EFFECT UPON AND PLACE IN OPERA
Origin of Opera--Melody in music--The first opera,
_Dafne_--Monteverde's advances--Early opera orchestration--Gluck's
reformed style in _Orfeo_ and _Alceste_--A complete
structure--Verdi's starting point--Wagner's methods--Verdi's early
operas--_Don Carlos_ and an altered style--Its reception--A Third,
or matured period method--Its characteristics--_Aïda_, _Otello_,
and _Falstaff_--Verdi's disciples--Opera as a social need past and
present--Its reasonable decline--Verdi's ultimate position--His
lasting works.
To perfectly understand Verdi it is necessary to know something of the
origin and development of opera, both as a form and an institution.
The Italian school of music had been a power since 1480-1520, when
Pope Julian II. invited Belgian, or Netherlands school, musicians to
Italy to take charge of its musical affairs. The first distinguished
Italian master was Festa (_d._ 1545), remarkable for that grace and
melody which have ever characterised the Italian school. Palestrina
(1514-1594), _Magister puerorum_ at St. Peter's, Rome, followed, and
then came the awakening of opera. It was natural that this life should
spring from Italy. The sky above, and the earth beneath, constituted
a rare cradle of art. Melody in music is paramount; technically it
forms the wings that give flight to every movement; without it, music
would be a helpless mass, unendurable to consider. Once present,
melody carries all before it. This was a perfectly natural growth in
Italy, more so than it has ever been found to be in any other country,
for the national life, habits, language, and physical conditions all
favoured an expression of the mind in the melodically beautiful. In
opera, melody was ever the great essential feature in the eyes of the
Italians, and although there have been struggles to dislodge, or depose
it, the evening of Verdi's career--the culminating point in the history
of Italian Opera--furnishes the convincing proof that tune still
remains the predominant factor in successful dramatic construction
and realisation; for what would be the value of _Aïda_, _Otello_, and
_Falstaff_, if they had not melody?
Musical authorities accept _Dafne_, produced in 1594, as the first
actual opera. It was the work of a few Florentine _literati_, who
had banded together as a society, with the aim to revive the ancient
Greek dramatic style--in fact to restore the theatre of Æschylus and
Sophocles. It had words by Rinuccini and music by Peri. The feature
of this dramatic-musical novelty was its _musica-parlante_--a species
of monody, or declamation, claimed to be _à la Grec_. Out of this
grew "recitative"--so important an element in vocal music that it is
difficult to imagine how the art could exist without it. Song, tune,
or melody, whichever name we apply to it, might be, and probably would
have been, dispensed with, if all the notions and novelties of the
Wagner cult had taken effect; but, recitative must always stand as a
connecting link between the chorus and other concerted pieces in the
opera.
The orchestral accompaniments to _Dafne_ consisted of a harpsichord,
_chittarone_--which was a sort of guitar--a lyre, and a lute. This
meant a scanty orchestra compared with the vast instrumental resources
adopted by Meyerbeer, Wagner, and by Verdi himself. When the second
opera, _Euridice_, was produced--this was at Florence in 1600--it
contained, for the first time, all the constituents wanting in opera,
viz. recitative, air, chorus, and a hidden orchestra.
Opera proper was, therefore, purely an Italian product, which, with
all its defects and inadmissibilities, has held its ground for three
centuries. If, too, during this long period it has seemed as little
more than a luxurious form of amusement for quality people in England,
it must be remembered that the great middle class here have tasted it,
while the student and amateur have considered and digested the musical
stage-play, and found it invested with a noble influence and character
that could scarcely fail to elevate, where the ordinary drama might
lower the public taste and morals. In Italy the opera is as much the
necessary food of the common people as of the aristocracy.
Monteverde (1566-1650) stamped a second period in opera. He invested
recitative with greater strength and freedom, and astonished
contemporary purists with his audacious orchestral designs. In his
_Orfeo_, produced in 1603, Monteverde incorporated every known
instrument, viz. two harpsichords, two lyres, ten violas, three
bass violas, two violins, flute, clarions, trombones, guitars or
_chittaroni_, and the organ.
