That Verdi is one of the most popular opera composers of his time must be freely conceded. That he is a great musician in any exacting sense of the word cannot be so readily granted. He has been in no sense an innovator, and as far as his influence on opera is concerned, he leaves it where he found it, except inasmuch as he has followed the changes that the musical development of his time has made in every branch of the art. He has not been an epoch-maker in opera, as was Rossini, and in nothing that he has written has he made such an impression on his contemporaries in opera as was made by the "La Sonnambula" and the "Norma" of Bellini, and the "Lucia di Lammermoor" and the "La Favorita" of Donizetti. As it seems to us, he was the logical outgrowth of the latter, as Donizetti was of Bellini, as Bellini was of Rossini, and as Rossini was of the finales of "Il Nozze di Figaro." Gifted with an inexhaustive fund of melody, and a strong feeling for dramatic effect, he trusted to these gifts without paying especial heed to any philosophical principle on which operas should be composed, and appealed to the nerves and the ephemeral emotions of his public, rather than to its heart or its intelligence, for its plaudits. The immense vogue he has won, not only in his own country but in every land where a taste for opera is cultivated, shows that this form of appeal was not made in vain. Nevertheless, the twenty-seven operas which form the great bulk of his musical life-work, in spite of their wealth and variety of melody, the extraordinary resources of invention they exemplify in their composer, and the fluent skill exhibited by him in saying the same thing in an infinite number of ways, do not present anything of the highest order, even in their kind. Not one of these operas is great in the sense that Rossini's "Il Barbiere di Seviglia" is great, or in the sense that the first act and the meeting of the cantons in the same master's "William Tell" are great. There are beauties innumerable in them, but they do not lie deeper than the surface. They are affluent in inspiration of a certain order, but it is the inspiration of a prolific tune-maker, with an instinct for opera writing, and without any very high musicianship or any very sincere artistic feeling. More spontaneous, perhaps, than Meyerbeer, in the invention of melody, he has never risen to the height of the magnificent duet between Raoul and Valentine, in the fourth act of "Les Huguenots," and the fine trio in the last act of "Robert le Diable."

Fac-simile musical manuscript written by Verdi.

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We have said that Verdi was the logical outgrowth of Donizetti. It would be more exact to say that, up to the time that "Aïda" appeared, he continued to follow in the same path as that trodden by the composer of "Lucia." The latter, after all, had a certain originality, inasmuch as his operas were, in many distinctive ways, different from those of any of his predecessors; though it may, with some show of justice, be claimed that the "I Puritani" of Bellini provided him with his model. The difference between Bellini and Donizetti, however, is far greater than is that between Donizetti and Verdi, though there is a marked family resemblance between all three, as far as conventional forms are concerned. Until quite recently, however, these forms were the monotonous characteristics of Italian opera. In saying this we do not mean that the operas of this school are not in harmony with the views that have of late prevailed regarding the absurdity of this form or the propriety of that form of opera: in other words, that Italian opera, with its cabballettas, duets, quartets, and its scenas, consisting of a recitative, an andante, and a brilliant allegro, its adherence to flowing melody and to tunefulness generally is wrong in principle, as opposed to that form of opera or music-drama advocated by Wagner and his followers, which, it is claimed, is more natural and more logical. When the characters in a drama, instead of speaking, resort to singing in order to express themselves, whether they do it according to the methods of Wagner or the methods of Verdi, the absurdity is equally great. Ortrud giving vent to her hate in song is no less untrue to nature than is Azucena. There is no more truth, no more logic, in the "endless melodies" of Wagner than there is in the regularly formed and terminable melodies of Verdi. The opera music of Wagner, when performed by an orchestra without the assistance of voices, says no more than does the music of Verdi given under the same conditions, except that the latter is more intelligible as music pure and simple. We do not intend to draw any comparison between the respective qualities of the music of these composers, but we insist that no one who hears the music of either master for the first time, as mere instrumental music, can tell what it is intended to express on the stage. Hence it is folly to urge that the opera music of any school expresses more than that of another. It is folly to speak of nature in connection with the emotions of love, hate, hope, despair, joy and woe, when sung by actors to the accompaniment of an orchestra. The only logic that can enter into so illogical a process is that which, having conceded that song may take the place of speech, concedes all the rest. The opera composer should not be judged by any other canon of art than that which he has followed in writing his work; and when Wagner's Tristan sings his love according to the composer's idea of musical and dramatic propriety, he is no less ridiculous, per se, than is Verdi's Ernani in the like situation. The composer who creates the precise impression that he strives to create by the music he places in the mouths of his characters is the composer who has made all that can be made of his art, whether he be Wagner or Verdi. It is not the way in which it is done, but it is the result achieved, that is to be considered. That the two masters will express the same sentiment by methods directly contrary is nothing to the point. The effect is all that is of importance, and it is in the power of nobody to prove that the one method is right and the other wrong, or to impress greater propriety on the one than on the other, except arbitrarily and irresponsibly.