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Even as Verdi was completing
La Traviata, the pressure cooker
of Italian politics was on the boil
yet again. A badly conceived attempted
coup by the republican Mazzini to overthrow
the Austrian garrison in Milan was easily
thwarted and harsh reprisals followed.
The attempt did irreparable damage to
the cause espoused by republicans such
as Verdi and others for the creation
of a united Italian Republic. The republicans
increasingly began to look towards Piedmont
and its King, Vittorio Emanuele. Based
on Turin, Piedmont was the only state
independent of Austria in northern Italy.
As such it had its own army and could
purchase arms and train troops. When
Vittorio Emanuele signed a Bill in the
Piedmont Parliament, supported by a
certain Count Cavour, to curtail the
powers of the Catholic Church in Piedmont,
monarchists and republicans began to
make common cause. It was the start
of a sequence of events that, several
years later, would impinge significantly
on the continuity of Verdi’s compositional
creativity.
Back in Busseto after
the Traviata premiere, Verdi
was in extended correspondence with
Antonio Somma, an Italian lawyer and
playwright, about an opera based on
King Lear. Somma had never written
a libretto and Verdi commissioned him
to do so, based on Shakespeare’s Lear,
much as he had done with Cammarano three
years earlier. Again the project came
to nothing as Verdi turned his mind
towards his contract with the Paris
Opéra for a five act grand opera
including a ballet. The 1830s and 1840s
were the golden age at The Opéra
under the management of Veron. The musical
pillars of the Paris establishment were
Auber, Meyerbeer and Halévy who
developed opera with greater complexity
and on a scale than had not been seen
before. Sooner or later every aspiring
Italian composer of worth wanted to
make his debut there. Verdi’s first
invitation had come in 1845, shortly
after the production of Giovanna
d’Arco when he was fully committed
in Italy; he held out for two years
before accepting a definite engagement.
Finally, he signed a contract to provide
an opera for the autumn of 1847. Verdi
followed the example of Rossini and
Donizetti in modifying an earlier work,
grafting onto it a new plot, composing
new numbers where necessary and adding
a ballet. The challenge of Paris and
its musical standards keep Verdi interested
in The Opéra, whilst Jérusalem,
a revision of I Lombardi, was
sufficiently successful to keep the
theatre management interested in the
composer. Jérusalem was
to have been followed by a completely
new work by Verdi. However, the dramatic
political upheavals in France, leading
to the Second Empire in 1848 made that
impossible, and Verdi did not return
to Paris until 1852 when, during the
gestation of Il Trovatore, he
returned to negotiate a new contract.
The Opéra were desperate for
a new grand opera to be premiered in
1855 during the Paris Exhibition of
that year. Fully aware of his own value
in the international market, Verdi drove
a hard bargain. The full resources of
the theatre were to be put at his disposal
and no other new opera was to be performed
at the theatre that year. Further, Verdi
would choose all the cast himself and
there would be forty performances guaranteed.
The composer was also to enjoy the services
of Eugène Scribe as librettist.
Scribe had been librettist for Halévy
and Meyerbeer for their ‘Grand Operas’
prepared for The Paris Opéra.
When Verdi and Strepponi
travelled to Paris in October 1853,
the scheduled date for the new opera
was more than a year and a half away,
but already there was no agreement with
Scribe as to the subject. Scribe tried
to palm Verdi off with a libretto that
had been turned down by Halévy
and later partially set to music by
the then ailing Donizetti as Le Duc
d’Albe. Even when the subject of
Les Vêpres Siciliennes,
Verdi’s 20th title, was settled,
his composition was hindered by Scribe
who persistently failed to provide Verdi
with a dramatically taut final act.
The composer demanded release from the
contract, as its terms as originally
stipulated by him had not been met.
Eventually matters were resolved and
the composer and poet reconciled their
differences with the plot being set
in Palermo, Sicily, in 1292 at the time
of the French occupation. The five act
opera, complete with ballet, was premiered
on 13 June 1855 and was well received.
