_, _Il Corsaro_, _Stiffelio_,
_Rigoletto_, _Traviata_, _Simon Boccanegra_, and _La Forza del
Destino_, was one day discovered unhinged in body and mind, unfit for
every place save the lunatic asylum. Finding his patient poet thus
afflicted, Verdi settled a pension on him for life, and quieted the
poor fellow's mind by undertaking the charge of an only child and
providing for her welfare. Nothing weak marks Verdi's character; on
the contrary, he, like most good musicians, has a firm will, rather
prone at times to be susceptible and suspicious. One day, during the
rehearsal of _Les Vêpres Siciliennes_ in Paris, the _maestro_ received
a slight from the members of the orchestra, who did not relish the
pains which Verdi was taking to secure his points. Upon explaining
to the _chef d'orchestre_, the next attempt was a plain annoyance;
whereupon the master seized his hat, and did not appear again at
the theatre! Stories of his bluntness of speech are plentiful. At a
rehearsal of _Falstaff_ at Milan, the singers and musicians gave him an
ovation when he entered the Opera-house. In response he said, "I thank
you all; but will thank you more if you do better in your performance
than last time." When _La Traviata_ was a failure at Venice, Varesi,
the baritone, and other interpreters of the work, thinking to console
Verdi, paid him their condolences; but he only exclaimed, "Make them to
yourself and your companions, who have not grasped my music." Withal,
the master can enter into the spirit of a joke. When the _Aïda_ was
produced at Milan in 1872, a certain person named Bertoni went from a
neighbouring village to hear it; his outing, including supper, cost
him fifteen francs ninety centimes. He happened not to like the opera.
However, the next day, on finding it praised on all sides, he resolved
to give it another trial. Accordingly, when it was again performed, he
went for a second time to hear it, spent twenty francs, and was more
dissatisfied than ever. Full of anger, he wrote to Verdi, telling him
that the opera was a failure, doomed to early oblivion, and asking
for the return of thirty-five francs ninety centimes, which sum, he
alleged, he had wasted on going to hear it! Verdi was not offended.
He sided with the aggrieved one. Taking a pen in hand, he authorised
his publisher to send Signor Bertoni thirty-one francs fifty centimes,
adding, "It is not quite as much as the gentleman demands, but I
think he could have had his supper at home!" The composer made the
stipulation, too, that the melomaniac should not again attend the
representations of the composer's works at his expense, except upon his
written order. Quite natural too!
He has a great love for his fellow-men, especially the poor people.
Thus he often creates work on his estate in the shape of quite
unnecessary alterations and buildings, chiefly to give occupation to
the poor people. One day the inevitable organ-grinder struck up the
strains of _Il Trovatore_ within hearing of his studio. Carducci, the
Tennyson of Italy, was with him, and seemed irritated. "How do you like
it?" said he. "Let him go on--it pleases me; and besides, we must all
live somehow," was the reply.
Verdi has been charged with being mean, but the above anecdotes do not
tell against him; nor indeed does his long and unbroken association
with his music publishers (the famous house of Ricordi) show that Verdi
has been asking impossible prices for his works. Naturally he fixes
his figure with his publisher; but with a bargain once struck the
matter ends. As a point of fact the _maestro_ is a very benevolent man,
who often sends gifts of money anonymously to those in distress and
poverty. But he has a great dislike to his gifts being made public.
Numerous philanthropic works, and in particular the hospital at
Busseto, owe their existence to Verdi. Thereof an anecdote is told.
The hospital is directed by the Mayor of the Commune. One day he went
to Verdi to complain of the curate, who, as chaplain of the hospital,
took advantage of his position to meddle with all the affairs of the
administration. The curate was of a certain age, and very despotic; and
the Mayor, in order to get rid of him, asked Verdi what he should do.
The _maestro_ grew tired of the long details produced by the Mayor in
support of his complaint, suddenly cut him short, and said, "The curate
is charged with the confession of the patients, and their burial when
they die. If he interferes with anything else, _kick him out of doors_."
[Illustration: A signed photograph of Giulio Ricordi. The inscription
reads "_All' Egregio Signor Crowest Giulio Ricordi_"]
The gossips have been busy with the disposition of Verdi's supposed
enormous fortune. The following is a sample of many tales that have
been the round of the European press: "Verdi is credited with the
intention of doing something both handsome and original with the
fortune which he has accumulated during his lifetime.... Verdi has no
son, and he does not recognise any obligation to enrich any distant
relations that he may possess. He therefore directs that the ten
million lire which he will leave behind him shall be employed in making
happy those who helped him to earn them--namely, musicians and lyric
artists. A magnificent palace is to be built in his grounds, and this
is to form the home of any Italian musicians and singers who may find
themselves in straitened circumstances at the close of their career."
In the summer of 1849 Verdi bought the villa St. Agata, some two miles
from Busseto, which ever since has remained his favourite residence.
