Verdi was not a 
                  religious man. Indeed, it is fair to say he was anti-clerical 
                  and equally anti-Pope. Many Monarchists and Republicans held 
                  the latter view in response to the activities of holders of 
                  the Papal office over the period of the fight for Italy’s unification 
                  and independence. Those matters being stated, Verdi equally 
                  clearly recognised the place of the Catholic Church in the contemporary 
                  society in which he lived and worked. When Rossini died in November 
                  1868, and even before the Memorial Service had been held in 
                  Paris, Verdi wrote to the Milan Gazzetta Musicale suggesting 
                  that the musicians of Italy should unite to honour their great 
                  compatriot by combining to write a Requiem for performance on 
                  the anniversary of his death. No one would receive payment for 
                  his contribution with volunteers to each write one section of 
                  the Mass, being drawn by lot. After the performance, which Verdi 
                  recognised would lack artistic unity; the score would be sealed 
                  up in the Bologna Liceo Musico. The idea was enthusiastically 
                  received and a committee set up to oversee the project. To Verdi, 
                  pre-eminent among the names, fell the closing section, the Libera 
                  Me. He had his composition ready in good time despite revising 
                  La Forza del Destino along the way. Problems arose in 
                  respect of the chorus and orchestra, for which Verdi, somewhat 
                  unfairly, blamed his friend the conductor Mariani and the project 
                  floundered. Verdi met the costs incurred.
                In the year of Rossini’s 
                  death, aided by arrangements connived at by his wife and long 
                  time friend Clarina Maffei, Verdi visited his idol Alessandro 
                  Manzoni. He had read Manzoni’s novel I Promessi Sposi 
                  when aged sixteen and in his fifty-third year he wrote to a 
                  friend, according to me, (he) has written not only the greatest 
                  book of our time but one of the greatest books that ever came 
                  out of the human brain. The novel has been described as 
                  representing for Italians all of Scott, Dickens and Thackeray 
                  rolled into one and infused with the spirit of Tolstoy. It was 
                  not merely the nature of Manzoni’s partly historical story that 
                  gave the work this ethos, but the language. With it Manzoni 
                  made vital steps towards a national Italian language to replace 
                  the proliferate dialects and foreign administrative languages 
                  present in the peninsular. When Manzoni died in May 1873, after 
                  a fall, Verdi was devastated to the extent he could not go to 
                  the funeral for which the shops of Milan were closed, and the 
                  streets lined with thousands. The King sent two Princes of the 
                  Royal Blood to carry the flanking cords and who were aided by 
                  the Presidents of the Senate and Chamber as well as the Ministers 
                  of Education and Foreign Affairs. A week after the funeral Verdi 
                  went to Milan and visited the grave alone. Then, through his 
                  publisher, Ricordi, he proposed to the Mayor of Milan that he 
                  should write a Requiem Mass to honour Manzoni to be performed 
                  in Milan on the first anniversary of Manzoni’s death. There 
                  would be no committee this time. Verdi proposed that he himself 
                  would compose the entire Mass, pay the expenses of preparing 
                  and printing the music, specify the church for the first performance, 
                  choose the singers and chorus, rehearse them and conduct the 
                  premiere; the city would pay the cost of the performance. Thereafter 
                  the Requiem would belong to Verdi. The city accepted with alacrity.
                With artistic unity 
                  guaranteed by the single composer, Verdi intended the work to 
                  have a regular place in the repertoire just like his operas 
                  and other works. Although he had already composed a Libera 
                  Me for the aborted Rossini Requiem, Verdi largely re-wrote 
                  it, thus ensuring even greater compositional coherence than 
                  might otherwise have been the case. Verdi selected the Church 
                  of San Marco for the premiere, considering it to have the best 
                  proportions and acoustics. On 22 May 1874, the first anniversary 
                  of Manzoni’s death, with an orchestra of one hundred and a chorus 
                  of one hundred and twenty it was given to acclaim. Three days 
                  later Verdi conducted another performance at La Scala and which 
                  was followed by two more conducted by Faccio. Argument raged 
                  that Verdi, although using the ecclesiastical text, had not 
                  written music suitable to the religious oeuvre. The work is 
                  certainly not in the tradition of ecclesiastical works set to 
                  counterpoint and fugues, a fact that at least some purists considered 
                  did not distract the listener from the religious message. Despite 
                  criticisms of this nature the Requiem travelled to Paris where 
                  Verdi was made a Commander of the Legion of Honour. After Paris, 
                  London and Vienna followed with the work acclaimed in each.