It gained the approbation and admiration
of fellow composers Adolphe Adam and
Hector Berlioz; the latter’s opinion
carrying particular weight. Although
Les Vêpres Siciliennes received
more performances in the season than
the contracted number, Verdi’s first
‘Grand Opera’ had a chequered fate and
was not destined to enter the charmed
circle of Paris repertory Grand Opera
such as Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots
or Halévy’s La Juive.
Although there was a revival in Paris
in 1863, for which Verdi wrote several
new arias, it was not heard in France
in its original language after 1865.
The first Paris performances
over, Verdi organised an Italian translation,
I Vespri Siciliani, only
to discover that the subject was not
acceptable in Italian theatres. In the
first productions in Italy the location
of the action and the title were changed.
Nonetheless the opera made an auspicious
start in Italy with nine productions
in different theatres during the 1855-56
carnival season. The ballet was eventually
dropped in Italian performances. But
it was not until the liberation and
unification of Italy that either the
original French title or the equivalent
Italian was permitted.
In
the present day, the work has never
achieved great popularity in either
French or Italian, a fact represented
in the dearth of recordings. Until the
issue by Opera Rara of the original
French version of Les Vêpres
Siciliennes (review)
the work had only been heard
on record in its Italian manifestation,
I Vespri Siciliani. The Opera
Rara issue has the virtue of Francophone
singers in the person of Jaqueline Brumaire
as Hélène and Jean Bonhomme
as Henri and a strong de Montfort from
Neilson Taylor, a baritone rather surprisingly
not heard elsewhere on record. In its
Italian form the opera has fared little
better on record than its French original.
For long enough the 1974 RCA recording
featuring Placido Domingo, Sherrill
Milnes, Ruggero Raimondi and Martina
Arroyo, replacing a seriously ill Montserrat
Caballé, stood alone in the catalogue
(RCA 80370). Although all the male principals
sing well, with Raimondi a suitably
sonorous and implacable Procida, Levine’s
conducting is a little superficial and
Arroyo is not always at her best. An
EMI issue of a live La Scala performance
under Muti features Chris Merritt, Giorgio
Zancanaro and Ferruccio Furlanetto with
Cheryl Studer as Elena. Of the men only
Zancanaro matches his RCA rival, whilst
Cheryl Studer surpasses Arroyo. Muti’s
conducting of the ballet music, the
nearest Verdi ever came to symphonic
composition, is amongst the maestro’s
best efforts (EMI CDS 7 54043-2).
The La Scala performance
under Muti is available on DVD (Opus
Arte OA LS 3008 D). Giorgio Zancanaro’s
tall elegance as the French Governor,
and ruler of Sicily in Pier Luigi Pizzi’s
sparse sets, is impressive. The visual
aspects improve the impression of Ferruccio
Furlanetto’s vocally lightweight impact
as Procida; a substitute late in the
day for Paata 
Burchuladze,
who was sent packing by Muti. His tonal
colour, vocal weight and sonority have
since increased significantly. An alternative
DVD conducted by Chailly, of a performance
at Bologna in 1986, is available from
Warner (review).
This features Susan Dunn as a vocally
resplendent Elèna. Regrettably,
her acting does not match her vocal
skills whilst Leo Nucci is no visual
or vocal match for Zancanaro on the
La Scala issue. Chailly’s conducting
is first rate and contributes significantly
to the dramatic impetus of the performance.
Without doubt Les
Vêpres Siciliennes, in
whichever language, lacks the dramatic
tautness and richness of concentrated
melodic invention of its immediate predecessors.
It is possible that Verdi could not
sustain his optimum level of creativity
over five acts. Equally, the battles
he had to fight with the bureaucracy
within The Opéra, which was noted
by Berlioz, together with the lack of
professionalism of Scribe, who could
not even be bothered to attend rehearsals
to make adjustments when required, must
have had an effect on his creativity.
But the best music within the opera
is that from the pen of the mature Verdi.