The house is well off the high road, concealed from view by large
trees and shrubs--a condition which probably favoured the operations
of the "crack and jemmy knights," who a year or two back succeeded in
burglariously disturbing the peaceful harmony of the composer's home.
Adjoining are all the appurtenances of a country gentleman's estate.
Some years after the loss of his first wife and children Verdi married
Madame Strepponi, who happily is to-day spared to the master. Most
of the year is passed at St. Agata, the winter months being spent at
Genoa, where the climate is more genial.
Certain reports have credited Verdi with living the life of a recluse,
whose only companions are two enormous Pyrenean hounds, while days are
said to be spent by the master in his studio, which is shut off from
the castle, and from which room Verdi is credited with emerging only
for the purpose of obtaining sleep. No one, the wild reports went, was
admitted save those who came by special invitation; so that often a
distinguished personage would make his way to the guarded stronghold
only to be met by the information that there was no admission.
Naturally shy and reserved, Verdi has ever studiously avoided the
public stare, and repeatedly, when he has been petitioned to visit this
or that town, he has firmly but respectfully declined, especially when
he has foreseen that no purpose was to be served beyond that of honour
to himself. The artistic temperament, especially in a great musician,
differs from that of the city man and merchant, and precludes him from
living ostentatiously, often vulgarly, or keeping so-called open house.
All his close artist acquaintances, and many a musical stranger, have
been visitors or guests at either the luxurious villa St. Agata or the
Genoa Palazzo Doria, and there are many living who could testify to the
charm and hospitality of the composer at home.
One of the best word-portraits of Verdi was drawn by the Paris
correspondent of _The Globe_ in 1894, at the time when the _maestro_
was presiding over the rehearsals of his _Otello_, which was to be
produced at the Grand Opéra:--"Verdi, in spite of his great age," the
sketch ran--"he is now close on eighty-two--has preserved, both as
a man and as a composer, the ardour and warmth of his youth. He is
reproached with being short-tempered, and even violent; thus it is
that, in spite of his well-known kindness, it is not always easy to get
on with him. He wears his white hair and beard long. His features are
a little hard, but remarkably intelligent. His customary attitude is
that of meditation. He walks with his head bent down, and with long and
measured steps. Few persons have seen him smile, much less laugh. It
is said he has never been able to console himself for the loss of his
two sons (son and daughter), who died in the same year as their mother.
Neither fortune nor glory has sufficed to make him forget his terrible
bereavements."
The secret of Verdi's wonderfully maintained vitality is the old _mens
sana in corpore sano_ principle. He is an early riser, and after his
cup of black coffee, the early morning finds him about his garden or
farm. Flowers form his favourite hobby. Behind the old _palazzo_ at
Genoa is a terrace with a large garden, beyond which may be seen the
fine expanse of the Gulf of Genoa. This garden is Verdi's care; but
that the attentions of its gardener are often unequal to the energy
of Nature may easily be discerned. Sometimes the lines of pots of
camellias and geraniums on the terrace present rather a dried-up and
neglected appearance. But no one must meddle with them. It is Verdi's
special duty to tend and water these, although they are evidently often
disregarded. No one dare tamper with these flowers, and if a visitor
appropriates a blossom unasked, it annoys Verdi considerably. Yet never
is the musician prouder, or more the grand man, than when presenting
any particular visitor with one of his horticultural specimens. He
rides almost daily, and composes a little each day. Then he lives
sparingly, and is most abstemious, taking, after the Italian fashion,
more cheese and eggs than meat. Verdi cares little for music in his
home, and seldom visits the opera save for business purposes. "At St.
Agata," he wrote to Filippi, the Italian critic, "we neither make nor
talk about music; you will run the risk of finding a piano not only out
of tune, but very likely without strings." To talk "shop" in Verdi's
hearing is objectionable to him, and no act of indiscretion could be
greater than the one of begging a musical question or discussion.
His chief indoor amusement is a game of cards or billiards with his
wife and relations. All reading he leaves until the evening, and this
partakes mostly of poetry and philosophy.
All through life Verdi has been a God-fearing man. Pandering to nobody,
he has maintained a perfectly independent, straightforward method. Nor
has he countenanced any but honest dealings; while to place himself
in the hands of his artists, great or small, has been quite beyond
him. He has demanded only the best efforts of his workers. Thus on the
eve of the production of _Aïda_ he wrote to a friend: "I wish nothing
more than a good, and, above all, intelligent vocal and instrumental
execution and _mise en scène_. As to the rest, _à la grace de Dieu_;
for thus I began, and thus I wish to finish my career."
[Footnote 68: _Life of Verdi_ (Roosevelt), p. 33.]
[Footnote 69: The chorus, "_O Signore dal tetto natio_," from _I
Lombardi_, being sung in the streets of Venice and Milan, fomented the
first demonstration against Austrian rule.]
[Footnote 70: _Verdi_ (Pougin--Matthew), p. 123.]