Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
A conspectus of his
life and a review of the audio and video
recordings of his works - Robert Farr
PART
1. Verdi's
background, getting established and
first five operas from Oberto
(1839) to Ernani (1844)
PART 2.
Verdi’s ‘anni de galera’ (galley years).
The ten operas from I due
Foscari (1844) to Luisa Miller
(1849)
Forthcoming:
PART
3. Verdi’s middle period.
The eight operas from Stiffelio (1850)
to Un ballo in Maschera (1859)
PART
4. Verdi’s great final
operas from La Forza del Destino
(1862) to Falstaff (1893) and
including the revisions of Macbeth
and Simon Boccanegra. Also
appendices covering The Requiem, collections
of arias, overtures and choruses.
PART 2.
Verdi’s ‘anni de galera’ (galley
years). The ten operas from
I due Foscari (1844) to Luisa
Miller (1849)
With five operas under his belt, including
the failure of Un giorno di Regno,
Verdi was in demand throughout Italy.
Despite the modest success in Venice
of his fifth opera, Ernani, it
was acclaimed in Vienna and at La Scala
in 1844 leading to increased demand
on the composer to supervise revivals
or write operas for other theatres.
Even before the premiere of Ernani,
Verdi was in negotiation with other
opera houses in Italy. For Merelli,
impresario of La Scala, he agreed to
write Giovanna D’Arco. For the
San Carlo at Naples he contracted to
write Alzira. He was also discussing
the subject of Attila with Piave,
his librettist, and had sent him an
outline to versify. These operas, and
the half dozen or so that followed,
were all written quickly and with the
composer under great pressure. This
was the period Verdi referred to as
his anni de gallera, his years
in the galleys when he was always racing
against time. Whilst composing one opera,
he was planning the subjects of others
and supervising, often in minute detail,
the writing of the librettos of another
one or two. Added to those pressures
were negotiations with impresarios and
publishers for operas to follow.
On his return to Milan after the Venice
production of Ernani Verdi’s
first task was to agree a subject for
production as the customary new opera
at the forthcoming season at the Teatro
Argentina in Rome and for which he was
again contracted. He suggested an opera
on ‘Lorenzino de Medici’. The censors
objected and Verdi turned to the subject
of I due Foscari (The two
Foscari) which he had considered
for Venice but had been warned off;
the Venetians only liked good news stories
about their city. I due Foscari
is based on Byron’s play, one
of the first to investigate the dark
and repressive side of Venice, a city
that was so often portrayed as a carnival
town. The subject appealed to Verdi
as ‘a fine subject, delicate and
full of pathos’ whilst he also recognised
its theatrical limitations The story
was acceptable to the censors in Rome
and the composer set to work on the
music whilst constantly bullying Piave
for changes in his verses for others
that he considered would have greater
theatrical effect or dramatic bite.
Ever willing, Piave who also been instructed
by Verdi to keep close to Byron, resorted
to false and somewhat repetitive coups
de theatre. In later years Verdi described
I due Foscari as ‘being
too monotonous and inclined to harp
on one string’.
As so often in this period, when subjected
to the pressures of time and the demands
of creativity, Verdi was afflicted by
psychosomatic symptoms. He complained
of headaches, stomach pains and of a
continuous sore throat. Even a break
in Busseto failed to cure him. Despite
these tribulations the opera was completed
except for orchestration by the end
of September 1844. Verdi spent October
in Rome orchestrating the score and
rehearsing the work. I due Foscari,
Verdi’s 6th opera
was premiered to acclaim with the composer
conducting on 3 November. On the second
night Verdi himself took over thirty
curtain calls!
What Verdi achieves in the opera is
done by a lighter style than in his
previous operas. He eschews rhythmic
elaboration and there is not a single
stretta. For the first time Verdi uses
themes to characterise the three principals
and, to a lesser extent, The Council
of Ten. These 
themes
reflect the impetuousness of Lucrezia,
the pathos of Jacapo and the grandeur
of the Doge. The writing for the three
principals, together with the implacable
character of the basso comprimario role
of Loredano and I due Foscari
provides an ideal challenge for
the recording studio. A late 1940s Cetra
recording featuring the young Bergonzi
and conducted by Giulini has been re-issued
by Warner Fonit (8573 83515-2). Realistically
there is no serious audio rival to the
1976 Philips recording featuring Cappuccilli’s
long-phrased brooding Doge, Carreras’s
plangent Jacapo and Katia Ricciarelli’s
strong Lucrezia. Sam Ramey does ample
and sonorous justice to the role of
Loredano whilst on the rostrum Gardelli
illuminates Verdi’s more mundane passages
(Philips 422 426).
For a Verdi opera with few staged performances,
I am particularly pleased to give a
warm welcome to a choice of versions
of I due Foscari on
DVD. The most recent recording, which
I
haven’t seen, features Leo Nucci as
the Doge (TDK. DV-IDF). Whatever its
virtues it would take much to persuade
me away from Renato Bruson’s superbly
sung and acted performance in the 1988
La Scala production by Pierre Luigi
Pizzi (Opus Arte OALS 3007D). The vibrant
and dramatic Linda Roark-Strummer matches
Bruson for achievement whilst Alberto
Cupido, as Jacopo, could sing more sensitively
and which might have avoided his periodic
signs of strain. Nonetheless this staging
and performance makes the case for I
due Foscari as good viewing. Together
with the Philips audio recording it
shows the opera to be one of the most
original of Verdi’s early works. Despite
the fact that the opera was only a modest
success in Rome, and Donizetti considered
it only showed Verdi’s genius in fits
and starts, it was widely performed
over the next thirty years.