Several solo arias have his distinctive
stamp, whilst the confrontations between
Governor Montfort and the rebel Henri,
who turns out to be his son, are of
the highest quality. Whilst Verdi is
renowned for his operas examining the
father-daughter relationship, Les
Vêpres Siciliennes is one
of the few in which the composer focuses
on that between father and son. Different
facets of this relationship are to be
found in his 6th opera, I
due Foscari (1844), his 11th,
I Masnadieri (1847) and 15th
Luisa Miller (1847). Montforte
is, however, the very first of Verdi’s
lonely figures of authority who have
to weigh their love of wife, grand-daughter
or son alongside their duties to the
state. Successors are Simon Boccanegra
(1857) and King Philip in Verdi’s
other Grand Opera for Paris, Don
Carlos (1864).
After the premiere
of Les Vêpres Siciliennes Verdi
did not immediately return to Busseto
in his usual way. Instead he was concerned
to safeguard his interests in England
and at the Paris Théâtre
Italien where several of his operas
had been given in pirated versions.
When he did return home in December
1855 he had no firm contract for a further
opera. Perhaps he was heeding Giuseppina’s
earlier plea not to drive himself so
hard as they had adequate resources
for their needs. However, Verdi had
purchased more land in Busseto to enlarge
his farm at Sant’Agata and was aware
that he would have to take up his compositional
pen to clear his debts. He had three
possible projects on the horizon. These
included King Lear, and possible
revisions of La battaglia di Legnano
and Stiffelio; the proposed
revision of the latter would involve
Piave, now resident stage director of
Venice’s La Fenice.
In March 1856 Verdi
travelled to Venice to witness the triumph
of La Traviata at the La Fenice,
the very stage where its premiere had
been a fiasco three years before. The
following month Piave made an extended
return visit to Busseto where Verdi
reluctantly agreed to his suggestion
to exchange the Protestant Minister
in Stiffelio into an English
crusader and add an entirely new act.
The premiere of the revision was at
first envisaged for the autumn of 1856
in Bologna. This was not to be as Verdi
signed a contract with the La Fenice
to compose an entirely new work for
the 1857 Carnival Season to a libretto
written by Piave. The title of the new
opera was to be Simon Boccanegra,
Verdi’s 21st, based like Il Trovatore
on a play by Gutiérez.
The composition of
Simon Boccanegra did not proceed
smoothly. Verdi had to go to Paris and
sue over pirated editions of his works
at the Théâtre Italien.
He lost the case, but was more than
adequately compensated by a production
of a French translation of Il Trovatore
at The Opéra. For Il Trouvère,
as it became, Verdi added the statutory
ballet music and made a number of alterations
to suit local tastes and conditions.
Meanwhile, even the ever-compliant and
uncomplaining Piave was getting desperate
over the composer’s constant delaying
of his return to Italy and Venice to
complete the orchestration of Simon
Boccanegra and supervise rehearsals.
Given the circumstances it is hardly
surprising that at the delayed premiere
of the work on 12 March 1857, Simon
Boccanegra was deemed a failure.
Some blamed the dark nature of the plot,
others the experimental nature of the
music. It was also a failure in Florence
and Milan and ten years after its composition
its fortunes reached such a low ebb
that Giulio Ricordi, the new power in
the publishing family, suggested Verdi
revise it. He did so in 1881 at the
age of 68 when he considered his composition
days over. The time between the original
and the revision was even greater than
that between the versions of Macbeth,
which had been a great success at its
premiere. The revision, which is the
form in which the opera is performed
today, was to all intents and purposes
a new opera with major alterations and
additions to the dramatic situations.
Its audio and video recordings are dealt
with in PART 4 of this conspectus.
The lyrical music of
the original, and its representation
of the Genoese setting, has its own
appeal. Gutiérez had been Spanish
Consul in Genoa and his treatment of
an episode in Genoese history struck
a chord with Verdi who made the city
his winter quarters for nearly fifty
years and bought property there. The
city streets and piazzas bear the names
made familiar by the opera, whilst the
sea setting is invoked in the introductory
music of both the 
prologue
and act 1. Once again Verdi enthusiasts
are indebted to the BBC performances
of the composer’s original thoughts
and Opera Rara’s issue of them on CD
(review).