It is easy to realise the almost boundless possibilities of music when
it comes to be recognised and manipulated as a medium of expression
or impression; while many readers will be familiar with the almost
superhuman achievements of the great tone-poets in handling the
resources of music to this end--the end and aim of all music worthy the
name. It was that prince of Italian harmonists, Monteverde, who took
opera to the borders of that almost limitless field, where the great
melodists and colourists took it up, making a permanent life art-form
and a speaking body from the otherwise lifeless art materials.
Scarlatti (1659-1725) impressed the _aria_ or principal song, from
which time melody began to receive that attention which led finally to
its being the principal constituent in Italian opera. Lotti, Caldara,
Gasparini, Jommelli, Porporo, and Buononcini, who followed, all
gave prominence to the soloists at the cost of the chorus and other
concerted pieces, thus leading steadily up to the great scenas which
Verdi created.
Gluck (1714-1787) came with a regenerating mission. A century and a
half's growth of opera in Italy had reduced it to a mere exhibition
of singing, and to restore it to something of an embodiment of all
the arts--architecture, painting, poetry, music, and dancing--was
Gluck's mission. His reformed style, as given in _Orfeo_ (1762), and
later in _Alceste_ (1767), certainly justified his demand for reform,
and will always entitle him to be called "the saviour of opera." His
influence bore more upon the French opera than the Italian, however,
and it was left to his great contemporary Piccini (1728-1800) to bring
the old Italian model up to the date of Gluck's new style. To this
end he effected improvements in the _arias_, duets, and vocal pieces,
curtailed the repeats, employed several themes instead of one for
his _finali_, all of which tended to put a new complexion on Italian
opera. Then arose Spontini (1784-1851), who advanced the dramatic side
of opera; Rossini (1792-1868), insisting upon larger choruses and the
strengthening of the wind and brass department of the orchestra; with,
finally, Donizetti (1797-1848), and Bellini (1802-1835), whose melodic
exuberance simply embarrassed and vitiated Italian opera.
Such, briefly, is the story of the rise and development of Italian
opera, which, thanks to the labours of his great predecessors, was
a reasonably complete art-form long before Verdi scored his first
operatic success with _Nabucco_, albeit it had not many characteristics
which it now has. The First period Verdi had no great need to improve,
or add to, the structure of opera; what was before him chiefly was
the work of embellishing and highly colouring the edifice of dramatic
musical art (though we know he did immeasurably more)--a labour for
which his rare sense of colour and combination peculiarly fitted him.
Verdi's starting point was where Rossini, Mercadante, Donizetti, and
Bellini had left Italian opera; and, but for circumstances quite
outside himself, he might have gone on writing operas of the _Ernani_,
_I Lombardi_, and _Il Trovatore_ type, leaving his later grander
efforts, his _chefs d'œuvre_, unwritten. But a great object appeared
suddenly in the musical firmament. Wagner (1813-1883), with his train
of fads and fancies, swept across the horizon, leaving unmistakable
traces of his passage. At first, content with the old traditional
opera--with which he might have done wonders--this vast genius set
about advancing and propagating unusual ideas concerning operatic usage
and creation. The established forms and systems were chiefly attacked.
In Italian opera, music and melody were the prime considerations.
Under the Wagnerian teaching, the full and right dramatic exposition
became the chief aim. This unquestionably involved a subserviency of
the beautiful in music. With Wagner the dramatic language is the most
essential part of the work. In the music of the _Meistersinger_, for
instance, he "fitted music to the thought expressed in language so
imperceptibly that the latter is the dominant element." In _Tristan
und Isolde_ is the clear divorce from traditional form. Declamation,
supported by music expressing the meaning of the words, displaces
all the old-time operatic methods--dramatic _ensembles_, recitative
alternated with song, closed and half closed forms, etc. This was a
return to the long deceased monody of Peri and Monteverde, and in
absolute contradistinction to all that the great Italian, German, and
French music masters had done. Other and minor notions, such as the
_leit motif_ (the kiss theme), the ever-recurring phrases that were
constructed in order to be identified with this or that character,
distinguished the Wagnerian style--a style which it is necessary for
the student of Verdi to be able to recognise, because, as we have seen,
Verdi is alleged to have been largely influenced by Wagner, although
most certainly he was not.