Despite his health problems during the
composition of I due Foscari,
Verdi faced a heavy workload on his
return to Milan. He was involved in
a revival of I Lombardi which
opened the season at La Scala on 26
December 1844, whilst also starting
to compose a new work for presentation
at the theatre later in the season.
In agreeing to write a new work for
La Scala Verdi was aware that he would
not have the choice of singers or librettist,
which would be in impresario Merelli’s
gift. Whether under pressure from his
publisher or out of indebtedness to
Merelli who had stuck with him through
the dark days of the failure of Un
Giorno di Regno, he had agreed to
this arrangement. The subject chosen
was Giovanna d’Arco
his 7th opera.
Despite librettist Solera’s protestations
to the contrary, he fearing copyright
problems in France, it is loosely based
on Schiller’s ‘Die Jungfrau von Orleans’.
During the composition of Giovanna
d’Arco, and the preparation and
performances of I Lombardi, Verdi
became increasingly frustrated and angry.
Merelli was a very warm-hearted and
generous man, but a pretty lousy impresario.
Far too often the singers dictated what
went on. This even involved them inserting
arias by other composers in order to
show off their strengths or to give
greater weight to a role that they considered
not commensurate with their status.
The I Lombardi rehearsals became
stormy with Verdi complaining about
the size of the orchestra as well as
the indolence, arrogance and poor quality
of the principal singers who were also
scheduled to feature in the new opera.
Verdi refused to attend the opening
night of the new production of I
Lombardi. Nevertheless the
revival was successful. Giovanna
d’Arco opened on 15 February,
a mere eighteen weeks after the premiere
of I due Foscari. Despite
a poor public response to the tenor,
Giovanna D’Arco was well received
and soon the street barrel-organs were
ringing to the prologue tune of Tu
sei bella, the demons’ chorus that
haunts Joan. As well as the stage and
singer problems, Verdi’s relationship
with Merelli became strained when the
latter negotiated the sale of the full
score without the composer’s knowledge.
It was the end of a friendship. Verdi
vowed never to set foot in the theatre
or speak to Merelli again. A man who
carried grudges, Verdi carried out his
threat for over twenty-five years until
the revised La Forza del Destino
was premiered there in February
1869. The hatchet buried, La Scala premiered
the revised Simon Boccanegra in
1881, the four-act 1884 version of Don
Carlo, the first Italian performances
of Aida and the composer’s two
final operatic masterpieces, Otello
and Falstaff.
Giovanna D’Arco is
scored for three primo singers: soprano,
tenor and baritone. It requires singers
with true Verdian voices, ones with
the subtle combination of legato, the
ability for a wide 
range
of vocal expression and colour and to
convey the character and emotions of
the roles being portrayed. None of the
three principal characters, Joan herself,
Carlo the King and her father Giacomo,
are sketched, musically, in any great
depth or complexity. The trio of soloists
have to work really hard to make the
roles anything other than ciphers. This
may well account for the paucity of
both staged and recorded performances.
The only studio recording is that from
EMI in 1972 with James Levine conducting
and the trio of Montserrat Caballé,
Placido Domingo and Sherrill Milnes,
Verdi singers of the first class. Levine’s
conducting, particularly of the overture
and chorus scenes, is rather harsh and
metronomic for my ears (CMS 7 63226
2).
What Levine’s conducting lacks in feel
for the Verdi idiom on the audio recording
of Giovanna D’Arco, is
found in abundance by Riccardo Chailly
in the Warner Music DVD of Werner Hertzog’s
1989 production at Bologna (see review).
Although Susan Dunn as the Maid and
Vincenzo La Scola as the King are stolid
actors both are vocally more than adequate
whilst Renato Bruson is outstanding
vocally and histrionically.
After the 1844 success of Ernani
one of the first people to approach
Verdi for a new opera was Vincenzo Flauto,
impresario of the San Carlo theatre
in Naples. Together with La Scala and
Venice’s La Fenice, the San Carlo made
up the trio of leading theatres in Italy.
It had been the cradle of classical
opera and the base for Rossini’s musical
innovations and greatest opera seria,
both facilitated by its professional
orchestra. Verdi contracted to write
an opera for production in June 1845,
a mere four months after the premiere
of Giovanna d’Arco. The subject
settled on, between the theatre and
the librettist, Cammarano, was Voltaire’s
play ‘Alzire’. Cammarano had written
the librettos for several of Donizetti’s
successes including Lucia di Lammermoor
and Roberto Devereux. He
was adept at avoiding conflict with
the repressive Neapolitan censors and
Verdi readily approved his synopsis.
The speed of Verdi’s approval, and the
few instances of the composer’s interference,
might have sounded warnings had Flauto
known his man better. The composer was
emotionally, and perhaps creatively,
exhausted. The stresses of I Lombardi
and Giovanna d’Arco at La
Scala and his falling out with Merelli
had taken their toll. He pleaded for
a time extension furnishing medical
certificates in support. Flauto, a doctor,
at first dismissed his pleas suggesting
the warm air of Naples would effect
a speedy cure. With Cammarano’s aid
a postponement was achieved and Alzira,
Verdi’s 8th opera,
was premiered on 12 August 1845.
Cammarano’s libretto for Alzira
reduced Voltaire’s five-act play
to a prologue and two acts, a total
of six scenes. The plot became a love
triangle for tenor, soprano and baritone
set in Lima, Peru. Verdi is said to
have composed the music in twenty days,
for him a barely believable time-scale.
The opera was only moderately well received
in Naples and was a failure when revived
in Rome in the November following its
premiere. A revival at La Scala in 1846
earned Verdi his worst notices since
the fiasco of Un Giorno di Regno.