First broadcast on New Year’s Day 1976
this performance of the original Simon
Boccanegra features Sesto Bruscantini
in the title role, André Turp
as Adorno, Josella Ligi as Maria and
the Welsh bass Gwynne Howell as Fiesco.
It is a pity that the BBC did not cast
the Yorkshire baritone Peter Glossop
as Boccanegra as they did in the title
role of their Macbeth and as
Don Carlo in the original version
of La Forza del Destino. Bruscantini,
justifiably well known for his buffa
interpretations, has not the ideal heft
or colour for the more dramatic scenes
in Simon Boccanegra. John Matheson
is a lyrical and idiomatic conductor.
With Boccanegra
and the Parisian lawsuits out of
the way, Verdi and Piave turned their
minds again to the revision of Stiffelio.
The premiere was scheduled for 16 August
1857 to open the new opera house in
Rimini, the Teatro Nuovo. As well as
having Verdi to direct the production,
and Piave to stage it, the performances
were to have the benefit of a professional
conductor in the person of Angelo Mariani
who was rapidly establishing himself
as primo in this newly emerging
profession. Mariani’s presence enabled
Verdi to write three sophisticated choruses,
with elaborate part-writing, for new
last act. This act, set on the shores
of Loch Lomond in Scotland, is entirely
new and bears no relationship with the
equivalent scene in Stiffelio.
Well used to crusaders and the like
in the operas of Rossini and Donizetti,
and without the complications of a married
clergyman, Aroldo Verdi’s
22nd opera was a success. Much of the
writing is Verdi 1857 vintage. With
five other operas behind him since the
composition of Stiffelio, at
every comparable point between the two
works, except perhaps for the opening
scene of Stiffelio, the later
Aroldo is superior.
Aroldo reached
Vienna, Lisbon, Buenos Aires and New
York and survived in Italy until the
turn of the century. It has since become,
together with Alzira, the least
performed of all Verdi’s operas. The
rediscovery of the more dramatically
vibrant and cohesive Stiffelio,
although musically inferior, will do
nothing to change this situation. For
over twenty years Aroldo was
represented in the catalogue by an April
1979 live performance given in New York’s
Carnegie Hall with Eve Queler conducting.
This features Montserrat Caballé
as an impressive Mina. The role is more
dramatic than Lina in Stiffelio and
her entry is electric. A particular
vocal highlight from Caballé
is the opening scene of act 2, which
she had included on her 1967 LP titled
Verdi Rarities, a particular
favourite of mine and since issued on
CD. The male cast are adequate but not
as impressive as the diva herself whilst
the sound has its rough patches (M2K
79328).
To mark the centenary
of the composer’s death in 2001, and
presumably to bring their early Verdi
opera series to a conclusion, Philips
issued studio recordings of both Alzira
and Aroldo. Fabio Luisi conducts
both with an ease of Verdian style that
matches Lamberto Gardelli on the original
early Verdi series from the label, with
perhaps a touch more dramatic bite that
is wholly appropriate in Aroldo.
What is also appropriate in view of
the choruses that Verdi added to the
final act is the use of Italian choral
forces, those from Florence’s Maggio
Musicale. Recorded in December 1997
the principal soloists, Carol Vaness
as Mina, Neil Shicoff as Aroldo, Anthony
Michaels-Moore as Egberto and Roberto
Scandiuzzi as the hermit Briano are
of uniformly good standard. Vaness might
not have the vocal élan or mezza
voce steadiness of Caballé,
but her fuller tone and colour are used
to good effect. If the male soloists
do not erase memories of Bergonzi, Cappuccilli
and
Raimondi that is to hearken back to
Verdi singers who bestrode the fach
a generation before this recording was
made. Sufficient that the singers do
justice to Verdi’s neglected music as
does the recording, which is far superior
to the earlier issue. A colleague’s
review can be found here.
With all other business
out of the way, Verdi turned his mind
to the contract he had signed with the
San Carlo in Naples. This was for an
un-named opera for the 1857-1858 Carnival
Season. Somma had completed the libretto
of King Lear and if the right
cast could be assembled this was the
intended subject. Verdi considered Marietta
Piccolomini ideal for Cordelia as he
imagined the role, and whilst in Paris
had broached the issue with the singer.