Verdi has written in all some thirty operas, which throughout are
largely imbued with characteristics of his country's opera music. This
is particularly a feature in such First period works as _Nabucco_,
_I Lombardi_, _Ernani_, _I Due Foscari_, and _Luisa Miller_. In the
Second period operas, _Rigoletto_, _La Traviata_, _Il Trovatore_, and
_Un Ballo in Maschera_, are traces of outside influence, Meyerbeer,
Auber, and Halévy being descernible despite the composer's natural
abundance of graceful melody and charming _naïveté_; an unmistakable
art-struggle suggestive of a transition process was, as we have seen,
revealed in _Simon Boccanegra_. Verdi could not but have been aware
that Weber and Spohr were investing German national opera with that
romanticism which must always be its distinguishing feature. He felt
impelled to give more character to, and to get more place for, his own
country's opera; he set about imbuing it, therefore, with a stronger
emotional element--an excess of that desperate passion characteristic
of the southern temperament. Verdi's immediate predecessors, Rossini
and others, had never left the accepted path of song after song
of luxuriant warmth, suited to the whims and vocal abilities of
this or that singer; but Verdi was to revolutionise all this. The
chorus--concerted music generally--and grand _finales_ were no longer
to suffer in order to obtain a preponderance of songs to appease the
vanity of the singers who sang them. His first attempt to do so was an
utter failure!
It was not until _Les Vêpres Siciliennes_ and _Don Carlos_ that we see
a determined _détour_ from the accepted Italian lyric-drama lines. _Don
Carlos_ was modelled after the style of French Grand opera as formed
by Rossini and Donizetti, and became Verdi-cum-Meyerbeer. The result
was a failure and a sorry mixture--something of a musical salad, the
ingredients of which formed "a poor concoction calculated to derange
the strongest musical digestion." The unadulterated Verdi, with the old
familiar _bel canto_, was far better than the adulterated one. Those
scenes where the established art-forms had been deserted in order to
give vent to orchestral painting or new combinations were unanimously
declared to be the failings of the operas.
With the important operas which have adorned the later years of Verdi's
life--his Third period works--the master has undoubtedly presented his
grandest aspect. _Aïda_, _Otello_, and _Falstaff_ are a tremendous art
advance upon anything that Verdi had accomplished before. These are
operas which will keep Italian opera alive, if that effete institution
can be preserved by mortal means. In these compositions Verdi reasserts
himself, and awakes to an altogether new and vaster sense of what
his country's opera should be, as well as what he himself could
make it. Familiarised as the public had been with _Tannhäuser_ and
_Lohengrin_, it expected, in fresh works for the stage, a more logical
and dramatic consistency. Any new Italian opera required merit as a
drama, and needed to be something more than a series of pretty tunes.
_Aïda_ was the full enunciation of Verdi's new principles. In this
work were discarded such orthodox processes as the splitting up of
the acts into recitatives, which meant a gain in dramatic action and
continuity in the play. The old-fashioned forms, the _aria d'entratà_,
the _cabaletta_, and _canzonetta_, were discontinued for less continued
melody, piecemeal tunes, lending quite a different aspect to the
complete work. The interest in the declamatory music considerably
increased, and all was so welded together that a much more satisfactory
and entertaining whole was the result. The orchestration was decidedly
new for Verdi, partaking, as it did, of the gorgeous Meyerbeer rather
than the Wagner character. There was much picture-painting both in the
abstract and the concrete. The evident intent was to paint or colour
instrumentally; to illustrate the text orchestrally, and to impart not
only geographical, but local, personal colour. This was essentially
what the world was pleased to call "Wagnerian"--hence the outcry and
the allegation that Verdi had turned "Wagnerite." The fact was, that
since writing _Don Carlos_, _Les Vêpres Siciliennes_, and _La Forza del
Destino_, Verdi had become more "Germanised," although the term must
not be taken to imply that he was less the Italian, or any the more a
copyist or impressionist. His state was owing not to Wagner's nor to
Meyerbeer's influence and model any more than to Weber's, but to the
ambition of the master himself. If Meyerbeer could employ the orchestra
slavishly and make it so important and successful a feature in the
Franco-German operatic ensemble, why should not he, Verdi, do as much
for Italian art?
