Verdi's reputation began to spread after "Nabucco"; it increased with "I Lombardi" and was established firmly by "Ernani." In all these works, affluence of melody and rhythmical variety are conspicuous. In none of them is there any profound musicianship. They suggest brilliant improvisation rather than deep thought. In certain portions of the scores of "I Lombardi" and "Ernani" there is vigorous dramatic color, but it is of the perfunctory type made familiar by Donizetti. The orchestration is conventional, and orchestral color is rarely sought except by violent contrasts. The overture to "Nabucco" is one of the few works in this kind that the composer has attempted. It is made up of melodies from the opera, put together with no special skill, and, though effective after a noisy fashion, is of no musical value. It is the best of his overtures, but in common with the others, is wholly barren of thematic development. In this purely instrumental branch of his art he has written nothing as good as Donizetti's overture to "La Fille du Regiment," in respect to form, instrumentation, and musicianship generally. His overtures to "Giovanna d'Arco," "Les Vêpres Sicilliennes," "Aroldo" and "La Forza del Destino," though tuneful and effective in their way, are without any merit on which we need dwell.
BUST OF VERDI.
From a photograph at the Paris Opera Library.
Verdi did not attain to fame without meeting with opposition. It was claimed that he was over-noisy, a charge not wholly without foundation, notably in his "I Due Foscari" which succeeded "Ernani," and in which the predominance of the brass wind instruments, a novelty then, was almost overpowering. Then, too, it was charged that his music, if it should be sung much, would ruin the voices of the singers, so addicted was he to write for them in their highest register. It was not until "Rigoletto" appeared that his instrumentation showed any marked care, or that he seemed to be impressed by the variety of effects that could be produced by a judicious use of the wood wind. In Gilda's air, Caro nomo, the scoring is delightful in its grace, delicacy and charmingly contrasted coloring. In the last act of this opera, too, is the famous quartet, in which are so felicitously mingled impassioned love, mirth, suspense and vengefulness,—the best thing in its kind that had appeared since the sextet in "Lucia" and the trio in "Lucrezia Borgia," and which was soon to be followed by the more popular but less artistic Miserere in "Il Trovatore." It is true that he had written the stirring and effective Carlo Magno finale to one of the acts of his "Ernani," and that it attained to immense popular favor; but the "Rigoletto" quartet is the most brilliant and most musicianly of all his efforts in its kind. "Rigoletto," which was composed in forty days, has outlived the sixteen operas that preceded it, and its wealth of melody and its powerful dramatic effects, cause it to be listened to still with much of the pleasure and interest that attended its first production forty-two years ago. It is one of the works in which the composer will live.
In "Il Trovatore" Verdi made another stride in advance. During the two years that passed between the production of "Rigoletto" and that of "Il Trovatore," a great change had taken place in his style. There is observable in the score of the later opera a larger variety in his harmonies, and the basses move more independently and more fluently. The accompaniments are less perfunctory, and are given a more artistic taste than that of merely emphasizing the rhythms in a conventional way. The instrumentation is richer, the parts often move more freely, and the general effect is more serious and impressive; while the varieties of tone-color are more affluent than in any of the composer's earlier scores. In other respects, notwithstanding the popularity of the opera, we do not think it is superior to "Rigoletto." On the contrary, it seems to us to lack something of the artistic dignity that pertains to its immediate predecessor. It is overfull of mere tune-making that does not fairly echo the dramatic sentiment of the situations on which it is expended. In "Rigoletto," Verdi seems to have escaped wholly from the influence of Donizetti. In "Il Trovatore" the methods of Donizetti are constantly recalled, and the opera seems cast in the same mould as "Lucrezia Borgia." The music given to Azucena, graceful and ear-pleasing as it is, for the most part appears trivial and frivolous when it is considered in relation to the passion it is intended to emphasize. Still, forty years after its birth it remains one of the most popular operas on the stage, even in Germany. "La Traviata" overflows with exquisite melodies, but here the composer has been more successful in wedding sound to sense. His theme was sentimental rather than dramatic, and the sensuous tunes harmonized well with the spirit of the text. Elegance, refinement and warmth of style characterize the score throughout, and the proprieties are not violated except in the vulgar air, Di provenza, the music of which, to say nothing of its reiteration of the same rhythmical phrase bar after bar, is ridiculously inappropriate to the sentiment of the situation. "Les Vêpres Sicilliennes" showed no further change in the composer's methods, and the same may be said of "Un ballo in Maschera," "La Forza del Destino" and "Don Carlos." There are fine dramatic and instrumental moments in all these works, but in none of them is there any advance beyond "Rigoletto." Moreover, there are many lapses back to the composer's "Ernani" period. He was not yet able or willing to break wholly with the past. It is true that he continued to give more and more care to those portions of his score that dealt with the action of the drama, instead of bestowing attention on the composition of catching melodies and ensembles, to the neglect of the intermediate parts. In his "Simon Boccanegra," however, which succeeded "Les Vêpres Sicilliennes," he gave the first impressive indication of his sympathy with the more modern school of opera that existed outside of Italy; and in this work he essayed a more declamatory recitative, a deeper regard for tone-color, and a more serious devotion to the dramatic sentiment of the scene and action, and less to the mere formal aria. In other words, Verdi became, to some extent, a revolutionist in his art, and was the first Italian master to recognize what was going on in the world of opera beyond the confines of his own country. The work in which this cry of progress was sounded met with complete failure, and for a time he returned to the old order of things, or else approached the new with faint-heartedness. When, after four years' silence, he was heard again, he was boldly and unequivocally an advocate of the new movement, as "Aïda" amply testifies. Here he abandons, for good and all, the conventional forms to which he had so long adhered. He has considered his libretto as a whole, and not as so many opportunities for tune-making; he has attempted to maintain a proper and uniform local color—has tried to create the impression of an unbroken and self-consistent dramatic entirety; he has essayed to impart as much interest to the recitatives, and to the more declamatory aspects of his score, as to the more purely melodious. The melody flows on with the familiar fluency, but it is tempered by dignity. The orchestra looms into primary importance as part of a logical whole, instead of remaining the mere accompaniment, more or less artistic, that it is in the composer's other scores. It is Verdi still, but a Verdi matured in style and fully ripened in artistic judgment,—a Verdi thoroughly awake, for the first time, to the fact that the horizon of art is bounded only by the height from which it is viewed.
CARICATURE OF VERDI BY DANTAN.