She was enthusiastic, but Verdi drew
back and she sought work elsewhere.
The composer used her non-availability
in Naples as an excuse to drop the subject
of King Lear. Five years before
his death, when he offered all his material
on the subject to Mascagni, Verdi admitted
to the younger man that the scene
in which King Lear finds himself on
the heath terrified me. Perhaps
Verdi, even with his genius, had self-doubts
as to whether he could put on paper
that scene and the totality of the musical
drama that was in his mind. A King
Lear from Verdi, a project that
occupied much of his thoughts in the
1850s, was never to be.
Verdi failed to meet
his June 1857 contract date with the
San Carlo to provide a synopsis of the
chosen plot. He also rebuffed their
blandishment that whereas he might find
a better Cordelia their contracted baritone,
tenor and bass were of the highest class
for a King Lear. By the September
the theatre management were getting
restive and turned down suggestions
for Verdi to personally supervise and
direct a revival of Aroldo, Boccanegra
or an amended La Battaglia del
Legnano as an alternative. The theatre
did not consider these proposals to
be a fulfilment of his contract and
Verdi hurriedly cast around for another
subject. He considered Victor Hugo’s
Ruy Blas but with time pressing
he settled on an adaptation of an existing
five-act libretto by none other than
Eugène Scribe. Auber had already
set this to music five years before
for the Paris Opéra with the
title Gustave III, où Le Bal
Masque. It was a subject that had
tempted Bellini and like many of Scribe’s
libretti was based on an actual historical
event, the assassination in 1792 of
Gustavus III of Sweden at a masked ball
in the Stockholm opera house. To explain
the event Scribe had added a fictitious
love affair between the King and the
wife of his secretary. Given contemporary
events in Italy and Europe, and that
Naples was part of a kingdom; Verdi
was not surprised that the local censors
demanded a change of locale. But they
demanded much more besides, including
transfer to a pre-Christain age. Verdi
accepted a change of location, and the
King to become a Duke, but he insisted
on a period such as that of Louis XVI’s
court. These accepted changes were submitted
to the censor when Verdi arrived in
Naples in January 1858. Any chance of
their acceptance went with the news
of Felice Orsini’s attempt on the life
of Napoleon III of France in Paris on
13 January. The Naples Chief of Police
ruled that the opera text would have
to be re-written in its entirety to
preclude any dancing on stage and the
murder must be off-stage.
In the ensuing impasse
the San Carlo management decided another
poet would re-set the opera to an entirely
new libretto meeting all the local legal
and censorial requirements. Verdi refused
to have anything to do with the new
libretto and the San Carlo sued him
for breach of contract. Verdi counterclaimed
for damages and had much popular support
in Naples. The case was settled out
of court with the theatre management
charges dropped on condition that Verdi
returned in the autumn to present a
revival of Simon Boccanegra.
During the legal brouhaha Verdi cast
around for an alternative theatre for
his opera and noted that a play titled
Gustavus III had been given in
Rome. He initiated secret negotiations
with impresario Jacovacci to premiere
his opera Un Ballo in Maschera,
his 23rd opera, in that city subject
to the approval of the Papal Censor.
After some prevarication the censors
agreed to accept the principles of the
plot and the action, provided the location
was removed from Europe to North America
at the time of the English domination.
In this revised scenario Gustavus became
Riccardo Earl of Warwick, Governor of
Boston, whilst his secretary became
Renato, a Creole. Un Ballo in Maschera
was premiered at the Teatro Apollo,
Rome, on 17 February 1859 to wide acclaim.
Of all Verdi operas
Un Ballo in Maschera is the one
most concerned with love and conjugal
faithfulness although the theme does
also run through the later Don Carlos.