_Otello_ was yet a further emphasis. When first heard in London,
musical minds immediately perceived not only a remarkable work for a
composer full of years, but also an opera which fully confirmed the
tactics advanced in _Aïda_. Another opera had brought forth another
demonstration of the composer's remarkable dramatic powers, ever
developing in each successive opera. _Otello_ was, unquestionably,
worthy to rank with _Aïda_; and performance after performance has
proved this.
As a second example of Verdi's new conceptions respecting Italian
national opera it contained much declamation, and consequently less of
that purposely lavish and luxuriant melody, for which Verdi amongst all
his contemporaries is most famous. Of so-called Wagnerian influence
there was little or none. The _leit motif_ and other fads credited to
the Bayreuth master, though not wholly his, are conspicuous by their
absence. _Otello_ stood simply a thoroughly "up-to-date" Italian opera,
a species of modern lyric drama by a great master who had seen musical
changes going on about him, and had not disregarded them. It was
natural that the Wagner cry should reach Verdi's ears; it was natural
that the Italian master should give the world a taste of how far the
new "gospel" had impressed him. Ever abreast of the times, Verdi saw
a deeper and broadening meaning overtaking the lyric drama; and,
reserving to himself the right to speak as he perceived, he published
_Aïda_. This language he again laid down in _Otello_, a splendid
outcome of latter-day genius. The same may be said of _Falstaff_. It
completes a triad of masterpieces which ought to breathe new life into
the Anglo-Italian lyric drama, if so be the decrees of fashion, and not
a dearth of operatic talent and novelty, have not already administered
the death-blow to that relic of the good old times.
It is not difficult, even if it be premature, to deliberate upon
Verdi's probable place in, and influence upon, musical art. His
labours, exemplified in such dramatic-music masterpieces as _Aïda_,
_Otello_, and _Falstaff_, prove incontestably that perfected Italian
opera, of such workmanship as these operas, crowning the later years
of their great composer's life, can be, and is, a more refined
art-production than either the most advanced or the least extravagant
of the operatic models championed by Wagner, or any other reformer of
the lyric drama.
Verdi has a young Italian school of imitators--Boito, Cortesi,
Ponchielli, Marchetti, Faccio, Pedrotti, Pinsuti, Mascagni, and
others. Can it be urged that these can, or will, take up opera as
left by Verdi? Is Italy training a school of young composers capable
of carrying on Verdi's work? The answer cannot be given in the
affirmative. Verdi is declared to have said, "I can die in peace now
that Mascagni has produced his opera." For our part, however, we remain
dubious; moreover Verdi never made such a remark.
The issue of the whole matter turns upon quite another pivot. Verdi's
labours, achievements, and successes are unquestioned; but it is the
point of the vitality of the institution--the opera-house here--which
forms the doubtful feature. Fifty years ago this luxurious appendage
of fashionable and not always well-behaved society was a necessity.
Then there was no Club-land, and the place for meeting everybody who
was anybody was the opera-house. Its "omnibus" box was crowded with
"blood," who came not to listen to the opera, but to yawn and chatter.
Then was the opera-house the resort and rendezvous of the _élite_ of
rank and fashion, when an enterprising _impresario_ was justified in
burdening himself with the unenviable task of steering the difficult
craft, assisted as he was by willing subscribers, most of whom could be
depended upon to, and did, pay ample subscriptions beforehand. Such is
not the case now. All is changed in London.