In later years the composer recognised
Alzira’s limitations and considered
it beyond redemption. It was lost sight
of until revived in a production in
Rome in 1967 that indicated the score
to be at least vibrant and melodic in
parts.
When Philips concluded their series
of eight early Verdi operas conducted
by Lamberto Gardelli, the option to
record Alzira fell
to the small German company Orfeo who
recorded it in 1982. 
With
Gardelli again on the rostrum, and a
cast of Ileana Cotrubas, Francesco Araiza
and Renato Bruson as principals, its
only drawback is the layout on the two
CDs with the separation of the finale
of act 1 spreading onto disc two (Orfeo
C 057832 H). Philips eventually got
round to recording Alzira in
brief sessions in Geneva at the end
of 1999 with Anna Mescherakova in the
name part, Ramon Vargas and Paola Gavanelli.
Fabio Luisa on the rostrum is as idiomatic
a Verdian as Gardelli (Philips 464 6282
PH2). While the Philips recording is
more atmospheric the Orfeo has the stronger
male principals, particularly Bruson.
The failure of Alzira and the
pace of his compositional life took
its toll on Verdi’s frail psyche and
bodily well-being. In 1845 he wrote
‘My mind is always black … I must
look forward to the passing of the next
three years. I must write six operas’.
One of those six was Attila,
his 9th opera.
It was the first of three written under
a contract with the publisher Lucca
who retained all rights. It was the
first time Verdi had written for a publisher
not a theatre. Some years later Lucca
sold the autograph of Attila to
a wealthy Englishman living in Florence.
It is now held in the British Museum
and is the only Verdi autograph not
held by the Italian publisher Ricordi
or the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris.
Earlier Verdi had enthused to Piave
about Werner’s play of 1808 titled ‘Attila
König der Hunnen’ and after the success
of Ernani the librettist prepared
an outline. When Attila became the subject
of the opera for presentation at Venice’s
La Fenice the composer considered the
more grandiose Solera a better bet for
the libretto of Attila.
Later, when the dilatory Solera had
to go to Spain on family matters, Verdi
turned again to Piave to make the modifications
he required to the last act. Solera
was not pleased! It was the end of a
collaboration that had not produced
a single failure.
Verdi began composing in September 1845
a month after the premiere of Alzira.
He became afflicted with rheumatism
which aggravated his general despondency.
In January 1846 he was stricken by severe
gastric fever and alarming reports circulated
as to his health and even an obituary
appeared in Leipzig! Despite these travails,
which included allowing himself to be
bled, and under pressure from the publisher
Lucca, he kept beavering away at Attila
which was premiered on 18 March
1846, somewhat later than the New Year’s
Eve originally intended.
Verdi’s Attila is
traditional in structure with arias,
duets and cabalettas. It has the Verdian
hallmark of verve and colour as one
scene or confrontation moves to the
next. Although the librettists followed
the composer’s instructions to concentrate
on the principals there are significant
and particularly vibrant choruses. Neither
Verdi, nor the audience, passed over
the dramatic situation when the Roman
General Ezio calls on the conquering
Attila, King of the Huns, You may
have the universe but leave Italy to
me. It is a wonder that he occupying
Austrian censors passed the scene, which
regularly produced a vociferous reaction
from the audience. It doubtless contributed
to the contemporary success of Attila.
The opera maintained a strong hold on
popular affections throughout Italy
until replaced by Rigoletto.
It is the heaviest and noisiest of the
‘galley years’ operas and maintained
its place in the repertoire of Italy’s
theatres during Verdi’s lifetime. To
the best of my knowledge Cetra did not
record the 1951 anniversary revival.
On record Attila was
a natural for the second in Philips’
early Verdi series. Recorded in London
in 1972 (Philips 426 115) it has Ruggero
Raimondi and Christina Deutekom from
the earlier recording of I Lombardi.
They feature as Attila himself and Odabella,
whose father was killed by the Hun and
on whom she avenges herself by stabbing
him to death. Raimondi is in sonorously
refulgent voice and conveys the magnanimity
of the role well. He is matched vocally
by Samuel Ramey in the 1989 EMI recording
(CDS 7 49952 2) made in association
with performances under Muti whose affinity
for Verdi matches that of Gardelli on
Philips. Elsewhere the rival casts make
something of a box and cox frustration.
Cheryl Studer on EMI is far more secure
and tonally varied than Christina Deutekom,
whilst EMI's Neil Schicoff’s penny plain
singing is not in the same league as
Carlo Bergonzi’s elegantly sung and
phrased Foresto for Philips and which
is some of the finest tenor singing
on record. Both Sherrill Milnes (Philips)
and Giorgio Zancanaro as the Roman general
Ezio are equally excellent although
the latter probably shades it for his
Italianata. For those who enjoy the
frisson of a live performance the Capriccio
issue has plenty of brio although the
tenor singing in particular is not strong
and the soprano is not as steady as
she should be (see review).
On
DVD Sam Ramey, who seems to have made
something of a speciality of showing
off his fine chest as Attila, stars
in an atmospheric 1991 La Scala production
that also features Cheryl Studer and
Giorgio Zancanaro. As in the audio recording
from La Scala, Muti is again on the
rostrum with Kaludi Kaludov an undistinguished
Foresto (Opus Arte OA LS3010 D). As
an alternative, the Verona performance
with Yevgeny Nesterenko as Attila, Maria
Chiara, Silvana Corroli and Veriano
Luchetti is reported as one of the most
vocally committed and musically vibrant
of the 1980s series of performances
from that venue (Warner 50504679932-2).