No love duet in all Verdi matches that
of Riccardo and Amelia in act 2 of the
opera as he goes to meet her at the
gallows field where she has gone to
pick the herb to cure her of the illicit
love. The role of Riccardo is a dream
for a lyric tenor with good legato,
a touch of heft and capacity for vocal
brio. It requires a greater degree of
vocal elegance than the Duke in Rigoletto
whilst also requiring the singer
to express the frivolousness of the
role’s character which is so clearly
expressed in the music. Amelia, the
object of Riccardo’s love, requires
a lyrico-spinto soprano who can match
the tenor for ardent phrasing in the
act 2 love duet, cut through the textures
and soar above the orchestra in the
preceding aria. It is a role that has
appealed to some admired singers of
Brünnhilde. Add a baritone part
with both a lyrically expressive and
a dramatically vehement aria, and a
low mezzo or contralto as the gypsy
fortune-teller, and Caruso’s claims
for Il Trovatore begin to sound
tame. But Verdi was not satisfied with
a quartet of principals; his vision
included that for a leggiero-soprano
for the role of Riccardo’s page, Oscar.
Oscar has a vital part to play in the
evolution of the plot. The role requires
a light voice of vivacity and lilting
musicality and, in a stage production,
visual as well as vocal pertness.
Fortunately for the
recorded legacy, Un Ballo in Maschera’s
consummate melodic music so illuminates
the plot that the work has appealed
to conductors and singers alike, all
keen to set down their interpretations
for posterity. The leading opera conductors
of the post-Second World War period
have taken their interpretation into
the studio at least once, as have the
leading tenors with the notable exception
of Jussi Björling. Enthusiasts
who wish to hear his interpretation
of a role that suited his voice have
to tolerate the acoustics of live performance
from the Met in 1940 which has appeared
from various sources from time to time.
The earliest studio recording to make
waves was focused on the soprano Maria
Callas rather than her tenor partner
Giuseppe Di Stefano. Recorded in 1956
it was the last of five Verdi roles
she recorded in the studio for the Columbia
label, now part of EMI Classics. Like
her recordings of Aida, and the
Il Trovatore and Forza del
Destino Leonoras, it shows her voice
to be really a size too small and vocally
inconsistent in the spinto aspect
of these roles. That she could, and
did, inflect insights into the facets
and dilemmas of the characters she was
portraying is indisputable and views
of these virtues over vocal drawbacks
must be personal (EMI 7243 5563200).
Callas also features alongside Di Stefano
as Riccardo in a live performance under
Gavazenni recorded the following year.
Her performance on this recording has
many admirers (EMI 567918 2). Decca
went into the studio to record their
first stereo set in 1962 with their
Wagner duo of Solti on the rostrum and
Birgit Nilsson, their Ring Brünnhilde,
more Wagnerian than Verdian, as Amelia.
Solti drives the drama far too hard
and the only virtues of the recording
are the immaculate singing of Bergonzi
as Riccardo and Cornell MacNeil’s Renato.
Fortunately, Bergonzi recorded the role
a second time in 1966 for RCA alongside
Leontyne Price, the Verdi lyrico-spinto
of her generation, as Amelia. Robert
Merrill is strong as Renato, Shirley
Verrett musical and characterful as
Ulrica the gypsy and Reri Grist pert
as Oscar. Although Leinsdorf isn’t the
Verdian of ones dreams and the recording
not of Decca’s standard, this remains
my favourite audio version (RCA GD86645).
Of the three later
generation tenors, all recorded the
tenor lead in Un Ballo in Maschera.
Pavarotti twice recorded Riccardo, a
role that suits his voice and character
well. His 1970 recording features Renata
Tebaldi, rather past her best as Amelia,
Sherrill Milnes a strong Renato with
Bartoletti, a sympathetic Verdian conducting
(Double Decca 460 762-2). His second,
in 1982, has Margaret Price as a very
graceful Amelia and Renato Bruson a
characterful secretary all conducted
by Solti who shows more signs of sympathy
to the composer than his earlier self.
The problem casting of Christa Ludwig
as Ulrica and the obvious dubbing on
of Bruson’s contribution are drawbacks
to an otherwise well recorded and enjoyable
version. Domingo's three recordings
all find the great tenor in good voice.