                The Manzoni Requiem, 
                  as the work is often called, has been referred to by some cynics 
                  as Verdi’s best opera! After the reverential and ecclesiastical 
                  style of the opening Requiem and Kyrie (CHs. 2-3) the 
                  music varies between the beautifully lyric and the heavily dramatic 
                  as in the Dies irae and Tuba mirum (CHs. 4-5). 
                  At its premiere the soloists were renowned opera singers and 
                  ever since, as here, it is conductors and singers with that 
                  background who bring out its strengths, both spiritual and vocal. 
                  Zubin Mehta on the rostrum, now aged seventy, has rediscovered 
                  his operatic roots and empathy with excellent work in Germany 
                  and at Florence’s annual festival. He brings these qualities 
                  to his conducting here. His tight control of the reverential, 
                  ever so soft, opening does not inhibit his letting his choral 
                  and orchestral forces off the leash in the more dramatic outbursts. 
                  The soloists match Mehta’s approach for commitment but their 
                  varied vocal strengths do not always blend well. This is a particular 
                  problem with the sometimes evident vibrato of the spinto soprano 
                  of Fiorenza Cedolins when she is in duet with the creamy-toned 
                  rock-solid mezzo of Luciana D’Intino as in the Recordare 
                  in particular (CH. 9). D’Intino is a tower of strength in the 
                  Liber scriptus (CH. 6) and in the quartets of the Domine 
                  Jesu Christie and Hostias of the Offertorio 
                  (CHs. 13-14). Ramon Vargas’s lyric tenor is in excellent focus 
                  for the great Ingemisco (CH. 10) with graceful effortless 
                  singing, which he also exhibits elsewhere in the piece. The 
                  bass, Rafal Siwek, previously unknown to me, is most promising 
                  and his tone and legato in the repeated Mors, mors stupebit 
                  (CH. 3) is solid and tuneful. As yet his vocal production is 
                  a little on the nasal side but he has a more natural enunciation 
                  of the text than that of many rather glottal East Europeans; 
                  a welcome addition to the basso cantante numbers I suggest. 
                  I did worry how Fiorenza Cedolins would cope with the exposed 
                  soprano singing in the concluding Requiem aeternam and 
                  Libera me (CHs. 19-20), as I did not want my overall 
                  enjoyment and satisfaction spoiled at the last hurdle. I need 
                  not have worried, although not as steady as the big-voiced Leontyne 
                  Price for Karajan she sings with feeling and varied colour. 
                
                There is no shortage 
                  of DVD rivals in this music with Abbado’s name as conductor 
                  featuring regularly. The orchestral and choral forces here may 
                  not match those under him or Karajan with the orchestra and 
                  chorus of La Scala, but they perform with discipline, professionalism 
                  and commitment. It is always a particular pleasure to hear an 
                  Italian chorus in this piece and the good sound balance is another 
                  plus point for this recording.
                This concert was 
                  given on 30 January 2005. It was intended to be a benefit concert 
                  as a mark of solidarity and humanitarian concern. It followed 
                  the tragic events of the previous 26 December when many thousands 
                  died in Indonesia, India and Sri Lanka after the Tsunami. All 
                  the participants donated their fees.
                Whilst correctly 
                  recording details of the background to the composition, the 
                  booklet essay massively and incorrectly states that His (Verdi’s) 
                  work on the score seems to have left him so exhausted that for 
                  the next ten years he wrote virtually nothing, until ‘Otello’ 
                  claimed his attention. So much for the major revisions of 
                  Don Carlo in 1882-3. So much also for the reworking of 
                  Simon Boccanegra, with its new, magnificent Council Chamber 
                  scene and other revisions to Boito’s libretto which was premiered 
                  at La Scala in 1881!
                Robert J Farr