Five days after the premiere of Attila,
Verdi returned to Milan. He was expected
to travel to London to write an opera
for the impresario Benjamin Lumley,
to be produced at Her Majesty’s Theatre.
He was in a state of collapse. His doctors
forbade travel and ordered six months
complete rest with no thought of composing
or future commitments. Although physically
strong, Verdi’s psyche was unable to
sustain the demands made on composers
by the Italian theatres in the way Rossini
and Donizetti had. Whether this was
a consequence of the intensity and involvement
he brought to the planning and staging
of his works, perhaps coupled with the
lack of the support of a family and
the manner of their early deaths, can
only be conjectured.
For the first few months of his enforced
rest Verdi did as instructed by his
doctors whilst being cared for by his
pupil and amanuensis Emmanuele Muzio.
Verdi sent medical certificates to Lumley
in London who tended to be as sceptical
as Flauto in Naples had been regarding
the composer’s illness. Whilst taking
the waters at Recoaro in July his friend
Andrea Maffei was a visitor. A man of
letters and translator of Shakespeare
and Schiller, Maffei set Verdi’s mind
on different directions to Byron’s play
The Corsair which the composer
had earlier discussed with Piave and
Lucca as the subject for London. By
mid-August his mind was divided between
an opera based on Schiller’s ‘Die Raüber’,
and which later became I Masnadieri,
and Macbeth based on his beloved
Shakespeare. He envisaged Schiller’s
Karl as a tenor and wrote to Lanari,
the impresario in Florence, to enquire
if the tenor Fraschini was to be a member
of the company. He was not, and Verdi
turned to the subject of Macbeth
knowing he would have the baritone
Varesi available in Florence whom he
considered ideal in temperament and
appearance for the title role.
At the beginning of September 1846 Verdi
sent Piave a summary of Macbeth together
with very detailed instructions to his
malleable librettist. During the composition
of the music Verdi worked slowly and
carefully and with a deeper commitment
than he had given to its immediate predecessors.
He gave Lanari instructions as to décor
and costumes, which he wanted to be
historically accurate. Early in January
1847 he wrote to the singers who were
to portray Macbeth and his wife giving
precise instructions as to how the music
was to be performed. He wrote ‘I
wish the singers to serve the poet rather
than the composer’ adding ‘If
there is any passage that does not lie
well for you let me know before I orchestrate
it’.
Whilst in Florence
for the new opera, Attila was
given. Rehearsed by Muzio it was a great
success with the audience demanding
Verdi’s presence. By the time of the
Macbeth premiere,
Verdi’s 10th opera
on 14 March 1847, nearly a year after
Attila, expectations were
high. Verdi had rehearsed the singers
to the last moment and on the first
night the composer took thirty-eight
curtain calls. Varesi referred to the
success he had obtained with the role
of Macbeth as the most important of
his career. He described the second
performance as consisting of one single
prolonged ovation!
In 1864 Verdi was asked to provide ballet
music for insertion in performances
of Macbeth in the Paris Théâtre
Lyrique. He responded that he would
undertake a more fundamental revision
of the work. The revision was premiered
on 1 April 1865 in the composer’s absence.
Except for the odd occasion, it is in
this 1865 form that Macbeth is
performed and has been recorded. In
view of this and the major revisions
involved I will deal with that version
in Part 4 of this conspectus. Fortunately
for the recorded legacy, the BBC, under
the inspired leadership of the Verdi
scholar Julian Budden, recorded and
broadcast performances of the original
versions of five of Verdi’s works including
Macbeth. The 1969 Macbeth
recording features the Yorkshire
baritone Peter 
Glossop
in the title role, arguably the finest
British Verdi baritone of the post-Second
World War years. Glossop conquered the
demanding audiences of the Italian provinces
as well as La Scala and the major American
lyric theatres, including the Met, singing
Verdi baritone roles. His Lady on the
recording is Rita Hunter a formidable
Brünnhilde in the theatre. She may not
have the ideal Italianata of Verdi’s
dreams, but hers is a formidably sung
interpretation. With the support of
the Peter Moores Foundation the performance
has been issued on CD and should be
part of any Verdi collection (see review).
I have not been able to hear the live
recording from the 1997 Martina Franca
Festival with the dark-hued soprano
Iano Tamar as Lady Macbeth and Yevgeny
Demerdjiev in the title role (Dynamic
CDS 194).
For Verdi his ‘anni de gallera’
were not yet over. However, in Macbeth
there is a new freedom and depth in
his composition. Those qualities surely
reflect the less pressurised period
that the composer had enjoyed during
the work’s composition compared to that
previously. The work has novelties such
as the sleepwalking and apparition scenes
and the lack of love interest. After
the reception in Florence, and before
going back to the grindstone, there
were both bridges to be mended and sturdy
barriers to be built. Piave had been
deeply hurt by Verdi having his verses
for Macbeth tampered with by
Maffei and the composer needed to placate
him. Meanwhile, La Scala had butchered
I due Foscari, with the second
and third acts performed in reverse
order and a substandard performance
of Attila had opened the carnival
season on 26 December 1846. Verdi was
in high dudgeon. He instructed Ricordi
that he was not to permit La Scala to
perform Macbeth or any of his
subsequent operas. As I have noted Verdi
did not relent on this embargo for nearly
twenty-five years. .
Whilst in Milan composing Macbeth,
Verdi was visited by Lumley. They agreed
that the London opera, one of those
placed by the publisher Lucca, would
be I Masnadieri the
composer’s 11th opera
with the libretto by the composer’s
friend Andrea Maffei. It is possible
that some of the music was composed
before Verdi started on Macbeth.