Nowadays society uses the opera fitfully, and not from a sense of
necessity; attending it when so disposed, and leaving the burden of
"ways and means" upon the manager bold enough to embark upon the
perilous enterprise. The march of time has altered the opera as it
has altered everything else, save the weather and the seasons. The
three-volume novel is out of fashion with publishers; the principles of
Christianity are being preached and practised more and more outside the
churches built for the exposition of such principles; and among other
vast changes, opera is fast declining in England and elsewhere. When
our gracious Queen was young, an able critic and _laudator temporis
acti_, lamenting the then condition of opera in general, and welcoming
Verdi to England, wrote--"A better state of things is, however, we
trust, approaching. The appearance of a composer of so much originality
of genius as Verdi heralds, it may be hoped, that of a new and more
ambitious school, whose masters will not be satisfied with tickling the
ear and pleasing the fancy, but will seek for the more permanent and
legitimate sources of effect."[80]
Nowadays people care little or nothing for the opera compared with the
old-times feelings. They are indifferent as to whether it stands or
falls. It is not thought worth while to abuse or blame a composer, as
Verdi was long journalistically treated after he came here. There are
no choreographic triumphs now. Such ballets as _Giselle_ and _Diane_,
with stars of the ballet like Taglioni, Grisi, and Cerito, have
disappeared from the opera stage for ever. A vast change has come over
operatic matters for the worse, and now that the legitimate drama is
established, and the "Variety" entertainment has caught on at the music
halls, the slow continued decline of Italian opera may reasonably, if
regretfully, be expected.
But of Verdi, apart from this unhappy prospect? Some of his early
works, like those of other composers, are getting out of date and
declining in popularity. Rarely is one of his First period works given
in England now; while of his Second period operas not one, according to
certain critics, will long hold ground. The _Trovatore_, the music of
which has traversed every known region of the globe, and would be taken
up by the masses again save for the attractions of the music halls,
is already relegated by ambitious critics to the "retired list," and
responsible censors describe _La Traviata_ as that "sickly opera,"[81]
never omitting to note the falling off in the attendance when it and
other purely Italian school operas are performed.[82] Occasionally,
however, they undoubtedly serve a purpose, as when brought forward as
the late Mr. Mapleson gave _La Traviata_ at Her Majesty's Theatre (in
the 1887 season), with Madame Patti in the title rôle, and prices were
trebled. It is fairly safe to predict that Verdi's First and Second,
or traditional period operas will all go in time, but they possess
such melodic vitality that it would not be safe to say how soon. Many
generations may yet hear them.
Verdi's Third period works, _Aïda_, _Otello_, and _Falstaff_, change
the argument. They are the greatest and grandest specimens ever
contributed to the _répertoire_ of Italian opera. In them Verdi has
reached the perfection of his art as he knows it, and has brought
the musical drama to a point which cannot consistently be passed.
It is doubtful whether another Italian composer will ever be found
to extend the national opera as left by Verdi in these matured
period works--compositions which, everything considered, are more
satisfactory, and probably more permanent, because more reasonable,
than any musical drama that has emanated from the modern German school.
These Third period works, by the illustrious Italian, will last so
long as there is a dramatic lyric stage, whether this be in England or
abroad.
Verdi must ever be remembered for the extravagant ear-taking melodies
of his early operas, which have amply justified their existence; but he
will best live musically by his Third period operas and his _Requiem_
Mass. These compositions must always furnish a glorious summit to
Verdi's pinnacle of musical fame. At the same time it will be, we
predict, many a long day before the last is heard of _Il Trovatore_ and
_Rigoletto_.
[Footnote 80: _Illustrated London News_, 5th July 1845.]
[Footnote 81: _Athenæum_, 26th May 1888.]
[Footnote 82: "The curious falling off of public interest in works
of the purely Italian school was again exemplified on Thursday last
week when _Rigoletto_ was given, the audience being much smaller than
usual."--_Athenæum_, 15th June 1889.]