In the first (1984) he is partnered
by the excellent duo of a strong-voiced
Martina Arroyo and a resonant Pierro
Cappuccilli. The conductor, Ricardo
Muti, then supremo of La Scala, hurries
the proceedings along rather too fast
at times, losing some of the lovely
lyricism of the piece albeit gaining
dramatic intensity (EMI CMS 5 66510
2). The recording quality of the EMI
set is far superior to that found on
Domingo's more sensitively sung second
version for DG, conducted by that fine
Verdian Claudio Abbado. The Amelia of
Ricciarelli is one of her best recordings
whilst Bruson’s Renato is vocally expressive.
If the occluded ill-balanced recording
were not enough of a drawback, the casting
of the Russian Obraztsova as Ulrica
and Edita Gruberova as Oscar are serious
misjudgements (DG Double 453 148 2).
Domingo’s best audio interpretation
and singing of the role of Riccardo
is to be found on the 1989 recording
under Karajan. However, neither the
Amelia of Josephine Barstow nor the
Renato of Leo Nucci lies easily on my
ear (DG 477 5641). Whilst José
Carreras is often considered the weakest
of the three tenors, he is by no means
over-parted as Riccardo. Montserrat
Caballé, whose expressive singing
is commendable, partners Carreras, although
an ideal duo in bel canto she
lacks the ultimate in vocal heft for
a fully convincing portrayal of Verdi’s
Amelia. Ingvar Wixell as Renato is rather
lacking in warm Italianate tone and
to cap all Colin Davis’s conducting
lacks any feel for Verdi and at times
borders on the turgid (Philips 'Duo'
456 316-2). The Teldec recording of
1995 has only the Orchestra and Chorus
of Welsh National Opera, the 
conducting
of Carlo Rizzi and the Renato of Vladimir
Chernov to commend it. For those who
heard Rizzi when he conducted the Welsh
National Opera production in 1992, and
who want an example of his work, the
highlights issue of the Teldec recording
has been issued on Warner Apex 2564
61504-2 (review)
As to DVD, at the time
of writing two early 1990s recordings
have dominated the market. The first
features John Schlesinger’s 1990 Salzburg
production. This was to have been conducted
by Karajan as on the audio recording
from DG featured above but he died during
rehearsals. Solti, who had been persona
non grata 
during
Karajan’s reign at Salzburg, very benevolently
took over and saved the day. Thesets
by William Dudley are evocative and
sumptuous and move the action back to
Sweden. Solti was a more sympathetic
Verdian by this date than his earlier
self and with Barstow giving a well-acted
performance and singing far better than
on the audio recording this is a version
worth considering (review).
A 1991 recording from
the Metropolitan Opera, New York features
Piero Faggioni’s traditional production.
Again set in 
Sweden
it matches that at Salzburg for opulence.
Brian Large directs both performances
for video. The Met cast of Pavarotti
as an elegantly phrased Gustavus, Aprile
Millo as a strong-voiced and well characterised
Amelia and Harolyn Blackwell a pert
Oscar are good Verdian portrayals. As
at Salzburg, Florence Quivar is a firm
Ulrica and Nucci a not very impressive
secretary vocally or visually. Levine
is a little heavy-handed with the orchestra
at times and often misses out the joy
of the lilting melodies (review).
Both the above detailed reviews are
by colleagues. A more recent, and less
traditional production from Leipzig
in 2005 has idiomatic conducting from
Riccardo Chailly. Although the singing
is never less than adequate it is not
of the standard of that at Salzburg
or the Met (review).
As yet I have seen no sign of either
of two earlier Pavarotti performances
that exist in video form appearing on
DVD. The first, from 1980 and recorded
by Unitel from the Met, has the tenor
alongside Ricciarelli in Elijah Moshinsky’s
production with sets by Peter Wexler.
He is in lighter, more flexible and
elegant voice than the 1991 recording
whilst Giuseppe Patané on the
rostrum is more sympathetic to his singers
than Levine in 1991. Pavarotti appears
again in Abbado’s 1986 performance from
Vienna that marked his taking on the
Music Directorship of the Vienna State
Orchestra. The production by Gianfranco
De Bosio has Pavarotti alongside Gabriele
Lechner as Amelia and other members
of the Vienna Company with Cappuccilli
guesting as Renato.