This would account for the ditching
of Il Corsaro for London and
which did not please Lucca. Verdi travelled
to London via Paris with the vocal score
finished. He sent Muzio ahead to London
while he stayed briefly in Paris seeing
his friend Giuseppina Strepponi who
lived and taught there. He arrived in
London on 7 June 1847 where he found
the found the fog and rain of the English
capital a trial. He worked hard on the
orchestration, even declining an invitation
to meet Queen Victoria. It was by her
command, however, that the opera had
its premiere on 22 July as Parliament
went on vacation. In a house comprising
royalty and aristocracy the opera was
received with enthusiasm. The critics
were less kind to the first Italian
composer of the 19th century
to write a work for London.
Lumley had gathered a fine cast for
Verdi’s opera including Jenny Lind,
known as the Swedish Nightingale. For
the first time in her life she was to
create a role specially written for
her. Verdi was impressed by her personality
but less so by her singing with her
inclination to show off her technique
in fioriture and trills. Significantly,
Verdi left the cadenzas to her invention.
She expected to derive her own and they
remained her property. Mindful of Jenny
Lind’s vocal qualities and limitations,
Verdi’s writing of the role of Amalia
keeps to the middle and upper soprano
reaches, much as for Gilda in Rigoletto.
There are obvious situations in the
story when a voice with a lower middle
register could have given more dramatic
bite if the music composed specifically
for Lind had allowed it.
Verdi conducted the premiere and second
performance. Michael Balfe, friend of
Rossini and composer of The Bohemian
Girl and Maid of Artois,
took over as Verdi left for Paris. I
Masnadieri has never
received the popularity of Attila
although the structure is very similar,
being one of scenes with double arias
and ensembles. As an opera it was too
complex for a fill-in work for an Italian
theatre during a season and didn’t have
the Risorgimento feel to make it particularly
popular there. Given the sparseness
of stage performances, I have only ever
managed to see it once over thirty years
ago by the Welsh National Opera. It
is therefore pleasing and surprising
to realise that the work has had two
studio recordings. Recorded in London
in 1974 the Philips (422 423)
issue has an outstanding trio of male
principals in Carlo Bergonzi, Pierro
Cappuccilli and Ruggero Raimondi with
Montserrat Caballé in the Jenny Lind
role of Amalia. Although Caballé had
recorded the lyrico spinto role of Aida
a month before in London, with Muti
on the rostrum, she had the capacity
to fine down her voice for the lighter
role of Amalia. Caballé was also the
queen of the sotto voce pianissimo and
coloratura floated on a wisp of breath.
What Caballé didn’t have, but Sutherland
did, was a trill to die for. Whether
because of that skill, or the London
connection, Decca recorded the role
with their diva. Her supporting cast
of Franco Bonisolli, Mateo Manuguerra
and Sam Ramey are no rival to their
Philips counterparts. Nor is Bonynge
as natural a Verdian as Gardelli (Decca
433 854). Sonically both recordings
are of a high quality with the Decca
being DDD.
Although Queen Victoria’s appreciation
of I Masnadieri was limited,
impresario Lumley was sufficiently impressed
to invite Verdi to become Musical Director
of Her Majesty’s Theatre. This would
involve him in writing one opera each
year and conducting the others in the
season. The proposed contract to be
for ten years. Like the London climate
this proposal did not appeal to Verdi
who suggested a three-year deal at ninety
thousand francs per season. Although
Lumley suggested discussing the matter
further when he visited Italy, the matter
did not proceed.
Back in Paris, as well as seeing a lot
of Strepponi, Verdi agreed on a work
for the Paris Opéra. Given the lack
of time Verdi followed the example of
Rossini and Donizetti in adapting an
existing work. The work chosen was I
Lombardi, which became Jérusalem,
Verdi’s 12th opera.
The composition kept Verdi in Paris
for the next few months during which
his relationship with Strepponi came
into full blossom. The French librettists
Royer and Väez produced a libretto that
was no mere translation of the Italian
of I Lombardi. Although the shape
of the plot and the historical period
of the crusades remained the same, the
Italian crusaders of Lombardy became
French from Toulouse. Verdi wrote a
new orchestral introduction to replace
the brief prelude and as well as the
required ballet music he also composed
substantial additions to the score.
Importantly, he discarded the rather
immature scene in which the deceased
Oronte appeared from heaven complete
with aria. The changes are sufficient
for Jérusalem to be considered
a separate entity from I Lombardi.
The opera, involving the tenor Duprez,
creator of Edgardo in Donizetti’s Lucia,
was a fair success at its premiere on
26 November 1847. Although Verdi had
high hopes for the Italian translation,
as Gerusaleme, these were only
partially realised. The changes in Jérusalem
from I Lombardi are
sufficient for it to be considered a
separate entity. Both operas circulated
simultaneously in Italian theatres for
some years.
The challenges of Paris and its musical
standards kept Verdi interested in The
Opéra, whilst Jérusalem was sufficiently
successful to keep the theatre management
interested in Verdi. Jérusalem was
to have been followed by a completely
new work by Verdi for The Opéra, but
the dramatic political upheavals in
France in 1848, leading to the abdication
of Louis Phillipe and the establishment
of the Second Empire, made that impossible.
