He replied, "Leave me entirely out of the question."
This he said to me twenty-two years ago in my studio in the Candeli, and Verdi has not yet composed a comic or semi-serious opera, nor do I believe that he has ever thought of doing so; and in this he has been quite right. The musical art and Italy wait for a 'Cain' from him, and they wait for it because he himself felt the will and the power to create it.
I remember also another judgment and another expression of Rossini's in regard to Verdi. One evening after dinner I stayed on with him, because he liked to have a little talk. He was walking slowly up and down the dining-room, for he did not like to leave the room, the unpleasant odour which remains after dinner giving him apparently no annoyance. The Signora Olimpia, his wife, was playing a game of cards called minchiate with one of the regular friends of the house—I mean one of those inevitable sticks that old ladies make use of to amuse them and help them to pass the time at cards.
ROSSINI ON VERDI.
Some one always arrived late, but Rossini would not see everybody. This evening, if I mistake not, came the Signora Varese, Signor de Luigi, and others whom I did not know; then two youths, who apparently were music-masters, and they, after saluting the Signora, turned to Rossini with these words: "Have you heard, Signor Maestro, the criticism of Scudo on the new opera of Verdi, 'I Vespri Siciliani,' which has just been given in Paris?"
"No," answered Rossini, rather seriously.
"A regular criticism, you know; you should read it. It is in the last number of the 'Revue des Deux Mondes.'" And then they began to repeat some of these opinions of Scudo's, with adulation, which, if courteous, was little praiseworthy. But Rossini interrupted them, saying—
"They make me laugh when they criticise Verdi in this way, and with such a pen! To write an able and true criticism of him, requires higher capacity and an abler pen. In my opinion, this would require two Italian composers of music who could write better than he does himself; but as these Italian musical composers who are superior to Verdi are yet to come, we must content ourselves with his music, applaud him when he does well," and here he clapped his hands, "and warn him in a fraternal way when we think he could have done better." As he finished these words he seemed a little heated, and almost offended, as if he thought that these people had come to give him this news by way of flattering him, or in order to have the violent criticism of Scudo confirmed. The fact is, he must have already read the criticism itself, as I had seen the number of the 'Revue' on his table before dinner. The conversation then changed, and nothing more was said.
VISIT OF THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.
About this time the Emperor of Russia, who was passing through Florence, honoured me with a visit. I should have passed over in silence this fact; but as it was the occasion of a false impression, by which I appeared to be the most stupid and ignorant man in the world, it is better that I should narrate exactly what occurred. Signor Mariotti, the agent for the Russian Imperial household, who, the reader may remember, had procured for me the commission for the marble of Abel, sent me word that during the day the Emperor would come to see the Cain, which was already finished in marble. I waited for him all day; but towards evening, an hour before nightfall, I dressed myself to go away, not believing that any one would come at that hour. Just as I was going out I heard a disturbance, a noise of carriages and horses, and saw the Emperor stopping at my studio. It was nearly dark, so, with a stout heart, before he descended I went to the door of the carriage and said—