After the premiere
of Un Ballo in Maschera with
no contracts pressing and with their
accommodation booked until the end of
the Carnival Season, Verdi and Giuseppina
did not immediately return to Busseto.
Verdi was made an honorary member of
the Accademia Filharmonica Romana and
the Rome impresario, Jacovacci, attempted
to persuade him to sign a contract for
a new opera. Verdi was 46 years old
and had composed twenty-three operas
in the previous twenty years. Although
engaged in litigation in Naples he had
not really composed for nearly a year.
He announced to a small circle of friends,
including Jacovacci, that he had given
up composing and intended to return
to his farm and enjoy the fruits of
his labours in a more relaxed manner.
But Italian politics, which had not
languished during Verdi’s Naples fiasco,
were to make demands on his time and
also to help, inadvertently, to tempt
him to compose opera once more.
Piedmont and its King
were seen in England and elsewhere as
the only realistic hope for a united
Italy. Cavour, playing a longer game
than many appreciated visited Napoleon
in France. Some wondered as to Cavour’s
strategy, after all France had supported
the return of the Pope to Rome when
Italian hopes of unification had been
on the agenda ten years before. His
visit resulted in a treaty by which
France would go to the aid of Piedmont
in the event of Austrian aggression.
Napoleon did not give the assurance
out of altruism. There would be a pay
back in the future. In the meantime
Piedmont rapidly rearmed as hundreds
of volunteers entered the Kingdom and
Cavour sought to provoke Austria to
attack. Austria issued an ultimatum
that France considered an aggressive
act and French troops were despatched.
War technically started on 26 April
1859. Gounod’s Faust had been
premiered in Paris a month before. The
battle of Magenta was followed by that
of Solferino on 24 June, involving three
hundred and ten thousand men. Neither
battle was decisive but there were popular
demonstrations in favour of Napoleon
and Vittorio Emmanuele in many towns
and states. An armistice and then a
treaty between France and Austria, that
Cavour considered half a loaf, was signed.
Piedmont had little say in the matter
and Cavour resigned. Whether concerned
about the dangers from war, the political
uncertainties or for other reasons,
Verdi and Giuseppina were married secretly
on 29 August in the Piedmontese village
of Collonges-sous-Saléve, near
the Swiss border of the province of
Savoy.
In August, Verdi’s
home state, The Duchy of Parma, had
voted first to join with neighbouring
Modena and then Piedmont. Verdi was
elected to the Assembly in Parma that
ratified the vote on 15 September and
he went to Turin, as part
of a delegation, to meet Vittorio Emmanuele
with the petition. He also visited Cavour,
in retirement on his estate. The statesman
was recalled by Vittorio Emmanuele and
manoeuvred Napoleon’s non-intervention
while Piedmont merged Northern and Central
Italy into one state. The pay back to
Napoleon was the ceding to France of
the provinces of French-speaking Savoy
and Nice. Garibaldi, although an ardent
Republican, determined that Italy would
be wholly united and with a small body
of men began fighting in Sicily before
marching, with an ever-increasing army,
to Naples whilst proclaiming he would
go on to Rome and make it the capital
of a united Italy. Afraid of Garibaldi’s
republicanism Piedmont, with French
approval, annexed some Papal States.
Garibaldi, in an act of altruism, although
not without rancour, ceded his conquests
to the unification refusing any honour
or reward. Although still without Papal
Rome and occupied Venice Cavour called
for elections to a National Parliament.
At Cavour’s personal insistence that
his presence, as a pre-eminent Italian,
would bring lustre to the Parliament’s
proceedings, Verdi stood and was elected
as a Deputy. With his estate to manage
and Parliamentary duties in Turin, opera
composition was, in the immediate future,
very much on the back-burner. But Verdi
was to live for another forty years
and if circumstances, situation and
not least the fee were to his liking,
he would be tempted to the theatre again.
The resultant five new operas, two major
revisions and the great Requiem are
covered in part four of this survey
of Verdi’s life and operatic works.
Robert J Farr
Part
1 Part
2 Part
3 Part 4