Jérusalem was the
last of the composer’s works to receive
a studio recording when Philips recorded
it in Geneva in the last week of August
1998 with the dynamic Fabio Luisi on
the rostrum. With two of the
male principals, Marcello Giordani and
Roberto Scandiuzzi, Italian, and the
soprano lead Russian, the French is
hardly idiomatic. There are further
drawbacks in that Scandiuzzi is not
in best voice and Marina Mescheriakova
has poor diction. Despite these limitations,
the fluidity of Luisi’s conducting and
the idiomatic chorus the performance
give support to Verdi’s own favourable
view of his creation (Philips 462 613-2
PH3). A second opinion of this recording
can be found at (see review).
A DVD (TDK DV-OPJER) of a production
in Genoa has been reviewed by a colleague
(see review).
Around the time of the staging of Jérusalem,
Verdi and Giuseppina Strepponi’s love
affair flourished. At one point in the
autograph of Jérusalem, alternate
lines in the love duet are written in
each other’s hand and make a touching
declaration of mutual affection. Their
cohabitation, which was to cause problems
in Busseto, passed without notice or
comment in free-thinking Paris. Meanwhile
Verdi had a third obligation to Lucca
to fulfil. It says something about his
recent financial situation that he offered
the publisher ten thousand lire to release
him from the contract. The offer was
refused and Verdi turned to Piave’s
libretto of Byron’s ‘Corsair’, which
he had held for some time under the
title Il Corsaro. It was
to be his 13th opera.
Verdi composed the work over the winter
months of 1847-48 and sent the completed
score to Muzio in Milan asking that
he deliver it to Lucca. Normally, Verdi
would have attended rehearsals, modifying
the score to meet the singer’s strengths
and limitations. He didn’t do so. Even
worse, he could not be bothered to attend
the premiere at the Teatro Grande, Trieste
on 25 October 1848 preferring to stay
in Paris with Strepponi. As was soften
the case when this happened, local patriotism
was outraged and the reception hostile
despite Lucca having carded a strong
cast for the premiere. Verdi had hoped
that Muzio would conduct the opera,
but he had previously had to flee to
Switzerland following the failed Italian
revolution. The local press made hay
with comments about full pockets of
English guineas and French francs. Il
Corsaro appeared in Milan, Venice
and Naples in subsequent seasons but
was not received with enthusiasm. Later,
when La Fenice in Venice’s proposed
its revival in the season that was to
produce La Traviata, Verdi declined
a special contract to take charge of
rehearsals. After 1854, Il Corsaro
disappeared for more than a
century.
Piave’s libretto for Il Corsaro
adheres closely to Byron except
in keeping both heroines alive longer
to provide a final trio. The brevity
of the opera does not permit Verdi to
draw convincing music characterisations
of the principals. Nevertheless the
music has many felicitous Verdian touches
including a vibrant and a dramatic prison
scene. The most convincingly drawn portrayal
is that of Pasha Seid. On Philips’ 1975
recording the role is taken by Gian-Piero
Mastromei. He sings strongly without
erasing thoughts of what Cappuccilli
would have brought to the role. Montserrat
Caballé sings the role of the slave
Gulnara whom Corrado, the eponymous
corsair, 
determines
to rescue from Pasha Seid. She does
so with fine tone and dramatic conviction.
Her vocal colour is nicely contrasted
with the lower-centred soprano of Jessye
Norman, then a Philips contracted artist,
who takes the lesser role of Medora,
the woman left alone at home by the
restless Corrado. The title role is
sung with virile lyric tone by José
Carreras, (Philips 426 118). Whether
or not influenced by the limited chorus
content, Gardelli’s normally thrusting
conducting is unusually placid. A staged
performance
from the June 2004 Parma Verdi Festival
at the Teatro Regio Parma under Renato
Palumbo has been issued on both DVD
and CD on the Dynamic label.
Renato Bruson’s Seid is strongly
acted but his vocal condition is no
longer a match for his acting. The
other roles are sung more than adequately
and the whole staging is visually convincing,
giving dramatic coherence to the work
(see review).
For those without DVD facility, and
who prefer a live to a studio performance,
the audio recording is in good sound
although without the visual contribution
of his acting Bruson’s singing is something
of a trial ((Dynamic 468/1-2).
1848 was a year of revolution and political
unrest in Europe. In February bloody
street fighting in Paris led to the
abdication of Louis Phillipe, ‘the citizen
king’, and the establishment of the
Second Empire. In April occupying Austrian
troops in Milan fired on a crowd precipitating
the building of barricades in the streets
and five days of street fighting known
as the ‘Cinque giornate’. The Austrians
withdrew to defendable fortresses between
Verona and Mantua rather than destroy
Milan. The states of Parma, Modena and
Tuscany drove out their rulers. Venice
declared itself once more an independent
republic. The Pope escaped from Rome
disguised as an ordinary priest. However,
it was a false dawn. Internecine squabbles,
and the defeat of Alberto of Piedmont,
who had supported the rebels, allowed
the Austrians to pick off each state
in turn. A year after the ‘Cinque giornate’
the Pope was back in Rome and the Austrians
were again in control in northern Italy
and would remain so for a further decade.
In April 1848 Verdi had returned to
Milan from Paris and saw the gigantic
barricades. To give succour to his fellow
radicals he composed the hymn Suona
la Tromba and expressed the hope
that it would be sung amid the guns
on the plain of Lombardy. In reality,
by its completion the guns were already
silenced. Verdi’s prime purpose in returning,
and one that was to dominate his future
life and actions, including compositions,
was the purchase of the Villa Sant’Agata
near Busseto. In due course he set up
house there with Giuseppina Strepponi.
After completion of this business Verdi
returned again to Paris.
The political events in Italy turned
Verdi’s mind back to a plea he had received,
in the immediate aftermath of Macbeth,
from the poet Giuseppe Giusta, a supporter
of the liberal and nationalist political
movement. Giusta castigated Verdi for
immersing himself in subjects unrelated
to contemporary political life in Italy
and after the staging of Il Corsaro
he began to cast around for a suitable
subject. Verdi was still contracted
to supply an opera for Naples and the
house librettist, Salvatore Cammarano,
came up with the suggestion of the 1176
Battle of Legnano when the Lombardy
League defeated Frederick the Great.
It was a subject, Cammarano argued,
that would stir every man with an Italian
soul. With the historical background
not troubling the censors and with accommodation
of Verdi’s suggestions, the outcome
was a taut melodrama of patriotic sentiments
and violent action. But the political
upheavals of 1848 gave the censors of
Naples second thoughts and Verdi’s contract
to give the opera in that city fell
by the wayside. In the event his patriotic
opera La battaglia di Legnano,
his 14th, was premiered
in Rome on 27 January 1849 conducted
by the composer.
At the time of the premiere Rome, minus
the Pope, was about to declare itself
a Republic. The republican leaders Mazzini
and Garibaldi had arrived and the city
was electric with excitement. On the
night of the premiere, the Teatro Argentina
was packed out. At the first words of
the opening chorus Viva Italia! Sacro
un patto tutti stringe I figli suoi
(Long live Italy! A holy pact binds
all her sons together) there were cries
of Viva Verdi and Viva Italia.
The fourth act, where the news of the
triumph of the Lombard League soldiers
was revealed with cries of Vittoria!
Vittoria!, the following grand scena,
trio and Hymns of Victory, had
to be encored in its entirety at every
performance of the season. The audience
knew full well what they were cheering
and it had more relevance than a battle
seven hundred years before or the personal
circumstances of the relationship of
the Milanese leader, Rolando, his wife
Lida and the Veronese warrior Arrigo!
La battaglia di Legnano received
a few performances elsewhere in northern
Italy but succumbed to the Austrian
censorship as they once again took over
the region and its states. There were
some attempts at revivals with the venue
and situation changed. Later the opera
came to be thought of as a pièce
d’occasion and passed into oblivion.
What is notable in the work is that
Verdi’s music takes a significant step
forward in its construction in what
is the last of the grandiose operas
of his early period. Not only is grandiosity
more focused, but Verdi also shows that
he is more easily able than previously
to give musical dimension to the personal
relationships in the story.
My own introduction to La battaglia
di Legnano came in the 1960s
when, with the collapse of Manchester’s
Rare Records franchise of the Cetra
catalogue, many copies of that unrivalled
opera rich source became available as
bargain priced LPs. Just the thing for
an impecunious young
professional man with a wife and family
to support! The Cetra recording, with
Rome forces under Previtali, has been
re-issued by Warner Fonit (8573 82710-2).
Thrilling as the idiomatic choral singing
of that recording remains in my mind’s
ear, it is equalled in vibrancy, and
surpassed sonically, by the ORF chorus
of Vienna on Philips’ 1977 recording
(422 435). With Gardelli back in fine
form on the rostrum and a solo team
of Carreras, Manuguerra and Ghiuselev
the visceral thrill of the music is
considerable. I might have preferred
Caballé and Cappuccilli among the soloists
but that is purely personal and should
not detract from a wholesome recommendation.
I know of no DVD performance.
After the launching of La battaglia
di Legnano Verdi returned
to Paris and to Giuseppina Strepponi.
During the revolutionary upheavals of
1848 he had formally written to the
San Carlo breaking off his contract.
But it was not to be got rid of that
easily. As the Austrians re-took control
in the north, the status quo returned.
The San Carlo blamed Cammarano for failing
to provide a libretto and threatened
to sue and imprison him. With a wife
and six children to support Cammarano
wrote to Verdi begging him to renew
his Naples contract; for his librettist’s
sake the composer did so. To Cammarano
he stipulated that the new opera should
be ‘a brief drama of interest, action
and above all feeling’. Verdi also
wanted something spectacular to suit
the size of the San Carlo and proposed
an opera based on ‘The Siege of Florence’.
The Naples censor would have none of
it. Cammarano suggested Schiller’s ‘Kabale
und Liebe’, the last of his early prose
plays noting there was ‘no rebellion,
or the rhetoric of Die Rauber’,
the source of I Masnadieri, the
opera premiered in London. Cammarano
took care to eliminate the political
and social overtones of the play with
its story of innocence destroyed by
corruption and the machinations of those
in power. In Cammarano’s hands, subtly
manipulated by the composer, Schiller’s
play became Luisa Miller,
Verdi’s 15th opera.
It was premiered at the San Carlo on
8 December 1849.
During the composition of Luisa
Miller Verdi and Giuseppina
Strepponi left Paris to live in Busseto.
Their cohabitation caused difficulty
with his parents and estranged him from
several old friends. Later it caused
a brief estrangement with Barezzi, his
father-in-law and benefactor, whom Verdi
revered. When the composition was finished
Verdi took Barezzi to Naples for the
premiere and to show him the sights
of Pompeii, Herculaneum and Ischia.
In Naples the first part of Verdi’s
fee was not forthcoming and acrimony
ensued between Verdi, the impresario
and the financially strapped San Carlo
directors. Luisa Miller was
well, but not over-enthusiastically
received and Verdi returned home somewhat
soured and vowing never to compose for
the San Carlo again. He never did, although
both sides made attempts.
Verdi might originally have wanted something
spectacular for the San Carlo, what
he and Cammarano hatched was an intense
personal drama. In parts of La battaglia
di Legnano Verdi had learned
how to express intimate emotions in
his music. In Luisa Miller
he takes this skill a quantum leap
forward together with a new concentration
of lyrical elements. This is achieved
with the avoidance of excessive use
of brass and timpani. Instead, the plaintive
woodwind tones give character to the
more intimate pastoral nature of the
early scenes in particular. The individual
characters are filled out musically
and encompass the varying emotions they
have to convey and which differ significantly
in the three acts. It is in the music
of the last act where scholars suggest
that Verdi really breaks new ground
and shows himself compositionally ready
for the subjects of the great operas
that were subsequently to flow from
his pen.
When composing Verdi always had in mind
the vocal characteristics of the singers
who were going to be involved. Later
he was prepared to forego fees if he
thought a singer or singers in a revival
were not up to his vision. As early
as 1850 he embargoed performances of
Luisa Miller when he believed
the tenor was not of the front rank.
Important though the name part is,
the tenor’s capacity to carry the emotional
burden and convey his agonies of mind,
particularly in the great act two aria
Quando le sere al placido is
paramount. The recorded legacy is fortunate
in that three of the most significant
tenors of the second half of the twentieth
century recorded the role of Rodolfo,
the incognito son of the local Count
who woes Luisa. Of the three, Placido
Domingo recorded the role 
twice.
His first recording, under Maazel, was
contiguous with 1978 performances at
Covent Garden with much the same cast.
Although he is in good virile and free-toned
voice, Maazel’s excessive rhythmic precision
seems to inhibit him (DG 459 481), whereas
under Levine he is much more dramatic
(Sony S2K 48073). In the very picturesque
Covent Garden staging Katia Ricciarelli
made a visually appealing Luisa. Although
not vocally perfect she conveys Luisa’s
emotions well, managing the lightness
of touch needed in act one whilst also
having the heft and tonal variety for
the drama of the final act. Her performance
is preferable to that of Aprille Millo
for Levine whose voice is much too big
for the lyrical and coloratura elements
of act one, although she comes more
into her own in act three as Luisa unwittingly
takes the poison Rodolfo, in his desperation,
has offered. As Luisa’s father Miller,
Bruson (DG) and Chernov (Sony), both
making recording debuts in significant
Verdi roles, sing with full rich tone
and excellent characterisation.
Luciano Pavarotti recorded Rodolfo in
1975 alongside Montserrat Caballé’s
involved and vocally assured Luisa and
Sherrill Milnes’ young-sounding Miller
(Decca 473 365). The real strength of
this performance is in Peter Maag’s
sensitivity to the different moods of
each act in a manner w
holly
beyond Maazel. That is not to ignore
the contribution of Pavarotti whose
lyrical tenor is in its finest condition.
His open-throated lyrical passion in
the rendering of Quando le sere al
placido, the only piece from the
opera to make it onto recitals, exhibits
the fine legato, evenness of emission
and sensitivity to the words and emotions
that characterised his best singing
in the first decade of his international
career. Even if Pavarotti does not match
Bergonzi’s elegance of phrase, his Rodolfo
is one of his finest recorded performances.
On the 1964 RCA Rome recording conducted
by Fausto Cleva (GD 86646), Bergonzi’s
characterisation is rather bland and
whilst singing with fine tone, vocal
colour and legato, he does not match
Pavarotti in variety of expression
and characterisation. Anna Moffo’s
Luisa is at its best in act one where
her light-voiced innocence, fluid trill
and pin-point coloratura are among the
best of all the divas on record. She
doesn’t, however, have the requisite
tonal weight or variety of vocal colour
for the dramatic dénouement of act three.
The other singers in the cast, particularly
Shirley Verrett in the small but important
role of Frederica, are among the strongest
in their roles among their recorded
coevals. Cleva’s flaccid conducting
and the rough-edged recording are drawbacks.
To date, the only DVD recording of Luisa
Miller from a mainline source
has been of a 1979 Met performance of
Nathaniel Merrill’s production. Conducted
by Levine it features Domingo alongside
Renata Scotto and Sherrill
Milnes (DG 073 4027). I will hope to
make comments about this performance
in an update of this conspectus in due
course. I also hope that the visually
appealing Covent Garden production,
referred to above, and was which seen
on TV, will emerge on DVD.
Luisa Miller is
a fitting conclusion to this second
part of my four-part survey of Verdi’s
life and his operas. It was the first
opera that the composer had written
against a background of comparative
leisure and settled domestic circumstances.
Significantly, it is also the first
opera where he made extensive sketches,
whilst the musical sophistication in
Luisa Miller marks a significant
advance in his compositional maturity.
Although in future years there were
times that Verdi put himself under compositional
pressure to meet deadlines, as well
as harkening after composing an opera
based on King Lear, his ‘anni
de galera’ as he called them,
were over. He was recognised throughout
Europe as the foremost Italian composer.
As a subject of the Duchy of Parma Verdi
avoided the financial penalties wrought
on the supporters of Italy’s abortive
fight for freedom and which enabled
him to invest in property in Busseto.
Although there would be personal problems
in Busseto arising from his living with
Strepponi, he was happy to ignore them
and build up his estate there. Inevitably
there would also be professional frustrations
with impresarios, theatres and singers,
but Verdi was on the threshold of the
compositional greatness exemplified
by several of his operas of the next
ten years. These works include the great
trio of Rigoletto, Il Trovatore
and La Traviata as well Un
Ballo in Maschera and which form
the backbone of his compositions in
the 1850s as well as the repertoire
in contemporary opera houses. These,
and his other operatic works of the
decade, are considered alongside Verdi’s
significant political involvements in
part thee of this conspectus.
Robert J Farr
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